Volume Iii Part 38 (2/2)

For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place The flood may bear me far, I hope to see my Pilot face to face When I have crossed the bar.

ALFRED TENNYSON.

RECESSIONAL.

A VICTORIAN ODE.

G.o.d of our fathers, known of old-- Lord of our far-flung battle line-- Beneath whose awful hand we hold Dominion over palm and pine-- Lord G.o.d of Hosts, be with us yet, Lest we forget--lest we forget!

The tumult and the shouting dies-- The Captains and the Kings depart-- Still stands Thine ancient sacrifice, An humble and a contrite heart.

Lord G.o.d of Hosts, be with us yet, Lest we forget--lest we forget!

Far-called, our navies melt away-- On dune and headland sinks the fire-- Lo, all our pomp of yesterday Is one with Nineveh and Tyre!

Judge of the Nations, spare us yet Lest we forget--lest we forget!

If, drunk with sight of power, we loose Wild tongues that have not Thee in awe-- Such boasting as the Gentiles use, Or lesser breeds without the Law-- Lord G.o.d of Hosts, be with us yet, Lest we forget--lest we forget!

For heathen heart that puts her trust In reeking tube and iron shard-- All valiant dust that builds on dust, And guarding calls not Thee to guard-- For frantic boast and foolish word, Thy Mercy on Thy People, Lord! _Amen._

RUDYARD KIPLING.

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