Ballad.

Rise, sons of merry England, from mountain and from plain; Let each light up his spirit, let none unmoved remain; The morning is before you, and glorious is the sun; Rise up, and do your blessed work before the day be done. 'Come help us, come and help us,''--from the valley and the hill To the ear of God in heaven are the cries ascending still; The soul that wanteth knowledge, the flesh that wanteth food;-- Arise, ye sons of England,--go about doing good. Your hundreds and your thousands at usage and in purse, Behold a safe investment, which shall bless and never curse! Oh, who would spend for house or land, if he might but from above Draw down the sweet and holy dew of happiness and love? Pour out upon the needy ones the soft and healing balm: The storm hath not arisen yet,--ye yet may keep the calm; Already mounts the darkness,--the warning wind is loud: But ye may seek your father's God, and pray away the cloud. Go throng our ancient churches, and on the holy floor Kneel humbly in your penitence among the kneeling poor; Cry out at morn and even, and amid the busy day, ``Spare, spare, O Lord, Thy people;--oh cast us not away!'' Hush down the sounds of quarrel; let party names alone; Let brother join with brother, and England claim her own. In battle with the Mammon--host join peasant, clerk. and lord: Sweet charity your banner--flag, and God for all your word.