PEACE AT THE GOAL.

From the soul of a man who was homeless Came the deathless song of home. And the praises of rest are chanted best By those who are forced to roam.

In a time of fast and hunger, We can talk over feasts divine; But the banquet done, why, where is the one Who can tell you the taste of the wine?

We think of the mountain’s grandeur As we walk in the heat afar— But when we sit in the shadows of it We think how at rest we are.

With the voice of the craving passions We can picture a love to come. But the heart once filled, lo, the voice is stilled, And we stand in the silence—dumb.