Part 5 (2/2)

And tastes objectionable oft, May on life's harp-strings jar, Producing irritation And much domestic war.

The little word in the right place, The gentle touches, tones, The watchful loving sympathy, Which for so much atones, Are potent means which moral force Finds it the best to wield, For 'neath their mystic influence, Most hearts are bound to yield.

Oh! for this love that conquers self, That binds us to our kind, That raises us to heaven and G.o.d, And purifies the mind!

Ecstatic, sweet, rekindling power, Bright altar-fire sublime, Most precious gift to mortals given, That will outlive all time.

The Rubicon is past when wed, And there is no retreat, Brave hearts should then accept the lot, Which none but they can meet.

'Tis always wise and safe to choose The heaven directed course Of ruling by all-conquering love, Than by the rod of force.

Let home be made a sacred shrine, The best, most cherished spot, All others then will surely be Deserted and forgot.

Each should uphold the other self, Before the world's keen sight; In thus upholding, each will keep His honour doubly bright.

Like Graecian vestals who of yore Believed no duty higher Than tending night and day the flame Of the celestial fire, So let the broad world's denizens Foster this heart-fire bright, Which can their pilgrimage on earth Illume with glorious light.

Domestic bliss, how beautiful!

No idol is so fair.

Set in the royalty of love, What can with it compare?

Models of virtue are the homes Where this blest power holds sway, Where parents' words suffice to move Their offspring to obey.

I know of such a happy home, Where love-signs rarely cease, And 'tis in very truth a throne Of harmony and peace.

Nature's grand law of order there, Reigns with exactness sure The wheels of time glide smoothly through An atmosphere so pure.

A group of healthy children six Their happy parents meet, For breakfast where food, simple, pure, Their hungry senses greet.

Those budding blossoms of the home With joy-lit life appear, A daily morning glory they, So neat, clean, trim and dear.

No wonder if the father's soul, Wors.h.i.+ps his darling bride, No wonder if his manly heart, Swells with delighted pride: For does she not make home a shrine, Where love and duty vie To honour, through her peerless love, Their holy marriage tie?

He daily leaves his happy home, Next heaven the holiest place, Strengthened by her sweet words and kiss, For action in life's race.

And she through all her daily rounds, Thinks foremost of the one, Who no less now than years ago, Her steadfast love has won.

G.o.d bless them in their happy home!

G.o.d bless their children nine!

And may they through a peaceful life, Ever in love combine, To aid and cheer each other here, And when this life is past, Be reunited in that life Which will for ever last.

Such homes of cheerful industry, Of order, thrift and care, Sweetly reflect on those whose minds, Their thrice blest precincts share.

And since 'tis in the reach of most To make a home like this.

What pity that e'en one refuse To win such priceless bliss.

People there are who ceaseless moan, Their hard and cruel fate, Yet never see their course is wrong, Until alas! too late; To such the axiom I'd repeat, That 'tis G.o.d's righteous will, To help all those who help themselves, Life's duties to fulfil.

'Tis written upon every life With which we mingle here, And throughout nature's wide domain It also doth appear, That all unchanging are G.o.d's laws, Their consequences sure; That as we choose to sow we reap, Fruit holy or impure.

Trace the effects of idleness, Extravagance and play, Of self-indulgence, vice and pride, And then reflecting say, It was not stern Nemesis' part, To punish each, as cause Of retribution to himself For breaking nature's laws.

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