And the great name of England, round and round.

Oh rise, our strong Atlantic sons,
When war against our freedom springs!
Oh, speak to Europe through your guns!
They _can_ be understood by kings.
You must not mix our Queen with those
That wish to keep their people fools:
Our freedom's foemen are her foes;
She comprehends the race she rules.
Hands all round!
God the tyrant's cause confound!
To our great kinsman in the West, my friends,
And the great cause of Freedom, round and round.

ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON.

* * * * *




RECESSIONAL.


God of our fathers, known of old,--
Lord of our far-flung battle line,--
Beneath whose awful hand we hold
Dominion over palm and pine,--
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,