This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1906 Excerpt: ...To greet the infant boy: Anon the patient air resounds Through all the noble mansion's bounds With boisterous mirth and noisy sounds, As men their wits destroy. Rise in the name of the young soul, And lay the folly low, And while the witless sallies roll Do battle with the foe. Slow, dull, and sad, the funeral bell ...
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This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1906 Excerpt: ...To greet the infant boy: Anon the patient air resounds Through all the noble mansion's bounds With boisterous mirth and noisy sounds, As men their wits destroy. Rise in the name of the young soul, And lay the folly low, And while the witless sallies roll Do battle with the foe. Slow, dull, and sad, the funeral bell Tolls for the sleeping dead, And all the booming accents tell That one more soul has sped To that lone land where, silently, The serried ranks of mankind lie Awaiting quickening from on high To stand before their Head. Yet even in this solemn hour, When tears of sorrow flow, The conflict speeds; then, to o'erpower, Do battle with the foe. Like incense rise the notes of praise From yonder hallowed fane, And kneeling worshippers npraise To heaven a holy strain; Nor can the listening earthly ear A chord of heartfelt sorrow hear, Nor e'en detect a tone of fear Or wail of heavy pain. Bat, hidden deep, sad hearts are torn By many an aching woe. And here strong vows are often born To battle with the foe. High in the Imperial Senate sit Oar rulers wise and great, And labour fitfully to knit The fabric of the State. The unfinished structure speaks delay, The workers to vain fears give way, While for the great, the crowning day, The groaning millions wait; Press on, to speed the laggard men We may not have it so, And there, by votes, by voice, by pen, Do battle with the foe. Up, in the name of truth and right, With flushed and earnest brow; Up, when the day of life is bright, And strike for freedom now; Up, for the tender hearts that mourn, Up, for the souls from virtue torn, Up, for the millions yet unborn, Up, register a vow That you will fight this fiend of sin, And his fell power o'erthrow, For God Himself is with us in The battle 'gainst the foe. Tell...
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