indifferent to her welfare. Fifty years have passed since this Association, having in view the union of the sons of New England, to perpetuate the recollections of home, and to extend such kindly charities to its exiled children as any among them might need, had its humble beginnings. It has grown with the growth of the noble city which within this same half century has borrowed so much industry, strength and intelligence, and repaid it with such large returns. New York is ever welcome to the expansive enterprise and youthful vigor of New England's fairest product; the studentcrop of her colleges, the thinking and working harvest of her schools and farms; happy if, during the coming half century, she can keep a good share of her spare human capital at interest in the great commercial centre to which you, and those who have gone before you, have owed so much during almost two entire generations. So shall these annual meetings, which send a glow through the hearts of her distant children, and call their names and images fresh and warm into the memories of those whom they have left behind them, be cherished and renewed until they count their returns in centuries as now in years.

Why should we part without naming the password of our New England Eleusinia-the pivot of our local patriotism-the centre where our recollections of the past must ever rally-the eternal "Monument to the forefathers"-the rock hallowed by the feet of the Pilgrims? God grant that it may prove always a true symbol of the character of the men of New England! As every flake that has been splintered from it as a memento carries its elements and character, unchanged wherever it is borne, so let the sons of her soil be true to their origin wherever they may wander; as the rock is not a loose fragment or a rounded boulder, but a

part of the solid core of earth itself, to which it will hold until the planet is rent asunder; running under the soil that hides it, under the mountains that are piled upon it, under the rivers that flow over it, under the craters that have spouted fire above it, and so is one with the heart of the great sphere forever; thus let New England forever hold with heart, and soul, and strength, to the sacred confederacy which looks upon the continent as its destined heritage.

THE PILGRIMS OF PLYMOUTH

O'er the rough billows of the Western sea, Careers the wind, forever fresh and free; Fresh as when first "the spirit of the Lord Moved the waters," and the Almighty word The firm foundations of their barriers laid, Saying, "Your proudest waves shall here be stayed," And free as, at the moment of its birth, When it breathed softly on the virgin earth, And its Creator gave it leave to go Where'er it chose, and, where it listed, blow, Spreading its living wings, at will, abroad, By king's decree, or bishop's ban unawed, Chained by no Stuart, locked up by no Laud.

With souls, taught freedom by the winds, that swept Landward, and rocked their cradles as they slept, Souls, that no more can brook the bigot's chain, Than can the surges of the mighty main; Souls, they are not afraid to call their own, That brave, at once, the mitre and the throne, But bow, while gathered on the ocean's brim, To God, in worship, and to none but Him. Behold the Pilgrim band! Their native isle, Ruled by a bigot, casts them out as vile; The State forbids them, by its stern decrees, To worship God when, where, and as they please;

While they, to conscience true, in virtue strong,
Stiff in the right, as others in the wrong,
Resolve, though earthly thrones and temples fall,
That they will worship thus, or not at all.
And though, not now, the Puritan expires
On Tyburn's gallows, or in Smithfield's fires;
Yet fines, pains, penalties there still remain-
The non-conformist's prison and his chain.
Fleeing, with horse and hound upon his track,
His very garments stripped from off his back,
Scoffed by fanatics, and held up to scorn,
By king, by courtier and the nobly born,
He bids adieu, to see their face no more,
And lay his bones upon a foreign shore;
And on the Mayflower's deck the Pilgrims stand,
One faith, one spirit binding all the band,
That soon shall quit, for aye, their native land.

Hark! the same voices, that have swelled the song
Of praise to God, amid the assembled throng,
In solemn temples, or in humble domes,

Around the hearth-stones of their several homes,
Hymning, are heard upon the air to float-
Man's organ tone, and woman's silvery note,
Blending in one; and, as it sinks and swells,
The music mingles, like "those evening bells,"
When in the lines of Erin's bard they swing,
And here we have the parting hymn they sing.

HYMN

Before us, Lord, old Ocean spreads
His blue and boundless plain,
But, wheresoe'er Thy spirit leads,
We follow, o'er the main.

From persecution's bolts and bars,
Sustained by Thee, we turn,
And, guided by the holy stars,
That nightly o'er us burn,

We go, through faith in Him who trod
The Galilean sea,

In a drear wilderness, O God,

In peace to worship Thee.

For us, no proud cathedral there
Its doors shall open throw,
Yet can we lift our souls in prayer,
While kneeling on the snow.

We'd rather meet stern Winter's frown,
Wild beast and savage man,
Than take the mercy of the crown,
Or bear the church's ban.

Rather than ask the grace of kings,
Or bow to their decrees,

We'll trust the most unstable things-
The billow and the breeze.

For, on the billow, in the breeze,
The Almighty Spirit rides;
And aye controls by His decrees,
The tempests and the tides.

-

His hosts, the winds, the lightning's glare,—
Encamp around the just;

With us they move, their guardian care
Is our defence and trust.

Our sail unfurling to the wings

Of all the winds that blow,

We leave the land of priests and kings,
With thee, O God, to go.