240 THE REV. ISAAC GREGORY SMITH
��CLOSE YOUR RANKS
Yes ! Draw them close and closer still, The silken threads, that bind in one
The prince, the peasant, rich and poor.
Hark ! Hark ! The Armageddon is begun.
O Britons all, let Duty be
The watchword and the panoply.
The last to draw the sword, but not The first to sheathe it ; slow we rise
To arms. 'Tis Duty's stern behest, A peal of thunder from the skies.
Which bids us to defend the Right
Against the tyranny of Might.
Did we forget in the days gone by, "Not each for each but all for all,"
The sacred bond of Brotherhood, By which great empires rise or fall ?
Nay ! But that evil dream is past.
That strange aloofness healed at last.
Dear Isle, dear tiny speck in space. Responsive to thy drums of war,
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