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incisive, quickening spell,
Does not their labour crown.
And still thou reign'st supremely fair,
In homes and battle fields,

And his the arm victorious,
Who thy grand armour wields.
For they
who with untiring zeal,
Thy heart-fires ceaseless feed,
Know their
supernal warmth alone,
Can meet man's highest need.
But hearts e'en at the altar pledged
Oft seek for love in vain,
And
hungering souls are doomed to starve,
In freezing, cold disdain.
Ah,

why should mortals thus refuse
To wield that grace divine,
The
chief of the blest three that heaven
Gives to make life sublime.
Some make a grave mistake, and seek
Pity beyond their home;
No
friend or relative on earth
Should counsel thus to roam.
Others have
cultivated minds,
Are leaders in high art,
Whilst in the little things
of life,
They take no kindly part.
And yet if we investigate,
It is these little things,
Which make up
human happiness,
And lasting pleasure brings.
And tastes
objectionable oft,
May on life's harp-strings jar,
Producing irritation

And much domestic war.
The little word in the right place,
The gentle touches, tones,
The
watchful loving sympathy,
Which for so much atones,
Are potent
means which moral force
Finds it the best to wield,
For 'neath their
mystic influence,
Most hearts are bound to yield.
Oh! for this love that conquers self,
That binds us to our kind,
That
raises us to heaven and God,
And purifies the mind!
Ecstatic, sweet,
rekindling power,
Bright altar-fire sublime,
Most precious gift to mortals given,
That
will outlive all time.
The Rubicon is past when wed,
And there is no retreat,
Brave hearts
should then accept the lot,
Which none but they can meet.
'Tis
always wise and safe to choose
The heaven directed course
Of
ruling by all-conquering love,
Than by the rod of force.
Let home be made a sacred shrine,
The best, most cherished spot,

All others then will surely be

Deserted and forgot.
Each should
uphold the other self,
Before the world's keen sight;
In thus
upholding, each will keep
His honour doubly bright.

Like Graecian vestals who of yore
Believed no duty higher
Than
tending night and day the flame
Of the celestial fire,
So let the
broad world's denizens
Foster this heart-fire bright,
Which can their
pilgrimage on earth
Illume with glorious light.
Domestic bliss, how beautiful!
No idol is so fair.
Set in the royalty
of love,
What can with it compare?
Models of virtue are the homes

Where this blest power holds sway,
Where parents' words suffice
to move
Their offspring to obey.
I know of such a happy home,
Where love-signs rarely cease,
And
'tis in very truth a throne
Of harmony and peace.
Nature's grand law
of order there,
Reigns with exactness sure
The wheels of time glide
smoothly through
An atmosphere so pure.
A group of healthy children six
Their happy parents meet,
For
breakfast where food, simple, pure,
Their hungry senses greet.

Those budding blossoms of the home
With joy-lit life appear,
A
daily morning glory they,
So neat, clean, trim and dear.
No wonder if the father's soul,
Worships his darling bride,
No
wonder if his manly heart,
Swells with delighted pride:
For does
she not make home a shrine,
Where love and duty vie
To honour,
through her peerless love,
Their holy marriage tie?
He daily leaves his happy home,
Next heaven the holiest place,

Strengthened by her sweet words and kiss,
For action in life's race.

And she through all her daily rounds,
Thinks foremost of the one,

Who no less now than years ago,

Her steadfast love has won.
God bless them in their happy home!
God bless their children nine!

And may they through a peaceful life,
Ever in love combine,
To aid
and cheer each other here,
And when this life is past,
Be reunited in
that life
Which will for ever last.

Such homes of cheerful industry,
Of order, thrift and care,
Sweetly
reflect on those whose minds,
Their thrice blest precincts share.

And since 'tis in the reach of most
To make a home like this.
What
pity that e'en one refuse
To win such priceless bliss.
People there are who ceaseless moan,
Their hard and cruel fate,
Yet
never see their course is wrong,
Until alas! too late;
To such the
axiom I'd repeat,
That 'tis God's righteous will,
To help all those
who help themselves,
Life's duties to fulfil.
'Tis written upon every life
With which we mingle here,
And
throughout nature's wide domain
It also doth appear,
That all
unchanging are God's laws,
Their consequences sure;
That as we
choose to sow we reap,
Fruit holy or impure.
Trace the effects of idleness,
Extravagance and play,
Of
self-indulgence, vice and pride,
And then reflecting say,
It was not
stern Nemesis' part,
To punish each, as cause
Of retribution to
himself
For breaking nature's laws.
Let all, then, bravely conquer self,
And use the means which heaven

Has placed within the reach of each,
Life's sorriest state to leaven.

Industry, perseverance, thrift,
Love, honesty and skill,
Will aid
the weakest in their work,
Life's duties to fulfil.
All-conquering, grand, unselfish love!
Nought can withstand the
power
Of thy divine, o'ermastering force,
To man heaven's richest
dower.
All know who own thy sovereign sway,
No wealth can
equal thine,

Inspiring and constraining each,
To sacrifice sublime!

TO THE EMPRESS EUGENIE ON THE DEATH OF HER SON.
If sympathy can soften a mourner's poignant woe,
And stay the bitter

tear drops that from her sad eyes flow, Then take it, honoured Empress,
from the land of thy retreat, Where hearts in bitter anguish with thine
now sorrowing beat.
Alas, we cannot fathom