1. Arise, ye saints of latter days And sing the great Redeemer's

2. Hosanna! let the echo spring, Triumphant on exulting
praise, With joyful hearts arise.
wing, Above the powers of hell;
Let every voice in accents tower,
Till heavenly blessings on us pour Down through the parting skies.
Until with God we do prevail,
And view the kings within the veil, And in his presence dwell.

3. Hosanna, let the angels say
Who dwell in realms of endless day
With Enoch's perfect band;
Amen, amen, let earth resound,
And all the saints where'er they're found

A RISE , O soul, and gird thee up anew,
Though the black camel Death kneel at thy gate;
No beggar thou that thou for alms shouldst sue;
Be the proud captain still of thine own fate!

1. Arise, my soul! With rapture rise! And, filled with
3. But can it be that power divine Whose throne is
love and fear, adore The awful Sovereign
light's unbounded blaze, While countless worlds and
of the skies, Whose mercy lends me one day more.
angels join To swell the glorious song of praise.
2. And may this day, indulgent power! Not idly
4. Will deign to lend a favoring ear. When I, poor
pass, nor fruitless be, But may each swiftly
abject mortal pray? Yes, boundless goodness!
flying hour Advance my soul more nigh to thee.

At Viscount Nelson's lavish funeral,
While the mob milled and yelled about St Paul's,
A General chatted with an Admiral:

" One of your Colleagues, Sir, remarked today
That Nelson's exit , though to be lamented,
Falls not inopportunely, in its way."

" He was Athorn in our flesh," came the reply —
" The most bird-witted, unaccountable,
Odd little runt that ever I did spy.

" One arm, one peeper, vain as Pretty Poll,

1. Arise and see the glorious sun Mount
2. How fresh the healthful morning air, What
in the eastern sky; See with what majes-
fragrance breathes around! New luster paints each
ty he comes, What splendor strikes the eye.
opening flow'r, New verdure clothes the ground.

3. The trees that shade its flowery banks
Are nourished by the flood,
Whilst from their branches songsters sweet
Re-echo through the wood.

4. Oh! Let us then with souls sincere
Adore that power divine;
Who makes that orb move thus complete,

An Argentine gaucho named Bruno
Declared, "There is one thing I do know:
A woman is fine
And a boy is divine,
But a llama is numero uno.'

Are you standing at Wit's-End Corner,
Christian with troubled brow?
Are you thinking of what is before you,
And all you are bearing now?
Does all the world seem against you,
And you in the battle alone?
Remember — at Wit's-End Corner
Is just where God's power is shown.

Are you standing at Wit's-End Corner
Blinded with wearying pain,
Feeling you cannot endure it,
You cannot bear the strain?
Bruised through the constant suffering,
Dizzy and dazed and dumb?
Remember — at Wit's-End Corner
Is where Jesus loves to come.

" Are you ready, O Virginia,
Alabama, Tennessee?
People of the Southland, answer!
For the land hath need of thee. "
" Here! " from sandy Rio Grande.
Where the Texan horsemen ride;
" Here! " the hunters of Kentucky
Hail from Chatterawah's side;
Every toiler in the cotton,
Every rugged mountaineer,
Velvet-voiced and iron-handed,
Lifts his head to answer, " Here!
Some remain who charged with Pickett,
Some survive who followed Lee;
They shall lead their sons to battle
For the flag, if need there be. "

Are you asking where I'm going with these sad faces
and the bubbling of wounded veins on my forehead?

I'm going to cast roses into the sea,
to vanish under waves higher than the birds,
to pull out roads that by now had burrowed through me like roots ...

I'm going to give up stars,
and dews,
and the brief rivulets where I loved the passion that ravaged my mountains,
and a special cooing
of doves,
and words

I am going to remain alone, without songs or skin,
like the inside of a tunnel,

A RE YOU ALMOST DISGUSTED with life, little man?
I'll tell you a wonderful trick
That will bring you contentment, if anything can,
Do something for somebody, quick!

Are you awfully tired with play, little girl?
Wearied, discouraged, and sick —
I'll tell you the loveliest game in the world,
Do something for somebody, quick!

Though it rains, like the rain of the flood, little man,
And the clouds are forbidding and thick,
You can make the sun shine in your soul, little man,
Do something for somebody, quick!