FROM THE LIBRARY Of REV. LOUIS FITZGERALD BENSON. D. D. BEQUEATHED BY HIM TO THE LIBRARY OF PRINCETON THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY f&4£* Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2012 with funding from Princeton Theological Seminary Library http://archive.org/details/memreligOOmart r v ,-> V JAN 15 1934 s ^o MEMORIAL, RELIGIOUS, MISCELLANEOUS POEMS By 0. D. MAKTIN. PHILADELPHIA: PRINTED BY HENRY B. ASHMEAD Nos. 1102 and 1101 Sanson Street. i86a. ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY COPIES PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR. jjtfoiation. To MR. ALAN WOOD, Jr., "River View," Conshohocken, Pennsylvania. My Dear Friend, — The pleasure I experienced when I beheld this beautifully printed volume (my first volume of Poems) was greatly enhanced by the thought, that I could dedicate it to you. Our friendship has been so earnest, so true, and so real, so little like the friendship of this sad world of ours, that whatever is of interest to the one, is sure to please and entertain the other. Accept then, as a slight token of my esteem and an acknowledg- ment of my gratitude for your many kindnesses, this tribute. Most of the poems you have read, two-thirds of them having been published from time to time in the Magazines and Daily Newspapers. Some of them I had in- tended to omit in this collection, but as I shamefully neglected them when they were first sent into the world, and showed them no countenance what- ever, I have concluded in my selfishness, now that they have obtained a little popularity, to lay claim to them. I know that there is nothing par- ticularly beautiful or remarkable in the volume, (if I except the printing, which is beyond all praise), but I am happy in believing, that no matter how indifferent the poems may appear to others, they will always be highly valued by you, not especially for the sake of the poetry, but because you love him who wrote it. 0. D. MARTIN. pHii.ADEj.rHtA. April, 1866. f o nut §ook. Into the criticising world I send thee, Without a hope or home, without a friend, (For few I fear will ever dare befriend thee), To journey on, not knowing what thy end; Perhaps some one a helping hand will lend thee, Perhaps some Bard will strain a song for thee ; But many more will strive to tear or rend thee Into a nothingness — Who thinks of me ? My heart and soul are in thy few short pages, And though no beauty in thee may be found, And though thou wilt not live in after ages, Nor to a future generation give a sound — Still if 'gainst thee stern criticism rages, And bigots will not choose to welcome thee, (For thou art not from one of Nature's Sages) Thou wilt be welcomed where they'd welcome me. Bright be the place of thy soul ' No lovelier spirit than thine E'er burst from its mortal control, In the orbs of the blessed to shine. On earth thou wert all but divine As thy soul shall immortally be ; And our sorrow may cease to repine, When we know that thy God is with thee. Light be the turf of thy tomb ! May its verdure like emeralds be : There should not be the shadow of gloom In aught that reminds us of thee. Young flowers and an evergreen tree May spring from the spot of thy rest : But nor cypress nor yew let us see ; For why should we mourn for the blest ?" Byron. Ulltt! pus an % Death nf <6. i. Death came upon me when my heart was lightest, When every joy was mine, And bore away when Hope's bright star shone brightest, My friend and thine.* The fairest flower that God had ever given The Angel claimed as his, And blooming now in azure fields of heaven. Our treasure is. Know'st thou dear friend or canst thou till the Jordan Fades on thy anxious eve : The bliss which thrilled the wanderer when her pardon Came through the sky? Know'st thou my friend the joy which smiles upon her, Now that life's journey's o'er? View'st thou the scenes of light which open on her, In that blest shore? Philosophy is lost amid the hazes Which float around the Throne, Mortality with earthly eyes, but gazes On night alone. - These lines were written in an Album belonging to a friend of E. J. 12 LEAVES OF MEMORY. All further search and knowledge are forbidden ; The bliss beyond the skies Is known to Angels only, and is hidden From mortal eyes. Her's is the rapturous bliss beyond all telling- Free from all earthly care, She rests securely in her Father's dwelling In realms of air. No grief can enter that all cloudless Aiden, On Jesus' kindly breast, All who are weary, worn, or heavy laden, Find quiet rest. Not by the bank of yonder placid river, Nor yet in yonder grave, Her wearied Soul has fallen asleep forever, Where none can save ; — No, not in yonder grave! e'en at the portal It fled from Death's embrace, Threw off mortality and reigns immortal, Redeemed by Grace. The grave ne'er held a Soul— the flesh may wither, And dust return to dust; The Soul is God's, and the Almighty giver Guards well His trust. Dear sainted Sister, who art gone before us, I hear, I hear thy voice, Swelling its praise amid the immortal chorus Of Jesus' choice. \ LEAVES OF MEMORY. 13 Oft in a trance, a day-dream, or a vision, Thy beauteous form I see, Treading o'er flowers in a path Elysian, Clothed wondrously. I know, no matter what thou may'st be doing, Thou'lt oft times think of me, And I, thy footsteps thro' Heaven's path pursuing, Will think of thee. I know, though joys are thine and bliss unending, I know where'er thou art, Full many a word of comfort thou art sending, To cheer this heart. Thine is the voice which whispers to me ever — "Trust and be not afraid ; Trust, and the God who leaves His children never, Will see thee stayed." She is not dead, nor lost unto us wholly ; Her influence and love Speak to our hearts, and point us, oh ! how truly, To realms above. Let us, my friend, heed every warning, given In love to us, by her — Oh, let her be our inward lamp to Heaven — - Our monitor. Let us forsake this world so false and hollow, And tread the path she trod ; Let us her bright and blest example follow, And turn to God. 1-i LEAVES OF MEMORY. Then in the mansion of eternal pleasure, When life's dread storm is past, Seated by Christ and our ascended treasure. We'll rest at last. LEAVES OF MEMOEY. 15 % & |. (in, bright Spirit, go, ( >nr Lord hath called thee hence, A glori us joy thou art to know — A Crown thy recompense. Go, bright Spirit, now, With youth's fresh flush upon the.', Ere care shall furrow deep thy brow, Or Winter's frost be on thee. Go, bright Spirit, go. Where partings are no more, Where tears of agony and woe Are o'er, forever o'er. Go, bright Spirit, give Thy soul to Jesus' keeping — He suffered death that thou might 'st liv< Thou art not dead, but sleeping. Go, bright Spirit, go In all thy joyous seeming, Leave, leave this world of vice and woe, This world of empty dreaming. Go, bright Spirit, home To worlds from sorrow free — Though thou to me canst never come, I, I can go to thee. 16 LEAVES OF MEMORY. (Our (Eoiiib. The mirth and gladness of the cringed mu^io-makers have seemed to me to he sadly out of place amid the sacred gloom which surrounds a grave- yard. She rests by the bank of a river, My heart and my life, And the Robin Red-Breast Builds his beautiful nest On the branch of a tree Which waves mournfully Over my wife. The bird is a bright little fellow, His mate's by his side, And amid the deep gloom Which envelops the tomb. He's as happy and gay As a school-boy at play — But my mate has died. Oh ! my grave is there by the river, I'm buried there too — So, Robin, sing, sing, And flutter your wing, Be merry and spry, And my darling and I Shall listen together, And watch every feather Fluttering for vou. LEAVES OF MEMORY. 1? gt is not fon Wan 1 am Mcqmn]. It is not for thee I am weeping, It is not for thee my tears flow, Thou canst not, thou canst not be sleeping With earth for thy pillow — ah ! no. A loved one my heart fondly cherished, An Angel all spotless has flown, A flower in blooming has perished, I feel, oh! I feel I'm alone. But it is not for thee I am weeping, It is not for thee my tears flow, Thou canst not, thou canst not be sleeping With earth for thy pillow — ah ! no. How I bitterly dread each to-morrow ! E'en my dreams are of trouble and pain, On my heart is the weight of deep sorrow, And the night-cloud has set on my brain. In this short, transient scene — this ideal, This moment to what is to be, I am missing a glorious real, But it cannot, it cannot be thee. Oh ! it is not for thee I am weeping, It is not for thee my tears flow, Thou canst not, thou canst not be sleeping With earth for thy pillow — ah ! no. 18 LEAVES OF MEMORY. As water in rock is imbedded, Thou wert grown in the heart of my heart, And we seemed so unchangeably wedded, That nothing could rend us apart. Thou' wert mine, and I thine, and forever, From each other we could not break free — Could I live and without thee ? ah ! never — What were life — what were hope without thee? Oh ! it is not for thee I am weeping, It is not for thee my tears flow, Thou canst not, thou canst not be sleeping With earth for thy pillow — ah ! no. Every joy of this world, every pleasure Has vanished before me and fled, For they told me, thou all priceless treasure, It was thou, it was thou who wert dead. But each day and each night thou'rt before me, And in visions thy sweet face I see, And I rest with thy form bending o'er me, — Oh ! it cannot — it cannot be thee. Oh ! it is not for thee I am weeping, It is not for thee my tears flow, Thou canst not, thou canst not be sleeping With earth for thy pillow — r.h! no. LEAVES OF MEMORY. 19 % <&. Alas! how little did I dream That I should live to mourn for thee, Or that this world should ever seem So drear and desolate to me ! My heart is buried in the earth, Where calmly sleeping thou dost lie, And stilled is all my wonted mirth, And dim and tearful is my eye. Thy joyous, merry voice no more At evening's hour shall charm my ear; Thy heart-felt welcomings are o'er, Thy kindly words have ceased to cheer. The hand, which fondly clasped my own, Is nerveless now, and turned to clay ; The heart, which beat to mine alone, Has sweetly throbbed thy life away. All, all is over now, and I On earth no more thy form shall see, But in a calmer, clearer sky, How blest shall our reunion be ! Peace to thy dust! The spark has fled, Which o'er a little world threw light ; Peace to thy dust ! Thou art not dead, — Thy soul has only ta'en its flight : 20 LEAVES OF MEMORY. Its flight to happy realms above, And now where saints their strains prolong, Pours forth its praise of Jesus' love In rapturous, angelic song. God gave thee to me, thou Bright Star, To guide me to the Heavenly Home; And now from thy calm world afar, I hear thee calling — "Loved one, come." My heart replies, and lays its guilt At Jesus' feet and sues for grace; — "Lord, thou canst pardon, if thou wilt, And every guilty stain efface." Soon shall the angel pass my door, Soon shall He summon me away, Soon shall this troubled night be o'er, Soon shall break forth the cloudless day ; Soon shall I meet thee in the skies, Soon shall I (purified, forgiven) From this dark vale of sorrow rise And join thee in the ranks of heaven ; Soon in that blissful place of rest (My duties and my labors done) We, who on earth God more than blest Shall be inseparate and one. LEAVES OF MEMORY. 21 I feel the weight and fearful sense, In its most agonizing tense, Of utter, utter loneliness. Oh, heart! oh, heart! wilt thou not break? Must memoiy bid thee ever ache ? Is there no balm in Lethe's lake? Forgetfulness ! Ah, blessed theme ! But when I wake or when I dream, My heart throbs sore with grief extreme. Oh! Soother, Comforter and Guide, Oh ! ever gentle, loving Bride, How could stern death our joys divide? Oh! that his dart had pierced my side, And I with thee, my life, had died! God's messenger on earth to me; — Oh ! what a loss I have in thee ! Where shall thy like, thy image be ? Death yearned for such a matchless gem, And placed thee in his diadem. 'Tis hard to say, and feel "Amen." Oh, agony! oh, deathful smart! Thou wert a portion and a part, An ingrowth of tliif* bleeding heart. 22 LEAVES OF MEMORY. Grown with my growth thou wert, and we Were one, one indissolubly — My life in thine, and thine in me. It seemed the pleasure of the skies That I should live in thy bright eyes For years, and know no sorrow rise — But God has ordained otherwise. I view thee happy and I'm blest, Blest in my misery; — it is best; Thy soul's in heaven, at rest, at rest. Oh ! mourned, lamented, buried Love ! Be thou to me the Spirit-Dove, And bear the peace-branch from above. Bear to my heart a heavenly peace, Give me from doubt a sweet release, Bid troublous fears and sorrows cease. Give me thy confidence in God ; And, while I weep o'er thy grave-sod, Teach me to bow and kiss the rod. LEAVES OP MEMORY. 23 % too Jittlt |«rs gg0. Two little years ago, Hope with her hand in mine Journeyed with me among Scenes where life's beauties shine, Where sweetest songs are sung, Two little years ago. Two little years ago, Every life-promise bright Blossomed and bloomed for me ; Then, then my heart was light, Light as a bird's and free, Two little years ago. Two little years ago, Bright eyes spoke love to mine ; All, all the joy and bliss That in the Saints' world shine, My soul felt in this, Two little years ago. Two little years ago, I lived and moved in her; All that I wished was she ; — I was her worshiper, For she was Heaven to me, Two little years ago. 24 LEAVES OF MEMORY. Two little years ;igo, We took our last embrace — Death was my rival lover, And to a far off place Bore her, and joy was over, Two little years ago. Two little years ago, I knew my heart was dead, Dead, dead, within my breast ; Sad, bitter tears I shed, And my grief knew no rest, Two little years ago. LEAVES OF MEMORY. 25 % k gottratt. Thy portrait hangs before me now, An image, love, of thee; No time-marks on thy lovely brow My gazing eyes can see. I look on thy expressive face, And find thy bright smile there, And well the Artist's magic trace Has browned thy lustrous hair. Thy eve on me still mildly beams, Thy lips are ope'd to speak, And Health's bright rose, it fairly seems, Is budding on thy cheek. Oh! when the care of day is o'er, And all its trouble fled, I on thy portrait look once more, And think thou art not dead. I dream the picture has a voice, I see, or think I see, The angel-woman of my choice Come back to life and me. Oh ! bless the counterfeiting Art AVhich gives us form and shade, The smile, the love-light from the heart, Ere yet our dear ones fade. 1 2G LEAVES OF MEMORY. Though thou art gone from scenes of strife, From sorrow and disease, I have thee near me as in life, And thou wilt ever please. If Art this triumph had not won, And we could never see The loved forms that the grave closed on, I would remember thee. For Love is wiser far than x\rt, And he thy form has traced So plainly, deeply on my heart, It cannot be effaced. Thou irrecoverable gem, That sparkled for a moment here (Now sparkling in the heavens bright), How many an unseen, unknown tear Courses my cheek by day and night, Since, vision-like, thou left'st my sight ! Dost thou not pity them ? LEAVES OF MEMORY. 27 Mfeere art %\a% geanst, fo-ni^t? Where art thou, dearest, to-night? Where is thy home in the skies? Art thou the star I see shining so bright, Or is it but one of thy eyes? Sometimes the heavens look dread, And down upon earth falls the rain — Is it not tears the departed ones shed For the lovers they sigh for in vain? What dost thou do in the sky? Where dost thou wander and roam? Amid flowers whose beauty and perfume ne'er die Have the chosen ones builded thy home? Are the streams golden and fair? Is the throne emerald all? Do music and melody breathe in the air, And on thy ear endlessly fall ? Oh ! sweet is the music of earth From lips that are loving and true, But what are our sweetest of melodies worth, Compared with the songs breathed by you ? Brighter than any bright star Shining most brightly this even, Queen of the realm in the region afar, I sigh and I sigh for thy heaven. 28 LEAVES OF MEMORY. feslico, but not broken. Crushed, but not broken, may I like the flower Which feels a wintry blast, Rise in the sunshine of a brighter hour, And conquer all the Past. Conquer the Past, — forget the scars Time's arrow Has left upon my heart ; Relive it in my mind, but not its sorrow, Recall its brightest part. Recall the holy, sweet associations, With those who made life blest, With her, the tenderest of all heart relations, My faithful one, .and best. Faithful ! aye, matchless in her pure devotion, Unchangeable and true; With her I would have drained Life's bitterest potion, And fought the world anew. Fought! ah! 'tis terrible to fight Life's battle Friendless, and all alone : We need some sweet voice in the world's mad rattle, To aid, and cheer us on. Partner of all my joy, and all my weeping, Cheerer of Life's dull way, All of Mortality in thee is sleeping, And hastening to decay; LEAVES OF MEMORY. 29 But thy Immortal, death-defying spirit, Bursting through fleshy bars, Has reached the region which the blest inherit, Above, beyond the stars. There I may view thee from my world of sorrow, And hush all doubts and fears, And comfort from this knowledge I oft borrow, And smile amid my tears. I joy to know I have a friend in heaven, A friend I lately pressed Close, close unto my heart, — an Angel given To make me doubly blest. Doubly, for while on earth we walked in pleasure, All blessings came through thee, And now, in heaven, my brightest, dearest treasure Is where my heart should be. Oh! blessed one, to-night as I sit thinking Of all my sorrows here, And feel my spirit in my bosom sinking, With no one nigh to cheer ; — ■ My tears rush from their founts, and I grow weary, Life's path so rosy made By thee, is thick with thorns and dark and dreary, And I am sore afraid. Oh! leave to-night thy roamings and thy wanderings Around thy world of bliss, And stand in holy presence o'er the ponderings Of inv sad soul in this. 30 LEAVES OF MEMORY. Teach me the Past; I will forget the Present, Its longings and its sighs — Teach me the Past — it is forever pleasant, Its beauty never dies. Come with thy crown and heavenly treasures laden, Come in thy robes of snow, The spotless, blood-washed garments of the maiden I loved so long ago. Oh ! take my hand in spirit, take and lead me, Whisper, and I will hear; Thou canst not tell how much, how much I need thee When Life is dark and drear. Oh ! I have missed thee, morning, noon, and even ; The poorest spot on earth Was rich with thee, and bloomed into a heaven ; I knew and felt thy worth. And now the memory of the days departed Brightens the passing days, And though my song seem sad and broken-hearted, It is a song of praise. LEAVES OF MEMORY. 31 %a Carrie. AT THE LAST MORTAL MOMENT. Sister ! this ring is thine, I yield it with my life ; It once was hers who once was mine, And I had hoped would be my wife. Take thou her gift to me, And keep it in my stead ; For I loved her, and she loved thee, And thou should'st wear it when I'm dead. Ah ! it has had the power, With talismanic art, To brighten many a gloomy hour, ' And bring contentment to my heart. I've gazed upon the ring, And thought of her as past All mortal care and suffering, And in her blissful home at last. And this has made me glad To know she was at rest — To know her hopes and longings had Forever ceased, and she was blest. 32 LEAVES OF MEMORY. Oh ! jewel kindly given, I yield thee with my breath ; I'd have no need of thee in heaven, Nor could I use thee after death. So, sister, take the ring, And when I cease to be, I trust this little golden thing May cause thee oft to think of me. Sang nf i\t ligneous. " The righteous shall be held in everlasting remembrance." Oh ! King of kings and Lord of lords, I'm happy in thy blessed words, And my poor heart beats wild and free, To think thou wilt remember me. If all we ask thee could be given, What could we ask for more than heaven ; To dwell with thee in realms above, And see thy mercy, feel thy love? This world were sad, oh ! sad indeed, If thou would'st leave us in our need; If thou would'st turn from those who hate, Oh! what, kind Lord, were sinner's fate? I wait thy coming, mighty God, I long to pass beneath the rod, I long to sing in heaven thy praise, And serve my Maker all my days. 36 RELIGIOUS POETRY. #jr! tojmt totttr Care. Oh ! when with care the sinful heart Is weary and oppressed, Go take to God the wounded part And he will give it rest. When sinners flee from wrath to come, And leave their wicked ways, God cheers them from his heavenly home, And keeps them all their days. Let's fix our hearts on God alone, Who in the day of care Looks kindly from his heavenly throne, And points his children there. RELIGIOUS POETRY. 37 Whilst Iliow art bg. Whilst thou art by I shall not need, I shall through thee be saved indeed ; Within the dismal paths of Death, When thou art by I draw my breath. Oh ! when my soul has fled away, And left this worthless mass of clay, May I in thee a refuge find To soothe my heart and ease my mind. Death hath no terrors when we know God has the Keys of Hell below ; Oh ! happy Death, twice blessed to me, For by it I can come to thee. Thou art the Kock on which we stand, The guide to lead us to thy land ; Oh ! all would happy, happy be, If all would put their trust in thee. April 20, 1858. 38 RELIGIOUS POETRY. <$lakc, mjj Soul. Wake, my soul, thy night is over, And thy morning dawns at last, Wake, for angels o'er thee hover, Offering pardon for the past. Wake, thy future is before thee; Pray to God by day and night, And the sins which now hang o'er thee Will be pardoned by his might. Wake, for God is no deceiver, He is speaking through the sky, Wake, thou piteous unbeliever, Or thou shalt forever die. Wake, oh wake, why art thou sleeping, When thou should'st be on thy guard, When thou should'st a watch be keeping, For the coming of the Lord? Wake, and sleep no more, thou dreamer, God is calling through the sky; — Hear the words of thy Redeemer, — "Wake from sin or thou shalt die." Wake, oh wake, thy night is over, And thy morning dawns at last, Wake, for angels o'er thee hover, With redemption for the pa?t. RELIGIOUS POETRY. 39 ®0 If]ef, mj| Sabionr. To thee, my Saviour and my King, I humbly bow my head, Repentance to thee, Lord, I bring, For wicked ways I've led. Oh ! wilt thou turn thy face from me, And frown from out thy heaven ? I ask for pardon, Lord, of thee, And pray to be forgiven. I've darkly sinned and scorned thy love, But hear me while I pray; — Look kindly from thy throne above, And wipe my tears away. My wicked heart is sore with sin, I'm weary and oppressed ; Oh! cleanse each blackened part within, And take me to thy breast. Oh! let me lean upon thy form. For near thee I'm secure ; I'd sheltered be from every storm, From every thought impure. When thou art near my heart is strong, But weak when from thy sight : Oh! keep me, Lord, from every wrong, And lead me in the right. 40 RELIGIOUS POETEY. Watch o'er me, Lord, by night and day, Let e'en my thoughts be good — Oh ! wash my many sins away, And cleanse me with thy blood. Take from my breast this stony heart, It weighs my spirit down ; Oh! let me live to wear a part Of thine immortal crown. RELIGIOUS TOETRY. 41 " Blessed are ye when men shall revile you." Take up the cross — let men revile, What care you for their frown or smile? If you in Virtue's robes are clad, Rejoice and be exceeding glad. Take up the cross — let all men see You love the Lord, and fearlessly; Though men your earthly ties have riven, They cannot mar your peace in heaven. Take up the cross, — the course you choose Is just, you gain, you cannot lose: You gain a Life that never dies, A Home eternal in the skies. Take up the cross, for life is brief, And death in sin is endless grief; For mortal man can never tell The endless misery of hell. Take up the cross — if you have trod The narrow way, and walked with God, Death is to you a blessed thing, It brings you bliss without a sting. Take up the cross, and love your God, And pass beneath the chastening rod, And God will meet you in the skies, To give you life that never dies. 6 42 RELIGIOUS POETRY. (the JUuahcning. Sound the glad tidings from nation to nation, And let the earth joyfully, fearlessly ring, For the Gospel is spreading from station to station, And Jesus is reigning, our Saviour is King. On the light wings of mercy, Eeligion is coming, Our once darkened prospects look bright to the eye, For the sinner who far from his Maker was roaming, Is repenting his sins ere God calls him to die. The good work is spreading, our prayers are bringing Sad souls to Christ's banner, new lambs to the fold, And the angels in heaven are joyfully singing, And nature seems glad the great change to behold. Go teach the Gospel, the Word, and our Saviour, Forgiving your foes as you would be forgiven, Go teach the heathen their evil behavior, And Jesus will bless you and join you in heaven. RELIGIOUS TOETRY. 43 (But Sabiour's OMl. "Come to me, tliou mourning sinner, Lay aside each care and fear, I will take thee to my bosom, I will wipe away each tear." "Come to me, thou broken-hearted, I will heal thy burning grief, Bring the balm of soothing nature, Give thy saddened soul relief." "Come to me, thou darling orphan, Weeping for a parent's love, Come, I'll be thy fond protector, From the realms of bliss above." " Come to me, grief-stricken widow, Do no longer walk astray, Come, and I will gladly bless thee, I will wash thy sins away." Thus it is our Lord is calling Us to an eternal bliss, Offering us a heavenly mansion For a wicked world like this. Who will seek this blissful dwelling ? 'Tis for you, for me, for all ; Listen while our Lord is calling, He may one day cease to call. 44 RELIGIOUS POETRY. )t. Oh ! happy he who puts his trust In God who dwells on high, Who seeks eternal happiness, And Life which cannot die. Who sees to-morrow, not to-day, Or fleeting pleasures here, And looks into his future life Without a sign of fear. With God his pilot, safe his bark Rides o'er life's stormy sea, And happily he gains the shore Of sweet eternity. All worldly cares and tears are past, From sin and sorrow free, He joins the Angels in a life Of immortality. And joyously he sings his praise, To God who dwells above, And happy is he all his days 'Mid scenes of peace and love. RELIGIOUS POETRY. 45 «'s Job*. Ah ! who is He who softens care, And to the weary breast Brings gentle words and balmy air, To soothe it into rest? And who is He who sits on high, To rule the earth and sea, And lets our many faults pass by Unkept in memory? Who pardons and forgives us all, When we in meekness go ; — When at His feet we kneeling fall, Who gently soothes our woe? Who brings a balm to aching hearts, Who heals the widow's grief, — Who happiness to all imparts, Who gives to all relief? Ah! mourner, in this "vale of tears,' 'Tis God will ease thy breast, 'Tis God will hush thy many fears, And give thee lasting rest. 4G RELIGIOUS rOETRY. ^Ije gcunion. We'll meet again, we'll meet again, Our sorrows will be o'er, We'll have no care or trouble, when We're on that happy shore. All will be happiness and bliss ; Our souls to God are given, — For other realms we'll give up this, And join our Lord in heaven. We'll meet again, we'll meet again, Our heart-aches will be o'er, And free from care, and free from pain, We'll rest for evermore. Oh, bless the day that calls us hence, When earthly ties are riven, For joy shall be our recompense, Our home shall be in heaven. 1858. RELIGIOUS POETRY. 47 gcal hinbltr toitjj ft I]g Scrbant. Deal kindly with thy servant, Lord, That I may live and keep thy word; Lord, ope my eyes, that I may see What is my duty, Lord, to thee. Thou Saviour of the good and just, In thee, great King, I put my trust; To serve thee all my days I'll try, And be prepared when death is nigh. I long to be with God above, And dwell in mercy, peace, and love ; To hear the angels sweetly sing Their praises to the mighty King. Then, Lord, have pity, stand thou near, When thou art by' I've naught to fear; Unto thy care I'll yield my breath, And feel secure in life or death. 1858. 48 RELIGIOUS POETRY. Christ is gistn. Exult, exult and sing Songs of love and grace, Jesus is our Saviour King, And heaven his dwelling-place. He's risen from the dead, He comes the world to save ; Oh ! sleeping sinner, raise thy heart, Be ready for the grave. He calls, he calls to thee, From out his home in heaven, "Oh! sleeping sinner, come to me, And have thy sins forgiven." And wilt thou mock his word, And still with sinners live? Oh! no, go freely to the Lord, He will thy sins forgive. RELIGIOUS POETRY. 40 (tad) injur is btari. God hears each prayer,— the little child Is heard by God upon his throne, And as it prays in accents mild, God gladly claims it as his own. And when the strong man bows his headj Or weeps a sad, repentant tear, Or mourns the wicked ways he's led, God stoops his aching heart to cheer. Or if the heart is full of grief, And cannot name its sorrows o'er, God gives that burdened heart relief, And makes it lighter than before. Come, sinner, come, nor let thy doom Of everlasting woe be sealed, Come, ere they close the silent tomb. And all thv sorrows shall be healed. 50 RELIGIOUS POETRY. Me mt, f orb. Take me, Lord, and make me thine, Let me walk within thy sight, In this darkened heart of mine, Dark with error, "be there light." Take me, Lord, and let thy mild, Gentle spirit in me reign, Make me humble as a child, Teach me to be born again. Take me, Lord, and watch my way, Be through life my friend and guide, I can never go astray, If I have thee by my side. Take me, Lord, my heart is young, Young in truth, but old in sin, Be thou guardian of my tongue, — Oh! be thou my light within. Take me, Lord, and give me Faith, Faith which trusts and knows not fear, Make me conqueror of Death And the grave and all things here. Take me, Lord, — thy way is best, I will follow, if thou lead; With thee I am richly blest, But without thee, poor indeed. February, 18G4. RELIGIOUS POETRY. 51 f raise U $o&. With heart and soul let's sing our praise To God who dwells above, For if we serve him. all our days, He'll keep us in his love. And when we die, as die we must, And from the world are driven, Although our bodies may be dust, Our souls shall be in heaven. 1858. 52 RELIGIOUS rOETRY. %\n <£nb of all firings. Flowers which now are blooming, All the earth perfuming With their fragrant breath, Soon shall fade and wither At the touch of Death. Babes which now are laughing, Pleasure's sweetness quaffing, Soon shall pass away, And in graves shall moulder Into useless clay. Youth, which knows no sorrow, Thinks not of the morrow, With ambition high, Shoots the flying eagle, Aims e'en to the sky. But the great Destroyer Death, Ambition's spoiler. Blasts it in the bloom, And with Youth hopes wither In the dismal tomb. But the hope of Heaven, To us all is given, And we've naught to fear, When our bodies perish, God our soul? will cheer. RELIGIOUS POETRY. 53 And when Life is over, Sorrows will not hover O'er our happy hearts, But the kiss of Heaven For Life's wounds is given, And Life's care departs. Though each friend should perish, Though each hope we cherish Feels a crushing blast, Still our God is with us Changeless to the last. Jftfealltt ^miattmu ai Wn\m$an'& |trt^»g. Arouse ! arouse ! ye citizens, And hail the blessed morn When the Father of his country, When our Washington was born. His deeds, his worthy, noble deeds, Alone proclaim his worth, And render him immortal with The purest ones of earth. Rome tells us of a Caesar, Of his warlike deeds and fame, But she never had a Washington — Grod bless his noble name. Our country's Father still shall live In every freeman's breast, And on our History's pages stand, Of all true men the best. That name so welcome to his friends, So feared by all his foes, Will live when all things mortal shall Have sunk in calm repose. 8 58 MISCELLANEOUS POETRY. When time itself shall be extinct, And naught of earth remain, Eternity will catch the theme, And dwell upon his name. The fame of kings and queens will sink Before oblivion's grasp, But time shall bear our Washington's Triumphant to the last. What would we be but England's slaves, But subjects of a crown, Had not our noble Washington Put Tyrant's power down ? Had not our Washington rose up, The freeman's wrongs to right, And teach to every English heart, How fiercely freemen fight? Oh ! could we but appreciate His merit and his zeal, We'd sing his praise in anthems which Each Englishman could feel. Our Washington with untried men, Put England's power down, Prostrated at our Eagle's feet, The famous British crown. The English lion bowed to him, On Yorktown's battle-plain, And learned by heart a lesson which He'll not wish taught again. MISCELLANEOUS POETRY. 59 At Monmouth, all ! that bloody spot, He sliow'd his wisdom too, And planted there our country's flag, The red, the white and blue. He needs no monumental pile, To tell his worthy fame, And patriot hearts will think of him, As one exempt from blame. As one who cheered the soldier's heart In sickness or in grief, As one who to a wounded man Brought ready, kind relief. 'Twas Liberty unsheathed his sword, But no disgraceful stain Was on that blade when he returned It to its sheath again. He took no life which he could save, He did not fight for fame ; He drew his sword for country's good, And won a noble name. He saved our country from disgrace, He broke our country's chains ; And we will never cease to think Of him while life remains. We'll bless him with our dying breath, And time will in its flight Remember him who brought a morn On Freedom's darkest night. 60 MISCELLANEOUS POETRY. Eemember him to whom all good, All virtue here was given ; Who loved his country next his God, His Master, God in heaven. MISCELLANEOUS TOETRY. 61 %ty gging BaMtx. On the battle's bloody plain, Where both young and old were slain, Where the wounded writhed with pain, A soldier dying lay; His lamp of life was failing fast, Long looked for death had come at last, But ere he died, one thought he cast On friends then far away. A loving comrade at his side, In gentle kindness stayed the tide Of red blood gushing in its pride From him so soon to die ; And wiping from his eye a tear, He bent a fond, attentive ear, To catch the words he wished to hear, For none save him were by. At length the soldier raised his head, He looked around, he saw the dead ; — " Ah! comrade, soon I'll be," he said, "With those who lie around; This useless dust to dust return, This aching heart, will cease to burn, This soul, an earthly grave will spurn, My bones rest in the ground." 62 MISCELLANEOUS POETRY. "But ere my senses pass away, Oh, list, kind comrade ! list, I pray, And bear a message far away, To her I mourn to blast : Tell her though floods rolled deep between, And years have fled since we have seen Each other, still to her I've been True, changeless to the last. "And tell my darling not to weep, For him who sleeps his long, last sleep, For him who sleeps Death's slumber, deep, As the black clouds of even; Tell her though we shall meet no more O On earth, and my fond hope is o'er, I point the way — I go before, We'll join our hearts in heaven. "Bear message for me to another — I have no father, sister, brother, But oh ! my loved, my widowed mother, — - Speak kindly of her son ; — I was her only, dearest pride ; Tell her that you were at my side, And heard me bless her ere I died, Oft bless her ere Death won. " Tell her, though pale had grown my cheek, And fever made me worn and weak, Still, still her son essayed to speak, To struggle forth her name ; — MISCELLANEOUS POETRY. 63 Tell her stern Death my fate has sealed, Tell her our country won the field, Tell her we forced the foe to yield, To fly from us in shame. "Now spread our flag, and let me see Its colors float triumphantly, Proclaiming joy and liberty And peace to all the land; Now gently, comrade, rest my head Upon some mossy, flowery bed, My body soon will join the dead, My soul, the Angel band." His comrade sadly drew him near A spot beside a shady tree, Where he the sweetest soncrs could hear o Of singing bird and humming bee. And ere the Lily drooped its head, The wounded warrior was dead. 64 MISCELLANEOUS POETEY. fines on tire geatjr of (Cllstoortb. We have received many poetical tributes to the memory of the lamented young soldier, so early removed — so worthy of being held in honor and re- membrance. The following, which has reached us with the signature of M. D. 0., possesses considerable merit. — Dr. R. Shclton Mackenzie, Philadelphia Press. " Immortal be the memory of Ellsworth." — Dougherty. Immortal ! yes ! thy name shall stand Enrolled among a hero band ; And in each Freeman's heart shall be A deathless memory of thee. Immortal ! Does a Patriot die AVhen stops his breath, when dims his eye — When fame begins, and Glory's star Shines brightly o'er the field of war ? Immortal ! William Jasper's name Shall be less deathless than thy fame. On Moultrie's walls he placed our flag — Thou hast torn down Disunion's Rag. Immortal ! Though God stop his breath, A Patriot is exempt from death. He cannot die — death has no claim On him who bears a Patriot's name. MISCELLANEOUS POETRY. 65 Immortal ! When this strife is o'er, And Treason braves the field no more, Thy name shall be with honor sung From every lip, from every tongue. Immortal ! Though thy voice no more Shall cheer thy soldiers as of yore — Though thy brave band shall mourn their dear, Lost, murdered chief with many a tear ; — Immortal thou — like him of old, Whose glorious fall our Halleck told In words which moisten many an eye — Like him, " thou wert not bom to die." May 2G, 1861. 66 MISCELLANEOUS POETRY. (On th gratb of i]Uss . In the bloom of her youth, in the gay, laughing hours, When life was a vision, all pleasure and dream, When the path that she trod on was covered with flowers, And Hope shed around her its brightening beam ; Ere the ills of humanity darkened her stay, Ere the cares of this world marred her spirit's young bloom, This heavenly flower from earth flew away, And the form that we worshiped we laid in the tomb. Ere sin had polluted a blossom so fair, Ere the world and its treasures profaned her, She flew to the valley and region of air, For the cold arm of Death had enchained her. With a smile on her lip, and a light in her eye, She willingly parted with father and mother, And she said not a word, and she breathed not a sigh, As her soul left this world for the bliss of another. With the angels she sings in that Eden above, In that bright, happy region of pleasure and bliss, And she drinks of the fountain of Mercy and Love, In a land which is better, far better than this. Would you welcome her back, if she flew from her joy, To this land which is sullied with sorrow and pain ? Having tasted of pleasure unmixed with alloy, She could never be happy in this world again. MISCELLANEOUS POETRY. 67 I l]t ©nig faugbtcr. A mother had a lovely child, A little girl of seven ; She loved it with a love so wild, She'd not have parted with that child For all the wealth of Heaven. Her sole, supremest, dearest joy Was centered in that creature ; She loved her better than her boy, And thought that Death would ne'er destroy One portion of her feature. But we are weak, and God is strong, The tyrant, Death, soon sought her ; He snatched the one she'd cherished long, The one she'd loved too deep, too strong, Bereft her of her daughter. They laid her in her last low bed, And not a word was spoken ; But we have often heard it said, The mother glanced once on the dead, And then her heart was broken. 68 MISCELLANEOUS POETRY. (On tire tlwtb of Bliss Soft winds were sighing, And roses were dying, And cheeks were as pale as if touched with Death's kiss, For friends broken-hearted, Wept o'er the departed, Whose soul had ascended to regions of bliss. Who knows the sorrow, When each weary morrow Renews the sad longings that yesterday knew ; When each heart has striven, To put faith in Heaven, But fears it is more than a mortal can do ? When brothers and sisters, In sad, broken whispers Speak love of the one who has fled to her home ; When sister and brother Embrace one another, And pray that the Comforter hastening will come ? Who knows the sorrow, When care seems to borrow Each trust which will doubtless add misery and pain ; When hearts are all broken, And each word that's spoken Brings sad, sad remembrances into the brain '.' MISCELLANEOUS POETRY. 69 All ! the soul's quiver, As over the river Of Death and of Darkness it fearfully goes, And aching with sadness, And hopeful to madness, It sinks in Eternity's dreadful repose. Ah ! life with its flowers, Its bright sunny hours, Its bloom and its blossom must wither and fade, And friends whom we cherish, Must sicken and perish, And in the cold churchyard in sorrow be laid. But God has a heaven, For those who have striven To bear with their sorrow, to joy at their pain ; And when death shall linger, A bright Angel's finger Will point them to regions where blessed spirits reign. 70 MISCELLANEOUS POETRY. (Dn tlje gcatjr of George Wi. Mooa. Farewell, old friend, when last I clasped Thy hand in friendship's dear embrace, I little thought I never more Should gaze upon thy living face ; I little thought that Death would seize A gem of such a priceless worth, Or wilt a flower which just had bloomed To beautify and bless the earth. How could I think that thou would'st die, In years so young, in hope so new, Or deem I took a last farewell Of him so gentle, kind, and true? God marked thee for his own, and took The one from us which he had given, He deemed thee all too bright for earth, And claimed thee for himself in heaven. We mourn thy loss, but know that thou Art happier far 'mid scenes above, Than here, where death must blast each hope, And fear walks hand in hand with love. Farewell, old friend, we'll meet no more 'Mid sceneo which are as dark as this, But on that everlasting shore Where life is an eternal bliss. MISCELLANEOUS FOETRY. 71 Ib a Stoilrcr on % f ass of Ijcr Daughter. Cease thy weeping, doating mother, She, so loved, is happy now, Life's long pain and sorrow over, She is happier than thou. Ere life's day had past the morning, Ere she sunk to sin a prey, Love of God her heart adorning, She, thy loved one, passed away. An Angel's crown to her is given, And she is led through paths of bliss ; Oh ! would'st thou have her give up heaven For such a dread abode as this ; — And bring her back to sigh and mourn For what she never could regain ? Oh! mother, pray her not return, Or, rather pray her to remain. 72 MISCELLANEOUS POETRY. 12 gbtpq. Ah ! many a night and many a morn Have come and passed since I was born ; And many a pleasant hour lias fled, And many a friend I loved is dead, Since first I trod this varied scene, Since first I saw fond hopes decay, Since first in paths of love I've been And saw, alas ! love pass away. And oft my aching heart will sink When on the Past I chance to think ; When I look back on moments fled, And ponder on the life I've led, My heart within my breast will weep, And on my great transgressions pause, For I have had transgressions deep, And wandered oft from Virtue's laws. I've had fond friends, but they have flown, And now I tread this world alone ; But without friends, I blessed would be, Were I from sin and sorrow free. For sin breeds sorrow, how else foil On man the misery of Hell ? Sorrow is child of sin, and God Rewards or punishes as we have trod The ways of sin or virtue's ways, As we have lived and spent our days. MISCELLANEOUS TOETRY. ( Though years have passed since first I knew The poignant grief, — the body's pain, I found that life had pleasures too, I've felt it o'er and o'er again. And oft I think we mope and fret, When we deserve not half we get. Now when a year has passed away, I mean a year from this Birthday, I trust that time will find me then As pure and innocent as when My mother danced me on her knee, And gently stroked my baby hair ; Or sang sweet little songs to me, And I was free from sin and care ; And oh ! may no succeeding year, Bring me a cause to shed a tear. 10 MISCELLANEOUS POETRY. Huberts anb grille. She lived in an humble cot, A maid of high degree, And many knew her not, For very poor Avas she. The proud heart came not there, The haughty passed her by, For little did they care For such as her, and why ? They knew that she was poor, But little else they knew ; Of those who passed her door There entered in but few. Her mother late had died, Her father sick was laid, And oft, and oft she cried "There's none to help this maid ;- "Oh, mother, from thy throne, Look down and bless thy child, Thy child so sad and lone In this bleak world so wild." MISCELLANEOUS POETRY. 75 Perhaps the angels heard The prayer the maid had given, And entered every word Upon the book of heaven. God called her from this earth, Where even Hope was dim, And now she dwells above, In endless peace with him. 76 MISCELLANEOUS POETRY. Jantocll. Farewell ! I'll shed my tears for thee Wherever I may roam, And often they shall fall, and free, For her I've left at home. There's pleasure in a silent tear, And oft a tear shall flow; And oh ! believe me, hearts sincere, Alone this bliss can know. For truant hearts can never weep, Or feel this joy divine; But those which hold affections deep Can shed their tears with mine. And every tear-drop in my eye Shall bring my thoughts to thee, And wring from out my breast a sigh, For her so loved by me. Then let me weep ; why should I cease, When weeping 's joy to me ; When every tear-drop brings me peace And loving thoughts of thee? MISCELLANEOUS POETRY. 77 1'lic brought flrcc an |bg Seat I've brought thee an Ivy Leaf, only an Ivy Leaf, From the land of the rose, where the wild heather grows, And the violet blossoms in quiet repose ; — I've brought thee an Ivy Leaf. I'd have brought thee a lily, a beautiful lily, But it would have sighed, till it faded and died, And have drooped in humanity's withering tide, So I brought thee an Ivy Leaf. I'd have brought thee a rose-bud, a fairy-like rose-bud, To place in thy hair and to perfume the air, But it, like the lily, would fade in despair, So I brought thee an Ivy Leaf. An Ivy Leaf green, a bright, beautiful Ivy Leaf, Type of thy heart, and as pure as thou art ; Oh ! wear it forever, love, nearest thy heart ; — I've brought thee an Ivy Leaf. is;, 7 78 MISCELLANEOUS rOETEY. Wat