[This poem should be delivered with great energy, life, and spirit. The speaker should catch the noble sentiment of the theme.]

"There has been the cry-On to Richmond!' And still another cry-On to England!' Better than either is the cry-'On to Freedom!'"

CHARLES SUMNER.

On to Freedom! On to Freedom!

'Tis the everlasting cry

Of the floods that strive with ocean

Of the storms that smite the sky;

Of the atoms in the whirlwind,
Of the seed beneath the ground-
Of each living thing in Nature
That is bound!

'Twas the cry that led from Egypt,
Through the desert wilds of Edom:
Out of darkness-out of bondage—
On to Freedom! On to Freedom!

O! thou stony-hearted Pharaoh !
Vainly warrest thou with God!
Moveless, at thy palace portals,
Moses waits, with lifted rod !
O! thou poor barbarian, Xerxes!
Vainly o'er the Pontic main
Flingest thou, to curb its utterance,
Scourge or chain !

For the cry that led from Egypt,
Over desert wilds of Edom,

Speaks alike through Greek and Hebrew !
On to Freedom! On to Freedom!

In the Roman streets with Gracchus,
Hark! I hear that cry outswell;
In the German woods, with Hermann
And on Switzer hills, with Tell!
Up from Spartacus, the bondman,
When his tyrants' yoke he clave,
And from stalwart Wat the Tyler-
Saxon Slave !

Still the old, old cry of Egypt,

Stuggling up from wilds of EdomSounding still through all the ages: On to Freedom! On to Freedom!

On to Freedom! On to Freedom!
Gospel cry of laboring Time:
Uttering still through seers and sages.
Words of hope and faith sublime!

From our Sidneys, and our Hampdens
And our Washingtons they come :
And we cannot-and we dare not
Make them dumb!

Out of all the shames of Egypt-
Out of all the snares of Edom;

Out of darkness-out of bondage-
On to Freedom! On to Freedom!

DUGANNE.

THE OLD MAN

IN THE MODEL

CHURCH.

[The reciter should read this piece in an ordinary tone, the voice slightly tremulous. Those who are capable of impersonating an old man will find favorable opportunity here.]

Well, wife, I've found the model church! I worshiped there to day!
It made me think of good old times before my hair was gray;
The meetin'-house was fixed up more than they were years ago,
But then I felt, when I went in, it wasn't built for show.

The sexton didn't seat me away back by the door ;

He knew that I was old and deaf, as well as old and poor;
He must have been a Christian, for he lead me boldly through
The long aisle of that crowded church to find a pleasant pew.

I wish you'd heard' the singin'; it had the old-time ring,

The preacher said, with trumpet voice: "Let all the people sing! The tune was Coronation," the music upward rolled,

Till I thought I heard the angels striking all their harps of gold

My deafness seemed to melt away; my spirit caught the fire;
I joined my feeble, trembling voice with that melodious choir,
And sang as in my youthful days: "Let angels prostrate fall
Bring forth the royal diadem, and crown him Lord of all."

I tell you, wife, it did me good to sing that hymn once more;
I felt like some wrecked mariner who gets a glimpse of shore