'A 
 
 ftfl. "'•;7^\ 
 
 
 LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 
 
 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 
 
?v^ 
 
 
 
LIVING PICTURES 
 
 (STljnrcl) of tl)e ^olg (JTommunian, 
 
 OTHER THOUGHTS IN VERSE. 
 
 BY 
 
 / 
 
 KATHARINE INGMIRE. 
 
 St 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 ANSON D. F. RANDOLPH & COMPANY, 
 
 900 BROADWAY, COR. 20th ST. 
 
 7? 
 
X** 
 
 Copyright, 1878, by 
 Anson D. F. Randolph & Company. 
 
" In a good work our hopes should be high in 
 the beginning, however we may fall short in the 
 end. When Christ is the sure foundation-stone, 
 elect and precious, we may piously trust that 
 the temple of living stones may arise, animated 
 by His Spirit, adorned by His grace, bound 
 together by His love, and everywhere inscribed. 
 Holiness to the Lord" 
 
 [Dr. Muhlenberg's address at the laying of 
 the corner-stone of the Church of the Holy Com- 
 munion, New York, July 24, 1844.] 
 
^xtintt. 
 
 Coming to the Church of the Holy Com- 
 munion thirty years after the words I have 
 quoted were spoken by its first pastor, and 
 carefully observing its work, I soon felt that 
 the hopes must have been high indeed in the 
 beginning that had not been already more 
 than realized. On expressing my feelings in 
 " Dreamland Church in Stone," I found I 
 had only echoed the thoughts of hundreds, 
 many of whom thanked me so warmly for 
 that expression, and still ask for copies of 
 it, that I have been tempted to send forth 
 this volume (in aid of one of the many chari- 
 ties of the church), which I affectionately in- 
 scribe to the " dear, familiar friends" who 
 now gather around me, and make me feel 
 that I can no longer say with truth that I am 
 a " lone, strange worshipper." 
 
 K. I. 
 
 (5) 
 
Smmtowfl (£\mxt\x in Mm. 
 
 THOUGHTS ON THE CHURCH OF THE HOLY COM- 
 MUNION, NEW YORK. 
 
 " This shall be my rest forever ; here will I dwell, for I have a de- 
 light therein." 
 
 A Dreamland Church once stood for me 
 
 Within a charming book ; 
 I never thought on church so fair 
 
 With earthly eyes to look ; 
 But when the last awaking came, 
 
 And death's long sleep was o'er, 
 I hoped a fairer still to see 
 
 Upon the eternal shore. 
 
 A stranger in the city, I 
 
 Set out to find a home, 
 And wandered till I hearcl a bell 
 
 That said so plainly, " Come," 
 
 (9) 
 
10 Dreamland Church in Stone. 
 
 I could but choose to follow on, 
 
 Drawn by a sound so sweet, 
 And thank the Lord, who to this place 
 
 First led my weary feet. 
 
 For rest, and sweetest rest I found 
 
 Within the dear church-wall 
 Where Mammon is exalted not, 
 
 Where God is all in all. 
 Where praises flow as freely as 
 
 The blessings God doth give ; 
 Where Christ's own poor are feasted, and 
 
 The poor in spirit live. 
 
 Where kindly deeds show forth the thanks 
 
 The loving lips express ; 
 Where alms " lend wings to prayer," and make 
 
 A church that God doth bless. 
 Where I, an unknown worshipper 
 
 Within the holy place, 
 Have sweet communion found, though not 
 
 One dear, familiar face. 
 
Dreamland Church in Stone. II 
 
 The loved and lost seem very near, 
 
 The Saviour nearer still ; 
 The Comforter comes down to me 
 
 And shows the Father's will, 
 And with the unknown choir around 
 
 I join the choir above, 
 And " Holy, Holy, Holy," sing, 
 
 And taste the feast of love. 
 
 Now, next the church where I was born 
 
 God's child and heir to be, 
 That gave through all my early years 
 
 Her tender care to me, 
 I love the dear and precious church 
 
 I found in sorrow's day, 
 That seemed to hold a wondrous power 
 
 To charm my grief away. 
 
 And I — a lone, strange worshipper — 
 
 When called afar to roam, 
 Leave not without a saddened heart 
 
 The place I call my home, 
 
12 Dreamland Church in Stone. 
 
 For I have found that Dreamland Church 
 
 Stands not alone in song ; 
 That all the beauty church doth need 
 
 Doth to this church belong. 
 
 God's favor rest upon their heads 
 
 Who laid the glorious plan, 
 And built a Dreamland Church in stone 
 
 To bless their fellow-man. 
 And may the bell for aye ring out 
 
 That says so sweetly, " Come," 
 And many seekers, through all time, 
 
 Find here their Father's home. 
 
Among the joys of heaven 
 The least may not be this j 
 
 The memory of holy hours 
 That came so near its bliss. 
 (13) 
 
giving gttHxti 
 
 IN THE 
 
 CHURCH OF THE HOLY COMMUNION. 
 
 As in the interior of the dome of St. Peter's 
 at Rome, stones of fair color present to the 
 eye pictures of beauty, so do the " lively 
 stones" in the Lord's house present pictures 
 very pleasant, and never to be forgotten. 
 
 THE CHILDREN'S BENCH. 
 
 u Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings Thou hast perfected 
 praise." 
 
 Sitting where the morning sun 
 
 Is brightened by its fall 
 Through the gay-tinted window 
 
 High in the church's wall, 
 
 US) 
 
1 6 Living Pictures. 
 
 I see a row of maidens ; 
 
 Such little maidens they ! 
 But none too young to listen, 
 
 Or creed and prayer to say. 
 
 I often look with pleasure 
 On some bright, happy face 
 
 That the canvas of Angelico 
 Or Raphael might grace. 
 
 You would think they understood 
 Every word the preacher said, 
 
 From the steady, earnest gaze, 
 And the pose of the head. 
 
 And I think they understand ; 
 
 I'll tell the reason why. 
 I only know one rule to judge 
 
 Both men and children by, 
 
 So I think they understand 
 
 When they practice what they hear, 
 
Living Pictures. iy 
 
 And that they do sometimes 
 To me is very clear. 
 
 For deeds of thoughtful kindness 
 I have known these children do, 
 
 And acts of self-denial 
 
 I have seen them practice too. 
 
 I once overheard them say, 
 " They loved their pastor so," 
 
 And when asked the reason, said, 
 " He's so good to us, you know." 
 
 Thus I see that love and pity 
 
 And gratitude have found 
 A lodgment in their tender hearts 
 
 Like seeds in fertile ground. 
 
 And I pray these little maidens 
 
 May daily grow in grace, 
 And practice holy preaching 
 
 Till they see the Saviour's face. 
 
 2 
 
1 8 Living Pictures. 
 
 That the faithful pastor's crown 
 As the stars of heaven may shine, 
 
 When God shall own his work, and say, 
 " Thy children all are Mine." 
 
THE LORD'S SUPPER. 
 
 " As oft as ye eat this bread, and drink this cup, ye do show the 
 Lord's death till He come." 
 
 " He that eateth my flesh, and drinketh my blood, dwelleth in mo 
 and I in him.'* 
 
 Somewhere in my travels a picture I've seen 
 Of Luke, the beloved, in a trance ; 
 
 His feet touch the earth, but a vision above 
 Has caught and made captive his glance. 
 
 The clouds have rolled back, as the waves of 
 the sea 
 Once rolled at the prophet's command, 
 And through the bright pathway that opens 
 beyond 
 Comes a glimpse of the promised land ; 
 
 And just at the entrance, the mother so meek, 
 Whom all generations call blest, 
 
 (19) 
 
20 Living Pictures. 
 
 Is standing and folding with tenderest care 
 The holy Christ-child to her breast. 
 
 And while the Apostle is gazing, intent, 
 The angels have come to his aid ; 
 
 The colors, so rare, to the finest are ground, 
 In wonderful order are laid. 
 
 His fingers are moved by the Spirit, unseen, 
 
 In reply to his earnest prayer, 
 That the vision now glowing in beauty above 
 
 May live on the canvas as fair. 
 
 The sun from the zenith is pouring 
 Its glory through each pictured pane, 
 
 And chasing the shades from each corner 
 And nook of the holy fane. 
 
 The sun never shineth at noontide 
 In this place, on the Lord's own day, 
 
 That shines not on loving disciples 
 Assembled to praise and pray, 
 
Living Pictures. 21 
 
 And partake of the holy emblems 
 Of Christ's precious body and blood, 
 
 That give strength to resist the evil, 
 And grace to follow the good. 
 
 The worshippers lowly are kneeling 
 As the words of the prayer are said, 
 
 That shall make a heavenly feast for them 
 Of the common wine and bread. 
 
 And as with the rest I am kneeling 
 
 A vision seems coming to me ; 
 Oh, would that the Spirit would aid me 
 
 To paint the picture I see. 
 
 'Tis not of the child, and the mother 
 With her exquisite, saintly grace, 
 
 But of One in the strength of manhood 
 With worn and agonized face. 
 
 The sins of the world are upon Him, 
 And now in the fierce noonday blaze 
 
22 Living Pictures. 
 
 He is hung, and the surging rabble 
 All mock and jest as they gaze. 
 
 The arms outstretched on the cruel cross 
 
 Were ever extended to bless ; 
 The feet now pierced were swift to go 
 
 At the cry and call of distress. 
 
 But hushed are the people's hosannas, 
 For envy and malice bear sway, 
 
 And fierce are the foes that stand nearest, 
 And timid the friends far away. 
 
 The vision is closing in blackness ; 
 
 The sun its bright face hath withdrawn, 
 Refusing to shine on the anguish, 
 
 The body so bleeding and torn. 
 
 But a voice seems to say from the darkness, 
 " My body was broken for thee ; 
 
 Forget not My dying commandment — - 
 Do this in remembrance of Me." 
 
Living Pictures. 23 
 
 My thoughts come again to the present, 
 
 And I gaze at the throng awhile 
 
 That is passing with softened footfall 
 To the altar, down the aisle. 
 
 Both the young and the old are going ; 
 
 The old must have grace to die ; 
 The young need much strength for the battles 
 
 With sin that before them lie. 
 
 And the strong and the weak are going ; 
 
 The weak of much patience have need, 
 And the strong need the consecration 
 
 Of love for their every deed. 
 
 The weary and heavily laden 
 
 Are going that they may find rest ; 
 
 The gay and light-hearted are going, 
 For there they may be more blest. 
 
 And I know, dearest Lord, Thou art there ; 
 Thou hast promised to meet Thine own ; 
 
24 Living Pictures. 
 
 To come to hearts that forget Thee not, 
 And in breaking of bread be known. 
 
 And I pray the lives of Thy children 
 May reflect the beauty of Thine, 
 
 As on Saint Luke's canvas the picture 
 Of the heavenly vision gave sign. 
 
 That life's work, by the aid of the Spirit, 
 
 May wear a far holier grace 
 Because, through the way Thou hast opened, 
 
 By faith we have seen Thy face. 
 
THE AGED WOMEN'S REST. 
 
 11 Abide with us, for the day is far spent and the night is at hand.' 
 
 THE dear Lord's day is ending ; 
 
 The sun, far on its way, 
 Is passing through the western gate 
 
 To crown the western day. 
 
 And gray the shades are falling, 
 Where fell such glorious light 
 
 It seemed as if some rays from Christ 
 Were lent to make it bright, 
 
 To give His waiting children 
 
 A foretaste of that day 
 When in the heavenly temple 
 
 He shall give light alway. 
 
 (25) 
 
26 Living Pictures. 
 
 Now as the shades grow darker 
 I turn mine eyes to where 
 
 The aged ones together meet 
 For evening praise and prayer. 
 
 I know not by what ways they came 
 To find this earthly rest ; 
 
 I only know, that having found, 
 They surely must be blest. 
 
 For memory lends her aid to read 
 The look that I see there ; 
 
 That look of saintly, calm repose 
 None but the old can wear. 
 
 A look that ever seems to say, 
 " The day is well-nigh done ; 
 
 The shades of night are coming fast, 
 But victory is won. 
 
 " The fight was long and steady, 
 The soldiers sorely tried, 
 
Living Pictures. 27 
 
 But in His strength they conquer 
 Who serve the Crucified." 
 
 As with folded hands they wait, 
 
 They scan the battle-field, 
 And praise the name of Him who made 
 
 The strongest foeman yield. 
 
 On wrinkled brow and bending form, 
 
 On failing ear and eye, 
 On heads of white and heads of gray 
 
 The growing shadows lie, 
 
 That tell of night and darkness 
 
 And the long, quiet rest ; 
 The flesh in dreamless slumber, 
 
 The soul among the blest. 
 
 Life's shadows lie behind them, 
 
 Death's shadow lies before, 
 But only through its darkness 
 
 They reach the shining door 
 
28 Living Pictures. 
 
 That opens to receive them 
 When shadows flee away, 
 
 And the King in all His beauty- 
 Is seen in perfect day. 
 
WRITTEN FOR THE CHILDREN IN THE BABIES* 
 
 SHELTER, IN CHARGE OF THE SISTERS 
 
 OF THE HOLY COMMUNION. 
 
 Air — " Adeste Fideles." 
 
 41 Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God." 
 
 SLEEP, baby, sleep, for thy Saviour is near ; 
 
 With Him for a watcher thou needest not fear ; 
 
 The tenderest babe in His love hath a part, 
 
 He keepeth the weakest the nearest His heart. 
 His arm doth uphold them, 
 His love doth enfold them, 
 
 Then sleep, baby, sleep, for thy Saviour is near. 
 
 Sleep, baby, sleep, for thy Saviour is near ; 
 No father or mother can hold thee so dear ; 
 Since for Him the innocents suffered and died, 
 He draweth young children all close to His side. 
 
 (29) 
 
30 Lullaby. 
 
 His arm doth uphold them, 
 
 His love doth enfold them, 
 
 Then sleep, baby, sleep, for thy Saviour is near. 
 
 Sleep, baby, sleep, for thy Saviour is near, 
 And sweet are His words as they fall on the ear, 
 " Forbid not the children to come unto Me, 
 For only the child-like My kingdom shall see/' 
 My arm shall uphold them, 
 My love shall enfold them, 
 Then sleep, baby, sleep, for thy Saviour is near. 
 
 Sleep, baby, sleep, for thy Saviour is near ; 
 
 Oh, serve Him forever, my baby, so dear. 
 
 Keep always as guileless as now in thy heart, 
 
 If thou from thy Saviour wouldst never depart. 
 His arm shall uphold thee, 
 His love shall enfold thee, 
 
 Then sleep, baby, sleep, for thy Saviour is near. 
 
Infant tongues should ever raise 
 Sweetest songs on Christmas days ; 
 In a manger, rudely made, 
 Christ a little child was laid. 
 
 Like the shepherds let us haste, 
 Seek the blessed Christ-child's face ; 
 Saw we never babe so sweet, 
 Let us worship at His feet. 
 
 There's a glory round His head, 
 Though so low and strange His bed ; 
 Like the magi, let us bring 
 
 Unto Him our offering. 
 
 (31) 
 
32 Infant's Christmas Song. 
 
 Hearts unstained by sin and shame, 
 Lips that ever praise His name, 
 Willing feet to walk His ways, 
 Minds to serve Him all our days. 
 
£ onq of Hoi**. 
 
 " I will be glad and rejoice in Thee ; yea, my songs will I make of 
 Thy name, Thou Most Highest." 
 
 Dear Lord, my grateful heart would raise 
 A thankful song of ardent praise, 
 But all the language that I know 
 Would fail my joy in Thee to show. 
 
 Without Thy love on earth to bless, 
 This earth were but a wilderness ; 
 No shadowing Rock, no living Bread, 
 No water from the Fountain-head. 
 
 For me, who in Thy love repose, 
 The desert blossoms as the rose ; 
 By living waters, pure and sweet, 
 Thou guid'st my weary > wayworn feet, 
 3 (33) 
 
34 Song of Praise. 
 
 To rest within the Rock's cool shade, 
 For heavenward pilgrims kindly made 
 A refuge and a safe retreat 
 From angry storms and fervid heat. 
 
 When looking back to Calvary 
 I view what Thou hast done for me ; 
 Thou drain'dst the cup of bitter woe 
 That mine with joy might overflow. 
 
 What can I render, Lord, for this 
 Thy dying love ? — my dear-bought bliss ? 
 I'll praise Thee while my life shall last, 
 I'll cling to Thee ! O hold me fast ! 
 
 And when Thy shadowy angel, Death, 
 Shall draw from me life's latest breath, 
 Then take me where I'll raise a strain 
 Worthy the Lamb that once was slain. 
 
W\u %ttntmnt. 
 
 G? 
 
 At one, my God, with Thee ! 
 What does this mean for me ? 
 
 A Friend so near 
 
 I seem to hear 
 His pleading unto Thee ; 
 
 Thy love so deep 
 
 It would not keep 
 This Friend from agony. 
 
 At one, my God, with Thee ! 
 
 What does this mean for me ? 
 Pardon and peace, 
 And sure release 
 
 From sin's dread penalty ; 
 A perfect dress — 
 Christ's righteousness — 
 
 In which Thy face to see. 
 
 (35) 
 
36 The Atonement. 
 
 At one, my God, with Thee ! 
 What must this mean for me ? 
 
 A narrow way, 
 
 Crossed day by day 
 With duties set by Thee : 
 
 A willing mind, 
 
 Ever resigned 
 To what Thou shalt decree. 
 
 At one, my God, with Thee ! 
 
 What must this mean for me ? 
 An active love, 
 By deeds to prove 
 
 I share Thy charity : 
 
 Patience and prayer, 
 And watchful care 
 
 Lest I should part from Thee. 
 
 At one, my God, with Thee ! 
 
 What shall this mean for me ? 
 After the strife 
 The endless life 
 
The Atonement. 37 
 
 And crown of victory ; 
 
 The promised rest 
 
 In mansions blest, 
 By Christ prepared for me. 
 
 At one, my God, with Thee ! 
 What shall this mean for me ? 
 
 A rapture sweet 
 
 When I shall meet 
 The Friend who rescued me, 
 
 And by His loss, 
 
 And through His cross, 
 Made me at one with Thee. 
 
Written for the Semi-Centennial Anniversary of St. Paul's 
 Church, Albany, N. Y., Oct. 21, 1877. 
 
 Once more, O Lord, Thy children come 
 To praise Thee in the dear church home 
 Which Thou hast made through years to seem 
 Like that bright path in Jacob's dream 
 Where swift-winged angels came and went, 
 On ministries of love intent. 
 
 For this, O Lord, Thy name we praise, 
 And joyful hallelujahs raise, 
 And make this earthly temple ring 
 With glad hosannas to our King. 
 
 For in this place, though all unseen, 
 
 Thy messengers of love have been, 
 
 Bringing Thy peace to men forgiven, 
 
 Returning with their thanks to heaven ; 
 (38) 
 
Hymn. 39 
 
 Rejoicing o'er each Christian birth, 
 Bearing each ransomed soul from earth. 
 
 Here Faith hath lent both eyes and wings 
 To mount and gaze on heavenly things ; 
 Here Hope hath brought her colors rare 
 And painted pictures wondrous fair, 
 And Love hath bound, with threefold cord, 
 Each unto each, all to their Lord. 
 
 Here earthly pilgrims, heavenward bound, 
 Such sweet repose and joy have found 
 That, though we may not see Thy face, 
 We know that Thou art in this place, 
 And by the blessings Thou hast given 
 Made it the very gate of heaven. 
 
 Be with us now as in past days ; 
 Guide us and keep us in Thy ways ; 
 Make every year, as past it flies, 
 Draw us still nearer to the skies, 
 That when life's journeys all are done 
 The heavenly Canaan may be won. 
 
40 Hymn. 
 
 Then in that home Thy name we'll praise, 
 And joyful hallelujahs raise, 
 And make Thy heavenly temple ring 
 With glad hosannas to our King. 
 
<fcaiat*r (Bartfl. 
 
 AWAKE, awake, and publish 
 
 The joyful news abroad ; 
 The sepulchre is empty, 
 
 And risen is the Lord. 
 The angels only wait, 
 
 Ere back to heaven they speed, 
 To tell the weeping mourners 
 
 The Lord is risen indeed. 
 
 Awake, awake, and follow, 
 
 The Master goes before 
 May greet thee in the garden, 
 
 Or meet thee on the shore ; 
 May join thee on life's journey, 
 
 Go with thee to the end, 
 With words of peace may cheer thee 
 
 And prove thy dearest Friend. 
 
 (41) 
 
42 Easter Carol. 
 
 Awake, awake, oh, sinner, 
 
 And let the Light shine in 
 That first upon this morning 
 
 Rose o'er a world of sin. 
 Wake from thy deadly slumber, 
 
 Thy Saviour bids thee rise 
 And follow where He leadeth 
 
 Until ye reach the skies. 
 
 Awake, awake, and publish 
 
 The joyful news around ; 
 From morning until evening 
 
 Prolong the welcome sound. 
 The Lord is risen indeed, 
 
 With joy let mortals say 
 Till He shall come in glory 
 
 At the last Easter day. 
 
WRITTEN ON SEEING A YOUNG AND LOVELY WOMAN 
 INTERRED IN A CITY CHURCH-YARD. 
 
 What is my new neighbor like, do you say, 
 That came to her home next my own to-day ? 
 In truth I know not whether dark or fair ; 
 If golden or brown or raven her hair. 
 
 I know those who bore her were sad of mien ; 
 They loved not the task that brought them, I 
 
 ween, 
 For the house is narrow and dark and chill, 
 And they brought her not of their own free 
 
 will ; 
 
 But an awful voice had bidden her come, 
 And she left her dear babes and friends and 
 home 
 
 (43) 
 
44 My New Neighbor. 
 
 To dwell through all time in the lonesome 
 
 place 
 Where friends may not enter, nor see her face. 
 
 And I know a quiet neighbor she'll be, 
 For all in that house rest so tranquilly ; 
 Not a sound can come through the fast-closed 
 
 door 
 Till time shall be over, and death no more. 
 
 And thoughts will come of my neighbor to- 
 night 
 
 As I close my window — put out the light. 
 
 Shall I think of the body, in death's embrace, 
 
 With closed eyes, sealed lips, and a pale, cold 
 face? 
 
 Nay! Rather I'll think of the soul's quick 
 
 flight 
 To its own bright home in mansions of light, 
 Where the Saviour stands by the open door, 
 Whom, not having seen, she hath loved before. 
 
My New Neighbor. 45 
 
 The Saviour knoweth all souls that are His, 
 And welcomes her gladly to realms of bliss ; 
 He bids her rest calmly in Paradise 
 Till the trumpet shall sound and the dead arise. 
 
 She is clothed in beauty celestial now ; 
 The seal of the ransomed set on her brow ; 
 The faithful departed are gathering near, 
 And voices of loved ones fall sweet on her ear. 
 
 So I'll think no more of my neighbor to-night 
 As out in the church-yard, still and white, 
 But radiant with joy, in communion sweet 
 With familiar friends at her Saviour's feet ; 
 
 And ready to greet, near the open door, 
 The coming friends she hath loved long before, 
 Who, entering there through the Saviour's 
 
 grace, 
 May behold evermore the dear one's face. 
 
Float lightly, oh, sea, on thy surface to-day, 
 The ship that is bearing our loved ones away. 
 Let thy gentle waves lull them as softly to 
 
 rest 
 As the mother's sweet song lulls the babe at 
 
 her breast. 
 When the storm-god shall come in his terrible 
 
 might 
 And lash thy dark waves to a sickening white ; 
 When they, in their agony, leap to the skies, 
 Then sink in deep waters with moaning and 
 
 sighs, 
 May the voice that had power over wild Gali- 
 lee 
 Bid the storm-god " be still/' whisper " peace " 
 
 unto thee ; 
 Then praises shall rise from both shores to 
 
 the Lord 
 Who ruleth the tempest and calm by His 
 
 word. 
 (46) 
 
Within the halls of memory- 
 Hang pictures of my life ; 
 
 Some lie in calm and peaceful ways, 
 Some 'mid the city's strife ; 
 
 Some tell of loved departed ones, 
 Some of a dear old home, 
 
 Others of fair and pleasant lands 
 Where I have chanced to roam. 
 
 And now again new pictures come 
 To claim a little space, 
 
 Nor shall those pictures ever fade 
 While memory holds her place, 
 
 Geneva, on her terraced side, 
 
 Lies bathed in glorious light, 
 
 Reflected in the lake's cool depths 
 
 As in a mirror bright. 
 
 (47) 
 
48 From Geneva to Watkins Glen. 
 
 And then that lake ! whose beauty 
 
 The night but half conceals ; 
 No pen or pencil paint the view 
 
 The light of day reveals. 
 Fair fields and vineyards, mountains 
 
 That tower to kiss the sky, 
 And lave their feet in waves whose hues 
 
 Are borrowed from on high. 
 
 And here and there a village fair 
 
 Lends brightness to the scene, 
 With Watkins like a diamond 
 
 In crown of emerald green. 
 Glen Alpha ! 'Tis with quickened pulse 
 
 We tread thy narrow ways, 
 And stop to look with wondrous awe, 
 
 Then follow still the Maze. 
 
 In Glen Cathedral's solemn aisle 
 We pause with reverent fear ; 
 
 Shut out from all the world, we feel 
 Its Architect is near. 
 
Front Geneva to Watkins Glen. 49 
 
 A choir of many waters 
 
 Its ceaseless song doth raise, 
 
 A choir that never wearies 
 Of its Creator's praise. 
 
 Did Senecas of old e'er think 
 
 Here the Great Spirit dwelt ? 
 And as they came within its walls 
 
 His sacred presence felt ? 
 We think it may be so, and yet 
 
 Short time have we for thought : 
 The things that are have to the Glen 
 
 Our willing footsteps brought. 
 
 O'er labyrinthine paths we move 
 
 Through scenes that charm the sight, 
 Scarce knowing which doth please us most, 
 
 Which give us most delight — 
 The pictures in the Shadow Gorge, 
 
 The moss upon the wall, 
 The mirrors in the Glen of Pools, 
 
 The rainbow in the Fall. 
 4 
 
50 From Geneva to Wat kins Glen. 
 
 With many a lingering look we turn, 
 
 Leaving the Glen behind ; 
 All left us of its beauties rare 
 
 Are pictures in our mind, 
 And greater love to God, who made 
 
 Our earthly home so fair, 
 And gave us eyes of faith to see 
 
 His footprints everywhere. 
 
M Christ is risen from the dead and become the firstfruits of them 
 that slept. For since by man came death, by man came also the resur- 
 rection from the dead." 
 
 M My soul fleeth unto the Lord before the morning watch." 
 
 WILL Easter ever come to me 
 
 As in the by-gone time 
 When nought but joyous, happy thoughts 
 
 Came with the early chime ? 
 
 Thoughts of a Saviour just arisen 
 Triumphant from the grave ; 
 
 Thoughts of the bright hopes newly born 
 In those He died to save. 
 
 Hopes that had died within the hearts 
 
 Of all that sorrowing band 
 When the loud, bitter cry was raised, 
 
 And darkness filled the land. 
 
52 Easter Thoughts. 
 
 When the bowed head and bleeding side 
 Proclaimed death's victory won ; 
 
 When the dark grave received their Lord, 
 And malice sealed the stone. 
 
 But " Christ is risen/' the angel said 
 
 To Mary, at the tomb, 
 And " Christ is risen " revived the hope 
 
 That perished in the gloom. 
 
 Last Easter came as bright and fair 
 
 As any since that time ; 
 The air as pure, the flowers as sweet, 
 
 And just as glad the chime. 
 
 But ah ! that joyous Easter chime 
 
 Fell on a dying ear ; 
 The last sound from the outer world 
 
 The dying one would hear, 
 
 For angels fair were leading her 
 From joys that earth afford, 
 
 Through the dark grave and gate of death 
 To meet her risen Lord, 
 
Easter Thoughts, 53 
 
 We wonder with what words of cheer 
 
 He met her on the way ? 
 And what the bliss to her revealed 
 
 In Paradise that day ? 
 
 We know not, nor can heart conceive 
 
 The glories of that place ; 
 We only know that heavenly joys 
 
 Seemed mirrored in her face. 
 
 We only know, as gathering clouds 
 Obscured that Easter dawn, 
 
 So darker shades than e'er before 
 Across our path were drawn. 
 
 And evermore with Easter morn 
 Will thoughts of sadness come, 
 
 Yet Christ, the Sun of Righteousness, 
 Hath shed around the tomb 
 
 Such rays of heavenly light and hope 
 To cheer the mourner's heart, 
 
 That to shut out all joy with grief 
 Would be the heathen's part. 
 
54 Easter Thoughts. 
 
 So with a firmer faith we grasp 
 The promise He has given, 
 
 And hope at the last Easter day 
 To meet the loved in heaven. 
 
 Easter Even, April 15, 1865. 
 
WRITTEN FOR THE MEMORIAL SERVICE OF WILLIAM 
 H. DE WITT, WHO BUILT THE CHURCH OF THE 
 HOLY INNOCENTS, ALBANY, N. Y., IN MEM- 
 ORY OF FOUR INFANT CHILDREN. 
 
 14 In Rama was there a voice heard ; lamentation, and weeping, and 
 great mourning ; Rachel weeping for her children, and would not be 
 comforted because they are not." 
 
 The mothers in Rama sank sweetly to rest, 
 With dear tender babes in their loving arms 
 
 pressed ; 
 No warning had they that the tyrant's dread 
 
 sword 
 Should make them first martyrs to Jesus, their 
 
 Lord. 
 
 The bright morning dawned o'er the country 
 so fair ; 
 
 A loud voice of wailing was heard on the air ; 
 
 (55) 
 
56 Hymn. 
 
 The mothers in Rama wept sore for the slain 
 They never should fold in their fond arms 
 again. 
 
 No comfort had they in their dark hour of 
 
 woe, 
 Nor knew that Jehovah had ordered it so, 
 Till lowly they sat at the dear Saviour's feet, 
 And drew from His teaching this lesson so 
 
 sweet — 
 
 That all who for Him ever suffered and died 
 Should with Him in glory forever abide, 
 And they who would enter that home unde- 
 
 filed, 
 In heart and in spirit must be as a child. 
 
 We bless Thee, O Lord, that the infant of days 
 May glorify Thee, and in death win Thee 
 
 praise ; 
 We thank Thee, O Lord, that when called to 
 
 depart 
 The aged may be as the child, pure in heart. 
 
Hymn. 57 
 
 That Thy faithful servant, now gone from our 
 sight, 
 
 In Paradise rests with the children of light ; 
 
 Oh, grant us Thy grace so to follow Thee here 
 
 That we, with Thy servant, in heaven may ap- 
 pear 
 
 Holy Innocent's Day, 1872. 
 
*' Whosoever shall not receive the kingdom of God as a little child, 
 he shall not enter therein." 
 
 We come again, as in past days, 
 To sing our joyful Christmas lays ; 
 No note of woe should mar the strain 
 The angels sang o'er Judah's plain. 
 
 We come again, as in past days, 
 To tell the wonders of His ways 
 Who took from earth an infant band 
 To praise Him in a fairer land. 
 
 To tell how Christ, for whom they died, 
 Drew little children to His side, 
 And in His loving arms did press, 
 And blessed, as only He can bless. 
 
 How mourning mothers from that day 
 
 " Thy will be done " have learned to say," 
 (58) 
 
Hymn, 59 
 
 And love to think their babes at rest 
 Upon the gentle Saviours breast. 
 
 And we would breathe a low, sweet strain 
 As in this place we meet again, 
 In memory of the faithful friend 
 Who, loving, served us to the end. 
 
 We also bless Thy holy Name, 
 Who art in every age the same, 
 That Thou dost gather unto Thee 
 All souls of child-like purity. 
 
 Here in the church he loved so well 
 Let Thy free Spirit ever dwell, 
 To cleanse and purify each heart 
 That in its worship takes a part. 
 
 So shall the work that he began 
 
 Be blessed unto his fellow-man ; 
 
 And ransomed souls shall sing Thy praise 
 
 With him through everlasting days. 
 
 Holy Innocent's Day, 1873. 
 
M Thanks be unto God for His unspeakable gift." 
 
 THERE'S a story told of an artisan 
 
 Who fashioned in metal well, 
 And showed his thanks for the talent God gave 
 
 By making His church a bell. 
 
 It rang out with joy to welcome his bride, 
 
 It rang for his children's birth ; 
 It tolled with a sad and solemn sound 
 
 When these treasures were laid in earth. 
 
 But a wondrous charm to its tongue was given 
 To soothe the woe in his breast ; 
 
 He knew by the comfort its sweet tones gave 
 That in giving he had been blessed. 
 
 And he grew to love with a strong, deep love, 
 
 The friend high up in the spire 
 (60) 
 
Consecrated Talents. 61 
 
 That seemed to call him from cares of earth 
 To holier things, and higher. 
 
 He thought of the joy his one gift had brought, 
 He thought of the Gift from heaven. 
 
 He thought of the thousands of dying men 
 To whom new life might be given. 
 
 And time and talent and all that he had, 
 Every thought and deed and word, 
 
 As thanks for His great unspeakable Gift 
 He laid at the feet of the Lord. 
 
 Then a wondrous charm to his tongue was 
 given 
 
 As he told the message of love, 
 And he knew by the peace that came to men 
 
 That his work was accepted above. 
 
We enter, Lord, with gladness 
 
 Thy sacred courts to-day ; 
 We banish thoughts of sadness, 
 
 And raise a thankful lay, 
 With cheerful hearts and voices 
 
 We raise the joyful strain, 
 And pray that Thou wilt bless us 
 
 Until we meet again. 
 
 In mercy Thou hast brought us 
 This bright, glad day to see, 
 
 And by Thy Spirit taught us 
 How we may live for Thee. 
 
 With cheerful hearts and voices 
 We raise the joyful strain, 
 
 And pray that Thou wilt bless us 
 
 Until we meet again. 
 (62) 
 
Anniversary Hymn. 63 
 
 In kindness Thou hast taken 
 
 Some loved ones from our eyes, 
 But only to awaken 
 
 With Thee in Paradise. 
 With cheerful hearts and voices 
 
 We raise the joyful strain, 
 And pray that Thou wilt bless us 
 
 Until we meet again. 
 
 And when on earth forever 
 
 These tongues shall silent be, 
 Then take us where we never 
 
 Shall cease from praising Thee. 
 With cheerful hearts and voices 
 
 We raise the parting strain, 
 And pray that Thou wilt keep us 
 
 Until we meet again. 
 
BRIGHT Easter Morn! sad memories 
 
 Come thronging with thy light. 
 Sad memories of sad, sad days, 
 
 And a far sadder night 
 When in the shadow of the grave 
 
 Our well-beloved lay, 
 And wrestled with the angel Death 
 
 Until the break of day. 
 
 Wrestled until the blessing came 
 
 Of everlasting peace, 
 And perfect rest from care and pain 
 
 'Mid joys that never cease. 
 Rest with the saints in Paradise, 
 
 Rest with the loved ones gone, 
 
 Rest with her Saviour, till shall break' 
 
 The last great Easter morn. 
 (64) 
 
Easter Memories. 65 
 
 Glad Easter bells ! sad memories 
 
 Are with your notes combined ; 
 One Easter morn thy merry tunes 
 
 Came floating on the wind, 
 Came floating through the casemen; 
 
 Unto the dying ear 
 Of one who never more on earth 
 
 Sweet melodies should hear, 
 
 For ere thy chimes had ceased to ring 
 
 The joyous Easter in, 
 Her spirit left its home of clay, 
 
 Of weakness, pain, and sin, 
 And cheered by heavenly music 
 
 From bright angelic bands, 
 She sought beyond the gates of death 
 
 " A house not made with hands." 
 
 Sweet Easter flowers ! sad memories 
 
 Are with thy beauties blent, 
 For flowers that through the hallowed fane 
 
 Their fragrant odors sent, 
 5 
 
66 Easter Memories, 
 
 Were brought to cheer the saddened home, 
 
 Where lay our sainted dead, 
 And speak to us of hope in death, 
 
 When hope in life had fled. 
 
 To speak, with sweetly silent voice, 
 
 The resurrection power 
 Of Him who from the earth's dark tomb 
 
 Had raised each beauteous flower. 
 Who, victor over Death and Hell 
 
 And o'er the insatiate grave, 
 Had risen, the firstfruits from the dead, 
 
 The Life, with power to save. 
 
 Dear Easter hopes ! sad memories 
 
 Shall gladden in thy light 
 As surely as the coming day 
 
 Dispels the shades of night. 
 As surely as the Light that broke 
 
 Upon the world that day 
 Brought life to view, and took from death 
 
 The bitterness away. 
 
Easter Memories. 67 
 
 Then in this light will we rejoice, 
 
 And sorrow not as those 
 Around whose friends, untinged with hope, 
 
 Death's darkest shadows close. 
 Ring out, ye bells, your gladdest lay ! 
 
 Still breathe of hope, ye flowers ! 
 The voice that to her heart spake peace, 
 
 Shall whisper " peace " to ours. 
 
Whenever we think or read of the Angel 
 at the Sepulchre an ideal always comes to 
 our mind ; an ideal so beautiful that it is ever 
 welcome to the place it has assumed.* 
 
 We saw it first when the artist was giving 
 the final touches to this grand creation of his 
 genius, and as we stood in awe before its ma- 
 jestic purity, could not but hope he might 
 long remain with us who could so embody 
 the spirit of beauty in " the beauty of holi- 
 ness." We saw it last in the " City of the 
 Dead/' where surrounding loveliness enhanced 
 every grace. Encircled by living green ; stand- 
 ing in bold relief against a background of 
 deepest blue, with just one ray of golden 
 
 * A monument, by Palmer, in the Albany Rural Cemetery, to the 
 memory of Mrs. Robert Lenox Banks. 
 
 (68) 
 
The Angel at the Sepulchre. 69 
 
 light from the western sky touching the face, 
 it was something one could not easily forget. 
 It seemed not like cold marble, but like a 
 living watcher over the sleeping dead, only- 
 waiting until the resurrection morn to speak 
 words of joy, and lead them to their risen 
 and ascended Lord. 
 
 Why come ye to this lower world, 
 
 Bright angel from above ? 
 Why leave the realms of glorious light, 
 
 Of purest joy and love, 
 To linger in the gloomy dawn 
 
 Beside an earthly tomb 
 Whose open door, with broken seal, 
 
 Shows but an empty room ? 
 
 No minister of wrath art thou, 
 To grasp the avenging sword ; 
 
 Not thine to execute on earth 
 The terrors of the Lord. 
 
 Though majesty doth sit serene 
 Upon thy lofty brow, 
 
yo The Angel at the Sepulchre. 
 
 Too near Love's throne thy place hath been 
 To lose Love's image now. 
 
 Why tarry then ? and who are they 
 
 The sun's first rays reveal ? 
 They surely can not roll the stone, 
 
 They dare not break Rome's seal ! 
 They pause in doubt — then hasten on 
 
 Toward the sacred place ; 
 In mute surprise they gaze around, 
 
 Then look upon thy face. 
 
 And this is why thou lingerest ? 
 
 Thou hast somewhat to tell 
 To these sad women at the tomb ! 
 
 Oh, it shall please them well, 
 For never yet bore messenger 
 
 Such words of holy cheer ! 
 " The Lord is risen, go seek Him hence, 
 
 Thou canst not find Him here." 
 
 The Lord is risen ! that glorious strain 
 Shall never die away 
 
The Angel at the Sepulchre. 71 
 
 Till thou shalt come with that dear One 
 
 At the last Easter day, 
 To bid the dead in Him arise 
 
 And with the quick ascend, 
 That they who sought an unseen Lord 
 
 May find a present Friend. 
 
(£M&vtn f # 1* §tm. 
 
 We praise Thee, O God ; 
 
 Thy children shall sing 
 With all things on earth 
 
 That worship their King, 
 While angels and cherubs 
 
 And seraphs do cry, 
 And Holy, thrice Holy, 
 
 Resound through the sky. 
 
 Prophets and martyrs, 
 Apostles praise Thee ; 
 
 The Church in all places 
 Wherever it be 
 
 Doth own Thee as Father, 
 Thy Son ever bless, 
 
 And both, with the Spirit 
 
 One God doth confess. 
 
 (72) 
 
Children s Te Deum. 73 
 
 Thou Christ, as the King 
 
 Of glory we own, 
 Who humbly to earth 
 
 Came down from Thy throne 
 To win for believers, 
 
 Through death's sharpest pain, 
 A home everlasting 
 
 In glory again. 
 
 Save, Lord, Thy people, 
 
 Thine heritage bless ; 
 Govern and keep us 
 
 From sin and distress. 
 Lord Jesus, have mercy ; 
 
 We trust in Thy name, 
 Have mercy upon us, 
 
 And save us from shame. 
 
i. 
 
 O BLESSED Lord Jesus, we sing to Thy praise 
 The sweetest glad songs that our voices can 
 
 raise. 
 With joy do we hasten Thy coming to greet, 
 And hailing Thee Saviour, bend low at Thy 
 
 feet. 
 
 Chorus. 
 The angels are singing Thy praise through the 
 
 sky, 
 Earth's glad voices ringing shall join theirs on 
 
 high; 
 Deep unto deep calleth, thanksgiving to raise, 
 And mountains and valleys break forth into 
 
 praise. 
 
 O blessed Lord Jesus, we heed not that Thou 
 Hast come to the earth in humility now ; 
 74) 
 
Christmas Carols. 75 
 
 We know that the prophets and sages of old 
 No splendor or pomp at Thy coming foretold. 
 
 O blessed Lord Jesus ? Thy coming to earth 
 Has given earth's children a glorious birth ; 
 Now God is our Father, our Brother Thou art, 
 Make quickly Thy home in each fond waiting 
 heart. 
 
 O blessed Lord Jesus, bright star of our night, 
 Make glad all the nations that walk in Thy 
 
 light. 
 Shine on in Thy brightness, the heathen to 
 
 bless, 
 Till all tongues united Thy name shall confess. 
 
j6 Christmas Carols. 
 
 II. 
 
 DOWN through the clouds in the silent night, 
 Far from their homes in glorious light, 
 Came fair angels to sing o'er the earth 
 The joyful news of the Saviour's birth. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 And the heavens rang 
 With the song they sang, 
 There is peace on the earth, good-will to man. 
 And glory to God in the highest. 
 
 The listening shepherds heard the sound, 
 And saw the wonderful light around, 
 And heard the voice of an angel say, 
 " There are glad tidings for you to-day." 
 
 They came in haste to the lowly place, 
 
 And looked with joy on the Christ-child's face ; 
 
 No offerings rare had they to bring, 
 
 But they worshipped Him as Lord and King. 
 
Christmas Carols, JJ 
 
 The magi wise, in the east afar, 
 Saw the light that seemed a guiding star, 
 And following, came where its radiance shed 
 A holy light round an infant's head. 
 
 The gifts they brought were costly and rare, 
 Such gifts as for great ones only are, 
 But they laid them at the infant's feet, 
 And deemed that for Him such gifts were 
 meet. 
 
 Oh, rich and wise, bring your gifts to-day, 
 And join with earth's poor ones to swell the 
 
 lay 
 That first was heard on that Christmas night, 
 When angels came from the realms of light 
 And the heavens rang 
 With the song they sang, 
 There is peace on earth, good-will to man, 
 And glory to God in the highest. 
 
78 Christmas Carols. 
 
 III. 
 
 Ring out, ring out, O Christmas bells ! 
 A tale of joy your music tells ; 
 A Saviour King was born to-day 
 To rule the hearts of men for aye. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 For this we join to swell the strain 
 The angels sang o'er Judah's plain ; 
 Glory to God, good-will to men 
 Shall rise and fill the heavens again. 
 
 O Lord of lords and King of kings, 
 Sweet peace and joy Thy presence brings; 
 We know the Father loved us well 
 To rescue thus our souls from hell. 
 
 But who can measure all the love 
 
 That brought Thee from Thy throne above, 
 
Christmas Carols. 79 
 
 With us to live, for us to die, 
 
 That we might dwell with Thee on high. 
 
 Dear Saviour, elder Brother, Friend, 
 Abide with us till life shall end ; 
 And then, when death shall set us free, 
 Within the kingdom won by Thee, 
 
 Earth's ransomed ones shall swell the strain 
 
 All worthy is the Lamb once slain, 
 
 " Honor and glory to receive 
 
 From all created things that breathe." 
 
What shall I do with Jesus, called the Christ? 
 This lone, strange man ! So sad and yet so 
 
 calm ; 
 So awful in His silent majesty 
 I fear the power He spake of may be His 
 To crush me if I do this evil deed. 
 For well I know 'tis evil. Fault there's none. 
 His innocence doth so envelope Him, 
 I could not think Him guilty if I would. 
 And yet methinks if He hath any power 
 r Twere never better used than now to hurl 
 Defiance at these envious, hateful Jews, 
 And wreak His vengeance on the coward crew 
 That e'en desert Him in His direst need. 
 I fain would save Him, for my heart is stirred 
 To pity it hath never known before. 
 Pity and Fear ! Strange feelings these for 
 
 Pilate ! 
 
 Shall I hold to them, and make my nobler 
 (80) 
 
Pilate s Question. 8 1 
 
 Conquer my baser self? Or shall I make 
 Myself a slave to serve these angry dogs 
 That cry for blood, and will not be appeased 
 Though blood were offered, if it be not His, 
 And grudge me if they be not satisfied? 
 
 Yet why should I — a Roman — lose one chance 
 For place or power to succor one so friend- 
 less ? 
 Deserted, save by a few weak women ; 
 One voice alone upraised to plead for Him, 
 And that the voice of one who may lose most 
 If I am merciful. From the vast throng 
 That followed where He went, and heard the 
 
 words 
 That fell as graciously upon their ears 
 As falls the evening dew on sun-scorched 
 
 flowers, 
 Comes not one sound to help me choose the 
 
 right, 
 Or strengthen good resolves. His blood — 
 they cry — 
 
 Be on us and our children. Let it be. 
 6 
 
82 Pilate's Question. 
 
 I'll wash my hands to prove my innocence; 
 Then yield Him to them. 
 
 What shall I do with Jesus ? Ever now 
 Between me and the things I look upon 
 Comes a clear vision of that pale, worn face, 
 With its last look of awful agony 
 That will not be put out in darkest night. 
 When sleep comes not, then is the vision there ; 
 And when sleep comes, then comes that face 
 
 in dreams. 
 When morning dawns and with its veil of 
 
 light 
 Shuts out the stars, it shuts not out from me 
 The dazzling brightness of those searching 
 
 eyes. 
 The burning glances of a thousand midday 
 
 suns 
 Upon my naked sight were not so hard to bear. 
 I could curse the nation that drove me on 
 To do the deed, conscience, seared though it 
 
 w r as, 
 Still told me I should bitterly repent. 
 
Pilate s Question. 83 
 
 Oh, would that I had known that day the 
 
 power 
 An outraged conscience doth possess to goad 
 The mind to madness — take all joy from life. 
 Banished, deserted, homeless, powerless, 
 Haunted forever by that face, and thoughts 
 Of that one deed that make me ever feel 
 That it were better I had not been born, 
 What can life hold for such a wretch as I ? 
 And death ? I dare not look upon it, 
 For ere 1 left the Syrian shore I heard 
 Christ's followers proclaim a risen Lord, 
 And reason well of judgment yet to come. 
 Can it be that in that dreaded future 
 Our places shall be changed ? I the culprit? 
 He the Judge? If I trembled even then 
 Before His gaze, where, where shall I hide me 
 If these things be true ? And that they are 
 I am as sure as of His innocence. 
 Oh, miserable man ! Comfortless ; hopeless ; 
 Trembling I ask, "What will He do with 
 
 me?" 
 
84 Pilate s Question, 
 
 What shall I do with Jesus? For himself 
 Must each one ask and answer Pilate's ques^ 
 
 tion. 
 For the dear Lord still waiteth patiently, 
 With pleading face, and tender, wistful look, 
 For words that put Him to an open shame 
 Or hold Him in the closest bonds of love. 
 O soul immortal ! What shall be thy choice ? 
 To send Him sad and sorrowing from thee 
 
 now, 
 Or make of Him thy Friend, that in that day 
 When thou shalt stand before the Judgment- 
 seat 
 Thou mayest not fear what He will do with 
 thee. 
 
$W0 Wttlttt. 
 
 SUGGESTED by a picture by the celebrated 
 French painter, Horace Vernet, of the " An- 
 gel of Death bearing off a young girl.'' A 
 youth at her side has hidden his face, that he 
 may not see the approach of the " King of 
 Terrors/' who comes to the girl, not as the 
 grinning, ghastly skeleton we so often see rep- 
 resented, but as an angelic messenger, with a 
 form dark and mysterious, it is true, but a 
 face, when closely inspected, of celestial beauty, 
 and a touch too gentle to disturb the impress 
 of her form on the couch from which he is 
 raising her, while the youth seems unconscious 
 of his presence. 
 
 I. 
 
 Oh, horrid, grim, and ghastly death ! 
 
 Thou comest with thy chilling breath 
 
 To wither all the flowers of hope 
 
 That in my pathway lie. 
 
 (85) 
 
86 Tzvo Voices. 
 
 The fairest maid these eyes have seen 
 Was mine to woo and win, I ween ; 
 'Twas only on life's downward slope 
 I thought that she might die. 
 
 By pleasant paths, o'er fragrant flowers, 
 I hoped to lead my love to bowers 
 And shady nooks of living green, 
 Where zephyrs wander free. 
 Love's rosy light I thought would last, 
 But thou hast come to overcast 
 Its glowing morn, and stand between 
 My cherished one and me. 
 
 I can not see thee grasp her hand 
 And lead her to the unknown land 
 Through dismal shades, where phantoms grim 
 May freeze her soul with fright. 
 O Reason ! thy poor, flickering ray 
 Lures but to darken sorrow's day, 
 For Death is king where faith is dim, 
 And thine the only light. 
 
Two Voices. 87 
 
 II. 
 
 My loving, patient watcher sleeps ; 
 The long, sad vigil that he keeps 
 Beside my couch has wearied him 
 E'en to forgetfulness. 
 Dear Father, in Thy love impart 
 Some solace to his breaking heart ; 
 The cup Thou fillest to the brim 
 
 With anguish, do Thou bless. 
 
 Give him the faith Thou givest to me — ■ 
 The faith beyond this world to see 
 A glorious realm where Thou art King, 
 Nor sin, nor death shall reign. 
 I feel the messenger is near 
 That parts me from my loved one here ; 
 But thou, O Death, hast lost thy sting, 
 Christ's dead shall live again. 
 
 So gently dost thou draw me hence, 
 So softly steal my soul from sense 
 And bear me on to Paradise 
 
 To meet my Saviour dear, 
 
88 Two Voices. 
 
 Though dim and shadowy thou art, 
 No terror doth thy form impart ; 
 There is a look within thine eyes 
 Forbids all thought of fear. 
 
 It may be I shall pass to light 
 Through shadows darker than the night, 
 But since my Lord hath been that way 
 I will not dread the tomb : 
 I know that I can trust His power 
 Most fully in the darkest hour ; 
 His promise is — to be my stay 
 Until I leave the gloom. 
 

I 
 
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