The Drink-Fiend.

And ever it added at sound and scene, "Is this thy glorious land?

Behold the shame of thy vaunting heart,

The shame of thine idle land!

And hear if there comes not a summons to thee
To work or to withstand!

And answer the call by the truth of thy love
For man below and for God above!"

And first was he brought 'neath a cottage roof
That stood by an open wold,

The walls were bare, and here and there
The skeleton rafters old

Stared out from its sides, and beside the hearth
Three children shook in the cold:

Shivered in rags, for fire there was none,
And the clothing of three was too little for one.

Through broken window and fissured wall

The chill wind whistled keen;

43

And there by the hearth they were huddled, as though Where the warm glow once had been

'Twere surely less cold: and a mute despair In their heavy eyes could be seen;

They were hungry and cold, but they dared not cry For terror of her on the bed hard by.

For terror of her!-their mother: O God,
It seemeth a blasphemy!

A mother the dread of the babes she bare !

'Twas a piteous sight to see

How the children quaked if she suddenly moved

In her drunken lethargy;

But the Fiend had their mother, and they knew well That she was unmothered beneath his spell.

He passed from this scene with that voice in his ear, "Is this thy glorious land?

Behold the shame of thy vaunting heart,

The shame of thine idle hand!

Now hear if there is not a summons to thee

To work or to withstand!

And answer the call by the truth of thy love
For man below and for God above!"

44

The Drink-Fiend.

Then he stood by the crowd of a village street
Where hundreds gathered round two:

Two friends had they been in the days that were past,
Strong, and loving, and true;

But the Drink-Fiend came with his damnable wiles,
And a sudden quarrel grew,

And they strove-until one rose alone from the strife,
And his right hand was red with his brother's life.

Then he stood in a city's crowded ways,

And the loaded cars rolled by,

And the deep dull roar of the city was pierced
By a sudden and terrible cry;

Then a groan-then a silence ghastlier still-
Then the crowd said pityingly,

"'Twas a sad mischance!" But the Voice said, "Nay,
'Tis the Fiend that hath gotten that life away!"

These scenes passed by, and again was he led
Through a vine-clad cottage door :

Fair was it placed-green hills behind,
Sweet meadow lands before:

But within was Poverty's dreariest touch

Upon roof, and wall, and floor,

And Famine looked wild in the children's eyes,
And Disease had got him an easy prize.

And a mother was there, not a drunkard she,
Yet a woman worn and wan:

She had once been happy and fair, but her joy
And her beauty alike were gone,

And sad was the desolate angry look

That her eyes upraised anon

As a man through the tottering door reeled in,
In the shamelessness of his shame and sin.

Husband and father! his wife and his home
And his little ones loved he well,

Until, like the serpent in Eden of old,

This Fiend of the nethermost hell

From the dear love of Home and the bright hope of
Heaven

Drew him forth by degrees, and he fell,
Fell, fell to his ruin and theirs-till he lay
Dishonoured, degraded, and lost, as this day.

The Drink-Fiend.

45

In he reeled: and she-from her wasted heart
The fresh tears would not run-

So she spake bitter words, and he turned him round,
And answer gave her none,

But the axe that was near fitted quick to his mind,
And then-O God!-it was done!

And her death-shriek wild was blent with the cry
Of other lives in their agony.

Fair was it without-meadow-lands before,

And the low green hills behind,

And the scent of the flowers and the songs of the birds
Came sweet on the passing wind:

But within the Drink-Fiend reigned alone,
And he laughed as he sat enshrined !
For a murdered wife and her children four
And a suicide reddened that cottage floor.

And ever the Voice said mournfully,
"Is this thy glorious land?

O shame to the pride of thy vaunting heart!
O shame to thine idle hand!

Is there no summons herein to thee

To work and to withstand?

Then answer its call by the truth of thy love
For man below and for God above!"

Then he saw a little babe put to its sleep,
O mother! your darling was fair;

O father! the promise was grand on its brow,
You were proud as you marked it there!

O brothers and sisters! so pure were its smiles,

You grew purer yourselves unaware!

But the Fiend lured the nurse, and the babe, overlain,

To its promise and beauty woke never again.

He was shown in street, and alley, and lane,
Men, women, and babes forlorn;

One man's sorrow and pity to see,
Another's disgust and scorn;

All wretched,- --some wicked, from want and woe,
And some with sickness worn,

"Behold," cried the Voice, while the numbers grew, "This is the Drink-Fiends retinue!"

46

The Drink-Fiend.

But another sight in the streets he saw,
And a sadder sight I ween,

Fair forms, some decked in fair array,
And faces fair were seen;

But the beauty all blasted for lack of one pearl,

So pure as it once had been !

"This ruin," he heard, "hath the Drink-Fiend done, And he finisheth that which he hath begun!"

Not once or twice, but a thousand times,

And a thousand times again,

Saw he scenes such as these, till it seemed he had passed
Through ages of horror and pain:

In village and city he found the Fiend,

On hill, and valley, and plain,

Till he cried, "Have mercy, my soul within

Is sick of the ruin, and sorrow, and sin!

"Have mercy, my mind is changed," he said,
"O Thou that guidest me!

And hearken my vow before Thee now,

If Thou wilt set me free,

I will do battle with this foul Fiend,
Whilst I can hear and see;

I will do battle, and prove my love

Unto man below and to God above!"

As he spake, that Presence, with sight and sound,
To pass away did seem;

And he lay alone, and the room was bright

With the sunny morning gleam

That flowed through the window-bars; and he said,
"Behold, I have dreamed a dream:

Even so, 'twas a dream, but a dream that is true,
And the sleeper that dreamed is but wakened to do."

"To do," he repeated, "against this Fiend!
And God will guide mine hand,

By the mercy which morn, night, noon, and even,
He shows to a sinful land:

In His love will I work for my fellow-man,
In His strength will I withstand!-

My brothers! who cometh to prove His love
Unto man below and to God above?"

(By kind permission of the Author.

A Mother's Recompense.

NOT YET TOO LATE !
F. H. BOWMAN, F.R.A.S.

BROTHER! it is not yet too late to turn,

However far astray thy feet have trod,
There is a pathway open to thy God,

47

And His strong love doth still for sinners yearn. Courage and patience!-and thou yet shalt learn, Though hard the struggle, conquest may be thine, And through His grace thy light and life may shine Yet once again, for others to discern.

No depth so deep, but Christ can lift thee up:

O cast the weight which hinders thee aside!
The Tempter flee, and leave the glittering cup,
And in the Lord alone for strength confide.
For thee shall dawn at last a better day,
And Christ Himself shall wipe thy sin away.

A MOTHER'S RECOMPENSE.

WHAT

W. CALVERT.

can a mother's heart repay,
In after years,

For watchful night and weary day
Beside the cradle passed away,
And anxious tears ?-

To see her dear ones tread the earth
In life and health, and childish mirth.

What can a mother's heart repay
For later care,

For words that heavenward point the way,
For counsel against passion's sway,

And earnest prayer!

To watch her little pilgrims press
Along the road to holiness.

This will a mother's heart repay,
If that loved band,

Amidst life's doubtful battle-fray,
By grace sustained, shall often say,
"Next to God's hand,

All of true happiness we know,
Mother, to thy dear self we owe."