They dare to suffer poverty and shame,
And turning from the world's enchanted bowers,
To consecrate their youth and all their powers
To Him they serve, and even here they find
More real pleasure than they e'er resigned.

The best they have in early life they bring
A free-will offering to their God and King;
And in that hour when heart and flesh shall fail,
Their song of triumph ringing through the vale,
Will mingle with the anthems of the blest,
Who wait to hail them to their heavenly rest.
Would'st thou depart with that exulting cry
In glorious hope of immortality?
I read an answer in that beaming face,
_Behold thy Saviour--fly to his embrace!_




THE BATTLE-FIELD.


Strewn on the battle-plain,
After the fight was done,
And the bloody victory won,
Were a thousand heaps of slain.
Rider and horse there lay,
But the war-steed neighed no more,
And the gallant form he bore