3 JULY 1915, Page 25

JUNE, 1915.

0 NArurtn, we arraign thee now Because a smile is on thy face, And woodlands wear their wonted grace,

And birds sing joy on every bough ;

And nothing heeds the grief of Man, The war, the wounds, the agony, The broken heart, the helpless cry, The end of hope ere hope began.

Thy heart is greater than our grief, Thy bosom wider than our woo; The sympathy thou dost not shovr Is huger than the hour's relief.

I rest me in thine arms secure; Come what death may to me or mine,

Thou art undying and divine ; All that I live for shall endure.

F. W. BOURBILLON.