WARREN'S ADDRESS AT BUNKER HILL

JOHN PIERPONT

JOHN PIERPONT. Born in Litchfield, Connecticut, April 6, 1785; died in Medford, Massachusetts, August 27, 1866. He was an American poet and a Unitarian clergyman. Two of his most popular poems are "Warren's Address" and the "Pilgrim Fathers." "Airs of Palestine," "My Child," and "Not on the Battle-Field" are among the best poems that he has written. He is the author of many hymns and odes written for both religious and national occasions.

Stand! the ground's your own, my braves!
Will ye give it up to slaves?

Will ye look for greener graves?

Hope ye mercy still?

What's the mercy despots feel?

Hear it in that battle-peal!

Read it on yon bristling steel!

Ask it, ye who will.

Fear ye foes who kill for hire?
Will ye to your homes retire?
Look behind you,—they're afire!
And before you, see

Who have done it! From the vale
On they come !—and will ye quail?
Leaden rain and iron hail

Let their welcome be!

حيم

STRIVE, WAIT, AND PRAY

In the God of battles trust!
Die we may,—and die we must:
But, oh, where can dust to dust
Be consigned so well,

As where heaven its dews shall shed
On the martyred patriot's bed,

And the rocks shall raise their head,
Of his deeds to tell?

STRIVE, WAIT, AND PRAY

ADELAIDE A. PROCTER

Strive; yet I do not promise

The prize you dream of to-day
Will not fade when you think to grasp it
And melt in your hand away;
But another and holier treasure,
You would now perchance disdain,
Will come when your toil is over,
And pay you for all your pain.

Wait; yet I do not tell you

The hour you long for now,

Will not come with its radiance vanished.
And a shadow upon its brow;

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Yet far through the misty future,
With a crown of starry light,
An hour of joy you know not
Is winging her silent flight.

Pray; though the gift you ask for
May never comfort your fears,
May never repay your pleading,

Yet pray, and with hopeful tears;
An answer, not that you long for,
But diviner, will come one day;
Your eyes are too dim to see it,
Yet strive, and wait, and pray.

ST. TERESA'S BOOKMARK

Let nothing trouble you.

Let nothing frighten you.

All things pass away.

God only is immutable.

Patience overcometh all difficulties.

Those who possess God, want nothing. God alone suffices.

SAINT CHRISTOPHER

HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW

HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW, one of the best poets of America, was born in Portland, Maine, February 27, 1807; and died in Cambridge, Massachusetts, March 24, 1882.

He graduated at Bowdoin College when eighteen years of age, and, after studying in Europe, accepted a position as professor of modern languages in Bowdoin. From 1836 to 1854 he was professor of modern languages and belles lettres in Harvard College. His poetical works are well known. His prose works are "Hyperion,” "Kavanagh," and "Outre-Mer." His "Hiawatha" and "Evangeline" are favorites with many; "The Spanish Student," "Tales of a Way

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His trans

side Inn, "The Golden Legend" are among his longest poems. lation of "Dante" is considered one of the best that has been made.

His mother taught him his letters from the "Lives of the Saints"-a volume full of wondrous legends, and illustrated with engravings from pictures by the old masters, which opened to him the world of spirits and the world of art; and both were beautiful. She explained to him the pictures; she read to him the legends-the lives of holy men and women, full of faith and good works-things that ever afterward remained associated together in his mind. Thus holiness of life, and self-renunciation, and devotion to duty were early impressed upon his soul. To his quick imagination, the spiritual world became real; the holy com

pany of the saints stood round about the solitary boy; his guardian angel led him by the hand by day and sat by his pillow at night.

Of all the stories that which most delighted and most impressed him was the one of St. Christopher. The picture illustrating the story was from a painting of Paolo Farinato, representing a figure of gigantic strength and stature, leaning upon a staff, and bearing the Infant Christ, on his bending shoulders, across the rushing river.

The legend related that St. Christopher, being of huge proportions and immense strength, wandered long about the world before his conversion, seeking for the greatest king, and willing to obey no other. After serving various masters, whom in turn he deserted because each recognized by some word or sign another greater than himself, he heard by chance of Christ, the King of heaven and earth, and asked of a holy hermit where He might be found and how he might serve Him.

The hermit told him he must fast and pray; but the giant replied that if he fasted he would lose his strength, and that he did not know how to pray. Then the hermit told him to take up his abode on the banks of a mountain torrent, where travellers were often drowned in crossing, and to rescue any that might be in peril.

The giant obeyed; and tearing up a palm tree by the roots for a staff, he took his station by the river's side and saved many lives.

The Lord looked down from heaven and said, “Behold