God is Love, saith the Evangel; and our world of
woe and sin
Is made light and happy only when a Love is
shining in.

Ye whose lives are free as sunshine, finding, where-
soe'er ye roam,
Smiles of welcome, looks of kindness, making all
the world like home;

In the veins of whose affections kindred blood is
but a part.,
Of one kindly current throbbing from the universal
heart;

Can ye know the deeper meaning of a love in Slavery
nursed,
Last flower of a lost Eden, blooming in that Soil
accursed?

Love of Home, and Love of Woman!--dear to all,
but doubly dear
To the heart whose pulses elsewhere measure only
hate and fear.

All around the desert circles, underneath a brazen
sky,
Only one green spot remaining where the dew is
never dry!