'A soul on highest mission bent,
A potent voice in Parliament,—
A figure steadfast in the storm.''
. —Tennyson.

A hundred years have winged their flight,
And left their furrows on Time's brow,
Since Rochdale's greatest son first saw the light,—
He whom we honour now.

Sink differences of sect and creed,
And Party rancour let us shun ;
At such a time, the one thing that we need
Is perfect unison.

This feeling should predominate ;—
To pay our homage reverently,
And, with one will and purpose, celebrate
John Bright's centenary.

For 'tis our privilege to boast
That Rochdale was his native town ;
We shared in all his early struggles most,—
We share in his renown.

The people's wrongs he made his own,
Nor ever feared to take their part.
He won his way by deeds, not words alone,
Into the nation's heart.

And all the nation lauds to-day
The statesman, long since dead and gone;
Adding its tribute unto those we pay
To our illustrious son.

Time cannot dim his memory :
Secure he stands on Fame's steep height,
' Great souls are portions of Eternity '—
And great indeed was Bright!