THE MISSION OF REFORMERS.
YE that for progress would be aught achieving,
Worthy your sacred mission on this sphere,
And in life's woof the golden threads be weaving;
To fill with an immortal beauty here;
Rouse for the contest—'tis no time to falter—
Wage endless war 'gainst folly, vice and crime;
And send the whip, the bottle and the halter
To slumber with the creeds of ancient time. Long have man's wrongs been waiting to be righted;
But now the promised hour approaches fast;
The beacon fires on many a hill are lighted,
And the stern war-cry rises on the blast,
That shout has raised your enemies from slumber,
And as one man against you they unite;
Yet earnest hearts, however few in number,
When once in arms must triumph in the fight. Your cause is holy: 'tis to guide the erring,
To lead the blind, and make the deaf to hear;
To win to virtue those who, vice preferring,
Plunge in the slough of crime without a fear.
To snatch from jaws of death the infant sinner,
To tear from sensual vice the yielding prey,
To aid with hope the resolute beginner,
Turn his face heavenward, and speed the way. But ere the heart be thus regenerated,
Many a daring heart and hand it needs;
For those who act, thus far the cause has waited;
The age of progress asks not words but deeds.
Go then ye workers in the great progression,
Lift up your erring brothers from the dust,
And let no soul that bears a God's impression,
In crime or idleness corrupt or rust.