And demands that sleep must go; For a jealous elf is he Who will brook no rivalry. So let Love a Kingdom make In his Heart for Thee: Awake! FIRST PSALM Happy indeed is he who goes The Straight and Narrow Way, And heedeth not the lure of those Who from His precepts stray. With joy observeth he the acts The Master doth proclaim, And, day or night, no fervor lacks To bless His holy name. And he shall be a fruitful tree Deep-rooted in the Truth; And not a leaf shall withered be Nor fruitage cease, forsooth. But those who follow not the Course The Master hath decreed, Shall shrivel and decay, perforce, And barren be their seed. It follows then, that those who sin Must turn again to clay, While righteous men are gathered in On Resurrection Day. For God rewards the Pure in Heart And knoweth all their needs; While those who from his ways depart Shall be like broken reeds. _NOT_ PEACE, BUT REVENGE! Peace? do you say? When my homestead is razed, And Death stalks the fields where my cattle once grazed; And the Dear One is dead Whom I courted and wed, The Joy of my Life when the hearthstone fires blazed. Peace? What a travesty! Give back my wife And the brave little son, who gave up his life That she might escape From the murder or rape Of helmeted hordes in the unequal strife! Peace? Where is my father? Cleaning your shoes! Like a thousand old men you maim and abuse. He was true to his Land, So you cut off his hand And left him but slav'ry or famine to choose. Peace? My wounds cry aloud: Never! I say Till your legions are killed or driven away And my country is free: But, stay! What's that to me, Since all my own Loved Ones lie murdered to-day? No!! _Not_ Peace, but REVENGE! Here is my gun-- Surrendered? O, No! for its work is not done: When my bayonet's sting Smites the heart of your King, And your hell-hounds are flayed,--_then_ Peace will be _won_! HEREDITY I see her creeping 'long the nursery floor,-- A dainty, blue-eyed Babe, scarce old enough To realize 'tis _she_ whom I adore,-- She is a priceless diamond in the rough. Again I see her playing with a host Of noisy, kindergarten girls and boys; She seems to me the fairest and the most Refined: a _pure gold_ girl without alloys. And thus from stage to stage I watch the maid As she develops like the budding rose, And then, Ah me! I'm jealously afraid That she admires me less than other beaux. And then, anon, I see her on the knee Of Willie Jones: I think she shouldn't oughter! But then my Courtship Days come back to me-- _Just like her Ma!_ She is my only Daughter!