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 COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
 A BOOK OF SELECTED VERSE 
 
 By 
 CLARA BANCROFT BEATLEY 
 
 <Bm fjarbjst from ttjg fielU 
 |^0mchjarti btougfjt Ifje oien strong; 
 % secontr crop tljiitc acres gteltJ 
 S2I{jicfj 5 gatfjcr in a song. 
 
 Ralph Waldo Emerson. 
 
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 BOSTON 
 
 AMERICAN UNITARIAN ASSOCIATION 
 
 1903 
 

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 Copyright 1903 
 American Unitarian Association 
 
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 Za all fajJjo tearij 
 
foretporn* 
 
 Poetry is the highest means of developing the re- 
 ligious sentiment. ^' Its sole aim is to keep open the 
 great highway which leads from the seen to the un- 
 seen." The poet sees beyond the ordinary vision : 
 he reaches the heights and depths of feeling. He 
 reports what he sees and feek in word-pictures 
 charged with emotional power. 
 
 The wise teacher, in the home, the school, the 
 church, or wheresoever circumstanced, recognizing 
 the disposition of the growing mind to receive sug- 
 gestion, selects choice poems for memory-teaching, 
 and early in life implants the ideals of conduct ap- 
 propriate to noble youth and manhood. 
 
 This book of verse has been compiled to bring to- 
 gether, in convenient and attractive form, many 
 poems and parts of poems for memory-teaching. 
 Fifty familiar hymns, rich in thought and sentiment 
 and universal in acceptance, have been included. 
 
 It is hoped that many of the single stanzas may 
 be used by the family at breakfast, when, after the 
 separation of sleep, the members come together in 
 the light of a new day. A beautiful custom is the 
 joining of hands about the table, and the reciting of 
 an appropriate stanza, followed by a brief thanks- 
 giving. Those who have awakened to this symbolism 
 in childhood are free from the excess of consciousness 
 which hinders family devotion. A simple quotation 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
 in a foreign tongue may prove a help to those who 
 miss the ease of unconscious childhood : — 
 
 " Back of the loaf is the snowy flour, 
 And back of the flour, the mill ; 
 And back of the mill is the wheat, and the shower, 
 And the sun, and the Father's will." 
 
 *' Alle guten Gaben,' 
 Alles was wir haben, 
 Kommt, O Gott, von Dir ; 
 Dank sei Dir dafur." 
 
 Other appropriate stanzas for this same purpose 
 may be readily chosen : — 
 
 ** He prayeth best who loveth best " (p. 65) ; 
 
 " If I can stop one heart from breaking" (p. 33) ; 
 
 " I said it on the hillside path " (p. 16) ; 
 
 •• It matters little where I was born " (p. 31) ; 
 
 "O gift of God! O perfect day ! " (p. 49), etc. 
 
 The poems have been grouped under twenty heads, 
 with the thought of impressing the ideak suggested. 
 The needs of varying ages have been considered, with 
 the hope of making the book generally acceptable. 
 
 Many a favorite poem and author will be missed, 
 for no attempt has been made to present a complete 
 anthology. With the abundance of material, limits 
 were imperative. The choice has been guided by 
 the aim to unite poetical beauty with teaching power. 
 
 " Gold ? Said I gold ? — ay then, why he, or she. 
 Or whosoe'er it was, or half the world. 
 Had ventured, — had the thing I spake of been 
 Mere gold." 
 
 C. B. B. 
 Cboftsmbbe, September, 1903. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 I. God and Man 1 
 
 II. Father and Child 7 
 
 III. Brothers 13 
 
 IV. Disciple and Master 17 
 
 V. Character and Salvation 27 
 
 VI. Progress 35 
 
 VII. Nature 43 
 
 VIII. The Larger Brotherhood 63 
 
 IX. Hearth and Home » ... 71 
 
 X. Duty 81 
 
 XI. Truth and Freedom 85 
 
 XII. The Faith that Strengthens 99 
 
 XIII. The Hope that Saves 113 
 
 XIV. The Love that Endures 117 
 
 XV. Trust and Prayer 127 
 
 XVI. Patience 149 
 
 XVII. Self-Control 153 
 
 XVIII. Courage and Joy 157 
 
 XIX. Humility 171 
 
 XX. Fulfilment 177 
 
mDEX OF ATJTHOES A:N^D FIEST LI:N^ES. 
 
 Addison, Joseph. page 
 The spacious firmament on high 51 
 
 Aldrich, Thomas Bailey. 
 
 My mind lets go a thousand things 122 
 
 Alcott, Louisa May. 
 
 A little kingdom I possess 155 
 
 Ames, Charles Gordon. 
 
 Since Eden it keeps the secret 9 
 
 There are deep things of God 106 
 
 The ship may sink 169 
 
 Arnold, Edwin. 
 
 The string o'erstretched breaks 161 
 
 Arnold, Matthew. 
 
 A world above man's head to let him see 48 
 
 We cannot kindle when we will 151 
 
 Bancroft, Mary Park. 
 
 A home whose sunlight warms the heart 71 
 
 Barbauld, Anna L^titia. 
 
 Life ! we've been long together 115 
 
 Beach, Seth Curtis. 
 
 Mysterious Presence, source of all 146 
 
 Belknap, Jeremy. 
 
 Give ear, ye children, to my law 93 
 
 Bowring, John. 
 
 God is love ; his mercy brightens 105 
 
 Watchman, tell us of the night 22 
 
 Brooks, Phillips. 
 
 O little town of Bethlehem 21 
 
 Brown, Alice. 
 
 O hearken, all ye little weeds 60 
 
APPLES OP GOLD 
 
 Browning, Elizabeth Barrett. paob 
 
 Earth's crammed with heaven 43 
 
 Fewer programmes, we who have no prescience 147 
 
 Men who might do greatly 164 
 
 O, the little birds sang East 109 
 
 Our Euripides, the human 119 
 
 So oft the doing of God's will 129 
 
 The world waits for help 74 
 
 We'll be calm, and know . 148 
 
 What height, we kncfw not 40 
 
 Yet, my pretty, sportive friend 69 
 
 Browning, Robert. 
 
 A great hand, careful lest it crush 168 
 
 Ah, did you once see Shelley plain? 123 
 
 Be sure they sleep not whom God needs 165 
 
 For life with all its yields of joy and woe 117 
 
 Go boldly, go serenely, go augustly 165 
 
 God made all his creatures 63 
 
 Grow old along with me! 165 
 
 Havel knowledge? Confounded it shrivels 176 
 
 He did too many grandnesses to note 33 
 
 How good is man's life, the mere living! 104 
 
 How soon all worldly wrong would be repaired 84 
 
 I count life just a stuff 157 
 
 I go to prove my soul 116 
 
 In his face is light 141 
 
 In my own heart love had not been made wise 124 
 
 It's wiser being good than bad 115 
 
 Not on the vulgar mass 174 
 
 One who never turned his back 162 
 
 Progress is the law of life 38 
 
 Rejoice we are allied 106 
 
 Such ever was love's way ; to rise it stoops 171 
 
 Then how grace a rose? I know a way 123 
 
 This Quiet all it hath a mind to 147 
 
 There is an inmost centre in us all 98 
 
 Therefore to whom turn 1 but to thee the ineffable Name? . . I04 
 
 What my soul, see thus far and no farther? 167 
 
 Whensudden — how think ye the end? , . 166 
 
 Why crown whom Zeus has crowned in soul before? .... 176 
 
 You groped your way across my room 126 
 
 Bryant, W^illiam Cullen. 
 
 Thou blossom bright with autumn dew 59 
 
 Truth crushed to earth shall rise again 94 
 
 Whither midst falling dew 9 
 
 Burgess, Gelett. 
 
 Fair as a star, rare as a star 79 
 
AUTHOES AND FIEST LINES 
 
 Burns, Robert. page 
 
 Then let us pray that come it may 33 
 
 Wee, modest, crimson-tipped flower 54 
 
 Wee, sleekit, cow'rin', tim'rous beastie 67 
 
 Who made the heart, 'tis he alone 124 
 
 Burroughs, John. 
 
 Serene, I fold my hands and wait 132 
 
 Campbell, Thomas. 
 
 What's hallowed groiind? 90 
 
 Carlyle, Thomas. 
 
 As journeys the Earth, her eye on the Sun 40 
 
 Gary, Alice. 
 
 I hold that Christian grace abounds 29 
 
 Case, Lizzie York. 
 
 There is no unbelief llO 
 
 Chadwick, John White. 
 
 Is this the end? I know it cannot be 108 
 
 Church, Edward A. 
 
 Consider but this single day's demands 129 
 
 God, the scholar and the sage ill 
 
 Clarke, James Freeman. 
 
 Every inmost aspiration 7 
 
 Father, to us, thy children, humbly kneeling 174 
 
 1 sit beneath the elm's protecting shadows 184 
 
 Babia, sick upon her bed 144 
 
 Clough, Arthur Hugh. 
 
 It fortifies my soul to know 91 
 
 Coleridge, Samuel Taylor. 
 
 Farewell, farewell, but this I tell 65 
 
 CONDER, JoSIAH. 
 
 O not in circling depth nor height 112 
 
 Day by day the manna fell 130 
 
 Cranch, Christopher Pearse. 
 
 Thought is deeper than all speech 97 
 
 Deland, Margaret. 
 
 In love she fell 5C 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
 Dickinson, Emily. page 
 
 If I can stop one heart from breaking 33 
 
 I had no time to hate, because 121 
 
 I never saw a moor 109 
 
 The morns are meeker than they were 58 
 
 The pedigree of honey 56 
 
 These are the days when birds come back 59 
 
 Doddridge, Philip. 
 
 Awake, my soul, stretch every nerve 162 
 
 Eliot, George. 
 
 But when they stripped him of his ornaments 33 
 
 Emerson, Ralph Waldo. 
 
 Announced by all the trumpets of the sky 60 
 
 A ruddy drop of manly blood 122 
 
 As the bird trims her to the gale 170 
 
 But God said, ** I will have a purer gift " 121 
 
 By the rude bridge that arched the flood 89 
 
 For the world was built in order 47 
 
 Go where he will, the wise man is at home 4 
 
 Hast thou named all the birds without a grun? 123 
 
 Heartily know, when half-gods go 95 
 
 He spoke, and words more soft than rain 32 
 
 Hot mid-summer's petted crone 54 
 
 I break your bond and masterships 92 
 
 In May, when sea-winds pierced our solitudes 53 
 
 Kjiow'st thou what wove yon wood bird's nest? 49 
 
 Let me go where'er I will 108 
 
 Life is too short to waste 126 
 
 Little thinks, in the field, yon red-cloaked clown 15 
 
 Not from a vain or shallow thought 46 
 
 Once I wished I might rehearse 90 
 
 Once slept the world an egg of stone 97 
 
 O when I am safe in my sylvan home 43 
 
 So nigh is grandeur to our dust 81 
 
 Teach me your mood, O patient stars 149 
 
 The hand that rounded Peter's dome 4 
 
 The mountain and the squirrel had a quarrel 173 
 
 The sun set, but set not his hope 113 
 
 The timid it concerns to ask their way 161 
 
 The word unto the prophet spoken 5 
 
 Thou canst not wave thy staff in air 47 
 
 'Tis man's perdition to be safe 85 
 
 We love the venerable house 143 
 
 "Wilt thou not ope thy heart to know 129 
 
 Faber, Frederick William. 
 
 God's glory is a wondrous thing 163 
 
 There's a wideness in God's mercy 7 
 
AUTHOES AIS^D FIEST LINES 
 
 Field, Eugene. page 
 The Rock-a-By Lady from Husli-a-By Street 77 
 
 Frothingham, Nathaniel Langdon. 
 
 God, whose presence glows in all 5 
 
 Frothingham, Octavius Brooks. 
 
 The Lord of hosts whose guiding hand 142 
 
 FuRNESs, William Henry. 
 
 Slowly by thy hand unfurled 134 
 
 Gage, Frances Dana. 
 
 New friendships may bind us ^ . . . . 80 
 
 Gannett, William Channing. 
 
 1 hear it often in the dark 5 
 
 He hides within the lily 38 
 
 Gaskell, William. 
 
 Mighty God, the first and last 103 
 
 Gilder, Richard Watson. 
 
 Through love to light ! O wonderful the way 119 
 
 Gill, Thomas Hornblower. 
 
 Our God, our God, thou shinest here 39 
 
 Goldsmith, Oliver. 
 
 Such is the patriot's boast 74 
 
 Hale, Edward Everett. 
 
 And if our poet rise 41 
 
 For forty years of mingled hopes and fears 159 
 
 The Lord of hosts stretched forth his arm 186 
 
 What was his name ? I do not know his name 167 
 
 Hale, Robert Beverly. 
 
 I lay at my ease in my little boat 135 
 
 Hedge, Frederick Henry. 
 
 Blest be the light that shows the way 41 
 
 Hemans, Felicia. 
 
 The breaking waves dashed high .101 
 
 Higginson, Mary Thacher. 
 
 In shining groups, each stem a pearly ray 57 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
 HiGGiNsoN, Thomas Wentworth. page 
 
 An easy thing, O Power divine 132 
 
 A winged sunbeam flashes through the trees 69 
 
 Light of dim mornings, shield from heat and cold 84 
 
 Myriad roses fade unheeded 183 
 
 O mists that loiter, vague and wild 76 
 
 thou who bearest on thy thoughtful face 147 
 
 Holland, Josiah Gilbert. 
 
 1 count this thing to be grandly true 37 
 
 Holmes, Oliver Wendell. 
 
 Build thee more stately mansions, O my Soul 35 
 
 We who have rolled the sphere beneath our feet 180 
 
 HoRTON, Edward Augustus. 
 
 Cast off the lines! Our friend goes forth 169 
 
 Hosmer, Frederick Lucian. 
 
 Immortal by their deed and word 24 
 
 O prophet soul of all the years 179 
 
 O thou in all thy might so far 11 
 
 Howe, Julia Ward. 
 
 Keep but heart and healthful courage 168 
 
 Mine eyes have seen the glory 96 
 
 Weave us more silks, ye Lyons looms 95 
 
 Hunt, Leigh. 
 
 AbouBenAdhem— may his tribe increase 30 
 
 Ingelow, Jean. 
 
 Heigh-ho! daisies and buttercups 78 
 
 So take Joy home 157 
 
 Jackson, Helen Hunt. 
 
 Along Ancona's hills the shimmering heat 57 
 
 Johnson, Samuel. 
 
 City of God, how broad and far . 88 
 
 Life of Ages, richly poured . . . «. 182 
 
 Keats, John. 
 
 O fret not after knowledge ! I have none 148 
 
 O it has ruffled every spirit there 120 
 
 Time, that aged nurse 149 
 
 Kingsley, Charles. 
 
 My fairest child, I have no song to give you 30 
 
AUTHOES AND PIEST LINES 
 
 Kipling, Rudyard. page 
 
 Oh, East is East, and West is West 16 
 
 "There is none like to me," says the Cub 173 
 
 Lanier, Sidney. 
 
 Death, thou'rt a cordial, old and rare 170 
 
 For weakness in freedom grows stronger than strength ... 92 
 
 How life, in truth, was sharply set with ills 151 
 
 Of fret, of dark, of thorn, of chill 133 
 
 what is abroad in the marsh and the terminal sea? .... 4& 
 
 Larcom, Lucy. 
 
 1 said it in the hillside path 16 
 
 Long, John Davis. 
 
 I would, dear Jesus, I could break 19 
 
 Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth. 
 
 Alike are life and death 140 
 
 And Nature, the old nurse, took 62 
 
 But serene in the rapturous throng 146 
 
 Christ to the young man said 26 
 
 Come to me, O ye children 76 
 
 God had sifted three kingdoms 103 
 
 Happy he, whom neither wealth nor fashion 73 
 
 He preached to all men everywhere 33 
 
 How beautiful is youth, how bright it gleams 164 
 
 Iheard the trailing garments of the Night 50 
 
 It is the heart and not the brain 119 
 
 Lives of great men all remind us 160 
 
 No endeavor is in vain 159 
 
 O gift of God, O perfect day 49 
 
 The heights by great men reached and kept 38 
 
 Then the little Hiawatha 65 
 
 Thou, too, sail on, O Ship of State 107 
 
 Under a spreading chestnut-tree 31 
 
 Up soared the lark into the air 65 
 
 Longfellow, Samuel. 
 
 Again as evening's shadow falls 139 
 
 God of the earth, the sky, the sea 3 
 
 Go forth to life, O child of earth 39 
 
 One holy church of God appears 180 
 
 Revelation is not sealed 91 
 
 Lowell, James Russell. 
 
 Ah ! let us hope that to our praise 116 
 
 And what is so rare as a day in June 54 
 
 Be noble, and the nobleness that lies 27 
 
 Endurance is the crowning quality 151 
 
 How like a prodigal doth Nature seem 52 
 
APPLES Ol^ GOLD 
 
 FAOB 
 
 I that still pray at morning and at eve 141 
 
 Life may be given in many ways 88 
 
 Nature, they say, doth dote 175 
 
 New occasions teach new duties 94 
 
 Nor, can I count him happiest who has never 94 
 
 Not as all other women are 74 
 
 O beautiful my country, ours once more 95 
 
 O man of silent mood 163 
 
 O small beginnings, ye are great and strong 151 
 
 O Truth, O Freedom, how are ye still bom 85 
 
 One day with life and heart 161 
 
 That is no true alms which the hand can hold 121 
 
 The holy supper is kept indeed 16 
 
 That love for one from which there does not spring 121 
 
 They are slaves who fear to speak 87 
 
 'Tis not the grapes of Canaan that repay 99 
 
 Though the cause of evil prosper 88 
 
 What means this glory round our feet , . . 23 
 
 Where is the true man's fatherland 10 
 
 Within the hall are song and laughter 73 
 
 Marean, Emma Endicott. 
 
 My life is like a little boat 135 
 
 Nor low, nor high ! My heart learned once that prayer .... 161 
 
 Mason, Caroline Atherton. 
 
 Whichever way the wind doth blow 137 
 
 Milton, John. 
 
 Who best bear his mild yoke 152 
 
 Yet, I argue not against Heaven's hand 113 
 
 Montgomery, James. 
 
 God is my strong salvation 165 
 
 The Lord is my shepherd, no want shall I know 137 
 
 Moore, Thomas. 
 
 Thou art, O God, the life and light 54 
 
 Newman, John Henry. 
 
 Prune thou thy words, the thoughts control .153 
 
 O'Reilly, John Boyle. 
 
 The Infinite always is silent 4 
 
 Palmer, Alice Freeman. 
 
 He shall give his angels charge 138 
 
 Parker, Theodore. 
 
 C thou great Friend to all the sons of man 24 
 
AUTHOES AND FIEST LINES 
 
 Peabody, Josephine Preston. page 
 Oh, there is morning yonder 58 
 
 Procter, Adelaide Anne. 
 
 Judge not, the workings of his brain 125 
 
 Reese, Lizette Woodworth. 
 
 Whether we climb, whether we fall 161 
 
 Romanes, George John, 
 
 The man who idly sits and thinks 97 
 
 Savage, Minot Judson. 
 
 Who lifts a sail invites the sun 103 
 
 Savage, Philip Henry. 
 
 1 know not what it is, but when I pass 46 
 
 Scott, Walter. 
 
 Breathes there a man with soul so dead 73 
 
 When Israel of the Lord beloved 101 
 
 ScuDDER, Eliza. 
 
 Thou Grace divine, encircling all 131 
 
 Sears, Edmund Hamilton. 
 
 Calm on the listening ear of night 19 
 
 It came upon the midnight clear 20 
 
 Shakespeare, William. 
 
 Give me that man that is not passion's slave 155 
 
 Love thyself last, cherish those hearts that hate thee .... 92 
 The quality of mercy is not strained 124 
 
 Shelley, Percy Bysshe. 
 
 And many more whose names on earth are dark 112 
 
 He lives, he wakes— 'tis Death is dead Ill 
 
 Sill, Edward Rowland. 
 
 Send down thy truth, O God 144 
 
 This I beheld, or dreamed it in a dream 166 
 
 Smith, Samuel Francis. 
 
 My country, 'tis of thee 87 
 
 Sprague, Charles. 
 
 It came from heaven, its power archangels knew 47 
 
 Stevenson, Robert Louis. 
 
 The bed was made, the room was fit 62 
 
 The lights from the parlour and kitchen shone out 80 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
 Stirling, John. page 
 
 And still when night is darkening o'er 61 
 
 Stowe, Harriet Beecher. 
 
 Still, still with thee, when purple morning breaketh .... 140 
 
 Swedish, From the 
 
 It matters little where I was born 31 
 
 Tabs, John Banister. 
 
 How many an acorn falls to die ! 152 
 
 Tennyson, Alfred. 
 
 And, indeed, he seems to me 155 
 
 Behold, we know not anything 127 
 
 Flower in the crannied wall 1 
 
 Howe'er it be, it seems to me 32 
 
 1 dreamed that stone by stone 181 
 
 Love took up the glass of Time 120 
 
 Man am I grown, a man's work must I do 26 
 
 More things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of, 141 
 
 On to God's house, the people prest 75 
 
 One God, one law, one element 177 
 
 Our little systems have their day 147 
 
 Speak to him thou, for he hears 4 
 
 King in the valiant man and free 17 
 
 The path of duty is the way to glory 83 
 
 There has fallen a splendid tear 120 
 
 Yea, let all good things await 88 
 
 Thaxter, Celia. 
 
 Across the narrow beach we flit 67 
 
 Trench, Richard Chevenix. 
 
 I say to thee, do thou repeat 104 
 
 Why, therefore, should we do ourselves this wrong 142 
 
 Vaughan, Henry. 
 
 Then bless thy secret growth 97 
 
 Waring, Anna L^titia. 
 
 My heart is resting, O my God 136 
 
 Wasson, David Atwood. 
 
 Ask and receive ! 'Tis sweetly said 141 
 
 A thread of law runs through thy prayer 127 
 
 Prophetic Hope, thy fine discourse 115 
 
 The winds that o'er my ocean run 107 
 
ATJTHOES AND FIEST LINES 
 
 Watson, William. pagk 
 
 Love, like a bird, hath perched upon a spray 119 
 
 The gods man makes he breaks, proclaims them each .... 4 
 
 Whitman, Walt. 
 
 Joy, Shipmate, Joy 168 
 
 glad, exulting, culminating song 181 
 
 Whittier, John Greenleaf. 
 
 Ah, well ! — The world is discreet 162 
 
 All as God wills, who wisely heeds 138 
 
 Hail to the coming singers 181 
 
 Happy he whose inward ear 91 
 
 1 know not what the future hath 130 
 
 Let the thick curtain fall 109 
 
 Let those who never erred lorget 125 
 
 O brother man, fold to thy heart thy brother 13 
 
 O Lord and Master of us all 25 
 
 power to do, O baffled will 152 
 
 The harp at Nature's advent strung 45 
 
 The letter fails and systems fall 119 
 
 The riches of the Commonwealth 93 
 
 The threads our hands in blindness spin 148 
 
 To be saved is only this 27 
 
 What matter how the night behaved 71 
 
 Where'er her troubled path may be 125 
 
 Yet sometimes glimpses on my sight 37 
 
 Williams, Helen Maria. 
 
 While thee I seek, protecting Power 145 
 
 Williams, Theodore Chickering. 
 
 When thy heart with joy o'erflowing 15 
 
 Wordsworth, William. 
 
 A violet by a mossy stone 75 
 
 Behold the child among his new-born blisses 78 
 
 1 wandered lonely as a cloud 52 
 
 Nature never did betray the heart that loved her 47 
 
 One impulse from a vernal wood 45 
 
 Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting 3 
 
 Stay near me, do not take thy flight 68 
 
 Stem law-giver, yet thou dost wear 83 
 
 Stranger, henceforth be warned and know that pride .... 173 
 
 The eye, it cannot choose but see 131 
 
 The stars of midnight shall be dear 61 
 
 Wotton, Henry. 
 
 How happy is he bom or taught 92 
 
Each complete poem is given with its title placed above. 
 Quotations of parts of poems have the title below. Care 
 has been taken to indicate omitted lines and stanzas. 
 
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS. 
 
 Grateful acknowledgment for the use of original poems 
 is made to Charles Gordon Ames, Seth Curtis Beach, 
 Gelett Burgess, Lizzie York Case, John White Chadwick, 
 Edward A. Church, William Channing Gannett, Richard 
 Watson Gilder, Thomas Wentworth Higginson, Mary 
 Thacher Higginson, Edward Everett Hale (including a 
 poem by Robert Beverly Hale), Edward Augustus Horton, 
 Frederick Lucian Hosmer, John Davis Long, Emma Endi- 
 cott Marean, George Herbert Palmer (poem by Alice Free- 
 man Palmer), Minot Judson Savage, and Theodore Chicker- 
 ing Williams. 
 
 The courtesy of publishers has permitted the use of copy- 
 righted poems. The poems by Thomas Bailey Aldrich, Alice 
 Brown, John Burroughs, Alice Cary, Margaret Deland, 
 Ralph Waldo Emerson, Julia Ward Howe, Henry Wads- 
 worth Longfellow, James Russell Lowell, Edward Rowland 
 Sill, Harriet Beecher Stowe, Celia Thaxter, and John Green- 
 leaf Whittier, are pubUshed by permission of, and by special 
 arrangement with, Houghton, Mifflin & Co. , authorized pub- 
 lishers of their works. The poems of Josephine Preston 
 Peabody, Phihp Savage, Walt Whitman, and John Banister 
 Tabb, are permitted by Small, Maynard & Co.; the poem of 
 Richard Watson Gilder, by the Century Co.; the poems of 
 James Freeman Clarke, by the George H. Ellis Co.; the 
 poems of William Cullen Bryant, by D. Appleton & Co. ; 
 poem of Phillips Brooks, by E. P. Dutton & Co.; poem by 
 Theodore Parker, by G. P. Putnam's Sons ; poem by John 
 Boyle O'Reilly, by The Pilot Co. 
 
 The poems of Emily Dickinson, Louisa May Alcott, and 
 Helen Hunt Jackson, are published by special arrangement 
 with their authorized publishers, Little, Brown & Co.; the 
 poems of Sidney Lanier, Eugene Field, and Robert Louis 
 Stevenson, by special arrangement with their authorized 
 publishers, Charles Scribner's Sons. 
 
 The Biographical Index of " The University Hymn Book," 
 made by the Rev. Charles F. Russell, has proved invaluable 
 for its verification of authorities, its tracing of hymns to 
 original sources, and its careful numbering of stanzas. In 
 choosing the hymns, the rendering of " The University 
 Hymn Book " has been followed. 
 
Whene'er a noble deed is wrought, 
 Whene'er is spoken a noble thought, ^ 
 
 Our hearts, in glad surprise, 
 
 To higher levels rise. 
 
 The tidal wave of deeper souls 
 Into our inmost being rolls, 
 
 And lifts us unawares 
 
 Out of all meaner cares. 
 
 Honor to those whose words or deeds 
 Thus help us in our daily needs, 
 
 And by their overflow 
 
 Eaise us from what is low ! 
 
 Santa Filomena. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 
 
I. 
 (0oti ana iSlpan* 
 
 Flower in the crannied wall, 
 
 I pluck you out of the crannies ; 
 
 Hold you here, root and all, in my hand. 
 
 Little flower ; but if I could understand 
 
 What you are, root and all, and all in all, 
 
 I should know what God and man is. 
 
 Alfred Tennyson. 
 
GOD AND MAN. 
 
 HYMK 
 
 God of the earth, the sky, the sea, 
 
 Maker of all above, below. 
 Creation lives and moves in theej 
 
 Thy present life through all doth flow. 
 
 Thy love is in the sunshine's glow. 
 
 Thy life is in the quickening air ; 
 When lightnings flash and storm- winds blow, 
 
 There is thy power, thy law is there. 
 
 "We feel thy calm at evening's hour. 
 Thy grandeur in the march of night. 
 
 And when the morning breaks in power. 
 We hear thy word, ''Let there be light." 
 
 But higher far, and far more clear, 
 
 Thee in man's spirit we behold, 
 Thine image and thyself are there, — 
 
 The indwelling God, proclaimed of old. 
 
 Samuel Longfellow (1819-1892). 
 
 Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting; 
 The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star, 
 Hath had elsewhere its setting. 
 
 And cometh from afar: 
 Not in entire forgetfulness, 
 And not in utter nakedness. 
 But trailing clouds of glory do we come 
 From God who is our home. 
 Ode to Immortality. William Wordsworth. 
 
 [3] 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
 THE INFINITE. 
 
 The Infinite always is silent: 
 
 It is only the Finite speaks. 
 Our words are the idle wave-caps 
 
 On the deep that never breaks. 
 
 We may question with wand of science, 
 
 Explain, decide, and discuss; 
 
 But only in meditation 
 
 The Mystery speaks to us. 
 
 John Boyle O'Beillt. 
 
 The gods man makes he breaks; proclaims them each 
 Immortal, and himself outlives them all: 
 
 But whom he set not up he cannot reach 
 
 To shake his cloud- dark, sun-bright pedestal. 
 
 Epigrams. William Watson. 
 
 The hand that rounded Peter^s dome 
 And groined the aisles of Christian Eome 
 Wrought in a sad sincerity; 
 Himself from God he could not free; 
 He builded better than he knew; — 
 The conscious stone to beauty grew. 
 The Problem. Ralph Waldo Emerson. 
 
 Speak to him thou, for he hears, and spirit with spirit 
 
 can meet — 
 Closer is he than breathing, and nearer than hands 
 
 and feet. 
 The Higher Pantheism. Alfred Tennyson. 
 
 Go where he will, the wise man is at home, 
 His hearth the earth, — his hall, the azure dome ; 
 Where his clear spirit leads him, there's his road, 
 By God's own light, illumined and foreshown. 
 Woodnotes. Ralph Waldo Emerson. 
 
 [4] 
 
GOD AND MAN 
 
 HYMN. 
 
 O 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 spirit's light, thy Spirit's grace. 
 
 That love its holy influence pour, 
 To keep us meek and make us free, 
 
 And throw its binding blessing more 
 Eound each with all, and all with thee. 
 
 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. 
 
 • ••••• 
 
 Nathaniel Langdon Frothingham (1793-1870). 
 
 The word unto the prophet spoken 
 Was writ on tables yet unbroken j 
 The word by seers or sibyls told, 
 In groves of oak, or fanes of gold. 
 Still floats upon the morning wind, 
 Still whispers to the willing mind. 
 One accent of the Holy Ghost 
 The heedless world hath never lost. 
 The Problem. Ralph Waldo Emerson. 
 
 THE INNEE VOICE. 
 
 I 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 ? 
 
 [5] 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
 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 ? 
 
 Then is God's heaven my very soul ! 
 
 And his, so sweet and strong, 
 The Breath that sweeps its silences, 
 
 And fills my heart with song ! 
 
 William Channing Gannbtt. 
 
 [61 
 
II. 
 
 There's a wideness in God's mercy 
 Like the wideness of the sea, 
 There's a kindness in his justice, 
 That is more than liberty. 
 For the love of God is broader 
 Than the measure of man's mind, 
 And the heart of the Eternal 
 Is most wonderfully kind. 
 
 Frederick William Faber. 
 
 Every inmost aspiration is God's angel undefiled ; 
 And in every ^ ^ O my Father ! ' ' slumbers deep a 
 ' ' Here, my child ! ' ' 
 
 Translation, through the German of Tholuck, from 
 the Persian. James Freeman Clarke. 
 
FATHER AND CHILD. 
 
 HIDDEN LIFE. 
 
 Since Eden it keeps the secret I 
 
 Not a flower beside it knows 
 To distil from the day the fragrance 
 
 And beauty that flood the rose. 
 
 Silently speeds the secret 
 
 From the loving eye of the sun 
 
 To the willing heart of the flower ; 
 The life of the twain is one. 
 
 Folded within my being, 
 
 A wonder to me is taught, 
 Too deep for curious seeing. 
 
 Or fathom of sounding thought. 
 
 Of all sweet mysteries holiest ! 
 
 Faded are rose and sun ! 
 The Highest hides in the lowliest ; 
 
 My Father and I are one ! 
 
 Charles Gordon Ames. 
 
 TO A WATEEFOWL. 
 
 Whither midst falling dew, 
 
 While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, 
 Far through their rosy depths dost thou pursue 
 
 Thy solitary way ? 
 
 Vainly the fowler's eye 
 
 Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong, 
 As darkly painted on the crimson sky. 
 
 Thy figure floats along. 
 
 [9] 
 
APPLES OP GOLD 
 
 Seek'st thou the plashy brink 
 
 Of weedy lake or marge of river wide, 
 
 Or where the rocking billows rise and sink 
 On the chafed ocean-side ? 
 
 There is a power whose care 
 
 Teaches thy way along that pathless coast — 
 The desert and illimitable air — 
 
 Lone wandering, but not lost. 
 
 All day thy wings have fanned, 
 
 At that far height, the cold, thin atmosphere, 
 Tet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land, 
 
 Though the dark night is near. 
 
 And soon that toil shall end j 
 
 Soon shalt thou find a summer home, and rest 
 And scream among thy fellows j reeds shall bend 
 
 Soon o^er thy sheltered nest. 
 
 Thou'rt gone, the abyss of heaven 
 
 Hath swallowed up thy form ; yet on my heart 
 Deeply hath sunk the lesson thou hast given. 
 
 And shall not soon depart. 
 
 He who from zone to zone 
 
 Guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight, 
 In the long way that I must tread alone. 
 
 Will lead my steps aright. William Cullen Bryant. 
 
 * THE FATHEELAND. 
 
 Where is the true man's fatherland 1 
 Is it where he by chance is born ? 
 Doth not the yearning spirit scorn 
 In such scant borders to be spanned ? 
 O yes ! his fatherland must be 
 As the blue heaven wide and free ! 
 
 [10] 
 
FATHER AND CHILD 
 
 Is it alone where freedom is, 
 Where God is God and man is man 1 
 Doth he not claim a broader span 
 For the soul's love of home than this ? 
 O yes ! his fatherland must be 
 As the blue heaven wide and free. 
 
 Where'er a human heart doth wear 
 Joy's myrtle- wreath or sorrow's gyves, 
 Where'er a human spirit strives 
 After a life more true and fair, 
 There is the true man's birthplace grand, 
 His is a world-wide fatherland ! 
 
 Where'er a single slave doth pine. 
 Where'er one man may help another, — 
 Thank God for such a birthright, brother, — 
 That spot of earth is thine and mine ! 
 There is the true man's birthplace grand, 
 His is a world-wide fatherland ! 
 
 James Russell Lowell. 
 
 HYMN. 
 
 O thou, in all thy might so far, 
 
 In all thy love so near, 
 Beyond the range of sun and star, 
 
 And yet beside us here, — 
 
 What heart can comprehend thy name, 
 Or, searching, find thee out, 
 
 Who art within, a quickening flame, 
 A presence round about ? 
 
 Yet though I know thee but in part, 
 
 I ask not, Lord, for more : 
 Enough for me to know thou art. 
 
 To love thee and adore. 
 
 [11] 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
 O sweeter than aught else besides, 
 
 The tender mystery 
 That like a veil of shadow hides 
 
 The light I may not see ! 
 
 And dearer than all things I know 
 
 Is childlike faith to me, 
 
 That makes the darkest way I go 
 
 An open path to thee. 
 
 Fbbdebick Lucian Hosmbb. 
 
 [123 
 
III. 
 
 O brother man, fold to thy heart thy brother ! 
 Where pity dwells the peace of God is there j 
 To worship rightly is to love each other, 
 Each smile a hymn, each kindly deed a prayer. 
 Worship. John Greenlbaf Whittikr. 
 
BROTHERS. 
 
 THY BROTHER. 
 
 "WTien thy heart with joy o'erflowing 
 
 Sings a thankful prayer, 
 In thy joy O let thy brother 
 With thee share. 
 
 When the harvest sheaves ingathered 
 
 Fill thy barns with store, 
 To thy God and to thy brother 
 Give the more. 
 
 If thy soul with power uplifted 
 
 Yearns for glorious deed, 
 Give thy strength to serve thy brother, 
 In his need. 
 
 Hast thou borne a secret sorrow 
 
 In thy lonely breast ? 
 Take to thee thy sorrowing brother 
 For a guest. 
 
 Share with him thy bread of blessing, 
 
 Sorrow^ s burden share ; 
 When thy heart enfolds a brother, 
 God is there. 
 
 Theodore Chickering Williams. 
 
 Little thinks in the field, yon red- cloaked clown. 
 Of thee fi'om the hill -top looking down ; 
 The heifer that lows in the upland farm. 
 Far-heard^ lows not thine ear to charm ; 
 
 [15] 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
 The sexton, tolling his bell at noon, 
 Deems not that great Napoleon 
 Stops his horse, and lists with delight, 
 Whilst his files sweep round yon Alpine height ; 
 Nor knowest thou what argument 
 Thy life to thy neighbor's creed has lent. 
 All are needed by each one ; 
 Nothing is fair or good alone. 
 Each and All. Ralph Waldo Emeeson. 
 
 The Holy Supper is kept indeed 
 In whatso we share with another's need ; 
 Not what we give, but what we share, — 
 For the gift without the giver is bare ! 
 Who gives himself with his alms feeds three, — 
 Himself, his hungering neighbor, and me. 
 The Vision of Sir Launfal James Russell Lowell. 
 
 I said it in the hillside path, 
 
 I say it on the mountain stairs, 
 The best things any mortal hath • 
 
 Are those that every mortal shares. 
 The grass is softer to my tread 
 
 For rest it yields unnumbered feet. 
 Sweeter to me the wild rose red 
 
 Because it makes the whole world sweet. 
 ShareU. Lucy Larcom. 
 
 Oh, East is East, and West is West, and never the 
 
 twain shall meet, 
 Till earth and sky stand presently at God's great 
 
 judgment seat ; 
 But there is neither East nor West, Border, nor 
 
 Breed, nor Birth, 
 When two strong men stand face to face, though they 
 
 come from the ends of the earth ! 
 The Ballad of East and West. Rudyard Kipling. 
 
 [16] 
 
IV. 
 
 iSDisiciple anti ^amv. 
 
 Eing in the valiant man and free, 
 The larger heart, the kindlier hand ; 
 Eing out the darkness of the land, 
 
 Eing in the Christ that is to be. 
 In Memoriam, Alfred Tennyson. 
 
DISCIPLE AND MASTER. 
 
 JESUS. 
 
 I would, dear Jesus, I could break 
 The hedge that creeds and hearsay make, 
 And, like thy first disciples, be 
 In person led and taught by thee. 
 
 I read thy words, so strong, so sweet ; 
 I seek the footprints of thy feet. 
 But men so mystify the trace, 
 I beg to see thee face to face. 
 
 Wouldst thou not let me at thy side 
 For thee, in thee, so sure confide ? 
 Like John, upon thy breast recline 
 And feel thy heart make mine divine ? 
 
 John Davis Long. 
 
 CHEISTMAS HYMKS. 
 
 I. 
 
 Calm on the listening ear of night 
 Come heaven's melodious strains, 
 
 Where wild Judea stretches forth 
 Her silver-mantled plains. 
 
 Celestial choirs, from courts above, 
 
 Shed sacred glories there. 
 And angels, with their sparkling lyres, 
 
 Make music on the air. 
 
 [19] 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
 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, 
 And Sharon waves, in solemn praise, 
 
 Her silent groves of palm. 
 
 • • • • • • 
 
 ^^ 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 ; 
 And bright, on Bethlehem's joyous plains, 
 
 Breaks the first Christmas morn. 
 
 • ••••• 
 
 Edmund Hamilton Sbaes (1810-1876). 
 
 11. 
 
 It came upon the midnight clear, 
 
 That glorious song of old. 
 From angels bending near the earth 
 
 To touch their harps of gold : 
 ^Teace 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, 
 
 [20] 
 
DISCIPLE AND MASTEE 
 
 And ever o^er its Babel sounds 
 The blessed angels sing. 
 
 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 
 O, 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. 
 When Peace shall over all the earth 
 
 Its ancient splendors fling. 
 And the whole world give back the song 
 
 Which now the angels sing. 
 
 Edmund Hamilton Sears (1810-1876). 
 
 III. 
 
 O little town of Bethlehem, 
 
 How still we see thee lie! 
 Above thy deep and dreamless sleep 
 
 The silent stars go by: 
 Yet in thy dark streets shineth 
 
 The everlasting Light ; 
 The hopes and fears of all the years 
 
 Are met in thee to-night. 
 
 For Christ is born of Mary, 
 
 And gathered all above. 
 While mortals sleep, the angels keep 
 
 Their watch of wondering love. 
 
 [21] 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
 O morning stars, together 
 
 Proclaim the holy birth! 
 And praises sing to God the King, 
 
 And peace to men on earth. 
 
 How silently, how silently, 
 
 The wondrous gift is given ! 
 So God imparts to human hearts 
 
 The blessings of his heaven. 
 ^o ear may hear his coming, 
 
 But in this world of sin. 
 Where meek souls will receive him still, 
 
 The dear Christ enters in. 
 
 O holy Child of Bethlehem, 
 
 Descend to us, we pray ! 
 Cast out our sin and enter in, 
 
 Be born in us to-day ! 
 We hear the Christmas angels 
 
 The great glad tidings tell ; 
 O come to us, abide with us, 
 
 Our Lord Emmanuel ! 
 
 Phillips Brooks (1835-1893). 
 
 lY. 
 
 Watchman ! tell us of the night, 
 
 What its signs of promise are. 
 Traveller! o'er yon mountain's height 
 
 See that glory-beaming star. 
 Watchman ! doth its beauteous ray 
 
 Aught of hope or joy foretell? 
 Traveller ! yes, it brings the day, 
 
 Promised day of Israel. 
 
 Watchman ! tell us of the night. 
 
 Higher yet that star ascends. 
 Traveller ! blessedness and light, 
 
 Peace and truth its course portends. 
 
 [22] 
 
DISCIPLE AND MASTER 
 
 Watchman ! will its beams alone 
 Gild the spot that gave them birth ? 
 
 Traveller ! ages are its own, 
 And it bursts o'er all the earth. 
 
 Watchman ! tell us of the night, 
 
 For the morning seems to dawn. 
 Traveller ! darkness takes its flight, 
 
 Doubt and terror are withdrawn. 
 Watchman ! let thy wanderings cease, 
 
 Hie thee to thy quiet home. 
 Traveller ! lo ! the Prince ot Peace, 
 
 Lo ! the Son of God is come ! 
 
 John Bowring (1792-1872) 
 
 Y. 
 
 ^^ What means this glory round our feet,'^ 
 The Magi mused, ''more bright than morn? '' 
 
 And voices chanted clear and sweet, 
 ^' To-day the Prince of Peace is born ! " 
 
 ' ' What means that star ? ' ' the shepherds said, 
 ' ' That brightens through the rocky glen ? ' ' 
 
 And angels answering overhead 
 
 Sang, ' ' Peace on earth, good- will to men ! ' ' 
 
 'Tis eighteen hundred years and more 
 Since those sweet oracles were dumb ; 
 
 We wait for him like them of yore ; 
 Alas, he seems so slow to come ! 
 
 But it was said in words of gold 
 
 Ko time or sorrow e' er shall dim. 
 That little children might be bold 
 
 In perfect trust to come to him. 
 
 All round about our feet shall shine 
 A light like that the wise men saw, 
 
 [23] 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
 If we our loving wills incline 
 To that sweet Life which is the Law. 
 
 So shall we learn to understand 
 
 The simple faith of shepherds then, 
 And, kindly clasping hand in hand, 
 
 Sing, ^^ Peace on earth, good- will to men ! '^ 
 
 For they who to their childhood cling, 
 And keep their natures fresh as morn. 
 
 Once more shall hear the angels sing, 
 ^^ To-day the Prince of Peace is born.'' 
 
 James Russell Lowell (1819-1891). 
 
 O thou great Friend to all the sons of men, 
 "Who once appeared in humblest guise below. 
 
 Sin to rebuke, to break the captive's chain, 
 And 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 dearest hope, and deepest pray, 
 Toil by the truth, life, way, that thou hast given. 
 
 From a Sonnet. Theodore Parker (1810-1860). 
 
 JESUS. 
 
 Immortal by their deed and word, 
 
 Like light around them shed, 
 Still speak the prophets of the Lord, 
 
 Still live the sainted dead. 
 
 The voice of old by Jordan's flood 
 Yet floats upon the air ; 
 
 [24] 
 
DISCIPLE AND MASTEE 
 
 We hear it in beatitude, 
 In parable and prayer. 
 
 And still the beauty of that life 
 
 Shines star-like on our way, 
 And breathes its calm amid the strife 
 
 And burden of to-day. 
 
 Ernest of life for evermore, 
 
 That life of duty here, — 
 The trust that in the darkest hour 
 
 Looked forth and knew no fear ! 
 
 Spirit of Jesus, still speed on ! 
 
 Speed on thy conquering way 
 Till every heart the Father own, 
 
 And all his will obey. 
 
 Fbedebick Lucian Hosmeb. 
 
 O Lord and Master of us all ! 
 
 Whate'er our name or sign. 
 We own thy sway, we hear thy call, 
 
 We test our lives by thine. 
 
 We faintly hear, we dimly see. 
 
 In differing phrase we pray ; 
 But, dim or clear, we own in thee 
 
 The light, the truth, the way. 
 
 To do thy will is more than praise, 
 
 As words are less than deeds 
 And simple trust can find thy ways 
 
 We miss with chart of creeds. 
 
 Our Friend, our Brother, and our Lord, 
 
 What may thy service be ? 
 Nor name, nor form, nor ritual word. 
 But simply following thee. 
 Our Master (selected stanzas). John Greenleaf Whittier. 
 
 [25] 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
 HYMN. 
 
 For my Brother'' s Ordination. 
 
 Christ to the young man said : ^^ Yet one thing more j 
 
 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 ! 
 
 Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882). 
 
 Man am I grown, a man's work must I do. 
 Follow the deer ? Follow the Christ, the King, 
 Live pure, speak true, right wrong, follow the King — 
 Else, wherefore born ? 
 
 Idylls of the King. Alfred Tennyson. 
 
 [26] 
 
V. 
 
 character ana ^albation. 
 
 Be noble ! And the nobleness that lies 
 In other men, sleeping, but never dead, 
 Will rise in majesty to meet thine own. 
 Sonnets to A. C. L. James Russell Lowell. 
 
 To be saved is only this. 
 Salvation from our selfishness. 
 The Meeting. John Greenlkaf Whittier. 
 
CHARACTER AND SALVATION. 
 
 MY CREED. 
 
 I hold that Christian grace abounds 
 Where charity is seen j that when 
 We climb to heaven, His on the rounds 
 Of love to men. 
 
 I hold all else named piety 
 
 A selfish scheme, a vain pretence ; 
 Where centre is not, can there be 
 Circumference f 
 
 This I moreover hold and dare 
 
 Affirm wherever my rhyme may go : 
 Whatever things be sweet or fair, 
 Love makes them so. 
 
 Whether it be the sickle's rush 
 
 Through wheat fields, or the fall of showers, 
 Or by some cabin door a bush 
 Of rugged flowers. 
 
 'Tis not the wide phylactery. 
 
 Nor stubborn fast, nor stated prayers, 
 That makes us saints ; we judge the tree 
 By what it bears. 
 
 And when a man can live apart 
 
 From works, on theologic trust, 
 
 I know the blood about Ms heart 
 
 Is dry as dust. 
 
 Alice Cabt. 
 
 [29] 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
 A FAEEWELL. 
 
 My fairest child, I have no song to give you, — 
 No lark could pipe to skies so dull and gray j 
 Yet, ere we part, one lesson I can leave you 
 For every day : 
 
 Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever ; 
 Do noble things, not dream them, all day long ; 
 And so make life, death, and that vast forever 
 One grand, sweet song. 
 
 Charles Kingslet. 
 
 ABOU BEN ADHEM. 
 
 Abou Ben Adhem — may his tribe increase ! — 
 
 Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace, 
 
 And saw within the moonlight in the room, 
 
 Making it rich and like a lily in bloom, 
 
 An angel writing in a book of gold. 
 
 Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold, 
 
 And to the presence in the room he said, 
 
 ^ ^ What writest thou ? ' ' The vision raised its head, 
 
 And with a look made of all sweet accord. 
 
 Answered, '' The names of those who love the Lord.^^ 
 
 ^ ' And is mine one % ' ' said Abou. ^ ^ Nay, not so, ' ' 
 
 EeplJed the angel. Adhem spoke more low. 
 
 But cheerly still, and said, ^^ I pray thee, then, 
 
 Write me as one that loves his fellow-men. '' 
 
 The angel wrote and vanished. The next night 
 
 It came again with a great wakening light. 
 
 And showed their names whom love of God had 
 
 blessed — 
 
 And lo ! Ben Adhem' s name led all the rest. 
 
 Leigh Hunt. 
 
 [30] 
 
CHARACTEE AND SALVATION 
 
 It matters little where I was born, 
 
 Whether my parents were rich or poor, 
 Whether they shrank from the cold world's scorn 
 
 Or walked in the pride of wealth secure ; 
 But whether I live an honest man, 
 
 And hold my integrity firm in my clutch, 
 I tell you, brother, plain as I am, 
 
 It matters much. 
 
 From the Swedish. 
 
 THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH. 
 
 Under a spreading chestnut-tree 
 The village smithy stands : 
 
 The smith, a mighty man is he, 
 With large and sinewy hands ; 
 
 And the muscles of his brawny arms 
 Are strong as iron bands. 
 
 His hair is crisp and black and long. 
 
 His face is like the tan ; 
 
 &> 
 
 His brow is wet with honest sweat. 
 
 He earns whate' er he can, 
 And looks the whole world in the face, 
 
 For he owes not any man. 
 
 Week in, week out, from morn till night 
 You can hear his bellows blow ; 
 
 You can hear him swing his heavy sledge, 
 With measured beat and slow, 
 
 Like the sexton ringing the village bell. 
 When the evening sun is low. 
 
 And children coming home from school 
 
 Look in at the open door ; 
 They love to see the flaming forge, 
 
 And hear the bellows roar, 
 And catch the burning sparks that fly 
 
 Like chaff from a threshing-floor. 
 
 [31] 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
 He goes on Sunday to the church 
 
 And sits among his boys ; 
 He hears the parson pray and preach, 
 
 He hears his daughter's voice, 
 Singing in the village choir. 
 
 And it makes his heart rejoice. 
 
 It sounds to him like her mother's voice, 
 
 Singing in Paradise ! 
 He needs must think of her once more, 
 
 How in the grave she lies ; 
 And with his hard rough hand he wipes 
 
 A tear out of his eyes. 
 
 Toiling, — rejoicing, — sorrowing. 
 
 Onward through life he goes ; 
 Each morning sees some task begin, 
 
 Each evening sees it close ; 
 Something attempted, something done. 
 
 Has earned a night's repose. 
 
 Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend, 
 For the lesson thou hast taught ! 
 
 Thus at the flaming forge of life 
 Our fortunes must be wrought ; 
 
 Thus on its sounding anvil shaped 
 Each burning deed and thought ! 
 
 Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 
 
 Howe'er it be, it seems to me 
 
 'Tis only noble to be good 5 
 Kind hearts are more than coronets. 
 
 And simple faith than JSTorman blood. 
 Lady Clara Vere de Vere. Alfred Tennyson. 
 
 He spoke, and words more soft than rain 
 
 Brought the Age of Gold again : 
 
 His actions won such reverence sweet 
 
 As hid all measure of the feat. 
 Character. Ralph Waldo Emerson. 
 
 [32] 
 
CHAEACTER AND SALVATION 
 
 But when they stripped him of his ornaments 
 It was the baubles lost their grace, not he. 
 
 It seemed the soul within him made his limbs 
 And made them grand. The baubles were well gone, 
 He stood the more a king, when bared to man. 
 SpanishGypsy. Georgb Eliot. 
 
 He did too many grandnesses, to note 
 Much in the meaner things about his path. 
 Balaustion's Adventure. Robert Browning. 
 
 Then let us pray that come it may — 
 
 As come it will for a' that — 
 That sense and worth, o^er a^ the earth, 
 
 May bear the gree, and a' that j 
 
 For sJ that, and aJ that 
 
 It's coming yet for a' that, 
 That man to man, the warld o'er. 
 
 Shall brothers be for a' that ! 
 Honest Poverty. Robert Burns. 
 
 If I can stop one heart from breaking, 
 
 I shall not live in vain. 
 If I can ease one life the aching, 
 
 Or cool one pain, 
 Or help one fainting robin 
 
 Unto his nest again, 
 
 I shall not live in vain. 
 Poems. Emily Dickinson. 
 
 H-e preached to all men everywhere 
 The Gospel of the Golden Rule, 
 The New Commandment given to men. 
 Thinking the deed, and not the creed, 
 Would help us in our utmost need. 
 
 [33] 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
 With reverent feet the earth he trod 
 I^or banished nature from his plan, 
 But studied still with deep research 
 To build the Universal Church, 
 Lofty as the love of God 
 And ample as the wants of man. 
 Tales of a Wayside Inn. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 
 
 HYMN. 
 
 Go 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. 
 
 Samuel Longfellow (1819-1892). 
 
 [34] 
 
VI. 
 
 Biiild thee more stately mansions, O my soul, 
 
 As tlie 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 Chambered Nautilus. Oliver Wendell Hollies. 
 
PROGRESS. 
 
 HYMK. 
 
 Yet sometimes glimpses on my sight 
 Through present wrong the eternal right j 
 And step by step, since time began, 
 I see the steady gain of man, — 
 
 That all of good the past hath had 
 Remains to make our own time glad, 
 Our common, daily life divine. 
 And every land a Palestine. 
 
 Through the harsh noises of our day 
 A low, sweet prelude finds its way ; 
 Through clouds of doubt, and creeds of fear, 
 A light is breaking calm and clear. 
 
 Henceforth my heart shall sigh no more 
 
 For olden time and holier shore : 
 
 God's love and blessing, then and there. 
 
 Are now and here and everywhere. 
 
 Selected Stanzas from ''The Chapel of the Hermits^ 
 
 John Gbeenleaf Whittikr (1807-1892). 
 
 I count this thing to be grandly true, 
 That a noble deed is a step toward God, 
 Lifting the soul from the common clod 
 
 To a purer air and a broader view. 
 
 We rise by the things that are under our feet, 
 By what we have mastered of good and gain ; 
 By the pride deposed and the passion slain. 
 
 And the vanquished ills that we hourly meet. 
 
 [37] 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
 Heaven is not readied by a single bound ; 
 But we build the ladder by which we rise 
 From the lowly earth to the vaulted skies, 
 
 And we mount to its summit, round by round. 
 Gradatim. Josiah Gilbert Holland. 
 
 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. 
 The Ladder of Saint Augustine. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 
 
 Progress is 
 The law of life, man is not Man as yet. 
 I^or shall I deem his object served, his end 
 Attained, his genuine strength put fairly forth, 
 While only here and there a star dispels 
 The darkness, here and there a towering mind 
 O' erlooks its prostrate fellows : when the host 
 Is out at once to the despair of night. 
 When all mankind alike is perfected, 
 Equal in full-blown powers — then, not till then, 
 I say, begins man's general infancy. 
 
 Paracelsus. Robert Browning. 
 
 CO]S"SIDEE THE LILIES, HOW THEY GEOW. 
 
 He hides within the lily 
 
 A strong and tender care. 
 That wins the earth-born atoms 
 
 To glory of the air ; 
 
 [38] 
 
PEOGEESS 
 
 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 worlds 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 ! 
 
 "William Channing Gannett. 
 
 HYMI^. 
 
 Our God, our God, thou shinest here ; 
 
 Thine own this latter day ; 
 To us thy radiant steps appear. 
 
 Here goes thy glorious way. 
 
 [39] 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
 We shine not only with the light 
 
 Thou sheddest down of yore : 
 On us thou streamest strong and bright j 
 
 Thy comings are not o'er. 
 
 The fathers had not all of thee ; 
 
 New births are in thy grace : 
 All open to our souls shall be 
 
 Thy glory's hiding-place. 
 
 We gaze on thy out-goings bright 5 
 
 Down Cometh thy full power : 
 We, the glad bearers of thy light j 
 
 This, this thy saving hour. 
 
 On us thy spirit hast thou poured, 
 
 To us thy word has come ; 
 We feel, we thank thy quickening. Lord ! 
 
 Thou shalt not find us dumb. 
 
 Thomas Hornblowkr Gill. 
 
 As journeys the Earth, her eye on the Sun, through 
 
 the heavenly spaces, 
 And radiant in azure, or shadowed and swallowed in 
 
 tempests, 
 Falters not, alters not, journeying equal, sun-lit or 
 
 storm-girt, 
 So thou, child of Earth, who hast force, goal, and 
 
 time, go still onward ! 
 
 Translated from the German by Thomas Carltle. 
 
 What height we know not, but the way we know. 
 And how by mounting ever we attain, 
 Ajid so climb on. It is the hour for souls. 
 Aurora Leigh. Elizabeth Barrett Browning. 
 
 [40] 
 
PEOGRESS 
 
 FESTIVAL HYMK 
 
 Blest be the light that shows the way, 
 And blest the way the light has shown ! 
 
 We welcome the victorious day, 
 And every faithless fear disown. 
 
 A tyrant God and helPs despair 
 1^0 more distract our earthly lives ; 
 
 The heavens are wide, and room is there 
 For every soul that upward strives. 
 
 In love to God and love to man 
 
 Our simple creed finds ample scope j 
 
 Secure in God's unerring plan, 
 
 "We walk by faith, are saved by hope. 
 
 Be gone, ye shadows of the night. 
 
 That once enthralled the darkened soul ! 
 
 Our watchword is the Inward Light, 
 The Onward March, the Endless Goal. 
 
 Frederic Henry Hedge. 
 
 And if our poet rise 
 
 To the one theme which tries 
 
 All high emprise 
 
 Beneath — beyond the skies, — 
 If to his Lyre he add the octave chord, 
 Which chimes with each to sing the Eternal Word 
 And sound the praise of the Eternal God, — 
 
 With every year 
 
 That comes and goes, 
 
 With every tear 
 
 That fills and flows. 
 He knows that God as never known before ; 
 As he floats nearer to the Eternal shore 
 His love he sings, and scans his purpose, too, 
 With joy the prating schoolboy never knew. 
 
 [41] 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
 Aye as we live, Lifers song is better sung, 
 Aye as we live, Life's lyre more tuneful strung, — 
 The blind receive their sight, the dumb their tongue. 
 Aye as he grows, God's child becomes more young ! 
 
 "College Verses, Twenty-fifth Anniversary of the Class of 1839. 
 
 Edward Everett Hale. 
 
 [42 
 
VII. 
 
 Earth's crammed with heaven 
 
 And every common bush afire with God, 
 
 But only he who sees takes off his shoes. 
 
 Aurora Leigh. Elizabeth Barrett BROWNiNa 
 
 O, when I am safe in my sylvan home, 
 I tread on the pride of Greece and Eome ; 
 And when I am stretched beneath the pines, 
 Where the evening star so holy shines, 
 I laugh at the lore and pride of man. 
 At the sophist schools and the learned clan j 
 For what are they all, in their high conceit. 
 When man in the bush with God may meet f 
 Good-bye. Ralph Waldo Emerson. 
 
NATURE. 
 
 HYMN. 
 
 The harp at Nature's advent strung 
 
 Has never ceased to play ; 
 The song the stars of morning sung 
 
 Has never died away. 
 
 And prayer is made, and praise is given 
 
 By all things near and far : 
 The ocean looketh up to heaven 
 
 And mirrors every star j 
 
 • ••••• 
 
 The green earth sends her incense up 
 
 From many a mountain shrine j 
 From folded leaf and dewy cup 
 
 She pours her sacred wine j 
 
 The blue sky is the temple's arch ; 
 
 Its transept, earth and air ; 
 The music of its starry march, 
 
 The chorus of a prayer : 
 
 So Nature keeps the reverent frame 
 
 With which her years began, 
 And all her signs and voices shame 
 
 The prayerless heart of man. 
 The Tent on the Beach. John Greenleaf Whittier (1807-1892). 
 
 One impulse from a vernal wood 
 May teach you more of man, 
 
 Of moral evil and of good 
 Than all the sages can. 
 
 [45] 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
 Sweet is the lore which, nature brings ; 
 
 Our meddling intellect 
 Mis-shapes the beauteous forms of things : 
 
 We murder to dissect. 
 
 Enough of science and of art j 
 
 Close up these barren leaves : 
 Come forth, and bring with you a heart 
 
 That watches and receives. 
 The Tables Turned. William Wordsworth. 
 
 ISot from a vain or shallow thought 
 His awful Jove young Phidias brought, 
 I'Tever from lips of cunning fell 
 The thrilling Delphic oracle ; 
 Out from the heart of nature rolled 
 The burdens of the Bible old ; 
 The litanies of nations came, 
 Like the volcano's tongue of flame, 
 Up from the burning core below, — 
 The canticles of love and woe. 
 The Problem. Ralph Waldo Emerson. 
 
 I know not what it is, but when I pass 
 Some running bit of water by the way, 
 
 A river brimming silver in the grass. 
 And rippled by a trailing alder-spray. 
 
 Hold in my heart I cannot from a cry, 
 It is so joyful at the merry sight ; 
 
 So gracious is the water running by. 
 So full the simple grass is of delight ; 
 
 And if by chance a red-wing, passing near, 
 Should light beside me in the alder-tree. 
 
 And if above the ripple I should hear 
 The lusty conversation of the bee, 
 
 [46] 
 
N ATUEE 
 
 I think that I should lift my voice and sing ; 
 
 I know that I should laugh and look around, 
 As if to catch the meadows answering, 
 
 As if expecting whispers from the ground. 
 
 Poems. Philip Henry Savage. 
 
 It came from heaven, its power archangels knew 
 When the fair world first rounded on their view ! 
 When the young sun revealed the glorious scene, 
 Where oceans gathered and where lands grew green. 
 
 Curiosity. Charles Sprague. 
 
 !N"ature never did betray 
 The heart that loved her ; ' tis her privilege. 
 Through all the years of this our life, to lead 
 From joy to joy ; for she can so inform 
 The mind that is within us, so impress 
 With quietness and beauty, and so feed 
 With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues, 
 Eash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men 
 
 Shall e^er prevail against us, or disturb 
 Our cheerful faith that all which we behold 
 Is full of blessings. 
 Lines composed near Tintern Abbey. William Wordsworth. 
 
 Thou canst not wave thy staff in air 
 Or dip thy paddle in the lake, 
 
 But it carves the bow of beauty there 
 And ripples in rhymes the oar forsake. 
 Woodnotes. Ralph Waldo Emerson. 
 
 For the world was built in order, 
 And the atoms march in tune ; 
 Ehyme the pipe, and Time the warder, 
 The sun obeys them, and the moon. 
 
 [47] 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
 Orb and atom forth they prance 
 When they hear from far the rune ; 
 N^one so backward in the troop, 
 "When the music and the dance 
 Eeach his place and circumstance, 
 But knows the sun- creating sound, 
 And, though a pyramid, will bound. 
 Monadnock. Ralph Waldo Emeeson. 
 
 A world above man's head to let him see 
 How boundless might his soul's horizon be ! 
 How vast, yet of what clear transparency ! 
 How it were good to sink there and breathe free ! 
 How fair a lot to fill is left to each man still ! 
 A Summer Night. Matthew Arnold. 
 
 what is abroad in the marsh and the terminal sea? 
 Somehow my soul seems suddenly free 
 
 From the weighing of fate and the sad discussion of 
 
 sin, 
 By the length and the breadth and the sweep of the 
 
 marshes of Glynn. 
 
 Ye marshes, how candid and simple, and nothing 
 
 withholding and free. 
 Ye publish yourselves to the sky, and offer yourselves 
 
 to the sea ! 
 Tolerant plains, that suffer the sea and the rain and 
 
 the sun, 
 Ye spread and span like the catholic man who hath 
 
 mightily won 
 God out of knowledge and good out of infinite pain. 
 And sight out of blindness and purity out of a stain. 
 
 As the marsh-hen secretly builds on the watery sod. 
 Behold I will build me a nest on the greatness of God : 
 
 1 will fly in the greatness of God as the marsh-hen 
 
 flies 
 
 [48] 
 
 zs 
 
N" A T U E B 
 
 In the freedom that fills all the space Hwixt the 
 
 marsh and the skies j 
 By so many roots as the marsh-grass sends in the sod 
 I will heartily lay me a-hold on the greatness of God: 
 Oh, like to the greatness of God is the greatness 
 
 within 
 The range of the marshes, the liberal marshes of 
 
 Glynn. 
 The Marshes of Glynn. Sidney Laitieb. 
 
 Know'st thou what wove yon woodbird's nest 
 Of leaves, and feathers from her breast ? 
 Or how the fish outbuilt her shell, 
 Painting with morn each annual cell ? 
 Or how the sacred pine-tree adds 
 To her old leaves new myriads ? 
 Such and so grew these holy piles, 
 Whilst love and terror laid the tiles. 
 Earth proudly wears the Parthenon, 
 As the best gem upon her zone ; 
 And Morning opes with haste her lids, 
 To gaze upon the Pyramids ; 
 O'er Englaud's abbeys bends the sky. 
 As on its friends, with kindred eye ; 
 For, out of Thought's interior sphere, 
 These wonders rose to upper air ; 
 And I*^ature gladly gave them place, 
 Adopted them into her race, 
 And granted them an equal date 
 With Andes and with Ararat. 
 The Problem. Ralph Waldo Emerson. 
 
 A DAY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 O 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 ! 
 
 [49] 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
 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 ? 
 
 Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 
 
 HYMN TO THE NIGHT. 
 
 I 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 j 
 
 [ 50 ] 
 
NATURE 
 
 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 Wadswokth Longfellow. 
 
 HYMN. 
 
 The spacious firmament on high, 
 With all the blue ethereal sky, 
 And spangled heavens, a shining frame. 
 Their great Original proclaim. 
 The unwearied sun from day to day 
 Does his Creator's power display. 
 And publishes to every land 
 The work of an almighty hand. 
 
 Soon as the evening shades prevail, 
 The moon takes up the wondrous tale, 
 And nightly to the listening earth 
 Repeats the story of her birth ; 
 
 [51] 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
 Whilst ail the stars that round her burn, 
 And all the planets in their turn, 
 Confirm the tidings as they roll, 
 And spread the truth from pole to pole. 
 
 What though in solemn silence all 
 Move round the dark terrestrial ball ? 
 What though no real voice nor sound 
 Amid their radiant orbs be found I 
 In reason's ear they all rejoice 
 And utter forth a glorious voice, 
 Forever singing as they shine, 
 ^^The hand that made us is divine.'^ 
 
 Joseph Addison (1672-1719). 
 
 How like a prodigal doth Nature seem, 
 
 When thou, for all thy gold, so common art ! 
 Thou teachest me to deem 
 
 More sacredly of every human heart. 
 Since each reflects in joy its scanty gleam 
 Of heaven, and could some wondrous secret show. 
 Did we but pay the love we owe, 
 And with a child's undoubting wisdom look 
 On all these living pages of God's book. 
 To the Dandelion. James Russell Lowell. 
 
 DAFFODILS. 
 
 . I wandered lonely as a cloud 
 
 That floats on high o'er vales and hills, 
 When all at once I saw a crowd — 
 
 A host of golden daffodils 
 Beside the lake, beneath the trees. 
 Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. 
 
 Continuous as the stars that shine 
 
 And twinkle on the milky way, 
 They stretched in never-ending line 
 
 Along the margin of a bay : 
 
 [52] 
 
N ATUEE 
 
 Ten thousand saw I at a glance 
 Tossing their heads in sprightly dance. 
 
 The waves beside them danced, but they 
 Outdid the sparkling waves in glee j 
 
 A poet could not but be gay 
 In such a jocund company j 
 
 I gazed, and gazed, but little thought 
 
 What wealth to me the show had brought. 
 
 For offc, when on my couch I lie 
 
 In vacant or in pensive mood, 
 They flash upon that inward eye 
 
 Which is the bliss of solitude, 
 And then my heart with pleasure fills, 
 And dances with the daffodils ! 
 
 WiLLiAii Wordsworth. 
 
 THE EHODOEA. 
 
 In May, when sea- winds pierced our solitudes, 
 
 I found the fresh Ehodora in the woods, 
 
 Spreading its leafless blooms in a damp nook, 
 
 To please the desert and the sluggish brook. 
 
 The purple petals, fallen in the pool, 
 
 Made the black water with their beauty gay ; 
 
 Here might the red-bird come his plumes to cool. 
 
 And court the flower that cheapens his array. 
 
 Eliodora ! if the sages ask thee why 
 
 This charm is wasted on the earth and sky. 
 
 Tell them, dear, that if eyes were made for seeing, 
 
 Then Beauty is its own excuse for being : 
 
 Why thou wert there, O rival of the rose ! 
 
 I never thought to ask, I never knew : 
 
 But, in my simple ignorance, suppose 
 
 The self-same Power that brought me there brought 
 
 you. 
 
 Ralph Waldo Emerson. 
 
 [53] 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
 Wee, modest, crimson- tipped flower, 
 Thou'st met me in an evil hour ; 
 For I maun crush amang the stoure 
 
 Thy slender stem : 
 To spare thee now is past my pow'r, 
 Thou Tbonnie gem. 
 To a Mountain Daisy upon turning it down with the Plough. 
 
 Robert Burns 
 
 And what is so rare as a day in June ? 
 
 Then, if ever, come perfect days ; 
 Then Heaven tries the earth if it be in tune. 
 
 And over it softly her warm ear lays ; 
 Whether we look, or whether we listen, 
 We hear life murmur, or see it glisten ; 
 Every clod feels a stir of might. 
 
 An instinct within it that reaches and towers, 
 And groping blindly above it for light, 
 
 Climbs to a soul in grass and flowers ; 
 The flush of life may well be seen 
 
 Thrilling back over hills and valleys ; 
 The cowslip startles in meadows green, 
 
 The buttercup catches the sun in its chalice, 
 And there^s never a leaf nor a blade too mean 
 
 To be some happy creature's palace ; 
 The little bird sits at his door in the sun, 
 
 Atilt like a blossom among the leaves, 
 And 'lets his illumined being o' errun 
 
 With the deluge of summer it receives ; 
 His mate feels the eggs beneath her wings. 
 And the heart in her dumb breast flutters and sings ; 
 He sings to the wide world, and she to her nest, — 
 In the nice ear of l!^ature which song is the best ? 
 The Vision of Sir Launfal. James Russell Lowell. 
 
 [54] 
 
N ATUEE 
 
 HYMN. 
 
 Thou art, O God, the life and light 
 Of all this wondrous world we see ; 
 
 Its glow by day, its smile by night. 
 Are but reflections caught from thee : 
 
 Where' er we turn, thy glories shine, 
 
 And all things fair and bright are thine. 
 
 When day, with farewell beam, delays 
 Among the opening clouds of even, 
 
 And we can almost think we gaze 
 Through golden vistas into heaven, 
 
 Those hues that make the sun's decline 
 
 So soft, so radiant. Lord, are thine. 
 
 When youthful spring around us breathes, 
 Thy spirit warms her fragrant sigh ; 
 
 And every flower the summer wreathes 
 Is born beneath that kindling eye : 
 
 Where'er we turn, thy glories shine. 
 
 And all things fair and bright are thine. 
 
 Thomas Moore (1779-1852). 
 
 Hot midsummer's petted crone, 
 Sweet to me thy drowsy tone 
 Tells of countless sunny hours. 
 Long days, and solid banks of flowers ; 
 Of gulfs of sweetness without bound 
 In Indian wildernesses found ; 
 Of Syrian peace, immortal leisure, 
 Firmest cheer, and bird-like pleasure. 
 
 Aught unsavory or unclean 
 Hath my insect never seen ; 
 But violets and bilberry bells. 
 Maple-sap and daffodels, 
 
 [55] 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
 Grass with green flag half-mast high, 
 Succory to match the sky, 
 Columbine with horn of honey. 
 Scented fern, and agrimony. 
 Clover, catchfly, adder' s-tongue, 
 And brier-roses, dwelt among ; 
 All beside was unknown waste, 
 All was picture as he passed. 
 
 Wiser far than human seer. 
 Yellow-breeched philosopher ! 
 Seeing only what is fair. 
 Sipping only what is sweet. 
 Thou dost mock at fate and care, 
 Leave the chaff, and take the wheat. 
 When the fierce northwestern blast 
 Cools sea and land so far and fast, 
 Thou already slumberest deep ; 
 Woe and want thou canst outsleep j 
 Want and woe, which torture us, 
 Thy sleep makes ridiculous. 
 The Bumblebee. Ralph Waldo Emerson. 
 
 The pedigree of honey 
 
 Does not concern the bee ; 
 
 A clover, any time, to him 
 
 Is aristocracy. 
 
 Emily Dickinson. 
 
 THE BLUE-BELL. 
 
 In love she fell, 
 
 My shy Blue-bell, 
 With a strolling Bumble-bee ; 
 
 He whispered low, 
 
 *^I love you so ! 
 Sweet, give your heart to me ! 
 
 [56] 
 
N ATUEE 
 
 ^^ I love but you, 
 
 And I'll be true, 
 
 Oh, give me your heart, I pray ! ^^ 
 
 She bent her head. — 
 
 ^awill!" she said, 
 
 When lo ! he flew away. 
 
 JVIargaret Deland. 
 
 i:n^dian pipe. 
 
 In shining groups, each stem a pearly ray. 
 
 Weird flecks of light within the shadowed wood, 
 They dwell aloof, a spotless sisterhood. 
 No angelus, except the wild bird's lay, 
 
 Awakes these forest nuns ; yet, night and day, 
 Their heads are bent, as if in prayerful mood. 
 A touch will mar their snow, and tempests rude 
 Defile ; but in the mist fresh blossoms stray 
 
 Prom spirit-gardens, just beyond our ken. 
 
 Each year we seek their virgin haunts, to look 
 Upon new loveliness, and watch again 
 
 Their shy devotions near the singing brook ; 
 Then, mingling in the dizzy stir of men. 
 Forget the vows made in that cloistered nook. 
 
 Mary Thachee Higginson. 
 
 POPPIES IN THE WHEAT. 
 
 Along Ancona's hills the shimmering heat, 
 A tropic tide of air with ebb and flow. 
 Bathes all the fields of wheat until they glow 
 
 Like flashing seas of green, which toss and beat 
 
 Around the vines. The poppies lithe and fleet 
 Seem running, fiery torchmen, to and fro 
 
 To mark the shore. 
 
 The farmer does not know 
 
 That they are there. He walks with heavy feet, 
 
 [57] 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
 Counting the bread and wine by autumn's gain ; 
 
 But I — I smile to think that days remain 
 Perhaps to me, in which, though bread be sweet 
 
 !N'o more, and red wine warm my blood in vain, 
 I shall be glad, remembering how the fleet 
 Lithe poppies ran like torchmen with the wheat. 
 
 Helen Hunt Jackson. 
 
 A EOAD TUNE. 
 
 Oh, there is morning yonder, 
 
 And night and noon again j 
 And I must up and wander 
 
 Away against the rain. 
 
 The forests would delay me 
 With a thousand little leaves j 
 
 The hilltops seek to stay me. 
 And valleys dim with eves. 
 
 The mist denies the mountains, 
 
 The wind forbids the sea ; 
 But, mist or wind, I go to find 
 
 The day that calls to me. 
 
 For there are mornings yonder, 
 
 And noons that call and call ; 
 And there's a day, with arms outheld. 
 
 That waits beyond them all. 
 
 Josephine Preston Peabodt. 
 
 autum:n'. 
 
 The morns are meeker than they were, 
 The nuts are getting brown ; 
 
 The berry's cheek is plumper, 
 The rose is out of town. 
 
 [58] 
 
N ATUEE 
 
 The maple wears a gayer scarf, 
 
 The field a scarlet gown. 
 Lest I should be old-fashioned, 
 
 I'll put a trinket on. 
 
 Emily Dickinson. 
 
 TO THE FEIXGED GENTIAN. 
 
 Thou blossom, bright with autumn dew, 
 And colored with the heaven's own blue, 
 That openest when the quiet light 
 Succeeds the keen and frosty night ; 
 
 Thou comest not when violets lean 
 O'er wandering brooks and springs unseen. 
 Or columbines, in purple dressed, 
 Nod o'er the ground-bird's hidden nest. 
 
 Thou waitest late, and com'st alone, 
 When woods are bare and birds are flown. 
 And frosts and shortening days portend 
 The aged year is near his end. 
 
 Then doth thy sweet and quiet eye. 
 Look through its fringes to the sky, 
 Blue — blue — as if that sky let fall 
 A flower from its cerulean wall. 
 
 I would that thus, when I shall see 
 The hour of death draw near to me, 
 Hope, blossoming within my heart. 
 May look to heaven as I depart. 
 
 William Cullen Bryant. 
 
 INDIAN SUMMER 
 
 These are the days when birds come back, 
 A very few, a bird or two. 
 To take a backward look. 
 
 [59] 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
 These are the days when skies put on 
 The old, old sophistries of June, — 
 A blue and gold mistake. 
 
 Oh, fraud that cannot cheat the bee, 
 Almost thy plausibility 
 Induces my belief, 
 
 Till ranks of seeds their witness bear, 
 And softly through the altered air 
 Hurries a timid leaf ! 
 
 Oh, sacrament of summer days. 
 Oh, last communion in the haze, 
 Permit a child to join. 
 
 Thy sacred emblems to partake, 
 
 Thy consecrated bread to break, 
 
 Taste thine immortal wine ! 
 
 Emily Dickinson. 
 
 Announced by all the trumpets of the sky, 
 Arrives the snow, and, driving o'er the fields. 
 Seems nowhere to alight : the whited air 
 Hides hills and woods, the river, and the heaven, 
 And veils the farm-house at the garden's end. 
 The sled and traveller stopped, the courier's feet 
 Del.ayed, all friends shut out, the housemates sit 
 Around the radiant fireplace, enclosed 
 In a tumultuous privacy of storm. 
 The Snow-storm. Ralph Waldo Emkrson. 
 
 CANDLEMAS. 
 
 O hearken all ye little weeds 
 That lie beneath the snow, — 
 (So low, dear heart, in poverty so low !) 
 
 [60] 
 
N A T U E E 
 
 The sun hath risen for royal deeds, 
 A valiant wind the vanguard leads ; 
 Now quicken ye, lest unborn seeds, 
 Before ye, rise and blow. 
 
 O furry living things adream. 
 
 On winter's drowsy breast, 
 
 (How rest ye there, how softly, safely rest !) 
 
 Arise and follow where a gleam 
 
 Of wizard gold unbinds the stream. 
 And all the woodland windings seen 
 With sweet expectance blest. 
 
 My birds, come back ! the hollow sky 
 
 Is weary for your note. 
 
 (Sweet- throat, come back ! O liquid, mellow throat!) 
 
 Ere May's soft minions hereward fly. 
 
 Shame on ye, laggards, to deny 
 
 The brooding breast, the sun-bright eye. 
 
 The tawny, shining coat. 
 
 Alice Brown. 
 
 The stars of midnight shall be dear 
 To her ; and she shall lean her ear 
 
 In many a secret place 
 Where rivulets dance their wayward round. 
 And beauty born of murmuring sound 
 
 Shall pass into her face. 
 Three Years She Grew, William Wordsworth. 
 
 And still when night is darkening o'er 
 And stars resume their tranquil ray, 
 We see how Nature gives us more 
 Than all she ever takes away. 
 Hymns of a Hermit, John Stirling. 
 
 [61] 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
 THE CAMP.* 
 
 The bed was made, the room was fit, 
 By punctual eve the stars were lit ; 
 The air was still, the water ran, 
 No need was there for maid or man, 
 When we put up, my ass and I, 
 At God's green caravanserai. 
 Travels with a Donkey. Robert Louis Stevenson. 
 
 And Nature, the old nurse, took 
 
 The child upon her knee, 
 Saying: ^^ Here is a story-book 
 
 Thy Father has written for thee.'^ 
 
 '*Come, wander with me," she said, 
 
 ' ' Into regions yet untrod ; 
 And read what is still unread 
 
 In the manuscripts of God." 
 
 And he wandered away and away 
 With Nature, the dear old nurse. 
 
 Who sang to him night and day 
 The rhymes of the universe. 
 
 And whenever the way seemed long. 
 
 Or his heart began to fail. 
 She would sing a more wonderful song, 
 
 Or tell a more marvellous tale. 
 
 The Fiftieth Birthday of Agassiz. 
 
 Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 
 
 *** Poems and Ballads." Copyright, 1895 and 1896, Charles Scrihner's 
 Sons. 
 
 162] 
 
VIII. 
 
 Cl^e larger TBrotl^erl^ooti^ 
 
 God made all the creatures and gave them our love 
 
 and our fear^ 
 To give sign, we and they are his children, one family 
 
 here. 
 
 Saul. Robert Browning. 
 
THE LARGER BROTHERHOOD. 
 
 Then the little Hiawatha 
 Learned of every bird its language, 
 Learned their names and all their secrets, 
 How they built their nests in summer, 
 Where they hid themselves in winter, 
 Talked with them whene'er he met them, 
 Called them ^^ Hiawatha's Chickens." 
 
 Of all beasts he learned the language. 
 Learned their names and all their secrets, 
 How the beavers built their lodges. 
 Where the squirrels hid their acorns, 
 How the reindeer ran so swiftly, 
 Why the rabbit was so timid. 
 Talked with them whene'er he met them, 
 Called them ^^ Hiawatha's Brothers." 
 The Song of Hiawatha. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 
 
 Farewell ! farewell ! but this I tell 
 To thee, thou wedding-guest ! 
 
 He prayeth well who loveth well 
 Both man, and bird and beast. 
 
 He prayeth best who loveth best 
 All things both great and small, 
 
 For the dear God who loveth us 
 He made and loveth all. 
 The Ancient Mariner. Samuel Taylor Coleridge. 
 
 THE SEEMON OF SAINT FRANCIS. 
 
 Up soared the lark into the air, 
 A shaft of song, a winged prayer, 
 As if a soul, released from pain. 
 Were flying back to heaven again. 
 
 [65] 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
 Saint Francis heard ; it was to him 
 An emblem of the Seraphim ; 
 The upward motion of the fire, 
 The light, the heat, the heart's desire. 
 
 Around Assisi's convent gate 
 The birds, God's poor who cannot wait, 
 From moor and mere and darksome wood 
 Came flocking for their dole of food. 
 
 *^ O brother birds," Saint Francis said, 
 ^^ Ye come to me and ask for bread, 
 But not with bread alone, to-day, 
 Shall ye be fed and sent away. 
 
 ^^ Ye shall be fed, ye happy birds, 
 
 With manna of celestial words ; 
 
 Not mine, though mine they seem to be, 
 
 Not mine, though they be spoken through me. 
 
 '^O doubly are ye bound to praise 
 The great Creator in your lays ; 
 He giveth you your plumes of down. 
 Your crimson hoods, your cloaks of brown. 
 
 '^ He giveth you your wings to fly 
 And breathe a purer air on high, 
 And careth for you everywhere. 
 Who for yourselves so little care." 
 
 With flutter of swift wings and songs 
 Together rose the feathered throngs. 
 And singing, scattered far apart ; 
 Deep peace was in Saint Francis' heart. 
 
 He knew not if the brotherhood 
 His homily had understood ; 
 He only knew that to one ear 
 The meaning of his words was clear. 
 
 Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 
 [66] 
 
THE LAEGEE BEOTHEEHOOD 
 
 Wee, sleekit, cow'rin', tim' rous beastie, 
 O, what a panic's in thy breastie ! 
 Thou need na' start awa' sae hasty, 
 
 WV bickering brattle ! 
 I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee, 
 
 ^Yi' murd'ring pattle ! 
 
 I'm truly sorry man's dominion 
 Has broken nature's social union, 
 An' justifies that ill opinion 
 
 Which makes thee startle 
 At me, thy poor earth-born companion 
 
 An' fellow-mortal ! 
 
 But, Mousie, thou art no thy lane, 
 In proving foresight may be vain : 
 The best- laid schemes o' mice an' men 
 
 Gang aft a-gley 
 An' lea' e us nought but grief and pain 
 
 For promised joy. 
 
 To a Mouse, upon turning her up in her Nest with the Plough. 
 
 Robert Burns. 
 
 THE SAND-PIPEE. 
 
 Across the narrow beach we flit. 
 
 One little sand-piper and I j 
 And fast I gather, bit by bit. 
 
 The scattered drift-wood, bleached and dry. 
 The wild waves reach their hands for it, 
 
 The wild wind raves, the tide runs high. 
 As up and down the beach we flit. 
 
 One little sand-piper and I. 
 
 Above our heads the sullen clouds 
 Scud black and swift across the sky ; 
 
 Like silent ghosts in misty shrouds 
 Stand out the white light-houses nigh. 
 
 [67] 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
 Almost as far as eye can reach 
 
 I see the close-reefed vessels fly, 
 As fast we flit along the beach, 
 
 One little sand-piper and I. 
 
 I watch him as he skims along, 
 
 Uttering his sweet and mournful cry ; 
 He starts not at my fitful song 
 
 Or flash of fluttering drapery; 
 He has no thought of any wrong. 
 
 He scans me with a fearless eye ; 
 Stanch friends are we, well tried and strong, 
 
 This little sand-piper and L 
 
 Comrade, where wilt thou be to-night, 
 
 When the loosed storm breaks furiously ? 
 My drift-wood fire will burn so bright ! 
 
 To what warm shelter canst thou fly ? 
 I do not fear for thee, tho^, wroth. 
 
 The tempest rushes through the sky ; 
 For are we not God's children both, 
 
 Thou, little sand-piper, and I ? 
 
 Celia Thaxteb. 
 
 TO A BUTTEEFLY. 
 
 Stay near me, do not take thy flight ! 
 
 A little longer stay in sight ! 
 
 Much converse do I find in thee, 
 
 Historian of my infancy ! 
 
 Float near me : do not yet depart ! 
 
 Dead times revive in thee : 
 
 Thou bring' st, gay creature as thou art, 
 
 A solemn image to my heart, 
 
 My father's family ! 
 
 O, pleasant, pleasant, were the days. 
 The time, when in our childish plays, 
 
 [68] 
 
THE LAEGEE BEOTHEEHOOD 
 
 My sister Emmeline and I 
 
 Together chased the butterfly ! 
 
 A very hunter did I rush 
 
 Upon the prey : with leaps and springs 
 
 I followed on from brake to bush ; 
 
 But she, God love her ! feared to brush 
 
 The dust from off its wings. 
 
 William Wordsworth. 
 
 THE BALTIMOEE OEIOLE. 
 
 A winged sunbeam flashes through the trees 
 And whistles thrice, as if the air took voice 
 And all the embodied springtime cried, '^Ee- 
 
 joice !" 
 The jocund notes enchant the morning breeze, 
 
 Now here, now there, still shifting as they please, — 
 ^^ O fear not ! all is well since I am here.^' 
 The blind, the imprisoned, know that cry of 
 cheer. 
 
 And grief must yield to joy's blithe litanies. 
 
 A myriad blossoms cluster round his feet. 
 
 And all the air is full of heaven-sent things. 
 Hark! once again the jubilant treble rings. 
 
 Swift as that hurrying flight, though wild and sweet. 
 
 What room is left for meanness or deceit 
 
 Or fear, in planets where the oriole sings ? 
 
 Thomas Wentworth Higginson. 
 
 Yet, my pretty, sportive friend, 
 Little is't to such an end 
 That I praise thy rareness ; 
 Other dogs may be thy peers 
 Haply in these drooping ears 
 And this glossy fairness. 
 
 [69] 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
 But of thee it shall be said, 
 This dog watched beside a bed 
 Day and night unweary, 
 Watched within a curtained room 
 Where no sunbeam brake the gloom 
 Eound the sick and dreary. 
 
 • ••••• 
 
 This dog, if a friendly voice 
 
 Call him now to blither choice 
 
 Than such chamber-keeping, 
 
 *^ Come out ! '' praying from the door, — 
 
 Presseth backward as before, 
 
 Up against me leaping. 
 
 • ••••• 
 
 Therefore to this dog will I, 
 
 Tenderly not scornfully, 
 
 Render praise and favor : 
 
 With my hand upon his head, 
 
 Is my benediction said 
 
 Therefore and for ever. 
 
 Selected Stanzas from ''To Flush, my Dog." 
 
 Elizabeth Bakbett Browning. 
 
 L70] 
 
IX. 
 
 I^earti^ arm ipome. 
 
 What matter how the night behaved f 
 What matter how the north wind raved t 
 Blow high, blow low, not all its snow 
 Could quench our hearth-fire's ruddy glow ! 
 Snow-bound. John Greenleaf Whittier. 
 
 A home whose sunlight warms the heart, 
 A hearth by happy childhood blest j 
 Nor Discontent will dare intrude 
 Where Love's a constant guest. 
 The Old Year and the New. Mary Park Bancroft. 
 
HEARTH AND HOME. 
 
 Within the hall are song and laughter, 
 
 The cheeks of Christmas glow red and jolly, 
 And sprouting is every corbel and rafter 
 
 With lightsome green of ivy and holly ; 
 Through the deep gulf of the chimney wide 
 Wallows the Yule-log's roaring tide ; 
 The broad flame-pennons droop and flap 
 
 And belly and tug as a flag in the wind ; 
 Like a locust shrills the imprisoned sap, 
 
 Hunted to death in its galleries blind ; 
 And swift little troops of silent sparks, 
 
 Now pausing, now scattering away as in fear, 
 Go threading the soot-forest's tangled darks 
 
 Like herds of startled deer. 
 Vision of Sir Launfal. James Russell Lowell. 
 
 Happy he whom neither wealth nor fashion, 
 Nor the march of the encroaching city, 
 
 Drives an exile 
 From the hearth of his ancestral homestead. 
 
 We may build more splendid habitations. 
 
 Fill our rooms with paintings and with sculptures, 
 
 But we cannot 
 Buy with gold the old associations. 
 The Golden Milestone, Henry Wadsworth Lonqfellow. 
 
 Breathes there the man, with soul so dead, 
 Who never to himself hath said. 
 This is my own, my native land ! 
 
 [73] 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
 Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned, 
 As home his footsteps he hath turned 
 Prom wandering on a foreign strand? 
 
 The Lay of the Last Minstrel. Walter Scott. 
 
 Such is the patriot's boast, where'er we roam, 
 His first, best country ever is at home. 
 The Traveller. Oliver Goldsmith. 
 
 Not as all other women are 
 Is she that to my soul is dear ; 
 Her glorious fancies come from far^ 
 Beneath the silver evening-star. 
 And yet her heart is ever near. 
 
 She doeth little kindnesses, 
 Which most leave undone or despise 5 
 Por naught that sets one heart at ease. 
 And giveth happiness or peace. 
 Is low- esteemed in her eyes. 
 
 • •••••• 
 
 Blessing she is : God made her so. 
 And deeds of week-day holiness 
 Pall from her noiseless as the snow, 
 Nor hath she ever chanced to know 
 That aught were easier than to bless. 
 
 She is most fair, and thereunto 
 Her life doth rightly harmonize ; 
 Feeling or thought that was not true 
 Ne'er made less beautiful the blue 
 Unclouded heaven of her eyes. 
 My Love. {Selected Stanzas.) James Russell Lowell. 
 
 The world waits 
 For help. Beloved, let us love so well 
 Our work shall still be better for our love, 
 [74] 
 
HEAETH Al^D HOME 
 
 And still our love be sweeter for our work, 
 And both commended, for the sake of each, 
 By all true workers and true lovers born. 
 Aurora Leigh. Elizabeth Barrett Browning. 
 
 On to God's house the people prest : 
 Passing the place where each must rest, — 
 Each entered like a welcome guest. 
 
 One walked between his wife and child, 
 With measured footfall firm and mild, 
 And now and then he gravely smiled. 
 
 The prudent partner of his blood 
 Leaned on him, faithful, gentle, good, 
 Wearing the rose of womanhood. 
 
 And in their double love secure 
 The little maiden walked demure. 
 Pacing with downward eyelids pure. 
 
 These three made unity so sweet. 
 My frozen heart began to beat, 
 Bemembering its ancient heat. 
 
 I blest them, and they wandered on : 
 I spoke, but answer came there none : 
 The dull and bitter voice was gone. 
 
 A second voice was at mine ear, 
 A little whisper silver- clear, 
 A murmur, *^ Be of better cheer.'' 
 The Two Voices. Alfred Tennyson. 
 
 A violet by a mossy stone 
 
 Half hidden from the eye ! 
 Fair as a star, when only one 
 Is shining in the sky. 
 Lucy. William Wordsworth. 
 
 [75] 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
 AN OUTDOOR KINDEEGAETEN. 
 
 O mists tliat loiter, vague and wild, 
 
 Along the enchanted stream, 
 Come lend your lesson to my child. 
 
 And teach her how to dream. 
 
 O wood-thrush, murmuring tender lays 
 
 From pine-tree depths above, 
 Make her thy pupil all her days, 
 
 And teach her how to love. 
 
 Thou oriole, in thy blithesome chant 
 
 A fearless counsel give ; 
 Thy brave and joyous influence grant, 
 
 And teach her how to live. 
 
 And guard her, Nature, till she bears. 
 
 These forest paths along, 
 A heart more joyous than thine airs. 
 
 And fresher than thy song. 
 
 Thomas Wentworth Higginson. 
 
 Come to me, O ye children ! 
 
 And whisper in mine 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 j 
 For ye are the living poems. 
 And all the rest are dead. 
 Children. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 
 
 [76] 
 
HEAETH AND HOME 
 
 THE EOCK-A-BY LADY.* 
 
 The Eock-a- By-Lady from Hushaby street 
 
 Comes stealing ; comes creeping ; 
 The poppies they hang from her head to her feet, 
 And each hath a dream that is tiny and fleet, — 
 She bringeth her poppies to you, my sweet, 
 
 When she findeth you sleeping ! 
 
 There is one little dream of a beautiful drum, — 
 
 ^^Eub-a-dub,'- it goeth : 
 There is one little dream of a big sugar-plum, — 
 And lo! thick and fast the other dreams come 
 Of popguns that bang and tin tops that hum, 
 
 And a trumpet that bloweth ! 
 
 And dollies peep out of those wee little dreams 
 
 With laughter and singing ; 
 And boats go a-floating on silvery streams, 
 And the stars peek-a-boo with their own misty 
 
 gleams. 
 And up, up, and up, where the Mother Moon beams, 
 
 The fairies go winging ! 
 
 Would you dream all these dreams that are tiny and 
 fleet? 
 
 They' 11 come to you sleeping : 
 So shut the two eyes that are weary, my sweet. 
 For the Eock-a-By Lady from Hushaby street. 
 With poppies that hang from her head to her feet. 
 
 Comes stealing, comes creeping. 
 
 Eugene Field. 
 
 ♦Printed by permission of Charles Scribner's Sons, from "Field 
 Flowers." Copyright, 1896, by Mrs. Julia A. Field. 
 
 [77] 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
 Behold tlie child among his new-born blisses — 
 A six years' darling of a pygmy size ! 
 See, where 'mid work of his own hand he lies 
 Fretted by sallies of his mother's kisses, 
 
 With light upon him from his father's eyes ! 
 See, at his feet, some little plan or chart. 
 
 Some fragment from his dream of human life, 
 Shaped by himself with newly learndd art — 
 A wedding or a festival, 
 A mourning or a funeral — 
 
 And this hath now his heart, 
 And unto this he frames his song 
 Then will he fit his tongue 
 To dialogues of business, love, or strife : 
 But it will not be long 
 Ere this be thrown aside, 
 And with new joy and pride 
 The little actor cons another part — 
 
 Filling from time to time his ^^ humorous stage '' 
 With all the persons, down to palsied age, 
 That Life brings with her in her equipage 5 
 As if his whole vocation 
 Were endless imitation. 
 Ode on Intimations of Immortality. William Wordsworth. 
 
 Heigh ho ! daisies and buttercups, 
 
 Fair yellow daffodils, stately and tall ! 
 When the wind wakes, how they rock in the grasses 
 
 And dance with the cuckoo-buds slender and small ! 
 Here's two bonny boys, and here's mother's own lasses. 
 
 Eager to gather them all. 
 
 Heigh ho ! daisies and buttercups ! 
 
 Mother shall thread them a daisy chain 5 
 Sing them a song of the pretty hedge sparrow, 
 
 That loved her brown little ones, loved them full 
 fain : 
 
 [78] 
 
HEAETH AlsTD HOME 
 
 Sing, ^^ Heart, thou art wide, though the house be but 
 
 narrow 
 
 ?j 
 
 Sing once, and sing it again. 
 
 Heigh ho ! daisies and buttercups. 
 
 Sweet wagging cowslips, they bend and they bow j 
 A ship sails afar over warm ocean waters. 
 
 And haply one musing doth stand at her prow. 
 O bonny brown sons and O sweet little daughters, 
 
 Maybe he thinks on you now ! 
 
 Heigh ho ! daisies and buttercups, 
 
 Fair yellow daffodils, stately and tall ! 
 A sunshiny world full of laughter and leisure. 
 
 And fresh hearts unconscious of sorrow and thrall ! 
 Send down on their pleasure smiles passing its meas- 
 ure, 
 
 God that is over us all ! 
 Songs of Seven. Jean Ingelow. 
 
 CHILDHOOD. 
 
 Fair as a star, rare as a star, 
 
 The joys of the future lie 
 To the eyes of a child, to the sighs of a child. 
 
 Heavenly far and high ! 
 
 Fair as a dream, rare as a dream. 
 
 The hopes of a future sure 
 To the wondering child, to the blundering child, 
 
 Trusting and free and pure ! 
 
 Fair is the soul, rare is the soul 
 
 "Who has kept, after youth is past. 
 
 All the art of the child, all the heart of the child. 
 
 Holding his faith at last ! 
 
 Gelett Burgess. 
 
 C791 
 
APPLES OP GOLD 
 
 ESCAPE AT BEDTIME.* 
 
 The lights from the parlour and kitchen shone out 
 
 Through the blinds and the windows and bars j 
 And high overhead and all moving about, 
 
 There were thousands of millions of stars. 
 There ne' er were such thousands of leaves on a tree, 
 
 Nor of people in church or the Park, 
 As the crowds of the stars that looked down upon me, 
 
 And that glittered and winked in the dark. 
 
 The Dog, and the Plough, and the Hunter, and all, 
 
 And the star of the sailor, and Mars, 
 These shone in the sky, and the pail by the wall 
 
 Would be half full of water and stars. 
 They saw me at last, and they chased me with cries. 
 
 And they soon had me packed into bed ; 
 But the glory kept shining and bright in my eyes, 
 
 And the stars going round in my head. 
 
 Robert Louis Stevenson. 
 
 New friendships may bind us, 
 
 New loves lay their claim. 
 New homes may enshrine us, 
 They're never the same ! 
 But the home we first knew on this beautiful earth. 
 The friends of our childhood, the place of our birth. 
 In the heart's inner chamber sung always will be. 
 As the shell ever sings of its home in the sea ! 
 The Song of the Shell. Frances Dana Gage. 
 
 ♦Copyright, 1895-1896, by Charles Scribner's Sons. 
 
 [80] 
 
X. 
 
 So nigh is grandeur to our dust, 
 
 So near is God to man, 
 "When Duty whispers low. Thou musty 
 The Youth replies, lean. 
 Voluntaries. Ralph Waldo Emerson. 
 
DUTY. 
 
 Stern law-giver, yet thou dost wear 
 The Godhead's most benignant grace ; 
 Nor know we anything so fair 
 As is the smile upon thy face j 
 Flowers laugh before thee on their beds, 
 And fragrance in thy footing treads ; 
 Thou dost preserve the stars from wrong ; 
 And the most ancient heavens, through thee, 
 are fresh and strong. 
 Ode to Duty. William Wordsworth. 
 
 The path of duty is the way to glory : 
 He that walks it, only thirsting. 
 For the right, and learns to deaden 
 Love of self, before his journey closes. 
 He shall find the stubborn thistle bursting 
 Into glossy purples, which out-redden 
 All voluptuous garden-roses. 
 
 The path of duty is the way to glory : 
 
 He that ever following her commands. 
 
 On with toil of heart and knees and hands. 
 
 Through the long gorge to the far light has won 
 
 His path upward, and prevailed, 
 
 Shall find the toppling crags of Duty scaled 
 
 Are close upon the shining table-lands. 
 
 To which our God himself is moon and sun. 
 
 Ode on the Death of the Duke of Wellington, Alfred Tennyson. 
 
 L83] 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
 SONNET TO DUTY. 
 
 9e6$ ris %<jr kv i}ixlv. 
 
 Euripides (Fragm.). 
 
 Light of dim mornings ; shield from heat and cold j 
 Balm for all ailments ; substitute for praise j 
 Comrade of those who plod in lonely ways 
 (Ways that grow lonelier as the years wax old) ; 
 Tonic for fears ; check to the over-bold ; 
 
 Nurse, whose calm hand its strong restriction lays, 
 Kind but resistless, on our wayward days ; 
 Mart, where high wisdom at vast price is sold ; 
 Gardener, whose touch bids the rose-petals fall, 
 The thorns endure ; surgeon, who human hearts 
 Searchest with probes, though the death-wound be 
 given ; 
 Spell that knits friends, but yearning lovers parts ; 
 Tyrant relentless o'er our blisses all ; — 
 Oh, can it be thine other name is Heaven? 
 
 Thomas Wentworth Higginson. 
 
 How soon all worldly wrong would be repaired ! 
 
 I think how I should view the earth and skies 
 And sea, when once again my brow was bared 
 
 After thy healing, with such different eyes. 
 O world, as God has made it ! All is beauty ; 
 And knowing this, is love, and love is duty. 
 
 What further may be sought for or declared ? 
 The Guardian Angel. A Picture at Fano. Robert Browning. 
 
 [84] 
 
XL 
 
 Crut]^ anu ifreetiom* 
 
 ^Tis man's perdition to be safe 
 When for the truth he ought to die. 
 Sacrifice. Ralph Waldo Emerson 
 
 O Truth ! O Freedom ! how are ye still born 
 
 In the rude stable, in the manger nursed ! 
 What humble hands unbar those gates of morn 
 Through which the splendors of the New Day 
 burst ! 
 To W. L. Garrison, James Russell Lowell. 
 
TRUTH AND FREEDOM. 
 
 They are slaves who fear to speak 
 For the fallen and the weak j 
 They are slaves who will not choose 
 Hatred, scofl&ng, and abuse, 
 Eather than in silence shrink 
 From the truth they needs must think ; 
 They are slaves who dare not be 
 In the right with two or three 
 Stanzas on Freedom. James Russell Lowell. 
 
 AMEEIOA. 
 
 My country, His of thee, 
 Sweet land of liberty. 
 
 Of thee I sing : 
 Land where my fathers died, 
 Land of the pilgrim's pride, 
 From every mountain side 
 
 Let freedom ring ! 
 
 My native country, thee, — 
 Land of the noble, free, — 
 
 Thy name I love : 
 I love thy rocks and rills, 
 Thy woods and templed hills ; 
 My heart with rapture thrills 
 
 Like that above. 
 
 Let music swell the breeze. 
 
 And ring from all the trees 
 
 Sweet freedom's song ! 
 
 [87] 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
 Let mortal tongues awake ; 
 Let all that breathe partake 5 
 Let rocks their silence break, 
 The sound prolong ! 
 
 Our fathers^ God, to thee, 
 Author of liberty, — 
 
 To thee we sing : 
 Long may our land be bright 
 With freedom's holy light ! 
 Protect us by thy might. 
 
 Great God, our King. 
 
 Samuel Francis Smith (1808-1895). 
 
 Life may be given in many ways, 
 And loyalty to Truth be sealed 
 As bravely in the closet as the field ! 
 Commemoration Ode. James Russell Lowell. 
 
 Though the cause of Evil prosper, yet 'tis Truth alone 
 
 is strong, 
 And, albeit she wander outcast now, I see around her 
 
 throng 
 Troops of beautiful, tall angels, to enshield her from 
 
 all wrong. 
 The Present Crisis. James Russell Lowell. 
 
 Yea, let all good things await 
 Him who cares not to be great 
 But as he saves or serves the state. 
 Ode on the Death of the Duke of Wellington. Alfred Tennyson. 
 
 HYMK 
 
 City of God, how broad and far 
 Outspread thy walls sublime ! 
 
 The true thy chartered freemen are, 
 Of every age and clime. 
 
 [88] 
 
TEUTH AND FEEEDOM 
 
 One holy Churcli, 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 nighty 
 
 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 (1822-I882)i 
 
 CONCOED HYMN.* 
 
 By the rude bridge that arched the flood, 
 Their flag to April's breeze unfurled. 
 
 Here once the embattled farmers stood, 
 And fired the shot heard round the world. 
 
 The foe long since in silence slept ; 
 
 Alike the conqueror silent sleeps ; 
 And Time the ruined bridge has swept 
 
 Down the dark stream which seaward creeps. 
 
 On this green bank, by this soft stream, 
 
 We set to-day a votive stone ; 
 That memory may their deed redeem, 
 
 When, like our sires, our sons are gone. 
 
 * Sung at the completion of the Battle Monument, April 19, 1836. 
 
 [89] 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
 Spirit, that made those heroes dare 
 To die, and leave their children free, 
 
 Bid Time and Nature gently spare 
 The shaft we raise to them and thee. 
 
 Ralph Waldo Emerson. 
 
 What^s hallowed ground ? ^Tis what gives birth 
 To sacred thoughts in souls of worth ! 
 Peace, independence, truth, go forth, 
 
 Earth's compass round ; 
 And your high priesthood shall make earth 
 
 All hallowed ground. 
 Hallowed Ground. Thomas Campbell. 
 
 FEEEDOM. 
 
 Once I wished I might rehearse 
 Freedom's paean in my verse, 
 That the slave who caught the strain 
 Should throb until he snapped his chain. 
 But the Spirit said, ^^ I*^ot so ; 
 Speak it not, or speak it low ; 
 Name not lightly to be said, 
 Gift too precious to be prayed, 
 Passion not to be expressed 
 But by heaving of the breast : 
 , Yet, wouldst thou the mountain find. 
 Where this deity is shrined. 
 Who gives to seas and sunset skies 
 Their unspent beauty of surprise. 
 And, when it lists him, waken can 
 Brute or savage into man, 
 Or, if in thy heart he shine. 
 Blends the starry fates with thine, 
 Draws angels nigh to dwell with thee. 
 And makes thy thoughts archangels be j 
 Freedom's secret wilt thou know? — 
 Counsel not with flesh and blood ; 
 
 [90] 
 
TEUTH AND FREEDOM 
 
 Loiter not for cloak or food ; 
 Eight thou feelest, rush to do. ' ' 
 
 Ralph Waldo Emerson. 
 
 Eevelation is not sealed ; 
 Answering unto man's endeavor, 
 Truth and right are still revealed. 
 
 Samuel Longfellow. 
 
 Happy he whose inward ear 
 Angel comfortings can hear, 
 
 O'er the rabble's laughter ; 
 And while Hatred's fagots burn, 
 Glimpses through the smoke discern 
 
 Of the good hereafter. 
 
 Knowing this, that never yet 
 Share of Truth was vainly set 
 
 In the world's wide fallow ; 
 After hands shall sow the seed, 
 After hands from hill and mead 
 
 Eeap the harvests yellow. 
 Barclay of Ury. John Grebnleaf Whittikr. 
 
 It fortifies my soul to know 
 
 That, though I perish. Truth is so ; 
 
 That, howsoe'er I stray and range, 
 
 Whate' er I do, thou dost not change. 
 
 I steadier step if I recall 
 
 That, if I slip, thou dost not fall. 
 
 Arthur Hugh Clough. 
 
 For weakness in freedom grows stronger than strength 
 
 with a chain ; 
 And error in freedom will come to lamenting his 
 
 stain, 
 Till, freely repenting, he whiten his spirit again. 
 Psalm of the West. Sidney Lanier. 
 
 [91] 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
 I break your bonds and masterships, 
 And I uncliain the slave : 
 Free be his heart and hand henceforth 
 As wind and wandering wave. 
 
 • ••••• 
 
 To-day unbind the captive, 
 So only are ye unbound j 
 Lift up a people from the dust, 
 Trump of their rescue, sound ! 
 
 Pay ransom to the owner, 
 And fill the bag to the brim. 
 Who is the owner ? The slave is owner. 
 And ever was. Pay him. 
 Boston Hymn. Ralph Waldo Emerson. 
 
 Love thyself last. Cherish those hearts that hate thee. 
 
 Corruption wins not more than honesty ; 
 
 Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace 
 
 To silence envious tongues. . . . 
 
 Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country^ s, 
 
 Thy God's, and truth's. 
 
 Metiry the Eighth. William Shakespeare. 
 
 HYMN. 
 
 How happy is he born and taught 
 That serveth not another's will, 
 
 Whose armor is his honest thought, 
 And simple truth his utmost skill. 
 
 Whose passions not his masters are. 
 Whose soul is still prepared for death, 
 
 Untied unto the world by care 
 Of public fame or private breath, 
 
 Who God doth late and early pray 
 More of his grace than gifts to lend, 
 
 [92] 
 
TEUTH Al^D FEEEDOM 
 
 And walks with man from day to day, 
 As with a brother and a friend. 
 
 This man is freed from servile bands 
 Of hope to rise, or fear to fall, 
 
 Lord of himself, though not of lands, 
 And, having nothing, yet hath all. 
 
 Henry Wotton (1568-1639). 
 
 The riches of the Commonwealth 
 Are free strong minds and hearts of health ; 
 And more to her than gold or grain, 
 The cunning hand and cultured brain. 
 Our State. John Greenleaf Whittikb. 
 
 VEESION OF PSALM LXYIII. 
 
 Give ear, ye children, to my law 
 
 Devout attention lend. 
 Let the instructions of my mouth 
 
 Deep in your hearts descend. 
 
 My tongue, by inspiration taught, 
 
 Shall parables unfold : 
 Dark oracles, but understood. 
 
 And owned for truths of old, 
 
 Which we from sacred registers 
 Of ancient times have known, 
 
 And our forefathers' pious care 
 To us has handed down. 
 
 Let children learn the mighty deeds 
 Which God performed of old. 
 
 Which, in our younger years, we saw, 
 And which our fathers told. 
 
 Our lips shall tell them to our sons, 
 
 And they again to theirs. 
 That generations yet unborn 
 May teach them to their heirs. 
 
 Jeremy Belknap (1744-1798). 
 [93] 
 
APP LES OF GOLD 
 
 New occasions teach new duties j Time makes ancient 
 good uncoutli J 
 
 They must upward still and onward, who would keep 
 abreast of Truth ; 
 
 Lo ! before us gleam her camp-fires ! we ourselves 
 must Pilgrims be, 
 
 Launch our Mayflower, and steer boldly through the 
 desperate winter sea, 
 
 Nor attempt the Future's portal with the Past's blood- 
 rusted key. 
 
 The Present Crisis, James Russell Lowell. 
 
 Truth crushed to earth shall rise again : 
 The eternal years of God are hers ; 
 
 But Error, wounded, writhes in pain, 
 And dies among his worshippers. 
 The Battle-field. William Cullen Bryant. 
 
 Nor can I count him happiest who has never 
 Been forced with his own hands his chains to sever, 
 And for himself find out the way divine 5 
 He never knew the aspirer's glorious pains, 
 He never earned the struggle' s priceless gains. 
 O, block by block, with sore and sharp endeavor, 
 Lifelbng we build these human natures up 
 Into a temple fit for freedom's shrine, 
 And Trial ever consecrates the cup 
 Wherefrom we pour her sacrificial wine. 
 Trial, James Russell Lowell. 
 
 Heartily know, 
 When half- gods go, 
 The gods arrive. 
 Give All to Love. Ralph Waldo Emerson. 
 
 [94] 
 
TETJTH AND FEEEDOM 
 
 OUE OEDEES. 
 
 Weave no more silks^ ye Lyons looms, 
 To deck our girls for gay delights ! 
 
 The crimson flower of battle blooms, 
 And solemn marches fill the nights. 
 
 "Weave but the flag whose bars to-day 
 Drooped heavy o'er our early dead, 
 
 And homely garments, coarse and gray. 
 For orphans that must earn their bread. 
 
 Keep back your tunes, ye viols sweet, 
 That poured delight from other lands ! 
 
 Eouse there the dancers' restless feet : 
 The trumpet leads our warrior bands. 
 
 And ye that wage the war of words 
 With mystic fame and subtle power, 
 
 Go, chatter to the idle birds. 
 Or teach the lesson of the hour ! 
 
 Ye Sibyl Arts, in one stern knot 
 
 Be all your oflS.ces combined ! 
 Stand close while Courage draws the lot, 
 
 The destiny of human kind. 
 
 And if that destiny could fail, 
 The sun should darken in the sky, 
 
 The eternal bloom of Nature pale, 
 
 And God, and Truth, and Freedom die. 
 
 Julia Ward Howe. 
 
 O Beautiful ! my Country ! Ours once more ! 
 
 Smoothing thy gold of war- dishevelled hair 
 
 O'er such sweet brows as never other wore. 
 And letting thy set lips. 
 Freed from wrath's pale eclipse. 
 
 The rosy edges of their smile lay bare ; 
 
 [95] 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
 What words divine of lover or of poet 
 Could tell our love and make thee know it, 
 Among the Nations bright beyond compare ! 
 
 What were our lives without thee I 
 
 What all our lives to save thee ? 
 
 We reck not what we gave thee ; 
 
 We will not dare to doubt thee, 
 But ask whatever else, and we will dare ! 
 Commemoration Ode. James Russell Lowell. 
 
 BATTLE HYMN OF THE EEPUBLIO. 
 
 Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord: 
 He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of 
 
 wrath are stored ; 
 He hath loosed the fateful lightning of his terrible, 
 
 swift sword : 
 
 His truth is marching on. 
 
 I have seen him in the watch-fires of a hundred circ- 
 ling camps ; 
 
 They have builded him an altar in the evening dews 
 and damps ; 
 
 I can read his righteous sentence by the dim and flar- 
 ing lamps ; 
 
 His day is marching on. 
 
 I have read a fiery gospel, writ in burnished rows of 
 
 steel : 
 As ye deal with my contemners, so with you my grace 
 
 shall deal ; 
 Let the Hero, l3orn of woman, crush the serpent with 
 
 his heel. 
 
 Since God is marching on. 
 
 He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never 
 call retreat 5 
 
 [96] 
 
TRUTH AND FEEEDOM 
 
 He is sifting out the hearts of men before his judg- 
 ment-seat : 
 
 Oh, be swift, my soul, to answer him ! be jubilant, 
 my feet ! 
 
 Our God is marching on. 
 
 In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the 
 
 sea, 
 With a glory in his bosom that transfigures you and me: 
 As he died to make men holy, let us die to make men 
 free. 
 
 While God is marching on. 
 
 Julia Ward Howe. 
 
 The man who idly sits and thinks 
 
 May sow a nobler crop than corn ; 
 For thoughts are seeds of future deeds, 
 
 And when God thought the world was born. 
 
 George John Romanes. 
 
 Once slept the world an egg of stone, 
 And pube, and sound, and light was none ; 
 And God said, *^ Throb ! '' and there was motion. 
 And the vast mass became vast ocean. 
 Woodnotes. Ralph Waldo Emerson. 
 
 Thought is deeper than all speech. 
 Feeling deeper than all thought j 
 
 Souls to souls can never teach 
 
 What unto themselves was taught. 
 
 Christopher Pearse Cranch. 
 
 Then bless thy secret growth ; nor catch 
 At noise ; but thrive unseen and dumb. 
 
 Henry VAnoHAN. 
 [97] 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
 There is an inmost centre in us all, 
 Where truth abides in fulness 5 . . . 
 
 . . . and to KNOW 
 Eather consists in opening out a way 
 Whence the imprisoned splendor may escape, 
 Than in effecting entry for a light 
 Supposed to he without. 
 Faracelsus. Robert Bkowning. 
 
 [98] 
 
XII. 
 
 'Tis not the grapes of Canaan that repay, 
 But the high faith that failed not by the way. 
 
 Commemoration Ode. James Russell Lowell. 
 
 L ofC 
 
THE FAITH THAT STRENGTHENS. 
 
 When Israel, of the Lord beloved, 
 Out from the land of bondage came, 
 
 Her fathers' God before her moved. 
 An awful guide in smoke and flame. 
 
 By day, along the astonished lands 
 
 The cloudy pillar glided slow ; 
 By night, Arabia's crimson sands 
 
 Eeturned the fiery column's glow. 
 
 But, present still, though now unseen, 
 When brightly shines the prosperous day, 
 
 Be thoughts of thee a cloudy screen 
 To temper the deceitful ray. 
 
 And, O, when stoops on Judah's path 
 In shade and storm the frequent night, 
 
 Be thou, long-suffering, slow to wrath, 
 A burning and a shining light ! 
 
 WaIiTer Scott (1771-1832). 
 
 THE LANDING OF THE PILGEIM FATHEES 
 IN NEW ENGLAND. 
 
 The breaking waves dashed high, 
 , On a stern and rock-bound coast, 
 
 And the woods against a stormy sky 
 
 Their giant branches tossed ; 
 And the heavy night hung dark. 
 The hills and waters o'er, 
 
 [101] 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
 When a band of exiles moored their bark 
 On the wild Is^ew England shore. 
 
 Not as the conqueror comes, 
 
 They, the true-hearted, came ; 
 "Not with the roll of the stirring drums, 
 
 And the trumpet that sings of fame 5 
 Not as the flying come. 
 
 In silence and in fear : 
 They shook the depths of the desert gloom 
 
 With their hymns of lofty cheer. 
 
 Amidst the storm they sang, 
 
 And the stars heard, and the sea ; 
 And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang 
 
 To the anthem of the free. 
 The ocean eagle soared 
 
 From his nest by the white wave's foam ; 
 And the rocking pines of the forest roared : 
 
 This was their welcome home. 
 
 There were men with hoary hair 
 
 Amidst that pilgrim band : 
 Why had they come to wither there, 
 
 Away from their childhood's land? 
 There was woman's fearless eye. 
 
 Lit by her deep love's truth ; 
 There was manhood's brow serenely high, 
 
 And the fiery heart of youth. 
 
 What sought they thus afar ? 
 
 Bright jewels of the mine? 
 The wealth of seas, the spoils of war ? 
 
 They sought a faith's pure shrine. 
 Ay, call it holy ground. 
 
 The soil where first they trod ,• 
 
 They have left unstained what there they found, — 
 
 Freedom to worship God. 
 
 Felicia Hemans. 
 
 [102] 
 
THE FAITH THAT STEENGTHENS 
 
 God had sifted three kingdoms to find the wheat for 
 
 this planting, 
 Then had sifted the wheat, as the living deed of a 
 
 nation : 
 So say the chronicles old, and such is the faith of the 
 
 people. 
 The Courtship of Miles Standish. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 
 
 MAN'S ALLY. 
 
 Who lifts a sail invites the sun 
 
 To take his little craft in hand, 
 And when his voyage is o' er may know 
 
 The universe brought him to land. 
 Who sets his foot in law's firm track, 
 The whole great world is at his back. 
 
 MiNOT JuDSON Savage 
 
 HYMN". 
 
 Mighty God, the first, the last, 
 What are ages in thy sight 
 But as yesterday when past. 
 Or a watch within the night ? 
 
 All that being ever knew, 
 Down, far down, ere time had birth, 
 Stands as clear within thy view 
 As the present things of earth. 
 
 All that being e'er shall know. 
 On, still on, through farthest years, 
 All eternity can show. 
 Bright before thee now appears. 
 
 In thine all-embracing sight. 
 Every change its purpose meets, 
 Every cloud floats into light, 
 Every woe its glory greets. 
 
 [103] 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
 Whatsoe'er our lot may be. 
 Calmly in this thought we'll rest, — 
 Could we see as thou dost see, 
 We should choose it as the best. 
 
 William Gaskell (1805-1884). 
 
 Therefore to whom turn I but to thee, the ineffable 
 Name? 
 Builder and maker, thou, of houses not made with 
 hands! 
 What, have fear of change from thee who art ever the 
 same? 
 Doubt that thy power can fill the heart that thy 
 power expands ? 
 There shall never be one lost good ! What was, shall 
 live as before ; 
 The evil is null, is nought, is silence implying sound ; 
 What was good, shall be good, with, for evil, so much 
 good more j 
 On the earth the broken arcs j in the heaven, a per- 
 fect round. 
 Abt Vogler. Robert Browning. 
 
 How good is man's life, the mere living I how fit to 
 
 employ 
 All the heart and the soul and the senses forever in joy ! 
 
 Saul. Robert Browning. 
 
 OUE FATHEE'S HOME. 
 
 I say to thee, do thou repeat 
 
 To the first man thou mayest meet 
 
 In lane, highway, or open street, — 
 
 That he, and we, and all men, move 
 
 Under a canopy of love 
 
 As broad as the blue sky above ; 
 
 [104] 
 
THE FAITH THAT STEENGTHENS 
 
 That doubt and trouble, fear and pain 
 And anguish, all are shadows vain ; 
 That death itself shall not remain ; — 
 
 That weary deserts we may tread, 
 
 A dreary labyrinth may thread, 
 
 Through dark ways underground be led, — 
 
 Yet, if we will our Guide obey, 
 The dreariest path, the darkest way, 
 Shall issue out in heavenly day ; 
 
 And we, on divers shores now cast, 
 Shall meet, our perilous voyage past, 
 All in our Father's home at last. 
 
 And ere thou leave him, say thou this 
 Yet one word more : They only miss 
 The winning of that final bliss, 
 
 Who will not count it true that love. 
 Blessing not cursing, rules above, 
 And that in it we live and move. 
 
 And one thing further make him know, — 
 That to believe these things are so. 
 This firm faith never to forego, — 
 
 Despite of all which seems at strife 
 With blessing, or with curses rife, — 
 That this is blessing, this is life. 
 
 Richard Chenevix Trench. 
 
 HYMN. 
 
 God is love ; his mercy brightens 
 
 All the path in which we rove ; 
 Bliss he wakes, and woe he lightens : 
 
 God is wisdom, God is love. 
 
 Chance and change are busy ever, 
 Man decays, and ages move j 
 
 [105] 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
 But his mercy waueth never : 
 God is wisdom, God is love. 
 
 E'en the hour that darkest seemeth 
 Will his changeless goodness prove ; 
 
 From the mist his brightness streameth : 
 God is wisdom, God is love. 
 
 He with earthly cares entwineth 
 
 Hope and comfort from above j 
 Everywhere his glory shineth : 
 
 God is wisdom, God is love. 
 
 • ••••• 
 
 John Bowbing (1792-1872). 
 
 Eejoice, we are allied 
 
 To That which doth provide 
 
 And not partake, effect and not receive ! 
 
 A spark disturbs our clod ; 
 
 l^earer we hold of God 
 
 Who gives, than of his tribes that take, I must believe. 
 
 Then, welcome each rebuff 
 
 That turns earth's smoothness rough, 
 
 Each sting that bids nor sit nor stand, but go ! 
 
 Be our joys three-parts pain ! 
 
 Strive, and hold cheap the strain ; 
 
 Learn, nor account the pang j dare, never grudge the 
 
 throe ! 
 Bahbi Ben Ezra. Robert Browning. 
 
 There are deep things of God. Push out from shore ! 
 Hast thou found much? Give thanks and look for 
 
 more. 
 Dost fear the generous Giver to offend ? 
 Then know his store of bounty hath no end. 
 He doth not need to be implored or teased ; 
 The more we take the better he is pleased. 
 More than We Ask. Charles Gordon Ames. 
 
 [106] 
 
THE FAITH THAT STRENGTHENS 
 
 The winds that o'er my ocean run 
 Eeach through all heavens beyond the sun ; 
 Through life and death, through fate and time, 
 Grand breaths of God, they sweep sublime. 
 
 Eternal trades, they cannot veer, 
 And blowing teach us how to steer j 
 And well for him whose joy, whose care, 
 Is but to keep before them fair. 
 
 Oh, thou God's mariner, heart of mine. 
 Spread canvas to the airs divine ! 
 Spread soul, and let thy Fortune be 
 Forgotten in thy Destiny. 
 Seen and Unseen. David Atwood Wasson. 
 
 Thou, too, sail on, O Ship of State ! 
 Sail on, O Union strong and great ! 
 Humanity with all its fears, 
 "With all its hopes of future years. 
 Is hanging breathless on thy fate ! 
 We know what Master laid thy keel, 
 What Workmen wrought thy ribs of steel, 
 Who made each mast and sail and rope. 
 What anvils rang, what hammers beat, 
 In what a forge and what a heat 
 Were shaped the anchors of thy hope ! 
 Fear not each sudden sound and shock, 
 'Tis of the wave and not the rock j 
 'Tis but the flapping of the sail. 
 And not a rent made by the gale ! 
 In spite of rock and tempest's roar, 
 In spite of false lights on the shore, 
 Sail on, nor fear to breast the sea ! 
 Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee ! 
 Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears. 
 Our faith triumphant o' er our fears, 
 Are all with thee, — are all with thee ! 
 The Building of the Ship. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 
 
 [107] 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
 Is this the end ? I know it cannot be. 
 Our ships shall sail upon another sea j 
 New islands yet shall break upon our sight, 
 New continents of love and truth and might. 
 
 But still not knowing, still with orders sealed, 
 Our track shall lie across the heavenly field j 
 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 j 
 What is our foresight to his sweet surprise ? 
 Sealed Orders. John White Chadwick. 
 
 Let me go where'er I will, 
 
 I hear a sky-born music still : 
 
 It sounds from all things old. 
 
 It sounds from all things young. 
 
 From all that's fair, from all that's foul, 
 
 Peals out a cheerful song. 
 
 It is not only in the rose, 
 
 It is not only in the bird, 
 
 Not only where the rainbow glows, 
 
 Nor in the song of woman heard, 
 
 But in the darkest, meanest things, 
 
 There alway, alway something sings. 
 
 'Tis not in the high stars alone. 
 
 Nor in the cups of budding flowers, 
 
 Nor in the redbreast's mellow tone, 
 
 Nor in the bow that smiles in showers, 
 
 But in the mud and scum of things 
 
 There alway, alway something sings. 
 
 The Poet. Ralph Waldo Emersok. 
 
 [108] 
 
THE FAITH THAT STRENGTHENS 
 
 I never saw a moor, 
 
 I never saw the sea, 
 Yet know I how the heather looks, 
 
 And what a wave must be. 
 
 I never spoke with God, 
 
 Nor visited in heaven ; 
 
 Tet certain am I of the spot. 
 
 As if the chart were given. 
 Poem^ "Emily Dickinson. 
 
 O the little birds sang east, and the little birds sang 
 west, 
 
 Toll slowly. 
 And I said in nnderbreath, — all our life is mixed with 
 death. 
 And who knoweth which is best ? 
 
 O the little birds sang east, and the little birds sang 
 west. 
 
 Toll slowly. 
 And I smiled to think God's greatness flowed around 
 our incompleteness, — 
 Round our restlessness, his rest. 
 Rhyme of the Duchess May. Elizabeth Babbett Browning. 
 
 Let the thick curtain fall j 
 I better know than all 
 How little I have gained. 
 How vast the unattained. 
 
 Not by the page word-painted 
 Let life be banned or sainted ; 
 Deeper than written scroll 
 The colors of the soul. 
 
 [109 1 
 
APPLES OP GOLD 
 
 Sweeter than any sung, 
 
 My songs that found no tongue j 
 
 Nobler than any fact, 
 
 My wish that failed of act. 
 
 Others shall sing the song, 
 Others shall right the wrong, — 
 Finish what I begin. 
 And all I fail of win. 
 
 What matter, I or they ? 
 Mine or another's day, 
 So the right word be said 
 And life the sweeter made ? 
 My Triumph. John Greenleaf Whittier. 
 
 THEEE IS NO UNBELIEF. 
 
 There is no unbelief. 
 Whoever plants a seed beneath the sod. 
 And waits to see it push away the clod, 
 Trusts he in God. 
 
 There is no unbelief. 
 
 Whoever says, when clouds are in the sky, 
 
 ^ ' Be patient, heart ! Light breaketh by and by, ■ \ 
 
 Trusts the Most High. 
 
 There is no unbelief. 
 
 Whoever says, ^^ To-morrow,'' — the unknown. 
 
 The future, — trusts that Power alone 
 
 His thought cannot disown. 
 
 There is no unbelief. 
 
 And day by day, and night, unconsciously, 
 The heart lives still by faith, though lips deny : 
 God knoweth why. 
 
 Lizzie Yobk Case. 
 [110] 
 
THE FAITH THAT STEEKGTHENS 
 
 In that hour 
 From out my sullen heart a power 
 Broke like the rainbow from the shower, 
 
 To feel, although no tongue can prove, 
 That every cloud, that spreads above 
 And veileth love, itself is love. 
 The Two Voices. Alfred Tennyson. 
 
 CONFIDENCE. 
 
 O God, the scholar and the sage 
 
 Into thy mysteries peer, 
 And strive by Eeason's subtle art 
 
 To make their meaning clear. 
 
 But my bewildered soul rejects 
 
 The puzzling paths they lay, 
 And seeks to gain the eternal Heart 
 
 By some directer way. 
 
 Lord, draw me as the sun in spring 
 
 Draws the awakening vine. 
 And up some lattice of thy love 
 
 Bid my affections twine ! 
 
 So when my grasp on Eeason fails, 
 
 Faith led, I still may go. 
 And all the mystery shall melt 
 
 As melts the April snow. 
 
 Edward A. Church. 
 
 He lives, he wakes — 'tis Death is dead, not he ; 
 Mourn not for Adonais. — Thou young Dawn, 
 Turn all thy dew to splendor, for from thee 
 The spirit thou lamentest is not gone. 
 Adonais. Percy Bysshe Shelley, 
 
 [1111 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
 And many more, whose names on earth are dark, 
 
 But whose transmitted effluence cannot die 
 
 So long as fire outlives the parent spark, 
 
 Eose, robed in dazzling immortality. 
 
 ^^Thou art become as one of us/' they cry ; 
 
 ^^It was for thee yon kingless sphere has long 
 
 Swung blind in unascended majesty, 
 
 Silent alone amid a heaven of song. 
 
 Assume thy winged throne, thou Vesper of our 
 
 throng ! ' ' 
 Adonais ion the death of Keats.) Percy Bysshe Shellby. 
 
 O, not in circling depth nor height, 
 
 But in the conscious breast, 
 Present to faith, though veiled from sight. 
 
 There doth his spirit rest. 
 O, come, thou Presence infinite 
 
 And make thy creature blest. 
 A Thought on the Seashore* Josiah Condbr. 
 
 [112] 
 
XIII. 
 
 Cl^e i^opc tl^at ^aftejs* 
 
 Yet I argue not 
 Against Heaven's hand or will, nor bate a jot 
 Of heart or hope j but still bear up and steer 
 Eight onward. 
 To Cyriac Skinner. John Milton. 
 
 The sun set, but set not his hope : 
 Stars rose ; his faith was earlier up. 
 Character. Ralph Waldo Emebson. 
 
THE HOPE THAT SAVES. 
 
 Prophetic Hope, thy fine discourse 
 
 Foretold not half life's good to me. 
 Thy painter, Fancy, hath not force 
 
 To show how sweet it is to be ! 
 Thy witching dream, and pictured scheme 
 
 To match the fact still want the power ; 
 Thy promise brave from birth to grave 
 
 Life's boon may beggar in an hour ! 
 All's Well. David Atwood Wasson. 
 
 It's wiser being good than bad j 
 It's safer being meek than fierce ; 
 
 It's fitter being sane than mad. 
 My own hope is, a sun will pierce 
 
 The thickest cloud earth ever stretched ; 
 That, after Last, returns the First, 
 
 Though a wide compass round be fetched j 
 That what began best can't end worst, 
 Nor what God blest once prove accurst. 
 Apparent Failure. Robert Beowning. 
 
 Life ! we've been long together. 
 Through pleasant and through cloudy weather. 
 
 'Tis hard to part when friends are dear, — 
 
 Perhaps 'twill cost a sigh, a tear ; 
 
 Then steal away, give little warning, 
 Choose thine own time ; 
 Say not good- night, but in some brighter clime 
 
 Bid me good-morning. 
 
 Anne Ljetitia Barbadld. 
 
 [115] 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
 I go to prove my soul ! 
 I see my way as birds their trackless way. 
 I shall arrive ! what time, what circuit first, 
 I ask not : but unless God send his hail 
 Or blinding fireballs, sleet or stifling snow, 
 In some time, his good time, I shall arrive : 
 He guides me and the bird. In his good time ! 
 
 If I stoop 
 
 Into a dark tremendous sea of cloud. 
 It is but for a time ; I press God's lamp 
 Close to my breast ^ its splendor, soon or late, 
 Will pierce the gloom : I shall emerge one day. 
 Paracelsus. Robert Browning. 
 
 Ah ! let us hope that to our praise 
 
 Good God not only reckons 
 The moments when we tread his ways. 
 
 But when the spirit beckons, — 
 That some slight good is also wrought 
 
 Beyond self-satisfaction, 
 When we are simply good in thought, 
 
 Howe'er we fail in action. 
 Longing. James Russell Lowell. 
 
 [116] 
 
XIV. 
 
 €]^e lobe tl^at CnDurejs* 
 
 For life, with all it yields of joy and woe, 
 And hope and fear, — believe the aged friend, — 
 Is just our chance o^ the prize of learning love. 
 How love might be, hath been, indeed, and is ! 
 A Death in the Desert. Robert Browning. 
 
THE LOVE THAT ENDURES. 
 
 Through love to light ! O wonderful the way 
 That leads from darkness to the perfect day ! 
 From darkness and from sorrow of the night 
 To morning that comes singing o'er the sea. 
 Through love to light ! Through light, O God, to 
 
 thee. 
 Who art the love of love, the eternal ] ight of light ! 
 The New Day, Richard Watson Gildee. 
 
 The letter fails and systems fall. 
 
 And every symbol wanes ; 
 The spirit over-brooding all, 
 
 Eternal Love, remains. 
 Our Master. John Greenleaf Whittier, 
 
 It is the heart and not the brain 
 That to the highest doth attain ; 
 And he that folio we th Love's behest 
 Far excelleth all the rest. 
 Building of the Ship. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 
 
 Our Euripides, the human. 
 
 With his droppings of warm tears, 
 
 And his touches of things common 
 Till they rose to touch the spheres ! 
 Wine of Cyprus. Elizabeth Barrett Browning. 
 
 Love, like a bird, hath perched upon a spray 
 For thee and me to hearken what he sings. 
 Contented, he forgets to fly away ; 
 
 But, hush ! remind not Eros of his wings. 
 Epigram. William Watson. 
 
 [119] 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
 O it lias ruffled every spirit there, 
 Saving Love's self, who stands superb to share 
 The general gladness : awfully he stands ; 
 A sovereign quell is in his waving hands 5 
 ^o sight can bear the lightning of his bow ; 
 His quiver is mysterious, none can know 
 What themselves think of it 5 from forth his eyes 
 There darts strange light of varied hues and dyes : 
 Endymion. John Keats. 
 
 There has fallen a splendid tear 
 
 From the passion-flower at the gate. 
 She is coming, my dove, my dear, 
 
 She is coming, my life, my fate. 
 The red rose cries, ^^ She is near, she is near " 5 
 
 And the white rose weeps, ^^ She is late " ; 
 The larkspur listens, ^^ I hear, I hear '' ; 
 
 And the lily whispers, ''■ I wait. ' ' 
 
 She is coming, my own, my sweet ; 
 
 Were it ever so airy a tread. 
 My heart would hear her and beat, 
 
 Were it earth in an earthy bed ; 
 My dust would hear her and beat, 
 
 Had I lain for a century dead 5 
 
 Would start and tremble under her feet. 
 
 And blossom in purple and red. 
 Maud. Alfred Tennyson. 
 
 Love took up the glass of Time, and turned it in his 
 
 glowing hands ; 
 Every moment, lightly shaken, ran itself in golden 
 sands. 
 
 Love took up the harp of Life, and smote on all the 
 
 chords with might ; 
 Smote the chord of Self that, trembling, passed in 
 
 music out of sight. 
 Locksley Hall, Alfred Tennyson. 
 
 [120] 
 
THE LOYE THAT EKDUEES 
 
 But God said, 
 '^ I will have a purer gift ; 
 There is smoke in the flame ; 
 New flowerets bring, new prayers uplift, 
 And love without a name. 
 Fond children, ye desire 
 To please each other well ; 
 Another round, a higher, 
 Te shall climb on the heavenly stair. 
 And selfish preference forbear. ' ^ 
 The Celestial Love. Ralph Waldo Emerson. 
 
 That love for one, from which there doth not spring 
 Wide love for all, is but a worthless thing. 
 Sonnets to A, C. L. James Russell Lowell. 
 
 That is no true alms which the hand can hold ; 
 He gives nothing but worthless gold 
 
 Who gives from a sense of duty. 
 But he who gives but a slender mite. 
 And gives to that which is out of sight. 
 
 That thread of the all-sustaining Beauty 
 Which runs through all and doth all unite, — 
 The hand cannot clasp the whole of his alms, 
 The heart outstretches its eager palms. 
 For a god goes with it, and makes it store 
 To the soul that was starving in darkness before. 
 The Vision of Sir Launfal. James Russell Lowell. 
 
 I had no time to hate, because 
 The grave would hinder me. 
 And life was not so ample I 
 Could finish enmity. 
 
 Nor had I time to love j but, since 
 
 Some industry must be. 
 
 The little toil of love, I thought, 
 
 Was large enough for me. 
 Poems. Emily Dickinson. 
 
 [ 121 1 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
 FEIEIS'DSHIP. 
 
 A ruddy drop of manly blood 
 
 The surging sea outweighs, 
 
 The world uncertain comes and goes, 
 
 The lover rooted stays. 
 
 I fancied he was fled, 
 
 And, after many a year. 
 
 Glowed unexhausted kindliness, 
 
 Like daily sunrise there. 
 
 My careful heart was free again, 
 
 O friend, my bosom said. 
 
 Through thee alone the sky is arched. 
 
 Through thee the rose is red 5 
 
 All things through thee take nobler form, 
 
 And look beyond the earth. 
 
 The mill-round of our fate appears 
 
 A sun- path in thy worth. 
 
 Me, too, thy nobleness has taught 
 
 To master my despair ; 
 
 The fountains of my hidden life 
 
 Are through thy friendship fair. 
 
 Ralph Waldo Emerson. 
 
 MEMOEY. 
 
 My mind lets go a thousand things. 
 Like dates of wars and deaths of kings. 
 And yet recalls the very hour — 
 'Twas noon by yonder village tower. 
 And on the last blue noon in May — 
 The wind came briskly up this way. 
 Crisping the brook beside the road ; 
 Then, pausing here, set down its load 
 Of pine-scents, and shook listlessly 
 Two petals from that wild-rose tree. 
 
 Thomas Bailey Aldbich. 
 [122] 
 
THE LOVE THAT ENDUEES 
 
 MEMOEABILIA. 
 
 Ah, did you once see Shelley plain, 
 And did he stop and speak to you. 
 
 And did you speak to him again ? 
 How strange it seems and new ! 
 
 But you were living before that. 
 
 And also you are living after j 
 And the memory I started at — 
 
 My starting moves your laughter ! 
 
 I crossed a moor, with a name of its own 
 And a certain use in the world no doubt, 
 
 Yet a hand's-breadth of it shines alone 
 ' Mid the blank miles round about : 
 
 For there I picked up on the heather. 
 
 And there I put inside my breast 
 
 A moulted feather, an eagle-feather ! 
 
 Well, I forget the rest. 
 
 RoBHRT Browning. 
 
 Hast thou named all the birds without a gun ? 
 Loved the wood-rose, and left it on its stalk ? 
 At rich men's tables eaten bread and pulse? 
 Unarmed, faced danger with a heart of trust ? 
 And loved so well a high behavior 
 In man or maid, that thou from speech refrained. 
 Nobility more nobly to repay ? 
 O, be my friend, and teach me to be thine ! 
 Forbearance. Ralph Waldo Emerson. 
 
 Then how grace a rose ? I know a way ! 
 Leave it, rather. 
 Must you gather ? 
 Smell, kiss, wear it — at last, throw away ! 
 A Pretty Woman. Robert Browning. 
 
 [123] 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
 In my own heart love had not been made wise 
 
 To trace love's faint beginnings in mankind, 
 
 To know even bate is but a mask of love's, 
 
 To see a good in evil, and a hope 
 
 In ill-success ; to sympathize, be proud 
 
 Of their half- reasons, faint aspirings, dim 
 
 Struggles for truth, their poorest fallacies, 
 
 Their prejudice and fears and cares and doubts j 
 
 All with a touch of nobleness, despite 
 
 Their error, upward tending all though weak. 
 
 Like plants in mines which n6ver saw the sun. 
 
 But dream of him, and guess where he may be. 
 
 And do their best to climb and get to him. 
 
 Paracelsus. Robert Browning. 
 
 The quality of mercy is not strained ; 
 It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven 
 Upon the place beneath : it is twice blessed : 
 It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes : 
 'Tis mightiest in the mightiest : it becomes 
 The throned monarch better than his crown : 
 His sceptre shows the force of temporal power, 
 The attribute to awe and majesty, 
 Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings f 
 But mercy is above this sceptred sway j 
 It is enthroned in the hearts of kings. 
 It is an attribute of God himself, 
 And earthly power doth then show likest God's, 
 When mercy seasons justice. 
 The Merchant of Venice. William Shakespeare. 
 
 Who made the heart, 'tis he alone 
 
 Decidedly can try us j 
 He knows each chord, — its various tone j 
 
 Each spring, — its various bias : 
 Then at the balance let's be mute, 
 
 We never can adjust it ; 
 
 [124] 
 
THE LOVE THAT ENDUEES 
 
 What's done we partly may compute, 
 But know not what's resisted. 
 Address to the Unco Guid. Robert Burns. 
 
 Let those who never erred forget 
 His worth, in vain bewailings j 
 
 Sweet soul of song ! — I own my debt 
 Uncancelled by his failings ! 
 
 • ••••• 
 
 But who his human heart has laid 
 
 To Nature's bosom nearer? 
 Who sweetened toil like him, or paid 
 
 To love a tribute dearer 1 
 
 Through all his tuneful art, how strong 
 
 The human feeling gushes ! 
 The very moonlight of his song 
 
 Is warm with smiles and blushes ! 
 
 Give lettered pomp to teeth of Time, 
 So ^^ Bonnie Boon" but tarry; 
 
 Blot out the Epic's stately rhyme. 
 But spare his Highland Mary ! 
 Burns. John Greenleaf Whittier. 
 
 Judge not ; the workings of his brain 
 And of his heart thou canst not see ; 
 
 What looks to thy dim eyes a stain 
 In God's pure light may only be 
 
 A scar brought from some well-won field 
 
 Where thou wouldst only faint and yield. 
 
 Adelaide Anne Procter. 
 
 Where'er her troubled path may be. 
 The Lord's sweet pity wifch her go ! 
 The outward, wayward life we see. 
 The hidden springs we may not know. 
 Snow-bound. John Greenleaf Whittier. 
 
 [125] 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
 Life is too short to waste 
 In critic peep or cynic bark, 
 
 Quarrel or reprimand : 
 ' Twill soon be dark : 
 
 Up ! mind thine own aim, and 
 God speed the mark. 
 To J. W. Ralph Waldo Emerson. 
 
 You groped your way across my room i' the drear 
 
 dark dead of night ; 
 At each fresh step a stumble was : but, once your 
 
 lamp alight, 
 Easy and plain you walked again : so soon all wrong 
 
 grew right ! 
 
 What lay on floor to trip your foot ? Each object, late 
 
 awry. 
 Looked fitly placed, nor proved offence to footing 
 
 free — for why ? 
 The lamp showed all, discordant late, grown simple 
 
 symmetry. 
 
 Be love your light and trust your guide, with these 
 
 explore my heart ! 
 No obstacle to trip you then, strike hands and souls 
 
 apart ! 
 Since rooms and hearts are furnished so, — light shows 
 
 you, — needs love start % 
 Ferishtah's Fancies. Robert Browning. 
 
 [126] 
 
XV. 
 
 Behold, we know not anything ; 
 I can but trust that good shall fall 
 At last, — far off, — at last to all, 
 
 And every winter change to spring 
 In Memoriam. Alfred Tennyson. 
 
 A thread of law runs through thy prayer 
 Stronger than iron castles are. 
 And love and longing toward her goal 
 Are pilots sweet to guide the soul. 
 Seen and Unseen. David Atwood Wasson. 
 
TRUST AND PRAYER. 
 
 "Wilt thou not ope thy heart to know 
 What rainbows teach, and sunsets show ? 
 Verdict which accumulates 
 From lengthening scroll of human fates, 
 Voice of earth to earth returned, 
 Prayers of saints that inly burned, — 
 Saying, What is excellent. 
 As God lives, is permanent ; 
 Hearts are dust, hearts^ loves remain : 
 Hearths love will meet thee again. 
 Threnody Ralph Waldo Emerson. 
 
 So oft the doing of God's will 
 
 Our foolish wills undoeth ! 
 And yet what idle dream breaks ill. 
 
 Which morning light subdueth ? 
 And who would murmur and misdoubt 
 When God's great sunrise finds him out? 
 An Island. Elizabeth Barrett Browning. 
 
 GOD A]N^D A DAY. 
 
 Consider but this single day's demands, 
 
 Its dower of work, its wage of smiles and tears ! 
 
 So rich with opportunity it stands : 
 
 One day with God' is as a thousand years. 
 
 But when the clock of time shall cease to beat. 
 
 And Heaven's high call our answering hearts obey. 
 There waits a service and a rest so sweet, 
 A thousand years shall pass as one bright day. 
 
 Edward A. Church. 
 [129] 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
 HYMN. 
 
 Day by day tlie manna fell : 
 O, to learn this lesson well ! 
 Still by constant mercy fed, 
 Give me, Lord, my daily bread. 
 
 Day by day, the promise reads, 
 Daily strength for daiiy needs : 
 Cast foreboding fears away, 
 Take the manna of to-day. 
 
 Lord, my times are in thy hand : 
 All my sanguine hopes have planned 
 To thy wisdom I resign, 
 And would make thy purpose mine. 
 
 Thou my daily task shalt give 5 
 Day by day to thee I live 5 
 So shall added years fulfil 
 Not my own, my Father's will. 
 
 JOSIAH CONDER (1789-1855). 
 
 I know not what the future hath 
 
 Of marvel or surprise, 
 Assured alone that life and death 
 
 His mercy underlies. 
 
 I know not where his islands lift 
 Their fronded palms in air : 
 
 I only know I cannot drift 
 Beyond his love and care. 
 The Eternal Goodness. John Greenleaf Whittier. 
 
 [130] 
 
TEXJST AND PEAYER 
 
 BYMN. 
 
 Thou Grace divine, encircling all, 
 
 A soundless, shoreless sea, 
 Wherein at last our souls must fall, — 
 
 O love of God most free ! 
 
 When over dizzy heights we go. 
 
 One soft hand blinds our eyes. 
 The other leads us safe and slow, — 
 
 O love of God most wise ! 
 
 And though we turn us from thy face. 
 
 And wander wide and long. 
 Thou hold'st us still in thine embrace, 
 
 O love of God most strong ! 
 
 And, filled and quickened by thy breath. 
 
 Our souls are strong and free 
 To rise o'er sin and fear and death, 
 
 O love of God, to thee. 
 
 Eliza Scuddsb. 
 
 The eye, it cannot choose but see j 
 
 We cannot bid the ear be still 5 
 Our bodies feel, where' er they be, 
 
 Against or with our will. 
 
 Nor less I deem that there are powers 
 Which of themselves our minds impress j 
 
 That we can feed this mind of ours 
 In a wise passiveness. 
 
 Think you, 'mid all this mighty sum 
 
 Of things forever speaking, 
 That nothing of itself will come, 
 But we must still be seeking ? 
 Expostulation and Reply. William Wordsworth. 
 
 [131] 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
 WAITING. 
 
 Serene, I fold my hands and wait, 
 'Not care for wind, or tide, or sea j 
 
 I rave no more 'gainst time or fate, 
 For lo ! my own shall come to me. 
 
 I stay my haste, I make delays, 
 For what avails this eager pace ? 
 
 I stand amid the eternal ways. 
 
 And what is mine shall know my face. 
 
 Asleep, awake, by night or day, 
 The friends I seek are seeking me ; 
 
 No wind can drive my bark astray. 
 Nor change the tide of destiny. 
 
 What matter if I stand alone I 
 I wait with joy the coming years j 
 
 My heart shall reap where it hath sown, 
 And garner up its fruit of tears. 
 
 The waters know their own, and draw 
 The brook that springs in yonder height j 
 
 So flows the good with equal law 
 Unto the soul of pure delight. 
 
 The stars come nightly to the sky ; 
 
 The tidal wave unto the "sea 5 
 
 Kor time, nor space, nor deep, nor high, 
 
 Can keep my own away from me. 
 
 John Burbouohs. 
 
 THE THINGS I MISS. 
 
 An easy thing, O Power divine. 
 
 To thank thee for these gifts of thine ! 
 
 For summer's sunshine, winter's snow. 
 
 For hearts that kindle, thoughts that glow. 
 
 But when shall I attain to this, — 
 
 To thank thee for the things I miss f 
 
 [132] 
 
TEUST AND PEAYEE 
 
 For all young Fancy's early gleams, 
 The dreamed- of joys that still are dreams, 
 Hopes unfulfilled, and pleasures known 
 Through others' fortunes, not my own, 
 And blessings seen that are not given, 
 And never will be this side heaven. 
 
 Had I, too, shared the joys I see. 
 Would there have been a heaven for me ? 
 Could I have felt thy presence near, 
 Had I possessed what I held dear ? 
 My deepest fortune, highest bliss. 
 Have grown perchance from things I miss. 
 
 Sometimes there comes an hour of calm ; 
 Grief turns to blessing, pain to balm ; 
 A Power that works above my will 
 Still leads me onward, upward still. 
 And then my heart attains to this, — 
 To thank thee for the things I miss. 
 
 Thomas Wentworth Higginsok. 
 
 OPPOSITION.* 
 
 Of fret, of dark, of thorn, of chill. 
 
 Complain no more ; for these, O heart, 
 
 Direct the random of the will 
 As rhymes direct the rage of art. 
 
 The lute's fixt fret that runs athwart 
 The strain and purpose of the string, 
 
 For governance and nice consort 
 Doth bar his wilful wavering. 
 
 The dark hath many dear avails ; 
 
 The dark distils divinest dews ; 
 The dark is rich with nightingales. 
 
 With dreams, and with the heavenly muse. 
 
 * Poems of Sidney Lanier, published by Charles Scribner's Sons. 
 Copyright 1884 and 1891 by Mary D. Lanier. 
 
 [133] 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
 Bleeding with thorns of petty strife, 
 
 I'll ease (as lovers do) my smart 
 With sonnets to my lady Life 
 
 Writ red in issues from the heart. 
 
 What grace may lie within the chill 
 
 Of favor frozen fast in scorn ! 
 When Good's a-freeze, we call it 111 ! 
 
 This rosy Time is glacier-born. 
 
 Of fret, of dark, of thorn, of chill, 
 
 Complain thou not, O heart ; for these 
 
 Bank-in the current of the will 
 
 To uses, arts, and charities. 
 
 Sidney Lanier. 
 
 HYMN. 
 
 Slowly, by thy hand unfurled, 
 Down around the weary world 
 Falls the darkness. O, how still 
 Is the working of thy will ! 
 
 Mighty Maker, ever nigh, 
 Work in me as silently. 
 Veil the day's distracting sights, 
 Show me heaven's eternal lights ; 
 
 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 Fdrness (1802-1896). 
 [134] 
 
TETJST AND PEAYEE 
 
 A GOOD-NIGHT SONG. 
 
 My life is like a little boat 
 
 Upon a mighty river ; 
 It rocks and sways and keeps afloat, 
 
 Though swift the current ever. 
 
 Asking not to know the way, 
 Wishing not to turn or stay, 
 Floating ever night and day 
 Onward to the ocean. 
 
 Sometimes the skies are soft and fair, 
 And bright the summer weather. 
 
 When loving voices fill the air. 
 And boats glide on together. 
 
 Sometimes the skies are dark as night, 
 And not a star shines o'er me ; 
 
 It's often hard to steer aright. 
 When rocks are just before me. 
 
 And yet I know the Love, that guides 
 
 The boats upon the river, 
 Will keep me safe, whate' er betides. 
 
 Forever and forever. 
 
 Asking not to know the way. 
 Wishing not to turn or stay. 
 Floating ever night and day 
 Onward to the ocean. 
 
 Emma Endicott Marean. 
 
 THE STAES. 
 
 I lay at my ease in my little boat 
 
 Fast moored by the shore of the pond, 
 And looked up through the trees that swayed in the 
 breeze 
 
 At God's own sky beyond. 
 
 [135] 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
 And I thought of the want and the sin in the world, 
 And the pain and the grief they bring, 
 
 And I marvelled at God for spreading abroad 
 Such sorrow and suffering. 
 
 Evening came creeping over the earth, 
 
 And the sky grew dim and gray 
 And faded from sight ; and I grumbled at night 
 
 For stealing my sky away. 
 
 Then out of the dark just the speck of a face 
 
 Peeped forth from its window bars j 
 And I laughed to see it smile at me ; 
 
 I had not thought of the stars ! 
 
 There are millions of loving thoughts and deeds 
 
 All ripe for awakening, 
 That never would start from the world's cold heart 
 
 But for sorrow and suffering. 
 
 Yes, the blackening night is sombre and cold, 
 
 And the day was warm and fine ; 
 And yet if the day never faded away 
 
 The stars would never shine. 
 
 Robert Beverly Hale. 
 
 HYMN. 
 
 My heart is resting, O my God ! 
 
 I will give thanks and sing ; 
 My heart is at the secret source 
 
 Of every precious thing. 
 
 I thirst for springs of heavenly life, 
 
 And here all day they rise 5 
 I seek the treasure of thy love. 
 
 And close at hand it lies. 
 
 Glory to thee for strength withheld. 
 For want and weakness known, 
 
 [136] 
 
TEUST AND PEAYER 
 
 The fear that sends me to thy breast 
 For what is most mine own. 
 
 Mine be the reverent listening love 
 
 That waits all day on thee, 
 The service of a watchful heart 
 
 Which no one else can see. 
 
 The faith that in a hidden way 
 
 No other eye may know, 
 Finds all its daily work prepared, 
 
 And loves to have it so. 
 
 • ••••• 
 
 Anna L^etitia Waring. 
 
 Whichever way the wind doth blow, 
 Some heart is glad to have it so j 
 
 Then blow it east or blow it west, 
 
 The wind that blows, that wind is best. 
 En Voyage. Carolink Atherton Mason. 
 
 VERSION OF PSALM XXIII. 
 
 The Lord is my shepherd, no want shall I know : 
 I feed in green pastures, safe folded I rest 5 
 He leadeth my soul where the still waters flow. 
 Restores me when wandering, redeems when oi)pressed. 
 
 Through the valley and shadow of death though I 
 
 stray, 
 Since thou art my guardian, no evil I fear : 
 Thy rod shall defend me, thy staff be my stay j 
 No harm can befall, with my comforter near. 
 
 In the midst of affliction, my table is spread ; 
 With blessings unmeasured my cup runneth o'er ; 
 With perfume and oil thou anointest my head : 
 Oh, what shall I ask of thy providence more ? 
 
 [137] 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
 Let goodness and mercy, my bountiful God, 
 Still follow my steps, till I meet thee above. 
 I seek, by tbe path which my forefathers trod 
 Through the land of their sojourn, thy kingdom of 
 love. 
 
 James Montgomery (1771-1854). 
 
 HE SHALL GIYE HIS AN^GELS CHARGE. 
 
 He shall give his angels charge 
 
 Over thee in all thy ways. 
 Though the thunders roam at large. 
 
 Though the lightning round me plays, 
 Like a child I lay my head 
 In sweet sleep upon my bed. 
 
 Though the terror come so close. 
 It shall have no power to smite j 
 
 It shall deepen my repose, 
 Turn the darkness into light. 
 
 Touch of angels' hands is sweet, — 
 
 Not a stone shall hurt my feet. 
 
 All thy waves and billows go 
 
 Over me to press me down 
 Into arms so strong, I know 
 
 They will never let me drown. 
 Ah ! my God, how good thy will ! 
 I will nestle and be still. 
 
 Alice Freeman Palmer. 
 
 All as God wills, who wisely heeds 
 
 To give or to withhold. 
 And knoweth more of all my needs 
 
 Than all my prayers have told ! 
 
 Enough that blessings undeserved 
 Have marked my erring track ; 
 
 [138] 
 
TEUST a:^t> peayer 
 
 Th?wt wheresoe' er my feet have swerved, 
 His cliasteuiiig turned me back j — 
 
 That more and more a Providence 
 
 Of love is understood, 
 Making the springs of time and sense 
 
 Sweet with eternal good j 
 
 That death seems but a covered way 
 
 Which opens into light, 
 Wherein no blinded child can stray 
 
 Beyond the Father's sight j — 
 
 That care and trial seem at last, 
 
 Through Memory's sunset air, 
 Like mountain-ranges overpast, 
 
 In purple distance fair j — 
 
 That all the jarring notes of life 
 
 Seem blending in a psalm. 
 And all the angles of its strife 
 
 Slow rounding into calm. 
 
 And so the shadows fall apart, 
 
 And so the west- winds play. 
 And all the windows of my heart 
 
 I open to the day. 
 
 My Psalm. John Greenleaf Whittibe. 
 
 YESPEE HYM]S^. 
 
 Again, as evening's shadow falls. 
 We gather in these hallowed walls. 
 And vesper hymn and vesper prayer 
 Else 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 burden and the care. 
 
 [139] 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
 O God, our liglit ! to thee we bow ; 
 WitMn 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 5 
 But in the spirit's secret cell 
 May hymn and prayer forever dwell. 
 
 Samuel Longfellow (1819-1892). 
 
 HTMK 
 
 Still, still with thee, when purple morning breaketh, 
 When the bird waketh, and the shadows flee ; 
 
 Fairer than morning, lovelier than the daylight. 
 Dawns the sweet consciousness, I am with thee. 
 
 • •••••••« 
 
 As in the dawning, o'er the waveless ocean, 
 The image of the morning star doth rest, 
 
 So, in this stillness, thou beholdest only 
 Thine image in the waters of my breast. 
 
 When sinks the soul, subdued by toil, to slumber. 
 Its closing eye looks up to thee in prayer ; 
 
 Sweet the repose beneath the wings o' ershading, 
 But sweeter still to wake and find thee there. 
 
 So shall it be at last, in that bright morning 
 When the soul waketh and life's shadows flee : 
 
 Oh, in that hour, fairer than daylight dawning. 
 Shall rise the glorious thought, I am with thee. 
 
 Harriet Beecher Stowe (1812-1896). 
 
 Alike are life and death, 
 
 When life in death survives, 
 And the uninterrupted breath 
 
 Inspires a thousand lives. 
 
 [140] 
 
TEUST A]^D PEAYEE 
 
 Were a star quenched on high, 
 
 For ages would its light, 
 Still travelling downward from the sky 
 
 Shine on our mortal sight. 
 
 So when a great man dies, 
 
 For years beyond our ken, 
 The light he leaves behind him lies 
 
 Upon the paths of men. 
 Charles Sumner. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 
 
 In his face 
 Is light, but in his shadow healing too. 
 The Ring and the Book. Robert Browning. 
 
 I, that still pray at morning and at eve, 
 
 Thrice in my life perhaps have truly prayed. 
 Thrice, stirred below my conscious self, have felt 
 That perfect disenthralment which is God. 
 
 The Cathedral. James Russell Lowell. 
 
 . . . . More things are wrought by prayer 
 Than this world dreams of. Wherefore let thy voice 
 Eise like a fountain for me night and day. 
 For what are men better than sheep or goats 
 That nourish a blind life within the brain. 
 If, knowing God, they lift not hands of prayer 
 Both for themselves and those who call them friend ? 
 For so the whole round earth is every way 
 Bound by gold chains about the feet of God. 
 
 Idylls of the King. Alfred Tennyson. 
 
 Ask and receive ! 'Tis sweetly said, 
 Yet what to pray for, know I not ; 
 
 For wish is worsted, hope o'er-sped, 
 And aye to thanks returns my thought. 
 
 [141] 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
 If I would pray, I' ve naught to say- 
 But this, that God may be God still, 
 
 For him to live is still to give. 
 
 And sweeter than my wish, his will. 
 AlVs Well. David Atwood Wasson. 
 
 Why, therefore, should we do ourselves this wrong, 
 Or others, that we are not always strong, 
 That we are ever overborne with care % 
 
 That we should ever weak or heartless be. 
 Anxious or troubled, when with us is prayer. 
 
 And joy and strength and courage are with thee ? 
 
 Richard Chenevix Trench. 
 
 HYMN. 
 
 Thou Lord of hosts, whose guiding hand 
 Has 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. 
 
 • •••••• 
 
 Send us where'er thou wilt, O Lord, 
 Through rugged toil and wearying fight j 
 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 j 
 Our only rest, to do thy will. 
 
 OcTAvius Brooks Frothingham (1822-1895). 
 [142] 
 
TEUST AND PEAYEE 
 
 HYMN 
 
 FOE THE ORDINATION OF CHANDLER BOBBINS, 
 SECOND CHURCH, BOSTON. 
 
 "We love the venerable house 
 
 Our fathers built to God ; — 
 In heaven are kept their grateful vows, 
 
 Their dust endears the sod. 
 
 Here holy thoughts a light have shed 
 
 From many a radiant face, 
 And prayers of humble virtue made 
 
 The perfume of the place. 
 
 And anxious hearts have pondered here 
 
 The mystery of life, 
 And prayed the eternal Light to clear 
 
 Their doubts, and aid their strife. 
 
 From humble tenements around 
 
 Came up the pensive train, 
 And in the church a blessing found 
 
 That filled their homes again ; 
 
 For faith and peace and mighty love 
 
 That from the Godhead flow 
 Showed them the life of heaven above 
 
 Springs from the life below. 
 
 They live with God ; their homes are dust ; 
 
 Yet here their children pray. 
 And in this fleeting lifetime trust 
 
 To find the narrow way. 
 
 On him who by the altar stands, 
 
 On him thy blessing fall. 
 Speak through his lips thy pure commands, 
 
 Thou heart that lovest all. 
 
 Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-1882). 
 [143] 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
 HYMN. 
 
 Send down tliy truth, O God ! 
 
 Too long the shadows frown ; 
 Too long the darkened way we've trod : 
 
 Thy truth, O Lord, send down ! 
 
 Send down thy spirit free, 
 
 Till wilderness and town 
 One temple for thy worship be j 
 
 Thy spirit, O, send down ! 
 
 Send down thy love, thy life, 
 
 Our lesser lives to crown, 
 And cleanse them of their hate and strife. 
 
 Thy living love send down ! 
 
 Send down thy peace, O Lord ! 
 
 Earth's bitter voices drown 
 In one deep ocean of accord. 
 
 Thy peace, O God, send down. 
 
 Edward Rowland Sill (1841-1887). 
 
 EABIA. 
 
 Eabia, sick upon her bed. 
 By two saints was visited, — 
 
 Holy Malik, Hassan wise, — 
 Men of mark in Moslem eyes. 
 
 Hassan said, ^^ Whose prayer is pure 
 Will God's chastisements endure." 
 
 Malik from a deeper sense 
 Uttered his experience : 
 
 ^'He who loves his Master's choice 
 Will in chastisement rejoice. ' ' 
 
 Eabia saw some selfish will 
 
 Tti their maxims lingering still, 
 
 [144] 
 
TEUST AND PRAYEE 
 
 And replied, ' ' O men of grace, 
 He who sees Ms Master's face 
 
 Will not in his prayers recall 
 That he is chastised at all.'' 
 
 Translated from the German of Tholuck. James Freeman Clarke. 
 
 HYMN. 
 
 While thee I seek, protecting Power, 
 
 Be my vain wishes stilled, 
 And may this consecrated hour 
 
 With better hopes be filled. 
 
 Thy love the powers of thought bestowed, 
 
 To thee my thoughts would soar j 
 Thy mercy o' er my life has flowed. 
 
 That mercy I adore. 
 
 In each event of life how clear 
 
 Thy ruling hand I see, 
 Each blessing to my soul more dear 
 
 Because conferred by thee. 
 
 In every joy that crowns my days, 
 
 In every pain I bear, 
 My heart shall find delight in praise. 
 
 Or seek relief in prayer. 
 
 When gladness wings my favored hour, 
 
 Thy love my thoughts shall fill ; 
 Eesigned, when storms of sorrow lower, 
 
 My soul shall meet thy will. 
 
 My lifted eye without a tear 
 
 The lowering storm shall see ; 
 My steadfast heart shall know no fear. 
 That heart will rest on thee. 
 
 Helen Maria Willlajvis (1762-1827). 
 [145] 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
 hym:n^. 
 
 Mysterious Presence, source of all, — 
 The world without, the soul within, — 
 Fountain of life, O hear our call, 
 And pour thy living waters in. 
 
 Thou breathest in the rushing wind. 
 Thy spirit stirs in leaf and flower ,• 
 ]^or wilt thou from the willing mind 
 Withhold thy light and love and power. 
 
 Thy hand unseen to accents clear 
 Awoke the psalmist's trembling lyre. 
 And touched the lips of holy seer 
 With flame from thine own altar fire. 
 
 That touch divine still, Lord, impart, 
 Still give the prophet's burning word ; 
 And, vocal in each waiting heart, 
 Let living psalms of praise be heard. 
 
 Seth Curtis Beach. 
 
 But serene in the rapturous throng. 
 Unmoved by the rush of the song. 
 
 With eyes unimpassioned and slow 
 Among the dead angels, the deathless 
 Sandalphon stands listening breathless 
 
 To sounds that ascend from below j — 
 
 From the spirits on earth that adore, 
 From the souls that entreat and implore 
 
 In the fervor and passion of prayer ; 
 From the hearts that are broken with losses, 
 And weary with dragging the crosses 
 
 Too heavy for mortals to bear. 
 
 And he gathers the prayers as he stands. 
 And they change into flowers in his hands, 
 
 [146] 
 
TEUST AND PRAYEE 
 
 Into garlands of pnrple and red ; 
 And beneath the great arch of the portal, 
 Through the streets of the City immortal 
 
 Is wafted the fragrance they shed. 
 
 Sandalphon. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 
 
 THE LESSOK OF THE LEAVES. 
 
 O thon who bear est on thy thoughtful face 
 The wearied calm that follows after grief, 
 See how the autumn guides each loosened leaf 
 To sure repose in its own sheltered place. 
 
 Ah, not forever whirl they in the race 
 
 Of wild forlornness round the gathered sheaf, 
 Or hurrying onward in a rapture brief 
 Spin o'er the moorlands into trackless space. 
 
 Some hollow captures each ; some sheltering wall 
 Arrests the wanderer on its aimless way ; 
 The autumn's pensive beauty needs them all. 
 
 And winter finds them warm, though sere and gray. 
 They nurse young blossoms for the spring' s sweet call. 
 And shield new leaflets for the burst of May. 
 
 Thomas Wentworth Higginson. 
 
 Fewer programmes, we who have no prescience ; 
 
 Fewer systems, we who are held and do not hold. 
 
 Aurora Leigh. Elizabeth Barrett Browning. 
 
 Our little systems have their day. 
 They have their day and cease to be ; 
 They are but broken lights of thee, 
 
 And thou, O Lord, art more than they. 
 In Memoriam. Alfred Tennyson. 
 
 This Quiet all it hath a mind to doth. 
 Caliban upon Setebos. Robert Browning. 
 
 [ 117 ] 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
 We'll be calm 
 And know tliat, when indeed our Joves come down, 
 We all turn stiller than we have ever been. 
 Aurora Leigh. Elizabeth Barrett Browning. 
 
 O fret not after knowledge ! — I have none, 
 And yet my song comes native with the warmth. 
 O fret not after knowledge ! — I have none, 
 And yet the Evening listens. 
 
 From a Sonnet. John Keats. 
 
 The threads our hands in blindness spin 
 Iv[o self-determined plan weaves in j 
 The shuttle of the unseen powers 
 Works out a pattern not as ours. 
 
 Through wish, resolve, and act, our will 
 Is moved by undreamed forces still j 
 And no man measures in advance 
 His strength with untried circumstance. 
 Overruled. John Greenleaf Whittier. 
 
 [148] 
 
XVI. 
 
 patience* 
 
 Teach me your mood, O patient stars ! 
 
 Who climb each night the ancient sky, 
 Leaving on space no shade, no scars, 
 
 i^o trace of age^ no fear to die. 
 
 The Poet, Ralph Waldo Emerson. 
 
 Time, that aged nurse, 
 Eocked me to patience. 
 
 Endymion. John Keats. 
 
PATIENCE. 
 
 We cannot kindle when we will 
 The fire that in the heart resides 
 
 The spirit bloweth and is still, 
 In mystery our soul abides : 
 
 But tasks in hours of insight willed 
 
 Can be through hours of gloom fulfilled. 
 Morality. Matthew Abkold. 
 
 O small beginnings, ye are great and strong, 
 Based on a faithfiil heart and weariless brain! 
 
 Ye build the future fair, ye conquer wrong, 
 Ye earn the crown, and wear it not in vain. 
 To W. L. Garrison. James Russell Lowell. 
 
 Endurance is the crowning quality. 
 And patience all the passion of great hearts ; 
 These are their stay, and when the leaden world 
 Sets its hard face against their fateful thought, 
 And brute strength, like a scornful conqueror, 
 Clangs his huge mace down in the other scale. 
 The inspired soul but flings his patience in. 
 And slowly that outweighs the ponderous globe. 
 Columbus. James Russell Lowell. 
 
 How life in truth was sharply set with ills ; 
 
 A kernel cased in quarrek j yea, a sphere 
 Of stings, and hedge-hog round of mortal quills ; 
 
 How most men itched to eat too soon i' the year, 
 
 [ 151 ] 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
 And took but wounds and worries for their pains, 
 Whereas the wise withheld their patient hands, 
 
 IN'or plucked green pleasures till the sun and rains 
 And seasonable ripenings burst all bands 
 
 And opened wide the liberal burrs of life. 
 
 Under the Cedarcroft Chestnut. Sidney Lanisr. 
 
 O power to do ; O baffled will ! 
 
 O prayer and action ! ye are one. 
 "Who may not strive, may yet fulfil 
 The liarder task of standing still. 
 
 And good but wished with God is done ! 
 Tlie Waiting. John Grbenlbaf Whittier. 
 
 Who best 
 
 Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state 
 Is kingly ; thousands at his bidding speed, 
 And post o' er land and ocean without rest 5 
 They also serve who only stand and wait. 
 
 (On his Blindness.) John Milton. 
 
 COMPENSATION 
 
 How many an acorn falls to die 
 
 For one that makes a tree ! 
 How many a heart must pass me by 
 
 For one that cleaves to me ! 
 
 How many a suppliant wave of sound 
 
 Must still unheeded roll. 
 
 For one low utterance that found 
 
 An echo in my soul ! 
 
 John Banister Tabs. 
 
 [152] 
 
XVII. 
 
 ^elf-ConttoU 
 
 Prune thou thy words ; the thoughts control 
 
 That o' er thee swell and throng ; 
 They will condense within the soul, 
 
 And change to purpose strong. 
 
 John Hknry Newman. 
 
SELF-CONTROL. 
 
 Give me that man 
 That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him 
 In my heart's core, — ay, in my heart of heart. 
 Samlet. William Shakespeare. 
 
 And indeed he seems to me 
 Scarce other than my own ideal knight, 
 ^^ Who reverenced his conscience as his king j 
 Whose glory was, redressing human wrong ; 
 Who spake no slander, no, nor listen' d to it ; 
 Who loved one only and who clave to her — ' ' 
 
 We see him as he moved, 
 How modest, kindly, all- accomplished, wise, 
 With what sublime repression of himself. 
 And in what limits, and how tenderly ; 
 Not swaying to this faction or to that ; 
 Not making his high place a lawless perch 
 Of winged ambitions, nor a vantage-ground 
 For pleasure ; but thro' all this tract of years 
 Wearing the white flower of a blameless life. 
 Idylls of the King. Alfred Tennyson. 
 
 MY KINGDOM. 
 
 A little kingdom I possess. 
 
 Where thoughts and feelings dwell, 
 And very hard I find the task 
 
 Of governing it well ; 
 For passion tempts and troubles me, 
 
 A wayward will misleads, 
 And selfishness its shadow casts 
 
 On aU my words and deeds. 
 
 [155] 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
 How can I learn to rule myself, 
 
 To be the child I should, 
 Honest and brave, nor ever tire 
 
 Of trying to be good ? 
 How can I keep a sunny soul 
 
 To shine aloiJig life' s way ? 
 How can I tune my little heart 
 
 To sweetly sing all day ? 
 
 Hear Father, help me with the love 
 
 That casteth out my fear ; 
 Teach me to lean on thee, and feel 
 
 That thou art very near. 
 That no temptation is unseen, 
 
 ^o childish grief too small, 
 Since thou, with patience infinite^ 
 
 Doth soothe and comfort all. 
 
 I do not ask for any crown 
 
 But that which all may win, 
 Xor seek to conquer any world 
 
 Except the one within. 
 Be thou my guide until I find. 
 
 Led by a tender hand, 
 Thy happy kingdom in myself 
 
 And dare to take command. 
 
 Louisa May Alcott. 
 
 [156] 
 
XVIII. 
 
 Courage anD 9!ot* 
 
 I count life just a stuff 
 To try the soul's strength on, educe the man. 
 "Who keeps one end in view makes all things serve. 
 In a Balcony. Robert Browning. 
 
 So take Joy home, 
 
 And make a place in thy heart for her, 
 
 And give her time to grow and cherish her ; 
 
 Then will she come and oft will sing to thee 
 
 When thou art working in the furrows ; ay, 
 
 Or weeding in the sacred hour of dawn. 
 
 It is a comely fashion to be glad — 
 
 Joy is the grace we say to God. 
 
 Jean Ingelow. 
 
COURAGE AND JOY. 
 
 No endeavor is in vain ; 
 Its reward is in the doing, 
 And the rapture of pursuing 
 
 Is the prize the vanquished gain. 
 The Wind over the Chimney. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 
 
 FOE FOETY YEAES. 
 
 At the Alpha Delta Fhi Convention, May 8, 1879. 
 
 For forty years 
 Of mingled hopes and fears, — 
 Of tales of battle, told with bated breath, 
 Of peace, returning with her olive wreath, 
 Of love, of joy, of sorrow, and of death ! 
 
 For suns will sink, and twilights melt away. 
 
 Cool evenings hurry on, nor midnight stay, 
 
 But at the summons of the morn e' en night grows gray, 
 
 Stars fade from sight, and lo, the light, the day ! 
 
 Such change from day to night. 
 
 From dark to light. 
 
 Fills up the record of my forty years. 
 
 For forty years 
 You boys look forward on another page. 
 The hall is dressed j the candles are not lit; 
 The page is white, — the annals are not writj 
 Tlie stage is set, the curtain pulled away, 
 The actors dressed and ready for the play. 
 And I for chorus stand; 
 
 Is it for me 
 To say if it be farce or tragedy ? 
 
 [159] 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
 What shall the dancers dance, or what the rage 
 That heaves the history of the stormy age, 
 For forty years "? 
 
 Not mine! For forty years 
 
 The stage is all your ownj the page is yours, 
 
 Of storm or peace, 
 
 Of work or ease, 
 Of winter tempests or of summer showers,* 
 
 Not mine to tell 
 What hand shall work for woe, or what work well! 
 
 Only this oracle for gathering strife. 
 Only this lesson from a happy lifej 
 
 Who lives and works for Love 
 
 The miracle shall prove j 
 
 The eternal Power is his, whatever he do; 
 
 Weakness is strength for him, and old things are made 
 
 new. 
 As he mounts higher on these rounds of time, 
 His grasp more sure, his foot more quick to climb. 
 
 Faster the race is run. 
 
 As one by one 
 Our selfish handicaps away we fling. 
 
 Love works the miracle of youth, — 
 
 Love speaks the oracle of truth; 
 
 And they who prove 
 
 The strength of love 
 Grow younger and more young 
 
 For forty years. 
 
 Edward Everett Hale. 
 
 Lives of great men all remind us 
 
 We can make our lives sublime ; 
 And, departing, leave behind us 
 Footprints on the sands of time. 
 A Psalm of Life, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 
 
 [160] 
 
COUEAGE A:N'D JOY 
 
 HEEOISM. 
 
 Wlietlier we climb, whether we plod, 
 
 Space for one task the scant years lend, — 
 
 To choose some path that leads to God, 
 And keep it to the end. 
 
 LiZETTE WOODWORTH ReESE. 
 
 One day, with life and heart. 
 Is more than time enough to find a world. 
 Columbus. James Russell Lowell. 
 
 CHOICE. 
 
 The string o' erst retched breaks, and the music flies; 
 The string o'erslack is dumb, and music dies; 
 Tune us the sitar neither low nor high. 
 
 Edwin Arnold. 
 
 Nor low nor high! My heart learned once that prayer. 
 
 That humble prayer, that asks the steady glow 
 
 Of moderation only ; seeks to know 
 
 The strength of slow successes ; fears to share 
 
 Ambitions sweet, tempting to heights more fair. 
 
 A simple life, attuned nor high nor low, 
 
 May gain a heaven, escape from bitter woe, 
 
 Nor need to greatly suffer, greatly dare. 
 
 Take back thy gift of peace ! I claim the smart 
 
 And ache of passion for a vision high ! 
 
 Make me thy instrument, and justify 
 
 This longing once thy message to impart ! 
 
 Awake one song to stir a hero's heart. 
 
 Then let the tense strings break, the music die ! 
 
 Emma Endicott IVIarean. 
 
 The timid it concerns to ask their way. 
 And fear what foe in caves and swamps can stay. 
 To make no step until the event is known. 
 And ills to come as evils past bemoan. 
 
 Woodnotes. Ralph "Waldo Emersojt. 
 
 [161] 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
 HYMK. 
 
 Awake, my soul, stretch every nerve, 
 
 And press with vigor on ! 
 A heavenly race demands thy zeal, 
 
 And an immortal crown. 
 
 A crowd of witnesses around 
 
 Hold thee in full survey : 
 Forget the steps already trod, 
 
 And onward urge thy way. 
 
 'Tis God's all-animating voice 
 
 That calls thee from on high ; 
 'Tis his own hand presents the prize 
 
 To thine aspiring eye, — 
 
 That prize, with peerless glories bright. 
 
 Which shall new lustre boast 
 When victors' wreaths and monarchs' gems 
 
 Shall blend in common dust. 
 
 Philip Doddridge (1702-1751). 
 
 Ah, well! — The world is discreet ; 
 
 There are plenty to pause and wait ; 
 But here was a man who set his feet 
 
 Sometimes in advance of fate, — 
 
 Plucked off the old bark when the inner 
 
 Was slow to renew it, 
 And put to the Lord's work the sinner 
 
 When saints failed to do it. 
 
 To G. L. S. John Greenleaf Whittier. 
 
 One who never turned his back, but marched breast 
 
 forward ; 
 Never doubted clouds would break, 
 Never dreamed, though right were worsted, wrong 
 
 would triumph, 
 Held we fall to rise, are baffled to fight better, sleep 
 
 to wake. 
 
 [162] 
 
COURAGE AKD JOY 
 
 No, at noonday in the bustle of man^s work- time, 
 
 Greet the unseen with a cheer ! 
 Bid him forward, breast and back as either should be, 
 *^ Strive and thrive ! '' cry, ^^ Speed, — fight on, fare 
 ever there as here." 
 
 Epilogue to Asolando. Robert BKOWNma. 
 
 HYMN. 
 
 God's glory is a wondrous thing. 
 
 Most strange in all its ways, 
 And, of all things on earth, least like 
 
 What men agree to praise. 
 
 Workman of God, O, lose not heart, 
 
 But learn what God is like, 
 And, in the darkest battlefield, 
 
 Thou shalt know where to strike. 
 
 Thrice blest is he to whom is given 
 
 The instinct that can tell 
 That God is in the field when he 
 
 Is most invisible. 
 
 Blest, too, is he who can divine 
 
 Where real right doth lie, 
 And dares to take the side that seems 
 
 Wrong to man's blindfold eye. 
 
 For right is right, since God is God, 
 And right the day must win j 
 
 To doubt would be disloyalty. 
 To falter would be sin. 
 
 Selected Stanzas. Frederick William Faber (1814-1863). 
 
 O, man of silent mood, 
 
 A stranger among strangers then. 
 
 How art thou since renowned the great, the good. 
 
 Familiar as the day in all the homes of men ! 
 
 [163] 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
 The winged years, that winnow praise and blame, 
 Blow many names out : they but fan to flame 
 The self- renewing splendors of thy fame. 
 
 His was the impartial vision of the great 
 Who see not as they wish, but as they find. 
 
 He chose, as men choose, where most danger showed, 
 
 Kor ever faltered 'neath the load 
 
 Of petty cares, that gall great hearts the most, 
 
 But kept right on the strenuous up-hill road, 
 
 Strong to the end, above complaint or boast ! 
 
 Under the Old Elm. James Russell Lowell. 
 
 Men who might 
 Do greatly in a universe that breaks 
 
 And burns, must ever know before they do. 
 
 I tell you rather that, whoever may 
 
 Discern true ends here, shall grow pure enough 
 To love them, brave enough to strive for them, 
 
 And strong to reach them though the roads be 
 rough. 
 Casa Guidi Windows. Elizabeth Barrett Browning. 
 
 How beautiful is youth, how bright it gleams 
 With its illusions, aspirations, dreams ! 
 Book of beginnings, story without end. 
 Each maid a heroine, and each man a friend ! 
 Aladdin's lamp, and Fortunatus' purse. 
 That holds the treasures of the universe ! 
 All possibilities are in its hands, 
 2^0 danger daunts it and no foe withstands ! 
 In its sublime audacity of faith, 
 ^^ Be thou removed ! '^ it to the mountain saith. 
 And with ambitious feet, secure and proud, 
 Ascends the ladder leaning on the cloud ! 
 Morituri Salutamus. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 
 
 [164] 
 
COURAGE AND JOY 
 
 Grow old along with me ! 
 
 The best is yet to be, 
 
 The last of life, for which the first was made : 
 
 Our times are in his hand 
 
 Who saith, ^^ A whole I planned, 
 
 Youth shows but half j trust God : see all, nor be 
 
 afraid ! ' ' 
 Rabbi Ben Ezra. Robert Browning. 
 
 Be sure they sleep not whom God needs! Nor fear 
 Their holding light his charge when every hour 
 That finds that charge delayed is a new death. 
 Paracelsus. Robert Browning. 
 
 Go boldly, go serenely, go augustly — 
 What shall withstand thee then ? 
 The Return of the Druses. Robert Browning. 
 
 HYIVIN. 
 
 God is my strong salvation : 
 
 What foe have I to fear ? 
 In darkness and temptation, 
 
 My light, my help, is near. 
 Though hosts encamp around me, 
 
 Firm to the fight I stand : 
 What terror can confound me 
 
 With God at my right hand t 
 
 Place on the Lord reliance, 
 
 My soul, with courage wait ; 
 His truth be thine af&ance, 
 
 When faint and desolate. 
 His might thine heart shall strengthen, 
 
 His love thy joy increase, 
 Mercy thy days shall lengthen. 
 
 The Lord will give thee peace. 
 
 James Montgomery (1771-1854). 
 [ 165 ] 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
 OPPOETUOTTY. 
 
 This I beheld, or dreamed it in a dream : — 
 There spread a cloud of dust along a plain ; 
 And underneath the cloud, or in it, raged 
 A furious battle, and men yelled, and swords 
 Shocked upon swords and shields. A prince's ban- 
 ner 
 "Wavered, then staggered backward, hemmed by foes. 
 A craven hung along the battle's edge, 
 And thought, ^' Had I a sword of keener steel — 
 The blue blade that the king's son bears — but this 
 Blunt thing — !" he snapt and flung it from his 
 
 hand. 
 And lowering crept away and left the field. 
 Then came the king's son, wounded, sore bestead, 
 And weaponless, and saw the broken sword. 
 Hilt-buried in the dry and trodden sand, 
 And ran and snatched it ; and with battle-shout 
 Lifted afresh he hewed his enemy down. 
 And saved a great cause that heroic day. 
 
 Edward Rowland Sill. 
 
 "When sudden . . . how think ye, the end ? 
 Did I say ^ ' without friend ' ' ? 
 Say rather, from marge to blue marge 
 The whole sky grew his targe 
 With the sun's self for visible boss. 
 While an Arm ran across 
 Which the earth heaved beneath like a breast 
 Where the wretch was safe prest ! 
 Do you see ? Just my vengeance complete. 
 The man sprang to his feet, 
 Stood erect, caught at God's skirts, and prayed ! 
 — So J was afraid ! 
 Instans Tyrannus. Robert Browning. 
 
 [166] 
 
COUEAGE AND JOY 
 
 What, my soul ? see thus far and no farther I when 
 
 doors great and small, 
 Nine-and-ninety flew ope at our touch, should the 
 
 hundredth appall I 
 In the least things have faith, yet distrust in the 
 
 greatest of all ? 
 Saul. Robert BROTTNiNa. 
 
 ALL SOULS. 
 
 What was his name f I do not know his name. 
 I only know he heard God's voice and came j 
 Brought all he loved across the sea 
 To live and work for God — and me ; 
 Felled the ungracious oak. 
 With horrid toil 
 Dragged from the soil 
 The thrice-gnarled roots and stubborn rock j 
 With plenty piled the haggard mountain-side, 
 And, when his work was done, without memorial died. 
 !N'o blaring trumpet sounded out his fame ; 
 He lived, he died. I do not know his name. 
 
 'No form of bronze and no memorial stones 
 Show me the place where lie his mouldering bones j 
 Only a cheerful city stands, 
 Builded by his hardened hands. 
 Only ten thousand homes 
 Where every day 
 The cheerful play 
 Of love and hope and courage comes ; 
 These are his monuments, and these alone. 
 There is no form of bronze and no memorial stone. 
 
 And II 
 Is there some desert or some boundless sea 
 Where thou, great God of angels, wilt send me ? 
 Some oak for me to rend, some sod, 
 
 [167] 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
 Some rock for me to break, 
 Some handful of thy corn to take 
 And scatter far afield, 
 Till it in turn shall yield 
 Its hundred-fold 
 Of grains of gold 
 To feed the happy children of my God ? 
 Show me the desert, Father, or the sea. 
 Is it thine enterprise ? Great God, send me ! 
 And though this body lie where ocean rolls, 
 Father, count me among all faithful souls. 
 
 Edwakd Everett Hale. 
 
 A great hand, careful lest it crush, 
 Startled him on the shoulder : up he stared, 
 And over him, who stood but Herakles ? 
 There smiled the mighty presence, all one smile 
 And no touch more of the world-weary God, 
 Through the brief respite. 
 Balaustion's Adventure. Robert Browning. 
 
 Keep but heart and healthful courage. 
 Keep the ship against the sea, 
 Thou shalt pass the dangerous quicksands 
 That insnare futurity. 
 In My Valley. Julia Ward Howe. 
 
 JOY, SHIPMATE, JOY! 
 
 Joy, Shipmate, joy ! 
 
 (Pleas' d to my soul at death I cry,) 
 
 Our life is closed, our life begins, 
 
 The long, long anchorage we leave ; 
 
 The ship is clear at last, she leaps ! 
 
 She swiftly courses from the shore. 
 
 Joy, Shipmate, joy ! 
 
 Walt Whitman. 
 
 [168] 
 
COUEAGE AND JOY 
 
 CAST OFF THE LIJSTES. 
 
 '* Cast off the lines ! '^ Our friend goes forth 
 
 To voyage upon an unknown sea ; 
 His smiling face turns back to us, 
 
 And still his cheerful voice rings free. 
 
 *^ Cast off the lines ! '^ No fear, no doubt, 
 
 For God is pilot on that sea; 
 O thou, who rulest time and tide, 
 
 We trust his future course to thee. 
 
 ^^ Cast off the lines ! '' Good-bye, good-bye I 
 With wistful looks we search the sea j 
 
 Lo ! love and mem'ry call him back — 
 In loyal hearts his home shall be. 
 
 Edward Augustus Horton. 
 
 ATHANASIA. 
 
 The ship may sink 
 
 And I may drink 
 A hasty death in the bitter seaj 
 
 But all that I leave 
 
 In the ocean grave 
 Can be slipped and spared, and no loss to me. 
 
 What care I 
 
 Though falls the sky, 
 And the shrivelling earth to a cinder turn f 
 
 No fires of doom 
 
 Can ever consume 
 What never was made nor meant to burn. 
 
 Let go the breath ! 
 There is no death 
 To the living soul, nor loss, nor harm. 
 Not of the clod 
 Is the life of God ; 
 Let it mount, as it will, from form to form. 
 
 Charles Gordon Ames. 
 [169] 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
 THE STIREUP-CUR* 
 
 Death, thou'rt a cordial old and rare : 
 Look how compounded, with what care ! 
 Time got his wrinkles reaping thee 
 Sweet herbs from all antiquity. 
 
 David to thy distillage went, 
 Keats and Gotama excellent, 
 Omar Khdyydm and Chaucer bright, 
 And Shakespeare for a king-delight. 
 
 Then, Time, let not a drop be spilt j 
 
 Hand me the cup whenever thou wilt : 
 
 'Tis thy rich stirrup cup to me ; 
 
 I'll drink it down right smilingly. 
 
 Sidney Laniek. 
 
 As the bird trims her to the gale, 
 I trim myself to the storm of time, 
 I man the rudder, reef the sail, 
 Obey the voice at eve obeyed at prime : 
 ' Lowly faithful, banish fear. 
 Eight onward drive unharmed ; 
 The port, well worth the cruise, is near, 
 And every wave is charmed. ' 
 Terminus. Ralph Waldo Emerson. 
 
 * Poems of Sidney Lanier. Published by Charles Scribner's Sons. 
 Copyright 1884-1891. Mary D. Lanier. 
 
 [170] 
 
XIX. 
 
 Such ever was lovers way ; to rise, it stoops. 
 A Death in the Desert. Robert Browning. 
 
HUMILITY. 
 
 ''There is none like to me,'^ says the cub, 
 
 In the pride of his earliest kill ; 
 But the jungle is large, and the cub, he is small, 
 
 Let him think and be still. 
 
 RuDYARD Kipling. 
 
 FABLE. 
 
 The mountain and the squirrel 
 
 Had a quarrel ; 
 
 And the former called the latter '* Little Prig.'' 
 
 Bun replied, 
 
 ^ ^ You are doubtless very big ; 
 
 But all sorts of things and weather 
 
 Must be taken in together, 
 
 To make up a year 
 
 And a sphere. 
 
 And I think it no disgrace 
 
 To occupy my place. 
 
 If I'm not so large as you. 
 
 You are not so small as I, 
 
 And not half so spry. 
 
 I'll not deny you make 
 
 A very pretty squirrel track ; 
 
 Talents differ ; all is well and wisely put 5 
 
 If I cannot carry forests on my back, 
 
 Neither can you crack a nut." 
 
 Ralph Waldo Emkrson. 
 
 Stranger ! Henceforth be warned, and know that pride, 
 Howe'er disguised in its own majesty, 
 
 [173] 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
 Is littleness ; that he who feels contempt 
 
 For any living thing hath faculties 
 
 Which he has never used ; that thought with him 
 
 Is in its infancy. The man whose eye 
 
 Is ever on himself doth look on one, 
 
 The least of I^ature^s works, one who might move 
 
 The wise man to that scorn which wisdom holds 
 
 Unlawful ever. O be wiser thou, 
 
 Instructed that true knowledge leads to love ; 
 
 True dignity abides with him alone 
 
 Who in the silent hour of inward thought 
 
 Can still respect and still revere himself 
 
 In lowliness of heart. 
 
 Lines left upon a Seat in aYew-tree. William Wordsworth. 
 
 HYMK 
 
 Father, to us thy children, humbly kneeling, 
 
 Conscious of weakness, ignorance, sin, and shame, 
 
 Give such a force of holy thought and feeling, 
 That we may live to glorify thy name, 
 
 That we may conquer base desire and passion, 
 That we may rise from selfish thought and will, 
 
 O'ercome the world's allurement, threat and fashion, 
 Walk humbly, gently, leaning on thee still. 
 
 Let all thy goodness by our minds be seen. 
 Let all thy mercy on our souls be sealed. 
 
 Lord, if thou wilt, thy power can make us clean 5 
 Oh, speak the word, thy servants shall be healed ! 
 
 James Freeman Clarke (I8IO-I888). 
 
 Not on the vulgar mass 
 
 Called ^^work'' must sentence pass, 
 
 Things done, that took the eye and had the price ; 
 
 O'er which, from level stand, 
 
 The low world laid its hand. 
 
 Found straightway to its mind, could value in a trice : 
 
 [174] 
 
HUMILITY 
 
 But aU the world's coarse thumb 
 And finger failed to plumb, 
 So passed in making up the main account j 
 All instincts immature, 
 All purposes unsure, 
 
 That weighed not as his work, yet swelled the man's 
 amount : 
 
 Thoughts hardly to be packed 
 
 Into a narrow act. 
 
 Fancies that broke through language and escaped ; 
 
 All I could never be, 
 
 All men ignored in me. 
 
 This I was worth to God, whose wheel the pitcher 
 
 shaped. 
 Rabbi Ben Ezra. Robert Browning. 
 
 Nature, they say, doth dote, 
 
 And cannot make a man 
 
 Save on some worn-out plan, 
 
 Repeating us by rote : 
 For him her Old World moulds aside she threw, 
 
 And, choosing sweet clay from the breast 
 
 Of the unexhausted West, 
 With stuff untainted shaped a hero new, 
 Wise, steadfast in the strength of God, and true. 
 
 How beautiful to see 
 Once more a shepherd of mankind indeed. 
 Who loved his charge, but never loved to lead ; 
 One whose meek flock the people joyed to be. 
 
 Not lured by any cheat of birth. 
 
 But by his clear- grained human worth. 
 And brave old wisdom of sincerity ! 
 
 Great captains, with their guns and drums, 
 Disturb our judgment for the hour. 
 But at last silence comes ; 
 
 [175] 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
 These all are gone, and, standing like a tower, 
 Our children shall behold his fame, 
 The kindly-earnest, brave, foreseeing man. 
 Sagacious, patient, dreading praise, not blame, 
 'New birth of our new soil, the first American. 
 Commemoration Ode James Russell Lowell. 
 
 Why crown whom Zeus has crowned in soul before ? 
 Balavstion's Adventure. Robert Browning. 
 
 Have I knowledge? confounded it shrivels at Wis- 
 dom laid bare. 
 
 Have I forethought? how purblind, how blank, to 
 the infinite Care ! 
 
 Do I task any faculty highest, to image success I 
 
 I but open my eyes, — and perfection, no more and no 
 less, 
 
 In the kind I imagined, full-fronts me, and God is 
 seen God, 
 
 In the star, in the stone, in the flesh, in the soul and 
 the clod. 
 
 And thus looking within and around me, I ever re- 
 new 
 
 (With that stoop of the soul which in bending up- 
 raises it too) 
 
 The submission of man's nothing-perfect to God's all- 
 complete. 
 
 As by each new obeisance in spirit, I climb to his 
 
 feet. 
 
 Saul. Robert Browning. 
 
 [176] 
 
XX. 
 
 fulfilment 
 
 One God, one law, one element, 
 And one far-off divine event. 
 To which the whole creation moves. 
 In Memoriam. Alfred Tennyson. 
 
FULFILMENT. 
 
 HYMN. 
 
 O prophet soul of all the years, 
 
 Bend o'er us from above j 
 Your far-off vision, toils, and tears 
 
 Now to fulfilment move ! 
 
 From tropic clime and zones of frost 
 
 They come, of every name. 
 This, this our day of Pentecost, 
 
 The Spirit's tongue of flame ! 
 
 The ancient barriers disappear : 
 Down bow the mountains high; 
 
 The sea- divided shores draw near 
 In a world's unity. 
 
 One life together we confess. 
 
 One all-indwelling word, 
 One holy call to righteousness 
 
 Within the silence heard. 
 
 One law that guides the shining spheres 
 
 As on through space they roll, 
 And speaks in flaming characters 
 
 On Sinais of the soul : 
 
 One love, unfathomed, measureless, 
 
 An ever-flowing sea, 
 That holds, within its vast embrace. 
 Time and eternity. 
 
 Frederick Lucian Hosmbb. 
 [179] 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
 We who have rolled the sphere beneath our feet 
 
 To find a virgin forest, as we lay 
 
 The beams of our rude temple, first of all 
 
 Must frame its doorway high enough for man 
 
 To pass unstooping ; knowing as we do 
 
 That he who shaped us last of living forms 
 
 Has long enough been served by creeping things. 
 
 This is the new world^s gospel : Be ye men. 
 Wind-clouds and Star-drifts. Oliver Wendell Holmes. 
 
 HYMI^. 
 
 One 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 5 
 
 Love, her communion- cup. 
 
 The truth is her prophetic gifb, 
 
 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, 
 Eedeem the evil time ! 
 
 Samuel Longfellow (1819-1892). 
 [180] 
 
FULFILMENT 
 
 I dream' d 
 That stone by stone I rear' d a sacred fane, 
 A temple, neither Pagod, Mosque, nor Church, 
 But loftier, simpler, always open-door' d 
 To every breath from heaven, and Truth and Peace 
 And Love and Justice came and dwelt therein. 
 Akhar's Dream. AiiFBED Tennyson. 
 
 O glad, exulting, culminating song ! 
 A vigor more than earth's is in thy notes, 
 Marches of victory — man disenthralled — the con- 
 queror at last, 
 Hymns to the universal God from universal man — all 
 
 joy! 
 
 The Mystic Trumpeter. Walt Whitman. 
 
 Hail to the coming singers ! 
 Hail to the brave light- bringers ! 
 Forward I reach and share 
 All that they sing and dare. 
 
 The airs of heaven blow o'er me ; 
 A glory shines before me 
 Of what mankind shall be, — 
 Pure, generous, brave, and free. 
 
 A dream of man and woman 
 Diviner but still human, 
 Solving the riddle old, 
 Shaping the Age of Gold ! 
 
 The love of God and neighbor ; 
 An equal-handed labor j 
 The richer life, where beauty 
 Walks hand in hand with duty. 
 
 Eing, bells in unreared steeples. 
 The joy of unborn peoples ! 
 Sound, trumpets far-off blown, 
 Your triumph is my own ! 
 
 [181] 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
 Parcel and part of all, 
 I keep the festival, 
 Fore-reach the good to be, 
 And share the victory. 
 
 I feel the earth move sunward, 
 I join the great march onward, 
 And take, by faith, while living, 
 My freehold of thanksgiving. 
 My Triumph. John Gbssnlbaf Whittibe. 
 
 HYMN. 
 
 Life of ages, richly poured, 
 Love of God, unspent and free. 
 Flowing in the prophet's word 
 And the people's liberty, — 
 
 I^ever was to chosen race 
 That unstinted tide confined j 
 Thine is every time and place, 
 Fountain sweet of heart and mind, 
 
 • •••••• 
 
 Breathing in the thinker's creed. 
 Pulsing in the hero's blood, 
 INerving simplest thought and deed. 
 Freshening time with truth and good, 
 
 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 ! 
 
 Samuel Johnson (1822-1882). 
 [182] 
 
FULFILMENT 
 
 A JAE OF EOSE-LEAVES. 
 
 Myriad roses fade unheeded, 
 Yet no note of grief is needed j 
 When the ruder breezes tear them, 
 Sung or songless, we can spare them. 
 But the choicest petals are 
 Shrined in some deep Orient jar, 
 Eich without and sweet within, 
 "Where we cast the rose-leaves in. 
 
 Life has jars of costlier price 
 Framed to hold our memories. 
 There we treasure baby smiles. 
 Boyish exploits, girlish wiles. 
 All that made our early days 
 Sweeter than these trodden ways 
 Where the Fates our fortunes spin. 
 Memory, toss the rose-leaves in ! 
 
 What the jar holds, that shall stay ; 
 Time steals all the rest away. 
 Cast in love's first stolen word, 
 Bliss when uttered, bliss when heard j 
 Maiden's looks of shy surprise ; 
 Glances from a hero's eyes ,• 
 Palms we risked our souls to win : 
 Memory, fling the rose-leaves in ! 
 
 Now more sombre and more slow 
 Let the incantation grow ! 
 Cast in shreds of rapture brief. 
 Subtle links 'twixt hope and grief ; 
 Vagrant fancy's dangerous toys ; 
 Covert dreams, narcotic joys 
 Flavored with the taste of sin : 
 Memory, pour the rose-leaves in ! 
 
 Quit that borderland of pain ! 
 Cast in thoughts of nobler vein, 
 
 [183] 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
 Magic gifts of human breath, 
 
 Mysteries of birth and death. 
 
 What if all this web of change 
 
 But prepare for scenes more strange ; 
 
 If to die be to begin ? 
 
 Memory, heap the rose-leaves in ! 
 
 Thomas Wbntwokth Higginson. 
 
 PEOTECTIKG SHADOWS. 
 
 I sit beneath the elm's protecting shadow, 
 
 Whose graceful form 
 
 Shelters from sunshine warm ; 
 While far around me, in the heated meadow. 
 
 The busy insects swarm. 
 Better than any roof these softly swaying leaves, 
 Opening and closing to the passing air, 
 Which from afar the fragrant breath receives 
 
 Of forest odors rare. 
 
 And as the branches sway, 
 Eevealing depths on depths of heavenly blue, 
 The tempered rays of sunshine, glancing through 
 In flickering spots of light, around me play ; 
 While little birds dart through the mazy web, 
 
 With happy chirp and song. 
 
 Fearing no wrong, 
 To their half-hidden nests above my head. 
 Thus, without motion, without speech or sound, 
 I rest, — a part of all this life around. 
 
 Beneath the shadow of the great Protection 
 
 The soul sits, hushed and calm. 
 Bathed in the peace of that divine affection, 
 Ko fever-heats of life or dull dejection 
 
 Can work the spirit harm. 
 
 Diviner heavens above 
 
 Look down on it in love. 
 
 [ 184 ] 
 
FULFIL MEIsTT 
 
 And, as the varying winds move where they will, 
 In whispers soft, through trackless fields of air. 
 So comes the Spirit's breath, serene and still. 
 Its tender messages of love to bear 
 From men of every race and speech and zone. 
 
 Making the whole world one, 
 Till every sword shall to a sickle bend, 
 And the long, weary strifes of earth shall end. 
 
 Be happy, then, my heart. 
 
 That thou in all hast part, — 
 In all these outward gifts of time and sense, 
 In all the spirit's nobler influence. 
 
 In sun and snow and storm. 
 In the vast life which flows through sea and sky, 
 Through every changing form 
 Whose beauty soon must die •, 
 In the things seen, which ever pass away ; 
 In things unseen, which shall forever stay j 
 
 In the eternal Love 
 
 That lifts the soul above 
 All earthly passion, grief, remorse, and care 
 
 Which lower life must bear. 
 
 Be happy now and ever. 
 Since from the Love divine no power the soul shall 
 sever. 
 
 For not our feeble nor our stormy past, 
 
 'Not shadows from the future backward cast j 
 Not all the gulfs of evil far below, 
 Nor mountain peaks of good which soar on high 
 
 Into the unstained sky, 
 Nor any power the universe can know ; 
 Not the vast laws to whose control is given 
 The blades of grass just springing from the sod. 
 And stars within the unsounded depths of heaven, — 
 Can touch the spirit hid with Christ in God. 
 For naught that he has made, below, above. 
 
 Can part us from his love. 
 
 James Freeman Clarke. 
 
 [185] 
 
APPLES OF GOLD 
 
 THIS DAY. 
 
 The Lord of hosts stretched forth his arm, 
 And led his hosts from sea to sea ; 
 In war, in peace, in storm, or calm, 
 The land was theirs ; if they were free, 
 His free-born children they must be. 
 
 All nations called to him for bread, 
 From island and from continent. 
 *^Give it to-day, O God ! '' they said j 
 From every land this cry was sent 5 
 And, lo ! from east to west his people went, 
 The stewards of his love to be. 
 
 '^Give us our homes,' ^ his people said, 
 ^^In every land, by every sea, 
 Where we can plant this daily bread 
 Wherewith the nations shall be fed.'' 
 ^'Feed all my flock," their Father said, 
 '^ Offer this sacrifice to me, 
 I am the God who made you free. ' ' 
 
 ^^How long, O Lord ! " his people cried : 
 ' ' So many lands beneath thy sun, 
 Which mountains part or seas divide ! 
 Lord ! hear our prayer, and make them one." 
 
 And he : 
 '^One world, one home, one family, 
 One blood on every land or sea. 
 One household of my own shall be : 
 For this I make my children free." 
 
 Edward Everett Hale. 
 
 [186] 
 
, . . l^antJ must aim 
 3lt plurfting fiolU fruit from tlje applcli kaijes 
 
 Robert Browning 
 
3 
 
OCT 20 1903