ver, ah, never, I'll see him arise,
Lost warmth of my bosom, lost light of my eyes!

Songs to Music

BATTLE HYMN

(Written to an old Irish Air)

Above the thunder crashes,
Around the lightning flashes:
Our heads are heaped with ashes
But Thou, God, art nigh!
Thou launchest forth the levin,
The storm by Thee is driven,
Give heed, O Lord, from Heaven,
Hear, hear our cry!

For lo, the Dane defaces
With fire Thy holy places,
He hews Thy priests in pieces,
Our maids more than die.
Up, Lord, with storm and thunder,
Pursue him with his plunder,
And smite his ships in sunder,
Lord God Most High!

THE SONG OF THE WOODS

(To an Irish Air of the same name)

Not only where Thy blessed bells
Peal afar for praise and prayer,
Or where Thy solemn organ swells,
Lord, not only art Thou there.
Thy voice of many waters
From out the ocean comfort speaks,
Thy Presence to a radiant rose
Thrills a thousand virgin peaks.

And here, where in one wondrous woof--
Aisle on aisle and choir on choir--
To rear Thy rarest temple roof,
Pillared oak and pine aspire;
Life-weary here we wander,
When lo! the Saviour's gleaming stole!
'Tis caught unto our craving lips,
Kissed and straightway we are whole.

THE ENCHANTED VALLEY

(To an Irish Air of the same name)

I will go where lilies blow
Beside the flow of languid streams,
Within that vale of opal glow,
Where bright-winged dreams flutter to and fro,
Fain am I its magic peace to know.

Beware! beware of that valley fair!
All dwellers there to phantoms turn,
For joys and griefs they have none to share,
Tho' ever they yearn life's burdens to bear,
Ah! of that valley beware, beware!

REMEMBER THE POOR

(Founded on an Irish Ballad of the name)

Oh! remember the poor when your fortune is sure,
And acre to acre you join;
Oh! remember the poor, though but slender your store
And you ne'er can go gallant and fine.
Oh! remember the poor when they cry at your door
In the raging rain and blast;
Call them in! Cheer them up with the bite and the sup,
Till they leave you their blessing at last.

The red fox has his lair, and each bird of the air
With the night settles warm in his nest,
But the King Who laid down His celestial crown
For our sakes--He had nowhere to rest.
Oh! the