Victor Is He!

Victor is he whose tremulous soul the notes Of starry spaces hears, their far appeal, And cries "Amen!" and sets thereto the seal With which winged aspiration life devotes! That seal rays golden flame, and bright connotes The transmutation through the spirit's zeal Of earthly passions to the high anneal That rings the harmony that heavenward floats.

While other triremes vain withstood the guile, The lyric prow of Orpheus easeful past In gladsome scorn's disdain the Sirens' Isle; And proud Calliope o'er each black mast Whispered her thrilling taunt in ears of pain: "I taught my Thracian boy a heavenlier strain!"

McMASTER UNIVERSITY.

As some grey captain of a merchantship, Whose prosperous voyage o'er the watery strife Has large concern for all, knows that his wife Waits his home-coming up the horizon's dip With holier heart than crowds that throng the slip, So He well knew, thou--flower-elect of life! Chosen from out a clamor of voices rife-- Waitedst his voyage o'er with prayerful lip.

Fair Bride, forget him not through circling years! But with a Christ-like love, deep as unfeigned Surpassing that of commerce or of state, With holy hands thy dower devote with tears Of gratitude and loyal heart unstained; Thy sacred vow perform with soul elate.

CONDUCT.

Nay, Arnold, not "three-fourths" but all "of life"! The ethic spirit that makes conduct so, Slays all mythologies and witchcrafts, lo, False sciences as well, with ruthless knife, Lest intercourse of human souls be rife With demi-gods and unclean things below, And work corruption at the founts that flow, From hearts of fellowmen in loving strife.

That spirit more than science is the hope Of man's uplifting, and doth knowledge make Servant of individual, social worth. Not truth for truth's own sake, as tense we cope With life, but rather truth for love's own sake Calls forth heaven's plaudit round the girdled earth.

INTERNATIONAL ARBITRATION.

Boom, boom, ye mellow joy-bells, like the sea! Peace, peace on earth, good-will! (and all hell gapes!)-- Yet immemorial sadness ever drapes The upward way of far humanity: All prone through dark and strait Gethsemane Thou cam'st in blood, a cluster of trod grapes!-- O bruisëd race, whose wail so surgeful shapes Melodious sorrow's awful threnody!

Late, late, love's Areopagus unfurled Right-reason's sun-glad banner from the height, While rage the Furies in their cave beneath! Hush, hush, it is the daybreak of the world! Man's warring sky is passing out of night, And stark black demons flit with sword in sheath.

THE HOUSE OF GOD.