Bands of Hope

Boys of England, boys of England,
You may grandest patriots prove;
Do your country greater service,
Show a higher, holier love

Than to die in battle gory

In some far-off foreign clime;
You may live to make her nobler,
Fill her with a light sublime.
Boys of England, boys of England,
You've a glorious mission now;
Know, and bravely dare to do it,
Nor to senseless custom bow.
Free yourselves from every habit
Which would keep you from the right;
Then you'll truly serve your country,
Free her from the greatest blight.

Boys of England, boys of England,
Be in earnest, watch and pray;
Soon you'll rise to fill the places
Of the men who pass away.
And you should be wiser, freer,
Better men than they have been;
Now resolve that such you will be,-
Grandest men the world hath seen.

BA

BANDS OF HOPE.

D.

ANDS of Hope are Bands of blessing,
Binding in a loving tie

Boys and girls, and youths and maidens,
Who would dark temptation fly.

Bands of Hope! they bless the present,
Make the happy happier still;

While they strengthen young disciples,
And give firmness to the will.

Bands of Hope! they gild the future,
Ushering in a brighter day,
When the foul, destroying demon
Shall be made to yield his prey.

Bands of Hope! they speak of plenty,
Peace, and love, and joy at home;
Want, and hate, and blows forgotten,
O that now the day were come!

183

184

The Drunkard's Deathbed.

Bands of Hope! they rear the altar,
Tune the hymn, and guide to God;
Help to reverence the Sabbath,
Keep us in the narrow road.

Bands of Hope! their influence tendeth
Good to scatter all around;
Life to cheer by bringing many
Near the Gospel's joyful sound.

Bands of Hope! they thus prepare us
Death to vanquish, God to meet;
Found in Christ, and leading others
To the Saviour's Mercy Seat.

Bands of Hope are Bands of Blessing;
Let them then be multiplied

In each city, town, and village,
Valley deep, or mountain side.

THE DRUNKARD'S DEATHBED.
BY J. J. LANE.

THE

THE midnight hour had struck, I ope'd the door,
A dingy door which led into a cell,

Where lay upon a bed of naked straw

The dying drunkard whom I knew full well.

Nor wife, nor children lingered round his bed,
Nor friend, nor old associate was there
To bathe and cool the fever of his head,

Or hear him breathe his last imploring prayer.

Alone he lay the deeds of threescore years
Before his startled vision pass'd him by;
He groaned aloud, for they awoke his fears,

Yet cursed the thought that whispered death was nigh.
I bent me down, and in kind words and low
Spoke of the land where myriads happy dwell;
Then gravely warned him of the gulf below,

Where guilty conscience knows a changeless hell.

"Speak on, speak on!" he cried, as wild he toss'd His suppliant hands in fervent prayer to heaven: "Speak on, but say not that my soul is lost,

There still is time for me to be forgiven.

The Coming Man.

"Time left for me: oh yes, 'tis true, I feel
What others foul as I have felt before;
Soft strains of mercy through my spirit steal,
Which bid me welcome to that blissful shore.
"All the dark deeds which plagued my failing sight
Whilst here in groans and misery I lay,
Have been dispelled, as are the shades of night
When gleam the first faint sunbeams of the day."
He seized and press'd my hand, I felt a chill
Run through my veins, and paralyse the core,
One deep long sigh, one look, then all was still,-
From sin, death, hell, to glory evermore.

Who seek Thy face, O Lord, in early youth,

And never tread the drunkard's downward road, Thrice blest are they in purity and truth

185

Through life, in death, and round the throne of God.

THE

FEV

COMING MAN.

GEORGE W. BUNGAY.

EVERED heart and heated brain
In the future will not reign

Over this, our fair domain.

Here the sheltering wing divine,
Like the spangled sky, is spread
In star-glory overhead.

Wise men, like the shepherds led,
Will not taste the rosy wine.

Thick as billows of the seas
Are the graves of debauchees,
Shall we warning take of these,

Since they form of death the line?

See the faces white with care,
See the pictures of despair,
See the shadows in the air,

Coming from the cup of wine!

Fashion bows its little head,
Habit shows its cheeks of red,
Passion nods to all that's said,

Where the brimming goblets shine:

In the glass a serpent lies,

And the beads which bubbling rise
Are the serpent's glittering eyes,

And its fangs are in the wine.

186

The Coming Man.

The coming man will bravely stand,
Without the wine-glass in his hand,
A sun-crowned chieftain of the land;
A landmark, like the lofty pine
Which lifts on high its plumes of fir,
Whose root no fickle winds can stir;
He, like an upright worshipper,

Will never stoop to taste of wine.
Strong of body, strong of soul,
Firm of purpose to control,
He will spurn the tempting bowl
In the shadow of the vine.

No taint of wine in his red veins,
No fume of wine in his full brains,

No trembling hand will hold the reins

When he who rules shall drink no wine.

Mothers of the mighty men,
Lo! an angel speaks again
As in dreaming ages, when

His grand mission was divine;

He spake unto Elizabeth
With his sweet and holy breath,
To be faithful unto death,

And not spoil the child with wine.

If the coming man is born,
Drug him not with grape or corn,
Let no cloud obscure his dawn:
Is he not a child of thine?
Sweet young mother, softly sing
To the dove beneath thy wing;
Let the cradle gently swing

To the hymn, "Disuse of Wine."
Is the coming man at school,
Teach him there the golden rule;
Wine the mocker makes the fool:

As twigs are bent the trees incline.
The coming man is coming soon;
King Brute is reeling from his throne,
May his sun go down at noon!

Hail to the chief who drinks no wine!

END OF VOLUME VI.

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