The world wants women, brave, reliant, true,
Such as will help the common good along,—
Workers, to keep life's highest aims in view,
Uphold the Right and strive to crush the Wrong.
Women to lift their erring sisters up,
When, by the wayside, they may chance to fall;
Women with outstretched hands to snatch the cup
From manhood's lips, and weaken thus his thrall.
The world wants mothers, earnest hearts that feel
True sympathy for childhood's hopes and fears;
Lives that their wealth of tenderness reveal
Through all the changes of the circling years.
Whether, with steadfast feet, the children climb
Life's rugged paths, or falter on the track,
They need the magnet, wondrous and sublime,
Of mother-love to hold or draw them back.
The world wants daughters; when the tottering feet,
7'he palsied limbs, declare strength, vigor flown,
When aged eyes are dimming, it is sweet
To know the pilgrims journey not alone,—
That willing hands are near to gently guide;
That loving hearts will cheer them to the vale;
That tender voices, as they near the tide,
Will whisper of the Love that cannot fail.
The world wants sisters, gentle, faithful, pure,
Stronger in purpose than the hosts of sin ;
Sisters to warn, encourage, and allure
Those who might else be led to 'enter in.'
Oh, turn ye, mothers, sisters, daughters, turn
From Fashion's giddy vortex ere too late,
Strive the true aim of Womanhood to learn,
And cease to charge your blighted hopes to Fate.