“God is the Refuge of His saints When storms of sharp distress invade; Ere we can offer our complaints, Behold Him present with His aid. “Let mountains from their seats be hurled Down to the deep and buried there, Convulsions shake the solid world, Our faith shall never yield to fear. “Loud may the troubled ocean roar, In sacred peace our souls abide, While every nation, every shore, Trembles and dreads the swelling tide. “There is a stream whose gentle flow Supplies the city of our God, Life, love, and joy still gliding through, And watering our divine abode. “That sacred stream, thy Holy Word, Our grief allays, our fear controls; Sweet peace thy promises afford, And give new strength to fainting souls. “Zion enjoys her Monarch’s love, Secure against a threatening hour; Nor can her firm foundation move, Built on His truth, and armed with power.” “Now sing the Doxology!” He lifted his bow again. People turn aside their faces to hide their tears. Then the strains of thanksgiving rose up under the glimmering trees. And old Susan stood up and sung. It is near sunset now. The red sky shines through the skeleton limbs of the still trees. The crows are cawing afar over a dead corn-field. The jaws are calling in the savin-bushes. Old Susan looks into her brother’s face. She takes little Susan by the hand. A bird comes flying through the air out of the woods and alights on the top of an elm. It has a red breast, which shines in the sunset. It lifts its brown wings joyfully and begins to sing. It was the last song of the robin.[1] [1] This story is used by permission of Messrs. Harper and Brothers. I wrote it originally for the Thanksgiving number of “Harper’s Weekly,” 1893. [Illustration: ELECTRICITY AND MINES BUILDINGS.] CHAPTER II. THE STORY OF THE OPENING OF THE WORLD’S COLUMBIAN EXPOSITION. A single member of the Folk Lore Society was in Chicago at the opening of the Exposition. He returned a few days after the event. It was one of the plans of this Society to have its members give accounts of the new places they visited, and a meeting was called on the return of this fortunate member to hear him relate the story of the May Day opening of the Fair. The story[2] increased the interest among the members in Mr. Marlowe’s visit. What suggestions might not Mr. Marlowe have to make? [2] This account was written by Mr. C. A. Stephens for the “Youth’s Companion.” MAY DAY AT THE WORLD’S FAIR.