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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 
 
 Chap. Copyright No. 
 
 Shelf._.2l42>^ S 
 ^00 
 
 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 
 

 AN UPWARD LOOK TOR MOTHERS 
 
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 AN 
 
 ^ UPWARD LOOK 
 FOR NOTHERS 
 
 The child is not 
 
 — Gen, S7 ■' 30 
 Thy son liveth 
 
 —John 4 : S3 
 
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 BY, 
 
 ISLA HAY nULLINS 
 
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 Zhc ©riffitb Si IRowlanD IPress 
 
 1900 
 
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 Copyright »ntry • 
 
 -••i^ copy. 
 onoin DIVISION 
 
 Copyright 1900 by the 
 American Baptist Publication Society 
 
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 Electrot?pe^ an^ iprliiteB 
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 List, ye mothers, 'tis the sound 
 OF countless little footsteps. 
 
 From all the world around: 
 A glad host ever marching, 
 
 Children heavenward bound 
 
 

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 eO/STE/STS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 I. Resurrection hope 9 
 
 II. lonely mothers II 
 
 III. the Rover 13 
 
 IV. Little sweetheart 15 
 
 V. THE NEW WORLD 17 
 
 VI. SLIPPING AWAY , . . . . IQ 
 
 VII. A DREAM 21 
 
 VIII. LAID AWAY 23 
 
 IX. What is left 25 
 
 X. Christmas Chimes 27 
 
 XI. No MORE, AND YET AGAIN 29 
 
 XII. MY WELCOME 31 
 
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 4 
 
 RESURRECTION HOPE 
 
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 LOUDS darkly He 
 
 O'er lowered sky: 
 A shadowed world, a hidden sun. 
 We lay away 
 Our precious clay : 
 Life's joy and hope for aye undone. 
 
 A burst of light 
 
 On Calv'ry's height 
 To waiting graves a glory lends. 
 "Arise, Arise! " 
 
 Through rifted skies, 
 With life the risen Christ descends. 
 
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 LOiNEig MOTHERS 
 
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 ITH faltering steps I join the host 
 Of lonely mothers, weeping, 
 That kneel about small grassy- 
 mounds 
 Where little ones are sleeping. 
 
 My empty hands, with theirs, reach out 
 
 In vain for tiny fingers. 
 Whose loving, clinging, sweet child-clasp 
 
 About my own still lingers. 
 
 My trembling kiss falls now with theirs 
 
 On little garments dearest. 
 And some familiar, childish things 
 
 Which voice sweet mem'ries clearest. 
 
 But ah, I too, with them look up. 
 And see the white robes gleaming, 
 
 Of little ones in mansions fair 
 Beyond our brightest dreaming, 
 
 And bend my ear to catch the sound 
 
 Of children's voices singing 
 The gladdest, sweetest songs with which 
 
 Heaven's courts are ever ringing. 
 
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 THE HOVER 
 
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 ^S^^^O my window slopes a hill, ^ 
 
 A tiny bit of woodland sweet, ^ 
 
 Where singing birds and squirrels 
 nossssoia meet, 
 
 Mother trees air baby leaves, . 
 
 And vi'lets blue hide here and there, ^ 
 
 With tiny blossoms, sweet and fair, ^ 
 
 Shy, nameless, wildwood waifs. ^ 
 
 Where ferns and wayward tufts of green ( 
 From friendly rocks peep out between, ' 
 
 Or rest on mossy beds. ' 
 
 And wanton grass doth idly grow, ' 
 
 While summer sun's soft glances throw 
 O'er all a flick'ring spell. 
 One day there came a little lass ^ 
 
 Peeping 'bout the rocks and grass, , 
 
 Searching my woodland o'er; , 
 
 Bending here, and bending there, i 
 
 Coaxing every blossom fair i 
 
 From out its hiding-place. ' 
 
 Long I watched the little rover ' 
 
 Gleaning all my woodland over, — ' 
 
 Flowers and nodding grass. 
 
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 ^Jh At last, with all my blossoms gay, 
 
 ^]^ Tripped the little maid away, 
 
 Whither I could not tell. 
 
 Next morning, would you b'lieve it, dear ? 
 
 In a vase they blossomed here — 
 
 Here on my window sill ; 
 
 Where I could touch each violet blue, 
 
 Every shy, wild flower too, 
 
 And all their fragrance breathe. 
 
 I was glad the little rover 
 
 Gleaned my woodland over. 
 
 And brought sweet thoughts to me. 
 
 Of flow'rs so dear and glad and bright 
 
 The Father carries from our sight. 
 
 Whither we cannot tell. 
 
 But dear, when the morning waketh. 
 
 And the light of heaven breaketh, 
 
 He'll give our own again. 
 
 Then nearer to our straining eyes, 
 
 Neath the light of heavenly skies. 
 
 Clearer we will see them ; 
 
 And we'll feast upon the bloom, 
 
 Drink in full the sweet perfume. 
 
 As God's free spirits do. 
 
 We'll not grieve, the angel rover 
 
 Gleaned these earth homes over. 
 14 
 
A LITTLE SWEETHEART ^0^ 
 
 m fVM;?<^j ITTLE sweetheart, little sweetheart, 
 
 M ^^fe^S ^ whither in your playing 
 
 Im jl^SlM Have you gone so far astraying, 
 
 ^5^ uS^^^i That you press on all unheeding, 
 
 ^0^ And keep me ever pleading. 
 
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 M^ Little sweetheart, little sweetheart, 
 
 M In the freshness of the morning, 
 
 m Through the gleam of full day dawning, 
 
 % Till the sunset glory's falling 
 
 ^0^ You ever keep me calling. 
 
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 M Little sweetheart, little sweetheart, 
 
 M^ Sometimes I hear an echo, 
 
 (m When the heavenward breezes blow, 
 
 il^ And I hush my weary praying 
 
 ^0^ To catch what you are saying. 
 
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 M^ Little sweetheart, little sweetheart, 
 
 M Then I know you are not coming, 
 
 Im From the glad heights you are roaming, 
 
 0f^ And meanwhile you will be calling 
 
 ^0^ When my evening shades are falling. 
 
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 '^^^^^^^^^^^''=i.'^=^*^=5i*'==^'^===^*^===i'"^'==>^'^'''^' 
 
 

 THE iSEW WORLD ^ 
 
 HTH whirr of wings an angel brings ^n-^ 
 The Master's call for one we 
 love ; 
 While swift the two take upward 
 flight, 
 Blinded we stand and gaze above, 
 Mutely we watch them fade from sight. 
 
 The world how still! The bluebird's trill 
 Comes clean and clear from far away ; 
 
 A child's sweet laugh and merry call. 
 
 The hum of wheels, — each noise of day, — 
 
 A strange, deep silence bears them all. 
 
 The world is new. Far sunbeams through 
 
 The silence falling, subtler grow. 
 And fill the earth with mystic gleams 
 
 Which only hearts of sorrow know. 
 We seem to tread the way of dreams. n1(/ 
 
 But days must go, or swift, or slow. 
 And mystic light and silence strange 
 
 With heart and spirit softly blend, 
 
 And give our vision wider range, W) 
 
 And to all sounds new cadence lend. W 
 
Earth's day-story, night star-glory, 
 We see and hear and love anew ; 
 ^A^ E'en to heart-songs, old and dear, 
 
 0h We list intent as strangers do. 
 
 The world unfolds to eye and ear. 
 
 Then with grief's light our spirits' flight 
 May be so free and sure and fleet ; 
 
 Our eyes uplift with clearer gaze, 
 And grief's deep silence is but meet 
 
 That we may catch heav'n's song of praise. 
 
 

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 SLIPPI/SG AWAg $ 
 
 NTO the past they're slipping fast: 
 The ring of a voice, merry and sweet, 
 The rush of little tripping feet, 
 The ripple of laughter, glad and gay — 
 They're slipping away, slipping away. 
 
 Into the past they're slipping fast: 
 
 The vision of shining, gold brown hair, 
 The twinkle of brown eyes, soft and rare. 
 The light of a smile, like dawn of day — 
 They're slipping away, slipping away. 
 
 Into the past they're slipping fast 
 
 The brush of a cheek, a hand's soft touch. 
 The pressure of lips I loved o'er-much. 
 
 My mother heart doth moan, and say, 
 
 They're slipping away, slipping away. 
 
 But ah, the past is slipping fast 
 
 Up and away to the heavenly hills, 
 
 And all the space of eternity fills. 
 Into the realm of fadeless day 
 They're slipping away, slipping away. 
 
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 A DREAM 
 
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 ■^^^SS^H, a wondrous trip, in a swift dream 
 ym^--^^K^ I made on the smooth slumber sea, 
 
 
 And anchor was cast, and the ship 
 made fast 
 To the shore of eternity. 
 
 From the silent deep, of the sea of sleep, 
 Rose the beautiful silver strand : 
 
 And a stairway white with glistening light 
 Led up to the wonderful land. 
 
 Oh, glad little feet, with soft step and fleet. 
 That tripped up the bright stairway ; 
 
 A white-robed throng, in heavenly song. 
 Speeding up to the realms of day. 
 
 But one little face turned back to the place. 
 Where apart, in the dark, I stayed ; 
 
 And a soft child-kiss — my lost mother-bliss — 
 On my quivering lips was laid. 
 
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 LAID AWAg 
 
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 WAS years ago I first laid away 
 Little dresses, faded and torn; 
 Shoes that still echoed the baby steps, 
 All the wee things our Fay had 
 worn; 
 E'en the blue hood, from which the sweet face 
 
 Ne'er had seemed to fade away, — 
 
 Motherless dolls and toys of all kinds, — 
 
 And, oh, the tears I shed that day ! 
 
 Next, — God forgive me, — with heart like stone. 
 
 And hard set face, and tearless eyes, 
 I gathered the things our boy had worn : 
 
 His hat, dress suit, and gay neckties, 
 His "ev'ry-day clothes" and shoes and hat. 
 
 Books and papers, ball and gun. 
 Thick-strewn with our blighted hopes and plans, 
 
 I laid them away, one by one. 
 
 Then, with trembling hands and quiv'ring lips, ^p 
 
 In one great trunk I laid away ^p 
 
 A bridal veil and orange blossoms, — ^O/? 
 
 Still breathing fragrance of the day, W 
 
 23 §0^ 
 
A year before, when our Kate was wed, — 
 
 With little gowns of dainty make. 
 That told of quickening mother-love — 
 
 Ah, God doth give and God doth take. 
 
 Now, blinding tears so dim my sight, 
 
 These things I hold I scarce can see — 
 John's empty coat and his well-worn hat, 
 
 His walking cane and specs, — ah, me 
 It is hard to lay them all away, ^[^ 
 
 Then onward tread life's path alone. 
 Without the clasp of his tender hand 
 
 And strong, brave arm to lean upon. 
 
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 Blot out life's few remaining years; 
 
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 O Father above, give strength I pray ; w 
 
 O hush my grief, and dry my tears ; ^' 
 
 Let my soul look up, till visions bright 
 
 "^* And by John's side near the great white throne ^f 
 
 With our children three I'll stand, k;/ 
 
 Our earthly garments laid away ^\ji 
 
 For shining robes in Glory-land. ^i\p 
 
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 WHAT IS LEFT? 
 
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 HAT has grief left to me of good ? 
 The surest things, life, thou 
 
 hast, 
 My all-enduring mother-past, 
 And faith's unending motherhood. 
 
 Swift the heralds of fame take flight, 
 Scarce poising e'en to sing our song, 
 Our joy bells clang with pain and wrong. 
 
 Our golden treasure fades from sight. 
 
 But, ah, my sure, sure mother-past. 
 
 With touch and thrill, and word and kiss. 
 My rich, rich store of mem'ry bliss. 
 
 Will all the things of time outlast. 
 
 Each day it comes to me anew, 
 
 Some baby curl the gold glint flings, 
 
 The lost tone some dear child-voice brings, 
 
 A soft eye holds the tint of blue. 
 
 Expectant e'er, I look about, 
 
 I ne'er can tell when these blest gleams 
 May flood my past with bright sunbeams. 
 
 And drive the misty shadows out. 
 
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 "^•"^•^5i-^==S.''=5i-^=^=i 
 

 Through faith's eternal motherhood, 
 
 With best of earth and heav'n inwrought, 
 Symbol of God's divinest thought, 
 
 I reach and grasp eternal good. 
 
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 CHRISTMAS CHIMES 
 
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 gH, Christmas chimes, ring soft, ye, 
 and low 
 Over the little ones under the 
 snow; 
 For now they sleep. 
 And mothers weep. 
 
 Ye Christmas chimes, oh, tenderly peal 
 O'er the wee beds where mothers kneel 
 
 And blossoms lay 
 
 This Christmas day. 
 
 Oh, Christmas chimes, sweet comfort ring, 
 For the sorrowing hearts new hope bring 
 
 Of light, and love, 
 
 And joy above. 
 
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 MO MORE, A/ND CJET AGAIM 
 
 more the air doth bear for me 
 
 The soft child-tones erewhile I 
 knew; 
 Old haunts are still, and emptily 
 The morn's breath echoes through. 
 
 No more the light of bright day-dawn 
 May steal across the rosy face, 
 zfAK From whence its brightest tints were drawn ; 
 M^ And light has lost each rose-hue trace. 
 
 No more in rest is pressed a bed. 
 It stands untouched in silent white ; 
 
 A chair that rocked in gay gold-red 
 
 Stands noiseless now by day and night. 
 
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 And empty air, and bare white light, 
 0^ Wee, untouched bed and silent chair, 
 
 Have stilled my mother-heart's best right, 
 The child-love joy God planted there. 
 
 But heav'n's daybreak will wake my heart 
 
 0^ With thrill of mother-chords again. 
 
 And joy-notes then will bear their part ^ 
 
 In full orchestral strain. W 
 
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 Mg WELCOME 
 
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 OTHER is coming," glad rings the 
 cry, 
 And swiftly the eager, wee feet fly. 
 Out to the gate. 
 Where I smile and wait, 
 With answering lip and tender eye. 
 
 Ever and ever when far away, 
 The tripping, eager feet and gay, 
 
 The welcome glad. 
 
 From my little lad, 
 Made short the way and sweet the day. 
 
 But the voice and feet one day were still. 
 And the stillness all life's space must fill. 
 
 Home is dreary. 
 
 My heart is weary. 
 And hard for years seemed the Father's will. 
 
 Then at last there came (perhaps I dreamed) 
 A flash of light; the heavens gleamed. 
 
 And shining feet. 
 
 And voices sweet 
 Were welcoming mothers home, it seemed. 
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So, with smiling face I look on high, 
 
 And list for that clear, ringing cry 
 
 Of welcome glad ^0^ 
 
 From my little lad, W 
 
 " Mother is coming," and heaven is nigh. w 
 
 
 
 
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IBN 16 BOO 
 
.['pRARy OF 
 
 CONGRESS 
 
 ° 0^^348 769 1