THE GOOD TIME COMING.

THERE's a good time coming, boys,
A good time coming:

We may not live to see the day,
But earth shall glisten in the ray
Of the good time coming.
Cannon balls may aid the truth,

But thought's a weapon stronger⚫ We'll win our battle by its aid;—

Wait a little longer.

There's a good time coming, boys,

A good time coming:

The pen shall supersede the sword;
And Right, not Might, shall be the lord

In the good time coming.

Worth, not Birth, shall rule mankind,

And be acknowledged stronger; The proper impulse has been given;Wait a little longer.

There's a good time coming, boys,

A good time coming:

War in all men's eyes shall be
A monster of iniquity

In the good time coming.
Nations shall not quarrel then,

To prove which is the stronger; Nor slaughter men for glory 's sake;— Wait a little longer.

There's a good time coming, boys,

A good time coming: Hateful rivalries of creed

Shall not make their martyrs bleed

In the good time coming.
Religion shall be shorn of pride,

And flourish all the stronger;
And Charity shall trim her lamp ;-
Wait a little longer.

There's a good time coming, boys,

A good time coming: And a poor man's family Shall not be his misery

In the good time coming. Every child shall be a help

To make his right arm stronger; The happier he the more he has ;Wait a little longer.

685

From Ninus' Temple, and Nimrod's Tower, The rule of the old East's empire spread Unreasoning faith and unquestioned powerBut still, Is it come? the watcher said.

The light of the Persian's worshipped flame, The ancient bondage its splendor threw; And once, on the West a sunrise came, When Greece to her Freedom's trust was true;

With dreams to the utmost ages dear,

With human gods, and with god-like men, No marvel the far-off day seemed near,

To eyes that looked through her laurels then.

The Romans conquered, and revelled too, Till honor, and faith, and power, were gone;

And deeper old Europe's darkness grew,

As, wave after wave, the Goth came on. The gown was learning, the sword was law;

The people served in the oxen's stead; But ever some gleam the watcher saw, And evermore, Is it come? they said.

Poet and seer that question caught,

Above the din of life's fears and frets; It marched with letters, it toiled with thought, Through schools and creeds which the

earth forgets.

And statesmen trifle, and priests deceive, And traders barter our world awayYet hearts to that golden promise cleave, And still, at times, Is it come? they say.

The days of the nations bear no trace

Of all the sunshine so far foretold; The cannon speaks in the teacher's placeThe age is weary with work and gold, And high hopes wither, and memories wane; On hearths and altars the fires are dead; But that brave faith hath not lived in vainAnd this is all that our watcher said.

FRANCES BROWN.

IF THAT WERE TRUE!

'Tis long ago, we have toiled and traded,
Have lost and fretted, have gained and grieved,
Since last the light of that fond faith faded;
But, friends-in its day-what we believed!
The poets' dreams and the peasants' stories—
O, never will time that trust renew!
Yet they were old on the earth before us,
And lovely tales,-had they been true!

Some spake of homes in the greenwood hidden,

Where age was fearless and youth was freeWhere none at life's board seemed guests

unbidden,

But men had years like the forest tree:
Goodly and fair and full of summer,
As lives went by when the world was new,
Ere ever the angel steps passed from her,-
O, dreamers and bards, if that were true!

Some told us of a stainless standard—
Of hearts that only in death grew cold,
Whose march was ever in freedom's van-
guard,

And not to be stayed by steel or gold.
The world to their very graves was debtor-
The tears of her love fell there like dew;
But there had been neither slave nor fetter
This day in her realms, had that been true!

Our hope grew strong as the giant-slayer.
They told that life was an honest game,
Where fortune favored the fairest player,
And only the false found loss and blame-
That men were honored for gifts and graces,
And not for the prizes folly drew;

But there would be many a change of places, In hovel and hall, if that were true!

Some said to our silent souls, What fear ye?
And talked of a love not based on clay-
Of faith that would neither wane nor weary,
With all the dust of the pilgrim's day;
They said that Fortune and Time were chang-
ers,

But not by their tides such friendship grew;
O, we had never been trustless strangers
Among our people, if that were true!

Then I said, "I covet truth;

Beauty is unripe childhood's cheat

I leave it behind with the games of youth."
As I spoke, beneath my feet

The ground-pine curled its pretty wreath,
Running over the club-moss burrs;
I inhaled the violet's breath;
Around me stood the oaks and firs;
Pine-cones and acorns lay on the ground;
Over me soared the eternal sky,
Full of light and of deity;
Again I saw, again I heard,
The rolling river, the morning bird;
Beauty through my senses stole-
I yielded myself to the perfect whole.

RALPH WALDO EMERSON