POETRY.
GOOD FRIDAY.* ALL, all was dark; not one small gleam of light, When suddenly, thro' Golgotha, from off the Tree
A voice re-echoed, crying in the night, " My God, hest Thou forsaken Me? "
We do not know what caused this awful sigh; Perhaps for half an instant seemed the load Of mankind's sins too great, and Death as nigh, An instant only—then He faced the Road.
And new from many a stricken wife and child In homestead, but and house no longer free There echoes forth from lips with fear half wild, "My God, host Thou forsaken me?"
Comes from the air a whisper soft and calm, " 0 ! whose fights for Good now, I am thine; Send Me an answer from the world's alarm, Tell Me, 0 People : who to-day are Mine? "
A shout of thunder cleaves the hollow sky,
And allied thousands, trenched in the sod, With hearts and eyes uplift, in worship cry, " We fight for Thee, we fight for Thee, 0 God."
And Russia, strong and simple, starts the praise, " Lead, Lord, we follow, we the pure in heart, Throughout the realms of Muscovy we raise Glad hymns to Thee, Who great, all powerful art."
And France—ah ! blessed France, clasps firm her sword- " Let Atheists rave and critics say their say, Our noble land belongeth to the Lord,
And pledgeth Him with blood from day to day.".
And Belgium whispers, lying hurt yet strong : " You know, 0 God, the things we have to bear You know our innocence, we did no wrong; We trust in Thee, and trusting lose our fear."
The Empire answers, steadfast, stately, still, From shore to shore, from each unending tide : "As our forefathers kept the Faith, we will;
Thou know'st we will : remember those that died.
We d3 not fight this war from greed of gain; We strive that others after may be free; And while our bodies brave the chance of pain, With holy prayers we trust our souls to Thee."
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