Father, thy hand 



Hath reared these venerable columns, thou 

 Didst weave this verdant roof. Thou didst look down 

 Upon the naked earth, and, forthwith, rose 

 All these fair ranks of trees. They, in thy sun, 

 Budded, and shook their green leaves in thy breeze 

 And shot toward heaven. 



Ah, why 



Should we, in the world's riper years, neglect 

 God's ancient sanctuaries, and adore 

 Only among the crowd, and under roofs 

 That our frail hands have raised ? 



Bryant : Forest Hymn. 



605031 



Klllffi'il itcronHlli; to Art nt 



th- J'iirliiitiifiit of Canada, in 

 tin- yiMr one thousand nine 

 hundred ;ind on- , by WILLIAM 

 HAWTHORNE MULDREW.at the 

 Department of Agriculture. 



