VOL L. NO. 2 136. 
NEW YORK, JANUARY 3, i89i. 
PRICE, FIVE CENTS, 
$ 3.00 PER YEAR 
THE HOME THAT LOVE BUILT. 
This Is the home that love built, 
Ccurage and hope are here, 
And dreaded troubles blow off like bubbles, 
There's no such thing as fear; 
For the world seems bright, and the hearts are light, 
And the future opens clear ; 
And with love to guide, we may take with pride 
The work of the coming year. 
This Is the home that love built, 
The farmer loves his soli, 
The harvest’s splendor, with blessing tender, 
Rewards his patient toil, 
As the season’s go. he may learn to know, 
That the good is never lost, 
With a faith sublime that in God's good time, 
Will the gain outweigh the cost. 
This is the home that love built 
What was the building plan ? 
Banishing sorrow—to day, to-morrow— 
Tell us that, ye who can. 
Is this love so strong that it sirangles wrong 
At touch of its mighty hands ? 
Does it hold the hearts, that would drift apart, 
With its welded iron bands ? 
This is the home that love built, 
Love is so frail and weak, 
Only the trusting that breaks doubt’s crusting, 
Only the words we speak. 
'Tis the perfect trust through the storms that must 
Spring up in the angry sky, 
That your friends are true to the last to you, 
That your heart to them may fly. 
This Is the home that love built. 
Little things day by day, 
Helping a mother, cheering a brother 
Made the work seem like play. 
And we never knew as the structure grew, 
That the love that built the walls 
Was the strongest thing that the world can bring, 
When the voice of trouble calls. 
This is the home that love buili, 
Happy and strong and dear, 
No prospect dreary, no heart aweary, 
Blurring the glad new year. 
For love takes each life up above the strife, 
That the unloved people find, 
And we look away through the hazy gray. 
To the perfect peace of mind. 
THE HOME THAT HATE BUILT. 
This is the home that hate built. 
Misery, doubt and fear, 
Harsh words of madness, hot tears of sadness, 
Crucified hopes are here. 
All the world seems dark, and there’s not a spark, 
Of hope in the coming year, 
And the fierce complaint, or the sobbing faint. 
Are the only sounds we hear. 
This is the home that hate built, 
The ” farming does not pay 
Toil every minute, with no heart In it, 
No chance for rest or play. 
And the years drag past like a shadow cast, 
On the weary heart and brain. 
Days are filled with care and the only prayer, 
Is that night may come again. 
This is the home that hate built, 
Little things day by day, 
Snarling and snapping,scolding anl slapping, 
Hot words that sting and stay. 
Ah ! the act unjust anl the lack of trust. 
And the meanness and deceit. 
They are little things, but they spread their wings. 
And they grow to hate complete. 
This is the home that hate built, 
Honor can only mourn. 
The cold neglecting! The lost respecting ! 
Sweet love weeps all forlorn. 
Is there no hope left for the heart bereft ? 
Must the long years come and go, 
Bringing naught but spite till the head grows white, 
And the steps grow weak and slow ? 
Tear down the home that hate built, 
Level it to the ground. 
Its dark wall batter; the ruins scatter 
Till no trace can be found. 
Let the sweet love light fill your home to-night, 
Let the new year bring you peace. 
Throw your fears away, give your love full play, 
And your blessings will not cease. 
Tear down the home that hate built, 
Love is the only thing. 
Why stay here hating while love is waiting 
The breath of life to bring ? 
You may pile up gold, lavish wealth untold, 
But unless love builds your home, 
With a heart of pain, you will grope in vain. 
Through the changing years to come. 
