FROM   THE   LIBRARY  OF 
 REV.   LOUIS    FITZGERALD    BENSON,   D.  D. 
 
 BEQUEATHED   BY   HIM   TO 
 THE   LIBRARY  OF 
 
 PRINCETON  THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY 
 
 %<& 
 
I 
 
 i- 
 
SINGERS    AND    SONGS 
 
 OF 
 
 THE      LIBERAL     FAITH. 
 
"  God  sent  his  singers  upon  Earth 
 With  songs  of  sadness  and  of  mirth, 
 That  they  might  touch  the  hearts  of  men, 
 And  bring  them  back  to  heaven  again.'''' 
 
 Longfellow. 
 
 "  A  good  hymn  is  a  more  valuable  contribution  to  Ch?'is- 
 tian  Literature  than  vast  toines  of  theology ;  for  it  will  sing 
 to  the  ages  after  the  tomes  are  ?nouldering  on  the  shelves.'1'' 
 
 Sears. 
 
OCT  24  1932 
 
 Singers  and   S%}gs 
 
 OF    THE 
 
 iUberal    Jfatti); 
 
 BEING     SELECTIONS     OF     HYMNS     AND    OTHER 
 
 SACRED    POEMS    OF    THE    LIBERAL 
 
 CHURCH    IN    AMERICA, 
 
 WITH 
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCHES  OF  THE  WRITERS,  AND  WITH 
 HISTORICAL  AND    ILLUSTRATIVE   NOTES. 
 
 ALFRED    P.   PUTNAM. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 
 ROBERTS     BROTHERS. 
 
 1875. 
 
Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1874,  by 
 
 ALFRED    P.    PUTNAM, 
 
 In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 
 
 Cambridge  : 
 Press  of  "John   Wilson  and  Son. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 T^HE  present  volume  had  its  origin  in  a  course  of  ten 
 lectures  on  the  History  of  Sacred  Song  in  Hebrew 
 and  Christian  times,  which  I  gave  to  my  own  people  of 
 the  Church  of  the  Saviour,  in  Brooklyn,  during  the  winter 
 of  1 872-1 873,  and  repeated  to  the  students  of  the  Theo- 
 logical School  at  Meadville,  Penn.,  in  the  following  June. 
 The  last  of  the  series  treated  particularly  of  Unitarian 
 Hymnology,  and  led  directly  to  the  preparation  of  this 
 book.  My  studies  at  that  time  only  deepened  the  con- 
 viction, which  very  many  others  must  have  shared  with 
 me,  that  scattered  through  a  wide  range  of  literature 
 were  a  great  number  of  fine  hymns,  and  brief  religious 
 poems  beside,  which,  having  had  their  rise  in  the  Liberal 
 Communion,  and  appearing  to  be  just  expressions  of  the 
 Liberal  Faith,  might  accomplish  a  more  extended  ser- 
 vice by  being  brought  together  in  a  collected  form,  and 
 thus  made  more  accessible  to  the  general  reader.  In 
 pursuance  of  this  plan,  I  have  drawn  the  offerings  which 
 fill  these  pages,  not  alone  from  church  hymn-books,  pop- 
 ular compilations  of  poetry,  and  recently  published  works 
 of  individual  authors,  but  from  magazines  and  newspapers 
 of  various  dates  in  the  present  century  ;  from  annuals 
 and  pamphlets,  some  of  which  were  printed  many  years 
 ago  ;  from  volumes  which  have  had  their  day,  and  are 
 not  now  easily  to  be  obtained  ;  from  precious  manuscripts 
 
Vl  PREFACE. 
 
 whose  contents  now  for  the  first  time  see  the  light ;  and 
 from  other  repositories  where  not  a  few  of  the  treasures 
 which  are  here  gathered  have  long  lain  buried,  and  were 
 in  more  or  less  danger  of  remaining  quite  neglected. 
 
 From  the  circumstance  that  a  large  proportion  of  these 
 hymns  and  poems  have  been  recovered  from  the  places 
 where  they  have  so  long  been  concealed  from  view,  and 
 from  the  fact  that  a  very  considerable  number  which 
 have  never  been  given  to  the  public  before  have  been 
 sent  as  special  contributions  to  these  pages  by  many  of 
 the  most  eminent  authors  whose  names  are  presented 
 here,  it  will  be  seen  how  fresh,  as  well  as  rare,  an  element 
 pervades  the  volume.  •  This  feature  of  the  book  is  ren- 
 dered perhaps  still  more  interesting  by  the  further  con- 
 sideration that  many  of  the  men  and  women  in  our  roll 
 of  singers  are  almost  exclusively  known  as  prose-writers, 
 while  yet  they  have  from  time  to  time  produced  verses 
 which  well  deserve  to  be  collected  and  more  widely  cir- 
 culated. Nor,  while  there  appear  in  this  procession  of 
 bards  those  who  have  greatly  distinguished  themselves, 
 not  only  as  poets,  but  also  as  essayists,  critics,  historians, 
 statesmen,  preachers,  reformers,  and  philanthropists,  have 
 I  by  any  means  forgotten  others  of  humbler  rank,  who 
 have  never  aspired  to  literary  fame  or  prominent  station, 
 but  who,  out  of  their  rural  or  cloistered  retreats,  or  out 
 of  their  daily  business  toil  or  domestic  care,  have  also 
 sung  the  sweet  and  acceptable  songs  of  our  Zion.  It  is 
 well  worthy  of  note  how  the  divine  Spirit  has  touched 
 and  tuned  to  praise  the  hearts  of  so  many  and  such 
 various  classes  of  persons,  and  how  they  here  blend  their 
 voices  together  in  fine  accord. 
 
 While  many  valuable  books  of  sermons,  essays,  and 
 treatises  have  been  published,  designed  to  set  forth  the 
 theological  views  and  inculcate  the  religious  sentiments 
 of  what  is  usually  denominated  the  Liberal  Church,  the 
 
PREFACE.  Vll 
 
 object  of  this  volume  is  to  show  how  the  vital  faith  of 
 that  communion  has  voiced  itself  also  in  song  and  poetry, 
 and  to  provide  a  fresh  ministry  of  spiritual  strength  and 
 comfort  to  those  who  may  be  helped  by  the  reasonable 
 and  cheerful  thoughts  and  truths  which  it  is  believed  are 
 here  unfolded.  For  it  is  especially  in  these  richer  and 
 loftier  strains  of  devotion,  and  not  so  much  in  homiletic 
 discourse  or  controversial  argument,  that  the  very  heart 
 of  any  body  of  believers  finds  its  best  utterance.  Yet 
 our  purpose  must  needs  be  to  unify,  not  to  distract  and 
 divide,  since  it  is  just  here  that  all  sects  and  commun- 
 ions discover  most  fully  their  common  bond,  their  essen- 
 tial oneness.  It  has  well  been  said  that  there  is  but  little 
 horsy  in  hymns.  Doubts  and  dogmas  alike  have  no 
 proper  function  to  fulfil  in  a  service  like  this.  It  is  only 
 the  trust  and  love,  the  joy  and  peace,  the  hopes  and  aspi- 
 rations, of  the  soul,  which  are  deeper  than  our  speculative 
 opinions  and  ecclesiastical  preferences,  and  which  are  the 
 profoundest  experiences  of  all  who  truly  love  God  and 
 man, —  it  is  these  alone  that  sing  themselves  into  the 
 immortal  chants  and  anthems  of  history.  The  hymns  of 
 this  Collection,  like  the  hymns  of  the  ages,  may  be  more 
 or  less  colored  by  the  peculiar  doctrines  or  associations 
 of  those  who  composed  them  ;  but  the  same  inspiring  life 
 breathes  in  them  all.  It  is  gratifying  to  observe  that  this 
 truth  is  finding  a  more  and  more  generous  recognition  in 
 the  freer  and  still  freer  use,  by  each  of  the  sects,  of  the 
 best  hymns  of  all  communions,  Orthodox  and  Liberal. 
 Only  the  whole  church  can  worthily  fulfil  to  the  soul  the 
 great  ministry  of  song. 
 
 I  would  use  the  word  Liberal  in  no  offensive  sense. 
 
 t  of  the  authors  who  appear  in  our  list  may  be  said  to 
 
 belong  to  the  Unitarian  denomination,  but  not  all.     Some 
 
 of  them  are  simply  Theists,  and  others  verge  very  near 
 
 the  Evangelical  Faith  ;  while  both  classes,  perhaps,  have 
 
Viil  PREFACE. 
 
 steadily  refused  to  accept  any  sectarian  name  or  to  be 
 identified  with  any  sectarian  organization.  Yet,  as  all 
 are  believed  to  hold  substantially  to  the  doctrine  of  the 
 Divine  Unity,  and  have  been  associated  with  each  other 
 in  many  ways  as  somehow  members  of  a  common  house- 
 hold, feeling  or  finding  more  sympathy  there  than  else- 
 where, it  was  plainly  beyond  my  legitimate  province,  in  a 
 book  like  this,  to  seek  to  draw  any  dividing-line ;  while, 
 at  the  same  time,  it  was  my  duty  to  employ  a  term  that 
 might  be  large  enough  to  cover  them  all  and  give  um- 
 brage to  none.  It  is  not  intended  by  any  such  use  of 
 the  word  to  intimate  that  there  are  not  other  religious 
 communions  to  which  it  is  applicable  as  well  as  to  this. 
 
 To  impart  additional  interest  to  the  volume,  and  to 
 meet  a  very  natural  desire  on  the  part  of  many  persons 
 to  know  more  about  those  who  write  our  hymns,  I  have  ac- 
 companied the  selections  with  brief  biographical  sketches, 
 giving  a  few  leading  dates  or  facts  of  the  history  of  the 
 authors,  and  enumerating  their  principal  contributions 
 to  literature  and  not  a  few  of  their  conspicuous  labors 
 in  other  important  departments  of  service,  but  making 
 special  note  of  whatever  they  may  have  done  in  the 
 sphere  which  particularly  concerns  us  here.  With  refer- 
 ence to  men  who  are  so  well  and  widely  known  as  Adams, 
 Parker,  Bryant,  and  Longfellow,  it  was  manifestly  un- 
 necessary for  me  to  enter  largely  into  detail.  In  the  case 
 of  many  others  who  are  less  renowned,  but  who  are  yet 
 of  no  little  eminence,  I  have  made  my  notices  somewhat 
 more  extended.  There  are  others  still  whose  names 
 scarcely  appear  in  cyclopaedias  of  literature,  biograph- 
 ical dictionaries,  or  even  church  hymn-books,  but  who,  in 
 consideration  of  their  character,  lives,  and  verses,  are 
 richly  entitled  to  all  the  glad  and  grateful  remembrance 
 which  is  accorded  them  in  these  pages.  In  writing  these 
 sketches,  I  have  been  aided  to  a  considerable  extent  by 
 
PREFACE.  ix 
 
 various  books,  to  which  I  refer  in  my  list  of  acknowl- 
 edgments ;  but  I  have  drawn  much  more  largely  from 
 numerous  volumes  of  memoirs,  published  funeral-dis- 
 courses, newspaper-obituaries,  and  from  oral  or  written 
 accounts,  which,  in  answer  to  my  inquiries,  I  have  re- 
 ceived from  friends,  who  by  reason  of  their  acquaintance 
 with  the  living  and  the  dead  were  competent  to  give  me 
 the  facts  I  needed.  Assisted  in  whatever  way,  I  have 
 sought  to  bring  these  notices  down  to  the  latest  time, 
 and  to  make  them,  in  their  revised  and  condensed  form, 
 as  complete  as  my  general  plan  would  allow. 
 
 It  has  not  been  my  aim  to  canvass  the  merit  of  these 
 authors  as  writers  either  of  prose  or  poetry,  or  to  enter 
 into  any  discriminating  analysis  or  review  of  their  lite- 
 ral)- productions.  I  have  only,  at  most,  indulged  here 
 and  there  in  very  brief  and  quite  general  comments  in 
 praise  of  either  one  or  the  other,  frequently  perhaps 
 neglecting  to  render  a  like  tribute  where  also  it  was 
 justly  due.  A  different  course  might  have  made  the 
 sketches  too  long,  and  I  have  been  very  well  content  to 
 let  these  songs  of  the  Liberal  Faith  tell  their  own  story. 
 It  does  not  seem  to  me  too  much  to  say,  that,  in  purity 
 of  thought,  in  elevation  of  sentiment,  in  refinement  of  ex- 
 pression, and  in  classic  beauty  and  finish  of  style,  these 
 hvmnists,  as  a  whole,  may  well  challenge  comparison 
 with  those  of  any  other  communion.  They  reveal,  as 
 a  class,  a  strong  faith  and  tender  trust  in  God  as  the 
 Father  ;  a  fine  appreciation  and  love  of  all  that  is  grand 
 and  beautiful  in  Nature  ;  a  deep  conviction  that  a  di- 
 vine hand  is  in  all  things,  and  is  guiding  all  things  on  to 
 a  glorious  issue  and  end  ;  a  profound  and  earnest  rever- 
 ence for  Christ,  as  the  Way,  the  Truth,  and  the  Life, 
 and  a  heartfelt  recognition  of  his  Cross  as  the  emblem 
 and  pledge  of  victory;  a  genuine  "enthusiasm  for  hu- 
 manity "  and   a  sense  of  the  supreme  value  of  a  good 
 
X  PREFACE. 
 
 life,  and  a  large  and  genial  sympathy  and  fellowship 
 with  all  true  and  faithful  souls  in  every  sect  or  com- 
 munion,—  which  give  to  their  lyrics  a  power,  a  fervor, 
 and  a  joy,  which  only  too  frequently,  I  fear,  have  been 
 denied  them. 
 
 Strewn  through  the  volume  are  many  brief  notes  of  an 
 historical  or  illustrative  character,  the  object  of  which  is 
 to  make  known  the  origin  of  many  of  these  hymns  or 
 poems,  the  occasions  for  which  they  were  composed,  the 
 publications  in  which  they  originally  appeared,  the  various 
 changes  or  fortunes  which  they  have  undergone,  and 
 other  facts,  incidents,  or  circumstances  connected  with 
 them.  These  might  easily  have  been  greatly  multiplied, 
 but  I  have  been  restrained  by  the  fear  of  making  them 
 too  prominent  a  feature  of  the  book.  Such  as  they  are, 
 it  is  thought  that  they  will  help  to  revive  many  pleasant 
 and  holy  memories,  and  give  an  increased  interest  to  the 
 metrical  pieces  to  which  they  relate.  Not  a  few  of  these 
 songs  will  be  seen  to  have  been  written  for  festivals,  or 
 celebrations,  or  anniversaries,  not  strictly  of  a  religious 
 character.  Yet  they  were  deemed  suitable  to  my  gen- 
 eral purpose  or  plan,  since  they  are  fraught  with  valuable 
 lessons,  and  are  fitted  to  exert  a  good  influence.  Indeed, 
 I  have  endeavored  to  give  variety  to  the  contents  of 
 the  volume  by  introducing  numerous  productions  of 
 this  kind,  while  yet  the  great  proportion  of  those  which 
 I  include  are  of  a  more  devout  or  spiritual  nature ;  and 
 for  the  same  reason  I  admit  a  large  number  of  sacred 
 poems,  which,  owing  to  their  peculiar  form  or  metre,  may 
 not  be  set  to  music  or  sung  in  the  church,  while  yet  the 
 hymn-element,  properly  considered,  is  predominant. 
 
 It  will  be  noticed  that  my  list  of  authors  is  confined 
 to  American  writers.  I  had  intended  at  first  to  include 
 many  hymnists,  also  of  the  Liberal  Faith,  in  England 
 and  other  European  countries.     I  soon  found,  however, 
 
PREFACE.  xi 
 
 that  the  field  was  too  large,  and  the  difficulties  of  carry- 
 ing out  my  plan  with  reference  to  lands  so  remote  were 
 too  great.  I  was  therefore  glad  to  enter  into  an  arrange- 
 ment with  some  friends  abroad,  who  were  to  collect  in 
 a  similar  way  the  best  songs  of  this  communion  which 
 have  had  their  origin  in  the  Old  World,  while  I  was  to 
 gather  those  which  have  had  their  birth  in  the  New.  How 
 far  the  enterprise  of  my  English  co-laborers  has  made 
 progress  I  am  not  at  present  informed,  but  I  trust  the 
 result  of  their  researches  will  appear  at  no  distant  day. 
 I  have  found  the  harvest  even  here  at  home  more  abun- 
 dant than  I  could  well  bind  into  a  single  sheaf.  No  doubt 
 there  are  many  other  cherished  and  honored  names, 
 and  numerous  other  favorite  and  beautiful  hymns,  which 
 belong  to  such  a  compilation  as  this,  and  which  readers 
 may  be  sorry  not  to  discover  here.  I  hope  to  give  place 
 to  these  in  another  series,  which  is  in  course  of  prepa- 
 ration from  accumulated  stores  that  are  already  in  my 
 hands,  or  from  materials  which  I  am  engaged  in  collect- 
 ing. It  is  thought  that  the  two  volumes  —  which, 
 however  similar,  will  yet  be  in  a  certain  sense  inde- 
 pendent of  each  other  —  will  not  unacceptably  embody 
 or  represent  the  finest  and  richest  song-literature  of 
 the  American  Liberal  Church. 
 
 The  authors  embraced  within  the  present  volume  are 
 arranged  generally  in  chronological  order.  The  only 
 exceptions  to  this  rule  were  in  some  cases  quite  un- 
 avoidable, and  in  others  are  due  to  my  judgment  that  it 
 would  be  best  to  group  here  and  there  various  members 
 of  the  same  family  together.  In  the  first  part  of  the 
 book  will  be  found  an  Index  of  these  writers,  with  the 
 titles  or  subjects  of  their  songs,  given  in  the  order  in 
 which  they  occur  in  the  body  of  the  work.  In  the  latter 
 part  is  an  Alphabetical  Index  of  the  writers,  and  also  an 
 Index  of  the  first  lines  of  the  hymns  and  poems.     The 
 
xii  PREFACE. 
 
 better  to  complete  the  Index  of  subjects,  I  have  given  to 
 a  few  pieces,  whose  titles  were  wanting,  such  designa- 
 tions as  seemed  to  me  proper.  In  other  instances,  where 
 the  authors  themselves  had  not  thus  indicated  the  themes 
 of  their  productions,  I  have  frequently  accepted  such 
 titles  as  I  have  found  supplied  in  one  or  another  of 
 the  Church  Collections.  In  only  three  or  four  cases 
 have  I  ventured  to  make  any  change  in  those  which 
 were  thus  furnished  by  writers  or  compilers.  Scarcely 
 more  numerous  have  been  the  slight  verbal  alterations 
 which  I  have  made  in  the  more  important  text  of  the 
 hymns  and  poems  themselves.  These  have  been  chiefly 
 attempted  where  there  had  evidently  been  a  slip  of  the 
 pen,  —  the  original  thought  remaining,  I  need  scarcely 
 add,  unvaried  by  any  act  of  mine.  From  first  to  last, 
 no  pains  have  been  spared  to  present  these  gathered 
 offerings  in  their  properly  authorized  form. 
 
 I  desire  to  express  my  grateful  acknowledgments  to 
 all  who  have  so  kindly  aided  me  in  my  work  :  to  the 
 numerous  authors  who  have  so  freely  permitted  me  to 
 make  use  of  their  songs  and  verses,  or  who  have  written 
 or  spoken  to  me  words  of  hearty  encouragement  and 
 helpful  suggestion  ;  to  my  venerable  and  excellent  friend 
 and  former  parishioner,  Lewis  G.  Pray,  Esq.,  of  Boston 
 Highlands,  for  the  interesting  letters  which  I  have  at 
 various  times  received  from  him  in  relation  to  the 
 earlier  Unitarian  Hymnology  in  this  country  ;  to  Rev. 
 F.  A.  Whitney,  of  Boston  (Brighton  District),  whose 
 valuable  accumulations  of  books,  pamphlets,  and  other 
 literary  stores,  illustrative  of  the  history  of  our  Liberal 
 Churches,  were  generously  opened  to  my  examination, 
 and  were  of  much  service  to  me;  to  the  Librarians  of 
 Harvard  College,  the  Essex  Institute,  Salem,  and  the 
 Long  Island  Historical  Society  and  the  Mercantile 
 Library    Association,    Brooklyn,    N.Y.,   for    the    many 
 
PREFACE.  xin 
 
 polite  favors  which  they  have  rendered  to  me  in  my 
 investigations  ;  to  Messrs.  J.  R.  Osgood  &  Co.,  for  their 
 permission  to  make  selections  from  their  published 
 works  of  Longfellow  and  Holmes,  and  from  the  Life  of 
 Theodore  Parker  by  Mr.  Frothingham  ;  to  Messrs.  D. 
 Appleton  &  Co.,  for  whatever  I  have  gleaned  from  their 
 editions  of  Bryant's  poems,  and  from  their  "  American 
 Cyclopaedia;"  to  various  authors  and  publishers  for 
 the  assistance  I  have  gained  in  writing  some  of  my 
 biographical  sketches  from  Underwood's  "  Hand-Book 
 of  English  Literature,"  Duyckinck's  "  Cyclopaedia  of 
 American  Literature,"  Allibone  s  "  Critical  Dictionary 
 of  English  Literature,"  Drake's  "  Dictionary  of  Amer- 
 ican Biography,"  and  Griswold's  "  Poets  and  Poetry  of 
 America  ; "  and  to  those  who  have  compiled  the  various 
 Collections  of  Hymns  and  edited  the  many  papers  and 
 magazines  from  which  I  have  so  often  copied,  for  the 
 aid  that  has  come  to  me  through  their  literary  labors. 
 
 I  dare  not  venture  the  thought,  that,  in  a  book  which 
 deals  so  largely  with  facts  or  dates,  with  scattered  or 
 fugitive  productions,  and  with  known  and  unknown  au- 
 thors, where  so  much  care  and  judgment  were  constantly 
 called  into  requisition,  I  have  not  made  mistakes.  I 
 have  done  what  I  could  to  avoid  them,  and  can  only 
 hope  they  will  be  found  to  be  few.  I  may  add,  that, 
 for  any  labor  of  mine  which  was  necessary  to  prepare 
 this  volume  for  the  press,  I  have  realized  a  sufficient 
 reward  in  a  wider  acquaintance  with  these  pure  and 
 gifted  bards  of  the  Liberal  Faith,  and  with  the  precious 
 contributions  which  they  have  made  to  the  great  store 
 of  Sacred  Song. 
 
 ALFRED    P.   PUTNAM. 
 
 Brooklyn,  N.Y.,  Nov.  3,  1S74. 
 
INDEX   OF   AUTHORS   AND    SUBJECTS. 
 
 James  Freeman  .  .  . 
 Hymn  of  the  Seasons 
 
 John  Davis  .... 
 The  Pilgrim  Fathers  . 
 Forefathers'  Day    .     . 
 
 Samuel  Davis  .  .  . 
 Pilgrim  Ode  .... 
 
 and 
 
 William  T.  Davis 
 Our  Fathers'  God  .     . 
 
 John  Quincy  Adams  . 
 Psalm  Nineteenth 
 Psalm    One    Hundred 
 Thirty-ninth  .     .     . 
 The  Death  of  Children 
 The  Hour-Glass     .     . 
 
 Samuel  Willard    .     . 
 
 For  a  Birthday  .     •     • 
 For  the  Peace  of  the  Church 
 Against  Unreasonable  Fears 
 The  Prayer  of  Penitence 
 Evening  Hymn  .... 
 The  Sure  Promises  of  God 
 Old  Age 
 
 PAGE 
 
 I 
 
 James  Flint 
 
 God  with  the  True  Worship 
 
 per  Everywhere  .  . 
 The  Beatitudes  .  .  . 
 Evening  Hymn  .  .  . 
 Remembrance  of  our  Fath 
 
 ers 
 
 Celebration  of  American  In- 
 dependence      
 
 Orcbnation  Hymn  for  a  Xew 
 Society 
 
 Harmony  Grove  Cemetery  . 
 
 John  Pierpont 
 
 Morning  Hvmn  for  a  Child 
 Evening  Hymn  for  a  Child 
 Works  of  Man  .  .  . 
 Works  of  God  .  .  . 
 Ordination  Hymn  .  . 
 Universal  Worship  . 
 The  Pilgrim  Fathers  . 
 The      Stone      Church 
 
 Quincy 
 
 Settlement  of  Bos+on 
 George  Washington  . 
 Temperance  Hymn  . 
 Charles  Follen  .  .  . 
 My  Father,  Mother,  Broth 
 
 ers,  Sisters      .... 
 Hymn  of  the  Last  Supper 
 Remembrance  of  Christ 
 lie  is  not  there       .     .     . 
 Consecration  at  Greenwood 
 
 Cemetery  .... 
 "  E  Pluribus  Unum  " 
 
 Andrews  Norton  .  .  . 
 .Trust  and  Submission  . 
 The    Death    of     a    Voun 
 
 Friend 
 
 Written    after    a    Summer 
 
 Shower 
 
 The  Parting 
 
 -5 
 
 26 
 
 27 
 
 28 
 
 30 
 31 
 3i 
 32 
 33 
 33 
 34 
 
 36 
 37 
 38 
 39 
 41 
 
 41 
 
 42 
 43 
 43 
 
 44 
 45 
 
 46 
 
 47 
 
 48 
 
 49 
 50 
 
XVI        INDEX  OF  AUTHORS  AND  SUBJECTS. 
 
 Fortitude 
 
 Funeral  Hymn  .... 
 On  the  Close  of  the  Year 
 Hymn  for  the  Dedication  of 
 a  Church 
 
 Eliza  Lee  Follen  .  .  . 
 Sabbath  Day  .... 
 Sunset  on  the  Hills  .  . 
 "  To  whom  shall  we  go  ? " 
 Hymn  of  Praise  .  .  . 
 We  never  part  from  Thee 
 
 On  Prayer 
 
 The  Twenty- Ninth  Psalm 
 Goodness  of  God  .     .     . 
 Thy  Will  be  done       .     . 
 
 Sarah  W.  Livermore     . 
 The  Coming  of  Christ     . 
 The  Western  Churches 
 Hymn  for  Ordination 
 For  the  Church  at  Wilton 
 
 Charles  Sprague  .  .  . 
 Dedication  Hymn  .  .  . 
 Ordination  Hymn  .  . 
 Installation  Hymn  .  . 
 Children's  Hymn  .  .  . 
 Death  of  an  Infant  .  . 
 Mount  Auburn  .  .  . 
 The  Brothers  .... 
 The  Winged  Worshippers 
 
 Samuel  Gilman  .... 
 Hymn  for  Baptism      .     . 
 Communion  Hymns 
 Hymn  for  an  Ordination 
 
 Caroline  Gilman  .  .  . 
 Sabbath  Day  .     .     . 
 
 God  our  Father      .     .     . 
 Hymn  for  a  Child  .     .     . 
 The  Voice  from  the  Cloud 
 The  Faith  is  Beautiful    . 
 
 Lewis  G.  Pray  .... 
 For  a  Rural  Excursion  . 
 Monody 
 
 PAGE 
 
 51 
 52 
 52 
 
 54 
 
 55 
 55 
 56 
 57 
 57 
 58 
 58 
 59 
 60 
 60 
 
 61 
 62 
 62 
 63 
 64 
 
 64 
 
 65 
 66 
 
 67 
 6S 
 69 
 ■  69 
 70 
 7i 
 
 72 
 
 73 
 74,75 
 
 75 
 
 76 
 78 
 78 
 
 79 
 80 
 
 83 
 
 Ordination  Hymn  .     .     .     . 
 
 Silent  Work 
 
 Penitence 
 
 The  Cross  of  Christ  .     .     . 
 
 Nathaniel  L.  Frothingham 
 Ordination  of  a  Minister 
 Christ's  Manifestation 
 The  Church  .... 
 Hymn  of  Dedication  . 
 Communion  Hymn     . 
 
 Strength 
 
 Homeward    from     For 
 
 Lands    
 
 "Arise  and  eat  "  .  . 
 Cast   thy  Bread   upon 
 
 Waters       .... 
 Federal      Street     Meet 
 
 House 
 
 Dedication  Hymn  .  . 
 A  Lament  .... 
 Hymn  for  the  Blind  . 
 Prayer  and  the  Dead 
 
 eign 
 
 Henry  Ware,  Jr.    .     . 
 
 Resurrection  of  Christ 
 The  Truth  as  it  is  in  J< 
 On  Opening  our  Organ 
 Around  the  Throne    . 
 Seasons  of  Prayer  . 
 Hymn  for  Ordination 
 The  God  of  our  Fathers 
 Family  Meeting     .     . 
 Hymn  in  Sickness 
 Hymn  for  Dedication 
 The  Progress  of  Freedom 
 
 William  Cullen  Bryant, 
 "  The     Lord     giveth    wis 
 
 dom" 
 
 "  Thy  word  is  truth  " 
 
 "  His    tender    mercies    are 
 
 over  all  his  works  " 
 "  Blessed     are     thev     that 
 
 the 
 
 ng 
 
 mourn    
 
 A  broken  and  a  contrite 
 
 84 
 
 85 
 86 
 
 87 
 
 87 
 
 88 
 
 89 
 90 
 
 91 
 92 
 92 
 
 94 
 95 
 
 97 
 
 99 
 100 
 101 
 102 
 
 103 
 
 105 
 105 
 106 
 107 
 108 
 no 
 III 
 III 
 
 112 
 
 112 
 
 "3 
 
 114 
 
 115 
 116 
 
 117 
 
 117 
 
INDEX  OF  AUTHORS  AND  SUBJECTS.       xvii 
 
 thy 
 
 heart,  O  God  !  thou  wilt 
 
 not  despise  "       .     . 
 "  I  low     amiable     arc 
 
 tabernacles "       .     . 
 "  I  will  send  them  proph 
 
 cts  and  apostles  "  .  . 
 "Thou,  God,  seest  me  " 
 The  Mother's  Hymn  .  . 
 Communion  Hymn  .  . 
 "  Thou  hast  put  all  things 
 
 under  his  feet  "... 
 
 The  Past 
 
 The  Future  Life  .  .  . 
 The  Conqueror's  Grave  . 
 The  Death  of  Lincoln  . 
 u  Receive  thy  tight  "  .  . 
 Mutual  Kindness   .     .     . 
 
 Samuel  B.  Sumner      .     . 
 
 Penitence 
 
 "Only  believe"  .  .  . 
 The  Family  Altar  .  .  . 
 "  Lovest  thou  me?".  . 
 Spring  Time  .... 
 Dedication  Hymn  .  .  . 
 The  Good  Father  .     .     . 
 
 W.  B.  O.  Peabody  .    .     . 
 The  Creator .... 
 
 Sin 
 
 What     Jesus     Christ     has 
 
 done  for  us  ...  . 
 The  Future  State  of  Ilappi 
 
 ness 
 
 Spring 
 
 Summer 
 
 Autumn 
 
 Winter 
 
 The  Thunder  Storm  . 
 
 Sunrise 
 
 The  Autumn  Evening 
 The  Rising  Moon  .  . 
 Prayer  before  Rising  . 
 Prayer  before  Sleeping 
 Hymn  of  Nature  .  . 
 Who  is  thy  Neighbor? 
 
 PACE 
 
 nS 
 
 119 
 
 120 
 120 
 121 
 122 
 
 124 
 
 125 
 127 
 129 
 129 
 130 
 
 130 
 
 *33 
 
 T34 
 134 
 135 
 136 
 *37 
 
 *37 
 
 139 
 
 139 
 
 140 
 
 141 
 142 
 142 
 
 143 
 144 
 
 145 
 MS 
 146 
 
 147 
 14S 
 149 
 M9 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Oliver  W.  B.  Peabody  .     .  152 
 
 Oh  !    who  that  has  gazed, 
 
 in  the  stillness  of  even     .  152 
 
 Francis  Brown 153 
 
 Rural  Celebration  ....  154 
 
 Hymn  for  Ordination      .     .  154 
 
 Louisa  Jane  Hall      ...  155 
 
 Waking  Dreams     ....  156 
 
 Grow  not  Old 157 
 
 The  Lord's  Prayer      .     .     .  157 
 
 True  Prayer 158 
 
 Service  in  the  Hereafter     .  158 
 
 William  Henry  Furness  .  159 
 
 The  Soul  panting  after  God  160 
 
 Morning 161 
 
 Evening 162 
 
 Penitential 163 
 
 The  Soul 164 
 
 "  She     is     not     dead,    but 
 
 sleepeth " 165 
 
 A  Prayer  for  Divine  Aid  .  166 
 The  Widow  of  Nain  .     .     .166 
 
 The  Want  within  ....  167 
 
 Jesus  our  Leader  ....  168 
 Communion  Hymns  .     .  i63,  169 
 
 The  Father's  Presence  .  .  170 
 "He  that  dwclleth  in  love 
 
 dwelleth  in  God"  ...  170 
 
 Thomas  Gray,  Jr 171 
 
 Morning  Hymn      ....  172 
 
 Sunday  School  Anniversary  172 
 
 Prayer  for  a  Blessing.  .  .  173 
 An  Opening  Hymn  for  the 
 
 Sunday  School   ....  174 
 
 Ordination  Hymn  .     .     .     .  175 
 
 Good-Night  .* 176 
 
 William  Niavili 177 
 
 Consecration  of  Cambridge 
 
 Cemetery 178 
 
 Voices  from  the  Past  .  .  179 
 The  Christian  Preacher  and 
 
 Teacher 1S0 
 
xvin     INDEX  OF  AUTHORS  AND  SUBJECTS. 
 
 Light  on  the  Cloud     . 
 Jared  Sparks    .... 
 Festival  Hymn  .     .     .     , 
 Communion  Hymn     .     , 
 Altiora    petamus,     Christo 
 
 Duce 
 
 A  New  Year's  Hymn      . 
 "  Serve  God  and  be  cheer 
 
 ful" 
 
 Ordination  Hymn       .     . 
 
 A.  R.  St.  John  .... 
 Dedication  Hymn  ... 
 Installation  Hymn  .  . 
 The  Chapel  at  Bridgeport 
 
 Conn 
 
 The  Mother 
 
 William  Parsons  Lunt 
 Our  Forefathers  .  .  , 
 The  Christmas  Tree  .  . 
 The  Higher  Birth  .  .  , 
 "Lux  ecce  surgit  aurea 
 The  Sent  of  the  Father  , 
 Installation  Hymn  .  . 
 Hymn  for  a  Sunday  School 
 The  Chanting  Cherubs  . 
 Creation's  Prayer  .     .     . 
 
 Frederic  Henry  Hedge 
 An  Invocation  .... 
 Beneath  Thine  Hammer 
 The  Crucifixion  .  .  . 
 Christmas  Hymn  .  .  . 
 Hymn  for  Ordination 
 The  Morning  Star.  .  . 
 Song  of  the  Angels  .  . 
 Easter  Hymn  .... 
 Luther's  Hymn .... 
 Veni,  Sancte  Spiritus 
 
 Henry  Wadsworth  Long 
 fellow      ..... 
 
 Hymn  to  the  Night     .     . 
 
 A  Psalm  of  Life      .     .     . 
 
 The  Reaper  and  the  Flow 
 ers 
 
 181 
 182 
 183 
 
 185 
 186 
 
 187 
 188 
 
 189 
 190 
 191 
 
 192 
 193 
 194 
 
 196 
 197 
 198 
 199 
 200 
 201 
 202 
 203 
 203 
 
 205 
 206 
 207 
 208 
 209 
 210 
 211 
 212 
 213 
 214 
 216 
 
 217 
 218 
 219 
 
 220 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Footsteps  of  Angels  .     .     .  221 
 
 The  Rainy  Day 222 
 
 God's-Acre 222 
 
 The  Arsenal  at  Springfield  223 
 
 Resignation 224 
 
 Suspiria 225 
 
 Hymn  for  my  Brother's  Or- 
 dination        226 
 
 The  Ladder  of  St.  Augustine  226 
 
 The  Two  Angels    ....  228 
 
 Children 228 
 
 A  Day  of  Sunshine     .     .     .  229 
 
 Weariness 230 
 
 Palingenesis 231 
 
 Sarah  Elizabeth  Miles     .  232 
 
 Looking  unto  Jesus    .     .     .  232 
 
 Heaven 233 
 
 In  Affliction 234 
 
 The  Hour  of  Darkness  .     .  235 
 
 "  Thou,  God,  seest  me  "      .  236 
 
 O  Lord,  deliver     ....  237 
 
 Stephen    Greenleaf    Bul- 
 
 finch 238 
 
 Birth  of  John  the  Baptist    .  240 
 
 Birth  of  Jesus 240 
 
 Conversation  with  Nicode- 
 
 mus 241 
 
 The  Sabbath  Day  ....  242 
 Jesus  walks  on  the  Sea  .  .  243 
 The  Testimony  of  Miracles  244 
 The  Barren  Fig-Tree .  .  .  245 
 Thoughts  on  the  Saviour  .  245 
 Children  brought  to  Christ  246 
 The  Use  of  Present  Oppor- 
 tunities    246 
 
 Institution    of    the    Lord's 
 
 Supper 247 
 
 Meditation 24S 
 
 The  Communion  of  Saints  .  249 
 Akabah.  To  the  Memory  of 
 
 Rev.  W.  P.  Lunt,  D.D.    .  250 
 
 Lines  to  Rev.  Dr.  Newell   .  252 
 
 Oliver  Wendell  Holmes    .  252 
 
 A  Birthday  Tribute.  J.  F.  C.  254 
 
 The  Chambered  Nautilus  .  255 
 
INDEX  OF  AUTHORS  AND  SUBJECTS.         xix 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The  Fromise 256 
 
 Hymn  of  Trust 257 
 
 A  Sun- Day  Hymn      .    .     .  257 
 
 The  Last  Look 25S 
 
 International  Ode  ....  259 
 
 Army  Hymn 260 
 
 Mary  Whatwell  Hale    .    .  261 
 
 Home 263 
 
 Universal  Adoration  .     .     .  264 
 
 God  nigh  to  the  Penitent     .  264 
 "  Life    has   no   charm   for 
 
 me" 265 
 
 Communion  Hymn     .     .     .  266 
 
 Aspiration 267 
 
 Sunday     School     Festival, 
 
 1837 267 
 
 Evening  Hymn 268 
 
 Consecration  of  Mt.  Pleas- 
 ant Cemetery,  Taunton    .  269 
 The  Peace  of  God  ....  270 
 "  Upon  whom  doth  not  his 
 
 light  arise" 271 
 
 Invocation 272 
 
 The  True  Source  of  Strength  273 
 "All  thy  works  shall  praise 
 
 thee " 274 
 
 Lines  written  after  an  Or- 
 dination        274 
 
 The  Early  Dead      ....  275 
 
 The  Returning  Wanderer   .  276 
 
 The  Son  of  God     ....  277 
 
 The  Voice  of  the  Flowers  .  279 
 
 Sabbath  Hymn 2S0 
 
 A  Mother's  Counsel  .     .     .  281 
 
 Christmas 281 
 
 Temperance  Anniversary    .  282 
 
 James  Freeman  Clarke  .     .  283 
 
 llvmn  and  Prayer .     .     .     .  285 
 
 Jacob's  Well 286 
 
 The  Violet 2S7 
 
 The  Prodigal 2S8 
 
 Baptism  of  a  Child     .     .     .  288 
 
 Baptism  of  Children   .     .     .  2S9 
 
 Feast  of  the  Reformation    .  289 
 
 Ordaining  a  Western    Mis 
 
 sionary 
 
 Cana     ....•*.. 
 In  Spirit  and  Truth     .     . 
 
 New  Heavens  and  New  Earth  293 
 Closing  Aspiration      .     .     .     293 
 
 the 
 
 Theodore  Parker  .     . 
 
 Dedication  Hymn  .     . 
 
 Evening 
 
 Jesus     
 
 The  Almighty  Love    . 
 
 A  Prayer  
 
 The  Spirit  of  Jesus    . 
 The   Way,    the    Truth, 
 
 Life 
 
 The  Saviour's  Gospel 
 The  Higher  Good  .     . 
 The  Father's  Hand    .     , 
 Thankfulness  and  Trust 
 The  Good  Shepherd  .     , 
 
 Chandler  Robbins  .    .     . 
 "  Speak,  Lord,  for  thy  ser 
 
 vant  heareth  "... 
 
 Evening    Hymn.     Close   of 
 
 Worship 
 
 Edmund  Hamilton  Sears 
 Christmas  Song  .  .  . 
 Peace  on  Earth .... 
 "  Feed  my  lambs  "  .  . 
 Above  the  Storms  .     .     . 
 
 Abiel  Abbot  Livermore  . 
 The  Love  of  the  Brethren 
 To  a  Snow-flake  .  .  . 
 Spirits  Calling  .... 
 
 William  Henry  Burleigh 
 Still  will  we  trust  .     .     . 
 "  Rejoice   in   the    Lord    al 
 
 ways  " 
 
 "  Blessed     are     they     that 
 
 mourn " 
 
 Needed  Blessings  .    .    . 
 Faith's  Repose  .... 
 
 290 
 291 
 292 
 
 294 
 
 296 
 
 297 
 298 
 298 
 
 299 
 
 300 
 
 300 
 301 
 301 
 302 
 302 
 302 
 
 3°3 
 3°4 
 
 305 
 
 305 
 306 
 308 
 
 309 
 310 
 
 312 
 
 3T3 
 3l3 
 3J4 
 
 3^5 
 
 3-6 
 
 3J7 
 
 3i7 
 3i8 
 3l9 
 
XX  INDEX  OF  AUTHORS  AND  SUBJECTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 A  Psalm  of  Night  ....  320 
 
 The  Harvest  Call  ....  321 
 
 Ordination  Hymn  ....  322 
 
 Samuel  D.  Robbins      .    .     .  323 
 
 The  Master 324 
 
 The  Day 325 
 
 The  Compass 325 
 
 Communion  Hymn     .     .     .  326 
 
 Sunset 327 
 
 Half-century  Celebration    .  327 
 
 Ordination  Hymn  ....  328 
 
 Baca 328 
 
 Euthanasia 329 
 
 The  Snow-Line      ....  330 
 
 Lead  me 330 
 
 Frederick  A.  Whitney  .  .  331 
 "  I  have  set  watchmen  upon 
 
 thy  walls" 332 
 
 "And   in   this   place  will  I 
 
 give  peace "  .  .  .  .  333 
 "  Pray  ye  therefore  the  Lord 
 
 of  the  harvest "  .     .     .     .  334 
 
 Jones  Very 335 
 
 The  Son 336 
 
 The  Spirit -Land     ....  337 
 
 Change .  337 
 
 The  Prayer 338 
 
 Beauty 338 
 
 The  New  Birth 339 
 
 The  Presence 339 
 
 The  Light  within  ....  340 
 
 As  ye  sow,  so  shall  ye  reap  340 
 
 The  Hours 341 
 
 The  Dew 342 
 
 The  Efficacy  of  a  Mother's 
 
 Prayer 342 
 
 Our  Soldiers'  Graves  .     .     .  343 
 
 The  Promise  of  the  Spirit  .  344 
 
 Childhood's  Songs      .     .     .  345 
 
 How  come  the  Dead  .     .     .  345 
 
 The  Coming  of  the  Lord     .  346 
 
 Cyrus  A.  Bartol     ....  347 
 
 Beauty  of  the  World  .     .     .  348 
 
 The  Mountains 349 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The  Enduring  Kingdom      .  349 
 
 Jubilee  Hymn 350 
 
 Morning  and  Evening  Praise  351 
 
 The  Children  in  the  Temple  351 
 On  Visiting  my  Home  after 
 
 Forty  Years 352 
 
 Charles  T.  Brooks     .    .    .  353 
 
 The  Poor 354 
 
 The  Faithful  Monk  .  .  .  355 
 Dedication  of  Plummer  Hall, 
 
 Salem 356 
 
 Saint  John's  Vision    .     .     .  357 
 
 An  Evening  Hymn      .     .     .  358 
 
 Installation  Hymn  ....  359 
 
 The  Memory  of  Channing  .  360 
 On  the  Death   of  a  Young 
 
 Artist 361 
 
 In  Memoriam.    H.  T.  Tuck- 
 
 erman 362 
 
 Hymn  for  a  Festival  .  .  .  364 
 Hymn  for  the  End  of   the 
 
 Year  187 1 365 
 
 Such  is  Life 366 
 
 The  Great  Voices  ....  366 
 
 Hymn  for  Visitation  Day    .  367 
 
 For  the  Newport  Church    .  367 
 
 Death  of  a  Young  Man  .     .  36S 
 
 In  Memory  of  M.  K.  H.      .  369 
 
 Our  Country      ......  370 
 
 Novalis's   Ninth    Spiritual 
 
 Song 371 
 
 Translations  from  the  Poetry 
 
 of  the  Brahmins  .     .     .372,  ^73 
 
 Washington  Very  ....  373 
 The    Old    Putney    Burial- 
 
 Place 374 
 
 The  Snow 375 
 
 Spring 375 
 
 James  Richardson  ....  376 
 
 God's  True  Temple    .     .     .  378 
 
 Trust  in  Man 379 
 
 The  Lost  Art 379 
 
 Truth  and  Nature  ....  3S0 
 
 , 
 
INDEX  OF  AUTHORS  AND  SUBJECTS.        xxi 
 
 The  Hymn  of  Summer 
 One  in  Christ     .     .     . 
 
 George  Osgood  .... 
 Walnut  Grove  Cemetery 
 The  Master's  Call  and  Lead 
 Lines  in  an  Album 
 Lines  on  the  Loss  of  a  Child 
 The  Beloved  Physician 
 Tribute  to  Ur.  Willard 
 
 Robert  C.  Waterston 
 Supplication      .     . 
 Worship  .... 
 
 Truth 
 
 God  of  the  Soul     . 
 The  Son  of  God     . 
 Here  and  Now  .     . 
 Faith  and  Ix)\*e.     . 
 Nature  and  the  Soul 
 Looking  unto  Christ 
 For  a  Religious  Festival 
 Christian  Benevolence    . 
 Hymn  for  a  Sunday  School 
 On  the  Death  of  a  Child 
 Anniversary  Hymn     . 
 Parting  Hymn    .     .     . 
 
 The  Soul 
 
 Ceaseless  Aspirations 
 Mortal  and  Immortal 
 The  Crown  of  Life  . 
 The  Departed    .     .     . 
 
 the 
 
 Anna  C.  L.  Waterston 
 The  Epiphany   .     .     . 
 On    an    Engraving    of 
 Crucifixion      .     .     . 
 Together.      A    Tribute    to 
 
 Col.  Robert  G.  Shaw 
 Installation  Hymn 
 
 Thomas  Hill 
 
 Installation  Hymn 
 The  Eternal  Word 
 Dedication  Hymn  . 
 Carpe  Diem  .     .     . 
 
 3§3 
 
 3S3 
 
 3S5 
 
 3S5 
 3S6 
 
 3S7 
 
 3SS 
 
 39o 
 
 39i 
 392 
 392 
 393 
 393 
 394 
 394 
 395 
 396 
 396 
 39S 
 399 
 399 
 400 
 401 
 402 
 403 
 403 
 404 
 
 405 
 
 406 
 
 4^7 
 
 4o3 
 
 409 
 409 
 
 410 
 411 
 412 
 412 
 413 
 
 Quando  veniet  Lux  ? . 
 Redeeming  Love  .  . 
 Easter  Hymn  .  .  . 
 Memorial  Hall,  Cambrid 
 
 Antiope 
 
 Submission  .... 
 "  Out  of  the  Depths  " 
 God,  our  Eternal  Joy 
 
 John  Weiss     .... 
 
 Epiphany 
 
 For  a  Summer  Festival 
 Ordination  Hymn  .     . 
 Blest  Spirit  of  my  Life 
 Hope  of  Immortality . 
 
 John  W.  Weidemeyer 
 
 Happiness     .... 
 The  Spirit's  Revelations 
 Reliance  on  God     .     . 
 
 and 
 
 Samuel  Longfellow  . 
 
 John  and  Jesus  .  .  . 
 A  New  Commandment 
 Life's  Mission  .  .  . 
 They  looked  unto  Him, 
 
 were  lightened  .  . 
 Ordination  Hymn  .  . 
 Prayer  for  Inspiration 
 Father,  I  have  sinned 
 The  Church  Universal 
 Peace  on  Earth  .  .  . 
 "  Behold,     the     fields 
 
 white  "  .... 
 Hymn  of  Winter  .  . 
 Vesper  Hymns  .     .     . 
 
 James  T.  Fields     .    . 
 Our  Fireside  Evening  Hymn 
 A  Poor  Man's  Epitaph 
 The  Flight  of  Angels  . 
 The  Dead      .... 
 Summer  Evening  Melody 
 To  Thomas  Starr  King 
 Dii      fi >r  :i  Y  nil)';  ( rirl 
 Eventide  in  the. Country 
 A  Character 
 
 PAGIC 
 
 414 
 4'5 
 415 
 416 
 
 417 
 417 
 418 
 418 
 
 419 
 420 
 421 
 422 
 423 
 424 
 
 424 
 
 425 
 
 426 
 427 
 
 428 
 
 429 
 
 430 
 430 
 
 43* 
 431 
 432 
 433 
 434 
 434 
 
 435 
 435 
 436 
 
 437 
 
 433 
 433 
 
 439 
 4.19 
 4  jo 
 440 
 441 
 442 
 44J 
 
xxn       INDEX  OF  AUTHORS  AND  SUBJECTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Moon -rise  at  Sea   ....  442 
 
 Home 443 
 
 Hymn       for      "  Children's 
 
 Praise " 444 
 
 Hymn  for  the  Unitarian  Fes- 
 tival,  1853 444 
 
 Samuel  Johnson     ....  445 
 
 For  Divine  Strength  .  .  .  446 
 The  Reformer's  Vow .  .  .  446 
 In  Time  of  War  .  .  .  .  447 
 The  Conflict  of  Life  ...  448 
 The  Church's  Work  ...  449 
 Dedication  of  a  Chapel  .  .  449 
 Made  Perfect  through  Suf- 
 fering      450 
 
 Inspiration 451 
 
 The  City  of  God    ....  452 
 
 The  Power  of  Jesus   .     .     .  453 
 
 Paul 453 
 
 Octavius  B.  Frothingham.  454 
 
 The  Soldiers  of  the  Cross  .  455 
 
 Caroline  A.  Mason    .     .     .  456 
 
 Waking 456 
 
 Not  Yet 458 
 
 In  Sickness 458 
 
 Dark  Hours .....  459 
 
 Daily  Bread ■  .  460 
 
 A  Song  in  the  Night  .     .     .  461 
 
 Beauty  for  Ashes   ....  463 
 
 Matin  Hymn 464 
 
 Eventide 465 
 
 Lydia  L.  A.  Very  ....  466 
 
 To  the  Virgin 466 
 
 To  the  Unknown  Christ      .  467 
 
 The  Promises 46S 
 
 The  First  Cable     .     .     .     .  46S 
 
 William  Rounseville  Al- 
 ger      469 
 
 The  Bitter  Cup  Sweet    .     .  470 
 
 Funeral  Hymn 471 
 
 My  Heart 471 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The  Better  Part     ....  472 
 
 Christmas  Hymn   .     ...  472 
 
 Hymn  at  Divinity  School    .  473 
 Installation  of  Thomas  Starr 
 
 King 474 
 
 Fourth  of  July 474 
 
 A  Higher  Devotion    .     .     .  475 
 
 The  Result 475 
 
 Robert  Collyer     ....  476 
 
 Dedication  Hymn  ....  477 
 
 Unity  Church 478 
 
 Thomas   Wentworth 
 ginson 
 
 Hig- 
 
 For  the  Graduating  Class, 
 Cambridge  Theological 
 School,  1847    .    . 
 
 The  Mystery  of  God 
 
 The  Nation's  Sin   . 
 
 The  Hope  of  Man  . 
 
 I   will  arise,  and  go 
 Father  .... 
 
 Decoration    .     .     . 
 
 to 
 
 Frances  M.  Chesbro 
 A  Memory    .     .    . 
 Hymn  of  Peace  .     . 
 Under  the  Snow    . 
 
 Albert  Laighton  . 
 To  my  Soul  .  .  . 
 New  England  .  . 
 The  Midnight  Voice 
 To  a  Bigot  .  .  . 
 The  Veiled  Grief  . 
 A  Hymn  of  Confession 
 Dedication  Hymn . 
 The  Two  Worlds  . 
 
 Ode 
 
 Under  the  Leaves  . 
 Trust  in  the  Saviour 
 
 Martha  Perry  Lowe 
 Song  of  David  .     . 
 Easter  Even .     .     . 
 
 my 
 
 478 
 
 479 
 480 
 481 
 482 
 
 482 
 483 
 
 484 
 
 485 
 486 
 488 
 
 489 
 
 489 
 490 
 490 
 491 
 492 
 492 
 
 493 
 494 
 495 
 495 
 496 
 
 497 
 
 497 
 498 
 
INDEX  OF  AUTHORS  AND  SUBJECTS.      xxin 
 
 Work 
 
 Call  to  the  Churches 
 The  Rock  of  Ages 
 
 PAGR 
 
 499 
 499 
 
 500 
 
 Sara  Hammond  Palfrey    .  501 
 
 The  Child's  Plea    ....  501 
 
 The  Exchange 502 
 
 Quare  Tristis 503 
 
 The  Seeker 503 
 
 William  Everett  ....  504 
 
 "  Adeste  Fideles  "...  505 
 
 The  God  of  Tenderness  .     .  506 
 
 Hymn  for  the  Seaside     .     .  506 
 
 Prayer  against  Conceit  .  .  507 
 To  us  there  is  one  God,  the 
 
 Father 50S 
 
 The  Children's  God   .     .     .  509 
 
 William    Channing    Gan- 
 nett       510 
 
 "The  Hills  of  the  Lord"    .  510 
 
 Sunday  on  the  Hill-Top  .  512 
 The   Secret    Place    of    the 
 
 Mcst  High 513 
 
 "Consider   the  Lilies  how 
 
 they  Grow  " 514 
 
 Dedication  Hymn  .     .     .     .  515 
 
 Listening  for  God  ....  516 
 
 of 
 
 John  White  Chadwick  . 
 
 Hymn  for  Visitation  Day 
 Scaled  Orders  .  .  . 
 Ordination  Hymn  .  . 
 Sadness  and  Gladness 
 After  Sweet  Singing  . 
 Another  Year  .  .  . 
 Charles  Sumner     .     . 
 
 Charles  H.  A.  Dall  . 
 After  a  Storm  in  the  Bay 
 
 Bengal  ..... 
 The  Southern  Cross  . 
 Hunger  and  Thirst  . 
 "In   thy  light  shall  we 
 
 light" 
 
 Death 
 
 The  Power  of  Truth  . 
 
 Caroline  H.  Dall  .    , 
 What  a  Blue-bird  said  to  a 
 
 Little  boy  .... 
 The  Old  Red  Rock  . 
 At  a  Death-Bed      .     . 
 
 William  C.  H.  Dall  . 
 
 God's  Harvest  .  .  . 
 "It  is  I,  be  not  afraid  ' 
 The  Grave  of  Agassiz 
 
 Scattered 
 Excelsior 
 
 PAGB 
 517 
 
 517 
 518 
 520 
 
 523 
 524 
 525 
 
 525 
 
 526 
 
 527 
 S27 
 
 527 
 528 
 
 529 
 
 530 
 
 53i 
 533 
 533 
 
 534 
 534 
 535 
 536 
 537 
 538 
 
SINGERS    AND    SONGS 
 
 LIBERAL     FAITH. 
 
 JAMES    FREEMAN. 
 (1759-1835.) 
 
 Rev.  JAMES  Freeman,  D.D.,  was  born  in  Charlestown,  Mass.,  April  22, 
 1759,  and  was  the  son  of  Constant  Freeman,  a  descendant  of  Samuel 
 Freeman,  who  came  to  this  country  in  the  first  half  of  the  seventeenth 
 century,  and  was  one  of  the  early  proprietors  of  Watertown,  Mass.,  which 
 was  settled  in  1630.  James  was  educated  in  the  public  Latin  School 
 in  Boston  and  at  Harvard  College.  After  having  graduated  at  the 
 latter  in  1777,  he  visited  his  relatives  at  Cape  Cod,  and  there  engaged 
 in  disciplining  a  company  of  men  who  were  about  to  join  the  Colonial 
 troops.  In  17S0,  while  sailing  to  Quebec,  he  was  captured  by  a  priva- 
 teer and  was  for  some  time  detained  as  a  prisoner  in  that  city.  Return- 
 ing to  Boston  in  the  summer  of  1782,  and  being  a  candidate  for  the 
 ministry,  he  was  invited,  in  September  of  that  year,  to  be  Reader  at 
 King's  Chapel,  which  was  then  an  Episcopal  Church,  and  which,  having 
 been  founded  in  16S6,  was  the  first  church  of  that  communion  in  New 
 England.  Soon  after  his  settlement,  the  church  consented  to  modify 
 its  Liturgy  to  suit  Mr.  Freeman's  growing  Anti-Trinitarian  views  and  its 
 own  advancing  liberal  thought  and  sentiment.  "  Thus,"  says  Rev.  F. 
 W.  P.  Greenwood,  D.D.,  his  colleague  and  successor  at  King's  Chapel, 
 "the  first  Episcopal  Church  in  New  England  became  the  first  Unita- 
 rian Church  in  the  New  World."  Mr.  Freeman  was  the  first  avowed 
 preacher  of  Unitarianism  in  the  United  States.  As  it  was  impossible  for 
 him,  under  such  circumstances,  to  procure  a  regular  Episcopal  ordina- 
 tion, the  church  itself  ordained  him,  Nov.  18,  1787.  He  was  married, 
 July  17,  17SS,  to  Martha  (Curtis)  Clarke,  the  widow  of  Samuel  Clarke, 
 .  merchant  of  Boston.  He  had  no  children,  though  Mrs.  Freeman 
 by  her  first  marriage  had  one  son,  who  was  the  father  of  Rev.  James 
 Freeman  Clarke,  D.D.  In  1S11,  he  received  the  degree  of  D.D.  from 
 Harvard  College.  He  resigned  his  pastorate  in  1826,  and  retired  to  a 
 country  residence  near  Boston,  where  he  died,  Nov.  14,  1835. 
 
 1 
 
2  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 Dr.  Freeman's  labors  in  behalf  of  the  public  school  system  of  his 
 adopted  city  were  manifold  and  most  beneficent.  He  was  one  of  the 
 founders  of  the  Massachusetts  Historical  Society,  and  was  a  Member  of 
 the  American  Academy  of  Arts  and  Sciences.  In  1799,  he  published 
 a  "  Collection  of  Psalms  and  Hymns  for  Public  Worship,"  the  psalms 
 being  taken  from  Tate  and  Brady,  and  the  hymns  from  Enfield's  and 
 other  English  compilations.  He  is  said  to  have  been  assisted  in  the  prep- 
 aration of  this  Hymn-book  for  use  in  his  own  church,  by  the  father  of 
 Rev.  Samuel  J.  May,  Col.  Joseph  May,  to  whom  a  monument  has  lately 
 been  erected  in  King's  Chapel.  Dr.  Freeman  contributed  numerous 
 articles  to  the  papers  and  magazines,  and  published  various  pamphlets 
 and  volumes  of  sermons.  His  style  as  a  writer  has  often  been  spoken  of 
 as  a  model  of  pure  English.  This  venerated  father  of  the  Liberal  Faith 
 in  America  is  described  to  us  as  a  person  of  benignant  look,  of  kind  and 
 affable  manners,  of  a  cheerful  and  benevolent  spirit,  and  of  a  pure,  just, 
 and  blameless  walk  among  men. 
 
 The  only  hymn  which  we  find  ascribed  to  him  appeared  originally  in 
 his  own  Collection,  and  has  since  been  admitted  extensively  into  similar 
 books  for  the  sanctuary.  It  is  an  adaptation  to  church  music  of  Thom- 
 son's Hymn  on  the  Seasons. 
 
 HYMN    OF   THE    SEASONS. 
 
 T    ORD  of  the  worlds  below  ! 
 
 On  earth  thy  glories  shine  ; 
 The  changing  seasons  show 
 Thy  skill  and  power  divine. 
 
 In  all  we  see 
 
 A  God  appears  ; 
 
 The  rolling  years 
 
 Are  full  of  thee. 
 
 Forth  in  the  flowery  spring, 
 We  see  thy  beauty  move  ; 
 The  birds  on  branches -sing 
 Thy  tenderness  and  love  ; 
 
 Wide  flush  the  hills  ; 
 
 The  air  is  balm  : 
 
 Devotion's  calm 
 
 Our  bosom  fills. 
 
THE  DA  VISES. 
 
 Then  come,  in  robes  of  light, 
 The  summer's  flaming  days  j 
 The  sun,  thine  image  bright, 
 Thy  majesty  displays  ; 
 
 And  oft  thy  voice 
 
 In  thunder  rolls ; 
 
 But  still  our  souls 
 
 In  thee  rejoice. 
 
 In  autumn,  a  rich  feast 
 Thy  common  bounty  gives 
 To  man,  and  bird,  and  beast, 
 And  every  thing  that  lives. 
 Thy  liberal  care, 
 At  morn,  and  noon, 
 And  harvest  moon, 
 Our  lips  declare. 
 
 In  winter,  awful  thou  ! 
 With  storms  around  thee  cast 
 The  leafless  forests  bow 
 Beneath  thy  northern  blast. 
 While  tempests  lower, 
 To  thee,  dread  King, 
 We  homage  bring, 
 And  own  thy  power. 
 
 JOHN      DAVIS. 
 
 (1761-1847-) 
 
 IT'  >\\  John  Davis,  LL.D.,  born  in  Plymouth,  Mass.,  Jan.  25,  1761,  was 
 the  son  of  Thomas  and  Mercy  (Hedge)  Davis.  He  attended  the  schools 
 of  Alexander  Scammel  and  Peleg  Wadsworth,  the  former  an  Adjutant- 
 General  of  the  American  Army,  who  was  killed  at  the  battle  of  York- 
 town,  and  the  latter  the  grandfather  of  Henry  Wadsworth  Longfellow. 
 Having  entered  Harvard  College  in   1777,  he  graduated  with  honor  at 
 
4  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 the  Commencement  in  1781,  on  which  occasion  he  was  the  class  poet. 
 He  afterward  taught  school  in  Plymouth,  and,  still  later,  was  a  teacher 
 in  the  family  of  Joseph  Otis,  of  Barnstable,  the  brother  of  James  Otis. 
 He  studied  law  with  Oakes  Angier,  of  Bridgewater,  and  subsequently 
 with  Benjamin  Lincoln,  son  of  General  Lincoln  of  the  Revolution, 
 and  began  the  practice  of  his  profession  in  Plymouth  in  1786,  dur- 
 ing which  year  also  he  was  married  to  Ellen  Watson,  daughter  of 
 Hon.  William  Watson,  of  that  town.  A  delegate  to  the  convention 
 held  for  the  adoption  of  the  Federal  Constitution,  he  was  both  its 
 youngest  member  and  oldest  survivor.  At  various  times  he  represented 
 his  fellow-citizens  in  the  two  branches  of  the  Massachusetts  Legisla- 
 ture. He  was  appointed  Comptroller  of  the  United  States  Treasury  by 
 Washington,  and  afterward  United  States  Attorney,  removing  his  resi- 
 dence to  Boston,  where  he  lived  until  his  death,  Jan.  14,  1847.  By  Presi- 
 dent John  Adams  he  was  honored,  in  1801,  with  the  office  of  Judge 
 of  the  District  Court  of  Massachusetts,  and  remained  on  the  bench 
 for  forty  years.  He  was  one  of  the  Fellows  of  Harvard  College  from 
 1803  to  1810,  its  Treasurer  from  1810  to  1827,  and  a  member  of  its 
 Board  of  Overseers  from  1827  to  1837  ;  received  the  degree  of  LL.D. 
 from  Dartmouth  College  in  1802,  and  from  his  Alma  Mater  in  1842  ; 
 was  for  a  time  President  of  the  Massachusetts  Historical  Society,  and 
 was  a  member  also  of  the  American  Academy  of  Arts  and  Sciences  and 
 of  the  American  Philosophical  Society  of  Philadelphia.  He  published 
 an  edition  of  Morton's  "New  England  Memorial,"  which  he  enriched 
 with  copious  and  valuable  notes  ;  and  he  was  the  author  of  numerous 
 other  works  which  added  to  his  wide  and  justly  deserved  fame.  At  the 
 time  he  resigned  his  judicial  office,  Hon.  Franklin  Dexter,  in  presenting 
 the  resolutions  of  the  Boston  Bar,  spoke  of  his  labors  on  the  bench  as 
 exhibiting  "varied  and  accurate  learning,  sound  and  discriminating  judg- 
 ment, unwearied  patience,  gentleness  of  manners,  and  perfect  purity." 
 Hon.  George  S.  Hillard  said  of  him,  in  his  speech  at  the  dinner  of  the 
 Plymouth  celebration  of  1870  :  "  His  was  the  pure  and  lofty  spirit  of  the 
 Pilgrims,  softened  by  the  influences  of  a  milder  age  and  of  a  creed  less 
 stern.  In  him  was  the  'prisca  fides,'  the  ancient  faith  of  Marcel- 
 lus,  and  the  'mitis  sapientia,'  the  gentle  wisdom  of  Laelius.  He  was 
 wise  and  good,  tender  and  true  ;  the  calm  of  age  was  in  his  youth,  and 
 the  freshness  and  hopefulness  of  youth  was  in  his  age." 
 
 Of  his  various  poetical  productions  we  present  two  pieces.  The  first 
 of  these  was  written  for  the  Pilgrim  Celebration  at  Plymouth,  in  1792. 
 A  part  of  it,  at  least,  has  appeared  in  some  of  our  hymn-books,  and  has 
 been  sung  on  numerous  public  commemorative  occasions.  We  copy  it 
 entire,  as  it  was  revised  and  corrected  by  its  author  fifty  years  after  it 
 was  originally  composed.  In  this  form  it  was  used  at  the  celebration  of 
 the  Two  Hundred  and  Fiftieth  Anniversary  of  the  Landing  of  the  Pil- 
 grims at  Plymouth,  Dec.  21,  1870,  and  is  to  be  found  in  the  volume 
 containing  the  published  proceedings  of  that  interesting  festive  day. 
 
THE  DA  VISES. 
 
 THE    PILGRIM    FATHERS. 
 
 OONS  of  renowned  sires, 
 
 *"*       Join  in  harmonious  choirs, 
 
 Swell  your  loud  songs  ; 
 Daughters  of  peerless  dames, 
 Come  with  your  mild  acclaims, 
 Let  their  revered  names 
 
 Dwell  on  your  tongues. 
 
 tr 
 
 From  frowning  Albion's  seat 
 See  the  famed  band  retreat, 
 
 On  ocean  tost ; 
 Blue  tumbling  billows  roar, 
 By  keel  scarce  ploughed  before, 
 And  bear  them  to  this  shore 
 
 Fettered  with  frost.    ,. 
 
 By  yon  wave-beaten  rock 
 See  the  illustrious  flock 
 
 Collected  stand ; 
 To  seek  some  sheltering  grove 
 Their  faithful  partners  move, 
 Dear  pledges  of  their  love 
 
 In  either  hand. 
 
 Not  winter's  sullen  face, 
 Not  the  fierce  tawny  race 
 
 In  arms  arrayed, 
 Not  hunger,  shook  their  faith ; 
 Not  sickness'  baleful  breath, 
 Nor  Carver's  early  death, 
 
 Their  souls  dismayed. 
 
 Watered  by  heavenly  dew, 
 The  Germ  of  Empire  grew, 
 Freedom  its  root  ; 
 
SONGS   OF   THE  LIBERAL   FAITH. 
 
 From  the  cold  northern  pine, 
 Far  toward  the  burning  line, 
 Spreads  the  luxuriant  vine, 
 Bending  with  fruit. 
 
 Columbia,  child  of  heaven  ! 
 The  best  of  blessings  given 
 
 Be  thine  to  greet ; 
 Hailing  this  votive  day, 
 Looking  with  fond  survey 
 Upon  the  weary  way 
 
 Of  Pilgrim  feet. 
 
 Here  trace  the  moss-grown  stones, 
 Where  rest  their  mouldering  bones, 
 
 Again  to  rise  ; 
 And  let  thy  sons  be  led 
 To  emulate  the  dead, 
 While  o'e?  their  tombs  they  tread 
 
 With  moistened  eyes. 
 
 FOREFATHERS'  DAY. 
 
 Written  for  the  Pilgrim  Celebration  at  Plymouth,  in  1799. 
 
 XT  AIL,  Pilgrim  Fathers  of  our  race  ! 
 
 With  grateful  hearts  your  toils  we  trace ; 
 Again  this  Votive  Day  returns, 
 And  finds  us  bending  o'er  your  urns. 
 
 Jehovah's  arm  prepared  the  road  ; 
 The  Heathen  vanished  at  his  nod  ; 
 He  gave  his  vine  a  lasting  root  ; 
 He  loads  its  goodly  boughs  with  fruit. 
 
 The  hills  are  covered  with  its  shade  ; 
 Its  thousand  shoots  like  cedars  spread ; 
 Its  branches  to  the  sea  expand, 
 And  reach  to  broad  Superior's  strand. 
 
THE  DA  VISES. 
 
 Of  peace  and  truth  the  gladsome  ray 
 
 Smiles  in  our  skies  and  cheers  the  day  ; 
 And  a  new  Empire's  splendent  wheels 
 Roll  o'er  the  top  of  Western  hills. 
 
 Hail,  Pilgrim  leathers  of  our  race  ! 
 With  grateful  hearts  your  toils  we  trace  ; 
 Oft  as  this  Votive  Day  returns, 
 We'll  pay  due  honors  to  your  urns. 
 
 SAMUEL  DAVIS,  brother  of  Hon.  John  Davis,  was  born  in  Plymouth, 
 March  5,  1765.  He  devoted  most  of  his  life  to  antiquarian  studies,  and 
 probably  possessed  more  abundant  and  accurate  knowledge  of  New 
 England  history  than  any  man  of  his  time.  The  collections  of  the  Massa- 
 chusetts Historical  Society  owe  many  of  their  pages  to  his  diligent  re- 
 searches, and  the  student  and  writer  of  history  always  found  him  unerr- 
 ing authority.  He  died  in  Plymouth,  July  10,  1829.  His  gravestone  on 
 Burying  Hill  bears  the  following  inscription,  written  by  his  brother 
 John  :  — 
 
 "  From  life  on  earth  our  pensive  friend  retires, 
 
 His  dust  commingling  with  the  Pilgrim  sires ; 
 
 In  thoughtful  walks  their  every  path  he  traced  ; 
 
 Their  toils,  their  tombs,  his  faithful  page  embraced  ; 
 
 Peaceful  and  fair  and  innocent  as  they, 
 
 With  them  to  rise  to  everlasting  day." 
 
 This  member,  also,  of  the  Davis  family  in  Plymouth,  contributed  a 
 Pilgrim  Ode,  which  was  sung  at  the  celebration  in  1800.  The  following 
 are  some  of  its  stanzas  :  — 
 
 PILGRIM    ODE. 
 
 T    ET  children  learn  the  mighty  deeds 
 
 Their  sires  achieved  of  old  ; 
 And  still,  as  time  to  time  succeeds, 
 To  them  the  tale  unfold. 
 
 Their  pious  toils,  their  just  rewards, 
 
 Returning  tributes  claim, 
 While  faithful  history  records 
 
 Each  venerable  name. 
 
SONGS   OF   THE  LIBERAL   FAITH. 
 
 No  longer  now  the  roaming  hordes 
 
 Unhallowed  vigils  keep  ; 
 No  more  affrighted  mothers  guard 
 
 Their  cradled  infants'  sleep. 
 
 But  social  arts  and  peaceful  homes 
 
 This  favored  land  endear, 
 Where  fields,  and  masts,  and  rising  domes 
 
 With  scattered  grace  appear. 
 
 Let  musing  strangers  view  the  ground, 
 
 Here  seek  tradition's  lore, 
 Where  Pilgrims  walked  their  holy  round 
 
 With  God  in  days  of  yore. 
 
 Hon.  William  T.  Davis,  born  in  Plymouth,  March  3,  1822,  is  a 
 grandson  of  William  Davis,  who  was  brother  of  John  and  Samuel, 
 above  mentioned.  He  entered  Harvard  College  in  1838,  graduated  in 
 1842,  and  afterwards  studied  law.  He  still  resides  in  his  native  town ; 
 has  been  a  member  of  the  Massachusetts  Senate,  1858  and  1859,  and 
 also  of  the  Massachusetts  Historical  Society  ;  President  of  the  Plymouth 
 Society ;  President  of  the  Plymouth  Bay  Unitarian  Conference,  and  Vice- 
 President  of  the  American  Unitarian  Association ;  while  he  has  also 
 received  many  other  proofs  of  the  confidence  and  respect  of  his  fellow- 
 citizens.  He  wrote  the  following  hymn  for  the  Two  Hundred  and  Fiftieth 
 Anniversary  of  the  Landing  of  the  Pilgrims  :  — 
 
 OUR   FATHERS'   GOD. 
 
 nPO  Thee,  O  God  !  whose  guiding  hand 
 
 Our  Fathers  led  across  the  sea, 
 And  brought  them  to  this  barren  shore, 
 Where  they  might  freely  worship  Thee  ; 
 
 To  Thee,  O  God  !  whose  arm  sustained 
 Their  footsteps  in  this  desert  land, 
 Where  sickness  lurked  and  death  assailed, 
 And  foes  beset  on  every  hand,  — 
 
JOHN  QUINCY  ADAMS  9 
 
 To  Thee,  O  God  !  we  lift  our  eyes, 
 rhee  our  grateful  voices  raise, 
 And,  kneeling  at  Thy  gracious  throne, 
 Devoutly  join  in  hymns  of  praise. 
 
 ( >.ir  Fathers'  God  !  incline  Thine  ear, 
 And  listen  to  our  heartfelt  prayer; 
 Surround  us  with  Thy  heavenly  grace, 
 And  guard  us  with  Thy  constant  care. 
 
 Our  Fathers'  God  !  in  Thee  we'll  trust, 
 Sheltered  by  Thee  from  every  harm  : 
 We'll  follow  where  Thy  hand  shall  guide, 
 And  lean  on  Thv  sustaining  arm. 
 
 3^C 
 
 JOHN    QUINCY   ADAMS. 
 
 (1767-1848.) 
 
 JOHN  QUINCY  Adams  was  born,  July  11,  1767,  in  that  part  of  Braintree, 
 which  was  afterward  incorporated  as  a  distinct  township  under 
 the  name  of  Quincy.  He  was  a  descendant  of  the  fifth  generation  from 
 Henry  Adams,  who  came  to  America  early  in  the  seventeenth  century, 
 and  settled  in  Braintree  ;  and  he  was  the  son  of  John  Adams,  the  second 
 President  of  the  United  States.  His  long  and  illustrious  career  is  too 
 familiar  to  the  reader  to  justify  more  than  the  briefest  mention  of  its 
 principal  stages  or  events.  From  his  earliest  life  he  was  greatly  blessed  by 
 the  influence  upon  him  of  his  pious  and  gifted  mother,  Abigail  (Smith) 
 Adams.  In  his  youth  he  repeatedly  accompanied  his  father  to  Europe, 
 and  was  placed  at  various  schools  abroad ;  was  afterward  private 
 secretary  of  Hon.  Francis  Dana,  minister  to  Russia  ;  graduated  at 
 Harvard  College  in  1787  ;  studied  law  with  Theophilus  Parsons,  of 
 Newburyport,  and  entered  upon  the  practice  of  his  profession  in  Bos- 
 ton ;  was  sent  as  minister  to  the  Netherlands  and  also  to  Prussia  ; 
 served  as  member  of  the  Massachusetts  Senate,  and  of  the  Senate  of  the 
 United  States  ;  was  Boylston  Professor  of  Rhetoric  and  Oratory  at  Cam- 
 bridge ;  himself,  like  Mr.  Dana,  represented  his  country  at  St.  IVtcr^- 
 burg,  and,  having  been  the  head  of  the  Commi>>sioners  who  negotiated 
 the  Treaty  of  Ghent,  was  honored,  like  his  father,  with  the  mission  at 
 the  Court  of  St.  James  ;  was  appointed  Secretary  of  State  under  Presi- 
 
10  SONGS  OF   THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 dent  Monroe,  and  was  at  length  elected  Chief  Magistrate  of  the  Nation. 
 Yet,  after  his  Presidential  term,  he  was  sent  by  his  fellow-citizens,  for 
 seventeen  consecutive  years,  to  the  House  of  Representatives  at  Wash- 
 ington, where,  after  many  a  brave  battle  for  the  right  of  petition,  and 
 a  chivalrous  and  unfaltering  devotion  to  the  cause  of  liberty  and  the  weal 
 of  the  Republic,  he  fell  suddenly  at  his  post,  stricken  with  paralysis,  on 
 Monday,  Feb.  21,  1848.  He  died  on  the  following  Wednesday,  and  his 
 remains  were  conveyed  to  Quincy  for  burial,  attended  by  members  of 
 Congress  from  every  State  in  the  Union.  The  funeral  services  were 
 held  in  the  Unitarian  Church,  where,  at  home,  he  had  regularly  and  de- 
 voutly worshipped ;  and  a  most  appropriate  and  impressive  discourse 
 was  delivered  on  the  occasion  by  his  pastor,  Rev.  W.  P.  Lunt,  D.D., 
 while  at  the  same  time  other  eloquent  voices  paid  fitting  tributes  to  his 
 memory.  The  general  verdict  of  his  countrymen,  in  relation  to  his 
 character  and  life,  is  well  given  in  a  resolution  which  was  passed,  just  after 
 his  death,  by  the  people  of  his  native  town,  and  which  pronounced  him 
 "  one  of  the  ablest,  wisest,  and  most  virtuous  statesmen  of  modern  times  ; 
 a  patriot,  who  has  stood  by  his  country  in  peace  and  in  war,  and  who  has 
 guarded  her  interests  at  home  and  abroad  ;  a  scholar  of  the  most  varied 
 attainments  ;  an  orator  of  surpassing  eloquence  ;  a  friend  and  advocate 
 of  truth,  freedom,  and  justice  ;  a  man  of  unbending  integrity  in  public 
 and  private  life  ;  and,  above  all,  a  Christian  who,  in  the  greatest  press  of 
 official  cares,  never  forgot  or  omitted  his  duties  to  God." 
 
 The  writings  of  Mr.  Adams  consist  of  a  great  mass  of  letters,  speeches, 
 lectures,  eulogies,  and  important  public  papers,  largely  now  in  press, 
 and  edited  by  his  son  Hon.  Charles  Francis  Adams,  who  includes  in  his 
 work  an  extensive  diary  Life  of  his  father.  In  a  life  crowded  to  its  close 
 with  such  varied  and  arduous  public  service,  Mr.  Adams  found  no  little 
 time  to  cultivate  his  taste  and  improve  his  talent  for  poetic  composition. 
 His  longest  poem  was  "  Dermot  MacMorrogh,  or  the  Conquest  of  Ire- 
 land," an  Historical  Tale  of  the  12th  Century,  in  four  Cantos,  published 
 in  1832.  From  an  Appendix  in  Rev.  Dr.  Lunt's  pamphlet  containing  his 
 funeral  discourse,  we  learn  that,  while  he  was  preparing  in  1841  a  new 
 Hymn-book  for  the  use  of  his  own  society,  known  as  "The  Christian 
 Psalter,"  Mrs.  Adams  placed  in  his  hands  an  entire  metrical  version 
 which  her  husband  had  made  of  the  Psalms,  together  with  a  few  other 
 pieces  of  poetry  which  he  had  written.  From  these  Dr.  Lunt  selected 
 twenty-two  hymns,  and  gave  them  a  place  in  his  Collection.  A  small 
 volume  of  Mr.  Adams's  "  Poems  "  was  published  in  Auburn  and  Buffalo, 
 N.  Y.,  in  1854,  comprising,  beside  pieces  of  a  more  secular  character, 
 most,  if  not  all,  of  the  hymns  which  have  found  their  way  into  the  ser- 
 vice of  Sacred  Song.  Of  the  latter  we  present  the  following  specimens, 
 one  or  two  of  which  have  been  widely  adopted  and  much  admired :  — 
 
JOHN  QUINCY  ADAMS.  II 
 
 PSALM   XIX. 
 
 'T^URN  to  the  stars  of  heaven  thine  eyes, 
 
 And  God  shall  meet  thee  there ; 
 Exalt  thy  vision  to  the  skies, 
 
 His  glory  they  declare  ; 
 Day  speaks  to  day,  night  teaches  night, 
 
 The  wonders  of  their  frame, 
 And  all  in  harmony  unite 
 
 Their  Milker  to  proclaim. 
 
 Earth  has  no  language,  man  no  speech, 
 
 But  gives  their  voice  a  tongue  ; 
 Their  words  the  world's  foundations  reach, 
 
 Their  hymn  in  heaven  is  sung : 
 Pavilioned  there  in  glory  bright, 
 
 As  from  a  blooming  bride, 
 The  sun  comes  forth  in  floods  of  light, 
 
 With  all  a  bridegroom's  pride. 
 
 Glad,  like  a  giant  for  the  race, 
 
 His  orient  flame  ascends, 
 Soars  through  the  boundless  realms  of  space, 
 
 And  in  the  West  descends  ; 
 His  heat  the  vital  lamp  bestows, 
 
 The  firmament  pervades, 
 In  ocean's  darkest  caverns  glows, 
 
 And  earth's  profoundest  shades. 
 
 PSALM   CXXXIX. 
 
 f~\  LORD,  thy  all-discerning  eyes 
 
 My  inmost  purpose  see  ; 
 My  deeds,  my  words,  my  thoughts,  arise 
 Alike  disclosed  to  thee  ! 
 
12  SOJVGS   OF   THE  LIBERAL   FAITH. 
 
 My  sitting  down,  my  rising  up, 
 Broad  noon  and  deepest  night, 
 
 My  path,  my  pillow,  and  my  cup, 
 Are  open  to  thy  sight. 
 
 Before,  behind,  I  meet  thine  eye, 
 
 And  feel  thy  heavy  hand  ; 
 Such  knowledge  is  for  me  too  high 
 
 To  reach  or  understand  ; 
 What  of  thy  wonders  can  I  know  ? 
 
 What  of  thy  purpose  see  ? 
 Where  from  thy  Spirit  shall  I  go  ? 
 
 Where  from  thy  presence  flee  ? 
 
 If  I  ascend  to  heaven  on  high, 
 
 Or  make  my  bed  in  hell ; 
 Or  take  the  morning's  wings,  and  fly 
 
 O'er  ocean's  bounds  to  dwell ; 
 Or  seek  from  thee  a  hiding-place 
 
 Amid  the  gloom  of  night,  — 
 Alike  to  thee  are  time  and  space, 
 
 The  darkness  and  the  light. 
 
 THE    DEATH    OF    CHILDREN. 
 
 These  verses  originally  appeared  in  the  "Monthly  Anthology  and  Boston  Review," 
 January,  1807,  and  are  a  part  of  a  piece  which  there  consists  of  twenty  stanzas,  and  is 
 entitled  "  Lines  addressed  to  a  Mother  on  the  death  of  two  infants,  19  Sept.  1803,  and 
 19  Dec.  i8o5." 
 
 CURE,  to  the  mansions  of  the  blest 
 When  infant  innocence  ascends, 
 Some  angel  brighter  than  the  rest 
 The  spotless  spirit's  flight  attends. 
 
 On  wings  of  ecstasy  they  rise, 
 
 Beyond  where  worlds  material  roll, 
 
 Till  some  fair  sister  of  the  skies 
 Receives  the  unpolluted  soul. 
 
7/.V   QC/IXCY  .IP. IMS. 
 
 There,  at  th'  Almighty  Father's  hand, 
 Nearest  the  throne  of  living  light, 
 
 The  choirs  of  infant  seraphs  stand, 
 
 And  dazzling  shine,  where  all  are  bright. 
 
 That  inextinguishable  beam, 
 
 With  dust  united  at  our  birth, 
 Sheds  a  more  dim,  discolored  gleam, 
 
 The  more  it  lingers  upon  earth. 
 
 Closed  in  this  dark  abode  of  clay, 
 The  stream  of  glory  faintly  burns, 
 
 Nor  unobscured  the  lucid  ray 
 To  its  own  native  fount  returns. 
 
 But  when  the  Lord  of  mortal  breath 
 
 Decrees  his  bounty  to  resume, 
 And  points  the  silent  shaft  of  death, 
 
 Which  speeds  an  infant  to  the  tomb,  — 
 
 No  passion  fierce,  no  low  desire, 
 
 Has  quenched  the  radiance  of  the  flame  ; 
 Back  to  its  God  the  living  fire 
 
 Returns,  unsullied,  as  it  came. 
 
 THE    HOUR-GLASS. 
 
 Written    for  the  Two  Hundredth   Anniversary  of  the  First  Congregational   Church, 
 Quincy,  Sept.  29,  1839. 
 
 A  LAS  !  how  swift  the  moments  fly! 
 
 How  flash  the  years  along  ! 
 Scarce  here,  yet  gone  already  by, 
 
 The  burden  of  a  song. 
 See  childhood,  youth,  and  manhood  p 
 
 And  age,  with  furrowed  br< 
 Time  was,  Time  shall  be,  but  alas  ! 
 Where,  where  in  Time  is  now  / 
 
H      SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 Time  is  the  measure  but  of  change  ; 
 
 No  present  hour  is  found  ; 
 The  past,  the  future,  fill  the  range 
 
 Of  Time's  unceasing  round. 
 Where,  then,  is  now  ?     In  realms  above, 
 
 With  God's  atoning  Lamb, 
 In  regions  of  eternal  love, 
 
 Where  sits  enthroned  I  AM. 
 
 Then,  pilgrim,  let  thy  joys  and  tears 
 
 On  Time  no  longer  lean  ; 
 But  henceforth  all  thy  hopes  and  fears 
 
 From  earth's  affections  wean  : 
 To  God  let  votive  accents  rise ; 
 
 With  truth,  with  virtue  live ; 
 So  all  the  bliss  that  Time  denies 
 
 Eternity  shall  give. 
 
 SAMUEL   WILLARD. 
 
 (1776-1859.) 
 
 Rev.  Samuel  Willard,  D.  D.,  born  in  Petersham,  Mass.,  April  18, 
 1776,  was  a  son  of  William  and  Catherine  (Wilde)  Willard,  and  grand- 
 son of  Rev.  Samuel  Willard,  of  Biddeford,  Me.  Samuel  Willard,  the 
 grandfather  of  the  Biddeford  minister,  was  acting  President  of  Harvard 
 College,  1701-1707,  and  was  the  son  of  Major  Simon  Willard,  who  came 
 from  Kent,  England,  and  bought  land  of  the  Indians  in  Concord,  Mass., 
 before  the  year  1635.  Joseph  Willard,  another  President  of  Harvard, 
 1781-1804,  was  uncle  to  Samuel,  the  subject  of  this  sketch.  The  latter 
 spent  his  early  years  on  his  father's  farm.  He  began  to  prepare  himself 
 for  college  at  the  age  of  twenty-one,  and  was  fitted  mainly  under  the 
 instruction  of  Rev.  Nathaniel  Thayer,  D.D.,  of  Lancaster,  Mass.  Hav- 
 ing graduated  at  Harvard  in  1803,  he  was  subsequently  for  more  than  a 
 year  Dr.  Abbot's  assistant  in  the  Exeter  Academy,  and  was  afterwards 
 for  some  months  tutor  at  Bowdoin  College,  prosecuting  at  both  of  these 
 last-named  institutions  his  study  of  the  classics,  and  devoting  himself 
 also  to  the  study  of  Theology,  under  the  direction  of  Drs.  Appleton,  Buck- 
 minster,  and  McKean.  In  September,  1805,  he  removed  to  Cambridge, 
 where  he  continued  his  preparations  for  the  ministry,  and  soon  obtained 
 a  license  to  preach.     Economical  considerations  induced  him  to  reside  for 
 
SAMUEL    WILLARD.  15 
 
 a  time  at  Andover,  and  it  was  while  he  was  there  that  he  was  invited 
 to  preach  at  Deerfield,  Mass.  He  gave  his  first  sermon  in  that  place, 
 Much  15,  1S07,  and  received  the  next  June  a  call  to  settle.     August  12th 
 
 the  day  fixed  upon  for  the  ordination.  The  council,  called  in 
 accordance  with  the  custom  of  the  churches,  sat  for  two  days,  and  after 
 a  rigid  examination  of  the  candidate  refused  to  ordain  him,  regarding 
 his  views  too  liberal  for  the  orthodox  standard.  Here  was  one  of  the 
 first  indications  of  the  split  that  was  destined  ere  long  to  divide  the 
 Congregational  body  of  New  England.  Another  council  was  called  with 
 more  success,  and  he  was  duly  ordained,  September  23d,  of  the  same 
 year.  From  that  time  Mr.  Willard  was  a  recognized  pioneer  of  the 
 Liberal  movement  in  Western  Massachusetts,  bravely  contending  by 
 voice  and  pen  for  a  larger  freedom,  and  willingly  suffering  not  a  little 
 odium  and  persecution  for  the  sake  of  what  he  believed  to  be  the  truth. 
 On  the  30th  of  May,  1S0S,  he  was  married  to  Susan,  only  daughter  of 
 Dr.  Joshua  Barker,  of  Hingham,  by  whom  he  had  three  children,  Susan, 
 Mary,  and  Samuel,  the  last  a  graduate  of  Harvard,  1835.  About  the 
 close  of  the  year  1S1S  his  eyes  suddenly  failed  him  in  consequence  of  too 
 much  study  by  a  dim  light.  For  thirteen  years  after  this  sad  occurrence 
 he  was  able  to  see  large  objects  only  very  indistinctly,  and  for  the  re- 
 maining twenty-seven  years  of  his  life  he  was  totally  blind.  The  amount 
 and  variety  of  intellectual  and  other  labor  which,  with  the  faithful  aid 
 of  his  family,  he  accomplished  during  these  forty  years  of  his  calamity, 
 seem  almost  incredible.  He  continued  his  usual  pastoral  duties  until 
 September,  1S29,  when  he  resigned  his  charge  ;  then  removed  to  Hingham, 
 where  for  some  years  he  assisted  his  son-in-law  in  teaching  a  school  ; 
 and  finally,  after  a  brief  residence  in  Concord,  returned  to  Deerfield, 
 where  he  spent  the  rest  of  his  days,  preaching  occasionally  for  his  people 
 even  to  the  very  close  of  his  long  career. 
 
 of  his  many  writings  were  prepared  for  the  press  and  published 
 after  .his  loss  of  sight.  They  consist  of  numerous  articles  for  the 
 "Christian    Register,"     "Christian    Disciple,"    and    other    papers    and 
 
 /ines  ;  a  variety  of  controversial,  historical,  and  occasional  dis- 
 courses ;  a  series  of  School  Readers,  and  a  few  volumes  beside  relat- 
 ing to  the  subject  of  education ;  and  several  collections  of  music  or 
 hymns  for  worship.  Of  these  latter  were  his  "  Regular  Hymns,"  num- 
 bering 15S  songs,   composed  altogether  by  himself,  and  published   in 
 
 ;  a  small  tract,  also  written  by  himself,  and  printed  in  1S26,  entitled 
 "An  Index  to  the  Bible  with  Juvenile   Hymns;"  and   a  compilation, 
 
 red  Music  and  Poetry  Reconciled,"  which  was  issued  in  1830.  and 
 which  contained  518  hymns  from  various  authors,  nearly  180  of  them 
 being  his  own.  In  the  Library  of  Harvard  College  is  a  manuscript,  in 
 which  all  of  his  hymns  appear,  revised  and  corrected  by  their  author, 
 and  preceded  by  an  elaborate  treatise,  in  which  he  explains  and  advo- 
 cates the  theory  of  "a  coincidence  between  the  musical  and  the  poetical 
 emphasis."      The  subject  was  one  that  engaged  his  mind  and  occu. 
 
16  SONGS   OF   THE  LIBERAL   FAITH. 
 
 his  pen  for  many  years,  and  all  his  own  hymns  were  written  or  altered 
 with  a  view  of  practically  illustrating  this  thought.  Dr.  Willard  claimed 
 no  high  poetic  merit.  Yet  his  hymns,  however  modest  their  claim, 
 are  filled  with  the  sanctity  of  his  own  spirit ;  they  are  musical  in  their 
 rhythm  and  smooth  in  versification.  To  such  an  extent  had  he  exer- 
 cised and  strengthened  his  memory  after  he  was  deprived  of  his  sense 
 of  sight,  that  he  could  readily  repeat  any  one  of  his  hymns,  as  also  he 
 could  whole  books  of  the  Bible. 
 
 He  was  chosen  a  member  of  the  Academy  of  Arts  and  Sciences  in 
 1815,  and  in  1826  he  received  the  degree  of  D.D.  from  Harvard  College. 
 He  was  a  sturdy  and  unfaltering  advocate  of  Temperance  and  Freedom, 
 and  the  cause  of  Education  ever  found  in  him  a  wise  and  faithful 
 helper.  Even  in  his  blindness,  and  to  the  day  of  his  death,  he  was 
 deemed  a  public  benefactor.  He  bore  his  trials  with  remarkable  patience 
 and  cheerfulness,  and  his  piety  and  goodness  were  the  frequent  theme 
 of  all  who  saw  him,  or  learned  his  name.  He  died  at  Deerfield, 
 Mass.,  Oct.  8,  1859. 
 
 The  following  hymns,  except  the  last  two,  are  taken  from  Dr.  Wil- 
 lard's  Collection  published  in  1S30,  but  are  given  here  as  they  are  found 
 altered  and  revised  in  the  manuscript  referred  to.  The  first  originally 
 appeared  in  the  "  Christian  Disciple,"  1822,  with  others  from  the  same 
 source. 
 
 FOR   A    BIRTHDAY. 
 
 A  LL  hail  the  smiling  rays 
 Of  this  my  natal  clay  ! 
 Awake,  my  soul,  to  sound  his  praise, 
 Who  formed  this  living  clay. 
 
 How  many  tranquil  years 
 
 I've  passed  beneath  thy  care  ! 
 His  love  has  oft  assuaged  my  fears, 
 
 And  answered  every  prayer. 
 
 My  soul,  with  humble  joy 
 
 Review  the  season  past ; 
 Let  thankful  songs  my  lips  employ 
 
 While  life  and  being  last. 
 
 My  father's  God,  on  thee 
 
 My  only  hopes  depend  ; 
 From  every  sin  preserve  me  free, 
 
 From  every  ill  defend. 
 
SAMUEL    WILLARD. 
 
 With  thee  T  leave  my  cares, 
 To  thee  my  soul  intrust, 
 
 To  thee  devote  my  future  years, 
 Till  nature  sleep  in  dust. 
 
 Some  of  the  Collections  have  a  part,  or  the  whole,  of  another  hymn  by 
 Or.  Willard,  consisting  of  five  stanzas,  of  which  we  here  give  four  :  — 
 
 FOR   THE    PEACE   OF   THE    CHURCH. 
 
 O,  they  come  from  East  and  West ; 
 Come  to  enjoy  the  heavenly  rest : 
 North  and  South,  in  bliss  complete, 
 Round  the  eternal  altar  meet. 
 
 Saints  of  different  ages  come  ; 
 Find  in  heaven  one  common  home ; 
 Who  on  earth  have  walked  by  faith 
 Breathe  the  same  inspiring  breath. 
 
 Mighty  throng  !  how  great !  how  blest ! 
 Wondrous  peace,  and  joy,  and  rest ! 
 What  shall  fit  us,  Lord,  for  this  ? 
 Fit  our  souls  for  heavenly  bliss  ? 
 
 Peace  on  earth,  and  peace  alone  j 
 Peace,  that  makes  all  churches  one  ; 
 Peace,  the  fruit  of  Christian  love, 
 Fits  the  soul  for  bliss  above. 
 
 AGAINST    UNREASONABLE    FEARS. 
 
 ^~^EASE,  my  heart,  to  dread  the  morrow; 
 
 Hush  thine  anxious  cares  to  rest ; 
 Let.no  unavailing  sorrow 
 
 Ever  throb  within  my  breast. 
 
SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 All  that  loving  care  confessing, 
 Whence  thy  present  comforts  flow, 
 
 Humbly  wait  each  future  blessing ; 
 Leave  with  Him  each  future  woe. 
 
 Under  his  all-wise  direction, 
 
 Guard  against  impending  harm  ; 
 
 Still  with  his  divine  protection, 
 Cease  from  every  vain  alarm. 
 
 THE   PRAYER  OF   PENITENCE. 
 
 TN  deep  affliction,  Lord,  I  lie ; 
 
 To  thee  I  breathe  the  fervent  sigh, 
 My  sins  and  follies,  oh,  forgive, 
 Those  sins  which  now  my  spirit  grieve  ! 
 
 The  gloomy  night  involves  the  day  ; 
 My  wonted  joys  have  fled  away  ; 
 In  my  desponding  bosom,  Lord, 
 Thy  precious  promises  record. 
 
 I  see,  I  see  advancing  light : 
 It  spreads  and  rises  still  more  bright. 
 Henceforth  I  breathe  immortal  air,  — 
 Eternal'Love  has  heard  my  prayer. 
 
 The  following,  except  the  first  stanza,  was  copied  into  the  "  Christian 
 Examiner,"  1824,  from  Dr.  Willard's  "Regular  Hymns,"  and  is  one  of 
 his  best. 
 
 EVENING    HYMN. 
 
 t 
 TITELCOME,  ye  deep  and  silent  shades 
 That  veil  the  glowing  west ! 
 Hour  of  repose, 
 Softly  it  flows, 
 Diffusing  balmy  rest. 
 
 1 
 
SAMUEL    WILLARD. 
 
 Far  from  the  world  we  now  retire, 
 And  raise  our  eyes  to  God, 
 Who,  in  his  love, 
 Smiles  from  above, 
 And  cheers  our  dark  abode. 
 
 Author  of  all  the  countless  worlds 
 
 The  vault  of  heaven  displays, 
 
 Awed  by  thy  power, 
 
 Thee  we  adore, 
 
 And  chant  our  evening  lays. 
 
 Under  those  eyes  which  never  close 
 We  lay  us  down  to  sleep  ; 
 
 Hearer  of  prayer, 
 
 Make  us  thy  care, 
 And  safe  our  slumbers  keep. 
 
 Soon  as  the  sun,  with  new-born  rays, 
 Relumes  the  Eastern  skies, 
 
 Source  of  all  light, 
 
 Beam  on  our  sight, 
 And  bless  our  waking  eyes. 
 
 In  a  postscript  to  the  Preface  of  his  manuscript,  Dr.  Willard  tells 
 us  that  such  of  the  hymns  as  are  marked  with  an  asterisk  were  written, 
 and  all  the  changes  in  hymns  before  published  were  made,  in  the  eighty- 
 second  year  of  the  author's  age.  Of  the  fifty  or  more  hymns  that  ap- 
 pear with  a  star,  and  that  were  thus  composed  by  him  during  his  last 
 days,  are  the  two  which  we  here  give  :  — 
 
 THE    SURE    PROMISES    OF    GOD. 
 
 Daniel  ix.  2,  3  ;  x.  18,  19 ;  Acts  x.  4,  5. 
 
 /^RANT  me,  Lord,  some  precious  token, 
 
 Bright  and  sure,  of  sins  forgiven  ; 
 Oh,  may  those  blest  words  be  spoken, 
 "  Know  thy  prayers  are  heard  in  heaven  "  ! 
 
20  SONGS   OF   THE  LIBERAL   FAITH. 
 
 Oh,  those  words,  my  soul  sustaining, 
 Would  renew  my  languid  powers  ; 
 
 Give  my  daylight,  now  fast  waning, 
 Brighter  tints  than  morning  hours. 
 
 But  can  such  a  kind  indulgence 
 Be  on  one  like  me  bestowed  ? 
 
 Such  a  ray  from  thine  effulgence 
 Penetrate  my  soul's  abode  ? 
 
 Lord,  if  not,  with  much  endurance 
 
 I  will  wait  thy  holy  will ; 
 While  denied  this  bright  assurance, 
 
 Thank  my  God  for  twilight  still. 
 
 No,  my  Father,  thou  wilt  never 
 Turn  away  the  contrite  soul  ; 
 
 Promises,  the  same  for  ever, 
 
 All  my  doubts  and  fears  control. 
 
 Filial  love,  I  trust,  hath  bound  me,  — 
 Bound  my  heart  and  soul  to  thee  ; 
 
 Hence,  though  other  doubts  confound  me, 
 I'll  not  doubt  thy  love  to  me. 
 
 OLD    AGE. 
 
 The  last  of  the  four  hundred  and  sixty-seven  manuscript  hymns,  and  dated  Oct.  3,  185S. 
 
 ~V/rOUTH  and  its  vernal  bloom  have  fled, 
 
 Summer  and  autumn  gone  ; 
 And  yet,  O  God,  thy  love  may  cheer, 
 When  wintry  days  come  on. 
 
 Sun  of  the  soul,  beneath  thy  beams 
 
 All  things  may  bloom  within  ; 
 And  ripening  fruits  in  frosty  age 
 
 May  beautify  the  scene. 
 
JAMKS  FL1XT.  21 
 
 Thou,  who  hast  fed  me  all  my  life, 
 
 Help  me  to  trust  thee  still  ; 
 And  all  the  hopes,  by  thee  inspired, 
 
 Most  graciously  fulfil. 
 
 Then  will  I  travel  on  my  way, 
 
 Long  though  my  journey  be, 
 Nor  tire  beneath  the  weight  of  years 
 
 While  walking,  Lord,  with  thee. 
 
 JAMES    FLINT. 
 (1779-1855-) 
 
 REV.  James  Flint,  D.D.,  was  born  in  Reading,  Mass.,  Dec.  10,  1779. 
 His  early  years  were  passed  on  his  father's  farm,  where  he  divided  his 
 time  between  manual  labor  and  preparatory  studies.  He  began  with  the 
 classics  under  the  direction  of  the  parish  minister,  Rev.  Eliab  Stone. 
 He  graduated  at  Harvard  College  in  1802 ;  was  afterward  Preceptor  of 
 the  Academy  in  Andover,  and  subsequently  taught  school  in  Dedham, 
 where  he  studied  for  the  ministry  with  Rev.  Dr.  Bates  ;  was  ordained 
 pastor  of  the  church  in  East  Bridgewater,  Oct.  29,  1806;  and  for  many 
 years  gave  private  instruction  to  young  men  who  wished  to  prepare 
 themselves  for  the  regular  course  at  Cambridge.  In  April,  182 1,  he  re- 
 signed his  charge  at  East  Bridgewater,  and  accepted  a  call  to  the  East 
 Church,  Salem,  of  which  he  was  installed  as  the  pastor  on  the  19th  of  the 
 following  September.  After  a  ministry  here  of  thirty  years,  he  requested 
 his  parish,  in  view  of  his  advanced  age,  to  grant  him  the  aid  of  a  col- 
 league, and  himself  designated  for  the  office  Rev.  Dexter  Clapp,  who 
 accepted  the  trust,  and  entered  upon  his  labors  Dec.  17,  185 1.  Dr. 
 Flint  died,  March  4,  1855.  His  now  sainted  associate  and  successor,  in  a 
 sermon  which  he  preached  soon  afterward,  spoke  of  "  the  quick  and  active 
 intellect,"  of  "the  lively  and  exuberant  fancy,"  and  of  "the  deep  relig- 
 ious sentiment  "  of  his  departed  friend  and  counsellor,  and  quoted  from 
 a  letter  of  a  classmate  of  the  latter,  Ex-Governor  Levi  Lincoln,  who  wrote  : 
 "Dr.  Flint's  genial  character,  his  warm  affections,  his  pure  classic 
 taste,  the  high  tone  of  his  moral  sentiments,  and  his  literary  aspirations 
 and  attainments,  won  the  confidence  and  esteem  of  all,  and  made  him  the 
 object  of  special  regard  to  those  with  whom  he  was  most  intimate.  Well 
 and  faithfully  has  he  redeemed  all  the  pledges  of  his  early  manhood,  by 
 distinguished  usefulness  in  a  Christian  life,  by  the  cultivation  of  a  gifted 
 mind,  and  the  truest  devotion  of  his  rare  endowments  to  the  best  inter- 
 ests of  his  fellow-men." 
 
 Dr.  Flint  received  his  degree  of  D.D.,  in  1S25,  from  Harvard  Col- 
 lege.    Besides  contributing  to  some  of  the  principal  journals  of  the  day. 
 
22      SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 and  publishing  some  translations  from  Chateaubriand,  he  delivered 
 numerous  occasional  discourses,  and  wrote  many  hymns  and  odes  for 
 public  celebrations  or  anniversary  services.  In  1843  ne  published  "A 
 Collection  of  Hymns  for  the  Christian  Church  and  Home,"  for  the  use 
 of  his  own  society  in  Salem.  It  took  at  once  the  place  of  a  smaller  one 
 prepared  long  before  by  his  distinguished  predecessor,  Rev.  William 
 Bentley,  D.D.  The  new  Collection  retained  many  of  the  hymns  that 
 were  in  the  old,  and  included  many  others  drawn  from  various  sources. 
 Ten  or  twelve  of  these  were  written  by  Dr.  Flint  himself,  and  some  of 
 them  are  as  follows  :  — 
 
 GOD    WITH    THE    TRUE    WORSHIPPER    EVERY- 
 WHERE. 
 
 T  N  costly  fane,  the  pride  of  art, 
 
 Or  bowed  in  lowliest  cell, 
 Lord,  in  the  pure  and  grateful  heart 
 Thou  dost  delight  to  dwell. 
 
 Thy  servants  find  thee  everywhere, 
 
 Alone,  by  night  or  day ; 
 The  world  is  all  a  house  of  prayer 
 
 To  souls  that  love  to  pray. 
 
 Yet,  with  intenser,  brighter  flame, 
 
 Devotion's  fire  will  blaze, 
 When  many  meet  in  Jesus'  name 
 
 To  join  in  prayer  and  praise. 
 
 To  thee,  the  only  God,  most  wise, 
 
 In  heaven  and  earth  revered, 
 Our  mingled  vows  shall  duly  rise, 
 
 Our  Sabbath  hymns  be  heard. 
 
 Be  here  our  soul's  secure  retreat, 
 
 Our  ark  on  life's  chafed  sea ; 
 Unheard  the  storm  without  shall  beat, 
 
 While  we  commune  with  thee. 
 
 Here,  with  a  Father's  gracious  eye, 
 
 Behold  the  suppliant  throng, 
 Oft  as  they  breathe  the  imploring  sigh, 
 
 Or  wake  the  choral  song. 
 
 i 
 
JAMES  FLINT.  23 
 
 THE    BEATITUDES. 
 
 "LTAPPY  the  unrepining  poor: 
 
 For  them  the  heavenly  rest  is  sure, 
 Whose  patient  minds,  in  every  ill, 
 Submissive  meet  their  Maker's  will. 
 
 Happy  the  contrite,  who  lament 
 Their  wasted  hours,  in  sin  misspent : 
 Reclaimed  from  sin,  they  shall  obtain 
 Eternal  joys  for  transient  pain. 
 
 Happy  the  meek,  by  wisdom  taught 
 To  check  each  proud,  resentful  thought : 
 For  them  earth  spreads  the  feast  of  life, 
 Unmixed  with  bitterness  and  strife. 
 
 Happy  the  souls  that  grow  in  grace, 
 Hunger  and  thirst  for  righteousness  : 
 For  them  a  full  and  rich  supply 
 Shall  be  prepared  in  worlds  on  high. 
 
 Happy  the  men  who  mercy  show 
 To  all  that  need,  or  friend  or  foe : 
 To  them  like  mercy  shall  be  shown, 
 When  God's  just  sentence  all  shall  own. 
 
 Happy  the  pure  in  heart :  for  they, 
 Still  holding  on  in  virtue's  way, 
 When  faith  and  hope  are  changed  to  sight, 
 Shall  see  their  God  in  cloudless  light. 
 
 Happy  the  men  of  peaceful  life, 
 Who  win  to  peace  the  sons  of  strife : 
 They  shall  be  called  the  sons  of  God, 
 The  heirs  of  his  serene  abode. 
 
 And  happy  those  who  take  the  cross, 
 For  truth  encounter  pain  and  loss, 
 And  suffer  shame  for  Christ,  their  Lord : 
 For  great  in  heaven  is  thc-ir  reward. 
 
24  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 EVENING    HYMN. 
 
 "pATHER,  thy  mercies  never  fail ; 
 
 Again  the  evening  shades  prevail, 
 And  soothed  I  hear  the  still,  small  voice 
 That  bids  me  in  thy  care  rejoice. 
 
 Beneath  thy  sun's  all-cheering  ray 
 
 I've  plied  my  task  another  day ; 
 
 And  thrice  my  strength  refreshed  hath  been 
 
 With  food,  and  converse  sweet  between. 
 
 Thy  works,  all  beautiful  and  good, 
 I've  scanned  and  partly  understood  ; 
 Clothed  in  their  livery  of  light, 
 All  speak  thy  wisdom,  love,  and  might. 
 
 When  darkness  veils  the  earth  and  skies, 
 New  worlds  and  wonders  o'er  me  rise, 
 That  tell,  in  words  of  flame  from  far, 
 How  vast,  how  bright  thy  glories  are. 
 
 Kept  by  thine  all-sustaining  power, 
 I  welcome  now  the  solemn  hour 
 That  comes  my  weary  lids  to  close, 
 And  lay  me  down  to  sweet  repose. 
 
 Wrapt  in  the  soft  embrace  of  sleep, 
 Let  angel-guards  their  vigils  keep 
 About  my  bed,  and  be  my  rest 
 With  holy  dreams  and  visions  blest. 
 
 While  my  tired  frame  in  mimic  death 
 Lies  motionless,  save  pulse  and  breath, 
 Let  my  free  spirit  heavenward  rly, 
 And,  without  dying,  learn  to  die. 
 
JAMES  FLINT.  25 
 
 REMEMBRANCE    OF    OUR    FATHERS. 
 
 Sung  in  the   First  Congregational  Church  in  Quincy,  Mass.,  May  25,   1840,  on    the 
 completion  of  the  Second  Century  after  the  original  incorporation  of  the  town. 
 
 TN  pleasant  lands  have*  fallen  the  lines 
 
 That  bound  our  goodly  heritage  ; 
 And  safe  beneath  our  sheltering  vines, 
 Our  youth  is  blest,  and  blest  our  age. 
 
 What  thanks,  O  God,  to  thee  are  due, 
 That  thou  didst  plant  our  fathers  here, 
 
 And  watch  and  guard  them  as  they  grew, 
 A  vineyard  to  the  Planter  dear  ! 
 
 The  toils  they  bore  our  ease  have  wrought ; 
 
 They  sowed  in  tears,  —  in  joy  we  reap  ; 
 The  birthright  they  so  dearly  bought 
 
 We'll  guard  till  we  with  them  shall  sleep. 
 
 Thy  kindness  to  our  fathers  shown, 
 In  want  and  woe  through  all  the  past, 
 
 Their  grateful  sons,  O  God,  shall  own, 
 While  here  their  name  and  race  shall  last. 
 
 CELEBRATION    OF   AMERICAN    INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 "p  RE  EM  EX,  we  our  chartered  rights 
 
 Hold  from  men  who  lived  the  lights, 
 And  the  bulwark  on  her  heights, 
 Of  their  country,  stood. 
 
 Tyrants'  threats  and  bribes  they  spurned, 
 Back  the  oppressor's  hosts  they  turned, 
 Freedom  for  their  sons  they  earned 
 By  their  toils  and  blood. 
 
26  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 Be  their  names  immortalized, 
 Who  their  life-blood  sacrificed, 
 That  a  boon  so  dearly  prized 
 They  for  us  might  win. 
 
 Yet  in  vain  our  freedom,  Lord, 
 Bought  with  blood  in  battle  poured, 
 If,  unfranchised  by  thy  word, 
 We  are  slaves  to  sin. 
 
 Freedom  without  self-control 
 Is  but  leave  to  wreck  the  soul, 
 Passion-driven  on  pleasure's  shoal, 
 To  the  future  blind. 
 
 Freemen,  then,  by  right  of  birth, 
 Teach  us,  Lord,  to  prize  the  worth 
 Of  that  richest  gem  of  earth, 
 Freedom  of  the  mind. 
 
 ORDINATION    HYMN    FOR   A    NEW   SOCIETY. 
 
 Written  for  the  ordination  of  Mr.  Samuel  Barrett,  as  pastor  of  the  Twelfth  Congrega- 
 tional Church,  Boston,  Feb.  9,  1825. 
 
 A  LL-GLORIOUS  Lord  of  heaven  and  earth ! 
 
 When  angels  sang  a  Saviour's  birth, 
 "  Glory  to  God  !  "  the  song  began : 
 It  closed  with  "  Peace  and  Love  to  man." 
 
 Glory  to  thee  we  give  this  day, 
 
 That  earthly  heralds  still  convey, 
 
 What  angels  sang  from  their  bright  spheres, 
 
 Good  news  to  our  delighted  ears. 
 
 Eternal  life  they  still  proclaim, 
 The  gift  and  Giver  still  the  same  : 
 The  same  the  straight  and  narrow  way, 
 To  know  thy  will,  and  to  obey. 
 
JAMES  FLINT.  2J 
 
 Grateful,  this  lately  gathered  band 
 
 (  H  suppliants,  Lord,  before  thee  stand, 
 
 And  join  their  pastor's  heart-breathed  prayer, 
 
 That  they  may  grow  beneath  his  care. 
 
 Thy  dews  and  sunshine  swell  the  grain, 
 Till  ripened  sheaves  bend  o'er  the  plain  : 
 So  be  thy  Spirit  largely  given, 
 And  souls  shall  ripen  here  for  heaven. 
 
 All-glorious  Lord  of  heaven  and  earth  ! 
 When  angels  sang  a  Saviour's  birth, 
 "  Glory  to  God  !  "  the  song  began  : 
 It  closed  with  "  Peace  and  Love  to  man." 
 
 The  hymn,  written  by  Dr.  Flint,  and  inserted  in  his  Collection,  begin- 
 ning, 
 
 "  O'er  life's  pale  wreck  in  loveliness," 
 
 consists  of  the  last  five  stanzas  of  one  that  was  composed  by  him  for  the 
 consecration  of  Harmony  Grove  Cemetery,  at  Salem,  June  14,  1S40.  We 
 present  it  here  in  its  entire  form  :  — 
 
 HARMONY   GROVE    CEMETERY. 
 
 "pROM  Thee,  O  God,  our  spirits  come, 
 
 Enshrined  in  breathing  clay  ; 
 Mysterious  guests,  not  here  at  home, 
 Xor  destined  long  to  stay. 
 
 Nature,  from  her  maternal  breast, 
 
 Nurtures  the  living  frame, 
 Till  summoned  hence  the  stranger  guest 
 
 Returns  to  whence  it  came. 
 
 When  of  its  life-guest  dispossessed, 
 The  appointed  goal  attained, 
 
 Her  bosom  folds  in  dreamless  rest 
 The  form  her  fruits  sustained. 
 
28  SONGS  OF   THE  LIBERAL   FAITH. 
 
 Be  these  sequestered  haunts,  of  mound 
 
 And  slope,  of  dell  and  glade, 
 Approached  henceforth,  as  hallowed  ground, 
 
 Where  life's  pale  wrecks  are  laid. 
 
 Yet  o'er  these  wrecks,  in  loveliness, 
 
 These  scenes  shall  yearly  bloom  \ 
 Type  of  the  soul's  ethereal  dress, 
 
 Heaven- wrought  beyond  the  tomb. 
 
 Oh,  why  then  mourn,  that  earth  to  earth, 
 
 And  dust  to  dust  is  given  ? 
 'Tis  but  the  spirit's  second  birth, 
 
 Its  coronal  for  heaven. 
 
 Though  dear  the  dust,  that  once  was  warm 
 
 With  life  the  spirit  gave, 
 We  dote  not  on  the  perished  form, 
 
 That  moulders  in  the  grave. 
 
 We  yield  the  body  to  its  doom, 
 
 The  dust  in  dust  to  lie  ; 
 Yet  we  may  deem  beside  the  tomb 
 
 The  spirit  hovering  nigh. 
 
 And  oft  our  steps  shall  linger  near, 
 
 Till  death  the  veil  remove, 
 And  kindred  spirits,  sundered  here, 
 
 Be  joined  in  deathless  love. 
 
 JOHN    PIERPONT. 
 
 (i  785-1 866.) 
 
 Rev.  John  Pierpont  was  a  descendant  of  John  Pierpont,  of  Lon- 
 don, who,  having  come  to  this  country  to  see  his  two  sons  who  had  emi- 
 grated before  him,  died  in  Ipswich,  Mass.,  Dec.  7,  1682.  One  of  these 
 two  sons,  James  Pierpont,  who  lived  in  Roxbury,  Mass.,  and  then  in 
 New  Haven,  Conn.,  was  the  grandfather  of  James  Pierpont,  who  settled 
 
JOHN  PIERPOXT.  29 
 
 in  Litchfield,  Conn.,  and  there  married  Elizabeth  Collins,  by  whom  he 
 had  six  children.  The  second  of  the  six  was  the  subject  of  our  sketch. 
 He  was  born  at  Litchfield,  April  6,  17S5  ;  graduated  at  Yale  College,  in 
 1S04  ;  taught  for  a  time  in  the  Academy  with  Rev.  Dr.  Backus,  and 
 afterward  in  the  family  of  Col.  William  Allston,  of  Charleston,  S.C.  ; 
 returning  home,  studied  law  for  several  years,  and  then,  in  1S12,  went  to 
 Newburyport,  Mass.,  where  he  was  admitted  to  the  bar.  In  1814  he 
 gave  up  this  profession  from  conscientious  scruples,  and  devoted  him- 
 self to  literary  and  business  pursuits;  first  in  Boston,  and  later  in  Balti- 
 more, where  he  was  a  partner  in  the  dry  goods  trade  with  John  Neal,  of 
 Portland,  and  Joseph  L.  Lord,  whose  sister,  Mary  Sheldon  Lord,  he  had 
 married  in  Litchfield,  in  1S10.  We  next  find  him,  some  years  later,  a 
 student  of  theology  at  the  Cambridge  Divinity  School,  at  which  he  grad- 
 uated, in  1S18,  in  the  class  with  Jared  Sparks,  John  G.  Palfrey,  and 
 others,  who  afterward  attained  to  eminence.  In  18 19  he  succeeded 
 Rev.  Dr.  Holley,  as  pastor  of  the  Hollis  Street  Church,  Boston  ;  was 
 settled  over  the  Unitarian  Society,  at  Troy,  N.Y.,  in  1845,  and  over  the 
 parish  in  Medford,  Mass.,  in  1849,  remaining  in  charge  of  the  latter  until 
 1S59,  when  he  retired  from  the  active  ministry,  although  he  continued  to 
 supply  pulpits  from  time  to  time  as  occasion  offered.  His  wife  died  in 
 1855,  and  in  1858  he  was  again  married  to  Mrs.  Louisa  Campbell  Fowler, 
 of  Dutchess  County,  N.Y.  In  1861,  soon  after  the  outbreak  of  the  war, 
 he  went  into  Virginia,  as  chaplain  of  the  Massachusetts  Regiment,  enter- 
 ing upon  this  service  of  country  and  liberty,  though  at  the  age  of  more 
 than  threescore  years  and  ten,  with  wonderful  zeal  and  heroism.  The 
 toils  and  risks  required  of  him  were  too  great  for  his  increasing  infirmi- 
 ties, and  he  was  obliged  to  return  to  more  peaceful  pursuits.  In  1862, 
 his  friend,  Secretary  Chase,  devolved  upon  him  the  labor  of  indexing  the 
 decisions  of  the  Treasury  Department  at  Washington.  He  lived  to 
 complete  the  vast  work,  executing  the  task  with  marvellous  neatness 
 and  fidelity.  He  died  suddenly,  Aug.  27,  1866,  while  on  a  visit  among 
 his  friends  at  Medford. 
 
 Mr.  Pierpont  was  of  tall  and  handsome  figure,  was  an  admirable  reader 
 and  an  earnest,  interesting  speaker,  a  ready,  logical,  and  powerful  contro- 
 versialist, and  an  indomitable  champion  of  all  the  reforms  of  the  day. 
 His  bold  advocacy  of  the  Temperance  cause  led,  in  1838,  to  a  pro- 
 longed and  exciting  conflict  between  him  and  his  church  in  Hollis 
 Street,  a  committee  of  which  requested  him  to  resign.  This  he  declined 
 to  do,  and  the  matter  was  brought  before  an  ecclesiastical  tribunal, 
 whose  decision  in  1841  was  that  he  was  not  of  right  called  upon  to  leave 
 "his  pulpit,  and  whose  protracted  proceedings  were  afterward  published 
 in  a  volume. 
 
 Not  less  valiant  and  faithful  was  his  testimony  against  the  sin  and 
 evils  of  slavery.  In  the  pulpit  and  in  conversation,  in  papers  and 
 magazines,  in  prose  and  poetry,  he  witnessed  from  first  to  last  to  this 
 good  confession ;  and  his  burning,  uncompromising  words  did  much  to 
 
30      SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 swell  the  growing  public  sentiment  that  finally  set  free  the  oppressed. 
 Keenly  alive  to  every  movement  or  enterprise  that  promised  aid  to 
 human  welfare,  he  was  also  deeply  interested  in  prison  discipline,  popu- 
 lar education,  and  other  kindred  matters,  giving  to  each  and  all  his 
 hearty  sympathy  and  support. 
 
 His  literary  labors  and  productions  were  numerous,  and  of  superior 
 merit.  His  earliest  extended  poem,  "  The  Portrait,"  was  read  before  the 
 Washington  Benevolent  Society,  of  Newburyport,  Oct.  27,  18 12.  His 
 "Airs  of  Palestine,"  which  justly  earned  for  him  a  high  reputation  as  a 
 poet,  was  first  published  in  a  small  volume  at  Baltimore  in  1816  ;  and 
 two  other  editions  of  it  were  issued  in  Boston,  in  the  following  year. 
 During  his  ministry  in  Boston,  he  prepared  an  admirable  series  of  school- 
 books,  which  passed  through  many  editions,  and  were  very  widely  used: 
 "The  American  First  Class  Book,"  "The  National  Reader,"  "An  In- 
 troduction to  the  National  Reader,"  "The  Young  Reader,"  and  "The 
 Little  Learner."  In  1835-36  he  went  abroad,  and  travelled  in  England, 
 France,  Italy,  Asia  Minor,  and  Greece,  writing  letters  from  Rome  for  the 
 "  Evening  Gazette."  In  1839  he  edited  an  American  reprint,  with 
 some  changes,  of  Emily  Taylor's  volume  of  selected  poems,  entitled 
 "  Sabbath  Recreations,"  and  in  1840  published  a  Collection  of  his  own 
 poems,  which  included  his  "Airs  of  Palestine,"  and  other  pieces  of  con- 
 siderable length ;  a  great  number  of  hymns  or  odes  for  Christmas,  and 
 the  Lord's  Supper ;  for  Ordination,  Installation,  and  Dedicatory  Ser- 
 vices, and  Temperance  and  Anniversary  Celebrations  ;  and  a  variety  of 
 brief,  fugitive  productions  beside.  From  time  to  time  during  his  active 
 professional  life,  he  gave  to  the  press  some  of  his  more  notable  sermons, 
 which,  as  they  pertained  chiefly  to  the  more  exciting  subjects  of  the 
 day,  created  a  deep  and  wide  interest  in  the  community. 
 
 Mr.  Pierpont  was  one  of  the  best  hymn-writers  of  America.  He  was 
 a  genuine  poet,  as  well  as  a  powerful  preacher  and  stern  reformer.  His 
 imagination  took  a  bold,  strong  wing,  and  his  fine  lyric  verse  was  in- 
 spired with  the  ardor  and  nobleness  of  his  own  great  soul.  Fiery  as 
 some  of  his  pieces  are  in  their  rebuke  and  denunciation  of  injustice  and 
 cruelty,  yet  there  are  others  which  are  remarkable  for  their  tenderness 
 and  pathos,  and  betray  the  sweetness  and  love  that  lay  hidden  beneath 
 his  rugged  face,  and  imperial,  warlike  manner.  His  songs  as  well  as  his 
 sermons  throb  with  intense  devotion  to  truth  and  goodness,  to  country 
 and  humanity,  and  to  that  better  Church  of  God,  that  is  yet  to  be. 
 From  the  volume  of  his  poems,  published  in  ,1840,  we  take  the  following 
 pieces  :  — 
 
 MORNING   HYMN.     FOR   A   CHILD. 
 
 r\  GOD,  I  thank  thee  that  the  night 
 ^~"^     In  peace  and  rest  hath  passed  away ; 
 And  that  I  see,  in  this  fair  light, 
 
 My  Father's  smile,  that  makes  it  day. 
 
JOHN  PIERPOXT.  31 
 
 Be  thou  my  Guide,  and  let  me  live 
 
 As  under  thine  all-seeing  eye  ; 
 Supply  my  wants,  my  sins  forgive, 
 
 And  make  me  happy  when  I  die. 
 
 EVENING   HYMN.     FOR  A   CHILD. 
 
 A  NOTHER  day  its  course  hath  run, 
 ^*"     And  still,  O  God,  thy  child  is  blest  j 
 For  thou  hast  been  by  day  my  sun, 
 And  thou  wilt  be  by  night  my  rest. 
 
 Sweet  sleep  descends,  my  eyes  to  close ; 
 
 And  now,  when  all  the  world  is  still, 
 I  give  my  body  to  repose, 
 
 My  spirit  to  my  Father's  will. 
 
 WORKS    OF    MAN. 
 
 Written  for  the  Fifth  Triennial  Celebration  of  the  Massachusetts  Charitable  Association, 
 
 Oct.  4,  1 82 1. 
 
 CPIRIT  of  Wisdom  and  of  Power! 
 
 The  works  of  Egypt's  mightiest  hour,  — 
 
 The  pyramid  and  vaulted  tomb, 
 The  peerless  fane  of  David's  Son, 
 The  giant  towers  of  Babylon,  — 
 
 Old  works  of  grandeur  and  of  gloom  j 
 
 The  curtained  ark,  the  jewelled  vest 
 That  gleamed  of  old  on  Aaron's  breast, — 
 
 Works  for  their  glorious  beauty  famed  : 
 All  these,  by  thine  informing  mind, 
 In  strength  were  reared,  with  skill  designed, 
 
 And  lead  our  thoughts  to  thee  when  named. 
 
 Lone  columns  on  the  Ionian  shore, 
 And  sculptured  ruins  scattered  o'er 
 
32  SONGS   OF  THE  LIBERAL  FALTH. 
 
 Athenian  and  Corinthian  plains, 
 Of  thy  departed  spirit  speak, 
 That  shed  a  glory  round  the  Greek, 
 
 And  threw  its  last  light  on  his  chains. 
 
 The  conqueror's  arch,  the  temple's  dome, 
 Of  pagan  and  of  Christian  Rome, 
 
 Thy  kindling  spirit  taught  to  swell  ; 
 And  many  a  tall  monastic  pile, 
 Still  frowning  o'er  our  fathers'  Isle, 
 
 Of  thy  past  inspirations  tell. 
 
 The  arts  that  bid  our  navies  ride 
 And  thunder  o'er  the  trackless  tide, 
 
 The  arts  of  dove-winged  Peace  are  thine. 
 Spirit  of  Wisdom  and  of  Power  ! 
 Be  thou  our  undecaying  tower, 
 
 And  our  adoring  hearts  thy  shrine. 
 
 WORKS    OF    GOD. 
 
 Written  for  the  same  occasion  as  the  last. 
 
 "1VTOW  to  the  God  to  whom  all  might 
 And  glory  in  all  worlds  belong, 
 Who  fills,  unseen,  his  throne  of  light, 
 Come,  let  .us  sing  a  general  song. 
 
 His  Spirit  wrapped  the  mantling  air, 
 Of  old,  around  our  infant  earth, 
 
 And  on  her  bosom,  warm  and  fair, 
 Gave  her  young  lord  his  joyous  birth. 
 
 He  smiles  on  morning's  rosy  way ; 
 
 He  paints  the  gorgeous  clouds  of  even  ; 
 To  noon  he  gives  its  ripening  ray  ; 
 
 To  night,  the  view  of  glorious  heaven. 
 
 He  drives  along  those  sparkling  globes 
 
 In  circles  of  unerring  truth  ; 
 He  decks  them  all  in  radiant  robes, 
 
 And  crowns  them  with  eternal  youth. 
 
JOIIX  PIERPONT.  33 
 
 So  will  he  crown  the  upright  mind, 
 
 When  life  and  all  its  toils  arc  o'er; 
 Then  let  his  praise  on  every  wind 
 
 Rise  till  the  winds  shall  wake  no  more. 
 
 ORDINATION    HYMN. 
 
 Written  for  the  Ordination  of  Mr.  William  Ware,  as  Pastor  of  the  First  Congregational 
 Church  in  New  York,  Dec    iS,  1821. 
 
 r\  THOU,  who  art  above  all  height ! 
 
 Our  God,  our  Father,  and  our  Friend  ! 
 Beneath  thy  throne  of  love  and  light, 
 We,  thine  adoring  children,  bend. 
 
 We  kneel  in  praise,  that  here  is  set 
 
 A  vine  that  by  thy  culture  grew  ; 
 We  kneel  in  prayer,  that  thou  wouldst  wet 
 
 Its  opening  leaves  with  heavenly  dew. 
 
 Since  thy  young  servant  now  hath  given 
 Himself,  his  powers,  his  hopes,  his  youth, 
 
 To  the  great  cause  of  truth  and  heaven,  — 
 Be  thou  his  guide,  O  God  of  truth ! 
 
 Here  may  his  doctrines  drop  like  rain, 
 His  speech  like  Hermon's  dew  distil, 
 
 Till  green  fields  smile,  and  golden  grain, 
 Ripe  for  the  harvest,  waits  thy  will. 
 
 And  when  he  sinks  in  death, — by  care, 
 Or  pain,  or  toil,  or  years  oppressed,  — 
 
 O  God  !  remember  then  our  prayer, 
 And  take  his  spirit  to  thy  rest. 
 
 UNIVERSAL    WORSHIP. 
 
 Written  for  the  opening  of  the   Independent  Congregational   Church   in    Barton   Square. 
 Salem,  Mass.,  Dec.  7,  1824. 
 
 f~\  THOU,  to  whom,  in  ancient  time, 
 
 The  lyre  of  Hebrew  bards  was  strung, 
 Whom  kings  adored  in  song  sublime, 
 
 And  prophets  praised  with  glowing  tongue  ! 
 3 
 
34  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL   FAITH. 
 
 Not  now  on  Zion's  height  alone 
 
 Thy  favored  worshipper  may  dwell, 
 
 Nor  where,  at  sultry  noon,  thy  Son 
 Sat  weary  by  the  patriarch's  well. 
 
 From  every  place  below  the  skies, 
 The  grateful  song,  the  fervent  prayer, 
 
 The  incense  of  the  heart,  may  rise 
 To  heaven,  and  find  acceptance  there. 
 
 In  this,  thy  house,  whose  doors  we  now, 
 For  social  worship,  first  unfold, 
 
 To  thee  the  suppliant  throng  shall  bow, 
 While  circling  years  on  years  are  rolled. 
 
 To  thee  shall  age,  with  snowy  hair, 
 
 And  strength  and  beauty,  bend  the  knee  ; 
 
 And  childhood  lisp,  with  reverent  air, 
 Its  praises  and  its  prayers  to  thee. 
 
 O  thou,  to  whom,  in  ancient  time, 
 
 The  lyre  of  prophet  bards  was  strung  ! 
 
 To  thee  at  last,  in  every  clime, 
 
 Shall  temples  rise,  and  praise  be  sung. 
 
 THE    PILGRIM    FATHERS. 
 
 Written  for  the  Anniversary  of  the  Pilgrim  Society,  celebrated  at  Plymouth, 
 Dec.  22,  1824. 
 
 HP  HE  Pilgrim  Fathers,  —  where  are  they  ? 
 
 The  waves  that  brought  them  o'er 
 Still  roll  in  the  bay,  and  throw  their  spray 
 
 As  they  break  along  the  shore  ; 
 Still  roll  in  the  bay,  as  they  rolled  that  day 
 
 When  the  Mayflower  moored  below, 
 When  the  sea  around  was  black  with  storms, 
 And  white  the  shore  with  snow. 
 Chorus.    Still  roll  in  the  bay,  as  they  rolled  that  day,  &c. 
 
 i 
 
JOHN  PIERPONT.  35 
 
 The  mists  that  wrapped  the  Pilgrim's  sleep 
 
 Still  brood  upon  the  tide  ; 
 And  his  rocks  yet  keep  their  watch  by  the  deep 
 
 To  stay  its  waves  of  pride. 
 But  the  snow-white  sail  that  he  gave  to  the  gale, 
 
 When  the  heavens  looked  dark,  is  gone,  — 
 As  an  angel's  wing,  through  an  opening  cloud, 
 
 Is  seen,  and  then  withdrawn. 
 
 Chorus.    It  is   gone   from   the   bay,   where   it   spread   that 
 day,  &c. 
 
 The  Pilgrim  exile,  —  sainted  name  ! 
 
 The  hill  whose  icy  brow 
 Rejoiced,  when  he  came,  in  the  morning's  flame, 
 
 In  the  morning's  flame  burns  now. 
 And  the  moon's  cold  light,  as  it  lay  that  night 
 
 On  the  hill-side  and  the  sea, 
 Still  lies  where  he  laid  his  houseless  head,  — 
 
 But  the  Pilgrim  !  where  is  he  ? 
 
 Chorus.    He  is  not  in  the  bay,  as  he  was  that  day,  &c. 
 
 The  Pilgrim  Fathers  are  at  rest : 
 
 When  summer's  throned  on  high, 
 And  the  world's  warm  breast  is  in  verdure  drest, 
 
 Go  stand  on  the  hill  where  they  lie. 
 The  earliest  ray  of  the  golden  day 
 
 On  that  hallowed  spot  is  cast ; 
 And  the  evening  sun,  as  he  leaves  the  world, 
 
 Looks  kindly  on  that  spot  last. 
 
 Chorus.    Not  such  was  the  ray  that  he  shed  that  day,  &c 
 
 The  Pilgrim  spirit  has  not  fled  : 
 
 It  walks  in  noon's  broad  light ; 
 And  it  watches  the  bed  of  the  glorious  dead, 
 
 With  the  holy  stars  by  night. 
 
36      SONGS  OF   THE  LIBERAL   FAITH, 
 
 It  watches  the  bed  of  the  brave  who  have  bled, 
 And  shall  guard  this  ice-bound  shore, 
 
 Till  the  waves  of  the  bay,  where  the  Mayflower  lay, 
 Shall  foam  and  freeze  no  more. 
 
 Chorus.  It  watches  the  bed  of  the  brave  who  have  bled,  &c. 
 THE   STONE    CHURCH   AT    QUINCY. 
 
 Written  for  the  Dedication  of  the  New  Stone  Congregational  Church,  in  Quincy,  Nov. 
 12,  1828.  The  allusion  in  the  third  stanza  is  to  President  John  Adams,  who  had  given 
 to  the  parish  the  stone  quarries  in  the  town  for  the  purpose  of  erecting  this  "Temple  for 
 the  worship  of  God."  In  a  chambered  granite  vault  beneath  the  vestibule  of  this  edifice 
 repose  the  remains  of  President  John  Adams  and  John  Quincy  Adams,  and  of  their 
 honored  consorts. 
 
 "VX7HEN  thy  Son,  O  God,  was  sleeping, 
 
 In  death's  rocky  prison  bound, 
 When  his  faithful  ones  were  weeping, 
 
 And  the  guards  were  watching  round, 
 Then  thy  word,  that  strong  house  shaking, 
 
 Rent  the  rocky  bars  away, 
 And  the  holy  sleeper,  waking, 
 
 Rose  to  meet  the  rising  day. 
 
 When  thy  word,  by  Jesus  spoken, 
 
 In  its  power  is  heard  even  now, 
 Shake  the  hills,  the  rocks  are  broken, 
 
 As  on  Calvary's  trembling  brow. 
 From  the  bosom  of  the  mountain, 
 
 At  that  word,  these  stones  have  burst, 
 And  have  gathered  round  the  fountain 
 
 Where  our  souls  may  quench  their  thirst. 
 
 Here  the  water  of  salvation 
 
 Long  hath  gushed,  a  liberal  wave  ; 
 Here  a  Father  of  our  nation 
 
 Drank,  and  felt  the  strength  it  gave. 
 Here  he  sleeps,  his  bed  how  lowly  ! 
 
 But  his  aim  and  trust  were  high ; 
 And  his  memory,  —  that  is  holy ; 
 
 And  his  name,  —  it  cannot  die. 
 
JOHN  PIERPONT.  37 
 
 While  beneath  this  temple's  portal 
 
 Rest  the  relics  of  the  just, 
 While  the  light  of  hope  immortal 
 
 Shines  above  his  sacred  dust, 
 While  the  well  of  life  its  waters 
 
 To  the  weary  here  shall  give, 
 Father,  may  thy  sons  and  daughters, 
 
 Kneeling  round  it,  drink  and  live. 
 
 SETTLEMENT   OF   BOSTON. 
 
 Written  for  the  Second  Centennial  Celebration  of  the  Settlement  of  Boston,  Sept.  17,  1830. 
 
 DREAK  forth  in  song,  ye  trees, 
 
 As  through  your  tops  the  breeze 
 
 Sweeps  from  the  sea  ; 
 For,  on  its  rushing  wings, 
 To  your  cool  shades  and  springs, 
 That  breeze  a  people  brings, 
 
 Exiled  though  free. 
 
 Ye  sister  hills,  lay  down 
 Of  ancient  oaks  your  crown, 
 
 In  homage  due  : 
 These  are  the  great  of  earth, 
 Great  not  by  kingly  birth, 
 Great  in  their  well-proved  worth. 
 
 Finn  hearts  and  true. 
 
 These  are  the  living  lights, 
 
 That  from  your  bold,  green  heights, 
 
 Shall  shine  afar, 
 Till  they  who  name  the  name 
 Of  Freedom,  toward  the  flame 
 Come,  as  the  Magi  came 
 
 Toward  Bethlehem's  star. 
 
38  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 Gone  are  those  great  and  good 
 Who  here,  in  peril,  stood 
 
 And  raised  their  hymn. 
 Peace  to  the  reverend  dead  ; 
 The  light,  that  on  their  head 
 Two  hundred  years  have  shed, 
 
 Shall  ne'er  grow  dim. 
 
 Ye  temples,  that  to  God 
 Rise  where  our  fathers  trod, 
 
 Guard  well  your  trust,  — 
 The  faith,  that  dared  the  sea, 
 The  truth,  that  made  them  free, 
 Their  cherished  purity, 
 
 Their  garnered  dust. 
 
 Thou  high  and  holy  One, 
 Whose  care  for  sire  and  son 
 
 All  nature  fills, 
 While  day  shall  break  and  close, 
 While  night  her  crescent  shows, 
 Oh,  let  thy  light  repose 
 
 On  these  our  hills. 
 
 GEORGE    WASHINGTON. 
 
 Written  for  the  Celebration  of  the  Centennial  Anniversary  of  the  Birthday  of  Wash- 
 ington, Boston,  Feb-  22,  1832. 
 
 '  I  A0  Thee,  beneath  whose  eye 
 Each  circling  century 
 
 Obedient  rolls, 
 Our  nation,  in  its  prime, 
 Looked  with  a  faith  sublime, 
 And  trusted,  in  "  the  time 
 
 That  tried  men's  souls,"  — 
 
 When,  from  this  #  gate  of  heaven, 
 People  and  priest  were  driven 
 
 *  The  Old  South  Church  was  taken  possession  of  by  the  British,  while  they 
 held  Boston,  and  converted  into  barracks  for  the  cavalry,  the  pews  being  cut  up 
 for  fuel,  or  used  in  constructing  stalls  for  their  horses. 
 
yoi/X  PIERPONT.  39 
 
 By  fire  and  sword, 
 And,  where  thy  saints  had  prayed, 
 The  harnessed  war-horse  neighed, 
 And  horsemen's  trumpets  brayed 
 
 In  harsh  accord. 
 
 Nor  was  our  fathers'  trust, 
 Thou  mighty  One,  and  just, 
 
 Then  put  to  shame  : 
 "  Up  to  the  hills  "  for  light, 
 Looked  they  in  peril's  night, 
 And.  from  yon  guardian  height,* 
 
 Deliverance  came. 
 
 There  like  an  angel  form, 
 Sent  down  to  still  the  storm, 
 
 Stood  Washington  : 
 Clouds  broke  and  roiled  away ; 
 Foes  fled  in  pale  dismay  ; 
 Wreathed  were  his  brows  with  bay, 
 
 When  war  was  done. 
 
 God  of  our  sires  and  sons, 
 Let  other  Washingtons 
 
 Our  country  bless, 
 And,  like  the  brave  and  wise 
 Of  by-gone  centuries, 
 Show  that  true  greatness  lies 
 
 In  righteousness. 
 
 TEMPERANCE    HYMN. 
 
 Written  for  the  simultaneous  Temperance  Meeting,  in  the  Old  South  Church  in  Boston, 
 Feb.  22,  1835. 
 
 /T^f  H  >l~  sparkling  bowl  !  thou  sparkling  bowl ! 
 Though  lips  of  bards  thy  brim  may  press, 
 And  eyes  of  beauty  o'er  thee  roll,     ■ 
 
 And  song  and  dance  thy  power  confess, 
 
 *  From  his  position  on  Dorchester  Heights,  that  overlook  the  town,  General 
 ngton  succeeded  in  compelling  the  British  forces  to  evacuate  Boston. 
 
40  SONGS   OF   THE  LIBERAL   FAITH. 
 
 I  will  not  touch  thee ;  for  there  clings 
 A  scorpion  to  thy  side,  that  stings  ! 
 
 Thou  crystal  glass  !  like  Eden's  tree, 
 Thy  melted  ruby  tempts  the  eye, 
 
 And,  as  from  that,  there  comes  from  thee 
 The  voice,  "  Thou  shalt  not  surely  die." 
 
 I  dare  not  lift  thy  liquid  gem ; 
 
 A  snake  is  twisted  round  thy  stem  ! 
 
 Thou  liquid  fire  !  like  that  which  glowed 
 On  Melita's  surf-beaten  shore, 
 
 Thou'st  been  upon  my  guests  bestowed, 
 But  thou  shalt  warm  my  house  no  more  ; 
 
 For,  wheresoe'er  thy  radiance  falls, 
 
 Forth  from  thy  heart  a  viper  crawls  ! 
 
 What  though  of  gold  the  goblet  be, 
 Embossed  with  branches  of  the  vine, 
 
 Beneath  whose  burnished  leaves  we  see 
 Such  clusters  as  poured  out  the  wine  ? 
 
 Among  those  leaves  an  adder  hangs  ! 
 
 I  fear  him  ;  for  I've  felt  his  fangs. 
 
 The  Hebrew,  who  the  desert  trod, 
 And  felt  the  fiery  serpent's  bite, 
 
 Looked  up  to  that  ordained  of  God, 
 And  found  that  life  was  in  the  sight. 
 
 So,  the  worm-bitten's  fiery  veins 
 
 Cool,  when  he  drinks  what  God  ordains. 
 
 Ye  gracious  clouds  !  ye  deep,  cold  wells  ! 
 
 Ye  gems,  from  mossy  rocks  that  drip  ! 
 Springs,  that  from  earth's  mysterious  cells 
 
 Gush  o'er  your  granite  basin's  lip  ! 
 To  you  I  look  :  your  largess  give, 
 And  I  will  drink  of  you,  and  live. 
 
JOHN  PIERPONT.  4 1 
 
 CHARLES    FOLLEN. 
 
 Written  for  the  funeral  service  in  commemoration  of  the  life  and  character  of  Charles 
 .  before  the  Massachusetts  Anti-Slavery  Society,  April  i;;  i940. 
 
 /^VH,  not  for  thee  we  weep  ;  we  weep 
 ^^^     For  her,  whose  love  and  long  caress, 
 And  widow's  tears,  from  fountains  deep, 
 Fall  on  the  early  fatherless. 
 
 'Tis  for  ourselves  we  mourn  ;  we  mourn 
 Our  blighted  hopes,  our  wishes  crossed, 
 
 Thy  strength  that  hath  our  burdens  borne, 
 Thy  love,  thy  smile,  thy  counsels  lost. 
 
 'Tis  for  the  slave  we  sigh  ;  we  sigh 
 
 To  think  thou  sleepest  on  a  shore 
 Where  thy  calm  voice  and  beaming  eye 
 
 Shall  plead  the  bondman's  cause  no  more. 
 
 'Tis  for  our  land  we  grieve  ;  we  grieve 
 That  Freedom's  fane,  Devotion's  shrine, 
 
 And  Faith's  fresh  altar,  thou  should'st  leave, 
 And  they  all  lose  a  soul  like  thine. 
 
 A  soul  like  thine,  —  so  true  a  soul,  — 
 
 Wife,  friends,  our  land,  the  world,  must  miss  ; 
 
 The  waters  o'er  thy  corse  may  roll, 
 But  thy  pure  spirit  is  in  bliss. 
 
 MY    FATHER,    MOTHER,    BROTHERS,    SISTERS. 
 
 This  is  the  title  of  a  poem  of  sixteen  verses,  which  is  in  the  author's  most  tende.   and 
 beautiful  vein.     We  give  only  the  first  four. 
 
 r  I  "HEY  are  all  gone  but  one, — 
 A  daughter  and  a  son 
 Were,  from  my  parents,  early  taken  away  ; 
 And  my  own  childhood's  joy 
 Was  darkened  when,  a  boy, 
 I  saw  them,  in  their  coffins  as  they  lay. 
 
42  SONGS   OF   THE  LIBERAL   FAITH. 
 
 To  manhood  had  I  grown ; 
 
 And  children  of  my  own 
 Were  gathering  round  me,  when  my  mother  died. 
 
 I  saw  not  her  cold  clay, 
 
 When  it  was  borne  away 
 And  buried  by  her  little  children's  side, 
 
 Beneath  the  now  green  sod. 
 
 She  led  me  first  to  God  : 
 Her  words  and  prayers  were  my  young  spirit's  dew. 
 
 For,  when  she  used  to  leave 
 
 The  fireside  every  eve, 
 I  knew  that  it  was  for  prayer  that  she  withdrew. 
 
 That  dew,  that  blessed  my  youth,  — 
 
 Her  holy  love,  her  truth, 
 Her  spirit  of  devotion,  and  the  tears 
 
 That  she  could  not  suppress,  — 
 
 Hath  never  ceased  to  bless 
 My  soul,  nor  will  it,  through  eternal  years. 
 
 HYMN    OF    THE    LAST    SUPPER. 
 
 And  when  they  had  sung  a  hymn,  they  went  out  into  the  Mount  of  Olives."  —  Matthew 
 
 xxvi.  30. 
 
 HPHE  winds  are  hushed  ;  the  peaceful  moon 
 
 Looks  down  on  Zion's  hill  ; 
 The  city  sleeps ;  'tis  night's  calm  noon, 
 And  all  the  streets  are  still. 
 
 Save  when,  along  the  shaded  walks, 
 
 We  hear  the  watchman's  call, 
 Or  the  guard's  footsteps,  as  he  stalks 
 
 In  moonlight  on  the  wall. 
 
 How  soft,  how  holy,  is  this  light ! 
 
 And  hark  !  a  mournful  song, 
 As  gentle  as  these  clews  of  night, 
 
 Floats  on  the  air  along. 
 
 . 
 
JOHN  PIERPOXT.  43 
 
 Affection's  wish,  devotion's  prayer, 
 
 Are  in  that  holy  strain  ; 
 'Tis  resignation,  not  despair, 
 
 'Tis  triumph,  though  'tis  pain. 
 
 'Tis  Jesus  and  his  faithful  few 
 That  pour  that  hymn  of  love  ; 
 
 O  God  !  may  we  the  song  renew 
 Around  thy  board  above  ! 
 
 REMEMBRANCE    OF    CHRIST. 
 
 /^UR  Father,  we  approach  thy  board, 
 
 As  children  that  would  be  forgiven  ; 
 Remembering  him,  thy  Son,  who  poured 
 His  blood,  to  seal  our  hope  of  heaven. 
 
 O  God,  our  Saviour !  while  we  thus 
 
 Remember  him  who  made  us  free, 
 Who  agonized  and  died  for  us, 
 
 Our  grateful  hearts  would  rise  to  thee. 
 
 In  him,  whose  bursting  heart  the  cloud 
 Of  sorrow  chilled,  and  wretchedness  ; 
 
 In  him,  whose  fainting  head  was  bowed 
 In  his  unspeakable  distress  ; 
 
 Oh,  listen  to  our  fervent  prayer  : 
 
 That  he,  who  hung  on  Calvary's  hill, 
 
 And  gave  thee  back  his  spirit  there, 
 May  live  in  our  affections  still. 
 
 HE    IS    NOT   THERE. 
 
 A  part  of  an  exquisitely  touching  and  beautiful  poem  of  ten  stanzas,  originally  printed 
 in  the  "  Monthly  Misceilany,"  October,  1840.  Like  the  two  pieces  which  follow  it,  it  is  not 
 found  in  the  volume  of  poems. 
 
 T   CANNOT  make  him  dead  : 
 His  fair  sunshiny  head 
 Is  ever  bounding  round  my  study  chair  ; 
 
 Yet  when  my  eyes,  now  dim 
 
 With  tears,  I  turn  to  him, 
 The  vision  vanishes,  —  he  is  not  there  ! 
 
44  SONGS   OF   THE  LIBERAL   FAITH. 
 
 Not  there  ;  —  where,  then,  is  he  ? 
 
 The  form  I  used  to  see 
 Was  but  the  raiment  that  he  used  to  wear. 
 
 The  grave,  that  now  doth  press 
 
 Upon  that  cast-ofl  dress, 
 Is  but  his  wardrobe  locked  \  —  he  is  not  there  ! 
 
 He  lives,  —  in  all  the  past 
 
 He  lives  ;  nor  to  the  last, 
 Of  seeing  him  again  will  I  despair. 
 
 In  dreams  I  see  him  now ; 
 
 And,  on  his  angel  brow, 
 I  see  it  written,  "  Thou  shalt  see  me  there." 
 
 Yes,  we  all  live  to  God  ; 
 
 Father,  thy  chastening  rod 
 So  help  us,  thine  afflicted  ones,  to  bear, 
 
 That,  in  the  spirit  land, 
 
 Meeting  at  thy  right  hand, 
 'Twill  be  our  heaven  to  find  that  —  he  is  there. 
 
 The  following  hymn  was  written  by  Mr.  Pierpont  for  the  consecra- 
 tion of  the  burial-grounds  of  the  Church  of  the  Saviour,  Brooklyn, 
 N.Y.  They  are  situated  on  a  noble  eminence  in  Greenwood  Cemetery, 
 are  shaded  by  a  variety  of  ornamental  trees,  and  are  surrounded  with 
 much  of  the  beauty  and  loveliness  that  reign  in  that  city  of  the  dead. 
 The  poet,  in  his  frequent  Visits  among  his  relatives  in  Brooklyn,  the 
 family  of  the  late  Joseph  L.  Lord,  was  often  called  upon  to  exercise  his 
 gift  for  our  Unitarian  friends  there,  on  special  public  occasions.  His 
 pen  was  ever  ready  for  the  service  ;  and  it  is  in  illustration  of  the 
 marvellous  facility  and  success  with  which  he  was  wont  to  respond  to 
 all  such  requests,  that,  as  Rev.  Dr.  Farley,  then  pastor  of  the  Church, 
 informs  us,  he  composed  these  lines  in  an  incredibly  short  space  of 
 time. 
 
 CONSECRATION   AT    GREENWOOD    CEMETERY. 
 
 (~\  GOD,  beneath  this  Greenwood  shade, 
 
 Beneath  this  blue  autumnal  sky, 
 Would  we,  by  those  we  love,  be  laid, 
 Whene'er  it  is  our  time  to  die. 
 
yoiix  pierpoxt.  45 
 
 The  glory  of  this  woodland  scene, 
 
 These  Leaves  that  came  at  summer's  call, 
 
 These  leaves,  so  lately  young  and  green, 
 Even  now  begin  to  fade  and  fall. 
 
 So  shall  we  fade  and  fall,  at  length  ; 
 
 Youth's  blooming  cheek,  the  silver}-  hair 
 Of  reverend  age,  and  manhood's  strength, 
 
 Shall  here  repose :    Then  hear  our  prayer, 
 
 O  Thou,  who,  by  Thy  Son,  hast  said, 
 
 From  fear  of  death  to  set  us  free, 
 "  God  is  a  God,  not  of  the  dead,"  — 
 
 That  we,  for  aye,  may  live  in  Thee  ! 
 
 "E    PLURIBUS    UNUM." 
 
 Written  during  the  war  for  the  preservation  of  the  Union. 
 
 'T^HE  harp  of  the  minstrel  with  melody  rings, 
 
 When  the  Muses  have  taught  him  to  touch  and  to  tune 
 
 it; 
 And  though  he  may  have  a  full  octave  of  strings, 
 To  both  maker  and  minstrel  the  harp  is  a  unit. 
 So  the  power  that  creates 
 Our  republic  of  States, 
 To  harmony  attunes  them  at  different  dates  ; 
 And,  many  or  few,  when  the  Union  is  done, 
 Be  they  thirteen  or  thirty,  the  Nation  is  one. 
 
 The  science  that  measures  and  numbers  the  spheres, 
 And  has  done  so  since  first  the  Chaldean  began  it, 
 Now  and  then  as  she  counts  them,  and  measures  their  years, 
 Brings  into  our  system  and  names  a  new  planet. 
 Yet  the  old  and  new  stars, 
 Venus,  Neptune,  and  Mars, 
 As  they  drive  round  the  sun  their  invisible  cars, 
 Whether  faster  or  slower  their  races  are  run, 
 Are  u  E  Pluribus  Unum,"  —  of  many  made  one. 
 
46  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 Of  those  federate  spheres  should  but  one  fly  the  track, 
 
 Or  with  others  conspire  for  a  general  dispersion, 
 By  the  great  central  orb  they  would  all  be  brought  back, 
 And  held,  each  in  its  place,  by  a  wholesome  "  coercion." 
 Were  one  daughter  of  light 
 Indulged  in  her  flight, 
 They  might  all  be  engulfed  by  old  Chaos  and  Night ; 
 So  must  none  of  our  sisters  be  suffered  to  run, 
 For,  "  E  Pluribus  Unum,"  —  we  all  go,  if  one. 
 
 Let  the  Demon  of  Discord  our  melody  mar, 
 
 Or  Treason's  red  hand  rend  our  system  asunder, 
 Break  one  string  from  our  harp,  or  extinguish  one  star, 
 The  whole  system's  ablaze  with  its  lightning  and  thunder. 
 Let  that  discord  be  hushed  ; 
 Let  the  traitors  be  crushed, 
 Though  "  Legion  "  their  name,  all  with  victory  flushed  ; 
 For  aye  must  our  motto  stand,  fronting  the  sun, 
 "  E  Pluribus  Unum,"  —  the  many  are  one. 
 
 Among  the  numerous  hymns  written  by  Mr.  Pierpont,  after  the  pub- 
 lication of  his  volume  of  poems  in  1840,  there  are,  beside  those  which 
 we  have  copied  above,  some  whose  first  lines  are  as  follows  :  "  Robed  in 
 sackcloth,  dark  and  deep,"  1841  ;  "  The  bloom  of  spring,  at  last,  has 
 come,"  1843;  "The  dead!  the  reverend  dead!"  1843;  "Sacred  to 
 Thee,  Eternal  One,"  1848  ;  "God  of  the  rolling  year,"  1849  ;  "To  thee; 
 O  God,  in  humble  trust,"  1850  ;  "  Glad  hearts,  O  God,  we  bring,"  1855  ; 
 "  On,  'mid  the  starry  spheres,"  1858. 
 
 OO^iM 
 
 ANDREWS    NORTON. 
 
 (1786-1853-) 
 
 Andrews  Norton,  the  youngest  child  of  Samuel  and  Jane  Norton, 
 was  born  at  Hingham,  Mass.,  Dec.  31,  1786.  He  completed  his  pre- 
 paratory studies  at  the  Derby  Academy  in  that  town,  and  entered  the 
 Sophomore  class  in  Harvard  College  in  1801,  graduating  in  1804.  Hav- 
 ing afterward  spent  a  considerable  time  at  Cambridge,  and  at  Hingham, 
 in  a  course  of  literary  and  theological  study,  he  preached  for  a  few  weeks 
 in  Augusta,  Me.,  in  1809,  and  then  was  a  tutor  for  a  year  in  Bowdoin 
 
ANDREWS  NORTON.  47 
 
 College.  For  another  year  he  was  tutor  in  Mathematics  in  Harvard 
 College;  in  [813  was  appointed  Librarian,  and  subsequently  Lecturer  ou 
 Biblical  Criticism  and  Interpretation,  meanwhile  preaching  in  various 
 pulpits  in  Boston  and  other  places.  On  the  establishment  of  the  Theo- 
 logical School  in  Cambridge,  in  1S19,  Mr.  Norton  was  chosen  its  Dexter 
 Professor  of  Sacred  Literature,  and  occupied  the  position  until  1830. 
 He  continued  his  residence  at  that  seat  of  learning  for  the  remainder  of 
 his  life,  passing  his  time  in  scholarly  retirement,  and  giving  to  the  press 
 at  intervals  the  results  of  his  able,  careful,  and  conscientious  thought  and 
 investigations.     He  died  at  Newport,  R.I.,  Sept.  18,  1853. 
 
 In  1S12  he  became  editor  of  the  "General  Repository  and  Review," 
 in  the  interest  of  the  more  liberal  views  of  Christianity  which  had  begun 
 to  prevail  among  the  churches.  In  1826  he  collected  and  republished 
 the  poetry  of  Mrs.  Hemans,  for  which  he  had  a  high  admiration,  and 
 in  1S27  he  sailed  for  Europe.  In  1833  he  published  his  well-known 
 "  Statement  of  Reasons  for  not  believing  the  Doctrines  of  Trinitarians 
 concerning  the  Nature  of  God  and  the  Person  of  Christ ;  "  and  in  1833— 
 34  he  was  associated  with  Charles  Folsom,  Esq.,  in  editing  "The  Select 
 Journal  of  Foreign  Periodical  Literature."  The  first  volume  of  his  great 
 work,  "The  Genuineness  of  the  Gospels,"  appeared  in  1837  ;  the  second 
 and  third  volumes,  in  1844;  and  his  "Tracts  on  Christianity,"  in  1852. 
 His  fourth  volume  on  the  "Genuineness  of  the  Gospels,"  and  his 
 "Translation  of  the  Gospels,"  were  both  published  after  his  death, 
 though  in  an  incomplete  form.  His  books,  lectures,  pamphlet  discourses, 
 and  literary  and  theological  magazine  contributions,  were  marked  by 
 great  ability  and  learning,  and  exerted  a  wide  and  powerful  influence 
 in  moulding  opinion  and  thought  in  his  day.  This  eminent  Christian 
 teacher  was  not  only  a  distinguished  scholar,  controversialist,  and  critic, 
 but  one  of  the  finest  of  poets  as  well.  Rev.  William  Newell,  D.D.,  in  an 
 article  in  the  "  Christian  Examiner,"  November,  1853,  writes  :  "The  few 
 specimens  which  he  has  left  behind  are  gems  of  rare  lustre,  finished  of 
 their  kind."  These,  just  after  his  death,  were  printed  in  a  small  volume, 
 from  which  we  copy  the  following  pieces,  indicating  also  where  and 
 when  most  of  them  were  originally  published. 
 
 TRUST   AND    SUBMISSION. 
 
 "  Monthly  Anthology  and  Boston  Review,"  September,  1809. 
 
 A/fY  God,  I  thank  thee  ;  may  no  thought 
 ^  E'er  deem  thy  chastisements  severe  ; 
 
 But  may  this  heart,  by  sorrow  taught, 
 Calm  each  wild  wish,  each  idle  fear. 
 
48      SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 Thy  mercy  bids  all  nature  bloom  ; 
 
 The  sun  shines  bright,  and  man  is  gay ; 
 Thine  equal  mercy  spreads  the  gloom, 
 
 That  darkens  o'er  his  little  day. 
 
 Full  many  a  throb  of  grief  and  pain 
 Thy  frail  and  erring  child  must  know  ; 
 
 But  not  one  prayer  is  breathed  in  vain, 
 Nor  does  one  tear  unheeded  flow. 
 
 Thy  various  messengers  employ, 
 Thy  purposes  of  love  fulfil ; 
 
 And,  'mid  the  wreck  of  human  joy, 
 Let  kneeling  faith  adore  thy  will. 
 
 THE    DEATH    OF   A   YOUNG    FRIEND. 
 
 "  General  Repository  and  Review,"  April,  1812. 
 
 /^H,  stay  thy  tears  ;  for  they  are  blest, 
 
 Whose  days  are  past,  whose  toil  is  done : 
 Here  midnight  care  disturbs  our  rest ; 
 Here  sorrow  dims  the  noonday  sun. 
 
 For  laboring  Virtue's  anxious  toil, 
 
 For  patient  Sorrow's  stifled  sigh, 
 For  Faith  that  marks  the  conqueror's  spoil, 
 
 Heaven  grants  the  recompense  —  to  die. 
 
 How  blest  are  they  whose  transient  years 
 Pass  like  an  evening  meteor's  flight ! 
 
 Not  dark  with  guilt,  nor  dim  with  tears  ; 
 Whose  course  is  short,  unclouded,  bright. 
 
 Oh,  cheerless  were  our  lengthened  way, 
 
 Did  Heaven's  own  light  not  break  the  gloom, 
 
 Stream  downward  from  eternal  day, 
 And  cast  a  glory  round  the  tomb. 
 
ANDREWS  NORTON.  49 
 
 Oh,  stay  thy  tears  :  the  blest  above 
 Have  hailed  a  spirit's  heavenly  birth, 
 
 Sung  a  new  song  of  joy  and  love  ; 
 
 And  why  should  anguish  reign  on  earth? 
 
 WRITTEN    AFTER   A   SUMMER    SHOWER. 
 
 "  Christian  Disciple,"  March  and  April  No.,  1819. 
 
 'T^HE  rain  is  o'er,  —  how  dense  and  bright 
 
 Yon  pearly  clouds  reposing  lie  ! 
 Cloud  above  cloud,  a  glorious  sight, 
 Contrasting  with  the  deep  blue  sky  ! 
 
 In  grateful  silence  earth  receives 
 
 The  general  blessing ;  fresh  and  fair, 
 
 Each  flower  expands  its  little  leaves, 
 As  glad  the  common  joy  to  share. 
 
 The  softened  sunbeams  pour  around 
 
 A  fairy  light,  uncertain,  pale  ; 
 The  wind  flows  cool,  the  scented  ground 
 
 Is  breathing  odors  on  the  gale. 
 
 'Mid  yon  rich  clouds'  voluptuous  pile, 
 
 Methinks  some  spirit  of  the  air 
 Might  rest  to  gaze  below  awhile, 
 
 Then  turn  to  bathe  and  revel  there. 
 
 The  sun  breaks  forth,  —  from  off  the  scene, 
 Its  floating  veil  of  mist  is  flung; 
 
 And  all  the  wilderness  of  green 
 
 With  trembling  drops  of  light  is  hung. 
 
 Now  gaze  on  nature,  — yet  the  same, 
 Glowing  with  life,  by  breezes  fanned, 
 
 Luxuriant,  lovely,  as  she  came 
 
 Fresh  in  her  youth  from  God's  own  hand. 
 4 
 
50 
 
 SONGS   OF   THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 Hear  the  rich  music  of  that  voice, 
 
 Which  sounds  from  all,  below,  above ; 
 
 She  calls  her. children  to  rejoice, 
 
 And  round  them  throws  her  arms  of  love. 
 
 Drink  in  her  influence  :  low-born  care, 
 And  all  the  train  of  mean  desire, 
 
 Refuse  to  breathe  this  holy  air, 
 And  in  this  living  light  expire. 
 
 THE   PARTING. 
 
 Christian  Examiner,"  January  and  February  No.,  1824. 
 
 VX  7E  did  not  part  as  others  part ; 
 
 And  should  we  meet  on  earth  no  more, 
 Yet  deep  and  dear  within  my  heart 
 
 a  treasured  store. 
 
 Some  thoughts  will  rest, 
 
 How  oft,  when  weary  and  alone, 
 
 Have  I  recalled  each  word,  each  look, 
 
 The  meaning  of  each  varying  tone, 
 And  the  last  parting  glance  we  took ! 
 
 Yes,  sometimes  even  here  are  found 
 
 Those  who  can  touch  the  chords  of  love, 
 
 And  wake  a  glad  and  holy  sound, 
 
 Like  that  which  fills  the  courts  above. 
 
 It  is  as  when  a  traveller  hears, 
 
 In  a  strange  land,  his  native  tongue, 
 
 A  voice  he  loved  in  happier  years, 
 A  song  which  once  his  mother  sung. 
 
 We  part :  the  sea  may  roll  between, 
 
 While  we  through  different  climates  roam  ; 
 
 Sad  days  ^-  a  life  —  may  intervene  ; 
 But  we  shall  meet  again  —  at  home. 
 
ANDREWS  NORTON.  5  I 
 
 FORTITUDE. 
 
 "  Christian  Disciple,"  July  and  August  No.,  1822. 
 
 "PLAINT  not,  poor  traveller,  though  thy  way 
 
 Be  rough,  like  that  thy  Saviour  trod  ; 
 Though  cold  and  stormy  lower  the  day, 
 This  path  of  suffering  leads  to  God. 
 
 Nay,  sink  not,  though  from  every  limb 
 
 Are  starting  drops  of  toil  and  pain  ; 
 Thou  dost  but  share  the  lot  of  Him, 
 
 With  whom  his  followers  are  to  reign. 
 
 Thy  friends  are  gone,  and  thou,  alone, 
 
 Must  bear  the  sorrows  that  assail ; 
 Look  upward  to  the  eternal  throne, 
 
 And  know  a  Friend  who  cannot  fail. 
 
 Bear  firmly  :  yet  a  few  more  days, 
 
 And  thy  hard  trial  will  be  past  j 
 Then,  wrapt  in  glory's  opening  blaze, 
 
 Thy  feet  shall  rest  on  heaven  at  last. 
 
 Christian  !  thy  Friend,  thy  Master  prayed, 
 When  dread  and  anguish  shook  his  frame  ; 
 
 Then  met  his  sufferings  undismayed,  — 
 Wilt  thou  not  strive  to  do  the  same  ? 
 
 Oh  !  think'st  thou  that  his  Father's  love 
 Shone  round  him  then  with  fainter  rays 
 
 Than  now,  when,  throned  all  height  above, 
 Unceasing  voices  hymn  his  praise  ? 
 
 Go,  sufferer !  calmly  meet  the  woes 
 
 Which  God's  own  mercy  bids  thee  bear ; 
 
 Then,  rising,  as  thy  Saviour  rose, 
 Go  !  his  eternal  victory  share. 
 
52  SONGS   OF   THE  LIBERAL   FAITH. 
 
 FUNERAL    HYMN. 
 
 "  Christian  Examiner,"  January  and  February  No.,  1824. 
 
 H 
 
 E  has  gone  to  his  God,  he  has  gone  to  his  home 
 No  more  amid  peril  and  error  to  roam. 
 His  eyes  are  no  longer  dim, 
 
 His  feet  no  more  will  falter  ; 
 No  grief  can  follow  him, 
 
 No  pang  his  cheek  can  alter. 
 
 There  are  paleness,  and  weeping,  and  sighs  below ; 
 For  our  faith  is  faint,  and  our  tears  will  flow  ; 
 But  the  harps  of  heaven  are  ringing, 
 
 Glad  angels  come  to  greet  him, 
 And  hymns  of  joy  are  singing, 
 
 While  old  friends  press  to  meet  him. 
 
 O  honored,  beloved  !  to  earth  unconfined, 
 Thou  hast  soared  on  high,  thou  hast  left  us  behind  ; 
 But  our  parting  is  not  for  ever. 
 
 We  will  follow  thee  by  heaven's  light, 
 Where  the  grave  cannot  dissever 
 The  souls  whom  God  will  unite. 
 
 ON  THE  CLOSE  OF  THE  YEAR. 
 
 "Christian  Examiner,"  Nov.  and  Dec  No.,  1827. 
 
 A  NOTHER  year  !  another  year  ! 
 
 The  unceasing  rush  of  time  sweeps  on  ; 
 Whelmed  in  its  surges,  disappear 
 
 Man's  hopes  and  fears,  for  ever  gone. 
 
 Oh,  no  !  forbear  that  idle  tale  ; 
 
 The  hour  demands  another  strain, — ■ 
 Demands  high  thoughts  that  cannot  quail, 
 
 And  strength  to  conquer  and  retain. 
 
ANDREWS  XORTON.  53 
 
 'Tis  midnight.     From  the  dark-blue  sky 
 The  stars,  which  now  look  down  on  earth, 
 
 Have  seen  ten  thousand  centuries  fly, 
 
 And  give  to  countless  changes  birth.  * 
 
 And  when  the  pyramids  shall  fall, 
 
 And,  mouldering,  mix  as  dust  in  air, 
 The  dwellers  on  this  altered  ball 
 
 May  still  behold  them  glorious  there. 
 
 Shine  on  !  shine  on  !  —  with  you  I  tread 
 
 The  march  of  ages,  orbs  of  light  ! 
 A  last  eclipse  o'er  you  may  spread  ; 
 
 To  me,  to  me,  there  comes  no  night. 
 
 Oh  !  what  concerns  it  him  whose  way 
 
 Lies  upward  to  the  immortal  dead, 
 That  a  few  hairs  are  turning  gray, 
 
 Or  one  more  year  of  life  has  fled  ? 
 
 Swift  years  !  but  teach  me  how  to  bear, 
 To  feel  and  act  with  strength  and  skill, 
 
 To  reason  wisely,  nobly  dare, 
 
 And  speed  your  courses  as  you  will. 
 
 When  life's  meridian  toils  are  done, 
 
 How  calm,  how  rich  the  twilight  glow,  — 
 
 The  morning  twilight  of  a  sun 
 
 That  shines  not  here  on  things  below ! 
 
 But  sorrow,  sickness,  death,  the  pain 
 
 To  leave  or  lose,  wife,  children,  friends,  — 
 
 What  then  ?     Shall  we  not;  meet  again, 
 Where  parting  comes  not,  sorrow  ends  ? 
 
 The  fondness  of  a  parent's  care, 
 
 The  changeless  trust  which  woman  gives, 
 
 The  smile  of  childhood,  —  it  is  there 
 That  all  we  love  in  them  still  lives. 
 
54  SONGS   OF  THE  LIBERAL   FAITH. 
 
 Press  onward  through  each  varying  hour  ; 
 
 Let  no  weak  fears  thy  course  delay  : 
 Immortal  being  !  feel  thy  power, 
 
 Pursue  thy  bright  and  endless  way. 
 
 HYMN  FOR  THE  DEDICATION  OF  A  CHURCH. 
 
 T17HERE  ancient  forests  round  us  spread, 
 Where  bends  the  cataract's  ocean-fall, 
 On  the  lone  mountain's  silent  head, 
 There  are  thy  temples,  God  of  all ! 
 
 Beneath  the  dark-blue  midnight  arch, 
 
 Whence  myriad  suns  pour  down  their  rays, 
 
 Where  planets  trace  their  ceaseless  march, 
 Father  !  we  worship  as  we  gaze. 
 
 The  tombs  thy  altars  are  ;  for  there, 
 
 When  earthly  loves  and  hopes  have  fled, 
 
 To  thee  ascends  the  spirit's  prayer, 
 Thou  God  of  the  immortal  dead  ! 
 
 All  space  is  holy ;  for  all  space 
 
 Is  filled  by  thee ;  but  human  thought 
 
 Burns  clearer  in  some  chosen  place, 
 
 Where  thy  own  words  of  love  are  taught. 
 
 Here  be  they  taught ;  and  may  we  know 
 That  faith  thy  servants  knew  of  old, 
 
 Which  onward  bears  through  weal  and  woe, 
 Till  Death  the  gates  of  heaven  unfold. 
 
 Nor  we  alone  :  may  those  whose  brow 
 
 Shows  yet  no  trace  of  human  cares, 
 Hereafter  stand  where  we  do  now, 
 
 And  raise  to  thee  still  holier  prayers. 
 1833- 
 
ELIZA   LEE  FOLLEX.  55 
 
 ELIZA     LEE    FOLLEN. 
 (17S7-1S60.) 
 
 Mrs.  ELIZA  LEE  Follen,  daughter  of  Samuel  and  Sarah  Cabot,  was 
 born  in  Boston,  Aug.  15,  17S7.  In  her  early  life  she  contributed  various 
 pieces  of  prose  and  poetry  to  the  papers  and  magazines.  In  1828  she 
 was  married  to  Prof.  Charles  Follen,  the  eminent  exiled  friend  of  civil 
 and  religious  liberty,  who  came  to  this  country  in  1825,  and  was  for  some 
 years  a  teacher  of  the  German  Language  and  of  Ecclesiastical  History  and 
 Ethics  at  Cambridge,  and  was  afterward  the  pastor  of  the  Unitarian  So- 
 ciety at  East  Lexington.  While  minister  of  this  church,  he  perished  on 
 board  the  ill-fated  "  Lexington,"  which  was  burned  on  Long  Island  Sound, 
 Jan.  13,  1840.  During  more  than  thirty  years  of  her  married  life,  she  pub- 
 lished, at  intervals,  a  variety  of  popular  and  useful  books,  all  of  which 
 were  characterized  by  her  well-known  purity  of  taste  and  sentiment,  and 
 by  her  elevated  Christian  piety.  Among  the  works  she  gave  to  the  press 
 are,  "Selections  from  Fenelon,"  "The  Well-spent  Hour,"  "Words  of 
 Truth,"  "The  Sceptic,"  "Married  Life,"  "Little  Songs,"  "Poems," 
 "  Life  of  Charles  Follen,"  "Twilight  Stories,"  "  Second  Series  of  Little 
 Songs,"  a  compilation  of  "Home  Dramas,"  "German  Fairy  Tales." 
 In  her  deep  interest  in  the  religious  instruction  of  the  young,  she  edited, 
 in  1S29,  the  "Christian  Teacher's  Manual,"  and,  from  1843  to  1850,  the 
 "  Child's  Friend."     She  died  in  Brookline,  Mass.,  Jan.  26,  1S60. 
 
 From  the  volume  of  "  Poems,"  published  in  1839,  we  copy  some  of 
 her  hymns,  several  of  which  have  found  a  place  in  various  church  Col- 
 lections. 
 
 SABBATH    DAY. 
 
 TTOW  sweet,  upon  this  sacred  day, 
 
 The  best  of  all  the  seven, 
 To  cast  our  earthly  thoughts  away, 
 And  think  of  God  and  heaven ! 
 
 How  sweet  to  be  allowed  to  pray 
 
 Our  sins  may  be  forgiven  ! 
 With  filial  confidence  to  say, 
 
 "  Father,  who  art  in  heaven  !  n 
 
56  SONGS  of  the  liberal  faith. 
 
 With  humble  hope  to  bend  the  knee, 
 And,  free  from  folly's  leaven, 
 
 Confess  that  we  have  strayed  from  thee, 
 Thou  righteous  Judge  in  heaven. 
 
 And  if,  to  make  all  sin  depart, 
 In  vain  the  will  has  striven, 
 
 He  who  regards  the  inmost  heart 
 Will  send  his  grace  from  heaven. 
 
 If,  from  the  bosom  that  is  clear, 
 By  cold  unkindness  driven, 
 
 The  heart,  that  knows  no  refuge  here, 
 Shall  find  a  friend  in  heaven  ;  — 
 
 Then  hail,  thou  sacred,  blessed  day, 
 
 The  best  of  all  the  seven, 
 When  hearts  unite  their  vows  to  pay 
 
 Of  gratitude  to  Heaven  ! 
 
 SUNSET    ON    THE    HILLS. 
 
 T  T  is  the  gentle  evening  hour, 
 
 And,  see,  the  shades  are  lengthening  fast ; 
 My  spirit  feels  its  softening  power, 
 
 And  troubles,  with  the  day,  have  passed. 
 
 In  quiet  beauty,  fixed  repose, 
 
 The  hills,  like  guardians  of  the  land, 
 
 Catch  the  last  sunbeam  as  it  glows, 
 And  bright  in  tranquil  grandeur  stand. 
 
 All,  all  is  beauty,  love,  and  peace  ; 
 
 Mysterious  longings  heave  and  swell 
 Within  my  soul,  and  shall  not  cease, 
 
 Till  a  like  glory  there  shall  dwell. 
 
ELIZA    LEE   10LLEN.  S7 
 
 "TO    WHOM    SHALL    WE    GO?" 
 
 TT7HEN  our  purest  delights  are  nipt  in  the  blossom, 
 
 When  those  we  love  best  are  laid  low, 
 When  grief  plants  in  secret  her  thorns  in  the  bosom, 
 Deserted,  "  To  whom  shall  we  go  ?  " 
 
 When  error  bewilders,  and  our  path  becomes  dreary, 
 
 And  tears  of  despondency  flow  ; 
 When  the  whole  head  is  sick,  and  the  whole  heart  is  weary, 
 
 Despairing,  "  To  whom  shall  we  go  ?  " 
 
 When  the  sad,  thirsty  spirit  turns  from  the  springs 
 
 Of  enchantment  this  life  can  bestow, 
 And  sighs  for  another,  and  flutters  its  wings, 
 
 Impatient,  "  To  whom  shall  we  go  ?  " 
 
 Oh  !  blest  be  that  light  which  has  parted  the  clouds, 
 
 A  path  to  the  pilgrim  to  show, 
 That  pierces  the  veil  which  the  future  enshrouds, 
 
 And  shows  us  to  whom  we  may  go. 
 
 HYMN    OF    PRAISE. 
 
 "DRAISE  to  God  !  oh,  let  us  raise 
 
 From  our  hearts  a  song  of  praise  ; 
 Of  that  goodness  let  us  sing, 
 Whence  our  lives  and  blessings  spring. 
 
 Praise  to  him  who  made  the  light ; 
 Praise  to  him  who  gave  us  sight ; 
 Praise  to  him  who  formed  the  ear; 
 Will  he  not  his  children  hear? 
 
 Praise  him  for  our  happy  hours  ; 
 Praise  him  for  our  varied  powers  ; 
 For  these  thoughts  that  rise  above, 
 For  these  hearts  he  made  for  love. 
 
58       SONGS  OF   THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 For  the  voice  he  placed  within, 
 Bearing  witness  when  we  sin  ; 
 Praise  to  him  whose  tender  care 
 Keeps  this  watchful  guardian  there. 
 
 Praise  to  his  mercy,  that  did  send 
 Jesus  for  our  guide  and  friend  ; 
 Praise  him,  every  heart  and  voice, 
 Him  who  makes  all  worlds  rejoice. 
 
 WE    NEVER    PART    FROM    THEE. 
 
 /^*OD,  who  dwellest  everywhere, 
 
 God,  who  makest  all  thy  care, 
 God,  who  nearest  every  prayer, 
 
 Thou  who  seest  the  heart,  — 
 Thou,  to  whom  we  lift  our  eyes, 
 Father,  help  our  souls  to  rise, 
 And,  beyond  these  narrow  skies, 
 
 See  thee  as  thou  art. 
 
 Let  our  anxious  thoughts  be  still, 
 Holy  trust  adore  thy  will, 
 Holy  love  our  bosoms  fill ; 
 
 Let  our  songs  ascend. 
 Dearest  friends  may  parted  be, 
 All  our  earthly  treasures  flee, 
 Yet  we  never  part  from  thee, 
 
 Our  eternal  Friend. 
 
 ON    PRAYER. 
 
 A  S  through  the  pathless  fields  of  air 
 
 Once  wandered  forth  the  timid  dove, 
 So  does  the  heart,  in  humble  prayer, 
 Essay  to  reach  the  throne  of  love. 
 
ELIZA   LEE  FOLLEN.  59 
 
 Like  her,  it  may  return  unblest; 
 
 Like  her,  again  may  soar  ; 
 And  still  return  and  find  no  rest, 
 
 No  peaceful,  happy  shore. 
 
 But  now  once  more  she  spreads  her  wings, 
 
 And  takes  a  bolder  flight,  — 
 And,  see  !  the  olive-branch  she  brings, 
 
 To  bless  her  master's  sight. 
 
 And  thus  the  heart  renews  its  strength, 
 
 Though  spent  and  tempest-driven  ; 
 And  higher  soars,  and  brings,  at  length, 
 
 A  pledge  of  peace  with  Heaven. 
 
 THE    TWENTY-NINTH    PSALM. 
 
 TN  the  beauty  of  holiness  worship  .the  Lord  ; 
 
 Exalt  him,  ye  nations,  and  bow  to  his  word  ; 
 Ye  mighty,  his  power  and  wisdom  proclaim, 
 And  give  him  the  glory  due  unto  his  name. 
 
 It  is  he  that  we  hear  in  the  storm's  wild  commotion  ; 
 And  the  voice  of  the  Lord  is  on  the  wide  ocean  j 
 The  cedars  of  Lebanon  bow  at  his  voice, 
 While  men  in  his  temple  adore  and  rejoice. 
 
 'Tis  the  Lord  in  the  deep-rolling  thunder  we  hear, 
 While  the  untrodden  wilderness  trembles  with  fear ; 
 O'er  the  high-tossing  billows  unseen  is  his  way  j 
 Him  the  floods,  and  the  flames,  and  the  whirlwinds  obey. 
 
 He  spreads  o'er  his  people  the  wings  of  his  love, 
 And  gives  them  the  peace  which  descends  from  above  : 
 Then  give  him  the  glory  and  praise  evermore, 
 And  join  with  all  nature  his  name  to  adore. 
 
60  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 GOODNESS    OF    GOD. 
 
 /^OD,  thou  art  good  !  each  perfumed  flower, 
 
 The  waving  field,  the  dark  green  wood, 
 The  insect  fluttering  for  an  hour,  — 
 All  things  proclaim  that  God  is  good. 
 
 I  hear  it  in  each  breath  of  wind ; 
 
 The  hills  that  have  for  ages  stood, 
 And  clouds,  with  gold  and  silver  lined, 
 
 All  still  repeat  that  God  is  good. 
 
 Each  little  rill,  that  many  a  year 
 
 Has  the  same  verdant  path  pursued, 
 
 And  every  bird,  in  accents  clear, 
 Joins  in  the  song  that  God  is  good. 
 
 The  restless  sea,  with  haughty  roar, 
 Calms  each  wild  wave  and  billow  rude, 
 
 Retreats  submissive  from  the  shore, 
 And  swells'  the  chorus,  "  God  is  good." 
 
 The  countless  hosts  of  twinkling  stars, 
 That  sing  his  praise  with  light  renewed  ; 
 
 The  rising  sun  each  day  declares, 
 In  rays  of  glory,  God  is  good. 
 
 The  moon,  that  walks  in  brightness,  says 
 That  God  is  good  !  and  man,  endued 
 
 With  power  to  speak  his  Maker's  praise, 
 Should  still  repeat  that  God  is  good. 
 
 "THY    WILL    BE    DONE." 
 
 "  Christian  Disciple,"  Sept.  1818. 
 
 "LTOW  sweet  to  be  allowed  to  pray 
 11     To  God,  the  Holy  One  ; 
 With  filial  love  and  trust  to  say, 
 Father,  thy  will  be  done  ! 
 
SARAH   IT.  LIVERMORE.  6 1 
 
 We  in  these  sacred  words  can  find 
 
 A  cure  for  every  ill  ; 
 They  calm  and  soothe  the  troubled  mind, 
 
 And  bid  all  care  be  still. 
 
 Oh,  let  that  will,  which  gave  me  breath 
 
 And  an  immortal  soul, 
 In  joy  or  grief,  in  life  or  death, 
 
 My  every  wish  control  ! 
 
 Oh,  could  my  heart  thus  ever  pray, 
 
 Thus  imitate  thy  Son  ! 
 Teach  me,  O  God,  with  truth  to  say : 
 "  Thy  will,  not  mine,  be  done." 
 
 SARAH    W.    LIVERMORE. 
 (1789-1874) 
 
 Sarah  White  Livermore  was  born  in  Wilton,  N.H.,  July  20,  1789, 
 and  was  the  daughter  of  Rev.  Jonathan  Livermore,  who  was  settled  as  the 
 first  minister  of  that  town,  Dec.  14,  1763.  Having  faithfully  improved 
 the  limited  advantages  of  her  early  life,  she  became,  while  still  young,  a 
 very  successful  teacher  of  common  schools.  About  the  year  1843,  sne 
 established  a  self-supporting  boarding-school  at  the  Livermore  Mansion 
 in  Wilton.  After  a  few  years,  however,  she  was  obliged  to  relinquish 
 the  care  of  it  on  account  of  ill-health.  Her  interest  in  the  welfare  of 
 children  manifested  itself  in  efforts  for  their  religious  as  well  as  their 
 secular  instruction.  She  was  greatly  instrumental  in  establishing,  in  her 
 native  town,  one  of  the  first  Sunday-schools  in  the  country.  It  was  in 
 successful  operation  as  long  ago  as  1816, — the  year  when,  as  we  are 
 told  by  Mr.  Lewis  G.  Pray,  in  his  "  History  of  Sunday-Schools,"  these 
 institutions  began  to  take  the  form  of  a  voluntary  and  improved  system. 
 
 Mi--  Livermore,  having  a  natural  talent  and  taste  for  poetic  composi- 
 tion, was  often  called  upon,  during  her  long  life,  to  write  verses  for  a 
 great  variety  of  occasions.  These  have  never  been  collected  and  pub- 
 lished, though  not  a  few  of  them  have  been  printed  for  use  in  connection 
 with  ordination  or  dedicatory  services,  or  commemorative  or  festive  cele- 
 brations. She  died  in  Wilton,  July  3,  1874,  having  nearly  completed 
 her  eighty-fifth  year.  Of  the  four  hymns  which  we  copy,  the  first  two 
 are,  one  or  both,  in  several  of  our  Collections,  and  are  here  taken  from 
 the  book  of  "Christian  Hymns,"  compiled  by  a  committee  of  the  Che- 
 shire Pastoral  Association.     The  other  two  are  not  so  well  known. 
 
62  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 THE    COMING    OF    CHRIST. 
 
 /^LORY  to  God,  and  peace  on  earth, 
 
 Was  once  by  angels  sung ; 
 Glad  tidings  of  a  Saviour's  birth 
 
 Through  plains  of  Bethlehem  rung.    * 
 
 He  came  to  make  the  feeble  strong, 
 
 To  heal  the  deaf  and  blind, 
 To  give  the  dumb  the  voice  of  song, 
 
 And  free  the  captive  mind. 
 
 He  came  the  light  of  life  to  show, 
 
 The  true  and  living  way  ; 
 Where  streams  of  joy  unceasing  flow, 
 
 And  lead  to  endless  day. 
 
 Glory  to  God  !  the  gospel's  sound 
 
 Our  churches  echo  still  ; 
 Spread  it,  O  Lord,  the  world  around, 
 
 And  with  its  spirit  fill. 
 
 Glory  to  God  !  our  hearts  acclaim  ; 
 
 Oh,  haste  the  happy  time, 
 When  songs  shall  sound  the  Saviour's  name 
 
 O'er  every  distant  clime  ! 
 
 THE    WESTERN    CHURCHES. 
 
 /^\UR  pilgrim  brethren  dwelling  far, — 
 ^     O  God  of  truth  and  love, 
 Light  thou  their  path  with  thine  own  star, 
 Bright  beaming  from  above. 
 
 i 
 
SARAH   IV.   LI  VERM  ORE.  63 
 
 Wide  as  their  mighty  rivers  flow, 
 
 Let  thine  own  truth  extend  ; 
 Where  prairies  spread  and  forests  grow, 
 
 O  Lord,  thy  gospel  send  ! 
 
 Then  will  a  mighty  nation  own 
 
 A  union  firm  and  strong; 
 The  sceptre  of  the  eternal  throne 
 
 Shall  rule  its  councils  long. 
 
 The  following  hymn  was  written  by  Miss  Livermore  for  the  ordina- 
 tion of  her  nephew,  Rev.  A.  A.  Livermore  (now  President  of  the  Theo- 
 logical School,  Meadville,  Pa.),  at  Keene,  N.H.,  Nov.  2,  1836:  — 
 
 HYMN    FOR    ORDINATION. 
 
 A  WAKE,  O  church !  thy  strength  put  on  ; 
 In  holy  garments  be  thou  clad ; 
 We  come,  thou  High  and  Holy  One, 
 With  songs  of  praise  and  voices  glad. 
 
 As  followers  of  thy  Son,  we  bow 
 
 Before  thy  throne  in  fervent  prayer  ; 
 
 Thy  gracious  presence  grant  us  now, 
 And  be  this  flock  thy  constant  care. 
 
 To  him,  who  in  the  bloom  of  youth 
 Comes  with  desire  to  do  thy  will, 
 
 Oh.  grant  thy  spirit  and  thy  truth, 
 And  be  his  guide  and  guardian  still. 
 
 Oh,  may  the  gospel's  gracious  call 
 Greet  with  kind  accents  every  ear ; 
 
 Its  precepts  be  a  guide  to  all,  — 
 
 To  him  who  speaks  and  those  who  hear. 
 
64  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 Here  may  the  hopeless  wanderer  come  ; 
 
 Here  may  the  weary  pilgrim  rest  ; 
 May  Penitence  here  find  a  home  ; 
 
 May  all  who  worship  here  be  blest. 
 
 Long  may  this  holy  union  last 
 In  harmony  and  Christian  love ; 
 
 And  when  the  day  of  life  is  past, 
 Oh,  take  us  to  thy  fold  above ! 
 
 FOR    THE    CHURCH    AT    WILTON. 
 
 A  LMIGHTY  Father,  condescend 
 
 To  hear  the  prayer  thy  suppliants  raise  ; 
 Thy  Spirit  on  us  kindly  send, 
 
 And  tune  our  hearts  to  songs  of  praise. 
 
 Oh,  fill  this  ancient  house  of  thine 
 
 With  those  who  seek  thy  grace  and  truth  ! 
 
 And  let  thy  mighty  power  divine 
 Support  the  aged,  guide  the  youth. 
 
 Those  blessed  truths  which,  e'en  of  old, 
 Christ  and  the  Twelve  were  sent  to  teach, 
 
 We  still  with  grateful  ardor  hold,  — 
 These  may  thy  servant  ever  preach. 
 
 Oh,  may  the  light  which  Christ  hath  shed 
 
 On  ruined  s'ouls  with  life  arise  ; 
 Salvation  o'er  the  nations  spread, 
 
 And  a  new  Eden  bless  our  eyes. 
 
 CHARLES    SPRAGUE. 
 
 079I-) 
 
 Charl'f.s  Spraguf,  who  is  still  living  in  Boston,  was  born  in  that  city, 
 Oct.  25,  1791,  and  received  his  education  in  her  public  schools.  His 
 father  was  one  of  those  who,  in  resistance  to  British  taxation,  threw 
 overboard  the  tea  in  Boston  Harbor,  in  1773.  The  son,  at  the  age  of 
 thirteen,  became  a  clerk  in  a  mercantile  house,  and  subsequently  a  part- 
 
CHARLES  SPRAGUE.  65 
 
 ncr  with  his  employers.  In  1S20  he  was  appointed  teller  in  the  State 
 Bank,  and  in  1S25  cashier  of  the  Globe  Hank,  in  which  position  he 
 continued  until  a  few  years  ago,  when  advancing  years  obliged  him  to 
 surrender  the  trust. 
 
 During  his  life  he  has  cultivated  his  taste  for  poetry  with  great  suc- 
 cess ;  and  his  own  published  productions,  in  this  as  well  as  in  other 
 departments  of  literature,  have  given  him  a  high  rank  among  American 
 authors.  He  first  came  to  be  well  known  as  a  poet  by  successfully  con- 
 tending for  the  prize  offered  for  the  best  Prologue  at  the  opening  of  the 
 Park  Theatre,  in  Xew  York,  in  1821.  He  won  similar  honors  at  Philadel- 
 phia, in  1S22  ;  at  Boston,  in  1S23 ;  at  Philadelphia  and  at  Salem,  in  1828  ; 
 and  at  Portsmouth,  in  1S30.  The  longest  of  his  poems,  entitled  "Curi- 
 osity," was  read  before  the  Phi  Beta  Kappa  Society,  at  Cambridge,  in 
 1829,  and  was  published  some  years  afterward,  in  Calcutta,  by  a  British 
 officer,  as  a  production  of  his  own,  with  only  certain  slight  alterations 
 from  the  original  text.  A  collection  of  Mr.  Sprague's  poems  appeared 
 from  the  press  in  1841.  A  revised  and  enlarged  edition  was  issued,  in 
 1850,  by  Ticknor,  Reed,  &  Fields,  the  volume  including  also  an  oration 
 which  the  author  delivered  in  Boston,  July  4,  1825,  and  an  address  which 
 he  gave,  in  1S27,  before  the  Massachusetts  Society  for  the  Suppression 
 of  the  Evils  of  Intemperance.  "The  book,"  says  the  "Christian 
 Examiner"  for  May,  1S51,  "is  so  full  of  delicate  skill  and  the  truest 
 feeling,  that  it  will  always  be  in  demand,  and  live  an  affectionate  kind 
 of  life  in  the  old  country,  as  weil  as  in  our  own."  From  this  later 
 edition  we  cull  a  few  of  the  pieces  most  suitable  to  our  present 
 purpose. 
 
 DEDICATION    HYMN. 
 
 ClOD  of  Wisdom,  God  of  Might  ! 
 Father  !  dearest  name  of  all, 
 Bow  thy  throne,  and  bless  our  rite  j 
 
 'Tis  thy  children  on  thee  call. 
 Glorious  One  !  look  down  from  heaven, 
 
 Warm  each  heart  and  wake  each  vow 
 Unto  thee  this  house  is  given, 
 
 With  thy  presence  fill  it  now. 
 
 Fill  it  now  !  on  every  soul 
 
 Shed  the  incense  of  thy  grace  ; 
 
 While  our  anthem  echoes  roll 
 Round  the  consecrated  place, 
 
 5 
 
66  SOA7GS    OF  THE  LIBERAL   FAITH. 
 
 While  thy. holy  page  we  read, 
 
 While  the  prayers  thou  lov'st  ascend, 
 
 While  thy  cause  thy  servants  plead, 
 Fill  this  house,  our  God,  our  Friend  ! 
 
 Fill  it  now,  —  oh,  fill  it  long  ! 
 
 So,  when  death  shall  call  us  home, 
 Still  to  thee,  in  many  a  throng, 
 
 May  our  children's  children  come. 
 Bless  them,  Father,  long  and  late  ; 
 
 Blot  their  sins,  their  sorrows  dry  ; 
 Make  this  place  to  them  the  gate, 
 
 Leading  to  thy  courts  on  high. 
 
 There,  when  time  shall  be  no  more, 
 
 When  the  feuds  of  earth  are  past, 
 May  the  tribes  of  every  shore 
 
 Congregate  in  peace  at  last ! 
 Then  to  thee,  thou  One  all-wise, 
 
 Shall  the  gathered  millions  sing, 
 Till  the  arches  of  the  skies 
 
 With  their  hallelujahs  ring. 
 
 ORDINATION    HYMN. 
 
 ^\UR  fathers,  Lord,  to  seek  a  spot, 
 ^^^     Where  they  might  kneel  to  thee, 
 Their  own  fair  heritage  forgot, 
 And  braved  an  unknown  sea. 
 
 Here  found  their  pilgrim  souls  repose, 
 Where  long  the  heathen  roved  ; 
 
 And  here  their  humble  anthems  rose, 
 To  bless  the  Power  they  loved. 
 
CHARLES  SPRAGUE.  67 
 
 They  sleep  in  dust  j  but  where  they  trod, 
 
 A  feeble,  fainting  band, 
 Glad  millions  catch  the  strain,  O  God, 
 
 And  sound  it  through  the  land. 
 
 Come,  Lord,  to  this  new  temple  now, 
 
 Thy  servant  here  behold  ; 
 In  thy  dread  name  he  breathes  his  vow, 
 
 To  guard  this  little  fold. 
 
 Long  may  he  stand  thy  herald  here, 
 
 Thy  lessons  to  impart ; 
 From  every  eye  to  wipe  the  tear, 
 
 The  stain  from  every  heart ; 
 
 In  paths  of  peace  to  bid  them  tread, 
 
 Where  no  vain  feuds  arise, 
 And  from  his  life  a  lustre  shed, 
 
 To  light  them  to  the  skies. 
 
 So,  when  the  last  long  night  shall  go, 
 
 The  glad,  glad  morning  break, 
 When  all  that  walked  in  truth  below 
 
 In  joy  above  shall  wake, 
 
 There  may  thy  servant,  Lord,  be  found, 
 
 The  chosen  of  thy  Son, 
 And  hear  from  him  the  glorious  sound, 
 
 "  Well  done,  beloved  one  !  " 
 
 INSTALLATION   HYMN. 
 
 Written  for  the   installation   of  Rev.   M.    I.    Motte  over  the   South   Congregational 
 Society,  Boston,  May  21,  1828. 
 
 'T^HOU  lofty  One  !  whose  name  is  Love, 
 
 Whose  praise  all  nations  swell, 
 Bend  from  thy  glorious  throne  above, 
 And  in  this  temple  dwell. 
 
68  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 Father,  'tis  thine,  this  sacred  hour  ; 
 
 Thine  let  its  spirit  be  ; 
 And  while  each  tongue  proclaims  thy  power, 
 
 Oh,  turn  each  heart  to  thee. 
 
 Bless  him,  thy  servant ;  bid  him  here 
 
 Thy  faithful  shepherd  stand, 
 To  fold  for  thee,  through  many  a  year, 
 
 This  little  gathering  band. 
 
 Bless  him  with  grace  their  steps  to  lead, 
 
 Where  no  dark  tests  divide, 
 To  make  the  name  of  Christ  their  creed, 
 
 His  life  and  law  their  guide. 
 
 Bless  them,  thy  children,  — them  and  theirs,  - 
 
 In  all  their  ways  below  ; 
 Be  with  them,  Father,  in  their  prayers, 
 
 And  with  them  in  their  woe. 
 
 Be  with  them  when  they  come  to  die, 
 And  make  the  summons  blest ; 
 
 Then,  in  a  better  world  on  high, 
 Receive  them  to  thy  rest. 
 
 CHILDREN'S    HYMN. 
 
 f~\  THOU,  at  whose  dread  name  we  bend, 
 
 To  whom  our  purest  vows  we  pay, 
 God  over  all !  in  love  descend, 
 And  bless  the  labors  of  this  day. 
 
 Our  fathers  here,  a  pilgrim  band, 
 Fixed  the  proud  empire  of  the  free  ; 
 
 Art  moved  in  gladness  o'er  the  land, 
 And  Faith  her  altars  reared  to  thee. 
 
CHARLES  SPRAGUE.  69 
 
 Here,  too,  to  guard,  through  every  age, 
 
 The  sacred  rights  their  valor  won, 
 They  bade  Instruction  spread  her  page, 
 
 And  send  down  truth  from  sire  to  son. 
 
 Here,  still  through  all  succeeding  time, 
 
 Their  stores  may  Worth  and  Wisdom  bring, 
 
 And  still  the  anthem-notes  sublime 
 To  thee  from  children's  children  ring. 
 
 DEATH    OF   AN    INFANT. 
 
 /^NE  little  bud  adorned  my  bower, 
 ^^^     And  shed  sweet  fragrance  round  ; 
 It  grew  in  beauty,  hour  by  hour, 
 Till,  ah  !  the  Spoiler  came  in  power, 
 And  crushed  it  to  the  ground. 
 
 Yet  not  for  ever  in  the  dust 
 
 That  beauteous  bud  shall  lie  ; 
 No  !  in  the  garden  of  the  just, 
 Beneath  God's  glorious  eye,  we  trust, 
 'Twill  bloom  again  on  high. 
 
 MOUNT   AUBURN. 
 
 "  There  was  a  garden,  and  in  the  garden  a  new  sepulchre." 
 
 T17HAT  myriads  throng,  in  proud  array, 
 
 With  songs  of  joy,  and  flags  unfurled, 
 To  consecrate  the  glorious  day 
 That  gave  a  nation  to  the  world. 
 
 We  raise  no  shout,  no  trumpet  sound, 
 No  banner  to  the  breeze  we  spread  ; 
 
 Children  of  clay  !  bend  humbly  round  ; 
 We  plant  a  city  to  the  dead. 
 
70  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 For  man  a  garden  rose  in  bloom, 
 When  yon  glad  sun  began  to  burn ; 
 
 He  fell,  and  heard  the  awful  doom, 
 "  Of  dust  thou  art,  to  dust  return  !  " 
 
 But  He,  in  whose  pure  faith  we  come, 
 Who  in  a  gloomier  garden  lay, 
 
 Assured  us  of  a  brighter  home, 
 
 And  rose,  and  led  the  glorious  way. 
 
 His  word  we  trust !  when  life  shall  end, 
 Here  be  our  long,  long  slumber  passed  ; 
 
 To  the  first  garden's  doom  we  bend, 
 And  bless  the  promise  of  the  last. 
 
 THE    BROTHERS. 
 
 T17E  are  but  two,  —  the  others  sleep 
 
 Through  death's  untroubled  night ; 
 We  are  but  two,  —  oh,  let  us  keep 
 The  link  that  binds  us  bright ! 
 
 Heart  leaps  to  heart,  —  the  sacred  flood 
 
 That  warms  us  is  the  same ; 
 That  good  old  man,  —  his  honest  blood 
 
 Alike  we  fondly  claim. 
 
 We  in  one  mother's  arms  were  locked,  — 
 
 Long  be  her  love  repaid  j 
 In  the  same  cradle  we  were  rocked, 
 
 Round  the  same  hearth  we  played. 
 
 Our  boyish  sports  were  all  the  same, 
 
 Each  little  joy  and  woe  : 
 Let  manhood  keep  alive  the  flame, 
 
 Lit  up  so  long  ago. 
 
 We  are  but  two,  —  be  that  the  band 
 
 To  hold  us  till  we  die ; 
 Shoulder  to  shoulder  let  us  stand, 
 
 Till  side  by  side  we  lie. 
 
CHARLES  SPRAGUE.  71 
 
 THE    WINGED    WORSHIPPERS. 
 
 Addressed  to  two  swallows  thai  flew  into  Chauncy  Place  Church  during  divine  service. 
 —  A  very  interesting  account  of  this  poem,  given  by  Mr.  Sprague  himself,  may  be  found 
 in  the  "Monthly  Magazine,''  for  May,  1S70. 
 
 /^*AY,  guiltless  pair, 
 
 What  seek  ye  from  the  fields  of  heaven  ? 
 Ye  have  no  need  of  prayer, 
 Ye  have  no  sins  to  be  forgiven. 
 
 Why  perch  ye  here 
 Where  mortals  to  their  Maker  bend  ? 
 
 Can  your  pure  spirits  fear 
 The  God  ye  never  could  offend  ? 
 
 Ye  never  knew 
 The  crimes  for  which  we  come  to  weep. 
 
 Penance  is  not  for  you, 
 Blessed  wanderers  of  the  upper  deep. 
 
 To  you  'tis  given 
 To  make  sweet  Nature's  untaught  lays  ; 
 
 Beneath  the  arch  of  heaven 
 To  chirp  away  a  life  of  praise. 
 
 Then  spread  each  wing 
 Far,  far  above  o'er  lakes  and  lands, 
 
 And  join  the  choirs  that  sing 
 In  that  blue  dome  not  reared  with  hands. 
 
 Or,  if  ye  stay, 
 To  note  the  consecrated  hour, 
 
 Teach  me  the  airy  way, 
 And  let  me  try  your  envied  power. 
 
72  SONGS   OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 Above  the  crowd, 
 On  upward  wings  could  I  but  fly, 
 
 I'd  bathe  in  yon  bright  cloud, 
 And  seek  the  stars  that  gem  the  sky. 
 
 'Twere  heaven  indeed 
 Through  fields  of  trackless  light  to  soar, 
 
 On  Nature's  charms  to  feed, 
 And  Nature's  own'  great  God  adore. 
 
 SAMUEL    GILMAN. 
 (1791-1858.) 
 
 Rev.  Samuel  Gilman,  D.D.,  son  of  Frederick  and  Abigail  H.  (Somes) 
 Gilman,  was  born  in  Gloucester,  Mass.,  Feb.  16,  1791.  In  his  early 
 youth  he  attended  school  for  some  time  at  the  Academy  in  Atkinson, 
 N.H.,  and  was  subsequently  a  clerk  in  the  Essex  Bank,  Salem.  He 
 graduated,  with  distinction,  at  Harvard  College,  in  181 1 ;  was  tutor  for 
 two  years  at  Cambridge,  in  Mathematics ;  studied  Theology  under  Drs. 
 Ware  and  Kirkland,  and  was  ordained,  Dec.  1,  1819,  pastor  of  the  Uni- 
 tarian Church  in  Charleston,  S.C.  On  the  14th  October,  1819,  he  was 
 married  to  Caroline  Howard,  daughter  of  Samuel  Howard,  Esq.,  of 
 Boston,  and  a  lady  of  much  literary  talent  and  distinction.  This  union 
 of  pastor  and  people,  and  of  husband  and  wife,  continued  unbroken 
 until  Feb.  9,  1858,  when  Dr.  Gilman  died  at  Kingston,  Mass.,  while  on  a 
 visit  to  the  family  of  his  son-in-law,  Rev.  C.  J.  Bowen.  During  his  long 
 ministry  at  the  South,  this  eminent  and  saintly  man  was  not  only  dis- 
 tinguished for  his  able  pulpit  ministrations  and  faithful  parochial  labors, 
 but  was  greatly  esteemed  for  his  active  interest  in  the  cause  of  Temper- 
 ance, for  his  successful  pursuit  of  Literature,  and  for  the  zeal  which  he 
 awakened  in  others  for  the  general  welfare  of  the  community.  His  death 
 was  regarded  as  a  public  calamity  ;  and  his  funeral  obsequies  at  Charles- 
 ton witnessed  to  the  universal  sorrow  of  the  people  among  whom  he 
 had  spent  so  many  of  his  years. 
 
 His  literary  productions  were  numerous  and  of  rare  merit.  A  poem 
 which  he  delivered  when  he  graduated,  in  181 1,  elicited  much  applause. 
 It  was  repeated,  with  a  "sequel,"  in  1852,  at  the  residence  of  Hon. 
 Edward  Everett,  in  Boston,  whither  the  class  had  been  invited  to  cele- 
 brate their  forty-first  anniversary.  The  longest  of  his  poems  was  one 
 on  "  Human  Life,"  which  he  read  before  the  Phi  Beta  Kappa  Society  at 
 
SAMUEL   GILMAN.  73 
 
 Cambridge,  in  1S15.  Another,  on  a  "History  of  a  Ray  of  Light,"  was 
 first  published  in  an  annual  entitled  "  The  Atlantic  Souvenir,"  In  1822. 
 He  became  a  frequent  and  welcome  contributor  to  the  North  American 
 Review,  the  Christian  Examiner,  and  the  Southern  Quarterly.  Among 
 his  tine  papers  and  essays  were  a  series  on  the  lectures  of  Dr.  Thomas 
 brown,  one  on  the  writings  of  Mr.  Everett,  and  another  on  "The  Influ- 
 ence of  One  National  Literature  upon  Another."  In  1829  he  published 
 his  "  Memoirs  of  a  New  England  Village  Choir,"  of  which  three  editions 
 were  issued.  In  1S37  he  received  his  degree  of  D.D.  from  Harvard 
 College.  In  1856  appeared  his  "Contributions  to  Literature,  Descrip- 
 tive, Critical,  Humorous,  Biographical,  Philosophical,  and  Poetical." 
 In  this  volume  are  included  his  "Memoirs  of  a  New  England  Village 
 Choir,"  some  of  his  magazine  articles,  and  the  more  important  of  his 
 poetic  compositions.  Here  and  in  various  Collections  are  a  number  of 
 excellent  hymns,  some  of  which  are  very  familiar  to  many  congregations. 
 The  first  of  the  five  which  we  here  give  is  a  translation  from  the  Ger- 
 man, with  two  stanzas  omitted  ;  the  others  are  Dr.  Gilman's  own. 
 
 HYMN    FOR   BAPTISM. 
 
 HP  HIS  child  we  dedicate  to  thee, 
 
 O  God  of  grace  and  purity ! 
 Shield  it  from  sin  and  threatening  wrong, 
 And  let  thy  love  its  life  prolong. 
 
 Oh,  may  thy  Spirit  gently  draw 
 Its  willing  soul  to  keep  thy  law ; 
 May  virtue,  piety,  and  truth 
 Dawn  even  with  its  dawning  youth. 
 
 We,  too,  before  thy  gracious  sight, 
 Once  shared  the  blest  baptismal  rite, 
 And  would  renew  its  solemn  vow 
 With  love,  and  thanks,  and  praises  now. 
 
 Grant  that,  with  true  and  faithful  heart, 
 We  still  may  act  the  Christian's  part, 
 Cheered  by  each  promise  thou  hast  given, 
 And  laboring  for  the  prize  in  heaven. 
 
74  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 COMMUNION    HYMNS. 
 
 "VHES,  to  the  last  command 
 
 We  will  obedient  prove  ; 
 Around  his  table  will  we  stand, 
 In  memory  of  his  love. 
 
 His  precious  blood  he  shed 
 
 For  our  unworthy  race, 
 While  uttering,  in  the  Almighty's  stead, 
 
 His  messages  of  grace. 
 
 Oh,  if  our  senseless  pride 
 
 His  dying  words  neglect, 
 Tis  we  who  pierce  his  sacred  side, 
 
 And  we  who  God  reject ! 
 
 Then  let  us  ever  keep 
 
 This  consecrated  feast, 
 Till  memory  shall  have  sunk  to  sleep, 
 
 Or  life  itself  have  ceased. 
 
 (~\  GOD  !  accept  the  sacred  hour 
 ^^^     Which  we  to  thee  have  given  ; 
 And  let  this  hallowed  scene  have  power 
 To  raise  our  souls  to  heaven. 
 
 Still  let  us  hold,  till  life  departs, 
 
 The  precepts  of  thy  Son, 
 Nor  let  our  thoughtless,  thankless  hearts 
 
 Forget  what  he  has  done. 
 
SAMUEL   G/LA/AJV.  75 
 
 His  true  disciples  may  we  live, 
 
 From  all  corruption  free, 
 And  humbly  learn  like  him  to  give 
 
 Our  powers,  our  wills,  to  thee. 
 
 And  oft  along  life's  dangerous  way, 
 
 To  smooth  our  passage  through, 
 Wilt  thou  on  this  thy  holy  day 
 
 For  us  this  scene  renew. 
 
 T17E  sing  thy  mercy,  God  of  love  ! 
 
 That  sent  the  Saviour  from  above 
 To  free  our  race  from  sin  and  woe, 
 And  spread  thy  peace  and  truth  below. 
 
 We  thank  thee  for  the  words  he  brought ; 
 We  thank  thee  that  he  lived,  and  taught 
 Frail  and  imperfect  man,  to  be 
 In  humble  mode,  resembling  thee. 
 
 We  thank  thee  for  thy  gracious  care 
 Which  kept  those  sacred  pages  fair 
 Through  every  age,  whose  lines  record 
 The  deeds  and  precepts  of  our  Lord. 
 
 We  thank  thee  for  this  solemn  rite, 
 By  us  repeated  in  thy  sight  j 
 Oh,  fill  our  souls  with  bread  divine, 
 And  nourish  us  with  heavenly  wine  ! 
 
 HYMN    FOR    AN    ORDINATION. 
 
 Written  for  the  ordination  of  Mr.  Charles  J.  Bowen  to  the  ministry,  at  Newburyport, 
 Nov.  20,  1850. 
 
 "CWTHER  !  thy  rich  spirit  shed 
 
 On  this  youthful  suppliant's  head  ; 
 Soothe  his  self-distrusting  tears  ; 
 Temper  his  abounding  fears  \ 
 
76  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 Guide  his  vast  and  high  desire ; 
 Touch  his  lips  with  coals  of  fire ; 
 Pour  thy  truth  upon  his  soul, 
 O'er  the  thirsting  church  to  roll. 
 
 In  thy  vineyard  called  to  toil, 
 Wisely  may  he  search  the  soil  \ 
 Sinners  may  he  love  to  win, 
 Whilst  he  hates  and  brands  the  sin. 
 Give  him  boldness  for  the  right, 
 Give  him  meekness  for  the  fight ; 
 Teach  him  zeal  and  care  to  blend  \ 
 Give  him  patience  to  the  end. 
 
 Seal,  this  day,  the  vows  that  hold 
 Flock  and  shepherd  in  one  fold  j 
 May  he  well  those  mandates  keep, 
 Feed  my  lambs,  and,  Feed  my  sheep. 
 Bless  his  home,  his  watch-tower  bless  ; 
 Guide  him  with  thy  gentleness 
 In  the  path  once  taught  and  trod 
 By  the  enduring  Son  of  God. 
 
 Grant  him,  in  his  charge,  to  find 
 Listening  ear  and  fervent  mind, 
 Helpful  counsels,  deepening  peace, 
 Earnest  life  and  glad  increase. 
 May  they,  by  "each  other  led, 
 Grow  to  one  in  Christ  their  head ; 
 And,  at  last,  together  be 
 Ripe  for  ^heaven  and  meet  for  thee  ! 
 
 CAROLINE    GILMAN. 
 
 (i794.) 
 
 Mrs.  Caroline  Gilman,  daughter  of  Samuel  Howard,  Esq.,  and  wife 
 of  Rev.  Samuel  Gilman,  D.D.,  was  born  in  Boston,  Oct.  8,  1794.  Hav- 
 ing passed  her  school  days  at  Concord,  Cambridge,  and  other  towns  in 
 her  native  State,  she  accompanied  her  husband,  soon  after  their  mar- 
 
CAROLINE  GILMAN.  77 
 
 riage,  in  1S19,  to  the  future  scene  of  his  ministerial  labors,  at  Charles- 
 ton, S.C.  Since  Dr.  Gilman's  death,  she  has  resided  at  Charleston 
 and  Cambridge,  and  is  now  living  at  Tiverton,  R.I.,  with  her  daughter, 
 Mrs.  Charles  J.  Bowen,  and  other  members  of  the  family  circle. 
 
 She  began  to  write  poems  and  stories  at  a  very  early  age.  Her  well- 
 known  lines  "  On  the  Raising  of  Jairus'  Daughter  "  appeared  in  the 
 "North  American  Review"  as  long  ago  as  1817.  In  1832  she  began  to 
 edit,  at  Charleston,  a  juvenile  weekly  paper,  which  she  named  "  The 
 Rosebud,"  and  which  afterward  took  the  title  of  "The  Southern  Rose." 
 She  contributed  to  it  most  of  the  verses,  tales,  and  novels,  which  were 
 subsequently  published  in  volumes.  "  Recollections  of  a  Northern 
 Housekeeper"  originally  appeared  in  "The  Rosebud,"  in  1834;  and 
 "Recollections  of  a  Southern  Matron"  in  "The  Southern  Rose,"  in 
 1835  and  1836.  These,  with  "Ruth  Raymond,  or  Love's  Progress,"  and 
 others  of  her  popular  works,  passed  through  many  editions,  and  were 
 much  admired  for  "  their  practical  lessons  as  well  as  their  genial  sim- 
 plicity and  humor."  She  was  the  author,  for  several  years,  of  the 
 "  Lady's  Annual  Register  and  Almanac,"  and  wrote  also  a  book  en- 
 titled "  The  Poetry  of  Travelling  in  the  United  States."  Her  "  Verses 
 of  a  Lifetime  "  she  gave  to  the  press  in  1S49,  anc*  published  her  "  Oracles 
 from  the  Poets"  in  1854,  and,  still  later,  "The  Sibyl,  or  New  Oracles 
 from  the  Poets,"  the  latter  "  consisting  of  passages  of  verse  ingeniously 
 arranged  to  correspond  to  numbers  which  are  to  be  taken  at  random." 
 
 Not  to  mention  in  detail  a  variety  of  other  volumes  of  tales,  ballads, 
 &c,  which  she  has  written,  it  may  be  added  that,  in  1872,  she  and  her 
 daughter,  Mrs.  Caroline  H.  Jervey,  published  a  small  book  of  "  Stories 
 and  Poems  "  for  children,  for  whom  Mrs.  Gilman,  all  through  her  life, 
 has  rendered  a  most  delightful  literary  service.  Mrs.  Jervey  is  also 
 an  authoress  of  no  little  merit,  as  her  "  Poetry  and  Prose  for  the  Young," 
 1856,  her  story  "Vernon  Grove,"  1859,  and  her  "Hannah  Courtenay," 
 1866,  give  ample  proof. 
 
 The  talented  and  accomplished  lady  who  is  the  subject  of  this  sketch, 
 as  she  shared  with  her  husband  the  toils  and  satisfactions  of  his  long  and 
 beautiful  ministry  at  Charleston,  shared  with  him  also  the  gift  of  song  ; 
 and  several  of  her  fine,  lovely  hymns  have,  like  his,  lent  their  aid  to  the 
 service  of  praise. 
 
 The  fifth  verse  of  the  following  favorite  hymn  is  less  familiar  to  our 
 congregations  than  the  four  which  precede  it,  having  been  added  to  the 
 others  by  the  writer  herself  for  the  book  of  "Services  and  Hymns,"  pub- 
 lished in  1867,  for  the  church  at  Charleston.  The  same  may  be  said  of 
 the  hymn  which  immediately  succeeds  this  one.  Both  thus  came  to  be  a 
 fuller  expression  of  her  Christian  faith.  We  copy  them  from  the  Charles- 
 ton Collection.  They  originally  appeared  in  183S,  in  the  "  Lady's  Annual 
 Register." 
 
7%  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 SABBATH    DAY. 
 
 V\7"E  bless  thee  for  this  sacred  day, 
 
 Thou  who  hast  every  blessing  given, 
 Which  sends  the  dreams  of  earth  away, 
 And  yields  a  glimpse  of  opening  heaven. 
 
 Rich  day  of  holy,  thoughtful  rest, 
 May  we  improve  thy  calm  repose ; 
 
 And,  in  God's  service  truly  blest, 
 Forget  the  world,  its  joys  and  woes. 
 
 Lord,  may  thy  truth  upon  the  heart 
 Here  fall  and  dwell  as  heavenly  dew, 
 
 And  flowers  of  grace  and  freshness  start, 
 Where  once  the  weeds  of  error  grew. 
 
 May  Prayer  now  lift  her  sacred  wings, 
 
 Contented  with  that  aim  alone 
 Which  bears  her  to  the  King  of  kings, 
 
 And  rests  her  at  his  sheltering  throne. 
 
 And  ever,  on  this  sacred  day, 
 
 May  we  remember  Him  who  taught, 
 
 Though  heaven  and  earth  should  pass  away, 
 The  Sabbath's  holiest,  highest  thought. 
 
 As  an  illustration  of  the  general  favor  with  which  the  following  lines 
 have  been  regarded,  we  may  say  that  the  late  Judge  White,  of  Salem, 
 having,  in  his  constant  attendance  at  the  First  Church  in  that  city,  noted, 
 for  a  term  of  years,  all  the  hymns  which  had  been  given  out  by  different 
 ministers  to  be  sung,  was  curious  to  learn  which  one  had  been  most 
 frequently  used  during  that  time.     He  found  that  this  was  the  hymn  :  — 
 
 GOD    OUR    FATHER. 
 
 TS  there  a  lone  and  dreary  hour, 
 
 When  worldly  pleasures  lose  their  power  ? 
 My  Father  !  let  me  turn  to  thee, 
 And  set  each  thought  of  darkness  free. 
 
CAROLIXE  GfLMAN.  79 
 
 Is  there  a  time  of  "racking  grief, 
 Which  scorns  the  prospect  of  relief : 
 My  Father  I  break  the  cheerless  gloom 
 And  bid  my  heart  its  calm  resume. 
 
 Is  there  an  hour  of  peace  and  joy, 
 When  hope  is  all  my  soul's  employ : 
 My  Father  !  still  my  hopes,  will  roam, 
 Until  they  rest  with  thee,  their  home. 
 
 The  noontide  blaze,  the  midnight  scene, 
 The  dawn,  or  twilight's  sweet  serene, 
 The  glow  of  life,  the  dying  hour, 
 Shall  own  my  Father's  grace  and  power. 
 
 And  while  such  lofty  memories  roll 
 In  solemn  grandeur  o'er  my  soul, 
 May  Christ  be  with  me,  he  who  came 
 To  teach  "  Our  Father's  "  tender  name. 
 
 HYMN    FOR    A    CHILD. 
 
 Taken  from  Mrs.  Gilman's  little  volume,  entitled  "A  Gift  Book." 
 
 'T^HE  glorious  God  who  reigns  on  high, 
 
 Who  formed  the  earth  and  built  the  sky, 
 Stoops  from  his  throne  in  heaven  to  hear 
 A  little  infant's  prattling  prayer. 
 
 Father  of  all  !     My  Father  too  ! 
 Oh,  make  me  good  and  just  and  true ! 
 Make  me  delight  to  learn  thy  word, 
 And  love  to  pray,  and  praise  thee,  Lord. 
 
 Oh,  may  thy  gracious  presence  bless 
 And  guard  my  childhood's  helplessness ! 
 Be  with  me  as  I  grow  in  years, 
 And  guard  me  through  the  vale  of  tears. 
 
80  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 THE   VOICE    FROM    THE   CLOUD. 
 
 From  "  Verses  of  a  Life-timeP 
 
 "There  came  a  cloud,  and  overshadowed  them,  and  they  feared  as  they  entered  into 
 the  cloud.  And  there  came  a  voice  out  of  the  clond,  saying,  This  is  ray  beloved  Son  : 
 hear  him." 
 
 A    CLOUD  flits  o'er  the  youthful  brow, 
 
 And  griefs  first  shaclowings  veil  it  now ; 
 But  hark  !  within  its  misty  wreaths, 
 A  tone  of  heavenly  mercy  breathes, 
 "'Tis  my  beloved  Son  !  hear  him." 
 
 A  cloud  hangs  o'er  yon  manly  form, 
 While  buffeting  misfortune's  storm  : 
 A  wreck,  his  earthly  treasure  lies  ; 
 But  ah  !  a  voice  in  mercy  cries, 
 
 "  'Tis  my  beloved  Son  !  hear  him." 
 
 Wrapt  in  her  sorrowing  sable  veil, 
 Sits  the  young  widow,  sad  and  pale  ; 
 Dense  is  the  cloud  that  round  her  dwells, 
 But  hark  !  the  heavenly  chorus  swells, 
 "  'Tis  my  beloved  Son  !  hear  him." 
 
 A  cloud  is  on  the  sinner's  soul, 
 Deep,  deep  the  murky  volumes  roll : 
 He  gropes,  unaided  and  alone, 
 Until  he  hears  the  welcome  tone, 
 "  'Tis  my  beloved  Son  !  hear  him." 
 
 Above  the  graveyard's  grassy  breast, 
 Funeral  shadows  love  to  rest  ; 
 But  to  the  heart  well-taught  of  Heaven, 
 A  light  from  these  rich  words  is  given, 
 "  'Tis  my  beloved  Son  !  hear  him." 
 
 In  heaven  those  clouds  will  roll  away : 
 Unbroken  light,  unshadowed  day, 
 Shall  burst  upon  the  gazing  eye, 
 And  seraph  voices  raise  the  ciy, 
 
 "'Tis  God's  beloved  Son!  hear  him." 
 
LEWIS  G.   PRAY.  8 1 
 
 We  give  also  these  few  lines,  which  we  copy  from  the  "  Lady's  Annual 
 Register,"  of  1838,  where  not  less  than  twelve  of  Mrs.  Gilman's  poetical 
 
 pieces  may  be  found  :  — 
 
 THE    EARTH    IS    BEAUTIFUL. 
 
 n^HE  whole  broad  earth  is  beautiful  - 
 
 To  minds  attuned  aright, 
 And  wheresoe'er  my  feet  are  turned 
 
 A  smile  has  met  my  sight : 
 The  city  with  its  bustling  walk, 
 
 Its  splendor,  wealth,  and  power, 
 A  ramble  by  the  river-side, 
 
 A  passing  summer  flower, 
 The  meadow  green,  the  ocean's  swell, 
 
 The  forest  waving  free,  — 
 Are  gifts  of  God,  and  speak  in  tones 
 
 Of  kindliness  to  me. 
 And  oh  !  where'er  my  lot  is  cast, 
 
 Where'er  my  footsteps  roam, 
 If  those  I  love  are  near  to  me, 
 
 That  spot  is  still  my  home. 
 
 LEWIS    G.    PRAY. 
 (1793) 
 
 Lewis  Glover  Pray  was  born  in  Quincy,  Mass.,  Aug.  15, 1793,  anfl was 
 educated  at  the  public  schools  of  his  native  town.  Removing  to  Boston 
 in  1 80S,  he  served  for  some  years  as  an  apprentice  in  a  shoe-store,  and  in 
 181 5  entered  into  business  on  his  own  account.  In  1S23  he  was  married 
 to  Miss  Catherine  L.  Wright.  Retiring  from  business  in  1838,  he  has, 
 since  that  time,  during  his  continued  residence  in  his  adopted  city,  and 
 after  his  removal  to  Roxbury  (Boston  Highlands),  where  he  now  resides, 
 fulfilled  many  public  trusts,  and  occupied  himself  with  numerous  chari- 
 table, religious,  and  literary  labors.  As  early  as  182 1  he  served  as  a  mem- 
 ber of  the  Committee  which  reported  the  basis  of  the  Municipal  Charter 
 of  Boston,  and  in  later  years  was  a  member  of  the  City  Government, 
 the  Board  of    Education,  and  the  State  Legislature.     Mr.  Pray  deserves 
 
 6 
 
82  SONGS   OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 special  mention  for  his  services  in  the  cause  of  Sunday  Schools,  having 
 been  one  of  the  earliest  pioneers  and  most  steadfast  laborers  in  this 
 work  among  the  Liberal  Churches.  For  thirty-four  years,  from  1827  to 
 1861,  he  was  superintendent  of  the  Sunday  School  of  the  Twelfth  Con- 
 gregational Society  in  Boston,  being  also  for  the  same  period  an  officer 
 of  the  church.  In  1833  he  published  his  "  Sunday  School  Hymn  Book," 
 which  was  the  first  collection  of  the  kind  ever  prepared  for  use  in  Uni- 
 tarian Sunday  Schools,  in  connection  with  music.  To  meet  a  new  want, 
 he  published,  in  1844,  the  "  Sunday  School  Hymn  and  Service  Book," 
 which  was  a  much  altered  and  somewhat  enlarged  edition  of  the  other, 
 and  embraced  Scripture  Lessons,  and  forms  of  prayer  for  children's 
 worship.  In  1847  he  published  a  "  History  of  Sunday  Schools,"  and  in 
 1849  a  "Christian  Catechism."  For  many  years  he  was  treasurer  of  the 
 Sunday  School  Society,  and  also  its  agent  to  visit  and  address  Unitarian 
 Sunday  Schools,  far  and  near. 
 
 In  1862  he  printed  for  his  friends  a  volume  of  his  hymns  and  poems, 
 entitled  "  The  Sylphids'  School."  In  1863  ne  published  an  "  Historical 
 Sketch  of  the  Twelfth  Congregational  Society,  Boston  ; "  in  1867,  a 
 "Memoir  of  Rev.  S.  Barrett,  D.D.,"  long  the  honored  and  beloved 
 minister  of  the  church  just  mentioned,  and  friend  and  pastor  of  Mr. 
 Pray;  and  in  1873,  at  the  age  of  eighty,  an  additional  volume  of  hymns 
 and  poems,  under  the  title,  "Autumn  Leaves."  He  has  been  the  author 
 of  various  books  beside,  and  for  more  than  a  half  century  has  contributed 
 to  the  secular  and  religious  papers  and  magazines. 
 
 A  large  number  of  the  hymns  of  this  earnest  and  devoted  servant  of 
 the  Church  and  Sunday  School  first  appeared  in  his  own  compilations  of 
 1833  and  1844.  Some  of  them  have  passed  into  other  and  larger  Collec- 
 tions. The  first  four  of  those  which  we  give  below  are  taken  from  the 
 "  Sylphids'  School,"  one  of  them,  "  When  God  upheaved  the  pillared 
 earth,"  having  been  deemed  worthy  of  a  place  in  the  "Hymns  of  the 
 Ages."  The  other  two  of  those  which  we  copy  are  from  "Autumn 
 Leaves." 
 
 FOR  A   RURAL   EXCURSION. 
 
 Written  for  the  Rural  Excursion  of  the  Suffolk  Street  Sunday  School,  in  1843, 
 and  published  in  the  Sunday-school  Hymn  Book,  1844.  Several  stanzas  are  here 
 omitted. 
 
 r^OME  when  the  leaves  are  greenest, 
 
 Come  in  the  flush  of  light, 
 Come  when  the  air  is  sweetest, 
 
 Come  when  the  flowers  are  bright ; 
 For  God  has  made  in  beauty 
 
 The  world  in  which  we  live, 
 To  teach  us  of  our  duty, 
 
 To  know  him,  and  believe. 
 
LEWIS  G.  PRAY.  83 
 
 Oh  !  feel  that  God  is  speaking 
 
 In  every  breeze  that  blows, 
 In  hues  the  clouds  are  streaking, 
 
 In  every  stream  that  flows  ; 
 Oh !  hear  him  in  the  singing 
 
 That  swells  the  groves  among, 
 And  in  the  grateful  humming 
 
 Of  every  insect  throng. 
 
 Oh  !  see  him  in  the  mountain, 
 
 And  hear  him  in  the  rill  ; 
 Speaking  from  every  fountain, 
 
 And  vocal  in  the  hill. 
 The  planets,  in  their  rising, 
 
 Him  day  and  night  proclaim  ; 
 While  every  season,  changing, 
 
 Attests  his  glorious  name. 
 
 MONODY 
 On  the  Death  of  Israel  Alden  Putnam, 
 
 A  Teacher  of  the  Twelfth  Congregational  Sunday  School,  in  Boston,  and  graduate  of 
 the  Divinity  School,  Cambridge,  of  the  class  of  1848.  He  died  in  his  native  town,  Dan#- 
 vers,  Mass.,  Oct.  31,  1848. 
 
 TH\RY,  dry  up  those  tears, 
 
 Ye  friends,  sad  and  many : 
 
 Dismiss  all  thy  fears, 
 
 If  fears  ye  have  any ; 
 For  thy  classmate,  thy  teacher,  thy  brother,  thy  son, 
 Hath  left  us  a  pattern  of  life-work  well  done. 
 
 Gone,  gone  to  his  rest ! 
 
 The  young  how  they're  grieved  ! 
 
 The  good  feel  oppressed, 
 
 And  the  Church  is  bereaved  ; 
 For  their  teacher,  their  pastor,  their  brother,  their  son, 
 Was  an  angel  of  these  ;  and  his  work  was  well  done. 
 
 Stop,  stop  now  the  bier 
 That  beareth  the  form  : 
 
84  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH, 
 
 His  body  lay  here 
 
 For  the  earth  and  the  worm  ; 
 But  thy  classmate,  thy  teacher,  thy  brother,  thy  son, 
 Is  not  here,  but  is  risen ;  for  his  work  was  well  done. 
 
 Lay,  lay  en  the  sod 
 
 That  hideth  his  frame  ; 
 
 But,  remember,  his  God 
 
 Hath  written  the  name 
 Of  thy  classmate,  thy  teacher,  thy  brother,  thy  son, 
 In  the  Lamb's  Book  of  Life  ;  for  his  work  was  well  done. 
 
 Strong,  strong  is  the  grave 
 
 That  holdeth  his  dust, 
 
 But  stronger  to  save, 
 
 The  Arm  of  his  Trust ; 
 For  thy  classmate,  thy  teacher,  thy  brother,  thy  son, 
 Was  strong  in  the  faith  that  God's  will  should  be  done. 
 
 Now,  now,  not  alone, 
 
 But  with  myriads  bright, 
 
 He  stands  round  His  throne, 
 
 With  the  angels  of  light ; 
 Where  thy  classmate,  thy  teacher,  thy  brother,  thy  son, 
 Swells  gladly  the  chorus,  "  Let  God's  will  be  done  !  " 
 
 Thus,  thus  shouldst  thou  feel, 
 In  this  day  of  thy  grief  ; 
 And  to  Him  should'st  appeal, 
 Who  hath  promised  relief 
 „  To  pupil  or  parent,  to  brother  or  son, 
 Whose  prayer  at  His  altar  is,  "  Thy  will  be  done." 
 
 ORDINATION    HYMN. 
 
 For  the  ordination  of  Mr.  Alfred  P.  Putnam  as  pastor  of  the  Mount  Pleasant  Congre- 
 gational Church  and  Society,  Roxbury,  Dec.  19,  1855. 
 
 A  ROUND  thine  altar,  Lord,  this  day, 
 
 Thy  people  here  their  homage  pay  ; 
 Would  seek  thy  grace,  thy  love  review, 
 As  they  thy  mercies  taste  anew. 
 
LEWIS  G.    PRAY.  .  85 
 
 Lord,  thou  hast  sent  thy  servant  here  ; 
 His  purpose  let  thy  presence  cheer, 
 As,  bending  low  and  reverent,  he 
 Devotes  his  powers,  himself,  to  thee. 
 
 O  Father !  grant  him,  from  above, 
 Thine  aid  to  speak  the  truth  in  love  \ 
 So  may  his  words  like  dew  distil, 
 And  every  heart  with  blessings  fill. 
 
 Lord,  help  him,  when  Christ's  feast  is  spread, 
 To  break  with  holy  peace  its  bread ; 
 And  send  him  forth,  with  shepherd's  crook, 
 To  lead  the  lambs  by  Kedron's  brook. 
 
 As  varied  scenes  his  powers  shall  try, 
 
 Lord,  with  thine  aid  be  ever  nigh  ; 
 
 His  people's  love  a  cheering  light, 
 
 And  thou  his  strength  in  death's  dark  night. 
 
 SILENT   WORK. 
 
 So  that  there  was  neither  hammer  nor  axe,  nor  any  tool  of  iron,  heard  in  the  house, 
 while  it  was  building."  —  i  Kings  vi.  7. 
 
 TT7TIEN  God  upheaved  the  pillared  earth, 
 Hung  out  the  stars,  to  light  gave  birth, 
 Opened  its  deeps,  its  carpet  spread, 
 Twas  silence  all,  as  chaos  fled. 
 
 When  rose  the  fane  on  Zion's  hill, 
 A  work  of  matchless  power  and  skill, 
 No  axe  was  heard,  no  hammer  there  ; 
 But  all  was  still  as  summer  air. 
 
 Thus  laboring  through  life's  working  day, 
 In  gold  or  marble,  wood  or  clay, 
 Let  Art,  through  us,  its  empire  pure 
 By  quiet  toil  and  skill  secure. 
 
86  SGArGS   OF   THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 Thus  air  and  flame  shall  space  o'ercome, 
 And  bring  the  distant  near  to  home  ; 
 While  thought  in  channels  new  shall  flow, 
 And  round  the  world  in  silence  go. 
 
 Its  softening  light  shall  Science  lend, 
 And  Fancy  her  rich  tracery  blend, 
 New  beauty  o'er  each  work  be  cast, 
 And  still  the  fairest,  best,  the  last. 
 
 Great  God  !  thus  let  the  temple  rise 
 Whose  altar-stone  within  us  lies, 
 Silent  and  calm  with  skill  divine, 
 Till  light  immortal  round  it  shine. 
 
 PENITENCE. 
 
 "pAR  off  from  God,  O  thou  my  soul  ! 
 
 Far  off  from  God,  the  source  of  light ; 
 The  waves  of  passion  round  thee  roll, 
 And  interpose  a  starless  night. 
 
 Lost  on  thy  course,  thy  steps  astray, 
 How  canst  thou  find  again  thy  road  ? 
 
 Fall  on  the  knee,  devoutly  pray, 
 And  seek  the  aid  of  truth  and  God. 
 
 Thy  sins  confess,  from  error  flee  ; 
 
 Then  holy  thoughts  and  heavenly  love 
 Shall  come  through  sweet  humility, 
 
 And  flood  thy  soul  from  realms  above. 
 
 Flood  it  with  peace  that  earth  hath  not, 
 And  earth  no  power  to  take  away; 
 
 Thy  stains  washed  out,  thy  sins  forgot, 
 And  God  thy  trust,  thy  strength,  thy  stay. 
 
NATHANIEL  L.  FROTHINGHAM.  8y 
 
 THE  CROSS   OF  CHRIST. 
 
 The  fourth  stanza  in  the  original  is  here  omitted. 
 
 HPHE  Cross,  the  symbol  once  of  crime, 
 
 It  bore  a  hated  name  ; 
 Through  ages  dark  in  realms  of  time, 
 
 OCT  ' 
 
 The  mark  of  human  shame. 
 
 But  when  the  Son  of  God  appeared, 
 
 Haloed  with  light  divine,  — 
 Hung  on  the  cross  by  those  who  feared, 
 
 He  made  it  glory's  sign. 
 
 O  Son  of  God  !  that  cross  how  bright, 
 
 Which  typifies  thy  love  ! 
 To  human  hopes  a  beacon-light 
 
 To  guide  to  worlds  above. 
 
 O  symbol,  to  the  Christian  dear ! 
 
 Be  ever  dear  to  me  ; 
 To  strengthen  faith,  to  quell  all  fear, 
 
 And  lead,  O  God,  to  thee. 
 
 NATHANIEL    L.    FROTHINGHAM. 
 
 (1793-1870.) 
 
 Rev.  NATHANIEL  L.  Frothixgham,  D.D.,  was  born  in  Boston,  July 
 23,  1793.  ^e  graduated  at  Harvard  College,  in  181  r,  with  distinguished 
 honor,  in  the  class  with  Edward  Everett,  Samuel  Gilman,  and  others  of 
 subsequent  fame.  After  teaching  awhile  in  the  Boston  Latin  School,  he 
 was  for  a  short  time  a  private  tutor,  and  then  became,  in  1812,  when  he 
 was  only  nineteen  years  of  age,  Instructor  in  Rhetoric  and  Oratory  in 
 Harvard  College.  Meanwhile  he  studied  theology,  and  in  181 5  was  or- 
 dained pastor  of  the  First  Congregational  Church  in  Boston.  In  conse- 
 quence of  ill-health,  he  resigned  this  charge  in  1S50,  but  continued  to 
 worship  at  the  church  of  which  he  had  been  the  faithful  and  revered 
 minister  for  thirty-five  years,  until  failing  sight  and  strength  deprived 
 him  of  the  privilege.     He  visited  Europe  several  times  during  his  life. 
 
88      SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 He  was  the  author  of  more  than  fifty  published  sermons,  and  contrib- 
 uted a  large  number  of  religious  and  literary  articles  to  the  "  Christian 
 Examiner,"  the  "  North  American  Review,"  and  other  periodicals.  In 
 1852  he  published  a  volume  of  "  Sermons  in  the  Order  of  a  Twelve- 
 Month  ;  "  in  1855,  "  Metrical  Pieces,  Translated  and  Original : "  and,  in 
 1870,  "  Part  Second,"  or  a  new  series  of  his  poems.  Some  of  the  fine 
 hymns  with  which  the  last-named  volume  abounds,  and  which  he  had 
 himself  written  or  imported  from  the  German,  were  wrought  into  their 
 finished  forms  of  beauty  as  we  find  them  here,  and  were  given  to  the 
 pages  of  the  "  Monthly  Magazine  "  and  other  publications,  after  the  author 
 or  translator  himself  had  become  blind.  While  yet  a  student  at  Cam- 
 bridge, he  had  delivered  a  poem  at  the  installation  of  Dr.  Kirkland  as 
 President  of  the  College.  The  sacred  fire  of  his  genius  burned  steadily 
 on  through  life,  and  lighted  up  for  him  the  gathering  shadows  of  age. 
 
 He  received  his  degree  of  D.D.  from  Harvard  College  in  1836.  He 
 was  a  member  of  the  Massachusetts  Historical  Society,  and  also  of  the 
 Academy  of  Arts  and  Sciences.  His  wife  was  Ann  Gorham,  daughter  of 
 Peter  C.  Brooks,  an  eminent  merchant  of  Boston. 
 
 "All  who  knew  Dr.  Frothingham,"  wrote  Rev.  J.  W.  Thompson,  D.D., 
 in  the  "Monthly  Magazine,"  soon  after  his  death,  April  4,  1870,  "rec- 
 ognized in  him  the  most  courteous  gentleman  ;  the  finished  scholar  ;  the 
 man  of  exquisite  tastes ;  the  refined,  instructive,  pleasing,  and  able 
 preacher  ;  the  sweet  poet,  his  lips  moist  with  the  dew,  now  of  Parnas- 
 sus, and  now  of  Hermon,  as  he  followed  his  charming  muse  from  classic 
 to  holy  land,  himself  equally  at  home  in  both." 
 
 The  first  hymns  or  sacred  poems  which  we  copy  are  taken  from  his 
 "Metrical  Pieces,"  published  in  1855.  Most  of  them  are  in  many  of  the 
 Church  Collections. 
 
 ORDINATION    OF    A    MINISTER. 
 
 Written  for  the  ordination  of  Mr.  William   P.  Lunt  as  pastor  of  the    Second   Unitarian 
 Congregational  Society  of  the  city  of  New  York,  June  19,  1828. 
 
 f~\  GOD,  whose  presence  glows  in  all 
 
 Within,  around  us,  and  above  ! 
 Thy  word  we  bless,  thy  name  we  call, 
 
 Whose  word  is  Truth,  whose  name  is  Love. 
 
 That  truth  be  with  the  heart  believed 
 Of  all  who  seek  this  sacred  place  ; 
 
 With  power  proclaimed,  in  peace  received, 
 Our  spirits'  light,  thy  Spirit's  grace. 
 
NATHANIEL  L.   FROTHINGHAM.  89 
 
 That  love  its  holy  influence  pour, 
 
 To  keep  us  meek,  and  make  us  free, 
 And  throw  its  binding  blessing  more 
 
 Round  each  with  all,  and  all  with  thee. 
 
 Direct  and  guard  the  youthful  strength, 
 
 Devoted  to  thy  Son  this  clay  ; 
 And  give  thy  word  full  course  at  length 
 
 O'er  man's  defects  and  time's  decay. 
 
 Send  down  its  angel  to  our  side ; 
 
 Send  in  its  calm  upon  the  breast ; 
 For  we  would  know  no  other  guide, 
 
 And  we  can  need  no  other  rest. 
 
 CHRIST'S    MANIFESTATION. 
 
 Written  for  the  installation  of  Rev.  William  P.  Lunt,  as  colleague  pastor  with  Rev. 
 Peter  Whitney,  at  Quincy,  Mass.,  June  3,  1835.  The  sermon  on  the  occasion  was  also  on 
 the  .Manifestation  of  Christ. 
 
 \\7E  meditate  the  day 
 
 Of  triumph  and  of  rest, 
 When,  shown  of  God,  and  shaped  in  clay, 
 The  Word  was  manifest. 
 
 The  angels  saw  and  sung  ; 
 
 Earth  listened  far  and  wide  ; 
 Believed  and  preached,  —  a  faith,  a  tongue, 
 
 The  Word  was  glorified. 
 
 Lord,  give  it  gracious  sweep, 
 
 And  here  its  errand  bless, 
 Whose  mercy  sent  it  o'er  the  deep, 
 
 To  glad  a  wilderness. 
 
90      SONGS  OF   THE  LIBERAL   FAITH. 
 
 Shoot  out  its  starry  *  light, 
 To  guide  our  pilgrim  way  ; 
 
 A  sign  of  hope  through  this  world's  night, 
 And  brighter  than  its  day. 
 
 Again  thy  witness-voice  ! 
 
 Again  thy  spirit-dove  !  # 
 That  hearts  may  in  its  trust  rejoice, 
 
 And  soften  with  its  love. 
 
 Send  round  its  blessed  cup  # 
 
 As  once  in  Galilee  ; 
 And  catch  our  dull  affections  up 
 
 To  heaven,  and  Christ,  and  Thee. 
 
 THE    CHURCH. 
 
 Written  for  the  ordination  of  Mr.  Henry  W.  Bellows,  at  New  York,  1839. 
 
 f~\  LORD  of  life,  and  truth,  and  grace, 
 
 Ere  Nature  was  begun  ! 
 Make  welcome  to  our  erring  race 
 Thy  Spirit  and  thy  Son. 
 
 We  hail  the  Church,  built  high  o'er  all 
 
 The  heathen's  rage  and  scoff  ; 
 Thy  providence  its  fenced  wall, 
 "  The  Lamb  the  light  thereof." 
 
 Thy  Christ  hath  reached  his  heavenly  seat 
 Through  sorrows  and  through  scars ; 
 
 The  golden  lamps  are  at  his  feet, 
 And  in  his  hand  the  stars. f 
 
 *  One  of  three  ancient  symbols,  in  the  Church,  of  Christ's  manifestation  to  the 
 Gentiles. 
 
 t  Revelations  ii.  1. 
 
NATHANIEL   L.   FROTH/NGHAM.  91 
 
 Oh,  may  he  walk  among  us  here, 
 
 With  his  rebuke  and  love,  — 
 A  brightness  o'er  this  lower  sphere, 
 
 A  ray  from  worlds  above ! 
 
 Teach  thou  thy  youthful  servant,  Lord, 
 
 The  mysteries  he  reveals, 
 That  reverence  may  receive  the  word, 
 
 And  meekness  loose  the  seals. 
 
 HYMN    OF    DEDICATION. 
 
 For  the  dedication  of  the  Church  of  the  Saviour,  Boston,  Nov.  10,  1847. 
 
 r\  SAVIOUR,  whose  immortal  word 
 
 For  ever  lasts  the  same  ! 
 Thy  grace  within  the  walls  afford, 
 Here  builded  to  thy  name. 
 
 No  other  name  is  named  below, 
 
 No  other  sign  unfurled, 
 To  lead  our  hope,  or  quell  our  woe. 
 
 Or  sanctify  the  world. 
 
 Here,  many-tongued,  thy  truth  be  found, 
 
 And  mind  and  heart  employ ; 
 Thy  Law  and  Promise  pour  around 
 
 Their  terror  and  their  joy  ! 
 
 Here  may  thy  saints  new  progress  make  ; 
 
 Thy  loitering  ones  be  sped  ; 
 And  here  thy  mourners  comfort  take, 
 
 And  here  thy  poor  be  fed. 
 
 May  God,  thy  God,  his  Spirit  send,  — 
 
 The  Word  is  else  unblest,  — 
 And  fill  this  place  from  end  to  end, 
 
 O  Ark  of  strength  and  rest ! 
 
92  SONGS  OF  THE   LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 ..       COMMUNION    HYMN. 
 
 "  Do  this  in  remembrance  of  me." 
 "  How  he  was  known  of  them  in  breaking  of  bread." 
 
 "  "D  EMEMBER  me,';  the  Saviour  said, 
 
 On  that  forsaken  night, 
 When  from  his  side  the  nearest  fled, 
 And  death  was  close  in  sight. 
 
 Through  all  the  following  ages'  track 
 
 The  world  remembers  yet ; 
 With  love  and  worship  gazes  back, 
 
 And  never  can  forget. 
 
 But  who  of  us  has  seen  his  face, 
 
 Or  heard  the  words  he  said  ? 
 And  none  can  now  his  look  retrace 
 
 In  breaking  of  the  bread. 
 
 Oh,  blest  are  they,  who  have  not  seen, 
 
 And  yet  believe  him  still ! 
 They  know  him,  when  his  praise  they  mean, 
 
 And  when  they  do  his  will. 
 
 We  hear  his  word  along  our  way  ; 
 
 We  see  his  light  above ; 
 Remember  when  we  strive  and  pray, 
 
 Remember  when  we  love. 
 
 STRENGTH. 
 
 To  a  Friend  near  Death. 
 
 "  Y\7HEN  I  am  weak,  I'm  strong," 
 
 The  great  Apostle  cried. 
 The  strength,  that  did  not  to  the  earth  belong, 
 The  might  of  Heaven  supplied. 
 
NATHANIEL  L.   FROTHINGHAM.  93 
 
 "  When  I  am  weak,  I'm  strong;"  — 
 
 Blind  Milton  caught  that  strain, 
 And  thing  its  victory  o'er  the  ills  that  throng 
 
 Round  Age,  and  Want,  and  Pain. 
 
 "  When  I  am  weak  I'm  strong," 
 
 Each  Christian  heart  repeats  ; 
 These  words  will  tune  its  feeblest  breath  to  song, 
 
 And  fire  its  languid  heats. 
 
 "  When  I  am  weak,  I'm  strong," 
 
 That  saying  is  for  you, 
 Dear  friend,  and  well  it  may  become  your  tongue, 
 
 Whose  soul  has  found  it  true. 
 
 O  Holy  Strength  !  whose  ground 
 
 Is  in  the  heavenly  land  ; 
 And  whose  supporting  help  alone  is  found 
 
 In  God's  immortal  hand. 
 
 O  blessed  !  that  appears 
 
 Wrhen  fleshly  aids  are  spent ; 
 And  girds  the  mind,  when  most  it  faints  and  fears, 
 
 With  trust  and  sweet  content. 
 
 It  bids  us  cast  aside 
 
 All  thoughts  of  lesser  powers  ; 
 Give  up  ail  hopes  from  changing  time  and  tide, 
 
 And  all  vain  will  of  ours. 
 
 We  have  but  to  confess 
 
 That  there's  but  one  retreat ; 
 And  meekly  lay  each  need  and  each  distress 
 
 Down  at  the  sovereign  Feet : 
 
 Then,  then  it  fills  the  place 
 
 Of  all  we  hoped  to  do  ; 
 And  sunken  nature  triumphs  in  the  grace 
 
 That  bears  us  up  and  through. 
 
94  SONGS   OF   THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 A  better  glow  than  health 
 
 Flushes  the  cheek  and  brow  ; 
 The  heart  is  stout  with  store  of  nameless  wealth :  — 
 
 We  can  do  all  things  now. 
 
 No  less  sufficience  seek  ; 
 
 All  counsel  less  is  wrong  ; 
 The  whole  world's  force  is  poor  and  mean  and  weak,  - 
 
 "When  I  am  weak,  I'm  strong." 
 
 The  following  selections  are  from  the  second  volume  of  "  Metrical 
 Pieces  :  "  — 
 
 HOMEWARD   FROM    FOREIGN    LANDS. 
 
 "  Then  I  said,  I  shall  die  in  my  nest."  —  Job  xxix.  18. 
 
 'T^HERE  are  they  who  have  left  their  sweet  home, 
 Through  these  strange  distant  places  to  roam, 
 And  no  more  back,  no  more,  ever  come ; 
 And  I  sigh,  with  their  memory  oppressed, 
 "  Let  me  die  in  my  nest." 
 
 When  the  troubles  of  nature  are  rife, 
 And  the  heart  with  itself  is  at  strife, 
 For  then  Death  is  in  conflict  with  Life, 
 I  submit  to  the  sovereign  behest, 
 But  would  die  in  my  nest. 
 
 Where  within  me  the  first  thoughts  were  dreamed, 
 And  upon  me  affection  first  beamed, 
 And  through  blossoms  and  tears  my  spring  teemed ; 
 Amid  scenes  and  companions  loved  best, 
 I  would  die  in  my  nest. 
 
X ATI  [A  XI  EL  L.   FROTHIXGHAM.  95 
 
 Not  in  lands  with  a  speech  not  my  own, 
 Where  the  sights  that  are  newest  look  lone ; 
 But  where  all  most  familiar  had  grown 
 
 To  my  eyes  and  the  throbs  of  my  breast,  — 
 Shall  I  die  in  that  nest  ? 
 
 They  will  say,  "  It  is  one  to  the  wise 
 From  what  country  the  freed  spirit  flies, 
 For  the  way  is  the  same  to  the  skies  ; "  — 
 Truths  to  faith  and  to  reason  addressed, 
 But  alas  for  the  nest ! 
 
 Oh,  methinks  it  would  glad  the  last  gaze, 
 To  be  circled  with  friends  of  old  days, 
 And  the  spots  that  are  gilt  with  the  rays, 
 That  stream  from  the  sun  of  the  West 
 O'er  the  down  of  my  nest ! 
 
 And  I  hear  a  propitious  decree  ; 
 
 And  the  blessing  I  hoped  for  shall  be  ; 
 
 For  I  smell  the  wide  air  of  the  sea, 
 
 There  is  land  o'er  the  wave's  foamy  crest, 
 "  I  shall  die  in  my  nest." 
 
 "ARISE   AND    EAT." 
 
 Arise  and  eat,  because  the  journey  is  too  great  for  thee."  —  i  Kings  xix.  7. 
 
 "  'T^HE  journey  is  too  great  for  thee," 
 
 The  prophet  heard  ; 
 And  all  may  list  in  secrecy 
 The  self-same  word. 
 
 Life's  way  and  work  lie  forward  spread 
 
 In  Duty's  sight  ; 
 And  who  but  needs  more  strength  to  stead, 
 
 And  fuller  light  ? 
 
96      SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH, 
 
 And  grant  no  lack  of  view  or  force,  — 
 
 We  faint  in  will  ; 
 And  so  the  sweep  of  that  great  course 
 
 We  fail  to  fill. 
 
 The  weary  tracts  of  pain  and  grief 
 Will  stretch  far  through, 
 
 Till  the  flesh  sinks  beyond  relief, 
 And  the  heart  too. 
 
 The  tangled  paths  of  many  a  care 
 
 Wind  slow  about  * 
 And  straight  in  front,  lo  !  flinty  fare 
 And  foggy  doubt ! 
 
 And  hindrances  the  firmest  tread 
 
 Will  oft  beset  : 
 And  perils  with  a  deeper  dread 
 
 The  dear  life  threat. 
 
 "  The  journey  is  too  great  for  thee  !  " 
 
 Beyond  the  bounds 
 Where  Time  parts  from  Immensity 
 
 Its  measured  grounds. 
 
 Oh,  then  that  other  word  attend  ! 
 
 Its  offer  meet :  — 
 The  calling  of  an  angel  friend  ; 
 
 "  Arise  and  eat." 
 
 Eat  of  the  fruits  of  holy  trust 
 
 In  heavenly  good  ; 
 Not  grown  of  dust,  to  mould  to  dust, 
 
 But  angels'  food. 
 
NATHANIEL   L.   FROTHTNGHAM.  97 
 
 That  food  shall  nerve  both  limb  and  heart 
 
 When  faint  with  fear  ;  ■ 
 And  pour  through  each  immortal  part 
 
 Its  power  and  cheer. 
 
 Thus,  girt  with  zeal,  the  travelling  soul, 
 
 With  patience  shod, 
 Arrives  at  Horeb's  distant  goal, 
 
 The  mount  of  God. 
 
 CAST    THY    BREAD    UPON    THE    WATERS. 
 
 Cast  thy  bread  upon  the  waters  :  for  thou  shalt  find  it  after  many  days." —  Eccl.  xi.  i. 
 
 {~"*AST  thy  bread  upon  the  Waters, 
 
 Food  for  Penury's  sons  and  daughters  ; 
 Nor  on  its  drowning  crumbs  mistrustful  gaze, 
 For  thou  shalt  find  it  after  many  days. 
 
 Sail  thine  aid  across  the  billows, 
 For  famished  mouths  and  fevered  pillows  : 
 Then  watch  it  back  over  those  street  less  ways, 
 For  thou  shalt  find  it  after  many  days. 
 
 Sink  thy  corn  within  the  furrow 
 
 Of  labor  faithful,  patience  thorough  ; 
 
 And  trust  it  to  great  Nature's  drops  and  rays, 
 
 For  thou  shalt  find  it  after  many  da 
 
 ii. 
 
 the  aid  which  thou  bestowest ; 
 
 •he  very  seed  thou  sov. 
 N    I  just  the  prize  thy  doting  heart  portrays, — 
 Thou  wilt  not  find  these  after  many  d 
 7 
 
98  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FALTH. 
 
 Nobler  stores  and  growths  and  prizes 
 
 Lie  in  what  the  soul  devises  ; 
 For  this  hath  spheres  that  show  no  waning  phase, 
 Nor  own  dependence  on  these  mortal  days. 
 
 Crave  from  Fortune  no  indenture ; 
 
 Boldly  on,  and  venture,  venture  ! 
 Who  scants  his  pains  and  risks  for  heavenly  praise 
 Finds  naught  but  pains  and  losses  all  his  days. 
 
 Trust !     Let  not  weak  expectation 
 Take  the  place  of  that  strong  station  ; 
 The  peace  that's  free  from  this  world's  hurt  and  craze 
 Thou'lt  find  above,  where  there  are  no  more  days. 
 
 FEDERAL    STREET    MEETING-HOUSE. 
 
 Sung  in  the  Federal  Street  Meeting-House,  Boston,  on  the  last  Sunday  of  its  use  for 
 public  worship,  March  13,  1859.  This  was  the  church  that  witnessed,  for  so  long  a  time, 
 the  ministry  of  Dr.  Channing,  and  also  of  Dr   Gannett,  his  colleague  and  successor. 
 
 "pAREWELL,  ye  walls  !  though  in  your  sacred  square 
 
 The  feet  of  many  a  saint  have  loved  to  wajk ; 
 Farewell,  ye  walls  !  though  through  your  charmed  air 
 Echoes,  and  more  than  echoes,  seem  to  talk. 
 
 Oh,  not  within  the  house  that  man  has  reared, 
 Or  man  has  hallowed,  is  God's  Spirit  bound ; 
 
 It  runs  and  sanctifies,  adored,  endeared  ; 
 For  ever  present,  and  sufficient  found. 
 
 Nor  let  us  think  that  all  the  fervid  speech 
 The  preacher  utters  when  his  triumphs  come 
 
 Was  more  of  human  worth,  or  heavenly  reach, 
 Than  the  heart's  prayer  that  rises  and  is  dumb. 
 
NATHANIEL  L.   FROTHINGHAM.  99 
 
 We  thank  thee,  Father,  for  thy  good  gifts  here, 
 In  spoken  word  and  feeling  unexpressed  ; 
 
 Let  thy  full  grace  be,  as  aforetime,  near  ; 
 
 Go  with  our  steps,  and  lodge  where'er  we  rest. 
 
 Now  lift  the  Ark,  God's  testimonial  sign  ; 
 
 May  union  hold  it  by  its  golden  rings  ! 
 His  law  laid  up  within  its  awful  shrine, 
 
 Its  lid  arched  over  with  the  cherubs'  wings. 
 
 HYMN. 
 
 For  the  dedication  of  the  house  of  worship  of  the  Third  Unitarian  Society,  New  York, 
 Dec.  25,  1863. 
 
 /^~\NE  Father,  God,  we  own; 
 
 One  Spirit  ever  more  ; 
 One  Christ,  with  manger,  cross,  and  throne, 
 The  Light,  the  Way,  the  Door. 
 
 In  souls  we  hail  his  birth  j 
 
 'Tis  now  he  comes  again  : 
 His  kingdom  is  the  convert  earth, 
 
 His  church  all  faithful  men. 
 
 The  Scriptures  thus  we  read ; 
 
 Of  strangest  powers  compiled, 
 To  mould  the  heart  and  clear  the  creed 
 
 Of  earth's  frail,  clouded  child. 
 
 Its  essence,  not  its  writ, 
 
 Our  sovereign  rule  we  call ; 
 Not  fastening  down  all  truth  to  it, 
 
 But  widening  it  to  all. 
 
 With  this  free  reverence,  Lord, 
 
 In  Christly  church  estate, 
 With  earnest,  brotherly  accord, 
 
 These  walls  we  dedicate 
 
IOO  SOArGS   OF   THE  LIBERAL   FAITH. 
 
 To  prayer  and  holy  thought ; 
 
 Affections  set  above  ; 
 To  faiths  from  highest  fountains  brought, 
 
 And  works  of  widest  love. 
 
 Thy  presence,  Father,  make 
 
 The  refuge  and  supply  ; 
 And  for  thy  Truth  and  Mercy's  sake 
 
 Build  on,  and  sanctify. 
 
 A    LAMENT. 
 
 For  Rev.  William  Parsons  Lunt,  D.D.,  who  died  at  Akabah,  the  ancient  Ezion-Geber,  on 
 the  Red  Sea,  March  20,  1857,  on  his  way  to  the  Holy  Land. 
 
 A    WAIL  from  beyond  the  desert ! 
 A  wail  from  across  the  sea  ! 
 The  home  he  left, 
 Bereft,  bereft, 
 For  evermore  must  be. 
 
 As  spread  the  heavy  tidings, 
 How  many  a  heart  grows  sore 
 
 That  the  eloquent  grace 
 
 Of  that  pensive  face 
 And  that  mellow  voice  is  o'er  ! 
 
 Alas  for  thee,  O  our  brother  ! 
 And  for  this  we  sorrow  most, 
 
 That  a  spirit  so  fair 
 
 Must  be  breathed  out  there, 
 On  that  stern  Arabian  coast :  — 
 
 That  a  life  so  all  unforeign, 
 To  faith  and  his  country  bound, 
 
 Turned  dying  eyes 
 
 Upon  Asian  skies, 
 And  dropped  on  Moslem  ground. 
 
NATHANIEL  L.  FROTHINGHAM.  ioi 
 
 Away  for  the  Holy  City 
 With  pilgrim  soul  he  trod ; 
 
 But  nearer  at  hand 
 
 Must  the  pearl  gates  expand 
 Of  the  city  new  of  God. 
 
 The  judgment-peak  of  Sinai 
 Rose  now  in  the  homeward  West. 
 
 Its  shadows  grim 
 
 Had  no  terror  for  him, 
 As  he  sank  to  his  Christian  rest. 
 
 But,  oh,  that  the  thoughtful  scholar, — 
 His  mind  at  its  fullest  noon,  — 
 
 That  the  preacher's  tongue 
 
 And  the  poet's  song 
 Should  pass  away  so  soon  ! 
 
 HYMN    FOR    THE    BLIND. 
 
 f^\    GOD  !  to  thine  all-seeing  ken 
 
 The  night  and  day  are  one  ; 
 The  blackness  of  earth's  deepest  den, 
 And  flaming  of  the  sun. 
 
 Both  lend  to  eyes  of  mortal  race 
 Their  sweet  and  mingled  aid; 
 
 And  blest  in  its  alternate  place 
 The  shining  and  the  shade. 
 
 For  us  a  cloud  is  on  the  sight, 
 
 And  Nature's  face  is  hid  ; 
 Alike  untouched  by  figured  light 
 
 The  eyeball  and  the  lid. 
 
 So  it  hath  pleased  thee,  God  !     Be  each 
 Sore  plaint  and  passion  still  ; 
 
 And  holy  thoughts  kneel  down,  and  teach 
 Submission  to  that  will. 
 
102  SONGS   OF   THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 From  all  our  diminutions,  Lord, 
 Let  trust  and  love  increase  ; 
 
 And  all  our  hindrances  reward 
 With  patience  and  with  peace. 
 
 Oh,  clear  the  mind  !     Be  more  and  more 
 
 The  invisible  revealed ; 
 And  spirits  brighten  at  the  door, 
 
 When  all  without  is  sealed  ! 
 
 PRAYER   AND   THE    DEAD. 
 
 n^HEY  passed  away  from  sight  and  hand, 
 
 A  slow  successive  train  ; 
 To  memory's  heart,  a  gathered  band, 
 Our  lost  ones  come  again. 
 
 Not  back  to  earth,  a  second  time, 
 
 The  mortal  path  to  tread ; 
 They  walk  in  their  appointed  clime, 
 
 The  dead,  but  not  the  dead. 
 
 Their  spirits  up  to  God  we  gave, 
 
 With  eyes  as  wet  as  dim  ; 
 Confiding  in  his  care  to  save, 
 
 For  all  do  live  to  him. 
 
 Beyond  all  we  can  know  or  think, 
 
 Beyond  the  earth  and  sky, 
 Beyond  Time's  lone  and  dreaded  brink, 
 
 Their  deathless  dwellings  lie. 
 
 Dear  thoughts  that  once  our  union  made, 
 
 Death  does  not  disallow  : 
 We  prayed  for  them  while  here  they  stayed, 
 
 And  what  shall  hinder  now  ? 
 
 Our  Father  !  give  them  perfect  day 
 
 And  portions  with  the  blest ; 
 Oh,  pity  if  they  went  astray, 
 
 And  pardon  for  the  best ! 
 
HENRY  WAREy   JR.  103 
 
 As  they  may  need,  still  deign  to  bring 
 
 The  helping  of  thy  grace  ; 
 The  shadow  of  thy  guardian  wing, 
 
 Or  shining  of  thy  face. 
 
 For  all  their  sorrows  here  below 
 
 Be  boundless  joy  and  peace  ; 
 For  all  their  love,  a  heavenly  glow 
 
 That  never  more  shall  cease. 
 
 O  Lord  of  souls  !  when  ours  shall  part, 
 
 To  try  the  farther  birth, 
 Let  Faith  go  journeying  with  the  heart 
 
 To  those  we  loved  on  earth. 
 
 HENRY    WARE,    Jr. 
 
 .    (1794-1843.) 
 
 Rev.  Henry  Ware,  Jr.,  D.D.,  was  born  in  Hingham,  Mass.,  April 
 21,  1794,  and  was  the  eldest  son  of  Rev.  Henry  Ware,  D.D.,  minister 
 of  the  Unitarian  Church  in  that  town,  and  subsequently,  for  thirty-five 
 vears,  Hollis  Professor  of  Divinity  at  Cambridge.  Having  pursued  his 
 early  studies,  first  in  the  schools  of  his  native  place  then  at  Duxbury 
 under  Rev.  Dr.  Allyn,  and  afterward  under  Judge  Ware  at  Cambridge,  he 
 entered  Harvard  College  in  1S0S,  and  graduated  with  high  honor  in  1812. 
 He  was  for  two  years  assistant  teacher  at  the  Exeter  Academy,  meanwhile 
 studying  theology.  Having,  still  later,  more  fully  prepared  himself  for 
 the  ministry  under  the  immediate  direction  of  his  father,  he  was  licensed  to 
 preach  by  the  Boston  Association,  July  31,  1815  ;  and  was  ordained  pastor 
 of  the  Second  Church  of  that  city,  Jan.  1,  1817.  In  consequence  of  ill- 
 health,  he  tendered,  in  1828,  his  resignation  ;  but  his  society  was  unwilling 
 to  accept  it,  and  elected  as  his  colleague  Mr.  Ralph  Waldo  Emerson, 
 who  entered  upon  his  labors  as  associate  minister,  March  ir,  1829. 
 During  the  same  year,  Mr.  Ware  was  appointed  Professor  of  Pulpit  Elo- 
 quence and  Pastoral  Care  in  the  Cambridge  Theological  School,  but 
 engaged  in  the  active  duties  of  his  new  sphere  only  after  he  had  spent 
 nearly  a  year  abroad.  He  received  the  degree  of  D.l).  from  Harvard 
 College  in  1S34.  In  the  summer  of  1842,  exhausted  by  his  arduous  work 
 as  a  lecturer,  preacher,  and  writer,  he  withdrew  from  his  important  post 
 of  service,  and  removed  to  Framingham,  where  he  died,  Sept.  25,  1843. 
 
104  SONGS   OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 His  first  marriage  was  with  Miss  Elizabeth  Watson  Waterhouse, 
 daughter  of  Dr.  Benjamin  Waterhouse,  of  Cambridge.  One  of  their 
 children  is  Rev.  J.  F.  W.  Ware,  now  minister  of  the  Arlington  Street 
 Church,  Boston.  Mrs.  Ware  died  Feb.  9,  1824.  The  second  wife  was 
 Mary  Lovell  Pickard,  whose  Memoir,  written  by  Rev.  E.  B.  Hall,  D.D., 
 both  from  the  manner  in  which  the  work  was  executed  and  from  the 
 beautiful  character  and  life  of  the  woman  whom  it  portrays,  has  well 
 deserved  the  favor  which  it  has  received  from  the  public. 
 
 Professor  Ware's  numerous  theological,  religious,  and  literary  produc- 
 tions are  all  marked  by  great  intellectual  ability,  and  by  a  lofty,  consecrated 
 spirit  and  purpose.  Previous  to  1824,  he  was  for  some  time  the  editor  of 
 the  "Christian  Disciple,"  which  had  been  established  in  1813,  and  which, 
 in  1819,  became  a  more  pronounced  organ  of  Unitarian  views  and  senti- 
 ments. In  1824,  while  under  the  editorial  care  of  Rev.  John  G.  Palfrey, 
 it  took  the  name  of  the  "Christian  Examiner,"  and  continued  to  receive, 
 for  many  years,  Mr.  Ware's  ardent  sympathy  and  frequent'contributions. 
 Some  months  before  his  death,  he  was  inclined  once  more  to  take  charge 
 of  this  magazine,  and  actually  laid  out  a  great  deal  of  work  with  a  view 
 to  its  increased  circulation  and  usefulness.  But,  though  he  was  taken 
 away  amidst  his  many  plans,  and  in  the  very  fulness  and  prime  of  his 
 manhood,  he  had  lived  quite  long  enough  to  accomplish  a  wonderful 
 service  for  truth  and  humanity,  as  the  long  list  of  his  valuable  writings, 
 given  in  his  Memoir,  prepared  by  his  brother,  John  Ware,  M.D.,  and 
 published  in  1846,  sufficiently  shows.  Four  volumes  of  his  works  ap- 
 peared from  the  press  in  1847,  edited  by  Rev.  Chandler  Robbins,  who 
 succeeded  Mr.  Emerson  as  the  pastor  of  the  Second  Church,  and  is  still 
 its  minister.  His  treatise  on  the  "  Formation  of  the  Christian  Charac- 
 ter "  and  his  "Life  of  the  Saviour"  have  passed  through  many  editions, 
 and  blessed  many  souls.  Various  other  volumes,  the  contents  of  which 
 were  afterward  included  in  his  collected  writings,  had  been  previously 
 given  to  the  press  during  his.  life  ;  while  not  alone  the  "  Christian  Dis- 
 ciple "  and  "  Christian  Examiner,"  but  other  periodicals  as  well,  had  had 
 their  pages  enriched  by  the  productions,  in  prose  or  poetry,  of  his  gifted 
 mind.  Wrote  Rev.  E.  S.  Gannett,  D.D. :  "  That  God  had  bestowed  on 
 him  the  gift  of  genius,  no  one  who  has  read  the  poetic  effusions  which 
 occasion  struck  from  his  glowing  mind  can  doubt." 
 
 In  the  first  of  the  four  volumes  of  his  works  are  numerous  hymns  and 
 poems  which  have  given  him  a  high  rank  among  American  bards.  Some 
 of  the  more  important  of  these  are,  "The  Peace  of  18 15,"  "  The  Vision 
 of  Liberty,"  "  To  the  Ursa  Major,"  "  My  Dream  of  Life,"  and  "  Sea- 
 sons of  Prayer."  We  select  for  our  pages  the  last  of  these,  together 
 with  others  of  like  merit  that  have  had  a  place,  to  a  greater  or  less  ex- 
 tent, in  many  hymn-books.  The  following  lines  appeared  in  the  "  Chris- 
 tian Disciple,"  Vol.  I.  :  — 
 
HENRY  WARE,   JR.  105 
 
 RESURRECTION    OF    CHRIST. 
 
 I  FT  your  glad  voices  in  triumph  on  high, 
 For  Jesus  hath  risen,  and  man  cannot  die  ; 
 Vain  were  the  terrors  that  gathered  around  him, 
 And  short  the  dominion  of  death  and  the  grave  ; 
 He  burst  from  the  fetters  of  darkness  that  bound  him, 
 Resplendent  in  glory,  to  live  and  to  save  : 
 
 Loud  was  the  chorus  of  angels  on  high,  — 
 
 "  The  Saviour  hath  risen,  and  man  cannot  die." 
 
 Glory  to  God,  in  full  anthems  of  joy  ! 
 
 The  being  he  gave  us  death  cannot  destroy! 
 Sad  were  the  life  we  must  part  with  to-morrow, 
 If  tears  were  our  birthright,  and  death  were  our  end  ; 
 But  Jesus  hath  cheered  the  dark  valley  of  sorrow, 
 And  bade  us,  immortal,  to  heaven  ascend  : 
 
 Lift.  then,  your  voices  in  triumph  on  high, 
 
 For  Jesus  hath  risen,  and  man  shall  not  die. 
 
 '7- 
 
 THE    TRUTH    AS     IT    IS     IN    JESUS. 
 
 For  the  ordination  of    Mr.   Jared  Sparks  as  pastor  of    the  Unitarian  Church  at  Balti- 
 more, May  5,  1S19. 
 
 f~^  REAT  God,  the  followers  of  thy  Son, 
 
 We  bow  before  thy  mercy-seat 
 To  worship  thee,  the  Holy  One, 
 And  pour  our  wishes  at  thy  feet. 
 
 Oh,  grant  thy  blessing  here  to-day  ! 
 
 Oh,  give  thy  people  joy  and  peace  ! 
 The  tokens  of  thy  love  display, 
 
 And  favor  that  shall  never  cease. 
 
 We  seek  the  truth  that  Jesus  brought ; 
 
 His  path  of  light  we  long  to  tread  ; 
 Here  be  his  holy  doctrines  taught, 
 
 And  here  their  purest  influence  shed. 
 
106  SOJVGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 May  faith  and  hope  and  love  abound  ; 
 
 Our  sins  and  errors  be  forgiven  ; 
 And  we,  in  thy  great  day,  be  found 
 
 Children  of  God,  and  heirs  of  heaven, 
 
 ON    OPENING    OUR    ORGAN. 
 
 Nov.  9,  1822 
 
 A  LL  Nature's  works  His  praise  declare, 
 
 To  whom  they  all  belong ; 
 There  is  a  voice  in  every  star, 
 
 In  every  breeze  a  song. 
 Sweet  music  fills  the  world  abroad 
 With  strains  of  love  and  power  ; 
 The  stormy  sea  sings  praise  to  God, 
 The  thunder  and  the  shower. 
 
 To  God  the  tribes  of  ocean  cry, 
 
 And  birds  upon  the  wing  ; 
 To  God  the  powers  that  dwell  on  high 
 
 Their  tuneful  tribute  bring. 
 Like  them,  let  man  the  throne  surround, 
 
 With  them  loud  chorus  raise, 
 While  instruments  of  lof  lier  sound 
 
 Assist  his  feeble  praise. 
 
 Great  God,  to  thee  we  consecrate 
 
 Our  voices  and  our  skill ; 
 We  bid  the  pealing  organ  wait 
 
 To  speak  alone  thy  will. 
 Oh,  teach  its  rich  and  swelling  notes 
 
 To  lift  our  souls  on  high  ; 
 And  while  the  music  round  us  floats, 
 
 Let  earth-born  passion  die. 
 
HENRY  WARE,   JR.  107 
 
 AROUND    THE  THRONE. 
 
 Published  in  the  "  Christian  Disciple,"  Vol.  V. 
 Revelation  iv.  2,  3,  xv.  3. 
 
 A  ROUND  the  throne  of  God 
 The  host  angelic  throngs  ; 
 They  spread  their  palms  abroad, 
 And  shout  perpetual  songs. 
 Him  first  they  own, 
 Him  last  and  best ; 
 God  ever  blest, 
 And  God  alone. 
 
 Their  golden  crowns  they  fling 
 
 Before  his  throne  of  light, 
 And  strike  the  rapturous  string, 
 Unceasing,  day  and  night : 
 "  Earth,  heaven,  and  sea, 
 Thy  praise  declare  ; 
 For  thine  they  are, 
 And  thine  shall  be. 
 
 "  O  holy,  holy  Lord, 
 
 Creation's  sovereign  King ! 
 Thy  majesty  adored 
 Let  all  creation  sing ; 
 Who  wast,  and  art, 
 And  art  to  be  j 
 Nor  time  shall  see 
 Thy  sway  depart. 
 
 "  Great  are  thy  works  of  praise, 
 
 O  God  of  boundless  might ! 
 All  just  and  true  thy  ways, 
 Thou  King  of  saints,  in  light ! 
 Let  all  above, 
 And  all  below, 
 Conspire  to  show 
 Thy  power  and  love. 
 
08  SOJVGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 "  Who  shall  not  fear  thee,  Lord, 
 
 And  magnify  thy  name  ? 
 
 Thy  judgments,  sent  abroad, 
 
 Thy  holiness  proclaim. 
 
 Nations  shall  throng 
 
 From  every  shore, 
 
 And  all  adore 
 
 In  one  loud  song." 
 
 While  thus  the  powers  on  high 
 
 Their  swelling  chorus  raise, 
 
 Let  earth  and  man  reply, 
 
 And  echo  back  the  praise ; 
 
 His  glory  own, 
 
 First,  last,  and  best ; 
 
 God  ever  blest, 
 
 And  God  alone. 
 1823. 
 
 SEASONS    OF   PRAYER. 
 
 rT^O  prayer,  to  prayer  ;  —  for  the  morning  breaks, 
 
 And  earth  in  her  Maker's  smile  awakes. 
 His  light  is  on  all  below  and  above, — 
 The  light  of  gladness,'  and  life,  and  love. 
 Oh,  then,  on  the  breath  of  this  early  air, 
 Send  upward  the  incense  of  grateful  prayer. 
 
 To  prayer  ;  —  for  the  glorious  sun  is  gone, 
 And  the  gathering  darkness  of  night  comes  on  ; 
 Like  a  curtain  from  God's  kind  hand  it  flows, 
 To  shade  the  couch  where  his  children  repose. 
 Then  kneel,  while  the  watching  stars  are  bright, 
 And  give  your  last  thoughts  to  the  Guardian  of  night. 
 
 To  prayer ;  —  for  the  day  that  God  has  blest 
 Comes  tranquilly  on  with  its  welcome  rest. 
 
HENRY   WARE,   JR.  1 09 
 
 It  speaks  of  creation's  early  bloom  ; 
 It  speaks  of  the  Prince  who  burst  the  tomb. 
 Then  summon  the  spirit's  exalted  powers, 
 And  devote  to  Heaven  the  hallowed  hours. 
 
 There  are  smiles  and  tears  in  the  mother's  eyes, 
 
 For  her  new-born  infant  beside  her  lies. 
 
 O  hour  of  bliss  !    when  the  heart  o'erflows 
 
 With  rapture  a  mother  only  knows. 
 
 Let  it  gush  forth  in  words  of  fervent  prayer  ; 
 
 Let  it  swell  up  to  Heaven  for  her  precious  care. 
 
 .• 
 
 There  are  smiles  and  tears  in  that  gathering  band, 
 
 Where  the  heart  is  pledged  with  the  trembling  hand  : 
 
 What  trying  thoughts  in  her  bosom  swell, 
 
 As  the  bride  bids  parent  and  home  farewell  ! 
 
 Kneel  down  by  the  side  of  the  tearful  pair, 
 
 And  strengthen  the  perilous  hour  with  prayer. 
 
 Kneel  down  by  the  sinner's  dying  side, 
 And  pray  for  his  soul  through  Him  who  died. 
 Large  drops  of  anguish  are  thick  on  his  brow  ; 
 Oh,  what  are  earth  and  its  pleasures  now  ! 
 And  what  shall  assuage  his  dark  despair, 
 But  the  penitent  cry  of  humble  prayer  ? 
 
 Kneel  down  by  the  couch  of  departing  faith, 
 
 And  hear  the  last  words  the  believer  saith. 
 
 He  has  bidden  adieu  to  his  earthly  friends  ; 
 
 There  is  peace  in  his  eye  that  upward  bends  ; 
 
 There  is  peace  in  his  calm,  confiding  air  ; 
 
 For  his  last  thoughts  are  God's,  his  last  words  prayer. 
 
 The  voice  of  prayer  at  the  sable  bier  ! 
 
 A  voice  to  sustain,  to  soothe,  and  to  cheer. 
 
 It  commends  the  spirit  to  God  who  gave  ; 
 
 It  lifts  the  thoughts  from  the  cold,  dark  grave  ; 
 
 It  points  to  the  glory  where  he  shall  reign, 
 
 Who  whispered,  "  Thy  brother  shall  rise  again." 
 
IIO  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 The  voice  of  prayer  in  the  world  of  bliss  ! 
 But  gladder,  purer,  than  rose  from  this. 
 The  ransomed  shout  to  their  glorious  King, 
 Where  no  sorrow  shades  the  soul  as  they  sing ; 
 But  a  sinless  and  joyous  song  they  raise, 
 And  their  voice  of  prayer  is  eternal  praise. 
 
 Awake,  awake  !  and  gird  up  thy  strength, 
 To  join  that  holy  band  at  length  ! 
 To  him  who  unceasing  love  displays, 
 Whom  the  powers  of  nature  unceasingly  praise, 
 To  him  thy  heart  and  thy  hours  be  given  ; 
 For  a  life  of  prayer  is  the  life  of  heaven. 
 1826. 
 
 HYMN. 
 
 For  an  ordination,  March,  1829. 
 
 r\  THOU,  who  on  thy  chosen  Son 
 ^^^     Didst  send  thy  Spirit  like  a  dove, 
 To  mark  the  long  expected  One, 
 And  seal  the  Messenger  of  love ; 
 
 And,  when  the  heralds  of  his  name 
 
 Went  forth  his  glorious  truth  to  spread, 
 
 Didst  send  it  down  in  tongues  of  flame 
 To  hallow  each  devoted  head,  — 
 
 So,  Lord,  thy  servant  now  inspire 
 With  holy  unction  from  above  ; 
 
 Give  him  the  tongue  of  living  fire, 
 Give  him  the  temper  of  the  dove. 
 
 Lord,  hear  thy  suppliant  church  to-day 
 Accept  our  work,  our  souls  possess. 
 
 'Tis  ours  to  labor,  watch,  and  pray ; 
 Be  thine  to  cheer,  sustain,  and  bless. 
 
HEXRY  WARE,   JR.  Ill 
 
 THE    GOD    OF    OUR    FATHERS. 
 
 For  the  Centennial  Celebration  of  the  Boston  Thursday  Lecture,  Oct.  17,  1833. 
 
 IKE  Israel's  hosts  to  exile  driven, 
 Across  the  flood  the  Pilgrims  fled  ; 
 Their  hands  bore  up  the  ark  of  Heaven, 
 
 And  Heaven  their  trusting  footsteps  led, 
 Till  on  these  savage  shores  they  trod, 
 And  won  the  wilderness  for  God. 
 
 Then,  where  their  weary  ark  found  rest. 
 
 Another  Zion  proudly  grew, 
 In  more  than  Judah's  glory  dressed, 
 
 With  light  that  Israel  never  knew. 
 From  sea  to  sea  her  empire  spread, 
 Her  temple  heaven,  and  Christ  her  head. 
 
 Then  let  the  grateful  church,  to-day, 
 Its  ancient  rite  with  gladness  keep  : 
 
 Our  fathers'  God  !  their  children  pray 
 Thy  blessing,  though  the  fathers  sleep. 
 
 Oh,  bless,  as  thou  hast  blessed  the  past, 
 
 While  earth,  and  time,  and  heaven  shall  last ! 
 
 FAMILY    MEETING. 
 
 Aug.  20,  1835. 
 
 TN  this  glad  hour,  when  children  meet, 
 
 And  home  with  them  their  children  bring, 
 Our  hearts  with  one  affection  beat, 
 One  song  of  praise  our  voices  sing. 
 
 For  all  the  faithful,  loved  and  dear, 
 
 Whom  thou  so  kindly,  Lord,  hast  given ; 
 
 For  those  who  still  are  with  us  here, 
 
 And  those  who  wait  for  us  in  heaven  ;  — 
 
112  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 For  every  past  and  present  joy, 
 
 For  honor,  competence,  and  health, 
 
 For  hopes  which  time  may  not  destroy, 
 Our  souls'  imperishable  wealth  :  — 
 
 For  all,  accept  our  humble  praise  ; 
 
 Still  bless  us,  Father,  by  thy  love  ; 
 And  when  are  closed  our  mortal  days, 
 
 Unite  us  in  one  home  above. 
 
 HYMN    IN    SICKNESS. 
 
 "pATHER,  thy  gentle  chastisement 
 
 Falls  kindly  on  my  burdened  soul  ; 
 I  see  its  merciful  intent, 
 
 To  warn  me  back  to  thy  control, 
 And  pray  that,  while  I  kiss  the  rod, 
 I  may  find  perfect  peace  with  God. 
 
 The  errors  of  my  heart  I  know  ; 
 
 I  feel  my  deep  infirmities  ■ 
 For,  often,  virtuous  feelings  glow, 
 
 And  holy  purposes  arise, 
 But,  like  the  morning  clouds,  decay, 
 As  empty,  though  as  fair,  as  they. 
 
 Forgive  the  weakness  I  deplore, 
 And  let  thy  peace  abound  in  me, 
 
 That  I  may  trust  my  heart  no  more, 
 But  wholly  cast  myself  on  thee. 
 
 Oh,  let  my  Father's  strength  be  mine, 
 
 And  my  devoted  life  be  thine  ! 
 
 March,  1836. 
 
 HYMN. 
 
 For  the  dedication  of  a  church,  April,   1839. 
 
 VX  7E  rear  not  a  temple,  like  Judah's  of  old, 
 
 Whose  portals  were  marble,  whose  vaultings  were  gold  • 
 No  incense  is  lighted,  no  victims  are  slain, 
 No  monarch  kneels  praying  to  hallow  the  fane. 
 
HENRY  WARE,   JR.  113 
 
 More  simple  and  lowly  the  walls  that  we  raise, 
 And  humbler  the  pomp  of  procession  and  praise, 
 Where  the  heart  is  the  altar  whence  incense  shall  roll, 
 And  Messiah  the  King  who  shall  pray  for  the  soul. 
 
 O  Father,  come  in  !  but  not  in  the  cloud 
 
 Which  filled  the  bright  courts  where   thy  chosen  ones 
 
 bowed  ; 
 But  come  in  that  6pirit  of  glory  and  grace 
 Which  beams  on  the  soul  and  illumines  the  race. 
 
 Oh,  come  in  the  power  of  thy  life-giving  Word, 
 And  reveal  to  each  heart  its  Redeemer  and  Lord  ; 
 Till  Faith  bring  the  peace  to  the  penitent  given, 
 And  Love  fill  the  air  with  the  fragrance  of  heaven. 
 
 The  pomp  of  Moriah  has  long  passed  away, 
 And  soon  shall  our  frailer  erection  decay ; 
 But  the  souls  that  are  builded  in  worship  and  love 
 Shall  be  temples  to  God,  everlasting  above. 
 
 THE  PROGRESS  OF  FREEDOM. 
 
 This  "  Anti-Slavery  Song  "  has  for  us  a  peculiar  interest,  not  alone  from  the  thrilling 
 spirit  of  power  and  prophecy  that  animates  it,  but  from  the  circumstance  that  it  was  Mr. 
 Ware's  last  composition  in  verse-  It  bears  the  date.  March  15,  1843.  In  its  original  form 
 it  is  longer  than  as  presented  here,  and  is  unsuited  to  a  church  hymn-book.  The  fol- 
 lowing stanzas,  taken  from  one  of  the  Collections,  are  a  part  of  the  original,  altered  aid 
 transposed,  and  thus  adapted  to  sacred  worship  :  — 
 
 OPPRESSION  shall  not  always  reign  ; 
 
 There  comes  a  brighter  day, 
 When  Freedom,  burst  from  every  chain, 
 
 Shall  have  triumphant  way. 
 Then  Right  shall  over  might  prevail, 
 And  Truth,  like  hero  armed  in  mail, 
 The  hosts  of  tyrant  wrong  assail, 
 
 And  hold  eternal  sway. 
 
 What  voice  shall. bid  the  progress  stay, 
 
 : ruth's  victorious  car? 
 What  arm  arrest  the  growing  day, 
 Or  quench  the  solar  star  ? 
 8 
 
114  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 What  reckless  soul,  though  stout  and  strong, 
 Shall  dare  bring  back  the  ancient  wrong, 
 Oppression's  guilty  night  prolong, 
 And  freedom's  morning  bar  ? 
 
 The  hour  of  triumph  comes  apace, 
 
 The  fated,  promised  hour, 
 When  earth  upon  a  ransomed  race 
 
 Her  bounteous  gifts  shall  shower. 
 Ring,  Liberty,  thy  glorious  bell ! 
 Bid  high  thy  sacred  banner  swell  ! 
 Let  trump  on  trump  the  triumph  tell 
 
 Of  Heaven's  redeeming  power. 
 
 OO^O* 
 
 WILLIAM    CULLEN    BRYANT. 
 (i794) 
 
 William  Cullen  Bryant  was  born,  Nov.  3,  1794,  at  Cummington, 
 Hampton  County,  Mass.  It  is  only  necessary  here  to  present  the  merest 
 outline  of  the  career  of  this  venerable  and  beloved  poet,  whose  name  is 
 a  household  word  in  the  homes  of  the  land.  His  father,  Peter  Bryant, 
 was  a  physician,  well-travelled  and  highly  cultured,  who  knew  how  to 
 awaken  and  call  forth  the  mental  powers  of  the  gifted  son.  The  latter, 
 before  he  was  ten  years  of  age,  wrote  lines  which  were  published  in 
 the  County  Gazette.  Other  poems,  which  he  composed  not  long  after- 
 ward, were  printed  by  his  friends  ;  and  when  he  was  only  eighteen 
 he  wrote  his  immortal  "Thanatopsis,"  which  appeared  in  the  "North 
 American  Review"  in  1817.  For  two  years  he  was  a  student  at  Wil- 
 liams College  ;  then  studied  law,  and,  first  at  Plainfield  and  next  at  Great 
 Barrington,  practised  his  profession  until  1825,  when  he  removed  to 
 New  York,  and  became  the  editor  of  the /'New  York  Review."  In 
 1S26  he  associated  himself  with  William  Coleman  in  conducting  the 
 "  Evening  Post,"  and  in  the  following  year  assumed  its  entire  editorial 
 charge.     He  has  continued  at  this  post  of  service  from  then  until  now. 
 
 The  first  volume  of  his  poems,  embracing  one  on  "  The  Ages,"  de- 
 livered before  the  Phi  Beta  Kappa  Society  at  Cambridge,  and  also  some 
 other  pieces,  was  published  in  1821.  From  1827  to  1830  he  was  one  of 
 the  editors  of  an  annual,  "  The  Talisman,"  and,  about  the  same  time, 
 
WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYAXT.  115 
 
 contributed  "Medfield"  and  the  "Skeleton's  Cave"  to  a  book  entitled 
 "Tales  of  the  Glauber  Spa."  In  1832  appeared  a  complete  edition 
 of  his  poems,  which  Washington  Irving  caused  to  be  reprinted  in  Lon- 
 don, and  which  gave  the  author  at  once  a  high  literary  reputation  in 
 England.  From  time  to  time,  during  subsequent  years,  he  visited  Eu- 
 rope, and  in  one  of  his  trips  extended  his  journey  to  the  distant  Hast, 
 giving  the  results  of  many  of  his  observations  in  numerous  letters  to  the 
 press,  which  were  afterward  republished  in  a  collected  form.  In  a  more 
 recent  visit  he  was  an  object  of  marked  attention  among  influential  cir- 
 cles in  the  Old  World.  The  fresh  volumes  of  his  poetry  and  prose,  and 
 the  handsome  and  enlarged  editions  of  his  works,  which  have  been  given  to 
 the  public  at  intervals,  through  all  the  later  years  of  his  life,  as  well  as 
 the  fine,  graceful,  classic  orations  and  speeches,  essays  and  reviews, 
 which  have  marked  the  whole  progress  of  his  literary  career,  have  been 
 too  numerous,  if  they  are  not  also  too  well  known,  to  be  recounted  here. 
 Nor  need  it  be  said  that  his  style  is  a  model  for  purity,  elegance,  and 
 strength  of  expression,  his  thought  chaste,  profound,  and  reverent,  and 
 his  imagination  of  marvellous  sweep  and  power,  while  every  play  of  his 
 fancy  or  flow  of  his  eloquence  is  restrained  and  chastened  by  the  severest 
 taste  and  by  an  instinctive  love  of  truth. 
 
 The  spirit  which  informs  Mr.  Bryant's  writings  is  in  the  man  himself. 
 There  is  a  fine  harmony  between  the  stainless  and  lofty  characters  and 
 lives,  and  all  the  beautiful  and  imperishable  productions  of  our  greatest 
 American  poets.  In  the  eldest  of  them,  as  in  the  rest,  we  see  an  un- 
 sullied soul,  the  truest  love  of  nature  and  art,  an  exquisite  yet  vital  sym- 
 pathy with  human  sorrow  and  suffering,  the  deepest  abhorrence  of 
 injustice  and  the  most  intense  devotion  to  liberty  and  right,  and  the 
 most  habitual  communion  with  the  things  that  are  unseen  and  eternal. 
 
 Dividing  his  time  between  the  busy  cares  of  his  professional  life  in 
 York  and  the  more  retired  retreat  of  his  embowered  "  old-time 
 mansion  "  in  Roslyn,  on  Long  Island,  our  poet  has  sung  many  a  sacred 
 song  that  is  sure  of  a  permanent  place  in  the  hymn-books  of  the  church. 
 From  a  little  book  which  he  printed  in  1864,  and  which  included  only 
 such  pieces  as  may  properly  be  called  hymns,  and  from  other  volumes 
 of  his  works,  we  make  the  following  selections.  The  first  two  were 
 written  for  ordination  services  more  than  fifty  years  ago. 
 
 'THE    LORD    GIVETH    WISDOM. 
 
 "\/f  IGHTY  One,  before  whose  face 
 
 Wisdom  had  her  glorious 
 When  th-e  orbs  that  people  space 
 
 Sprang  to  birth  beneath  thy  fi 
 
Il6  SONGS   OF   THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 Source  of  Truth,  whose  beams  alone 
 Light  the  mighty  world  of  mind  ! 
 
 God  of  Love,  who,  from  thy  throne, 
 Watchest  over  all  mankind  ! 
 
 Shed  on  those  who,  in  thy  name, 
 Teach  the  way  of  Truth  and  Right, 
 
 Shed  that  Love's  undying  flame, 
 Shed  that  Wisdom's  guiding  light. 
 
 "THY    WORD    IS    TRUTH." 
 
 f~\  THOU,  whose  Love  can  ne'er  forget 
 ^^^     Its  offspring,  Great  Eternal  Mind  ! 
 We  thank  thee  that  thy  truth  is  yet 
 A  sojourner  among  mankind  ; 
 
 A  light  before  whose  brightness  fall 
 The  feet  arrayed  to  tread  it  down, 
 
 A  voice  whose  strong  and  solemn  call 
 The  cry  of  nations  cannot  drown. 
 
 Thy  servants,  at  this  sacred  hour, 
 
 With  humble  prayer  thy  throne  surround, 
 
 That  here,  in  glory  and  in  power, 
 
 That  light  may  shine,  that  voice  may  sound, 
 
 Till  Error's  shades  shall  flee  away, 
 And  Faith,  descending  from  above, 
 
 Amid  the  pure  and  perfect  day, 
 Shall  bring  her  fairer  sister  Love. 
 
 The  next  three  hymns,  with  two  others  also  by  Mr.  Bryant,  were 
 written  at  the  instance  of  Miss  Sedgwick  for  a  Collection  made  in  1820 
 by  Henry  D.  Sewall  and  long  used  in  the  church  of  which  Rev.  William 
 Ware  was  formerly  the  pastor,  and  which  for  so  many  years  lyis  been 
 in  the  charge  of  Rev.  H.  W.  Bellows,  D.D. 
 
WILLIAM  CULLEX  BRYANT.  117 
 
 HIS    TENDER    MERCIES    ARE    OVER    ALL    HIS 
 WORKS." 
 
 /^LTR  Father,  to  thy  love  we  owe 
 ^">^   All  that  is  fair  and  good  below. 
 Life,  and  the  health  that  makes  life  sweet, 
 Arc  blessings  from  thy  mercy-seat. 
 
 O  Giver  of  the  quickening  rain  ! 
 O  Ripener  of  the  golden  grain  ! 
 From  thee  the  cheerful  dayspring  flows, 
 Thy  balmy  evening  brings  repose. 
 
 Thy  frosts  arrest,  thy  tempests  chase 
 The  plagues  that  waste  our  helpless  race  ; 
 Thy  softer  breath,  o'er  land  and  deep, 
 Wakes  Nature  from  her  winter  sleep. 
 
 I  deem  we  not  that  thus  alone 
 Thy  bounty  and  thy  love  are  shown  ; 
 For  we  have  learned  with  higher  praise 
 And  holier  names  to  speak  thy  ways. 
 
 In  woe's  dark  hour  our  kindest  stay, 
 Sole  trust  when  life  shall  pass  away. 
 Teacher  of  hopes  that  light  the  gloom 
 Of  Death,  and  consecrate  the  tomb. 
 
 Patient  with  headstrong  guilt  to  bear, 
 Slow  to  avenge  and  kind  to  spare, 
 Listening  to  prayer  and  reconciled 
 Full  soon  to  thy  repentant  child. 
 
 BLESSED    ARE    THEY    THAT    MOURN." 
 
 T^VEEM  not  thnt  they  are  blest  alone 
 
 Whose  d  lys  a  peaceful  tenor  keep  ; 
 The  G  >d  who  loves  our  race  has  shown 
 A  blessing  for  the  eyes  that  w< 
 
Il8  SONGS   OF   THE  LIBERAL   FAITH. 
 
 The  light  of  smiles  shall  fill  again 
 The  lids  that  overflow  with  tears, 
 
 And  weary  hours  of  woe  and  pain 
 Are  promises  of  happier  years. 
 
 Oh,  there  are  days  of  sunny  rest 
 For  every  dark  and  troubled  night ; 
 
 And  Grief  may  bide,  an  evening  guest, 
 But  Joy  shall  come  with  early  light. 
 
 And  thou,  who  o'er  thy  friend's  low  bier, 
 Dost  shed  the  bitter  drops  like  rain, 
 
 Hope  that  a  brighter,  happier  sphere 
 Will  give  him  to  thy  arms  again. 
 
 Nor  let  the  good  man's  trust  depart, 
 Though  life  its  common  gifts  deny ; 
 
 Though,  with  a  pierced  and  broken  heart, 
 And  spurned  of  men,  he  goes  to  die. 
 
 For  God  hath  marked  each  sorrowing  day, 
 And  numbered  every  secret  tear, 
 
 And  heaven's  long  age  of  bliss  shall  pay 
 For  all  his  children  suffer  here. 
 
 A  BROKEN  AND  A  CONTRITE  HEART,  O  GOD, 
 THOU  WILT  NOT  DESPISE." 
 
 f~\  GOD,  whose  dread  and  dazzling  brow 
 
 Love  never  yet  forsook  ! 
 On  those  who  seek  thy  presence  now, 
 In  deep  compassion  look. 
 
 Aid  our  weak  steps  and  eyesight  dim 
 
 The  paths  of  peace  to  find, 
 And  lead  us  all  to  learn  of  Him 
 
 Who  died  to  save  mankind. 
 
WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT.  1 19 
 
 For  many  a  frail  and  erring  heart 
 
 Is  in  thy  holy  sight, 
 And  feet  too  willing  to  depart 
 
 From  the  plain  way  of  right. 
 
 * 
 Yet,  pleased  the  humble  prayer  to  hear, 
 
 And  kind  to  all  that  live, 
 Thou,  when  thou  seest  the  contrite  tear, 
 
 Art  ready  to  forgive. 
 
 HOW   AMIABLE   ARE   THY    TABERNACLES.' 
 
 Written  for  the  dedication  of  a  church  in  Prince  Street,  New  York  City.     The  edifice 
 was  afterwards  destroyed  by  fire. 
 
 HP  HOU,  whose  unmeasured  temple. stands, 
 
 Built  over  earth  and  sea, 
 Accept  the  walls  that  human  hands 
 Have  raised,  O  God !  to  thee. 
 
 And  let  the  Comforter  and  Friend, 
 
 Thy  Holy  Spirit,  meet 
 With  those  who  here  in  worship  bend 
 
 Before  thy  mercy-seat. 
 
 May  they  who  err  be  guided  here 
 
 To  find  the  better  way, 
 And  they  who  mourn  and  they  who  fear 
 
 Be  strengthened  as  they  pray. 
 
 May  faith  grow  firm,  and  love  grow  warm, 
 
 And  hallowed  wishes  rise, 
 While  round  these  peaceful  walls  the  storm 
 
 Of  earth-born  passion  dies. 
 
120  SOjVGS  of  the  liberal  faith. 
 
 "I   WILL  SEND   THEM   PROPHETS  AND  APOSTLES." 
 
 Written,  probably,  for  some  church  in  England. 
 
 A  LL  that  in  this  wide  world  we  see, 
 
 Almighty  Father  !  speaks  of  thee  ; 
 And  in  the  darkness,  or  the  day, 
 Thy  monitors  surround  our  way. 
 
 The  fearful  storms  that  sweep  the  sky, 
 The  maladies  by  which  we  die, 
 The  pangs  that  make  the  guilty  groan, 
 Are  angels  from  thy  awful  throne. 
 
 Each  mercy  sent  when  sorrows  lower, 
 Each  blessing  of  the  winged  hour, 
 All  we  enjoy  and  all  we  love, 
 Bring  with  them  lessons  from  above. 
 
 Nor  thus  content,  thy  gracious  hand, 
 From  midst  the  children  of  the  land, 
 Hath  raised,  to  stand  before  our  race, 
 Thy  living  messengers  of  grace. 
 
 We  thank  thee  that  so  clear  a  ray 
 Shines  on  thy  straight,  thy  chosen  way, 
 And  pray  that  passion,  sloth,  or  pride, 
 May  never  lure  our  steps  aside. 
 
 "THOU,    GOD,    SEEST    ME." 
 
 Written  for  a  Collection  of  hymns  at  the  end  of  a  Sunday  School  Liturgy,  prepared  by 
 Mr.  James  Lombard,  of  Utica,  N.  Y.,  in  1859. 
 
 V\  7 HEN  this  song  of  praise  shall  cease, 
 
 Let  thy  children,  Lord,  depart 
 With  the  blessing  of  thy  peace 
 And  thy  love  in  every  heart. 
 
WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT.  121 
 
 Oh,  where'er  our  path  may  lie, 
 
 Father,  let  us  not  forget 
 That  we  walk  beneath  thine  eye, 
 
 That  thy  care  upholds  us  yet. 
 
 Blind  are  we,  and  weak,  and  frail : 
 
 Be  thine  aid  forever  near; 
 May  the  fear  to  sin  prevail 
 
 Over  every  other  fear. 
 
 THE    MOTHER'S    HYMN. 
 "  Blessed  art  thou  among  women." 
 
 Written  at  the  suggestion  of  Rev.  Samuel  Osgood,  D.D.,  and  included  in  the  service- 
 book  entitled  "'  Christian  Worship,"  which  he  and  Rev.  F.  A.  Farley,  D.D.,  compiled. 
 
 ORD,  who  ordainest  for  mankind 
 Benignant  toils  and  tender  cares, 
 We  thank  thee  for  the  ties  that  bind 
 The  mother  to  the  child  she  bears. 
 
 We  thank  thee  for  the  hopes  that  rise 
 
 Within  her  heart,  as  day  by  day 
 The  dawning  soul,  from  those  young  eyes, 
 
 Looks  with  a  clearer,  steadier  ray. 
 
 And,  grateful  for  the  blessing  given 
 With  that  dear  infant  on  her  knee, 
 
 She  trains  the  eye  to  look  to  heaven, 
 The  voice  to  lisp  a  prayer  to  thee. 
 
 Such  thanks  the  blessed  Mary  gave 
 When  from  her  lap  the  Holy  Child, 
 
 Sent  from  on  high  to  seek  and  save 
 
 The  lost  of  earth,  looked  up  and  smiled.  , 
 
 All  Gracious  !  grant  to  those  who  bear 
 A  mother's  charge,  the  strength  and  light 
 
 To  guide  the  feet  that  own  their  care 
 In  ways  of  Love,  and  Truth,  and  Right. 
 
122  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL   FAITH. 
 
 COMMUNION    HYMN. 
 
 "  Do  this  in  remembrance  of  me." 
 
 A  LL  praise  to  Him  of  Nazareth, 
 The  Holy  One  who  came, 
 For  love  of  man,  to  die  a  death 
 Of  agony  and  shame. 
 
 Dark  was  the  grave  ;  but  since  he  lay 
 
 Within  its  dreary  cell, 
 The  beams  of  heaven's  eternal  day 
 
 Upon  its  threshold  dwell. 
 
 He  grasped  the  iron  veil,  he  drew 
 
 Its  gloomy  folds  aside, 
 And  opened,  to  his  followers'  view, 
 
 The  glorious  world  they  hide. 
 
 In  tender  memory  of  his  grave 
 The  mystic  bread  we  take, 
 
 And  muse  upon  the  life  he  gave 
 So  freely  for  our  sake. 
 
 A  boundless  love  he  bore  mankind  ; 
 
 Oh,  may  at  least  a  part 
 Of  that  strong  love  descend  and  find 
 
 A  place  in  every  heart. 
 
 "THOU   HAST   PUT  ALL  THINGS  UNDER  HIS 
 FE£T." 
 
 r\  NORTH,  with  all  thy  vales  of  green ! 
 
 Oh  South,  with  all  thy  palms  ! 
 From  peopled  towns  and  fields  between 
 
 Uplift  the  voice  of  psalms. 
 Raise,  ancient  East,  the  anthem  high, 
 And  let  the  youthful  West  reply. 
 
WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT.  123 
 
 Lo  I  in  the  clouds  of  heaven  appears 
 
 God's  well-beloved  Son  ; 
 He  brings  a  train  of  brighter  years  ; 
 
 His  kingdom  is  begun. 
 He  comes  a  guilty  world  to  bless 
 With  mercy,  truth,  and  righteousness. 
 
 Oh  Father  !  haste  the  promised  hour, 
 
 When,  at  His  feet,  shall  lie 
 All  rule,  authority,  and  power, 
 
 Beneath  the  ample  sky  : 
 When  He  shall  reign  from  pole  to  pole, 
 The  Lord  of  ever)'  human  soul : 
 
 When  all  shall  heed  the  words  He  said, 
 
 Amid  their  daily  cares, 
 And,  by  the  loving  life  He  led, 
 
 Shall  strive  to  pattern  theirs  ; 
 And  He,  who  conquered  Death,  shall  win 
 The  mightier  conquest  over  Sin. 
 
 Of  the  nineteen  hymns  that  form  the  contents  of  the  small  volume  to 
 which  we  have  alluded  in  our  brief  sketch  as  having  been  printed  in  1864, 
 we  have  copied  eleven,  as  above.  The  remaining  eight  are  thus  indicated 
 by  their  first  lines,  the  occasions  for  which  they  were  written  being  also 
 given.  The  two  others  of  the  five  which  were  contributed  to  Mr. 
 Sewall's  Collection,  and  which  we  have  previously  referred  to,  are, 
 "Almighty!  hear  thy  children  raise,"  and  "When  he  who  from  the 
 scourge  of  wrong."  "Ancient  of  Days  !  except  thou  deign,"  was  writ- 
 ten for  the  dedication  of  Rev.  R.  C.  Waterston's  church,  in  Boston  ; 
 "  Lord,  from  whose  glorious  presence  came,"  at  the  request  of  a  friend, 
 Mr.  Hiram  Barney,  for  the  opening  of  an  Orthodox  Congregational 
 Church;  "Look  from  the  sphere  of  endless  day,"  for  some  Foreign 
 Mi->ionary  Anniversary.  The  last  five  hymns  in  the  little  volume  were 
 written  purposely  for  the  book  itself.  Two  of  these  were  the  last  two 
 presented  above  ;  the  other  three  are,  "As  o'er  the  cradle  of  her  Son," 
 '•  Whate'er  he  bids,  observe  and  do,"  and  "Go  forth,  O  Word  of 
 Christ  !  go  forth." 
 
 The  following  pieces,  except  the  last,  are  copied  from  a  recent  beau- 
 tiful miniature  edition  of  Mr.  Bryant's  poems,  issued  by  his  publishers, 
 D.  Appleton  &  Co.  However  familiar  they  may  be  to  our  readers,  they 
 can  ill  be  spared  from  the  present  volume. 
 
124     SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 THE  PAST. 
 
 HPHOU  unrelenting  Past ! 
 
 Strong  are  the  barriers  round  thy  dark  domain, 
 
 And  fetters,  sure  and  fast, 
 Hold  all  that  enter  thy  unbreathing  reign. 
 
 Far  in  thy  realm  withdrawn 
 Old  empires  sit  in  sullenness  and  gloom, 
 
 And  glorious  ages  gone 
 Lie  deep  within  the  shadow  of  thy  womb. 
 
 Childhood,  with  all  its  mirth, 
 Youth,  Manhood,  Age  that  draws  us  to  the  ground, 
 
 And  last,  Man's  Life  on  earth, 
 Glide  to  thy  dim  dominions,  and  are  bound. 
 
 Thou  hast  my  better  years  ; 
 Thou  hast  my  earlier  friends,  the  good,  the  kind, 
 
 Yielded  to  thee  with  tears  — 
 The  venerable  form  —  the  exalted  mind. 
 
 My  spirit  yearns  to  bring 
 The  lost  ones  back  —  yearns  with  desire  intense, 
 
 And  struggles  hard  to  wring 
 Thy  bolts  apart,  and  pluck  thy  captives  thence. 
 
 In  vain  ;  thy  gates  deny 
 All  passage  save  to  those  who  hence  depart ; 
 
 Nor  to  the  streaming  eye 
 Thou  giv'st  them  ba?ck  —  nor  to  the  broken  heart. 
 
 In  thy  abysses  hide 
 Beauty  and  excellence  unknown  ;  to  thee 
 
 Earth's  wonder  and  her  pride 
 Are  gathered,  as  the  waters  to  the  sea ; 
 
 Labors  of  good  to  man, 
 Unpublished  charity,  unbroken  faith, 
 
 Love,  that  midst  grief  began, 
 And  grew  with  years,  and  faltered  not  in  death. 
 
WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT.  125 
 
 Full  many  a  mighty  name 
 Lurks  in  thy  depths,  unuttered,  unrevered ; 
 
 With  thee  are  silent  fame, 
 Forgotten  arts,  and  wisdom  disappeared. 
 
 Thine  for  a  space  are  they  — 
 Yet  shalt  thou  yield  thy  treasures  up  at  last: 
 
 Thy  gates  shall  yet  give  way, 
 Thy  bolts  shall  fall,  inexorable  Past ! 
 
 All  that  of  good  and  fair 
 Has  gone  into  thy  womb  from  earliest  time, 
 
 Shall  then  come  forth  to  wear 
 The  glory  and  the  beauty  of  its  prime. 
 
 They  have  not  perished  —  No  ! 
 Kind  words,  remembered  voices  once  so  sweet, 
 
 Smiles,  radiant  long  ago, 
 And  features,  the  great  soul's  apparent  seat. 
 
 All  shall  come  back  ;  each  tie 
 Of  pure  affection  shall  be  knit  again  ; 
 
 Alone  shall  Evil  die, 
 And  Sorrow  dwell  a  prisoner  in  thy  reign. 
 
 And  then  shall  I  behold 
 Him,  by  whose  kind  paternal  side  I  sprung, 
 
 And  her,  who,  still  and  cold, 
 Fills  the  next  grave  —  the  beautiful  and  young. 
 
 THE    FUTURE    LIFE. 
 
 "LTOW  shall  I  know  thee  in  the  sphere  which  keeps 
 
 The  disembodied  spirits  of  the  dead, 
 When  all  of  thee  that  time  could  wither  sleeps 
 And  perishes  among  the  dust  we  tread  ? 
 
126  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 For  I  shall  feel  the  sting  of  ceaseless  pain 
 If  there  I  meet  thy  gentle  presence  not ; 
 
 Nor  hear  the  voice  I  love,  nor  read  again 
 In  thy  serenest  eyes  the  tender  thought. 
 
 Will  not  thy  own  meek  heart  demand  me  there  ? 
 
 That  heart  whose  fondest  throbs  to  me  were  given 
 My  name  on  earth  was  ever  in  thy  prayer, 
 
 And  wilt  thou  never  utter  it  in  heaven  ? 
 
 In  meadows  fanned  by  heaven's  life-breathing  wind, 
 In  the  resplendence  of  that  glorious  sphere, 
 
 And  larger  movements  of  the  unfettered  mind, 
 Wilt  thou  forget  the  love  that  joined  us  here  ? 
 
 The  love  that  lived  through  all  the  siormy  past, 
 And  meekly  with  my  harsher  nature  bore, 
 
 And  deeper  grew,  and  tenderer  to  the  last, 
 Shall  it  expire  with  life,  and  be  no  more  ? 
 
 A  happier  lot  than  mine,  and  larger  light, 
 
 Await  thee  there,  for  thou  hast  bowed  thy  will 
 
 In  cheerful  homage  to  the  rule  of  right, 
 And  lovest  all,  and  renderest  good  for  ill. 
 
 For  me,  the  sordid -cares  in  which  I  dwell 
 
 Shrink  and  consume  my  heart,  as  heat  the  scroll ; 
 
 And  wrath  has  left  its  scar  —  that  fire  of  hell 
 Has  left  its  frightful  scar  upon  my  soul. 
 
 Yet,  though  thou  wear'st  the  glory  of  the  sky, 
 Wilt  thou  not  keep  the  same  beloved  name, 
 
 The  same  fair  thoughtful  brow,  and  gentle  eye, 
 Lovelier  in  heaven's  sweet  climate,  yet  the  same  ? 
 
 Shalt  thou  not  teach  me,  in  that  calmer  home, 
 The  wisdom  that  I  learned  so  ill  in  this  — 
 
 The  wisdom  which  is  love  —  till  I  become 
 Thy  fit  companion  in  that  land  of  bliss  ? 
 
 L 
 
WILLI rAM  CULLEN  BRYANT.  \2J 
 
 THE   CONQUEROR'S    GRAVE. 
 
 TVTITHIN  this  lowly  grave  a  conqueror  lies, 
 And  yet  the  monument  proclaims  it  not, 
 Nor  round  the  sleeper's  name  hath  chisel  wrought 
 
 The  emblems  of  a  fame  that  never  dies, 
 Ivy  and  amaranth,  in  a  graceful  sheaf, 
 Twined  with  the  laurel's  fair,  imperial  leaf. 
 A  simple  name  alone. 
 To  the  great  world  unknown, 
 Is  graven  here,  and  wild-flowers,  rising  round, 
 Meek  meadow-sweet  and  violets  of  the  ground 
 Lean  lovingly  against  the  humble  stone. 
 
 Here,  in  the  quiet  earth,  they  laid  apart 
 
 No  man  of  iron  mould  and  bloody  hands, 
 Who  sought  to  wreak  upon  the  cowering  lands 
 
 The  passions  that  consumed  his  restless  heart ; 
 But  one  of  tender  spirit  and  delicate  frame, 
 Gentlest,  in  mien  and  mind, 
 Of  gentle  womankind, 
 Timidly  shrinking  from  the  breath  of  blame  : 
 One  in  whose  eyes  the  smile  of  kindness  made 
 
 Its  haunt,  like  flowers  by  sunny  brooks  in  May, 
 Yet,  at  the  thought  of  others'  pain,  a  shade 
 
 Of  sweeter  sadness  chased  the  smile  away. 
 
 Xor  deem  that  when  the  hand  that  moulders  here 
 Was  raised  in  menace,  realms  were  chilled  with  fear, 
 
 And  armies  mustered  at  the  sign,  as  when 
 Clouds  rise  on  clouds  before  the  rainy  East  — 
 Gray  captains  leading  bands  of  veteran  men 
 And  fiery  youths  to  be  the  vulture's  feast 
 Not  thus  were  waged  the  mighty  wars  that  gave 
 The  victory  to  her  who  fills  this  grave  : 
 
 Alone  her  task  was  wrought, 
 
 Alone  the  battle  fought  ; 
 Through  that  long  strife  her  constant  hope  was  staid 
 On  God  alone,  nor  locked  for  other  aid. 
 
128     SONGS  OF   THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 She  met  the  hosts  of  Sorrow  with  a  look 
 
 That  altered  not  beneath  the  frown  they  wore, 
 And  soon  the  lowering  brood  were  tamed,  and  took, 
 
 Meekly,  her  gentle  rule,  and  frowned  no  more. 
 Her  soft  hand  put  aside  the  assaults  of  wrath, 
 And  calmly  broke  in  twain 
 The  fiery  shafts  of  pain, 
 And  rent  the  nets  of  passion  from  her  path. 
 
 By  that  victorious  hand  despair  was  slain. 
 With  love  she  vanquished  hate  and  overcame 
 
 Evil  with  good  in  her  Great  Master's  name. 
 
 Her  glory  is  not  of  this  shadowy  state, 
 
 Glory  that  with  the  fleeting  season  dies  ; 
 But  when  she  entered  at  the  sapphire  gate 
 
 What  joy  was  radiant  in  celestial  eyes  ! 
 How  heaven's  bright  depths  with  sounding  welcome  rung, 
 And  flowers  of  heaven  by  shining  hands  were  flung. 
 And  He  who,  long  before, 
 Pain,  scorn,  and  sorrow  bore, 
 The  Mighty  Sufferer,  with  aspect  sweet, 
 Smiled  on  the  timid  stranger  from  his  seat ; 
 He  who  returning,  glorious,  from  the  grave, 
 Dragged  Death,  disarmed,  in  chains,  a  crouching  slave. 
 
 See,  as  I  linger  here,  the  sun  grows  low ; 
 
 Cool  airs  are- murmuring  that  the  night  is  near. 
 Oh  gentle  sleeper,  from  thy  grave  I  go 
 
 Consoled  though  sad,  in  hope  and  yet  in  fear. 
 Brief  is  the  time,  I  know, 
 The  warfare  scarce  begun  ; 
 Yet  all  may  win  the  triumphs  thou  hast  won. 
 Still  flows  the  fount  whose  waters  strengthened  thee  ; 
 
 The  victors'  names  are  yet  too  few  to  fill 
 Heaven's  mighty  roll ;  the  glorious  armory, 
 
 That  ministered  to  thee,  is  open  still. 
 
 j 
 
Arril,  1865. 
 
 WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT.  1  2Q 
 
 THE    DEATH    OF    LINCOLN. 
 
 /^\H,  slow  to  smite  and  swift  to  spare, 
 
 Gentle  and  merciful  and  just ! 
 Who,  in  the  fear  of  God,  didst  bear 
 
 The  sword  of  power,  —  a  nation's  trust ! 
 
 In  sorrow  by  thy  bier  we  stand, 
 
 Amid  the  awe  that  hushes  all, 
 And  speak  the  anguish  of  a  land 
 
 That  shook  with  honor  at  thy  fall. 
 
 Thy  task  is  done  :  the  bond  are  free  : 
 We  bear  thee  to  an  honored  grave, 
 
 Whose  proudest  monument  shall  be 
 The  broken  fetters  of  the  slave. 
 
 Pure  was  thy  life  :  its  bloody  close 
 
 Hath  placed  thee  with  the  sons  of  light, 
 
 Among  the  noble  host  of  those 
 
 Who  perished  in  the  cause  of  Right. 
 
 "RECEIVE    THY    SIGHT." 
 
 VK7HEN  the  blind  suppliant  in  the  way. 
 
 By  friendly  hands  to  Jesus  led, 
 Prayed  to  behold  the  light  of  day, 
 
 "  Receive  thy  sight,"  the  Saviour  said. 
 
 At  once  he  saw  the  pleasant  rays 
 That  lit  the  glorious  firmament  ; 
 
 And,  with  firm  step  and  words  of  praise, 
 He  followed  where  the  Master  went. 
 
 Look  down  in  pity,  Lord,  we  pray, 
 On  eyes  oppressed  by  moral  night, 
 
 And  touch  the  darkened  lids,  and  say 
 The  gracious  words,  "  Receive  thy  sight.1 
 9 
 
130  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 Then,  in  clear  daylight,  shall  we  see 
 Where  walked  the  sinless  Son  of  God ; 
 
 And,  aided  by  new  strength  from  thee, 
 Press  onward  in  the  path  he  trod. 
 
 Mr.  Bryant  has  kindly  sent  us,  as  an  additional  contribution  to  this 
 volume,  the  following  exquisite  lines,  which  were  written  about  forty 
 years  since  for  some  charitable  occasion,  and  which  he  lately  found 
 among  his  old  papers.     They  are  not  among  his  published  poems. 
 
 MUTUAL    KINDNESS. 
 
 T^EAR  ties  of  mutual  succor  bind 
 The  children  of  our  feeble  race, 
 And,  if  our  brethren  were  not  kind, 
 
 This  earth  were  but  a  weary  place. 
 We  lean  on  others  as  we  walk 
 
 Life's  twilight  path  with  pitfalls  strewn  ; 
 And  'twere  an  idle  boast  to  talk 
 
 Of  treading  that  dim  path  alone. 
 
 Amid  the  snares  misfortune  lays 
 
 Unseen,  beneath  the  steps  of  all, 
 Blest  is  the  Love  that  seeks  to  raise    . 
 
 And  stay  and  strengthen  those  who  fall  ; 
 Till,  taught-by  Him  who,  for  our  sake. 
 
 Bore  every  form  of  Life's  distress, 
 With  every  passing  year  we  make 
 
 The  sum  of  human  sorrows  less. 
 
 SAMUEL   B.   SUMNER. 
 
 0797-) 
 
 Samuel  Barrett  Sumner  was  born  in  Boston,  March  4,  1797.  He 
 was  baptized  by  Rev.  Peter  Thacher,  D.D.,  pastor  of  the  Brattle 
 Street  Church,  at  which  his  parents  continued  to  worship  until  the 
 family  removed  to  Brighton,  Mass.,  in  1811.      He  early  enjoyed  but  lim- 
 
SAMUEL  B.  SUMNER.  131 
 
 ited  advantages  for  education.  When  about  thirty-three  years  old,  he 
 visited  Louisville,  Kv.,  for  business  purposes,  and  became  a  Sunday- 
 School  teacher  and  assistant  superintendent  in  the  then  rising  Unitarian 
 Church  of  that  place,  where  his  first  pastor  was  Rev.  James  Freeman 
 Clarke,  and  his  next,  Rev.  John  H.  Heywood,  who  is  still  minister  of 
 the  society.  lie  married,  in  July,  1830,  Miss  Harriet  Farmer,  of  his 
 native  city,  whither,  at  length,  he  returned  to  live.  He  now  resides  at 
 Brookline,  but  is  connected,  in  various  important  offices,  with  the  church 
 and  Sunday  school  of  the  Bulfinch  Place  Chapel  in  Bostftn.  His  mother, 
 who  was  a  daughter  of  Judge  Barrett,  lived  to  see  four  of  her  sons  occu- 
 pving  prominent  positions  and  rendering  a  faithful  service  in  the  work 
 of  the  religious  instruction  of  the  young. 
 
 Mr.  Sumner  is  a  stencil-maker,  and  is  of  the  firm  of  Sumner  &  Sons. 
 Unknown  to  fame,  his  worth  is  fitly  set  before  us  by  these  words  of  a 
 friend  :  "  Meek  and  gentle,  he  has,  nevertheless,  borne  all  the  trials  and 
 vicissitudes  of  a  long  life  —  not  a  few  —  with  manliness  and  fortitude. 
 His  only  recreation,  so  far  as  I  know,  is  the  composition  of  a  hymn. 
 When  one  is  finished  to  his  liking,  he  sends  it  to  the  'Boston  Tran- 
 script.' Copies  are  afterward  struck  off,  and  distributed  by  him  among 
 his  pupils,  friends,  and  others,  as  opportunity  occurs.  They  are  simple, 
 sweet,  and  Christian."  Rev.  Dr.  Furness  has  described  them  as  "musi- 
 cal, tender,  and  devout." 
 
 Those  which  we  present  have  all  been  written  since  April  1,  1S64,  and 
 none  of  them,  we  believe,  are  to  be  found  in  any  collection  of  hymns  or 
 other  book.  We  copy  the  following  lines  from  the  "Home  Journal" 
 (June  iS,  1864),  of  which  N.  P.  Willis  was  then  editor.  They  are  there 
 introduced  with  these  words  :  "There  is  here  and  there,  among  what  is 
 commonly  called  fugitive  poetry,  —  verses  published  without  signa- 
 tures and  in  the  corner  of  a  newspaper,  — an  instance  of  what  is  imme- 
 diately understood  as  the  inspired  voice  of  the  devout  heart."  Two  of 
 these  clippings  the  editor  proceeds  to  give  to  the  reader  ;  and  this  one 
 of  them,  by  Mr.  Sumner,  he  characterizes  as  "  a  wonderfully  simple  and 
 truthful  expression  of  a  heart  at  prayer  :  "  — 
 
 PENITENCE. 
 
 "EjWTHER,  I  see  my  wrong: 
 
 I  have  too  often  swerved  ; 
 And  yet  thy  gifts  are  multiplied 
 As  if  they  were  deserved. 
 
 My  Father,  I  adore  ; 
 
 How  patient  thou  hast  been  ! 
 II    v  long  hast  thou  forborne  and  paused 
 
 To  chide  me  for  my  sin  ! 
 
132  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 I  do  not  feel  this  pain, 
 Because  I  fear  thy  wrath, 
 
 But  that  I  have  so  tried  thy  love 
 In  wandering  from  the  path. 
 
 I  know  that  thou  dost  love  ; 
 
 I  know  thou  canst  forgive  ; 
 I  know  it  through  my  faith  in  Him 
 
 "  Who  died  that  I  might  live." 
 
 And  though  I  am  so  weak  — 
 So  prone  to  part  from  thee  — 
 
 If  I  but  strive  to  do  thy  will, 
 
 "  The  truth  shall  make  me  free." 
 
 Then  in  the  closed  retreat, 
 And  in  the  public  mart, 
 
 Be  it  my  earnest  wish  to  be 
 Patient  and  pure  in  heart. 
 
 Oh,  let  me  not  forget 
 That  thou  art  ever  nigh  ; 
 
 That  I  can  never  hide  or  shun 
 The  notice  of  thine  eye. 
 
 I  leave  these  transient  joys  ; 
 
 They  are  not  what  they  seem  : 
 No  longer  will  I  seek  to  own 
 
 A  phantom  and  a  dream. 
 
 Dear  Father,  then  forgive  ! 
 
 I  yield  my  all  to  thee  ; 
 And  never  more  will  deviate, 
 
 If  thou  wilt  strengthen  me. 
 
 April  8,  1864. 
 
SAMUEL  D.   SUMNER.  133 
 
 The  pieces  which  follow  are  copied  mostly  from  the  printed  slips  to 
 which  reference  has  been  made  in  the  sketch  above  :  — 
 
 "ONLY    BELIEVE." 
 
 JESUS  said  with  soothing  voice. 
 
 Brother,  hast  thou  made  thy  choice, 
 Art  thou  striving  to  be  free, 
 Earnestly  to  follow  me  ? 
 
 Does  thy  heart  in  me  believe  ; 
 When  thou  sinnest  dost  thou  grieve  ? 
 Heed'st  the  Monitor  within 
 When  he  chides  thee  for  thy  sin  ? 
 
 If  thy  fellow-men  transgress 
 And  revile  thee,  dost  thou  bless  ? 
 Meekly  intercede  for  all, 
 Fearing  lest  thyself  may  fall  ? 
 
 Canst  thou  estimate  the  love 
 That  could  send  me  from  above, 
 To  reveal  a  Father's  face 
 Yearning  for  a  fallen  race  ? 
 
 Doth  such  love  thy  bosom  fill  ? 
 Meekly  yielding  to  his  will, 
 Dost  the  golden  rule  observe, 
 Others,  not  thyself,  to  serve  ? 
 
 Then  thou  dost  believe  in  me, 
 And  art  mine,  art  saved,  art  free  ! 
 Brother,  thou  art  born  again  — 
 Shalt  Eternal  Life  attain. 
 
 May  27. 
 
134  SONGS   OF   THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 THE    FAMILY   ALTAR. 
 
 "  Thy  home  is  with  the  humble,  Lord ! 
 
 The  simple  are  thy  rest, 
 Thy  lodging  is  in  childlike  hearts  ; 
 
 Thou  makest  there  thy  nest." 
 
 Faber. 
 
 T17HEN  all  things  thou  hast  made 
 
 Thy  wondrous  love  declare, 
 We  would  come  now,  our  Father  dear, 
 To  breathe  a  grateful  prayer. 
 
 In  humble  trust  we  come, 
 
 Believing  in  thy  Son, 
 Conscious  how  often  we  have  erred  — 
 
 Of  what  we've  left  undone. 
 
 Forgive  our  many  sins, 
 
 O  Father,  we  implore  ! 
 And  let  thy  holy  presence  still 
 
 These  erring  feet  restore. 
 
 To-day  we  would  be  thine, 
 
 Whate'er  our  trials  be  ; 
 Earnest  in  every  thing  to  do 
 
 Only  what  pleases  thee. 
 
 May  all  who  love  thy  truth 
 
 Unite  with  one  accord, 
 Converting  nations  in  the  name 
 
 Of  Jesus  Christ,  our  Lord. 
 
 Nov.  20,  1865. 
 
 "LOVEST   THOU    ME?" 
 
 T  AIM  to  follow  thee, 
 
 Jesus,  my  guide  and  friend  ; 
 Thou  art  my  love,  my  joy,  my  hope, 
 
 "  In  thee  my  wishes  end." 
 
Dec  20,  1S66. 
 
 SAMUEL  B.  SUMNER.  J  3  5 
 
 Thy  hand  is  on  my  head, 
 
 I  lean  upon  thy  breas 
 I  hear  thee  whisper  in  my  heart,  — 
 
 Come  and  enjoy  my  rest. 
 
 I  know  that  thou  art  mine  j 
 
 Thy  promises  are  true : 
 Dear  Jesus,  to  abide  in  thee 
 
 Doth  all  my  strength  renew. 
 
 When  I  forget  myself, 
 
 And  see  what  others  need, 
 And  comfort  all  who  ask  my  aid,  — 
 
 Then  am  I  thine  indeed. 
 
 And  when  in  all  thy  ways 
 
 My  willing  heart  accords, 
 Thou  dost  impart  a  peacefulness 
 
 No  other  source  affords. 
 
 I  would  be  more  like  thee, 
 
 "  And  give  my  follies  o'er  ;  " 
 O  Saviour,  Saviour  !  say  to  me, 
 
 "  Go  thou,  and  sin  no  more  !  " 
 
 The  "  Boston  Transcript,"  in  publishing  the  following  lines,  alludes 
 to  the  author  as  "one  whose  tenderness  of  sentiment,  childlike  devotion, 
 and  quaint  simplicity,  give  a  winning  charm  to  his  heart-inspired 
 verses  :  " — 
 
 SPRING    TIME. 
 
 u  No  earthly  father  loves  like  thee, 
 N     mother  half  so  mild  —  " 
 Faber. 
 
 IVE  me,  O  Lord,  a  thankful  heart, 
 
 G 
 
 For  all  thy  love  and  care  ; 
 The  countless  wonders  of  the  spring 
 Are  thronging  everywhere. 
 
136  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FALTH. 
 
 Thou  makest  the  warm  sun  to  shine, 
 To  give  thy  children  food  J 
 
 And  rainest  on  men  —  all  alike  — 
 The  evil  and  the  good. 
 
 The  joyous  birds  and  cheerful  flowers 
 
 Thy  constant  favor  see ; 
 And  if  thou  carest  so  for  them, 
 
 Oh,  how  much  more  for  me  ! 
 
 How  numberless  the  benefits 
 
 Thy  daily  favor  brings  ; 
 When  I  am  thine  and  thou  art  mine, 
 
 I  shall  possess  all  things  ! 
 
 Seek  first  the  heavenly  kingdom,  then 
 And  have  no  anxious  fear  ; 
 
 For  every  want  He  will  provide,  — 
 All  thy  entreaties  hear. 
 
 May  1,  1867. 
 
 DEDICATION    HYMN. 
 
 Sung  at  the  dedication  of  Rev.  S.  H.  Winkley's  New  Sunday-School   Room,  corner  of 
 Bulfinch  Place,  Boston,  Mass. 
 
 "RATHER,  accept  these  sacred  walls 
 
 Which  now  to  thee  are  given, 
 And  may  the  deeds  which  we  perforin 
 Lead  many  souls  to  heaven. 
 
 With  growing  zeal  may  we  pursue 
 
 The  works  our  Master  taught : 
 And  every  kingdom  of  the  world 
 
 Into  his  own  be  brought. 
 
 And  when,  our  work  on  earth  all  done, 
 
 We  stand  before  thy  face, 
 Continue  what  is  here  begun 
 
 In  thine  own  dwelling-place. 
 
 Dec.  22,  1869. 
 
WILLIAM  B.    O.   PEABODY.  137 
 
 '•THE   GOOD    FATHER." 
 
 '*  Whene'er  he  sees  a  smile  too  bright, 
 Or  heart  too  pure  tor  taint  or  vice, 
 He  bears  it  to  that  world  of  light, 
 To  dwell  in  paradise." 
 
 T    OVING  Tathcr,  heavenly  King, 
 Hear  the  praises  that  we  sing  \ 
 Let  the  thanks  we  offer  here 
 Ever  in  our  lives  appear. 
 
 Though  we  often  disobey, 
 Thou  dost  hear  the  prayers  we  pray  ; 
 Wilt  increase  our  heart's  desire 
 To  receive  the  sacred  fire  ! 
 
 Strength  of  him  who  did  thy  will, 
 Help  us  all  thy  law  fulfil  — 
 Do  in  all  our  deeds  and  thought 
 As  the  dear  Redeemer  taught. 
 
 Allston,  Mass.,  Aug.,  1872. 
 
 WILLIAM   B.   O.   PEABODY. 
 
 (1799-1847-) 
 
 Rev.  William  Bourne  Oliver  Pearody,  D.D.,  was  born  in  Exeter, 
 X.H.,  July  9,  1799.  Having  pursued  his  preparatory  studies  mainly  at 
 the  Academy  in  his  native  town,  he  entered  Harvard  College  when  but 
 fourteen  years  of  age,  graduating  in  1817.  After  serving  for  a  year  as 
 an  as-istant  of  Dr.  Adams  at  the  Exeter  Academy,  he  studied  Theology 
 under  Dr.  Henry  Ware,  at  the  Cambridge  Divinity  School,  and  began  to 
 preach  in  1S19.  He  was  ordained  pastor  of  the  Unitarian  Church  in 
 Springfield,  Mass.,  in  October,  1S20.  This  was  his  only  settlement,  and 
 here  he  remained  until  his  death,  May  28,  1847.  The  degree  of  D.D.  was 
 conferred  upon  him  by  Harvard  College  in  1S42.  Gentle  and  retiring  in 
 spirit,  he  was  yet  enterprising  and  active  in  many  useful  pursuits.  Fond 
 of  natural  scenery,  he  gave  much  attention  to  landscape  gardening,  and 
 was  chiefly  instrumental  in  securing  for  Springfield  its  beautiful  cemetery, 
 whose  grounds  he  assisted  in  adorning  even  with  his  own  daily  toil,  and 
 whose  consecration  address  he  wrote  and  delivered  in  his  own  happiest 
 style.     The  pages  of  the  "  Xorth  American  Review"  and  of  the  "Chris- 
 
133  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 tian  Examiner "  were  enriched  by  many  of  his  religious  and  literary 
 contributions,  and  by  others  which  he  wrote  upon  Natural  History,  a 
 branch  of  study  for  which  he  was  very  partial.  At  the  request  of  the 
 Massachusetts  Legislature,  he  prepared  a  very  useful  Report  on  the 
 Birds  of  the  Commonwealth,  and  also  furnished  for  Sparks's  "American 
 Biography"  a  memoir  of  Alexander  Wilson,  the  ornithologist.  After 
 his  death,  a  volume  was  issued  containing  a  memoir  of  him,  written  by 
 his  twin  brother,  Rev.  O.  W.  B.  Peabody,  with  selections  from  his  ser- 
 mons. In  1850  another  volume  was  published,  entitled  "Literary  Re- 
 mains," in  which  appear  not  only  some  of  his  literary  articles  and  papers 
 on  Natural  History,  but  also  selections  from  his  poems.  The  "Record 
 of  Unitarian  Worthies"  speaks  very  justly  of  Dr.  Peabody  as  "a  man 
 of  rare  accomplishments  and  consummate  virtue,  whose  whole  life  was 
 a  marked  commentary  on  the  maxim  of  Bacon,  — '  Certainly  it  is  heaven 
 upon  earth  to  have  a  man's  mind  move  in  charity,  rest  in  Providence,  and 
 turn  upon  the  poles  of  truth.'  " 
 
 Dr.  Peabody  was  possessed  of  a  lively  imagination  and  of  a  fine  lyric 
 power,  and  wrote  some  beautiful  hymns  and  other  poems  which  will  long 
 hold  their  place  in  the  best  American  Literature.  In  1823  he  published 
 a  "  Catechism  "  for  the  use  of  children,  written  in  verse,  with  some  short 
 sacred  poems  annexed.  This  little  paper-covered  book,  prepared  for 
 the  Home  and  the  Sunday  School,  has  long  been  out  of  print,  and  it  is 
 difficult  to  obtain  a  copy  of  it.  Yet  it  has  a  peculiar  interest  for  us, 
 since  its  entire  contents,  consisting  of  twenty-three  or  twenty-four 
 hymns,  were  Dr.  Peabody's  own  productions,  and  since  most  of  the  few 
 cherished  songs  of  this  poet-preacher,  which  have  found  their  way  into 
 the  Collections,  here  first  made  their  appearance.  There  are  other  pieces 
 here  which  are  so  well  worthy  of  their  author,  and  which  are  so  un- 
 known, at  least,  to  recent  hymn-books  or  compilations  of  poetry,  that  we 
 think  the  reader  will  be  glad  to  have  us  transfer  a  large  part  of  this 
 Catechism  to  our  pages.  Dr.  Peabody  prepared  and  published,  in  1835, 
 for  the  use  of  his  own  church,  what  is  usually  styled  the  "  Springfield 
 Collection  ; "  but  his  characteristic  modesty  prevented  him  from  admitting 
 any  considerable  number  of  his  own  inspired  songs,  and  even  those 
 which  he  contributed  to  the  volume  were  inserted  without  his  name. 
 
 In  copying  some  of  these  hymns,  we  give  the  questions  to  which  they 
 are  written  as  replies,  together  with  the  numbers  that  indicate  their 
 order  in  the  Catechism. 
 
 Question  I.      Who  made  you  ? 
 
 Answer. 
 The  God  in  whom  I  ever  trust 
 Hath  made  my  body  from  the  dust : 
 He  gave  me  life,  he  gave  me  breath, 
 And  he  preserves  me  still  from  death. 
 
WILLIAM  B.    O.   PEABODY.  139 
 
 Question  II.     What  else  hath  God  made! 
 
 Answer. 
 
 He  made  the  sun,  and  gave  him  light ; 
 He  made  the  moon  to  shine  by  night ; 
 He  placed  the  brilliant  stars  on  high, 
 And  leads  them  through  the  midnight  sky. 
 
 He  made  the  earth  in  order  stand, 
 He  made  the  ocean  and  the  land  ; 
 He  made  the  hills  their  places  know, 
 And  gentle  rivers  round  them  flow. 
 
 He  made  the  forests,  and  sustains 
 The  grass  that  clothes  the  fields  and  plains  : 
 He  sends  from  heaven  the  summer  showers, 
 And  makes  the  meadows  bright  with  flowers. 
 
 He  made  the  living  things  ;  with  care 
 He  feeds  the  wanderers  of  the  air  ; 
 He  gave  the  beasts  their  dens  and  caves, 
 And  fish  their  dwelling  in  the  waves. 
 
 He  called  all  beings  into  birth 
 That  crowd  the  ocean,  air,  and  earth  ; 
 And  all  in  heaven  and  earth  proclaim    ' 
 The  glory  of  his  holy  name. 
 
 Question  XI.      What  can  you  tell  me  concerning  sin  ? 
 
 Answer. 
 
 I  SIN  whenever  I  pursue 
 
 What  God  commands  me  not  to  do  ; 
 
 I  Mn  too,  if  I  ever  shun 
 
 What  he  hath  told  me  must  be  done. 
 
140  SONGS  OF   THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 Thus  have  I  often  sinned,  and  still 
 Offend  against  his  holy  will : 
 I  know  my  duty,  but  my  heart 
 Will  always  from  its  rules  depart. 
 
 Oh  !  let  me  then  confess  my  sin, 
 And  all  the  faults  I  hide  within ; 
 And  let  my  erring  heart  deplore 
 Its  follies,  and  do  wrong  no  more. 
 
 If  I  sincerely  now  repent, 
 And  trust  in  him  whom  Heaven  hath  sent, 
 He  will  remove  the  threatening  rod, 
 And  bear  me  to  the  arms  of  God. 
 
 Question  XII.      What  has  Jesus  Christ  done  for  you  ? 
 
 Answer. 
 
 For  us  God's  only  Son, 
 
 From  childhood  to  the  grave, 
 
 Was  poorer  than  the  humblest  one 
 Of  those  he  came  to  save. 
 
 For  us  he  was  distrest, 
 
 And  many  a  tear  he  shed ; 
 And  had,  in  his  few  hours  of  rest, 
 
 Not  where  to  lay  his  head. 
 
 For  us  the  Saviour  died 
 
 In  weariness  and  pain  \ 
 And  God  forbid  the  crimson  tide 
 
 Should  be  poured  out  in  vain ! 
 
 He  rested  in  the  tomb 
 
 Where  mouldering  bodies  lie, 
 
 Till  the  third  morning  broke  the  gloom, 
 And  he  ascended  high. 
 
WILLIAM  B.    0.   PEABODY,  141 
 
 Now  in  the  heaven  above 
 
 He  sits  beside  the  throne, 
 And  there  implores  h;s  Father's  love 
 
 For  those  who  wronged  his  own. 
 
 Question  XIV.       What  do  you  learn  of  the  Future  State 
 of  Happiness  1 
 
 Answer. 
 
 Oh,  when  the  hours  of  life  are  past, 
 And  death's  dark  shade  arrives  at  last, 
 It  is  not  sleep,  —  it  is  not  rest, — 
 'Tis  glory  opening  to  the  blest. 
 
 Their  way  to  heaven  was  pure  from  sin, 
 And  Christ  shall  there  receive  them  in; 
 There  each  shall  wear  a  robe  of  light 
 Like  his,  divinely  fair  and  bright. 
 
 There  parted  hearts  again  shall  meet 
 In  union  holy,  calm,  and  sweet ; 
 There  grief  find  rest,  and  never  more 
 Shall  sorrow  call  them  to  deplore. 
 
 There  angels  will  unite  their  prayers 
 With  spirits  bright  and  blest  as  theirs, 
 And  light  shall  glance  on  every  crown 
 From  suns  that  never  more  go  down. 
 
 No  Storms  shall  ride  the  troubled  air, 
 No  voice  of  passion  enter  there; 
 But  all  be  peaceful  as  the  sigh 
 Of  evening  gales  that  breathe  and  die. 
 
 For  there  the  God  of  mercy  sheds 
 
 Ili^  purest  influence  on  their  heads, 
 And  gilds  the  spirits  round  the  throne 
 With  glory  radiant  as  his  own. 
 
142  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 The  following  are  all  the  hymns  which  are  annexed  to  the  Catechism 
 proper  :  — 
 
 SPRING. 
 
 VX7HEN  brighter  suns  and  milder  skies 
 
 Proclaim  the  opening  year, 
 What  various  sounds  of  joy  arise  ! 
 What  prospects  bright  appear ! 
 
 Earth  and  her  thousand  voices  give 
 
 Their  thousand  notes  of  praise  ; 
 And  all  that  by  his  mercy  live 
 
 To  God  their  offering  raise. 
 
 Forth  walks  the  laborer  to  his  toil, 
 
 And  sees  the  fresh  array 
 Of  verdure  clothe  the  flowery  soil 
 
 Along  his  careless  way. 
 
 The  streams,  all  beautiful  and  bright, 
 
 Reflect  the  morning  sky  ; 
 And  there,  with  music  in  his  flight, 
 
 The  wild  bird  soars  on  high. 
 
 Thus,  like  the  morning,  calm  and  clear, 
 
 That  saw  the  Saviour  rise, 
 The  spring. of  heaven's  eternal  year 
 
 Shall  dawn  on  earth  and  skies. 
 
 No  winter  there,  no  shades  of  night 
 
 Profane  those  mansions  blest, 
 Where,  in  the  happy  fields  of  light, 
 
 The  weary  are  at  rest. 
 
 SUMMER. 
 
 TTOW  fast  the  rapid  hours  retire  ! 
 
 How  soon  the  spring  was  done  ! 
 And  now  no  cloud  keeps  off  the  fire 
 Of  the  bright-burning  sun. 
 
WILLIAM  B.    O.   PEA  BODY.  143 
 
 The  slender  flower-bud  dreads  to  swell 
 
 In  that  unclouded  blue, 
 And  treasures  in  its  fading  bell 
 
 The  spark  of  morning  dew. 
 
 The  stream  bounds  lightly  from  the  spring 
 
 To  cool  and  shadowy  caves, 
 And  the  bird  dips  his  weary  wing 
 
 Beneath  its  sparkling  waves. 
 
 Or  when  in  thunder  from  the  sky 
 
 The  sounding  shower  descends, 
 In  every  gale  that  passes  by 
 
 The  loaded  cornfield  bends. 
 
 Now  all  the  plants  in  bright  array 
 
 Their  little  leaves  unfold, 
 And  fruit-trees  bear  in  proud  display 
 
 Their  weight  of  living  gold. 
 
 Praise  to  the  God  whose  liberal  power 
 
 These  summer  beauties  spread  ! 
 And  praise  him  in  the  darkest  hour, 
 
 When  Nature's  self  is  dead. 
 
 AUTUMN. 
 
 /T^HE  dying  year !  the  dying  year  ! 
 The  heaven  is  clear  and  mild  ; 
 And  withering  all  the  fields  appear 
 Where  once  the  verdure  smiled. 
 
 The  summer  ends  its  short  career, 
 
 The  zephyr  breathes  farewell  ; 
 And  now,  upon  the  closing  year, 
 
 The  yellow  glories  dwell. 
 
 The  radiant  clouds  float  slow  above 
 
 The  lake's  transparent  breast ; 
 In  splendid  foliage  all  the  grove 
 
 Is  fancifully  drest. 
 
144  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 On  many  a  tree  the  autumn  throws 
 Its  brilliant  robes  of  red  ; 
 
 As  sickness  lights  the  cheeks  of  those 
 It  hastens  to  the  dead. 
 
 That  tinge  is  flattering  and  bright, 
 But  tells  of  death  like  this  ; 
 
 And  they  that  see  its  gathering  light 
 Their  lingering  hopes  dismiss. 
 
 Oh!  thus  serene  and  free  from  fear 
 Shall  be  our  last  repose  ; 
 
 Thus,  like  the  Sabbath  of  the  year, 
 Our  latest  evening  close. 
 
 WINTER. 
 
 *  I  ^HE  midnight  winds  are  sounding  loud, 
 
 The  storm  is  gathering  fast  ; 
 It  floats  upon  the  hurrying  cloud, 
 And  rides  the  rising  blast. 
 
 The  slumberer  starts  from  troubled  sleep 
 
 To  hear  the  wintry  gales  ; 
 The  seaman  on  the  threatening  deep 
 
 Collects  his  tattered  sails. 
 
 And  now  it  sweeps  o'er  earth  and  main 
 With  fierce  and  boundless  power  ; 
 
 And  snow-clouds,  following  in  its  train, 
 Send  down  their  icy  shower. 
 
 Oh  !  what  a  wreck  of  all  below 
 
 The  morning  sun  shall  see  ! 
 The  gloomy  winding-sheet  of  snow 
 
 Is  hung  on  every  tree. 
 
 How  rapidly  have  passed  the  hours 
 Since  spring  was  shining  bright, 
 
 And  all  its  paradise  of  flowers 
 Were  opening  to  the  light ! 
 
WILLIAM  B.  O.   PEABODY.  145 
 
 But  sadder  changes  than  of  years 
 
 Our  mournful  thoughts  engage: 
 We  think  upon  the  hour  of  tears, 
 When  youth  gives  place  to  age. 
 
 THE  THUNDER  STORM. 
 
 T3LACK  the  heaven  is  overcast, 
 Breathless  is  the  sultry  blast ; 
 Nature  now  its  silence  keeping, 
 Still,  as  if  the  world  were  sleeping  ; 
 Then  the  red  and  fiery  flash 
 Heralds  forth  the  angry  crash 
 Of  the  echoes  long  and  loud 
 Rolling  from  the  thunder-cloud. 
 
 Then  the  storm  pours  forth  its  power, 
 Then  comes  down  the  rattling  shower, 
 Till  the  war  of  winds  is  ended, 
 And  the  rainbow's  arch  is  bended  ; 
 Then  the  cool  airs  sweetly  breathe 
 Fragrance  on  the  world  beneath  ; 
 And  the  sun,  with  farewell  ray, 
 Smiles  upon  the  closing  day. 
 
 Thus  the  storm  of  trouble  rolls 
 On  the  Christians'  darkened  souls  : 
 All  their  brightest  hopes  are  faded, 
 All  their  souls  awhile  are  shaded, 
 Till  the  light  of  heaven  imparts 
 Comfort  to  their  sorrowing  hearts, 
 Shining  till  their  last  release 
 Bears  them  to  the  vale  of  peace. 
 
 SUNRISE. 
 
 CEE  the  streaks  of  daylight  swim 
 On  the  heaving  ocean-brim  ! 
 .  the  waves  begin  to  flow 
 With  a  warmer,  ruddier  glow. 
 
146  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH, 
 
 Now  the  gathering  lustre  shines 
 On  the  loftiest  mountain  pines, 
 And  the  far-off  village  spires 
 Redden  in  the  kindling  fires. 
 
 There  !  he  bursts  upon  the  sight, 
 
 Wrapped  in  flames,  intensely  bright ! 
 
 Milder  now  the  cool  wind  blows  ; 
 
 All  is  waking  from  repose. 
 
 Now  the  laborer's  steps  once  more 
 
 Issue  from  the  opening  door  ; 
 
 And  the  busy  echo  sounds 
 
 From  the  woods  and  rising  grounds. 
 
 God  hath  made  the  sun  to  shine,  — 
 
 Image  of  his  love  divine  : 
 
 Thus  his  rays  of  mercy  fall 
 
 Liberally  alike  on  all  ; 
 
 Thus  he  lights  our  happy  way 
 
 To  the  labor  of  the  day, 
 
 And,  when  all  our  cares  are  past, 
 
 Leads  us  up  to  heaven  at  last. 
 
 THE    AUTUMN    EVENING. 
 
 "DEHOLD  the  western  evening  light ! 
 
 It  melts  in  deepening  gloom  \ 
 So  calmly  Christians  sink  away, 
 Descending  to  the  tomb. 
 
 The  winds  breathe  low ;  the  withering  leaf 
 Scarce  whispers  from  the  tree : 
 
 So  gently  flows  the  parting  breath, 
 When  good  men  cease  to  be. 
 
 How  beautiful  on  all  the  hills 
 
 The  crimson  light  is  shed  ! 
 'Tis  like  the  peace  the  Christian  gives 
 
 To  mourners  round  his  bed. 
 
WILLIAM  B.    O.   PEA  BODY.  147 
 
 How  mildly  on  the  wandering  cloud 
 
 The  sunset  beam  is  cast ! 
 Tis  like  the  memory  left  behind, 
 
 When  loved  ones  breathe  their  last. 
 
 And  now  above  the  dews  of  night 
 
 The  yellow  star  appears  ! 
 So  faith  springs  in  the  hearts  of  those 
 
 Whose  eyes  are  bathed  in  tears. 
 
 But  soon  the  morning's  happier  light 
 
 Its  glories  shall  restore  ; 
 And  eyelids  that  are  sealed  in  death 
 
 Shall  wake  to  close  no  more. 
 
 THE    RISING    MOON. 
 
 'T^HE  moon  is  up  :  how  calm  and  slow 
 
 She  wheels  above  the  hill  ! 
 The  weary  winds  forget  to  blow. 
 And  all  the  world  lies  still. 
 
 The  way-worn  travellers  with  delight 
 
 Her  rising  brightness  see, 
 Revealing  all  the  paths  and  plains, 
 
 And  gilding  every  tree. 
 
 It  glistens  where  the  hurrying  stream 
 
 Its  little  rippling  heav 
 It  falls  upon  the  forest  shad  j, 
 
 And  sparkles  on  the  leaves. 
 
 So  once  on  Judah's  evening  hills 
 The  heavenly  lustre  spread  ; 
 
 The  gospel  sounded  from  the  blaze, 
 And  shepherds  gazed  with  dread. 
 
148  SOiYGS   OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 And  still  that  light  upon  the  world 
 Its  guiding  splendor  throws  ; 
 
 Bright  in  the  opening  hours  of  life, 
 And  brighter  at  the  close. 
 
 The  waning  moon  in  time  shall  fail 
 To  walk  the  midnight  skies  ; 
 
 But  God  hath  kindled  this  bright  light 
 With  fire  that  never  dies. 
 
 PRAYER   BEFORE    RISING. 
 
 ATY  God  !  by  thy  directing  power 
 
 The  rising  light  returns  ; 
 And  high  within  his  morning  tower 
 The  sun  serenely  burns. 
 
 Thou  faithful  Guardian  of  my  days  ! 
 
 I  owe  my  heart  to  thee  ; 
 To  thee  my  earliest  prayers  I  raise, 
 
 And  fervent  they  shall  be. 
 
 Thou  hast  preserved  my  sleeping  breath 
 
 Secure  from  harm  and  pain, 
 While  many  an  eye  was  closed  in  death, 
 
 And  shall  not  wake  again. 
 
 Thy  spirit  calmed  my  anxious  breast, 
 
 Forbidding  tears  to  flow, 
 And  wrapt  me  in  that  peaceful  rest 
 
 The  guilty  never  know. 
 
 Oh  !  thus  protect  me  till  the  last 
 
 Long  hour  of  rest  is  nigh ; 
 And  thus,  when  death's  long  sleep  is  past, 
 
 Awake  my  soul  on  high. 
 
WILLIAM  B.    O.   PEABODY.  149 
 
 PRAYER    BEFORE    SLEEPING. 
 
 "PATH  ER  :   I  thank  thee  for  thy  care 
 
 Of  all  below  the  skies  ; 
 And  I  would  raise  a  grateful  prayer 
 Before  I  close  my  eyes. 
 
 Thy  hand  hath  led  me  every  hour, 
 Till  this  day's  cares  were  past ; 
 
 And  may  the  same  unaltering  power 
 Be  with  me  to  the  last. 
 
 Sleep,  like  the  slumber  of  the  dead, 
 
 Steals  o'er  my  heavy  eye  ; 
 And  may  I  ne'er  lie  down  in  bed 
 
 Unless  prepared  to  die  ! 
 
 Let  no  dark  vision  break  my  rest, 
 Let  sad  remembrance  cease  ; 
 
 Let  sorrow  leave  my  weary  breast, 
 And  all  my  thoughts  be  peace. 
 
 I  know  thy  never-sleeping  eye 
 Can  look  creation  through  ; 
 
 Nor  all  the  darkness  of  the  sky 
 Can  hide  me  from  thy  view. 
 
 Let  me  but  feel  that  love  divine 
 
 Is  never  asked  in  vain, 
 Then  may  the  lasting  sleep  be  mine 
 
 That  never  wakes  again. 
 
 The  following  hymn  is  taken  from  G  "  Poets  and  Poetry  of 
 
 America :  "  — 
 
 HYMN    OF    NATURE. 
 
 /^OD  of  the  earth's  extended  plains  ! 
 
 The  dark,  green  fields  contented  lie  ; 
 The  mountains  rise  like  holy  towers, 
 
 Where  man  might  commune  with  the  sky  ; 
 
ISO  SOArGS   OF   THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 The  tall  cliff  challenges  the  storm 
 That  towers  upon  the  vale  below, 
 
 Where  shaded  fountains  send  their  streams 
 With  joyous  music  in  their  flow. 
 
 God  of  the  dark  and  heavy  deep  ! 
 
 The  waves  lie  sleeping  on  the  sands, 
 Till  the  fierce  trumpet  of  the  storm 
 
 Hath  summoned  up  their  thundering  bands. 
 Then  the  white  sails  are  dashed  like  foam, 
 
 Or  hurry,  trembling,  o'er  the  seas, 
 Till,  calmed  by  thee,  the  sinking  gale 
 
 Serenely  breathes,  Depart  in  peace. 
 
 God  of  the  forest's  solemn  shade  ! 
 
 The  grandeur  of  the  lonely  tree, 
 That  wrestles  singly  with  the  gale, 
 
 Lifts  up  admiring  eyes  to  thee ; 
 But  more  majestic  far  they  stand, 
 
 When  side  by  side  their  ranks  they  form, 
 To  wave  on  high  their  plumes  of  green, 
 
 And  fight  their  battles  with  the  storm. 
 
 God  of  the  light  and  viewless  air  ! 
 
 How  gloriously  above  us  springs 
 The  tented  dome  of  heavenly  blue, 
 
 Suspended  on  the  rainbow's  rings  ! 
 Each  brilliant  star,  that  sparkles  through, 
 
 Each  gilded  cloud,  that  wanders  free 
 In  evening's  purple  radiance,  gives 
 
 The  beauty  of  its  praise  to  thee. 
 
 God  of  the  rolling  orbs  above  ! 
 
 Thy  name  is  written  clearly  bright 
 In  the  warm  day's  unvarying  blaze, 
 
 Or  evening's  golden  shower  of  light ; 
 For  every  fire  that  fronts  the  sun, 
 
 And  every  spark  that  walks  alone 
 Around  the  utmost  verge  of  heaven, 
 
 Were  kindled  at  thy  burning  throne. 
 
WILLIAM  B.   O.   PEA  BOD  Y  151 
 
 God  of  the  world  !  the  hour  must  come, 
 
 And  nature's  self  to  dust  return  ; 
 Her  crumbling  altars  must  decay  ; 
 
 Her  incense-fires  shall  cease  to  burn  : 
 But  still  her  grand  and  lovely  scenes 
 
 Have  made  man's  warmest  praises  flow  ; 
 For  hearts  grow  holier  as  they  trace 
 
 The  beauty  of  the  world  below. 
 
 The  last  hymn  which  we  give  from  Dr.  Peabody  appears  in  many  of 
 the  Collections  :  — 
 
 WHO    IS    THY    NEIGHBOR? 
 
 "VXTHO  is  thy  neighbor?     He  whom  thou 
 
 Hast  power  to  aid  and  bless  ; 
 Whose  aching  heart  or  burning  brow 
 Thy  soothing  hand  may  press. 
 
 Thy  neighbor  ?     'Tis  the  fainting  poor, 
 
 Whose  eye  with  want  is  dim  ; 
 Oh,  enter  thou  his  humble  door, 
 
 With  aid  and  peace  for  him. 
 
 Thy  neighbor  ?     He  who  drinks  the  cup 
 When  sorrow  drowns  the  brain  : 
 
 With  words  of  high,  sustaining  hope, 
 Go  thou  and  comfort  him. 
 
 Thy  neighbor  ?     'Tis  the  weary  slave, 
 
 Fettered  in  mind  and  limb  ; 
 He  hath  no  hope  this  side  the  grave  ; 
 
 Go  thou  and  ransom  him. 
 
 Thy  neighbor  ?     Pass  no  mourner  by ; 
 
 Perhaps  thou  canst  redeem 
 A  breaking  heart  from  misery  ; 
 
 Go  share  thy  lot  with  him. 
 
152  SONGS   OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 OLIVER    W.    B.    PEABODY. 
 (1799-1847.) 
 
 Rev.  Oliver  William  Bourne  Peabody  was  born  in  Exeter,  N.H., 
 July  9,  1799,  and  was  a  twin-brother  of  Rev.  W.  B.  O.  Peabody,  whose 
 story  and  hymns  we  have  given  above,  and  to  whom,  in  respect  of  looks, 
 voice,  manner,  and  quality  of  mind  and  character,  he  had  a  most  remark- 
 able similarity.  Having  graduated  at  Harvard  College  in  1817,  he  studied 
 law,  and  then  practised  his  profession  at  Exeter  for  some  years,  during 
 which  time  he  also  edited  the  "Rockingham  Gazette  and  Exeter  News- 
 Letter."  In  1822  he  removed  to  Boston,  where,  with  Alexander  H.  Everett, 
 his  brother-in-law,  he  engaged  in  editing  the  "  North  American  Review," 
 and  where  he  assisted  in  conducting  the  "  Boston  Daily  Advertiser."  In 
 1842  he  was  appointed  Professor  of  English  Literature  in  Jefferson  Col- 
 lege, Louisiana,  having  gone  thither  for  the  recovery  of  his  health,  which 
 had  become  much  impaired.  Returning  once  more  to  Massachusetts,  in 
 fulfilment  of  his  long-cherished  desire  to  enter  the  ministry,  he  was 
 licensed  to  preach  by  the  Boston  Association  in  1845,  and  soon  became 
 the  minister  of  the  Unitarian  Church  in  Burlington,  Vt.,  where  he  died, 
 July  5,  1847. 
 
 The  following  lines,  which  are  found  in  various  compilations,  are 
 copied  from  Bulfinch's  "  Harp  and  Cross  :  "  — 
 
 LINES. 
 
 (^\H,  who  that  has  gazed,  in  the  stillness  of  even, 
 ^^^   On  the  fast-fading  hues  of  the  West, 
 Has  not  seen  afar,  in  the  bosom  of  heaven, 
 
 Some  bright  little  mansion  of  rest, 
 And  mourned  that  the  path  to  a  region  so  fair 
 
 Should  be  shrouded  with  sadness  and  fears,  — 
 That  the  night-winds  of  sorrow,  misfortune,  and  care 
 Should  sweep  from  the  deep-rolling  waves  of  despair, 
 
 To  darken  this  cold  world  of  tears  ? 
 
 And  who  that  has  gazed  has  not  longed  for  the  hour 
 
 When  misfortune  for  ever  shall  cease  ; 
 And  Hope,  like  the  rainbow,  unfold  through  the  shower 
 
 Her  bright-written  promise  of  peace  ? 
 And  oh  !  if  that  rainbow  of  promise  may  shine 
 
 On  the  last  scene  of  life's  wintry  gloom, 
 May  its  light  in  the  moment  of  parting  be  mine  ; 
 I  ask  but  one  ray  from  a  source  so  divine, 
 
 To  brighten  the  vale  of  the  tomb. 
 
FRANCIS  BROWN.  153 
 
 FRANCIS     BROWN. 
 (1802.) 
 
 Francis  Brown  was  born  in  Lexington,  Mass.,  Aug.  29,  1S02,  and 
 was  the  son  of  James  and  Pamela  (Munroe)  Brown.  His  paternal  grand- 
 father was  one  of  the  wounded  "  Minute  Men  "  in  the  Battle  of  Lexing- 
 ton, and  his  grandfather  on  the  maternal  side  was  an  officer  in  the  Army 
 of  the  Revolution,  and  was  killed  in  the  battle  at  Monmouth.  Having 
 received  his  early  education  at  the  schools  of  his  native  town,  he  re- 
 moved, in  1S22,  to  Boston,  where  at  length  he  became  General  State 
 Inspector,  afterward  engaged  in  business,  and,  still  later,  devoted  him- 
 self more  exclusively  to  the  management  and  care  of  the  property  and 
 interests  of  the  widow  and  orphan.  Like  his  friend  Lewis  G.  Pray,  Esq., 
 he  served  his  fellow-citizens  at  various  times,  and  in  some  cases  for 
 many  successive  terms,  as  a  member  of  the  Common  Council,  of  the 
 Board  of  Education,  and  of  the  State  Legislature.  But  especially  was 
 he  associated  with  Mr.  Pray  in  Sunday  school  work.  Like  him,  he  was 
 an  agent  of  the  Sunday  School  Society.  For  thirty  years  they  were  to- 
 gether teachers  or  superintendents  of  the  Sunday  school  of  the  Twelfth 
 Congregational  Society  in  Boston,  and  for  the  greater  part  of  that  time 
 were  prominent  officers  of  the  church.  In  connection  with  his  much- 
 loved  labors  for  the  young,  Mr.  Brown  prepared  and  published,  under 
 the  title  of  "Pathway  of  the  Saviour,"  a  series  of  lessons  on  the  history 
 and  journeyings  of  Christ.  At  the  request  of  his  associates,  he  wrote, 
 and  afterward  printed,  an  "  Anniversary  Poem,"  and  also,  from  time  to 
 time,  hymns  for  special  occasions,  some  of  which  have  been  adopted  for 
 wider  use.  He  contributed  several  to  Mr.  Pray's  Sunday  School  Hymn- 
 Bowk,  of  1S44,  one  of  which,  "Rural  Celebration,"  we  give  below.  Other 
 hymn  and  service  books  may  have  since  been  published  better  suited  to 
 the  demands  of  a  later  period ;  but  a  large  measure  of  gratitude  and 
 honor  is  due  to  those  who  gave  the  first  impulse  to  this  kind  of  service 
 long  years  ago,  and  who,  amid  the  daily  toils  of  business  life,  breathed 
 forth  not  a  few  of  the  first  acceptable  songs  that  were  written  amongst 
 us  for  the  children  in  our  churches. 
 
 Mr.  Brown  married,  in  1833,  C.  Matilda  Kuhn,  daughter  of  the  late 
 John  Kuhn,  Esq.,  of  Boston.  One  of  their  two  children  survives, 
 Francis  Henry  Brown,  M.D.,  a  practising  physician  in  that  city.  Of  the 
 father,  a  friend  writes  to  us  :  "  Mr.  B.  is  now  a  resident  at  the  south 
 part  of  the  city,  where,  in  the  bosom  of  a  devoted  family,  he  enjoys  the 
 serenity  and  satisfactions  of  a  well-spent  life." 
 
154  SONGS  OF   THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 RURAL   CELEBRATION. 
 
 OUR  Father,  Nature's  God  ! 
 
 At  whose  commanding  nod 
 
 These  hills  uprose : 
 Each  breeze  of  fragrant  air, 
 These  buds  and  flowers  so  rare, 
 
 Thy  love  disclose. 
 
 We  come  to  taste  that  love, 
 Which  flows  from  thee  above, 
 
 On  all  around  ; 
 Our  spirits  full  of  glee, 
 Panting  for  liberty, 
 Seeking,  in  scenes  so  free, 
 The  joy  we've  found. 
 
 Aid  us,  Great  God,  to  be 
 True  to  ourselves  and  thee, 
 
 Where'er  we  go ; 
 And  on  whatever  page 
 We  read  from  youth  to  age, 
 Let  us  with  zeal  engage, 
 
 Thy  will  to  know. 
 
 And  when  the  fields  of  heaven 
 Are  to  the  faithful  given, 
 
 In  joy  to  roam;  — 
 Oh,  then,  the  blissful  throng 
 May  we  be  found  among, 
 Raising  the  grateful  song 
 
 Of  praise  —  at  home  ! 
 
 HYMN. 
 
 For  the  ordination  of  Rev.  Fiske  Barrett  as  pastor  of  the  First  Church  at  Lexington, 
 Sept.  s,  1849. 
 
 "DARENT  of  souls  !  all  tribes  depend 
 
 On  thee,  their  Father  and  their  Friend  : 
 Thy  love  has  here  for  ages  run, 
 With  ample  flow,  from  sire  to  son. 
 
LOUISA    J  AXE  HALL.  155 
 
 When  trials  came,  the  scene  around 
 Was  made  to  Freedom  sacred  ground  j 
 Let  Freedom  still  her  sway  maintain, 
 And  o'er  the  mind  and  heart  here  reign. 
 
 Thy  servant  comes,  Parent  of  Good  ! 
 T6  stand  where  holy  men  have  stood ; 
 Grant  him,  with  theirs,  thy  Spirit  pure,  — 
 Then  shall  his  words  and  works  endure. 
 
 Here  may  he  teach  as  Christ  once  taught, 
 And  utter  none  but  Christ-like  thought ; 
 Long  may  his  life  continual  prove 
 A  fount  of  peace,  and  truth,  and  love. 
 
 To  old  and  young,  to  sad  and  gay, 
 Oh,  let  him  be  the  joy  and  stay  ; 
 Until  through  virtue's  path  are  given 
 The  view,  the  hope,  the  bliss  of  heaven. 
 
 LOUISA    JANE    HALL. 
 
 (1802.) 
 
 Mrs.  Louisa  Jane  Hall,  daughter  of  John  Park,  a  physician,  was 
 born  in  Xewburyport,  Mass.,  -Feb.  2,  1S02.  When  she  was  about 
 two  years  of  age,  her  father  abandoned  his  profession,  and  removed  to 
 Boston,  where  he  edited  the  "  Repertory,"  a  leading  Federal  journal. 
 When  she  was  in  her  tenth  year,  he  opened  a  school  for  young  ladies, 
 partly  that  he  might  himself  have  a  better  opportunity  of  directing  her 
 education.  This  school  continued  for  a  long  time,  and  the  daughter 
 remained  in  it  until  she  was  seventeen,  diligently  improving  the  advan- 
 tages she  enjoyed.  At  the  age  of  twenty,  she  began  to  publish  poems 
 anonymously  in  the  "  Literary  Gazette,"  and  other  periodicals.  The  first 
 half  of  "Miriam,"  a  dramatic  poem,  was  written  in  1S25.  Encouraged 
 by  some  friends  who  heard  her  read  it  at  a  small  literary  party,  she 
 finished  it  during  the  following  year,  and  published  it  in  1S27,  when  it 
 was  received  by  the  public  with  much  favor.  Griswold  says  of  this  pro- 
 duction, in  his  "  Female  Poets  of  America  :  "  "The  subject  is  one  of  the 
 finest  in  the  annals  of  the  human  race,  but  one  which  has  never  been 
 
156  SONGS    OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 treated  with  a  more  just  appreciation  of  its  nature  and  capacities.  It  is 
 the  first  great  conflict  of  the  Master's  Kingdom,  after  its  full  establish- 
 ment, with  the  kingdoms  of  this  world.  It  is  Christianity  struggling 
 with  the  first  persecution  of  power,  philosophy,  and  the  interests  of 
 society." 
 
 In  183 1  Dr.  Park  moved  to  Worcester,  where  for  four  or  five  years 
 the  daughter's  eyesight  was  much  impaired,  and  the  father  was  accus- 
 tomed to  read  to  her,  and  thus  prepare  her  to  write  an  historical  tale, 
 in  prose,  "Joanna  of  Naples,"  published  in  1838,  and  also  a  biographi- 
 cal sketch  of  Elizabeth  Carter,  the  English  authoress.  She  was  mar- 
 ried, Oct.  1,  1840,  to  Rev.  Edward  B.  Hall,  of  Providence,  R.I.,  long 
 the  esteemed  and  beloved  minister  of  the  First  Unitarian  Church  of 
 that  city.  Her  husband  died  in  1866,  and  the  wife,  having  continued  her 
 residence  among  his  people  until  1872,  decided,  on  the  day  when  she 
 was  seventy  years  of  age,  to  remove  to  Boston  to  live  among  the  friends 
 of  her  earlier  years,  hard  as  it  was  to  leave  the  warm  hearts  and  sacred 
 associations  that  bound  her  to  the  beautiful  city  of  her  adoption. 
 
 During  a  large  part  of  her  life,  she  has  contributed  jiumerous  writings 
 in  prose  and  poetry,  chiefly  of  a  religious  character,  to  the  papers  and 
 magazines.  Among  these  are  many  very  excellent  hymns,  some  of 
 which  may  be  seen  in  various  church  collections,  or  other  compilations. 
 Only  a  very  few  of  these,  however,  are  included  in  a  volume,  which, 
 under  the  title  of  "Verse  and  Prose,"  she  gave  to  the  press  in  1850. 
 
 The  two  pieces  which  immediately  follow  have  been  published 
 before :  — 
 
 WAKING    DREAMS. 
 
 /^F  idle  hopes  and  fancies  wild, 
 
 O  Father,  .dispossess  thy  child  ; 
 Teach  me  that  wasted  thought  is  sin, 
 Teach  me  to  rule  this  world  within. 
 
 While  waking  dreams  the  mind  control, 
 There  is  no  growth  in  this  poor  soul ; 
 And  visions  hold  me  back  from  deeds, 
 And  earth  is  dear,  and  heaven  recedes. 
 
 Oh,  with  one  flash  of  heavenly  light 
 Rouse  me,  although  with  pain  and  fright ; 
 Show  me  the  sin  of  wasted  powers, 
 Scourge  me  from  useless,  dreaming  hours. 
 
LOUISA    JANE  HALL.  157 
 
 GROW  NOT   OLD. 
 
 "VTEVER,  my  heart,  wilt  thou  grow  old  ! 
 
 My  hair  is  white,  my  blood  runs  cold, 
 And  one  by  one  my  powers  depart, 
 But  youth  sits  smiling  in  my  heart. 
 
 Downhill  the  path  of  age  !  oh,  no  ; 
 Up,  up  with  patient  steps  I  go  ; 
 I  watch  the  skies  fast  brightening  there, 
 I  breathe  a  sweeter,  purer  air. 
 
 Beside  my  road  small  tasks  spring  up, 
 Though  but  to  hand  the  cooling  cup, 
 Speak  the  true  word  of  hearty  cheer, 
 Tell  the  lone  soul  that  God  is  near. 
 
 Beat  on,  my  heart ;  and  grow  not  old  ! 
 And  when  thy  pulses  all  are  told, 
 Let  me,  though  working,  loving  still, 
 Kneel  as  I  meet  my  Father's  will. 
 
 The  following  pieces  have  not  before  been  published:  — 
 
 THE    LORD'S    PRAYER. 
 
 "\\7HEX  Jesus  trod  by  thy  blue  sea, 
 
 How  blest  wert  thou,  O  Galilee ! 
 While  there  he  walked  his  gracious  way, 
 And  taught  us  how  to  live,  and  pray. 
 
 In  sweet  and  solemn  tones  his  prayer 
 Still  lingers  on  the  waving  air  ; 
 Where  suns  may  rise,  or  suns  may  set, 
 All  wants  in  that  one  prayer  are  met. 
 
1 58     SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 From  lips  of  childish  innocence, 
 
 From  weary  age  with  failing  sense, 
 
 Still  mounts  to  Heaven  that  wondrous  prayer, 
 
 To  find  a  loving  "  Father  "  there. 
 
 The  listening  stars  more  brightly  shine, 
 The  morning  glows  with  love  divine, 
 When  human  hearts,  in  pain  or  ease, 
 Use  those  dear  words  on  bended  knees. 
 
 TRUE   PRAYER. 
 
 1VTO  words  of  labored  prayer  I  know, 
 
 I  cannot  seek  my  Father  so ; 
 It  gushes  up  in  sudden  hours, 
 As  sing  the  birds,  as  bloom  the  flowers, 
 Unconscious  all  of  what  they  do, 
 To  happy  natures  only  true. 
 
 And  is  it  prayer  ?  or  is  it  praise  ? 
 
 I  only  know,  in  loving  ways 
 
 When  joy  and  sorrow  touch  the  springs, 
 
 To  thee  my  spirit  inly  sings, 
 
 And  thanks  thee  for  each  granted  grace, 
 
 And  humbly  asks  to  see  thy  face. 
 
 Away  from  forms  I  needs  must  turn  ; 
 No  prayer  have  I,  that  I  must  learn  ; 
 No  duty  prayer  achieved  at  length, 
 No  prayer  except  for  needed  strength  ; 
 I  ask  but  help  to  love  thee  more, 
 And  thy  dear  Will  in  peace  adore. 
 
 SERVICE    IN    THE   HEREAFTER. 
 
 T  WOULD  my  work  were  better  done  ; 
 
 I  would  it  were  but  just  begun  ; 
 For,  listening  where  I  waiting  stand, 
 Comes  music  from  the  Better  Land. 
 
1 1  'IL  LI  A  M  HEXR  Y  FUR  NESS.  1 5  9 
 
 Oh,  busy  hand,  and  heart,  and  brain, 
 Why  have  ye  toiled  so  long  in  vain  ? 
 I  feel  that  unknown  world  so  near  ! 
 And  yet  my  spirit  knows  no  fear. 
 
 For  longer  life  I  will  not  pray, 
 
 I  will  not  ask  another  day  ; 
 
 For  Thou,  dear  Father,  even  yet, 
 
 New  chance  may  give,  new  tasks  may  set. 
 
 Beyond  the  grave,  to  thee  more  true, 
 Oh,  give  me  still  thy  work  to  do  ; 
 The  power  to  serve  Thou'lt  surely  spare ; 
 Shall  not  thy  service  wait  me  there  ? 
 
 WILLIAM    HENRY    FURNESS. 
 
 (1802.) 
 
 Rev.  William  II.  Flrness,  D.D.,  was  born  in  Boston,  April  20,  1802. 
 Having  received  his  early  education  at  the  Boston  Latin  School,  he 
 entered  Harvard  College,  graduating  in  1820.  He  graduated  at  the 
 Theological  School,  at  Cambridge,  in  1823,  and  was  ordained  pastor  of 
 the  First  Congregational  Unitarian  Church  of  Philadelphia,  in  January, 
 1825.  He  is  still  the  minister  of  that  society,  having  held  the  position 
 uninterruptedly  for  half  a  century.  During  his  long  career  of  useful- 
 ness, he  has  been  a  prominent  and  earnest  advocate  of  Freedom  and 
 Peace  ;  has  been  distinguished  in  the  higher  walks  of  literature,  and  has 
 devoted  himself  to  a  most  faithful  study  of  the  Gospels,  writing  numer- 
 ous magazine  articles,  publishing  many  pamphlet  discourses,  and  giving 
 to  the  press  many  volumes,  upon  the  varied  subjects  and  interests  which 
 have  thus  engaged  his  mind.  His  productions  all  witness  to  his  com- 
 manding ability,  thorough  scholarship,  classic  eloquence,  and  abounding 
 spirit  of  pieLy  and  humanity. 
 
 1 1  is  theological  works  are:  "Remarks  on  the  Four  Gospels,"  1836 
 (London  editions,  1836  and  1851)  ;  "Jesus  and  his  Biographers,"  1S3S  ; 
 ry  of  Jesus,"  1850;  "Thoughts  on  the  Life  and  Character  of 
 Jesus  of  Nazareth,"  1S59  ;  "  The  Veil  Partly  Lifted,"  1864  ;  a  Transla- 
 tion, with  Introduction  and  Xotes,  in  two  volumes,  of  Schenkel's  "Char- 
 acter of  Jesus  Portrayed,"  1S66 ;  "The  Unconscious  Truth  of  the  Four 
 Gospels,"  1S6S  ;  "Jesus,"  1S71.  Some,  at  least,  of  these  books,  have 
 passed  through  successive  editions,  and  no  small  proportion  of  them  are 
 out  of  print. 
 
160  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 Among  the  large  number  of  his  pamphlet  treatises  or  discourses  of  a 
 doctrinal  or  critical  character,  or  of  occasional  or  philanthropic  interest, 
 may  be  mentioned  one  on  the  "Right  of  Property  in  Man,"  1859 ;  "Put 
 up  thy  Sword,"  a  sermon  advocating  the  Gospel  of  Peace,  delivered 
 before  Theodore  Parker's  Society  in  Boston,  i860 ;  "  Ecclesiastical 
 Organizations,"  1865  ;  "  Remarks  on  Renan's  Life  of  Jesus,"  1865  > 
 "The  Authority  of  Jesus,"  1867;  "Jesus  and  the  Gospels,"  1872; 
 "  Faith  in  Christ,"  1873 ;  and  "  Recollections  upon  the  Forty-eighth 
 Anniversary,"  1873. 
 
 He  published  a  volume  of  Prayers,  entitled  "Domestic  Worship," 
 (second  edition)  in  1850,  and  a  volume  of  Sermons,  in  1855.  In  the  last 
 part  of  the  former  are  six  very  fine  hymns  of  his  own  composition.  He 
 has  not  only  written  beautiful  hymns  of  his  own,  but  has  translated 
 many  fine  ones  from  the  German.  Many  years  ago  he  published  a 
 volume  of  Translations  by  himself  and  others,  entitled  "Gems  of  Ger- 
 man Verse,"  a  new  edition  of  which  appeared  in  1859 ;  and,  in  1856, 
 another  of  prose  Translations,  "Julius,  and  other  Tales  from  the  Ger- 
 man." For  three  years  he  edited  a  Philadelphia  annual,  which  bore  the 
 name  of  "The  Diadem."  The  pages  of  the  "Christian  Examiner,"  the 
 "  Monthly  Magazine,"  and  other  periodicals,  have  long  been  enriched 
 by  his  theological,  religious,  and  literary  articles.  He  received  the 
 degree  of  D.D.  from  Harvard  College  in  1847. 
 
 Dr.  Furness  has  been  habitually  averse  to  participation  in  organized 
 ecclesiastical  or  sectarian  movements  or  action  ;  but  he  has  silently,  by 
 his  writings,  exerted  a  wide  and  deep  influence  on  the  thought  and  life 
 of  the  Liberal  Church.  His  profound  reverence  for  the  character  of 
 Christ,  and  his  constant  teaching  that  therein  is  revealed  the  very  spirit 
 and  essence  of  Christianity,  present  the  most  marked  feature  of  his  min- 
 istry of  the  Word  ;  while  no  Amei-ican  preacher  has  more  intelligently 
 and  lovingly  studied  and  unfolded  the  internal  evidence  of  the  genuine- 
 ness and  substantial  credibility  of  the  gospel  records,  more  unflinchingly 
 and  faithfully  applied  their  leSsons  and  truths  to  the  sins  and  evils  of 
 our  time,  or  more  consistently  and  beautifully  exemplified,  in  his  own 
 spirit  and  work,  the  virtues  and  graces  which  they  enjoin  and  inspire, 
 than  has  he. 
 
 The  following  six  hymns  are  the  ones  to  which  reference  has  been 
 made,  as  being  appended  to  the  Prayers  in  his  volume  of  "Domestic 
 Worship  "  :  — 
 
 THE    SOUL   PANTING   AFTER   GOD. 
 
 "  As  the  hart  panteth  after  the  water-brooks,  so  panteth  my  soul  after  thee,  O  God." 
 
 TTERE  in  a  world  of  doubt, 
 
 A  sorrowful  abode, 
 O,  how  my  heart  and  flesh  cry  out 
 For  thee,  the  living  God  ! 
 
WILLIAM  HENRY  FURNESS.  l6l 
 
 As  for  the  water-brooks 
 
 The  hart  expiring  pants, 
 So  for  my  God  my  spirit  looks, 
 
 Yea,  for  his  presence  faints. 
 
 I  know  thy  joys,  O  Earth, 
 
 The  sweetness  of  thy  cup  ; 
 Oft  have  I  mingled  in  thy  mirth, 
 
 And  trusted  in  thy  hope. 
 
 But  ah  !  how  woes  and  fears 
 
 These  hollow  joys  succeed  ! 
 That  cup  of  mirth  is  mixed  with  tears, 
 
 That  hope  is  but  a  reed. 
 
 What  have  I  then  below, 
 
 Or  what  but  thee  on  high  ? 
 Thee,  thee,  O  Father,  would  I  know, 
 
 And  in  thee  live  and  die ! 
 
 MORNING. 
 
 TN  the  morning  I  will  raise 
 
 To  my  God  the  voice  of  praise 
 With  his  kind  protection  blest, 
 Sweet  and  deep  has  been  my  rest. 
 
 In  the  morning  I  will  pray 
 For  his  blessing  on  the  day  ; 
 What  this  day  shall  be  my  lot, 
 Light  or  darkness,  know  I  not. 
 
 Should  it  be  with  clouds  o'ercast, 
 Clouds  of  sorrow,  gathering  fast, 
 Thou,  who  givest  light  divine, 
 Shine  within  me,  Lord,  oh,  shine  ! 
 ii 
 
1 62  SOATGS   OF   THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 Show  me,  if  I  tempted  be, 
 How  to  find  all  strength  in  thee, 
 And  a  perfect  triumph  win 
 Over  every  bosom  sin. 
 
 Keep  my  feet  from  secret  snares, 
 Keep  my  eyes,  O  God,  from  tears, 
 Every  step  thy  grace  attend, 
 And  my  soul  from  death  defend  ! 
 
 Then,  when  fall  the  shades  of  night, 
 All  within  shall  still  be  light ; 
 Thou  wilt  peace  around  diffuse, 
 Gently  as  the  evening  dews. 
 
 EVENING. 
 
 C  LOWLY  by  thy  hand  unfurled, 
 
 Down  around  the  weary  world 
 Falls  the  darkness.     Oh,  how  still 
 Is  the  working  of  thy  will  ! 
 
 Mighty  Maker  !     Here  am  I, 
 Work  in  me  as  silently ; 
 Veil  the  day's  distracting  sights, 
 Show  me  heaven's  eternal  lights. 
 
 From  the  darkened  sky  come  forth 
 Countless  stars.     A  wondrous  birth  ! 
 So  may  gleams  of  glory  dart 
 From  this  dim  abyss,  my  heart. 
 
 Living  worlds  to  view  be  brought 
 In  the  boundless  realms-  of  thought ; 
 High  and  infinite  desires, 
 Flaming  like  those  upper  fires. 
 
 Holy  Truth,  Eternal  Right, 
 Let  them  break  upon  my  sight ; 
 Let  them  shine,  serene  and  still, 
 And  with  light  my  being  fill. 
 
WILLIAM  HENRY  FURNESS.  163 
 
 Thou,  who  dwellest  there,  r  kn 
 Dwellest  here  within  me.  too; 
 May  the  perfect  love  of  God, 
 Here,  as  there,  be  shed  abroad. 
 
 Let  my  soul  attuned  be 
 
 To  the  heavenly  harmony, 
 
 Which,  beyond  the  power  of  sound, 
 
 Fills  the  Universe  around. 
 
 PENITENTIAL. 
 
 DICHLY,  O  richly,  have  I  been 
 
 Blefct,  gracious  Lord,  by  thee  ; 
 And  morning,  noon,  and  night,  thou  hast 
 Preserved  me  tenderly. 
 
 Why  shouldst  thou  thus  take  care  of  me, 
 
 A  weak  and  sinful  man, 
 Who  have  refused  to  render  thee 
 
 The  little  that  I  can  ? 
 
 The  love,  which  thou  alone  canst  claim, 
 
 To  idols  I  have  given  ; 
 And  I  have  bound  to  earth  the  hopes 
 
 That  know  no  home  but  heaven. 
 
 Unworthy  to  be  called  thy  son, 
 
 I  come  with  shame  to  the* 
 Father,  O  more  than  Father  thou 
 
 Hast  always  been  to  me  ! 
 
 For  ever  blessed  be  thy  name 
 
 For  all  that  thou  hast  done  ! 
 That  thou  wilt  pardon  me,  I  know 
 
 Through  Jesus  Christ  thy  Son. 
 
1 64  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL   FAITH. 
 
 Help  me  to  break  the  heavy  chains 
 The  world  has  round  me  thrown, 
 
 And  know  the  glorious  liberty 
 Of  an  obedient  son. 
 
 That  I  may  henceforth  heed  whate'er 
 Thy  voice  within  me  saith, 
 
 Fix  deeply  in  my  heart  of  hearts 
 A  principle  of  faith. 
 
 Faith,  that,  like  armor  on  my  soul, 
 
 Shall  keep  all  evil  out, 
 More  mighty  than  an  angel  host, 
 
 Encamped  round  about. 
 
 THE   SOUL. 
 
 "VXTHAT  is  this  that  stirs  within, 
 Loving  goodness,  hating  sin, 
 Always  craving  to  be  blest, 
 Finding  here  below  no  rest  ? 
 
 Nought  that  charms  the  ear  or  eye 
 Can  its  hunger  satisfy  ; 
 Active,  restless,  it  would  pierce 
 Through  the  outward  universe. 
 
 What  is  it  ?  and  whither  ?  whence  ? 
 This  unsleeping,  secret  sense, 
 Longing  for  its  rest  and  food 
 In  some  hidden,  untried  good  ? 
 
 'Tis  the  soul  !     Mysterious  name  ! 
 Him  it  seeks  from  whom  it  came  ; 
 It  would.  Mighty  God,  like  thee, 
 Holy,  holy,  holy  be  ! 
 
WILLIAM  HENRY  FURNESS.  165 
 
 "SHE    IS    NOT    DEAD,    BUT    SLEEPETH.' 
 
 r  I  ^HAT  one  so  rich  in  promise, 
 
 So  lovely  and  so  pure, 
 Should  thus  be  taken  from  us, 
 O,  how  shall  we  endure  ! 
 
 She  is  not  dead,  but  sleepeth : 
 Why  in  your  hearts  this  strife  ? 
 
 He,  who  hath  kept,  still  keepeth 
 The  never-dying  life. 
 
 And  though  that  form  must  moulder 
 And  mix  again  with  earth, 
 
 In  faith  ye  may  behold  her 
 In  glory  going  forth. 
 
 For  what  to  us  seems  dying 
 
 Is  but  a  second  birth, 
 A  spirit  upward  Hying 
 
 From  the  broken  shell  of  earth. 
 
 We  are  the  dead,  the  buried, 
 
 We,  who  do  yet  survive, 
 In  sin  and  sense  interred  — 
 
 The  dead  !     They  are  alive. 
 
 Freed  from  this  earthly  prison, 
 They  seek  another  sphere  : 
 
 They  are  not  dead,  but  risen  ! 
 And  God  is  with  them  there. 
 
 The  six  hymns  already  given  are  presented  in  the  form  in  which  they 
 appeared  in  "Domestic  Worship,"  without  the  alterations  that  mark 
 one  or  more  of  them  in  subsequent  Collections.  The  one  entitled  "  Peni- 
 tential "  seems  to  be  a  recast  of  a  hymn  of  eight  verses,  which  may  be 
 found  in  the  "Christian  Disciple,"  Vol.  IV.  (1S22),  and  which  begins, 
 "  Father  in  heaven,  to  thee  my  heart."  Four  stanzas,  the  first  two  and 
 the  la-t  two,  have  been  taken  from  the  latter,  introduced  into  many  of 
 our  hymn-books,  and  ascribed  to  Henry  Wari  .  Jr.  Mr.  Martineau,  in 
 his  new  hymn-book,  1S74,  correctly  refers  them  to  Dr.  Furness.  They 
 are  as  follows  :  — 
 
1 66  SOjVGS  of  the  liberal  faith. 
 
 A    PRAYER    FOR    DIVINE    AID. 
 
 "pATHER  in  heaven,  to  thee  my  heart 
 
 Would  lift  itself  in  prayer  ; 
 Drive  from  my  soul  each  earthly  thought, 
 And  be  thy  presence  there. 
 
 Each  moment  of  my  life  renews 
 
 The  mercies  of  the  Lord, 
 Each  moment  is  itself  a  gift 
 
 To  bear  one  on  to  God. 
 
 O,  help  me  break  the  galling  chains 
 This  world  has  round  me  thrown  ; 
 
 Each  passion  of  my  heart  subdue, 
 Each  darling  sin  disown  ! 
 
 And  do  thou  kindle  in  my  breast 
 
 A  never-dying  flame 
 Of  holy  love,  of  grateful  trust, 
 
 In  thine  almighty  name  ! 
 
 THE    WIDOW    OF    NAIN. 
 
 This  hymn  originally  appeared  in  the  "  Christian  Disciple,"  September  and  Octo- 
 ber No.,  1822  In  1839  it  t0°k  its  place,  with  the  author's  name,  in  Mr.  Pierpont's 
 American  edition  of  Emily  Taylor's  "Sabbath  Recreations." 
 
 r\.  MINGLE  with  the  widow's  tears 
 
 The  drops  for  misery  shed  ; 
 She  bends  beneath  the  weight  of  years, 
 Her  earthly  hope  has  fled. 
 
 Her  son,  her  only  son,  is  gone  ! 
 
 O,  who  shall  wipe  that  eye  ? 
 For  she  must  journey  lonely  on, 
 
 And  solitary  die ! 
 
WILLIAM  HENRY  Fl/RNESS.  167 
 
 The  pall  upon  his  corse  is  spread. 
 
 The  bier  they  slowly  raise  ; 
 It  cannot  rouse  the  slumbering  dead, — 
 
 That  widowed  mother's  gaze. 
 
 She  follows  on,  without  a  tear, 
 
 Her  dear,  her  darling  child  ; 
 But  who  is  he  that  stops  the  bier 
 
 With  look  and  accent  mild? 
 
 The  Saviour  is  that  pitying  one, 
 
 His  glance  her  woe  disarms  : 
 "  Young  man,  arise  !  "  —  a  living  son 
 
 Is  in  his  mother's  arms. 
 
 We  introduce  here  four  hymns  by  Dr.  Furness,  which  also  are  in 
 many  of  our  Collections,  and  are  familiar  to  the  churches.  They  are 
 taken  from  the  Cheshire  "  Christian  Hymns." 
 
 THE    WANT    WITHIN. 
 
 I"   FEEL  within  a  want 
 
 For  ever  burning  there  ; 
 What  I  so  thirst  for,  grant, 
 
 0  Thou  who  nearest  prayer  ! 
 
 This  is  the  thing  I  crave, 
 A  likeness  to  thy  Son  ; 
 
 This  would  I  rather  have 
 
 Than  call  the  world  my  own. 
 
 Like  him,  now  in  my  youth, 
 
 1  long,  O  God,  to  be, 
 In  tenderness  and  truth, 
 
 In  sweet  humility. 
 
 Tis  my  mo^t  fervent  prayer, 
 
 fervent  still, 
 Be  it  my  highest  ( 
 
 it  my  settled  will. 
 
1 68  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL   FAITH. 
 
 JESUS    OUR    LEADER. 
 
 TREBLE,  helpless,  how  shall  I 
 
 Learn  to  live  and  learn  to  die  ? 
 Who,  O  God,  my  guide  shall  be  ? 
 Who  shall  lead  thy  child  to  thee  ? 
 
 Blessed  Father,  gracious  One, 
 Thou  hast  sent  thy  holy  Son  ; 
 He  will  give  the  light  I  need, 
 He  my  trembling  steps  will  lead. 
 
 Through  this  world,  uncertain,  dim, 
 Let  me  ever  lean  on  him  ; 
 From  his  precepts  wisdom  draw, 
 Make  his  life  my  solemn  law. 
 
 Thus,  in  deed,  and  thought,  and  word, 
 Led  by  Jesus  Christ  the  Lord, 
 In  my  weakness,  thus  shall  I 
 Learn  to  live  and  learn  to  die. 
 
 Learn  to  live  in  peace  and  love, 
 Like  the  perfect  ones  above,  — 
 Learn  to  die  without  a  fear, 
 Feeling  thee,  my  Father,  near. 
 
 COMMUNION    HYMNS. 
 
 (~\  FOR  a  prophet's  fire, 
 ^^^     O  for  an  angel's  tongue, 
 To  speak  the  mighty  love  of  Him 
 Who  on  the  cross  was  hung ! 
 
 In  vain  our  hearts  attempt, 
 
 In  language  meet,  to  tell 
 How  through  a  thousand  sorrows  burned 
 
 That  flame  unquenchable. 
 
WILLIAM  HENRY  Fl/RNESS.  169 
 
 Yet  would  we  praise  that  love, 
 
 Beyond  expression  dear: 
 dune,  gather  round  this  table,  then, 
 
 And  celebrate  it  here. 
 
 These  symbols  of  his  death, 
 
 O,  with  what  power  they  speak  ! 
 Prophetic  lips  and  angels'  lyres, 
 
 Compared  with  these,  are  weak. 
 
 And  shall  they  plead  in  vain 
 
 With  our  forgetful  souls  ? 
 Forbid  it,  God,  while  through  our  veins 
 
 The  vital  current  rolls. 
 
 H 
 
 ERE,  in  the  broken  bread, 
 Here,  in  the  cup  we  take, 
 His  body  and  his  blood  behold, 
 Who  suffered  for  our  sake. 
 
 Yes,  that  our  souls  might  live, 
 Those  sacred  limbs  were  torn, 
 
 That  blood  was  spilt,  and  pangs  untold 
 Were  by  the  Saviour  borne. 
 
 O  Thou  who  didst  allow 
 
 Thy  Son  to  surfer  thus,  — 
 Father,  what  more  couldst  thou  have  done 
 
 Than  thou  hast  done  for  us  ? 
 
 We  are  persuaded  now 
 
 That  nothing  can  divide 
 Thy  children  from  thy  boundless  love, 
 
 Displayed  in  Him  who  died  ;  — 
 
 Who  died  to  make  us  sure 
 
 Of  mercy,  truth,  and  peace, 
 And  from  the  power  and  pains  of  sin 
 
 To  brincr  a  full  release. 
 
I70  SONGS  OF   THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 We  present  two  pieces  more,  furnished  for  this  volume  by  Dr.  Fur- 
 ness,  and  never  before  printed.  The  first  was  written  for  the  contralto 
 solo  in  Romberg's  music  to  Schiller's  "Song  of  the  Bell." 
 
 THE    FATHER'S    PRESENCE. 
 
 A  H  !  this  life  is  full  of  danger, 
 
 Ah  !  how  narrow  is  the  pathway ; 
 Lord,  our  prayer  to  thee  ascending 
 Seeks  thy  grace,  our  souls  defending, 
 All  our  way  to  guard  and  guide. 
 May  we  evermore  abide 
 'Neath  the  shadow  of  thy  wings, 
 And,  in  all  our  wanderings, 
 Father,  may  thy  love  attend  us, 
 Be  with  us  for  evermore. 
 In  temptation's  hour  befriend  us, 
 On  our  hearts  thy  Spirit  pour  ; 
 For  without  thy  mercy  o'er  us 
 We  no  strength,  O  God,  can  boast ; 
 All  our  joy  must  turn  to  sorrow, 
 All  our  hope  —  our  heaven  be  lost. 
 
 HE    THAT    DWELLETH    IN    LOVE    DWELLETH 
 IN    GOD." 
 
 f~\    HOW  far  are  we  below  Him  ! 
 
 Him  no  human  thought  can  reach ; 
 Never,  never  can  we  know  him, 
 Far  beyond  all  sight,  all  speech. 
 
 Yet  the  secret  of  his  presence 
 Is  with  those  who  dwell  in  Love  ; 
 
 They,  embosomed  in  his  essence, 
 In  him  ever  live  and  move. 
 
 So  in  him  to  have  our  being, 
 
 Choosing  Love  for  our  abode, 
 More  than  knowing  him,  or  seeing, 
 
 Is  it  thus  to  dwell  in  God. 
 
THOMAS  CRAW   JR.  171 
 
 THOMAS   GRAY,  JR. 
 (1803-1849.) 
 
 Thomas  Gray,  jR->  M.D.,  was  born  at  Jamaica  Plain,  Roxbury, 
 Mass.,  Feb.  4,  1S03,  and  was  the  youngest  of  the  three  children  of  Rev. 
 Thomas  Gray,  D.D.,  who  was  for  more  than  fifty  years  pastor  of  the 
 First  Congregational  (Unitarian)  Church  at  that  place.  The  wife  of  the 
 Latter,  and  mother  of  the  three  children  referred  to,  was  Deborah,  daughter 
 of  a  distinguished  Baptist  clergyman  in  Boston,  Rev.  Samuel  Stillman, 
 D.D.  The  subject  of  this  notice  graduated  at  Harvard  College  in  1823, 
 and  soon  afterwards  went  abroad,  and  travelled  in  England  and  on  the 
 continent.  On  his  return  he  published  an  historical  romance  which  he 
 wrote,  and  entitled  "The  Vestal  :  a  Tale  of  Pompeii."  This  interesting 
 work  was  favorably  received  by  the  public,  and  was  the  first  to  acquaint 
 American  readers,  to  any  considerable  extent,  with  the  buried  cities  of 
 Pompeii  and  Herculaneum.  In  1827  Mr.  Gray  received  the  degree  of 
 M.l).  from  his  Alma  Mater,  and  commenced  the  practice  of  medicine  in 
 Boston.  He  was  married  at  Brunswick,  Me.,  Sept.  9,  1834,  to  Miss  Mary 
 Turell  Fales,  daughter  of  the  late  William  Augustus  Fales,  Esq.  His 
 wife's  mother  was  his  own  cousin,  and  was  the  sister  of  the  late  Rev. 
 Frederick  T.  Gray.  Dr.  Gray  subsequently  exchanged  the  practice  of 
 medicine  for  that  of  dentistry,  which  he  followed  to  the  end  of  his  life. 
 He  died  in  Boston,  March  6,  1849. 
 
 He  early  made  an  open  profession  of  his  Christian  faith,  and  was 
 a  pure,  devoted,  consistent  member  of  the  Church.  He  was  greatly 
 interested  in  Sunday  schools,  was  for  some  time  a  teacher,  and  was 
 one  of  the  earliest  to  write  hymns  for  children,  while  he  composed  others 
 for  ordination  and  installation  services,  and  for  various  occasions  beside. 
 Some  of  them  appeared  in  Mr.  Pray's  Sunday  School  Collections,  and 
 several  of  them  have  passed  into  later  and  larger  compilations  for  the 
 church.  All  of  them  witness  to  his  fine  natural  talent  for  this  kind  of  ser- 
 vice. He  was  quite  as  well  at  home,  however,  in  other  forms  of  poetic 
 composition,  and  wrote  a  fine  ode  for  the  Second  Centennial  Anniversary 
 of  the  settlement  of  Roxbury,  Oct.  8,  1830.  He  had  much  literary  taste, 
 and  wrote  frequently  for  the  magazines  and  periodicals,  while  he  was 
 also  fond  of  music,  and  at  one  time  was  the  organist  in  his  father's 
 church. 
 
 The  following  hymn  was  the  opening  one  in  Mr.  Pray's  Sunday-School 
 Hymn-Book  of  1833,  which  we  have  had  previous  occasion  to  remark 
 was  our  first  popular  Collection  of  the  kind  adapted  to  music.  It  is  also 
 the  opening  one  in  the  later  edition. 
 
172  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 MORNING   HYMN. 
 
 /^\UR  Father,  here  again  we  raise 
 
 To  thee  our  morning  hymn  of  praise, 
 For  all  the  joys  thy  smiles  afford, 
 This  sacred  day,  thy  holy  word. 
 
 We  thank  thee,  Father,  that  to  thee 
 Again  we  bend  the  lowly  knee  ; 
 That  here  in  peace  and  prayer  we  stand, 
 Upheld  by  an  Almighty  hand. 
 
 Whate'er  we  do,  where'er  we  be, 
 Keep  us  from  sin  and  error  free ; 
 Thy  Sabbaths  may  we  so  improve,     • 
 As  best  to  win  our  Father's  love. 
 
 So  shall  we  then,  when  life  shall  end, 
 A  nobler,  holier  Sabbath  spend, 
 Where  thy  good  children  all  shall  be 
 Joined  in  one  family  with  thee. 
 
 SUNDAY-SCHOOL   ANNIVERSARY   HYMN. 
 
 From  the  Sunday-School  Hymn-Book,  1833.     It  was  written  for  the  Jubilee  of  the  Bos- 
 ton Sunday-School  Society,  at  the  Federal  Street  Church,  Sept.  14,  1831. 
 
 TT7HILE  round  thy  throne,  O  God,  we  bend, 
 
 Let  our  united  praises  rise  ; 
 And  from  a  thousand  tongues  ascend 
 The  heart's  accepted  sacrifice. 
 
 Let  living  light  from  thy  blest  word 
 
 Guide  those  who  seek  and  teach  thy  way ; 
 
 And  may  each  opening  flower,  O  Lord, 
 Drink  life  from  that  eternal  ray. 
 
THOMAS  CRAY,   JR.  I  ;3 
 
 Bl  :ss  those  who  first  this  vineyard  dressed  : 
 They  reaped  in  joy,  but  sowed  in  doubt; 
 
 They  smote  the  roek,  and  from  its  breast 
 Leaped  life's  eternal  waters  out. 
 
 They  sowed  in  doubt,  for  dimly  woke 
 
 The  light  toward  which  their  footsteps  trod  ; 
 
 They  reaped  in  joy,  for  glory  broke, 
 Unclouded,  from  the  throne  of  God. 
 
 On  us  and  ours,  oh,  let  its  ray 
 
 Shine  brightly  as  with  power  divine, 
 That  thus,  while  ages  roll  away, 
 
 Our  children's  children  may  be  thine. 
 
 PRAYER   FOR   A   BLESSING. 
 
 This  hymn,  like  the  first,  is  in  both  editions  of  the  Sunday-School  Hymn-Book.  The 
 first  three  verses  are  in  many  Church  Collections.  Mr.  Martineau  has  given  them  a  place 
 in  both  of  his  compilations. 
 
 CUPPLIANT,  lo  !  thy  childen  bend, 
 
 Father,  for  thy  blessing  now  ; 
 Thou  canst  teach  us.  guide,  defend  ; 
 We  are  weak,  almighty  thou. 
 
 With  the  peace  thy  word  imparts 
 Be  the  taught  and  teachers  blest ; 
 
 In  our  lives,  and  in  our  hearts, 
 Father,  be  thy  laws  impressed. 
 
 Shed  abroad  in  every  mind 
 
 Light  and  pardon  from  above, 
 Charity  for  all  our  kind, 
 
 Trusting  faith,  and  holy  love. 
 
 Here,  in  joy's  triumphant  day, 
 
 Still  may  grateful  hearts  arise, 
 Bright  with  rapture's  kindling  ray, 
 
 Purely,  fondly  to  the  skies. 
 
1/4  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 Here  in  sorrow's  chastening  hour 
 May  thy  word  its  light  diffuse  ; 
 
 Freshening  as  the  vernal  shower, 
 Peaceful  as  the  silent  dews. 
 
 Grant  us  spirits  lowly,  pure, 
 
 Errors  pardoned,  sins  forgiven  ; 
 
 Humble  trust,  obedience  sure, 
 Love  to  man  and  faith  in  heaven. 
 
 AN  OPENING  HYMN  FOR  THE  SUNDAY  SCHOOL. 
 
 From  the  Sunday-School  Hymn-Book,  1844. 
 
 V17E  come  in  childhood's  innocence, 
 
 We  come  as  children  free  ; 
 We  offer  up,  O  God,  our  hearts 
 In  trusting  love  to  thee. 
 
 Well  may  we  bend  in  solemn  joy,  ^ 
 
 At  thy  bright  courts  above  ; 
 Well  may  the  grateful  child  rejoice 
 
 In  such  a  Father's  love. 
 
 In  joy  we  wake,  in  peace  we  sleep, 
 
 Safe  from  -all  midnight  harms  ; 
 Not  folded  in  an  angel's  wings, 
 
 But  in  a  Father's  arms. 
 
 We  come  not  as  the  mighty  come  ; 
 
 Not  as  the  proud  we  bow  j 
 But  as  the  pure  in  heart  should  bend, 
 
 Seek  we  thine  altar  now. 
 
 "  Forbid  them  not,"  the  Saviour  said  : 
 
 In  speechless  rapture  dumb, 
 We  hear  the  call,  we  seek  thy  face  ; 
 
 Father,  we  come,  we  come  ! 
 
THOMAS  GRAY,   JR.  175 
 
 ORDINATION    HYMN. 
 
 Written  for  the  ordination  of  Mr.  ( reorge  Whitney  as  pastor  of  the  Second  Church  and 
 society  in  Roxbury,  June  15,  1831. 
 
 TEHOVAH  !  at  thine  awful  throne, 
 
 Earth  and  earth's  suppliants  lowly  bow; 
 Where  breaks  the  light,  thy  power  is  known,  — 
 Where  evening  lingers,  there  art  thou. 
 
 We  bow  to  thee,  in  humble  prayer, 
 
 That  now  thy  servant  thou  would'st  bless ; 
 
 And  long  may  this,  thy  people,  share 
 His  love,  his  care,  his  faithfulness. 
 
 Long  may  this  vine,  Almighty  One  ! 
 
 The  Gospel's  healing  balm  diffuse  ; 
 Be  nurtured  by  the  morning  sun, 
 
 And  watered  with  the  evening  dews. 
 
 Here  may  thy  church  find  rich  increase  ; 
 
 Firm  as  thy  throne  her  faith  endure  ; 
 Be  peaceful,  as  thy  word  is  peace, 
 
 And  pure  as  thou,  O  God,  art  pure. 
 
 Here  may  the  wandering  child  of  sense 
 
 Return  to  thee  and  heaven  again, 
 And  erring,  weeping  Penitence 
 
 Seek  not  a  Father's  face  in  vain. 
 
 Here  may  earth's  restless  tumults  cease  j 
 
 Be  Sorrow  patient  to  thy  will ; 
 Say  to  the  angry  spirit,  "  Peace,"  — 
 
 To  Passion's  stormy  wave,  "  Be  still." 
 
 Jehovah  !  at  thine  awful  throne, 
 
 Earth  and  earth's  mighty  suppliants  bow; 
 
 Where  morning  kindles,  thou  art  known,  — 
 Where  evening  slumbers,  there  art  thou. 
 
176  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 A  well-deserved  tribute  to  the  character  and  memory  of  Dr.  Gray 
 appeared  soon  after  his  decease  in  the  "Christian  Register,"  and  was 
 written  by  Rev.  Frederick  T.  Gray,  who,  in  reference  to  his  hymns, 
 said  that  a  "few  of  them,  breathing  the  true  spirit  of  lyric  poetry,  have 
 passed  into  some  of  our  best  Collections,"  and  added  :  "  One  of  them, 
 '  Good-Night,'  so  felicitously  is  it  expressed,  will  long  be  remembered  by 
 the  children  of  many  Sunday  schools,  over  whom  a  shade  of  sadness 
 will  come  when  they  shall  hear  of  the  death  of  him  who  wrote,  '  Pure  as 
 the  dew  ascends.'  " 
 
 GOOD-NIGHT. 
 
 A  closing  hymn,  written  for  a  Juvenile  Concert. 
 
 /^OOD-NIGHT  !  good-night !  our  song  is  said  : 
 
 Good-night !  the  lyre  is  sleeping : 
 May  spirits  bright  around  your  bed 
 
 A  radiant  watch  be  keeping. 
 And  may  you  wake,  with  bosoms  light, 
 
 Unclouded  by  a  sorrow, 
 From  dreams  of  all  you  love,  to-night, 
 To  pleasant  hours  to-morrow : 
 May  every  dream, 
 In  the  moon-beam, 
 From  hope  her  rainbow  borrow. 
 Good-night !  to  all,  a  kind  good-night. 
 
 Good-night !  good-night !  we  humbly  pray, 
 
 To  Heaven  our  heart  addressing, 
 Our  every  thought  and  act  to-day 
 
 May  meet  his  holy  blessing. 
 Pure  as  the  dew  unseen  ascends 
 
 In  morning's  sunny  hour, 
 Pure  as  the  spotless  lily  bends 
 
 To  heaven  her  vestal  flower, 
 So  purely  there, 
 Oh,  let  our  prayer 
 Rise  to  the  same  Good  Power ! 
 Good-night !  good-night !  to  all,  a  kind  good-night. 
 
WILLIAM  NEWELL.  1 77 
 
 WILLIAM    NEWELL. 
 
 (1804.) 
 
 Rev.  WlLUAM  NEWELL,  D.D.,  was  born  in  Littleton,  Mass.,  Feb.  25, 
 1804.  When  he  was  at  a  very  early  age,  his  parents  removed  to  Boston, 
 where  the  son  received  his  first  school  instruction.  Having  entered  the 
 Latin  School  of  that  city,  he  was  the  first  to  carry  off  the  prize  for  a 
 Latin  poem  awarded  by  that  institution.  He  graduated  with  high  honor, 
 reading  on  the  occasion  a  poem  on  "  Youth,"  which  evinced  his  unmis- 
 takable genius  for  this  kind  of  literary  composition.  He  graduated  at 
 Harvard  College  in  1S24,  and  at  the  Cambridge  Divinity  School  in  1829, 
 maintaining  here,  as  in  earlier  relations,  his  superior  rank  as  a  student. 
 He  was  ordained  pastor  of  the  First  Church  in  Cambridge,  May  19,  1830, 
 and  was  its  devoted  and  faithful  minister  for  nearly  thirty-eight  years, 
 resigning  his  charge  and  ceasing  from  active  parochial  labors  March  31, 
 1S6S.  At  the  close  of  this  long  term  of  service,  his  people,  among  whom 
 he  still  lives  and  with  whom  he  continues  to  worship,  presented  him  with 
 a  munificent  gift  in  token  of  their  grateful  appreciation  of  his  worth  and 
 usefulness. 
 
 Dr.  Newell  has  had  a  high  reputation  for  scholarly  attainments,  and 
 for  the  purity  and  finish  of  his  style  as  a  writer.  His  published  produc- 
 tions consist  chiefly  of  religious  discourses,  biographical  and  historical 
 addresses,  and  literaryarticles,  printed  in  pamphlet  form  or  in  magazines. 
 Of  his  occasional  or  anniversary  discourses,  two  were  delivered  on  leaving 
 the  old  church  in  Cambridge,  Dec.  1,  1833,  and  on  entering  the  new,  Dec. 
 12,  1S33  ;  others  on  "  Our  National  Legislature,"  preached  on  Fast  Day, 
 April  7,  1842  ;  on  the  Cambridge  Church  Gathering  in  1636,  February, 
 1846;  on  "The  Year's  Remembrances,"  Dec.  31,  1848;  and  on  the  com- 
 pletion of  the  twenty-fifth  year  of  the  author's  settlement,  May  27,  1855. 
 Of  his  funeral  or  commemorative  sermons  are  those  which  he  gave 
 on  Judge  Story,  1845;  on  Andrews  Norton,  entitled  "The  Christian 
 Scholar,"  1853;  on  "The  Changes  of  Life,"  delivered  after  the  death  of 
 Mrs.  Professor  Webster,  1853  ;  on  Jared  Sparks,  1S66;  and  on  Professor 
 Charles  Beck,  1866.  Two  others,  one  on  Rev.  William  Ware  and  one 
 on  William  Wells,  were  published  in  the  "  Christian  Register  "  of  Feb.  29, 
 1852,  and  April  29,  i860.  "Corrupt  Gifts"  was  the  title  of  a  sermon 
 which  he  preached  on  Jan.  22,  1854,  the  anniversary  of  Lord  P>acon's 
 birthday.  He  gave  to  the  "  Christian  Examiner,"  May,  1848,  an  article  on 
 the  Early  Fathers  of  New  England,  with  a  memoir  of  Thomas  Shepard  ; 
 and  to  the  same  periodical,  November,  1853,  a  memoir  of  Andrews  Norton. 
 A  memoir  of  Rev.  Convers  Francis,  D.D.,  was  published  in  the  "Pro- 
 ceedings of  the  Massachusetts  Historical  Society  "  for  1865.  Dr.  Newell 
 is  a  member  of  the  Massachusetts  Historical  Society,  and  received  the 
 degree  of  D.D.  from  Harvard  College  in  1853. 
 
178  SONGS   OF   THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 He  has  from  time  to  time  written  for  his  friends,  or  contributed  to  the 
 papers  and  magazines,  or  composed  for  public  occasions,  hymns  and 
 poems  of  rare  merit,  distinguished  alike  for  their  beauty  and  power  of 
 thought,  their  refined  Christian  spirit  and  sentiment,  and  their  chaste 
 and  graceful  expression.  As  in  the  case  of  similar  productions  of  other 
 gifted  bards  whose  names  appear  in  this  volume,  we  take  peculiar 
 pleasure  in  giving  here  to  some  of  Dr.  Newell's  verses  their  first  collected 
 form. 
 
 CONSECRATION  OF  CAMBRIDGE  CEMETERY. 
 
 Sung  at  the  consecration,  Nov.  i,  1854. 
 
 (^HANGING,  fading,  falling,  flying 
 
 From  the  homes  that  gave  them  birth, 
 Autumn  leaves  in  beauty  dying 
 Seek  the  mother-breast  of  earth. 
 
 Soon  shall  all  the  songless  wood 
 
 Shiver  in  the  deepening  snow, 
 Mourning  in  its  solitude, 
 
 Like  some  Rachel  in  her  woe. 
 
 Slowly  sinks  yon  evening  sun, 
 
 Softly  wanes  the  cheerful  light, 
 And,  the  twelve  hours'  labor  done, 
 
 Onward  sweeps  the  solemn  night. 
 
 So  on  many  a  home  of  gladness 
 Falls,  O  Death,  thy  winter  gloom  ; 
 
 Stands  there  still  in  doubt  and  sadness 
 Many  a  Mary  at  the  tomb. 
 
 But  the  genial  spring  returning 
 
 Will  the  sylvan  pomp  renew, 
 And  the  new-born  flame  of  morning 
 
 Kindle  rainbows  in  the  dew. 
 
 So  shall  God,  his  promise  keeping 
 
 To  the  world  by  Jesus  given, 
 Wake  our  loved  ones,  sweetly  sleeping, 
 
 At  the  breaking  dawn  of  heaven. 
 
WILLIAM  NEWELL.  179 
 
 Light  from  darkness  !     Life  from  death  ! 
 
 Dies  the  body,  not  the  soul ; 
 From  the  chrysalis  beneath 
 
 Soars  the  spirit  to  its  goal. 
 
 Father,  when  the  mourners  come 
 
 With  the  slowly  moving  bier, 
 Weeping  at  the  open  tomb 
 
 For  the  lovely  and  the  dear,  — 
 
 Breathe  into  the  bleeding  heart 
 
 Hopes  that  die  not  with  the  dead ; 
 And  the  peace  of  Christ  impart 
 
 When  the  joys  of  earth  have  fled. 
 
 VOICES    FROM   THE    PAST. 
 
 These  are  the  last  lines  of  a  beautiful  poem  with  which  Dr.  Newell  closed  his  sermon 
 on  the  completion  of  the  twenty-fifth  year  of  his  ministry,  and  which  may  be  found  in  the 
 pamphlet  containing  the  printed  discourse,  and  entitled  "The  Pastor's  Remembrances." 
 
 CO  the  two  voices,  to  the  dreamer's  thought, 
 
 Alternate  sang,  of  Hope  and  Terrors  wild, 
 Of  Grief  and  Gladness,  Trust  and  gloomy  Doubt. 
 Which  was  his  own  ?     Father,  forgive  thy  child ! 
 
 Forgive  the  fears  that  struggle  with  his  faith. 
 Dispel  the  doubts  that  overcloud  his  sky, 
 As  the  sun  scatters  the  red  mist  beneath  ; 
 And  onward  let  the  blessed  trinity. 
 The  sister-band  of  graces,  one  and  three, 
 Strong  Faith,  with  eagle  eye  and  angel  wings, 
 Sweet  Hope,  that  heavenward  soars,  and  soaring  sings, 
 And  Love,  that  crowns  the  Father  King  of  kings, 
 Lead  through  the  labvrinth  of  life  to  thee. 
 
l8o  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 THE    CHRISTIAN    PREACHER   AND    TEACHER. 
 
 Written  for  the  induction  of  Rev.  Dr.  Huntington  as  Preacher  and  Plummer  Pro- 
 fessor at  Harvard  College,  Sept.  4,  1855.  We  give  nine  of  the  twe'.ve  stanzas.  The  whole 
 hymn  may  be  found  in  the  pamphlet  containing  the  published  proceedings  of  the  occasion. 
 
 VyELCOME,  servant  of  the  Lord  ! 
 Bear  aloft  the  torch  of  Truth  ; 
 And  with  light  from  God's  own  word 
 Guide  the  wavering  steps  of  youth. 
 
 Nature,  Providence,  and  Grace, 
 
 Heaven-writ  volumes,  three  and  one, 
 
 Showing  each  the  Father's  face, 
 Brightest  in  the  Saviour-Son,  — 
 
 Open  all  in  order  due  ; 
 
 Speak  from  all  for  God  and  Right ; 
 Nobler  aims  than  Plato  knew 
 
 With  the  scholar's  aim  unite. 
 
 "  Christo  et  Ecclesiae  !  " 
 
 Stands  our  Mother's  chosen  seal ;  * 
 
 Faith  must  crown  Philosophy  ; 
 Learning  unto  Christ  must  kneel. 
 
 Not  unsuccored  wilt  thou  come  ; 
 
 Heaven  and  earth  thy  way  prepare  ; 
 Up  from  many  a  loved  one's  home 
 
 Flows  for  thee  the  might  of  prayer. 
 
 By  the  mighty  woe  or  weal, 
 
 Wrapped  within  life's  budding  years  ; 
 
 By  the  sanctified  appeal 
 
 Of  the  parent's  hopes  and  fears ; 
 
 By  each  tender  tie  and  name  ; 
 
 By  the  memory  of  the  dead  ; 
 By  thy  Master's  solemn  claim  ; 
 
 By  the  cross  on  which  he  bled  ; 
 
 *  Bearing  upon  it  three  open  books,  with  the  above  motto  encircling  them. 
 
WILLIAM  NEWELL,  l8l 
 
 By  the  all-loving  Father's  right 
 
 To  be  known,  received,  obeyed  ; 
 By  the  Holy  Spirit's  light, 
 
 Beaming  on  the  souls  he  made  \  — 
 
 Go  in  faith  and  work  in  love 
 
 For  each  brother-student's  soul, 
 Till  the  shining  ones  above 
 
 Meet  thee  at  thy  glorious  goal. 
 
 LIGHT   ON   THE   CLOUD.* 
 
 **  All  things  work  together  for  good  to  them  that  love  God."  —  Rom.  viii.  25. 
 
 TTE  who  in  mercy  makes  the  sun  to  shine 
 
 In  mercy  bids  the  storm-cloud  do  his  will  ; 
 And  ripens  into  fruit  the  life  divine, 
 
 By  turns  of  wisely  mingled  good  and  ill. 
 
 Yes,  he  it  is,  our  righteous  Father-God, 
 Who,  in  the  training  of  his  children,  sends 
 
 The  dark-robed  angel  of  the  chastening  rod 
 To  be  co-worker  in  his  gracious  ends. 
 
 Smiles  the  Lord's  messenger  beneath  his  mask, 
 Rich  treasure  hiding  under  pain  and  loss. 
 
 The  meaning  of  his  mission  dost  thou  ask  ? 
 God's  answer  read  on  the  transfigured  Cross. 
 
 Wreathed  with  heaven's  half-hid  roses  in  the  bud, 
 Behold  the  crown  of  thorns,  the  accursed  tree  ! 
 
 Full  many  a  blessing,  dimly  understood, 
 O  stern  Adversity,  is  born  of  thee  ! 
 
 Come  in  what  shape  thou  wilt,  thou  canst  not  come, 
 To  the  true  soul,  unsanctified,  unblest ; 
 
 Upward  still  pointing  to  the  Father's  home, 
 The  Father's  face,  his  service  and  his  rest. 
 
 Written  for  a  parishioner  who  was  recovering  from  a  severe  fit  of  sickness. 
 
1 82  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 Thou  mak'st  us  know,  what  else  we  but  half  know, 
 Friends'  love  and  care,  their  sympathy  and  truth ; 
 
 And  so  new  tendrils,  soft  and  strong,  do  grow 
 To  the  fond  ties  that  bound  us  in  our  youth. 
 
 Nearer  to  Jesus  thou  dost  draw  the  soul, 
 And  thou  revealest  to  its  opened  eye 
 
 Life's  great  realities  and  heavenly  goal, 
 Shining  through  all  its  checkered  mystery. 
 
 So  out  of  every  Marah,  healing  springs, 
 
 All  pure  and  sweet,  come  gushing  up  at  length ; 
 
 And  he,  who  made  and  loves  us  wisely,  brings 
 From  bitter  woe  and  weakness  joy  and  strength. 
 
 Pours  he  his  bounties  from  a  flowing  urn  ? 
 
 Stints  he  their  current  ?     Praise  him,  trust  him  still, 
 And  each  new  trial  to  a  triumph  turn, 
 
 In  patient  doing  of  his  holy  will. 
 
 Learn  of  the  Crucified  thy  cross  to  bear ; 
 
 Unto  the  end,  as  he  endured,  endure  ; 
 And  with  the  sword  of  Faith  and  shield  of  Prayer, 
 
 In  the  hard  strife  with  evil,  stand  secure. 
 
 Dec  18,  1858. 
 
 JARED    SPARKS. 
 
 A  Sonnet,  sent  to  Mrs.  Sparks  on  receiving  a  photograph  of  her  husband,  1866. 
 
 F    LOOK  upon  thy  features,  honored  friend, 
 
 With  many  thronging  memories,  sad  yet  sweet, 
 And  then  I  ask  myself,  "  Is  this  the  end  ? 
 
 Shall  we  no  more  that  noble  presence  meet?  " 
 
 Will  God,  the  Father,  sporting  with  us,  cheat 
 The  heart's  deep  promise  of  another  home,  — 
 Another  land  where  parted  spirits  come 
 
 Into  another  union  more  complete  ? 
 Nay,  in  the  silence  of  that  speaking  look, 
 
 In  the  grave  aspect  lighted  with  a  smile, 
 
WILLIAM  NEWELL,  183 
 
 I  read  the  answer  to  the  yearning  soul 
 Echoing  the  message  of  the  Holy  Book, 
 
 And  on  "that  blessed  hope  "*  I  anchor,  while 
 I  wait  God's  time  to  see  the  perfect  whole. 
 
 FESTIVAL    HYMN. 
 
 Written  for  the  Annual  Unitarian  Festival,  held  in  Music  Hall,   Boston,  May  30,  1872. 
 
 "PROM  Maine,  Vermont,  New  Hampshire, 
 
 From  California's  shore, 
 Saint  Louis  and  Chicago, 
 
 New  York  and  Baltimore  ; 
 From  the  old  English  household, 
 
 From  many  a  Yankee  home, 
 Our  brothers  and  our  sisters 
 
 In  love  and  joy  have  come. 
 
 Once  more,  in  genial  union, 
 
 A  widely  gathered  host, 
 Jesus,  our  Leader,  smiling, 
 
 We  hold  our  Pentecost. 
 Hearts,  filled  with  praise  and  gladness, 
 
 Respond  to  tongues  of  fire, 
 While  words  of  wit  and  wisdom 
 
 Our  feast  of  love  inspire. 
 
 What,  though  we  miss  the  presence 
 
 Of  noble  souls  once  given, 
 We  bless  the  Lord  who  gave  them 
 
 To  light  the  way  to  heaven. 
 We  pray  for  strength  to  follow 
 
 The  path  they  firmly  trocl, 
 That  we,  with  them,  may  labor 
 
 For  truth,  and  right,  and  God. 
 
 And  still,  'mid  differing  phrases, 
 
 May  all  in  heart  be  one  ; 
 One  with  the  One  Great  Father, 
 
 One  with  the  loving  Son. 
 
 *  Titus  ii.  13  ;    Hebrews  vi.  19. 
 
1 84     SONGS   OF   THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 May  peace  among  the  nations 
 Her  olive  sceptre  hold, 
 
 And  bind  in  cordial  friendship 
 The  New  World  and  the  Old. 
 
 O  God,  give  all  thy  churches 
 
 Thine  unction  from  above  ; 
 Faith,  hand  in  hand  wilh  freedom, 
 
 With  holiness  and  love  ; 
 Till  all,  united,  working 
 
 For  the  world's  life,  and  health, 
 Build  here  on  earth  thy  kingdom, 
 
 One  Christian  commonwealth. 
 
 COMMUNION    HYMN.* 
 
 "  He  sent  away  the  multitudes."  —  Matt.  xv.  39. 
 
 'T^HEY  had  fed  on  his  word,  and  they  drank  in  his  smile, 
 
 And  fain  in  his  presence  uplifted  would  stay  ; 
 And  the  heart  of  the  Saviour  yearned  towards  them  the  while, 
 Yet  in  love  and  in  wisdom  he  sent  them  away. 
 
 Not  alone  in  communion  with  him  and  his  word, 
 Not  alone  in  the  meeting  to  praise  and  to  pray, 
 
 Would  he  teach  them  to  serve  and  to  honor  the  Lord, 
 So  in  love  and  in  wisdom  he  sent  them  away. 
 
 To  the  world's  daily  toil,  to  the  field  and  the  mart, 
 
 To  their  friends  and  their  homes,  to  their  children  at  play, 
 
 That  the  life  might  bear  fruit  of  the  faith  in  the  heart, 
 In  love  and  in  wisdom  he  sent  them  away. 
 
 Let  thy  presence,  dear  Saviour,  abide  with  us  still, 
 
 As  the  law  of  thy  Spirit  we  gladly  obey, 
 And  mould  heart  and  life  to  thy  word  and  thy  will, 
 
 When  we  go,  sent  by  thee,  from  thy  table  away. 
 
 *  Written  for  the  close  of  the  communion  service. 
 
WILLIAM  NEWELL.  185 
 
 ALTIORA    PETAMUS,    CHRISTO    DUCE. 
 
 '  If  ye  be  risen  with  Christ,  seek  those  things  which  are  above."  —  Col.  iii.  1-3. 
 
 [    SAW  the  mountain  oak  with  towering  form 
 Fall  in  his  pTide,  the  whirlwind's  chosen  prey, 
 The  lily  of  the  vale  outrode  the  storm, 
 
 Shining  the  lovelier,  as  it  passed  away. 
 Friend,  seek  not  happiness  in  high  estate, 
 To  Mary's  heart  she  flies  from  Herod's  palace-gate. 
 
 I  marked  a  spendthrift  moth,  squalid  and  lone, 
 
 With  shivering  wings  ;  his  summer  flowers  were  dead  : 
 
 While  the  blithe  bee,  making  their  sweets  her  own, 
 Sang  in  her  home  of  honey,  richly  fed. 
 
 Friend,  seek  not  happiness  in  fleeting  pleasure, 
 
 In    each  good  work  of  life  the  good  God  hides  her 
 treasure. 
 
 Jewelled  with  morning  dew,  the  new-blown  rose 
 Brings  to  the  enamoured  eye  her  transient  dower  ; 
 
 The  live  sap  still  runs  fresh,  the  sound  root  grows, 
 When  all  forgotten  fades  the  red-lipped  flower. 
 
 Friend,  seek  not  happiness  in  the  bloom  of  beauty, 
 
 But  in  the  soul  of  truth  and  steadfast  life  of  duty. 
 
 Lo  !  the  red  meteor  startles  with  his  blaze 
 The  gazing,  awe-struck  earth,  and  disappears  j 
 
 While  yon  true  star,  with  soft,  undazzling  rays, 
 
 Shines  in  our  sky  through  circling  months  and  years. 
 
 Friend,  seek  not  happiness  in  worldly  splendor, 
 
 But  in  the  light  serene  of  home-joys,  pure  and  tender. 
 
 Power  has  its  thorns  ;  wealth  may  be  joyless  glitter  ; 
 
 Belshazzar's  feast  grows  dark  with  fear  and  sadness  ; 
 Friends  die,  —  and  beauty  wanes,  —  and  cares  embitter 
 
 The  gilded  cup  ;  grief  lurks  behind  our  gladness. 
 Then  seek  not  happiness  in  shows  of  earth, 
 But  learn  of  Christ  betimes  the  secret  of  her  birth. 
 
1 86  SONGS   OF   THE  LIBERAL   FAITH. 
 
 Child  of  the  soul,  twin -born  with  Faith  and  Love, 
 In  the  clear  conscience,  and  the  generous  heart, 
 
 Twin-lived  with  them,  with  them  she  soars  above 
 The  earthly  names  which  man  from  man  do  part. 
 
 Seek  thou  God's  kingdom  ;  th^ere  unsought  she's  found, 
 
 High  in  a  heavenly  life,  not  creeping  on  the  ground. 
 
 Hearts  set  on  things  above,  not  things  beneath, 
 Find  what  they  crave  around  them  day  by  day  ; 
 
 Souls  risen  with  Christ,  quick  with  his  Spirit,  breathe 
 The  air  of  heaven,  e'en  while  on  earth  they  stay. 
 
 Bearing  the  cross,  the  hidden  crown  they  bring, 
 
 And  at  the  tomb  they  hear  the  Easter  angels  sing. 
 
 A   NEW-YEAR'S    HYMN. 
 
 Written  by  Dr.  Newell  for  a  young  friend  staying  in  his  family,  on  her  birthday,  and 
 contributed  by  him  to  this  volume  on  the  day  when  he  himself  was  just  seventy  years  of 
 age. 
 
 "  Surely  goodness  and  mercy  shall  follow  me  all  the  days  of  my  life.' '  —  Ps   xxiii.  6. 
 
 A  LL  the  days  of  my  life,  be  they  many  or  few, 
 The  Father  of  Spirits  will  lead  me  unseen  \ 
 His  goodness  and  mercy  my  steps  will  pursue, 
 By  his  rod  I  am  led,  on  his  arm  I  would  lean. 
 
 All  the  days  of  my  life,  be  they  shadowed  or  bright, 
 His  love,  meeting  mine,  will  fall  full  on  my  soul ; 
 
 His  voice,  if  I  hear  it,  will  guide  me  aright, 
 And  his  uplifting  hand  bear  me  on  to  the  goal. 
 
 All  the  days  of  my  life,  days  of  light  or  of  gloom, 
 I  will  trust  the  wise  love  of  that  merciful  Friend, 
 
 As  I  climb  through  the  dark  to  my  heavenly  home, 
 Still  with  me  to  comfort,  to  cheer  and  defend. 
 
 Let  the  days  of  my  life,  be  they  many  or  few, 
 Be  hallowed  by  duty,  made  lovely  by  love  ; 
 
 And  every  New  Year  with  good  works  flower  anew, 
 While  Christ  at  the  root  feeds  the  Luitage  above. 
 
WILLIAM  NEWELL.  1 87 
 
 Then,  if  many  or  few,  if  clouded  or  clear, 
 
 Mv  days  on  the  earth  will  have  glimpses  of  heaven, 
 
 And  the  last  day's  last  hour  of  the  last  happy  year 
 Will  of  all  be  the  best  by  the  good  Father  given. 
 
 SERVE    GOD    AND    BE    CHEERFUL.* 
 
 "  C  ERVE  God  and  be  cheerful."     The  motto 
 
 Shall  be  mine,  as  the  bishop's  of  old  ; 
 On  my  soul's  coat-of-arms  I  will  write  it 
 In  letters  of  azure  and  gold. 
 
 "  Serve  God  and  be  cheerful,"  self-balanced, 
 Whether  fortune  smile  sweetly  or  frown. 
 
 Christ  stood  king  before  Pilate.  Within  me 
 I  carry  the  sceptre  and  crown. 
 
 "  Serve  God  and  be  cheerful."     Make  brighter 
 The  brightness  that  falls  to  your  lot ; 
 
 The  rare  or  the  daily  sent  blessing 
 
 Profane  not  with  gloom  and  with  doubt. 
 
 "  Serve  God  and  be  cheerful."  Each  sorrow 
 Is  —  with  your  will  in  God's  —  for  the  best. 
 
 O'er  the  cloud  hangs  the  rainbow.     To-morrow 
 Will  see  the  blue  sky  in  the  west. 
 
 "  Serve  God  and  be  cheerful."     The  darkness 
 
 Only  masks  the  surprises  of  dawn  ; 
 And  the  deeper  and  grimmer  the  midnight, 
 
 The  brighter  and  sweeter  the  morn. 
 
 *  The  motto  of  an  English  Rishop  of  the  17th  century.  SOBRIE,  JUSTE, 
 PIE,  —  LAETE,  was  the  kindred  and  comprehensive  motto  over  the  mantel-piece 
 of  one  of  his  Puritan  contemporaries,  the  witty  minister  of  Ipswich,  "our  St. 
 Hilary,"  as  Mather  calls  him,  or,  as  he  calls  himself  in  his  own  book,  "  The  Sim- 
 ple Cobler  of  Agawam." 
 
1 88      SONGS  OF   THE  LIBERAL   FAITH. 
 
 "  Serve  God  and  be  cheerful."     The  winter 
 Rolls  round  to  the  beautiful  spring, 
 
 And  o'er  the  green  grave  of  the  snowdrift 
 The  nest-building  robins  will  sing. 
 
 "  Serve  God  and  be  cheerful."     Look  upward  ! 
 
 God's  countenance  scatters  the  gloom  ; 
 And  the  soft  summer  light  of  his  heaven 
 
 Shines  over  the  cross  and  the  tomb. 
 
 "  Serve  God  and  be  cheerful."     The  wrinkles 
 Of  age  we  may  take  with  a  smile  ; 
 
 But  the  wrinkles  of  faithless  foreboding 
 Are  the  crow's-feet  of  Beelzebub's  guile. 
 
 "  Serve  God  and  be  cheerful."     Religion 
 Looks  all  the  more  lovely  in  white  ; 
 
 And  God  is  best  served  by  his  servant 
 When,  smiling,  he  serves  in  the  light, 
 
 And  lives  out  the  glad  tidings  of  Jesus 
 In  the  sunshine  he  came  to  impart, 
 
 For  the  fruit  of  his  word  and  his  Spirit 
 "  Is  love,  joy,  and  peace  "  in  the  heart. 
 
 "  Serve  God  and  be  cheerful."     Live  nobly, 
 Do  right  and  do  good.     Make  the  best 
 
 Of  the  gifts  and  the  work  put  before  you, 
 And  to  God  without  fear  leave  the  rest. 
 
 Cambridge,  Jan.  i,  1872. 
 
 ORDINATION    HYMN. 
 
 Sung  at  the  ordination  of  Mr.  Francis  Greenwood  Pcabody  as  the  successor  of  Dr. 
 Newell  in  the  pastorate  of  the  First  Congregational  (Unitarian)  Church,  in  Cambridge. 
 March,  31,  1874. 
 
 r\  FATHER  of  the  living  Christ, 
 
 Fount  of  the  living  Word  ! 
 Pour  on  the  shepherd  and  the  flock 
 The  Spirit  of  the  Lord. 
 
A.   R.   ST.   JOHN.  189 
 
 Amid  this  mingled  mystery 
 
 Of  good  and  ill  at  strife, 
 Help  them,  O  God,  in  him  to  find 
 
 The  Way,  the  Truth,  the  Life. 
 
 That  way  together  may  they  tread, 
 That  truth  with  joy  receive, 
 
 That  life  of  heaven,  on  earth  begun, 
 Through  cloud  and  sunshine  live. 
 
 Not  chained  to  creeds,  or  cramped  by  forms, 
 
 With  eyes  that  hail  the  light, 
 In  holy  freedom  keep  their  souls, 
 
 Loyal  to  truth  and  right. 
 
 One  may  they  be  in  faith  and  hope, 
 
 As  one  in  works  of  love, 
 Till  all  be  one  in  Christ  and  thee 
 
 In  the  Great  Church  above. 
 
 A.    R.    ST.    JOHN. 
 
 (1805.) 
 
 Mrs.  A.  R.  St.  John  was  born  in  Boston,  Mass.,  Feb.  24,  1805.  Left 
 an  orphan  at  a  very  early  age,  she  passed  under  the  care  and  into  the 
 family  of  her  brother,  the  late  Colonel  Isaac  Monroe,  of  Baltimore,  Md. 
 He  was  at  that  time  living  in  Boston,  where  he  had  established  and  was 
 editing  the  "  Boston  Patriot."  In  a  few  years  thereafter,  he  removed  to 
 Baltimore,  and  there,  carrying  with  him  his  professional  predilections, 
 established  and  edited  the  "  Baltimore  Patriot."  This  paper  early  became 
 one  of  the  leading  political  and  literary  journals  of  the  day,  marked  by 
 great  ability  in  its  editorial  conduct,  and  by  the  soundness  of  its  views 
 upon  the  great  topics  which  agitated  the  country  previous  to,  during,  and 
 immediately  following  the  War  of  1S12  ;  while  it  continued,  through  the 
 long  period  of  its  founder's  personal  care,  and  by  the  talent  and  culture 
 he  was  able  to  command,  to  sustain  its  high  reputation  throughout  the 
 Union. 
 
 Colonel  Monroe,  faithful  to  the  guardianship  he  had  from  the  first  as- 
 sumed, did  not  forget  to  provide  the  best  education  for  his  sister  which 
 
190     SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 the  city  of  his  adoption  afforded ;  whilst  his  prominent  editorial  and 
 social  position  brought  her  into  frequent  and  close  association  with  many 
 of  the  best  and  most  cultivated  intellects  and  distinguished  statesmen  of 
 the  country,  to  whom  his  house  was  a  familiar  resort.  Thus  she  early  im- 
 bibed a  decided  and  earnest  love,  not  only  of  modern,  but  of  ancient  and 
 classic  literature.  Her  pen,  meanwhile,  was  not  suffered  to  lie  idle, 
 though  in  general  confined  to  local  subjects  of  interest,  or  some  special 
 object  or  occasion.  Hence,  to  the  public,  and  beyond  her  own  private 
 or  social  circle,  is  she  so  little  known  as  an  author.  The  scant  notice  of 
 her  in  Griswold's  "Female  Poets  of  America"  is  due  to  her  aversion  to 
 any  claim  of  literary  rank. 
 
 In  1825  she  was  married  to  Mr.  I.  R.  St.  John,  —  then  partner  in  an 
 eminent  banking-house  in  New  York  and  Augusta,  Ga.,  to  which  latter 
 city  she  immediately  accompanied  him.  There  they  remained  till  1836, 
 when  her  husband  was  called  to  the  New  York  office  of  his  firm ;  and,  after 
 its  dissolution,  they  removed  to  Brooklyn,  in  1842,  where  they  are  still  liv- 
 ing. The  tastes  and  the  convictions  of  Mrs.  St.  John  go  together  in  her 
 devotion  to  the  Unitarian  faith,  —  from  her  childhood  at  once  consistent 
 and  zealous.  In  the  earlier  and  later  ministry  of  the  lamented  Rev. 
 William  Ware  in  New  York,  and  from  the  very  start  of  the  Church  of 
 the  Saviour  in  Brooklyn,  she  has  laid  upon  its  altars  the  offering  of  her 
 fine  and  cultured  mind,  her  ardent  and  sincere  affection,  her  long  life  of 
 active  benevolence  and  unostentatious  piety. 
 
 Of  her  poetical  effusions  we  select  a  few  that  are  specially  adapted  to 
 our  present  purpose. 
 
 DEDICATION    HYMN. 
 
 Written  for  the  consecration  of  the  Church  of  the  Saviour,  Brooklyn,  N.Y., 
 April  24,  1844. 
 
 IV/TAN  in  his  might  and  worldly  skill 
 
 A  temple  rears  to  thee  ; 
 Joy's  echoing  hymns  its  arches  fill 
 With  thankful  ecstasy. 
 
 The  "  grain  of  mustard-seed  "  has  sprung 
 
 A  wide  and  sheltering  tree, 
 And  o'er  thy  gathering  flock  has  flung 
 
 Its  arms  of  majesty. 
 
 The  last  stone  laid,  the  work  well  done. 
 
 Away,  all  earth-born  care ; 
 Whilst  the  full  soul  yields  at  thy  throne 
 
 Its  homage,  praise,  and  prayer. 
 
A.  R.   ST.   JOHN.  191 
 
 These  walls,  great  God,  all-powerful,  wise, 
 
 We  consecrate  to  thee, 
 Grand  Architect  of  earth  and  skies, 
 
 And  world's  sublimity. 
 
 Beneath  the  cross,  in  Jesus'  name, 
 
 Thy  blessing  we  implore  ; 
 Light  with  thy  grace  our  altar's  flame, 
 
 To  guide  us  evermore. 
 
 INSTALLATION    HYMN. 
 
 Written  for  the  installation  of  Rev.  F.  A.  Farley,  D.D.,  as  pastor  of  the  Church  of  the 
 Saviour,  Brooklyn,  N.Y.,  April  25,  1S44. 
 
 A  LMIGHTY  Power,  whose  word  and  will  sustain 
 Unnumbered  worlds  by  some  mysterious  chain, 
 Whose  links  of  air,  unseen,  we  know  to  be 
 Firm  as  all  love  and  truth  that  comes  from  thee  ! 
 
 God  of  the  millions  who,  with  one  accord, 
 Yield  their  heart's  incense  for  thy  precious  word, 
 Warm  from  the  breath  of  inspiration  given, 
 Our  star  of  faith,  pointing  the  path  to  heaven ! 
 
 God  of  our  Saviour  !  Source  of  light  and  life  ! 
 Each  throbbing  pulse  with  thankfulness  is  rife, 
 As  gathering  round  thine  altar,  Holy  ONE, 
 We  pray  to  thee,  through  thy  redeeming  Son  ! 
 
 We  would,  O  Father  !  that  thy  grace  may  shine 
 Upon  thy  servant's  works,  whose  soul  is  thine, — 
 Our  pastor,  brother,  friend,  and  chosen  guide 
 O'er  life's  full  stream,  to  cheer  its  ebbing  tide. 
 
 May  its  pure  beams  illumine  every  word, 
 Enrich  each  tone  that  from  his  lips  is  heard  ; 
 That  deep  within  our  bosoms'  sacred  cell, 
 The  new-born  fervor  may  continuous  dwell. 
 
192  SOA7GS   OF   THE   LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 Let  his  pure  life  a  mirror  ever  be, 
 Where  we,  reflected,  may  our  errors  see  : 
 A  beacon-light  to  guide  us  through  the  storm, 
 A  cheering  flame,  our  fainting  hopes  to  warm. 
 
 And  when  the  sands  of  Time  their  grains  have  spent, 
 And  thou  shalt  ask  "the  talent"  Heaven  has  lent, 
 May  he  a  golden  increase  bring  to  thee, 
 That  "  welcome  "  to  thine  household  he  may  be  ! 
 
 The  following  hymn  was  written  for  the  consecration  of  a  Unitarian 
 chapel  at  Bridgeport,  Conn.,  in  1849.  The  ailusion  in  the  last  stanza  is 
 to  the  death  of  Mr.  Van  Polanen,  whose  stanch  faith  had  founded  the 
 church,  and  to  Madame  Van  Polanen,  who,  after  her  husband's  decease, 
 erected  the  edifice  as  a  memorial  of  his  worth  and  services. 
 
 THE    CHAPEL   AT   BRIDGEPORT. 
 
 \\7E  come,  a  pilgrim  band,  to  kneel, 
 
 Almighty  Power,  to  thee  ; 
 Though  clearer  to  our  souls  we  feel 
 A  Father's  name  to  be. 
 
 As  children  of  thy  grace  and  love, 
 Gathering  around  thy  knee, 
 
 With  filial  confidence  to  move 
 Thy  boundless  sympathy  ; 
 
 We  crave  thy  blessing  on  this  shrine, 
 
 Now  consecrate  to  thee  ; 
 And  may  its  light  with  truth  divine 
 
 Illume  eternity. 
 
 Oh,  wilt  thou  bless  the  heart  that  gave, 
 The  hand  that  planted  here 
 
 This  seed  of  faith,  sown  on  the  grave, 
 Immortal  fruit  to  bear. 
 
A.   R.  ST.  JOHN.  193 
 
 THE    MOTHER. 
 
 A  S  wandering  o'er  Life's  weary  way, 
 
 Through  tangled  brake  and  shadowy  fen, 
 The  sunlight  plains  of  Fortune's  day, 
 
 And  Pleasure's  fairy,  moonlit  glen, — 
 On  the  gulf's  brink  of  Hope's  despair 
 A  mother  cheered  her  soul  with  prayer. 
 
 Kneeling  beside  a  shivered  tree, 
 
 Scathed  by  the  storm-cloud's  blighting  power, 
 Whose  one  branch  green  still  seemed  to  be 
 
 Faith's  triumph-badge  in  life's  dark  hour, — 
 She  to  her  God  her  heart  laid  bare, 
 And  sought  her  dearest  solace  there. 
 
 Thinking  some  piteous  prayer  to  hear 
 From  lips  where  truth  alone  could  speak, 
 
 Where  sorrow's  chill  and  memory's  tear 
 
 Had  chased  their  furrows  down  her  cheek,  — 
 
 I  paused  :  a  bright,  seraphic  smile 
 
 Haloed  around  her  brow  the  while. 
 
 Brief  was  the  plaint  of  earthly  ill,  — 
 
 Xone  'gainst  her  woes  of  Heaven's  decree  : 
 
 u  Father,  submissive  to  thy  will, 
 I  know  that  it  is  meet  for  me ; 
 
 My  lowly  lot  in  world's  estate 
 
 Exchange  I  would  not  with  the  great. 
 
 "  Of  titles,  fortune,  power  bereft,  — 
 A  dead  note  in  the  trump  of  Fame,  — 
 
 Still  are  my  dearest  treasures  left, 
 
 My  husband's  smile  beams  still  the  same / 
 
 My  children,  —  can  on  earth  there  be 
 
 A  richer  diadem  for  me  ? 
 
 "  Father,  my  soul  in  reverence  breathes 
 Its  holiest  love  and  thanks  to  thee  ; 
 
 Full  as  the  gathered  harvest-sheaves, 
 Bound  for  thy  call  —  from  earth  as  free  ; 
 13 
 
194  SONGS   OF   THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 My  spirit's  strength,  its  hopes  and  fears, 
 Contented  tread  life's  vale  of  tears." 
 
 Then  as  deep  silence  closed  around,  — 
 Life's  beating  pulse,  earth's  only  sound,  — 
 
 As  if  the  myriad  spirits  there 
 
 To  break  Faith's  stillness  did  not  dare,  — 
 
 She  slowly  rose  and  sped  her  way, 
 
 Nor  felt  the  thorns  that  in  it  lay, 
 
 Leaving  behind  a  jewel  bright, 
 
 That  trembled  in  the  misty  light. 
 I  grasped  this  record  of  her  prayer, 
 
 And  held  a  heart-mined,  crystal  tear ! 
 Angels  of  light,  of  heavenly  love  ! 
 Are  these  the  gems  ye  wear  above  ? 
 
 Oh,  through  my  startled,  humbled  soul, 
 Such  floods  of  penitential  thought, 
 
 Such  heavenly  music  o'er  it  stole, 
 
 Like  notes  from  cherub-anthems  caught ! 
 
 Her  joyful  prayer,  her  low  estate  :  — 
 
 Read'st  thou  a  lesson,  oh,  earth's  great  ? 
 
 00^400 
 
 WILLIAM.  PARSONS    LUNT. 
 (1805-1857.) 
 
 Rev.  William  Parsons  Lunt,  D.D.,  was  the  son  of  Henry  and  Mary 
 Green  Lunt,  and  was  born  in  Newburyport,  Mass.,  April  21,  1805.  He 
 received  his  early  education  in  Boston,  whither  his  parents  removed 
 while  yet  he  was  an  infant.  At  the  age  of  ten,  he  was  placed  at  the 
 Academy  in  the  neighboring  town  of  Milton,  where  his  preparatory 
 studies  were  pursued  with  marked  diligence  and  success,  and  where  his 
 conscientious  and  blameless  conduct  gave  beautiful  promise  of  his  stain- 
 less and  consecrated  manhood.  Having  entered  Harvard  College  in  1819, 
 he  graduated  in  1823.  He  then  taught  school  for  a  year  in  Plymouth, 
 where  he  was  married  in  1829  to  Ellen  Hobart,  daughter  of  Barnabas 
 Hobart,  of  that  town.  Leaving  Plymouth,  he  returned  to  Boston  to 
 study  law,  but  soon  found  that  another  profession  had  greater  attractions 
 
WILLIAM  PARSONS  Ll'XT.  195 
 
 for  him,  and  accordingly  began  his  preparation  for  the  Christian  min- 
 istry at  the  Cambridge  Divinity  School,  in  1825.  He  was  ordained 
 June  M.  1828,  as  the  pastor  of  the  Second  Congregational  Unitarian 
 Society  of   New  York  City. 
 
 irduous  labors  in  the  great  metropolis  continued  until  November, 
 \  when  he  retired  from  his  post,  and  sought  comparative  rest  for  a 
 time  through  only  occasional  supplies  of  vacant   pulpits.     He  was  in- 
 stalled as  associate  pastor  of  the  Unitarian  Church  in  Quincy,  M 
 June  Rev.  Peter  Whitney,  who  had  long  been  settled  over  the 
 
 society,  still  retaining  his  official  connection  with  it.  Mr.  Whitney,  after 
 a  ministry  to  this  church  of  forty-three  years,  died  in  1843  »  anc^  Mr. 
 Lunt  was  thenceforth  its  sole  pastor  until  his  death  in  1S57.  The  latter, 
 having  for  a  long  time  cherished  a  desire  to  visit  the  Holy  Land,  preached 
 Dec.  28,  1S56,  what  proved  to  be  his  last  sermon  to  his  beloved  people, 
 and  embarked  for  his  pilgrimage  to  Palestine  on  board  a  vessel  that  bore 
 him  directly  on,  past  European  shores,  to  the  distant  East.  Having 
 arrived  in  Egypt,  he  pursued  his  way  to  Sinai  ;  but  on  the  day  after  he 
 left  the  Convent,  and  while  still  prosecuting  his  journey  to  Jerusalem, 
 he  was  taken  sick,  and  his  disease  became  more  and  more  alarming  as 
 the  party  moved  on.  All  effort  that  could  be  made  for  his  recovery 
 proved  unavailing;  and  during  the  second  night  after  his  arrival  at 
 Akabah,  the  ancient  Ezion-Geber,  at  the  head  of  the  Eastern  arm  of  the 
 Red  Sea,  he  sank  to  his  rest,  almost  in  sight  of  the  blessed  "acres" 
 which  he  had  travelled  so  far  to  behold  and  tread.  He  was  buried, 
 March  21,  1S57,  in  a  grave  excavated  in  the  upper  part  of  a  mound  out 
 on  the  desert,  a  short  distance  from  the  castled  village.  Six  years  after- 
 ward, a  party  of  Americans  and  foreigners  were  pursuing  this  same  route 
 to  the  Holy  City,  when  one  of  them,  on  their  approach  to  Akabah,  re- 
 calling some  beautiful  lines  which  Rev.  S.  G.  Bui  finch,  D.D.,  had  written 
 on  the  death  of  Dr.  Lunt  for  the  "Christian  Register,"  and  to  which  he 
 had  given  the  name  of  this  place  as  a  title,  was  thus  reminded  that  they 
 were  drawing  near  the  spot  where  the  eminent  and  venerated  Christian 
 preacher,  scholar,  poet,  and  saint 
 
 "  Turned  dying  eyes 
 Upon  Asian  skies, 
 And  dropped  on  Moslem  ground." 
 
 After  reaching  the  village  and  making  various  inquiries,  they  were  led 
 to  the  grave,  but  found  no  stone  to  tell  the  stranger  where  the  body  lay. 
 They  procured  a  slab  from  the  castle,  chiselled  it  with  suitable  inscrip- 
 tions, set  it  firmly  into  the  earth  over  the  sacred  dust,  and  requested  the 
 chiefs  of  the  town,  and  Hassaneen  the  dragoman,  to  have  a  watchful 
 care  of  the  rude  and  simple  monument,  and  to  direct  to  it,  as  they  should 
 have  opportunity,  such  of  our  countrymen  as  might  in  subsequent  years 
 visit  this  remote  settlement  on  their  way  from  Sinai  to  Jerusalem.  Dr. 
 Bulfinch's  lines,  as  well  as  Dr.  Frothingham's  touching  "  Lament," 
 written  on  the  same  occasion,  may  be  found  elsewhere  in  this  volume. 
 
196  SOJVGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 Dr.  Lunt  was  honored  with  the  degree  of  D.D.  by  Harvard  College 
 in  1850.  Numerous  pamphlet  sermons  and  biographical  and  historical 
 discourses,  as  well  as  many  articles  which  he  contributed  to  the  "  Chris- 
 tian Examiner"  and  other  periodicals,  illustrated  his  extensive  range  of 
 knowledge,  his  depth  and  power  of  thought,  his  finished  style  and  his 
 chastened  eloquence,  and  above  all  the  strength  and  beauty  of  his  Chris- 
 tian faith.  Among  the  most  remarkable  of  his  published  discourses  are 
 two  which  he  delivered,  Sept.  29,  1839,  on  the  Two  Hundredth  Anni- 
 versary of  the  Gathering  of  the  First  Congregational  Church  of  Quincy; 
 one  at  the  interment  of  John  Quincy  Adams,  sixth  President  of  the 
 United  States,  March  11,  1848  ;  one  commemorative  of  Daniel  Webster, 
 Nov.  25,  1852  ;  one  before  the  Theological  School,  at  Cambridge,  in  1852  ; 
 and  the  Dudleian  Lecture,  in  1855.  In  reference  to  the  last  two,  Rev. 
 Chandler  Robbins,  D.D.,  in  preaching  a  sermon  on  the  character  and  life 
 of  Dr.  Lunt,  said  that  they  were  among  the  "  most  profound,  brilliant,  and 
 masterly  productions  that  have  illustrated  the  highest  of  the  sciences  in 
 recent  times,"  and  that  they  "at  once  lifted  their  author  to  a  high  rank 
 in  the  esteem  of  his  professional  brethren  for  metaphysical  acuteness, 
 erudition,  and  eloquence." 
 
 This  able  preacher  and  "thoughtful  scholar"  also  compiled,  in  1841, 
 an  excellent  hymn-book,  "  The  Christian  Psalter,"  and  was  himself  a  poet 
 of  no  ordinary  gifts  or  rank.  His  productions  in  this  department  of  litera- 
 ture reveal  the  grave,  meditative  spirit  of  the  author,  while  they  show  that 
 he  was  possessed  of  a  high  degree  of  imaginative  power  and  lyric  fervor. 
 Many  of  them  were  hymns  and  odes  written  for  the  Quincy  Church 
 Sunday  School,  for  Installation  Services,  Anniversary  Celebrations,  and 
 other  like  occasions.  His  longest  poem  was  one  which  he  read  before 
 the  Phi  Beta  Kappa  Society  in  Cambridge,  in  1837.  A  small  but  finely 
 printed  and  elegantly  bound  volume,  edited  by  his  daughter,  Mary  E. 
 Lunt,  and  published  by  his  son,  William  P.  Lunt,  has  very  recently  been* 
 issued  under  the  title  of  "Gleanings,"  giving  brief  selections  or  extracts 
 from  his  prose  writings,  and' also  seme  of  his  hymns  and  poems.  From 
 this  little  book  we  copy  a  few  pieces  to  enrich  our  own  pages,  and  to 
 hint  to  the  reader  what  choice  things  beside  may  be  found  in  Miss  Lunt's 
 beautiful  memorial  of  her  father.  The  following  lines  are  in  many 
 Church  Collections  :  — 
 
 OUR   FOREFATHERS. 
 
 Written  for  the  public  schools  of  Quincy,  and  sung  by  them  at  their  Fourth  of  July 
 Celebration,  1837. 
 
 T17HEN,  driven  by  oppression's  rod, 
 Our  fathers  fled  beyond  the  sea, 
 Their  care  was  first  to  honor  God, 
 And  next  to  leave  their  children  free. 
 
WILLIAM  PARSONS  LUXT.  197 
 
 Above  the  forest's  gloomy  shade 
 The  altar  and  the  school  appeared  j 
 
 On  that  the  gifts  of  faith  were  laid, 
 
 In  this  their  precious  hopes  were  reared. 
 
 Armed  with  intelligence  and  zeal, 
 
 Their  sons  shook  off  the  tyrant's  chain, 
 
 The  rights  of  freemen  quick  to  feel, 
 And  nobly  daring  to  maintain. 
 
 The  altar  and  the  school  still  stand, 
 
 The  sacred  pillars  of  our  trust, 
 And  Freedom's  sons  shall  fill  the  land 
 
 When  we  are  sleeping  in  the  dust. 
 
 Before  thine  altar,  Lord,  we  bend, 
 
 With  grateful  song  and  fervent  prayer, 
 
 For  thou  who  wast  our  fathers'  friend 
 Wilt  make  our  offspring  still  thy  care. 
 
 THE   CHRISTMAS   TREE. 
 
 Written  for  the  Christmas  Celebration  of  the  Sunday  School  of  Dr.  Lunt's  Church  at 
 Quincy,  Dec.  25,  1849. 
 
 CHILDREN. 
 
 THE  Christmas  Tree  !     The  Christmas  Tree ! 
 
 Twas  planted  long  ago  ; 
 The  angels  sung  their  hymn  above, 
 As  we  sing  ours  below  : 
 
 Of  auld  lang  syne  we  sing, 
 Of  Christmas  long  ago  ; 
 The  angels  sung  their  hymn  above, 
 As  we  sing  ours  below. 
 
 The  Tree  by  holy  hands  was  set 
 
 In  days  of  auld  lang  syne  ; 
 Its  boughs  with  heavenly  dews  were  wet, 
 
 And  hung  with  fruit  divine. 
 Of  auld  lang  syne  we  sing,  &c. 
 
I9§  SONGS   OF   THE  LIBERAL  FAITH, 
 
 Thousands  have  met  around  the  Tree 
 In  days  of  auld  lang  syne  ; 
 
 Have  plucked  the  fruit,  and  thankfully 
 Enjoyed  the  food  divine. 
 
 Of  auld  land  syne  we  sing,  &c. 
 
 The  Tree  with  gifts  has  loaded  been 
 From  days  of  auld  lang  syne  ; 
 
 And  still  through  leaves  of  living  green 
 The  Saviour's  presents  shine. 
 Of  auld  lang  syne  we  sing,  &c. 
 
 TEACHERS. 
 
 Come,  children,  take  the  gifts  you  see, 
 
 And  to  your  minds  recall 
 The  fruit  upon  the  heavenly  Tree 
 That  grows  and  blooms  for  all. 
 Of  auld  lang  syne  we  sing, 
 Of  Christmas  long  ago  ; 
 The  angels  sung  their  hymn  above, 
 As  we  sing  ours  below. 
 
 THE    HIGHER   BIRTH. 
 
 "PAREWELL,  farewell,  thou  fostering  Earth! 
 
 The  gift  of  life  I  now  resign  : 
 The  spirit  waits  a  higher  birth  ; 
 My  useless  dust  I  now  resign. 
 
 From  thee  rich  stores  of  thought  I've  gained  } 
 Thy  various  forms  excite  the  mind, 
 
 Amidst  thy  scenes  of  wonder  trained  : 
 I  leave  them  all  behind. 
 
 The  beauty  that  is  on  thy  brow 
 
 Waked  infant  passion  in  my  heart  j 
 
 But  higher  glories  ravish  now, 
 And  bid  me  hence  depart. 
 
WILLIAM  PARSONS  LUNT.  199 
 
 Thy  tender  ties,  relations  dear, 
 
 First  erently  taught  me  how  to  love: 
 
 The  germ  which  Nature  planted  here 
 Must  grow  and  bloom  above. 
 
 The  stormy  blasts  have  firmer  made 
 The  spreading  roots  of  virtue's  tree ; 
 
 The  soul,  by  cares  and  sorrows  swayed, 
 Rests  in  eternity. 
 
 But  chiefly  in  thy  radiant  face, 
 
 Where  lower  beauties  meet  and  shine, 
 
 My  musing  spirit  learned  to  trace 
 The  lineaments  divine. 
 
 My  race  is  run,  my  toils  are  o'er, 
 
 And  safely  reached  the  destined  goal : 
 
 And  thou,  fair  Earth,  canst  do  no  more 
 To  consecrate  the  soul. 
 
 I  drop  my  chrysalis  of  clay : 
 
 On  new-fledged  wings  I  take  my  flight ; 
 Up  to  the  brilliant  Source  of  day 
 
 I  rise  from  Death's  dark  night. 
 
 LATIN    HYMN.  — "LUX   ECCE    SURGIT   AUREA." 
 
 CEE  !   the  golden  morning  rises, 
 Pallid  shadows  haste  away  ; 
 Headlong  night  no  more  surprises, 
 Leads  no  more  the  steps  astray. 
 
 Light  like  this  break  in  and  scatter 
 Every  cloud  that  shades  the  soul ! 
 
 Nought  deceptive  may  we  utter, 
 No  dark  thoughts  within  us  roll. 
 
200  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 All  day  long  may  truth,  presiding 
 Over  hand  and  eye  and  tongue, 
 
 Word  and  look  and  action  guiding, 
 Keep  us  pure,  and  make  us  strong. 
 
 When  bright  Morn  with  rosy  touches 
 Lifts  the  windows  of  the  sky, 
 
 Lo,  a  witness  stands  and  watches 
 All  we  do  with  piercing  eye. 
 
 And  when  Eve,  with  dewy  fingers, 
 
 Spreads  her  veil  and  clouds  the  light, 
 
 Still  that  awful  presence  lingers, 
 
 And  that  eye  looks  through  the  night. 
 1842. 
 
 The  following  hymns,  not  contained  in  the  volume  of  "Gleanings," 
 have  been  kindly  furnished  us  by  members  of  Dr.  Lunt's  family,  and  are 
 copied  from  his  unpublished  manuscripts  or  from  printed  orders  of  ser- 
 vices. 
 
 As  an  indication  of  this  preacher's  remarkable  natural  gifts  as  a  poet, 
 we  give  here  a  hymn  which  he  wrote  when  he  was  only  twelve  years  old, 
 and  which  shows  a  matureness  of  thought,  a  facility  for  poetic  composi- 
 tion, and  a  degree  of  Christian  experience,  which  might  well  become  a 
 singer  of  twice  the  age. 
 
 THE    SENT   OF   THE   FATHER. 
 
 f~\  SHALL  our  hearts  that  Friend  forsake 
 Who  gave  himself  that  we  might  live  ? 
 No,  let  our  drooping  faith  awake, 
 Our  grateful  love  may  it  revive. 
 
 Low  at  thy  feet  we  meekly  sit, 
 
 Blest  Teacher  of  the  Father's  will  ! 
 
 To  thee  let  every  thought  submit : 
 Say  to  our  passions,  —  Peace,  be  still. 
 
WILLIAM  PARSONS  LUNT.  201 
 
 Thou  who  hast  kindled  in  our  way 
 
 With  Heaven's  own  torch  a  cheering  light, 
 
 To  guide  us  to  the  realms  of  day, 
 
 Through  error's  maze,  and  sorrow's  night,  — 
 
 In  joy,  in  woe,  in  life,  in  death, 
 
 O  may  thy  truth  within  us  reign  ; 
 Be  ours  the  spirit  thou  didst  breathe, 
 
 Be  ours  the  victory  thou  didst  gain. 
 
 INSTALLATION    HYMN, 
 
 Hymn  sung  at   the  installation  of   Rev.  George  W.   Briggs,  in  Plymouth,  as  colleague 
 pastor  with  Rev.  James  Kendall,  D.D.,  Jan.  3,  1838. 
 
 TXTO  the  wilderness  was  Hagar  driven, 
 
 And  sat  and  wept  to  think  her  child  must  die  j 
 But  now  that  child,  to  vigorous  manhood  risen, 
 Beholds  a  garden  blooming  in  his  eye. 
 
 Young  watchman  of  the  church,  thy  station  take, 
 Where  the  gray  Fathers  of  our  Empire  stood, 
 
 And  saw  the  morning  of  our  glory  break 
 
 From  error's  night,  and  through  misfortune's  cloud. 
 
 The  Pilgrim  heart  beats  true  and  faithful  here, 
 Still  fondly  cherishing  the  pastor's  name  ; 
 
 And  here  have  honored  hands  for  many  a  year 
 Fed  and  renewed  the  altar's  sacred  11  a  me. 
 
 A  blessing  on  this  hour,  O  God,  we  crave, 
 
 From  thee  whose  spirit  blessed  thy  Church  of  old  ; 
 
 May  fervent  lips,  gifted  with  power  to  save, 
 
 God's  truth,  man's  freedom,  to  this  flock  unfold. 
 
202  SONGS   OF   THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 HYMN    FOR   A   SUNDAY  SCHOOL. 
 
 Dr.  Lunt  was  fond  of  writing  hymns  for  his  Sunday  school.  Many  of  his  sweetest 
 verses  were  for  its  various  celebrations  and  anniversaries.  We  have  already  given  one  or 
 two.     This  is  another,  sung  at  the  closing  of  the  school,  Nov.  15,  1846. 
 
 TIT  ARK  !  the  gentle  Shepherd's  voice 
 
 "Little  children,  come  to  me." 
 "  In  that  word  our  souls  rejoice, 
 And  we  give  our  hearts  to  thee." 
 
 "  Take  my  yoke,  and  of  me  learn. 
 
 I  will  show  you  what  is  good." 
 "  Saviour  !  yes,  to  thee  we  turn, 
 
 Feed  our  minds  with  heavenly  food." 
 
 "  None  can  to  the  Father  come 
 But  by  me  the  Living  Way." 
 
 "  Saviour  !  guide  us  to  our  home, 
 And  the  Father's  love  display." 
 
 "  I  was  once,  like  you,  a  child, 
 And  a  child's  subjection  knew." 
 
 "  Teach  us,  Saviour,  to  be  mild, 
 Kind,  obedient,  and  true." 
 
 "  Cup  and  cross,  and  thorny  crown 
 Tell  what  sorrows  I  have  known." 
 
 "  Saviour  !  send  thy  spirit  down, 
 Make  thy  patience  all  our  own." 
 
 "  Though  in  death's  repose  I  lay, 
 I've  ascended  to  the  skies." 
 
 "  Saviour  !  thou  hast  led  the  way, 
 Teach  our  spirits  how  to  rise." 
 
WILLIAM  PARSONS  LC.XT.  203 
 
 THE    CHANTING    CHERUBS. 
 
 Written  for  the  anniversary  celebration  of  the  Sunday-school  Society  connected  with 
 the  Federal  Street  Church,  Boston.     Sung  May  3">  1849* 
 
 "jV/TUSIC'S  the  language  of  cherubs  in  glory, 
 
 Chanting  the  praise  of  the  wonderful  Child  ; 
 
 Telling  in  melody  Bethlehem's  story, 
 
 Hymning  the  triumphs  of  earth's  Undefiled. 
 
 Hark  !  on  our  ears  breaks  the  many-tongued  choru  •  ; 
 
 Minstrels  celestial  in  vision  we  see  : 
 Winged  voices  scatter  the  Saviour's  words  o'er  us,  — 
 
 "  Suffer  little  children  to  come  unto  me." 
 
 Music  binds  children  to  cherubs  in  glory, 
 
 Chanting  the  Blessed  One's  praises  on  high  ; 
 
 Catch  we  their  glad  strains,  repeat  we  their  story  ; 
 Back  from  young  lips  let  the  winged  sounds  fly. 
 
 Sweetest  and  best  of  the  words  that  resounded 
 From  Olivet's  mount  or  by  Galilee's  sea  ; 
 
 List !  he  repeats  them,  by  cherubs  surrounded,  — 
 "  Suffer  little  children  to  come  unto  me." 
 
 CREATION'S    PRAYER. 
 
 "And  it  shall  come  to  pass  in  thru  day,  I  will  hear,  saith  the  Lord,  I  will  hear  the 
 heavens,  and  they  shall  hear  the  earth  ;  and  the  earth  shall  hear  the  corn,  and  the  wine, 
 and  the  oil  ;  and  they  shall  hear  Jezreel."  —  Hosea  ii.  21,  22. 
 
 /^NE  prayer,  with  never-ceasing  sound, 
 Circles  Creation's  ample  round  ;    - 
 While  all  below,  and  all  above, 
 Turn,  genial  Parent,  to  thy  love. 
 
 The  corn,  and  vine,  and  olive  fair, 
 Hearken  to  needy  mortal's  prayer  ; 
 And  hope,  from  earth's  all-fostering  breast, 
 To  draw  their  fatness,  life,  and  zest. 
 
204  S0ATGS   OF   THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 The  nightly  mother  for  her  brood, 
 Anxious  to  yield  their  wonted  food, 
 Looks  up  and  asks  the  heavenly  powers 
 For  quickening  heat  and  softening  showers. 
 
 The  flying  clouds  and  fiery  ball 
 Listen  to  earth's  entreating  call ; 
 But  these  implore  a  Will  divine 
 For  leave  to  drop,  and  power  to  shine. 
 
 Thus  through  Creation's  ample  round 
 One  prayer  is  heard  with  pauseless  sound  ; 
 While  all  below,  and  all  above 
 Turn,  genial  Parent,  to  thy  love. 
 
 Dr.  Lunt  began  a  versification*  of  the  Psalms.  He  completed  only 
 the  first  three,  leaving  the  fourth  in  an  unfinished  state.  We. cannot 
 close  our  notice  of  him  and  of  his  productions  without  reference  to  the 
 beautiful  poem  which  he  wrote  for  the  laying  of  the  corner-stone  of  the 
 Sailor's  Snug  Harbor,  at  Quincy,  July  14,  1856.  This  was  his  last  poem  ; 
 and  the  author's  recital  of  it  at  the  time  and  place  just  mentioned  pro- 
 duced a  deep  effect  upon  all  who  heard  him.  Father  Taylor,  who  was 
 present,  was  most  powerfully  moved,  as  those  can  understand  who 
 know  what  was  his  deep  sympathy  and  love  for  seamen,  and  what  was 
 his  great  tender  heart.  The  lines  are  given  in  full  in  Miss  Lunt's 
 "  Gleanings."     We  give  here  only  the  closing  ones. 
 
 And  when  the  Ancient  Mariner  shall  see 
 
 The  gloomy  waters  of  Eternity, 
 
 And  in  his  need,  despairing  help  below, 
 
 Call  for  a  Pilot's  skill  to  steer  him  through, 
 
 Then  may  that  form  benign,  whose  power  to  save 
 
 Held  trembling  Peter  steady  on  the  wave, 
 
 Conduct  the  trusting  soul,  in  safety  o'er, 
 
 To  a  Snug  Harbor  on  the  heavenly  shore. 
 
FREDERIC  HENRY  HEDGE.  205 
 
 FREDERIC    HENRY    HEDGE. 
 (1805.) 
 
 Rev.  Frederic  II.  HEDGE,  D.D.,  was  born  In  Cambridge,  Mass.,  Dec. 
 12,  E805,  and  was  the  son  of  Levi  Hedge,  LL.D.,  who  from  1S00  was  a 
 teacher  at  Harvard  College  for  thirty-two  years,  having  served  succes- 
 sively as  Tutor,  a  Professor  of  Logic,  Ethics,  and  Metaphysics,  and  Alford 
 Professor  of  Moral  Philosophy  and  Civil  Polity,  and  whose  "  Elements 
 of  Logic  "  passed  through  many  editions,  and  was  used  in  nearly  all  the 
 colleges  and  more  advanced  schools  in  the  country.  The  father  of  Levi 
 Hedge  was  Rev.  Lemuel  Hedge,  who  was  the  minister  at  Warwick, 
 Mass.,  and  a  classmate  and  friend  of  the  patriot,  Joseph  Warren,  in 
 whose  pocket,  when  the  latter  had  fallen  at  Bunker  Hill,  was  found  a 
 letter  which  the  former  had  written,  expressive  of  sympathy  with  the 
 American  cause.  The  mother  of  Dr.  Hedge  was  a  grand-daughter  of 
 Edward  Holyoke,  President  of  Harvard  College  from  1737  to  1769. 
 
 In  1S1S  he  accompanied  George  Bancroft  to  Germany,  and  there 
 studied  at  Ilfeld  and  Schulpforte  ;  returned  to  America,  and  graduated 
 at  Harvard  College  in  1S25,  having  been  elected  class-poet  ;  and, 
 three  years  later,  graduated  at  the  Theological  School  at  Cambridge. 
 He  became  the  pastor  of  the  Congregational  Church  at  West  Cam- 
 bridge, now  Arlington,  May  20,  1S29.  He  married,  Sept.  7,  1830,  Lucy 
 T.  Pierce,  daughter  of  Rev.  John  Pierce,  D.D.,  of  Brookline,  Mass. 
 Tn  1S35  he  became  the  minister  of  the  Unitarian  Church  at  Bangor, 
 Me.,  and  during  his  settlement  there  visited  Europe  again  (1847- 
 1S4S),  and  spent  a  winter  in  Italy.  In  1850  he  accepted  a  call  to  the 
 We.-tminster  Church  in  Providence,  R.I.,  and,  six  years  later,  took 
 charge  of  the  parish  in  Brookline  of  which  his  father-in-law  had  formerly 
 been  so  long  the  well-known  and  venerated  minister,  and  added  to  his 
 parochial  labors  for  some  years,  from  1857,  the  duties  of  Professor  of 
 Ecclesiastical  History  in  the  Cambridge  Theological  School.  In  1852 
 he  was  honored  with  the  degree  of  D.D.  by  Harvard  College,  of  which 
 he  was  appointed  Professor  of  German  Literature  in  1872,  when  he  sur- 
 rendered his  charge  at  Brookline,  and  removed  to  Cambridge,  where  he 
 still  continues  in  his  academic  office  and  work,  and  occupies,  from  Sun- 
 day to  Sunday,  the  pulpits  of  many  of  the  liberal  churches.  Among  the 
 various  other  important  positions  which  he  has  held  may  be  mentioned 
 that  of  editor  of  the  "Christian  Examiner,"  and  also  that  of  President  of 
 the  American  Unitarian  Association. 
 
 Dr.  Hedge  has  been,  in  his  lifetime,  a  most  learned  and  industrious 
 writer  and  author  as  well.  In  184S  he  published  a  large  volume,  "  The 
 Prose  Writers  of  Germany,"  in  which  he  gave  original  sketches  of 
 numerous  authors  in  German  literature,  and  extracts  from  their  writings, 
 largely  translated  by  himself;  in  1S53,  a  "  Liturgy  for  the  Use  of  the 
 
206  SOJVGS   OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 Church,"  and  also,  in  connection  with  Rev.  Dr.,  now  Bishop,  Hunting- 
 ton, "Hymns  for  the  Church;  "  in  1865,  "  Reason  in  Religion,"  and,  in 
 1870,  "The  Primeval  World,"  two  volumes  in  the  interest  of  the  Liberal 
 Faith,  which  have  attracted  much  attention,  the  latter  having  been  even 
 translated  into  German,  and  published  at  Berlin.  From  time  to  time  he 
 has  published  versions  of  minor  poems  of  Schiller,  Goethe,  and  many 
 other  German  writers  ;  while  the  sermons,  orations,  essays,  reviews,  &c. 
 which  he  has  given  to  the  press,  in  pamphlet  or  magazine  form,  and 
 which  extend  through  a  period  of  more  than  forty  years,  are  too  numer- 
 ous to  be  mentioned  here  in  detail.  Among  his  most  noteworthy  articles, 
 published  in  the  "Christian  Examiner,"  "Putnam's  Monthly,"  the  "At- 
 lantic," the  "  Religious  Magazine,"  and  other  periodicals,  are  those  which 
 he  has  written  on  Transcendentalism,  Augustine,  Leibnitz,  Genius,  Irony, 
 the  Method  of  History,  and  Schopenhauer.  Of  his  orations  and  ad- 
 dresses, we  may  mention  the  one  given,  in  1840,  before  the  Phi  Beta 
 Kappa  Society  at  Cambridge,  on  "Conservatism  and  Reform  ;  "  another, 
 at  the  request  of  the  Germans  of  Boston,  at  the  great  Schiller  Festival  in 
 that  city,  in  1859  ;  and  another  still,  which  was  delivered,  in  1S66,  before 
 the  Alumni  of  Harvard  College,  and  which  has  led  to  a  great  extension 
 of  the  elective  principle  in  the  studies  of  that  University.  All  these 
 numerous  productions  are  marked  by  the  great  ability,  the  vast  erudi- 
 tion, the  profound  thought,  the  chastened  and  felicitous  diction,  and  the 
 rare  combination  of  the  philosophic  and  poetic  qualities  of  mind,  which 
 distinguish  this  author,  preacher,  and  lecturer. 
 
 Dr.  Hedge  is,  moreover,  one  of  the  best  of  hymn-writers,  though  he 
 has  not  written  so  much  in  this  line  as  we  could  wish  he  had  done.  We 
 have  gathered  from  various  sources  all  that  we  could  find,  and  present 
 them  here.  Most  of  them  may  be  found  in  the  "  Hymns  for  the  Church," 
 compiled  by  himself  and  Dr.  Huntington. 
 
 AN    INVOCATION. 
 
 A  part  of  a  hymn  of  ten  stanzas,  which  was  written  for  the  ordination  of  Mr.  D.  H. 
 Barlow  as  pastor  of  the  Second  Congregational  Society  in  Lynn,  Mass.,  Dec.  9,  1829. 
 The  verses  given  here  are  in  a  greatly  altered  and  revised  form. 
 
 SOVEREIGN  and  transforming  Grace, 
 
 We  invoke  thy  quickening  power  ■ 
 Reign  the  spirit  of  this  place, 
 Bless  the  purpose  of  this  hour. 
 
 Holy  and  creative  Light ! 
 
 We  invoke  thy  kindling  ray  ; 
 Dawn  upon  our  spirits'  night, 
 
 Turn  our  darkness  into  day. 
 
FREDERIC  HENRY  HEDGE.  207 
 
 To  the  anxious  soul  impart 
 
 Hope  all  other  hopes  above  j 
 Stir  the  dull  and  hardened  heart 
 
 With  a  lonmnjr  and  a  love. 
 
 Give  the  struggling  peace  for  strife  ; 
 
 Give  the  doubting  light  for  gloom  ; 
 Speed  the  living  into  life  ; 
 
 Warn  the  (King  of  their  doom  ; 
 
 Work  in  all,  in  all  renew, 
 
 Day  by  day,  the  life  divine ; 
 All  our  wills  to  thee  subdue, 
 
 All  our  hearts  to  thee  incline. 
 
 BENEATH    THINE    HAMMER. 
 
 Written  at  a  time  of  severe  trial  and  deep  depression. 
 
 "DENEATH  thine  hammer,  Lord,  I  lie 
 
 With  contrite  spirit  prone  ; 
 Oh,  mould  me  till  to  self  I  die, 
 i&\d  live  to  thee  alone  ! 
 
 With  frequent  disappointments  sore, 
 
 And  ninny  a  bitter  pain, 
 Thou  laborest  at  my  being's  core 
 
 Till  I  be  formed  again. 
 
 Smite,  Lord  !  thine  hammer's  needful  wound 
 
 My  baffled  hopes  confess  ; 
 Thine  anvil  is  the  sense  profound 
 
 Of  mine  own  nothingness. 
 
 Smite,  till  from  all  its  idols  free, 
 
 And  filled  with  love  divine, 
 My  heart  shall  know  no  good  but  thee, 
 
 And  have  no  will  but  thine. 
 
208  SONGS   OF   THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 This  hymn  seems  to  us  worthy  of  a  place  among  the  best  ever  written. 
 It  was  composed  by  Dr.  Hedge  for  a  confirmation  service  in  his  church 
 at  Bangor,  on  Good  Friday,  1843.  We  regret  to  see  that  in  some  of  the 
 Unitarian  Collections  it  has  appeared  only  in  part,  and  that  certain  com- 
 pilers in  other  communions  have  marked  it  "Anonymous." 
 
 THE    CRUCIFIXION. 
 
 "T*WAS  the  day  when  God's  Anointed 
 Died  for  us  the  death  appointed, 
 
 Bleeding  on  the  guilty  cross  ; 
 Day  of  darkness,  day  of  terror, 
 Deadly  fruit  of  ancient  error, 
 
 Nature's  fall,  and  Eden's  loss. 
 
 Haste,  prepare  the  bitter  chalice ! 
 Gentile  hate  and  Jewish  malice 
 
 Lift  the  royal  victim  high  — 
 Like  the  serpent,  wonder-gifted, 
 Which  the  Prophet  once  uplifted  — 
 
 For  a  sinful  world  to  die  ! 
 
 Conscious  of  the  deed  unholy, 
 Nature's  pulses  beat  more  slowly 
 
 And  the  sun  his  light  denied  ;        * 
 Darkness  wrapped  the  sacred  city, 
 And  the  earth  with  fear  and  pity 
 
 Trembled  when  the  Just  One  died. 
 
 It  is  finished,  Man  of  sorrows  ! 
 From  thy  cross  our  nature  borrows 
 
 Strength  to  bear  and  conquer  thus. 
 While  exalted  there  we  view  thee, 
 Mighty  Sufferer,  draw  us  to  thee, 
 
 Sufferer  victorious ! 
 
 Not  in  vain  for  us  uplifted, 
 Man  of  sorrows,  wonder-gifted  ! 
 
 May  that  sacred  symbol  be. 
 Eminent  amid  the  ages, 
 Guide  of  heroes  and  of  sages, 
 
 May  it  guide  us  still  to  thee  ! 
 
FREDERIC  HENRY  HEDGE.  209 
 
 Still  to  thee,  whose  love  unbounded 
 Sorrow's  deep  for  us  hath  sounded, 
 
 Perfected  by  conflicts  sore. 
 Glory  to  thy  cross  for  ever ! 
 Star  that  points  our  high  endeavor 
 
 Whither  thou  hast  gone  before. 
 
 CHRISTMAS    HYMN. 
 
 Written  for  u  Hymns  of  the  Church  of  Christ." 
 
 "HPWAS  in  the  East,  the  mystic  East, 
 
 Where  .Time  his  race  began, 
 Where  new-born  Nature  spread  the  feast, 
 For  new  created  man,  — 
 
 The  tree  of  life  was  planted  first, 
 
 So  holy  Scriptures  tell, 
 Before  the  earth  with  sin  was  cursed, 
 
 And  man  from  Eden  fell. 
 
 That  tree  un tasted  passed  away, 
 
 And  sin  and  sorrov;  grew, 
 And  tarried  long  the  wished -for  day 
 
 To  waiting  Israel  due  :  — 
 
 Till  from  the  land  where  Jordan  old 
 
 Still  washes  Judah's  shore, 
 When  God's  own  hand  the  page  unrolled, 
 
 Of  Judah's  sacred  lore, 
 
 Sprung,  to  requite  that  early  loss, 
 
 From  David's  royal  root, 
 Another  Tree,  whose  stem  the  cross, 
 
 And  Christendom  its  fruit. 
 
210  SONGS   OF   THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 Blest  be  the  Tree  of  life  divine  ! 
 
 The  hand  that  gave  it  blest !  • 
 Lord,  through  the  earth  extend  its  line, 
 
 And  give  the  nations  rest ! 
 
 In  us  implant  its  sacred  seed, 
 And  with  thy  grace  bedew, 
 
 And  let  it,  ripening  into  deed, 
 For  aye  itself  renew. 
 
 HYMN. 
 
 Sung  at  the  ordination  of  Mr.  F.  A.  Whitney,  Brighton,  Feb.  21,  1S44,  but  written  by  Dr. 
 Hedge  for  his  own  ordination,  at  West  Cambridge,  in  1829.  One  stanza  in  the  original  is 
 lost. 
 
 T    O  !  another  offering 
 
 To  thy  courts  this  day  we  bring ; 
 And  another  laborer  here, 
 To  thy  vineyard's  service  cheer. 
 Welcome  fellow  laborer,  thou  ! 
 Lord,  accept  thy  servant's  vow ! 
 
 In  thy  service  he  would  live  — 
 Life  and  strength  to  thee  doth  give  ; 
 Nourished  with  immortal  truth, 
 May  the  vigor  of  his  youth, 
 Poured  upon  thy  altar,  be 
 Grateful  incense,  Lord,  to  thee. 
 
 Bless  him  who  this  day  doth  give ; 
 Bless  them  who  this  day  receive. 
 Guardian,  who  dost  never  sleep  ! 
 Guard  the  shepherd  and  the  sheep ; 
 Days  of  earthly  pasture  past, 
 Take  them  to  thy  fold  at  last. 
 
FREDERIC  HENRY  HEDGE.  211 
 
 THE    MORNING   STAR. 
 
 From  the  "  New  England  Magazino." 
 
 A    SINGLE  star  how  bright, 
 From  earth-mists  free, 
 In  heaven's  deep  shrine  its  image  burns ! 
 Star  of  the  morn,  my  spirit  yearns 
 To  be  with  thee. 
 
 Lord  of  the  desert  sky ! 
 
 Night's  last,  lone  heir, 
 Benign  thou  smilest  from  on  high, 
 Pure,  calm,  as  if  an  angel's  eye 
 
 Were  watching  there. 
 
 Nor  wholly  vain  I  deem 
 
 The  Magi  an  plan, 
 That,  sphered  in  thee,  a  spirit  reigns 
 Who  knows  this  earth'  and  kindly  deigns 
 
 To  succor  man. 
 
 Gone  are  thy  glittering  peers  ! 
 
 Quenched  each  bright  spark  ; 
 Save  where  some  pale  sun's  lingering  ghost, 
 Dull  remnant  of  a  scattered  host, 
 
 Still  spots  the  dark. 
 
 But  thou,  propitious  star, 
 
 Night's  youngest  born, 
 Wilt  not  withdraw  thy  steady  light 
 Till  bursts  on  yonder  snow-clad  height 
 
 The  rosy  morn. 
 
 Fair  orb  !   I  love  to  watch 
 
 Thy  tranquil  ray  ; 
 Emblem  art  thou  of  Hope  that  springs 
 When  joys  are  fled,  and  dreaming  brings 
 
 The  better  day. 
 
212  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL    FAITH, 
 
 So,  when  from  my  life's  course 
 
 Its  stars  are  riven, 
 Dawn  on  my  soul,  prophetic  light, 
 That  gilds  old  age's  winter  night 
 
 With  hope  of  heaven  ! 
 
 SONG    OF    THE    ANGELS. 
 
 From  Goethe's  "  Faust." 
 RAPHAEL. 
 
 /T^HE  sun  is  still  for  ever  sounding 
 
 With  brother  spheres  his  rival  song, 
 As  on  his  destined  journey  bounding, 
 
 With  thunder  step  he  speeds  along. 
 The  sight  gives  angels  strength,  though  greater 
 
 Than  angels'  utmost  thought  sublime ; 
 And  all  thy  wondrous  works,  Creator, 
 
 Are  glorious  as  in  Eden's  prime. 
 
 GABRIEL. 
 
 And  fleetly,  thought-surpassing  fleetly, 
 
 The  earth's  green  pomp  is  spinning  round ; 
 There  Paradise  alternates  sweetly 
 
 With  Night  terrific  and  profound  ; 
 There  foams  the  sea,  its  broad  waves  beating 
 
 Against  the  tall  cliff's  rocky  base  : 
 And  rock  and  sea  away  are  fleeting 
 
 In  everlasting  spheral  chase. 
 
 MICHAEL. 
 
 And  storms  with  rival  fury  heaving 
 
 From  land  to  sea,  from  sea  to  land, 
 Still,  as  they  rave,  a  chain  are  weaving 
 
 Of  deepest  efficacy  grand. 
 There  burning  Desolation  blazes, 
 
 Precursor  of  the  Thunder's  way  ; 
 But,  Lord,  thy  servants  own  with  praises 
 
 The  milder  movement  of  thy  day. 
 
FREDERIC  HENRY  HEDGE.  213 
 
 THE   THREE. 
 
 The  sight  gives  angels  strength,  though  greater 
 Than  angels'  utmost  thought  sublime  ; 
 
 And  all  thy  wondrous  works,  Creator,    . 
 Are  glorious  as  in  Eden's  prime. 
 
 With  reference  to  the  following  song  from  Goethe's  "Faust,"  Bayard 
 Taylor  in  his  "Notes"  says  that  the  "final  chorus  of  the  angels  is  a 
 stumbling-block  to  the  translator,  on  account  of  the  fivefold  dactylic 
 rhyme;"  and  adds,  "Dr.  Hedge,  I  believe,  is  the  only  one  who  has  hith- 
 erto endeavored  to  reproduce  the  difficult  structure  of  this  chorus." 
 
 EASTER   HYMN. 
 
 From  Goethe's  "  Faust." 
 ANGELS. 
 
 ^HRIST  hath  arisen  ! 
 
 Toy  to  our  buried  Head  ! 
 Whom  the  unmerited, 
 Trailing  inherited 
 Woes,  did  imprison  ! 
 
 WOMEN. 
 
 Costly  devices 
 
 We  had  prepared, 
 Shrouds  and  sweet  spices, 
 
 Linen  and  nard. 
 Woe  the  disaster ! 
 
 Whom  we  here  laid  ; 
 Gone  is  the  Master, 
 
 Empty  his  bed. 
 
 ANGELS. 
 
 Christ  hath  arisen 
 Loving  and  glorious  ; 
 Out  of  laborious 
 Conflict  victorious, 
 Christ  hath  arisen. 
 
214  SOJVGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL   FAITH. 
 
 DISCIPLES. 
 
 Hath  the  inhumated 
 
 Upward  aspiring, 
 Hath  he  consummated 
 
 All  his  desiring? 
 Is  he  in  being's  bliss, 
 
 Near  to  creative  Joy? 
 Wearily  we  in  this 
 
 Earthly  house  sigh : 
 Empty  and  hollow,  us 
 
 Left  he  unblest ; 
 Master  !  thy  followers 
 
 Envy  thy  rest. 
 
 ANGELS. 
 
 Christ  hath  arisen 
 
 Out  of  corruption's  womb. 
 Burst  every  prison  ! 
 
 Vanish  death's  gloom  ! 
 Active  in  charity, 
 Praise  him  in  verity  ! 
 His  feast,  prepare  it  ye  ! 
 His  message,  bear  it  ye  ! 
 His  joy,  declare  it  ye  ! 
 
 Then  is  the  Master  near, 
 
 Then  is  he  here. 
 
 LUTHER'S    HYMN. 
 
 This  well-known  translation  of  Luther's  famous  Battle  Hymn  of  th€  Reformation,  by 
 Dr.  Hedge,  first  appeared  in  Dr.  Furness's  Gems  of  German  Verse.  It  has  been  sung  on 
 many  public  occasions,  as  at  the  recent  laying  of  the  corner-stone  of  "  Memorial  Hall,"  at 
 Cambridge.  It  is  erroneously  attributed  to  Rev.  Samuel  Longfellow,  in  Mr.  Martineau's 
 new  Collection. 
 
 A     MIGHTY  fortress  is  our  God, 
 
 A  bulwark  never  failing  \ 
 Our  helper  he  amid  the  flood 
 Of  mortal  ills  prevailing. 
 
FREDERIC  HENRY  HEDGE.  215 
 
 For  still  our  ancient  foe 
 Doth  seek  to  work  us  woe  ; 
 His  craft  and  power  are  great, 
 And,  armed  with  cruel  hate, 
 On  earth  is  not  his  equal. 
 
 Did  we  in  our  own  strength  confide, 
 
 Our  striving  would  be  losing,  — 
 Were  not  the  right  man  on  our  side, 
 The  man  of  God's  own  choosing. 
 Dost  ask  who  that  may  be  ? 
 Christ  Jesus,  it  is  he, 
 Lord  Sabaoth  his  name, 
 From  age  to  age  the  same, 
 And  he  must  win  the  battle.' 
 
 And  though  this  world,  with  devils  filled, 
 
 Should  threaten  to  undo  us, 
 We  will  not  fear,  for  God  hath  willed 
 His  truth  to  triumph  through  us. 
 The  Prince  of  Darkness  grim, 
 We  tremble  not  for  him, 
 His  rage  we  can  endure, 
 For  lo  !  his  doom  is  sure, 
 One  little  word  shall  fell  him. 
 
 That  word  above  all  earthly  powers, 
 
 No  thanks  to  them,  abideth, 
 The  spirit  and  the  gifts  are  ours 
 Through  Him  who  with  us  sideth. 
 Let  goods  and  kindred  go, 
 This  mortal  life  also  : 
 The  body  they  may  kill, 
 God's  truth  abideth  still, 
 His  Kingdom  is  for  ever. 
 
2l6  SONGS   OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 VENI,    SANCTE    SPIRITUS. 
 
 A  translation  of  the  "Veni,  Sancte  Spiritus,"  of  King  Robert  II.  of  France,  taken  from 
 Professor  Child's  collection  of  "  Poems  of  Sorrow  and  Comfort." 
 
 TLTOLY  Spirit,  Fire  divine, 
 
 Send  from  heaven  a  ray  of  thine ; 
 
 Lighten  our  obscurity ! 
 Come,  thou  Father  of  the  poor, 
 Come,  thou  Giver  and  Renewer,  — 
 
 Fountain  of  all  purity  ! 
 
 Visit  us,  Consoler  best,  — 
 Thou  the  bosom's  sweetest  guest, 
 
 Sweetest  comfort  proffering : 
 Thou  dost  give  the  weary  rest, 
 Shade  to  all  with  heat  oppressed, 
 
 Solace  in  all  suffering. 
 
 O,  blest  Light  ineffable  ! 
 With  thy  faithful  amply  dwell ; 
 
 Lord  of  our  humanity, 
 Nothing  lives  without  thy  ray ; 
 Reft  of  thy  enlivening  day, 
 
 All  is  void  and  vanity. 
 
 What  is  foul,'  oh  !  purify ; 
 Water  what  in  us  is  dry ; 
 
 All  our  hurts  alleviate  : 
 Bend  our  temper's  rigidness  ; 
 Warm  our  nature's  frigidness  ; 
 
 Bring  back  all  who  deviate. 
 
 Give  them  who  in  thee  abide,  — 
 All  that  do  in  thee  confide,  — 
 
 Give  them  grace  increasingly ; 
 Give  to  virtue  its  reward, 
 Saving  end  to  all  accord, 
 
 Joy  in  heaven  unceasingly. 
 
HENRY  WADSWORTH  LONGFELLOW.        217 
 
 HENRY   WADSWORTH    LONGFELLOW. 
 
 (1807.) 
 
 Henry  WADSWORTH  Longfellow,  a  name  which,  like  that  of  Wil- 
 liam Cullen  Bryant,  is  endeared  to  countless  homes  and  hearts  in  our 
 own  land  and  in  the  Old  World,  was  born  in  Portland,  Me.,  Feb.  27, 
 1  So-.  His  father  was  lion.  Stephen  Longfellow  of  that  city;  and  his 
 earliest  ancestor  in  this  country  was  William  Longfellow,  who  was  born 
 in  Hampshire,  England,  in  1651,  and  emigrated  to  Newbury,  Mass., 
 where  he  married  Anne  Sewall,  in  1676.  The  poet,  on  his  mother's  side, 
 is  a  descendant  of^Tohn  Alden,  who  came  over  in  the  Mayflower,  and  who 
 was  the  first  man  who  landed  in  Plymouth. 
 
 He  graduated  at  Bowdoin  College,  in  the  same  class  with  Hawthorne, 
 in  1S25,  and  the  next  year  was  appointed  Professor  of  Modern  Languages  ; 
 but,  before  entering  upon  the  duties  of  his  position,  made  a  tour  of 
 Europe,  visiting  France,  Spain,  Italy,  Germany,  Holland,  and  England. 
 In  1S35  ne  was  ca^ed  to  succeed  George  Ticknor  as  the  Professor  of 
 Modern  Languages  in  Harvard  College,  and  again  went  abroad  still 
 more  fully  to  prepare  himself  for  his  work.  Returning  once  more  to 
 America,  he  assumed  the  office  to  which  he  had  been  elected,  and  held 
 it  until  1S54.  Since  that  year  he  has  continued  to  reside  at  Cambridge, 
 still  occupying  the  stately  old  mansion  known  as  the  "Craigie  House," 
 where  Washington  had  his  head-quarters  after  the  battle  of  Bunker  Hill. 
 
 Mr.  Longfellow  has  repeated  his  visits  to  Europe  several  times  during 
 the  last  thirty  or  forty  years,  and  has  there  received  marked  honors  from 
 literary  circles  and  renowned  universities,  as  well  as  abundant  demon- 
 strations of  gratitude  and  love  from  the  untitled  many  who  also  had 
 been  touched  and  blest  by  the  gracious  offerings  of  his  genius.  As  no 
 one  has  more  sweetly  and  delicately  voiced  in  prose  and  song  the  gentler 
 feelings,  the  purer  instincts,  the  nobler  aspirations,  and  all  the  common 
 joys  and  sorrows  of  human  souls  than  he  has  done,  so  no  one  has  gained 
 a  surer  entrance  into  the  inmost  sanctuary  of  his  readers,  near  and  afar, 
 or  endeared  himself  to  them  by  stronger  ties  of  personal  affection,  sym- 
 pathy, and  interest.  Not  to  speak  of  the  rich  treasures  which,  in  his 
 numerous  Translations,  and  in  his  volume  of  "  Poets  and  Poetry  of 
 Europe,"  he  has  opened  to  us  through  his  studies  of  foreign  languages 
 and  literatures,  what  a  priceless  legacy  has  he  bequeathed  to  the  millions 
 in  the  long  list  of  his  own  beautiful  romances  and  immortal  poems,  which 
 he  has  given  to  the  public,  from  the  time  when  in  his  youth  he  wrote 
 verses  for  the  "United  States  Gazette"  and  the  "Knickerbocker,"  and 
 afterward  published  his  "  Outre  Mer  "  and  "  Hyperion  ;"  and  what  memo- 
 ries of  sacred  hours  of  inspiration  and  comfort  throng  upon  us,  as  we  recall 
 our  first  acquaintance  with  the  Voices  of  the  Night,  Evangeline,  Kava- 
 naurh,  The  Golden  Legend,  The  Song  of  Hiawatha,  Tales  of  a  Wayside 
 Inn,  The  Divine  Tragedy,  Excelsior,  The  Arsenal  at  Springfield,  Resig- 
 
218  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL   FAITH. 
 
 nation,  The  Ladder  of  St.  Augustine,  The  Two  Angels,  The  Children's 
 Hour,  and  others  we  need  not  name  !  There  is  an  elevation  and  refine- 
 ment of  thought,  a  melting  pathos  of  sentiment,  and  a  magic  charm  of 
 expression,  in  them  all,  that  leaves  indeed  but  little  to  be  desired,  and 
 that  makes  the  world  evermore  a  debtor  to  him  who  wrote  them. 
 
 Not  many  of  his  pieces  have  so  taken,  in  the  strict  sense  of  the  word, 
 the  hymn  form,  as  to  be  adapted  to  ordinary  use  in  church  worship. 
 Vet  several  of  them  are  in  various  Collections,  and  a  much  larger  number 
 are  particularly  suitable  for  a  compilation  like  this.  The  first  four 
 which. we  appropriate  are  from  the  "Voices  of  the  Night,"  originally 
 Dublished  in  1839. 
 
 HYMN    TO    THE    NIGHT. 
 
 'A<rira<rir),  TpiAAioro?. 
 
 T  HEARD  the  trailing  garments  of  the  Night 
 
 Sweep  through  her  marble  halls  ! 
 I  saw  her  sable  skirts  all  fringed  with  light 
 
 From  the  celestial  walls  ! 
 
 I  felt  her  presence,  by  its  spell  of  might, 
 
 Stoop  o'er  me  from  above ; 
 The  calm  majestic  presence  of  the  Night, 
 
 As  of  the  one  I  love. 
 
 I  heard  the  sounds  of  sorrow  and  delight, 
 
 The  manifold,  soft  chimes, 
 That  fill  the  haunted  chambers  of  the  Night, 
 
 Like  some  old  poet's  rhymes. 
 
 From  the  cool  cisterns  of  the  midnight  air 
 
 My  spirit  drank  repose  ; 
 The  fountain  of  perpetual  peace  flows  there,  — 
 
 From  those  deep  cisterns  flows. 
 
 O  holy  Night !  from  thee  I  learn  to  bear 
 
 What  man  has  borne  before  ! 
 Thou  layest  thy  finger  on  the  lips  of  Care, 
 
 And  they  complain  no  more. 
 
 Peace  !  Peace  !     Orestes-like  I  breathe  this  prayer ! 
 
 Descend  with  broad-winged  flight, 
 The  welcome,  the  thrice-prayed-for,  the  most  fair, 
 
 The  best  beloved  Night ! 
 
HENRY  U'ADSU'ORTH  LONGFELLOW.        219 
 
 A   PSALM    OF    LIFE. 
 
 What  the  heart  of  the  young  man  said  to  the  Psalmist. 
 
 HPELL  me  not,  in  mournful  numbers 
 
 Life  is  but  an  empty  dream  ! 
 For  the  soul  is  dead  that  slumbers, 
 And  things  are  not  what  they  seem. 
 
 Life  is  real !     Life  is  earnest ! 
 
 And  the  grave  is  not  its  goal ; 
 Dust  thou  art,  to  dust  returnest, 
 
 Was  not  spoken  of  the  soul. 
 
 Not  enjoyment,  and  not  sorrow, 
 
 Is  our  destined  end  or  way ; 
 But  to  act,  that  each  to-morrow 
 
 Find  us  farther  than  to-day. 
 
 Art  is  long,  and  Time  is  fleeting ; 
 
 And  our  hearts,  though  stout  and  brave. 
 Still,  like  muffled  drums,  are  beating 
 
 Funeral  marches  to  the  grave. 
 
 In  the  world's  broad  field  of  battle, 
 
 In  the  bivouac  of  Life, 
 Be  not  like  dumb,  driven  cattle ! 
 
 Be  a  hero  in  the  strife ! 
 
 Trust  no  Future,  howe'er  pleasant ! 
 
 Let  the  dead  Past  bury  its  dead  ! 
 Act  —  act  in  the  living  Present ! 
 
 Heart  within,  and  God  o'erhead  ! 
 
 Lives  of  great  men  all  remind  us 
 We  can  make  our  lives  sublime, 
 
 And,  departing,  leave  behind  us 
 Footprints  on  the  sands  of  time,  — 
 
 Footprints,  that  perhaps  another, 
 Sailing  o'er  life's  solemn  main, 
 
 A  forlorn  and  shipwrecked  brother, 
 Seeing,  shall  take  heart  again. 
 
220  SONGS   OF   THE   LIBERAL   FAITH. 
 
 Let  us,  then,  be  up  and  doing, 
 With  a  heart  for  any  fate  ; 
 
 Still  achieving,  still  pursuing, 
 Learn  to  labor  and  to  wait. 
 
 THE   REAPER  AND    THE   FLOWERS. 
 
 r"TNHERE  is  a  Reaper,  whose  name  is  Death, 
 
 And,  with  his  sickle  keen, 
 He  reaps  the  bearded  grain  at  a  breath, 
 And  the  flowers  that  grow  between. 
 
 "  Shall  I  have  naught  that  is  fair  ?  "  saith  he  ; 
 
 "  Have  naught  bat  the  bearded  grain  ? 
 Though  the  breath  of  these  flowers  is  sweet  to  me. 
 
 I  will  give  them  all  back  again." 
 
 He  gazed  at  the  flowers  with  tearful  eyes, 
 
 He  kissed  their  drooping  leaves. 
 It  was  for  the  Lord  of  Paradise 
 
 He  bound  them  in  his  sheaves. 
 
 "  My  Lord  hath  need  of  these  flowerets  gay," 
 
 The  Reaper  said,  and  smiled  ; 
 "  Dear  tokens  of  the  earth  are  they, 
 
 Where  he  was  once  a  child. 
 
 "  They  shall  all  bloom  in  fields  of  light, 
 
 Transplanted  by  my  care, 
 And  saints,  upon  their  garments  white, 
 
 These  sacred  blossoms  wear." 
 
 And  the  mother  gave,  in  tears,  and  pain, 
 
 The  flowers  she  most  did  love ; 
 She  knew  she  should  find  them  all  again 
 
 In  the  fields  of  light  above. 
 
 O,  not  in  cruelty,  not  in  wrath, 
 
 The  Reaper  came  that  day  ; 
 'Twas  an  Angel  visited  the  green  earth, 
 
 And  took  the  flowers  away. 
 
HEiYRV   U'ADSWORTH  LOXGFELLOW.        22 
 
 FOOTSTEPS    OF   ANGELS. 
 
 T17HEN  the  hours  of  Day  are  numbered, 
 
 And  the  voices  of  the  Night 
 Wake  the  better  soul  that  slumbered, 
 To  a  holy,  calm  delight ; 
 
 Ere  the  evening  lamps  are  lighted, 
 And,  like  phantoms  grim  and  tall, 
 
 Shadows  from  the  fitful  firelight 
 Dance  upon  the  parlor-wall : 
 
 Then  the  forms  of  the  departed 
 
 Enter  at  the  open  door,  — 
 The  beloved,  the  true-hearted, 
 
 Come  to  visit  me  once  more. 
 
 He,  the  young  and  strong,  who  cherished 
 Noble  longings  for  the  strife, 
 
 By  the  roadside  fell  and  perished, 
 Weary  with  the  march  of  life ! 
 
 The)r,  the  holy  ones  and  weakly, 
 Who  the  cross  of  suffering  bore, 
 
 Folded  their  pale  hands  so  meekly, 
 Spake  with  us  on  earth  no  more ! 
 
 And  with  them  the  Being  Beauteous 
 Who  unto  my  youth  was  given, 
 
 More  than  all  things  else  to  love  me, 
 And  is  now  a  saint  in  heaven. 
 
 With  a  slow  and  noiseless  footstep 
 Comes  that  messenger  divine, 
 
 Takes  the  vacant  chair  beside  me, 
 Lays  her  gentle  hand  in  mine. 
 
 And  she  sits  and  gazes  at  me 
 With  those  deep  and  tender  eyes, 
 
 Like  the  stars,  so  still  and  saint-like, 
 Looking  downward  from  the  skies. 
 
222  SOJVGS   OF   THE   LIBERAL   FAITH. 
 
 Uttered  not,  yet  comprehended 
 Is  the  spirit's  voiceless  prayer, 
 
 Soft  rebuke,  in  blessing  ended, 
 Breathing  from  her  lips  of  air. 
 
 O,  though  oft  depressed  and  lonely, 
 All  my  fears  are  laid  aside, 
 
 If  I  but  remember  only 
 
 Such  as  these  have  lived  and  died. 
 
 T 
 
 THE   RAINY   DAY. 
 
 kHE  day  is  cold,  and  dark,  and  dreaiy ; 
 It  rains,  and  the  wind  is  never  weary ; 
 The  vine  still  clings  to  the  mouldering  wall, 
 But  at  every  gust  the  dead  leaves  fall, 
 And  the  day  is  dark  and  dreary. 
 
 My  life  is  cold,  and  dark,  and  dreary ; 
 It  rains,  and  the  wind  is  never  weary  ; 
 My  thoughts  still  cling  to  the  mouldering  Past, 
 But  the  hopes  of  youth  fall  thick  in  the  blast, 
 And  the  days  are  dark  and  dreary. 
 
 Be  still,  sad  heart !  and  cease  repining ; 
 Behind  the  clouds  is  the  sun  still  shining  ; 
 Thy  fate  is  the  common  fate  of  all, 
 Into  each  life  some  rain  must  fall, 
 
 Some  days  must  be  dark  and  dreary. 
 
 GOD'S-ACRE. 
 
 I"  LIKE  that  ancient  Saxon  phrase  which  calls 
 
 The  burial-ground  God's- Acre  !     It  is  just ; 
 It  consecrates  each  grave  within  its  walls, 
 
 And  breathes  a  benison  o'er  the  sleeping  dust. 
 
HENRY  WADSWORTH  LONGFELLOW.        223 
 
 God's-Acre  !     Yes,  that  blessed  name  imparts 
 Comfort  to  those  who  in  the  grave  have  sown 
 
 The  seed  that  they  had  garnered  in  their  hearts  ; 
 Their  bread  of  life,  alas  !  no  more  their  own. 
 
 Into  its  furrows  shall  we  all  be  cast, 
 
 In  the  sure  faith  that  we  shall  rise  again 
 
 At  the  great  harvest,  when  the  Archangel's  blast 
 Shall  winnow,  like  a  fan,  the  chaff  and  grain. 
 
 Then  shall  the  good  stand  in  immortal  bloom, 
 In  the  fair  gardens  of  that  second  birth  ; 
 
 And  each  bright  blossom  mingle  its  perfume 
 
 With  that  of  flowers  which  never  bloomed  on  earth. 
 
 With  thy  rude  ploughshare,  Death,  turn  up  the  sod, 
 And  spread  the  furrow  for  the  seed  we  sow  ; 
 
 This  is  the  field  and  Acre  of  our  God, 
 
 This  is  the  place  where  human  harvests  grow ! 
 
 THE   ARSENAL   AT    SPRINGFIELD. 
 
 The  last  four  stanzas. 
 
 TT7ERE  half  the  power  that  fills  the  world  with  terror, 
 
 Were  half  the  wealth  bestowed  on  camps  and  courts, 
 Given  to  redeem  the  human  mind  from  error, 
 There  were  no  need  of  arsenals  or  forts. 
 
 The  warrior's  name  would  be  a  name  abhorred ! 
 
 And  every  nation,  that  should  lift  again 
 Its  hand  against  a  brother,  on  its  forehead 
 
 Would  wear  for  evermore  the  curse  of  Cain  ! 
 
 Down  the  dark  future,  through  long  generations, 
 The  echoing  sounds  grow  fainter,  and  then  cease ; 
 
 And  like  a  bell,  with  solemn  sweet  vibrations, 
 
 I  hear  once  more  the  voice  of  Christ  say,  "  Peace  ! " 
 
 Peace  !  and  no  longer  from  its  brazen  portals 
 The  blast  of  War's  great  organ  shakes  the  skies ! 
 
 But  beautiful  as  songs  of  the  immortals, 
 The  holy  melodies  of  love  arise. 
 
224  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 RESIGNATION. 
 
 rl  AHERE  is  no  flock,  however  watched  and  tended, 
 
 But  one  dead  lamb  is  there  ! 
 There  is  no  fireside,  howsoe'er  defended, 
 But  has  one  vacant  chair. 
 
 The  air  is  full  of  farewells  to  the  dying, 
 
 And  mournings  for  the  dead ; 
 The  heart  of  Rachel,  for  her  children  crying, 
 
 Will  not  be  comforted  ! 
 
 Let  us  be  patient !     These  severe  afflictions 
 
 Not  from  the  ground  arise, 
 But  oftentimes  celestial  benedictions 
 
 Assume  this  dark  disguise. 
 
 We  see  but  dimly  through  the  mists  and  vapors ; 
 
 Amid  these  earthly  damps, 
 What  seem  to  us  but  sad,  funereal  tapers 
 
 May  be  heaven's  distant  lamps. 
 
 There  is  no  Death  !  what  seems  so  is  transition ; 
 
 This  life  of  mortal  breath 
 Is  but  a  suburb  of  the  life  elysian, 
 
 Whose  portal  we  call  Death. 
 
 She  is  not  dead,  —  the  child  of  our  affection,  — 
 
 But  gone  unto  that  school 
 Where  she  no  longer  needs  our  poor  protection, 
 
 And  Christ  himself  doth  rule. 
 
 In  that  great  cloister's  stillness  and  seclusion, 
 
 By  guardian  angels  led, 
 Safe  from  temptation,  safe  from  sin's  pollutions, 
 
 She  lives  whom  we  call  dead. 
 
 Day  after  day  we  think  what  she  is  doing 
 
 In  those  bright  realms  of  air ; 
 Year  after  year,  her  tender  steps  pursuing, 
 
 Behold  her  grown  more  fair. 
 
HE  AX)'   WADSWORTH  LONGFELLOW.        22$ 
 
 Thus  do  we  walk  with  her,  and  keep  unbroken 
 
 The  bond  which  nature  gives, 
 Thinking  that  our  remembrance,  though  unspoken, 
 
 May  reach  her  where  she  lives. 
 
 Not  as  a  child  shall  we  again  behold  her : 
 
 For  when  with  raptures  wild 
 In  our  embraces  we  again  enfold  her, 
 
 She  will  not  be  a  child  : 
 
 But  a  fair  maiden,  in  her  Father's  mansion, 
 
 Clothed  with  celestial  grace  ; 
 And  beautiful  with  all  the  soul's  expansion 
 
 Shall  we  behold  her  face. 
 
 And  though  at  times  impetuous  with  emotion, 
 
 And  anguish  long  suppressed, 
 The  swelling  heart  heaves  moaning  like  the  ocean, 
 
 That  cannot  be  at  rest,  — 
 
 We  will  be  patient,  and  assuage  the  feeling 
 
 We  may  not  wholly  stay  ; 
 By  silence  sanctifying,  not  concealing, 
 
 The  grief  that  must  have  way. 
 
 SUSPIRIA. 
 
 'T^AKE  them,  O  Death  !  and  bear  away 
 Whatever  thou  canst  call  thine  own  ! 
 Thine  image,  stamped  upon  this  clay, 
 Doth  give  thee  that,  but  that  alone  ! 
 
 Take  them,  O  Grave !  and  let  them  lie 
 
 Folded  upon  thy  narrow  shelves, 
 As  garments  by  the  soul  laid  by, 
 
 And  precious  only  to  ourselves ! 
 
 Take  them,  O  great  Eternity  ! 
 
 Our  little  life  is  but  a  gust 
 That  bends  the  branches  of  thy  tree, 
 
 And  trails  its  blossoms  in  the  dust ! 
 *5 
 
226  SONGS   OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 HYMN 
 For  my  Brother's  Ordination. 
 
 /"^HRIST  to  the  young  man  said :   "  Yet  one  thing 
 more : 
 
 If  thou  wouldst  perfect  be, 
 Sell  all  thou  hast  and  give  it  to  the  poor, 
 
 And  come  and  follow  me  !  " 
 
 Within  this  temple  Christ  again,  unseen, 
 
 Those  sacred  words  hath  said, 
 And  his  invisible  hands  to-day  have  been 
 
 Laid  on  a  young  man's  head. 
 
 And  evermore  beside  him  on  his  way 
 
 The  unseen  Christ  shall  move, 
 That  he  may  lean  upon  his  arm  and  say, 
 
 "  Dost  thou,  dear  Lord,  approve  ?  " 
 
 Beside  him  at  the  marriage  feast  shall  be, 
 
 To  make  the  scene  more  fair ; 
 Beside  him  in  the  dark  Gethsemane 
 
 Of  pain  and  midnight  prayer. 
 
 O  holy  trust !  'O  endless  sense  of  rest ! 
 
 Like  the  beloved  John 
 To  lay  his  head  upon  the  Saviour's  breast, 
 
 And  thus  to  journey  on  ! 
 
 THE   LADDER   OF   SAINT   AUGUSTINE. 
 ■ 
 O  AINT  AUGUSTINE !  well  hast  thou  said, 
 
 That  of  our  vices  we  can  frame 
 A  ladder,  if  we  will  but  tread 
 
 Beneath  our  feet  each  deed  of  shame  1 
 
HENRY  WADSWORTH  LONGFELLOW,        227 
 
 All  common  things,  each  day's  events, 
 
 That  with  the  hour  begin  and  end, 
 Our  pleasures  and  our  discontents, 
 
 Are  rounds  by  which  we  may  ascend. 
 
 The  low  desire,  the  base  design, 
 
 That  makes  another's  virtues  less  ; 
 The  revel  of  the  ruddy  wine, 
 
 And  all  occasions  of  excess  ; 
 
 The  longing  for  ignoble  things  ; 
 
 The  strife  for  triumph  more  than  truth ; 
 The  hardening  of  the  heart,  that  brings 
 
 Irreverence  for  the  dreams  of  youth ; 
 
 All  thoughts  of  ill  ;  all  evil  deeds, 
 
 That  have  their  root  in  thoughts  of  ill ; 
 
 Whatever  hinders  or  impedes 
 The  action  of  the  nobler  will  :  — 
 
 All  these  must  first  be  trampled  down 
 
 Beneath  our  feet,  if  we  would  gain 
 In  the  bright  fields  of  fair  renown 
 
 The  right  of  eminent  domain. 
 
 We  have  not  wings,  we  cannot  soar ; 
 
 But  we  have  feet  to  scale  and  climb 
 By  slow  degrees,  by  more  and  more, 
 
 The  cloudy  summits  of  our  time. 
 
 The  mighty  pyramids  of  stone 
 
 That  wedge-like  cleave  the  desert  airs, 
 
 When  nearer  seen,  and  better  known, 
 Are  but  gigantic  flights  of  stairs. 
 
 The  distant  mountains,  that  uprear 
 
 Their  solid  bastions  to  the  skies, 
 Are  crossed  by  pathways,  that  appear 
 
 As  we  to  higher  levels  rise. 
 
228  SONGS   OF   THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 The  heights  by  great  men  reached  and  kept 
 Were  not  attained  by  sudden  flight, 
 
 But  they,  while  their  companions  slept, 
 Were  toiling  upward  in  the  night. 
 
 Standing  on  what  too  long  we  bore 
 
 With  shoulders  bent  and  downcast  eyes, 
 
 We  may  discern  —  unseen  before  — 
 A  path  to  higher  destinies. 
 
 Nor  deem  the  irrevocable  Past 
 
 As  wholly  wasted,  wholly  vain, 
 If,  rising  on  its  wrecks,  at  last 
 
 To  something  nobler  we  attain. 
 
 THE   TWO   ANGELS. 
 
 The  last  two  stanzas. 
 
 A  LL  is  of  God  !     If  he  but  wave  his  hand, 
 
 The  mists  collect,  the  rain  falls  thick  and  loud, 
 Till,  with  a  smile  of  light  on  sea  and  land, 
 Lo  !  he  looks  *back  from  the  departing  cloud. 
 
 Angels  of  Life  and  Death  alike  are  his ; 
 
 Without  his  leave  they  pass  no  threshold  o'er ; 
 Who,  then,  would  wish  or  dare,  believing  this, 
 
 Against  his  messengers  to  shut  the  door  ? 
 
 CHILDREN. 
 
 /^OME  to  me,  O  ye  children ! 
 
 For  I  hear  you  at  your  play, 
 And  the  questions  that  perplexed  me 
 Have  vanished  quite  away. 
 
 Ye  open  the  Eastern  windows, 
 
 That  look  towards  the  sun, 
 Where  thoughts  are  singing  swallows 
 
 And  the  brooks  of  morning  run. 
 
HENRY  WADSWORTH  LONGFELLOW.        22g 
 
 In  your  hearts  are  the  birds  and  the  sunshine, 
 
 In  your  thoughts  the  brooklet's  flow, 
 But  in  mine  is  the  wind  of  Autumn 
 
 And  the  first  fall  of  the  snow. 
 
 Ah  !  what  would  the  world  be  to  us 
 
 If  the  children  were  no  more  ? 
 We  should  dread  the  desert  behind  us 
 
 Worse  than  the  dark  before. 
 
 What  the  leaves  are  to  the  forest, 
 
 With  light  and  air  for  food, 
 Ere  their  sweet  and  tender  juices 
 
 Have  been  hardened  into  wood,  — 
 
 That  to  the  world  are.  children  ; 
 
 Through  them  it  feels  the  glow 
 Of  a  brighter  and  sunnier  climate 
 
 Than  reaches  the  trunks  below. 
 
 Come  to  me,  O  ye  children ! 
 
 And  whisper  in  my  ear 
 What  the  birds  and  the  winds  are  singing 
 
 In  your  sunny  atmosphere. 
 
 For  what  are  all  our  contrivings, 
 
 And  the  wisdom  of  our  books, 
 When  compared  with  your  caresses, 
 
 And  the  gladness  of  your  looks? 
 
 Ye  are  better  than  all  the  ballads 
 
 That  ever  were  sung  or  said ; 
 For  ye  are  the  living  poems, 
 
 And  all  the  rest  are  dead. 
 
 A   DAY   OF   SUNSHINE. 
 
 r\   GIFT  of  God  !  O  perfect  day  ! 
 
 ^^^     Whereon  shall  no  man  work,  but  play ; 
 
 Whereon  it  is  enough  for  me, 
 
 Not  to  be  doing,  but  to  be. 
 
230  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 Through  every  fibre  of  my  brain, 
 Through  every  nerve,  through  every  vein, 
 I  feel  the  electric  thrill,  the  touch 
 Of  life,  that  seems  almost  too  much. 
 
 I  hear  the  wind  among  the  trees 
 Playing  celestial  symphonies ; 
 I  see  the  branches  downward  bent, 
 Like  keys  of  some  great  instrument. 
 
 And  over  me  unrolls  on  high 
 The  splendid  scenery  of  the  sky  ; 
 Where,  through  a  sapphire  sea,  the  sun 
 Sails  like  a  golden  galleon, 
 
 Towards  yonder  cloud-land  in  the  West, 
 Towards  yonder  Islands  of  the  Blest, 
 Whose  steep  sierra  far  uplifts 
 Its  craggy  summits,  white  with  drifts. 
 
 Blow,  winds  !  and  waft  through  all  the  rooms 
 The  snow-flakes  of  the  cherry-blooms  ! 
 Blow,  winds  !  and  bend  within  my  reach 
 The  fiery  blossoms  of  the  peach  ! 
 
 O  Life  and  Love !     O  happy  throng 
 Of  thoughts,  whose  only  speech  is  song ! 
 O  heart  of  man !  canst  thou  not  be 
 Blithe  as  the  air  is,  and  as  free  ? 
 
 WEARINESS. 
 
 r\  LITTLE  feet !  that  such  long  years 
 
 ^^^     Must  wander  on  through  hopes  and  fears, 
 
 Must  ache  and  bleed  beneath  your  load  : 
 I,  nearer  to  the  wayside  inn 
 Where  toil  shall  cease  and  rest  begin, 
 
 Am  weary,  thinking  of  your  road  ! 
 
HENRY  WADSWORTH  LONGFELLOW.        23 1 
 
 O  little  hands  !  that,  weak  or  strong, 
 Have  still  to  serve  or  rule  so  long, 
 
 Have  still  so  long  to  give  or  ask  : 
 I,  who  so  much  with  book  and  pen 
 Have  toiled  among  my  fellow-men, 
 
 Am  weary,  thinking  of  your  task. 
 
 O  little  hearts  !  that  throb  and  beat 
 With  such  impatient,  feverish  heat, 
 
 Such  limitless  and  strong  desires  : 
 Mine,  that  so  long  has  glowed  and  burned, 
 With  passions  into  ashes  turned 
 
 Now  covers  and  conceals  its  fires. 
 
 O  little  souls  !  as  pure  and  white 
 And  crystalline  as  rays  of  light 
 
 Direct  from  heaven,  their  source  divine : 
 Refracted  through  the  mist  of  years, 
 How  red  my  setting  sun  appears, 
 
 How  lurid  looks  this  soul  of  mine  ! 
 
 PALINGENESIS. 
 
 The  last  three  stanzas. 
 
 TNTO  what  land  of  harvests,  what  plantations 
 Bright  with  autumnal  foliage  and  the  glow 
 
 Of  sunsets  burning  low  ; 
 Beneath  what  midnight  skies,  whose  constellations 
 Light  up  the  spacious  avenues  between 
 
 This  world  and  the  unseen  ; 
 
 Amid  what  friendly  greetings  and  caresses, 
 What  households,  though  not  alien,  yet  not  mine, 
 
 What  bowers  of  rest  divine  ; 
 To  what  temptations  in  lone  wildernesses, 
 What  famine  of  the  heart,  what  pain  and  loss, 
 
 The  bearing  of  what  cross  ; 
 
232  SONGS   OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 I  do  not  know  ;  nor  will  I  vainly  question 
 Those  pages  of  the  mystic  book  which  hold 
 
 The  story  still  untold, 
 But  without  rash  conjecture  or  suggestion 
 Turn  its  last  leaves  in  reverence  and  good  heed, 
 
 Until  "  The  End  "  I  read. 
 
 SARAH    ELIZABETH    MILES. 
 (1807.) 
 
 Mrs.  Sarah  E.  Miles  was  born  in  Boston,  Mass.,  March  28,  1807. 
 Her  parents  were  Nathaniel  W.  Appleton  and  Sarah  (Tilden)  Appleton, 
 of  that  city.  In  1833  she  was  married  to  Solomon  P.  Miles,  who  was 
 at  that  time  Principal  of  the  Boston  High  School,  but  afterwards  of  a 
 ladies'  private  school.  He  died  in  1842.  Mrs.  Miles,  until  within  a  few 
 years,  continued  to  reside  in  or  near  Boston,  but  has  latterly  lived  in 
 Brattleboro',  Vt.,  where  she  still  has  her  home.  The  few  of  her  hymns  or 
 poems  which  have  been  published  were  sent  to  the  printer  by  her  father, 
 who  did  not  fail  to  discover  their  rare  merit ;  and  they  were  mostly  com- 
 posed by  the  writer  while  she  was  yet  at  a  very  early  age.  The  first 
 three  which  we  give  are  in  some  of  the  hymn-books  :  the  last  three  are 
 contributions  to  this  volume,  and  have  not  appeared  before.  We  present 
 them  all  in  their  entire  and  authorized  form,  as  they  have  been  received 
 from  Mrs.  Miles  herself.  Whether  produced  at  an  earlier  or  later  period 
 of  life,  they  reveal  a  gift  of  song,  a  degree  of  culture,  a  depth  of  experience, 
 and  a  spirit  of  Christian  faith  and  love,  which  seem  to  us  to  assign 
 her  a  place  among  our  best'  hymn- writers. 
 
 LOOKING    UNTO   JESUS., 
 
 This  favorite  hymn  originally  appeared  in  the  "  Christian  Examiner  "  in  1827,  and  has 
 since  been  adopted  by  many  compilers,  Orthodox  and  Liberal,  in  America  and  England. 
 
 /T"vHOU,  who  didst  stoop  below 
 To  drain  the  cup  of  woe, 
 Wearing  the  form  of  frail  mortality  ; 
 
 Thy  blessed  labors  done, 
 
 Thy  crown  of  victory  won, 
 Hast  passed  from  earth,  passed  to  thy  home  on  high. 
 
SARAH  ELIZABETH  MILES.  233 
 
 Our  eyes  behold  thee  not, 
 
 Yet  hast  thou  not  forgot 
 Those  who  have  placed  their  hope,  their  trust,  in  thee ; 
 
 Before  thy  Father's  face 
 
 Thou  hast  prepared  a  place, 
 That  where  thou  art,  there  they  may  also  be. 
 
 It  was  no  path  of  flowers, 
 
 Which,  through  this  world  of  ours, 
 Beloved  of  the  Father,  thou  didst  tread ; 
 
 And  shall  we  in  dismay 
 
 Shrink  from  the  narrow  way, 
 When  clouds  and  darkness  are  around  it  spread  ? 
 
 O  thou,  who  art  our  life, 
 
 Be  with  us  through  the  strife  : 
 Thy  holy  head  by  earth's  fierce  storms  was  bowed  ; 
 
 Raise  thou  our  eyes  above, 
 
 To  see  a  Father's  love 
 Beam  like  the  bow  of  promise  through  the  cloud. 
 
 And,  O,  if  thoughts  of  gloom 
 
 Should  hover  o'er  the  tomb, 
 That  light  of  love  our  guiding  star  shall  be  ; 
 
 Our  spirits  shall  not  dread 
 
 The  shadowy  way  to  tread, 
 Friend,  Guardian,  Saviour,  which  doth  lead  to  thee. 
 
 HEAVEN. 
 
 From  the  "  Christian  Examiner,"  182S.     The  compilers  of  the  "  Hymns  of  the  Spirit 
 have  divided  this  hymn  into  two.     See  Nos.  190  and  631. 
 
 r  I  AHE  earth,  all  light  and  loveliness 
 
 In  summer's  golden  hours, 
 Smiles  in  her  bridal  vesture  clad, 
 
 And  crowned  with  festal  flowers. 
 So  radiantly  beautiful, 
 
 So  like  to  heaven  above, 
 We  scarce  can  deem  more  fair  that  world 
 
 Of  perfect  bliss  and  love. 
 
234  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL   FAITH. 
 
 Is  this  a  shadow  faint  and  dim 
 
 Of  that  which  is  to  come  ? 
 What  shall  the  unveiled  splendor  be 
 
 Of  our  celestial  home, 
 Where  waves  the  glorious  tree  of  life, 
 
 Where  streams  of  bliss  gush  free, 
 And  all  is  glowing  in  the  light 
 
 Of  immortality ! 
 
 When  on  devotion's  seraph-wing, 
 
 The  spirit  soars  above, 
 And  feels  thy  presence,  Father,  Friend, 
 
 God  of  eternal  love  ! 
 The  joys  of  earth  fade  swift  away 
 
 Before  that  living  ray, 
 Which  gives  to  the  rapt  soul  a  glimpse 
 
 Of  pure  and  perfect  day ! 
 
 A  gleam  of  heaven's  own  light,  though  now 
 
 Its  brightness  scarce  appears 
 Through  the  pale  shadows  that  are  spread 
 
 Around  our  earthly  years  ; 
 But  thine  unclouded  smile,  O  God  ! 
 
 Fills  that  all-glorious  place, 
 Where  we  shall  know  as  we  are  known, 
 
 And  see  thee  face  to  face. 
 
 IN  AFFLICTION. 
 
 The  2d,  4th,  and  5th  stanzas  form  the  597th  hymn  in  the  "  Hymns  of  the  Spirit. 
 
 "PATHER,  direct  my  ways  ! 
 
 Wisdom  and  strength  art  thou ! 
 And  in  these  evil  days, 
 
 As  at  thy  throne  I  bow, 
 I  feel  that  thou  alone  canst  be 
 A  refuge  and  defence  for  me. 
 
SARAH  ELIZABETH  MILES.  235 
 
 Thou,  infinite  in  love, 
 
 Guide  this  bewildered  mind, 
 Which,  like  the  trembling  dove, 
 
 No  resting-place  can  find 
 On  the  wild  waters,  —  God  of  light, 
 Through  the  thick  darkness  lead  me  right. 
 
 Bid  the  fierce  conflict  cease, 
 
 Terror  and  anguish  fly  ; 
 Let  there  again  be  peace, 
 
 As  in  the  days  gone  by : 
 In  Jesus'  name  I  cry  to  thee, 
 Remembering  Gethsemane. 
 
 Fain  would  earth's  true  and  dear 
 
 Save  me  in  this  dark  hour  ; 
 And  art  not  thou  more  near  ? 
 
 Art  thou  not  love  and  power  ? 
 Vain  is  the  help  of  man,  —  but  thou 
 Canst  send  deliverance  even  now. 
 
 Though  through  the  future's  shade 
 
 Pale  phantoms  I  descry, 
 Let  me  not  shrink  dismayed, 
 
 But  ever  feel  thee  nigh  ; 
 There  may  be  grief,  and  pain,  and  care, 
 But,  O  my  Father  !  thou  art  there. 
 
 The  following  pieces,  as  before  stated,  are  published  here  for  the  first 
 time  :  — 
 
 THE    HOUR    OF    DARKNESS. 
 
 TTOW  long,  O  Lord  !  how  long 
 
 Shall  on  my  spirit  rest 
 This  weight  of  darkness  and  distress  ? 
 
 How  long  unto  my  burning  lips  be  pressed 
 This  overflowing  cup  of  bitterness  ? 
 O  God  !  my  God  !  only  thine  arm  hath  power 
 To  bear  me  through  the  anguish  of  this  hour. 
 
236  SONGS    OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 How  long,  O  Lord  !    how  long  ! 
 
 Many  to  rest  have  gone  ; 
 The  lovely  and  beloved  are  with  thee 
 
 In  peace  and  glory  —  while  I  faint  alone 
 Beneath  this  burden  of  mortality. 
 Yet  not  alone,  —  art  thou  not  near  ?    I  bend, 
 Praying  for  strength  enduring  to  the  end. 
 
 How  long,  O  Lord  !  how  long  ! 
 
 I  bow  me  to  thy  will, 
 Believing  in  tender  love  thou  dost  chastise  — 
 
 Say  to  my  heart's  wild  throbbings,  Peace  !  be  still ! 
 Father,  to  thee,  to  thee  I  lift  mine  eyes  ! 
 Is  not  thy  smile  to  patient  sufferance  given, 
 Gilding  earth's  darkness  with  a  gleam  of  heaven  ? 
 
 How  long,  O  Lord  !  how  long  ! 
 
 A  soft  still  voice  I  hear, 
 Speaking  to  my  worn  spirit  words  of  life,  — 
 
 "  O  thou  of  little  faith  !  how  canst  thou  fear  ? 
 I,  even  I,  am  with  thee  through  the  strife. 
 Weeping  and  grief  endure  but  for  a  night  ; 
 The  morning  breaketh  in  celestial  light." 
 
 "THOU    GOD    SEEST    ME." 
 
 T^ATHER,  to  thee  alone 
 
 Is  thy  child's  spirit  known, 
 To  thee  it  lieth  open  as  the  light. 
 
 Thine  eye  of  mercy  sees 
 
 The  heart's  deep  mysteries, 
 Which  are  so  closely  veiled  from  human  sight. 
 
 And  I  rejoice  to  feel, 
 
 As  I  before  thee  kneel, 
 From  thee  there  is  no  covering,  no  disguise. 
 
 Though  heavy  clouds  of  sin 
 
 Obscure  the  light  within, 
 My  God,  I  would  not  hide  me  from  thine  eyes. 
 
SARAH  ELIZABETH  MILES.  237 
 
 Save  in  the  evil  hour ! 
 
 Save  from  the  tempter's  power  ! 
 Thou  to  whom  darkness  shineth  as  the  day, 
 
 Glorious  in  purity  ! 
 
 The  heart,  which  rests  on  thee 
 In  contrite  trust,  thou  wilt  not  cast  away. 
 
 Bless,  purify,  control 
 
 The  fountains  of  the  soul ; 
 Bid  thy  good  Spirit  o'er  the  waters  move. 
 
 Then  shall  this  breast  of  mine 
 
 Be  as  a  holy  shrine, 
 Filled  with  thy  Spirit,  glowing  with  thy  love. 
 
 O    LORD,    DELIVER! 
 
 f~\  LORD,  deliver  !  when  the  unclouded  ray 
 
 Of  earthly  joy  upon  our  path  is  glowing, 
 When  gentle  waters  flow  beside  the  way, 
 
 And  flowers  of  Eden  are  around  us  blowing ; 
 When  siren-voices  fill  the  air ;  when  mirth 
 
 And  gladness  founts  of  pleasure  are  unsealing  ; 
 When  silken  cords  are  binding  us  to  earth, 
 
 And  soft  delusion  o'er  our  souls  is  stealing,  — 
 Then,  Father,  save  ! 
 
 O  Lord,  deliver  !  when  the  tempest's  wing 
 
 Sweeps  wildly  o'er  the  way  our  feet  are  treacling, 
 When  deep  and  deeper  shades  are  gathering, 
 
 A  horror  of  great  darkness  round  us  spreading; 
 When  hope  deferred  is  preying  on  the  heart ; 
 
 When  friends,  true  friends,  in    death's   embrace    are 
 sleeping ; 
 When,  cold  and  faithless,  trusted  ones  depart, 
 
 And  we  alone  our  mournful  watch  are  keeping,  — 
 Then,  Father,  save ! 
 
238  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 O  Lord,  deliver  !  in  that  solemn  hour 
 
 When  mysteries  of  life  and  death  are  blending  ; 
 When  the  stern  angel,  with  a  hand  of  power, 
 
 The  veil  from  the  eternal  world  is  rending ; 
 And  light  is  on  the  spirit,  — piercing  rays,  — 
 
 Forgotten  sins,  secret  offences,  bringing 
 Before  the  soul,  which,  shrinking  from  the  blaze, 
 
 For  aid,  for  mercy,  to  thine  arm  is  clinging,  — 
 Then,  Father,  save  ! 
 
 STEPHEN    GREENLEAF    BULFINCH. 
 
 (1809-1870.) 
 
 Rev.  Stephen  G.  Bulfinch,  D.D.,  was  born  in  Boston,  June  18, 
 1809,  and  was  the  son  of  Charles  Bulfinch,  a  prominent  citizen  and  a 
 well-known  architect,  who  was  the  designer  of  the  National  Capitol  at 
 Washington,  and  removed  thither  with  his  family  in  18 18.  The  son 
 graduated  at  Columbia  College,  in  that  city,  in  1827,  and  at  the  Theologi- 
 cal School  at  Cambridge  in  1830.  He  soon  entered  upon  the  work  of  an 
 evangelist  at  Augusta,  Ga.,  and  received  ordination  to  the  ministry  from 
 Rev.  Samuel  Gilman,  of  Charleston,  S.C.,  Jan.  9,  1831.  At  subsequent 
 periods  of  his  life,  he  was  settled  over  various  Unitarian  societies  in  other 
 parts  of  the  country,  —  at  Pittsburgh,  Pa.,  during  the  winter  of  1837- 
 1838;  at  Washington,  D.C.,  in  1838;  at  Nashua,  N.H.,  in  1845;  at 
 Dorchester  (Harrison  Square)  in  1852  ;  and  at  East  Cambridge,  Mass., 
 in  1865.  He  died  at  the  last-named  place,  suddenly,  of  disease  of 
 the  heart,  Oct.  12,  1870.  Said  the  "Boston  Transcript,"  in  a  fitting 
 tribute  to  his  worth,  just  after  his  decease  :  "Of  a  beautiful  spirit,  ear- 
 nest convictions,  sympathetic  and  devout  nature,  he  won  the  respect  and 
 love  of  the  people  wherever  he  served,  and  was  known  by  them  all  for 
 his  pure  and  blameless  life,  and  his  conscientious  and  Christian  fidelity  in 
 all  professional  and  personal  relations." 
 
 He  married,  Oct.  4,  1836,  Miss  Maria  Howard,  of  Savannah,  Ga.,  who 
 died  during  his  ministry  at  Pittsburgh.  His  second  marriage  was  in 
 December,  1842,  to  Miss  Caroline  Phelps,  of  Hadley,  Mass.,  now  resi- 
 dent at  Cambridge. 
 
 Dr.  Bulfinch  was  a  laborious  student  and  a  most  diligent  writer,  and 
 enriched  the  Christian  literature  of  the  religious  body  to  which  he  be- 
 longed with  a  large  number  of  excellent  published  discourses  and  maga- 
 
STEPHEX  GREENLEAF  BULFINCH.  239 
 
 zine  articles,  and  with  many  volumes  of  his  prose  and  poetry.  The  latter 
 are,  "Contemplations  of  the  Saviour,"  a  series  of  extracts  from  the  Gos- 
 pels, with  reflections  and  original  and  selected  hymns,  1832  (reprinted  in 
 England)  ;  "  Poems,"  dedicated  to  Rev.  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Gilman,  of  Charles- 
 ton, 1834;  "The  Holy  Land  and  its  Inhabitants,"  a  number  of  the 
 "  Sunday  School  Library,"  1834;  "Lays  of  the  Gospel,"  founded  on  his 
 "Contemplations  of  the  Saviour,"  and  embracing  most  of  the  author's 
 sacred  hymns  and  poems,  1845  '■>  "Communion  Thoughts,"  consisting  of 
 extracts  from  sermons  and  of  some  verses  not  before  published,  1850; 
 "  Palestine  and  the  Hebrew  People,"  a  Sunday  school  text-book,  1853  ; 
 "The  Harp  and  the  Cross,"  a  collection  of  religious  poetry  from  different 
 sources,  prepared  for  the  American  Unitarian  Association,  1857  ;  "  Honor, 
 or  the  Slave-Dealer's  Daughter,"  a  novel,  1864  ;  choice  selections  from 
 Shakespeare,  entitled  "Shakespeare,  adapted  for  Reading  Classes  and 
 for  the  Family  Circle,"  which  he  edited,  in  connection  with  his  brother, 
 'Thomas  Bulfinch,  1S65.;  "Manual  of  the  Evidences  of  Christianity," 
 1S66;  and  "  Studies  in  the  Evidences  of  Christianity,"  1S69.  He  pre- 
 pared also  some  Grecian  stories,  which  were  about  to  appear  in  the 
 "  Student  and  Schoolmate  "  at  the  time  of  his  death.  Dr.  Bulfinch  was 
 a  good  Greek  and  Hebrew  scholar,  and,  during  the  first  term  of  the  col- 
 lege year  at  Cambridge,  in  1S64-1S65,  he  taught  Hebrew  in  the  Divinity 
 School  for  Dr.  Noyes,  who  was  sick ;  and  in  the  last  hours  of  his  own 
 life  he  received  a  notice  of  his  appointment  as  the  teacher  of  Greek  in 
 the  same  institution.  He  received  his  degree  of  D.D.  from  Columbia 
 College  in  1864. 
 
 As  a  writer  of  hymns,  Dr.  Bulfinch  has  had  few  superiors  in  the  com- 
 munion to  which  he  belonged.  Most  of  his  poetry  is  of  a  deeply  religious 
 character,  and  is  marked  by  a  natural  simplicity  and  flow  of  thought,  an 
 unusual  purity  and  beauty  of  diction,  a  high  degree  of  spiritual  fervor, 
 and  that  element  of  devout  feeling  and  tender  love  which  dwelt  so  richly 
 in  the  soul  itself  of  this  gentle  and  saintly  bard,  from  earliest  youth  even 
 to  the  last.  Many  of  his  hymns,  originally  published  in  his  own  volumes, 
 are  now  to  be  found  in  numerous  Compilations.  Some  of  the  best  and 
 most  cherished  of  them,  such  as  "Hail  to  the  Sabbath  day,"  "Lord,  in 
 whose  might  the  Saviour  trod,"  "O  suffering  Friend  of  human  kind," 
 "  Hath  not  thy  heart  within  thee  burned,"  and  others  of  like  merit, 
 appeared  in  his  "Contemplations  of  the  Saviour,"  as  long  ago  as  1832, 
 when  their  author  was  only  twenty-three  years  of  age.  When  his  little 
 volume  of  "Poems"  was  published  in  Charleston,  in  1S34,  only  five 
 copies  of  it  were  sold  in  that  city,  and  of  these  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Gilman 
 bought  three.  Since  then,  not  a  few  of  the  hymns  which  it  contained 
 have  been  sung  in  numberless  churches,  of  different  sects,  in  our  own 
 country  and  across  the  seas.  We  take  such  as  we  present  here  mostly 
 from  the  larger  edition  of  his  poetical  writings,  "  Lays  of  the  Gospel," 
 in  which  some  of  his  earlier  verses  appear   variously  altered  or  extended. 
 
240  SONGS   OF  THE  LIBERAL   FAITH. 
 
 BIRTH    OF   JOHN    THE    BAPTIST. 
 
 "  The  dayspring  from  on  high  "  —  Luke  i.  78. 
 
 ROILING  through  the  livelong  night, 
 
 Faint,  uncertain  of  his  way, 
 How  the  traveller  hails  the  light, 
 Herald  of  the  coming  day ! 
 
 Thus,  when  fraud  and  rapine  threw 
 
 O'er  the  world  their  cloud  afar, 
 On  the  good  man's  raptured  view 
 
 Broke  the  dawn  of  Judah's  star. 
 
 Tears  of  joy  and  gratitude 
 
 Hailed  the  Baptist's  natal  morn, 
 
 For  the  heavenly  light-  renewed, 
 For  another  prophet  born. 
 
 Born  to  go  before  the  face 
 
 Of  Judea's  Saviour-king ; 
 Tidings  of  celestial  grace 
 
 To  the  mourning  land  to  bring. 
 
 Thus  began  the  song  of  praise 
 '    For  the  dayspring's  earliest  ray  • 
 How  should  we  the  anthem  raise 
 For  the  gospel's  perfect  day  ! 
 
 BIRTH    OF   JESUS. 
 
 11  Glory  to  God  in  the  highest,  and  on  earth  peace,  good-will  toward  men."  —  Luke  ii.  14. 
 
 G] 
 
 LORY  to  God ! 
 
 The  Lord,  the  Righteous,  hath  looked 
 down  from  heaven, 
 And  great  salvation  to  his  people  given. 
 Glory  to  God  ! 
 
STEP  HEX  GREENLEAF  BULFINCH.  241 
 
 Peace  on  the  earth  ! 
 Now  let  the  sons  of  men  in  harmony 
 Accept  the  blessing  sent  by  God  on  high. 
 
 Peace  on  the  earth  ! 
 
 Good-will  to  men  ! 
 For  God,  the  merciful,  his  Son  hath  sent, 
 To  bid  the  sinner's  stubborn  heart  relent. 
 
 Good-will  to  men  ! 
 
 Messiah  comes  ! 
 Now  is  the  appointed  time  of  prophecy. 
 Israel,  rejoice  !  deliverance  draweth  nigh. 
 
 Messiah  comes  S 
 
 Hail.  Prince  of  Peace  ! 
 Hail,  Virgin  Mother!  on  thy  blameless  breast 
 The  Hope  of  nations  takes  his  smiling  rest. 
 
 Hail,  Prince  of  Peace  ! 
 
 CONVERSATION    WITH    NICODEMUS. 
 
 Except  a  man  be  born  again,  he  cannot  see  the  kingdom  of  God  "  —  John  iii.  3. 
 
 /^\UR  life  is  but  a  span, 
 
 And  full  of  fears  and  woes  ; 
 
 In  tears  our  earthly  course  began, 
 
 In  tears  that  course  must  close. 
 
 But,  Lord  !  through  thee  we  own 
 
 A  new  and  heavenly  birth, 
 Kindred  to  spirits  round  thy  throne, 
 
 Though  sojourners  of  earth. 
 
 How  glorious  is  the  hour 
 
 When  first  our  souls  awake 
 Through  thy  mysterious  Spirit's  power, 
 
 And  of  new  life  partake  ! 
 16 
 
242  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 With  richer  beauty  glows 
 
 The  world,  before  so  fair ; 
 Her  holy  light  Religion  throws, 
 
 Reflected  everywhere. 
 
 Amid  repentant  tears 
 
 We  feel  sweet  peace  within  ; 
 We  know  the  God  of  mercy  hears, 
 
 And  pardons  every  sin. 
 
 The  life  that  thou  hast  given, 
 
 O  Lord  !  shall  never  end  ; 
 The  grave  is  but  the  path  to  heaven, 
 
 And  Death  is  now  our  friend. 
 
 Born  of  thy  Spirit,  Lord, 
 
 Thy  Spirit  may  we  share  ; 
 Deep  in  our  hearts  inscribe  thy  word, 
 
 And  place  thine  image  there. 
 
 Teach  us  to  walk  aright 
 
 On  earth,  as  serving  thee ; 
 Then  take  us  to  thy  realms  of  light, 
 
 Thine  to  eternity. 
 
 The  following  hymn  appears,  nearly  as  it  is  presented  here,  in  two  of 
 Dr.  Bulfinch's  earlier  volmnes.  In  his  "Lays  of  the  Gospel,"  thert?  are 
 inserted  three  more  stanzas  which  we  omit,  giving  these  five,  of  course,  in 
 their  authorized  form. 
 
 THE  SABBATH    DAY. 
 
 "  I  will  have  mercy,  and  not  sacrifice."  —  Matthew  xii.  7. 
 
 TTAIL  to  the  Sabbath  clay ! 
 The  day  divinely  given, 
 When  men  to  God  their  homage  pay, 
 And  earth  draws  near  to  heaven. 
 
 Lord,  in  thy  sacred  hour 
 
 Within  thy  courts  we  bend, 
 And  bless  thy  love,  and  own  thy  power, 
 
 Our  Father  and  our  Friend  ! 
 
STEPHEN  GREENLEAF  BULFINCH.  243 
 
 Hut  thou  art  not  al  >ne 
 
 In  courts  by  mortals  trod  ; 
 
 only  is  the  day  thine  own, 
 When  crowds  adore  their  God. 
 
 Thy  Temple  is  the  arch 
 
 Of  yon  unmeasured  sky  ; 
 Thy  Sabbath,  the  stupendous  march 
 Of  grand  eternity. 
 
 Lord,  may  a  holier  day 
 
 Dawn  on  thy  servants'  sight ; 
 And  grant  us  in  thy  courts  to  pray, 
 
 Of  pure,  unclouded  light. 
 
 JESUS    WALKS    ON    THE    SEA. 
 
 And  in  the  fourth  watch  of  the  night,  Jesus  went  unto  them,  walking  on  the  sea. 
 Matthew  x'v.  25. 
 
 ORD,  in  whose  might  the  Saviour  trod 
 The  dark  and  stormy  wave  ; 
 And  trusted  in  his  Father's  arm, 
 Omnipotent  to  save  ! 
 
 When  darkly  round  our  footsteps  rise 
 The  floods  and  storms  of  life, 
 
 Send  thou  thy  Spirit  down  to  still 
 The  elemental  strife. 
 
 Strong  in  our  trust,  on  thee  reposed, 
 
 The  ocean  path  we'll  dare, 
 Though  waves  around  us  rage  and  foam, 
 
 Since  thou  art  with  us  there. 
 
244  SOArGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH, 
 
 THE    TESTIMONY   OF    MIRACLES. 
 
 The  works  which  the  Father  hath  given  me  to  finish,  the  same  works  that  I  do,  bear 
 witness  of  me,  that  the  Father  hath  sent  me."  —  John  v.  36. 
 
 TTOLY  Son  of  God  most  high, 
 
 Clothed  in  heavenly  majesty  ! 
 Many  a  miracle  and  sign, 
 In  thy  Father's  name  divine, 
 Manifested  forth  thy  might 
 In  the  chosen  people's  sight. 
 
 But,  O  Saviour  !  not  alone 
 Thus  thy  glory  was  made  known. 
 Kindly  human  wants  relieving, 
 Gently  with  the  mourner  grieving, 
 Far  thy  matchless  power  above, 
 Stands  the  witness  of  thy  love. 
 
 Thou,  who  by  the  open  grave, 
 Ere  thy  voice  was  raised  to  save, 
 Didst  with  those  fond  sisters  shed 
 Tears  above  the  faithful  dead ; 
 Even  thy  word  of  might  appears 
 Less  resistless  than  thy  tears. 
 
 When  upon  the  fatal  tree 
 Thou  didst  writhe  in  agony, 
 Had  that  pain  in  triumph  ended, 
 Hadst  thou  royally  ascended, 
 Less  sublime  had  been  thy  power, 
 Than  thy  patience  shone  that  hour. 
 
 Lord  !  it  is  not  ours  to  gaze 
 On  thy  works  of  ancient  days  ; 
 But  thy  love,  unchanged  and  bright, 
 More  than  all  those  works  of  might, 
 More  than  miracle  and  sign, 
 Makes  us  ever,  ever  thine. 
 
STEPHEN  GREENLEAF  BULFINCH.  245 
 
 THE    BARREN    FIG-TREE. 
 
 Behold,  these  three  years  I  come  seeking  fruit  on  this  fig-tree,  and  find  none ;  cut  it 
 down  ;  why  cumbereth  it  the  ground  ?  "  —  Like  xiii.  7. 
 
 "VT'EAR  passeth  after  year,  O  Lord  our  God  ! 
 
 Thy  mercy  spares  us,  and  thy  might  sustains. 
 Sometimes  we  feel  the  chastening  of  thy  rod, 
 
 Sometimes  thy  love  with  gentle  voice  complains. 
 By  turns  thy  sun  hath  smiled,  thy  storms  have  frowned, 
 No  worthy  fruit  is  ours,  vain  cumberers  of  the  ground. 
 
 Shouldst  thou  in  anger  speak,  Lord !  who  could  stand 
 
 Before  thy  justice  in  its  dreadful  hour  ? 
 Who  could  endure  the  thunders  of  thy  hand, 
 
 What  human  might  arrest  thy  sovereign  power? 
 Spare  us,  O  God,  thy  mercy  we  implore  ! 
 Grant  to  the  barren  tree  space  for  one  trial  more. 
 
 One  trial  more !     If  then  we  bear  no  fruit, 
 
 O  God  of  justice  !  who  shall  longer  stay 
 Thine  arm  ?     Behold  the  axe  is  at  the  root. 
 
 O  let  Repentance  prune  our  faults  away.  „ 
 Thy  grace,  O  Lord  !  in  plenteous  showers  descend, 
 And  bid  the  rescued  boughs  with  clustering  honors  bend. 
 
 THOUGHTS    ON    THE    SAVIOUR. 
 
 n  this  hymn  as  it  originally  appeared  in  "Contemplations  of  the  Saviour."  1^32. 
 The  last  stanza  is  slightly  altered  in  the  "  Poems,"  1834.     In  the  "  Lays  of  the  Gospe 
 the  stanza  referred  to  is  omitted,  five  stanzas  are  added  to  the  first  three;  and  the  hymn 
 is  entitled  "Christ's  Reproof  to  Peter." 
 
 r\   SUFFERING  Friend  of  human  kind  ! 
 ^^^      How,  as  the  fatal  hour  drew  near, 
 Came  thronging  on  thy  holy  mind 
 The  images  of  grief  and  fear  ! 
 
 Gethsemane's  sad  midnight  scene, 
 
 The  faithless  friends,  the  exulting  foes, 
 
 The  thorny  crown,  the  insult  keen, 
 
 The  scourge,  the  cross,  before  thee  rose. 
 
246     SONGS   OF   THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 Did  not  thy  spirit  shrink  dismayed, 
 
 As  the  dark  vision  o'er  it  came  ; 
 And,  though  in  sinless  strength  arrayed, 
 
 Turn,  shuddering,  from  the  death  of  shame  ? 
 
 But  onward  still,  through  scorn  and  dread, 
 
 Didst  thou  thy  Father's  call  obey, 
 Steadfast  thy  path  of  duty  tread, 
 
 And  rise,  through  death,  to  endless  day. 
 
 "  CHILDREN    BROUGHT    TO    CHRIST." 
 
 "  Suffer  the  little  children  to  come  unto  me,  and  forbid  them  not:  for  of  such  is  the  kin| 
 domofGod."  —  Mark  x.  14. 
 
 'VT'ES  !  there  were  some  among  thy  hearers,  Lord  ! 
 Who  knew  thine  own  blest  spirit,  and  to  thee 
 Brought  their  young  children  in  their  purity, 
 Deeming  aright  such  visits  would  afford 
 Joy  to  a  heart  like  thine.     With  gracious  word 
 
 Didst  thou  receive  them  ;  and  that  hallowed  scene 
 Hath  ever  to  the  Christian  parent  been 
 A  fount  of  deep  delight.     Thou  dost  accord 
 Thy  blessing  to  our  children.     We  would  lead 
 To  thee  these  young  immortals.     Oh,  receive 
 To  thy  divine  instructions,  Saviour  blest ! 
 And  in  thy  freedom  make  them  free  indeed  ; 
 And  if  in  childhood  they  are  called  to  leave 
 Our  arms  of  love,  may  they  with  thee  find  rest. 
 
 The  larger  part  of  the  hymn  from  which  the  following  lines  are  taken 
 is  here  omitted  :  — 
 
 THE    USE    OF    PRESENT    OPPORTUNITIES. 
 
 "  And  the  Lord  commended  the  unjust  steward,  because  he  had  done  wisely ;  for  the 
 children  of  this  world  are  in  their  generation  wiser  than  the  children  of  light."  —Luke 
 xvi-  8. 
 
 CHILDREN  of  light,  awake  ! 
 
 At  Jesus'  call  arise, 
 Forth  with  your  leader  to  partake 
 His  toils,  his  victories. 
 
STEPHEN  GREENLEAF  BULFINCH.         247 
 
 Ye  must  not  idly  stand, 
 
 His  sacred  voice  who  hear  ; 
 Arm  for  the  strife  the  feeble  hand, 
 
 The  holy  standard  rear. 
 
 Naught  doth  the  world  afford, 
 
 But  toil  must  be  its  price  ; 
 Wilt  thou  not,  servant  of  the  Lord, 
 
 Then  toil  for  paradise  ? 
 
 Awake,  ye  sons  of  light ! 
 
 Strive  till  the  prize  be  won  ; 
 Far  spent  already  is  the  night ; 
 
 The  day  comes  brightening  on. 
 
 INSTITUTION    OF   THE    LORD'S -SUPPER. 
 
 "  This  do  in  remembrance  of  me."  —  Llke  xxii.  19. 
 
 "HPAKE,  and  eat,"  the  Saviour  said, 
 As  he  gave  the  hallowed  bread. 
 "  This  be  your  perpetual  token 
 Of  my  body,  torn  and  broken. 
 
 "  As  I  pour  this  ruby  wine, 
 Must  be  poured  this  blood  of  mine. 
 By  that  purple,  gushing  tide 
 Shall  the  world  be  purified. 
 
 "  Ye  whom  I  so  long  have  loved, 
 In  toy  trials  faithful  proved  ; 
 Thus  when  I  have  left  your  sight, 
 Keep  my  memory  ever  bright." 
 
 Time  passed  on.     The  Saviour's  death 
 Sealed  the  triumph  of  his  faith  j 
 And  the  chosen  of  the  Lord 
 Treasured  well  his  parting  word. 
 
 To  their  souls  that  feast  was  dear  j 
 His  mild  voice  they  seemed  to  hear  ; 
 As  they  shared  the  bread  and  wine, 
 Still  they  saw  his  form  divine. 
 
248  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 Many  a  century  hath  fled 
 
 Since  they  slumbered  with  the  dead ; 
 
 But  as  we  thy  word  fulfil, 
 
 Jesus  !  we  behold  thee  still. 
 
 Still  in  sacramental  sign 
 As  we  pour  the  hallowed  wine, 
 Our  enraptured  spirits  gaze 
 On  that  scene  of  ancient  days. 
 
 Lo  !  once  more  the  board  is  crowned  ; 
 The  disciples  gather  round  ; 
 See  !  their  hearts  are  sunk  in  woe  ; 
 Hark  !  what  words  from  Jesus  flow  ! 
 
 Often  .may  our  hearts  unite 
 In  this  blest  communion-rite, 
 Pledge  of  Christian  love  and  faith, 
 Emblem  of  the  Saviour's  death. 
 
 In  the  "  Lays  of  the  Gospel,"  the  following  hymn  appears,  with  two 
 additional  stanzas  after  the  fourth,  and  with  the  fifth  slightly  changed. 
 We  give  it  as  it  was  originally  published  in  the  writer's  earlier  volumes, 
 and  as  it  has  generally  been  printed  in  the  Church  Collections. 
 
 MEDITATION. 
 
 "  And  they  said  one  to  another,   Did  not  our  heart  burn  within  us  while  he  talked 
 with  us  by  the  way,  and  while  he  opened  to  us  the  Scriptures?"  —  Lukk  xxiv.  32. 
 
 "LTATH  not  thy  heart  within  thee  burned 
 
 At  evening's  calm  and  holy  hour, 
 As  if  its  inmost  depths  discerned 
 The  presence  of  a  loftier  power  ? 
 
 Hast  thou  not  heard,  'mid  forest-glades, 
 
 While  ancient  rivers  murmured  by, 
 A  voice  from  forth  the  eternal  shades, 
 
 That  spake  a  present  Deity  ? 
 
STEPHEN  GREENLEAF  BULFLXCII.  249 
 
 And  as,  upon  the  sacred  page, 
 
 Thine  eye  in  rapt  attention  turned 
 O'er  records  of  a  holier  age, 
 
 Hath  not  thy  heart  within  thee  burned  ? 
 
 It  was  the  voice  of  God,  that  spake 
 
 In  silence  to  thy  silent  heart ; 
 And  bade  each  worthier  thought  awake, 
 
 And  every  dream  of  earth  depart. 
 
 Voice  of  our  God,  O,  yet  be  near  ! 
 
 In  low,  sweet  accents  whisper  peace  ; 
 Direct  us  on  our  pathway  here, 
 
 Then  bid  in  heaven  our  wanderings  cease. 
 
 The    following   hymn    is    from    the    volume    entitled    "Communion 
 Thoughts,"  second  edition,  1S52  :  — 
 
 THE    COMMUNION    OF    SAINTS. 
 
 "\T  7E  gather  to  the  sacred  board, 
 Perchance  a  scanty  band  ; 
 But  with  us  in  sublime  accord 
 What  mighty  armies  stand  ! 
 
 In  creed  and  rite  howe'er  apart, 
 
 One  Saviour  still  we  own, 
 And  pour  the  worship  of  the  heart 
 
 Before  our  Father's  throne. 
 
 A  thousand  spires  o'er  hill  and  vale 
 
 Point  to  the  same  blue  heaven  ; 
 A  thousand  voices  tell  the  tale 
 
 Of  grace  through  Jesus  given. 
 
 High  choirs,  in  Europe's  ancient  fanes, 
 
 Praise  Him  for  man  who  died  ; 
 And  o'er  our  boundless  Western  plains 
 
 His  name  is  glorified. 
 
250  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 Around  his  tomb,  on  Salem's  height, 
 Greek  and  Armenian  bend  ; 
 
 And  through  all  Lapland's  months  of  night, 
 The  peasant's  hymns  ascend. 
 
 Are  we  not  brethren  ?     Saviour  dear  ! 
 
 Then  may  we  walk  in  love, 
 Joint  subjects  of  thy  kingdom  here, 
 
 Joint  heirs  of  bliss  above  ! 
 
 AKABAH* 
 
 To  the  Memory  of  Rev.  William  P.  Lunt,  D.D. 
 
 "\17HERE  the  dark  sea  of  Egypt  throws 
 
 Its  last  spray  o'er  Arabia's  sands, 
 Where  in  tall  groups  the  date-palm  grows, 
 A  tower  of  other  ages  stands. 
 
 The  warriors  of  the  crescent  there 
 
 Watch,  from  the  mountain  to  the  plain, 
 
 The  caravan's  long  line  appear 
 
 In  stately  march  to  Mecca's  fane,  — 
 
 Or,  on  that  long  untravelled  sea. 
 With  fear  and  powerless  envy  mark 
 
 The  cross,  Britannia's  blazonry, 
 
 Float  o'er  the  intruding  western  bark. 
 
 Wild  scene  of  death  was  thine,  O  friend  ! 
 
 The  dark-browed  sons  of  Ishmael  nigh  ; 
 No  dear  familiar  face  to  bend 
 
 In  sorrow  o'er  thy  closing  eye. 
 
 *  Akabah,  where  Dr.  Lunt  died,  is  at  the  extremity  of  the  eastern  gulf  of  the  Red 
 Sea,  a  military  post  on  the  route  of  the  caravans  from  Egypt  to  Mecca.  It  is 
 described  by  Burckhardt,  and  others,  as  consisting  principally  of  a  castle,  built  in 
 the  sixteenth  century,  and  surrounded  by  date-palms.  It  is  near  the  site  of  the 
 ancient  cities  of  Elath  and  Ezion-Geber,  at  the  latter  of  which  the  ships  of  Jehosh- 
 aphat  were  destroyed.  —  i  Kings  xxii.  48. 
 
STF.ri//: X  GREENLEAF  BULFINCH. 
 
 Thy  mind,  in  many  a  dreamy  hour, 
 Had  roved  in  Israel's  far-off  land  ; 
 
 Thy  Christian  heart  had  craved  the  power, 
 Where  thy  Redeemer  stood,  to  stand. 
 
 It  might  not  be.     Where  broken  lay 
 The  ships,  a  Hebrew  monarch's  pride, 
 
 A  nobler  vessel  far  than  they 
 
 Was  broken  when  our  pilgrim  died. 
 
 Thy  deep,  clear  voice  is  heard  no  more  ; 
 
 We  see  no  more  thy  calm,  dark  eye. 
 Yon  stately  fane,  where  crowds  adore, 
 
 Echoes  a  mourning  people's  sigh. 
 
 And  love  that  might  have  checked  the  flow 
 Of  grief,  to  view  thy  parting  smile, 
 
 In  widowed  and  in  orphaned  woe 
 
 Shall  weep,  —  yet  heavenward  look  the  while. 
 
 With  theirs  the  tears  of  age  shall  blend, 
 Submission  to  Heaven's  high  decree  ; 
 
 And  many  a  sympathizing  friend 
 Shall  mourn  departed  worth  in  thee. 
 
 Rest  thou  in  peace  !  The  hallowed  hill 
 
 Of  Zion  'twas  not  thine  to  climb, 
 Nor  feel  thy  poet-pulses  thrill 
 
 On  Tabor's  mountain  height  sublime. 
 
 But,  for  those  types  denied  to  thee, 
 The  heavenly  Canaan  is  thine  own  ; 
 
 And  from  the  desert  and  the  sea 
 Thou  risest  to  thy  Saviour's  throne  ! 
 
 Dorchester,  June  i,  1^57. 
 
252  SONGS  OF   THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 The  following  lines,  written  by  Dr.  Bulfinch  a  few  brief  months  before 
 his  death,  were  addressed  to  Rev.  Dr.  William  Newell,  of  Cambridge, 
 and  were  occasioned  by  the  death  (July  8,  1870)  of  a  beloved  daughter 
 of  the  latter,  Mrs.  Richard  Stone,  in  whose  funeral  services  the  father 
 participated. 
 
 LINES    TO    REV.    DR.    NEWELL. 
 
 "  Religion  of  the  cross!  alone  'tis  thine 
 In  one  bright  wreath  to  twine 
 The  double  palms  of  meekness  and  of  might."' 
 
 Schiller. 
 
 "VX7HY  should  such  sorrow  come,  I  asked,  to  thee, 
 
 O  gentle  friend  ?    Need'st  thou  the  chastening  rod, 
 Who  from  bright  youth,  through  pure  maturity, 
 To  lovely  age,  hast  ever  walked  with  God  ? 
 But  not  by  thee  is  this  affliction  borne 
 For  thine  own  sake  ;  thou  teachest  us  to  bear  : 
 For  when  I  saw  thee  stand  so  calmly  there, 
 With  words  of  comfort  unto  all  that  mourn, 
 I  saw  what  strength  with  meekness  may  combine, 
 And  my  own  heart,  by  late  bereavement  #  tried, 
 Drank  in  the  sweet  submissiveness  of  thine, 
 And  felt  new  strength  to  bear,  from  thine  supplied. 
 To  our  old  friendship  a  new  tie  is  given  ; 
 We,  friends  on  earth,  —  our  daughters,  friends  in  heaven. 
 
 Cambridge,  July  n,  1870. 
 
 OLIVER    WENDELL    HOLMES. 
 
 (1809.) 
 
 Oliver  Wendell  Holmes,  M.D.,  was  born  at  Cambridge,  Mass., 
 August  29,  1809.  His  father  was  Rev.  Abiel  Holmes,  D.D.,  a  distin- 
 guished clergyman  of  that  town,  and  the  author  of  "  Annals  of  America  " 
 and  various  other  works.  His  mother  was  Sarah,  daughter  of  Hon. 
 Oliver  Wendell,  of  Boston.  The  son  received  his  early  education  at 
 Phillips  Academy,  Exeter,  N.H.,  and  graduated  at  Harvard  College  in 
 1829,  in  the  same  class  with  Benjamin  R.  Curtis,  Benjamin  Peirce,  George 
 T.  Bigelovv,  James  Freeman  Clarke,  William  Henry  Channing,  Chandler 
 
 *  Dr.  Bulfinch's  youngest  daughter,  Annie,  died  Sept.  19,  1863,  aged  23. 
 
OLIVER    WENDELL  HOLMES.  253 
 
 Robbins,  and  other  now  noted  men.  He  began  to  study  law,  but  aban- 
 doned that  profession  for  the  study  of  medicine.  For  the  more  success- 
 ful prosecution  of  the  latter,  he  went  abroad  in  1832,  spending  several 
 years  in  attendance  on  the  hospitals  of  Paris  and  other  cities.  He  re- 
 ceived the  degree  of  M.D.  in  1836,  after  his  return;  and  in  1S3S  was 
 elected  Professor  of  Anatomy  and  Physiology  in  Dartmouth  College.  In 
 1S47  he  was  mule  Professor  in  the  same  department  in  Harvard  College, 
 succeeding  Dr.  Warren.  This  place  he  still  occupies,  having  long  ago 
 abandoned  the  general  practice  of  his  profession. 
 
 He  began  to  attract  attention  as  a  poet  even  during  his  college  life, 
 when  he  contributed  to  the  "Collegian,"  a  periodical  conducted  by  the 
 undergraduates.  Other  pieces  were  published  in  "  Illustrations  of  the 
 Athenaeum  Gallery  of  Paintings,"  in  1831,  and  in  the  "  Harbinger,"  a  May 
 gift,  in  1S33.  His  "Poetry,  a  Metrical  Essay,"  was  read  before  the  Phi 
 Beta  Kappa  Society  in  1836;  "Terpsichore,"  at  a  dinner  of  the  same 
 society  in  1S43  ;  and  "Urania,  a  Rhymed  Lesson,"  was  pronounced  be- 
 fore the  Mercantile  Library  Association,  in  Boston,  in  1846.  In  1850  he 
 delivered  his  poem,  "  Astraea,"  before  the  Yale  Chapter  of  the  Phi  Beta 
 Kappa.  The  first  collected  edition  of  his  poems  appeared  from  the 
 press  in  1S36.  Enlarged  editions  have  since  appeared  from  time  to  time, 
 and  have  been  republished  in  England. 
 
 In  connection  with  his  profession,  he  has  published  various  works  :  in 
 1S38,  "  Boylston  Prize  Dissertations  ; "  in  1839,  in  conjunction  with  Dr. 
 James  Bigelow,  an  edition  of  Hall's  "  Theory  and  Practice  of  Medicine  ;  " 
 in  1S42,  "Lectures  on  Homoeopathy,  and  its  Kindred  Delusions;"  in 
 184S,  a  "Report  of  Medical  Literature,"  in  the  "Transactions  of  the 
 National  Medical  Society;"  and  also  a  pamphlet  on  "Puerperal  Fever." 
 
 In  1857  he  commenced  a  series  of  articles  for  the  "Atlantic  Monthly," 
 entitled  "  The  Autocrat  of  the  Breakfast-Table,"  which  were  afterward 
 published  in  a  volume.  These  were  followed  by  others,  also  in  the 
 Atlantic,  "The  Professor  at  the  Breakfast-Table,"  and  these,  also,  by 
 "The  Poet  at  the  Breakfast-Table,"  both  of  which  have  been  repub- 
 lished like  the  first,  and  are  too  well  known  and  much  admired  to  need 
 comment  here.  The  last  of  these  works  appeared  in  a  volume  in  1872. 
 His  "  Elsie  Venner  "  appeared  in  i86r,  and  his  "  Guardian  Angel  "  in  1867. 
 
 Dr.  Holmes  delivered,  before  the  Phi  Beta  Kappa  Society,  Cambridge, 
 June  29,  1870,  an  essay  on  "Mechanism  in  Thought  and  Morals,"  which 
 was  given  to  the  press  in  1871.  He  has  frequently  contributed  to  vari- 
 ous medical  and  literary  periodicals,  and  has  also  distinguished  himself 
 as  a  popular  lecturer.  "As  a  writer  of  songs  and  lyrics,"  says  the 
 sketch  in  Appleton's  Cyclopaedia,  to  which,  as  well  as  to  the  notice  in 
 Griswold's  "  Poets  of  America,"  we  are  indebted  for  much  of  this  bio- 
 graphical account,  "Dr.  Holmes  stands  in  the  front  rank."  And  Gris- 
 wold  says  :  "  Dr.  Holmes  is  a  poet  of  art  and  humor  and  genial  sentiment, 
 with  a  style  remarkable  for  its  purity,  terseness,  and  point,  and  for  an 
 exquisite  finish  and  grace."  His  well-known  hymns,  it  is  enough  to  say, 
 arc  worthy  of  the  author  of  "The  Chambered  Nautilus." 
 
254  SONGS   OF   THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 A      BIRTHDAY     TRIBUTE 
 To  James  Freeman  Clarke. 
 
 "\T7HO  is  the  shepherd  sent  to  lead, 
 
 Through  pastures  green,  the  Master's  sheep  ? 
 What  guileless  "  Israelite  indeed  " 
 
 The  folded  flock  may  watch  and  keep? 
 
 He  who  with  manliest  spirit  joins 
 The  heart  of  gentlest  human  mould, 
 
 With  burning  light  and  girded  loins, 
 To  guide  the  flock,  or  watch  the  fold  ; 
 
 True  to  all  truth  the  world  denies, 
 Not  tongue-tied  for  its  gilded  sin  ; 
 
 Not  always  right  in  all  men's  eyes, 
 But  faithful  to  the  light  within  ; 
 
 Who  asks  no  meed  of  earthly  fame, 
 Who  knows  no  earthly  master's  call, 
 
 Who  hopes  for  man  through  guilt  and  shame, 
 Still  answering,  "  God  is  over  all ;  " 
 
 Who  makes  another's  grief  his  own, 
 Whose  smile  lends  joy  a  double  cheer : 
 
 W7here  lives  the  saint,  if  such  be  known  ? 
 Speak  softly,  —  such  an  one  is  here  ! 
 
 O  faithful  shepherd  !  thou  hast  borne 
 
 The  heat  and  burden  of  the  clay  ; 
 Yet,  o'er  thee,  bright  with  beams  unshorn, 
 
 The  sun  still  shows  thine  onward  way. 
 
 To  thee  our  fragrant  love  we  bring, 
 In  buds  that  April  half  displays,  — 
 
 Sweet  first-born  angels  of  the  spring, 
 Caught  in  their  opening  hymn  of  praise 
 
 What  though  our  faltering  accents  fail, 
 Our  captives  know  their  message  well, 
 
 Our  words  unbreathed  their  lips  exhale, 
 And  sigh  more  love  fnan  ours  can  tell. 
 
OLIVER    WENDELL  HOLMES.  255 
 
 THE   CHAMBERED   NAUTILUS. 
 
 'T^HIS  is  the  ship  of  pearl,  which,  poets  feign, 
 
 Sails  the  unshadowed  main, — 
 
 The  adventurous  bark  that  flings 
 On  the  sweet  summer  wind  its  purpled  wings 
 In  gulfs  enchanted,  where  the  Siren  sings, 
 
 And  coral  reefs  lie  bare, 
 Where  the  cold  sea-maids  rise  to  sun  their  streaming 
 hair. 
 
 Its  webs  of  living  gauze  no  more  unfurl  ; 
 
 Wrecked  is  the  ship  of  pearl  ! 
 
 And  every  chambered  cell, 
 Where  its  dim,  dreaming  life  was  wont  to  dwell, 
 As  the  frail  tenant  shaped  his  growing  shell, 
 
 Before  thee  lies  revealed,  — 
 Its  irised  ceiling  rent,  its  sunless  crypt  unsealed  ! 
 
 Year  after  year  beheld  the  silent  toil 
 
 That  spread  his  lustrous  coil ; 
 
 Still,  as  the  spiral  grew, 
 He  left  the  past  year's  dwelling  for  the  new, 
 Stole  with  soft  step  its  shining  archway  through, 
 
 Built  up  its  idle  door, 
 Stretched  in  his  last-found  home,  and  knew  the  old  no 
 more. 
 
 Thanks  for  the  heavenly  message  brought  by  thee, 
 
 Child  of  the  wandering  sea, 
 
 Cast  from  her  lap,  forlorn  ! 
 From  thy  dead  lips  a  clearer  note  is  born 
 Than  ever  Triton  blew  from  wreathed  horn  ! 
 
 While  on  mine  ear  it  rings, 
 Through  the  deep  caves  of  thought  I  hear  a  voice  that 
 sin:rs  :  — 
 
56  SONGS  OF   THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 Build  thee  more  stately  mansions,  O  my  soul, 
 
 As  the  swift  seasons  roll ! 
 
 Leave  thy  low-vaulted  past ! 
 Let  each  new  temple,  nobler  than  the  last, 
 Shut  thee  from  heaven  with  a  dome  more  vast ; 
 
 Till  thou  at  length  art  free, 
 Leaving  thine  outgrown  shell  by  life's  unresting  sea ! 
 
 THE    PROMISE. 
 
 TVTOT  charity  we  ask, 
 
 Nor  yet  thy  gift  refuse  ; 
 Please  thy  light  fancy  with  the  easy  task, 
 Only  to  look  and- choose. 
 
 The  little-heeded  toy 
 That  wins  thy  treasured  gold 
 May  be  the  dearest  memory,  holiest  joy, 
 Of  coming  years  untold. 
 
 Heaven  rains  on  every  heart, 
 But  there  its  showers  divide, 
 The  drops  of  mercy  choosing  as  they  part 
 The  dark  or  glowing  side. 
 
 One  kindly  deed  may  turn 
 The  fountain  of  thy  soul 
 To  love's  sweet  day-star,  that  shall  o'er  thee  burn 
 Long  as  its  currents  roll ! 
 
 The  pleasures  thou  hast  planned,  — 
 Where  shall  their  memory  be 
 When  the  white  angel  with  the  freezing  hand 
 Shall  sit  and  watch  by  thee  ? 
 
 . 
 
OLIVER    WENDELL   HOLMES.  257 
 
 Living,  thou  dost  not  live, 
 If  mercy's  spring  run  dry  ; 
 What  Heaven  has  lent  thee  wilt  thou  freely  give, 
 Dying,  thou  shalt  not  die  ! 
 
 He  promised  even  so  ! 
 To  thee  His  lips  repeat,  — 
 Behold,  the  tears  that  soothed  thy  sister's  woe 
 Have  washed  thy  Master's  feet ! 
 
 HYMN    OF   TRUST. 
 
 f~\  LOVE  Divine,  that  stooped  to  share' 
 
 Our  sharpest  pang,  our  bitterest  tear, 
 On  Thee  we  cast  each  earth-born  care, 
 We  smile  at  pain  while  Thou  art  near! 
 
 Though  long  the  weary  way  we  tread, 
 And  sorrow  crown  each  lingering  year, 
 
 No  path  we  shun,  no  darkness  dread, 
 
 Our  hearts  still  whispering,  Thou  art  near ! 
 
 When  drooping  pleasure  turns  to  grief, 
 And  trembling  faith  is  changed  to  fear, 
 
 The  murmuring  wind,  the  quivering  leaf, 
 Shall  softly  tell  us,  Thou  art  near ! 
 
 On  Thee  we  fling  our  burdening  woe, 
 
 O  Love  Divine,  forever  dear, 
 Content  to  suffer  while  we  know, 
 
 Living  and  dying,  Thou  art  near ! 
 
 A    SUN-DAY    HYMN. 
 
 T    ORD  of  all  being  !  throned  afar, 
 
 Thy  glory  flames  from  sun  and  star  ; 
 Centre  and  soul  of  every  sphere, 
 Yet  to  each  loving  heart  how  near ! 
 '7 
 
258  SOA'GS   OF   THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 Sun  of  our  life,  thy  quickening  ray 
 Sheds  on  our  path  the  glow  of  day  ; 
 Star  of  our  hope,  thy  softened  light 
 Cheers  the  long  watches  of  the  night. 
 
 Our  midnight  is  thy  smile  withdrawn  ; 
 Our  noontide  is  thy  gracious  dawn  ; 
 Our  rainbow  arch  thy  mercy's  sign  ; 
 All,  save  the  clouds  of  sin,  are  thine ! 
 
 Lord  of  all  life,  below,  above, 
 
 Whose  light  is  truth,  whose  warmth  is  love, 
 
 Before  thy  ever-blazing  throne 
 
 We  ask  no  lustre  of  our  own. 
 
 Grant  us  thy  truth  to  make  us  free, 
 And  kindling  hearts  that  burn  for  thee, 
 Till  all  thy  living  altars  claim 
 One  holy  light,  one  heavenly  flame  ! 
 
 THE    LAST    LOOK. 
 
 "DEHOLD  —  not  him  we  knew  ! 
 
 This  was  the  prison  which  his  soul  looked 
 through, 
 Tender,  and'  brave,  and  true. 
 
 His  voice  no  more  is  heard  ; 
 And  his  dead  name  —  that  dear  familiar  word  — 
 Lies  on  our  lips  unstirred. 
 
 He  spake  with  poet's  tongue  ; 
 Living,  for  him  the  minstrel's  lyre  was  strung : 
 He  shall  not  die  unsung! 
 
 Grief  tried  his  love,  and  pain  ; 
 And  the  long  bondage  of  his  martyr-chain 
 Vexed  his  sweet  soul,  —  in  vain  ! 
 
OLIVER    WENDELL    HOLMES.  259 
 
 It  felt  life's  surges  break  ; 
 As,  girt  with  stormy  seas,  his  island  lake, 
 Smiling  while  tempests  wake. 
 
 How  can  we  sorrow  more  ? 
 Grieve  not  for  him  whose  heart  had  gone  before 
 To  that  untrodden  shore  ! 
 
 Lo,  through  its  leafy  screen, 
 A  gleam  of  sunlight  on  a  ring  of  green, 
 Untrodden,  half  unseen ! 
 
 Here  let  his  body  rest, 
 Where  the  calm  shadows  that  his  soul  loved  best 
 May  slide  above  his  breast. 
 
 Smooth  his  uncurtained  bed  ; 
 And  if  some  natural  tears  are  softly  shed, 
 It  is  not  for  the  dead. 
 
 Fold  the  green  turf  aright 
 For  the  long  hours  before  the  morning's  light, 
 And  say  the  last  Good-night ! 
 
 And  plant  a  clear  white  stone 
 Close  by  those  mounds  which  held  his  lo\  ed,  his  own, — 
 Lonely,  but  not  alone. 
 
 Here  let  him  sleeping  lie, 
 Till  Heaven's  bright  watchers  slumber  in  the  sky, 
 And  Death  himself  shall  die  ! 
 
 INTERNATIONAL   ODE. 
 Our  Fathers'  Land. 
 
 Sung   in  unison  by  twelve  hundred  children  of  the  public  schools,  at  the  visit  rf  the 
 Prince  of  Wales  to  Boston,  Oct  iS,  i36o.     Air,  "  God  save  the  Queen." 
 
 G 
 
 OD   bless  our  Fathers'  Land  ! 
 Keep  her  in  heart  and  hand 
 One  with  our  own  ! 
 
26o  SONGS  OF   THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 From  all  her  foes  defend, 
 Be  her  brave  People's  Friend, 
 On  all  her  realms  descend, 
 Protect  her  Throne  ! 
 
 Father,  with  loving  care 
 
 Guard  Thou  her  kingdom's  Heir, 
 
 Guide  all  his  ways  : 
 Thine  arm  his  shelter  be, 
 From  him  by  land  and  sea 
 Bid  storm  and  danger  flee, 
 
 Prolong  his  days. 
 
 Lord,  let  War's  tempest  cease, 
 Fold  the  whole  Earth  in  peace 
 
 Under  Thy  wings  ! 
 Make  all  Thy  nations  one, 
 All  hearts  beneath  the  sun, 
 Till  Thou  shalt  reign  alone, 
 
 Great  King  of  kings. 
 
 ARMY   HYMN. 
 
 r\  LORD  of  Hosts  !  Almighty  King  ! 
 
 Behold  the  sacrifice  we  bring ! 
 To  every  arm  Thy  strength  impart, 
 Thy  spirit  shed  through  every  heart. 
 
 Wake  in  our  breasts  the  living  fires, 
 The  holy  faith  that  warmed  our  sires  ; 
 Thy  hand  hath  made  our  Nation  free  : 
 To  die  for  her  is  serving  Thee. 
 
 Be  Thou  a  pillared  flame  to  show 
 The  midnight  snare,  the  silent  foe  ; 
 And  when  the  battle  thunders  loud, 
 Still  guide  us  in  its  moving  cloud. 
 
MARY  WHITWELL   HALE.  26 
 
 God  of  all  Nations  !  Sovereign  Lord  ! 
 In  Thy  dread  name  we  draw  the  sword  ; 
 We  lift  the  starry  flag  on  high 
 That  tills  with  light  our  stormy  sky. 
 
 From  treason's  rent,  from  murder's  stain, 
 Guard  Thou  its  folds  till  Peace  shall  reign,  — 
 Till  fort  and  field,  till  shore  and  sea, 
 Join  our  loud  anthem,  Praise  to  Thee  ! 
 
 MARY   WHITWELL    HALE. 
 
 (1810-1862.) 
 
 Mary  W.  Hale  was  born  in  Boston,  Mass.,  Jan.  29,  1810.  In  our 
 inquiries  concerning  the  story  of  this  gifted  songstress,  we  learned  that  her 
 history  was  well  known  to  Rev.  Andrew  Bigelow,  D.D.,  of  that  city  ;  and 
 our  application  to  him  for  some  particulars  in  regard  to  her  life  led  to 
 quite  an  extended  sketch  of  her  by  his  son  Timothy  Bigelow,  Esq.,  which 
 we  sincerely  hope,  from  considerations  of  justice  to  her  memory  and 
 from  the  deeply  interesting  manner  in  which  the  writer  has  treated  his 
 subject,  may  be  soon  given  to  one  of  our  magazines.  Having  carefully 
 prepared  his  account,  from  what  was  known  to  himself  and  his  venerable 
 father,  and  from  what  he  was  able  to  gather  from  her  surviving  brother, 
 he  kindly  placed  his  manuscript  into  our  hands  to  make  use  of  such 
 parts  of  it  as  we  might  see  fit.  We  take  from  it  the  following  facts, 
 trusting  that  the  whole  narrative  may  ere  long  see  the  light. 
 
 Miss  Hale's  father  was  Eliphalet  Hale,  of  Boston,  an  intelligent  and 
 high-minded  merchant  of  that  city.  Her  mother  was  Abigail,  daughter 
 of  Colonel  Jonathan  Waters,  himself  an  old  Bostonian.  At  the  time  of  her 
 birth  the  parents  resided  in  Hollis  Street,  and  were  parishioners  of  Dr. 
 Kirkland,  who  baptized  her,  and  whom  she  afterwards  commemorated  in 
 verse.  She  attended  the  public  schools,  and  was  apt,  quick,  and  faithful 
 in  her  studies.  In  1S22  the  family  removed  to  Jamaica  Plain,  and  in 
 1S24  returned  to  Boston,  where,  at  the  Franklin  Grammar  School,  she 
 graduated  in  1825.  For  the  next  three  years  she  was  connected,  as  a 
 pupil,  with  a  Young  Ladies'  Academy  in  Phillips  Place,  maintaining  a 
 very  high  rank  during  the  entire  course,  and  winning  at  the  close  a  firs! 
 prize  for  English  composition,  and  most  flattering  encomiums  from  her 
 instructor,  Ebenezer  Bailey.  She  then  went  to  visit  her  friends  in  Keene, 
 N.H.,  where  she  consented  to  fill  a  vacancy  as  a  teacher  in  one  of  the 
 
262  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 town  schools.  Her  services  gave  much  satisfaction,  but  continued  for 
 only  a  year  in  consequence  of  the  sickness  and  death  of  her  mother. 
 Soon  after  this  painful  affliction,  she  assisted  Mr.  Bailey  for  a  year  in 
 his  work  at  the  Phillips  Place  Academy,  and  was  then  herself  taken  sick 
 and  brought  very  near  the  grave.  At  this  time  she  wrote  a  very  solemn 
 vow  of  consecration  to  the  will  and  service  of  God,  and  was  faithful  to 
 it  through  all  her  subsequent  life.  On  her  recovery,  she  returned  to  her 
 labors  at  Phillips  Place,  then  taught  at  Wellfleet  on  the  Cape,  and  after 
 spending  a  short  time  at  Newton  went  to  Taunton,  where  she  assumed 
 in  December,  1833,  the  duties  of  Preceptress  in  the  Bristol  Academy. 
 Here  she  had  great  success  in  her  profession,  and  gained  a  host  of  friends 
 among  all  circles  and  sects.  Owing  to  certain  unjust  treatment  which 
 she  received  from  the  Principal  of  the  institution,  she  surrendered  her 
 position  and  opened  a  private  school  in  the  same  town.  Leaving  Taun- 
 ton in  1842,  she  once  more  went  to  Keene,  where  she  established  and  for 
 many  years  taught  another  school,  which  under  her  care  enjoyed  a  high 
 and  enviable  reputation.  Here  her  father  died,  Sept.  26,  1852  ;  and  here 
 she  herself  passed  to  her  rest,  Nov.  17,  1862,  her  remains  being  borne  to 
 Mount  Auburn  for  burial. 
 
 Miss  Hale,  in  addition  to  her  many  arduous  professional  labors, 
 devoted  herself  zealously  to  works  of  practical  benevolence,  and  was 
 an  earnest  and  exemplary  member  of  the  Christian  Church.  She  first 
 entered  into  this  last-mentioned  relation  under  the  guidance  of  her  ex- 
 cellent and  beloved  pastor  at  Taunton,  Rev.  Andrew  Bigelow,  D.D., 
 who,  in  all  her  toils,  successes,  and  trials,  was  her  ardent  and  unwaver- 
 ing friend.  She  was  a  teacher  in  his  Sunday  school,  a  constant  and 
 efficient  helper  in  all  the  varied  interests  of  his  society,  a  frequent  and 
 ever-welcome  visitor  in  his  family,  and  an  angel  of  love  and  light  to 
 the  poor  and  the  desolate  around  her.  This  philanthropic  and  pious 
 zeal  she  carried  with  her  to  Keene,  making  her  influence  felt  in  Rev. 
 W.  O.  White's  Church  in  that  place,  as  she  had  done  in  Dr.  Bigelow's  at 
 Taunton  ;  and  then,  when  the  war  broke  out,  exciting  the  admiration  of 
 all  by  her  heroic  and  exhausting  labors  as  secretary  of  the  Cheshire 
 County  Soldier's  Aid  Society,  and  by  the  inspiring  hymns  and  odes 
 which,  as  some  of  the  last  offerings  of  her  life,  she  laid  upon  the  altars  of 
 country  and  humanity. 
 
 While  yet  a  young  lady,  she  contributed  to  the  "  Boston  Evening 
 Gazette  "  a  variety  of  prose  sketches,  which  were  oftentimes  widely 
 copied  and  heartily  commended.  But  she  was  destined  to  excel  even 
 more  in  writing  verses.  Her  hymns,  entitled  "  Home  "  and  "  Music," 
 written  for  a  juvenile  concert  at  the  Unitarian  Church,  in  Taunton, 
 April,  1834,  first  brought  her  into  notice  as  a  poetess  ;  and  her  effusions 
 were  from  that  time  much  sought  after  for  many  public  occasions,  and 
 were  gladly  welcomed  to  the  columns  of  the  papers.  Not  a  few  of  her 
 best  pieces  appeared  in  the  "Christian  Register,"  under  the  initials 
 Y.  L.  E.     In  1S40  a  volume  of  her  "Poems  "  was  published  in  Boston 
 
MARY  WHITWELL  HALE.  263 
 
 by  William  D.  Ticknor.  These  productions  of  her  genius  are  nearly  all 
 of  a  religious  character,  being  penetrated  and  sanctified  by  that  deep 
 spirit  of  faith,  trust,  and  love  which  so  greatly  distinguished  her.  Some 
 of  them  seem  to  us  of  remarkable  merit,  while  scarcely  any  of  them  are 
 of  inferior  worth.  They  all  together  evidence  a  mind  of  uncommon 
 natural  endowments  and  of  fine  and  thorough  culture,  as  well  as  a  heart 
 consecrated  to  the  highest  ends  of  life  and  enriched  by  the  best  fruits 
 of  the  Christian  experience.  The  few  of  her  sacred  songs  which  have 
 passed  into  our  hymn-books  were  first  introduced  into  the  Cheshire 
 Collection,  one  or  more  of  whose  compilers  knew  her  and  her  fitness 
 for  a  place  in  such  a  volume.  From  a  copy  of  her  "Poems,"  now  long 
 out  of  print,  we  select  for  our  readers  the  following  specimens. 
 
 HOME. 
 
 These  lines  are  one  of  Miss  Hale's  earliest  pieces.     They  were  written  for  a  juvenile 
 concert  at  Taunton,  as  we  have  stated  in  the  sketch. 
 
 T1TOME  !    Home  !    As  we  kneel  at  thy  time-hallowed  shrine, 
 
 Our  hearts'  purest  incense  for  aye  shall  be  thine  ; 
 For   our   early-breathed   vows,  and  our  childhood's   young 
 
 prayer, 
 And  our  hearts'  dearest  wishes  are  all  centred  there. 
 
 A  light  from  that  altar  around  us  is  shed, 
 
 To  guide  us  in  safety,  wherever  we  tread ; 
 
 Like  the  moon's  gentle  lustre,  it  beams  on  the  eye, 
 
 Shining  purest  and  brightest  when  danger  is  nigh. 
 
 Oh  !  never,  till  life's  golden  sunlight  shall  set, 
 
 Can  we  the  loved  home  of  our  childhood  forget, 
 
 But  faithful  remembrance  to  rapture  shall  swell, 
 
 As  it  rests  on  the  spot  where  our  cherished  ones  dwell. 
 
 And  thus  may  the  magic  which  breathes  round  our  home 
 Still  guide,  as  'mid  life's  varied  pathway  we  roam, 
 Till  we  reach  the  bright  shore  where  the  freed  soul  may  rest, 
 The  land  of  the  faithful,  the  home  of  the  blest. 
 
264  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 UNIVERSAL   ADORATION. 
 
 A  S  up  to  heaven  our  eyes  we  raise, 
 
 And  on  its  shining  wonders  gaze, 
 Each  kindling  page  of  starry  light 
 Bears  record  of  thy  boundless  might. 
 
 We  look  upon  thy  footstool,  Earth, 
 Radiant  as  at  Creation's  birth. 
 Our  Maker's  impress  there  we  see ; 
 Its  ceaseless  homage  swells  to  thee. 
 
 The  ocean's  solemn,  mighty  roar 
 Calls  man  its  Author  to  adore  ; 
 And  while  its  grandeur  meets  the  eye, 
 To  seek  thy  gracious  throne  on  high. 
 
 The  voice  of  Spring,  the  Autumn's  glow, 
 The  Summer's  sun,  the  Winter's  snow, 
 Have  each  a  pure  and  thrilling  tone, 
 To  call  our  thoughts  to  thee  alone. 
 
 And  though  to  man  it  be  not  given 
 To  scan  the  "  mysteries  of  Heaven," 
 Still  we  thy  favor  may  implore, 
 Our  hearts  may  bless,  our  souls  adore. 
 
 GOD    NIGH    TO   THE    PENITENT. 
 
 The  Lord  is  nigh  unto  them  that  are  of  a  broken  heart,  and  saveth  such  as  be  of  a 
 contrite  spirit." 
 
 "VT IGH,  in  that  hour  of  secret  grief, 
 When  anguish  bows  the  head, 
 To  whisper  pardon  and  relief, 
 And  healing  oil  to  shed. 
 
 Nigh  in  the  covenant  of  his  love, 
 
 Traced  on  the  sacred  page, 
 Which  points  us  to  our  home  above,  — 
 
 Our  heavenly  heritage. 
 
MARY  WHITWELL  HALE.  26[ 
 
 A  broken  heart,  —  its  low-breathed  sighs, 
 
 lis  scarcely  uttered  prayer, 
 Shall  to  a  Father's  ear  arise, 
 
 An  1  meet  with  mercy  there. 
 
 And  though  full  oft  our  wandering  feet 
 Guilt's  thorn-strowed  path  have  trod, 
 
 Jesus  the  contrite  heart  shall  meet, 
 And  turn  it  to  its  God. 
 
 Xew  glory  from  this  throne  of  light 
 
 Shall  beam  its  cheering  ray  ; 
 For  oft  the  deepest  shade  of  night 
 
 Heralds  the  brightest  day. 
 
 '•LIFE    HAS    NO    CHARM    FOR    ME. 
 
 H 
 
 AS  life  no  charm  for  thee  ? 
 Are  there  no  visions  of  the  joyous  past, 
 Like  holy  spells  around  thy  pathway  cast  ? 
 
 Canst  thou  no  blessings  see 
 To  cheer  thee  in  thy  loneliness  of  heart, 
 And  to  thy  soul  their  gracious  aid  impart  ? 
 
 Oh  !  art  thou  all  unblest  ? 
 Come  there  no  glorious  hopes  thy  heart  to  cheer  ? 
 Is  there  no  hand  to  wipe  the  starting  tear  ? 
 
 Xo  thought  of  that  calm  rest, 
 Which  the  meek  child  of  God  alone  may  share, 
 Where  comes  no  withering  grief,  no  anxious  care  ? 
 
 Where  is  the  soul's  deep  love, 
 Resting  on  God  in  pure,  unchanging  trust  ? 
 Where  is  that  faith  which,  from  the  earth  and  dust, 
 
 Can  point  the  eye  above, 
 To  purer,  nobler  mansions  in  the  sky, 
 Where  its  freed  energies  can  never  die  ? 
 
\66  SONGS  OF   THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 Oh  !  let  thy  soul  rejoice  ; 
 Life  has  a  charm,  though  dark  to  thee  it  seem. 
 What  though  may  blighted  be  thy  heart's  bright  dream, 
 
 There  is  a  gentle  voice, 
 Bidding  thy  heart,  amid  this  deep  despair, 
 On  God  repose  the  burden  of  its  care. 
 
 And  Death  shall  bring  no  gloom : 
 It  is  the  pathway  which  thy  soul  must  tread, 
 As  to  thy  Father's  mansions  thou  art  led. 
 
 Beyond  the  silent  tomb, 
 When  to  that  heaven  thy  spirit  wings  its  flight, 
 Thy  God  shall  be  thine  everlasting  Light. 
 
 COMMUNION    HYMN. 
 
 'T^HE  hallowed  morn  returns  again, 
 
 Faith's  gazing  eye  to  greet. 
 Oh,  let  not  sin  our  spirits  stain, 
 As  round  the  board  we  meet ; 
 But  may  our  hearts,  from  earth  set  free, 
 Aspire,  Eternal  One,  to  thee  ! 
 
 God  !  let  us  bow  in  fervent  prayer 
 
 Around  thy- sacred  throne  ; 
 And,  as  we  cast  on  thee  our  care, 
 
 Worship  thy  name  alone  : 
 And  let  remembered  love  impart 
 A  glow  of  heaven  to  every  heart. 
 
 Here  may  we  gather  strength  and  might, 
 
 Life's  trial  way  to  tread  ; 
 And  may  thy  Spirit's  guiding  light, 
 
 Faith's  beaming  ray,  be  shed  : 
 So  may  the  holier  path  be  pressed, 
 Which  leads  to  thee,  and  heaven's  sweet  rest. 
 
MARY  WHITWELL  HALE.  267 
 
 ASPIRATION. 
 
 A  UTHOR  of  all  my  blessings  here, 
 
 Whose  word  can  stay  the  bitter  tear ! 
 Source  of  my  life,  my  Strength,  my  All ! 
 On  thy  dread  name  my  voice  would  call. 
 
 Endued  with  virtue's  high  desires, 
 The  deathless  soul  to  heaven  aspires ; 
 Above  the  scenes  of  earth  it  soars, 
 And  there  its  glorious  King  adores. 
 
 Oh,  let  not  sin  my  spirit  stain  ; 
 Let  me  not  read  thy  word  in  vain  ; 
 Let  me  from  Error's  touch  be  free, 
 And  fix  my  steadfast  heart  on  thee. 
 
 Earth,  with  thy  glittering  dust,  away  ! 
 
 Not  for  thy  dazzling  gifts  I  pray  ; 
 
 But  may  the  gem  alone  be  given, 
 
 Whose  brightness  lights  my  path  to  heaven. 
 
 SUNDAY    SCHOOL    FESTIVAL,    1837. 
 
 "pATHER  !  when  gathered  round  thy  throne, 
 
 Thy  name  to  bless,  thy  love  to  win, 
 Deign  with  our  contrite  souls  to  meet, 
 Thus  suppliant  at  thy  mercy-seat. 
 
 Thanks  for  the  gospel  of  our  Lord  ; 
 What  strength  divine  its  words  afford  ! 
 Peace  when  the  angry  storm-clouds  lower, 
 And  sweeter  joy  in  hope's  bright  hour. 
 
 Bless,  Father !  bless  this  faithful  band, 
 Who  here  around  thine  altar  stand  ; 
 Make  each  young  heart  thy  favored  shrine, 
 And  touch  it  with  thy  fire  divine. 
 
268  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 And  he,  thy  watchman  on  this  tower, 
 
 Gird  him  with  grace,  and  strength,  and  power  ; 
 
 His  heart  sustain,  his  spirit  cheer, 
 
 And  bless  him  with  thy  presence  here. 
 
 Guide  those  who  wait,  with  patient  love, 
 To  point  each  infant  eye  above  ; 
 To  them  a  priceless  meed  be  given,  — 
 Thy  peace  on  earth,  thy  smile  in  heaven. 
 
 Press  on,  ye  heralds  of  his  word  ! 
 Follow  in  faith  your  risen  Lord  ! 
 Press  on,  untiring,  till  your  eye 
 Discern  the  land  of  promise  nigh  ! 
 
 So  when  our  feet  its  shores  shall  tread, 
 By  God  our  Father  gently  led, 
 There  may  we  all  the  chorus  raise 
 Of  fervent  prayer  and  grateful  praise. 
 
 EVENING   HYMN. 
 
 "pATHER  !  before  I  close  mine  eyes, 
 
 To  thee  my  grateful  thoughts  would  rise  ; 
 For  all  the  mercies  of  the  day 
 My  heart  would  now  its  tribute  pay. 
 
 Be  thou  my  theme  of  daily  praise, 
 Thou  great  and  good  in  all  thy  ways  ; 
 And  daily  let  me  seek  in  prayer 
 Thy  watchful  love,  thy  guardian  care. 
 
 In  weakness  here  I  bend  to  thee  ; 
 Wilt  thou  my  strength  in  weakness  be  ? 
 In  error  here  my  footsteps  roam  ; 
 Oh,  lead  me  to  my  heavenly  home ! 
 
 Thy  peace  as  holy  incense  shed 
 O'er  my  defenceless,  sleeping  head  ; 
 And  through  the  dangers  of  the  night 
 Protect  me  safe  till  morning  light. 
 
M.IRY  WHITWELL   HALE.  269 
 
 In  safety  guide  my  wandering  feet, 
 Till  I  thyself  in  glory  meet  : 
 Then  take  me  to  thy  heavenly  rest, 
 To  be  with  thee  for  ever  blest. 
 
 There  shall  no  night  of  error  be  ; 
 No  sin  divide  thy  smile  from  me  : 
 But  perfect,  pure,  unchanging  day 
 Beam  on  the  soul  its  glowing  ray. 
 
 HYMN. 
 
 For  the  consecration  of  Mt.  Pleasant  Cemetery,  Taunton,  Sept.  4,  1835. 
 
 A  ROUND  thy  forest  shrine, 
 Eternal  God  !  we  bend, 
 While  to  yon  dome  of  thine 
 
 Faith's  breathing  tones  ascend, — 
 To  spread  abroad,  From  Nature's  fane, 
 
 The  choral  strain,  To  Nature's  God. 
 
 The  whispering  wind  around, 
 
 The  glorious  sky  above, 
 The  trees'  sweet,  murmuring  sound,  — 
 All,  all  proclaim  thy  love. 
 A  thrilling  voice,  Breathed  on  the  ear, 
 
 Checks  every  fear,  Bids  man  rejoice. 
 
 Where  Nature's  hues  of  bloom 
 
 In  summer  beauty  reign, 
 Shall  sadness,  doubt,  and  gloom 
 Breathe  here  their  mournful  strain  ? 
 Let  songs  of  praise  To  God  be  given, 
 
 And  high  to  heaven  Joy's  chorus  raise. 
 
 To  Faith,  to  Hope,  to  Love 
 
 This  spot  we  consecrate, 
 While,  raised  to  thee  above, 
 Our  hearts  thy  blessing  wait. 
 To  thee  we  pray,  Our  Father,  God  ; 
 
 Through  him  who  trod     Death's  silent  way. 
 
270  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 Our  souls  shall  never  fear 
 
 The  path  he  blest  to  tread  ; 
 Calmly  we'll  enter  here 
 The  chambers  of  the  dead. 
 Here  shall  we  sleep,         And  fear  no  ill, 
 While  angels  still  Their  vigils  keep. 
 
 To  thee,  Great  King  of  kings  ! 
 
 When  life's  short  dream  is  o'er, 
 On  Hope's  aspiring  wings 
 Oh,  may  our  spirits  soar, 
 And  swell  on  high  That  strain  to  Thee 
 
 Whose  melody  Shall  never  die. 
 
 THE    PEACE    OF    GOD.* 
 
 "  Thou  wilt  keep  him  in  perfect  peace,  whose  mind  is  stayed  on  thee. 
 
 "PTERNAL  Father,  throned  above  ! 
 
 Fountain  of  life  and  light  and  love  ! 
 To  thee  our  suppliant  voice  we  raise ; 
 To  thee  we  turn  our  earnest  gaze. 
 
 Our  hearts  shall  know  no  dark  dismay, 
 Though  clouds  are  gathering  o'er  our  way  ; 
 And  though  the  angry  tempest  roar, 
 Our  souls  thy  wisdom  shall  adore. 
 
 Silent,  submissive  still  to  thee, 
 Grant  us,  Eternal  One,  to  be  ; 
 And  still  that  perfect  peace  impart, 
 Thy  blessing  to  the  trusting  heart. 
 
 And  when  life's  checkered  scene  is  past, 
 Joy's  summer  smile,  grief's  wintry  blast, 
 And  we  the  eternal  shore  shall  tread, 
 By  thee,  our  Father,  gently  led,  — 
 
 Still  in  the  mansions  of  the  blest 
 Our  hearts'  deep  trust  on  thee  shall  rest ; 
 And  there  the  perfect  peace  of  heaven, 
 That  holy  heritage,  be  given. 
 
 *  Christian  Register,  Nov.  7,  1835. 
 
MARY  IVHITWELL  HALE.  2;i 
 
 UPON    WHOM    DOTH    NOT   HIS    LIGHT   ARISE?" 
 
 TS  there  a  secret,  hidden  place, 
 
 How  lone  soever  it  may  be, 
 In  which  Faith's  vision  may  not  trace 
 The  light  of  God's  divinity  ? 
 
 Thou  poor  afflicted  one,  whose  eye, 
 
 Dim  with  the  frequent-falling  tear, 
 Can  see  no  friendly  beacon  nigh, 
 
 Thy  spirit's  struggling  grief  to  cheer,  — 
 
 Lift  up  thine  eye  !     A  splendor  streams 
 All  glorious  from  God's  throne  of  light ; 
 
 Full  on  the  bursting  eye  it  beams, 
 
 And  turns  to  day  grief's  darkest  night. 
 
 Thou  weary  one  !  who  fain  wouldst  lay 
 
 The  burdens  of  thy  labor  down, 
 To  share  the  only  cloudless  day, 
 
 And  win  the  only  fadeless  crown,  — 
 
 Not  to  the  dreams  of  dark  despair 
 
 Be  all  thy  weary  moments  given  ; 
 Breathe  forth  thy  soul  in  grateful  prayer, 
 
 And  patient  wait  the  light  from  heaven. 
 
 Darkness  and  clouds  are  o'er  the  way, 
 That  leads  us  to  our  heavenly  rest ; 
 
 But  faith  can  view  the  beaming  ray, 
 That  gilds  the  regions  of  the  blest. 
 
 Turn  to  that  rest  thy  tearful  eye, 
 
 And  God's  own  hand  thy  steps  shall  guide, 
 
 Till  thou  shalt  see  his  mansions  nigh, 
 And  stand  his  glorious  throne  beside. 
 
272  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 INVOCATION. 
 
 "PATHER,  enthroned  above  ! 
 
 Thou  Source  of  life  and  love ! 
 On  thine  Eternal  Name  my  voice  would  call. 
 
 Hear  me  as  thus  I  pray, 
 
 And  let  a  heavenly  ray, 
 Gently  as  night-dews,  on  my  spirit  fall. 
 
 While  suppliant  thus  I  kneel, 
 
 Let  me  thy  presence  feelw 
 In  the  bright  noontide  as  the  evening  shade  ; 
 
 When,  in  the  hour  of  prayer, 
 
 I  bring  to  thee  my  care, 
 May  my  heart's  confidence  on  thee  be  stayed. 
 
 Spare  thou  the  loved  and  dear, 
 
 Life's  trial  way  to  cheer  ; 
 Long  may  their  faithful,  changeless  love  be  given  ; 
 
 And,  'mid  my  lonely  grief, 
 
 Grant  me  the  sweet  relief, 
 The  trust  to  meet  those  cherished  ones  in  heaven. 
 
 And  to  my  fainting  heart 
 
 Wilt  thou  thine  aid  impart  ? 
 In  weakness,  Mighty  One  !  I  bend  to  thee. 
 
 When  the  fierce  storm  is  nigh, 
 
 And  raised  to  thee  my  eye,     . 
 Wilt  thou  my  strength  in  earthly  weakness  be  ? 
 
 When  the  dark  hour  has  passed, 
 
 Of  earthly  woe  the  last, 
 And  the  soul  quits  its  prison  house  of  clay,  — 
 
 Thou  !  to  whom  Death  must  bow, 
 
 Great  King  of  kings  !  wilt  thou 
 Receive  my  spirit  to  eternal  day  ? 
 
 , 
 
MARY  U'HITU'ELL  HALE.  273 
 
 THE    TRUE    SOURCE    OF    STRENGTH. 
 
 "  Strength  is  born 
 In  the  deep  stillness  of  long-suffering  hearts, 
 Not  amid  joy."  Mrs.  Hemans. 
 
 "IVTOT  amid  pleasure's  giddy  throng, 
 
 Where  sweetly  breathes  the  siren  song, 
 Gathers  the  spirit  strength  to  bear 
 Its  deepest,  heaviest  weight  of  care. 
 
 Not  when  the  flashing  eye  beams  bright 
 With  hope's  sweet  ray  and  memory's  light ; 
 Not  where  the  wreath  of  rose-hued  flowers 
 We  weave  to  deck  life's  sunniest  hours. 
 
 The  siren  strain,  the  gilded  hall, 
 Where  light  as  air  gay  footsteps  fall,  — 
 Not  these  that  blessed  gift  bestow, 
 Strength  to  sustain  life's  deepest  woe. 
 
 But  they  above  whose  grief-bowed  head 
 No  herald  light  of  day  is  shed,  — 
 Whose  hearts  no  ark  of  rest  discern, 
 Whither  the  fluttering  dove  may  turn,  — 
 
 They  who  from  childhood's  earliest  day 
 Have  seen  each  brilliant  hope  decay,  — 
 These,  these  alone  the  fountains  know, 
 Whence  streams  of  blessed  healing  flow. 
 
 Yes  !  fortune's  frown,  the  altered  gaze 
 Of  those  who  shared  our  brightest  days, 
 The  weary  day,  the  anxious  night 
 Scarce  gloomier  e'en  than  morning  light, — 
 
 Like  gentlest  messengers  they  come 
 To  guide  us  to  our  unseen  home, 
 Strength  from  their  mingling  might  is  given 
 To  tread  life's  pilgrim  path  to  heaven. 
 18 
 
274  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 Thanks  for  the  sunlight  of  our  lot ; 
 Be  not  its  Gracious  Fount  forgot : 
 Yet  shall  our  holiest  praise  arise, 
 When  He  withdraws  it  from  our  eyes. 
 
 "ALL  THY  WORKS  SHALL  PRAISE  THEE,  AND  THY 
 SAINTS    SHALL   BLESS    THEE." 
 
 /^NE  universal  strain  of  praise 
 
 Creation  to  its  God  shall  raise  ; 
 Its  matin  song,  its  vesper  tone, 
 Swell  ceaseless  to  its  Maker's  throne. 
 
 Morn  wakes  for  him  its  radiant  beam, 
 Him  starry  midnight  makes  its  theme, 
 Their  anthem  strains  his  children  bring, 
 While  prayer  lifts  up  its  sacred  wing. 
 
 Yet  notes  more  holy  shall  ascend, 
 With  angel  harmony  to  blend  : 
 Praise  in  his  earthly  courts  is  given  ; 
 Praise  tunes  the  harps  of  saints  in  heaven. 
 
 Eternal  Father  !  King  divine  ! 
 Grant  we  may  meet  around  thy  shrine, 
 And  wake  to  thee  that  strain  on  high, 
 Whose  melody  shall  never  die. 
 
 LINES    WRITTEN    AFTER   AN    ORDINATION. 
 
 TF  ever  angel's  wing 
 
 Droop  from  its  home  of  purity  and  bliss, 
 Pardon,  salvation,  blessedness  to  bring, 
 
 It  is  in  hours  like  this. 
 
 The  holy  rite  is  done ; 
 The  solemn,  consecrating  prayer  is  said. 
 Servant  of  God,  and  herald  of  his  Son  ! 
 
 Peace  be  upon  thy  head. 
 
 . 
 
MARY  WHITWELL  HALE.  275 
 
 Fast  to  thy  spirit  gird 
 The  shield  of  faith  to  guard  in  danger's  hour. 
 Thy  helmet  be  Salvation,  and  His  word 
 
 Thy  sword  of  conquering  power. 
 
 Even  as  a  daily  dress, 
 Truth's  radiant  robe  of  grace  and  glory  wear. 
 The  shining  breastplate  of  his  righteousness 
 
 Like  Christ's  true  soldier  bear. 
 
 Watchman  on  Zion's  hill ! 
 Set  the  glad  word  of  mercy  to  proclaim, 
 Make  known  to  men  thy  Father's  gracious  will, 
 
 And  magnify  his  name. 
 
 So  when  the  Master's  voice 
 Shall  summon  thee  in  glory  to  appear, 
 As  peasant's  heart  at  eventide,  rejoice 
 
 The  low-breathed  call  to  hear. 
 
 And  as  his  weary  feet 
 Turn  fondly  to  his  home  at  close  of  day, 
 So  may  thy  heart  with  holy  rapture  beat, 
 
 To  tread  death's  heavenward  way. 
 
 God  keep  thy  soul  in  love, 
 Strong  through  the  conquering  energy  of  prayer, 
 Till  gathered  to  his  ministry  above, 
 
 Thy  Saviour  greets  thee  there. 
 
 THE    EARLY    DEAD. 
 
 "PLOWERS  for  the  early  dead  ! 
 
 The  rose,  the  lily,  and  the  violet  bring, 
 Around  their  quiet  resting-place  to  shed,  — 
 A  precious  offering. 
 
2?6  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 Joy  for  the  early  dead  ! 
 Joy  for  the  meed  of  perfect  rapture  given  ! 
 Earth's  phantom  flash  before  that  beam  has  fled, 
 
 Full-orbed  and  bright,  of  heaven. 
 
 Smiles  for  the  early  dead ! 
 We  grieve  not  when,  his  day  of  labor  o'er, 
 The  weary  peasant  bows  his  fainting  head 
 
 At  his  low  cottage  door. 
 
 Tears  for  the  early  dead  ! 
 The  bright  and  beautiful  from  earth  set  free : 
 Yes  !  drop  upon  their  flower-encircled  bed 
 
 Tears  of  sweet  ecstasy. 
 
 Prayers  for  the  early  dead  ! 
 Of  fervent  thanksgiving  and  holy  trust, 
 Through  him,  the  Conqueror  over  death,  be  said, 
 
 Above  their  sleeping  dust. 
 
 Songs  for  the  early  dead  ! 
 Wherewith  to  cheer  the  heart  of  sorrowing  love, 
 They  sweep  their  golden  harps  with  those  who  tread 
 
 Celestial  courts  above. 
 
 Thus  crown  the  early  dead, 
 Whose  grave  is  even  as  a  hallowed  shrine. 
 With  all  pure  things  and  bright  their  names  are  wed, 
 
 In  union  most  divine. 
 
 THE  RETURNING  WANDERER. 
 
 TI^ELCOME  !  thou  blessed  spot ! 
 
 Too  long  my  feet  the  stranger's  soil  have  pressed. 
 Long  viewless,  but,  oh  !  never  yet  forgot, 
 I  seek  thy  blissful  rest. 
 
 Welcome  !  my  childhood's  home ! 
 How  cloth  my  soul  with  voiceless  rapture  burn  ! 
 Once  more  thy  well-remembered  haunts  to  roam, 
 
 My  wandering  footsteps  turn. 
 
MARY  WHITWELL   HALE.  277 
 
 Before  the  shrine  I  bow, 
 Holy  and  hallowed  by  the  air  of  heaven, 
 Where,  by  the  covenant  of  baptismal  vow, 
 
 My  soul  to  God  was  given. 
 
 My  spirit  leaps  to  greet 
 Its  altar-fires,  its  music  rich  and  rare, 
 And  listen  to  the  breathings  low  and  sweet, 
 
 Borne  on  the  wings  of  prayer. 
 
 And  thou,  upon  whose  breast 
 Peaceful  I  slept  in  helpless  infancy, 
 Whose  voice  in  dreams  I  hear,  mother  most  blest  ! 
 
 Weary  I  turn  to  thee. 
 
 When  on  the  billowy  deep, 
 Through  cloud  and  storm  my  watery  path  I  trod, 
 Thine  eye  around  my  way  its  watch  did  keep, 
 
 Thou  ever-blessed  God  ! 
 
 When  Death's  dread  power  was  nigh, 
 Thy  guardian  love  my  life  unharmed  hath  kept, 
 While  fond  affection,  o'er  the  dying  eye, 
 
 In  speechless  sorrow  wept. 
 
 Therefore  to  thee  I  raise, 
 To  thee,  whence  mercy  and  deliverance  came, 
 With  filial  gratitude,  a  song  of  praise, 
 
 And  bless  thy  hallowed  name. 
 
 Guide  me  in  safety  through 
 Earth's  wanderings,  till  death's  narrow  way  be  pressed 
 And  the  sweet  founts  and  pastures  green  I  view 
 
 Of  my  eternal  rest. 
 
 THE    SON    OF    GOD. 
 
 "^"OT  within  palace-halls 
 The  holy  Infant  lay  ; 
 And  yet  upon  those  lowlier  walls 
 Beamed  a  celestial  ray  ; 
 
278  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 For  there  God's  well-beloved  Child 
 Reposed,  —  the  holy,  undenled  ! 
 
 Not  on  a  downy  bed 
 
 Did  the  Redeemer  lie  ; 
 He  had  not  where  to  lay  his  head 
 
 Beneath  that  Eastern  sky ; 
 And  yet  earth's  desert  wastes  he  trod, 
 One  with  his  Father  and  his  God ;  — 
 
 One  in  that  holy  love 
 
 Which  his  whole  nature  filled : 
 
 His  was  the  meekness  of  the  dove  ; 
 Yet  from  his  lips  distilled 
 
 Wisdom  which  earth  can  never  reach, 
 
 Wisdom  which  Heaven  alone  can  teach. 
 
 Sin  had  no  power  to  dim 
 The  radiance  of  his  brow  ; 
 
 Earth  with  its  glories  tempted  him, 
 His  soul  they  could  not  bow  ; 
 
 But  the  unsounded  depths  of  truth 
 
 Fed  the  glad  fountains  of  his  youth. 
 
 Within  his  soul  he  bore 
 
 God's  undisputed  sign  ; 
 His  seal  upon  his  brow  he  wore, 
 
 Mysterious,  yet  divine. 
 Angels  of  spotless  purity 
 Left  their  bright  homes  his  guard  to  be. 
 
 The  blind  received  their  sight 
 At  his  commanding  word  ; 
 
 Guided  by  truth's  celestial  light. 
 The  soul's  far  depths  he  stirred. 
 
 The  earth  gave  back  its  icy  dead  ; 
 
 Disease  his  mandate  heard,  and  fled. 
 
MARY  WHITWELL  HALE,  2/Q 
 
 Saviour  !  be  thou  my  guide, 
 
 My  refuge  and  my  rest  ! 
 Cast  down  the  pillars  of  my  pride, 
 
 And  in  my  humble  breast 
 Erect  the  temple  of  thy  grace  ; 
 And  on  its  shrine  thy  signet  trace. 
 
 THE   VOICE    OF   THE    FLOWERS. 
 
 A    SWEET  and  blessed  strain  they  swell, 
 
 The  glorious-tinted  flowers, 
 On  sunny  slope,  in  shaded  dell, 
 To  cheer  our  weary  hours. 
 
 Their  fragrant  odors  rise  to  heaven 
 
 In  homage  and  in  prayer : 
 Silent  the  dewy  incense  given, 
 
 Yet  God  is  hallowed  there. 
 
 Bring  them  to  strew  around  your  dead, 
 
 To  shine  above  their  tomb  : 
 Bright  presage  from  their  hues  is  shed 
 
 Of  heaven's  immortal  bloom. 
 
 They  woo  us  with  their  balmy  breath 
 
 To  summer  bowers  on  high  ; 
 They  point  us  from  decay  and  death 
 
 To  flowers  which  never  die. 
 
 Praise  to  thee,  Brightener  of  our  hours  ! 
 
 For  this  sweet  ministry. 
 Which,  by  the  breath  of  thy  fair  flowers, 
 
 Is  leading  us  to  thee. 
 
28o  SONGS   OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 We   give  also,  from  Miss  Hale's  volume  of  "Poems,"   two    other 
 hymns  from  which  stanzas  have  been  taken  for  the  Collections. 
 
 SABBATH    HYMN. 
 
 'T^HIS  day  let  grateful  praise  ascend 
 
 To  thee,  our  Father  and  our  Friend ; 
 Thee,  Author  of  this  holy  light, 
 Thee,  throned  in  boundless  power  and  might. 
 
 To  thee  its  morning  light  be  given, 
 The  noontide  blaze,  the  dew  of  even  ; 
 And  may  its  silent  night-watch  be 
 Devoted,  Mighty  One,  to  thee  ! 
 
 Let  no  vain  words  of  homage  rise, 
 An  empty,  heartless  sacrifice  ; 
 Or  clouds  of  breathing  incense  swell, 
 The  pomp  of  human  pride  to  tell. 
 
 The  silent  prayer,  the  contrite  sigh, 
 The  chastened  heart,  the  filial  eye, 
 Shall  rise,  a  holier  gift  to  thee, 
 And  at  thy  throne  accepted  be. 
 
 Oh,  let  the  sacred  hours  be  given 
 To  truth,  to  duty,  and  to  heaven  ; 
 While  trusting  faith  and  holy  love 
 Rise  fervent  to  thy  throne  above. 
 
 Grant  that  our  earthly  Sabbaths  be 
 But  dawnings  of  eternity, 
 To  shadow  forth  that  glorious  rest, 
 The  heavenly  quiet  of  the  blest. 
 
MARY  WHITWELL  HALE.  281 
 
 A    MOTHER'S    COUNSEL. 
 
 "  Whatever  weakens  your  reason,  impairs  the  tenderness  of  your  conscience,  obscures 
 your  sense  of  God,  or  takes  off  the  relish  of  spiritual  things  ;  in  short,  whatever  increases 
 the  strength  and  authority  of  your  body  over  your  mind,  that  thing  is  siu  to  you,  however 
 innocent  it  may  be  in  itself.''  —  The  Mother  of  John  Wesley. 
 
 T17HATEVER  dims  thy  sense  of  truth, 
 
 Or  stains  thy  purity, 
 Though  light  as  breath  of  summer  air, 
 Count  it  as  sin  to  thee. 
 
 Let  not  the  world  thy  God  dethrone, 
 
 Or  from  his  smile  divide  ; 
 And  count,  compared  with  heavenly  wealth, 
 
 As  dross  all  things  beside. 
 
 Dim  not  the  crystal  of  thy  soul 
 
 By  sin's  destroying  breath.: 
 There  lurks  beneath  its  siren  smile 
 
 Dark  treachery  and  death. 
 
 Preserve  the  tablets  of  thy  thoughts 
 
 From  every  blemish  free, 
 While  the  Redeemer's  lowly  faith 
 
 Its  temple  makes  with  thee. 
 
 And  pray  of  God  that  grace  be  given 
 
 To  tread  time's  narrow  way  ; 
 How  dark  soever  it  may  be, 
 
 It  leads  to  cloudless  day. 
 
 CHRISTMAS. 
 
 The  following  two  hymns  are  not  in  the  "  Poems,"  but  are  taken  from  the  Cheshire 
 
 Collection. 
 
 VX7HEX  in  silence,  o'er  the  deep, 
 
 Darkness  kept  its  deathlike  sleep; 
 Soon  as  God  his  mandate  spoke, 
 Light  in  wondrous  beauty  broke. 
 
282  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 But  a  beam  of  holier  light 
 Gilded  Bethlehem's  lonely  night, 
 When  the  glory  of  the  Lord, 
 Mercy's  sunlight,  shone  abroad. 
 
 "  Peace  on  earth,  good-will  to  men," 
 Burst  the  glorious  anthem  then  ; 
 Angels,  bending  from  above, 
 Joined  that  strain  of  holy  love. 
 
 Floating  o'er  the  waves  of  time, 
 Comes  to  us  that  song  sublime, 
 Bearing  to  the  pilgrim's  ear 
 Words  to  soothe,  sustain,  and  cheer. 
 
 For  Creation's  blessed  light, 
 Praise  to  thee,  thou  God  of  Might ! 
 Seraph  strains  thy  name  should  bless 
 For  the  Sun  of  Righteousness  ! 
 
 TEMPERANCE    ANNIVERSARY. 
 
 TDRAISE  for  the  glorious  light 
 
 Which  crowns  this  joyous  day  ; 
 Whose  beams  dispel  the  shades  of  night, 
 And  wake  our  grateful  lay  ! 
 
 Praise  for  the  mighty  band, 
 Redeemed  from  error's  chain, 
 
 Whose  echoing  voices,  through  our  land, 
 Join  our  triumphant  strain  ! 
 
 Ours  is  no  conquest  gained 
 
 Upon  the  tented  field  ; 
 Nor  hath  the  flowing  life-blood  stained 
 
 The  victor's  helm  and  shield. 
 
JAMES  FREEMAN  CLARKE.  283 
 
 But  the  strong  might  of  love, 
 
 And  truth's  all-pleading  voice, 
 As  angels  bending  from  above, 
 
 Have  made  our  hearts  rejoice. 
 
 Lord  !  upward  to  thy  throne 
 
 The  imploring  voice  we  raise  ; 
 The  might,  the  strength,  are  thine  alone  ! 
 
 Thine  be  our  loftiest  praise. 
 
 JAMES  FREEMAN  CLARKE. 
 
 (1810.) 
 
 Rev.  James  Freeman  Clarke,  D.D.,  was  born  in  Hanover,  N.IL, 
 April  4,  1S10,  and  was  named  for  Rev.  James  Freeman,  D.D.,  who,  as 
 we  have  related  in  the  first  sketch  in  this  volume,  married  Mrs.  Samuel 
 Clarke,  a  grand-parent  of  the  subject  of  this  notice.  The  grandson 
 graduated  at  Harvard  College  in  1829,  and  at  the  Cambridge  Divinity 
 School  in  1833.  He  was  pastor  of  the  Unitarian  Society  in  Louisvill», 
 Ky.,  from  1833  to  1840,  and  was  the  minister  of  the  Church  of  the  Dis- 
 ciples in  Boston,  from  1S41  to  1850.  After  an  interval  of  three  years,  he 
 resumed  the  charge  of  the  latter,  and  has  ever  since  continued  in  that 
 relation.  He  was  Secretary  of  the  American  Unitarian  Association  from 
 1S59  to  1S62,  and  meanwhile  edited  its  organ,  "The  Monthly  Journal." 
 The  degree  of  D.D.  was  conferred  upon  him  by  Harvard  College  in 
 1S63,  and  from  1S67  to  I^7l  ne  was  a  Professor  of  Natural  Theology 
 and  Christian  Doctrine  in  the  Theological  School,  at  Cambridge.  He 
 also  served  for  three  terms  on  the  Board  of  Overseers  of  the  Univer- 
 sity, and  was  for  five  or  sjx  years  a  member  of  the  State  Board  of 
 Education. 
 
 Dr.  Clarke  is  the  author  of  a  large  number  of  important  works,  not  a 
 few  of  which  have  passed  through  several  editions,  and  have  exerted 
 a  wide  and  powerful  influence  in  moulding  the  theological  views  and 
 opinions  of  the  day.  His  literary  career  began  as  long  ago  as  1836,  when 
 he  took  charge  of  the  "  Western  Messenger,"  at  Louisville,  and  con- 
 tinued to  edit  it  for  three  years.  He  translated  De  Wette's  "Theo- 
 dore," in  two  volumes,  for  Ripley's  "Specimens  of  Foreign  Literature," 
 1840.  He  published  his  "Campaign  of  1812,"  in  the  "Life  and  Mili- 
 tary Services  of  General  William  Hull,"  in  1848;  "Eleven  Weeks  in 
 Europe,"  in  1S51 ;  "Christian  Doctrine  of  Forgiveness,"  1852  ;  in  con- 
 
284  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 nection  with  Ralph  Waldo  Emerson  and  William  Henry  Channing,  the 
 "  Memoirs  of  Margaret  Fuller  Ossoli,"  1852  ;  "  Christian  Doctrine  of 
 Prayer,"  1854  (enlarged  edition,  1856)  ;  "The  Hour  which  Cometh,"  a 
 volume  of  sermons,  1864  ;  "  Orthodoxy  :  its  Truths  and  Errors,"  1866  ; 
 "Steps  of  Belief,"  1870  ;  "Ten  Great  Religions,"  187 1 ;  and  "Common 
 Sense  in  Religion,"  1873. 
 
 He  has  also  contributed  largely  for  the  last  thirty  or  forty  years  to  all 
 the  denominational,  and  to  many  of  the  literary  and  secular  magazines 
 or  journals.  Among  his  contributions  to  the  "Christian  Examiner," 
 may  be  mentioned  his  articles  on  "  Fourierism,"  "The  Doctrine  of  the 
 Atonement,"  "Joan  of  Arc,"  "Orestes  A.  Brownson,"  "  Furness's  Life 
 of  Jesus,"  "  Polemics  and  Irenics,"  and  reviews  of  Nehemiah  Adams, 
 President  Lord,  and  Bishop  Hopkins,  on  Slavery,  and  of  Henry  James, 
 Buckle,  Carlyle,  Bushnell,  Rousseau,  &c.  Of  other  publications  are  his 
 address  on  the  Ter-Centennial  of  Shakespeare,  1864,  and  a  very  large 
 number  of  discourses  or  sermons,  printed  in  the  papers  or  in  pamphlet 
 form,  upon  subjects  relating  to  Religion,  Reform  movements,  Politics, 
 and  the  War.  Through  all  his  active  life  Dr.  Clarke  has  been  a  prom- 
 inent advocate  of  freedom  and  friend  of  humanity,  and  has  been  distin- 
 guished for  his  broad  and  genial  sympathies  with  sects  and  parties  of  the 
 most  varied  or  antagonistic  views,  while  yet  holding  firmly  to  his  own 
 clear  and  well-defined  opinions.  This  strength  of  conviction  and  catho- 
 licity of  spirit,  taken  in  connection  with  his  large  resources  of  thought 
 and  illustration,  his  keenness  and  cogency  of  argument,  his  ample  range 
 ofr  knowledge  and  inquiry,  and  his  simplicity  and  force  of  expression, 
 have  gained  him  a  commanding  influence  among  men. 
 
 Dr.  Clarke's  hymn-books  have  often  been  remarked  upon  for  their 
 superior  excellence.  His  original  compilation,  entitled  "  Service  Book," 
 was  published  in  1844,  and  was  the  first  introduction  to  Americans  of 
 "  Nearer,  my  God,  to  thee,"  and  other  favorite  hymns  of  Sarah  Flower 
 Adams.  Mrs.  Adams  was  a  worshipper  at  the  Unitarian  Chapel  of  Rev. 
 W.  J.  Fox,  in  London,  and  contributed  these  hymns  to  "a  Collection 
 that  was  made  for  the  use  of  her  own  minister's  congregation.  A  copy 
 of  this  Collection  was  given  to  Dr.  Clarke  by  his  friend  Mr.  Bakewell,  in 
 Pittsburgh,  Pa.,  and  from  it  "  Nearer,  my  G#d,  to  thee,"  found  its  way 
 at  once  into  the  "  Service  Book,"  as  stated  above.  Thence  it  was  taken 
 for  the  "  Plymouth  Collection,"  and  soon  afterwards  was  adopted  by 
 other  compilers,  and  at  length  was  known  throughout  the  country. 
 Perhaps  no  hymn  of  modern  date  has  had  a  more  wonderful  history. 
 Equally  acceptable  to  all  sects  and  denominations,  it  has  already  been 
 translated  into  numerous  languages,  and  is  sung  to  the  tune  of  "  Bethany," 
 not  alone  in  the  churches  of  America  and  England,  but  in  the  countries 
 of  Europe,  and  even  in  the  distant  missionary  establishments  of  the 
 East.  In  the  recent  Temperance  Crusade  in  our  own  land,  it  was  espe- 
 cially this  hymn  that  burst  from  the  hearts  and  lips  of  the  multitudes, 
 and  voiced  their  deepest  sentiments  and  highest  aspirations. 
 
The  Heart  of  Jesus. 
 
 KITTEN    FOK    THE    B08TON    COMMONWEALTH. 
 
 Embalmed  and  closed  in  silver  case 
 
 The  heart  of  Bruce  Lord  Douglas  bore, 
 And  when  the  Panym  round  him  pressed 
 >    He  tossed  the  casket  far  before. 
 "In  life,"  he  cried,  "you  always  led, 
 
 While  Douglas  followed  close  behind ; 
 Go  foremost  still — I'll  cut  my  way 
 
 The  sacred  heart  of  Bruce  to  find." 
 rhe  heart  of  Jesus  !  sacred  heart! 
 
 I'll  follow  wheresoe'er  it  leads  ; 
 Not  dead,  like  Douglas'  heart  of  Bruce; 
 
 For  all  mankind  alike  it  bleeds. 
 No  single  church  in  silver  case 
 
 Enclosed  the  heart  of  Jesus  holds; 
 rhat  generous  heart,  that  loving  heart, 
 
 Humanity  divine  enfolds. 
 Jut  like  the  Douglas  we  must  cut 
 
 Our  way  through  foes  that  heart  to  find, 
 Lnd  feel  that  God  so  loved  this  world 
 
 He  gave  his  heart  for  all  mankind. 
 
 Mauv  Bavard  Clarke. 
 
lence.  "Will  some  one  strike  up  a  nyrnn,' 
 i  asked,  "to  improve  the  time  until  the  ar 
 val  of  the  marriage-party?"     A  good  brothei 
 
 the  audience,  more  accustomed  to  prayer 
 eetings  than  to  such  occasions,  started  of! 
 gorously,  to  the  tune  of  "Ganges,"  just  as  th( 
 :pected  bride  and  bridegroom  entered  th< 
 lurch-door : — 
 
 "Come  on,  my  partners  in  distress, 
 My  comrades  through  the  wilderness, 
 Who  still  your  bodies  feel." 
 he    sensation    was    profound.      The    seconc 
 anza  was  not  called  for. — ZiorCs  Herald. 
 
 LITERARY  NOTES. 
 
 The  demand  for  Thackeray's  works  shows  n< 
 gns  of  abating,  and  the  early  and  rare  edition: 
 e  rapidly  increasing  in  value. 
 The  dynamite  scare  has  given  rise  to  a  nove 
 the  sensational  kind,  which  has  just  beei 
 iblished  in  London,  under  the  title  "1885." 
 A  volume  of  the  last  writings  of  the  late  Mrs 
 ary  Clemmer-Hudson  is  in  preparation  unde 
 e  editorship  of  her  husband,  Mr.  Edmum 
 udson  of  Washington. 
 
 Messrs.  Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Co.  have  begui 
 icationof^^newseries  of  choice  book 
 
JAMES  FREEMAN  CLARKE.  2S5 
 
 A  revised  and  enlarged  edition  of  Dr.  Clarke's  "Service  Book"  was 
 published  in  1852,  under  the  title  of  "Disciples'  Hymn- Book,"  a  marked 
 feature  of  which  was  the  presence  of  not  less  than  twenty-eight  of  the 
 hymns  of  another  gifted  English  writer  of  sacred  songs,  Thomas  Horn- 
 blower  ('.ill,  eight  of  them  having  been  previously  introduced  into  Hedge 
 and  Huntington's  Collection.  In  Dr.  Clarke's  books  are  some  very 
 fine,  noble  hymns  of  his  own,  which  we  here  copy,  together  with  several 
 others  by  him  from  (iriswold's  "  Poets  of  America."  The  first  three  are 
 taken  from  Griswold,  and  those  which  follow  from  the  edition  of  Dr. 
 Clarke's  Hymn-Book,  published  in  1S52. 
 
 HYMN    AND    PRAYER. 
 
 TNFINITE  Spirit!  who  art  round  us  ever, 
 
 In  whom  we  float,  as  motes  in  summer  sky, 
 May  neither  life  nor  death  the  sweet  bond  sever, 
 Which  joins  us  to  our  unseen  Friend  on  high. 
 
 Unseen,  —  yet  not  unfelt,  —  if  any  thought 
 
 Has  raised  our  mind  from  earth,  or  pure  desire, 
 
 A  generous  act,  or  noble  purpose  brought, 
 It  is  thy  breath,  O  Lord,  which  fans  the  fire. 
 
 To  me  the  meanest  of  thy  creatures,  kneeling, 
 
 Conscious  of  weakness,  ignorance,  sin,  and  shame, 
 
 Give  such  a  force  of  holy  thought  and  feeling, 
 That  I  may  live  to  glorify  thy  name  ; 
 
 That  I  may  conquer  base  desire  and  passion, 
 That  I  may  rise  o'er  selfish  thought  and  will, 
 
 O'ercome  the  world's  allurement,  threat,  and  fashion, 
 Walk  humbly,  softly,  leaning  on  thee  still. 
 
 I  am  unworthy.     Yet,  for  their  dear  sake 
 I  ask,  whose  roots  planted  in  me  are  found  ; 
 
 For  precious  vines  are  propped  by  rudest  stake, 
 And  heavenly  roses  fed  in  darkest  ground. 
 
 Beneath  my  leaves,  though  early  fallen  and  faded, 
 
 Young  plants  are  warmed,  —  they  drink  my  branches'  dew 
 
 Let  them  not,  Lord,  by  me  be  Upas-shaded ; 
 
 Make  me,  for  their  sake,  firm,  and  pure,  and  true. 
 
286  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 For  their  sake,  too,  the  faithful,  wise,  and  bold, 
 Whose  generous  love  has  been  my  pride  and  stay, 
 
 Those  who  have  found  in  me  some  trace  of  gold, 
 For  their  sake  purify  my  lead  and  clay. 
 
 And  let  not  all  the  pains  and  toil  be  wasted, 
 Spent  on  my  youth  by  saints  now  gone  to  rest ; 
 
 Nor  that  deep  sorrow  my  Redeemer  tasted, 
 
 When  on  his  soul  the  guilt  of  man  was  pressed. 
 
 Tender  and  sensitive,  he  braved  the  storm, 
 
 That  we  might  fly  a  well-deserved  fate, 
 Poured  out  his  soul  in  supplication  warm, 
 
 With  eyes  of  love  looked  into  eyes  of  hate. 
 
 Let  all  this  goodness  by  my  mind  be  seen, 
 Let  all  this  mercy  on  my  heart  be  sealed ! 
 
 Lord,  if  thou  wilt,  thy  power  can  make  me  clean : 
 O,  speak  the  word,  —  thy  servant  shall  be  healed. 
 
 JACOB'S   WELL. 
 
 Suggested  by  a  sketch  of  Jacob's  well,  and  Mt.  Gerizim. 
 
 TLTERE,  after  Jacob  parted  from  his  brother, 
 
 His  daughters  lingered  round  this  well,  new  made ; 
 Here,  seventeen  centuries  after,  came  another, 
 
 And  talked  with  Jesus,  wondering  and  afraid. 
 Here,  other  centuries  past,  the  emperor's  mother 
 
 Sheltered  its  waters  with  a  temple's  shade. 
 Here,  'mid  the  fallen  fragments,  as  of  old, 
 The  girl  her  pitcher  dips  within  its  waters  cold. 
 
 And  Jacob's  race  grew  strong  for  many  an  hour, 
 Then  torn  beneath  the  Roman  eagle  lay ; 
 
 The  Roman's  vast  and  earth-controlling  power 
 
 Has  crumbled,  like  these  shafts  and  stones,  away ; 
 
 But  still  the  waters,  fed  by  dew  and  shower, 
 Come  up,  as  ever,  to  the  light  of  day, 
 
 And  still  the  maid  bends  downward  with  her  urn, 
 
 Well  pleased  to  see  its  glass  her  lovely  face  return. 
 
JAMES  FREEMAN  CLARKE.  287 
 
 And  those  few  words  of  truth,  first  uttered  here, 
 Have  sunk  into  the  human  soul  and  heart  \ 
 
 A  spiritual  faith  dawns  bright  and  clear, 
 Dark  creeds  and  ancient  mysteries  depart; 
 
 The  hour  for  God's  true  worshippers  draws  near ; 
 Then  mourn  not  o'er  the  wrecks  of  earthly  art : 
 
 Kingdoms  may  fall,  and  human  works  decay, 
 
 Nature  moves  on  unchanged,  Truths  never  pass  away. 
 
 THE   VIOLET. 
 
 Written  for  a  little  girl  to  speak  on  May-Day,  in  the  character  of  the  Violet. 
 
 TT7HEN  April's  warmth  unlocks  the  clod, 
 
 Softened  by  gentle  showers, 
 The  violet  pierces  through  the  sod, 
 
 And  blossoms,  first  of  flowers  ; 
 So  may  I  give  my  heart  to  God 
 
 In  childhood's  early  hours. 
 
 Some  plants,  in  gardens  only  found, 
 
 Are  raised  with  pains  and  care  : 
 God  scatters  violets  all  around, 
 
 They  blossom  everywhere ; 
 Thus  may  my  love  to  all  abound, 
 
 And  all  my  fragrance  share. 
 
 Some  scentless  flowers  stand  straight  and  high, 
 
 With  pride  and  haughtiness: 
 But  violets  perfume  land  and  sky, 
 
 Although  they  promise  less. 
 Let  me,  with  all  humility, 
 
 Do  more  than  I  profess. 
 
 Sweet  flower,  be  thou  a  type  to  me 
 
 Of  blameless  joy  and  mirth, 
 Of  widely  scattered  sympathy, 
 
 Embracing  all  God's  earth,  — 
 Of  early-blooming  piety, 
 
 And  unpretending  worth. 
 
288  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL   FAITH. 
 
 THE    PRODIGAL. 
 
 "DROTHER,  hast  thou  wandered  far 
 
 From  thy  Father's  happy  home, 
 With  thyself  and  God  at  war  ? 
 
 Turn  thee,  brother,  homeward  come  ! 
 
 Hast  thou  wasted  all  the  powers 
 
 God  for  noble  uses  gave  ? 
 Squandered  life's  most  golden  hours  ? 
 
 Turn  thee,  brother,  God  can  save  ! 
 
 Is  a  mighty  famine  now 
 
 In  thy  heart  and  in  thy  soul  ? 
 
 Discontent  upon  thy  brow  ? 
 
 Turn  thee,  God  will  make  thee  whole ! 
 
 Fall  before  him  on  the  ground, 
 
 Pour  thy  sorrow  in  his  ear  ; 
 Seek  him,  for  he  may  be  found  ; 
 
 Call  upon  him  ;  He  is  near. 
 
 BAPTISM    OF    A  CHILD. 
 
 'HPO  thee,  O  God  in  heaven, 
 This  little  one  we  bring, 
 Giving  to  thee  what  thou  hast  given, 
 Our  dearest  offering. 
 
 Into  a  world  of  toil 
 
 These  little  feet  will  roam, 
 Where  sin  its  purity  may  soil, 
 
 Where  care  and  grief  may  come. 
 
 O,  then,  let  thy  pure  love, 
 
 With  influence  serene, 
 Come  down,  like  water,  from  above, 
 
 To  comfort  and  make  clean. 
 
JAMES  FREEMAN  CLARKE.  289 
 
 BAPTISM    OF   CHILDREN. 
 
 HPO  him  who  children  blessed, 
 
 And  suffered  them  to  come, 
 To  him  who  took  them  to  his  breast, 
 We  bring  these  children  home. 
 
 To  thee,  O  God,  whose  face 
 
 Their  spirits  still  behold, 
 We  bring  them,  praying  that  thy  grace 
 
 May  keep,  thine  arms  enfold. 
 
 And  as  this  water  falls 
 
 On  each  unconscious  brow, 
 Thy  holy  Spirit  grant,  O  Lord  ! 
 
 To  keep  them  pure  as  now. 
 
 FEAST    OF    THE    REFORMATION. 
 
 This  hymn,  as  it  was  sung  at  the  Collation  given  by  the  Unitarians  of  New  York  and 
 Brooklyn  to  the  members  of  the  Convention  assembled  in  the  former  city,  Oct.  22,  1845, 
 had  two  additional  stanzas,  not  printed  here. 
 
 "POR  all  thy  gifts  we  praise  thee,  Lord, 
 With  lifted  song  and  bended  knee  ; 
 But  now  our  thanks  are  chiefly  poured 
 For  those  who  taught  us  to  be  free. 
 
 For  when  the  soul  lay  bound  below 
 
 A  heavy  yoke  of  forms  and  creeds, 
 And  none  thy  word  of  truth  could  know, 
 
 O'ergrown  with  tares  and  choked  with  weeds, 
 
 Thy  strength,  O  Lord,  in  that  dark  night, 
 By  mouths  of  babes  thou  didst  ordain  ; 
 
 And  thy  free  truth  went  forth  with  might, 
 Not  empty  to  return  again. 
 
 The  monarch's  sword,  the  prelate's  pride, 
 The  Church's  curse,  the  empire's  ban, 
 
 By  one  poor  monk  were  all  defied, 
 Who  never  feared  the  face  of  man. 
 '9 
 
290  SONGS   OF   THE  LIBERAL   FAITH. 
 
 Half-battles  were  the  words  he  said, 
 Each  born  of  prayer,  baptized  in  tears 
 
 And,  routed  by  them,  backward  fled 
 The  errors  of  a  thousand  years. 
 
 With  lifted  song  and  bended  knee, 
 
 For  all  thy  gifts  we  praise  thee,  Lord  ; 
 
 But  chief  for  those  who  made  us  free, 
 The  champions  of  thy  holy  word. 
 
 ORDAINING   A    WESTERN    MISSIONARY 
 
 "\17HERE,  for  a  thousand  miles, 
 The  sweet  Ohio  smiles 
 
 On  bed  of  sand  ; 
 Where  prairies  blossom  broad, 
 Fair  gardens  sown  by  God, 
 And  lakes  their  ocean-flood 
 
 Pour  from  his  hand  ; 
 
 Where  sleep,  in  rest  profound, 
 Beneath  each  ancient  mound, 
 
 A  buried  race  ; 
 There,  brother,  go  and  teach  ; 
 From  heart  to  heart  shall  reach 
 Thy  free  and  earnest  speech 
 
 Of  heavenly  grace. 
 
 Where  the  tall  forest  waves 
 Above  those  mouldering  graves, 
 
 God's  truth  declare  ; 
 While  his  "  first  temples  "  spread 
 Their  arches  o'er  thy  head, 
 Lift  o'er  the  slumbering  dead 
 
 The  voice  of  prayer. 
 
 While  rolls  the  living  tide 
 Down  Alleghany's  side 
 Its  ceaseles.s  flood  ; 
 
JAMES  FREEMAN  CLARKE.  2QI 
 
 Upon  the  mountains,  there, 
 How  beautiful  appear 
 The  feet  of  those  who  bear 
 Tidings  of  good. 
 
 O  Thou,  whose  suns  and  rains 
 Upon  those  mighty  plains 
 
 Fall  evermore  ! 
 Send  down  the  dews  of  peace, 
 The  Sun  of  Righteousness, 
 And  let  thy  light  increase 
 
 From  shore  to  shore  ! 
 
 CANA. 
 
 T^EAR  Friend!  whose  presence  in  the  house. 
 
 Whose  gracious  word  benign, 
 Could  once,  at  Cana's  wedding-feast, 
 Change  water  into  wine,  — 
 
 Come  visit  us,  and  when  dull  work 
 
 Grows  weary,  line  on  line, 
 Revive  our  souls,  and  make  us  see 
 
 Life's  water  glow  as  wine. 
 
 Gay  mirth  shall  deepen  into  joy, 
 
 Earth's  hopes  shall  grow  divine, 
 When  Jesus  visits  us,  to  turn 
 
 Life's  water  into  wine. 
 
 The  social  talk,  the  evening  fire, 
 
 The  homely  household  shrine, 
 Shall  glow  with  angel-visits  when 
 
 The  Lord  pours  out  the  wine. 
 
 For  when  self-seeking  turns  to  love, 
 Which  knows  not  mine  and  thine, 
 
 The  miracle  again  is  wrought, 
 And  water  changed  to  wine. 
 
292  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL   FAITH. 
 
 IN    SPIRIT   AND    TRUTH. 
 
 /^MVE  me,  my  God,  to  feel  thee  in  my  joy, 
 
 So  shall  my  joy  to  love  ennobled  be ; 
 Give  me  to  feel  thee  in  this  slight  annoy, 
 
 Which  turns  to  hope  through  that  fine  alchemy. 
 
 Give  me,  within  the  work  which  calls  to-day, 
 To  see  thy  finger  gently  beckoning  on  ; 
 
 So  struggle  grows  to  freedom,  work  to  play, 
 And  toils  begun  from  thee  to  thee  are  done. 
 
 The  timely  flower  from  earth's  low  tree  may  fall,  - 
 The  human  wish  may  in  the  heart  expire  ' 
 
 But  from  the  blossom  God  the  fruit  shall  call, 
 And  heavenly  love  infer  from  earth's  desire. 
 
 I  lay  each  humblest  hope  within  my  prayer; 
 
 To  thee  no  high  seraphic  aims  I  bring ; 
 My  daily  bread,  rest,  strength  for  common  care,  — 
 
 Yet  all  is  truth  within  my  offering. 
 
 But  God  demands  both  spirit,  truth,  and  faith, 
 To  lit  earth's  tones  for  his  immortal  clime, 
 
 And  Christ,  in 'his  o'ercoming  life  and  death, 
 Hath  given  the  fulness  of  his  faith  sublime. 
 
 So  what  remains  to  sanctify  my  prayer, 
 
 If  I  bring  truth,  and  Christ  his  faith  impart? 
 
 Thou  Spirit,  born  of  whom  all  spirits  are, 
 With  thine  essential  nature  feed  my  heart. 
 
 Then,  God,  whose  fire  forms  rubies  out  of  clay, 
 And  bids  dull  charcoal  into  diamonds  burn,  — 
 
 Add  thou  the  grace,  while  in  the  truth  I  pray, 
 And  this  poor  earth-sob  into  music  turn. 
 
JAMES  FREEMAN  CLARKE.  293 
 
 NEW    HEAVENS   AND    NEW   EARTH. 
 
 "VTEW  heavens  I   new  earth!  where  are  ye?     Evermore 
 
 Cold  skies,  hard  land,  oppress  the  weary  heart; 
 0  seer,  who  gazed  from  Patmos'  island-shore 
 Into  the  future,  when  shall  these  depart? 
 
 Earth,  in  her  circular  path  among  the  stars, 
 Bears  the  same  burden  still  of  sin  and  woe  ; 
 
 And  through  an  orbit  of  recurring  wars 
 The  disunited  church  must  falter  slow. 
 
 O,  for  new  heavens  !  new  light  our  minds  to  lead. 
 New  strength  from  God  to  nerve  the  palsied  arm, 
 
 New  life  from  Christ  to  animate  our  dead, 
 
 New  love  our  souls  to  enlarge,  our  hearts  to  warm. 
 
 Must  we  for  ever  tread  this  barren  way  ? 
 
 Repeat  the  fruitless  round  of  old  routine, 
 Where  no  new  dawn  proclaims  the  advancing  day, 
 
 No  tender  spring  clothes  earth  anew  with  green  ? 
 
 Believe  we  rather  in  the  coming  sw^eet 
 
 Of  Christ  on  earth,  the  living  Christ,  to  reign, — 
 
 When  saints,  by  creeds  divided  now,  shall  meet, 
 And  his  one  church,  all  churches  shall  contain. 
 
 The  lofty  portals  of  these  heavens  expand, 
 
 The  everlasting  doors  are  lifted  high  ; 
 And  troops  of  angels  at  the  gateway  stand, 
 
 To  welcome  in  redeemed  humanity. 
 
 How  long,  dear  Mother  !   holy  Church,  how  long  '. 
 
 From  Austrian  prison,  Alabama's  shore, 
 The  oppressed,  with  fainting  hearts,  their  cries  prolong 
 
 Come,  city  of  our  God,  nor  leave  us  more  I 
 
 CLOSING   ASPIRATION. 
 
 /^  THOU,  by  God  ordained  to  lead  the  race 
 
 In  mighty  march  and  grand  procession  on  ; 
 Kin^,  Prophet,  Saviour,  —  show  thy  human  face, 
 And  let  us  know  thee  as  ourselves  are  known. 
 
294  SONGS  OF   THE  LIBERAL   FAITH. 
 
 Come,  Prophet,  teach  the  world.     Thy  solid  truth 
 Alone  this  doubt  can  cure,  can  light  this  gloom, 
 
 Make  real  that  unseen  world's  undying  youth, 
 Which  turns  to  dreams  the  terrors  of  the  tomb. 
 
 Come,  King,  and  reign  o'er  those  who  yearn  to  prove 
 Life's  task  full-matched  with  their  strong  souls'  desire ; 
 
 Who  long  for  work  deserving  human  love,  — 
 Not  to  live  idly,  not  unwept  expire. 
 
 Come,  Saviour  ;  in  our  sin  and  need  and  pain, 
 Treading  the  path  where  thy  dear  feet  have  gone, 
 
 Help  us  through  thy  full  life  to  live  again,  — 
 
 And  be,  through  thy  deep  peace,  with  God  at  one. 
 
 THEODORE    PARKER. 
 
 (1810-1860.) 
 
 Theodore  Parker  was  born  in  Lexington,  Mass.,  Aug.  24,  1810,  and 
 was  the  youngest  of  eleven  children  of  John  Parker  and  Hannah  (Stearns) 
 Parker.  The  first  of  his  ancestors  in  this  country  was  Thomas  Parker, 
 who  came  from  England  in  1635,  and  settled  in  Lynn,  Mass.,  but  a  few 
 years  later  removed  to  Reading,  where  he  died,  in  1683.  The  grand- 
 father of  Theodore  was  Captain  John  Parker,  who  commanded  a  com- 
 pany of  the  militia  in  the  battle  of  Lexington,  April  19,  1775.  The 
 father  was  a  farmer  and  mechanic,  and  the  son  early  learned  to  work  in 
 the  shop  and  to  till  the  soil.  His  early  education  was  in  the  district 
 school,  and,  at  seventeen  years  of  age,  began  himself  to  teach  during  the 
 winter  seasons.  He  entered  Harvard  College  in  1830,  but  remained  at 
 home,  where  he  pursued  the  regular  course  or*  study,  and  extended  his 
 acquisitions  far  beyond  the  limits  prescribed  for  his  class,  gaining  some 
 means  of  support  by  giving  private  instruction,  and  going  down  to  Cam- 
 bridge to  pass  examination  as  occasion  required.  In  consequence  of  his 
 stay  at  Lexington  during  his  academic  life,  he  could  not  take  the  degree 
 of  A.B.,  but  he  received  from  the  college  that  of  A.M.  in  1840.  He 
 entered  the  Middle  Class  of  the  Divinity  School  in  1834,  and  during  his 
 connection  with  that  institution  was  one  of  the  editors  of  the  "  Scriptu- 
 ral Interpreter,"  a  magazine  conducted  by  the  students.  Graduating  in 
 1836,  he  preached  at  various  places  in  Massachusetts  in  the  autumn  and 
 winter  of  that  year,  and  was  ordained  as  the  pastor  of  the  Unitarian 
 Church  in  West  Roxbury,  June  21,  1837. 
 
THEODORE  PARKER.  295 
 
 The  important  change  which  took  place  in  his  theological  views  while 
 he  was  minister  at  West  Roxbury,  and  which  occasioned  much  contro- 
 versy in  Unitarian  circles,  was  especially  indicated  in  a  famous  discourse 
 on  "The  Transient  and  the  Permanent  in  Christianity,"  delivered  at  the 
 ordination  of  Rev.  C.  C.  Shackford  at  South  Boston,  May  19,  1841,  and 
 in  two  courses  of  lectures  which  he  gave  in  Boston  and  elsewhere  in 
 1S41,  1S42,  1843.  In  September,  1S43,  he  went  abroad,  and  travelled  in 
 England,  France,  Italy,  and  Germany,  returning  home  in  the  summer  of 
 the  following  year.  Urged  to  become  the  minister  of  a  new  society  in 
 Boston,  he  was  installed  as  its  pastor  Jan.  4,  1S46,  and  continued  his 
 labors  in  connection  with  it  until  disabled  by  his  final  sickness,  his  con- 
 gregation worshipping  at  first  at  the  Melodeon  and  afterward  at  the 
 Music  Hall.  He  preached  to  the  largest  Sunday  audience  in  the  city; 
 lectured,  often  each  winter,  before  lyceums  to  crowded  houses  in  different 
 parts  of  the  country  ;  took  a  very  conspicuous  part  in  the  Anti-slavery 
 Cause  and  in  many  other  great  reforms  ;  and,  by  his  utterances  and  writ- 
 ings, made  his  influence  powerfully  felt  in  all  the  great  departments  of 
 Literature,  Politics,  Philanthropy,  and  Religion.  An  attack  of  bleeding 
 at  the  lungs  obliged  him  to  desist  from  his  herculean  labors  in  January, 
 1859.  The  next  month  he  sailed  for  Santa  Cruz,  and  thence  to  Europe. 
 He  spent  some  time  in  Switzerland,  and  then  went  to  Rome,  where  he 
 passed  his  last  winter.  He  repaired  to  Florence  in  April,  reaching  the 
 city  in  a  very  enfeebled  condition.  He  died  there  a  few  weeks  afterward, 
 May  10,  1S60,  and  was  buried  in  the  cemetery,  outside  the  walls,  Rev. 
 Mr.  Cunningham,  an  old  friend,  conducting  the  funeral  service.  It  is 
 thought  that  this  brief  epitome  of  his  history  may  not  be  without  its  use 
 for  reference,  however  well  known  his  story  may  be  to  the  public,  —  a 
 story  which  has  been  made  more  familiar  to  it,  in  elaborate  detail,  by  the 
 extensive  and  interesting  biographies  of  him  written  by  Rev.  Messrs. 
 Weiss  and  Frothingham. 
 
 It  remains,  however,  to  make  some  mention  of  his  more  noteworthy 
 or  celebrated  theological,  literary,  and  political  writings.  In  1843  aP* 
 peared  his  translation  of  I)e  Wette's  "  Introduction  to  the  Old  Testa- 
 ment," and  a  volume  of  his  "Miscellaneous  Writings."  In  December, 
 1847,  he  began  a  three  years'  editorial  charge  of  the  "  Massachusetts 
 Quarterly,"  among  his  own  contributions  to  which  were  papers  on  Em- 
 erson, Channing,  and  Prescott.  He  published  a  volume,  entitled  "A 
 Discourse  of  Matters  pertaining  to  Religion,"  in  1849  '-  "Occasional  Ser- 
 mons and  Speeches,"  in  two  volumes.  1S52  ;  "Ten  Sermons  on  Religion," 
 Ic^53  »  "  Sermons  on  Theism,  Atheism,  and  the  Popular  Theology," 
 1853;  "Additional  Speeches,  Addresses,  &c,"  1855;  "Trial  of  Theo- 
 dore Parker  for  the  'Misdemeanor  of  a  Speech  in  Faneuil  Hall  against 
 Kidnapping,'"  1855  ;  "Two  Christmas  Celebrations,"  and  "Experience 
 as  a  Minister,"  1S59.  Of  his  numerous  pamphlet  discourses,  the  most 
 remarkable  one  was,  perhaps,  that  which  was  occasioned  by  the  death 
 of  Daniel  Webster.     Four  lectures,  which  he  wrote  upon  Washington, 
 
296  SONGS   OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 Adams,  Jefferson,  and  Franklin,  were  published  in  a  volume,  under  the 
 title  of  "  Historic  Americans,"  in  1870,  and  edited  by  Rev.  O.  B.  Froth- 
 ingham.  Mr.  Parker's  works  have  been  republished  and  widely  read  in 
 England,  and  have  been  largely  translated  into  other  languages  for  cir- 
 culation in  other  European  countries.  No  one  can  doubt  the  immense 
 influence  which  he  has  exerted  by  his  vigorous  thought,  his  vast  learning, 
 his  pithy  and  telling  style,  and  his  intense  and  unabated  zeal,  upon  the 
 mind  of  the  age  ;  while,  however  men  may  dissent  from  many  of  his 
 theological  views,  it  will  be  remembered  to  his  eternal  honor,  that,  a 
 Puritan  of  Puritans  in  his  faith  in  God  and  in  his  strictness  of  moral 
 character,  he  was  the  stalwart  and  ever-faithful  friend  of  wronged  and 
 oppressed  humanity  ;  rained  down  blows,  thick  and  fast,  upon  every 
 giant  sin  or  evil  of  his  day ;  and,  at  a  time  when  most  Christian  pulpits 
 were  deaf  and  dumb  to  the  demands  of  the  hour,  "  preached  righteous- 
 ness in  the  great  congregation." 
 
 Mr.  Parker  was  keenly  alive  to  the  charms  of  poetry,  and  not  seldom 
 indulged  his  muse,  not  without  success,  in  original  compositions,  as  well 
 as  in  translations  from  bards  of  other  languages.  "  His  pen  ran  readily 
 to  rhyme,"  says  Mr.  Weiss.  Strewn  through  the  biographies  of  him  are 
 numerous  pieces,  sometimes  playful  and  sometimes  serious,  which  he 
 wrote  when  the  mood  was  upon  him.  Some  of  these  we  copy  from  the 
 works  just  referred  to.  The  Sonnets  to  Jesus  are  particularly  beautiful, 
 though  it  may  be  remarked  that  they  were  written  before  he  changed  his 
 religious  opinions.  The  first  hymn  we  give  is  taken  from  an  old  printed 
 Order  of  Service. 
 
 DEDICATION    HYMN. 
 
 Written  for  the  dedication  of  the  new  church  erected  by  the  Congregational  Society  in 
 Watertown,  Sept.  7,  1836. 
 
 H^HE  humble  pile  our  fathers  raised 
 
 Has  bowed  beneath  Time's  mighty  hand ; 
 They  too  have  gone  whose  voices  praised 
 Jehovah  in  a  savage  land. 
 
 And  now,  O  Lord,  we  build  again, 
 
 To  seek  thy  favor  and  thy  face, 
 Another  and  a  nobler  fane, 
 
 And  ask  thy  blessing  on  this  place. 
 
 Here  send  thy  Holy  Spirit  down, 
 With  favors  from  thy  throne  above, 
 
 Our  hearts  to  fill,  our  lives  to  crown  :  — 
 O  give  us  Faith,  and  Hope,  and  Love. 
 
THEODORE   PARKER.  297 
 
 And  may  there  dwell  within  this  place 
 
 Each  pure  desire  and  holy  trust, 
 To  fill  our  souls  with  heavenly  grai  e. 
 
 When  these  walls  crumble  to  the  dust. 
 
 EVENING. 
 
 Written  while  the  author  was  a  member  of  the  Divinity  School.     From  Weiss' s  "  Life 
 and  Correspondence." 
 
 "LTOYV  sweetly  from  the  western  sky, 
 
 Day's  lingering  colors  fade  ! 
 How  changing  features  softly  vie,  — 
 Shade  deepening  into  shade  ! 
 
 How  softly  comes  the  grateful  calm 
 
 Which  mellow  evening  brings  ! 
 The  sweets  of  flowers,  the  breath  of  balm, 
 
 Float  on  the  zephyr's  wings  ! 
 
 How  soft  that  wandering  cloud  appears, 
 
 As  the  last  tinge  of  day 
 Crimsons  the  peak  it  proudly  rears, 
 
 Then  slowly  dies  away  ! 
 
 Now  stars  come  forth,  and  one  by  one 
 
 In  the  broad  field  of  night, 
 Who  veiled  their  face  before  the  sun, 
 
 Now  pour  emboldened  light. 
 
 ( >h  !   night  and  stars,  your  voice  I  hear 
 
 Swell  round  the  listening  pole  : 
 Your  hymns  are  praises,  loud  and  clear, 
 
 Are  music  to  my  soul. 
 
 Sing  on,  sing  on,  celestial  hand 
 
 Till  earth  repeats  your  Li 
 Till  the  wide  sea,  the  sky,  the  land, 
 
 Shall  celebrate  His  pr. 
 
298         songs  of  the  liberal  faith. 
 
 JESUS. 
 
 Written  in  the  winter  of  1836.     From  Weiss's  "  Life  and  Correspondence."' 
 
 TESUS,  there  is  no  clearer  name  than  thine, 
 
 Which  Time  has  blazoned  on  his  mighty  scroll; 
 No  wreaths  nor  garlands  ever  did  entwine 
 So  fair  a  temple  of  so  vast  a  soul. 
 
 There  every  virtue  set  his  triumph-seal ; 
 
 Wisdom,  conjoined  with  strength  and  radiant  grace, 
 In  a  sweet  copy  Heaven  to  reveal, 
 
 And  stamp  perfection  on  a  mortal  face. 
 
 Once  on  the  earth  wert  thou,  before  men's  eyes, 
 That  did  not  half  thy  beauteous  brightness  see  ; 
 
 E'en  as  the  emmet  does  not  read  the  skies, 
 Nor  our  weak  orbs  look  through  immensity. 
 
 THE   ALMIGHTY   LOVE. 
 
 Introduced  in  a  sermon  which  Mr.  Parker  preached,  entitled  "The  Practical  Effect  of  the 
 Ecclesiastical  Conception  of  God."     From  Weiss's  "  Life  and  Correspondence.'' 
 
 TN  darker  days  and  nights  of  storm, 
 
 Men  knew  thee  but  to  fear  thy  form  ; 
 And  in  the  reddest  lightning  saw 
 Thine  arm  avenge  insulted  law. 
 
 In  brighter  days,  we  read  thy  love 
 In  flowers  beneath,  in  stars  above  ; 
 And  in  the  track  of  every  storm 
 Behold  thy  beauty's  rainbow  form. 
 
 And  in  the  reddest  lightning's  path 
 We  see  no  vestiges  of  wrath, 
 But  always  wisdom,  — perfect  love, 
 From  flowers  beneath  to  stars  above. 
 
 See,  from  on  high  sweet  influence  rains 
 On  palace,  cottage,  mountains,  plains  ; 
 No  hour  of  wrath  shall  mortal  fear, 
 For  their  Almighty  Love  is  here. 
 
 <% 
 
THEODORE  PARKER.  299 
 
 A   PRAYER. 
 
 f~\  THOU  Eternal  One,  may  I  commune 
 
 ^-"^   With  thee,  and  for  a  moment  bathe  my  soul 
 
 In  thy  infinity,  Mother  and  Sire 
 
 Of  all  that  are  ?     In  all  that  is  art  thou  ; 
 
 Being  is  but  by  thee,  of  thee,  in  thee  ; 
 
 Yet  far  thou  readiest  forth  beyond  the  scope 
 
 Of  space  and  time,  or  verge  of  human  thought. 
 
 Transcendent  God  !     Yet,  ever  immanent 
 
 In  all  that  is,  I  flee  to  thee,  and  seek 
 
 Repose  and  soothing  in  my  Mother's  breast. 
 
 0  God,  I  cannot  fear,  for  thou  art  love, 
 And  wheresoe'er  I  grope  I  feel  thy  breath  ! 
 Yea,  in  the  storm  which  wrecks  an  argosy, 
 Or  in  the  surges  of  the  sea  of  men 
 When  empires  perish,  I  behold  thy  face, 
 
 1  hear  thy  voice,  which  gives  the  law  to  all 
 The  furies  of  the  storm,  and  Law  proclaims, 
 
 "  Peace,  troubled  waves,  serve  ye  the  right,  —  be  still !  " 
 
 From  all  this  dusty  world  thou  wilt  not  lose 
 
 A  molecule  of  earth  nor  spark  of  light. 
 
 I  cannot  fear  a  single  flash  of  soul 
 
 Shall  ever  fail,  outcast  from  thee,  forgot. 
 
 Father  and  Mother  of  all  things  that  are, 
 
 I  flee  to  thee,  and  in  thy  arms  find  rest. 
 
 My  God  !  how  shall  I  thank  thee  for  thy  love  ! 
 
 Tears  must  defile  my  sacramental  words, 
 
 And  daily  prayer  be  daily  penitence 
 
 For  actions,  feelings,  thoughts,  which  are  amiss  : 
 
 Yet  will  I  not  say,  "  God  forgive  !  "  for  thou 
 
 Hast  made  the  effect  to  follow  cause,  and  bless 
 
 The  erring,  sinning  man.     Then  let  my  sin 
 
 Continual  find  me  out,  and  make  me  clean 
 
 From  all  transgression,  purified  and  blest ! 
 
300  SONGS   OF   THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 The  following  sonnets  we  copy  from  Mr.  Frothingham's  Life  of  Mr. 
 Parker.     For  convenience,  we  prefix  titles  to  indicate  their  subjects. 
 
 THE   SPIRIT   OF   JESUS. 
 
 T^EAR  Jesus,  were  thy  spirit  now  on  earth, 
 
 Where  thou  hast  toiled  and  wept  a  world  to  win, 
 What  vast  ideas  would  sudden  come  to  birth  ! 
 
 WThat  strong  endeavors  'gainst  o'er-mastering  sin  ! 
 Thy  blest  beatitudes  again  thou'dst  speak ; 
 
 And,  with  deep-hearted  words  that  smite  like  fire, 
 Wouldst  thou  rebuke  the  oppressor  of  the  weak. 
 
 But,  turning  thence  to  prophets  that  aspire, 
 How  wouldst  thou  cheer  the  souls  that  seek  to  save 
 
 Their  brothers  smarting  'neath  a  despot's  rod ; 
 To  lift  the  poor,  the  fallen,  and  the  slave, 
 
 And  lead  them  all  alive  to  worship  God ! 
 Bigots  wouldst  thou  refuse  that  hindering  stand, 
 But  send  thy  gospel-fraught  apostles  conquering  through  the 
 land. 
 
 THE    WAY,    THE    TRUTH,    THE    LIFE. 
 
 This  sonnet,  in  a  slightly  different  form,  is  one  of  the  most  favorite  hymns  in  our  Col- 
 lections, —  the  last  two  lines  being  omitted,  and  the  words,  "  Thee  would  I  sing,"  reading, 
 "  We  look  to  thee." 
 
 r\  THOU  great  Friend  to  all  the  sons  of  men, 
 
 Who  once  appear'dst  in  humblest  guise  below, 
 Sin  to  rebuke,  to  break  the  captive's  chain, 
 
 To  call  thy  brethren  forth  from  want  and  woe  !  — ■ 
 Thee  would  I  sing.     Thy  truth  is  still  the  light 
 
 Which  guides  the  nations  groping  on  their  way, 
 Stumbling  and  falling  in  disastrous  night, 
 
 Yet  hoping  ever  for  the  perfect  day. 
 Yes,  thou  art  still  the  life  ;  thou  art  the  way 
 
 The  holiest  know,  —  light,  life,  and  way  of  heaven  ; 
 And  they  who  clearest  hope  and  deepest  pray 
 
 Toil  by  the  truth,  life,  way  that  thou  hast  given ; 
 And  in  thy  name  aspiring  mortals  trust 
 To  uplift  their  bleeding  brothers  rescued  from  the  dust. 
 
THEODORE  PARKER.  301 
 
 THE   SAVIOUR'S    GOSPEL. 
 
 r\  BROTHER,  who  for  us  didst  meekly  wear 
 ^^^     The  crown  of  thorns  about  thy  radiant  brow  ! 
 What  gospel  from  the  Father  didst  thou  bear, 
 
 Our  hearts  to  cheer,  making  us  happy  now  ? 
 "  'Tis  this  alone, "  the  immortal  Saviour  cries  : 
 
 "  To  fill  thy  heart  with  ever-active  love,  — 
 Love  for  the  wicked  as  in  sin  he  lies, 
 
 Love  for  thy  brother  here,  thy  God  above. 
 Fear  nothing  ill  ;  'twill  vanish  in  its  day: 
 
 Live  for  the  good,  taking  the  ill  thou  must; 
 Toil  with  thy  might  ;  with  manly  labor  pray; 
 
 Living  and  loving,  learn  thy  God  to  trust, 
 And  he  will  shed  upon  thy  soul  the  blessings  of  the  just.' 
 
 THE    HIGHER   GOOD. 
 
 From  Mr.   Parker's  Journal  of  1^49. 
 
 TjWTHER,  I  will  not  ask  for  wealth  or  fame, 
 
 Though  once  they  would  have  joyed  my  carnal  sense 
 I  shudder  not  to  bear  a  hated  name, 
 
 Wanting  all  wealth,  myself  my  sole  defence. 
 But  give  me,  Lord,  eyes  to  behold  the  truth  ; 
 
 A  seeing  sense  that  knows  the  eternal  right ; 
 A  heart  with  pity  filled,  and  gentlest  ruth  ; 
 
 A  manly  faith  that  makes  all  darkness  light : 
 Give  me  the  power  to  labor  for  mankind  ; 
 
 Make  me  the  mouth  of  such  as  cannot  speak  ; 
 Eyes  let  me  be  to  groping  men,  and  blind  ; 
 
 A  conscience  to  the  base  ;  and  to  the  weak 
 Let  me  be  hands  and  feet ;  and  to  the  foolish,  mind  ; 
 And  lead  still  further  on  such  as  thy  kingdom  seek. 
 
302  SONGS   OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 THE    FATHER'S    HAND. 
 
 r  I  ^HROUGH  crooked  paths  thou  hast  conducted  me, 
 
 And  thorns  oft  forced  my  timid  flesh  to  bleed  : 
 Still  I  rejoiced  my  Leader's  hand  to  see, 
 
 Trusting  my  Father  in  my  hour  of  need. 
 When  in  the  darkness  of  my'early  youth, 
 
 Stumbling  and  groping  for  a  better  way, 
 Through  riven  clouds  streamed  down  the  light  of  Truth, 
 
 And  made  it  morning  with  refulgent  ray, 
 Along  the  steep  and  weary  path  I  trod, 
 
 With  none  to  guide,  and  few  to  comfort  me. 
 I  felt  the  presence  of  the  Eternal  God, 
 
 That  in  his  hand  'twas  blessedness  to  be, 
 Finding  relief  from  woes  in  consciousness  of  thee. 
 
 THANKFULNESS    AND    TRUST. 
 
 "pOR  all  the  trials  of  my  earlier  day, 
 
 I  thank  thee,  Father,  that  they  all  have  been ; 
 That  darkness  lay  about  the  rugged  way 
 
 Which  I  must  tread  alone.     For  all  I've  seen 
 Of  disappointment,  sorrow,  pain,  and  loss, 
 
 I  thank  thee  for  them  all.     And  did  I  sin, 
 I  grieve  not  I've  been  tried  ;  for  e'en  the  cross 
 
 Of  penitence  has  taught  me  how  to  win. 
 Yet,  of  the  ills  as  child  or  man  I've  borne,  — 
 
 My  hopes  laid  waste,  or  friends  sent  off  by  death,  — 
 Remorse  has  most  of  all  my  bosom  torn 
 
 For  time  misspent,  ill  deeds,  or  evil  breath. 
 But  yet,  for  every  grief  my  heart  has  worn, 
 
 Father,  I  thank  thee  still,  trusting  with  hearty  faith. 
 
 THE    GOOD    SHEPHERD. 
 
 "V^ES,  Holy  One,  thou  the  good  Shepherd  art, 
 
 Enduring  hardest  service  for  thy  sheep, 
 Hearing  their  bleatings  with  a  human  heart, 
 Not  losing  such  as  thou  wert  put  to  keep  ; 
 
CHANDLER  ROBBINS.  303 
 
 But  feeble  wanderers  from  the  field  astray 
 
 Thou  on  thy  shoulders  takest,  and  dost  bear 
 From  hireling  thieves  and  murdering  wolves  away, 
 
 And  watchest  o'er  them  with  a  guardian  care. 
 Thou  art  the  human  Shepherd  of  the  sheep, 
 
 Leading  them  forth  to  pasture  all  the  day  ; 
 At  night  to  folds  which  them  in  safety  keep. 
 
 Thou  light  and  life  from  God,  to  heaven  the  way, 
 And  giving,  at  the  last,  thy  own,  thy  well-beloved,  sleep. 
 
 CHANDLER   ROBBINS. 
 
 (l8l°-)  thii 
 
 Rev.  Chandler  Robbins,  D.D.,  was  born  in  Lynn,  Mass.,  Feb.  14, 
 1810.  He  graduated  at  Harvard  College  in  1829,  and  at  the  Cambridge 
 Divinity  School  in  1833.  He  was  ordained  pastor  of  the  Second  Church 
 in  Boston,  Dec.  4,  1833,  Rev.  Henry  Ware,  Jr.,  D.D.,  its  former  minister, 
 preaching  the  sermon.  His  immediate  predecessor  was  Ralph  Waldo 
 Emerson.  Dr.  Robbins  still  has  charge  of  this  ancient  society,  having 
 thus  continued  in  this  relation  for  more  than  forty  years.  He  is  a  mem- 
 ber of  the  Massachusetts  Historical  Society,  and  he  received  the  degree 
 of  D.D.  from  Harvard  College  in  1855. 
 
 The  more  important  of  his  published  writings  are,  A  History  of  the 
 Second  Church  in  Boston,  with  Liy.es  of  Increase  and  Cotton  Mather  ; 
 Two  Sermons  on  the  Death  of  Rev.  Henry  Ware,  Jr.,  D.D. ;  Two  His- 
 torical Discourses  on  taking  down  the  "New  Brick  Church  ;  "  Artillery 
 Election  Sermon,  1836;  Memoirs  of  Rev.  Alexander  Young  and  Hon. 
 William  Appleton,  and  various  papers  in  the  Collections  of  the  Massa- 
 chusetts Historical  Society;  Lectures  on  the  Regicide  before  the  Lowell 
 Institute;  and  articles  in  the  "Knickerbocker,"  "Christian  Examiner," 
 and  other  literary  and  religious  periodicals.  He  also  edited  the  works 
 of  Henry  Ware,  Jr.,  in  four  volumes,  and  has  published  numerous  ordi- 
 nation, dedication,  and  other  occasional  sermons. 
 
 In  1S43  ne  compiled  "The  Social  Hymn-Book,"  which  was  designed     v 
 "for  vestry  meetings  and  for  parishes  that  were  unable  to  procure  more 
 expensive  collections,"  and  which  was  filled  with  the  choicest  and  most 
 devotional  sacred  lyrics. 
 
 In  1854  he  compiled  another,  which  was  larger  and  more  specially 
 adapted   to   the   use   of    churches   generally,    and   which    was    entitled 
 "  Hymn-Book  for  Christian  Worship."    For  his  own  use,  this  was  bound      * 
 up  with  a  "Liturgy  for  a  Christian  Church." 
 
304     SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 We  find  only  two  hymns  that  are  to  be  referred  to  Dr.  Robbins  as 
 their  author.  These  were  contributed  to  an  excellent  Collection  made 
 by  Rev.  George  E.  Ellis,  D.D.,  and  published  (new  edition)  in  1853, 
 "  Psalms  and  Hymns  for  the  wSanctuary."     They  are  as  follows  :  — 
 
 "SPEAK,   LORD,   FOR  THY   SERVANT    HEARETH.' 
 
 "V\7HILE  thus  thy  throne  of  grace  we  seek, 
 
 O  God,  within  our  spirits  speak  ! 
 For  we  will  hear  thy  voice  to-day, 
 Nor  turn  our  hardened  hearts  away. 
 
 Speak  in  thy  gentlest  tones  of  love, 
 Till  all  our  best  affections  move  \ 
 We  long  to  hear  no  meaner  call, 
 But  feel  that  thou  art  all  in  all. 
 
 To  conscience  speak  thy  quickening  word, 
 Till  all  its  sense  of  sin  is  stirred  ; 
 For  we  would  leave  no  stain  of  guile, 
 To  cloud  the  radiance  of  thy  smile. 
 
 Speak,  Father,  to  the  anxious  heart, 
 Till  every  fear  and  doubt  depart ; 
 For  we  can  find  no  home  or  rest, 
 Till  with  thy  Spirit's  whispers  blest. 
 
 Speak  to  convince,  forgive,  console  ; 
 Child-like  we  yield  to  thy  control : 
 These  hearts,  too  often  closed  before, 
 Would  grieve  thy  patient  love  no  more. 
 
 A  pleasant  incident  is  related  of  the  hymn  that  follows.  A  com- 
 pany of  Bostonians,  among  whom  was  a  daughter  of  Dr.  Robbins,  Mrs. 
 Hill,  were  returning  from  England  in  a  Cunard  steamer.  An  aged 
 Scotch  Presbyterian  minister  and  his  wife  were  among  the  passengers. 
 The  party  were  singing  hymns  on  deck  at  the  close  of  a  lovely  Sabbath 
 day,  when  the  clergyman  went  to  his  state-room  and  brought  a  book  of 
 
EDMUND  HAMILTON  SEARS.  305 
 
 hymns  and  tunes  to  show  them  what  he  said  was  the  sweetest  hymn  he 
 knew,  set  to  the  sweetest  tune.  What  was  the  Boston  lady's  surprise  to 
 hear  him  repeat  the  lines  which  her  own  father  had  written,  "  Lo  !  the 
 day  of  rest  declineth,"  and  begin  to  sing  "Bedford  Street,"  a  tune 
 composed  for  the  words  by  Mr.  L.  B.  Barnes,  President  of  the  Handel 
 and  Haydn  Society,  and  named  for  the  author's  own  church,  which  was 
 in  Bedford  Street,  Boston.  The  hymn  is  in  many  Collections,  and  well 
 befits  the  sacred  quiet  of  a  Sabbath  evening. 
 
 EVENING   HYMN.     CLOSE   OF   WORSHIP. 
 
 T    O  !  the  day  of  rest  declineth, 
 
 Gather  fast  the  shades  of  night ; 
 May  the  Sun  that  ever  shineth 
 Fill  our  souls  with  heavenly  light. 
 
 Softly  now  the  clew  is  falling ; 
 
 Peace  o'er  all  the  scene  is  spread  ; 
 On  his  children,  meekly  calling, 
 
 Purer  influence  God  will  shed. 
 
 While  thine  ear  of  love  addressing, 
 Thus  our  parting  hymn  we  sing,  — 
 
 Father,  give  thine  evening  blessing  ; 
 Fold  us  safe  beneath  thy  wing. 
 
 EDMUND    HAMILTON    SEARS. 
 
 (1810.) 
 
 Riv.  Edmund  H.  Sears.  D.D.,  was  born  in  Berkshire,  Mass.,  in 
 1810.  He  graduated  at  Union  College,  Schenectady,  N.V.,  in  TS34,  and 
 at  the  Theological  School,  at  Cambridge,  in  1837.  He  became  the  minis- 
 ter of  the  Unitarian  Church  in  Wayland,  Mass.,  in  1838;  removed  to 
 Lancaster  in  1S40,  and  returned  to  his  former  charge  in  Wayland  in  1847. 
 Here  he  remained  until  1S65,  when  he  assumed  the  pastoral  care  of  the 
 Unitarian  Society  in  Weston,  where  he  now  resides,  pursuing  still  the 
 duties  of  his  profession,  and  adding  thereto  his  continued  labors  as  an 
 author. 
 
 20 
 
306 
 
 SONGS  OF   THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 He  first  came  to  be  widely  known  by  an  able,  suggestive,  and  beau- 
 tiful treatise,  entitled  "Regeneration,"  which  was  written  at  the  request 
 of  the  Executive  Committee  of  the  American  Unitarian  Association,  and 
 published  in  1854.  This  was  followed  by  "  Pictures  of  the  Olden  Time," 
 in  1857  ;  "Athanasia,  or  Foregleams  of  Immortality,"  in  1858  (enlarged 
 edition  in  1872)  ;  and  "The  Fourth  Gospel  the  Heart  of  Christ,"  1872. 
 Most  of  these  works  have  passed  through  various  editions,  and  have 
 been  much  read  and  admired  in  many  Christian  communions.  They  are 
 marked  by  a  high  degree  of  intellectual  vigor  and  abundant  evidence  of 
 scholarly  taste  and  of  theological  and  literary  attainments,  while  they  are 
 written  in  a  singularly  rich  and  poetic  style,  and  teem  with  the  most 
 glowing  spiritual  thought  and  sentiment.  For  many  years  he  has  been 
 a  prolific  writer  for  the  "  Monthly  Religious  Magazine,"  published  in 
 Boston ;  and  for  twelve  years  ( 1859-187 1)  he  and  Rev.  Rufus  Ellis  were 
 its  editors.  This  periodical  was  formerly  under  the  charge  of  Rev.  Dr. 
 Huntington  ;  but,  since  1871,  it  has  been  edited  successively  by  Rev. 
 J.  H.  Morison,  D.D.,  Rev.  Charles  Lowe,  and  Rev.  Henry  W.  Foote.  To 
 its  pages  Dr.  Sears  has  contributed  not  only  numerous  theological 
 articles  and  "  Random  Readings,"  but  also,  from  time  to  time,  hymns 
 and  poems  which  have  been  gems  of  the  rarest  lustre. 
 
 Dr.  S-ears  received  the  degree  of  D.D.  from  his  Alma  Mater  in  187 1. 
 In  1873  he  visited  England,  where  his  writings,  but  especially  his  most 
 important  work,  "The  Heart  of  Christ,"  secured  for  him  much  attention 
 in  religious  circles.  He  has  another  volume  in  press,  of  Sermons  and 
 Songs,  which,  we  need  not  say,  will  be  warmly  welcomed  by  his  multi- 
 tude of  readers. 
 
 In  introducing  a  few  of  his  best  hymns,  it  may  be  said  concerning  the  first, 
 "  Calm  on  the  listening  ear  of  night,"  that  it  has  already  been  admitted 
 —  too  often,  we  regret  to  say,  only  in  part  —  into  many  Orthodox  as  well 
 as  Unitarian  Collections  in  America  and  England,  and  promises  to  be 
 one  of  the  most  universally  accepted  and  cherished  of  all  spiritual  songs. 
 Dr.  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes,  in  a  course  of  lectures  which  he  delivered 
 many  years  ago  before  the  Lowell  Institute  in  Boston,  pronounced  it  one 
 of  the  finest  and  most  beautiful  hymns  ever  written.  It  was  first  pub- 
 lished, in  its  original  form,  in  the  "Boston  Observer,"  in  1834;  after- 
 wards, in  the  "  Christian  Register,"  in  1835  ;  subsequently  it  was  emended 
 by  the  author,  and,  as  thus  emended,  was  reprinted  entire  in  the  "  Monthly 
 Magazine,"  Vol.  XXXV.  As  it  has  so  frequently  appeared  in  the  hymn- 
 books  with  unauthorized  alterations  and  with  various  omissions,  we 
 present  it  here  as  it  appeared  in  the  periodical  just  referred  to. 
 
 CHRISTMAS    SONG. 
 /"^ALM  on  the  listening  ear  of  night 
 
 Come  Heaven's  melodious  strains, 
 Where  wild  Judea  stretches  far 
 Her  silver-mantled  plains ; 
 
EDMUND  HAMILTON  SEARS.  307 
 
 Celestial  choirs  from  courts  above 
 
 Shed  sacred  glories  there  ; 
 And  angels  with  their  sparkling  lyres 
 
 Make  music  on  the  air. 
 
 The  answering  hills  of  Palestine 
 
 Send  back  the  glad  reply. 
 And  greet  from  all  their  holy  heights 
 
 The  day-spring  from  on  high. 
 O'er  the  blue  depths  of  Galilee 
 
 There  comes  a  holier  calm  j 
 And  Sharon  waves,  in  solemn  praise, 
 
 Her  silent  groves  of  palm. 
 
 "  Glory  to  God  !  "     The  lofty  strain 
 
 The  realm  of  ether  fills  : 
 How  sweeps  the  song  of  solemn  joy 
 
 O'er  Judah's  sacred  hills  ! 
 "  Glory  to  God  !  "     The  sounding  skies 
 
 Loud  with  their  anthems  ring : 
 "  Peace  on  the  earth ;  good-will  to  men, 
 
 From  Heaven's  eternal  King  !  " 
 
 Light  on  thy  hills,  Jerusalem  ! 
 
 The  Saviour  now  is  born  : 
 More  bright  on  Bethlehem's  joyous  plains 
 
 Breaks  the  first  Christmas  morn  ; 
 And  brighter  on  Moriah's  brow, 
 
 Crowned  with  her  temple-spires, 
 Which  first  proclaim  the  new-born  light, 
 
 Clothed  with  its  orient  fires. 
 
 This  clay  shall  Christian  hearts  be  mute 
 
 And  Christian  hearts  be  cold  ? 
 Oh,  catch  the  anthem  that  from  heaven 
 
 O'er  Judah's  mountains  rolled  ! 
 When  nightly  burst  from  seraph-harps 
 
 The  high  and  solemn  lay,  — 
 "  Glory  to  God  !  on  earth  be  peace  ; 
 
 Salvation  comes  to-day !  " 
 
308  SOJVGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL    FAITH. 
 
 However  much  the  foregoing  hymn  may  be  admired,  another  Christ- 
 mas song,  which  Dr.  Sears  has  written,  and  which  is  in  not  a  few  of  the 
 hymn-books,  is  thought  by  many  to  be  even  better.  We  copy  it  entire 
 from  Mr.  Martineau's  recent  Collection,  which  omits  the  other.  Rev. 
 Dr.  Morison,  of  Milton,  writes  to  us  :  "  Sears's  second  Christmas  hymn 
 was  sent  to  me  as  editor  of  the  '  Christian  Register,'  I  think,  in  Decem- 
 ber, 1849.  I  was  verY  much  delighted  with  it,  and,  before  it  came  out 
 in  the  '  Register,'  read  it  at  a  Christmas  celebration  of  Dr.  Lunt's  Sun- 
 day school  in  Quincy.  I  always  feel  that,  however  poor  my  Christmas 
 sermon  may  be,  the  reading  and  singing  of  this  hymn  are  enough  to  make 
 up  for  all  deficiencies." 
 
 PEACE    ON    EARTH. 
 
 TT  came  upon  the  midnight  clear,  — 
 
 That  glorious  song  of  old, 
 From  angels  bending  near  the  earth 
 
 To  touch  their  harps  of  gold  : 
 "Peace  on  the  earth,  good  will  to  men, 
 
 From  heaven's  all-gracious  King  !  " 
 The  world  in  solemn  stillness  lay 
 
 To  hear  the  angels  sing. 
 
 Still  through  the  cloven  skies  they  come, 
 
 With  peaceful  wings  unfurled  ; 
 And  still  their  heavenly  music  floats 
 
 O'er  all  the  weary  world. 
 Above  its  sad  and  lowly  plains 
 
 They  bend,  on  hovering  wing ; 
 And  ever  o'er  its  Babel  sounds 
 
 The  blessed  angels  sing. 
 
 Yet  with  the  woes  of  sin  and  strife 
 
 The  world  has  suffered  long : 
 Beneath  the  angels'  strain  have  rolled 
 
 Two  thousand  years  of  wrong  ; 
 And  man,  at  war  with  man,  hears  not 
 
 The  love-song  which  they  bring : 
 Oh,  hush  the  noise,  ye  men  of  strife, 
 
 And  hear  the  angels  sing ! 
 
RDM  VXD   HAMILTON  SEARS.  309 
 
 And  ye,  beneath  life's  crushing  load, 
 
 Whose  forms  are  bending  low, 
 Who  toil  along  the  climbing  way 
 
 With  painful  steps  and  slow,  — 
 Look  now  !  for  glad  and  golden  hours 
 
 Come  swiftly  on  the  wing  : 
 ( >h,  rest  beside  the  weary  road, 
 
 And  hear  the  angels  sing ! 
 
 For  lo  !  the  days  are  hastening  on, 
 
 By  prophet-bards  foretold, 
 When  with  the  ever-circling  years 
 
 Comes  round  the  age  of  gold  j 
 When  peace  shall  over  all  the  earth 
 
 Its  ancient  splendors  fling, 
 And  the  whole  world  send  back  the  song 
 
 Which  now  the  angels  sing. 
 
 "FEED    MY  LAMBS." 
 
 Taken  from  the  "  Hymns  of  the  Spirit." 
 
 "LTO  !  ye  that  rest  beneath  the  rock, 
 
 On  pastures  gently  growing, 
 Or  roam  at  will,  a  favored  flock, 
 
 By  waters  gently  flowing ; 
 Hear  ye  upon  the  desert  air 
 
 A  voice  of  woe  come  crying, 
 Where,  cold  upon  the  barren  moor, 
 
 God's  little  lambs  are  dying  ! 
 
 See  the  great  Shepherd  bend  and  call 
 
 From  fields  of  light  and  glory, 
 "Go,  feed  my  lambs,  and  bring  them  all 
 
 From  moor  and  mountain  hoary  !  " 
 Ye  favored  flock,  the  call  ol 
 
 And  from  the  desert  dreary 
 Lead  those  who  faint  along  the  way, 
 
 Or  wander,  lost  and  weary. 
 
310  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 ABOVE   THE   STORMS. 
 
 Published  in  the  "Religious  Magazine,"  February,  1873. 
 
 A  BOVE  the  storms  and  thunder-jars 
 
 That  shake  the  eddying  air, 
 Away  beneath  the  naked  stars, 
 Rises  the  Mount  of  Prayer  ! 
 
 The  cumbering  bars  of  mortal  life 
 Here  break  and  fall  away, 
 
 And  the  harsh  noise  of  human  strife 
 Comes  never  :  Let  us  pray  ! 
 
 Here,  Lord,  may  thy  serener  light 
 
 Reveal  my  nature  true, 
 And  all  the  pages  dark  and  bright 
 
 Lie  open  to  my  view. 
 
 I've  mingled  in  the  battle-din 
 That  shakes  the  plains  below, 
 
 And  passions  born  of  earth  and  sin 
 Have  left  their  stains,  I  know. 
 
 How  silent  move  thy  chariot-wheels 
 Along  our  camping  ground, 
 
 Whose  thickly  folding  smoke  conceals 
 Thy  camp  of  fire  around  ! 
 
 We  tremble  in  the  battle's  roar, 
 Are  brave  amid  its  calm  ; 
 
 And  when  the  fearful  fight  is  o'er 
 We  snatch  thy  victor-palm. 
 
 On  surface-knowledge  we  have  fed, 
 And  missed  the  golden  grain  ; 
 
 And  now  I  come  to  thee  for  bread 
 To  sate  this  hunger-pain. 
 
EDMUND   HAMILTON  SEARS.  311 
 
 No  .uift  I  bring,  nor  knowledge  fine, 
 
 Nor  trophies  of  my  own  ; 
 1  come  to  lay  my  heart  in  thine, 
 
 O  Lamb  amid  the  throne  ! 
 
 u  All  that  the  Father  hath  is  mine," 
 
 Thus  does  thy  word  declare, — 
 So  the  full  stream  of  Life  Divine 
 
 Flows  from  the  Godhead  there. 
 
 The  Tree  of  Life  in  mystic  rows 
 
 Stands  in  eternal  green  ; 
 Out  from  the  throne  the  river  flows 
 
 In  crystal  waves  between. 
 
 Ambrosial  fruits  hang  o'er  the  waves 
 
 That  pour  their  cleansing  flood,  — 
 Thy  fount  of  love  the  heart  that  laves, 
 
 And  fills  with  royal  good. 
 
 That  good  I  seek,  yet  not  alone 
 
 The  hungered  heart  to  fill, 
 But  as  the  angels  nigh  the  throne, 
 
 Made  swift  to  do  thy  will : 
 
 Thy  will,  unmingled,  Lord,  with  mine, 
 
 That  makes  all  service  sweet, 
 And,  charged  with  messages  divine, 
 
 Puts  wings  upon  my  feet. 
 
 No  need  to  trim  my  taper's  blaze, 
 
 No  need  of  sun  or  moon  ; 
 The  glories  falling  from  thy  face 
 
 Make  my  unchanging  noon. 
 
312  SONGS    OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 ABIEL    ABBOT    LIVERMORE. 
 (1811.) 
 
 Rev.  A.  A.  Livermore  was  born  in  Wilton,  N.H.,  Oct.  30,  181 1. 
 His  parents  were  Jonathan  Livermore  and  Abigail  (Abbot)  Livermore; 
 and  Sarah  White  Livermore,  of  whom  we  have  given  a  sketch  in  another 
 part  of  this  volume,  was  his  aunt.  He  fitted  for  College  at  Exeter,  gradu- 
 ated at  Cambridge  in  the  class  of  1833,  and  at  the  Divinity  School  in 
 1836.  He  was  ordained  pastor  of  the  Unitarian  Church  in  Keene,  N.H., 
 Nov.  2,  1836;  and  was  installed  minister  of  the  Unitarian  Church  in  Cin- 
 cinnati, Ohio,  May  26,  1850.  This  connection  was  dissolved  in  the  summer 
 of  1856;  and  on  the  1st  of  January,  1857,  he  assumed  the  editorial  charge 
 of  the  New  York  "  Christian  Inquirer,"  which  now  bears  the  name  of 
 "Liberal  Christian,"  while  at  the  same  time  he  served  as  pastor  of  Hope 
 Church  at  Yonkers.  He  was  chosen  President  of  the  Theological  School 
 at  Meadville,  Pa.,  June  25,  1863  >  anc^>  entering  upon  the  duties  of  the 
 position  shortly  after,  has  since  continued  as  the  head  of  that  institution, 
 and  has  seen  many  classes  of  young  men  pass  out  of  his  care  to  become 
 the  ministers  of  the  Liberal  Faith  in  different  sections  of  the  country. 
 
 Mr.  Livermore,  in  connection  with  his  professional  labors,  has  found 
 time  to  write  and  publish  numerous  very  useful  books  :  a  Commentary 
 on  the  Four  Gospels,  1841-42  (republished  in  Belfast,  Ireland,  1844)  ;  a 
 Commentary  on  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles,  1844  (London  edition,  1846)  ; 
 "Lectures  to  Young  Men  on  their  Moral  Duties  and  Dangers,"  1846; 
 "The  Marriage  Offering,"  a  compilation  of  prose  and  poetry,  1848; 
 "The  War  with  Mexico  Reviewed,"  a  Prize  Essay,  1850;  a  volume  of 
 Discourses,  1854  ;  a  Commentary  on  the  Epistle  to  the  Romans,  1854. 
 He  has  also  been  a  contributor  to  various  magazines,  the  "  North  Ameri- 
 can Review,"  the  "Christian  Examiner,"  the  "  Christian  Repository,"  and 
 others.  His  commentaries,  especially,  are  deserving  of  notice,  since  no 
 similar  works  of  any  other  American  Unitarian  author  have  been  so 
 well  adapted  to  popular  use  in  the  Sunday  school  and  home  as  have  his. 
 
 Mr.  Livermore  was  associated  with  Rev.  Levi  W.  Leonard,  D.D., 
 Rev.  W.  A.  Whitwell,  and  Rev.  Curtis  Cutler,  in  compiling  the  book  of 
 "Christian  Hymns,"  familiarly  known  as  the  "Cheshire  Collection." 
 It  was  first  published  in  1845,  passed  through  as  many  as  sixty  editions, 
 and  came  to  be  very  widely  used  in  Unitarian  Churches.  The  principal 
 labor  of  its  preparation  devolved  upon  Mr.  Livermore,  who  wrote  its 
 Preface,  and  also  contributed  to  it  a  hymn  of  his  own,  which  has  since 
 passed  into  various  Collections  :  "A  Book  of  Hymns,"  by  Messrs.  Long- 
 fellow and  Johnson;  "Christian  Worship,"  by  Drs.  Osgood  and  Farley; 
 Mr.  Martineau's  new  "  Hymns  of  Praise  and  Prayer,"  &c.  Its  simple, 
 fervent  lines,  as  we  copy  them  here,  were  written  immediately  after  their 
 
A  BIEL  A  DBOT  LI  I  'ERMORR.  3  '  3 
 
 author  had  attended  a  very  impressive  communion  service,  administered 
 by  Rev.  James  Walker,  D.D.,  who  had  feelingly  spoken  of  the  sacred 
 occasion  as  a  spirit,  a  presence,  a  fragrance. 
 
 THE    LOVE    OF    THE    BRETHREN. 
 
 A    HOLY  air  is  breathing  round, 
 
 A  savor  from  above  ; 
 Be  every  soul  from  sense  unbound, 
 Be  every  spirit  love. 
 
 O  God,  unite  us  heart  to  heart, 
 
 In  sympathy  divine, 
 That  we  be  never  drawn  apart, 
 
 And  love  nor  thee  nor  thine. 
 
 But,  by  the  cross  of  Jesus  taught, 
 And  all  thy  gracious  word, 
 
 Be  nearer  to  each  other  brought, 
 And  nearer  to  our  Lord. 
 
 The  first  Unitarian  Year-Book  ever  published  in  this  country  was 
 printed  in  1846.  The  idea  and  preparation  of  it  were  due  to  Mr.  Liver- 
 more.  Since  that  time  the  denomination  has  issued  a  similar  book  each 
 year  ;  and  the  Unitarians  in  England  have  thus  been  led  to  do  the  same. 
 In  the  first  number,  just  referred  to,  are  several  of  Mr.  Livermore's 
 poems.    Among  them  is  the  above  hymn,  and  another  is  the  following  :  — 
 
 TO    A    SNOW-FLAKE. 
 
 CO  soft,  so  white,  so  cold, 
 
 Thou  seem'st  a  stranger  here  ; 
 Cast  in  some  skyey  mould,  — 
 Methinks  an  angel's  tear. 
 
 So  soft,  so  white,  so  cold, 
 Keen  crystal  of  the  sky  ; 
 
 Formed,  ;i  fi  been  told. 
 
 In  mountains  blue  on  high. 
 
314 
 
 SONGS  OF   THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 So  soft,  so  white,  so  cold, 
 Poor  wianderer  of  the  air ; 
 
 A  scroll  God's  hand  unrolled 
 To  give  us  lessons  rare. 
 
 So  soft,  so  white,  so  cold, 
 
 Thou  white-winged  bird  of  heaven, 
 Thy  pinions  broad  unfurled, 
 
 Thy  feathers  tempest-riven. 
 
 So  soft,  so  white,  so  cold, 
 
 Come  thou,  like  charity, 
 And  spread  thy  mantle's  fold 
 
 O'er  earth's  dark  stains  to  lie. 
 
 So  soft,  so  white,  so  cold, 
 
 Sweet  flower  of  heaven  ; 
 No  costly  gem,  no  virgin  gold 
 
 Is  worth  thy  lesson  given. 
 
 Here,  also,  are  some  early  lines  by  Mr.  Livermore,  though  we  have 
 not  met  them  in  any  of  the  books  :  — . 
 
 SPIRITS    CALLING. 
 
 r^OME,  let  us  away, 
 
 Far,  far  to  the  Day,  — 
 The  spirits  do  pray,  — 
 Nor  'mid  scenes  so  darkling  and  sad  longer  stay. 
 
 Why  linger  on  earth, 
 Where  living  is  dearth, 
 Where  dying  is  birth, 
 But  of  heaven,  sister  spirit,  how  vital  the  breath  ! 
 
 Then  fear  not  to  die,  — 
 Farewell  and  a  sigh,  — 
 Thy  home  is  on  high, 
 To  the  bowers  of  bliss  thou  wilt  joyfully  fly. 
 
U  ILLIA M  HENR  Y  BURLEIGH.  3  '  5 
 
 The  body  doth  fall, 
 The  spirits  do  call, 
 From  this  earthly  pall, 
 On  the  pinions  of  faith  to  Him,  all  in  all. 
 
 O  God  of  the  bles 
 Thy  heavenly  rest 
 Speaks  peace  to  the  breast, 
 When  o'erwhelmed  in  grief  and  by  fears  oppressed. 
 
 Then  welcome  the  day 
 Invites  us  away,  — 
 Our  Father  the  stay,  — 
 To  regions  all  bright  with  Eternity's  ray. 
 
 WILLIAM    HENRY   BURLEIGH. 
 
 (1812-1871.) 
 
 William  H.  Burleigh  was  born  in  Woodstock,  Conn.,  Feb.  2,  1812, 
 and  was  the  fourth  son  of  Rinaldo  Burleigh,  a  graduate  of  Yale  College 
 and  a  successful  classical  teacher.  On  his  mother's  side  he  was  a  lineal 
 descendant  of  Governor  William  Bradford,  of  the  Mayflower.  He  grew 
 up  on  his  father's  farm  at  Plainfield,  whither  the  family  removed,  and  here 
 he  inured  himself  to  hard  labor,  went  to  the  district  school,  and  early 
 cultivated  his  love  of  nature  and  his  taste  for  poetry.  He  early  espoused 
 the  Anti-slavery  cause  and  the  Temperance  reform,  and  through  all  his 
 subsequent  life  was  actively  and  prominently  identified  with  them  both, 
 while  at  the  same  time  he  pursued  with  marked  success  his  literary 
 labors.  Removing  to  Pittsburgh,  Pa.,  in  1837,  he  published  the  "  Chris- 
 tian Witness,"  and  afterward  the  "Temperance  Banner."  In  1843  ne 
 removed  4.0  Hartford,  Conn.,  and  edited  an  anti-slavery  paper,  "  The 
 Christian  Freeman,"  which  subsequently  took  the  name  of  "Charter 
 ( )ak."  Going  to  Syracuse,  X.Y.,  in  1849,  he  served  for  five  years  as  the 
 agent  of  the  New  York  State  Temperance  Society,  acting  as  editor, 
 lecturer,  and  secretary.  During  a  part  of  this  time  he  resided  at  Albany, 
 where  he  conducted  "  The  Prohibitionist."  While  here,  he  received 
 from  his  warm  friend,  Governor  Clark,  an  appointment  as  Harbor  Master 
 of  New  York.  He  accepted  the  position,  fixing  his  residence  at  Brooklyn, 
 where  he  died,  March  18,  1871. 
 
 Mr.  Burleigh's  features  and  presence  were  indicative  of  his  superior 
 
3l6  SONGS   OF   THE  LIBERAL   FAITH. 
 
 intellectual  and  moral  power.  He  was  an  able  and  eloquent  writer  and 
 speaker,  and,  like  his  well-known  brother,  Charles  C.  Burleigh,  had  the 
 courage  to  champion  even  the  most  unpopular  movement  that  com- 
 mended itself  to  his  reason  and  his  sense  of  justice  and  right.  Soon 
 after  his  death,  his  wife,  Mrs.  Celia  Burleigh,  late  pastor  of  the  Unita- 
 rian Church  at  Brooklyn,  Conn.,  prepared  and  published  a  volume  con- 
 taining a  sketch  of  his  life  and  embracing  a  large  number  of  poems 
 which  he  had  written  during  his  brave  and  busy  career.  They  all 
 breathe  a  lofty  spirit  of  humanity,  and  of  trust  in  the  eternal  goodness  ; 
 reveal  a  soul  that  is  strong  and  free,  yet  devout  and  childlike  ;  are  rich 
 with  noble  thought  and  refined  sentiment,  and  are  musical  in  their 
 rhythm  and  glowing  in  their  expression.  From  a  volume  that  is  so  full 
 of  the  best  things,  we  could  select  very  many  pieces  which  we  should 
 like  to  transfer  to  our  pages,  but  must  content  ourselves  with  the  fol- 
 lowing :  — 
 
 STILL   WILL   WE    TRUST. 
 
 O  TILL  will  we  trust,  though  earth  seem  dark  and  dreary, 
 
 And  the  heart  faint  beneath  his  chastening  rod ; 
 Though  rough  and  steep  our  pathway,  worn  and  weary, 
 Still  will  we  trust  in  God  ! 
 
 Our  eyes  see  dimly  till  by  faith  anointed, 
 And  our  blind  choosing  brings  us  grief  and  pain  j 
 Through  Him  alone  who  hath  our  way  appointed 
 We  find  our  peace  again. 
 
 Choose  for  us,  God  !  nor  let  our  weak  preferring 
 Cheat  our  poor  souls  of  good  thou  hast  designed  ; 
 Choose  for  us,  God  !  thy  wisdom  is  unerring, 
 And  we  are  fools  and  blind. 
 
 So  from  our  sky  the  night  shall  furl  her  shadows, 
 And  day  pour  gladness  through  his  golden  gates  ; 
 Our  rough  path  lead  to  flower-enamelled  meadows, 
 Where  joy  our  coming  waits. 
 
 Let  us  press  on  in  patient  self-denial, 
 Accept  the  hardship,  shrink  not  from  the  loss : 
 Our  guerdon  lies  beyond  the  hour  of  trial, 
 Our  crown  beyond  the  cross. 
 
WILLIAM  HENRY  BURLEIGH.  317 
 
 "  REJOICE    IN    THE    LORD    ALWAYS. 
 
 /T*HEIR  brows  should  wear  a  holy  light, 
 
 Who  front  the  heavens  serenely  bright ; 
 And  gladness  should  their  steps  attend, 
 Who  walk  with  God  as  with  a  friend. 
 
 For  every  footfall  of  their  way 
 But  brings  them  nearer  to  the  day 
 That  knows  no  night,  and  to  the  joy 
 Nor  grief  can  mar  nor  sin  alloy. 
 
 Fixed  in  the  path  that  he  hath  trod, 
 Their  lives  are  hid  with  Christ  in  God  ; 
 And  dwell  secure  from  every  harm, 
 Encircled  by  the  Father's  arm. 
 
 Behind  the  cloud,  above  the  storm, 
 His  sunlight  lingers  soft  and  warm  ; 
 And  even  through  midnight's  gloomiest  pall 
 Some  beams  of  mercy  gently  fall. 
 
 However  dark  the  frown  of  fate, 
 God  will  his  promise  vindicate, 
 And  in  his  own  good  time  and  way 
 Bring  in  the  full  and  perfect  clay, 
 
 In  whose  glad  light  shall  disappear 
 All  that  perplexed  and  troubled  here, 
 And  show  the  weary  path  they  trod, 
 As  the  one  path  whose  end  is  —  God  ! 
 
 BLESSED    ARE   THEY   THAT   MOURN.' 
 
 f^\  DEEM  not  that  earth's  crowning  bliss 
 
 Is  found  in  joy  alone, 
 For  sorrow,  bitter  though  it  be, 
 Hath  blessings  all  its  own  : 
 
3*8  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 From  lips  divine,  like  healing  balm, 
 To  hearts  oppressed  and  torn, 
 
 This  heavenly  consolation  fell,  — 
 "  Blessed  are  they  that  mourn  !  " 
 
 As  blossoms  smitten  by  the  rain 
 
 Their  sweetest  odors  yield  ; 
 As  where  the  plough-share  deepest  strikes, 
 
 Rich  harvests  crown  the  field,  — 
 So  to  the  hopes  by  sorrow  crushed 
 
 A  nobler  faith  succeeds  ; 
 And  life,  by  trials  furrowed,  bears 
 
 The  fruit  of  loving  deeds. 
 
 Who  never  mourned,  hath  never  known 
 
 What  treasures  grief  reveals  : 
 The  sympathies  that  humanize, 
 
 The  tenderness  that  heals, 
 The  power  to  look  within  the  veil 
 
 And  learn  the  heavenly  lore, 
 The  keyword  to  life's  mysteries, 
 
 So  dark  to  us  before. 
 
 How  rich  and  sweet  and  full  of  strength 
 
 Our  human  spirits  are, 
 Baptized  irito  the  sanctities 
 
 Of  suffering  and  of  prayer  ! 
 Supernal  wisdom,  love  divine, 
 
 Breathe  through  the  lips  which  said, 
 "  O  blessed  are  the  souls  that  mourn, 
 
 They  shall  be  comforted." 
 
 NEEDED    BLESSINGS. 
 
 "\17E  ask  not  that  our  path  be  always  bright, 
 But  for  thy  aid  to  walk  therein  aright ; 
 That  thou,  O  Lord,  through  all  its  devious  way, 
 Will  give  us  strength  sufficient  to  our  day, 
 For  this,  for  this  we  pray. 
 
WILL/AM  HENRY  BURLEIGH.  319 
 
 Not  for  the  fleeting  joys  that  earth  bestows, 
 Not  for  exemption  from  its  many  woes  ; 
 But  that,  come  joy  or  woe,  come  good  or  ill, 
 With  childlike  faith  we  trust  thy  guidance  still, 
 And  do  thy  holy  will. 
 
 Teach  us,  dear  Lord,  to  find  the  latent  good 
 That  sorrow  yields,  when  rightly  understood  ; 
 And  for  the  frequent  joy  that  crowns  our  days, 
 Help  us  with  grateful  hearts  our  hymns  to  raise, 
 Of  thankfulness  and  praise. 
 
 Thou  knowest  all  our  needs,  and  will  supply : 
 No  veil  of  darkness  hides  us  from  thine  eye, 
 Nor  vainly,  from  the  depths,  on  thee  we  call ; 
 Thy  tender  love,  that  breaks  the  tempter's  thrall, 
 Folds  and  encircles  all. 
 
 Through  sorrow  and  through  loss,  by  toil  and  prayer, 
 Saints  won  the  starry  crowns  which  now  they  wear ; 
 And  by  the  bitter  ministry  of  pain, 
 Grievous  and  harsh,  but  O,  not  sent  in  vain, 
 Found  their  eternal  gain. 
 
 If  it  be  ours,  like  them,  to  suffer  loss, 
 Give  grace,  as  unto  them,  to  bear  our  cross, 
 Till,  victors  over  the  besetting  sin, 
 We  too  thy  perfect  peace  shall  enter  in, 
 And  crowns  of  glory  win. 
 
 FAITH'S   REPOSE. 
 
 "CWTHER,  beneath  thy  sheltering  wing 
 
 In  sweet  security  we  rest ! 
 And  fear  no  evil  earth  can  bring, 
 In  life,  in  death,  supremely  blest. 
 
 For  life  is  good,  whose  tidal  flow 
 The  motions  of  thy  will  obeys  ; 
 
 And  death  is  good,  that  makes  us  know 
 The  life  divine  that  all  things  sways. 
 
320  SONGS   OF   THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 And  good  it  is  to  bear  the  cross, 
 And  so  thy  perfect  peace  to  win  ; 
 
 And  naught  is  ill,  nor  brings  us  loss, 
 Nor  works  us  harm,  save  only  sin. 
 
 Redeemed  from  this,  we  ask  no  more, 
 But  trust  the  love  that  saves  to  guide  ; 
 
 The  grace,  that  yields  so  rich  a  store, 
 Will  grant  us  all  we  need  beside. 
 
 A   PSALM    OF    NIGHT. 
 
 "pADES  from  the  west  the  farewell  light, 
 
 Flung  backward  by  the  setting  sun, 
 And  silence  deepens,  as  the  night 
 
 Steals  with  its  solemn  shadows  on. 
 Gathers  the  soft,  refreshing  dew, 
 
 On  spiring  grass  and  floweret  stems, 
 And  lo  !  the  everlasting  blue 
 
 Is  radiant  with  a  thousand  gems. 
 
 Not  only  doth  the  voiceless  clay 
 
 Thy  loving-kindness,  Lord,  proclaim, 
 But  night,  with  its  sublime  array 
 
 Of  worlds,  doth  magnify  thy  name  ; 
 Yea,  while  adoring  seraphim 
 
 Before  thee  bend  the  willing  knee, 
 From  every  star  a  choral  hymn 
 
 Goes  up  unceasingly  to  thee  ! 
 
 Day  unto  day  cloth  utter  speech, 
 
 And  night  to  night  thy  voice  makes  known  ; 
 Through  all  the  earth,  where  thought  may  reach, 
 
 Is  heard  the  glad  and  solemn  tone ; 
 And  worlds  beyond  the  farthest  star 
 
 Whose  light  hath  reached  a  human  eye, 
 Catch  the  high  anthem  from  afar 
 
 That  rolls  along  immensity. 
 
J  J  'ILL/ A  M  HENR  Y  BURLEIGH.  3  2  I 
 
 O  Holy  Father  !   'mid  the  calm 
 
 And  stillness  of  this  evening  hour, 
 We  too  would  lift  our  solemn  psalm 
 
 To  praise  thy  goodness  and  thy  power  ; 
 For  over  us,  as  over  all, 
 
 Thy  tender  mercies  still  extend. 
 Nor  vainly  shall  the  contrite  call 
 
 On  thee,  our  Father  and  our  Friend. 
 
 Kept  by  thy  goodness  through  the  day, 
 
 Thanksgiving  to  thy  name  we  pour  ; 
 Night  o'er  us  with  its  stars,  we  pray 
 
 Thy  love  to  guard  us  evermore  ! 
 In  grief  console,  in  gladness  bless, 
 
 In  darkness  guide,  in  sickness  cheer, 
 Till,  perfected  in  righteousness, 
 
 Our  souls  before  thy  throne  appear. 
 
 THE    HARVEST-CALL 
 
 A  BIDE  not  in  the  realm  of  dreams, 
 O  man,  however  fair  it  seems, 
 Where  drowsy  airs  thy  powers  repress 
 In  languors  of  sweet  idleness. 
 
 Nor  linger  in  the  misty  past, 
 Entranced  in  visions  vague  and  vast.; 
 But  with  clear  eye  the  present  scan, 
 And  hear  the  call  of  God  and  man. 
 
 That  call,  though  many-voiced,  is  one, 
 With  mighty  meanings  in  each  tone  ; 
 Through  sob  and  laughter,  shriek  and  prayer, 
 Its  summons  meet  thee  everywhere. 
 
 Think  not  in  sleep  to  fold  thy  hands, 
 Forgetful  of  thy  Lord's  commands  ; 
 From  duty's  claims  no  life  is  free, — 
 Behold,  to  day  hath  need  of  thee  ! 
 
322  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 Look  up  !  the  wide  extended  plain 
 Is  billowy  with  its  ripened  grain, 
 And  on  the  summer  winds  are  rolled 
 Its  waves  of  emerald  and  gold. 
 
 Thrust  in  thy  sickle  !  nor  delay 
 The  work  that  calls  for  thee  to-day ; 
 To-morrow,  if  it  come,  will  bear 
 Its  own  demands  of  toil  and  care. 
 
 The  present  hour  allots  thy  task : 
 For  present  strength  and  patience  ask, 
 And  trust  his  love  whose  sure  supplies 
 Meet  all  thy  needs  as  they  arise. 
 
 Lo  !  the  broad  fields  with  harvests  white 
 Thy  hands  to  strenuous  toil  invite ; 
 And  he  who  labors  and  believes 
 Shall  reap  reward  of  ample  sheaves. 
 
 Up,  for  the  time  is  short ;  and  soon 
 The  morning  sun  will  climb  to  noon. 
 Up  !  ere  the  herds,  with  trampling  feet 
 Out-running  thine,  shall  spoil  the  wheat. 
 
 While  the  day  lingers,  do  thy  best ! 
 Full  soon  the  night  will  bring  its  rest ; 
 And,  duty  done,  that  rest  shall  be 
 Full  of  beatitudes  to  thee. 
 
 ORDINATION    HYMN. 
 
 Written  for  the  ordination  of  Mr.  J.  W.  Chadwick,  as  pastor  of  the  Second  Unitarian 
 Church,  in  Brooklyn,  N.Y.,   1864. 
 
 "PATHER,  thy  servant  waits  to  do  thy  will ! 
 
 Called  to  thy  work,  O,  clothe  him  with  thy  might, 
 And  with  this  threefold  grace  his  spirit  fill,  — 
 Love,  liberty,  and  light ! 
 
 . 
 
SAMUEL  DOWSE  ROBBINS.  323 
 
 With  love,  for  the  dear  souls  that  thou  hast  made, 
 And  for  the  truth  which  only  maketh  free  ; 
 So,  with  all  patience,  faithful,  unafraid, 
 He  shall  be  true  to  thee. 
 
 With  liberty,  that  where  thy  Spirit  leads, 
 Follows,  whatever  faith  it  leaves  behind, 
 And  wears  no  fetters  formed  from  olden  creeds, 
 That  blight  whate'er  they  bind. 
 
 With  light,  an  effluence  of  the  Life  Divine, 
 Before  which  error  falls  and  falsehood  dies, 
 Leading  his  spirit  joyfully  to  thine, 
 And  upward  to  the  skies. 
 
 Thus,  furnished  for  his  work,  O  Father,  stand 
 Close  by  his  side  to  give  that  work  success  ; 
 And  may  the  good  seed,  scattered  by  his  hand, 
 Bear  fruits  of  righteousness  ! 
 
 »oXKo« 
 
 SAMUEL    DOWSE    ROBBINS. 
 (1812.) 
 
 Rev.  Samuel  D.  Robbins,  brother  of  Rev.  Chandler  Robbins,  D.D., 
 a  sketch  of  whom  has  been  given  on  a  previous  page,  was  born  in  Lynn, 
 Mass.,  March  7,  1S12.  He  graduated  at  the  Divinity  School,  at  Cam- 
 bridge, in  1833,  and  was  ordained  pastor  of  the  Unitarian  Church  in 
 Lynn,  his  native  town,  Nov.  13,  of  the  same  year.  He  became  the  min- 
 ister of  the  Unitarian  Society  in  Chelsea  in  1840 ;  removed  to  Framing- 
 ham,  and  assumed  the  charge  of  the  church  of  the  same  faith  in  that 
 place  in  1S59,  and  was  next  settled  in  Wayland  in  1867.  ln  l&73  ne  gave 
 up  his  parish  in  Wayland,  and  retired  to  Concord,  where  he  still  resides. 
 
 Mr.  Robbins  received  the  degree  of  A.M.  from  Harvard  College  in 
 1S65.  He  h*as  published  but  little.  Yet,  from  time  to  time,  he  has  sent 
 to  the  magazines  and  papers  numerous  hymns  and  sacred  poems  of  great 
 excellence.  They  are  full  of  devout  and  tender  sentiment,  are  finely 
 expressive  of  Christian  trust  and  love,  and  have  met  a  warm  response  in 
 the  hearts  of  many  readers.  Such  is  the  first  piece  which  we  here  copy, 
 and  which  was  frequently  chanted  by  the  choir  of  one  of  the  churches 
 
324  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 that  have  been  under  the  author's  pastoral  care.  Several  others  of 
 those  which  follow  it  are  to  be  found  in  various  hymn-books,  while  the 
 rest  have  been  taken  from  the  "Monthly  Magazine"  or  religious  week- 
 lies, in  which  they  were  originally  printed,  or  have  been  kindly  furnished 
 us  bv  the  writer  himself,  at  our  solicitation. 
 
 THE    MASTER. 
 
 nTHOU  art  our  Master  !  thou  of  God  the  Son, 
 
 Of  man  the  Friend  ; 
 By  thee  alone  the  victory  is  won  ; 
 Our  souls  defend ! 
 
 Thou  art  the  Master  !  let  us  love  thy  word  ; 
 
 Thy  Spirit  give  ; 
 Let  us  obey  thee  as  our  risen  Lord, 
 
 Obey  and  live. 
 
 Thou  art  our  Master !  with  thy  cross,  thy  crown, 
 
 Thou  Crucified ! 
 Now  from  thy  starry  throne  look  gently  down, 
 
 With  us  abide ! 
 
 Thou  art  our  Master !  through  the  narrow  way 
 
 Thou  once  didst  tread, 
 Lead  thy  disciples  upward  to  the  day, 
 
 Thou  living  Head ! 
 
 Thou  art  our  Master  !  at  thy  feet  we  cast 
 
 Our  burdens  now. 
 The  yoke  of  Love  we  take !  O,  bind  us  fast ! 
 
 To  thee  we  bow. 
 
 Thou  art  our  Master  !  through  our  earthly  home 
 
 No  guide  but  thee  ! 
 And  when  thy  kingdom  unto  us  shall  come, 
 
 Our  servant  be  ! * 
 
 *  Luke  xii.  37. 
 
SAMUEL   DOWSE  ROBBINS.  3^5 
 
 The  next  four  hymns  may  be  found  in  the  "  Hymn  and  Tune  Book,' 
 published  by  the  American  Unitarian  Association. 
 
 THE    DAY. 
 
 HPHOU  art  my  morning,  God  of  light ! 
 
 Thy  dayspring  wakes  my  soul  ; 
 Thy  radiant  smile  subdues  the  night, 
 And  shall  the  day  control. 
 
 And  thou  my  noon,  O  Father  !  art ; 
 
 Thy  central  warmth  I  own  : 
 The  glowing  fulness  of  my  heart 
 
 Pulses  from  thee  alone. 
 
 * 
 
 And  thou  my  evening!  let  me  rest, 
 When  life  declines,  in  thee  ; 
 
 As  sinks  the  sun  into  the  west, 
 Thou  wilt  my  guardian  be. 
 
 A  brighter  morning  round  thy  throne 
 Shall  dawn  with  light  more  fair ; 
 
 Father !   I  trust  in  thee  alone  : 
 Thou  wilt  awake  me  there. 
 
 THE    COMPASS. 
 
 Several  mistakes  in  this  hymn,  as  it  is  printed  in  the  '*  Hymn  and  Tune  Book."   are  here 
 corrected  by  Mr.  Robbins. 
 
 "THOU  art,  O  God  !  my  East.     In  thee  I  dawned  ; 
 
 Within  me  ever  let  thy  dayspring  shine  ; 
 Then,  for  each  night  of  sorrow  I  have  mourned, 
 I'll  bless  thee,  Father,  since  it  seals  me  thine. 
 
 Thou  art,  O  God  !  my  North.     My  trembling  soul, 
 Like  a  charmed  needle,  points  to  thee  alone  ; 
 
 Each  wave  of  time,  each  storm  of  life,  shall  roll 
 My  trusting  spirit  forward  to  thy  throne. 
 
326  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 Thou  art,  0  God  !  my  South.     Thy  fervent  love 
 Perennial  verdure  o'er  my  life  hath  shed ; 
 
 And  constant  sunshine,  from  thy  heart  above, 
 With  wine  and  oil  thy  grateful  child  hath  fed. 
 
 Thou  art,  O  God  !  my  West.  Into  thy  arms, 
 Glad  as  the  setting  sun,  may  I  decline  ; 
 
 Baptized  from  earthly  stains  and  sin's  alarms, 
 Reborn,  arise  in  thy  new  heavens  to  shine. 
 
 COMMUNION    HYMN. 
 
 O  AVIOUR,  when  thy  bread  we  break,  * 
 
 When  thy  "  cup  of  blessing  "  take, 
 Fill  our  souls  with  life  like  thine,  — 
 Thou  our  bread,  and  thou  our  wine. 
 
 For  us  all,  thy  feast  is  spread  ; 
 For  us  all,  thy  blood  was  shed  ; 
 Thou  didst  die  that  all  might  live ; 
 For  all  sin  thyself  didst  give. 
 
 Lowly  we,  around  thy  board, 
 
 Hold  communion  with  our  Lord  ; 
 
 In  our  midst  thy  form  we  see, 
 
 And  through  faith  would  feed  on  thee. 
 
 Let  our  guilt  be  washed  away, 
 Let  our  darkness  turn  to  day ; 
 May  thy  smile  upon  us  rest, 
 W7hile  we  lean  upon  thy  breast ! 
 
 Should  thy  cross  upon  us  press, 
 We  shall  feel  our  sorrows  less  ; 
 Should  thy  yoke  upon  us  bear, 
 Thou  wilt  every  burden  share. 
 
 And  when  here  on  earth  no  more 
 Round  thy  table  we  may  draw, 
 In  thy  Father's  kingdom  we, 
 Through  thy  grace,  would  sup  with  thee. 
 
SAMUEL  DOWSE  ROBBINS.  327 
 
 SUNSET. 
 
 T^OWN  toward  the  twilight  drifting, 
 "^  Hover  now  the  shadows  fast ; 
 Lo  !  the  evening  clouds  are  rifting, 
 And  the  storm  is  overpast. 
 
 One  by  one  the  stars  are  peeping 
 Gently  from  the  azure  deeps  ; 
 
 Loving  angels  round  are  keeping 
 
 Watch  and  ward  while  Nature  sleeps. 
 
 Memory  to  the  heart  is  calling 
 Happy  visions  that  had  fled  ; 
 
 While,  like  dew  around  me  falling, 
 Comes  the  presence  of  the  dead. 
 
 Hush  !  the  solemn  midnight  tolleth : 
 Morn  is  breaking  from  on  high  ; 
 
 God  away  the  darkness  rolleth,  — 
 Light !   and  immortality ! 
 
 HALF-CENTURY    CELEBRATION. 
 
 Written  for  the  Half-Century  Service  of  the  Second  Church  in  Lynn,  Mass.,  1873. 
 
 f^\  THOU,  who  changest  not  though  centuries  roll ! 
 
 Of  all  we  are  or  have,  the  Sun  and  Soul  ! 
 Thy  truths  sublime  the  generations  keep 
 Within  thy  temples,  though  the  Fathers  sleep. 
 
 We  bless  thee  for  the  light  which  streams  each  clay 
 Fresh  from  thy  mind,  to  guide  us  on  our  way  ; 
 We  thank  thee  for  the  love  that  flows  so  free 
 Forth  from  thy  heart  to  lead  us  up  to  thee. 
 
 Thine  are  the  spirits  of  the  pure  and  just, 
 Who  walked  among  us,  true  to  every  trust ; 
 The  fragrance  of  their  memories  shall  rise 
 As  incense  with  our  daily  sacrifice. 
 
328  SOArGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 Our  Father  !  on  that  happy  heavenly  shore, 
 Where  separation  shall  be  known  no  more, 
 Safely  enfolded  on  thy  faithful  breast, 
 Thy  children  all  shall  share  thy  holy  rest. 
 
 ORDINATION    HYMN. 
 
 VX  7TTH  sandals  gemmed  with  morning  dew, 
 
 Forth  to  the  field  of  promise  go, 
 With  footsteps  firm  and  vision  true  ; 
 
 The  seamless  mantle  round  thee  thrown  ! 
 
 With  eye  raised  calmly  to  the  dawn, 
 Accept  the  Father's  light  alone  ; 
 
 And  he  whose  coming  brings  the  morn 
 Shall  with  his  being  fill  thine  own. 
 
 Fling  with  a  master's  hand  the  seed 
 
 Broadcast  with  faith  o'er  hill  and  plain  ; 
 
 For  God  the  harvest-time  shall  speed, 
 And  ripen  all  his  golden  grain. 
 
 Fear  not  the  tares  !  they  shall  not  spoil 
 The  richer  plantage  of  the  Lord, 
 
 But  draw  the  poison  from  the  soil, 
 
 And  leave  the  sheaves  for  thy  reward. 
 
 The  young  lead  gently,  and  the  old 
 Guide  with  his  rod  and  staff  above, 
 
 Where  the  good  Shepherd  all  shall  fold 
 At  nightfall  in  his  perfect  love. 
 
 BACA. 
 
 From  the  "  Monthly  Magazine,"  October,  1869. 
 
 '"THROUGH  Baca's  vale  my  way  is  cast, 
 
 Its  thorns  my  feet  have  trod  ; 
 But  I  have  found  the  well  at  last, 
 And  quench  my  thirst  in  God. 
 
\MUEL   DOWSE  ROBBINS,  329 
 
 My  roof  is  but  an  humble  home 
 
 Hid  in  the  wilderness  ; 
 But  o'er  me  springs  the  eternal  dome, 
 
 For  he  my  dwelling  is. 
 
 My  raiment  rude  and  lowly  seems, 
 
 All  travel-stained  and  old  ; 
 But  with  his  brightest  morning  beams 
 
 He  doth  my  soul  enfold. 
 
 How  scantily  is  my  table  spread  ! 
 
 With  tears  my  cup  o'erflows  : 
 But  he  is  still  my  daily  bread,  — 
 
 Xo  want  my  spirit  knows. 
 
 Hard  is  the  stony  pillow  bed  ; 
 
 How  broken  is  my  rest ! 
 On  him  I  lean  my  aching  head, 
 
 And  sleep  upon  his  breast. 
 
 For  faith  can  make  the  desert  bloom  ; 
 
 And,  through  the  vistas  dim, 
 Love  sees,  in  sunlight  or  in  gloom, 
 
 All  pathways  lead  to  him. 
 
 The  following  is  from  the  "Monthly  Magazine,"  September,  1873  :  — 
 EUTHANASIA. 
 
 "  Let  me  go,  for  the  day  breaketh." 
 
 HPHE  waves  of  light  are  drifting  from  off  the  heavenly  shore, 
 
 The  shadows  all  are  lifting  away  for  evermore  ; 
 Truth,  like  another  morning,  is  beaming  on  my  way  : 
 I  bless  the  Power  that  poureth  in  the  coming  of  the  day. 
 I  feel  a  light  within  me  that  years  can  never  bring: 
 My  heart  is  full  of  blossoming,  it  yearns  to  meet  the  spring. 
 Love  fills  my  soul  in  all  its  deeps,  and  harmony  divine 
 I         eetly  sounding  from  above  a  symphony  sublime  : 
 
330  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 The  earth  is  robed  in  richer  green,  the  sky  in  brighter  blue  ; 
 And,  with  no  cloud  to  intervene,  God's  smile  is  shining  through. 
 I  hear  the  immortal  harps  that  ring  before  the  rainbow  throne. 
 And  a  spirit  from  the  heart  of  God  is  bearing  up  my  own. 
 In  silence  on  the  Olivet  of  prayer  my  being  bends, 
 Till  in  the  orison  of  heaven  my  voice  seraphic  blends. 
 
 THE   SNOW-LINE. 
 
 ly/TUTE  in  the  studio  the  artist  stands, 
 
 The  chisel  fallen  from  his  palsied  hands  ; 
 The  inspiration  from  his  eye  has  flown ; 
 Cold  lies  before  him  the  unsculptured  stone  : 
 But  deep  within  his  patient  genius  waits 
 For  God  to  open  the  immortal  gates. 
 No  change  can  ever  reach,  no  darkness  dim, 
 The  love  and  light  that  are  enshrined  in  him. 
 Oh,  deem  not  then  that  time's  apparent  flight 
 The  fruitage  of  the  spirit  e'er  can  blight  * 
 The  brow  is  silvered  and  the  step  is  slow, 
 But  thought  is  clear,  and  heart  is  all  aglow : 
 For  He  who  breathed  himself  into  the  soul 
 Hath  all  our  seasons  under  his  control, 
 And,  while  without  old  age  a  winter  seems, 
 Within  perennial  summer  on  it  gleams. 
 
 "LEAD   ME." 
 
 From  the  "  Christian  Register,"  Dec.  20,  1873. 
 
 ly/TY  Father,  take  my  hand,  for  I  am  prone 
 
 To  danger,  and  I  fear  to  go  alone. 
 I  trust  thy  guidance.     Father,  take  my  hand  ; 
 Lead  thy  child  safely  through  the  desert  land. 
 The  way  is  dark  before  me  ;  take  my  hand, 
 For  light  can  only  come  at  thy  command. 
 
FREDERIC  AUGUSTUS   WHITNEY.  331 
 
 Clinging  to  thy  dear  love,  no  doubt  I  know, 
 That  love  will  cheer  my  way  where'er  I  go. 
 Father,  the  storm  is  breaking  o'er  me  wild, 
 I  feel  its  bitterness,  protect  thy  child. 
 The  tempest-clouds  are  flying  through  the  air, 
 Oh,  take  my  hand,  and  save  me  from  despair. 
 Father,  as  I  ascend  the  craggy  steep 
 That  leads  me  to  thy  temple,  let  me  keep 
 My  hand  in  thine,  so  I  can  conquer  time 
 And  by  thine  aiding  to  thy  bosom  climb. 
 Father,  I  feel  the  damp  upon  my  brow, 
 The  chill  of  death  is  falling  on  me  now. 
 Soon  from  earth's  flitting  shadows  I  must  part ; 
 My  Father,  take  my  hand,  thou  hast  my  heart. 
 
 FREDERIC   AUGUSTUS   WHITNEY. 
 
 (1812.) 
 
 Rev.  Frederic  A.  Whitney,  son  of  Rev.  Peter  Whitney  and  Jane 
 (Lincoln)  Whitney,  was  born  in  Quincy,  Mass.,  Sept.  18,  1812.  His 
 father,  grandfather,  and  great-grandfather  were  ministers,  each,  nearly 
 fifty  years  and  until  death,  of  the  First  Congregational  Liberal  Churches 
 of  Quincy,  Xorthboro',  and  Petersham,  respectively.  His  brother,  Rev. 
 George  Whitney,  was  one  of  the  Unitarian  ministers  in  Roxbury. 
 
 While  a  student  in  Harvard  College,  he  was  also  a  mathematical 
 tutor  in  the  private  school  of  William  Wells,  of  Cambridge  ;  and  on  gradu- 
 ating, in  1833,  he  was  associated  for  two  years,  as  instructor,  with  Stephen 
 M.  Weld,  in  a  classical  school  at  Jamaica  Plain.  He  graduated  at  the 
 Cambridge  Divinity  School  in  1838,  and  was  afterward  employed  for 
 some  time  by  the  American  Unitarian  Association  in  missionary  service 
 in  Massachusetts,  and  in  the  South  and  West.  He  took  charge  of  the 
 Fir-t  Congregational  Church  at  Brighton,  near  Boston,  in  April,  1843, 
 and  remained  its  pastor  for  sixteen  years.  He  still  resides  there,  often 
 preaching  in  different  places,  and  steadily  pursuing  his  favorite  his- 
 torical and  literary  studies.  He  was  married,  Jan.  II,  1853,  to  Elizabeth 
 Perkins,  daughter  of  the  late  William  Perkins  Matchett,  of  Boston. 
 
 The  titles  of  most  of  his  numerous  published  works  are  given  in  the 
 large  and  admirably  arranged  catalogue,  which,  with  a  dictionary  of 
 pseudonymes  appended,  he  prepared,  in   1872,  for  the  Brighton  Public 
 
332      SONGS   OF   THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 Library.  Of  these  we  may  mention,  An  Historical  Sketch  of  the  Old 
 Church  at  Quincy,  Mass. ;  Biographical  Sketches  of  Josiah  Quincy,  Jr., 
 and  of  John  Hancock  ;  Biography  of  James  Holton,  founder  of  the  Hol- 
 ton  Library ;  Oration  at  the  Dedication  of  the  Soldiers'  Monument  at 
 Brighton,  with  an  historical  Appendix  ;  Biographical  Sketches  of  Sol- 
 diers who  fell  in  the  late  War ;  Address  at  the  Consecration  of  Ever- 
 green Cemetery,  with  an  historical  Appendix  ;  Discourses  at  the  public 
 funerals  of  Madam  Susanna  Park  Champney,  who  died  in  her  95th  year, 
 and  Edward  Sparhawk,  who  died  in  his  97th,  the  genealogy  of  the 
 Champney  and  Park  families  being  given  in  connection  with  the  first  of 
 these  published  addresses  ;  A  Treatise  on  Temperance  ;  Discourse  on 
 the  Early  New  England  Home,  and  Sermon  on  the  death  of  little  chil- 
 dren ;  Nine  Annual  Reports  as  President  of  the  Trustees  of  the  Public 
 Library ;  thirteen  Annual  Reports  as  Chairman  of  the  School  Com- 
 mittee ;  Reports  as  Secretary  of  the  Middlesex  Sunday  School  Society  ; 
 various  articles  in  periodicals  and  reviews,  &c.  All  these  catalogues, 
 biographies,  genealogies,  sketches,  and  reports  abound  in  evidence  of 
 the  most  conscientious  and  painstaking  care  in  their  preparation,  show 
 on  the  part  of  the  writer  a  habit  of  patient  research,  a  remarkable  accu- 
 racy of  statement,  and  a  wide  acquaintance  with  books  and  local  history, 
 and  altogether  form  a  very  valuable  contribution  to  the  department  of 
 literature  to  which  they  belong. 
 
 Mr.  Whitney  has  also  written  some  very  excellent  hymns,  chiefly  for 
 ordination,  installation,  and  dedication  services,  and  other  like  occa- 
 sions.    Of  these  we  select  three. 
 
 "I    HAVE    SET   WATCHMEN    UPON   THY   WALLS." 
 
 Written  for  the  installation  of  Rev.  William  Parsons  Lunt,  as  colleague  pastor  with 
 Rev.  Peter  Whitney,  over  the  First  Congregational  Unitarian  Church,  Quincy,  June  3, 
 1835- 
 
 A  LL-SEEING  One  !  whose  presence  fills 
 "^^  The  glorious  earth  thy  children  tread, 
 Unseen,  the  sacred  shrine  be  near, 
 
 To  which  our  gathering  steps  have  led. 
 The  sacred  shrine, 
 Great  God,  be  near, 
 And,  as  we  bend,  the  offering  hear. 
 
 We  turn  to  thee,  in  humble  trust, 
 
 With  prayer  and  praise,  our  Heavenly  Friend, 
 That  on  this  hour  thy  smiles  may  rest, 
 
 Thy  choicest  influence  may  descend. 
 
FREDERIC  AUGUSTUS   WHITNEY.  333 
 
 Oh,  let  thy  smiles, 
 Great  God,  here  rest, — 
 Thy  blessing,  and  we  shall  be  blessed. 
 
 Lo,  where  thy  elder  servant  stood 
 
 Through  changing  years,  there  still  he  stands  ; 
 To  aid  him  in  the  sacred  cause, 
 
 Another  comes  with  youthful  hands. 
 Him  aid,  Great  God, 
 That  sacred  cause 
 Pursuing  still  by  Heaven's  own  laws. 
 
 Oh,  bless  him,  Father,  bless  him  now, 
 
 With  faith  and  truth  and  hope  and  peace  ; 
 And  as  his  years  shall  onward  roll, 
 Let  not  thy  saving  mercy  cease. 
 As  years  shall  roll, 
 Great  God,  increase 
 His  ardor  and  his  usefulness. 
 
 And  when  at  last  he  binds  his  sheaves, 
 
 His  harvest  labors  o'er  and  blest, 
 The  golden  grain,  Pure  One,  receive, 
 And  call  the  reaper  to  his  rest. 
 The  golden  grain, 
 Great  God,  receive, 
 As  Pastors  flocks  and  temples  leave. 
 
 "AND    IN   THIS    PLACE   WILL    I    GIVE    PEACE." 
 
 Written  for  the  dedication  of  the  new  church  edifice  of  the  First  Congregational 
 Unitarian  Church,  Watertown,  Sept.  7,  1S36. 
 
 'T^O  Thee,  Great  Spirit,  by  whose  will 
 
 Our  labors  have  been  blest, 
 Whose  arm  doth  shield  from  daily  ill, 
 
 Whose  eye  doth  guard  our  rest,  — 
 We  consecrate  this  chosen  place 
 
 An  offering  to  thy  name  ; 
 Here  seek  henceforth  thy  needed  grace, 
 
 Thy  glorious  truth  proclaim. 
 
334  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 Nor  only  here  the  accepted  strain 
 
 Shall  rise,  since  not  alone 
 At  Sychar's  mount,  or  Judah's  fane, 
 
 Thou,  Father,  shalt  be  known  : 
 But  Nature  is  a  temple  now, 
 
 And  all,  who  worship  thee, 
 In  truth  must  worship,  while  they  bow 
 
 The  soul,  as  bow  the  knee. 
 
 Their  service  such,  Pure  One,  attend 
 
 Thy  children's  prayer  above  : 
 In  gladness,  grief,  temptation,  send 
 
 Thy  counsel,  strength,  and  love. 
 Guide  thou  his  steps,  who  leads  our  way 
 
 To  thee,  and  truth  divine  ; 
 Let  all  his  words  thy  will  obey, 
 
 And  all  his  life  be  thine. 
 
 As  Israel  came  to  dedicate 
 
 The  latter  house  of  old, 
 While  holy  priests  were  called  to  wait, 
 
 And  clouds  of  incense  rolled,  — 
 Thy  glory  sanctified  the  hour, 
 
 Thy  Spirit  warmed  each  heart : 
 Thus  ever,  Lord,  in  love  and  power, 
 
 Thy  Spirit  here  impart. 
 
 "PRAY  YE  THEREFORE  THE  LORD  OF  THE 
 HARVEST." 
 
 Written  for  the  Anniversary  Exercises  of  the  Theological  School,  Harvard  University, 
 July  1 8,  1838. 
 
 /^\F  old,  on  priest  and  prophet  came 
 ^-"^     Thy  Spirit's  light,  thy  Spirit's  power ; 
 Of  old  the  altar's  kindled  flame 
 
 Declared  thy  blessing  on  the  hour. 
 
 Thy  servants,  Lord, 
 
 That  power  require, 
 That  light  beam  ever  o'er  their  way ; 
 
 . 
 
JONES   VERY.  335 
 
 On  waiting  hearts 
 A  holier  fire 
 Than  fell  on  Carmel  fall  this  day  ! 
 
 In  death  as  faithful  pastors  sleep, 
 
 On  us  their  mantling  spirit  spread  ; 
 While  whitened  harvests  still  we  reap, 
 
 Where  lived  and  toiled  the  sainted  dead. 
 
 Be  ever  nigh, 
 
 All  grace  impart, 
 To  teach  thy  truth,  to  speed  thy  will : 
 
 Lord,  purify 
 
 The  worldly  heart ; 
 The  empty,  famished  spirit  fill. 
 
 Then  bear  our  Leader's  standard  high, 
 Wide  let  it  wave  o'er  land  and  sea  ; 
 Till  tongues  shall  cease,  till  time  shall  die, 
 Its  blessed  folds,  unfurled  and  free, 
 
 Be  found  where  care 
 
 And  doubt  and  strife, 
 Where  sin  and  death  their  shadows  fling ; 
 
 Who  wins  shall  wear 
 
 A  crown  of  life, 
 While  heavenly  choirs  their  paean  sing. 
 
 JONES   VERY. 
 (1813.) 
 
 Rev.  Jones  Very  was  born  in  Salem,  Mass.,  Aug.  28,  18 13.  His 
 parents  were  Captain  Jones  Very,  shipmaster,  and  Lydia  Very.  The 
 father  and  mother  were  cousins,  the  former  being  the  son  of  Captain 
 Isaac  Very,  and  the  latter  the  daughter  of  Captain  Samuel  Very.  In 
 1823  and  1824  the  subject  of  our  sketch  accompanied  his  father  on  the 
 last  two  voyages  which  the  latter  made  to  Europe.  He  graduated  at 
 Harvard  College  in  1836,  with  the  second  honors  of  Commencement  Day  ; 
 served  as  Greek  tutor  in  that  institution  for  the  two  following  years,  was 
 approbated  as  a  preacher  by  the  Cambridge  Association  in  1843,  ^d  since 
 
33^  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FATTH. 
 
 that  time  has  continued  in  that  vocation,  although  without  a  pastoral 
 charge.  He  resides  in  Salem  with  his  two  sisters,  Frances  Eliza  and 
 Lydia  Louisa  Ann,  and  devotes  his  time  principally  to  literary  pursuits. 
 
 In  1839  he  published  a  volume  of  "  Essays  and  Poems,"  and  from 
 then  until  now  has  contributed  a  large  number  of  his  productions,  chiefly 
 poetical,  to  the  "Salem  Gazette,"  the  "Salem  Observer,"  the  "Christian 
 Register,"  and  the  "Monthly  Magazine."  From  this  volume  and  these 
 papers  or  periodicals  have  been  taken  the  various  hymns,  which,  with  cer- 
 tain alterations  made  by  him  or  by  the  compilers,  have  been  introduced 
 with  his  name  into  the  Collections.  His  verse  is  characterized  by  a 
 remarkable  purity  and  delicacy  of  thought,  and  great  ease  and  simplicity 
 of  style,  while  it  breathes  the  spirit  of  a  sweet  and  loving  trust,  and  is 
 pervaded  by  a  fine,  subtle  sense  of  the  enduring  realities.  In  very  many 
 of  his  poems  there  is  the  unmistakable  element  or  master-touch  that 
 belongs  to  the  higher  order  of  genius.  A  writer  has  described  them  as 
 "indicating  an  appreciative  love  of  nature  and  a  deep  religious  feeling, 
 with  a  tendency  towards  mysticism."  There  is  great  need  of  a  new  and 
 full  edition  of  the  offerings  of  this  retiring  and  unobtrusive,  but  gifted  and 
 spiritual  bard  of  Salem. 
 
 In  copying  some  of  the  hymns  and  sonnets  contained  in  his  "  Essays 
 and  Poems,"  we  first  present  three  of  them  in  the  altered  form  which 
 the  writer  himself  authorized  or  approved  to  adapt  them  to  church  use, 
 without  any  other  omission  or  change  which  compilers  may  have  since 
 made  and  perpetuated.  In  this  form  they  first  appeared,  we  believe,  in 
 the  "Book  of  Hymns,"  except  that  the  headings  are  here  given  as  they 
 are  found  in  "Essays  and  Poems." 
 
 THE    SON. 
 
 "P  AT  HER  !  I  wait  thy  word.     The -sun  doth  stand 
 
 Beneath  the  mingling  line  of  night  and  day, 
 A  listening  servant,  waiting  thy  command, 
 To  roll  rejoicing  on  its  silent  way. 
 
 The  tongue  of  time  abides  the  appointed  hour, 
 Till  on  our  ear  its  solemn  warnings  fall  ; 
 
 The  heavy  cloud  withholds  the  pelting  shower,  — 
 Then  every  drop  speeds  onward  at  thy  call. 
 
 The  bird  reposes  on  the  yielding  bough, 
 
 With  breast  unswollen  by  the  tide  of  song ;  — 
 
 So  does  my  spirit  wait  thy  presence  now, 
 To  pour  thy  praise  in  quickening  life  along. 
 
JONES   VERY.  337 
 
 THE    STIRIT-LAND. 
 
 TZjWTHER!  Thy  wonders  do  not  singly  stand, 
 
 Nor  far  removed  where  feet  have  seldom  strayed  ; 
 Around  us  ever  lies  the  enchanted  land, 
 
 In  marvels  rich  to  thine  own  sons  displayed. 
 
 In  finding  thee  are  all  things  round  us  found  ; 
 
 In  losing  thee  are  all  things  lost  beside  ; 
 Ears  have  we,  but  in  vain  sweet  voices  sound, 
 
 And  to  our  eyes  the  vision  is  denied. 
 
 Open  our  eyes  that  we  that  world  may  see  ! 
 
 Open  our  ears  that  we  thy  voice  may  hear  ! 
 And  in  the  spirit-land  may  ever  be, 
 
 And  feel  thy  presence  with  us  always  near. 
 
 No  more  to  wander  'mid  the  things  of  time, 
 No  more  to  suffer  death  or  earthly  change  ; 
 
 But,  with  the  Christian's  joy  and  faith  sublime, 
 Through  all  thy  vast,  eternal  scenes  to  range. 
 
 CHANGE. 
 
 TjWTHER,  there  is  no  change  to  live  with  thee, 
 Save  that  in  Christ  I  grow  from  day  to  day  ; 
 In  each  new  word  I  hear,  each  thing  I  see, 
 I  but  rejoicing  hasten  on  my  way. 
 
 The  morning  comes,  with  blushes  overspread, 
 And  I,  new-wakened,  find  a  morn  within  ; 
 
 And  in  its  modest  dawn  around  me  shed, 
 
 Thou  hear'st  the  prayer  and  the  ascending  hymn. 
 
 Hour  follows  hour,  the  lengthening  shades  descend, 
 Yet  they  could  never  reach  as  far  as  me, 
 
 Did  not  thy  love  its  kind  protection  lend, 
 
 That  I,  thy  child,  might  sleep  in  peace  with  thee. 
 
338  SONGS  OF   THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 The  next  four  pieces  are  also  from  the  "Essays  and  Poems."  The 
 first  one  of  these,  with  the  exception  of  the  fourth  stanza,  appeared  in 
 the  "Book  of  Hymns,"  and  has  since  passed  into  various  other  Collec- 
 tions, and  has  become  a  favorite  with  many  of  our  churches.  We  pre- 
 sent this  exquisitely  beautiful  hymn  in  its  entire  form. 
 
 THE    PRAYER. 
 
 TT71LT  Thou  not  visit  me  ? 
 
 The  plant  beside  me  feels  Thy  gentle  dew ; 
 Each  blade  of  grass  I  see 
 From  Thy  deep  earth  its  quickening  moisture  drew. 
 
 Wilt  Thou  not  visit  me  ? 
 Thy  morning  calls  on  me  with  cheering  tone ; 
 
 And  every  hill  and  tree 
 Lend  but  one  voice,  the  voice  of  Thee  alone. 
 
 Come  !  for  I  need  Thy  love, 
 More  than  the  flower  the  dew,  or  grass  the  rain  ; 
 
 Come,  like  Thy  holy  dove, 
 And  let  me  in  Thy  sight  rejoice  to  live  again.    , 
 
 I  will  not  hide  from  them, 
 When  Thy  storms  come,  though  fierce  may  be  their 
 wrath  ; 
 
 But  bow  with  leafy  stem, 
 And  strengthened  follow  on  Thy  chosen  path. 
 
 Yes,  Thou  wilt  visit  me  ; 
 Nor  plant  nor  tree  Thy  eye  delights  so  well, 
 
 As  when,  from  sin  set  free, 
 Man's  spirit  comes  with  Thine  in  peace  to  dwell. 
 
 BEAUTY. 
 
 f"   GAZED  upon  thy  face,  —  and  beating  life 
 Once  stilled  its  sleepless  pulses  in  my  breast, 
 And  every  thought  whose  being  was  a  strife 
 Each  in  its  silent  chamber  sank  to  rest ; 
 
 , 
 
JOXES    VERY.  339 
 
 I  was  not,  save  it  were  a  thought  of  thee  ; 
 
 The  world  was  but  a  spot  where  thou  hadst  trod  ; 
 From  every  star  thy  glance  seemed  fixed  on  me: 
 
 Almost  I  love  thee  better  than  my  God. 
 And  still  I  gaze,  —  but  'tis  a  holier  thought 
 
 Than  that  in  which  my  spirit  lived  before, 
 Each  star  a  purer  ray  of  love  has  caught, 
 
 Earth  wears  a  lovelier  robe  than  then  it  wore, 
 And  every  lamp  that  burns  around  thy  shrine 
 Is  fed  with  fire  whose  fountain  is  divine. 
 
 THE    NEW   BIRTH. 
 
 "T^IS  a  new  life  ;  — thoughts  move  not  as  they  did 
 
 With  slow  uncertain  steps  across  my  mind, 
 In  thronging  haste  fast  pressing  on  they  bid 
 
 The  portals  open  to  the  viewless  wind 
 That  comes  not  save  when  in  the  dust  is  laid 
 
 The  crown  of  pride  that  gilds  each  mortal  brow, 
 And  from  before  man's  vision  melting  fade 
 
 The  heavens  and  earth  ;  —  their  walls  are  falling  now. 
 Fast  crowding  on,  each  thought  asks  utterance  strong ; 
 
 Storm-lifted  waves  swift  rushing  to  the  shore, 
 On  from  the  sea  they  send  their  shouts  along, 
 
 Back  through  the  cave-worn  rocks  their  thunders  roar; 
 And  I  a  child  of  God,  by  Christ  made  free, 
 Start  from  death's  slumbers  to  Eternity. 
 
 THE    PRESENCE. 
 
 ["   SIT  within  my  room,  and  joy  to  find 
 
 That  Thou  who  always  lov'st  art  with  me  here, 
 That  I  am  never  left  by  Thee  behind, 
 
 But  by  Thyself  Thou  keep'st  me  ever  near  ; 
 The  fire  burns  brighter  when  with  Thee  I  look, 
 
 And  seems  a  kinder  servant  sent  to  me ; 
 With  gladder  heart  I  read  Thy  holy  book, 
 Because  Thou  art  the  eyes  by  which  I  see ; 
 
340  SONGS  OF   THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 This  aged  chair,  that  table,  watch  and  door 
 Around  in  ready  service  ever  wait ; 
 
 Nor  can  I  ask  of  Thee  a  menial  more, 
 To  fill  the  measure  of  my  large  estate, 
 
 For  Thou  Thyself,  with  all  a  father's  care, 
 Where'er  I  turn,  art  ever  with  me  there. 
 
 The  pieces  which  follow  are  not  contained  in  the  "  Essays  and  Poems,' 
 but  are  of  later  origin. 
 
 THE    LIGHT   WITHIN. 
 
 From  the  "  Book  of  Hymns." 
 
 T  SAW  on  earth  another  light 
 
 Than  that  which  lit  mine  eye 
 Come  forth,  as  from  the  soul  within, 
 And  from  a  higher  sky. 
 
 Its  beams  still  shone  unclouded  on, 
 
 When,  in  the  distant  west, 
 The  sun  I  once  had  known  had  sunk 
 
 Forever  to  his  rest. 
 
 And  on  I  walked,  though  dark  the  night, 
 
 Nor  rose  his  orb  by  day  ; 
 As  one  to  whom  a  surer  guide 
 
 W7as  pointing  out  the  way. 
 
 'Twas  brighter  far  than  noonday's  beam, 
 
 It  shone  from  God  within, 
 And  lit,  as  by  a  lamp  from  heaven, 
 
 The  world's  dark  track  of  sin. 
 
 AS   YE   SOW,    SO    SHALL  YE   REAP. 
 
 From  the  "  Book  of  Hymns." 
 
 rFHE  bud  will  soon  become  a  flower, 
 
 The  flower  become  a  seed  ; 
 Then  seize,  O  youth,  the  present  hour,  — 
 Of  that  thou  hast  most  need. 
 
JONES   VERY.  34 
 
 Do  thy  best  always,  —  do  it  now,  — 
 
 For  in  the  present  time, 
 As  in  the  furrows  of  a  plough, 
 
 Fall  seeds  of  good  or  crime. 
 
 The  sun  and  rain  will  ripen  fast 
 
 Each  seed  that  thou  hast  sown ; 
 And  every  act  and  word  at  last 
 
 By  its  own  fruit  be  known. 
 
 And  soon  the  harvest  of  thy  toil 
 
 Rejoicing  thou  shalt  reap  ; 
 Or  o'er  thy  wild,  neglected  soil 
 
 Go  forth  in  shame  to  weep. 
 
 THE    HOURS. 
 
 From  Bulfinch's  "  Harp  and  Cross." 
 
 r  I  "HE  minutes  have  their  trusts  as  they  go  by 
 
 To  bear  His  love  who  wings  their  viewless  flight 
 To  Him  they  bear  their  record  as  they  fly, 
 
 And  never  from  their  ceaseless  round  alight. 
 Rich  with  the  life  thou  liv'st  they  come  to  me : 
 
 Oh,  may  I  all  that  life  to  others  show, 
 That  they  from  strife  may  rise  and  rest  in  Thee, 
 
 And  all  Thy  peace  in  Christ  by  me  may  know,  — 
 Then  shall  the  morning  call  me  from  my  rest, 
 
 With  joyful  hope  that  I  thy  child  may  live  ; 
 And  when  the  evening  comes,  'twill  make  me  blest, 
 
 To  know  that  Thou  wilt  peaceful  slumbers  give, 
 Such  as  Thou  dost  to  weary  laborers  send, 
 Whose  sleep  from  Thee  doth  with  the  dews  descend. 
 
 Copies  of  the  following  hymns,  not  all  of  which  have  been  published 
 before,  have  been  received  from  the  writer  as  an  additional  contribution 
 to  this  volume.  The  fine  closing  piece,  "The  Coming  of  the  Lord/'  had 
 been  just  finished  as  the  manuscript  was  placed  in  our  hands. 
 
342  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 THE    DEW. 
 
 ^'IS  not  the  copious  rains  alone, 
 Which  bless  the  parched  soil ; 
 The  gentle  dews,  that  nightly  fall, 
 Reward  the  sower's  toil. 
 
 Unseen,  unheard,  the  dews  descend, 
 
 Like  slumber  on  the  mind  ; 
 And  on  the  thirsty  hills  and  fields 
 
 A  blessing  leave  behind. 
 
 In  the  cool  stillness  of  the  night, 
 
 The  drooping  plants  revive  ; 
 The  grass,  and  every  tender  herb, 
 
 With  their  sweet  influence  thrive. 
 
 See,  lifted  on  each  pointed  blade, 
 How  bright  the  dewdrops  shine  ! 
 
 And  learn,  in  trusting,  humble  faith, 
 To  trace  the  Hand  Divine. 
 
 That,  though  no  clouds  their  fulness  drop, 
 
 In  answer  to  our  prayer, 
 Still  we  may  own,  from  day  to  day, 
 
 Our  God  for  us  doth  care. 
 
 THE    EFFICACY   OF   A   MOTHER'S    PRAYER. 
 
 T3RAY,  mother,  for  thy  prayer  may  keep 
 
 Thy  child  in  virtue's  way ; 
 A  blessed  harvest  he  shall  reap," 
 For  whom  thou  oft  dost  pray. 
 
 'Twill  bless  him  in  his  early  days, 
 
 And  consecrate  his  home  ; 
 'Twill  bless  him  'mid  the  world's  rough  ways, 
 
 And  wheresoe'er  he  roam. 
 
JOXES    VERY.  343 
 
 Through  manhood  e'en  to  life's  last  close, 
 
 Thy  prayers  shall  counsel,  guide  ; 
 Keep  pure  his  heart  from  deadly  foes, 
 
 From  hatred,  lust,  and  pride. 
 
 Pray,  mother,  for  thy  prayer  has  power 
 
 To  help,  to  save,  thy  child  j 
 To  give  him  strength  in  evil  hour, 
 
 By  pleasure's  voice  beguiled. 
 
 And  pray,  O  pray,  when,  erring,  frail, 
 
 Thy  feeble  child  may  fall  ; 
 Thy  prayer,  thy  faith  may  still  prevail, 
 
 And  back  to  life  recall. 
 
 For  God  the  prayer  of  faith  doth  hear, 
 
 And  answer  from  on  high  ; 
 To  those  who  seek  him,  he  is  near, 
 
 Nor  will  their  quest  deny. 
 
 OUR   SOLDIERS'  GRAVES. 
 
 CTREW  all  their  graves  with  flowers, 
 
 They  for  their  country  died  ; 
 And  freely  gave  their  lives  for  ours, 
 Their  country's  hope  and  pride. 
 
 Bring  flowers  to  deck  each  sod, 
 
 Where  rests  their  sacred  dust ; 
 Though  gone  from  earth,  they  live  to  God, 
 
 Their  everlasting  trust ! 
 
 Fearless,  in  Freedom's  cause 
 They  suffered,  toiled,  and  bled  ; 
 
 And  died,  obedient  to  her  laws, 
 By  truth  and  conscience  led. 
 
 Oft  as  the  year  returns, 
 
 She  o'er  their  graves  shall  weep  ; 
 And  wreathe  with  flowers  their  funeral  urns, 
 
 Their  memory  dear  to  keep. 
 
344  SONGS   OF  THE  LIBERAL   FAITH. 
 
 Bring  flowers  of  early  spring 
 To  deck  each  soldier's  grave, 
 
 And  summer's  fragrant  roses  bring,  — 
 They  died  our  land  to  save. 
 
 THE    PROMISE    OF    THE    SPIRIT. 
 
 T17HEN  from  their  sight  the  Saviour  went, 
 
 To  dwell  no  more  upon  the  earth, 
 The  Spirit  to  his  own  he  sent, 
 
 And  souls  were  born  of  heavenly  birth. 
 
 He  left  them  not  as  orphans  here, 
 To  mourn  their  sad  and  bitter  fate  ; 
 
 But  gave  them  promises  to  cheer, 
 
 While  in  the  world,  their  lonely  state. 
 
 "  My  Father  greater  is  than  I, 
 
 I  will  not  leave  you  here  alone ; 
 But  send  the  Spirit  from  on  high, 
 
 And  you,  in  me,  shall  still  be  one." 
 
 Sweet  promise  to  the  mourning  Bride, 
 The  Church,  that  mourns  her  absent  Lord ! 
 
 While  in  his  love  we  still  abide, 
 He  will  fulfil  his  parting  word. 
 
 Henceforth  no  more  let  Christians  mourn  ; 
 
 They  hear  again  the  Bridegroom's  voice, 
 From  heavenly  heights  of  glory  borne, 
 
 Which  bids  them  with  himself  rejoice. 
 
 So  faith,  and  joy,  and  peace,  and  love 
 
 Become  our  heritage  below  j 
 Descending,  like  the  holy  dove, 
 
 On  all  who  Christ's  obedience  know. 
 
JONES   VERY.  345 
 
 CHILDHOOD'S    SONGS. 
 
 T  HEAR  again  my  childhood's  songs, 
 When  life  was  bright  and  fair  ; 
 Their  melodies  my  spirit  hears, 
 They  float  upon  the  air. 
 
 In  far-off  realms  I  seem  to  stray, 
 'Mid  childhood's  early  flowers  ; 
 
 And  all  my  weariness  forget, 
 Amid  its  happy  bowers. 
 
 My  mother's  voice,  it  comes  again 
 So  clear,  and  pure,  and  sweet, 
 
 I  seem  a  little  child  to  be, 
 And  listening  at  her  feet. 
 
 They  cheer  and  soothe  my  sinking  heart, 
 As  if  from  heaven  they  came  j 
 
 In  manhood,  as  in  youthful  hours, 
 Their  power  is  still  the  same. 
 
 A  power  to  purify,  and  bless, 
 
 And  thus  my  soul  prepare  ; 
 With  those  I  loved  in  early  days, 
 
 The  life  of  heaven  to  share. 
 
 H 
 
 HOW   COME   THE    DEAD. 
 
 ( )W  come  the  dead  ?  we  anxious  ask 
 
 When,  parting  from  our  sight, 
 The  spirit  leaves  its  earthly  home, 
 To  dwell  in  realms  of  light 
 
 ■&■ 
 
 How  come  the  dead  ?     Shall  we  no  more 
 The  friends  we  love  behold  ; 
 
 Nor  clasp  again  within  our  arms 
 Their  forms  so  still  and  cold  ? 
 
346  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 The  very  question  that  we  ask 
 
 May  its  own  answer  give  ; 
 Is  it  the  mortal  that  we  mourn  ? 
 
 Our  friends  immortal  live  ! 
 
 They  come,  though  unperceived  by  sense, 
 Through  memory's  open  door ;. 
 
 We  see  their  looks,  their  voices  hear, 
 Familiar  as  before. 
 
 They  come  ;  for  hope  will  whisper  still, 
 
 Undying  in  the  heart, 
 That  friends  who  love  shall  meet  again, 
 
 Meet  nevermore  to  part. 
 
 And  faith,  with  heaven-directed  gaze, 
 As  seeing  things  concealed, 
 
 Declares  the  dead,  with  Christ,  shall  come, 
 When  he  shall  be  revealed. 
 
 THE    COMING    OF    THE    LORD. 
 
 Take  ye  heed,  watch  and  pray :  for  ye  know  not  when  the  time  is."  —  Mark  xiii.  33. 
 
 (^OME  suddenly,  O  Lord,  or  slowly  come, 
 
 I  wait  thy  will,  thy  servant  ready  is  ; 
 Thou  hast  prepared  thy  follower  a  home, 
 
 Tl-»o    liooiron     in     Txrl-ii/^n    t1-»r\n     A  turol  1  act    +r^f\    ic    Viio 
 
 The  heaven  in  which  thou  dwellest  too  is  his. 
 
 Come  in  the  morn,  at  noon,  or  midnight  deep  ; 
 
 Come,  for  thy  servant  still  doth  watch,  and  pray ; 
 E'en  when  the  world  around  is  sunk  in  sleep, 
 
 I  wake,  and  long  to  see  thy  glorious  day. 
 
 I  would  not  fix  the  time,  the  day,  nor  hour, 
 When  thou  with  all  thine  angels  shalt  appear  ; 
 
 When  in  thy  kingdom  thou  shalt  come  with  power, 
 E'en  now,  perhaps,  the  promised  day  is  near ! 
 
CYRUS  AUGUSTUS  BARTOL.  347 
 
 For  though  in  slumber  deep  the  world  may  lie, 
 And  e'en  thy  Church  forget  thy  great  command, 
 
 Still  year  by  year  thy  coming  draweth  nigh, 
 And  in  its  power  thy  kingdom  is  at  hand. 
 
 Not  in  some  future  world  alone  'twill  be, 
 
 Beyond  the  grave,  beyond  the  bounds  of  time  ; 
 
 But  on  the  earth  thy  glory  we  shall  see, 
 
 And  share  thy  triumph,  peaceful,  pure,  sublime. 
 
 Lord  !  help  me  that  I  faint  not,  weary  grow, 
 Nor  at  thy  coming  slumber  too,  and  sleep  ; 
 
 For  thou  hast  promised,  and  full  well  I  know 
 Thou  wilt  to  us  thy  word  of  promise  keep. 
 
 CYRUS  AUGUSTUS  BARTOL. 
 
 (1813.) 
 
 Rev.  Cyrus  A.  Bartol,  D.D.,  was  born  at  Freeport,  Me.,  April  30, 
 1813.  He  graduated  at  Bowdoin  College  in  1832,  and  at  the  Cambridge 
 Divinity  School  in  1S35.  He  was  settled  as  colleague  pastor  with  the 
 Rev.  Charles  Lowell,  U.D.,  of  the  "West  Church,  Boston,  March  1,  1837. 
 Since  Dr.  Lowell's  death  in  1861,  Dr.  Bartol  has  been  sole  pastor  of  this 
 ancient  church,  of  which  William  Hooper  was  the  first  minister,  and 
 the  second  was  the  celebrated  Jonathan  Mayhew,  whom  Judge  Paine 
 declared  to  be  the  "father  of  civil  and  religious  liberty  in  Massachusetts 
 and  America,"  and  who,  Dr.  Bartol  says,  was  "the  first  openly  to  pro- 
 claim on  these  shores  the  sublime  doctrine  of  the  strict  and  undivided 
 Unity  of  God."  Elsewhere  in  this  volume  it  has  been  remarked  that  Dr. 
 Freeman,  of  Boston,  was,  at  a  later  day,  the  first  to  preach  Unitarianism 
 under  that  distinctive  name. 
 
 Beside  publishing  a  great  variety  of  pamphlet  discourses  and  articles 
 for  leading  magazines,  Dr.  Bartol  has  given  to  the  press  numerous  vol- 
 umes of  a  theological  or  religious  character,  all  of  which  have  been  marked 
 by  the  extraordinary  intellectual  brilliancy  and  spiritual  power  for  which 
 he  is  distinguished.  These  are,  "Discourses  on  the  Christian  Spirit 
 and  Life,"  1850  ;  "Discourses  on  the  Christian  Body  and  Form,"  1853  ; 
 "  Pictures  of  Europe,"  a  work  combining  a  series  of  graphic  sketches 
 of  the  author's  European  travels,  with  philosophical  reflections,  1855; 
 
r. 
 
 348  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 "West  Church  and  its  Ministers,"  1856;  "Church  and  Congregation," 
 1858;  "The  Word  of  the  Spirit  to  the  Church,"  1859;  "  Radical  Prob- 
 lems," 1872  ;  and  "  The  Rising  Faith,"  1874.  He  received  the  degree  of 
 D.D.  from  Harvard  College  in  1859. 
 
 Assisted  by  Charles  G.  Loring,  Joseph  Willard,  and  others  in  his 
 society,  Dr.  Bartol  compiled  for  use  in  his  own  church  "  Hymns  for  the 
 Sanctuary,"  1849.  This  took  the  place  of  the  book  which  is  generally 
 known  as  the  "  West  Boston  Collection,"  and  which  was  long  used  dur- 
 ing Dr.  Lowell's  ministry.  The  latter,  again,  was  preceded  by  an  edition 
 of  Tate  and  Brady.  We  are  not  aware  that  in  the  "  Hymns  for  the 
 Sanctuary  "  is  to  be  found  any  hymn  which  the  principal  compiler  him- 
 self contributed  to  the  store  of  sacred  song.  But  from  other  sources  we 
 gather  various  hymns  or  poems  which  he  has  written,  and  which,  marked 
 as  they  are  by  the  author's  well-known  striking  originality  of  thought  and 
 highly  poetic  imagination,  our  readers,  we  are  sure,  will  be  glad  to  see 
 brought  together  here. 
 
 At  the  beginning  and  close  of  his  admirable  "  Pictures  of  Europe  " 
 are  two  very  fine  poems,  entitled  "  The  Two  Journeys,"  and  "  The 
 Guide  ;  "  while  the  fifteen  or  twenty  chapters  in  the  volume  are  intro- 
 duced each  by  some  brief  lines  that  are  full  of  meaning  and  beauty. 
 Three  of  these  shorter  pieces  are  here  presented. 
 
 BEAUTY   OF   THE   WORLD. 
 
 "DEHOLD, —  but  motes  of  animated  dust, — 
 The  sons  of  men  upon  this  whirling  ball ! 
 Yet  to  each  mote,  O  Thou,  in  whom  we  trust, 
 Lord  of  the  sphere  so  vast,  dost  show  it  all. 
 
 Still  brooding  over  beauty,  thou  dost  bend, 
 In  thy  delight  dost  our  delight  intend  : 
 Immense  the  scale,  —  how  graceful  still  thy  work  ! 
 In  smallest  things  unmeasured  grandeurs  lurk. 
 
 For  no  fond  favors,  Father  of  mankind  ! 
 We  bless  thee,  but  for  thine  impartial  mind  : 
 Thanks  for  the  equal  splendor  of  the  sun  ; 
 Thanks  for  thy.  love  to  all,  respect  to  none. 
 
CYRUS  AUGUSTUS  BARTOL.  349 
 
 THE    MOUNTAINS. 
 
 /^\LD  mountains  !  dim  and  gray  ye  rise 
 
 As  ceaseless  prayer,  —  earth's  sacrifice  ! 
 Sharing  your  breath,  the  soul  adores, 
 And  with  your  soaring  summits  soars. 
 
 Where  Moses  taught,  where  Jesus  trod, 
 
 Your  tops  stand  altars  unto  God. 
 
 O  shapes  of  glory,  sacred  all, 
 
 From  every  height  heaven's  blessings  fall. 
 
 The  minaret  watchman's  punctual  cry 
 Summons  loud  worship  to  the  sky ; 
 Voiceless  appeals,  from  you  sent  down, 
 A  million  silent  throbbings  own. 
 
 Ten  lines  introduce  the  chapter  on  "The  Enduring  Kingdom."  Dr. 
 Bartol  has  favored  us  by  slightly  changing  the  ninth  line,  and  adding  two 
 others,  thus  giving  to  the  whole  more  of  the  hymn-form,  and  adapting  it 
 to  wider  use. 
 
 THE   ENDURING   KINGDOM. 
 
 'T^H ROUGH  haughty  realms  that  low  and  wasted  lie, 
 
 Through  royal  ranks  that  march  in  haste  to  die, 
 An  empire,  with  no  touch  of  earthly  fate, 
 Grows  on  to  boundless  reach  and  endless  date. 
 
 No  gilded  throne  its  lowly  founder  rears  ; 
 
 -word  or  sceptre  stretches  for  our  fears ; 
 His  purple  robe,  the  crimson  on  his  head, 
 Tells  of  no  hearts  he  bruised,  no  blood  he  shed. 
 
 His  glories,  shared  with  servants,  kings  affright, 
 And  crowns  are  turned  to  relics  at  his  sight : 
 Our  track  is  toward  him  on  the  rolling  sphere, 
 Till  seekers  in  past  story  find  him  here. 
 
350  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 JUBILEE    HYMN. 
 
 Sung  at  the  celebration  of  the  Fiftieth  Anniversary  of  the  ordination  of  Dr.  Lowell, 
 January,  1856.  The  hymn  may  be  found  in  the  record  of  the  proceedings  of  that  occasion 
 as  published  in  the  "  West  Church  and  its  Ministers." 
 
 r\  ISRAEL  !  at  the  trumpet  turn  ; 
 ^-"^     From  toil  set  every  household  free  ; 
 While  priests  with  people  meet,  and  burn 
 To  share  the  long-hoped  jubilee. 
 
 Let  royal  psalms  all  ranks  rejoice, 
 Each  alien  take  his  ancient  ground, 
 
 The  loosened  bondmen  lift  their  voice, 
 The  lowliest  Hebrew  head  be  crowned ! 
 
 Through  fifty  over- arching  years, 
 Their  sorrows  are  a  fleeting  shade  ; 
 
 Fall  now  like  far-off  rain  their  tears  ; 
 In  mercy's  light  their  miseries  fade. 
 
 A  Christian  jubilee  we  sing : 
 
 Guided  in  gloom,  in  grief  consoled, 
 
 Through  half  a  century's  crowded  ring 
 Our  countless  flock  yet  seeks  one  fold. 
 
 The  church  and  shepherd,  joined  by  God, 
 
 A  golden  wedding  celebrate  ; 
 With  joy  that  flowers  upon  his  rod, 
 
 And  peace  out-blooming  earthly  date. 
 
 Fast  by  your  heritage  still  stand, 
 
 Ye  children  !  for  the  past  give  praise  ; 
 
 Our  younger  with  the  elder  band 
 
 Breathe  vows  of  love  to  endless  days. 
 
 The  two  hymns  which  immediately  follow  are  from  a  small  volume  of 
 prayers  and  hymns  for  the  children  of  the  church,  entitled  "  Children's 
 Praise,"  which  was  published  in  1858,  and  which  we  believe  was 
 specially  designed  for  Dr.   Bartol's   own  Sunday  School. 
 
CYRUS  AUGUSTUS  BARTOL.  35  I 
 
 MORNING   AND   EVENING    PRAISE. 
 
 "  It  is  a  Rood  thing  to  give  thanks  unto  the  Lord,  and  to  sing  praisee  unto  thy  name, 
 O  Most  High.  To  shew  forth  thy  loving-kindness  in  the  morning,  and  thy  faithfulness 
 every  night." 
 
 /^OD  of  the  morning  and  the  night, 
 
 Morning  and  night  thy  mercies  bring ; 
 Our  mornings,  of  thy  face  the  light, 
 Our  evenings,  shadows  of  thy  wing. 
 
 Life's  morn  and  eve,  thy  light  and  shade  ; 
 
 Our  being  wakes  to  sleep  at  death, 
 Till  dawn  of  endless  day  be  made 
 
 For  us  to  draw  immortal  breath. 
 
 THE    CHILDREN    IN    THE    TEMPLE. 
 
 1  Children  crying  in  the  Temple,  and  saying,  Hosanna  to  the  Son  of  David.' 
 
 TTOSANNA  unto  David's  Son  ! 
 The  Hebrew  offspring  cry  ; 
 Hosanna  to  the  lowly  One  ! 
 The  Gentile  youth  reply. 
 
 Hosanna  for  his  blessings  given  ! 
 
 Sang  such  as  felt  his  hand  ; 
 Hosanna,  touched  by  Him  from  heaven, 
 
 Sings  our  still  blessed  band. 
 
 Bright  with  the  face  of  God,  he  shows 
 
 Our  angels'  guardian  ranks  ; 
 Hosanna  !  —  as  to  them  he  goes, 
 
 We  greet  him  with  our  thanks. 
 
 From  East  to  West,  in  shrines  of  praise, 
 
 As  in  the  courts  above, 
 We  children  our  hosannas  raise, 
 
 He  breathed  for  us  such  love  ! 
 
 Kingdom,  of  which  he  said  we  are, 
 
 Below  or  in  the  skies, 
 Come  shine  in  glory  thence  afar, 
 
 Until  our  spirits  rise  ! 
 
352 
 
 SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 ON   VISITING   MY   HOME   AFTER   FORTY  YEARS. 
 
 From  "  Old  and  New,"  April,  1870. 
 
 "PNTRANCED  among  the  rocks  and  trees, 
 
 I  wander  to  and  fro, 
 In  sweet  oblivion  with  the  breeze 
 And  forty  years  ago. 
 
 My  birth-place  works  the  charm  of  power  : 
 
 Boyhood  alone  I  know  ; 
 My  life  is  crowded  to  an  hour,  — 
 
 'Tis  forty  years  ago. 
 
 I  have  not  bought,  I  have  not  sold  ; 
 
 Yet  breathes,  with  whisper  low, 
 Wonder  new-born  from  stories  told 
 
 Me  forty  years  ago. 
 
 No  weight  I  feel  of  care  or  sin  ; 
 
 My  sorrows  off  I  throw  : 
 Remorse  has  fled,  doubt  has  not  been  ;  — 
 
 'Tis  forty  years  ago. 
 
 I  am  no  husband,  father,  priest, 
 
 No  rival  see,  or  foe  ; 
 I  sit  the  smallest  at  the  feast ; 
 
 'Tis  forty  years  ago. 
 
 The  timid  thrush  sings  where  I  tread ; 
 
 Roses  fresh  welcome  blow, 
 And  swing  their  censers  o'er  my  head, 
 
 As  forty  years  ago. 
 
 The  sea  and  sand,  the  brook,  the  shore, 
 
 Hill-top  and  meadow  low, 
 I  find  no  atom  less  or  more 
 
 Than  forty  years  ago. 
 
CHARLES  T.   BROOKS.  353 
 
 O'er  Alpine  pass,  through  halls  of  art, 
 
 No  more  can  memory  flow, 
 While  present  glory  fills  my  heart, 
 
 From  forty  years  ago. 
 
 O  maze  of  joy  !  from  mates  at  play, 
 
 Or  learning  in  a  row, 
 War's  distant  thunder  rolls  away, 
 
 With  forty  years  ago. 
 
 Will  He,  that  shines  through  all  life's  gloom, 
 
 And  heightens  all  its  glow, 
 In  dateless  heaven  not  find  some  room 
 
 For  forty  years  ago  ? 
 
 CHARLES    T.    BROOKS. 
 (1813) 
 
 Rev  Charles  T.  Brooks  was  born  in  Salem,  Mass.,  June  20,  1813. 
 He  graduated  at  Harvard  College  in  1832,  and  spent  the  next  three  years 
 at  the  Divinity  School,  Cambridge.  He  began  to  preach  at  Nahant  in 
 the  summer  of  1835,  and  subsequently  officiated  at  Bangor  and  Augusta, 
 Me.,  Windsor,  Vt.,  and  various  other  places,  until  1837,  when  he  was 
 ordained  pastor  of  the  Unitarian  Church  at  Newport,  R.I.,  receiving 
 the  charge  from  Dr.  Channing.  In  the  following  October,  he  was  also 
 married  by  Dr.  Channing  to  Harriet  L.,  second  daughter  of  Benjamin 
 Hazard,  lawyer  and  legislator  in  that  State.  In  the  autumn  of  187 1, 
 he  resigned  the  charge  of  the  Newport  pulpit  in  consequence  of  failure 
 of  sight  and  health,  having  continued  his  labors  in  the  ministry  for  over 
 thirty-six  years.     His  home  is  still  at  Newport. 
 
 Mr.  Brooks's  extensive  literary  work  has  consisted  largely  of  studies 
 and  translations  of  the  German,  to  which  he  was  introduced,  while  he 
 was  in  college,  by  Dr.  Follen.  He  has  also  contributed  a  large  number 
 of  serious  or  humorous  original  poems  to  the  magazines  or  papers  ;  writ- 
 ten many  hymns  or  odes  for  public,  religious,  patriotic,  or  festive  occa- 
 sions ;  and  furnished,  from  time  to  time,  a  variety  of  articles  in  prose  to 
 the  periodicals.  He  published  a  translation  of  Schiller's  "  William  Tell," 
 anonymously,  at  Providence,  1838  ;  a  volume  of  miscellaneous  poems, 
 from  the  German,  in  Mr.  George  Ripley's  "Specimens  of  Foreign  Stand- 
 ard Literature,"  1842  ;  a  Poem  before  the  Phi  Beta  Kappa  Society,  <  lam- 
 
 23 
 
354 
 
 SONGS   OF   THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 bridge,  1845  5  a  Translation  of  Schiller's  "  Homage  of  the  Arts,"  with 
 Miscellaneous  Pieces  from  Riickert,  Freiligrath,  and  other  German 
 poets,  1847  ;  "Aquidneck,  and  other  Poems,"  1848;  a  pamphlet,  "The 
 Controversy  touching  the  Old  Stone-Mill  in  the  Town  of  Newport,  R.L, 
 with  Remarks  Introductory  and  Conclusive,"  1851  ;  a  volume  of  "  Ger- 
 man Lyrics,"  selected  from  a  mass  of  translations  previously  published 
 in  the  "  Literary  World,"  or  existing  only  in  manuscript,  1853  ;  an  ad- 
 mirable translation  of  Goethe's  Faust,  1855 ;  "  Songs  of  the  Field  and 
 Flood  ;  "  a  volume  of  sermons,  "  Simplicity  of  Christ's  Teaching,"  1859  ; 
 "Titan,"  1862;  "Hesperus,"  1865;  a  translation  of  the  "Layman's 
 Breviary,"  1867,  and  one  also  of  the  "  World's  Priest,"  1873,  both  from 
 Schefer. 
 
 In  1853  Mr.  Brooks  took  a  voyage  to  India  for  his  health,  and  wrote 
 an  extended  account  of  his  tour,  parts  of  which  appeared  in  "  Harper's 
 Magazine  "  in  1855.  He  has  numerous  other  interesting  papers  or  works 
 in  manuscript  which  wait  to  be  published.  Among  the  articles  he  con- 
 tributed to  the  "  Christian  Examiner "  are  one  on  Poetry,  1845  '■>  one 
 on  German  Hymnology,  i860  ;  and  another  on  the  Apocalypse.  He 
 wrote  also  one  on  Renan,  for  the  "  North  American  Review."  Of  his 
 pamphlet  sermons,  "  The  Man  of  God,"  delivered  before  the  graduating 
 class  of  the  Cambridge  Divinity  School,  1861,  deserves  special  mention. 
 
 It  is  to  be  regretted  that  no  Collection  has  been  made  of  the  large 
 number  of  choice  and  beautiful  original  hymns  and  poems  which  this 
 gentle  and  greatly  beloved  singer  has  written,  and  which  are  scattered  so 
 freely  through  the  papers,  magazines,  and  books  to  which  they  have 
 been  sent,  or  into  which  they  have  otherwise  found  their  way.  It  is 
 equally  surprising  that  so  few  of  them  have  gained  a  place  in  our  Church 
 Collections.  We  shall  be  justified  in  giving  large  room  to  our  gleanings. 
 A  few  translations  are  appended  to  the  original  poems. 
 
 THE    POOR. 
 
 For  the  "  Tea  Bell,"  published  in  behalf  of  a  Fair  for  Soldiers'  Families. 
 
 "  T^HE  poor  ye  always  have  with  you," 
 
 -*■    He  said,  through  whom  the  Father  spake. 
 
 When  on  his  followers,  sad  and  few, 
 That  last  farewell  was  soon  to  break. 
 
 "  The  poor  ye  always  have  with  you,"  — 
 
 Age  after  age  has  passed  away, 
 And  still  that  word  of  his  stands  true, 
 
 The  poor  we  have  with  us  to-day. 
 
 Mi 
 
CHARLES   T.  BROOKS.  355 
 
 "  The  poor  ye  always  have  with  you," 
 Their  shadowy  forms  are  here  to-night, 
 
 Though  haply  hidden  from  our  view 
 By  all  this  blaze  of  joyous  light. 
 
 "  The  poor  ye  always  have  with  you," 
 
 Angels  are  they  of  heavenly  love  ; 
 They  ask,  and  give  a  blessing,  too, 
 
 That  priceless  blessing  from  above. 
 
 "  The  poor  ye  always  have  with  you," 
 
 Poor  soldiers  from  the  field  of  strife, 
 And  those  poor  souls  that  struggle  through, 
 
 At  home,  the  thorny  fight  of  life. 
 
 "  The  poor  ye  always  have  with  you," 
 
 And  none  more  poor  of  all  that  live, 
 Than  they  whose  cold  hearts  never  knew 
 
 The  bliss  of  him  that  loves  to  give. 
 
 "  The  poor  ye  always  have  with  you,"  — 
 
 Then  let  your  kindness  still  abound, 
 That  where  the  thorns  of  penury  grew 
 
 Heaven's  roses  may  enrich  the  ground. 
 
 THE    FAITHFUL    MONK. 
 
 Lines  suggested  by  an  allusion  in  the  Memoir  of  Rev.  O.  W.  B.  Peabocly. 
 
 /^^  OLDEN  gleams  of  noonday  fell 
 
 On  the  pavement  of  the  cell  ! 
 And  the  monk  still  lingered  there 
 In  the  ecstasy  of  prayer. 
 Fuller  floods  of  glory  streamed 
 Through  the  window,  and  it  seemed 
 Like  an  answering  glow  of  love, 
 From  the  countenance  above. 
 
\ 
 
 356 
 
 SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 On  the  silence  of  the  cell 
 Break  the  faint  tones  of  a  bell. 
 'Tis  the  hour  when  at  the  gate 
 Crowds  of  poor  and  hungry  wait, 
 Wan  and  wistful,  to  be  fed 
 With  the  friar  of  Mercy's  bread. 
 
 Hark  !  that  chime  of  heaven's  far  bells  ! 
 On  the  monk's  rapt  ear  it  swells. 
 No  !  fond,  flattering  dream,  away  ! 
 Mercy  calls  :  no  longer  stay  ! 
 Whom  thou  yearnest  here  to  find 
 In  the  musings  of  thy  mind, 
 God  and  Jesus,  lo  !  they  wait, 
 Knocking  at  thy  convent  gate  ! 
 
 From  his  knees  the  monk  arose  ; 
 
 With  full  heart  and  hand  he  goes, 
 
 At  his  gate  the  poor  relieves, 
 
 Gives  a  blessing,  and  receives  : 
 
 To  his  cell  returned,  and  there 
 
 Found  the  angel  of  his  prayer, 
 
 Who  with  radiant  features  said, 
 
 "  Hadst  thou  stayed,  I  must  have  fled." 
 
 DEDICATION    OF    PLUMMER    HALL,    SALEM,    MASS. 
 
 O  PIRITS  of  the  mighty  dead, 
 
 In  the  deathless  page  enshrined, 
 Whence  ye  still  serenely  shed 
 
 Light  immortal  as  the  mind  ! 
 Shades  of  many  a  reverend  age, 
 
 Consecrate  these  new-built  halls  ! 
 Bard  and  prophet,  saint  and  sage, 
 
 Pour  your  light  along  these  walls. 
 
 Ye,  too,  whose  fresh  graves  are  wet 
 S    With  affection's  tear-drops  now  ; 
 Ye  who  dwell  where  death  has  set 
 Radiance  on  each  marble  brow, — 
 
 L 
 
CHARLES   T.  BROOKS.  357 
 
 As  to-day  we  thoughtful  meet, 
 
 Sainted  spirits,  gather  round  ! 
 Make  this  pensive,  calm  retreat 
 
 Evermore  a  hallowed  ground. 
 
 Long  shall  children's  children  here 
 
 Thy  twin-volumes,  God  !  explore, 
 Thought's  deep  mysteries  oft  revere, 
 
 Nature's  marvels  ponder  o'er. 
 Light  of  wisdom  !  Soul  of  truth  ! 
 
 Torch  of  science  !  Trump  of  song ! 
 Hope  of  age  and  Guide  of  youth  ! 
 
 Make  us  calm,  and  brave,  and  strong ! 
 
 Swell  to-day  their  noble  fame, 
 
 Who,  in  wintry  exile  drear, 
 Planted,  in  Jehovah's  name, 
 
 Truth's  and  Freedom's  empire  here  ; 
 Twine  for  later  names  a  wreath 
 
 In  your  hearts  with  pious  care, — 
 Names  whose  benefactions  breathe 
 
 Fragrance  on  their  native  air  ! 
 
 Bless,  kind  Heaven  !  this  ancient  town, 
 
 Built  for  thee,  and  named  of  Peace  ! 
 Righteousness  be  still  her  crown, 
 
 Works  of  love  her  wealth  increase  ! 
 God  of  Peace  !  the  city  keep, 
 
 Guarded  well  by  watchers  three,  — 
 Sentinels  that  ne'er  shall  sleep,  — 
 
 Learning,  Faith,  and  Liberty  ! 
 
 ST.    JOHN'S    VISION. 
 
 i 
 
 "D  EJOICE,  O  weary  soul  ! 
 
 The  day  will  surely  rise, 
 When  this  thy  earth  new-born  shall  roll 
 Through  new-created  skies. 
 
358  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 The  veil  of  oldness  then 
 
 From  human  eyes  shall  fall, 
 
 And,  dwelling  face  to  face  with  men, 
 Shall  God  be  all  in  all. 
 
 The  glory  of  his  throne 
 
 Shall  then  make  all  things  new : 
 
 Eternal  love  shall  reign  alone, 
 And  heaven  be  full  in  view. 
 
 The  curse  shall  be  no  more, 
 Of  doubt,  distrust,  and  gloom  ; 
 
 But  on  this  heaven-illumined  shore 
 The  flower  of  hope  shall  bloom. 
 
 The  city  of  our  God 
 
 Her  gates  shall  open  wide, 
 
 And  through  her  streets  and  portals  broad 
 Shall  pour  a  living  tide. 
 
 There  no  more  night  shall  be, 
 And  death  shall  reign  no  more : 
 
 There  shall  be  no  more  sea, 
 No  partings  on  the  shore. 
 
 But  life's  pure  river  there 
 Shall, flow  serene  and  calm, 
 
 And,  freshening  all  the  tranquil  air, 
 The  tree  of  life  breathe  balm. 
 
 God's  love  shall  end  all  fears  : 
 
 From  every  weeping  eye 
 His  hand  shall  wipe  away  the  tears, 
 
 And  death  itself  shall  die. 
 
 AN   EVENING   HYMN. 
 
 /^NCE  more  on  balmy  wings, 
 ^-"^     Evening,  descending,  brings 
 Coolness  and  calm  : 
 
CHARLES   T.   BROOKS.  359 
 
 Thou,  in  whom  is  no  night, 
 Up  to  thy  world  of  light 
 Guide  thou  our  feeble  sight, 
 Our  lowly  psalm  ! 
 
 Lord  of  the  shining  ones  ! 
 Glory  of  myriad  suns 
 
 Breaks  on  our  sight ! 
 Here,  earth  in  darkness  lies  ; 
 There,  in  the  boundless  skies, 
 Heaven's  day,  with  million  eyes, 
 
 Broods  o'er  the  night. 
 
 Under  thy  wing  we  flee, 
 Father  of  majesty, 
 
 Mercy,  and  might ! 
 Keep  us  from  sin's  dark  snare,  — 
 From  this  world's  gloom  and  glare,  — 
 Till  beams  through  heaven's  pure  air 
 
 Truth's  morning  light  ! 
 
 INSTALLATION    HYMN. 
 
 Sung  at  the  installation  of  Rev.  Charles  Lowe  as  minister  of  the  North  Church,  Salem, 
 Sept.  27,  1855. 
 
 /^REAT  God  !  within  these  temple  gates 
 
 To-day  a  reverent  people  waits 
 To  hear  thy  voice,  to  see  thy  face, 
 And  feel  thine  all-enlivening  grace.* 
 
 For  here,  of  old,  thy  name  was  named, 
 Thy  truth,  of  old,  was  here  proclaimed, 
 Here  swelled  the  song  of  praise  and  trust 
 From  lips  now  mouldering  in  the  dust. 
 
 What  sainted  forms  this  hour  draw  near, 
 To  calm,  to  strengthen,  and  to  cheer  ! 
 Their  words  of  counsel  and  of  prayer 
 Still  haunt  the  hushed  and  hallowed  air. 
 
F 
 
 360     SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 Where  once  they  stood,  thy  servant  stands, 
 With  girded  loins  and  waiting  hands  ; 
 O,  give  him  strength,  Almighty  Lord ! 
 To  do  thy  will  and  speak  thy  word. 
 
 Give  him  the  burning  love  of  truth 
 And  wisdom's  ever-blooming  youth  ; 
 The  tender  heart,  the  faithful  tongue, 
 The  quickening  word  for  old  and  young. 
 
 Lord  !  on  this  ancient  church  of  thine 
 Still  let  thy  face  benignant  shine  ; 
 And  more  and  more,  as  years  roll  by, 
 May  souls  be  ripening  for  the  sky. 
 
 THE    MEMORY   OF    CHANNING. 
 
 Commemorative  of  the  twenty-fifth  anniversary  of  the  death  of  Dr.  Channing.     Ser- 
 vices in  Arlington  Street  Church,  Boston,  1867. 
 
 (~\  GOD  !  in  thy  autumnal  skies 
 
 The  dying  woodlands  glow  and  flame  ; 
 And  wheresoe'er  we  turn  our  eyes, 
 
 All-conquering  Life  !  we  trace  thy  name. 
 
 Bright  emblem  of  that  tranquil  faith 
 
 Whose  evening  beams  "  Good  Morrow  "  give, 
 
 Each  leaf,  transfigured,  mutely  saith, 
 "  As. dying,  and,  behold  !  we  live." 
 
 God  of  the  living,  —  not  the  dead  ! 
 
 Like  autumn  leaves  we  fade  and  flee  ; 
 Yet  reigns  eternal  spring  o'erhead, 
 
 Where  souls  for  ever  live  to  thee. 
 
 From  that  pure  upper  world  to-day 
 A  hallowed  memory  meets  us  here,  — 
 
 A  presence  lighting  all  our  way 
 
 With  heavenly  thoughts  and  lofty  cheer; 
 
 I 
 
CHARLES   T.  BROOKS.  36 1 
 
 A  mind  whose  luminous  vision  woke 
 Man's  better  soul  with  kindling  might, 
 
 When  that  calm  voice,  inspiring,  spoke 
 For  Truth,  and  Liberty,  and  Light ; 
 
 A  power  that  still  uplifts  the  age, 
 
 That  nerves  men's  hearts  to  manly  strife, 
 
 That  speaks  from  many  a  glowing  page, 
 That  lives  in  many  a  godly  life. 
 
 Blest  spirit !  with  the  kindred  band 
 Of  saints  and  seers,  the  sons  of  light, 
 
 Still  cheer  us  through  this  earthly  land 
 With  tidings  from  the  heavenly  height. 
 
 Oh,  help  us  meekly,  bravely  tread 
 
 The  path  of  righteousness  and  love, 
 Till,  joined  to  all  the  immortal  dead, 
 
 We  walk  in  cloudless  light  above. 
 
 OX  THE  DEATH  OF  A  YOUNG  ARTIST. 
 
 A  young  artist,  William  Russell,  son  of  the  late  Professor  William  Russell,  of  Lancas- 
 ter. Mass.,  had  gone  from  his  home  in  Medford,  into  the  fields  and  woods,  as  was  his 
 wont,  to  sketch.  He  was  found  some  weeks  afterward  seated  under  a  tree,  and  dead,  the 
 body  being  much  decayed.  He  was  discovered  by  a  party  of  children  who  were  berrying, 
 and  who  were  guided  to  the  spot  by  a  dog.  He  had  sat  down  in  view  of  a  lovely  scene,  and 
 is  supposed  to  have  died  of  heart-disease. 
 
 HP  HE  break  of  morn  and  May, 
 
 Soft  as  a  spirit's  influence,  drew  him  forth 
 To  spend  with  Nature  one  more  tranquil  day, 
 And  look  his  last  on  this  majestic  earth. 
 
 Reclining  on  her  breast, 
 He  reads  once  more  her  sweet  benignant  face ; 
 
 Then  peacefully  to  rest 
 Sinks  like  a  child,  there,  in  her  great  embrace. 
 
362 
 
 SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 Alone  ;  —  no  human  eye 
 Hung  o'er  him,  as  he  lay,  with  yearning  love  : 
 
 Yet  God's  blue  tender  sky 
 Looked  down  upon  him  through  the  pines  above. 
 
 So  near  —  and  yet  alone  ! 
 No  kindred  hand  to  smooth  his  dying  bed, 
 
 But  a  low  plaintive  moan, 
 As  of  a  spirit,  stirred  the  boughs  o'erhead. 
 
 It  was  God's  spirit  near  ! 
 "  For  so  he  giveth  his  beloved  sleep," 
 
 And  strewed  the  leafy  bier, 
 And  bids  his  angels  watch  around  him  keep. 
 
 He  was  —  and  is  —  at  home, 
 Gone  hence,  attended  by  a  spirit  band  : 
 
 Where  death  no  more  can  come, 
 He  dwells  now  in  his  native  spirit-land. 
 
 Was  it  not  meet  that  so  — 
 By  Heaven's  mysterious  whisper  called  away  — 
 
 That  gentle  one  should  go 
 Hence,  in  the  tenderness  of  life's  pure  May? 
 
 As  the  breeze  dies  away,  — 
 Mysteriously  dies,  — 
 
 As  dies  the  fading  light  at  close  of  day, 
 In  summer  skies. 
 
 IN      MEMORIAM. 
 
 H.    T.    TUCKERMAN. 
 
 (~\  FRIEND,  endeared  to  heart  and  mind 
 By  feeling's  wealth  and  genial  powers, 
 Companion  gentle,  wise,  refined, 
 
 Of  happy  days  and  thoughtful  hours  ! 
 
CHARLES  T.  BROOK'S.  3^3 
 
 Death  cannot  take  thee  from  my  side, 
 
 Death  could  not  chill  thy  heart's  warm  flow  ; 
 
 Those  kindly  well-springs  gush  and  glide, 
 Close  by  me  still  where'er  I  go. 
 
 How  can  I,  though  thy  form  is  gone, 
 Deem  that  our  walks  and  talks  are  o'er  ? 
 
 Oft  shall  we  still  stroll  calmly  on 
 
 By  lonely  lane  and  murmuring  shore. 
 
 As  yearly,  to  that  healthful  shore 
 
 The  city's  denizens  retreat, 
 We  never,  save  in  memory,  more 
 
 Thy  pale  and  pensive  face  shall  meet. 
 
 Thy  step  is  on  a  fairer  strand, 
 
 Where  healthful  airs  perennial  blow ; 
 Thy  home  is  that  unfading  land 
 
 Whose  tribes  nor  death  nor  sickness  know. 
 
 And  there  thou  art  rejoined  to  one, 
 
 Thy  heart's  best  friend  for  many  a  year  j 
 
 O  beauteous  bond  of  sire  and  son, 
 
 More  beauteous  in  that  happier  sphere. 
 
 And  he,  that  dear  old  master,  there 
 
 Receives  thee  to  a  heavenly  hill, 
 And,  both  made  young  in  that  pure  air, 
 
 Ye  join  a  wiser  Master  still. 
 
 Yet  not  far  distant  do  we  deem 
 
 The  spirit-land  which  now  is  thine  ; 
 Thy  thought  and  life,  a  tranquil  stream, 
 
 Beyond  death's  cloud-veil  glide  and  shine. 
 
 And  tender  memories,  mild  and  fair, 
 With  every  thought  of  thee  shall  come, 
 
 Like  beckonings  through  a  purer  air, 
 That  bid  us  feel  thy  heaven  our  home. 
 
364  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 HYMN   FOR   A   FESTIVAL. 
 
 Written  for,  and  sung  at,  the  Unitarian  Festival,  at  Music  Hall,  Thursday,  June  1st, 
 1871,  Boston,  and  repeated  on  the  same  occasion,  in  1873. 
 
 /^REAT  Lord  of  all !  our  Father,  God  ! 
 
 Sweet  summer's  hymn  ascends  to  thee  : 
 Her  beauty  breathes  thy  joy  abroad, 
 
 And  love's  warm  tide  flows  full  and  free. 
 
 Through  all  the  realm  of  earth  and  air, 
 Thy  great  heart  pulses  day  and  night, 
 
 And  flower  and  fountain  leap  to  share 
 The  glory  of  thy  kindling  light. 
 
 In  morn's  and  evening's  twilight  glow, 
 Thy  tender  greeting,  Lord,  we  feel ; 
 
 And  midnight  heavens,  with  silent  show, 
 Thy  watchful,  patient  love  reveal. 
 
 But  not  in  realms  dim  sense  can  sound 
 The  fountain  springs  that  life  imparts  ; 
 
 That  blessed  source  alone  is  found 
 In  loving  and  believing  hearts. 
 
 To-day  thy  fount,  dear  Spirit,  dwells 
 
 In  us,  replenished  from  above  ; 
 And  through  our  mingling  bosoms  wells 
 
 In  sparkling  tides  of  life  and  love. 
 
 What  feast  of  souls,  thy  fount  of  grace, 
 O  bounteous  God,  this  day  hath  spread ! 
 
 Fair  nature's  light,  and  friendship's  face, 
 And  tender  memory  of  the  dead. 
 
 The  immortal  dead  !  in  thee  they  live  ; 
 
 With  them,  to-day,  we  live  in  thee  ; 
 To  us,  O  Fount  Eternal,  give 
 
 The  life  of  faith  in  love  made  free. 
 
CHARLES   T.   BROOKS.  365 
 
 HYMN    FOR   THE    END    OF   THE   YEAR    1871. 
 
 Written  in  the  Hospital. 
 
 "C\ARTH  rolls  round  from  day  to  night, 
 
 And  from  night  again  to  clay ; 
 Days  and  years,  in  ceaseless  flight, 
 Unreturning,  speed  away. 
 
 Yet,  above  the  rushing  tide, 
 Bearing  earthly  wrecks  along, 
 
 Heavenly  hills  of  peace  abide,  — 
 God's  own  holy  mountain  strong. 
 
 There  the  Lamb  amidst  the  flock, 
 In  serene  communion  dwells  ; 
 
 Through  the  fields  of  truth  they  walk, 
 Drink  of  truth's  immortal  wells. 
 
 Rock  of  Ages  !  on  thy'  breast, 
 'Mid  the  restless  waves  of  time, 
 
 May  our  souls  find  tranquil  rest, 
 By  the  power  of  faith  sublime. 
 
 God  !  in  whom  our  dwelling-place 
 
 Ever  has  been  and  shall  be : 
 Let  thy  gentle  hand  of  grace 
 
 Hold  us  'mid  the  surging  sea. 
 
 Fill  the  eventide  with  light ! 
 
 Bid  all  doubt  and  trouble  cease  ! 
 Let  us,  in  the  mountain's  height, 
 
 Share  the  ascended  Master's  peice. 
 
 With  the  saintly,  brave,  and  wise, 
 Now  with  life  immortal  crowned, 
 
 Walking  in  his  paradise, 
 
 Day  by  day  may  we  be  found. 
 
 Thus,  as  days  and  years  depart, 
 And  when  time  itself  shall  flee, 
 
 Purged  in  sight  and  pure  in  heart, 
 Draw  us  home  to  them  and  thee. 
 
366  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 SUCH    IS    LIFE. 
 
 Written  in  the  Hospital,  1872. 
 
 IFE  is  a  sea ;  like  ships  we  meet,  — 
 We  speak  each  other  and  are  gone. 
 Across  that  deep,  O  what  a  fleet 
 Of  human  souls  is  hurrying  on  ! 
 
 We  meet,  we  part,  and  hope  some  day 
 
 To  meet  again  on  sea  of.  shore, 
 Before  we  reach  that  peaceful  bay, 
 
 Where  all  shall  meet,  to  part  no  more. 
 
 O  great  Commander  of  the  fleet ! 
 
 O  Ruler  of  the  tossing  seas  ! 
 Thy  signal  to  our  eyes  how  sweet ! 
 
 How  sweet  tfry  breath,  —  the  heavenly  breeze  ! 
 
 THE   GREAT  VOICES. 
 
 Written  on  the  way  to  the  Berkshire  Hills,  for  the  "  Boston  Transcript,"  1872. 
 
 A    VOICE  from  the  sea  to  the  mountains, 
 From  the  mountains  again  to  the  sea : 
 A  call  from  the  deep  to  the  fountains, 
 O  spirit !  be  glad  and  be  free  ! 
 
 A  cry  from  the  floods  to  the  fountains, 
 And  the  torrents  repeat  the  glad  song, 
 
 As  they  leap  from  the  breast  of  the  mountains, 
 O  spirit !  be  free  and  be  strong  ! 
 
 The  pine  forests  thrill  with  emotion 
 
 Of  praise,  as  the  spirit  sweeps  by : 
 With  a  voice  like  the  murmur  of  ocean, 
 
 To  the  soul  of  the  listener  they  cry. 
 
 O  sing,  human  heart,  like  the  fountains, 
 
 With  joy  reverential  and  free  ; 
 Contented  and  calm  as  the  mountains, 
 
 And  deep  as  the  woods  and  the  sea. 
 
 L 
 
CHARLES   T.   BROOKS.  367 
 
 HYMN   FOR  VISITATION    DAY. 
 
 Written  for  the  Visitation  Day  of  the  Cambridge  Divinity  School,  1S73. 
 
 A  T  thy  call,  O  Voice  divine  ! 
 
 Here,  with  girded  loins,  we  stand  : 
 Soldiers,  priests,  and  sons  of  thine, 
 Lord,  we  wait  the  beckoning  hand. 
 
 From  this  cloistered,  calm  retreat,  — 
 
 From  our  musings,  vows,  and  prayers,  — 
 
 At  thy  word  we  go  to  meet 
 
 Earthly  conflicts,  toils,  and  cares. 
 
 Through  the  temple-gate,  O  God  ! 
 
 In  thy  might  would  we  go  forth, 
 Thou,  whose  altar,  pure  and  broad, 
 
 Hallows  every  spot  of  earth. 
 
 Lead  us  in  the  kindling  name 
 
 Of  thy  Christ,  thy  perfect  Son  ! 
 Make  his  love  our  guiding  flame, 
 
 Till  the  heavenly  day  is  won. 
 
 FOR  THE   NEWPORT   CHURCH. 
 
 Written  for  Rev.  J.  C.  Kimball's  installation  as  Mr.  Brooks's  successor  in  the  pastorate 
 in  the  church  at  Newport,  Oct.  7,  1873. 
 
 "RATHER  of  world  and  soul ! 
 
 Changeless,  while  ages  roll ! 
 
 Boundless  in  grace  ! 
 Who,  with  thy  strength  and  rest, 
 Quickenest  and  quietest ! 
 Now  in  each  yearning  breast 
 
 Unveil  thy  face  J 
 
368  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 • 
 
 Word  !  whose  creative  thrill 
 Wakes  in  all  nature  still 
 
 Life,  light,  and  bloom  ! 
 Come  with  resistless  ray, 
 Chase  all  our  clouds  away, 
 And  with  thy  heavenly  day 
 All  souls  illume ! 
 
 Spirit,  in  whom  we  live  ! 
 Thou  who  dost  yearn  to  give 
 
 All  hearts  thy  rest ! 
 When  earthly  joys  take  flight, 
 Cheer  thou  the  earthly  night, 
 And  in  the  morning  light 
 
 Still  be  our  guest ! 
 
 And  when  the  eternal  morn, 
 
 From  death's  deep  night-shades  born, 
 
 Our  eyes  shall  see, 
 Father  !  thy  word,  thy  breath, 
 Thy  Christ,  who  conquereth 
 Sorrow  and  Sin  and  Death, 
 
 Our  trust  shall  be  ! 
 
 DEATH    OF    A   YOUNG   MAN. 
 
 Died  in  1873  at  Mystic,  Conn.,  Samuel  Lee,  aged  21. 
 
 TZ^ATHER  !  beneath  thy  chastening  stroke 
 
 With  sad,  yet  trusting  hearts  we  bow : 
 Though  here  the  golden  bowl  is  broke, 
 The  Eternal  Fountain  still  art  thou  ! 
 
 Around  this  fount  of  Life  and  Love 
 
 We  gather  in  our  lonely  grief; 
 With  thee  in  thy  pure  home  above 
 
 Is  all  our  solace  and  relief. 
 
CHARLES   T.   BROOK'S.  '369 
 
 On  earth  we  ever  more  must  miss 
 
 The  son  and  brother,  loved  and  true  ; 
 
 But  in  a  brighter  world  than  this 
 
 The  beauteous  bond  wilt  thou  renew. 
 
 He  lives  to  thee  !  to  us  he  lives  ! 
 
 Death  cannot  blight  such  love  and  truth : 
 The  memory  of  his  goodness  gives 
 
 A  pledge  of  heaven's  eternal  youth  ! 
 
 IN    MEMORY   OF    M.    K.    H. 
 
 Jan  2,  1874. 
 
 T    AMB  of  God's  fold  !  'tis  well  with  thee  ! 
 
 Thy  sufferings  all  are  ended  now  ; 
 His  hand  from  every  pain  set  free 
 
 The  burdened  breast  and  weary  brow. 
 
 The  fluttering  heart  is  laid  to  rest 
 On  God's  great  heart  for  evermore ; 
 
 The  wounded  bird  hath  reached  its  nest, 
 The  sea  is  past,  the  storm  is  o'er. 
 
 'Tis  well  with  thee  !  a  blest  relief 
 
 God's  angel,  Death,  to  thee  hath  brought  ; 
 
 But  ah  !  by  lonely,  bitter  grief 
 To  us  submission  must  be  taught. 
 
 We  cannot  wish  thee  back  again 
 
 From  that  most  calm  and  blissful  shore, 
 
 To  taste  the  cup  of  earthly  pain, 
 And  weary  conflict,  long  and  sore. 
 
 'Tis  well,  we  own  :  in  tearful  trust 
 We  lift  our  eyes  to  Heaven,  and  say : 
 
 God  is  our  Father,  wise  and  just ; 
 He  gave,  and  he  hath  taken  away. 
 24 
 
37o 
 
 SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 Hath  taken  away,  that  he  may  keep 
 Our  darling  in  his  blest  embrace  ; 
 
 Till  we,  who  now  in  sorrow  weep, 
 Shall  hail  with  joy  her  radiant  face. 
 
 Farewell !  henceforth  our  angel  be  ! 
 
 Till  we,  made  child-like,  come  to  dwell 
 In  that  pure  home,  with  God,  and  thee, 
 
 Where  we  shall  know  that  all  is  well. 
 
 We  have  expressed  our  regret  that  so  few  of  Mr.  Brooks's  hymns 
 have  a  place  in  the  Church  Collections.  We  recall  now  only  two, 
 and  these  are  translations  from  the  German.  One  is  in  Hedge  and 
 Huntington's  "  Hymns  for  the  Church,"  — 
 
 "  Let  me  not,  thou  King  Eternal." 
 
 The  other  is  in  many  Collections,  Trinitarian  and  Unitarian, — 
 
 "God  bless  our  native  land." 
 
 Compilers  and  hymnologists,  English  and  American,  have  either  marked 
 this  latter  "Anonymous,"  or  else  have  attributed  it  to  John  S.  Dwight. 
 Thus  it  is  referred  to  Mr.  Dwight  by  Mr.  Josiah  Miller,  in  his  admirable 
 work,  "  Singers  and  Songs  of  the  Church  "  (London  :  Longmans,  Greene, 
 &  Co.,  1869),  and  by  Rev.  Charles  L.  Hutchins,  in  his  valuable  "Anno- 
 tations of  the  Hymnal"  (H.  M.  Mallory  &  Co.,  Hartford,  Conn.,  1872). 
 Mr.  Brooks  translated  it  from  the  German,  while  he  was  a  member  of 
 the  Divinity  School,  at  Cambridge.  It  was  shortly  afterwards  altered 
 in  some  of  its  lines  by  Mr.  Dwight,  and  in  its  changed  form  was  first  in- 
 troduced, it  is  supposed,  into  one  of  Lowell  Mason's  singing-books. 
 Hence,  doubtless,  it  came  to  be  credited  so  widely  to  Mr.  Dwight  him- 
 self. We  give  the  original  translation  of  it  by  Mr.  Brooks.  We  may 
 add,  however,  that  in  the  "  Hymns  of  the  Spirit  "  the  lines  of  uthe  last 
 verse  receive  a  still  further  change  from  the  original  than  that  which  was 
 made  by  Mr.  Dwight,  and  that  the  compilers  add  also  a  third  stanza. 
 
 G 
 
 OUR    COUNTRY. 
 
 OD  bless  our  native  land  ! 
 Firm  may  she  ever  stand 
 Through  storm  and  night ! 
 
CHARLES  T.  BROOKS.  371 
 
 When  the  wild  tempests  rave, 
 Ruler  of  wind  and  wave, 
 Father  Eternal,  save 
 Us  by  thy  might ! 
 
 Lo  !  our  hearts'  prayers  arise 
 Into  the  upper  skies, 
 
 Regions  of  light ! 
 He  who  hath  heard  each  sigh, 
 Watches  each  weeping  eye  : 
 He  is  forever  nigh, 
 
 Venger  of  Right ! 
 
 NOVALIS'S    IXth    SPIRITUAL   SONG. 
 
 T  SAY  to  every  man  I  meet : 
 
 He  lives,  He's  risen  again  ! 
 
 And  evermore,  in  house  and  street, 
 
 Still  walks  and  talks  with  men. 
 
 I  say  to  each  man,  —  each  one  says 
 
 To  all  his  friends  likewise, — 
 Soon  shall  on  earth,  in  every  place, 
 
 The  heavenly  kingdom  rise  ! 
 
 Now  first,  the  world,  to  man's  new  sight, 
 
 Appears  a  fatherland : 
 New  life,  with  rapturous  delight, 
 
 Man  welcomes  at  his  hand. 
 
 The  dread  of  death  is  buried  now 
 
 Down  in  the  deepest  sea, 
 And  each  with  clear  and  radiant  brow 
 
 Beholds  futurity. 
 
 Out  into  heavenly  freedom  winds 
 
 The  darksome  way  he  trod, 
 And  whoso  heeds  his  counsel  finds 
 
 At  last  the  house  of  God. 
 
372 
 
 SONGS  OF   THE  LIBERAL   FAITH. 
 
 And  now  man  weeps  no  more  to  close 
 
 A  brother's  eyes  below  ; 
 They,  soon  or  late,  shall  meet,  he  knows 
 
 That  sweetens  every  woe. 
 
 With  nobler  zest  for  virtuous  deeds 
 Each  heart  of  man  can  glow  ; 
 
 For  glorious  harvest  from  these  seeds 
 In  fairer  fields  shall  grow. 
 
 He  lives,  —  forever  ours  is  he, 
 Though  all  else  fail  on  earth  ; 
 
 And  so  to  us  this  day  shall  be 
 The  new  creation's  birth. 
 
 Mr.  Brooks  sends  us  the  following  fresh  translations  from  Friedrich 
 Rilckert,  who  had  rendered  them  into  German  from  the  Poetry  of  the 
 Brahmins. 
 
 T  KNOW  not  whither  I  go  ;  I  came,  I  know  not  whence  ; 
 
 But  this,  From  God  to  God,  is  all  my  confidence. 
 Why  was  I  not  till  now,  and  others  long,  long  ago  ? 
 Why  was  this  place  assigned  to  me,  of  all  below  ? 
 I  grow,  as  grows  the  tree  ;  bloom  as  the  field-flowers  bloom : 
 In  my  own  time  of  year,  in  my  own  garden  room. 
 In  the  great  garden  lies  no  bed  so  lone,  unblest, 
 Which  is  not,  in  its  time,  by  Spring's  warm  breath  caressed  \ 
 No  bed,  the  Gardener's  look  has  never  beamed  upon, 
 And  made  to  bloom  in  bliss,  —  whose  look  is  moon  and  sun. 
 I  feel  the  summer's  glow,  the  winter's  searching  blast, 
 And  shudder  as  I  think  how  soon  my  day  is  past. 
 Yet  of  immortal  stock,  faith  witnesses,  I  came, 
 And  what  consumes  me  is  no  self-consuming  flame. 
 A  lower  impulse  stirs  within  me,  and  a  higher  ; 
 This  must  I  make  my  law,  resisting  base  desire. 
 My  joy  will  I  unfold  to  purest  bloom  and  glow, 
 And  to  a  holy  bliss  transfigure  all  my  woe. 
 God  holds  me  in  his  hand,  in  him  I  rest  and  wait  ; 
 Before  him  I  am  small,  but  in  him  I  am  great. 
 
U'.ISII/XCTON  VERY.  373 
 
 TTUMANITY  is  found  kneeling,  in  every  zone, 
 
 Before  some    holy  thing,   that  points    to   God's   pure 
 throne  ; 
 No  supplicating  form,  nor  look,  do  thou  despise, 
 By  which  poor,  earth-bound    hearts  would  struggle  towards 
 
 the  skies. 
 One  child  with  smiles  contends,  one  with  a  tearful  face, 
 In  the  dear  mother's  arms  to  win  a  blissful  place. 
 
 "D  ROOK  said  to  stream  :  Ah  me  !  swallowed  so  suddenly  : 
 I  dreamed  I  was  somewhat,  but  feel  I'm  naught  in 
 thee. 
 Stream  answered  :  Let  it  be  :  we  journey  to  the  sea, 
 Where  I,  too,  shall  be  lost,  as  thou  art  here  in  me ! 
 
 T^EVOUTLY  read,  and  then  all  books  will  edify  thee  ; 
 
 Devoutly  look,  and  naught  but  wonders  will  pass  by 
 thee  ; 
 Devoutly  speak,  and  men  devoutly  listen  to  thee  ; 
 Devoutly  act,  and  then  the  might  of  God  acts  through  thee. 
 
 WASHINGTON   VERY. 
 
 (1815-1853.) 
 
 Washington  Very,  son  of  Captain  Jones  Very,  and  brother  of  Rev. 
 Jones  Very,  some  of  whose  hymns  and  sonnets  we  have  given  in  a  pre- 
 vious part  of  this  volume,  was  born  in  Salem,  Mass.,  Nov.  12,  1815. 
 From  1829  to  1835  he  was  a  clerk  in  the  Mercantile  Bank  of  that  city, 
 and  was  afterward  a  book-keeper  in  the  Xaumkeag  Bank.  He  graduated 
 at  Harvard  College  in  1843,  w'tn  t^ie  second  honors  of  his  class.  He 
 spent  the  usual  three  years  at  the  Cambridge  Divinity  School,  graduating 
 in  1846.  For  four  months,  in  1844-45,  ne  travelled  in  Europe,  and  kept 
 a  full  and  interesting  journal  of  his  tour.     He  preached  for  a  year,  and 
 
' 
 
 374  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 then  taught  a  private  school  in  his  native  city  until  his  death,  April  28, 
 1853.  At  the  time  of  his  decease,  a  friend  paid  him  the  following  tribute 
 in  the  "  Salem  Gazette  :  "  "  He  possessed  a  solid  mind,  tempered  too 
 by  fine  poetical  sentiments  ;  was  distinguished  for  his  thoroughness  and 
 patient  investigations  in  study  ;  deservedly  enjoyed  a  high  classical 
 reputation,  and  was  remarkably  devoid  of  pretensions  of  any  sort."  His 
 sermons,  and  various  prose  contributions  to  several  papers,  were  of  de- 
 cided merit ;  while  the  few  hymns  and  poems  which  he  left  behind  him 
 were  exceedingly  fine,  and  are  significant  of  what  had  doubtless  been  our 
 increased  indebtedness  to  him  for  yet  other  offerings  of  his  muse,  had  his 
 life  been  longer  spared.  Besides  the  three  pieces  here  presented,  we 
 have  seen  others  entitled,  "To  Frank,"  "On  some  Ivy  seen  at  Heidel- 
 berg Castle,"  &c. 
 
 LINES    ON    THE    OLD    PUTNEY   BURIAL-PLACE, 
 DANVERS,    MASS. 
 
 OLEEP  on,  sleep  on,  beneath  the  sod 
 
 Which  oft  your  weary  feet  have  pressed ; 
 Forgot  by  man,  but  not  by  God, 
 
 Ye  lie  unknown,  though  not  unblest. 
 
 Sleep  on,  though  high  above  your  grave 
 No  sculptured  marble  meets  the  eye  ; 
 
 Here  the  green  birch-trees  rustling  wave, 
 And  vines  in  tangled  mazes  lie. 
 
 Sleep  on  among  these  wooded  hills, 
 Beholders 'of  your  joys  and  woes  ; 
 
 Another's  thirst  now  slake  these  rills, 
 Another's  voice  this  echo  knows. 
 
 Sleep  on,  though  lands  and  wealth  are  left, 
 And  all  that  earthly  sense  could  give  ; 
 
 Of  nothing  have  ye  been  bereft, 
 
 If  but  your  souls  have  learned  to  live. 
 
 Sleep,  till  the  morning  sunbeams  play 
 All  lovely  round  this  smiling  height  \ 
 
 Then  wake  to  that  E'erlasting  Day, 
 
 That  knows  nor  sorrow,  darkness,  night. 
 
WASHINGTON   VERY.  375 
 
 THE   SNOW. 
 
 r  I  "HE  snow  has  come  ;  o'er  field  and  hill 
 
 Its  fleecy  mantle  wide  is  thrown  ; 
 And  winter's  breezes  stern  and  chill, 
 Through  leafless  branches,  sadly  moan. 
 
 Hushed  is  the  song  in  every  grove, 
 And  fled  the  warblers  far  away  ; 
 
 Forgot  their  spring-told  tale  of  love, 
 Amid  December's  ruder  day. 
 
 Each  little  flower,  that  late  so  fair 
 Was  mirrored  in  the  passer's  eye, 
 
 All  withered  lies.  Alas  !  the  rare, 
 The  beautiful,  but  live  to  die. 
 
 O  say  not  so.     The  cold,  cold  grave 
 May  shut  them  from  our  earthly  view ; 
 
 But  He,  the  All-powerful  to  save, 
 Doth  point  us  to  their  glory  too. 
 
 Believe  each  .season,  as  it  goes, 
 A  lesson  brings  for  us  to  kno*v ; 
 
 Perhaps  'twill  speak  of  present  woes, 
 Perchance  some  future  bliss  foreshow. 
 
 Then  hail  !  thou  wintry  robe  of  white  ! 
 
 Fair  messenger  of  swift  decay  ! 
 What  though  thou  tell'st  of  waning  light, 
 
 Thou  heraldest  a  brighter  day. 
 
 The  following  lines  are  in  the  "  Book  of  Hymns  :  "  — 
 
 SPRING. 
 
 '"PHERE  cometh  o'er  the  spirit, 
 
 With  each  returning  year, 
 The  thought  that  Thou,  the  Father, 
 
r 
 
 376  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 Art  ever  to  us  near ; 
 With  hope  of  life  dispelling 
 
 The  death,  that  winter  brought ; 
 And  flowers  and  fruits  foretelling, 
 
 With  fragrant  beauty  fraught. 
 
 Tis  this,  which  calls  thy  children, 
 
 In  sweet  accord,  to  raise, 
 Beneath  thy  blue-domed  temple, 
 
 One  general  hymn  of  praise 
 To  Thee,  the  ever-living, 
 
 The  universal  King ; 
 Who  never  ceasest  giving 
 
 Each  good  and  perfect  thing. 
 
 The  streamlet  from  the  mountain, 
 
 It  speaketh,  Lord,  of  thee, 
 As  from  its  snow-capped  fountain 
 
 It  rushes  to  the  sea : 
 The  gentle  dew  descending, 
 
 And  cloud's  refreshing  shower  ;  — 
 O  God,  our  Heavenly  Father, 
 
 All,  all  proclaim  thy  power. 
 
 JAMES    RICHARDSON. 
 (1817-1863.) 
 
 Rev.  James  Richardson  was  born  at  Dedham,  Mass.,  May  25,  1817. 
 His  father  was  Hon.  James  Richardson,  who  resided  in  that  town,  and 
 was  an  eminent  lawyer  and  public  man  for  more  than  a  half  century. 
 The  mother  was  a  lineal  descendant  of  Mrs.  Winslow,  the  wife  of  the 
 Pilgrim  Governor,  but  died  at  an  early  age,  leaving  two  small  children. 
 The  subject  of  our  sketch,  who  was  one  of  these,  had  the  advantage  of 
 good  society,  and  in  his  childhood  manifested  a  great  fondness  for  books 
 and  nature.  When  only  six  years  old,  he  used  to  play  the  preacher  and 
 try  his  hand  at  writing  hymns.     He  early  showed  a  passion  also  for 
 
JAMES  RICHARDSON.  377 
 
 drawing  and  music.  In  most  of  these  youthful  predilections,  but  espe- 
 cially in  his  love  of  poetry,  he  was  much  encouraged  by  his  father,  who 
 had  himself  written  a  poem  on  graduating  at  college,  and  subsequently 
 given  another  before  the  Phi  Beta  Kappa  Society  at  Cambridge.  The 
 son  graduated  at  Harvard  College  in  1S37,  having  been  deeply  interested 
 during  his  academic  course  in  the  metaphysical  works  of  German  and 
 French  authors,  and  an  ardent  friend  of  the  Transcendental  Philosophy. 
 He  aided  in  collecting  "  Carlyle's  Miscellanies,"  published  under  Mr. 
 Emerson's  supervision  ;  wrote  articles  for  the  "Democratic  Review  "and 
 other  leading  journals,  and  helped  to  edit  the  college  magazine,  though 
 his  studies  were  frequently  interrupted  by  ill  health.  He  was  afterward 
 a  clerk  of  the  county  courts,  then  a  principal  of  a  school  in  New  Hamp- 
 shire, and  later  still  at  the  head  of  another  near  Providence,  R.I. 
 
 Entering  the  Divinity  School  at  Cambridge,  he  spent  three  years  in 
 the  study  of  theology,  and  graduated  in  1845.  Shortly  after,  he  was 
 ordained  to  the  ministry  in  Southington,  Conn. ;  and  two  years  later 
 became  the  pastor  of  the  Unitarian  Society  in  Haverhill,  Mass.  While 
 here,  he  often  lectured  as  well  as  preached,  and  took  an  active  interest  in 
 the  Temperance,  Peace,  and  Anti-slavery  Reforms.  A  return  of  bleeding 
 at  the  lungs  obliged  him  at  length  to  give  up  his  parish,  and  he  went 
 back  to  his  paternal  acres  at  Dedham.  Yet  he  continued  to  preach  and 
 lecture  as  opportunity  and  health  permitted,  contributed  to  the  papers 
 and  magazines  numerous  poems,  stories,  and  essays,  and  published  "  Dis- 
 courses on  Theology  and  Religion,"  "  The  Nature  of  Divine  Revelation," 
 "The  Relation  of  Religion  and  the  Pulpit,"  and  the  "Nature  of  Sin  and 
 Evil."  His  humane  heart  led  him  during  the  late  war  to  the  hospitals  at 
 Washington ;  and  the  last  services  of  this  gifted  essayist,  lecturer,  poet, 
 and  preacher,  were  ministries  of  care  and  devotion  to  the  nation's 
 wounded  and  suffering  heroes  at  the  capital  of  his  country.  Here  he 
 died,  Nov.  10,  1863. 
 
 We  are  mainly  indebted  for  the  above  account  to  a  sketch  of  Mr. 
 Richardson  in  "  Brittan's  Journal"  (April  No.,  1873),  written  by  the 
 editor,  who  has  also  kindly  sent  us  copies  of  four  of  our  poet's  produc- 
 tions in  verse,  which  were  published  more  than  twenty  years  ago  in  "The 
 Shekinah,"  another  magazine  conducted  by  himself  with  the  very  effi- 
 cient aid  of  his  gifted  friend.  Portions  of  these  pieces  were  introduced, 
 by  way  of  illustration,  into  Mr.  Brittan's  sketch  above  referred  to.  They 
 are  here  given  in  their  more  entire  form.  We  may  add  that  Mr.  Rich- 
 ardson, like  his  father,  wrote  an  ode  for  the  valedictory  exercises  of  his 
 college  class.     The  first  stanza  was  as  follows  :  — 
 
 A  shadow  steals  across  the  sun, 
 
 And  veils  our  morning  sky  ; 
 A  tear  bedews  the  light  of  joy, 
 
 That  gladdened  every  eye. 
 
378 
 
 SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 GOD'S    TRUE   TEMPLE. 
 
 IVTOT  by  vast  piles  of  sculptured  stone,  uprearing 
 
 Their  massive  towers  and  fretted  spires  on  high, 
 With  splendid  pomp  and  costly  pride,  appearing 
 To  scorn  the  poor  and  humble  passer-by  ; 
 
 Not  by  the  rich  and  swelling  congregations 
 That  daily  crowd  the  broad,  luxurious  aisles  ; 
 
 Not  by  the  pulpit's  eloquent  orations, 
 
 And  melody  that  sense  and  soul  beguiles ; 
 
 Not  by  most  solemn  rites,  nor  by  receiving 
 
 The  holy  bread  and  consecrated  cup  ; 
 Not  by  vain  doctrines  and  long  creeds  believing, 
 
 Do  we  the  temple  of  our  God  build  up. 
 
 For  God's  true  temple  is  Humanity, 
 
 That  now  unfinished  and  in  ruin  lies ; 
 And  would  we  its  divine  restorers  be, 
 
 And  raise  it  up  in  glory  to  the  skies  ? 
 
 Wherever  weep  the  enslaved,  the  poor,  the  lowly, 
 Or  fall  the  tempted,  frail,  and  sinful  ones, 
 
 There,  with  a  purpose  high  and  spirit  holy, 
 We'll  haste  to  succor  these  our  Father's  sons. 
 
 And  inward  purity  and  love  combining, 
 
 That  Spirit  fair  which  moved  our  blessed  Lord 
 
 Shall  build  them  up  as  stones,  all  fair  and  shining, 
 Into  a  living  temple  of  our  God. 
 
 And  thus  shall  we  in  lofty  virtue  growing, 
 Founded  on  Jesus  as  our  corner-stone, 
 
 Be  pillars  of  that  holy  Temple,  showing 
 
 That  God's  true  praise  is  love  of  man  alone. 
 
JAMES  RICHARDSON.  379 
 
 TRUST    IN    MAN. 
 
 TIT  AVE  faith  in  man,  thy  brother: 
 In  the  dungeon's  gloomy  cell, 
 All  chained  and  manacled,  there  sits 
 
 A  murderer,  grim  and  fell ; 
 And,  like  the  moonlight  on  the  cloud, 
 
 Or  sunbeam  on  the  sea, 
 Clasped  to  his  heart,  his  daughter  fair 
 
 Sits  on  the  convict's  knee. 
 And  the  murderer  lifts  his  blood-stained  soul 
 
 Up  to  the  Father's  throne, 
 And  prays  that  God  would  shield  his  child, 
 
 Left  on  the  world  alone. 
 Oh,  may  not  that  prayer  of  faithful  love 
 
 For  his  deep,  dark  guilt  atone  ? 
 For  e'en  in  the  basest  felon's  breast 
 
 Is  a  spark  of  humanity. 
 Then  trust  in  man,  thy  brother, 
 
 Whoever  he  may  be. 
 
 THE    LOST    ART. 
 
 "  (^H,  trust  not,  youth,  to  the  visions  fair, 
 
 That  charm  thy  ravished  heart ; 
 But  in  the  Galleries  dim  and  old, 
 More  wondrous  visions  shalt  thou  behold, 
 There  study  thine  ancient  art." 
 
 "  There  worship  the  great  old  Masters,  * 
 There  copy  their  works  sublime, 
 
 These  shall  an  Inspiration  give 
 
 That  shall  make  thy  humble  works  outlive 
 The  annals  of  thy  time." 
 
 And  mildly  answered  the  artist, 
 
 "  A  gallery  have  I 
 That  girdles  this  beautiful  earth  around, 
 That  reaches  the  mystic  dim  profound, 
 
 Its  roof  the  vaulted  sky. 
 
380  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 "  And  deep  within  the  studio 
 
 Of  my  awed  and  ravished  soul,  — 
 
 Painting  for  ever  in  silence  there, 
 
 His  canvas  wonderfully  fair 
 The  Master  doth  unroll. 
 
 "  Where  studied  those  ancient  artists  ? 
 
 Who  gave  them  their  wondrous  skill  ? 
 In  Nature's  Gallery  divine, 
 They  worshipped  at  thought's  interior  shrine, 
 
 With  God  their  Master  still." 
 
 TRUTH    AND    NATURE. 
 
 Originally  published  in  the  "  Knickerbocker."      One  stanza  here  omitted. 
 
 'T^HERE'S  a  light  gone  out  of  the  sunshine, 
 
 A  glory  from  the  day ; 
 The  stars  are  dimmer  to  my  sight, 
 The  moon,  that  hushed  the  holy  night, 
 And  filled  my  soul  with  calm  delight, 
 Hath  lost  its  ancient  ray. 
 
 The  brook,  with  its  veined  pebbles 
 
 And  its  painted  mussel-shell ; 
 The  delicate  mosses  on  the  brink, 
 The  crystals  within  the  rocky  chink, 
 The  feathery  ferns  that  stooped  to  drink,  — 
 
 All  sights  that  I  loved  so  well : 
 
 With  the  breath  of  the  apple-blossoms, 
 And  the  scent  of  the  new-mown  hay 
 
 Which  the  starry  buttercups  illume  ; 
 
 The  violet's  far-diffused  perfume, 
 
 And  the  glory  of  the  roses'  bloom,  — 
 Have  passed  from  my  life  away. 
 
JAMES  RICHARDSON.  3^1 
 
 And  the  voices  of  the  Spring-time 
 
 Carol  no  more  to  me  ; 
 Nor,  singing  on  its  stony  bed, 
 The  brook,  by  hidden  fountains  fed, 
 Answers  the  robin  overhead 
 
 With  die  old  melody. 
 
 All  these  have  forgot  the  music 
 
 They  sang  in  mine  ear  of  yore  ; 
 The  colors  fade  in  life's  garish  light, 
 The  early  bloom  has  turned  to  blight, 
 And  the  beauteous  shows  of  earth  invite 
 
 My  heart  to  joy  no  more. 
 
 For  Youth,  that  painted  their  colors, 
 
 And  tuned  their  songs  for  me, 
 No  longer  peoples  the  earth  and  air 
 With  its  forms  and  sights,  divinely  fair, 
 But  hath  left  my  lonely  heart  to  share 
 
 Naught  but  their  memory. 
 
 And  yet,  as  over  my  spirit 
 
 Their  freshening  memory  breathes, 
 Fragrant  with  odors  from  wild-wood  bowers, 
 And  thrilling  with  music  of  by-gone  hours, 
 Sweet  garlands  of  dewy,  youthful  flowers 
 
 Around  my  brow  it  wreathes. 
 
 And  again,  in  the  genial  spring-time, 
 
 I  feel  the  youthful  glow ; 
 Again  heaven's  sparkling  eyes  grow  bright 
 With  something  of  their  ancient  light, 
 And  I  hear  again,  with  dear  delight, 
 
 Birds  sing  and  streamlets  flow. 
 
 The  two  hymns  which  follow  are  copied  from  the  <:  Book  of  Hymns," 
 from  which  they  have  passed  into  a  few  other  Collec'ions  :  — 
 
382 
 
 SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 THE    HYMN    OF    SUMMER. 
 
 T.TOW  glad  the  tone  when  summer's  sun 
 
 Wreathes  the  gay  world  with  flowers, 
 And  trees  bend  down  with  golden  fruit, 
 And  birds  are  in  their  bowers  ! 
 
 The  morn  sends  silent  music  down 
 
 Upon  each  earthly  thing  ; 
 And  always  since  creation's  dawn 
 
 The  stars  together  sing. 
 
 Shall  man  remain  in  silence,  then, 
 
 While  all  beneath  the  skies 
 The  chorus  joins  ?    No,  let  us  sing, 
 
 And,  while  our  voices  rise, 
 
 O,  let  our  lives,  great  God,  breathe  forth 
 
 A  constant  melody, 
 And  every  action  be  a  tone 
 
 In  that  sweet  hymn  to  thee  ! 
 
 ONE    IN    CHRIST. 
 
 T^ROM  Zion's  holy  hill  there  rose 
 
 A  fount  divine,  that  ever  flows  ; 
 Heaven's  smile  is  on  its  waters  shed, 
 By  heaven's  own  clews  the  fount  is  fed. 
 
 That  stream  of  truth  —  a  silver  thread, 
 Scarce  known,  save  by  its  fountain-head  - 
 Now  onward  pours,  a  mighty  flood, 
 And  fills  the  new  formed  world  with  good. 
 
 Where'er  that  living  fountain  flows, 
 New  life  its  healing  wave  bestows, 
 And  man,  from  sin's  corruptions  free, 
 Inspires  with  its  own  purity. 
 
GEORGE  OSGOOD.  383 
 
 A  spirit,  breathed  from  Zion's  hill, 
 In  holy  hearts  is  living  still, — 
 That  Comforter  from  heaven  above, 
 The  presence  of  celestial  love. 
 
 O  may  this  spirit  ever  be 
 One  b'ond  of  peace  and  unity  ! 
 Thus  shall  we  teach,  as  Christ  began, 
 Through  love,  the  brotherhood  of  man. 
 
 GEORGE    OSGOOD. 
 
 (1817.) 
 
 Rev.  George  Osgood,  son  of  Dr.  Joseph  Otis  Osgood  and  Elizabeth 
 (Fogg)  Osgood,  was  born  in  Kensington,  N.H.,  Oct.  8,  1817.  He  grad- 
 uated at  the  Divinity  School,  Cambridge,  in  1847  ;  was  ordained  to 
 the  Christian  ministry  in  Standish,  Me.,  in  1S53  ;  and  was  settled  at 
 Tyngsborough,  Mass.,  in  1855.  He  nas  labored  at  various  other  places  ; 
 but  for  the  last  few  years  his  health  has  been  quite  poor,  and  he  has  con- 
 sequently been  able  to  write  or  preach  but  little.  At  one  time  he  was 
 editor  of  the  "Exeter  [N.H.]  News-Letter. "  He  has  a  decided  taste 
 and  talent  for  poetic  composition,  and  for  many  years  has  contributed 
 verses  to  the  papers,  most  of  them  having  been  originally  written  for  his 
 friends.  The  pure  and  pensive  character  of  his  muse  may  be  seen  from 
 the  specimens  which  we  give  below. 
 
 The  first  of  these  was  written  by  him  during  his  connection  with  the 
 Theological  School.  He  had  an  uncle  in  Danvers,  Dr.  George  Osgood, 
 a  well-known  physician,  whose  name  he  bore,  and  who  had  asked  him,  on 
 one  of  his  visits  to  the  town,  to  write  some  lines  upon  the  new  cemetery 
 in  the  immediate  vicinity.  The  nephew  complied  with  the  request  of 
 his  uncle,  and  gave  the  lines  to  Israel  A.  Putnam,  also  then  a  member  of 
 the  Divinity  School,  for  publication  in  the  "Salem  Register."  "  I  little 
 thought,"  writes  to  us  the  author,  "  that  Israel  would  soon  rest  in  this 
 spot,  and  render  it  dearer  and  holier  by  his  grave.  My  uncle  and  his 
 family  were  buried  in  another  cemetery,  and  your  brother  is  the  only 
 near  friend  I  have  in  Walnut  Grove/' 
 
 WALNUT    GROVE    CEMETERY. 
 
 ""PIS  sweet,  when  life's  last  work  is  done, 
 
 When  we  no  more  the  earth  may  tread, 
 To  find  a  quiet  resting-place 
 
 Where  sleep  our  dear,  lamented  dead. 
 
384      SONGS  OF   THE  LIBERAL   FAITH. 
 
 And  shall  we  find  a  fairer  spot, 
 
 Where  we  may  rest  with  those  we  love, 
 
 Than  'neath  the  spreading  trees  which  shade 
 The  pleasant  grounds  of  Walnut  Grove  ? 
 
 There,  underneath  the  rustic  bridge, 
 
 The  murmuring  brook  comes  stealing  through, 
 While  on  its  banks  unfold  the  flowers 
 
 Of  every  bright  and  lovely  hue ; 
 There  oft  the  evening  birds  will  sing 
 
 In  every  branch  that  waves  above, 
 To  break  the  silence  of  the  scene 
 
 That  else  might  reign  in  Walnut  Grove. 
 
 There,  meet  for  such  a  rural  spot, 
 
 We  mark  the  rude  and  noisy  mill  ; 
 While,  with  its  sunny  waters  bright, 
 
 The  little  pond  is  calm  and  still. 
 The  sloping  banks  and  winding  stream, 
 
 With  all  their  varied  charms,  are  wove 
 For  Nature's  children  to  admire, 
 
 Who  seek  the  walks  of  Walnut  Grove. 
 
 There  oft  in  solemn  hours  shall  come, 
 
 In  grief  and  woe,  the  burial  trains, 
 To  place,  beneath  the  broken  turf, 
 
 Of  dearest  friends  the  last  remains. 
 Oft  by  the  green  or  flowery  grave 
 
 The  silent  mourners,  too,  will  rove, 
 To  weep  above  the  hallowed  dust 
 
 Of  those  who  sleep  in  Walnut  Grove. 
 
 There  weary  age  and  childhood  sweet, 
 
 And  youth  and  beauty,  must  be  laid  ; 
 And  manhood  leave  the  busiest  life 
 
 To  rest  beneath  the  sombre  shade. 
 Yet,  though  their  forms  may  slumber  here, 
 
 The  spirits  of  the  friends  we  love 
 Still  live  in  spheres  unknown  to  those 
 
 Who  tread  the  paths  of  Walnut  Grove. 
 
GEORGE   OSGOOD.  385 
 
 THE    MASTER'S    CALL   AND    LEAD. 
 
 Written  for  the  Graduating  Exercises  at  the  Divinity  School,  Cambridge,  1847. 
 
 A  S  from  these  hallowed  scenes  we  go,  — 
 These  calm  retreats  of  sacred  lore,  — 
 O  God,  thy  glorious  presence  show, 
 To  cheer  us  in  the  work  before ! 
 
 We  seek  the  pure  and  holy  light 
 
 That  in  the  life  of  Jesus  shone, 
 To  guide  us  to  the  true  and  right,  — 
 
 The  faith  that  rests  on  God  alone ! 
 
 With  souls  devoted  to  thy  will, 
 
 We  dare  not  shrink  from  duty's  call, 
 
 But  faithful  to  thy  service  still, 
 
 Though  weal  or  woe  our  lot  befall. 
 
 We  would  with  lowly  trust  rely 
 
 On  every  promise  Jesus  gave, 
 Nor  gaze  with  Peter's  doubting  eye 
 
 Upon  the  wild  and  fearful  wave ; 
 
 But  where  we  mark  the  Saviour's  form 
 Move  calmly  o'er  life's  changing  sea, 
 
 Unwavering  meet  the  darkening  storm, 
 As  those  whose  hope  is  fixed  on  thee. 
 
 LINES    IN    AN    ALBUM. 
 
 From  the  "  Exeter  News-Letter. " 
 
 C\  MAIDEN,  at  the  dawn  of  day, 
 
 With  pure  and  earnest  feelings  pray 
 That  in  the  strait  and  narrow  way 
 
 Thy  feet  may  always  tread  ; 
 And,  in  the  silent  hours  of  night, 
 Seek  from  the  source  of  strength  and  light, 
 That  on  thy  life  no  stain  nor  blight 
 
 Of  sin  may  e'er  be  shed. 
 
 25 
 
386  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 Now,  in  thy  early  womanhood. 
 Keep  every  evil  thought  subdued, 
 And  make  thy  life  so  pure  and  good, 
 
 So  holy  and  serene, 
 That,  when  thy  days  of  life  are  flown, 
 And  thou  from  earth  must  go  alone, 
 Thy  pathway,  down  the  vale  unknown, 
 
 Shall  reach  some  happier  scene  ! 
 
 LINES    ON   THE    LOSS   OF  A   CHILD. 
 
 HTHE  flower  that  opened  to  the  light, 
 All  fresh  with  drops  of  early  dew, 
 Too  soon  was  withered  from  our  sight, 
 And  lost  its  bright  and  lovely  hue. 
 
 The  bird  whose  notes  we  loved  to  hear, 
 While  sweet  he  sung  at  dawn  of  day, 
 
 We  saw  depart  and  disappear 
 In  lonely  forests,  far  away. 
 
 The  star,  which  rose  above  the  hill 
 And  glittered  on  the  rippling  stream, 
 
 W7e  saw  with  hope  and  gladness,  till 
 
 The  clouds  concealed  its  cheering  beam. 
 
 The  child  tfrat  cheered  us,  day  by  day, 
 And  filled  our  home  with  light  and  glee, 
 
 Soon  sweetly,  sadly  passed  away 
 To  joys,  which  now  we  may  not  see. 
 
 As  died  the  sweet,  unfolding  flower, 
 As  flew  the  bird  that  sung  at  dawn, 
 
 As  passed  the  star  at  evening's  hour. 
 So  from  our  eyes  the  child  has  gone. 
 
 The  child,  though  absent  from  our  sight, 
 Among  his  guardian  friends  above, 
 
 Shall  ever,  live  in  memory's  light, 
 And  ever  in  the  light  of  love ! 
 
GEORGE   OSGOOD.  3S7 
 
 The  following  lines  were  occasioned  by  the  death  of  Augustus  F. 
 Pierce,  M.D.,  who  was  a  member  of  Mr.  Osgood's  parish  in  Tyngs- 
 borough,  and  who  died  at  the  early  age  of  twenty-eight,  greatly  lamented 
 by  all  who  knew  him,  and  loved  and  honored  by  a  wide  circle  of  friends. 
 The  lines  originally  appeared  in  the  New  York  "  Christian  Inquirer." 
 
 THE    BELOVED    PHYSICIAN. 
 
 r  I  AHE  year,  as  now  it  dies  away 
 
 Among  its  scenes  of  joy  and  gloom, 
 Reminds  us  of  that  autumn  day 
 
 When  we  stood  weeping  by  the  tomb. 
 
 The  dying  leaves  and  withering  flowers 
 Around  our  path  in  sadness  fell ; 
 
 No  breezes  waved  the  faded  bowers, 
 Nor  moaned  along  the  wooded  dell. 
 
 The  clouds  which  overhung  the  sky 
 Wore  on  their  folds  no  golden  hue ; 
 
 The  silent  river  sweeping  by 
 
 Sent  back  no  gleam  to  cheer  the  view. 
 
 We  mourned  for  one  whose  smile  no  more 
 Shall  bless  us  on  our  weary  way, 
 
 Whose  short  and  earnest  life  was  o'er 
 Ere  time  had  tinged  his  locks  with  gray. 
 
 When  in  the  still  and  darkened  room, 
 Beside  the  bed  of  pain  he  stood,  — 
 
 There,  'mid  the  scenes  of  fear  and  gloom, 
 His  choicest  work  was  doing  good. 
 
 The  sufferer,  in  his  hours  of  pain, 
 Remembers  well  the  work  of  him 
 
 Who  soothed  his  wild  and  aching  brain 
 When  hopes  of  life  seemed  sad  and  dim. 
 
 And  all  who  marked  the  tender  care 
 With  which  his  faithful  work  was  done 
 
 Might  well  rejoice  to  see  how  fair 
 
 His  love  and  skill  could  blend  in  one. 
 
388  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 The  summer  sky,  the  winter  storm, 
 
 The  midnight,  and  the  dawn  of  day- 
 Beheld  his  frail  and  manly  form 
 In  duty's  hard  but  noble  way. 
 
 In  many  a  bright  and  happy  home 
 
 His  name  will  long  be  heard  with  praise  ; 
 
 For  grateful  memories  oft  shall  come 
 Of  him  who  cheered  its  darkest  days. 
 
 A  tomb  within  a  garden  holds 
 
 The  form  we  sadly  laid  to  rest, 
 While  with  new  life  his  soul  unfolds, 
 
 Within  his  Father's  mansions  blest. 
 
 Tyngsboro',  Dec.  31,  1855. 
 
 TRIBUTE 
 To  the  Memory  of  Rev.  Dr.  Willard,*  of  Deerfield,  Mass. 
 
 r  0  AHE  mountains  wild  and  valleys  fair 
 
 Again  in  summer  robes  appear, 
 And  tender  flowers  are  waving  where 
 The  winter  winds  swept  cold  and  clear. 
 
 The  ancient  trees  along  the  street 
 Their  graceful  branches  intertwine, 
 
 To  shade  us  from  the  burning  heat, 
 As  the  bright  rays  of  noontide  shine. 
 
 The  joyous  birds  at  morn  and  eve 
 Their  sweetest  songs  delight  to  sing, 
 
 And  cheer  the  hearts  of  those  who  grieve 
 Among  the  loveliest  scenes  of  spring. 
 
 The  groups  of  children  at  their  play 
 Give  hope  and  gladness  to  the  scene  ; 
 
 As  pass  the  happy  hours  away, 
 
 Like  sunlight  o'er  the  village  green. 
 
 *  Rev.  Dr.  Willard  was  a  well-known  blind  preacher  among  the  Unitarian 
 Churches  in  Massachusetts.  See  the  notice  which  we  have  given  of  him  in  the  first 
 part  of  this  volume,  with  some  of  his  hymns. 
 
GEORGE   OSGOOD.  3^9 
 
 Yet  in  the  sunlight  and  the  shade, 
 One  holy  man  no  more  is  found  ; 
 
 On  yonder  hill  his  form  is  laid, 
 
 To  rest  beneath  the  burial  mound. 
 
 When  dying  leaves  in  sadness  fell, 
 
 Beneath  October's  genial  sun, 
 In  solemn  tones  the  passing-bell 
 
 Told  that  his  earthly  course  was  done. 
 
 Beneath  the  old  trees  of  his  care, 
 The  people,  that  around  him  grew, 
 
 Mourned  sadly,  as  they  gathered  there 
 To  bid  his  hallowed  face  adieu. 
 
 And,  as  they  bore  his  form  to  rest, 
 
 From  all  its  sufferings,  toil,  and  strife, 
 
 They  laid  the  white  cross  on  his  breast,  — 
 An  emblem  of  his  spotless  life. 
 
 And  well  that  cross  became  the  bier 
 Of  one  whose  calm  and  earnest  faith 
 
 Would  never  let  him  shrink  with  fear 
 To  go  to  prison  or  to  death.* 
 
 Oh  !  once,  when  in  the  gathered  crowd 
 
 We  saw  his  aged  form  arise, 
 We  felt  that  nought  could  ever  cloud 
 
 The  truth  that  lit  his  sightless  eyes. 
 
 Like  an  apostle,  he  would  dare 
 
 To  break  the  proud  oppressor's  rod, 
 
 And  without  doubt  or  fear  declare 
 The  counsel  of  the  living  God. 
 
 *  At  a  meeting  of  the  Unitarian  Association  in  his  neighborhood,  shortly  after 
 the  passage  of  the  Fugitive  Slave  Bill,  Dr.  Willard,  in  the  face  of  opposition,  de- 
 nounced the  measure,  and  declared  that  he  could  not  obey  it,  but  was  ready  to  sub- 
 mit to  its  penalty,  which  would  carry  him  to  prison ;  and  that  imprisonment,  at 
 his  age  and  with  his  infirmities,  would  be  death. 
 
39°  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 Like  a  true  martyr,  he  would  end 
 His  life  in  suffering,  woe,  and  pain, 
 
 And  by  his  very  death  befriend 
 
 The  bondman  flying  from  his  chain. 
 
 Like  an  old  prophet,  in  his  might, 
 His  noble  form  arose  sublime, 
 
 As  for  the  cause  of  truth  and  right 
 He  dared  denounce  a  nation's  crime. 
 
 His  reverend  form  has  passed  away  ! 
 
 On  the  pure  river's  fruitful  shore, 
 In  the  full  light  of  perfect  day, 
 
 The  eyes  we  loved  are  dim  no  more. 
 
 R.    C.   WATERSTON. 
 
 (1812.) 
 
 Rev.  Robert  Cassie  Waterston,  son  of  Robert  Waterston,  was  born 
 in  Kennebunk,  Me.,  in  1812;  but  from  his  infancy  he  has  resided  in 
 Boston,  Mass.  He  studied  theology  under  Drs.  Henry  Ware  and 
 John  G.  Palfrey,  at  Cambridge ;  for  five  years  had  the  charge  of  a  Sun- 
 day school  for  the  children  of  seamen ;  for  six  years,  also,  was  con- 
 nected with  the  Ministry  at  Large  and  the  Pitts  Street  Chapel  in  Boston  ; 
 and  for  seven  years  was  pastor  of  the  Church  of  the  Saviour  in  the  same 
 city.  He  has,  since  then,  supplied  pulpits  at  Taunton,  Newburyport, 
 Roxbury,  and  elsewhere.  In  1842  he  published  a  small  volume  of  300 
 pages  on  "Moral  and  Spiritual  Culture,"  which  passed  through  several 
 editions  ;  and  was  republished  in  England  and  also  in  Ireland,  —  having 
 had  there  abroad,  as  well  as  here  in  America,  a  large  circulation.  He 
 received  the  degree  of  A.M.  from  Harvard  College  in  1844. 
 
 Among  his  numerous  published  sketches,  addresses,  reports,  dis- 
 courses, treatises,  poems,  may  be  mentioned  an  article  on  Samuel 
 Taylor  Coleridge,  published  in  the  "North  American  Review"  in  1834; 
 "The  Widow's  Son,  a  Sketch  from  Real  Life"  (first  printed  in  the 
 "Christian  Examiner"),  1843;  Discourse  on  the  Life  and  Character 
 of  Judge  Story  and  John  Quincy  Adams,  1845  antl  ^48  J  "Address  on 
 Pauperism,"  1844;  "Christianity  applied  to  Cities,"  1851  ;  an  article  on 
 the  "Life  and  Works  of  Charles  Robert  Leslie,  the  Artist"  (reprinted 
 from  the  "  North  American  Review "),  1861 ;  Poem,  delivered  at  the 
 Boston  English  High  School,  187 1  ;  Remarks  at  a  Special  Meeting 
 of  the  Massachusetts  Historical  Society,  Dec.  16,  1873,  on  the  One 
 Hundredth  Anniversary  of  the  Destruction  of  the  Tea  in  Boston  Harbor, 
 
A\    C.    WATERSTON.  39 1 
 
 and  printed  in  the  published  Proceedings  of  the  occasion  referred  to, 
 1874;  and  Remarks  on  Louis  Agassiz,  at  a  Memorial  Meeting  of  the  Boston 
 iety  of  Natural  History,  Jan.  7,  1S74.  Mr.  Waterston  has  rendered 
 valuable  service  in  the  cause  of  Education,  and,  as  the  chairman  of  a 
 committee,  wrote  an  admirable  report  of  the  Boston  Schools  for  the  year 
 1S66,  taking  a  wide  survey  of  the  systems  of  popular  instruction  that  pre- 
 vail in  Europe  and  America,  while  he  treated  specially  the  immediate 
 condition  and  needs  of  the  city  he  represented.  As  a  member  of  the 
 Massachusetts  Historical  Society,  he  has  taken  an  active  part  in  its  gen- 
 eral proceedings,  and  contributed  largely  to  the  interest  of  its  meetings 
 by  his  papers  or  addresses. 
 
 In  1S45  ne  published  a  new  edition  of  Greenwood's  excellent  Collec- 
 tion of  "Psalms  and  Hymns;"  connecting  therewith  a  large  number  of 
 supplementary  hymns,  that  greatly  enriched  the  book  and  adapted  it  to 
 "a  wider  circle  of  wants."  The  enlarged  as  well  as  the  original  Compi- 
 lation has  been  very  extensively  used  by  the  Liberal  Churches.  In  the 
 supplement  are  contained  not  a  few  of  Mr.  Waterston's  own  hymns. 
 These,  with  other  pieces  by  the  same  writer,  we  present  here  in  their 
 authorized  form.  They  have  been  highly  commended  by  our  most 
 eminent  bards,  and  some  of  them  have  passed  into  many  volumes  of 
 sacred  poetry. 
 
 SUPPLICATION. 
 
 f^\  LORD  of  Life  !  to  thee  we  pray  ; 
 
 Send  down  thy  Spirit  from  above, 
 And  fill,  great  Fount  of  Truth  !  this  day, 
 Each  mind  with  light,  each  heart  with  love. 
 
 Here  may  a  grateful  people  bow 
 
 To  Him  who  spake  and  it  was  done  ; 
 
 And  ever  be  revered  —  as  now 
 
 Thy  living  word  —  thy  loving  Son. 
 
 Long  may  this  hallowed  Temple  stand, 
 The  hope  of  age,  the  joy  of  youth  j 
 
 A  sacred  watch-tower  in  the  land, 
 A  mighty  battlement  of  Truth  ! 
 
 Thy  suppliant  children  wilt  thou  bless, 
 Conform  our  wills  unto  thine  own, 
 
 Give  to  thy  glorious  word  success, 
 
 And  raise  within  each  soul  thy  throne  !  * 
 
392  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 WORSHIP. 
 
 /^.REAT  Source  of  Good,  our  God  and  Friend, 
 
 Fountain  of  light  and  life  divine  ! 
 Here  thy  adoring  children  bend, 
 And  pray  to  be  for  ever  thine. 
 
 With  thy  best  blessings  crown,  O  God, 
 The  servants  of  the  Prince  of  Peace  \ 
 
 Widely  extend  Heaven's  light  abroad, 
 
 Bid  Knowledge  reign  and  Faith  increase  ! 
 
 Wisdom  to  us  and  Virtue  give  ; 
 
 And  by  thy  Spirit  lead  us  still, 
 With  thee  to  walk,  for  thee  to  live, 
 
 To  love  thy  word,  and  do  thy  will. 
 
 And,  when  our  mission  here  is  o'er, 
 
 Oh,  take  us  to  thyself  in  love, 
 To  know  thee  better,  serve  thee  more, 
 
 And  dwell  with  Christ  in  worlds  above  ! 
 
 TRUTH* 
 
 "  The  Truth  endureth,  and  is  always  strong." 
 
 HPHEORIES,  which  thousands  cherish, 
 
 Pass  like  clouds  that  sweep  the  sky ; 
 Creeds  and  dogmas  all  may  perish  ; 
 Truth  herself  can  never  die. 
 
 From  the  glorious  heavens  above  her, 
 
 She  has  shed  her  beams  abroad, 
 That  the  souls  who  truly  love  her 
 
 May  become  the  sons  of  God. 
 
 *  This  hymn  was  originally  published  in  the  "  Religious  Monthly,"  edited  by 
 £)rs.  Henry  Ware  and  E.  S.  Gannett.  It  has  since  appeared  in  several  Church 
 Collections. 
 
R.    C.    WATERSTON.  393 
 
 Thrones  may  totter,  empires  crumble, 
 
 All  their  glories  cease  to  be  ; 
 While  Truth,  Christ-like,  crowns  the  humble, 
 
 And  from  bondage  sets  them  free. 
 
 God  himself  will  e'er  defend  her 
 
 From  the  fury  of  her  foe, 
 Till  she  in  her  native  splendor 
 
 Sits  enthroned  o'er  all  below. 
 
 GOD    OF   THE   SOUL. 
 
 /^OD  of  the  soul !  oh,  help  us  to  revere 
 
 The  mighty  marvels  thou  hast  centred  here 
 May  no  untimely  frost,  nor  blight  of  sin, 
 Blast  that  immortal  life  which  buds  within. 
 
 Teach  us  to  bow  before  the  inward  light,  — 
 The  sense  of  wrong,  the  consciousness  of  right ; 
 Kindle  that  faith  which  unto  thee  would  soar, 
 Know  thee,  obey  thee,  love  thee,  and  adore  ! 
 
 THE   SON    OF    GOD. 
 
 TN  ages  past,  majestic  prophets  came, 
 
 Truth  to  reveal  and  speak  with  tongues  of  flame  ; 
 By  wondrous  paths  Jehovah  led  their  way, 
 In  signs  of  fire  by  night,  and  cloud  by  day. 
 
 That  prophet  host,  for  this  high  mission  born, 
 Proclaimed  the  coming  of  a  brighter  morn  ! 
 The  Star  of  Day  hung  quivering  on  their  sight, 
 And  the  broad  East  was  all  aglow  with  light ! 
 
 Thus  Jesus  came,  divinest  gifts  to  bring, 
 And  publish  truth  from  heaven's  Eternal  King  ! 
 Angelic  choirs  announced  the  sacred  birth, 
 Good-will  from  God,  salvation  to  the  earth  ! 
 
394  SONGS    OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 Celestial  gates  by  Christ  were  open  thrown, 
 And  bliss  immortal  round  his  pathway  shone  : 
 Wide  as  the  world  his  kingdom  shall  extend, 
 And  blessings  flow,  till  time  itself  shall  end  ! 
 
 HERE   AND    NOW. 
 
 OOK  around  thee  !  say  how  long 
 Shall  the  earth  be  ruled  by  wrong  ? 
 When  shall  error  flee  away  ? 
 And  this  darkness  turn  to  day  ? 
 
 When  will  evil  from  the  soul 
 Render  back  its  dread  control  ? 
 When  shall  all  men  duty  see  ? 
 And  the  world  be  pure  and  free  ? 
 
 Rouse  thee  for  the  mental  strife  ! 
 Gird  thee  for  the  task  of  life ! 
 With  the  sword,  and  with  the  shield, 
 Forward  to  the  battle-field  ! 
 
 "  On  !  "  a  thousand  voices  cry, 
 Through  the  earth,  and  from  the  sky  ; 
 "  Up  !  "  —  Heaven's  light  is  on  thy  brow  ! 
 Let  thy  work  be  Here  and  Now ! 
 
 FAITH   AND    LOVE. 
 
 (~^  LORIOUS  that  Faith  which  prompts  to  deeds  of  love, 
 Seeks  haunts  of  woe,  and  points  to  Heaven  above  ; 
 Hastes  swiftly  forth,  'mid  famine  and  despair, 
 To  make  lone  want  the  object  of  its  care  ! 
 
 Divine  that  Love  which  girds  the  soul  with  might 
 To  vanquish  wrong  and  vindicate  the  Right  ! 
 God  send  such  Love  and  Faith :  so  may  they  now 
 Beam  from  each  eye,  and  kindle  on  each  brow. 
 
J?.    C.    WATERSTON.  395 
 
 NATURE   AND   THE   SOUL. 
 
 TN  each  breeze  that  wanders  free, 
 
 And  each  flower  that  gems  the  sod, 
 Living  souls  may  hear  and  see 
 Freshly  uttered  words  from  God  ! 
 
 Had  we  but  a  searching  mind, 
 Seeking  good  where'er  it  springs, 
 
 We  should  then  true  wisdom  find, 
 Hidden  in  familiar  things  ! 
 
 God  is  present,  and  doth  shine 
 
 Through  each  scene  beneath  the  sky, 
 
 Kindling  with  a  light  divine 
 Eveiy  form  that  meets  the  eye. 
 
 Nature,  with  eternal  youth, 
 Ever  bursts  upon  the  sight ; 
 
 All  her  works  are  types  of  truth,  — 
 Mirrors  of  celestial  light ! 
 
 But  the  soul,  when  veiled  in  sin, 
 And  eclipsed  with  fear  and  doubt, 
 
 From  the  darkened  world  within, 
 Throws  its  shade  on  that  without. 
 
 While  to  those  who,  pure  in  heart, 
 For  the  Truth  their  powers  employ, 
 
 She  will  constant  good  impart, 
 And  diffuse  perpetual  joy. 
 
 If  the  mind  would  Nature  see, 
 Let  her  cherish  Virtue  more  ; 
 
 Goodness  bears  the  golden  key 
 That  unlocks  her  palace-door  1 
 
396  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 LOOKING  UNTO   CHRIST. 
 
 (Never  before  published  or  used  on  any  occasion.) 
 
 TN  darkest  hours  I  hear  a  voice. 
 
 Which  comes  my  saddened  heart  to  cheer, 
 Saying  in  tones  of  love,  —  "  Rejoice  ! 
 Jesus  is  near  !  " 
 
 In  times  of  trial  and  dismay, 
 
 Through  the  dark  gloom  of  doubt  and  fear, 
 There  breaks  a  light,  like  dawning  day,  — 
 "Jesus  is  near!  " 
 
 When  years  autumnal  tokens  bring, 
 
 And  fading  hopes  seem  dry  and  sear, 
 Then  bursts  a  bloom,  like  second  spring,  — 
 "  Jesus  is  near  !  " 
 
 Thus,  when  at  length  the  veil  shall  rise, 
 
 Will  my  enfranchised  spirit  hear, 
 From  angel-voices  through  the  skies,  — 
 "Jesus  is  near!  " 
 
 Not  far  away,  but  close  at  hand, 
 
 A  constant  Friend,  most  true  and  dear ; 
 Gladly  I  follow  Heaven's  command, 
 With  "  Jesus  near  !  " 
 
 FOR   A   RELIGIOUS   FESTIVAL. 
 
 f~\  God  of  Light  and  Love  ! 
 
 Look  from  thy  throne  above, 
 
 And  bliss  impart ; 
 While  we  as  brothers  meet, 
 Holding  communion  sweet, 
 Make  thou  our  joy  complete ; 
 
 Bind  heart  to  heart. 
 
R.    C.    IVATERSTOX.  Z97 
 
 And  as  the  opening  spring 
 From  the  brown  earth  doth  bring 
 
 Flowers  into  birth  j 
 So  may  thy  truth  be  heard, 
 So  by  thy  glorious  word 
 May  every  soul  be  stirred, 
 
 O'er  all  the  earth. 
 
 God  bless  the  Christian  band, 
 Who,  through  our  wide-spread  land, 
 
 Go  forth  in  might ; 
 Where  western  rivers  blend, 
 Where  ancient  forests  bend, 
 May  they  the  Truth  defend, 
 
 And  scatter  light. 
 
 And  o'er  the  ocean  wide, 
 Of  the  Atlantic  tidej 
 
 Bless  those  we  love  ; 
 Touch  them  with  holy  flame, 
 As,  in  Jehovah's  name, 
 They  to  the  world  proclaim 
 
 Truth  from  above. 
 
 Great  God,  with  heavenly  power, 
 Fill  thou  this  sacred  hour  j 
 
 Make  us  as  one  : 
 May  we  united  be  ; 
 Keep  us  from  error  free,  — 
 True  to  thy  word  and  thee, 
 
 True  to  thy  Son. 
 
 The  above  hymn  was  written  for  the  Annual  Meeting  of  the  Unitarian 
 clergy  and  laity,  Boston,  May  27,  1845.  The  Hon.  John  Quincy  Adams 
 presided,  and  made  the  introductory  address.  The  interest  was  very 
 great,  and  it  was  throughout  a  most  memorable  occasion,  —  by  no  one 
 present  ever  to  be  forgotten.  The  following  was  sung  as  the  fifth  verse, 
 in  allusion  to  the  venerable  and  illustrious  presiding  officer  :  — 
 
 Bless  thou  the  Patriot  Sire, 
 Who,  warm  with  Freedom's  fire, 
 Spreads  light  abroad  ; 
 
39^  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 He  like  a  rock  has  stood 
 'Mid  strife  of  fire  and  flood, 
 True  to  his  country's  good, 
 True  to  his  God. 
 
 The  Rev.  Dr.  Pierce,  with  his  snow-white  locks,  at  President  Adams's 
 right  hand,  led  in  the  singing ;  and,  when  this  verse  was  commenced,  he 
 lifted  up  his  arm  and  pointed  to  Mr.  Adams,  at  the  same  time  raising 
 his  voice  to  its  utmost  power,  the  vast  multitude  heartily  uniting.  The 
 enthusiasm  was  literally  beyond  description. 
 
 CHRISTIAN    BENEVOLENCE. 
 
 Trust  in  the  Lord  and  do  good,  and  he  shall  bring  it  to  pass." 
 
 ORD  of  all,  we  bow  before  thee, 
 Pouring  out  our  thoughts  in  song ; 
 May  we  feel,  while  we  adore  thee, 
 That  to  thee  all  things  belong. 
 Every  hour  thy  love  attends  us  ; 
 And,  amidst  each  outward  ill, 
 Thou  art  ready  to  befriend  us, 
 To  protect  and  guide  us  still. 
 
 May  we,  all  these  joys  possessing, 
 
 Think  of  those  who  have  them  not, 
 And  amid  each  outward  blessing 
 
 Let  not  others  be  forgot. 
 Those  are  round  us  bowed  in  anguish, 
 
 Fond  hopes  crushed  and  hearts  betrayed, 
 Who  'mid  want  and  sickness  languish, 
 
 Perishing  for  lack  of  aid. 
 
 By  the  Truth  that  Jesus  taught  us, 
 
 By  the  Life  that  he  made  sure. 
 By  the  Gospel  that  he  brought  us, 
 
 Let  us  aid  and  love  the  poor ! 
 Let  us  seek  each  haunt  of  sadness, 
 
 Where  sit  Famine  and  Despair, 
 Till  each  heart  is  filled  with  gladness, 
 
 And  each  soul  is  raised  in  prayer. 
 
R.    C.    WATERSTON.  399 
 
 HYMN. 
 
 Written  for  a  Sunday  school. 
 
 /^REAT  God,  in  heaven  above, 
 We  offer  up  in  love 
 
 This  hymn  of  praise  ; 
 Help  us,  O  Lord,  to  be 
 True  worshippers  of  thee, 
 And  keep  us  ever  free 
 
 From  evil  ways. 
 
 May  all  our  teachers  feel 
 A  pure  and  holy  zeal 
 
 To  serve  thee  well ; 
 And  may  they,  hand  in  hand, 
 A  blest  and  happy  band, 
 Lead  children  to  that  land 
 
 Where  angels  dwell. 
 
 May  every  opening  mind 
 Some  true  instruction  find, 
 
 Some  glory  see  ; 
 And,  like  the  budding  flower 
 Beneath  the  summer's  shower, 
 Show  tokens  of  that  power 
 
 Which  comes  from  thee. 
 
 ON   THE    DEATH    OF   A   CHILD. 
 
 Sung  by  her  classmates. 
 
 /^NE  bright  flower  has  drooped  and  faded, 
 ^^^     One  sweet  infant-voice  has  fled  ; 
 One  fair  brow  the  grave  has  shaded  ; 
 One  dear  schoolmate  now  is  dead. 
 
 We  would  feel  no  pang  of  sadness, 
 
 For  our  friend  is  happy  now  : 
 She  has  knelt,  in  soul-felt  gladness, 
 
 Where  the  blessed  angels  bow. 
 
400  SONGS   OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 She  is  now  where  harps  are  ringing 
 Through  the  heavenly  courts  above  ; 
 
 And  her  silvery  voice  is  singing, 
 With  glad  spirits,  hymns  of  love. 
 
 She  has  gone  to  heaven  before  us, 
 But  she  turns  and  waves  her  hand, 
 
 Pointing  to  the  glories  o'er  us, 
 In  that  happy  spirit-land. 
 
 May  our  footsteps  never  falter 
 In  the  path  that  she  has  trod  ; 
 
 May  we  worship  at  the  altar 
 Of  the  great  and  living  God  ! 
 
 Lord,  may  angels  watch  above  us, 
 Keep  us  all  from  error  free  ; 
 
 May  they  guard,  and  guide,  and  love  us, 
 Till,  like  her,  we  go  to  thee. 
 
 ANNIVERSARY   HYMN. 
 
 TT7HEN  Israel's  host,  in  days  of  old, 
 
 Had  reached  in  joy  a  place  of  rest, 
 They  to  their  children's  children  told 
 
 How  righteous  Heaven  their  sires  had  blest ; 
 That  God  had  led  the  appointed  way, 
 In  fire  by  night,  in  cloud  by  day. 
 
 Thus  even  now,  O  Lord,  we  stand, 
 And  gladly  count  thy  blessings  o'er ; 
 
 Guarded  and  guided  by  thy  hand, 
 Thy  sovereign  love  we  would  adore  : 
 
 Be  with  us  here  in  gracious  power, 
 
 And  crown  with  joy  this  festal  hour. 
 
R.    C.   WATERSTON.  401 
 
 Here,  to  this  shrine,  each  heart  has  brought 
 
 The  tribute  of  its  grateful  love  ; 
 Guide  thou  the  teachers  and  the  taught, 
 
 Oh,  grant  thy  blessing  from  above  ! 
 And  guard  us  still,  'mid  hopes  and  fears, 
 Even  as  thou  hast  through  all  our  years. 
 
 The  above  hymn  was  written  for  the  celebration  of  the  Fiftieth 
 Anniversary  of  the  settlement  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Pierce,  of  Brookline, 
 March  15,  1S47,  at  which  time  Dr.  Pierce  was  seventy-four  years  of  age. 
 The  last  verse  was  as  follows  :  — 
 
 Oh,  be  thou  still  our  Shield  and  Rock, 
 
 Lead  us  where  thou  wouldst  have  us  go \  — 
 
 The  shepherd,  circled  by  his  flock ; 
 The  patriarch,  with  locks  of  snow  ! 
 
 Oh,  guard  us  still,  'mid  hopes  and  fears, 
 
 Even  as  thou  hast  for  fifty  years  ! 
 
 PARTING    HYMN. 
 
 This  hymn  was  written  at  the  request  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Gannett,  for  the  memorial  service 
 of  the  Federal  Street  Meeting-House,  March  13,  1859,  the  church  in  which  the  Rev.  Dr. 
 Planning  preached  through  the  years  of  his  active  ministry,  and  to  the  close  of  his  life, 
 —  the  farewell  service  being  there.     This  was  the  last  hymn  ever  sung  in  that  church. 
 
 'T^HOU  who  did'st  aid  our  sires  to  raise, 
 
 Of  old,  this  house  of  prayer  and  praise  ! 
 As  from  this  sacred  shrine  we  part, 
 Touch  thou  each  soul,  inspire  each  heart. 
 
 Thou,  who  hast  here  thy  influence  given, 
 And  made  this  place  the  gate  of  heaven, 
 As  hence  we  go,  still  grant  each  hour 
 Thy  guiding  hand,  thy  quickening  power. 
 
 While  the  immortal  ages  last, 
 Bless  to  each  mind  the  hallowed  Past  ; 
 The  Future,  Lord,  with  trust  and  prayer, 
 We  leave  to  thy  protecting  care  ! 
 26 
 
402 
 
 SONGS   OF   THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 THE    SOUL. 
 
 HP  HE  soul  does  its  own  life  to  Nature  give, 
 
 Its  tranquil  beauty,  or  its  fearful  gloom  ; 
 And  thus  within  Elysium  it  may  live, 
 Or  in  appalling  darkness  fix  its  doom. 
 
 E'en  as  the  sun,  by  gazing  on  a  cloud, 
 
 Fills  each  dark  fold  with  showers  of  golden  light : 
 So,  when  the  storms  of  life  are  beating  loud, 
 
 May  one  true  Thought  make  all  around  it  bright. 
 
 That  scene  which  seems  most  desolate  to  Sin, 
 To  Virtue's  eye  becomes  an  Eden  fair : 
 
 The  outward  world  takes  hue  from  that  within  ; 
 The  blessing,  or  the  curse,  is  centred  there. 
 
 Shall,  then,  the  soul  its  honor  cast  away? 
 
 Changing  for  weakness  its  celestial  might, 
 Turn  from  the  splendor  of  Eternal  Day, 
 
 And  dash  to  earth  its  glorious  crown  of  light  ? 
 
 Or,  with  a  holy  trust  and  faith  sublime, 
 Shall  it  pursue  the  path  by  angels  trod, 
 
 Taste  joys  immortal  while  it  lives  in  time, 
 And  hold  mysterious  intercourse  with  God  ? 
 
 Deeper  than  ocean  be  its  boundless  love ; 
 
 Higher  than  Heaven  its  aspirations  rise, 
 Bold  on  the  wings  of  thought  to  soar  above, 
 
 And  with  far-spreading  pinion  sweep  the  skies. 
 
 While  Truth's  pure  beams  around  its  pathway  shine, 
 A  present  heaven  will  dwell  within  the  breast ; 
 
 The  kindling  soul  shall  glow  with  life  divine, 
 And  earth  become  like  mansions  of  the  blest ! 
 
X.    C.    VVATERSTON.  4°3 
 
 CEASELESS  ASPIRATIONS. 
 
 "  The  eye  is  not  satisfied  with  seeing,  nor  the  ear  filled  with  hearing." 
 
 "VTOT  all  the  beauties  of  this  joyous  earth, 
 
 Its  smiling  valleys  or  its  azure  sky, 
 Or  the  sweet  blossoms  that  in  quiet  mirth 
 
 Turn  their  soft  cheeks  to  winds  that  wander  by, 
 Can  please  enough  the  ear,  or  satisfy  the  eye  ! 
 
 The  silver  fountain,  with  its  misty  shower  ; 
 
 The  curling  wave,  dissolving  on  the  shore  ; 
 The  clouds  that  feed  with  dew  each  infant  flower  ; 
 
 The  small  stream's  gentle  song,  the  ocean's  roar,  — 
 All  give  the  mind  delight,  and  yet  it  seeks  for  more ! 
 
 Thus  doth  the  soul,  by  its  innate  desire, 
 Give  inward  prophecy  of  what  shall  be  !  — 
 
 The  spirit  struggling,  higher  yet,  and  higher, 
 Panting  for  light,  and  restless  to  be  free, 
 
 Foreshadows  in  itself  its  immortality  ! 
 
 MORTAL   AND    IMMORTAL. 
 
 "  In  soul,  man  mounts  and  flies; 
 In  flesh  he  dies  : 
 Not  that  he  may  not  here 
 Taste  of  the  cheer  ; 
 But  as  birds  drink,  and  straight  lift  up  their  head, 
 So  may  he  sip,  and  think 
 Of  better  drink 
 He  may  attain  to,  after  he  is  dead.' ' 
 
 Herbert. 
 
 ["   STAND  between  the  Future  and  the  Past,— 
 That  which  has  been  and  that  which  is  to  be  ;  — 
 A  feeble  ray  from  the  Eternal  cast ; 
 
 A  scanty  rill,  that  seeks  a  shoreless  sea  ; 
 A  living  soul,  treading  this  earthly  sod  ; 
 A  finite  being,  yet  a  child  of  God  ! 
 
404 
 
 SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 A  body  crumbling  to  the  dust  away  ; 
 
 A  spirit  panting  for  eternal  peace  ; 
 A  heavenly  kingdom  in  a  frame  of  clay  ; 
 
 An  infant-angel  fluttering  for  release  ; 
 An  erring  man,  whose  race  has  just  begun  ; 
 A  pilgrim,  journeying  on  from  sun  to  sun  ! 
 
 Creature  of  clay,  yet  heir  of  future  life  ; 
 
 Dweller  upon  a  world  I  shall  outlive  ; 
 Soldier  of  Christ,  battling  midst  earthly  strife, 
 
 Yet  hoping,  by  that  strength  which  God  may  give, 
 To  burst  the  doors  of  death,  and  glorying  rise 
 Triumphant  from  the  grave,  to  tread  the  skies ! 
 
 THE  CROWN   OF   LIFE. 
 
 1  She  hath  received  a  glorious  kingdom,  and  a  beautiful  crown  from  the  Lord's  hand." 
 
 r  I  AHE  veil  has  dropped ;  her  spirit  now, 
 
 Intense  with  life,  hath  soared  above :  — 
 Where  angels  and  archangels  bow, 
 
 She  breathes  her  holy  hymns  of  love. 
 The  seed  hath  sprung  into  a  tree ! 
 The  flower  hath  burst  its  bud  !    The  immortal  soul  is  free  ! 
 
 Oh,  death  is  full  of  life  !     Nought  dies 
 
 But  that  which  should.     Earth  takes  its  own, 
 
 That  the  ethereal  may  arise, 
 
 And  dwell  by  the  Eternal  Throne. 
 
 Thus  comes  the  full  outshining  light 
 Of  that  unending  Morn,  which  knows  no  night. 
 
 Gaze  on  that  form  :  nay,  lift  thine  eye, 
 
 And  gaze  above.     She  is  not  here ; 
 She  hath  arisen  to  worlds  on  high, 
 
 And  dwelleth  in  a  purer  sphere. 
 That  frame  of  dust  she  hath  laid  clown, 
 To  gain  a  robe  of  light,  and  a  celestial  crown  ! 
 
J?.   C.    WATERSTON.  405 
 
 The  veil  has  dropped.     Her  inward  eye 
 
 Has  seen  the  mysteries  of  God  ; 
 And  onward,  through  the  star-paved  sky, 
 
 'Mid  heaven's  bright  glory  she  has  trod. 
 Angels,  around,  their  joyous  notes  prolong, 
 While  her  sweet  voice  unites  in  their  triumphant  song ! 
 
 THE    DEPARTED. 
 
 4<  Compassed  about  with  so  great  a  cloud  of  witnesses." 
 Ne'(f>os  /JiapTUpwf. 
 
 /^ENIUS  for  us  has  wrought, 
 
 Martyrs  have  bravely  died  midst  flood  and 
 fire, 
 And  patriots  gladly  sought 
 Within  our  souls  fresh  valor  to  inspire  ! 
 
 Their  voice  is  on  the  air  ; 
 They  speak  in  every  breeze,  where'er  we  roam  ; 
 
 They  bid  us  guard  with  care 
 The  virtues  of  our  country  and  our  home. 
 
 Their  influence  fills  the  Past 
 With  noble  thoughts  and  generous  deeds  sublime, 
 
 Rich  legacies  — to  last 
 From  sire  to  son,  throughout  all  coming  time. 
 
 The  present  hour  is  theirs  ; 
 Of  half  our  good  are  they  the  Primal  Cause  ; 
 
 Their  struggles,  hopes,  and  prayers, 
 Have  given  to  us  both  Liberty  and  Laws. 
 
 The  Nations  have  their  dead,  — 
 Brave  souls,  that  like  the  stars  of  light  do  shine  ; 
 
 Great  spirits,  who  have  led 
 Benighted  millions  on  to  life  divine. 
 
 And  saintly  forms  above, 
 Gentle  and  fair,  may  hover  o'er  the  earth, 
 
 And  bend  in  holy  love 
 O'er  each  sad  heart  that  mourns  departed  worth. 
 
406  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FATTH. 
 
 O,  might  some  heavenly  hand 
 Draw  back  the  shadowy  curtains  of  the  sky, 
 
 That  once  that  glorious  band 
 Of  bright  angelic  souls  could  meet  the  eye  ! 
 
 But  they  are  with  us  still 
 In  thought  and  deed.     Yes,  they  are  with  us  here, 
 
 To  sanctify  the  will, 
 To  soothe  each  grief,  and  calm  each  idle  fear. 
 
 At  the  soft  sunset  hour, 
 When  evening's  splendors  melt  along  the  sky, 
 
 We  feel  their  hallowing  power 
 To  kindle  faith  and  raise  the  heart  on  high. 
 
 The  mystery  of  life  ! 
 O  who  can  sound  its  depths  ?     Its  bliss  ?  its  woe  ? 
 
 Its  fears  ?  its  hopes  ?  its  strife  ?  — 
 Their  meaning  all,  —  not  men  nor  angels  know  ! 
 
 We  are  fast  hastening  on  : 
 Soon  must  the  path  of  death  by  us  be  trod : 
 
 When  life's  great  work  is  done, 
 May  we  be  with  Heaven's  host,  and  with  our  God  ! 
 
 Our  faith,  our  works  of  love, 
 Our  charity  within  the  haunts  of  woe,  — 
 
 When  we  shall  soar  above, 
 The  influence  of  these  must  live  below. 
 
 The  memory  of  the  just 
 Shall  still  be  dear,  whate'er  their  earthly  lot : 
 
 Dust  may  return  to  dust, 
 But  Virtue  lives,  and  cannot  be  forgot. 
 
 Mrs.  Anna  C.  L.  Waterston,  the  wife  of  Rev.  Robert  C.  Waterston, 
 is  the  youngest  daughter  of  the  late  Hon.  Josiah  Quincy,  of  Boston,  and 
 grand-daughter  of  Josiah  Quincy,  Jr.,  of  Revolutionary  memory.  She 
 was  married  in  1840.  Some  of  her  verses  were  printed  in  1863,  in  a 
 small  volume,  from  which  we  take  two  pieces,  adding  two  others  which 
 were  written  shortly  afterward. 
 
ANNA    C.   L.    WATERSTOX.  407 
 
 In  explanation  of  the  first  lines  which  we  copy,  it  may  be  said  that 
 they  refer  to  the  young  and  beautiful  daughter  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Water- 
 ston,  who,  after  having  with  her  parents  passed  two  years  in  Europe, 
 and,  just  as  they  were  all  about  to  return  home,  died  at  Naples,  July  25, 
 She  was  born  on  the  6th  day  of  January,  —  the  date  being  that 
 of  the  Epiphany.  Edmund  Quincy,  in  his  "  Life  of  Josiah  Quincy," 
 thus  writes  of  his  venerated  father  in  connection  with  the  afflicting  event 
 of  her  death  :  "  While  his  latter  days  went  down  blest  with  all  that 
 should  accompany  good  old  age,  he  was  not  exempted  from  the  bereave- 
 ments and  sorrows  which  are  also  its  inevitable  attendants.  In  the  mid- 
 summer of  1S5S,  his  grand-daughter,  Helen  Ruthven  Waterston,  the 
 only  surviving  child  of  his  daughter  Anna,  died  at  Naples,  Italy,  at  the 
 age  of  seventeen  years.  I  need  not  describe  the  grief  which  the  un- 
 timely blighting  of  this  fair  blossom  brought  to  him  and  to  us  all."  Of 
 this  dear  child  the  poet  Bryant  thus  wrote  in  his  "  Letters  from  Spain  :  " 
 "  I  confess  I  felt  a  degree  of  pride  in  so  magnificent  a  specimen  of  my 
 countrywomen  as  this  young  lady  presented,  —  uncommonly  beautiful 
 in  person,  with  a  dignity  of  presence  and  manner  much  beyond  her 
 years,  and  a  sweetness  no  less  remarkable  than  the  dignity."  And  the 
 poet  Whittier  has  made  her  the  motive  of  one  of  the  most  exquisite  of 
 his  recent  lesser  poems,  which  he  entitles  "Naples,  i860." 
 
 THE    EPIPHANY. 
 
 "  And  the  star  stood  over  where  the  young  child  lay."      Jan.   6,  1841  (the  birthday 
 of  H'  R.  \V.). 
 
 TX  life's  horizon  rose  a  star 
 L'pon  that  sacred  night : 
 The  light  it  brought  from  worlds  afar 
 Blest  seventeen  years  of  sight. 
 
 It  shone  upon  a  Northern  home, 
 
 A  star  of  morning  fair,  — 
 Glanced  on  the  ocean's  stormy  foam, 
 
 And  gladdened  English  air. 
 
 O'er  Alpine  mountain-tops  it  glowed  ; 
 
 And,  with  a  gentle  ray, 
 Where  Rhine  and  Neckar  calmly  flowed, 
 
 Lit  up  a  poet's  way. 
 
 It  passed  o'er  far  Italian  lands,  — 
 
 The  fairest  earth  can  show  ; 
 Where  Genius  at  Art's  altar  stands, 
 
 And  flowers  of  beauty  grow. 
 
408  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 The  steep  Etruscan  towns  are  seamed 
 With  age  and  wound  and  scar; 
 
 Yet  hues  of  youth  upon  them  gleamed, 
 Reflected  from  that  star. 
 
 Light  on  old  storied  Rome  it  shed 
 
 (By  time  and  tempest  riven)  ; 
 While  many  there  looked  up,  and  said, 
 
 "  It  is  a  light  from  heaven." 
 
 But  where  the  tideless  sea  of  blue 
 
 Reflects  a  burning  height, 
 God  took  that  star  of  heavenly  hue, 
 
 And  shut  it  from  earth's  sight. 
 
 Since  then,  the  sun  and  moon  have  shone,  — 
 
 Orbs  fair  by  day  and  night  ; 
 Dimly  they  shine  to  me,  alone, 
 
 Without  that  holier  light. 
 
 But  life's  horizon  widens  round, 
 
 Beyond  their  path  afar  ; 
 And,  when  I  pass  their  circle's  bound, 
 
 I  shall  behold  my  star. 
 
 ON    AN    ENGRAVING    OF   THE    CRUCIFIXION    BY 
 HENRY   GOLTZIUS,    1583. 
 
 "\"\70RK  of  a  hand  whose  graver  cut 
 
 Deep  in  the  steel  the  vision  given 
 Unto  unsealed  eyes  of  Faith, 
 
 When  ancient  Art  drew  nigh  to  heaven  ! 
 
 Dark  roll  the  awful  clouds  above 
 
 The  city  of  the  faithless  crowd, 
 While  on  the  rude  and  bark-stript  tree 
 
 The  thorn-crowned  head  is  meekly  bowed ; 
 
 And,  gazing  on  the  Sufferer  there, 
 
 Three  friends  are  watching  through  the  night : 
 
 Yet  falter  not;  —  they  know  the  sign 
 
 That  makes  death,  life;  and  darkness,  light. 
 
 ■L 
 
ANNA    C.   L.    WATERSTON.  409 
 
 Between  me  and  that  scene  is  thrown 
 
 \  1  hue  of  color ;  to  my  eyes 
 The  gulf  of  time  is  spanned,  and  bears 
 
 The  impress  of  the  sacrifice. 
 
 I  know  the  sign,  and  fain  would  cling 
 In  hope  beside  the  faithful  Three  ; 
 
 And  watch  the  mighty  love  upraised 
 
 Upon  the  blood-stained,  bark-stript  tree. 
 
 TOGETHER. 
 
 A  tribute  to  Colonel  Robert  G.  Shaw,  who  fell,  July  iS,  1863,  at  Fort  Wagner,  at  the 
 head  of  his  brave  colored  men  of  the  54th  Massachusetts  Volunteer  Regiment. 
 
 r\  FAIR-HAIRED  Northern  hero, 
 
 With  thy  guard  of  dusky  hue  ! 
 Up  from  the  field  of  battle 
 Rise  to  the  last  review. 
 
 Sweep  downward,  holy  angels, 
 
 In  legions  dazzling  bright, 
 And  bear  these  souls  together 
 
 Before  Christ's  throne  of  light. 
 
 The  Master,  who  remembers 
 
 The  cross,  the  thorns,  the  spear, 
 Smiles  on  the  risen  Freedmen, 
 
 As  their  ransomed  souls  appear. 
 
 And  thou,  young,  generous  spirit, 
 
 What  will  thy  welcome  be  ? 
 "  Thou  hast  aided  the  down-trodden, 
 
 Thou  hast  done  it  unto  Me." 
 
 INSTALLATION    HYMN. 
 
 Written  for  the  installation  of  Rev.  Alfred  P    Putnam  as  pastor  of  the  Church  of  the 
 Saviour,  Brooklyn,  N.Y.,   Sept.  28,  1864. 
 
 "^"O  Sabbath  hush,  to-day,  has  led 
 
 Our  thoughts  towards  this  house  of  prayer, 
 But  surging  sounds  of  toil  and  strife 
 Were  vibrant  on  the  autumn  air. 
 
410  SONGS   OF   THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 From  out  our  busy  life  we  come, 
 And  at  the  sacred  altar  pause, 
 
 With  rites  to  consecrate  anew 
 
 This  servant  to  the  Master's  cause,  — 
 
 That  Master  whose  pervading  eye 
 
 Viewed  the  vast  scene  of  tireless  work  ; 
 
 And  gave  alike  his  thought  and  care 
 
 Where  saints  could  kneel,  or  sinners  lurk. 
 
 The  crowded  haunts  of  men  diverged 
 From  near  the  Temple's  lofty  shrine : 
 
 In  both,  the  Anointed  Teacher  stood, 
 With  healing  touch,  with  word  divine. 
 
 Within  these  walls,  'mid  yonder  crowd, 
 O  Father,  grant  that  now,  as  then, 
 
 By  holy  deeds,  and  fervent  words, 
 The  Master  be  revealed  again ! 
 
 THOMAS    HILL. 
 (1818.) 
 
 Rev.  Thomas  Hill,  D.D.,  LL.D.,  was  born  at  New  Brunswick,  N.J., 
 Jan.  7,  1818.  His  parents  were  both  of  English  birth,  his  mother  being 
 a  grand-niece  of  Joshua  Toulmin,  the  biographer  of  Socinus,  and  an  emi- 
 nent Unitarian  minister  as  well  as  author.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hill  both  died 
 while  the  son  was  at  an  early  age.  When  only  twelve  years  old,  he  was 
 apprenticed  to  a  printer,  with  whom  he  remained  three  years.  Subse- 
 quently he  was  for  three  years,  also,  an  apothecary's  boy.  In  May,  1838, 
 he  left  the  apothecary  shop,  and  began  to  study  Latin  and  Greek  with  Rev. 
 Mr.,  now  Dr.,  Rufus  P.  Stebbins.  He  graduated  at  Harvard  College  in 
 1843,  and  at  the  Cambridge  Divinity  School  in  1845.  He  then  went  to 
 Philadelphia,  in  the  hope  of  establishing  a  Second  Unitarian  Church  in 
 that  city.  In  the  same  year,  December  24,  he  was  ordained  pastor  of  the 
 Unitarian  Church  at  Waltham,  Mass.,  where  he  remained  for  fourteen 
 years.  In  1859,  after  the  death  of  Horace  Mann,  he  succeeded  that  dis- 
 tinguished educator  as  the  President  of  Antioch  College,  Ohio  ;  and  when 
 this  institution  was  closed  for  a  time,  in  consequence  of  the  breaking  out 
 of  the  war,  he  was  called  to  the  Presidency  of  Harvard  College.     He 
 
Our  reference  last  week  to  Dr.  Thom- 
 as Hill  as  a  representative  of  a  type  of 
 Unitarians  which  is  growing,  unhappily, 
 less,  may  be  illustrated  by  the  following 
 lines  which  we  find  copied  in  an  appre- 
 ciative notice  of  Dr.  Hill  in  the  last 
 Christian  Mirror  published  in  Portland. 
 The  poem  has  for  its  title  "  Lo,  Nehush- 
 tan,v  and  that  title  was  derived  from  II 
 Kings  xviii :  4.  The  students  of  our 
 last  International  Sunday-school  lesson 
 will  be  reminded  in  the  last  stanza  of 
 Mary  Magdalene's  feeling  in  the  thought 
 of  losing  her  Lord.  That  form  of  liber- 
 alism which  takes  from  human  worship 
 supreme  affection  and  obedience,  and 
 the  Divine  Redeemer,  was  to  Dr.  Hill  as 
 it  is  to  the  millions  of  the  Christian 
 world — a  fell  spoiler. 
 
 11  They   grieve    my    heart — these    thoughtless 
 men  who  try 
 To  hide  my  Lord  from  eyes  of  dying  men; 
 To   shroud    the    world    in    heathen    night 
 again, 
 And  drag  the    star   of  Bethlehem    from    the 
 sky. 
 
 "  They  hold  his  majesty  a  vain  pretense; 
 
 They  snatch    the    royal    scepter    from  his 
 
 hand, 
 Deny  his  right  to  promise  or  command, 
 And  barely  own  his  human  excellence. 
 
 "  Therefore  I  weep  like  Mary,  at   His  grave, 
 
 Because  my  Lord  they  have  thus  borne  away, 
 
 To  hide  Him  from  '..he  eyes  of  dying  men. 
 
 Vet  H^^s  risen  now  as  he  had  then; 
 
 I   Look  u]  ■fcuth  !  His    light    outshines    the 
 
 \ 
 
 grac^^Hll  'omnipotent  to  save.' 
 
1 
 
 inmates   of  the  work-house,  ask 
 no  more  liquor  license  be  grantee? 
 This  petition,  which  is,  as  far  as  I  ki 
 the  first  of  its  kind,  is  worthy  of  a  i 
 circulation,  so  I  will    not  apologize 
 quoting  it :     "We,  the  undersigned 
 zens   of  the  United  States,  tempor 
 residing  in  the  Washington  City  Asy! 
 commonly  called  the  work-house,  w< 
 respectfully  but  most  earnestly  pray 
 honors  not  to  grant  any  more  liquo 
 censes.     We  have  been  informed   i 
 high  authority,  and  we  fully  believe  j 
 our  own  observations,  that  the  cura 
 the  Lord  Almighty  rests  upon  the  d:| 
 ard,  and  woe  unto  him   that  givetj 
 neighbor  drink,  that  putteth   the   j 
 to  him  and  makerh  him  drunken,  f1 
 our  earnest  desire  to  overcome  the  sfc 
 and  disgrace  to  which  intoxicatingJe 
 has,  directly  or  indirectly,  brougl 
 and  to  again  become  worthy   and 
 abiding    citizens.     To   this  end  I 
 for  honest  employment  and   fair/7 
 and  that  all  places  of  licensed  f 
 tion  and  rum  may  be  forever  bi 
 from    the   capitol   of  our   natio/ 
 therefore  beseech  you  to  aid  us  bM 
 ing  this,  our  prayer."  I 
 
 Secretary  Foster  has  been  cop 
 his  room  ever  since  his  recent 
 New  York  city,  and  it  is  notu 
 chat  he  will  be  able  to  resume  ( , 
 this  week.  His  physician  saw 
 a  well-developed  case  of  lagrii,1 
 was  so  prevalent  here  a  year  a;i 
 
 The  annual  report  of  thjy| 
 the  Interior,  made  publi'j^HV  ° 
 very    interesting    docunSjWk, 
 
 t h of   tV»A  r^nprsl    T  nnrl   TmM 
 
THOMAS  HILL.  411 
 
 continued  in  the  latter  position  for  six  years,  when  he  was  obliged  to  sur- 
 render it  by  very  severe  domestic  afflictions,  which  greatly  impaired  his 
 health.  In  the  winter  of  1S70-71,  he  represented  the  town  of  Waltham 
 in  the  Massachusetts  Legislature.  Still  later,  he  accompanied  Agassiz 
 in  the  voyage  of  the  "  Hassler."  lie  was  installed  pastor  of  the  First 
 Parish  in  Portland,  Me.,  May  18,  1S73. 
 
 Dr.  Hill's  sermons  and  addresses,  printed  in  pamphlet  form,  and  his 
 contributions  to  magazines,  reviews,  and  newspapers,  have  been  very 
 numerous,  and  have  been  generally  scientific,  theological,  or  religious  in 
 their  aim  and  character.  He  was  the  first  person  to  propose  daily  pre- 
 dictions of  the  weather,  founded  on  telegraphic  reports,  which  he  did 
 in  a  series  of  articles  in  the  "  City  Item,"  of  Philadelphia,  in  the  winter 
 and  spring  of  1S47-4S.  He  published  a  little  book,  entitled  "Geometry 
 and  Faith,"  in  1849,  and  has  also  given  to  the  press,  in  separate  form, 
 several  mathematical  treatises,  beside  furnishing  many  able  and  valu- 
 able mathematical  articles  to  the  periodicals,  to  Appleton's  Cyclopaedia, 
 and  to  the  American  Scientific  Association.  He  was  the  inventor  of  an 
 instrument,  now  the  property  of  the  Observatory  at  Harvard  College, 
 which  predicts  the  phases  of  eclipses  and  occupations,  for  any  latitude  or 
 longitude.  In  1S59  he  published  a  volume  of  sermons,  "Jesus  the  Inter- 
 preter of  Nature."  Dr.  Hill  received  the  degree  of  D.D.  from  Harvard 
 College  in  1S60,  and  that  of  LL.D.  from  Yale  College  in  1863. 
 
 While  he  has  attained  to  so  much  eminence  in  the  departments  of 
 Science,  Education,  and  Theology,  it  is  not  so  well  known  that  he  has, 
 during  many  years,  written  or  translated  several  hundred  hymns  or 
 poems  of  decided  excellence.  Perhaps  two-thirds  of  the  number  have 
 been  original  compositions,  and  the  large  proportion  of  them  which  he 
 has  published  have  been  given  to  the  "Christian  Register,"  "Christian 
 Examiner,"  "Phonographic  Magazine,"  the  "Atlantic,"  "Putnam's 
 Monthly,"  the  "  Monthly  Magazine,"  and  other  papers  and  periodicals, 
 generally  appearing  under  the  letters  "H.  T.,"  "T.,"  "H.,"  "Z,"  &c. 
 The  first  of  these  was  printed  in  the  "  Christian  Register,"  in  1838.  They 
 reveal  at  once  the  author's  well-known  love  and  appreciation  of  Nature, 
 his  strong  and  fervent  Christian  faith,  and  his  familiar  acquaintance  with 
 the  laws  of  metrical  versification.  From  scattered  sources  we  bring 
 together  and  place  before  our  readers  the  following  pieces,  only  wishing 
 we  had  room  for  others  at  our  command. 
 
 INSTALLATION    HYMN. 
 
 Originally  written  by  Dr.  Hill  for  his  own  ordination  in  1843,  but  altered  for  his  installa- 
 tion in  1873. 
 
 C\  THOU  whose  spirit  Moses  did  inspire, 
 
 And  touched  the  prophets'  lips  with  holy  fire, 
 But  brightest  glowed  in  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord,  — 
 The  midday  glory  of  the  eternal  word, — 
 
412 
 
 SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 With  heavenly  light  thy  servant  here  inspire  ! 
 Touch  thou  his  lips  with  true  prophetic  fire  ! 
 Teach  him  to  utter  boldly  all  thy  word, 
 Yet  meekly  follow  his  ascended  Lord. 
 
 That  from  his  lips  the  glowing  truth  may  burn 
 Deep  in  our  hearts,  to  life  our  deadness  turn  \ 
 And,  by  his  guidance  led,  at  length  may  we 
 Come  to  the  fold  of  Christ,  to  heaven,  and  thee. 
 
 The  following  is  a  hymn  that  was  written  for  the  ordination  of  Rev. 
 Martin  W.  Willis,  in  1843,  hut  altered,  like  the  other,  for  the  writer's 
 own  installation  :  — 
 
 THE   ETERNAL  WORD. 
 
 HPHE  whispering  sea,  the  thundering  surf, 
 
 The  peaceful  vale,  the  mountain  height, 
 The  wind,  the  storm,  the  darkening  cloud, 
 And  heaven's  all-glorious  orbs  of  light,  — 
 These  are  thy  ministers,  O  God  ! 
 These  are  the  preachers  of  thy  word. 
 
 But  not  through  these  alone,  thy  words 
 Our  drowsy  souls  to  life  awake  ; 
 The  Eternal  Word,  thy  truth  and  light, 
 From  Jesus'  lips  and  actions  break ; 
 We  would  with  love  and  reverence  hear, 
 And  in  obedient  faith  draw  near. 
 
 O  Father  !  fill  the  hearts  of  those 
 Who  speak  in  Jesus'  holy  name, 
 With  all  the  power  of  truth  and  love ; 
 With  love  like  that  in  which  He  came 
 To  hang  on  Calvary's  awful  tree, 
 And  draw  our  conquered  hearts  to  thee. 
 
 DEDICATION   HYMN. 
 
 Written  for  the  dedication  of  the  Unitarian  Church,  in  Walpole,  N.H.,  in  1843. 
 
 TDEGIRT  with  wood-crowned  hills, 
 
 In  loveliness  arrayed, 
 This  vale,  a  temple  built  by  God, 
 Was  for  his  worship  made. 
 
HYMN. 
 
 The  following  from  the  Independent, 
 is  by  Thomas  Hill,  d.d.,  formerly  Presi- 
 dent of  Harvard  University,  now  Pastor 
 of  the  First  Unitarian  Church  in  Port- 
 land, Maine  : 
 
 0  holy  Lamb  of  God  I 
 Must  thou  to  slaughter  go  f 
 And  on  thy  sinless  shoulders  bear 
 Our  heritage  of  woe  ? 
 
 Must  thou  endure  our  grief  ? 
 Our  stripes  be  laid  on  thee  ? 
 The  sins  of  many  must  thou  take, 
 And  thus  our  ransom  be  ? 
 
 What  depth  of  wondrous  love 
 Could  lead  thee  thus  to  die  ? 
 The  garden  and  the  cross  to  meet 
 For  sinners  such  as  I ! 
 
 0  take  my  stubborn  heart, 
 And  mold  it  at  thy  will ; 
 Thy  love  makes  rebel  pride  submit, 
 And  passion's  tempest  still. 
 
druggists. — A  dv. 
 
 Iron  has  improved  somewhat.  Petroleum,  lard 
 wheat  were  up  in  price  a  little  last  week.  General  t 
 showed  decided  improvement. 
 
 S.  T.  WILLIAMS,  A  PROMISING  DRUGCr 
 of  Salisbury,  Md.,  wrote,  Jan.  25,  1878  :  "  Send  rat 
 dozen  Tutt's  Pills,  and  if  they  prove  what  you  cl 
 them  I  will  order  more."     Feb.  19  he  writes: 
 me  two  dozen  more  of  Dr.  Tutt's  Liver  Pills,  by 
 mail.    They  are  doing  wonders  here." — Adv. 
 
 GOOD  FOR  BABIES. 
 When  I  have  a  baby  at  breast,  nothing  is  so  u; 
 quieting  my  own  and  baby's  nerves  as  Parker's 
 Tonic.     It  prevents  bowtl  complaint/  and  is  bette 
 any  stimulant  to  give  strength  and  appetite. — A  N« 
 Mother. — Adv. 
 
 >TS 
 
 DR.  BENSON'S  SKIN  CURE  CONSIS 
 internal  and  external  treatment,  and  contains  no  pot 
 ous  drugs. — A  dv. 
 
 FLIES,  ROACHES,  ANTS,  BED-BUGS,  RA 
 mice,  crows,  chipmunks  cleared  out  by  "  Rough 
 Rats."     15  cents — Adv. 
 
 AYER'S  HAIR  VIGOR  IS  SAFE,  AGREEA1 
 and  beneficial.  It  is  the  most  elegant,  and  its  effects 
 very  lasting,  making  it  the  most  economical  of  to 
 preparations.  By  its  use  ladies  can  keep  their  1 
 abundant  and  natural  in  color,  lustre,  and  texture.     I 
 
THOMAS  HILL.  4T3 
 
 The  birds,  at  early  dawn, 
 
 To  him  their  matins  raise  ; 
 The  water's  roar,  at  evening,  brings 
 
 Its  vesper-hymn  of  praise. 
 
 While  Nature  lifts  its  voice, 
 
 We  would  not  silent  be, 
 But  gladly,  Lord,  these  walls  have  raised, 
 
 In  which  to  worship  thee. 
 
 Here  let  the  holy  font, 
 
 The  supper's  sacred  rite, 
 And  living  word  of  truth,  impart 
 
 Their  sanctifying  light. 
 
 With  thine  own  presence  bless 
 
 This  house  for  us,  O  God  ! 
 Help  us  to  honor  Jesus'  name, 
 
 And  spread  thy  truth  abroad. 
 
 CARPE   DIEM. 
 
 These  lines  are  clipped  from  a  newspaper.    The  song  sang  itself  to  the  author  one  summer 
 morning  in  1S64,  before  he  arose. 
 
 T3UILD  not  on  to-morrow, 
 
 But  seize  on  to-day  ! 
 From  no  future  borrow, 
 The  present  to  pp.y. 
 
 Wait  not  any  longer 
 
 Thy  work  to  begin  ; 
 The  worker  grows  stronger,  — 
 
 Be  steadfast  and  win. 
 
 Forebode  not  new  sorrow,  — 
 
 Bear  that  of  to-day, 
 And  trust  that  to-morrow, 
 
 Shall  chase  it  away. 
 
414  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 The  task  of  the  present 
 
 Be  sure  to  fulfil  ; 
 If  sad,  or  if  pleasant, 
 
 Be  true  to  it  still. 
 
 God  sendeth  us  sorrow 
 And  cloudeth  our  day  ; 
 
 His  sun  on  the  morrow 
 Shines  bright  on  our  way. 
 
 QUANDO   VENIET   LUX? 
 
 From  the  "Monthly  Magazine,"  June,  1866. 
 
 TN  this  green  lane  we  often  walked, 
 And  oft  my  heart  within  me  burned, 
 As  did  the  hearts  of  those  returned 
 From  Emmaus,  who  with  Christ  had  talked. 
 
 The  golden  hand  of  Spring  has  thrown 
 Again  the  king-cup  by  the  hedge, 
 And  strewed  with  calthas  yonder  sedge  ; 
 
 But  I  walk  down  the  lane  alone. 
 
 No  Spring's  returning  hand  has  power 
 To  bring  thee  to  my  side  again  ; 
 The  south-wind  woos  the  grave  in  vain  ; 
 
 In  vain  the  sun,  or  vernal  shower. 
 
 The  bobolink  soars,  as  soars  the  lark, 
 And  pours  his  sweetness  o'er  the  lawn  ; 
 Rejoicing  in  the  earliest  dawn 
 
 The  more,  the  more  the  night  was  dark. 
 
 A  deeper  darkness  death  than  night : 
 When  shall  its  awful  shadows  break  ? 
 Its  slumberers  to  life  awake  ? 
 
 What  songs  shall  hail  that  holier  light  ? 
 
 i 
 
THOMAS  HILL.  415 
 
 REDEEMING    LOVE. 
 
 From  the  "  Monthly  Magazine,"  March,  186S. 
 
 f~\  LORD  !  the  riches  of  thy  grace 
 
 As  far  transcend  my  sorest  needs 
 As  thy  blue  heaven's  unbounded  space 
 Outspreads  the  circle  of  my  deeds. 
 
 I  sank  beneath  my  weight  of  woe, 
 
 Beneath  the  burden  of  my  fears  ; 
 Thy  grace  bade  every  terror  go, 
 
 And  changed  to  laughter  all  my  tears. 
 
 Black  was  the  night  my  sins  had  made, 
 Sore  anguish  racked  my  troubled  breast ; 
 
 Thy  grace  dispelled  the  awful  shade, 
 And  bathed  my  soul  in  heavenly  rest. 
 
 How  infinite  my  debt,  O  Lord  ! 
 
 Yet  I  behold  in  Jesus'  face, 
 I  hear  in  his  life-giving  word, 
 
 The  pledge  of  thy  forgiving  grace. 
 
 My  trust  is  still  thy  boundless  love  ; 
 
 My  strength  is  thine  almighty  arm  ; 
 Nor  time,  nor  death,  my  faith  shall  move ; 
 
 Not  hell  itself  thy  child  can  harm. 
 
 EASTER   HYMN". 
 
 From  the  "  Monthly  Magazine,"  June,  1869. 
 
 "EXTERNAL  Father!  at  whose  word 
 Creation  flashed  to  instant  birth, 
 Thy  will,  which  gave  this  body  life, 
 Bids  it  return  to  lifeless  earth. 
 
 But  thou  didst  send  that  risen  Lord, 
 
 Who  once  in  Joseph's  garden  lay, 
 Burst  from  the  night  of  transient  death, 
 
 And  called  us  to  immortal  day. 
 
T 
 
 416  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 In  his  dear  name  we  ask  thy  help, 
 
 By  faith  in  him  to  live  and  die  ; 
 That,  when  our  bodies  sleep  in  dust, 
 
 We  may  with  him  ascend  on  high. 
 
 Eternal  Father  !  by  thy  word 
 
 Raise  us  from  sin  and  death's  dark  night  ■ 
 That  we  may  even  now  with  Christ 
 
 Dwell  in  the  realms  of  heavenly  light. 
 
 MEMORIAL    HALL. 
 
 Written  for  the  laying  of  the  corner-stone  of  Memorial  Hall,  Cambridge,  Oct.  6,  187c 
 
 /^H,  holy  is  the  golden  light 
 
 ^     Of  the  October  day, 
 When  summer  leaves  in  dolphin-hues 
 Of  beauty  pass  away. 
 
 But  holier  the  mellow  glow 
 
 Fond  memory  throws  around 
 The  names  of  those  whose  noble  lives 
 
 A  noble  death  has  crowned. 
 
 More  brilliant  than  on  forest-trees 
 
 The  ripened  leaf  can  be, 
 The  splendor  of  their  glorious  deeds 
 
 For  God  and  Liberty. 
 
 For  ever  hallowed  are  these  shades, 
 
 Where,  in  the  bloom  of  youth, 
 They  consecrated  every  power 
 
 To  Christ,  his  Church  and  Truth. 
 
 And  hallowed  is  their  native  land, 
 For  which  their  strength  they  gave, 
 
 To  serve  her  in  her  hour  of  need,  — 
 Then  filled  the  hero's  grave. 
 
 More  lasting  than  this  sacred  hall 
 
 Their  deathless  fame  shall  be, 
 Wreathed  in  a  nation's  gratitude 
 
 Through  all  eternity. 
 
THOMAS  HILL.  417 
 
 ANTIOPE. 
 
 Written  in  the  Straits  of  Magellan,  in  the  spring  of   1S72,  and  published  in  the  "  Monthly 
 Magazine,"  May,  1873. 
 
 A  T  dead  of  night  a  south-west  breeze 
 
 Came  silently  stealing  along  ; 
 The  bluebird  followed  at  break  of  day, 
 Singing  his  low,  sweet  song. 
 
 The  breeze  crept  through  the  old  stone-wall, 
 And  wakened  the  butterfly  there  ; 
 
 And  she  came  out,  as  morning  broke, 
 To  float  through  the  sunlit  air. 
 
 Within  this  stormy,  rifted  heart 
 
 The  softening  influence  stole, 
 Filling  with  melodies  divine 
 
 The  chambers  of  my  soul ; 
 
 With  gentle  words  of  hope  and  faith, 
 
 By  lips  now  sainted  spoken  ; 
 With  vows  of  tenderest  love  toward  me, 
 
 Which  never  once  were  broken. 
 
 At  morn  my  soul  awoke  to  life, 
 
 And  glowed  with  faith  anew  ; 
 The  buds  that  perish  swelled  without, 
 
 Within  the  immortal  grew. 
 
 SUBMISSION. 
 
 From  the  "  Monthly  Magazine,"  May,  1873. 
 
 f~\  GOD,  mine  eyes  and  ears  unseal 
 ^^^    To  see  thine  angels  ever  near, 
 And  hear  their  voices  ;  may  I  feel 
 Nor  rebel  pride,  nor  slavish  fear. 
 
 27 
 
41 8  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL   FAITH. 
 
 I  bless  thee  for  the  holy  joys 
 
 Thy  grace  has  taught  my  glowing  heart ; 
 Henceforth  thy  will  be  all  my  choice,  — 
 
 I  could  not  choose  a  better  part. 
 
 Each  dearest  hope,  each  anxious  fear, 
 My  fondest  longings,  I  would  still ; 
 
 I  lay  them  on  thine  altar  here, 
 And  only  seek  to  do  thy  will. 
 
 "OUT   OF   THE   DEPTHS." 
 
 From  the  "  Monthly  Magazine,"  August,  1873. 
 
 C\  GOD,  my  agony  is  great ! 
 ^^^     Yet  thine  the  hand  that  struck  the  blow ; 
 Help  me  in  patient  hope  to  wait, 
 Till  thy  full  purpose  I  may  know. 
 
 I  know  thou  dost  not  wound  in  vain, 
 For  thou  art  love,  and  changest  not : 
 
 Thou  sendest  both  the  joy  and  pain 
 That  vary  still  my  earthly  lot. 
 
 I'll  think  of  dread  Gethsemane,  — 
 Of  all  my  Saviour's  anguish  there ; 
 
 And  then  the  burden  laid  on  me 
 Becomes  as  light  as  summer  air. 
 
 GOD,  OUR    ETERNAL  JOY. 
 
 From  the  "  Monthly  Magazine,''  December,  1873. 
 
 f~\  THOU,  whose  boundless  power  and  love 
 
 Still  with  unerring  wisdom  move, 
 And,  thy  grand  purpose  to  fulfil, 
 Command  creation  at  thy  will,  — 
 
 What  duty  or  what  bliss  have  I 
 But  trustful  in  thy  hand  to  lie  ? 
 My  only  strength  and  wisdom,  Lord, 
 Are  strict  obedience  to  thy  word. 
 
JOHX  WEISS,  4!9 
 
 Let  not  my  wayward  passions  draw 
 My  rebel-heart  to  hate  thy  law  ; 
 But  let  almighty  grace  control, 
 To  sweet  submission,  all  my  soul. 
 
 The  joys  and  comforts  I  have  known 
 Flowed  from  thy  bounteous  hand  alone  : 
 Let  all  my  hope  and  longing  be 
 To  find,  for  ever,  joy  in  thee. 
 
 JOHN   WEISS. 
 
 (1818.) 
 
 Rev.  John  Weiss  was  born  in  Boston,  Mass.,  June  28,  1S1S.  lie 
 was  a  pupil,  first,  of  Chauncy  Hall  School  in  his  native  city,  and  after- 
 ward in  Framingham  Academy.  He  graduated  at  Harvard  College  in 
 1837  ;  was  subsequently  employed  in  teaching  in  Chauncy  Hall,  and  at 
 Jamaica  Plain  ;  and  in  1S40  entered  the  Cambridge  Divinity  School,  grad- 
 uating in  1843.  **e  spent  the  winter  of  1842-43  in  Heidelberg  Univer- 
 sity. He  was  ordained  as  pastor  of  the  Unitarian  Church  at  Watertown, 
 Mass.,  as  the  successor  of  Rev.  Convers  Francis,  D.D.,  in  October,  1843. 
 Two  years  later,  he  resigned  his  charge  in  consequence  of  his  strong 
 Anti-Slavery  convictions.  He  was  recalled,  however,  in  April,  1846. 
 Again  resigning  his  position,  he  was  installed  as  pastor  of  the  First  Con- 
 gregational Society  in  New  Bedford,  December,  1847.  Ill-health  obliged 
 him  to  surrender  this  new  trust  in  the  following  spring  ;  and,  removing  to 
 Milton,  he  engaged  in  lecturing,  and  also  preached  for  the  Hollis  Street 
 Church  in  Boston.  In  June,  1869,  he  was  once  more  invited  back  to  the 
 Watertown  Church,  but  declined  the  call,  that  he  might  devote  himself 
 mainly  to  literary  pursuits.  In  1S73  ^e  removed  to  Boston,  where  he 
 now  resides. 
 
 Among  his  lectures  are  several  courses  upon  Greek  Religious  Ideas  ; 
 twelve  lectures  upon  Humor  in  Shakespeare,  and  Shakespeare's  Women  ; 
 others  on  Music,  and  others  still  upon  topics  of  Free  Religion.  In 
 1S45  he  published  an  American  and  also  an  English  edition  of  the 
 "Philosophical  and  Esthetic  Letters  and  Essays  of  Schiller,  translated, 
 with  an  Introduction  ;  "  Preface  to  an  American  Edition  of  Smith's 
 Memoir  of  Fichte,  1846 ;  "  Life  and  Correspondence  of  Theodore 
 Parker,"  two  vols.,  American  edition,  1864,  English  edition,  same  vear  ; 
 and  "American  Religion,"  187 1.     From  1845  to  l%74  be  published  forty 
 
420  SOArGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 sermons  and  lectures.  Among  these  were  notable  utterances  in  relation 
 to  the  Free  Soil  Movement,  the  Rendition  o£  Anthony  Burns,  and  the 
 general  subject  of  Slavery  and  the  War.  The  list  of  Mr.  Weiss's  pub- 
 lished magazine  articles,  essays,  and  poems,  include  eleven  in  the 
 "  Christian  Examiner,"  from  1846  to  1866,  the  principal  ones  being  two 
 upon  the  German  Catholic  Movement  of  John  Ronge  and  the  Friends  of 
 Light,  one  upon  Motley's  Dutch  Republic,  one  upon  Thoreau,  and  one 
 upon  White's  Shakespeare  ;  sixteen  in  the  "  Atlantic  Monthly,"  among 
 which  are  "  Some  Soldier  Poetry,"  and  the  "Horrors  of  San  Domingo," 
 the  latter  being  continued  through  several  numbers  ;  three  poems  in  the 
 "  Galaxy  ;  "  an  article  on  Haiti,  in  "  Old  and  New  ;  "  fourteen  in  "  The 
 Radical,"  the  most  important  being  "Dangers  of  our  Political  Machin- 
 ery," "Principles,"  "Religion  and  Science,"  "George  Washington," 
 "  Man  the  Temple,"  "The  Essential  Jesus,"  "Natural  Warnings,"  and 
 "Woman  Suffrage."  Beside  these  have  been  several  other  poems,  and 
 various  book-reviews.  These  productions,  generally,  we  need  scarcely 
 add,  are  marked  by  a  striking  originality  and  brilliancy  of  thought  and 
 expression,  by  an  intense  intellectual  power  and  earnestness  of  convic- 
 tion, and  by  an  evidence  of  scholarly  and  literal  y  attainments,  which 
 have  given  to  this  radical  preacher  and  author  a  leading  position  in  the 
 school  to  which  he  belongs.  In  all  the  long  protracted  struggle  for  the 
 emancipation  of  the  slave,  and  for  the  establishment  of  justice  and  freedom 
 in  the  land,  Mr.  Weiss  bore  his  brave  and  unfaltering  testimony  for  the 
 right,  with  Willard,  Pierpont,  Parker,  Furness,  Clarke,  and  others,  whose 
 names  have  already  appeared  on  our  pages. 
 
 The  following  hymn  was  written  by  him  for  Visitation  Day,  when 
 he  graduated  from  the  Divinity  School,  in  1843.  ^  *s  taken  from 
 the  "  Book  of  Hymns."  Parts  of  it  are  printed  in  the  "  Hymns  of 
 the  Spirit,"  and  in  Bullfinch's  "  Harp  and  Cross."  The  few  verbal  altera- 
 tions which  have  been  made  in  this  hymn,  and  in  the  one*that  succeeds 
 it,  from  their  original  form,  are  by  Mr.  Weiss  himself. 
 
 EPIPHANY. 
 
 A    WONDROUS  star  our  pioneer, 
 We  left  the  mystic  land 
 Where  heaven-nurtured  childhood  slept, 
 Where  yet  old  visions  stand. 
 
 O  God  !  the  land  of  dreams  we  left, 
 
 Repose  we  left  for  aye, 
 And  followed  meekly  to  the  place 
 
 Where  our  Redeemer  lay. 
 
JOHN  WEISS.  42! 
 
 That  humble  manger  we  have  found  ; 
 
 The  world  his  cradle  is  ; 
 His  life  is  hidden  tar  below 
 
 Its  sins  and  miseries. 
 
 The  world  throws  wide  its  brazen  gates, 
 
 With  thee  to  enter  in  ; 
 O,  grant  us,  in  our  humble  sphere, 
 
 To  free  that  world  from  sin. 
 
 We  have  one  mind  in  Christ  our  Lord 
 
 To  stand  and  point  above  ; 
 To  hurl  rebuke  at  social  wrong ; 
 
 But  all,  O  God,  in  love. 
 
 The  star  is  resting  in  the  sky  : 
 
 To  worship  Christ  we  came  ; 
 The  moments  haste  !     O,  touch  our  tongues 
 
 With  thy  celestial  flame  ! 
 
 The  truest  worship  is  a  life ; 
 
 All  dreaming  we  resign  ; 
 We  lay  our  offerings  at  thy  feet,  — 
 
 Our  lives,  O  God,  are  thine  ! 
 
 FOR   A  SUMMER   FESTIVAL. 
 
 From  the  "  Book  of  Hymns." 
 
 "DEXEATH  thy  trees  to-day  we  met, 
 
 Amid  thy  summer  flowers  ; 
 And  every  heart  is  blessing  yet 
 These  happy,  fleeting  hours. 
 
 But  creeping  shades  to  vespers  call, 
 
 And  timely  love  impart, 
 To  make  our  latest  shadows  fall 
 
 From  sunshine  in  the  heart. 
 
422  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 Yes,  even  so  :  the  summer  leaf, 
 The  summer  flowers,  declare 
 
 Their  childlike,  chastening  belief, 
 That  thou  dost  make  them  fair. 
 
 0,  let  us  cherish  nature's  creedj 
 And  live  and  bloom  to  thee  ; 
 
 For  only  childlike  hearts,  we  read, 
 Can  grace  eternity. 
 
 ORDINATION    HYMN. 
 
 Written  by  Mr.  Weiss  for  his  own  ordination  at  Watertown,  Oct.  25,  1843.     This  hymn 
 appears  in  no  printed  Collection. 
 
 A    MEMORY  of  vanished  dreams, 
 
 Young  wishes,  hopes,  in  fading  gleams 
 Still  linger,  but  their  life  has  fled  ; 
 To-day  must  rank  them  with  the  dead. 
 
 Thy  servant's  sandals  still  are  wet 
 With  Jordan's  wave  but  lately  met ; 
 And  in  that  sacred  river  fall 
 The  olden  thoughts,  the  spirit's  pall. 
 
 He  stands  upon  a  holy  land, 
 Great  spirits  hold  his  trustful  hand ; 
 A  Jordan  sa'nctifies  the  breast, 
 A  Christ  now  leads  him  to  his  rest. 
 
 His  rest  ?     His  battle  !     He  must  win 
 Fair  Zion's  gate  through  ranks  of  sin  ; 
 Why  are  these  words,  this  solemn  show, 
 If  sin  be  not  his  deadly  foe  ? 
 
 There  comes  in  light  no  heavenly  host, 
 No  fiery  tongues  of  Pentecost ; 
 No  gentle  dove  with  winnowing  wings 
 The  Spirit  to  thy  servant  brings. 
 
 I 
 
JOHN   WEISS.  423 
 
 The  still,  small  voice  hath  called  him  here, 
 And  thus  is  God  himself  most  near  \ 
 My  people,  lift  a  heart  in  prayer, 
 And  keep  your  God  for  ever  there. 
 
 The  following  pieces,  contributed  to  this  volume,  have  never  before 
 been  published  :  — 
 
 BLEST   SPIRIT   OF   MY    LIFE. 
 
 "DLEST  spirit  of  my  life,  oh,  stay  ! 
 
 Let  not  this  rapture  vanish  soon  ; 
 For  thus  my  earth  is  snatched  away, 
 And  lifted  into  heaven's  noon. 
 
 How  clear  the  vision  !  how  serene 
 
 The  air  through  which  my  thoughts  aspire  ! 
 My  narrow  clay  they  leave  to  glean 
 
 In  fields  of  infinite  desire. 
 
 Oh,  greatest  grief  of  many  days, 
 
 It  is  that  thou,  my  heaven,  art 
 So  far,  so  faintly  come  the  rays 
 
 That  kindle  heaven  in  my  heart. 
 
 To-day  a  prisoner  on  leave 
 
 Am  I  :  must  I  to  bounds  return  ? 
 
 Then  make  me  blest  that  I  can  grieve, 
 And  satisfied  that  I  can  yearn. 
 
 Thou  Light,  that  makest  lesser  lights 
 To  shine,  burn  up  my  cloudy  sky  ! 
 
 To  morning  change  my  frequent  nights  ; 
 Drop  planets  to  me  from  on  high. 
 
 My  hope  is  wide  to  take  them  in, 
 per  than  sight  do  I  adore  ! 
 I  am  a  little  sail  to  win 
 
 In  thy  great  breath  my  native  shore. 
 
424  SONGS  OF   THE  LIBERAL   FAITH. 
 
 HOPE    OF    IMMORTALITY. 
 
 >r  I  ^IS  the  youth  in  all  my  motion, 
 
 'Tis  the  blush  upon  my  cheek  j 
 Daily  a  persisting  ocean 
 
 Fills  and  leaves  my  little  creek. 
 
 Though  its  lines  may  shift  and  alter, 
 Still  there  rides  the  Holy  Ghost ; 
 
 Till  the  tide  itself  shall  falter, 
 There  must  always  be  a  coast. 
 
 Can  the  sky  forbid  its  cunning 
 
 Waves  that  mould  and  wet  my  lips  ? 
 
 Will  Eternity,  set  running, 
 Me  alone  contrive  to  skip  ? 
 
 'Tis  the  vein  within  that  dances 
 
 To  the  piping  of  my  youth  ; 
 'Tis  the  very  thought  that  glances 
 
 Doubts  across  the  noon  of  truth. 
 
 'Tis  the  pang  my  heart  that  seizes, 
 
 When  my  vice  invades  its  hall  ; 
 'Tis  the  God  who  grants  fresh  leases, 
 
 Granting  breath  to  stand  or  fall. 
 
 'Tis  the  rhyme  where  Heaven  fits  me, 
 
 Ocean's  rote  to  every  shore  ; 
 Sense,  intent,  and  chord  that  hits  me, 
 
 When  the  less  doth  crave  the  more. 
 
 »o^o« 
 
 JOHN   W.  WEIDEMEYER. 
 
 (1819.) 
 
 John  W.  Weidemeyer  was  born  at  Fredericksburg,  Va.,  and  was  of 
 German  parentage.  He  has  lived  mostly  in  New  York  City,  Brooklyn, 
 and  vicinity.  He  finished  his  educational  studies  in  the  grammar  school 
 of  Columbia  College  ;  taught  during  several  years  at  a  seminary  near 
 
JOIIX   JF.    WEIDEMEYER.  425 
 
 Dayton,  Ohio  ;  married  Miss  Mary  C.  Ilartt,  at  Lansingburgh,  N.Y., 
 in  1851  ;  and  now  resides  in  New  York  City,  where  for  many  years  he 
 has  been  engaged  in  business. 
 
 When  a  boy,  he  wrote  anonymously  for  Horace  Greeley's  "New 
 Yorker,"  and  for  others  of  the  metropolitan  weeklies  ;  in  early  manhood 
 contributed  several  poems  to  "  Godey's  Lady's  Book,"  and  to  sundry 
 Western  periodicals,  and  also  published  some  monographs  and  cata- 
 logues on  subjects  connected  with  the  natural  history  of  our  own  coun- 
 try ;  in  1S65  gave  to  the  press  a  small  collection  of  poems,  entitled 
 "  Real  and  Ideal,"  which  received  high  encomiums  from  Fitz-Greene  Hal- 
 leck  and  other  competent  authorities  or  critics;  and  in  1S67  published 
 a  larger  edition  of  the  latter,  under  the  title  of  "Themes  and  Transla- 
 tions," the  name  of  the  author  in  each  edition  appearing  as  "John  W. 
 Montclair."  The  later  volume  was  favorably  noticed  by  such  stern  and 
 fearless  reviews  as  the  "British  Quarterly,"  the  "  Westminster  Review," 
 "Triibner's  London  Literary  Record,"  and  the  "London  Bookseller." 
 Occasional  pieces  have  since  been  printed,  under  the  author's  real  name, 
 in  the  New  York  "Liberal  Christian,"  the  "Atlantic  Monthly,"  and 
 other  publications. 
 
 From  "  Themes  and  Translations,"  we  take  the  two  following  poems, 
 both  of  them  being  among  Mr.  Weidemeyer's  original  productions. 
 
 HAPPINESS. 
 
 TTAPPY  the  man,  who,  sauntering  on  his  way, 
 
 By  thought  supplants  life's  solitude  and  gloom 
 To  his  keen  relish  blooms  the  weedy  path, 
 The  trodden  grass  dispenses  sweet  perfume. 
 
 Happy :  to  him  disorder  fashions  laws 
 
 That  into  oneness  shape  each  fragment  part ; 
 
 To  him  earth's  stricken  and  repulsive  forms 
 Bespeak  the  affluence  of  Nature's  art. 
 
 Thrice  happy  he  who  musing  sports  his  clays 
 L'pon  the  greensward,  by  the  mystic  tree  ; 
 
 His  longings  there  are  lifted  to  the  clouds, 
 And  starward  bound,  unto  eternity. 
 
 And,  though  his  feet  be  planted  on  the  earth, 
 The  wave  of  spirit-voice  shall  carry  him 
 
 Where  he  may  claim  his  heritage  of  birth, 
 In  practised  speech  with  kindred  seraphim. 
 
426 
 
 SOA'GS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 THE    SPIRIT'S    REVELATION. 
 
 "  And  she  sits  and  gazes  at  me 
 
 With  those  deep  and  tender  eyes, 
 Like  the  stars,  so  still  and  saint-like, 
 Looking  downward  from  the  skies." 
 
 Henry  W.  Longfellow. 
 
 "pORMS  beloved,  whose  memory  haunts  me, 
 
 In  mementoes  near  me  dwell  ; 
 Oft  they  come  in  evening  visions, 
 Or  in  dreams  their  legends  tell. 
 
 Sad  and  lonely,  but  unspoken 
 
 Fancy  reaches  far  away  ; 
 When  some  sudden  thrill  awakes  me, 
 
 And  a  seraph  seems  to  say : 
 
 "  Though  we  may  not  break  the  secret 
 
 That  the  gates  of  death  reveal, 
 In  the  gray  night's  gloom  and  stillness, 
 
 Drawn  toward  the  earth  we  feel. 
 
 "  For  there  is  a  strange  communion 
 
 'Twixt  men  and  our  spirit-band  ; 
 Oft  in  omens  we  approach  ye, 
 
 Brethren  of  our  ancient  land. 
 
 "  From  the  glittering  orb  of  even, 
 
 Gliding  down  upon  its  beams, 
 Noiseless  as  the  step  of  Zephyr, 
 
 Do  we  visit  you  in  dreams. 
 
 "  At  the  couch  of  all  true-hearted, 
 Stand  we  guardian,  in  their  sleep  ; 
 
 For  the  loved  ones  left  behind  us 
 Do  we  faithful  vigils  keep. 
 
 "  See  yon  spirit-mother  hovers 
 
 O'er  her  fondly  cherished  child  : 
 Weeps  in  smiles  of  tender  sorrow, 
 
 Drinks  its  breath  with  rapture  wild. 
 
JOILY   W.    U'EIDEMEYER.  427 
 
 "  Playing  with  her  flowing  tresses, 
 
 Pillowed  on  her  heaving  breast, 
 Comes  the  spirit-child,  to  linger, 
 
 By  its  mother's  lips  caressed. 
 
 "  And  the  ghostly  husband  beckons 
 
 To  his  mourning,  faithful  wife  ; 
 In  your  lunar  dwelling  bids  her 
 
 Join  with  him  in  spirit-life." 
 
 Never  can  the  tie  be  severed 
 
 'Twixt  die  hearts  that  truly  love  ; 
 And  for  every  friend  departed, 
 
 One  ye  gain  in  heaven  above. 
 
 RELIANCE    ON    GOD. 
 
 Not  before  published. 
 
 "A/TY  God,  my  Father,  and  my  Friend  ! 
 **"  Let  every  heart  rejoice 
 
 That  we  are  here  to  utter  praise, 
 With  glad  and  tuneful  voice. 
 
 All  silently  "  Hosannas  "  bend 
 
 Toward  thy  spirit-throne, 
 From  depths  where  never  prophet  dwelt, 
 
 Nor  Scripture-text  is  known. 
 
 Unbounded  is  thy  wondrous  love, 
 
 That  tends  the  raven's  call  ; 
 Unfailing  is  thy  watchful  care, 
 
 That  marks  the  sparrow's  fall. 
 
 By  thy  command  we  live  —  to  die  ; 
 
 Thou  lendest  what  we  give  ; 
 And  he  that  suffers  oft  is  blest, 
 
 And,  dying,  learns  to  live. 
 
" 
 
 428  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 SAMUEL   LONGFELLOW. 
 (1819.) 
 
 Rev.  '  Samuel  Longfellow,  brother  of  the  poet  Henry  W.  Long- 
 fellow, was  born  in  Portland,  Me.,  June  18,  1819.  Having  there  pursued 
 his  preparatory  studies,  he  entered  Harvard  College,  and  graduated  in 
 1839.  For  about  three  years  he  was  subsequently  employed  as  a  private 
 teacher.  He  afterward  entered  the  Divinity  School  at  Cambridge,  and 
 graduated  from  that  institution  in  1846,  in  the  same  class  with  O.  B. 
 Frothingham  and  Samuel  Johnson.  He  was  first  settled  over  the  Uni- 
 tarian Church  in  Fall  River,  in  1848.  His  next  pastorate  was  that  of  the 
 Second  Unitarian  Church  in  Brooklyn,  N.  Y.,  his  installation  taking  place 
 June  13,  1853.  He  resigned  this  charge  in  the  spring  of  i860  for  the  pur- 
 pose of  seeking  rest  and  opportunity  for  study  abroad.  He  has  not  since 
 had  the  regular  care  of  any  parish,  but  has  preached  in  different  pulpits 
 for  a  more  or  less  limited  time,  as  health  and  circumstances  have  per- 
 mitted ;  and  has  also  continued  to  engage  in  a  variety  of  literary  labor. 
 While  in  Brooklyn,  he  was  for  two  years  a  regular  contributor  to  the 
 "Christian  Inquirer,"  now  the  "Liberal  Christian."  Some  of  his  more 
 important  papers  were  given  to  the  pages  of  "  The  Radical,"  published 
 in  Boston.  Four  of  his  sermons  have  appeared  in  pamphlet  form.  Mr. 
 Longfellow  has  made  several  visits  to  Europe,  and  now  resides  at  Cam- 
 bridge. 
 
 While  his  distinguished  brother  has  written  but  few  hymns  adapted 
 in  form  to  general  use  in  our  churches,  he  himself  has  employed  his  rare 
 gift  of  song  in  this  particular  service  quite  exclusively,  so  far  as  we  may 
 judge  from  the  poetical  productions  which  he  has  allowed  to  be  printed. 
 In  this  and  in  other  ways  he  has  done  much  to  make  richer  and  more 
 attractive  the  musical  and,  devotional  element  in  our  social  or  public 
 worship.  In  1846  he  and  Rev.  Samuel  Johnson  published  "A  Book  of 
 Hymns,"  which  passed  through  many  editions,  and  which  included  a 
 large  number  of  new  and  beautiful  songs  of  praise  and  trust  that  have 
 since  been  admitted  into  other  Collections.  We  have  had  frequent  occa- 
 sion to  refer  to  this  book  in  other  parts  of  this  volume.  In  1859  he  com- 
 piled a  book  of  "Hymns  and  Tunes."  "primarily  for  use  in  Sunday 
 Schools  and  the  Home  Circle,"  and  also  a  small  book  of  Vespers,  both 
 of  which  were  specially  prepared  for  his  own  society  in  Brooklyn.  The 
 Vesper  Service,  which  he  was  the  first  to  introduce  in  the  Unitarian 
 denomination,  came  in  the  course  of  years  to  be  adopted,  in  a  more  or 
 less  extended  or  varied  form,  by  many  other  churches.  Still  later,  he 
 was  again  associated  with  Mr.  Johnson  in  compiling  the  "  Hymns  of  the 
 Spirit,"  to  which  also  we  have  often  previously  referred,  and  which  was 
 first  published  in  1864.     In  this  Collection  many  hymns  appear  in  an 
 
SAMUEL   LONGFELLOW.  429 
 
 altered  form,  and  numerous  other  changes  arc  made  from  the  book  which 
 had  been  issued  in  [846,  witnessing  to  the  growing  theistic  views  and 
 sympathies  which  both  of  these  friends  had  c^>me  to  entertain.  Each 
 of  these  eminent  men  now  holds  to  a  pure  Theism,  and  has  always 
 declined  to  take  any  sectarian  or  denominational   name. 
 
 A  few  of    Mr.  Longfellow's  hymns    are  in  the  earlier  compilations 
 which  we  have  mentioned,  the   "Hook  of   Hymns,"  the  book  of  "  Ves-     > 
 
 &C  .  but  a  larger  number  are  to  be  found  in  the  "Hymns  of  the 
 Spirit."  In  this  Collection  there  are,  besides  those  which  in  their  author- 
 ized form  we  give  below,  others,  that  begin :  "  God  of  ages  and  of 
 nations  ;  "  "  In  the  beginning  was  the  Word  ;  "  "  O  God,  in  whom  we 
 live  and  move;"  "O  God,  thou  Giver  of  all  good ; "  "O  Thou  whose 
 liberal  sun  and  rain  ;  "  "Out  of  the  dark  the  circling  sphere,"  founded 
 on  a  passage  in  one  of  Mr.  Martineau's  sermons  ;  "The  loving  Friend  to 
 all  who  bowed  ;"  "He  who  himself  and  God  would  know."  All  these 
 hymns  breathe  a  pure  and  reverent  spirit,  and  are  clothed  with  grace 
 and  loveliness. 
 
 JOHN    AND    JESUS. 
 
 A    VOICE  by  Jordan's  shore  ! 
 
 A  summons  stern  and  clear:  — 
 Reform  !  be  just !  and  sin  no  more  ! 
 God's  judgment  draweth  near  ! 
 
 A  voice  by  Galilee, 
 
 A  holier  voice  I  hear :  — 
 Love  God  !  thy  neighbor  love  !  for  see, 
 
 God's  mercy  draweth  near ! 
 
 O  voice  of  Duty  !  still 
 
 Speak  forth  ;  I  hear  with  awe  : 
 In  thee  I  own  the  sovereign  will, 
 
 Obey  the  sovereign  law. 
 
 Thou  higher  voice  of  Love, 
 Yet  speak  thy  word  in  me  ; 
 
 Through  duty,  let  me  upward  move 
 To  thy  pure  liberty  ! 
 
430  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 A    NEW    COMMANDMENT 
 
 ■r 
 
 "DENEATH  the  shadow  of  the  cross, 
 
 As  earthly  hopes  remove, 
 His  new  commandment  Jesus  gives, 
 His  blessed  word  of  love. 
 
 O  bond  of  union,  strong  and  deep  ! 
 
 O  bond  of  perfect  peace  ! 
 Not  even  the  lifted  cross  can  harm, 
 
 If  we  but  hold  to  this. 
 
 Then,  Jesus,  be  thy  spirit  ours  ! 
 
 And  swift  our  feet  shall  move 
 To  deeds  of  pure  self-sacrifice, 
 
 "  And  the  sweet  tasks  of  love." 
 
 G 
 
 LIFE'S    MISSION. 
 
 O  forth  to  life,  O  child  of  earth  ! 
 Still  mindful  of  thy  heavenly  birth 
 Thou  art  not  here  for  ease,  or  sin, 
 But  manhood's  noble  crown  to  win. 
 
 Though  passion's  fires  are  in  thy  soul, 
 Thy  spirit  -can  their  flames  control  ; 
 Though  tempters  strong  beset  thy  way, 
 Thy  spirit  is  more  strong  than  they. 
 
 Go  on  from  innocence  of  youth 
 To  manly  pureness,  manly  truth  ; 
 God's  angels  still  are  near  to  save, 
 And  God  himself  doth  help  the  brave. 
 
 Then  forth  to  life,  O  child  of  earth  ! 
 Be  worthy  of  thy  heavenly  birth  ! 
 For  noble  service  thou  art  here  ; 
 Thy  brothers  help,  thy  God  revere  ! 
 
 I 
 
SAM  TEL  LONGFELLOW.  43 1 
 
 THEY   LOOKED    UNTO   HIM,  AND   WERE 
 LIGHTENED. 
 
 Knowing  that  all  things  are  in  God's  hand,  and  that  God's  hand  is  in  all  things.' 
 
 I"   LOOK  to  thee  in  every  need, 
 
 And  never  look  in  vain  ; 
 I  feel  thy  strong  and  tender  love, 
 
 And  all  is  well  again  ; 
 The  thought  of  thee  is  mightier  far 
 Than  sin  and  pain  and  sorrow  are. 
 
 Discouraged  in  the  work  of  life, 
 
 Disheartened  by  its  load, 
 Shamed  by  its  failures  or  its  fears, 
 
 I  sink  beside  the  road  ; 
 But  let  me  only  think  of  thee, 
 And  then  new  heart  springs  up  in  me. 
 
 Thy  calmness  bends  serene  above, 
 
 My  restlessness  to  still ; 
 Around  me  flows  thy  quickening  life, 
 
 To  nerve  my  faltering  will  j 
 Thy  presence  fills  my  solitude, 
 Thy  providence  turns  all  to  good. 
 
 Embosomed  deep  in  thy  dear  love, 
 
 Held  in  thy  law,  I  stand  ; 
 Thy  hand  in  all  things  I  behold, 
 
 And  all  things  in  thy  hand  ; 
 Thou  leadest  me  by  unsought  ways, 
 And  turn'st  my  mourning  into  praise. 
 
 ORDINATION    HYMN. 
 
 Written  for  the  ordination  of  Mr.  Edward  E.  Hale,  at  Worcester,  Mass. 
 
 f~\  GOD,  thy  children,  gathered  here, 
 
 Thy  blessing  now  we  wait  ; 
 Thy  servant,  girded  for  his  work, 
 Stands  at  the  temple's  gate. 
 
 L 
 
432     SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 A  holy  purpose  in  his  heart 
 Has  deepened  calm  and  still ; 
 
 Now  from  his  childhood's  Nazareth 
 He  comes,  to  do  thy  will. 
 
 O  Father  !  keep  his  soul  alive 
 
 To  every  hope  of  good ; 
 And  may  his  life  of  love  proclaim 
 
 Man's  truest  brotherhood  ! 
 
 O  Father !  keep  his  spirit  quick 
 To  every  form  of  wrong  ; 
 
 And  in  the  ear  of  sin  and  self 
 May  his  rebuke  be  strong  ! 
 
 O,  give  him,  in  thy  holy  work, 
 Patience  to  wait  thy  time, 
 
 And,  toiling  still  with  man,  to  breathe 
 The  soul's  serener  clime  ! 
 
 And  grant  him  many  hearts  to  lead 
 
 Into  thy  perfect  rest ; 
 Bless  thou  him,  Father,  and  his  work,  — 
 
 Bless,  and  they  shall  be  blest ! 
 
 PRAYER   FOR    INSPIRATION. 
 
 TTOLY  SPIRIT,  Truth  divine  ! 
 
 Dawn  upon  this  soul  of  mine  ; 
 Word  of  God,  and  Inward  Light ! 
 Wake  my  spirit,  clear  my  sight. 
 
 Holy  Spirit,  Love  divine  ! 
 Glow  within  this  heart  of  mine ; 
 Kindle  every  high  desire  ; 
 Perish  self  in  thy  pure  fire ! 
 
 Holy  Spirit,  Power  divine  ! 
 Fill  and  nerve  this  will  of  mine ; 
 By  thee  may  I  strongly  live, 
 Bravely  bear,  and  nobly  strive. 
 
SAMUEL  LONGFELLOW.  433 
 
 Holy  Spirit,  Right  divine  ! 
 King  within  nay  conscience  reign  ; 
 Be  my  Law,  and  I  shall  be 
 Firmly  bound,  for  ever  free. 
 
 Holy  Spirit,  Peace  divine  ! 
 Still  this  restless  heart  of  mine  ; 
 Speak  to  calm  this  tossing  sea, 
 Stayed  in  thy  tranquillity. 
 
 Holy  Spirit,  Joy  divine  ! 
 Gladden  thou  this  heart  of  mine  ; 
 In  the  desert  ways  I  sing, 
 "  Spring,  O  Well !  for  ever  spring !  " 
 
 "FATHER,  I    HAVE    SIXXED. 
 
 T    OVE  for  all !   and  can  it  be  ? 
 
 Can  I  hope  it  is  for  me  ? 
 I  who  strayed  so  long  ago,  — 
 Strayed  so  far,  and  fell  so  low  ? 
 
 I,  the  disobedient  child, 
 Wayward,  passionate,  and  wild  ; 
 I,  who  left  my  Father's  home, 
 In  forbidden  ways  to  roam ! 
 
 I,  who  spurned  his  loving  hold, 
 I,  who  would  not  be  controlled  ; 
 I,  who  would  not  hear  his  call, 
 I,  the  wilful  prodigal  ! 
 
 To  my  Father  can  I  go  ? 
 At  his  feet  myself  I'll  throw  ; 
 In  his  house  there  yet  may  be 
 Place,  a  servant's  place,  for  me. 
 
 See,  my  Father  waiting  stands  ! 
 See,  he  reaches  out  his  hands ! 
 God  is  love  I   I  know,  I  see, 
 There  is  love  for  me  —  even  me ! 
 
 28 
 
434  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 THE   CHURCH   UNIVERSAL. 
 
 /^\NE  holy  Church  of  God  appears 
 ^^^     Through  every  age  and  race, 
 Unwasted  by  the  lapse  of  years, 
 Unchanged  by  changing  place. 
 
 From  oldest  time,  on  farthest  shores, 
 
 Beneath  the  pine  or  palm, 
 One  Unseen  Presence  she  adores, 
 
 With  silence  or  with  psalm. 
 
 Her  priests  are  all  God's  faithful  sons, 
 To  serve  the  world  raised  up  ; 
 
 The  pure  in  heart,  her  baptized  ones  ; 
 Love,  her  communion-cup. 
 
 The  truth  is  her  prophetic  gift, 
 
 The  soul  her  sacred  page  ; 
 And  feet  on  mercy's  errands  swift 
 
 Do  make  her  pilgrimage. 
 
 O  Living  Church  !  thine  errand  speed  ; 
 
 Fulfil  thy  task  sublime  ; 
 With  bread  of  life  earth's  hunger  feed  ; 
 
 Redeem  the  evil  time. 
 
 PEACE    ON    EARTH. 
 
 TDEACE,  peace  on  earth  !  the  heart  of  man  for  ever 
 
 Through  all  these  weary  strifes  foretells  the  day ; 
 Blessed  be  God,  the  hope  forsakes  him  never, 
 
 That  war  shall  end  and  swords  be  sheathed  for  aye. 
 
 Peace,  peace  on  earth  !  for  men  shall  love  each  other, 
 Hosts  shall  go  forth  to  bless  and  not  destroy ; 
 
 For  man  shall  see  in  every  man  a  brother, 
 And  peace  on  earth  fulfil  the  angels'  joy. 
 
SAMUEL   LOXGFELLOW.  435 
 
 BEHOLD,    THE    FIELDS    ARE   WHITE." 
 
 r~\  STILL  in  accents  sweet  and  strong  » 
 ^^^     Sounds  forth  the  ancient  word, — 
 "  More  reapers  for  white  harvest  fields, 
 More  laborers  for  the  Lord  ! '" 
 
 We  hear  the  call  ;  in  dreams  no  more 
 
 In  selfish  ease  we  lie, 
 But,  girded  for  our  Father's  work, 
 
 Go  forth  beneath  his  sky. 
 
 Where  prophets'  word,  and  martyrs'  blood, 
 And  prayers  of  saints  were  sown, 
 
 We,  to  their  labors  entering  in, 
 
 Would  reap  where  they  have  strown. 
 
 O  Thou  whose  call  our  hearts  has  stirred  ! 
 
 To  do  thy  will  we  come  ; 
 Thrust  in  our  sickles  at  thy  word, 
 
 And  bear  our  harvest  home. 
 
 HYMN    OF   WINTER. 
 
 "THIS  winter  now ;  the  fallen  snow 
 
 Has  left  the  heavens  all  coldly  clear  ; 
 Through  leafless  boughs  the  sharp  winds  blow, 
 And  all  the  earth  lies  dead  and  drear. 
 
 And  yet  God's  love  is  not  withdrawn  ; 
 
 His  life  within  the  keen  air  breathes, 
 His  beauty  paints  the  crimson  dawn, 
 
 And  clothes  the  boughs  with  glittering  wreaths. 
 
 And  though  abroad  the  sharp  winds  blow, 
 And  skies  are  chill,  and  frosts  are  keen, 
 
 Home  closer  draws  her  circle  n 
 
 And  warmer  glows  her  light  within. 
 
436  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 O  God,  who  giv'st  the  winters  cold, 
 
 As  well  as  sunbeams'  joyous  rays  ! 
 Us  warmly  in  thy  love  enfold, 
 *  And  keep  us  through  life's  wintry  days. 
 
 The  two  following  hymns,  with  two  others,  were  written  for  the  little 
 book  of  Vespers  which  Mr.  Longfellow  prepared  in  1859 :  — 
 
 VESPER   HYMNS. 
 
 "TVTOW  on  land  and  sea  descending, 
 
 Brings  the  night  its  peace  profound  ; 
 Let  our  vesper-hymn  be  blending 
 
 With  the  holy  calm  around. 
 Soon  as  dies  the  sunset  glory, 
 
 Stars  of  heaven  shine  out  above, 
 Telling  still  the  ancient  story,  — 
 
 Their  Creator's  changeless  love. 
 
 Now  our  wants  and  burdens  leaving 
 
 To  His  care,  who  cares  for  all, 
 Cease  we  fearing,  cease  we  grieving  ; 
 
 At  his  touch  our  burdens  fall. 
 As  the  darkness  deepens  o'er  us, 
 
 Lo  !  eternal  stars  arise  ; 
 Hope  and  Faith  and  Love  rise  glorious, 
 
 Shining  in  the  spirit's  skies. 
 
 A  GAIN,  as  evening's  shadow  falls, 
 
 We  gather  in  these  hallowed  walls  ; 
 And  vesper-hymn  and  vesper-prayer 
 Rise  mingling  on  the  holy  air. 
 
 May  struggling  hearts  that  seek  release 
 Here  find  the  rest  of  God's  own  peace  ; 
 And,  strengthened  here  by  hymn  and  prayer, 
 Lay  down  the  burdens  and  the  care. 
 
JAMES   T,   FIELDS.  437 
 
 O  God,  our  light !  to  thee  we  bow  j 
 Within  all  shadows  standest  thou: 
 Give  deeper  calm  than  night  can  bring; 
 Give  sweeter  songs  than  lips  can  sing. 
 
 Life's  tumult  we  must  meet  again, — 
 We  cannot  at  the  shrine  remain  ; 
 But  in  the  spirit's  secret  cell 
 May  hymn  and  prayer  for  ever  dwell. 
 
 <xv**:oo 
 
 JAMES   T.    FIELDS. 
 (1820.) 
 
 James  Thomas  Fields  was  born  in  Portsmouth,  N.H.,  Dec.  31,  1820. 
 He  has  long  been  a  resident  of  Boston,  and  was  for  many  years  the 
 partner  of  the  well-known  and  eminent  publishing  firm  of  "  Ticknor  & 
 Fields."  He  has  well  been  called  the  "Poet's  Publisher  of  America." 
 Two  of  his  own  principal  poems  were  given  before  the  Mercantile 
 Library  Association  of  Boston,  —  one  on  "Commerce,"  when  Edward 
 Everett  was  the  orator  of  the  occasion,  in  1S3S  ;  and  another,  "  The 
 Post  of  Honor,"  in  1S45,  when  Daniel  Webster  delivered  the  oration. 
 In  1S47  he  visited  Europe,  and  after  his  return  published  a  volume  of 
 his  verses  in  1849.  A  small  edition  of  his  briefer  poems  from  this 
 volume,  with  additional  pieces,  appeared  from  the  press  of  Metcalf  & 
 Co.,  Cambridge,  in  1854,  for  more  private  distribution.  A  similar 
 volume  embracing  pieces  from  the  editions  already  mentioned,  and  in- 
 cluding some  fresh  offerings,  was  issued  in  1S58,  under  the  title  of  "  A 
 Few  Verses  for  a  Few  Friends."  Many  of  his  productions  have  from 
 time  to  time  been  given  to  the  magazines,  and  especially  to  the  "Atlantic 
 Monthly."  of  which  he  was  editor  from  1S62  to  1S70.  During  his  con- 
 nection with  the  house  of  Ticknor  &  Fields,  one  of  his  chief  literary 
 labors  was  the  supervision  of  twenty-one  volumes  of  De  Quincey's 
 writings,  published  by  that  firm.  His  long  and  intimate  acquaintance 
 with  the  leading  English  as  well  as  American  authors  in  our  day  is 
 familiarly  known  to  the  public.  Out  of  these  personal  relations  and 
 friendships  he  wrote  for  the  "Atlantic"  a  series  of  charming  papers, 
 called  "Our  Whispering  Gallery,"  which  have  since  appeared  in  a  hand- 
 some volume,  under  the  title  of  "Yesterdays  with  Authors."  Of  a 
 kindred  nature  are  some  of  the  very  interesting  popular  lectures  with 
 which  he  has  delighted  numerous  audiences  during  the  last  few  vears. 
 
 From  the  small  edition  of  his  poems,  published  by  Metcalf  &  Co.,  we 
 make  a  few  selections  specially  adapted  to  the  present  volume,  and  char- 
 acterized by  all  this  author's  purity  of  thought,  refinement  of  sentiment, 
 and  delicacy  of  taste. 
 
43§  SOA'GS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 OUR   FIRESIDE   EVENING   HYMN. 
 
 TTITHER,  bright  angels,  wing  your  flight, 
 And  stay  your  gentle  presence  here  ; 
 Watch  round,  and  shield  us  through  the  night, 
 That  every  shade  may  disappear. 
 
 How  sweet  when  Nature  claims  repose, 
 And  darkness  floats  in  silence  nigh, 
 
 To  welcome  in,  at  daylight's  close, 
 
 Those  radiant  troops  that  gem  the  sky  ! 
 
 To  feel  that  unseen  hands  we  clasp, 
 
 While  feet  unheard  are  gathering  round, 
 
 To  know  that  we  in  faith  may  grasp 
 Celestial  guards  from  heavenly  ground  ! 
 
 O  ever  thus,  with  silent  prayer 
 
 For  those  we  love,  may  night  begin,  — 
 
 Reposing  safe,  released  from  care, 
 Till  morning  leads  the  sunlight  in. 
 
 A    POOR   MAN'S    EPITAPH. 
 
 T1TE  was  not  what  the  world  counts  rich, 
 
 Houses  and  lands  had  none  in  store  ; 
 But,  blessed  with  strength  for  honest  toil, 
 He  neither  asked  nor  cared  for  more. 
 
 His  neighbors  moved  in  higher  ranks, 
 And  far  above  him  all  could  shine  ; 
 
 He  lived  with  Health,  and  brave  Content, 
 And  water  drank  instead  of  wine. 
 
 "  Enough  for  me,"  he  said,  "  if  here 
 My  table's  spread  when  hunger  calls, 
 
 To  leave  me  something  for  a  friend 
 Whose  lot  than  mine  still  lower  falls. 
 
JAMES   T.   FIELDS.  439 
 
 "  And  if  the  rainy  days  should  come, 
 
 And  I've  no  silver  hoarded  by, 
 How  can  I  want,  if  Him  I  trust 
 
 Who  feeds  the  ravens  when  they  cry  ? 
 
 "  Around  my  board  a  place  I'll  keep 
 
 For  pallid  lips  that  pine  in  woe, 
 And  better  gifts  than  I  impart 
 
 Shall  unseen  angel-hands  bestow  !  " 
 
 See  where  he  sleeps  who  served  mankind, — 
 Who  wept  and  watched  with  weeping  eyes  ; 
 
 Walk  round  his  grave  with  reverent  step, 
 For  there  a  more  than  hero  lies. 
 
 THE    FLIGHT    OF    ANGELS. 
 
 HTWO  pilgrims  to  the  Holy  Land 
 
 Passed  through  our  open  door,  — 
 Two  sinless  angels,  hand  in  hand, 
 Have  reached  the  promised  shore. 
 
 We  saw  them  take  their  heavenward  flight 
 Through  floods  of  drowning  tears, 
 
 And  felt  in  woe's  bewildering  night 
 The  agony  of  years. 
 
 But  now  we  watch  the  golden  path 
 
 Their  blessed  feet  have  trod, 
 And  know  that  voice  was  not  in  wrath, 
 
 Which  called  them  both  to  God. 
 
 THE    DEAD. 
 
 "  Still  the  same,  no  charm  forgot,  — 
 Nothing  lost  that  Time  had  given." 
 
 Tj^ORGET  not  the  Dead,  who  have  loved,  who  have  left  us, 
 Who  bend  o'er  us  now,  from  their  bright  homes  above 
 But  believe  —  never  doubt  —  that  the  God  who  bereft  us 
 Permits  them  to  mingle  with  friends  they  still  love. 
 
440  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 Repeat  their  fond  words,  all  their  noble  deeds  cherish, 
 Speak  pleasantly  of  them  who  left  us  irr  tears  ;  — 
 
 Other  joys  may  be  lost,  but  their  names  should  not  perish, 
 While  time  bears  our  feet  through  the  Valley  of  Years. 
 
 Dear  friends  of  our  Youth  !  can  we  cease  to  remember 
 The  last  look  of  life,  and  the  low-whispered  prayer  ? 
 
 O  cold  be  our  hearts  as  the  ice  of  December, 
 
 When  Love's  tablets  record  no  remembrances  there. 
 
 Then  forget  not  the  Dead,  who  are  evermore  nigh  us, 
 Still  floating  sometimes  to  our  dream-haunted  bed  ! 
 
 In  the  loneliest  hour,  in  the  crowd,  they  are  by  us ; 
 Forget  not  the  Dead !  O,  forget  not  the  Dead ! 
 
 SUMMER-EVENING    MELODY. 
 
 r^  O  forth  !  the  sky  is  blue  above, 
 
 And  cool  the  green  sod  lies  below ; 
 It  is  the  hour  that  claims  for  love 
 The  halcyon  moments  as  they  flow. 
 
 The  glow-worm  lends  her  twinkling  lamp, 
 The  cricket  sings  his  soothing  strain, 
 
 And  fainter  sounds  the  weary  tramp 
 Of  footsteps  in  the  grassy  lane. 
 
 Go  forth,  ye  pallid  sons  of  care  ! 
 
 Too  long  your  thoughts  to  earth  are  given  ; 
 To-night  sweet  music  haunts  the  air, 
 
 And  fragrant  odors  breathe  of  heaven. 
 
 TO   THOMAS    STARR    KING. 
 
 Addressed  to  Rev.  Thomas  Starr  King,  when  he  was  first  ordained  as  a  minister.    The 
 preacher  and  the  poet  were  schoolmates  in  earlier  years. 
 
 f~^  O,  with  a  manly  heart, 
 
 Where  courage  leads  the  brave 
 High  thoughts,  not  years,  have  stamped  their  part, 
 Who  shunned  the  coward's  grave. 
 
JAMES   T.   FIELDS.  44* 
 
 Clear,  to  the  eye  of  Youth, 
 
 Their  record  stands  enrolled, 
 Who  held  aloft  the  flag  of  Truth, 
 
 Nor  slept  beneath  its  fold. 
 
 They  heard  the  trumpets  sound 
 
 Where  hosts  to  battle  trod, 
 And  marched  along  that  burning  ground  : 
 
 Fear  not !  they  rest  with  God. 
 
 Like  them,  advance  in  love, 
 
 And  upward  bend  thy  sight  j 
 Win  Faith  through  Prayer  ;  He  rules  above 
 
 Who  still  protects  the  right. 
 
 DIRGE    FOR  A   YOUNG   GIRL. 
 
 T  TNDERNEATH  the  sod,  low  lying, 
 
 Dark  and  drear, 
 Sleepeth  one  who  left,  in  dying, 
 
 Sorrow  here. 
 
 Yes,  they're  ever  bending  o'er  her, 
 
 Eyes  that  weep  ; 
 Forms,  that  to  the  cold  grave  bore  her, 
 
 Vigils  keep. 
 
 When  the  summer  moon  is  shining 
 
 Soft  and  fair, 
 Friends  she  loved  in  tears  are  twining 
 
 Chaplets  there. 
 
 Rest  in  peace,  thou  gentle  spirit, 
 
 Throned  above  ! 
 Souls  like  thine  with  God  inherit 
 
 Life  and  love. 
 
442  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 EVENTIDE    IN   THE   COUNTRY. 
 
 /T"*HIS  cottage-door,  this  gentle  gale, 
 
 Hay-scented,  whispering  round, 
 Yon  path-side  rose,  that  down  the  vale 
 Breathes  incense  from  the  ground, 
 
 Methinks  should  from  the  dullest  clod 
 Invite  a  thankful  heart  to  God. 
 
 But,  Lord,  the  violet  bending  low, 
 Seems  better  moved  to  praise  : 
 From  us  what  scanty  blessings  flow, 
 How  voiceless  close  our  days  ! 
 Father,  forgive  us,  and  the  flowers 
 Shall  lead  in  prayer  the  vesper-hours. 
 
 A  CHARACTER. 
 
 f~\    HAPPIEST  he,  whose  riper  years  retain 
 
 '     The  hopes  of  youth,  unsullied  by  a  stain  ! 
 His  eve  of  life  in  calm  content  shall  glide, 
 Like  the  still  streamlet  to  the  ocean-tide  ; 
 No  gloomy  cloud  hangs  o'er  his  tranquil  day, 
 No  meteor  lures  him  from  his  home  astray : 
 For  him  there  glows  with  glittering  beam  on  high 
 Love's  changeless  star  that  leads  him  to  the  sky  ; 
 Still  to  the  past  he  sometimes  turns  to  trace 
 The  mild  expression  of  a  mother's  face  ; 
 And  dreams,  perchance,  as  oft  in  earlier  years, 
 The  low  sweet  music  of  her  voice  he  hears. 
 
 MOON-RISE   AT   SEA. 
 
 A    Child  speaks. 
 
 {"^OME  up  !  the  moon  is  rising  fast, 
 The  sea  is  calm,  the  deck  is  clear  ; 
 Come,  mother,  stay  no  longer  here,  — 
 The  moonlight  will  not  always  last. 
 
 i 
 
JAMES   T.   FIELDS.  443 
 
 Do  you  remember  once  you  talked 
 
 With  me  of  Christ  upon  the  sea  ? 
 
 Now  hearken,  for  this  seems  to  me 
 The  shining  path  where  Jesus  walked  ! 
 
 And  when  the  silvery  brightness  came 
 Along  the  sparkling  waves  to-night, 
 
 My  heart  leaped  trembling  at  the  sight, 
 And  then  I  spoke  our  Saviour's  name. 
 
 I  should  not  fear  his  holy  will, 
 
 If  now  he  stood  on  yon  bright  place, 
 And  I  could  see  his  blessed  face, 
 
 And  hear  his  whisper,  "Peace !  be  still !  " 
 
 HOME. 
 
 'T^HERE  are,  thank  Heaven,  beneath  this  fitful  dome, 
 
 Some  leaflets  floating  near  affection's  home  ; 
 Some  cloudless  skies  that  smile  on  scenes  below, 
 Some  changeless  hues  in  life's  wide-spanning  bow. 
 
 So  let  us  live,  that,  if  misfortune's  blast 
 Come  like  a  whirlwind  to  our  hearths  at  last, 
 Sunbeams  may  break  from  one  small  spot  of  blue, 
 To  guide  us  safe  life's  dreary  desert  through. 
 
 HYMN.* 
 
 It  is  good  that  a  man  should  both  hope  and  quietly  wait  for  the  salvation  of  the  Lord. 
 
 nPHOU  who  hast  called  our  being  here, 
 
 And  given  us  souls  to  save, 
 Who  taught  us  more  of  love  than  fear, 
 Of  heaven  than  of  the  grave,  — 
 
 *  From  a  Sunday-school  hymn-book,  entitled  "Children's  Praise." 
 
444  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 To  thee  in  every  mortal  hour 
 With  confidence  we  turn, 
 
 And,  feeling  thine  abiding  power, 
 Our  hearts  with  rapture  burn. 
 
 "  Thy  kingdom  come,  thy  will  be  done,' 
 May  all  thy  children  say, 
 
 And  thank  thee,  Father,  for  thy  Son, 
 Who  taught  us  how  to  pray. 
 
 HYMN.* 
 
 For  the  Unitarian  Festival,  at  Faneuil  Hall,  May  24,  1853. 
 
 "Y/'E  sacred  walls, —  blest  Freedom's  shrine, 
 
 Undying  years  of  Fame  are  thine  ! 
 Let  holy  Truth  and  Justice  claim 
 The  honors  still  that  gild  thy  name. 
 
 Ye  silent  spirits,  waiting  round 
 To  guard  this  consecrated  ground, 
 Inspire  our  breasts  with  hallowed  zeal 
 That  patriots  own,  and  Christians  feel. 
 
 How  clear  the  voice  of  Duty  calls 
 Along  these  time-enchanted  walls  ! 
 How  gleams  the  charge  in  words  of  light, 
 To  plant,  and  watch  and  shield  the  Right  ! 
 
 Our  fathers'  God,  our  Guide,  our  Trust ! 
 Bend  low  thine  ear  to  lips  of  dust  ; 
 This  be  our  prayer,  —  let  Love  increase, 
 Till  heaven's  wide  dome  orbs  endless  peace. 
 
 *  From  a  printed  Order  of  Service. 
 
SAMUEL   JOHNSON.  445 
 
 SAMUEL    JOHNSON. 
 
 Rev.  SAMUEL  JOHNSON,  son  of  Dr.  Samuel  and  Anna  D.  Johnson, 
 was  born  at  Salem,  Mass.,  Oct.  10,  1S22  ;  received  his  early  education  in 
 prival  in  that  city,  and  graduated  at  Harvard  College  in  1842, 
 
 and  at  the  Cambridge  Divinity  School  in  1S46.  He  established,  in  1853, 
 at  Lynn,  Mass.,  an  Independent  Religious  Society  on  a  Free  Church 
 .  and  continued  as  its  minister  until  1S70.  He  has  since  preached 
 or  lectured  occasionally  before  congregations  or  audiences  of  radical 
 views  and  sympathies,  but  has  been  mainly  occupied  in  writing  on  relig- 
 ious and  literary  topics.     He  now  resides  at  Salem. 
 
 He  has  published,  from  time  to  time,  since  1847,  sermons  on  various 
 aspects  of  the  great  struggle  for  Emancipation,  in  the  "  Liberator,"  the 
 "Anti-slavery  Standard,"  the  " Commonwealth,"  and  other  journals; 
 pamphlet  discourses  on  "  The  Rendition  of  Anthony  Burns,"  1854  ;  "The 
 Death  of  President  Lincoln,"  1865  ;  "  The  Religion  df  a  Free  Church," 
 1S66  ;  "  A  Ministry  in  Free  Religion,"  1870  ;  "  A  Memorial  of  Charles 
 Sumner,"  1S74 ;  many  contributions  to  "The  Radical"  on  religious, 
 moral,  political,  and  aesthetic  subjects,  especially  six  discourses  on  the 
 Foundations  of  Religious  Belief  for  the  earliest  numbers  of  that  magazine, 
 1S65-1S66;  and  essays  on  "Jefferson's  Rip  Van  Winkle,"  August,  1869; 
 on  "Free  Religion  and  the  Free  States,"  October,  1869  ;  on  the  "Fore- 
 closure of  Spiritual  Unity,"  January,  1S69;  and  on  "Labor  Parties  and 
 Labor  Reform,"  November,  187 1,  afterward  printed  as  a  pamphlet ;  also, 
 essavs,  before  meetings  of  the  Free  Religious  Association,  on  the  "  Nat- 
 ural Sympathy  of  Religions,"  and  on  "  Freedom  in  Religion,"  printed  in 
 the  Reports  of  1870  and  1S73  \  ancl  a  lecture  on  the  "  Interpretation  of 
 Nature,"  delivered  at  Horticultural  Hall,  Boston,  published  in  the 
 "Index,"  March  9,  1S72.  Mr.  Johnson  has  also  written  a  treatise  on  the 
 "  Worship  of  Jesus,  in  its  Past  and  Present  Aspects,"  1868,  and  is  now 
 engaged  in  preparing  an  extended  work  on  "  Oriental  Religions,  and  their 
 Relation  to  Universal  Religion,"  one  volume  of  which,  on  India,  has 
 already  appeared  (J.  R.  Osgood  &  Co.),  1872.  Mr.  Johnson's  attitude 
 has  been  quite  independent  of  all  sectarian  or  denominational  associa- 
 tions. Among  those  who  are  commonly  known  as  Theists,  perhaps  no 
 preacher  or  author  in  America  has  displayed  more  intellectual  power 
 than  he. 
 
 As  has  been  stated  on  a  previous  page,  he  assisted  Rev.  Samuel  Long- 
 fellow in  compiling  the  "  Book  of  Hymns,"  in  1846,  and  the  "  Hymns  of  1 
 the  Spirit,"  in  1S64.  In  these  Collections  are  some  inspiring  hymns  of 
 his  own.  "  Father,  in  thy  mysterious  presence  kneeling,"  has  com- 
 forted and  strengthened  many  a  sad  and  weary  heart ;  and  "  Life  of 
 ages,  richly  poured,"  quickens  the  blood  as  one  reads  it.  These  and 
 others  we  take  from  the  last-named  Compilation. 
 
446 
 
 SONGS  OF   THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 FOR    DIVINE    STRENGTH. 
 
 "pATHER,  in  thy  mysterious  presence  kneeling, 
 
 Fain  would  our  souls  feel  all  thy  kindling  love ; 
 For  we  are  weak,  and  need  some  deep  revealing 
 Of  trust,  and  strength,  and  calmness  from  above. 
 
 Lord,  we  have  wandered  forth  through  doubt  and  sorrow, 
 And  thou  hast  made  each  step  an  onward  one ; 
 
 And  we  will  ever  trust  each  unknown  morrow,  — 
 Thou  wilt  sustain  us  till  its  work  is  done. 
 
 In  the  heart's  depths  a  peace  serene  and  holy 
 Abides ;  and  when  pain  seems  to  have  its  will, 
 
 Or  we  despair,  O,  may  that  peace  rise  slowly, 
 Stronger  than  agony,  and  we  be  still ! 
 
 Now,  Father,  now,  in  thy  dear  presence  kneeling, 
 Our  spirits  yearn  to  feel  thy  kindling  love ; 
 
 Now  make  us  strong,  we  need  thy  deep  revealing 
 Of  trust,  and  strength,  and  calmness  from  above. 
 
 THE    REFORMER'S  VOW. 
 
 For  the  Graduating  Exercises  of  the  Class  of  1846  in  the  Cambridge  Divinity  School. 
 
 /^*OD  of  the  earnest  heart, 
 
 The  trust  assured  and  still, 
 Thou  who  our  strength  for  ever  art, 
 We  come  to  do  thy  will ! 
 
 Upon  that  painful  road 
 
 By  saints  serenely  trod, 
 Whereon  their  hallowing  influence  flowed, 
 
 Would  we  go  forth,  O  God  ! 
 
 'Gainst  doubt  and  shame  and  fear 
 
 In  human  hearts  to  strive, 
 That  all  may  learn  to  love  and  bear, 
 
 To  conquer  self,  and  live; 
 
SAMUEL  JOHNSON.  447 
 
 To  draw  thy  blessing  clown, 
 
 And  bring  the  wronged  redress, 
 And  give  this  glorious  world  its  crown, 
 
 The  spirit's  Godlikeness. 
 
 No  dreams  from  toil  to  charm, 
 
 No  trembling  on  the  tongue,  — 
 Lord,  in  thy  rest  may  we  be  calm, 
 
 Through  thy  completeness  strong ! 
 
 Thou  nearest  while  we  pray  ; 
 
 O,  deep  within  us  write, 
 With  kindling  power,  our  God,  to-day, 
 
 Thy  word  :  "  On  earth  be  light !  " 
 
 IN    TIME    OF   WAR. 
 
 ORD,  once  our  faith  in  man  no  fear  could  move  ; 
 Now  save  it  from  despair  ! 
 The  trial  comes  ;  strengthen  the  might  of  love  : 
 Father,  thou  hearest  prayer! 
 
 Thou  hearest  ;  and  we  hear,  above  this  din, 
 
 Thy  blessed  word  sound  clear  : 
 "I  purge  this  land  from  slavery  and  sin  ; 
 
 The  reign  of  heaven  draws  near." 
 
 O,  never  falter,  ye  who  strive  to  bring 
 
 In  men  the  heavenly  birth  ; 
 For  still  the  angel  hosts  unfaltering  sing, 
 
 ••  Peace  to  the  weary  earth  !  " 
 
 O,  never  falter  !  peace  must  come  by  pain  ; 
 
 Heaven  is  not  found,  but  won  ; 
 Hold  the  dark  angel  till  he  moulds  again 
 
 The  peace  he  hath  undone. 
 
44^  SONGS   OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 We  know  not,  Lord,  what  storms  and  trials  strong 
 Must  work  our  world's  new  birth  ; 
 
 But  we  will  toil,  with  this  for  working  song,  — 
 "  Peace  to  the  weary  earth  !  " 
 
 Peace  to  the  weary,  struggling,  sin-sick  earth  ! 
 
 Peace  to  the  heart  of  man  ! 
 Storm  shall  bring  calm  ;  that  high  reward  is  worth 
 
 All  we  must  bear,  or  can. 
 
 o 
 
 THE    CONFLICT   OF    LIFE. 
 
 NWARD,  onward,  though  the  region 
 Where  thou  art  be  drear  and  lone  ; 
 God  hath  set  a  guardian  legion 
 Very  near  thee,  —  press  thou  on  ! 
 
 Upward,  upward  !     Their  hosanna 
 Rolleth  o'er  thee,  "  God  is  Love  !  " 
 
 All  around  thy  red-cross  banner 
 Streams  the  radiance  from  above. 
 
 By  the  thorn-road,  and  none  other, 
 
 Is  the  mount  of  vision  won  ; 
 Tread  it  without  shrinking,  brother  ! 
 
 Jesus  trod  it,  —  press  thou  on  ! 
 
 By  thy  trustful,  calm  endeavor, 
 Guiding,  cheering,  like  the  sun, 
 
 Earth-bound  hearts  thou  shalt  deliver  ; 
 O,  for  their  sake,  press  thou  on  ! 
 
 Be  this  world  the  wiser,  stronger, 
 For  thy  life  of  pain  and  peace  ; 
 
 While  it  needs  thee,  O  no  longer 
 Pray  thou  for  thy  quick  release  ; 
 
 Pray  thou,  undisheartened,  rather, 
 
 That  thou  be  a  faithful  son  ; 
 By  the  prayer  of  Jesus,  —  "  Father, 
 
 Not  my  will,  but  thine,  be  done  !  " 
 
SAMUEL  JOHNSON.  449 
 
 THE   CHURCH'S   WORK. 
 
 '"PHOU,  whose  glad  summer  yields 
 
 Fit  increase  of  the  spring, 
 In  faith  we  sow  these  living  fields, 
 Bless  Thou  the  harvesting  ! 
 
 Thy  Church  must  lead  aright 
 
 Life's  work,  left  all  undone, 
 Till  founded  fast  in  love  and  light, 
 
 Earth  home  to  heaven  be  won. 
 
 Grant,  then,  thy  servants,  Lord, 
 Fresh  strength  from  hour  to  hour  ; 
 
 Through  speech  and  deed  the  living  word 
 Find  utterance  with  power, 
 
 To  keep  the  child's  faith  bright, 
 To  strengthen  manhood's  truth, 
 
 And  set  the  age-dimmed  eye  alight 
 With  heaven's  eternal  youth ! 
 
 That  in  the  time's  stern  strife, 
 
 With  saints  we  speed  reform, 
 Unresting  in  the  calm  of  life, 
 
 Unshrinking  in  its  storm. 
 
 DEDICATION   OF   A  CHAPEL. 
 
 Written  for  the  dedication  of  the  New  Chapel  built  for  Rev.  Samuel  Longfellow's 
 Society,  in  Brooklyn,  N.Y.,  March,  1858. 
 
 HPO  light,  that  shines  in  stars  and  souls  ; 
 
 To  law,  that  rounds  the  world  with  calm  ; 
 
 To  love,  whose  equal  triumph  rolls 
 
 Through  martyr's  prayer  and  angel's  psalm,  — 
 
 We  wed  these  walls  with  unseen  bands, 
 
 In  holier  shrines  not  built  with  hands. 
 29 
 
450  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 May  purer  sacrament  be  here 
 
 Than  ever  dwelt  in  rite  or  creed  ; 
 
 Hallowed  the  hour  with  vow  sincere 
 To  serve  the  time's  all-pressing  need, 
 
 And  rear,  its  heaving  seas  above, 
 
 Strongholds  of  Freedom,  folds  of  Love. 
 
 Here  be  the  wanderer  homeward  led  ; 
 
 Here  living  streams  in  fulness  flow  ; 
 And  every  hungering  soul  be  fed, 
 
 That  yearns  the  eternal  will  to  know  ; 
 Here  Conscience  hurl  her  stern  reply 
 To  Mammon's  lust  and  Slavery's  lie. 
 
 Speak,  Living  God,  thy  full  command, 
 
 Through  prayer  of  faith  and  word  of  power, 
 
 That  we  with  girded  loins  may  stand 
 To  do  thy  work  and  wait  thine  hour  ; 
 
 And  sow,  'mid  patient  toils  and  tears, 
 
 For  harvests  in  serener  years. 
 
 MADE    PERFECT   THROUGH    SUFFERING. 
 
 Written  at  the  request  of  Dorothea  L.  Dix,  for  a  Collection  made  by  her  for  the  use  of  an 
 
 Asylum. 
 
 T  BLESS  thee,  Lord,  for  sorrows  sent 
 
 To  break  my  dream  of  human  power  ; 
 For  now  my  shallow  cistern's  spent, 
 I  find  thy  founts,  and  thirst  no  more. 
 
 I  take  thy  hand,  and  fears  grow  still  ; 
 
 Behold  thy  face,  and  doubts  remove  ; 
 Who  would  not  yield  his  wavering  will 
 
 To  perfect  Truth  and  boundless  Love  ? 
 
 That  love  this  restless  soul  doth  teach 
 The  strength  of  thine  eternal  calm ; 
 
 And  tune  its  sad  and  broken  speech 
 To  join,  on  earth,  the  angels'  psalm. 
 
 I 
 
SAMUEL  JOHNSON.  45* 
 
 O  be  it  patient  in  thy  hands, 
 
 And  drawn,  through  each  mysterious  hour, 
 To  service  of  thy  pure  commands. 
 
 The  narrow  way  to  Love  and  Power ! 
 
 INSPIRATION. 
 
 IFE  of  Ages,  richly  poured, 
 Love  of  God,  unspent  and  free, 
 Flowing  in  the  prophet's  word 
 And  the  people's  liberty  ! 
 
 Never  was  to  chosen  race 
 
 That  unstinted  tide  confined  ; 
 
 Thine  is  every  time  and  place, 
 
 Fountain  sweet  of  heart  and  mind  ! 
 
 Secret  of  the  morning  stars, 
 
 Motion  of  the  oldest  hours, 
 Pledge  through  elemental  wars 
 
 Of  the  coming  spirit's  powers  ! 
 
 Rolling  planet,  flaming  sun, 
 Stand  in  nobler  man  complete  ; 
 
 Prescient  laws  thine  errands  run, 
 Frame  the  shrine  for  Godhead  meet. 
 
 Homeward  led,  the  wondering  eye 
 Upward  yearned  in  joy  or  awe, 
 
 Found  the  love  that  waited  nigh, 
 Guidance  of  thy  guardian  law. 
 
 In  the  touch  of  earth  it  thrilled  ; 
 
 Down  from  mystic  skies  it  burned  ; 
 Right  obeyed  and  passion  stilled 
 
 Its  eternal  gladness  earned. 
 
 Breathing  in  the  thinker's  creed, 
 Pulsing  in  the  hero's  blood, 
 
 Nerving  simplest  thought  and  deed, 
 Freshening  time  with  truth  and  good, 
 
452  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 Consecrating  art  and  song, 
 Holy  book  and  pilgrim  track, 
 
 Hurling  floods  of  tyrant  wrong 
 From  the  sacred  limits  back,  — 
 
 Life  of  Ages,  richly  poured, 
 
 Love  of  God,  unspent  and  free. 
 
 Flow  still  in  the  Prophet's  word 
 And  the  People's  liberty  ! 
 
 THE   CITY   OF   GOD. 
 
 (^ITY  of  God,  how  broad  and  far 
 Outspread  thy  walls  sublime  ! 
 The  true  thy  chartered  freemen  are, 
 Of  every  age  and  clime. 
 
 One  holy  Church,  one  army  strong, 
 
 One  steadfast  high  intent, 
 One  working  band,  one  harvest-song, 
 
 One  King  Omnipotent ! 
 
 How  purely  hath  thy  speech  come  down 
 
 From  man's  primeval  youth  ! 
 How  grandly  hath  thine  empire  grown 
 
 Of  Freedom,  Love,  and  Truth  ! 
 
 How  gleam  thy  watch-fires  through  the  night, 
 
 With  never-fainting  ray ! 
 How  rise  thy  towers,  serene  and  bright, 
 
 To  meet  the  dawning  day  ! 
 
 In  vain  the  surge's  angry  shock, 
 
 In  vain  the  drifting  sands  ; 
 Unharmed  upon  the  Eternal  Rock, 
 
 The  Eternal  City  stands. 
 
SAMUEL   JOHNSON.  453 
 
 THE   POWER   OF  JESUS. 
 
 CTROXG-SOULED  Reformer,  whose  far-seeing  faith, 
 
 Of  lifted  cry  and  tumult  had  no  need, — 
 Who  stay 'dst  the  lightnings  of  thy  holy  wrath 
 
 With  pitying  love,  to  spare  the  bruised  reed,  — 
 Thy  will  to  save,  thy  strength  to  conquer,  flowed 
 From  seas  of  tenderness  and  might  in  God. 
 
 Thy  living  word  sprang  from  the  heart  of  man, 
 
 Eternal  word  of  love  and  liberty  : 
 Fearless  thou  gav'st  it  to  the  winds  again  ; 
 
 'Twas  manhood's  native  tongue  and  could  not  die. 
 To  thy  dear  brotherhood  life's  pulses  leap  ; 
 And  wakening  ages  answer,  deep  to  deep. 
 
 PAUL. 
 
 HPHE  Will  Divine  that  woke  a  waiting  time, 
 
 With  desert  cry  and  Calvary's  cross  sublime, 
 Had  equal  need  on  thee  its  power  to  prove, 
 Thou  soul  of  passionate  zeal  and  tenderest  love  ! 
 
 O  slave  devout  of  burdening  Hebrew  School, 
 Proud  to  fulfil  each  time-exalted  rule, 
 How  broke  the  illusion  of  thy  swelling  wrath 
 On  that  meek  front  of  calm,  enduring  faith  ! 
 
 Then  flashed  it  on  thy  spirit  mightily 
 That  thou  had'st  spurned  a  love  that  died  for  thee  ! 
 And  all  the  pride  went  down  in  whelming  flood 
 Of  boundless  shame  and  boundless  gratitude. 
 
 What  large  atonement  that  great  conscience  pays  ! 
 For  every  wounding  slight,  a  psalm  of  praise ; 
 Unending  worship  shall  the  debt  consume ; 
 For  hours  of  rage,  a  life  of  martyrdom. 
 
454  SONGS   OF   THE  LIBERAL   FAITH. 
 
 Yet  in  such  morning  glow,  such  vital  day, 
 What  chilling  sense  of  claim  or  debt  can  stay  ? 
 O  wondrous  power  of  noble  love,  to  free 
 From  binding  Law  to  glorious  Liberty! 
 
 Dream  not  that  one  hath  drained  the  exhaustless  sea ; 
 Full  pours  the  tide  in  widening  stream  for  thee  ; 
 Lift  for  new  liberties  that  conquering  sign  ; 
 Shatter  the  severing  walls  with  touch  divine ! 
 
 OCTAVIUS  BROOKS  FROTHINGHAM. 
 
 (1822.) 
 
 Rev.  Octavius  B.  Frothingham,  son  of  Rev.  Nathaniel  L,  Froth- 
 ingham,  D.D.,  a  sketch  of  whom  and  some  of  whose  hymns  have  been 
 given  in  another  part  of  this  volume,  was  born  in  Boston,  Nov.  26,  1822. 
 He  pursued  his  earlier  classical  studies  in  the  Latin  School  in  that  city ; 
 graduated  at  Harvard  College  in  1843,  and  at  the  Cambridge  Divinity 
 School  in  1846  ;  was  ordained  as  pastor  of  the  North  Church,  Salem, 
 March  10,  1847  ;  was  installed  minister  of  the  First  Unitarian  Church  in 
 Jersey  City,  Sept.  11,  1855,  and  of  the  Third  Unitarian  Church  in  New 
 York  City  in  i860,  where  he  still  continues  his  labors.  He  married, 
 March  23,  1847,  Caroline  E.  Curtis,  daughter  of  Caleb  Curtis,  Esq.,  of 
 Boston. 
 
 Mr.  Frothingham's  position  is  quite  independent  of  the  Unitarian 
 body,  to  which  he  once  belonged.  He  has  been  the  president  of  the 
 Free  Religious  Association  since  its  formation.  He  has  been  deeply 
 interested  in  most  of  the  humane  or  philanthropic  movements  of  his  day, 
 and  has  been  a  busy  and  prolific  writer  and  author,  having  published  as 
 many  as  twenty-seven  magazine  articles  for  the  "  Christian  Examiner," 
 about  one  hundred  and  thirty  tracts  and  pamphlets,  setting  forth  in  ser- 
 mon or  essay  his  views  and  sentiments  on  a  great  variety  of  subjects, 
 social,  political,  theological,  &c,  together  with  not  a  few  volumes  of 
 unusual  interest  and  importance.  The  latter  are  as  follows  :  Two  Books 
 for  Children,  —  "Parables,"  1863,  and  "Patriarchs,"  1864;  a  Translation 
 of  Renan's  Critical  Essays,  under  the  title  of  "  Studies  of  Religious 
 History  and  Criticism,"  1864 ;  "  A  Child's  Book  of  Religion,"  1866  and 
 1870;  "The  Religion  of  Humanity,"  1872;  and  the  "Life  of  Theodore 
 Parker,"  1874.  Mr.  Frothingham  is  greatly  distinguished  as  a  man  of 
 thought  and  erudition,  and  his  style  is  at  once  graceful  and  brilliant. 
 
OCTAVIUS  BROOKS  FR0TH1NGHAM.  455 
 
 I  >;  the  various  hymns  which  he  has  written,  we  are  not  aware  that 
 more  than  one  has  ever  been  published.  This  was  written  for  the  grad- 
 uating exercises  0!  bis  class  in  the  Divinity  School  in  1846,  and  has 
 found  a  place  in  at  hast  several  of  the  Collections,  at  home  and  abroad. 
 Enough  of  the  quality  of  his  father's  sacred  poetry  is  found  in  this  to 
 had  us  to  regret  that  he  has  not  given  us  others  of  like  merit. 
 
 THE    SOLDIERS    OF   THE   CROSS. 
 
 'T^HOU  Lord  of  hosts,  whose  guiding  hand 
 *■       Hath  brought  us  here,  before  thy  face, 
 Our  spirits  wait  for  thy  command, 
 Our  silent  hearts  implore  thy  peace. 
 
 Those  spirits  lay  their  noblest  powers, 
 As  offerings,  on  thy  holy  shrine  ; 
 
 Thine  was  the  strength  that  nourished  ours  ; 
 The  soldiers  of  the  Cross  are  thine. 
 
 While  watching  on  our  arms,  at  night, 
 We  saw  thine  angels  round  us  move  j 
 
 We  heard  thy  call,  we  felt  thy  light, 
 And  followed,  trusting  to  thy  love. 
 
 And  now  with  hymn  and  prayer  we  stand, 
 To  give  our  strength  to  thee,  Great  God  J 
 
 We  would  redeem  thy  holy  land, 
 
 That  land  which  sin  so  long  has  trod. 
 
 Send  us  where'er  thou  wilt,  O  Lord  ! 
 
 Through  rugged  toil  and  wearying  fight ; 
 Thy  conquering  love  shall  be  our  sword, 
 
 And  faith  in  thee  our  truest  might. 
 
 Send  down  thy  constant  aid,  we  pray  ; 
 
 Be  thy  pure  angels  with  us  still  ; 
 Thy  truth,  —  be  that  our  firmest  stay  ; 
 
 Our  only  rest,  to  do  thy  will. 
 
456  SONGS   OF  THE  LIBERAL   FAITH. 
 
 CAROLINE  ATHERTON  MASON. 
 (1823.) 
 
 Mrs.  Caroline  A.  Mason  was  born  at  Marblehead,  Mass.,  in  1823. 
 Her  father  was  Dr.  Calvin  Briggs,  of  that  town.  She  married  Charles 
 Mason,  Esq.,  a  lawyer  of  Fitchburg,  Mass.,  where  she  now  lives.  Her 
 earlier  poems  were  published  in  the  "  Salem  Register,"  under  the  signa- 
 ture of  "  Caro."  She  afterwards  contributed  to  the  "National  Era" 
 and  "Anti-Slavery  Standard."  She  has  also  written  for  the  " Congre- 
 gationalism" the  "  Liberal  Christian,"  the  "Monthly  Religious  Magazine," 
 the  "  Independent,"  the  "  Christian  Union,"  and  occasionally  for  other 
 papers  and  periodicals.  In  1852  she  published  a  volume  of  her  verses, 
 entitled  "  Utterance  :  A  Collection  of  Home-Poems."  These  were  the 
 productions  of  her  earlier  days.  They  gave  good  promise,  however,  of 
 the  still  better  offerings  of  her  maturer  years.  The  few  of  the  latter 
 which  we  present  here  were  published  in  various  journals  and  magazines, 
 which  have  gladly  welcomed  them  to  their  columns  ;  and  they  are  of  such 
 a  character  as  to  justify  us  in  expressing  the  hope  that  a  new  and  full 
 edition  of  her  poems  may  ere  long  appear  from  the  press. 
 
 WAKING. 
 
 T  HAVE  done  at  length  with  dreaming  • 
 
 Henceforth,  O  thou  soul  of  mine  ! 
 Thou  must  take  up  sword  and  buckler, 
 Waging  warfare  most  divine. 
 
 Life  is  struggle,  combat,  victory  ! 
 
 Wherefore  have  I  slumbered  on 
 With  my  forces  all  unmarshalled, 
 
 With  my  weapons  all  undrawn  ? 
 
 Oh,  how  many  a  glorious  record 
 
 Had  the  angels  of  me  kept, 
 Had  I  done  instead  of  doubted, 
 
 Had  I  warred  instead  of  wept ! 
 
 But  begone,  regret,  bewailing ! 
 
 Ye  had  weakened  at  the  best : 
 I  have  tried  the  trusty  weapons 
 
 Resting  erst  within  my  breast. 
 
CAROLINE  ATHERTOX  MASON.  457 
 
 I  have  wakened  to  my  duty, 
 
 To  a  knowledge  strong  and  deep, 
 That  I  recked  not  of  aforetime, 
 
 In  my  long,  inglorious  sleep. 
 
 For  the  end  of  life  is  service, 
 
 And  I  felt  it  not  before, 
 And  I  dreamed  not  how  stupendous 
 
 Was  the  meaning  that  it  bore. 
 
 In  this  subtle  sense  of  being 
 
 Newly  stirred  in  every  vein, 
 I  can  feel  a  throb  electric,  — 
 
 Pleasure  half  allied  to  pain. 
 
 'Tis  so  sweet  and  yet  so  awful, 
 
 So  bewildering,  yet  brave, 
 To  be  king  in  every  conflict, 
 
 Where  before  I  crouched  a  slave  ! 
 
 'Tis  so  glorious  to  be  conscious 
 
 Of  a  growing  power  within, 
 Stronger  than  the  rallying  forces 
 
 Of  a  charged  and  marshalled  sin  ! 
 
 Never  in  those  old  romances 
 
 Felt  I  half  the  thrill  of  life 
 That  I  feel  within  me  stirring, 
 
 Standing  in  this  place  of  strife. 
 
 Oh.  those  olden  days  of  dalliance, 
 
 When  I  wantoned  with  my  fate  ! 
 When  I  trifled  with  a  knowledge 
 
 That  had  well  nigh  come  too  late  ! 
 
 Yet,  my  soul,  look  not  behind  thee  ; 
 
 Thou  hast  work  to  do  at  last  : 
 Let  the  brave  toils  of  the  Present 
 
 Over-arch  the  crumbled  Past. 
 
458  SOJVGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 Build  thy  great  acts  high  and  higher  ; 
 
 Build  them  on  the  conquered  sod 
 Where  thy  weakness  first  fell  bleeding 
 
 And  thy  first  prayer  rose  to  God  ! 
 
 NOT    YET. 
 
 "^TOT  yet :  —  along  the  purpling  sky 
 
 We  see  the  dawning  ray, 
 But  leagues  of  cloudy  distance  lie 
 Between  us  and  the  day. 
 
 Not  yet :  —  the  aloe  waits  serene 
 Its  promised  advent  hour,  — 
 
 A  patient  century  of  green 
 To  one  full  perfect  flower. 
 
 Not  yet:  — no  harvest  song  is  sung 
 
 In  the  sweet  ear  of  spring, 
 Nor  hear  we,  while  the  blade  is  young, 
 
 The  reaper's  sickle  swing. 
 
 Not  yet :  ■ —  before  the  crown,  the  cross ; 
 
 The  struggle  ere  the  prize  ; 
 Before  the  gain  the  fearful  loss, 
 
 And  death  ere  Paradise. 
 
 IN   SICKNESS. 
 
 nPHE  Sabbath-bells  ring  out  upon  the  air, 
 
 Calling  God's  children  to  his  house  of  prayer ; 
 Could  I  but  rise  and  go,  and  meet  him  there  ! 
 
 I  hear  the  people  pass  along  the  street : 
 
 Their  rustling  garments  and  their  churchward  feet 
 
 Make  happy  music-murmurs,  low  and  sweet. 
 
 J 
 
CAROLINE  ATHERTON  MASON.  459 
 
 The  breath  of  summer-flowers  is  in  my  room,  — 
 The  scent  of  lilies  and  the  faint  perfume 
 Of  crimson  pinks  and  roses  all  abloom. 
 
 And  through  my  open  window  comes  a  rush 
 Of  sudden  music,  —  some  melodious  thrush 
 Pouring  his  heart  out  in  one  happy  gush  ! 
 
 But  lovelier  far  than  any  bird  of  spring, 
 Sweeter  than  summer's  sweetest  blossoming, 
 Thy  sacred  altars,  O  my  God  and  King ! 
 
 Better  one  day  thy  holy  courts  within 
 Than  are  a  thousand  spent  in  mirthful  sin  : 
 Open  his  gates,  that  I  may  enter  in  ! 
 
 Nay :  these  preventing  bonds  j  this  lifted  rod  ; 
 These  long,  long  hours  of  anguish,  leaden-shod :  — 
 Let  me  be  still,  and  know  that  thou  art  God. 
 
 Oh,  teach  me  —  what  so  slow  I  am  to  learn  — 
 That  where  true  spirits  for  thy  presence  yearn, 
 There  is  thy  temple,  there  thine  altars  burn. 
 
 Believing  this,  these  narrow  walls  expand 
 
 Into  cathedral  glory,  vast  and  grand, 
 
 With  fretted  dome  and  arches  over-spanned. 
 
 Yet  need  I  even  these  fancied  signs  of  thee  ? 
 Dear  Lord,  but  enter  in,  and  dwell  with  me  ! 
 Then  shall  my  heart  both  shrine  and  temple  be. 
 
 DARK   HOURS. 
 
 /^\H,  my  tried  soul,  be  patient !     Roughest  rinds 
 ^^^   Fold  over  sweetest  fruitage  ;  heaviest  clouds 
 Rain  the  most  ample  harvests  on  the  fields ; 
 The  grass  grows  greenest  where  the  wintry  snows 
 Have  fallen  deepest ;  and  the  fairest  flowers 
 
460 
 
 SOArGS  OF   THE  LIBERAL   FAITH. 
 
 Spring  from  old  dead  decay.     The  darkest  mine 
 Yields  the  most  flashing  jewels  from  its  cell ; 
 And  stars  are  born  of  darkness,  day  of  night. 
 Oh,  my  tired  soul,  be  patient  !     Yet  for  thee 
 Goes  on  the  secret  alchemy  of  life. 
 God,  the  one-Giver,  grants  no  boon  of  earth 
 That  he  withholds  from  thee  ;  and  from  the  dark 
 Of  thy  deep  sorrow  shall  evolve  new  light, 
 New  strength  to  do  and  suffer,  new  resolves, 
 Perchance  new  gladnesses  and  freshest  hopes  ! 
 Oh  !  there  are  times  when  I  can  no  more  weep 
 That  I  have  suffered ;  for  I  know  great  strength 
 Is  born  of  suffering  ;  and  I  trust  that  still, 
 Wrapped  in  the  dry  husk  of  my  outer  life, 
 Lie  warmer  seeds  than  ever  yet  have  burst 
 From  its  dull  covering !     Stronger  purposes 
 Stir  consciously  within,  and  make  me  great 
 With  a  new  life,  —  a  life  akin  to  God's, 
 Which  I  must  nurture  for  the  holy  skies. 
 Help  me,  thou  great  All-Patient !  for  the  flesh 
 Will  sometimes  falter,  and  the  spirit  fall. 
 Add  to  my  human  thy  divinest  strength, 
 When  next  I  waver  ;  rouse  my  faith  as  now, 
 That  out  of  darkness  I  may  see  great  light, 
 And  follow  where  it  ever  leads,  —  to  Thee  ! 
 
 •DAILY   BREAD. 
 
 I"   PRAY,  with  meek  hands  on  my  breast, 
 "Thy  will  be  done,  thy  kingdom  come." 
 But  shouldst  thou  call  my  dear  ones  home, 
 Should  I  still  say,  "  'Tis  best : 
 Thy  will  be  done  "  ? 
 
 I  cannot  tell.     I  probe  my  heart 
 With  sharpest  instruments  of  pain, 
 And  listen  if  the  sweet  refrain 
 
 Still  wells  up  through  the  smart,  — 
 "  Thy  will  be  done." 
 
CAROLINE  ATHERTOX  MASON.  461 
 
 I  cannot  tell.     I  yield  the  quest, 
 Content  if  only,  day  by  day, 
 
 My  God  shall  give  me  grace  to  say, 
 
 II  Father,  thou  knowest  best : 
 
 Thy  will  be  done." 
 
 He  gives  no  strength  for  coming  ill 
 
 Until  its  advent.     Then  he  rolls 
 
 His  love  in  on  his  waiting  souls, 
 Sure  of  their  sweet  "  Thy  will, 
 Thy  will  be  done." 
 
 "  Give  us  this  day  our  daily  bread,"  — 
 So  prayed  the  Christ,  and  so  will  I : 
 Father,  my  daily  need  supply, 
 
 Or,  if  I  go  unfed, 
 
 "Thy  will  be  done." 
 
 And  should  those  fiery  trials  come 
 I've  wot  of,  thy  dear  word  I'll  trust 
 To  help  me  bear  whate'er  I  must, 
 
 And  say,  —  all  murmurs  dumb,  — 
 "  Thy  will  be  done." 
 
 And  when  with  solemn  care,  some  day, 
 Sweet  friends  my  dying  eyes  shall  close, 
 Hear  my  last  prayer,  and  give  to  those 
 
 I  love  best  strength  to  say, 
 "Thy  will  be  done." 
 
 A   SONG    IN   THE    NIGHT. 
 
 "  There  shall  be  no  night  there."  — Rev.  xxi.  25. 
 
 "VTO  night,  no  night !    O  blessed  dawn, 
 When  this  frail  body  shall  put  on 
 Immortal  robes  and  bright  renown, 
 And  with  God's  ransomed  ones  sit  down. 
 
462  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 No  night  of  sorrow !     I  shall  be 
 From  every  grief  for  ever  free  ; 
 For  God's  own  hand,  with  gentle  sway, 
 Shall  wipe  my  latest  tear  away. 
 
 No  night  of  trial !     Here  below 
 What  thorns  amid  my  roses  grow  ! 
 But  there  the  flowers  of  my  delight 
 Shall  know  no  thorn,  shall  fear  no  blight. 
 
 No  night  of  sin  !     Thrice  blessed  day  ! 
 How  often  here  I  go  astray  ! 
 But  when  I  reach  that  heavenly  shore, 
 I  shall  be  safe,  and  sin  no  more. 
 
 No  night  of  sickness  !     Here  in  pain 
 How  oft  I  sink,  then  rise  again  ! 
 But  there  the  tree  of  healing  grows,  — 
 An  antidote  for  all  my  woes. 
 
 No  night  of  death  !     O  cherished  few 
 Whose  hearts  on  earth  to  mine  are  true  ! 
 There  we  shall  meet,  and,  meeting,  be 
 From  change  and  death  for  ever  free  ! 
 
 No  night  of  tempest !     Storms  arise, 
 And  overcast  these  earthly  skies  : 
 There  all  shall  be  serenely  bright, 
 Nor  temp'ests  blow,  nor  storms  affright. 
 
 No  night  of  trouble,  want,  or  care  ! 
 No  night  of  sadness  or  despair  ! 
 No  night,  no  night,  but  there  alway 
 Calm,  bright,  serene,  celestial  day  ! 
 
 No  night,  no  night !     O  blessed  clime  ! 
 Fain  would  I  leap  this  shoal  of  time, 
 And  rest  with  all  the  ransomed  band, 
 Within  that  bright,  that  happy  land  ! 
 
CAROLINE  ATHERTON  MASON.  463 
 
 BEAUTY    FOR    ASHES. 
 
 T  DARE  not  echo  those  who  say 
 
 That  life  is  but  a  troubled  way, 
 A  barren  waste  devoid  of  charms, 
 And  rife  with  dangers  and  alarms  ; 
 
 A  cross,  to  take  up  and  to  bear ; 
 A  vapor,  chilly  with  despair  ; 
 A  desert,  where  no  roses  blow, 
 Nor  any  healing  waters  flow. 
 
 Is  life  a  cross  ?     O  burden  blest 
 
 To  those  of  God's  dear  love  possessed ! 
 
 Let  me  on  him  but  lay  it  down, 
 
 And,  lo  !  my  cross  becomes  my  crown  ! 
 
 Is  it  a  desert  vast  and  dim  ? 
 On  every  side  beholding  him, 
 The  barren  wilderness  doth  bloom 
 And  sweeten  with  a  sweet  perfume. 
 
 Is  it  a  vapor  chill  with  death  ? 
 I'll  breathe  it  with  a  trusting  breath  : 
 'Tis  health  to  me  !     'Tis  sweet  and  rare 
 As  Araby's  best  spices  are  ! 
 
 Oh,  only  he  who  lets  his  smart 
 Grow  cankered  in  a  thankless  heart, 
 Dares  scout  with  carping  discontent 
 His  thousand  blessings  daily  sent. 
 
 And  he  who  has  and  would  increase 
 Within  his  soul  God's  perfect  peace, 
 Because  the  Lord  is  made  his  song, 
 May  well  go  singing  all  day  long  ! 
 
464  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 MATIN    HYMN. 
 
 "  My  voice  shalt  thou  hear  in  the  morning,  O  Lord :  in  the  morning  will  1  direct  my 
 prayer  unto  thee,  and  will  look  up."  — Psalms. 
 
 "  r  I  AHE  morning  breaks  upon  my  eyes, 
 
 Like  glimpses  of  a  purer  world,  — 
 As  if  the  wings  of  Paradise 
 
 O'er  earth  were  suddenly  unfurled. 
 
 I  lift  the  sash  and  gaze  abroad 
 On  the  sweet  earth  so  fair,  so  bright : 
 
 I  raise  my  heart  to  thee,  O  God, 
 
 And  cry,  "  I  thank  thee  for  the  light." 
 
 Beyond  the  summer  hills  lie  green, 
 
 Fringed  with  their  wealth  of  waving  trees, 
 
 That  sparkle  in  the  sunny  sheen 
 
 And  tremble  in  the  trembling  breeze. 
 
 O  God  !  I  thank  thee  for  each  sight 
 Of  beauty  that  thy  hand  doth  give,  — 
 
 For  sunny  skies  and  air  and  light ; 
 O  God,  I  thank  thee  that  I  live  ! 
 
 That  life  I  consecrate  to  thee, 
 
 And  ever,  as  the  day  is  born, 
 On  wings  of  joy  my  soul  would  flee, 
 
 And  thank  thee  for  another  morn  ;  — 
 
 Another  day  in  which  to  cast 
 
 Some  silent  deed  of  love  abroad, 
 That,  greatening  as  it  journeys  past, 
 
 May  do  some  earnest  work  for  God  ;  — 
 
 Another  day  to  do,  to  dare  ; 
 
 To  tax  anew  my  growing  strength  ; 
 To  arm  my  soul  with  faith  and  prayer  ; 
 
 And  so  reach  heaven  and  thee  at  length. 
 
CAROLINE  ATHERTON  MASON.  465 
 
 EVENTIDE. 
 
 From  the  "  Salem  Register." 
 
 A  T  cool  of  day,  with  God  I  walk 
 My  garden's  grateful  shade: 
 
 I  hear  his  voice  among  the  trees, 
 And  I  am  not  afraid. 
 
 I  see  his  presence  in  the  night,  — 
 
 And,  though  my  heart  is  awed, 
 I  do  not  quail  beneath  the  sight 
 
 Or  nearness  of  my  God. 
 
 He  speaks  to  me  in  every  wind, 
 
 He  smiles  from  every  star  ; 
 He  is  not  deaf  to  me,  nor  blind, 
 
 Nor  absent  ;  nor  afar. 
 
 His  hand,  that  shuts  the  flowers  to  sleep, 
 
 Each  in  its  dewy  fold, 
 Is  strong  my  feeble  life  to  keep, 
 
 And  competent  to  hold. 
 
 I  cannot  walk  in  darkness  long,  — 
 
 My  light  is  by  my  side  ; 
 I  cannot  stumble  or  go  wrong 
 
 While  following  such  a  guide. 
 
 He  is  my  stay  and  my  defence  ;  — 
 
 How  shall  I  fail  or  fall? 
 My  iielper  is  Omnipotence  ! 
 
 My  ruler  ruleth  all  ! 
 
 The  powers  below  and  powers  above 
 
 Are  subject  to  his  care  :  — 
 I  cannot  wander  from  his  love 
 
 Who  loves  me  everywhere. 
 
 Thus  dowered,  and  guarded  thus,  with  him 
 
 I  walk  this  peaceful  shade  ; 
 I  hear  his  voice  among  the  trees, 
 
 And  I  am  not  afraid  ! 
 30 
 
466  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 LYDIA   L,   A.   VERY. 
 
 (1823.) 
 
 Lydia  Louisa  Ann  Very,  sister  of  Jones  and  Washington  Very,  both 
 of  whom  have  a  place  in  the  roll  of  our  singers,  was  born  in  Salem,  Nov. 
 2,  1823.  For  about  thirty  years  she  has  been,  with  her  sister,  Frances 
 Eliza,  a  teacher  in  the  schools  of  her  native  city.  She  shares  largely  the 
 fine  poetic  gift  which  distinguishes  the  family,  and  in  1856  published  a 
 volume  of  her  verses,  which  was  printed  by  W.  F.  Draper,  Andover, 
 Mass.  Since  then,  she  has  from  time  to  time  contributed  other  offer- 
 ings to  various  Boston  and  Salem  papers,  while  yet  engaged  in  her  voca- 
 tion as  a  teacher.  As  an  artist,  she  has  produced  pictorial  illustrations 
 of  "Little  Red  Riding  Hood,"  and  other  children's  stories,  accompanied 
 by  exquisite  designs  and  pretty  juvenile  verses.  These  have  proved  to 
 be  very  popular,  and  have  been  republished  in  Germany. 
 
 Of  the  four  poems  which  are  here  given,  the  first  two  are  taken  from 
 the  volume  of  1856,  and  the  last  two  are  selected  from  the  fugitive  pieces 
 which  she  has  since  contributed  fco  the  papers. 
 
 TO    THE   VIRGIN. 
 
 f~\  HOLY  Mother  !  had  no  angel's  voice 
 
 Proclaimed  the  Christ  should  nestle  in  thine  arms, 
 Had  no  glad  tidings  bid  thine  heart  rejoice, 
 
 Would'st  thou  have  seen  aught  but  an  infant's  charms  ? 
 
 Would  the  small  dimpled  hand  have  told  to  thee 
 That  it  possessed  for  men  a  healing  power? 
 
 That  it  should  make  the  blind  new  beauty  see, 
 
 From  the  blue  heavens  to  the  small  blushing  flower? 
 
 In  the  low  childish  voice,  would'st  thou  have  heard 
 Token  of  Him  who  should  command  the  sea; 
 
 Who  should  recall  the  spirit  by  a  word, 
 
 In  the  same  earthly  home  once  more  to  be  ? 
 
 Or,  would  the  Saviour  have  been  held  by  thee 
 As  now  full  many  a  babe  unconscious  lies, 
 
 Plaything  for  wealth,  burden  for  poverty, 
 An  unknown  angel  in  an  earthly  guise  ! 
 
 . 
 
*    LYDIA    L.   A.    VERY.  4^7 
 
 Methinks  the  Saviour  was  to  thee  revealed 
 That  thou  should'st  grieve  him  not  in  infancy, 
 
 Proud  that  thine  arms  the  Holy  Child  might  shield, 
 The  opening  promise  of  earth's  brighter  day ! 
 
 TO    THE    UNKNOWN    CHRIST. 
 
 HPHOU  wert  beside  us  on  our  daily  way, 
 
 And  we  perceived  not  thy  benignant  eyes  ; 
 Nor  marked  thee  stop,  earth's  sorrows  to  allay, 
 Reaching  the  wretchedness  that  lowest  lies. 
 
 Careless  we  walked,  nor  saw  the  blind  receive 
 The  sight  of  things  their  inward  eyes  knew  not ; 
 
 The  famished  multitudes  by  thee  were  fed, 
 And  we  of  living  bread  no  morsel  sought. 
 
 We  gazed  upon  the  dead,  and  saw  the  tomb 
 Seal  up  its  treasure  from  our  weeping  eyes ; 
 
 Nor  felt  thy  glory  shine  amid  the  gloom, 
 
 Nor  heard  thy  voice  say  to  the  soul,  M  Arise  ! " 
 
 Women  we  saw,  bowed  down  for  eighteen  years, 
 Who  'neath  their  cross  a  patient  spirit  wore ; 
 
 Nor  knew  thine  eye  had  rested  there  with  ours, 
 And  thy  compassion  half  their  burden  bore. 
 
 Or  when  the  Sea  of  Life  in  storms  rose  high, 
 While  heavy  surges  swept  us  at  their  will, 
 
 And  calm  arose,  —  we  knew  not  thou  wert  nigh, 
 Walking  the  waves  and  saying,  "  Peace,  be  still ! 
 
 And  when  the  sick  and  weary  round  thee  came 
 To  hear  thy  tenderness  and  love  revealed, 
 
 We  pressed  not  through  the  crowd  to  touch  thy  robe, 
 And  of  our  long-borne  anguish  to  be  healed. 
 
 For  thou,  unkuoiL'n,  the  earth  hast  wandered  o'er, 
 The  gorgeous  fanes  we  reared  for  thee  passed  by : 
 
 We  sought  thee  not  in  earth's  low  places,  where 
 Thy  ministry  now,  as  of  old,  doth  lie. 
 
468  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL   FAITH. 
 
 THE    PROMISES. 
 
 "LTUNGER  no  more,  O  starving  ones  of  earth ! 
 
 Who  know  not  where  to  find  your  daily  bread, 
 Whose  life-long  struggle  is  a  strife  to  live,  — 
 
 Know  by  his  hand  all  hungry  ones  are  fed  ! 
 He  will  not  thrust  you  empty  from  His  door ; 
 Receive  the  Bread  of  Life,  nor  hunger  more  !  * 
 
 Thirst  never  more,  O  sinful  ones  of  earth, 
 Who  by  forbidden  waters  learned  to  stray, 
 
 Who  from  the  innocence  that  guards  each  birth 
 Wander  through  guilty  pleasures  far  away  ! 
 
 Redeemed,  forgiven,  come  walk  by  cooling  streams, 
 
 In  living  waters  lose  your  feverish  dreams  ! 
 
 Faint  never  more,  O  weary  ones  of  earth, 
 With  heavy  crosses  painful  to  be  borne  ! 
 
 There's  one  whose  eye  perceives  each  spirit's  worth, 
 Pities  each  soul  by  daily  trials  worn, — 
 
 His  hand  shall  loose  at  last  the  weary  load, 
 
 And  lead  each  pilgrim  to  his  blest  abode. 
 
 THE    FIRST    CABLE. 
 
 HTHERE  is  a  cable  stretched  from  earth  to  heaven ; 
 
 The  waves"  of  thought  it  deeply  underlies, 
 Where  all  is  calm  and  still  as  summer's  even, 
 Where  deep  to  deep  with  solemn  voice  replies. 
 
 Far,  far  beneath  the  surf  of  passion's  foam, 
 Or  where  light  bubbles  dally  with  the  wind, 
 
 Where  life's  bright  sands  have  found  a  quiet  home, 
 And  bury  treasures  that  no  eye  can  find. 
 
 Cable  of  Prayer !  where  messages  do  pass 
 More  subtle  than  the  electric  fluid  sends, 
 
 Where  words  gush  forth  unmeasured  and  unbought, 
 And  through  the  unknown  realm  we  reach  our  friends  ! 
 
WILLIAM  ROUNSEVILLE  ALGER.  469 
 
 Cable  of  Prayer  !  stretched  ages  long  ago 
 
 Beneath  the  tide  of  pagan  mystery, 
 Beneath  the  waves  of  human  guilt  and  woe, 
 
 Stretching  beyond  the  Future's  boundless  sea.     » 
 
 Cable  of  Prayer  !  whose  rivets  never  break, 
 
 Fastened  secure  to  hearts  in  earth  and  heaven  ! 
 
 The  solid  earth  with  mighty  shocks  may  quake 
 Ere  from  the  Rock  of  Ages  thou  art  riven ! 
 
 Cable  of  Prayer !  while  mortal  life  shall  last, 
 Or  human  weakness  need  an  heavenly  friend, 
 
 Still  shall  the  heart,  'mid  sins  and  sorrows  cast, 
 Comfort  receive  and  supplications  send. 
 
 WILLIAM    ROUNSEVILLE   ALGER. 
 (1823.) 
 
 Rev.  William  ROUNSEVILLE  Alger  was  born  in  Freetown,  Mass., 
 in  1S23.  Having  pursued  his  earlier  studies  at  Pembroke,  X.I  I.,  and  else- 
 where, he  entered  the  Divinity  School  at  Cambridge,  where  he  graduated 
 in  1847.  In  the  same  year  he  was  settled  over  the  Mount  Pleasant 
 Society  at  Roxbury,  Mass.  He  became  the  minister  of  the  Bulfinch 
 Street  Church,  in  Boston,  in  1855,  and  was  afterward  preacher  at  Music 
 Hall,  where  Theodore  Parker  had  stood  from  Sunday  to  Sunday  during 
 the  last  years  of  his  memorable  public  ministrations.  Mr.  Alger  received 
 the  honorary  degree  of  Master  of  Arts  from  Harvard  College,  in  1852. 
 
 Beside  contributing  numerous  theological  and  literary  articles  to  the 
 "Christian  Examiner,"  the  "Galaxy,"  and  other  periodicals,  he  h:is  pub- 
 lished a  variety  of  volumes  of  an  important  and  interesting  character, 
 which  have  gained  him  no  little  celebrity  as  an  author:  a  small  volume 
 giving  a  Symbolic  History  of  the  Cross  of  Christ,  1851  ;  "The  Poetry  of 
 the  East,"  containing,  with  an  Introduction,  more  than  four  hundred 
 of  his  metrical  versions  from  Oriental  literature,  1856  ;  several  other 
 enlarged  and  greatly  enriched  editions  of  the  same  ;  "  A  Critical  History 
 of  the  Doctrine  of  the  Future  Life,"  a  royal  octavo  volume  of  nine  hun- 
 dred and  fourteen  pages,  with  a  complete  Bibliography  of  the  subject, 
 1S64  ;  various  later  editions  of  the  same,  revised  and  improved  ;  "The 
 
470  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 Genius  of  Solitude,"  in  four  parts, — the  Solitudes  of  Nature,  the  Soli- 
 tudes of  Man,  the  Morals  of  Solitude,  and  Sketches  of  Lonely  Charac- 
 ters, 1867  J  "The  Friendships  of  Women,"  1868.  Mr.  Alger  also  edited, 
 in  1858,  "  Studies  of  Christianity,"  a  volume  containing  a  series  of  theo- 
 logical or  religious  papers  by  the  Rev.  James  Martineau.  To  his  labors 
 as  a  preacher  and  author  he  has  added  those  of  a  lecturer,  having 
 frequently  appeared  before  lyceums  and  popular  audiences,  to  which 
 he  has  spoken  in  his  own  instructive  and  brilliant  style  upon  a  large 
 variety  of  topics. 
 
 His  fame  will  perhaps  rest  principally  upon  his  "  History  of  the  Doc- 
 trine of  the  Future  Life,"  unquestionably  the  most  learned  and  elabo- 
 rate theological  work  ever  produced  in  this  country.  Having  devoted 
 long  years  of  arduous  study  and  consulted  not  less  than  six  thousand 
 different  authorities  or  books  in  its  preparation,  he  presents  us  in  his 
 solid  volume  the  opinions  of  men  of  all  races  and  in  every  age  and  clime 
 concerning  the  fate  of  the  soul,  and  clothes  all  the  endless  details  of 
 fact  and  well-marshalled  array  of  discussions  with  which  he  crowds  his 
 pages  with  a  beautiful  drapery  that  lends  to  his  scholastic  lore  the 
 fascination  of  romance.  The  Bibliographical  Appendix,  by  Ezra  Ab- 
 bot, LL.D.,  embraces  a  description  of  more  than  five  thousand  dis- 
 tinct works,  carefully  arranged  in  chronological  order  and  furnished  with 
 an  Alphabetical  Index,  and  is  a  vast  repertory  of  the  literature  of  the 
 great  theme  which  Mr.  Alger  treats. 
 
 In  the  latter  part  of  the  fourth  and  last  edition  of  the  "  Poetry  of  the 
 Orient,"  issued  by  his  publishers,  Roberts  Brothers,  in  1874,  we  find 
 various  hymns  and  poems  which  are  entirely  Mr.  Alger's  own  produc- 
 tions. From  these  we  make  the  following  selections,  except  that  the 
 lines,  "The  Bitter  Cup  Sweet,"  are  from  the  first  part  of  the  volume. 
 Those  who  are  familiar  with  our  author's  works  and  know  how  fond  he 
 is  of  the  best  poetry  of  different  countries,  and  how  rare  a  vein  of  poetry 
 enriches  all  his  own  productions  in  prose,  will  not  be  surprised  that  his 
 pen  has  thus  finely  run  also  to  verse. 
 
 THE   BITTER   CUP    SWEET. 
 
 "V/TY  God  once  mixed  a  harsh  cup,  for  me  to  drink  from  it, 
 
 1  And  it  was  full  of  acrid  bitterness  intensest ; 
 
 The  black  and  nauseating  draught  did  make  me  shrink  from  it, 
 
 And  cry,  "  O  Thou  who  every  draught  alike  dispensest, 
 
 This  cup  of  anguish  sore,  bid  me  not  to  quaff  of  it, 
 
 Or  pour  away  the  dregs  and  the  deadliest  half  of  it ! " 
 
 But  still  the  cup  he  held  ;  and  seeing  he  ordained  it, 
 
 One  glance  at  him,  —  it  turned  to  sweetness  as  I  drained  it. 
 
WILLIAM  ROUNSEVILLE  ALGER.  47 1 
 
 FUNERAL  HYMN. 
 
 '"PHE  worlds  that  shine  above  us  nightly, 
 
 Then  hide  beyond  our  clew, 
 Do  surely  shine  all  day  as  brightly 
 Behind  their  veil  of  blue. 
 
 When  friends,  with  natural  misgiving, 
 
 We  lay  in  earth's  cold  bed, 
 We  know  that  thus  they  still  are  living 
 
 Where  comes  no  sigh  nor  dread. 
 
 O,  while  our  saddest  tears  are  stealing, 
 When  fate's  worst  dart  has  sped, 
 
 Tis  light,  not  darkness,  is  concealing 
 Our  well-beloved  dead. 
 
 Whene'er  a  funeral  bell  is  tolling, 
 
 Some  weary  one  doth  rest ; 
 And  loudly  through  the  skies  are  rolling 
 
 The  anthems  of  the  blest. 
 
 Then  wherefore  should  we  sink  in  sorrow, 
 
 To  part  from  those  we  love  ? 
 Since  God  will  join  us  all  to-morrow, 
 
 In  the  endless  home  above. 
 
 MY    HEART. 
 
 A    SLEEPLESS  night ;  the  rain  pours  fast ; 
 My  wakeful  heart,  between  the  flurries, 
 Now  harks  where  silent  goes  the  past, 
 Now  where  the  threatening  future  hurries. 
 
 O  heart,  thy  listening  must  be  bad  ; 
 
 Seek  what  enduring  will  resembles  ; 
 Behind  are  heard  complainings  sad, 
 
 And  forward  many  a  question  trembles. 
 
 Whate'er  the  danger,  never  shrink  : 
 The  storm  itself  thy  trust  discloses  ; 
 
 The  boat  with  Christ  no  storm  could  sink  ; 
 Lo,  in  thy  bosom  God  reposes. 
 
472  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 THE   BETTER  PART. 
 
 r\  FATHER,  kindly  deign  to  hear 
 ^^^     The  thanks  thy  children  bring  ; 
 Help  us  with  love  and  reverent  fear 
 Thy  lofty  praise  to  sing. 
 
 And  while  before  thy  throne  we  bow, 
 Come  thou  to  every  heart : 
 
 From  sin  O  purify  us  now ; 
 Give  us  that  better  part. 
 
 Remove  to-day  the  world's  wild  din  ; 
 
 Our  souls  from  evil  save  ; 
 Help  us  life's  noblest  crown  to  win  ; 
 
 Guide  us  beyond  the  grave. 
 
 CHRISTMAS    HYMN. 
 
 (1845.) 
 
 TESUS  has  lived  !  and  we  would  bring 
 
 The  world's  glad  thanks  to-day, 
 And  at  his  feet,  while  anthems  ring, 
 The  grateful  offering  lay. 
 
 Jesus  has  lived  !  and  his  pure  life, 
 
 So  perfect  and  sublime, 
 Shall  conquer  man's  dark  sin  and  strife 
 
 Through  every  rank  and  clime. 
 
 Jesus  has  died  !  and  o'er  the  stars 
 Gone  home  to  God  on  high ; 
 
 He  burst  the  grave's  cold  prison-bars, 
 And  said,  Man  cannot  die. 
 
WILLIAM  ROUNSEVILLE  ALGER.  473 
 
 Jesus  yet  lives  !  and  from  the  sky, 
 
 Where  victory  he  wrote, 
 Before  the  good  man's  closing  eye 
 
 Visions  of  glory  float. 
 
 Jesus  yet  lives  !  and  oh,  may  we, 
 
 While  in  this  valley  dim, 
 So  feel  our  immortality 
 
 That  we  may  be  like  him  ! 
 
 HYMN    AT    DIVINITY    SCHOOL. 
 
 (i  847-) 
 
 "\\7TTHIN  the  shadow  of  his  cross  we  stand, 
 
 Whose  words  are  wisdom  to  our  Youth, 
 And  pray  that  he  will  bless  our  humble  band, 
 And  consecrate  us  to  the  truth. 
 
 Oh,  be  his  deathless  love  of  God  and  man, 
 
 And  faith  in  truth,  the  living  power 
 Whose  fruit  shall  crown  our  Christian  toils,  and  span 
 
 With  heavenly  hopes  the  dying  hour. 
 
 Come  down,  his  holy  Spirit  from  above, 
 Direct  each  mind,  and  warm  each  heart ; 
 
 And  ere  we  go,  to  speak  the  truth  in  love, 
 Each  one  anoint  and  set  apart. 
 
 We  are  but  twelve,  and  all  the  fields  are  white 
 
 With  harvests  wide  of  worth  untold  ! 
 Lord,  give  us  tongues  of  fire  and  souls  of  might, 
 
 And  make  us  like  thy  Twelve  of  old. 
 
474  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 INSTALLATION   OF   THOMAS    STARR    KING. 
 
 TDEFORE  thee,  Lord,  a  servant  bows, 
 
 To  set  himself  apart  in  youth, 
 And  breathe  his  consecrating  vows 
 To  preach  salvation  through  the  truth. 
 
 He  does  not  trust  in  human  lore, 
 Or  pride,  for  strength  to  walk  aright, 
 
 But  in  thy  Word,  which  from  of  yore 
 Has  guided  men  through  faith  to  sight. 
 
 With  holy  love  his  heart  inspire, 
 His  mind  with  heavenly  wisdom  fill, 
 
 And  touch  his  faltering  lips  with  fire 
 To  teach  the  lessons  of  thy  will. 
 
 Within  these  courts  prolong  his  years 
 
 Of  labor  for  a  faithful  flock  ! 
 And,  if  assailed  by  foes  and  fears, 
 
 Be  thou  his  friend  and  wall  of  rock. 
 
 FOURTH   OF  JULY. 
 Boston,  1857. 
 
 MOW  bend  we  low,  and  ask  our  fathers'  God 
 
 To  smile  on  all  o'er  which  our  banner  waves, 
 The  busy  mart,  the  deck,  the  prairie  sod, 
 
 Old  Plymouth  roofs,  new  San  Francisco  graves. 
 
 Commending  unto  Him,  the  only  Good, 
 
 This  country  as  one  undivided  fold, 
 Our  patriot  hearts  o'er  all  its  borders  brood, 
 
 From  Eastern  pines  to  Western  strand  of  gold. 
 
WILLIAM  ROUNSEVILLE  ALGER.     +      475 
 
 And  thus  to  Heaven  our  pleading  accents  call  : 
 May  wrong  and  strife  among  us  disappear  ; 
 
 And  soon  their  sacred  rights  be  given  to  all, 
 While  truth  and  love  lead  in  a  Golden  Year  ! 
 
 A    HIGHER   DEVOTION. 
 
 A  WAY,  O  Fame  !     Thy  star  has  set, 
 
 rFo  charm  me  never  more  : 
 Thine  airy  visions  I'll  forget  ; 
 Thy  luring  dreams  are  o'er. 
 
 God's  love,  a  flaming  sun,  appears 
 
 To  fix  my*  wandering  eyes  ; 
 It  hides  each  feebler  orb  that  steers 
 
 Along  the  lighted  skies. 
 
 Rule  now,  O  Lord,  in  this  poor  he^rt 
 
 That  driveth  Fame  away  : 
 That  thy  true  reign  may  not  depart, 
 
 My  God,  I  deeply  pray. 
 
 THE    RESULT. 
 
 T   HOLD  the  laws  of  truth,  so  far  as  understood, 
 
 To  be  the  will  of  God,  and  perfect  in  their  good  ; 
 And  all  the  awful  mysteries  of  things  unknown, 
 I  also  hold  decreed  from  his  unbounded  throne. 
 Since  known  and  unknown  rest  alike  on  him  alone, 
 Xo  room  is  left  for  me  to  question  or  rebel 
 While  ranging  through  the  blended  spheres  of  heaven  and 
 
 hell. 
 Happen  what  may,  above  or  underneath  the  sun, 
 I  only  say,  Thy  will,  O  God,  not  mine,  be  done! 
 
476        m     SONGS   OF   THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 ROBERT  COLLYER. 
 
 (1823.) 
 
 Rev.  Robert  Collyer  was  born  at  Keighly,  Yorkshire,  England,  Dec. 
 8,  1823.  When  he  was  only  nine  days  old,  his  father,  who  was  a  black- 
 smith, returned  to  Blubberhauses,  not  far  distant,  where  he  had  previously 
 lived,  and  where  was  the  only  early  home  the  son  remembers.  All  the 
 school  education  the  latter  ever  received  was  that  which  was  given  him 
 between  his  fourth  and  eighth  years  of  age,  by  one  Willie  Hardie,  who 
 "  took  to  teaching  because  he  had  no  use  of  his  legs,  and  couldn't  do  any 
 other  work."  Robert  early  became  familiar  with  the  Bible,  Bunyan's 
 "Pilgrim's  Progress,"  the  "  Young  Man's  Companion,"  "  Robinson  Cru- 
 soe," &c.  When  he  was  fourteen,  he  went  to  Ilkley,  where  he  worked  as  a 
 blacksmith  with  a  man  by  the  name  of  Birch.  In  1847  ne  joined  the  Meth- 
 odists, and  in  May,  1850,  emigrated  to  America,  having  married  the  day 
 before  he  set  sail  from  England.  For  some  time  after  his  arrival  in  this 
 country  he  was  a  preacher  as  well  as  blacksmith,  at  Shoemakertown,  Pa. 
 Through  his  acquaintance  with  Dr.  Furness  and  others  of  like  religious 
 views,  he  was  led  to  embrace  Unitarianism,  and  was  brought  up  for 
 heresy  by  the  Methodists,  who  refused  to  renew  his  license  to  preach. 
 In  1859  he  removed  to  Chicago,  where  we  well  remember  visiting  his 
 mission  in  the  winter  of  1860-1861.  Not  long  afterward,  friends,  who 
 had  come  to  know  well  his  great  natural  gifts  as  a  preacher  and  his  rich 
 and  sunny  nature,  formed  a  new  society  for  him,  known  as  Unity  Church, 
 of  which  he  has  since  remained  the  pastor.  The  story  of  his  marvellous 
 career  in  that  great  city  of  the  West,  not  only  as  a  preacher  of  the  Liberal 
 Faith,  but  as  one  of  the  most  popular  of  lecturers,  as  a  leader  in  every 
 humane  and  noble  cause,  and  as  the  author  of  several  volumes,  which 
 have  passed  through  successive  editions,  and  have  had  a  wide  circulation, 
 is  too  well  known  to  require  further  notice  here.  The  noble  and  beauti- 
 ful church  edifice  which  his  large  congregation  built  for  him  was  swept 
 away  by  the  terrible  fire  that  desolated  the  city  in  1870 ;  but  another 
 stately  temple  soon  rose  on  its  ruins,  contributions  flowing  in  abundantly 
 from  "many  parts  of  the  country  to  make  good  the  loss,  and  to  enable  him 
 still  to  continue,  with  unabated  success,  his  gracious  ministry.  He  was 
 recently  called  to  the  Church  of  the  Messiah,  in  New  York  City,  with  an 
 offer  of  $10,000  salary,  but  decided  to  remain  in  Chicago  and  with  the 
 people  with  whose  interests  and  history  his  name  and  fame  are  so  inti- 
 mately and  largely  associated. 
 
 Mr.  Collyer,  during  his  stay  in  America,  has  twice  returned  to  Eng- 
 land to  see  his  aged  mother,  who  has  lately  passed  away,  and  to  renew 
 his  acquaintance  with  the  scenes  of  his  childhood  and  youth.  In  one  of 
 these  visits,  when  he  was  the  object  of  much  attention  on  the  part  of 
 
ROBERT  COLLY ER.  477 
 
 those  who  had  learned  of  his  romantic  and  remarkable  life,  he  said,  in  a 
 speech  made  in  London,  June  3,  1871  :  "  There  has  never  been  a  moment 
 in  the  twenty-one  years  that  I  have  been  absent  from  this  land  when  it 
 has  not  been  one  of  the  proudest  recollections  that  I  came  of  this  grand 
 old  English  stock  ;  that  my  grandfather  fought  with  Nelson  at  Trafal- 
 and  my  father  was  an  Englishman  and  my  mother  an  English- 
 woman." 
 
 Mr.  Collyer  published  a  volume  of  sermons  entitled  "Nature  and 
 in  1S67  ;  "  A  Man  in  Earnest :  A  Life  of  A.  H.  Conant,"  in  1868  ; 
 and  another  volume  of  sermons,  "The  Life  that  Now  Is,"  in  1871.  He 
 has  also  contributed  to  various  papers  and  magazines.  A  very  interest- 
 ing sketch  of  him,  with  illustrations,  appeared  in  "  Harper's  Monthly," 
 May.  1874  ;  and  another  may  be  found  in  "  Fraser's  Magazine." 
 
 This  broad,  genial,  hearty,  and  eloquent  Yorkshire  man  is  a  poet  by 
 nature.  All  his  sermons  and  addresses  are  full  of  poetic  beauty.  We 
 believe  he  has  written  but  few  verses.  There  is  peculiar  interest  attach- 
 ing to  the  two  hymns  which  we  copy.  The  one  was  the  first  he  ever 
 wrote,  and  was  composed  for  the  dedication  of  the  church  which  was 
 destroyed  by  fire,  and  the  other  was  written  for  the  dedication  of  the 
 new  edifice,  Dec.  7,  1S73. 
 
 DEDICATION    HYMN. 
 
 "VX7ITH  thankful  hearts,  O  God,  we  come 
 
 To  a  new  temple  built  for  thee  j 
 And  pray  that  this  may  be  our  home 
 I " ii til  we  touch  eternity  :  — 
 
 The  common  home  of  rich  and  poor, 
 Of  bond  and  free,  and  great  and  small  ; 
 
 Large  as  thy  love  for  evermore, 
 
 And  warm  and  bright  and  good  to  all. 
 
 And  dwell  thou  with  us  in  this  place, 
 
 Thou  and  thy  Christ,  to  guide  and  bless  ! 
 
 Here  make  the  wellsprings  of  thy  grace 
 Like  fountains  in  the  wilderness. 
 
 May  thy  whole  truth  be  spoken  here  ; 
 
 Thy  gospel  light  for  ever  shine  ; 
 Thy  perfect  love  cast  out  all  fear, 
 
 And  human  life  become  divine. 
 
478  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 UNITY   CHURCH. 
 
 f~\  LORD  our  God,  when  storm  and  flame 
 Hurled  homes  and  temples  into  dust, 
 We  gathered  here  to  bless  thy  name, 
 And  on  our  ruin  wrote  our  trust. 
 
 Thy  tender  pity  met  our  pain, 
 
 Swift  through  the  world  the  angel  ran, 
 
 And  then  thy  Christ  appeared  again 
 Incarnate,  in  the  heart  of  man. 
 
 Thy  lightning  lent  its  burning  wing 
 
 To  bear  his  tear-blent  sympathy, 
 And  fiery  chariots  rushed  to  bring 
 
 The  offerings  of  humanity. 
 
 Thy  tender  pity  met  our  pain  ; 
 
 Thy  love  has  raised  us  from  the  dust : 
 We  meet  to  bless  thee,  Lord,  again, 
 
 And  in  our  temple  sing  our  trust. 
 
 THOMAS   WENTWORTH    HIGGINSON. 
 
 (1823.) 
 
 Thomas  Wentworth  Higginson  was  born  at  Cambridge,  Mass., 
 Dec.  22,  1823.  He  is  a  descendant  of  Rev.  Francis  Higginson,  the  noted 
 Puritan  minister  who  came  from  England  in  1629,  and  preached  to  the 
 congregation  of  the  first  settlers  in  Salem.  He  graduated  at  Harvard 
 College  in  1841,  and  at  the  Divinity  School  in  Cambridge  in  1847  ;  was 
 settled  over  the  First  Congregational  Society  in  Newburyport  from  1847 
 to  1850,  and  was  the  pastor  of  a  Free  Church  at  Worcester  from  1852  to 
 1858.  He  has  been  from  his  earliest  manhood  an  ardent  and  active 
 friend  of  the  colored  race,  ready  not  only  to  advocate  the  rights  of  the 
 bondmen  and  the  freedmen  by  his  voice  and  pen,  but  to  make  good  his 
 words  by  the  power  of  the  musket  and  the  sword.  He  was  wounded  in 
 the  attempt  to  rescue  Anthony  Burns  from  the  kidnappers  in  Boston  in 
 
 1 
 
THOMAS   WENTWORTH  HIGGINSON.  479 
 
 1S54,  and  was  indicted  with  Parker,  Phillips,  and  others  who  were  im- 
 plicated in  the  same  affair.  He  aided  in  the  organization  of  bands  of 
 emigrants  from  the  North  to  colonize  Kanzas  in  1856,  and  was  a  briga- 
 dier-general on  "  Jim  "  Lane's  staff  in  the  military  forces  raised  to  repel 
 the  aggressions  of  the  slave  power  upon  that  State.  Having  laid  aside 
 the  clerical  profession  before  the  war  broke  out,  he  entered  into  actual 
 service  during  the  conflict,  and  was  appointed  colonel  of  the  first  regi- 
 ment of  black  troops  raised  in  South  Carolina.  In  October,  1864,  he 
 was  discharged  in  consequence  of  disability  arising  from  a  wound  he 
 received  in  an  engagement  on  the  Edisto  River.  Mr.  Higginson  now 
 resides  in  Newport,  R.I.,  where  he  is  engaged  in  literary  pursuits. 
 
 He  has  long  been  known  as  a  prominent  contributor  to  the  "Atlantic 
 Monthly."  His  admirable  and  well-known  "Out-door  Papers,"  written 
 for  this  magazine,  were  afterward  collected  in  a  volume  and  published 
 in  1S63.  "  Malbone,"  an  Oldport  Romance,  also  reprinted  from  the 
 "Atlantic,"  appeared  in  1S69;  "Army  Life  in  a  Black  Regiment,"  in 
 1S70  ;  and  another  volume  of  "  Atlantic  Essays,"  in  1871.  He  published 
 a  translation  of  "Epictetus"  in  1865;  and  a  French  translation  of  his 
 .  on  the  "Greek  Goddesses"  appeared  in  the  Paris  "Revue  Bri- 
 tannique,"  October,  1S69.  He  has  also  edited  the  Harvard  Memorial 
 Biographies,  in  two  volumes,  being  sketches  of  the  lives  of  the  graduates 
 of  the  College  who  fell  in  the  late  war.  Among  the  papers  and  periodi- 
 cals to  which  he  has  contributed  are  the  "New  York  Independent,"  the 
 "New  York  Tribune,"  the  Boston  "Woman's  Journal,"  and  "MacMil- 
 lan's  London  Magazine."  Mr.  Higginson's  writings  are  marked  by  a 
 wonderful  freshness  and  vigor  of  thought,  and  are  distinguished  for  the 
 purity  and  beauty  of  their  style. 
 
 The  hvmns  and  poems  which  he  has  composed  are  few  in  number, 
 but  they  are  of  a  very  high  order.  We  believe  that  quite  all  of  them 
 are  presented  here. 
 
 A   HYMN. 
 
 Written  for  the  Graduating  Class,  Cambridge  Theological  School,  1847. 
 
 HPO  veil  thy  truth  by  darkening  or  by  hiding  ; 
 
 To  stand  irresolute,  or  shrink  appalled  ; 
 To  deal  vague  words  of  customary  chiding  j 
 
 Father  !   to  no  such  work  thy  voice  hath  called. 
 
 Our  eyes  are  dim,  yet  can  we  seek  the  duty  ; 
 
 Our  ears  are  dull,  yet  can  we  shun  the  wrong ; 
 'Tis  not  in  vain  that  here,  amid  the  beauty 
 
 Of  thy  deep  teachings,  we  have  stayed  so  long. 
 
480  SONGS  OF   THE  LIBERAL   FAITH. 
 
 Some  wounds  have  turned  to  pearls  ;  some  limbs  offending 
 We  have  had  strength  to  seize  and  rend  away ; 
 
 Some  passionate  earthly  songs  have  changed,  in  ending, 
 To  choral  anthem  and  triumphant  lay. 
 
 To  build  of  gentle  hearts  thy  church,  the  peerless, 
 To  speak  the  truth  in  love,  whate'er  befalls, 
 
 To  make  our  brothers  humble,  tireless,  fearless, 
 This  is  the  work  to  which  thy  Spirit  calls. 
 
 Some  seeds  we  sow  may  blossom  into  flowers, 
 And  those  bear  fruit,  to  ripen  'neath  thy  sun  ; 
 
 And  thou  wilt  lead  these  trembling  hearts  of  ours 
 On  to  that  peace  where  aim  and  deed  grow  one. 
 
 The  next  four  pieces  are  from  the  "  Book  of  Hymns."  The  first  has 
 been  highly  commended  by  eminent  men  as  the  best  statement  they  have 
 seen  of  the  way  in  which  the  subject  to  which  it  relates  stood  to  their 
 own  minds.  The  second  was  not,  like  the  rest,  inserted  in  the  "  Hymns 
 of  the  Spirit,"  probably  because  the  national  evil  to  which  it  refers  had 
 become  well-nigh  a  thing  of  the  past.  We  give  it  a  place  here,  with  the 
 others,  that  our  collection  of  Mr.  Higginson's  hymns  may  be  as  com- 
 plete as  we  can  make  it. 
 
 THE   MYSTERY   OF   GOD. 
 
 "VTO  human  eyes  thy  face  may  see  ; 
 
 No  human  thought  thy  form  may  know ; 
 But  all  creation  dwells  in  thee, 
 
 And  thy  great  life  through  all  doth  flow  ! 
 
 And  yet,  O  strange  and  wondrous  thought ! 
 
 Thou  art  a  God  who  hearest  prayer, 
 And  every  heart  with  sorrow  fraught 
 
 To  seek  thy  present  aid  may  dare. 
 
 And  though  most  weak  our  efforts  seem 
 Into  one  creed  these  thoughts  to  bind, 
 
 And  vain  the  intellectual  dream 
 To  see  and  know  the  Eternal  Mind,  — 
 
THOMAS   WENTWORTH  HIGGINSON.         481 
 
 Yet  thou  wilt  turn  them  not  aside, 
 
 Who  cannot  solve  thy  life  divine, 
 But  would  give  up  all  reason's  pride 
 
 To  know  their  hearts  approved  by  thine. 
 
 And  thine  unceasing  love  gave  birth 
 
 To  our  dear  Lord,  thy  holy  Son, 
 Who  left  a  perfect  proof  on  earth 
 
 That  Duty,  Love,  and  Truth  are  one. 
 
 So,  though  we  faint  on  life's  dark  hill. 
 
 And  Thought  grow  weak,  and  Knowledge  flee, 
 
 Yet  Faith  shall  teach  us  courage  still, 
 And  Love  shall  guide  us  on  to  thee  ! 
 
 THE    NATION'S    SIN. 
 
 'T^HE  land  our  fathers  left  to  us 
 
 Is  foul  with  hateful  sin  : 
 When  shall,  O  Lord,  this  sorrow  end, 
 And  hope  and  joy  begin? 
 
 What  good,  though  growing  might  and  wealth 
 Shall  stretch  from  shore  to  shore, 
 
 If  thus  the  fatal  poison-taint 
 Be  only  spread  the  more  ? 
 
 Wipe  out,  O  God,  the  nation's  sin, 
 
 Then  .swell  the  nation's  power  ; 
 But  build  not  high  our  yearning  hopes, 
 
 To  wither  in  an  hour  '. 
 
 No  outward  show  nor  fancied  strength 
 
 From  thy  stern  justice  saves  ; 
 There  is  no  liberty  for  them 
 
 Who  make  their  brethren  slaves! 
 
 3> 
 
482  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 THE    HOPE    OF    MAN. 
 
 ^FHE  Past  is  dark  with  sin  and  shame, 
 
 The  Future  dim  with  doubt  and  fear ; 
 But,  Father,  yet  we  praise  thy  name, 
 Whose  guardian  love  is  always  near. 
 
 For  man  has  striven,  ages  long, 
 
 With  faltering  steps  to  come  to  thee, 
 
 And  in  each  purpose  high  and  strong 
 The  influence  of  thy  grace  could  see. 
 
 He  could  not  breathe  an  earnest  prayer, 
 
 But  thou  wast  kinder  than  he  dreamed ; 
 As  age  by  age  brought  hopes  more  fair, 
 A  And  nearer  still  thy  kingdom  seemed. 
 
 But  never  rose  within  his  breast 
 A  trust  so  calm  and  deep  as  now ; 
 
 Shall  not  the  weary  find  a  rest  ? 
 Father,  Preserver,  answer  thou  ! 
 
 'Tis  dark  around,  'tis  dark  above, 
 
 But  through  the  shadow  streams  the  sun  ; 
 
 We  cannot  doubt  thy  certain  love ; 
 And  man's  true  aim  shall  yet  be  won  ! 
 
 I    WILL   ARISE,    AND    GO    TO    MY   FATHER. 
 
 /T^O  thine  eternal  arms,  O  God, 
 
 Take  us,  thine  erring  children,  in  ; 
 From  dangerous  paths  too  boldly  trod, 
 
 From  wandering  thoughts  and  dreams  of  sin. 
 
 Those  arms  were  round  our  childish  ways, 
 A  guard  through  helpless  years  to  be  ; 
 
 O,  leave  not  our  maturer  days, 
 
 We  still  are  helpless  without  thee  ! 
 
THOMAS  WENTWORTH  HIGGINSON.  4^3 
 
 We  trusted  hope  and  pride  and  strength  ; 
 
 Our  strength  proved  false,  our  pride  was  vain, 
 Our  dreams  have  faded  all  at  length, — 
 
 We  come  to  thee,  O  Lord,  again  ! 
 
 A  guide  to  trembling  steps  yet  be  ! 
 
 Give  us  of  thine  eternal  powers  ! 
 So  shall  our  paths  all  lead  to  thee, 
 
 And  life  smile  on,  like  childhood's  hours. 
 
 The  following  is  from  Scribner's  Monthly,  June,  1S74  :  — 
 DECORATION. 
 
 "  Minibus  date  lilia  plenis." 
 
 'A  riD  the  flower-wreathed  tombs  I  stand, 
 ^         Bearing  lilies  in  my  hand. 
 Comrades  !  in  what  soldier-grave 
 Sleeps  the  bravest  of  the  brave  ? 
 
 Is  it  he  who  sank  to  rest 
 With  his  colors  round  his  breast? 
 Friendship  makes  his  tomb  a  shrine ; 
 Garlands  veil  it ;  ask  not  mine. 
 
 One  low  grave,  yon  trees  beneath, 
 Bears  no  roses,  wears  no  wreath  ; 
 Yet  no  heart  more  high  and  warm 
 Ever  dared  the  battle-storm. 
 
 Never  gleamed  a  prouder  eye 
 In  the  front  of  victory  ; 
 Never  foot  had  firmer  tread 
 On  the  field  where  hope  lay  dead, 
 
 Than  arejiid  within  this  tomb, 
 Where  the  untended  grasses  bloom  ; 
 And  no  stone,  with  feigned  distress, 
 Mocks  the  sacred  loneliness. 
 
4§4  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 Youth  and  beauty,  dauntless  will, 
 Dreams  that  life  could  ne'er  fulfil, 
 Here  lie  buried,  —  here  in  peace 
 Wrongs  and  woes  have  found  release. 
 
 Turning  from  my  comrades'  eyes, 
 Kneeling  where  a  woman  lies, 
 I  strew  lilies  on  the  grave 
 Of  the  bravest  of  the  brave. 
 
 Newport,  R.I.,  Decoration  Day,  1873. 
 
 FRANCES    M.    CHESBRO. 
 
 (1824.) 
 
 Mrs.  Frances  M.  Chesbro  was  born  in  Warwick,  Mass.,  July  13, 
 1824,  her  parents  being  Amory  and  Sophronia  Mayo,  prominent  mem- 
 bers of  the  Unitarian  Church  in  that  town.  Here  and  at  Deerfield 
 Academy  she  received  her  early  education,  and  when  she  was  only  six- 
 teen she  began  to  teach  district  schools.  At  twenty,  she  was  married  to 
 George  L.  Chesbro,  who,  like  her  father,  was  engaged  in  mercantile  busi- 
 ness. About  this  time  she  became  acquainted  with  the  gifted  authoress, 
 Miss  Sarah  C.  Edgarton,  who  afterward  became  the  wife  of  her  brother, 
 Rev.  A.  D.  Mayo,  now  of  Springfield,  Mass.,  and  at  whose  suggestion 
 she  began  to  contribute  to  various  magazines  and  papers,  some  of  which 
 Miss  Edgarton  herself  either  edited  or  wrote  for.  The  family  removed 
 at  length  to  Gloucester,  where  Rev.  Mr.  Mayo  was  then  the  pastor  of  a 
 Universalist  Church,  and  where,  after  the  sudden  death  of  his  accom- 
 plished wife,  on  the  9th  of  July,  1848,  they  were  gathered  with  him  under 
 the  same  roof.  Here  Mrs.  Chesbro  had  the  advantage  of  her  brother's 
 library,  and  continued  to  write  for  the  periodicals,  many  of  her  contribu- 
 tions being  sketches  of  character  drawn  from  life.  In  1858  she  published 
 a  story-book  for  children,  "  Smiles  and  Tears,"  which  she  wrote  mainly 
 to  weave  into  a  pleasant  story  for  her  little  daughter  some  of  the  events 
 of  her  own  early  days  in  the  country.  Since  then,  she  has  sent  numerous 
 hymns  and  poems  to  the  "Liberal  Christian  "  and  other  Unitarian  publi- 
 cations, so  far  as  her  busy  domestic  life  has  permitted  her  to  compose 
 them.  She  now  resides  at  Northboro',  Mass.,  whither  the  family  re- 
 moved in  1866,  and  where  she  is  an  active  member  of  the  society  which 
 was  so  long  under  the  care  of  the  venerated  Rev.  Joseph  Allen,  D.D. 
 
FRANCES  AT.   CHESBRO.  485 
 
 Among  her  offerings  are  various  hymns  written  for  church  anniversaries 
 and  occasional  public  services.  Such  pieces  as  we  lure  cull  from  the 
 books  and  the  papers  evince  no  small  degree  of  poetic  feeling  and  taste 
 in  their  author. 
 
 The  first  is  from  the  "Ladies'  Repository,"  whose  editor,  in  copying 
 it  from  an  old  number  of  "  Peterson's  Magazine,"  says  :  "  We  transfer  it 
 to  our  pages,  not  only  for  its  grace  and  beauty,  but  also  for  its  allusion  to 
 one  whom  none  knew  but  to  love.  Many  who  read  it  will  recall  a  grace- 
 ful and  beautiful  girl,  whose  thoughtful  face  and  rare,  expressive  words 
 an  earnest  of  a  lovely  and  useful  life,  but  not  here  was  to  be  its 
 completeness.     A  sister's  heart  speaks  in  this  delicate  tribute." 
 
 A    MEMORY. 
 
 TX  the  golden  summer  morning, 
 
 In  the  rosy  blush  of  dawn, 
 Sits  a  robin  in  the  casement, 
 
 Singing  softly  in  the  morn. 
 Her  sweet  warbling  wakes  my  slumber, 
 
 Breaks  the  tissue  web  of  sleep, 
 Drives  away  my  dream  of  loved  ones, 
 
 Scatters  visions  wild  and  sweet. 
 
 Softly  o'er  my  wakened  senses 
 Steals  the  thought  of  olden  time, 
 
 When  the  robin's  matin  music 
 
 Thrilled  another  heart  than  mine  ! 
 
 She  so  lovely,  she  so  gentle, 
 
 ■     Sharing  all  my  joy  and  pain, 
 
 Lying  on  the  pillow  'side  me, 
 
 Softly  breathing,  heard  the  same. 
 
 Heard  the  same  sweet  bird-tones  warbling, 
 
 Singing  in  the  rosy  dawn  : 
 Now  the  robin  sings  more  softly, 
 
 Sweet,  but  sad,  she  sings  forlorn. 
 Oh,  my  songstress  !  my  sweet  warbler  I 
 
 ring  into  heaven's  pure  air, 
 Take  one  message,  bear  it  upward,  — 
 
 Upward  to  her  home  so  fair  ! 
 
486  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 Tell  her  that  the  love  she  bore  me 
 
 Lifts  me  over  earthly  care  ; 
 Tell  her  that  in  dreams  beside  me 
 
 Still  I  see  her  golden  hair, 
 Gleaming  in  the  morning  sunlight 
 
 As  it  streams  my  casement  through,  — 
 Through  the  casement  where  the  robin 
 
 Sings  amid  the  morning  dew. 
 
 As  the  softly  whispering  breezes 
 
 Touch  the  quivering  jessamine  vine, 
 Still  the  dear  voice  that  it  murmurs 
 
 Is  thine  ever,  ever  thine  ! 
 Bird  and  flower  and  trembling  leaflet 
 
 Lost  an  echo  to  their  lay, 
 When  from  out  this  curtained  chamber 
 
 Passed  an  angel  soul  away. 
 
 HYMN    OF    PEACE. 
 
 From  the  "  Liberal  Christian." 
 
 TTOW  sweet,  dear  Lord,  to  rest 
 Beneath  thy  sheltering  arm, 
 Encircled  by  thy  love, 
 
 Secure  from  every  harm  \ 
 To  lay  .the  burden  down, 
 
 To  drop  the  weary  load  ; 
 To  ease  the  trembling  feet, 
 
 Worn  on  the  thorny  road. 
 
 How  sweet,  dear  Lord,  to  rest 
 
 Upon  the  mountain  side  ; 
 To  put  the  armor  by, 
 
 And  in  thy  smile  abide  ; 
 To  see  beneath  our  feet, 
 
 In  clearest  vision  spread, 
 The  narrow  devious  paths 
 
 That  to  our  mount  have  led  : 
 
FRANCES  J/.    CHESBRO.  4$7 
 
 To  lie  within  thine  arms 
 
 In  quiet,  peaceful  re 
 To  feel  no  throb  of  pain, 
 
 Serenely,  calmly  blest, 
 As  little  children  make 
 
 A  pause  amid  their  play, 
 And  fly  to  loving  arms 
 
 Ere  close  of  summer  day. 
 
 And  then,  with  strength  renewed, 
 
 How  sweet,  dear  Lord,  to  rise 
 And  view  the  upward  path. 
 
 With  brighter,  clearer  ey 
 To  raise  the  heavy  weight 
 
 Of  daily  toil  and  care, 
 And  with  a  freer  step 
 
 Rise  into  fresher  air. 
 
 The  drooping  arms  we  raise, 
 
 The  weary  limbs  grow  strong, 
 The  murmur  on  our  lips 
 
 We  change  to  grateful  song  j 
 We  smile  upon  the  load 
 
 So  heavy,  now  so  light ; 
 The  clouds  have  rolled  away, 
 
 The  clay  succeeds  the  night. 
 
 N     joy  like  this  we  kn 
 
 r  Lord,  to  do  thy  will  ; 
 Be  it  of  grief  or  j 
 
 Our  bliss  and  duty  still. 
 II    v  easy  now  and  sweet 
 
 To  suffer,  toil,  and  bear 
 u  All  needful  discipline," 
 
 Since  our  dear  Lord  is  there. 
 
488  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 UNDER   THE   SNOW. 
 
 From  Rev.  O.  B.  Frothingham' s  "  Child's  Book  of  Religion." 
 
 T  TNDER  the  snow  the  violets  are  budding, 
 
 Nurtured  and  cherished  within  the  warm  earth  ; 
 Rich  fragrance  imbibing,  while  patiently  waiting 
 
 The  word  of  command  that  shall  wake  them  to  birth. 
 
 Under  the  snow  the  streamlets  are  sleeping, 
 Lulled  is  the  voice  of  their  murmuring  flow  ; 
 
 Their  rest  is  not  death,  but  life  is  renewing, 
 
 While  Spring's  brightest  promise  is  ice-bound  below. 
 
 Under  the  snow  !  oh,  under  the  snow  ! 
 
 Earth  sleeps  but  to  waken,  and  rests  but  to  rise  ; 
 And  silently  toils  in  her  storehouse  below, 
 
 Adding  tint  to  the  floweret,  and  splendor  to  skies. 
 
 Under  the  snow,  the  beautiful  snow, 
 
 Rests  all  the  fair  future  of  promise  and  bloom  ; 
 
 The  bud  and  the  blossom,  the  summer's  bright  glow, 
 The  autumn's  full  fruitage,  the  winter's  rich  boon. 
 
 Under  the  snow  !  ah,  under  the  snow  ! 
 
 Lie  buried  the  hopes  of  the  sorrowing  heart ; 
 Wailing  and  sad  the  winds  over  them  blow, 
 
 While,  weeping,  they  watch  the  dear  promise  depart. 
 
 Oh,  hear  we  not  murmuring  voices  below, 
 
 When  we  hopefully  listen,  and  patiently  wait,  — 
 
 The  hurrying  of  unseen  feet,  that  go 
 
 On  errands  of  love  for  humanity's  sake  ? 
 
 Hear  we  the  beating,  the  stir,  and  the  strife 
 Of  forces  that  slumber  by  night  nor  by  day, 
 
 Abiding  their  time,  when,  bursting  with  life, 
 They  scatter  their  icy  fetters  away  ? 
 
 Though  under  the  snow,  deep  under  the  snow, 
 Lie  hearts  all  despairing  in  sadness  and  gloom, 
 
 The  soft  breath  Of  spring-time  will  over  them  blow, 
 And  the  pale  bud  of  hope  into  rich  beauty  bloom. 
 
ALBERT  LAIGHTON,  4$9 
 
 ALBERT    LAIGHTON. 
 (1829.) 
 
 IT  LAIGHTON  was  bom  at  Portsmouth,  N.H.,  Jan.  8,  1S29. 
 His  parents  were  John  Laighton  and  Mary  Damrell  Laighton.  lie  was 
 educated  at  a  private  school  in  his  native  town,  where  he  has  continued 
 side,  and  where  he  is  employed  as  the  teller  of  a  bank.  He  has 
 been  twice  married,  his  second  wile  living  now.  In  1S59  he  published  a 
 volume  01  Selections  from  its  pages  very  deservedly  occupy 
 
 a  prominent  place  in  the  compilation  entitled  "  Poets  of  Portsmouth." 
 Among  his  later  productions  may  be  mentioned  a  beautiful  "  Ode  of 
 Welcome,"  written  for  the  reunion  of  the  sons  and  daughters  of  Ports- 
 mouth, July  4,  1S73,  and  a  sonnet  entitled  "  After  Bloom,"  which  was  sent 
 to  the  "  Atlantic  Monthly  "  in  1S74.  Most  of  those  which  we  copy  are 
 from  the  volume  of  1S59.  Mr.  Laighton  enjoys  the  warm  friendship  of 
 not  a  few  of  our  best  American  poets ;  and  letters  from  those  who  have 
 known  him  long  and  well,  bear  witness  that  the  fine  spirit  that  breathes 
 through  his  graceful  verses  is  only  the  natural  outflow  from  his  own 
 "sweetness  of  character." 
 
 TO     MY    SOUL. 
 
 /^  UEST  from  a  holier  world, 
 
 Oh,  tell  me  where  the  peaceful  valleys  lie  ! 
 Dove  in  the  ark  of  life,  when  thou  shalt  fly, 
 Where  will  thy  wings  be  furled  ? 
 
 Where  is  thy  native  nest  ? 
 Where  the  green  pastures  that  the  blessed  roam  ? 
 Impatient  dweller  in  thy  clay-built  home, 
 
 Where  is  thy  heavenly  rest? 
 
 On  some  immortal  sh 
 Some  realm  away  from  earth  and  time,  I  know,  — 
 A  '.and  of  bloom,  where  living  waters  How, 
 
 And  grief  comes  nevermore. 
 
 ith  turns  my  eyes  above  j 
 Day  fills  with  floods  of  light  the  boundless  skies  ; 
 Night  watches  calmly  with  her  starry  < 
 All  tremulous  with  love. 
 
49°  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 And,  as  entranced  I  gaze, 
 Sweet  music  floats  to  me  from  distant  lyres  : 
 I  see  a  temple,  round  whose  golden  spires 
 
 Unearthly  glory  plays ! 
 
 Beyond  those  azure  deeps 
 I  fix  thy  home,  —  a  mansion  kept  for  thee 
 Within  the  Father's  house,  whose  noiseless  key, 
 
 Kind  Death,  the  warder,  keeps  ! 
 
 NEW   ENGLAND.       * 
 
 "Y17HAT  though  they  boast  of  fairer  lands, 
 Give  me  New  England's  hallowed  soil, 
 The  fearless  hearts,  the  swarthy  hands 
 Stamped  with  the  heraldry  of  toil. 
 
 I  love  her  valleys  broad  and  fair, 
 
 The  pathless  wood,  the  gleaming  lake, 
 
 The  bold  and  rocky  bastions  where 
 The  billows  of  the  ocean  break  ! 
 
 The  grandeur  of  each  mountain-peak 
 That  rears  to  heaven  its  granite-form ; 
 
 The  craggy  cliffs  where  eagles  shriek 
 Amid  the  thunder  and  the  storm. 
 
 And  dear  to  me  each  noble  deed 
 Wrought  by  the  iron  wills  of  yore,  — 
 
 The  pilgrim-hands  that  sowed  the  seed 
 Of  Freedom  on  her  sterile  shore. 
 
 THE    MIDNIGHT   VOICE. 
 
 "RATHER,  at  this  calm  hour, 
 
 Alone,  in  prayer  I  bend  an  humble  knee ! 
 My  soul  in  silence  wings  its  flight  to  thee, 
 And  owns  thy  boundless  power. 
 
ALBERT  LAIGIITOX.       '  491 
 
 Day's  weary  toil  is  o'er  ; 
 No  worldly  strife  my  heartfelt  worship  mars; 
 Beneath  the  mystery  of  the  silent  stars, 
 
 I  tremble  and  adore. 
 
 Not  when  the  frenzied  storm 
 Writhes  'mid  the  darkness,  till  in  wild  despair, 
 Bursting  its  thunder-chains,  the  lightning's  glare 
 
 Reveals  its  awful  form,  — 
 
 1  wait  not  for  that  hour : 
 In  flower  and  dew,  in  sunshine  calm  and  free, 
 I  hear  a  still  small  voice  that  speaks  of  thee 
 
 With  holier,  deeper  power. 
 
 Above  the  thunder-notes, 
 Serene  and  clear,  the  music  of  the  spheres 
 For  ever  rolls,  though  not  to  mortal  ears 
 
 The  heavenly  cadence  floats. 
 
 TO   A   BIGOT. 
 
 "V7DU  strove  in  vain  with  cunning  words 
 
 And  subtle  arguments  to  gain 
 A  convert  to  your  darling  creed  ; 
 
 Then  mocked  me  with  your  cold  disdain. 
 
 Ah,  well,  sip  from  your  shallow  fount ! 
 
 The  heart  hath  depths  you  may  not  know  ; 
 And  your  philosophy  would  fail, 
 
 Did  you  but  judge  of  nature  so. 
 
 You  do  not  hate  the  mountain-stream 
 Because  it  floweth  wild  and  free 
 
 In  hidden  channels  of  its  own, 
 
 And  finds  at  last  its  home,  —  the  sea. 
 
 You  do  not  crush  the  wayside  flower 
 Because  it  wears  a  different  hue 
 
 From  that  which  decks  your  garden-walks, 
 And  only  breathes  its  sweets  for  you. 
 
492  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 You  do  not  wound  the  forest-bird 
 Because  your  caged  canary  sings 
 
 A  sweeter  song.     You  vainly  think,  — 
 Give  me  the  freedom  of  my  wings. 
 
 Then  if  I  soar  beyond  your  flights, 
 Or  if  I  keep  my  lowly  nest, 
 
 What  matter,  since  I  am  content 
 To  serve  my  God  as  seemeth  best  ? 
 
 THE   VEILED    GRIEF. 
 
 /^H,  think  not  that  my  eyes  are  dry, 
 
 Because  you  mark  no  falling  tears  : 
 There  flows  a  river  deep  and  dark, 
 Whose  waters  ebb  not  with  the  years. 
 
 And  think  not  that  my  lips  are  mute, 
 Because  you  hear  no  spoken  word 
 
 Full-freighted  with  the  tones  of  grief : 
 I  hear  a  voice  you  never  heard. 
 
 And  think  not  that  my  heart  is  cold, 
 Because  no  passion  fires  my  breast : 
 
 There  is  a  chamber  in  my  soul 
 That  only  owns  an  angel-guest. 
 
 My  tears  fall  inward  on  my  heart, 
 
 And,  dew-like,  keep  its  memories  green  ; 
 
 Sad  strains  unheard  by  other  ears 
 Break  forth  for  me  from  lips  unseen. 
 
 A   HYMN    OF    CONFESSION. 
 
 'T^HE  homeless  winds  that  wander  o'er  the  land  ; 
 
 The  deep-voiced  thunder  speaking  words  of  fire  ; 
 The  waves  that  break  in  sunshine  on  the  strand, 
 Or  smite  with  storm-paled  hands  their  rocky  lyre ; 
 
ALBERT  LAIC,  II I  OX.  4Q3 
 
 The  stars  that  blossom  in  the  fields  of  night ; 
 
 The  buds  that  burst  in  beauty  from  the  sod  ; 
 The  birds  that  dip  their  wings  in  rainbow  light, — 
 
 Are  notes  in  Nature's  symphony  to  God! 
 
 But  as  Creation's  anthem  onward  rolls, 
 
 From  age  to  age,  in  grandeur  still  the  same, 
 
 We  set  the  seal  of  silence  on  our  souls, 
 And  sing  no  praises  to  his  holy  name. 
 
 Our  eyes  are  dazzled  by  the  glare  of  Life  ; 
 
 We  cannot  see  the  sapphire-deeps  above  ; 
 Our  ears  are  deafened  by  its  ceaseless  strife  ; 
 
 We  cannot  hear  the  angels'  songs  of  Love. 
 
 Dust  gathers  on  our  mantles  hour  by  hour  ; 
 
 We  trail  our  robes  in  low  and  sensual  things  ; 
 We  yield  our  heart-wealth  to  the  Tempter's  power, 
 
 And  stain  the  whiteness  of  the  spirit's  wings. 
 
 We  fling  the  priceless  pearl  of  Faith  away, 
 
 And  count  as  treasure  earth's  corroding  dross  ; 
 
 We  bow  to  idols  formed  of  fragile  clay, 
 
 But  twine  few  garlands  for  the  Saviour's  cross. 
 
 DEDICATION    HYMN. 
 
 r\  FATHER,  as  in  days  of  old, 
 
 When  men  knew  not  thy  wondrous  love, 
 And  bowed  to  gods  of  wood  and  gold, 
 
 Thou  rulest  on  thy  throne  above  ; 
 Thou  art  the  same  unchanging  Friend, 
 And  thy  almighty  arms  defend. 
 
 Thy  hand  still  guides  each  rolling  world, 
 
 1  stays  the  tempest's  awful  wrath, 
 And  on  the  bannered  clouds  unfurled 
 
 Marks  out  the  lightning's  lurid  path  ; 
 It  weighs  the  mountains,  holds  the  sea, 
 And  stretches  through  Infinity. 
 
494  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 Ah,  little  human  hands  can  do 
 
 When  measured  by  the  matchless  power 
 
 That  raised  the  hills,  and  arched  the  blue 
 Wide  heavens,  that  bless  us  every  hour ; 
 
 That  made  our  frames,  sustains  our  lives, 
 
 And  through  all  earthly  change  survives. 
 
 Yet,  Lord,  we  offer  to  thee  now 
 
 This  temple  built  on  hallowed  ground  ; 
 
 Oh,  bless  its  walls  !  for,  while  we  bow, 
 The  sainted  dead  seem  lingering  round, 
 
 As  if  with  us  they  hither  came, 
 
 To  own  this  tribute  to  thy  name. 
 
 THE    TWO   WORLDS. 
 
 'TPHIS  world  is  bright  and  fair,  we  know ; 
 
 The  skies  are  arched  in  glory  ; 
 The  stars  shine  on,  the  sweet  flowers  blow, 
 And  tell  their  blessed  story. 
 
 But  softer  than  the  summer's  breath, 
 
 And  fairer  than  its  roses, 
 Will  be  the  clime  afar,  when  Death 
 
 The  pearly  gate  uncloses  ; 
 
 The  land  where  broken  ties  shall  twine, 
 
 And  fond  hearts  will  not  sever, 
 Where  Love's  pure  light  shall  brighter  shine, 
 
 For  ever  and  for  ever ! 
 
 The  foregoing  selections  are  from  Mr.  Laighton's  volume  of  "  Poems." 
 The  following  pieces  have  been  found  elsewhere.  The  first  of  these 
 latter  is  from  the  order  of  exercises  in  Rev.  Dr.  A.  P.  Peabody's  pub- 
 lished sermon,  delivered  at  the  closing  of  the  Sunday  School  Room  on 
 Court  Street,  Portsmouth,  Feb.  15,  1857. 
 
ALBERT  LAIGHTOX.  495 
 
 ODE. 
 
 HP  HE  everlasting  mountains  stand, 
 
 Upheld  by  power  divine ; 
 And,  guided  by  the  Eternal  hand, 
 The  rolling  planets  shine. 
 
 For  ever  in  majestic  rhyme, 
 
 The  waves  of  ocean  flow  ; 
 And  changeless,  like  the  pulse  of  Time, 
 
 The  ages  come  and  go. 
 
 But,  Lord,  our  being  is  a  span,  — 
 
 A  breath  that  floats  away  ; 
 And  proudest  structures  reared  by  man 
 
 Soon  moulder  and  decay. 
 
 Yet  as  within  these  crumbling  walls 
 
 A  parting  hymn  we  raise, 
 How  like  a  benediction  falls 
 
 The  thought  of  vanished  days ! 
 
 O,  as  we  mark  the  falling  sands, 
 No  tears  should  dim  our  eyes  ! 
 
 We  have  a  house  not  made  with  hands, 
 Eternal  in  the  skies. 
 
 UNDER   THE    LEAVES. 
 
 Copied  from  the  "  Poets  of  Portsmouth,"  in  which  some  of  th?  previous  pieces  are  also 
 to  be  found. 
 
 /^\FT  have  I  walked  these  woodland  paths 
 
 In  sadness,  not  foreknowing 
 That  underneath  the  withered  leaves 
 The  flowers  of  spring  were  growing. 
 
496  SOArGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL   FAITH. 
 
 To-day  the  winds  have  swept  away 
 Those  wrecks  of  autumn's  splendor  ■ 
 
 And  here  the  sweet  arbutus-flowers 
 Are  springing  fresh  and  tender. 
 
 O  prophet  flowers  !  with  lips  of  bloom, 
 
 Surpassing  in  their  beauty 
 The  pearly  tints  of  ocean's  shells,  — 
 
 To  teach  me  faith  and  duty. 
 
 Walk  life's  dark  ways,  ye  seem  to  say, 
 In  love  and  hope  ;  foreknowing 
 
 That  where  man  sees  but  withered  leaves, 
 God  sees  the  fair  flowers  growing. 
 
 TRUST    IN    THE    SAVIOUR. 
 
 C  AVI  OUR,  when  the  loved  depart, 
 
 And  the  tears  of  sorrow  flow  ; 
 When  the  bruised  and  bleeding  heart 
 
 Sinks  with  weariness  and  woe,  — 
 Let  me  feel  thine  arm  beneath, 
 
 As  I  weep  above  their  dust ; 
 Teach  my  murmuring  lips  to  breathe, 
 
 "  In  the  Lord  I  put  my  trust." 
 
 When  for  me  the  shadow  falls, 
 
 And  all  earthly  glories  fade, 
 When  the  voice  of  Jesus  calls, 
 
 "  Trembling  soul,  be  not  afraid  !  "  — ■ 
 May  I  near  the  vale  of  death, 
 
 O  thou  Holy  One  and  Just, 
 Whispering  with  my  latest  breath, 
 
 "  In  the  Lord  I  put  my  trust." 
 
MARTHA    PERRY  LOWE.  497 
 
 MARTHA    PERRY    LOWE. 
 (1829.) 
 
 Mrs.  Martha  Perry  Lowe  was  horn  at  Keene,  N.H.,  Nov.  21,  1829. 
 Her  maiden  name  was  Martha  A.  Perry.  Her  parents,  Justus  and  Han- 
 nah (Wood)  Perry,  both  died  when  she  was  about  thirteen  years  of  age. 
 A  few  years  later  a  sister  and  brother  were  also  taken  from  her  by  death. 
 Soon  after  these  repeated  trials  and  sorrows,  she  accompanied  her 
 remaining  brother  and  sister  to  the  West  Indies,  where  together  they 
 passed  a  winter.  Subsequently  she  went  to  Europe  with  her  sister,  and 
 spent  several  months  in  Spain  where  her  brother  was  serving  as  Secre- 
 tary of  Legation.  She  was  married,  Sept.  16,  1S57,  to  Rev.  Charles 
 Lowe,  whose  pure  and  lovely  character,  strong  Christian  faith  and  saintly 
 spirit,  and  earnest  and  indefatigable  labors  as  the  minister  of  several  of 
 the  Unitarian  churches,  as  Secretary  of  the  Unitarian  Association,  and 
 finally  as  editor  of  the  "  Unitarian  Review,"  have  embalmed  him  for  ever 
 in  the  grateful  and  affectionate  remembrance  of  the  communion  from 
 which  he  has  so  recently  been  called  to  the  higher  service.  Not  long 
 after  her  marriage,  Mrs.  Lowe  published  a  volume  of  poems,  entitled 
 '•  The  Olive  and  the  Pine,"  the  words  being  typical  of  scenes  in  Spain 
 and  New  England,  which  she  contrasted  in  her  verses.  Several  years 
 afterward  she  published  a  second  volume,  "  Love  in  Spain,  and  other 
 Poems,"  containing  a  lyric  drama  of  diplomatic  and  social  life  in  that 
 country,  and  also  some  pieces  that  had  appeared  from  time  to  time  dur- 
 ing the  late  war  in  our  own  land.  In  1S71  she  accompanied  her  husband 
 and  two  children  to  Europe,  where  she  corresponded  regularly  with  the 
 "  Liberal  Christian,"  on  subjects  that  were  connected  with  the  advance- 
 ment of  a  broader  religious  faith  in  the  Old  World.  She  returned  to 
 America  with  her  family  in  1S73,  an<^  now  resides  in  Somerville,  Mass., 
 where  she  has  had  her  home  for  the  last  fifteen  years,  or  since  her  hus- 
 band was  settled  over  the  Unitarian  Church  there  in  1S59.  The  follow- 
 ing are  a  few  of  her  briefer  pieces. 
 
 SONG    OF    DAVID. 
 
 TT(  )\V  good  it  is  in  love  and  peace  to  dwell  ! 
 
 'Tis  like  the  perfume  on  young  Aaron's  head, 
 That  sweetened  all  his  garments  with  the  smell, 
 When  he  the  prayers  of  Clod's  own  people  led. 
 32 
 
498  SOA7GS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 'Tis  like  the  dew  from  Hermon's  valleys  fair, 
 That  riseth  unto  Zion's  sacred  hill, 
 
 And  falleth  in  perennial  freshness  there, 
 
 While  all  the  flowers  their  balmy  breath  distil. 
 
 The  Lord  hath  promised  from  his  throne  above 
 The  highest  blessing  which  he  hath  in  store, 
 
 To  his  dear  children,  who  abide  in  love, 
 The  priceless  gift  of  life  for  evermore. 
 
 EASTER  EVEN. 
 
 TIT  ALLOWED  for  ever  be  that  twilight  hour, 
 
 When  those  disciples  went  upon  their  way  ; 
 The  deepening  shadows  o'er  their  spirits  lower, 
 The  tender  griefs  that  come  with  close  of  day. 
 
 A  gentle  stranger  tarried  by  their  side, 
 
 And  asked  them  sweetly  why  they  were  so  sad  ? 
 
 "  Hast  thou  not  seen  our  Master  crucified  ?  " 
 They  answered,  "  How  can  we  again  be  glad  ? " 
 
 "  Oh,  children,"  said  the  stranger,  "  do  you  read 
 The  things  which  all  the  holy  prophets  said, 
 
 How  he  would  suffer  and  would  die  indeed, 
 But  yet  should  rise  in  glory  from  the  dead  ? " 
 
 And  when  the  little  village  came  in  view, 
 They  said,  "  Abide  with  us,  for  it  is  late  ; " 
 
 So  he  went  in,  and  sat  down  with  the  two, 
 
 And  took  the  bread,  and  blessed  it  ere  they  ate. 
 
 Their  searching  eyes  were  fastened  on  his  face, 
 
 They  caught  the  look  which  chained  them  as  of  old, 
 
 Only  it  wore  diviner,  loftier  grace  ; 
 
 Their  glorious  risen  Master  they  behold  ! 
 
MARTHA   PERRY  LOWE.  499 
 
 And  then  they  knew  how  strangely  all  the  while 
 Their  spirits  burned  within  them  as  he  talked, 
 
 Or  listened  to  them  with  that  very  smile, 
 
 Explaining  oft  the  Scriptures  while  they  walked. 
 
 They  felt  reward  for  all  their  bitter  pain, 
 
 When,  lo,  he  vanished  softly  from  their  sight ! 
 
 But  they  could  never  be  so  sad  again, 
 
 Who  had  the  memory  of  that  blessed  night. 
 
 WORK. 
 
 ORD,  send  us  forth  among  thy  fields  to  work ! 
 Shall  we  for  words  and  names  contending  be, 
 
 Or  lift  our  garments  from  the  dust  we  see, 
 And  all  the  noon-day  heat  and  burden  shirk  ? 
 
 The  fields  are  white  for  harvest,  shall  we  stay 
 To  find  a  bed  of  roses  for  the  night, 
 And  watch  the  far-off  cloud  that  comes  to  sight, 
 
 Lest  it  should  burst  in  showers  upon  our  way? 
 Fling  off,  my  soul,  thy  grasping  self,  and  view 
 
 With  generous  ardor  all  thy  brother's  need  ; 
 
 Fling  off  thy  dreams  of  golden  ease,  and  weed 
 A  corner  of  thy  Master's  vineyard  too. 
 
 The  harvest  of  the  world  is  great  indeed, 
 O  Jesus,  and  the  laborers  are  few  ! 
 
 A    CALL   TO   THE   CHURCHES. 
 
 V\7AKE,  church  of  freedom,  wake  !  'tis  day! 
 
 And  go  to  all  the  waiting  world  ! 
 Break,  Liberal  Christians,  break  your  way, 
 And  let  your  banner  be  unfurled  ! 
 
 O,  what  a  heritage  have  we,  — 
 
 No  terrors  of  Jehovah's  rod  ; 
 O,  what  divinest  liberty, 
 
 To  be  the  very  sons  of  God  ! 
 
5oo 
 
 SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 We've  mused  too  fondly  and  too  well, 
 A  fire  is  burning  now  within  ; 
 
 Shall  not  our  spirits  yearn  to  tell 
 
 The  hidden  grace  that  conquers  sin  ? 
 
 Shall  we  not  rise  at  this  great  hour 
 With  tongues  of  Pentecostal  flame, 
 
 And  burn  the  fogs  of  doubt  that  lower, 
 And  give  the  Lord  another  name  ? 
 
 O,  brethren,  shall  we  wait  to  see 
 Who  is  of  Cephas,  who  of  Paul  ? 
 
 Divided,  then,  shall  Jesus  be, 
 He  who  can  comprehend  us  all  ? 
 
 Sublimest  Master,  peerless  Mind, 
 Reaching  the  very  core  of  truth, 
 
 With  eye  so  searching,  yet  so  kind, 
 Temper  the  rashness  of  our  youth  ! 
 
 Be  ours  the  creed  which  thou  hast  taught, 
 Wider  than  earth  or  heaven  above, 
 
 Wider  than  all  the  realm  of  thought,  — 
 The  great  attraction  of  thy  love. 
 
 THE   ROCK   OF   AGES. 
 
 f   SEE  it  ever  there  above  my  head  ; 
 
 Let  me  go  up  that  I  may  sit  and  rest : 
 There  I  shall  see  where  all  the  pathways  led, 
 And  find  at  length  the  way, 
 And  where  I  went  astray. 
 
 The  thicket  lures  me  with  its  mellow  gloom  ; 
 
 I  fathom  dreamily  its  lone  retreat, 
 
 Nor  see  the  rising  vapors  round  me  loom  : 
 
 But  there  no  fog  nor  damp 
 
 My  breath  can  chill  or  cramp. 
 
SARA  HAMMOND  PALFREY.  50 1 
 
 I  reach  the  slopes  illumed  with  spots  of  sun  ; 
 They  lighten  up  my  heart  to  peaceful  cheer ; 
 Yet,  when  the  noon  is  hot,  I  am  undone ; 
 
 But  in  that  cleft  'tis  cool, 
 
 And  calm,  and  beautiful ! 
 
 Impatient  as  the  longing  butterfly, 
 
 I  scent  the  far-off  flowers  at  golden  morn  j 
 
 How  shall  I  find  the  meadows  where  they  lie  ? 
 
 Ah,  there  they'll  come  to  sight,  — 
 
 Those  gardens  of  delight. 
 
 Two  roads  I  reach  at  last,  they  hold  me  still  ! 
 Yet  one  of  them  my  feet  must  surely  take  ; 
 I  will  not  go  with  blind  and  partial  will  ; 
 
 Upon  that  Rock  of  Prayer 
 
 I'll  choose,  and  then  I'll  dare. 
 
 O  Rock  of  Ages,  strong  and  sweet  repose 
 For  all  the  pilgrims  of  mortality ! 
 Bewildered  at  the  morn,  or  evening  close, 
 
 Take  them  unto  thy  breast, 
 
 And  give  them  peace  and  rest ! 
 
 SARA    HAMMOND    PALFREY. 
 
 Sara  Hammond  Palfrey,  daughter  of  John  Gorham  Palfrey,  D.D., 
 LL.D.,  was  born  in  Boston,  and  now  lives  at  Cambridge  with  her  parents 
 and  sisters.  Her  published  writings  are  a  volume  of  poems,  "  Premices," 
 Ticknor  &  Fields,  Boston,  1S50  ;  "Herman,  or  Young  Knighthood," 
 Lee  &  Shepard,  Boston,  1S66;  "Sir  Pavon  and  St.  Pavon,"  Lee  & 
 Shepard,  Boston,  1867  ;  "Agnes  Wentworth,"  J.  B.  Lippincott  &  Co., 
 Philadelphia,  1869;  and  articles  and  poems  in  "Putnam's,"  the  "Atlan- 
 tic," and  other  magazines,  and  in  the  New  York  "Nation,"  and  various 
 newspapers  beside.     Her  nom  de  flume  is  "  E.  Foxton." 
 
 THE    CHILD'S    PLEA. 
 
 73ECAUSE  I  wear  the  swaddling-bands  of  Time, 
 
 Still  mark  and  watch  me, 
 Eternal  Father  on  thy  throne  sublime, 
 
 Lest  Satan  snatch  me. 
 
502  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 Because  to  seek  thee  I  have  yet  to  learn, 
 
 Come  down  and  lead  me. 
 Because  I  am  too  weak  my  bread  to  earn, 
 
 My  Father,  feed  me. 
 
 Because  I  grasp  at  things  that  are  not  mine 
 
 And  might  undo  me, 
 Give,  from  thy  treasure-house  of  goods  divine, 
 
 Good  gifts  unto  me. 
 
 Because  too  near  the  pit  I  creeping  go, 
 
 Do  not  forsake  me. 
 To  climb  into  thine  arms  I  am  too  low,  — 
 
 O  Father,  take  me  ! 
 
 THE   EXCHANGE. 
 
 CAD  souls,  that  harbor  fears  and  woes 
 In  many  a  haunted  breast, 
 Turn  but  to  meet  your  lowly  Lord, 
 And  he  will  give  you  rest. 
 
 Into  his  commonwealth,  alike 
 
 Are  ills  and  blessings  thrown. 
 Bear  ye  your  neighbors'  burdens  ;  lo  ! 
 Their  ease  shall  be  your  own. 
 
 Yield  only  up  his  price,  your  heart, 
 Into  God's  loving  hold  ; 
 He  turns,  with  heavenly  alchemy, 
 Your  lead  of  life  to  gold. 
 
 Some  needful  pangs  endure  in  peace, 
 Nor  yet  for  freedom  pant ; 
 He  cuts  the  bane,  you  cleave  to,  off, 
 Then  gives  the  boon  you  want. 
 
SARA   HAMMOND  PALFREY.  503 
 
 OUARE   TRISTIS? 
 
 "I  VTHY  shun,  my  soul,  with  downcast,  cowed  behavior, 
 
 The  strife  that  lowers  ? 
 Man's  lot  is  pain  j  shall  Satan  or  the  Saviour 
 
 Attend  on  ours  ? 
 
 Still  in  the  van  is  seen  thy  conquering  warden  ; 
 
 And  flight  is  loss. 
 The  soothing  angels  of  the  grievous  garden 
 
 Yet  haunt  the  cross  ; 
 
 And  if,  accomplished  all  thy  craven  fears, 
 
 That  cross  be  mine, 
 On  high  the  martyrs  sing,  Faith  grows  in  tears 
 
 As  pearls  in  brine. 
 
 If  'twere  not  for  the  world,  that  comes  between 
 
 With  cares  unmeet, 
 O  child  of  God,  by  thee  the  stars  were  seen 
 
 Beneath  thy  feet. 
 
 Thou,  Father,  fallest  into  no  mistake. 
 
 We  judge  amiss, 
 And  often  choose  the  drossy  things  that  make 
 
 Ignoble  bliss. 
 
 Then  bless  us,  —  but  for  this,  with  bended  knee, 
 
 On  thee  I  call,  — 
 As  we  should  pray  that  thou  shouldst  bless,  if  we, 
 
 Like  thee,  knew  all  ! 
 
 THE    SEEKER. 
 
 A  LONG  Time's  river,  —  like  a  soul  unborn 
 
 That  endlessly,  on  Chaos'  shores  forlorn, 
 Flits  through  the  long-drawn  dark  and  finds  no  morn,  — 
 I  rove  with  restless  feet,  and  rove  in  vain. 
 Slow  grow  my  feet,  and  full  of  weary  pain. 
 'Tis  mine  to  seek,  but  never  yet  attain. 
 
504  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH, 
 
 Before  me,  like  a  boding  wraith,  I  see 
 
 The  ♦phantom  pale  of  that  which  I  should  be. 
 
 I  cannot  gain  on  it.     It  flies  from  me. 
 
 Then  doth  it  climb  and  almost  reach  Thy  side. 
 
 I  strain  a  tip-toe  ;  but  my  utmost  tried, 
 
 The  round  world  rolls,  and  back  from  Thee  I  slide. 
 
 Still  this  I  would  be  ;  and  I  am  not  aches 
 Through  all  my  futile  life.     That  life  it  makes 
 A  burning  desert,  which  no  fountain  slakes. 
 "  The  thing  I  would  do,  that  I  do  not,"  saith 
 My  spirit  still,  with  faint  and  fainter  breath. 
 Who  shall  deliver  me  from  all  this  death  ? 
 
 My  God,  in  mercy  let  the  voice,  whose  call 
 
 Rang  through  the  noonday  night  of  Jewish  Saul, 
 
 And  bade  him  rise  the  new-create  St.  Paul,  — 
 
 E'en  though,  like  his,  it  bid  me  sufferings  see,  — 
 
 Bid  mine  at  last  his  own  thanksgiving  be  : 
 
 "  I  can  do  all,  through  Christ  that  strengtheneth  me ! " 
 
 'WILLIAM    EVERETT. 
 
 (1839) 
 
 William  Everett,  th'e  third  son  of  the  late  Hon.  Edward  Everett, 
 was  born  at  Watertown,  Mass.,  Oct.  10,  1839.  He  received  his  earlier 
 education  at  the  public  schools  of  Cambridge  and  Boston,  and  graduated 
 at  Harvard  College  in  1859,  at  Trinity  College,  Cambridge,  England,  in 
 1863,  and  at  the  Dane  Law  School,  Cambridge,  Mass.,  in  1865.  He  was 
 appointed  Latin  Tutor  at  Harvard  College  in  1S70,  and  Assistant  Pro- 
 fessor of  Latin  in  1873.  He  was  licensed  to  preach  by  the  Boston  Asso- 
 ciation of  Ministers  in  1872,  and  during  his  connection  with  the  College 
 a^  a  teacher  has  occupied  many  of  the  Unitarian  pulpits  in  New  England 
 and  New  York. 
 
 In  January  and  February,  1864,  he  delivered  before  the  Lowell  Insti- 
 tute, Boston,  a  course  of  twelve  lectures  on  the  University  of  Cambridge, 
 England,  which  were  afterward  published  under  the  title  "  On  the 
 Cam"   (second  edition,. revised,  Sever  &  Francis,  1S67).     He  has  also 
 
WILLIAM  EVERETT.  505 
 
 published  two  books  for  boys,  "Changing  Base,"  and  "  Double  Play  ;  " 
 "  Hesione,  or  Europe  Unchained,"  a  poem  before  the  Phi  Beta  Kappa 
 Society  of  Harvard  College,  1S6S  ;  and  various  other  productions  in 
 prose  and  poetry,  contributed  to  the  magazines  and  papers.     His  hymns 
 
 have  the  true  inspiration  and  finish. 
 
 "ADESTE    FIDELES." 
 
 A  new  song  to  an  oM  theme  and  tune  (Portuguese  Hymn).      From  the  "  Monthly  Mac 
 zine,"  March,  1S64. 
 
 A  TTEND,  all  ye  faithful,  your  Leader's  command  ! 
 His  trumpet  is  sounding  on  sea  and  on  land  ; 
 The  cross  in  his  banner  is  blazing  afar, 
 His  armies  are  marshalled  for  labor  and  war. 
 
 Put  on,  then,  ye  faithful,  the  arms  of  the  Lord,  — 
 Salvation  your  helmet,  the  Spirit  your  sword  ; 
 With  truth  and  the  gospel  your  sinews  be  steeled, 
 Be  justice  your  breastplate,  and  faith  be  your  shield. 
 
 What  soldier  of  Jesus  shall  shrink  from  his  side, 
 By  armies  though  threatened,  by  perils  though  tried  ? 
 Our  Captain  we'll  follow  to  conflict  and  death, 
 And  shout  in  his  triumph  while  yielding  our  breath. 
 
 The  hosts  of  the  alien  with  terror  shall  view 
 The  ranks  undismayed  of  his  followers  true  : 
 His  anthems  of  glory  our  shouts  shall  begin, 
 While  charging  resistless  the  legions  of  Sin. 
 
 And  when  to  our  prowess  each  traitor  shall  yield, 
 And  laden  with  spoils  we  return  from  the  field, 
 To  Jesus  our  laurels  we'll  gratefully  bring, 
 Exalting  the  name  of  our  conquering  King. 
 
 Dear  Captain  triumphant,  we  offer  to  thee 
 The  heart  of  the  faithful,  the  arm  of  the  free  ; 
 Thy  word  be  our  guide  in  thy  warfare  below, 
 And  ours  be  the  glory  thy  promises  show  ! 
 
506  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 The  two  following  hymns  are  taken  from  a  series  of  Mr.  Everett's 
 papers  which  were  printed  in  the  "  Christian  Register,"  and  which  he 
 entitled  "  Walks  to  and  from  Church." 
 
 THE    GOD    OF    TENDERNESS. 
 
 T~\EAL  gently  with  us,  Lord  ! 
 
 The  ways  of  sin  are  wide  ; 
 O  take  us  by  thy  tender  hand, 
 And  in  thy  pathway  guide. 
 
 Deal  gently  with  us,  Lord  ! 
 
 Our  foes  press  thick  and  bold  : 
 O  who  shall  fight  the  warfare  through, 
 
 If  thou  thine  arm  withhold  ? 
 
 Deal  gently  with  us,  Lord, 
 
 For  Christ,  thy  Son,  was  kind  ; 
 
 O  watch  thou  kindly  o'er  the  sheep 
 He  left  in  grief  behind. 
 
 Deal  gently  with  us,  Lord, 
 
 Then  we  shall  gentle  be  ; 
 And  o'er  our  feeble  brethren  watch 
 
 In  love  and  charity. 
 
 Thine  arm  in  wrath  that  falls 
 With  doubt  and  dread  we  bear  ; 
 
 But  every  heart  in  rapture  springs 
 Its  gentle  touch  to  share. 
 
 HYMN    FOR   THE    SEASIDE. 
 
 Written  after  a  visit  to  the  Grand  Manan  Island  in  August,  1861. 
 
 f~\  THOU,  whose  Spirit  o'er  the  deep 
 
 Moved,  and  awaked  the  world  from  sleep  1 
 Here  on  the  ocean's  craggy  shore 
 Thy  power  we  own,  thy  love  adore. 
 
 In  fixed  bounds  thy  laws  restrain 
 
 The  rising  and  the  falling  main  ; 
 
 "  Go  thou  thus  far,"  thy  mandate  said, 
 
 "  For  here  shall  thy  proud  waves  be  stayed." 
 
 i 
 
WILLIAM  EVERETT.  507 
 
 When  blithe  the  azure  ripples  play, 
 In  cresting  wreaths  of  milk-white  spray, 
 Their  sunlit  breasts  reflect  thy  smile 
 In  transport  round  the  lonely  isle. 
 
 When  loud  the  raging  tempests  rise, 
 And  roaring  surges  lash  the  skies, 
 Trembling  we  own  thy  mighty  hand, 
 Which  hurls  their  thunders  on  the  land. 
 
 Thy  power  along  the  sounding  deep 
 Piled  the  huge  crags  in  ramparts  steep  ; 
 Thine  outstretched  arm  in  safety  hides 
 The  wayworn  bark  from  warning  tides. 
 
 If  through  the  sea  our  pathway  lie, 
 Father,  be  thou  our  pilot  nigh  ; 
 And  from  life's  storms  and  billows  save 
 For  his  dear  sake  who  walked  the  wave. 
 
 And  when  death's  silent  waters  roll 
 O'er  fainting  sense  and  parting  soul, 
 O  take  us  to  that  blissful  shore, 
 Where  ocean-floods  shall  beat  no  more  ! 
 
 PRAYER   AGAINST    CONCEIT.* 
 
 Luke  vii.  58. 
 
 P\EAR  Saviour,  in  my  hour  of  pride, 
 
 When  all  the  world  is  gay  around, 
 
 And  friends'  and  flatterers'  empty  praise 
 
 Uplifts  me  with  its  charming  sound,  — 
 
 Send  down  thy  word  with  force  divine, 
 To  kill  the  serpent  in  my  heart  : 
 
 O  thou  long-suffering,  teach  once  more 
 How  low  am  I,  how  high  thou  art. 
 
 *  Monthly  Magazine,  1869. 
 
503  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 Thou,  whose  transcendent  spirit  holds 
 
 Creation  open  to  its  view, 
 And,  ages  ere  the  worlds  were  made, 
 
 The  Father's  inmost  counsels  knew,  —  \ 
 
 O  tame  and  bind  beneath  thy  hand 
 The  vain  conceit  that  bids  me  soar ! 
 
 Show  me  how  poor  is  all  my  skill, 
 
 How  weak  my  voice,  how  mean  my  lore  ! 
 
 But  since  thy  never-dying  love 
 
 Some  boon  on  every  child  bestows, 
 
 And  none  that  meekly  asks  a  share 
 Ungifted  from  thy  presence  goes,  — 
 
 Grant  those  sweet  friends  thy  bounty  gives 
 Thy  life  inspiring  mine  may  see  j 
 
 That  they  whom  love  to  me  hath  bound 
 Be  ever  one  in  God  with  thee. 
 
 TO  US  THERE  IS  ONE  GOD,  THE  FATHER. 
 
 Written  for  the  Unitarian  Festival  at  the  Music  Hall,  May  27,  1869. 
 
 A  LMIGHTY  Father!  thou  didst  frame 
 Our  souls  and  bodies  by  thy  will ; 
 The  matchless  glories  of  thy  name 
 Our  sole  allegiance  follows  still. 
 
 O  righteous  God  !  thy  love  unchanged 
 Gives  every  child  an  equal  place ; 
 
 And  hearts  thy  terrors  have  estranged 
 Melt  in  the  sweetness  of  thy  face. 
 
 O  loving  God  !  our  thanks  we  pay 
 
 That  thou  didst  send  thy  Son  on  earth,  — 
 
 Our  Lord,  our  light,  our  truth,  our  way, 
 First-born  of  the  immortal  birth. 
 
WILUAM  EVERETT.  509 
 
 O  Father !  by  his  Spirit  moved, 
 
 May  we  be  one  with  him  in  thee  ! 
 O  make  us  loved  as  he  has  loved, 
 
 And  with  his  freedom  make  us  free. 
 
 Then  through  our  land,  redeemed,  restored, 
 Shall  rise  fresh  incense  to  thy  throne, 
 
 And  aye,  through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord, 
 All  power  and  praise  be  thine  alone. 
 
 THE    CHILDREN'S    GOD. 
 
 Written  for  the  25th  Anniversary  of  the  Children's  Mission  to  the  Children  of  the 
 Destitute,  Boston,  1874. 
 
 "CWTHER,  whose  sheep  in  pastures  fair 
 
 Are  folded  safe,  are  richly  fed, 
 We  bless  thee  that  thy  guardian  care 
 
 Through  all  these  years  our  steps  hath  led. 
 
 Our  feet  within  thy  courts  would  stand, 
 Where  every  child  alike  finds  room  ; 
 
 And  small  with  great  join  hand  in  hand, 
 To  make  thy  heavenly  kingdom  come. 
 
 All  thanks  to  thee,  that  they  whose  life 
 Without  our  help  were  drear  and  dark 
 
 Have  here  been  kept  from  sin  and  strife 
 Beneath  the  shelter  of  thine  ark: 
 
 May  thy  dear  Son  within  these  walls 
 
 His  little  flock  for  ever  greet, 
 Whose  voice  of  strength  and  mercy  calls 
 
 The  wandering  children  to  his  feet. 
 
 Seal,  Father,  this  our  suppliant  song, 
 That,  through  the  future  as  the  past, 
 
 Our  children's  children  may  prolong 
 Thy  works  of  love  while  time  shall  last. 
 
5io 
 
 SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 WILLIAM    CHANNING   GANNETT. 
 
 (1840.) 
 
 Rev.  William  C.  Gannett,  son  of  Rev.  Ezra  Stiles  Gannett,  D.D., 
 and  A.  L.  (Tilden)  Gannett,  was  born  in  Boston,  March  13,  1840.  His 
 father,  of  blessed  memory,  was  long  the  honored  minister  of  the  Federal 
 Street,  afterward  the  Arlington  Street  Church,  Boston,  having  been 
 ordained  as  junior  pastor  with  Dr.  Channing,  June  30,  1824.  His  sud- 
 den and  afflicting  death  by  the  terrible  calamity  on  the  Eastern  Railroad, 
 at  Revere,  Aug.  26,  187 1,  is  only  too  fresh  in  the  public  mind.  The  son 
 graduated  at  Harvard  College  in  i860,  and  then  taught  a  year  at  New- 
 port, R.I.  Having  next  spent  six  months  in  the  Divinity  School  at 
 Cambridge,  he  devoted  three  and  a-half  years,  during  the  war,  to  work 
 among  the  freedmen.  After  the  war  was  over,  he  passed  a  year  in 
 Europe,  and  then  two  years  more  in  the  Cambridge  Theological  School, 
 graduating  from  that  institution  in  186S.  For  nearly  two  years  (1868-70), 
 he  was  the  pastor  of  the  Unitarian  Church  at  Milwaukee,  Wis.  Since 
 then  he  has  resided  chiefly  in  Boston,  meanwhile  preaching  for  a  year 
 (1871-72)  for  the  Unitarian  Society  at  Lexington,  and  occasionally  in 
 other  places. 
 
 He  printed  an  article  on  the  Port  Royal  Experiment,  in  the  "North 
 American  Review,"  1865,  and  one  on  Russian  Emancipation,  in  the  same 
 publication,  1867.  He  has  contributed  to  the  magazines  and  papers 
 various  sermons,  lectures,  and  addresses ;  and  has  also  written  some 
 very  fine  hymns  and  other  poems,  from  which  we  make  the  following 
 selections.  Few  productions  of  our  younger  bards  seem  richer  in 
 thought  and  expression  than  these,  and  we  scarcely  know  where  to  look 
 for  a  sweeter  or  more  beautiful  song  than  "The  Secret  Place  of  the 
 Most  High." 
 
 "THE   HILLS    OF   THE   LORD." 
 
 From  "  Old  and  New." 
 
 C^OT)  ploughed  one  day  with  an  earthquake, 
 
 And  drove  his  furrows  deep ! 
 The  huddling  plains  upstarted, 
 The  hills  were  all  aleap  ! 
 
 But  that  is  the  mountains'  secret, 
 
 Age  hidden  in  their  breast ; 
 "  God's  peace  is  everlasting," 
 
 Are  the  dream-words  of  their  rest. 
 
THE  HILLS  OF  THE  LORD.      ■ 
 
 God  ploughed  one  day  with  an  earthquake, 
 
 And   drove   his   furrows  deep; 
 The  huddling  plains  upstarted, 
 
 The  hills  were  all  a  leap; 
 
 Hut  that  is  the  mountain's  secret. 
 
 Age-hidden  in  their  breast; 
 "God's  peace  is  everlasting," 
 
 Are  the  dream -words  of  their  rest. 
 
 He  hath  made  them  the  haunt  of  beauty. 
 The   home-elect   of   his   grace; 
 
 He  spreadeth  his  mornings  on  them. 
 His  sunsets  light  their  face. 
 
 His   winds  bring  messages  to  them. 
 
 Wild  storm  news  from  the  main; 
 They  send  it  down  to  the  valleys, 
 
 In  the  love-song  of  the  rain. 
 
 His  thunders  tread  in  music 
 
 Of  foot -falls  echoing  long, 
 And  carry  majestic  greeting 
 
 Around  the  silent  throng. 
 
 Green  tribes  from  far  come  trooping. 
 
 And  over  the  uplands  ilock; 
 He  hath  woven  the  zones  together 
 
 As  a  robe  for  his  risen  rock. 
 
 They  are  nurseries  for  young  rivers, 
 
 Xests  for  his  flying  cloud, 
 Homesteads  for  free-born  races, 
 
 Masterful,  free  and  proud. 
 
 The  people  of  tired  cities, 
 
 Come  up  to  their  shrines  and  pray : 
 God  freshens  again  within  them 
 
 Afl  he  passes  by  all  day. 
 
 And  lo!    I  have  caught  their  secret, 
 
 The  beauty  deeper  than  all, — 
 This  faith — that  life's  hard  moments 
 
 When  the  jarring  sorrows  befall, 
 
 Are  but  God  ploughing  his  mountains, 
 
 And  those  mountains  yet  shall  be 
 The  source  of  his  grace  and  sweetness, 
 
 And  his  peace  everlasting  to  me. 
 
 — Wm.  C.  Gannett. 
 
giving  the  pith  of  the  papers  and  discussions. 
 
 Discussion  on  various  points  then  followed  by  Nathaniel  Rid 
 ardson  and  Arabella  Carter,  both  expressing  appreciation 
 1he  good  review;  the  latter  spoke  of  one  encouraging  featui 
 being  the  attendance  and  participation  of  those  from  tl 
 '"  other  branch,"  and  especially  was  she  pleased  that  Dr.  O.  '. 
 Janney  gave  so  clearly  on  First-day  evening  the  actual  beli 
 of  Friends:  she  felt  this  was  also  needed  in  meetings  composi 
 wholly  of  Friends.  At  Nathaniel  Richardson's  request  the  foi 
 cardinal  points  of  belief  as  given  by  Dr.  Janney  were  read 
 this  time. 
 
 Emma  Wildnian  recited  "The  Sunset  City  "  in  a  most  plea 
 ing  manner. 
 
 William  P.  Bonner  reported  the  work  of  renovating  the 
 graveyard  was  now  completed  satisfactorily,  and  suggested 
 diagram  of  the  more  recent  burying  grounds  be  made 
 faithful  records  kept.  This  was  approved  and  the  appointme 
 of  a  committee  left  with  the  Executive  Committee.         A.  C 
 
 Byberry,  Pa. 
 
 Newtown.  Pa. — The  regular  monthly  meeting  of  the  Ne 
 town  Junior  Friends'  Association  met  at  the  home  of  Jose 
 Yardley,  near  Edgewood,  on  Fourth -day  evening. 
 
 The  meeting  was  opened  by  the  president,  Lloyd  Wilson,  w 
 a  few  moments  of  silence,  after  which  Elizabeth  K.  Eyre  a 
 appointed  secretary  pro  tern  for  Alice  K.  Woodman. 
 
 The  program  was  opened  by  a  paper  written  by  Mary 
 Smith,  "  History  of  Previous  Friends'  Conferences,"  which 
 lead  by  Emma  J.  Wilson.  Tn  it  she  said  the  first  confere 
 held  was  ot  Pendleton,  Ind.,  the  prominent  speakers  there  be 
 Aaron  M.  Powell,  Charles  M.  Stabler,  Anna  Jackson,  Allen  F 
 craft  and  others.  Since  the  first  conference  she  traced  the 
 velopment  to  the  last  one  just  held  at  Toronto,  and  told  of 
 effect  on  the  Friends,  it  bringing  them  so  much  closer  toget 
 and  allowing  them  to  exchange  their  ideas  on  religious 
 jects. 
 
 Martha  C.  Wilson  next  gave  a  talk  on  "k  What  Benefit  II 
 These  Conferences  Been  to  the  Society  of  Friends."  She 
 since  the  first  conference  the  membership  has  increased  grei 
 >wing  to  the  arousing  of  interest  in  the  Society.  It  has  I 
 found  that  the  exchanging  of  ideas  and  modes  of  teaching  1 
 greatly  benefited  the  younger  people. 
 
 Mary  G.  Wilson  next  gave  a  reading  from  .lames  Ru 
 Lowell  entitled,  "The  Parable." 
 
 Elizabeth  A.  Woodman  and  Bernard  Walton  had  been 
 pointed  by  the  Executive  Committee  to  give  accounts  of  th 
 cent  conference  at  Toronto,  which  they  both  did  very  ably, 
 it  they  told  of  the  widening  influences  of  the  conference 
 the  benefits  they  had  derived  from  it.  each  giving  full  acco 
 of  portions  of  the  program. 
 
 After  roll  call  the  meeting  adjourned  with  a  few  moinen 
 silence  to  meet  at  the  home  of  Helen  T.  Brown,  on  Ninth  m 
 28th. 
 
WILLTAM  CHANNING  GAXXETT.  5*1 
 
 He  hath  made  them  the  haunt  of  beauty, 
 
 The  home  elect  of  his  grace  ; 
 He  spreadeth  his  mornings  on  them, 
 
 His  sunsets  light  their  face. 
 
 His  thunders  tread  in  music 
 
 Of  footfalls  echoing  long, 
 And  carry  majestic  greeting 
 
 Around  the  silent  throng. 
 
 His  winds  bring  messages  to  them, 
 
 Wild  storm-news  from  the  main  j 
 They  sing  it  down  to  the  valleys, 
 
 In  the  love-song  of  the  rain. 
 
 Green  tribes  from  far  come  trooping, 
 
 And  over  the  uplands  flock  ; 
 He  hath  woven  the  zones  together 
 
 As  a  robe  for  his  risen  rock. 
 
 They  are  nurseries  for  young  rivers, 
 
 Nests  for  his  flying  cloud, 
 Homesteads  for  new-born  races, 
 
 Masterful,  free,  and  proud. 
 
 The  people  of  tired  cities 
 
 Come  up  to  their  shrines  and  pray  ; 
 God  freshens  again  within  them, 
 
 As  he  passes  by  all  day. 
 
 And,  lo  !  I  have  caught  their  secret, 
 
 The  beauty  deeper  than  all ! 
 This  faith,  that  life's  hard  moments, 
 
 When  the  jarring  sorrows  befall, 
 
 Are  but  God  ploughing  his  mountains ; 
 
 And  those  mountains  yet  shall  be 
 The  source  of  his  grace  and  freshness, 
 
 And  his  peace  everlasting  to  me. 
 
512  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 SUNDAY   ON   THE   HILL-TOP. 
 
 From  "The  Index." 
 
 /^NLY  ten  miles  from  the  city, 
 And  how  I  am  lifted  away 
 To  the  peace  that  passeth  knowing, 
 And  the  light  that  is  not  of  day ! 
 
 All  alone  on  the  hill-top  ! 
 
 Nothing  but  God  and  me, 
 And  the  spring-time's  resurrection, 
 
 Far  shillings  of  the  sea  ; 
 
 The  river's  laugh  in  the  valley, 
 Hills  dreaming  of  their  past, 
 
 And  all  things  silently  opening, 
 Opening  into  the  Vast ! 
 
 Eternities  past  and  future 
 Seem  clinging  to  all  I  see  ; 
 
 And  things  immortal  cluster 
 Around  my  bended  knee. 
 
 That  pebble  is  older  than  Adam  ! 
 
 Secrets  it  hath  to  tell ; 
 These  rocks,  —  they  cry  out  history, 
 
 Could  I  but  listen  well. 
 
 That  pool  knows  the  ocean-feeling 
 Of  storm  and  moon-led  tide  ; 
 
 The  sun  finds  its  east  and  west  therein, 
 And  the  stars  find  room  to  glide. 
 
 That  lichen's  crinkled  circle 
 
 Still  creeps  with  the  Life  Divine, 
 
 Where  the  Holy  Spirit  loitered 
 On  its  way  to  this  face  of  mine  ; 
 
 On  its  way  to  the  shining  faces 
 Where  angel-lives  are  led, 
 
 Where  I  am  the  lichen's  circle 
 That  creeps  with  tiny  tread. 
 
TRUE  WORSHIP 
 
 WILLIAM  C.  GANNETT 
 
 The  Lord  is  in  His  Holy  Place 
 
 In  all  thin&s  near  and  far ! 
 Shekinah  of  tke  snowflake,  He, 
 
 And  &lory  of  tke  star, 
 And  secret  of  the  April  land 
 
 That  stars  the  field  to  flowers, 
 Whose  little  tabernacles  rise 
 
 To  hold  Him  through  the  hours. 
 
 He  hides  Himself  within  the  love 
 
 Of  those  whom  we  love  best ; 
 The  smiles  and  tones  that  make  our  homes. 
 
 Are  shrines  by  Him  possessed ; 
 He  tents  within  the  lonely  heart 
 
 And  shepherds  every  thought ; 
 We  find  him  not  by  seeking  far — 
 
 We  lose  Him  not,  unsought. 
 
 Our  art  may  build  its  Holy  Place, 
 
 Our  feet  on  Sinai  stand, 
 But  Holiest  of  Holies  knows 
 
 No  tread,  no  touch  of  hand ; 
 The  testing  soul  makes  Sinai  still 
 
 Wherever  we  may  be, 
 And  in  the  vow,  "Thy  will  be  done!" 
 
 Lies  all  Gethsemane. 
 
 —  Hasting' s  Great  I'exts  of  the  Bible. 
 
ST.' LOUIS,  JANUARY  21,   1915. 
 
 HERE    AND    THERE 
 
 his  side  of  the  Rio  Grande,  corn- 
 opposition  to  Catholic  priests  in 
 counter  rebellions.  Huerta  re- 
 the  hierarchy,  and  his  opponents 
 
 iests  with  vengeance.  They  have 
 all  the  foreign  priest's — not  less 
 
 een  executed.     All   native   as  well 
 
 found  guilty  of  active  opposition 
 as    political    leaders.      Practically 
 
 hes  are  closed  throughout  the  Re- 
 een  confiscated,  and  some  turned 
 he  Roman  hierarchs  in  this  coun- 
 e  administration  for  not  extend- 
 in  that  torn  and  bleeding  land. 
 
 activity  has  there  been  a  greater 
 
 ith  1913,  than  in  the  development 
 14  there  were  80,264  freight  cars 
 46,732  in  1913,  while  in  1914  there 
 
 ought,  as  over  against  3,129  in 
 locomotives  ordered  in  1914,  as 
 3.      In    1914    the    total    mileage    of 
 
 1  miles,  as  opposed  to  '3,071  miles 
 
 the    increase    in    rates,    recently 
 
 Commerce    Commission,    will   very 
 
 :s    of    railroad    business    in    1915. 
 
 cial  barometers,  indicating  finan- 
 
 the  nation.  Already  new  orders 
 supplies. 
 
 more  than  forty  per  cent  of  the 
 States  Steel  Corporation  are  em- 
 oration.  More  than  50,000  em- 
 own  stock  in  it.  Last  year  alone 
 for  42,926  shares  of  preferred 
 i    stock.      The    subscription   price 
 
 bering  the  Turkish  governmc 
 the  world  and  one   of  its  ric 
 Germany    thought    till    recen 
 Great   Britain.     Our  mother 
 agency  in  the  world. 
 
 The    Clayton    Anti-Trust    ] 
 ought    to    become    epoch-mak 
 the  history  of  labor.     It  deck 
 is    not    a   commodity   or   an   i 
 cago    Record-Herald    declare 
 dom   not   less    significant    to 
 the    Declaration    of    Independ 
 So    long   as    labor    is   looked 
 mercial  commodity,   so  long 
 and  dealt  with   as  the  machi 
 commodity;    it   is   a   human   tl 
 coal  and  iron,  nor  paid  for  a 
 This  declaration  is  a  necessar 
 izing  of   industry. 
 
 The  New  York  "Times"  ha 
 large  gifts  for  educational 
 United  States  for  the  year  19 
 of  $315,000,000  as  compared 
 gratifying  to  observe  the  gr 
 the  Christian  doctrine  of  ste 
 are  coming  to  understand  tha 
 sense  that  they  are  stewards  ; 
 ble  by  their  fellowmen  on  ear 
 faithful  administration  of  the 
 The  world  is  rising  into  the 
 year,   notwithstanding  an   occa 
 
 It  is  reported  that  there  ar 
 in  the  United  States,  of  whom 
 sand  are  in  a  state  of  hunger, 
 some  legitimate  provision  fo 
 possible  efforts  should  be  m 
 the    line    of  public   improvemei 
 
WILLIAM  CHANNING  GANNETT.  5*3 
 
 I  can  hear  these  violets  chorus 
 To  the  sky's  benediction  above  ; 
 
 And  we  all  are  together  lying 
 On  the  bosom  of  Infinite  love. 
 
 I  —  I  am  a  part  of  the  poem, 
 
 Of  its  every  sight  and  sound  ; 
 For  my  heart  beats  inward  rhymings 
 
 To  the  Sabbath  that  lies  around. 
 
 Oh,  the  peace  at  the  heart  of  Nature  ! 
 
 Oh,  the  light  that  is  not  of  day ! 
 Why  seek  it  afar  for  ever, 
 
 When  it  cannot  be  lifted  away? 
 
 Blue  Hill,  May  21,  1871. 
 
 THE  SECRET  PLACE  OF  THE  MOST  HIGH. 
 
 Read  at  the  installation  of  the  Fourth  Unitarian  Church  of  Chicago,  April  24,  1873. 
 
 '"PHE  Lord  is  in  his  Holy  Place 
 
 In  all  things  near  and  far, 
 Shekinah  of  the  snowflake,  he, 
 
 And  glory  of  the  star, 
 And  secret  of  the  April-land 
 
 That  stirs  the  field  to  flowers, 
 Whose  little  tabernacles  rise 
 
 To  hold  him  through  the  hours. 
 
 He  hides  himself  within  the  love 
 
 Of  those  that  we  love  best  ; 
 The  smiles  and  tones  that  make  our  homes 
 
 Are  shrines  by  him  possessed. 
 He  tents  within  the  lonely  heart 
 
 And  shepherds  every  thought ; 
 We  find  him  not  by  seeking  long, 
 
 We  lose  him  not  unsought. 
 
 33 
 
5H  SOArGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 So,  though  we  build  a  Holy  Place 
 
 To  be  our  Sinai-stand, 
 The  Holiest  of  Holies  still 
 
 Is  never  made  by  hand. 
 Our  Sinai  needs  the  listening  ear, 
 
 Our  Garden  needs  the  vow : 
 "  Thy  will  be  done/'  —  and  lo  !  thy  voice, 
 
 Thy  vision,  as  we  bow  I 
 
 "CONSIDER  THE   LILIES    HOW   THEY   GROW." 
 
 "LJE  hides  within  the  lily 
 
 A  strong  and  tender  care, 
 That  wins  the  earth-born  atoms 
 
 To  glory  of  the  air  ; 
 He  weaves  the  shining  garments 
 
 Unceasingly  and  still, 
 Along  the  quiet  waters, 
 
 In  niches  of  the  hill. 
 
 We  linger  at  the  vigil 
 
 With  him  who  bent  the  knee, 
 To  watch  the  old-time  lilies 
 
 In  distant  Galilee  ; 
 And  still  the  worship  deepens 
 
 And  quickens  into  new, 
 As  brightening  down  the  ages 
 
 God's  secret  thrilleth  through, 
 
 O  Toiler  of  the  lily, 
 
 Thy  touch  is  in  the  man  ! 
 No  leaf  that  dawns  to  petal 
 
 But  hints  the  angel-plan. 
 The  flower-horizons  open  ! 
 
 The  blossom  vaster  shows  ! 
 We  hear  thy  wide  world's  echo, 
 
 See  how  the  lily  grows. 
 
NATURE. 
 
 1  le  hides  within  the  lily 
 
 \   strong  and  tender  care. 
 That  wins  the  earth-born  atoms 
 
 To  glory  of  the  air; 
 lie  weaves  the  shining  garments 
 
 Unceasingly  and  still, 
 Along  the  quiet  waters, 
 
 In  niches  of  the  hill. 
 
 We  linger  at  the  vigil 
 
 With  Him  Who  bent  the  knee 
 To  watch  the  old-time  lilies 
 
 In  distant  Galilee ; 
 And  still  the  worship  deepens 
 
 And  quickens  into  new, 
 As,  brightening  down  the  ages, 
 
 God's  secret  thrilleth  through. 
 
 O  Toiler  of  the  lily, 
 
 Thy  touch  is  in  the  Man  ! 
 No  leaf  that  dawns  to  petal 
 
 But  hints  the  angel-plan. 
 The  flower-horizons  open ! 
 
 The  blossom  vaster  shows  ! 
 We  hear  Thy  wide  world's  echo — 
 
 See  how  the  lily  grows ! 
 
 Shy  yearnings  of  the  savage, 
 
 Unfolding  thought  by  thought, 
 To  holy  lives  are  lifted, 
 
 To  visions  fair  are  wrought ; 
 The  races  rise  and  cluster, 
 
 And  evils  fade  and  fall, 
 Till  chaos  blooms  to  beauty, 
 
 Thy  purpose  crowning  all ! 
 
 — W.  C.  Gannett. 
 
care  heaving  and  lifting  us  shoreward  still.      The  tide  saves ! 
 
 The  waters  are  chill,  the  winds  contrary,  but  far  and  wide  ov 
 the  wastes  of  life's  great  main  rolls  the  good  tide  of  God,  pulsii 
 around  every  frightened  heart  and  circling  the  world  with  hope, 
 lifts  us^  heavenward  when  all  seems  lost,  and  sweeps  us  at  last  in 
 the  white  haven  of  God's  peace  if  onlv  we  deny  not  nor  despair, 
 is  the  tide  that  saves, 
 
 "  While  the  tired  waves  vainly  breaking 
 Seem  here  no  painful  inch  to  gain, 
 Far  back,  through  creek  and  inlet  making, 
 Comes,  silent  flooding  in,  the  main." 
 — "  S.S.  Times." 
 
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 "  SPECS  "  AND  OTHER  SPECKS. 
 By  Charles  Frederic  Goss,  D.D. 
 ^||C    AX  MULLER  has  told  us  of  an  old  professor  who  pr 
 S   ^13      senteci.  to  the  Royal  Society  many  pages  of  life-long  ol 
 ^  ■■*/      servations  on  certain  deviations  of  the  magnetic  needl 
 and  who  never  noticed  that  during  all  this  time  he  w; 
 wearing  a  pair  of  steel  spectacles  on  his  learned  nose. 
 
 One  can  see  him  with  his  big,  wondering  eyes,  bending  moi 
 and  more  closely  down  over  the  trembling  finger  of  steel,  and  racl 
 ing  his  poor  bewildered  brain.  Account  for  these  mysterious  oscill; 
 tions !  What  profound  theories  he  must  have  evolved  out  of  h 
 inner  consciousness!  .  With  what  stupendous  intellectual  error 
 must  he  have  elaborated  and  defended  them!       One  cannot  he! 
 
WILLIAM  CHANN1NG  GANNETT.  515 
 
 Shy  yearnings  of  the  savage, 
 
 Unfolding  thought  by  thought, 
 To  holy  lives  are  lifted, 
 
 To  visions  fair  are  wrought ; 
 The  races  rise  and  cluster, 
 
 Transfigurations  fall, 
 Man's  chaos  blooms  to  beauty, 
 
 Thy  purpose  crowning  all  ! 
 
 DEDICATION   HYMN. 
 
 Written  for  the  dedication  of  "  Parker  Memorial  Hall,"  Boston,  Sept.  21,  1873. 
 
 r\  HEART  of  all  the  shining  day, 
 
 The  green  earth's  still  delight, 
 
 Thou  freshness  in  the  morning  wind, 
 
 Thou  silence  of  the  night. 
 Thou  beauty  of  our  temple-walls, 
 
 Thou  strength  within  the  stone,  — 
 What  is  it  we  can  offer  thee 
 
 Save  what  is  first  thine  own  ? 
 
 Old  memories  throng :  we  think  of  one, 
 
 Awhile  with  us  he  trod  ; 
 Whose  gospel-words  yet  bloom  and  burn, 
 
 We  called  him  Gift  of  God. 
 Thy  gift  again  ;  we  bring  thine  own, 
 
 This  memory,  this  hope, 
 This  faith,  that  still  one  temple  holds 
 
 Him,  us,  within  its  cope. 
 
 Not  that  we  see,  but  sureness  comes 
 
 When  such  as  he  have  passed ; 
 The  freshness  thrills,  the  silence  fills, 
 
 Life  lives  then  in  the  Vast  ! 
 Their  vanished  goodness  quickens  it, 
 
 And  touches  every  star, 
 The  Gift  of  God  becomes  himself,  — 
 
 Himself,  so  near,  so  far  ! 
 
$16  SOJVGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 LISTENING    FOR   GOD. 
 
 T  HEAR  it  often  in  the  dark, 
 
 I  hear  it  in  the  light,  — 
 Where  is  the  voice  that  comes  to  me 
 
 With  such  a  quiet  might  ? 
 It  seems  but  echo  to  my  thought, 
 
 And  yet  beyond  the  stars  ; 
 It  seems  a  heart-beat  in  a  hush, 
 
 And  yet  the  planet  jars  ! 
 
 O,  may  it  be  that  far  within 
 
 My  inmost  soul  there  lies 
 A  spirit-sky,  that  opens  with 
 
 Those  voices  of  surprise  ? 
 And  can  it  be,  by  night  and  day, 
 
 That  firmament  serene 
 Is  just  the  heaven  where  God  himself, 
 
 The  Father,  dwells  unseen  ? 
 
 O  God,  within,  so  close  to  me 
 
 That  every  thought  is  plain, 
 Be  judge,  be  friend,  be  Father  still, 
 
 And  in  thy  heaven  reign  ! 
 Thy  heaven  is  mine,  —  my  very  soul ! 
 
 Thy  words  are  sweet  and  strong, 
 They  fill  my  inward  silences 
 
 With  music  and  with  song. 
 
 They  send  me  challenges  to  right, 
 
 And  loud  rebuke  my  ill  ; 
 They  ring  my  bells  of  victory, 
 
 They  breathe  my  "  Peace,  be  still !  " 
 They  ever  seem  to  say  :  My  child, 
 
 Why  seek  me  so  all  day  ? 
 Now  journey  inward  to  thyself, 
 
 And  listen  by  the  way  ! 
 
JOHX  WHITE  CHADWICK.  517 
 
 JOHN    WHITE    CHADWICK. 
 
 (1840.) 
 
 Rfv.  John  W.  CHADWICK,  son  of  John  White  Chadwick  and  Jane 
 (Stanley)  Chadwick,  was  born  at  Marblehead,  Mass.,  Oct.  19,  1840. 
 Leaving  school  at  the  age  of  thirteen,  he  was  employed  for  some  months 
 in  a  dry-goods  store,  and  afterwards  engaged  in  shoe-making  until  1857, 
 when  he  went  io  the  Bridgewater  State  Normal  School,  from  which  he 
 graduated  in  February,  1859.  Shortly  after,  he  went  to  the  Academy  at 
 Exeter,  N.H.  ;  next  studied  for  a  year  with  a  private  tutor,  and  then 
 entered  the  Cambridge  Divinity  School,  graduating  from  the  latter  July 
 19,  1S64.  He  was  ordained  minister  of  the  Second  Unitarian  Church, 
 Brooklyn,  N.Y.,  Dec.  21,  1S64,  Robert  Collyer  preaching  the  sermon, 
 and  married  Annie  Horton  Hathaway,  of  Marblehead,  June  28,  1865. 
 
 In  1S70,  he  published  a  life  of  his  predecessor  in  the  pastorate  of  this 
 church,  Rev.  X.  A.  Staples,  with  selections  from  his  sermons.  He  has 
 contributed  frequent  papers  to  the  "  Christian  Examiner,"  "  The  Radi- 
 cal," "Old  and  New,"  "Harper's  Monthly,"  and  other  magazines. 
 Among  those  which  appeared  in  the  first  of  these  periodicals  were 
 articles  on  Tertullian,  John  H.  Newman,  F.  W.  Newman,  and  Frances 
 Power  Cobbe.  He  has  also  published  numerous  poems,  book-reviews, 
 and  other  productions  in  the  "  Christian  Register,"  the  "  Liberal  Chris- 
 tian," the  "Independent,"  and  the  "Christian  Union."  His  poems  are 
 characterized  by  a  rare  beauty  and  tenderness,  and  have  found  a  home 
 in  many  hearts.     They  are  all  full  of  richest  promise. 
 
 HYMN    FOR   VISITATION    DAY. 
 
 Written  for  the  Graduating  Class  of  the  Divinity  School,  Cambridge,  June  19,  1864. 
 
 "EXTERNAL  Ruler  of  the  ceaseless  round 
 
 Of  circling  planets  singing  on  their  way  ; 
 Guide  of  the  nations  from  the  night  profound 
 
 Into  the  glory  of  the  perfect  day  : 
 Rule  in  our  hearts,  that  we  may  ever  be 
 Guided,  and  strengthened,  and  upheld  by  thee. 
 
 We  are  of  thee,  the  children  of  thy  love, 
 The  brothers  of  thy  well-beloved  Son. 
 
 Descend,  O  Holy  Spirit  !  like  a  dove, 
 
 Into  our  hearts,  that  we  may  be  as  one, — 
 
 As  one  with  thee,  to  whom  we  ever  tend  ; 
 
 As  one  with  him,  our  Brother  and  our  Friend. 
 
518  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 We  would  be  one  in  hatred  of  all  wrong, 
 One  in  our  love  of  all  things  sweet  and  fair, 
 
 One  with  the  joy  that  breaketh  into  song, 
 One  with  the  grief  that  trembles  into  prayer, 
 
 One  in  the  power  that  makes  thy  children  free 
 
 To  follow  truth,  and  thus  to  follow  thee. 
 
 Oh  !  clothe  us  with  thy  heavenly  armor,  Lord, 
 Thy  trusty  shield,  thy  sword  of  love  divine. 
 
 Our  inspiration  be  thy  constant  word ; 
 We  ask  no  victories  that  are  not  thine. 
 
 Give  or  withhold,  let  pain  or  pleasure  be, 
 
 Enough  to  know  that  we  are  serving  thee. 
 
 SEALED    ORDERS. 
 
 "  Thou  knowest  not  now,  but  thou  shalt  know  hereafter." 
 
 /^\UR  life  is  like  a  ship  that  sails  some  day 
 
 To  distant  waters  leagues  on  leagues  away ; 
 Not  knowing  what  command  to  do  and  dare 
 Awaits  her  when  her  eager  keel  is  there. 
 
 Birth,  love,  and  death  are  ports  we  leave  behind, 
 Borne  on  by  rolling  wave  and  rushing  wind  ; 
 Bearing  a  message  with  unbroken  seal, 
 Whose  meaning  fain  we  would  at  once  reveal. 
 
 And  there  are  friends  that  stand  upon  the  shore 
 And  watch  our  sail  till  it  is  seen  no  more  ; 
 And  cry,  "  Oh,  would  that  we  might  know  the  way 
 The  brave  ship  goes  for  many  a  weary  day !  " 
 
 It  may  not  be.     But  ever  and  anon 
 Some  order,  sealed  at  first,  we  ope  and  con  j 
 So  learn  what  next,  so  east  or  westward  fly, 
 And  ne'er  again  that  port  of  birth  espy. 
 
 How  many  another  craft  goes  dancing  by  ! 
 What  pennants  float  from  morn  and  evening  sky ! 
 By  day  how  white  our  wake  behind  us  streams ! 
 By  night  what  golden  phosphorescent  gleams  ! 
 
*S9dfcg    uttivtiJs.tjJii'  jo  iwt.ntt A 
 -#w  aSuni  v  osw  *xoq  v  m  ooi  l\ 
 
 *SU3>iOIA! 
 
 -uojl— 
 
 S1N3S3M 
 
 AvanoH 
 
 'ut.to(i     'fivjpiioj    'uiqwr    ua 
 
 sainvioaas 
 
 •SKHSiraa  Hiaax 
 
 'srasiraa  SIVH 
 
 oiviina  (INV  XHOAI 
 
 'saraoo  oiVvMna 
 
 OKV  TIEHS  '*HOAI 
 'S3SVA  HOIH 
 
 'senso'ioo  xno 
 
 'SSOSHIK  3GLVM 
 
 'sasvo  dnissetki 
 
 'SIES  ITIIOJi 
 
 ■n/FAAA     TTT/TTrrrv 
 
GOWNS 
 
 —AND- 
 
 Morning  Robes. 
 
 ELEGANT 
 
 Breakfast  ai  Smoking 
 
 LOW    PRICES. 
 
 IDWARDl.  ALMY 
 &  CO., 
 
 6«  W\M SHIJVGTOJr— 622 
 
 Cor.  Essex  Street. 
 
 fEEKS  &  POTTER, 
 
 iO  Washington  St., 
 
 IMPORTERS  OF 
 
 RICH 
 
JOHN  WHITE   CHADWICK.  5*9 
 
 There  comes  a  day  when  Love,  that  lies  asleep 
 The  fairest  island  in  the  mighty  deep, 
 Wakes  on  our  sight.     Its  fragrant  shores  we  reach, 
 And  grates  our  keel  upon  its  shining  beach. 
 
 There  do  we  stay  awhile  ;  but  soon  again 
 We  trim  our  sails  to  seek  the  open  main  ; 
 And  now,  whatever  winds  and  waves  betide, 
 Two  friendly  ships  are  sailing  side  by  side. 
 
 Wrhere  lies  their  course  in  vain  they  seek  to  know. 
 "  Go  forth,"  the  Spirit  says,  and  forth  they  go  ; 
 Enough  that,  wheresoever  they  may  fare, 
 Alike  the  sunshine  and  the  storm  they  share. 
 
 Islands  that  none  e'er  visited  before 
 Invite  to  land  with  easy  shelving  shore ; 
 Circes  and  sirens  fling  their  challenge  out, 
 Charybdis  deafens  Scylla's  deafening  shout. 
 
 For  still  these  ships  keep  joyful  company, 
 And  many  a  new  strange  land  they  haste  to  see. 
 In  port  of  Love  'twas  pleasant  to  abide, 
 But  oh  !  Love's  sea  is  very  deep  and  wide. 
 
 Ay,  deep  and  wide,  and  yet  there  comes  a  day 
 When  these  fond  ships  must  sail  a  parted  way  ; 
 The  port  of  Death  doth  one  of  them  beguile, 
 The  other  lingers  for  a  little  while. 
 
 Lingers  as  near  as  she  may  dare  to  go, 
 And  plies  the  cold,  gray  offing  to  and  fro  ; 
 Waiting  impatient  for  the  high  command 
 To  sail  into  the  shadow  of  the  land. 
 
 Is  this  the  end  ?     I  know  it  cannot  be. 
 Our  ships  shall  sail  upon  another  sea  ; 
 New  islands  yet  shall  break  upon  our  sight, 
 New  continents  of  love  and  truth  and  might. 
 
520     SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 But  still  not  knowing,  still  with  orders  sealed, 
 Our  track  shall  lie  across  the  heavenly  field  ; 
 Yet  there,  as  here,  though  dim  the  distant  way, 
 Our  strength  shall  be  according  to  our  day. 
 
 The  sea  is  His,  He  made  it,  and  His  grace 
 Lurks  in  its  wildest  wave,  its  deepest  place  : 
 Our  truest  knowledge  is  that  He  is  wise ; 
 What  is  our  foresight  to  his  sweet  surprise  ! 
 
 ORDINATION  HYMN. 
 
 Written  for  the  ordination  of  Mrs.  Celia  Burleigh  as  pastor  of  the  Unitarian  Church  at 
 Brooklyn,  Conn.,  1871. 
 
 nPO  preach  Good  Tidings  !  this  the  call 
 
 Heard  by  thy  chosen  one  of  old ; 
 And  from  his  heart  the  tide  uprose, 
 And  from  his  lips  the  current  rolled. 
 
 To  preach  good  tidings  !  once  again 
 
 That  call  divine  is  heard  to-day  ; 
 And  to  obey  the  high  command 
 
 Thy  servant  here  is  on  her  way. 
 
 Tidings  of  faith  and  hope  she  brings,  — 
 
 Of  faith  that  cannot  doubt  or  fear, 
 But  in  the  darkest  hour  can  trust 
 
 A  loving  Father  ever  near. 
 
 Of  hope  for  all  who  live  or  die, 
 
 For  all  who  sin  or  suffer  pain ; 
 That  all  who  here  must  say  farewell, 
 
 May  somehow,  somewhere,  meet  again. 
 
 Tidings  of  love  from  God  to  man  ; 
 
 Of  human  love  that  makes  reply 
 Of  man  for  man,  of  each  for  all, 
 
 Here  and  for  evermore  on  high. 
 
 O  Father  !  may  her  word  be  blest 
 To  all  who  love  this  sacred  place  ; 
 
 Here  may  they  learn  to  love  thy  law, 
 And  here  rejoice  to  see  thy  face. 
 
JOHN  WHITE   CHADWICK.  521 
 
 SADNESS   AND   GLADNESS. 
 
 HPHERE  was  a  glory  in  my  house, 
 
 And  it  is  fled  ; 
 There  was  a  baby  at  my  heart, 
 And  it  is  dead. 
 
 And  when  I  sit  and  think  of  him, 
 
 I  am  so  sad, 
 That  half  it  seems  that  nevermore 
 
 Can  I  be  glad. 
 
 If  you  had  known  this  baby  mine, 
 
 He  was  so  sweet 
 You  would  have  gone  a  journey  just 
 
 To  kiss  his  feet. 
 
 He  could  not  walk  a  single  step, 
 
 Nor  speak  a  word  ; 
 But  then  he  was  as  blithe  and  gay 
 
 As  any  bird 
 
 That  ever  sat  on  orchard-bough 
 
 And  trilled  its  song, 
 Until  the  listener  fancied  it 
 
 As  sweet  and  strong 
 
 As  if  from  lips  of  angels  he 
 Had  heard  it  flow,  — 
 
 Such  angels  as  thy  hand  could  paint, 
 Angelico  ! 
 
 You  cannot  think  how  many  things 
 
 He  learned  to  know, 
 Before  the  swift,  swift  angel  came 
 
 And  bade  him  go. 
 
 So  that  my  neighbors  said  of  him, 
 
 He  was  so  wise 
 That  he  was  never  meant  for  earth, 
 
 But  for  the  skies. 
 
522     SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 But  I  would  not  believe  a  word 
 
 Of  what  they  said  ; 
 Nor  will  I,  even  now,  although 
 
 My  boy  is  dead  ; 
 
 For  God  would  be  most  wicked,  if, 
 
 When  all  the  earth 
 Is  in  the  travail  of  a  new 
 
 And  heavenly  birth, 
 
 As  often  as  a  little  Christ  is  found 
 
 With  human  breath, 
 He,  like  another  Herod,  should  resolve 
 
 Upon  its  death. 
 
 But  should  you  ask  me  how  it  is 
 That  yours  can  stay, 
 •     Though  mine  must  spread  his  little  wings 
 And  fly  away,    . 
 
 I  could  but  say  that  God,  who  made 
 
 This  heart  of  mine, 
 Must  have  intended  that  its  love 
 
 Should  be  the  sign 
 
 Of  his  own  love  ;  and  that  if  he 
 
 Can  think  it  right 
 To  turn  my  joy  to  sorrow,  and 
 
 My  day  to  night, 
 
 I  cannot  doubt  that  he  will  turn 
 
 In  other  ways 
 My  winter-darkness  to  the  light 
 
 Of  "Summer-days. 
 
 I  know  that  God  gives  nothing  to 
 
 Us  for  a  day  ; 
 That  what  he  gives  he  cannot  bear 
 
 To  take  away. 
 
JOILY  WHITE   CHADUTCK.  523 
 
 And  when  he  comes  and  seems  to  make 
 
 Our  glory  less, 
 It  is  that  by  and  by  we  may 
 
 The  more  confess 
 
 That  he  has  made  it  brighter  than 
 
 It  was  before,  — 
 A  glory  shining  on  and  on 
 
 For  evermore. 
 
 And  when  I  sit  and  think  of  this, 
 
 I  am  so  glad, 
 That  half  it  seems  that  nevermore 
 
 Can  I  be  sad. 
 
 AFTER   SWEET   SINGING.* 
 
 "Consider  the  lilies." 
 
 T  THINK  if  he  who  spake  that  blessed  word 
 Had  sat  with  us  this  summer-morning  hour, 
 
 And  heard  thy  tones,  so  full  of  music's  power, 
 He  would  have  thought  some  mellow-throated  bird, 
 The  praise  of  his  sweet  kin  just  having  heard, 
 
 Had  echoed  back  the  praise  of  bird  and  flower 
 
 From  where  he  listened  in  his  leafy  bower, 
 So  giving  thanks  for  honor  high  conferred. 
 
 I  think  that  if  the  birds  themselves  should  hear 
 Across  this  air,  so  sweet  with  lilies  made, 
 
 Thy  cheery  notes  ring  out  so  fresh  and  clear, 
 While  all  their  own  are  hushed  till  evening's  shade, 
 They,  too,  would  wonder  from  what  song-bird  rare 
 Came  such  a  song,  so  sweet  beyond  compare. 
 
 *  From  the  "Christian  Union." 
 
524  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 ANOTHER  YEAR. 
 
 HTHAT  this  shall  be  a  better  year 
 
 Than  any  past  away, 
 I  dare  not  at  its  open  door 
 To  wish  or  hope,  or  pray. 
 
 Not  that  the  years  already  gone 
 
 Were  wearisome  and  lone  ; 
 That  so  with  hope  too  long  deferred 
 
 My  heart  has  timid  grown. 
 
 Nay  ;  rather  that  they  all  have  been 
 
 So  sweet  to  me  and  good, 
 That  if  for  better  I  should  ask 
 
 'Twould  seem  ingratitude. 
 
 And  so  with  things  far  off  and  strange 
 
 I  do  not  care  to  cope, 
 But  look  in  Memory's  face  and  learn 
 
 What  largess  I  may  hope. 
 
 Another  year  of  setting  suns, 
 
 Of  stars  by  night  revealed, 
 Of  springing  grass,  of  tender  buds 
 
 By  Winter's  snow  concealed. 
 
 Another  year  of  summer's  glow, 
 Of  autumn's  gold  and  brown, 
 
 Of  waving  fields,  and  ruddy  fruit 
 The  branches  weighing  down. 
 
 Another  year  of  happy  work, 
 
 That  better  is  than  play  ; 
 Of  simple  cares  and  love  that  grows 
 
 More  sweet  from  clay  to  day. 
 
 Another  year  of  baby-mirth, 
 And  childhood's  blessed  ways, 
 
 Of  thinker's  thought  and  prophet's  dream 
 And  poet's  tender  lays. 
 
CHARLES  II.  A.   DALL.  5-5 
 
 Another  year  at  Beauty's  feast 
 
 At  every  moment  spread, 
 Of  silent  hours  when  grow  distinct 
 
 The  voices  of  the  dead. 
 
 Another  year  to  follow  hard 
 
 Where  better  souls  have  trod  ; 
 Another  year  of  life's  delight, 
 
 Another  year  of  God. 
 
 CHARLES    SUMNER. 
 
 "  Si  monumentum  requiris,  circumspice." 
 
 A  Y,  look  around  ;  but  thou  mayst  not  behold 
 
 Aught  built  of  stone,  and  carved  magnificent, 
 With  dome  or  spire  high  up  towards  heaven  sent, 
 
 And  blazoned  all  with  crimson  and  with  gold. 
 
 By  no  such  wonders  can  his  worth  be  told  ; 
 Not  such  indeed  shall  be  his  monument, 
 Our  Statesman,  who  upon  God's  errands  went, 
 
 For  freedom's  sake  the  boldest  of  the  bold. 
 But  look  around,  and  say  what  thou  dost  see  \ 
 
 Or  think  it  solemnly  with  bated  breath  : 
 A  nation  with  no  man  who  is  not  free  ; 
 
 A  nation  living  after  years  of  death  ; 
 And  yet  to  live  a  life  more  pure  and  high 
 Because  this  man  for  her  could  live  and  die. 
 
 >:-*:< 
 
 THE   DALLS. 
 
 Rev.  Charles  II.  A.  DALL,  son  of  James  Dall,  of  Boston,  and  Hen- 
 rietta (Austin)  Dall,  of  New  Haven,  was  born  in  Baltimore,  Md.,  and  is 
 of  Scotch  descent,  three  generations  of  the  family  having  lived  in  this 
 country.  He  graduated  at  Harvard  College  in  1S37,  went  to  St.  Louis 
 with  Rev.    William   G.  Eliot,   and  then,   after  having  spent  a  year  in 
 
526  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 Europe,  was  Minister  at  Large  in  Baltimore.  Leaving  Baltimore  at  the 
 end  of  three  years  on  account  of  ill-health,  he  was  settled  successively 
 at  Portsmouth,  N.H.,  Needham,  Mass.,  and  Toronto,  Canada.  His 
 zeal  in  missionary  work,  together  with  the  necessity  of  seeking  some 
 more  congenial  climate,  took  him,  in  February,  1855,  to  Calcutta,  India, 
 where  he  has  since  remained  in  the  service  of  the  American  Unitarian 
 Association,  and  at  the  head  of  the  Mott  Street  Art  School,  earnestly 
 laboring  for  nearly  twenty  years  to  teach  the  natives  in  various  branches 
 of  knowledge,  and  to  disseminate  far  and  wide  the  views  and  sentiments 
 of  a  Liberal  Faith.  With  this  object  in  view,  he  has  from  time  to  time 
 visited  different  parts  of  -the  country,  and  circulated  copies  of  hundreds 
 of  his  sermons  and  lectures.  He  has  also  written  many  fine  hymns  and 
 poems,  some  of  which  have  been  published  in  our  periodicals,  and  a  few 
 of  which  we  present  here. 
 
 AFTER  A  STORM  IN  THE  BAY  OF  BENGAL. 
 
 From  the  "  Monthly  Magazine." 
 
 f~\  GOD,  who  dwellest  in  the  surging  sea  ! 
 ^^^     Thy  glorious  beauty  shines  for  ever  there  : 
 From  ocean's  vales,  where  grows  the  coral-tree, 
 Up  to  its  dancing  peaks  that  kiss  the  air,  — 
 In  all,  through  all,  thy  mystic  love  is  blent, 
 Clothes  its  dark  plain  and  stars  its  firmament ! 
 
 Oh  !  it  is  life,  'tis  joy,  'tis  ecstasy 
 
 To  sit,  dear  Father  !  face  to  face  with  thee  ; 
 
 To  hear  thee  whisper  in  the  ocean's  roar ; 
 
 To  watch  thy  finger  turn  its  billows  o'er, 
 
 To  mark  thy  hand,  what  time  the  tempest  lowers, 
 
 Crown  all  its  leaping  heights  with  almond-flowers. 
 
 How  shall  I  bless  thee,  that  the  lonely  Sea 
 
 For  ever  hides  its  loneliness  from  me  ! 
 
 Lives  to  my  thought  and  sense,  gives  to  my  eye 
 
 God  walking  'mid  a  floral  pageantry ; 
 
 God  bidding  snow-capped  mountains  leap  like  rams, 
 
 And  toying  with  these  little  hills  like  lambs ! 
 
CHARLES  H.   A.   BALL.  S?7 
 
 THE    SOUTHERN    CROSS. 
 
 "DEARING  the  Saviour's  story 
 
 O'er  many  a  league  of  flood, 
 'Neath  Afric's  sky  of  glory, 
 
 In  midnight  prayer  I  stood, 
 While  other  constellations 
 
 The  Southern  Cross  outshone, 
 And  said,  "  Go  teach  all  nations 
 
 The  Cross,  that  wins  the  Crown.' 
 
 "  Take,  Lord  !  oh,  my  Defender  !  " 
 
 The  grateful  herald  prayed,  — 
 "  My  uttermost  surrender 
 
 Of  heart  and  hand  and  head !  " 
 "  The  cross  of  suffering,  wear  it,"  — 
 
 Came  whispered  o'er  the  sea :  — 
 "  Fear  not,  for  thou  canst  bear  it : 
 
 "  Christ  bore  it  once  for  thee." 
 
 HUNGER   AND   THIRST. 
 
 "D  EJOICE  and  be  exceeding  glad, 
 
 Thou  heart,  that  seekest  all  things  here 
 Only  to  find  them  void,  —  and  thou 
 Still  hungering  for  a  better  cheer. 
 
 Oh,  blessed  thirst  for  righteousness  ! 
 
 Oh,  hunger  for  the  true  and  good  ! 
 The  fountain  never  groweth  less  : 
 
 God  is  thy  drink,  —  his  love  thy  food  ! 
 
 IN    THY    LIGHT    SHALL   WE    SEE    LIGHT 
 
 /^\UR  wisest  wisdom's  chosen  gate 
 
 Thou  never  yet  hast  shut,  O  God, 
 But  lo  !  another  opened  straight 
 To  win  us  to  a  better  road. 
 
528  SONGS  OF   THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 Too  ready  rose  our  wilful  thought 
 To  doubt  the  mystery  of  thy  will, 
 
 Until  our  own  experience  taught,  — 
 Thine  ill  was  good,  our  good  was  ill. 
 
 Our  wishes  fail  us,  one  by  one  ; 
 
 Our  darling  joy  brings  bitter  pain  ; 
 Thy  will  for  evermore  be  done, 
 
 And  never,  never  ours  again. 
 
 DEATH. 
 
 For  a  little  child. 
 
 /^.OD  cannot  die : 
 
 Then  why  should  I, 
 His  child,  believe  in  dying  ? 
 
 To  him  I  so 
 
 Do  long  to  go, 
 I'm  praying  while  I'm  crying. 
 
 Of  stars  and  flowers 
 
 And  happy  hours 
 And  soft-winged  angels  playing, 
 
 I  nightly  dream  ; 
 
 And  daily  seem 
 To  hear  what  they  are  saying. 
 
 Though  Death  have  pain, 
 
 It  has  a  gain 
 Exceeding  all  its  sorrow : 
 
 See,  angels  stay 
 
 While  I  delay,  — 
 And  you  will  come  to-morrow  ! 
 
CHARLES  H.   A.   DALL.  529 
 
 The  following  hymn  is  from  Bulfinch's  "  Harp  and  Cross  :  "  — 
 THE    POWER    OF    TRUTH. 
 
 14  As  for  truth,  it  endureth,  and  is  always  strong :  it  liveth  and  conquereth  for  ^v?r  nore  " 
 1  Esukas  iv.  38. 
 
 QREAT  is  the  earth,  O  God  ! 
 But  mightier  still  is  truth  ; 
 As  thou  endurest,  so  it  stands 
 Strong  in  eternal  youth. 
 
 High  is  the  pure,  blue  heaven  ; 
 
 Truth  is  as  pure  and  high  ; 
 All  angels  bless  thy  righteousness, 
 
 All  men  repeat  the  cry. 
 
 Unerring  flies  the  sun, 
 
 But  truth  is  surer  yet ; 
 The  nations,  quickened  in  its  course, 
 
 Shall  live,  ere  truth  is  set. 
 
 Transient  are  human  works, 
 
 Imperfect  human  thought ; 
 We  perish  in  unrighteousness, 
 
 If  truth  inspire  us  not. 
 
 Christ  yesterday,  to-day, 
 
 For  ever, — conquers,  lives  ; 
 Christ  is  thy  truth  and  power  for  aye  ; 
 
 'Tis  Christ  thy  kingdom  gives. 
 
 No  truth  but  is  in  him, 
 
 He  claims  no  greatness  else  ; 
 The  majesty  of  ages,  he 
 
 Comes  in  the  truth  he  tells. 
 
 34 
 
530  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 Mrs.  Caroline  H.  Dall,  wife  of  Rev.  Charles  H.  A.  Dall,  was 
 Caroline  Wells  Healey,  daughter  of  Mark  and  Caroline  (Foster)  Healey. 
 She  was  born  in  Green  Street,  Boston,  in  which  city  her  father  was  a 
 prominent  India  merchant.  Inheriting  the  blood  of  many  of  the  old 
 Massachusetts-Bay  families,  of  Winthrop,  Dudley,  Rogers,  Bradstreet, 
 and  Symonds,  she  traces  her  lineage  back  through  an  almost  unbroken 
 line  of  clergymen  for  fully  three  centuries,  and  numbers  among  her 
 ancestors,  on  both  sides,  William  Whittingham,  the  translator  of  the 
 Geneva  Bible,  and  Katharine  Jacqueman  his  wife,  heiress  of  Turvyle 
 and  Gouteron,  whose  only  sister  was  Idolette  de  Bure,  the  wife  of 
 John  Calvin.  She  early  learned  the  modern  languages,  and  began  to 
 write  for  the  newspapers  when  only  thirteen  years  of  age.  Her  first 
 book,  consisting  of  moral  and  religious  essays  which  she  had  used  in 
 the  course  of  Sunday  school  instruction,  was  published  in  1849,  and  was 
 written  when  she  was  but  eighteen.  She  was  married  to  Mr.  Dall  while 
 he  was  minister  at  Baltimore,  where  with  him  she  became  much  inter- 
 ested in  the  slaves,  made  a  first  census  of  the  free  colored  people  of  the 
 district  in  which  she  resided,  taught  the  negroes  how  to  read,  and  con- 
 tributed articles  on  the  general  subject  to  the  Northern  journals.  She 
 began  her  annual  contributions  to  the  "  Liberty  Bell "  in  1850;  at  To- 
 ronto, was  correspondent  editor  of  the  "Una,"  a  woman's  paper,  pub- 
 lished at  Providence,  R.I.,  and  was  the  agent  of  a  society  for  assisting 
 fugitives  from  slavery  ;  in  1855  aided  in  calling  a  Convention  at  Boston 
 to  discuss  the  Rights  of  Woman,  and  brought  in  a  Report  on  the  laws 
 relating  thereto  of  the  several  New-England  States ;  and  afterward, 
 during  successive  winters,  gave  series  of  lectures  upon  topics  connected 
 with  the  new  reform,  that  were  first  given  to  the  press  in  various  small 
 books,  and  that  were  still  later  collected,  revised,  and  enlarged,  and 
 issued  by  Lee  &  Shepard  in  a  single  volume,  under  the  title,  "  The  Col- 
 lege, the  Market,  and  the  Court ;  or,  Woman's  Relation  to  Education, 
 Labor,  and  Law."  Her  other  works  are  a  "  Life  of  Marie  E.  Zakrzewska, 
 M.D.  ;  "  "  Historical  Pictures  Retouched  ;  "  "Sunshine  :  A  New  Name 
 for  a  Popular  Lecture  on  Health ; "  and  "  Egypt's  Place  in  History."  The 
 last  is  a  pamphlet  in  which  the  authoress  gives  a  concise  statement  of 
 the  results  of  Bunsen's  herculean  labors  as  they  are  presented  in  his 
 great  work  bearing  the  same  title. 
 
 In  addition  to  these  philanthropic  labors  and  literary  productions, 
 are  to  be  mentioned  her  continued  interest  and  service  in  Sunday  Schools, 
 her  life-long  devotion  to  the  poor  and  suffering  children  in  Boston,  her 
 instruction  of  classes  of  adults  in  Philology,  Biblical  Criticism,  Shake- 
 speare, and  Herodotus,  her  agency  in  the  formation  of  the  Social  Science 
 Association,  her  frequent  preaching  in  Unitarian  pulpits,  and  her  numer- 
 ous lectures  and  periodical  contributions  other  than  those  which  have 
 been  referred  to.  Her  writings  attest  her  superior  intellectual  ability  and 
 her  ample  range  of  learning,  while  she  is  a  recognized  leader  in  organized 
 
CAROLINE  H.  DALL.  53 1 
 
 charities,  and  in  various  other  enterprises  or  movements  that  seek  the 
 general  welfare.  She  still  continues  her  work  of  usefulness  in  the  city 
 in  which  she  was  born,  and  in  which  she  has  resided  since  her  husband 
 went  to  India. 
 
 Like  so  many  others  of  whom  we  have  given  some  account  in  this 
 volume,  and  who  are  known  chiefly  as  prose  writers,*  Mrs.  Dall  has 
 given  us  some  good  verses.  The  first  of  our  selections  is  a  very  pleasing 
 poem  suggested  to  the  authoress  by  the  prattle  of  her  Willie,  when  he 
 was  four  years  old,  and  entitled,  — 
 
 WHAT   A   BLUE-BIRD    SAID   TO   A    LITTLE   BOY. 
 
 "  TT7HAT  do  you  say  to  God,  little  bird, 
 
 In  the  morning  soft  and  gray, 
 When  with  music  sweet  you  welcome  in 
 The  coming  of  the  day  ?  "  • 
 
 "  I  thank  him  for  all  my  happy  rest 
 
 By  the  side  of  my  tender  mate ; 
 For  the  soft  and  mossy  bed  in  my  nest 
 
 Close  by  your  garden-gate." 
 
 "  What  do  you  say  to  God,  little  bird, 
 When  the  noonday  sun  shines  bright, 
 
 When  you  hide  in  the  forest  green,  away 
 From  the  hot  and  quivering  light  ?  " 
 
 "  I  thank  him  for  four  little  spotted  eggs, 
 Lying  warm  at  their  mother's  heart ; 
 
 For  the  patient  trust  with  which  she  waits 
 Till  her  young  into  being  start." 
 
 "  What  do  you  say  to  God,  little  bird, 
 When  you  sing  your  evening  hymn, 
 
 When  you  see  the  red  sun  sink  in  the  west, 
 And  my  little  eyes  grow  dim  ?  " 
 
 '•  I  thank  him  for  all  my  fine  fat  worms, 
 
 For  my  beetles  large  and  rare  ; 
 And  I  pray  that  he  may  never  cease 
 
 To  make  little  birds  his  care  !  " 
 
532  SONGS  OF   THE  LIBERAL   FAITH. 
 
 "  What  do  you  say  to  God,  little  bird, 
 When  the  April  showers  come  down, 
 
 When  the  south  wind  moans  among  the  trees, 
 And  the  stormy  heavens  frown  ?  " 
 
 "  I  thank  him  for  drink,  and  for  feathers  warm, 
 And  I  smooth  my  ruffled  coat ; 
 
 And  I'm  glad  I've  wings  to  cut  the  air, 
 When  the  earth  is  all  afloat." 
 
 "  But  what  do  you  say  all  the  time,  little  bird, 
 
 For  your  voice  is  never  still  ? 
 And  in  forest  and  meadow  I  never  miss 
 
 The  sound  of  its  happy  trill. 
 
 "  I  can  never  sing  enough,  little  boy, 
 When  my  little  ones  break  their  shell, 
 
 And  my  tired  mate  chirps  with  joy  to  see 
 Her  nurslings  all  hearty  and  well. 
 
 "  I  can  never  say  enough,  little  boy  : 
 
 I  was  only  made  to  sing. 
 If  I  cannot  work,  I  must  make  the  aisles 
 
 Of  the  grand  old  forest  ring  !  " 
 
 "  But  sweeter  far  is  the  music  of  deeds,  — 
 Your  kind  Father  listens  above  ; 
 
 And,  while  he  provides  for  your  hourly  needs, 
 Go  labor  and  win  his  dear  love." 
 
 THE    OLD    RED    ROCK. 
 
 "  Behold,  we  count  them  happy  which  endure." 
 
 HPHE  old  reel  rock  tempts  the  salt  sea-wave, 
 
 A  shapeless  mass  at  the  first  ; 
 About  it  the  white  foam  gently  plays, 
 And  the  storm-tost  billows  burst. 
 
i864. 
 
 CAROLINE  II.  DALL.  533 
 
 The  shapeless  rock  is  a  steadfast  thing, 
 
 And  the  tide  to  its  motion  is  true. 
 A  sacrectlaw  binds  the  first  to  its  bed, 
 
 That  the  second  its  work  may  do. 
 
 So  out  of  the  waiting,  the  mist,  and  the  pain 
 
 Is  born  a  fair  outline  at  last  ; 
 And  eyes  may  rest  where  glad  curves  sweep 
 
 No  limit  of  God  overpast. 
 
 The  rock  never  yields,  the  wave  never  lulls, 
 Both  ceaselessly  strive  through  the  day  ; 
 
 And  out  of  the  conflict  the  soft  lines  are  born, 
 Strength  smiting  a  charm  from  the  spray. 
 
 So  believe  me,  beloved,  the  soul  shall  grow  fair 
 
 If  it  patiently  welcome  its  pain; 
 If,  jagged  and  flinty,  it  patiently  bear 
 
 God's  billows  again  and  again. 
 
 AT   A    DEATH-BED. 
 
 |~"\EAR  eyes  that  never  looked  reproach 
 
 Dear  lips  that  always  smiled, 
 Dear  heart  of  grace,  that  never  lacked 
 The  sweet  thought  of  a  child  ! 
 
 How  shall  my  life  go  on,  when  yours 
 
 Is  wrapped  in  fuller  light  ? 
 How  dream  a  sun  shall  ever  rise 
 
 Upon  so  drear  a  night  ? 
 
 "  Come,  lead  me,"  once  you  gently  said, 
 
 "  Lead  onward  to  the  end  : 
 Putting  my  hand  in  yours,  I  see 
 
 My  lather  is  my  Friend." 
 
 My  flailing,  I  am  led  in  turn 
 Along  the  sweet  green  way; 
 
 -  God  for  all  the  light  you  give 
 With  thoughts  that  never  straw 
 
534  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 Close  to  that  Father's  arm  you  cling, 
 Your  dear  eyes  seek  his  face, 
 
 Your  loving  lips  still  chant  his  praise, 
 Your  heart  accepts  his  grace. 
 
 My  darling,  as  I  see  you  go, 
 
 I  scarce  can  stay  alone  : 
 The  glory  from  the  Godhead  draws 
 
 Both  waiting  spirits  on. 
 
 Good-night !  we  say  who  linger  here  ; 
 
 But  you,  a  glad  Good-morrow  ! 
 
 The  joy  that  angels  feel,  you  know,  — 
 
 Their  peace  we  feebly  borrow. 
 1869 
 
 William  Cranch  Healey  Dall,  oldest  child  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dall, 
 above  mentioned,  was  born  in  the  house  of  his  grandfather,  in  Temple 
 Street,  Boston,  Aug.  21,  1845.  He  was  educated  chiefly  at  home,  and  at 
 the  Brimmer  School.  He  was  the  youngest  member  ever  elected  into  the 
 Boston  Society  of  Natural  History.  He  left  home  for  Chicago  at  a  very 
 early  age,  and  in  1865  went  with  Robert  Kennicott  to  Alaska.  After  the 
 purchase  of  that  territory,  he  pursued  the  plans  of  Mr.  Kennicott,  who 
 had  died,  and  published,  on  his  return  in  1869,  his  well-known  work  on 
 Alaska,  profusely  illustrated  from  his  own  drawings.  He  has  written 
 more  than  eighty  scientific  monographs,  and  is  at  present  in  the  Aleutian 
 Islands,  employed  by  the  United  States  Coast  Survey.  With  his  de- 
 cided talent  for  such  labors,  he  unites  no  small  share  of  the  poet's  gift, 
 as  we  think  these  few  selections  from  his  verses  sufficiently  show. 
 
 GOD'S    HARVEST. 
 
 TN  passing  through  the  harvest-field, 
 
 One  bright  September  morn, 
 I  saw  them  binding  up  the  sheaves,  — 
 The  poppies  with  the  corn. 
 
 The  florid  crimson  petals  lay 
 
 Half  wilted  and  forlorn  : 
 "  Why  dost  thou  bind,  I  fain  would  ask, 
 
 These  poppies  with  the  corn  ?  " 
 
WILLIAM  C.   H.   DALL.  535 
 
 No  answer  gave  the  busy  swain,  — 
 
 While  asking,  he  was  gone  ; 
 And  still  the  sturdy  reapers  bound 
 
 The  poppies  with  the  corn. 
 
 I  mused  upon  the  harvests  fled 
 
 Since  I  a  babe  was  born  ; 
 And  thought  how  I  had  also  bound 
 
 The  poppies  with  my  corn  ! 
 
 And  when  to  gather  in  his  seed 
 
 The  Reaper  sounds  his  horn, 
 Shall  flaunting  weeds  or  fruitful  ears 
 
 Make  up  my  store  of  corn  ? 
 
 Alas  !  reflecting  on  my  way, 
 
 My  soul  with  anguish  torn, 
 I  own  my  sheaf  of  crimson  dark, 
 
 The  poppies  hide  the  corn  ! 
 
 Yet  if,  in  weary,  conscious  fear 
 
 The  scanty  ears  I  mourn, 
 I  dare  to  hope  God  too  may  bind 
 
 Some  poppies  with  His  corn. 
 
 "IT    IS    I:    BE    NOT  AFRAID." 
 
 ^HRIST  will  gather  in  his  own 
 
 To  the  place  where  he  has  gone, 
 Where  our  heart  and  treasure  lie, 
 Where  our  Life  is  hid  on  high. 
 
 Day  by  day  the  voice  cries,  "  Come, 
 Enter  thine  eternal  home," 
 Asking  not  if  we  can  spare 
 The  dear  soul  it  summons  there. 
 
536  SONGS  OF  THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 Had  God  asked  us,  well  we  know 
 We  should  murmur,  "  Spare  this  blow  :  " 
 Yes,  with  streaming  tears  should  pray, 
 "  Lord,  we  love  him  :  let  him  stay  !  " 
 
 But  the  Lord  does  naught  amiss  ; 
 And,  since  he  hath  ordered  this, 
 We  our  restless  hearts  must  still, 
 Wait  in  silence  on  his  will. 
 
 Many  a  friend  no  longer  here, 
 To  the  soul  was  all  too  clear  : 
 Yet,  O  Love  !  'tis  thou  dost  call,  — 
 Thou  wilt  be  our  All  in  all. 
 
 THE    GRAVE    OF   AGASSIZ. 
 
 /^PEN  your  gates,  O  grave  ! 
 
 Make  broad  your  passage-way  ! 
 The  form  for  which  we  ask  a  place 
 Is  not  of  common  clay : 
 The  fertile  brain,  the  silver  tongue, 
 The  genial  voice  which  we 
 Rejoiced  to  hear,  are  still. 
 We  bring  our  Agassiz. 
 
 Chant  in  the  pines,  ye  winds ! 
 
 Murmur,  ye  waters  deep  ! 
 
 The  searcher  of  your  heights  and  depths 
 
 Lies  in  his  last  calm  sleep. 
 
 The  seeker  after  truth  and  light, 
 
 The  reader  of  the  past, 
 
 The  leader  in  incessant  work, 
 
 Has  found  his  rest  at  last. 
 
 Ye  rustling,  dying  leaves, 
 
 Drop  gently  o'er  his  tomb  ; 
 
 Ye  creatures,  whom  in  life  he  loved, 
 
 In  reverent  silence  come. 
 
WILLIAM   C.   II.    I), ILL.  S37 
 
 Pupils,  who  by  his  earnest  life 
 And  burning  words  were  fed, 
 Gather  around  this  silent  dust 
 In  honor  to  the  dead. 
 
 Earth,  in  thy  bosom  sweet, 
 And  soft  brown  mantle,  fold 
 The  ashes  of  the  sage  who  taught 
 That  truth  is  more  than  gold. 
 Leave  to  the  warrior's  head 
 The  vaunted  laurel-crown  : 
 Be  lilies  wet  and  violets 
 Upon  this  grave  laid  clown  ! 
 
 SCATTERED. 
 
 'T^HE  sun  is  set,  the  silver  moon 
 A  chastened  radiance  flings 
 O'er  rock  and  ripple,  wave  and  hill  ; 
 And  the  calm  evening,  bright  and  still, 
 A  train  of  musing  brings. 
 
 In  India's  hot  and  sultry  clime, 
 
 For  India's  tawny  race, 
 A  father  gives  his  strength  and  life, 
 Parts  from  his  country,  home,  and  wife, 
 
 To  spread  the  Gospel's  grace. 
 
 On  Massachusetts'  friendly  shore, 
 
 For  her  sad  sisterhood, 
 A  wife  employs  her  busy  pen, 
 Teaching  how  side  by  side  with  men 
 
 Its  work  shall  yet  stand  good. 
 
 In  Northern  regions  bleak  and  bare, 
 O'er  rock  and  sea  and  snow, 
 
538  SONGS  OF   THE  LIBERAL  FAITH. 
 
 The  son  for  wisdom  seeks,  and  braves 
 The  arctic  cold  and  hostile  waves, 
 Some  Nature -truth  to  know. 
 
 Knowledge  to  gain  and  truth  to  tell, 
 
 Near  home  or  far  abroad, — 
 This  service  brings  no  meed  of  gold  : 
 Work  will  its  own  pure  joys  unfold, 
 Though  rugged  be  the  road  ! 
 
 EXCELSIOR. 
 
 /^VNWARD  and  upward,  be  the  motto  mine  ! 
 
 ^^     Better  with  action  than  with  rust  to  wear  ; 
 
 Shaking  off  sloth,  to  tread  a  path  divine, 
 To  breathe  an  atmosphere  of  purer  air, 
 
 Where  granite-peaks  their  rugged  sides  incline. 
 But  glorious  sunshine  wraps  those  summits  bare, 
 And  God's  own  presence  seems  to  linger  there. 
 
ALPHABETICAL   INDEX   OF   AUTHORS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Adams,  John  Ouincy 9 
 
 Alger,  William  Rounseville 469 
 
 Bartol,  Cyrus  Augustus 347 
 
 Brooks,  Charles  T 353 
 
 Brown,  Francis 153 
 
 Bryant.  William  Cullen 114 
 
 Bui.finch,  Stephen  Greenleaf 238 
 
 Burleigh,  William  Henry 315 
 
 Chadwick.  John  White 517 
 
 Chest.ro,  Frances  Mayo 484 
 
 Clarke,  James  Freeman 283 
 
 Collyer,  Robert 476 
 
 Dall.  Caroline  Healy 530 
 
 Dall.  Charles  H.  A 525 
 
 Dall.  William  C.  H 534 
 
 Davis.  John 3 
 
 Davis,  Samuel 7 
 
 Davis,  William  T 8 
 
 Everett,  William 504 
 
 Fields.  James  Thomas 437 
 
 Flint,  James 21 
 
 Follen,  Eliza  Lee 55 
 
 Freeman,  James 1 
 
 Frothtngham,  Nathaniel  Langdon ?j 
 
 Frothing  ham,  Oct  a  vi  us  Brooks 454 
 
 Furness,  William  Henry 159 
 
540       ALPHABETICAL  INDEX  OF  AUTHORS. 
 
 PAGn 
 
 Gannett,  William  Channing 510 
 
 Gilman,  Caroline 76 
 
 Gilman,  Samuel '.  72 
 
 Gray,  Thomas,  Jr 171 
 
 Hale,  Mary  Whitwell 261 
 
 Hall,  Louisa  Jane 155 
 
 Hedge,  Frederic  Henry 205 
 
 Higginson,  Thomas  Wentworth 478 
 
 Hill,  Thomas 410 
 
 Holmes,  Oliver  Wendell 252 
 
 Johnson,  Samuel 445 
 
 Laighton,  Albert 489 
 
 llvermore,  abiel  abbot 312 
 
 Livermore,  Sarah  White 61 
 
 Longfellow,  Henry  Wads  worth 217 
 
 Longfellow,  Samuel 428 
 
 Lowe,  Martha  Perry 497 
 
 Lunt,  William  Parsons 194 
 
 Mason,  Caroline  Atherton 456 
 
 Miles,  Sarah  Elizabeth 232 
 
 Newell,  William 177 
 
 Norton,  Andrews 46 
 
 Osgood,  George.    .■ 383 
 
 Palfrey,  Sara  Hammond 501 
 
 Parker,  Theodore 294 
 
 Peabody,  Oliver  W.  B 152 
 
 Peabody,  William  B.  0 137 
 
 Pierpont,  John 28 
 
 Pray,  Lewis  Glover 81 
 
 Richardson,  James,  Jr 376 
 
 Robbins,  Chandler 303 
 
 Robbins,  Samuel  Dowse 323 
 
 Sears,  Edmund  Hamilton 305 
 
 Sprague,  Charles 64 
 
 St.  John,  A.  R 189 
 
 Sumner,  Samuel  Barrett 130 
 
ALPHABETICAL  INDEX  OF  AUTHORS.  541 
 
 r  \<;k 
 
 Very,  Jones 335 
 
 Very,  Lydia  L.  A 466 
 
 Very,  Washington 373 
 
 Ware,  Henry,  Jr 103 
 
 Waterston,  Anna  C.  L 406 
 
 Water ston,  Robert  Cassie 390 
 
 Weidemeyer,  John  W 424 
 
 Weiss,  John 419 
 
 Whitney,  Frederick  Augustus 331 
 
 Willard,  Samuel 14 
 
INDEX   OF    FIRST    LINES. 
 
 PACE 
 
 Abide  not  in  the  realm  of  dreams 321 
 
 Above  the  storms  and  thunder  jars 310 
 
 A  cloud  flits  o'er  the  youthful  brow 80 
 
 Again,  as  evening's  shadow  falls 436 
 
 A  holy  air  is  breathing  round 313 
 
 Ah  !  this  life  is  full  of  danger 170 
 
 Alas  !  how  swift  the  moments  fly 13 
 
 All-glorious  Lord  of  heaven  and  earth      .     .     .     .    • 26 
 
 All  hail  the  smiling  rays 16 
 
 All  is  of  God  !     If  he  but  wave  his  hand 228 
 
 All  Nature's  works  His  praise  declare 106 
 
 All  praise  to  Him  of  Nazareth 122 
 
 All-seeing  One  !  whose  presence  fills 332 
 
 All  that  in  this  wide  world  we  see 120 
 
 All  the  clays  of  my  life,  be  they  many  or  few 1S6 
 
 Almighty  Father  !  condescend 64 
 
 Almighty  Father  !  thou  didst  frame 50S 
 
 Almighty  Power,  whose  word  and  will  sustain 191 
 
 Along  Time's  river,  —  like  a  soul  unborn 503 
 
 A  memory  of  vanished  dreams 422 
 
 A  mighty  fortress  is  our  God 214 
 
 And  when  the  Ancient  Mariner  shall  see 204 
 
 Another  day  its  course  hath  run 31 
 
 Another  year,  another  year 52 
 
 Around  the  throne  of  God 107 
 
 Around  thine  altar,  Ford,  this  day 84 
 
 Around  thy  forest  shrine 269 
 
 As  from  these  hallowed  scenes  we  go 385 
 
 A  shadow  steals  across  the  sun 377 
 
 A  single  star  how  bright 211 
 
 A  sleepless  night ;  the  rain  pours  fast 471 
 
 As  through  the  pathless  fields  of  air 58 
 
 As  up  to  heaven  our  eyes  we  raise 264 
 
544  INDEX  OF  FIRST  LINES. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 As  wandering  o'er  life's  weary  way J93 
 
 A  sweet  and  blessed  strain  they  swell 279 
 
 At  cool  of  day,  with  God  I  walk 465 
 
 At  dead  of  night  a  south-west  breeze 417 
 
 Attend,  all  ye  faithful,  your  Leader's  command .  505 
 
 At  thy  call,  O  Voice  divine 367 
 
 Author  of  all  my  blessings  here 267 
 
 A  voice  by  Jordan's  shore 429 
 
 A  voice  from  the  sea  to  the  mountains 366 
 
 A  wail  from  beyond  the  desert 100 
 
 Awake,  O  church  !  thy  strength  put  on 63 
 
 Away,  O  Fame  !  Thy  star  has  set 475 
 
 A  wondrous  star  our  pioneer 420 
 
 Ay,  look  around  ;  but  thou  mayst  not  behold 525 
 
 Bearing  the  Saviour's  story 527 
 
 Because  I  wear  the  swaddling-bands  of  Time 501 
 
 Before  thee,  Lord,  a  servant  bows 474 
 
 Begirt  with  wood-crowned  hills 412 
 
 Behold,  —  but  motes  of  animated  dust 348 
 
 Behold  —  not  him  we  knew 258 
 
 Behold  the  western  evening  light 146 
 
 Beneath  the  shadow  of  the  cross 430 
 
 Beneath  thine  hammer,  Lord,  I  lie 207 
 
 Beneath  thy  trees  to-day  we  met 421 
 
 Black  the  heaven  is  overcast 145 
 
 Blest  spirit  of  my  life,  oh,  stay 423 
 
 Break  forth  in  song,  ye  trees 37 
 
 Brook  said  to  stream  :  Ah  me  !  swallowed  so  suddenly      ....  373 
 
 Brother,  hast  thou  wandered  far 288 
 
 Build  not  on  to-morrow 413 
 
 Calm  on  the  listening  ear  of  night 306 
 
 Cast  thy  bread  upon  the  waters 97 
 
 Cease,  my  heart,  to  dread  the  morrow 17 
 
 Changing,  fading,  falling,  flying 178 
 
 Children  of  light,  awake 246 
 
 Christ  hath  arisen 213 
 
 Christ  to  the  young  man  said  :   "  Yet  one  thing  more  " 226 
 
 Christ  will  gather  in  his  own 535 
 
 City  of  God,  how  broad  and  far 452 
 
 Come,  let  us  away 314 
 
 Come  suddenly,  O  Lord,  or  slowly  come 346 
 
 Come  to  me,  O  ye  children 228 
 
 Come  up  !  the  moon  is  rising  fast 442 
 
 Come  when  the  leaves  are  greenest 82 
 
INDEX  OF  FIRST  LIVES.  545 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Deal  gently  with  us,  Lord 506 
 
 Dear  eyes  that  never  looked  reproach 533 
 
 Dear  Friend  !  whose  presence  in  the  house 291 
 
 Dear  Jesus,  were  thy  spirit  now  on  earth 300 
 
 Dear  Saviour,  in  my  hour  of  pride 507 
 
 Dear  tics  of  mutual  succor  bind 130 
 
 Deem  not  that  they  are  blest  alone 117 
 
 Devoutly  read,  and  then  all  books  will  edify  thcc 373 
 
 Down  toward  the  twilight  drifting 327 
 
 Dry,  dry  up  those  tears 83 
 
 Earth  rolls  round  from  day  to  night 365 
 
 Entranced  among  the  rocks  and  trees 352 
 
 Eternal  Father,  at  whose  word 415 
 
 Eternal  Father,  throned  above 270 
 
 Eternal  Ruler  of  the  ceaseless  round 517 
 
 Fades  from  the  west  the  farewell  light 320 
 
 Faint  not,  poor  traveller,  though  thy  way 51 
 
 Farewell,  farewell,  thou  fostering  earth 198 
 
 Farewell,  ye  walls  !  though  in  your  sacred  square 98 
 
 Far  off  from  God,  O  thou  my  soul 86 
 
 Father,  accept  these  sacred  walls 136 
 
 Father,  at  this  calm  hour 490 
 
 Father  !  before  I  close  mine  eyes 268 
 
 Father  !  beneath  thy  chastening  stroke 368 
 
 Father,  beneath  thy  sheltering  wing 319 
 
 Father,  direct  my  ways 234 
 
 Father,  enthroned  above 272 
 
 Father  in  heaven,  to  thee  my  heart 166 
 
 Father,  in  thy  mysterious  presence  kneeling 446 
 
 Father,  I  see  my  wrong 131 
 
 Father  !  I  thank  thee  for  thy  care 149 
 
 Father  !  I  wait  thy  word.     The  sun  doth  stand 336 
 
 Father,  I  will  not  ask  for  wealth  or  fame 301 
 
 Father  of  world  and  soul 367 
 
 Father,  there  is  no  change  to  live  with  thee 337 
 
 Father,  thy  gentle  chastisement 112 
 
 Father,  thy  mercies  never  fail 24 
 
 Father  !  thy  rich  spirit  shed 75 
 
 Father,  thy  servant  waits  to  do  thy  will 322 
 
 Father  !  thv  wonders  do  not  singly  stand 337 
 
 Father,  to  thee  alone 236 
 
 Father  !  when  gathered  round  thy  throne 267 
 
 Father,  whose  sheep  in  pastures  fair 509 
 
 Feeble,  helpless,  how  shall  I 168 
 
 35 
 
546  INDEX  OF  FIRST  LINES. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Flowers  for  the  early  dead 275 
 
 For  all  the  trials  of  my  earlier  day 302 
 
 For  all  thy  gifts  we  praise  thee,  Lord 289 
 
 Forget  not  the  Dead,  who  have  loved,  who  have  left  us     ...     .  439 
 
 Forms  beloved,  whose  memory  haunts  me 426 
 
 For  us  God's  only  Son 140 
 
 Freemen,  we  our  chartered  rights 25 
 
 From  Maine,  Vermont,  New  Hampshire 183 
 
 From  thee,  O  God,  our  spirits  come 27 
 
 From  Zion's  holy  hill  there  rose 382 
 
 Gay,  guiltless  pair 71 
 
 Genius  for  us  has  wrought 405 
 
 Give  me,  my  God,  to  feel  thee  in  my  joy 292 
 
 Give  me,  O  Lord,  a  thankful  heart 135 
 
 Glorious  that  Faith  which  prompts  to  deeds  of  love 394 
 
 Glory  to  God 240 
 
 Glory  to  God,  and  peace  on  earth 62 
 
 God  bless  our  Fathers'  Land 259 
 
 God  bless  our  native  land 370 
 
 God  cannot  die • 528 
 
 God  of  the  earnest  heart 446 
 
 God  of  the  earth's  extended  plains 149 
 
 God  of  the  morning  and  the  night 351 
 
 God  of  the  soul  !  oh,  help  us  to  revere 393 
 
 God  of  wisdom,  God  of  might 65 
 
 God  ploughed  one  day  with  an  earthquake 510 
 
 God,  thou  art  good  !  each  perfumed  flower 60 
 
 God,  who  dwellest  everywhere 58 
 
 Go  forth  !  the  sky  is  blue  above 440 
 
 Go  forth  to  life,  O  child  of  earth 430 
 
 Golden  gleams  of  noonday  fell 355 
 
 Good-night  !  good-night !  our  song  is  said 176 
 
 Go,  with  a  manly  heart 440 
 
 Grant  me,  Lord,  some  precious  token 19 
 
 Great  God,  in  heaven  above 399 
 
 Great  God,  the  followers  of  thy  Son 105 
 
 Great  God  !  within  these  temple  gates 359 
 
 Great  is  the  earth,  O  God 529 
 
 Great  Lord  of  all  !  our  Father,  God 364 
 
 Great  Source  of  Good,  our  God  and  Friend 392 
 
 Guest  from  a  holier  world 489 
 
 Hail,  Pilgrim  Fathers  of  our  race 6 
 
 Hail  to  the  Sabbath  day 242 
 
 Hallowed  for  ever  be  that  twilight  hour 498 
 
INDEX  OF  FIRST  LINES.  547 
 
 PAGB 
 
 Happy  the  man,  who,  sauntering  on  his  way 425 
 
 Happy  the  unrepining  poor 23 
 
 I  lark  !  the  gentle  Shepherd's  voice 202 
 
 I  Lis  life  no  charm  for  thee 265 
 
 Hath  not  thy  heart  within  thee  burned 248 
 
 Have  faith  in  man,  thy  brother 379 
 
 He  has  gone  to  his  God,  he  has  gone  to  his  home 52 
 
 He  hides  within  the  lily 514 
 
 He  made  the  sun,  and  gave  him  light 139 
 
 Here,  after  Jacob  parted  from  his  brother 286 
 
 Here  in  a  world  of  doubt 160 
 
 Here,  in  the  broken  bread 169 
 
 He  was  not  what  the  world  counts  rich 438 
 
 He  who  in  mercy  makes  the  sun  to  shine 181 
 
 Hither,  bright  angels,  wing  your  flight 438 
 
 Holy  Son  of  God  most  high 244 
 
 Holy  Spirit,  Fire  divine 216 
 
 Holy  Spirit,  Truth  divine 432 
 
 Home  !  home  !  as  we  kneel  at  thy  time-hallowed  shrine     ....  263 
 
 Hosanna  unto  David's  Son 351 
 
 How  come  the  dead  ?  we  anxious  ask  .  - 345 
 
 How  fast  the  rapid  hours  retire 142 
 
 How  glad  the  tone  when  summer's  sun 382 
 
 How  good  it  is  in  love  and  peace  to  dwell     .     . 497 
 
 How  long,  O  Lord  !  how  long 235 
 
 How  shall  I  know  thee  in  the  sphere  which  keeps 125 
 
 How  sweet,  dear  Lord,  to  rest 486 
 
 How  sweetly  from  the  western  sky 297 
 
 How  sweet  to  be  allowed  to  pray 60 
 
 How  sweet  upon  this  sacred  day 55 
 
 Ho  !  ye  that  rest  beneath  the  rock 309 
 
 Humanity  is  found  kneeling  in  every  zone 373 
 
 Hunger  no  more,  O  starving  ones  of  earth 468 
 
 I  aim  to  follow  thee 134 
 
 I  bless  thee,  Lord,  for  sorrows  sent 450 
 
 I  cannot  make  him  dead 43 
 
 I  dare  not  echo  those  who  say 463 
 
 I  feel  within  a  want 167 
 
 If  ever  angel's  wing 274 
 
 I  gazed  upon  thy  face,  —  and  beating  life 338 
 
 I  have  done  at  length  with  dreaming 456 
 
 I  hear  again  mv  childhood's  songs 345 
 
 I  heard  the  trailing  garments  of  the  Night 2r8 
 
 I  hear  it  often  in  the  dark 516 
 
 I  hold  the  laws  of  truth,  so  far  as  understood 475 
 
54^  INDEX  OF  FIRST  LINES. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 know  not  whither  I  go  ;  I  came,  I  know  not  whence 372 
 
 like  that  ancient  Saxon  phrase  which  calls 222 
 
 look  to  thee  in  every  need 431 
 
 look  upon  thy  features,  honored  friend 182 
 
 n  ages  past,  majestic  prophets  came 393 
 
 n  costly  fane,  the  pride  of  art 22 
 
 n  darker  days  and  nights  of  storm 298 
 
 n  darkest  hours  I  hear  a  voice 396 
 
 n  deep  affliction,  Lord,  I  lie 18 
 
 n  each  breeze  that  wanders  free 395 
 
 nfinite  Spirit !  who  art  round  us  ever 285 
 
 n  life's  horizon  rose  a  star 407 
 
 n  passing  through  the  harvest  field 534 
 
 n  pleasant  lands  have  fallen  the  lines 25 
 
 n  the  beauty  of  holiness  worship  the  Lord 59 
 
 n  the  golden  summer  morning 485 
 
 n  the  morning  I  will  raise 161 
 
 n  this  glad  hour,  when  children  meet 1 1 1 
 
 n  this  green  lane  we  often  walked 414 
 
 nto  the  wilderness  was  Hagar  driven 201 
 
 nto  what  land  of  harvests,  what  plantations 231 
 
 pray,  with  meek  hands  on  my  breast 460 
 
 saw  on  earth  another  light 340 
 
 saw  the  mountain  oak  with  towering  form 185 
 
 say  to  every  man  I  meet 371 
 
 see  it  ever  there  above  my  head 500 
 
 sin  whenever  I  pursue 139 
 
 sit  within  my  room,  and  joy  to  find 339 
 
 stand  between  the  Future  and  the  Past 403 
 
 s  there  a  lone  and  dreary  hour 78 
 
 s  there  a  secret,  hidden  place 271 
 
 t  came  upon  the  midnight  clear 308 
 
 think  if  he  who  spake  that  blessed  word 523 
 
 t  is  the  gentle  evening  hour 56 
 
 would  my  work  were  better  done 158 
 
 Jehovah,  at  thine  awful  throne 175 
 
 Jesus  has  lived  !   and  we  would  bring  . 472 
 
 Jesus  said  with  soothing  voice 133 
 
 Jesus,  there  is  no  dearer  name  than  thine 298 
 
 Lamb  of  God's  fold  !  'tis  well  with  thee 369 
 
 Let  children  learn  the  mighty  deeds 7 
 
 Life  is  a  sea ;  like  ships  we  meet 366 
 
 Life  of  Ages,  richly  poured 451 
 
 Lift  your  glad  voices  in  triumph  on  high 105 
 
INDEX  OF  FIRST  LINES.  549 
 
 PAGB 
 
 Like  Israel's  hosts  to  exile  driven in 
 
 Lo  !  another  offering 210 
 
 Look  around  thee  !  say  how  long 394 
 
 Lord,  in  whose  might  the  Saviour  trod 243 
 
 Lord  of  all  being  !  throned  afar 257 
 
 Lord  of  all,  we  bow  before  thee 398 
 
 Lord  of  the  worlds  below 2 
 
 Lord,  once  our  faith  in  man  no  fear  could  move 447 
 
 Lord,  send  us  forth  among  thy  fields  to  work 499 
 
 Lord,  who  ordainest  for  mankind 121 
 
 Lo  !  the  day  of  rest  declineth 305 
 
 Lo  !  they  come  from  east  and  west 17 
 
 Love  for  all,  and  can  it  be 433 
 
 Loving  Father,  heavenly  King 137 
 
 Man  in  his  might  and  worldly  skill 190 
 
 'Mid  the  flower-wreathed  tombs  I  stand 483 
 
 Mighty  One,  before  whose  face 115 
 
 My  Father,  take  my  hand,  for  I  am  prone 330 
 
 My  God,  by  thy  directing  power 148 
 
 My  God,  I  thank  thee  ;  may  no  thought 47 
 
 My  God  once  mixed  a  harsh  cup,  for  me  to  drink  from  it  ...     .  470 
 
 My  God,  my  Father,  and  my  Friend 427 
 
 Music's  the  language  of  cherubs  in  glory 203 
 
 Mute  in  the  studio  the  artist  stands 330 
 
 Never,  my  heart,  wilt  thou  grow  old 157 
 
 New  heavens,  new  earth,  where  are  ye  ?     Evermore 293 
 
 Nigh,  in  that  hour  of  secret  grief 264 
 
 No  human  eyes  thy  face  may  see 480 
 
 No  night,  no  night  !  O  blessed  dawn 461 
 
 No  Sabbath  hush,  to-day,  has  led 409 
 
 Not  all  the  beauties  of  this  joyous  earth 403 
 
 nmid  pleasure's  giddy  throng 273 
 
 Not  by  vast  piles  of  sculptured  stone,  uprearing 378 
 
 Not  charity  we  a^k 256 
 
 Not  within  palace-halls 277 
 
 Not  yet  : — along  the  purpling  sky 45S 
 
 Now  bend  we  low,  and  ask  our  fathers'  God 474 
 
 on  land  and  sea  descending 436 
 
 No  words  of  labored  prayer  I  know 158 
 
 Now  to  the  God  to  whom  all  might 32 
 
 O  Brother,  who  for  us  didst  meekly  wear 301 
 
 O  deem  not  that  earth's  crowning  bliss 3T7 
 
 O  fair-haired  Northern  hero 409 
 
550  INDEX  OF  FIRST  LINES. 
 
 PAGH 
 
 0  Father,  as  in  days  of  old 493 
 
 O  Father,  kindly  deign  to  hear 472 
 
 O  Father  of  the  living  Christ 188 
 
 Of  idle  hopes  and  fancies  wild 156 
 
 Of  old,  on  priest  and  prophet  came 334 
 
 O  for  a  prophet's  fire 168 
 
 O  friend,  endeared  to  heart  and  mind 362 
 
 Oft  have  I  walked  these  woodland  paths 495 
 
 O  gift  of  God  !  O  perfect  day .  229 
 
 O  God,  accept  the  sacred  hour 74 
 
 O  God,  beneath  this  Greenwood  shade 44 
 
 O  God,  in  thy  autumnal  skies 360 
 
 O  God,  I  thank  thee  that  the  night 30 
 
 O  God  of  light  and  love 396 
 
 O  God,  mine  eyes  and  ears  unseal 417 
 
 O  God,  my  agony  is  great 418 
 
 O  God,  thy  children  gathered  here 431 
 
 O  God,  to  thine  all-seeing  ken 101 
 
 O  God,  who  dwellest  in  the  surging  sea 526 
 
 O  God,  whose  dread  and  dazzling  brow 118 
 
 O  God,  whose  presence  glows  in  all .88 
 
 O,  happiest  he,  whose  riper  years  retain 442 
 
 O  heart  of  all  the  shining  day 515 
 
 Oh,  holy  is  the  golden  light 416 
 
 Oh,  how  far  are  we  below  Him 170 
 
 Oh,  my  tried  soul,  be  patient  !  roughest  rinds 459 
 
 Oh,  not  for  thee  we  weep  ;  we  weep     .     .     • 41 
 
 O  holy  Mother  !  had  no  angel's  voice 466 
 
 Oh,  slow  to  smite  and  swift  to  spare 129 
 
 Oh,  stay  thy  tears  ;  for  they  are  blest 48 
 
 Oh,  think  not  that  my  eyes  are  dry 492 
 
 Oh,  trust  not,  youth,  to  the  visions  fair 379 
 
 Oh,  when  the  hours  of  life  are  past 141 
 
 Oh,  who  that  has  gazed,  in  the  stillness  of  even 152 
 
 O  Israel  !  at  the  trumpet  turn 350 
 
 Old  mountains  !  dim  and  gray  ye  rise 349 
 
 O  little  feet,  that  such  long  years 230 
 
 O  Lord,  deliver,  when  the  unclouded  ray 237 
 
 O  Lord  of  Hosts,  Almighty  King 260 
 
 O  Lord  of  life,  and  truth,  and  grace 90 
 
 O  Lord  of  life  !  to  thee  we  pray 391 
 
 O  Lord,  our  God,  when  storm  and  flame 478 
 
 O  Lord,  the  riches  of  thy  grace 415 
 
 O  Lord,  thy  all- discerning  eyes 11 
 
 O  Love  Divine,  that  stooped  to  share 257 
 
 O  maiden,  at  the  dawn  of  day 385 
 
INDEX  OF  FIRST  LINES.  55  I 
 
 PAGB 
 
 O  mingle  with  the  widow's  tears 166 
 
 Once  more  on  balmy  wings 358 
 
 One  bright  flower  has  drooped  and  faded 399 
 
 One  Father,  God,  we  own 99 
 
 One  holy  church  of  God  appears 434 
 
 One  little  bud  adorned  my  bower 69 
 
 One  prayer,  with  never-ceasing  sound 203 
 
 One  universal  strain  of  praise 274 
 
 Only  ten  miles  from  the  city 512 
 
 O  North,  with  all  thy  vales  of  green 122 
 
 Onward  and  upward,  be  the  motto  mine 53S 
 
 Onward,  onward,  though  the  region 448 
 
 Open  your  gates,  O  grave 536 
 
 Oppression  shall  not  always  reign 113 
 
 O  Saviour,  whose  immortal  word 91 
 
 O  shall  our  hearts  that  Friend  forsake 200 
 
 O  still  in  accents,  sweet  and  strong 435 
 
 O  suffering  Friend  of  human  kind 245 
 
 O  Thou,  at  whose  dread  name  we  bend 68 
 
 O  Thou,  by  God  ordained  to  lead  the  race 293 
 
 O  Thou  Eternal  One,  may  I  commune 299 
 
 O  Thou  great  Friend  to  all  the  sons  of  men 300 
 
 O  Thou,  to  whom,  in  ancient  time ^3 
 
 O  Thou,  who  art  above  all  height 33 
 
 O  Thou,  who  changest  not  though  centuries  roll 327 
 
 O  Thou,  who  on  thy  chosen  Son no 
 
 O  Thou,  whose  boundless  power  and  love 418 
 
 O  Thou,  whose  love  can  ne'er  forget 116 
 
 O  Thou,  whose  spirit  Moses  did  inspire 411 
 
 O  Thou,  whose  Spirit  o'er  the  deep 506 
 
 Our  Father,  here  again  we  raise 172 
 
 Our  Father,  Nature's  God 154 
 
 Our  fathers,  Lord,  to  seek  a  spot 66 
 
 Our  Father,  to  thy  love  we  owe        117 
 
 Our  Father,  we  approach  thy  board 43 
 
 Our  life  is  but  a  span 241 
 
 Our  life  is  like  a  ship  that  sails  some  day 518 
 
 Our  pilgrim  brethren  dwelling  far 62 
 
 Our  wisest  wisdom's  chosen  gate 527 
 
 Parent  of  souls  !  all  tribes  depend 154 
 
 Peace,  peace  on  earth  !  the  heart  of  man  for  ever 434 
 
 Praise  for  the  glorious  light 2S2 
 
 Praise  to  God  !  oh,  let  us  raise 57 
 
 Pray,  mother,  for  thy  prayer  may  keep 342 
 
552  INDEX  OF  FIRST  LINES. 
 
 PAGF 
 
 Rejoice,  and  be  exceeding  glad 527 
 
 Rejoice,  O  weary  soul 357 
 
 "  Remember  me,"  the  Saviour  said 92 
 
 Richly,  O  richly,  have  I  been 163 
 
 Sad  souls,  that  harbor  fears  and  woes 502 
 
 Saint  Augustine  !  well  hast  thou  said 226 
 
 Saviour,  when  the  loved  depart 496 
 
 Saviour,  when  thy  bread  we  break 326 
 
 See  !  the  golden  morning  rises 199 
 
 See  the  streaks  of  daylight  swim 145 
 
 "  Serve  God  and  be  cheerful."     The  motto 187 
 
 Sleep  on,  sleep  on,  beneath  the  sod 374 
 
 Slowly  by  thy  hand  unfurled 162 
 
 Sons  of  renowned  sires 5 
 
 So  soft,  so  white,  so  cold 313 
 
 So  the  two  voices,  to  the  dreamer's  thought 179 
 
 Sovereign  and  transforming  Grace 206 
 
 Spirit  of  Wisdom  and  of  Power 31 
 
 Spirits  of  the  mighty  dead 356 
 
 Still  will  we  trust,  though  earth  seem  dark  and  dreary 316 
 
 Strew  all  their  graves  with  flowers 343 
 
 Strong-souled  Reformer,  whose  far-seeing  faith 453 
 
 Suppliant,  lo  !  thy  children  bend 173 
 
 Sure,  to  the  mansions  of  the  blest 12 
 
 "  Take,  and  eat,"  the  Saviour  said 247 
 
 Take  them,  O  Death  !  and  bear  away 225 
 
 Tell  me  not,  in  mournful  numbers 219 
 
 That  one  so  rich  in  promise 165 
 
 That  this  shall  be  a  better  year 524 
 
 The  break  of  morn  and  May 361 
 
 The  bud  will  soon  become  a  flower 340 
 
 The  Christmas  Tree  !     The  Christmas  Tree 197 
 
 The  Cross,  the  symbol  once  of  crime 87 
 
 The  day  is  cold  and  dark  and  dreary 222 
 
 The  dying  year  !  the  dying  year 143 
 
 The  earth,  all  light  and  loveliness 233 
 
 The  everlasting  mountains  stand 495 
 
 The  flower  that  opened  to  the  light 386 
 
 The  glorious  God  who  reigns  on  high 79 
 
 The  God  in  whom  I  ever  trust 138 
 
 The  hallowed  morn  returns  again 266 
 
 The  harp  of  the  minstrel  with  melody  rings 45 
 
 The  homeless  winds  that  wander  o'er  the  land 492 
 
 The  humble  pile  our  fathers  raised 296 
 
INDEX  OF  FIRST  LINES.  553 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Their  brows  should  wear  a  holy  light 317 
 
 The  journey  is  too  great  for  thee 95 
 
 The  land  our  fathers  left  to  us 481 
 
 The  Lord  is  in  his  Holy  Place 513 
 
 The  midnight  winds  are  sounding  loud     .          . 144 
 
 The  minutes  have  their  trusts  as  they  go  by 341 
 
 The  moon  is  up  :  how  calm  and  slow 147 
 
 The  morning  breaks  upon  my  eyes 464 
 
 The  mountains  wild  and  valleys  fair 388 
 
 The  old  red  rock  tempts  the  salt  sea-wave 532 
 
 Theories  which  thousands  cherish 392 
 
 The  past  is  dark  with  sin  and  shame 482 
 
 The  Pilgrim  Fathers,  —  where  are  they 34 
 
 The  poor  ye  always  have  with  you 354 
 
 The  rain  is  o'er,  —  how  dense  and  bright 49 
 
 There  are,  thank  Heaven,  beneath  this  fitful  dome 443 
 
 There  are  they  who  have  left  their  sweet  home 94 
 
 There  cometh  o'er  the  spirit 375 
 
 There  is  a  cable  stretched  from  earth  to  heaven 468 
 
 There  is  a  Reaper,  whose  name  is  Death 220 
 
 There  is  no  flock,  however  watched  and  tended 224 
 
 There's  a  light  gone  out  of  the  sunshine 380 
 
 There  was  a  glory  in  my  house 521 
 
 The  Sabbath  bells  ring  out  upon  the  air 458 
 
 The  snow  has  come  ;  o'er  field  and  hill 375 
 
 The  soul  does  its  own  life  to  Nature  give 402 
 
 The  sun  is  set,  the  silver  moon 537 
 
 The  sun  is  still  for  ever  sounding 212 
 
 The  veil  has  dropped  ;  her  spirit  now 404 
 
 The  waves  of  light  are  drifting  from  off  the  heavenly  shore    .     .     .  329 
 
 The  whispering  sea,  the  thundering  surf 412 
 
 The  whole  broad  earth  is  beautiful 81 
 
 The  Will  Divine  that  woke  a  waiting  time 453 
 
 The  winds  are  hushed  ;  the  peaceful  morn 42 
 
 The  worlds  that  shine  above  us  nightly 471 
 
 They  are  all  gone  but  one 41 
 
 The  year,  as  now  it  dies  away 387 
 
 They  had  fed  on  his  word,  and  they  drank  in  his  smile 184 
 
 They  passed  away  from  sight  and  hand 102 
 
 This  child  we  dedicate  to  thee 73 
 
 This  cottage-door,  this  gentle  gale 442 
 
 This  day  let  grateful  praise  ascend 280 
 
 This  is  the  ship  of  pearl,  which,  poets  feign 255 
 
 This  world  is  bright  and  fair,  we  know 494 
 
 Thou  art  my  morning,  God  of  light 325 
 
554  INDEX  OF  FIRST  LINES. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Thou  art,  O  God  !  my  East.     In  thee  I  dawned 325 
 
 Thou  art  our  Master  !  thou  of  God  the  Son 324 
 
 Thou  lofty  One  !  whose  name  is  Love 67 
 
 Thou  Lord  of  hosts,  whose  guiding  hand 45S     4 
 
 Thou  sparkling  bowl  !  thou  sparkling  bowl 39 
 
 Thou  unrelenting  Past 124 
 
 Thou  wert  beside  us  on  our  daily  way 467 
 
 Thou  who  didst  aid  our  sires  to  raise 401 
 
 Thou,  who  didst  stoop  below 232 
 
 Thou  who  hast  called  our  being  here 443 
 
 Thou  whose  glad  summer  yields 449 
 
 Thou  whose  unmeasured  temple  stands 119 
 
 Through  Baca's  vale  my  way  is  cast 328 
 
 Through  crooked  paths  thou  hast  conducted  me 302 
 
 Through  haughty  realms  that  low  and  wasted  lie 349 
 
 'Tis  a  new  life  ;  —  thoughts  move  not  as  they  did 339 
 
 'Tis  not  the  copious  rains  alone 342 
 
 'Tis  sweet,  when  life's  last  work  is  done 383 
 
 'Tis  the  youth  in  all  my  motion 424 
 
 'Tis  winter  now  ;  the  fallen  snow 435 
 
 To  him  who  children  blessed 2S9 
 
 Toiling  through  the  livelong  night 240 
 
 To  light  that  shines  in  stars  and  souls .  449 
 
 To  prayer,  to  prayer  ;  —  for  the  morning  breaks 108 
 
 To  preach  Good  Tidings  !  this  the  call 520 
 
 To  Thee,  beneath  whose  eye 38 
 
 To  Thee,  Great  Spirit,  by  whose  will 333 
 
 To  thee,  O  God  in  heaven 288 
 
 To  thee,  O  God  !  whose  guiding  hand 8 
 
 To  thine  eternal  arms,  O,  God 482 
 
 To  veil  thy  truth  by  darkening  or  by  hiding 479 
 
 Turn  to  the  stars  of  heaven  thine  eyes 11 
 
 'Twas  in  the  East,  the  mystic  East 209 
 
 'Twas  the  day  when  God's  Anointed 208 
 
 Two  pilgrims  to  the  holy  land 439 
 
 Underneath  the  sod,  low  lying 441 
 
 Under  the  snow  the  violets  are  budding 488 
 
 Wake,  church  of  freedom,  wake  !   'tis  day 499 
 
 We  are  but  two,  —  the  others  sleep 70 
 
 We  ask  not  that  our  path  be  always  bright 318 
 
 We  bless  thee  for  this  sacred  day 78 
 
 We  come,  a  pilgrim  band,  to  kneel 192 
 
INDEX  OF  FIRST  LIXES.  555 
 
 PAGE 
 
 We  come  in  childhood's  innocence 174 
 
 We  did  not  part  as  others  part 50 
 
 We  gather  to  the  sacred  board 249 
 
 Welcome,  servant  of  the  Lord 180 
 
 Welcome  !  thou  blessed  spot 276 
 
 Welcome,  ye  deep  and  silent  shades 18 
 
 We  meditate  the  day 89 
 
 We  rear  not  a  temple,  like  Judah's  of  old 112 
 
 Were  half  the  power  that  fills  the  world  with  terror 223 
 
 We  sing  thy  mercy,  God  of  love 75 
 
 What  do  you  say  to  God,  little  bird 531 
 
 Whatever  dims  thy  sense  of  truth 281 
 
 What  is  this  that  stirs  within 164 
 
 What  myriads  throng  in  proud  array 69 
 
 What  though  they  boast  of  fairer  lands 490 
 
 When  all  things  thou  hast  made 134 
 
 When  April's  warmth  unlocks  the  clod 287 
 
 When  brighter  suns  and  milder  skies [42 
 
 When,  driven  by  oppression's  rod 196 
 
 When  from  their  sight  the  Saviour  went 344 
 
 When  God  upheaved  the  pillared  earth 85 
 
 When  I  am  weak,  I'm  strong  .     .  ■ 92 
 
 When  in  silence,  o'er  the  deep 281 
 
 When  Israel's  host,  in  days  of  old 400 
 
 When  Jesus  trod  by  thy  blue  sea 157 
 
 When  our  purest  delights  are  nipt  in  the  blossom 57 
 
 When  the  blind  suppliant  in  the  way 129 
 
 When  the  hours  of  day  are  numbered 221 
 
 When  this  song  of  praise  shall  cease 120 
 
 When  thy  Son,  O  God,  was  sleeping 36 
 
 Where  ancient  forests  round  us  spread 54 
 
 Where  for  a  thousand  miles 290 
 
 Where  the  dark  sea  of  Egypt  throws 250 
 
 While  round  thy  throne,  O  God,  we  bend 172 
 
 While  thus  thy  throne  of  grace  we  seek 304 
 
 Who  is  the  shepherd,  sent  to  lead 254 
 
 Who  is  thy  neighbor  ?    He  whom  thou 151 
 
 Why  should  such  sorrow  come,  I  asked,  to  thee 252 
 
 Why  shun,  my  soul,  with  downcast,  cowed  behavior 503 
 
 Wilt  Thou  not  visit  me 338 
 
 Within  the  shadow  of  his  cross  we  stand 473 
 
 Within  this  lowly  grave  a  conqueror  lies 127 
 
 With  sandals  gemmed  with  morning  dew 328 
 
 With  thankful  hearts,  O  God,  we  come 177 
 
 Work  of  a  hand  whose  graver  cut •  409 
 
55^  INDEX  OF  FIRST  LINES. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Year  passeth  after  year,  O  Lord,  our  God 245 
 
 Ye  sacred  walls,  —  blest  Freedom's  shrine 444 
 
 Yes,  Holy  One,  thou  the  good  Shepherd  art .     .  302 
 
 Yes  !  there  were  some  among  thy  hearers,  Lord 246 
 
 Yes,  to  the  last  command 74 
 
 You  strove  in  vain  with  cunning  words 491 
 
 Youth  and  its  vernal  bloom  have  fled 20 
 
 Cambridge :    Press  of  John  Wilson  &  Son. 
 
1564.  In  which  edition  of  "A  Book  of 
 Hymns"  is  to  be  found  the  version  of  tho 
 poem  which  K.  H.  gives  as  being  in  that 
 volume?  The  first  edition  of  the  volume 
 was  published  in  1846,  and  many  editions 
 of  it  have  since  been  published.  In  the 
 first  edition  the  version  of  the  poem 
 which  K.  H.  gives  has  three  stanzas,  but  in 
 the  second  edition  (1848),  the  fourth  edi- 
 tion (1849)  and  the  thirteenth  edition  0861), 
 which  are  the  only  ones  that  I  have  seen 
 of  the  editions  other  than  the  first,  it  has 
 four  stanzas.  I  append  the  version  which 
 is  given  of  the  poem  in  those  second, 
 fourth  and  thirteenth  editions,  and  by 
 comparing  It  with  the  version  given  of  it 
 by  K.  H.— which  is  the  four-stanza  version- 
 it  will  be  seen  that  the  two  versions  differ 
 from  each  other  considerably. 
 
 Kearsaegb 
 
 Ministering  Angels 
 
 "Brother,"   the  angels  say, 
 
 "Peace  to  thy  heart; 
 We,    too,    O    brother, 
 
 Have  been  as  thou  art — • 
 Hope-lifted,  doubt-depressed. 
 
 Seeing  in   part, 
 Tried,  troubled,  tempted, 
 
 Sustained,  as  thou  art. 
 
 Brother,**  they  softly  say, 
 
 "Be  our  thoughts  one, 
 Bend  thou  with  us  and  pray, 
 
 *Thy   will  be  done.' 
 Our  God  is  thy  God, 
 
 He  willeth  the  best; 
 Trust  him  as  we  trusted. 
 
 Rest  as  we  rest. 
 
 Ye,  too,"  they  gently  say, 
 
 "Shall    angels    be; 
 Ye,  too,    O   brothers, 
 
 From  earth  shall  be  free; 
 Yet  in   earth's  loved  ones 
 
 Ye  still  shall  have  part, 
 Bearing  God's  strength  and  love 
 
 To  the   torn  heart." 
 
 Thus,  when  the  spirit,   tried, 
 
 Tempted  and  worn, 
 Finding  no  earthly   aid, 
 
 Heavenward  doth  turn, 
 -Come  these  sweet  angel  tones, 
 
 Falling  like  balm, 
 And  on  the  troubled  heart 
 
 Steals  a  deep  calm. 
 
 HUNTING    HERETICS. 
 
 Are  there  no  hungry  poor  to  feed, 
 None  destitute  that  should  be  clad, 
 No  broken  hearts  unbound  that  bleed, 
 No  souls  to  cheer,  now  bowed  and  sad, 
 No  precious  souls  to  gently  lead, 
 In  tears,  toward  the  crucifix, 
 That  you  haste  with  unseemly  speed, 
 In  the  mad  hunt  of  heretics  ? 
 
 If  Paul,  in  his  tent-making  dress, 
 Had  preached  upon  the  ocean  sand, 
 Or  in  a  stable  dared  to  bless, 
 The  humble  with  uplifted  hand, 
 Or  baptized  in  the  wilderness, 
 The  penitent  where  faith  can  fix 
 Its  eye  upon  God's  temple  grand  — 
 Would  you  rank  him  with  heretics  ? 
 
 Hail  to  the  woodland  sweet  and  green, 
 Where  song-birds  charm  the  holy  air, 
 And  lilies  light  the  rural  scene, 
 And  roses  burn  in  bushes,  where 
 A  voice  is  heard  from  lips  unseen, 
 Where  blossoms  flame  on  candlesticks 
 Of  fragrant  gold  and  silver  sheen,  — 
 O  worship  here  good  heretics  ! 
 
 With  or  without  surplice  and  gown, 
 The  book  of  prayer  or  rosary, 
 Or  cushions  filled  with  eider  down, 
 On  which  to  kneel,  or  breviary, 
 Or  consecrated  bell  to  drown 
 The  tones  which  call  unholy  cliques, 
 Come  to  the  country  from  the  town,  — 
 But  not  to  hurt  poor  heretics. 
 
 George  W.  Bunga 
 
 mm 
 
PALM  SUNDAY  AND  EASTER 
 A  roadway  carpeted  with  palms  and  ilowers, 
 
 A  welcome  shouted  by  the  eager  throng; 
 
 A  thousand  voices  singing  David's  song. 
 "Messiah  comes,  the  nation's  king  and  ours!" 
 
 Shouts,  songs  and  palms!    Yet,  as  the  week  goes  by, 
 The  shouts  are  silenced  and  the  palms  are  dry, 
 Till  that  last  day,  when  blackness  shrouds  the  sky, 
 
 And  those  who  shouted  then,  to-day  cry,  "Crucify!" 
 
 A  cold,  dark  morning  and  a  new  made  tomb; 
 Three  weeping  women  groping  through  the  gloom, 
 To  dress  a  corpse  from  which  the  life  has  gone. 
 "And  who  shall  roll  away  for  us  the  stone?" 
 Only  one  streak  of  twilight,  cold  and  gray, 
 Whitens  the  east  and  gives  a  hope  of  day; 
 But  see,  it  mounts  the  heavens!    "The  Sun!  the  Sun! 
 See  for  the  world  Eternal  Life  begun!" 
 
 Edward  Everett  Hale. 
 
mm 
 
 BBHHRl