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AUTHOR: 
 
 MACDUFF, JOHN 
 
 TITLE: 
 
 WELLS OF BACA , OR 
 SOLACES OF THE 
 CHRISTIAN MOURNER 
 
 PLACE: 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 DATE: 
 
 1859 
 
COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY LIBRARIES 
 PRESERVATION DEPARTMENT 
 
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 tMacBuff, John Ross, 1818-1895.-^^ 
 
 Wells of Baca; or. Solaces of the Christian 
 mourner, and other thoughts on bereavement. By 
 the author of "The faithful promisor," "IJight 
 watches," <fcc . . . From the London edition. 
 Boston, T. R. Marvin & son, and J. E. Tilton & 
 CO.; Philadelphia, W. S. & A. Martien, 1859. 
 64 p. 14^"^. 
 
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 LIBRARY 
 
 GIVEN BY 
 
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 I • « » » » • 
 
 SOLACES OF •THE' €HRJ5Tip l^OURNER, 
 
 • • • ••• ^lo' • ' ' 
 
 OTHER THOrCHTS ON BEREAVEMENT. 
 
 BT THE AUTROK 09 
 "THE FAITHFUL PROMISER," "NIGHT WATCHES,' 
 
 tec. Sx. 
 
 •Who pesaiDg through the valley of Baca (toeeprng), nuke it 
 • Wkll." — Pealm IzxxIt. 6. 
 
 FROM THE LOXDOV EDtTIOIT. 
 
 BO STON: 
 T. R. MARVIN & SON, AND J. E. TILTON & CO. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA I W. S. & A. MARTIEN. 
 1859. 
 
• • • •• • 
 
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 5» 
 
 THE BEREAVED CHRISTIAN, 
 
 Entered, according to Act of CongreM, in the year 1858, bj 
 T. R. MARVIN, 
 
 In the Clerk'i Office of the DJrtrict Court of the District of 
 
 MatsachuBettB. 
 
 lAii. 
 
 11. 'V.^ 
 
 Ct^'^HXA\— 
 
 MOUBNINO THE LOSS 
 
 OF THOSE WHO HAVE FALLEN 
 
 "ASLEEP IN JESUS," 
 
 THIS 
 
 fdhnti nf Ippatljii 
 
 
 IS INSCRIBED. 
 
 (3) 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 THE CONTEASr, » 
 
 THE RETROSPECT, 17 
 
 THE MAN OF SORROWS, . . . . . fl7 
 
 THE GOURD .' 37 
 
 THE FURNACE, 44 
 
 THE SOLACE, 53 
 
 THE CROWN, 59 
 
 (4) 
 
 PREFACE 
 
 TO THE AMERICAN EDITION, 
 
 « Every heart knoweth its own bitterness," and 
 «a stranger is not permitted to intermeddle,"— 
 yet we are commanded to " bear one another's 
 burdens ; " and hence the law and duty of human 
 sympathy. While it is true that there is a grief 
 which no human power can relieve, and scarcely 
 mitigate, it is no less true that the subjects of such 
 grief are better fitted to endure their sorrow when 
 assured of the tender sympathy of friends, than 
 when left to pine away in lonely grief. Expe- 
 rience in the furnace of affliction is the best pre- 
 parative to enable us to afford grateful succor to 
 bereaved friends. 
 
 It is not well to shrink from society and refuse 
 to be comforted. God chastens in love, and we 
 do not wisely to close our eyes to the proofs of his 
 goodness, or our ears to the consolatory sugges- 
 tions of Christian friendship. By excluding friends, 
 
 (5) 
 
6 
 
 r££FAC£. 
 
 we often debar ourselves from much valuable 
 consolation — while by bidding them welcome we 
 ofttimes " entertain angels unawares." 
 
 We do well to weep in affliction, but not to 
 abide in the ^^ wells of weeping." We should 
 go upon the Mount of Vision daily, that we may 
 see the field of duty spread out before us, and 
 may learn how to honor God and bless our race^ 
 even when smarting under the rod. Afflictions 
 certainly fail to accomplish what God intends 
 when they lead us to wrap ourselves up in selfish 
 sorrow, and neglect to perform what Providence 
 indicates as our duty, in the constant and ener- 
 getic discharge of our regular calling. 
 
 Affliction does us good when it burns off the 
 dross, and burnishes the gold for present use and 
 beauty. " Our sorrow becomes excessive when 
 it withdraws the heart from God ; when it drives 
 us from the path of ordinary duty ; when it de- 
 stroys our enjoyment of the comforts which re- 
 main; when it impairs our sympathy with the 
 griefs or joys of others; when it checks us in 
 prayer, or in the exercises of faith, and love, and 
 gratitude to our God and Saviour. Such feelings 
 of grief are evidently immoderate, and ^ such sor- 
 row worketh death.' " 
 
 The "Wells of Baca" is happily adapted 
 to minister consolation to bruised and bleeding 
 
 PREFACE. i 
 
 hearts. It frankly admits the extent and depth of 
 their sorrow, and tolerates a comparison between 
 their past and present condition; it unfolds the 
 nature of affliction, its source, and intent, and 
 legitimate effect; while the furnace is exposed 
 to view, the true solace is plainly pointed out, 
 and the believer's crown is made to shine in Gos- 
 pel purity and brilliancy. 
 
 This little volume has already afforded comfort 
 to many sorrowing hearts, and has shown where 
 alone the aching heads of God's afflicted children 
 may find rest and ease. It is republished at the 
 request of one who derived comfort from its peru- 
 sal, and desired that it might be reprinted, that she 
 mi^ht give a copy to her afflicted friends. May 
 she — though now dead — be enabled by this 
 little volume to address words of consolation to 
 many stricken hearts. 
 
 RoxBURY, December, 1853. 
 
God of the Mourner! round whose awful 
 
 Throne 
 Peal the Hosannahs of the Heavenly Choir! 
 Vouchsafe, in love, a feebler note to own 
 Of Earthly Minstrelsy ! Do Thou inspire 
 The plaintive chords of an untutor'd Lyre, 
 Touch'd with a trembling hand and tearful eye j 
 And if one borrow'd spark of sacred fire 
 Should soothe a grief, or mitigate a sigh, 
 
 The Glory all be Thine — Thou Triune Deity ! 
 
 (8) 
 
 Cllt Cnntrast. 
 
 Who can unfold the secrets of the heart 
 
 Torn with bereavement ? Sacred pangs are there 
 
 With which a stranger dare not intermeddle, 
 
 Too sad for utterance, too deep for tears ! 
 
 Oh ! how one blow can metamorphose life ; 
 
 Transmute into the saddest what was once 
 
 The happiest Home, and open bleeding wounds ^ 
 
 Which Heaven alone can medicate ! The Past ! 
 
 What volumes that emphatic word contains 
 
 Of tender recollections ! hallow'd hours,— 
 
 Soothing life's sorrows -sweetening its joys. 
 
 The Future ! Once the calendar of bliss. 
 
 Its firmament bedeck'd with lustrous stars 
 
 Of brilliant promise, suddenly eclipsed ; 
 
 Now treasuring in desolate perspective 
 
 Ills hitherto undreaded. Hear the verdict 
 
 Of the Bereaved spirit, on a World 
 
 Invested once with many nameless charms, 
 
 But now so sadly alter'd :-" That bright sun 
 
10 
 
 THE CONTRAST. 
 
 May shine as brightly as it did before — 
 
 Its light seems dim to me ! Those emerald fields, 
 
 And crested hills, and undulating slopes, 
 
 The shady groves, and softly-murmuring streams, 
 
 Where once, with joyous steps, I loved to rove, 
 
 A thousand scenes and images recall 
 
 Of happier hours irrevocably gone ; 
 
 While faithful memory (sad chronicler 
 
 Of bygone bliss) invests the retrospect 
 
 With all but living truth. The melody 
 
 Of cherish'd voices seems to linger there ; 
 
 Each sylvan footpath has its tear to claim, 
 
 And tale of buried love. Each rivulet 
 
 Warbles the music of some fond delights 
 
 Ne'er to return again. Once how I loved 
 
 To mark the changing year ! each varying season 
 
 Revolving bliss. The winter's blazing hearth. 
 
 When the wild storm was revelling without. 
 
 Endearing all the more a cherish'd home. 
 
 But now in vain it wastes its crackling mirth 
 
 On the lone heart. More apposite appears 
 
 That sweeping tempest, rioting at will, 
 
 Winff'd with the thunder— in its wild career 
 
 Bearing destruction— Nature's bosom strewn 
 
 THE CONTEAST. 
 
 11 
 
 With trophies of its might. And yet, methinks, 
 Its burden'd sighs and moanings seem to lend 
 The broken heart a sympathy, which oft 
 A cold and selfish world denies ! Or, when 
 The waning season's devastating blasts 
 Of rude continuance, made the eye to long 
 For the return of spring, how once I loved 
 To watch the footsteps of the new-bom year ! 
 The Earth (long sepulchred) emerging from 
 The Grave of Winter, and her winding-sheet 
 Of snow exchanging, to be deck'd anew 
 In emerald robes of renovated life. 
 The warbling choristers of wood and grove 
 That sung so late their plaintive Elegies, 
 As if Chief- Mourners o'er her Tomb, again 
 Vocal with praise ! Ah ! sadly, strangely sounds 
 To the bereaved heart such symphony ! • 
 These tuneless melodies by hill and dale, 
 Of pensive sorrow latent chords awake. 
 Which make the bosom powerless to respond 
 To Nature's joy ! Where is the voice whose music 
 Was more to me than all the world beside ? 
 The noonday sun his dazzling lustre pours. 
 These winged choristers now tune their notes 
 
12 
 
 THE CONTRAST. 
 
 Around that Grave ! The bursting loreliness 
 Of the incipient year, seems but to mock 
 The desolated spirit, which is destined 
 To know no spring-time. Universal nature 
 Starts from her slumber. But there is one sleep 
 Too deep to be disturb'd. One Ear remains 
 Closed to the summons! While th' imprisoned 
 
 Earth 
 Bursts from her wintry dungeon, where the storm 
 And tempest (gloomy warders) guarded her, 
 This stern Custodier of captive millions 
 Alone denies surrender ! Spring may clothe 
 The Churchyard's sacred sod with fresher verdure, 
 Or lend her glistening dews (expressive tear-drops) 
 To mingle their mute sympathy, and wail 
 Life's tender blossoms blighted in the bud ; 
 But her teanimating voice in vain 
 Evokes the ashes slumbering underneath ! 
 
 " Oh ! happy peasant ! When thy daily task 
 Of weary toil is over, how I envy 
 Thy cheerful step and artless rustic strains, 
 (Faithful exponents!) oft, as homewards tending 
 On Summer eve, to meet the joyous welcome 
 
 THE CONTEAST. It 
 
 To affluence oft denied— the mirthful glee 
 
 Of an unbroken circle — word unknown 
 
 In many a lordly hall and proud demesne." 
 
 But hush these plaintive musings — all thy tears 
 Cannot weep back the buried ! True, at times 
 Nature expression to her brooding grief 
 Must be permitted. Cold indeed the heart 
 That would presume the tribute to refuse 
 Of friendship's tenderness to friendship's worth, 
 And libel it unmanliness to mourn ! 
 There is a sacred luxury in tears 
 None but the lacerated bosom knows. 
 If Stoical philosophy forbid 
 Their gentle flow, go mark at Bethany 
 The wondrous tear-drops of the Man of Sorrows. 
 Mourner, be this thy warrant, ^^ Jesus Wept ! " 
 
 Yet be it thine to check superfluous grief; 
 And, if the pensive spirit love to linger 
 On treasured recollections, waste not thoughts, 
 Indulge not vain regrets, on happiness 
 Beyond recall ; but read emphatic lessons 
 (For ever reading, yet how hard to learn!) 
 
14 
 
 THE CONTRAST. 
 
 On Earth^s delusive pleasures, — airy bubbles 
 Dancing their little moment on the stream, 
 Then vanishing for ever;— plants which fade 
 (Like the recorded gourd of Nineveh) 
 Just when most needed ; breeding their own wonn, 
 And, in their freshness, yielding to decay ! 
 
 Go ! estimate amid the humbling wrecks 
 Of broken cisterns and of blighted joys, 
 The worth of the vain world which has deceived 
 
 thee. 
 Strange, that it should so long with Siren voice 
 Have lullaby'd thy spirit^ weaving dreams 
 Of visionary bliss around thy path, — 
 Baseless enchantments, ne'er to know fruition ! 
 The World ! 'Tis but a synonyme for change. 
 As well recline thy head upon the surge, 
 The ever-varying billow. Like the Dove 
 Which, of old, track'd a wilderness of waves, 
 With weary pinion and with wailing cry. 
 Roaming the waste to find a leafy bough 
 Whereon to set its foot ; so does the Soul 
 (Pluming immortal pinions for the flight) 
 Traverse the world's tumultuous sea in vain 
 
 THE CONTRAST. 
 
 15 
 
 To find a resting-place — " It findeth none ! " 
 
 Life is one scene of Tempest ! There may be 
 
 Lulls in the sweeping storm— the alternations 
 
 Of cloud and sunshine ; but no more than gleams : 
 
 Not the true lustre of the fixed star j 
 
 Rather the fitful meteoric glare. 
 
 One moment dazzling with its lurid light. 
 
 The next all dark, and, by the power of contrast, 
 
 Darkness more sensible ! E'en when the cup 
 
 Of life is fullest, is it not enough 
 
 To mar its brightest hour of festive joy 
 
 (As did the characters of living fire. 
 
 Which gleam'd of old amid the revelries 
 
 Of Chaldee's lords)— the possibility 
 
 That Death may soon, the certainty he must 
 
 At some time come, and write his Mene Tekel 
 
 Upon the clay-built walls ? The tie to life 
 
 How frail ! There is, between us and the grave. 
 
 Nought but a breath ! To-day the bark may spread 
 
 Her canvas to the gale ; all may presage 
 
 A prosperous voyage, fann'd by gentle zephyrs. 
 
 One creaking plank the morrow may reveal ! 
 
 Seal'd is her doom ; the starting timber yields, 
 
 And down she sinks into the eddying wave, 
 
16 
 
 THE CONTKAST. 
 
 A shatter'd wreck ! Oh ! whither shall we flee, 
 
 ^Mid the convulsion of these thick'ning storms 
 
 (This heaving ocean of vicissitude), 
 
 To find some quiet haven of repose 
 
 Safe from the tempest shock ? Lo ! from an Ark, 
 
 Riding triumphant o'er the angry deep, 
 
 Accents of love proceed ! It is the voice 
 
 Of an unchanging God, changeless alone 
 
 Amid all change ! Oh, blessed hiding-place ! 
 
 As louder raged the hurricane of old, 
 
 And mightier was the flow of gushing waters 
 
 On a submerged Earth, the higher rose 
 
 Upon the bosom of the foaming surge, 
 
 Proof to the roar of elemental war. 
 
 The Patriarch's ark ; so, Christian Mourner ! safe 
 
 Within thy Covenant Shelter, wave on wave 
 
 May roll successive over thee, as if 
 
 The rifled fountains of the deep were suffer'd 
 
 To riot at their pleasure ; but each billow 
 
 Uplifts thee farther from the Shores of Time 
 
 Nearer thy God ; and as behind thou leav'st 
 
 A devastated Earth, Faith elevates 
 
 Above the wrecks of sublunary bliss, 
 
 And brings thee to the golden gates of Heaven ! 
 
 Cbe fvttraBjitrt. 
 
 Oh ! selfish tears ! who would unglorify 
 The Sainted Pilgrim? His unruffled bliss 
 Disturb, and pluck the crown from off" his brow. 
 
 To bring him back to earth? " We sorrow not 
 
 As those who have no hope."— Fallen he has 
 "Asleep in Jesus ! " pillow'd on the bosom 
 Of uncreated Love! basking for ever 
 Beneath the sunshine of Jehovah's smile. 
 Sorrows all ended— wiped from every eye 
 The ling'ring tear-drop- immortality 
 Begun ; a golden harp, and sparkling crown. 
 And palm unfading ; with Immanuel's praise 
 The tongue seraphic— (ever-deep'ning anthems 
 Of which imagination cannot catch 
 The distant echo !) Shall the selfishness 
 Of earthly sorrow interrupt that song. 
 Or break that holy rest ? " Asleep in Jesus ! " 
 (What music in the words !) Hark to the strain 
 In gentle cadence stealing from the skies:— 
 
 2 (17) , 
 
18 
 
 THE RETROSrECT. 
 
 '^ Mourners ! why shed for me mistaken tears 1 
 If ye did love me, ye would now rejoice, 
 Because I said, I go unto my Father ! " 
 
 Wondrous transition in life's closing hour ! 
 The burden'd Pilgrim of his Cross released, 
 And carried to his Crown ! Upon a world 
 Of woe, Earth's curtain faUing, to arise 
 Anew on realms of glory ! Who, with heart 
 Unmoved, can gaze upon the solemn scene 
 Of nature's dissolution I Who forget 
 Those moments — more like hours — of dread 
 
 suspense, 
 When, seated with a bursting tide of anguish 
 By the toss'd pillow of some loved one's couch. 
 Watching the herald symptoms of the tomb 
 Fast gathering around ! The Lamp of Life 
 Is feebly flickering ; upon the brink 
 Of a receding world the Spirit hovers ; 
 The sand-glass hastens to its final grain ! 
 'T is the last struggle ! Yet, oh ! can it be 1 
 Nature recoils from the sad inference ! 
 Fallacious hope still clings-but clings in vain- 
 To every beat of the exhausted pulse ! 
 
 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 19 
 
 It i3 — it is too true ! The conflict's o'er 
 
 Mourner ! that moment's pang of agony 
 
 Tongue ne'er can tell, when call'd, with trembling 
 
 lips, 
 A sad farewell to lisp ! thy spirit lone 
 Driftinij on life's rude sea a shatter'd wreck ! 
 
 Yet tell me what thy spirit first assuaged, 
 When the fresh torrent of thy grief had spent 
 Its rolling tears 1 Say, was it not to soar 
 Upon the wings of faith, and hear the voice — 
 Silent on earth — uniting in the songs 
 Of Heav'n? That Saint has wept his final tear— 
 Heaved his last pang! — Earth's closing draught 
 
 of sorrow 
 Has been exhausted ; open'd have these eyes 
 Upon the glories of a tearless world ! 
 The ear insensible to earthly sounds 
 Has caught celestial melody, and Death 
 Has proved the harbinger of endless bliss,— 
 The Birthday of Eternity ! The hour 
 Which marks the close of his existence here. 
 In truth, the Christian's life (as charter'd heir 
 And denizen of Immortality), 
 
20 
 
 THE KETKOSrECT. 
 
 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 21 
 
 Begins. And if we festive keep the day 
 Of the frail body's entrance into life, 
 And earthly friends are gather'd in to offei 
 Their joyous gratulations, shall it be 
 With tears we celebrate the natal hour 
 Of the undying spirit, entering 
 A Sinless, Deathless, Sorrowless for-ever? 
 
 Earth may indulge in tears, but Heaven has 
 
 none. 
 The doleful sackcloth'd chamber may resound 
 With lamentation ; but that sad farewell 
 Has waken'd up a Jubilee on high ; 
 And the glad accents burst from every tongue : — 
 " Welcome an heir of Immortality ! " 
 
 Bereaved Mother ! mourning o'er the loss 
 Of a departed child, — a Flower soon pluck'd 
 (But not too soon for glory), which distilPd 
 Celestial fragrance on thy path below, 
 Weep not! but let thy envied boast be this,— 
 <• I am the parent of a ransom'd Saint ! " 
 Bright Beacon-light, set on the Heavenly shore, 
 To which in many a deep, dark night of sorrow. 
 
 Oft thou may'st turn thine eye; its hallow'd 
 
 radiance 
 Cheering thy shatter'd bark across the waves 
 Betwixt thee intervening and the haven 
 Of thine eternal rest ! Thrice sacred tie ! 
 That Spirit, which delighted while on earth, 
 Like the magnetic needle to its pole. 
 To point thee oft to Jesus, still directs 
 To the same glorious Source of heavenly love, 
 Of joy in sorrow, victory in death ! 
 Oh ! is it no incentive when thou think'st 
 That in the lustrous crowd of Witnesses 
 Which line the battlements on high, are those 
 Who lighted once with their perennial smile 
 This wilderness— still from their lofty seats, 
 Stooping to woo us with their crowns of bliss? 
 The Bride says, "Come!"— A sweetly-mingled 
 
 voice 
 Of sainted Parents — Brothers, Sisters— Friends, 
 
 Stealing in holy music from the skies 
 
 (In the soft whispers of celestial love). 
 
 And telling, though they " cannot come to us," 
 
 There is a meeting-place in brighter climes, 
 
 Which knows no parting ! 
 
22 
 
 THE RETROSrECl'. 
 
 To that ransom'd one, 
 The "why" and "wherefore" of God's mystic 
 
 dealings, 
 Already is unfolded : That which clothed 
 An earthly home in sadness, will to him 
 Radiant be now with cov'nant love ; great ends 
 And righteous purposes therein reveal'd, 
 Almost by intuition, which will give 
 New matter and new theme for endless praise ' 
 While we, short-sighted mortals, " through a glass 
 Darkly beholding," ofteil thus exclaim : 
 " Great God ! thy judgments are a mighty deep ! " 
 Oh ! as the glorified behold His ways 
 Seen in the Mirror of Eternity, 
 It is the golden harp with bolder hand 
 To sweep, and swell the chorus of the Skies, 
 " All Holy ! Holy ! Holy ! is the Lord ! " 
 
 But if the Spirit's blessedness be such. 
 What of the body 1 — mortal tenement 
 (Mortal and frail), yet loved — oh! yes, how loved ! 
 Each feature pencilPd as with living light 
 On the Soul's tablets ineffaceable. 
 Smiles that can never die ! Say, can it be 
 
 THE EETEOSPECT. 
 
 23 
 
 That all now left of these is memory ? 
 
 Say, as thou stood'st amid the crowd of Mourners 
 
 Around the silent grave, busied each eye 
 
 Writing with tears a deeper epitaph 
 
 Than human hand e'er wrote or chisel traced \ 
 
 When the descending earth (as if it joined 
 
 With hollow voice to chaunt the requiem) 
 
 Drew the dull echo from the coffin-lid, 
 
 Proclaiming that the "dust had now return'd 
 
 To dust ! " Say, was that death-sound a farewell 
 
 That closed your eyes for ever on the form 
 
 You cherish'd once so fondly ? — God forbid! 
 
 That crumbling framework crumbles but to live ! 
 
 Immanuel's blood, which bought the Soul, has paid 
 
 The ransom of the body. Does not faith 
 
 The startling notes anticipate,— the trump 
 
 Which is to wake the echoes of the world, 
 
 And from their mansions, mould'ring in cold clay. 
 
 Evoke the slumb'ring myriads '? The dust 
 
 Of ages lives ! " With Immortality 
 
 The mortal's clothed," and " swallow'd up is Death 
 
 In Victory ! " The Body " sleeps^' yet not 
 
 In an eternal night— (cheerless extinction 
 
 That knows no morn !)-But like the chrysalis 
 
24 
 
 THE KETROSPECT. 
 
 Lying embedded in its torpid shell, 
 
 Escaping winter storms to burst anew 
 
 With wings expanded in the glorious light 
 
 Of an unclouded Summer; from the flowers 
 
 Which bloom unfading loveliness, to cull 
 
 Immortal fragrance ! Say not, then, that o'er 
 
 The dying moments of thy Friend was wept 
 
 A last adieu, and that the heavy word 
 
 " Farewell ! " w^as burden'd with the awful 
 
 thought, — 
 " This parting is for ever?'' Say not, there 
 Thou didst receive the closing look of love ; 
 And that the grasp which told of an affection 
 Death could not quench, was to be felt no more ! 
 No ! for these clay-cold lips with deathless smiles 
 Shall be relighted, and these rayless eyes ! 
 And with a glorious similitude 
 Each feature shall remind thee of earth's love, 
 With this distinction, that they cannot fade ! 
 Tliine ears, once more, shall listen to the voice 
 Wliose music soothed thee oft below, attuned 
 For higher themes and loftier minstrelsy ; 
 Hand link'd in hand, climbing the upward steep 
 Of Zion hill, with mutual joy recounting 
 
 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 25 
 
 Jehovah's dealings, since the day which sever'd 
 Earth's bonds of love. But, oh ! the rapt'rous Miss, 
 To think these bonds can now no more be broken ! 
 Exulting in espousals which can know 
 No dissolution ; underneath the throne 
 Bathed in the full-orb'd glory of your God ! 
 
 I love to think of this identity 
 Between the Saint on earth and Saint in heaven. 
 That soul and body (only glorified 
 And liberate from sin) shall rise the same 
 As once they moved while here ! Each holy trait 
 Which may adorn the character below,— 
 The tenderness and love of guileless nature,— 
 Shall not be lost, but made susceptible 
 Of infinite progression, shall attain 
 Their full development. That sacred glow 
 Of sensibility which shed on earth 
 A halo round the spirit:— warm emotions, 
 Once lavish'd on the creature of a day, — 
 Shall with increasing fervour gravitate 
 Towards the great Creator ! Intellect 
 With energies immortal, fathoming 
 Terfections infmite— Redeeming Love! 
 Uniting in the anthem-peal, whose thunders 
 
26 
 
 THE RETROSrECT. 
 
 Ten thousand times ten thousand voices swell, 
 « Worthy the Lamb ! " 
 
 Repose, then, Precious clay ! 
 Thou art in safer custody than mine, 
 The purchase of atoning blood ! What though 
 The sods of earth now cover thee, and rage 
 The elements around thee ? Angels watch 
 The sleeping dust ; nay. more, Omnipotence 
 Is th' invisible Guardian of thy tomb ! 
 Jesus ! The IVlighty Conqueror of Death, 
 Who feh its pow'r and pluck'd its sting away, 
 Drying our tears, addresses us in words 
 Which glow with immortality : " Fear not ! 
 For I am He that liveth and was dead. 
 Behold ! I am alive forevermore : 
 And in my hand retain the Keys of Death ! " 
 Then looking forward through the dim perspective 
 Of this dark Vale of weeping, let the eye 
 Rest on the splendours of that cloudless morn, 
 When the Archangel's pealing notes shall startle 
 A slumb'ring earth ; the Sea and Land restore 
 At the loud summons what they hold in trust, 
 And o'er a renovated world resound 
 The paeans of Eternal Victory ! 
 
 eljB Blau nf ^nrrntns. 
 
 Oh ! Blessed Solace ! 'Tis a Father's rod- 
 No rod of wrath, but of unchanging love. 
 No stroke inflicted which He could have spared! 
 Infinite Wisdom has with Love combined 
 To make the blow accomplish— and no more- 
 Its salutary End. A Father's rod ! 
 The thought represses ev'ry falling tear, 
 Checks ev'ry murmur, mitigates each pang. 
 Unerring parent! — Mourner! can you doubt 
 His Faithfulness 1 Then look to Calvary ! 
 Behold that bleeding, dying Lamb of God ! 
 'T was -love for Thee that sent Him from His 
 
 throne. 
 The bosom of Paternal love (whereon 
 His head was pillow'd from Eternity), 
 And nail'd Him there ! ' Twas love for thee evoked 
 The fearful summons from the lips of Justice : 
 "Awake, sword ! " and the avenging weapon 
 Refused to slumber in its sheath, till drench'd 
 
28 
 
 THE MAN OF SORROWS. 
 
 THE MAN OF SORROWS. 
 
 29 
 
 In blood to which Divinity gave worth ! 
 Omnipotence Itself (to speak with awe) 
 Could, of supreme affection, give no pledge 
 Richer than this. And dare we entertain 
 The thought, that He, whose nature and whose 
 
 name 
 Is Love, — could send us one superfluous pang, 
 Impose a needless burden, or permit 
 The thorn to pierce. He knew would pierce in 
 
 vain ? 
 That Cross becomes the blessed guarantee 
 That all is needed ! Mercy infinite 
 Prevents one drop from mingling in the cup 
 Which could have been withheld. Thou God of 
 
 Love ! 
 Vouchsafe us grace to bow beneath Thy Rod ; 
 And breathe (although it be through burning 
 
 tears, 
 And half-choked utterance) — " Thy will be done ! " 
 " Even so, Father ! for it seemeth good 
 To Thee ! '*'— And, oh ! forbid that whatsoe'er 
 Thy Wisdom may appoint, should from our hearts 
 Draw one repining or rebellious sigh. 
 " I will be dumb, and open not my mouth, 
 
 Because Thou didst it ! "—and it mustbe well— 
 "Although Thou slay me, yet I'll trust in Thee ! " 
 
 Oh ! Holy I^Ian of Sorrows ! dare I breathe 
 One murmuring sentence? What this Cross of 
 
 mine 
 Beside that Cross Thou didst endure for me ? 
 A few brief tears and transient sufferings 
 Compose my sum of trials ; but Thy woes 
 Claim, as exponents. Mighty drops of Blood ! 
 Unanswerable challenge from the lips 
 Of the Almightiest of all Sufferers, 
 '• Was ever any sorrow like to Mine ? " 
 Atllicted Mourner ! bitter though the cup 
 Which thou art call'd to drink — " consider Him " 
 Who drain'd the wine-cup of His Father's wTath ; 
 Wliilst from His anguish'd Soul was wrung the cry 
 Which robed the Sun in sackcloth, and made Earth 
 Affrighted heave convulsive to her core. 
 As if her pillars trembled to support 
 The Cross where hung her Maker ! What are 
 The complex suff 'rings of a suffering world? 
 Dust in the balance when compared to this ! 
 Mournful howe'er thy history, although 
 
80 
 
 THE MAN OF SORROWS. 
 
 THE MAN OF SORROWS. 
 
 31 
 
 li 
 
 rii 
 
 ^Tis written {like the plaintive prophet's roll) 
 In characters of mourning and of woe, 
 Telling of rifled households — aching hearts — 
 The tear scarce dried when calPd to flow again ; — 
 Yet, what thy gloomiest seasons, when compared 
 With the Cimmerian darkness which impall'd 
 His agonised bosom] — when the Sun 
 Of Deity was shrouded in eclipse, 
 And hid the countenance which from Eternity 
 Beam'd love ineflable ! Oh, Child of God ! 
 Ne'er can there issue from thy quiv'ring lips 
 The anguish'd cry which once arose from-//is — 
 "Tlii/ God! why thus hast Thou forsaken Me ? '' 
 
 Yes, Mourner ! thou hast still thy Cov'nant God. 
 Die whoe'er may, He lives! — That thought is 
 
 bliss ! 
 Amid the ruins of thine Earthly joys, 
 This portion still survives — Omnipotence ! 
 And surely, with a portion such as this. 
 Thou need'st no other ! Blessed compensation ! 
 When the Eternal God the cistern shivers, 
 That He, the blessed Fountain-head, may come 
 To take its place, and be the " All in all ! " 
 
 Behold, there sits upon the throne of Heaven 
 A sj-mpathising "Kinsman ! " Not a pang 
 Can rend thy bosom, but He felt tiie same ! 
 In all thy sufl^erings, think that " Jesus suff'er'd ! '• 
 In all thy tears, remember " Jesus Wept ! " 
 Rejoice— the pulses of that Mighty Heart 
 Upwards in glory, vibrate to ihine own 
 Responsive; and though inaccessible 
 He sits enthroned, and myriad ransom'd ones. 
 Casting their blood-bought crowns before His feet, 
 Swell the loud anthem, '• Worthy is the Lamb ! " 
 Vet undergoes no change that Heart of Love, 
 Nor, 'mid the blaze of glory, can forget 
 One Pilgrim Suflferer ! Those eyes that shed 
 O'er human grave a flood of human tears, 
 Still look with pity on this desert world ; 
 And Bethany's Chief Mourner still is thine ! 
 
 Go ! search the catalogue of human woes, 
 And say what Cross there can be laid on thee, 
 The Man of Sorrows felt not? Calumny— 
 Reproach — Ingratitude — the death of loved — 
 The treachery of trusted followers — 
 Faithless desertion of His tried disciples, 
 
32 
 
 THE MAN OF SORROWS. 
 
 THE MAN OF SORROWS. 
 
 3S 
 
 When iicedecl most. Behold Him forced to beg 
 A cup of Water from the profligate ^ 
 
 H^ ransom'd with His blood ! See Poverty " 
 His only birthright ! Houseless wanderer ! 
 Oft His nnpillow'd head denied repose. 
 While foxes had their holes — the birds their 
 
 nests — 
 Oft was the mount His home, His couch the sod, 
 His canopy the Sky! — Behold His Soul, 
 Bowing in anguish underneath a woe 
 Tongue cannot tell, when o'er him burst a cloud 
 Surcharged and blacken'd with His " Father's " 
 
 wrath ! 
 Behold Him nail'd in anguish to the Tree ! 
 Mark the convulsive throb — the closing eye — 
 The quiv'ring lip — and the expiring groan ! 
 Messiah dies ! — Is not the hour of death 
 Thus sanctified by Death's great Conqueror, 
 Who, as he vanquish'd, felt Himself the sting 
 He died to pluck away? Who, then, can dread 
 To meet the foe their Lord hath overcome 1 
 Who on the willows of the grave can hang 
 His Harp disconsolate ? Tuned are its chords 
 By this Almighty Sufferer, to w^ords 
 
 Whose sweetest melody in this consists, 
 
 That He that path has trod ! : — " Yea, though 
 
 the Vale 
 Of death alone I tread— (yet not alone, 
 For Thou art with me) — I shall fear no ill; 
 Thy rod and staff shall comfort me ! " 
 
 I love 
 To think, as King of kings, upon the Throne 
 Of Universal Empire seated is 
 The God-Man Mediator!- With the Roll 
 Of Mystic Providence committed safe 
 Into HIS hands ! In all His vast domain 
 Nothing too great to be beyond His sway. 
 Nothing too mean to be beneath His care ! 
 Wliile it is He who wheels in reahns of ether 
 Worlds upon worlds j gives to the wand'ring 
 
 comet 
 Its tortuous course, tracking immensity. 
 In cycles measuring a thousand years ; 
 'Tis He who " feeds the ravens when they cry," 
 Pencils the hue of ev'ry desert flower; 
 Its summer verdure upon ev'ry blade 
 Of grass bestows ; of ev'ry forest leaf 
 
 3 
 
34 
 
 THE MAN OF SOEEOWS. 
 
 THE MAN OF SOEROWS. 
 
 35 
 
 i I 
 
 The fall He watches ; and of ev'ry pulse 
 
 He marks the beat ! The swarming myriads 
 
 In boundless space each movement owe to Him, 
 
 From the small insect fluttering in the breeze, 
 
 Up to the waving of the Angels' wings 
 
 Before the Throne ! Away ! ye votaries 
 
 That raise your altar to an " Unknown God ! " 
 
 Ye deify as Chance and Accident, 
 
 And call His will " inexorable fate ! " 
 
 There is no chance-work in the oracle 
 
 Of Righteous Heaven ! — Each high behest comes 
 
 forth 
 The Ordination and Supreme decree 
 Of Wisdom, Love, and Mercy infinite ! 
 The Parent mourns his Child's untimely end 
 With aching heart; — the idol of his bosom 
 Snatch'd from him in the twinkling of an eye ! 
 Was it the lightning-flash that struck him down? 
 Traced was the lightning's winged path by God ! 
 Was it the waves engulph'd him ? Every billow 
 RolPd at the bidding of Omnipotence ! 
 Was it disease that hurried him away ? 
 The worm unseen which sapped the treasured 
 
 gourd, 
 
 Was sent by Him ! This is the history 
 
 Of every death: "The suffering Grod ordain'd— 
 
 Prepared the sable shroud — and dug the grave ! " 
 
 Our times are in His hands, and at the hour 
 
 He thinks befitting, but no sooner, He 
 
 Our Breath recalls. — 'Tis His prerogative 
 
 To do with us and ours as pleaseth Him ; 
 
 We could not be in safer custody. 
 
 Jesus our Shepherd ! — choosing us our pasture, 
 
 Selecting with unerring faithfulness 
 
 And tender love, for each their earthly lot. 
 
 Left to ourselves, how oft might we incline 
 
 To choose the evil and refuse the good ! 
 
 Christian ! rejoice that though His way may seem 
 
 Often mysterious, as He led His Saints 
 
 Of old, He leads thee still, in faithfulness. 
 
 Trust Him in darkness ! He will vindicate 
 
 All his procedure, and receive at last 
 
 The homage from ten thousand thousand tongues, 
 
 " Righteous art Thou ! Lord ! " 
 
 Exalted Jesus I 
 Wielding Creation's sceptre, unto whom 
 Can I commit my everlasting all. 
 
36 
 
 THE MAN OF SORROWS. 
 
 • 
 
 If not to Thee ? How wondrously uniting 
 
 Divinity with Human tenderness ! 
 
 While myriad Angels from Eternity 
 
 Adored Thee, fearless in Thine arms there smiled 
 
 The helpless Babe ! Amid a varying world, 
 
 Thyself alone continuing unchanged ; 
 
 Among the faithless, Faithful to the last ! 
 
 ^* Thou, for Adversity the Brother born," 
 
 " The Friend that cleaveth closer than a Brother ! " 
 
 His not a formal world's cold interchange 
 
 Of sympathy (unworthy of the name) ; 
 
 Into our every sorrow He can enter 
 
 With sensibilities none else can feel. 
 
 Oh ! blessed thought ! ImmanuePs heart combines 
 
 The Might of Godhead with Humanity 
 
 In all its tenderness. The God who counts 
 
 The number of the stars, can also count 
 
 The number of my sorrows, for Himself 
 
 Has felt them all ! The mightiest of all Beings 
 
 Is thus the kindest ! I can upwards look 
 
 In trembling transport to His throne, and say, 
 
 " God ! yet my Brother ! Brother ! yet my God ! '' 
 
 t fntirt 
 
 God 18 a Jealous God, and cannot give 
 
 His Glory to another ! Earthly love 
 
 Must be subordinate to that of Heaven, 
 
 Or else must die ! The throne of the affections 
 
 Must be surrender'd to the King of kings, 
 
 And can admit no rival occupant j 
 
 Omnipotence must legislate supreme. 
 
 And be the All in All ! The earthly Gourd 
 
 It is permitted thee to cherish fondly, 
 
 But not too fondly; — to be glad for it; 
 
 But warning accents from the blighted booth 
 
 Of Nineveh, forbid thee to be glad 
 
 " Exceedingly." If treasured as the pledge 
 
 Of thy Creator's love, then all is well ; 
 
 The boon attains the end for which bestow'd,— 
 
 The Giver glorified ! But when it tends 
 
 (ST) 
 
38 
 
 THE GOURD. 
 
 THE GOUBD. 
 
 39 
 
 To alienate affections which are His, 
 SeaPd is its doom, and bows the cumberer 
 Before the wing6d sentence, " Cut it down ! " 
 How oft, in one brief day, the canker-worm 
 Has thus perform'd its work, and round the bower 
 Of earthly bliss lie strewn the sad rebukes 
 Of overweening love — the withered blossoms 
 Cherish'd too fondly ! Traitor to thy trust ! 
 Thou didst receive thy Gourd to draw thee 
 
 upwards j 
 It wedded thee to earth, and therefore fell ! 
 Thou must be taught by the severest lessons. 
 That God permits of no competing love : — 
 " The idol must be utterly abolish'd ! " 
 
 How many bleeding bosoms have been opened 
 By these clay-idols, Dagons that must fall 
 Before the ark ! Unless we rather choose 
 (Fearful alternative !) that God give place 
 To these our Dagons, and thus forfeit Heav'n 
 For some poor child of ^ust. Christian ! rejoice. 
 That the decision of this question lies 
 Not with thyself; or else, alas ! how oft 
 Imperishable interests would be made 
 
 Do homage at some shrine of creature-love !— 
 The altar kiss of some clay-deity, 
 And barter iiimiortality for Time ! 
 
 Thy Gourd has fallen ! Yet had its kindly shade 
 Been spared for future years to bless thy bower, 
 It would have lived but only to decay. 
 Those bursting buds and blossoms, early plucked 
 ( Say not too early), would at last have dropp'd 
 As withered flowers. Let the Great Husbandman 
 Select the time to take His own ; and if 
 For transplantation He may deem it fit. 
 Before the chilling frosts of life have nipp'd it, 
 Would'st thou retain it longer in the blasts 
 Of an ungenial clime ? Be thine to praise Him, 
 That, in selecting for the severing blow. 
 He took the ripest for Himself. The tree 
 Mark'd for the axe was not the cumberer — 
 The leafless, fruitless, unproductive one. 
 Fit fuel for the fire : No,— /t is spared 
 (In mercy spared), to see if, peradventure, 
 The sharp incisions of the pruning-knife 
 May fructify its boughs. 'Tis the exotic 
 Which has been taken to a kindlier soil, 
 
-"T 
 
 40 
 
 THE GOUKD. 
 
 THE GOURD. 
 
 41 
 
 To bloom unfading in far happier climes, 
 Where tempest is unknown ! Think of the storms 
 That tender sapling has in love been saved ; 
 Although, perchance, unfretted vrith a cloud 
 Up to the hour it fell ; who could predict 
 What might be brooding in the far horizon, — 
 What travailings and sorrows might be pent 
 Within the womb of Time ? Who could foretell 
 That ere to-morrow's sun had run his race, 
 Some hurricane, now slumb'ring, forth might 
 
 speed 
 In giant might, its footsteps track'd with woe, 
 Blighting all loveliness ; reminding us 
 That cloudless sunshine trusted cannot be 
 On this side Heav'n ? 
 
 Then weep not ; but alike 
 Adore a " taking " and a " giving " God. 
 Deem not these blossoms prematurely pluck'd. 
 Let those who make this fleeting earth their all, 
 And its horizon bound their happiness, 
 Talk of untimely Graves ! No flower can drop 
 Too soon, if ripe for glory. Early pluck'd, 
 Is early bliss. If the great clock of time 
 
 Has in life's dawn of morning toll'd its knell, 
 And number'd earthly hours, it hastens Heaven. 
 An early death-bed is an early Crown ! 
 Now unfulfiU'd one wish alone remains, — 
 That those beloved on earth, endear'd by bonds 
 Defying dissolution, left behind 
 To rough the winter's blast, may soon arise, 
 The deathless glory of the soul to share, 
 " Not lost, but gone before." 
 
 Often methinks 
 Upon the striking contrast in the way 
 That Earth and Heaven the closing scene of death 
 Regard. On Earth, — a spectacle of tears ! 
 Bedew'd each cheek, and swollen every eye 3 
 In speechless agony, each knee is bent 
 Round the saint's couch, importunate for life, 
 While still life's pulses beat. In Heaven^ — a 
 
 prayer 
 Is utter'd also for the dying one 
 By mightier than mortal Intercessor ; 
 Immanuel pleads ; but His is not the prayer 
 For an extension of the transient breath ; 
 He pleads for life immortal as His own. 
 
42 
 
 THE GOUED. 
 
 While from below ascend the burden'd sighs 
 
 Of weeping relatives, ^tis thus He prays : 
 
 " Father, I will ! " (Oh ! blessed thought ! it is 
 
 The will of dying, ever-living love ! 
 
 Wlio would not trust it, if they cannot trace?) 
 
 " Father, I will this dying sufferer 
 
 I have redeem'd, be with Me where I am. 
 
 To share the glory Thou hast given Me." 
 
 The prayer is heard ! Omnipotence responds— 
 
 "Son, Thou art ever with Me, all I have 
 
 Is Thine." To execute the embassy, 
 
 Eager, a glorious retinue attend. 
 
 « Go, Angels, — speed ye to the dying pillow, 
 
 And waft the spirit into Abraham's bosom ! " 
 
 Say, Mourner, wouldst thou have preferred tnat 
 heard 
 Had been the prayer of Earth, or that of Heaven? 
 Eternal bliss deferr'd, or realised ? 
 The Cross continued, or the Kingdom wonT 
 Warfare protracted, or eternal rest ? 
 Keep in abeyance selfish love, and say 
 Wouldst thou arrest these bright celestials. 
 As up they bear their trophy to the skies, 
 
 THE GOUED. 
 
 43 
 
 
 And bring him back to earth? Couldst thou 
 
 entreat • 
 The Righteous Intercessor to revoke 
 This wondrous " will," and at the gate of Heaven, 
 When Victory was bursting on his lips. 
 Recall the sainted Pilgrim, to resume 
 The din of Battle, and the Vale of Tears? 
 
 '4 
 
** 
 
 €^t fmmt 
 
 Your fiery trials, followers of Him 
 
 Who was "the Man of Sorrows," deem not strange. 
 
 " No Cross, no Crown ! " the motto still remains 
 
 Of every Pilgrim ; and the oracle 
 
 Of Heaven is unrepeal'd: — "Deny thyself, 
 
 Take up thy Cross, and daily follow Me." 
 
 'Tis in affliction's furnace, as of old. 
 
 He loves to choose His people ; and although 
 
 These desolating trials may appear 
 
 To the unthinking crowd inexplicable, 
 
 Like the mysterious column, whose red glow 
 
 Illumed of old the desert wilderness 
 
 To cov'nant Israel, but lent no ray 
 
 Of guiding light to the pursuing hosts 
 
 Of Egypt, — so before a wond'ring world. 
 
 Mystic and dark, the dealings of our God 
 
 Are bright with mercy to His chosen ones, 
 
 (44) 
 
 THE rUENACE. 
 
 45 
 
 The emanations of eternal love. 
 
 Yes ! Blessed Lord, Thy preciousness and grace 
 
 Ne'er can the Christian estimate, till brought 
 
 To taste the bitter cup of earthly sorrow. 
 
 Thy Promises how wondrous ! Like the stars 
 
 Sparkling as jewels on the brow of Night, 
 
 Invisible until the orb of day 
 
 Sinks in his couch. So not until the Sun 
 
 Of fondly-treasured comforts disappear, 
 
 The firmament of Truth a galaxy 
 
 Displays of brilliant promises, which, like 
 
 The glow-worm, shine most brightly in the dark. 
 
 Bereaved Mourner ! call'd to take thy stand 
 Amid the scorching flames, didst thou not see 
 " One in the Furnace like the Son of God," 
 Whose gracious presence caused thee pass un- 
 scathed 
 The fiery ordeal ? Approach'd, perchance. 
 Trembling with awe, like those who "fear'd to 
 
 enter " 
 The cloud on Tabor j yet, on ent'ring it, 
 What sights and sounds burst on their ravished 
 senses ! 
 
46 
 
 THE FURNACE. 
 
 i\ 
 
 A Glorified Redeemer! — vista-views 
 
 Of bliss! — each tongue exclaiming, "Lord, His 
 
 good 
 For us to linger here ! " So oft when calPd 
 To climb the Mount of Trial, hast thou not 
 Refreshing hours enjoy'd, ev'n in the cloud 
 That frown'd in terror o'er thee ? Did not here 
 There burst on thee in bright apocalypse 
 Resplendent visions of redeeming grace, 
 The antepast of Heaven ; and made thee feel 
 Almost in love with grief, because unfolding 
 So much more of thy God ? The countenance 
 Of earthly relatives may be withdrawn, 
 As was the voice of the twin delegates 
 On Tabor's Mount ; but, like the '- Three," thou hast 
 Thy Best Friend left. Dissolv'd though human ties, 
 Jesus along with thee the Mount descends, 
 Vouchsafing fellowship that knows no change. 
 And love that cannot die (consoling words !) — 
 " Lo ! ' I am with you, to the end of Time ! ^ " 
 
 Fear thou not, then, this Furnace, for HE lightpi 
 
 it. 
 
 Not to destroy, but only to refine ; 
 
 THE FURNACE. 
 
 47 
 
 To purify the gold, and purge away 
 
 The dross, and fit for glory. Wondrous thought ! 
 
 The Great Refiner seated by the Fires, 
 
 Temp'ring their fury ! Few amid the throng 
 
 Of ransom'd spirits have not felt their power. 
 
 Go upwards ; pass along their bright array, 
 
 And let the Blood-bought myriads themselves 
 
 Bear living testimony. One can tell : 
 
 " Once was I ruining my precious Soul ; 
 
 Eternity was barter'd for the baubles 
 
 Of a vain, transient world. God struck me down , 
 
 Blighted my prospects, wither'd up my gourds, 
 
 Laid my clay-idols in their mother dust, 
 
 And o'er the precincts of a happy home 
 
 Spread the eclipse of Death ! ' Deep call'd to 
 
 deep.' 
 Tear follow'd tear, as wave succeeds to wave j 
 But 'All is well.' Each trial did but sever 
 The earthly tie, to rivet me to Heaven — 
 Shiver'd the reed, to bring me to the Rock, 
 And give to God Himself the creature's place ! " 
 Another one can tell : " I lov'd my Gold ; 
 Deified Riches — made my idol Mammon: 
 God wrote its Verdict : ' Gold which perisheth ! 
 
 I 
 
48 
 
 THE FUENACE. 
 
 THE FUENACE. 
 
 4» 
 
 It mock'd the hand which grasp'd it ; but its loss 
 
 Led me to value treasure which no time 
 
 Corrodes, nor moth corrupts j laid up in Christ 
 
 ' Riches unsearchable ' beyond the wealth 
 
 Of worlds ! " Another there can tell : " The Sun 
 
 Of Earth too brightly shone, and with false glow 
 
 The lustre intercepted of a land 
 
 Whose atmosphere is love. Upon a couch 
 
 Of languishing God laid me ; weary days 
 
 And nights of pain were mine. Now for each 
 
 stroke 
 I praise Him ! It was needful discipline — 
 To wean my spirit from the shadowy dreams 
 Of a vain world. The Harp which when on Earth, 
 Broken with sorrow, hung upon the willows 
 Tuneless and mute, I now rejoice to sweep 
 Its new-strung chords, to own the faithfulness 
 And love which wrung each tear-drop from my 
 
 eye ! " 
 
 Exceptions rare there may, indeed, be found 
 To this appointed discipline of Heaven. 
 Some gentle spirit purified for bliss, 
 Not in the Fire, but by the " still small voice " 
 
 Of love, a Jewel for Immanuel's crown 
 Prepared. Of old, when Salem's Temple rose 
 In strange majestic silence, " neither hammer 
 Nor sound of axe, nor other tool, was heard " 
 Within the stately fabric : So at times 
 The hammer of affliction scarce the stone 
 May feel, and yet 'tis polish'd and made meet 
 For the Great Builder's use ; the spirit wafted, 
 Like Israel's prophet in his car of fire. 
 Upwards to glory, tasting scarce the pangs 
 Of human woe ! Unwonted case ! to reach 
 The heavenly goal uncover'd with the scars 
 Of Earthly Battle ! Christian Combatant ! 
 The conflict is unchanged. Who would the path 
 Of suffering avoid his Saviour trod, 
 Or claim immunity from woe, when HE 
 Attain'd His crown with "garments roU'd in 
 blood " ? 
 
 Nowhere canst thou so magnify thy God 
 As in the Furnace-fires ! Submissive tears 
 Wrung from the grieved yet unrepining heart, 
 In silent eloquence proclaim the power 
 Of Christian faith; — a living evidence 
 
 ' 
 
50 
 
 THE FURNACE. 
 
 To an ungodly world, that Gospel peace 
 
 Is no vague theory. Mourner in Zion ! 
 
 In this thou hast a mean of glorifying 
 
 The Lord who loved thee angels cannot have. 
 
 Meek acquiescence is a grace unknown 
 
 In Heav'n, where trial enters not. No cup 
 
 Of anguish'd sorrow there to drink, no tears 
 
 Through which with murmuring lips to breathe, 
 
 " Father, Thy will be done ! " Oh, may'st thou not 
 
 (If thy submission has one Sinner led 
 
 To magnify the grace which thee sustained 
 
 So wondrously) with humble praise rejoice ? 
 
 And, looking forward to Eternity, 
 
 Would not thy sorest tribulations prove 
 
 Their own best recompence, if, through the years 
 
 Of never-ending bliss, one voice were heard 
 
 To own that these thy Sorrows, sanctified, 
 
 Had proved the means of leading it to Heaven ? 
 
 Mine be the Cross, however hard to bear ! 
 Oh, shall I not be willing to endure 
 Whate'er my God sees meet ? How many plants 
 Before emitting fragrance must be bruised ? 
 So must the soul. Endure I rather would 
 
 THE FURNACE. 
 
 51 
 
 The sharpest cuttings of the pruning-knife — 
 Be stripp'd of all" I have, than "left alone," 
 Abandon'd Cumberer ! Yes, rather far 
 Encounter fiercest hurricanes, than have 
 The bark which bears immortal destinies 
 Lull'd in the treach'rous calm, and sufTer'd there 
 To sleep upon its shadows — fearful prelude 
 To an eternal tempest ! Welcome storm 
 Which sends the Christian Pilot to his knees, 
 And, in a midnight of tempestuous gloom, 
 Directs the eye of faith, with longing gaze, 
 Upon the Star of Bethlehem ! 'Twas not 
 Until the wind roused in tumultuous wrath 
 Gennesaret, the faithless mariners 
 Importunate awoke their sleeping Lord, 
 And forth the fiat of Omnipotence 
 Lull'd every angry wave. Oh ! blessed end 
 Of sanctified affliction ; brought to call 
 Upon our Heavenly Pilot, and to listen 
 The Almighty Mandate, " Peace ; be still ! " 
 
 This reconciles to every tempest-shock : 
 " Each crested billow wafts me nearer rest ! " 
 Safe in that haven which no wave disturbs. 
 
62 
 
 THE FURNACE. 
 
 The retrospect of life's disquietudes 
 
 Will then unfold a " need be " in each storm, — 
 
 Unmingled mercy in each falling tear. 
 
 Yes, gracious, precious drops ! I grudge not one ; 
 
 Dimming the eye to a dark land of Shadows, 
 
 But bright with sunshine from a tearless world, 
 
 Where the same gentle hand which made them 
 
 flow 
 In tenderness shall wipe them all away ! 
 
 Then shall the lacerating thorn be weaved 
 Amid the dearest laurels of my crown ; 
 The brightest gem which sparkles there shall own 
 Affliction's polish ; and th' Eternal Song 
 Shall louder, deeper, and still deeper roll 
 By reason of such sorrows, whose existence, 
 Weigh'd in the Scales of Immortality, 
 Shall then appear but light and momentary. 
 And an amount of glory "working out," 
 Beyond what "eye hath seen or heart conceived." 
 
 €^t lolttfL 
 
 When through the desert's arid wastes of old 
 Journey'd the tribes of Israel, with what strains 
 Of gratitude the fainting thousands hail'd 
 Elim's twelve fountains ! Undemeath the shade 
 Of the umbrageous palm (Nature's own tent) 
 They bathed their parched brows. From every 
 
 tongue 
 Arose the hymn of praise. The cloudy pillar 
 Conducted once the parched host beside 
 One brook less favour'd. Yet, though only onCj 
 Elim's twelve fountains often seem'd forgotten. 
 While Marah linger'd in ungrateful hearts. 
 Bereaved Christian ! has thy Covenant God 
 Placed thee beside some Marah ; caused thee drink 
 Some stream of earthly woe ? Say, shall one draught 
 Of bitter trial bury in oblivion 
 The record of past mercies, — rill on rill 
 
 (53) 
 
 I 
 
54 
 
 THE SOLACE. 
 
 THE SOLACE. 
 
 55 
 
 ■it 
 
 Of providential bounties which were made 
 
 To cheer thy path ? Oh ! rather while thou sitt'st 
 
 In solitary sadness brooding o'er 
 
 Thy brook of Sorrow, let thy memory dwell 
 
 On the ten thousand wells of earthly bliss 
 
 Which crowd life's retrospect : the Ebenezers, 
 
 Each with its own inscription, testifying 
 
 To God's unchanging faithfulness and mercy. 
 
 Yes ; while thy Marah has been only owe, 
 
 Are not thine Elims many ? And instead 
 
 Of wond'ring at His dealings, rather wonder 
 
 The past should teem with pledges of such love 
 
 All undeserved ! For if His thoughts had been 
 
 As are thy thoughts, His ways as are thy ways, 
 
 How different its annals ! Oh ! if sin 
 
 Received its due, thy tears would never dry ; 
 
 If justice had been laid unto the line. 
 
 There had been weeping which eternity 
 
 Could ne'er have ended ! 
 
 Hush'd, then, be thy grief. 
 What, after all, the heaviest of thy pangs ? 
 There might have beat within thy deathless spirit 
 The pulse of Immortality undone, 
 
 And thine awaking from the bed of death 
 Have been in outer darkness ! Pause and think • 
 Thou might'st have drunk the Marah of despair, 
 The gall and wormwood mingling in its streams ! 
 Fear not the Marah-fountain, which, in love, 
 Thy God appoints thee. As His pillar led 
 The hosts of Israel thitherf be assured, 
 For some high purpose has He brought thee there. 
 And if thou wouldst, like Israel, transmute 
 From bitter into sweet this pool of sorrow. 
 Cast in the Tree of Life ! Oh ! blessed antidote 
 To every bitter cup and bitter hour ! 
 Jesus ! one ray of Thine approving smile 
 Can change the gloom of midnight into day, 
 And make the gate of death the gate of Heaven ! 
 
 But does no solace still remain to cheer, 
 Mourner, thine alter'd lot ? What ! has the scourge, 
 The besom of destruction, left behind 
 No earthly comfort to support the heart 
 So rudely swept ? And art thou doom'd to sit 
 Brooding disconsolate amid the dust 
 And ashes of thy woe ? Nay ; while thou tunest 
 Thy mournful Lyre to sing in plaintive strains 
 
56 
 
 THE SOLACE. 
 
 THE SOLACE. 
 
 57 
 
 Of Judgment, thou canst sing of Mercy too ! 
 Ne'er does the heart, till wounded, prize its bless- 
 ings. 
 One rill has dried, one source (perchance the chief) 
 Of earthly pleasure suddenly has faiPd ; 
 But streams before unthought of, unobserved 
 And unacknowledged^claim thy gratitude. 
 While one beloved tie has been dissever'd, 
 Are there not hallow'd friendships still surviving, 
 To mitigate thy sorrows 1 precious bonds, 
 Approximating closer by each loss 
 Of broken links 1 Are there not many drops 
 Of mercy mingled in thy draught, enough 
 To check each rising murmur, and to tell 
 How much severer might have been thy pangs 
 Had God so will'd ? Consider how He might 
 Have mix'd the cup with anguish, far beyond 
 The reach of tears — refusing sympathy ! 
 Ah ! there are speechless sorrows, cutting wounds, 
 Too deep for solace ! — lacerated hearts 
 Bleeding in secret over woes they dare not 
 Confide to earthly ears ; and, worst of all, 
 There is the heaviest of affliction's pangs, 
 The pang of watching by the dying couch. 
 
 At which you dare not feel " To die is gain." 
 
 The hopes of Immortality proscribed ! 
 
 The Spirit ent'ring the realities 
 
 Of an undone eternity. Dread thought ! 
 
 A thousand deaths (if the sweet sleep of Saints 
 
 Can be so called) is nothing to one such ! 
 
 Mourner in Zion, then, be comforted : 
 Thou hast no cause to weep for the departed. 
 Mourn not their loss ; rejoice thou in their gain ; 
 For they are to be envied who have fallen 
 " Asleep in Jesus." Earthly ties are broken. 
 Only to draw thee nearer to the Skies, 
 By everlasting cords of sacred love. 
 Leading affection to associate 
 Sweetly in thought a glorified Redeemer 
 With those now at His side ! Repose on Him 
 Who still vouchsafes unnumber'd benefits. 
 The Hand that smites is able, too, to heal ; 
 And in His very smiting there is all 
 A Father's tenderness. Thy cup is still 
 Full to the brim with blessings infinite ; 
 " Double for all thy sins, thou hast received. " 
 Adore Him for the past, and for the future 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 i 
 
58 
 
 THE SOLACE. 
 
 Cheerfully trust Him. Thou hadst but a loan, — 
 No more ; and if the Great Proprietor 
 Sees meet the boon He lent thee to recall, 
 Becomes it thee to murmur ? Rather own 
 His undeserved kindness, that thou art 
 Preserved from day to day, and hour to hour, 
 The monument of God's forbearing love ; 
 That He has not, ere now, pronounced against 
 
 thee 
 The Cumb'rer's sentence and his awful doom. 
 With righteous vengeance, " Swearing in His 
 
 wrath 
 That thou shouldst never enter into Rest ! " 
 
 t Crntttn. 
 
 Oh ! blessed Morn, Creation's Jubilee ! 
 The Bridal hour of a triumphant Church ! 
 Birthday of endless glory ! when the roll 
 Of earthly Providence shall be unfolded 
 Before a wond'ring Heaven ; and '" in Thy light, 
 God ! we shall see light." The Night of weeping 
 Lost in the splendours of a perfect Day ! 
 Floods of surpassing lustre pour'd upon 
 Dealings inscrutable ! The retrospect 
 Of life's vicissitudes replete with love 
 And cov'nant faithfulness. Each burden'd tear 
 Acknowledged needful discipline ! The cloud 
 Whose black'ning front portended while below 
 Nothing but angry tempest, proved to be 
 Surcharged alone with mercy in disguise ; 
 The wheels of Providence revolving nought 
 But good ! Each aspect of Jehovah's ways 
 Causing the heart to bound with holier joy, 
 The tongue to thrill with louder notes of praise — 
 
 (59) 
 
60 
 
 THE CROWN. 
 
 An ever-deepening anthem ; like the song 
 Heard by the Seer of Patmos j as Eternity, 
 With its unending ages onward rolls, 
 The Hallelujah, syllabled in whispers, 
 Increases to a deep harmonious swell — 
 " The voice of many people ; " deeper still — 
 Till, like "the sound of a Great Multitude;" 
 And yet still deeper — like the gushing noise 
 " Of many waters ; " till the augmenting chorus 
 Equals the roar of " mighty thunderings," 
 And onward rolls the pealing " Alleluia ! 
 Amen ! Omnipotent Jehovah reigns ! " 
 
 " There shall be No Night there ! " Oh, cheer- 
 ing thought ! 
 No night of Ignorance — which oft on Earth 
 Gives birth to unbelief, and makes the heart 
 Refuse to bow submissive to the Rod, 
 And own its just infliction, because seen 
 Through a distorted medium ! There shall be 
 No night of Sorrow there ; no bleeding hearts ; 
 No sudden blighting of life's fairest prospects : 
 No chilling penury to freeze its bliss ! 
 Tear-drops all dried, and anguish all forgotten; 
 
 THE CROWN. 
 
 61 
 
 Or, if remember'd, only like a dream 
 Or feverish vision of some sleepless hour; 
 The recollection of the night of woe 
 Enhancing all the more the joys of morn ! 
 No night of Death is there ; no sever'd ties ; 
 No rifled households, and no sad farewells ; 
 No tear of Widowhood to dim the eye ; 
 No open'd graves. No night of Sin is there ; 
 No more corruptions chaining down the soul, 
 Hamp'ring its energies, the fertile cause 
 Of all the sufferings of a suffering world. 
 Which makes the Christian Pilgrim feel his path. 
 From first to last, a toilsome battle-field — , 
 No rest till Death discharge him. But in Heaven 
 The trumpet peal is mute. The warrior there 
 His armour cast aside — the conflict's done — 
 The Victory achieved ! Faith lost in sight. 
 And Hope in full fruition ! This, for Ever ! 
 Oh, wondrous words ! Glory to know no end ! 
 Oceans of Joy, unbounded by a shore ! 
 For Ever ! 'Tis Eternity ! — " the life-time 
 Of the Almighty ! " — Christian, thine existence is 
 Commensurate with that of God Himself ! 
 One Endless Sabbath — and that Sabbath — Love! 
 
62 
 
 THE CROWN. 
 
 Teach me to live the heir of such a world : 
 Thankful to bear my Cross for such a Crown ; 
 Content to steer the shatter'd bark of life 
 To reach a port like this. And though the past 
 With warning voice prepares me to expect 
 The night of trial here ; yet still let Faith, 
 Stretching her eye beyond life's dim horizon, 
 Rest on the brighter shores, and many mansions. 
 And better Friend above ! Be this my beacon. 
 Wooing me onwards, buffeting the storm — 
 "Mourner, there is no night of Trial there ! '^ 
 
 But who can dare to lift the hidden veil 
 Inscrutable, which hides from mortal gaze 
 That festival of bliss ? " Eye hath not seen, 
 Nor ear hath heard, nor human heart conceived " 
 Its wonders. God himself the " All in All ! " 
 The focus of a Light ineffable, 
 To which, the origin and end of all, 
 Each lesser ray of glory will converge. 
 The myriad blood-bought worshippers engaged 
 In pondering His searchless attributes, 
 Or mystic secrets of Incarnate love. 
 For, lo ! in midst of the Eternal Throne, 
 
 THE CROWN. 
 
 63 
 
 Stands there " a Lamb as if it had been slain ! " 
 Its scars and blood-rharks eloquently speak 
 To an adoring Heaven ! The ransom'd throng 
 Scaling its heights and fathoming its deeps, 
 Unfolding new discoveries of grace 
 And mercy infinite ! The mighty Problem 
 Still unexplored and inexplorable. 
 Elicits the confession — " Oh, the depth ! " 
 
 Oh ! come, sweet heavenly dawn ! bright day 
 of peace, 
 A halcyon reign of cloudless, tearless bliss ! 
 One everlasting summer, with no winter ! 
 No killing frosts to mock the reaper's hopes. 
 Or mar his joyous song ! One endless morning, 
 Stranger to night ! Each ransom'd spirit, like 
 Some peerless orb of light, up climbing high 
 A boundless fimianit^Rt, t>ut HeJeiS-at^aiif \ \ /• 
 Its full meridian,!* 'O^ke tXre6. of Life '. ••' ! •' "• 
 Waving immortal fragrance, ancj i^s fr^it? , , , , , 
 Perennial! EachlfoJ-nvorji ■vyarrloj' /••/, I *.' 
 Of earth, his forenead laving with the stream 
 Which rolls its crystal \v;^t^rs; from &e Ti;rohe»' 
 Of God and of thfe, Laftilt, .thete' washing off ^ 
 
64 
 
 THE CKOWN. 
 
 The blood and dust of battle, and exchanging 
 The Pilgrim armour for the Pilgrim rest ! 
 
 Oh, come, thou blessed Haven of repose, 
 Where not one wave of trouble e'er shall roll ! 
 How do I wish these gloomy waters pass'd. 
 To feel secure within thy stormless shelter ! 
 Wave upon wave is sweeping over me. 
 But, oh ! thrice blessed thought, they drive me no* 
 Amid the quicksands and the eddying currents 
 I leave behind : each in succession wafts me 
 Nearer and nearer to that blissful shore. 
 Lo ! I already see the shining cliffs 
 And glitt'ring Temples in the dim horizon ; 
 I hear the cadence of no earthly music 
 Fall on my ravish'd Ear! — It is— it is 
 The anthem peal of glory ! thrilling chorus ! 
 A<if teri thoJjFsatncl. tijnes; teii .thou^sand harps 
 Wepe ^tniiigUo rohn'axijB: mighty, orchestra, 
 ,WakiiJg.tHp Ephoqs of Eternity! 
 
 a Gdd ! : i t^^rinC't listen •to-.tke tKuriders ! 
 
 Hush'd be the music of iriy earthly strains. 
 
 Ajid'leftlie ehoir^'df H^avjen ta^e up 
 
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