Our field is the world!--whether sowing or reaping,
Or gleaning the handfuls that others have passed,
Or waiting the growth of the seed that, with weeping,
On rocky and desolate plains we have cast,
Yet each for his toiling, and each for his mourning,
Shall sometime rejoice when the harvest is done,
And know, in the flush of Eternity's morning,
That the toil, the reward, and the glory are one.




SAULT STE. MARIE


Laughing and singing
With rhythmical flow,
Leaping and springing,
O light-hearted Sault!--
Tossing up snowy hands
In thy glad play,
Shaking out dewy locks
Bright with the spray,--
Joyously ever
Thy bright waters go,
Yet wearying never,
O beautiful Sault!

Kingly Superior