|llMti#ii1iiAiiiiiiTi riii "* f'U ' if Life Mosaic A NO ^^ ijNOi.K nit < panMMHt#>tttv>« QJornell Utttusraitg Slihrara Mlfnta, New ^arh .'JL.&, ScAuA?j!i€!,.tl^ PR4759.H377L8"l88r''''"'^ ''iiiMi'iiSmi'T*'^ ministry of song, and Un 3 1924 013 480 334 The original of tiiis book is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924013480334 MORRISON AND GIBB, EDINBURGH, Printers to her i\iajesty's stationery orfica. y. 'A o LIFE MOSAIC THE MINISTRY OF SONG AND UNDER THE S URFACE BY FRANCES RIDLEY HAVERGAL OTttf) ! Efcelbt illustrations bj THE BARONESS HELGA yO M CRAMM Nurra thousand. LONDON JAMES NISBET & CO., 21 BERNERS STREET 1880 Cc 0:;Nifl.U %ifz Mamie. ASTERj to do great work for Thee, my hand Is far too weak ! Thou givest what may suit — Some little chips to cut with care minute, ) Or tint, or grave, or polish. Others stand Before their quarried marble fair and grand, And make a life-work of the great design Which Thou hast traced; or, many-skilled, combine To build vast temples, gloriously planned. Yet take the tiny stones which I have wrought. Just one by one, as they were given by Thee, Not knowing what came next in Thy wise thought. Set each stone by Thy master-hand of grace, Form the mosaic as Thou wilt for me, ^\iid in Thy temple-pavement give it place. CONTENTS. THE MINISTEY OF SONG. PAGE Prelude, 1 The Ministry of Song, . 2 Our Hidden Leaves, C Tlireefold Praise, . 9 Not Yet 17 Thanksgiving, 19 Life-Crystals 21 Not your Own, .... 22 Whose I am, 24 Whom I serve. 25 Peace 26 God's Message to him that is far off. 28 God's Message to him that is near, 29 A Great Mystery 30 Be not Weary, 32 The Great Teacher, 34 Rest 37 One Question, Many Answers, 38 Content 41 JKsunderstood, 43 The Star Shower, . 46 Treasure Trove, 49 Coming Summer, . 50 September, 1868, . 52 Early Faith, . 54 Our Father, . 56 Disappointment, . 61 The Song Chalice, . 64 Silent in Love, 65 Light and Shade, 66 vui Contents. PAGE Xo Thorn without a Rose 6" Christ's Keoall, ^^ Faith's Question '^ I did this for thee ! What hast thou done for Me ? 76 Isaiah xxxiii. 17 ' ° God the Provider 7" Wait patiently for Him 82 This same Jesus, 83 Mary'a Birthday, 85 The Eight Vay 87 Thy Will be done, 88 The Things -which are behind, .... 90 Everlasting Love, "1 Master, say on ! • "^ llemote Eesults, 95 On the Last Leaf , 96 How should they know me ? Making Poetry 101 The Cascade, 10* Fairy Homes, 107 More Music, 109 New Year's Wishes, 110 My Sweet Woodruff, HI Ooi Gem Wreath, 113 My Name, .... ... 121 Faith and Eeason, 12i Lyntou, 127 A Lull in Life 129 Adoration 131 UNDEE THE SUEFACE. I. Under the Sijkface — Under the Surface, Autobiography, . Compensation, The Moonlight Sonata, Contents. IX II. OuE God— The Infinity of God, The Sijirituality of God, . The Eternity of God, The Sovereignty of God, . The Basential Blessedness of God, Thine is the Power, . III. OnB Saviour— The One Reality, . To Thee Confidence, . . . . I oonld not do without Thee, . Jesus only Is it for me ? . . . , . Hidden in Light, He is thy Lord, Our King, . . . . Ascension Song, Advent Song, , . . . IV. PAGE 162 163 164 16.5 166 167 p. ( — ^O OuK "Work — Have you not a "Word for Jesus ? A Worker's Prayer, A Silence and a Song, The Coming of the Healer, Another for Christ, How Wonderful ! A Plea for the Little Ones, Tell it out, . " . Sisters, , An Indian Flag, The Lull of Eternity, The Sowers, V. OuB Blessings— Everlasting Blessings, 224 Accepted, . 225 Fresh Springs, . 226 Faithful Promises 227 The Faithful Comforter, 229 Under His Shadow 230 The Triune Presence, 232 Contents. VI. Now AND AfTEKWAKD— Now and Afterward, 233 ' Tempted and Tried 234 Not Forsaken, 236 Listening in Darkness — Speaking in Light, . 237 Peaceable Fruit, . . . i . . 238 ■ Eight ! . . .... 240 The Col de Balm, . .... 248 Eye hath not seen 249 VII. TheChdkoh' OF Christ— Chosen in Christ, 252 Called, 253 Justified ^ . . . . 254 Sanctified, 255 Joined to Christ, , 256 Presented Faultless, ..... 257 Glorified, ....... 258 VIIL Miscellaneous— The Message of an jEolian Harp, . . . 260 The ChUdren's Triumph, 269 The Sunday Book, . 270 Two Rings, 272 Bells across the Snow, 275 Singing at Sunset, . 277 Singing for Jesus, . 278 She waits for me, . 280 The Mountain Maidens, . 282 A Seeing Heart, 298 July on the Mountains, . 301 My Window, . . . - 302 Candlemas Day, 303 Now! .... 305 Yet Speaketh, ! 310 From Glory to Glory, 312 '•-'"-^«»*A,Ar ■'I'll BK MV VEIISE .i ini.liK.N STIIKAH, WHICH SII.ENTI V MAY TU,K H'lIEKi: lii:ii(j|'l,\u l,EAF ANIi TIIIKS'n ■ THE MINISTRY OF SONG. ^ r c I tm 0. MID the broken waters of our ever-restless thought, Oh, be my verse an answering gleam from higher radiance caught ; That where through dark o'erarching boughs of sorrow, doubt, and sin, The glorious Star of Bethlehem upon the flood looks in, Its tiny trembling ray may bid some downcast vision turn To that enkindling Light for which all earthly shadows yearn. Oh, be my verse a hidden stream, which silently may flow Where drooping leaf and thirsty flower in lonely valleys grow ; And often by its shady course to pilgrim hearts be brought The quiet and refreshment of an upward-pointing thought ; Till, blending with the broad bright stream of sanctified endeavour, God's glory be its ocean home, the end it seeketh ever. 77/1? Ministry of Song. Efje ilHintstrs of -Sons. 'N God's great field of labour All work is not the same ; He hath a service for each one Who loves His holy name. And you, to whom the secrets Of all sweet sounds are known, Eise up ! for He hath called you To a mission of your own. And, rightly to fulfil it. His grace can make you strong, Who to your charge hath given The Ministry of Song. Sing to the little children, And they will listen well ; Sing grand and holy music, For they can feel its spell. Tell them the tale of Jephthah ; Then sing them what he said,^ ' Deeper and deeper still,' and watch How the little cheek grows red, And the little breath comes quicker : They will ne'er forget the tale, Which the song has fastened surely, As with a golden nail. I remember, late one evening. How the music stopped ; for hark ! The Ministry of Song. Charlie's nursery door was open, He was calling in the dark, — ' Oh no ! I am not frightened, And I do not want a light ; But I cannot sleep for thinking Of the song you sang last night. Something ahout a " valley," And "make rough places plain,'' And " Comfort ye ; '' so beautiful ! Oh, sing it me again ! ' Sing at the cottage bedside ; They have no music there. And the voice of praise is silent After the voice of prayer. Sing of the gentle Saviour Tn the simplest hymns you know And the pain-dimmed eye will brighten As the soothing verses flow. Better than loudest plaudits The murmured thanks of such. For the King will stoop to crown them With His gracious ' Inasmuch.' Sing, where the full-toned organ Eesounds through aisle and nave, And the choral praise ascendeth In concord sweet and grave. Sing, where the village voices Fall harshly on your ear ; And, while more earnestly you join, Less discord you will hear. The noblest and the humblest Alike are ' common praise,' The Ministry of Song. And not for human ear alone The psalm and hymn we raise. Sing in the deepening twilight, When the shadow of eve is nigh, And her purple and golden pinions Fold o'er the western sky. Sing in the silver silence, While the iirst moonbeams fall ; So shall your power be greater Over the hearts of all. Sing till you bear tliem with you Into a holy calm. And the sacred tones have scattered Manna, and myrrh, and balm. Sing ! that your song may gladden ; Sing like the happy rills, Leaping in sparkling blessing Fresh from the; breezy hills. Sing ! that your song may silence The folly and the jest, And the 'idle word' be banished As an unwelcome guest. Sing ! that your song may echo. After the strain is past, A link of the love-wrought cable That holds some vessel fast. Sing to the tired and anxious ; It is yours to fling a ray. Passing indeed, but cheering. Across the riigged way. The Ministry of Song. Sing toGocl's holy servants, Weary with loving toil, Spent with their faithful labour On oft ungrateful soil. The chalice of your music All reverently bear, For with the blessed angels Such ministry you share. "When you long to bear the Message Home to some troubled breast, Then sing with loving fervour,, ' Come unto Him, and rest.' Or would you whisper comfort. Where words bring no relief, Sing how ' He was despised, Acquainted v/ith our grief.' <§ And, aided by His blessing, The song may win its way AVhere speech had no admittance, And change the night to day. Sing, when His mighty mercies And marvellous love you feel, And the deep joy of gratitude Springs freshly as you kneel ; When words, like morning starlight, Melt powerless, rise and sing ! And bring your sweetest music To Him, your gracious King. Pour out your song before Him To whom our best is due ; Eemember, He who hears your prayer Will hear your praises too. The Ministry of Song. Sing on in grateful gladness ! Eejoice in this good thing Which the Lord thy God hath given thee, The happy power to sing. But yield to Him, the Sovereign, To whom all gifts helong, In fullest consecration, Your Ministry of Song, Until His mercy grant you That resurrection voice, Whose only ministry shall be To praise Him and rejoice. ''"Q. the hidden leaves of Life ! Closely folded in the heart ; Leaves where Memory's golden finger, Slowly pointing, loves to linger ; Leaves that bid the old tears start. Leaves where Hope would read the future. Sibylline, and charged with fate ; Leaves which calm Submission closeth, While her tearless eye reposetli On the legend, ' Trust, and wait ! ' Leaves which grave Experience ponders, Soundings for her pilot-charts ; Leaves which God Himself is storing, Becords which we read, adoring Him who writes on human hearts. Our Hidden Leaves. All our own, our treasured secrets. Indestructible archives ! None can copy, none can steal them. Death itself shall not reveal them, Sacred manuscripts of lives. vSome are filled with fairy pictures. Half imagined and half seen ; Eadiant faces, fretted towers, Sunset colours, starry flowers, Wondrous arabesques between. Some are traced with liquid sunbeams, Some with fire, and some with tears; Some with crimsoh dyes are glowing, From a smitten life-rock flowing Through the wilderness of yearte. Some are crossed with later, writing. Palimpsests of earliest days ; Old remembrance faintly gleaming Through the thinking and the dreaming, ' Outlines dim in noontide haze. One lies open, all unwritten. To the glance of careless sight ; Yet it bears a shining story, Traced in phosphorescent glory, Only legible by night. One is dark with hieroglyphics Of some dynasty of grief : The Ministry of Song. Only God, and just one other, Dearest friend or truest brother, Ever read that hidden leaf. Many a leaf is undeciphered, Writ in languages unknown ; O'er the strange inscription bending, (Every clue in darkness ending,) Finding no ' Eosetta Stone,' Still v(re study, always failing ! God can read it, we must wait ; Wait until He teach the mystery, Then the wisdom- woven history Faith shall read, and Love translate. Leaflets, now unpaged and scattered. Time's great library receives ; When eternity shall bind them. Golden' volumes we shall find them, God's light falling on the leaves. Threefold Praise. SrijrerfoHr praise. Hatdn—Mekdelssohn— Handel. 'We bless Thee for our creation, preservation, and all the blessings of this life ; but above all, for Thine inestimable love in the redemption of the world by our Lord Jesus Christ.' [HAT is the first and simplest praise, The universal debt, Which yet the thoughtless heart of man So quickly may forget ? ' We bless Thee for creation ! ' So taught the noble band Who left a sound and holy form. For ages yet to stand, Eich legacy of praise and prayer, Laid up through ages past, Strong witness for the truth of God : Oh, may we hold it fast ! lO The Ministry of Song. ' We bless Thee for creation ! ' So are we blithely taught By Haydn's joyous spirit ; Such was the praise lie brought. A praise all morning sunshine, And sparklets of the spring, O'er which the long life-shadows No chastening softness fling. A praise of early freshness, Of carol and of trill, Ee-echoing all the music Of valley and of rill. A praise th^t we are sharing With every singing breeze. With nightingales and linnets, With waterfalls and trees ; With anthems of the flowers, Too delicate and sweet For all their fairy minstrelsy Our mortal ears to greet. A mighty song of blessing Archangels too uplift, For their own bright existence, A grand and glorious gift. But such their full life-chalice, So sparkling and so pure. And such their vivid sense of joy. Sweet, solid, and secure. We cannot write the harmonies To such a song of bliss, W^e only catch the melody. And sing, content with this. Threefold Praise. \ i We are but little children. And earth a broken toy ; We do not know the treasures In our Father's house of joy. Thanksgivings for creation We ignorantly raise ; We know not yet the thousandth part ■ Of that for which we praise. Yet, praise Him for creation ! Nor cease the happy song, Bat this our Hallelujah Through all our life prolong ; 'Twill mingle with the chorus Before the heavenly throne. Where what it truly is TO be Shall first be fully known. PART II. preservation, and all tlie blessings of this life." MinMmlm's 'Mijah,' FELIX! happy in thy varied store Of harmonies undreamt before, How different was the gift Of praise 'twas thine to pour, Whether in stately calm, or tempest strong and swift ! fl. 12 The Ministry of Song. Mark the day, In mourning robe of grey, Of shrouded mountain and of storm-swept vale, And purple pall spread o'er the distance pale, While thunderous masses wildly drift In lurid gloom and grandeur : then a swift And dazzling ray bursts through a sudden rift ; The dark waves glitter as the storms subside. And all is light and glory at the eventide. sunlight of thanksgiving ! Who that knows Its bright forth-breaking after dreariest days, Would change the after-thought of woes For memory's loveliest light that glows, If so he must forego one note of that sweet praise ' For not the song ; Which knows no minor cadence, sad and long; I And not the tide Whose emerald and silver pride Was never dashed in wild and writhing fray, X Where grim and giant rocks hurl back the spray j S> And not the crystal atmosphere. That carves each outline sharp and clear Upon a sapphire sky : not these, not these, Nor aught existing but to charm and please, Without acknowledging life's mystery, And all the mighty reign Of yearning and of pain That fills its half-read history. Fit music can supply To lift the wandering heart on high ' To that Preserving Love, which rules all change, And gives ' all blessings of this life,' so dream-like and so strange. Threefold Praise. 1 3 And his was praise Deeper and truer, such as those may raise Who know both shade and sunlight, and whose life Hath learnt victorious strife Of courage and of trust and hope still dear, With passion and with grief, with danger and with fear. Upriseth now a cry. Plaintive and piercing, to the brazen sky : Help, Lord ! the harvest days are gone ; Help, Lord ! for other help is none ; The infant children cry for bread, And no man breaketh it. The suckling's tongue for thirst Now cleaveth to his mouth. Our land is cursed ; Our wasted Zion mourns, in vain her hands are spread. A mother's tale of grief, Of sudden blight upon the chief. The vdy flower of love that cheered her widowed need : loneliest ! desolate indeed ! Were it not mockery to whisper here A word of hope and cheer % A mountain brow, an awe-struck crowd. The prayer-sent flame, the prayer-sent cloud, A mighty faith, a more than kingly power. Changed for depression's darkest hour ; For one lone shadow in the desert sought A fainting frame, a spirit overwrought, A sense of labour vain, and strength all spent for nought. Death hovering near, With visible terror-spear Of famine, or a murder-stained sword, A stricken land forsaken of her Lord ; 14 77^1? Ministry of Song. V¥hlle, bowed with doubled fear, The faithful few appear ; O sorrows manifold outpoured ! Is blessing built upon such dark foundation ? And can a temple rising from suoh woe, Eising upon such mournful crypts below, Be filled with light and joy and sounding adoration 1 strange mosaic ! wondrously inlaid Are all its depths of shade, With beauteous stones of promise, marbles fair Of trust and calm, and flashing brightly, there The precious gems of praise are set, and shine Eesplendent with a light that almost seems Divine. Thanks be to God ! The thirsty land He laveth, The perishing He saveth ; The floods lift up their voices, The answering earth rejoices. Thanks be to Him, and never-ending laud, For this new token of His bounteous love, Who reigns in might the waterfloods above The gathering waters rush along ; And leaps the exultant shout, one cataract of ^ong. Thanks be to God ! Thus joyously we sing ; Nor is this all the praise we bring. We need not wait for earthquake, storm, and fire To lift our praises higher ; Nor wait for heaven-dawn ere we join the hymn Of throne-surrounding cherubim ; For even on earth their anthem hath begun. To Him, the Mighty and the Ploly One. Threefold Praise. \ 5 We know the still small Voice in many a word Of guidance, and command, and promise heard ; And, knowing it, we how before His feet. With love and awe the seraph-strain repeat. Holy, Holy, Holy ! God the Lord ! His glory fills the earth. His name be all-adored. Lord, our Lord ! how excellent Thy name Throughout this universal fraine j Therefore Thy children rest Beneath the shadow of Thy wings, A shelter safe and blest ; And tune their often tremulous strings Thy love to praise, Thy glory to proclaim, The Merciful, the Gracious One, eternally The Same. PART III. Ijtit above all, for Thine inestimable love in the redemption of the world by our Lord Jesus Christ.' HitndeVs * Messiali.' USH ! for a master harp is tuned again. In truest unison with choirs above, For prelude to a loftier, sweeter strain, The praise of God's inestimable love ; Who sent redemption to a world of woe, That all a Father's heart His banished ones might know. V Hush ! while on silvery wing of holiest song Floats forth the old, dear story of our peace, — His coming, the Desire of Ages long, To wear our chains, and win our glad release. Our wondering joy, to hear such tidings blest. Is crowned with ' Come to Him, and He will give you rest' 1 6 Tlie Ministry of Song. Rest, by His sorrow ! Bruised for our sin, Behold the Lamb of God ! His death our life. Now lift your heads, ye gates ! He entereth in, Christ risen indeed, and Conqueror in the strife. Thanks, thanks to Him who won, and Him who gave Such victory of love, such triumph o'er the grave. Hark ! ' Hallelujah ! ' sublimest strain ! Is it prophetic echo of the day When He, our Saviour and our King, shall reign. And all the earth shall own His righteous sway % Lift heart and voice, and swell the mighty chords, While hallelujahs peal to Him, the Lord of lords ! ' Worthy of all adoration Is the Lamb that once was slain,' Cry, in raptured exultation, His redeemed from every nation ; Angel myriads join the strain, Sounding from their sinless strings Glory to the King of kings ; Harping, with their harps of gold, Praise which never can be told. Hallelujahs full and swelling Eise around His throne of might, All our highest laud excelling ; Holy and Immortal, dwelling In the imapproached light. He is worthy to receive All that heaven and earth can give ; Blessing, honour, glory, might, All are His by glorious right. Not Yet. 17 As the sound of many waters Let the full Amen arise ! Hallelujah ! Ceasing never, Sounding through the great for kver, Linking all its harmonies ; Through eternities of bliss, Lord, our rapture shall be this. And our endless life shall be One Amen of praise to Thee. Not yet thou knowest what I do, feeble child of earth, Whose life is but to angel view The morning of thy birth ! The smallest leaf, the simplest flower. The wild bee's honey-ceU, Have lessons of My love and power ' Too hard for thee to spell. Thou knowest not how I uphold The little thou dost scan ; And how much less canst thou unfold My universal plan. Where all thy mind can grasp of space Is but a grain of sand ; — • The time thy boldest thought can ticace, One ripple on the strand ! B I.) The Ministry of Song. Not yet thou knowest what I do In this wild, warring world, Whose prince doth still triumphant view Confusion's flag unfurled ; Nor how each proud and daring thought Is subject to My will. Each strong and secret purpose brought My counsel to fulfil. Not yet thou knowest how I bid Each passing hour entwine Its grief or joy, its hope or fear, In one great love-design ; Nor how I lead thee through the night, By many a various way, y\-'- Still upward to unclouded light, 'I'rjr^-, And onward to the day. Not yet thou knowest what I do Within thine own weak breast. To mould thee to My image true, And fit thee for My rest. But yield thee to My loving skill ; The veilfed work of grace, From day to day progressing still, It is not thine to trace. Yes, walk by faith and not by sight, Fast clinging to My hand ; Cbntent to feel My love and might. Not yet to understand. A little while thy course pursue, Till grace to glory grow ; Then what I am, and what I do. Hereafter thou shalt know. Thanksgiving. '9 Ei)anfesgibing. HANKS be to God ! to wliom earth owes Sunshine and breeze, The heath-clad hill, the vale's repose, • Streamlet and seas, The snowdrop and the summer rose. The many-voic6d trees. Thanks for the darkness that reveals Night's starry dower ; And for the sable cloud that heals Each fevered flower ; And for the rushing storm that peals Our weakness and Thy power. Thanks for the sweetly-lingering might In music's tone ; For paths of knowledge, whose calm light Is all Thine own ; For thoughts that at the Infinite Fold their bright wings alone. Yet thanks that silence oft may flow In dewlike store ; Thanks for the mysteries that show How small our lore ; 20 The Ministry of Song. Thanks that we here so little know, And trust Thee all the more ! Thanks for the gladness that entwines Our path below ; Each sunrise that incarnadines The cold, still snow ; Thanks for the light of love which shines With brightest earthly glow. ihanks for the sickness and the grief Which none may flee ; For loved ones standing noW^ around The crystal sea ; And for the weariness of heart Which only rests in Thee. Thanks for Thine own thrice-blessed Word. And Sabbath rest ; Thanks for the hope of glory stored In mansions blest ; Thanks for the Spirit's comfort poured Into the trembling breast. Thanks, more than thanks, to Him ascend, Who died to win Our life, and every trophy rend From Death and Sin ; Till, when the thanks of Earth shall end. The thanks of Heaven begin. Note.— It may 'be well to say, that theso verses were in print before the writer ■ either saw or heard of the beautiful little poem by Adelaide Procter on the same theme. Lifc-CrystaU. The world is full of crystals. Swift, or slow. Or dark, or bright their varying formation ; From pure calm heights of fair untroddeii snow, To fire-wrought depths of earliest creation. And life is full of crystals ; forming still In myriad-shaped results from good and seeming ill. Yes ! forming everywhere ; in busiest street, In noisiest throng. Oh, how it would astound us, The strange soul-chemistry of some we meet In slight and passing talk ! For all around us. Deep inner silence broods o'er gems to be. Now, in three visioned hearts trace out the work with me ! A heart that wonderingly received the flow Of marvels and of mysteries of being. Of sympathies and tensions, joy and woe, Each earnestly from baser substance freeing : A great life-mixture, full, and deep,, and strong : A sudden touch, and lo ! it crystallized in song. Then forth it flashed among the souls of men Its own prismatic radiance, brightly sealing A several rainbow for each several ken ; The secrets of the distant stars revealing ; Reflecting many a heart's clear rays unknown, And, freely shedding light, it analysed their own. A heart from which all joy had ebbed away, And grief jioured in a flood of burning anguish. Then sealed the molten glow ; till, day by day, The fires without, within, begin to languish : Then ' afterward ' came coolness ; all was well, And from the broken crust a shining crystal fell. The Ministry of Song. A mourner found, and fastened on her breast The soft-hued gem, the prized by mourners only ; With sense of treasure gained she sought lier rest, No longer wandering in the twilight lonely ; The sorrow-crystal glittering in the dark, While faith and hope shone out to greet its starry spark. A heart where emptiness seemed emptier made By colourless remains of tasteless pleasure ; ONE came, and pitying the hollow shade, Poured in His own strong love in fullest measure ; Then shadowed it with silent-falling night, And stilled it with the solemn Presence of His might. A little while, then found the Master there Love-crystals sparkling in the joyous morning ; He stooped to gaze, and smiled to own them fair, A treasured choice for His own rich adorning ; Then set them in His diadem above. To mingle evermore with His own lio-ht and love. i^ot gotir ©ixin. OT your own ! ' but His ye are. Who hath paid a price untold For your life, exceeding far All earth's store of gems and gold. AVith the precious blood of Christ, Hansom treasure all unpriced. Full redemption is procured, Full salvation is assured. Not your Own. ' Not your own ! ' but His by right, His peculiar treasure now, Fair and precious in His sight, Purchased jewels for his brow. He -will keep what thus He sought. Safely guard the dearly bought, Cherish that which He did choose. Always love and never lose. ' Not your own ! ' but His, the King- His, the Lord of earth and sky — His, to whom archangels bring Homage deep and praises high. What can royal birth bestow 1 Or the proudest titles show 1 Can such dignity be known As the glorious name, ' His own ! ' ' Not your own ! ' to Him ye owe All your life and all your love ; Live, that ye His praise may show, Who is yet all praise above. Every day and every hour. Every gift and every power. Consecrate to Him alone. Who hath claimed you for His OAvn. Teacb us. Master, how to give All we have and are to Thee ; Grant us. Saviour, while we live. Wholly, only, Thine to be. Henceforth be our calling high. Thee to serve and glorify ; Ours no longer, but Thine own. Thine for ever, Thine alone ! 24 The Ministry of Song. osc I am, I ESUS, Master, whose I am, Purchased Thine alone to be, By Thy blood, spotless Lamb, Shed so willingly for me ; Let my heart be all Thine own, Let me live to Thee alone. Other lords have long held sway ; Now, Thy name alone to bear. Thy dear voice alone obey, Is my daily, hourly jsrayer. Whom have I in heaven but Thee % Nothing else my joy can be. Jesus, Master ! I am Thine ; Keep me faithful, keep me near ; Let thy presence in me shine All my home\vard way to cheer. Jesus ! at Thy feet I fall, Oh, be Thou my All-in-all. W/win I Serve. 25 Slfjam i Ser&e, ESXJS, Master, whom I serve, Though so feebly and so ill, Strengthen hand and heart and nerve, All Thy bidding to fulfil; Open Thou mine eyes to see All the work Thou hast for me. Lord, Thou needest not, I know, , Service such as I can bring ; Yet I long to prove and show Full allegiance to my King. Thou an honour^ art to me, Let me be a praise to Thee. Jesus, Master ! wilt Thou use One who owes Thee more than all 1 As Thou wilt ! I would not choose, Only let me hear Thy call. Jesus ! let me always be In Thy service glad and free. See marginal reading of 1 Peter ii. 7. The Ministry of Song. ^ e a c E. Is this the Peace of God, this strange, sweet calm % The weary day is at its zenith still, Yet 'tis as if beside some cool, clear rill, Through shadowy stillness rose an evening psalm. And all the noise of life were hushed away, And tranquil gladness reigned with gently soothing swaj'. It was not so just now. I turned aside With aching head, and heart most sorely bowed ; Around me cares and griefs in crushing crowd. While inly rose the sense, in swelling tide, Of weakness, insufficiency, and sin. And fear, and gloom, and doubt in mighty flood rolled in. That rushing flood I had no strength to meet, Nor power to flee : my present, future, past, My self, my sorrow, and my sin I cast In utter helplessness at Jesu's feet ; Then bent me to the storm, if such His will. He saw the winds and waves, and whispered, ' Peace, be still ! And there was calm ! Saviour, I have proved That Thou to help and save art really near ! How else this quiet rest from grief, and fear. And all distress ? The cross is not removed ; I must go forth to bear it as before, But, leaning on Thine arm, I dread its weight no more. Peace. ; Is it indeed Thy Peace ? I have not tried To analyse my faith, dissect my trast, Or measure if belief be full and just, And therefore claim Thy Peace. But Thou hast died ; 1 know that this is true, and true for me, And, knowing it, I come, and cast my all on Thee. It is not that I feel less weak, but Thou Wilt be my strength ; it is not that I see Less sin, but more of pardoning love with Thee, And all-sufficient grace. Enough ! And now All fluttering thought is stilled ; I only rest, And feel that Thou art near, and know that I am blest. ^^' ■28 The Ministry of Song. n toll's Jlessagc. TO HIM THAT IS FAR OFF. Peace, peace ! To liiiu that is far away. Turn, wanderer ! why wilt thou die, When the peace is made that shall bring thee nigh ? Listen, rebel ! the heralds proclaim The King's own peace through a Saviour's name j Then yield thee to-day. Peace, peace ! The word of the Lord to thee, eace, for thy passion and restless pride. For thy endless cravings all unsupplied, Peace for thy weary and sin-worn breast ; He knows the need who lias promised rest, And the gift is free. Peace, peace ! Through Him who for all hath died ! Wider the terms than thy deepest guilt. Or in vain were the blood of our Surety spilt : Even because thou art far away, To thee is the message of peace to-day, Peace through the Crucified. Goit's Messasce. 29 ©oU's ilessage, AND TO HIM THAT IS NEAR. Peace, peace ! Yea, peace to liim that is near. The crown is set on the Victor's brow. For thy warfare is accomplished now ; And for thee eternal peace is made By the Lord on whom thy sins were laid : Tlien why shouldst thou fear 1 Peace, peace ! Wrought by the Spirit of Might. In thy deepest sorrow and sorest strife. In the changes and chances of mortal life, It is thine, beloved ! Christ's own bequest. Which vainly the Tempter shall strive to wrest; ^ It is now thy right. Peace, peace ! Look for its bright increase, Deepening, widening, year by year, Like a sunlit river, strong, calm, and clear ; Lean on His love through this earthly vale. For His word and His work shall never fail, And 'He is our Peace.' The Ministry of Song. HERE is a liusli in earth and sky, The ear is free to list aright In darkness, veiling from the eye The many-coloured spells of light. Not heralded by fire and storm, In shadowy outline dimly seen, Comes through the gloom a glorious Form, The once despised Nazarene. Through waiting silence, voiceless shade, A still, small Voice so clearly floats, A listening lifetime were o'erpaid By one sweet echo of such notes. • Fear not, belovfed ! thou art Mine, For I have given My life for thee ; By name I call thee, rise and shine. Be praise and glory unto Me. ' In Me all spotless and complete, And in My comeliness most fair Art thou ; to Me thy voice is sweet, Prevailing in thy feeblest prayer. A Great Mystery. 31 ' Thy life is liid in God with Me, I stoop to dwell within thy breast ; My joy for ever thou shalt be, And in My love for thee I rest. sy ' Prince's daughter, whom I see In bridal garments, pure as light, Betrothed for ever unto Me, On thee My own new name I write.' Lo ! 'neath the stars' uncertain ray In flowing mantle glistening fair. One, lowly bending, turns away From that sweet voice in cold despair. Is it Humility, who sees Herself unworthy of such grace, Who dares not hope her Lord to please, Who dares not look upon His face ? Nay, where that mantle fleeting gleams, 'Tis Unbelief who turns aside. Who rathfer rests in self-spun dreams. Than trust the love of Him who died. m Faith casts away the fair disguise, She will not doubt her Master's voice. And droop when He hath bid her rise. Or mourn when He hath said, ' Rejoice ! ' Her stained and soilfed robes she leaves, And Christ's own shining raiment takes ; AVhat His love gives, her love receives. And meek and trustful answer makes : u-^ 3^ The Ministry of Song. ' Behold the handmaid of the Lord ! Thou caDest, and I come to Thee •■ According to Thy faithful word, Master, be it unto me ! ' Thy love I cannot comprehend, 1 only know Thy word is true. And that Thou lovest to the end Each whom to Thee the Father drew. ' Oh ! take the heart I could not give Without Thy strength-bestowing call ; In Thee, and for Thee, let me live. For I am nothing. Thou art all.' aSe not amearg. ! He knows the way is dreary. Knows the weakness of our frame, Knows that hand and heart are weary ; '^^ He, ' in all points,' felt the same. He is near to help and bless ; Be not weary, onward press. Look to Him who once was willing All His glory to resign, That, for thee the law fulfilling, All His merit might be thine. Be not Weary. 33 Strive to follow day by day Where His footsteps mark the way Look to Him, the Lord of glory, Tasting death to win thy life ; Gazing on that ' wondrous story,' Canst thou falter in the strife 1 Is it not new life to know That the Lord hath loved thee so \ Look to Him who ever liveth, Interceding for His own ; Seek, yea, claim the grace He giveth Freely from His priestly throne. Will He not thy strength renew With His Spirit's quickening dew 1 Look to Him, and faith shall brighten, Hope shall soar, and love shall burn ; Peace once more thy heart shall lighten ; Rise ! He calleth thee ! return ! Be not weary on thy way, Jesus is thy strength and stay. 34 The Ministry of Song. LOVE to feel that I am taught, And, as a little child. To note the lessons I have learnt In passing through the wild. For I am sure God teaches me, And His own gracious hand Each varying page before me spreads. By love and wisdom planned. I often think I cannot spell The lesson I must learn, And then, in weariness and doubt, I pray the page may turn ; But time goes on, and soon I iind I was learning all the while, And words which seemed most dimly traced Shine out with rainbow smile. Or sometimes strangely I forget, And, learning o'er and o'er A lessoli all with tear-drops wet. Which I had learnt before, He chides me not, but waits awhile. Then wipes my heavy eyes : Oh, what a Teacher is our God, So patient and so wise ! The Great Teacher. 35 Dark silent hours of study fall, And I can scarcely see ; Then one beside me whispers low What is so hard to me. 'Tis easier then ! I am so glad I am not taught alone ; It is such help to overhear A lesson like my own. Sometimes the Master gives to me A strange new alphabet ; I wonder what its use will be, Or why it need be set. And then I find this tongue alone Some stranger ear can reach. One whom He may commission me For Him to train or teach. If others sadly bring to me A lesson hard and new, I often find that helping them ■ Has made me learn it too. Or, had I learnt it long before. My toil is overpaid, If so one tearful eye may see One lesson plainer made. We do not see our Teacher's face, We do not hear His voice, And yet we know that He is near. We feel it, and rejoice. There is a music round our hearts, Set in no mortal key ; There is a Presence with our souls, AVe know that it is He. 36 The Ministry of Song. His loving teaching cannot fail ; And we shall know at last Each task that seemed so hard and strange, When learning time is past. Oh ! may we learn to love Him more, By every opening page; By every lesson He shall mark With daily ripening age. And then, to ' know as we are known Shall be our glorious prize. To see the Teacher who hath been So patient and so wise. O joy untold ! Yet not alone Shall ours the gladness be ; The travail of His soul in us Our Saviour-God shall see. Rest. 37 EESt * Thou hast made us for Thyself* and the heart never resteth till it flndeth rest in Thee. '- .S(. AMgusUnz^ Made for Thyself, God ! Made for Thy love, Thy service, Thy delight ; Made to show forth Thy wisdom, grace, and might ; Made for Thy praise, whom veiled archangels laud ; O strange and glorious thought, that we may be A joy to Thee ! Yet the heart turns away From this grand destiny of bliss, and deems 'Twas made for its poor self, for passing dreams, Chasing illusions melting day by day ; Till for ourselves we read on this world's best, ' This is not rest ! ' Nor can the vain toil cease. Till in the shadowy maze of life we meet One who can guide our aching, wayward feet To find Himself, our Way, our Life, our Peace. In Him the long unrest is soothed and stilled ; Our hearts are filled. rest, so true, so sweet 1 (Would it were shared by all the weary world !) 'Neath shadowing banner of His love unfurled. We bend to kiss the Master's pierced feet ; Then lean our love upon His loving breast, And know God's rest. 38 The Ministry of Song. A ©ne ©uEStioit, Jlans anstocrs. HAT wouldstthoube?' The question hath wakened wild thoughts in me, /(9And a thousand responses, like ghosts from their graves, ■ Arise from my soul's unexplored deep caves. The echoes of every varying mood, Of a wayward spirit all unsubdued ; / The voices which thrill through my inmost breast May tell me of gladness, but not of rest. What wouldst thou be ? 'Tis well that the answer is not for me. ' What wouldst thou be % ' An eagle soaring rejoicingly. One who may rise on the lightning's wing, Till our wide, wide world seem a tiny thing ; Who may stand on the confines of boundless space. And the giant form of the universe trace, While its full grand harmonies swell around. And grasp it all with mind profound. Such would I be, Only stayed by infinity. ' What wouldst thou be ? A bright incarnation of melody. One whose soul is a fairy lute, Waking such tones as bid all be mute, One Question, Many Answers. 39 Breathing such notes as may silence woe, Pouring such strains as make joy o'erflow, Speaking in music the heart's deep emotion, Soothing and swieet as the shell of the ocean. Such would I be. Like a fountain of music, all pure and free. ' What wouldst thou be ? ' A living blossom of poesy. A soul of mingled power and light, Evoking images rare and bright. Fair and pure as an angel's dream ; Touching all with a heavenly gleam. And royally claiming from poet-throne Earth's treasure of beauty as all mine own. Such would I be — My childhood's dream in reality ! ' What wouldst thou be 1 ' A wondrous magnet to all I see. A spirit whose power may touch and bind With unconscious influence every mind ; Whose presence brings, like some fabled wand. The love which a monarch may not command, As the spring awakens from cold repose The bloomless brier, the sweet wild rose. Such would I be. With the love of all to encircle me ! ' \ATiat wouldst thou be % ' A wavelet just rising from life's wide sea. I would I were once again a child. Like a laughing floweret on mountains wild ; In the fa ry realms of fancy dwelling, The golden moments for sunbeams selling ; 40 The Ministry of Song. Ever counting on bright to-morrows, And knowing nought of unspoken sorrows. Such would I be, A sparkling cascade of untiring glee. ' What wouldst thou be ? ' A blessing to each one surrounding me ; A chalice of dew to the weary heart, A sunbeam of joy bidding sorrow depart, To the storm-tossed vessel a beacon light, A nightingale song in the darkest night, A beckoning hand to a far-off goal, An angel of love to each friendless soul : Such would I be. Oh that such happiness were for me ! ' What wouldst thou be ? ' With these alone were no rest for me. I would be my Saviour's loving child, With a heart set free from its passions wild, Rejoicing in Him and His own sweet ways ; An echo of heaven's unceasing praise, A mirror here of His light and love, And a polished gem in His crown above. Such would I be, Thine, O Saviour, and one with Thee ! ^■ •'-'»'>■. LIKE A LAUlilllNIi FLDWERET ON MOUNTAINS WJLD," Content. 4 1 Content. ' " What wouldst thou.be 1 " A wavelet just rising from life's wide sea. I would I were once again a child, Like a laughing floweret on mountains wild ; In the fairy realms of fancy dwelling, The golden moments for sunbeams selling ; Ever counting on bright to-morrows, And knowing nought of unspoken sorrows : Such would I be, A sparkling cascade of untiring glee.' Not so, not so ! For longings change as the full years flow. AVhen I had but taken a step or two From the fairy regions still in view ; ~ While their playful breezes fanned me still At every pause on the steeper hill. And the blossoms showered from every shoot. Showered and fell, and yet no fruit, — It was grief and pain That I never could be a child again. Not so, not so ! Back to my life-dawn I would not go. A little is lost, but more is won, As the sterner work of the day is done. We forget that the troubles of childish days Were once gigantic in morning haze. There is less of fancy, but more of truth. For we lose the mists with the dew of youth ; And a rose is born On many a spray which seemed only thorn. 42 The Ministry of Song. Not so, not so ! While the years of childhood glided slow, There was all to receive and nothing to give Is it not better for others to live ? And happier far than merriest games Is the joy of our new and nobler aims : Then fair fresh flowers, now lasting gems ; Then wreaths for a day, but now diadems. For ever to shine, Bright in the radiance of Love Divine. Not so, not so ! I would not again be a child, I know ! But were it not pleasant again to stand On the border-line of that fairy land, — Feeling so buoyant and blithe and strong, Fearing no slip as we bound along, Halting at will in the sunshine to bask, Deeming the journey an easy task. While Courage and Hope Smooth with ' Come, see, and conquer ' each emerald slope ? Not so, not so ! Less leaping flame, but a deeper glow ! - There is more of sorrow, but more of joy. Less glittering ore, but less alloy ; There is more of pain, but more of balm, And less of pleasure, but more of calm ; Many a hope all spent and dead. But higher and brighter hopes instead ; Less risked, more won ; Less planned and dreamed, but perhaps more done. Misunderstood. 43 Not so, not so ! Not in stature and learning alone we grow. Though we no more look from year to year For power of mind more strong and clear, Though the table-land of life we tread No widening view before us spread, No sunlit summits to lure ambition, But only the path of a daily mission. We would not turn Where the will-o'-the-wisps of our young dreams burn. Then be it so ! For in better things we yet may grow. Onward and upward still our way, With the joy of progress from day to day ; Nearer and nearer every year To the visions and hopes most true and dear ; Children still of a Father's love. Children still of a home above ! Thus we look back. Without a sigh, o'er the lengthening track. JHtsimlrerstooK. ' ' People do not understand me. Their ideas are not like mine ; All advances seem to land me ^ Still outside their guarded shrine.' So you turn from simple joyance, Losing many a mutual good. Weary with the chill annoyance So to be misunderstood. 44 The Ministry of Song. m Let me try to lift the curtain Hiding other hearts from view ; You complain, but are you certain That the fault is not with you % In the sunny summer hours, Sitting in your quiet room. Can you wonder if the flowers Breathe for you no sweet perfume ] True, you see them bright and pearly With the jewelry of morn ; But their fragrance, fresh and early, Is not through your window borne. You must go to them, and stooping, Cull the blossoms where they live ; On your bosom gently drooping, All their treasure they will give. Who would guess what fragrance lingers In verbena's pale green show ! Press the leaflet in your fingers, All its sweetness you will know. Few the harps -iEolian, sending Unsought music on the wind : Love and skill are ever blending. Music's full response to find. ' But my key-note,' are you thinking, ' Will not modulate to theirs ' ? Seek! and subtle chords enlinking, Soon shall blend the differing airs. Fairly sought, some point of contact There must be with every mind ; ) I SUNBEAM AKD DEWDROP. Misunderstood. 45 And, perchance, the closest compact Where we least expect we find. Perhaps the heart you meet so coldly Burns with deepest lava-glow; Wisely pierce the crust, and boldly, And a fervid stream shall flow. Dialects of love are many, Though the language be but one ; Study all you can, or any, While life's precious school-hours run. Closed the heart-door of thy brother, All its treasure long concealed ? One key fails, then try another. Soon the rusty lock shall yield. Few have not some hidden trial, And could sympathize with thine ; Do not take it as denial That you see no outward sign. Silence is no certain token That no secret grief is there ; Sorrow which is never spoken Is the heaviest load to bear. Seldom can the heart be lonely If it seek a lonelier still, Self-forgetting, seeking only Emptier cups of love to fill. 'Twill not be a fruitless labour, Overcome this ill with good ; Try to widerstand your neighbour, And you will be understood. ^jm ^1 46- The Ministry of Song. WOiZ .Star Sf)oixier. "N,^ "d. ' November 14, 1866. H ! to raise a mighty shout^ And bid the sleepers all come out ! ' No dreamer's fancy, fair and high. Could image forth a grander sky. And oh for eyes of swifter power, To follow fast the starry shower ! Oh for a sweep of vision clear, To grasp at once a hemisphere ! W' The solemn old chorale of Night, With fullest chords of awful might, E,e-echoes still in stately march Throughout the glowing heavenly arch But harmonies all new and rare Are intermingling everywhere, Fantastic, fitful, fresh, and free ; A sparkling wealth of melody, A carol of sublimest glee, Is bursting from the starry chorus, In dazzling exultation o'er us. The Star Shower. 47 O wondrous sight ! so swift, so bright, Like sudden thrills of strange delight ; As if the stars were all at play. And kept ecstatic holiday ; As if it were a jubilee Of glad millenniums fully told. Or universal sympathy With some new-dawning age of gold. Flashing from the lordly lion. Flaming under bright Procyon ; From the farthest east up-ranging. Past the blessed orb^ unchanging ; Ursa's brilliance far out-gleaming. From the very zenith streaniing ; Hushing, as in joy delirious, To the pure white ray of Sirius ; Past Orion's belted splendour. Past Capella, clear and tender ; Lightening dusky Polar regions. Brightening pale encircling legions ; Lines of fiery glitter tracing. Parting, meeting, interlacing; Paling every constellation With their radiant revelation ! All we heard of meteor, glory Is a true and sober story ; Who will not for life remember This night grandeur of November ? ' ' That admirable Polar Star, which is a ilessi/ng to astronomers, Professor Airy's * Popxdar Lectures on Astronomy,' 48 The Ministry of Song. 'Tis over now, the once-seen, dream-like sight ! With gradual hand the^clear and breezy dawn Hath o'er the marvels of the meteor night A veil of light impenetrable drawn. And earth is sweeping on through starless space, Nor may we once look back, the shining iield to trace. Ere next the glittering stranger-throng we meet, How many a star of life will seek the west ! Our century's dying pulse will faintly beat. The toilers of to-day will be at rest ; And little ones, who now but laugh and play, Will weary in the heat and burden of the day. Oh, is there nothing beautiful and glad But bears a message of decay and change ? So be it ! Though we call it stern and sad. Viewed by the torch of Love it. is not strange. 'Tis mercy that in Nature's every strain Deep warning tones peal out, in solemn, sweetTefrain. And have not all created things a voice For those who listen further, — whispers low To bid the children of the light rejoice In burning hopes they yet but dimly know % What will it be, all earthly darkness o'er. To shine as stars of God for ever — evermore ! Treasure Trove. 49 tKreasure Ero&e. PLAYED with the whispering rushes By a river of reverie, Flowing so quietly onward Into an unknown sea. And I watched the dreamy current, Till to my feet it brought. Glistening among the pebbles, The pearl of a fair new thought. New ! yet many another. Leaning over the stream, May have welcomed its sudden shining, And gazed on its gentle gleam. Long it must have been lying, Yet it is new to me. Oh, the treasures around us, If we could only see ! I have broken the smooth dark water Into ripples and circles bright, Lifting my pearl from the pebbles. Bearing away its light. so The Ministry of Song. I am so glad to have found it ! I shall treasure it safely awhile, It will brighten the niche that is darkest In my spirit's loneliest a,isle. And then, it may be, a dear one Will wear it a long, long time, Fastened firm on her bosom, In a setting of silver rhyme. A Comtns Summer. HAT will the summer bring % Sunshine and flowers. Brightness aiid melody, Golden-voiced hours ; Eose-gleaming mornings Vocal with praise ; Crimson-flushed evenings, Nightingale lays. What may the summer bring ] Gladness and mirth. Laughter and song. For the children of earth ; Smiles for the old man, Joy for the strong, Glee for the little ones All the day long. Coming Similiter. 51 What will the summer bring Coolness and shade, (' Eloquent stillness .( In thicket and glade ; Whispering breezes, w Fragrance oppressed ; Lingering twilight , w Soothing to rest. •^" What may the summer bring ? ■^i Y Freshness and calm, ^° the care-worn and troubled. Beauty and balm. 1 toil-weary spirit, ^AL Rest thee anew, For the heat of the world-race Summer hath dew ! What will the summer bring 1 -jk, 'J~ Sultry noon hours, ^^^tu ^ Lurid horizons, f Frowning cloud-towers ; Loud-crashing thunders, Tempest and hail. f Death-bearing lightnings, It brings without fail What may the summer bring ? /t Dimness and woe. Blackness of sorrow X^ Its bright days may know ; %■- Flowers may be wormwood. ^" Verdure a pall, The shadow of death < On the fairest may fall. 52 Tlie Ministry of Song. Is it not ever so ? Where shall we find Light that may cast No sliadow behind 1 Calm that no tempest May darkly await I Joy that no sorrow May swiftly abate ? Will the story of summer Be written in light, Or traced in the darkness Of storm-cloud and night ? We know not — we would not know Why should we quail ? Summer, we welcome thee ! Summer, all hail ! September X^^'^, N April burst of beauty, \ And a May like the Mays of old, And a glow of summer gladness While June her long days told ; And a hush of golden silence All through the bright July, Without one peal of thunder, Or a storm-wreath in the sky ; And a fiery reign of August, Till the moon was on the wane ; And then short clouded evenings, And a long and chilling rain. September 1868. S3 I thought the Summer was over, And the whole year's glory spent, And that nothing but fog and drizzle Could be for Autumn meant ; — Nothing but dead leaves, falling Wet on the dark, damp mould, Less and less of the sunshine, More and more of the cold But oh ! the golden day-time ; And oh ! the silver nights ', And the scarlet touch on the fir trunks Of the calm, grand sunset lights ; And the morning's bright revealings, Lifting the pearly mist, \ i Like a bridal veil, from the valley That the sun hath claimed and kissed ; ^- And oh ! the noontide shadows Longer and longer now, On the river margin resting, Like the tress on a thoughtful brow. -^'^ Eich fruitage bends the branches With amber, and rose, and gold, O'er the purple and crimson asters, And geraniums gay and bold. The day is warm and glowing, But the night is cool and sweet. And we fear no smiting arrows Of fierce and fatal heat. Tlie leaves are only dropping. Like flakes of a sunset cloud. And the robin's song is clearer Than Spring's own minstrel-crowd ; A soft new robe of greenness Decks every sunny mead, . ^j 54 The Ministry of Song. And we own that bright September Is beautiful indeed. Is thy life-summer passing % Think not thy joys are o'er ! Thou hast not seen what Autumn For thee may have in store. Calmer than breezy April, Cooler than August blaze, The fairest time of all may be September's golden days. Press on, though Summer waneth, And falter not nor fear, For God can make the Autumn The glory of the year. .'r; lEarlj) jFaitfj. Whom hear we tell of all the joy which loving Faith can bring. The ever-widening glories reached on her strong seraph wing % It is not oftenest they who long have wrestled with temptation, Or passed through fiery baptisms of mighty tribulatioi\ Perhaps, in life's great tapestry, the darkest scenes are where The golden threads of Faith glance forth most radiantand fair; And gazing on the coming years, which unknown griefs may bring, We hail the lamp which o'er them all shall heavenly lustre fling. Early Faith. tc Thank God ! there is at eventide a gleam of ruby light, A star of love amid the gloom of sorrow's lingering night, An ivy-wreath upon the tomb, a haven in the blast, A staff for weary, trembling ones, when youth and health are past. But shall we seek the diamonds in the lone and dusky mine, When 'mid the sunny sands of youth they wait to flash and shine ? Neglect the fountain of Christ's joy till woe-streams darkly flow, Nor seek a Father's smile until the world's cold frown we know] Nay ! be our faith the rosy crown on morn's unwrinkled brow, The sparkling dewdrop on the grass, the blossom on the bough ; The gleam of pearly light within the snowy- bosomed shell. An added power of loveliness in beauty's every spell. Oh, let it be the sunlight of the pleasant summer hours. That calls to pure and radiant birth unnumbered fragrant flowers ; That bathes in golden joyance every anthem-murmuring tree, And spreads a robe of glory o'er the silver-crested sea ! 1. 1 Oh, let it be the key-note of the symphony of gladness. Which wots not of the broken l3rre, the requiem of sadness : For they who melodies of heaven in hours of brightness know, Will modulate sweet harmony from earth's discordant woe. .•^©-: 56 The Ministry of Song. m ^^ ^^m ^ ©ur Jatljfr. k]|\<^^^ I^H that I loved the Father ^^tfi^^jr ^ With depth of conscious love, .^"^ ^^ As stedfast, bright, and burning As seraphim above ! But how can I be deeming y Myself a loving child, When here, and there, and everywhere. J My thoughts are wandering wild 1 ' It is my chief desirs To know Him more and more, To follow Him more fully Than I have done before : My eyes are dim with longing To see the Lord above ; But oh ! I fear, from year to year, I do not truly love. ' For when I try to follow The mazes of my soul, I find no settled fire of love Illumining the whole ; 'Tis all uncertain twilight. No clear and vivid glow : AVould I could bring to God my King The perfect love I owe ! ' Otcr Father. 57 The gift is great and holy, 'Twill not be sought in vain ; But look up for a moment From present doubt and pain, And calmly tell me how you love The dearest ones below. 'This love,' say you, 'is deep and true ! ' But tell me how you know. How do you love your father ? > ' Oh, in a thousand ways ! ^ I think there's no one like him, So worthy of my praise. I tell him all my troubles. And ask him what to do : I know that he will give to me His counsel kind and true. ' Then every little service Of hand, or pen, or voice. Becomes, if he has asked it, The service of my choice. And from my own desires 'Tis not so hard to part. If once I know I follow so His wiser will and heart. ' I know the flush of pleasure That o'er my spirit came. When, far from home with strangers, They caught my father's name j And for his sake the greeting Was mutual and sweet. For if they knew my father too. How glad we were to meet ! 5S The Ministry of Song. ' And when I heard them praising His music and his skill, His words of holy teaching, Life-preaching holier still, How eagerly I listened To every word that fell ! 'Twas joy to hear that name so dear Both known and loved so well. ' Onee I was ill and suffering Upon a foreign shore, And longed to see my father As I never longed before. He came : his arm around me ; I leant upon his Ireast ; I did not long to feel more strong. So sweet that childlike rest. ^ ' ' The thought of home is pleasant. Yet I should hardly care' To leave my present fair abode. Unless I knew him there. All other love and pleasure Can never crown the place ; A home to me it cannot be Without my father's face.' This is no fancy drawing, But every line is true. And you have traced as strong a love- As ever daughter knew. But though its fond expression Is rather lived than told, You do not say from day to day, ' I fear my love is cold ! ' Our Father. Yon do not think about it ; 'Tis never in your thought — ' I wonder if I love him As deeply as I ought ! I know his approbation Outweighs all other meed, Tliat his employ is always joy, But do I love indeed ? ' 59 Now let your own words teach you The higher, holier claim Of Him who condescends to bear A Father's gracious name. No mystic inspiration, No throbbings forced and wild He asks, but just the loving trust Of a glad and grateful child. The rare and precious moments Of realizing thrill Are but love's blissful blossom, To brighten, not to fill Tlie storehouse and the garner With ripe and pleasant fruit ; And not alone by these is shown The true and holy root. '' What if your own dear father Were summoned to his rest ! One lives, by whom that bitterest grief Could well be soothed and blessed. Like balm upon your sharpest woe His still small voice would fall ; His touch would heal, you could not feel That you had lost your all. io 6o The Ministry of Song. But what if He, the Lord of life, Could ever pass away ! What if His name were blotted out. And you could know to-day There was no heavenly Father, No Saviour dear and true, No throne of grace, no resting-place. No living God for you ! We need not dwell in horror On what can never be, Such endless desolation. Such undreamt misery. Our reason could not bear it. And all the love of earth. In fullest bliss, compared with this. Were nothing, nothing worth. Then bring your poor affection, And try it by this test ; The hidden depth is fathomed. You see you love Him best ! 'Tis but a feeble echo Of His great love to you, Yet in His ear each note is dear. Its harmony is true. It is an uncut jewel. All earth-encrusted now, But He will make it glorious, And set it on His brow : 'Tis but a tiny glimmer. Lit from the light above, But it shall blaze through endless days, A star of perfect love. Disappointment. 6i ©isappointmrnt. Our yet unfinished story Is tending all to this : To God the greatest glory, To us the greatest bliss. If all things work together For ends so grand and blest, What need to wonder whether Each in itself is best ? 62 The Ministry of Song. And learning to be humble Is not lost time at all. And when amid our blindness His disappointments fall, We trust His loving-kindness Whose wisdom sends them all. -J^ They are the purple fringes That hide His glorious feet ; They are the fire-wrought hinges Where truth and mercy meet : By them the goldfen portal Of Providence shall ope, And lift to praise immortal The songs of faith and hope. From broken alabaster Was deathless fragrance shed, The spikenard flowed the faster Upon the Saviour's head. No shattered box of ointment We ever need regret. For out of disappointment Flow sweetest odours yet. The discord that involveth Some startling change of key, The Master's hand resolveth In richest harmony. We hush our children's laughter When sunset hues grow pale ; Disappointment. 63 Then, in the silence after, They hear the nightingale. We mourned the lamp declining, That glimmered atj our side ;— The glorious starlight shining Has proved a surer guide. Then tremble not and shrink not When Disappointment nears ; Be trustful still, and think not To realize all fears. W^hile we are meekly kneeling, We shall behold her rise. Our Father's love revealing. An angel in disguise. 64 The Minislty of Song. ■■ You bear the chalice.' Is it so, my friend ? Have I indeed a chalice of sweet song, With underflow of harmony made strong, New calm of strength through throbbing veins to send \ I did not form or fill, — I do but spend That which the Master poured into my soul, His dewdrops caught in a poor earthen bowl, That service so with praise might meekly blend. May He who taught the morning stars to sing, Aye keep my chalice cool, and pure, and sweet. And grant me so with loving hand to bring Eefreshment to His weary ones, — to meet Their thirst with water from God's music-spring ; And, bearing thus, to pour it at His feet. Silent in Love. 65 Silent ix{, ILobe'. 'HE WILL KES'fl IN HIS LOVE.' Love culminates in bliss when it doth reach A white, unflickering, fear-consuming glow ; And, knowing it is known as it doth know Needs no assuring word or soothing speech. It craves hut silent nearness, so to rest, No sound, no movement, love not heard but felt. Longer and longer still, till time should melt A snowflake on the eternal ocean's breast. Have moments of this silence starred thy past, Made memory a glory-haunted place. Taught all the joy that mortal ken can trace % By greater light 'tis but a shadow cast ; — So shall the Lord thy God rejoice o'er thee, And in His love will rest, and silent be. t 66 The Ministry of Song. IGHT ! emblem of all good and joy ! Shade ! emblem of all ill ! And yet in this strange mingled life, We need the shadow still. A lamp with softly shaded light, To soothe and spare the tender sight, Will only throw A brighter glow Upon our books and work below. We could not bear unchanging day. However fair its light ; Ere long the wearied eye would hail. As boon untold, the evening pale, The solace of the night. And who would prize our summer glow If winter gloom we did not know % Or rightly praise The glad spring rays, Who never saw our rainy days % How grateful in Arabian plain Of white and sparkling sand, The shadow of a mighty rock Across the weary land ! Light and Shade. 67 And where the tropic glories rise, Responsive to the fiery skies, We could not dare To meet the glare, Or blindness were our bitter share. Where is the soul so meek and pure, Who through his earthly days Life's fullest sunshine gould endure. In clear and cloudless blaze ! The sympathetic eye would dim, And others pine unmarked by him, Were no chill shade Around him laid. And light of joy could never fade. lie who the light-commanding word Erst spake, and formed the eye, Knows what that wondrous eye can bear. And tempers with providing care, By cloud and night, all hurtful glare. By shadows ever nigh. So in all wise and loving ways He blends the shadows of our days, To win our sight From scenes of night, To seek the 'True and Only Light.' We need some shadow o'er our bliss, Lest we forget the Giver ; So, often iu our deepest joy There comes a solemn quiver 68 The Ministry of Song. We CQuld not tell from whence it came, The subtle cause we cannot name ; Its twilight fall May well recall Calm thought of Him who gave us all. There are who all undazzled tread Awhile the sunniest plain ; But they have sought the blessed shade By one great Eook of Ages made, A sure, safe rest to gain. Unshaded light of earth soon blinds To light of heaven sincerest minds.: Oh, envy not A cloudless lot ! "We ask indeed we know not what. So is it here, so is it now ! Not always -v^^ill it be ! There is a land that needs no shade, A morn will rise which cannot fade ; And we, like flame-robed angels made. That glory soon may see. No cloud upon its radiant joy. No shadow o'er its bright employ, No sleep, no night, But perfect sight. The Lord our Everlasting Light 1 '■TIlKIMi IS Nd UOSF, WITimUT A THORN.' No Thorn tvithotU a Rose. 69 iSo Cfjorn hjttijout a Eosc. HERE is no rose without a thorn ! ' , Who has not found this true, '" And known that griefs, of gladness born, Our footsteps still pursue ? That in the grandest harmony The strangest discords rise; The brightest bow we only trace Upon the darkest skies ? No thornless rose ! So, more and more, Our pleasant hopes are laid Where waves this sable legend o'er A still, sepulchral shade. But Faith and Love, with angel-might. Break up life's dismal tomb, Transmuting into golden light The words of leaden gloom. Reversing all this funeral pall, White raiment they disclose ; Their happy song floats full and long, ' No thorn without a rose ! ' 70 The Ministry of Song. ' No shadow, but its sister light Not far away must burn ! No weary night, but morning bright Shall follow in its turn. ' No chilly snow, but safe below A million buds are sleeping ; No wintry days, but fair spring rays Are swiftly onward sweeping. ' With fiercest glare of summer air Comes fullest leafy shade ; And ruddy fruit bends every shoot Because the blossoms fade. ' No note of sorrow, but shall melt "^ In sweetest chord unguessed ; No labour all too pressing felt, But ends in quiet rest. ' No sigh, but from the harps above Soft echoing tones shall win ; No heart- wound, but the Lord of Love Shall pour His comfort in. ' No withered hope, while loving best Thy Father's chosen way ; No anxious care, for He' will bear Thy burdens every day. ' Thy claim to rest on Jesu's breast All weariness shall be, And pain thy portal to His heart Of boundless sympathy. Chrisfs Recall. 7 1 ' No conflict, but the King's own hand Sliall end the glorious strife ; No death, but leads thee to the land Of everlasting life.' Sweet seraph voices, Faith and Love ! Sing on within our hearts This strain of music from above, Till we have learnt our parts ; Until we see your alchemy On all that years disclose. And, taught by you, still find it true, ' No thorn without a rose ! ' Christ's Eecall. Return ! O wanderer from my side ! Soon droops each blossom of the darkening wild, Soon melts each meteor which thy steps beguiled, Soon is the cistern dry which thou hast hewn. And thou wilt weep in bitterness full soon. Eetum ! ere gathering night shall shroud the way Thy footsteps yet may tread, in this accepted day. 72 The Ministry of Song. Eeturn ! erring, yet beloved ! I wait to bind thy bleeding feet, for keen And rankling are tbe thorns where thou hast been ; "I wait to give thee pardon, love, and rest ; Is not My joy to see thee safe and blest ? Eeturn ! I wait to hear once more thy voice, To welcome thee anew, and bid thy heart rejoice. Eeturn ! fallen, yet not lost ! Canst thou forget the Life for thee laid down, The taunts, the scourging, and the thorny crown ? "When o'er thee first My spotless robe I spread, And poured the oil of joy upon thy head, How did thy wakening heart within thee burn ! Canst thou remember all, and wilt thou not return ? ' Eeturn ! chosen of My love ! Fear not to meet thy beckoning Saviour's view , Long ere I called thee by thy name, I knew That very treacherously thou wouldst deal ; Now I have seen thy ways, yet I will heal. Eeturn ! Wilt thou yet linger far from Me ? Mj"- wrath is turned away, I have redeemed thee. iit% Faith's Question. 73 Jaitlj's ©uestton. whom, O Saviour, shall we go For life, and joy, and light ? No help, no comfort from below, No lasting gladness we may know, No hope may bless our sight. Our souls are weary and athirst, But earth is iron-bound and cursed. And nothing she may yield can stay The restless yearnings day by day ; Yet, without Thee, Eedeemer blest, AVe would not, if we could, find rest. To whom, Saviour, shall we go ? We gaze around in vain. Though pleasure's fairy lute be strung. And mirth's enchaining lay be sung, We dare not trust the strain. The touch of sorrow or of sin Hath saddened all, without, within ; What here we fondly love and prize. However beauteous be its guise. Has passed, is passing, or may pass, Like frost-fringe on the autumn grass. 74 The Ministry of Song. To whom, Saviour, shall we go % Our spirits dimly wait, Imprisoned in our mortal frame, ■ And only one of direful name Can force its sin-barred gate. Our loved ones can but greet us through The dungeon grate, from which we view All outward things. They enter not : Thou, Thou alone caiist cheer our lot. ' Christ, we long for Thee to dwell Within our solitary cell ! To whom, Saviour, shall we go % Unless Thy voice we hear, All tuneless falls the sweetest song, And lonely seems the busiest throng Unless we feel Thee near. We dare not think what earth would be. Thou Heaven-Creator, but for Thee ; A howling chaos, wild and dark — One flood of horror, while no ark. Upborne above the gloom-piled wave, From one great death-abyss might save. To whom, Saviour, shall we go ? The Tempter's power is great ; E'en in our hearts is evil bound, And, lurking stealthily around, Still for our souls doth wait. Thou tempted One, whose suffering heart ' In all our sorrows bore a part. Whose life-blood only could atone, Too weak are we to stand alone ; And nothing but Thy shield of light Can guard us in the dreaded fight. Faith's Qtiestion. 75 To whom, Saviour, shall we go % The night of death draws near ; Its shadow must be passed alone, No friend can with our souls go down, The untried way to cheer. Thou hast the words of endless life ; Thou givest victory in the strife ; Thou only art the changeless Friend, On whom for aye we may depend : In life, in death, alike we flee, O Saviour of the world, to Thee. ye The Ministry of Song. ' \ Ifiti tbis for tijee ! amfjat Jjast tf)ou Iione for iffle?' (Motto placed under a Picture ofov/r Saviour in the study of a German divine.) GAVE My life for thee, cai. ii. 20. My precious blood I shed, 1 Pet, i. lo. That thou might'st ransomed be, Epii. s. 7. >^ And quickened from the dead. Eph. ii. 1. 'i' I gave My life for thee ; Tit. ii. 14. What hast thou given for Me t joimxxi. 15.17. I spent long years for thee 1 Tim. i. 15. In weariness and woe, isa, liii. 3. That an eternity joim xvii. 2+. Of joy thou mightest know. joiinxvi. 22. I spent long years for thee ; jo^n i. 10, 11. Hast thou spent one for Me ? 1 p«t.,iv. 2. My Father's home of light, Joim xvii. 5. My rainbow-circled throne, Uev. iv. 3. I left, for earthly night, Piiii. ii. 7. For wanderings sad and lone. Matt. vii. 20. I left it all for thee ; 2 Cor. viii. 9. Hast thou left aijght for Me 1 Luke x. 29. ' T did this for thee ! What hast thou done for Me V "j-j I suffered much for thee, isa. uii. 5. More than thy tongue may tell. Matt. xxvi. so. Of bitterest agony, Lukexxii. 44. To rescue thee from hell. Rom. v. 9. I suffered much for thee ; 1 Pet. h. 21-24. What canst thou bear for Me \ Rom. viii. 17, is. And I have brought to thee, Down from My home above, Salvation full and free, My pardon and My love. Great gifts I brought to thee ; What hast thou brought to Me % Oh, let thy life be given. Thy years for Me be spent, World-fetters all be riven, And joy with suffering blent. I gave Myself for thee : Give thou thyself to Me ! John iv. 10, 14. John iii. 13. Rev. xxi. 6. Acts V. 31. Ps. Ixviii. IS. Rom. xii. 1. Rom. vi. 13. 2 Cor. V. 15. Phil. iii. 8. 1 Pet. iv. 13-16. Epli. V. 2. Frov. xxiii. 23. 78 The Ministry of Song Isaiafj xxxitt, 17. THINE eyes shall see ! Yes, thine, who, blind erewhile, Now trembling towards the new-found light dost flee ; Leave doubting, and look up with trustful smile — ■ Thine eyes shall see ! Thine eyes shall see ! Not in some dream Elysian, Not in thy fancy, glowing though it be, Not e'en in faith, but in unveilfed vision, Thine eyes shall see ! Thine eyes shall see ! Not on thyself depend God's promises, the faithful, iirm, and free ; Ere they shall fail, earth, heaven itself, must end : Thine eyes shall see ! Thine eyes shall see 1 Not in a swift glance cast, Gleaning one ray to brighten memory. But while a glad eternity shall last. Thine eyes shall see ! Thine eyes shall see tlie King ! the very same Whose love shone forth upon the curseful tree. Who bore thy guilt, who calleth thee by name ; Thine eyes shall see ! Thine eyes shall see the King ! the mighty One, The Many-crowned, the Light-enrobed ; and He Shall bid thee share the kingdom He hath won : Thine eyes shall see ! God t/ie Provider. 79 And in His beauty ! Stay thee, mortal song, The ' altogether lovely ' One must be Unspeakable in glory, — yet ere long Thine eyes shall see ! Yes ! though the land be ' very far ' away, A step, a moment, ends the toil for thee ; Then, changing grief for gladness, night for day, Thine eyes shall see ! I God shall supply all your need, according to His riches in glory by Christ Jesus.' our untold need, Deeply felt, though scarcely known ? Who the hungering soul can feed. Guard, and guide, but God alone ? Blessed promise ! while we see Earthly friends must powerless be, Earthly fountains quickly dry, ' God ' shall all your need supply. He hath said it ! so we know Nothins? less can we receive. 8o The Ministry of Song. Oh that thankful love may glow While we restfuUy believe, — Ask not how, but trust Him still ; Ask not when, but wait His will : Simply on His word rely, God ' sliall ' all your need supply. Through the whole of life's long way, Outward, inward need we trace ; Need arising day by day, Patience, wisdom, strength, and grace. Needing Jesus most of all. Full of need, on Him we call ; Then how gracious His reply, God shall ' all ' your need supply ! Great our need, but greater far Is our Father's loving power ; He upholds each mighty star. He unfolds each tiny flower. He who numbers every hair. Earnest of His faithful care, Gave His Son for us to die : God shall all ' your ' need supply. Yet we often vainly plead For a fancied good denied. What we deemed a pressing need Still remaining unsupplied. Yet from dangers all concealed, Thus our wisest Friend doth shield ; No good thing will He deny, God shall all your ' need ' supply. God the Provider. Can we count redemption's treasure, Scan the glory of God's love ? Such shall be the boundless measure Of His blessings from above. All we ask or think, and more. He will give in bounteous store ; He can fill and satisfy, God shall all your need ' supply.' ^ One the channel, deep and broad. From the Fountain of the Throne, Christ the Saviour, Son of God, Blessings flow through Him alone. He, the Faithful and the True, Brings us mercies ever new : Till we reach His home on high, ' God shall all your need supply.' 1 The Greek word is raueli stronger than the English, - the full,' ' fill up,' ' satisfy.' -:rXv«il«i— 'will supply to The Ministry of Song. ait pattentlg for "Wixct., OD doth not bid thee wait To disappoint at last ; A golden promise, fair and great, In precept-mould is cast. Soon shall the morning gild The dai*k horizon rim. Thy heart's desire shall be fulfilled - ' Wait patiently for him.' The weary waiting times Are but the muffled peals. Low preluding celestial chimes, That hail His chariot wheels. Trust Him to tune thy voice To blend with seraphim ; His 'Wait' shall issue in 'Eejoice! ' Wait patiently for Him.' He doth not bid thee wait. Like driftwood on the wave, For fickle chance or fixed fate To ruin or to save. Thine eyes shall surely see. No distant hope or dim, The Lord thy God arise for thee : ' "Wait patiently fw Him.' This sani£ Jesus. 83 STbis same Sesus. Acts i. 11. ' HIS same Jesus ! ' Oh ! how sweetly Fall those words upon the ear, Like a swell of far-off music, In a nightwatch still and drear ! He who healed the hopeless leper ; He who dried the widow's tear ; He who changed to health and gladness Helpless suffering, trembling fear ; He who wandered, poor and homeless, By the stormy Galilee ; He who on the night-robed mountain Bent in prayer the wearied knee ; He who spake as none had spoken, Angel-wisdom far above. All-forgiving, he'er upbraiding, Full of tenderness and love ; 84 The Ministry of Song. He who gently called the weary, ' Come, and I will give you rest ! ' He who loved the little children. Took them in His arms and blest ; — He, the lonely Man of Sorrows, 'Neath our sin-curse bending low By His faithless friends forsaken In the darkest hours of woe ; — ' This same Jesus ! ' When the vision Of that last and awful day Bursts upon the prostrate spirit. Like a midnight lightning ray; When, else dimly aijprehended. All its terrors seem revealed, Trumpet knell and fiery heavens. And the books of doom unsealed ; Then we lift our hearts, adoring ' This same Jesus,' loved and known ; Him, our own most gracious Saviour, Seated on the great white Throne ; He Himself, and 'not another,' He for whom our heart-love yearns Through long years of twilight waiting. To His ransomed ones returns ! For this word, Lord, we bless Thee, Bless our Master's changeless name ; Yesterday, to-day, for ever, Jesus Christ is still the Same ! Mary's Birthday. 8S \ iWarg'S BirtlUas. She is at rest, In God's own presence blest, Whom, while with us, this day we loved to greet. Her birthdays o'er. She counts the years no more ; Time's footfall is not heard along the golden street. When we would raise ^ A hymn of birthday praise, r ' The music of our hearts is faint and low ; Fear, doubt, and sin Make dissonance within, And pure soul-melody no child of earth may know. That strange ' new song,' Amid a white-robed throng, Is gushing from her harp in living tone ; Her seraph voice. Tuned only to rejoice, Floats upward to the emerald-arched throne. ^ No passing cloud Her loveliness may shroud, The beauty of her youth may never fade ; No line of care Her sealed brow may wear, The joy-gleam of her eye no dimness e'er may shade. ' Rev. iv. 3. The Ministry of Song. No stain is there Upon the robes they wear, Within the gates of pearl which she hath j^assed ; Like woven light, All beautiful and bright, Eternity upon those robes no shade may cast. No sin-born thought May in that home be wrought, To trouble the clear fountain of her heart ; No tear, no sigh. No pain, no death, be nigh Where she hath entered in, no more to 'know in part.' Her faith is sight, Her hope is full delight, The shadowy veil of time is rent in twain : Her untold bliss — What thought can follow this ! To her to live was Christ, to die indeed is gain. Her eyes have seen The King, no veil between, In blopd-dipped vesture gloriously arrayed : No earth-breathed haze Can dim that rapturous gaze ; She sees Him face to face on whom her guilt was laid. A little while, And they whose loving smile Had melted 'neath the touch of lonely woe, Shall reach her home Beyond the star-built dome ; Her anthem they shall swell, her joy they too shall knoV. The Right Way. 87 V^z aatsi)t Mas. Lord, is it still the right way, though I cannot see Thy face, Though I do not feel Thy presence and Thine all-sustaining grace % Can even this be leading through the bleak and sunless wild To the City of Thy holy rest, the mansions undefiled f Lord, is it still the right way % A while ago I passed Where every step seemed thornier and harder than the last ; Where bitterest disappointment and inly aching sorrow Carved day by day a weary cross, renewed with every morrow. The heaviest end of that strange cross I knew was laid on Thee ; So I could still press on, secure of Thy deep sympathy. Our upward path may well be steep, else how were 1 atience tried? I knew it was the right way, for it led me to Thy side. But now I wait alone amid dim shadows dank and chill ; All moves and changes round me, but I seem standing still ; Or every feeble footstep I urge towards the light Seems but to lead me farther into the silent night. I cannot hear Thy voice. Lord ! dost Thou still hear my cry % I cling to Thine assurance that thou art ever nigh ; I know that Thou art faithful ; I trust, but cannot see. That it is still the right way by which Thou leadest me. I think I could go forward with brave and joyful heart. Though every step should pierce me with unknown fiery smart, If only I might see Thee, if I might gaze above On all the cloudless glory of the sunshine of Thy love. 88 The Ministry of Song. Is it really leading onwards ? When the shadows flee away, Shall I find this path has brought me more near to perfect day % Or am I left to wander thus that I may stretch my hand To some still wearier traveller in this same shadow-land ? Is this thy chosen training for some future task unknown 1 Is it that I may learn to rest upon Thy word alone % Whate'er it be, oh ! leave me not, fulfil Thou every hour The purpose of Thy goodness, and the work of faith witl^ power. I lay my prayer before Thee, and, trusting in Thy word, Though all is silence in my heart, I know that Thou hast heard. To that blest City lead me, Lord (still choosing all my way), Where faith melts into vision as the starlight into day. Woi^ Slill \i tone. Understanding vihai the will ot the Lord is.'— Eph. v. 17. , ITH quivering heart and treinbling will The word hath passed thy lips, Within the shadow, cold and still. Of some fair joy's eclipse : ' Thy will be done ! ' Thy God hath heard. And He will crown that faith-framed word. Thy prayer shall be fulfilled ; but how ? His thoughts are not as thine ; While thou wouldst only weep and bow, He saith, ' Arise and shine ! ' Thy thoughts were all of grief and night, But His of boundless joy and light. Thy Will be done. 89 Thy Father reigns supreme above : The glory of His name Is Grace and Wisdom, Truth and Love, His will must be the same. And thou hast asked all joys in one. In whispering forth, 'Thy v/ill be done.' His will — each soul to sanctify Eedeeming might hath won ; 1 His will — that thou shouldst never die, Believing on His Son ; ^ His will — that thou, through earthly strife, Shouldst rise to everlasting life.^ That one unchanging song of praise Should from our hearts arise ; * That we should know His wondrous ways. Though hidden from the wise ; * That we, so sinful and so base, Should know the glory of His grace.^ His will — to grant the yearning prayer For dear ones far away,^ That they His grace and love may share, And tread His pleasant way ; That in the Father and the Son All perfect we may be in one.^ His will — ^the little flock to bring Into His royal fold, 1 I Thess. iv. 3. 2Johnvi.40. 3 John vi. 39. 1 1 Thess. v. IS. 5 Matt. xi. 26, 26. 6 Eph. i. 5, 6, 11, 12. ' J Jolin v. 14-10. 8 John xvii. 23, 24, 90 TJie Ministry of Song. To reign for ever witli tlieir King,i His beauty to behold j^ Sin's fell dominion crushed for aye, Sorrow and sighing fled away. This thou hast asked ! And shall the prayer Float upward on a sigh ? No song were sweet enough to bear Such glad desires on high ! But God thy Father shall fulfil, In thee and for thee, all His will. ' Etf Ctinss S33f)w|j arc hefimli.' EAVE behind earth's empty pleasure, Fleeting hope and changeful love ; Leave its soon-corroding treasure : There are better things above. Leave, oh, leave thy fond aspirings, Bid thy restless heart be still ; Cease, oh, cease thy vain desirings. Only seek thy Father's will. Leave behind thy faithless sorrow, And thine every anxious care ; He who only knows the morrow Can for thee its burden bear. 1 Luke xii. 32. ' Isa. xxxiii. 17. Everlasting L ove. g i Leave behind the doubting spirit, And thy crushing load of sin ; By thy mighty Saviour's merit, Life eternal thou shalt win. Leave the darkness gathering o'er thee, Leave the shadow-land behind ; Eealms of glory lie before thee ; Enter in, and welcome find. ^ijerlasting ILO&0. ' Yea, I have loved thee with an everlasting love, therefore with loving-kindness have I drawn thee.' * No man can come to Me except the Father which hath sent Me draw him.' ' God's everlasting love ! What wouldst thou more ] ' true and tender friend, well hast thou spoken. My heart was restless, weary, sad, and sore. And longed and listened for some heaven-sent token ; And, like a child that knows not why it cried, 'Mid God's full promises it moaned, ' Unsatisfied ! ' Yet there it stands. love surpassing thought. So bright, so grand, so clear, so true, so glorious ; Love infinite, love tender, love unsought. Love changeless, love rejoicing, love victorious ! And this great love for us in boundless store : God's everlasting love ! What would we more ? The Ministry of Song. Yes, one thing more ! To know it ours indeed, To add the conscious joy of full possession. O tender grace that stoops to every need ! This everlasting love hath found expression In loving-kindness, vrhich hath gently drawn The heart that else astray too willingly had gone. From no less fountain such a stream could flow, No other root could yield so fair a flower : Had He not loved, He had not drawn us so ; Had He not drawn, we had nor will nor power To rise, to come ; — the Saviour had passed by Where we in blindness sat without one care or cry. We thirst for Goi, our treasure is, above ; Earth has no gift our one desire to meet, And that desire is pledge of His own love. Sweet question, with no answer ! oh, how sweet ! My heart in chiming gladness o'er and o'er Sings on, — ' God's everlasting love ! What wouldst thou more ? ' 'Master, say oji !' 93 ' Jlaster, sag on !' ASTEE, speak ! Thy servant heareth, Waiting for Thy gracious word, Longing for Thy voice that cheereth ; Master ! let it now be heard. I am listening, Lord, for Thee ; What hast Thou to say to me ? Master, speak in love and power : Crown the mercies of the day. In this quiet evening hour Of the moonrise o'er the bay, With the music of Thy voice ; Speak ! and bid Thy child rejoice. Often through my heart i^ pealing Many another voice than Thine, Many an unwilled echo stealing From the walls of this Thy shrine : Let Thy longed-for accents fall ; Master, speak ! and silence all. Master, speak ! I do not doubt Thee, Though so tearfully I plead ; Saviour, Shepherd ! oh, without Thee Life would be a blank indeed ! But I long for fuller light, Deeper love and clearer sight. 94 The Ministry of Soiig. Eesting on the 'faithful saying,' Trusting what Thy Gospel saith, On Thy written promise staying All my hope in life and death, Yet I long for something more From Thy love's exhaustless store. Speak to me by name, Master, Let me know it is to me ; Speak, that I may follow faster. With a step more firm and free. Where the Shepherd leads the flock. In the shadow of the Rock. Master, speak ! I kneel before Thee, Listening, longing, waiting still ; Oh, how long shall I implore Thee This petition to fulfil i Hast Thou not one word for me % Must my prayer unanswered be % Master, speak ! though least and lowest. Let me not unheard depart ; Master, speak 1 for oh. Thou knowest All the yearning of my heart, Knowest all its truest need ; Speak ! and make me blest indeed. Master, speak ! and make me ready, When Thy voice is truly heard. With obedience glad and steady Still to follow every word. I am listening, Lord, for Thee ; Master, speak, oh, speak to me ! Remote Results. 95 HEEE are the countless crystals, So perfect and so bright, That robed in softest ermine The winter day and night ? Not lost ! for, life to many a root, They rise again in flower and fruit. Where are the mighty forests And giant ferns of old, That in primeval silence Strange leaf and frond unrolled ? Not lost ! for now they shine and blaze, The light and warmth of Christmas days. Where are our early lessons, The teachings of our youth. The countless words forgotten Of knowledge and of truth % Not lost ! for they are living still, As power to think, and do, and will.- Where is the seed we scatter. With weak and trembling hand. Beside the gloomy waters, Or on the arid land ? Not lost,! for after many days Our prayer and toil shall turn to praise. 9'5 The Ministry of Song. Where are the days of sorrow, And lonely hours of pain, When work is interrupted, Or planned and willed in vain % Not lost ! it is the thorniest shoot That bears the Master's pleasant fruit. Where, where are all God's lessons, His teachings dark or bright ? Not lost ! but only hidden. Till, in eternal light, We see, while at His feet we fall. The reasons and results of all. v^#5 ®'^ ^^ ^ast Heat^ Finished at last ! Yet for five years past My book on the dusty shelf Jiath lain,- And I hardly thought that ever again My thoughts would follow the pleasant chime Of musical measure and ringing rhyme. I remember well when I laid it by. Closed with a sort of requiem sigh. Spring in her beauty had swept along. And left my spirit all full of song : The wakening depths of my heart were stirred. Voices within and without I heard. Whispering me That I might be 1 Written at the close of a manuscript volume. On the Last Leaf. gy A messenger of peace and pleasure ; That in my careless minstrelsy Lay something of poetic treasure, Which, wrought with care, I yet some day At all my loved ones' feet might lay. Perhaps 'twas a vain and foolish dream, A fancy-lit, illusive gleam ! And yet I cannot quite believe That such bright impulse could deceive. I felt I had so much to say. Such pleasant thoughts from day to da)' ; Sang, lark-like, with each morning ray, Or murmured low in twilight grey. Like distant curfew pealing. And then, for each, fair Fancy brought A robe of language ready wrought, The smile of every wingfed thought Half veiling, half revealing. And I only waited, with longing gaze, For the golden leisure of summer days, Which I thought to crown with happiest lays. God thought not so ! Ah no ! He knew There was other work for me to do, There were other lessons for me to learn : Another voice fell, low and stem. Upon the too reluctant ear. Before the solemn voice of Pain My visions fled, nor came again, With all their glad and lovely train, My summer-tide to cheer. Well is it when, at high command Of wisest Love, she takes her stand G 98 Tlie MinisU-y of Song. At the heart's busy porta], And warns away each noisy guest Whose presence chases calm and rest, Our powers, the brightest and the best, Proclaiming weak and mortal. That so the way may be more clear For Him, the Prince of Peace, to come, That which is left all void and drear To make His palace and His home. And so the song- of my heart was hushed, And the chiming thoughts were stilled : Slimmer flew by, but the hope was crushed, Swiftly onward niy life-tide rushed, But my book remained unfilled. For an aching head and a weary frame, Poetry is but an eupty name. Yet I am sure it was better so ; I trusted then, and now I know. For ever, I think, the gift is fled Which once I fancied mine : So be it ! a ' name ' is not for me ; Loving and loved I would rather be With power to cheer and sympathize, Bearing new light for tear-dimmed eyes ; But I do not care to shine. So if aught I write may tend to this. My fairest hope of earthly bliss, Content with humblest rhyme I'll be. And, striving less and trusting more, All simple, earnest thoughts outpour, Such as my God may give to me. How should they Know me ? 99 ?^otjj sijouHj tfjeg Itnoto me? ; HERE are those who deem they know me well, And smile as I tell them ' nay ! ' Who think they may clearly and carelessly tell Each living drop in my heart's deep well, , And lightly enter its inmost cell ; But little (how little !) know they ! How should they know me ? My soul is a maze "Where I wander alone, alone ; Never a footfall there was heard, Never a mortal hand hath stirred The silence-curtain that hangs between Outer and inner, nor eye hath seen What is only and ever my own. They have entered indeed the vestibule. For its gate is opened wide, High as the roof, and I welcome all AVho will visit my warm reception-hall. And utter a long and loving call To some who are yet outside. ] 00 The Ministry of Song. I would lead each guest to a place of rest j All should be calm and bright ; Then a lulling flow of melody, And a crystal draught of sympathy, And odorous blossoms of kindly thought, With golden fruit of deed, be brought From the chambers out of sight. Some I would take with a cordial hand. And lead them round the walls. Showing them many a storied screen. Many a portrait, many a scene, Deep-cut carving, and outlined scroll ; Passing quickly where shadows roll. Slowly where sunshine falls. They do not know and they cannot see That strong-hinged, low-arched door, Though I am j)assing in and out. From gloom within to light without. Or from gloom without to light within ; None can ever an entrance win. None ! for evermore. It is a weird and wondrous realm, Where I often hold my breath At the unseen things which there I see, At the mighty shapes which beckon to me. At the visions of woe and ecstasy. At the greetings of life and death. They rise, they pass, they melt away. In an ever-changing train ; I cannot hold them or tell their stay. Sfc? Making Poetry. \ o r Or measure the time of their fleeting sway ; As grim as night, and as fair as day, They vanish and come again. I wander on through the strange domain, Marvelling ever and aye ; Marvelling how around my feet All the opposites seem to meet; The dark, the light, the chill, the glow, The storm, the calm, the fire, the snow : How can it be 1 I do not know ; Then how, oh, how can they ? What am I, and how ? If reply there be, In unsearchable chaos 'tis cast. Though the soaring spirit of restless man Might the boundary line of the universe scan, And measure and map its measureless plan. The gift of self-knowledge were last ! Jlaftinfl poftrg. ITTLE one, what are you doing. Sitting on the window-seat ? Laughing to yourself, and writing. Some right merry thought inditing, Balancing with swinging feet. 'Tis some poetry I'm making. Though I never tried before : Four whole lines ! I'll read them to you. 102 77^1? Ministry of Song. /: Do you think them funny, do you ? Shall I try to make some more 1 ' I should like to be a poet, Writing verses every day ; Then to you I'd always bring them. You should make a tune and sing them ; 'Twould be pleasanter than play.' 'JhAr Think you, darling, nought is needed But the paper and the ink, And a pen to trace so lightly, While the eye is beaming brightly. All the pretty things we think ? There's a secret, — can you trust me % Do not ask me what it is ; Perhaps some day you too will know it, If you live to be a poet. All its agony and bliss. Poetry is not a trifle. Lightly thought and lightly made ; Not a fair and scentless flower. Gaily cultured for an hour, Then as gaily left to fade. G^ 'Tis not stringing rhymes together In a pleasant true accord ; Not the music of the metre. Not the happy fancies, sweeter Than a flower-bell, honey-stored. MaMng- Poetry. lOJ 'Tis the essence of existence, Rarely rising to the light ; And the songs that echo longest, Deepest, fullest, truest, strongest. With your life-blood you will write. With your life-blood ! None will know it, You will never tell them how. Smile ! and they will never guess it : Laugh ! and you will not confess it By your paler cheek and brow. There must be the tightest tension Ere the tone be full and true ; Shallow lakelets of emotion Are not like the spirit-ocean, . ^^^^^ Which reflects the purest blue. Every lesson you shall utter. If the charge indeed be yours, First is gained by earnest learning, Carved in letters deep and burning On a heart that long endures. Day by day that wondrous tablet Your life-poem shall receive. By the hand of Joy or Sorrow; But the pen can never borrow Half the records that they leave. You will only give a transcript Of a life-line here and there— Only just a spray-wreath springing From the hidden depths, and flinging Broken rainbows on the air. 104 The Ministry of Song. Still, if you but copy truly, 'Twill be poetry indeed. Echoing many a heart's vibration. Rather love than admiration Earning as your priceless meed. Will you seek it ^ Will you brave it ? 'Tis a strange and solemn thing, Learning long before your teaching, Listening long before your preaching, Suffering before you sing. V^t Cascatic. Who saith that Poetry is not in thee, Thou wild cascade, bright, beautiful, and free ? Who saith that thine own sunny gleaming waters Are not among ' sweet Poesie's ' fair daughters ? No Poetry in thee ! then tell, oh tell, Where is the home where she delights to dwell % But what is Poetry ? Some aerial sprite. Clothed in a dazzling robe of wavy light, ' Whose magic touch unlocks the gates of joy In dreamland to some vision-haunted boy ? Or is she but a breath from Eden-bowers, Charged with the fragrance of their shining flowers, Which, passing o'er the harp-strings of the soul, Awakes new melody, whose echoes roll The Cascade. 105 la waves of spirit-music through the heart, Till tears and smiles in mingling sweetness start % It may be so, but still she seems to me Most like a God-sent sunlight, rich and free, Bathing the tiniest leaf in molten gold, Bidding each flower some secret charm unfold, Weaving a veil of loveliness for earth, Calling all fairy forms to wondrous birth. Our sweet soul-Artist ! Many a fair surprise Her colour-treasures bring to waiting eyes ; Her pictures, sudden seen, oft seem to dwell Like pearls within the rugged ocean shell ; They tell of something purer and more fair Than earth can boast, and gleam forth everywhere, — Star-glimpses through the trees, or flashes bright Of meteor glory in a northern night. Our sweet soul-Harpist ! linking winds with sighs. And blending both with spirit-melodies, And adding chords that come we know not whence, Dream-echoes mingling with the wakeful sense. O strange, beautiful ! though all unknown. The music-fount of every lovely tone. The colour-fount of every lovely thought. By this bright ministrant so freely brought. Save that we own their true and soothing might. One of His perfect gifts, whose names are Love and Light. Oh ! she is often where we least surmise, And scorns the dimness of our heavy eyes ; We catch the ruby sparkles of her wing, And she is gone like dewdrops of the spring ; Again, to glad us with her smile she stays. And shows her brightness to our loving gaze. io6 The Ministry of Song. No cave so dark but she may gain its i^orch, And gild the shadows ■*<'ith her quenchless torch ; No dell so silent but her pealing voice Can bid a leafy orchestra rejoice ; No waste so lonely but she there may hold Her gorgeous court in splendour all untold. And where those waters murmur as they leap A song of gentleness, and calm, and sleei?, Within the sounding music of their tone I hear a voice, and know it is her own. And where the fair, fond sunbeams blithely jjlay Aniid the hazy wreaths of dancing spray, A form of fairy grace shines forth to me ; I hail the vision, for I know 'tis she. She loves that changeful, yet unchanging foam, Within its arching bowers she finds a home, And reads beneath its roof of fleeting snow The secrets of the shadowy depth below. Then who shall say that she is not in thee, Thou wild cascade, bright, beautiful, and free ! Fairy Homes. 107 ^^-H__ Jairg f^omrs. ■ 'VE found at last the hiding-place Where the fairy people dwell, And to win the secrets of their race I hold the long-sought spell. IS^i With the woodland fairies I can talk, I can list their silvery lays ; Oh ! pleasant in a lonely walk Is the company of fays. No fabled fancy 'tis to me, For in every floweret's bell Is a tiny chamber, where I see A gentle fairy dwell. And afmy bidding forth they come, To soothe me or to cheer. And to tell me tales of fairydom With voices soft and clear. Full many a beauteous lesson, too. Their rosy lips can teach ; Great men would wonder if they knew How well the fairies preach. io8 The Ministry of Song. When thoughts of sorrow sadden me They seem to sympathize, And gaze upon me lovingly, With tender, earnest eyes. But when a tide of joyous glee Is bringing song and smile. Then brightly they look up to me, And laugh with me awhile. Oh ! lovely are the floweret homes Of these sweet summer fays ; God's thoughts of beauty taking form To gladden mortal gaze. More Music. 109 ilore jHustc. Oh for a burst of song, Exultant, deep, and strong ! One gusli of music's billowy might. To bear my soul away Into the realms of day, From these dim glacier-caves of Life's cold night ! Oh for a sunset strain, AVafted o'er slumberous main, To enter, spirit-like, my prisoned heart, And there, with viewless hand. Unloose each mortal band. That in. the songs of heaven I too might learn a part ! The sweetest music here Calls forth the quiet tear. For grief and gladness flow in blended stream ; Oh for the joyous day (Can it be far away ?) V/hen one great Alleluia song shall chase Life's tuneless dream ! no The Ministry of Song. i^Ebj gear's TOisfjcs. A PEARL-STREWN pathway of untold gladness, Flecked by no gloom, by no weary sadness, — Such be the year to thee ! A crystal rivulet, sunlight flinging. Awakening blossoms, and joyously singing Its own calm melody. A symphony soft, and sweet, and low. Like the gentlest music the angels know In their moments of deepest joy ; 'Mid earths wild clamour thy spirit telling Of beauty and holiness, upward swelling. And mingling with the sky. A radiant, fadeless Eden flower. Unfolding in loveliness hour by hour. Like a wing-veiled seraph's face ; — Such be the opening year to thee. Shrouded though all its moments be. Unknown as the bounds of space. Blessings unspoken this year be thine ! Each day in its rainbow flight entwine ^ ^u-i New gems in thy joy-wreathed crown ; May each in the smile of Him be bright, Who is changeless Love and unfading Light, ^ Till the glory seem to thy trancfed sight As heaven to earth come down! rv-, My Sweet Woodruff. Ill 1^. il2 Stoect aEootiruff. O mor<5 the flowers of spring are seen. And silence fills the summer noon ; The woods have lost the fresh bright green Of May and June. But yesterday I found a flower. Deep sheltered from the withering rays, Which might have known the sun and shower Of April days. I did not think again to find Such tender relic of the spring ; It thrilled such gladness through my mind, I needs must sing. My girlhood's spring has passed for aye, With many a fairy tint and tone ; The heat and burden of the day Are better known. Bat by my summer path has sprung A flower of happy love, as fair As e'er a subtle fragrance flung On spring's clear air. 112 The Ministry of Song. ^3 rM I liardly thought to feel again Such dewy freshness in my heart, And so one little loving strain Must upward start. There was spring-sunshine in my eyes, I had such joy in finding you, So full of all I love and prize, So dear and true. My heart is richer far to-day Than when I came a week ago ; How near to me such treasure lay I did not know ! The long parenthesis is o'er. And now, in letters all of light. The story of our love once more We both may write. I have no words to breathe the praise Which now for this ' good gift ' I owe ; A wordless anthem I must raise. But HE will know. Our Gem Wreath. "3 ©ur ®em TOreatfj. EAKD ye the sounds of joyous glee, And the notes of merry minstrelsy ; And the purling of low, sweet words which start From the silent depths of a loving heart ; And the gushing laugh, and the rippling song, As the summer days sped swift along ? Saw ye the gleam of sunny hair. And the glancing of forms yet young and fair, And the dancing light of happy eyes. And smiles like the rosy morning skies ? Saw ye and heard, and would ye not know What made such mirth and music flow ? There were maidens five, as blithe and free As the curbless waves of the open sea : They met ; — ye may liken their early greeting To the dewdrops on a rose-leaf meeting ; Then many a day flew uncounted by, With Love like an angel hovering nigh, While the ruby light of his sparkling wing Flung a tint of joy on everything. ' In books, or works, or healthful play,' As the meraest lips would often say, H 1 14 The Ministry of Song. Or in strange attempts to weave a spell Which might bid the Muses among them dwell, Or in a stream of mingled song, Some of their hours have passed along, Bearing the sound of each pleasant lay, And the echo of many a laugh, away. When the burning day is on the wane, They wander through some darkening lane. In quieter converse lingering awhile 'Neath the arching roof of its shadowy aisle. Where the latest sunbeams kiss the brow Of Malvern's Beacon, see them now ; Springing o'er moss-bed, and rock, and stone, As though the green earth were all their own, And singing forth tg the fair wide scene. In a loyal chorus, ' God save the Queen ! ' Again, from out the busy street, They pass with gladly reverent feet Within the old cathedral's shade ; And feel the sacred silence laid Upon the lips, upon the heart, By time and place thus ' set apart.' Then the anthem fills the glorious fane, Till its solemn tones float back again, Round arch and column the sound enwreathing, Till they seem with holy music breathing, — Music and love ; while the choral praise Images better and holier days. Yet once again ; — with low bent head, They are kneeling where the feast is spread ; Not one is absent, all are there, Its silent blessedness to share. W^ell may a bond of love be felt. When thus together they have knelt. 4> Our Gem Wreath. r'5 Would ye know the maidens five, oh, say 1 The meek, the merry, the grave, the gay : Each jewel of all the sunlit cluster Shines with its own unborrowed lustre. Then listen and gaze, while each shall pass, As a half-seen vision in magic glass. A QUIET summer evening, when the daybeams' heat and glare Have passed away, and coolness comes upon the cloudless air, And the soft grey twilight wakes the stars to glisten o'er the hill, And the only vesper-chime is rung by one low-murmuring rill ; Like such an evening is the soul of that one dark-eyed maid. Amid earth's restless turmoil like a calm and pleasant shade ; So soothing and so gently sweet her words of deep love fall Upon the wearied spirit, like the ringdove's forest call. Well hath she learnt to sympathize with every hope and fear, Well hath she learnt the sorrowing .Heart to brighten and to cheer ; Long years of weary weakness have not passed away in vain, If the holy art of sympathy they taught her to attain. Her fairy footstep falleth as a noiseless flake of snow, So violet-like and still that we her presence hardly know ; But like a gleaming vessel-path, far glittering through the night, She leaves a memory behind of soft and silvery light. Within the crystal cavern of retirement ye find That gem of inward radiance, her ' meek and quiet ' mind ; Not like the flashing topaz, or the ruby's gorgeous glow, She is a precious Amethyst, whose value well we know. ii6 The Ministry of Song. Si- Now turn we to that merry maiden, With azure eye and smooth bright hair ; ^*4, A lily blossom, fragrance-laden, Is not more fair. i