Out of the Depths

BY ELLA WHEELER WILCOX.

Out of the midnight, rayless and cheerless, into the morning's golden light;

Out of the clutches of wrong and ruin, into the arms of truth and right;

Out of the ways that are ways of sorrow, out of the paths that are paths of pain;

Yea, out of the depths has a soul arisen, and "one that was lost is found again!"

Lost in the sands of an awful desert, lost in the region of imps accursed,

With bones of victims to mark his pathway, and burning lava to quench his thirst;

Lost in the darkness, astray in the shadows; Father above, do we pray in vain?

Hark, on the winds come gleeful tidings-lo, he was lost but is found again.

Found, and the sunlight of God's great mercy dispels the shadows and brings the morn;

Found, and the hosts of the dear Redeemer are shouting aloud o'er a soul new born,

Plucked, like a brand, from the conflagration; cleaned, like a garment, free from stain;

Saved, pray God, for ever and ever; lost for a season, but found again.

"Out of the depths" by the grace of heaven, out of the depth of woe and shame,

And he blots his name from the roll of drunkards, to carve it again on the heights of fame;

"Wine is a mocker, and strong drink raging;" glory to God, He has snapped the chain

That bound him with fetters of steel and iron, and he that was lost is found again.

Down with the cup, though it gleam like rubies; down with the glass, though it sparkle and shine;

"It bites like a serpent and stings like an adder;" there is woe, and sorrow, and shame in wine.

Keen though the sword be, and deadly its mission, three times its numbers, the wine-cup has slain,

God, send Thy grace unto those it has fettered; God grant the lost may be found again.

The Two Glasses

BY ELLA WHEELER WILCOX.

There sat two glasses, filled to the brim,
On a rich man's table, rim to rim,
One was ruddy and red as blood
And one was clear as the crystal flood.

Said the glass of wine to his paler brother,
"Let us tell tales of the past to each other.
I can tell of banquet and revel and mirth,
Where I was king, for I ruled in might;
And the proudest and grandest soul on earth
Fell under my touch, as though struck with blight.
From the heads of kings I have torn the crown;
From the height of fame, I have hurled men down;
I have blasted many an honored name;

I have taken virtue and given shame;

I have tempted the youth with a sip or a taste,
That has made his future a barren waste.

Far greater than any king am I,

Or than any army under the sky.

I have made the arm of the driver fail,
And sent the train from its iron rail.

I have made good ships go down at sea,
And the shrieks of the lost were sweet to me.
Fame, strength, wealth, genius, before me fall,
And my might and power are over all!
Ho! Ho! pale brother," laughed the wine,
"Can you boast of deeds as great as mine?"

Said the glass of water, "I cannot boast
Of a king dethroned, or a murdered host;
But I can tell of hearts that were sad,

By my crystal drops made light and glad;

Of thirsts I have quenched and brows I have laved;
Of hands I have cooled, and souls I have saved.

I have leaped through the valley and dashed down the mountain;

Slept in the sunshine and dripped from the fountain. I have burst my cloud fetters, and dropped from the sky,

And everywhere gladdened the landscape and eye.

I have eased the hot forehead of fever and pain;

I have made the parched meadows grow fertile with grain.

I can tell of the powerful wheel o' the mill,

That ground out the flour, and turned at my will;

I can tell of the manhood debased by you

That I have uplifted and crowned anew.
I cheer, I help, I comfort, and aid,
I gladden the heart of man and maid;
I set the chained wine captive free,
And all are better for knowing me.'

These are the tales they told each other,
The glass of wine and his paler brother,
As they sat together, filled to the brim,
On the rich man's table, rim to rim.

Each year the amount now paid for intoxicating drinks of all kinds at retail exceeds a billion and a half dollars.

Ninety per cent. of the drinking Americans have foreign-born grandparents.

The saloon is a day school, a night school, a vacation school, a Sunday-school, a kindergarten, a college and a university all in one. It runs without term-ends, vacations or holidays.-Harry S. Warner.

A Hero

BY ELLA WHEELER WILCOX.

I am a hero!

No; I'm not chaffing;

I mean what I say,

So please stop your laughing.

I carry no musket,

I've not been to battle, Where great shells explode And big cannons rattle.

I can show you no deep scars,
And tell you no story

Of fierce, bloody fights

That crowned me with glory.

Yet I am a hero,

Without any joking;

For I have declared war

Against drinking and smoking

And tobacco chewing and gaming;
The boys all abused me,
Called me "spooney" and "soft,"
Laughed at and misused me.

But I care not a farthing,

I obeyed my heart's teaching,

Put those things below me,

And kept reaching and reaching

To great truths and precepts

That lead to salvation;

So am I a hero,

In this mighty nation.

Victims of a Demon

BY ELLA WHEELER WILCOX.

In the silent midnight watches,

When the earth was wrapped in gloom
And the grim and awful darkness
Crept unbidden to my room,

On the solemn, deathly stillness
Of the night there broke a sound
Like ten million wailing voices
Crying loudly from the ground:

We, the victims of a demon,

We, who one and each and all, Can cry out before high Heaven "We are slain by Alcohol!"

We would warn you, youths and maidens

From the path that we have trod

From the path that leads to ruin,

And away from Peace and God.

We, the millions who have fallen,
Warn you from the ruddy glow
Of the wine in silver goblets,

For destruction lies below.
Wine and gin and rum and brandy,
Whiskey, cider, ale and beer,
These have slain us and destroyed us-
These the foes that brought us here.

We beseech you, men and women-
Fathers, mothers, husbands, wives-
To arise and slay the demon

That is threatening dear ones' lives.
Do not preach of moderation
To your children, for, alas!
There is not a foe more subtle
Than the fateful social glass.