If de greates' is de servant, den Ah got to say o' dem, Dey'll be standin' nex' to Jesus, sub to no one else but Him; If de crown goes to de fait'ful, an' de palm de victors wear, Dey'll be loaded down wid jewels more dan anybody dere. She'd de hardes' road to trabel evah mortal had to pull; But she knelt down in huh cabin till huh cup o' joy was full; Dough' ol' Satan tried to shake huh f'om huh knees wid scowl an' frown, She jes' "clumb up Jacob's ladder," an' he nevah drug huh down. She'd jes' croon above de babies, she'd jes' sing when t'ings went wrong, An' no matter what de trouble, she would meet it wid a song; She jes' prayed huh way to heaben, findin' comfort in de rod; She jes' "stole away to Jesus," she jes' sung huh way to God! She "kep' lookin' ovah Jurdan," kep' "a-trustin' in de word," Kep' a-lookin' fo "de char'et," kep' "a-waitin' fo' de Lawd," If she evah had to quavah of de shadder of a doubt, It ain't nevah been discovahed, fo' she nevah sung it out; But she trusted in de shadder, an' she trusted in de shine, An' she longed fo' one possession: "dat heaben to be mine"; An' she prayed huh chil'en freedom, but she won huhse'f de bes',-- Peace on eart' amids' huh sorrows, an' up yonder heabenly res'! Leslie Pinckney Hill TUSKEGEE Wherefore this busy labor without rest? Is it an idle dream to which we cling, Here where a thousand dusky toilers sing Unto the world their hope? "Build we our best. By hand and thought," they cry, "although unblessed." So the great engines throb, and anvils ring, And so the thought is wedded to the thing; But what shall be the end, and what the test? Dear God, we dare not answer, we can see Not many steps ahead, but this we know-- If all our toilsome building is in vain, Availing not to set our manhood free, If envious hate roots out the seed we sow, The South will wear eternally a stain. CHRISTMAS AT MELROSE