gh!
See, its cross is o'er thee!
Christ, the Lord, is nigh!

THE SPADE AND ANCHOR.

Christian, hast thou left us--
Left the battle line?
Idling, straggling, wand'ring,
Heedless of the sign?
Hark! the trumpet calls thee!
With us heart and hand
Raise the Spade and Anchor!
Strike for Sea and Land!

John Hopkins Denison.

THE SHADOW OF THE WALL

Let us stay a while and listen to the voices of the past,
Softly echoing, vaguely lingering, e'er they fade away at last,
Dreaming in a dusky corner of the quaint, blue-panelled pew
While the massive walls of granite shut the hurrying crowds from view,
And the street's loud clang and clatter, screams of rage and cries of pain,
And the endless plodding, thudding, of tired feet in quest of gain
Muffled by a shroud of silence sounds a thousand miles away,
And the past is hovering round us with its ghostly, dim array,
Flitting by in vague procession, up the aisleway, down the hall,
While we lurk here, snugly sheltered, shadowed by the massive wall.

Stately dominies, wig-powdered, all in gowns of silk arrayed;
Fairest dames, slim and high-waisted, clad in flowered, quaint brocade;
Smart young captains, bold as pirates, with their slaves all gaunt and black;
Stout old Dutchmen and their ladies, gowned as in a miller's sack--
How they flit past in the gloaming, thru the huge, high-vaulted hall,
While we lurk here, snugly sheltered, shadowed by the massive wall.

Others come, some wan and haggard, heavy-lined and weary-eyed;
Some with faces flushed and fevered, hearts aflame and hands fast tied.
Others stand with frozen heart-strings, bitter, haughty, desolate;
Some creep past in shame, fresh quivering from some thrust of scorn or hate.
In they throng, all seeking respite from the cruel world's maddening call,
Seeking peace in the dim silence, shadowed by the massive wall.

Other voices, sweet and child-like, linger in the dusky vault,
Cries of babes and tiny maidens, sweet since free from conscious fault,
Here they gather, brown and rosy, golden-haired and crowned with jet,
Glowing cheeks and eyes that dance, where innocence and joy are met.
While without are screams and curses, loathsome vice and drunken brawls,
Here within, God's flowers are sheltered in the shadow of these walls.

Still they stand, a hold unshaken, while the turbid stream of life
Swirls around their bulwar