176 Our Country is the World. In one vast symphony of praise, Sink in the abyss of endless night. Afric's emancipated sons Shall shout to Asia's rapturous throng; Europe resound her Saviour's fame, And western climes the note prolong. From east to west, from north to south, And every man, in every face, Shall meet a brother and a friend. And let that work of England's hand, Such through all time the greetings be, Of Brothers o'er the Deep! The Christian Life. XOVIII. CHRIST had his sorrows; when he shed Christ had his sorrows; so must thou, Christ had his joys; but they were not The joys the son of pleasure boasts; Oh, no! 'twas when his spirit sought Thy will, thy glory, God of Hosts. Christ had his joys; and so hath he Who feels his spirit in his heartWho yields, O God, his will to thee, And loves thy name for what thou art. Christ had his foes; the prince of hell, And all his angels sought his death! See! human hearts with malice swell, And murder feign affection's breath! 178 Prayer for the removal of Prejudice. Christ had his foes; and so, if thou Shalt with him walk and near him live, Christ had his friends; his eye could trace, Through the long train of coming years, The chosen children of his grace, The full reward of all his tears. Christ had his friends-and his are thine, Prayer for the removal of Prejudice. XCIX. Oh hear the wailing cry; His brother's hand deep wrong inflicts, And binds in galling chains. With scoffs that brother sees Prayer for the removal of Prejudice. 179 Oh, melt those flinty hearts, Strong prejudice remove, And teach thy paler children, Lord, The Dunting of Men. JOHN G. WHITTIER. Have ye heard of our hunting, o'er mountain and glen, Gay luck to our hunters!—how nobly they ride In the glow of their zeal, and the strength of their pride! Just screening the politic Statesman behind- 180 Prayer for the removal of Prejudice. Hast thou not promised long? Oh goodly and grand is our hunting to see, In this land of the brave and this home of the free.' Wo, now to the hunted who turns him at bay !- Ho-ALMS for our hunters !—all weary and faint Wax the curse of the sinner and prayer of the saint ! The horn is wound faintly—the echoes are still Over cane-brake and river, and forest and hill. Will they ride in their pomp to the hunting of men! ALMS-ALMS for our hunters!—why will ye delay, |