# LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. V ||hagPS-U^ |og S ti S I>t ^ r o I 4 1 ^ J UNITED. STATES OF AMERICA. J SWALLOW-FLIGHTS HARRIET McEWEN KIMBALL. Nor dare she trust a larger lay, But rather loosens from the lip Short swallow-flights of song, that dip Their wings in tears, and skim away. Tennyson. COPYRIGHT^ NEW YORK: E. P. DUTTON AND COMPANY. 713 Broadway. 1874- Entered, according to act of Congress, in the year 1874, by Harriet McEwen Kimball, In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. RIVERSIDE, CAMBRIDGE: PRINTED BY H. O. HOUGHTON AND COMPANY. CONTENTS. I. PAGE The Flight of the Birds . . . . . . i In Spring-time . . . ... . . 2 Bride and Saint . . . . . .... 4 Summer-time 5 Incognita 7 The Singer . . 8 The Morning Chamber 9 June Songs 11 I. Caprice . . . 11 II. Faithlessness ....... 11 III. Constancy 12 IV. Petition . 13 V. Expectancy . . . . . . . 13 Song 15 In Reverie . . .- . . ... .16 Song . . . 17 White Azaleas 18 Song 19 Sweet-Peas . . . . . ' . . . . 20 Midsummer Morning 23 Day-Dreaming 24 The Last Appeal , 25 IV CONTENTS. PAGE Day-Lilies 26 My Wish 29 The Crickets 30 To a Sleeping Child 31 The Home among the Hills 32 Nothing to Do 34 Difference 36 Heliotrope 37 The Coat 40 The Fairy Taper 4 1 Song 43 A Glimpse of Heaven 44 To the Blue Gentian 45 The Lovely Sleeper . . ...... . 47 In Autumn 48 Vive la Reine 53 Good News 54 Rose and Thorn 56 II. Woman 59 Abraham Lincoln 62 III. All in All 67 Quicken Thou Me 69 The Divine Love . . . ... . -70 As Thou wilt 72 God's Silence 73 " Peace, Troubled Soul" ...... 75 CONTENTS. V PAGE In the Garden 77 Hid with Christ . 80 The Lowest Place 82 The Monk of La Trappe 83 Pass Lightly Earth 86 The Night- Watch 88 The Feast-time of the Year 90 A Little Christmas Sermon 92 Immanuel 99 Mary Mother 96 The Nativity 100 The Holy Child 105 Hymns for Lent 107 Easter-Even Violets . . . . . 109 Easter Carol in Easter Day 113 The Common Offering 116 " Let -your Light so Shine" .... 117 In the Shadow of the Cross 118 A Prayer for Patience 120 A Psalm of Weariness 122 A Morning Hymn 123 " It is I" 124 A Group by Twilight 229 The Unspoken Prayer 128 A Vigil 129 When I Awake 130 THE FLIGHT OF THE BIRDS. WISE little birds, how do ye know The way to go, Southward and northward, to and fro ? Far up in the ether piped they : "We but obey One who calleth us far away. 'He calleth and calleth year by year," Now there, now here ; Ever He maketh the way appear." Dear little birds ! He calleth me Who calleth ye ; Would that I might as trusting be ! IN SPRING-TIME. LL rosy-white the orchard shows, All blossom-sweet the west wind blows, And sights and scents together bring To yearning hearts the joy of Spring. Through sunny vapors streams the sun, And lights and showers blend in one ; The fragrant rain through fragrance falls. And grape-vines bud on sheltering walls. Out-warbling from his generous throat, The golden robin's golden note Calls to the lily and the rose Still greenly hid in leafy close. Hills capt with silence, as with snow, Catch laughter faint of brooks below. With starry dandelions gay The meadows mimic night by day. IN SPRING-TIME. Dim-cloistered in the odorous wood, A shadow-loving sisterhood, The wild flowers that the sun forswear, Are pale as pious nuns with prayer. Like one refreshed by balmy sleep, Her inmost bosom warm and deep A-throb with beauty yet unborn, Earth breathes away the blissful morn. From sunny nooks that dream of bloom To where gray moss o'ergrows the tomb, Floats everywhere that precious breath — The Life that ever conquers Death. This is the joy of Spring, indeed \ The witness glad to Word and Creed ; The lovely Parable of Earth That pointeth to Immortal Birth ! BRIDE AND SAINT. HEY should be silver bells that ring, Lovely one, for thy wedding ; Silver bells the bells should be That ring for thee. They should be bells of purest gold, Sweet saint, for thy passing tolled ; Golden bells the bells should be That toll for thee. SUMMER-TIME. RUMMER'S breath has kissed the lovely bloom From the apple trees : Out of flower-cups, dripping with perfume, Sip the honey-bees. Where the vines are strung with roses red Dart the humming-birds ; Winds, like lovers, in the boughs overhead, Whisper tender words. Clover-crested are the waves of grass Where the little feet Frolic, deep in coolness, as I pass From the sunny street. When, at eve, o'er field and fen and brake Misty curtains fall, Fire-flies, in their meteor dances, make Nightly Carnival. SUMMER-TIME. In the dark I watch the happy sight, Thinking oft of thee : As the twinkling fire-flies to the night, Are those thoughts to me ! INCOGNITA. EILED in verse, who knows Whether I smile or weep ? Slippered in fancies, who can tell What measure of step I keep ? Lift the veil, dear Love ! To thee I will show my face ; Hark, and thine ear shall surely hear My heart's inaudible pace ! THE SINGER. HE sits and sings in the room below, A tender ballad of love and woe, Wedded to music plaintive and slow. And who would dream that her heart is gay, While she singeth so sad a lay — Seeming to pour her soul away ? Why not ? She doeth her heart no wrong ; Lips joy-laden the whole day long Well can afford to sorrow in song! So keep her, Heaven ! nor let her know Other sighings than those that flow, Rhythmic, through ballads of love and woe. THE MORNING CHAMBER. I. HIS flower-like chamber, delicately-walled, Of softest tints, low-ceiled, wide and fair, Where pensive meditations seem installed Like cloistered nuns long-motionless in prayer ; This lovely chamber, looking south and east Across green seas of rippling foliage dense, Whose waiting windows catch the first and least Soft glimmer from that heavenly chamber whence The sun rejoicing cometh ; this sweet room, While folded yet in slumbers incomplete The whole fair house beside lies wrapt in gloom — This morning chamber, high above the street. Day's silent glory floods and overflows With golden calm that crowns the night's repose. ii. High noon ! and fuller floods of sunshine pour Into this shining chamber, till it seems — 10 THE MORNING CHAMBER. The very hidden rafters, secret beams — To swim in splendor ! I but cross the floor And I forget 'tis Winter, keen as clear. To the swift eyes of mine imagining Wide stand the windows, and the breath of Spring, Sweet courier of the violets, is here. I half resolve to hie me out and see How like a tiny army they possess The earth — the violets, with their loveliness, When, of a sudden, breaks my reverie ! But the warm flood fills all the chamber yet, And, ere it ebbs, I will again forget ! in. Fair as the peace that like a river flows, Across the room the cloudless moonlight streams ; Recess and corner dusk its hallowing beams Suffuse with mist-like glimmer of repose. So hushed this chamber, and so rapt this tide Of visible calm, that blessed visions rise Of the Great City of Peace beyond the skies — Of crystal waters that perpetual glide From out the Throne, swift light descending light, Forever and forever, with a sound Of inconceivable music, music-drowned In rain of benediction from the might And majesty of One enthroned above — The Light of Light, whose Name of Names is Love ! JUNE SONGS. I. CAPRICE. jlHE rose is dead in my Lady's bower ; The love is dead in my Lady's heart ! The rose was only a summer flower, Born to die in a summer hour — To yield its life to the passionate shower That tore its radiant leaves apart. The rose-tree will blossom again, I know, But what care I for to-morrow's flower ? Some idle wind will capriciously blow ; The rain's wild feet will trample it ; O Pluck it who will ! for myself I go And leave the rose in my Lady's bower ! II. FAITHLESSNESS. O light and many thy words ; O well were they earnest and few ! 12 JUNE SONGS. O sweet and false are thy words ; O well were they bitter and true ! Take back the pledge I have worn — The red, red rose in my breast ! Alas ! could I pluck out the thorn That tortures this heart of unrest ! III. CONSTANCY. I rifled a leaf from the heart of a rose : — Believe ! believe ! Though love comes lightly, not lightly it goes ; It steals through our veins and our youth's white flower Blossoms in crimson from that hour; Life of our life, it cannot deceive ! I love thee, I love thee, believe ! fancies are fitful as breezes that blow — Believe ! believe ! They come to us lightly, more lightly they go \ Diviner than duty, and stronger than will, Love, the sweet mystery, rules me still ; Tyranny tender, it cannot deceive ; 1 love thee, I love thee, believe ! JUNE SONGS. 13 IV. PETITION. Only the roses will hear ; Dear, Only the roses will see ! This once — just this ! Ah, the roses I wis They envy me ! Here is a half-blown spray ; Say, This shall Love's anadem be ! A rose-strung wreath For thy brow, and beneath A rose for me ! V. EXPECTANCY. Summer, rain me a rain of rose-leaves ; Only on rose-leaves she shall tread ! Summer, rain me a rain of rose-leaves Over the banquet Love hath spread. Never Orient feast so splendid, Viands so costly, wines so rare ; 14 JUNE SONGS. Never showers of bloom descended Veiling a princess half so fair ! Summer, make her a couch of roses, Pillows of rose-leaves lightly prest ; Odors sweet when my Love reposes Dreamily drifting round her rest ! Come, Beloved, the feast awaits thee ; Cruelly traitor moments flee ! Is it sorrow or joy belates thee ? Heedest thou ought unshared by me ! Coming t O rapture more than mortal ! Softly the gates of bliss unclose ; Silence, guarding the sacred portal, Wears in her breast the symbol rose ! SONG. OME with the birds in the spring, Thou whose voice rivaleth theirs ; Come with the flowers and bring Sweet shame to their bloom unawares ! Come, — but O how can I wait ! Come through the snows of to-day ! Come, and the gray earth elate Shall leap for thy sake into May ! IN REVERIE. N the West the weary Day Folds its amber wings and dies Night, the long-delaying Night, Walks abroad in starry guise. Rest more precious than a sleep, Silence sweeter than a dream — These enfold me as I float, Idle waif on idle stream ! In the rippling trees I hear Flowing waves and dipping oars ; And beloved voices near Seem to steal from fading shores : Fainter — fainter — fainter still ! . . By no breath of passion crossed, With the tide I drift and glide Out to sea and all is lost ! SONG. BLUE sky ! do you care That I am sick and sad ? That I should miss forever the bliss I might have had ? Little cloud, float on, And somewhere drop your tears; One brief hour weep as I must weep Through friendless years ! Through friendless years, unless — O blue sky ! would you care If you should miss a face like this Some morning fair ? The little cloud spreads wide, The tender rains descend, And now I weep to know that I keep In heaven a friend ! 2 WHITE AZALEAS. gZALEAS — whitest of white ! White as the drifted snow Fresh-fallen out of the night, Before the coming glow Tinges the morning light \ When the light is like the snow, White, And the silence is like the light ; Light, and silence, and snow, — All — white ! White ! not a hint Of the creamy tint A rose will hold, The whitest rose, in its inmost fold ; Not a possible blush ; White as an embodied hush ; A very rapture of white ; A wedlock of silence and light. White, white as the wonder undefiled Of Eve just wakened in Paradise : Nay, white as the angel of a child That looks into God's own eyes ! SONG. HE wind blows out of the west, The wind is merry and free ; It brings fair weather for us, love, Fair weather for thee and me. The sun shines out of the east, And dances over the sea \ The world's a-glitter for us, love, A-glitter for thee and me. And now the world's a-dusk, The nest unstirred on the tree ; The fair moon hangs at its full, love, And shineth for thee and me. SWEET-PEAS. WEET-Peas ! Sweet-Peas ! The very sweetest of all sweet things Airily poised, like butterfly-wings, On the slender stem. And now they brood in a still delight ; And anon, as the light wind touches them, They tremble and flutter, as feigning flight, In coyness — not affright. And, lest they fly, The tricksy Zephyr passes by With a little moan of make-believe, And pretends to die Among the cherry trees ! They only smile — they will not grieve, The gay and shy Sweet-Peas ! Sweet-Peas! Sweet-Peas.! The very sweetest of all sweet things ! Perfect pink and perfect white; Exhaling a perfume so rare, so pure, SWEET PEAS. 21 It ceaseth never to allure, Nor faileth ever to satisfy : Like a breath of immortality \ Like a hint of youth unspent for aye ; Of love .... Ah, well-a-day ! Say, ye sweetest of all sweet things, Sweet-Peas, What are ye likest ? — what like ye ? The dream of Beauty, the w r onder that clings To snowy-lidded Innocence — ■ These mystic nebulae (Souls of flowers to be), Lightly drifted hence, And, mingling, straightway they became Visible in pink and white, In dainty-delicate forms like these, And gat themselves a name ; Dew-christened in laver of morning light, u Sweet-Peas ! " Sweet-Peas ! Sweet-Peas ! Here is a handful for her to wear Who is sweet like them, and more stately-fair. Lie nosegay of blushes mid snows of lace, And match the bloom of her maiden face When cometh her own sweetheart to share The posy modest and debonair, 22 SWEET PEAS. Whose dear bestowal shall bring him ease And sweet assurances, Dispelling sweet anxieties, Sweet-Peas ! And will ye have a sweetheart, too, Sweet-Peas, Sweet-Peas ? Then here 's Zephyr come back to woo, If you please ! Nay, but Zephyr is a flirt ! Make again your winged threat Till in very truth he fret — What's the hurt? — And die among the cherry trees For love of you, Sweet-Peas ! MIDSUMMER MORNING. AY rises veiled in amber mists That swathe the hill and shroud the plain • And in the breathless air, unstirred, The trees are dripping as with rain. Like tents along the emerald sward, Pitched by the fairies of the night, In the wet grass ephemeral webs Are scattered, gleaming silver white. Dew-drenched the flowers ; the heavy vines Hang from the wall, or trail the ground ; And lifeless seems the garden-place, So lately filled with murmurous sound. But slowly, slowly lifts the mist — From heaven's blue face it curls away ; And through the trembling, glistening leaves The glorious sunbeams flame and play ! DAY-DREAMING. ]0W better am I Than a butterfly ? Here, as the noiseless hours go by, Hour by hour, I cling to my fancy's half-blown flower : Over its sweetness I brood and brood, And scarcely stir, though sounds intrude That would trouble and fret another mood Less divine Than mine ! Who cares for the bees ! I will take my ease, Dream and dream as long as I please • Hour by hour, With love-wings fanning my sweet, sweet flower ! Gather your honey, and hoard your gold, Through spring and summer, and hive through cold ! I will cling to my flower till it is mouldy Breathe one sigh And die ! THE LAST APPEAL. j|HE room is swept and garnished for thy sake ; The table spread with Love's most liberal cheer ; The fire is blazing brightly on the hearth ; Faith lingers yet to give thee welcome here. When wilt thou come ? Daily I weave the airy web of hope — Frail as the spider's, wrought with beads of dew — That, like Penelope's, each night undone, Each morn in patience I begin anew. When wilt thou come ? Not yet ? To-morrow Faith will take her flight, The fire die out, the banquet disappear ; Forever will these fingers drop the web, And only desolation wait thee here. O come to-day ! DAY-LILIES. SUMMER day, Delay ! delay ! One waving of thy brooding wing, One stirring of thy hazy wing, And noontide light and heat Will find my dewy shadow-lair, And burn the coolness from the grasses That swathe my feet In rank and billowy masses ; And to this claustral twilight bring The sun's profanest glare. O summer day, Delay ! delay ! Let naked hill and bare brown field Parch in thy torrid ray, So this dim nook be unrevealed, Where I, Deliciously concealed, Among the lilies lie. DAY-LILIES. 2 7 The delicate Day-lilies ! The white and wonderful lilies ! My dark green haunt so still is The wildest birdling dare not sing, Nor insect beat a gossamer wing, Nor zephyr lift the lightest thing, — Here, where the lustrous lilies, The clear, resplendent lilies, Pour out their heavenly-sweet perfume, And with their snowiness, In clusters chaste, illume This dusk recess. Soft-footed Silence, royal nun ! In this thy humid, emerald cell Forever dwell ! These flowers supernal ever shine, Pure-flamed, before thy virgin shrine ! Here, one by one, Tell o'er thy glistering, roral beads, — A rosary strung on tangled weeds, And blades and stems that intertwist. The breath of lilies be thy prayers, Sweet-odored, wafted unawares Up through the morning's lucent airs And evening's pallid mist ! The glittering stars shall o'er thee pass, 28 DAY-LILIES. Deep-pillowed in the heavy grass ; These broad, smooth lily-leaves shall be A glossy coverlet for thee, Thy prayers and penance done, O royal nun ! By day or night, In dark or light, Thy fragrant shrine shall be the same ; These slender tapers lambent still, Nor blazing sun, nor mildew chill, Shall quench their alabaster flame. A gleam, as of a crystal wand ! And Day peers in with curious face ; The jealous sunshine, stealing round, Doth warily chase The cool, dank shadows on the ground; The cloister-walls no longer stand ; A garish glory fills the space, And lights the lush grass, loose and long ; And startled by the wild bird's song, Soft-footed Silence flees apace ; But still serene the lilies shine, Pure-flamed, before her ruined shrine ! MY WISH. HE wish I wished was dream-fulfilled, And, when I woke I could not bear To find the phantasy of sleep Had vanished in the morning air. I rose and slew it with a vow : — " Vain wish, I '11 cherish thee no more ! " I flung it in Oblivion's stream And saw it drifting from the shore. Still the dark waves that rolled away- Tossed back its plaintive moan to me, As up from Hebrus rose the wail, 66 Eurydice ! Eurydice ! " THE CRICKETS. IPE, little minstrels of the waning year. In gentle concert pipe ! Pipe the warm noons ; the mellow har- vest near ; The apples dropping ripe ; The tempered sunshine, and the softened shade ; The trill of lonely bird ; The sweet sad hush on Nature's gladness laid ; The sounds through silence heard ! Pipe tenderly the passing of the year ; The summer's brief reprieve ; The dry husk rustling round the yellow ear ; The chill of dawn and eve ! Pipe the untroubled trouble of the year j Pipe low the painless pain ; Pipe your unceasing melancholy cheer ; The year is in the wane ! TO A SLEEPING CHILD. OT thus, O joyous child, repose, With crossed hands on thy baby breast; Pathetic attitude of those Who wake not, stir not from their rest ! With dimpled arm thy head surround, Like as a bird with bonny wing ; Sure as a bird at morn to bound From this thy nest, and, bird-like, sing ! THE HOME AMONG THE HILLS. : IDWAY between these towering hills One lonely human dwelling ; The circling acres, culture swept, Its little history telling ! On either hand the meadow land Makes fair the mountain spaces With golden reach of buttercups And silver drift of daisies. Behind, the massive forest wall ; Before, the river running ; And close about the little cot The signs of human cunning : The signs so homely and so sweet That draw us to each other, And make the daily life of man Familiar to his brother. We know the hand at early morn That cottage hearth-fire kindling ; THE HOME AMONG THE HILLS. 33 We watched the dropping of this corn ; We wait its purple spindling ! A part have we in all the toils Of these our mountain neighbors ; A portion in the precious gain Heaven winnows from their labors. We taste their trials, share their feasts, And, with a passing wonder, We linger even while we go, Their choice, their lot to ponder. Amid the grandeur and the gloom On every hand abiding, A flower of human blossoming This little home is hiding. What tender wind of Providence The small seed hither drifted, Where yet these shadows vast may fall On village spires uplifted ? Less awful seem those hills august, Less lone the valley's glooming, Since in this wilderness the rose Of human life is blooming ! NOTHING TO DO. STRIP of snowiest linen Half-broidered and stamped in blue, And the gleam of a threadless needle Piercing the pattern through : The needle is ready, yet the sweet little lady Sits sighing for something to do. Heaped on the table beside her Blossoms of every hue ; Delicate, odorous roses — The rarest that ever grew : The vase stands ready while the sweet little lady Sits wishing for something to do. Half hid under flowers a volume In daintiest gold and blue, Just parted, as if it would open At " The Miller's Daughter " for you : The book lies ready, yet the sweet little lady Sits sighing for something to do. NOTHING TO DO. 35 A silent harp in the corner, And melodies old and new Scattered in pretty disorder — Songs of the false and the true ; The harp stands ready — still the sweet little lady Sits longing for something to do. A sudden wind-sweep and flutter — The door wide open blew ; A step in the hall, and swiftly, Like a bird, to the threshold she flew : Blushing, already the sweet little lady Forgets she has nothing to do ! DIFFERENCE. HERE are sorrowful eyes that seldom weep; Hearts that in speechless patience keep Vigils of anguish while seeming to sleep. There are yearning eyes that a thought may fill ; "Hearts that cry out against their will, .And only in breaking learn to be still. HELIOTROPE. : WEETEST, sweetest Heliotrope ! In the sunset's dying splendor, In the trance of twilight tender, All my senses I surrender, To the subtle spells that bind me : The dim air swimmeth in my sight With visions vague of soft delight ; Shadowy hands with endless chain Of purple-clustered bloom enwind me ; - Garlands drenched in dreamy rain Of perfume passionate as sorrow And sad as Love's to-morrow ! Bewildering music fills mine ears — Faint laughter and commingling tears — Flowing like delicious pain Through my drowsy brain. Bosomed in the blissful gloom — Meseems I sink on slumberous slope Buried deep in purple bloom, Sweetest, sweetest Heliotrope ! 38 HELIOTROPE. Undulates the earth beneath me ; Still the shadow-hands enwreath me, And clouds of faces half defined, Lovely and fantastical, Sweet — O sweet ! — and strange withal, Sweeping like a desert wind Across my vision leave me blind ! Subtler grows the spell and stronger ; What enchantments weird possess me — Now uplift me, now oppress me ! Do I feast, or do I hunger ! Is it bliss, or is it anguish ! Is it Auster's treacherous breath Kissing me with honeyed death, While I sicken, droop, and languish ! Still I feel my blood's dull beat In my head and hands and feet ; Struggling faintly with thy sweetness, Heliotrope ! Heliotrope ! Give me back my strength's completeness. Must I pine and languish ever ! Wilt thou loose my senses never ! Wilt thou bloom and bloom for ever, O Lethean Heliotrope ! Ah, the night-wind, freshly blowing, HELIOTROPE. 39 Sets the languid blood a-flowing ! I revive ! — I escape thy spells alive ! Flower ! I love and do not love thee ; Hold my breath, but bend above thee ; Crush thy buds, yet bid them ope ; Sweetest, sweetest Heliotrope ! THE COAT. 1ERCURIUS wove a coat Of the finest thread of wit ; "Wear it," he said to his jesting friends, " You whom the coat may fit." Now he to whose lot it fell Sore-envied all the rest, For strange to say it gave the least ease To him whom it fitted best. THE FAIRY TAPER. BOVE me all the stars of night Thick clustering make the darkness bright ; And in the darkling grass below Shines out with swift, responsive glow A tiny, steadfast, lucid ray ; Anon as swiftly dies away. Again it comes ; again it goes ; And still with equal lustre glows. — Now I bethink me 'tis the light Of some sweet fairy of the night ; A taper-flame of emerald hue Put out by silver showers of dew ! But O the invisible hands that bear The fairy candlestick in air, — To see them strike the fairy light And lift the flame in mortal sight, To guide her hastening lover true The forest of the grasses through ! Fall faster yet an fall you must, Small dew that lays the fairy dust ! 42 THE FAIRY TAPER. Oft as you quench her lovely light This little lady of the night Will still renew the gem-like flame That hour by hour will burn the same ; While lover fond and lady true Defy the darkness and the dew ! " Who told you ? " (whispered in my ear) : A little Glow-worm told me, dear ! SONG. O-MORROW has trouble to lend To all who lack to-day ; Go, borrow it — borrow, griefless heart, An thou with thy peace wilt pay ! To-morrow has trouble to lend — An endless, endless store ; But I have as much as heart can hold — Why should I borrow more ! A GLIMPSE OF HEAVEN, HE clouds are breaking — radiant scene ! Blue, blue as only heaven is blue — The heaven that Heaven itself smiles through Unfolds its depths serene. O fair as Hope the rainbow gleams The tempest's angry frown above, But lovely as the Face of Love Yon revelation seems ! TO THE BLUE GENTIAN. NFOLD, O fairest Flower, and share The benediction of this air That softly floweth everywhere, And blesseth most the things most fair ! Twice welcome flowers when flowers grow few ; Thrice welcome, thou, of heavenly hue — The rarest, tenderest shade of blue That Earth's dear bosom ever knew ! The Golden Rod resigns his plume, And all frail beauty seeks a tomb, Bequeathing thee more ample room Wherein to set thy fairer bloom. Unfold, thy gentle right to claim, O Flower of softest tint and name ! Thy bashfulness delays like shame, Yet lovelier makes thy lovely fame. 46 TO THE BLUE GENTIAN. To exile only half-resigned, Her locks with violet-memories twined, Departing Summer turns to find How fair a thing she leaves behind. And since the Summer henceward flies, Thou, darling of these lonely skies, The dearer art to human eyes, Unfolding as a sweet surprise ! THE LOVELY SLEEPER. O sleep's soft vapors make This glory round her head ? What angels would not Heaven forsake To watch so fair a bed ! Ye starriest and most pure, Descend in hushed array ! Yet, nay ! lest ye should come to lure This purer one away ! IN AUTUMN. HE cool, bright days, The calm, bright days, With their liberal-hearted noons ! The clear, still nights, The restful nights, With their greatening harvest-moons \ And the ghostly rustle of withered corn Plucked of its ivory ears and shorn Of the floating fringes that tossed and swayed When the ripening summer zephyr played Through the ranks that shone in the summer morn — The beautiful corn ! IN AUTUMN. 49 The golden days ! the golden days ! Warm with sunshine and dreamy with haze ; Warm with the sunshine and cool with the breeze ! Like troops of tropical butterflies Clouds of leaves from the gorgeous trees Flutter and fall, And cover the earth with splendid dyes Matching the marvels of sunset skies. Swell beyond swell the hills uplift — The hills serene ; Slope beyond slope they ebb away Into the distance azure-gray ; And over them all, Through veils of amethyst vaguely seen Magical lights incessantly shift, Moved by the wonder hands of Day — Over the hills serene ! No ripple breaks The lucid lakes Up from whose margins the gay banks climb — Into whose deeps the shadows descend Like sunken gardens in their prime, Whose softly-pictured terraces end In emerald grottoes where Naiads dream While the unstirred rushes over them stream. 4 50 IN AUTUMN. From the woodbine draping the cottage thatch The wandering winds as they pass, Tenderly, one by one, detach Leaves of crimson that flame in the sun : One by one, Slowly downward they waver, and twirl, And alight on the trampled grass. Day by day the vine-leaves curl Revealing the heavily-hanging grapes In tempting clusters of rarest shapes, That out of the heart of summer grew ; Dusky-purple and amber-white, Warmed in the nooning and cooled in the night, Mingled of honey, and sunlight, and dew. The breeze through the orchard-alley sweeps, And russet-brown leaves in dusty heaps Eddy and whirl ; And russet-brown apples, and rosy-cheeked, Fall from the rudely half-rifled bough ; Strewing the grassy patch With its footpath trail below, Where the bare-headed, sun-burnt farmer's girl Gathers the fairest and leaves the rest For the gold-brown bee in his honey quest, And the zealous ants that busily swarm Over the bruises mellow and warm ; While chicks full feathered and vellow-beaked IN AUTUMN. 5 1 Roam in the sunshine and leisurely scratch For the helpless worm withdrawing its coil Lazily into the loosened soil. Streaming in at the wide barn door Warm lies the sun on the well-worn floor Scattered with wisps of straw and grain From the generous wain. Heaped high as the rafters the sweet-smelling hay O'erhangs the bursting loft, And a breath from the orchard croft Stirs the loosened spears, and they drop away Noiselessly-soft ! The mellow days ! the mellow days \ The brown seed ripens and bursts the pod \ The brown seed ripens, the stem decays, The black root rotting under the sod. The lattice o'er-straggled by faded vines Leans to its fall, And here and there by the garden wall And beside the late-neglected walks, Amid blackened weeds and mouldering stalks, Where the fly in his mail of emerald shines, Flowers of garish beauty bloom Like torches that flare at the mouth of a tomb. Phantom of summer, silver fair, 52 IN AUTUMN. Peacefully restless through the air With the unseen currents that softly flow Drifts the thistle-down to and fro. The yellow days ! the yellow days ! Fields of stubble and naked ways ! The year's last gold On the uttermost bough Flutters mournfully now ! The sumach that burned like the bush of old Is almost stripped of its fire ; And trampled out by the rains that beat The sodden paths with their million feet The last bright hues expire ! "VIVE LA REINE." ITH the Robin for poet-laureate, And the May-flowers for her train, And her innocence for her robe of state,. The baby began her reign. The pretty head with its curly crown Knows nothing of royal woes ; For love is softer than eider-down, And yieldeth her sweet repose. There are loyal and loving hearts alone In the wee one's fair domain ; And they make the Robin's song their own, For he singeth, " Vive la Reine ! " GOOD NEWS ! BEE flew in at my window, And circled around my head ; He came like a herald of summer-time, And what do you think he said ? " As sure as the roses shall blossom " — These are the words he said — " As sure as the gardens shall laugh in pride, And the meadows blush clover-red ; " As sure as the golden robin Shall build her a swinging nest, And the captured sunbeam lie fast-locked In the marigold's burning breast ; '•' As sure as the water-lilies Shall float like a fairy fleet : As sure as the torrent shall leap the rocks With foamy, fantastic feet ; GOOD NEWS. 55 " As sure as the bobolink's carol And the plaint of the whippoorwill Shall gladden the morning, and sadden the night, And the crickets pipe loud and shrill ; " So sure to the heart of the maiden Who hath loved and sorrowed long, Glad tidings shall bring the summer of joy With bursting of blossom and song ! " A seer as well as a herald ! For while I sat weeping to-day, The tenderest, cheeriest letter came From Lionel far away. Good news ! O little bee-prophet, Your words I will never forget ! It may be foolish — that dear, old sign — But Lionel '§ true to me yet ! ROSE AND THORN. HEARD Philosophy sigh, "No rose is without its thorn • " And Faith made sweet reply, " Of thorns are the roses born ! " II. WOMAN. 1862. [S though no shade of human wrong fell darkly on their beauty, And all men walked in brotherhood the shining ways of duty, The blessed summer days glide by in calm and sweet succession * God writes on Nature's palace-walls no curse against oppression. The strong man arms him for the fight ; he hears the bugle calling ; And while between the patriot-shouts her tears have time for falling, Pale woman plies the threaded steel, nor shapes her lips to singing, But still with every stitch she draws the pearls of prayer is stringing. 60 WOMAN. She thinks of those whose wounds are fresh ; of those in death-sleep lying, Whose brows of youth and manhood won their bright- est crowns in dying ; She thinks of others brave and true, hid in the smoke of battle, Where bayonets gleam, and cannon roar, and bullets hiss and rattle. She shudders while the words of fate along the wires are chasing, Or trembling waits the hurried line some comrade may be tracing ; Her heart grows faint ; she lifts her hands in an- guished imploration : " God save my soldier ! " first she prays, and then, " God save the nation ! " And when she moans : " The very thought of loss doth overcome me ! " Crying : " If it be possible, O, let this cup pass from me!" God chides her not if, choked with sobs, she adds to her petition But brokenly Christ's after-words of meekness and submission. WOMAN. 6l He saw her pale with victory in the dark hour of trial, When Self lay slain, and sorrowing Love was fettered with denial ; And the Divine One who alone can clearly read the human, Traces the Hero's autograph though tear-blots of the Woman. ABRAHAM LINCOLN. 1865. EST, rest for him whose noble work is clone ; For him who led us gently unaware Till we were readier to do and dare For Freedom, and her hundred fields were won. His march is ended where his march began : More sweet his sleep for toil and sacrifice, And that rare wisdom whose beginning lies In fear of God and charity for man : And sweetest for the tender faith that grew More strong in trial, and through doubt more clear, Seeing in clouds and darkness One appear In whose dread name the Nation's sword he drew . Rest, rest for him; and rest for us to-day Whose sorrow shook the land from east to west ABRAHAM LINCOLN. 63 When slain by Treason, on the Nation's breast Her martyr breathed his steadfast soul away. O fervent heart ! O cool and patient head ! O shoulders broad to bear all others' blame ! Mercy disguised herself beneath his name, And Justice through his lips like Pity plead. His truth could snare the wiliest of the earth ; His wit outweigh the ponderous debate ; By sneers unvexed, in triumph unelate, He stood our chief in place, our chief in worth. Behold, O kingdoms of the world, behold O mighty powers beyond the swelling wave, How fast as rain on his untitled grave The tears of millions mingle with the mould ! '& i Such love a prince might crave, such homage seek ; The people's love that clothed him like a king, The grateful trust those hands were swift to bring Whose broken fetters of deliverance speak. Four years ago unknown — to-day how dear ! Four years that tried him with a century's strain, While Treason led his wretched hosts in vain And turned Assassin when* his doom was near. 64 ABRAHAM LINCOLN. Four little years whose space a thought may span ; A niche in Time's vast hall where he doth stand, To win applause in every age and land, " The noblest work of God — an honest man." III. ALL IN ALL. f|H, can we see or can we hear The streams of Being flowing clear, That day by day, and year by year, In lesser being swift appear ? God hideth all — Himself most dread In light and silence garmented. The shining days His records keep ; The nights His scattered splendors reap ; His crystal chamber is the deep • His Self-thrown shade createth sleep. Hills at His touch give flame for flame ; The sea's soft thunders roll His Name. He walks the viewless waves of air ; The wild beasts, listening in their lair, With singing birds His bounty share, And all things living crowd His care. He knoweth neither great nor small Whose All is Love, whose Love is All ! 68 ALL IN ALL. Fair round His feet the flocks repose ; He breathes, and desert springs unclose ; The mountain drops its crown of snows ; The wilderness reveals its rose ; Even the senseless rock is drest For joy of Him in mossy vest. He is not to these mortal eyes, And yet He is ! the glad Earth cries Exulting with exultant skies : He is ! the thankful spirit sighs, Nor darkening space divides for Him The sons of men from Seraphim. Unseen He breaks the daily bread Wherewith our living souls are fed ; We know not when He lifts our head, Nor how the heart is comforted. We only know the cloud of sin From His pure Presence shuts us in. He speaks ; — our hearts within us burn ; In their unrest we slowly learn The sweet constraint of our return To Love that for its own doth yearn. From Him we came — to Him we go ; Life ebbs for Life's Eternal Flow. QUICKEN THOU ME. HE thorn is budding into life again, The quickened vine puts out its tender shoots, The warm, warm sunshine, and the cool, cool rain Feeding their hidden roots. Sweet Spirit, entering where no eye can see, Reach this poor heart in all its waiting need, And like the thorn and vine my life shall be When Thou its roots dost feed. THE DIVINE LOVE. PATIENT GOD, whom men forsake, All-kind, all-gracious as Thou art, How soon our faithlessness would break A human heart ! How vast must be the Love so strong, Its yearning, O how fathomless, That sin prolonged should yet prolong Thy tenderness ! Though we may slight that Love with doubt, Thy paths of sweet commandment spurn, Thou w r ilt in nowise cast him out Who would return ! The uttermost Thy Love doth reach ; And O the pathos of its cry, All humbled to our human speech : — " Why will ye die ? " THE DIVINE LOVE. 7 1 Were not Thy wide compassion more Than even all the powers of sin, These feet would never find Thy Door, And enter in. We see Thee as the suffering Christ With Cross and Passion bowed down ; Earth's meanest things for Thee sufficed, And Sorrow's crown, If only famished souls might flee Life's husks for Love's Eternal Feast, And all might dwell in bliss with Thee, — The very least ! "Lord, we repent! " . . . " Lord, we believe ! " . . . And Thou acceptest even this ? And faithless wanderers wilt receive With heavenly kiss ? O Love ! — we sink from Thine embrace Thy feet to kiss for evermore ! The humblest is the fittest place When souls adore ! AS THOU WILT. *T is so sweet to live My little life to-day, That I would never leave it, if I might forever stay ! — I sometimes say. I am so weary, Lord, I would lie down for aye, Could I but hear Thee speak the word : " Thy sins are washed away ! " — I sometimes say. The better mood that lies These moods between midway, Comes softly, and I lift my eyes : " Lord, as Thou wilt I " I pray ; And would alway. GOD'S SILENCE. EOD'S Silence ! Holiest speech that is, Is but a dew-fall out of this ; And human Love's own tongues of bliss But broken language caught from His. Why should we question, though our cry — " Lord hear me — answer, or I die ! " — Seems echoed from an empty sky ? He hears — He answers, utterly. "Lord, answer ! " And with shuddering breath, As those already doomed to death, We wait for Him who rescueth The very bird that perisheth. O sword of doubt, two-edged with pain, That cuts the quivering heart in twain ! As if His Love could ever wane ! As if our cry could be in vain ! 74 GOD'S SILENCE. His Silence ! once, indeed, it brake With Love's great stress, when He did take A mortal guise for Love's sweet sake, And spake as never mortal spake. Since He his own Divine did blend With Human in that Saviour-Friend, That we enough might comprehend His Love, to trust Him to the end \ And, guided by His perfect care, Find all dark places everywhere Wind upward, a celestial stair To Love's own heights, divinely fair ; He must forever bless ; and aye, At the dear break of Heaven's sweet day, Wipe all earth's bitter tears away, And give us more than heart can pray ! O, should He speak, and could we guess That Tongue of Infinite Tenderness, His Silence still would more express His Love's unspeakable excess ! PEACE, TROUBLED SOUL." ^&£^'|WEET grows the world to-day and fair, Seen through the Spring-time's lovely sheen — m A tender mist of golden-green, That veils the earth and fills the air. And lightly, softly blows the breeze, With blossom-odors interblent, And interwoven with their scent, The murmurous hum of golden bees. And mingling with their braided balm, A voice of dreamy sweetness near, Half sings, half sighs, in plaintive cheer, A strain that linketh calm with calm. On Nature's heart mine own I rest ; "Peace, troubled soul," she soft entreats : " Peace, troubled soul," the voice repeats, In the low psalm that suits me best. 76 "PEACE, TROUBLED SOUL." And through the mist of faith I see A vision fair of One who stands And stretches out His pierced hands, Saying, "My peace I give to thee." IN THE GARDEN. N this still garden in the cool of day I often meditate : — Should He who walked in Eden come this way And consecrate • This place of bloom with Presence passing fair And robes that make more sweet this summer air 1 Anon a Voice far off yet near I catch, And question, — Comes He now ? The virgin lilies that for Him keep watch Do lowly bow, And the meek grasses lowlier yet to greet His soft approach and reverent kiss His feet. But as for me who cannot see Him pass Yet fain would feel Him near, I bow me lowlier even than the grass, In love and fear, — Far lowlier than the lilies on their stem, And through them press to touch His garment's hem ! 78 IN THE GARDEN. More softly blows the summer wind to lift His mantle's sacred fold ; Through all the place sweet sighs and odors drift Like bliss half-told ; And in the fading west a single star Trembles with rapture watching Him afar ! And O that I should see that star remote Yet His near Glory miss Wherein the sun itself and stars do float As motes, I wis ! But since no man that Glory could abide How should I dare lament the sight denied ! — Dark, hushed and dark, the garden round me grows, The folded flowers more sweet ; I hearken long to hear Him where He goes With noiseless feet, Till the familiar place seems sad and strange And Eden to Gethsemane doth change. Through heavy silence falls the heavy dew, Like sweat of sorrow 7 wrung, As if the bitter cup were filled anew O'er which He hung. Whose Love, all love transcending, overcame — For us endured the Cross, despised the shame ! IN THE GARDEN. 79 Albeit against That Presence passing by These mortal eyes are sealed, I see This Other, like Him, standing nigh, To Faith revealed : At His dear feet on consecrated sod I cry like one of old : i: My Lord — my God ! " HID WITH CHRIST. LESSED Lord, in me fulfill Thy most sweet, most holy Will : From mine own that worketh ill Rescue me ! Thou, O Christ, my covert made — I, of sin alone afraid — Keep me henceforth unbetrayed, Hid with Thee ! There may self be crucified, Dying, Lord, as Thou hast died, That Thy Name be glorified Even in me. Sharp the pangs, but pangs are brief; Death of self is death of grief; Conqueror Thou of Conquerors Chief, Smite Thou me ! HID WITH CHRIST. Lying low, as Thou hast lain, Victor, Victor yet again, From the warring creature slain Raise Thou me ! Quickened with the Life Divine, Then indeed shalt Thou enshrine (Love in Love !) this life of mine- Hid with Thee. Rest no joy of earth can bring, Peace that takes from pain the sting, Triumph over everything Not of Thee; — This, O blessed Lord, my gain, Be the life no more to wane Vocal with this one refrain : " Praise to Thee ! " THE LOWEST PLACE. jj|OT that I may be chiefest. Lord, But that I may obey More closely Thy most sweet commands, Teach me to serve, I pray. Not that I may be honored more Who am indeed the least, I would the lowest place like one Grace-bidden to the feast ; IBut that Thy smile, my blessed Lord, Might reach that lowest place, And show 7 me, though the last and least, The fullness of that grace. THE MONK OF LA TRAPPE. WHAT abounding grace ! Of one we read Whose piteous wound in lieu of speech did bleed (As if even Nature's self for him would plead) ; Who mid his silent brethren silent went Two weary years on prayer and labor bent, Unmindful of his misery so he still Shaped every deed and thought to God's dear will ; Nor heeded he his bed of knotted straw Whose vigils sore the Master only saw ; Nor looked forward to the ashen heap Whereon the dying brethren fell on sleep — (Acquainting them or ere they joined the dead With the poor kindred dust whereto they sped) j Nor fastings long, nor penance he relaxed ; Nor less the body for the body taxed ; Nor changed a whit the posture, or the face That shone with calm while grew his woe apace. Vain, vain the body's strife to turn aside The purpose of the spirit sanctified I 84 THE MONK OF LA TRAPPE. In snatch of wretched sleep his chastened will Restrained the groan, o'ercame the anguish, still ; And if perchance that sleep his lips unsealed Their words of peace his sharpest pangs concealed. But when the oozing blood for him complained, And half-betrayed his woe the raiment stained, The quick-eyed Abbot bade the surgeon speed Whose skillful hand might serve his piteous need. Compassionate the sufferer they bound, While wept the mute attendants standing round As the bared back disclosed the blackening wound. " Thus bind him, fast ! " the surgeon whispered low ; " Not else might he endure the mortal woe ! " While they through tears beheld the fearful sight The poor monk raised a face of saintly light ; " Not of myself," he said, " but God is here To hold me that I neither shrink nor fear." Then even as Death's own shadow in the cell On him, on all, the wonted silence fell ; Only a dripping on the floor of brick As the sharp knife swift pierced to the quick : No shudder felt, no moan repressed betrayed The spirit fainting or the flesh afraid. " O holy father, he must speak or die ! Command these lips to utter forth their cry ! " THE MONK OF LA TRAPPE. 85 Implored the surgeon, with a whitening cheek. " Speak, O my brother, speak ! I bid thee speak ! " With streaming eyes the pitying Abbot said — As it were his own quivering flesh that bled ! The ashen lips almost a smile entranced, And from the eye unearthly rapture glanced, As his uplifted face like Stephen's glowed, And from his tongue an heavenly utterance flowed :— a My Lord ! my Lord ! that Thou should'st raise me up, And suffer me to taste Thy measureless cup Of agony, and in some poor degree Learn how all-measureless Thy Love must be ! O wondrous riches by the poorest gained ! O heights no rapture ever yet attained ! O depths beyond all human thought to reach ! Love passing knowledge as it passeth speech ! That I should see the glory of Thy Face While yet vile clay in this despised place ! O all-transcending Love ! O matchless grace ! Thrice-blest this tongue that may forego its spell Not of these pangs but of That Love to tell ! " Even as he spake back in their arms he fell, And Death's own radiance filled the narrow cell ! PASS LIGHTLY, EARTH. " He that spared not His own Son, but delivered Him up for us all, how shall He not with Him also freely give us all things ? " — Romans viii. 32. ASS lightly, Earth, with all thy joy, Yea, lightly pass with all thy grief; Thy pleasantness and thine annoy, Why should we brood on things so brief! Why waste the longing or the tear That Heaven alone can fill or claim ! All that hereafter will be dear Is gathered in one precious Name : Love that can never know decay ; Joy that will never tire nor wane ; Rest that will grow more sweet for aye Through deep forgetfulness of pain ; All satisfaction purely sought ; All consolation long delayed ; PASS LIGHTLY, EARTH. 8f The bliss unuttered and unthought For which we hungered here and prayed. Jesus ! Thy Name is pledge of all — All this and more than words can tell, And we, whatever may befall, Shall find hereafter // was well. THE NIGHT WATCH. " IMy meditation of Him shall be sweet." — Ps. civ. 34. MEDITATION sweet, that makes The midnight watch an hour of rest, And brings, when fickle sleep forsakes, A holier calm to hearts opprest. Soft speaking as to one so near That, kneeling, we might kiss His feet, The Name above all names most dear Our erst complaining lips repeat. Our griefs that Christ alone can guess, Our doubts that Christ alone can know, Flow out to meet His tenderness — In tearful confidences flow. For He who bore all sorrow, weighed, Nailed to His own, each lesser cross ; He knows the burden on us laid, The secret pain, the hidden loss. THE NIGHT WATCH. 89 Touched with our woes, He lifteth up The humblest follower in His train ; He maketh sweet the bitter cup, And death itself is blessed gain. Thus in the lonely night we learn To trust Him most as joys decrease, And when our need is sorest turn To hear His silence whisper, Peace! THE FEAST-TIME OF THE YEAR. [HIS is the feast-time of the year When hearts grow warm and home more clear \ When Autumn's crimson torch expires To flash again in winter fires ; And they who tracked October's flight Through woods with gorgeous hues bedight, In charmed circle sit and praise The goodly log's triumphant blaze. This is the feast-time of the year When Plenty pours her wine of cheer, And even humble boards may spare To poorer poor a kindly share. While bursting barns and granaries know A richer, fuller overflow, And they who dwell in golden ease Bless without toil, yet toil to please. This is the feast-time of the year : The blessed Advent draweth near. THE FEAST-TIME OF THE YEAR. 9 1 Let rich and poor together break The bread of love for Christ's sweet sake, Against the time when rich and poor Must ope for Him a common door, Who comes a Guest, yet makes a feast, And bids the greatest and the least A LITTLE CHRISTMAS SERMON. HILDREN dear, I heard ye say : " Morrows, haste and haste away ; Bring the merry Christmas Day ! " Blithest Carol, sweetest Chime, Hearts that dance to peal and rhyme, Welcome in the happy time ! " Starry Tree, shine out anew, Glittering as with golden dew, Gay with fruits of every hue ! " This is what ye said, I trow : Little children, hearken now Ere ye pluck the freighted bough ; Ponder what the Carols mean ; What the Chime rung out between, What the laden Evergreen. A LITTLE CHRISTMAS SERMON. 93 €i Glory be to God Most High! " Sang His angels in the sky When the Lord to men drew nigh. " Peace on earth — good will and peace \ Love shall reign, and wrong shall cease ; He is born — the Prince of Peace ! " Just for love of us He came, Took His sweetly tender Name — Jesus ! stooped to our shame. " I will save you," — thus He said ; " I am Life ; your life is dead ; I will give you life instead ! " Little children, closest prest To the loving Saviour's breast. Surely ye must lave Him best I This is love : — to do His will ; Speaking truth ; forsaking ill ; Bearing and forbearing still ; Battling selfishness within (Where He only sees the sin) Till through Him at last ye win ; 94 A LITTLE CHRISTMAS SERMON, Sorrowing over evil wrought — Open deed or secret thought ; Straightway doing as ye ought ; Blessing all for His dear sake, As His blessing ye partake ; Happier, thus, His world to make. This is love ; a service light, Done with all your little might : None shall fail to do it right. Let your little hearts reply To the angels in the sky : 84 Love shall reign eternally ! " God is love forevermore ; Love we Him, and Him adore In the Christ-Child born of yore." Let your lives ring out His praise Like a chime His finger sways : Sweet as carols be your days. Beautiful with holiness, Let your daily deeds confess In whose Name ye seek to bless. A LITTLE CHRISTMAS SERMON. 95 This is what the Carols mean : What the Chime rung clear between ; What the bounteous Evergreen. IMMANUEL. ING, sweet bells of Christendom, Everywhere the tidings tell How the Lord to earth did come ■ Ring and tell ! Swift to seek and save the lost, More than merciful He came ; Glad to pay life's bitter cost Jesus came. Prince of Peace, the Heavenly King, As a mortal babe disguised He appeared whom angels sing — * Earth-disguised. Love Divine in human frame, Of the lowly, lowliest He ; Stript of glory, in His shame Gloried He. IMMANUEL. 97 Empty-handed from His birth, Gifts exceeding price He brought ; Treasures hidden not in earth Jesus brought. To the blind, unclouded sight ; To the dumb, the voice of praise \ And to all in darkness, light — Joy and praise. To the poor, the Gospel's wealth ; To the rich, the spirit poor ; And to all, His saving health — Rich and poor. To the heavy-laden, rest ; To the mourner, words of life \ And to all — the last and best — Endless life. In the perfect path He trod, .Still His footprints mark the way ; Out to men and up to God Show the way. Out to men in love that breaks Bread of charity with all, 7 '98 IMMANUEL. And — thrice-blessed then ! — forsakes Self for all. Up to God in deeds like prayers, In obedience to Him, And in faith — love's altar-stairs Reared to Him. Ring, sweet bells of Christendom, Far and near the tidings tell How the Lord to earth did come — Ring and tell ! Join, good Christians, east and west, In ImmanuePs endless praise, And with deeds of mercy best Show His praise ! Still the Christmas angels sing : " Glory be to God Most High ! " The eternal echoes ring : " God Most High ! " Lift your songs in unison : " Peace on earth, good-will to men ! " Mingle song and life in one Wide "Amen/" MARY MOTHER. ORE than royal Guest He lay Where the gentle kine made way For the Christ-child meek as they. Knelt the Magi round His bed, Bowed low each proudest head ; Mary Mother pondered. Gold and frankincense and mvrrh They the wise and great confer; Jesu mild looks' up to her ! What her gift ? Than nothing less ! O that she might crown and bless Him whom kings shall King confess ! Pierced as with woes to come At His feet her soul lies dumb, Love, of all she hath, the sum ! — Blessed among women, thou Who, exalted most, dost bow Lowliest among the low 1 THE NATIVITY. ENEATH the dark, expectant skies, while crowded Bethlehem slept, Their sleeping flocks in quiet fields the faith- ful shepherds kept, When round about them, suddenly, there shone a glorious light, And in the midst an Angel stood, majestical and bright. What mortal eye could look undazed ! what mortal ear could hear The voice most sweet, most terrible in sweetness, without fear ! While on the wide Judean hills the reverent winds were stayed, Prostrate the humble shepherds fell, for they were sore afraid. " Fear not; behold, I bring you joy!" the Angel spake and smiled ; THE NATIVITY. 101 " To you this day in David's town is born the prom- ised Child ; A Saviour, even Christ the Lord, and this shall be the sign — Ye in a manger lowly laid shall find the Babe Divine." And with the Angel, lo ! a host of shining ones was seen, Chanting, " All glory be to God, as it hath ever been; Glory to God, on earth be peace, and unto men good-will," They sang, in splendor vanishing, and all grew dark and still. Amazed the shepherds heard; and rose, and made with haste their w r ay To where, within the stable walls, the world's Re- deemer lay ; Nor wider space, nor fairer place, had earth to spare for Him Whose Throne from everlasting burned, rayed round with seraphim. While softly raining out of heaven, in silver cadences Flowed down those sweet angelic strains proclaiming joy and peace, 102 THE NATIVITY. Her rapture swelling into tears, the trembling Mother bent Above her Child, her Holy One, in awe and wonder- ment. And if a cloud of radiance filled the consecrated place, That cloud was darkness in her eyes, long-dwelling on His face ; Her tranced vision scarce withdrawn when the glad shepherds came, Beheld the Babe and glorified the One Eternal Name. And was the Word, indeed, made flesh? O Everlast- ing Lord ! O Prince of Peace ! O Mighty God, forever-more adored ! Who, reckoning unreckoned bliss, cast all His glory by, When from the prison-house of sin He heard the cap- tive cry ! O Love, that no created love can ever comprehend, Outreaching life's dark uttermost, bounding the end- less end ; That condescended to the low from Height above all height, THE NATIVITY. 103 And, bosomed in a blameless Babe, brought into darkness light ! Wherever Christmas bells shall chime, and Christmas cheer go round, Be grateful joy — not heedless mirth — in every dwelling found ; While Faith unveils her throbbing breast, and close- lier folds within The Holy Child whose sinlessness hath answered once for sin. The humblest home that He may find, the poorest heart of earth, Not meaner is than Bethlehem's stall, made fair by Jesus' birth ; And light more marvelous shall stream into that house of clay, Abiding and abounding more unto the perfect day. Comfort to answer all desire and soothe the sharpest pain, A rest to weariness, and ease to such as do complain, Bread to the hungry, and to them that thirst a living well, The Saviour with His neediest ones doth most delight to dwell. 104 THE NATIVITY. He honoreth not the place of pride, but seeketh lowly doors, And love, the sweet return of love, is all that He implores ; The love that, waiting on His word, doth evermore increase, And magnify in daily life the angels' song of peace. Wherever Christmas greetings flow, and Christmas cheer goes round, Let charity in gracious deeds and gracious thoughts abound ; And Zion, garlanding her gates, put on her glad array, And celebrate with psalms of joy ImmanueFs natal day. O Christ, Most High! Incarnate God! Meek Babe of Bethlehem! To whom all angels cry aloud, Thy glory shadowing them, Hear, through the praise of heaven, the praise of Thy redeemed earth Whose desert places yet shall sing for joy of Jesus' birth ! THE HOLY CHILD. RE you thinking, dear child, Of Jesus the Lord when He was a Child, And blessed Mary the Mother mild With heart love-troubled and eyes intent So tenderly watched Him as He went, Beyond all innocence innocent, On holy and unguessed errands bent ? Are you dreaming, dear child, Of the heavenly mien of that Wonderful Child ; The look He wore when He spake or smiled ; The healing balm of His touch and tear : The sweet voice, marvel to every ear ; That drew all the children far and near ( Because it was Love's and love is dear ) ? Are you longing, dear child, To be like the Lord when He was a Child ? Remember : the Christ-Boy undefiled, 106 THE HOLY CHILD. So meek and lowly, so reverent, Yet filling the wise with wonderment, And crowned with all favor as He went, Was, first and last, obedient. HYMNS FOR LENT. I. r ROM feasts that perish turned aside A little space, Oh ! be the flesh indeed denied ; Our souls, an-hungered, satisfied With the sweet feast of grace ! Thou Who didst fast so long, so sore, For our poor sake, — All pangs of earth's vast hunger bore, Ere Thou Thy precious Blood did'st pour, Thy blessed Body break — O Holy Jesu ! hear our cry, And give us strength For love of Thee to mortify The love of self till self shall die, And leave us Thine at length ! 108 HYMNS FOR LENT. II. IN THE DESERT. In the lone desert of my own despair, Robed in the sackcloth of unfriended grief, With tears no eyes of earthly love can share, My stricken soul implores of Heaven relief. The scorching sand beneath my naked feet, And penitential ashes on my head, I hear a Voice that calls me, heavenly sweet, And the soft coming of a Stranger's tread. Low kneeling in abasement, I can feel A hand of pity gently seeking mine, A breath of tender mercy o'er me steal From Human lips whose language is Divine, "Arise ! " He saith, and lo ! His word doth raise ; " Be whole ! " He saith, and lo ! His word doth heal ; Prostrate again I fall, but now in praise : " Lord, at Thy feet forever let me kneel." EASTER-EVEN VIOLETS. ]OR Easter Day, O Lilies white, Your shrined splendors keep ! But while the sweet, sad, waning light Of Easter- Even fades, Amid the sacred shades Where Sorrow comes to weep, — Nor weeps in vain Since Hope is born of very Pain ( And Pain its pangs in joy forgets ) — ■ There breathe your balm, sweet Violets 1 Dear twilight-flowers whose lovely hue, More tender than the tenderest blue Yet not as purple sad, appears Most like transformed tears. " A little while ! " ye seem to sigh ; " And yet a little while ! " ye say ;. " The stone shall noiseless roll away r Unseen across the midnight sky HO EASTER-EVEN VIOLETS. Twilight and Day-break run to meet ! Already angels throng the air, And twain descending, kneel Veiled in awe, at head and feet Of that new tomb whose broken seal The wondering Morning shall reveal And, " He is risen ! " declare. Sweet odors — sweeter than the sweet Of violets and lilies blent, The sweet of holy slumber spent — Stealing from vesture folded fair And fragrant with the Lord's own care, Wherein His Blessed Body lay Till break of clay, Shall make most sweet the graves of those Who entering into Paradise, Do sleep in Him Who died and rose — In Whom they, too, shall rise." CAROL. JITH flowers we crown His altar fair, For Christ's own morning breaks, And earth of Easter-tide aware To song and bloom awakes. Chorus. The day of days is the Easter Day ; The Church puts on her white array For Christ hath filled the very tomb With Easter light and Easter bloom. His love o'er loveliest things of earth Symbolic beauty throws \ The Resurrection shadows forth In every flower that blows. Chorus. The day of days. etc. These flowers their mission sweet fulfill And in their sweetness die ; But Easter hopes, unfolding still, Climb flower-like up the sky. Chorus. The day of days, etc 112 CAROL. O Easter Day that yet shall be, Whose splendors shall not fail; Thy deathless bloom the Church shall see Beyond the rended veil ! Chorus. The day of days, is the Easter Day ; The Church puts on her white array ; For Christ hath filled the very tomb With Easter light and Easter bloom ! EASTER DAY. AWN of dawns, the Easter Day Far and wide in splendor breaks ;. Darkest shadows flee away Where it breaks ! Veiled in its vernal light, Christ, the Light of Light, arose ; From the grave's unbroken night He arose. Though beneath the Cross He fell, Though upon the Cross He died, Led He captive Death and Hell When He died. Overcome, He overcame ; Conquered, more than Conqueror lives ; Crowned King with Heaven's acclaim Jesus lives ! 8 114 EASTER DAY. Through the gates of sacrifice He, the Victim, Victor went ; Lo, His triumph lights the skies Since He went! Darker than the night our sin, Silent as the tomb our life, Still His glory enters in — Light and life. " Rise and follow Me," He saith ; "Love as I have loved you. Rise to life that I through death Won for you." Love that counts not sacrifice, Keeping nothing back from Him,- To such love must we arise, Following Him. x\s He laid His garments by With the bondage of the grave, Clothed in Love's own Majesty Left the grave — Self, the earth's most earthy dress, Must we cast aside like Him, EASTER DAY. 115 "And putting on His righteousness Rise with Him. He hath rolled the stone away Through Redemption's might for us ; — Dawn of dawns, the Easter Day Breaks for us ! THE COMMON OFFERING. i]T is not the deed we do, Though the deed be never so fair, But the love that the dear Lord looketh for, Hidden with holy care In the heart of the deed so fair. The love is the priceless thing, The treasure our treasure must hold, Or ever the Lord will take the gift, Or tell the worth of the gold ( By the love that cannot be told ). Behold us, the rich and the poor, Dear Lord, in Thy service drawn near One consecrateth a precious coin, One droppeth only a tear : Look 7 Master ; the love is here ! LET YOUR LIGHT SO SHINE." E treasure hath alone Whose goods the needy share ; Who prays for others as for self, His is the purest prayer ; Most blest the righteous deed whereof God only is aware. Lord Christ ! in mercy bring Our selfish ways to shame, And make our hidden lives shine out With holier thought and aim, That we, and all who see their light, May glorify Thy Name. Free as Thy Love to us Our fellow-love should be ; Spread like an ever-plenteous feast, And spread as if for Thee ; Since Thou of all our deeds hast said : " Ye do them unto Me." IN THE SHADOW OF THE CROSS, OVE in Thy bosom hides, O Thou Adored ! Faith at Thy feet abides, Waiting Thy word. Babes do behold Thy Face, Saints press Thy- Throne ; Show me some humble place Sinners may own : Where sinks the song of praise Hushed into prayer, — Lest in melodious maze They should despair . Where Thy great glory dies Leaving but light, — Lest their bewildered eyes Blindness should smite : IN THE SHADOW OF THE CROSS. H9 Where their confessions low Thou wilt receive ; Where mercy's stream must flowy Since they believe. There to their souls indeed Rest they shall win ; Filled their every need, Cleansed their sin. — Lo, now a Cross I see, Streaming with grace : Lord, it o'ershadows me ! 27iis is the place ! A PRAYER FOR PATIENCE. jORD, on these souls disquieted, IS^Stl These hearts cast down in sore distress, These lives whence all but pain seems fled, Look with Thine utter tenderness ! Look on the love that fain would bide Clothed in patience at Thy feet, And wait on Thee, albeit denied, And find the very waiting sweet ! We know Thy healing, Lord, is sure, Though sorrow wrings our cry ; How long I That they are happy who endure, Or, in Thy spirit, suffer wrong. O, give us patience, even like Thine ( That waiteth our submission still ) ; And patient faith that shall divine Love — only love — in all Thy will ! A PRAYER FOR PATIENCE. 121 Love — only love — that soon or late Bestoweth life no woes betide, When faith itself shall cease to wait. And patient souls be glorified. A PSALM OF WEARINESS. VERBORNE by journeyings far Where no resting-places are, Lured by visions of repose That in fading mock my woes, Saviour ! may Thy presence be Unto me As the shadow cool and sweet Of a rock in desert heat. Shelter of the shelterless, Cover Thou my weariness ; With Thy peace, a tent most fair, Screen me from this earthly glare, And Thy consolations shed On my head, Sweeter than the balm of sleep When the eyes forget to weep. A MORNING HYMN. SWEET untroubled morning, bring Untroubled peace upon thy wing, And banish with the banished night The fears that cloud thy clearest light. Not more serene, if not more drear, Will be the morrow for our fear; While Doubt, sad spendthrift ! throws away The golden coin of hope to-day. O for the faith that goes to meet The future with unshrinking feet, Remembering that the sorest rod Blooms with the patient love of God ! Dear Lord, Whose mercy veileth all That may our coming days befall, Still hide from us the things to be, But rest our troubled hearts in Thee ! "IT IS I." T is so hard ! " I said, And sat within and told my troubles o'er ; A hand fell softly on my bowed head, Yet no one passed my door. "A fancy ! " then I said ; But O ! to feel that touch forevermore ! Methinks, indeed, I could be comforted ! " — And sorrowed as before. " No other heart can know !" Brake out my grief again with bitter cry ; il And God is far — so far my faith lets go Her hold on Heaven to die ! " Then some one stooped low, His heart full-throbbing, as with tears, close by : " Lord ! is it Thou so moved by my woe ? " He answered : " It is I." A GROUP BY TWILIGHT. ROSY glow Flushes the drifted snow ; The snow that all day long The wind has overs wept. Filling with sparkle-gusts the frosty air. Within shade after shade has crept Across the room, and silence follows song — Silence that shrines an inarticulate prayer. On the wide hearth the heaped and glowing coals. Unstirred, unfed, Quiver and redden in their ashy bed. Toy-strewn the floor ; The child amid his playthings dropt asleep Since he can play no more. The little hand that rolls The polished marble holds it unawares Shut in the tender palm ■ So one day he will keep More conscious hold on cares In sleep less calm, 126 A GROUP BY TWILIGHT. Romance, sweet weaver, weaves her fancies bright, Her flushed face radiant in the sunset light ; Whispers her dreams confidingly, and hears Responses lost to wiser ears. In the soft twilight Love with warm-claspt hands Speechlessly stands ; Or, with a look more full than the fullest utterance, turns To the large star that burns Above the fading splendors of the west, — Shining like love — trembling with love's unrest. Age, busy with old memories — pictures they Of just such twilights ! — puts away The present for those hoarded treasures ; Untainted by the touch of time, By change of season or of clime Those pure, remembered pleasures : Yet now and then slow tears — not Sorrow's — Steal down the deep, deep furrows ! In farthest niche, in deepest shade, One, unbetrayed By the first star-mist of the skies, Looks up in prayer unheard : Too frail the strongest word A GROUP BY TWILIGHT. 1 27 That prayer to hold ! O lifted eyes Raining repentant rain ; O hands that drop earth-hopes like gold Whose touch has blistered ; O dumb heart of flesh Tortured by sinful throes, Yet yearning toward the Christ Whose wounds For each and all thy woes Do bleed afresh ; He hears — He hears ! Thy crying (not in vain, Though human ear may list and catch it never, Nor Seraphim, nor Cherubim ! ) Thy crying has gone up to Him — The loudest, weakest, saddest, sweetest of all sounds ! — To Him Who died in love, and lives and loves forever THE UNSPOKEN PRAYER. PONDERED how to shape my prayer I chose the words with pious care, gj Lest with my lips I should betray The wish my heart would hide away. The thing I craved I d'ared not ask ; Yet, like a face behind a mask, That wish looked up through every word, And it was answered, though unheard I A VIGIL. ARK shore, and desolate sky Unquickened by a star ; Sad sea where wandering sails are lost In night afar ! No human presence sweet, Nor other sound beside, Save that to silence near akin — The ebbing tide. Only a lonely wreck High on the lonely beach, Whose hopelessness defies at last The breaker's reach. O Earth that keeps no watch, O Heaven that lights no star, He is Who cares for every sail. Each broken spar ! 9 WHEN I AWAKE. jjHEN I awake shall I Thine image bear, O Thou Adored ? The image lost, in some pure Otherwhere O shall it be restored ? Already stealeth o'er my trembling soul Some semblance sweet — The wavering outline of the perfect whole Thy Touch shall yet complete? '.When I awake shall I indeed cast by All earthly taint, And walk with Thee in white, Thy white, on high, As seraph walks and saint ? Through endless, blessed ages shall I know Thy Will alone — Its all-pervading, perfect motions grow More than mine own mine own ? The glories that no vision can forestall With crystal gleam ; WHEN I A WAKE. 1 3 l The peace, the rapture and the holy thrall Of Love that reigns supreme ; The death of all that meaneth self and time ; The gain of Thee, My Lord — my God ! the victory sublime When only Thou shalt be ; — Thou all in all — all in Thy glory lost And all, all found Dear beyond price ; no aspiration crossed ; Thou, only Thou our bound ; — Shall I behold, receive, possess, attain All this and more To tell whereof all tongues would strive in vain, In vain all language pour ? O unconceived ! Thine own Divine surprise Prepared of old; Hid ev'n from faith-unsealed, enkindled eyes Till Thou shalt say : Behold ! Life — Very Life ! God-Gift wherein are blent All gifts beside ! When I awake — O heaven of Heaven's content ! — I shall be satisfied ! Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. 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