POEMS, c H.G.TOMKl 9Br ■— FROM THE LIBRARY OF REV. LOUIS FITZGERALD BENSON, D. D BEQUEATHED BY HIM TO THE LIBRARY OF PRINCETON THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY ■••■- 1 HI "■V"' I Ff I KU& ■ ■ -•'•» 45o Tomkins (H. G.). "Poems, c1 39° * sm. 8vo, cloth, is. od. • Bears signature, " R. Sinker, Trin. T^ Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2013 http://archive.org/details/chiecrOOtomk POEMS, CHIEFLY SACRED. J 4 6 8 10 12 13 15 16 18 19 12 2 2 24 26 28 3' 3^ 34 36 3* 40 VI CONTENTS. PAGE To the Wood-pigeon 42 To a Butterfly . 43 Written after Sunset at Bonn 45 Autumn ...... 47 Written in a Boat . 49 A Remembrance of Wellington 5° The Voice of the City . 52 On reading Memoirs . 55 On seeing Southey's Effigy. 58 Written at Bemerton, in the Rectory-garden 59 1 jl J • • • • s • 60 Branscombe, 1868 . 63 The Bell-buoy, off Langland Bay . 65 A Hymn for Branscombe , 68 Clovelly ...... 70 A Snow-song . 73 Winter ..... 75 The Lute of Isis .... 77 The Bird of Spring. 80 The Spotted Orchis 83 ' He that endureth to the end shall be saved ' 85 Written in a Summer-house 86 On the Grave of Henry Latham . 87 At Avignon 88 Collaton St. Mary . 90 Sonnet .... 92 Sonnet ..... 93 On the Baptism of my Godson 94 To the Same, on the day of his Baptism . 96 To a good Friend in bad Times . 98 S. Mark xvi. 7 102 CONTENTS. Yll PAGE Second Sunday after Easter I05 1 No Man liveth to himself IO7 Hymn for the Volunteers of England IOS Sonnet . I IO Sonnet ■ < I I I Two Royal Days of May . • t 1 12 Sonnet • i 113 Prisca Fides • 114 The Queen's Accession-da> • 115 'Will a Man rob God?5 • • ll6 Sonnet i 117 Sonnet . IlS Friedrichskron < t 119 Friedenskirche m I20 Hlj tlj£ same Jlitiljrrr. Studies on the Times of Abraham, with Illustrations in Chromolithography and Phototint. 4-to., cloth extra, 16s. London : Samuel Bagster& Sons, Ltd. 15 Paternoster-Row. The Life and Times of Joseph, in the Light of Egyptian Lore. 8vo., 2s. 6d. London : Religious Tract Society, 56 Paternoster-Row. WAKE AND PR A Y. ^yORK while it is called to-day, Watch and pray ! With both thine hands right earnestly, As in sight of God most high, Thy calling ply. Watch ! it is the Master calls thee. Pray ! It is His ear that hears. Up ! cast off thy chilly fears, Mindful that whate'er befals thee Leaves thee further on thy way, Watch and pray ! Watch ! for demons haunt around thee ; Sin and harm beset thy path. Yet be sure that nothing hath Power to hinder or confound thee, So thou faithfully alway Watch and pray ! Pray ! lest watching make thee weary. Praying thou shalt never fail : Though the night be long and dreary Though the dawn be faint and pale Brightens fast the perfect day : Watch and Pray ! 1S56. B ADVENT. r^OME, Lord Jesus ! quickly come ! Lo ! Thy Church with longing eye Lifts her blended voices high, Not a lip is dumb. They who sow with many a tear In the dry and stubborn soil, Mourning, ask from out their toil, ' Master, art Thou near ? ' Watchers of the weary night, While they pace their lonely round, Listen for the trumpet's sound, — Seek the dawning light. When shall lighten forth Thy sign Through the heaven ? O Lord, how long? When amidst the radiant throng Shall Thy coming shine ? Only grant us, Lord, Thy grace ! So shall we in joy that day Rise to meet Thee on Thy way, — See Thee face to face. CHRISTMAS THOUGHTS. \yHEN in the deep of night A blaze of sudden light The darkness broke, And chorus sweet of angel-voices woke The ancient earth's enchanted sleep, might none But rugged hinds alone That glory see, — Hear that high minstrelsy ? Then, Lord, Thou seekest not the wise and great Of earth to attend upon Thy sovereign state. Didst Thou, Almighty King, Thyself so lowly bring, So meekly bow The eternal crown of empire on Thy brow, As that a babe Thou wouldst a manger grace ? Was that hard-favoured place Thy chosen shrine To hide the light divine ? Still lower come, good Lord ! take up Thy rest Within this sin-distraught, unworthy breast. CHRISTMAS HYMN. CEED of Abraham ! Son of David ! Babe of Virgin-mother born On this bright and holy morn, To redeem a world enslaved By a death of woe and scorn ! Thee the shining angels sing, Unto simple shepherds telling How to seek in lowly dwelling Highest heaven's eternal King. Sages in the land of morning Read the royal sign aright : — Gazing on that star so bright, Gird them at the heavenly warning — Follow to the Gentiles' Light. Aged saints that wait alway, Fasting, praying, night and day, Shall of Thee the tidings tell, Glory of Thine Israel ! Mary's spirit now rejoices God her Saviour to behold, As the angel had foretold, Christmas Hymn. 5 And the prophets' solemn voices Sounding through the days of old. Christians now, as angels then, Sing aloud the blessed story : Glory in the highest ! Glory ! Peace on earth ! goodwill to men ! 1864. THE OLD YEAR. ART gone, Old Year, with all thy mirth Of warbling birds in hedgerows flowery, And lavish wealth of generous earth Ripen'd by sunny days and showery ? How faded are thy wondrous skies, Bright with the lucid gold of morning, Or deepest blue of noon, or dyes Of rainbow lustre eve adorning ! How vanished all thy hopes and fears, Thy thwarted and thy crown'd endeavour, Thyself with all the former years Lost in the haunted past for ever ! Much gladness hast thou borne away, Much sorrow from the weary-hearted, And deeper meaning yesterday Hath to the passing hour imparted, Leaving a voice upon the ear : 1 Take heed ! The finished days thou knowest, But oh ! what echo mayst thou hear From the untravers'd way thou goest ? ' The Old Year, My spirit listens to a sound : — I hear the words from highest heaven : 1 Fear not, though dark and rough the ground, For as thy day shall strength be given/ December 31, 1854. 8 PALM SUNDAY. C\ GREATER in Thy wonders Of grace and saving love Than when the trumpet's thunders Brake awful from above ! Our ears have heard Thy story Our hearts rejoice and sing, Now in the highest glory ! Hosanna to our King ! Ride on because of meekness, Of righteousness, and truth, Strong in Thy mortal weakness Above all might of youth. To crown Thy self-devotion The piercing thorns they twine, And offer for thy potion A drink of deadly wine : But O Thou Son of David, When in Thy Salem bright The nations of the saved Shall walk in golden light, Palm Sunday. g Grant us in loving pity, For all Thy sorrows' sake, Free of that holy city Thy triumph to partake. 10 2 KINGS vl 15—17 ; S. MA TT. xxvl 53, T^HE servant of the man of God, When Dothan's walls were close beset, With fainting heart his master met And shewed what he had seen abroad. Then spake Elisha : — i Fear not thou, For they that be with us are more ; But look as thou didst look before, And closely mark the mountain's brow.* So looked he as the prophet willed ; And, wheeling on the barren sward, Behold ! the chariots of the Lord And steeds of fire the mountain filled. Elisha knew the glory well, Not mindless how that chariot came And bore to heaven in whirling flame The mighty seer of Israel. Thus God His servants compasseth With angel hosts unseen but near ; Who do His will have nought to fear, For all is theirs, both life and death. 2 Kings vi. i j — i J ; S. Matt. xxvi. jj. 1 1 But when upon that fateful night The torches' glare the three awoke, And clashing arms the silence broke, And Simon's sword was bared for fight : In majesty of meekness He Rebuked the rash disciple's zeal, And, ready even then to heal, Stretched forth His hand for charity. By men forsaken and betrayed, No angel stood beside Him there, Though had His soul but breathed a prayer All heaven had come to give Him aid. The Master stood unhelped, alone, The lowly servant girt with flame. For ever blessed be Thy name ! Thy wondrous ways are all Thine own For us, O holy Saviour ! Thou Like as a bleeding lamb wert slain ; But we shall see Thee come again, When every knee to Thee shall bow. 12 EASTER-EVE. T-T E resteth. It is Sabbath now ; His Father's perfect work is o'er : The riven heart can throb no more, And painless lies the pierced brow. Beneath the linen's reverent fold Dead silence seals His lips of grace : Marr'd beyond all, that holy face The Father's eyes alone behold. Without, the world of deadly strife, — The Roman watch, — the sealed stone Within He lies who is alone The Resurrection and the Life ! O God, the rest remains with Thee : Thine Holy One is guarded well ! Thou wilt not leave His soul in hell, Nor shall His flesh corruption see. Now teach us in Thy loving fear How loss is gain, and gain is loss ; Our sins be fastened to His Cross ! Our evil self lie buried here ! 13 THE EASTER SEPULCHRE. Q SACRED sight ! Behold the place,— The sepulchre where Jesus lay! At either end an angel sits In silent rapture as befits The guardians of this wondrous day : And in the midst that empty space. Before one early streak of dawn Hath lit the garden's hallowed shade, Lo, faithful women come to mourn With costly spices duly borne And eager hearts, yet sore afraid, Whom holy love had thither drawn. But what is this ? From out the gloom Bright angels tell their glorious news ; — They show the swa things of the Dead, The napkin that was round His head : But over-blessed hearts refuse The tidings of the empty tomb. H The Easter Sepulchre. Still week by week its Easter brings — The holy day the Lord hath made ; Yet, slow of heart, of spirit weak, We, trembling in the darkness, seek The Living One among the dead, Though Death itself of glory sings. But when the age has run its race Behold, new-born from out the dust, Ten thousand saints shall throng the air And earth be left forsaken there, — The sleeping-place of all the just An Easter-grave,— an empty space : For now hath broke the eternal day ; O wondrous morn of second birth ! The blessed dead in Christ arise To meet Him living in the skies And they shall see new heavens, new earth, No more the earth where Jesus lay. MONDA Y IN EASTER-WEEK. AS on Thy way to Emmaiis, Draw nigh, 0 Lord ! and walk with us, And be Thou by Thy blessing said Known in the breaking of the bread. Interpret to us, gracious Lord, In all the writings of Thy Word The wondrous things concerning Thee, That in Thy light we light may see. Yea ! be Thy very Self indeed The Bread whereon our spirits feed, The portion of our heavenly lot : Open our eyes, but vanish not ! Thus following in all our way Thy journey on the first Lord s day, Our hearts within shall burn, and we At eventide sit down with Thee. i6 TUESDA Y IN EASTER. WEEK. ' Thus it is written.' — S. Luke xxiv. 46. ' T T is written ' — word of might ! Jesu's weapon keen and bright, When He foiled the prince of hell, As the holy records tell. So to Cleopas and him — Comrade of that journey dim — Spake the Stranger on their way At the closing hour of day : i Fools, and slow of heart to hold All the prophets have foretold ! Ought not Christ to suffer so, And unto His Glory go ? ' Thus again that sacred night, As they stood in doubtful light With the overjoyed eleven, Telling o'er the news of heaven, Came the Master bidding peace, And, that all their doubt should cease, Spake of words that He had said Ere He lay among the dead. Tuesday in Easter-week. 17 ' All things written in the Law, All the ancient Prophets saw, All that unto Me belong, Sayings dark of holy song, All must needs have been fulfilled.' So He spake, and speaking willed That their mind should opened be To receive that mystery. Open Thou our mind, O Lord ! So to understand Thy wrord, ' Thus is written,' let us say 1 Thus behoveth,' day by day. 1 Thus behoves to suffer all Trials that may us befal, Thus to live, and thus to die, Thus to rise with Christ on high.' i8 ASCENSION. /^NCE more past Gethsemane Jesus leads the loved eleven. Toward familiar Bethany As of old His face is set, Speaking many a word of heaven Up the steep of Olivet. Then before their wondering eyes Lo ! He riseth upward soaring In the blue and lucid skies, Till a cloud of dazzling light, White with angel-host adoring, Hides Him from their aching sight. Lord, ascended up on high, Who in heaven our manhood bearest, Thither bid our spirit fly While we pace the desert sand, Thee to meet where Thou preparest Mansions in Thy fatherland. 19 WHITSUNDAY. Q HOLY GHOST, in all Thy might Come down from heaven as rushing wind: In Jesu's name Let fall Thy flame That we our Father's love may find, Rejoicing in Thy holy light With gladsome heart and perfect mind. Now hallow Thou the broken bread ; The cup of blessing blessed make ; In living faith, As Jesus saith, May we the heavenly feast partake, — His Blood for us so freely shed, — His Body broken for our sake. Thou Who o'er Jordan stream didst light In likeness of a spotless dove, Now give new birth To sons of earth, And fill with faith and hope and love ! O guide our faltering footsteps right Unto the Father's home above ! 20 Whitsunday. Lord and Lifegiver ! Holy Ghost ! In Jesu's love reveal Thine own ! With inward power This sacred hour So shine in every living stone That now to the angelic host The wisdom of our God be known. 21 SONNET. To a Friend o?i his Ordination. T^HRICE blessed be thou in the Christian fight! Ring clear and full the silver trumpet's sound ! Armed and faithful evermore be found Clad in the heavenly panoply of light : Girt well with truth — thy corslet righteous- ness,— Swift be thy feet where'er the Captain list, With readiness of glad evangelist. Faith be thy shield of proof in battle-press : Good hope of sure salvation guard thy head : The Spirit's sword within thy firm right hand, — Celestial temper, keen and burnished, — Hold fast, and with that never-failing brand, Fight to the end among the faithful band, By Jesus on to holy victory led. 22 SUNDA Y MORNING. "DRIGHT morn that bringest welcome rest, Rolling the mist of earth away ; To wearied eyes how sweet, how blest, Thy dawning light, O happy day ! But more the inward heart delights To rise from out the nest below, Soar upward in rejoicing flights And catch the Sun's ascending glow. Twice hallow'd by the Word of GOD We hail one sacred day in seven, Once blest when man in Eden trod, — Once by the rising Lord from heaven. A brighter sun than Adam first Saw light the dews of Paradise, Rose in that hour when Jesus burst The snare of Satan's dark device : And we, for whom His blood was shed, For whom He lay within the grave, For whom He rose from out the dead, Shall we not sing His power to save i Sunday Morning. 23 Shall we not keep His holy day, And hear the message of His love, And meet within His house to pray, And hope to praise His name above, Where shines beyond this passing scene The city of Emmanuel, Within whose gates in light serene Day without night the righteous dwell ? For them no written law records A fleeting rest from toil and care, For every season is the Lord's, And God Himself the temple there. 24 A HYMN IN SORROW. [N all time of adversity, When my spirit sinks within me, When all earthly hope is spent, And even Thy promise scarce can win me To trust Thee for the unseen event, Good Lord, deliver me. From fretfulness and all unquiet, From doubt of Thy long-suffering love ; From all the dark perplexing riot Of thoughts untaught to dwell above ; From weak distrust and all misgiving From hopelessness and unbelief, From all in dying or in living That gives Thy Holy Spirit grief, Good Lord, deliver me. When ' all that is not heaven ' shall fail me, When wonted things shall all grow dim, When human love shall nought avail me, Nor aught abide but love of Him ; Then, for His sake who vanquished death And robbed the grave of dreariness, Receive, O Lord, my dying breath, Give heaven's own joy for weariness A Hymn in Sorrow. 25 And when this earthly life is ended, When ' perfect love ' shall swell the hymn That riseth from sweet voices blended Of saints redeemed and seraphim ; Grant, O Thou God who hearest prayer, That those I love may all be there. 26 A HYMN. Y^THEN across the inward thought Comes the emptiness of life, And it seems that earth has nought But a vain and weary strife : All to do, and nothing done, Useless days fast fleeting by, Wanderings many, progress none, Faltering steps by fountains dry, Shall we, in that hapless mood, Fainting fall beside the way ? Help us, Giver of all good ! Teach Thy wretched ones to pray ! Thou that with the Father art One in power, in glory one, Yet within the trusting heart Bearest witness with the Son : Oh forgive our faithless mind, Raise us from our low estate, Breathe in us the will to find Higher life in small and great ! A Hymn. 27 Give us watchful eyes and clear, Purged from the scales of sense, Seeing still the Master near, And the city far from hence. Higher lead our love and faith, Lower our humility ; Let the words that Jesus saith Be illumined all by Thee ! And in them let us discern, Calming all our sinful strife, While our hearts within us burn, Him the Word, the Truth, the Life ! 28 ISA FA H xxxviii. VyHEN my days were well-nigh spent and done I said, ' I hasten to the darksome gate, The years of promise are cut off from me, Jehovah's mighty works I shall not see Among the living ! — Man in mortal state Mine eyes no more shall mark beneath the sun. 1 My life is stricken like the shepherd's tent, And shall be moved speedily away ; Yea, as a weaver's shears his web divide, I am cut off from all my manhood's pride ; And pining sickness hath made short my day, Hastening the darkness ere my noon be spent.' In grievous weariness I made my moan From night till dawn with sorrow waxing faint, ' Like as a lion He wTill crush and tear, — From morn till eventide He will not spare : ' Thus like the swallow I renewed my plaint, And as a dove that mourneth all alone. Isaiah xxxviii, 29 1 Mine eyes are weary, gazing upward still, I am opprest, Lord, undertake for me ! What shall I say ? For He it is hath spoken, And all my woes His righteous will be- token ; I will go softly in humility, And its own bitterness my soul shall fill.' In deep repentance cometh peace at last ; Yea Thou, O Lord, my mortal hurt wilt heal! Instead of peace mine anguish was most deep, Yet Thou in love my vexed soul wilt keep, Thy mercy Thou hast given me to feel, And all my sins behind Thy back hast cast. For lo ! the grave cannot Thy greatness tell, And silent death is reckless of Thy praise : Hope comes not to the darkened dwellers there, The living ! He Thy mercy shall declare, The living who like me hath seen Thy ways, He from his heart shall sing Thy praise right well. 30 Isaiah xxxviiL The father to his children shall make known Thy faithfulness so never wearying : — ' The Lord was ready in my misery, He, He it is whose hand hath holpen me ! ' Therefore wTith sound of many a joyous string My song shall rise before Jehovah's throne 5' < THE FATHERLESS CHILDREN: Q WELLSPRING of all fatherhood, Supremely wise and kind and good ! We pray Thee all to save and bless Who in this world are fatherless. The cares of death to Thee are known — The silent gaze, the wistful groan, Each blessing on the lives to be That dying fathers seek from Thee. Do Thou, Whose own beloved One Lived in this life a widow's son, Give to Thy Church a right hand strong To shield Thy fatherless from wrong A yearning love to nurse for Thee The helpless of Thy family. E'en so by man beneath the sun, Father in heaven ! Thy will be done ! 32 ST. MARK iv. 28. * First the blade, then the ear, after that the full corn in the ear.' TPHOU that with curious eye dost mark, While pacing o'er thy dreary field, The first fresh springing blade revealed Scarce seen among the furrows dark, Wilt thou repine if in the morn Thou shalt not suddenly behold In summer seas of living gold The ripened glory of the corn ? Nay, but thou rather art content If, rising slowly day by day Beneath the shower and warmer ray, The crop reward thy labour spent. Yet we to whom the task is given To watch the soul's unfolding powers, In happy and in weary hours, Perchance have oft in sorrow striven 5/. Mark zv. 28. 33 To check the impatient wish that fain Would see God's work before the time, Unmindful of the changing clime, The earlv and the latter rain ; And heedless, too, how all unseen By human eye the root begins To feel its hidden way, and wins The sources of its life serene. Yet we may watch with duteous care, May wholesome nourishment supply, And tend with ever watchful eye The early shoot appearing there : For He who thus the blessing sends Hath granted to the humble mind Its happy work with Him to find In hallowed union for like ends. D 34 THE LOVE OF GOD. T is Thy love that lights the sky And beams so softly through, Veiling the glorious sun on high With depth of tender blue. It is Thy love that from the earth Draws up the life of Spring, And gives its beauty and its mirth To every living thing. O Son of God, Thy love to trace, Thy wondrous work to scan, Is blessed : but still greater grace Thou shewest, Son of Man ! Thy love it is that in the spring Of mercy overflows, That makes the wilderness to sing And blossom as the rose ; The Love of God. 35 That when the sons of God are born Sparkles as heavenly dew Upon the Spirit's holy morn, Creating all things new. 5 6 BURIAL OF THE DEAD. " I believe ... in the resurrection of the body." (TireipeTai crufia xj/vxixbu, eyetperai acofxa irv^vfxaTiKSv.- I Cor. xv. 44. ' J7ARTH to earth/ we lay thee low, Quenched torch! to moulder there Thee, whose light with living glow Shone so bright and fair. Life of earthly sort is past, Fleshly body spent and left, Into darksome silence cast All of sense bereft. Life is gone ! and gone for ever That estate of sin and care, Thwarting every good endeavour Which the soul may dare. Not by flesh shall heaven be won, Aching temples sorrow-stricken, Throbbing heart with grief undone The spirit will not quicken. Burial of the Dead. 37 Yet the Lord doth guard His own ; In the long eternity Thou shalt not be left alone, He hath need of thee. Yea, thy time shall come at last, Quenched torch, and thou shalt burn When the angelic trumpet- blast Hails the Lord's return. Spiritual body blest, Rising from the lonely sod, In the freedom thou shalt rest Of the sons of God. Changed into His likeness bright, Deathly life left far behind, Thou shalt in immortal light Thy Redeemer find. 33 THE BLESSED HOPE. Q FIRST-FRUIT of the holy dead, Incarnate God enthroned on high ! Thou, once the bleeding Victim led To death — now risen — no more to die ! Our dearest in the grave we lay, Asleep in Jesus — sacred dust, Safe to the great redemption day, Thine own to Thee, O Lord, we trust. Thine ear shall hear, where'er they be, A deep still voice from out the sod ; Yea, heart and flesh do cry to Thee, E'en from the grave, O Living God ! And not in vain. Thy work of might Shall build again the Spirit's shrine, Like Thine own form of purest light Among the sons of God to shine : — The Blessed Hope. 39 In incorruption, glory, power, Forth at the trumpet-sound to spring, New-born in that celestial hour, And in His beauty see the King. Lord, keep us till the morning break, — Till in that last high Easter-tide Thy many sons to glory wake, In Thy full likeness satisfied. Now glory to the Father be, Who brought our Shepherd from the dead ; And glory, Holy Ghost, to Thee ; And glory to our Risen Head ! 40 A REMEMBRANCE OF GRANT- CHESTER CHURCH, TO P. L., ST. JOHN'S COLL., CAMBRIDGE. "J"HOU know'st the stile full well. Thou know'st the church, The chancel where the loving ivy clings And mantles in its richest depth of green ; That modest tower, that lowly tomb so still Beneath the roses' fragrance, where 'tis writ ' Blest are the pure in heart.' And hast thou not In early summer, when the air is hushed, And the full glory of the setting sun Rests in the ivy's thousand glittering drops Where the fresh shower hath fallen, hast thou not stood Spell-bound, and heard the still air breathing round thee With music, and with children's happy voices That chant their hymns within ? Long hast thou stood, Then turned and wandered through the church- yard gate A Remembrance of Grantchester Church. 4 1 With silent step, and lingered in the porch, And where upon the lowly tomb 'tis writ ' Blest are the pure in heart,' — hast musing gazed, And prayed, and listened in deep reverence, The while that infant choir within were chanting Their simple and their solemn melodies. Then, by that time the golden orb of heaven Has darkened in the west, and the bright moon Silvers the eastern window's tracery, Homeward hast turned thy steps along the lane, Still turning and still gazing. Silent stands The church, and o'er the chancel cross there hangs A bright star glittering. Hushed is all within, Yet in the evening air is music still ; Yea, brighter now and far more beautiful Are those clear thrilling notes that, heard afar, Seem more than mortal joy. Thou scarce may'st breathe Entranced of that most sweet even-song. Well may a good and humble heart have said, 1 Lord ! if thou hast given such melody on earth, What music is in heaven ? ' 4-2 'TO THE WOOD-PIGEON. YyHY mournest thou, poor dove, in the covert thick As one heart-sick, And missing somewhat of thy fond belief ? What thou dost lack, Past bringing back, Hath turned in memory to a quiet grief. Thy voice so lights upon the listening ear With pensive cheer, So faltering, self-consoling, silence-broken, I fain would know The former woe That those half-uttered longing notes betoken. That may not be, and 'tis a foolish thought, Thus feigning aught That in thy shy sequestered heart may dwell ! Yet may I guess Thy notes express The sad and wistful mood of nature well. 43 TO A BUTTERFLY Which had just escaped jrom its chrysalis-skin. — "pHOU'RT free at last, and standing by thy cell, The dark home of thy seeming deathliness, Wherein thou hast abode the dreary while, Unheeding whether winter beat on thee Or clear spring smiled serene ; through warm and cold, By the hard buffet of the wild sea storm, Swung in thy slender web, or slowly working In hidden sort beneath the vital ray The subtle network that in summer air Shall bear thee up rejoicing, and the eyes That shall behold the glory of the year. O immemorial emblem of the blest And joyful resurrection unto life, Soon thou wilt stretch those filmy wings and float Through all the untried splendours, and wilt draw 44 To a Butterfly, &c. From every flower delight ; and will not He Who thus hath wrought be mindful too of us, That in our dark web of mortality, With dim presages of the better life, Work our appointed time shut in from light, And wait the promised hour ? 45 WRITTEN AFTER SUNSET AT BONN. * BEYOND that darkened hill The sun is sunken low, Yet in the evening still, Like a vast rainbow, His light doth glow. Downward like ruddy fire, Upward so tender green, Melting ever higher With a gentle sheen Of lovely tints between Into deeper blue : And thou seest afar Feebly glitter through Where the poplars are Some silver star. In the east full soon, Over yon great river, The broad shining moon Will gleam and quiver, On the small waves dancing ever. 46 Written after Sunset at Bonn. And all is silent round Till the knell, With wide-circling sound From the minster-bell, The hour doth tell. Sept. 1 85 1. 47 A UTUMN. A UTUMN ! thou art most rich in pensive joy To them that read thee rightly. Thou hast hope In deep serenity of sadness hidden ; — Life in thy gentle death. The seed hath fallen To its dark resting-place in the mouldering sod, — Its own small spark of life within it glowing, We know not how ; that unseen quickening power, Lodged there by Him whose least regarded work Is past our understanding. Canst thou tell, Thou that hast sought with weary and subtle toil, By what still-working silent spell it draws Unto itself all needful elements, And weaves them into fabrics passing art, Yet ' toils not, neither spins ? ' How meekly there, 48 Autumn. With what glad quietness in the dreary time Do these abide their rising from the earth ! Therein is wisdom that thou well may'st learn ; Bow down, O man ! for God is in this place ; ' This is none other than the gate of heaven ! ' 49 WRITTEN IN A BOA T On a small creek of the Is/s, near Abingdon, LOVE to see the golden sun sink down From this still creek, where the soft evening breeze Whispers among the reeds and purple flowers, While the small birds fly twittering to their nests ; And, through the liquid clearness downward gazing, To watch the many-tinted plants that grow In the cool water, where the playful fish Poise on their quivering fins, or swiftly dart, Cheating the sight like creatures in a dream. How the rich beauty of the evening sky Floats on the rippling pool ! and the red sun, Hastening behind the darkened trees to rest, Flames downward in a stream of flickering glory ; While in the pearly east the pale moon rises To rule the beauty of the starry night. 1S47. So A REMEMBRANCE OF WELLINGTON. Y\7irHIN that palace of the works of peace Where splendours upon splendours, bright and far, Stretched out in vistas of the summer light Beyond Arabian fancy to devise, I saw that aged Leader, him that erst, When one had risen to grasp at boundless sway, Guided the arms that did set free the world. Among the golden pomps of Indian kings, Drawn from the regions where his youth was trained, He stood most venerable in honoured age Scanning with thoughtful eye the dazzling scene. What were his thoughts I know not : — this I know, He stood a living monument, more grand And more suggestive to the musing mind Than all the breathing marbles art had wrought : The latest words of some great tragedy Fall so upon the ear. The noble deeds A Remembrance of Wellington. 5 1 Wrought fearfully within our fathers' youth Had drawn to this result of peace, high peace, And garnered glories of an age of arts : And some might dream the doors of malachite Were doors of heaven ; and all men were at rest. Such rest, so great a lull before the storm Arose that rends the heavens above our heads, Had then the world : — and Wellington was not ! But the tears wept above his awful bier Were drops before a thunderstorm of woe ; Scarce had he gone his way when fearful signs Rose in the firmament, too plainly seen, And through the age War's dreadful trumpet blew. Nov. 21, 1S54. 52 THE VOICE OF THE CITY. TTULL many a sound hath power to move the heart, Whether ye hear the viol or mirthful pipe, Or dulcet warbling flute, or pensive harp : And if the trumpet pour his royal note, Kindling a glory through the liquid air, Who but is stirred in every limb, and roused Like to a hero arming for the fight ? Not less the wondrous might the organ hath, Swelling the waves of sacred harmony Within some ancient minster, far retired From jarring of the harsh discordant world, Mingling the blended charm of hundred pipes Or some sole stop's articulate melody With ravishing beauty of the human voice. But who would listen with an ear intent To a more solemn sound than music hath, Let him at highest noon in solitude Stand with closed eyes beneath the concave huge Of that gigantic temple named from him Who to the Gentiles bore the Word of Life. The Voice of the City. 5 3 What marvellous thrill is that within his car, Ceaseless, monotonous, void of time or tune ; Filling, overflowing, this enormous dome ; A sea which day by day with rushing tide Rises and beats against the shores of heaven : And so hath risen, month succeeding month, Year after year, and human age on age, — Voices and lives and countless souls of men Here blended, jostling, dying : still the same This living sea doth swell, and sink, and swell, And roll its billowy voice unto the sky, And still shall heave its never-ceasing tide When thou art gone, — when each is gone, — and all Thou hearest now are in the silence lost Of Death, who ahvay mows the living down With noiseless scythe, yet leaves the more behind Whose voice shall swell the tumult till the end. Methinks that here the wakeful son of wealth Who early rises, late departs to rest, Bending the energy of all his powers To one sole point — the increase of great self — Might here abide a lonely hour, and find News of some greater world than the swift wires 54 The Voice of the City. Compass in all their course. But not to him Who is intent with introverted soul On his own earthly aims doth any voice Find entrance deeper than the pampered ear :« No, not if one should rise from out the dead ! Jan. 24, 1855. 55 ON READING MEMOIRS Of Arthur Henry Hal lam and Henry Fitztnaurice Hal lam. VyHEX the accomplished life of crowned hope Hath drawn to its full close, and golden wealth Of cultured greatness hath been duly reaped And garnered for all ages on this earth, Well may the honoured spirit sink to rest, And chants of triumph mingle with the dirge. Or if the innocent babe's few morning hours End in that great beginning, freely then And fondly may we give our sorrow words ; 1 Of such the kingdom is of heaven ' we say ; 1 Small need for alphabets of this world's lore Where angels are the teachers ! ' But what thoughts, What words to interpret them, what settled mood Of constant feeling can the spirit own Of him who sees the princely soul of youth 5 6 On reading Memoirs, &c. All lovely with the glow of highest powers In noblest exercise ; — all brave to act, — Enwreathed with the crown of worthy praise, — The path before him bright with prayers and blessings Of those undoubting ones who love him well — Pass swift from out the living ways of men ? Oh how to view the place where he had stood, The empty craving place where he had stood, The deeds unwrought he should have done ; to know The still air longing for the vanished voice, The many hearts intent for what is not Nor e'er can be ! Ah ! this should carry forth The ' longing lingering ' thought a higher way, — Should lead it shrinking and tear-blinded up, To where upon an eminence of faith Above the misty ways of this dim world It may look forth and know the greater truth, And see the shining city far from hence Where higher, holier lives are led than here, And mightier works are done ; and mark the Way Even dearer to the failing human heart For footsteps that have past. On reading Memoirs, &c. 57 But in the home Whence such have gone, what comfort now should dwell ? Oh ! is it nothing to have known the end ? And in the pictured halls of memory, Where ever later forms make dim the old, To see them brightened in perpetual youth, The noblest, loveliest semblances of all ? 1854. 58 ON SEEING SOUTHEY'S EFFIGY, In Crosthwaite Church, Cumberland. COUTHEY, thou wert both kind and true of heart, And in thy life domestic duty found Its due fulfilment ; friendship's generous glow Shed on thy learned task its welcome light, And not in vain were history by thee And lives of ancient men long pondered o'er, For seeds of noble thought found genial soil, And olden virtues lived again in times When daring folly and effeminate vice Were offering strange fire at Poesy's shrine, And had profaned the holy temple of God. Thy praise be not that various learning filled The storied chambers of thy memory, Nor that the craft was thine to frame the lay Impassioned, or the epic's stately pile To rear with Moorish splendour richly decked : But that at Duty's voice thy head would bow, Not mindless how the faithful in the least Is faithful too in much ; and therefore here Thou liest in memorial marble, long To be remembered by the true of heart. 1853. 59 WRITTEN AT BEMERTON, IN THE RECTOR Y-GARDEN. t-I ERE holy Herbert worshipped ; yon low roof Enshrined his glowing praise, his reverent prayer : A fane so humble to his eyes became The fair-proportioned temple of his God, The beauty of holiness, the l fearful place : ' And this sweet gliding stream whose limpid flow Sways the green tresses of the water- weed With ceaseless gentle rhythm, attuned his soul To the calm moods of holy poesy : While over the green levels rose the high Heaven-seeking spire of his loved mother- church. Here were his rounds of mercy, and his haunts Of fervid friendship, and his walk with God. Such be thy priests, the shepherds of thy flock, England ! O spare these homes of pastoral love ! September 2, 1869. 6o ISIS. T LOVE the quiet river-meads Their memory is dear to me, For there were sown full many seeds Of what my life is still to be. I love the broad and grassy vale Where gentle Isis wanders slow, — The horizon fringed with ' poplars pale/ And where the willowy streamlets go : — The antique bridge, the lofty spire Which tapers dark in golden air What time the slow-descending fire Of summer eve is reddening there. I love the foamy lasher-side With dripping river-weed o'ergrown, Where I would oftentimes abide As silent as the mossy stone, And watch the water, green and clear, To where it broke, and foamed and flash'd, And lost itself in wild career, Then to the pool with shouting dash'd. I sis. 6 1 But most I love dear Isis' stream, Where often in a lonesome boat I would not break the sunset gleam, But in the liquid lustre float, And muse with inward sweet content On all the beauty round me there, In earth and sky together blent, A harmony most deep and fair ; Or with a rapid stroke and strong Cleave through the water fresh and free ; Or, standing, slide the boat along, Like savage of the tropic sea. Dipping an oar on either side In narrow creek, or reedy pool, Among the lily-leaves to glide, And in sequestered shadows cool ; Where floats the queen of river-flowers In loveliness of perfect grace, Making, through sultry summer hours, ' A sunshine in a shady place : ' And where the proves of mellowed light Beneath the glassy water grow, — A dim-discern'd enchanting sight Of green retirements deep below. 62 /sis. 0 happy river, golden hours ! Of youth and health the choicest prime ! How throve the undistracted powers In life's most joyous morning-time ! When, after many a year had passed With storm and sunshine o'er my head, Once more my way was thither cast, And toward my native stream I sped, Another heart, and yet the same, I felt ; another life was mine : But while I near and nearer came The ancient light did clearer shine ; And, musing as I paced along, When rose the lark with joyous cheer, 1 thought he had another song, — The song my boyhood used to hear. 6> BRANSCOMBE, 1868. T^HE lines in pleasant places Are fallen unto me, In green hillsides and lovely combes Hard by the southern sea. All bright with Lenten lilies The crofts are blossoming, And, sweet with breathing violets, The banks of early spring. From heath and breezy uplands Three valleys into one Outgoing to the ocean With three bright streamlets run. In one deep combe the village Lies sidelong to the shore, In groups of mossy cottages Builded by men of yore : Yet of the sea they dream not Who find their shelter here, So high the hills above our church Their wooded rampart rear. 64 Branscontbe> 1868. But where the brook's sweet water Down to the ocean speeds, The Vicar's homely dwelling lies, With garden-plots and meads. Be with us in the valleys, Good Shepherd, in Thy love ! Be with us on the green hill-crests, And we with Thee above ! 65 THE BELL-BUOY, OFF LANGLAND BAY, pi ARK! that fitful bell With startling knell, That seems to toll A passing soul, As from a rustic steeple Among the homely people. Some neighbour gone, — A life to think upon, Now ended ! A widow undefended With babes to be befriended, Or some young head laid low — That the bell is tolling so. 'Tis fancy's trick, — no more ! For see the craggy shore And whitening surf, And here the thymy turf Of the brave hill-side, In all its purple pride Of ling and heath With centaury beneath. F 66 The Bell-buoy, off Langland Bay, Now the sound increases, — Now sinks and ceases : Yet wakes once more By the pleasant shore, But so fitfully swung, So irregularly rung, As if some wanton boy Had made the solemn bell his toy. Surely he will stay ! But no ! it knells and knells and knells alway, As if with urgent call To summon the neighbours all. Now the sound is clear, Louder and more near As the breezes veer And freshen from the sky : The sweet sea-voices thicken, Rustle and plash and sigh, And the ringing bell doth quicken As the wind sweeps by. It is the strange sea-knell From a lonely floating bell Tost by the lifting wave Above the sailor's grave, The Bell-buoy, off Langland Bay. 67 Over the deadly reef Where breakers whiten and roar So that the sound of grief Is calling evermore. Yea ! the friendly warning Calls in dark night and misty morning, Warning the living and mourning the dead, — The lives that are dear, and the souls that are sped. Ring, kindly bell ! Thy clear note sound Over the waters and crags around. Like some watchful living thing On the wild waves heave and swing. Even the gladsome wedding bell Scarce hath a voice to be loved so well ! July 23, 1873. 68 A HYMN FOR BRANSCOMBE. ORD, bless our village with Thy love Unmeasured as the sky above, And, as the hills around us stand, Be Thou our guard on every hand. When the green combes are blossoming Through primrose-scented days of spring, When violets white their fragrance breathe, Wood-sorrels hearts of emerald wreathe, Lent-lilies golden, bluebells sweet, Bloom thick as grass beneath our feet, Their forms, their hues, Thy goodness shew, And bid ' consider how they grow.' Thy grace refresh us day by day Like the clear brook beside our way ! And in our meadows green and blest, Good Shepherd, let Thy presence rest ! The wayside ass comes meekly home With kine that upland pastures roam. The ox his owner knows right well ; The ass rebukes God's Israel ! A Hymn for Branscombe. 69 Our eyes behold the sea that fills The melting blue beyond our hills. There heaven and earth have surely met, Since Jesus loved Gennesaret. The seaward-gathering blast of night Rushes across the billows white : Those roaring waves Thy voice have heard, And stormy winds fulfil Thy word. Thy feet upon the surging sea Have walked, and all was calm to Thee. Lord, when the billows round us foam, Stretch forth Thine hand ! With Thee is home ! Advent, 1868. jo CLOVELLY. THE sweetest sheltered valley, The warmest cloven lee, The most delightsome hamlet That nestles to the sea ; Where in the midst of woodland, And steeps and crags that frown With cots embowered in blossom, The street goes rippling down : Down to the little harbour Within its ancient quay, That with a strong arm fendeth The buffet of the sea. From distant decks it seemeth, O'er the blue water seen, A cataract of whiteness In the long reach of green. A bowery region stretches Far on the eastern side, Dipping its wealth of branches Down to the swelling tide, Clove I ly. 7 1 And by his ferny footpath The joyous traveller sees Sunlight and chequered shadow All twinkling in the breeze. And, as through leafy windows, The blue sea melts away, Where headland after headland Shuts in the ample bay, Leaving a misty outlet Of rivers from afar, That strive with tides Atlantic On the ' moaning harbour bar.' A sheer uplifted headland That beetles to the west In crimson crown of heather Exalts his beacon-crest . With broad and gallant shoulder Mantled in forest-green, From inland and from ocean His goodly height is seen. God's peace to thee, Clovelly ! With health and wealth and rest, Beneath his vine and fig-tree Each son of thine be blest ! J2 Clovelly. Thy homes be brave and blameless ! In strength and beauty rise Thy lads and little maidens Under their mothers' eyes, To serve their generation Like valiant men of old, And make full bright with deeds of light The tale that shall be told ! To stand by Queen and country For better or for worse, And earn for Land and Church and Crown A blessing, not a curse ! Clovelly, August, 1885. 73 A SNOW-SONG. Snow ! Snow ! Above, below, Over the town From the high skirts of the freezing air Brightly and silently crystallized there Misty and rimy it frolics and dances Whiffs of the cold blowing up, blowing down, Sidelong and slantwise, all ways at a time, So comes the rime, Thickening each flake as it flutters and glances, Daintily flitting, not hasty to fall, Over the houses and gardens and all, So, so, Down lights the snow. More ! more ! Behind ! before ! All hours of the day. Look out and see and dazzle your eyes ! Tossing and crossing it never grows weary But whiter and softer 'tis growing alway. 74 A Snow-song. Wherever it lights is a pillow of down, And a silver crown Brightens the trees on their branches so dreary, Gracefully resting in marvellous wise, Decking those mourners in wedding-time guise, Bright, bright, Dazzling and white ! Feb. 10, 1855. 75 WINTER. gTERN Winter, what art thou, Or how Shall I set forth thy likeness rightfully, That men may see How fair hope bideth meanly clad in thee ? Thou art like murky night, Bedight With darksome weed hiding the face of things : But morrow brings Fresh joy by her most bright discoverings. Or as the ebbing sea Whose free And glittering waves leave bare the unlovely shore : Yet all the more We greet again their living emerald floor. J 6 Winter, So too in melody To thee Who hearest, when thy raptures most abound, Silence profound Doth but enhance the sweet success of sound. Thus, Winter, thou dead seed of joys to be We'll think of thee. 77 THE L UTE OF ISIS. "D Y a pleasant river-side I was straying, Where in all their early pride Blackthorn bushes scattered wide Across the sunny meadows, Scarcely casting shadows, Stood in their white arraying. Earth and sky with springtide cheer Smiled in gladness. Ancient Winter on his bier, With many a chill and frozen tear Round him duly falling, Was gone and past recalling, Buried with all his sadness. Breezes light the waters dash On the river-brink, Evermore with gentle plash Lifting many a broken flash By a lucid heaven To the wavelets given As they rise and sink. 7 8 The L ute of I sis. Hark ! a distant sound to greet The listening ear, As it were a harping sweet For unseen elfin revel meet, Or anthem heard most faintly Sung by spirits saintly In some higher sphere. Such music heard I never, Nor may ever The like again my ears salute As from that magic river-lute Rose with pause and swell, A softly winning spell That did the senses sever : For though all things around Were bright and gay, — The sky so glorious, and the ground So full of freshness, yet the sound Of that harping airy, As from nymph or fairy, Stole the sight away Where the hidden cause might lie Of that mystery Long I sought, and far and wide, By the pleasant river-side The Lute of his. 79 Till a bended sedge On the water's edge, Strung with fibres, did I spy : And with light vibration there, Whensoe'er Springtide zephyr's gamesome wings Brush'd those finely-strained strings As they flitted by, Rose that melody Of elfin music sweet and rare. 1854. 8o THE BIRD OF SPRING. SWEET bird of Spring Sit on thy bending spray, This breezy day, And sing. Sing ! merry heart That, all the winter long, Harbouring no song, Apart In desert bleak Hast flitted hunger-bit Forlorn of wit To seek Hard bushes where Some shrivell'd berry stays, Or in the ways So bare A morsel hast Snatch'd up with sudden glee Which charity Had cast. The Bird of Spring. 8 1 Sit on thy spray Under the warm spring shower This genial hour Of day. Sing, cheery voice ! Never a gladder bird The Spring hath heard Rejoice. A fount of glee O'erflows thy throbbing heart ; Thou, of Nature part, Dost see A glory fill The wakening spirit of earth, A bright new birth Of will. I too with thee This bond of joy can find, Yet in my mind Foresee G 82 The Bird of Spring. A spring of bliss Whose lightest dawning ray- Outshines high day Of this. ' 83 THE SPOTTED ORCHIS. OW on the ground each spotted leaf, Dropt as with gore, Told its own tale of sacred grief To men of yore : In memory of that awful hour Of agony, They named this plant of crimson flower Gethsemane. Around each spiry stalk arise The blossoms fair ; And, gazing with creative eyes Of fancy there, Behold a small bird red and bright That upward springs Or stately helmet of a knight With crested wings. So brightest Easter-joys spring up From Passion-throes : So from the Father's sacred cup Of hallow'd woes 84 The Spotted Orchis. Comes courage arm'd for adverse things With constancy ; Thy helm, Salvation ! and thy wings O Victory ! 85 * He that endureth to the end shall be saved J S. Matt. x. 22. * T-TE that endureth to the end :' Think well of this, thou weary heart, Thou that hast chosen the better part, Yet faintest, mindless of thy Friend ; Thy heavenly Friend in sorrow tried ; Will He not help thee day by day, Who, having trod the woful way For thee, and in thy manhood died ? Is there in human life a page So dimmed with tears He sees it not, And that thine own peculiar lot Known to none else from age to age ? Did He not read the volume through Who drew the labouring mortal breath, Who bowed His head in bitter death And finished that He came to do ? Oh rouse thee from this deadly sloth, Rub from thy sword this coward rust ; Learn thou that blessed Friend to trust Who is thy God and brother both. 86 WRITTEN IN A SUMMER-HOUSE. T7RIENDS with guileless hearts and kind Welcome, for ye here shall find Morning beams that brightly shine In a nook where flowers entwine, Shadows cool in sultry noon, And silent magic of the moon When the elves their revels keep, With softest sounds of breezes sighing, While the unseen spirits weep Gentle dews o'er evening dying ; — Stillness of the charmed night, — Shadowy hour of strange delight ! When the solemn bell hath sounded, Tolling o'er the buried past, And Fancy, with wild dreams surrounded, Mighty spells doth dimly cast, — Showing to the enchanted gaze Vision'd scenes of happy days, And softly murmuring to the ear Sounds that once 'twas joy to hear. These delights if ye would meet Hither turn your silent feet. 87 ON THE GRA VE OF HENR Y LA THAM, Who found his death on the Burg at Grindelwald, Sep- tember ^, 1881. (Translated from the German of Pfarrer Gottfried Strasser.) CLEEP in peace, my foreign brother ! Light on thee our earth shall lie ! Far from thy home-land beloved Death hath touched thee suddenly. Fresher life where thou wert seeking Thou thine early grave hast found ! We, deep-grieved yet gladly hoping, See thee sink beneath the ground. Sleep in peace ! Where'er we're living We abide in God's own hand ; So our death-place is His giving, — For the Lord's is every land. Over all His goodness shineth In the grave's recesses dim : Even hence His own He calleth Ever to be blest with Him. September •, 1 88 1. 88 A T A VIGNON. TJARD by the frowning high-built fortress stands The old cathedral of Avignon. Pace up the slope of steps, and you shall see In front the Calvary and the Cross of shame, And Him Who hangs in agony thereon, — The holy women, and adoring angels. But Who is that, aloft in the serene And liquid blue, writh royal gold adorn'd And hands outstretch'd, and bended gracious head, Thus very high exalted above all, Blessing for ever and for ever blessed ? 'Tis He that was obedient unto death 4 For our advantage on the bitter Cross.' Now enter this low portal, and thine eyes, Smitten with darkness, hunger for the blue, The gold, the gladness, and the works of God. Exploring now, and humbled to the gloom We can discern the dome, the apse, the altar, — High altar of the Great High Priest, — all dim And quenched of votive glory. But beside See many lights are burning, candles shine ; At Avignon. 89 And lo ! a flickering gem of liquid light As of a sanguine drop suspended there. There Mary's altar blazes, and her form Rays forth its golden splendour, and the crowd In lowly adoration worship there. He stands without : His own receive Him not. Alas ! We get us forth from out the gloom, Forth of the earthlights and the taper-shine, To see His handiwork of light and love, And Him exalted, blessed, blessing all ! Sept, 25, 1 88 1. 9° COLL AT ON ST. MARY. May 28, 1881. IN MEMORIAM M.S.L. DUT a few paces from the door of home — Along the terrace, — through the winding path Fragrant with summer-breath and green with boughs, Tenderly bear her, loving neighbours' hands ! Crown'd with all stainless blossoms, wreath and cross, To where the garden wicket open stands. The garden of our Father's house is here ; 'Tis but a little way ' from home to home/ 0 listen to the threefold word of peace : ' I am the Resurrection and the Life.' Again : ' I know that my Redeemer liveth.' 1 The Lord did give ; — the Lord hath taken away/ A few slow paces to the open door, And through the cluster'd village, old and young, Collaton St. Mary. 91 That fill this hallow'd place. Now rest awhile. Hearken to voices of the Saints of old, — The holy Psalm, and that great argument Of Resurrection through the Lord of Life. Sing our sweet hymn of light at eventide. Then bear her forth in hush of stillest peace That floweth like a river deep and full. The Lord of peace is here. * My peace I give ; Not as the world gives give I unto you,' Sleep, well-beloved ! till the Morning Star, His angels have in charge to guard thy rest Till the day break and shadows flee away. 92 SONNET. r^REAT Sun, that rulest in thy plenary might The vassal hours of this long summer day, The noontide stillness doth confess thy sway Who tamest all things with thy rod of light ; Thyself art throned on imperial height, Thy crown of splendour blazing forth alway With brightness, heat, and that alchemic ray Working its secret wonders out of sight. When I behold all divers kinds that be, Thus blest, enjoy the glory of the year, Rejoicing in the earth and air and sea, So loyal every one to all, yet free, Father of lights ! a parable is here Of Thine own ' perfect law of liberty.' 93 SONNET. Written at Clovelly. HEAR the lulling and the sighing sea, With a soft murmur of a summer wind That seems to rock the cradle of the mind In rhythmic dreams of innocent infancy; And in a half-seen realm of mystery, Where sky and ocean in their blue combined Are blended as of one celestial kind, Float on the wide still wings of phantasy, Where many stately ships in shade or light, Glancing like winged sea-fowl dark or white, Glide past the light-house by the harbour-bar On to their river-haven out of sight; And where the shining fields and cliffs afar Melt all away into the infinite. 94 ON THE BAPTISM OF MY GODSON. Advent Sunday, 185 '4. T}EAR babe, who on this day art given to Christ, We pray the prayer of faith for thee. May He Who in His arms carries the tender lambs So fold thee to His bosom ! Thou art His, His death the price of thy most precious soul, His words the bread on which thy life must feed, His name the pledge of all things blest to thee: For life, for death, for ever, be thou His ! Thou little deem'st what now is done for thee, Thou knowest not from whence thy breath is drawn, Or for this life or that which is to come : Nor do we know the manner of thv life, It is most dark to us, clear but to God : Known to the Father of all spirits ; — known To Him Who was a babe at Bethlehem : Known to the ' Lord and Giver of life : ' may He Now give to thee that everlasting gift Which none can take away, nor man, nor fiend, On the Baptism of my Godson. 95 Nor life, nor death, nor anything that is ! So be it, Lord, for Christ our Saviour's sake ! And we ! Oh are we not as infants too ? More ignorant of the great spirit-world Than he of ours ? Do we not stretch weak arms Scarce knowing what we crave ? If He Who gives Should not above our wisdom deal to us How were we all undone ! Oh give us, Lord, The spirit that in little children dwells, To love and trust and leave it all with Thee. 96 TO THE SAME, ON THE DA Y OF HIS BAPTISM. TV/TAY wayward childhood with its shine and showers Find thee in stature growing and in grace, Swift to all lovely deeds, and fixed in truth As firmly as the sword-blade in the hilt. And so, when perilous boyhood casts thee forth To struggle with the evil world of boys, ' Among the faithless faithful ' be thou found, Believing, though the flippant and the vile Make scorn of all things holy : and though sin Within thee fain would call with traitor voice To sin without. So in those marvellous years Wherein the mists roll up the mountain peaks, — The horizon widens, scenes undreamt before Look glad and fresh beneath the sun new risen, — Then be that blessing thine of countless worth For which thy Saviour to the Father prayed, 1 Not that thou wouldest take them from the world, But keep them from the evil.' Not from cares, From thwartings of the will, from blighted . hopes, To the Same, on the day of his 1 nipt ism. 97 From counterworkings of thy noblest schemes, From sickness, or from sorrow, or from pain ; — Oh these are not ' the evil ! ' But from pride And self-applause of thine own ignorance, — That deafest of the adder-brood of sins, — From horrible downfall of the sovereign soul Into the mire of fleshly appetite, — From uncontrolled wandering of the mind, The homelessness of modern intellect, That wantonly will range and find no rest — From all that is unlike the mind of Christ, May He deliver thee ! And may strong faith Work in thee ever, and warm charity, And that high hope which maketh not ashamed ! II 98 TO A GOOD FRIEND IN BAD TIMES. " Treu und Fest" Tempora pessima sunt ; vigilemus ! " a ["N sooth these hard and evil times Are scarcely fit for jingling rhymes ; But you and I can chime together Our bells in calm or stormy weather, For you and I have sworn us lieges To bear all battles, brunts, and sieges, For Church and Queen and Christian State, And fellow Britons small and great. God hinder that we ever quail In lightest breeze or heaviest gale ! For we fear God and love the Queen, And meddle not with change, I ween. Why should we change — all for the worse — Our choicest blessings for a curse ? Our fathers heard from those that bore them How 'twas in that ( old time before them/ When Englishmen had English hearts, And bore their godly, manly, parts, To a good Friend in bad Times. To yield subjection not an hour To any but the lawful power : They taught their sons in hall and cot To ' buy the truth and sell it not : ' They bought it at a goodly cost, — Redeem'd it when it had been lost, And guarded still with steadfast zeal This Royal English Commonweal. 99 Our Queen is ours by gift divine, Our heritage of Alfred's line : A tender maiden of eighteen. She sware herself old England's Queen, And never on her roll of Kings Has sovereign yet done braver thing-. We saw her in the prime of youth, Her Albert's bride in love and truth — That golden day whose sunshine she* Unfaded light above our heads ! And she hath ruled this ancient land Through many a year of God's right han We share her good and evil thing . We Lrat us to the Kin? of Kin For her and hers in sore distress — The widow and the fatherles . And still she bears, as Christian ma . The heat and burden of the day, i oo To a good Friend in bad Times. Alone, yet not alone, — the glare And weary pomp that none may share, — The burden of our millionfold Cares unimagined and untold. Ours is no dumb and lifeless chance, The lot of our inheritance ! Our trust is in the Living God Who comforts us with staff and rod, And spreads a table of delight Even in our fiercest foemen's sight ; For He made heaven and earth, and sways The universe unto His praise. No foe then must we fear, nor traitor, We trust our faithful strong Creator, That He will give us daily food, And hold us safe in doing good ; We trust our dear Redeemer's love To guard His Church from heaven above From every midnight plot ; from all The anarchs bred in caucus-hall, And from their mad misguided horde : — From treason at the council-board : — From blighted loyalty, and cold Half-hearted deeds when spirits bold To a good Friend in bad Times. i o I Should stand all ready ' fast and true/ Alike to suffer and to do : — From traitors high and cowards mean, From each and all — God Save the Queen January 26, 1SS1. 102 6". MARK xvi. 7. .Rut go your way, tell His disciples and Peter that He goeth be- fore you into Galilee : there shall ye see Him, as He said unto you.' LONG-SUFFERING Lord, and didst Thou send So glad a word for Peter too ? For that forlorn disciple who Denied his Master and his Friend ? Where had he passed those weary days, Sad days of grief and quenched hope ? Did he in lonely sorrow grope Along his own most darkened ways ? How thought he on that latest look When Jesus turned Him in the hall, And at the shrill bird's wakeful call He straight his sinful trance forsook, And left the cheerful fire and went Into the dark and lonesome cold, Weeping for happy times of old And for his love so quickly spent ; J}\ Mark xvu 7. 103 But most for what the Lord had said, That thrice His name should be denied Ere the cock crew at morningtide: For the pale stars were waxing dead, And that which seemed so hard to think, Had come to pass in very deed, The valiant heart at utmost need Had been the first from harm to shrink. And now was Simon left alone With the Accuser face to face, To fall beneath his self-disgrace, Who had not dared his Lord to own ? No ! for He too, who did foresee The sin, had given the assurance sweet, ' Though Satan sift thy soul like wheat, Fear not, for I have prayed for thee/ How much the heart of Simon knew Of agony we cannot tell, From what in those three days befel, So bitter to the chosen few. 104 5. Mark xvi. 7. For they who loved their Master well Spake in amazed perplexity, ( We trusted that it had been He Who should redeem His Israel.' So fared it with the sad eleven, But women early at the tomb Saw sitting in the inner gloom A youthful angel fresh from heaven, Who bade them not to be afraid, For He they sought was risen indeed As God aforetime had decreed : And shewed the place where He was laid, And then the joyful message gave, That they and Peter too should see And gladly greet in Galilee Him who had triumphed o'er the grave. March 27, 1853. 10 SECOND SUNDAY AFTER EASTER. i S. Peter ii. 19, &c. PHOU, Lord, for us didst undergo The buffeting, the scorn, the shame, — Didst sinners' contradiction know : — And shall we shrink to bear the same ? 1 All who in Christ will godly live Must suffer persecution/ Yea ! The word of warning Thou didst give, And we must follow in Thy way. For Thou wert sacrificed for us, O holy Lamb of God ! and we Should offer soul and body thus A lively sacrifice to Thee. As we are called, so give us grace With patient heart to suffer grief. That we Thy blessed steps may trace, Help Thou, O Lord, our unbelief! 1 06 Second Sunday after Easter. For we as sheep have gone astray, But now Thy voice of love controls Our steps in Thy most holy way, Shepherd and Bishop of our souls ! 1S65. io; ' NO MAN LIVETH TO HIMSELF: 'J" HE life that liveth to itself will die : For lack of its own proper nourishment, It fails of its predestined true intent And takes no root, and withers by and by. The life that lives by preying on its kind, Through envy, emulation, greed of pelf, Dies like the scorpion, ' felon of itself,' And at its best is hungry, lean, and blind. There is a human life that, failing never, Is rooted by the eternal springs of love, And spreads its fruitful branches far above, And ' hid with Christ in God ' will thrive for ever. ioS HYMN FOR THE VOLUNTEERS OF ENGLAND. {Written for Music composed at the time of the Spanish Armada). I. "VTOT for conquest's sinful splendours Bear we arms, O Lord, Thou know'st, But as loyal home-defenders, Brethren sworn to guard our coast. So to this our good endeavour Thy perpetual blessing yield : As of old, e'en so for ever Shine forth our sun and shield ! II. Far from us be base ambition ! Far from us be craven fear ! — Faithful to our true commission, Honest heart and conscience clear. Purge, O Lord, our sinful leaven, Make us Christians sure and tried, Though on earth, yet sons of heaven Through Jesus crucified. Hymn for the Volunteers of England* 109 III. Then should foreign focmen landing E'er our English shores invade, We their evil might withstanding, Gracious God, be Thou our aid ! Let not force or guile confound us : Do Thou as of yore Thou didst, Be the wall of fire around us, Our Glory in the midst. ISO;. no SONNET. THOU hast much goods laid up for many years, My soul ! But not of thine own earning ; Nay! What wert thou better than a castaway But for the costly love that all endears. Thy sheaves were sown in sorrow, and by tears Watered, and all the seed was day by day Given from the Master's hand, and every ray Of ripening sunshine that the harvest rears To golden grain is from the Father of light, Whose goodness hired thee to this blest employ, And sent thee to His field. 'Tis His delight To give thee all things richly to enjoy, And in the garner of His heavenly store Thou hast much goods laid up for evermore. 1 1 1 SOXNET. ' TF thou haclst known, at least in this thy day. The things of peace ! ' O day of visitation, Of brightest hope that dawns on every nation. That hath its morning and its sunset ! Nay, England ! Must thine grow dark at noon ? O, say ! Art thou so set to spurn thine own salvation, — So mad to hail the son of desolation, — To choose Barabbas and thy Christ betray ? Where is thv sacred ensign not unfurled ? Its red cross flies upon the furthest breeze! Thy mother-tongue is heard of God alway In ebbless tide of worship round the world ! Who gave thee all thy blessed things of peace ? Wilt thou not know, at least in this thy day ? March 7, 1886. 113 TWO ROYAL DA YS OF MA Y. May I, 1 85 1 : May 4, 1886. "JV/j" Y thought takes wing across the years and sees The crystal fount, the gates of malachite, And overhead those fairy lines of light, Like spider's web, above the tall green trees Unruffled by the balmy summer breeze ; While glitters round an ever-moving sight, Of multitudes all vocal with delight, Like myriad laughing waves of sunny seas. Now see our loyal Empire bring its stores Of wealth and skill from East and South and West. To hallow all the Hallelujah soars ! Our fathers' God old England still adores. God save the Queen ! Our holiest and our best We guard within these tempest-battered shores ! May 4, 1886. H3 SONNET. William Edward Forster, April 5, 1S86. VEA ! thou hast stood upright and brave and strong While truth hath fall'n around thee in the street, And righteousness hath suffer'd sore defeat ; And in thy heart the barbed shafts of wrong Have driv'n the martyr's anguish deep and long, And spent thy threaten'd life. For it was meet ! Such dire salutes as these for ever greet A soul like thine, that stems the heated throng. Thy day was nobly liv'd beneath the sun, From dawn to dusk full open to the sight ; Thine amaranthine wreath is fairly won : Rest, patriot Forster ! for thy deeds are done. Yet shalt thou rise, and, shining as the light, Stand in thy lot when all the days are run. April 6, 18S6. U4 P RISC A FIDES. C\ KING by Whom all kingdoms stand, In pitying love behold our land, And as in years of Thy right hand God save the Queen ! In darkest hour lift up Thy light ! When foes are strong be Thou our Might ! And every wrong turn Thou to right, And bless our Queen ! We guard for ages yet unborn The holy sign our sires have worn, — The ancient faith that we have sworn To God and Queen ! At home, abroad, a loyal mind Be ours ! A fast allegiance bind Old England's folk to English kind And England's Queen ! So let our red-cross ensign fly Unstained by guilt or treachery In all the breezes of the sky For Christ and Queen. 1 1 THE QUEEN'S ACCESSION-DAY. (Trinity Sunday, 1886.) 1SJ0W sound the echoing horns of Jubilee, For seven times seven historic years are ended Since England's queen her ancient throne ascended. It is the feast of Holy Trinity : — Send forth Thy truth, O Lord, to make us free! To-day our nation's praise and prayer be blended Before our fathers' God, so oft offended ! Lo ! Queen and people raise their voice to ~Thee ! Through throngs of loyal hearts on sea and land The mighty circle of worship fills its round, And choral Hallelujahs crown the da)'. Praise to the Eternal Father's love profound ! Hosanna, Lord ! we bless Thy pierced hand ! Lifegiving Spirit ! speed us on our way ! June 12 and Whit Sunday, 1SS6. 1 16 < WILL A MAN ROB GOD?' Q ENGLAND ! wilt thou turn thy Father's house Into a den of robbers ? Wilt thou haste Unto the spoil where thou hast pray'd, and waste The altars where thy fathers seal'd their vows ? These laws divine,— these customs of our own, — We took them from Thy kingdom : ' Alfred said. A thousand years, and often hard bested — Yet see ! Our Alfred's daughter holds the throne. But wilt thou crush the Church and save the State ? Whate'er thou sowest thou shalt also reap ! O lost to reason ! do we hope to keep, While altars fall, our homes inviolate ? Go search all history since time began : Who fears not God, neither regards he man. "7 SONNET, In Memory of Archbishop Trench. pOET, divine, bishop, and patriot, On to life's ripen'd harvest thou hast borne Thy toilsome day, that had so bright a morn, A noon so generous, and so hard a lot Through lengthening shadows. Still thou faintedst not Beneath the burden and the heat, though worn With sorrow, and thy tender nature torn By the sore woes of palace and of cot. As the wild conflict thickens, and grim Fate Strikes her avenging blows on every side, While houses great and fair lie desolate, Such days of sin and shame who may abide ? Thou, be thy Master's coming early or late, Art sweetly sleeping till the morning-tide. 2nd Sunday after Easter, 1SS6. llS SONNET. i Felix opportunitate mortis.' 'X'RUE man of England ! Worthy son of Devon ! For ever constant, cheery, brave and kind, How valiant for the truth thy cultured mind ! Thy heart how pure of this world's evil leaven ! Oh rather had we spared full seven times seven Shrewd sons of policy, waiters on the wind, Trimmers of shifty sails, right cheap to find ! But such as thou are few beneath the heaven. The cross of Christ thy light, His wreath thy prize, Swift, but oh ! not untimely was thy death. Life spent like thine in godly, manly wise Needed no long farewells, no tears and sighs Around thee. Few short gasps of parting breath : Then the free air with Christ in paradise. Jamiary 16, 1 88 7. H9 FRIEDRICHSKR ON. June 15, 18S8. TSJOT in this life, thou noble one and blest, The crown shall circle thine imperial head: A higher coronation of the dead Lights on thee, where around thy couch of rest The sorrowing kneel, the dearest, bravest, best, Fond lieges by thy great example led To fill the kingly purpose in thy stead, And work with loyal heart thy true behest. Here is Love's empire, this her golden band ! Authority leaves not the dying king Whose throne is righteousness, whose just command By strong consent of valiant hearts shall stand Based on the will of God in everything. Lo ! here thy Frederick's crown, great Father- land ! 120 FRIEDENSKIR CHE. Waterloo Day, 1888. T^HEY pass beneath the portal arch With broken hearts and spirits failing", And sobbing of the deep dead-march, And knell of guns, and trumpet wailing ; Safe in the love of Christ that died, Blest in the Father's arms that made him, Till the great roll-call to abide, Within the Church of Peace they laid him. 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