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Page 399 - Were beating like prisoners assaulting their walls, Impatient to be where the battle-field calls ; Every nerve of the charger was strained to full play, With Sheridan only ten miles away. "Under his spurning feet, the road Like an arrowy Alpine river flowed, And the landscape sped away behind, Like an ocean flying before the wind ; And the steed like a bark fed with furnace ire, Swept on with his wild eye full of fire.
Page 437 - And the choice goes by forever 'twixt that darkness and that light. Hast thou chosen, O my people, on whose party thou shalt stand, Ere the Doom from its worn sandals shakes the dust against our land ? Though the cause of Evil prosper, yet 'tis Truth alone is strong, And, albeit she wander outcast now, I see around her throng Troops of beautiful, tall angels, to enshield her from all wrong.
Page 453 - Blondin, stand up a little straighter — Blondin, stoop a little more — go a little faster — lean a little more to the north — lean a little more to the south?
Page 437 - Once to every man and nation comes the moment to decide, In the strife of Truth with Falsehood, for the good or evil side ; Some great cause, God's new Messiah, offering each the bloom or blight, Parts the goats upon the left hand, and the sheep upon the right, And the choice goes by forever 'twixt that darkness and that light.
Page 103 - In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea. With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me; As he died to make men holy, let us die to make men free. While God is marching on.
Page 388 - Then out spake brave Horatius, The Captain of the Gate : "To every man upon this earth Death cometh soon or late; And how can man die better Than facing fearful odds For the ashes of his fathers And the temples of his Gods...
Page 399 - But there is a road from Winchester town, A good, broad highway leading down; And there, through the flush of the morning light, A steed as black as the steeds of night Was seen to pass as with eagle flight...
Page 103 - He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword; His truth is marching on. I have seen Him in the watch-fires of a hundred circling camps; They have builded Him an altar in the evening dews and damps; I can read His righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps: His day is marching on. I have read a fiery gospel writ in burnished rows of steel; "As ye deal with my condemners, so with you my grace shall deal; Let the Hero, born of woman, crush the serpent with his heel, Since God...