^.iJ^jWj*!^ 
 
 P^<S^<<!f=^»i^(5^^ 
 
 ■aHHi 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, 
 
 Chap .,X^ Copyright No. 
 
 Shelf__'W-4.^ 
 
 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 
 
V 
 
■FOR- 
 
 m HC/^ii 
 
 Elizabeth M. Webster 
 
 <L^<0^ 
 
 franklin ohio 
 The Editor Publishing Co 
 
 1895 
 
 W' ^vl*". 
 

 Copyrigl^t 1893 
 Bv The Editor Publishing Co 
 
 1 
 
Jlo tbe Btnicte^ an& Sorrowing 
 
 / affectionately dedicate this volume, hoping these leaflets, gathered 
 year by year, may wing their way to the sick room and sad - 
 hearts, as rays of sunshine, cheering the gloom, mak- 
 ing lighter the shadows and stronger the faith 
 and brighter the hope of reaching the 
 Heavenly City, ferusalem. 
 
 " Our sweet and holj^ union 
 
 Knows neither time nor place ; 
 The love which God. hath planted 
 
 Is lasting as His grace. 
 We tread one path to glory. 
 
 Are guided by one hand, 
 And led in faith and patience 
 
 Into our Father's land." 
 
PREFACE 
 
 J^HE title of this book was suggested by an incident 
 ^-^ which I will relate. The sun had hid his face from 
 Mother Earth, behind dark clouds and fogs, mist and rain, 
 in the May day of Spring. All nature with man and birds 
 seemed to partake of the gloomy atmosphere ; all desired 
 and longed for the sunshine, to brighten again the hill-tops, 
 trees and flowers, and chase away the shadows that had 
 gathered on hearts of both youth and age. 
 
 Ten days had passed, and it was evening ; the western 
 sky had brightened ; the dark clouds parted and the golden 
 beams shone forth. Even into the window of my " shut-in 
 room" they came, and fell upon a vase of roses, bringing 
 out their rainbow colors brighter and more beautiful, filling 
 my heart with a thrill of delight. 
 
 I exclaimed, "Oh, the lovely sunshine ! How glad- 
 dening its beams." A soft voice seemed to whisper, " Here 
 is the name jon have desired ; " and thus the name " Sun- 
 beams for Sad Hearts" was chosen. Friends, I would that 
 thus these verses of song may cheer many sad hearts with 
 rays of comfort, as did these sunbeams mine, after those 
 lonely, cloudy days. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Poems oi Affliction, . 
 
 Poems of Faith, 20 
 
 Poems of Hope, 29 
 
 Poems of Love, 35 
 
 Poems of Shadow and Light, 44 
 
 To Friends in Sorrow, 52 
 
 Poems of Sorrow, 54 
 
 Poems of " At the Gate," 62 
 
 Poems of Heaven, .67 
 
 Poems of the ITnknown Land, . . . . . 73 
 
 Poems of Our Dead, 81 
 
 Poems of Youth, 90 
 
 Poems of Sowing, 95 
 
 Poems of Reaping, 100 
 
 Poems of Sunbeams, 105 
 
 The Old Friends, . . . . . . . 109 
 
 Poems of Old Friends, 112 
 
 Poems of Long Ago, 117 
 
 Poems of Memories, 122 
 
 Poems of Friends Without Christ, .... 126 
 
 Poems of Reunion, 129 
 
 Poems of ''Shut-in" Band, 186 
 
Contents (Continued). 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Poems of Courage, 143 
 
 Poems of Ti'ust, 146 
 
 Poems of Peace, ...:.... 148 
 
 Poems of Rest, -...•,.. 150 
 
 Poems of Nature, 152 
 
 Poems of Occasion, 163 
 
 Poems of Immortality, 172 
 
 Poems of Praises, 17g 
 
 Poems of Hymn, 183 
 
 Poems of Prayer, 185 
 
 Poems of Benediction, 188 
 
tunLeamc fop 2§^sl '^^at't^ 
 
 Written and Selected 
 
 ELIZABETH M. WEBSTER 
 
 " Full many a shining minstrel 
 
 Among the sons of light, 
 Will say of his sweetest music — 
 
 ' I learned it in the night.' 
 And many a rolling anthem 
 
 Around the Father's throne 
 Has had its first rehearsal 
 
 In the shade of a darkened room. 
 
 ' The heart must be rent by the rude blast of anguish, 
 
 Its portals unloosed by adversity's hand, 
 Kre the jewels that now in obscurity languish. 
 
 May shine like the dew-drops that gild the lone strand. 
 
SUNBEAMS. 
 
 BY A. SQUIRE. 
 
 Sunbeams ! sunbeams ! everywhere ! 
 
 lyightly darting through the air. 
 
 Through the window, on the floor, 
 
 Pouring in the open door ; 
 
 On each leaf, and branch, and tree. 
 
 On the hills, and on the lea; 
 
 On the head of some young child. 
 
 On the mother, pale and mild ; 
 
 Now beside the crystal brook, 
 Seeking for some shaded nook ; 
 On the fields of waving corn, 
 Through the clouds of early morn ; 
 On the ocean's crested wave, 
 Where the birds their soft w^ings lave. 
 Strongest in the noonday glare, 
 vSunbeams, sunbeams every w^here. 
 
 On the glacier's glistening snow. 
 Where the Alpine flow'rets blow; 
 On the mountain's rocky hight, 
 On the river, flashing bright ; 
 Peeping through the summer shower, 
 I,ifting up the drooping flower ; 
 In the sunset's hues most rare, 
 Sunbeams, sunbeams everywhere. 
 
 Ivike all blessings, they are fair. 
 Showing a Creator's care 
 O'er all mortals here below. 
 Rich or poor, the high or low, 
 lyike kind words, they come and go, 
 Giving joy, and healing woe; 
 lyike the smiles that lighten care. 
 Are the sunbeams everj'where. 
 
POEMS OF AFFLICTION. 
 
 HIDDEN IN LIGHT. 
 
 HEN first the sun dispels the cloudy nighty 
 The glad hills catch the radiance from 
 afar, 
 
 And smile for joy. We say, ' how fair thou are, 
 Tree, rock, and heather-bloom, so clear and bright/ 
 But when the sun draws near in westering might, 
 Enfolding all in one transcendent blaze 
 Of sunset glow, we trace them not, but gaze 
 And wonder at the glorious, holy light. 
 Come nearer. Sun of Righteousness ! that we. 
 Whose swift, short hours of day so swiftl}^ run. 
 So overflowed with love and light may be ; 
 So lost in glory of the nearing Sun 
 That not our light but thine the world may see, 
 New praise to thee through our poor lives be won. 
 
10 POEMS OF AFFLICTION. 
 
 THE HEART KNOWETH ITS OWN 
 BITTERNESS. 
 
 !ELL not thy secret grief, 
 
 It may be that thy brother's heart can feel, 
 Sorrow from suffering that thy words reveal, 
 And give thy heart relief; • 
 
 But soon his ear will weary of a tale 
 Too oft repeated — then of no avail 
 The lengthened story of thy secret ill. 
 Bear on in silence — suffer and be still. 
 
 Yes, w^e must bear alone ; 
 
 Hard lesson this for the young heart to learn, 
 Seeking for sympath}^ in every turn. 
 
 In ever}^ friendly tone. 
 
 But when the task is learned, although with 
 
 tears, 
 The heart gives up the hope of early 3^ears, 
 Though anguish may its very life chords wring 
 Still gains its strength by its own suffering. 
 
 It is the common lot — 
 
 None knows the hidden soul, save Him whose 
 
 eye 
 Looks through its dark recess — forever nigh 
 
 Though we behold Him not. 
 
 And it was by His own. His holy will! 
 That wants too deep for human love to fill. 
 Should to our thirsting spirit here be given, 
 That w^e the living stream might seek in heaven. 
 
POEMS OF AFFLICTION. 11 
 
 LEARN TO SUFFER AND BE 
 STRONG. 
 
 LONG for pastures fresh and fair, 
 I long for days made free from care ; 
 By crystal streams I fain would rest, 
 Where purer thoughts might fill the breast ; 
 But saith the poet in his song, 
 " Child, learn to suffer and be strong." 
 
 Tell me, can strength through suffering come, 
 Shall I through absence prize my home? 
 From feverish nights of long unrest 
 Shall the day-dawn find me refreshed ? 
 O poet, what doth mean your song, 
 " Learn to suffer and be strong ?" 
 
 Why every way mark of my life 
 Shows signs of suffering and of strife ; 
 And memory bringeth oft to me 
 The wreck of hopes that were to be ; 
 I've learned life's lesson all along, 
 I've suffered yet I am not strong. 
 
 E'en life's bright days have been o'ercast 
 With fears of ill or griefs just past ; 
 And when my dear ones I have pressed 
 With rapture closely to my breast 
 Death claimed and took them — am I wrong 
 I've suffered but I am not strong. 
 
12 POEMS OF AFFLICTION. 
 
 And so might keep counting o'er 
 Life's shipwrecks e'en from shore to shore; 
 But Faith and Hope, with kindly hand 
 Point the faint heart to that fair land, 
 Where we one day may join the song, 
 ''Through suffering 1 have been made strong.'^ 
 
 WE COME NOT WITH A COSTLY STORE. 
 
 E come not with a costly store, 
 Lord, like them of old ; 
 The masters of the starry lore, 
 From Ophir's shore of gold ; 
 No weepings of the incense tree 
 
 Are with the gifts we bring; 
 No odorous myrrh of Araby 
 Blends with our offering. 
 
 But faith and love may bring their rest, 
 
 A spirit keenly tried 
 By fierce affliction's fiery test 
 
 And seven times purified : 
 The fragrant graces of the mind, 
 
 The virtues that delight 
 To give their perfume out, will find 
 
 Acceptance in th}^ sight. 
 
POEMS OF AFFLICTION. 13 
 
 AFFLICTION. 
 
 FATHER ! forgive the heart that clings 
 Thus trembling, to the things of time, 
 ^nd bid the soul on angel wings 
 Ascend into a purer clime. 
 
 There shall no doubts disturb its trust 
 
 No sorrows dim celestial love : 
 But these afflictions of the dust 
 
 Like shadows of the night remove. 
 
 That glorious life will well repa}^ 
 'This life of care and toil and woe ; 
 
 O Father joyful on my way 
 To drink thy bitter cup I go. 
 
 As the harp strings only render 
 
 All their treasures of sweet sound — 
 
 All their music glad and tender — 
 Firmly struck and tightly bound. 
 
 So the hearts of Christian owe 
 Each its deepest, sweetest strain, 
 
 To the pressure firm of woe, 
 And the tension tight of pain. 
 
 Species crushed their pungence yield 
 Hidden scents their sweet respire; 
 
 Would you have its strength revealed 
 Cast the incense in the fire. 
 
14 POEMS OF AFFLICTION. 
 
 Thus the crushed and broken frame 
 Oft does sweetest graces yield, 
 
 And through suffering toil and shame 
 Heavenly incense is distilled. 
 
 FOR PATIENCE. 
 
 WEET Patience come! 
 ^1 With long distress my spirit faints, 
 And my heart breaks with its complaints; 
 
 And eager pain to find relief 
 
 Solicits even change of grief; 
 And unbelief disturbs my trust, 
 And shakes my hopes as with a gust. 
 Spring blossoms fluttering from the stalk, 
 And withering lie upon the walk, 
 
 Sweet Patience come. 
 
 Sweet Patience come ! 
 Not from a low and earthly source, 
 Waiting till things shall have their course; 
 
 Not as accepting present pain 
 
 In hope of some hereafter gain ; 
 Not in a dull and sullen calm ; 
 ButTas a breath of heavenly balm, 
 Bidding my weary heart submit 
 To bear whatever God sees fit, 
 
 Sweet Patience come! 
 
POEMS OF AFFIJCTIOX. 15 
 
 BE STILL. 
 
 Bringing into captivity every thouglit to the 
 obedience of ('hrist. 2 Cor. 10 : .'>. 
 
 HEARD a voice which said to me, '' Be stiU.'^ 
 With heart subdued I answered, " Yea, I wilL" 
 With lingering step I gathered day by da}^ 
 My hopes and plans to lay them all away 
 As work forbidden, for my God said, " Nay, 
 Thou must learn life's great lesson — to obey." 
 And with hushed heart I answered Him, " I will. 
 See, Father, I am ready to be still," 
 
 So I lay me down, resolving not to think 
 How bitter was the cup that I must drink. 
 My dear Physician did prescribe me tears. 
 Keen pain and grief and weary, idle years. 
 With fluctuating spirits and strange fears, 
 Bewildering doubt what is and what appears. 
 Anguish of thought was mingled in that drink 
 Whereof in vain I said, " I will not think." 
 
 My Father m}^ Physician is, and He, 
 
 So wise and strong and tender — motherly, 
 
 Doth never leave me. Constant, day and night, 
 
 He watches, waits upon me, and His might 
 
 Sustains my fainting heart; His love makes 
 
 strong 
 My dismal darkness. When my thoughts affright, 
 His thoughts encourage me and set me right — 
 So safe and sure, so sweet and motherly, 
 So faithful to his little child is He. 
 
16 POEMS OF AFFLICTION. 
 
 The gentle voice yet saith to me, " Be still." 
 And ever doth my heart reply, " I will." 
 Now oftentimes I smile, although in pain, 
 To think how God's will doth my will sustain. 
 Obedience I never could attain 
 If quite alone my weakness must remain ; 
 But my heart's answer echoes his, " I will ; " 
 And so I know I can and shall be still. 
 
 Adelaide Robbins. 
 
 L> 
 
 THE SUFFERER'S COUCH. 
 
 live, and not to die ! 
 Only to wait and wait ; 
 To watch the passing of other feet 
 
 Within the heavenly gate. 
 To see the kindling light 
 
 On many a long loved face. 
 As one by one the Master calls 
 
 Up to the higher place. 
 
 To feel the loosened clasp ; 
 
 To catch the parting smile — 
 To hear the whisper from dying lips, 
 
 " Only a little while ! " 
 Only — and 3'^et we weep, 
 
 God hides them from our love. 
 It sometimes seems too hard to rejoice 
 
 That they are there — above. 
 
POEMS OP AFFLICTION. 17 
 
 To live, and not to die ! 
 
 To suffer, not to reign, 
 Out in the dreary dark with the night, 
 
 To wrestle hard with pain, 
 They with the crown of peace 
 
 Fair on each calmed brow, 
 We with the sharpness of thorn and cross, 
 
 'To fight on still below. 
 
 Silence ! restless heart. 
 
 In quietness be strong ! 
 Wellknoweth the Lord who watcheth thee, 
 
 The pain of suffering long. 
 He knoweth — yet His love 
 
 Is stronger than thy tears ; 
 Shall he let thee miss thy full reward, 
 
 For all thy coward fears ? 
 
 Many a boat would sail 
 
 Into the shining west; 
 Into the haven where she would be — 
 
 The land of quiet rest. 
 But o'er the darkening sea, 
 
 Through mist, and cold, and fear, 
 Cometh sweet a voice that biddeth peace : 
 
 " Patience — thy Lord is here." 
 
18 POEMS OF AFFLICTION. 
 
 A PRAYER FOR REST IN SICKNESS. 
 
 <^^ORD, a whole long clay of pain 
 >^ Now at last is o'er! 
 Ah, how much we can sustain, 
 
 I have felt once more; 
 Felt how frail are all our powers, 
 
 And how weak our trust ; 
 If Thou help not, these dark hours 
 Crush us to the dust. 
 
 Could I face the coming night 
 
 If Thou wert not near? 
 Nay, without Thy love and might 
 
 I must sink with fear : 
 Round me falls the evening gloom, 
 
 Lights and sounds all cease, 
 But within this narrow room 
 
 Night will bring no peace. 
 
 Other weary eyes may close. 
 
 All things seek their sleep ; 
 Hither comes no soft repose, 
 
 I must wake and weep. 
 Come then, Jesus, o'er me bend. 
 
 Give me strength to cope 
 With my pains, and gently send 
 
 Thoughts of peace and hope. 
 
POEMS OF AFFLICTION. 19 
 
 Draw my weary heart awaj- 
 
 From this gloom and strife, 
 And these fever pains allay 
 
 With the dew of life ; 
 Thou canst calm the troubled mind ; 
 
 Thou its dread can still ; 
 Teach me to be all resigned 
 
 To my Fathers will. 
 
 Then if I must wake and weep 
 
 All the long night: through, 
 Thou the watch with me wilt keep, 
 
 Friend and Guardian true ; 
 In the darkness Thou wilt speak 
 
 Lovingly to me, 
 Though my heart may vainly seek 
 
 Words to breath to Thee. 
 
 Whereso'er my couch is made, 
 
 In Thy hands I lie; 
 And to Thee alone for aid 
 
 Turns my restless eye : 
 Let my prayer grow weary never, 
 
 Strengthen Thou th' oppress'd 
 In Thy shadow, Lord, forever 
 
 Let me gently rest. 
 
POEMS OF FAITH. 
 
 COMFORT 
 
 PEAK low to me, my Saviour, low and sweet, 
 ^j^ From out the hallelujahs, sweet and low, 
 Lest I should fear and fall, and miss Thee so, 
 Who art not missed by any that entreat. 
 Speak to me as to Marj^ at Thy feet. 
 And if no precious gums my hands bestow. 
 Let my tears drop like amber, while I go 
 In search of Thy divinest voice, complete 
 In humanest affection ; thus, in sooth, 
 To lose the sense of losing ! As a child. 
 Whose song-bird seeks the woods forevermore, 
 Is sung to, in its stead, by mother's mouth. 
 Till sinking on her breast, love reconciled. 
 He sleeps the faster that he wept before. 
 
 Elizabeth Barrett Browning. 
 
POEMS OF FAITH. 21 
 
 BLESSED ARE THEY THAT MOURN.* 
 
 iH, deem not they are blessed alone, 
 0^ Whose lives a peaceful tenor keep; 
 The Power who pities man has shown 
 A blessing for the eyes that weep. 
 
 The light of smiles shall fill again 
 The lids that overflow with tears ; 
 
 And weary hours of woe and pain 
 Are promises of happier years. 
 
 There is a day of sunny rest 
 
 For every dark and troubled night ; 
 
 And grief may bide an evening guest, 
 But joy shall come with earl}^ light. 
 
 And thou, who o'er thy friends low bier. 
 
 Sheddest the bitter drops like rain, 
 Hope that a brighter, happier sphere, 
 
 Will give him to thy arms again. 
 
 Nor let the good man's trust depart, 
 Though life its common gifts deny — 
 
 Though with a pierced and bleeding heart 
 And spurned of men, he goes to die. 
 
 For God hath marked each sorrowing day, 
 And numbered ever}^ secret tear, 
 
 And heaven's long age of bliss shall pay 
 For all his children sufler here. 
 
 William Cullen Bryant. 
 
 -By the kind permission of D. Appleton & Co. 
 
22 POEMS OF FAITH. 
 
 THE WALK OF' FAITH. 
 
 >^IGHT hath arisen, we walk in its brightness ; 
 
 Joy hath descended, its fuhiess has come. 
 Peace hath been spoken, we hear it, we take it; 
 Angels. are singing, and shall we be dumb? 
 
 Calm 'mid the tempest around us that rages, 
 'Mid the lone weariness ever at rest; 
 
 Silent amid the rude uproar of voices, 
 Sometimes disquieted, never oppressed. 
 
 Happy in Him who hath loved us and bought us, 
 Kich in the life which he gives to his own. 
 
 Filled with the peace passing all understanding. 
 Never less lonely than just when alone. 
 
 Bright 'mid the thickest of earth's rolling shadows. 
 Light of the glory still playing around ; 
 
 Sunshine at midnight, fair noon in the twilight. 
 When the damp mist-glow lies dull on the 
 ground. 
 
 Safe in His strength, in His love ever happy. 
 What are the tremblings and tossings of time ? 
 
 Firm in His grasp, to His arm ever clinging, 
 Upward, still upward, we buoyantly climb. 
 
 High on the rock, in our fortress sure sheltered, 
 Wave, wind, and foeman assail us in vain. 
 
 Buckler and shield is he, what can alarm us ; 
 What though the fiery darts shower like the rain. 
 
POEMS OF FAITH. 23 
 
 Lead on, our Captain, we follow, we follow, 
 Life is no slumber, our battle no dream ; 
 
 Lift up Thy banner, we rally, we rally. 
 
 Wave high Thy sword, we press on in its 
 gleam. 
 
 Jesus, to Thee we look. Saviour, Almighty, 
 Jesus, on Thee we rest, happy and free; 
 
 Jesus, on Thee we feed, bread of the hungry; 
 Jesus our all, lo we lean upon Thee ! 
 
 What are the shadows around us still floating. 
 Sunshine is glowing all brightly above. 
 
 Heed not the height of the cliffs we are climbing, 
 From them- we gaze on the land that we 
 love. 
 
 FAITH. 
 
 I thank Thee, Lord, that Thou hast kept 
 
 The best in store ; 
 We have enough yet not too much 
 
 To long for more; 
 A yearning for a deeper peace 
 
 Not known before. 
 
 I thank Thee, Lord, that here our souls, 
 
 Though amply blest; 
 Can never find, although they seek, 
 
 A perfect rest — 
 Nor ever shall, until they lean 
 
 On Jesus' breast. 
 
24 POEMS OF FAITH. 
 
 LOSS. 
 
 ^^ND after He has come to hide 
 Our lambs upon the other side 
 
 We know our Shepherd and our Guide. 
 
 And thus, by ways not understood 
 Out of each dark vicissitude 
 God brings us compensating good. 
 
 For faith is perfected by fears 
 
 And souls renew their youth with years, 
 
 And love looks into heaven through tears. 
 
 HOLD ON. 
 
 OLD on m}^ heart in thy believing, 
 The steadfast only wears the crown ; 
 He who when stormy waves are heaving. 
 
 Parts with his anchor shall go down. 
 But he who Jesus holds, through all 
 Shall stand though earth and heavens shall fall. 
 
POEMS OF FAITH. 25 
 
 Hold in thy murmurs heaven arraigning ; 
 
 The patient see God's loving face ; 
 Who bear their burdens uncomplaining, 
 
 'Tis they who win the Father's grace ; 
 He wounds himself who leaves the rod 
 
 And sets himself to fight with God. 
 
 Hold out, there comes an end to sorrow ; 
 
 Hope from the dust shall conquering rise; 
 The storm proclaims a sunnier morrow; 
 
 The cross points on to Paradise ; 
 The Father reigneth ; cease all doubt, 
 
 Hold on my heart, hold on, hold out. 
 
 A. C. SCAMMELL. 
 
 HE KNOWETH ALL. 
 
 c^,r(^HE twilight falls, the night is near; 
 
 I fold my work away, 
 And kneel to One who bends to hear 
 The story of the day. 
 
 The old, old story ; yet I kneel 
 
 To tell it at Thy call ; 
 And cares grow lighter as I feel 
 
 That Jesus knows them all. 
 
26 POEMS OF FAITH. 
 
 Yes^all! the morning and the night, 
 
 The joy, the grief, the loss. 
 The roughened path, the sunbeam bright. 
 
 The hourly thorn and cross. 
 
 Thou k newest all. I lean my head ; 
 
 My weary eyelids close ; 
 Content and glad awhile to tread 
 
 This path since Jesus knows. 
 
 So here I lay me down to rest, 
 
 As mighty shadows fall. 
 And lean confiding on His breast. 
 
 Who knows and pities all. 
 
 WAITING FOR CHRIST. 
 
 E wait for Thee, all glorious one ! 
 We look for Thine appearing ; 
 We bear Thy name, and on Thy throne 
 We see Thy presence cheering. 
 Faith even now 
 ■ Uplifts its brow, 
 And sees the Lord descending, 
 And with him bliss unending. 
 
POEMS OF FAITH 27 
 
 We wait for Thee through days forlorn 
 
 In patient self-denial: 
 We know that Thou our guilt hast borne 
 Upon Thy cross of trial, 
 And well ma}'' we 
 Submit with Thee 
 To bear the cross and love it, 
 Until Thy hand remove it. 
 
 We wait for Thee; already Thou 
 
 Hast all our hearts' submission ; 
 And though the spirit sees Thee now 
 We long for open vision ; 
 When ours shall be 
 Sweet rest with Thee, 
 And pure unfading pleasure, 
 And life in endless measure. 
 
 We wait for Thee with certain hope 
 
 The time will soon be over; 
 With childish longing we look up 
 Thy glory to discover. 
 bliss to share 
 Thy triumph there. 
 When home with joy and singing 
 The Lord His saints is bringing. 
 
28 POEMS OF FAITH. 
 
 LEAN HARD. 
 
 |HILD of My love, "lean hard," 
 
 And let Me feel the presence of thy care ; 
 I know thy burden child, I shaped it, 
 Poised it in Mine own hand, made no proportion 
 In its weight to thine unaided strength; 
 For even as I laid it on I said, 
 "I shall be near and while she leans on Me^ 
 This burden shall be Mine not hers — 
 So shall I keep My child within the circling arms 
 Of Mine own love." Here lay it down nor fear 
 To impose it on a shoulder which upholds 
 The government of worlds — yet closer come, 
 Thou art not near enough, I would embrace thy 
 
 care 
 So I might feel My child reposing on My heart — 
 
 Thou lo vest ilfef I know it. Doubt not thine, 
 
 But loving Me — lean hard. 
 
POEMS OF HOPE. 
 
 WAIT. 
 
 AIT ! for the day is breaking, 
 )v Though the dull night be long ; 
 Wait ! God is not forsaking 
 
 Thy heart. Be strong — be strong ! 
 
 Wait! and the clouds of sorrow 
 Shall melt in gentle showers, 
 
 And hues from heaven shall borrow, 
 As they fall amidst the flowers. 
 
 Wait ! ' tis the key to pleasure 
 
 And to the plan of God ; 
 Oh ! tarry thou His leisure — 
 
 Thy soul shall bear no load. 
 
 Wait! for the time is hastening 
 When life shall be made clear, 
 
 And all who know heart wasting 
 Shall feel that God is dear. 
 
 Chauncey Hare Townshend. 
 
30 POEMS OF HOPE. 
 
 HOPE. 
 
 ;HINE eyes are dim ; 
 
 A mist has gathered there. 
 Around their rim 
 Float many clouds of care, 
 And there is sorrow every — everywhere. 
 
 But there is God 
 
 Every — everywhere ; 
 
 Beneath His rod, 
 
 Kneel thou, adown in prayer. 
 
 For grief is God's own kiss, 
 
 Upon a soul. 
 
 Look up ! the sun of bliss 
 
 Will shine where storm clouds roll. 
 
 Yes, weeper weep ! 
 'Twill not be evermore ; 
 I know the darkest deep 
 Hath e'en the brightest shore. 
 
 So tired ! so tired ! 
 A cry of half despair; 
 Look! at your side — 
 And see who standeth there ! 
 
 Your Father ! hush ! 
 
 A heart beats in His breast ; 
 
 Now rise and rush 
 
 Into his arms — and rest. 
 
POEMS OF HOPE. 31 
 
 PEACEABLE FRUIT. 
 
 HAT shall thine "afterward " be, Lord, 
 For this dark and suffering night ? 
 Father, what shall thine " afterward " be? 
 Hast thou a morning of joy for me, 
 And a new and joyous light? 
 
 What shall thine " afterward " be, O Lord, 
 
 For the moan that I cannot stay ? 
 Shall it issue in some new song of praise. 
 Sweeter than sorrowless heart could raise, 
 
 When the night hath passed away ? 
 
 What shall thine " afterward " be, Lord, 
 
 For this helplessness of pain ? 
 A clearer view of my home above, 
 Of my father's strength and my father's love — 
 
 Shall this be my lasting gain ? 
 
 What shall thine "afterward" be, Lord, 
 
 How long must thy child endure ? 
 Thou knowest ! 'tis well that I know it not 
 -Thine " afterward " cometh — I cannot tell what, 
 
 But I know that thy word is sure. 
 
 What shall thine "afterward" be, Lord? 
 
 I wonder, and wait to see 
 (While to thy chastening hand I bowO 
 What " peaceable fruit " may be ripening now — 
 
 Ripening fast for me. 
 
32 POEMS OF HOPE. 
 
 Dear ones ! shall it be mine to watch you come 
 Up from the shadows and the valley mist, 
 To tread the jacinth and the amethyst, 
 To rest and sing upon the stormless height, 
 In the deep calm of love and everlasting light? 
 
 THROUGH PAIN TO TRIUMPH. 
 
 [E quiet, my soul! 
 
 My Master's hand is on me now, 
 I must obey His will. 
 His hand is very strong : His word He must fulfill. 
 What can His subject do but to lie dumb and 
 still. 
 
 Be quiet, then, my soul! 
 
 Be hopeful, my soul ! 
 That if my life be blighted. 
 
 Life is short at best ; 
 And then my worn-out frame 
 
 Shall taste the grave's sweet rest, 
 While my freed spirit soars to dwell among the 
 blest. 
 
 Be hopeful, my soul ! 
 
POEMS OF HOPE. 33 
 
 Be joyful, O my soul ! 
 It is my Father's hand that keeps me down so low, 
 
 My Father's weeping while he smiles 
 Because he loves me so. 
 
 I can do more than hear while I 
 His love do know. 
 
 Be joyful, my soul ! 
 
 Exultant be, my soul ! 
 It is my Saviour that I see ; 
 He takes me to His heart; 
 He binds me to himself by every wound and 
 smart ; 
 From Him and from His sufferings, 
 Oh, let me never part. 
 
 Exultant, be my soul ! 
 
 HOPE AND I. 
 
 To 
 
 OPE stood one morning by the way, 
 
 And stretched her fair white hand to me. 
 And softly whispered " For this day 
 I'll company with thee." 
 »• 
 " Ah, no dear Hope," I sighing said, 
 
 " Oft have you joined me in the morn, 
 But when the evening came you fled 
 And left me all forlorn." 
 
34 
 
 POEMS OF HOPE. 
 
 'Tis better far, to walk alone 
 
 Than have your compan}^ awhile, 
 
 And then to lose it and go on 
 For weary mile on mile. 
 
 She turned, rebuked. I went my way, 
 But sad the sunshine seemed, and chill; 
 
 I missed her, missed her all the day 
 And Oh ! I miss her still. 
 
POEMS OF LOVE. 
 
 DIVINE LOVE. 
 
 LOVE invisible, yet infinite, 
 I cast myself into Thy sure embrace. 
 O Light of God, shine through this cloudy night ; 
 God of light, unveil Thy gladdening face. 
 
 Happy in knowing Thee, my Lord and God ; 
 ' Happ3^ in finding Thee, my treasure true ; 
 Happy in following Thee, through ill and good, 
 In toiling for Thee, and in suffering too. 
 
 Clear written on the cross I read Thy love ; 
 
 Thy love is there, and there Thy power I see ; 
 The power that comes with healing from above, 
 
 That brings to us a heavenly liberty. 
 
36 POEMS OF LOVE. 
 
 What is the love to me without the cross? 
 
 And what the cross without the love, Lord 
 All sin and weakness I — it is the cross 
 
 That to my broken soul doth health afford. 
 
 O love that passeth knowledge, thee I need ; 
 
 Pour in the heavenly sunshine — fill my heart 
 Scatter the cloud, the doubting, and the dread. 
 
 The joy unspeakable to me impart. 
 
 O love that passeth knowledge, shine on me, 
 As through these sunless solitudes I wind ; 
 
 Brighten my path, give buoyant liberty. 
 Nerve for the fight, unburden and unbind. 
 
 AM HIS AND HE MINE. 
 
 <^^ONG did I toil and knew no earthly rest; 
 y^ Far did I rove and found no certain home, 
 At last I sought them in his sheltering breast, 
 Who spreads his arms and bids the weary come, 
 With him I found a home, a rest divine, 
 And I since then am His, and He is mine. 
 
POEMS OF LOVE. 37 
 
 Yes, He is mine ! and naught of earthly things^ 
 Not all the charms of pleasure, wealth or power^ 
 The fame of heroes or the pomp of kings, 
 Could tempt me to forget His love an hour. 
 "Go, worthless world," I cry, "with all that's 
 
 thine ; 
 Go, I my Saviour's am and He is mine." 
 
 The good I have is from His store supplied ; 
 
 The ill is onl}^ what He deems the best ; 
 
 With Him my friend, I'm rich with naught 
 
 beside. 
 And poor without Him, though all possessed. 
 Changes may come, I take or I resign — 
 Content while I am His and He is mine. 
 
 Whate'er may change, in Him no change is 
 
 seen. 
 A glorious sun that wanes not nor declines. 
 Above the clouds and storms He walks serene. 
 And sweetly on his people's darkness shines, 
 All may depart — I fret not, nor repine 
 While I my Saviour's am and He is mine. 
 
 He stays me falling, and lifts me up when 
 
 down ; 
 Reclaims me wandering, guards from ever}^ foe ; 
 Plants on my worthless brow the victor's crown^ 
 Which, in return before His feet I throw, 
 Grieved that I cannot better grace His shrine. 
 Who deigns to own me His, as He is mine. 
 
38 POEMS OF LOVE. 
 
 While here, alas ! I know but half His love, 
 But half discover Him and half adore ; 
 But when I meet Him in the realms above, 
 I hope to love Him better, praise Him more. 
 And feel and tell amid the choir divine, 
 How fully I am His and He is mine. 
 
 Caroline M. Noel. 
 
 MURMURS. 
 
 cvfi^^OME murmur when their sky is clear. 
 And wholly bright to view, 
 
 If one small speck of dark appear 
 
 In their great heaven of blue. 
 
 And some with thankful love are filled, 
 
 If but one streak of light, 
 
 One ray of God's good mercy gild 
 
 The darkness of their night. 
 
 In palaces are hearts that ask, 
 In discontent and pride. 
 Why life is such a dreary task. 
 And all good things denied ; 
 And hearts in poorest huts admire 
 How love has in their aid — 
 Love that not ever seems to tire— ^ 
 Such rich provision made. 
 
POEMS OF LOVE. 39 
 
 "AS MANY AS I LOVE, I CHASTEN." 
 
 .^ptS many as I love ! 
 
 cj^ The shadoAVS fall upon our sunny hours; 
 Darkness and sorrow move 
 Amid our treasures in our joy-built bowers — 
 Yet this sweet comfort ever may be ours — 
 As many as I love. 
 
 As many as I love ! 
 To human eyes God's dealings oft seem dark. 
 
 But He would only prove 
 The sunlight where the cloud alone we mark; 
 He says if wounded souls would only hark 
 
 As many as I love. 
 
 As many as I love ! 
 0, burdened, sorrowing heart! there is for thee; 
 
 Thy Father's hand above 
 Is meting out thee trials, but to be 
 The measure of a good thou can'st not see. 
 
 As many as I love. 
 
 As many as I love 1 
 0, earth's affections are but poor to this 
 
 Which reaches from above ; 
 Thy mortal frailties — change and fade and miss, 
 But this our thought gives everlasting bliss — 
 
 As many as I love. 
 
40 POEMS OF LOVE. 
 
 As many as I love ! 
 These loved ones are the bearers of the cross ; 
 
 Their Christian faith to prove, 
 All earthly gain is counted but a loss, 
 AVhen God says — clearing from the dross — 
 
 As many as I love. 
 
 As many as I love ! 
 When life, work, pain and waiting all are o'er, 
 
 Our earth-tied feet shall move 
 Up golden streets up the celestial shore, 
 And we shall sing with saints forever more — 
 
 As many as I love. 
 
 From — Thoughts of Weary Hours. 
 
 A LITTLE BIRD I AM. 
 
 ^pZ LITTLE bird I am, 
 c5 ^ Shut from the fields of air ; 
 And in my cage I sit and sing 
 
 To Him who placed me there ; 
 Well pleased a prisoner to be 
 Because, my God, it pleases Thee. 
 
POEMS OF LOVE. 41 
 
 Naught have I else to do ; 
 
 I sing the whole day long ; 
 And He whom most I love to please 
 
 Doth listen to my song ; 
 He caught and bound my wandering wing, 
 But still He bends to hear me sing. 
 
 Thou hast an ear to hear, 
 
 A heart to love and bless, 
 And though my* notes were e'er so rude, 
 
 Thou would'st not hear the less ; 
 Because Thou knowest as they fall. 
 That love, sweet love, inspires them all. 
 
 My cage confines me round ; 
 
 Abroad I cannot fly; 
 But though my wing is closely bound, 
 
 My heart's at liberty ; 
 My prison walls cannot control 
 The flight, the freedom, of my soul. 
 
 Oh ! it is good to soar. 
 
 These bolts and bars above. 
 To Him whose purpose I adore — 
 
 Whose providence I love ; 
 And in Thy mighty will to find 
 The joy, the freedom of the mind. 
 
 Madame Cuyon, 
 
42 POEMS OF LOVE. 
 
 THE PRISONER. 
 
 c;^ 
 
 Y soul forgets the fetters that she wears, 
 c±t^ And upward soars and sings : 
 Like captive bird, fast tethered to the stake 
 
 Soon droop her weary wings. 
 The blue sky in the summer sunshine seems 
 
 Each moment yet more near; 
 Till now the cord recalls thelDird to earth 
 
 And dumb he falleth here. 
 Ay, dumb he lies ! but deep within his heart 
 
 Still rests his half-sung hymn, 
 To swell in rapturous tones of love and joy 
 
 When freedom comes to him. 
 
 So garner up, Lord, each glimpse of home 
 
 Vouchsafed by heavenly love : 
 Soon shall the silver cord be loosed, and thou 
 
 Shalt wing thy w^ay above. 
 Though solitude and darkness now be thine. 
 
 Yet count on cloudless days 
 When thy glad voice shall break the silence deep 
 
 With hymns of glorious praise ; 
 In yon far home where thy face soon shall rise 
 
 The spoiler entereth not ; 
 There summer days alone remembered are 
 
 And sin and tears forgot. 
 
POEMS OF LOVE. 43 
 
 THE HUMAN HEART ASKS LOVE. 
 
 HE human heart asks love, but I know 
 That my heart hath from Thee 
 All real, and full, and marvellous affection, 
 So near, so human ! _yet divine perfection, 
 
 Thrills gloriously the mighty glow ! 
 Thy love is enough for me — 
 There were strange soul-depths, restless, vast 
 and broad, 
 
 Unfathomed as the sea; 
 An infinite craving for some infinite stilling, 
 But now Thy perfect love is perfect filling ! 
 Lord Jesus Christ, my Lord, my God 
 
 Thou, Thou art enough for me. 
 
 O love surpassing thought — 
 
 So bright, so grand, so clear, so true, so glorious. 
 
 Love infinite, love tender, love unsought, 
 
 Love changeless, love rejoicing, love victorious! 
 
 And this great love for us in boundless store 
 
 Christ's everlasting love ! What would'st thou 
 
 more? 
 
 F. R. H. 
 
POEMS OF 
 SHADOW AND LIGHT. 
 
 EVENING TEARS AND MORNING SONGS. 
 
 )N the evening there is weeping, 
 Lengthening shadows, failing sight ; 
 Silent darkness slowly creeping 
 Over all things dear and bright. 
 
 In the evening there is weeping 
 Lasting all the twilight through ; 
 
 Phantom shadows, never sleeping. 
 Wakening slumbers of the true. 
 
 In the morning cometh singing 
 Cometh joy, and cometh sight, 
 
 When the sun ariseth, bringing 
 Praises new with thine to blend. 
 
POEMS OF SHADOW AND LIGHT. 45 
 
 In the morning cometh singing 
 
 Songs that ne'er in silence end, 
 Angel minstrels ever bringing 
 
 Praises new with thine to blend. 
 
 Are the twilight shadows casting 
 
 Heavy glooms upon thy heart? 
 Soon in radiance everlasting 
 
 Night forever shall depart. 
 
 Art thou weeping, sad and lonely 
 Through the evening of thy days ? 
 
 All thy sighing shall be only 
 Prelude of more perfect praise. 
 
 Darkest hour is nearest dawning, 
 
 Solemn herald of the day ; 
 Singing cometh in the morning — 
 
 God shall wipe thy tears away. 
 
 F. R. H. 
 
 HE MAKETH ME TO LIE DOWN. 
 
 pJE maketh : yes, He sees us on the mountains, 
 \^ Toil-worn and weary, sadly needing rest ; 
 And yet determined to be pressing onward 
 To gain the summit of some distant crest. 
 
46 POEMS OF SHADOW AND LIGHT. 
 
 Too much intent to listen to His teaching, 
 Too eager to be gladdened by his smile — 
 Too worried often, to hold close communion — 
 And then He bids us rest a littFe while. 
 
 And we rebel : we do not wish to tarrj^ 
 
 It is so hard to feel we must lie down 
 
 Just at the moment when our hopes were highest 
 
 And glory waiting our success to crown ! 
 
 Dear Christian friend, perchance some trying 
 
 illness 
 Has caused th}^ busy steps in life to cease. 
 And placed thee now beside the silent waters, 
 The waters of affliction, but of peace. 
 
 And though the pain is sometimes so distressing 
 Thou can'st not praise, and scarce hast power to 
 
 pray. 
 Still thou art patient, and the loving Shepherd 
 Speaks words of tenderness in His own way. 
 
 And when the pain is past, He then reminds thee 
 Of many hours when thou art strong and well, 
 In which thou scarcely hadst one moment's 
 
 leisure 
 To tell Him everything thou hadst to tell. 
 
 And so He took thee from the hum of voices 
 And will most tenderly thy soul restore. 
 Until thou art refreshed and duly strengthened, 
 To walk more watchfully than heretofore. 
 
POEMS OF SHADOW AND LIGHT. 47 
 
 Or else to tread with faith renewed made firmer. 
 The valley that grows bright when He is near, 
 And thence to enter where no rest is needed, 
 Upon the duties of a nobler sphere. 
 
 THE PILGRIM'S PATH. 
 
 & 
 
 T may be thou art called to walk to-day 
 
 <£) Amid earth's shadows — that thy homeward 
 
 way 
 Is dark, and long, and desolate and drear; 
 Yet, oh ! forget not that thy Lord is near, 
 So very near, and, oh ! so strong to save ! 
 Then let thy heart be calm ; and stayed and brave. 
 The one who walketh with thee in the way 
 Is called '' The mighty God : " then gladly lay 
 Thy Borrows and thy burdens all on Him, 
 And He will carry them. No cloud can dim 
 The light of perfect love : His thoughts toward thee 
 Have been naught else from all eternity. 
 'Tis but a little while and thou shalt stand 
 Within the radiant undefiled land 
 Of Christ the King. Be comforted loved child 1 
 He knoweth that thy path is rough and wild ! 
 But what a weary rugged path was His ! 
 Oh, rest thee, satisfied with that which is — 
 His love encircling thee as heretofore, 
 His glorious presence with thee evermore! 
 
48 POEMS OF SHADOW AND LIGHT. 
 
 FROM DAY TO DAY. 
 
 Mf ^ days are stairs that lead to life's great end, 
 d>^ And one by one I steadily ascend ; 
 Climbing with purpose true the upward road, 
 That brings me to the city of my God. 
 Sometimes the step is bright with the full sun 
 That shines in cloudless radiance thereon; 
 Sometimes a shadow falls upon the way, 
 But, dark, or light, I need not go astray. 
 One stair is rough with thorn-points ail bestrown 
 But shoes of iron tread the nettles down ; 
 And one so steep my weary, crippled feet — 
 The painful ascent scarcely can complete — 
 Sometimes it a slippery step I tread, 
 And fierce temptations make my soul afraid, 
 But held in Christ's dear hands, so tender, strong, 
 The next I mount with courage and a song. 
 Each step in the long course a history has; 
 I make a mark as one by one I pass — 
 A gladsome record here, a tearspot there, 
 A rescued soul, a struggle or a prayer. 
 And on life's mystic ladder to the skies 
 Bright angels come and go to Paradise; 
 And work grows dearer as the end draws near, 
 Until I reach at last the golden stair. 
 And enter through the open pearly gate, 
 Where, with our King, souls watch for me and wait; 
 There at his feet I'll cast my trophies down. 
 And shout the victory which His love has won. 
 
 Mrs. H. E. Brown. 
 
POEMS OF SHADOW A]^D LIGHT. 49 
 
 SOUL BREATHINGS. 
 
 oc^ORD! my heavy heart is wounded, 
 yk. Thou can'st heal. 
 Lord ! thou knowest, by grief surrounded, 
 What I feel- 
 Weak and faint I kneel before Thee, 
 Scarce have power for aid to implore Thee. 
 Mists of night seem gathering o'er me, 
 While I kneel— 
 Jesus help my feeble spirit. 
 Save thine own ! 
 I can only plead Thy merit. 
 Thine alone — 
 
 Prayer, my last resource, seems failing; 
 Fear my prostrate soul assailing, 
 Help me with Thy grace prevailing, 
 From Thy throne — 
 Help me when the waves of anguish 
 O'er me roll. 
 
 Help me when with grief I languish, 
 Make me whole : 
 
 See the crushed seed broken lying. 
 Hear the thirsty desert sighing; 
 Send Thy dew ; revive the dying, 
 Save my soul. 
 
50 POEMS OF SHADOW AND LIGHT. 
 
 LINES. 
 
 [ILLOWY clouds and cold moonlight, 
 Struggling upon the sky — ^ 
 Wrapping the world in shade and light 
 
 Strive for the mastery, 
 Striving upon the silent sky. 
 
 And lo ! the glorious light, 
 With pure, pale fingers, parts the clouds, 
 
 And fingers them with white. 
 
 Unlike the clouds, that on my heart 
 
 So dark and heavy lie ; 
 Oh, moon ! in all the world, dost see 
 
 Aught half so sad as I ? 
 And vainly does the angel strive, 
 
 The angel in my heart, 
 With lifted brow of holy light. 
 
 Their heavy folds to part'. 
 
 For still upon the faint white wings 
 
 The dreary earth clouds lie, 
 Until I think in all the world, 
 
 None are so sad as I ! 
 Oh ! loitering soul, awake — arise 
 
 From thy dull lethargy ! 
 Trample the wretched lures of earth — 
 
 The pleading angel free ! 
 
POEMS OF SHADOW AND LIGHT. ql 
 
 Oh might its grieving wings unbound, 
 
 Cleave the encircling clouds — 
 Scatter like sunbeams the earth mist 
 
 That now its light enshrouds ; 
 The pale buds that open upon my heart, 
 
 Like weeds whose sullen cling, 
 Looking upon the cold damp ground 
 
 Their lips sweet uttering — 
 
 Would open their rich glowing leaves ; 
 
 The waves of poesy, 
 That rest in their unfathomed deeps, 
 
 A sealed mystery 
 Would gush from out their dark recess, 
 
 And sparkle in the glow 
 Shed from the angel's glorious wings — 
 
 The angel's radiant brow. 
 
 Oh earth-bound soul, my mournful heart 
 
 Thrills in its prison home. 
 To think of all thou might achieve — 
 
 Of all thou might become ! 
 Oh ! laggard soul, that still dost sit 
 
 With dreamy closed eye — 
 
 Alas ! alas ! in all the world 
 
 Is aught so sad as I ? 
 
 V. Thomas. 
 
TO FRIENDS IN SORROW. 
 
 Dear Friends in Sorrovj : 
 
 May the vStar of Bethlehem cheer you on 
 your way, and in the darkness and loneliness of 
 your saddened lives be ever near. He who stilled 
 the tempest can stay the heart-waves, and whisper, 
 " Peace, be still." May His presence comfort you and 
 fill the lonely chamber in your souls — whence your 
 dearest hopes have flown. He knows our grief, the 
 losses that rend the heart, that darken the life, the 
 bitterness of those mournful words, " No more — no 
 more." Will not He who wept over dead Lazarus, 
 dry our tears? May you find a healing balm in His 
 promises and rest in the " Everlasting Arms," that 
 cannot weary and the love that knows no change. 
 No one can know the bitter cup of sorrow unless 
 tasted by self; sadness and loneliness must be felt to 
 be fully understood. The heart quivers almost to 
 breaking as you softly enter into that vacant cham- 
 ber, where that precious form had rested ; every 
 spot brings some sweet remembrance of your be- 
 loved. There are the empty chair, the things they 
 so much loved and prized, all — all. You almost 
 
TO FRIENDS IN SORROW. 53 
 
 feel the touch of that dear hand and hear the sound 
 of the loved voice and the footsteps of the dear 
 form you so often listened for, and which now can 
 come to you no more. But a beam of light comes 
 in the darkened room and darker heart. Our be- 
 loved is not here but risen; not dead but sleepeth. 
 They have only gone on before; 'tis but a narrow 
 passage divides their heavenly home from ours. 
 They are the silver cords drawing us to the other 
 land, our links to an immortal life. The door into 
 that home is so near we almost hear the angel 
 voices, and their songs of joy; their white wings 
 seem to hover near and glimpses of their eternal 
 home '' come gleaming through the gloom." A soft 
 voice so full of tender sweetness whispers, "As one 
 whom his mother comforteth, so will I comfort you, 
 and ye shall be comforted." " When thou passest 
 through the waters, I will be with thee and through 
 the rivers they shall not overflow thee." Dry the 
 teardrops, friend ; soon the angel messenger will 
 come and take us home and we shall join our be- 
 loved, hand in hand, heart to heart, forever. 
 
POEMS OF SORROW. 
 
 SORROW AND CONSOLATION. 
 
 [CM HAT lack the valleys and mountains, 
 ^"5^ That once were green and gay? 
 What lack the babbling fountains? 
 
 Their voice is sad to-da}^ 
 Only the sound of a voice, 
 
 Tender, and sweet, and low ; 
 That made the earth rejoice 
 A year ago. 
 
 What lack the tender flowers ? 
 
 A shadow is on the sun; 
 What lack the merry hours, 
 
 That I long that they were done ? 
 Only two smiling e3^es, 
 
 That told of joy and mirth ; 
 
 They are shining in the skies — 
 
 I mourn on earth ! 
 
 Adelaide A. Procter. 
 
POEMS OF SORROW. 55 
 
 THE LITTLE HANDS IN HEAVEN. 
 
 Bishop Hamline makes this record in his diary: "Last night I 
 dreamed that my little girl in Heaven held out her hand to me, and I 
 kissed it with rapture." She had been dead many years. 
 
 IS years ago since my darling died — 
 Went home to live, I mean, 
 Last night came over the jasper tide 
 
 A message of joy serene. 
 I dreamed she stood on the shining strand, 
 
 Reaching her hand to me ; 
 I kissed it with rapture, the little hand 
 
 I had longed so much to see. 
 
 I missed her sore when she fell asleep. 
 
 And her tiny grave was made; 
 That earth on my heart was a heavy heap. 
 
 That grass a weary shade. 
 I knew she was living, safe and glad. 
 
 In the garden of souls above ; 
 I told my heart it must not be sad — 
 
 But I mourned with a father's love. 
 
 0, rapturous vision to see her stand 
 
 Reaching her hand to me. 
 As if the gates of the glory-land 
 
 Swung wider to let me see. 
 Yet oft has my heart been heavenward drawn 
 
 By that little hand unseen ; 
 Going before, it has waved me on, 
 
 A star the clouds between. 
 
56 POEMS OF SORROW. 
 
 Bless God for the hands we've folded here, 
 
 With a fading rose in their clasp, 
 Whose touch is strong through each fleeting year, 
 
 Our weary souls to grasp. 
 Bless God for the little hands above, 
 
 Whose toil so soon was o'er, 
 Though now around His throne of love 
 
 They serve Him evermore. 
 
 Priscilla J. Owens. 
 
 AFTER SUNSET; 
 
 EST! rest! four little letters, one short word. 
 Enfolding an infinitude of bliss. 
 Rest is upon the earth! Thank God, no light, 
 No open-eyed, loud-voiced, quick-motioned light; 
 Nothing but gloom and rest. Oh, better far. 
 Better than bliss, is rest. 
 
 Oh, for a soul-sleep — long, and deep, and still ! 
 To lie down quiet after the weary day, 
 Dropping all pleasant flowers from the numbed 
 
 hands, 
 Bidding " Good night ! " to all companions dear, 
 Drawing the curtains on this darkened world ; 
 Closing the eyes, and, with a patient sigh. 
 Murmuring "Our Father!" fall on sleep, till dawn. 
 
 Dinah Mulock Craik. 
 
POEMS OP SORROW. 57 
 
 CONSOLATION. 
 
 \^LL are not taken ; there are left behind 
 Living beloveds — tender looks to bring 
 And make the daylight still a happy thing; 
 And tender voices, to make soft the wind. 
 But if it were not so — if I could find 
 No love in all the world for comforting, 
 Nor any path but hollowly did ring; 
 Where " dust to dust " the love from life disjoined, 
 And if, before those sepulchers unmoving, 
 I stood alone (as some forsaken lamb 
 Goes bleating up the moors in weary dearth). 
 Crying, " Where are ye, my loved and loving?" 
 I know a voice would sound, ''Daughter, I Am; 
 Can I suffice for heaven and not for earth?" 
 
 Elizabeth B. Buowning. 
 
 DEAR LITTLE HANDS. ' 
 
 ))EAR little hands, I loved them so ! 
 
 And now they are lying under the snow ; 
 Under the snow so cold and white. 
 And I cannot see them or touch them to-night. 
 They are quiet and still, at last, ah me ! 
 How busy and restless they used to be ; 
 But now they can never reach up thro' the snow. 
 Dear little hands I loved them so ! 
 
 4 
 
58 POEMS OF SORROW. 
 
 Dear little hands I miss them so, 
 
 All through the day, wherever I go ; 
 
 All through the night, how lonely it seems. 
 
 For no little hands wake me out of my dreams. 
 
 I miss them through all the weary hours ; 
 
 I miss them as others miss sunshine and flowers, 
 
 Day-time and night-time, wherever I go. 
 
 Dear little hands, I miss them so ! 
 
 Dear little hands, they have gone from me now, 
 
 Never again will they rest on my brow ; 
 
 Never again smooth my sorrowful face; 
 
 Never clasp mine in their childish embrace ; 
 
 And my forehead grows wrinkled and aged with 
 
 care. 
 Thinking of little hands once resting there. 
 
 But I know in a happier heavenly clime. 
 
 Dear little hands, I shall meet you some time! 
 
 Dear little hands, when the Master shall call, 
 I'll welcome the summons that comes to us all ; 
 When my feet touch the waters, -^o dark and so 
 
 cold, 
 And I catch the first glimpse of " The City of 
 
 Gold." 
 If I keep my eyes fixed on the heavenly gate, 
 Over the tide, where the white-robed ones wait. 
 Shall I know you, I wonder, among the bright 
 
 bands? 
 Will you beckon me over, oh, dear little hands ? 
 
POEMS OF SORROW. 59 
 
 HE CARRIES THE LAMBS IN HIS BOSOM. 
 
 :r 
 
 ^ SWEET golden head had forgotten life's way, 
 
 Asleep on its pillow of roses, 
 Wee hands shutting close as if tired of play, 
 
 Like buds which the summer discloses; 
 But the beautiful song of my birdie was still. 
 
 And over the lips as my blossom 
 The dimples lay white as the frost on the rill. 
 
 When a spirit sang low to my spirit at will, 
 " He carries the lambs in his bosom." 
 
 There is never a lamb from love's sorrowful fold 
 But wanders in fields that are vernal, 
 
 And never a bud hid away from the cold 
 But blossoms in the summer eternal ; 
 
 When storms sweep the hills, and the night 
 gathers deep, 
 I think of my Paradise blossom. 
 
 And hear the same song for the weary that weep, 
 " The weakest are safest, for, over the steep. 
 He carries the lambs in his bosom." 
 
 . RESTORATION. 
 
 ' ' E clothes thy soul in spotless dress, 
 
 In bridal raiment white and clean; 
 The Spirit's bridal robe of peace. 
 Sign of the inward grace unseen. 
 
60 POEMS OF SORROW 
 
 The love that sweeps the spirit o'er, 
 
 Effacing every stain of sin, 
 Flows through the spirit evermore — 
 
 A well of heavenly life within. 
 
 Thus hallowed names, forgotten long. 
 Familiar names which once were thine, 
 
 With all the old attraction strong, 
 Embrace thy soul from lips Divine. 
 
 Soft from a Father's house above 
 Floats down on thee the name of child. 
 
 From love beyond a mother's love, 
 
 Which on thy guiltless childhood smiled. 
 
 • And when the age its circuit ends, 
 
 And the great marriage-day is there, 
 And from the heavens a Bride descends — 
 Thou, clothed in white, the bliss shalt share. 
 
 WEEP NOT FOR ME. 
 
 HEN the spark of life is waning. 
 
 Weep not for me ! 
 When the languid eye is straining. 
 
 Weep not for me ! 
 When the feeble pulse is ceasing, 
 Start not at its swift decreasing — 
 'Tis the fettered soul's releasing ; 
 
 Weep not for me ! 
 
POEMS OF SORROW. 61 
 
 When the pangs of death assail me, 
 
 Weep not for me ! 
 Christ is mine, He cannot fail me; 
 
 Weep not for me ! 
 Yea, though sin and death endeavor 
 From His love my soul to sever, 
 Jesus is my strength forever. 
 
 Weep not for me ! 
 
 TEARS. 
 
 'HANK God! bless God! all ye who suffer not 
 More grief than ye can weep for. That is well — 
 That is light grieving! lighter none befall 
 Since Adam forfeited the primal lot. 
 Tears! what are tears? The babe weeps in its cot, 
 The mother singing; at her marriage-bell. 
 The bride weeps; and before the oracle 
 Of high-famed hills, the poet has forgot 
 Such moisture on his cheeks. Thank God for 
 
 grace, 
 Ye who weep only! If, as some have done, 
 Ye grope tear-blinded in a desert place 
 And touch but tombs — look up ! those tears will 
 
 run, 
 Soon in long rivers, down the lifted face, 
 And leave the vision clear for stars and sun. 
 
 Elizabeth B. Browning. 
 
POEMS OF '*AT THE GATE." 
 
 SOMETIME. 
 
 OMETIME ! 
 ^1 When the winds are soft and the skies are fair, 
 And fresh-lipped flowers are everywhere, 
 And bird-songs float on the balmy air; 
 
 Perchance, I'll see 
 On the troubled waters a gleaming sail. 
 And I shall know that a boatman pale 
 Has come for me. 
 
 Sometime ! 
 It may be at noon on a summer's day, 
 'Mid the heat of toil, I shall pass away, 
 And sweetly sleep through the long, long day — 
 
 Forgetting care ; 
 And the sheaf will drop from the reaper's hand, 
 And lie unbound where the stubbles stand; 
 And there will be grief in the family band, 
 
 I shall not share. 
 
POEMS OF ''AT THE GATE:' 63 
 
 Sometime ! 
 It may be when the sheaves are gathered in, 
 And the corn is drawn to the waiting bin, 
 And the goodly fruit is stored within. 
 
 And the bright leaves fall ; 
 I shall look my last on the sunset's gold. 
 And joyfully pass to the heavenly fold, 
 
 At the Master's call ! 
 
 Sometime ! 
 It may be at noon of a winter's night 
 I shall pass from darkness into the light, 
 And, wearing a garment pure and white, 
 
 Seek the bright shore ; 
 It matters not what the hour may be. 
 Or the place — if the angels wait for me 
 
 At the heavenly door ! 
 
 HIS NAME. 
 
 HEN shall I go where my Redeemer is. 
 In the far City on the other side, 
 And at the threshold of His palaces 
 Shall loose my sandals ever to abide ? 
 I know my heavenly King will smiling wait 
 To give me welcome, as I touch the gate. 
 
64 POEMS OF "AT THE GATE." 
 
 joy! bliss! for I shall see His face, 
 Aud wear the blessed Name upon my brow ; 
 That Name which stands for pardon, love and 
 
 grace ; 
 That Name before which every knee shall bow ; 
 No music half so sweet can ever be 
 As that dear Name which He shall write for me. 
 
 Crowned with His royal signet, I shall walk 
 With lifted forehead through the eternal street; 
 And, with a holier mien and gentle talk, 
 Shall tell my story to the friends I meet 
 Of how the King did stoop His Name to write 
 Upon my brow in characters of light. 
 
 ALMOST HOME. 
 
 >ROM earth retiring, 
 Heavenward aspiring, 
 
 All my long day's work below now done 
 Calmly reclining, 
 All un repining, 
 
 Jesus, let me lean on Thy love alone. 
 
 On love relying. 
 Thy love undying, 
 
 Not a shade can fall upon my soul; 
 Here am I resting, 
 The joy foretasting 
 
 Of the life beyond this life's dark goal. 
 
POEMS OF ''AT THE GATE.'' 65 
 
 Thine arms embracing, 
 Each shadow chasing, 
 
 Chains of flesh now cease my soul to hold; 
 Pilgrim staff breaking, 
 Royal badge taking, 
 
 Earth's torn raiment all exchanged for gold. 
 
 No more low-caring. 
 No more wayfaring. 
 
 These soiled sandals loosed and flung away. 
 Done with the soiling, 
 Done with the toiling. 
 
 All my burdens lay I down for aye. 
 
 Ended the jarring. 
 Past all the warring, 
 
 Quit I gladly life's rude war array; 
 Victory crying, 
 Enemies flying. 
 
 Thus my armor put I off for aye. 
 
 Pain yet assails me, 
 Strength ofttimes fails me, 
 
 Yet my weakness is my strength and rest; 
 Light o'er me stealing, 
 Softly revealing, 
 
 Scenes of glory up among the blest. 
 
 Head no more sinking. 
 Eyes no more shrinking. 
 
 From the world's gay glitter here below; 
 Life's cup is draining, 
 Time's star is waning — 
 
 Christ Jesus, receive my soul ! to Thee I go. 
 
66 
 
 POEMS OF ''AT THE GATE." 
 
 Earth is retreating, 
 Heaven is me greeting, 
 
 Hope is lighting up new scenes above ; 
 Tranquilly lying, 
 Peacefully dying, 
 
 Jesus beckons upward to His love. 
 
POEMS OF HEAVEN. 
 
 THIS IS HEAVEN. 
 
 ;HIS is heaven — the thought how cheering 
 To the loved ones left behind; 
 When our friends are disappearing, 
 
 how sweet to bear in mind — 
 That when life with us is ended 
 
 We like them shall upward rise ; 
 And by shining bands attended, 
 
 Go to join these heavenly ties. 
 
 This is heaven — the strong attraction, 
 
 Draws us upward to that place, 
 Where with joyful satisfaction 
 
 We shall see them face to face ; 
 Without fear of separation, 
 
 In that land of light and love, 
 We shall sing the great salvation. 
 
 And its fullest pleasures prove. 
 
 M. H. 
 
68 POEMS OF HEAVEN. 
 
 HEAVEN. 
 
 [EYOND these chilling winds and gloomy skies, 
 Beyond death's cloudy portal, 
 There is a land where beauty never dies, 
 Where love becomes immortal. 
 
 A land whose life is never dimmed by shade, 
 
 Whose fields are ever vernal, 
 Where nothing beautiful can ever fade. 
 
 But blooms for aye eternal. 
 
 Thy city's shining towers we may not see. 
 
 With our dim earthly vision. 
 For death, the silent warder, keeps the key 
 
 That opes the gates Elysian. 
 
 But sometimes when adown the western sky 
 
 A fiery sunset lingers, 
 Its golden gates swing inward noiselessly, 
 
 Unlocked by unseen fingers. 
 
 And while they stand a moment half ajar. 
 
 Gleams from the inner glory 
 Stream brightly through the. azure vault afar 
 
 And half reveal the story. 
 
 land unknown! land of love divine ! 
 
 Father, all-wise eternal ! 
 Oh, guide these wandering way-worn feet of mine 
 
 Into those pastures vernal. 
 
 Nancy Priest. 
 
POEMS OF HEAVEN. 69 
 
 HIGH THE ANGEL CHOIRS ARE RAISING. 
 
 c;.^^WEETEST strains from soft harps stealing, 
 ^f^ Trumpet's notes of trumpets- pealing, 
 Kadiant wings, and white stoles gleaming. 
 Up the steps of glory streaming, 
 Where the heavenl}^ bells are ringing 
 Holy, holy, holy ! crying : 
 For all earthly care and sighing 
 In that city cease to be ! 
 
 Oh, how beautiful that region ! 
 And how fair that heavenly reign 
 Where thus men and angel bend. 
 Glorious will that city be, 
 Full of deep tranquillity — 
 Light and peace from end to end ; 
 All the happy dwellers there 
 Shine in robes of purity, 
 
 Keep the laws of charity. 
 Bound in firmest vanity 
 Labor finds them not, nor care ; 
 Ignorance can ne'er perplex, 
 Nothing tempt them, nothing vex ; 
 Joy and health their fadeless blessing 
 Alway all things good possessing. 
 
 Thomas A'Kempis. 
 
70 POEMS OF HEAVEN. 
 
 Take wing my soul, take wing, 
 
 The promise of the Spring 
 
 Fills all the balmy air and budding earth — 
 
 All sleeping life is springing to its birth. 
 
 And art thou slumbering? 
 
 My soul take wing. 
 
 Take wing my soul, take wing. 
 
 And awaken with the Spring. 
 
 The winds of God through all His heavens blow, 
 
 The heavenly streams through all His pastures 
 
 flow ; 
 And art thou slumbering? 
 My soul take wing. 
 
 Mary A. Lathbury. 
 
 PALM BEARER. 
 
 ARK I the innumerable throng, 
 
 Loved from earth's remotest bounds, 
 Sing their everlasting song: 
 
 Through the golden gate it sounds. 
 
 Christ hath loved them everyone ; 
 
 He hath led them by the hand : 
 Souls redeemed before the throne 
 
 Now have Palms — behold them stand. 
 
POEMS OF HEAVEN. 71 
 
 Hark ! the voices sweetly rise 
 
 Like the angel's rushing wing, 
 As it cleaves its native skies, 
 
 Joyful tidings home to bring. 
 
 " We the toil and burden bore 
 
 But the noontide heat is done; 
 Earthly warfare now is o'er 
 
 And our happy rest is won. 
 
 Lamb of God ! Thy temple's dower 
 
 Is the light that fadeth never; 
 Glory, might, salvation, power, 
 
 Be unto our God forever." 
 
 THE WHITE ROBED SAINTS. 
 
 HO are those whose songs are sounding 
 O'er the golden harps above? 
 Hark ! they tell of grace abounding. 
 And Jehovah's sovereign love. 
 
 Who are they that keep their station 
 Round the great eternal throne? 
 
 They from earthly tribulation 
 To their heavenly rest have gone. 
 
72 POEMS OF HEA VEX. 
 
 See their robes of dazzling whiteness, 
 Without blemish, spot or stain ; 
 
 See their crowns that grow in brightness, 
 Purchased by the Lamb once slain. 
 
 Never heat shall beat upon them, 
 Thirst nor hunger reach them there; 
 
 He whose life from death had won them, 
 Bids them now his glory share. 
 
 Feeble hearts are nerved for duty, 
 Faltering feet now firmly stand ; 
 
 Palms of unfading beauty, 
 
 Mark earth's once despised band. 
 
 'Tis the Lamb of God that leads them, 
 And they serve Him night and day ; 
 
 By the heavenly founts he feeds them, 
 He hath wiped their tears away. 
 
 Sweet their theme ! 'Tis still " Salvation," 
 Unto Christ the " Holy One ! " 
 
 And their sighs of tribulation. 
 
 Change to songs around the throne. 
 
POEMS OF THE UNKNOWN LAND. 
 
 THE DAWN OF THE BRIGHTER DAY. 
 
 jH, mourn not for me, for I weep no more ; 
 Death's bitterest pang is past, 
 On the tears that fell on my thorny way 
 
 A rainbow light is cast. 
 It comes from the smile of my Saviour's love, 
 
 A smile that the angels share ; 
 And fair is the land that its light illumes. 
 Nor sorrow nor tears are there. 
 
 Though dark seemed my path to your tender heart, 
 
 It was not dark to me ; 
 The shadows that come with the morning sun 
 
 At eventide will flee; 
 For the footprints still where my Saviour trod 
 
 Through the valley a glory wear ; 
 They lead to the land where the dawn shall break ; 
 
 No shadow, no night, is there. 
 5 
 
74 POEMS OF THE UNKNOWN LAND. 
 
 BEYOND. 
 
 EYOND life's toils and cares, 
 
 Its hopes and joys, its weariness and sorrows, 
 Its sleepless nights, its days of smiles and tears. 
 Will be a long, sweet life, unmarked by years — 
 
 One bright unending morrow ! 
 
 Beyond Time's troubled stream. 
 
 Beyond the chilling waves of Death's dark river, 
 Beyond life's lowering clouds and fitful gleams. 
 Its dark realities and brighter dreams — 
 
 A beautiful forever. 
 
 No aching hearts are there. 
 
 No tear-dimmed eye, no form by sickness wasted, 
 No cheek grown pale through penury or care, 
 No spirits crushed beneath the woee they bear, 
 
 No sighs for bliss untasted. 
 
 No sad farewell is heard. 
 
 No lonely wail for loving ones departed, 
 No dark remorse is there o'er memories stirred. 
 No smile of scorn, no harsh or cruel word 
 
 To grieve the broken-hearted. 
 
 No long, dark night is there. 
 
 No light from sun or silvery moon is given ; 
 But Christ, the Lamb of God, all bright and fair, 
 Illumes the city with efiulgence rare, 
 
 The glorious light of Heaven ! 
 
POEMS OF THE UNKNOWN LAND. 75 
 
 No mortal eye hath seen 
 
 The glories of that land beyond that river — 
 Its crystal lakes, its fields of living green, 
 Its fadeless flowers and the unchanging sheen 
 
 Around the throne forever. 
 
 Ear hath not heard the song 
 
 Of rapturous praise within that shining portal; 
 No heart of man hath dreamed what joys belong 
 To that redeemed and happy blood-washed throng, 
 
 All glorious and immortal. 
 
 SONG OF THE SILENT LAND. 
 
 ;4NT0 the Silent Land ! 
 
 -p) Ah ! who shall lead us thither ? 
 
 Clouds in the evening sky more darkly gather, 
 
 And shattered wrecks lie thicker on the strand; 
 
 Who leads us with a gentle hand 
 
 Thither, oh thither, 
 
 Into the Silent Land ? 
 
 Into the Silent Land ! 
 
 To you, ye boundless regions 
 
 Of all perfection ! Tender moving visions 
 
 Of beauteous souls ! The future's pledge and land ! 
 
 Who in life's battle firm doth stand 
 
 Shall bear hope's tender blossoms 
 
 Into the Silent Land ! 
 
76 POEMS OF THE UNKNOWN LAND. 
 
 OLand! Land ! 
 
 For all the broken-hearted ! 
 
 The mildest herald by our fate allotted 
 
 Beckons, and with inverted torch doth stand 
 
 To lead us with a gentle hand 
 
 Into the land of the great departed, 
 
 Into the Silent Land ! 
 
 JOHANN GaUDEUTZ VON SaLIS. 
 
 ^ 
 
 A LITTLE WAY. 
 
 ^ LITTLE way ; I know it is not far 
 (^ To that dear home where my beloved are; 
 And yet my faith grows weaker as I stand 
 A poor, lone pilgrim in a dreary land, 
 Where present pain the future bliss obscures. 
 And still my heart sits like a bird upon 
 The empty nest and mourns its treasure gone ; 
 Plumed for their flight, 
 And vanished quite. 
 
 Ah, me! Where is the comfort — though I say 
 They have but journeyed on a little way. 
 A little way — at times they seem so near, 
 Their voices ever murmur at my ear ; 
 To all my duties loving presence lend, 
 And with sweet ministry my steps attend, 
 And bring my soul the luxury of tears. 
 
POEMS OF THE UNKNOWN LAND. 77 
 
 'Twas here we met and parted company. 
 
 Why should their gain be such a grief to me ? 
 
 This sense of loss ! This heavy cross ! 
 
 Dear Saviour take this burden off I pray, 
 
 And show me heaven is but a little way. 
 
 These sombre robes, these saddened faces all, 
 
 The bitterness the pain of death recall ; 
 
 Ah ! let me turn my face where'er I may 
 
 I see the traces of sure decay ; 
 
 And parting takes the marrow out of life. 
 
 Secure in bliss we hold the golden chain 
 
 Which death, with scarce a warning snaps in twain ; 
 
 And never more 
 
 Shall time restore 
 
 The broken links ; twas only yesterday 
 
 They vanished from our sight — yesterday. 
 
 A little way — this sentence I repeat, 
 
 Hoping and longing to extract'some sweet; 
 
 To mingle with the bitter from Thy hand 
 
 I take the cup I cannot understand. 
 
 And in my weakness give myself to Thee ! 
 
 Although it seems so very, very far 
 
 To that dear home where my beloved are 
 
 I know, I know, 
 
 It is not so ! 
 
 Oh, give me faith to feel it when I say 
 
 That they are gone — gone 
 
 But a little way. 
 
78 POEMS OF THE UNKNOWN LAND. 
 
 WINGS. 
 
 INGS ! wings ! to sweep 
 O'er mountain high and valley deep. 
 Wings! that my heart may rest 
 In the radiant morning's breast. 
 
 Wings! to hover free 
 
 O'er the dawn-empurpled sea. 
 
 Wings! above life to soar, 
 
 And beyond death forevermore. 
 
 RUCKERT. 
 
 ANGELIC MINISTRY. 
 
 ND is there care in heaven ? And is there love 
 In heavenly spirits to these creatures base, 
 That may compassion of their evils move? 
 There is : else much more wretched were the case 
 Qf man than beasts : but, O, the exceeding grace 
 Of highest God, that loves his creatures so, 
 
 And all His works with mercy doth embrace, 
 That blessed angels He sends to and fro 
 To serve to wicked man, to serve his wicked foe. 
 
POEMS OF THE UNKNOWN LAND. 79 
 
 How oft do they their silver bowers leave 
 To come to succor us that succor want ! 
 
 How oft do they with golden pinions cleave 
 The flitting skies, like flying pursuivant, 
 Against foul fiends to aid us militant ! 
 
 They for us fight, they w^atch and duly ward, 
 And their bright squadrons round about us 
 plant ; 
 
 And all for love and nothing for reward; 
 
 O, why should heavenly God to men have such 
 regard? Spencer. 
 
 THE BETTER LAND. 
 
 HEAR thee speak of the better land. 
 Thou call'st its children a happy band ; 
 Mother ! oh where is that radiant shore ? 
 Shall we not seek it and weep no more ? 
 Is it where the flowers of the orange blows, 
 And the fireflies dance through the myrtle boughs ? 
 Not there, not there, my child. 
 
 Is it where the feathery palm trees rise, 
 And the date grows ripe under sunny skies ; 
 Or 'midst the green islands of glittering seas 
 Where the fragrant forests perfume the breeze 
 And strange bright birds on their starry wings 
 Bear the rich hues of all glorious things ? 
 Not there, not there, my child. 
 
80 POEMS OF THE UNKNOWN LAND. 
 
 Is it far away in some region old, 
 Where the rivers wander o'er sands of gold ? 
 Where the burning rays of the ruby shine, 
 And the diamond lights up the secret mine. 
 And the pearl gleams forth from the coral strand — 
 Is it there, sweet mother that better land ? 
 Not there, not there, my child. 
 
 Eye hath not seen it, my gentle boy, 
 Ear hath not heard its deep songs of joy ; 
 Dreams cannot •picture a world so fair, 
 Sorrow and death may not enter there ; 
 Time doth not breathe on its fadeless bloom, 
 For beyond the clouds and beyond the tomb — 
 It is there, it is there, my child. 
 
 Felicia Dorothea Hemans. 
 
POEMS OF OUR DEAD. 
 
 OUR FRIENDS WHO SLEEP. 
 
 crt^j CALL it not death — it is life begun, 
 9^ For the waters are passed, the home is won, 
 The ransomed spirit hath reached the shore, 
 Where they weep and suffer and sin no more. 
 She is safe in her Father's house above. 
 In the place prepared by her Saviour's love ; 
 To depart from a world of sin and strife. 
 And to be with Jesus — yes, this is life. 
 
 Oh, call it not death — 'tis a holy sleep, 
 And the precious dust the Lord doth keep; 
 She shall wake again, and how satisfied 
 With the likeness of Him for her who died! 
 As he rose again, she shall also rise 
 From the quiet bed where now safe she lies. 
 Then cheer ye, fond mourners, who sadly weep. 
 For happy are they who in Jesus sleep. 
 
82 POEMS OF OUR DEAD. 
 
 IT IS NO DREAM. 
 
 AS it a dream? such gladness with it bring- 
 ing, 
 That life whose dawn with such deep joy we 
 hailed — 
 Those loving baby arms so fondly clinging — 
 Those eyes whose smile so soon in death were 
 veiled. 
 
 Alas ! no dream has left such life-long traces, 
 Such silence as that little voice has left, 
 
 The blank no other presence ever replaces. 
 It is no dream which leaves us thus bereft. 
 
 It is no dream ! thy spirit dieth never ! 
 
 That little star through budless time shall beam, 
 Heaven shall be brighter for the light forever, 
 
 And gladder for thy voice. It is no dream ! 
 
 It is no dream ! by God that gift was given ; 
 
 Man may repent his gifts, God deals not thus, 
 A new immortal joy is ours in heaven. 
 
 And he who gave will give thee back to us. 
 
 It is no dream, that Paradise immortal. 
 
 When He who blessed the babes has welcomed 
 thee, 
 
 Fearless the infants pass its solemn portal 
 Borne in His arms. His face alone they see. 
 
POEMS OF OUR DEAD. 83 
 
 Yet Father! who for us in love most tender, 
 Didst yield to death Thy son, Thy only son, 
 
 Thou knowest all the cost of such surrender, 
 Help us to say with Him, Thy will be done. 
 
 Till looking back, with our child beside us, 
 On all the w^ay through which our feet were 
 brought ; 
 
 We sing it is no dream by which God tried us, 
 No dream the weight of glory it has wrought ! 
 
 ON DEATH. 
 
 )T is not death that sometimes m a sigh 
 
 This eloquent breath shall take its speechless 
 flight; 
 
 That sometime these bright stars that now reply 
 In sunlight to the sun shall set in night; 
 That this warm conscious flesh shall perish quite. 
 And all life's ruddy springs forget to flow ; 
 That thoughts shall cease, and the immortal sprite 
 Be wrapped in alien clay and laid below; 
 It is not death to know this, but to know 
 That pious thoughts, which visit at new graves 
 In tender pilgrimage, will cease to go 
 So duly and so soft, and when grass waves 
 Over the past away, there may be then 
 No resurrection in the minds of men. 
 
 Thomas Hood. 
 
84 POEMS OF OUR DEAD. 
 
 FUNERAL BLOSSOMS. 
 
 AM gathering flowers for my dead— 
 The scattered and fugitive flowers, 
 Lone relics of those dear hours 
 When the roses of summer were red. 
 
 They are drooping beautiful yet, 
 Pale as the brow of the lost, 
 Torn by the storm and tossed. 
 
 And wet as my cheeks are wet. 
 
 sad, sweet ones, did you fear 
 The chill of the winter's snow ? 
 Now, alas! you must go 
 
 To the snow-cold breast on the bier. 
 
 LAY DOWN THY SHIELD. 
 
 ^AY down the shield, and quit the sword, 
 n^ For now thy work is done; 
 And swiftly towards the glowing east 
 
 Ascends the rising sun. 
 Angelic awards wait with the day 
 
 Thy crown of light to bring: 
 O grave, where is thy victory? 
 
 O death, where is thy sting? 
 
POEMS OF OUR DEAD. 85 
 
 Bravely hast thou upheld the shield, 
 
 The path of conquest trod, 
 And followed in the battle field 
 
 The banner of thy God. 
 The hour of rest aprproaches nigh, 
 
 And waiting heralds sing : 
 grave, where is thy victory ? 
 
 death, where is thy sting? 
 
 They come! they come! and high in air 
 
 Is borne the victor's wreath. 
 Who overthrew in glorious war 
 
 The world, the grave, and death. 
 There, there they wait to welcome thee, 
 
 And high their triumph ring : 
 grave, where is thy victory ? 
 
 O death, where is thy sting? 
 
 O NOT BY GRAVES! 
 
 NOT by graves should tears be shed, 
 Not there should cypress weave its gloom ; 
 No! gratulations for the dead, 
 And roses for the tomb ! 
 
 Whatever pangs they had are o'er; 
 
 Whatever dark defects are past; 
 What care they now on that still shore 
 
 For bleak misfortune's blast? 
 
86 POEMS OF OUR DEAD. 
 
 Rest all, all ye pale, cold people, rest! 
 
 Scorners alike of pain and time ; 
 with that still, white mantled breast. 
 
 How patient and sublime ! 
 
 But for the troubled living — tears; 
 
 For them the cypress's sad shade. 
 Who yet with agonies and fears 
 
 In battle are arrayed. 
 
 Then not by graves should tears be shed, 
 
 Nor there should cypress weave its gloom; 
 
 No! gratulations for the dead, 
 
 And roses for the tomb ! 
 
 W. R. Wallace. 
 
 DEATH. 
 
 (^^EATH is not ceasing 
 Ever to be. 
 Death is not sleeping 
 Eternally. 
 
 (2. 
 
 To die is beginning 
 
 Really to be 
 Freed from all sinning 
 
 Immortally. 
 
 'Tis passing from darkness 
 
 Into the light ; 
 Just putting off weakness, 
 
 Putting on might. 
 
POEMS OF OUR DEAD. 87 
 
 VEILED ANGELS. 
 
 NNUMBERED blessiogs, rich and free, 
 
 Have come to us, our God, from Thee ; 
 Sweet tokens written with Thy name, 
 Bright angels from Thy face they came. 
 
 Some came with open faces bright. 
 Aglow with heaven's own living light ; 
 And some were veiled, trod soft and slow, 
 And spoke in voices grave and low. 
 
 Veiled angels, pardon! if with fears 
 We met you first, and many tea,rs; 
 We take you to our heart no less. 
 We know ye come to teach and bless. 
 
 We know the love from which ye come. 
 We trace you to our Father's home; 
 We know Him radiant, and how kind 
 Your faces are those veils behind. 
 
 We know those veils one happy day. 
 In earth or heaven shall drop away. 
 And we shall see you as ye are, 
 And learn why thus ye sped from far. 
 
 But what the joy that day shall be 
 We know not yet — we wait to see ; 
 For this, angels! well we know 
 The way ye came, our souls shall go. 
 
POEMS OF^OUR DEAD. 
 
 Up to the love from which ye come, 
 Back to our Father's blessed home ; 
 
 And bright each face unveiled shall shine, 
 Lord, when the veil is rent from Thine ! 
 
 MY DARLINGS' SHOES. 
 
 6^<^0D bless the little feet that can never go astray, 
 \:^ For the little shoes are empty, in the closet 
 
 hid away. 
 Sometimes I take one in my hand, forgetting till 
 ; I see 
 
 It is a little, half-worn shoe, not large enough for 
 
 me; 
 And all at once I feel a sense of bitter loss and 
 
 pain. 
 As sharp as when, two years ago, it cut my heart 
 in twain. 
 
 little feet that wearied not, I wait for them no 
 more ! 
 
 For I am drifting on the tide, but they have 
 reached the shore. 
 
 And while those blinding tear-drops wet these 
 little shoes so old. 
 
 She stands unsandaled in the streets that pearly 
 gates infold. 
 
 So I softly lay them down again, but always turn 
 to say, 
 
 God bless the little feet that now so surely can- 
 not stray ! 
 
POEMS OF OUR DEAD. 89 
 
 And while I thus am standing, I almost seem to 
 
 see 
 Two little forms beside me, just as they used to be; 
 Two little faces lifted, with their sweet and tender 
 
 eyes:' 
 Ah me ! I might have known that look was born 
 
 of paradise. 
 I reach my arms out fondly, but they clasp the 
 
 empty air; 
 There's nothing of my darlings but the shoes they 
 
 used to wear. 
 
 the bitterness of parting cannot be done away 
 
 Till I see my darlings walking where their feet 
 can never stray, 
 
 When I no more am drifting upon the surging 
 tide, 
 
 But with them safely landed upon the river side; 
 
 Be patient, heart! while waiting to see their shin- 
 ing way. 
 
 For the little feet in the golden streets can never 
 go astray. 
 
POEMS OF YOUTH. 
 
 My Dear Young Friends: 
 
 Now is the spring-time of life, when your 
 pathway is filled with flowers and your hearts are 
 light and joyous. Hear, I beseech you, the voice 
 of the tender Shepherd calling you : telling you 
 that earth's pleasures are so fleeting ; and offering 
 you the golden fruit from the Tree of Life, in place 
 of the Sodom Apples of this world. 
 
 If I could how gladly would I shield you from 
 life's trials and temptations, and place you in the 
 blessed refuge of the " Everlasting Arms." Do not 
 waste your precious hours in folly and worldly 
 pleasures; sing out of your young, happy hearts 
 praises to Him who gave you life, sing before the 
 shadows come. " You are not your own, you are 
 bought with a price." Have'you no work to do for 
 Him who redeemed you? A cup of cold water 
 shall not lose its reward. Every act of kindness, 
 every gentle word, every little sacrifice of self and 
 
POEMS OF YOUTH. 91 
 
 time, is noted by the All-seeing Eye. Use in His 
 service the time and talents which God has given 
 you, that in the great day of reckoning you may 
 not be numbered with those whose harvest is 
 ''Nothing but leaves." Christ says "they" (those 
 who are faithful) shall be mine in that day, when 
 I make up my jewels. Ruth was a jewel; John 
 was a jewel ; so may you be. think of the glory 
 to be a star in the crown of the King of kings! 
 Do something for Him ; work for Him ; sing for 
 Him ; talk for Him. You do not know what cheer 
 your bright young faces may bring to the sad heart 
 darkened by sorrow, in some sick room, when pain 
 is the daily companion, and the sufferer is " shut 
 in" from all the light and joy and sunshine that 
 make your fair world. You do not know how that 
 kind act, that cheerful word, that touch of sym- 
 pathy help and gladden the weary one. It may be 
 as the " Balm of Gilead," soothing pain and heart- 
 ache. Each little act of kindness is noted by Him 
 who said : " As ye do it unto them, ye do it unto 
 
 me." 
 
 Work, live for Jesus. E. M. W. 
 
 AFTERNOON. 
 
 c/^^VcC^U said the years have sadder grown 
 V^ Beneath their weight of care and duty. 
 That all the festive grace has flown 
 That garlanded their earlier beauty. 
 
92 POEMS OF YOUTH. 
 
 You tell me Hope no more can daze 
 . Your visions with her bland delusions, 
 Nor Fancy, versed in subtle ways. 
 Seduce you to her gay conclusions. 
 
 The rapturous throb — the bound, the flush, 
 That made all life one strong sensation, 
 
 Grow quiet now beneath the hush 
 Of Time's profounder revelation. 
 
 You have it still, the inviolate past, 
 So pure from all illusive glitter — 
 
 So luminous clear from first to last. 
 With scarce the needful dash of bitter. 
 
 Vixi: — Thus, looking back, you write; 
 
 The best that life can give you've tasted; 
 And drop by drop, translucent, bright, 
 
 You've supped and drained — not one is wasted. 
 
 Yet not in retrospect your eye 
 
 Alone sees pathways pied with flowers; 
 
 You knew, the while the days flew by. 
 They were supremely blissful hours. 
 
 The sun slopes slowly westering still, 
 Behind you now your shadow lengthens. 
 
 And in the vale beneath the hill 
 
 The evening's growing purple strengthens. 
 
 The morning mists that swam your eye. 
 Too vaguely wrapped your young ideal : 
 
 Now, out against your clearer sky, 
 You comprehend the true, the real. 
 
POEMS OF YOUTH. 93 
 
 Life still has joys that do not pall, 
 
 Love still has hours serene and tender: 
 
 'Tis afternoon, dear ! . . . that is all ! 
 And this is afternoon's calm splendor. 
 
 God grant your cloudless orb may run 
 
 Long, golden cycles ere we sever ; 
 Or, like the northern midnight sun, 
 
 Circle with light my heart forever. 
 
 Margaret Preston. 
 
 
 crr^NE by one thy duties meet thee, 
 OJ,^ Let thy whole strength go to each, 
 Let no future dreams elate thee. 
 
 Learn thou first what these can teach. 
 Every hour that passes slowly 
 
 How its task to do or bear. 
 Luminous the crown and holy 
 
 If we set each gem with care. 
 
 Do not linger with regretting. 
 
 Or for passing hours despond. 
 Nor the daily toil forgetting, 
 
 Look too eagerly beyond. 
 Hours are golden links, God's tokens, 
 
 Reaching heaven ; but one by one 
 Take them, lest the chain be broken 
 
 Ere the pilgrimage be done. 
 
94 POEMS OF YOUTH. 
 
 SUNBEAM. 
 
 ;HOU art no lingerer in monarch's hall, 
 A joy thou art, and a wealth to all! 
 A bearer of hope unto land and sea — 
 Sunbeam! what gift hath the world like thee! 
 
 Thou art walking the billows and ocean smiles ; 
 Thou hath touched with glory his thousand isles ; 
 Thou hath lit up the ships and the feathery foam, 
 And gladdened the sailor like words from home. 
 
 I look'd on the mountain — a vapor lay 
 Folding their heights in its dark array ; 
 Thou breakest forth — and the mist became 
 A crown and mantle of living flame. 
 
 I looked on the peasant's lowl}'- cot — 
 Something of sadness had wrapt the spot ; 
 But a gleam of thee on its lattice fell, 
 And it laughed into beauty at that bright spell. 
 
 And thou turnest not from the humblest grave. 
 Where flowers to the sighing wind may wave; 
 Thou scatterest its gloom like the dreams of rest, 
 Thou sleepest in love on its grassy breast. 
 
 Sunbeam of summer ! oh, what is like thee ! 
 Hope of the wilderness, joy of the sea! 
 One thing is like thee to mortals given, 
 The faith touching all things with love of heaven. 
 
 Mrs. Hemans. 
 
POEMS OF SOWING. 
 
 O CHILD OF GOD ! 
 
 WORLD, whose days like sunlit waters glide, 
 oko Whose music links the midnight with the 
 morrow, 
 Who for thine own hast beauty, power and pride, 
 world, what art thou ? And the world re- 
 replied : 
 "• A husk of pleasure, round a heart of sorrow." 
 
 child of God, thou who hast sought thy way 
 Where all this music sounds, this sunlight 
 gleams, 
 Mid pride and power and beauty day by day — 
 
 "And what art thou ? " I heard my own soul say, 
 "A wandering sorrow in a world of dreams." 
 
 W. H. Mallock. 
 
96 POEMS OF SOWING. 
 
 THE SOWERS. 
 
 ;HERE be those who sow beside 
 The waters that in silence glide, 
 Trusting no echo will declare 
 Whose footsteps ever wander there. 
 
 The noiseless footsteps pass away ; 
 The stream flows on as yesterday ; 
 Nor can it for a time be seen 
 A benefactor there had been. 
 
 Yet think not that the seed is dead 
 Which in the lonely place is spread ; 
 It lives, it lives ; the Spring is nigh ; 
 And soon its life shall testify. 
 
 That silent stream, that desert ground, 
 No more unlovely shall be found; 
 But scattered flowers of simplest grace 
 Still spread their beauty round the place. 
 
 And soon or late a time will come 
 When witnesses that now are dumb. 
 With grateful eloquence shall tell. 
 From whom the seed, now scattered, fell. 
 
 Bernard Barton. 
 
POEMS OF SOWING. 97 
 
 WORK. 
 
 HAT are we set on earth for? Say, to toil; 
 ^ Nor seek to leave thy tending of the vines. 
 For all the heat o' the day, till it declines. 
 And death's mild curfew shall from work assoil, 
 God did anoint thee with His odorous oil 
 To wrestle, not to reign ; and He assigns 
 All thy tears over, like pure crystallines, 
 For younger fellow-workers of the soil 
 To wear for amulets. So others shall 
 Take patience, labor, to their heart and hand, 
 From thy hand and thy heart and thy brave cheer, 
 And God's grace fructify through thee to all. 
 The least flower with a brimming cup may stand 
 And share its dewdrop with another near. 
 
 Elizabeth Barrett Browning. 
 
 SEEDS. 
 
 ^ WONDERFUL thing is a seed— 
 cj (^ The one thing deathless forever ! 
 The one thing changeless — utterly true 
 Forever old and forever new. 
 And fickle and faithless never. 
 
98 POEMS OF SOWING. 
 
 Plant blessings, and blessings will bloom ; 
 Plant hate, and hate will grow ; 
 . You can sow to-day — to-morrow shall bring 
 The blossom that proves what sort of a thing 
 Is the seed, the seed that you sow. 
 
 DONE IN FAITH. 
 
 UST one good deed! And though others never 
 know it. 
 Angels will carry it up to the throne ; 
 
 At the hereafter, Christ's records will show it, 
 " Fed thou the hungry ? Come hither, mine own." 
 
 Just one kind word ! And though others never 
 guess it. 
 Angels will chant it at vespers to-night ; 
 At the hereafter, Christ's promise will bless it, 
 " Cheered thou the weary ? Stand thou on my 
 right." 
 
 Just one sharp struggle! Though no eyes be- 
 hold it. 
 Though to the world we have grievously failed, 
 At the hereafter, when angels have told it, 
 Christ's voice will answer, " Thy faith has pre- 
 vailed." 
 
 Warner Snvad. 
 
POEMS OF SOWING. 99 
 
 THROUGH BURDEN AND HEAT OF DAY, 
 
 i^HROUGH burden and heat of day, 
 How weary the hands and the feet, 
 The labor with scarcely a stay 
 Through burden and heat ! 
 Tired toiler whose sleep shall be sweet, 
 Kneel down — it will rest thee to pray; 
 Then forward for daylight is fleet, 
 Cool shadows grow lengthened and gray, 
 Cool twilight will soon be complete. 
 What matter the wearisome way, 
 Through burden and heat. 
 
 Christina Rossetti. 
 
 Lift a little— lift a little ! 
 Many they who need thine aid, 
 Many lying on the wayside 
 'Neath misfortune's dreary shade. 
 Pass not like priest and Levite, 
 Heedless of thy fellow man; 
 But with heart and arms extended. 
 Be the good Samaritan. 
 
 Havergal. 
 
POEMS OF REAPING. 
 
 REAPING. 
 
 EAPER," I said, "among the golden sheaves, 
 Toiling at noon amid the falling leaves, 
 What recompense hast thou for all thy toil? 
 What tithe of all thy Master's wine and oil? 
 Or dost thou coin thy brow's hot drops of gold, 
 Or add to house and land, or flock and fold?" 
 
 The reaper paused from binding close the grain, 
 And said, while shone his smile through labor's 
 
 stain, 
 "I do my Master's work as He has taught; 
 And work of love with gold was never bought; 
 He knoweth all of which my life hath need; 
 His servants reap as they have sown the seed; 
 With all my heart I bind my Master's grain, 
 And love makes sweet my labor and my pain." 
 
POEMS OF REAPING. 101 
 
 THE POOR MAN'S SHEAF. 
 
 ^. .. ■ 
 
 PjE saw the wheat-fields waiting, 
 
 ^ All golden in the sun, 
 And strong and stalwart reapers 
 , Went by him one by one. 
 
 could I reap in harvest! 
 His heart made bitter cry ; 
 
 1 can do nothing ! nothing ! 
 
 So weak, alas! am I. 
 
 At eve a fainting traveler 
 
 Sank down beside the door! 
 A cup of crystal water 
 
 To quench his thirst he bore. 
 And when, refreshed and strengthened, 
 
 The traveler went his way. 
 Upon the poor man's threshold 
 
 A golden wheat-sheaf lay. 
 
 When came the Lord of harvest. 
 
 He cried: "Oh Master, kind. 
 One sheaf I have to offer. 
 
 But that I did not bind. 
 I gave a cup of water 
 
 To one athirst, and he 
 Left at my door in going 
 
 This sheaf I offer thee." 
 
102 POEMS OF REAPING. 
 
 Then said the Master, softly, 
 
 "Well pleased with this am I; 
 One of my angels left it 
 
 With thee as he passed by. 
 Thou may'st not join the reapers 
 
 Upon the harvest plain, 
 But he who helps a brother 
 
 Binds sheaves of richest grain." 
 
 SONGS IN THE NIGHT. 
 
 OW sweet to be singing for Jesus, 
 To be singing in starless night ! 
 How sweet to be singing for Jesus, 
 
 While watching and waiting for light! 
 
 The " Songs in the Night " are as holy 
 As the song that the reapers sing; 
 
 And sheaves that are gathered in darkness 
 As dear to the Saviour and King. 
 
 He listeneth, ever listeneth, 
 
 For the sound of the loved "new song; " 
 As it comes from the darkened chamber, 
 
 Or the midst of the busy throng. 
 
 J. S. F. 
 
POEMS OF REAPING. 103 
 
 VESPERS. 
 
 HEN I have said my quiet say, 
 When I have sung my little song, 
 How sweet, methought, shall die the day 
 
 The valley and the hill along ! 
 How sweet the summons, "Come away!" 
 That calls me from the busy throng. 
 
 I thought beside the water's flow 
 A while to lie beneath the leaves; 
 
 I thought in autumn's harvest glow 
 To rest my head upon the sheaves. 
 
 But, lo! methinks the day is brief 
 
 And cloudy; flower, not fruit nor leaf, 
 I bring; and yet, accepted, free 
 
 And blest, my Lord, I come to Thee ! 
 
 What matters now for promise lost 
 
 Through blast of spring or summer rains ? 
 What matter now for purpose crossed. 
 
 For broken hopes and wasted pains? 
 What if the olive little yields ? 
 
 What if the vine be blasted ? Thine 
 The corn upon a thousand fields, 
 
 Upon a thousand hills the vine! 
 
104 
 
 POEMS OF BEAPIXG. 
 
 Thou lovest still the poor — Oh blest 
 
 In poverty beloved to be! 
 Less lowly is my choice confessed — 
 
 I love the rich in loving Thee. 
 My spirit bare before Thee stands ; 
 
 I bring no gift, I ask no sign ; 
 I come to thee with empty hands, 
 
 The surer to be filled from Thine ! 
 
 Author of " The Patience of Hope. 
 
POEMS OF SUNBEAMS. 
 
 USE ME. 
 
 AKE use of me, my God ! 
 c%T) Let me not be forgot ; 
 
 eJ 
 
 A broken vessel cast aside, 
 One whom thou needest not. 
 
 I am thy creature, Lord ; 
 
 And made by hands divine ; 
 And I am part, however mean, 
 
 Of this great world of Thine. 
 
 Thou usest all Thy works, 
 The weakest things that be ; 
 
 Each has a service of its own. 
 For all things wait on Thee. 
 
 Thou usest the high stars. 
 The tiny drops of dew, 
 
 The giant peak and little hill — 
 My God, oh use me too ! 
 
106 POEMS OF SUNBEAMS. 
 
 Thou usest tree and flower, 
 The river, vast and small ; 
 
 The eagle great, the little bird 
 That sings upon the wall. 
 
 Thou usest the wide sea. 
 The little hidden lake ; 
 
 The pine upon the Alpine cliff, 
 The lily in the brake. 
 
 The huge rock in the vale, 
 The sand-grain by the sea, 
 
 The thunder of the rolling cloud, 
 The murmur of the bee. 
 
 All things do serve Thee here. 
 All creatures great and small ; 
 
 Make use of me, of me, my God, 
 The meanest of them all ! 
 
 THE BRAVE MAN'S CREED. 
 
 HAVE no quarrel with life or death ; 
 I find no fault with tears or pain ; 
 I take from God the myst'ry of breath ; 
 Come good or ill, I'll not complain, 
 
 Calvin Dill Wilson. 
 
POEMS OF SUNBEAMS. 107 
 
 UPWARD. 
 
 OME, little snow-drop, struggle on through 
 dark and clinging mould ! 
 Didst hear the great sun calling thee, and bidding 
 
 thee unfold? 
 Didst feel the spring's refreshing rain, and fra- 
 grant, wooing breath, 
 Arousing thee to life and light, from out the arms 
 of death ? 
 
 Lift up thy slender, fragile stem, though strong 
 
 the fetters be. 
 The nearer to the bright warm sun, the more 
 
 He'll strengthen thee ! 
 Ope wide thy petals; welcome thou the friendly, 
 
 cheering rays. 
 And they will nestle at thy heart, to bless thy 
 
 fleeting days. 
 
 Come, earth-bound spirit, leave the depths of sin 
 and doubt and care : 
 
 The Saviour calls thee to arise, and pure, white 
 garments wear ; 
 
 From Him have come the mercy-drops and sun- 
 shine of thy past. 
 
 From Him the winning whisperings of peace and 
 heaven at last. 
 
108 POEMS OF SUNBEAMS. 
 
 Fear not to lift to Him thy prayer; strive nobly 
 
 to be free ! 
 The nearer thou dost come to Him, the more 
 
 He'll strengthen thee ; 
 A welcome give Him, and His love will circle 
 
 thee around. 
 
 And raise thee up to life and light, with heavenly 
 
 beauty crowned. 
 
 Jeanie a. B. Greenough. 
 
 SING IT MOTHER. 
 
 ING it mother — sing it low. 
 Deem it not an idle lay ; 
 In his heart 'twill ebb and flow 
 All the live-long day. 
 
 Sing it mother — softly sing, 
 
 While he slumbers on thy knee ; 
 
 All that after years may bring, 
 Shall flow back to thee. 
 
 Sing it mother — love is strong 
 When the tears of manhood fall, 
 
 Echoes of thy cradle song 
 Shall its peace recall. 
 
 Sing it mother — when his ear 
 
 Catcheth first the voice divine. 
 Dying he may smile to hear 
 
 What he deemeth thine. J. B. Tabb. 
 
THE OLD FRIENDS. 
 
 " Fond memory brings the light of other days around me." 
 
 How often memory turns to the days of "Auld 
 Lang Syne ! " 
 
 What oflfering of love can I bring to my old 
 friends of the golden da3^s of childhood and youth? — 
 sharers of my joys and sorrows. I would pluck an 
 ivy branch and twine it with "immortal blossoms" 
 as a fit emblem of friendships that can never die. 
 For is not true friendship a rare and priceless gem, 
 a holy, quiet love, knitting heart to heart, and soul 
 to soul, in joy and in sorrow, ever turning with the 
 same look of affection and glad welcome? It is 
 indeed holy, enriching, ennobling our natures in its 
 unfailing fidelity, untiring sympathy, strength and 
 blessing. It weaves threads of silver and gold into 
 our lives, ever through life, through death, and on 
 into eternity. 
 
 The dear old friends are not forgotten, and here 
 in these pages would I assure them of the warm 
 friendship unchanged from the times when no 
 shadows were on our hearts, no silver threads 
 among the locks of brown. 
 
110 THE OLD FRIENDS. 
 
 To the friends who in faith are journeying to- 
 gether toward the heavenly city and rejoicing in 
 the hope of a reunion in the "sweet by and by," 
 let me say the working and the waiting will ere long 
 be over; the clouds and shadows of the way will 
 soon be lost and forgotten in our Saviour's smile 
 at home. 
 
 To the loved friends who have not the sunbeams 
 from the "hills afar" to cheer them on life's path- 
 way or gladden their days with the blessed hope of 
 seeing the " King in His beauty," I would come in 
 earnest pleading, and lead them to the " Fountain of 
 Living Waters," where they may drink and live for- 
 ever, and into the green pastures where the Great 
 Shepherd guides, that they also may share in the 
 unutterable joy of heaven and the song of the 
 redeemed. The Great Shepherd whispers to you, 
 "Whosoever will, may come and partake of the 
 water of life freely." Oh my fri'ends, come ! come 
 ere it will be too late. 
 
 " The Spirit and the Bride say come; let him that 
 is athirst come." 
 
 Dear friends, bound by the tie of Christian faith, 
 with the precious love of Jesus thrilling our hearts, 
 with a golden cord reaching beyond the skies, up 
 through the pearly gates into the city of our God, 
 you have brought me cheer and gladness, love and 
 sympathy, through these long years of helpless 
 suffering and affliction. The Lord bless you, and 
 may the shining of His face ever rest on you, and 
 your hearts be filled with His great love, and in 
 
THE OLD FRIENDS. 
 
 Ill 
 
 that heavenly land may we meet again. Oh I the 
 glad and happy reunion on that far-off shore, where 
 our beloved dwell and rest and wait for us. There 
 the father and son, mother and daughter, and the 
 friends of youth and of age all meet again. Oh, the 
 inexpressible joy of that day! Yes, united, never 
 again to be parted, in the joy of our Father's House, 
 a joy that will be increased all the more by the 
 shadows and pains in our earthly home. There all 
 is light and song ; no more tears or clouds, but one 
 eternal day. 
 
POEMS OF OLD FRIENDS. 
 
 OLD MEMORIES. 
 
 )N the twilight of feeling, when weariness throws 
 Its gloom o'er the spirit, like blight o'er the 
 rose, 
 How sweet to unfetter life's mystical chain, 
 And live o'er the days of our childhood again; 
 How pleasant to rove to some favorite isle. 
 When Memory meets us half way with a smile. 
 And leads us adown the green valleys of joy, 
 Which time may deface, though it cannot destroy. 
 
 Then come the old memories of youth's sunny 
 
 day. 
 Like the breezes of spring o'er the blossoms of May ; 
 They freshen the heart as the cool April showers 
 Bring open the rose leaves, and moisten the 
 
 flowers. 
 Like the tones of a lute in the stillness of night, 
 Sweet voices breathe o'er us a strain of delight; 
 And we catch the soft echoes of heavenly love 
 As they steal through the starlighted chambers 
 
 above. 
 
POEMS OF OLD FRIENDS. 113 
 
 Oh, sweet is the charm that around us they fling, 
 And rich are the treasures old memories bring ! 
 We hold them more priceless than rubies that 
 
 sleep 
 In the caves of old ocean, are held by the deep. 
 The world may grow cold, and its light fade away, 
 
 Like the gold-tinted clouds of a bright summer 
 
 day — 
 And tho' o'er its changes we sigh with regret, 
 Those blessed old memories remain for us yet! 
 
 M. A. E. R. 
 
 THE DEAR OLD FACES. 
 
 1<^0D does not send strange flowers every year ; 
 J^ When the spring winds blow o'er the pleasant 
 
 places, 
 The same dear things lift up the same dear faces. 
 
 It all comes back, the odor, grace and hue ; 
 Each sweet relation of its life repeated, 
 No blank is left, no looking for is cheated ; 
 It is the thing we know. 
 
 So, after the death — winter it must be, 
 
 God will not put strange signs in the heavenly 
 
 places ; 
 The old love shall look out from the old faces. 
 
114 POEMS OF OLD FRIENDS. 
 
 FRIENDSHIP OF YOUTH. 
 
 ^HE friends of youth to us how dear, 
 No other friends on earth, 
 To us can ever seem so near, 
 
 As those where we had birth. 
 The world with its alluring charms. 
 
 Would draw the heart away, 
 And clasp within its icy arm& 
 
 Friends of an earlier da}^ 
 
 But memory pleads with ardent zeal 
 
 For friends of earlier times, 
 And thoughts of them will often steal 
 
 On us, in other climes. 
 Although the ocean's restless tide. 
 
 Between such friends may roll, 
 Yet there is love that will abide, 
 
 Locked up within each soul. 
 
 Although adversity may lower 
 
 And sorrow rend their hearts, 
 They cannot break the mighty power 
 
 That early life imparts. 
 For early love alone is pure, 
 
 Such love alone will last; 
 It binds each heart with bands secure 
 
 We ne'er from us can cast. 
 
POEMS OF OLD FRIENDS. 115 
 
 TO MY FRIEND. 
 
 THAT though the ocean lifts its barrier wide, 
 Forms it may sever but not souls divide; 
 Light as the beams of yonder dazzling ball, 
 They scorn all bonds, they overlap them all, 
 And feel when sporting on the wings of thought 
 That time and distance were but things of nought. 
 Yes friendship weeps not in tear alone, 
 And speaks not always in the" forward tone; 
 Deep in the soul she makes her love retreat; 
 Kindles her altar, erects her seat ; 
 She has a voice, but it is still and small, 
 And sympathy is ever at her call ; 
 She has a cord that binds two hearts in one. 
 Absence can't break it — it has strength unknown. 
 
 Juliette Morrella. 
 
 LONG AGO. 
 
 HEN opal tints and gray invade 
 The crimson of the west — 
 When daylight's lingering traces fade. 
 
 And song birds seek the nest — 
 When shadows fall o'er hill and plain. 
 
 And stars in heaven glow. 
 We live in memory once again 
 The days of long ago. 
 
116 POEMS OF OLD FRIENDS. 
 
 And friends of days forever o'er 
 
 Around us closely stand, 
 We feel the kindly grasp once more 
 
 Of many a "" vanished hand; " 
 And though fond, loyal, brave and true 
 
 May be the friends we know, 
 No friends can match the friends we knew 
 
 And loved long, long ago. 
 
 Though smiling fortunes on us shower 
 
 Her gifts with right good will — 
 Though every passing day and hour 
 
 Be filled with sunshine still — 
 Though joys and pleasures deep abound 
 
 Upon the way we go, 
 We sigh and dream o'er joys we found 
 
 In days of long ago. 
 
 And though we form new friends, new ties, 
 
 New joys, new pleasures try. 
 And though new hopes like phantoms rise 
 
 As in the days gone by. 
 When comes the holy calm of eve 
 
 Our tears unbidden flow; 
 We love, we hope, we plan and grieve 
 
 Again in Long Ago. 
 
POEMS OF LONG AGO. 
 
 BETWEEN THE LIGHTS. 
 
 ^pZ LITTLE pause in life, while daylight lingers 
 cj g>. Between the sunset and the pale moonrise, 
 When daily labor slips from weary fingers, 
 And soft gray shadows veil the aching eyes. 
 
 Old perfumes wander back from fields of clover, 
 Seen in the light of suns that long have set ; . 
 
 Beloved ones, whose earthly toil is over, 
 Draw near, as if they loved us yet. 
 
 Old voices call me, through the dusk returning ; 
 
 I hear the echoes of departed feet ; 
 And then I ask, with vain and troubled yearning, 
 
 What is the charm that makes old things so 
 sweet? 
 
118 POEMS OF LONG AGO. 
 
 Must the old joys be evermore withholden ? 
 
 Even their memory keeps me pure and true ; 
 And yet, from out Jerusalem the Golden 
 
 God speaketh, saying, " I make all things new." 
 
 ^' Father," I cry, " the old must still be nearer. 
 
 Stifle my love, or give me back the past ! 
 Give me back the fair old earth, whose paths are 
 dearer 
 Than all Thy shining streets and mansions 
 vast." 
 
 Peace, peace ! the Lord of earth and heaven know- 
 eth 
 
 The human soul in all its heat and strife; 
 Out of His throne no stream of Lethe floweth, 
 
 But the clear river of eternal life. 
 
 He giveth life, aye, life in all its sweetness ; 
 
 Old loves, old sunny scenes will He restore; 
 Only the curse of sin and incompleteness 
 
 Shall taint thine earth, and vex thine heart no 
 more. 
 
 Serve Him in daily work and earnest living. 
 And faith shall lift thee to His sunlit heights ; 
 
 Then shall a psalm of gladness and thanksgiving 
 
 Fill the calm hour that comes between the 
 
 lights. 
 
 Sarah Doudney. 
 
POEMS OF LONG AGO. 119 
 
 DAYS GONE BY. 
 
 'HOUGH we change to-day with fleetness, 
 
 Though we dread to-morrow's sky, 
 There's a melancholy sweetness 
 In the name of days gone by. 
 
 Yes, though time has laid his finger 
 On them, still with streaming eye. 
 
 There are spots where I can linger, 
 Sacred to the days gone by. 
 
 Oft a memory's glance is ranging 
 
 Over scenes that cannot die ; 
 Then I feel that all is changing ; 
 
 Then I weep the days gone by. 
 
 Sorrowful should I be, and lonely, 
 
 Were not all the same as I, 
 'Tis for all, not my lot only. 
 
 To lament the days gone by. 
 
 Cease, fond heart ; to thee are given 
 Hopes of better things on high, 
 
 There is still a coming heaven 
 Brighter than the days gone by. 
 
 Faith lifts off the sable curtain 
 
 Hiding huge Eternity, 
 Hope accounts the prize as certain, 
 
 And forgets the days gone by. 
 
12 POEMS OF LONG AGO. 
 
 Love, in grateful adoration, 
 
 Bids distrust and sorrow fly, 
 And with glad anticipation 
 
 Calms regret for days gone by. 
 
 M. F. TuppER. 
 
 THE LAND THAT IS VERY FAR OFF. 
 
 PON the shore of Evermore, 
 We stand like children at their play, 
 And gather shells, 
 Where sinks and swells 
 The mighty sea from far away. 
 
 Upon that beach, nor voice nor speech 
 Doth things intelligible say, 
 
 But o'er our souls 
 
 A whisper rolls 
 That comes to us from far away. 
 
 Into our ears the voice of years 
 Comes deeper, deeper, day by day ; 
 
 We stoop to hear, 
 
 As it draws near, 
 Its awfulness from far away. 
 
POEMS OF LONG AGO. 121 
 
 And o'er that tide, far out and wide, 
 The longings of our souls do stray ; 
 
 We long to go, 
 
 We do not know 
 Where it may be — but far away. 
 
 We'll trust the wave, and Him to save, 
 Beneath whose feet as marble lay 
 
 The rolling deep ; 
 
 For He can keep 
 Our souls, in that dim Far-away. 
 
 8 
 
POEMS OF MEMORIES. 
 
 MOTHER'S HYMNS. 
 
 USHED are those lips, their earthly song is 
 ended ; 
 The singer sleeps at last ; 
 
 While I sit gazing at her arm chair vacant, 
 And think of days long past. 
 
 The room still echoes with the old-time music, 
 
 As singing soft and low 
 Those grand, sweet hymns, the Christian's con- 
 solation. 
 
 She rocks her to and fro. 
 
 Some that can stir the heart like shouts of tri- 
 umph 
 
 Or loud-toned trumpets call. 
 Bidding the people prostrate fall before Him, 
 
 " And crown him — Lord of all." 
 
POEMS OF MEMORIES. 123 
 
 And tender notes, filled with melodious rapture, 
 
 That leaned upon his word. 
 Rose in those strains of solemn, deep affection, 
 
 "I love Thy Kingdom Lord." 
 
 Safe hidden in the wondrous " Rock of Ages," 
 
 She bade farewell to fear ; 
 Sure that her Lord would always gentlj" lead her, 
 
 " She read her title clear." 
 
 Joyful she saw '' From Greenland's Icy Moun- 
 tains" 
 The Gospel Flag unfurled ; 
 And knew by faith " The morning light is break- 
 ing" 
 Over a sinful world. 
 
 " There is a fountain," how the tones triumphant 
 
 Rose in victorious strains ! 
 Filled with that precious blood, for all the ran- 
 somed, 
 
 " Drawn from Immanuel's veins." 
 
 Dear saint, in Heavenly mansions long since 
 folded, ■ 
 
 Safe in God's fostering love, 
 She joins with rapture in the blissful chorus 
 
 Of those bright choirs above. 
 
 There, where no tears are known, no pain, nor 
 sorrow. 
 
 Safe beyond Jordan's roll. 
 She lives forever with her blessed Jesus, 
 
 " The lover of her soul." 
 
124 POEMS OF MEMOBIES. 
 
 MY CHILDHOOD HOME. 
 
 'HERE'S a little low hut by the river's side, 
 Within the sound of its rippling tide ; 
 Its walls are grey with the mosses of years, 
 And its roof all crumbled and old appears; 
 But fairer to me than castles pride, 
 Is the little low hut by the river's side. 
 
 The little low hut was my natal nest 
 
 Where my childhood passed life's spring time 
 
 blest ; 
 Where the hopes of ardent youth are formed, 
 And the sun of promise my young heart warmed^ 
 Ere I threw myself on life's swift tide. 
 And left the dear hut by the river's side. 
 
 That little low hut in lowly guise, 
 Was soft and grand to my youthful eyes, 
 And fairer trees were ne'er known before, 
 Than the apple trees by the humble door. 
 That my father loved for their thrifty pride. 
 That shadowed the hut by the river's side. 
 
 That little low hut had a glad hearth stone, 
 That echoed of old with a pleasant tone; 
 And brothers and sisters a merry crew. 
 Filled the house with pleasure as on they flew ; 
 But one by one the loved ones died, 
 That dwelt in the hut by the river's side. 
 
POEMS OF MEMORIES. 125 
 
 The father revered and the children gay 
 
 The graves of the world have called away ; 
 
 But quietly all alone here sits 
 
 By the pleasant window, in summer, and knits, 
 
 An aged woman, long years allied 
 
 With the little low hut by the river's side. 
 
 That little low hut to the lonely wife 
 Is the cherished stage of her action life ; 
 Each scene is recalled in memories beam, 
 As she sits by the window in pensive dream, 
 And joys and woes roll back like a tide. 
 In that little low hut by the river's side. 
 
 My mother alone by the river's side, 
 
 She waits for the flood of the Heavenly tide. 
 
 And the voice that shall thrill her heart with its 
 
 call 
 To meet once more with the dear ones all, 
 And forms in a region beautified, 
 The bands that once met by the river's side. 
 
 The dear old hut by the river's side 
 
 With the warmest pulse of my heart is allied; 
 
 And a glory is o'er its dark walls thrown, 
 
 That statelier fabrics have never known, 
 
 And I shall love with a fonder pride, 
 
 That little low hut by the river's side. 
 
 B. P. Shillaber. 
 
POEMS OF FRIENDS WITHOUT 
 CHRIST. 
 
 ''AWAKE, THOU THAT SLEEPEST." 
 
 ^^ffitWAKE from the sleep of sorrow, 
 ^^ Awake from the world's dull night, 
 For "joy shall come in the morning," 
 And " faith shall be lost in sight." 
 Awake, awake, oh sleeper. 
 And Christ shall give thee light. 
 
 Awake from suggestions of doubt ; 
 Awake from despair's black night; 
 Let hope be thy soul's firm anchor, 
 And faith in thy heart burn bright. 
 Awake, awake, oh sleeper. 
 And Christ shall give thee light. 
 
 Awake from the sleep of sin, 
 Awake in the Spirit's might, 
 From selfishness, sloth and pride. 
 To God's eternal sight. 
 
 Awake, awake, oh sleeper. 
 And Christ shall give thee light. 
 
PQ-EMS OF FRIENDS WITHOUT CHRIST. 127 
 
 Awake, for the " Day is at hand," 
 And the shadows are taking flight ; 
 Already the dawn is springing, 
 " Far spent " is our earthly night, 
 Awake, awake, oh sleeper, 
 And Christ shall give thee light. 
 
 Awake, for the bridegroom cometh. 
 Oh, rapture of great delight. 
 When God's eternal cloudless Day 
 Shall end this world's dark night. 
 Awake, awake, oh sleeper, 
 For Christ shall give thee light. 
 
 THE GARDEN OF GOD. 
 
 ^HRIST in His heavenly garden walks all day, 
 And calls to souls upon the world's highway ; 
 ^Wearied with trifles, maimed and sick with sin, 
 Christ by the gate stands, and invites them in. 
 
 "How long, unwise, will ye pursue your woe? 
 Here from the throne sweet waters ever go ; 
 Here the white lilies shine like stars above , 
 Here in the red rose burns the face of Love. 
 
128 POEMS OF FRIENDS WITHOUT CHRIST. 
 
 '•'■ 'Tis not from earthly paths I bid you flee, 
 But lighter in my ways your feet will be ; 
 'Tis not to summon you from h\iman mirth, 
 But add a depth and sweetness not of earth. 
 
 " Still by the gate I stand, as on ye stray ; 
 Turn your steps hither ; am I not the way ? 
 The sun is falling fast, the night is nigh ; 
 Why will ye wander? Wherefore will ye die? 
 
 " Look on my hands and side, for I am He; 
 None to the Father cometh but by me ; 
 For you I died, and more — I call you home ; 
 I live again for you ! My children, come! " 
 
 Francis T. Palgrave. 
 
POEMS OF REUNION. 
 
 ALL'S WELL. 
 seas again shall sever ; 
 
 * 
 
 No desert intervene; 
 No deep and flowing river 
 Shall roll its tide between. 
 
 No bleak cliffs upward towering 
 Shall bound our eager sight ; 
 
 No tempest darkly lowering 
 Shall wrap us in its night. 
 
 Lo, an unsevered union 
 Of soul with those we love, 
 
 Nearness and glad communion 
 Shall be our joy above. 
 
 No dread of wasting sickness, 
 No thought of ache or pain. 
 
 No fretting hours of weakness. 
 Shall mar our frame again. 
 
 BONAR. 
 
130 POEMS OF REUNION. 
 
 REJOICE. 
 
 EJOICE, rejoice, believer! 
 The conflict is not long ; 
 To-day we fight the battle, 
 
 To-morrow sing the song. 
 To-day we strive in sorrow 
 
 The promised land to gain ; 
 We reach the goal to-morrow, 
 Forever free from pain. 
 
 To-day we part in sadness, 
 
 From loved ones gone before, 
 To-morrow meet in gladness 
 
 To part, oh ! nevermore ! 
 To-day we bear in silence 
 
 The bufifetings and scorn. 
 To-morrow hail with triumph 
 
 The resurrection morn. 
 
 Then cheer thee Christian soldier 
 
 Though hard the battle press. 
 Thy Saviour's ever near thee 
 
 To cheer, direct and bless. 
 To-day we toil in sadness. 
 
 Nor may the conflict cease, 
 To-morrow rest in gladness, 
 
 Where all is perfect peace. 
 
POEMS OF REUNION. 131 
 
 Rejoice, rejoice, believer! 
 
 The conflict is not long; 
 To-day we fight the battle, 
 
 To-raorrow sing the song. 
 To-day we strive in sorrow 
 
 The promised land to gain ; 
 We reach the goal to-morrow, 
 
 Forever free from pain. 
 
 Anna Holyoke Howard. 
 
 GOOD-BYE. 
 
 (Jl^OOD-BYE, good-bye, it is the sweetest blessing 
 ?:(^ That falls from mortal lips on mortal ear, 
 The weakness of our human love confessing 
 The promise that a love more strong is near. 
 May God be with you. 
 
 Wh)^ do we sa}^ it when the tears are starting? 
 
 Why must a word so sweet bring only pain? 
 Our love seem all-sufficient 'till the parting. 
 
 And then we feel it impotent and vain. 
 May God be with you. 
 
132 ' POEMS OF REUNION. 
 
 Oh, may he guide, and bless, and keep you ever, 
 He 'who is strong to battle with your foes, 
 
 Whoever fails, His love can fail you never. 
 And all you need He in His wisdom knows. 
 May God be with you. 
 
 Better than earthly presence e'en the dearest 
 
 Is the great blessing that our partings bring. 
 
 If God be with us. 
 
 Good-bye, good-bj^e, with latest breath we say it, 
 A legacy of hope, and faith, and love; 
 
 Parting must come, we cannot long delay it. 
 
 But one in Him we hope to meet again 
 
 If God be with us. 
 
 Good-bj'^e, 'tis all we have for one another; 
 
 Our love, more strong than death, is helpless still, 
 For none can take the burden from his brother, 
 
 Or shield except by prayer from an}^ ill. 
 May God be with you. 
 
 THE FUTURE LIFE. 
 
 OW shall I know thee in the sphere that keepg 
 t^ The disembodied spirits of the dead, 
 When all of thee that time could wither sleeps 
 And perish among the dust we tread? 
 
POEMS OF REUNIOX. 133 
 
 For I shall feel the sting of ceaseless pain 
 If there I meet thy gentle presence not ; 
 
 Nor hear the voice I love nor read again 
 In thy serenest eyes the tender thought. 
 
 Will not thy own meek heart demand me then, 
 That heart whose fondest throbs to me were 
 given, 
 
 My name on earth was ever in the prayer, 
 
 Shall it be banished from thy tongue in heaven ? 
 
 In meadows fanned by heaven's life breathing 
 wind, 
 
 In the resplendence of that glorious sphere. 
 And larger movements of the unfitted mind. 
 
 Wilt thou forget the love that joined us here? 
 
 A happier lot than mine and larger light 
 
 Await thee there, for thou hast bowed thy will 
 
 In cheerful homage to the rule of right. 
 And lovest all and undoest good for ill. 
 
 For me the sordid cares in which I dwell 
 
 Shrunk and consume my heart as heat the scroll, 
 
 And wrath has left its scar, that fire of hell 
 Has left its frightful scar upon my soul. 
 
 Yet though thou wear'st the glory of the sk}^. 
 Wilt thou not keep the same beloved name ; 
 
 The same fair, thoughtful brow and gentle eye, 
 Lovelier in heaven's sweet climate yet the same? 
 
134 POEMS OF REUNION. 
 
 Shalt thou not teach me in that calmer home, 
 The wisdom that I learned so ill in this; 
 
 The wisdom which is love, 'till I became 
 Thy fit companion in the world of bliss ? 
 
 Bryant. 
 
 By consent of D. Appleton & Co. 
 
 THE PLEASURES OF HEAVEN. 
 
 ERE all the happy souls that ever were, 
 ^ Shall meet with pleasure in one theatre; 
 And each shall know there one another's face, 
 By beatific virtue of the place. 
 There shall the brother with the sister walk, 
 And sons and daughters with their parents talk; 
 But all of God, they still shall have to say, 
 But make Him all in all their theme that day. 
 That happy day that never shall see night; 
 Where He will be all beauty to the sight, 
 Wine or delicious fruits unto the taste, 
 A music in the ears will ever last; 
 Unto the scent, a spray or balm; 
 And to the touch a flower, like soft as palm. 
 He will all glory, all perfection be, 
 God in the Union and the Trinity ! 
 
POEMS OF REUNION. 135 
 
 That holy, great and glorious mystery, 
 Will there revealed be in majesty. 
 By light and comfort of spiritual grace; 
 The vision of our Saviour face to face, 
 In his humanity! to hear him preach 
 The price of our redemption, and to teach, 
 Through his inherent righteousness in death, 
 The safety of our souls and forfeid breath ! 
 What fullness of beatitude is here! 
 What love, with mercy mixed, doth appear! 
 To style us friends, who were by nature foes ! 
 Adopt us heirs by grace, who were of those 
 Had lost ourselves, and prodigally spent 
 Our native portions and possessed rent! 
 Yet have all debts forgiven us, an advance 
 By imputed right to an inheritance 
 In his eternal kingdom, where we sit. 
 Equal with heirs and co-heirs of it. 
 
 Ben Jonson. 
 
POEMS OF "SHUT-IN" BAND. 
 
 " And surel}^ in a life like this, 
 So ripe with woe, so scant of bliss, 
 'Tis something that we kneel, and pray, 
 With loved ones near and far away." 
 
 Dear ^^ Shut-in" Sistei^s and Daughters of the King: 
 
 In true sympathy my heart goes out to you. 
 In these leaves may you find some rays of sunshine. 
 May our hearts be drawn heavenward, joined by 
 this sacred " band," its golden links uniting many, 
 fastened closer by the jeweled clasp of love. Some 
 to work and some to suffer; hand and heart aiding 
 each other; being made fit for the Master's use. 
 
 To 3"ou, dear suffering ones, I write cheerfully, 
 hopefully : 
 
 What woman's heart can forget the happy days 
 of girlhood, linked with sweet memories of home 
 and loved ones! 
 
 These pictures upon memory's wall, how vividly 
 they bring back to us faces and voices gone ; all 
 
POEMS OF "SHUT-IN" BAND. 137 
 
 that we have lost in the past and all that we must 
 forego in the future ! Does not the loneliness of 
 our path of suffering make part of its bitterness? 
 Why this shadow in our lives? Why this heavy 
 cross our Heavenly Father knoweth now, and we 
 shall know hereafter. In golden letters let us write 
 upon our door-post : 
 
 " It is the Father's good pleasure." "Whom the 
 Lord loveth he chasteneth." " We have no tears 
 thou wilt not dry. We have no wounds Thou wilt 
 not heal. No sorrows pierce our human hearts, 
 that Thou, dear Saviour, dost not cure." Let us 
 remember, "' Lo this is our God; we have waited 
 for Him ; we will be glad and rejoice." The Lord 
 has comforted His people ; He will have mercy 
 upon His afflicted ; even by springs of water shall 
 He guide them. More tenderly than any earthly 
 love does He whisper: ''I am thy beloved, and I 
 am thy friend." "I have loved thee with an ever- 
 lasting love." " I have graven thee upon the palms 
 of my hands." " I will betroth thee unto me for- 
 ever." He will be our comforter, and strength; 
 He will give us patience and submission to bear, to 
 wait, to suffer, and be strong. May our trials be as 
 flowers blooming in beauty and fragrance about 
 the foot of the cross, ever brightened by the rays 
 of the Sun of Righteousness; although planted in 
 sorrow, and watered by tears, in Heaven they will 
 bloom in immortal beauty. May we endure the 
 cross that we may wear the crown. It is promised 
 that they who sow in tears shall reap in joy. May 
 9 
 
138 POEMS OF ''SHUT-IN'' BAND. 
 
 the loving Saviour be our refuge, bear our burdens, 
 and rest our weary hearts. The little while will 
 soon be over; then how shall we rejoice at the com- 
 ing of His feet ; and when we reach the other shore, 
 all the pains and sorrows of this life will be forever 
 forgotten in the welcome home. Let us look away 
 from the shadows of this present life, into the 
 glorious sunshine of that eternal morning, when we 
 shall meet forever our beloved ones. We seem to 
 hear their happy voices sometimes now, from out 
 the "Jasper walls" singing the song of the Re- 
 deemed. In that blessed home we shall meet them, 
 we shall know them, and be with them evermore. 
 We shall see then all that is hidden from us now, 
 and we shall plainly read in our bitter crosses and 
 trials, here, the tenderest touches of our loving 
 Father's hand. No night there ; no wandering. 
 All will be plain and clear. We shall know, as we 
 are known ; and our voices no longer feeble with 
 pain, and faint with suffering, will swell the glorious 
 chorus : 
 
 " Praise ! Praise ! Ye the Lord.'' 
 
 '"Tis but a little while, 
 
 Jesus hath said. 
 This shall my way beguile, 
 
 And gladness shed. 
 Then Thou Thyself will come, 
 
 Jesus to take me home ; 
 So let it be!" 
 
POEMS OF ''SHVT-IN'' BAND. 139 
 
 "IN HIS NAME." 
 
 c^ft^ONS and daughters of the King, 
 
 ^^ Joyful let us rise and sing; 
 
 *Song and psalm with loud acclaim, 
 
 While we worship " In His Name." 
 In a covenant of grace, 
 
 While He lifts His smiling face, 
 
 With a love that knows no shame. 
 
 Let us gather " In His Name." 
 
 Heart and hand for word and deed, 
 Wheresoever human need. 
 Thro' whatever praise or blame, 
 Bear your message, " In His Name 
 Children of the ro3''al line. 
 Yours to speak the word divine; 
 Yours to lift the beacon flame 
 To the nations, " In His Name." 
 
 )? 
 
 Rise, encircled in His might. 
 Swift of foot and strong for right; 
 He, forevermore the same, 
 Will be with you, " In His Name." 
 Peace He gives you, peace He leaves, 
 Scatter, then, the golden sheaves 
 Freely, as to you He came — 
 Freely scatter, " In His Name." 
 
140 POEMS OF ''SHlT-IN'' BAND. 
 
 STRENGTH IN WEAKNESS. 
 
 '00 weak to think, Lord, 
 Too weak to pray, 
 Too weak for song of praise ; 
 
 Yet still I say. 
 Now draw Thou near. Lord ; 
 Banish all fear, Lord ; 
 Let me in quiet hear 
 
 Thy voice to-day. 
 
 I would not ask. Lord, 
 
 What shall befall ; 
 Only the loving past. 
 
 Silent recall ; 
 Jesus the lost one sought, 
 Jesus my soul hath bought ; 
 This calms each troubled thought. 
 
 This answers all. 
 
 Therefore I leave to Thee 
 
 What shall betide ; 
 One word enough for me — 
 
 •Jesus hath died. 
 He for His weak one pleads, 
 He on to glory leads. 
 He knows my cares, my nee'ds, 
 
 He will provide. 
 
POEM^ OF '' SHUT-IN '' BAND. 141 
 
 Too weak to think, Lord, 
 
 Too weak to pray ; 
 Yet from my heart of hearts 
 
 Silent I say : 
 "Do Thou Thy will, Lord; 
 Keep Thou me still. Lord ; 
 
 With peace to-da}^" 
 
 SHUT IN. 
 
 I watch and am as a sparrow alone upon the housetop." Psa. 102: 7. 
 And yet I am not alone, because the Father is with me." John 16 : 32, 
 
 ^^.fl^HUT in, shut in, from the ceaseless din 
 v^ Of the restless world, and its want and sin ; 
 Shut in from its turmoil, care and strife, 
 And all the wearisome round of life. 
 
 Shut in with tears that are spent in vain, 
 With the dull companionship of pain; 
 Shut in with the changeless days and hours. 
 And the bitter knowledge of failing powers. 
 
 Shut in with dreams of days gone by, 
 With buried hopes that were born to die; 
 Shut in with the hopes that have lost their zest, 
 And leave but a longing after rest. 
 
142 POEMS OF ''SHUT-IN'' BAND. 
 
 Shut in with a trio of angels sweet, 
 Patience and grace all pain to meet, 
 With faith that can suffer, and stand and wait, 
 And lean on the promises strong and great ! 
 
 Shut in with Christ! Oh, wonderful thought! 
 Shut in with the peace His sufferings brought ; 
 Shut in with the love that wields the rod; 
 Oh, company blest! Shut in with God! 
 
 wjH ask not, hope thou not too much, 
 j^ Of sympathy below. 
 Few are the hearts whence the same touch 
 
 Bids the same fountain flow. 
 Few, and b}^ still conflicting powers, 
 
 Forbidden here to meet. 
 Such ties would make this life of ours 
 
 Too fair for ought so fleet. 
 
POEMS OF COURAGE. 
 
 COURAGE. 
 
 'ECAUSE I hold it sinful to despond, 
 QMo And will not let the bitterness of life 
 Blind me with burning tears, but look beyond 
 Its tumult and its strife; 
 
 Because I lift myself above the mist, 
 
 Where the sun shines and the brave breezes 
 blow. 
 
 By every ray and every raindrop kissed, 
 That God's love doth bestow, — 
 
 Think you I find no bitterness at all, 
 
 No burden to be borne like Christian's pack? 
 
 Think you there are no ready tears to fall. 
 Because I keep them back? 
 
144 POEMS OF COURAGE. 
 
 Why should I hug life's ills with cold reserve, 
 To curse myself to all who love me ? Nay ; 
 
 A thousand times more good than I deserve 
 God shows me every day ! 
 
 And in each one of these rebellious tears, 
 
 Kept bravely back, He makes a rainbow shine: 
 
 Grateful, I take His slightest gifts, no fears 
 Nor any doubts of mine. 
 
 Dark skies must clear, and when the clouds are 
 past, 
 
 One golden day redeems a weary year; 
 Patient I listen, sure that sweet at last 
 
 Will sound His voice of cheer. 
 
 Then vex me not with chiding; let me be; 
 
 I must be glad and grateful to the end ; 
 I grudge you not your cold and darkness ; me 
 
 The powers of light befriend. 
 
 GOD KNOWS. 
 
 
 (^^OD knows, not I, the devious way 
 ^^ Wherein my faltering feet must tread. 
 Before, into the light of day 
 My steps from out this gloom are led; 
 And since my Lord the path doth see. 
 What matters if 'tis hid from me? 
 
POEMS OF COURAGE. 
 
 145 
 
 God knows, not I, how sw^eet accord 
 
 Shall grow, at length from out this clash 
 
 Of earthly discords, which have jarred 
 On soul and sense; I hear the crash, 
 
 Yet feel and know that on His ear 
 
 Breaks harmony, full, deep and clear. 
 
 God knows, not I, when I'd fain 
 
 Have walked in pastures green and fair. 
 
 The path He pointed me hath lain 
 Through rocky deserts, bleak and bare. 
 
 I blindly trust, since 'tis His will; 
 
 This way lies safety, that way ill. 
 
 His perfect plan I cannot grasp; 
 
 Yet I can trust Love Infinite, 
 And with my feeble fingers clasp 
 
 The Hand that leads me to the light, 
 My soul upon this errand goes; 
 The end I know not, but God -knows. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
POEMS OF TRUST. 
 
 COMFORT. 
 
 :HE clouds hang heavy 'round my way, 
 
 I cannot see, 
 But through the darkness I believe 
 
 God leadeth me ; 
 'Tis sweet to keep my hand in His 
 
 While all is dim ; 
 To close my weary aching eyes 
 
 And follow Him ; 
 Through many a thorny path he leads 
 
 My tired feet ; 
 Through many a path of tears I go, 
 
 But it is sweet 
 To know that he is close to me, 
 
 My God and guide ; 
 He leadeth me, and so I walk. 
 
 Quite satisfied; 
 To my blind eyes he may reveal 
 
 No light at all, 
 But while I lean on his strong arm 
 
 I cannot fall. 
 
 From " The Open Window J* 
 
POEMS OF TRUST. 147 
 
 HYMN. 
 
 :AKE the praise we bring Thee, Lord, 
 Something more than what we speak, 
 For the love within us feels 
 Words uncertain, cold, and weak. 
 Thoughts that rise, and tears that fall. 
 Praise Thee better; take them all! 
 
 Looking back the way we've come. 
 What a sight, Lord, we see; 
 All the failure in ourselves, 
 All the love and strength to Thee, 
 Yet it seemed so dark before; 
 Would that w^e had trusted more! 
 
 Use us for Thy glory. Lord, 
 In the way that seemeth right. 
 Whether but to wait and watch, 
 Or to gird our limbs and fight; 
 Marching on, our standing still, 
 Each is best when 'tis Thy will 
 
 When at last the end shall come. 
 What, O Lord, is death but this — 
 Door of our dear Father's home. 
 Entrance into perfect bliss. 
 Peril past and labor done. 
 Sorrow over, peace begun! 
 
POEMS OF PEACE. 
 
 IN PERFECT PEACE. 
 
 IKE strains of music soft and low, 
 >^ That break upon a troubled sleep; 
 I hear the promise old and new, 
 God will his faithful children keep 
 " In perfect peace." 
 
 It stills the questionings and doubts. 
 The nameless fears that throng the soul; 
 
 It speaks of love unchanging, sure, 
 And evermore its echoes roll 
 "In perfect peace." 
 
 "In perfect peace," loving Christ ! 
 
 When falls death's twilight gray and cold. 
 And flowers of earth shall droop and fade, 
 
 Keep thou thy children as of old 
 "In perfect peace." 
 
POEMS OF PEACE. 149 
 
 PEACE. 
 
 ^H, this is blessing, this is rest! 
 
 Into thine arms, Lord, I flee! 
 I hide me in Thy faithful breast, 
 
 And pour out all my soul to Thee. 
 There is a host dissuading me; 
 
 But all their voices far above 
 I hear Thy words : "Taste and see 
 
 The comfort of a Saviour's love!" 
 And hushing every adverse sound. 
 
 As if all saints encamped about 
 One trusting heart pursued b}- doubt; 
 
 And oh, how solemn, yet how sweet, 
 Their one assured persuasive strain ! 
 
 " The Lord of Hosts is thy retreat. 
 The man who bore thy sin, thy pain, 
 
 Still in His hand thy times remain, 
 Still of his body thou art part, 
 
 And he will prove His right to reign 
 O'er all things that concern thy heart." 
 
 tenderness ! truth divine ! 
 Lord, I am altogether thine, 
 
 1 have bowed down ; I need not flee; 
 Peace; peace is mine in trusting Thee. 
 
POEMS OF REST. 
 
 TRUST AND REST. 
 
 D hpRET not, poor heart! The sorrows sore, 
 J^^ That crush thy life, thy Saviour bore, 
 Once for thy sake; yea, this and more, 
 God's way is best. 
 Then trust and rest. 
 
 Though thy hot head with throbbing pain 
 Seek for a resting place in vain, 
 While blinding tears fall like rain. 
 Peace, heart; be still, 
 Bow to God's will. 
 
 Though torturing pain thy spirit fills. 
 And every nerve in anguish thrills, 
 R,eceive in patience what He wills, 
 He sends no pain 
 But for thy gain. 
 
POEMS OF BEST. 151 
 
 REST. 
 
 ^'■^ EST is not quitting 
 
 The busy career, 
 Rest is the fitting 
 
 Of self to one's sphere. 
 
 'Tis the brook's motion, 
 
 Clear, without strife. 
 Fleeting to ocean, 
 
 After this life. 
 
 'Tis loving and serving, 
 
 The highest and best; 
 'Tis onward unswerving, 
 
 And this is true rest. Gcethe 
 
 BEYOND THE LAND. 
 
 ;EYOND the land, 
 Beyond the sea, 
 There shall be rest for thee and me, 
 For thee and me and those we love, 
 I heard a promise gently fall, 
 I heard a far-off gentle call. 
 The weary and the broken-hearted, 
 Promising rest unto each and all. 
 
 JOSIAH CONDER. 
 
POEMS OF NATURE. 
 
 A SPRING SONG. 
 
 SPRING-TIME sweet!' 
 'hp Over the hills come th}^ lovely feet. 
 The earth's white mantle is cast away, 
 She clothes herself all in green to-day ; 
 And the little flowers that hid from the cold 
 Are springing anew from the warm, fresh mould. 
 
 Spring-time sweet ! 
 The whole earth smiles thy coming to greet ; 
 Our hearts to their inmost depths are stirred 
 By the first spring flower and the song of the bird; 
 Our sweet, strange feelings no room can find, 
 They wander like dreams through heart and mind. 
 
 O Spring-time sweet! 
 With silent hope thy coming I greet ; 
 For all that in winter the bright earth lost 
 Doth rise, new-born, with the ending of frost; 
 Even so shall thou bring me — at last, at last! 
 All the hope and the joy and the love of the past. 
 
 Tr. by J. F. Clarke. 
 
POEMS OF NATURE. 153 
 
 SINGING AT SUNSET. 
 
 ID you hear it at the sunset? 
 Happy, happy thrush ! 
 Caroling and trilling 
 
 Through the evening hush. 
 Singing at the sunset, 
 
 Singing, singing sweet, 
 Where the shadows and the splendor 
 
 Softly, softly meet ; 
 Pouring out the full notes. 
 
 Ringing, ringing loud, 
 When the gold is on the beeches 
 
 And the crimson on the cloud ! 
 ' Singing at the sunset! 
 
 Happy, happy song. 
 
 Shall we listen in the sunset, 
 
 Listen, listen long. 
 Silent for the glory, 
 
 Silent for the song. 
 Singing at the sunset, 
 
 Angel voices hear. 
 And the harpings of the harpers 
 
 Ringing, ringing clear; 
 Nearing all the gladness. 
 
 Leaving all the gloom. 
 When the light is on the river 
 
 And the glory on the tomb ! 
 Singing at the sunset, 
 
 Happy, happy song. 
 10 
 
154 POEMS OF NATURE. 
 
 HEAVEN AND EARTH. 
 
 fffifcSK the bird that soars on high, 
 ci(^ Midway 'tween the earth and sky, 
 What he sees when he is there, 
 Of the world's receding sphere. 
 
 He could teach, if he might say, 
 Heavenward as he bends his way. 
 How the wide world lessens fast, 
 In the growing distance lost. 
 
 Lesser objects lost to view, 
 Great ones are but little now ; 
 All that once were bright and fair, 
 Lose their tints and disappear. 
 
 Doubt you then, why they who rise 
 Near and nearer to the skies, 
 See on earth's diminished sphere 
 Little that is worth their care. 
 
 They whose bosoms once could joy 
 In the vain world's vainest toj^, 
 They whose hearts could sometimes feel 
 E'en the slightest touch of ill, 
 
 From the world by sorrow riven, 
 Gone already half to heaven, 
 Look with calmness on a scene 
 Scarcely now within their ken. 
 
POEMS OF NATURE. 155 
 
 Deem not that the heart is cliilled, 
 Which, though once with anguish fill'd, 
 Such emotions all forgot, 
 Smiles and says, "It matters not." 
 
 SPRING-TIME. 
 
 PRING-TIME and blossom-time, 
 Fair and sunny weather, 
 Skies of blue and laughing rills 
 Smile on us together. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Ring, ring, merrily ring, 
 
 Bells of the spring, the happy spring. 
 
 Waken the flowers and tell the hours 
 
 For the nesting birds and the gleaming showers. 
 
 Spring-time and wonder time 
 
 Cunning secrets telling; 
 Gnomes are toiling at the roots 
 
 While the buds are swelling. 
 
 Spring-time and giving time 
 
 Lavishly bestowing, 
 God the Father watches still 
 
 How this world is growing. 
 
156 POEMS OF NATURE. 
 
 THE PRESENT EVIL WORLD. 
 
 'HTE stream was deeper than I thought, 
 When first I ventured near ; 
 I stood upon its sloping edge 
 Without a rising fear. 
 
 It woke in ripples at my feet 
 As the swift breeze swept by. 
 
 And caught the sunlight on its face 
 Like blossoms from the sky. 
 
 It sung its quiet May-day song 
 
 To its old summer tune ; 
 And the light willow boughs above 
 
 Shook to the glowing noon : 
 
 It seemed to stop, then eddied on; 
 
 It smiled up to the day ; 
 It deepened, then spread out its waves, 
 
 And stole in light away. 
 
 streams of earthly love and joy. 
 On whose green banks we dwell, 
 
 Gleaming in beauty to the eye, 
 Ye promise fair and well ! 
 
 Ye charm the sunbeams from the air, 
 «The fragrance from the flowers, 
 The blossoms from the budding tree, 
 The wealth of summer hours. 
 
POEMS OF NATURE. 157 
 
 Ye bid us come and take them all 
 
 From your enchanted blue; 
 Ye tell us but to stoop and taste 
 
 The joy, and scent, and hue. 
 
 Ye lure us and we venture in. 
 
 Cheated by sun and smiles; 
 Ye tempt us, and we brave your depths. 
 
 Now by your winning wiles. 
 
 Too deep and strong for us ! we glide 
 
 Down your deceiving wave 
 Like men by siren song beguiled 
 
 On to a siren grave. 
 
 O world, with all thy smiles and loves, 
 
 With all thy song and wine. 
 What mockery of human hearts, 
 
 What treachery is thine ! 
 
 Thou woundest, but thou canst not heal; 
 
 Thy words are warbled lies; 
 Thy hand contains the poisoned cup. 
 
 And he who drinks it dies. 
 
 UNDER THE LEAVES. 
 
 |FT have I walked these woodland paths, 
 0^ Without the blest foreknowing 
 That underneath the withered leaves 
 The fairest buds were growing. 
 
158 POEMb OF NATURE. 
 
 To-day the south wind sweeps away 
 The types of Autumn's splendor, 
 
 And shows the sweet Arbutus flowers — 
 Spring's children pure and tender. 
 
 Oh prophet souls, with lips of bloom, 
 
 Outvying in their beauty 
 The pearly tints of ocean shells; 
 
 Ye teach me faith and duty. 
 
 Walk life's dark ways, ye seem to say. 
 With Love's divine foreknowing. 
 
 That where man sees but withered leaves, 
 God sees the sweet flowers growing. 
 
 THE HILLS OF THE LORD. 
 
 [ff E hath made them the haunt of beauty, 
 
 The home elect of His grace; 
 "He spreadeth His mornings on them. 
 His sunsets light their face. 
 
 His winds bring messages to them, 
 Wild storm — news from the main; 
 
 They sing it down to the valleys. 
 In the love song of the rain. 
 
POEMS OF NATURE. 159 
 
 They are nurseries for young rivers, 
 
 Nests for His flying cloud, 
 Homesteads for new-born races, 
 
 Masterful, free and proud. 
 
 The people of tired cities 
 
 Come up to their shrines and pray; 
 God freshens again within them, 
 
 As He passes by all day. 
 
 ALL MY SPRINGS ARE IN THEE. 
 
 IlijROM heart to heart, from creed to creed, 
 
 The hidden river runs. 
 It quickens all the ages down, 
 
 It bind the sires to sons — 
 The stream of faith, whose source is Grod, 
 
 Whose sound the sound of prayer. 
 Whose meadows are the holy lives 
 Upspringing everywhere. 
 
 And still it moves, a broadening flood, 
 
 And fresher, fuller grows 
 A sense as if the sea were near, 
 
 Towards where the river flows; 
 0, Thou who art the secret source 
 
 That rises in our souls. 
 
 Thou art the ocean, too — my charm. 
 
 That ever-deepening rolls ! 
 
 W. C. Gannett. 
 
160 POEMS OF NATURE. 
 
 A MISSION. 
 
 WALKED along a forest side, 
 Where light the shadow chases, 
 And flowers my footsteps to betide 
 Sprang thick in truant spaces. 
 
 Oh tell me why your loveliness 
 These lovely by-ways graces ? 
 
 They nodded back "We grow to bless 
 And fill up empty places! " 
 
 SUMMER OF THE SILENT HEART. 
 
 ;WAS Summer, and its youngest kiss 
 Fell on the rose-red lip of June, 
 Veiled in delicious haze the sun. 
 
 Made for our vale its tenderest noon. 
 
 The gentlest of all gentle winds 
 Stole o'er the silver of the stream ; 
 
 'Twas Summer lapt in Autumn's sleep, 
 The stillness of Spring's stillest dream. 
 
 Away, away, among the woods. 
 Where winds are rambling, let me too 
 
 Wander, and feed upon the Summer air. 
 Tasting the freshness of the undried dew. 
 
POEMS OF XATVBE. 161 
 
 Summer of the silent heart! 
 
 How rich the song your sunshine sings; 
 Oh luxury of tranquil thought, 
 
 This dreamy hour of sunshine brings ! 
 
 O sunshine of the laughing lip, 
 
 Soften your colors for a day ! 
 Take on this mild and mellow light — 
 
 Mingle the quiet -with the gay. 
 
 O shadows of the pensive heart ! 
 
 Glow into sunlight as the love 
 Comes down, in ever-gushing streams, 
 
 From the great heart of God above. 
 
 The shadow and sunlight thus 
 
 God tempers for us here below. 
 Mixing for us the joy and fear. 
 
 The safest cup for man below. 
 
 THE SONG OF A SUMMER STREAM. 
 
 j^^ FEW months ago 
 c5(^ I was singing through the snow! 
 But now the blessed sunshine is filling all the land, 
 And the memories are lost 
 Of the Avinter fog and frost, 
 In the presence of the Summer with her full and 
 glowing hand. 
 
162 POEMS OF NATURE. 
 
 Now the woodlark comes to drink, 
 At my cool and pearly brink, 
 And the lady-fern is bending to kiss my rainbow 
 foam ; 
 And the wild-rose buds entwine 
 With the dark-leaved bramble vine, 
 And the centuried oak is green around the bright- 
 eyed squirrel's home. 
 
 Oh, the full and glad content 
 That my little song is blent 
 With the all-melodious mingling of the choris- 
 ters.around ! 
 I no longer sing alone. 
 Through a chill, pervading moan, 
 For the very air is trembling with its wealth of 
 summer sound. 
 
 Though the hope seem long deferred 
 Ere the south wind's whisper heard 
 Gave a promise of the passing of the weary win- 
 ter days, 
 Yet the blessing was secure. 
 For the summer-time was sure, 
 W^hen the lonely songs are gathered in a mighty 
 choir of praise. 
 
 Frances Ridley Havergal. 
 
POEMS OF OCCASION. 
 
 GOOD-BYE, OLD YEAR, GOOD-BYE! 
 
 ;HE bells ring slow, in muffled tone, 
 The chilling wind makes sadder moan, 
 The flowers are dead, and all must die : 
 Good-bye, Old Year, Good-bye! 
 
 The laughing streams run coldly now. 
 Stern winter reigns with ice-crowned brow, 
 Fair summer is dead and you must die: 
 Good-bye, Old Yeai-, Good-bye ! 
 
 Once you were young but now you're old. 
 Our youth can never be bought with gold, 
 Your youth is dead, all youth must die: 
 Good-bye, Old Year, Good-bye ! 
 
 Your glory came, your glory's gone ! 
 All glory fades, time breathes upon 
 All grandeur, and pride shall surely die : 
 Good-bye, Old Year, Good-bye! 
 
164 POEMS OF OCCASION. 
 
 '"' You brought so many glittering joys, 
 That cloyed and broke like children's toys, 
 Our joys you've killed, now you must die : 
 Good-bye, Old Year, Good-bye ! 
 
 You brought us much of galling grief. 
 But like our joys its smart was brief; 
 If joy must die then grief must die : 
 Good-bye, Old Year, Good-bye ! 
 
 Thou wast a year of hundred years, 
 Of glorious triumph that endures ; 
 But ah ! as the others thou must die : 
 Good-bye, Old Year, Good-bye ! 
 
 Though husk must die the kernel lives. 
 So doth the truth each year e'er gives ; 
 Thou broughtest us much that will not die: 
 Good-bye, Old Year, Good-bye ! 
 
 George Whitney. 
 
 A PSALM FOR NEW YEAR'S EVE. 
 
 FRIEND stands at the door. 
 In either tight-closed hand 
 Hiding rich gifts, three hundred three score, 
 Waiting to strew them daily o'er the land, 
 Even as seed the sower. 
 
 Each drops, he treads it in, and passes by — 
 I cannot be made fruitful till it die. 
 
POEMS OF OCCASION. 165 
 
 O good New Year! we clasp 
 
 This warm shut hand of thine, 
 
 Loosing forever, with half sigh, half gasp, 
 
 That which from ours lalls like dead fingers' twine 
 
 Ay whether fierce our grasp ; 
 
 Has been, or gentle, having been we know 
 
 That it was blessed : let the Old Year go. 
 
 New Year teach us faith ! 
 
 The road of life is hard : 
 
 When our feet bleed and scourging wind us scathe, 
 
 Point thou to Him whose having been, we know, 
 
 But if that way must slope 
 
 Tombward, oh, bring before our fading eyes 
 
 The lamp of life, the hope that never dies. 
 
 Comfort our souls with love, 
 
 Love of all human kind : 
 
 Love special, close, in which, like sheltered dove, 
 
 Each weary heart its own safe nest may find ; 
 
 And love that turns above, 
 
 Adoringly, contented to resign. 
 
 All lives if need be for the love divine. 
 
 Friend, come thou like a friend. 
 And whether bright thy face, 
 Or dim wdth clouds we cannot comprehend, 
 We'll hold out patient hands each in his place, 
 And trust Thee to the end. 
 Knowing Thou leadest onward to those spheres 
 Where there are neither days, nor months, nor 
 years. 
 
 D. M. Craik. 
 
166 POEMS OF OCCASION. 
 
 A THANKSGIVING. 
 
 j^HOU burning love, Thou holy flame, 
 Thou my God and Lord ! 
 Thou hast preserved me my name, 
 
 When terrors were abroad ; 
 Thou helpest us in worse distress. 
 
 If we but cling to Thee, 
 Wherefore, my God, no bitterness 
 
 Shall ever make me flee. 
 
 Ah, I can never praise enough 
 
 The goodness Thou hast shown! 
 When days were dark, and storms were rough, 
 
 Thou mad'st Th}^ kingdom known ; 
 Thy miracles of goodness then. 
 
 Thou snfferedst me to see : 
 O bread of life ! my heart again 
 
 Cries, let me cling to Thee ! 
 
 Thee I desire, to Thee I cleave. 
 
 To Thee I will be true : 
 As opes the floweret to receive 
 
 The May-times' quickening dew, 
 So, in the time of grief and woe, 
 
 Opens my heart to Thee, 
 And feels anew a living glow, 
 
 For Thou consolest me. 
 
POEMS OF OCCASION. 107 
 
 Ah ! though I lived a thousand years, 
 
 And spake with thousand tongues, 
 I could not tell with words or tears, 
 
 What praise to Thee belongs. 
 Ah, no ! it never can be told, 
 
 Not even my God to Thee 
 How rich the gifts, how manifold. 
 
 That Thou hast showered on me ! 
 
 This only, my God, I pray. 
 
 My spirit may abide 
 In me, and keep me in Thy way, 
 
 My comfort and my guide. 
 Let nothing evil reign within, 
 
 Thine angels send to me. 
 Let me escape all snares of sin, 
 
 And lead me home to Thee. 
 
 EASTER. 
 
 saints keep holy day in heavenly places ? 
 Does the old joy shine new in heavenly 
 faces ? 
 Are hymns still sung the night when Christ was 
 
 born. 
 And anthems on the Resurrection morn? 
 
168 POEMS OF OCCASION. 
 
 Because our little year of earth is run, 
 Do they make record there beyond the sun, 
 And in their homes of light so far away, 
 Mark with us the sweet coming of this day. 
 
 What is their Easter? For they know no graves; 
 No shadow there the hol}^ sunrise crayes — 
 Deep in the heart of noontide marvellous, 
 Whose breaking glory reaches dow^n to us. 
 
 How did the Lord keep Easter? With His own ! 
 Back to meet Mary where she grieved alone, 
 With face and mien all tenderly the same, 
 Unto the very sepulchre He came. 
 
 Ah, the dear message He gave her there — 
 Said, for the sake of all bruised hearts of men — 
 "Go tell those friends who have believed on Me, 
 I go before them into Galilee ! " 
 
 Into the life so poor and hard and plain, 
 That for a while they must take up again. 
 My presence passes ! Where their feet toil slow, 
 Thine, shining swift with love, still foremost go ! 
 
 " Say, Mary, I will meet them, by the way. 
 To walk a little with them ; where they stay. 
 To bring my peace, watch ! For ye do not know. 
 The day, the hour, when I may find you so! " 
 
POEMS OF OCCASION. 169 
 
 And I do think, as He came back to her, 
 The many mansions may be all astir 
 With tender steps that hasten in the way, 
 Seeking their own upon this Easter Day. 
 
 Parting the veil that hideth them about, 
 I think they do come, softly, wistfully, out 
 From homes of Heaven that only seem so far, 
 And walk in gardens where the new tombs are ! 
 
 A. D, T. Whitney. 
 
 I 
 
 SABBATH. 
 
 DAY, most calm, most bright, 
 The fruit of this, the next world's love. 
 The endorsement of supreme delight, 
 By a friend, and with his blood 
 The couch of cares, balm and bay. 
 The week were dark, but for the light 
 Thy torch doth show the way. 
 
 Man had straight forward gone 
 
 To endless death, but Thou dost pull 
 
 And turn us round to look on One 
 
 If we were not very dull 
 
 We could not choose but look on still ; 
 
 Since there is a place, so alone, 
 
 The which He does not fill. 
 
 11 
 
170 POEMS OF OCCASION. 
 
 Sundays the pillars are 
 On which hear us palaced orchard lies ; 
 The other days fill up the space 
 And hoUow room with vanities. 
 The}^ are the fruitful bed and borders 
 In God's rich garden : that is bare, 
 Which parts their ranks and orders. 
 
 The Sundays of man's life 
 
 Threaded together on time's strings, 
 
 Make bracelets to adorn the wife 
 
 Of the eternal, glorious King. 
 
 On Sunday Heaven's gates stand ope. 
 
 Blessings are plentiful and rife, 
 
 More plentiful than hope. 
 
 G. Herbert. 
 
 A MERRY CHRISTMAS. 
 
 CHEISTMAS, Merry Christmas! 
 Is it really come again? 
 With its memories and greetings, 
 With its joys and with its pains. 
 There's a minor in the carol, 
 A shadow in the light, 
 And a spray of cypress twining 
 With the holy wreath to-night. 
 And the hush is never broken 
 By the laughter light and low, 
 As we listen in the starlight 
 " To the bells across the snow." 
 
POEMS OF OCCASION. 171 
 
 O, Christmas, Merry Christmas! 
 
 'Tis not so very long 
 
 Since other voices blended 
 
 With the carol and the song ! 
 
 If we could but hear them singing, 
 
 As they are singing now. 
 
 If we could but see the radiance 
 
 Of the crown on each dear brow; 
 
 There would be no sight to smother, 
 
 No hidden tear to flow. 
 
 As we listen in the starlight 
 
 " To the bells across the snow." 
 
 O, Christmas, Merry Christmas ! 
 
 This never more can be ; 
 
 We cannot bring again the days. 
 
 Of our unshadowed glee. 
 
 But Christmas, Happy Christmas, 
 
 Sweet herald of good-will, 
 
 With holy songs of glory, 
 
 Brings holy gladness still. 
 
 For peace and hope may brighten, 
 
 And patient love may glow. 
 
 As we listen in the starlight 
 
 "To the bells across the snow." 
 
 Miss Havergal. 
 
POEMS OF IMMORTALITY. 
 
 DREAMS OF THE DEAD. 
 
 |FT in still night-dreams a departed face 
 
 Bends o'er me with sweet earnestness of eye, 
 Wearing no more of earthly pains a trace, 
 But all the tender pity that may lie 
 On the clear brow of immortality, 
 Calm, yet profound. Soft rays illume my mien, 
 Th' unshadowed moonlight of some far off sky 
 Around it floats transparently serene. 
 As a pure veil of waters, O rich sleep ! 
 Thou hast strong spirits in thy regions deep, 
 Which glorify with reconciling breath. 
 Effacing, brightening, giving forth to shrine, 
 Beauty's high truth, and how much more divine 
 Thy favor when linked in this, with thy stern 
 Brother — Death ! 
 
POEMS OJ' IMMORTALITY. 173 
 
 THE IMMORTAL NOW. 
 
 ,;.^^IT not blindfold, soul, and sigh 
 j^ For the immortal by and by ! 
 Dreamer, seek not heaven afar 
 On the shores of some strange star ! 
 This a star is — this, thine earth ; 
 Here the green awakes to birth 
 Of God's sacred life in thee — 
 Heirs of immortality ! 
 
 In most heaven its radiance pours 
 Round thy window at thy doors, 
 Asking but to be let in ; 
 Waiting to flood out thy sin ; 
 Offering thee unfailing health, 
 Love's refreshment, boundless wealth, 
 Voices at thy life's gate say, 
 "Be immortal, soul, to-day!" 
 
 Thou canst shut the splendor out; 
 Darken every room with doubt; 
 From the entering angels hide. 
 Oh, the stifled bliss and mirth. 
 At the weary heart of earth, 
 We her children might awake ! 
 Songs would from her bosom break ; 
 Toil, unfettered from its curse, 
 God's glad purpose would rehearse, 
 If with Him we understood 
 Of creation — " it is good." 
 
174 POEMS OF IMMORTALITY. 
 
 Soul, perceive thy perfect hour! 
 Let thy life burst into flower! • 
 Heaven is opening to bestow 
 More than thou canst think or know. 
 Now to thy true height arise ! 
 Enter now thy Paradise! 
 In to-day, to-morrow see, 
 Now is immortality! 
 
 Under tinseled wefts of pride. 
 While the pure in heart behold 
 God in every flower unfold ; 
 While the poor His kingdom share. 
 Reigning with Him everywhere. 
 
 Oh, let Christ and sunshine in! 
 
 Let His love its sweet way win ! , 
 
 Nothing human is too mean 
 
 To receive the King unseen. 
 
 Not a pleasure or a care 
 
 But celestial robes may wear; 
 
 Impulse, thought, and action may 
 
 Live immortally to-day. 
 
 Balance not in scales of time, 
 
 Deathless destinies sublime ! 
 
 What vague future can weigh down - 
 
 This great Now that is thine own? 
 
 Love were miserly that gave 
 
 Onl}!^ gifts beyond the grave. 
 
 Heaven makes every earth-plant thrive 
 
 All things are in God alive. 
 
POEMS OF IMMORTALITY. 175 
 
 IMMUTABLE. 
 
 cr^ GOD ! we are but leaves upon Thy stream, 
 A^^ Clouds on Thy sky. We do but move across 
 The silent breast of Thine infinitude 
 Which bears all. We pour out day by day, 
 Our long, brief moan of mutability 
 To Thine immutable, and cease. 
 
 Yet still 
 Our change yearns after Thine unchangedness; 
 Our mortal craves Thine immortalit}^ ; 
 Our manifold and multiform and weak 
 Imperfectness requires the perfect one — 
 For Thou art one, and we are all of Thee ; 
 Dropped from Thy bosom, as Thy sky drops down 
 Its morning dews, which glitter for a space, 
 Uncertain whence they fell, or whither tend, 
 'Till the great sun arising on his fields 
 Upcalls them all, and they rejoicing go! 
 So, with like joy, light eterne, we spring 
 Theeward, and leave the pleasant fields of earth, 
 Forgetting equally its blossomed meads. 
 And its dry, dust}^ paths which drank us up 
 Remorseless — we, poor humble drops of dew. 
 That only wished to freshen a flower's heart, 
 And be exalted to heaven. 
 
 O Thou supreme 
 All-satisfying and immutable one, 
 It is enough to be abashed in Thee. 
 
 Dinah Muloch Craik. 
 
176 POEMS OF IMMORTALITY. 
 
 Without an end or bound, 
 
 Thy life lies all outspread in light; 
 
 Our lives feel Thy life all around, 
 
 Making our weakness strong, our darkness bright; 
 
 Yet is it neither wilderness nor sea, 
 But the calm gladness of a full eternity. 
 
 Faber. 
 
 THE IMMORTAL MIND. 
 
 HEN coldness wraps this suffering clay, 
 Ah, whither strays the immortal mind? 
 It cannot die, it cannot stay. 
 
 But leaves its darkened dust behind. 
 Then unembodied doth it trace 
 
 By step each planet's heavenly way ? 
 Or fill at once the realms of space, 
 A thing of eyes, that all survey? 
 
 Eternal, boundless, undecayed, 
 
 A thought unseen, but seeing all, 
 All, all in earth or skies displayed, 
 
 Shall it survey, shall it recall : 
 Each fainter trace that memory holds 
 
 So darkly, of departed years, 
 In one broad glance the soul beholds. 
 
 And all that was, at once appears. 
 
POEMS OF IMMORTALITY. Ill 
 
 Before creation peopled earth, 
 
 Its eyes shall roll through chaos black, 
 And where the furthest heaven had birth, 
 
 The spirit trace its rising track ; 
 And where the future mars or makes. 
 
 Its glance dilates o'er all to be, 
 Whilst sun is quenched or system breaks, 
 
 Fixed in its own eternity. 
 
 Above or Love, Hope, Hate, or Fear, 
 
 It lives all passionless ^nd pure : 
 An age shall fleet like earthly year, 
 
 Its years as moments shall endure. 
 Away, away, without a wing. 
 
 O'er all, through all, its thoughts shall fly, 
 A nameless and eternal thing, 
 
 Forgetting^what it was to die. 
 
 Lord Byron. 
 
POEMS OF PRAISES, 
 
 THE ANGELS' SONG. 
 
 '(^WCROSS India's plains 
 cj ^ The night stars gleam like gold, 
 Where float these angel's strains ; 
 
 The shepherds heard of old, 
 Glory to God on high, 
 
 Sweet peace on earth we bring 
 And glory floods the sky 
 
 While God's glad angels sing. 
 
 And still at Christmas tide 
 
 Are heard those heavenly notes, 
 O'er all the world so wide 
 
 That glad sweet music floats 
 Above earth's sad, low plains ; 
 
 They furl the snowy wing. 
 And o'er its tears and pains 
 
 The blessed angels sing. 
 
POEMS OF PRAISES. 179 
 
 PRAISES. 
 „ .ALLELUJAH! Praise the Lord ! 
 
 viol 
 
 ^^ From the heavens, with one accord, 
 
 Praise be to Jehovah given; 
 
 Praise- Him in the heights of Heaven. 
 
 Praise Him, all His angel choir, 
 Praise Him, all ye hosts of fire; 
 Praise Him, sun and moon so bright. 
 Praise Him, all ye stars of light. 
 
 Praise Him, heaven of heavens so high; 
 Praise Him, floods above the sky ; 
 In His name let all be glad, 
 For He spake and they were made. 
 
 Them forever 'stablished He, 
 
 B}'- unchangeable decree : 
 
 From the earth, praise, praise the Lord, 
 
 Dragons, deeps, with one accord. 
 
 Hail and lightning, snow and mists. 
 Storms fulfilling His behests, 
 Hills and might}^ mountains all, 
 Fruitful trees and cedars tall. 
 
 Praise Him, all ye birds of wing. 
 Beast and herd and creeping thing. 
 Nations on this earthly ball. 
 Kings and princes, judges all. 
 
180 POEMS OF PRAISES. 
 
 Youths and maidens, old and young, 
 Praise Jehovah's name in song , 
 For His name above is high. 
 And His glory fills the sky. 
 
 He His people's horn doth raise; 
 Of His holy ones the praise : 
 Sons of Israel, dear and nigh. 
 Praise the Lord eternally." 
 
 For all the gifts Thou dost impart, 
 Help me to praise with grateful heart; 
 My life be praise from day to day. 
 Till earthly scenes have passed away, 
 Until in heaven's refulgent light. 
 Thy glory satisfies my sight ! 
 Then in Thy throne's unclouded blaze. 
 My prayers shall all be changed to praise 
 
 SING UNTO THE LORD. 
 
 )H LORD, make Thou my life a tuned harp, 
 And let me be 
 A joyous instrument that shall respond 
 In songs to Thee. 
 
POEMS OF PRAISES. 181 
 
 So, when Thy hand shall'sweep across the strings, 
 
 Each separate chord 
 May be an echo of Thy holy will, 
 
 And truth, oh Lord. 
 
 And if the world's rough fingers shall awake 
 
 Some evil strain, 
 Do Thou, oh Lord; put all the willful strings 
 
 In tune again. 
 
 And keep my harp in tune, that all my notes 
 May ever be like Heaven's music, 
 
 Heard through "gates ajar," 
 In harmony. 
 
 When the wild winds of sorrow sweep my harp 
 
 Till every string 
 In mournful cadence through some minor key 
 
 Shall sadly ring. 
 
 Do Thou, with touch of love upon the chords. 
 
 Sweet comfort bring, 
 Till, answering to Th}^ hand of love, my harp 
 
 Once more shall sing. 
 
 And when the winter storms wreck all my song, 
 
 Shall seize my harp, and 
 Shake the trembling strings and death's cold clasp, 
 
 With his rude grasp ; 
 
182 
 
 . POEMS OF PRAISES. 
 
 Then, my Lord ! my fragile earthly harj) 
 
 I bring to Thee, 
 That it may sing with Thy sweet praise 
 
 Through all eternity. 
 
 Marion M. Wingrave. 
 
POEMS OF HYMN. 
 
 HYMN. 
 
 ^)^ITHIN, within, oh turn 
 
 Thy spirit eyes and learn 
 Thy wandering senses gently to control, 
 Thy dearest friend dwells deep within thy soul, 
 And asks thyself of thee. 
 That heart, and mind, and sense. He may make 
 
 whole, 
 In perfect harmony. 
 Dost not thy inmost spirit yield, 
 And sink where love stands thus revealed ? 
 Be still and veil thy face, 
 The Lord is here, this is His holy place ! 
 Then back to earth, and 'mid its toil and throng, 
 One glance within will keep the calm and strong; 
 And when the toil is o'er, how sweet, God ! to flee 
 Within to Thee ! 
 
 Unknown, 
 
184 POEMS OF HYMX. 
 
 HIGH THE ANGEL CHOIRS ARE RAISING. 
 
 IGH the angel choirs are raising, 
 Heart and voice in harmony ; 
 The creator King still praising, 
 Whom in beauty there they see. 
 Sweetest strains from the soft harps stealing; 
 Trumpets, notes of triumph pealing; 
 Radiant wings and white stoles gleaming, 
 Up the steps of glory streaming; 
 Where the heavenly bells are ringing ; 
 Holy, holy, holy! crying; 
 For all earthly care and sighing 
 In that city cease to be ! 
 Oh, how beautiful that region ! 
 And how fair that heavenly legion, 
 Where thus men and angels blend ! 
 Glorious will that city be, 
 Full of deep tranquillity ; . 
 Light and peace from end to end I 
 All the happy dwellers there 
 Shine in robes of purity. 
 Keep the laws of charity 
 Bound in firmest unity — 
 Labor finds them not, not care. 
 Ignorance can ne'er perplex, 
 Nothing tempt them, nothing vex; 
 Joy and health their fadeless blessing, 
 Always all things good possessing! 
 
 Thomas A'Kempis. 
 
POEMS OF PRAYER. 
 
 PRAYER. 
 
 ;HERE is an eye that never sleeps 
 Beneath the wing of night ; 
 There is an ear that never shuts 
 When sink the beams of light ; 
 There is an arm that never tires 
 When human strength gives way; 
 There is a love that never fails 
 When earthly loves decay. 
 That eye is fixed on seraph throngs ; 
 That ear is filled with angel's songs; 
 That arm upholds the world on high; 
 That love is thrown beyond the sky. 
 But there's a power that men can wield, 
 When mortal aid is vain ; 
 That eye, that arm, that love to reach. 
 That listening ear to gain. 
 The power is prayer^ which soars on high. 
 And feeds on bliss beyond the sky ! 
 12 
 
186 POEMS OF PRAYER. 
 
 COMING TO THE KING. 
 
 CAME and communed with that mighty King 
 And told him all my heart; I cannot say 
 In mortal ear what communings were they, 
 But would'st thou know ; go too, and meekly bring 
 All that is in my heart, and thou shalt know 
 His voice of love and power, His answers sweet 
 and clear. 
 
 Oh happy end of every weary quest! 
 
 He told me all I needed graciously, — 
 
 Enough for guidance and victory. 
 
 O'er doubts and fears enough for quiet rest ; 
 
 And when some veiled response I could not read, 
 
 It was not hid from Him — this was enough indeed. 
 
 His wisdom and His glories passed before 
 My wondering eyes in gradual revelation, 
 The house that He had built, its strong foundation. 
 Its living stones, and brightning more and more. 
 Fair glimpses of that palace far away, 
 When all His loyal ones shall dwell with him for 
 aye. 
 
 Oh, blessed be the Lord thy God who set thee, 
 Our King upon His throne : divine delight 
 In the Beloved, crowning Thee with might. 
 Honor, and majesty supreme; and yet 
 The strange and God-like secret opening thus — 
 The Kingship of His Christ ordained through 
 love to us. 
 
POEMS OF PRAYER. 
 
 187 
 
 What shall I render to my glorious King ? 
 I have but that which I received from Thee, 
 And Avhat I give Thou givest back to me, 
 Transmuted by Thy touch ; each worthless thing 
 Changed to the preciousness of gem or gold, 
 And by Thy blessing multiplied a thousand fold. 
 
 Now will I turn to mine own land, and tell 
 What I myself have seen and heard of Thee, 
 And give Thine own sweet message "Come to see !" 
 And yet in heart and forever dwell 
 With Thee, my King of Peace, in loyal rest. 
 Within the fair pavilion of Thy presence blest. 
 
 F. R. H. 
 
POEMS OF BENEDICTION. 
 
 A BENEDICTION. 
 
 "The Lord bless thee and keep thee; the Lord make His face 
 shine upon thee, and be gracious unto thee ; the Lord lift up His coun- 
 tenance upon thee, and give thee peace."— Numbers vi : 24-26. 
 
 " Saith the Lord, In blessing I will bless thee." — Genesis xxii : 16, 17. 
 
 ;HE Lord Almighty bless thee 
 From His own heavenly store, 
 The fullness of his presence 
 Be with thee evermore. 
 
 Exodus xxxm : 14. 
 
 The God of Glory keep thee — 
 Keep thee in perfect peace; 
 
 Leading thee bravely forward, 
 Till every conflict cease. 
 
 Isaiah xxvi : 3, 4. 
 
POEMS OF BENEDICTION. 189 
 
 May Jesus hold thee safely, 
 
 Close to His beating heart, 
 And to thy soul's deep yearning 
 
 His love and life impart. 
 
 Deut. XXXIII : 12. 
 
 May His own arm be round thee, 
 
 And compass every side, 
 Under His soft wing nestling 
 
 May'st thou for aye abide. 
 
 Dent, xxxm: 27; Ps. xci:4. 
 
 And may thine ears be opened 
 
 To hear His whisper low^, 
 Down in thy heart's deep chambers, 
 
 Where He alone can go. 
 
 Psalms XXV : U. 
 
 And may thine eyes behold Him, 
 
 Until thy raptured sight 
 Long for the full fruition 
 
 Of visions now^ so bright. 
 
 Hebrews ii : 9. 
 
 In blessing, may He bless thee. 
 
 Filled full to flowing o'er, 
 With gifts from heaven above thee. 
 
 Both now and evermore. 
 
 Mai. Ill: 10. 
 
190 
 
 POEMS OF BENEDICTION. 
 
 In one long hallelujah, 
 
 In one long burst of praise, 
 
 May'st thou the song of triumph 
 To thy loved Jesus raise. 
 
 Rev. XIX : 6. 
 
 " Satisfied with favor, and full with the blessing of the Lord." 
 
 Deut. xxxin : 23. 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
 015 863 756 A ^ 
 
 ssmKKt>ff!9ii^i9tBgamasa 
 
 // 
 
 .4-