The earliest poem in this division was my youthful tribute to the great

reformer when himself a young man he was first sounding his trumpet in

Essex County. I close with the verses inscribed to him at the end of his

earthly career, May 24, 1879. My poetical service in the cause of

freedom is thus almost synchronous with his life of devotion to the

same cause.

THE storm and peril overpast,

The hounding hatred shamed and still,

Go, soul of freedom! take at last

The place which thou alone canst fill.

Confirm the lesson taught of old--

Life saved for self is lost, while they

Who lose it in His service hold

The lease of God's eternal day.

Not for thyself, but for the slave

Thy words of thunder shook the world;

No selfish griefs or hatred gave

The strength wherewith thy bolts were hurled.

From lips that Sinai's trumpet blew

We heard a tender under song;

Thy very wrath from pity grew,

From love of man thy hate of wrong.

Now past and present are as one;

The life below is life above;

Thy mortal years have but begun

Thy immortality of love.

With somewhat of thy lofty faith

We lay thy outworn garment by,

Give death but what belongs to death,

And life the life that cannot die!

Not for a soul like thine the calm

Of selfish ease and joys of sense;

But duty, more than crown or palm,

Its own exceeding recompense.

Go up and on thy day well done,

Its morning promise well fulfilled,

Arise to triumphs yet unwon,

To holier tasks that God has willed.

Go, leave behind thee all that mars

The work below of man for man;

With the white legions of the stars

Do service such as angels can.

Wherever wrong shall right deny

Or suffering spirits urge their plea,

Be thine a voice to smite the lie,

A hand to set the captive free!

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