ONE OF THE CROWD.

Northland Age, Volume 2, Issue 43, 5 June 1906, Page 2

ONE OF THE CROWD.

After Life’s fitful fever he sleeps well, Who never gained its best— Who fought for standing room until he fell And entered into rest. Born ’mid disease and sin, ill-housed, ill-fed, Chained to some dull employ, A little more or less of daily bread The measure of his joy,. Steeped in a false content, too dense to rise— For ignorance hath no wings— There never dawned on his beclouded A glimpse of better things. Sunken, forgotten, dwarfed in will and brain. Bankrupt in hope and heart. Patient he bore through years of Tlis ‘mute, inglorious” part l

Now he’s at peace, yet harshly on our ear 3 Strikes the fast falling sod. And in our minds are grievous doubts and fears— Was this the Will of God ?

This travesty of Living hardly played ’Mid cold neglect and scorn — Was this the cause for which the man To this end was he born ?

Ye who have known life beautiful and good, Go weep in shame profound, st even where he lies our brother's blood Cry on us from the ground I

But for himself whose light burnt low and dim, Some fair thing yet shall be— His Soul is v in' the Mighty Hands of Who made the Blind to see ! —Christian Burke in the -‘Com-