M. M. Teagar 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS? 
 
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 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 
 
MARIAN 
 
 A POEM 
 
 M. M. TEAGAR 
 
 Ye shall know them by their fruits. 
 
 BUFFALO 
 THE PETER PAUL BOOK COMPANY 
 
 895 
 
 "$ 
 
 OF CO*, 
 
 I 
 
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 COPYRICHT, 1895, 
 BY M. M. Teagar. 
 
 PRINTED AND BOUND BY 
 
 THE PETER PAUL BOOK COMPANY, 
 
 BUFFALO, N. Y. 
 
I DEDICATE 
 
 Marian 
 
 TO 
 
 IRENE EMMA 
 
 MY BELOVED WIFE 
 
 AND TO THE 
 
 NOBLE WOMEN OF MY COUNTRY 
 
 AS A 
 
 TRIBUTE TO THEIR 
 
 CHRISTIAN WORK AND LOVE. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PART I. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 Consecration 9 
 
 Faith 49 
 
 PART II. 
 
 The Struggle 53 
 
 Hope 87 
 
 PART III. 
 
 The Victory 91 
 
 Charity 127 
 
PART I. 
 
 CONSECRATION 
 
CONSECRATION. 
 
 r r*HE night was cold. The wintry winds swept o'er 
 A The snow-clad fields, and down the ice-glazed 
 street; 
 The busy hum of active life was hushed, 
 Contented with the gains that, day by day, 
 Had swelled the massive heaps of hoarded wealth 
 That greed and av'rice wrings from stricken hearts, 
 And forced from sleepless eyes of poverty 
 And squalid wretchedness and want, a tear. 
 The dazzling chandelier that late had lit, 
 With gorgeous show, the house of praise and prayer, 
 Is darkened, and the voice of song has ceased. 
 Within their homes of quiet, peace, and rest, 
 Repose the souls whose pious prayers were heard 
 Borne Heavenward for frail humanity, 
 The care-worn widow in her solitude — 
 The helpless orphan in its sore distress — 
 The friendless beggar — the wretched outcast, 
 And blessings on the human race invoked. 
 
 The stately pile, where wealth and fashion lent, 
 With lavish hand, their aid to mirth and song, 
 
io MARIAN 
 
 Is hushed in dreams of luxury and ease, 
 Unconscious of the suff'ring world without, 
 And dreaming naught of poverty and want ; 
 And heeding less the homeless, houseless waif, 
 Who came to ask a pittance in the name 
 Of Charity, as, shiv'ring in the storm, 
 It stood without, turned penniless away, 
 With but one step between the child of want, 
 Sighs, destitution, beggary and tears, 
 And that of comfort, luxury and ease. 
 And as I placed within her icy hand 
 A sum wherewith to meet her present need, 
 With thanks a trifle gave she in return 
 By way of recompense, whereon was wrought, 
 In letters neat, the name of Marian ; 
 And as she bowed and sadly turned away, 
 My soul soliloquized in rythmic strains : 
 Alas ! How much is humankind 
 To Heaven false, to pity blind ! 
 Though all the joys that earth could give, 
 Or art employ or man receive, 
 Though hope may swell the human heart, 
 And fortune still her gifts impart — 
 Though all that life could e'er bestow 
 From Heaven above or earth below, 
 
MARIAN 
 
 However pleasing, winsome, fair, 
 Are but as bubbles blown in air, 
 When no kind heart has sought to cheer 
 The bruised heart, or dry a tear j 
 But, mersed in selfish, sordid greed, 
 Has spurned the helpless child in need. 
 'Tis but a useless, vain display, 
 That tempts the visions of a day, 
 Then quickly vanishes from sight, 
 And shades the restless soul in night ; 
 A pleasant dream, that steals along 
 Amidst life's visionary throng, 
 While hope and fortune, hand in hand, 
 And sylph-like forms from fairy-land, 
 Are flitting still before our eyes, 
 When lo ! the spectral phantom flies, 
 Then wakes the wistful soul from sleep, 
 To look upon the past and weep. 
 
 The home of luxury and ease 
 The sight may charm — the senses please, 
 And lure us on, but what are these, 
 With all their vain display, 
 
MARIAN 
 
 Where gorgeous halls and marble floor 
 Are hard-wrought earnings of the poor, 
 And pleading still without the door 
 The wretched lay? 
 
 Where yet the stream of plenty flows, 
 How oft the hand of pleasure throws 
 The gilded mantle of repose 
 
 O'er fortune's downy bed; 
 And heirs to sumptuous bounty feed 
 While chilling poverty and need, 
 In wretchedness and hunger plead 
 
 For daily bread. 
 
 We view the world, and as we scan 
 Each brilliant scheme — ambitious plan — 
 In all the higher walks of man, 
 
 In peace or deadly strife, 
 Alas ! How little do we know 
 Of all the wretchedness and woe 
 That living mortals undergo 
 
 In humble life. 
 
MARIAN 13 
 
 When life's ambitious course has fled, 
 Go where above the illustrious dead 
 Yon marble column rears its head, 
 
 And o'er its surface trace 
 A line from life's historic page, 
 That tells of hero and of sage, 
 With all the follies of an age 
 
 That curse our race. 
 
 And while imputed virtues smile 
 
 Upon that monumental pile, 
 
 Then cast one glance beyond, the while, 
 
 Where other visions rise ; 
 There, yielding up his humble cot 
 For some neglected, lonely spot, 
 By rich and poor alike forgot, 
 
 The Christian lies. 
 
 No sculptured granite bears his name- 
 No pen inscribes his guiltless fame, 
 Nor wicked hands consigned to shame, 
 His dust beneath the sod. 
 
1 4 MARIAN 
 
 Yet when the spiritual minstrels swell 
 The Heavenly chorus, "All is Well ! 
 His virtues with his soul* will dwell 
 In peace with God. 
 
 Hardby yon princely mansion stands 
 The lonely cottage where the hands 
 Of time have measured out its spans, 
 
 In death the beggar sleeps ; 
 And, yielding all that life endears, 
 A shattered wreck of other years, 
 In woful poverty and tears, 
 
 The mother weeps. 
 
 No hand supports her drooping head — 
 No tears of sympathy are shed — 
 No hospitable board is spread 
 
 Within her gloomy cot. 
 By fate ordained to suffer, where 
 No friendly gift — no voice of prayer, 
 Or kind relief has entered there 
 
 To cheer her lot. 
 
MARIAN 15 
 
 But when the pulse of life grows weak, 
 The infant brow, the furrowed cheek, 
 A prayerful, hopeful language speak 
 
 Of bliss in Heaven above ; 
 When each the path of life has trod, 
 And ceased to feel the chastening rod, 
 They seek the bosom of their God 
 
 Where all is love. 
 
 Then why, when daily prayers ascend 
 To God the rich and poor defend, 
 And wealth and luxury attend 
 
 Each worldly enterprise, 
 In pleading tones — with shivering form, 
 With scarcely rags to keep it warm, 
 Or shield it from the wintry storm 
 
 The orphan cries? 
 
 O, Thou, the God of truth and love, 
 Who reigns supremely from above, 
 And sits alone at Mercy's gate 
 To guide the ruling hand of fate, 
 Whose every look is but a glance 
 Throughout creation's broad expanse; 
 Who notes the destiny of all — 
 
16 MARIAN 
 
 The crush of worlds — the sparrow's fall ; 
 O if the hand of justice can 
 Adjust the scales of man to man, 
 And o'er the shadows of the heart 
 The faintest ray of hope impart ; 
 If there be Christian virture here 
 To drop a sympathetic tear 
 For all the agony and woe 
 That torture mortals here below ; 
 If there be purity of thought 
 With honesty of purpose fraught, 
 Unmingled with those selfish arts 
 That poison honest human hearts, 
 And moves the hand that opes the door 
 To greet the rich and curse the poor, 
 Then why this cruel, hapless lot, 
 In life despised — in death forgot ? 
 Why leave the bitter cup of grief 
 To torture still without relief? 
 O why no Christian hand to bless 
 The poor and needy in distress, 
 While poverty, neglect and hate 
 Thus haunt the wretched child of fate? 
 Alas ! man's vanity and pride, 
 With all his greatness, must subside ; 
 
MARIAN' 17 
 
 The head shall bow, the knee shall bend 
 To recognize one common end, 
 And there to God resign his trust, 
 " Earth to earth, and dust to dust." 
 
 Meditation ceased. The wintry blast 
 Swept moaning through the leafless trees as if 
 A mournful cadence to the dirge of time. 
 Moved by the thought that bore upon my soul 
 With pressing weight, I turned, resolved at once 
 To seek the home of wretchedness and want, 
 And solve the mystery that slumbered there. 
 Groping in the deep shadows of the night, 
 I followed in the wake of her whose sad 
 Appeal fell like a pall upon my heart, 
 And deeply shook all trusting confidence 
 In Adam's race — in Christian Charity — 
 Deeds of benevolence and love. Cast out, 
 A little waif, tossed to and fro upon 
 The chilling tide of poverty and want — 
 Upon the threshold of God's temple spurned, 
 And empty turned away from the abode 
 Of princely splendor, luxury and pride, 
 To wander on in agony and grief 
 To the abode of squalid wretchedness, 
 
1 8 MARIAN 
 
 Called by the sweetest name on earth, a Home. 
 
 With not a word to kindle dying hope — 
 
 No smile to lift the burden from the heart — 
 
 No sympathy to cheer the weary soul — 
 
 No hand of charity to give relief 
 
 Against the wintry storms that sweep without, 
 
 Or soothe the hearts of those who mourn within. 
 
 Directed by the pale and glimm'ring light 
 That struggled through the shattered window panes, 
 The lonely hut was reached. A voice within 
 Was heard, in plaintive song, low, soft and sweet, 
 Like angel voices far away in space, 
 Lisping the words of a sweet lullaby : 
 
 Sleep, my little darling, sleep ; 
 Angels guard thy soul, and keep 
 Safely through the coming night — 
 Watching till the morning light ; 
 
 Dreaming — sleeping, 
 
 In God's keeping, 
 Free from toiling, striving, weeping — 
 Pure and spotless — undefined. 
 Rest, my little darling, rest 
 On thy mother's loving breast ; 
 
MARIAN 19 
 
 Softly press thy lips to mine ; 
 Kiss — good-night — sweet dreams be thine. 
 Eyelids closing — 
 Sweetly dozing, 
 In the arms of God reposing, 
 Sweetly sleep, my darling child ; 
 Good-night — good-night 
 Till morning light, 
 Sweet child, 
 Good-night. 
 
 The song had ceased— her cherished idol slept, 
 And all was still ; the song had died away, 
 Like some sad echo in the mournful past, 
 On angel's breath borne on the wings of night 
 Before the throne of Heav'n. Softly rising, 
 With lines of care upon her pallid brow, 
 As grief still fed upon her faded cheek, 
 Moved by a mother's love, she sadly bent 
 Her wasted form above her sleeping child ; 
 And as she gazed upon her only hope 
 And tie that bound her weary soul to earth 
 With all the passion of a mother's love, 
 A tear-drop fell upon the placid face, 
 And quivered in the pale and sickly light 
 
20 MARIAN 
 
 Like trembling dew-drops in the morning sun. 
 
 O that some faithful gifted pen would trace 
 The lone sad hist'ry of a widow's tear; 
 Some Raphael, paint, as with a master's hand, 
 The depths of sorrow borne upon the heart — 
 The lines of care cut deeply on the brow — 
 The dreary solitude that weighs upon 
 The burthened soul : The agony that finds 
 Respite alone in patient fortitude, 
 Fed from the purest fountains of the heart; 
 Outline her thoughts, as, wandering in the past, 
 She sees her brightest hopes of early life 
 Beset with shades of poverty and death, 
 Misfortune, care and grief: For he, to whom, 
 In lovely womanhood, she pledged her troth, 
 Has passed away. The soul, on which she leaned 
 In confidence, fraught with inspiring hope, 
 Has passed beyond the tide of human tears, 
 And with it all her sanguine dreams of life. 
 Begirt with young, confiding innocence, 
 She looks upon the cheerless world without, 
 With all its cold and heartless selfishness, 
 And there invokes the aid of Heaven to spare 
 Her little ones from poverty and want, 
 
MARIAN 21 
 
 Until the soul, relief can only find 
 In bitterness and tears. 
 
 A widow's tear ! 
 The concentrated spirit of a life 
 Of love, of suffering and woe ; hallowed 
 By patient toil — self-sacrificing deeds 
 Of care, devotion and anxiety, 
 And purified in helpless agonies 
 Of woman's heart. Welled from the soul's pure 
 
 depths, 
 'Tis sanctified within the eye of Heaven, 
 And consecrated, in the name of Him 
 Who blessed the poor in spirit — pure in heart, 
 To virtue's cause — to innocence and love ; 
 Embodiment of sorrow and despair — 
 Of blighted hopes deferred — unrealized, 
 Of long suff'ring — of agony and grief — 
 The heart's pure gem, that sparkles as it falls 
 Upon the shrine of purity and love, 
 A gift from Heaven to heal the bruised heart. 
 Such was the tear that lay upon the face 
 Of sleeping innocence ; Fit emblem of 
 The pure and sinless heart for which 'twas shed, 
 'Twas purified from all of passion's dross, 
 And in the crucible of love refined. 
 
22 MARIAN 
 
 As yet it lay upon the placid cheek, 
 
 The mother bent with anxious, saddened heart, 
 
 And kneeling down, her parching lips impressed 
 
 A burning kiss upon the childish face ; 
 
 And, as she knelt beside the sleeping child, 
 
 Her fervent soul went up to Heaven in prayer : 
 
 " O merciful and everlasting God, 
 Who does all things aright, in Heav'n and earth — 
 Who marks the crush of worlds — the sparrows' fall- 
 The Giver of each good and perfect gift — 
 The Searcher of all hearts, both good and ill — 
 Who counsels Peace on Earth — good will to men- 
 The widow's lone support — the orphan's friend — 
 Whose promise is to all who love and serve 
 Thee, the meek and lowly, poor and humble, 
 Thy Holy name be praised — Thy will be done 
 On earth as it is done in Heav'n j look Thou 
 In kind and tender Mercy from Thy throne, 
 And blessings pour upon my darling child. 
 Take her into Thy keeping through this night ; 
 Shield her from the storms of adversity 
 And misfortune ; direct her infant steps 
 In paths of virtue, purity and love ; 
 Mould Thou her gentle spirit to Thy will, 
 
MARIAN 23 
 
 And lift her thoughts to Heaven and to Thee. 
 
 Spare her, O God, not for herself alone, 
 
 Or me, through selfish weakness or desire, 
 
 But for the noble work Thou hast assigned 
 
 Us in the ministrations of Thy grace, 
 
 The building of Thy holy church on earth, 
 
 And in the heart the Temple of Thy Love — 
 
 Of Peace and Joy, Ineffable — Divine. 
 
 For these, grant that her soul, her life, her all, 
 
 Be dedicated to Thy work on earth, 
 
 And consecrated to Thy holy name. 
 
 And so devote the strength that Thou hast given 
 
 To earnest Faith, Benevolence and Truth ; 
 
 That her young heart be tuned in unison 
 
 With all pure thoughts — all holy impulses — 
 
 All noble and self-sacrificing deeds, 
 
 And works of Christian Charity and Love. 
 
 Teach her, O Thou, to feel another's woe — 
 To walk in sympathy with all mankind, 
 And answer to the stern demands of want, 
 Hunger, wretchedness, poverty and tears ; 
 To heal the bruised heart — dry sorrow's tears — 
 Comfort the afflicted — apply the balm 
 Of Christian consolation to the soul 
 In the sad hour of dire extremity, 
 
24 MARIAN 
 
 And scatter seeds of kindness in the path 
 
 Of helpless innocence and struggling grief, 
 
 To reap, as the reward of pious toil, 
 
 The prayers and blessings voiced from Christian 
 
 hearts, 
 And gain the kind approving smile of Heaven 
 To crown the efforts of a well-spent life. 
 
 To Thee and these I dedicate my child ; 
 Accept the gift — 'Tis all I have to give — 
 And with Thy hand, just God, inscribe her name 
 Upon the tablets of eternal truth ; 
 In Mercy's name, O bless my darling child, 
 And take her to thyself to rest at last 
 For Jesus sake, who died that she might live, 
 And Thine shall be the praise forevermore." 
 
 The prayer was done, and as she lisped, "Amen," 
 She wiped the tear-drops from her weeping eyes, 
 And bent her gaze upon the sleeping child ; 
 The pearly drop, that laid upon its face, 
 Was dried, and in its stead, as if inspired, 
 A sweet, angelic smile played o'er the calm 
 Features, and touched them up with Heavenly grace, 
 Sweetness and beauty. A gleam of sunshine 
 Rested upon the infant brow, and lit 
 
MARIAN 25 
 
 The mild sweet features with a ray of light, 
 That spoke of dreams in happy fields that reached, 
 Far out beyond the swelling tide of tears. 
 The wicked, harsh and cruel world was veiled 
 From dreamland's verdant plains and sunny skies; 
 The shadow that so oft extinguished hope 
 That kindled in the young and tender breast, 
 Was brushed away beyond the realm of dreams, 
 Before the sunlight of a happier clime. 
 
 O land of dreams ! Sweet in thy mystic light 
 Are the incessant views that flit across 
 The vision, when shut out from earthly cares, 
 To drain a foretaste of the world beyond. 
 The soul that struggles with the cares of life, 
 And daily bows beneath its weight of grief — 
 Toiling, striving for those it fondly loves, 
 Finds respite in thy bright Elysian fields. 
 Our sweetest, dearest, happiest waking thoughts 
 Are, in thy fairy visions reproduced, 
 And live in shapes of stern reality — 
 A sweet fruition of our sanguine hopes. 
 The wayworn wand'rer, as he bends his steps 
 To some oasis in the desert plains, 
 Lies down beneath its cool and grateful shades, 
 
26 MARIAN 
 
 And, lulled to sleep by gurgling waters near, 
 His spirit wanders to thy realms ; Sweet home, 
 That dearest spot on earth, he greets ; With joy 
 He clasps his loved ones to his heart — imprints 
 A fervent kiss upon each brow, invokes 
 A blessing on each soul. The desert field — 
 Its glaring, burning sands — its scorching sun, 
 Through which his weary feet must travel still, 
 Are far removed from thee, as thou shalt be 
 In waking hours, except as memory clings 
 To thee in fond embrace. 
 
 The mother gazed 
 In silence on the quiet, gentle face, 
 And watched with calm solicitude and love, 
 The playful features, as the gleams of light, 
 Beaming from heart of sleeping innocence, 
 Gave silent utterance to joy intense, 
 Felt only in the presence of God's love — 
 An inspiration of the soul Divine, 
 For great and noble ends to consummate 
 In the advancement of life's pious work 
 On earth. The light of Heav'n shone brightly o'er 
 The calm, sweet face, as if it were to bless 
 And sanctify the soul within. No cares 
 
MAR/AN 27 
 
 Of life were outlined there ; But in God's care 
 And keeping, shielded and protected from 
 The storms of passion, wickedness and pride, 
 That swept amain the busy world without, 
 There sat upon the serene countenance 
 The smile of Peace, Contentment and repose. 
 
 Brushing aside the tears that lately filled 
 Her sleepless eyes, the mother heaved a sigh, 
 And felt the weight that long upon her soul 
 Had borne, removed ; and that the sacrifice 
 She offered in the person of her child, 
 Like that of Abraham, God's chosen one, 
 Was worthy and acceptable to God, 
 And truly pleasing in the sight of Heaven ; 
 And so, with soul relieved, resumed her toil, 
 And left the child to revel in its dreams. 
 
 Moved by intense desire to learn the true 
 Sad history of this affecting scene, 
 I gently tapped the door ; A voice within 
 Bade me enter ; I asked what sad mischance 
 Had cast upon her heart a grief so deep — 
 A shade so far without the pale of hope ? 
 In tones subdued, yet calm and sweet, she said : 
 
28 MARIAN 
 
 " My home was once a happy one ; My soul 
 Looked out upon the horoscope of life — 
 The auguries of hope were fair and bright ; 
 In place each star shone in the cloudless sky ; 
 And he to whom, in wedlock's holy tie, 
 I freely gave my hand, and pledged my troth, 
 Endowed me with his ample means, with which 
 I met my frugal wants and much to spare. , 
 
 The homeless waif found welcome to our doors ; 
 We sought the poor and helped them in their need; 
 We sought the widow in her humble cot — 
 The helpless orphan in its cheerless home, 
 And comfort gave to all in their distress ; 
 And many little hearts have leaped with joy 
 In simple gifts we worthily bestowed, 
 And all of this in Christian duty bound. 
 That stately home, where first you met to-night 
 That sleeping child, was ours. We knew no want, 
 Save alone the crying wants of others. 
 At length affliction laid a heavy hand , 
 Upon the partner of my hopes aud joys, 
 When death removed him hence, and we were left 
 To battle with the cruel world alone. 
 And, through the intricacies of the law, 
 And selfish intrigues of designing men, 
 
MARIAN 29 
 
 Who prey upon the widow's only means, 
 
 And doom her child to beggary and want, 
 
 We scarce knew how or why, that spacious home, 
 
 Entailed upon my only child, was lost. 
 
 The little pittance, hoarded as my own, 
 
 With this poor home and rarely simple gifts, 
 
 So grudgingly bestowed, was all I had 
 
 To shield us from the grasp of beggary. 
 
 To all I now submit — His will be done ; 
 
 With faith and hope I seek new life beyond, 
 
 And consecrate my all — my child to God." 
 
 Oh ! What feeling is more to Heaven akin 
 Than a calm and Godlike resignation 
 Of the soul to the holy sacrifice 
 And consecration of an only one 
 To a life of toil and self-denial, 
 And deeds of pure benevolence and love ? 
 Enduring all things — suffering all things 
 For Him, who gave His only Son to die 
 That we might live ; True test of faith in God, 
 As in the off ring made on Mount Moriah — 
 The evidence of love of God for man, 
 As witnessed in the holy sacrifice, 
 The piercing groans and dying agonies 
 
3 o MARIAN 
 
 Endured upon the Cross of Calvary. 
 So, thus resigned to God in holy trust 
 And confidence in His parental care, 
 They rest in peace. 
 
 Moved by this pious scene 
 Of Christian faith and virtue, far removed 
 From every comfort life could give or share, 
 And veiled from every eye save God's alone, 
 How vast the multitude of thoughts that crowd 
 Upon the mind and soul in spectral shapes, 
 Where conscience, void of ill toward God and man, 
 Sleeps sweetly 'neath the roof of poverty; 
 And angel forms flit ever and anon, 
 About the couch where age and childhood lie 
 Reposing in the light of Heaven's smile, 
 Like resignation pillowed on the lap 
 Of Peace. Swift thought, as with a painter's hand, 
 Sweeps o'er the canvass of our daily lives, 
 And paints in livid hues the lights and shades 
 That follow in the wake of human tread. 
 Here, in the halls of luxury and ease, 
 Lie those who, in their zeal of selfish greed, 
 Despoiled the poor of all they had, and heaped 
 On high their sordid gains, extorted from 
 
MARIAN 31 
 
 The sweat and tears of poor but honest toil, 
 Then closed their ears to cries of poverty, 
 To Charity and Christian brotherhood. 
 Here sensual pleasures strew, with lavish hand, 
 Abroad the ample means that God ordained 
 For higher, purer, nobler, better ends ; 
 And bloated forms of Avarice and Pride, 
 Sail calmly o'er the sea of human tears, 
 And ride upon the whirlwind of fortune, 
 Unmindful of the scattered wrecks of Peace 
 And Plenty, Happiness and Ease that lie 
 Strewn widely o'er their desert path below, 
 Condemning sorrow, penury and want 
 To writhe in helpless agony and grief. 
 
 'Tis thus we learn, by quiet, stealthy steps 
 To the abode of wretchedness and want, 
 The true, sad hist'ry of the widow's tear, 
 The orphan's cry, and agonies that steal, 
 With leaden weight upon the homeless waif; 
 'Tis thus the lessons taught in humble life, 
 Are traced upon the human heart and soul 
 In all their living colors. Drawn from life's 
 Realities, with stern and pressing weight, 
 They bear upon the pious Christian soul 
 With force that naught, save by the gentle hand 
 
32 MARIAN 
 
 Of sincere love and Christian Charity, 
 
 Can e'er remove. No form of words or prayers 
 
 From sacred desk, or silken pew, to which 
 
 The poor and humble have no part or lot — 
 
 No off rings 'neath the roof of stately homes, 
 
 Through doors of which no child of want can pass, 
 
 Can reach the throne of grace, unsanctified 
 
 By acts of kindness — tears of sympathy, 
 
 And deeds of Christian Charity and Love. 
 
 One half the world scarce knows the agony 
 Of fortune's stings the other half endures, 
 Where no kind step invades the humble home, 
 No cheer revives the brooding heart of care, 
 No hand of Christian Charity and Love 
 Is lain upon their lean and scanty board, 
 Or shields the shiv'ring form from wintry storms, 
 Or soothes the stricken heart in sore distress. 
 
 Sadly and quietly I went my way, 
 Resolved that no untimely stay of mine 
 Should e'er disturb their sweet and quiet rest; 
 And as I homeward bent, with saddened heart, 
 My silent way, through drifting snow and sleet, 
 My soul gave vent to grave and earnest thought : 
 
 Here rests two lives, whose history is that 
 Of thousands, written in the ink of tears, 
 
MARIAN 33 
 
 And stereotyped in agony and woe, 
 
 Which few would see, and fewer care to know. 
 
 The lonely, sad and struggling life of those 
 
 Whose hopes lie far beyond the tide of tears ; 
 
 Whose only joy rests in the life to come, 
 
 And happy consciousness of doing right ; 
 
 Those lives, within whose doors no shadows pass, 
 
 Save those of sorrow, wretchedness and want. 
 
 'Tis here the bright-winged messengers of God 
 
 Find lodgment in the soul, and Faith and Hope 
 
 Look far beyond the weary cares of earth, 
 
 And refuge seek in everlasting life. 
 
 'Tis here the heart would seek, in earnest prayer, 
 
 Communion with the Prince of Peace, who blessed 
 
 The pure in heart — whose promise is to all 
 
 The faithful followers of God. And yet, 
 
 To them the world is dark ; Dim shadows creep, 
 
 Like spectres o'er the rugged path of care, 
 
 And ghostly phantoms press upon the soul 
 
 A cruel weight of poverty and want. 
 
 O that the world could boast of hearts as pure 
 
 And stainless in the sight of God, as those 
 
 Who thrive upon the very tears they shed, 
 
 And ripen in the soil of humble life. 
 
 No wily schemes to nip the bud of Hope — 
 
34 MARIA M 
 
 No steel-clad soul to blunt the edge of Faith — 
 No stream of wealth to quench the fires of Love — 
 No pride to stay the hand of Charity, 
 But, martyr-like, the flames of torture serve 
 To light the path that leads the soul to Heaven. 
 So, with these sad and melancholy thoughts 
 Graved on my heart, I laid me down to rest, 
 Resolved to trace these humble souls through life, 
 Whose only heritage on earth is tears, 
 And only hope, immortal life beyond. 
 
 The morning broke, bleak, cold and comfortless, 
 And with it broke the quiet, peaceful sleep 
 Of those who dwelt within that squalid home. 
 Another day of anxious, ceaseless toil, 
 Called them to meet the stern realities 
 That daily faced a cold and heartless world. 
 Yet each besought the duties of the hour — 
 The one intent upon her scanty meal, 
 The other busy with her morning task. 
 The meal dispatched, the mother calmly sat, 
 And gazed upon the features of her child, 
 Who looked upon the saddened face and said, 
 With smiles of pleasure beaming in her eyes : 
 
MARIAN 35 
 
 " O mamma, dear mamma, I'm happy to-day, 
 
 Though dreary the morning and chill ; 
 Though snow-drifts are heaping and choke up the 
 
 way, 
 Though winds through our cottage now whistle and 
 
 play, 
 And clouds are still threat'ning, dark, gloomy and 
 
 gray, 
 My heart throbs in happiness still. 
 
 " Then mamma, dear mamma, come listen to me, 
 
 A beautiful story I'll tell, 
 As softly you fondle my head on your knee, 
 I'll tell of the wonderful beauties that be 
 In regions my eyes have been longing to see 
 
 Where virtue and purity dwell. 
 
 " Last night, dear mamma, when you sang me to sleep, 
 
 And tenderly kissed me good-night, 
 
 With soft, loving eyes, so accustomed to weep 
 
 O'er the pathway of life so rugged and steep, 
 
 You sang the sweet angels my spirit to keep, 
 
 And guard till the dawning of light. 
 
36 MARIAN 
 
 " While listening, dear mamma, my spirit it seems 
 
 Was charmed with sweet music above ; 
 Then I wandered away in beautiful dreams 
 To lands where the sunlight of happiness beams 
 O'er meadows and flowers, and murmuring streams, 
 And sweet crystal fountains of Love. 
 
 " Where never, dear mamma, is darkness or night — 
 
 No sickness or sorrow, they say, 
 But ever 'midst sunshine, transcendently bright, 
 Sweet visions of beauty, and scenes of delight, 
 'Neath halos of glory that ravish the sight, 
 
 Peace dwells in the presence of day. 
 
 " My soul was entranced with the beautiful scene — 
 My heart gathered strength as it flew 
 
 On pathways of light over meadows of green, 
 
 Enclosed all about with a silvery sheen, 
 
 As sweet-scented flowers lie scattered between, 
 Late freshened with glittering dew. 
 
 " Borne onward by patience, submissive and tame, 
 
 I saw the sweet home of the blest 
 Aglow with the brilliance of Heavenly flame, 
 Where voices of angels, in chorus, proclaim 
 A welcome to spirits, in God's Holy name, 
 
 To mansions of glory and rest. 
 
MARIAN 37 
 
 " The angel-recorder sat thoughtfully near, 
 
 And opened his record to me ; 
 Then spoke in kind accents, 'Come, give me thine ear; 
 Thy mother's last prayer in the flow of her tear 
 That fell on thy cheek, is registered here, 
 
 And granted in Heaven for thee. 
 
 " ' These guardian angels whose presence you see, 
 
 Will strengthen the spirit within ; 
 Their presence, their counsel and prayers will be 
 A solace, a guide, and a comfort to thee — 
 Thy strength and support o'er the turbulent sea 
 
 Of evil, temptation and sin. 
 
 " 'First, Faith, Holy minist'ring angel of light, 
 Whose feet with the gospel is shod, 
 
 With God's Holy Word, she will guide thee aright ; 
 
 Give heed to her counsel, submit to her might, 
 
 Whose eye alone brings to the regions of sight 
 The beautiful mansions of God. 
 
 " 'Next Hope, with her light ever shining before, 
 
 To quiet the spirit's unrest, 
 Though wildly the pillows of passion may roar 
 With Faith for her compass she'll pilot thee o'er 
 Life's tempest-tossed bosom, thy vessel to moor 
 
 Secure in the harbor of rest. 
 
38 MARIAN 
 
 " l Next, Charity, modest, kind, gentle and meek- 
 
 The beautiful handmaid of Love, 
 Who carries no mantle of shame on her cheek — 
 Who succors the needy and strengthens the weak, 
 The greatest of minist'ring angels who seek 
 
 To treasure their harvests above.' " 
 
 " O mamma, so lovely and handsome was she, 
 
 Whose look was to comfort and bless, 
 My spirit, in transports of pleasure and glee 
 So sweetly enraptured, was tempted to flee 
 The presence of angels, dear mamma, to thee 
 To lighten thy soul in distress. 
 
 " She smiled with a sweetness that angels adore, 
 
 And said, as she modestly came, 
 1 Remember the needy, the sick and the poor — 
 The widow and orphan who ask of thy store, 
 The hand is thrice blest that opens the door, 
 
 And giveth in Charity's name. 
 
 " l Remember, dear child, in the pledges I give, 
 Your life shall be happy in mine ; 
 
 That all of God's creatures wherever they live, 
 
 Who ask of thy bounty shall amply receive ; 
 
 To cherish no hatred, but freely forgive, 
 Is Christian — is Holy — Divine. 
 
MARIAN 39 
 
 " ' As we strive in the name of Him who has trod 
 
 The low-ground of sorrow and shame, 
 The servants of Peace shall bow at her nod, 
 While Mercy shall lighten the chastening rod, 
 And Love stand in waiting as sponsor to God 
 For pledges we give in His name.' 
 
 " Then asked the kind angel-recorder, 'Do you 
 
 God's mission now promise to All, 
 With these your companions to pilot you through, 
 And answer your bidding, whatever you do 
 For suffering humanity, faithful and true? ' " 
 
 My soul answered promptly, — I will. 
 
 " A chorus of angels, in music sublime, 
 
 Responded a hearty Amen ; 
 That swept far abroad in a Heavenly chime, 
 And flowed in its sweetness of cadence and rhyme 
 For sanctified souls, who in fullness of time, 
 
 Should visit their realms again. 
 
 " My raptures, dear mamma, I could not control, 
 
 So suddenly sprung into birth ; 
 I felt a new motive had entered my soul — 
 That life had no sorrows I would not condole — 
 The heart no afflictions I would not console, 
 
 To lighten the burdens of earth. 
 
4 o MARIAN 
 
 ' 'They told me, dear mamma, our cottage, though drear, 
 
 Was dearer than palace or hall ; 
 For God, in His Mercy would dwell with us here, 
 And minist'ring angels, still hovering near, 
 Would comfort the soul, that in meekness and fear, 
 
 Responds to humanity's call. 
 
 "And this is what lightens my spirit to-day; 
 
 Then let not thy spirit despond ; 
 Though cold winds of sorrow may whistle and play, 
 The sky of the future be murky and gray, 
 And snow-drifts of fortune may choke up the way, 
 
 God's Love is still shining beyond. 
 
 " My life and its duties, dear mamma, are plain, 
 
 Though heavy the cross I may bear, 
 God's Holy commission resolved to sustain, 
 Whatever the surT'ring, the anguish or pain, 
 That angels may welcome my spirit again 
 To rest in the glories they share." 
 
 The mother's heart welled up in tears of joy, 
 That spoke of peace with God, and felt her prayers 
 Had met acceptance in the sight of Heaven. 
 That though the world might frown in cold neglect, 
 
MARIAN 41 
 
 And mock her in the sight of poverty ; 
 
 That though life's sensual comforts be withheld 
 
 By hearts and hands more able to bestow — 
 
 That through no agency had Charity 
 
 E'er crossed the threshold of her humble home, 
 
 Though all about sat plenty and to spare, 
 
 Her soul rejoiced in treasures far more dear 
 
 Than all that earth could give — sweet treasures stored 
 
 Within the sacred precincts of the heart, 
 
 And conscience void of all offense toward God 
 
 And man, looking with hope to Him alone, 
 
 Who guides all things aright, for her reward. 
 
 That while the world might sacrifice the soul, 
 
 Without remorse, to selfish lust and greed, 
 
 She offered all she had — her only child, 
 
 In sacrifice to God, that He, through her, 
 
 The thorns remove that choke life's narrow way, 
 
 And smooth the path her humble feet had trod, 
 
 For those far less deserving than her own. 
 
 And so she felt far happier in her cot, 
 
 Reposing in the light of Heaven's smile, 
 
 Than those who dwelt in stately palace halls, 
 
 With hearts estranged from God and pious deeds, 
 
 On which no ray of Heavenly sunshine lends 
 
 Its genial warmth, — no angel wings to fan 
 
 The restless soul to sweet and quiet sleep. 
 
42 MARIAN 
 
 The child, with resolution far beyond 
 Its years, and smiling countenance that glowed 
 As if inspired, looked on the mother's face, 
 And read the cherished secret of her heart, 
 Then said : 
 
 " I feel my life is not my own ; 
 That all I am and all I have to give, 
 Is dedicated to God's Holy work 
 Of pious acts and deeds of charity. 
 To these I shall devote my all ; to them 
 My soul is pledged in dreams, and now I know 
 The sacred vow is registered in Heaven ; 
 And by the help of those who pledged to give 
 Support in every trying hour of need, 
 I will, when God shall please to give me strength 
 Of womanhood, redeem those sacred vows. 
 Till then, my feet must tread the beaten path 
 We long have trod 'midst poverty and tears. 
 And bitter though the school may be in which 
 My heart, by sad experience taught, shall learn 
 How deep the lips of others may have drank 
 Of that same cup from which both you and I 
 So oft have drank, e'en to its lowest dregs, 
 And oft may drink again ; that lesson now 
 
MARIAN 43 
 
 I am resolved to take, that sympathy 
 
 May harmonize the melody of love, 
 
 And that the open hand of Charity 
 
 May reach to all who most may feel her need." 
 
 Though these were words of years far more 
 mature, 
 They were the tongue of inspiration, voiced 
 From heart and soul of budding womanhood, 
 Imbued with sentiments of love Divine, 
 Refined and purified from all the dross 
 Of human passion, arrogance and pride, 
 And moulded by the plastic hand of God 
 To minister to suff'ring souls of earth 
 Sweet consolation in the hour of need. 
 
 'Tis thus, in humble life, that nature moulds 
 The instruments, with which great ends are won. 
 Familiar with the lower walks of life, 
 They seek to purify the fountain source 
 Of moral virtue ere it reach the tide 
 Of social, moral and domestic life j 
 And so with waters running fresh and pure, 
 It mingles with the flooding stream of life 
 To purify its tainted breath, ere yet 
 It joins the ocean of eternity. 
 
44 MARIAN 
 
 The meek and lowly one of Nazareth, 
 Who came to earth and laid upon His head 
 The burdens of a sin-cursed, fallen race, 
 And sacrificed himself upon the cross 
 That we, through Him might have eternal life, 
 Chose, for His ministry of Peace and Love, 
 The humble fishermen of Galilee ; 
 Whose honest hearts were free from moral taint, 
 And no ambitious schemes, or selfish aims 
 That crowd the walks of so-called higher life, 
 Found place or refuge in their humble breasts. 
 Divinely called, through Faith, to them was given, 
 In Holy trust, commission from on High 
 To preach salvation to a dying world. 
 By them the crystal springs of hope were stirred, 
 And waters of eternal life flowed free 
 To all who were athirst. Inspired of God, 
 And with a Faith, no powers of earth could shake, 
 They, God's commission bore through flood and 
 
 flame, 
 While persecution followed in their wake, 
 Their souls amidst triumphant songs of joy, 
 Were borne aloft to meet their just reward. 
 
MARIAN 45 
 
 Alas ! 'Tis not from halls of pompous wealth, 
 Or stately homes, where avarice and pride 
 Hold carnival instead of pious prayer, 
 The Holy messengers of God are called ; 
 Nor from the home of selfish greed and lust 
 The ministers of Charity are found ; 
 But from the humble, pious, pure in heart, 
 Whose lives have felt the touch of penury, 
 And through their lives have learned to sympathize 
 With poverty and human suffering ; 
 Those who esteem the wealth which they enjoy 
 As simply means with which to scatter seeds 
 Of happiness to those, whose lot in life 
 Has been less favored than their own ; and so 
 Lay up a fruitful store of happiness 
 Beyond the grave, wherein the soul, at last, 
 Finds consolation in a well spent life. 
 
 Here, in the morning flush of early life, 
 Who could but see the seeds of firm resolve 
 Imbedded deeply in the heart and soul 
 Of one whose own sad life had sown them there; 
 Whose tears, like dews, fell on the dormant germ, 
 And gave it life. Whose sighs like breath of Spring, 
 
46 MARIAN 
 
 Gave strength and vigor to the opening bud 
 
 That soon should bloom and bear the rip'ning fruit 
 
 Of Charity, Benevolence and Love. 
 
 Who fitted more for such a noble work 
 Than she? Whose life has farther been removed 
 Than hers from halls of indolence and ease? 
 Whose mind more free from all the studied arts 
 That pompous pride and fashion could invent? 
 Whose soul less gorged with dregs of social life ; 
 Whose heart less schooled in all that constitutes 
 The idle train of current vice and sin, 
 Where dissipation, unrebuked, stalks forth 
 By night and day, to join the giddy throng 
 Of revelry, called social mirth and life? 
 
 Thrice armed, as with the panoply of Heaven, 
 She now resumed her daily path in life, 
 With meekness, patience, fortitude and love. 
 Each coming day drags slowly on, and brings 
 Its weight of toil and anxious care ; each night 
 Brings peaceful rest, and with it sweet repose, 
 Sustained by conscious innocence and love. 
 
MARIAN 47 
 
 So, with abiding, earnest Faith in God 
 And all His promises, did Marian give 
 Acceptance to the humble sacrifice 
 And consecration of her life and soul 
 To pious deeds of Christian Charity, 
 And bear upon the standard of the Cross 
 Faith, Mercy, Peace, Benevolence and Love. 
 
FAITH. 
 
 O boundless Faith, with Love Divine, 
 Far out beyond the tide of years, 
 
 Thy purest Christian virtues shine 
 Above the crystal fount of tears. 
 
 As unalloyed with passion's dross, 
 
 Though veiled from erring mortal's eyes, 
 
 She looks up to the wondrous cross 
 For peace and rest beyond the skies. 
 
 Though dark the vale through which she leads 
 The soul, now ready to despond, 
 
 As fear upon its courage feeds, 
 The sun of glory shines beyond. 
 
 She lights the latent fires of love — 
 
 With patience braves the chast'ning rod, 
 
 And turns our worldly thoughts above, 
 To lead the soul to Heaven and God. 
 
50 MARIAN 
 
 She smooths the rugged path of life — 
 Revives the brooding soul of care — 
 
 Becalms the sea of earthly strife, 
 And lifts the burden of despair. 
 
 And groping on, through darkness led, 
 To realms no mortal eye can see, 
 
 She feeds the hungry soul with bread 
 Of Life and Immortality. 
 
 Without her gentle hand to guide, 
 Life has no object, end or aim 
 
 Beyond a selfish worldly pride 
 
 That ends in death, remorse and shame ; 
 
 No strengthening hope beyond the grave 
 To nerve the restless spirit on ; 
 
 No hand to help — no power to save, 
 When life has fled and Mercy gone. 
 
 In God's eternal Word proclaimed, 
 To Life assured — to Hope endeared, 
 
 Upon this rock, divinely framed, 
 
 Christ's Holy Church on earth is reared. 
 
MARIAN 5 1 
 
 Through Abraham, and in his seed, 
 The nations of the earth were blest ; 
 
 Through Faith in God, by Heaven decreed, 
 The soul must seek eternal rest. 
 
 That soul, well grounded with belief 
 In God and His redeeming Love, 
 
 May look through beggary and grief 
 To fruitful fields of bliss above. 
 
 Reposing in His tender care — 
 Confiding, trusting in His Grace, 
 
 Behind the darkness of despair 
 
 Still beams His kindly smiling face. 
 
 O Faith Divine ! It is in thee 
 
 We find God's Holy promise given, 
 
 And through thine eye alone we see 
 
 The path that leads the soul to Heaven. 
 
PART II. 
 
 THE STRUGGLE. 
 
THE STRUGGLE. 
 
 However calm the sweet and peaceful rest 
 The soul enjoys in conscious innocence, 
 And Christian purity in mind and thought, 
 Yet day and night each other must succeed, 
 And lights and shadows flit across our path ; 
 Now kindling up a ray of glimmering hope, 
 Now leaving all in darkness as before. 
 And yet the soul that rests in confidence 
 In God's redeeming love, looks through the eye 
 Of Faith and Hope to brighter skies beyond, 
 And calmly struggles with the world's unrest, 
 Content with earth's misfortunes to contend, 
 And mast'ry gain by unremitting toil 
 Through Christian Patience, Fortitude and Love ; 
 Still struggling through the night to reach the dawn, 
 And stormy seas to clearer sunlit skies. 
 To those who wear about the heart and soul 
 The talisman of Love and Faith and Hope, 
 Trusting in Him who guides their steps aright, 
 God's Light Divine gleams brighter on their path, 
 To guide them o'er the rugged steeps of life. 
 
56 MARIAN 
 
 And so the days and nights had passed and left 
 Alternate light and shade on Marian's path, 
 Till winter ceased to cast his whitened locks 
 And icy breath upon the lap of Spring, 
 Or lay his hand upon the bruised heart ; 
 And, as he sought again his northern home, 
 All nature hailed once more returning Spring, 
 Blooming and bright in all her loveliness. 
 The feathered songsters warbled in the groves, 
 And wood and meadow teemed in echoes sweet, 
 With life and song, voiced from a thousand throats. 
 Sweet flowers cast their fragrance on the breath 
 Of morn, and nature smiled in calm repose 
 Beneath the soft and genial rays of Heaven. 
 The babbling brook that found its winding way 
 Through grove and glen 'neath canopy of green, 
 Laughed in the sunlight's struggling beams that 
 
 peeped 
 'Tween parted leaves, as if to steal a kiss 
 From dimpled face of virgin purity, 
 Ere yet it joined the turbid stream beyond. 
 On hilly slope, arrayed in velvet green, 
 Besprinkled with the gems of sparkling dew, 
 And sweetened by the perfumed breath of Spring, 
 Grazed quietly the lazy, listless fold, 
 
MARIAN 57 
 
 While o'er some rugged knoll or grassy mound 
 
 Near by, the lambkins skipped in playful glee. 
 
 Far out upon the distant landscape hung 
 
 A soft and dreamy haze, borrowed alike 
 
 From earth and sky, tempered with golden light. 
 
 Amidst the deeper shades of forest green 
 
 Is thrown the gauzy tints of azure hue, 
 
 Like some sweet dream of romance cast upon 
 
 The darker background shades of real life. 
 
 O cheerful, happy Spring ! As we pass through 
 
 The fleeting year, how typical of life. 
 
 Our hearts rejoice in childhood's early Spring — 
 
 We ripen in the Summer of our prime 
 
 We bow beneath the Autumn of decay, 
 
 And fall beneath the chill of Winter's breath. 
 
 Far out beyond the limits of the town, 
 Upon a quiet, gentle woodland slope, 
 Where nature smiled in all her loveliness, 
 A little unpretending cottage stood ; 
 A sward of green sloped eastward from the door, 
 Along the foot of which a brooklet played 
 In mimic waves across the pebbled shoal, 
 Or eddyed in the tall rank grass that grew 
 Upon the little marsh below. 
 
58 MARIAN 
 
 On such 
 A morn to such a home, the tender voice 
 Of love and duty summoned Marian 
 Beside the humble couch of Ellen Gray, 
 Her only friend through all her childhood's years; 
 Trained in the same poor humble walks of life, 
 Their hearts had learned to beat in unison 
 In all that went to make their young lives share 
 The petty joys that childhood's innocence 
 Bestows, ere yet they're called upon to meet 
 Life's stern realities, and scale alone 
 The rugged path that lies beyond. To them 
 The song of birds was sweet ; the prattling brook 
 Was music to their ears ; the tangled vines, 
 That hung in matted folds above their heads, 
 Disturbed by none except the scented breeze, 
 Or warbling voice of forest songster, formed 
 A soft, rich canopy, beneath whose shades 
 They built their little rustic house, and played, 
 In childish sport, the mimic role of life. 
 Naught dreamed they of the agony and tears 
 That soon must fall to their unhappy lot. 
 Forgetting, for the time, the many wants 
 That daily crowd upon their stinted homes — 
 The calm solicitude of prayerful hearts 
 
MARIAN 59 
 
 That daily went to God for those who must, 
 Alone and friendless, face to face, confront 
 The messengers of poverty and want, 
 The leisure hours of childhood's days were passed, 
 As oft as each, with loving purpose, gained 
 Respite from stern demands of poverty. 
 
 Not so the pious mission of to-day ; 
 A sadness brooded o'er the heart and soul 
 Of her whose footsteps sped upon the path 
 That led to Ellen's home. The tender heart 
 Went out with sad forebodings that ere long 
 The mystic veil, that hid her future life, 
 Would be removed so far as that she might 
 Catch one faint glimpse of what must lie beyond. 
 With these sad thoughts still brooding in her mind, 
 The cottage door was reached. She raised the latch, 
 And entered with a soft and gentle tread ; 
 For Ellen slept ; and save her breathing deep, 
 All was as still and silent as the grave. 
 Near by her couch, the mother sat alone, 
 With care-worn brow and anxious countenance, 
 Gazing calmly upon her sleeping child ; 
 Watching — waiting — with deep solicitude 
 For her who was her only hope in life. 
 
60 MARIAN 
 
 A whisper breathed in anxious inquiry, 
 
 Awoke the sleeping girl. Her large blue eyes, 
 
 With sudden, nervous stare, now fell upon 
 
 The genial, kind and sympathetic face 
 
 Of her beloved and cherished friend. A smile 
 
 Passed o'er the wan, pale face ; a fevered flush 
 
 One moment lit her cheeks, then passed away ; 
 
 She reached her hand as oft in other days, 
 
 When hand in hand they climbed, in childish sport, 
 
 The little steep that overlooked her home. 
 
 So, Marian took the proffered hand in hers, 
 
 And stood beside the couch, and, ere she spoke, 
 
 Impressed a kiss upon the parched lips ; 
 
 And, as a shade of sorrow crossed her face, 
 
 With eyes that spoke the feeling of her soul, 
 
 She firmly clasped her hands across her breast, 
 
 And looked to Heaven, as if in silent prayer. 
 
 This done she said : 
 
 "I'm sad to see you thus, 
 And I to know it not until so late. 
 I've gathered from my mother's scanty means, 
 And brought such comforts as I thought would serve 
 Your present needs. I would I could do more; 
 
MARIAN 6 1 
 
 Of what we have you must accept a share. 
 
 God, in His Providence, will furnish more. 
 
 So take them — they are thine, and question not." 
 
 With lustrous eyes, beaming with gratitude, 
 She gazed on Marian's face as if to read 
 In it the very secret of her soul, 
 And with a smile upon her face replied : 
 
 " May Heaven bless your kind and gentle soul, 
 My dearest, best, and only friend, save one 
 Whose hand has led me through my childhood's 
 
 years. 
 Although our lot is hard, my life, so far, 
 Has been a cheerful one \ I often strove 
 To be a friend, and kind, to all, and yet, 
 Of all whom I have known, none, save yourself, 
 Would share with me my childish sports or give 
 A word of love— -a friendly, welcome smile ; 
 My steps they shunned as from a serpent's coil ; 
 I knew not why; it was no fault of mine; 
 Of all their little gifts I had no share ; 
 Their merry sports were free to all save me; 
 No birthday fete found me a welcome guest ; 
 In social halls, 'midst gaiety and mirth, 
 
62 MARIAN 
 
 No voice of mine was heard ; no vacant chair 
 
 Was placed for me about the festal board. 
 
 Though Christmas came and went, with all its cheer, 
 
 And merriment a thousand hearts inspired, 
 
 While lavish gifts were strewn on every hand, 
 
 My heart was desolate — no gifts were mine. 
 
 How oft my soul has craved but one kind word — 
 
 One tender look — one sweet and loving smile 
 
 To cause my longing heart to leap with joy, 
 
 And fly away, in happy dreams, to feed 
 
 Upon one morsel of unselfish love. 
 
 When hunger crossed the threshold of our home, 
 
 And drove me hence, through crowded lane and 
 
 street, 
 To beg wherewith to make a scanty meal, 
 I sought the homes of wealth — no comfort there : 
 I traversed all the busy marts of trade — 
 All ears were deaf to my appeal. In vain 
 I plead my mother's poverty and want ; 
 No words could touch the selfish heart of greed — 
 No pity reach the sordid soul of wealth. 
 The gloom that shadowed o'er our humble home 
 Preyed now incessantly upon my mind, 
 And so, between our hunger and despair, 
 I fell a prey to sickness and disease, 
 
MARIAN 63 
 
 In which I languished as you see me now. 
 Until to-day no friendly foot has passed 
 Our door. No smile of Charity has lent 
 Its comfort to our home. But Heaven's will, 
 Not mine be done." 
 
 Her story told, she ceased — 
 Her lips were closed — Her eyes were filled with 
 
 tears, 
 Not of anguish, but gratitude and love 
 For her from whom her hungry soul received 
 Substantial comfort in the hour of need. 
 As still she gazed, in listless quietude, 
 On Marian's face, as if to bathe her soul 
 Deep in the crystal fountains of her love, 
 And feed upon the kindness of her heart, 
 Her countenance gave utterance to words, 
 By far, more eloquent than tongue could speak. 
 
 While Marian gave a close, attentive ear 
 Her heart alone responded to each sad 
 Recital as it fell from trembling lips. 
 Her own young life's experience had taught 
 Her heart too well the story she had heard ; 
 And, kindly looking into Ellen's face, 
 With calm solicitude, replied : 
 
64 MARIAN 
 
 "Ellen, 
 I know full well the feeling of your heart ; 
 Our lives have been too much in sympathy — 
 Too often have we drank from that same cup, 
 And drained it to its dregs of bitterness ; 
 And sad experience has taught mine eyes 
 To read the story of your life in mine ; 
 But oh ! dear girl, remember God is just ; 
 When others fail He is the orphan's friend ; 
 His word alone can heal the bruised heart ; 
 His arm alone support the weary soul ; 
 He notes the sparrow's fall ; His promise is 
 To all who put their faith and trust in Him. 
 For He our shepherd is ; we shall not want ; 
 He maketh us to lie in pastures green, 
 And leadeth us beside the waters still ; 
 And though we walk the valley shades of death, 
 No evil shall we fear ; He is with us ; 
 His rod and staff will comfort us ; His hand 
 Will strengthen us when waning hope shall fail ; 
 He is the father of the fatherless — 
 Their helper in the trying hour of need ; 
 For them, in Him, is promised mercy found. 
 To visit them in sickness and distress, 
 With souls unspotted from the tainted world, 
 
MARIAN 65 
 
 Is true religion, pure and undefiled. 
 
 The heartless world may frown upon the poor — 
 
 Turn deaf ears to the piteous cries of want — 
 
 Close doors against appeals of charity — 
 
 And drive the homeless waif upon the street 
 
 Without relief, to meet the wintry storm j 
 
 Humiliate the soul that seeks one smile — 
 
 But one kind word — one sweet endearing kiss, 
 
 And suffer hunger, sorrow and distress, 
 
 Without restraint, to prey with fiendish greed 
 
 Upon the helpless child of poverty. 
 
 Yet, God is just ; His word can never fail ; 
 
 His promise is to them who are afar ; 
 
 The poor He'll not forget, nor quench their hope; 
 
 He stands at their right hand to bless and save ; 
 
 Their right will He maintain — their cause defend ; 
 
 He chose the poor His ministers on earth ; 
 
 He blessed the poor, and made them heirs to 
 
 Heaven. 
 We, then, are not without our God and hope; 
 He chastens those on whom He sheds His love. 
 With these dear promises, what need we fear ? 
 With love to God, and faith in Christ His Son, 
 Firm as the rock on which He built His church, 
 The toils of life are but a passing cloud 
 
66 MARIAN 
 
 Beneath the sunlight of eternal bliss. 
 Trust in His Providence — be strong of heart 
 Till I return, for I must leave thee now ; 
 To-morrow you will see me here again ; 
 Till then, Good-bye." 
 
 Again she stooped and kissed 
 The fevered lips, then gave her parting wish, 
 And soon was gone. 
 
 And so the days sped by ; 
 With each the tide of life ebbed slowly out ; 
 Each day and night found Marian at her side, 
 Sweet words of comfort whisp'ring in her ear. 
 Now Ellen, conscious that the end was near, 
 Took Marian's hand in hers and calmly said : 
 
 " I had resolved our paths should be as one 
 So long as life should serve us both ; but now 
 I feel that I must leave you soon to strive 
 Alone amidst the chafing world's unrest, 
 While I am only called to go before 
 To greet you hearty welcome when you come. 
 Your work of love I once had hoped to share, 
 And, with you, give my life to pious deeds 
 
MARIAN 67 
 
 Of love and Charity. But God has called 
 
 Me hence, and now His call I must obey; 
 
 But ere I go I've one request to make, 
 
 An only one, — that you will come and cheer 
 
 My aged mother in her loneliness ; 
 
 For sad will be her life when I am gone; 
 
 Cheer her, and God will bless thee in the deed." 
 
 Marian gently pressed the hand she held, 
 And gave her pledge. The mother came and sat 
 Upon the couch beside her dying child, 
 And, with a grief none but a mother feels, 
 She asked : 
 
 " My child, are you afraid to die? " 
 Ellen looked calmly on her mother's face, 
 And, with a sweet triumphant smile that spoke 
 Of earnest faith and trust in God, replied : 
 " No, no, dear mamma, God will care for me." 
 The mother's feelings found their vent in prayer, 
 When Ellen clasped her hands upon her breast, 
 Invoked God's blessing on her dear mamma — 
 On Marian, her dearest friend — the sick, 
 The aged and the poor — the homeles waif — 
 The orphan child, the needy and distressed. 
 
68 MARIAN 
 
 She ceased ; her head upon the pillow sank, 
 
 As steadily her lamp of life went out. 
 
 One moment, and the flick' ring flame grew bright, 
 
 And upward from the empty socket leaped, 
 
 As if the hand of inspiration would 
 
 Reveal to life some mystery beyond ; 
 
 She raised her head, and, looking Heavenward, 
 
 As if she caught a glimpse of angel forms, 
 
 Waiting to bear her spirit home to rest, 
 
 Exclaimed, " I see" — but ere the sentence closed 
 
 She sank again, and sweetly breathed her last ; 
 
 And so the soul went out upon the night, 
 
 Upborne on angel's wings to realms of bliss, 
 
 And found its peace with God. 
 
 The mother's heart 
 Was stirred within its depths. Grief sat upon 
 Her countenance, the spectre of despair, 
 Portrayed upon the face of dying hope. 
 The last strong link that bound to earth her soul 
 Was snapped in twain. The last of earthly light 
 That theretofore had shone upon her path, 
 Was lost to sight, and darkness covered all. 
 Yet, with the eye of Faith she looked beyond 
 
MARIAN 69 
 
 The dark and unknown myteries of death, 
 And saw the anchor of her Christian hope 
 Cast in the harbor of eternal rest. 
 
 With all the zeal that young life could inspire 
 In this, her first essay upon her work 
 Of pious acts of Christian charity, 
 Marian performed the last sad offices 
 The living on the dead can e'er bestow. 
 And so it was that all that now remained 
 To earth of Ellen Gray was lain at rest 
 Within the quiet little churchyard near, 
 By those whose lives were humble as her own. 
 The tears that fell upon her lonely grave 
 Were drops distilled from fountains of the heart — 
 The offspring of a pure and tender love. 
 
 Though satisfied with all she said and did 
 To ease the soul upon its flight beyond 
 The shades of death, a gloomy sadness weighed 
 Upon the heart of Marian. The cup 
 From which she sipped her only joy in life, 
 Was dashed in broken fragments at her feet. 
 The tempting fruit of which she thought to feed 
 Her soul, had turned to ashes on her lips, 
 And she was left to struggle on through life, 
 
7 o 
 
 MARIAN 
 
 Her soul still thirsting for one draught of love 
 From fountains of a sympathetic heart. 
 But, in the school of adverse fortune reared 
 From infancy, and nursed in poverty, 
 While peace and plenty smiled on all around, 
 Her brave heart rose above the pressing weight 
 That bore upon her soul, and so she plied 
 Her humble task with fortitude and zeal. 
 
 These last sad rites performed, then Marian bent 
 Above the little mound, and at its head, 
 Deep in the freshened soil, she set with care 
 A bunch of violets, and at the foot, 
 Likewise the lily of the valley placed j 
 Fit emblems of the humble life of her 
 Who slept beneath — the fittest earthly type 
 Of modest love and purity of soul. 
 This done she took the weeping mother's hand, 
 And with assurances of sympathy, 
 She, whispered words of consolation, gave, 
 As hand in hand they took the path they came, 
 Until they reached again the cheerless home. 
 
 Alas ! How sad the melancholy void 
 That broods within the widow's lonely home, 
 
MARIAN 71 
 
 Where late the icy chill of death was felt, 
 And, passing out, has left his shadow there, 
 And, with remorseless spirit, borne away 
 The last remaining treasure of the heart. 
 Dim shadows dance upon the lighted hearth — 
 Sad mem'ries hover o'er the vacant couch, 
 And over all a painful silence steals, 
 Where late was heard the merry voice of song. 
 In vain we listen for the sylvan notes 
 That caroled to the little babbling brook, 
 Or chimed in chorus to the woodland song. 
 A vacant chair stands near the ev'ning fire; 
 One face is missed around the family board ; 
 A void is felt, no mortal power can fill ; 
 A sense of loneliness amidst our friends, 
 That seldom words of comfort can remove. 
 
 Such was the burden of the widow's heart, 
 With none save one, to cheer her solitude. 
 A sigh of grief gave ut' ranee to her soul, 
 As Marian sat in deep and solemn thought, 
 And looked upon the saddened face and said : 
 
 "In this sad Providence, I feel you've lost 
 An only child, and I, an only friend, 
 Whose years and hopes were consonant with mine. 
 
72 MARIAN 
 
 Yet, ours must be to bear and suffer still ; 
 
 The ways of God are higher than our ways, 
 
 And in the end He does all things aright. 
 
 In this affliction, we may see His hand 
 
 As oft He lays His weight on those He loves ; 
 
 I feel my sorest weight is yet to come ; 
 
 That I must tread alone the vale of tears, 
 
 Ere yet He calls my restless spirit home ; 
 
 But you, | whose race is now so nearly run, 
 
 ThroughlFaith can see your rest is near at hand. 
 
 Keep the Faith — He is good ; His mercy lives ; 
 
 Cheer up ; mourn not as one who has no hope ; 
 
 'Twill not be long; He soon will call thee home, 
 
 To [greet again the one you loved and lost. 
 
 Up there all tears are dried — all sorrows healed j 
 
 The pure in heart will reap their just reward ; 
 
 No lines will there be drawn ; the rich and poor 
 
 Will share God's bounties as they may deserve, 
 
 And each alike are judged with equity. 
 
 'Tis written in the holy book of life : 
 
 Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord 
 
 Henceforth ; that from their labors they may rest, 
 
 And their works do follow them. Be of cheer ; 
 
 The world is not so dark as we would have 
 
 It be. The soul, exempt from all the stain 
 
MARIAN 73 
 
 That taints the purer atmosphere of life, 
 
 Need fear no ill whatever may betide. 
 
 Our passage o'er the dreaded stream of death, 
 
 Is but a step to everlasting life. 
 
 Your loving child, whose form our hands have lain 
 
 'Neath yonder mound, has furnished you and me 
 
 A symbol of the blest and pure in heart — 
 
 A guide by which our souls may find their peace 
 
 With God. So young, so beautiful and fair, 
 
 So full of life, of gaiety and love, 
 
 And yet cast off from every social tie, 
 
 By those who might have smoothed her rugged path; 
 
 Humiliated in her thirst for love, 
 
 And spurned in all her efforts to be kind, 
 
 Her soul, upon the very tears she shed, 
 
 Grew strong. Her heart, though stung by sorest 
 
 grief, 
 Fanned all the latent fires of love it sought 
 To kindle in the hearts of those she fain 
 Would have inspired with love in her behalf. 
 And spurning all the scoffing world's neglect, 
 She turned her face in confidence to God — 
 Bore all with patience far beyond her years, 
 Resolved to seek, with fortitude, solace 
 In her own heart, and in the smile of Heaven. 
 
74 MARIAN 
 
 What though the world may boast of hoarded 
 
 wealth, 
 And heap on high its stores of sordid gold, 
 Proclaim their faith, and speak with angels' tongues, 
 Without a faithful, earnest love to God, 
 And Christian charity toward all mankind, 
 They're but a sounding brass ; their hope is vain. 
 Again cheer up ; cast all your hope beyond ; 
 Seek consolation through the grace of God, 
 And faith in Him who blessed the pure in heart. 
 So now, good-bye; I'll see thee oft again." 
 
 And saying thus, she kissed the thin, pale face, 
 O'er which a pleasing smile of comfort passed, 
 In which the watchful eyes of Marian saw, 
 The seeds of love she'd sown, had taken root 
 In fertile soil, to yield an hundred-fold. 
 
 And so the months moved on ; still Marian gave 
 To deeds of Charity and love such time 
 And means as her poor lot in life could spare, 
 Nor once forgot her pledge to Ellen Gray, 
 To cheer her mother in her loneliness. 
 Though mean and scanty was her humble store, 
 Of what she had the poor received a part, 
 And bore the truth that God had blessed the gift. 
 
MARIAN 75 
 
 The orphan found in her a friend sincere ; 
 The widow, words of gentleness and love ; 
 The sorrowing heart a sympathetic tear ; 
 And so to all of these she freely gave. 
 Despoiled of all she had of this world's goods, 
 These treasures of her heart were all she had 
 Herself to give. Of these she freely gave ; 
 And so her cup of love was never drained, 
 However deep the frequent draughts she made. 
 
 But God, as if to render still more pure 
 The instruments through which His work is done, 
 Lays yet again the burden of the cross 
 Upon the souls of those who love Him most. 
 The shadow that had passed before her eyes, 
 And settled like a pall upon her heart, 
 With sad forebodings of some future ill, 
 Borne on the wings of stern reality, 
 Came rushing on her path. The test by which 
 Her fitness for God's holy work of love 
 On earth must soon depend, was near at hand. 
 Borne down beneath the steady weight of care, 
 And struggling in the depths of poverty, 
 Marian's mother languished on her couch, 
 A prey to hopeless illness and decline ; 
 Her life, for weeks, hung by a slender thread, 
 
76 MARIAN 
 
 That weakened with the tension of each day, 
 And promised soon to snap in twain. At length 
 She calmly looked on Marian's face and said : 
 
 "Dear child, my sands of life are nearly^run ; 
 I feel the chill of death upon my heart ; 
 His icy hand is lain upon my brow ; 
 You soon must walk the path of life alone ; 
 No friendly hand to guide thy wandering steps, 
 No kindly voice to whisper words of cheer ; 
 But O remember, though the world forsake, 
 Though cold neglect shall weigh thy spirit down, 
 Though pride may turn thee empty from hergdoors, 
 That God is just ; His promise He'll perform ; 
 Look then to Him for help in time of need ; 
 My prayer for thee is registered in Heaven ; 
 Thy life is consecrated to His work ; 
 With patience, faithful be in its discharge ; 
 With love, thy sponsor at the throne of grace, 
 And steadfast zeal, and earnest faith in God, 
 Redeem the sacred pledge she gave for thee. 
 Be good — be kind — be generous and just ; 
 Return not evil for evil, but good 
 That when thy work on earth is done, our souls 
 Shall be united in the world beyond." 
 
MARIAN 77 
 
 Thus having said she slept in peace. Marian, 
 Beside her mother's couch, watched day and night, 
 Applying every means within her skill 
 To stay the hand that sought to wreck her home, 
 And leave a shade upon the trackless void ; 
 But all in vain. The silver cord was loosed ; 
 The spirit left its tenement of clay, 
 Relieved from all the sufferings of earth, 
 And sought its home again with Him who gave, 
 Where all is peace and happiness and love. 
 No witness there, save Marian alone, 
 To testify to her unswerving faith 
 In God and all His precious promises. 
 
 Alas ! How sad the melancholy thought, 
 That she, who in her years of competence, 
 Bestowed her charity with generous hand 
 On all alike who sought it at her door ; 
 Whose soul was stirred with love for humankind, 
 And tuned in sympathy with human ills, 
 Whose only crime was that of being poor, 
 Should, in her days of poverty and want, 
 Be left to struggle with the world alone, 
 Neglected, spurned by those, who most could give 
 Relief against the stings of poverty. 
 
78 MARIAN 
 
 Of all of those who sought in other days 
 
 To court the favor of her gen'rous heart, 
 
 None came to sit beside her humble couch ; 
 
 None came to look upon her dying face ; 
 
 None deigned to grant or offer simple cheer ; 
 
 None came to smoothe her pillow in the hour 
 
 Of death, or Christian consolation give. 
 
 Yet Marian watched, through all these painful hours, 
 
 With faithful, earnest, deep solicitude, 
 
 The ebbing tide as it went out upon 
 
 The ocean of eternity. 
 
 Deep grief 
 Now dwelt upon the heart of Marian, 
 And yet she faltered not. Nursed in the lap 
 Of penury and want, reared in the school 
 Of grief and suffering, she bore her cross 
 With Christian patience, fortitude and love. 
 Brushing aside her tears when duty called, 
 And seeing all that stern necessity required, 
 She rose above the weakness of the hour 
 And with the remnant left with which to shield, 
 But for a time herself from beggary, 
 The means she found for decent burial. 
 Simple as was the life her mother led, 
 The last sad ceremony was performed. 
 
MARIAN 79 
 
 No funeral train, no costly pageant bore 
 
 The humble corse to final peace and rest ; 
 
 But, by the hands of those who once had been 
 
 Recipients of bounties at her hands, 
 
 When fortune blessed her with the means to give, 
 
 Her form was lowered in its narrow vault. 
 
 Ashes to ashes, earth to earth, and dust 
 
 To dust, escaped the pious sexton's lips, 
 
 As falls the clods upon the coffin lid, 
 
 Like echoes from the voice of dying hope. 
 
 A hollow sound that falls upon the ear, 
 
 And wrings a wail of grief from stricken hearts \ 
 
 The voice of vict'ry echoed from the grave 
 
 In triumph over frail mortality ; 
 
 A warning voice that leaves upon the mind 
 
 A deep impress, that time cannot efface. 
 
 And yet the soul, bereft of all it loves, 
 
 Is left to see, through eyes of earnest faith, 
 
 A glorious hope beyond the grave, where dwell 
 
 The heirs to life and immortality ; 
 
 Who, in their turn, have triumphed over death, 
 
 And robbed the grave of boasted victory. 
 
 Yet those there are, who walk in brighter paths, 
 
 With genial friends, whose kind and gentle words, 
 
 In time, will reconcile the sorrowing heart, 
 
So MARIAN 
 
 And cheer it in the social walks of life, 
 
 Where gaiety, festivity and song, 
 
 From mem'ry veils the shadows of the past. 
 
 Though strong of heart and will, it were not so 
 With Marian, who bore her grief alone ; 
 In solitude it sat upon her heart ; 
 A silent sadness brooded o'er her soul ; 
 Dark shadows bore upon her lonely path ; 
 Desolation filled her cheerless home ; 
 The eye of want leered on her scanty store ; 
 The world without was comfortless and chill ; 
 No friendly hand was there to give her cheer ; 
 No kindly voice sweet words of comfort give ; 
 Those who before responded to her call, 
 Were gone beyond the tide of human tears, 
 And her frail barque went down, and she was cast 
 A waif upon the stormy sea of life. 
 Alone she pondered o'er the dreary past ; 
 Peered in the future with an eye of dread. 
 Upon her own resources cast, her path 
 Was darkened by the shadows of distrust. 
 Without a hand, her earthly course to guide, 
 By which to earn a scanty livelihood, 
 She saw no path save that of beggary. 
 
MARIAN 81 
 
 Her only friends, on whom she had bestowed 
 Her kindly deeds of charity and love, 
 Were helpless, poor and needy as herself, 
 And in her agonies of grief she said : 
 
 " O sad and lonely, thus to be alone ! 
 Cast out upon the world in early life, 
 To struggle with misfortune, poverty, 
 And grief, with none to cool my fevered brow; 
 No friendly voice to cheer my saddened heart ; 
 No means with which to meet my daily wants ; 
 No loving soul on which my heart can lean 
 In confidence for comfort and repose. 
 I stand alone amidst the multitude 
 That throng the crowded walks of daily life ; 
 Where plenty smiles, I plead for daily bread ; 
 Where vows are pledged in tender passion's name, 
 I seek, in vain, one draught to quench my thirst, 
 Of waters pure from crystal founts of love, 
 That flow in other hearts beside my own. 
 Whatever hope the future may inspire 
 Of happiness beyond the grave, in which 
 The soul may find repose, this life demands 
 Relief at least from suffering and want. 
 But be it so ; I put my trust in God, 
 
82 MARIAN 
 
 Whose ways are far above our ways, and just ; 
 Whose promise is to all who do His will \ 
 Who blessed the poor in spirit — pure in heart, 
 And comfort gives in every,, hour of need ; 
 And He who answers to the ravens cry, 
 And manna gave to feed His chosen ones, 
 Will grant, each day, my prayer for daily bread, 
 And bless the hand, moved by the will to do, 
 And gain by honest toil wherewith to live. 
 Since first the curse went forth from Eden's bow'rs 
 That man should earn by sweat and toil his bread, 
 No smile of Heav'n the idle hand has blest : 
 In this as well, my feeble hands must strive 
 To do His will ; and so by toiling earn 
 Wherewith the stern demands of life to meet. 
 
 Thus having said, she knelt beside her couch, 
 And resting thus unbounded faith in God, 
 His promises and kind protecting care, 
 Through all the paths of life's vicissitudes, 
 She refuge sought in humble, earnest prayer, 
 As was her mother's wont in days gone by. 
 And so she prayed to God, the orphan's friend — 
 A loving father of the fatherless — 
 Her only help in every time of need, 
 
MARIAN 83 
 
 To give her strength to bear her painful cross, 
 
 In consummation of the vow she made 
 
 To give her life to God and pious work. 
 
 To light her path, wherever duty leads, 
 
 With truth divine, and wisdom from on High ; 
 
 That Love, who stood as sponsor for the pledge 
 
 She gave to God, His mission to fulfill, 
 
 Inspire her soul with charity for all, 
 
 The rich, the poor, forsaken and despised, 
 
 That she might be the humble instrument, 
 
 By which no child should share her hapless lot, 
 
 But refuge find within some cheerful home, 
 
 Secure from want, temptation, sin and vice ; 
 
 And grow to noble man and womanhood, 
 
 With hearts imbued with Christian faith and love ; 
 
 And that the cause to which her soul was pledged, 
 
 And work to which she consecrated all, 
 
 Might, in the Providence of God succeed. 
 
 And having thus relieved her soul in prayer, 
 The burthen fell that weighed upon her heart, 
 And Hope, through eyes of Faith sincere, shone 
 
 bright, 
 Beyond the vale of tears. Resolved anew 
 To look upon the brighter side of life, 
 
84 MARIAN 
 
 And stem its tide of sorrow, grief and pain, 
 Till God, in whom she placed her only trust, 
 Should in His own good time,' remove the cloud 
 That hung upon her path, and give her strength 
 To execute her ministry on earth, 
 She refuge found beneath the roof of those 
 Whose souls went out in earnest sympathy 
 For moral virtue yoked with poverty. 
 
 Alas ! How few can realize the stings 
 Of fortune, who themselves have never felt 
 Its chilling tide sweep o'er their daily lives. 
 Who, sleeping in the lap of luxury, 
 Have never felt the touch of penury ; 
 Whose ample means, their every want supplied — 
 No wish withheld — no luxury denied ; 
 Who lived as though 'twere all of life to live, 
 And died as though 'twere all of death to die ; 
 Whose souls were wrapped within their sordid gains, 
 Removed afar from crying want without ; 
 Whose visitations never reached the poor ; 
 Whose hearts were never brought in sympathy 
 With human ills in lower walks of life. 
 Whose weekly prayers were heard in their behalf, 
 While yet their grasping hands relief withheld ; 
 
MARIAN 85 
 
 And in whose eyes, true merit has no worth, 
 Unheralded by mammon's welcome voice. 
 All this, and more, by sad experience taught, 
 Did Marian know. Her life, so far, bore home 
 The truth of purity of heart and soul, 
 Clad in the garb of conscious innocence 
 Of all offence toward God and man. Inspired 
 With love and sympathy for humankind, 
 And, armed with confidence, she bore her cross, 
 And launched her barque upon the tide of life, 
 With Faith to guide and Hope to steer her o'er 
 The sea of earthly strife, and win at last, 
 Through holy, pious trust in God, a home 
 Beyond the grave, where kindred spirits dwell 
 In peace with all the faithful and the just. 
 
HOPE. 
 
 There is a Hope that lulls to sleep 
 
 Each loving thought, each anxious care, 
 
 And cheers the heart of those who weep, 
 And breathes a breath of comfort there. 
 
 For every pang there is a thrill 
 Of hopeful joy — exultant glee — 
 
 A gleam of promise ling' ring still 
 To wake the soul to ecstacy. 
 
 There is a glad'ning thought that brings 
 
 Relief in every falling tear ; 
 A soul-inspiring Hope that clings 
 
 To sickness, sorrow, grief and fear. 
 
 Alternate dreams of weal and woe, 
 Upon the fleeting moments fly, 
 
 And light and darkness come and go 
 Each day in quick succession by. 
 
88 MARIAN 
 
 And good and evil, life and death, 
 Upon life's checkered stages dance, 
 
 And change is borne on every breath 
 Throughout creation's broad expanse. 
 
 Then cast aside the ghostly shroud, 
 Discard the mantle of despair, 
 
 For yet behind the darkest cloud 
 The noon-day sun is shining there. 
 
 When fairer forms, with sweeter breath, . 
 
 Have bade our sinking spirits rise, 
 We gaze beyond the shades of death, 
 
 And see the sun of glory rise ; 
 
 And when our steps have reached the goal, 
 Where ends the tide of earthly strife 
 
 'Tis only then another soul 
 Is born to everlasting life. 
 
 And what though boasting man to-day 
 Is groaning still beneath the curse, 
 
 And death and darkness and decay 
 Are stamped upon the universe j 
 
MARIAN 89 
 
 What though the fleeting moments run, 
 And, while our hearts are beating high 
 
 Life's sands are falling, one by one, 
 And separation's drawing nigh ; 
 
 'Tis but the light of early dawn, 
 
 Across life's shadow' d pathway cast, 
 
 To cheer our restless spirits on 
 To Immortality at last 
 
 An earnest of the truly fond 
 
 And cherished dreams of other years ; 
 
 A gleam of joyful Hope beyond 
 The sick'ning vale of human tears. 
 
 Then let our souls, to Faith allied, 
 In Hope's sweet, peaceful bosom rest 
 
 Still gazing on the brighter side 
 To Heavenly mansions of the blest. 
 
PART III. 
 
 THE VICTORY. 
 
THE VICTORY. 
 
 The days, the months, the years have come and 
 gone, 
 And Marian to womanhood has grown, 
 Matured in strength, experience and years, 
 And fully entered on her work of love. 
 She, cradled in the lap of poverty, 
 Now knows full well the pleading cries of want. 
 Familiar with the walks of humble life, 
 Enured to scenes of hardship, toil and care, 
 Grown strong in soil of bitterness and woe, 
 And purified through faith and trust in God, 
 She rose to meet the stern demands of love. 
 Drained deep herself the bitter cup of grief, 
 She knows the pain that swells the fount of tears. 
 Bred in the school of hardship and neglect, 
 Her patient heart has learned to seek with care 
 The child who most deserves her helpful aid ; 
 And having passed the valley of despair, 
 Her eyes are taught to look, through Faith and Hope, 
 Beyond the low' ring clouds that hover o'er 
 The rugged path of life, and point to skies, 
 
94 MARIAN 
 
 Whose brightness lifts the burden from the soul, 
 
 And adds new strength to Faith and trust in God. 
 
 And so she plies her energy and skill, 
 
 With all due diligence to consummate 
 
 The one absorbing purpose of her life, 
 
 And stimulate the Christian soul and heart 
 
 To realize the duty God requires 
 
 Of each and all His creatures, high and low — 
 
 The rich and poor alike — in gilded hall, 
 
 Or humble cot ; — in fashion's giddy throng — 
 
 The child of wealth — the beggar in the street — 
 
 The devotee to luxury and ease — 
 
 The hardy sons of ceaseless, daily toil, 
 
 Humanity in every phase of life, 
 
 Cemented in one common brotherhood — 
 
 United in one common sympathy ; 
 
 And in the temple of the heart, erect 
 
 Upon the rock of God's eternal Truth, 
 
 A structure worthy of a Christian heart, 
 
 Devoted to benevolence and love, 
 
 And Christian charity toward all mankind. 
 
 That those, whom God has blest with ample means, 
 
 Might freely supplement their daily prayers 
 
 With that wherewith to meet the noble end 
 
 For which an All-wise Providence designed 
 
MARIAN 95 
 
 The bounties of His love should be applied. 
 
 To lift the standard of true excellence 
 
 Above the selfish aims of sordid life, 
 
 And measure worth by purity of soul, 
 
 And good impulses of a gen'rous heart. 
 
 To snatch the orphan from the haunts of vice, 
 
 Where wickedness, debauchery and crime, 
 
 By slightest touch, pollute the infant soul, 
 
 And plant instead the germ of Christian faith, 
 
 And sow the seeds of purity and love 
 
 In fruitful soil of young and tender hearts. 
 
 These pious purposes in view, she sought 
 With diligence, fidelity and zeal 
 The paths of all the lower walks of life, 
 Where abject poverty and want appeal 
 To Christian hearts for charity and aid, 
 And where, in helpless innocence reside 
 The children of misfortune and neglect. 
 From day to day she more in favor grew 
 With all on whom her Christian virtues shone. 
 The widow hailed her as a welcome guest ; 
 The orphan as a kind and loving friend ; 
 The poor and needy blessed her helping hand; 
 Wher'er she went, by love or mercy sent, 
 
96 MARAIN 
 
 A gleam of sunshine followed in her path ; 
 
 A voice of welcome burst from grateful hearts, 
 
 The doors of wealth were opened at her touch, 
 
 Where once she plead, in vain, a beggar child. 
 
 With love for all she malice bore to none ; 
 
 In princely halls — beneath the humble thatch, 
 
 Alike at home, she ministered to all, 
 
 Who, from her soft, angelic features drank 
 
 The inspiration of unselfish love. 
 
 And so her soul was happy in the thought, 
 
 That other souls drank happiness from hers. 
 
 Her welcome cheer gave comfort in distress, 
 
 Her friendiy smile a sense of pleasure gave ; 
 
 With words of hope she smoothed the couch of death; 
 
 And, pointing out the way of truth and life, 
 
 Her faith in God and all His promises, 
 
 Of bliss beyond, triumphant hope inspired. 
 
 And thus her pure and spotless life had Avon 
 
 A wealth of love and gen'rous gratitude, 
 
 That lay a happy unction to the soul, 
 
 That pride and wealth alone can never give. 
 
 Beloved, respected and revered by all, 
 
 Her purity of Christian virtue shared 
 
 The grateful love her gen'rous heart inspired ; 
 
 An earnest of the fruits she soon should reap, 
 
MARIAN 97 
 
 As the reward of long and patient toil. 
 
 She suffered long in poverty and want ; 
 
 Was kind to all within her humble sphere j 
 
 She envied none in high or low estate ; 
 
 She vaunted not her gen'rous deeds of love, 
 
 Nor puffed with vanity or selfish pride ; 
 
 Behaved with seemly and becoming grace ; 
 
 Sought not her own e'en in the face of want, 
 
 And ne'er provoked to anger or redress. 
 
 No evil thought, in action, word or deed ; 
 
 Rejoiced not in iniquity, but truth ; 
 
 All things she bore with patient fortitude — 
 
 All things believed that strengthened faith in God ; 
 
 For all things hoped within His promises — 
 
 All things endured for sake of righteousnesss ; 
 
 And thus she lived within the hearts of all, 
 
 A kind and faithful friend, admired, adored. 
 
 The shadow that so long had borne upon 
 
 Her path, was lifted, soon to disappear 
 
 Beneath the sun of fortune's brighter skies, 
 
 That gilds our hopes, and gives a welcome smile 
 
 To messengers of Mercy, Peace and Love. 
 
 He who despoiled her of her early home 
 
 Had passed away. Upon the bed of death 
 
 His childless widow lay. Touched with remorse, 
 
 She summoned Marian to her side, and said : 
 
98 MARIAN 
 
 " Marian, I know my days on earth are spent ; 
 The tide of life I feel is ebbing fast ; 
 Already am I summoned to appear 
 Before the judgment seat, where God will bring 
 My every work with every secret thing, 
 In judgment, whether it be good or ill. 
 But ere I go, my soul cannot resist 
 The last impulse that duty owes to thee, 
 Ere yet it be too late — my time is short — 
 To freely pour the burden of my life 
 Into thine ears, and thine alone of earth. 
 Whate'er I may deserve, O spurn me not ; 
 But pity take for one whose days must end 
 In throes, such as thy soul has never felt, 
 For such as mine are fraught with wretchedness 
 Unknown to those who put their trust in God. 
 Your life, I know, has been a painful one ; 
 Whatever else, remorse has never sat 
 An incubus upon your pious soul, 
 To cast you hopeless in the arms of death. 
 For what I now may have to say to thee, 
 Reproach me not, but in thy kindness throw 
 Upon my faults the cloak of charity ; 
 And when my time has passed, remember thou 
 That, with humility and contrite heart, 
 I, to my God, through thee, confession made. 
 
MARIAN 99 
 
 " Although, in years, now long gone by, I took 
 Upon myself the cross of Christ, my life 
 Was wedded to the world. My heart and soul 
 Were given to thejworld's ambitious schemes, 
 And bowed in adoration at the feet 
 Of luxury and pride. My doors and heart 
 Were closed against appeals of Charity, 
 And barred against the footsteps of the poor ; 
 My ears were deaf to every cry of want; 
 My eyes were blind to objects of distress ; 
 My prayers for blessings on the human race 
 Were empty mock'ries in the sight of God ; 
 I gave no alms — gave nothing for relief 
 Of suffering and want, except so much 
 As would support my own false place in life, 
 And vaunt before the world a generous heart. 
 When oft, in quiet thought, I looked upon 
 The busy world, and saw its lights and shades — 
 Its smiles and tears — its wealth and poverty — 
 The wicked in luxuriance and ease — 
 The righteous in their wretchedness and woe ; 
 Saw hearts, besmirched with wickedness and crime, 
 In golden liveries acceptance meet, 
 And favor gain in halls of social life, 
 While merit, clad in garb of moral worth, 
 
ioo MARIAN 
 
 Was shut without, rejected, spurned, despised, 
 
 My faith in Heaven's justice faded out; 
 
 My soul was led to doubt the wholesome truth 
 
 That God exists ; and so I reconciled 
 
 My heart to all the pleasures of this world. 
 
 "But heavier yet now weighs upon my soul 
 The cursed wrong I heaped upon yourself ; 
 This spacious home, where now we are, was yours ; 
 But in an evil hour 'twas lost to thee, 
 But how or why, I care not now to say ; 
 It is enough for me to know and feel 
 That you were wronged and I have felt the stings 
 Of guilty conscience pierce my inmost soul ; 
 And now that I am called to give account 
 For all the suffering and tears I gave 
 To your young life — your pious mother's age, 
 My soul must answer for the tears you shed — 
 For all the agony of soul endured — 
 For every pang of suffering and need 
 Entailed by me upon your helpless lives. 
 And O, that wintry night of years ago ! 
 My soul, with anguish, shudders at the thought, 
 When, clad in rags, you stood without that door, 
 Your own by right, and plead in tears for aid, 
 
MARIAN ioi 
 
 I steeled my heart against your sad appeal, 
 And empty turned your faltering steps away, 
 And barred you out upon the midnight storm. 
 Yes, turned you from your own paternal home 
 To wander in the night through wintry blasts, 
 I knew not where, and little cared to know. 
 I now must cast this burden from my soul 
 Ere yet I go to answer for the wrong. 
 For this and these I called thee to my side ; 
 While yet I can, I now restore to you, 
 With title deeds this mansion as your home. 
 
 'Tis all the reparation I can make ; 
 
 But not as mine, they are not mine to give, 
 
 But thine by right and by inheritance ; 
 
 Thine by all the sacred laws of man ; 
 
 Thine by all the just decrees of Heaven. 
 
 Accept them now, that this my crowning sin, 
 
 May chafe no more my wretched, guilty soul. 
 
 Though you have suffered much, your heart is pure ; 
 
 Your buoyant soul is free from guilty stain ; 
 
 Through all your life you've been at peace with God ; 
 
 Your sanguine hopes were cast beyond the grave — 
 
 Your treasures stored within the vaults of Heaven. 
 
 Whatever grief or sorrow crossed your path — 
 
 Whatever suffering your heart endured, 
 
102 MARIAN 
 
 Your tears were not of those that issue from 
 A broken spirit and a contrite heart. 
 O, take your own and say that you forgive; 
 As for the rest, I leave them all with Him, 
 The righteous Judge in Heaven and on earth, 
 And so may God have mercy on my soul." 
 
 She paused, and Marian gazed upon her face, 
 And saw the lines of agony that crossed 
 Her pale, wan features, ever and anon, 
 In answer to the tortures of the soul, 
 While struggling for some measure of relief 
 Against the self-conviction of a life 
 Away from God, beyond the pale of hope. 
 At length, with tender voice, she made reply : 
 
 " I know not what your course in life has been. 
 Much less how well the duties you may owe 
 To God have been performed, nor yet how ill ; 
 E'en did I know, 'tis not for me to judge 
 For thee the measure of His righteousness 
 In ministrations of His pard'ning grace, 
 And operations of His boundless love. 
 I only know His gracious promises 
 Extend to all of those who do His will. 
 
MARIAN 103 
 
 The standard of true Christian excellence 
 
 Consists in honest effort to perform 
 
 The duties He requires according as 
 
 He has endowed us with the'strength of mind 
 
 To comprehend the meaning of His word. 
 
 The daily practice of our lives is plain ; 
 
 Not e'en the simpleton need err therein. 
 
 To love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, 
 
 And also love thy neighbor as thyself — 
 
 To help the poor — bind up the broken heart — 
 
 Relieve the suffering — the hungry feed — 
 
 The naked clothe — and tears of sorrow dry — 
 
 Visit the widow and the fatherless 
 
 In affliction, and comfort give; and do 
 
 To others as you'd have them do to you; 
 
 With penitence and deep humility, 
 
 Confess to God the error of our lives — 
 
 Repose our Faith and trust in Him — fear Him, 
 
 And His commandments keep, are duties plain, 
 
 And such, if done will meet with their reward, 
 
 As He, our God, the righteous Judge, shall give. 
 
 We know the penalty of sin is death — 
 
 The meed of righteousness, eternal life. 
 
 Then why, O why thus doubt that God exists — 
 
 Say His eternal truth is but a myth ! 
 
104 MARIAN 
 
 All nature shouts with praises to His love, 
 
 And yields submission to His guiding hand. 
 
 The Psalmist, in his praise has truly said : 
 
 The Heav'ns declare the glory of His name — 
 
 The firmament displays His handiwork. 
 
 Who else, but He, can hold the universe 
 
 In one harmonious whole ? What other hand 
 
 Than His adjust the orbit of the spheres? 
 
 Direct the seasons in their annual course, 
 
 Their coming — going — and return again ? 
 
 Throughout creation's broad immensity, 
 
 All nature joins in one harmonious voice 
 
 To bless His holy name — to chant His praise. 
 
 Amidst the golden tapestry of morn, 
 
 His light, the sun, the searching eye of Heaven, 
 
 Looks from the gorgeous sky and nature smiles ; 
 
 The buds of early Spring — the flowers in bloom, 
 
 Bend to the light of day, and drink the dews 
 
 By night distilled in Heaven's pure atmosphere. 
 
 From forest depths, from woodland, grove and glen, 
 
 At early dawn the warbling songsters greet, 
 
 With notes of joy, His coming with the morn. 
 
 His image smiles upon the fertile plain— 
 
 His glory rests upon the mountain height ; 
 
 His Providence is strewn on everv hand — 
 
MARIAN 105 
 
 Upon the ocean tide — the river's flow — 
 
 In babbling brook — in crystal fountains pure ; 
 
 The sunshine's genial warmth — refreshing dews — 
 
 The light of day — the quiet shades of night — 
 
 And means of life that spring from honest toil 
 
 And thrift, o'er billowing seas of golden grain. 
 
 His hand is seen in every flower that blooms — 
 
 In every leaf that falls, the air we breathe — 
 
 In mountain height, in caverns of the deep — 
 
 In hum of city — depths of solitude. 
 
 His voice is heard upon the tempest's breath, 
 
 And softly borne upon the zephyr's sigh ; 
 
 Echoes the thunder of the cataract, 
 
 And whispers softly in the babbling brook. 
 
 His goodness dwells in all created things ; 
 
 His presence felt in every pious heart ; 
 
 His love displayed in every Christian soul ; 
 
 His mercy shown toward all the human race. 
 
 Inherent dwells within the finite mind 
 
 A thought that points to one who governs all, 
 
 And firmly holds the destiny of souls. 
 
 The heathen, in his blind idolatry, 
 
 His presence feels, while yet he knows Him not, 
 
 And prostrate falls in worship at the feet 
 
 Of graven images of wood and stone, 
 
 In expiation of his conscious guilt. 
 
106 MARIAN 
 
 We feel His presence near, as with His hand 
 He clothes the world in beauty's richest robes, 
 Emblazoned on the face of earth and sky, 
 Marred only by the touch of impious hands, 
 And selfish lust of frail mortality. 
 
 Beauty / Sweet inspiration of the soul — 
 The child of Heaven ! Born of the light that 
 
 beamed 
 From God's eternal throne, when first the dawn 
 Of Heaven broke in majesty sublime 
 Upon the infant world. Enthroned upon 
 The universe, the sceptred queen of Heaven, 
 Her radiance beams upon the heart and soul, 
 As love, entranced, kneels humbly at her shrine. 
 With magic touch she tints the blush of morn, 
 And paints the sunset's golden light 
 With images no master's hand can trace. 
 When darkness steals upon a sleeping world, 
 She revels 'midst the starry hosts above, 
 And sports upon the moonbeams mystic light. 
 Shrouded in mists upon the distant hills, 
 She waves her wand o'er flow'ry fields below, 
 And rests in dreamy haze 'midst forests green. 
 All nature revels in her radiant smiles j 
 The sparkling dew-drop in the morning sun — 
 
MARIAN 107 
 
 The billows sweeping o'er the harvest plain, 
 
 Responsive to the touch of summer breeze — 
 
 The azure gauze that veils the mountain height, 
 
 Or snow-capped peaks that pierce the skies beyond — 
 
 The modest lily in the shaded nook — 
 
 The bow of Heaven, spanning the sunlit storm, 
 
 And promise gives of nature's sweet repose — 
 
 Stern Winter's robes — the flush of rosy Spring — 
 
 The dreamy light of Summer's sultry sun, 
 
 As shadows creep along the woodland stream — 
 
 The gorgeous hues that deck all nature's growth, 
 
 Intensified by chill of Autumn's breath, 
 
 And shim' ring in the light of Heaven's smile, 
 
 In all alike are gems of Beauty seen, 
 
 As each proclaims her majesty divine, 
 
 And vindicates the truth that God exists — 
 
 The Architect Supreme of Heaven and earth — 
 
 The one Creator of the universe. 
 
 " We know that good and evil do exist ; 
 That man with reason is endowed, and thought, 
 Whereby to judge between the good and ill, 
 As knowledge may dictate the right or wrong, 
 And conscience so approve or disapprove ; 
 That two discordant spirits here contend, 
 
108 MARIAN 
 
 Each for dominion o'er the human will, 
 
 The one for evil, gratifying lust, 
 
 That gives no hope beyond the shades of death, 
 
 The other, good, to purify the soul, 
 
 And so prepare it for immortal life ; 
 
 And yet, with all of these, how sad the thought, 
 
 That man alone, of all the universe, 
 
 Has said within his heart, ' There is no God.' 
 
 There is a God ! Yes, merciful and just, 
 Who seeketh not the death of any one, 
 But rather that all have eternal life. 
 Although, 'tis true, the sting of death is sin, 
 Trust in^His grace and all may yet be well ; 
 He lends an ear to words of penitence — " 
 
 "Alas ! " exclaimed the dying penitent, 
 "Alas ! I see, but now too late, too late, 
 That God is just — is merciful and good ; 
 He lives — He reigns supreme in Heaven and earth ; 
 And had I been as faithful to His name, 
 As I have been to selfish love and pride, 
 With all the vagrant follies of this world, 
 All now with me might have been well. My soul 
 Could look beyond with hope — my heart with*faith, 
 And each might rest in peace ; but all is past : 
 
MARIAN 109 
 
 Estranged from God through all the fleeting years, 
 
 I bartered all 'tis worth of life to live 
 
 For wealth and pleasure, luxury and ease, 
 
 To reap, for my reward, stings of remorse 
 
 Thrust in my soul by unrepented sin, 
 
 Till now, too late to serve Him as I ought. 
 
 Were my career cast in the mould of yours, 
 
 This hour would be the triumph of my life, 
 
 In which to reap in peace the rich reward 
 
 Of all the faithful followers of God. 
 
 And now, that some atonement I may make 
 
 For past neglect of those who sought my aid, 
 
 I have bequeathed to thee my whole estate, 
 
 To be applied as best may seem to you, 
 
 To such as I so often spurned in life \ 
 
 The widow in her tears and solitude — 
 
 The orphan, in its utter helplessness — 
 
 The hungry, poor and needy; yes, 'tis thine; 
 
 To thee, 'twill bear its fruits, — to me, too late." 
 
 And as she lay, uneasy on her couch, 
 And wept in all the agonies of grief, 
 Marian gazed, with eyes bedimmed with tears, 
 Upon the flick' ring lamp of life, ere yet 
 It faded out. In its pale light she read 
 
no MARIAN 
 
 Another hist'ry of a widow's tear ; 
 
 Not such as that on which her soul had fed, 
 
 And inspiration drank of faith and hope, 
 
 That gave her strength and Christian fortitude, 
 
 And purified her heart for pious work, 
 
 But tears of penitence, remorse, despair, 
 
 Borne on the fearful mem'ry of the past, 
 
 And hopeless fell upon a sterile life, 
 
 Like dew-drops shed upon a barren waste. 
 
 A tear that gave no life to blasted hope, 
 
 No nourishment to withered germs of faith — 
 
 No tinted hues to faded flowers of love — 
 
 No perfumes on the breeze of twilight eve — 
 
 No fragrance on the breath of rosy morn, 
 
 But, as the tides that kiss the rocky shore, 
 
 Rolled back again upon their ocean home, 
 
 The sands have cooled, but fed no germs of life, 
 
 Her tears flowed back upon her troubled heart 
 
 To swell the burdens of a restless soul, 
 
 And leave no comfort in the life to come. 
 
 Marian took the nerveless hand that lay 
 
 Outstretched upon the silken folds and said : 
 
 " Look yet to God ; trust in His pard'ning grace ; 
 Whatever wrong to me you may have done, 
 
MARIAN ii 
 
 I freely do forgive, with all my heart, 
 
 As for the rest, seek pardon from on High; 
 
 God lends an ear to cries of penitence — " 
 
 ' ' Enough, ' ' exclaimed the dying one, ' ' too late 
 Had I not known, and once confessed my God — 
 Confided in His gracious promises, 
 And pledged my life to do His Holy Will, 
 Through faith in Christ, His own beloved Son, 
 Had I not, with His light before my eyes, 
 Proved recreant to the sacred vows I took — 
 Unfaithful to the service I espoused — 
 Ignored His presence and His promises — 
 Sought in the world, with all its fleeting joys, 
 To feed my soul on fruits of selfish love, 
 And turned away to kneel at pleasure's shrine, 
 My ignorance might plead in my behalf, 
 And I look now to Him with Faith and Hope, 
 That even now, He might perchance forgive, 
 And take me to His bosom still. But Oh ! 
 I knew my duty and I did it not. 
 His poor and needy press upon my soul ; 
 I saw them hungry and I fed them not ; 
 And thirsty, yet I gave them naught to drink : 
 Naked and cold, and yet I clothed them not ; 
 
H2 MARIAN 
 
 Sick and distressed, yet came not unto them. 
 
 For these alone, you know the curse that rests 
 
 Upon my soul ; it cannot be reversed — 
 
 The day has passed — the sun of life has set — 
 
 The night has come, no work can now be done — 
 
 Too late, too late ! — the silver cord is loosed — 
 
 The golden opportunity has passed ; 
 
 Already death stands waiting at my side 
 
 As if impatient to remove me hence ; 
 
 E'en now I feel his breath upon my brow — 
 
 His icy touch upon my feeble heart ; 
 
 The world grows dark — my sight obscure and dim, 
 
 And spirit forms, upon the Stygian shore, 
 
 Await my soul to bear it safely o'er 
 
 To regions of the dead ; no light beyond — 
 
 No angel voices fall upon my ear, 
 
 As o'er my soul the dusky shadows creep, 
 
 As if to add their poignancy to death ; 
 
 No rod and staff to comfort me ; No hand 
 
 Outstretched to welcome me to peace and rest ; 
 
 No voice proclaims for me, ' Well done thou good 
 
 And faithful servant, enter thou into 
 
 The blessings of thy Lord.' Ah no ! For me 
 
 The day has passed — the night is here — too late." 
 
MARIAN 113 
 
 The sentence died upon her lips ; her eyes 
 Assumed the glare of death ; her features pale, 
 Bore all the agonies of mental pain 
 That deep remorse of conscience could inflict. 
 Yet Marian watched, with deep solicitude, 
 The ebbing tide that scarce gave signs of life, 
 Save in a whisper low and faint, " too late," 
 With which her wretched soul passed out to that 
 Mysterious bourne from whence no one returns. 
 
 Marian knelt beside the couch of death, 
 And there, in deep humility, she sought, 
 In silent prayer, communion with her God 
 On her behalf, whose restless, tortured soul 
 Had wandered forth, in agony and dread, 
 To reap its own reward of weal or woe, 
 As God, in Love and Mercy might bestow. 
 This done, she gently closed the sightless eyes, 
 And went about the task the living owe 
 As tribute to the mem'ry of the dead ; 
 And so for this she summoned to her aid 
 A chosen few, selections near at hand, 
 But not of those with whom she spent her life, 
 And shared with her the pleasures of the world, 
 And lured her from her fealty to God ; 
 
U4 MARIAN 
 
 But those who sympathized with human ills, 
 And cast upon the frailties of our lives 
 The ample cloak of Christian Charity, 
 And cherish all our virtues, great and small. 
 Yet, mockery and pride, in gorgeous show, 
 Joined in the fun'ral train, and tribute paid 
 To wealth alone, ignoring moral worth ; 
 And so the pageant passed and gave to earth 
 Its own, and left the spirit wandering on 
 Amidst the shades of death, we know not where. 
 
 As Marian homeward bent her weary steps, 
 Sad thoughts came crowding fast upon her mind. 
 As now she looked upon the busy world, 
 And meditated thus within her heart : 
 
 "Adown the lower walks of humble life 
 I long have traced the wretched soul of grief; 
 My ears have grown accustomed to its sighs — 
 My eyes familiar with its flow of tears ; 
 I've heard the orphan's cry upon the street — 
 Have seen the ghost of beggary and want 
 Stalk, in its wretchedness and misery, forth, 
 And plead in vain for means wherewith to live, 
 Yet these are but the fruits that daily spring 
 
MARIAN 115 
 
 From souls, such as the one now passed away. 
 
 Here wealth was not exempt from agonies, 
 
 Exceeding far the stings of poverty ; 
 
 Yes, tortures borne upon the souls of those, 
 
 Whose closet holds a skeleton within, 
 
 To mock them in the agonies of death, 
 
 And, with the sting of fiery dragons, lay 
 
 Its bony hand upon the guilty heart — 
 
 Shut out God's love beyond the pale of hope, 
 
 And add remorse to hopeless penitence. 
 
 From hungry souls withhold the bread of life — 
 
 Expose them, naked to the eye of Heaven — 
 
 Present them baggars at the throne of grace, 
 
 Where thirsty souls would seek in vain to drink 
 
 One draught from rivers of eternal life ; 
 
 And so 'tis beggary at last — the one 
 
 To end in death, the other, there begin. 
 
 This should not be ; our Christian duty lies 
 
 In minist'ring alike to all mankind ; 
 
 To raise the standard of true excellence 
 
 Above the morbid selfishness that holds 
 
 The lower orders of humanity 
 
 In servile weakness, subject to its will, 
 
 Without the means or power to rise above 
 
 The stagnant pool, whose fetid breath exhales 
 
n6 • MARIAN 
 
 A poisoned atmosphere to moral life. 
 Enough of Christian virtue still remains 
 Within the hearts of those whom God has blessed 
 With ample means to lend a cheerful aid 
 To helping those who cannot help themselves, 
 To rise above the stagnant pool of life 
 To stations worthy of the name of man. 
 These Christian virtues may be utilized, 
 By pointing out the duty God requires 
 Of those who plenty have, and yet to spare, 
 In succoring the needy and the poor. 
 One tithe of wealth, now daily thrown away 
 To gratify the senses, stimulate 
 The whims of fashion, luxury and pride, 
 Would amply serve the purposes desired. 
 And now, that I am placed above the sphere 
 Of want, with mine restored to me again, 
 And having pledged my life, my all to God, 
 In consummation of His glorious work, 
 My path is clear — my duty plain — God's work 
 Must now be promptly done while yet 'tis day, 
 Lest night should come, and then 'twill be s too late / ' 
 ' ' Too late ! O fearful words of meaning deep ! 
 They fall upon the bosom of despair 
 With pressing weight, no effort can remove. 
 
MARIAN 117 
 
 Echoed far back upon the life that was, 
 
 A mournful message from the life that is. 
 
 Laden with tears of helpless penitence, 
 
 They paint upon the canvas of our lives 
 
 A picture, shaded with our saddest thoughts, 
 
 Of what we are, and what we might have been. 
 
 The language of remorse and vain regret, 
 
 They point to golden opportunities 
 
 Neglected or despised ; — to virtuous deeds 
 
 Of Christian piety and love, absorbed 
 
 In human weakness, selfishness and pride ; 
 
 To duty sacrificed to worldly lust, 
 
 And useful life to luxury and ease. 
 
 In grief, despair shuts out the light of hope ; 
 
 The tree from which we might have gathered fruit, 
 
 Moss-grown and barren, flings its naked limbs 
 
 Across our path, as whispers of reproach 
 
 Sigh through its leafless boughs the words, ' too late! ' " 
 
 So Marian thought, and with her strength re- 
 newed, 
 At once with firm resolve she now applied 
 With zeal and fortitude her energies 
 To reach the cherished object of her life. 
 The spacious home to which she was restored, 
 
n8 MARIAN 
 
 And liberal bequest at her command, 
 
 Her purpose answered quite to reach the end 
 
 Her heart had most desired, — an Orphans' Home. 
 
 To all she made her pious purpose known ; 
 
 The stores of wealth responded to her call, 
 
 And gave, with gen'rous hand, all needful aid, 
 
 And for all future need the Home endowed. 
 
 In this, the crowning effort of her life 
 
 Was gained. The poor and humble cot near by, 
 
 In which she spent her years of helplessness, 
 
 Was fitted out in neat and comely style, 
 
 And, faithful to the promise that she gave 
 
 To Ellen Gray, her loved and cherished friend, 
 
 She to her mother gave the cottage home, 
 
 Where she, secure from every care and want, 
 
 Looked calmly down upon life's sunset glow, 
 
 Content to go whenever God should call, 
 
 To meet again the loved one she had lost. 
 
 And so the years rolled on, and Marian saw 
 The fruits that grew and ripened 'neath the sun 
 Of Heaven's smile, in honest souls redeemed 
 From loathsome haunts of beggary and vice; 
 And principles of moral virtue shed 
 Abroad in youthful hearts, whose infant souls 
 
MARIAN 119 
 
 Were safely housed within the fold of God. 
 
 The helpless and the poor alike received 
 
 The comfort and relief that Charity 
 
 Bestows. No sick to languish in neglect — 
 
 No beggar child to plead for daily bread — 
 
 No homeless waif to wander on the street — 
 
 No hungry souls to feed upon remorse. 
 
 To all alike she gave a helping hand. 
 
 To halls of wealth she came when duty called, 
 
 And words of Christian consolation gave. 
 
 A gleam of sunshine beamed upon her path, 
 
 And sorrow fled the presence of her love. - 
 
 With innocence the Orphans' Home was blest, 
 
 And faces bright, with cheerful countenance, 
 
 That beamed with happy smiles from merry hearts, 
 
 That spake of lives removed from every want, 
 
 And souls that trusted in the love of Heaven. 
 
 When from the house of God each Sabbath day, 
 
 The bells rang out upon the morning air, 
 
 In silver tones their chimes of melody, 
 
 That summoned pious souls to praise and prayer, 
 
 The little ones, in long procession passed, 
 
 By Marian led, to worship at the feet 
 
 Of Him, the father of the fatherless, 
 
 And feed their infant souls upon His Word, 
 
120 MARIAN 
 
 And drink the inspiration of His Love. 
 
 And thus it was the young and tender heart 
 
 Was trained in virtuous paths of innocence, 
 
 To rise above the humid atmosphere 
 
 Of immorality and vice. Young hope 
 
 Springs into life as earnest effort feeds 
 
 Ambition with the stimulant of love ; 
 
 And moral virtue guides their infant steps 
 
 In all the ways of pleasantness and peace. 
 
 And thus, what was to baser passions lost, 
 
 To moral phase of social life was gained ; 
 
 And those who gave from bounty's ample store 
 
 This end to reach, looked on with joyful hearts, 
 
 And truly felt that God had blest the deed, 
 
 In that the seed was cast in fertile soil, 
 
 And sprang to life to yield an hundred fold. 
 
 No thorns sprang up to choke the sprouting germ ; 
 
 No scorching sun to blight its early growth 
 
 Amidst the stones of beggary and want, 
 
 That lie upon the desert waste of life ; 
 
 No tares of vice by wicked hands are sown 
 
 That immorality usurp the growth 
 
 Of Christian purity and pious love ; 
 
 But, guarded by the faithful hand of her, 
 
 Whose eye, by long and sad experience taught, 
 
MARIAN 121 
 
 Detected vice in all its sinuous forms, 
 
 Her harvest grew, and ripened here beneath 
 
 The genial rays of God's redeeming love, 
 
 That He might reap abundant of its fruits ; 
 
 And so, by kind and generous hands, was reared 
 
 Upon the rock of God's eternal Truth, 
 
 A monument that reaches far above 
 
 The granite piles to earthly honors reared. 
 
 Reaching beyond the portals of the skies, 
 
 With ascent leading to the throne of God, 
 
 Faith, Hope and Charity unite to guide 
 
 Each soul aright. And so, with patient toil 
 
 Did Marian press, with energy and zeal, 
 
 The aspiration of her life, and rear 
 
 A monument to woman's work and love. 
 
 Yes, Woman's work and Love ! How vast the 
 scope ! 
 How broad the theme — how wide the range of view, 
 Outlined upon the field of time and thought. 
 Endowed with gifts of moral sense refined, 
 When once her gorgeous robes she casts aside, 
 Her soul relieved from selfish aims in life — 
 From ostentation, vanity and pride, 
 And once the fountains of her soul are stirred 
 
122 MARIAN 
 
 With love and sympathy for human -kind, 
 
 And, by demands of Christian duty moved 
 
 To noble deeds of sacrifice and love, 
 
 Her life has shown her equal to the task. 
 
 Her gentle hand its pious work performs ; 
 
 Her heart pours forth its streams of fervent love; 
 
 Her smile lights up, with cheer, the quiet home, 
 
 And stimulates the brooding heart of care. 
 
 Her voice finds access to attentive ears — 
 
 Her song an echo in the heart of love ; 
 
 Her lullaby, breathed from the soul of care, 
 
 Soothes drowsy infancy to quiet sleep ; 
 
 Her presence lights the sacred hearth of home 
 
 With fires that cast upon the careworn heart 
 
 The warmth of peace, contentment and repose; 
 
 And over all, her Christian heart breathes forth 
 
 The simple, pious prayer, "God bless our Home. 
 
 Man pioneers the wilderness of life — 
 Its danger braves — its ceaseless toil endures, 
 And breasts the storm of busy, active life ; 
 She follows close upon his weary steps, 
 And in the garden of the heart she plants 
 The ever-blooming flowers of her love ; 
 Sows seeds of kindness in the sterile soil 
 
MARIAN 123 
 
 Of poverty and want and blends her tears 
 
 Of sympathy with those of sorrow shed. 
 
 Her mission is a ministry of love — 
 
 The high and holy attribute of God, 
 
 For God is love, personified on earth 
 
 In her whose life is one of sacrifice, 
 
 And self-denial, sympathy and love. 
 
 'Tis she who looks upon the infant face, 
 
 And first provokes a feeble smile; 'Tis she 
 
 Who feeds the infant soul with draughts of love, 
 
 Drawn from the purest fountains of the heart ; 
 
 'Tis she who teaches first its infant steps — 
 
 Its lisping tongue to speak its earliest words — 
 
 To breathe at eventide its simple prayer — 
 
 Its tender mind instruct in pious deeds, 
 
 And lessons of morality and love. 
 
 In virtue's mould she shapes its future life, 
 
 And stamps her impress on its heart and soul. 
 
 She demonstrates, through patient fortitude, 
 
 Privation, suffering and ceaseless toil, 
 
 The majesty divine of woman's love. 
 
 To Christ on earth, she ministrations gave ; 
 
 Her eyes beheld His death on Calvary ; 
 
 Was first to reach, on resurrection morn, 
 
 The sepulchre in which her Lord was lain ; 
 
124 MARIAN 
 
 And first in haste, with fear and joy proclaimed 
 The risen Lord, and hearkened to His voice ; 
 And thus, her sphere, exalted far above 
 The highest point to which ambitious man 
 Can e'er attain, is lowered when she stoops 
 To mingle with the gross affairs of life, 
 And gratify ambitious, selfish ends, 
 Where pious motives have no part or lot, 
 The moral atmosphere to purify. 
 
 And so, within the sphere that God assigned 
 For woman's work of piety and love 
 Did Marian give her life to Him who gave 
 His life for her that she might live ; and true 
 To those assurances her soul received 
 In Heav'nly dreams, Faith, Hope and Charity, 
 With Love divine, combined in her to rear 
 This monument to woman's work and love, 
 And bear, upon their wings, her spirit home, 
 To meet again the welcome smile of Heav'n ; 
 And, with her well-earned honors, sweetly rest 
 In peace, with all the faithful and the just, 
 Upon the loving bosom of her God. 
 
MARIAN 125 
 
 The fleeting years rolled on, till Marian 
 Was summoned hence to meet her just reward. 
 Her faithful ministers of Charity, 
 With pride, beheld the legacy she gave 
 The world, her work of life-long sacrifice, 
 With which to purify the atmosphere 
 Of humble life, relieve the pangs of want, 
 And lift the standard of true excellence 
 Above the aims of sordid, selfish life. 
 The tree she planted in -her childhood's years, 
 And nourished in the garden of the heart, 
 Still flourished 'neath the kind and tender care 
 Of those to whom 'twas left in sacred trust, 
 And bore its rarest fruits. The childish heart 
 Of helpless innocence sports in its shades, 
 And laughs beneath the light of Heaven's smile ; 
 And with the breath of each returning Spring, 
 When Nature blooms in all her loveliness, 
 The little ones their annual tribute pay 
 To her who gave her life to such as they ; 
 And, bending o'er the narrow, grassy mound, 
 Give thanks to God in pious praise and prayer, 
 As, with the hand of gratitude, they strew 
 Fresh flowers o'er the grave of Marian. 
 
CHARITY. 
 
 Of all the rare virtues that bloom in the heart, 
 The kindest, the purest, the greatest and best 
 
 Are those which in common their blessings impart 
 To lessen the load in humanity's breast. 
 
 So Charity, born of the spirit that dwells 
 In the bosom of God, unselfish and kind, 
 
 With patient forbearance, all virtues excels 
 In Christian devotion and Mercy refined. 
 
 She thrives in the soil of true patience and Love, 
 She gathers fresh courage in agony's tears, 
 
 And looks for approval and sanction above 
 Through Christ in the day when His coming 
 appears. 
 
 She comes as a sunbeam of Heavenly light 
 To visit the home of misfortune and care, 
 
 Dispersing the shadows and mists of the night, 
 To leave her sweet comfort and sympathy there. 
 
128 MARIAN 
 
 Wherever the footsteps of Mercy have trod, 
 Wherever the light of the gospel has shone, 
 
 She comes, as the minist'ring angel of God, 
 
 To nourish the seeds that her kindness has sown. 
 
 Her mission is boundless — no limits define 
 The field of her labors, at home or abroad \ 
 
 Wherever the sun of His glory may shine 
 Her presence is felt in the service of God. 
 
 The poor humble cottage, where poverty pleads — 
 The bed of affliction, of sorrow and death — 
 
 The home of misfortune where beggary feeds 
 On sighs that are borne upon agony's breath; 
 
 Wherever the promptings of duty demand 
 Relief for the helpless and poor in distress, 
 
 Her arm is outstretched with an opening hand, 
 In generous kindness to comfort and bless. 
 
 And patient, forbearing, enduring and kind, 
 And living for others, nor claiming her own, 
 
 To foibles and faults of humanity blind, 
 She hides them to cherish its virtues alone. 
 
MARIAN I2Q 
 
 % 
 
 Why should we not labor to merit her name, 
 And walk in her pathway of piety, while 
 
 Love, purity, virtue and modesty claim 
 
 To bask in the light of her comforting smile ? 
 
 The soul that erects o'er the fountain of tears 
 God's beautiful structure, that reaches above 
 
 The whirlwinds of passion, a monument rears 
 To Charity's name in the temple of Love. 
 
 Whatever we merit, whatever we praise, 
 
 Whatever the heart, in its fullness professed, 
 
 And all that we give, are but empty displays 
 If not in the spirit of Charity blest. 
 
 With Faith then to nourish the seed she has sown, 
 With Hope that they'll ripen in fullness of years, 
 
 Sweet Charity gathers the fruits she has grown 
 
 In the soil of her Love and the damp of her tears. 
 
13° 
 
 MARIAN. 
 
 L'ENVOI. 
 
 Rest thou in peace ; Thy task of life is done — 
 Thy vows performed — thy consecrated life 
 Has borne its fruit 'midst agony and strife — 
 
 Thy struggle 's o'er — thy well-earned vict'ry won. 
 
 Thy work complete — thy race with patience run. 
 Thy soul inspired with holy zeal to bear 
 
 The cross of Him, the meek and lowly one, 
 And in the cause of human suff'ring share 
 
 The burthen of life's sorrows, grief and tears, 
 Faith, Hope and Charity, in one, combine 
 
 To bear thee o'er the restless tide of years, 
 And crown thee victor at the Holy shrine 
 
 Of God, and in thy pious efforts prove 
 
 The power Divine of Woman's Work and Love. 
 
 fe'S 
 
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