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For humanity sweeps onward; where to-day the martyr stands,

On the morrow crouches Judas with the silver in his hands;

We sleep and wake and sleep, but all things Far in front the cross stands ready and the

move;

The sun flies forward to his brother sun;
The dark earth follows wheeled in her ellipse;
And human things returning on themselves,
Move onward, leading up the golden year.

TENNYSON.

crackling fagots burn,

While the hooting mob of yesterday in silent awe return

To glean up the scattered ashes into history's golden urn. LOWELL.

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Go, mark the matchless working of the power And if it dared its life to scan,

That shuts within the seed the future flower:
Bids these in elegance of form excel,
In color these, and those delight the smell;
Sends nature forth, the daughter of the skies,
To dance on earth, and charm all human eyes.

COWPER.

Would ask but pathway low and still;
Often such lowly heart is brought
To act with power beyond its thought;
For God through ways they have not known
Will lead his own.

ANONYMOUS.

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