[30] tree. the cross.

[31] Beautiful Gate.  See John, x, 7.

[32] temple of God in Man.  “Know ye not that your body is the temple of the Holy Ghost?” I Cor., vi, 19.

[33] See Luke, xxii, 19, 20.

[34] hangbird. oriole.

  THE BUILDERS.

  All are architects of Fate,
    Working in these walls of Time,[1]
  Some with massive deeds and great,
    Some with ornaments of rhyme.

  Nothing useless is, or low; 5
    Each thing in its plane is best;
  And what seems but idle show
    Strengthens and supports the rest.

  For the structure that we raise,
    Time is with materials filled; 10
  Our to-days and yesterdays
    Are the blocks with which we build.

  Truly shape and fashion these;
    Leave no yawning gaps between;
  Think not, because no man sees, 15
    Such things will remain unseen.

  In the elder days of Art,
    Builders wrought with greatest care
  Each minute and unseen part;
    For the Gods see everywhere. 20

  Let us do our work as well,
    Both the unseen and the seen;
  Make the house, where Gods may dwell,
    Beautiful, entire and clean.

  Else our lives are incomplete, 25
    Standing in these walls of Time,
  Broken stairways, where the feet
    Stumble as they seek to climb.

  Build to-day, then, strong and sure
    With a firm and ample base 30
  And ascending and secure
    Shall to-morrow find its place.

  Thus alone can we attain
    To those turrets, where the eye
  Sees the world as one vast plain, 35
    And one boundless reach of sky.[2]

      —­Longfellow.

[1] The figure seems to be that of a great edifice (Time) within which we are building stairways (our lives) which enable us to rise to higher levels.

[2] We gain a broader outlook on life.

  BRITISH FREEDOM.[1]

  It is not to be thought of that the flood
  Of British freedom, which, to the open sea
  Of the world’s praise, from dark antiquity
  Hath flow’d “with pomp of waters unwithstood”—­[2]
  Roused though it be full often to a mood, 5
  Which spurns the check of salutary bands,
  That this most famous stream in bogs and sands
  Should perish,[3] and to evil and to good
  Be lost for ever.  In our halls is hung
  Armoury of the invincible knights of old:  10
  We must be free or die, who speak the tongue
  That Shakspeare spake—­the faith and morals hold
  Which Milton held.  In everything we’re sprung
  Of earth’s first blood, have titles manifold.

      —­Wordsworth.