r^e Iqvalid Singer 
 
Minnie D. Bateham. 
 
THE INVALID SINGER 
 
 LIFE AND WRITINGS 
 
 OF 
 
 V 
 
 MINNIE D. BATEHAM 
 
 EDITED 
 
 BY HER MOTHER 
 
 MRS. J. C. BATEHAM 
 
 ® 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 JAMES H. EARLE, Publisher 
 
 i 78 Washington Street 
 
 1895 
 
8EC0ND COPY. 
 
 
 51326 
 
 Copyright, 1894. 
 
 BY JAMES H. EARLE. 
 
 All rights reserved. 
 
 WOCOPitSfitCtjyffc 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Introduction 
 
 PART I.— THE SINGER. 
 
 I. Parentage and Childhood . . 9 
 
 II. Ministry of Suffering .... 17 
 
 III. Convalescence and Flames . . 24 
 
 IV. Writing Under Difficulties . . 26 
 V. Sister Louise 30 
 
 VI. Training for Service . . . . 33 
 
 VII. Prayer Cure and the Crusade. 37 
 
 VIII. Letters 42 
 
 IX. Her Later Years 49 
 
 X. The Transition 57 
 
 PART II.— SONGS. 
 
 Praise Waiteth for Thee 71 
 
 Crumbs 73 
 
 Flower Lessons 76 
 
 The Message -77 
 
 Baby Brother 79 
 
 Birdie 80 
 
 The Twin Oaks " ... 82 
 
 The Legend of Innisfallen .... 85* 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 The Life Building 89 
 
 Undertones 90 
 
 A Foretaste 92 
 
 Temperance Marseillaise 93 
 
 Our Star-spangled Banner 95 
 
 Where Violets Grow 97 
 
 Children's Snow-fancies 98 
 
 Beheaded Rhymes 100 
 
 Take Hold of My Hand 102 
 
 How It Comes 102 
 
 The New Year's Gifts 105 
 
 Golden-wedding Greeting 107 
 
 Lifted Up .108 
 
 Jesus, Our Strength no 
 
 The Soul's Supremacy in 
 
 A June Blossom 112 
 
 Beyond JI 4 
 
 A Christmas Carol 116 
 
 On A Silver Clock 117 
 
 The Soldiers' Graves .118 
 
 Sabbath Evening 119 
 
 The Grace of Receiving 120 
 
 His Dwelling-place 121 
 
 Going to Rome 122 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 O 
 
 NE of the sweetest songsters of the morn- 
 
 ing, Minnie D. Bateham, was promoted 
 to the heavenly choir, October 30, 1885. 
 
 Cradled in the sunshine of a happy home, 
 and the centre of many loving hearts, she folded 
 her wings under the touch of the angel of suf- 
 fering when but twelve years old, and for weary 
 months and years bore such intense pain that 
 it was a marvel the frail body endured. 
 
 These bright carols were, many of them, 
 written under this stress, and show the marvel- 
 lous triumph of the soul over the body. 
 
 Never again was Minnie to be wholly free 
 from her chains, yet she became a fine student 
 and an earnest worker for Christ, as well as a 
 true poet of the heart, and her great luminous 
 eyes and bright face always bore a message of 
 faith and love, till in early womanhood the cage 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 was opened, and the freed spirit entered the 
 larger life for which it had been in training. 
 
 From that day it has been the cherished 
 design of her mother to share with others the 
 rich legacy of so brave and fruitful a life, yet 
 ten years' absorption in the arduous work given 
 her by the National Women's Christian Tem- 
 perance Union has heretofore left no room for 
 this work of love. 
 
 Minnie was not an angel, as will be seen; 
 she was very human, but she was a temple of 
 the Holy Spirit, and to-day we re-light her taper 
 and set it on a candlestick, believing its steady 
 light will be stimulating to many young people, 
 and to the Christian Endeavorers, to whom 
 the book is dedicated by the author. 
 
 MRS. J. C. BATEHAM. 
 
 Williamsburg, Ky., 1894. 
 
® ® ® 
 
 s> part first. ® ® ® 
 
 The 5inqer. 
 
 u And shall not God's dear children 
 Well know, that life's best gain 
 Must be wrought out through weary days 
 Of patient grief and pain ? " 
 
THE INVALID SINGER 
 
 M 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 PARENTAGE AND CHILDHOOD. 
 
 R. B. BATEHAM, Minnie's father, was 
 born in Kent County, England, where his 
 father was an uncompromising Methodist and 
 a sturdy leader of that denomination in Maid- 
 stone, when it involved persecution for prin- 
 ciple. The family early removed to Rochester, 
 N. Y., where her father received his education 
 and went into business, removing later to 
 Columbus, Ohio. He was an eminent horti- 
 culturist and writer, known and honored every- 
 where. 
 
 Josephine Penfield, Minnie's mother, traces her 
 genealogy back through a New England ancestry 
 two hundred and fifty years. She was brought 
 up, and educated at Oberlin, Ohio. After a 
 
io THE INVALID SINGER, 
 
 year of post-graduate study she married Rev. R. 
 Cushman of South Attleboro, Mass., and went 
 as missionary to St. Marc, Hayti, where they 
 established a school. 
 
 She passe'd through many thrilling experi- 
 ences, lost her husband, conducted the funeral 
 services in a foreign tongue — the only white 
 woman within ninety miles — then, unable to 
 carry on the mission single-handed, returned a 
 widow to her parents' home before she was 
 twenty years of age. 
 
 She subsequently married Mr. Bateham, and 
 for fourteen years they resided in Columbus, 
 Ohio, and jointly edited the Ohio Cultivator, 
 removing later to Painesville, Ohio. 
 
 Of the seven children that constituted their 
 family group, little Minnie was the oldest 
 daughter, and was born at Columbus, March 
 14, 1856. She was named Minerva Dayton, 
 for her honored grandmother Cowles, though, 
 according to the usage of the times, she was al- 
 ways known to her friends as Minnie Bateham. 
 
 With a strong constitution and good health, 
 she passed a sunny, happy childhood, bright- 
 ened by a strong imagination, which sometimes 
 made it difficult for her to distinguish between 
 
PARENTAGE AND CHILDHOOD. II 
 
 fact and fancy, as, when cradled in her mother's 
 arms, she said " pretty angels had played with 
 her on the lawn and she wanted to go away 
 with them, but they wouldn't let her." Her 
 thoughts were even then often spontaneously 
 expressed in rhyme. When but four years old 
 she carried a picture of an organ-grinder to her 
 brother and explained, " There's the man that's 
 got the music, and the monkey sitting down, 
 and the plate where they've been eating, and 
 the people all around." 
 
 Two or three years later it was so much her 
 habit to tell stories to other children or her 
 dolls, in rhyme, that her mother gathered quite 
 a collection, which she jotted down without the 
 child's knowledge. Sometimes it was a romance ; 
 sometimes she told of her home, where 
 
 "You can see the pretty flowers, 
 
 And can watch the April showers. 
 
 The pears and peaches are ripening too, 
 
 And the gay old cock says cock-a-doodle-doo." 
 
 Sometimes there were pretty conceits, as in 
 the last verse of " Beautiful Snow," written with- 
 out help when eight years old : 
 
12 THE INVALID SINGER. 
 
 " Beautiful snow, so pretty at night, 
 
 Making everything look so light ; 
 How softly they float on the evening air, 
 
 Those beautiful snow-flakes, pure and fair." 
 
 # # # # 
 
 "How bright is the snow where the sun strikes 
 
 the hill, 
 But the angels' garments are whiter still, 
 And the angels themselves are purer far 
 Than even these delicate snowflakes are/' 
 
 Consecrated to God by her mother from the 
 first consciousness of motherhood, set apart for 
 Him in her infancy, and surrounded always 
 with helpful influences, the loving presence of 
 Jesus seemed as real to Minnie as that of her 
 parents, and she said in later life, "It seems to 
 me I have always loved the Savior;" yet in her 
 ninth ^year, during meetings held by Mr. Ham- 
 mond, the Child's Evangelist, her religion took 
 on a more decided type. On her ninth birth- 
 day she wrote: 
 
 "To-day is my birthday., and I am so glad! 
 'Tis the happiest day J gyer Jiaye had. 
 
PARENTAGE AND CHILDHOOD. 13 
 
 The soft winds are blowing, the robins have 
 
 come; 
 They must know it's my birthday, so sweet is 
 
 their song. 
 
 -7? TT T? T<? 
 
 "Mr. Hammond has been here and talked so 
 
 with me, 
 A good Christian girl I am sure I shall be. 
 To Jesus I've given my heart 'just now,' 
 And will love him and please him the best I 
 
 know how.'' 
 
 Later, she recorded this 
 
 "MORNING PRAYER. 
 
 " Blessed Jesus, hear me pray: 
 Help me to be good to-day ; 
 Help me to temptations meet, 
 In the house and on the street; 
 Without yielding to them ever, 
 Help me, Christ, in my endeavor! 
 
 "Help me when I go to school, 
 There to keep the golden rule; 
 Make me kind to baby brother, 
 And obedient to my mother ; 
 
14 THE INVALID SINGER, 
 
 All my many sins forgive, 
 And live with me while I live." 
 
 The Sabbath was the red-letter day for 
 Minnie and all the children, who never counted 
 it a weariness to sit through the church ser- 
 vice; in fact, while it was made attractive, 
 they were never consulted about attendance, 
 their parents preferring that habit should lead 
 them with its strong chain to, instead of from, 
 the house of God. The Sabbath school, family 
 worship and home song-service were always 
 enjoyed, and especially the visit with mother, 
 which was the great treat of the week, when 
 singing, stories, prayer, in which each took a 
 turn, and mutual confidences about the right 
 and wrong doing of the week were delightfully 
 mingled, and new motto verses given — the 
 whole ending with something good to eat. 
 
 Minnie was not precocious in her studies, 
 preferring out-door play, yet always acquitted 
 herself well, especially in composition. At 
 home French was sometimes the only language 
 mother would use with the children, and they 
 became proficient enough to astonish their 
 schoolmates. This stimulated Minnie, who 
 
PARENTAGE AND CHILDHOOD. 15 
 
 announced that they were learning another lan- 
 guage, and she did in fact invent something 
 which she called the Tutten language, having 
 a simple system which she taught the others, 
 and they delighted in mystifying mother with 
 their conversation which she could not under- 
 stand, till they turned the tables and became 
 teacher. 
 
 A little cousin of Minnie's, a child of foreign 
 missionaries, having been sent to grandmother 
 Cowles for education, Minnie went for a few 
 months, when twelve years old, to be her com- 
 panion, and attended school at Oberlin, making 
 some permanent friends by her sweet ways and 
 quaint speeches. 
 
 We extract from one of her school composi- 
 tions this account of an early episode in her 
 life : 
 
 "HOW I WAS SHUT UP IN JAIL. 
 
 "When I was very small and living at Colum- 
 bus, I visited my grandmother at Oberlin. 
 
 "Finally father wrote to have me sent to 
 Cleveland to meet him, so they sent me by Mrs. 
 Fitch, who was going to see her husband, who 
 was there in jail. He was not in prison for 
 
1 6 THE INVALID SINGER. 
 
 doing wrong, but because he was suspected of 
 having helped a poor slave to escape from his 
 master. Father did not get grandma's letter 
 and could not find us nor we him; so Mrs. 
 Fitch took me to jail with her, and after a 
 few days Uncle John came and took me back 
 to Oberlin. 
 
 " Meanwhile, I was staying in jail. One of 
 my old teachers from Columbus and some other 
 good men were in jail for the same reason, and 
 though everything was very strange, I enjoyed 
 myself pretty well." 
 
THE MINISTRY OF SUFFERING. 17 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE MINISTRY OF SUFFERING. 
 
 IMMEDIATELY after her return from Ober- 
 lin occurred the circumstances which re- 
 sulted in Minnie's long martyrdom of suffering. 
 She went as visitor to the school her younger 
 sister attended, and in preparation for the 
 closing exercises they were detained to a late 
 hour, and a cold rain setting in, both were wet 
 and chilled through before reaching home. 
 Vigorous means were used to prevent evil 
 results, but in Minnie's case unsuccessfully, as 
 she seemed to have rheumatism ; and in just a 
 week from the wetting, when she sprang from 
 her bed in the morning, she dropped on the 
 floor and could not rise. Her father heard her 
 call, and bore her to her mother's room and 
 laid her down, there to remain for years. 
 
 What seemed a violent attack of inflamma- 
 tory rheumatism proved to be necrosis, an 
 inflammation of the membrane covering the 
 
1 8 THE INVALID SINGER. 
 
 bone, in nature similar to a felon, but on a 
 large scale. The disease gradually spread till 
 it involved the whole bone system ; literally 
 scores of abscesses from time to time, and 
 sometimes six or eight at once, being employed 
 in throwing out the dead bone, sometimes in 
 large pieces, from every part of the body except 
 the right arm. 
 
 Severe surgical operations were repeatedly 
 resorted to in the vain hope of arresting the 
 disease, and so intense was the suffering that 
 for weary weeks and months the most powerful 
 anodynes were constantly administered by 
 turns, though scarcely lessening the pain, and 
 the wings of the death-angel seemed always 
 hovering near. During all this time she was 
 not only a helpless sufferer, but usually motion- 
 less on her special hospital cot, the slightest 
 change of position causing extreme agony. As 
 no other hands could touch her so gently, 
 mother was the constant nurse, and father 
 soothed the intense nervous suffering by hours 
 of gentle rubbing. 
 
 I cull from letters written that year : " Min- 
 nie prays a great deal both when sane and 
 delirious, and asks to have the Bible read. 
 
THE MINISTRY OF SUFFERING. 19 
 
 Her mind often wanders, but as soon as it is 
 clear she asks for it again. ' Do you think I 
 am patient? 1 she asked to-day. 'You don't 
 know how hard I try to be, or how hard it is.' 
 At other times, 'Oh, I'm not as good as I ought 
 to be! oh, I'm not! I'm not! How could I 
 live without prayer!' At another time she said, 
 'Why doesn't God hear prayer for met every- 
 body prays for me and still I grow worse all 
 the time. And what troubles me most is that 
 Jesus never seems near, helping me to bear 
 it; why doesn't He? I pray for it and am will- 
 ing His will should be done, and I know He 
 loves me; but I don't seem to love Him. I cry 
 over it and pray about it, and it does no good. 
 Ask grandpa to pray that I may love Jesus 
 more, and feel His presence.' ' O, dear Jesus, 
 please let me die,' is on her lips many and 
 many a time. ' There'll be no pain there — no 
 pain; oh, take me home.' And again, 'I can't 
 express the longing I have to go and leave this 
 poor body, and be with Jesus.' " 
 
 She sometimes realized that her frequent 
 spiritual depression was the natural result of 
 physical causes, and that Jesus' face was just 
 as smiling, even when a cloud obscured her 
 
20 THE INVALID SINGER. 
 
 vision. Receiving a basket of rosebuds and 
 pansies, she found among them this verse, 
 which she adopted as her motto : 
 
 " Under the shadow of thy wings will I make 
 my refuge till these calamities be overpast." 
 
 She had no shrinking from death itself, and 
 wrote : 
 
 "DEATH'S GATEWAY. 
 
 " Christians should not fear to die, 
 
 Not at all. 
 Turning from our friends and mates, 
 Entering the pearly gates, 
 Where our loved Redeemer waits ; 
 
 That is all. 
 
 "Though we suffer here, we know 
 
 He's our Friend ; 
 Our dear Savior, kind and true, 
 He will help and bear us through, 
 Till Mount Zion comes in view 
 
 At the end. 
 
 "Glad we'll leave our troubled life 
 Here below. 
 
THE MINISTRY OF SUFFERING. 2 1 
 
 For in heaven we ne'er shall sin ; 
 Perfect happiness we'll win ; 
 Naught impure can enter in, 
 That we know." 
 
 As time passed on she had longer intervals 
 of rest from pain, and these became still longer, 
 until the prospect changed from that of a 
 speedy journey to the palace of the King, 
 which she so greatly coveted, to one of life-long 
 invalidism and suffering ; yet her sweet spirit 
 never really murmured. Once, during long and 
 weary pain, she cried out, " Oh, why should / 
 have to suffer all this ; /, who dread pain 
 worse, and suffer more with it, than almost any 
 person living. I cannot bear it ! " quickly 
 adding, " Oh, I don't know what I am saying ; 
 I suffer so." Usually she had no expression 
 but of the resignation so sweetly voiced in 
 verses written about this time. 
 
 "SHUT IN. 
 
 "How well I loved in early spring 
 To roam the meadows through, 
 
 To hear the wild birds sweetly sing, 
 And hunt the violets blue. 
 
2 2 THE INVALID SINGER. 
 
 "Now I lie quiet on my bed, 
 
 And cannot even move ; 
 But then the others tell me all, 
 
 And bring the flowers I love. 
 
 "And I can from the windows look, 
 
 And breathe the balmy air, 
 And soon, I'll hope, be wheeled around 
 
 Reclining in my chair. 
 
 "This is the second spring that here 
 
 In helplessness I've lain; 
 And possibly I ne'er shall be 
 
 Able to walk again. 
 
 "But when all nature's putting on, 
 Of green leaves, all her wealth, 
 
 I hope that He who made the Spring 
 Will raise me up to health. 
 
 "But still I say, 'Thy will be done,' 
 
 And surely feel that He 
 Who cares for every tender flower 
 
 Knows what is best for me." 
 
 At family worship on Thanksgiving Day, 
 November, 187 1, each child as well as the pa- 
 rents presented on a slip of paper the thing he 
 
 
THE MINISTRY OF SUFFERING. 23 
 
 was most thankful for; from "a pair of new 
 boots" to "the love of Jesus." Minnie's con- 
 tribution read : " I am thankful for our un- 
 broken family circle. Longfellow says: 'There 
 is no flock, however watched and tended, but 
 one dead lamb is there ; ' and it is certainly 
 rare to find so large a family as ours from 
 which not one has been taken. Truly the 
 Lord has been very good to us. Let us try to 
 make our family circle like a sweet harp ; pro- 
 ducing only sounds of harmony and love, with 
 no discords to mar the music of our daily life; 
 for ere we meet for next year's Thanksgiving, 
 one loved face may be missing, and one harp- 
 string broken, so that our harp may no more 
 produce perfect melody. 
 
 " Children, ere the dread destroyer 
 Sets his seal on lip and brow, 
 
 Let us love, and let us show it, 
 Show it always, show it now." 
 
24 THE INVALID SINGER. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 CONVALESCENCE AND FLAMES. 
 
 AFTER seventeen months, Minnie was so 
 far recovered as to be lifted into an invalid 
 chair, still flat on her back, and was wheeled 
 gently out among the flowers she loved. "It 
 was so beautiful,'' she wrote, "to see the blue 
 sky and be under the green trees; it was almost 
 like being well." Games, knitting and embroid- 
 ery, as well as pen and books served to divert 
 her thoughts, and her needle helped in prepar- 
 ation for the festival of her loved Mission Band, 
 and her verses greeted her returning pastor. 
 
 In December, 1870, she wrote: "My two 
 sisters and I, with fifteen others, are to join the 
 church next Sabbath, and my pastor and two 
 deacons will administer the sacrament to me 
 afterward. We are hoping for a great revival 
 this winter." 
 
 Early the next spring, after long suffering, 
 and only one week after a most trying surgical 
 operation, her mother was persuaded to take a 
 
CONVALESCENCE AND FLAMES. 25 
 
 ride in the fresh air, leaving Minnie with her 
 father. In her absence the house took fire and 
 was speedily burned to the ground, the last 
 wing falling in just as the mother drove up. 
 Kind neighbors had done what they could, and 
 Minnie had been lifted out on her mattress and 
 laid on the lawn. It had been a narrow escape 
 for life, as the roof fell in while they were cross- 
 ing the threshold and the room was instantly 
 filled with fire and debris. Before help arrived, 
 Minnie had been left alone while her father 
 tried to put out the fire. On being asked if she 
 was not afraid to be alone so long, while she 
 heard the flames crackling on every side, she 
 said: " Not much; I kept still and prayed all the 
 time, and I knew father would not let me burn, 
 for he promised to take me out as soon as 
 others came to help." 
 
 With the aid of the same kind friends the 
 family were comfortably located elsewhere be- 
 fore nightfall, and Minnie bore the removal and 
 changes without permanent injury, and joined 
 the family thanksgiving for spared lives and 
 loving friends. "Our Twin Oaks" — whose 
 tragic death is portrayed on page 82 — is a 
 memorial of this fire. 
 
26 THE INVALID SINGER. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 WRITING UNDER DIFFICULTIES. 
 
 TO enlarge and sweeten the child's shut-in 
 life, her mother usually spent a part of 
 each day reading aloud from the best poets and 
 prose writers, and in her comfortable hours 
 Minnie pursued her own studies, wrote letters 
 and competed, usually with success, for prizes 
 offered by different periodicals for the literary 
 productions of children. And this, too, under 
 almost insurmountable difficulties, as for more 
 than thirty slow months she lay mostly in one 
 position, having at the best the free use only 
 of her head and right arm and the fingers of 
 the left hand. But with a low desk resting on 
 the bed, she became quite independent. 
 
 In a letter to a friend she writes: "I am four- 
 teen now, and have not left my bed for more 
 than two years, and write lying flat on my back; 
 but I can usually read and write and study, and 
 my friends are very kind, and I teach my little 
 
WRITING UNDER DIFFICULTIES. 27 
 
 brother; so on the whole I guess I enjoy life as 
 well as most people do, if I cannot walk or 
 even sit up." 
 
 "My Flowers," "Snow Fancies," "Take Hold 
 of my Hand," and many others were written 
 about this time. 
 
 After the terrible Chicago lire of 187 1, she 
 wrote to an editor friend. "Dear Editor: — I 
 write to tell you of our deep sympathy in your 
 losses. We are glad your paper, recovering 
 from its burning fever, will soon be able to visit 
 us again. I wish I could do something for you, 
 and, not having drawn my prize money yet, I 
 ask you to accept the draft which I now return. 
 We know how to sympathize with you, having 
 been ourselves burned out last winter. May 
 God bless and prosper you ! — Your friend, 
 
 "Minnie D. Bateham." 
 
 Here is a specimen of her ingenious amuse- 
 ment, each stanza containing every letter of 
 the alphabet: 
 
 "THE QUESTION. 
 "My Lizzie expected to visit big Jake, 
 And feared she must answer the question at 
 stake, 
 
28 THE INVALID SINGER. 
 
 "Which was whether Mabel in earnest did say 
 Frit'z views were quixotic, or only in play. 
 
 u As Mabel was joking, Fritz quickly excused, 
 And verily hoped they'd be friends as they used." 
 
 A more elaborate specimen, using only the 
 vowel I, won a prize from Little Corporal Maga- 
 zine for the best and longest story using but 
 one vowel throughout. Minnie's used over 1200 
 I's, and its style may be gathered from the first 
 sentence: "Miss Higgins's First Xig/it in Missis- 
 sippi. Sir Philip Irving's third child, Phil, lik- 
 ing driving in mild spring nights, is riding with 
 Miss Lil Higgins (Miss Higgins is visiting Sir 
 Philip Irving) in his gig, in this diminishing 
 light, drinking in inspiring sights in this wild 
 district in Mississippi." 
 
 She delighted in anagrams, making at one 
 time 800 English words from the title " Prince 
 Alexis." 
 
 In a letter of thanks for a beautiful engrav- 
 ing, Minnie wrote of her pretty room and its 
 many pictures, adding: " The most beautiful of 
 all to me is the Wreathed Cross, because of its 
 hopeful and comforting suggestions. I think 
 it shows how our crosses, painful and wearing 
 
WRITING UNDER DIFFICULTIES. 29 
 
 as they may be, can be changed into things of 
 beauty and even joy, if they are wreathed about 
 with the flowers of faith and trust and love. 
 With pictures and flowers one may almost for- 
 get the outside world. All last winter our south 
 windows were bright with blossoms and the air 
 was filled with their fragrance, while high over 
 all, the beautiful ivies went climbing, climbing 
 up and around the pictures, wreathing the 
 whole with beauty. Do you think this a small 
 pleasure to an invalid to have such a bower of 
 beauty continually before the eyes? No; thank 
 God for pictures and flowers." 
 
 All the children wrote occasional notes to 
 mother, and one of Minnie's this year reads: 
 "Dear, dear mother, do you really think I am 
 growing more like Jesus? As I look back from 
 day to day I can see no improvement, and I 
 know I do many wrong things; sometimes I am 
 almost discouraged. I do want and try to be 
 better, but the upward path is straight and nar- 
 row, and I often stumble and fall. Good-bye, 
 dear mother; you have your trials and I have 
 mine; let us pray for each other. Pray that I 
 may grow in grace and in the knowledge of 
 our Lord and Saviour. 
 
 "Your loving daughter, "Minnie." 
 
30 THE INVALID SINGER. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 SISTER LOUISE. 
 
 ONE of the greatest shocks of her life came 
 to Minnie in 1872, in the death of her 
 sister, Louise Lovell, twelve and a half years 
 old, to whom "A June Blossom" — page 112 — is 
 her beautiful tribute. Though diffident and 
 shy, Louise always won love by her gentle 
 voice, warm heart, and uniform self-forgetful 
 ministry to others. 
 
 She was well advanced in her studies, yet 
 spent so many happy hours out of doors under 
 her father's guidance, that just before her death 
 she took from Hearth and Home the highest 
 prize over several hundred competitors for the 
 largest list of correctly named native flowers 
 seen in bloom in May, 1872. The study and 
 work this involved, in addition to school duties, 
 was probably too severe a strain, and after 
 a week's illness she died of peritonitis. 
 
SISTER LOUISE. 31 
 
 She was a consistent Christian, and the 
 Testament, found in her school-dress pocket, 
 was marked all through with the passages she 
 loved, many of them about death and heaven ; 
 and when in her last illness her mother said to 
 her, "We think Jesus wants you up in heaven, 
 and will come for you very soon," she said, 
 " Do you mean that I am going to die ? " " Yes, 
 dear." "Oh, how good God is, how good He 
 is(" she answered. "Do you want to go?" 
 "Oh, yes; only think of it ! I shall see Him as 
 He is, see Him as He is. Oh, mamma dear, 
 how good God is !" 
 
 The world-old question, "Why," came to 
 Minnie, and she queried why one so strong 
 and one loving life was taken from those who 
 needed her, while she who longed to go must 
 still wait in helplessness for her summons? 
 Yet she fully trusted Jesus, and began from 
 this time to cherish the hope that, through her 
 own gift of writing, trained under the Master's 
 eye, she might be designed to bear a helpful 
 message to others. 
 
 All that summer Minnie was herself so great 
 a sufferer, her life was often despaired of, and 
 she wrote once : " I am in pain every minute, 
 
32 THE INVALID SINGER. 
 
 and it would be bliss to know I, too, should 
 not live a year." A touching little poem, en- 
 titled " Waiting," from her pen, expressed this 
 longing. 
 
TRAINING FOR SERVICE. 33 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 TRAINING FOR SERVICE. 
 
 MINNIE loved Paul's motto, <; I keep my 
 body under." The poem, "The Soul's 
 Supremacy," — page in — shows the resolution 
 with which she maintained her independence, 
 even now, when the citadel was threatened. 
 When again she rallied, and from that time on 
 through life, whenever the freedom from pain 
 permitted, she bent herself to the task of sys- 
 tematically training and educating her mind 
 by pursuing her high-school studies, taking the 
 Chautauqua course of study, and later by the 
 thorough study of Greek, which was a favorite 
 with her. 
 
 She loved study, yet with all her weakness 
 and pain she could never have held herself to 
 her work and made the thorough student she 
 did, with no help but such as her parents and 
 pastor and the Greek club could give, had she 
 not been enthused with love for the personal 
 
34 THE INVALID SINGER. 
 
 Jesus. For Him she wished to make the most 
 of every power He had given, that she might 
 use them for His glory and the good of those 
 for whom He had died. This consecration and 
 hope illumined every hour. She would work 
 out the Master's thought for her. She writes: 
 
 " O, thou great Architect, whose least designs 
 Grow to creations, plan my life for me ! 
 
 Sign with Thy Name of power the contract lines, 
 And but the humble laborer I will be, 
 
 Whose daily toil beneath a wise command 
 Works out the pattern in the Master's hand." 
 
 Present opportunities for service and the 
 training these afforded, were never lost sight 
 of. Her large, sunny room was the most 
 attractive family gathering room, and only 
 eternity can show the influence upon the others 
 of her brave patience, her ready sympathy and 
 helpfulness, and the contagious buoyancy of 
 her spirits. Even baby brother, of whom she 
 wrote page 79, if he hurt himself, would run to 
 Minnie to "kiss it well." For years she was 
 the children's teacher, and when her sisters 
 were at college, and brother teaching, or in 
 business, Minnie wrote most of the family let- 
 
TRAINING FOR SERVICE. 35 
 
 ters, and bright, cheery, newsy letters they 
 were. Her skillful needle was often in de- 
 mand, and she was as proud of her beautiful 
 darning as her embroidery or crochet. "Tem- 
 ple Sweepers, " one of her poems, illustrates 
 the governing impulse of her life. 
 
 When sixteen she was announced as regular 
 contributor to the Young Folk's Record, and 
 from this correspondence we make two ex- 
 tracts. In an article on "Four-footed Friends," 
 she says: "I hardly think we can grow up to 
 be good, true, noble men and women, such as 
 we all want to be, if we hate or are unkind to 
 any of God's dumb creatures." 
 
 Writing of the Family Improvement Society, 
 and its successful efforts to banish the slang 
 that had crept in unawares, she closes by say- 
 ing: "Mistakes in grammar or pronunciation 
 are now rare, and slang almost unknown. 
 Even little Charlie, four years old, often cor- 
 rects himself when he makes a mistake, with 
 perfect gravity, as if it were a matter of course. 
 On Friday comes our family sociable, when 
 father and mother always give an evening to 
 us children, and let almost nothing interfere with 
 it, and we look forward to it and prepare for 
 
3 6 THE INVALID SINGER. 
 
 it all the week. First, we have the Improve- 
 ment Society's report and prizes; then games of 
 all kinds, music and readings; and lastly, any 
 nice eatables we have in the house, such as 
 nuts, fruit, popcorn and candy. We wish all 
 children could have as happy times as we." 
 
rRAYER CURE AND THE CRUSADE. 37 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 PRAYER CURE AND THE CRUSADE. 
 
 FOR months in 1873 the loved teaching and 
 study were again dropped, and dreary pain 
 was her constant companion. Of this time 
 her mother wrote: "Whether Minnie will rally 
 again, as I am inclined to expect, or sink rapidly 
 we cannot tell; one thing is certain: for four 
 years she has not at any time suffered so 
 severely as the past few weeks. It is agony to 
 her and to us. She is so low and looks so 
 corpse-like, we often watch to see if she still 
 breathes, and a child's footfall hurts her. It 
 will seem like a resurrection if she is restored; 
 we long to be able to move her just a little." 
 When slowly rallying, friends besought her to 
 try "Prayer Cure," and many from far and 
 near joined Minnie and her parents in earnest 
 prayer for her complete recovery. Yet, while 
 believing and claiming God's ample promises 
 to importunate and faith-filled prayers, even for 
 
3 8 THE INVALID SINGER. 
 
 temporal things, they realized that the strong- 
 est faith, being coupled with human short-sight- 
 edness and ignorance, must still voluntarily 
 leave the results to be decided by infinite wis- 
 dom and love. 
 
 Minnie's own faith was strong and she gained 
 rapidly, and in September was so far recovered 
 as to stand on her feet, substitute crutches for 
 the wheel-chair with which she had for some 
 time moved about the rooms ; and also to take 
 her first ride on a buggy seat, instead of having 
 her chair lifted into the carriage. At this time 
 she wrote, " Mother says there are other ways 
 of prayer cure, besides being healed all in a 
 minute." 
 
 But in October she wrote: "I am much worse 
 again, and both back and head are threatened. 
 I thought I ought to tell you and all who are 
 helping us in the prayer cure, so that they may 
 join us in prayer that this may be averted. It 
 would seem discouraging, when I am getting 
 along so nicely, to go clear back again, but I 
 have strong faith that it will not happen, that 
 He is only trying our faith. But if it should be 
 best, surely I should not be the one to complain, 
 
PRAYER CURE AXD THE CRUSADE. 39 
 
 when He has been so good to me. I am very 
 happy and content. " 
 
 A few weeks of sharp suffering followed, and 
 then she became even better than before, and 
 the next year was able to throw aside her 
 crutches and walk without assistance. 
 
 In March, 1874, the Woman's Temperance 
 Crusade, with its wave of excitement sweeping 
 through Ohio, struck Painesville; and by the 
 earnest wish of husband, children and friends, 
 Minnie's mother yielded to an urgent call and 
 became its local leader, while Minnie sympa- 
 thized heartily at every step. Her buggy was 
 often on the outskirts of the crowd that always 
 attended the street meetings, and no one was 
 happier than she when, at the first surrender, she 
 saw the beer emptied into the gutter, and the 
 crowd struck up, "Praise God from whom all 
 blessings flow." From Minnie's regular reports 
 to Oberlin friends I make one extract. 
 
 "The work is getting spicy. Mr. B. still 
 refuses to let the ladies in, and they hold a side- 
 walk meeting, but they are well treated at all 
 the other places except by S. He proves to be 
 the Van Pelt of Painesville. Time before last 
 
40 THE INVALID SINGER. 
 
 when they visited him, he urged them all inside 
 (they usually extended out on the walk), then 
 shut and locked the doors, built a raging hot 
 lire in the stove, and set several men to smoking 
 tobacco behind the screen partition. The 
 ladies would not be driven out, however; they 
 took off their wraps, found seats for the weak 
 ones, stayed an hour, and had a good meeting. 
 
 " Yesterday the ladies adopted new tactics 
 and made an evening attack on the saloons. 
 They divided into three bands and took them 
 all by surprise, found the rooms full of men 
 playing billiards, and had good audiences. 
 Mother's band visited S. and found him very 
 mad at their coming in the evening. He shut 
 and locked the doors, the men withdrew by the 
 back door, and he threw red pepper on the hot 
 stove. The ladies nearly suffocated, but they 
 stood it bravely. They could not sing after 
 the opening hymn, their throats smarted so, 
 but there was no let up to the prayers, for when 
 one voice failed another began. The people 
 outside smelled the pepper a full square off, 
 hunted S. up, and compelled him to open the 
 doors. There is much excitement to-day; no 
 
PRAYER CURE AXD THE CRUSADE. 41 
 
 one knows what S. will do next, but the ladies 
 will never be driven away." 
 
 Minnie's "Temperance Marseillaise" Hymn 
 — page 93 — written for a Painesville choir, was 
 published as sheet music by Brainard and Co., 
 Cleveland, and was taken up with enthusiasm all 
 over the State, helping very materially at the 
 mass meetings. "Our Star Spangled Banner," — 
 page 95 — was also a factor of the general work. 
 
 Minnie's interest in the temperance work 
 never ceased; she was active in the Young 
 People's Temperance Society, and helped the 
 cause in every way possible, and when her 
 mother took on National work, she was depart- 
 ment secretary till her death. 
 
42 THE INVALID SIXGER. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 LETTERS. 
 
 IN response to a birthday letter from her 
 grandmother, Minnie wrote in March, 1876: 
 
 "Dear Grandma: — I can hardly realize that 
 girlhood's teens are all behind me forever; it 
 seems a great leap to take, with no visible 
 reason. I don't feel a bit older than I did five 
 years ago, and not half as wise. If I only 
 knew more, or could do more, I shouldn't 
 mind ; but sometimes I think I take up more 
 room in the world than I am worth. How- 
 ever, I do believe God has special work 
 for each one of His children, and if we are 
 patient, doing all the small duties meanwhile, 
 He will prepare us for it and show it to us in 
 His own good time. 
 
 " It may be He has nothing for me except 
 little humble, daily duties all my life; and if so, 
 and I can do them as I ought, I am content. 
 
LETTERS. 43 
 
 I only want to do and be just what He desires, 
 and anything that will help me to that will be 
 welcome. 
 
 "The * serious discipline ' of which you speak 
 as having been mine for so many years, does 
 not seem dreadful to me, looking back upon it; 
 it was but the shadow of God's hand, and 
 whom He loveth He chasteneth. The thought 
 that the reason for my being afflicted more 
 than many others may be because He loved me 
 more, though I hardly dare think it can be 
 true of myself, thrills me with its strange sweet- 
 ness every time I think of it. 
 
 "I think — I am sure, that if it would be better 
 for the growth of my soul, and I could serve 
 Him best in that way, 1 should be willing and 
 glad to < suffer and be still' all my life. For I 
 am persuaded that neither life, nor death, nor 
 any other creature shall be able to separate us 
 from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus; 
 and isn't it blessed to think how His love covers 
 all failures, and supplements all our feeble 
 efforts, and that, as our pastor says, 'It is 
 easier to please Him than any earthly friend 
 we have.' 
 
 " In reading of the many revivals all over 
 
44 THE INVALID SINGER. 
 
 the country now, I love to think how many 
 thousands of hearts are today rejoicing in a 
 strange, new, abiding happiness, who three 
 months ago were restlessly tossing on the 
 waves of worldliness and trouble ; and that 
 this God is our God forever and ever, makes a 
 wonderful bond of union between us and all 
 the world. 
 
 "I have taken a class in Sabbath school, and 
 enjoy it very much, though getting up and 
 down stairs is hard work. 
 
 "Your loving granddaughter, 
 
 "Minnie.'' 
 
 On a similar occasion the following year, she 
 wrote : 
 
 " Thanks for another birthday letter. What 
 I am most grateful for in it is the assurance you 
 give that you pray for me so frequently. It is 
 the most precious gift I could ask from any one. 
 I more and more believe in the power of prayer, 
 and cannot help but think the aged children of 
 God, with their greater depths of experience 
 and faith, and their long years of loving service 
 to the Lord rising up before Him as sweet 
 
LETTERS, 45 
 
 incense, must be able to offer more effectual 
 prayers than the younger disciples ; and that 
 they themselves are nearer His heart, as they are 
 
 to His many mansions I cannot tell, 
 
 of course, whether I shall ever recover my 
 health ; it hardly looks as probable as it did a 
 year ago, but I am in His hands, and quite con- 
 tent to leave it to Him. If I may only serve 
 Him acceptably through everything, it will be 
 all I shall wish. 
 
 " Lovingly yours, 
 
 " Minnie." 
 
 After this she endured a long and severe 
 siege of sickness, then came up again smiling, 
 and wrote to grandma : " I want to add a few 
 lines myself to show that I am really better. I 
 have been able to discontinue those disturbing 
 opiates, and suffer little now, except from nerv- 
 ousness ; appetite is returning, and I begin to 
 sit up. I have mourned most for my necessary 
 absence from the dear girls of my Sabbath- 
 school class, and from church, which is no small 
 trial ; but I should indeed be a dull pupil if: I 
 had not learned to say, ' The will of the Lord 
 be done.'" 
 
46 THE INVALID SINGER. 
 
 In 1879 necrosis again laid her aside, and 
 when once more able to attend church, her let- 
 ters tell of the new Sabbath-school class of nine 
 bright boys, whose activities, mental and physi- 
 cal, taxed all her powers, but whose hearts she 
 held, and whose souls, by all suitable devices 
 coupled with prayer, she was seeking to train 
 for the kingdom. She says: tl I enjoy the work 
 both for its own sake and the Master's, whose 
 one command after the ' Lovest thou me?" was, 
 ' Feed my lambs.' " 
 
 Later she tells of the Chautauqua circle of 
 fourteen she had helped organize and conduct, 
 and to whose work, with related studies, she 
 gave three hours a day. Again : " I am very 
 busy among the girls, working up the organiza- 
 tion of a Young Woman's Missionary Society, 
 and soon we shall have the big convention here. 
 I am unusually anxious to keep well, there is so 
 much I want to do." In March, 1880. she wrote 
 to a cousin : " Shall I give you last week's 
 program as a sample of what the winter has 
 been ? 
 
 " On Sabbath, four services — two sermons, 
 Sabbath school, and young people's meeting; 
 Monday night, meeting of the Chautauqua Circle; 
 
LETTERS. 4-7 
 
 Tuesday night, a tea party; Wednesday, church 
 social; Thursday morning, public examinations 
 at the seminary ; evening, church prayer meet- 
 ing, followed by teacher's meeting ; Friday 
 evening, normal class ; and Saturday afternoon, 
 Mission Circle. All these I attended, remem- 
 ber. I especially enjoy the Biblical studies in 
 the Chautauqua course. The Bible seems like a 
 new book to me, thanks to this course and our 
 pastor with his normal class. " 
 
 To a sister, in March, 1877, she writes: 
 
 " Do pray for me every day as I do for 
 
 you. If we could always feel as we do some- 
 times, so close to Jesus that His love fills our 
 very souls, and makes us glad and strong 
 enough for anything, there would not be so 
 much need of it ; but sometimes the clouds shut 
 down and hide His face, and we just have to 
 cling to Him by faith, and trust. We are too 
 apt to depend on feeling instead of faith, and 
 the Lord doesn't think best for us to stay on 
 the mountain tops, if they are pleasant. I do 
 try to serve Him through everything. I improve 
 in health slowly ; this illness has been so much 
 longer and more severe than any for several 
 years, I cannot expect to gain rapidly, but I am 
 
48 THE INVALID SINGER. 
 
 in such a hurry to get strong and be out again, 
 it has been a greater trial than usual this time 
 on account of music ; one's voice gets out of 
 practice so easily. 
 
 "It was a great trial that I was not strong 
 enough to sing in the concert by our great 
 Choral Union, for which I had prepared ; but I 
 could not give up hearing it, as I had begun to 
 sit up, so my dear, big brother carried me into 
 church in his arms ; and I cannot begin to teli 
 you how I enjoyed it. It was grand. " 
 
 For several years she not only taught in the 
 home Sabbath school, but also taught and sang 
 in the summer afternoons in a neighborhood 
 school on her own street. In April, 1876, she 
 says : " Our Mentor Avenue school opens 
 again next week ; we have got everything in 
 readiness and expect a better school than ever. 
 We hate to give up young people's meetings, 
 which grow larger and more interesting, but five 
 services a day are too much — at least, for me. 
 Teaching two classes is quite fatiguing, but I 
 can't bear to give up the church school, and 
 really seem needed here. I enjoy both." The 
 "we" included the "big brother" aforesaid, 
 who was always her devoted ally and help. 
 
YEARS. 49 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 HER LATER YEARS, 
 
 THE years 1 880-81 were heavily clouded, 
 though Minnie could always see the silver 
 lining of God's love. For months she was her- 
 self laid aside, a part of the time unable even 
 to beguile her nerves with reading; the dear 
 grandmother Cowles, whose eighty years had not 
 dulled the vigor of brain or warmth of heart, 
 exchanged this world for a heavenly, and Minnie 
 felt bereft; and in August her own precious 
 father, after months of waiting, passed through 
 the sunset gates into glory. 
 
 There was a remarkably strong tie between 
 Minnie and the dear father, who for twelve years 
 had been unwearied in his efforts to relieve the 
 tedium of her invalidism and turn the cross into 
 a blessing, and the loss was ever after keenly 
 felt. Those months of waiting had been months 
 of blessed communing, and earth could not fill 
 
50 THE INVALID SINGER. 
 
 the void. A new tie bound her to heaven and 
 a new impulse was given to her Christian life. 
 
 We extract from her letters written February 
 1 88 1, to her sister at Oberlin: k 'Do be careful 
 about overdoing. Keep well, if possible, but keep 
 happy anyway. Above all things don't get blue, 
 even if the flesh is weak. Will power cannot 
 always prevent this, but God can ; I have learned 
 that myself this winter. Jt almost always comes 
 from looking at one's self and the future. Look 
 to Christ and trust Him for today, and it will be 
 all easy. Don't you remember the recipe in 
 your album ? 
 
 " Build a little fence of trust 
 
 Around to-day; 
 Fill the space with loving work 
 
 And therein stay. 
 Look not through the sheltering bars 
 
 Upon to-morrow; 
 God will help thee bear what comes, 
 
 Of joy or sorrow." 
 
 "I have three cures for the blues: 'Do some- 
 thing for somebody,' 'Tell God everything/ and 
 my last year's motto-text, 'Looking unto Jesus.' 
 
HER LATER YEARS. 
 
 Our pastor's sermon yesterday was about happi- 
 ness — the difference between being happy and 
 feeling happy, and the duty of the former even if 
 the latter was impossible. ... I have not been 
 out of bed in seven w r eeks, and write now in 
 great weakness." In a letter to a friend a litttle 
 earlier she says: "It has been and is a little 
 trying not to be able to read or think much, and 
 the outlook for the future in regard to strength 
 is not encouraging, but I have only to live one 
 day at a time, and most of my days are happy. 
 Any where, any how, any what — so that it is 
 work for the Master; and I read yesterday that 
 well waited is well done.' Sometimes I think 
 it possible that I may slip away after a little, 
 but I don't dare think of it much ; I don't want 
 to get homesick before the Lord wants me to 
 come. I don't think it is mere waiting now; at 
 least, if I am not learning anything, it is not 
 because the Lord does not try to teach me." 
 
 May 10 she wrote: "Yesterday was Sunday, 
 and as I lay in the hammock (for my life is 
 divided now into hammock days and non-ham- 
 mock days, when I am shut in,) the orioles and 
 golden wrens were flashing in and out of the 
 blossoming plum trees against the blue sky, and 
 
52 THE INVALID SINGER. 
 
 made a picture *for an artist — only he could not 
 depict motion, still less song and fragrance. I 
 don't believe an angel straight out of heaven 
 could have helped enjoying yesterday, even if 
 1 earth is a desert drear.' It was all the lovelier 
 for being Sunday; the ' odor of sanctity' mixes 
 with the cherry blossoms, and it is more God's 
 world on His day always. Today it is too cool 
 to be out, but this minute I see a fat, self satisfied 
 robin under my window, gathering his bill full of 
 dried grass while keeping one eye on me to see 
 what I am going to do about it. I am getting 
 on famously, and am actually planning for a ride 
 next week." 
 
 The years as they went by were happy years, 
 mostly filled to the brim with healthful activities. 
 She was occasionally laid aside for a few weeks 
 or months by the old disease, but was compar- 
 atively well between the lapses, and by surgical 
 help was enabled to walk with small outward 
 token of her disability. Croquet, in which she 
 excelled, gave her outdoor exercise; she cared 
 for her flowers and canary bird, was the centre 
 of home life, shared the pleasure of a large 
 circle of young friends, where her influence was 
 
HER LATER YEARS. 53 
 
 felt in a fuller and more aggressive and self- 
 denying discipleship. 
 
 She was a great reader of books and book 
 reviews, and kept herself informed on all the 
 great movements and questions of the day. 
 Music, and especially singing, had always afforded 
 her intense enjoyment, and with returning health 
 her strong, sweet voice had received special train- 
 ing, and for years she had been permitted to 
 serve the great congregation in the choir, and 
 take special musical parts elsewhere. She 
 greatly enjoyed the Greek Club, of which she 
 wrote playfully: 
 
 "They study and argue, they talk and they laugh, 
 
 Unstayed by the wind or weather, 
 And politics, Plato, religion and life 
 
 Are straightened out together. 
 
 "Never a problem so deep and grave, 
 Or a verb so hard as to beat them; 
 
 And Socrates' search for the wise had ceased 
 If he had but happened to meet them." 
 
 Her studies always claimed a large share of 
 her time, and her gift of song was carefully cul- 
 
54 THE INVALID SINGER. 
 
 tivated. Her poems were eagerly welcomed by 
 the religious papers, her own modest estimate of 
 their worth being expressed in u Undertones " — 
 page 90. Yet she says: 
 
 " Springtime and morning may not hide their joy, 
 How shall I still my eager heart from singing?'' 
 
 This suggests that one great charm of her life 
 was its perennial undercurrent of gladness, 
 always ready to bubble up in a spring of pleas- 
 ure. 
 
 This happiness was partly due to temperament, 
 more to self-control — to her determination to 
 look always for the bright things instead of in- 
 dulging in self-pity, and most of all to her relL 
 gious life. This was not a punctilious discharge 
 of duties, but indwelling love. The Bible was to 
 her " juicy and meaty/' and she never tired of it, 
 drawing her own lessons, as in ''Going to Rome.*' 
 Religious writers like Miss Havergal and others 
 helped to feed her soul. Failures, short comings, 
 sins and wanderings sometimes marked her 
 pathway as they do that of others, and bore fruit 
 in greater self-distrust, humility, watchfulness 
 and repentance, and she was comforted because 
 in it all Jesus loved her. 
 
HER LATER YEARS. 55 
 
 In 1884 Minnie went as delegate to the 
 Woman's Board of Missions meeting, held in 
 connection with that of the American Board at 
 Columbus. Though late in reaching there, from 
 illness, her full letters show keen enjoyment. 
 Exhausted by travel, the first meeting she attend- 
 ed was that of the Woman's Board, u caring 
 more for that than for any other meeting." To 
 see the officers she knew so well through '"Life 
 and LigJit" and hear some of the missionaries 
 too, was a rich treat, and she says: " I am so 
 glad I came!" She was enthusiastic over the 
 regular Board meetings, adding: "I enjoyed 
 especially the speeches of young Dr. Scudder, 
 going out as missionary, and President Mark 
 Hopkins, the personification of venerable good- 
 ness. Mary and I had the pleasure of a few 
 words for ourselves from him after the meeting." 
 
 A twenty-fifth anniversary reunion of the First 
 Congregational Church of Columbus occurring 
 at this time, all the former pastors were present, 
 and Minnie enjoyed the gatherings and social 
 visits with old friends, and especially those with 
 her childhood's pastor, Dr. Goodwin, now of 
 Chicago, whose sermons, prayers and conversa- 
 tions were very inspiring to her. She closes: 
 
56 THE INVALID SINGER. 
 
 " Every one is so kind and cordial, I should be 
 afraid of having my head turned, only that I was 
 feeling so disconsolate just before I came that 
 I think it is good for me. It always agrees with 
 me to be happy, you know, and, in spite of physi- 
 cal reasons for not feeling well, such as new 
 bone trouble and going more than usual, I am 
 really improving in health." 
 
THE TRANSITION. 57 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE TRANSITION. 
 
 IN 1885 Minnie's two younger brothers were 
 brought to death's door with typhoid fever; 
 and Minnie had a light attack of the same, but 
 complicated with her old enemy, necrosis. She 
 had so many times returned from the portals of 
 another world, it was almost taken for granted 
 she would rally again ; but, contrary to expecta- 
 tions, both brothers recovered, and Minnie 
 passed beyond the vail. Her enjoyments had 
 been intense, like her sufferings; she had come 
 to look forward to years of happy usefulness, 
 and life looked desirable, with the one drawback 
 often expressed — the fear of out-living her 
 mother, as she had her father. 
 
 She cheerfully joined a prayer circle for her 
 recovery, and when her pastor inquired what 
 special gift "he should ask of God for her, she 
 told him of it and asked him to join the others. 
 He replied with the query : " What is really 
 
5 8 THE INVALID SINGER. 
 
 the bottom wish of your heart about recovery?" 
 '•Oh/'* she answered, "I would so much rather 
 go home to Jesus than live the suffering life that 
 seems before me ; but it wouldn't be loyal to 
 those who are praying for my recovery, and I 
 think Jesus wants me to live, and His will is 
 mine. You don't think it would be right to ask 
 God to take me home now, do you? " 
 
 " Certainly I do, if you ask in a submissive 
 spirit; it is what he invites you to do," he said. 
 On finding that mother, too, counted it her priv- 
 ilege, she eagerly prayed that she might be 
 taken home, unless it was in the Lord's plan to 
 make her truly well, adding that if she could 
 glorify Him better by a life of suffering, she 
 would take it cheerfully. The prayer was 
 speedily answered, and she faded from our 
 sight ; illustrating her own paraphrase of one of 
 Longfellow's translations : 
 
 " Softly stealing, come, O Death ! 
 
 That thy touch I may not feel; 
 Lest the joy of ebbing breath 
 
 Heal the wound thy hand shall deal." 
 
 For days she seemed to hover in a border- 
 land, where Heaven was real and earth unreal. 
 
THE TRANSITION. 59 
 
 She seemed wholly sane and ready to converse, 
 but preferred to be left undisturbed, for she 
 said : " The angels are with me all the time, 
 and we have such good talks; but when you 
 speak we have to stop." She described a choir 
 of little children that visited her repeatedly; 
 sometimes " playing and having fun, to show me 
 what good times children have in heaven," and 
 often singing for her. " Jesus' Child," she said 
 was her favorite. 
 
 Once she broke the stillness by saying: 
 "Isn't that delightful music? Surely, mother, 
 you can hear that ! " I asked her who was 
 singing, and she said: "It is a male quartette; 
 they are singing ' Victory.' I never heard such 
 music before." Later she said : " Mother, 
 hear the music; they are coming for me — so 
 many of them — now — quick — help me go." 
 
 She was unconscious of earthly things the 
 last twenty-four hours, and passed away as 
 gently as the light of day. To quote from her 
 own poem, " Beyond " : 
 
 " What wonder blossoms on my sight ! 
 The rifted clouds were gates of light, 
 And level glories broad and sweet 
 Spanned the dark waters to my feet! 
 
6o THE INVALID SINGER. 
 
 One far ship, like a white-winged soul, 
 Sailed in that pathway to the goal. 
 Oh, gates of glad surprise, 
 For sunset-turning eyes, 
 Oh, happy soul that sped away 
 And vanished in the skies." 
 
 In the pastor's absence, Dr. Ferguson, an old 
 family friend, drew for the assembled friends at 
 the funeral these beautiful and suggestive les- 
 sons : 
 
 " This place is holy, made so by the life and 
 death of a saint of God. She came into the 
 kingdom by the way we ought to pray and 
 expect our children to come, by growth. She 
 came the same way to her gift of song. While yet 
 a child, she began the long battle with disease, 
 which could have but one end. She was weaned 
 from the world, yet had a happy life, a serene 
 and joyful face, an illumined face. She was 
 busy to help others and do the work of the 
 Kingdom. She was ready this long while to go, 
 but also ready to bear all God's will. She left 
 no last words, we had no need of them ; she 
 has left us a priceless legacy — a remembered 
 life, living evidence of Christianity, an abiding 
 
THE TRANSITION. 6 1 
 
 influence greater than that of others not invalid, 
 and by her songs she ' being dead yet speaketh.' 
 " Other lessons come to us from the easy 
 transition of this songful spirit ; from the com- 
 fortable thought that death is robbed of terror. 
 He 'turneth the shadow of death into morning;' 
 from the painless life into which she has en- 
 tered, where ' the inhabitant shall not say I am 
 sick/ ' neither shall there be any more pain/ 
 Heaven seems near and the door stands open 
 for us." 
 
 At the next communion season her pastor 
 held a commemorative service, at which three 
 of her poems were read as illustrating her relig- 
 ious life. They were : "The Face of the Lord," 
 "His Dwelling Place," and "Jesus our Strength." 
 
 Minnie's oldest brother, living at St. Paul 
 was detained from the funeral, and in a letter 
 paid this tribute to her helpfulness: "For 
 years she has been more to all of us than we 
 could be to her, and a perfect miracle of sweet- 
 ness and patience through all her sufferings. 
 This has been a constant lesson to us, showing 
 always and unmistakably the assistance of her 
 Savior to bear her burdens. My memory is 
 crowded with lovely reminiscences of her." 
 
62 THE INVALID SINGER. 
 
 One of her young friends wrote: "Her living 
 was so nobly done that every one she touched 
 was lifted up and made better. I don't think I 
 ever saw her at home or away, without being 
 benefitted." "Minnie's life," another writes, 
 "was a constant inspiration to me; she was so 
 helpful in our young ladies' meetings and in 
 church work — so kind and so utterly unselfish ! 
 I thank God it was my privilege to know and 
 love her." 
 
 From others we quote : " Made perfect 
 through suffering ; what a triumph of faith ! " 
 " She sees the King in His beauty, and herself 
 rejoices in the beauty of holiness." " Her case 
 has helped in our church prayer-meetings and 
 Bible school, as we have tried by her to illus- 
 trate Christian character and Christian living. 
 She remains yet a blessing in the earth."' 
 
 From the press notices of her death, we quote 
 from the Oberlin News: "Minnie was well 
 known here ; seventeen years of suffering inva- 
 lidism had not prevented her from acquiring 
 rare intellectual culture, while her sunny Chris- 
 tian life attracted and blessed all who knew her. 
 The gift of song has made her name familiar 
 to readers of religious papers for many years, 
 
THE TRANSITION. 63 
 
 and the family, the church, and all good work 
 sustain a loss in her death. " 
 
 Christian Statesman : "A beautiful soul has 
 lately passed over into the fuller life of the 
 better country. Such rare powers and lovely 
 spirit are helpful and stimulating to our young 
 people, and her removal is a loss to the cause of 
 Christ and our country.'' 
 
 Union Signal: "The pearly gates opened 
 wide to let in a beautiful spirit — the daughter of 
 our National Superintendent of Sabbath Observ- 
 ance. For years a suffering invalid, her hand 
 and brain and heart were ever busy about her 
 Father's business. Confined to a sick-room, no 
 narrow walls circumscribed her interest and her 
 influence. She felt every throb of the great 
 world's heart, and responded to every call for 
 sympathy. From that sick room sounded sweet 
 strains — singing of devotion, of courage, and of 
 faith; some of her poems the world will not 
 willingly let die. She enters Heaven with heart 
 perfectly attuned to its harmonies, while the 
 echo of her songs and the influence of her life 
 still bless the earth." 
 
 Dr. Goodwin, referring to their Columbus 
 visit, writes: " I was charmed exceedingly with 
 
64 THE INVALID SINGER. 
 
 Minnie's testimony. I felt that she had come 
 into an experience very unusual with most 
 invalids — of having conscious victory all the 
 way. She not only appreciated Scripture teach- 
 ing as being true ; she knew and felt the truth as 
 wrought out in herself. She impressed me as 
 having a most unusual grasp of faith ; as walk- 
 ing in very close and sweet fellowship with the 
 dear Lord. She expressed no wish for restored 
 health — counting it a boon long since denied, 
 and counting it all joy to suffer for His sake. 
 Her great longing was to be exactly what the 
 Master would desire, sure that He would fashion 
 her into His own likeness. She seemed a beau- 
 tiful illustration of how nothing — not life or 
 death or the powers of evil can separate from 
 the conscious embosoming of God's great love ; 
 a living and blessed demonstration of how the 
 peace of God that passeth all understanding 
 can keep the heart of the believer, whatever the 
 fiery furnace into which he is thrust." 
 
 The following sketch was written by her 
 dearly-loved pastor, Rev. Geo. R. Merrill, of the 
 First Congregational Church, of Painesville, O.: 
 
 " Her life seemed a mass of contradictions. 
 
THE TRANSITION. 65 
 
 Seventeen youthful years of invalidism, bright 
 and sunny; hopeless and continuous pain, with 
 patience; exclusion, from very childhood, from 
 school and ordinary opportunities for training, 
 and yet a mind rarely cultivated and adorned ; 
 apparently the narrowest circle of opportunity, 
 and yet touching a larger world in sympathy 
 and helpfulness than her more favored friends ; 
 loving life with a youth's intensity, and yet 
 longing for Heaven with a matured Christian's 
 desire. 
 
 "Her mental culture, gift of song, and what 
 is more commonly called the religious life, were 
 so blended together that they may not be sep. 
 arated. 
 
 "Set apart, at the age of twelve, to a well- 
 nigh hopeless invalidism, she so used books 
 and friends and nature that few graduates of 
 the schools were her equals in the range and 
 accuracy of her knowledge. She was specially 
 proficient in literature. Her latest study was 
 the Greek tongue, which she entered upon for 
 the sake of coming nearer to the wonderful life 
 which is recorded in it, and she had succeeded 
 in its acquisition to such an extent as to read 
 Plato with keen enjoyment. 
 
66 THE INVALID SINGER. 
 
 " Her earliest literary efforts were published 
 in the 'Young Folks' Rural/ and the 'Little 
 Corporal,' but in later years her poems have 
 been familiar to the readers of the l Advance ' 
 and ihe ' Congregationalism' Her songs were 
 all 'heart songs,' in which some new experience 
 of her own, or some new impression of truth 
 bubbled forth ; their simplicity and reality gave 
 them power to touch the answering chords of 
 other hearts. 
 
 " For the impulse of everything, as she con- 
 fessed and as her friends saw, was that she was 
 a Christian; and no better memorial word could 
 be put above her grave than this : ' For His 
 sake.' Her Christian life was exquisitely nat- 
 ural in its unfolding, beginning with her own 
 consciousness of life itself, and the sense of 
 what she owed her Lord impelled her to 
 strongest efforts to make the most of herself, 
 to cultivate and use her gifts, and to make 
 everything that belonged to Him her special 
 care. And so the Bible-school class and the 
 missionary circle, the fortnightly and the nor- 
 mal class, all the work of reform in which her 
 mother was engaged, were taken into her heart 
 and thought for the Master's sake. 
 
THE TRANSITION. 67 
 
 " None can tell what she was at home — at 
 once daughter and younger sister to her mother, 
 mentor and help to younger members of the 
 flock ; binding household life most rarely by 
 the patience of her weakness and the humility 
 of love, which were round her like an atmos- 
 phere. " 
 
® ® ® part Second ® ® ® 
 
 50NQJ. 
 
SONGS 
 
 PRAISE VVAITETH FOR THEE. 
 
 They stand, the regal mountains, 
 
 With crowns of spotless snow, 
 Forever changeless, grand, sublime, 
 
 While ages come and go ! 
 Each day the morning cometh 
 
 In through the eastern gate, 
 With trailing robes of pink and gold. 
 
 Yet still they watch and wait 
 For that more glorious morning, 
 
 Till that glad message comes, — 
 " Lift up your heads, ye gates of God, 
 
 The King of Glory comes !" 
 
 And so they stand, o'erlooking 
 Earth's trouble, pain and sin, 
 
 And wait the call to lift their gates, 
 And let the kingdom in. 
 
72 THE INVALID SINGER. 
 
 O calm, majestic mountains ! 
 
 O ever! <sting hills! 
 Beside your patient watch, how small 
 
 Seem all life's joys and ills ! 
 
 Beyond, the restless ocean, 
 
 Mysterious, vast and dim, 
 Whose changeful waves forever chant 
 
 Their grand, triumphal hymn ; 
 Now tempest lashed and raging, 
 
 With deep and hungry roar, 
 The foam-capped billows dash themselves 
 
 In anger on the shore. 
 
 Now wavelets ripple gently 
 
 Along the quiet strand, 
 While Summer sunshine broodeth soft 
 
 O'er all the sea and land. 
 O mighty waves! as chainless 
 
 And free as birds that skim ! 
 There's One who rules the stormy sea, — 
 
 Thy song is all of Him ! 
 
 February, 1873, 
 
CRUMBS. 73 
 
 CRUMBS. 
 Perhaps you have heard, dear children, 
 
 Or may hear in time to come, 
 The quaint old fairy legend 
 
 Of little Hop-o'-my-Thumb. 
 How, waking once in the darkness, 
 
 Just before dawn of day ; 
 He heard his parents talking, 
 
 And trembled to hear them say: 
 
 " A woodcutter's life is toilsome, 
 
 With very pcor wages, too ; 
 And the children are so many 
 
 We know not what to do. 
 We cannot keep them longer, 
 
 For famine is at the door — 
 We must lose them in the forest, 
 
 So they'll come home no more." 
 
 Hop-o'-my-Thumb was the youngest, 
 
 But his heart was brave and kind; 
 And a plan by which to save them, 
 
 Quickly entered his mind. 
 And so, while the simple breakfast 
 
 Of bread — their only fare — 
 Was soon devoured by the others, 
 
 He carefully kept his share. 
 
74 THE INVALID SINGER, 
 
 The woodman went to his labor 
 
 By morning's earliest light, 
 Taking the children with him, 
 
 To work in the woods till night. 
 Hop-o'-my-Thumb was ready, 
 
 And followed as he led, 
 At every step in the pathway 
 
 Dropping a crumb of bread. 
 
 When deep in the thickest forest, 
 
 The father bid them stay 
 To gather and bind the bundles ; 
 
 Then quietly slipped away ! 
 At last the sun was setting, 
 
 And their father did not come ; 
 So with fear and hunger, sobbing, 
 
 They sought the pathway home. 
 
 And when the search seemed fruitless, 
 
 They listened to Hop o'-my-Thumb, 
 Who safely led them homeward 
 
 By the aid of each little crumb ; 
 Till, just at the close of evening, 
 
 Their tired feet reached the door, 
 Where the mother received them gladly, 
 
 And loved them as before ! 
 
CRUMBS. 75 
 
 I think the world is a forest ; 
 
 While we, like the children, try 
 To reach the House of Our Father, 
 
 His beautiful Home on high! 
 But we try in vain to gain it, 
 
 Till our Elder Brother comes, 
 And shows the path of duty, 
 
 By precious guiding crumbs. 
 
 The path is rough and thorny, 
 
 Stumble and fall we may ; 
 But the crumbs are here before us, 
 
 And we need not miss the way. 
 There are crumbs of joy and comfort, 
 
 Of love and of promise sweet; 
 Of help for the thorny places, 
 
 And strength for our weary feet. 
 
 "Thy word is a lamp/' says David — 
 
 It giveth peace and light; 
 The crumbs are the Bible verses, 
 
 That guide our steps aright. 
 May we follow their blessed teaching, 
 
 Till, the wearisome journey o'er, 
 We stand in our Father's palace, 
 
 Whence we shall go out no more. 
 
 March, 1872. 
 
7 6 THE INVALID SINGER. 
 
 FLOWER LESSONS. 
 
 Far above man's feeble art, 
 Speaking straight from nature's heart, 
 Many lessons flowers impart ; 
 Let us take them to our heart. 
 
 In this Golden Lily, see 
 What gorgeous, regal majesty, 
 "Mark the lilies ! " thus saith He 
 Who created flowers for me. 
 
 "How they toil not, neither spin; 
 Yet e'en Solomon the King 
 Such rich garments could not win 
 As these lilies glory in." 
 
 Here are Roses, sweet and red, 
 By their breath the bees are fed; 
 Queen of flowers, 'tis truly said ; 
 Loved and fragrant e'en when dead. 
 
 Next a wild-woods Violet 
 Nestling 'mid the green leaves wet ; 
 Blue and bonny little pet, 
 Though transplanted, humble yet. 
 
 So my Fuschia, full of grace, 
 Droops its white and crimson face ; 
 
THE MESSAGE. 77 
 
 Showing never pride of place 
 In its stately garden vase. 
 
 Purple Pansies 'neath the trees, 
 With their smiling faces please. 
 Cheering others, as do these, 
 We may find our true heartsease. 
 
 Immortelle comes last of all, 
 Varied blossoms, large and small; 
 By name and habit, thoughts they call 
 To eternity, that waits for all. 
 
 February, 187 i. 
 
 THE MESSAGE. 
 
 The sky was overcast with sullen clouds, 
 
 And though at times the sun shone faintly through, 
 
 Yet the March winds were keen, and here and 
 
 there 
 The snow still rested on the cold brown earth. 
 
 I lay within the chamber, hushed and dark, 
 While the dull pain beat through my fevered brow, 
 And in the body's weakness half forgot 
 The Father's sheltering arm and loving smile. 
 
78 THE INVALID SINGER. 
 
 Remembering not His mercy of the past — 
 The blessings that had brightened all my life — 
 But thinking only of the troubles now, 
 The weariness and disappointed hopes; 
 And mindless of the promises so sure, 
 I murmured sad — the Winter is so dark, 
 And Spring comes not ! 
 
 A hand upon the door — 
 Two pattering feet stepped softly to my side — 
 Two bright child-eyes gazed gladly into mine — 
 And then the little hand unclasped and laid 
 A blue Spring violet upon the bed, 
 
 A " smile of God!" The quick tears filled my 
 eyes, 
 As, breathing in the odor faint and sweet, 
 I held it close and kissed its friendly face, 
 Listening to catch the message He had sent. 
 
 O faithless heart! If this brave flower could lift 
 Its fragile head above the wintry snow — 
 Sure that the faithful Spring was coming soon, 
 Could'st thou not trustful wait His own good time? 
 
 March, 1874. 
 
BABY BROTHER. 79 
 
 BABY BROTHER. 
 
 Lying asleep on the sofa, 
 
 Innocent, fresh and fair, 
 And the sunbeams through the window 
 
 Lighting his golden hair. 
 
 The deep blue eyes, so often 
 With mischief sparkling bright, 
 
 Are wearied now, and hidden 
 By drooping lids of white, 
 
 While rest the long brown lashes 
 On th' plump and dimpled cheek, 
 
 And the rosy lips are parted 
 As if about to speak. 
 
 Stirring a bit in his slumber, 
 
 A smile flits o'er his face; 
 The sweet dream-thoughts of a baby 
 
 No mortal can ever trace. 
 
 " Of such is the kingdom of heav'n," 
 
 And Jesus loves them so ! 
 With a love more pure and changeless 
 
 Than we can ever know. 
 
 June, 187 1. 
 
8o THE INVALID SINGER. 
 
 BIRDIE. 
 
 Slender, graceful, quick and neat, 
 Bright black eyes and dainty feet ! 
 You have heard the wild birds sing 
 O'er the meadows in the Spring ; 
 You have seen a sunbeam fall, 
 Golden yellow, on the wall. 
 Music in a beam of light — 
 That's our birdie, Bobbie Bright ! 
 
 In his cage he sits and sings, 
 In the sunshine swings and sings ; 
 First a low, clear, mellow note 
 Ripples from his swelling throat ; 
 Faster, stronger, runs along 
 To a burst of joyous song. 
 Standing tip-toe in the rush — 
 Quivering in the eager gush — 
 Ripple, warble, trill and call, 
 How the sweet notes rise and fall ! 
 One clear whistle, then a pause ; 
 Now he's waiting for applause. 
 
 Birdie's like some choirs I've heard ; 
 Though he sings to praise the Lord, 
 Keeps a sly lookout below — 
 Wants to have us listen, too. 
 
BIRDIE. 8 1 
 
 Diving briskly from his seat — 
 Have you seen canaries eat ? 
 Bobbie cracks a seed with skill, • 
 
 Whisks it round with tongue and bill ; 
 Down on each side falls the shell. 
 Don't you think he does that well ? 
 
 Birdie likes his bathing-dish, 
 Takes to water like a fish ; 
 Ducks his head and flirts his tail, 
 Wet, more wet, as sings the quail. 
 Spatter! how the water flies ! 
 Does he shut his round, black eyes ? 
 Glittering diamonds set in gold 
 Down his yellow back are rolled. 
 Jolly fun it is, I know. 
 Doesn't your bird do just so ? 
 
 Blithsome Birdie, free from care, 
 Every day to him is fair ; 
 In his cage he sits and swings, 
 Cloud or sunshine, swings and sings. 
 God will furnish drink and seeds ; 
 Everything that Birdie needs. 
 When it grows too dark to sing 
 He tucks his head beneath his wing. 
 
82 THE INVALID SINGER. 
 
 Just a soft, round, fluffy ball 
 
 Of faith and feathers, that is all. 
 
 He is wiser than he seems. 
 
 Good night, Birdie ; pleasant dreams ! 
 
 April, 1875. 
 
 OUR TWIN OAKS. 
 
 On the brow of a gentle hill, near a growth of 
 other trees, stood two twin oaks. Scores of 
 years had passed since the two little acorns 
 found a resting-place in the soft, green sod; 
 and the twin trees had grown up together, side 
 by side, stretching out their arms to each other, 
 and inter locking them, until they stood in full 
 strength and beauty, extending their sheltering 
 branches protectingly over a pretty white cot- 
 tage that nestled beneath. 
 
 The birds built their nests in the branches, 
 and filled the air with rippling bursts of melody 
 through the pleasant Spring mornings. The 
 lively red squirrel had her home there also, and 
 ran up and down their gray, old trunks, gather- 
 ing her winter store of acorns. 
 
 In the summer the children played on the 
 
OUR TWIN OAKS. $3 
 
 grass below them, or, sitting on the rustic seat, 
 gazed dreamily up into the branches, watching 
 the sunshine which flickered through the dancing 
 leaves, forming fantastic shadows and shimmer- 
 ing patches of light, which were continually 
 changing as they looked. 
 
 Then when the Autumn came, and their 
 glossy leaves changed to russet brown, and one 
 by one loosened their hold of the parent stem 
 and fluttered slowly to the ground, and the bare 
 branches swayed and moaned in the cold, north 
 wind, the beautiful snow fell softly, draping 
 them all in its pure, white mantle. Thus in sun- 
 shine and shadow the years passed away, and 
 in each one the twin oaks raised their heads a 
 little nearer to the blue sky, and twined their 
 arms a little closer together ; and they rejoiced 
 in their growth, whispering to each other of 
 their happiness. 
 
 But a sad change came. One bright, winter 
 morning, as they looked down at the quaint 
 home which they sheltered and watched over, 
 they saw little puffs of blue smoke curling up 
 from the roof, soon increasing in volume, and 
 rolling upward a thick, dark mass, with here 
 and there bright flames darting through, like 
 
84 THE INVALID SINGER. 
 
 lightning in a thunder-cloud. The poor trees 
 swayed back, as if with a vain effort to escape 
 from the spot, but the flames, bursting from the 
 windows, surged up with the smoke among the 
 boughs, lighting myriads of tiny torches of 
 the trembling twigs, while the fierce, scorching 
 heat burned deep into their breasts. Before 
 long the pretty cottage was burned to ashes, 
 
 and the two sheltering trees were dead 
 
 In the early spring time, when the other trees 
 blossom out in their fresh, green robes, and 
 through the bright summer, when they rejoice 
 in their life and beauty and the gladness of the 
 sunshine, the twin oaks lift their charred and 
 blackened arms toward the Heavens, as if still 
 appealing for the help that never came. And 
 the pitying breezes, as they gently sway the 
 dead branches, sigh and moan as if lamenting 
 the cruel fate of the sister trees. They were 
 lovely and beautiful in their lives, and in their 
 death they were not divided. 
 
 June, 1871. 
 
THE LEGEND OF INNISFALLEN. 85 
 
 THE LEGEND OF INNISFALLEN. 
 
 The Abbot of Innisfallen 
 
 Arose from his couch to pray, 
 Or ever the first faint flush of dawn 
 
 Stole over the twilight gray. 
 While the peace of the great night-angel 
 
 In the air was still abroad, 
 And no world clamor could jar the wings 
 
 That lifted his soul to God. 
 
 Oh, fair on Killarney's water, 
 
 The isle like a blossom lay, 
 And fair in its bosom the abbey walls 
 
 Rose up with their turrets gray. 
 But the inner soul of the beauty 
 
 Illumined the chapel air 
 When the sunrise streamed through the oriel 
 pane 
 
 On the Abbot's morning prayer. 
 
 But once, ere the golden dawning, 
 
 The low words died away, 
 For a strange song rose on the outward air, 
 
 And the monk could no longer pray. 
 In vain he murmured an ave 
 
 And pressed to the shrine more near ; 
 
86 THE INVALID SINGER. 
 
 His soul was drawn with a mystic spell, 
 And he could not choose but hear. 
 
 " The sweet, sweet voice is calling, 
 
 It calleth my soul to greet ! " 
 And forth in the hueless morning 
 
 He hurried with trembling feet. 
 " I must gaze on the soul that singeth, 
 
 Though angel or friend it be. 
 May Christ who was tempted himself on earth 
 
 Have pity, and pardon me !" 
 
 He saw in the dusky twilight, 
 
 A beautiful, snow-white bird ; 
 The air glowed softly around its wings, 
 
 And thrilled as the music stirred. 
 Slow r ly it flew before him, 
 
 And the Abbot followed on. 
 Scant choice have the feet but overtake 
 
 When the eyes and the heart have gone. 
 
 And now through the silent forest, 
 
 And now by the silver lake, 
 O'er moor and meadow he followed still, 
 
 Through desolate fen and brake. 
 And if it were noon or evening, 
 
 If moments or years went by, 
 
THE LEGEND OF INNISFALLEJV. 87 
 
 The monk knew not while he heard beyond 
 The voice of that melody. 
 
 But at last the abbey turrets 
 
 Rose up to his sight again ; 
 He thought of his uncompleted prayer, 
 
 And the glamour cleared from his brain. 
 But the walls are old and crumbling; ! 
 
 And the ivy grown so high 
 He can scarcely see the oriel pane 
 
 Where he watched the morning sky ! 
 
 And why are his limbs grown feeble ? 
 
 His hands so thin and seamed ? 
 And what are the locks like flying snow, 
 
 Which over his shoulders streamed ? 
 He entered the chapel doorway, 
 
 But the porter's face was strange ; 
 Each passing form and familiar scene 
 
 Had suffered a wondrous change. 
 
 And never a monk in the abbey 
 Could tell his face or his name ; 
 
 But an aged man from his quiet cell, 
 With tottering footsteps came. 
 
 <4 When I was a boy," he murmured, 
 " They whispered the story o'er, 
 
SS THE IX VALID SINGER. 
 
 How the father Anselm vanished away, 
 And they saw his face no more." 
 
 " It was I," said the trembling Abbot, 
 
 While the startled monks were dumb ; 
 " O, give to me absolution now, 
 
 For I know my hour has come." 
 They gave him the holy wafer, 
 
 And reverent laid him down 
 Where the light fell soft on his wrinkled brow, 
 
 Like a gold and opal crown. 
 
 Then his breath came faint and fainter, 
 
 And the awe-struck watchers heard 
 The low, sweet call from the casement ledge 
 
 Of a strange and beauteous bird. 
 It perched on the couch of waiting ; 
 
 The bells of the abbey tolled, 
 Then two birds rose to the azure sky, 
 
 And the monk lay still and cold. 
 
 Oh ! what is the ancient legend, 
 But the story of life for each ? 
 
 To follow forever a shining hope 
 That beckons beyond our reach, 
 
 But I think when we fall a-weary, 
 And the long pursuit is past, 
 
THE LIFE BUILDING. 89 
 
 The beautiful vision we sought so long 
 Will stoop to our hand at last. 
 
 December, 1882. 
 
 THE LIFE BUILDING. 
 
 How great the task a worthy life to build ! 
 
 Each young heart hears the warning : " Plan 
 with care ; 
 Build wisely lest, thy purpose mis-fulfilied, 
 
 Thou seek in vain to make a late repair ! " 
 A brain untaught by years — a hand unskilled, 
 
 The slender tools to found, unflawed and fair, 
 A tower of strength the tempest shocks to 
 bear ; — 
 
 So hard the task a perfect life to build ! 
 O, thou great Architect, whose least designs 
 
 Grow to creation, plan my life for me ! 
 Sign with Thy Name of power the contract lines, 
 
 And but the humble laborer I will be, 
 Whose daily toil beneath a wise command 
 
 Works out the pattern in the Master's hand. 
 
 March, 1881. 
 
90 THE INVALID SINGER. 
 
 UNDERTONES. 
 
 I hear earth's master-songs, sublimely sweet ; 
 The morning larks, to unknown glories spring- 
 ing, 
 Pour out upon the twilight world below 
 
 The vision of their eyes in raptured singing ; 
 And nightingales, in moon-enchanted groves, 
 Wide to the night their passioned hearts are 
 flinging. 
 
 Yet sparrow songs along the wayside path, 
 
 Whose simple notes small outward grace can 
 borrow, 
 
 Bring also sunlit messages from heaven, 
 
 And weary passers, burdened with the morrow, 
 
 Glean from the joyful accents hope and cheer, 
 And half forget the heavy care and sorrow. 
 
 I know the world is full of vivid bloom — 
 
 That purple passion-flowers with mystic story 
 
 Mount ever towards the sky ; that roses burn 
 Red with the glow of Love's swift oratory, 
 
 And tall, white lillies stand up in the sun, 
 
 Pale prophets in the strength of stainless glory. 
 
 But are no violets clasped with tender hands 
 Where gold and ruby cups the tulip raises ? 
 
UNDE R TONES. 9 1 
 
 When all the June-kissed roses light the earth, 
 Is there no room for buttercups and daises? 
 
 May God not hearken 'mid the grander notes 
 To hear the wood anemone's low praises ? 
 
 Oh, grant another brown bird leave to sing ! 
 
 Although no azure flight of tireless winging 
 Uplift the notes, nor darkness wrap them round, 
 
 Its deeper tones of grief-born sweetness bring- 
 ing; 
 Springtime and Morning may not hide their joy. 
 
 How shall I still my eager heart from singing? 
 
 I pray you, friendly ones, for room to grow, 
 Though small the beauty there may be for 
 showing, 
 And if no simple child or burdened soul 
 
 May find the floweret fair beyond my know- 
 ing, 
 Perchance the Lord who planteth every seed 
 May smile to see the folded blossoms growing. 
 
 May, 1879. 
 
THE INVALID SINGER. 
 
 A FORETASTE. 
 
 [A few very warm days in the middle of winter.] 
 
 The Heavens are blue above us, 
 Though the earth is brown below ; 
 
 The sun shines bright on the rippling stream, 
 And the breezes softly blow. 
 
 They breathe on my weary forehead, 
 And play with the fluttering hair, 
 
 Whispering soft, to my longing heart, 
 Of the future Spring, so fair. 
 
 The elm-trees feel in their branches 
 
 The touch of the sunny noon, 
 And drowsily murmur, swaying soft, 
 
 " Art thou come, sweet Spring, so soon ? " 
 
 My crocuses, deeply hidden, 
 
 Do you think the winter gone ? 
 Do you feel through the brown earth's bosom 
 
 The wooing kiss of the sun ? 
 
 O, trust not his call alluring, 
 
 But patiently wait below, 
 Lest your fair young heads be covered deep 
 
 With the cruel, wintry snow. 
 
TEMPERANCE HYMN. 93 
 
 O grass, 'neath the warm sun greening, 
 
 The Spring is not coming yet ! 
 The cold wind swept thee not long ago, 
 
 And can'st thou so soon forget ? 
 
 O trees, wake not from your slumbers ! 
 
 Wee buds, do not swell so fast ! 
 This is but a hint of the future Spring, 
 
 Too early and sweet to last. 
 
 And yet, though again the morrow 
 
 Its wintry storms may bring, 
 My heart will be glad and thankful still, 
 
 For this one sweet taste of Spring. 
 
 And when earth's winter is over — 
 Though it long may be and late — 
 
 The glad new springtime will surely come ; 
 Be patient, my heart, and wait. 
 
 TEMPERANCE MARSEILLES HYMN. 
 
 [Written, at the request of Capt. Kilbourne, for the 
 Painesville Temperance Singers, and sung by the people 
 of Ohio during the Crusade in 1874.] 
 
 Ye friends of Temperance, rouse to duty! 
 Heed now the call that bids you rise: 
 
94 THE INVALID SINGER. 
 
 The wives and mothers earnest pleading — 
 
 Behold their tears, and hear their cries! 
 
 Behold their tears, and hear their cries! 
 Shall selfish men, vile mischief breeding — 
 
 A heartless liquor-dealing band — 
 
 Afflict and desolate the land, 
 While pure and loving hearts are bleeding? 
 
 Cho. — Arise, ye friends of truth ! 
 
 Gird on your armor bright ! 
 Work on, work on, all hearts resolved 
 
 To conquer in His might! 
 Pray on, pray on, and God will give 
 
 The victory to the Right. 
 
 March on ! the battle is Jehovah's ! 
 Our Leader calls us on today; 
 
 His arm is strong, our cause will triumph ; 
 Then let us work and strive and pray 
 Till this dark curse be swept away. 
 
 Our enemies will yield before us, 
 Their work of sin and ruin cease, 
 And homes be blessed with love and peace, 
 
 For God and Right shall be victorious! 
 
 Cho. — Arise, then, friends of truth! 
 Gird on your armor bright! 
 
STAR-SPANGLED BANNER, 95 
 
 Work on, work on, all hearts resolved 
 
 To conquer in His might; 
 Pray on, pray on, and God will give 
 
 The victory to the Right. 
 
 OUR STAR-SPANGLED BANNER. 
 
 O friends, have you seen what a terrible foe 
 
 Is draining, corrupting the life of the nation? 
 How the bravest and best by its power are laid 
 low, 
 And peaceful homes blighted with dark deso- 
 lation. 
 
 And how many strong cries 
 Have gone up to the skies, 
 That loved ones from danger and sin may 
 arise? 
 
 Cho. — And God in His mercy from ruin will save 
 "The land of the free and the home of 
 the brave." 
 
 O patriots, arise ! your loved country to save, 
 Do not stand idly by like an alien or stranger; 
 
 For the tyrant Intemperance the land will enslave, 
 And his chains are on thousands who know 
 not their danger. 
 
96 THE INVALID SINGER. 
 
 O, be true, brave and strong ; 
 Though the contest be long, 
 Our land must be cleansed from this 
 poisonous wrong. 
 
 And the Star-spangled Banner in triumph 
 
 shall wave 
 O'er the land of the free and the home of the 
 
 brave. 
 
 O, thus be it ever, that freemen shall stand 
 Between their loved homes and this sad degra- 
 dation. 
 Blest with virtue and peace may our heaven- 
 favored land 
 Praise the Power that hath made us a temper- 
 ance nation. 
 
 Then conquer we must, 
 For our cause it is just, 
 And this be our motto — "In God is our 
 trust" 
 
 And the Star-spangled Banner in triumph 
 
 shall wave 
 O'er the land of the free and the home of the 
 
 brave. 
 
WHERE VIOLETS GROW. 97 
 
 WHERE VIOLETS GROW. 
 
 Some careless word had touched her heart — 
 And childhood griefs are hard to bear — 
 An April shower had cleared the air, 
 
 And, like the gleam when shadows part, 
 I heard a whisper soft and low 
 Break through her tears: ''But then — I know 
 Where violets grow !" 
 
 O, happy secret all her own ! 
 
 Whose hidden wealth of bud and bloom, 
 Through every grief or passing gloom, 
 
 Its sweetness kept for her alone. 
 And never sorrow overflows, 
 Or burdens vanquish one who knows 
 Where heartsease grows. 
 
 There is a book whose silent tone 
 
 Hath wondrous power to make me glad, 
 And life is never wholly sad ; 
 
 I have a secret all my own, 
 
 One place — it is not far to go — 
 "The shadow of a Rock; " — I know 
 Where violets grow ! 
 
 Jiuie, 1880. 
 
98 THE INVALID SINGER. 
 
 CHILDREN'S SNOW-FANCIES. 
 
 "Bessie," said little Willie, 
 " When yesterday it snowed, 
 
 I was looking out for papa, 
 And ran far down the road. 
 
 " I thought I saw him coming, 
 But 'twas only Mr. Gray, 
 
 Who said, < I guess Old Woman 
 Is picking geese today.' 
 
 " So snow must be geese-feathers, 
 Though I'm sure I do not know 
 
 Why, if it is but feathers, 
 They always call it snow ? " 
 
 " No, that's not it," said Bessie ; 
 
 " I watched it for an hour, 
 And what I think it looks like 
 
 Is fairies sifting flour. 
 
 " The funny little fairies, 
 We read about in books, 
 
 I'm almost sure they're sifting, 
 So much like flour it looks." 
 
 "But better still," said Mary, 
 " Than flour and all such things, 
 
CHILDREN'S SNOW-FANCIES. 99 
 
 I think it is, to call it 
 
 The down from angels' wings. " 
 
 " Your thoughts are very pretty, 
 I scarcely think they're true," 
 
 Said Mary's brother Bertie ; 
 " I'll tell you something new : 
 
 " Those soft, white clouds of summer 
 We've often seen, you know, 
 
 In little bits have broken, 
 
 And falling down, make snow." 
 
 "One day I asked my father," 
 
 Said gentle Lily Strong; 
 " He said it was a blanket 
 
 To keep the wheat-plants warm. 
 
 "But still I think in Heaven 
 They must have snow like this ; 
 
 It is the angels' emblem 
 Of purity and peace. 
 
 " They send it down to show us 
 
 That, in our life below, 
 We should have thoughts and actions 
 
 Pure as the falling snow." 
 
 November, 1876. 
 
ioo THE INVALID SINGER. 
 
 BEHEADED RHYMES. 
 
 [One of a series of poems similarly constructed by the 
 young people in the Chicago Advance. The word for the 
 first line of each triplet must fit the second and third lines 
 by dropping the first letter each time. The word for the 
 second line of the last verse is an old English word, some- 
 what obsolete.] 
 
 A PASTORAL. 
 
 The broad fields of , 
 
 In the midsummer's , 
 
 Are golden with promise of plenty to 
 
 The breezes soft , 
 
 Brings the cattle's faint 
 
 Its musical sound to the far distance 
 
 By the brook in the , 
 
 Stand Jane and her , 
 
 With the sunshine around and the willow- 
 boughs , 
 
 John lingers to , 
 
 Idly twirling his , 
 
 Though there's plenty of work that he ought to 
 be . ' 
 
 Her fancy 
 
 The maiden stands 
 
 A pool in the brook as a clear mirror 
 
BEHEADED RHYMES. ioi 
 
 But bright, merry 
 From under her — 
 
 With love's fire are turning poor John's heart 
 to . 
 
 Gazing too, in the 
 
 " There's a fine-looking ," 
 
 Stammers he, feeling much like an overgrown 
 
 Trying poetry to 
 
 While says she with a , 
 
 " Indeed ! can it be that you've just found it 
 
 ? : > 
 
 " But joking 
 
 I'll say for my 
 
 I never was fond of the flatterer's 
 
 " Then let me ," 
 
 With a soberer . 
 
 •' For I love a sweet maiden, and you are the 
 
 " With red lips so 
 
 My feelings you're . 
 
 O, do not against me your kind heart be ! " 
 
102 THE INVALID SINGER. 
 
 Jenny, blushing, is 
 And John listens — 
 
 She murmurs, *• You know, John, I wish you no 
 
 Then his shyness has , 
 
 " Though rough I'm no , 
 
 Will you marry me, darling, and so be my 
 
 While their hearts gladly , 
 
 Jenny smiling says, " , 
 
 If I give you an inch you of course take an 
 {" 
 
 ANSWERS TO BEHEADED RHYMES. 
 
 Wheat. Blowing. Clover. Chat. Amus- 
 ing. Flashes. Glass. Spout. Apart. Atone. 
 Charming. Still. Flown. Swell. 
 
 March, 1875. 
 
 TAKE HOLD OF MY HAND. 
 
 "Take hold of my hand," says the little child, 
 When the way is dark, and the snow is piled 
 Thick on the path, and the wind is wild ; 
 " Papa, take hold of my hand." 
 
TAKE HOLD OF MY HAND. 103 
 
 With her fingers clasping his hand so strong, 
 She bravely and cheerfully steps along, 
 Having no fear of going wrong, 
 For papa has hold of her hand. 
 
 "Take hold of my hand," says the convert young, 
 Filled with the love of the Holy One, 
 Looking for strength to the Saviour alone ; 
 
 " Jesus, take hold of my hand." 
 He will give grace to meet every foe, 
 Through rivers of sorrow unhurt we may go, 
 A blessing is promised in weal or in woe, 
 
 If Jesus has hold of our hand. 
 
 "Take hold of my hand," says the aged one ; 
 Through the shadow of years she is tottering on, 
 And her race of life she has nearly run ; 
 
 "Saviour, take hold of my hand." 
 Dim has the earth to her eyes become ; 
 She eagerly looks toward her heavenly home, 
 And longingly cries, as the child has done, 
 
 " Father, take hold of my hand." 
 
 Take hold of my hand, O Saviour dear, 
 Temptation or trial will then cause no fear ; 
 In joy or in sorrow be Thou ever near, 
 And never let go of my hand. 
 
104 THE INVALID SINGER. 
 
 For joy is brighter and trouble is less, 
 And toil is a pleasure and life a success, 
 If Thou dost still guide us, still comfort and 
 bless; 
 Saviour, hold fast to my hand. 
 February, 187 1. 
 
 HOW IT COMES. 
 
 I hear a robin singing, 
 
 Clear, through the falling rain, 
 
 Our God is working in the earth, 
 And Spring is come again. 
 
 Do birds and budding maples, 
 
 And patient grass and grain, 
 Know that the Spring comes on through 
 clouds, 
 
 Fierce winds and falling rain ? 
 
 And shall not God's dear children 
 Well know, that life's best gain 
 
 Must be wrought out thro' weary days 
 Of patient grief and pain ? 
 
 Sing on, O happy robin ! 
 
 Our hearts take up the strain, 
 
THE NEW YEAR'S GIFTS. 105 
 
 For God is working in the earth, 
 And Spring has come again. 
 
 March, 1885. 
 
 THE NEW YEAR'S GIFTS. 
 
 The bright New Year dawns fair and clear, 
 Undimmed by past or future fear ; 
 We cannot know if joy or woe 
 It holdeth for us as we go. 
 
 Hid from our eyes its darker skies, 
 And all the bright a glad surprise — 
 But on its wings to all it brings 
 These beautiful and wondrous things: 
 
 Some day will go the frost and snow, 
 And southern breezes lightly blow ; 
 To brown old earth comes a new birth, 
 All warmth and greenness, life and mirth ; 
 
 Sunlight and showers, and fair Spring flowers, 
 And bird-songs fill the golden hours 
 From night till noon — and all too soon 
 Sweet May slips softly into June. 
 
io6 THE INVALID SINGER. 
 
 Then lilies show their silver snow, 
 And crimson roses gleam and glow, 
 While one by one the fair fruits turn 
 Flushed cheeks to kisses of the sun. 
 
 On hill and plain the ripening grain 
 Waves in the summer breeze or rain • 
 And all the day the mowers' play 
 Sweetens the air with new-mown hay. 
 
 But ah ! the days of bloom and blaze, 
 When smiles the sun through smoky haze, 
 When frosts come down and grass is brown, 
 And royal Autumn takes her crown. 
 
 Lighting the land on every hand, 
 All red and gold the maples stand ; 
 Till rough winds call, and one and all 
 The bright leaves float away and fall. 
 
 Then — ice and snow, and firelight glow, 
 Starlight, moonlight, whispers low, 
 Sleigh-bells clear, and Christmas cheer, 
 And then — another bright New Year ! 
 January, 1876. 
 
GOLDEN-WEDDING GREETING. 1 07 
 
 GOLDEN-WEDDING GREETING 
 
 Your home is filled tonight, dear friends — 
 
 The new home, fair and bright — 
 With friendly faces, joyful tones, 
 
 And loving hearts and light. 
 And as your outstretched hands are clasped 
 
 In greeting warm and true, 
 Each heart speaks from the earnest eyes, 
 
 And says: " God bless you," too. 
 For all our hearts are full tonight — 
 
 Are glad and full for you. 
 
 Together you have walked life's path, 
 
 And shared its smiles and tears, 
 Its cares and sorrows, hopes and joys, 
 
 For fifty changing years ; 
 And, as before your gaze tonight 
 
 The past way lies unrolled, 
 The westering sun breaks o'er the scene, 
 
 And lights it all with gold. 
 
 So, standing on the vantage height 
 
 Marked by this golden day, 
 The blessings of the past shine out; 
 
 Its shadows fade away. 
 
io8 THE INVALID SINGER. 
 
 Less of life's thorns and briers seem yours, 
 More of its fruits and flowers ; 
 
 And, like the dial, you tonight 
 Mark but the sunny hours. 
 
 We know not what of joy or grief 
 
 Your future days may fill, 
 But " Hitherto the Lord hath heiped, ,, 
 
 And He will keep you still. 
 The path leads upward all the way, 
 
 And guidance will be given, 
 Until you step from the home on earth 
 
 To our Father's home in Heaven. 
 November •, 1877. 
 
 LIFTED UP. 
 
 MYRTA E. PALMER, AUGUST 2 1, 1 88 1, AGED II, 
 
 The Shepherd guideth His whole dear flock, 
 
 As they journey to pastures fair, 
 And calls to the straying and cheers the faint, 
 
 With an ever watchful care. 
 But the lamb whose faltering feet, perchance, 
 
 The wayside thorns have pressed, 
 He draws to His side with a tender word, 
 
 And lifts it up to His breast. 
 
LIFTED UP. 109 
 
 And a loving Father who leads His child, 
 
 And looking beyond doth see 
 The path lead into a rocky waste 
 
 Where danger and pain may be, 
 Will lift him up e'er the little feet 
 
 Can stumble or wander wide, 
 And carry him over in His strong arms, 
 
 To the joy on the further side. 
 
 And your own darling's beautiful face, 
 
 For whose vanished light you grieve, 
 Aheady the patient sweetness wore 
 
 That only sufferings leave. 
 And for her dear sake you will smile at length 
 
 That the stronger friend she knew 
 Has lifted her up from the paths of earth, 
 
 And keepeth her safe for you. 
 
 And since most near to the Shepherd's side, 
 
 And freest from vague alarms, 
 That sheep walks ever whose little lamb 
 
 Is held in its kindly arms, 
 So she who is lifted and you who are led 
 
 Need now be little apart, 
 If you hold but close to His loving hand, 
 
 Who carries your child on His heart. 
 
HO THE INVALID SINGER. 
 
 JESUS OUR STRENGTH. 
 
 I am thine, my blessed Lord, 
 Thou hast died for me. 
 
 All I have and all I am 
 Now belong to Thee. 
 
 Give me of Thy heavenly store 
 
 Grace to love and serve Thee more. 
 
 Let Thy blood, a cleansing flood, 
 Make me pure and free. 
 
 In Thy love and fulness wide, 
 All my imperfections hide ; 
 Ever in my heart abide, 
 All in all to me. 
 
 Oft methinks I hear Thy voice — 
 
 " I have died for thee; 
 What hast thou today, my child, 
 
 Wrought in love for me ? " 
 Only little duties done, 
 Trials borne and victories won ; 
 Small to show, yet this I know, 
 
 They were done for Thee. 
 
 Guided ever by Thy love, 
 All my way is bright ! 
 
THE SOWS SUPREMACY. in 
 
 Burdens Thou dost give me, Lord, 
 Borne for Thee, are light. 
 
 While I closely cling to Thee, 
 
 What can harm or hinder me ? 
 
 Every day a little way 
 
 Nearer Heaven and Thee ! 
 
 So I'll gladly journey on 
 
 Toward my heavenly home, 
 Walking in Thy strength alone 
 
 Till the end shall come. 
 Then, when Thy dear face I see, 
 This shall be my only plea — 
 " I have tried, but Thou hast died ! 
 Died, dear Lord, for me." 
 January, 1874. 
 
 THE SOUL'S SUPREMACY. 
 So now, thou dost withdraw thy fealty, 
 My Body, trained to do thy master's will, 
 And all the implements which I have used 
 Refuse my bidding ? Aye ; but think not thou 
 To hold me fettered with thee to the couch ! 
 
H2 THE INVALID SINGER. 
 
 Thou hast the earth-stain on thee, and the brand 
 Of servitude ; should I, who am free-born — 
 Whose right it is to rule — submit to thee, 
 And narrow all my life in four dim walls ? 
 
 Thou hast the power to seize the pleasant gate 
 
 Of outward sight, through which I journey forth 
 
 By open casement, or the printed page. 
 
 But I have vision of my own, and fields 
 
 Of breadth and beauty where I need thee not. 
 
 Pains? Yes, I feel the pains; they do but serve 
 To mind me of thy presence and thy needs. 
 Thou hast been true of old, and I have grown 
 Familiar w r ith thy service — none the less, 
 Thou canst not have the mastery ! One link 
 Alone remains by which I use thee now. 
 The channel of the brain where thought is born; 
 Reach not for that or I will cast thee off 
 Forevermore! No memory abides 
 Of days before I met thee; but a life 
 More true and full, more widely free and bright 
 Than any thy companionship hath brought, 
 Will follow on the parting. Thou art warned ! 
 I have no fixed, eternal need of thee ! 
 February, 1881. 
 
A JUNE BLOSSOM. 113 
 
 A JUNE BLOSSOM.* 
 
 In the midst of the fresh, sweet June, 
 When the earth was wrapped about, 
 Through the shining day and the starry night, 
 With growth and gladness and life and light, 
 With blooming roses and sunshine bright, 
 The light of her life went out. 
 
 Peaceful and still she lay, 
 
 Earth and its suffering past ; 
 With the fair, white brow and the lips caressed 
 By the touch of the angel that bringeth rest, 
 The blue eyes hidden — but God knows best, 
 
 Safely at home at last. 
 
 "As a little child," she went, 
 
 No shadow of grief or fear, 
 But peacefully, trustfully passed away, 
 As the sweet, pink apple-blooms fall in May, 
 (Fragile and fragrant and fair as they) 
 
 Awaiting the fruitage near. 
 
 We laid her away to rest ; 
 And over the sunny head 
 Roses bloom through the summer's prime, 
 
 * Sister Louise, who left us June 18, 1S72. 
 
114 THE INVALID SINGER. 
 
 And soft and low in the fresh springtime 
 Sweet hyacinth bells, with their silvery chime, 
 Ring for the fair young dead. 
 
 An echo tender and sweet 
 
 Of the song the angels sing. 
 Our ears are holden, or we might hear 
 The anthem, welcoming glad and clear 
 To the palace-home and her Father dear, 
 
 The daughter of the King. 
 
 A crown rests light on her brow, 
 
 The beautiful face is bright 
 With the perfect joy that the ransomed know, 
 And robes she wears like the shining snow 
 Falling so tenderly, soft and slow, 
 
 Over her grave tonight. 
 
 BEYOND. 
 
 JUVENTAS. 
 
 I ran along the morning shore, 
 
 Where waves were singing evermore ; 
 
 The sea-birds in the sunny sky, 
 
 Like eager thoughts, sprang white and high; 
 
 My life was like the rising tide — 
 
 Unfathomed, free and wide. 
 
BEYOND. 115 
 
 I wondered at the shining sails — ■ 
 They breathed the swift joy of the gales, 
 And speeding outward, far and dim, 
 They slipped beyond the world's bright rim; 
 What unknown Hope with fairer sign, 
 Lay on that mystic, azure line ? 
 
 Gold sands and glittering bay, 
 
 A present glory lay ; 
 
 O foolish, flying ships ! I said, 
 
 Why should they sail away ? 
 
 SENECTUS. 
 
 I journeyed by the Western sea ; 
 Gray, cold and vast it seemed to me. 
 Scarred cliffs rose up to guard the land ; 
 My feet toiled in the yielding sand, 
 All hue from earth and sky had fled, 
 For youth and joy were dead. 
 
 What wonder blossomed on my sight ! 
 The rifted clouds were gates of light, 
 And level glories broad and sweet 
 Spanned the dark waters to my feet ! 
 One far ship, like a white-winged soul, 
 Sailed in that pathway to the goal. 
 
Ii6 THE INVALID SINGER. 
 
 Oh, gates of glad surprise, 
 For sunset-turning eyes ; 
 Oh, happy ship that sped away 
 And vanished in the skies ! 
 March, 1879. 
 
 A CHRISTMAS CAROL. 
 
 FOR MY LITTLE SABBATH-SCHOOL GIRLS. 
 
 The bells ring out for Christmas, 
 With chiming glad and clear, 
 
 And happy greetings, gifts and smiles 
 Are passing far and near. 
 
 And it is all for mem'ry 
 
 Of one night long ago, 
 When God's first Christmas gift to earth 
 
 Lay in a manger low. 
 
 And the best of all the gladness — 
 The Christmas joy and cheer — 
 
 Is still that Christ of Bethlehem 
 Is living now and here. 
 
ON A SILVER CLOCK. 117 
 
 He comes to us with blessings 
 
 Which cannot fade or dim, 
 And we will give our heart's best love 
 
 A birthday gift to Him. 
 
 December 25, 1877. 
 
 ON A SILVER CLOCK, 
 
 MY LITTLE FRIEND. 
 
 He has two little, shining feet, 
 And runs the livelong day 
 
 As ceaselessly and tirelessly 
 As if it all were play. 
 
 His cricket song above the hearth 
 Cheers on my every task ; 
 
 And information he will give 
 Whenever I may ask. 
 
 That he is "lettered" one can tell 
 
 By glancing at his face, 
 And all his works are widely known 
 
 For nicety and grace. 
 
 And yet he shows no pride because 
 Of his most favored case, 
 
n8 THE INVALID SINGER. 
 
 But ever holds his slender hands 
 Before his modest face. 
 
 If you would regulate your life 
 To this same cheerful key, 
 
 Your hands move only to good works, 
 Your time pass usefully. 
 March, 1878. 
 
 THE SOLDIERS' GRAVES. 
 
 We sound a dirge for the heroes brave, 
 And twine our flowers for the soldiers' grave 
 An outward symbol of gifts more dear, 
 :||A grateful thought and a tender tear. ||: 
 
 Each humble mound hath a living voice, 
 And under the sorrow our hearts rejoice; 
 They died that our eyes to-day might see 
 :||A land at rest and a people free. || 
 
 All fragrant and fair are the flowers we set 
 
 On the green of the soldiers' grave ; 
 Garlands where grief and sad regret, 
 Gratitude, honor and praise have met, 
 Proofs of a love which cannot forget — 
 Slumber in peace, ye brave ! 
 
SABBATH EVENING. 1 19 
 
 Above in the sunshine, can ye see 
 The folds of the old flag wave ? 
 
 Under its sway, from shore to sea, 
 
 Lieth the nation, united, free. 
 
 Your's and our God's shall the glory be; 
 Slumber in peace, ye brave ! 
 
 May, 1880. 
 
 SABBATH EVENING. 
 
 The fair, sun-woven vail of light 
 That screens from earth the infinite 
 Withdraws beyond the glowing west; 
 Its fingers light the hills 1 low crest, 
 And pure and calm, serenely high, 
 The still moon climbs the eastern sky. 
 
 Earth folds her hands upon her breast, 
 With heavenward face of peaceful rest. 
 A far bell lifts her wordless prayer 
 Through the rapt silence of the air ; 
 And o'er her bends in wide reply, 
 The unknown depth of starry sky. 
 
 Amid these leafy paths of green, 
 There breathes a Presence all unseen, 
 
120 THE INVALID SINGER. 
 
 Like that which walked the garden-ways 
 At evening time in Eden days ; 
 And in the twilight, hushed and dim, 
 My heart in gladness speaks with Him. 
 
 October, 1879. 
 
 THE GRACE OF RECEIVING. 
 
 To give is highest ; every wakening soul 
 
 Feels inward stirrings of its royalty, 
 
 And thinks to stand at length with largess 
 free, 
 Dispensing to the world its liberal dole ; 
 And love's most earnest need and utmost goal 
 
 Is but to spend itself eternally. 
 
 Yea, God, supremest Love, of need must be 
 "The giving God" — true fountain of the whole. 
 But souls which fain would give as angels do 
 
 Love so can conquer with its mighty touch 
 That empty hands to the beloved and true 
 
 They reach to take, and give the best to 
 such. 
 Dear friends of mine, thus can I bring to you 
 
 The Lord's " more blessed" and his " inas- 
 much." 
 
 1883. 
 
HIS DWELLING-PLACE. 121 
 
 HIS DWELLING-PLACE. 
 
 O Christ, my Master and my King ! 
 
 How can such wonder be — ■ 
 That Thou the Lord of all the earth 
 
 Should'st make Thy home with me? 
 
 That not alone in moments rare, 
 
 When faith is strong and free, 
 And love has but to reach her hand 
 
 To feel it clasped by Thee ; 
 But day by day, through vexing cares, 
 
 Through weak distrust and sin, 
 Thou dost not leave the humbled heart 
 
 Where Thou hast entered in. 
 
 If such Thy word, O Friend divine, 
 . And Thou dost love so well, 
 How must I haste to furnish forth 
 
 The house where Thou dost dwell! 
 How must I strive to banish self, 
 
 And worldly sovereignty, 
 That Thy strong love may widen out 
 
 The narrow walls for Thee ! 
 
 And daily must I guard the door 
 From envy, fret and strife, 
 
122 THE INVALID SINGER, 
 
 That so a quiet house may hold 
 The Prince of Peace and Life. 
 
 And if no shades of night obscure 
 The skyward windows free, 
 
 The steadfast light of Heaven shall keep 
 A sunny home for Thee. 
 
 O poor and low the vassal's hut, 
 
 Yet if Thou reignest there, 
 Bring in the riches of Thy grace 
 
 And make Thy dwelling fair ! 
 
 May, 1884. 
 
 GOING TO ROME. 
 
 "That I may have a prosperous journey [or have my 
 way smoothed} to come unto you." Paul's letter to the 
 Romans. " Not knowing the things that shall befall me." 
 
 A brother heart at Corinth, 
 
 Warm through the mist of years, 
 Still pulses through the written words 
 
 With human hopes and fears. 
 He asks a smoothe'd pathway, 
 
 That he may shortly come 
 Where hopes and prayers and longing heart 
 
 Had gone before : to Rome. 
 
GOING TO ROME. 123 
 
 He journeys to Jerusalem, 
 
 God's hand to veil his eyes ; 
 He cannot see the temple mob, 
 
 The blows and maddened cries, 
 The judgment halls where he must stand 
 
 To answer for his life, 
 Nor yet the weary prison years, 
 
 With his hot zeal at strife. 
 
 Long days of ocean tossing, 
 
 Keen peril, toil and pain, 
 While sounded ever in his ears 
 
 The clanking of his chain. 
 That anguished night of tempest, 
 
 And shipwreck with the day ; 
 Were these the prosperous journey? 
 
 Was this the smoothed way ? 
 
 Yet in Antonia's castle 
 
 An unknown joy should swell, 
 When in the night the Lord stood by 
 
 And lit the prison cell. 
 And for the hour of shipwreck 
 
 That angel word should come ; 
 " Fear not, lo ! God hath given thee all 
 
 Who sail with thee to Rome." 
 
124 THE INVALID SINGER. 
 
 He could not see from Corinth 
 
 The waiting throng which stands 
 In dark Melita's isle, to meet 
 
 His healing words and hands. 
 Nor yet the eager Christians, 
 
 Far on the Appian road, 
 Whose loving words new courage bring, 
 
 And grateful thanks to God. 
 
 And "Paul the aged" in his chains 
 
 Should spread the truth in Rome, 
 With God's own gladness for his strength, 
 
 God's sheltering love for home. 
 O human-hearted hero! 
 
 We see thee through the years, 
 With hearts of rising courage, 
 
 And eyes of loving tears. 
 
 We also follow after 
 
 The Master of us all ; 
 We, too, go on, " not knowing 
 
 The things which shall befall." 
 We ask a "prosperous journey ; " 
 
 There come the tempest shocks. 
 We pray for smoothed pathways, 
 
 But find the thorns and rocks. 
 
GOING TO ROME. 125 
 
 Yet we, too, our brother, 
 
 Have found the Lord stand by ; 
 We hear His "Fear not !" in the dark, 
 
 And know the Christ is nigh. 
 And for our dimmer vision, 
 
 Shall Heaven's light make plain 
 How paths of wider service 
 
 Led through the gates of pain. 
 
 April, 1885. 
 
^^^^ 
 
 m