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diff --git a/25599.txt b/25599.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0a5f219 --- /dev/null +++ b/25599.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2634 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Heart Utterances at Various Periods of a +Chequered Life., by Eliza Paul Kirkbride Gurney + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Heart Utterances at Various Periods of a Chequered Life. + +Author: Eliza Paul Kirkbride Gurney + +Release Date: May 25, 2008 [EBook #25599] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HEART UTTERANCES *** + + + + +Produced by Bethanne M. Simms, Barbara Tozier and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + +Heart Utterances + +AT + +VARIOUS PERIODS + +OF + +A CHEQUERED LIFE. + + +NOT PUBLISHED. + + + + + In this book I have scribbled some innocent rhymes, + In various moods, and at different times; + Some grave and some cheerful, some merry, some sad, + Though none may be _good_, there are none _very bad_. + + + + +Contents. + + + KINDNESS + WRITTEN AT THE DELAWARE WATER GAP + WRITTEN IN AN ALBUM + ON READING "GIBBON'S ROME" + WRITTEN IN A FRIEND'S ALBUM + WRITTEN AFTER A VISIT TO THE INSTITUTION FOR THE DEAF AND DUMB + OH! TIME, AS IT FLEETS, DOOMS A JOY TO DECAY + ON LEAVING PINE COTTAGE + THE MORN AND EVE OF LIFE + THE EVENING STAR + RECOGNITION IN HEAVEN + WRITTEN IN L. J.'S ALBUM + THE ALPINE HORN + THE GATHERING ROUND THE OAK TREE + J. H. ON THE DEATH OF HIS WIFE + THOU GREAT FIRST CAUSE + IN A SEASON OF BEREAVEMENT + ON A PACKET OF LETTERS + REPLY OF THE MESSENGER BIRD + HEAVEN AND EARTH + HUSH, HUSH! MY THOUGHTS ARE RESTING + CONSOLATION IN BEREAVEMENT + SUGGESTED BY THE CONVERSATION OF A BROTHER AND SISTER + ON THE DEATH OF MY UNCLE, JOSEPH PAUL + SPRING + OH, FOR A HOME OF REST! + LIFE'S STAGES + THE SHEPHERD OF ISRAEL + WOODBURN + J. & H. C. BACKHOUSE + THE PLAGUES OF EGYPT + THE LAST LOOK IS TAKEN + TO A FRIEND + FAREWELL + THE LAST DAY + THE REUNION + ON THE DEATH OF ELIZABETH FRY AND SIR T. F. BUXTON + EPHESIANS 4:32 + AT A TIME OF DEEP PROVING + AS AN EAGLE STIRRETH UP HER NEST + WILLIAM FORSTER + ALL ALONE + + + + +Heart Utterances. + + + + +FIRST ATTEMPT AT RHYME. + +KINDNESS. + + + Kindness soothes the bitter anguish, + Kindness wipes the falling tear, + Kindness cheers us when we languish, + Kindness makes a friend more dear. + + Kindness turns a pain to pleasure, + Kindness softens every woe, + Kindness is the greatest treasure, + That frail man enjoys below. + + Then how can I, so frail a being, + Hope thy kindness to repay, + My great weakness plainly seeing, + Seeing plainer every day. + + Oh, I never can repay thee! + That I but too plainly see; + But I trust thou wilt forgive me, + For the love I bear to thee. + +1811. E. P. K. + + + + +WRITTEN AT THE DELAWARE WATER GAP. + + + Great and omnipotent that Power must be, + That wings the whirlwind and directs the storm, + That, by a strong convulsion, severed thee, + And wrought this wondrous chasm in thy form. + + Man is a dweller, where, in some past day, + Thy rock-ribbed frame majestically rose; + The river rushes on its new-made way, + And all is life where all was once repose. + + Pleased, as I gazed upon thy lofty brow + Where Nature seems her loveliest robes to wear, + I felt that Pride at such a scene must bow, + And own its insignificancy there. + + Oh Thou, to whom directing worlds is play, + Thy condescension without bounds must be, + If man, the frail ephemera of a day, + Be graciously regarded still by Thee. + + Here, as I ponder on Thy mighty deeds, + And marvel at Thy bounteousness to me, + While wrapt in solemn awe, my bosom bleeds, + Lest recklessly I may have wounded Thee,-- + + Wounded that Being who is fain to call + The heavy-laden and the wearied home; + The dear Redeemer! He who died that all + Might to his glorious in-gathering come. + +1818. E. P. K. + + + + +WRITTEN IN AN ALBUM. + + + Judge we of coming, by the by-past, years, + And still can Hope, the siren, soothe our fears? + Cheated, deceived, our cherished day-dreams o'er, + We cling the closer, and we trust the more. + Oh, who can say there's bliss in the review + Of hours, when Hope with fairy fingers drew + A magic sketch of "rapture yet to be," + A rainbow horizon, a life of glee! + The world all bright before us--vivid scene + Of cloudless sunshine and of fadeless green; + A treacherous picture of our coming years, + Bright in prospective--welcomed but with tears. + + How false the view, a backward glance will tell! + A tale of visions wrecked, of broken spell, + Of valued hearts estranged or careless grown, + Affection's links dissevered or unknown; + Of joys, deemed fadeless, gone to swift decay, + And love's broad circle dwindled half away; + Of early graves of friends who, one by one, + Leave us at last to journey on alone. + + Turn to the home of childhood--hallowed spot, + Through life's vicissitudes still unforgot; + The sacred hearth deserted now is found, + Or unloved stranger-forms are circling round. + In the dear hall, whose sounds were all our own, + Are other voices, other accents known; + And where our early friends? A starting tear + And the rude headstone promptly answer, "Here." + + Thus will compare Hope's sketch of bliss to be + With the undreamed of, sad reality; + Yet this and more the afflicted heart may bear, + If Faith, celestial visitant, be there, + Whispering of greener shores, of purer skies, + Of flowers unfading, love that never dies, + A glimpse of joy to come in mercy given, + The eternal sunshine of approving Heaven. + +1818. E. P. K. + + + + +ON READING "GIBBON'S ROME." + + + And this man was "an infidel!" Ah, no! + The tale's incredible--it was not so. + The untutored savage through the world may plod, + Reckless of Heaven and ignorant of his God; + But that a mind that's culled improvement's flowers + From all her brightest amaranthine bowers, + A mind whose keen and comprehensive glance + Comprised at once a world--should worship chance, + Is strangely inconsistent--seems to me + The very essence of absurdity; + Who, from the exhaustless granary of Heaven, + Receives the blessings so profusely given, + Looks with a curious eye on Nature's face, + Forever beaming with a new-born grace, + And dares with impious voice aloud proclaim + He knows no Heaven but this--no God but Fame. + Lord, in refusing to acknowledge Thee, + Vain man denies his own reality; + But tho' the boon of _life_ he may receive + From God, and still affect to disbelieve, + What are his views at _death's_ resounding knell? + Just Heaven! Sure, man ne'er _died_ an infidel. + Stretched on the agonizing couch of pain, + All human aid inefficacious, vain, + Where shall his tortured spirit rest? Ah, where? + The past, all gloom! the future, all despair! + 'Tis then, O Lord, the skeptic turns to Thee, + Then the proud scoffer humbly bends the knee; + Feels in this darksome hour there's much to do-- + Earth fading fast, Heaven's portals far from view. + Oh, what a hopeless wretch this man must be! + His very soul weeps tears of agony. + Dying he owns there _is_ a God above, + A God of Justice, tho' a Prince of Love. + +1820. E. P. K. + + + + +WRITTEN IN A FRIEND'S ALBUM. + + + Trust not Hope's illusive ray, + Trust not Joy's deceitful smiles; + Oft they reckless youth betray + With their bland, seductive wiles. + + I have proved them all, alas! + Transient as the hues of eve; + Meteor-like, they quickly pass + Through the bosoms they deceive. + + Let not Love thy prospects gild; + Soon they will be clouded o'er, + And the budding heart once chilled, + It can brightly bloom no more. + + Slumber not in Pleasure's beam; + It may sparkle for a while, + But 'tis transient as a dream, + Faithless as a foeman's smile. + + There's a light that's brighter far, + Soothes the soul by anguish riven, + 'Tis Religion's guiding star + Glittering on the verge of Heaven. + + Oh! this beam divine is worth + All the charm that life can give; + 'Tis not false as things of earth, + Trust it then, 'twill ne'er deceive. + +1821. E. P. K. + + + + +WRITTEN AFTER A VISIT TO THE INSTITUTION FOR THE DEAF AND DUMB. + + + I thought those youthful hearts were bleak and bare, + That not a germ had ever flourished there, + Unless perchance the night-shade of despair, + Which blooms amid the sunless wilderness. + + But I was told that flowers of fairest kind + Graced what I deemed a desert of the mind, + That for these hapless beings man had twined + A fadeless wreath to make their sorrows less. + + And then I feared, like sunbeams of the morn + Which spoil the frost-work they awhile adorn, + That rays of light might render more forlorn + The expanding bosoms they were meant to cheer. + + I feared those glittering beams would vainly show + That the best charms of life they ne'er could know, + "The feast of reason and the soul's calm flow," + The witchery of sound, the bliss to hear. + + But when I saw those eyes mirthful and bright, + And beaming soft with intellectual light, + My groundless fears that moment winged their flight, + I felt that joy would on their path attend. + + May Heaven this favored Institution bless, + Man's "high endeavor" crown with "glad success," + And on each patron's noble brow impress + The glorious title of "The dumb man's friend." + +1822. E. P. K. + + + + +TIME. + + + Oh! Time, as it fleets, dooms a joy to decay, + From the chaplet of hope steals a blossom away, + Throws a cloud o'er the lustre of life's fairy scene, + And leaves but a thorn where the rosebud had been. + It sullies a link in affection's young chain, + That, once slightly tarnished, ne'er sparkles again, + Spoils the sheaves that the heart in its summer would bind, + To guard 'gainst a bleak, leafless autumn of mind. + + But a region there is where the buds never die, + Where the sun meets no cloud in his path through the sky, + Where the rose-wreath of joy is immortal in bloom, + And pours on the gale a celestial perfume; + Where ethereal melodies steal through the soul, + And the full tide of rapture is free from control. + Oh, we've nothing to do in a bleak world like this, + But to toil for a home in that haven of bliss. + +1822. E. P. K. + + +(Added in 11th mo., 1861.) + + "Nay, toil not," saith Jesus, "but come unto Me;" + There's rest for the weary, rest even for thee-- + I have toiled, and have suffered, and died for thy sin; + Then only believe, and the crown thou shalt win, + The crown of Eternal Life, fadeless and bright, + Prepared for all nations who walk in the light. + + E. P. G. + + + + +ON LEAVING PINE COTTAGE. + + + When our bosoms were lightest, + And day-dreams were brightest, + The gay vision melted away; + By sorrow 'twas shaded, + Too quickly it faded; + How transient its halcyon sway! + + From my heart would you sever, + (Harsh fate!) and forever, + The friends who to life gave a charm, + What oblivion effaces + Fond mem'ry retraces, + And pictures each well-beloved form. + + Some accent well known, + Some melodious tone, + Through my bosom like witchery shed, + Shall awake the sad sigh, + To the hours gone by, + And the friends, like a fairy dream, fled. + + Long remembrance shall treasure + Those moments of pleasure, + When time flew unheeded away; + Joy's light skiff was near us, + Hope ventured to steer us, + And brighten our path with her ray. + + We sailed down the stream + 'Neath her luminous beam, + Our spirits were closely entwined; + What are joys of the bowl + To this calm flow of soul, + This heavenly mingling of mind? + + Pure Friendship was there + With celestial air, + Her cestus around us she threw; + "Be united," she cried, + "Ne'er may discord divide + A union so blissful and true." + + But those hours are past, + They were too bright to last; + Joyous moments but seldom are given, + That man may be taught, + Worldly pleasures are naught,-- + True happiness dwells but in Heaven. + +1822. E. P. K. + + + + +THE MORN AND EVE OF LIFE. + + + So soft Time's plumage in life's budding spring, + We rarely note the flutter of his wing. + The untutored heart, from pain and sadness free, + Beats high with hope and joy and ecstasy; + And the fond bosoms of confiding youth + Believe their fairy world a world of truth. + The thorn is young upon the rose's stem; + They heed it not, it has no wound for them. + + While yet the heart is new to misery, + There is a gloss on everything we see; + There is a freshness, which returns no more + When fades the morn of life that soon is o'er; + A warmth of feeling, ardency of joy, + Delight almost exempt from an alloy, + A zest for pleasure, fearlessness of pain, + That we are destined ne'er to know again. + + And what succeeds this era joyous, bright? + Is it a cloudless eve or starless night? + To those who're busied in life's brilliant dawn + With gathering flowers that bloom when spring is gone, + And, ere their morning sun begins to wane, + Add many a link to fond affection's chain, + To Heaven's supreme behest have meekly bowed-- + 'Twill prove indeed an eve without a cloud. + + What though the brilliancy and sheen of day + With youthful hours have faded all away; + What though the fresh and roseate bloom of spring + A fragrance in our path no more shall fling; + Yet there's a foretaste pure of joys divine, + A quiet, holy calm in life's decline, + A moonlight of the soul in mercy given + To light the pilgrim to the gates of Heaven. + +1824. E. P. K. + + + + +THE EVENING STAR. + + + Hail, pensile gem, that thus can softly gild + The starry coronal of quiet eve! + What frost-work fabrics man shall vainly build + Ere thou art doomed thy heavenly post to leave! + + Bright star! thou seem'st to me a blest retreat, + The wearied pilgrim's paradise of rest; + I love to think long-parted friends shall meet, + Blissful reunion! in thy tranquil breast. + + I saw thee shine when life with me was young, + And fresh as fleet-winged time's infantile hour, + When Hope her treacherous chaplet 'round me flung, + And daily twined a new-created flower. + + I saw thee shine while yet the sacred smile + Of home and kindred round my path would play, + But Time, who loves our fairest joys to spoil, + Destined this hour of bloom to swift decay. + + The buds, that then were wreathed around my heart, + Now breathe their hallowed sweetness there no more; + 'Twas thine to see them one by one depart, + And yet thou shinest brightly as before. + + So, when this bosom, that 'mid all its woes + Has longed thy little port of rest to win, + In the calm grave shall find at last repose, + Thou'lt beam as fair as though I ne'er had been. + +1824. E. P. K. + + + + +RECOGNITION IN HEAVEN. + + + Oh! say, shall those ties, now so sacred and dear, + That with rainbow hues tint all our wanderings here, + Be regarded no more in that heavenly sphere + Whose portal's the grave? + + When, "washed and forgiven," our spirits ascend + To the home of the blest where all sorrowings end, + O, will not a parent, a sister, a friend, + Haste to welcome us there? + + Shall we see no loved form we have gazed on before, + To commune with of times that are faded and o'er? + Will the "dear chosen few" be remembered no more + In that haven of bliss? + + O my heart must believe, 'mid ethereal chimes + A gloom would steal over my spirit sometimes, + If the friends I have loved, in these heavenly climes, + Seemed to know me no more. + + But hope fondly whispers it shall not be so; + Each purified spirit my bosom shall know, + And all unremembered the 'plaining of woe, + We'll joy in the Lord. + +1824. E. P. K. + + + + +WRITTEN IN L. J.'S ALBUM. + + + Gay visions for thee 'neath hope's pencil have glowed, + Peace dwells in thy bosom, a guileless abode; + Thou hast seen the bright side of existence alone, + And believ'st every spirit as pure as thine own. + May'st thou never awake from these rapturous dreams, + To find that the world is not fair as it seems, + To feel that the few thou hast loved have deceived, + Have forsaken the heart that confided, believed, + And left it as leafless, as bloomless, and waste + As the rose-tree that's stript by the merciless blast. + + When the warm sky of childhood was beaming for me, + My days were all joyous, my heart was all glee; + Affection's best ties round my bosom were spun; + No cloud dimmed the lustre of life's morning sun. + If I watched o'er my favorite rose-bud's decay, + And mourned that its bright tints were fading away, + I knew not an anguish more poignant than this, + And the morrow's young brow wore a halo of bliss. + May'st thou long be a novice to feelings like mine, + When the shades of joy's noonday proclaimed their decline, + When death has doomed hearts warm as thine to decay, + Or frigid estrangement has torn them away. + + Oh, I sometimes have questioned, when lingering near + The home of the dead, of the friends who were dear, + If the brightest enchantments of earth could repair + The sad devastation that time has made there; + If the joys of the world had a balm to impart, + That would act as a charm to the woes of the heart. + Yes, there is such a balm, but it comes from _above_, + It is wafted to earth on the pinions of love; + 'Tis the spirit of piety, spotless and pure, + That teaches us calmly life's ills to endure; + When it reigns in the heart, every error's forgiven, + It resigns us to earth, and prepares us for Heaven. + +1825. E. P. K. + + + + +THE ALPINE HORN. + + "Just at the close of day the Alpine Horn is sounded from the + highest mountain top, and mountain, rock and cave echo the + solemn sound, 'Praised be the Lord.'" + + + When rainbow hues of closing day + O'er evening's portals faintly play, + The Alpine horn calls far away, + "Praised be the Lord." + + And every hill and rock around, + As though they loved the grateful sound, + Send back, 'mid solitudes profound, + "Praised be the Lord." + + O God! has man so thankless grown, + He brings no anthems to thy throne, + When voiceless things have found a tone + To praise the Lord? + + Ah no! for, see, the shepherds come, + Though hardly heard the welcome home; + From toil of day they quickly come + To worship God. + + The look that taught their hearts to bow, + And childhood's laugh and sunny brow, + All, all by them forgotten now + In praise to God. + + Kneeling the starry vault beneath, + With spirits free as air they breathe, + Oh, pure should be their votive wreath + Of praise to God. + + How glorious such a scene must be, + When prayer and praise ascend to Thee + In one glad voice of melody, + Eternal Lord! + + All space thy temple, and the air + A viewless messenger, to bear + Creation's holy vesper prayer + On wings to Heaven. + + Oh, that for me some Alpine horn, + Both closing eve and wak'ning morn, + Would sound, and bid my bosom scorn + The world's vain joys; + + Its treasured idols all resign, + That, when Life's cheating hues decline, + The one undying thought be mine, + To praise the Lord! + +1826. E. P. K. + + + + +THE GATHERING ROUND THE OAK TREE. + + [Written in commemoration of the exclusion of Friends from their + meeting-house at Abington.] + + + Why should "the little remnant mourn?" + Though closed the house of prayer, + An aged oak its shelter gave; + And surely He was there, + Who dwells in house not built with hands, + Eternal in the skies; + Incense nor costly altar craves, + Nor lamb for sacrifice; + But who the purest offering still + Finds in a willing mind, + And oft "through paths they know not of," + In safety leads the blind. + Yes, He was there! The faithful band, + "O'ershadowed by His love," + Saw in each bough that gently waved + A peace-branch from above. + Jesus was in the awful pause; + The prayer He prompted too; + And softly sighed, "Father, forgive, + They know not what they do." + + While thus they crucify afresh + The Lamb of Calvary, + O Lord! be merciful to them, + Though they are false to Thee. + And many a voiceless prayer was borne + Up to the throne of God, + That none might question Heaven's decree, + But bless the chastening rod; + That though our pathway thorny be, + We fearless might pursue + The track our fathers marked with blood, + Unmurmuring marked it too. + How freely may the little band + Accept the chalice given, + Till by the Saviour called to swell + The symphonies of Heaven; + And when their weary pilgrimage, + Their day on earth is done, + God hath a coronal for those + Who trusted in the Son. + +1826. E. P. K. + + + + +J. H. ON THE DEATH OF HIS WIFE. + + + Oh, when I found that Death had set + His awful stamp on thee, + Deserted on Life's stormy shore, + I thought that Time could have in store + Not one more shaft for me. + + Long I had watched thy lingering bloom + That brightened 'mid decay; + And then its eloquent appeal + Would ask my heart if death _could_ steal + Such loveliness away. + + And oh! could pure unsullied worth + Or peerless beauty save, + We had not stood as mourners here, + And shed the unavailing tear + O'er thy untimely grave. + + But we have seen thee lowly laid, + And I am here alone; + Each morn I shuddering wake to feel + The consciousness around me steal, + That all my hopes are flown. + + All, did I say? Ingrate indeed! + Oh, be the thought forgiven; + Has he not hopes and interests here, + Whose sacred task it is to rear + A family for Heaven? + + Rebellious heart! some tendril ties + Around thee still are thrown; + Oh, while this cherub group is mine, + Heaven's dearest gift I can resign, + And say, "Thy will be done." + +1826. + + + + +LINES, + +ON HEARING IT SAID "THAT IT WAS UNREASONABLE TO SUPPOSE MAN SHOULD BELIEVE +WHAT HE COULD NOT COMPREHEND." + + + "Thou great First Cause," Creator, King, and Lord, + The worm that breathed at Thy commanding word, + And dies whene'er Thou wilt, presumptuous man, + Has dared the mazes of Thy path to scan; + Guided by reason's powerless rays alone, + Would pierce the veil of mystery round Thee thrown. + + Tell me, proud being!--flutterer of an hour-- + (Who thus would comprehend creative power), + Why worlds were made, why man was formed at all, + Or crimeless once, permitted then to fall, + The why, the wherefore, boots not us to know, + Enough--that God ordained it to be so. + + Go thou, and cull the simplest flower that blows, + The hillside daisy or the wilding rose, + And tell me why so bright their hues appear, + Why they return with each revolving year; + Or how, when countless worlds are all in bloom, + O'er every bud is breathed its own perfume. + Yes, solve me this, and I'll believe with thee, + 'Twas meant that man should doubt all mystery. + + Presumptuous worm! enough to know is given-- + 'Tis fearful meddling with the things of Heaven; + Its sacred mysteries belong alone + To Him whose paths are awful and unknown; + Who wings the storm, or whispers "Peace, be still;" + Cradling to rest the mountain wave at will; + Who for our souls his Son a ransom gave, + And guards "his fold" from childhood to the grave. + Confess, proud man, all his known ways are just, + And what thou canst not fathom "learn to trust." + +1827. E. P. K. + + + + +IN A SEASON OF BEREAVEMENT. + + + Bright summer comes, all bloom and flowers, + To garland o'er her faded bowers; + There's balm and sunshine on her wing, + But where's the _friend_ she used to bring? + One heart is sad 'mid all the glee, + And only asks, "_Oh, where is he?_" + + He comes not now, he comes not now, + To chase the gloom from off my brow, + He comes not with his wonted smile + The weary moments to beguile. + There's joy in every look I see, + But mine is sad, for "Where is he?" + + Closed is the book we used to read; + There's none to smile, there's none to heed; + Our 'customed walk's deserted, too; + It charms not as it used to do; + The fav'rite path, the well-known tree, + All, all are whispering, "Where is he?" + + This faithful heart is now a shrine + For each dear look and tone of thine, + And every scene thou used to prize + Forever hallowed in my eyes; + But oh! how loved those friends shall be + Whose tearful eyes say, "Where is he?" + + I would not breathe to stranger's ear + A name so sacred and so clear, + And, when the reckless crowd are nigh, + My bosom checks the rising sigh; + But when no human eye can see. + It bleeding cries, "Ah, where is he?" + + Oh, how I miss thy smile of light, + "Welcome" at morn and kind "good night!" + But, when the quiet eve comes on, + I feel that thou indeed art _gone_. + That herald of delight to me + Is joyless now, for "Where is he?" + + I have not seen the crimson dye, + Which sunset gives the western sky, + Since on thy couch of death thou lay + And watched its glories fade away. + Those hues, so oft admired with thee, + Would ask too loudly, "Where is he?" + + And oh! that orb, on whose mild rays + So fondly, too, we used to gaze, + And, though far distant, there unite + At the same sacred hour of night, + Seems sadly now to whisper me, + "Thou art all alone,--where, where is he?" + + Life was to _us_ no cloudless day, + Blossom and blight still marked our way; + But sorrow is not skilled to part, + It links more closely heart to heart. + Yes! and they _ever_ linked _shall_ be-- + "Summer, oh! tell me, where is he?" + + I hear a voice upon the breeze, + It speaks of holier ties than these; + Of worlds, where farewell sounds are o'er, + And Death a victor never more. + It bids me for that clime prepare, + And sweetly whispers, "He is there." + +1828. E. P. K. + + + + +ON A PACKET OF LETTERS. + + + "To-day"--Oh! not to-day shall sound + Thy mild and gentle voice; + Nor yet "to-morrow" will it bid + My heart rejoice. + + But one, one fondly treasured thing + Is left me 'mid decay, + This record, hallowed with thy thoughts + Of yesterday. + + Chaste thoughts and holy, such as still + To purest hearts are given, + Breathing of Earth, yet wafting high + The soul to Heaven; + + Soaring beyond the bounds of Time, + Beyond the blight of Death, + To worlds where "parting is no more," + "Nor Life a breath." + + 'Tis true they whisper mournfully + Of buds too bright to bloom, + Of hopes that blossomed but to die + Around the tomb. + + Still they are sweet remembrances + Of life's unclouded day-- + Sketches of mind, which death alone + Can wrench away; + + Memorials sad of by-past hours, + Gone with the silent dead; + Pictured affections, pencilled dreams. + Forever fled! + + Forever? Are they hushed indeed + To wake again no more? + Ties dearer far than Life itself + With life all o'er? + + No! Faith can point to holier climes, + And bid the soul prepare + For deathless union that awaits + The faithful there. + +1828. E. P. K. + + + + +REPLY OF THE MESSENGER BIRD. + + Thou art come from the spirits' land, thou bird! + Thou art come from the spirits' land: + Through the dark pine grove let thy voice be heard, + And tell of the shadowy band! + + * * * * * + + But tell us, thou bird of the solemn strain, + Can those who have loved, forget? + We call--and they answer not again-- + Do they love, do they love us yet? + + F. HEMANS. + + Yes! yes, I have come from the spirits' land, + From the land that is bright and fair, + I come with a voice from the shadowy band, + To tell that they love you there! + + To say, if a wish or a fond regret + Could live in Elysian bowers, + 'Twould be for the friends they could ne'er forget, + The loved of their youthful hours; + + To whisper the dear deserted band, + Who smiled on their tarriance here, + That a faithful guard in the dreamless land + Are the friends they have loved so dear. + + They have gone to be seen of men no more; + But oft on a shadowy hill, + Or the crest of a wave where the moonbeams pour, + They are watching around you still. + + And oft on a fleecy cloud they sail, + And oft on the hurrying blast, + When slumber her light and magic veil + O'er man and his woes has cast. + + 'Tis true, in the silent night you call, + And they answer you not again-- + For the spirits of bliss are voiceless all; + Sound only was made for pain. + + That their land is bright and they weep no more, + I have warbled from hill to hill, + But my plaintive strains should have told before, + They love, oh! they love you still. + + They bid me say that unfading flowers + You'll find in the path they trod, + And a welcome true to their deathless bowers + Pronounced by the voice of God. + + + + +HEAVEN AND EARTH. + + + Turn from the grave, turn from the grave, + There's fearful mystery there; + Descend not to the shadowy tomb, + If thou wouldst shun despair. + It tells a tale of severed ties + To break the bleeding heart, + And from the "canopy of dust" + Would make it death to part. + Oh! lift the eye of faith to worlds + Where death shall never come, + And _there_ behold "the pure in heart" + Whom God has gathered home, + Beyond the changing things of time, + Beyond the reach of care. + How sweet to view the ransomed ones + In dazzling glory there! + They seem to whisper to the loved + Who smoothed their path below, + "Weep not for us, _our_ tears have all + Forever ceased to flow." + Take from the grave, take from the grave, + Those bright, but withering; flowers, + The spirit that had loved them once + Is now in fadeless bowers; + Undying is the fragrance there, + Eternal is the bloom; + But the next breeze may waft away + This perishing perfume. + One fearful stamp, "Doomed to decay," + Marks all the joys of earth; + Oh! what a resting-place for souls + Of an immortal birth! + Then linger round the grave no more, + Lift, lift the eye to Heaven, + Till hues of faith shall gild the gloom, + And every sigh's forgiven. + Then, when the golden harvest's done, + The path of duty trod, + Thou with the loved may'st garnered be, + And gathered home to God. + +1828. E. P. K. + + + + + "And the laughter of the young and gay + Was far too glad and loud." + + + Hush, hush! my thoughts are resting on a changeless world of bliss; + Oh! come not with the voice of mirth to lure them back to this. + 'Tis true, we've much of sadness in our weary sojourn here, + That fades, and leaves no deeper trace than childhood's reckless tear; + But there are woes which scathe the heart till all its bloom is o'er, + A deadly blight we feel but once, _that once for evermore_. + + Oh, then, 'tis sweet on fancy's wing to cleave that bright domain! + The loved and the redeemed are there, why lure me back again? + The cadences of gladness to your hearts may yet be dear; + They have no melody for mine, all, all is desert here. + The sunshine still is bright to you, the moonlight and the flowers; + To me they tell a harrowing tale of dear departed hours. + + I would not cull Hope's blossoms now, they seem of deadly bloom; + And can I love the sunshine, when it smiles upon the tomb? + When on one little hallowed spot its joyous beams are thrown, + That sacred turf--the all of earth--I now may call my own. + For there my joys are sepulchred, my hopes are buried there; + Yet with that holy earth are linked high thoughts that mock despair; + Unfaltering faith, that whispers of a purer world than this, + Where spirits that are parted here may "mingle into bliss;" + "Deep _trust_" that all our sinless hopes, which death forbids to bloom, + Shall ripen 'neath the cloudless sky that dawns beyond the tomb; + _Conviction_ firm that things of time were never yet designed + To quench the vast and deathless thirst of an immortal mind. + + Then hush! my thoughts are resting on a changeless world of bliss; + There is no voice of gladness now can lure them back to this. + I look to Thee, Redeemer! Oh! be every crime forgiven, + And take the weary captive to Thy paradise in Heaven; + Or teach my heart resignedly to say, "Thy will be done," + And calmly wait thy summons home, thou just and holy One! + Thou mayst have spoiled my cherished schemes, to let my spirit see + That happiness is only found, great God, in serving Thee. + +1828. E. P. K. + + + + +CONSOLATION IN BEREAVEMENT. + + + 'Tis not when we look on the dreamless dead, + And feel that the spirit forever has fled; + 'Tis not when we're called to the voiceless tomb + By the loved who were culled in their brightest bloom; + 'Tis not when the grave's last rite is o'er, + And we know they are gone to return no more; + But, oh! 'tis when Time with oblivious wing + A balm to all other hearts may bring; + When the dark, dark hours of grief are o'er, + And we join the world we can love no more,-- + That world whose grief for the absent one + Passed like a cloud from an April sun; + When, amid the mirth that salutes the ear, + _One_ tone is gone we had used to hear, + _One_ form is missed in that happy train, + That will never exult in its sports again; + We feel that death has indeed passed o'er, + And a blank is left, to be filled no more. + But though the world and its witching smile, + That cheats the heart of its woes awhile, + Would prove in its time of deepest need + But the frail support of a broken reed, + Religion's beam has the magic power + To chase the cloud from its darkest hour, + To turn the soul from its idols here, + And fix its hopes on a purer sphere; + Then land it safe in a port of rest, + The haven sure of a Saviour's breast. + +1828. E. P. K. + + + + +LINES + +SUGGESTED BY THE CONVERSATION OF A BROTHER AND SISTER IN THE CHAMBER OF A +DECEASED AND HIGHLY VALUED PARENT. + + + My father! Oh! I cannot dwell + On hours when we shall meet again; + I only feel, I only know + That all my prayers for thee were vain. + + "Come, brother, take a _last_ farewell; + Soon, soon they'll bear him far away."-- + "No, sister, no,--he is not there, + I parted with him yesterday. + + "Our father is in Heaven now, + Forever free from care and pain; + And, if a half-formed wish could bring + His sainted spirit back again, + + "The selfish wish I would not breathe; + 'Twould cloud with woe that placid brow, + Round which a seraph seems to wreathe + A crown of glory even now. + + "How deep the gloom that mantled there! + How sweetly, too, 'twas all withdrawn! + Thus, ever thus, night's darkest hour + Precedes the day's triumphant dawn. + + "Oh! while he lingered, struggling still + With pain and anguish and despair, + The sting of death was felt indeed, + And then I wearied Heaven with prayer. + + "But when the unfettered spirit fled + From earth and earthly cares away, + I joyed to think how blest would be + Its entrance on eternal day. + + "I joyed to think that never more + That tranquil breast would throb with pain; + Hope pencilled, too, the sheltering port + Where parted spirits meet again. + + "Oh! I would drain the bitter cup + To him in boundless mercy given, + A glorious Sabbath-day to win + Of never-ending rest in Heaven. + + "Come, sister, let us follow him, + Though rugged was the path he trod; + 'Twill lead us to the 'saints in light,' + 'Twill lead us to our father's God." + +1828. E. P. K. + + + + +ON THE DEATH OF MY UNCLE, JOSEPH PAUL. + + + Fare thee well, fare thee well, for thy journey is o'er, + And the place that has known thee, shall know thee no more; + The eye that has seen thee, shall seek thee in vain, + And thy kindness will soothe us, oh, never again! + Yet we cannot forget thee, for, shrined in the heart, + Is the memory of virtues that will not depart,-- + Generosity, candor, integrity, worth, + An assemblage of all that is lovely on earth. + Thou wert guardian, guide, and instructor to me, + And I lose, with thy children, a father in thee. + Thy children, alas! they are orphans indeed. + Who now shall direct them in seasons of need? + The smile that has blest them will bless them no more, + And approval and counsel forever are o'er. + But the angel of mercy recorded thy prayers, + And in gloom and in sunshine _thy_ God will be _theirs_. + +1828. E. P. K. + + + + +SPRING. + + + Oh! the world looks glad, for the spring has smiled, + And the birds are come with their "wood-notes wild," + And the waters leap with a joyous sound, + Like freedom's voice when a chain's unbound. + + And soon with its bloom will the earth be gay, + For the air is bland as the breath of May; + Sunshine and buds and all glorious things + Will give to the hours their downiest wings. + + Nature has burst from her wintry tomb, + Wreathed with the glory of brightening bloom; + Fetters of frost-work are gently unbound, + Blossoms and flowers are clustering round. + + Bosoms that know not the blighting of care, + Sunshine and gladness may smilingly wear; + But for the broken and desolate heart + Springtime, alas! has no balm to impart. + + Tones that are hushed it awakens no more; + "Friends that are gone" it can never restore; + Yet e'en to the mourner one hope it may bring, + 'Tis the type of Eternity's glorious spring. + +1829. E. P. K. + + + + +OH, FOR A HOME OF REST! + + + Oh, for a home of rest! + Time lags alone so slow, so wearily; + Couldst thou but smile on me, I should be blest. + Alas, alas! that never more may be. + Oh, for the sky-lark's wing to soar to thee! + + This earth I would forsake + For starry realms whose sky's forever fair; + _There_, tears are shed not, hearts will cease to ache, + And sorrow's plaintive voice shall never break + The heavenly stillness that is reigning there. + + Life's every charm has fled, + The world is all a wilderness to me; + "For thou art numbered with the silent dead." + Oh, how my heart o'er this dark thought has bled! + How I have longed for wings to follow thee! + + In visions of the night + With angel smile thou beckon'st me away, + Pointing to worlds where hope is free from blight; + And then a cloud comes o'er that brow of light, + Seeming to chide me for my long delay. + +1829. E. P. K. + + + + +LIFE'S STAGES. + + + To the heart of trusting childhood life is all a gilded way, + Wherein a beam of sunny bliss forever seems to play; + It roams about delightedly through pleasure's roseate bower, + And gaily makes a playmate, too, of every bird and flower; + Holds with the rushing of the winds companionship awhile, + And, on the tempest's darkest brow, discerns a brightening smile, + Converses with the babbling waves, as on their way they wend, + And sees, in everything it meets, the features of a friend. + "To-day" is full of rosy joy, "to-morrow" is not here: + When, for an uncreated hour, was childhood known to fear? + Not until hopes, warm hopes, its heart a treasure-house have made, + Like summer flowers to bloom awhile, like them, alas, to fade; + Cherished too fondly and too long, for ah! the rich parterre, + Crushed in its brightest blossoming, leaves but a desert there. + + This is life's second stage; the gloss of springtime has passed o'er, + The trusting bosom is deceived, but still it trusts the more; + Its young affections are bound up within a mother's love, + And oh! if blessings ever yet descended from above + And rested on an earthly tie to mark approval given, + A mother's love, assuredly, is sanctioned thus by Heaven. + But soon the ruthless spoiler comes, and all its trust is vain: + The eye that beamed so kindly once, will ne'er unclose again; + The voice of love that still could soothe when all its hopes were o'er, + Alas! those sweetly sacred tones are hushed forever-more; + The smile that lingered round its path when other lights had fled, + Oh! can it be that blessed smile is buried with the dead? + Then what is left the orphan heart thus mournfully bereft? + To call its crushed affections home and count the treasures left, + With trembling fear to count them o'er, and bitterly to sigh, + Remembering they are earthly too,--they, too, alas, must die. + + Perchance of its remaining joys, its fondly garnered things, + One may be dearer than the rest--to that it fondly clings; + And, resting thus confidingly, it half forgets the woe + Which changed the orphan's joyous tones to cadence sad and low. + And can the stern destroyer find naught else to call his own + That he has stamped his fearful mark upon this chosen one? + It boots not to inquire the cause, the why it must be so; + "It is his victim," this alone is pain enough to know. + What's left thee now, poor orphan heart, that entered life so gay, + And fondly dreamed 'twould all have proved a bright and cloudless way? + Where are the joys that wreathed thee round in childhood's reckless hours? + 'Twas thine to watch them droop and fall, like pale, decaying flowers. + Where is thy home of love? Ah! well, that thought may cloud thy brow-- + The dear loved home that sheltered thee is claimed by strangers now; + And does that echoing hall repeat no well-remembered tone? + The stranger's voice, the stranger's step have there familiar grown. + + And where the joyous faces now that circled round the hearth? + Gone. Are all gone? Then changed indeed, fearfully changed, is earth! + Alas! poor desolated heart, what more remains for thee? + (A sad and solitary wreck on life's tempestuous sea)-- + What but to feel, destroying Time, indeed, has roughly past + And blighted fairest dreams of bliss, oh! too, too fair to last; + What but to muse on perished joys to which sad memory clings, + While pleasure's wrecked and ruined hopes, a mournful band, she brings, + Death's trophies, which proclaim his shaft at treasured bliss he threw, + And oh! which mournfully disclose his fearful victory too. + + Yes, this is life! but life it is without that heavenly ray + Which ever throws its purest light upon the stormiest way; + Which sweetly gilds the darkest sky and comes like angel voice, + (E'en 'mid the wreck of dearest hopes), to bid the heart rejoice; + Which flings a smile on sorrow's brow, and sunshine on the tomb, + And scatters o'er the bed of death bright buds of deathless bloom. + 'Tis true the parting hour will come, "the loved" it cannot save; + But it can teach us with a smile to yield them to the grave; + To watch with chastened sober bliss the spirit's calm release, + Trusting, though life have storms for us, all with the dead is peace. + And even while the bosom aches, aches to its inmost core, + This heavenly beam can bid it joy that earthly ties are o'er. + For oh! our covenant Lord, who ne'er his sacred promise breaks, + Has sweetly said, when all the world, the changing world, forsakes, + He will be all the world to us; then freely may the heart + Resign the fondly coffered bliss that clogs the immortal part, + (In holy trust 'twill all be ours when earth has passed away,) + And calmly wait the unclouded dawn of an eternal day, + Conscious while God is near, earth's best and purest joy is given, + For 'tis His holy presence makes the perfect bliss of Heaven. + +1829. E. P. K. + + + + +SHEPHERD OF ISRAEL. + + + Shepherd of Israel! o'er Thy fold + How sweet Thy guardian care, + To them invisible indeed, + Yet present everywhere. + + Thy crook still points to "pastures green," + When rugged paths they see, + Beside "still waters" bids them rest, + And cast their care on Thee. + + The "stranger's voice" thou, Lord, canst teach + Their watchful ears to know, + And make their "peace," their heavenly peace, + Like boundless waters flow. + + When round this thorny world we stray + And find no place of rest, + Then come like "doves unto the ark," + Faint, wearied, and oppressed, + + Thy gentle hand is soon put forth + Each wanderer to receive; + Thou bindest up the broken heart, + And bidd'st the sinner live. + + Why should we fear the storms of time? + Thy word their force can stay; + _Enough, be still!_ the high behest, + Which winds and waves obey. + + "Thy will be done" can calm the soul + By fearful tempests driven, + The holiest anthem sung on earth, + The highest heard in Heaven. + +1830. E. P. K. + + + + +WOODBURN. + + + Oh, the brow that has never been shaded by care + The rosewreath of pleasure may smilingly wear, + And the heart that is wholly a stranger to gloom, + 'Mid the din of existence may fearlessly bloom; + But the one that is blighted by sadness and pain, + And blighted too rudely to blossom again, + When its hold on a reed-like support is resigned. + Nor peace, nor composure, nor solace can find, + Nor strength to submit to the chastening rod, + Save only in stillness--_alone with its God_! + + And oh! if a blissful communion with Heaven + To earth-wearied spirits has ever been given, + If the loved and the distant, the lost and the dead, + Who smiled on our pathway a moment, and fled, + Who darkened our sunshine and saddened our mirth, + To prove that the soul has no home upon earth, + Are sent in the night-time of gloom and distress, + As heralds of mercy to comfort and bless, + To place, while the tempest is fearfully loud, + The bright bow of peace on the dark thundercloud, + To whisper of purer and holier ties, + Of a land where the blossom of joy never dies-- + Such tidings to welcome, oh! where shall we flee, + If not, dearest Woodburn, to silence and thee? + + For ah! did the angel of peace over roam, + On an errand of love, from her own hallowed home, + To gladden a sin-blighted world for awhile, + Make the desert rejoice and the wilderness smile, + She has certainly paused in her holy career, + And closed up her pinions delightfully here. + Dear to me are thy shades, when no sound may be heard + Save the soul-soothing strains of thy harmonist bird, + For they seem on the soft wing of quiet to come, + Like celestial melodies luring us home, + Faint breathings from Heaven, to bid us prepare + For peals of ethereal minstrelsy there. + + But oh! when day rests on the portals of eve, + As though loath the bright scene of enchantment to leave, + While its drapery of gold, hurried carelessly on, + Fades away, tint by tint, till at last all are gone, + I feel 'tis an emblem of life's little hour, + (Thus perish the hues of hope's loveliest flower), + And I sigh for repose on that heavenly shore + Where the day is eternal, and change is no more. + +1830. E. P. K. + + + + +LINES + +SUGGESTED BY THE PRESENCE OF THE ENGLISH FRIENDS, J. AND H. C. BACKHOUSE, +IN AMERICA--1831. + + ... "They that turn many to righteousness, + shall shine as the stars forever and ever." ... + + + They have left their homes and kindred, they are in the strangers' land, + The voice of God revealed his will; His will was their command. + They crossed the pathless main, nor feared the sadly treacherous wave, + For is not He in whom they trust omnipotent to save? + + But did no dark forebodings come? Was all at peace within? + Did prompt obedience' sure reward e'en with the toil begin? + Ah no! for nature's fond appeal would in that hour be heard; + Maternity's deep spring of love within the heart was stirred. + Perhaps some little cherub form, that it was joy to see, + Would climb no more, with sunny smile, its happy parent's knee; + Perhaps some gentle household voice, that sighed "farewell" with pain, + Might never welcome their return to that loved home again; + Then came the thought of glistening eyes, which long had done with tears, + Eyes that had kept an anxious watch o'er childhood's reckless years; + While mem'ry dwelt upon that last and earnest gaze of love, + Which shows the heart withholds its seal from what the lips approve. + They feared those silvery locks, that told 'twas almost "close of day," + Would to the grave go down, and they, their children, far away! + A moment nature shrank--the thought was too, too full of pain-- + But ah! their Master's strength was made in weakness perfect then; + The voice that lulls the billowy deep soon bade the storm be still, + Bade them rejoice that they were called to do his perfect will; + To execute with fearless trust the holy high command,-- + "Go, and glad gospel tidings spread, over a distant land, + And beams of heavenly peace around your guarded path shall play, + Peace that the world can never give, nor ever take away." + But has the fearful sacrifice at last been made in vain? + And shall no trace within our hearts, no deathless trace remain? + Bright record, that with us awhile their dwelling place has been, + Preparing temples for their Lord's high service to begin. + Oh yes, I trust, a fount of light and life they have unsealed + To many a thirsting, fainting soul, a Saviour's love revealed; + Have taught "that in his service there is perfect freedom" still, + That 'tis the highest bliss of Heaven to do his sovereign will, + And if a humble suppliant may bow before Thy throne, + My Father! and a blessing ask on hearts to her unknown, + Oh! grant for them "the lines may fall in pleasant places" here, + "Beside still waters" bid them rest, and feel that Thou art near. + Thou hast Thyself declared, that great their recompense shall be, + Who have "forsaken all" to love and follow only Thee; + And they have left the "near and dear," the parent, child, and friend; + Then in Thy holy name may all these sweet affections blend! + And should the world desert them, Lord, oh, be the world to them, + The song of their rejoicing here, in Heaven the crowning gem; + Thy sacred guidance grant, I pray, o'er life's tempestuous sea, + Awhile a gentle course, and then,--a sheltering port in Thee. + +3d mo., 1831. E. P. K. + + + + +THE PLAGUES OF EGYPT; + +OR, GOD'S PROVIDENCE MAGNIFIED IN THE CARE OF HIS CHOSEN. + + + When darkness over Egypt reigned, + A darkness to be felt, + Light sweetly shone round Goshen still, + The tents where Israel dwelt. + + Awestruck, the Egyptians silent lay, + They rose not from their place; + God's finger had been o'er their land, + And left a fearful trace. + + The very idols which they served + A gloom around them threw, + The stream they worshipped turned to blood, + The sun his light withdrew. + + But Pharaoh's heart was hardened still, + He let not Israel go + Until Jehovah, King of kings, + Struck the last fearful blow. + + The first-born on the kingly throne, + The first-born in the hall,-- + God sent his awful mandate forth, + And death passed over all. + + No house remained in this proud land + Which mourned not for its dead, + And every street was filled with gloom, + And every heart with dread. + + At midnight was the message sent-- + It was an awful hour, + Proclaiming man's impotency + And God's eternal power. + + The mighty monarch, struck with awe, + Dismissed the people then; + Contending with Omnipotence + He felt indeed was vain. + + And how were Israel employed + When light around them shone? + They then prepared the paschal lamb, + And stood with sandals on; + + Staves in their hands, loins girded too, + They waited the command + To throw their loosened shackles off, + And seek the promised land. + + But first they ate the passover, + And freely sprinkled round + The blood of an unblemished lamb, + In whom no spot was found. + + And the destroying angel passed + Harmless o'er every door + Whose side-posts and whose lintels, too, + Faith's striking symbol bore. + + Now let us pause and ask our hearts + If we have aught to learn, + If very many teaching things + We cannot here discern? + + Is there not "darkness to be _felt_" + In Egypt at this hour? + And does she not refuse to bow + Before Jehovah's power? + + And oh! when God's own Israel + Would break the oppressor's chain, + Does she approach His sacred throne + And supplicate in vain? + + Ah, no! upon the captive still + Is poured a flood of light, + While he prepares for better worlds + To take his joyous flight. + + His bonds are burst, he only waits + The omnipotent command + To journey forth,--his armor's on, + His staff within his hand. + + Not settled down in carnal ease, + This world is not his home, + A pilgrim and a stranger here, + He seeks for one to come. + + Christ is his holy passover, + He has a part in Him; + For he applies his blood, in faith, + To purify from sin. + + But oh! with very bitter herbs + It must be eaten still; + Suffering is yet the lot of those + Who do their Master's will. + + And let the Christian not forget, + Israel was bid to stay + Within the shelter of the tent + Until the opening day. + + And God is now his people's tent, + In Him may we abide; + Then though the faith will oft be proved, + The patience oft be tried, + + An hour of sweet release will come, + And all the pilgrim band, + By flame and cloud alternate led, + Attain the promised land; + + And wearing there the crown of joy, + And carrying, too, the palm, + Eternally ascribe the praise + To God and to the Lamb. + +6th mo., 1836. E. P. K. + + + + + The last look is taken, the last word is said-- + Haste away o'er the waves, then, glad tidings to spread; + Thy Master has called thee, no longer delay, + His work it is glorious, haste, haste thee away. + Come, set the sails, mariner, now we're off shore, + Then weep for the loved ones thou leavest no more; + He is faithful who promised, thou heard'st Him declare + That all thou intrusts to his fatherly care + He will keep in the sheltering fold of his love, + Where nothing shall harm them and nothing shall move. + He will suffer no plague nigh thy dwelling to come, + And His angels shall guard thee wherever thou roam; + No weapon shall prosper that's formed against thee, + For the truth thou hast loved, shield and buckler shall be. + This the heritage is of the child of the Lord, + Of him who confides in his covenant word, + And freely forsakes, when his Saviour commands, + His brethren, and sisters, and children, and lands. + Though the ocean may roar, and earth shake with the swell, + His home is in Jesus, and all will be well; + Though the mountains depart, and the hills may remove, + He quietly rests 'neath the wing of His love. + He knows that the work of the righteous is peace, + That the blessed effect thereof never shall cease; + A gracious assurance of quietude here, + And bliss without end in a holier sphere. + So, Christian, God speed thee, and should the storm lower, + Cast firmly thine anchor, and trust in His power. + His voice than the billows is mightier far, + And His mercy is o'er thee a safe guiding star. + But oh! when the clouds have all vanished away, + And life smiles around thee, a bright summer's day, + When the breeze wafts thee onward, and no rocks appear, + Then, Christian, thine hour of peril is near; + The world may frown on thee, but oh! should it smile, + Come apart to the desert, and rest thee awhile. + +1837. E. P. K. + + + + +TO A FRIEND. + + + Ah! be not sad, though adverse winds may blow, + Thy patience and thy fortitude to prove; + Thy Saviour wears no frown upon his brow,-- + "'Tis but the graver countenance of love." + + Though clouds and darkness round about him roll, + In righteousness and truth He sits enthroned; + And precious in His sight the immortal soul, + For whose deep stain of guilt His love atoned. + + He makes our dearest earthly comforts flee, + Or, e'en when clustering round us, bids them pall, + That thus the "altogether lovely,"--He,-- + "Chief of ten thousand," may be all in all. + + And hast thou not some blissful moments known, + Even while bowed beneath the chast'ning rod, + When to thy humble spirit it was shown + That glorious is the "City of thy God?" + + Hast thou not seen the King in beauty there, + And has He not assured thy fainting heart, + That from His reconciled, His child and heir, + The covenant of His peace would ne'er depart? + + Has He not fully satisfied thy soul + With the pure river of His joy and love, + Subdued each murmuring thought to his control, + And stayed thy mind on changeless things above? + + When He, thou callest "Abba, Father," placed + The earnest of adoption in thine heart, + Thou wast engraven, ne'er to be effaced,[A] + Upon His holy hands, and His thou art. + + Then doubt no more, for the omniscient God, + All whose mysterious ways are just and true, + In life will comfort with his staff and rod, + Be near in death, and guide thee safely through. + + And when the race is run, the victory given, + How sweet with the redeemed to bear the palm, + Ten thousand times ten thousand saints in Heaven, + Who hymn eternal praises to the Lamb! + +1837. E. P. K. + + [A] John 10:28. + + + + +FAREWELL. + + + Fare thee well, we've no wish to detain thee, + For the loved ones are bidding thee come, + And, we know, a bright welcome awaits thee + In the smiles and the sunshine of home, + Thou art safe on the crest of the billow, + And safe in the depths of the sea; + For the God we have worshipped together + Is Almighty, and careth for _thee_. + + And when, in the home of thy fathers, + Thy fervent petition shall rise + For the loved who are circling around thee, + The joy and delight of thine eyes, + Oh, then, for the weak and the faltering, + Should a prayer, as sweet incense, ascend + To the God we have worshipped together, + Remember thy far-distant friend. + + We miss the calm light of thy spirit, + We miss thy encouraging smile; + But we bless the unslumbering Shepherd + Who sent thee to cheer us awhile. + The light, which burned brightly among us, + We rejoiced for a season to see, + For the God we have worshipped together + Gave a halo of glory to thee. + + But didst thou not point to another, + A brighter, an _unsetting_ sun? + For thou preached not thyself to us, brother, + But Jesus, the Crucified One. + May He be thy rock and thy refuge, + In Him thy "strong confidence" be; + For the God we have worshipped together + Still loveth and careth for thee. + + Oh! mayst thou abide 'neath the shadow + Of Immanuel's sheltering wing, + And continue proclaiming the goodness + Of Zion's all-glorious King, + Till the sun shall be turned into darkness, + The moon in obscurity be; + And the God we have worshipped together, + Be a "light everlasting" to thee. + +9th mo. 10th, 1840. E. P. K. + + + + +THE LAST DAY. + + + The God of glory thundereth! who hath not heard His voice, + Bidding the sinner tremble, and the pure in heart rejoice? + + Yes, yes, the sinner trembleth, for the Judge is on His throne, + Rendering to all a recompense for the deeds which they have done, + For the mercies they have slighted, and the time they have destroyed, + For the idols they have worshipped, and the talents misemployed. + + But the pure in heart rejoiceth, because for him doth blend, + In the Judge of all the universe, a Saviour and a Friend; + He looketh up confidingly, with unpresumptuous eye, + And smiling says, "My Father, on Thy mercy I rely!" + + The God of glory thundereth! How awful is His voice, + Bidding the sinner tremble, and the pure in heart rejoice? + + Yes, yes, the sinner trembleth, for his robes are still defiled, + To the God of love and purity he is not reconciled; + Yet He is seated on His throne in fearful, dread array, + Before whose face both heaven and earth shall swiftly flee away. + + But the pure in heart rejoiceth, for his robes are free from stain, + And not one dark, defiling spot shall cleave to them again; + Made white beneath the fountain which flowed from Jesus' side, + So as "no fuller on the earth could whiten them" beside. + + The God of glory thundereth! still louder is His voice, + Bidding the sinner tremble, and the pure in heart rejoice. + + Yes, yes, the sinner trembleth, for his day of grace is o'er, + The Bridegroom hath arisen, and closed is mercy's door; + That grace he long resisted, how did it plead in vain! + And now its sweet persuasive strains will ne'er be heard again. + + But the pure in heart rejoiceth, his lamp is burning bright, + And welcome is the cry to him, though heard at dead of night, + "Behold, the Bridegroom cometh!" Oh, what joy to enter in + Where the nations that are saved, their Sabbath shall begin. + + The God of glory thundereth! yet louder is His voice, + Bidding the sinner tremble, and the pure in heart rejoice. + + Well may the sinner tremble, and quake with fear and dread, + For the last trump is sounding and the sea gives up her dead. + The Books, the Books are opened! awestruck his eyes behold + That in the unfolded Book of Life his name is not enrolled. + + But the pure in heart rejoiceth, he hath heard a welcome home; + With songs of joy and gladness unto Zion he is come; + "Well done, thou faithful servant! to _thee_ it shall be given + To see thy Saviour as He is, and reign with Him in Heaven." + + But the great men and the captains and the chief men, where are they? + And the sellers of the souls of men upon this fearful day? + They are calling on the mountains and on the rocks to fall, + And hide them from the wrath of Him who died to save them all. + +1845. E. P. G. + + + + +THE REUNION OF SIR T. F. BUXTON AND ELIZABETH FRY. + + + They have met, they have met! now their pinions unfurl + In that city whose pavement is gold, + Whose every gate is of one liquid pearl, + And her beauty and glory untold; + + That city, which needeth no light from the sun, + Where the moon sheds her lustre no more, + But where, in the smile of the Crucified One, + Countless myriads bow down and adore. + + One by one are the loved ones all gathering there, + In white robes they encircle the throne; + Oh! what bliss to unite where sin cannot blight, + And where parting and death are unknown. + + They are come to Mount Zion, the city of God; + They are joined to the glorified throng; + One pathway of sorrow by all has been trod, + All sing one harmonious song. + + Omnipotent Lord, just and true are Thy ways! + Thy works great and marvellous are! + Oh! who shall not fear Thee and echo Thy praise, + And Thy glory and honor declare. + +1845. E. P. G. + + + + +ON THE DEATH OF ELIZABETH FRY AND SIR T. F. BUXTON. + + + Ye have met, ye have met, disencumbered of pain, + Of sorrow, and sickness, and care; + And the slave and the prisoner, now freed from their chain, + Have rejoicingly welcomed you there. + + The true light now shines and the darkness is past, + For that which is perfect is come, + And your pure loving spirits are gathered at last, + In their only congenial home. + + May the balm of your memory steal through the soul, + Like a gale from Arabia the blest, + Exert o'er the feelings a sacred control, + And hush every murmur to rest! + + In the world we shall seek your resemblance in vain, + Your places shall know you no more; + Yet who by a wish would recall you again? + For the days of your mourning are o'er. + + The King in His beauty your eyes now behold, + He has sweetly dispelled all your fears; + To the well-spring of waters the Lamb leads His fold, + And God wipes away all their tears. + + Great grace was upon you, and oh! unto us + May a manifold portion be given, + That through pardoning love we may mingle above. + A circle unbroken in Heaven! + +1845. E. P. G. + + + + +EPHESIANS 4:32. + + + "The accuser of the brethren!" + How fitting is the name! + Since the creation of the world + His business is the same; + + Bringing false accusations, + Sowing the seeds of strife, + Watching the halting of the saints, + And striking at the life. + + If with the aspersed one he should fail, + The asperser's sure to fall; + For, losing Christian charity, + Have we not lost our all? + + Ye know not, vain contenders, + What spirit ye are of; + Alas! ye are weak "defenders" + Of "the faith that works by love," + + Which purifies the feelings, + And makes all sweet within, + Tenders the heart before the Lord, + And keeps the spirit clean. + + Go and adorn the doctrine + Ye are feigning to approve, + And seek for strength to follow Him + Whose first, best name is Love. + + But cease from defamation; + The poet says 'tis worse + To steal his _reputation_ + Than rob him of his _purse_. + + Look home, look home, defamers, + There's business there for _you_; + Weed well your own deceitful hearts, + You'll find enough to do. + + Perhaps _that_ God, before whose glance + Each soul unveiled appears, + Sees that thy brother's work is done, + While thine is in arrears. + + Then leave, ah! leave the little mote + Which thou, and thou alone, + Mark'st in his eye, and take away + The beam that blinds thine own. + + _Thou_ hast had much, yea _much_ forgiven; + Then is it just and right, + From him, who is thy fellow worm, + To exact the utmost mite? + + "Judge not," the blessed Jesus said, + "Judgment is mine alone; + He only who has never sinned + Should dare to cast a stone. + + "But love thy neighbor as thyself, + His friend, his helper be, + And show _that_ mercy unto him + Which God has shown to thee." + +1845. E. P. G. + + + + +AT A TIME OF DEEP PROVING. + + + Poor throbbing heart! the battle wave of life + Beats strong against thee, yet thou strugglest on, + Breasting the mighty billows, though no kind, well-known voice, + When the great mountain wave threatens to o'erwhelm, + Whispers the soul-reviving words, "Be of good cheer, + The port is nearing fast!" Instead of this + Is heard the mournful moan of the discourager, + Portending peril, shipwreck, loss of all. + But ah! poor struggling heart! + An eye is over thee, a Father's eye, + Of tender love and pity. There is ONE + Whose voice is mightier than the noise + Of many waters, who sitteth on the flood + And reigneth King forever. + He sees thee breast the wave, upheld alone + By childlike trust and confidence in Him, + And through the storm is heard His gentle tone, + "Daughter, be comforted,--thy faith hath saved thee." + +12th mo., 1850. E. P. G. + + + + + + The Lord's portion is his people, Jacob is the lot of his + inheritance. He found him in a desert land, and in the waste + howling wilderness. He led him about, he instructed him, he kept + him as the apple of his eye. As an eagle stirreth up her nest, + fluttereth over her young, spreadeth abroad her wings, taketh + them, beareth them on her wings, so the Lord alone did lead him, + and there was no strange god with him.--DEUT. 32: 9-12. + + _T. E.'s Sermon._ + + + When the eagle finds her brood is fledged, + She stirreth up the nest; + Gently she fluttereth over it, + And breaketh up their rest. + + She taketh them, she beareth them, + She spreadeth abroad her wings, + Then soars aloft to a purer air + Above terrestrial things. + + Thus, when the heart with the cares of time + Is burdened and oppressed, + 'Tis only the parent hand of love + That is stirring up the nest. + + He found us in the wilderness + When no strange god was nigh, + He instructed us, He kept us + As "the apple of His eye." + + Now His wing is fluttering over us + And stirring up the nest, + For the Lord alone is leading us + To His bright and glorious rest. + + The shining host of ransomed ones + _There_ worship and adore; + Fulness of joy their portion is, + Pleasure forever more. + + Then be glad when the Father teaches us + That this is not our rest, + And bless the hand of sparing love + That stirreth up the nest. + + For those who know no chastisement + Are not the sons of God; + He chooseth His adopted ones + Beneath the chastening rod. + + Thus, when the fond heart reareth up + A little ark of rest, + How soon the fluttering wing is heard + That stirreth up the nest! + + But ah! He spreadeth it abroad, + And teacheth us to soar + To the realms of cloudless blessedness, + Where change is known no more. + +1850. E. P. G. + + + + +WILLIAM FORSTER. + + + Ah! know ye not in Israel + A prince is fallen to-day, + A just man, from the ills to come, + In mercy called away! + + The Church is clothed in mourning, + Who shall supply her loss? + A standard bearer's quit the field, + A soldier of the cross. + + On mission high and holy + He braved the watery main, + And many a faithful heart rejoiced + To welcome him again. + + Thrice had the veteran warrior + Nobly forsaken all, + And trod our western wilderness + Obedient to His call, + + Whose voice he knew from childhood, + And followed where it led, + For perfect love reigned over him, + And banished fear and dread. + + Meekly he journeyed onward, + Unmoved by praise or blame; + The mark was always kept in view, + And steady was his aim. + + Unfaltering trust in Jesus + Had ever nerved his arm; + He knew His shield of love was near, + Protecting him from harm. + + Like Paul, he "went from house to house," + And boldly preached the word, + And many souls, accepting it, + Were gathered to the Lord; + + While from his heart and from his lips, + As onward he would pass, + Fell gentle benedictions, + As showers upon the grass. + + Nor from the galling chains of sin + Alone he sought to free; + However named, the bondsman claimed + His whole-souled sympathy. + + Bending beneath a weight of care, + A pilgrimage of years, + Before the rulers of the land + Behold him plead with tears! + + For poor down-trodden Africa + He lifts his latest breath, + And, with her name upon his lips, + Sinks in the arms of death. + + Thoughts of the distant and the loved + Came thronging to his heart; + He felt 'twere sweet to be with them, + Yet sweeter to depart. + + "Better to go and be with Christ," + Were the blest words he said; + Then, in the midst of bonds and chains, + The enfranchised spirit fled; + + And in a far-off stranger land, + Near Holston's billowy wave, + A voice is calling silently + From that lone martyr's grave. + + Oppressor, list its meaning! + It is to _thee_ it calls; + Ah! heed the solemn warning voice + Before the judgment falls. + + It tells thee that a martyr's prayers + Are heard in highest Heaven, + That soon the shackles of the slave + In mercy shall be riven. + + God will avenge his own elect + Who are groaning to be free; + His promises are sure: "He will + Avenge them speedily." + + But where will be the oppressor + In that soul-searching day, + When perfect truth and equity + Have undivided sway? + + Quailing before the majesty + Of the Omniscient One, + Dealers in slaves and souls of men + Will feel their work is done; + + And, bowed beneath that word of God + Which pierces like a sword, + Call on the rocks to hide them + From the presence of the Lord. + + But Mercy's voice is whispering, + Immanuel died to save, + And he designs rich fruit shall spring + From that lone martyr's grave. + +1854. E. P. G. + + + + +ALL ALONE. + + + Alas! they have left me all alone + By the receding tide; + But oh! the countless multitudes + Upon the other side! + + The loved, the lost, the cherished ones, + Who dwelt with us awhile, + To scatter sunbeams on our path, + And make the desert smile. + + The other side! how fair it is! + Its loveliness untold, + Its "every several gate a pearl," + Its streets are paved with gold. + + Its sun shall never more go down, + For there is no night there! + And oh! what heavenly melodies + Are floating through the air! + + How sweet to join the ransomed ones + On the other side the flood, + And sing a song of praise to Him + Who washed us in His blood. + + Ten thousand times ten thousand + Are hymning the new song! + O Father, join Thy weary child + To that triumphant throng! + + But oh! I would be patient, + "My times are in Thy hand," + "And glory, glory dwelleth + In Immanuel's land." + +1875. E. P. G. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Heart Utterances at Various Periods of +a Chequered Life., by Eliza Paul Kirkbride Gurney + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HEART UTTERANCES *** + +***** This file should be named 25599.txt or 25599.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/5/5/9/25599/ + +Produced by Bethanne M. Simms, Barbara Tozier and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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