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Hears at last, through the mercy of Allah to all,
From his tent-door, at evening, the Bedouin's call :
“Whoever thou art, whose need is great,
In the name of God, the compassionate
And merciful One, for thee I wait!”

For gifts, in his name, of food and rest,
The tents of Islam of God are blest.
Thou who hast faith in the Christ above,
Shall the Korán teach thee the law of love?
O Christian! open thy heart and door,
Cry, east and west, to the wandering poor,
“Whoever thou art, whose need is great,
In the name of Christ, the compassionate
And merciful One, for thee I wait!”

Miss E. J. Whittier.



Who is my brother ? 'Tis not merely he
Who hung upon the same loved mother's breast,
But every one, whoever he may be,
On whom the image of a man's imprest.
True Christian sympathy was ne'er designed
To be shut up within a narrow bound;
But sweeps abroad, and, in its search to find
Objects of mercy, goes the whole world round.

'Tis like the sun, rejoicing east and west;
Or beautiful rainbow, bright from south to north :
It has an angel's pinion, mounting forth
O'er rocks and hills and seas, to make men blest.
No matter what their color, name, or place,
It blesses all alike, the universal race.



I'll paint you Lady Marian :-
She walks this world, a shining one!
A woman with an angel's face,
Sweet gravity and tender grace ;
And, where she treads this earth of ours,
Heaven blossoms into smiling flowers.

This is the Lady Marian.

One of the spirits that walk in white !
Many dumb hearts that sit in night
Her presence know, just as the birds
Know morning, murmuring cheerful words.
Where life is darkest, she doth move
With influence as of visible love.

This is the Lady Marian.

One of God's treasurers for the poor!
She keepeth open heart and door.
That heart, a holy well of wealth,
Brimming life-waters, quick with health;
That door, an opening you look through
To find God our side of heaven's blue.

This is the Lady Marian.

Her coming all your being fills
With a balm-breath from heaven's hills;
And in her face the light is mild
As though the heart within her smiled,
And in her heart doth sit and sing
Some spirit of immortal spring.

This is the Lady Marian.

“We shall not mend the world : we try,
And, lo, our work is vain !” they cry:
With her pathetic look, she hears;
You see the wounded soul bleed tears;
But toward the dark she sets her face,
And calmly keeps her onward pace.

This is the Lady Marian.

True picture of the Master of old !
Touches of likeness manifold !

The human sweetness in his face ;
Large love that would a world embrace ;
His heavenly pity in her eyes;
And all the soul of sacrifice.
This is the Lady Marian.

Gerald Massey


Give us the nerve of steel,

And the arm of fearless might,
And the strength of will that is ready still

To battle for the right.

Give us the


to weep That honest tear of feeling, That shuts not down for the world's dread frown,

The genuine heart revealing.

Give us the mind to feel

The sufferings of another,
And fearless power in the dying hour

To help a suffering brother.

Give us the clear, cool brain,

That is never asleep or dozing,
But, sparkling ever with bold endeavor,

Wakes the world from its prosing.

Ah! give us the nerve of steel,

And the hand of fearless might, And the heart that can love and feel,

And the head that is always right.

For the foeman is now abroad,

And the earth is filled with crimes : Let it be our prayer to God,

Oh, give us the men for the times !


I have a work to do,

A work I may not shun;
One path I must pursue

Until my life be done.
What others do I need not ask :
Enough for me, I know my task.

'Tis not to seek for wealth;

I covet no man's store :
I thank my God for health ;

I ask for nothing more.
My daily wants are soon supplied ;
Or what I do not need, denied.

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