Worcester morning daily spy., 1898-01-30
IN ugMoRIAM: HENRY GEORGE.

The graveyard of oblivion stands
Hard by ambitions ill-sought goals
There lie forgotten. soul on soW,
The ignobly great of all the lands
The idly rich, the knavish high
None e'er escape Gods perfect count;
Tho to men eyes these seemed to mount
Low in His dust at last they lie.
There demagogue and tyrant blend
Who cheated man could not cheat God
The lane so long In triumph trod
Found sudden turning and swift end.
Ali aforementioned let these rest,
And shed no tear that they are gone;
TITS not thro' such the race moves on,
Or by their works is hourly blest.
To other souls Fame's temple opes,
Whom place nor riches led astray,
Whose night was spotless as their day,
And greater than their deeds their hopes.
The scrolls within that holy shrine
Bear record Of the faithful few,
Who. sent of God, to truth stood true,
And wrought on earth the love divine;
Who, living not to self alone,
Shared all their fellows grieVous load,
And, dying for them, dwelt with God
Till man could claim them as has own.
And when that splendid hero moved,
Whose martyrdom we honor here,
Up to that higher, a1npler sphere,
Where souls by loftiest deeds are proved,
The angel of the impartial pen,
That knew the Galilean's fame,
Wrote under Henry Georges name
The self-same words-He died for men.
And he, who like the Master, went
Gladly the narrow way of death.
Had lived in,aove and hope and taltn,
The best he might, as Jesus meant.
A faith invincible had he
That since mans heart intended well,
His seeming zero never fell
Quite out of Gods infinity.
Faith that thro' coming ages saw
Each human weakness grow to Strength
And, evil waning, rule at length,
All unenforced, the peoples law
Hope had he that the cause of right
Some glorious triumph soon should gain;
That he might hear the victor-strain
And glimpse the flush of morning light.
Hope that his life one step might be
In mans hard climb to aasting good,
To warless years of brotherhood,
With land and life and labor free.
Love unalloyed to all he bore.
pe eH5 Ms lie hf ae6 Of ana a tbe %esk
They needed and deserved it more
Than those whose robes Immaculate,
High-lfted from life's miry road,
No human fieck or blemish showed,
No sign of conquered lust or hate.
Such was the man we knew and loved;
But he was morei He scorned to sit,
Securely dumb, tin times were fit.
And he might speak and be approved.
He never sought the bosses grace;
Body and soul he owned himself;
He never eyTnOf hPrR1 truth for self
Or coddled wrong for power and place.
He had the old-time prophet-fire,
And dared to speak for right alone;
Denounced the victory fraud had won,
Nor silent heard the truth made liar.
To conscience first life-pledged ne stood,
Nor ever let the tempter win,
Who whispered mid each battles dim
"a little wrong may work great good;
From out two evils choose the less,
And serve" Thevery thought he Spu1ned
And from the recreant many turh'd
To cast his vote for righteousness.
As greatly. Treading dutys path,
Even to death, we know he hath
The martyrs immortality.
I leave with you the poets thought.
Sung DER the worlds first hero slain3
He is not deadl He lives again
In us who hold the truths he taught.
Since arduous paths must yet be trod
And conscience over ease prevail;
When school and church and homeall fail,
For men like Henry George, thank Godi
The above poem was written by DR.. Alex.
F. Chamberlain Of Clark University, and
read at the memorial meeting held in the
South Unitarian Church, December 18th,
last.