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THE PICTURE.
The soul that waited not for time,
But sprang at once to perfect flower,
When the first peal of freedom's chime
Rang out for the appointed hour;
The answering cry, the answering hand,
Which brooked no weak or base delay,
But, swift for God and native land,
Flung life and all it loved away;
But sprang at once to perfect flower,
When the first peal of freedom's chime
Rang out for the appointed hour;
The answering cry, the answering hand,
Which brooked no weak or base delay,
But, swift for God and native land,
Flung life and all it loved away;
Yet saw beyond his loss the gain,
And laid, with step that would not falter,
His blessed gift of love and pain,
An offering fair, on Freedom's altar:
Wrapped all the future from his sight,
Thrust back the ties he might not sever,
Then proud, as one who walks in light,
Gave up himself to God forever!
And laid, with step that would not falter,
His blessed gift of love and pain,
An offering fair, on Freedom's altar:
Wrapped all the future from his sight,
Thrust back the ties he might not sever,
Then proud, as one who walks in light,
Gave up himself to God forever!
