Sanders' Union Fourth Reader Part 82

"WHOM HAVE I IN HEAVEN BUT THEE?"

MISS PAMELIA S. VINING.

1. 'Twere naught to me, yon glorious arch of night, Decked with the gorgeous blazonry of heaven, If, to my faith, amid its splendors bright, No vision of the Eternal One were given; I could but view a dreary, soulless waste,-- A vast expanse of solitude unknown, More cheerless for the splendors o'er it cast,-- For all its grandeur more intensely lone.

2. 'Twere naught to me, this ever-changeful scene Of earthly beauty, suns.h.i.+ne, and delight,-- The wood's deep shadows and the valley's green,-- Morn's tender glow, and sunset's splendors bright; Naught, if my Father spoke not from the sky, The cloud, the flower, the landscape, and the leaf; My soul would pine 'mid earth's vain pageantry, And droop in hopeless orphanage and grief.

3. 'Twere naught to me, the ocean's vast expanse, If His perfections were not mirrored there; Hopeless across the unmeasured waste I'd glance, And clasp my hands in anguish, not in prayer.

Naught Nature's anthem, ever swelling up From Nature's myriad voices; for the hymn Breathes not of love, or grat.i.tude, or hope, Robbed of the tones that tell my soul of Him.

4. This wondrous universe how less than naught Without my G.o.d! how desolate and drear!

A mock'ry, earth with her vain splendors fraught!

A gilded pageant, every rolling sphere!

The noonday sun with all his glories crowned, A sickly meteor glimmers faint and pale!

And all earth's melodies, their sweetness drowned, Are but the utterance of a funeral wail.

LESSON CXX.

THE MEMORY OF WAs.h.i.+NGTON.

KOSSUTH.

1. Mr. President: I consider it a particular favor of Providence that I am permitted to partake, on the present solemn occasion, in paying the tribute of honor and grat.i.tude to the memory of your immortal Was.h.i.+ngton.

2. An architect having raised a proud and n.o.ble building to the service of the Almighty, his admirers desired to erect a monument to his memory.

How was it done? His name was inscribed upon the wall, with these additional words: "You seek his monument--look around."

3. Let him who looks for a monument of Was.h.i.+ngton look around the United States. The whole country is a monument to him. Your freedom, your independence, your national power, your prosperity, and your prodigious growth, is a monument to Was.h.i.+ngton.

4. There is no room left for panegyric, none especially to a stranger whom you had full reason to charge with arrogance, were he able to believe that his feeble voice could claim to be noticed in the mighty harmony of a nation's praise. Let me, therefore, instead of such an arrogant attempt, pray that that G.o.d, to whose providential intentions Was.h.i.+ngton was a glorious instrument, may impart to the people of the United States the same wisdom for the conservation of the present prosperity of the land and for its future security, which he gave to Was.h.i.+ngton for the foundation of it.

5. I yield to n.o.body in the world in reverence and respect to the immortal memory of Was.h.i.+ngton. His life and his principles were the guiding star of my life; to that star I looked up for inspiration and advice, during the vicissitudes of my stormy life. Hence I drew that devotion to my country and to the cause of national freedom, which you, gentlemen, and millions of your fellow-citizens, and your national government, are so kind as to honor by unexampled distinction.

6. Sir, I have studied the history of your immortal Was.h.i.+ngton, and have, from my early youth, considered his principles as a living source of instruction to statesmen and to patriots.

When, in that very year in which Was.h.i.+ngton issued his Farewell Address, M. Adet, the French Minister, presented to him the flag of the French Republic, Was.h.i.+ngton, as President of the United States, answered officially, with these memorable words:

"Born in a land of liberty, having early learned its value, having engaged in a perilous conflict to defend it, having devoted the best years of my life to secure its permanent establishment in my country, my anxious recollections, my sympathetic feelings, and my best wishes, are irresistibly attracted, whensoever in any country I see an oppressed nation unfurl the banner of freedom."

7. Thus spoke Was.h.i.+ngton. Have I not then full reason to say, that if he were alive his generous sympathy would be with me; and the sympathy of a Was.h.i.+ngton never was, and never would be, a barren word. Was.h.i.+ngton, who raised the word "honesty" as a rule of policy, never would have professed a sentiment which his wisdom as a statesman would not have approved.

8. Sir! here let me end. I consider it already as an immense benefit that your generous attention connected the cause of Hungary with the celebration of the memory of Was.h.i.+ngton.

9. Spirit of the departed! smile down from heaven upon this appreciation of my country's cause; watch over those principles which thou hast taken for the guiding star of thy n.o.ble life, and the time will yet come when not only thine own country, but liberated Europe, also, will be a living monument to thy immortal name.

LESSON CXXI.

THE LOST ONE'S LAMENT.

1. Oh! the snow, the beautiful snow, Filling the sky and earth below; Over the housetops, over the street, Over the heads of the people you meet, Dancing, Flirting, Skimming along!

Beautiful snow! it can do no wrong.

Flying to kiss a fair lady's cheek, Clinging to lips in a frolicsome freak, Beautiful snow from the Heaven above, Pure as an angel, gentle as love!

2. Oh! the snow, the beautiful snow, How the flakes gather and laugh as they go?

Whirling about in its maddening fun, It plays in its glee with every one; Chasing, Laughing, Hurrying by, It lights on the face and it sparkles the eye!

And even the dogs, with a bark and a bound, Snap at the crystals that eddy around.

The town is alive, and its heart in a glow To welcome the coming of beautiful snow.

3. How wild the crowd goes swaying along, Hailing each other with humor and song!

How the gay sledges, like meteors, flash by, Bright for the moment, then lost to the eye!

Ringing, Swinging, Das.h.i.+ng they go Over the crust of the beautiful snow; Snow so pure when it falls from the sky, To be trampled in mud by the crowd rus.h.i.+ng by, To be trampled and tracked by thousands of feet, Till it blends with the filth in the horrible street

4. How strange it should be that this beautiful snow, Should fall on a sinner with nowhere to go!

How strange it should be, when the night comes again If the snow and the ice struck my desperate brain!

Fainting, Freezing, Dying alone, Too wicked for prayer, too weak for a moan To be heard in the crazy town, Gone mad in the joy of the snow coming down; To lie and so die, in my terrible woe, With a bed and a shroud of the beautiful snow!