class :B5_iiAL_ Book ,l3feH4 GopyiightN°__J COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT: 05b\GfcA>^oCV^vO^ The Heavenly Pilgrim and Other Poems BY REV. D. RAND PIERCE editor "beulah christian" and "the pentecostal quarterly" "Thou shall compass me about with songs of deliverance." Ps. xxxii. 7. ILLUSTRATED Fortieth Anniversary Edition PUBLISHED BY THE AUTHOR FITCHBURG, MASS. 1909 I1"1 Copyrighted, 1909, By D. Rand Pierce. ©GLA2562G2 DEDICATORY [See Page 66] to my devoted wife Mary Everett Pierce whose christlike companionship has sweetened my life through its joys and sorrows its service and sacrifice and to all the household of faith this volume is affectionately dedicated PREFACE This volume is not a literary venture. No earthly fame as the result of its publication is antici- pated or craved for by the author. The character of its contents forbids any wide appreciation by the general public. It is sent forth with the desire that it may bring some degree of comfort and en- couragement to the saints of God in their earthly pilgrimage, and some measure of glory to the name of the world's Redeemer. These poetic waifs have been garnered from the more than twenty years of the author's literary and ministerial career, and furnish a convenient mile- stone to mark the end of his fortieth annual, which occurred November 20th, 1909. The splendid drawings with which the book is embellished are the work of the late Frank Beard, that prince of religious illustrators. With a fervent prayer for Heaven's blessing to attend them, these songs of faith and cheer are sent forth to the burdened hearts of redeemed humanity. The Author. CONTENTS Part First Songs of Pilgrimage page The Heavenly Pilgrim 15 My Mirrored Heart 19 My Consecration 20 The Transforming Vision . . . . 21 All on the Altar 23 The Hidden Gem 24 What Would Jesus Do 25 Love-Constrained 28 The Wondrous Blessing 29 Only a Word 30 Jesus is Mine 30 My Prayer 32 An Old-Timer's Experience .... 33 You Can Shine 40 The Soul's Grandeur 41 Isn't it Nice He Knows 43 At Thy Feet, Lord 44 Scatter the Seed 45 Nehemiah on the Wall 46 To-morrows Never Come 48 CONTENTS PAGE The Fire of Pentecost . . . . 48 An Unanswered Prayer 50 The Joy-Bells .... 52 "Jesus Knows .... 53 A Beautiful Legend . 55 Blest Secret Place 56 The Sweetest Hours I Know . 57 The Little Foxes 59 No Home in Heaven 60 Jesus Christ is Marching On 61 I Dream of that City 63 Empty-Handed into Heaven . 65 My Mary 66 Part Second Songs in Many Keys page Brave Dorothy Lee 69 71 72 74 The Glad Christmas Storv 75 What Shall the Record Be 77 78 CONTENTS 9 PAGE The Christian Mother 79 To a Dismantled Rose 82 The Cabin Home 83 The Treasured Grave 84 A Deathless Song 85 Lost and Saved . 86 Just a Little Thing . 87 The Two Flowers 90 At Arnold's Homestead 91 May brings Blessings 93 The Saloon-keeper 94 Seeds for Eternity 96 The Higher Critic 97 The Tragedy of the Soul . 99 The Good Old-time Religion 101 Disguised Blessings 102 "Just Gone Before 103 The Silent Voice 107 Eva 108 The Old Mans Vision 109 The Christian Hosts are Marc hing 111 Grace 112 Spirit- Wrecked . 113 Soon Comes Heaven . 114 ILLUSTRATIONS Portrait of the Author The Dying Pilgrim . The Consecration of a Life The Penitent Sinner The Old-timer Rejoicing . An Exhorter of the Old School Mary Everett Pierce . The Hour of Need . Saved by a Song The Faithful Ambassador The Gospel Light is Breaking PAGE Frontispiece 17 27 35 39 51 66 81 89 opp. 100 . HI opp. PART FIRST SONGS OF PILGRIMAGE THE HEAVENLY PILGRIM How blessed the peace Which a saint only knows, That over his heart Like a calm river flows, That lights all his path, On mountain or plain, And deepens his joy, And softens his pain! His pilgrimage here Amid sorrows may lie, But the silver of love Doth each cloud glorify. Though poverty comes, And a shelter denies, He cheerfully sings Of his home in the skies! His burden of sin, That so heavily bore, Is cast in the sea And remembered no more. His robes have been washed In the blood of the Lamb, And his heart is aglow With the heavenly flame! 16 THE HEAVENLY PILGRIM The way that he travels Is narrow and straight, And often beset By the lions of hate, But joyful he mounts, Like the lark in the morn, " For ravenous beasts Shall not go up theron." A day — and the trials Of earth are all past; He enters the portals Of heaven at last; The gate opens wide, And his glorified feet Are gliding in haste Up the bright golden street! His suffering below Not a moment compares With the full cup of bliss Which in glory he shares; His spirit is ravished, As beauties enthrall, But the face of his Saviour Is fairest of all! A pauper on earth — He is reigning with kings; And vieing with angels Exultantly sings; AND OTHER POEMS 17 THE DYING PILGRIM Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like his. — Num. 23 10. A day — and the trials Of earth are all past; He enters the portals Of heaven at last. 18 THE HEAVEN LT PILGRIM At the marriage repast Of the Lamb he sits down, And wears in its splendor A star-laden crown! Despised and unknown By the wisdom of earth, An object of pity, The subject of mirth, Now angels behold, As they hear with surprise This pilgrim commune With the king of the skies! No heartaches are here! No pain and no tears! No sin to embitter Eternity's years! But oceans of joy, And rivers of peace, Shall roll where the anthems Of praise never cease! O child of the world! Wouldst thou know in thy heart The fullness of joy Which this peace can impart ? Thy moment of pleasure How soon it is past! Oh, drink at the Fountain Of joy that can last! AND OTHER POEMS 19 Here's rest for thy soul Which the world cannot know! Here's joy for thy grief, And weal for thy woe! Here's One who has died On Calvary's tree, And opened the portals Of heaven for thee! O Lord, let me sing So sweet that my song May win some poor souls From satan and wrong; Or lead some to enter That land of delight, Where their yoke will be easy, Their burden be light! MY MIRRORED HEART The Saviour's heart became one day A mirror to my own; I saw in painful contrast then The sin I had not known. That revelation so complete Showed why He could not bless; The very best of good I'd prized Seemed stained with selfishness. 20 THE HEAVENLY PILGRIM My heart was sick: " O Christ, I cried, I long to be like thee; I utterly abhor myself; Canst Thou not make me free ? " My burden grew of strong desire; I could not be denied; I wept and prayed till Jesus came, And I was sanctified! Since, many years have come and fled, With moments grave and gay, Yet sweeter still within my heart The Saviour lives to-day! MY CONSECRATION To give up all to Christ seemed such deep sacrifice My thirsting soul had almost fainted at the price; But when he whispered, " I gave all that you call mine, I answered, " Lord, thine own shall be forever thine." So all I had, or was, or hoped to be, I lay In glad surrender at the Saviour's feet that day; And He my humble offering lifted joyfully, And gave it back enriched an hundred-fold to me. AND OTHER POEMS 21 What golden hours have since flown by. Some said a slave I'd be, if all my life, and love, and will I gave — But though a thousand yea's below 'twere mine to plod, I would each moment be the love-slave of my Lord! THE TRANSFORMING VISION When Abraham left Chaldee land, His friends all thought him crazy; He did not know where he would go, His future seemed all hazy; But he pressed on, till one glad morn A telescope God gave him, — He saw through tears two thousand years, The Christ whose blood would save him. Then David, Moses, and Isaiah, Jeremiah and Ezekiel, Elijah and Elisha, too, And Daniel with his " Tekel," They all were true their journey through, And never lost the fire, So God let them look down through time And see the world's Messiah. And there was one, good Simeon, The Holy Ghost had told him That ere death came the Christ would come, His longing eyes behold Him; 22 THE HEAVENLY PILGRIM So when they bore, through temple door, The Babe, oh, what elation Did fill his breast, his eyes at last Had seen the Lord's salvation! And there was John, the saintly one, On Patmos they had shoved him, Because, forsooth, he told the truth About the Lord who loved him; And Jesus there, one Lord's day fair, Came without invitation, And John was blessed almost to death, And wrote the Revelation. And hundreds more, both rich and poor, Lived on with none to praise them; They welcomed death strong in the faith That God had power to raise them; They faltered not, though fierce and hot The stake arose before them, Like angels bright their face did light, As God's dear Son yearned o'er them. Yea, who could tell the names that swell The angel's snowy pages, Of all the throng of heroes strong Who've glorified the ages; Some in the blaze of public gaze, And some unknown to story, Who've loved the truth because forsooth They've seen the Lord of glory. AND OTHER POEMS 23 And oft my life, once filled with strife, Comes back with memory bitter, When far from God, beneath His rod, I sought sin's glare and glitter; Till in despair a vision fair To my poor soul was given; — 'Twas Christ, and He bade me go free, And filled my heart with heaven! Now years this joy without alloy My cup has oft run over, And o'er my way, from day to day, Glad angels seem to hover. I wonder how such love to show, But simple is the story, Like all the rest, so richly blessed, I've seen the King of glory! ALL ON THE ALTAR All on the altar. Purged by His blood. Pride and ambition under the flood. Measureless peace and heavenly rest, Leaning my head on the dear Saviour's breast! All on the altar. Never within, The warring of love with Satan and sin! Dear was the cost! But what of the tree ? And the anguish that purchased redemption for me ? 24 THE HEAVENLY PILGRIM All on the altar. Blessed surprise — The veil of the carnal removed from my eyes. No bitterness now my pleasure divides; 'Tis sweetness alone where the Saviour abides! All on the altar. Blest be His name, Jesus has borne for me sorrow and shame! Bought my redemption! Henceforth at His feet, Humbly I'll bask in His sunshine so sweet! All on the altar. Words cannot bear What the heart feels when Jesus is there! I in my Saviour, He only in me, — Oh, what a foretaste of rapture to be! THE HIDDEN GEM Once rugged and rough a rude rock lay, Thrown aside and spurned as well, Till its heart was broke, and out to-day A beautiful diamond fell. How often in sin a poor soul seems Like the rock on which men frown, Till the touch of love, and out there gleams A gem for the Saviour's crown! AND OTHER POEMS 25 WHAT WOULD JESUS DO? " What would Jesus do ? " said a maiden fair, As she weighed her life with pensive air, — " What would the Saviour do ? " And she viewed her home so rich and grand, With comfort and ease on ever}' hand, And sighed, " Ah, if I knew " She thought of the years she had spent in vain, In living for self and pleasure's train; — All wasted now they seemed. And a tear stole down her face upturned From the depths of her girlish heart that yearned To be all she had dreamed. On her bended knee, with tear-stained cheek, She murmured, " O Christ, thou knowest how weak A child I am of Thine; Canst thou not strengthen my fainting heart, And bid me to share some humble part Of ministry divine ? " She rose with her youthful heart aglow With that joyous thrill those only know Who give to Christ their all; And soon with an impulse, new and sweet, She was gliding along the city street Past mansions grand and tall. 26 THE HEAVENLY PILGRIM On and on she sped, till she entered in At a humble cot where pale and thin A dying mother lay. Not a Christian hand had soothed that brow With fever burned, nor had told her how The Christ could be her stay. Then her girlish fingers, soft and white, Flew here and there with touch so light They seemed an angel's hand. The room was tidied, the parched lips bathed, Choice dainties prepared and the hot brow swathed, And the fainting sufferer fanned. The little ones, too, were cleansed and fed, And told how the blessed Saviour said, The children, dear, might come. Then her skillful hands swept o'er the keys Of the organ worn, till sweet melodies Filled all the lowly home. How she sang with eyes too full for sight, Of " Rest for the weary," " There'll be no night," And " Rock of Ages " blest. Then she knelt beside the pallet bare, And poured out her heart in fervent prayer To Him who giveth rest. Then " Just as I am, without one plea, But that Thy blood was shed for me," She sang with flowing eyes; AND OTHER POEMS 27 THE CONSECRATION OF A LIFE " What would Jesus do? " said a maiden fair, As she weighed her life with pensive air, — " What would the Saviour do ? " 28 THE HEAVENLY PILGRIM While over that sufferer's face so worn Spread a light it never yet had borne, — Reflected from the skies. Then a tender kiss, and a message sweet, And a girlish form flew down the street With joy all new within. And never before did she understand Why the Saviour left all heaven grand To die for souls in sin. " What would Jesus do ? " How this question turns The mind from self to the Christ who yearns To make each heart His shrine. And, oh, the bliss that banishes care, When with Him 'tis ours some part to share Of ministry divine! LOVE — CONSTRAINED 'Tis never hard to sacrifice, When tender love constrains us; To be denied the privilege, Is what most deeply pains us. When Jesus died for men, 'twas love Far deeper than a mother's; And those who share that love, like Him, Lay down their lives for others! AND OTHER POEMS 29 THE WONDROUS BLESSING There was a thirsting in my soul, A hunger in my breast, A longing still unsatisfied For sweet, unbroken rest; I knew not how to find it then — Praise God, I do to-day! The precious, all-atoning blood Has washed my sin away. For long I dared not hope that I Might full salvation win; That such a blessing could be mine While in this world of sin; But when I consecrated all, And vowed the world to tell, With waves of peace and purity The fire from heaven fell! 'Twas not for aught that I had done The wondrous blessing came; My dearth of toil and sacrifice Had filled my heart with shame; 'Twas Jesus, who, for such as I, Paid all upon the tree! Whose tears and blood in anguish flowed To cleanse and make me free! 30 THE HEAVENLY PILGRIM So now my soul delights itself In Canaan's richest spoil; Grows fat on honey, milk and grapes, And corn and wine and oil; And, oh, the blessed victory That keeps my soul aflame, Since that sweet day the Comforter Into my poor heart came! ONLY A WORD 'Twas only a word to a wanderer far, And the speaker quite broke down, But the Truth went home, and another star Was won for a golden crown. JESUS IS MINE Whether a mansion, a cot, or a cave, Whether a monarch, a subject, or slave, How could my soul for a moment repine — Jesus is mine! Once 'twas for honor and wealth that I craved; Fell at the feet of Ambition enslaved; But, oh, what rapture, I've found a new shrine - Jesus is mine! AND OTHER POEMS 31 Into my heart the dear Saviour has come; Chosen and cleansed it to be his own home; Now I no longer for other joys pine — Jesus is mine! « Though griefs be many, and pleasures be few, Though loved ones leave me and friends prove untrue, There's one who'll never withdraw nor decline — Jesus is mine! Though years may gather, and brown locks grow gray, Though plans be broken, and hopes flee away, Still I will sing, as my gold they refine — Jesus is mine! Jesus is mine! Oh, how sweet is that word! Tenderest chords of affection are stirred! He to my soul is the Lover Divine! — Jesus is mine! Jesus forever! In joy, or in pain; Jesus in poverty, labor, or gain; Jesus on earth, or where angel hosts shine — Jesus is mine! Jesus forever! Jesus forever! Blessed Redeemer, He'll leave me no never! Nothing from me can my precious Lord sever — Jesus is mine! 32 THE HEAVENLY PILGRIM MY PRAYER O Lord, give me that inner sight, That unseen beauty sees; The ear that hears, through error's night, Truth's coming victories. Give me the faith that never makes Of human flesh its arm; But on Jehovah's Promise stakes The issue — and is calm. Give me the Spirit's power to meet All foes that may assail; The grace to keep me firm and sweet When wrong seems to prevail. Give me a heart that loves when all Around unlovely seems; That throbs with hope when pillars fall, And fade life's fondest dreams! Give me a mind so stayed on Thee, A trust so calm and sure, That kept in perfect peace I'll be, And to the end endure. AND OTHER POEMS 33 AN OLD-TIMER'S EXPERIENCE With compliments to Dr. and Mrs. P. F. Bresee Well, wife, I've found the church at last We've longed once more to know; I worshipped there this Sabbath morn, And, oh, how grace did flow! Excuse me, dear, I scarce can eat, I've been so richly fed; In forty years I've never been To such a Gospel spread. It seemed that God had opened wide The windows up above, And poured upon my thirsty soul A cataract of love. My cup is running over now; I've got to let it out; Oh, glory, hallelujah! wife, It does me good to shout. I'll tell you how it happened, dear; As I strode up the walk I spied a modest-looking church Aside about a block; A stranger said 'twas " holiness " — That word for years so sweet; I entered with the worshippers And found a pleasant seat. 34 THE HEAVENLY PILGRIM It seemed like good old times again, The people dressed so plain; You'd know at once they lived for Christ And not for worldly gain; And folks who looked like they were poor Were not put in the rear; The ushers led them near the front, Where they'd be sure to hear. I saw a brother, old and deaf, Much like myself, you know; His clothes were worn, and timidly He took the farthest row; But then a noble brother came, The aged saint to greet, And led him by his trembling arm Up to the nearest seat. The preacher did not speculate, — He said the Word was true; And told how Christ has still the power To save us through and through. He took us back to Eden's fall, Then down man's sinful track To Calvary and Pentecost, Where man gets Eden back. He told of all the hunger deep That fills the Christian's soul, Who has not consecrated all And been made fully whole; AND OTHER POEMS 35 THE PENITENT SINNER / tell you, wife, it stirred my soul To see the mourners sweep Up to that bench, like good old times, And cry aloud and weep. 36 THE HEAVENLY PILGRIM He pictured out the wilderness, And all the trials there, Then painted in the richest hues The land of Canaan fair. The fields and hills and vineyards, too, Pomegranates ripe and red, The milk and honey, oil and wine, And corn for giant's bread, Till I felt all must long to wade Right through the Jordan's tide, And settle in that blissful land Forever to abide. And how my soul did leap for joy To hear the preacher say: " Now if some of God's children here Would find this land to-day, Just leave the wilderness behind, With all its doubts and fears, And gather round the altar-rail And pray till Heaven hears." And sinners and backsliders, too, He warned to flee from wrath, And begged them leave the world's broad way And take the narrow path. I tell you, wife, it stirred my soul To see the mourners sweep Up to that bench, like good old times, And cry aloud and weep. AND OTHER POEMS 37 And when the Holy Spirit came, Oh, what a time we had! Some marched, some shouted, and some sang; Some frowned like they were mad. But I just sat me down and wept, Like those in Ezra's day, Who saw God's temple rise again — My lot seemed just that way. That meeting was like those sweet days When you and I were young; I'll not forget the shouting, dear, And how we prayed and sung; Nor how some traveled up and down The aisles with face aglow, And plead with souls to give up all, And full salvation know. The singing, wife, I can't describe; It blessed my spirit so; Some hymns were new, and some were those That we sung years ago. There was no choir to do it all; The congregation sang; And when they struck, " All hail the power," It seemed all heaven rang! The dear old brother just in front Forgot about his clothes; And as the inspiration gained His spirit also rose; 38 THE HEAVENLY PILGRIM He sang with all his might and main, " Let angels prostrate fall, Bring forth the royal diadem, And crown him Lord of all! ' He could not see the leader clear, His deafness bothered, too, And he had half a line to sing When all the rest were through; But on he sang with trumpet voice, And finished up alone — Through flooded eyes he seemed to see The Lamb upon His throne! I could not help it, wife, but I Lost sight of earthly things; I seemed to see my Saviour, too, The blessed King of kings; My heart was melted at the sight- My tears fell to the floor; I shouted as I have not done In forty years and more! Well, wife, I can't describe the half, With this poor stammering tongue; But all my soul is filled with love, And I feel strangely young; And let us now, till our frail bark On heaven's strand is beached, Join those who worship at the church Where perfect love is preached. AND OTHER POEMS 39 lufc m THE OLD-TIMER REJOICING J shouted as I have not done In forty years and more! 40 THE HEAVENLY PILGRIM YOU CAN SHINE Though, like Moses, you're not gifted, You can shine; Though you're not a Paul or Wesley, You can shine; In the town or in the city, Foes may curse or friends may pity, — If you've found the promised blessing You will shine! Though you may not head a movement, You can shine! Though you're not called to the pulpit, You can shine! In the school or shop or household, When the trials pile up tenfold, — If the Spirit is abiding You will shine! When the little testings throng you, You can shine; When the mighty battle's on you, You can shine; When the tide is running highest, Or the meeting seems the driest, — If you really have the blessing You will shine! If the blood has cleansed you wholly, You will shine! AND OTHER POEMS 41 If you feed on milk and honey, You will shine! Then each look and word and action Will bespeak sweet satisfaction, And while love keeps burning in you You will shine! If your heart with love is burning, You will shine! And your daily life reflect A light divine! If your all is on the altar, And the Comforter abides, — If you really have the blessing You will shine! THE SOUL'S GRANDEUR Oh, the deep and ever deepening Wonders of the human soul! Oh, the cataracts of passion! Oh, the seas of love that roll! Oh, the dark and gloomy caverns, Where the light has never gleamed! Oh, the mines of wealth and beauty, Where the love of Christ has beamed! Crowning glory of creation! Towering like some peak untrod, 42 THE HEAVENLY PILGRIM Sun-kissed and alone outreaching All the handiwork of God! Keyed to catch the feeble impulse Of the lowest creature-love! Strung to feel the mighty heart-throbs Of the Infinite above! Who can tell the nameless longing That within the soul doth lie! Yearnings that earth's wealth and beauty Hold no charms to satisfy! Kingly crowns and court and empire, Or the wreaths of fame's elite, Leave a still unsated craving Only God Himself can meet! Like a world swung from its orbit, Wand'ring through the regions vast* Li'.e a iand-lark from its meadow, Far upon the ocean cast; Like a lily, pure and lovely, Torn and trampled in the sod, Is the soul that sin has severed From the Father-heart of God. Ah, but where's the dreaming poet, Who in numbers can display; Where the painter, who on canvas Rarest beauties can portray; Where the magical musician, Who can strike the sweetest chord; — AND OTHER POEMS 43 That can half express the grandeur Of a soul at one with God ? Language owns herself a pauper; Fairest colors hide their face; Loftiest strains of master-music Seek in vain those heights of grace; Broader than the boundless ocean, Deeper than the deep blue sea, Is that bliss that none may fathom Till he fathoms Diety! ISN'T IT NICE HE KNOWS A bouquet of comforting thoughts for my esteemed friend and long-patient sufferer, Miss Myrta Peel. Isn't it nice when you feel weak To know God's might ? Or, when you're pressed, know where to seek Help in the fight ? Isn't it nice to have a Friend that you Can always trust to bring you safely through ? Isn't it nice when all seems wrong To feel God knows ? And trusting Him just sing your song In sweet repose ? Isn't it nice that He can look way down Your heart of hearts and smile while others frown ? 44 THE HEAVENLY PILGRIM Isn't it nice when you are lone To feel God near ? When sorrows come you ne'er have known To share His cheer ? Isn't it nice that still there is a breast Where every aching heart can find sweet rest ? Isn't it nice in pain and such To know God's care ? To feel His tender, healing touch In answered prayer ? Isn't it nice He knows each heart's distress, And waits with outstretched arms to soothe and bless ? AT THY FEET, LORD At Thy feet, Lord, at Thy feet, Earthly bitter turns to sweet; There I lay my burdens down, When my heart is overborne — Trials, troubles, great and small, At Thy feet I lay them all. At Thy feet, Lord, at Thy feet, All Thy saints in spirit meet; Sundered far though they may be, Some o'er land and some o'er sea, Yet o'er wires unseen there dart Messages from heart to heart. AND OTHER POEMS 45 At Thy feet, Lord, at Thy feet, Chaff is winnowed from the wheat; Richer grows the character Of the soul found often there; Thoughtful speech and gentleness More and more bestow their grace. At Thy feet, Lord, at Thy feet, There I find communion sweet; Fondly linger, loath to move, Billowed on a sea of love; Wafted oft' on joyous swell Into bliss unspeakable! At Thy feet, Lord, at Thy feet, Thoughts of heaven grow more sweet; Earth joys fade, and in their place Fairer dreams of Thy dear face, Till it seems love's gravity Fain would lift my soul to Thee! SCATTER THE SEED Scatter seeds of Truth about you, They will not die. Though some scorn and some mistreat you, Yet some blood-washed souls will meet you In the sky! 46 THE HEAVENLY PILGRIM NEHEMIAH ON THE WALL Nehemiah rode from Babylon Up to Jerusalem; He found the walls all broken down, His countrymen in shame; His heart was sad, for once the world With Zion's fame was filled; He vowed if God would prosper him, The wall again he'd build. Then as he told the Jews, they said, " Let us rise up and build; These gateways and these breaches, too, Shall every one be filled." But when Sanballat and Tobiah, And Geshem heard the news, They laughed the enterprise to scorn, And mocked the feeble Jews. Then Nehemiah answered them, " Our God will see us through; We will arise and build the wall In spite of all you do; You have no lot nor part within Jerusalem at all; Our dead, not yours, lie buried here, We will rebuild the wall! " AND OTHER POEMS 47 Then every man a weapon held Within his hand and wrought; And up the wall rose rapidly In spite of heathen sport; So Nehemiah then they tried To stop with art and frown, But he replied, " I'm doing a work So great I can't come down." So on amid intrigue and scorn, They worked with might and main; The gaps were filled, the doors were hung, The wall was whole again; And then a week of jubilee The Jews could well afford; But, oh, their foes were much cast down,— They saw 'twas wrought of God ! But once again fair Zion's wall Is sadly broken down; And at the few who will be true, The lukewarm scoff and frown; But, with the God of Nehemiah, We will not fear at all, But sing and shout, and work and pray, — We will rebuild the wall! Nehemiah on the wall! Nehemiah on the wall! Sanballat couldn't frighten him, Nor get him down at all! 48 THE HEAVENLY PILGRIM He had the blessing Peter found, — Oh, give us more to-day, Who'll build the wall in spite of all Sanballats do or say! TO-MORROWS NEVER COME To-morrow's phantom bridge, or fancied ill, Steals oft our present joy fulness away; But those who learn to-morrows never come, Are happy, trusting God just for to-day. THE FIRE OF PENTECOST Our fathers worshipped God in truth, And in the Spirit, too, And perfect love burned in their hearts In pulpit and in pew; Their words were clothed with holy fire, They felt what life had cost, And sinners wept and plead because They knew that they were lost. Their preaching was the simple truth; Not of the modern kind, That treats of some dogmatic fad To please the carnal mind; AND OTHER POEMS 49 But like the words that Peter spoke, They pierced the sinner through, And showed him pardon for his guilt, And grace to cleanse him, too. The house of God was holy kept; Within its sacred walls The fickle led no worldly sports, No fairs nor festivals; No merchandise by sinners there Was either bought or sold; They made and kept their temples pure, As Jesus did of old. They had the Spirit's power within, And loved to pray and shout; Which stirred the country all around, And brought the people out; And whether church, or lowly cot, Their meeting-house became, Still burned like fire within their hearts The pentecostal flame! O sad, sad change! Has all the salt Its pristine savor lost ? Shall Satan smother by his power The fire of Pentecost ? Ah, no, the arm of God is bare, A frowning world shall see, That He who conquered death and hell Can still give victory! 50 THE HEAVEN LT PILGRIM Oh, bring us back again the days That Paul and Silas knew! When Wesley preached and sang those songs That pierced the sinner through! The days our fathers toiled and wept, And felt the old-time power! Let pentecostal fire come down Upon our hearts this hour! AN UNANSWERED PRAYER I prayed a prayer in deep despair, I know it reached the Throne, For in my breast I felt that rest Unnumbered hearts have known, Who've plead their cause with tear and word, Till something whispered: "Thou art heard." He did not say on just what day The answer would be given; But He knows best, And so I rest With soul serene as heaven. And, if He tarry, I will wait, — He never comes one moment late! AND OTHER POEMS 51 AN EXHORTER OF THE OLD SCHOOL The days our fathers toiled and wept, And felt the old-time power! 52 THE HEAVEN LT PILGRIM THE JOY-BELLS Joy-bells, joy-bells, hear them gladly ringing! Sweet as happy angels up in heaven singing! How they make the heart to swell, Till no human tongue can tell Half the blissful rapture that salvation tide is bringing! Joy-bells, joy-bells, music sweet as heaven, To the saddened souls who've had their sins for- given ! And their tones the sweeter fall On the hearts who've given all, And have found the blessed land for which they've fondly striven! Joy-bells, joy-bells, may their silver singing Reach the darkened multitudes, full salvation bringing! Then their notes will never die, For that multitude on high, In one mighty chorus will set all of heav'n ringing! AND OTHER POEMS 53 JESUS KNOWS Blessed be . . . the God of all comfort; who com- forteth us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort them which are in trouble, by the comfort wherewith we ourselves are comforted of God. — 2 Cor. i. 3, 4. Have you little daily trials, hard to bear ? Testings that earth's dearest loved ones cannot share? Then to you a wondrous secret I'll disclose — When you've troubles, just remember, — Jesus knows. Are you often sick and tired through and through ? But you do not wish to burden others, too ? Then for you the " Balm in Gilead " freely flows - Tell Him all your pain and suffering — Jesus knows. Do the clouds of sorrow sometimes cross your sky ? Bringing tears that human comfort cannot dry ? Then remember there's a bosom for repose — Tell it to the " Man of Sorrows " — Jesus knows. Does the storm of fierce temptation sometimes sweep, Till it seems your bark will founder in the deep ? Then remember that, no matter how it blows, You can always gain the victory — Jesus knows. 54 THE HEAVENLY PILGRIM Do you toil and sacrifice for others' good ? Then oft' find your motives harshly misconstrued ? Does your heart bleed, sometimes, wounded not by foes ? Think of Him friends mocked and murdered — Jesus knows. Do the ones you love the dearest fail to see Aught that's lovely in your life or purity ? Do they blindly try your footsteps to oppose ? So did loved ones your Redeemer — Jesus knows Do you see beyond some broader harvest field ? And you'd gladly there a larger sickle wield ? But instead another fellow-toiler goes ? Labor on, though but a gleaner — Jesus knows. Do you sometimes fear your service is so small That in heaven you may wear no crown at all ? Have your plans for His sake perished like the rose ? Then rejoice! you'll share His glory — Jesus knows ! Jesus knows, yes, He knows, All your struggles, all your trials Jesus knows; So whatever Love may send, Don't forget your dearest Friend, But in smiles or tears remember, — Jesus knows! AND OTHER POEMS 55 A BEAUTIFUL LEGEND Two monks at eve, the rtory goes, Were wont to sing before repose A hymn of praise. One night a stranger joined their song With voice so musical and strong They ceased to sing and listened long, Wrapt in amaze. Ah, sighed the two, if we could sing So grand the praises of our King, What joy were ours; But now, alas, the flight of time Hath robbed us of our notes sublime, That once arose a golden chime From out these bow'rs. Next morn an angel met their gaze And asked, " Why was no hymn of praise At evening sung ? " They hasted then to tell how one Had raised the song with such sweet tone That all around the walls of stone Had gladly rung. " But not a note reached to the skies," The angel said. " Learn not to prize The highest art. 56 THE HEAVENLY PILGRIM Though rich and grand such seem to thee, And thine own strains discordant be, Still sing! for heaven's melody Springs from the heart." Then did the aged monks rejoice, To know in heav'n 'tis not the voice The King doth prize. For music that's divine is born Of hearts where holy love alone Doth truly dwell. No artful tone Can reach the skies. What comfort sweet this tale should bring To those who have no voice to sing With birdlike tone. For every heart that throbs with love Doth vibrate with the harps above, Where myriads, pure as Jordan's Dove, Play round the throne! BLEST SECRET PLACE Into the secret place I hie, — Alone with God; No other cherished presence nigh, — Only my Lord; The busy, cumbered world I leave behind, And sweetest rest from all life's burdens find. AND OTHER POEMS 57 Blest secret place! How dear to me Thy sacred bow'rs; How often memory turns to thee, Sweet golden hours; My paradise in thee I long have found, And soothing balm for every bleeding wound. Oh, may my love for thee increase Each passing day; No earthly care tempt me to cease To watch and pray; And when on heaven's shore all joy shall blend, What hours of sweet communion there I'll spend! THE SWEETEST HOURS I KNOW Let others tell with ecstacy Of their hours of deepest joy, When pleasure's cup seems nearest full Of the bliss without alloy, But oh, to me, of all the hours That upon my life-stream flow, The ones I spend with Christ alone Are the sweetest hours I know! Some find their pleasure in the dance, With its subtle power to sway; Some buy their only hours of joy At the passion-stirring play; 58 THE HEAVENLT PILGRIM But higher are the joys I feel Than the sun from earth below! And, best of all, the hours with Christ Are the sweetest hours I know! I've loved ones that are near and dear, And the ties that bind are sweet; And when communion we enjoy, The hours are far too fleet; But after all that human love In its fullness can bestow, The hours I spend with Christ alone Are the sweetest hours I know! I love to hear the preached Word, As it falls from lips of fire, With truth to feed my hungry soul And my flagging faith inspire; And how my heart is filled when I To the hour of worship go. But the secret hours alone with Christ Are the sweetest hours I know! There is a tender fellowship That the tongue cannot express, That binds as one the hearts that know Of the sweets of holiness, And oft we linger to commune, While the hours too swiftly go; But though so blest, those spent with Christ Are the sweetest hours I know! AND OTHER POEMS 59 Life has its sorrows and its joys, And they come to one and all; And how it soothes the heart when tears Of compassion for us fall; But when my cup of bliss is full, Or the tears of sorrow flow, The hours I share it all with Christ Are the sweetest hours I know! He's coming back to earth again, For His long-expectant bride; And through the air we'll wing our way With the blood-washed to His side; And then forever with the Lord We shall be, while ages flow; And, oh, what bliss, if with Him now Are the sweetest hours I know! THE LITTLE FOXES 'Tis little foxes spoil the vines; The large ones are so big That we just watch them while, alas, Our vines go twig by twig. 'Tis not some great temptation, friend, So oft the soul ensnares; Life's little trials, mostly, steal Our blessings unawares. 60 THE HEAVENLY PILGRIM NO HOME IN HEAVEN " No time to pray! I'm too busy, you see; For it's work, work, all the day, Till I'm tired as can be; I'm very sorry that things go this way, But it's no use — I've no time to pray." "No time to read! " A church member? " Oh, yes; But I've four children to feed, And two of them to dress, And a hundred other things. I'm agreed God's Word helps one, but I've no time to read." " No time to think! There are so many things To see to — dishes, floors, sink And all, while baby clings About my skirts; I scarcely stop to drink. Religion's grand, but I've no time to think." " No time to serve! I'm too busy, I sayj It takes all my strength and nerve At home from day to day; There are others with plenty of reserve — Let them do such work — I've no time to serve." AND OTHER POEMS 61 No home in heaven! Cumbered with many cares, Richest blessings, freely given, Lost daily, unawares! Poor soul! When toil shall close at life's last even, How sad 'twill be to hear, " No home in heaven! " " No time to die! " What if Christ had said thus ? Why leave the splendors on high To die for worms like us ? But He did! and who could withhold aught ? I Am so glad my Saviour found time to die! "No time?" Take some! " When I've lots to do ? " Yes! Break away from life's humdrum, — God is waiting to bless! Let Heaven's bright sunshine into your home! If you have no time to take, then make some! JESUS CHRIST IS MARCHING ON! The sound of heaven's tocsin is resounding near and far, Calling every loyal soldier to prepare for Zion's war; Let us then take God's whole armor and His regi- mentals wear, — Jesus Christ is marching on! 62 THE HEAVENLY PILGRIM Two thousand years have vanished since they nailed Him to the tree; And they thought for sure they'd killed Him on the hill of Calvary; But He conquered death and hell, and then arose triumphantly, — Jesus Christ is marching on! They killed His brave apostles, and they martyred millions more, For they thought their fiendish venom could annihi- late His pow'r; But while they are dead and buried, and have faded like the flow'r, Jesus Christ is marching on! Again all hell is trying, in a new and subtle way, To destroy the church of Jesus through formality's decay; But the Victor of the ages fills the devils wit! dismay, — Jesus Christ is marching on! And now from where Atlantic tosses up her billows grand, To the West where old Pacific gently laves her golden strand, God is raising up an army that will compass sea and land, — Jesus Christ is marching on! AND OTHER POEMS 63 Then soldiers of Emmanuel go forward in the fray; Proclaim the truth of holiness, of sin all washed away; Awake the dying millions e'er the Judgment's awful day- Jesus Christ is marching on! I DREAM OF THAT CITY There's a beautiful city up yonder, Where no night ever darkens the sky, And I read with amazement and wonder Of my home in the " sweet bye and bye." Its walls are of loviest jasper; Its gates are of lily-white pearl; And nothing defiling can enter; No flag of distress there unfurl. In this world there are many attractions, For its ties are both tender and strong, Yet the heart may be free from distractions When Jesus has turned it to song; But, oh, when the battle seems turning, Or my burden's too heavy to bear, There steals o'er my heart such a longing To go where there's never a care! There the prophets and martyrs are gathered Those who laid down their lives to be true; And there are the millions who suffered As martyrs the world never knew! 64 THE HEAVENLY PILGRIM Some famished alone on the hillside; Some sang till the flames stilled their song; And some gave their lives in the homestead, Who'd gladly have rescued the throng! There are those I have known in my life-day, Who have gone where no sun needs to shine; In our joys we were happy as May-day — In our sorrows their tears flowed with mine; They left me with heart broke and bleeding, Till the Saviour's own love soothed my pain; Now over and over I'm singing Of the home where no heart aches again! I think of the crowns and the sceptres, And the music that floats on the air; Of the angels and saints of all ages, And the loved ones I long to meet there; But brightest and best of its glories, And the One that I long most to see, Is the Saviour who left all its splendors To redeem a poor sinner like me! Oh, I dream of that beautiful city, For it charms me by night and by day; And the burdens and toils grow less heavy As I sing like the birds blithe and gay! Oh, I dream of its splendors unspoken, Of its mansions and streets of pure gold; But methinks they will all be forgotten, When the face of the Lamb I behold! AND OTHER POEMS 65 EMPTY-HANDED INTO HEAVEN When the silver cord of life is loosed at last, And earth's golden opportunities are past, If I'm saved, yet empty-handed, were there tears Shed in heaven I should weep o'er wasted years. Empty-handed into heaven ? No! oh, no! For the wealth and fame of worlds I would not go! How could I be happy with no sheaves to bring ? No one rescued out of darkness for my King ? When the wounded hands and feet of Christ I see, And the brow that wore the crown of thorns for me; When He tells me that His heart broke for all men— If I'm empty-handed, where will bliss be then ? Should I scarcely slip within the pearly gate, Just in time to miss the verdict of, "Too late!" Only then to hear it said, " No stars for thee! " Could I sing among the star-crowned joyfully ? Empty-handed into heaven ? No, oh, no! Blessed Saviour, may I never, never go! By thy help I'll tell, in palace and in street, To the sad and lost redemption's story sweet. Then some blissful day, vphen life's poor toil is o'er, And the angels waft my soul to heaven's shore, I shall not hear Thee murmur, " Nothing but leaves! " When I with glad heart lay down my golden sheaves. 66 THE HEAVENLY PILGRIM MY MARY Who is it that through toilsome years Has shared my hopes and calmed my fears, And oft has soothed my pain with tears ? — My Mary. Who was it that in childhood sweet, Like her of old sought Jesus feet, And found in Him her joy complete ? — My Mary. Who was it that in youth's bright hours, When all around bloomed pleasure's flow'rs, To Christ gave gladly all her pow'rs ? — My Mary. Who is it now, in woman's prime, Like Pilgrim scales those heights sublime, Where often floats sweet heaven's chime ? — My Mary. Who will it be, some glad day sweet, I'll find on heaven's golden street, Her starry crown at Jesus' feet ? — My Mary. MARY EVERETT PIERCE PART SECOND SONGS IN MANY KEYS AND OTHER POEMS 69 BRAVE DOROTHY LEE Come gather around me, children dear, I'll tell you a story you'll love to hear; How Dorothy Lee, just eleven, I think, Came up to a bridge at the river's brink, And saw that the beams were all afire And the flames fast mounting higher and higher. She watched as the timbers, black and burned, Fell where the waters foamed and churned. Then quickly her heart most stopped with fright, For there, as she gazed on the raging sight, She remembered that now was the very time When the fast express was due. To climb To the tracks and stop it was then the thought That burned in her breast. She had been taught That a girl should be both brave and true, But, " Oh," she cried, " what shall I do ? " Up the track she ran, but she was too small, She felt quite sure, to stop it at all. Then she thought how God could answer prayer, For she had been taught of His love and care; So she quickly dropped on her girlish knees And said, " Dear Lord, won't you help me, please ?" Far up the track the long whistle blew, Nearer and nearer the swift train drew! " Please help me, Lord! " once again she prayed. 70 THE HEAVENLT PILGRIM Then she remembered how some one had said That red was the signal of danger men used. " But where shall I find such a banner ? " she mused. " Your petticoat's red," a voice seemed to speak. In a moment 'twas off", and like a bright streak The strangest of flags was swung to and fro, As tree-tops are swayed when the summer winds blow. Ah, the engineer sees it, and springing like steel The throttle is in, and the brakes hug each wheel! The dashing train stops at the chasm so great, And hundreds are saved from a terrible fate! So glad was the throng, some laughed and some wept; For there right before them the cataract swept. And men with big tears just filling their eyes Caught the little girl up, all abashed with surprise, And bore her about on their shoulders so broad, While the multitude cheered her and many thanked God. And Frenchmen were there, both noble and grand, Who told her brave deed in their own native land; And France quickly voted that she should belong To the Legion of Honor — a hero among The brave of all ages! And also that she Might come to their schools, far over the sea, And visit the wonderful things that entrance, All free as a guest of the people of France! AND OTHER POEMS 71 So that is the story of Dorothy Lee, Whose brave deed was told far over the sea. Whose thoughtful mamma had taught her to pray, And ask the kind Saviour to help her each day. And let you and me, when troubles arise, Like Dorothy pray to the Lord in the skies! NO PRAYER IN THE PILLOW " Not going to say my prayers to-night," And Susie climbed in bed, While Nellie softly bowed in prayer Her pretty golden head. With Susie something seemed all wrong; She could not sleep a bit; And soon she caught her pillow up And gave it such a hit. " It ain't got any sleep in it! " Poor Susie almost cried; And then she closed her eyes once more, But turned from side to side. Then Nellie in a gentle voice, Poor Susie's trouble hit, — " The pillow's wrong, I guess," she said; " There is no prayer in it." 72 THE HEAVENLY PILGRIM Then quickly from the downy bed A little maiden slid, And in the quilts, with flowing curls, A clouded face was hid. Then softly rose in whispered tones, — " I lay me down to sleep," And then ten pretty, chubby toes Back into bed did creep. Soon all is still, with happy dreams; The darlings are asleep; And round their pretty, golden heads The angels watching keep. MY CHILDHOOD'S HOME The cottage stands beneath the hill, Where years and years agone, Two little barefoot boys we lived And dreamed the dreams forlorn, And where, with low and tuneful song, The river, night and day, Flowed ever on to join the sea And left us there at play. The little chamber, where at eve The moonbeams soft and fair, AND OTHER POEMS 73 Like angel hands fell on our heads Bowed low in childhood's prayer, Is empty now; but memory hears, " I lay me down to sleep," And sees a weary mother long Her faithful watching keep. The island, where in bathing time We built our cataracts, And where while washing precious stones We burned our naked backs, Is just the same; and as I stepped Upon its pebbly shore, I felt the old-time thrill of joy That can be ours no more. The hazel brink, where oft we sat Beneath its leafy shade, When summer's sun was hot, and where In nutting time we strayed, Has vanished all: and o'er the spot, Where we playe.d long ago, The grass grows green, and fragrant knots Of clever blossoms grow. The modest church we loved so well Still decks the village green; Its bell hangs silent now and not A worshipper is seen; Good Parson R — and Deacon F — Long since to rest were lain; 74 THE HEAVENLY PILGRIM Their children know no hell to shun, No heaven here to gain. The little churchyard by the wood, Where, on from year to year, Awaits the dust of those to us Than all the world more dear, Looks desolate; and here and there A slab lies overgrown With dark green moss, and many a grave Is stoneless and unknown. Ah, yes, the dear old cot still stands; But time has left its trace On warping door and sagging beam And paintless window case; But, yet, as long as memory lasts, With pleasure we'll recall The home where passed, of all our days, The happiest days of all! A PRAYER SONG 'Twas only a song, just a simple lay, And sung in the moonlight pale, But the tender words, and the softened air, And the childish voice of the singer fair, Lent a heavenly charm to the tale. AND OTHER POEMS 75 'Twas a little cot by the mountain side, Half hid by the pine-tree shade, And the gentle maid, with her tuneful prayer, That the angels bore through the listening air, Had none but her God to aid. 'Tis many a long, long year ago, Since she sang her song that day, Yet the hallowed light of hei angel face, And the childish trust in her Maker's grace, Can never be banished away. But she s singing now with the sainted throng! Yet oft on the evening air, It seems to return like a dream of wrong, And I listen again to that orphan's song, As she yearns for the Father's care! THE GLAD CHRISTMAS STORY Of all the happy golden days, The Heavenly Father gives us, None can surpass for joy and praise, The gladsome tide of Christmas. How sad and dark the world became, The blessed Bible tells us, Till in a stall, at Bethlehem, Was born the baby Jesus. 76 THE HEAVENLY PILGRIM Within the inn there was no room To place the little Stranger, So in a cattle-cave of gloom They laid Him in a manger. How little dreamed that silent town Of all the midnight wonder, When Christ the Lord of heaven came down To break sin's bands asunder. And to the shepherds, that same night, An angel told the story, And off they hastened with delight, And found the Lord of glory. And then a wondrous star had led The wise men, too, to travel, Far from the East, with weary tread, To see this Kingly Marvel. And when they found the Saviour, dear, Within the lowly manger, They worshipped Him, and presents rare They gave the little Stranger. We love to tell how Jesus came, The blessed Lord of glory, For His is now the sweetest Name In any song or story. AND OTHER POEMS 77 And gifts are dearer when we know That Jesus first was given; For God did love this lost world so He gave His Son from heaven. So let the whole wide world be glad For all the joy it gives us, For how could any one be sad On such a day as Christmas! WHAT SHALL THE RECORD BE ? Past and beyond flies another swift year, Bearing its record for weal or for woe, Pages of blessing and pages austere, Onward to judgment unaltered they go. Up from the gates of the mystic unknown, Comes the New Year with its ledger all white, Waiting to trace for the great Judgment throne All that is evil and all that is right. What shall the record be ? Heaven looks down, Breathlessly waiting the verdict to know. What shall the record be ? Stars for our crown ? Numberless blessings ? — or failure and woe? 78 THE HEAVENLY PILGRIM THE WEEDLESS GARNER What you cannot think with a moral gain, Would better remain unthought; For your busy brain should never stain Your soul with a sinful blot, And the natal link, in the downward chain, At the forge of mind is wrought. What you cannot say in a kindly tone, Would better remain unsaid; For the bitter word that once has flown Has broken the bar that led To the plot where the stainless rose has grown, And planted a weed instead. What you cannot do with a sense of right, Would better remain undone; For a deed of wrong in your Maker's sight May lead to a greater one, And wreck, forever, with ruin's blight, The hopeful life you've begun. Then pray to be kept in the path sublime; Be thoughtful in word and deed; For the germ once sown will shoot and climb, And the fruit resemble the seed; And happiest he at the harvest-time Whose garner contains no weed! AND OTHER POEMS 79 THE CHRISTIAN MOTHER Wash away, scrub away, cooking to do, Sweeping and dusting and righting things, too, Baby to bathe and children to dress, Heaps of things coming all in a mess; Faster and faster the flying feet move, Now in the pantry and now at the stove, Children are crying, and house all awry, While she is hanging the clothing to dry; Faster and faster the flying feet go, Nerves on a tension and strength ebbing low, — Tempter now whispers, " Your lot is too hard; Life would be altered if somebody cared." just for a moment the dark shadow clings; Then it is gone as she cheerfully sings: " The trusting heart to Jesus clings, Nor any ill forebodes, But at the cross of Calv'ry sings, Praise God for lifted loads! " Singing I go along life's road, Praising the Lord, praising the Lord; Singing I go along life's road, For Jesus has lifted my load! " 80 THE HEAVENLY PILGRIM Stitch away, stitch away, mending to do, Little torn dresses and pantaloons, too, Stockings of black and stockings of blue, Mittens and gloves with fingers all through; Faster and faster the bright needle flies, Overworked mother with tears in her eyes; Tired and weary, she sends up a prayer Into the ears of the God who doth care; Faster and faster the bright needle flies, Tears are all gone from the smiling blue eyes; Into her soul a sweet blessing has come, Heavenly Presence is filling the room; All of the drudging has faded away — Hark! she is singing so happy and gay: " I've reached the land of corn and wine, And all its riches freely mine; Here shines undimmed one blissful day, For all my night has passed away. " O Beulah land, sweet Beulah land, As on the highest mount I stand, I look away across the sea, Where mansions are prepared for me, And view the shining glory shore, My heav'n, my home forever more." AND OTHER POEMS 81 THE HOUR OF NEED Overworked mother with tears in her eyes. 82 THE HEAVENLY PILGRIM TO A DISMANTLED ROSE This morn thou wert blooming, And crimson and fair, Thy bosom was filling With sweetness the air; But now it is even, And down with the sun Thy petals are fallen And withered each one Thy blooming is finished, — But others as fair From the branches that bore thee Will sweeten the air; And though thou art faded And withered away, Thy charms in remembrance Shall never decay! So brief is our life-day! We bloom at its dawn, Unfurl in its sunlight — At eve we are gone! But, oh, as unsullied, Dear Saviour, may I Leave after a fragrance That never can die! AND OTHER POEMS 83 THE CABIN HOME The spreading branches sway as free As stormless waves upon the sea, And o'er the cot, so artless made, At noonday cast their leafy shade. With weary limb and moistened brow, The cotter plies the ax and plow; While through the woodland, all the day, His happy children sing at play. At eventide, when work is o'er, And bright along the kitchen floor The mirrored blaze from out the hearth Darts to and fro in silent mirth, — The rustic chairs are drawn around, And childish hearts in fancy bound, As, easy won, their grandsire gray Recounts the wonders of his day. The clash of arms, the daring deed, Of rider bold and dashing steed, Inspire again his warrior zeal, — Nor less than he the children feel. The tale is o'er. The prayers are said. The weary souls are safe in bed. 84 THE HEAVENLY PILGRIM And while the angels watching keep, Refreshing balm is found in sleep. Rude cabin home! God gives to thee, Though not from toil and sorrow free, The richest boon to mortals given, — An unfeigned love — the next is Heaven! THE TREASURED GRAVE Beneath the budding cherry tree, That stands beside the wall, Beneath the branches, where to-day Is heard the bluebird's call, A little mound of faded green, Unknown to stranger, lies — For only friends, kind, loving friends, Can share its tender ties. Betieath this mound one summer day, When all the earth was bloom, A sleeping angel there was lain — It was her chosen tomb — For oft beneath this cherry tree, That stands beside the wall, She'd lingered when the springtime came, To hear the robins call. AND OTHER POEMS 85 And now; when summer breezes bring Their fragrance mild and sweet, An aged man with bended form And slow, uncertain feet, Treads silently through clover-blooms, And lays with loving care A crimson garland on her grave, And whispers low a prayer. For she was all his hope and joy, His tender, loving child; Whose gentle grace and simple trust Had won his heart defiled; Had filled his darkened soul with light; In quiet now she sleeps; And only friends, kind, loving friends, Know where the father weeps. A DEATHLESS SONG A singer sang a Gospel song, A gem from out his only mine; And all his theme was sin's deep wrong And the great Gift of Love divine. No studied phrase or figure he For polished mind — not spirit — used; A soul that loved humanity Through rugged words his light diffused. 86 THE HEAVENLY PILGRIM Some heard his song, but hurried on; Some paused a breath, then passed him by; But one lost soul to Christ it won, And now his song can never die! LOST AND SAVED Lost! lost! forever lost! What word so brief and plain, Can bathe the mirthful eyes with tears And wound the heart with pain, As 'mid the tide of earthly joys, When, all unthought or guessed, The sad news comes that we have lost The joy we loved the best. Yes, sad is this — but sadder still, To live and know that we Were made by God, and through His grace, May live eternally; Yet close our heart, ignore His love, And spurn its awful cost, And find at last our precious soul, To God forever lost! Saved! saved! forever saved! What word so brief and plain, Can dry the tears from weeping eyes And soothe the heart of pain, AND OTHER POEMS 87 As when, 'mid earth's distress and grief, We hear the glad news sound, — That brings for sorrow sweet relief, — The treasured lost is found. Yes, sweet is this — but sweeter still, To live, and know that we Are God's own children and through Christ Shall live eternally; And dwell with Him in that sweet peace Unnumbered hearts have craved, And praise Him for our precious soul, To God forever saved! JUST A LITTLE THING 'Twas only a pebble, small and gray, That rolled in the streamlet's bed one day; But it turned aside the tiny tide, Till far from its native course did glide A mighty torrent deep and wide. Aye, only a pebble, small and gray, But it changed the map of the world that day! 'Twas only a word in an angry tone, That a mother spoke to her baby son; And years have fled since that word was said, And 'tis all forgot, when a murderer red 88 THE HEAVENLY PILGRIM Her own to the felon's death is led. Aye, only a word in an angry tone, But it turned a human heart to stone! 'Twas only a strain of a sweet old hymn, That fell on the ear of a sinner grim; But it turned his gaze to his childhood days, When his mother sang that hymn of praise, And he turned to God from his sinful ways. Aye, only a strain of a sweet old hymn, But it saved the soul of a sinner grim! 'Twas only a tear and a message brief Of love to a soul bowed down in grief; But they filled the air like perfume rare, Around that heart so weighed with care, Till rent was the tempter's subtle snare. Aye, only a tear and a message brief, But they drove the clouds from a soul in grief! " Just a little thing! Never mind," we say, " 'Twill be forgotten, perchance, a day; So we join the throng with a merry song, But the word or deed, though forgotten long, Still bears its fruit for right or wrong. Aye, " only a little thing," we say, But we'll change our minds in the Judgment Day ! AND OTHER POEMS 89 SAVED BY A SONG But it turned his gaze to his childhood days, When his mother sang that hymn of praise, And he turned to God from his sinful ways. 90 THE HEAVENLY PILGRIM THE TWO FLOWERS A little flower, Both sweet and fair, Grew by a shining stream, Within a bower, Unknown to care, And dreamt an endless dream. A little flower, Both sweet and fair, Grew in a parlor bright, And ev'ry hour, With watchful care, Was wet with fingers light. The little flower That grew alone Beside the shining stream, Slept in its bower, And brighter shone, And sweeter grew its dream. The little flower That tender hands Caressed each day with pride, Drooped low and lower, Till in the sands, A worthless plant it died. AND OTHER POEMS 91 These little flowers A moral show, And one that all may see, That lives like ours Will sweeter grow If lived unselfishly ! AT ARNOLD'S HOMESTEAD On the New Brunswick side of the St. Croix River and nearly opposite the city of East port, Me., still stands a dilapidated house built and for a time occu- pied by Benedict Arnold, after the betrayal of his coun- try. Here, to avert the burden of guilt that preyed upon his mind, he engaged in the shipping industry. These statements have been gleaned by the writer from what he deems reliable sources and are doubtless true, A century and more these battered walls Like wardens grim have challenged storm and blast, And now, as one whom life no more recalls, They speak in silent language of the past. The azure sky above, the earth beneath, The tossing waves that course the 'Quoddy Bay, All these the Mighty Hand hath spared; but Death Hath taken him, who knew these scenes, away. 92 THE HEAVENLr PILGRIM Haunted by guilt and spurned by friend and foe, All honor gone that once had shone so clear, No mortal soul but his could feel or know The dreadful pangs that forced his footsteps here. His ships, that proudly sailed these waters o'er, Lie shattered now beneath the surging wave; And soon these walls will brook the blast no more, But seek the dust that fills their maker's grave. No song of bird in gladness breaks the gloom, Nor charm of nature fills the searching eye; Within the walls, 'mid silence deep as tomb, In damp decay the scattered relics lie. The stunted flowers, unknown to friendly care, In numbers few bend o'er the sterile earth, And for their smile a look of sadness wear, That fate to them should bring ignoble birth. A pulsing chill steals through the frame of him Whose footsteps press the sands where once he trod, And fancy sees a form and visage grim, And hears a restless pace along the sward. Sin hath its wage; and wrong to virtue's cause Is but the seed of sorrow and regret. Here once a traitor lived. The law of laws Bids us forgive — but him, who can forget! AND OTHER POEMS 93 MAY BRING BLESSINGS Your faith may bring blessings from heaven, my friend, Of the deepest and richest of God; The sunbeams of love with your labor may blend, And the Spirit's blest fruitage afford; Then your sinning and sorrow, and self-love and care, Will all vanish like shadows at dawn, And your burdens, now heavy and painful to bear, Will decamp like the Arabs at morn. Your smile may bring blessings to some one, my friend, 'Tis the sunshine of love that we need; All your worry and trouble would soon have an end, If you'd never the dark places heed; The world has its millions in sin and despair, And the Christian oft weeps by the way; So a smile may help some one his burden to bear, While a frown may cause some one to stray. Your words may bring blessings of comfort, my friend, If they're spoken in mercy and love; There are hearts that are broken none other may mend — Gently say, "There's no sorrow above." 94 THE HEAVENLY PILGRIM A sentence is fearful, when life is the cost; Often thousands are swept at a breath; But a word of compassion, to one that is lost, May save him from ruin and death. Your life may bring blessings to many, my friend, If 'tis pure like the rays of the sun; There are souls in the meshes of evil's dark trend That from error and sin may be won; And when angels have wafted your spirit on high, Even then, like good Abel of old, Will your influence live, like the stars in the sky, For the blessing of millions untold! THE SALOON-KEEPER Bend low, O man, whose lips profess The love of truth and soberness; Nor deign to lift thy bended knee Before his august majesty! Who talks of law, of wrong deposed ? Let his unhallowed lips be closed. Dry up the tears for human woe; — Before this demigod bow low. Bring out the hearse, ring long the knell, A hundred thousand souls for hell! A hundred thousand, aye, and more, Doomed to the death where hope is o'er! AND OTHER POEMS 95 Hark to the wail of dread despair That pierces through the chill night air, Telling where wanders, homeless and wild, Some naked, starving drunkard's child. Ascend the garret's rickety stair, Behold the pallid mother there; See how her bony fingers fly To earn a crust for hers — or die. Shall it be thus ? And must we fall Beneath this hellish monster's thrall ? Shall we but crouch at his command, And fear to stay his blood-stained hand ? Shall Christian voters dare to pray, And wink at this another day ? Shall men profess a God to trust, And tramp His precepts in the dust ? Great God forbid! Let " murderer " brand This blood-stained outlaw of the land! Let man and womanhood arise, Nor brood in silence o'er these cries! Oh, haste the day whose welcome birth Will light this shadow from the earth! When none shall find within the bowl, The doom of health, the death of soul! 96 THE HEAVENLY PILGRIM SEEDS FOR ETERNITY A simple thing, An idle thought, Winged by our lips And soon forgot; But like the seed, Borne on the wind, Must, near or far, A lodgment find. Within some heart, Or young or old, Unheeded still Its shoots unfold; Yet like the seed In autumn fair, — For right or wrong, — Must fruitage bear. Ah, then weigh well Thy lightest thought, For sowing-time At most is short. And, sown in love, May each seed be For God, right, and Eternity! AND OTHER POEMS 97 THE HIGHER CRITIC Ah, this is the man you've read about, Who is sowing abroad the tares of doubt, With his head all stored with " roots " and " stems " ; And " colloquials " and " idioms " — As a butcher carves a lifeless bird, So he mutilates God's Living Word. In this age of scientific thought, When the brain is throned and soul forgot And the world becomes intoxicated With each new fad inaugurated, Oh, the silly shame that man should rise And the mysteries of God despise! One would think creation's boundless scope Were enough with brightest brains to cope; With the worlds uncounted in the sky, And a pole down South we've yet to spy; With the nameless germs of grim disease For a Koch to " anti "-fy or freeze; With the Wright that can o'er seas be whirled, And the " wireless " phone around the world; With the spread of deeper love for peace, Till the horrid wars of earth shall cease; With a thousand other fields to scan, Why this havoc of God's Word by man ? 98 THE HEAVENLY PILGRIM Till he gives to Lifeless matter birth, And commands the fetid dead come forth; Till he breaks his tomb and walks out free, And defies the law of gravity! Oh, the nerve and pride, unbid, to sit A censor of the Great Infinite! But he does, and they call him " reverent " — As it were, to throw folks " off the scent " — While he works away with pen and shears, Like a butcher without sobs or tears, Till the books of Moses are a sight, And the rest have holes for "newer light." He is sure the " Flood " was just a tale, And that Jonah dreamed about the " Whale "; That " Daniel," whose faith shut lions' jaws, Was simply a saint who never was; And everything that could glorify An Almighty God he gives the lie. But the tares he's sowing he'll have to reap, When the Judge divides the goats and sheep; For a fearful harvest, deep in hell, Will await this pious infidel, Where, among the wrecks of faith he's made, He will curse eternally his trade! AND OTHER POEMS 99 THE TRAGEDY OF THE SOUL How blurred and blind the soul of sinful man To all the grander things of destiny; Absorbed, childlike, with toys, he fails to scan The mountain peaks of life's immensity! Youth comes and goes and manhood slips away, And still his vision fails to pierce the mist; Down like the beast he lies in death's dark day, His soul with heaven's sunshine never kissed! Out o'er that bourne from whence no soul returns, Into the vast eternity he goes; And all too late his dreadful folly learns, When he with Dives wakes to bitter woes! " Oh, God! " he cries, but, ah, too late for prayer; 'Tis not repentance now but pain he feels; Awake, at last, he weeps in wild despair, As down the caverns of the lost he reels! " Too late! too late! " Could souls but hear that wail, Wrung from the lips when hope's last gleam is fled, How they would start and turn with horror pale, And ne'er again the paths of folly tread ! 100 THE HEAVENLY PILGRIM But drugged and drunk with fornication's wine, And hellward hurled by passion's reinless steed, The worldling sweeps to death, more vile than swine, No wrath, no retribution in his creed! Ah, who shall end this vain delusive dream, That waves its magic wand o'er countless souls, Till, like some vast intoxicated stream, They plunge to where hell's awful chasm rolls! Awake! ambassadors of God, awake! Take down the warning trump that long has lain Unused, and blow till sinful hearts shall quake And fear the God of Sinai once again! Peal out the note that Christ hath pow'r to save, And willeth not that any soul shall die; Then blow in thundrous tones the message grave, That Judgment's fearful day is drawing nigh! Ring out the truth that sin must have its wage; That Love will bow to Justice at the last; That when the angel pens life's final page, Salvation's day will be forever past! Proclaim that " second death " beyond the tomb; Tell of the " fixed gulf" and " burning lake; " Blow! ere the blood of souls shall seal your doom! Awake! O watchmen on the walls, awake! THE FAITHFUL AMBASSADOR Ring out the truth that sin must have its wage. That Love will bow to Justice at the last. AND OTHER POEMS 101 THE GOOD OLD-TIME RELIGION To my esteemed friend and co-laborer, L. D. Peavey Some people long for riches, And some are after fame, And some go to the theater And think religion's tame, And some run here, and some run there, To get their poor souls fed, But good old-time religion's A million miles ahead! Some love the world's adorning, Its golden rings and chains, Which often hide their wanting In moral worth and brains, And some crave this, and some crave that, By fickle fancy led, But good old-time religion's A million miles ahead! Some think there's joy in drinking, And squander all for rum, And some seem happy smoking And smelling like a bum, And some chase banquetings and balls, Till they are nearly dead, But good old-time religion's A million miles ahead! 102 THE HEAVENLY PILGRIM Let others follow Satan, And travel sin's broad way, And starve their souls by feeding On husks from day to day, But I'll choose Canaan's corn and wine And holy joy, instead, For good old-time religion's A million miles ahead! Give me a grand good meeting, With Pentecost outpoured, And milk and honey flowing Like heaven can afford, And seekers praying till the skies Their floods of glory shed, — Oh, good old-time religion's still A million miles ahead! DISGUISED BLESSINGS I murmured once, when things awry To all my plans and wishes went — " My wretched luck," I then would sigh, And mourn for days the sad event. But, oh, how changed, since my blind eyes Were opened unseen things to see — Now richest blessings in disguise My greatest trials bring to me! AND OTHER POEMS 103 JUST GONE BEFORE Written on reading of the death of Mrs. Deborah Goodspeed (familiarly known among friends as " Aunt Debbie "), which occurred at her home in Peniac, N.B., November 16, 1908. These lines are dedicated to her sorrowing husband, — " Uncle Ben " " Not dead ? " Oh, no! Just gone before, To the land beyond the sun! Life's toils and troubles all are o'er, The bliss of Heaven begun! As soft as dews at eventide, Calm as a tranquil sea, She crossed the tide to the glory side, With her blessed Lord to be! The world will bicker on its way, The changing seasons come; The rushing trains from day to day Will thunder by the home; The dreamy Nashwaak still will flow To join the briny main; But dear Aunt Debbie ne'er will know These pleasant scenes again. The summer's sun will higher climb, The grasses green will spring; The bobolink in haying-time His cheerful song will sing; 104 THE HEAVENLY PILGRIM The interval, with herd's-grass tall, Will bend before the breeze; And daisies, too, will rise and fall Like billows on the seas. The landscape still will stretch away, With scenes of beauty rare; The orchard trees will bloom in May, And perfume all the air; The bees will gather honey sweet, And swarm before the door; But dear Aunt Debbie's eyes will greet These cherished scenes no more. The children cannot understand Why grandma ne'er appears, To smooth their cheeks with loving hand And kiss away their tears; And Alice weeps and Clarence mourns A mother kind and true, And Mary sobs as thought returns Her girlhood days to view. Dear Uncle Ben, how lonely now The gliding moments seem; Life's many cares have weighed his brow, And all seems like a dream; How full of Heaven's bliss the years That have so swiftly fled; And how through all their joys and tears The Hand of God has led. AND OTHER POEMS 105 And now he loves to take the track To those bright early days, And from the treasured past bring back Love's shining golden rays; Those days when first there sounded out The glorious Gospel Word, That stirred New Brunswick with its shout Of " cleansing through the blood! " And then the scenes of holy joy, With hundreds pressing on To bid adieu to sin's alloy — The wilderness forlorn; And into Canaan's sunny land, With milk and honey blest, To enter at their Lord's command And " find that second rest." And then again how oft return Those sweet camp-meeting days, When every heart with love did burn, And swelled the Saviour's praise; And when, like Deborah of old, The sainted loved one stood, And with a heart o'erflowing told Of Jesus' cleansing blood! Those blissful days are past and gone! Yet sweet their memory clings; And oft again to Uncle Ben They come on angel wings; 106 THE HEAVEN LT PILGRIM And Beulah Camp and many a scene, Where hearts were set aflame, And dearer now by far to him Than ere this parting came. Oh, yes, dear ones feel sad and lone! How changed the old home seems! Such sorrow ne'er its walls have known, Nor yet such golden dreams, 'Tis sad to part, but just before What joys await the soul! On Heaven's shore to part no more While countless ages roll! " We should not sorrow," God hath said, " As those who have no hope;" We do not mourn this saint as dead, And like the heathen grope; She's happy now in Paradise, Where comes no grief or pain, And waits the hour when love's sweet ties Will ne'er be broke again. So let us sing our hymns of praise, Nor waver in the flight; 'Twill only be a few more days Before the morning bright, When we shall say to earth, " Good-bye," And join the blood-washed throng, And sing with all the saints on high The glad Redemption song! AND OTHER POEMS 107 THE SILENT VOICE The tide flows in, and the tide flows out, And the weary hours go by, And I watch and wait, till the evening late, By the billows tossing high, — And the tide comes in, and the tide goes out, And I echo the ocean's sigh. The tide flows in, and the tide flows out, And the waves on the pebbly shore, With a cadence sweet forever repeat A name that is mine no more, — And the tide comes in, and the tide goes out, And I hear not the rush and roar. The tide flows in, and the tide flows out, And the saddened days go by, And I linger still, by the sheltering hill, And call as the waves toss high, — And the tide comes in, and the tide goes out, — But a voice will never reply. The tide flows in, and the tide flows out, And an angel from the skies, Says the one I love is with Christ above In the bliss of Paradise, — And the tide comes in, and the tide goes out, And the cup of my sorrow dries! 108 THE HEAVENLY PILGRIM The tide flows in, and the tide flows out, And I leave the pebbly shore For the pain and mirth of the life of earth, But I'm singing o'er and o'er, — As the tide comes in and the tide goes out, — " We shall meet where they part no more! EVA The birds will come and sing, dear, Their songs as soft and sweet, The clover bloom as freshly Around the arbor seat, And greener still the woodbine Will wreath around the door, But soft-eyed, gentle Eva Will meet with them no more. Our home is not the same, dear, Its brightest light is fled; I miss the tender kisses, I miss the roses red, That bathed in perfume covered My desk each morning o'er; But gentle, loving Eva Will gather them no more. AND OTHER POEMS 109 The autumn leaves will fall, dear, And friends and children come, To join the yearly circle And greet the dear old home; But all will meet in sorrow, And murmur sadly o'er, — " Sweet loving, angel Eva Will meet with us no more." The leaves of life will fall, dear, And friends and children come, To greet again in sorrow The sad and dark old home; But you and I'll not meet them, And sad they'll murmur o'er, — "They've gone with angel Eva, To meet with us no more." THE OLD MAN'S VISION The old man sits in his time-worn chair, With silver threads in his once dark hair. Across his knees, in a playful way, He swings a prattling grandson, gay. The baby sees in his care-worn face The shaded light of its mother's grace, 110 THE HEAVENLY PILGRIM And firmly clings to his palsied arm As if it knew it would shield all harm. The old man looks with his age-dimmed eyes On the smiling babe and sadly sighs; For in that innocent face he seems To behold the one of his youthful dreams. Then gently back, on memory's wing, He is swiftly borne to his life's bright spring, And lives again in the joy and love Of those now gone to the home above. Before him stretches a meadow fair; And he sees a girl with flowing hair, Hand in hand with a bright-eyed boy, Rich in the treasures of love and joy. Daily they roam through its forest of flowers, Building the castles of childhood's hours; Together they stray; and as years roll on, They join their hands and their hearts as one Then softly and gently, as flowers decay, The weaker one falls in a sleep by the way; Then sadly the other — but, " Ma ! " comes a cry, And the old man is wiping a tear from his eye. AND OTHER POEMS 111 THE CHRISTIAN HOSTS ARE MARCHING See the Gospel light is breaking O'er the continents and seas, And the heathen lands are waking From their sleep of centuries; For the Christian hosts are marching To the conquest of the world, And they'll never cease the conflict Until Satan's flag is furled. Nineteen hundred years the sunlight Has been shining out the gloom, Since " The Holy Ghost and fire Glorified the " upper room " 112 THE HEAVENLT PILGRIM And the regiments of Heaven, Clad in armor strong and bright, Fast are sweeping o'er the nations, Putting Satan's host to flight. Be of courage, then, my comrades Let the might of God inspire; For around us Heaven's " horses " Press with "chariots of fire." He that saved us from our sinning, Washed us in His cleansing blood, Will not see our faith confounded While we rest upon His Word. Clear as sun at cloudless midday, And as fair as silver moon, Will the church with victor's banners Shout the final triumph soon; And amid the host of martyrs, Prophets, priests, and kings we'll sing, Till the praise of our Redeemer Makes the golden arches ring! GRACE Grace is the angel of eternal summer-time, Whose minstrelsy Crowns youthful joys, and garnishes for gloomy age Its sunset sky! AND OTHER POEMS 113 SPIRIT-WRECKED Oh, how often like the little tired birdling, That has winged its way far out upon the sea, Tempest-tossed and weighed with mist and briny spraying, Beating back to land again nigh hopelessly, Is the soul that's drifted far out o'er life's ocean, Lured by many a false mirage away from shore, Famishing and spirit-wrecked by sin's fierce billows, Seeking now the haven of God's love once more. Birdling, do not venture o'er the stormy billows — Scores like thee have found a grave beneath the foam! Brother, chase no more the forms of fleeting pleas- ure — Millions never find again the pathway home! Who can ever tell the sorrows, pains, and heart- aches, Of the weary, hopeless wand'rer o'er life's sea, As he sinks at last beneath sin's angry billows, Lost to God and love and home eternally! 114 THE HEAVENLY PILGRIM SOON COMES HEAVEN Onward sweeps the blood-washed army, Do you hear it ? Shouting rends the morning balmy, — Do you hear it ? Down the ages she's been tramping, Nearer final victory camping, — Hark! again the bugle's trumping, — Do you hear it ? Willing volunteers are wanted, — Will you be one ? Men who'll face the foe undaunted, — Will you be one ? Poverty and wounds of spirit Every soldier may inherit, But how grand with Christ to share it,- Will you be one ? Fighting days will soon be over, — Then comes heaven! What if now 'tis not all clover ? — Soon comes heaven! Then we'll reign with our Commander Where there's everlasting splendor, And no earthly trials ponder, When comes heaven! ■JM 5 i One copy del. to Cat. Div. MM 24 ww ■ HARY OF CONGRESS ilWlHH 015 937 643 6 I II II! II I