For nothing else is great,
However proudly won,
Or has the light to indicate
The will of God is done.
Ah, who would judge what fire
Will surely burn away!
And ask not, What doth God require
At the Eternal Day?
* * * * *
"Stonewall" Jackson.
God somehow owns the creeds
That seem so much amiss,
What time they bear heroic deeds
Above analysis.
How, in his burning zeal,
Did Stonewall breast his fate,
Converted to his country's weal
With fame beyond debate!
Sincere and strong of heart,
In very truth he thought
His ensign signaled duty's part;
And as he thought he fought.
And truth baptized in blood,
As many a time before,
Gave honor to his soldierhood,
Though trailed the flag he bore.
Work Its Own Reward
O worker with the Lord,
To crown thee with success,
Believe thy work its own reward,
Let self be less and less.
In all things be sincere,
Afraid not of the light,
A prophet of the Golden Year
In simply doing right.
And be content to serve,
A little one of God,
In loyalty without reserve,
A hero armored, shod.
Or this dear life of thine,
Of every charm bereft,
Will crumble in the fire divine,
Naught, naught but ashes left.
* * * * *
Now and Here
O not to-morrow or afar,
Thy work is now and here;
Thy bosom holds the fairest star--
Dost see it shining clear?
The nearest things are great,
Remotest very small,
To him with eyes to penetrate
The silent coronal.
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