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diff --git a/old/pmhrh10.txt b/old/pmhrh10.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 2506506..0000000 --- a/old/pmhrh10.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8760 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Poems of the Heart and Home -by Mrs. J.C. Yule (Pamela S. Vining) - -Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the -copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing -this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. - -This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project -Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the -header without written permission. - -Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the -eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is -important information about your specific rights and restrictions in -how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a -donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. - - -**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** - -**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** - -*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** - - -Title: Poems of the Heart and Home - -Author: Mrs. J.C. Yule (Pamela S. Vining) - -Release Date: October, 2004 [EBook #6621] -[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] -[This file was first posted on January 2, 2003] - -Edition: 10 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS OF THE HEART AND HOME *** - - - - -Produced by Beth L. Constantine, Juliet Sutherland, Charles Franks -and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. - -This file was produced from images generously made available by the -Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions. - - - - - -POEMS OF THE -HEART AND HOME. - - - - -BY - -MRS. J. C. YULE -(PAMELA S. VINING.) - - - - -INTRODUCTION. - - -In presenting this little book to her readers, the author is giving -back to them in a collected form much that has previously been given -them--anonymously, or under the _nom-de-plume_, first, of -"Emillia," then of "Xenette," or, finally, under her true name either -as Miss Vining or Mrs. Yule--and also, much that they have never -before seen. - -Some of these poems have been widely circulated, not only in Canada, -but in the United States and Great Britain; and some appear for the -first time in the pages of this book. They are offered solely upon -their merits; and upon those alone they must stand or fall. Whatever -there is in them calculated to stir the heart of our common Humanity, ---to voice forth its joys or its sorrows,--to truly interpret its -emotions,--or to give utterance to its aspirations and its hopes, will -live; that which does not thus speak for Humanity, has no right to -live; and the sooner it finds a merited oblivion the better for its -author and the world. - -These poems are essentially Canadian. They have nearly all been -written on Canadian soil;-their themes and incidents--those that are -not purely imaginary or suggested by current events in other -countries--are almost wholly Canadian; and they are mainly the -outgrowth of many and varied experiences in Canadian life. - -To the author, there is hardly one that has not its little, local -history, and that does not awaken reminiscences of some quiet Canadian -home,--some rustic Canadian school-house,--some dreamy hour in the -beautiful Canadian forests,--some morning or evening walk amidst -Canadian scenery,--or some pleasant sail over Canadian waters. - -They have been written under widely different circumstances; and, in -great part, in brief intervals snatched from the arduous duties of -teaching, or the more arduous ones of domestic life. - -Of the personal experiences traceable through many of them, it is not -necessary to speak. We read in God's word that "_He fashioneth their -hearts alike_;" therefore there is little to be found in any human -experience, that has not its counterpart, in some sort, in every -other, and he alone is the true Poet who can so interpret his own, -that they will be recognized as, in some sense, the real, or possible -experiences of all. - -Trusting that these unpretending lyrics may be able thus to touch a -responsive chord in many hearts, and with a sincere desire to offer a -worthy contribution to the literature of our new and prosperous -country, they are respectfully submitted to the public by the AUTHOR - -INGERSOLL, ONT., -Aug., 1881. - - - - -CONTENTS - - -Yes the weary Earth shall brighten - -To a Day Lily - -Living and Dying - -Up the Nepigon - -Look Up - -Frost Flowers - -The Beech nut Gatherer - -Memory Bells - -I will not Despair - -God's Witnesses - -The Assembly of the Dead - -Be Still - -Littlewit and Loftus - -To a Motherless Babe - -The Caged Bird's Song - -Crossing the Red Sea - -The Wayside Elm - -Drowned - -My Brother James and I - -Idle - -The World's Day - -Brethren, Go! - -Our Nation's Birthday - -Our Field is the World - -Sault Ste Marie - -Brother, Rest - -Loved and Lost, or the Sky Lark and the Violet - -The Gracious Provider - -Rest in Heaven - -Good Night - -The Old Church Choir - -No other Name - -Heart Pictures - -Fellowship with Christ - -An Allegory - -The Cry of the Karens - -Alone - -Mary - -'I am doing no good' - -Hail, Risen Lord - -Lines on the Death of a Young Mother - -Patience - -A Parting Hymn - -The Dance of the Winds - -Strike the Chords Softly - -At Home - -Sabbath Memories - -The Eye that Never Sleeps - -By and By - -The One Refuge - -Judson's Grave - -"Shall be Free" - -After Fifty Years - -The Earth voice and its Answer - -Beyond the Shadows - -Autumn and Winter - -Till To-morrow - -Our Country, or, A Century of Progress - -Jesus, the Soul's Rest - -The Beautiful Artist - -"Let us Pray" - -Rich and Poor - -Palmer - -Balmy Morning - -Song - -The Ploughman - -'He hath done all things we!' - -Somewhere - -The Tide - -Eloise - -Abraham Lincoln - -God's Blessings - -The Silent Messenger - -Under the Snow - -Longings - -Point of Bliss - -Away to the Hills - -Flowers by a Grave - -Three for Three - -Now - -Sunset - -Sweet Evening Bells - -Unknown - -Onward - -Looking Back - -Minniebel - -Weary - -The Body to the Soul - -Not Yet - -Marguerite - -Come unto Me - -"I will not let thee go" - -Greeting Hymn - -One by One - -Love - -Evening Hymn - -Death - -I shall be satisfied - -At the Grave of a Young Mother - -Go, Dream no More - -Come Home - -Be in Earnest - -Chlodine - -The Bird and the Storm cloud - -No Solitude - -The Stray Lamb - -Stay, Mother, Stay - -Time for Bed - -From the Old to the New - -The Voice of Spring - -Honour to Labor - -The Miser - -Broken - -To our Parents - -Under the Rod - -The White Stone Canoe - -Gone Before - -Johanna - -Stanzas - -Canada - -I laid me down and slept - -Bright Thoughts for a Dark Day - -The Drunkard's Child - -The Names of Jesus - - - - -POEMS OF THE HEART AND HOME. - - - - -YES, THE WEARY EARTH SHALL BRIGHTEN. - - -Yes, the weary earth shall brighten-- - Brighten in the perfect day, -And the fields that now but whiten, - Golden glow beneath the ray! -Slowly swelling in her bosom, - Long the precious seed has lain,-- -Soon shall come the perfect blossom, - Soon, the rich, abundant grain! - -Long has been the night of weeping, - But the morning dawns at length, -And, the misty heights o'ersweeping, - Lo, the sun comes forth in strength! -Down the slopes of ancient mountains, - Over plain, and vale, and stream, -Flood, and field, and sparkling fountains, - Speeds the warm rejoicing beam! - -Think not God can fail His promise! - Think not Christ can be denied! -He shall see His spirit's travail-- - He shall yet be satisfied! -Soon the "Harvest home" of angels - Shall resound from shore to shore, -And amid Earth's glad evangels, - Christ shall reign for evermore! - - - - -TO A DAY LILY - - - What! only to stay - For a single day? -Thou beautiful, bright hued on - Just to open thine eyes - To the blue of the skies -And the light of the glorious sun, - Then, to fade away - In the same rich ray, -And die ere the day is done? - - Bright thing of a day - Thou hast caught a ray -From Morn's jewelled curtain fold - On thy burning cheek, - And the ruby streak -His dyed it with charms untold-- - And the gorgeous vest - On thy queenly breast, -Is dashed with her choicest gold. - - A statelier queen - Has never been seen, -A lovelier never will be!-- - Nay, Solomon, dressed - In his kingliest best, -Was never a match for thee, - O beautiful flower, - O joy of an hour-- -_And only an hour_--for me! - - An hour, did I say? - Nay, loveliest, nay, -Not thus shall I part with thee, - But with subtle skill - I shall keep thee still, -Fadeless and fresh with me:-- - Through toil and duty, - "A thing of beauty -Forever" my own to be' - - As with drooping head - Amid thorns I tread, -I shall see thee unfold anew, - In the desert's dust, - Where journey I must, -Why beautiful form shall view, - And visions of Home - O'er my spirit will come, -As thro' tear-drops I gaze on you' - - - - -LIVING AND DYING. - - -Living for Christ, I die;--how strange, that I, -Thus dying, live,--and yet, thus living, die! -Living for Christ, I die;-yet wondrous thought, -In that same death a deathless life is wrought;-- -Living, I die to Earth, to self, to sin;-- -Oh, blessed death, in which such life I win! - -Dying for Christ, I live!--death cannot be -A terror, then, to one from death set free' -Living for Christ, rich blessings I attain, -Yet, dying for Him, mine is greater gain -Life for my Lord, is death to sin and strife, -Yet death for Him is everlas'ing life! - -Dying for Christ, I live!--and yet, not I, -But He lives in me, who did for me die. -I die to live,--He lives to die no more, -Who, in His death my own death-sentence bore -"To live is Christ," if Christ within me reign, -To die more blessed, since "to die is gain!" - - - - -UP THE NEPIGON. - - -How beautiful, how beautiful, - Beneath the morning sky, -In bridal veil of snowy mist, - These dreamy headlands lie! -How beautiful, in soft repose, - Upon the water's breast, -Steeped in the sunlight's golden calm, - These fairy islets rest! - -A Sabbath hush enfolds the hills, - And broods upon the deep -Whose music every hollow fills, - And climbs each rocky steep, -Now low and soft like love's own sigh, - Now faint and far away, -Now plaining to the answering pines, - With melancholy lay. - -Like white-winged birds, through azure depths, - Above the restless tide, -With snowy plume and golden crest, - The fleecy cloudlets glide; -Their dancing shadows fleck the deep, - Or flit above the green -Of emerald islands fast asleep - 'Neath tranquil skies serene. - -I watch the sunshine and the shade, - The sparkle and the gleam, -Till past and present seem to fade, - And life becomes a dream-- -A fairy, fancy-tinted dream, - A sun-bright; summer rest, -In which I glide through shade and gleam - Past islands of the blest - -How beautiful! "How beautiful!" - The quiet hills reply, -And each responsive cliff gives back - Its answer to the sky;-- -"How beautiful!" the waves repeat, - And every cloudlet smiles, -And writes its answer on the green - Of countless summer isles. - -'Tis past--this first, last, only look!-- - And now, away, away, -To bear alone in Memory's book - The sunshine of to-day; -Yet oft, 'neath other skies than these, - With other scenes in view, -O isles of beauty, sunny seas, - I shall remember you! - - - - -LOOK UP - - -Christian, lookup? thy feet may slide; - This is a slippery way! -Yet One is walking by thy side - Whose arm should be thy stay, -Thou canst not see that blessed form, - Nor view that loving smile -With eager eyes thus earthward bent-- - Christian, look up a while! - -Christian, look up!--what seest thou here - To court thy anxious eyes? -Earth is beneath thee, lone and drear, - Above, thy native skies! -Beneath, the wreck of faded bloom, - The shadow, and the clod, -The broken reed, the open tomb,-- - Above thee, is THY GOD! - -Look up! thy head too long has been - Bowed darkly toward the earth, -Thou son of a most Royal Sire, - Creature of kingly birth! -What! dragging like a very slave - Earth's heavy galling chain,-- -And struggling onward to the grave - In weariness and pain? - -What wouldst thou with this world?--thy home, - Thy country is not here, -'Mid faded flowers, and perished bloom, - And shadows dense and drear!-- -Thy home is where the tree of Life - Waves high its fruitage blest, -'Mid bowers with fadeless beauties rife,-- - Look up, and claim thy rest! - - - - -FROST-FLOWERS. - - - Over my window in pencillings white, -Stealthily traced in the silence of night-- -Traced with a pencil as viewless as air, -By an artist unseen, when the star-beams were fair, -Came wonderful pictures, so life-like and true -That I'm filled with amaze as the marvel I view. - - Like, and yet unlike the things I have seen,-- -Feathery ferns in the forest-depths green, -Delicate mosses that hide from the light, -Snow-drops, and lilies, and hyacinths white, -Fringes, and feathers, and half-opened flowers, -Closely-twined branches of dim, cedar bowers-- -Strange, that one hand should so deftly combine -Such numberless charms in so quaint a design! - - O wondrous creations of silence and night! -I watch as ye fade in the clear morning light,-- -As ye melt into tear-drops and trickle away -From the keen, searching eyes of inquisitive Day. -While I gaze ye are gone, and I see you depart -With a wistful regret lying deep in my heart,-- -A longing for something that will not decay, -Or melt like these frost-flowers in tear-drops away,-- -A passionate yearning of heart for that shore -Where beauty unfading shall last evermore; -Nor, e'en as we gaze, from our vision be lost -Like the beautiful things that are pencilled in frost! - - - - -THE BEECH-NUT GATHERER. - - -All over the earth like a mantle, - Golden, and green, and grey, -Crimson, and scarlet, and yellow, - The Autumn foliage lay;-- -The sun of the Indian Summer - Laughed at the bare old trees -As they shook their leafless branches - In the soft October breeze. - -Gorgeous was every hill-side, - And gorgeous every nook, -And the dry, old log was gorgeous, - Spanning the little brook; -Its holiday robes, the forest - Had suddenly cast to earth, -And, as yet, seemed scarce to miss, them, - In its plenitude of mirth. - -I walked where the leaves the softest, - The brightest, and goldenest lay, -And I thought of a forest hill-side, - And an Indian Summer day,-- -Of an eager, little child-face - O'er the fallen leaves that bent, -As she gathered her cup of beech nuts, - With innocent content. - -I thought of the small, brown fingers - Gleaning them one by one, -With the partridge drumming near her - In the forest bare and dun, -And the jet-black squirrel, winking - His saucy, jealous eye -At those tiny, pilfering fingers, - From his sly nook up on high - -Ah, barefooted little maiden - With thy bonnetless, sun-burnt brow, -Thou glean'st no more on the hill-side-- - Where art thou gleaning now? -I knew by the lifted glances - Of thy dark, imperious eye, -That the tall trees bending o'er thee - Would not shelter thee by and by. - -The cottage by the brookside, - With its mossy roof is gone;-- -The cattle have left the uplands, - The young lambs left the lawn;-- -Gone are thy blue-eyed sister, - And thy brother's laughing brow; -And the beech-nuts He ungathered - On the lonely hill-side now. - -What have the returning seasons - Brought to thy heart since then, -In thy long and weary wand'rings - In the paths of busy men?-- -Has the Angel of grief, or of gladness, - Set his seal upon thy brow? -Maiden, joyous or tearful, - Where art thou gleaning now? - - - - -MEMORY-BELLS. - - -Up from the spirit-depths ringing, - Softly your melody swells, -Sweet as a seraphim's singing, - Tender-toned memory-bells! - The laughter of childhood, - The song of the wildwood, -The tinkle of streams through the echoing dell, - The voice of a mother, - The shout of a brother. -Up from life's morning melodiously swell. - -Up from the spirit-depths ringing - Richly your melody swells, -Sweet reminiscences bringing, - Joyous-toned memory-bells!-- - Youth's beautiful bowers, - Her dew-spangled flowers, -The pictures which Hope of futurity drew,-- - Love's rapturous vision - Of regions Elysian, -In glowing perspective unfolding to view. - -Up from the spirit-depths ringing, - Sadly your melody swells, -Tears with its mournful tones bringing, - Sorrowful memory-bells! - The first heart-link broken, - The first farewell spoken, -The first flow'ret crushed in life's desolate track,-- - The agonized yearning - O'er joys unreturning, -All, all with your low, wailing music come back. - -Up from the spirit-depths ringing. - Dirge-like your melody swells; -But Hope wipes the tears that are springing, - Mournful-toned memory-bells! - Above your deep knelling - Her soft voice is swelling, -Sweeter than angel-tones, silvery clear, - Singing:--in Heaven above, - All is unchanging love, -Mourner, look upward, thy home is not here! - - - - -I WILL NOT DESPAIR. - - -I will not despair while thou rulest the storm, - Though the red lightning stream o'er the cloud's sable-breast, -For I catch through the darkness bright gleams of thy form, - And I know 'tis thy voice lulls the tempest to rest-- - The wild tempest to rest: -Nor yet, though the shadows of deepening night, - Hang over my path like the pall of despair; -For one star through the gloom sends its hallowed light, - And I know 'tis thy love smiling tenderly there, - --Ah! tenderly there. - -I will not despair, though the fountain that burst - For me in life's desert be wasted and dry; -For thy love was the fountain that cheered me at first, - And again to its life-giving waters I fly-- - O Holiest, fly! -No; I will not despair while thy hand points me on, - Though flowerless and thorny the path where I roam. -For a calm sunlight rests on the far hills beyond, - And I know 'tis the radiance that streams from my home, - --Home, beautiful home! - - - - -GOD'S WITNESSES. - -A PEN PICTURE FROM THE OLD TESTAMENT. - - -Upon the plain of Dura stood an image great and high, -With golden forehead broad and bright beneath the morning sky; -All regal in its majesty and kingly in its mien, -The grandest and most glorious thing the world had ever seen! - -Full sixty cubits high in air the lordly head was reared, -And robed in gold from head to foot the stately form appeared; -Adown the breast six cubits broad, a flood of yellow gold, -All deftly wrought with matchless skill, its shining tresses rolled. - -And, fronting thus the rising sun, it sent back ray for ray-- -A golden flood of arrowy light--into-the face of day; -While round its feet, in awe and dread, all Shinar stood amazed, -And up into that radiant face with reverent wonder gazed. - -Woke sackbut, psaltery, and harp, woke dulcimer and flute,-- -Then prone in dust fell prince and peer, in lowly worship mute! -The wise, the gifted, and the great, the lordly and the base -Before the image bent the knee, and bowed in dust the face. - -_Not all!_--for lo, three princely men, with calm, unaltered mien, -With unbowed heads and folded arms, gaze on the unhallowed scene! -The golden image awes them not, nor yet the king's decree, -They bow not at the idol's shrine, nor bend the servile knee. - -"Wake, sackbut, psaltery, and harp--wake yet again!"--but nay, -With calm, pale faces, sad and stern, they slowly turn away; -The monarch's wrath, the furnace-flame, death, _death,_--they know it - all-- -Yet all these horrors powerless are those high hearts to appal! - -Haste, haste, obsequious minions, bear the tidings to your lord! -Go, tell him there are some who dare to disobey his word; -Men of the captive, Hebrew race, men high in place and power, -Who scorn to bow their haughty necks at his command this hour! - -"Go, bring them nigh!" the monarch cries, with fury in his face, -"And set them here before my throne, these men of Hebrew race! -Now, Shadrach, Meshach, answer me, and thou, Abednego, -They tell me ye refuse to bow and worship!--is it so? - -"But hearken: if, what time ye hear once more the pealing swell -Of sackbut, psaltery, and harp, ye bend in homage--well; -If not, the fiery furnace shall your quivering flesh devour! -Then where's the God can rescue you from my avenging power?" - -Then answered they, the captive three, in calm, respectful tone, -While over each young, fearless brow faith's hallowed radiance shone, -"Behold, our God is for us now--our God, O King! and He -Is able to deliver us from the fierce flames and thee! - -_"Yea, and He will deliver us!_--yet be it known to thee, -O King, that could we truly know, that so it would not be, -E'en then, we would not bow us down, or worship at the shrine -Of this vain image thou hast reared, or any god of thine!" - -"Now lead ye forth these haughty men!" the wrathful monarch cried, -The while his face grew dark with rage and fury, so defied; -"Yea, heat the furnace seven fold, and in the fiercest flame -Blot out forever from the day each impious scorner's name! - -"Ay, bind them well, ye mighty men, ye warriors stern and bold, -And let your cords be very strong, your fetters manifold! -For neither they nor He they trust shall foil my kingly ire, -Or save them from the wrathful flame of this devouring fire! - -"Now cast them in!--but, oh!--my men!--they fade like morning mist! -Slain by the fierce, out-leaping flame no mortal may resist! -My warriors bold!--alas, alas!--I did not will it so! -Scathed by the fiery blast of death meant only for my foe!" - -The king has risen to his feet!--what sight has fixed his gaze? -What mean the wonder in his face, the look of blank amaze? -And what the changed and falt'ring voice, as doubtfully he cries, -"Tell me, ye counsellors of mine, ye ancient men and wise, - -"Did we not cast, each firmly bound, into the fiercest flame, -Three mortal men, for death designed, of Hebrew race and name? -Three?--_only three?_--or do I dream? What sight is this I view?" -And all his counsellors replied, "O monarch, it is true!" - -"Yet now, amid the blinding flames, unbound, and calm, and free, -Walking, with firm and steady step, the fiery waves, I see -Not three, but four, and lo, the form of Him, the fourth I ween, -Is like the Son of God, so calm, so gracious is His mien!" - -Then to the furnace mouth drew near the monarch with his train-- -The baffled monarch, bowed and quelled, feeling how poor and vain -Were all his boasted pomp and power, how impotent and Week -The arm so void of strength that hour his mad revenge to wreak. - -"Ho, Shadrach, Meshach, hasten ye! and thou, Abednego, -Servants of God Most High, come forth!" the monarch cried; and lo, -Without a touch or tinge of fire, or smell of scorching flame, -Forth, from the glowing heat intense, God's faithful servants came! - -O, servants of a heathen king! all vainly would ye trace -Or hue, or stain, or smell of fire, on any form or face! -Those comely locks of raven hair, smooth and unscorched, behold; -Nor may ye find one trace of flame on any garment's fold! - -Then cried the heathen king again--and, oh, how altered now -The tone and utterance!--how changed the haughty lip and brow!-- -"Now blessed be the God who hath His angel sent to free -His servants who have trusted Him, and changed the King's decree; - -"Who gave their bodies to the flame, rather than once to swerve -From their allegiance to the God whom they delight to serve! -Therefore, let no one speak against this Glorious One and Just, -Who saves, as none but He can save, the souls that in Him trust!" - -Then calmly to their wonted toil, their worldly cares again, -Unconscious of their deathless fame, went forth those dauntless men; -Thrice blessed men! with whom, that day, their gracious Lord had - walked, -And lovingly, as friend with friend, of hallowed mysteries talked. - -He walked with _them_ amid the flames! Oh, to the paths _we_ tread, -The brighter, smoother, greener paths, with summer-flowers o'erspread, -If but our weak hearts welcome Him, the same dear Lord will come, -And walk with us through countless snares, till we arrive at home! - - - - -THE ASSEMBLY OF THE DEAD. - -["Dr. Reid, a traveller through the highlands of Peru, is said to have -found in the desert of Alcoama the dried remains of an assemblage of -human beings, five or six hundred in number, men, women, and children, -seated in a semicircle as when alive, staring into the burning waste -before them. It would seem that, knowing the Spanish invaders were at -hand, they had come hither with a fixed intention to die. They sat -immoveable in that dreary desert, dried like mummies by the hot air, -still sitting as if in solemn council, while over that Areopagus -silence broods everlastingly."] - - -With dull and lurid skies above, - And burning wastes around, -A lonely traveller journeyed on - Through solitudes profound; -No wandering bird's adventurous wing - Paused o'er that cheerless waste, -No tree across those dreary sands - A welcome shadow cast. - -With scorching, pestilential breath - The desert-blast swept by, -And with a fierce, relentless glare - The sun looked from on high; -Yet onward still, though worn with toil, - The eager wand'rer pressed, -While hope lit up his dauntless eye, - And nerved his fainting breast. - -Why paused he in his onward course?-- - Why held his shuddering breath?-- -Why gazed he with bewildered eye, - As on the face of death? -Before him sat in stern array, - All hushed as if in dread, -Yet still, and passionless, and calm, - A concourse of the dead! - -Across the burning waste they stared - With glazed and stony eye, -As if strange fear had fixed erewhile - Their gaze on vacancy; -And woe and dread on every brow - In changeless lines were wrought,-- -Sad traces of the anguish deep - That filled their latest thought! - -They seemed a race of other time, - O'er whom the desert's blast, -For many a long and weary age, - In fiery wrath had passed; -Till, scathed and dry, each wasted form - Its rigid aspect wore, -Unchanged, though centuries had passed - The lonely desert o'er. - -Was it the clash of foreign arms-- - Was it the invader's tread,-- -From which this simple-minded race - In wildest terror fled,-- -Choosing, amid the desert-sands, - Scorched by the desert's breath, -Rather than by the invaders' steel, - To meet the stroke of death? - -And there they died--a free-born race-- - From their proud hills away, -While round them in its lonely pride - The far, free desert lay -And there, unburied, still they sit, - All statute like and cold, -Free, e'en in death, though o'er their homes - Oppression's tide has rolled! - - - - -BE STILL. - - - O throbbing heart, be still! - Canst thou not bear -The heavy dash of Memory's troubled tide, - Long sternly pent, but broken forth again, -Sweeping all barriers ruthlessly aside, - And leaving desolation in its train - Where all was fair? - - Fair, did I say?--Oh yes!-- - I'd reared sweet flowers -Of steadfast hope, and quiet, patient trust, - Above the wreck and ruin of my years;-- -Had won a plant of beauty from the dust, - Fanned it with breath of prayer, and wet with tears - Of loneliest hours! - - O throbbing heart, be still! - That cherished flower-- -Faith in thy God--last grown, yet first in worth, - Will spring anew ere long--it is not dead, -'Tis only beaten to the breast of earth! - Let the storm rage--be calm--'twill lift its head - Some stiller hour! - - - - -LITTLEWIT AND LOFTUS. - - -John Littlewit, friends, was a _credulous_ man. - In the good time long ago, -Ere men had gone wild o'er the latter-day dream -Of turning the world upside down with steam, -Or of chaining the lightning down to a wire, -And making it talk with its tongue of fire. - -He was perfectly sure that the world stood still, - And the sun and moon went round;-- -He believed in fairies, and goblins ill, -And witches that rode over vale and hill -On wicked broom-sticks, studying still - Mischief and craft profound. - -"What a fool was John Littlewit!" somebody cries;-- - Nay, friend, not so fast, if you please! - A humble man was John Littlewit-- - A gentle, loving man; -He clothed the needy, the hungry fed, -Pitied the erring, the faltering led, -Joyed with the joyous, wept with the sad, -Made the heart of the widow and orphan glad, -And never left for the lowliest one -An act of kindness and love undone;-- - And when he died, we may well believe - God's blessed angels bore -John Littlewit's peaceful soul away -To the beautiful Heaven for which we pray, -Where the tree of knowledge blooms for aye, - And ignorance plagues no more. - -Squire Loftus, friends, was a _cultured_ man, - You knew him-so did I: -He had studied the "Sciences" through and through, -Had forgotten far more than the ancients knew, - Yet still retained enough -To demonstrate clearly that all the old, -Good, practical Bible-truths we hold - Are delusion, nonsense, stuff! - -He could show that the earth had begun to grow -Millions and millions of ages ago; -That man had developed up and out -From something Moses knew nothing about,-- -Held with Pope that all are but parts of a whole -Whose body is Nature, and God its Soul;-- -And, since _he_ was a part of that same great whole, -Then the soul of all Nature was also his soul;-- -Or, more plainly--to be not obscure or dim-- -That God had _developed Himself_ in him:-- -That what is called _Sin_ in mankind, is not so, -But is just _misdirection_, all owing, you know, -To defectiveness either of body or brain, -Or both, which the soul is not thought to retain,-- -In the body it acts as it _must_, but that dead -All stain from the innocent soul will have fled! - -"How wise was Squire Loftus!" there's somebody cries;-- - Nay, friend, not so fast, if you please; -His wisdom was that of the self-deceived fool -Who quits the clear fount for the foul, stagnant pool, -Who puts out his eyes lest the light he descry, -Then shouts 'mid the gloom "how clear-sighted am I!" -Who turns from the glorious fountain of Day, -To follow the wild _ignis fatuus_' ray -Through quagmire and swamp, ever farther astray, - With every step that he takes. - -But he died as he lived; and the desolate night -He had courted and loved better far than the light, -Grew more and more dark, till he passed from our sight, - And what shall I say of him more?-- -Give me rather John Littlewit's questionless faith, -To illume my lone path through the valley of death-- -The arm that he leaned on, the mansion of light -That burst through the gloom on his kindling sight, - And I'll leave the poor sceptic his lore!-- -Let me know only this--_I was lost and undone, -But am saved by the blood of the Crucified One_, - And I'm _wise_ although knowing no more! - - - - -TO A MOTHERLESS BABE. - - -Why art thou here, little, motherless one,-- -Why art thou here in this bleak world alone? -With that innocent smile on thy beautiful brow, -What hath this stern world for such as thou? - -Why art thou here in this world of unrest, -Thou that of angels shouldst be the guest?-- -Oh, wild are the storms of this wintry clime, -Dire are the ills that will meet thee in time! -Lamb, with no shelter when tempests are near, -Dove, with no resting place, why art thou here? - - - - -THE CAGED BIRD'S SONG. - -RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED TO HIS PATRONESS AND FRIEND, -BY THE LITTLE, BROWN SINGER HIMSELF. - - - Merrily! - Merrily! - Tschee! tschee! tschee! -What can the meaning of these things be? -Tiniest buds and leaflets green-- -Who shall tell me what these things mean? - Merrily! - Merrily! - Tschee! tschee! tschee! -Much I guess they were meant for me! - - Tsu-ert! - Tsu-ert! - Tschee! tschee! tschee! -So I shall eat them up you see -Somebody, somewhere, is kindly stirred -To think of me, a poor, brown bird!-- - Merrily! - Merrily! - Tschee! tschee! tschee! -Somebody, somewhere, thinks of me! - - Tsu-ert! - Tsu-ert! - Tschee! tschee! tschee! -"A gentle lady?"--and can it be?-- -Say it again, 'tis a pleasant word, -_Thinking of me_, your poor, brown bird!-- - Merrily! - Merrily! - Tschee! tschee! tschee! -Bless the lady that thinks of me - - Tsu-ert! - Tsu-ert! - Tschee: tschee! tschee! -So I shall eat them up, you see! -Hi, a nip here! and ho, a nip there! -Bless me, mistress, how sweet they are! - Merrily! - Merrily! - Tschee! tschee! tschee! -Bless the lady who thinks of me! - - Tsu-ert! - Tsu-ert! - Tschee! tschee! tschee! -Merrily, merrily, let it be!-- -Hi, a nip here! and ho, a nip there! -Over, under, everywhere! - Merrily! - Merrily! - Tschee! tschee! tschee! -Somebody, somewhere, thinks of me! - - - - -CROSSING THE RED SEA - - -Before them lay the heaving deep - Behind, the foemen pressed; -And every face grew dark with fear, - And anguish filled each breast -Save one, the Leader's, he, serene, - Beheld, with dauntless mind, -The restless floods before them seen. - The foe that pressed behind. -"Why hast thou brought us forth for this?" - The people loudly cry;-- -"Were there no graves in Egypt's land, - That here we come to die?" -But calm and clear above the din - Arose the prophet's word,-- -"Stand still! stand still!--and ye shall see - The salvation of the Lord!" - -"Fear not!--the foes whom now you see, - Your eyes no more shall view!-- -Peace to your fears!--your fathers' God - This day shall fight for you; -For Egypt, in her haughty pride - And stubbornness abhorred, -This day, in bitterness shall learn, - Jehovah is the Lord!" - -He spake; and o'er the Red Sea's flood - He stretched his awful wand, -And lo! the startled waves retired, - Abashed, on either hand; -And like a mighty rampart rose - To guard the narrow way -Mysterious, that before the hosts - Of ransomed Israel lay! - -Oh! strange and solemn was the road - Which they were called to tread, -With myst'ries of the ancient deep - Around their footsteps spread,-- -With ocean's unknown floor laid bare - Before their wondering eyes, -And the strange, watery wall that there - On either hand did rise! - -Yet fearlessly, with steadfast faith, - Their Leader led them on; -While, from behind, a heavenly light - Through the dread passage shone;-- -Light for that lone and trembling band - Gleamed out with radiance clear, -While Egypt's host came groping on - Through darkness dense and drear! - -'Tis past; and on Arabia's coast - The tribes of Israel stand, -While fierce and fast Egyptia's host - Approach that quiet strand;-- -Though darkness, like a funeral pall, - Hangs o'er that dreary path, -Still on they desperately press - In bitterness and wrath. - -Then slowly, once again, arose - The Hebrew prophet's hand, -And o'er the waiting deep outstretched - Once more that awful wand;-- -The rushing waters closed in might - Above that pathway lone, -And Pharaoh, in his haughty pride, - And all his hosts were gone! - -Wail, Egypt, wail!--thy kingly crown - Is humbled in the dust! -And thou, though late, art forced to own - That Israel's God is just! -And thou, O Israel, lift thy voice - In one triumphant song -Of praise to Him in whom alone - Thy feeble arm is strong! - - - - -THE WAY-SIDE ELM - - -Standing alone by the highway side, -Stately, and stalwart, and tempest-tried, -Staunch of body and strong of bough, -Fronting the sky with an honest brow, -King of the forest and field is he-- -Yon way side watcher--the old Elm tree. - -When kindly Summer, with smile serene, -Drapes branch and bough in her robe of green, -Ever the joyous, wild birds come -And sing 'mid the clustering leaves at home; -Ever the soft winds, to and fro, -Steal through the branches with music low, -And golden sunbeams sparkle and play, -And dance with shadows the livelong day. - -Up to his forehead undimmed by time, -The morning sun-ray is first to climb, -With the tender touch of its earliest beam -To break the spell of his dewy dream; -And there the longest, when daylight dies, -The rosy lustre of sunset lies, -As loath to fade on the distant sea, -Without an adieu to the old Elm tree. - -And grand it is, when the wintry blast -With shout and clamor is sweeping past, -To watch the stately and stern old tree -As he battles alone on the wintry lea, -With leafy crown to the four winds cast, -And stout arms bared to the ruffian blast; -Or fiercely wrestles with wind and storm, -Unbowed of forehead, unbent of form. - -O proud old tree! O loneliest tree! -Thy strong-limbed brothers have passed from thee;-- -One by one they've been swept away, -And thou alone--of the centuries grey -That have come and gone since thy hour of birth, -And left their scars on the patient earth-- -Remainest to speak to the world and me -Of hoarded secrets that dwell with thee. - -What of thy birth-hour? what of thy prime? -Who trod the wastes in that olden time? -Who gathered flowers where thy shadows lay? -Who sought thy coolness at noon of day? -What warrior chieftains, what woodland maids, -Looked up to thee from the dusky glades? -Who warred and conquered, who lived and died -In those far off years of the forest's pride? - -No voice, no answer! So I, too, speak, -Yet mine, as the insect's call, is weak -To break thy silence, thou lonely tree, -Or win a whispered reply from thee. -Yet, teacher mine, thou hast taught my heart -What soon from its records will not depart-- -A lesson of patience, a lesson of power, -Of courage that fails not in danger's hour, -Of calm endurance through winter's gloom, -Of patient waiting for summer's bloom, -And, heavenward gazing, through storm and night, -Like thee to watch for the dawning light. - - - - -DROWNED - -[Footnote: In the Grand River, at Brantford, July 30th, 1875, Miss -Jessie Hamilton, adopted daughter of C.H. Waterous, Esq., Brantford, -aged 14 years and 3 months, and Miss Ella E. Murton, only daughter of -John W. Murton, Esq., Hamilton, aged 14 years.] - - - The morning dawned without a cloud, -But evening came with pall and shroud,-- -With muffled step, and bated breath, -And mournful whisperings of--_death!_ - - * * * - - Young lips, that in the morning sung -The summer's opening flowers among, -Were hushed and cold;--young, laughing eyes, -That met the dawn with sweet surprise, -Were darkly sealed;--young feet, that pressed -The dewy turf with glad unrest, -Were cold and stirless, never more -To tread the paths they trod before;-- -And they, who in the morning strayed -In fawn-like freedom down the glade, -In solemn, dreamless slumber lay, -To wake no more, at fall of day! - - O stern, remorseless, sullen Tide! -O dark Flood, never satisfied! -Couldst thou not pity, when, to thee -Those young lambs sped so trustingly? -Nay, nay;--the tempest's stormy wrath -Spares not the lily in its path!-- -The tameless river will not rest, -To heed the rose-leaf on its breast!-- -A moment, and the quiet shore -Heard a low wail, and heard no more;-- -And then, with calm, unaltered mien, -The river glided on serene-- -With what a weight of anguish fraught!-- -Unconscious of the woe it wrought. - - "Dust unto dust!" O God, thy way -Strange and mysterious seems to-day, -As, in the darkness of the tomb, -What but an hour ago was bloom -And beauty, now we hide away, -And leave to silence and decay! -Aid us in lowliness to bow, -And own how just and good art thou, -And, though thou hidest still thy face, -Trust the great love we may not trace! - - - - -MY BROTHER JAMES AND I - -WRITTEN AT THE REQUEST OF A BEREAVED BROTHER. - - -We were playmates long together, - By the brook and on the hill, -In the golden, summer weather, - When the days were long and still; -We were playmates in the firelight - While the winter eyes went by, -And we shared one couch at midnight-- - My brother James and I! - -We were schoolmates, too, together, - In the after years that came, -And in toil, or task, or pleasure, - Ours was still one heart, one aim; -Hand in hand we struggled sunward - Toward fair Science' temple high -Aiding each the other onward-- - My brother James and I! - -We were men at last together-- - Oh, the well remembered time, -When we left the dear, old homestead - In our early manhood's prime! -Even then not disunited, - Went we forth with courage high -To one aim and effort plighted-- - My brother James and I! - -But at length there came a shadow - Dark with signs of change and blight -Deep'ning silently but surely - To a long and tearful night, -And beside a lonely river - That went darkly rushing by -Parted we--but not forever-- - My brother James and I! - -Not forever! not forever! - Though the stream is dark and wide -He is beck'ning to me ever - From the sun lit, summer side, -There the glory fadeth never, - And I know that by and by -We shall tread that shore together-- - My brother James and I! - - - - -IDLE - -"Work to-day in my vineyard!" - - -Hast thou, then, been called to labor - In the vineyard of thy Lord, -With the promise that, if faithful, - Thou shall win a sure reward?-- -Look! the tireless sun is hasting - Toward the zenith, and the day, -Which in vanity thou'rt wasting, - Speedeth rapidly away! - -Lo! the field is white for harvest, - And the laborers are few; -Canst thou, then, oh, slothful servant! - Find no work that thou canst do? -Sitting idle in the vineyard! - Sleeping, while the noon-day flies! -Dreaming, while with every pulse-beat - Some unsaved one droops and dies! - -Waken! overburdened lab'rers, - Fainting in the sultry ray, -Cry against thee to the Master - As thou dream'st the hours away -Waken! patient angels bearing - Home Earth's harvest, grieving see -One by one the bright hours waning, - And no sheaf secured by thee! - -And at last, when toil is ended, - And the blessed "Harvest home," -By exulting angels chanted, - Cheers the lab'rers as they come, -What wilt _thou_ do, slothful servant, - With no gathered sheaf to bring? -How canst thou stand, empty-handed, - In the presence of thy King? - -Lo! the field is white for harvest, - And the laborers are few; -Canst thou, then, oh, slothful servant. - Find no work that thou canst do? -Angels wait to bear the tidings - Of some good that thou hast done; -Then, to patient, earnest labor, - Waken, ere the set of sun! - - - - -THE WORLD'S DAY. - - -Dark was the world when from the bowers - Of forfeit Eden man went forth, -With aching heart and blighted powers, - To till the sterile soil of earth; -Yet, even then, a glimmering light - Faintly illumed the eastern skies, -And, struggling through the mists of night, - Beamed soft on Abel's sacrifice. - -It shone on Abram's eager eyes - Upon Moriah's lonely height, -And Jacob, 'neath the midnight skies, - In hallowed dreams beheld its light; -And o'er Arabia's desert sand - Where weary Israel wandered on, -In doubt and fear toward Canaan's land, - The hallowed dawning brighter shone. - -Ages roll on 'mid deep'ning day, - And prophet-bard and holy seer -Watch eagerly the kindling ray, - To see the blessed sun appear-- -Watch, till along the mountain-heights - The long-expected radiance streams, -_And lo! a bloody Cross it lights, - And o'er a blood-stained victim gleams!_ - -And higher climbed the rising sun, - And brighter glowed the joyous day, -And Earth the bowed and weary one - Kindled beneath the blessed ray -A little while--then, dense and drear, - Back rolled the heavy clouds of night, -Till through the murky atmosphere - Scarce stole a single gleam of light - -Then Superstition piled her fires - With slaughtered saints,--and dungeons lone -Echoed the tortured victims' prayers, - The stifled shriek, the smothered groan: -Yet ever, Truth, through blood and tears, - Pursued her dark, tempestuous way, -And Faith illumed those stormy years, - With promises of brighter day. - -It came at last--through parted clouds - The blessed sunlight burst once more, -And a broad flood of glory swept - O'er vale and plain, o'er sea and shore; -Earth, from her wildering dream of tears, - And blood and anguish, guilt and wrong-- -The long, dark, troubled dream of years-- - Awoke, and once again was strong. - -Then crumbled thrones--then empires fell, - As Science, Freedom, Truth, arose, -And, shaking off their numbing spell, - Closed in stern conflict with their foes: -And onward still, with unbowed head, - Faith's dauntless legions held their way, -Marking with heaps of martyred dead - The pathway that behind them lay. - -And still that steady march is on, - Through storm and gloom, through strife and tears. -Still Faith points upward to the sun - Whose glories brighten with the years-- -Whose steady light and heat at length - Shall scatter every cloud away, -And Truth, majestic in her strength, - Shall stand complete in perfect day. - - - - -BRETHREN, GO! - -A VALEDICTION. - - -Brethren, go! the day is bright'ning - As the sultry noon steals on, -And the fields, already whit'ning, - Tell of labor to be done. - -There are toilsome days before you, - Burdens that you may not shun, -Clouds will gather darkly o'er you, - Reeds will fail you one by one. - -Yet go forth to strong endeavor, - 'Neath the shadow of the cross; -He who calls will leave you never,-- - Never let you suffer loss! - -Go; the voices of the dying - Float on every passing breeze; -Tones of wild, imploring crying - Come from lands beyond the seas! - -Go where pain and sorrow languish, - Go where Sin works strife and woe, -Cleanse Earth's stain, and heal her anguish, - Jesus calls you--brethren, go! - - - - -OUR NATION'S BIRTHDAY. - -JULY 1ST, 1867. - - -Ring out your glad peals of rejoicing! - Wake Music's enlivening strain! -Let the sound float abroad o'er your waters, - And echo through valley and plain; -From the shores of the far-distant Fundy, - To the lakes of the limitless West, -Let the sound of a People's exulting - Go forth in its joyous unrest! - -For a great Christian Nation, this morning, - From fragments disjointed made one, -With the laws and the speech of old England, - Looks up to the new-risen sun; -And, scarce conscious as yet of her mission-- - Of the wealth of her young, earnest life-- -Starts out in the march of the nations, - To a future with perils how rife! - -Yet who shall not hope for that future-- - God's wide-open Book in her hand, -With her sturdy and truth-loving yeomen, - Her broad-spreading acres of land?-- -And who does not welcome the rising - Of a new star of promise this morn, -Whose beams shall illumine the darkness - Of millions that yet are unborn? - -Then hail we, in songs of rejoicing, - Our father-land over the sea, -Britannia, pride of the ocean, - The home of the gallant and free!-- -Hail, Queen of dominions that girdle - The world like an emerald zone, -VICTORIA, Head of three Empires, - Meek Sovereign of Earth's proudest throne! - -And hail to our new-born Dominion! - Hail, Canada, happy and blest! -May thy flag ever wave o'er the freest, - Most glorious clime of the West; -Be freedom thy watchword, and Onward, - Thy motto, still cherished and true, -And ever abroad on the breezes - Float thy time-honored "RED, WHITE AND BLUE." - - - - -OUR FIELD IS THE WORLD. - - -Our field is the world!--let us forth to the sowing, - O'er valley and mountain, o'er desert and plain, -Beside the still waters through cool meadows flowing, - O'er regions unblest by the dew and the rain;-- -Let us scatter the seed, though in sorrow and weeping, - Though fields should be verdureless, wintry, and bare, -The Lord of the harvest hath still in His keeping - Each seed as it falls, and will guard it with care. - -Our field is the world!--let us forth to the reaping; - The long day is waning, the eve draweth nigh; -Faint omens of storm up the heavens are creeping, - And the sigh of the tempest is heard in the sky;-- -The work-hour is brief, but the rest is forever, - Then stay not for weariness, languor, or pain, -But forth to the harvest with earnest endeavor, - And gather with gladness the sheaves that remain. - -Our field is the world!--let us forth to the gleaning, - The stores may be small that our labors reward, -Yet One from the height of His glory is leaning, - Attent to behold what we do for the Lord;-- -Where, haply, some reaper has passed on with singing, - O'erladen with sheaves for the garner above, -May yet be some handfuls that wait for our bringing, - To crown with completeness the stores of His love. - -Our field is the world!--whether sowing or reaping, - Or gleaning the handfuls that others have passed, -Or waiting the growth of the seed that, with weeping, - On rocky and desolate plains we have cast, -Yet each for his toiling, and each for his mourning, - Shall sometime rejoice when the harvest is done, -And know, in the flush of Eternity's morning, - That the toil, the reward, and the glory are one. - - - - -SAULT STE. MARIE - - - Laughing and singing -With rhythmical flow, -Leaping and springing, -O light-hearted Sault!-- -Tossing up snowy hands -In thy glad play, -Shaking out dewy locks -Bright with the spray,-- -Joyously ever -Thy bright waters go, -Yet wearying never, -O beautiful Sault! - - Kingly Superior -Leaps to thy arms, -And all his broad waters -Are bright with thy charms; -They sparkle, and glitter, -And flash in their play, -Chasing ripple and rainbow -Away and away! -Weary, I ween, -Of his solemn repose, -Gaily the mighty Flood -Flashes and glows; -And, buoyantly, brightly, -Fleet-footed or slow, -Doth dance with thee lightly, -Unwearying Sault! - - If I were a fairy -I'd dance with thee too, -Daily and nightly, -Unfalt'ring and true;-- -In sunlight and starlight, -In darkness and day, -As free as the breezes, -As glad in our play! -We'd sing in the darkness, -We'd laugh in the light, -We'd whirl in the eddies -At noonday and night,-- -We'd toss up the waters -In sunshine, to see -How they'd fling us back di'monds -And gold in their glee;-- -Such amethysts, topazes, -Rubies and pearls, -As we'd strew o'er the tide -In our innocent whirls, -And never be lonely, -Or weariness know-- -Ourselves, and us only-- -O light-hearted Sault! - - Yet the dance is thine own, -And the song and the glee, -Thou dwellest alone, -Untrammelled and free -Our ships may not glide -O'er thy bosom,--our feet -May not trace out one path, -Or explore one retreat! -We may hollow our channels -To left or to right, -And glide on our way -With thy gambols in sight, -Yet this, and this only, -Of thee we may know, -Thou lone, but not lonely, -Free, fetterless Sault! - - Farewell, ye bright waters,-- -We part, and for aye!-- -My pathway leads on -O'er the billows away;-- -These feet will grow weary -In life's busy mart, -These eyes be oft tear-dim, -And heavy this heart; -But thou wilt sing on -In thy joyous unrest, -Unchanging, unwearying, -Buoyant and blest -While the slow-footed centuries -Glide on their way, -And nations grow hoary, -And sink in decay,-- -Thou, tireless and tameless, -Unchecked in thy flow, -Shalt sing on as ever, -O beautiful Sault! - - - - -BROTHER, REST. - -IN MEMORY OF THE REV. J. E. V. - - -Rest, brother, rest! Thy eyes no more shall weep - O'er unhealed anguish and unconquered sin; -Thy peaceful slumber, tranquilized and deep, - Is marred no more by Earth's discordant din. -Calm are the skies above thy quiet bed, - And calm is Earth in Summer-glories dressed, -And cool and sweet the fresh mould richly spread - Above thy folded hands and peaceful breast. - -Oh, could my voice thy placid slumber break, - And win thee back to mortal scenes again,-- -Bid thee, unblamed, thy heavenly paths forsake, - Once more to walk with me 'mid care and pain, -I could not, dare not breathe the word, for thou - Hast long enough toiled where the dark curse lies -On all Earth's fairest fruitage;--brother, now - Thou seest the "goodly land" with unveiled eyes! - -Oh no! I would not breathe that word, though life - For me be sadder for the smile I miss; -For thou hast gained a home unreached by strife, - Undimmed by tears--a home of changeless bliss! -There, in sweet fellowship with angels blessed, - And all the crowned and glorified above, -In thy loved Saviour's longed-for presence rest, - And bask forever in the light of LOVE! - - - - -LOVED AND LOST, ---OR-- -THE SKY-LARK AND THE VIOLET. - - -VIOLET'S SONG - -I. - - Come down from thy dazzling sphere, - Bird of the gushing song! -Come down where the young leaves whisper low, -While the breeze steals in with a murmurous flow, -And the tender branches wave to and fro - In the soft air all day long! - - I have watched thy daring wing - Cleaving the sun-bright air, -Where the snowy cloud is asleep in light, -Or dreamily floating in robes of white, -While thy soul gushed forth in its song's free might, - Till my spirit is dim with care. - - For oh, I have loved thee well, - Thou of the soaring wing!-- -And I fear lest the angels that sit on high, -In the calm, still depths of the upper sky, -Will love with a tenderer love than I, - As they stoop to hear thee sing - - Come down from the heights, my bird, - And warble thy lays to me! -I shall pine and droop in my grassy nook -For the passionate song that my spirit shook, -And the low, sad voice of the grieving brook - Will murmur all night of thee! - - I shall sit alone--_alone_, - While the noontide hour steals by; -And mournful the woodland's music will be,-- -Mournful the blue, calm heavens to me,-- -Mournful the glory on earth and sea,-- - And mournful the sunset sky! - - O voice of exulting song!-- - O bright, unwavering eye!-- -O free wing soaring in fetterless flight -Up to the Fountain of quenchless Light!-- -O, Earth that darken'st in sudden night, - I shudder, and faint, and die! - - -SKY-LARK'S SONG - -II. - -From the dewy grass upspringing-- -From my wing the pearl-drops flinging-- -Upward, with exultant singing, - Let me--let me fly! -Sun, with gemmed and flashing banners, -List my rapturous hosannas-- - As I mount, on circling wing, -Higher, o'er the fragrant meadow,-- -O'er the forest's broken shadow,-- -O'er the hill-tops green and golden,-- -Where the ivied ruins olden -Echo out with sudden gladness -As I break their brooding sadness - With the lays I sing! - -Joy, joy!--I have caught the song - Of the angels that sit above!-- -And warble in musical chorus alway -Those notes that oftentimes earthward stray -So tenderly sweet at the fall of day, -What time the rose-bud's trembling spray - Thrills with their lays of love!-- -Joy, joy!--I have caught the song - Of bright ones that sit above!-- -And the far-off Earth's a forgotten thing, -As I mount on free and fetterless wing, -Up to the sun-fields where they sing, - Drawn on by their soul of love! - - Hush! is it a voice of Earth-- - Of the far-away Earth, I hear? - Breathing of the fragrant meadow,-- - Of the drooping willow's shadow,-- - Of the breezes' gentle sighing,-- - Of the brooklet's low replying,-- - Of the blue, o'er-arching heaven,-- - Of the violet-curtained even,-- - Of the tender, dreamy starlight,-- - Of the hushed, majestic midnight?-- -And through all that murmur so sad and low, -Meanings of passionate anguish flow, -Till I feel a weight on my glancing wing -Bearing me earthward while yet I sing, - With its burden of heavy woe. - - -VIOLET'S SONG - -III. - - Bird, I am drooping in tears alone, -Pressing my cheek 'gainst the cold, grey stone, -And looking upward with aching eye, -Through the tender depths of the morning sky;-- -But thy form fades out in that glorious sea -That lieth so calmly 'twixt thee and me; -A speck--it is lost in the azure deep! -And I droop in the deepening gloom, and weep - My sorrowful life away! - - O voice of passionate song!-- - O bright, unwavering eye!-- -O free wing soaring in limitless flight -Beyond the stretch of my aching sight! -How the cold earth darkens in sudden night! - How I shudder, and faint, and die! - - -SKY-LARK'S SONG - -IV. - -Fainter and fainter--'tis heard no more-- -That plaintive strain from Earth's lessening shore-- -And I fling its weight from my fetterless wing, -Higher and higher in heaven to sing, - Afar from Earth's faded shore! - I shall take my seat in the clouds, - I shall sit beside the Sun,-- -I shall gaze with calm, unfaltering eye - On the face of the radiant one! - O glorious, kingly Sun!-- - O brightly beautiful one!-- -O Monarch, sitting serenely bright, -In thy quenchless glory on heaven's height, - I am upward drawn to thee!-- -And thy fiery spirit's ardent flame -Is downward-drawn to me! -Sun, with gemmed and flashing banners, -List my rapturous hosannas, -As I circle nearer,--nearer,-- -Where your rays burn brighter, clearer,-- -Up, on wings of strong desire, -Higher still, and ever higher! - - -VIOLET'S SONG - -V. - - I droop by the cold, grey stone!-- - I faint in the smitten day!-- -I hear not the song of my own free bird -Whose joyous music my glad heart stirred -But yester-morn! I can see no more -The humming-bird's wing as it flutters o'er - The fragrant clover-bloom! -The brook, with a far-off, sorrowful tone, -Seemeth in measureless grief to moan - As it hurrieth on its way-- - The breath of my lost perfume - Floats on the wandering breeze, - Over the meadow's perishing bloom, - Over the cold, blue seas! - I would not gather it back, - I would not fill anew -With love's pure incense my broken urn, -For the lost can never more return - From the sky's encompassing blue! - - It is well!--I would not hang - A weight on his fetterless wing; -For was he not make for the sun-bright sky?-- -To face the glories that burn on high?-- -And I, to sit 'mid Earth's fading bloom, -And waste my life in the faint perfume - I fling to the thankless breeze?-- -Let him cleave the azure infinite!-- -Let him pour his soul out in song's free might!-- -Till the white-robed seraphs that dwell in light - Shall stoop to hear him sing!-- -Be it mine to fade ere the day-beams die, -And alone in the sighing grass to lie, -With my dull face turned to the tearless sky, - A faded, forgotten thing! - - - - -THE GRACIOUS PROVIDER. - - -_"They need not go away!"_ the Master said, - _"Give ye to them."_ Ah, Lord, behold our store-- - These loaves, these fishes,--see, we have no more! -How shall this fainting throng with these be fed? -_"Make them sit down!"_--and the disciples sped - To do His will. He blessed, and brake, and gave - And as they ate, each heart grew strong and brave, -Filled, till they craved no more, with hallowed bread. -Thus, when our hearts grow faint, and stores are small, - And thou demandest all that we possess, -O, help us, Lord, to bring that little all, -Knowing shouldst thou the gift accept and bless, - Our worthless store, so changed and glorified, -Ourselves shall feed, and fainting throngs beside. - - - - -REST IN HEAVEN - - -When tossed on time's tempestuous tide, - By angry storms resistless driven, -One hope can bid our fears subside-- - It is the hope of rest in Heaven. - -With trusting heart we lift our eyes - Above the dark clouds, tempest-driven, -And view, beyond those troubled skies, - The peaceful, stormless rest of Heaven. - -No more to shed the exile's tears,-- - No more the heart by anguish riven,-- -No longer bent 'neath toilful years,-- - How sweet will be the rest of Heaven - - - - -GOOD NIGHT - - -Good night, good night!--the day -Slowly has borne away, - Music and light; -Once more the starry train -Sweeps over vale and plain, -Soft falls the dews again-- - Good night-good night! - -Day's weary toils are done, -Set is the glorious sun, - Faded the light;-- -Now, to the weary breast -Ever a welcome guest,-- -Comes the sweet hour of rest-- - Good night--good night! - -Evening's cool shadows lie -Calmly o'er earth and sky; - And, from the height -Of the far, wooded hill, -Sends the lone whip-poor-will, -Softer and sweeter still, - Plaintive good night. - -Gently let slumber lie -On every weary eye - Tired of the light! -E'en as the folded flowers -Sleep in the forest bowers, -Rest, through the silent hours-- - Good night--good night! - - - - -THE OLD CHURCH CHOIR - - - I am slowly treading the mazy track -That leadeth, through sunshine and shadows, back-- -Through freshest meads where the dews yet cling -As erst they did to each lowly thing, -Where flowers bloom and where streamlets flow -With the tender music of long ago-- -To the far-off past that, through mists of tears, -In its spring time loveliness still appears, -And wooes me back to the gleaming shore -Of sunny years that return no more. - - And to night, all weary, and sad, and lone, -I return in thought to those bright years flown, -Whose lingering sweetness, e'en yet, I feel -Like the breath of flower-scents over me steal -I am treading o'er mounds where the dead repose,-- -I am stirring the dust of life's perished rose,-- -I am rustling the withered leaves that lie -Thick in the pathway of Memory,-- -And calling out from each lonely hill -Echoes of voices forever still. - - And I pause again where I stood of yore -In the Sabbath light at an old church door, -And, ling'ring a moment, I turn to view -The green hills leaning against the blue -As erewhile they stood in the golden calm -Of morning's sunlight and breath of balm, -With clustering verdure, and blossoming trees, -And gush of bird song and hum of bees, -And glancing shadows that came and went -Of soft clouds high in the firmament, -Floating away in their robes of white -On snowy pinions through realms of light. - - And I see again through the azure sky -The same white cloudlets still floating by; -And a greener line through the meadow shows -Where a little streamlet still, singing, flows; -And out from a woodland there floats again -Of joyous warblers the old, sweet strain; -While still, with serious, reverent air, -Aged and young seek the house of prayer. - - And with them I enter the narrow door -That open stands as it stood of yore; -And look up again at the windows tall,-- -At the narrow aisles and the naked wall,-- -At the high, straight pulpit with cushion red, -And its worn, old Bible still open spread,-- -At the pews where, unhindered, the slant rays fall,-- -At the long, plain gallery over all -Where maid and matron, and son and sire, -Together sang in the old church-choir. - - And again, as I listen, I seem to hear -The strains of old, half-forgotten Mear, -And solemn China, and grave Dundee, -And stately Rockingham, calm and free, -And rare Old-Hundred's majestic swell, -And tender Hebron we loved so well, -And tuneful Stonefield's melodies sweet, -Bridgewater, Windham, and Silver-street, -And rich St. Martin, and yet again -Old Coronation's exultant strain, -And sweet Devizes' slow, warbled tone, -Resounding Lenox and Arlington, -And gentle Boyleston, and many more -Which Memory holds in her treasured store, -That rise and fall on the tranquil air, -As they did of old, in this house of prayer; -Where, Sabbath by Sabbath, for many a year, -Often and often we sang them here. - - For many a year--but they all are flown, -The band is broken, and hushed each tone, -And voices that mingled in tuneful breath, -Are silent now in the hush of death! -Scattered like Autumn-leaves far and near -Are those who clustered together here,-- -Gone, like flowers in the swift stream cast, -Like wandering birds when the summer's past, -Like perfume shed in the tempest's track, -Never again to be gathered back! - - I am thinking now of a young, fair face, -A brow of beauty, a form of grace, -The tender tones of whose sweet voice long -Swelled richly forth in our Sabbath-song; -But she laid her own, in a loved one's hand, -And he led her forth to a distant land, -Where a home, all radiant with love's pure beam, -Fulfilled her girlhood's enraptured dream;-- -Yet she only pined 'neath the stranger's sky, -And he brought her back to her own--to die! - - The breath of Spring-time was on the plain, -And flowers were bursting to life again, -And birds were carolling full and free -On the leafy boughs of the forest tree, -When the sweetest voice in our tuneful throng -Faltered and failed from our choral song, -And we laid her down at her pure life's close, -Peaceful and pale in her last repose. - - The silvery Thames, as it glides along, -Murmurs anear her its old, sweet song;-- -The tuneful robin sings still, as when -He warbled for her in the woodland glen;-- -The star she loved, through the long, still night -Keeps his old, calm watch 'mid the planets bright;-- -Her favorite flowers are still as fair -As when twined 'mid the braids of her raven hair;-- -But the voice we missed in that far-off Spring -Is only heard where the angels sing! - - And yet another,--I see him now, -With his manly bearing and noble brow-- -Who turned away from our old church-choir, -To sing with the angels in worship higher ---As an alien bird 'neath inclement skies -Foldeth its pinions to earth and dies, -So he, o'erwearied with life's unrest, -Folded his mantle around his breast, -And, meekly bowing his weary head, -Went down to rest with the quiet dead, -And long were the hearts that had loved him lone -For the absent form and the missing tone! - - There was still another. I yet behold -That form as I saw it in days of old, -As we stood in the calm of those Sabbath days, -And mingled our voices in hymns of praise. ---Ah! little we dreamed as we saw him there -In his proud, young beauty, with brow so fair, -And eye so lustrous, and tones so clear, -That the cruel spoiler was then so near;-- -We dreamed it not, till we saw the light -Of his clear eyes growing so strangely bright. -And the flush of health on his cheek give place -To the deadly hectic's burning trace! - - There's a tranquil isle amid Southern seas-- -A fair isle, swept by no wintry breeze-- -Where the wandering zephyr through long, bright hours -Gathers the perfume of orange bowers, -And roses droop in the fragrant bloom -Of their summer life o'er a nameless tomb, ---In that nameless tomb he is laid to rest, -And the dust of the stranger is on his breast, -And the breath of the South sweeps its viewless lyre -O'er another lost from our old church-choir - - One dreamt of wealth on a distant shore, -And he wandered far to return no more, -For the deadly pestilence swept his path, -And the strong man drooped 'neath its burning wrath, -And he sleeps alone in the shining dust -Whose golden promises mocked his trust! - - By a lonely lake in the boundless West, -Another reposes in dreamless rest,-- -And yet another--her pure life done-- -Slumbers far off toward the setting sun, -And the youngest voice in our old church-choir -Is to-day attuned to a seraph's lyre - - That old church choir--I am standing lone -Where we stood together in days by gone, -But the tranquil air by no voice is stirred -Save the lonely call of a distant bird. -The grey, old church is no longer seen, -But the rank grass over its site grows green, -And, 'mid the tomb-stones, with sighing breath, -The sad wind whispers of change and death - - Hush! is it fancy?--or do I hear -A far-off melody, faint yet clear, -Of gentle voices, sweet tones of yore, -Tenderly borne from an unseen shore? ---Ah! loved, long parted, ye're joined once more -In the Sabbath light of a changeless shore! -And there, with never a jarring note, -Your joyous anthems forever float -In sweet accord with the seraph strains -That sweep unchecked o'er celestial plains; -And I long to rejoin you in regions higher, -Loved ones, long lost from our old church-choir! - - - - -NO OTHER NAME - -"For there is none other name under heaven, given among -men, whereby we must be saved." - - -Jesus! the only name that's given, - Through which salvation we may claim; -This, this alone, we breathe to Heaven, - For God accepts no other name. - -No other name when skies are bright. - And sunshine glows on field and flower; -No other name when, dark as night, - The heavy clouds tempestuous lower. - -No other name when, drooping low, - O'erburdened by sin's heavy load, -The contrite spirit pines to know - The way to hope, to Heaven, to God. - -No other name when, like a flood, - Temptations beat upon the soul; -Faith, breathing that one name to God, - The raging billows shall control. - -In peace or conflict, toil or rest, - In wealth or want, in praise or blame, -Still wear it graven on thy breast, - And, dying, plead _no other name!_ - - - - -HEART-PICTURES - - -Two pictures, strangely beautiful, I hold -In Mem'ry's chambers, stored with loving care -Among the precious things I prized of old, -And hid away with tender tear and prayer -The first, an aged woman's placid face -Full of the saintly calm of well spent years, -Yet bearing in its pensive lines the trace -Of weariness, and care, and many tears. - -We sat together in our Sabbath-place, -Through the hushed hours of many a holy day, -And sweet it was to watch the gentle grace -Of that bowed form with those who knelt to pray, -And lifted face, when swelled the sacred psalm, -And the rich promise of God's word was shed -Upon her waiting heart like heavenly balm, -And all our souls with angels' meat were fed. - -There came a day when missing was that face,-- -The form so meekly bent in prayer was gone,-- -Those lifted eyes, so radiant with praise, -Beyond the spheres in saintly beauty shone!-- -Another crowned one swelling Heaven's high train-- -Another loved one missed from our low shrine,-- -Hers, the rich wealth of Heaven's eternal gain,-- -A tearful trust, a tender memory, mine! - -The other picture is a young, fair child-- -A gentle boy, with curls of clustered gold, -And calm, dark eyes that seldom more than smiled -As though his life had grown too grave and old-- -Too full of earnest thought, and anxious quest, -And silent searchings after things unseen;-- -And yet, the quiet child seemed strangely blest, -As one who inly feels Heaven's peace serene. - -So close beside me, in his Sabbath-place, -He sat or stood, my hand I might have laid -Upon his rippling curls, or dropped a kiss -Upon his fair, white forehead while he prayed. -Frail, beauteous boy!--upon his little feet-- -Though all unheard by love's quick ear attent-- -E'en then Death's chilling waters sternly beat, -And with his sweet child-hymns their murmurs blent. - -One Sabbath day there was an empty seat-- -I could not see for blinding tears that hour-- -But by and by, where Living waters meet -In God's fair Paradise, I saw my flower, -And ceased to weep!-Henceforth with loving care, -These precious pictures in my heart I shrine-- -Food for sweet thought, incentive to sweet prayer-- -My own, until I reach _their_ home and _mine!_ - - - - -FELLOWSHIP WITH CHRIST - - -To pray as Jesus prayed, - When faithless brethren sleep,-- -To weep the ruin sin has made-- - The only ones that weep,-- -To bear the heavy cross,-- - To toil, yet murmur not,-- -To suffer pain, reproach, and loss,-- - Be such our earthly lot. - -Yet oh, how richly blest - The Master's cup to share,-- -The aching grief that wrung His breast,-- - His broken-hearted prayer,-- -If thus we may but gain - One sheaf of golden wheat -Gleaned from Earth's sultry harvest-plain, - To lay at His dear feet!-- - -If thus we may but win - One precious earthly gem -Snatched from the mire of vice and sin, - For His rich diadem!-- -Here, sorrow, patience, prayer; - In Heaven, the rich reward! -Here, the sharp thorns, the cross,--and there - "Forever with the Lord"! - - - - -AN ALLEGORY - -AN OLD LESSON IN A NEW DRESS. - - -"Here is a lantern, my little boy," - Said a father to his child, -"And yonder's a wood, a lonely wood, - Tangled, and rough, and wild; -And now, this night,--this very hour, - Though gloomy and dark it be, -By the single light of this lamp alone, - You must cross the wild to me! - -"I'll be on the farther side, my son, - So follow the path you see, -And at the end of this narrow way, - Awaiting you, I will be!" -Thus bidden, the child set out, but soon, - With the gloomy waste ahead, -Oppressed with terror and doubt he stopped, - Shaking with fear and dread. - -"Father!--father!--I cannot see!-- - The forest is thick and black, -I'm sure there is danger ahead of me, - Please, father, call me back!" -But the father's voice through the gloomy wild, - In answering accents said,-- -_"Just keep in the light of your lamp, my child, - And don't look too far ahead!"_ - -Thus cheered, the child pressed trustingly on, - Though trembling much with fear, -For around, beyond, and overhead, - The forest was dark and drear, -And ever, to keep his courage up, - To himself he softly said,-- -"He told me to keep in the light of my lamp, - And not look too far ahead!" - -At length the other side was gained, - And lo, the father was there! -To welcome his child from the dreary wild, - Where darkness and danger were; -And, "why did you fear, my son?" he said, - "You had plenty of light, you see, -Though it lit but a step at a time, enough - To guide you safely to me! - -"And besides, I was just ahead in the dark-- - Though you did not see me at all-- -To be sure that no evil or accident - Should my darling child befall; -Then remember, my son, in life's darkest ways - The simple words that I said,-- -_'Just keep in the light of your lamp, my child, - And not look too far ahead?'_" - - - - -THE CRY OF THE KARENS - -Lines written after hearing a returned missionary relate some of the -traditions, and speak of the long-cherished hopes of this interesting -people. - - -A voice from the distant East-- - A voice from a far-off shore-- -A voice from the perishing tribes of Earth - Has wandered the blue seas o'er! -It comes with a lingering cry, - With a wail of anguish and pain,-- -"O brothers,--our brothers!--why - Do we look for you still in vain? - -"We are weary,--we droop,--we die! - We grope in the deepening gloom! -We look above with despairing eye! - We drop in the yawning tomb! -Our children stretch their hands - Far over the waters blue, -And vainly cry from our darkened lands-- - Alas, how long--for you! - -"Brothers! do ye not keep - _Our law_ of the olden time, -For which, through ages of woe, we weep - In darkness, and sin, and crime? -There are sails from the distant West - Dotting our waters blue, -And the feet of strangers our shores have pressed, - But they came not, alas, from you! - -"We know there's a God above, - We know there's a land of rest,-- -But there's naught that whispers of pard'ning love - To our spirits by guilt oppressed! -We call to the earth below,-- - To the calm, unanswering heaven,-- -But no voice replies to our cry of woe - That can tell us of sins forgiven! - -"And yet we look and wait, - With sorrowing hearts and sore, -If haply we may behold, though late, - Your sails from the western shore;-- -O, come with that precious word - We lost in the far-off years, -And tell us the voice of woe is heard, - And God has beheld our tears!" - - - - -ALONE - - -Alone, alone!--the night is very silent, - Voiceless the stars are, and the pallid moon -Through the unknown sends down no tone, no utt'rance - To break the hush of midnight's solemn noon! -I stretch my arms toward the unanswering heavens, - 'Tis empty space,--no form, no shape is here! -I call,--no answer to my cry is given, - Powerless my voice falls on Night's leaden ear! - -Alone, alone!--I thought the dead were near me,-- - The holy dead. E'en now, methought I heard -Low tones whose music long ago did cheer me, - That shadowy hands the parting branches stirred -'Twas but the night wind's mournful sigh above me,-- - 'Twas but the lonely streamlet's grieving tone, -No voice comes back from those who once did love me,-- - No white hand beckons--I am all alone! - -Alone?--not so! One sacred, unseen Presence - Fills the far depths, broods round me and above, -Enfolding all in His own Omnipresence, - Pervading all with His unstinted love, -In Him I live, and move, and have my being, - My soul's deep yearnings all to Him are known, -On me in kindness rests His eye all seeing, - His arm upholds me,--I am not alone! - - - - -MARY - - - Thus early with the dead-- - Thou of the young, fair brow, the laughing eye, - The light and joyous tread,-- -Mary, we little thought thou would'st be first to die! - - A little while ago - We saw thee first in girlhood's early bloom; - Now thou art lying low, -Thy pale hands crossed in slumber, silent in the tomb! - - Ah me! 'tis hard to speak - Of thee as of the dead--the pale, still dead!-- - 'Tis hard to think the b'eak, -Stern blast of winter sweeps above thy low, cold bed! - - * * * * * - - Thus early with thy God! - 'Twas a rich boon He sent whose loving voice - Called thee to His abode, -'Mid the sweet bowers of Heaven forever to rejoice! - - Mary! thy feet have passed - The silent valley;--on thy placid brow - Heaven's sunlight falls at last,-- -Thou'rt with God's shining ones--thyself an angel now! - - Thank God! the dreary tomb - Has lost its sting! The Saviour broke death's reign, - Clothing with fadeless bloom -Frail human dust! In Heaven, Mary, we'll meet again! - - - - -"I AM DOING NO GOOD!" - - - "I am doing no good!" said a little rill, -As it rippled along at the foot of a hill, -"I am doing no good with my babbling here, -No one is listening,--no one is near!" - - "'No good!--no good!'" said a violet blue, -As it shook from its petals the sparkling dew, -And opened its wondering, azure eyes -To the soft, clear light of the morning skies. - - "'No good?'"--said a willow tree, bending low -To kiss the rivulet, "say not so! -Daily and hourly I draw from thee -The grace and beauty that dwell with me!" -And the rustling reeds in the marge that stood -Reproachfully murmured--"'no good!--no good!'" - "'No good,' indeed!"--cried a dainty bird, -And she sprang from her nest as the sound she heard, -And fluttered her wings o'er the sorrowing stream, -While her bright plumes flashed in the morning beam. -"Peace, peace, my brook!"--and the young leaves stirred -At the gushing notes of the happy bird-- -"Do you not nourish the dear beech tree -That spreads its shelter for mine and me? -You give yon wild rose its beauteous hue,-- -And yonder violet its tender blue,-- -And yonder willow its foliage fair,-- -And yonder lily its fragrance rare! -The sun is gracious and kind, we think, -But to you, my brooklet, we come _to drink!_ -His beams with glory and warmth are rife, -But you afford us _the cup of life!_ -Gentle rivulet, cease to pine!-- -Sing, and be happy for me and mine!" - - "And me!" said the lily, "and me!"--"and me!" -Said violet, and rose-bud, and willow tree; -And rustling reeds, and the gray, old beech -Tossing his arms high out of reach,-- -Fluttering insect, and waving tree, -Murmured and rustled "for me!"--"and me!" - - Then the rivulet brightening, sped along, -With a freer step and a gladder song, -Through many a valley and meadow green -Making her flowery foot-prints seen,-- -Deepening ever and broadening out, -Greeting the hills with a joyous shout,-- -Greeting the rocks with a soft caress, -And singing still in her joy's excess, -Till her song swelled out to an anthem free, -As she caught the flash of the distant Sea-- -The glorious Sea that, with answering tone, -Welcomed his guest from the hill-side lone. - - Then the Stream shook hands with the kingly main, -And, glancing back to her source again, -Beheld each place where her steps had been -Glowing in tenderest, loveliest green,-- -Saw beauty and fruitfulness fresh and fair -Wherever her gladdening footsteps were, -And caught from the green hills far away -The echo of many a woodland lay, -And the perfume of many a wild flower borne -On the scented wings of the dewy morn. - - And then the rivulet understood -That all along she'd been doing good;-- -That a rich green belt on Earth's sunny breast -Was left to tell of her mission blest;-- -That Earth with lovelier flowers was rife -For her calm footsteps and patient life;-- -That giving much, she had gathered more, -Winning an ever-increasing store;-- -And, at length, unfettered, and strong, and free, -A home she had found with the glorious Sea! - - - - -HAIL, RISEN LORD! - - -Hail, risen Lord, upon whose brow -The crown of victory resteth now, - Unfading as the sun! -Hail, vanquisher of every foe, -Of Sin, dread source of all our woe, - And Death--the last undone! - -Hail, risen Lord,--the empty grave -Proclaims aloud thy power to save,-- - Thy high, victorious might! -Hail, Lord of life, and peace, and love, -On thy exalted throne above, - In uncreated light! - -Hail, risen Lord,--we bend the knee, -And lift the adoring eye to thee, - And yield thee worship meet!-- -And, while the angelic hosts on high -Shout their hosannas through the sky, - We breathe them at thy feet - -For here, 'mid darkness, sin, and death, -Our loudest praise is but a breath,-- - An infant's feeble sigh! -Yet, haply, to thy gracious ear -Our weak hosannas are as dear, - As those that swell on high! - -Hail, risen Lord,--exalted King, -Well may the highest heavens ring - With rapture's sweetest lays! -Be ours to add our feeble sigh -To the full chorus of the sky, - In reverential praise! - - - - -LINES - -ON THE DEATH OF A YOUNG MOTHER - - - A voice missed by the dear home-hearth-- -A voice of music and gentle mirth-- -A voice whose lingering sweetness long -Will float through many a Sabbath song, -And many a hallowed, evening hymn, -Tenderly breathed in the twilight dim! ---But that missing voice, with a richer tone, -Is heard in the anthems before the throne; -And another voice and another lyre, -Are added now to the angel-choir! - - There's a missing face when the board is spread-- -There's a vacant seat at the table's head,-- -A watchful eye and a helpful hand -That will come no more to that broken band. ---But she sits to-day at the board above, -In the tender light of a holier love; -And the kindling eye and the beaming face -At the feast on high hold a nobler place! - - A form is missed in the hour of prayer, -At the altar, now, there's an empty chair, -Where one lonely pleader hath scarcely won -Strength, e'en yet, for "_Thy will be done!_" ---But that missing form in its saintly dress -Of Christ's unsullied righteousness, -Bows with worshipful accents sweet, -Where angels bow at the Saviour's feet - - A step is missed by the cradle bed -Where an infant nestles its sleeping head-- -Smiling, perchance, in his baby rest, -Deeming his pillow her gentle breast ---But the feet that moved with a soundless tread -In the calm still night by that cradle bed, -Beyond the waters of death now stand -Mid the fadeless flowers of the Heavenly land - - O heart, sore pierced by the fatal dart-- -O, wounded, suffering, bleeding heart-- -More than all others doomed to miss -The glance, the accent, the smile, the kiss,-- -Nothing is lost that you miss to day-- -Not even the beautiful, death cold clay -But Jesus guards it with watchful eye, -Soon to restore it no more to die, -Clothed in the bloom of immortal life, -The sinless mother, the sainted wife! - - - - -PATIENCE - - -I. - -I saw how the patient Sun - Hasted untiringly -The self-same old race to run; - Never aspiringly -Seeking some other road - Through the blue heaven -Than the one path which God - Long since had given;-- - And I said;--"Patient Sun, - Teach me my race to run, - Even as thine is done, - Steadfastly ever; - Weakly, impatiently - Wandering never!" - - -II. - -I saw how the patient Earth - Sat uncomplainingly, -While, in his boisterous mirth, - Winter disdainingly -Mocked at her steadfast trust, - That, from its icy chain, -Spring her imprisoned dust - Soon would release again;-- - And I said;--"Patient Earth, - Biding thy hour of dearth, - Waiting the voice of mirth - Soon to re-waken, - Teach me like thee to trust, - Steadfast, unshaken!" - - -III. - -I saw how the patient Stream - Hasted unceasingly, -Mindless of shade or gleam, - Onward increasingly,-- -Widening, deepening - Its rocky bed ever, -That it might thus take in - River by river;-- - And I said,--"Patient Stream, - Hasting through shade and gleam, - Careless of noontide beam, - Loitering never, - So teach thou me to press - Onward forever!" - - -IV. - -I saw how the Holiest One - Sat in the Heaven, -Watching each earth-born son - Sin-tossed and driven,-- -Watching war's mad'ning strife-- - Brother 'gainst brother, -Reckless of love and life, - Slaying each other;-- - And I said;--"Patient One, - On thy exalted throne, - Never impatient grown - With our dark sinning, - Though all its depth thou'st known - From the beginning-- - - -V. - -"Though thy fair Earth has been - Blood-dyed for ages, -Though in her valleys green, - Carnage still rages, -Thou, o'er whose brow serene, - Calmest and Holiest! -Angel has never seen, - E'en toward Earth's lowliest, - Shadows impatient sweep - Teach me, like thee, to keep - In my soul, still and deep, - Wavering never, - Patience--a steady light, - Burning forever!" - - - - -A PARTING HYMN. - - -Father in Heaven, to thee, - Guardian and friend, -Lowly the suppliant knee - Here would we bend!-- -Blessing thee ere we part, -Each with a grateful heart, - For all thy love doth send-- -Plenteous and free! - -Thanks for thy hand outspread - Ever in power -O'er each defenceless head - In danger's hour! -Thanks for the light arid love, -From thy full fount above-- - A rich and constant shower, -O'er us still shed! - -Go thou with us, we pray, - Whom duties call -To our high tasks away, - Each one, and all,-- -Go, with thy Spirit's might, -Go, with thy Gospel's light - --Whatever may befall-- -With us alway - -Now let thy blessing rest - On us anew-- -Brother, and friend, and guest, - Tried ones and true-- -Till, all Our pirtings o'er, -Meeting, to part no more, - In Heaven we renew -Friendships so blest - - - - -THE DANCE OF THE WINDS - - -The Wind god, Eolus, sat one morn -In his cavern of tempests, quite forlorn, -He'd been ill of a fever a month and a day, -And the sun had been having things all his own way, -Pouring o'er earth such a torrent of heat -That the meadows were dry as the trampled street, -And people were panting, and ready to die -Of the fire that blazed from the pitiless sky - -But the King felt better that hot June day, -So he said to himself "I will get up a play -Among the children by way of a change, -No doubt they are-feeling, like me, very strange -At this dreary confinement--a month and more, -And never once stirring at all out of door! -It is terribly wearisome keeping so still-- -They all shall go out for a dance on the hill." - -Then aloud he spake, and the dreary hall -Re-echoed hoarsely his hollow call: -"Ho! Boreas, Auster, Eurus, ho! -And you, too, dainty-winged Zephyrus, go -And have a dance on the hills to-day, -And I'll sit here and enjoy your play." - -Then Boreas started with such a roar -That the King, his father, was troubled sore, -And peevishly muttered within himself-- -"He'll burst his throat, the unmannerly elf!" -But Auster, angry at seeing his brother -Astart of him, broke away with another -As fearful a yell from the opposite side -Of the wind-cave, gloomy, and long, and wide. - -One from the South, and one from the North, -The rough-tempered brothers went shrieking forth; -And faster, and faster, and faster still, -They swept o'er valley, and forest, and hill. -The clouds affrighted before them flew, -From white swift changing to black or blue; -But, failing to'scape the assailants' ire, -Fell afoul of each other in conflict dire. - -Now hot, now cold--what a strife was there! -Till the crashing hailstones smote the air, -And men and women in country and town -Were hastily closing their windows down, -And shutting doors with a crash and a bang, -While the raindrops beat, and the hailstones rang, -And the lightnings glared from the fiery eyes -Of the furious combatants up in the skies, -And burst in thunder-claps far and near, -Making the timorous shake with fear. - -Then Eolus with affright grew cold, -For his blood, you'll remember, is thin and old, -And his turbulent sons such an uproar made, -That, watching the conflict, he grew afraid -Lest in the rage of their desperate fight, -The pair should finish each other outright. -So he shouted to Eurus; "Away! away! -Come up from the East by the shortest way, -And try and part them; and you, too, go, -Zephyrus!--why are you loitering so?" - -Then away sped Eurus shrieking so loud -That he startled a lazy, half-slumbering cloud, -That fled before him white in the face, -And dashed away at a furious pace. -But he drove it fiercely betwixt the two, -Who parted, and, scarce knowing what to do, -Descended, and each from an opposite place -Began to fling dirt in the other one's face. - -Then round, and round, and round again, -They raced and chased over valley and plain, -Catching up, in their mischievous whirls, -The hats of boys and the bonnets of girls,-- -Tossing up feathers, and leaves, and sticks, -Knocking down chimneys, and scattering bricks, -Levelling fences and pulling up trees, -Till Eolus--oftentimes hard to please-- -Clapped his hands as his wine he quaffed, -And laughed as he never before had laughed - -Cried Eurus;--"Ho, ho!--so this furious fight -Ends up in a romp and a frolic!--all right-- -I am in for a share!" Then away went he, -And joined with a will in the boisterous glee, -Till, out of breath, ere the sun went down, -They all fell asleep in the forest brown. - -A full hour afterwards, ambling along, -Came dainty Zephyrus humming a song, -And pausing--the truant--to kiss each flower -That blushed in garden, or field, or bower. -But no one was left to be merry with him, -So he danced with the leaves till the light grew dim, -And, as Twilight was going to sleep in the west, -He, too, fell asleep on a rose's breast. - - - - -STRIKE THE CHORDS SOFTLY - - -Strike the chords softly with tremulous fingers, - While, on the threshold of happiest years, -For a brief moment fond memory lingers, - Ere we go forth to life's conflicts and fears! - -Strike the chords softly!--yet no, as we tarry, - Swiftly the morning is gliding away; -Weary ones droop 'neath the burdens they carry, - Toiling ones faint in the heat of the day. - -Let us not linger!--Earth's millions are crying - "Come to us, aid us, we grope in the night! -Come to us, aid us, we're perishing, dying-- - Give us, oh, give us, the heavenly Light!" - -Let us not linger!--our brethren are calling,-- - "Aid us, the harvest increases each day;-- -Some have grown weary, alas, of their toiling!-- - Others have passed from their labors away." - -Gracious Redeemer we go at thy bidding, - Gladly encountering peril and loss; -Take us--ourselves to thy work we are giving, - Giveus--'tis more than we merit--_thy cross!_ - - - - -AT HOME - - -I thought it pleasant when a manly sire -Weary of foreign travel, at the door -Of his own cottage left his dusty staff, -And entering in, sat down with those he loved -Beside the hearth of home;--and pleasant, too, -When a fond mother, absent for a day, -At eve returning, from the sunset hill -That overlooked her cot, descried her boys -Flying with joyous feet along the path -To greet her coming; and, with clasping hands -Of baby welcome, lead her through the gate -Of her sweet home. - - Pleasant I deemed it, too, -When a young man, a wanderer for years -From those he loved, at length sat down again -With sire and mother in the twilight hour -At home;--and when a gentle daughter, long -From mother's kiss and father's blessing far, -Heard once again their ne'er forgotten tones -Giving her joyous welcome home again, -I felt that life had few such joys as that. -And yet, methought there was--canst tell me why-- -Thou, who in Earth alone hast found thy bliss?-- -A higher, sweeter, purer joy than those, -When, free from sin and Earth's encumb'ring cares, -A ransomed soul went home to be with Christ. -I knew a man in life's strong; healthful prime-- -Aye more, the flush of youth was on his brow, -And all his bounding pulses were astir -With the great joy of work for God, while hope-- -Such hope as only Heaven-taught manhood fires -To loftiest ambition--pointed down -The radiant vista of the coming years -To deeds immortal. But the Master called, -And, in mid-race he heard--"Come home, my child!"-- -And paused, and listened in surprise and doubt. - -"Come home my child!" Then, listening, I heard -The pale lips murmur, while the head was bent -In reverent submission--"Oh, so soon?-- -So soon, my Lord? Thou knowest there is much -I fain would do for thee!--thy precious lambs -To gather and to feed--thy sheep to lead -In quiet pastures, and thy name beloved -To herald forth, till Earth's remotest shore -Shall thrill with rapture, and send up to thee -The new-born utterance of love's great joy!" - -"Come home, dear child!"--again the Master's voice-- -And eagerly he flung his robe aside, -Ungirt his loins, and cast his sandals by; -And while he sweetly sang--"I love the Lord!"-- -Entered the peaceful river, and went o'er, -To be forever with the Lord he loved. - -----------------------I knew an aged man, -Yet one scarce bent, with fresh, luxuriant hair -So beautifully white, and clear, blue, loving eyes;-- -We almost worshipped that most princely man -In his pure, patriarchal beauty. But one day -A whisper came to him. It was so low -We heard it not, nor knew till he was gone-- -Gone home! Our sun was set on earth, -Yet risen in Heaven; and through our falling tears -We saw our loved at home, thenceforth to be -Forever with the Lord--Oh, highest bliss-- -Forever with his Lord! - - Our mother slept -At eve in a poor, earthly home. At dawn -She stood upon the golden shore, a sainted one, -A victor crowned. We wept, as well we might, -When we looked down upon those folded hands -Whose tender touch had often thrilled along -Our baby temples,--those pale, patient hands -That toiled for us what time sweet slumber lay -On our young eyelids, and in sunny dreams -We gathered wild flowers on the hill-side green, -Or chased the butterfly 'mid orchard blooms, -While she, till the night waned, toiled bravely on-- -Not for herself, but us, then knelt and prayed -For each young sleeper, ere herself might sleep. - -This morn she slept, and every line that grief -Had ever left on her pale, settled face, -And every furrow care had ever traced -Upon her brow had faded in the calm -Of that blest slumber. Did we softly tread, -And hold our breath suspended, in vague fear -Of breaking the sweet spell, or all too soon -Rousing those tired feet to tread again -Their round of daily toil?--or did we check -Our rising grief, lest one o'er-lab'ring sob -From hearts so full, should banish the sweet smile -Which the glad vision of her Lord's dear face -Had left upon her lips? It may be so,-- -And yet the hour of weeping was not long; -For, 'mid the light by mortal eyes unpierced, -We caught the gleam of her unsullied robe, -And we rejoiced, beholding her _at home_! - - A little babe, a tiny, broken bud, -A snow-white, breathless lamb lay still and cold -Upon its mother's knees. She did not weep-- -She did not pray; but with white, trembling lips -And stony gaze looked down upon her child, -And only moaned in gasping accents--"dead! -My tender babe, my lamb, my own sweet boy!-- -Dead, silent, dead!" - - Then sweet, as borne -O'er silver seas, there came a voice that said, -"_Do not their angels evermore behold -My Father's face in Heaven?_"--and, swift as thought, -Faith overswept the bounds of space, and caught -A glimpse of her beloved on Jesus' breast -Then tears gushed forth--a precious, healing flood-- -And the lips murmured--"Safe, oh, safe at home!-- -My bright boy waits at home, thank God, for me!" - -Then let us ever when the righteous die -Speak of them joyously as gone before; -Not dead, but sweetly drawn within the veil -To the blest home we're nearing--to the house -Of Christ our Elder Brother, mansion fair, -Prepared and set in order by His hand,-- -Their home, and ours to be; forevermore - - - - -SABBATH MEMORIES. - - -I love thee, Sabbath morn!--I cannot say - But 'tis because my father loved thee so,-- - Because my mother's care-worn face would grow -So sweetly placid in thy peaceful ray;-- - -It may be, _that_ is part of what endears - Thee, Sabbath, to my soul; for memory stirs - Old buried thoughts of his voice and of hers-- -Heard never more on Earth--till sudden tears - -So sadly sweet well up, I bid them flow, - They leave a Sabbath in the soul when past; - As when the sky, by April clouds o'ercast, -Shows fairer in the sun's returning glow. - -I see the grass-grown lane we trod of old, - Dear father, sainted mother! while - The Sabbath sun looked down with loving smile, -And touched the hills and streams with rippling gold. - -I hear your voices as ye talked, what time - In childish pride I walked before, and thought - This world a paradise, and Earth full-fraught -With blessedness and love,--a summer clime - -Of changeless beauty!--Ah! those streams flow on, - Blue are those skies, as green the woods, as still - The Sabbath hush that foldeth vale and hill -In sweet embrace, but ye, beloved, are gone! - -She sleeps in stranger dust.--He, old and lone, - Long waited by the river, staff in hand, - Till a voice called him, and he sought that land -Where age takes on fresh youth to change unknown. - -And we are parted, brothers, sisters dear-- - Alas, the band is broken!--One by one - Ye left the hill-side green,--the Sabbath sun -Finds those old paths to-day, forsaken, drear. - -And Mem'ry paints me yet another scene-- - A home, love-lighted by an earnest eye-- - A home, of fellowship so pure, so high. -I pause, and ask myself, have such things been?-- - -Or have I dreamed?--Was it a blessed dream?-- - A dream of peace, and rest, and hallowed calm,-- - The skies all sunshine, and the air all balm,-- -The tranquil hours aglow with Heaven's own beam?-- - -A dream?--a dream?--the long, long, clouded day - That ended in a longer, sadder night, - When, in my home went out that blessed light, -And Love from its hushed chambers passed away? - -O no!--oh no! 'Tis but the old, old tale - Of human bliss and human agony,-- - Of morning's joy-bells ringing full and free,-- -And evening's hollow winds and funeral wail! - -Yet thou art left me, Sabbath! In thy light - I sit and muse, this sweet, June morning, till - The past, with all its varied scenes of good and ill, -Fades from my thought--fades, with the bliss and blight, - -The short-lived transports of those buried years,-- - The summer flowers I gathered with such pains,-- - The gold I hoarded in slow-gathered grains,-- -All lost,--the summer chilled by Autumn's tears,-- - -The long, lone, flowerless autumn--when the sun, - Hurled from his zenith, shivered cold and pale - On the horizon's verge--the funeral wail -O! tempest-burdened winds through forests dim, - -And desolate, and drear,--all pass away - This morn, O Sabbath, in thy hallowed light, - And, glancing far beyond the infinite -Of thy blue heavens, where a clearer day - -Lights the Eternal hills, I seem to see - The Heavenly City, whence the radiant gleam - Of a fair Temple, and a crystal stream -Of living water wanders down to me - -In changeless light! O Home!--O Rest!-O Heaven! - Thus to thy hallowed calm I'd look away, - Sabbath of God!--Eternal Sabbath day! -Till to my soul thy tranquil rest is given. - - - - -THE EYE THAT NEVER SLEEPS - - -When the heavy, midnight shadows - Gather o'er a slumbering world, -And the banner folds of darkness - Are in gloomy pomp unfurled,-- -Think, lone watcher, pale and tearful, - In thy sad, unpitied lot, -By the death couch waking, weeping, - There is One who slumbers not!-- -One who, though no mourning brother - Share thy vigils lone and drear, -Loving, pitying, as no other - Loves or pities, watches near! - -When the waves, o'erwrought by tempest, - Lift their strong arms to the skies, -And amid the inky darkness - Shrieks of winds and waters rise,-- -Mariner, 'mid doubt and danger, - Wildly tossed upon the deep, -Think, o'er all in power presiding - There is One who does not sleep-- -One who holds the risen tempest - In obedience to His will, -Who, to still its wildest fury, - Need but whisper--"Peace, be still" - -When, weighed down by heavy anguish, - Waking, sad, at midnight lone, -Sorrowing mourner, thou dost languish - For affection's missing tone,-- -When thy heart o'er buried treasures - In its uncheered misery weeps, -Think, that gently watching o'er thee, - Is an eye that never sleeps! -And, above the mournful shadows, - Lift thy heart so lone and riven, -Up to Him who 'mid thy sorrows - Wooes thee still to hope and Heaven - - - - -BY AND BY - - _God will not let His bright gifts die -If I may not sing my songs just now - I shall sing them by and by_ - - -A young man with a Poet's soul, - And a Poet's kindling eye-- -Dark, dreamy, full of unvoiced thought-- - And forehead calm and high, -Toiled wearily at his heavy task - Till his soul grew sick with pain, -And the pent up fires that burned within - Seemed withering heart and brain - -"Work, work, work!" he murmured low, - Glancing up at the golden west-- -Work, with the sunset heavens aglow - By the hands of angels dressed, -Work for this perishing, human clay, - While the soul, like a prisoned bird, -Flutters its helpless wings always - By passionate longings stirred - -"I hear in the wandering zephyr's song - Tones that no others hear, -And alien melodies all day long - Are murmuring in my ear,-- -Phantoms of beauty in cloud and flower - Haunt me where'er I stray, -And flit thro' the green of the summer bower, - At the close of each toil spent day - -"There are voices that sigh in the wind's low sigh, - Or wail in the tempest's roar,-- -That sing in the brooklets that wander by, - Or sob along ocean's shore;-- -I hear them ever, yet may not stay, - To list to the rhythmic strain; -And the unvoiced melodies die away, - Never to come again. - -"Something I see in the lightning's flash - That my fellows may not see, -And something hear in the thunder's crash, - That cometh alone to me;-- -But the glory fades ere I gather it in, - And fix it in brain or heart; -And the strains I caught thro' the elements' din, - Are lost in Toil's crowded mart. - -"O haunting strains of unuttered song! - O tenderest melodies lost! -O sweet, stray notes of the heavenly throng - On the wing of the tempest tossed! -O spirit-harp that, untouched, untuned, - To each subtle influence thrills, -As thrills some wild, Aeolian harp, - To the breezes that sweep the hills!-- - -"I thirst, I pant, to be free to list - To the voices that call to me, -From flood and fountain, from vale and height, - From forest, and shore, and sea,-- -To gaze on the Beauty whose subtle fire - Breaks on me thro' Nature's eyes, -And pour from the strings of my unused lyre - All tenderest harmonies!" - -Ah, thirsty spirit! the day will come, - When, the sway of this mortal o'er, -Thou shall strike thy lyre with a fearless hand - On a brighter, calmer shore; -For God, who giveth the breath of Song, - Will not let His bright gifts die; -And though thy harp-strings be silent long, - Thou shalt waken them by and by. - -Aye! and the Music that seemeth lost - Shall linger in Memory's cells, -As lingers along the Alpine heights - The echo of vesper-bells;-- -Not lost, but waiting the freer pulse - Of the life thou yet shalt know, -To blend with the tides of enraptured song - That the Heavenly heights o'erflow. - -And the Beauty that, lost to thee, seemeth now - Sealed in thy heart shall stay, -As the sun-ray sealed in the diamond's heart, - Burns on with unchanging ray, -Then take with gladness the joy that steals - The sting of thy toil away, -And wait in hope for the higher joy - That shall crown thee another day. - - - - -THE ONE REFUGE. - - -I. - - Storms gather o'er thy path, -Christian!--the sullen, tempest-darkened sky -Grows lurid with the elemental wrath,-- - Say, whither wilt thou fly? - -God is my Refuge!--let the tempests come, -They will but speed me sooner to my home! - - -II. - - Night lowers in sullen gloom, -Christian!--a long, dark night awaiteth thee, -Dreary as Egypt's night of fear and doom,-- - Where will thy hiding be? - -God is my refuge!--in the dreary night -In Him I dwell, and have abundant light! - - -III. - - Thine is a lonely way, -Christian!--and dangers all thy path infest; -Pitfalls and snares crowd all thy doubtful way,-- - Where is thy place of rest? - -God is my Refuge!--safe in Him I move, -And feel no fear, kept by sustaining Love. - - -IV. - - The grave--that dreary place, -Christian, the lonely dwelling in the dust -Awaits thee; 'tis the doom of all thy race,-- - Where, then, shall be thy trust? - -God is my refuge! Sweet will be my rest -On the dear pillow that my Saviour pressed! - - -V. - - Alas!--that dreamless sleep-- -Christian, its chains are strong, and hard to break; -All thy belov'd sleep on in silence deep, - And dost _thou_ hope to wake? - -God is my refuge! I shall wake and sing-- -"O grave! where is thy vict'ry?--death thy sting?" - - - - -JUDSON'S GRAVE. - - -He sleeps where the billow - Lifts high its white crest -O'er his lone, sea-weed pillow - On Ocean's dark breast; -No shroud is around him, - No flowers bloom above, -No mourners surround him - With grief-drops of love. - -But the limitless ocean - His requiem sings, -As, with tireless motion, - The green billow springs -Toward the infinite heaven, - Blue, bending above, -Where angels are watching - His slumbers in love. - -Oh! boundless his tomb is, - Far-reaching, sublime, -Stretching forth in immenseness - To every clime; -Thus boundless his love was, - On every side -Spreading freely wherever - Man sorrowed or died. - -Sleep, Judson! no grave-dust - Shall rest on thy head, -In sunlight or starlight - No marble shall shed -Its shadow sepulchral - Above thee,--no tomb -Save Earth's grandest and vastest, - May give to thee room! - -Man marks not thy pillow - With yew-tree or stone; -But God, o'er the billow, - Keeps watch of His own; -And glorious thy rising, - O crowned one, will be, -When Jehovah shall summon - His dead from the sea! - - - - -SHALL BE FREE. - -"ALL PERSON'S HELD AS SLAVES, within said designated States and parts -of States, ARE, AND HENCEFORWARD SHALL BE FREE!" ---_Proclamation of Emancipation, Jan. 1st, 1863._ - - -"Shall be free! shall be free!"--lo, the strong winds have caught it, - And borne it from hill top to hill top afar, -And echo to answering echo has taught it, - Through the din of the conflict, the thunder of war! -It has flashed like the lightning from ocean to ocean, - Across the black face of the skies it has blazed, -And strong men have thrilled with unwonted emotion, - And shouted for joy as they listened and gazed! - -"Shall be free! shall be free!"--the poor, manacled "chattel" - Has caught the sweet word amid fetters and blows; -It has burst on his ear through the tumult of battle, - Through the shoutings of friends and the cursings of foes; -And lifting his poor, fettered hands up to heaven, - He has joined in the song that ascended to God; -Or, kneeling in trembling rapture, has given - Thanksgiving to Him who has broken the rod! - -"Shall be free! shall be free!"--there are ears that have listened, - There are lips that have prayed through long, agonized years, -There are eyes that with hope's fitful radiance have glistened - Yet, as hope was deferred, have grown heavy with tears -Joy! joy!--thou hast heard it at last, lonely weeper, - Look up, for the prayer of thy anguish is heard. -Look up, ye bruised spirits, for God is your keeper, - And the heart of His boundless compassion is stirred. - -"Shall be free! shall be free!"--O Humanity, listen - The Dawn that long since on the pale "Watcher" shone -Now higher, and brighter, and clearer has risen, - As the Day star rides on toward the glories of noon. -Those words that rang out from the isles of the ocean, - Sarmatia has echoed from mountain to sea -And America, from her red field of commotion, - He echoes the same stirring words--"Shall be free!" - -Hark!--all the wild air is astir with the tempest! - The swift lightnings leap in red arrows on high! -Winds shriek to mad winds, and the hoarse thunder answer - As it ploughs its dread path through the shuddering sky! -There are hisses of serpents, and howlings of demons, - And moanings of anguish by land and by sea, -But, clearer than angel tones, high o'er the tumult, - Rings out the glad utterance--"they shall be free!" - -And lo! dimly seen, on the crest of the billow - Lashed white by the storm, undismayed and serene, -Moves that form that once bent o'er the sufferer's pillow, - And touched the dim eyes till strange glories were seen -And sweetly, to ears that will patiently listen, - That voice which spake "peace" to turbulent sea, -Now speaks through the roar of the tempest uprisen, - In tones unmistakable,--"THEY SHALL BE FREE!" - - - - -AFTER FIFTY YEARS - -A MOTHER'S ADDRESS TO HER FAMILY ON HER GOLDEN-WEDDING DAY. - - -Just fifty years, my daughters, - Just fifty years, my son, -Since your sire and I together - The march of life begun. -It does not seem so long ago - As _half a hundred years_, -Since hand in hand we started out, - To face life's toils and tears. - -And toils, and tears, too, we have met; - Yet sunbeams oft have come-- -Many and beautiful, and bright-- - To cheer our happy home; -Sweet infant faces, thro' the years, - Are smiling back to me; -And, God be praised, each precious one - Still at my side I see! - -Yet ye are changed, my children three, - Your baby-bloom is gone; -And you are growing old, I see, - Grey hairs are coming on; -Yet when I, musing, close my eyes, - I see you as you were -In those old years when cloudless skies - Dropped sunshine on your hair. - -The patter of your busy feet - Still rings upon the floor, -And song, and jest, and laughter sweet - Float round me as of yore;-- -Yet when I open eager eyes, - To watch your pastimes gay, -Your children's faces round me rise-- - Yourselves have done with play. - -And there was one--a little one-- - Who slumbered on my breast-- -I loved and cherished as my own, - That dove that sought your nest; -And _she_ is here,--I see her face - Among my own to-day;-- -Thank God for all the loves I trace, - Along life's devious way! - -And yet there's one we miss to-day,-- - The last to quit our side,-- -The one who wandered far away - The day she was a bride. -Were she but here, our chain of love - No missing link would show, -And every face we called our own - Would still around us glow. - -Well, _half a century_ is, I know, - A long, long stretch of time; -And truly once we deemed it so, - When we were in our prime. -But as we've glided down the years - They've shorter seemed to grow, -And now, how brief the time appears - Since fifty years ago! - -And, husband, you and I have changed - Since that old wedding day;-- -I viewed you then with partial eyes-- - "Fond, girlish eyes" you'd say;-- -But were my eyes as keen as then, - And I allowed to scan -The handsomest of handsome men, - _You_ still would be the man. - -_The man of men!_--'twas so I thought - Just fifty years ago, -When you and I joined hands for life; - And yet, I did not know -Half--half as well as I do now, - How dear you were that day; -And ever dearer still you've grown - As years have rolled away! - -And still this fiftieth wedding-day - I have thee by my side-- -An old man, weary, bent, and grey, - My tall tree tempest tried. -And yet I do aver that thou - Art fairer in my sight, -As in thy face I gaze just now, - Than on our wedding night! - -And husband--oh, the best of all, - We'll soon be young again, -And free to tread with buoyant feet - A brighter, holier plain;-- -We'll soon have done with pain and age, - And weariness and strife, -Soon end our earthly pilgrimage - In new, exultant life. - -For you and I, dear, have a home-- - A mansion of our own-- -Where change and blight can never come, - And sorrow is unknown; -And soon we're going to enter in, - And with our Lord sit down,-- -Heirs of His glory and His bliss, - His kingdom and His crown! - -Many we love have thither gone, - And soon we'll be there too,-- -And, children, you will follow on, - We shall look out for you -Oh, may we, in that blessed throng - Of saved ones robed in white, -Not miss a single dear loved face - That smiles on ours to night! - -Just fifty years of wedded life - In the dear past I see, -Before us spreads--not fifty years-- - But all Eternity -And while, 'mid ever deepening bliss, - The tranquil ages glide, -Still, hand in hand and heart in heart, - With Christ we shall abide! - - - - -THE EARTH VOICE AND ITS ANSWER - - - I plucked a fair flower that grew -In the shadow of summer's green trees-- - A rose petalled flower, - Of all in the bower, - Best beloved of the bee and the breeze -I plucked it, and kissed it, and called it my own-- - This beautiful, beautiful flower -That alone in the cool, tender shadow had grown, - Fairest and first in the bower - - Then a murmur I heard at my feet-- - A pensive and sorrowful sound, - And I stooped me to hear, - While tear after tear - Rained down from my eyes to the ground, - As I, listening, heard - This sorrowful word, - So breathing of anguish profound:-- - - "I have gathered the fairest and best, -I have gathered the rarest and sweetest, - My life-blood I've given - As an off'ring to Heaven -In this flower, of all flowers the completest - Through the long, quiet night, - With the pale stars in sight,-- - Through the sun-lighted day - Of the balm-breathing May, -I have toiled on, in silence, to bring - To perfection this beautiful flower, - The pride of the blossoming bower-- -The queenliest blossom of spring. - - "But I am forgotten;--none heed -Me--the brown soil where it grew, - That drank in by day - The sun's blessed ray, -And gathered at twilight the dew;-- - That fed it by night and by day - With nectar drops slowly distilled - In the secret alembic of earth, - And diffused through each delicate vein - Till the sunbeams were charmed to remain, - Entranced in a dream of delight, - Stealing in with their arrows of light - Through the calyx of delicate green, - The close-folded petals between, - Down into its warm hidden heart-- - Until, with an ecstatic start - At the rapture, so wondrous and new, - That throbbed at its innermost heart, - Wide opened the beautiful eyes, - And lo! with a sudden surprise - Caught the glance of the glorious sun-- - The ardent and worshipful one-- - Looking down from his heavenly place, -And the blush of delighted surprise -Remained in its warm glowing dyes, - Evermore on that radiant face - - "Then mortals, in worshipful mood, -Bent over my wonderful flower, - And called it 'the fairest,' - The richest, the rarest, -The pride of the blossoming bower - But I am forgotten. Ah me! - I, the brown soil where it grew, - That cherished and nourished - The stem where it flourished, - And fed it with sunshine and dew - - "O Man! will it always be thus?-- -Will you take the rich gifts that are given - By the tireless workers of earth, - By the bountiful Father in heaven, - And, intent on the worth of the gift, - Never think of the maker, the giver?-- -Of the long patient effort,--the thought - That secretly grew in the brain - Of the Poet to measure and strain, -Till it burst on your ear, richly fraught - With the rapturous sweetness of song?-- - - What availeth it, then, that ye toil, -You, thought's patient producers, to be - Unloved and unprized, - Trodden down and despised -By those whom you toil for, like me-- -Forgotten and trampled like me?--" - -Then my heart made indignant reply, - In spite of my fast falling tears-- - In spite of the wearisome years - Of toil unrequited that lay -In the track of the past, and the way - Thorn-girded I'd trod in those years-- - - "So be it, if so it _must_ be!-- - May I know that the thing - I so patiently bring -From the depths of the heart and the brain, - A creature of _beauty_ goes forth, - Midst the hideous phantoms that press -And crowd the lone paths of this work-weary life, -Midst the labor and care, the temptation and strife, - To gladden and comfort and bless! - - "So be it, if so it _must_ be!-- - May I know that the thing - I so patiently bring -From the depths of the heart and the brain, - Goes forth with a conquerors might, -Through the gloom of this turbulent world, - Potent for truth and for right, -Where truth has so often been hurled - 'Neath the feet of the throng-- - The hurrying, passionate throng!-- - - "What matter though I _be_ forgot, - Since toil is itself a delight?-- - Since the _power_ to do, - To the soul that is true, -Is the uttered command of the Lord - To labor and faint not, but still - To pursue and achieve, - And ever believe. -That ACHIEVEMENT ALONE IS REWARD!" - - - - -BEYOND THE SHADOWS. - - -Thou hast entered the land without shadows, - Thou who, 'neath the shadow, so long -Hast sat with thy white hands close-folded, - And lips that could utter no song; -Through a rift in the cloud, for an instant, - Thine eyes caught a glimpse of that shore, -And Earth with its gloom was forgotten, - And Heaven is thine own evermore! - -We see not the glorious vision, - Nor the welcoming melodies hear, -That, from bowers of beauty Elysian, - Float tenderly sweet to thine ear; -Round us, lie Earth's desolate midnight, - Her winter-plains bare and untrod,-- -Round thee, is the glad, morning sunlight - That beams from the City of God! - -Our eyes have grown heavy with weeping,-- - Thine, "the King in his beauty" behold -And thou leanest thy head on His bosom, - Like him, the beloved, of old; -The days of thy weeping are ended, - Thy sorrow and suffering done, -And angels thy flight have attended - To the side of the Crucified One. - -On thy hearth-stone the ashes are fireless, - In thy dark home the lights never burn, -In thy garden the sweet flowers have perished, - To thy bower no song-birds return! -Yet a mansion of bliss glory-lighted, - Where anguish and death are unknown, -Where beauty and bloom are unblighted, - Henceforth is forever thine own! - -Oh! joy for thee, glorified spirit! - With Jesus forever to be, -And with sinless and sainted companions - The bliss of His Paradise see! -Joy, joy!--for thy warfare is finished, - Thy perilous journeying o'er, -And, above the deep gloom of Earth's shadows, - Thou art dwelling in Light evermore! - - - - -AUTUMN AND WINTER. - - -I. - -Beautiful Autumn is dead and gone-- - Weep for her! -Calm, and gracious, and very fair, -With sunny robe and with shining hair, -And a tender light in her dreamy eye, -She came to earth but to smile and die-- - Weep for her! - -Nay, nay, I will not weep! - She came with a smile, - And tarried awhile, - Quieting Nature to sleep;-- - Then went on her way - O'er the hill-tops grey, -And yet--and yet, _she is dead_, you say! -Nay!--she brought us blessings, and left us cheer, -And alive and well shell return next year!-- - Why should I weep? - - -II. - -Desolate Winter has come again-- - Frown on him! - He comes with a withering breath, - With a gloomy scowl, - With a shriek and a howl, - Freezing Nature to death! - He stamps on the hills, - He fetters the rills, - And every hollow with snow he fills! - Frown on the monster grim and old, - With snowy robes and with fingers cold, - And a gusty breath! - -Nay, nay! I shall give him a smile!-- - For I know by the sleet, - And the snow in the street, - He has come to tarry awhile. -Ho, for the sleigh-bells merrily ringing! -Ho, for the skaters joyously singing-- -Over the ice-fields gliding, swinging!-- -So let the Winter-king whiten the plain! -Fetter the fountains and frost the pane, - His greeting shall be-- - Not a frown from me, - But a smile--a smile! - - - - -TILL TO-MORROW. - - -Good night! good night!--the golden day - Has veiled its sunset beam, -And twilight's star its beauteous ray - Has mirrored in the stream;-- -Low voices come from vale and height, - And murmur soft, good night! good night! - -Good night!--the bee with folded wings - Sleeps sweet in honeyed flowers, -And far away the night-bird sings - In dreamy forest bowers, -And slowly fades the western light - In deepening shade,--good night! good night! - -Good night! good night!--in whispers low - The ling'ring zephyr sighs, -And softly, in its dreamy flow, - The murm'ring brook replies; -And, where yon casement still is bright, - A softer voice has breathed good-night! - -Good night!--as steals the cooling dew - Where the young violet lies, -E'en so may slumber steal anew - To weary human eyes, -And softly steep the aching sight - In dewy rest--good night! good night! - - - - -OUR COUNTRY; ---OR,-- -A CENTURY OF PROGRESS. - - -Over the waves of the Western sea, - Led by the hand of Hope she came-- -The beautiful Angel of Liberty-- - When the sky was red with the sunset's flame,-- -Came to a rocky and surf-beat shore, - Lone, and wintry, and stern, and wild, -The waves behind her, and wastes before, - And the Angel of Liberty, pausing, smiled. - -"Here, O Sister, shall be our rest!" - Softly she sang, and the waters shone -While a mellower radiance flushed the west, - Lingering mountain and vale upon;-- -Sweetly the murmurous melody blent - With flow of rivers and woodland song, -And wandering breezes that singing went, - Joyously wafted the notes along. - -Acadia lifted her mist-wreathed brow, - Westerly gazing with eager eye, -And lakes that sat in the sunset glow - Flashed back upon her in glad reply;-- -On, with every murmuring stream, - On, with every wandering breeze, -Floated the strain through the New World's dream, - Till it died on the far Pacific seas. - - * * * - -Many a season came and went,-- - Many a changeful year sped by,-- -Many a forest its proud head bent,-- - Many a valley looked up to the sky; -Patient Labor and bold Emprise, - Art, Invention, Science, Skill, -Each for each 'neath those northern skies - Toiled together with earnest will. - -Up the mountain, and down the glen, - And far away to the level West, -Hosts of dauntless, unwearied men - Onward ever with firm foot pressed; -The blue axe gleamed in the wintry light, - And forests melted like mist away, -Through virgin soils went the ploughshare bright. - And harvests brightened the summer day. - -Learning gathered around her feet - Listening crowds of aspiring youth; -Meek Religion with accents sweet - Guided her vot'ries in ways o' truth; -Countless church-spires pierced the skies, - Countless temples of Science wooed -To thought's arena of high emprise - An eager, emulous multitude. - -White sails dotted the waters blue, - Hamlets smiled amid valleys green, -Populous cities sprang and grew - Where swamp and wilderness erst were seen; -Fleet as the tempest the iron-steed - Shook the hills with his thunderous tread; -From shore to shore, with the lightning's speed, - Couriers electric man's errands sped. - -Then kindred States that had stood apart - Stretched to each other fraternal hands, -And, each to all, with a loyal heart, - Bound themselves with enduring bands;-- -Then the Angel of Liberty smiled once more, - Softly singing--"O Lands, well done!" -And the strains were wafted from shore to shore - To the far-off climes of the setting sun. - -"Here, O Sister, shall be our rest!" - --Again the beautiful Angel sung-- -Long, oh long, shall these climes be blessed, - Free and fetterless, brave and young, -If only loyal to Him who reigns - Over all nations the Lord Most-High, -Monarch of Heaven's serene domains, - Ruler of all things below the sky. - -"Bow to His service, O young, bright lands! - Give Him the bloom of your joyous youth! -Lift to Him alway adoring hands! - Worship Him ever in love and truth! -So shall ye still, as the glad years rise, - Ever more stable and glorious be, -Heir of all loftiest destinies, - HOPE OF HUMANITY! HOME OF THE FREE!" - - - - -JESUS THE SOULS REST. - -"Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and -_I will give you rest._" - - -I gave myself to Jesus - In my sunny childhood's years, -When on my young, unsullied cheek - There lay no trace of tears; -I little knew what gift I gave, - Nor yet what gift I took; -For life without and life within - Were each a sealed-up book. - -But soon enough unfolding years - Brought sorrow, toil, and pain,-- -Brought disappointment's burning tears, - And yearnings wild and vain; -And then I learned what precious Gift - In Jesus I received -In that still hour of childish trust, - When my young heart believed. - -'Twas then I knew what arm unseen - Was round me 'mid the strife, -The blighted hope, the toil uncheered, - The cold, rude storms of life; -And when the reeds on which I leaned - All failed me one by one, -I clasped my pierced and bleeding hands, - And wept, but _not alone._ - -For He was near me midst the strife, - And, leaning on His arm, -I trod the thorny paths of life, - Safe sheltered from all harm; -The while He whispered to my heart, - "I gave my life for thee! -Then, heavy laden as thou art, - Cast all thy care on me!" - -"_On me!_ ON ME!"--oh, gentle word!-- - O Sympathy divine!-- -O Fount of joy, how deeply stirred, - Within this heart of mine!-- -O cool, sweet Waters, how ye stilled - The fever of my brain,-- -And soothed the heart-strings that had thrilled - With agonizing pain! - -My own,--My Rock!--the heavy tide - May beat in uproar dread, -Calmly 'gainst its unmoving side - I rest my weary head;-- -For well I know how deep it strikes - Beneath the raging flood-- -My Soul's firm Anchor 'mid the strife, - My Refuge and my God! - - - - -THE BEAUTIFUL ARTIST. - - -There's a beautiful Artist abroad in the world, - And her pencil is dipped in heaven,-- -The gorgeous hues of Italian skies, -The radiant sunset's richest dyes, -The light of Aurora's laughing eyes, - Are each to her pictures given. - -As I walked abroad yestere'en, what time - The sunset was fairest to see, -I saw where her wonderful brush had been -Over a maple tree--half of it green-- -And the fairiest col'ring that ever was seen - She had left on that maple tree. - -There was red of every possible hue, - There was yellow of every dye, -From the faintest straw-tint to orange bright, -Fluttering, waving, flashing in light, -With the delicate, green leaves still in sight, - Peeping out at the sunset sky. - -She had touched the beech, and the scraggy thing. - In a bright new suit was dressed; -Very queer, indeed, it looked to me, -The sober old beech tree thus to see, -So different from what he used to be, - Rigged out in a holiday vest. - -Red, and russet, and green, and grey-- - He had little indeed of gold-- -For the beech was never known to be gay, -Being noted a very grave tree alway, -Never flaunting out in a fanciful way - Like other trees, we are told. - -But the beautiful artist had touched him off - With an extra tint or so; -And he held his own very well with the rest, -On which, I am sure, she had done her best, -Dressing each in the fairiest kind of a vest, - Till the forest was all aglow. - -There were the willow that grew by the brook, - And the old oak on the hill; -The graceful elm tree down in the swale, -The birch, the ash, and the bass-wood pale, -The orchard trees clustering over the vale, - And weeds that fringed the rill. - -One, she had gilt with a flood of gold, - And one, she had tipped with flame; -One, she had dashed with every hue -That the laughing sunset ever knew, -And one--she had colored it through and through - Russet, all sober and tame. - -Now this beautiful artist will only stay - A very few days, and then, -She will finish her gorgeous pictures all, -And hurry away ere the gusty squall -Ruins her work, and the sere leaves fail - Darkly in copse and glen. - -Then welcome these pictures, so soon to fade, - While they're fresh, and bright, and new, -For a frosty night, and a gusty day, -And a withering blight are not far away, -So enjoy the beautiful while you may, - It was given, good friend, _for you!_ - - - - -"LET US PRAY" - -[Footnote: A precious memory is associated with these words. The voice -that uttered them is silent now but the solemnity of their utterance -has not passed away. The [below] is a feeble attempt to give it -something like permanency.] - - -Bow the head in supplication, - Lowly, penitent, sincere, -Worthiest of adoration, - God, the Holy One is here!-- -Here, while through the open casement - Gently beams the rising day, -While, in contrite self abasement, - Rev'rently we kneel and pray! - -Let us pray!--we're weak and weary, - Faint of heart and slow of limb, -Over mountains dark and dreary - Lies our pathway--narrow, dim, -Thorn beset and demon-haunted, - Steep and slipp'ry is the way, -Would we tread it all undaunted, - Firm of footstep?--let us pray! - -Let us pray!--on every spirit, - Secret, solemn records lie, -Of transgression and demerit, - On'y seen by God's pure eye,-- -Secret sins, desires unholy, - Thoughts impure that once held sway,-- -Oh, in penitence most lowly, - Deeply contrite, let us pray! - -Let us pray!--we need forgiveness,-- - Strength and patience to endure,-- -For our arduous labors fitness,-- - Spirits consecrate and pure, -Shelter need when storms are round us,-- - Bread of Heavenly life each day,-- -Help when hidden snares surround us,-- - Guidance always--let us pray! - - - - -RICH AND POOR - - - Old Aleck, the weaver, sat in the nook -Of his chimney, reading an ancient book, -Old, and yellow, and sadly worn, -With covers faded, and soiled, and torn;-- -And the tallow candle would flicker and flare -As the wind, which tumbled the old man's hair, -Swept drearily in through a broken pane, -Damp and chilling with sleet and rain. - - Yet still, unheeding the changeful light, -Old Aleck read on and on that night; -Sometimes lifting his eyes, as he read, -To the cob-webb'd rafters overhead;-- -But at length he laid the book away, -And knelt by his broken stool to pray; -And something, I fancied, the old man said -About "_treasures in Heaven_" of which he'd read. - - A wealthy merchant over the way -Sat in his lamp-light's steady ray, -Where many a volume richly bound -And heavily gilded was lying round. -One, with glittering clasps was there, -Embossed, and pictured, and wondrous fair; -But the printed words were the very same -As those I read by the flickering flame -That gave me light as I stooped to look -Into the old man's tattered book, -And I knew by the page's spotless white, -No hand had opened it yet to the light. - - "_Treasures In Heaven_"!--what, rich man, heir -To countless thousands, your thoughts are--where? -With these _he_ read of?--No; ah, no!-- -Over the storm-vexed waters they go, -Where stout ships buffet the blast to-night, -With never a glimmering star in sight! - - Day fretted the east with its stormy gold, -But the turbulent ocean raged and rolled, -And dashed on many a rock girt shore -The wrecks of ships that would sail no more,-- -Lifting, at times, to the topmost wave -Ghastly faces no hand could save,-- -And then, far down with his treasures vain, -Burying each in the depths again. - - And the merchant looked from his mansion fair, -Over the ocean, with troubled air; -And thought of his treasures, in one short night -Whelmed in the deep by the tempest's might;-- -Ah,--I knew by that pale brow's deepening gloom, -That he owned no treasure beyond the tomb. - - Day fretted the east with its stormy gold, -Creeping slow through a casement old, -And stealing sadly with faint, cold ray -Into the hut where the old man lay. -White and still was the scattered hair, -And the hands were crossed with a reverent air;-- -Calm and stirless the eyelids lay, -Pale as marble and cold as clay, -But the lips were tenderly wreathed, the while, -With the beautiful light of a saintly smile; -And I knew he had passed from that desolate room -To a fadeless treasure beyond the tomb. - - - - -PALMER. - -THREE YEARS OLD. - - -A light departed from the hearth of home, - Leaving a shadow where its radiance shone,-- -A flower just bursting into life and bloom, - Lopped from its stem, the bower left sad and lone,-- -A golden link dropped from love's precious chain,-- - Gem from affection's sacred casket riven,-- -Of music's richest tones a missing strain,-- - A bird-note hushed in the blue summer heaven! - -That light is gathered to its Source again, - Though long its radiance will be missed on earth, -That flower, transplanted to a sunnier plain, - Bloometh immortal where no blight has birth; -That missing link gleams in Love's chain above,-- - That lost gem sparkles on the Saviour's breast,-- -That music-uttrance, tuned to holier love, - Swells richly 'mid the anthems of the blest. -Thank God! there's nothing lost! A little while, - And what ye miss will be your own again -E'en the dear clay once more will on you smile - With life immortal throbbing in each vein -Tis well to leave your treasure with the Lord-- - With One so tender your beloved to see,-- -Back to the Source of life a life restored-- - Then _where your treasure is let your affections be!_ - - - - -BALMY MORNING - - -Balmy morning! blessed morning! - Dew-drops bright -All the emerald glade adorning - In thy light-- -In thy golden glowing beam -With an ever-changeful gleam -Flashing sparkling deeply glowing -Varying tints of beauty showing - Everywhere - Radiant are - In thy welcome light! - -Balmy morning! blessed morning! - Flowers look up, -With a precious, pearly off'ring, - In each cup-- -Dewy off'ring gleaned by night, -As a tribute to the light,-- -Far more precious than the gem -Of a monarch's diadem, - Is the gift - Which they lift - To thy welcome light! - -Balmy morning! blessed morning! - Sounds of mirth, -From the vocal vales ascending, - Hail thy birth. -Happy birds in echoing bowers, -Waken all their tuneful powers, -And spontaneous music springs -From all animated things,-- - Verdant hills, - Tuneful rills, - Joyful greet thy light! - -Balmy morning! blessed morning! - How serene, -In thy calm and cloudless dawning - Smiles the scene! -Even man, by care oppressed, -Feels thy gladness thrill his breast, -Hails thee as a source of bliss, -Precious in a world like this, - Gratefully - Blessing thee-- - Welcome, morning light! - - - - -SONG - -Oh, take me where the wild flowers bloom! - - -Oh, take me where the wild flowers bloom! - I'm dying, mother dear! -And shades of ever deepening gloom - Are round, and o'er me here,-- -The city's din is in my ear, - Its glitter mocks my eye,-- -Oh, take me where the skies are clear. - And the hills are green, to die! - -I do not dread the shadowy vale, - The river deep and chill,-- -For, leaning on my Saviour's arm, - My soul shall fear no ill,-- -But oh, to pass from Earth away - Where skies are blue above, -Where glad birds sing, and streamlets play, - And soft winds breathe of love! - -And oh, within these fevered hands, - To clasp my flowers again! -To lay them on my weary breast, - And round my throbbing brain! -Then, feel the South wind o'er me pass - As long ago it swept, -When, 'mid the scented summer grass, - I laid me down and slept! - -Oh, ever, in my fevered dreams, - The fountain's play I hear,-- -The sighing winds, the rippling streams, - The robin's music clear,-- -Old pleasant sounds are in my ear, - Sweet visions meet my eye-- -Oh take me, take me, mother dear, - To the summer hills, to die! - - - - -THE PLOUGHMAN - - -Tearing up the stubborn soil, - Trudging, drudging, toiling, moiling, - Hands, and feet, and garments soiling-- -Who would grudge the ploughman's toil? - Yet there's lustre in his eye, - Borrowed from yon glowing sky, - And there's meaning in his glances - That bespeak no dreamer's fancies; - For his mind has precious lore - Gleaned from Nature's sacred store. - -Toiling up yon weary hill, - He has worked since early morning, - Ease, and rest, and pleasure scorning, -And he's at his labor still, - Though the slanting, western beam - Quivering on the glassy stream, - And yon old elm's lengthened shadow - Flung athwart the verdant meadow, - Tell that shadowy twilight grey - Cannot now be far away. - -See! he stops and wipes his brow,-- - Marks the rapid sun's descending-- - Marks his shadow far-extending-- -Deems it time to quit the plough. - Weary man and weary steed - Welcome food and respite need - 'Tis the hour when bird and bee - Seek repose, and why not he? - Nature loves the twilight blest, - Let the toil worn ploughman rest - -Ye, who nursed upon the breast - Of ease and pleasure enervating, - Ever new delights creating, -Which not long retain their zest - Ere upon your taste they pall, - What avail your pleasures all? - In his hard, but pleasant labor, - He, your useful, healthful neighbor, - Finds enjoyment, real, true, - Vainly sought by such as you - -Nature's open volume lies, - Richly tinted, brightly beaming, - With its varied lessons teeming, -All outspread before his eyes. - Dewy glades and opening flowers, - Emerald meadows, vernal bowers, - Sun and shade, and bird and bee, - Fount and forest, hill and lea,-- - All things beautiful and fair, - His benignant teachers are - -Tearing up the stubborn soil, - Trudging, drudging, toiling, moiling, - Hands, and feet, and garments soiling-- -Who would grudge the ploughman's toil? - Yet 'tis health and wealth to him, - Strength of nerve, and strength of limb, - Light and fervor in his glances, - Life and beauty in his fancies, - Learned and happy, brave and free, - Who so proud and blest as he? - - - - -"HE HATH DONE ALL THINGS WELL." - -AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED TO A DEAR FRIEND ON THE DEATH OF -A BELOVED FATHER. - - -The dawn-light wakes, and brightens to the day, - And the slow sun climbs the far eastern skies, -Then, down the western slopes pursues his way, - Till shadows deepen and the twilight dies;-- -And still I muse, and wait, and list in vain - For feet that never, never will return,-- -For loving words I may not hear again, - Howe'er with ear attent I wait and yearn. - -O love that never wavered, never changed! - How shall I miss thee as the years go by? -O tenderest heart that could be estranged!-- - O fount that age and suffring could not dry!-- -O guiding hand to earliest thought endeared-- - O hand that after clung so long to me!-- -O patient Father, honored, loved, revered! - How shall I hear life's burden wanting thee? - -Be still, fond heart!--another Father, thine-- - Both _his_ and thine--still on thee bends His eye; -Thou canst not walk alone, for Love Divine, - Unseen, yet near, each starting tear will dry. -Lean on the strong, true breast, of Love more deep, - More constant far than earthly love may be, -Who gently soothed his pain, and gave him sleep, - And shall enfold, uplift, and comfort thee! - -So lay thy burden in His hands, and rest! - Thy Lord hath fathomed every earthly woe; -With patient feet Earth's thorniest pathway pressed, - And left the tomb with Heaven's light aglow;-- -For, what them seest not now, some other day, - In lands unreached by sorrow's dreary knell, -Thou in His light shalt read, and meekly say, - "E'en so, dear Lord, Thou hast done all things well." - - - - -SOMEWHERE - -"For he looked for a city that hath foundations, whose Maker and -Builder is God." - - -I. - -Somewhere, I know, there waits for me - A home that mocks the pomp of Earth, -Eye hath not seen its majesty, - Nor heart conceived its priceless worth,-- -Talk not of crystal, gems, or gold, - Or towers that flame in changeless light, -Imagination, weak and cold, - Faints far below the unmeasured height! -And through its open doors for aye, - As ages after ages glide, -Without a moment's pause or stay, - Flows grandly in the living tide-- -Brothers, redeemed ones, pressing home - From every clime, from every shore, -Beneath that fair celestial dome - Meet to be parted nevermore! - - -II. - -Somewhere, I know, there waits for me - A holy, tranquillized repose, -Calmer than summer noontides be, - Softer than twilight's tenderest close-- -Peace, deeper than the peace that stole - O'er the vexed Galilean flood, -When One, Almighty to control, - Breathed o'er it the still "peace" of God. -To break that calm, no throbbing pain - May ever come, no chilling fears, -No hopes unreached, no yearnings vain, - No love-light quenched in sorrow's tears; -But, while eternal ages glide, - That hallowed peace without alloy -Shall still increase, and still abide, - A deepening fount of holiest joy. - - -III. - -Somewhere, I know, there wait for me - Sweet tones that wander back betimes -Through the charmed gates of Memory, - Like far-off swell of Sabbath chimes; -And fair, sweet faces, dimly seen - In the uncertain light of dreams, -And glances, tender and serene - As star-beams mirrored soft in streams;-- -They wait for me who long have missed, - From the lone paths I since have pressed, -The hands I clasped, the lips I kissed, - The loves that life's young morning blessed,-- -Wait long, while still, through mist and tears - I darkly wend my pilgrim way, -Until for me the dawn appears - And night gives place to perfect day - - -IV. - -Somewhere, I know, in brighter lands, - ONE waits--"the Fairest of the Fair"-- -With loving words and gentle hands, - To welcome all who gather there. -"Father, I will," we heard Him say, - "That those whom thou hast given me -Be with me where I am, that they - My glory evermore may see!" -And there, without a veil between, - The sweetness of His face to hide, -Him whom I've loved yet never seen, - I shall behold well satisfied-- -And, viewing Him, shall sweetly be - Transformed into His image bright, -And through a glad Eternity - Walk in His love's unclouded light! - - - - -THE TIDE. - - -Landward the tide setteth buoyantly breezily,-- - Landward the waves ripple sparkling and free,-- -Ho, the proud ship, like a thing of life, easily, - Gracefully sweeps o'er the white-crested sea! -In from the far-away lands she is steering now, - Straight for her anchorage, fearless and free,-- -Lo, as I gaze, how she seems to be nearing now, - Sun-lighted shores, a still haven, _and me_! - -Landward the tide setteth!--mark my proud argosy - As the breeze flutters her pennons of snow, -Wafting from far the glad mariner's melody - O'er the blue waters in rhythmical flow! -Tell me, oh, soul of mine, what is the freightage fair - 'Neath her white wings that she beareth to thee? -Treasures of golden ore, gems from Golconda's shore, - Lo, she is bringing me over, the sea! - - * * * * * - -Seaward the tide setteth hoarsely and heavily,-- - Seaward the tide setteth steady and stern;-- -Oh, my proud ship!--she has missed the still haven! see, - Baffled and drifting, far out she is borne!-- -Far from the shore, and the weak arms that helplessly, - Wildly, are stretched toward the lessening sail!-- -Far, far from shore, and the white hands that hopelessly - Flutter in vain in the loud shrieking gale! - -Seaward the tide setteth--oh my rich argosy, - Freighted with treasures ungrasped and unwon!-- -Oh, the dark rocks!--the dread crash!--the fierce agony!-- - And seaward more madly the tide rushes on! -Gems and red gold won from Earth's richest treasury - Straw the dark floor of the pitiless sea, -Buried for aye--and my wealth-freighted argosy - Fades like the mist from the ocean _and me_! - - - - -ELOISE. - - - Eloise! Eloise! - It is morn on the seas, -And the waters are curling and flashing; - And our rock-sheltered seat, - Where the waves ever beat -With a cadenced and rhythmical dashing, - Is here--just here, - But I miss thee, dear! -And the sun-beams around me are flashing - O seat, by the lonely sea, - O seat, that she shared with me, - Thou art all unfilled to day! - And the plaintive, grieving main - Hath a moan of hopeless pain - That it had not yesterday. - - Eloise! Eloise! - It is noon; and the breeze -Through the shadowy woodland is straying; - And our green, mossy seat, - Where the flowers kissed thy feet -While the zephyrs around thee were playing, - Is here--just here; - But I miss thee, dear! -And the breezes around me are straying. - O seat, by the greenwood tree, - O seat, that she shared with me, - Thou art all unfilled to-day! - And the sighing, shivering leaves - Have a voice like one that grieves - That they had not yesterday. - - Eloise! Eloise! - It is eve; and the trees -With the gold of the sunset are glowing; - And our low, grassy seat, - With the brook at its feet -Ever singing, and rippling, and flowing, - Is here--just here; - But I miss thee, dear! -And the sunset is over me glowing. - O seat, by the brooklet free, - O seat, that she shared with me, - Thou art all unfilled to-day! - And the brook, to me alone, - Hath a tender, grieving tone, - That it had not yesterday. - - Eloise! Eloise! - It is night on the seas, -And the winds and the waters are sleeping; - And the seat where we prayed, - 'Neath our home's blessed shade, -With the soft shadows over us creeping, - Is here-just here; - But I miss thee, dear! -And the drear night around me is sleeping. - O seat, where she prayed of yore, - O seat, where she prays no more, - I am kneeling alone to-night! - And the stern, unyielding grave - Will restore not the gift I gave - To its bosom yesternight. - - - - -ABRAHAM LINCOLN. - - - No martyr-blood hath ever flowed in vain!-- -No patriot bled, that proved not freedom's gain! -Those tones, which despots heard with fear and dread -From living lips, ring sterner from the dead; -And he who dies, lives, oft, more truly so -Than had he never felt the untimely blow. - - And so with him thus, in an instant, hurled -From earthly hopes and converse with the world. -Each trickling blood-drop shall, with sudden power -Achieve the work of years in one short hour, -And his faint death-sigh more strong arms unite -In stern defence of Freedom and of Right, -Than all he could have said by word or pen, -In a whole life of threescore years and ten! - - Dead! fell assassin! did you think him _dead_, -When, with unmurmuring lips, he bowed his head, -While round him bent pale, stricken-hearted men? -Never more grandly did he live than then! -Never that voice had such unmeasured power -To fire men's souls, as in that solemn hour, -When, on a startled world's affrighted ear, -"_E'er so with tyrants!_" rang out wildly clear. -And the red bolt that pierced his quiv'ring brain -Maddened a million hearts with burning pain! - - Dead?--frenzied demon of the lash and whip, -What time you let your dogs of ruin slip -At his unguarded throat with raurd'rous cry, -And passion-howl of rage and agony?-- -Nay:--in that deathful hour, from shore to shore, -Men heard his voice who never heard before; -And, pale with horror by his bloody clay, -Vowed from that hour his mandate to obey,-- -Nor rest till all your fiends of Crime and Lust, -'Neath Freedom's heel, lie weltering in the dust! - - Dead? dead?--Nay!--'tis not thus that good men _die_! -Tis thus they win fame's immortality! -Thus does their every utt'rance grow sublime,-- -A voice of power,--a watchword for all time!-- -And the dead arm a mightier scepter sways, -Than his, who, living, half a world obeys! - - Sleep, uncorrupted Patriot! faithful one! -Friend of the friendless! Freedom's martyred son! -Henceforth no land shall call thee all its own,-- -The World, Humanity, the bruised and lone,-- -The oppressed and burdened ones of every clime -Shall claim thee theirs, and bless thee thro' all time, -And "_are, and shall be free!_" from shore to shore -Speed grandly on till serfdom is no more, -And gentle brotherhood our sorrowing race -Link man to man in warm and true embrace! - - - - -GOD'S BLESSINGS. - -"For thou, Lord, wilt bless the righteous; with favour wilt thou -compass him as with a shield." - - -Like the dew-drops that fall - Through the chill, midnight hours, -Unheeded by all, - On the close-folded flowers,-- -E'en so, on thy chosen, - Grief stricken that bend, -Thy tenderest blessings - In silence descend. - -Like the showers that moisten - The tree's shrivelled root, -And quicken its branches - To flower and fruit, -E'en thus, on thy people - Descend from above, -In richest abundance - The showers of thy love - -Like the glad light that never - Our sad Earth forsakes, -But, as day fadeth, ever - In the star beam awakes, -So certain and constant, - So rich and unspent, -Thy blessings unstinted - From Heaven are sent. - -Like the waters that fail not - Their course to fulfil, -Like the wind's tireless pinions - That never are still, -Like the day in its rising, - The night in its fall, -Thus constant thy blessing, - Great Father of all! - - - - -THE SILENT MESSENGER - - -I sat beside a bed of pain, - And all the muffled hours were still; -The breeze that bent the summer grain, - Scarce sighed along the pine-clad hill; -The pensive stars, the silvery moon - Seemed sleeping in a sea of calm. -And all the leafy bowers of June - Were steeped in midnight's dewy balm. - -She seemed to sleep, for lull of pain - Had calmed the fevered pulse a while, -But, as I watched, she woke again, - With wondering glance and eager smile. -The pale lips moved as if to speak, - The thin hand trembled in my own, -Then, with a sigh for words too weak, - The eyelids closed, and she was gone. - -Gone! gone!--but where, or how, or when? - I had not seen or form or face; -Unmarked God's messenger had been - Beside me in that sacred place-- -No sound of footsteps as he came, - No gleam of glory as he went, -Swift as the lightning's arrowy flame, - Still as the dew the flowers that bent. - -Yet she had heard the coming feet, - Had seen the glory of that face, -And, with unuttered raptures sweet, - Had sprung to welcome his embrace -As the swift arrow leaves the string,-- - As the glad lark ascends the sky;-- -And 'neath that soft o'ershadowing wing, - Swept past the radiant spheres on high. - -O track of light! O car of flame! - The calm sky bears no trace of you; -The tranquil orbs sleep on the same, - In heaven's unclouded fields of blue; -And yet, upon this placid clay, - There lingers still that radiance blest,-- -Sweet token that her untracked way - Led up to bowers of heavenly rest! - - - - -UNDER THE SNOW - - - Over the mountains, under the snow -Lieth a valley cold and low, -'Neath a white, immovable pall, -Desolate, dreary, soulless all, -And soundless, save when the wintry blast -Sweeps with funeral music past. - - Yet was that valley not always so, -For I trod its summer-paths long ago; -And I gathered flowers of fairest dyes -Where now the snow-drift heaviest lies; -And I drank from rills that, with murmurous song, -Wandered in golden light along -Through bowers, whose ever-fragrant air -Was heavy with perfume of flowrets fair,-- -Through cool, green meadows where, all day long, -The wild bee droned his voluptuous song; -While over all shone the eye of Love -In the violet-tinted heavens above. - - And through that valley ran veins of gold, -And the rivers o'er beds of amber rolled;-- -There were pearls in the white sands thickly sown, -And rocks that diamond-crusted shone;-- -All richest fruitage, all rarest flowers, -All sweetest music of summer-bowers, -All sounds the softest, all sights most fair, -Made Earth a paradise everywhere. - - Over the mountains, under the snow -Lieth that valley cold and low; -There came no slowly-consuming blight, -But the snow swept silently down at night, -And when the morning looked forth again, -The seal of silence was on the plain; -And fount and forest, and bower and stream, -Were shrouded all from his pallid beam. - - And there, deep-hidden under the snow, -Is buried the wealth of the long-ago-- -Pearls and diamonds, veins of gold, -Priceless treasures of worth untold, -Harps of wonderful sweetness stilled -While yet the air was with music filled,-- -Hands that stirred the resounding string -To melodies such as the angels sing,-- -Faces radiant with smile and tear -That bent enraptured the strains to hear,-- -And high, calm foreheads, and earnest eyes -That came and went beneath sunset skies. - - There they are lying under the snow, -And the winds moan over them sad and low. -Pale, still faces that smile no more, -Calm, dosed eyelids whose light is o'er, -Silent lips that will never again, -Move to music's entrancing strain, -White hands folded o'er marble breasts, -Each under the mantling snow-drift rests; -And the wind their requiem sounds o'er and o'er, -In the oft-repeated "no more--_no more_" - - "No more--no more!" I shall ever hear -That funeral dirge in its meanings drear, -But I may not linger with faltering tread -Anear my treasures--anear my dead. -On, through many a thorny maze, -Up slippery rocks, and through tangled ways, -Lieth my cloud-mantled path, afar -From that buried vale where my treasures are. - - But there bursts a light through the heavy gloom, -From the sun-bright towers of my distant home; -And fainter the wail of the sad "no more" -Is heard as slowly I near that shore; -And sweet home-voices come soft and low, -Half drowning that requiem's dirge-like flow. - - I know it is Sorrow's baptism stern -That hath given me thus for my home to yearn,-- -That has quickened my ear to the tender call -That down from the jasper heights doth fall,-- -And lifted my soul from the songs of Earth -To music of higher and holier birth, -Turning the tide of a yearning love -To the beautiful things that are found above;-- -And I bless my Father, through blinding tears, -For the chastening love of departed years,-- -For hiding my idols so low--_so low_-- -Over the mountains, under the snow. - - - - -LONGINGS - - -Sleep, gentle, mysterious healer, - Come down with thy balm-cup to me! -Come down, O thou mystic revealer - Of glories the day may not see! -For dark is the cloud that is o'er me, - And heavy the shadows that fall, -And lone is the pathway before me, - And far-off the voice that doth call-- - Faintly, yet tenderly ever, - From over the dark river, call. - -Let me bask for an hour in the sun-ray - That wraps him forever in light; -Awhile tread his flowery pathway - Through bowers of unfailing delight;-- -Again clasp the hands I lost sight of - In the chill mist that hung o'er the tide, -What time, with the pale, silent boatman, - I saw him away from me glide-- - Out into the fathomless myst'ry, - All silent and tranquillized, glide! - -Let me look in those eyes so much brighter - For the years they have gazed on the Son,-- -On that pure brow grown purer and whiter - In the smile of God's glorified One;-- -Let me rest for a while with closed eyelids, - On the bank of Life's river, to hear -The song he has learned since he left me, - Breathed tenderly sweet in my ear-- - The song he has learned of the angels - And saved ones, breathed soft in my ear! - -_Thou canst not?_--what! hast thou not entered - The gates of yon city of light?-- -Not walked in the flower-bordered pathway - Of the saved ones in raiment of white?-- -Never stood on the bank of Life's River, - Where gather the glorified throng? -Or glowed with emotion ecstatic - 'Neath the swell of their rapturous song-- - That song _he_ has learned since he left me, - The redeemed ones' exultant, _new_ song? - -O Saviour, the wounded heart's Healer! - I turn from my sorrow to thee, -The gracious and tender Revealer - Of glories thy ransomed shall see! -They will pass--the dark cloud that is o'er me, - The shadows that darken my sky, -And the desolate pathway before me - Will lead to thy mansions on high;-- - And with _him I shall rest in thy presence, - Forever and ever on high! - - - - -FOUNT OF BLISS - -"Yea I have loved thee with an everlasting love." - - -Love of God!--amazing love! -Height, above all other height, -Depth no creature thought can prove, -Boundless, endless, infinite! -Howsoe'er I sink or rise, -Stretch my powers beyond, abroad, -Pierce the depths or climb the skies, -Find I still the love of God-- -_Fount of bliss, exhaustless, free, -Evermore unsealed for me!_ - -Love of Christ!--amazing love! -Vast as His eternity; -Theme of angel-tongues above, -Theme of souls redeemed like me! -Outward to creation's bound, -Up to Heaven's serenest height, -Universal space around, -Swells the chorus day and night-- -_Fount of bliss, exhaustless, free, -Evermore unsealed for me!_ - -Oh, these tongues that falter so -When we sing of love like this! -Oh, these songs that, faint and low, -More than half their sweetness miss! -Saviour, lift our music higher -Till the notes to rapture spring! -Touch our lips with hallowed fire -From thine altar while we sing-- -_Fount of bliss, exhaustless, free, -Evermore unsealed for me!_ - - - - -AWAY TO THE HILLS - -A HOLIDAY SONG. - - - Away to the hills, away!-- - There is health in the summer air;-- - The rustling bough, and the bending spray, - And the breath of flowers are there-- -The honey-bee's hum and the wild bird's song, -And sunshine and summer winds all day long! - - Away to the hills, away! - There are peace and calmness there-- - White cloudlets floating in light all day - Through the blue transparent air,-- -Rose-tinted mornings and noontides rare, -And sunsets of crimson and gold are there! - - Away to the hills, away! - From your weariness and care-- - From toil that has held on with tyrant sway, - To quiet and calmness there; -And bask in the beauty and bloom that fills -The cool, sweet depths of the summer hills! - - - - -FLOWERS BY A GRAVE - - -Alien blossoms! tell me why - Seek ye such a lonely place, -Thus to bloom, and droop, and die - Far away from all your race? - -Wherefore, from the sunny bowers - Where your beauteous kindred bloom, -Have ye come, O banished flowers! - Thus to decorate a tomb? - -"Mortal, dost thou question why - Thus beside the grave we bloom? -Why we hither come to die, - Aliens from our garden-home? - -"'Twas Affection's gentle hand - Placed us thus her dead so near;-- -Tis at weeping Love's command - That we breathe our fragrance here. - -"Ask not why we wither here, - Thou who ne'er hast tasted woe, -Who hast never felt the tear - Of bereaved affection flow,-- - -"Ask not, till thy household band - By death's cruel stroke is riven, -Till some bright bird'scapes thy hand-- - _Then_ thy answer will be given!" - - - - -"THREE FOR THREE." - - -"Giving up three for one!"--mother, - You said in the long ago, -When father, yourself, and John, mother, - I left, o'er the deep to go. -"Giving up three for one!"--mother, - You said, and it sank in my heart; -For tho' strong was my love for the one, mother, - It was hard from the three to part. - -But to-day, as I sit alone, mother, - Rocking my little one's bed-- -(Not Winnie's bed, dear, but her brother's--) - I am thinking of what you said; -And a sweet thought glads my heart, mother-- - Can you guess what the thought can be? -'Tis, that tho' I'd but one in the start, mother, - Yet now I have _three_ for three. - -Yes, three for three, my mother, - God is good to your wandering child, -So far from her father and brother, - And you, in this western wild! -And tho' her heart oftentimes yearneth - For its loved ones over the sea, -Yet ever it gratefully turneth - To its home-ties--_three_ for three. - -Aye, three for three, sweet mother, - Say, am I not happy to-day? -Tho' something must ever be wanting, - While far from you all away;-- -Then thank the dear Lord, my mother, - Who, afar o'er the lonely sea, -Is blessing your absent daughter, - With home ties--_three_ for three! - - - - -NOW. - -"Now is the accepted time." - - - Now, sinner, now! -Not in the future, when thy longed-for measure -Thou hast attained, of fame, or power, or pleasure, -When thy full coffers swell with hoarded treasure, - Not then, but now. -God's time may not be thine. When _thou_ art willing, -His Spirit may have taken flight forever, -No more thy soul with keen conviction filling, -Softening thy spirit to repentance never,-- - Now, sinner, now! - - Now, Christian, now! -Look round, and see what souls are daily dying; -List!--everywhere the voice of human crying -Smiteth the ear;--the moan, the plaint, the sighing, - Come even now. -Rise! gird thyself;--go forth where sorrow weepeth -And ease the pang. Where sin holds guilty revel, -Go tell of God! Where man securely sleepeth -On ruin's verge, go, warn him of the evil - Now, Christian, now! - - Now, sinner, now! -Day waneth fast! The noon is spent! To-morrow -Is God's, not thine!--and dost thou hope to borrow -An hour from doom, when bursts the cloud of sorrow - That darkens now? -Nay; the red bolt, e'en now, vindictive flashes -The thunder rolls nearer, and still more near! -Hourly the tide of wrath more sternly dashes -On ruin's rocks!--oh, that thou wouldst but - Now, sinner, now! - - Now, Christian, now -Gather thy sheaves--the harvest time is hasting -Gather thy sheaves--the precious grain is wasting! -Too many hours Earth's cup of nectar tasting - Thou'st wasted now! -Up, up!--the Master's coining steps already -Echoing adown the steeps of heaven are heard! -The angel-reapers, with firm hand and steady, -Stand, dim-descried, waiting the signal-word - Now, Christian, now! - - - - -SUNSET - - -The glorious sun, behind the western hills, - Slowly, in gorgeous majesty, retires, -Flooding the founts and forests, fields and rills, - With the reflection of his golden fires. -How beauteous all, how calm, how still! -Yon star that trembles on the hill, -Yon crescent moon that raises high -Her beamy horns upon the sky, - Seem bending down a loving glance - From the unclouded skies, - On the green Earth that far away - In solemn beauty lies;-- -And, like sweet Friendship in affliction's hour, -Grow brighter still the more the shadows lower. - - - - -SWEET EVENING BELLS - - -Soft evening bells!--sweet evening bells! -O'er vale and plain your music swells, - And far away - The echoes play -O'er shaggy mount and forest grey; - And every rock its secret tells - To your soft chime, sweet evening bells! - -Soft evening bells!--sweet evening bells! -Now twilight drapes the woodland dells, - And shadows lie - On the closed eye -Of flowers that dream beneath the sky; - Yet fainter, sweeter, tenderer swells - Your dying chime, sweet evening bells! - -O evening bells!--sweet evening bells! -With every note that sinks and swells, - Sadly and slow - The warm tears flow -In pensive pleasure more than woe, - As Mem'ry wakes her witching spells, -'Neath your soft chime, sweet evening bells! - - - - -UNKNOWN - - -Thou hast marked the lonely river, - On whose waveless bosom lay -Some deep mountain-shadow ever, - Dark'ning e'en the ripples' play-- -Didst thou deem it had no murmur - Of soft music, though unheard? -Deem that, 'neath the quiet surface, - The calm waters never stirred? - -Thou hast marked the pensive forest, - Where the moonbeams slept by night, -While the elm and drooping willow - Sorrowed in the misty light-- -Didst thou think those depths so silent - Held no fount of tender song -That awoke to hallowed utt'rance - As the hushed hours swept along? - -So, the heart hath much of music, - Deep within its fountains lone, -Very passionate and tender, - Never shaped to human tone! -Dream not that its depths are silent, - Though thou ne'er hast stooped to hear; -Haply, even thence some music - Floats to the All-Hearing ear! - - - - -ONWARD - - -Onward, still on!--though the pathway be dreary,-- - Though few be the fountains that gladden the way,-- -Though the tired spirit grow feeble and weary, - And droop in the heat of the toil-burdened day; -Green in the distance the hills of thy Canaan - Lift their bright heads in a tenderer light, -Where the full boughs with rich fruits overladen - Spread their luxurious treasures in sight. - -Onward, still onward!--around us are falling - Lengthening shadows as daylight departs; -Up from the past mournful voices are calling, - Often we pause with irresolute hearts. -Wherefore look backward?--the flower thou didst gather - Wounded thy hand with the thorn it concealed,-- -Onward, and stay not!--the voice of thy Father - Calls thee to glory and bliss unrevealed. - -Onward!-Earth's radiance fadeth,--the glory - That gilded her brow when the noon was in prime -Faileth each hour, and the chill mist is hoary! - Gathering thick on the dim shores of time. -Yet as the stars come out brighter and clearer - While the day faints in the slow-fading west, -So do the home-lights grow larger and nearer, - Clearer the ray on the hills of thy rest. - -Onward, and stay not!--the fountain, the flower, - Toward which thou'rt pressing with wearying haste. -Are but the mirage that floats for an hour, - Glowing and green o'er the desolate waste; -Yet from the distance come tender home-melodies - Borne from the Summer-land over the flood, -Lovingly wooing thee homeward and Heavenward - To the sweet rest of thy Saviour and God. - - - - -LOOKING BACK - - -Do the dancing leaves of summer - To the time of buds look back?-- -Does the river moan regretful - For the brooklet's mountain-track? -Does the ripened sheaf of summer, - Heavy with precious grain, -Ask for its hour of blossom, - And the breath of Spring again? - -Does the golden goblet, brimming - With the precious, ruby wine, -Look back with weary longing - To the damp and dusky mine? -Is the sparkling coin, that beareth - A monarch's image, fain -To seek the glowing furnace, - Where they purged its dross again? - -Would the chiselled marble gather - Its rubbish back once more. -And lie down, undistinguished, - In the rough rock as before? -Does the costly diamond, blazing - On that crowned and queenly one, -Look back with sorrowful gazing - To the coarse unpolished stone? - -And shall man, the grandly gifted, - Earth's monarch, tho' Earth's son, -Turn back to court the shadows - Of existence scarce begun? -Nay; with strong arm and helpful - To aid the world's great lack, -Press on, nor pause a moment, - Supinely to look back! - - - - -MINNIEBEL - - -Where the willow weepeth - By a fountain lone,-- -Where the ivy creepeth - O'er a mossy stone,-- -With pale flowers above her, - In a quiet dell. -Far from those who love her, - Slumbers Minniebel. - -There thy bed I made thee, - By that fountain side, -And in anguish laid thee - Down to rest, my bride! -Tenderest and fairest, - Who thy worth may tell! -Flower of beauty rarest, - Saintly Minniebel! - -Weary years have borrowed - From my eye its light, -Time my cheek has furrowed, - And these locks are white; -But my heart will ever - Mid its memories dwell, -Fondly thine forever, - Angel Minniebel! - - - - -WEARY. - - -Weary of dreaming what never comes true, -Weary of thinking what never is new, -Of endeav'ring, yet never succeeding to do. - -Weary of walking the dusty, old ways, -Weary of saying what every one says, -Weary of singing old, obsolete lays. - -Weary of laughing, to make others laugh, -Weary of gleaning for nothing but chaff, -Of giving the whole, and receiving but half. - -Weary of making, so shortly to mend, -Weary of patching, to turn round and rend, -Weary of earning only to spend. - -Weary of weeping when tears are so cheap, -Weary of waking when longing to sleep, -Of giving what nobody wishes to keep. - -Weary of drinking to thirst ere I've done, -Weary of eating what satisfies none, -Weary of doing what still is undone. - -Weary of glitter without any gold, -Weary of ashes grown fireless and cold, -Weary!--the half of it cannot be told! - - - - -THE BODY TO THE SOUL - -RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED TO AN OVERWORKED STUDENT. - - - O tyrant soul of mine, - What's the use -Of this never-ceasing toil, -Of this struggle, this turmoil, - This abuse -Of the body and the brain, -Of this labor and this pain, -Of this never-ceasing strain -On the cords that bind us twain - Each to each? - - O tyrant soul of mine, - Is it well -Thus to waste and wear away -The poor, fragile walls of clay - Where you dwell? -Was I made your slave to be-- -I the abject, you the free, -That you task me ceaselessly?-- -Tyrant soul, come, answer me, - _Is_ it well? - - O tyrant soul of mine, - Don't you know -That in slow, but sure decay, -I am wasting day by day, - While you grow -None the better for the strain -On my nerves and on my brain, -For my head's incessant pain, -And my sick heart's longings vain - For repose? - - O tyrant soul of mine, - God, the good, -Joined together you and me -In a wondrous unity, - That we should -Work together,-not that I, -You degrade and stupefy, -Nor that you His laws defy -By maltreating ceaselessly - Hapless me! - - O tyrant soul of mine, - By and by, -Weary of your cruel reign, -Quite worn out with toil and pain, - I shall die -Then, when I have passed away, -And you're asked whose hand did slay -Your companion of the clay, -Much I wonder what you'll say, - Soul of mine! - - - - -NOT YET - -"Go thy way, and when I have a more convenient season I will call for -thee." - - * * * * * - -"The harvest is past, the summer is ended, and we are not saved." - - -Not yet, not yet, O Saviour, - Although thou callest me -In life's unclouded morning - Why should I follow thee? -The world and all its pleasures - Outspread before me lie, -When I have grasped its treasures - I'll hear thee, by and by. - -Not yet, not yet, O Saviour!-- - True, thou hast called me long, -Yet, almost more than ever, - I love the world's glad song! -Say not the years are hasting - With rapid footsteps by,-- -Say not life's sands are wasting, - But call me by and by! - -Not yet, not yet, O Saviour! - I have no time to stay; -The goal tow'rd which I hasten - Is now not far away. -Another day--and haply - The triumph I shall see, -And grasp my crown of vic'try,-- - Then, I will call for thee! - - * * * - -No more, no more, O sinner, - The Saviour's call is o'er! -The door is shut forever, - To be unclosed no more!-- -So late the hour and lonely, - So dark the night and drear, -And He who called thee only - To bless thee, will not hear! - -Past is the harvest-gladness, - The summer-bloom is o'er, -Thy sun has set in sadness, - To rise-oh, nevermore! -So late the hour and lonely, - So dark the night and drear, -And He who called thee only - To bless thee, will not hear! - - - - -MARGUERITE - - -Lightly the shadows -Play through the trees, -Green are the meadows, -Soft is the breeze,-- -June's early roses, -Pensive and sweet, -Droop where reposes -Lost Marguerite! - -Meeting thee never -In the green bowers,-- -Missing thee ever -'Mid the fresh flowers,-- -Till the long hours die-- -Hours once so fleet-- -Hopelessly wait I, -Lost Marguerite! - -Day has grown weary -In the blue sky, -Summer is dreary, -Melodies die; -Lowly the willow -Droopeth to meet -And kiss thy pillow, -Lost Marguerite! - -Flower the fairest -Of sweet summer time, -Rosebud the rarest -Plucked ere its prime, -Mine to weep ever -Where the wares beat, -Meeting thee never, -Lost Marguerite! - - - - -"COME UNTO ME." - - -Weary soul, by care oppressed, -Wouldst thou find a place of rest? -Listen, Jesus calls to thee, -Come, and find thy rest in me! - -Hungry soul, why pine and die -With exhaustless stores so nigh? -Lo, the board is spread for thee, -Come, and feast to-day with me! - -Thirsty soul, earth's sweetest rill -Mocks thee with its promise still; -Hark, the Saviour calls to thee, -Here is water, come to me! - -Homeless soul, thy path is drear, -Angry tempests gather near, -Night is darkening over thee, -Here is shelter, come to me! - -Heavenly bread and heavenly wine, -Living waters, all are mine!-- -Mine they are, and thine may be, -Weary wand'rer, come to me! - - - - -"I WILL NOT LET THEE GO." - - - Nay, I will not let thee go, -Though the midnight glideth slow,-- -Though the darkness deep and long -Dim the sight and hush the song, -On thy tender, faithful breast, -Find I still my perfect rest-- -Soothing sweet for keenest woe-- -And I will not let thee go! - - Nay, I will not let thee go, -Though the morn's enkindling glow -Flame along the mountain-height. -Flooding all the hills with light; -What can morning bring to me, -Tender Shepherd, wanting thee? -What its songs but sobs of woe? -Nay, I will not let thee go! - - Nay, I will not let thee go, -Though the day no shadows know; -Though, the sky's serene to dim, -Lower no storm-cloud dark and grim; -Whom have I in Heaven but thee?-- -What beside hath earth for me?-- -Thou, the only trust I know,-- -Nay, I will not let thee go! - - Let thee go?--my Saviour, nay -Thou my night's unfailing day, -Thou my dawning's tenderest gleam, -Thou my noonday's richest beam,-- -Night is day if thou art near, -Day without thee, joyless, drear,-- -Wanting thee, all bliss were woe,-- -Nay, I will not let thee go! - - - - -GREETING HYMN. - -Written for the Alumni of Albion College, Michigan; and sung at their -last re-union, June, 1881. - - -The gliding years have rolled along, - And once again we come, -With greeting hand and choral song, - To our old college-home;-- -Sweet college-home! dear college-home! - We gladly gather here, - Old friends to greet, - Old faces meet, - And sing our songs of cheer! - -A welcome true for those we meet, - For those we miss, a sigh; -Of some we ne'er again may greet, - We speak with tearful eye; -Some rest with God, whose feet once trod - These halls with ours of yore; - And some there are - Who wander far - On many a distant shore! - -God, bless and keep the ones who roam, - And us who meet again; -And lit us each for that bright home - Where comes no parting pain;-- -Oh, aid us still, thro' good or ill - Still earnest for the right, - With spirits true, - To dare and do, - With Heaven and thee in sight! - -And as the lingering years go by, -And changeful seasons come, -Still let thine eye rest lovingly - On this old college-home;-- -Sweet college-home! dear college-home! - We gladly gather here, - Old friends to meet, - Old faces greet, - And sing our songs of cheer! - - - - -ONE BY ONE - - - One by one, ye are passing, beloved, - Out of the shadow into the light. - One by one, - Are your tasks all done. - Ended the toil, and the swift race run. - Child and maiden, mother and sire, - Sister and brother, - Ye follow each other, -Out of the darkness where we stand weeping, -Weary and faint with our virgil-keeping, -Into die summer-land, peaceful and bright! - - One by one, ye are passing, beloved, - Out of the darkness round us that lies-- - One by one, - Gliding on alone, - Hearing nor heeding our plaint and moan. - Friend and lover, the fondest, best, - Most tender and true, - Ye pass from our view, -Out of the night that enfolds us ever, -Out of the mists where we moan and shiver; -Into the joy-light of sunniest skies! - - One by one, we are hasting, beloved, - Out of the midnight into the day. - One by one, - Are _our_ tasks all done, - And the race that is set us with swift feet run. - Loved and parted ones, still our own, - Nearing you ever - We press toward the river. -Over whose waters ye passed on before us, -Shortly to join in your rapturous chorus, -And swell the hosannas of Heaven for aye! - - One by one, ye are greeting, beloved, - Those whom you left for a while in tears. - One by one - Is the bright goal won - By those ye lost sight of at set of sun. - Child and maiden, mother and sire, - Sister and brother, - Ye're greeting each other, -Up where the holy ones round you are singing, -Up where the new song of Heaven is ringing, -Never to part through eternity's years! - - - - -LOVE - - -God so loved me that He gave -Jesus for my sins to die; -Jesus loved me in the grave, -Jesus loves me still on high,-- -Father-love and Saviour-love, -Mine on earth and mine above! - -Love, from highest heights that stooped,-- -Love, to deepest depths that came,-- -Love, that 'neath my burden drooped,-- -Bore my anguish and my shame-- -Died, that I may never die,-- -Living, lifts me to the sky! - -Love, the arm that reached me first,-- -Love, the hand that raised me up,-- -Love, my prison-bars that burst,-- -Love, that filled my brimming cup-- -Filled it full of Heavenly wine-- -Filled, and blessed, and made it mine! - -Love, the holy, cleansing fount -Where I wash my garments white,-- -Love, my Tabor, hallowed mount, -Where I stand with Him in sight,-- -Love, my watch-tower, till the day -Chase all earth-born mists away! - - - - -AN EVENING HYMN - -"I will both lay me down in peace, and sleep; for thou, Lord, only -makest me dwell in safety" - - - The tranquil hours steal by - On drowsy wings and slow, -And over all the peaceful sky - The stars of evening glow. - - No gathering clouds I see, - I hear no rising blast, -I fold my tired hands restfully, - As though all storms were past. - - Yet, whether so or not, - O Lord, thou knowest best! -This night, let every anxious thought - And trembling fear have rest - - This night I will lie down - In peace beneath thine eye, -Nor heed what ills unseen may frown, - Since thou art ever nigh. - - I will lie down and sleep, - From every terror free; -Nor wake to tremble or to weep, - Secure, O Lord, with thee! - - - - -DEATH - - -'Tis but to fold the arms in peace, - To close the tear-dimmed, aching eye, -From sin and suffering to cease, - And wake to sinless life on high. - -'Tis but to leave the dusty way - Our pilgrim feet so long have pressed, -And passon angel-wings away, - Forever with the Lord to rest. - -'Tis but with noiseless step to glide - Behind the curtain's mystic screen -That from our mortal gaze doth hide - The glories of the world unseen. - -Tis but to sleep a passing hour, - Serene as cradled infants sleep; -Then wake in glory and in power, - An endless Sabbath day to keep. - - - - -I SHALL BE SATISFIED - - -I shall be satisfied when I awaken - In thy dear likeness, my King and my Lord,-- -When the dark prison of death shall be shaken, - And the freed spirit comes forth at thy word!-- -I shall be satisfied, Saviour, be satisfied, - Wearing thy likeness and near to thy side! -Sinless and sorrowless, robed in thy righteousness, - What can I ask for in glory beside? - -I shall be satisfied loving thee ever, - Hearing thy accents and sharing thy joy, -Fearing nor change nor estrangement to sever - Me from my Lord and His blissful employ!-- -Satisfied, satisfied, evermore satisfied, - Wearing thy likeness and near to thy side! -Sinless and sorrowless, robed in thy righteousness, - What can I ask for in glory beside? - -I shall be satisfied when I behold thee, - I shall be like thee, my Saviour and King! -And, in the radiance that will enfold thee, - I shall enfolded be, too, while I sing-- -Lo, I am satisfied, Saviour, am satisfied, - Wearing thy likeness and near thy side! -Sinless and sorrowless, robed in thy righteousness, - What can I ask for in glory beside! - - - - -AT THE GRAVE OF A YOUNG MOTHER - - - A transient day, - A troubled night, - The swift decay, - The certain blight, -And death and dust;-- - - And are these all?-- - Nay: those are past; - And she who sleeps - Shall wake at last -Among the just! - - - - -GO, DREAM NO MORE - - - Go, dream no more of a sun-bright sky - With never a cloud to dim!-- -Thou hast seen the storm in its robes of night, -Them hast felt the rush of the whirlwind's might, -Thou hast shrunk from the lightning's arrowy flight, - When the Spirit of Storms went by! - - Go, dream no more of a crystal sea - Where never a tempest sweeps!-- -For thy riven bark on a surf-beat shore, -Where the wild winds shriek, and the billows roar, -A shattered wreck to be launched no more, - Will mock at thy dream and thee! - - Go, dream no more of a fadeless flower - With never a cankering blight'-- -For the queenliest rose in thy garden bed, -The pride of the morn, ere the noon is fled, -With the worm at its heart, withers cold and dead - In the Spoiler s fearful power! - - Go, dream no more--for the cloud will rise, - And the tempest will sweep the sea, -Yet grieve not thou, for beyond the. strife, -The storm and the gloom with which Earth is rife, -Gleam out the light of a calmer life, - And the glow of serener skies! - - - - -COME HOME - - -Come home! come home! O loved and lost, we sigh -Thus, ever, while the weary days go by, -And bring thee not. We miss thy bright, young face, -Thy bounding step, thy form of girlish grace, - Thy pleasant, tuneful voice,-- -We miss thee when the dewy evening hours -Come with their coolness to our garden, bowers,-- -We miss thee when the warbler's tuneful lay -Welcomes the rising glories of the day - And all glad things rejoice! - -Come home!--the vine that climbs our cottage eaves, -Hath a low murmur 'mid its glossy leaves -When the south wind sweeps by, that seems to be -Too deeply laden with sad thoughts of thee-- - Of thee, our absent one!-- -The roses blossom, and their beauties die, -And the sweet violet opes its pensive eye -By thee unseen; and from the old, beech tree -Thy robin pours his song unheard by thee, - Dally at set of sun! - -Dearest, come home! Thy harp neglected lies, -Breathing no more its wonted melodies; -Thy favourite books, unopened, in their case, -Just as thy hands arranged them, keep their place, - And vacant is thy seat -Beside the hearth. At the still hour of prayer -Thou com'st no more with quiet, reverent air; -And when, around the social board, each face -Brings its warm welcome, there's one vacant place-- - One smile we may not meet. - -Come home!--_thy_ home was never wont to be -A place where clouds might rest; yet, wanting thee, -All pleasant scenes have dull and tasteless grown, -And shadows lower-shadows, erewhile unknown - Of ever-deepening gloom. -The halls where erst thy happy childhood played, -The pleasant garden by thy fair hands made, -The bower thy sunny presence made so fair, -Are all unchanged,--yet grief is everywhere;-- - Dear one, come home! - -Come home?--come home?--alas, what have I said? -Beyond the stars, beloved, thy feet have sped! -No more to press these garden paths with mine, -Or walk beside my own at day's decline-- - No more--no more to come -To these old summer haunts! But I shall stay -A little while; and then, at fall of day, -I, too, like thee, shall sleep, and wake to see -Thy Lord and mine, and so shall ever be - _With Him and thee at home!_ - - - - -BE IN EARNEST - - -Be in earnest, Christian toilers, - Life is not the summer, dream -Of the careless, child that gathers - Daisies in the noontide beam! -It hath conflict, it hath danger, - It hath sorrow, toil, and strife; -Yet the weak alone will falter - In the battle-field of life. - -There are burdens you may lighten, - Toiling, struggling ones may cheer, -Tear-dimmed eyes that you may brighten, - Thorny paths that you may clear;-- -Erring ones, despised, neglected, - You may lead to duty back,-- -Beacon-lights to be erected, - All along life's crowded track. - -There are wrongs that must be righted, - Sacred rights to be sustained, -Truths, though trampled long and slighted, - 'Mid the strife to be maintained;-- -Heavy, brooding mists to scatter-- - Mists of ignorance and sin,-- -Walls of adamant to shatter, - Thus to let God's sunlight in. - -Boundless is the field and fertile, - Let the ploughshare deep be driven; -So, at length, the plenteous harvest - Shall look smiling up to heaven! -Sow the seed at early morning, - Nor at evening stay thy hand; -Precious fruits, the earth adorning, - Shall at length around thee stand - -Be in earnest, Christian toilers, - Life is not the summer-dream -Of the careless child that gathers - Daisies in the noontide beam! -Life hath conflict, toil, and danger,-- - It hath sorrow, pain, and strife,-- -Yet the weak alone will falter - In the battle-field of life! - - - - -CHLODINE - - -We met one fresh June-morn, Chlodine, - Where two roads came together; -I'd travelled far through storm and rain, - And you, through pleasant weather. -I loved you for the light, Chlodine, - Of summer all around you,-- -I loved you foil the sweet June-flowers, - Whose dewy garlands bound you! - -You loved me not, Chlodine, because - The storms had beat upon me; -Because there was no breath of flowers, - No summer sunshine on me;-- -You could not see, Chlodine, that deep - Within my soul were growing -Fresh flowers that evermore would keep - The fragrance of their blowing. - -And so we parted--you and I-- - Your ways all fresh and flowering; -Mine, rocky steeps up mountains high, - 'Neath skies with tempests lowering; -And yet the sunshine spoilt your flowers,-- - Mine, bitter grief-drops nourished, -And while yours withered day by day, - Mine bloomed the more, and flourished - -And now we're met again, Chlodine, - You love me for my flowers, -Their perfume scenting all the air. - Like breath of Eden-bowers;-- -I love you not, Chlodine, alas! - You're changed since those old mornings, -Your regal summer-robes are lost, - With all their rare adornings! - -We stand together side by side, - And yet, at farthest, never, -Before stretched out so far and wide - The distance that did sever -Us, as to-day it does, Chlodine, - Though hand touch hand in greeting, -And never again shall we know, Chlodine, - Another June-day meeting. - - - - -THE BIRD AND THE STORM-CLOUD - - - Little bird, is that thy sphere, -Yonder threat'ning cloud so near? -Sunbeams blaze along its brow, -Yet what darkness reigns below! -There the sullen thunder mutt'ring, -Wrathful sounds is sternly utt'ring;-- -There the red-eyed lightning gleameth, -Where no more the sunlight beameth, -And the strong wind, fiercely waking, -Wings of fearful might is taking;-- -Creature of the calmer air, -Wherefore art thou soaring there? - - Wert thou weary of the vale, -With its blossom-scented gale?-- -Weary of thy breezy bowers?-- -Weary of thy wild-wood flowers?-- -Weary of thy wind-rocked nest -In the bright, green willow's breast?-- -Didst thou sigh, on daring wing, -Up in heaven's blue depths to sing?-- -Claim with storms companionship, -And in clouds thy free wings dip?-- -And, where rushing winds are strong, -Pour thy melody of song? - - Bird, thy wing is all too weak -Such adventurous heights to seek; -In the bower thou seem'dst to be -Trembling with timidity; -Now, with proud, unshrinking glance -Thou art daring yon expanse, -And, with wild, exultant singing, -Upward thy free flight art winging;-- -Creature of the calmer air, -Wherefore art thou sporting there? - - Bird, that cannot be thy sphere, -Yonder threatening cloud so near!-- -With thy bright, unfearing eye, -Wherefore seek that troubled sky? -Ah! a hand is o'er thee spread, -To defend thy beauteous head; -Sheltering arms are round thee cast, -'Mid the lightning and the blast; -God doth shield thee, and shall He -_Thine_, and not _my_ guardian be? - - No: He, who guards thy fragile form -Midst the dread, o'erwhelming storm, -Will His kind protection spread -O'er His child's defenceless head,-- -Temper every blast severe,-- -Mingle hope with every fear,-- -Pour into the bleeding heart -Balm for sorrow's keenest smart, -And will gift the feeblest form -With a might to brave each storm! - - Bird, thou well mayst soar and sing -High in heaven on raptured wing! -Thou hast never learned to fear -Blighting change, in thy bright sphere; -'Tis to us, and us alone, -Faith's mysterious might is known: -We, that tremble at the blast, -Shall o'ersweep the storms at last! -Though around us tempests lower, -We shall know our triumph-hour; -And on glad exultant wing -Soar, and with the angels sing - - - - -NO SOLITUDE - -"Whither shall I go from thy Spirit?" - - -I stood where ocean lashed the sounding shore -With his unresting waves, and gazed far out -Upon the billowy strife. I saw the deep -Lifting his watery arms to grasp the clouds, -While the black clouds stooped from the sable arch -Of the storm-darkened heavens, and deep to deep -Answered responsive in the ceaseless roar -Of thunders and of floods. - - "Here, then, I am alone, -And this is solitude, "I murmured low, -As in the presence of the risen storm -I bowed my head abashed. "Alone?"-- -The echoing concave of the skies replied,-- -"Alone?"--the waves responded, and the winds -In hollow murmurs answered back--"Alone?" - -"Thou canst not be alone, _for God is here!_ -Yon mighty waste of waters, whose deep voice -Goes up unceasingly to heaven, He holds -E'en as a drop within His hollow hand! -He makes His dark pavillion stormy clouds; -The winds and thunders are His uttered voice; -And the red flames that blaze athwart the sky -Are but the lightnings of His awful glance!" - - * * * * - -I stood at eve, where, high in upper air, -A mountain reared its solitary head, -Bathing its forehead in the ruddy light -Of cloudless sunset. Like a snowy veil -The white mist gathered o'er the distant plain, -While, over all, the sunset heavens shone -In burning glory, and the blushing West -Gathered all gorgeous hues into a wreath -Of wondrous radiance to twine around -The temples of her monarch, ere he sought -The chambers of his rest. - - Full-orbed the moon -Rode slowly up the east; while, one by one, -Spirits of night lighted the lamps of heaven. -"This is to be alone!"--I whispered low, -For nature's solemn beauty had a spell -To awe my soul to silence. - - "What, alone?"-- -Murmured the mountain wind, as round my brow -It waved its rustling pinions. "What, alone?"-- -Low voices questioned from the sighing pines,-- -"Alone?"--the stars repeated to my soul-- -"In the Eternal's presence, canst thou stand, -While, from above, His awful glories look,-- -While all, around, beneath thee, and within, -Attest His presence, and thus idly deem -Thou art alone? No; thou art _not_ alone, -_For God is here!_" - - * * * * - - It was a summer noon. -The soft, south wind made music 'mid the boughs -Of the cool forest, whence glad bursts, of song -Floated unceasing. On a mossy bank -Starred with pale flowers, I laid me down to rest, -Yet not to slumber. Tenderly, the sky -Glanced like a loving spirit through the leaves; -And, ever and anon, like fleecy gold, -The yellow sunbeams dropped amid the gloom -Startling the shadows. Twas a hallowed scene! -Each waving leaf seemed Instinct with glad life, -And every sound was richly freighted with -The wealth of harmony. - - "Is this to be alone?" -I inly questioned, yet my secret soul -Needed from Nature no responsive voice; -For my whole being, with a thrill of joy. -Replied;--"In all the universe of God, -There is no solitude!" - - O soul of mine, -Joy in thy wealth of being!--in the power -To grasp the Infinite where'er thou turn'st;-- -To see Him, feel Him near, yet most of all, -Him to adore and love;--to hear His voice -In every breeze, in every gentle chime -Of the sweet waters, in the song of birds, -The hum of insects, and all deeper tones -Of Nature's wondrous music;--yet, far more, -To recognize His Spirit's gentle voice -Unto thy spirit, whisp'ring tenderly-- -"I am thy Father, thy Redeemer, thine -Amid the devious paths that checker earth, -And thine in Heaven!" - - - - -THE STRAY LAMB. - -A GRANDMOTHER'S STORY. - - -We had finished our pitiful morsel, - And both sat in silence a while; -At length we looked up at each other. - And I said, with the ghost of a smile,-- -"Only two little potatoes - And a very small crust of bread-- -And then?"--"God will care for us, Lucy!" - John, quietly answering, said. - -"Yes, God _will_ provide for us, Lucy!" - He said, after musing a while-- -I'd been quietly watching his features - With a feeble attempt at a smile-- -"For, '_trust in the Lord, and do good_,' - Our Father in Heaven has said, -'_So shalt thou dwell in the land, - And verily thou shalt be fed!_'" - -Scarcely the words had he spoken, - When a faint, little tap at the door -Surprised us,--for all the long morning - The rain had continued to pour. -I am sure I shall never remember - The pelting and pitiless rain -Of that desolate day in November, - Without a dull heart-throb of pain. - -For work had grown scarcer and scarcer, - Till there seemed not a job to be done; -We had paid out our very last sixpence, - And of fuel and food we had none. -John had tried--no one ever tried harder-- - For work, but his efforts were vain; -And I wondered all faith had not failed him - That morning when out in the rain. - -"Come in!" said John, speaking quite softly. - And opening the door a small space, -For there stood a thin, little beggar - With such a blue, pitiful face! -"O sir, if you please sir, I'm hungry, - Do give me a small bit of bread!" -"Come in, then, you poor, little woman, - I am sure you are freezing!" John said. - -We each caught a hand cold and dripping, - And drew the poor trembler in; -But she sank at our feet like a baby, - Half-frozen, and drenched to the skin. -John ran for our last bit of fuel; - And I, to an old box, where lay -Our own little Maggie's warm clothing,-- - Our Maggie--dead many a day! - -I tore off her old, dripping tatters, - And rubbed her blue, shivering form; -And then put those precious clothes on her, - And made her all glowing and warm. -"O ma'am, if you please, I'm _so_ hungry!" - Again the dear innocent said; -So John brought our two cold potatoes - And our one little morsel of bread. - -"Here, take this,"--he said; and she snatched it, - And ate till the last bit was done; -And we two looked on, never grudging - Our all to the famishing one. -I looked up a half-minute after, - But John had slipped out in the rain; -And the wind was still howling and raging - Like some great, cruel monster in pain. - -Soon the pale, little eyelids grew heavy, - And I watched till the weary one slept;-- -Then I, a poor weak-hearted woman, - Held her closer, and oh, how I wept! -With our fire all burned out to black ashes,-- - Our very last bit of food gone,-- -Poor John, too, out facing the tempest,-- - And I left there shiv'ring alone! - -But the little, warm head on my bosom - Seemed so strangely like hers that I lost; -And the soft, little hands I was holding, - So like the dear hands that I crossed -In their last quiet rest,--and those garments-- - _Ah, those garments!_--I mused till it seemed, -I had got back my own little Maggie;-- - And then, for long hours. I dreamed. - - * * * * - -"Why Lucy, my girl, you are sleeping!-- - Come, rouse up, and get us some tea!"-- -It was John, who'd returned, and was speaking-- - "Poor wife, you're as cold as can be! -See, here are some coals for the firing; - And here is a nice loaf of bread,-- -A steak, and a morsel of butter, - Some tea and some sugar"--he said. -"Nay now, do not ask any questions!-- - Let me just lay this lammie in bed, -And when we have had a nice supper, - I'll tell you, dear, all how it sped." - -And so, when the supper was over-- - That supper!--I'll never forget -The warm, glowing fire--oh, so cozy-- - I can see every coal of it yet-- -We knelt down, and John thanked the dear Father - For all He had sent us that day;-- -Yes: e'en for thee dear, pretty baby - His own little lamb gone astray! - -And then, in a few words, John told me - Of his desperate walk in the storm-- -Every minute believing, expecting, - That God would His promise perform;-- -Of the merchant up town who had hailed him, - (One of his men being sick,) -And hired him to run of a message; - And, because he'd been trusty and quick, -Had trebled his wages, and told him - To come the next morning again; -"Just because," added John, softly laughing, - "I'd been willing _to work in the rain!_" - -Well, long ere the morning dawned on us, - The child had grown frantic with pain; -And for many long days she lay moaning - With the fever that burned in her brain. -Every morning John prayed by her pillow, - Then went to his work; and I stayed, -And kept my sad watch the long day through, - And at night he returned to my aid. - -At length the fierce struggle was over, - She lived, and we both were content, -For we knew God had given her to us-- - His lamb, through the wintry storm sent -The fever had burned every record - Of home and friends out of her mind; -And though we sought long, yet we never - Any traces of either could find. - -And so she grew up by our fireside, - And we called her--not Maggie--oh no!-- -That name we had laid up in Heaven, - And no one must wear it below!-- -But we just called her, Pet; and her husband - Calls her nothing but Pet to this day:-- -She's a grown woman now, and a mother, - How swiftly the years glide away! - -Well, John never has lacked for employment, - And we never have wanted a home; -We never said nay to a beggar, - Or refused one that asked it a crumb. -Pet grew up a dear, loving woman-- - "God's light in our house," John would say-- -And when a good man came and took her, - He took _us_, too, the very same day. -But here she comes now with the baby, - And grandmother never says nay; -So here's a good bye to my story, - For baby has come for a play! - - - - -STAY, MOTHER, STAY! - - - "Stay, mother, stay, for the storm is abroad, -And the tempest is very wild; -It's a fearful night with no ray of light, -Oh stay with your little child!" - - "Hush darling!" the mother, with white lips said-- -"Lie still till I come again, -God's angels blest will watch o'er thy rest -While I am abroad in the rain! - Thy father, child?--oh, I quake with fear -When I think where he may be, -And I dare not stay till the dawn of day-- -I must hasten forth to see!" - - Then the young child buried her tangled curls -In the ragged counterpane, -While the half-clad mother went forth alone -In the blinding wind and rain. - - Down many a narrow, slippery lane, -Down many a long, dark street, -Went that shivering form thro' the pelting storm -Of wind, and rain, and sleet; -Till, nearing a den where inebriate men, -With Bacchanal oath and yell, -And curse and jeer, spent the midnight drear, -She reeled in the gloom and fell; -For a prostrate form, in the pitiless storm -And inky darkness, lay -Helpless and prone on the pavement-stone, -Across her desolate way. - - She knelt alone by the fallen one, -And murmured in accents low, -A name, how dear to her girlhood's ear -In the beautiful long ago! -But no voice, no tone replied to her own, -And the cold hand fell like lead; -And her wailing cry brought back no reply, -As she shrieked "he is dead!--he's dead!" - - Aye, "dead!"--God pity thee, stricken wife! -God pity thee, orphan child! -Poor slave to wine, what a death was thine, -In that wintry tempest wild! - - We know not how long that wild, drunken song -And those curses assailed her ear, -But the morning-ray found its early way -To one who no more could hear; -For the faithful heart that had borne its part -Awhile, through those watches lone, -Had grown still it last as the pitiless blast -Swept by her with wrathful tone;-- -But the rumseller-he slept quietly -In his chamber of gilded pride, -For little he cared how his victims fared, -Or whether they lived or died! - - Oh! the old, old strain with its old refrain, -Of agony, death, and woe!-- -Oh! the bitter tears that, through all the years, -Have been flowing, and ever flow! -Must the ghastly tragedy never cease? -Will Manhood never awake? -And, by God's great might made strong for the right. -Stand up for Humanity's sake, -And wipe the horrible stain away -From his country and his home-- -The dark, ensangnined, loathsome stain -Of the merciless monster, Rum? - - - - -TIME FOR BED - - - "Time for bed!"--the weary day -With its toils has passed away -Sol has wrapped his forehead bright -In the curtains of the night, -And his glorious lamp again -Lowered behind the western main -Leaving all heaven's pure expanse -Radiant with his parting glance - - Just a few, faint stars are seen -Ranged around the midnight queen-- -A select and glorious band -Who alone may waiting stand -Hound the monarch of the night, -Bearing up their urns of light, -Her majestic path to cheer -Till the shadows disappear. - - "Time for bed!" the folded flowers -Hang their heads in forest bowers; -Nestled in each downy nest -Day's sweet songsters calmly rest; -And the night-bird's plaintive hymn -Echoes through the forest dim; -Dew-drops on the birchen-bough -In the star-beams sparkle now, -Scarce a zephyr stirs the rose -So profound is Earth's repose. - - "Time for bed!" put by thy books, -Learner, with thy studious looks;-- -Poet, lay the pen away, -Candle-light will spoil thy lay;-- -Leave it till the morning hours -Come with sunshine to the flowers,-- -Leave it till from shrub and tree -Birds pour forth their minstrelsy,-- -Till the sun on wood and wold -Turns the drops of dew to gold,-- -Till the bee comes forth to sip -Nectar from the flow'rets lip,-- -Till the light-winged zephyrs wake -Dancing ripples on the lake, -And the cloudlets in the height -Don their fleecy robes of white;-- -Then, with graceful Euterpe, -Seek the spreading greenwood tree, -And with joy, and light, and love, -AH around thee and above, -Tune thy lyre to praiseful mirth -With all happy things of Earth! - - "Time for bed!"--thou man of toil, -Why consume the midnight oil?-- -Night was made for slumbers blest, -Thou art weary, therefore rest! - - "Time for bed!"--poor "Martha," thou -Long enough hast labored now; -All the day's bright hours are numbered, -Yet art thou "with toiling cumbered." -Lay that tedious work away -Till the blest return of day,-- -Thou art care-worn and oppressed, -Thou art weary "Martha," rest! - - "Time for bed!"--shut up the stove, -To its place the table move, -Lay the books into their case, -Wheel the sofa to its place, -Wind the clock, brush up the floor, -Close the shutters, lock the door, -That will do--put out the light, -Toil and trouble, all good night! - - - - -FROM THE OLD TO THE NEW - -LINES FOR THE NEW YEAR - - - I hear the beat of the unresting tide - On either shore as swiftly on I glide - With eager haste the narrow channel o'er, - Which links the floods behind with those before. - I hear behind me as I onward glide, - Faint, farewell voices blending with the tide, - While from beyond, now near, now far away, - Come stronger voices chiding each delay; - And drowning, oft, with wild, discordant burst, - The melancholy minor of the first - -"Farewell! farewell!--ye leave us far behind you!"-- - Tis thus the bright-winged Hours sigh from the Past-- -"Ye leave us, and the coming ones will find you - Still vainly dreaming they will ever last,-- -Still trifling with the gifts all fresh and glowing, - Each in its turn will scatter in your way,-- -Still chasing airy phantoms, though well-knowing - That, ere you grasp them, they will melt away-- - Farewell! farewell!" - - "Haste! haste! haste!"-- - Thus from the Future the voices ring-- - "The air is balmy with breath of spring, - The waters sleep in the morning light, - The storms are hushed, and the skies are bright, - Haste! haste! haste! - - "Isles of beauty and bloom are here, - Groves, whose leafage is never sere, - Teeming harvests of boundless wealth, - Peace, and plenty, and buoyant health-- - Haste! haste! haste! - - "Joy-bells ring in the sunny air, - Mirth and music are everywhere,-- - Bend to the oars, and away, away - While the ripples dance and the breezes play-- - Haste! haste! haste!" - -"Farewell! farewell!--ye leave us far behind you-- - Us, the lost Hours that would have blessed you so! -Yet, as ye leave us, let our strains remind you - That we, not empty-handed, Heavenward go. -Records we bear of all the good we brought you,-- - Of all we offered,-all that ye refused,-- -Of all the lessons we in patience taught you,-- - Of wasted time, of privilege abused; -To God's tribunal we those records bear, - Sometime, remember, they will meet you there-- - Farewell! farewell!" - - - - -THE VOICE OF SPRING - - -I heard a voice--twas the voice of Spring, -Up from the rivulets murmuring, -Singing of freedom,--thus the lay -On the breezes floated away-- - "Joy! joy!--the chains that bound us - Now disappear, - Sunlight pours its treasures round us, - Warm, warm and clear, - Onward, speeding onward - To the bright main, - Chainless, free, unfettered, - Are we again!" - -I heard a voice--'twas the voice of Spring, -Out from the hill sides whispering, -And a tender strain from the woodland lone -Blended with it in murmurous tone-- - "Joy! joy!--the world is waking - From her long rest,-- - Earth a glow of warmth is taking - To her chill breast,-- - Tiny flower germs, hidden - Long out of sight, - Stealing forth unbidden, - Seek the warm light!" - -I heard a voice--'twas the voice of Spring, -Over the waters wandering, -As to the wilds came the song birds back, -Singing still in their homeward track-- - "Joy! joy!--we're home returning - To the free hills, - From our long and far sojourning, - Now, to the rills, - To the echoing forest. - Orchard and plain, - With our old-time music, - Speed we again!" - -I heard a voice--'twas the voice of Spring,-- -Nature, all Nature awoke to sing; -And every valley, and grove, and plain -Had its share in the welcome strain:-- - "Joy! joy!--the chains are broken, - Spring smiles again,-- - Joy for every blessed token - Of her glad reign,-- - Joy on all the waters, - Joy on each shore.-- - Sunlight, song, sweet odors, - Welcome once more!" - - - - -HONOR TO LABOR - - -HONOR TO LABOR!--it giveth health; -Honor to labor!--it bringeth wealth; -Honor to labor!--our glorious land -Displayeth its triumphs on every hand. -It has smoothed the plains, laid the forests low, -And brightened the vales with the harvest's glow,-- -Reared cities vast with their marts of trade, -Where erst undisturbed lay the woodland shade,-- -Brought up from the depths of the teeming mine, -Its treasured stores in the light to shine,-- -Sent Commerce forth on his tireless wings -In search of all precious and goodly things-- -Forth to the ice-bound Northern seas, -And to bright isles fanned by the Southern breeze, -Where the Orange deepens its sunset dyes, -And the Cocoa ripens 'neath glowing skies,-- -To the sunny islands of Austral climes,-- -To lands undreamt of in elder times,-- -Till every region, and clime, and zone, -Has yielded its treasures to bless our own. - -Honor to Labor!--it diveth deep -To dim sea-caves where bright treasures sleep, -And dareth with curious quest explore -The ancient wonders of Ocean's floor. -It fearless roams over Deserts vast, -Where destruction rides on the Simoom's blast, -And trackless sands have for ages frowned -O'er cities in ancient song renowned. -It climbs where the dazzling glaciers lie, -Changeless and cold, 'neath a glowing sky, -And leaves the trace of its triumphs proud -Above the regions of storm and cloud. - -The Ocean, once an untravelled waste, -By feet adventurous never passed, -Spread forth to the solemn skies alone -Its restless waters to man unknown. -Imagination, with eager quest, -Went forth o'er its bosom with vague unrest, -To loneliest regions devoid of light, -Where dark Cimmerii dwelt in night,-- -Or peopled its realms, undiscovered, lone, -With phantoms of horror and shapes unknown. - -But Labor came, and with kindling glance -Boldly he traversed the far expanse, -Scatt'ring the shadows of ancient night, -And lifting a glad New World to light. -Now, a realm of life is the glorious Sea-- -A peopled realm of the bold and free-- -Where the proud ship glides like a thing of life, -And laughs at the storms and the billows' strife,-- -Vast highway of nations, above whose deeps -Commerce with tireless navies sweeps, -And Life goes forth in its glad unrest, -Buoyantly treading the waves' white crest. - -Honor to Labor!--his strong right hand -Old, frightful chasms has boldly spanned, -And hung his teeming thoroughfares high -'Twixt rushing torrent and bending sky. -He has harnessed Steam to the flying car, -And sent it from ocean to ocean afar,-- -Pierced strong-ribbed mountains that barred his way, -And oped through their caverns a broad highway,-- -Taught the lightning to carry his messages forth -From West to East, and from South to North, -And flash his thoughts through the depths profound -Of Ocean, the Earth's circumference round,-- -Made Light his servant to do his will-- -With faultless pencil and subtlest skill -Limning the features most dear in life, -Of friend, or husband, or child, or wife, -And compressing into a single hour -The work of months of artistic power. - -Honor to Labor!--with steady eye -He has fearlessly traversed the midnight sky, -And followed the mazy, perplexing dance -Of planets and moons thro' the far expanse,-- -Their orbits, periods, weight and size, -Studied with heedful and cautious eyes, -And forced the haughty, imperial sun -To answer his inquiries one by one. -He has tracked the comet's erratic flight -Through the silent star-fields of primal night,-- -Walked through the depths of old nebulae -With flashing glance and with footstep free, -And seen spin round him in wildering flight -Systems and suns, while the infinite -Of God's great universe stretched away -Farther far than e'en thought might stray - -"Honor to Labor!"--the mariner sings, -As forth to the breezes his sails he flings;-- -"It has made us lords of the boundless deep-- -Fearlessly over the waves we sweep!" - -"Honor to Labor!"--the traveller cries, -As forth in the rushing tram he flies;-- -"We may rival the speed of the bird's swift wing -As he joyously soars thro' the skies of Spring, -And the fetterless wind on its pinions free, -Is scarcely more fleet in its course than we!" - -"Honor to Labor!"--the student cries, -As he gazes around him with joyful eyes,-- -"Honor to Labor!--the teeming press -Pours forth its treasures the world to bless! -From the pictured pages where childhood's eye -Findeth a world of bright imagery, -To the massive tome 'mid whose treasures vast, -Lie the time-dimmed records of ages past, -We may wander, and revel, yet ever find -Supplies exhaustless for heart and mind -We may turn to the Past--to the ages fled-- -And converse hold with the gifted dead,-- -Old climes of historic fame explore, -And gather the gems of their buried lore,-- -With Prophet-bards seek inspiring themes, -Or muse alone by old fabled streams,-- -With the Poet take our enraptured flight, -And woo the Muse on Parnassus' height,-- -Take fair Philosophy by the hand, -And roam with her through her native land,-- -May win from the God-inspired of Earth -Heavenly treasures of priceless worth,-- -Till the mental stores of all ages flown, -And all gifted minds, we have made our own.". - -Honor to Labor of body or mind, -That hath for its object the good of mankind! -The Farmer, who cheerily ploughs the soil, -And gathers the fruit of his hopeful toil,-- -The strong Mechanic, whose manly brow -Weareth of labor the healthful glow,-- -The bold Inventor, beneath whose hands -The useful engine completed stands,-- -The Artist, who, with unrivalled skill, -Creations of loveliness forms at will,-- -The Teacher, who sows in the minds of youth -Seeds of precious undying truth,-- -The pale-faced Student, who, worn with toil, -Consumes o'er his studies the midnight oil,-- -The man of Science, with earnest mind, -Who toils to enlighten and bless mankind-- -To themselves, their race, and their country true. -Honor, all honor, to such is due! - - - - -THE MISER - - -The night was dark and dreary, - And the autumn-wind went by -With a sound like Sorrow's wailing - In its sadly mournful cry;-- -The yew trees, old and drooping, - Shook in the angry blast, -And the moon looked, pale and tearful, - Through the clouds that hurried past. - -In a dreary room and fireless, - With mouldy walls and damp, -A grey, old man was seated - Beside a flickering lamp;-- -An old man, worn and wasted, - With bent and shivering form, -And haggard looks, sat trembling - At the moaning of the storm. - -The casements, old and creaking, - Shook in the angry blast; -And the pale, thin face grew paler, - As the shrieking winds went past; -For hovering fiends seemed clutching - His treasures from his grasp, -And unseen fingers tight'ning - On his throat their icy clasp. - -Again the strong wind rattled - The broken window-pane, -And the dying taper wavered - In the rude blast yet again-- -For one brief instant wavered, - Then paled its sickly light, -And the shuddering wretch was shrouded - In impenetrable night. - -The dull, grey light of morning - Illumed the mountain-height, -And Earth lay, cold and shiv'ring, - In the blanched, autumnal light, -But a sunbeam struggled faintly - Through the Miser's broken shed, -And lit the pale, set features - Of the still, unshrouded dead. - -For there, alone, and trembling - With the horrors of affright, -He had met the king of terrors - 'Mid the darkness of the night; -And with gold enough to satiate - A monarch's haughty pride, -In fear, and rags, and misery - Of _want_ the wretch had died! - - - - -BROKEN - - -I. - - Broken! - It's only a ring--a plain, old ring, - Worn down to a thread almost-- - Fling it away--the useless thing! - What value now can it boast?-- - Fling it away! - Yet stay!--oh stay - Ere you cast it away! - There's a tale of the vanished years - That ever will cling, - To that broken ring, - That hallows and endears-- - Oh stay! -In vain!--in vain!--What matters it now - That tenderest memories cling -To that thread of gold so wasted and old-- - Who cares for a broken ring?-- - Fling it away! - - -II. - - Broken! - It's only a vase--an old, stone vase-- - Ancient and out of style-- - That has stood for years in the chimney place, - Provoking many a smile-- - Throw it away! - Yet stay!--that vase - Held honored place - In the sight of prince and peer - And the flowers it held - Were gathered of old - By the lovely and the dear!-- - Oh stay! -In vain!--In vain!--What matters it now -How honored was once its place! -It is broken, and old, and the hearts are cold -That cherished the old stone vase-- - Throw it away! - - -III. - - Broken! - It's only a promise--as light as air-- - Though earnestly, solemnly given, - Made to be broken--yet who should care?-- - Do you think it was heard in Heaven?-- - Break it to day! - Yet stay!--that breath - Is a blast of death - To an innocent human heart! - Unsay the word, - For God has heard! - And He taketh the wronged one's part--- - Break it _not_ to-day! -In vain!--in vain!--What matters it now? -It was only a breath--no more! -A faithless promise--a traitor's vow-- -Such things have happened before-- - It's broken to-day! - - -IV. - - Broken! - It's only a heart--a human heart-- - That has throbbed for years and years, - With the burning pain and the cruel smart - Whose agony knows no tears-- - Cast it away' - Yet stay!--oh stay! - A father, grey - And sorrowful, prayed for her long - And a mother's love - Bore to God above - The tale of her poor childs wrong!-- - Cast it _not_ away! -In vain!--'Tis a story old and worn-- -This story of falsehood's art-- -Of the harsh world's withering blight and scorn,-- -Who cares for the broken heart - That's been cast away? - - - - -"TO OUR PARENTS" - -WRITTEN BY REQUEST, FOR A GOLDEN WEDDING - - -Full fifty years together-- - Father and mother dear-- -Through pleasant summer weather, - Or wintry tempests drear,-- -Thro' sunshine and thro' shadow, - Oft travel sore and tried, -Yet strong to aid each other, - You've journeyed side by side - -A few brief years of climbing,-- - One glad, exultant glance -At the sun bright world around you, - At the smiling heaven's expanse,-- -And then, the slow descending - Into the vale below, -Where the light with shade is blending, - And the deamy waters flow - -Full fifty years of travel-- - Then, on your worn staves rest, -And welcome home your children, - And many an honored guest,-- -We come to give you greeting,-- - We come to bring you cheer,-- -To hail with glad rejoicing - This fiftieth wedded year! - -We know your hearts are asking - For _one_ who is not here-- -Whose voice was sweetest music, - Whose smile was very dear, -But the blessed Heaven that holds him - Is very near to you, -And the warm love that enfolds him, - Enfolds his parents too. - -Then let the tears we're shedding - Have naught of grief's alloy;-- -And let this GOLDEN WEDDING - Be one of tranquil joy. -God bless our honored father - God bless our mother dear! -And a thousand, thousand welcomes - To this fiftieth wedded year. - - - - -UNDER THE ROD - -"Be Still, and know that I am God!" - - -Be silent, Soul!--though dark thy path and dreary, - And wild with storm, yet what is that to thee? -Though thou art faint, and desolate, and weary, - Thy God hath willed thus,--so let it be! -Murmurs the mountain oak when storms assail it, - And warring tempests wildly shake its form? -Firmer within the earth its root it striketh, - And gathers strength and vigor from the storm. - -Be silent, Soul!--the hand of God is on thee! - And, as a skillful gard'ner, from the vine -Doth lop away each worthless branch and barren, - So He would lop each fruitless bough of thine. -Ah! thou art earth-bound, prone, and lowly creeping, - clinging to things too frail to be thy stay; -Jesus, with watchful care His vineyard keeping, - Would lift thee up to sunshine and the day. - -Be silent, Soul!--thou'rt not thy own;--the Saviour - With blood and anguish bought thee on the tree! -Why murmur, then, that He should seek to make thee - Holy, and pure, and fit with Him to be? -This world is not thy home!--cease thy weak clinging - To its frail reeds, O thou whose mansion blest -Is where Life's river flows with ceaseless singing - Through the fair Paradise where angels rest. - -Be silent, Soul--in the great heavenly Temple, - The Master-Builder hath a niche for thee; -And thou must pass beneath His forming chisel, - If thou a goodly, polished stone wouldst be. -Bless God for every stroke that severs from thee - The gross and earthy, bringing to the light -The intrinsic worth His Spirit hath wrought in thee,-- - The gem His hand would polish and make bright - -Be silent, Soul!--thy God is ever near thee, - Whether thy path 'mid storm or sunshine lie,-- -Whether the morning's tender radiance cheer thee, - Or rayless darkness veil the midnight sky! -What matter though thy pathway lone and dreary - Should _all_ with weary, trembling feet be trod? -Enough for thee to know, thy Lord is near thee, - And the rough road leads up to Heaven and God! - - - - -THE WHITE STONE CANOE - -AN INDIAN TRADITION; VERSIFIED FROM SCHOOLCRAFT - - -It was a day of festive-mirth, - And bright the Indian wigwams shone, -For 'twas a chieftain's bridal-day, - And gladness dwelt in every tone; -But ere the glow of sunset hours - Upon the western hills was shed, -Deep sadness rested on those bowers-- - The bride was numbered with the dead. - -Days passed; and still beside her tomb - The stricken lover bowed his head; -And-nightly, through the forest's gloom - The stars beheld him with his dead. -In vain did grey-haired chieftains urge - The youthful hunter to the chase;-- -He heard, yet heeded not their words, - For grief had chained him to the place. - -They laid his war-club by his side, - His bow and arrows, too, they brought, -And sang of glorious deeds of might - That stately chiefs of yore had wrought; -But listlessly he heard their songs, - Flung back his bow with sullen pride, -And by the silent grave sat down - Where they had laid his youthful bride. - -But pleasant memories came at length - Of what he learned in boyhood's day, -Of a bright path that led from earth - O'er the blue mountains far away -To the best land where spirits dwell, - The home of GHEEZHA MONEDO, [1] -Where parted loved ones meet again - Beyond the reach of pain and woe. - -Then from the ground the warrior rose, - And bade the sleeping dust adieu, -And started for the spirit-shore - With the bright southern skies in view;-- -Forests, and hills, and vales, and streams, - In his quick flight he left behind;-- -Earth's stores of rare and lovely things - Had nought to charm the wand'rer's mind. - -The snow, that lay upon the earth - When he forsook his native hills, -Had slowly melted from his path, - And sought the bed of crystal rills; -The woods assumed a gayer hue, - The flowers put on the bloom of spring, -The clear sky shone with brighter blue, - And birds sped by on joyous wing. - -By these blest signs the warrior knew - That he was travelling aright; -For old Tradition taught him so, - And on he pressed with fresh delight. -At length the shining path he spied - Winding amid a beauteous grove, -Up to the summit of a hill - That rose the verdant plain above. - -High on the summit stood a lodge - To which this mystic pathway led;-- -Thither, with undeclining zeal - And ardent hopes, the warrior sped. -An old man met him at the door, - With piercing eyes and long, white hair, -Who took the wand'rer by the hand, - And kindly bade him welcome there. - -"I know thy quest!" the old man said, - "Leave here thy arrows and thy bow; -Thy body, too, thou must forsake-- - Thither thy soul alone can go. -Thou seest yon gulf, and far away - Beyond, a region bright and fair, -Whose blue hills in the distance rise, - Warrior, the land of souls is there' - -"My lodge the gate of entrance is,-- - I'll guard whatever thou leav'st behind, -And thou may'st hasten on thy way, - A joyous spirit unconfined." -Thus saying, the aged man withdrew; - And the freed traveller sped away-- -As though his feet were changed to wings-- - Upon his fair, but shadowy way. - -Shadowy indeed, for all he passed-- - Trees, plants, and flowers no substance wore, -And birds and beasts were but the souls - Of those that dwelt on earth before;-- -Yet birds swept by on joyous wing, - And, pausing, gazed the timid deer -With fearless look, as if to say, - "We have no strife or bloodshed here!" - -Onward he went, till, just before, - A beauteous lake appeared in view; -And at the water's edge he spied - A snow-white, shining, stone canoe. -Lightly the warrior sprang within, - And grasped the paddle by his side; -When turning, lo, beside him sat - The spirit of his beauteous bride - -She sat within a light canoe, - And sweetly beckoned him away -To a green isle that, like a gem, - Amidst the sparkling waters lay; -High leaped the waves, yet on they pressed, - Wreath after wreath of foam they passed,-- -Thus gliding o'er the water's breast - They reached the wished-for shore at last. - -Together o'er those verdant plains, - 'Mid fadeless flowers the lovers walked; -And of their native hills and streams, - And forest-homes, they freely talked. -There were no storms, no chilling winds, - No frost, no blight, to dim the flowers, -But never-fading summer reigned - Amid those calm and peaceful bowers. - -None hungered there--no death, no pain, - No blighted hope, no sleepless fear; -No mourner sorrowed o'er the dead, - And no bereaved one dropped a tear; -Serenest skies were spread above, - Bright flowers were blooming all around -And every eye was filled with love, - And music dwelt in every sound. - -"Here let me stay!" the warrior cried, - "On this secluded, happy shore; -Here, with my loved and beauteous bride, - Where bitter partings are no more!" -Thus spake the youth, but, ere the words - Had died away upon the breeze, -There came a low, sweet spirit-voice - Murm'ring among the sheltering trees. - -"Warrior!"--thus spake the breezy voice-- - "Return unto thy native shore; -Resume again thy mortal frame, - And mingle with thy tribe once more. -Listen to him who keeps the gate, - And he will tell thee what to do; -Obey his voice, return to earth, - And virtue's pleasant paths pursue. - -"Thy time to die has not arrived; - But let each gloomy thought be still, -Thy maiden waits thee on this shore, - Subject no more to pain or ill! -In never-fading youth arrayed. - Here shall ye dwell in peace at last, -When thou hast done thy work on earth, - And life's brief wanderings are past. - -"Return!--thou yet must lead thy tribe - Through many a wild, adventurous scene; -But when a good old age is reached, - And thou their leader long hast been, -Then will I call thee to thy rest - In this bright island of the skies, -Where thou mayst mingle with the blest, - While long, succeeding ages rise!" - -The chieftain woke--'twas fancy all, - The bright revealings of a dream;-- -Around him still the forest stood - Beneath the cold moon's placid beam. -Up from the ground he proudly rose, - Took up his war-club and his bow, -Quelled in his soul the bitter floods - Of disappointment and of woe,-- - -And, turning from the grave of her - Who erst was all the world to him, -He wiped away the gathering tears - That made his eagle-glances dim; -And with a proud, majestic step - He slowly from the grave withdrew, -Resolved to hope and labor on, - With better prospects in his view - -[Footnote 1: Merciful Spirit.] - - - -GONE BEFORE - -(IN MEMORY OF A PUPIL) - - - Thou art but gone before-- - Gone to that unknown shore -Toward which _my_ feet are journeying swiftly on - Thou hast but laid thy head - _First_ with the dreamless dead, -I, too, shall come, and share thy rest anon. - - Methinks 'twas sweet to die, - Ere childhood's purity -Had been polluted by sin's withering breath; - Ere Care's pale, haggard mien - Thy laughing eye had seen, -Or thou hadst wept beside the bed of death! - - We weep--yet thou art blest! - We mourn--but thou'rt at rest! -Well may we weep, yet, lost one, not for thee! - Not that thy race is run, - Thy brief life-journey done, -And thou departed with thy Lord to be. - - O no!--yet we may weep, - That sin, so strong, so deep -A root within our tempted souls should have; - That we, with mortal fear, - Still trembling, doubting here, -Should cling to Earth in terror of the grave! - - To Earth, whose very bloom - Speaks of the dust, the tomb,-- -Whose fairest blossoms round our footsteps die,-- - Whose hopes are fraught with fears,-- - Whose smiles are washed with tears,-- -Whose sweetest songs are burdened with a sigh! - - Sleep on, thou early blest! - No cares can mar thy rest, -No years of grief and trial are for thee; - No blighted hopes, no fears, - No wasted, sin-cursed years-- -Joy for thee, little one, thou'rt free-aye, free! - - Now with the peaceful dead - Lay we thy beauteous head, -No mourner's dirge for thee shall chanted be! - So may we rest at last, - When all our toils are past, -And rise to tune an angel's harp with thee! - - - - -JOHANNA - -(HIAWATHA MEASURE.) - - -'Twas a balmy day in Autumn, -In the drowsy, dreamy Autumn, -When from out the quiet woodland -Sounds of rustling leaves came only-- -Leaves that floated softly earthward-- -And the streamlets had a murmur -Such as wanders through our visions -In the hushed and starry midnight-- -Low, soft murmur, full of music. - -With the small hand of her darling -Clasped in her's, there came a mother -To an Artist--fondly asking -For the picture of her pet-lamb-- -Winsome pet-lamb full of child-life, -Full of merry, ringing laughter-- -Laughter that went up unceasing -Like the happy chime of streamlets -Singing thro' some mountain valley,-- -Like the bird-song in the forest -In the time of early roses,-- -Like the tinkle of sweet waters -Dripping o'er a marble fountain. - -And the child's glad eyes grew brighter -As she saw her own sweet image -From its little case look smiling -Back upon her radiant features-- -Saw the clustering curls fall softly -Round the peach-blow neck and bosom,-- -Saw the lips, two tiny rose-buds, -And the scarce-shown pearls that edged them,-- -And the quivering, laughing lashes -Of the eager eyes were lifted -In glad wonder, as she murmured -"Oh, it's pretty!--ain't it, ma ma?" - -Came another day in Autumn-- -Gloomy, sad, tempestuous Autumn-- -And from out the moaning forest -Came the sound of rushing tempests -As they dashed the sere leaves downward -From the darkly tossing branches,-- -And the turbid streams were chafing -With the rush of swollen waters -That, in tones all hoarse and angry, -To the rude winds made replying. - -With the hot hand of her darling -Clasped in hers, that same fond mother -O'er a little couch was bending, -Where her little lamb lay moaning -In unquiet fevered slumbers. -Oft the blue-veined lids would tremble -O'er the half-veiled eyes, and sadly-- -Painfully the lips would quiver, -As the sobbing breath came slowly -From the scarcely heaving bosom - -Ah! that little lamb was treading -'Mid the shadows of the valley!-- -And her spirit-ear, affrighted, -Just had caught the nearer murmur -Of the death-stream cold and sullen -Haply, wond'ring at the darkness -That was slowly settling round her. - -But it passed, and o'er those features -Slowly broke a smile, so holy -That we deemed the angels gathered -Round her in the gloomy valley. -Then the life-light gently faded -From those eyes, as fades the sunset -From the peaceful summer heavens,-- -Stiller grew the little bosom,-- -And the sobbing breath grew fainter,-- -And the fading smile more sweetly -Played around those lips, till slumber-- -Strange, deep slumber slowly settled -In its marble stillness o'er her. - -Ah!--that little tear-stained image -Now, is all that's left thee, mother, -Of thy little, dark-eyed daughter! -Ever, as it smiles upon thee -From its tiny case, how keenly -Will thy heart-strings thrill with anguish. -As that voice again comes to thee, -And again those sweet lips murmur-- -"Oh it's pretty!--ain't it, ma-ma?" - - - - -SANZAS - -"Whom have I in heaven but thee?" - - -'Twere nought to me, yon glorious arch of night, - Decked with the gorgeous blazonry of heaven, -If, to my faith, amid its splendors bright, - No vision of the Eternal One were given; -I could but view a dreary, soulless waste-- - A vast expanse of solitude unknown;-- -More cheerless for the splendors o'er it cast, - For all its grandeur more intensely lone. - -'Twere nought to me, this ever-changing scene - Of earthly beauty, sunshine, and delight-- -The wood's deep shadows and the valley's green, - Morn's tender glow, and sunset's splendors bright-- -Nought, if my Father smiled not from the sky, - The cloud, the flower, the landscape, and the leaf; -My soul would pine 'mid Earth's vain pageantry, - And droop in hopeless orphanage and grief. - -'Twere nought to me, the Ocean's far expanse, - If His perfections were not mirrored there, -Hopeless across the unmeasured waste I'd glance, - And clasp my hands in anguish, not in prayer, -Nought, Nature's anthem, ever swelling up - From Nature's myriad voices, for the hymn -Would breathe nor love, nor gratitude, nor hope, - Robbed of the tones that speak to me of Him. - -This wondrous universe, how less than nought - Without my God--how desolate and drear! -A mockery Earth with her vain splendors fraught-- - A gilded pageant every rolling sphere; -The noonday sun with all his glories crowned, - A sickly flame, would glimmer faint and pale; -And all Earth's melodies, their sweetness drowned, - Be but the utt'rance of a funeral wail! - - - - -CANADA - - -Fair land of peace!--to Britain's rule and throne -Adherent still, yet happier than alone, -And free as happy, and as brave as free, -Proud are thy children--justly proud, of thee! - -Thou hast no streams renowned in classic lore, -No vales where fabled heroes moved of yore, -No hills where Poesy enraptured stood, -No mythic fountains, no enchanted wood; -But unadorned, rough, cold, and often stern, -The careless eye to other lands might turn, -And seek, where Nature's bloom is more intense, -Softer delights to charm the eye of sense. - -But we who know thee, proudly point the hand -Where thy broad rivers roll serenely grand-- -Where, in still beauty 'neath our northern sky, -Thy lordly lakes in solemn grandeur lie,-- -Where old Niagara's awful voice has given -The flood's deep anthem to the ear of heaven -Through the long ages of the vanished past, -Through Summer's bloom, and Winter's angry blast-- -Nature's proud utterance of unwearied song, -Now, as at first, majestic, solemn, strong, -And ne'er to fail, till the archangel's cry -Shall still the million tones of earth and sky, -And send the shout to ocean's farthest shore-- -"Be hushed ye voices--time shall be no more!" - -Few are the years that have sufficed to change -This whole broad land by transformation strange; -Once, far and wide, the unbroken forests spread -Their lonely wastes, mysterious and dread-- -Forests, whose echoes never had been stirred -By the sweet music of an English word,-- -Where only rang the red-browed hunter's yell, -And the wolfs howl thro' the dark, sunless dell. - -Now, fruitful fields and waving orchard-trees -Spread their rich treasures to the summer breeze. -Yonder, in queenly pride, a city stands, -Whence stately vessels speed to distant lands;-- -Here smiles a hamlet thro' embowering green, -And there, the statelier village-spires are seen;-- -Here, by the brook-side, clacks the noisy mill, - -There, the white homestead nestles to the hill;-- -The modest school-house here flings wide its door -To smiling crowds that seek its simple lore;-- -There, Learning's statelier fane of massive walls -Wooes the young aspirant to classic halls; -And bids him in her hoarded treasures find -The gathered wealth of every gifted mind. - -Here, too, we see, in primal freshness still, -The cool, calm forest nodding on the hill; -And o'er the quiet valley, clustering green, -The tall trees linked in brotherhood serene, -Fattening from year to year the soil below, -Which shall in time with golden harvests glow; -And yield more wealth to Labor's sturdy hands, - -Than fabled Eldorado's yellow sands. -Where once, with thundering din, in years by-gone, -The heavy waggon labored slowly on -Thro' dreary swamps by rudest causeways spanned, -With shaggy cedars dark on either hand, -Where wolves oft howled in nightly chorus drear, -And boding owls mocked the lone traveller's fear, - -Now, o'er the stable Rail the Iron-horse -Sweeps proudly on in his exultant course, -Bearing in his impetuous flight along, -The freighted car with all its living throng, -At speed which rivals in its onward flight, -The bird's free wing thro' azure fields of light. - -Wealth of the forest, treasures of the hills, -Majestic rivers, fertilizing rills, -Expansive lakes, rich vales, and sunny plains, -Vast fields where yet primeval nature reigns, -Exhaustless treasures of the teeming soil-- -These loudly call to enterprising Toil - -Nor vainly call. From lands beyond the sea, -Strong men have turned, O Canada, to thee,-- -Turned from their father's graves, their native shore, -Smiling to scorn the flood's tempestuous roar, -Gladly to find where broader, ampler room -Allured their steps, a happy, Western home. - -The toil-worn peasant looked with eager eyes -O'er the blue waters, to those distant skies; -Where no one groaned 'neath unrequited toil, -Where the strong laborer might own the soil -On which he stood; and, in his manhood's strength, -Smile to behold his growing fields at length;-- -Where his brave sons might easily obtain -The lore for which their father sighed in vain, -And, in a few short seasons, take their stand -Among the learned and gifted of the land, - -Could ocean-barriers avail to keep -That yearning heart in lands beyond the deep? -No!--the sweet vision of a home--his own, -Haunted his days of toil, his midnights lone; -Till, gath'ring up his little earthly store, -Boldly he sought this far-off Western shore, -In a few years to realize far more -Than in his wildest dreams he hoped before. -We cannot boast those skies of milder ray, -'Neath which the orange mellows day by day, -Where the Magnolia spreads its snowy flowers, -And Nature revels in perennial bowers,-- -Here, Winter holds his long and solemn reign, -And madly sweeps the desolated plain,-- -But Health and Vigor hail the wintry strife, -With all the buoyant glow of happy life, -And, by the blazing chimney's cheerful hearth, -Smile at the blast 'mid songs and household mirth. - -Here Freedom looks o'er all those broad domains, -And hears no heavy clank of servile chains, -Here man, no matter what his skin may be, -May stand erect and proudly say "I'M FREE!" -No crouching slaves cower in our busy marts, -With straining eyes and anguish riven hearts! - -The beam that gilds alike the palace walls -And lowly hut, with genial radiance falls -On peer and peasant,--but the lowliest here -Walks in the sunshine, free as is a peer. -Proudly he stands with muscles strong and free, -The serf--the slave of no man, doomed to be. -His own, the arm the heavy axe that wields,-- -His own, the hands that till the summer fields,-- -His own, the babes that prattle in the door,-- -His own, the wife that treads the cottage floor, -All the sweet ties of life to him are sure, -All the proud rights of MANHOOD are secure! - -Fair land of peace' Oh mayest thou ever be, -Even as now, the land of LIBERTY!-- -Treading serenely the bright upward road, -Honored of nations and approved of God,-- -On thy fair brow emblazoned clear and bright, -FREEDOM, FRATERNITY, AND EQUAL RIGHT! - - - - -"I LAID ME DOWN AND SLEPT" - -(Ps. 3 5.) - - - Dark was the midnight hour, -And wild with storm. Nor moon nor pitying star -Gleamed through the inky darkness from afar; -And Earth seemed reeling blindly to her doom, -As reels some stout ship thro' the midnight gloom, -What time the tempest and the waves have power. - - I stood alone that night, -And stretched my chill hands tow'rd the rayless sky, -And heard the wrathful winds go shrieking by, -And thought of one, whose weary feet from far -Were journeying homeward thro' that night's wild war, -Stricken with dire Consumption's deadly blight - - "Oh! feeble, woman's hands -Outstretched in anguish thro' the enshrouding dark, -Ye cannot reach that far-off, struggling bark -That seems so lashed and beaten by the storm; -Ye cannot clasp that fever-stricken form, -And lead him home across the cold, wet sands! - - "But thou canst kneel and pray, -Oh, burdened one!--Thy Father, through the night -Can hear thy prayer!--Thy tears fall in His sight! -Call e'er so faintly, He thy voice can hear! -Then close the door, and pray;--thy Lord is near-- -Is near to thee, and near to him alway!" - - Thus spake the voice of Love;-- -And, kneeling there, in God's own gracious ear -I whispered all my anguish and my fear, -Then laid me down, and slept, and saw no more -The night's black pall, or heard the sullen roar -Of battling storms that 'mid the darkness strove. - - I slept, and woke at length, -Strengthened, sustained. Another day, I knew -That he had been sustained and strengthened too; -And when, at length, his fevered hand I pressed, -I blessed the love that so had brought him rest, -And me, for added sorrows, added strength. - - - - -BRIGHT THOUGHTS FOR A DARK DAY - - -Will the shadows be lifted to-morrow?-- - Will the sunshine come ever again?-- -Will the clouds, that are weeping in sorrow, - Their glorious beauty regain? -Will the forest stand forth in its greenness?-- - The meadows smile sweet as before?-- -And the sky, in its placid sereneness, - Bend lovingly o'er us once more? - -Will the birds sing again as we heard them, - Ere the tempest their gentle notes hushed?-- -Will the breeze float again in its freedom, - Where lately its melody gushed? -Will the beautiful angel of sunset - Drape the heavens in crimson and gold, -As the day-king serenely retireth, - 'Mid grandeur and glory untold? - -Yea; the clouds will be lifted to-morrow, - From valley, and hill-top, and plain; -And sunshine, and gladness, and beauty - Will visit the landscape again;-- -The forest, the field, and the river - Will bask in the joy-giving ray; -And the angel of sunset, as ever, - Will smile o'er the farewell of day. - -For the longest day hastes to its ending,-- - The darkest night speeds to the day;-- -O'er thickest clouds, ever, the sunbeam - Shines on with unfaltering ray;-- -Though thou walk amid shadows, thy Father - Makes His word and his promises thine; -And, whatever the storms that may gather, - At length thro' the gloom He will shine! - - - - -THE DRUNKARD'S CHILD - - -A little child stood moaning - At the hour of midnight lone, -And no human ear was list'ning - To the feebly wailing tone; -The cold, keen blast of winter - With funeral wail swept by, -And the blinding snow fell darkly - Through the murky, wintry sky. - -Ah! desolate and wretched - Was the drunkard's outcast child, -Driven forth; amidst the horrors - Of that night of tempests wild. -The babe so fondly cherished - Once 'neath a parent's eye, -Now laid her down in anguish - Midst the drifting snows to die! - -"Papa!--papa!"--she murmured, - "The night is cold and drear, -And I'm freezing!--Oh, I'm freezing! - In the storm and darkness here;-- -My naked feet are stiff'ning, - And my little hands are numb,-- -Papa, can I not come to thee, - And warm myself at home? - -"Mamma! mamma!"--more wildly, - The little suff'rer cried-- -Forgetting, in her anguish, - How her stricken mother died-- -"Oh, take me to your bosom, - And warm me on your breast, -Then lay me down and kiss me, - In my little bed to rest!" - -Poor child!--the sleep that gathers - Thy stiffened eyelids o'er, -Will know no weary waking - To a life of anguish more. -Sleep on!--the snows may gather - O'er thy cold and pulseless form-- -Thou art resting, calmly resting, - In the wild, dark, midnight storm - - - - -THE NAMES OF JESUS - -[Footnote: This poem is designed to form a part of a volume of -strictly religious poetry, which the Author has in course of -preparation; and is inserted here in deference to the expressed wish -of a large number of friends. Its appearance here will not, however, -prevent its appearing in its appropriate connection.] - - - I SING the NAMES of JESUS!--matchless names! -Highest and holiest Earth or Heaven claims! -By which alone we may approach to Him -Before whose faintest ray the sun grows dim, -And all the brightest glory of the skies -Like twilight's feeble glimmer fades and dies. - - MESSIAH, CHRIST!--God's high, Anointed One! -The Eternal Father's well-beloved Son! -On whom the mystic oil of Heaven was shed, -What time, descending on His sacred head, -The Consecrating Spirit from above -Set Him apart to holiest deeds of love; -Anointed Prophet, from that favored hour -To teach His Father's will, to wield His power,-- -Anointed Priest, for His own people's sake, -Himself a sacrifice for sin to make,-- -Anointed King, unrivalled and alone -To reign on universal Empire's throne,-- -To whose high majesty and regal worth -All crowns shall bend in Heaven and in Earth,-- -All Powers to Him their cheerful tribute bring, -And all above, below, confess Him King. - - OUR PASSOVER! 'Twas night on Egypt's coast, -And all were hushed to rest save Israel's host;-- -They, silent, wakeful, harnessed as for flight, -Each in his own hushed dwelling watched that night -Through the slow, fateful hours of deepening gloom, -The coming of God's Messenger of doom, -Whose piercing eye, through the deep, awful shade -By Judgment's stern uplifted pinions made, -The blood-mark on each dwelling should descry -Of the slain lamb, and, seeing, pass it by. - -Thus, thus, O Soul! in that more awful hour -When the last Judgment's darker shadows lower, -And, swift and stern, God's messengers go forth -To reap the harvest of this fated Earth,-- -If then, on thee is found no crimson stain -Of God's own Lamb on bloody Calvary slain,-- -If thou art resting not beneath the blood -Of that one sacrifice ordained of God, -Where wilt thou fly?--where hide thyself away -From the dread reck'ning of the Judgment day?-- -If resting 'neath the blood for sinners spilt, -Look up!--the judge Himself has borne thy guilt' -Justice and Judgement claim thy life in vain, -Since Christ, thy Passover, Himself is slain! - -IMMANUEL!--God with us. _With us_, O Soul! -Of this brief utt'rance canst thou grasp the whole?-- -Nay, comprehend one attribute of God, -The Maker, Sovereign, Him who at a nod -Can hurl all worlds to wreck, and with a breath -Can wake a Universe from night and death, -And clothe in Beauty's robes of richest bloom -Ten thousand worlds snatched from chaotic gloom? - -If not, couldst grasp the thought that such as He, -Clothed in frail, human flesh, a _man_ should be? -Of us and with us, veiled his dazzling ray -Of awful Godhead, and at home in clay, -A living, dying man? Heaven, Earth, and Hell -The mystery fail to solve, Immanuel!-- -And yet, Faith lays her hand in thine, -And whispers low,--"Immanuel is mine!" - - But He has other Names, it may be less -Bewildering in their deep mysteriousness, -O'er which we oftener linger, which we bear -Oftener to Heaven upon the breath of prayer,-- -Sweet, hallowed home-names,--dearer, it may be, -Because first learned beside a mother's knee;-- -The tender names of Father, Brother, Friend,-- -Names that with all sweet recollections blend,-- -Names full of high significancy, given -To Him who intercedes for us in Heaven. - - FATHER!--dear name, to thought and feeling dear -Thrice-precious ever in the Christian's ear! -An earthly father, trials may estrange; -THE EVERLASTING FATHER knows no change!-- -With tireless patience and unslumbering care, -Watching wherever His earth-children are, -Nor failing e'en the faintest cry to hear, -By His weak children breathed into His ear. - - BROTHER!--our Eldest, FIRST-BORN FROM THE DEAD, -Of all the glorified the Living HEAD! -Yet condescending to the youngest child, -With tenderest looks and accents sweet and mild;-- -Who feels a wrong done to the feeblest one, -Keenly, as though unto Himself 'twere done;-- -Who, sees no kindness to the humblest shown, -But 'lisas though 'twere to Himself alone;-- -And who will judge the wrong, the kindness bless, -With all a brother's truth and tenderness;-- -Nay, more: an earthly brother faints and dies, -Or faithless oft, forgets affections ties;-- -His love, enduring as the eternal throne, -No change, decay, or loss have ever known. - - FRIEND!--there is music in that simple word, -Which through all time the human heart has stirred. -Earth cannot be a desert, joy-bereft, -To any heart, if but one friend is left;-- -Yet friends oft change, and friendship proves a name, -And death at last must ever quench its flame. - - Yet He's a friend, than brother closer far;-- -One whose affection changes cannot mar;-- -One tempted, tried, and grieved, as you have been;-- -Long a lone wanderer through this world of sin;-- -Himself without a friend whose steadfast heart -In His deep cup of anguish shared a part. - - Friendless He knelt in dark Gethsamane;-- -Unfriended hung on Calvary's bloody tree;-- -And all for what?--His matchless love to prove -For man, His enemy! O, matchless love!-- -O, wondrous Friendship!--O, unchanging Friend!-- -Who, loving thus, should love unto the end, -That, evermore, the ransomed soul might rest -Its weary head upon His faithful breast, -And feel, 'mid all vicissitudes and pains, -That one, true, constant, loving friend remains. - - Friend, Brother, Father!--Could we ask for more? -Yet these dear names exhaust not half the store. - REDEEMER!--SAVIOUR!--Lo! a captive, bound -With chains and fetters, wrapped in night profound, -In helpless, hopeless bondage, dark I lay, -When He, in pitying mercy, passed that way. - He saw me hugging close my heavy chain, -Loving my bonds, despite their bitter pain, -Deaf to the music of the songs of Heaven, -Blind to the light His pitying love had given, -Sick unto death, yet boastful of my health, -Clothed in foul rags, yet vaunting of my wealth. - - Was _that_ a thing to love or pity?--Nay!-- -Yet He did stoop, on me, His hand to lay; -Touched my dark eyes, and lo! the light was mine; -Ope'd my dull ears to harmony divine; -Showed me my rags, my wretchedness, my grief, -My deadly sickness, and then gave relief; -Paid my full ransom-price, warmed, cleansed, and red, -And clothed in spotless raiment, me He led -Forth from the dungeon of impurity, -To the pure air of heaven, made whole, set free! -Henceforth my all in life or death is thine, -And thou, Redeemer, Saviour,--thou art mine! - - Nor yet, with these, the exultant song should cease; -for this Redeemer is the PRINCE OF PEACE! -To be redeemed by earthly Prince, would be -High honor, lasting joy to him set free; -Yet earthly princes, emulous of fame, -Oft win their way to power by sword and flame, -And leave the path by which they reach a throne, -Red with slain victims in their rage o'erthrown, -And rudely crushed beneath the maddened tread -Of fiery Conquest, reckless of his dead. - - But oh, how diff'rent is the Prince of Peace! -He comes to bid the rage of conflict cease; -He lifts His hand above the stormy sea -Of human passion, surging wrathfully, -And lo! its maddened waves in peace subside,-- -Hushed is the tempest-roar of power and pride,-- -The desert and the wilderness rejoice, -And life awakes at His creative voice,-- -Peace spans with rainbow arch the weeping sky, -And angels smile from their pure homes on high! - -And yet our Prince is more. He is a PRIEST, -In whom signs, symbols, offrings all have ceased; -For, more than Priest, a SACRIFICE He stands, -With streaming side, and bloody feet and hands, -Bearing to Heaven, not blood of bullocks slain, -Nor victims' ashes sprinkling the unclean, -But His own blood, an offering to Heaven -That God might thus be just and man forgiven, -Himself, at once, Prince, Priest, and Sacrifice, -Man mediatorial, Lord of Earth and Skies,-- -Angels in vain the myst'ry would explore, -And men and angels mutually adore! - Yet, as though these were not enough, we find -Him stooping still, to meet the human mind, -Under still other names His boundless grace -And love to symbolize for Adams race. - - See yonder flock upon the mountain bare -Is there no hand to guide or tend them there? -When the wild beast comes prowling from his den, -Who will protect the helpless creatures then? -Who, when the pastures fail, and springs are dry, -Will lead them forth where greener pastures lie? - - What pitiest thou the helpless flock?--so He, -Thy watchful friend, in pity thinks of thee -"I the GOOD SHEPHERD am, and ye the sheep, -With tenderest care my little flock I keep, -No ravenous beast shall prey upon my own, -They know my voice, and follow me alone" - - Is yonder sun a welcome sight to thee, -As up the east he rides exultingly?-- -Do the hills wake to beauty as he comes, -And valleys blush with countless opening blooms? -Do the streams sparkle, and the woodlands ring -With the sweet lays the happy warblers sing? - He is a SUN, and where His radiance streams -Beauty and gladness waken in His beams, -The soul expands to perfect leaf and flower, -And ripening fruitage waits the vintage hour,-- -Songs of rejoicing float upon the air, -And 'neath His rays 'tis Summer everywhere. - - Is yonder vine a pleasant, goodly thing, -As upward still its laden branches spring, -As its ripe clusters woo the longing sight -To linger still with ever new delight? - "I'm the TRUE VINE," saith Christ, "the branches ye,-- -The living Vine, abide ye still in me; -Thus shall my life to every branch be given, -Thus shall each branch bring forth the fruit of Heaven!" - - See, yonder traveller in a desert land, -Toils day by day o'er tracks of burning sand, -A lurid sky above--beneath, around, -The dreary desert spreads its wastes profound. -With blistered feet, and aching, blood-shot eye, -Long dimly strained some fountain to descry, -Onward he toils, while hope, as days depart, -Grows feebler, fainter, at his weary heart - - On the horizon's verge he sees at length -A shadowy line, and lo, his failing strength -In a full tide returns!--His weary feet -Speed gladly on, by courage rendered fleet: -He gains the fount, he drinks, and toil and care, -And dread and danger, all forgotten are! - - So, to life's weary pilgrim, Christ is made -In the drear desert a refreshing SHADE! -A FOUNT OF LIVING WATER, never dry, -To all the thirsty yielding full supply,-- -A WELL OF WATER ever springing up -To Life Eternal--fount of joy and hope! - - Student of nature! dost thou love, at morn, -To tread where earliest flowers the wild adorn?-- -To view the lowly blossoms of the field, -In shady nooks half-hidden, half-revealed-- -The wild rose, scenting all the dewy air, -The graceful lily bending meekly there? - - Then think as with admiring eye you trace -Those meek, sweet dwellers in each lonely place, -That He, of whom I sing well knowing how -The heart to Natures lovely gifts, would bow, -Would lead your thoughts with gentle, winning force -Up from created Beauty to its Source - - He is the ROSE OF SHARON--fairest flower -That perfume breathed through Eden's hallowed bower -The LILY OF THE VALLEY, pensive, fair, -With heavenly sweetness flooding all the air,-- -Thrice sacred symbol, breathing evermore -Of Him whom angels cease not to adore! - - Thou man of Science, who, with practised eye -And glance untiring sweep'st the starry sky, -Speeding in thought along those trackless ways, -Where planets burn and constellations blaze, -Leaving uncounted worlds behind thee far,-- -Listen--"I am THE BRIGHT AND MORNING STAR !" -He says--and does not thought more gladly stray, -Where the meek herald of the rising day -Sits like a peaceful vestal bearing high -Her radiant urn on the soft eastern sky?-- -Thence, rising, seek the Morning Star of Heaven, -Who to Night's myriad suns their light has given, -And, bowing low Light's sacred Fount before, -In wondering, reverential awe adore? - - Soul, ever groping through the mists of time, -To find the path which leads to the sublime, -Still heights of God!--weak are thy steps and slow, -Yet there's a path no fowl of heaven doth know,-- -No lion's whelp that secret way hath found,-- -No eagle marked it from the heights profound,-- -No human art, unhelped, discerned the road -That leadeth up to happiness and God! - - Yet, anxious Soul! dost thou not hear Him say, -"Cease thy vain groping,--lo, I am the WAY,-- -The way to God,--the one unerring Way? -All other paths will lend thy feet astray, -I only, WISDOM, am the path that lies -'Twixt man and God the Sovereign of the skies!" - - Seeker of Truth !--long hast thou striven to find -This only boon that satisfies the mind -Through Nature's stores the treasure hast thou sought; -Hast traversed all the boundless fields of thought, -Questioned the lonely night, the laughing day, -The ocean-depths, the founts that ceaseless play, -Old hoary mountains, cliffs, and caverns lone, -Earth's secret depths--mysterious, unknown, -Asked of the past, the present, future, striven -To pierce the mysteries unrevealed of Heaven, -Yet weary and unsatisfied remained, -Longing for Truth, still far off, unattained,-- -That truth which _satisfies_ the anxious quest, -And with the attainment, bringeth _perfect rest_. - - "I am the TRUTH!"--saith Christ,--O, wearied one! -Tired of thy fruitless search beneath the sun, -Accept this boon, so sacred, so divine, -In simple trust, and all thou seek'st is thine-- -Truth that makes free,--that falsehood cannot dim,-- -In full completeness all made thine in Him! - - Lover of life! say, what wouldst thou not give, -To know that thou eternally shouldst live? -Is Death a thing from which to shrink with dread? -The dreary valley dost thou fear to tread? -What wouldst thou give to pierce the unknown Dark -That lies before thy feebly tossing bark. -And know what anchor in that unknown sea, -Or wreck disastrous, there awaiteth thee? - - Dost trembling cling to this frail thread of life, -Through pain, and doubt, and weariness, and strife, -Rather than trust thy dimly groping hand -Its hold to fasten on that unknown land -Whence none return, its secrets to declare, -And tell what bliss or rum waits thee there? - - Well mayst thou cling to Earth, unless thy ear -Opened has been, the voice from Heaven to hear,-- -To hear the Christ, amid Earth's wearying strife, -Its toil and tumult, say "_I am the_ LIFE!" -"_I am_ THE LIFE!"--oh, then, undo thy clasp -On this frail-being, and with deathless grasp -Lay hold on Him, in whom, by whom alone, -The bliss of Life Eternal may be known!-- -Failing in this, how deep must be the gloom-- -The unpierced darkness of the lonely tomb!-- -In this succeeding, what exultant day -O'er all thy future pours its blissful ray! - - Is light a blessing?--He's the soul's clear LIGHT-- -The blessed DAY-STAR, scattering the night! -Is peace the sweetest boon to mortals given?-- -Jesus is PEACE made manifest from Heaven! -Is love the bond of life, beneath, above, -In Earth, or Heaven?--His highest name is LOVE! - - ROCK, REFUGE, REST. a SHIELD in conflict dire, -Around His saints A WALL OF LIVING FIRE, -STRENGTH, HOPE, REDEMPTION, RIGHTEOUSNESS divine; -FAIREST AMONG TEN THOUSAND fair that shine -On hills Of light by high archangels trod, -Judah's stern LION, spotless LAMB OF GOD; -THE SON OF GOD, THE SON OF MAN, THE BREAD -OF LIFE, with which each heir of Heaven is fed; -THE RESURRECTION from the dust of death; -AUTHOR AND FINISHER of all our Faith; -God's manifested thought--Eternal WORD -By whom creation's eldest depths were stirred; -ALPHA, OMEGA, FIRST, LAST, JEHOVAH, MAN! -So ends my song just where my song began! -JESUS!--"He saves His people from their sins!" -_Thus end all praises, where all praise begins!_ - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Poems of the Heart and Home -by Mrs. J.C. 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