'Urn Mm ^km Mm ■ ■ 'M< s .mm. m h ■ Tl ■■ 1 ■I ■I ■I 1 ■■ ny gl ■ 1 ■ I H El ■m FROM THE LIBRARY OF REV. LOUIS FITZGERALD BENSON, D. D. BEQUEATHED BY HIM TO THE LIBRARY OF PRINCETON THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY 7?3 2 THE WOMEN OF THE GOSPELC, THE THREE WAKINGS, AND OTHER VERSES. utiiWfii THE WOMEN OF THE GOSPELS THE THREE WAKINGS. AND OTHER VERSES. By the Author of CHRONICLES OF THE SCHONBERG-COTTA FAMILY' #*to ©tJttt'on, tottl) a&biu'onB. LONDON: T. X ELS ON AND SONS, PATERNOSTER ROW EDINBURGH ; AND NEW YORK. 1868. CONTENTS Introduction — Robins and their Sono- Plge €i)t WLomt\\ of t\)t ^os'ptls'. Ministry, Mary the Mother oe our Lord — 1. Age after age has called thee bless'd, 2. Not for thyself thy motherhood, 3. The Hand that strews the earth with flowers, 4. The strongest light casts deepest shade, 5. Thou shalt be crowned, mother blest, Mary Magdalene — 1 Her home lay by that inland sea, 2. No phantoms thus her soul assailed, 3. He suffered her with Him to stay, 4. The meanest creature of His care, 5. The Sabbath that could bring no rest, 6. " My Lord." though dead, yet still " my Lord. 7. A moment since, a sepulchre, 8. Tell all the world the Lord is risen, Salome — She knew not what for them she sought, vi CONTENTS. Tuk Widow of Naim Thy miracles arc no state splendours. Till". SVi;n|'lll\!CHX Content, she takes the lowest place, The Sistkrs ..f BZTHAKT — 1. What hope lit up those sisters' gloom, 2. Mary, the only riory sweet, 8. What joy to live beneath the eyes, Tin Inn \mi s. WOU n 1. The hand that might have drawn aside, •J. She bathed His feet with many a tear, 3. " He turned to her.'' All eyes beside, 4. He prized her love, He held it dear, 5. Forgiveness may then yet be mine. & He clothes thy soul in spotless dress. 45 The Two Alabastek Boxi - 1. When Thou, in patient ministry 2. Love is the true economist. Z\)t €\)\(c Ulahtngs. Tin Tin;! i WaKINOB, 71 £oncjs nntf fepmn*. i DKM V'.i in i i! Till \ I I'lM ■ 1 1] s i i v \. Tin POBO] i mi N (is i ill I Ol \\ i mi \ 1 vl I ill I i. DOO, 103 COXTEXTS. A Journey on the South-Devon Railway. Italy, May Song, The Northern Spring. The Three Trances, Waiting, .. The Pathways of the Holy Land, Veiled Angels. The Poet of Poets, The Poet's Daily Bread, Suggested ey the Prometheus Bound, The Betrayal of the Yucatan Islanders, St. Francis D'Assisi's Canticum Solis, The Well at Sychar, Only that the Sun is Coming, How doth Death Speak of our Beloved? The Last Enemy, The Two Accusations, The Two Eeproaches, Tbe Thorns of Life, Sowing in Tears, .. Ma rah and Elim, .. The Child on the Judgment-Seat, .. The Cruse that Faileth not, The Way, the Truth, and the Life "He Saved Others," '* Talitha Cumi '." .. Gethsemane. Eureka. The Gospel in the Lord's Supper. Around a Tarle, not a Tomb, New Year's Hymn, Early Rising Hymn, Vlll CONTENTS. Sunday Evenino Hymn, Song run an Infant School, .. " It is I ; be not Afraid," Rest for the Heavy Laden, " My Strenoth and my Heart Faileth," God is J " Summer in the Soll," Never Further than Thy Cross. .. The Fold and the Palace, On a Baptism, Baby Alice, The Power ok Life, The Still Waters of the Valley. .. " Hither to Me!" Holiest Night ! " "What Thou wilt, O my Father, and When," To our American CoubOfB, Page 207 209 211 213 215 210 22] 223 225 227 232 241 243 245 249 filemovial & ? rr£t£l. In Mi:.M"i;v 01 File* ROYAL HlGHNEriS THE FRIN< I OOHBOBT, The Shadow of Death and " the Shadow oi The School and the IIomk, It is no Dsbam, " Thi .kkii:j. L LZAB1 B," .. All Li\ ■ unto II im. To One at RraT. .. $[nir0&iutt0n. ROBINS AND THEIR SONGS. OBIN to the bare bou^L dinging; What can this blithe music mean? Like a hidden fount, thy singing Seems to clothe the woods with green. Rest nor roof from cold nor danger Here rewards thy faithful stay ; Sing'st thou, little homeless stranger, For the crumbs we strewed to-day \ Other birds have fled this dun light, Soaring on to regions bright, Singing in the richest sunlight, Singing 'neath the starry night, Hiding in the broad-leafed shadows Of the southern woods at noon, io INTRODUCTION. Filling all the flower-starred meadows With the melodies of June. Knowest thou the woods have voices, Which like light the heart unfold. Till it trembles and rejoices, Growing deep that joy to hold; Pouring music like a river, Many-toned and deep and strong, — Tones by which, like childhood's, quiver Thy few notes of simple song. Then the "crimson-tipped" thii. Like a daisy among birds, With a quiet glee did sing Songs condensed thus in words: — •• Well 1 know the joyous maz Of the songs so full and fine : Very faint would be God's praises Sounded by no voice but mine. " Yet the little child's woei laughter Wakes it no responsive smile, — Though the poet aingeth afb And the angels all the while? MOB AYS AND THEIR SOXGS. 1 1 u ^liat I sing I cannot measure,. Why I sing I cannot say; But I know a well of pleasure Springeth in my heart all day." So I learned that crumbs are able Lowly hearts to fill with song ? — Crumbs from off a festal table Lowly hearts will join ere long. He who winter days hath given. With the snows gives snow-drops birth ; And while angels sing in heaven. God hears robins sing on earth. Only keep thee on the wing, Music dieth in the dust ; Nothing that but creeps can sing, All hearts that soar heavenward must. THE WOMEN OF THE GOSPELS. t i MINISTRY The Son of man came not to be ministered unto, but to minister IXCE service is the highest lot, And all are in one Body bound, In all the world the place is not Which may not with this bliss be crowned. The sufferer on the bed of pain Need not be laid aside from this, But for each kindness gives again " The joy of doing kindnesses." The poorest may enrich this feast; Not one lives only to receive, But renders through the hands of Clirist Richer returns than man can give. The little child in trustful glee, With love and gladness brimming o'er, Many a cup of ministry May for the weary veteran pour. 16 THE WOMEN OF THE GOSP£LS. Tho lonely glory of a throne May yet this lowly joy preserve ; Love may make that a stepping-stone, And raise "I reign" into "I serve." This, by the ministries of prayer, The loneliest life with blessings crowds, Can consecrate each petty care, Make angels' ladders out of clouds. Nor serve we only when we gird Our hearts for special ministry; That creature best has ministered Which is what it was meant to be. Birds by being glad their Maker bless, By simply shining sun and star; And we, whose law is love, serve less By what we do than what we are. Since service is the highest lot, And angels know no higher bliss, Then with what good her cup is fraught Who was created but for this ! MARY. MARY THE MOTHER OF JESUS. I. " All generations shall call me blessed.'' GE after age lias called thee bless' d, Yet none have fathomed all thy bliss Mothers,, who read the secret best, Or angels,- — yet its depths must miss. To dwell at home with Him for years, And prove His filial love thine own; In all a mother's tender cares To serve thy Saviour in thy Son ! To see before thee day by day That perfect life expand and shine, And learn by sight, as angels may, All that is holy and Divine ! Well may we heap thy blessing up From age to age, from land to land, 1 8 THE WOMEN OF THE COS PELS. Since Christ Himself that brimming cup Gives 1" the lowliest Christian's hand, The measure of a blessedness Yet by that measure unexpress'd ; Sealing the mother's joy with " )'■ The Christian's, with J lis " rather bles^d." MARY. 10 II. THE MARRIAGE AT CAN" A. Yea, rather, blessed are they who hear the word of God, and keep it." OT for thyself thy motherhood, Not for thy home that life-stream springs For thee then, too, the higher good Must come through death of lower things. The village home so sweet to thee "With joys so hallowed and complete, For Him no Father's House could be. Xo limit for thy Saviour's feet. The will long meekly bowed to thine Now calmly claims its sovereign place, And takes a range of love Divine Thy mortal vision cannot trace. On us that mild reproof falls cold, — The words, and not the tone, we hear ; THE WOMEN OF THE GOSPELS. On thee, who knewest Him of old, It casts no shade of doubt or fear. For thy meek heart has read Him true, And, bowing, wins His " rather bk> " Whatever He saith unto you, do," Embracing as its rule and rest. Then through earth's ruins heaven shines bright : The widest sphere, the dearest home, Save that where Christ is Lord and Light, Were but at last the spirit's tomb. Thus, laying down thy special bliss, Thou winnest joy, all joy above, — The endless joy of being His, And sharing in His works of love. MARY. 2i III. THE MARRIAGE AT CAXA. HE Hand tha,t strews the earth with flowers Enriched the marriage feast with wine; The Hand once pierced for sins of ours This morning made the dew-drops shine; Makes rain-clouds palaces of art, Makes ice-drops beauteous as they freeze; The Heart that bled to save, — that Heart Sends countless gifts each day to please; Spares no minute refining touch To paint the flower, to crown the feast, Deeming no sacrifice too much, — Has care and leisure for the least; Gives freely of its very best, Not barely what the need may be, But for the joy of making blest. — Teach us to love and give like Thee 1 THE WOMEN OF THE GOSPELS. Not narrowly men's claims to measure, But question daily all our powers: To whose cup can we add a pleasure? Whose path can we make bright with flowers? MARY. 23 IV. THE CROSS. " Now there stood by the cross of Jesus His mother.' HE strongest light casts deepest shade, The dearest love makes dreariest loss ; And she His birth so blest had made Stood by Him dying on the cross. Yet, since not grief but joy shall last, The day and not the night abide, And all time's shadows, earthward cast, Are lights upon the " other side ; " Through what long bliss that shall not fail, That darkest hour shall brighten on ! Better than any angel's "Hail ! " The memory of " Behold thy son ! " Blest in thy lowly heart to store The homage paid at Bethlehem, 24 THE WOMEN OF THE GOSPELS. But far more blessed evermore Tims to have shared the taunts and shame ; Thus with thy pierced heart to have stood 'Mid mocking crowds, and owned Him thine : True through a world's ingratitude, And owned in death by lips Divine. .VARY V. THE GROWX. HOI7 shalt be crowned, mother blest ! Our hearts behold thee crowned e'en now The crown of motherhood, earth's best. O'ershadowing thy maiden brow. Thou shalt be crowned ! More fragrant bays Than ever poet's brows entwine, For thine immortal hymn of praise, First Singer of the Church, are thine. Thou shalt be crowned ! All earth and heaven Thy coronation pomp shall see ; The Hand by which thy crown is given Shall be no stranger s hand to thee. Thou shalt be crowned ! But not a queen ; A better triumph ends thy strife : Heaven's bridal raiment, white and clean, The victor's crown of fadeless life. 26 THE WOMEX OE THE GOSPELS. Thou slialt be crowned ! But not alonr, No lonely pomp shall weigh thee down ; Crowned with the myriads round His throne, And casting at His fcot thy crown. MAR 3 * MA CDALEXE. 2 7 MARY MAGDALENE 1. ER home lay by that inland sea "Which sacred memories so embalm That Magdala and Galilee Ring like the music of a psalm. Deep in the lake the far hills glow, dear shine each peak and golden spire, And Hermon lifts his brow of snow Unsullied to that sky of fire. From point to point gleamed cities white. Full of the joyous stir of life. And o'er the wav - bounded light : All was with eager movement rife Fresh streams across Gennesaret danced, Laughing with corn and countless fruits. And met the quiet waves which glanced Bathing the oleander roots. 28 THE WOMEN OF THE GOSPELS. Yet many a calm recess for prayer Those lnlls enshrined which circling stood, Wild steeps which to men's homes brought near The sanctity of solitude. But vainly, round her and beneath Earth poured her wealth, as evermore Flows Jordan to the Sea of Death, And leaves it bitter as before. MA R ] r MA GDALENE. 2 9 II. " Out of whom He cast seven devils." phantoms thus her soul assailed, It was no vision of the night, No dim unreal mist, that veiled The glad reality of light ; No discord of weet strings unstrung A skilful touch might tune again, No jar of nerves too tightly wrung, No shadows of an o'erwrought brain ; But din of mocking voices rude, Spirits whose touches left a stain, Owning no shrine of solitude Their blasphemies might not profane : Real as the earth she, hopeless, trod, Ileal as the heaven they had lost, Real as the soul they kept from God, From torture still to torture tossed. THE WOMEN OF THE GOSPELS. Thus sleep to ber could bring no calm. No stillness dwelt for her in night; And human love could yield no balm, And homo no deep and pure delight ; Till light upon that chaos broke, — Not from unconscious azure skies, — The morning that her spirit woke Beamed from the depths of human eyes. No thunder, with God's vengeance dread, Scattered that company of hell ; It was a Voice from which they fled, A Voice they knew before they fell. Once more she was alone and free, And silence all her soul possessed : As the "great calm" the storm-tossed sen When the same voice commanded rest. Such solitude a heaven might make. Such silence had for bliss sufficed ; What Avas it, then, from hell to wake, And wake beneath the smile of Chi MA R V MA GDA L ENE. 3 1 III. And certain women, which had been healed of evil spirits and infirmities, Mary, called Magdalene, which ministered unto Him of their substance." E suffered her with Him to stay, This crowning joy was not denied, — To hear His voice from day to day, And tread this earth still by His side : Where, with a diadem of snow, The white-walled cities crowned the rocks, Or peasants' dwellings far below, Couched round the fountains like their flocks. She saw the expressive glance of sight The dulness of blind eyes replace ; . When learning first the joy of light, For the first sight they saw His face. She heard the first clear accents pour From dumb lips, uttering His name ; 3* THE WOMEN OF THE GOSPELS. She saw men's homes from shore to shore Break into sunshine where He came. She saw the long possessed set free, She knew the anguish and the bliss ; She saw the baffled Pharisee, And felt, "Man never spake like this." She heard reluctant fiends confess The Godhead they had fain denied ; She saw the little children press With fearless fondness to His side. She saw the speechless joy that clay Light up the widow's face at Nain ; She never saw one sent away, She never heard one plead in vain. She saw Him faint and wearied sore, And toil those gracious eyes bedim, Thirsting and hungered, homeless, poor, — ■ She saw and ministered to Him. She saw His brow its light regain, And strength reknit cadi wearied limb, All t<> be spent for man again; — A woman's service succoured Him! MA R 1 ' MA GDA L EXE. 3 3 And are those days for ever o'er ? Must earth be of that joy bereft ? — The sights and sounds are here no more, And yet the very best is left. Still may we follow in His way, And tread this earth as by His side ; May see Him work from day to day. As in His presence we abide : See Him shed light on darkened eyes, The bowed and fettered heart set free ; May succour, serve, and sacrifice, And hear from heaven His "unto Me." 34 THE WOMEN OF THE GOSPELS. IV. DURABLE RICHES. HE meanest creature of His care Finds some soft nest to greet it made, The hunted beast has yet its lair ; — He had not where to lay His head. And scarce a little child that dies But has its treasured things to share ; Its little store of legacies Love hoards thenceforth with sacred care. He left no treasure to divide ; E'en the poor garments which He wore Were share. I by strangers ere He died, For their own worth, and nothing more. Y' t when the first disciples trod Vineyards and fields of other men, Pilgrims beside the Son of ( k)d, Had loyal grants enriched them then ' MA R ) ' MA GDALEXE. 3 5 Or when, on His ascension day, They stood once more on Olivet, And town and village 'neath them lay, Gems in their vines and olives set. — ■ Xor vines or olives, house or lands, They owned those hills or valleys o'er, Yet, when Christ lifted up His hands And bless' d them, were those Christians poor ? If of that world which is His own, Where every knee to Him shall bow, Some special acres each had won, Had they been richer then, or nowf ->-^-*Il-~ - 3 r > THE WOMEN OF THE GOSPELS. The first day of the week cometh Mary Magdalene early, when it was yet dark, unto the sepulchre." HE Sabbath that could bring no rest, The weary day at length had fled What Sabbath could again be blest Since He who promised rest was dead ? The guilty world was hushed in gloom, Night on its sleeping millions lay Like the "great stone" upon His tomb — What if it never rolled away ! But o'er her path there fell a shade No darkness from her heart could hide: The tomb in which the Lord was laid Was near the cross on which He died. Beneath that cross she stood again : The tortured form no more she saw ; His murderers wore religious men. Nor dropped one letter of the law ; MA K Y MA GDA LEXE. 3 7 His cry of agony might smite Strange discord through their measured prayer; And who, when death those lips made white, Could silence the reproaches there ? Thus Earth among the spheres moved on, And calmly kept her ordered course, Bearing the cross of God the Son, And in her heart His lifeless corpse : Nor yet was blotted out of space, Nor yet the brand of Cain doth bear ; Because, through His surpassing grace, That cross pleads not " Avenge," but "Spare." #*^s^3 THE WOMEN OF THE GOSPELS. VI They have taken away my Lord. Y Lord," though dead, yet still " my Lord: Prophet through love's tenacity, Powerless to hope, she yet adored, And felt the truth she could not see. If He who in Himself had shone All that God is, all man may be, Living the truth else guessed by none, Through years of patient ministry ; He from Whom life and peace she drew, Whom she had followed day by day, And worshipped more, the more she knew, Could fade to cold unconscious clay ; If thai pure life of perfect love, Extinguished, never more should beam, What joy could endless days above Bring ever more, not bringing Him ? MAR V MA GDALENE, 3 9 What were those angel-forms to her, Their radiant forms and raiment white, If dead within a sepulchre He lay, Himself the Life and Light ? Thus when the bridge of faith was rent, "Which could have firmly spanned the gulf, Love prostrate o'er the chasm leant, And bridged the dark abyss herself 4° Till: WOMEN OF THE GOSPELS. VII. Jesus saith unto her, Mary. She turned herself and saith unto Him, Rsbboni; which is to say, Master.'' MOMENT since, a sepulchre Was all the world she cared to own, An empty tomb, vain balms and myrrh, Tears with no heart to shed them on. And now the living Lord was there, Immortal, glorious, yet the same ; The voice the fiends once fled in fear Now spoke the old familiar name. No language could that bliss have told, She had no words the joy to greet ; She said but " Master ! " as of old, And rested silent at His feet. Yet all heaven's choirs could scarcely twine A music more profound and sweet Tlian when, as from lli^ heart to thine, Thus "Mary!" and "Rabboni !" meet. MA R Y MA GDA L ENE. 4 1 VIII. " Go quickly and tell His disciples that He is riseu." ggr|ELL all the world the Lord is risen- I |s9 The Easter message, ever new ; The grave is but a ruined prison, Invincible, the Life breaks through. Earth cannot long ensepiilchre In her dark depths the tiniest seed ; When life begins to throb and stir, The bands of death are weak indeed. No clods its upward course deter, Calmly it makes its path to day ; One germ of life is mightier Than a whole universe of clay. Yet not one leaf-blade ever stirred, Bursting earth's wintry dungeons dim, But lived at His creative word, Responsive to the life in Him. A 2 THE WOMEN OF THE GOSPELS. Since, then, the life that He bestows Thus triumphs over death and earth ; What power of earth or death can close The Fountain whence all life has birth \ And, as the least up-springing grain Breathes still the resurrection song, That light the victory shall gain, That death is weak, and life is strong; So, with immortal vigour rife, The lowliest life that faith has freed Bears witness still that Christ is life, And that the Life is risen indeed. SALOME. 43 SALOME. She saith unto Him, Grant that these my two sons may sit, the one on Tby right hand, and the other on the left, in Thy kingdom. But Jesus answered and said, Ye know not what ye ask." HE knew not what for them she sought. At His right hand and left to sit ; How great the glory, passing thought. How rough the path that led to it. They knew not what of Him they asked, But He their deeper sense distilled ; Gently the selfish wish unmasked, But all the prayer of love fulfilled. Pride souQ-ht to lift herself on hio-h And heard but of the bitter cup ; Love would bat to her Lord be nigh, And w^on her measure full, heaped up With vision of His glory blest, Stood on the mountain by His side, 4 } THE WOMEN OF THE GOSPELS. Leaned at the supper on His breast, Stood close beneath Him when He died. One brother shared His cup of woe, The second of His martyr-band ; One, by His glory smitten low, Rose at the touch of His right hand. Thus, when by earth's cross lights perplexed, We crave the thing that should not be, God, reading right our erring text, Gives what we would ask, could we see. -**&.. THE WIDOW OF X A IX. 45 THE WIDOW OF XAIX. HY miracles are no state splendours, Whose pomps Thy daily works excel ; The rock which breaks the stream, but renders Its constant current audible ; The power which startles us in thunders Works ever silently in light ; And mightier than these special wonders, The wonders daily in our sight : Rents in the veils Thy works that fold. They let the inner light shine through ; The rent is new, the light is old, Eternal, never ever new. And therefore, when Thy touch arrests The bearers of that bier at Nain, Warm on unnumbered hearts it rests, Though yet their dead live not again. [6 THE WOMEN OF THE GOSPELS. And Thy compassionate "Weep not!" ()n tins our tearful earth once heard, For every age with comfort fraught, Tells how Thy hear! is ever Btirred. Nature repeats the tale each year, She feels Thy touch through countless springs, And, rising from her wintry bier, Throws oil' her grave-clothes, lives and sings. And when Thy touch through earth shall thrill, This bier whereon our race is laid, And, for the first time standing still. The long procession of the dead At Thy "Arise !" shall wake from clay, Young, deathless, freed from every stain ; When Thy " Weep not ! " shall wipe away Tears that shall uever come again ; When the strong chains of death are hurst, And lips long dumb begin to speak, What name will each then utter first? — What music shall that silence break I THE SYROPHENICIAN. 47 THE SYROPHENICIAN. " Great is thy faith." OXTEXT, she takes the lowest place. He knows what strain her faith will bear ; Low in the valleys flows His grace, He does but gently lead her there. Then in the depths to her He comes, And meets her nothing with His all. Creation lives upon the crumbs Which from that Master's table fall ; But thou, faith, not thus art fed ! For thee the heavenly homes are built ; Thy portion is the children's bread, And " Be it to thee as thou wilt." 4^ THE WOMEN OF THE GOSPELS. THE SISTERS OF BETHANY. Wlion TTo had heard, therefore, that he was sick, Ho abode two days still in the same place where He was. " HAT hope lit up those sisters' gloom, When first they sent His help to crave, So sure that, hearing, He would come, And, coming, could not fail to save ! Counting the distance o'er again, Deeming Him near and yet more near ; Till hope, on heights she climbed in vain, Lay frozen to a death -like fear : Watching with twofold strain intent The expected steps, the failing breath, Till hope and fear, together spent, Sank in the common blank of death, "Beyond this burning waste of hills, Beyond thai awful glittering sea, THE SIS TERS OF BE THA NY. 49 'Mid those blue mountains lin^erin^ still, Have our faint prayers not reached to Thee? " Or are the joys and griefs of earth To Thee, whose eyes survey the whole, But passing things of little worth. That should not deeply stir the soul \ " His tears ere long shall hush that fear For every mourning heart for ever ; And we, who now His words can hear Beyond the hills, beyond the river, Know that as true a watch He kept On those far heights, as at their side, Feeling the tears the sisters wept, Marking the hour the brother died. Xo faintest sigh His heart can miss ; E'en now His feet are on the way. "With richest counter-weight of bliss Heaped up for even' hour's delay ; That nevermore should hope deferred Make sick the heart which trusts in Him, But, nourished by His faithful "Word, Grow brighter still as sight grows dim. 4 50 77 IE WOMEN OF THE COS PIUS. IT. She hath done what she ould. Verily I say unto you, Wheresoever this gospel shall be preached throughout the whole world, this also that she hath done shall be spoken of for a memorial of her." ARY, the only glory sweet To any Christian's heart is thine ! Hidden beside the Master's feet, Lost in that dearer light to shine ; Whilst evermore the heart obeys The sermon of thy listening looks, Learning religion from thy gaze Better than from a thousand books. Thy silence is His sweetest psalm, While from His lips thy name distils, And. dropping like thy precious balm, Ever His house witli fragrance fills. qjt^£2£?y— '-— - THE SISTERS OF BETHANY. 51 III. Martha, Martha, thou art careful and troubled about many things, but one thing is needful; and Mary hath chosen that good part, which shall not be taken away from her." HAT joy to live beneath the eyes Which looked the spirit " through and through," Which penetrated each disguise, And would not let us be untrue ; Yet through the thickest veil descried The little spring of good below, And pierced the icy crust of pride, That happy, humble tears might flow ; Rending each soft disguise, which spares The evil thing by gentle name, — For sinners founts of pitying tears, But for the sin unquenched flame : That saw the very spot within On which to lay the healing touch ; 52 THE WOMEN OF THE GOSPELS. That had no pity for the sin, Because for those who sinned so nuich That marked through Peter's boast his dread, Yet, by his curses unperplexed, Looked through them to the light, and read The traces of the earlier text ; Beneath the black "I know Him not," "TliowknovJst I love Thee" still could trace, In graven characters inwrought, No darkest stains could quite efface ; That knew, through all vibrations fixed, The true direction of the will, — Saw self with Martha's service mixed, And love in Mary's sitting still. Those eyes still watch us, not from far, Still pitying "look us through and through," And through the broken sketch we are, Foresee the heavenly likeness true ; Through all its soft and silken dress The creature of the dust descry, Yet 'neath the shapeless chrysalis The Psyche moulding for the sky. THE UNNAMED WOMEN. 53 THE UNNAMED WOMEN. T. HE hand that might have drawn aside The veil, which from unloving sight Those shrinking forms avails to hide, With tender care has wrapped it tight. He would not have the sullied name Once fondly spoken in a home, A mark for strangers' righteous blame, Branded through every age to come. And thus we only speak of them As those on whom His mercies meet, — "She whom the Lord would not condemn," And " She who bathed with tears His feet." Trusted to no evangelist, First heard where sins no more defile, Read from the Book of Life by Christ, And consecrated by His smile. 54 THE WOMEN OE THE GOSPELS. II. And stood at His feet behind Him weeping, and began to wash His feet with tears." HE bathed His feet with many a tear, Feet wearied then for us so oft ; She wiped them with her flowing hair Embalmed with reverent touches soft. She knew not of the bitter way Those sacred feet had yet to tread, Nor how the nails would pierce one day Where now her costly balms were shed. She read the pity in His eyes. To peace transmuting her despair ; She could not read what agonies Must cloud the heaver she gazed on there. He praised her love, her sacrifice, But breathed not what His own must be, Nor hinted what must be the price Which made her pardon flow so free. THE UXXAMED WQMEX. 55 Then if her love and gifts were such, Who little knew the depths of His ; If then indeed she "loved" Him "much" How, since she knows Him as He is ? 5 6 THE WOMEN OF THE GOSPELS. III. lie turned to the woman. E turned to her." All eyes beside,— All other eyes of righteous men, Avoided hers with virtuous pride, Nor could she meet their gaze again. Nor could she deem their coldness wrong ; That virtue of the Pharisee, Only in its negations strong. Ceasing to freeze might cease to be. And human virtues can but be As tender flowers a touch may kill, Scorched if winds "breathe too fervently, Nipped if they chance to blow too chill. But His were of another sphere That never stain nor change could know. No earth-born flowers, however fair, Bui the pure light which made them grow THE UNNAMED WOMEN. 57 No ice pure only till it melt, But streams most fresh in freest flow ; The living love, whose pureness dwelt Not in its coldness but its glow. 5* 77//-: 1IV.UEX OF THE GOSPELS. IV. She hath washed my feet with tears, and wiped them with the hairs of her head. . . . This woman, since the time I came in, hath not ceased to kiss my feet. . . . Hath anointed my feet with ointment She loved much. " pJfE prized her love, He held it dear, He felt each ministering touch, : He marked each gift she offered there, Tie cared that she should love Him " mucli." His pity was no careless alms The happy to the wretched fling; He prized her love, her tears, her balms. Then life was yet a precious thing ; Precious the love He held of price, Precious each moment which mighi bring Some privilege of sacrifice, Seme vase to break in offering. And God gives evermore like this, civcs by His measure, not by ours; THE UNNAMED WOMEN. 59 By life raeaiis not mere being, but hi Free exercise of joyful powers. The freedom with which He makes free Is freedom of His home above ; "Not merely liberty to be } But liberty to serve and love. (>o THE WOMEN OF THE GOSPELS. V. Thy sins are forgiven thee." ORGIVENESS may then yet be mine, The sinless lips have said 'Forgiven ;' Pardon is then a right Divine, And love indeed the law of heaven. But can the sullied snow grow white ? What spell can seal the memory fast ? What has been ever must have been, The Almighty cannot change the past. His eyes though piercing as the light, In pity may refuse to see ; But what can make my memory white? What veil can hide myself from me?" Oh ! raise thy downcast eyes to His, And read the blessed secret there ; The pardoning love from guilt that frees, By living thee shall make thee fair. THE UNNAMED WOMEN 61 Love's deepest depth of saving woe Has yet to be to thee revealed ; Blood from that tender heart must flow, And thus thy bitter streams be healed. Thy guilt and shame on Him must lie : Then search the past thy guilt to see ; Instead, this sight shall meet thine eye, — Thy Saviour on the cross for thee ! 6-' THE WOMEN OF THE GOSPELS. VI. " Go In peace " E clothes thy soul in spotless dress, In bridal raiment white and clean, The spirit's bridal robe of peace, Siot of the inward grace unseen. The love that sweeps thy spirit o'er, Effacing every stain of sin, Flows through thy spirit evermore, A well of heavenly life within. Thus, hallowed names, forgotten long, Familiar names which once were thine. With all the old attraction strong, Embrace thy soul from lips Divine. Soft from a Father's house above Floats dowo on thee the name of child, From love beyond the mother's love Which on thy guiltless childhood smiled. THE UNNAMED 1V0MEX. 63 And when the age its circuit ends, And the great marriage-day is there, And from the heavens a Bride descends, Thou, clothed in white, the bliss shalt share. 64 THE WOMEN OF THE GOSPELS. THE TWO ALABASTER BOXES. " A woman in the city, which was a sinner, brought an alabaster box of oint- ment, and anointed His feet." " Being in Bethany, there came a woman, having an alabaster box of ointment of spikenard, very precious ; and she brake the box, and poured it on His head." HEN Thou, in patient ministry, Didst pass a stranger through Thy land, Two costly gifts were offered Thee, And each was from a woman's hand. To Thee, who madest all things fair, Twice fair and precious things they bring; — Pure sculptured alabaster clear, Perfumes for earth's anointed King. Man's hasty lips would both reprove, — ( >ne for the stain of too much sin, One for the waste of too much love ; Yrt both availed Thv smile to win. THE TWO ALABASTER BOXES. 65 The saint who listened at Thy feet, The sinner sinners scorned to touch, Adoring in Thy presence meet, Both pardoned and both loving much. Thus evermore to all they teach, Man's highest style is "much forgiven:" And that earth's lowest yet may reach The highest ministries of heaven. They teach that gifts of costliest price From hearts sin beggared yet may pour ; And that love's costliest sacrifice Is worth the love, and nothing more. ■ '-' . 66 THE WOMEN (>/■ THE GOSPELS. II. OVE is the true economist. Her weights and measures pass in heaven What others lavish on the feast. ►She to the Lord Himself hath given. Love is the true economist. She through all else to Him hath sped. And unreproved His feet hath kissed. And spent her ointments on His head. Love is the true economist. She breaks the box, and gives her all ; Yet not one precious drop is missed. Siner on Hi> head and feet they fall. \n all her fervent zeaJ n<> haste, She at Bis feet sits --hid and calm ; In all her lavish gifts no waste, The broken vase but fives the halm. THE TWO ALABASTER BOXES. ' > Love is the truest providence. Since beyond time her gold is good : Stamped for man's mean 'three hwndred _/ • With Christ's " She hath done what she cou.U." Love is the best economist In what she sows and what she reap- : She lavishes her all on Christ. And in His all her being THE THREE WAKINGS. mm THE THREE WAKINGS Among the ancient Laplanders magic was an hereditary art. There were, however, some magicians of a higher character, to whom, in three super- natural sicknesses or trances — one in childhood, one in youth, and one in manhood — the spirits themselves taught the secrets of the invisible world. These were honoured hy the whole nation as seers. — Mane. ' 11 I AkiU'mesi. — The poet-child plays on the margin of the River of Life. There the First Trance overpowers him. lie awakens from it to the wonderful beauty of the universe. The magic boat bears him away from the broad a of life to the regions of fancy. There the Second Trance over- shadows him. In it he is aroused to the sense of duty and the n of work. He girds hirnself for the strife. In the flush of the triumph which succeeds it, he is overcome by the Third Trance. In it are revealed to him the grace of God, redemption, and the free service of love. T. ESIDE the ancient river The infant poet played. The grave old rocks above him Laughed at the mirth he made. The boat that bore him thither Lay idle on the shore, THE THREE WAKINGS. His pearly boat that fast could floal Without or sail or oar. The fresh young leaves on the hoar old trees Quivered and fluttered in glee, And the merry rills from the mighty hills Shouted as loud as he. The birds poured jo}^ous welcomes, For they deemed him one of them ; And the snowdrop laughed in her quiet joy, Till she shook on her delicate stem. Broad is that ancient river, And its depths no sailor knows ; Tt comes from a place no foot can trace, 'Mid the clouds and the ancient snows ; And on its breast is bounding Many a gallant bark ; — (Do they know that at last o'er a chasm vast It leaps into the dark ?) But to the child its waters Were his playmates glad and sweet, Chasing cadi other merrily To bathe his snowy feel ; THE THREE WAKINGS. The starry hosts above him Were the flowers of the sky, Too high, perhaps, to gather, But too beautiful to die ; The world with all its wonders. Its heavens and its sea, Was his play-room, full of playmates, Each one as glad as he. But as he laughed and gambolled Strange languor o'er him stole ; His eyes grew dim, and faint each limb, And dark the sunny soul, Till the green earth in pity Folded him to her breast, And birds and waves and breezes Lulled liiru to quiet rest. II. Sweet Spring the earth was treading When he broke that magic trance, THE THREE WAKINGS. Rose from the ground, and gazed mound With a !i*'\v and rapturous glance. Had the 1 night earth and heavens Expanded as he slept, That such a tide of light and joy Around his senses swept ? Not a leaf nor a wing could quiver — Not a breeze the waters moved, But it thrilled through sense and spirit, Like the voice of one beloved. The sun in his robes of glory From his depths of light on high, — Each lowly flower from its dewy bower, Beamed like a loving eye. He sate at the feet of Nature In love and wonder meek ; Had he then learned to listen, Or had she learned to speak '. The world was a royal palace, And no stranger guest was he ; As the silvery fish in the si Ivory brook Leaps in its wanton glee- THE THREE WAKINGS. ;5 As the lark iii the air and sunshine When the early mists are curled,- — His spirit bathed and revelled In the beauty of the world He sought not his joy to utter, He was content to see : It was enough to listen — It was enough to be ! He had rejoiced for ever In this Eden to abide, But the pearly boat began to float Languidly down the tide. He left the ancient river Where the great navies lay, And glided up a quiet stream From the din and strife away. The waves its prow disparted Made music as it went. Like lyres and lutes and silvery flutes, In sweet confusion blent : Till they came through a rocky portal Roofed witli many a gem, 7 6 /'//A THREE WAKINGS. (But one of the countless number Han his brow wen^ dented deep ; And he woke to a steadfast purpose From the night of thai awful sleep; THE THREE WAKINGS. 79 For a strange and solemn Visitant Beside his couch had been. Clad in the old prophetic garb, And stern with the prophet's mien. What dost thou here '. " she murmured; •What is outshines what seems ; Earth has no room for id:- Life has iiu time for dream-. Seest thou nought of suffering \ Knowest thou nought of sin ': Hast thou not heard the groans without Or felt the sting within : Thy brethren die in prisons, — Thy brethren toil in chain- ; The body is racked by hunger, And the heart has sharper pain-. Gray heads 'neath the weight of labour Are sinking into the grave. And tender hearts are growing hard © © For the want of a hand to save. Thousands of men. thy brethren, Are perishing around ; 8o THE THREE WAKINGS. And thou pourest out thy cup of life Upon the barren ground. " Rise, gird thee for true labour ; Rise, arm thee for the fight. Go forth to earth's old battle-field ; Strike boldly for the right ! " Rise, cast thy dreamings from thee ; Rise, clothed with vigour new ; This fallen earth is no place for mirth ; Arise, go forth and do ! " '■> & v A thrill of fervent purpose Through all his nature ran. And from that sleep of visions deep The Boy awoke a Man. He trod with a Bteadfast aspect Through beauty and weal and ill. And his eyes were lit and his frame was knit By the strength of a fixed Mill. And the sun to his strong purpose Was but the lamp of life, — The abounding earth, in her beauty and mirth, But the field of the mortal strife. THE THREE WAKINGS. Si Where the nations lay cold and torpid, 'Neath ages of wrong and shame, "With the patience of love the poet toiled Till life to the stiff limbs came. In the thick uf the ancient battle, "Where the strong bear down the weak, "With the flaming swords of living words. He fought for the poor and meek. "Wherever were wrongs tu be righted, Or sick to be soothed and upheld ; Or a generous deed lay hidden, Or a generous purpose quelled ; Or a noble heart lay sinking, For the want of a cheering word ; — - The music of his earnest voice Above the din was heard. Till the sneer of scorn was silenced, And the tongue of envy hushed, And a tumult of wild, exulting praise Throughout the nations rushed. And they hailed him King and Hero, And hasted his steps to greet ; 6 82 THE THREE WAKINGS. And they crowned him with a golden crown, And bowed beneath his feet. But yet once more the shadow Over his soul was thrown, And he on the height of his human might Lay desolate and lone ; Till, in his helpless anguish, His spirit turned on high. And he called on the God of his childhood With a loud and bitter cry : "O God, they call me Hero, And bow the reverent knee, But I am not God, nor a godlike man. That thus they kneel to me. "They call me Lord and Master; They call me just and good ; And I cannot stay my failing breath, Nor do the things I would. "They cry on me for succour, But in me is no might to save ; They hail me as one immortal. And I Mnk into the grave. THE THREE WAKINGS. 83 "Thou — only Thou — art Holy ; With Thee, with Thee, is might ; O stay me with Thy love arid strength, O clothe me with Thy light IV. It was no spell of slumber Wliich came upon him then, Xo fitful gleams of a land of dreams Which burst on his dazzled ken : But he stood upon the border- Of the land which we see afar. Where earth's firmest ground dissolves away, And men see things as they are. He saw a young child standing In a famine-stricken land, Entrusted with a bounteous store, The gifts of a gracious hand. He saw it scatter its treasures In idle and thankless waste ; And when from its idlesse startled, It gave away the rest. 84 THE THREE WAKINGS. And the grateful people hastened To garland its guilty head, — It took the homage as its due, Then cried like the rest for bread. And stung with shame and anguish, He cried, "It is I ; it is I ; Father, forgive, forgive my sin ! " And he cried with a bitter cry. That cry reached the heart of the Father : Once more he looked on high, And in the depths of heaven, — In the calm of the upper sky, — He saw 'midst the sea of glory, — A glory surpassing bright, One crowned with a Crown of Inheritance, Clad in unborrowed li all ; THE THREE WAKINGS. 85 No service was for Him too mean, No care of love too small. But men paid Him no homage, They crowned Him with no crown ; And the dying bed they made for Him Was not a bed of down. What more then met his vision Falls dimly on mortal ears ; The angels were mute with wonder, And the poet with grateful tears. The rebel will was broken, The captive heart was free, — O Lord of all, who servedst all, Let me Thy servant be ! " He woke ; once more he found him In the home where he played a child ; His mother held his feverish hand. His sisters wept and smiled. He loved them more than ever, With a pure and fervent love ; He loved God's sun and earth and skies, Though his home lay far above. 86 THE THREE WAKINGS. His poet's crown lay near him Fused to a golden cup ; It would carry water for parched lips, So he thankfully took it up. He went in the strength of dependence To tread where his Master trod, To gather and knit together The family of God : Awhile as a heaven-born stranger To pass through this world of sin, With a heart diffusing the balm of peace From the place of peace within : With a conscience freed from burdens, And a heart set free from care. To minister to every one Always and everywhere. No more on the heights of glory A lonely man he stood ; Around him gathered tenderly A lowly brotherhood. They Bpent their lives for others, Yet tlic world knew them not: THE THREE WAKINGS. &7 It had not known their Master, — And they sought no higher lot. But the angels of heaven knew them. And He knew them who died and rose ; And the poet knew that the lowest place Was that which the Highest chose. &mM& mmmmmm SONGS AND HYMNS ?M^ afs THE GOLDEN AGE IX THE PRESENT. ^|HY sigh we for the tin re. The '■' good old times" that come no more? The oldest day was once to-day : Eacli hour wore in it- settled place As every day a garb and face As those which glide from us away. Nature grows never old : On every dawning soul she dawns anew, And grows and ripens with their growth : Only to spirits winch have lost their } T outh, The heart of love and sense sincere and true. Her living forms seem cold. Sigh not for ancient days with poetry rife, To poets is the poetic age not fled : Go let the dead inter their dead. For to the living there is always life, Nature has still fresh founts of art To pour into the artist's heart ; 92 THE GOLDEN AGE IX THE PRESENT. To eyes fresh bathed in morning dew. The Golden Age shines ever new. Do ocean billows foam less gladly now, Than when the sea-nymphs danced upon the wave ? Curl they less proudly 'neath the swift ship's prow. Upheaving from the coral cave \ Sing they a song less syren sweet, At noontide bathing weary fej Languidly smiling, Softly beguiling, Like lips that faintly move, Murmuring words of love ? Do forest streams less freshly well, Dewing with green the grassy dell, (living the thirsty flowers to drink, Filling their starry eyes with joy, Shedding cool fragrance on the air, Than when the wood-nymphs sported there Or does the waterfall's robe, silver-pale, Wave in the breeze less lightly Than when the Naiad's moonlit veil Gleamed through the dark trees bright!} fc£aa evening a less golden sheen Has morning a less rosy glow \ Are noon-day's arrowy rays less keen Than when Apollo strung the how ) THE GOLDEX AGE IN THE PRESENT. 93 And when at morn in spring The .sun with kisses wakes the earth, And sun-born slavers of golden rain With floods of melody pour forth — Say. are not light and music one again \ Sigh not the old heroic ages back, The heroes were but brave and earnest men ; Do thou but hero-like pursue thy track, — Striving, not sighing, brings them back again ! The hero's path is straight, to do and say God's words and works in spite of toil and shame : Labours enough will meet thee in thy way, So thou forsak'st it not to seek for them. Canst thou no wrong with courage patient bear, Strength to none weaker than thyself impart \ seek from Him who died the hero's heart, And the heroic age for thee is there. Sigh not for simple days of old, The child-like days of love and trust ; There never was an age of gold, And faith makes gold of all earth's dust. The Church's youthful strength grows never gray, Herself a fadeless youth amid the world's decay. Canst thou not love ? has earth no room For all thy heart would give. 94 THE GOLDEN AGE IN THE PRESENT. With all the blessed depths of homo, And myriad hearts that weep and strive \ Are there no desolate and poor To nourish from thy store ? No songs of joy and glowing praise Thy voice might help to rais No heart long left alone Till it grew stiff and chill ; Thy voice might waken with a thrill Of love, long, long unknown ? Is earth too small to hold The yearnings of thy love \ Is there not heaven above As near thee as of old \ Does He who came at Pentecost His presence now withhold, That the first works should e'er be lost, Or the first love grow cold \ Oh, fill thy heart with God, and thou shalt prove That there is left enough to trust and love ! For what is time past but to-day, Mirrored in still pools peacefully The future but the Bame to-d Reflected in a heavh Only the present hour lias lif< The home of work the field of strife. THE GOLDEX AGE IN THE PRESENT. 95 Choose not thy bride among the dead, But press the Present to thy breast ; In her,, thy soul shall find its bread. Thy mind its sphere, thy heart its rest : Till God shall speak another " Let there be," And time, like darkness before light, shall flee Before the Now of His etemitv. 1M.< 9 6 THE ALPINE GENTIAN. THE ALPINE GENTIAN. HE 'mid ice mountains vast Long Lad lain sleeping, When she looked forth at last, Timidly peeping. Trembling she gazed around, All round her slept ; O'er the dead icy ground Cold shadows crept. Wide fields of silent snow, Still, frozen seas — What could her young life do 'Mid such as these ? Not a voice came to her, Nut a warm breath ; What hope lay there for lie Living 'midst death \ THE ALPIXE GEXTIAX. 97 Mournfully pondering Gazed she on high ; White clouds were wandering Through the blue sky. There smiled the kindly sun. Gentle beams kissed her ; On her the mild moon shone Like a saint sister. There twinkled many a star. Danced in sweet mirth : The warm heavens seemed nearer far Than th irth. So she gazed steadfastly Loving on high : Till she grew heavenly; Blue as the sky. And the cold icic Near which she grew, Thawed in her skyey Lells I her with dew. And the tired traveller Gazing abroad, 9 S THE ALPINE GENTIAN. Fixing his eyes on her, Think eth of God ; Thinks how, 'mid life's cold snow, Hearts to God given Breathe out where'er they go Summer and heaven. 1S49. THE FORGET-ME-XOT. 99 THE FORGET-ME-XOT. j HE dwelt in the greenwood, A spring gushing near, Xo fairy queen could Queenlier fare. Bees knew her caskets ; Bold friars gray Filling their baskets, — 11 For the convent," said they. Butterfly vagrants Gossiped there long; Winds brought her fragrance, Birds brought her song. Leaves rustling o'er her Let the light through ; The blithe stream woidd pour her Draughts of sweet dew. ioo THE FORGET- ME- NOT. O'er her so clearly The warm heavens smiled ; They all loved her dearly, The forest's fair child. Thus passed her childhood Dreamily by, By the fount in the wild wood, 'Neath the blue sky. The kind sun above her, Stream, bird, and wind, She knew not they loved her, Knew they were kind. Till one day gazing In the fount pure and cold, A vision amazing She saw there unfold. A blue eye soft beaming Met her blue eye, A golden star gleaming, A miniature sky. Calm the waves under The fair vision lay ; THE FORGET-ME-NOT. 101 Lost in sweet wonder, She gazed there all day : Saw not the heaven, Heard not the breeze, Till the soft even Shadowed the trees. The stars still were si lining, But they seemed far, While she lay pining For her lost star. The gentle leaves rustling, The night- winds' soft stir, Seemed harsh and hustling, Strange voices to her. Not heaven's smile moved her, Nor the stream's old kind tone ; 'Mid so many that loved her, She wept there alone : Till, the shadows dispersing, The Sun rose anew, The high forest piercing, Pierced her heart through. 102 THE FORGET-ME-NOT. Her dewy eyes raising, He met them and .smiled, The eye of heaven gazing On her, heaven's child. For the lost dream was given The Truth brighter far, The blue loving heaven, The Sun for the star. Then all voices moved her : The trees grave and tall, The deep sky above her, The blithe insects small, She loved them each one, For they all loved the Sun, And the Sun loved them all. ON THE GRAVE OF A FAITHFUL DOG. n ON THE GRAVE OF A FAITHFUL DOG. sggjHREE trees which stand apart upon | |i^ A sunny slope of meadow ground, A shadow from the heat at noon, — And underneath a grassy mound. A little silent grassy mound : — And is this all is left of thee, Whose feet would o'er the meadow bound. So full of eager life and elee \ Of "thee '-. " and may I .say e'en this Of what so wholly passed away ? Or can such trust and tendein— Be crushed entirely into clay : The voice whose welcomes were so glad, I pattering like summer show io4 ON THE GRAVE OF A FAITHFUL DOC. The dark eyes which would look SO sad If gathering tears wore dimming ours; Those wistful, dark, inquiring eyes, So loud and watchful, deep and true, That made the thought so often rise — What looks those crystal windows through? Didst thou not watch for hours our track, And for the absent seem to pine ? And when the well-known voice came back, What ecstasy could equal thine ? Is it all lost in nothingness, Such gladness, love, and hope, and trust, Such busy thought our thoughts to guess, All trampled into common dust ? Save memories which our hearts entwine, Has all for ever passed away, Like the dear home once thine and mine, The home now silent as thy clay? Or is there something yet to come. From all our science still concealed, About the patient creatures dumb A secret yet to be revealed '. ON THE GRA VE OE A FAFFI1FCL DOG. i°5 A happy secret still behind, Yet for the mute creation stored, Which suffers, though it never sinned, And loves and toils without reward. 1853. 06 JOURNE V ON THE A JOURNEY ON THE SOUTH-DEVON RAILWAY. HE young oak casts its delicate shadow Over the still and emerald meadow ; The sheep are cropping the fresh spring And never raise their heads as we pass ; The cattle are taking their noon-day rest, And chewing the cud with a lazy zest, Or bathing their feet in the reedy pool Switch their tails in the shadows cool ; But away, away, we may not stay. Panting and pulling, and snorting and starting. And shrieking and crying, and madly Hying, On and on, there's a race to be run and a goal to be \\<>n ere the set of the sun. Two white clouds are poised on high, Sunning their wings in the azure sky; Two white swans float to and fro Languidly in the stream below ; SO UTII-DE VOX RAIL WAY. 107 As it sleeps beneath a beechwood tall, Clouds, and swans, and trees, and all. Image themselves in the quiet stream, Passing their lives in a sunny dream ; But away, away, we may not stay, Panting and puffing, and snorting and starting, And shrieking and crying, and madly flying On and on, there's a race to be run and a goal to be won ere the set of the sun. Under the tall cliffs, green and deep The ocean rests in its mid-day sleep ; The waves are heaving lazily Where the purple sea-weeds float ; Sunbeams cross on the distant sea, Specked by the sail of the fisher's boat ; But away, away, we may not stay, Panting and puffing, and snorting and starting, And shrieking and crying, and madly Hying. On and on, there's a race to be run and a goal to be won ere the set of the sun. Into the deep dell's still retreat, Where the river rushes beneath our feet, Skirting the base of moorland hills, By the side of rocky rills, io8 JOURNEY, ETC. Where the wild-bird bathes and plumes its wing, Where the fields are fresh with the breath of spring, Where the earth is hushed in her noon-day prayer, No place so secret but we come there. On nature's mid-day Bleep we break, And are miles away ere her echoes wake; We startle the wood-nymphs in their play. And ere they can hide are away, away '. Away, away, we may not stay, ranting and purling, and snorting and starting, And shrieking and crying, and madly flying, On and on, there's a race to be run and a goal to be won ere the set of the sun. ITALY. I eg ITALY. TALIA ! a thousand eyes rest eagerh' on thee — A thousand hearts beat freer in the thought that thou art free ; Because thou hast no common name, and thy dwelling is on high, And folded in thy fate the fates of many nations lie. Time set a royal signet indelibly on thee, And as the lot of common men thy lot can never be. Three kingdoms have been thine by turns, three sceptres graced thy hand, Three times the mighty ones of earth have bowed to thy command ! When from thy cold and languid grasp the World's wide sceptre glides, One moment thou seem'st lost amid the fierce barbaric tides; no ITALY. When curbed, as if by magic, back from thy throne they roll, And thou risest 'mid the tempest calm, Empress of the soul. Then when half Europe roused her might, and rent her from thy sway, And for a space, as in a trance, thy passive image lay, A fragrant breath of Beauty and <>f Melody divine, Floated around thee sleeping, as around a saintly shrine. And for the throne of Empires they throned thee Queen of Art, For the homage of the knee they gave the worship of the heart ; Godlike Art and godlike Nature, circling thee with magic ] towers, For a, dead crown of gold entwined a living CTOWll of flowers, "Widow of nations" shall no more he written on thy land, — Mother of heroes ! girl about with thy true-hearted hand ! ITAL V. in he maiden in the northern tale started from slumbers de Aroused by the kiss of Freedom, thou hast burst thy spell of sleep ; And the ruins of thv glory are no more th mb, j'er the ruins bound the feet of a new and nobler Rome. O'er the fountain of the past a morning radiance nit^ : By the 1 -rink of its still waters a living spirit Xo more the dead leaves float there in the gray autumnal glooms, Xo more the death-wind stirs it with echoes from the ton.- For a mighty hand has rolled away the stone from off its brink. And living beings come once more of its quick' ning waves to drink. Then, nerved with all the vigour of the old heroic life. Go forth with tempered courage to the ancient Field of strife : the old barbaric battles, whe] Is clashed fierce with Nor the jar of vain polemics and the clang of hollow w« > 112 ITALY. But to the spirit-combat, with the arms of Work and Thought, Where, on the widest battle-field, the oldest fight is fought ; Meeting ignorance with patience, and tyranny with light, And wrong and falsehood with the force of wisdom and of right So speed thee to thy lofty work, heroic, calm, and free, That the tyrant and the scoffer may learn with shame from thee That Freedom is no empty boast, no prate for boys at school, No ladder by which those who serve may climb on high to rule; But a field for holy labours, and a gate for heavenly light, Freedom to utter truth, do good, and help the wronged to right ; And they who still pine hopelessly in paralyzing thrall, May learn of thee how well 'tis worth to venture all for all. MA V SOXG. MAY SOXG. LL the world is up and stirring, Birds are warbling, insects whirring, Striving in harmonious strife Which can catch and drink the more Of the crystal fount of life Which around is bubbling o'er. For May came by upon a day When the Earth, spell-bound in sleep. Like the Sleeping Beauty lay, Sunk in magic slumbers deep ; Came and kissed her marble cheek. And the icy spell was broken: Words which ages could not speak In this burst of life are spoken: And the Palace, still so 1< Breaks into a flood of song. Air around and skies above Seem one flood of life and love ; S H4 MAY SONG. Every flower and leaf a sense, Drinking life and rapture thence: Nature all one glorious Psalm, We all nerve responsive thrill ing; She a tree of Gilead's balm, Into weary hearts distilling; She all light and melody, We all sense to hoar and see. With a fresh and happy sound Forth the infant river wells, Striking on the pebbles round Merry peals of fairy bells; Leaping up in showers of spray, Parts the pure uncoloured light ' Into many a threadlet bright ; Broidering its garments white, Flashing gems from every ray. Perfumes fresh and sofl and clear Sail along the limpid air; Birds are singing, fish are springing. Grass is growing, water flowing, All the world awake and stirring: And shall I be idly hearing, While my heart thus glows with love, And my soul o'erflows with life, ma y soya 1 1 5 And my spirit yearns to prove She could bravely strive her strife ? Music only in my heart: Lord, give me some choral part ! Give this lisping heart a word — Word that ma}' be felt and heard: I would rise and praise thee too — Lord, let me go forth and do ! Then an answer silver clear Fell upon my inward ear : — " " Hush, impatient heart, be still : Restless waters break the light, Shivering faith's deep mystery Into fancy's prisms bright: Breaking that by which we see To a show for vulgar sight See that deep blue violet flower Bend the quickening waters o'er: Eagerly they sparkle up. Dropping in her open cup, While she in her quiet eye Drinks the colours of the sky. Such the faithful heart should be, Feeding on Nature silently, Drinking her spring-tide light and song ; That holy food shall make it strong — > MA Y SO jYC. On earth a heavenly star to shine, True mirror of the life divine. So thy life shall be a voice, Speaking words best heard above, Bidding weary souls rejoice, Waking palsied hearts to love." May 1846. THE NOR THERN SPRING. 1 1 7 THE NORTHERN SPRING. IGHTY Thor has gone to battle With the giants of the Fro.st ; In his god-like strength contending, Single-handed, 'gainst a host. Heard ye not the clash and clamour, Wind with wind in deadly strife ; Battle-cries and roar of conflicts, Where the Dark Ones fought for life ? Heard ye not the great Miolner Thundering o'er the din of war ; Striking ligh tning from the storm-cloud ? — Dreadful in his wrath is Thor ! Then the strong ones fled in terror, Henceforth fear we not their worst ; For their giant strength is broken, And their icy chains are burst. 1 1 8 THE NOR THE RN SI 'A'/. \ r G. Joy to all 1 great Thor hath triuinphed ; Victory and light arc won ; And the victor doffs his armour, Girding robes of triumph on. Hail him in the joy of triumph, Gazing in his love and pride Where, in trembling mists infolded, Beams his own enfranchised bride ! And the streams his blows unfettered, Greet him with the dance and song : Beautiful is Thor in triumph, As in battle he is strong. * * * * Beautiful art thou, Nature ! Glorious art thou, O Sun ! Many are the names we call you, Yet the homage is but one. Hearts o'crflowing into worship, With the sense that ye arc fraught With a Presence and a Purpose Passing human word or thought: Thinking of the Hand that made 1 you, Makes and keep.-- yon so divine; THE NOR THERN SPRIXG. 1 1 9 Every stone becomes an altar, Every blade of grass a slirine ; Worlds of art in every insect, Miracles in every clod : For beyond man's master-pieces Is the simplest work of God. 120 THE THREE TRANCES. THE THREE TRANCES. LEGEND ok A NORTHERN SEER. WAS a glad and sunny child, And in the fount of life AVI dch, gushing from its hidden cave In many a clear and sparkling wave, Each with sweet music rife, Wells in the morning sunlight up E'en to its stony brim, Dropping into each flowery cup That trembles on the rim, Thence trickling through the long soft grass That Bprings up green where'er it pa^s. (E'en from the stones it lives among Ringing a clear and hearty sou--. Each joyous chime and merry burst As fresh and glad as 'twere the firsi . 1 bathed, and quenched my healthy thirst, Until my heart grew wild. THE THREE TRANCES, 12 I bounded o'er the bounding turf, I shouted to the shouting surf, I laughed with the merry streams ; My playmates were the birds and bees, The noisy wind, the whispering breeze, And changeful summer gleams. And in the still and sultry hours, When Nature drooped and was sad, Weary with thirst and heat, The tread of my light feet Was cool and musical, As when, at evening, fall Drop by drop in lonely pools the summer showers, And the desert looked up and was glad. I strove with the maddened storm, I leapt the crag with the waterfall ; For the blood in my veins was warm, And storms, and streams, and gleams, and all The mighty creatures of the wild, In their fierce exulting play, They welcomed me To their company. And they laughed to see a little child As strong and as glad as they. 2 THE THREE TRANCES. Then a shadow came before my eyes, And a weight upon my heart, And my breath came slow, Laden with heavy sighs ; And one 1 did not know Ever to me Clung wearily, And whispered that Ave never more should part. And on the crags where I was wont to stand He dragged me downward with a heavy hand; And on the mountains, where I used to be As mountain breezes free, He came, and then my steps fell heavily. And in the forest glad and lone, Where winds and ancient trees, And the torrent and the breeze, Had talked to me as to a fellow of their own, His heavy breath my voice would choke. His wings won Id cloud my spirit o'er, I could not answer when they spoke, And I was of their fellowship no more. Tin- waters laughed — I could not laugh ; In their ancient dwelling Nature's founts were welling, Life-giving as of old, but not for me to quaff THE THREE TRANCES. 123 For ever he would bide By my side, And neath his heavy tread the springs were dried From crag to crag the torrent sprung. Ever young. My step had lost its spring. The young winds sang their wonted song The flowers among, A somr I might not sin^. The ocean and the storm v winter weather «/ Played their wild play together As of old. I could not play, and grew to dread the storm, — The blood in Nature's vein- was warm. Mine ran cold. And when in noontide hours of weari Nature had laid her down to sleep In the solitude, My step no more awoke the wildernc My voice no more her parched heart could steep With life and good, Like fountains gushing in a thirsty place ; Nature no more was glad to see my face, Fur I was faint and sad as she, i-M Til E THREE TRANCES. And wheresoe'er my steps I bent, Ever with me that Dark One went With heavy footsteps wearily, Ee drank my cup of life till it was dry, He weighed upon my heart till it grew cold ; lie touched my eyelids hot aud heavily, And nothing smiled as it had smiled of old. I laid me down upon a woodland bank, Where the breath of spring came slow in languid sighs. And smiles on me Beamed tearfully From out the holy depths of violet eyes ; My heart within me sank. I laid me down upon the bank and wept ; A sleep, which was not sleep, came o'er my soul : Men mourned to see my light of life thus fade; They knew not that the Ancient One* That shadow o'er my soul had thrown, That He might commune with me in the shade. That cloud of sleep around my Bense did roll, That lie might come to me in visions ;is I slept. They knew aot fchai my sleep had dreams — Dreams to which all that seem most real beside he old Lapland appellation for God. THE THREE TRANCES. 125 Are but as lights in restless waves that glide, The changeful image of most changeful gleams. For life is one long sleep, O'er which in gusts do sweep Visions of heaven ; The body but a closed lid, By which the real world is hid From the spirit slumbering dark below; And all our earthly strife and woe, Tossings in slumber to and fro ; And all we know of heaven and light In visions of the day or night To us is given. I talked with the Ancient One In that mysterious seeming slumber ; Nor yet with Him alone, But blessed spirits without number, Who crowd around His throne, And loud and clear the tide of praises swell ; — Nor only in that lofty sphere they dwell, But round His children throng, Invisibly ever, And pour their glorious song, Though audible never, Save when at evening, in the solitude, When not a breeze has stirred, [20 TUE THREE TRANCES. A quiver tin-ills through all the silent wood ; ( '.-in it have heard ? () what a drunkenness of joy my soul doth steep With thought of the unuttered visions of that sleep And I have been since then A prophet amongst men : They honour me as one whose eyes Have looked upon the mysteries Of the true world where spirits dwell, To whom the great hook is unrolled. 0! if thus reverently they deem Of the poor fragments of that dream Which can in human words be told, What would they think of that I cannot tell? And when that awful slumber broke, He who so long of late Was my associate No longer closely in my pathway stood, But in the sky. lhavily, Like a thunder cloud with dusky wings did brood, And to something of my former life 1 woke. The sunny laugh, the spring-tide Bigh, The lilood-j'ull vein. THE THREE TRA VCES. i 2 7 The bounding step, the beaming eye, Came not again ; Joys that too quickly came and fled, To find a name. The tears that started in my eye, I knew not whence, And ere I could have questioned why Were from hence, — The heart that danced amongst the forms of spring, Like them a joyous growing thing, — These came not; yet to me were brought A thousand joys too deep for thought : For unto the suffering one God sent a joy of His own ; And the storm and the solitude Again unto my soul were good, For ever in the silence and the din The unseen spirits talked to mine within. Yet on my pathway evermore That heavy cloud doth darkly lower, Like thunder-laden air, Lamping each transient thought of mirth, Weighing my energies to earth, A burden hard to bear. 128 THE THREE TRANCES. And sometimes when I've seen My brothers dancing round With strength's exulting bound, Impatiently my heart would pray That I might be even as they. Even as I had been ; But then some gentle sprite would hover by, And breathe a high and cheering word. Such as the heart's dec}) waters stirred. And all my grief would melt in ecstasy. Nor only 'neath the cloud, By sullering, is my spirit 1 towed. But with too great a weight of glory. As with long years my head is hoary, This feeble frame dissolves away, Before the blaze of that full day ; Life, breathing with too strong a breath. Will crush this body into death. And twice again that wondrous guest Hath come close to my side as of old ; Hath laid his heavy hand upon my breast, Until my blood ran cold; Hath hid with stifling breath again The light of life from me ; Hath bound me with a threefold chain Tli.it draggetb heavily, THE THREE TRANCES. 129 All my raptured soul to steep In the sleep which is not sleep. To me he is no more unknown, His face has all familiar grown, And dearer than the blessed sun For with him comes the Ancient One. 0, come to me once more ! Shadow my spirit o'er. Three times thy hand hath been on me Heavily ; Come with yet heavier grasp, and crush This frame to dust. Three times thy breath hath dimmed my light Into night ; Come and breathe on it mightily, Till it die. Three times the cloud of sleep o'er my sou] Thou didst roU ; Come now, and fix the shadow there, Let me sleep e'er, That I may dream those visions o'er Evermore. Nay ; with loud voice this slumber break, That I may wake, And be with the Ancient One By His throne. 9 3° THE THREE TRANCES. Come now, and with no feeble hand, Strain thy band, Until this heavy veil be riven, Which shuts my spirit from the light ; Come, Strong One, bear my soul to heaven, And crush this lid which shrouds my sight ; I care not what the anguish be, So I be free ; Come, choke this slow and labouring breath, And I will bless thee, Death. 1845. WAIT IXC. 1 3 1 WAITING. (suggested by trees bending oyer a dry watercourse NEAR COM". T will come, it will not tarry ! we shall not wait in vain, With a burst of sudden thunder, or the trickling of quiet rain, A tranquil stream of blessing will well around our roots, And the thrill of life will vibrate to our utmost budding shoots. Or when all the land is silent, lifeless, and sad, and dumb, From the snowy mountain-ranges the sound of joy will come ; The shock of the ancient battle (for the storm, not the calm, comes first), And from the unchained glaciers the river of life will burst, J 3 2 WAITING, Ringing new peals of triumph through all the sultry plain ; For the light and the life must conquer, and the dead must live again. Therefore with loving patience we bend o'er these channels dumb, Awaiting the vanished Presence, and the Life which is to conic 1S51 THE PA THJVA YS OF THE 1I0L Y LAND. 1 33 THE PATHWAYS OF THE HOLY LAND. 11 HE pathways of Thy land are little changed Since Thou wert there ; The busy world through other ways has ranged, And left these bare. The rocky path still climbs the glowing steep Of Olivet ; Though rains of two millenniums wear it deep, Men tread it yet. Still to the gardens o'er the brook it leads, Quiet and low ; Before his sheep the shepherd on it treads, His voice they know. The wild fig throws broad shadows o'er it still, As once o'er Thee ; Peasants go home at evening up that hill To Bethany. 134 THE PA nriVA YS OF THE IIOL Y LAND. And as when gazing Thou didst weep o'er them, From height to height The white roofs of discrowned Jerusalem Burst on our sight. These ways were strewed with garments once and palm, Which we tread thus ; Here through Thy triumph on Thou passedst, calm, To death ; — for us ! The waves have washed fresh sands upon the shore Of Galilee ; But chiselled in the hill-sides evermore Thy paths we see. Man lias not changed them in that slumbering land, Nor Time effaced : Where Thou hast stood to heal, we still may stand ; All can be traced. Yet we have traces of Thy footsteps far Truer than these ; — Where'er the poor, and tried, and suffering are, Thy steps faith THE PA THWA YS OF THE II OL Y LAXD. 1 35 Xor with fond sad regrets Thy steps we trace ; Thou art not dead ! Our path is onward, till we see Thy face, And hear Thy tread. And now, wherever meets Thy lowliest band In praise and prayer, There is Thy presence, there Thy Holy Land, — Thou, Thou art there ! 136 VEILED ANGELS. VEILED ANGELS; OK AFFLICTIONS. NNUMBERED blessings, rich and free, Have come to ns, our God, from Thee. Sweet tokens written with Thy name, Bright angels from Thy face they came. Some came with open faces bright, Aglow with heaven's own living light; And some were veiled, trod soft and slow, And spoke in voices grave and low. Veiled angels, pardon ! if with fears We met you first, and many tears. We lake you t<> our hearts no less; We know ye come t>» teach and bl< VEILED ANGELS. 137 We know the love from which ye come ; We trace you to our Father's home. We know how radiant and how kind Your faces are, those veils behind. We know those veils, one happy day, In earth or heaven, shall drop away ; And we shall see you as ye are, And learn why thus ye sped from far. But what the joy that day shall be, We know not yet ; we wait to see. For this, angels, well we know, The way ye came our souls shall go : Up to the love from which ye come, Back to our Fath:r's blessed home. And bright each face, unveiled, shall shine, Lord, when the Veil is rent from Thine ! i 3 8 THE POET OF POETS. THE POET OF POETS. We are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus unto good works." E know there once was One on earth Who penetrated all He saw, To whom the lily had its worth, And Nature bared her inmost law. And when the mountain-side He trod, The universe before Him shone, Translucent in the smile of God, Like young leaves in the morning sun. Glory which Greece had never won, To consecrate her Parthenon. Nature her fine transmuting powers Laid open to His piercing ken : The life of insects and of flowers ; The lives, and hearts, and minds of men ; Depths of the geologic past, The mission of the youngest star ; — No mind had ever grasp so vast, No science ever dived so far. THE FOE T OF FOE TS. 139 All that our boldest guess sees dim Lay clearly visible to Him. Had He but uttered forth in song The visions of His making sight, The thoughts that o'er His soul would throng. Alone upon the hills at night ; "What poet's loftiest ecstasies Had stirred men with such rapturous awe As would those living words of His, Calm utterance of what He saw ! All earth had on those accents hung, All ages with their echoes rung. But He came not alone to speak, — He came to live, He came to die : Living, a long lost race to seek ; Dying, to raise the fallen high. He came, Himself the living Word. The Godhead in His person shone ; But few and poor were those who heard, And wrote His words when He was gone : "Words children to their hearts can clasp, Yet angels cannot wholly grasp. But where those simple words were flung, Like raindrops on the parched green, THE POET OF POETS. A living race of poets sprung, Who dwelt among the things unseen ; Who loved the fallen, sought the lost, Yet saw beneath time's masks and shrouds; Whose life was one pure holocaust, Death but a breaking in the clouds : His Volume as the world was broad, His Poem was the Church of God. THE rOETS DA IL Y BREA D. \\ THE POET'S DAILY BREAD. HE Poet does not dwell apart, enshrined in golden beams ; He is not mailed from Time's rude "blows in a panoply of dreams. Xo Pegasus bears him aloft in pathways 'mid the clouds ; But he must tread the common earth mingling in common crowds. He dwells not in fair solitudes a still and lone recluse ; But he must handle common tools to his diviner use. He doth not list in magic caves the music of life's ocean ; Borne freely on its winds and waves, he feels their every motion. 1 4 2 THE POE TS DA IL Y BREAD. The glory which around him shines is no fictitious ray ; Tt is the sun which shines on all, the light of common day. But he has won an open eye to see things as they are, A glory in God's meanest w-orks which passe th fiction far. His ear is open to discern stirrings of angel wings, And angel whispers come to him from mute and common things. And Nature, ever meeting him with the same radiant face, And filling still her daily round with the old quiet Ts fresh and glorious as at first, and mightier far to bless, His youth's strong passion growing ripe in deep home-tenderness : And truths to which his childhood clung, like songs repeated often By the sweet voice of one we love, do but the surer soften. THE POE TS BAIL Y BREA D. 1 43 One thing he scorns with bitter scorn, the lived or spoken lie ; Yet knowing what a labyrinth life, bow dim the inward eye. — Is slow to brand his fellow-man as false, or base, or mean, Or aught which hath fed human hearts as common or unclean. Nature prepares no royal food for this her royal guest ; Xo special banquet is for him at life's full table dressed. But all life's honest impulses, home joys, and cares, and teai*s, The shower of cordial laughter which the clouded bosom cheers, All earnest voices of Iris kind, calm thoughts of solitude, All of the world that is not husks, — this is the poet's food. God's living poem speaks to him God-like ineveiy line ; Xot all man's hackneyed renderings can make it less divine. 1S49. 144 SUGGESTED BY THE PROMETHEUS BOUND. SUGGESTED BY THE PROMETHEUS BOUND. HY torturers made no lament, No pity with their task was blent ; Thy cup of anguish was unmixed, And human hands Thy hands transfixed, O Thou who loved st man ! No ocean beamed Thine eyes before, With " countless laughter " dimpled o'er, But Leavings of an angry sea Of human faces mocking Thee, O Thou who lovedst man ! No "fragrant stir of heavenly wings," But mockeries and murmurings ; No depths divine of azure sky, But darkness dread received Thy cry, O Thou who lovedst man ! SUGGESTED BY THE PROMETHEUS BOUND. M5 Yet was Thy cry of agony Earth's first true peal of victor}', Hushing the world-old blasphemy, Tli at God gives good reluctantly, God who lovedst man ! Since Thou thus sufferedst to fulfil Willing the Father's loving will, And lifting off the load of sin Let the free tide of love flow iu, Thou who lovest man ! The Fount of Fire for us is won, Since Life and Light in Thee are one ; Thy bonds have made the fettered free, And man unbound Love binds to Thee, Thou who lovest man ! 10 146 THE BETRAYAL OF THE BETRAYAL OF THE YUCATAN ISLANDERS. " We have not followed cunningly devised fables." When the Spaniards understood the simple opinion of the Yucatan Islanders concerning the souls of their departed, which, after their sins purged in the cold northern mountains, should pass into the south— to the intent that, 1 tjiving their own country of their own accord, they might suffer themselves to be brought to Hispaniola, they did persuade these poor wretches that they came from those places where they should see their parents and chil- dren, and all their kindred and friends that were dead, and enjoy all kinds of delights, with the embracement and fruition of all beloved beings. And they, being infected raid possessed with these crafty and subtle imagina- tions, singing and rejoicing, left their country, and followed vain and idle hope. But when they saw that they were deceived, and neither met their parents nor any that they desired, but were compelled to undergo grievous sovereignty and command, and to endure cruel and extreme labour, they either slew themselves, or, choosing to famish, gave up their fair spirits, being persuaded by no reason or violence to take food. So these miserable Yucatans came to their end. "— Quoted in " Short Studies on Great Svi l'!i J. A. Froude. I. HEY came o'er the Eastern Sea ; None had ever seen its shore ; And living things, With grand white wings, Those white-limbed Btrangeis bore. THE YUCATAN ISLANDERS. 147 " White wings on the purple sea, Like the white- winged clouds o'er- head. We said, ' They come From the far-off Home, Where rest our happy dead. 1 ' They know of the far white hills "Where our beloved go, Cleansing their souls Where the thunder rolls O'er the fields of ice and snow ! 1 'They come from the sunlit shore Where our beloved rest ; Where they rest in light All pure and white, 'Xeath the morning's golden breast.' "They landed on our isle, Our reverent trust they won, This Royal Race From the Dawn's own place, These Children of the Sun. "Like lightnings flashed their sword s ; They held the winds their slaves ; 43 THE BETRAYAL OE The thunders raged, In their sea-towers caged ; They rode on the foaming waves. " We saw they were strong and wise, We thought they were good and true ; We said, ' They will tell Where our lost ones dwell,' For we thought they all things knew. " They saw how we yearned for our dead ; They answered grave and slow : — ' Trust us ; we come From that far-off home ; With us to your Dead ye shall go.' " We climbed their dread sea-towers, For we trusted the words they said ; We feared not the thunder, Caged, sullen, under ; For we went to rejoin our dead. " Singing and glad we went, Those treacherous billows o'er, To those unknown strands, For a clasp of the hands We had feared to clasp do more; THE YUCATAN ISLANDERS. M9 " Fete a soudcI of the well-known voice We had feared not to hear again : For we thought, ' Even thus They are watching for as, Watching across the main. : • Will they meet us one by one, On lonely cliff or shore, Or with flowers and song In a festive throng, To pail from us never more ? ' "So, singing and glad we went, Trusting, across the main, Till we reached the strand, Where they drove us to land With laughter, and lash, and chain. " For the welcomes of our beloved, The stranger's stripes and jeers ; For the promised Home, The slave's dark doom, And toil without time for tears. '* But they will not bind us long ; We are breaking their fetters fast ; 150 THE BETRAYAL OF No chains can keep From that long, safe sleep, Where we join our Dead at last." II. Oh, Thou who earnest from far, From the shores none living know And over the sea Biddest us with Thee To our beloved go ; Not Thine the thunder -sign ; Silent Thou trodd'st the wave, Hushing its strife ; But Thy touch was life, Deatli was Thy fettered slave. His Sea grew a ciystal Floor, When Thou saidst, " Its shore I know; Trust Me : I come From that far-off Home ; Follow Me, — to your dead ye shall go.' Thousands obe} r ed Thy call, Left all for Hi op, content ; THE I TTCA TA X ISL A XDERS. 1 5 1 Through fire and sword, Trusting Thy word, Sin en nor and glad thev went. What feverish dream of doubt, What teiTor of hearts death-cold. Has raved that from Thee Such wrong could be As this base wrong of old ! God, by Thy goodness proved, Infinite by Thine Heart ; The deeds Thou hast done A world have won ; We trust Thee for what Thou art ! Little Thy lips have said Of that mysterious shore ; But we seek not a Place, We seek Thy face. And we crave to know no more. Thou hast promised no stormless course, Yet singing and glad we go ; Faithful and True Thou wilt bring us through ; If not, Thou hadst told us so. i 5 2 S 1 : FRj I NCIS J >\1 SS/SJ 'S ST. FRANCIS D' ASSISTS CANTICUM SOLIS. Altissimo omnipotente bucn Signore, tue son le laudi, la gloria, lo honor, e ogni benediction. A te solo so confanno e nullo homo e degno di nominarti. Laudato sia mio Signore per tutte le creature, specialmente Messer lo Fratre Sole, il quale giorna illumina noi per lul E alto e bello e radiante con grande splendore. Da Te Signore porta significazione. Laudato sia mio Signore per Suora Luna e per le stelle 1? quali in cielo le hai formate chiare e belle. Laudato sia mio Signore per fratre Vento e per la luce e nuvole e sereno e ogni tempo, per lo quale dai a tutte creature sustentamento. Laudato sia mio Signore per Suora acqua la quale 6 molto utile e humile e pretiosa e casta Laudato sia mio Signora per Fratre Fuoco per lo quale tu alluniini la notte, i bello e jocundo e robustissimo e forte. Laudato sia mio Signore per nostra Madre Terra la qu.ile nj sostenta, governa, e produce diversi frutte, e coloriti fiori e herbi. Laudato sia mio Signore per quelli che perdonano per lo tuo amore e sosteneno innrmitade e tribulatione. Beat] quelli che sostegneranno in pace che da Te Altissimo saranno incoronati. BLESS Thee, Father, that where'er I go A brotherhood of blessed creatures goes With me, and biddeth me God speed. Fur, -ill Thy mute and innocent creatures take my thanks; To me they are child-brethren without speech ( )r sin. CAXTICUM SOUS. 153 And first for him, the noblest of them all, He who brings day and summer, disenchants The ice-bound streams, and wakes the happy birds., Pure choristers, to matins ; at whose call The young flowers, startled from their hiding-places, Peep and laugh ; who clothes the earth, and fills The heavens with joy ; and he is beautiful And radiant with great splendour. Praise to Thee, O Highest ! for our royal brother Sun ; For bears he not an impress, Lord, of Thee ? And praise for her our holy white-veiled sister, Dwelling on high in heavenly purity ; And for the radiant hosts that bear her company, For they are bright and beautiful. Praise for the ^loon and Stars. Praise for our brother Wind ; for though Iris voice Is rough at times, and in his savage mood He rends the earth, rousing the sea to fury, Yet at Thy calm rebuke he layeth by His lion nature, frisketh like a lamb Beside the streams, and gently crisps with snow The sapphire waves, and stirs the corn, and wakes The languid flowers to life, and lays dead blossoms Softly in their graves : for the strong winds, The rough but kindly winds, we bless Thee, Lord. T54 ST. FRANCIS &ASSISVS And for our sister, Water, mountain child Whose happy feet make music on the hills ; For her who bounds so light from rock to rock, Yet brings a blessing wheresoe'er she comes. She spurns all fetters, laughs at all restraint, Yet scorns no lowliest ministry of love, Abiding peacefully in roadside wells, And sparkling welcomes in the peasant's cup. Nature's sweet almoner ! all praise for her ! For she is useful, precious, meek, and chaste. We bless Thee, Lord, for her. And for our brother, Fire ! — fearful is he When he goes forth exulting in his strength, And all things quail and fly before his face ! Yet he will sit a patient minister Of blessings on our hearth, and through the night He cheers us. He is joyous, bold, robust, And strong. Praise, Lord, for him ! And for our mother Earth, who feedeth us With such unwearied love, and strews our paths With rainbow-tinted flowers and healing herbs; Our gentle, generous, most beautiful, And ever youthful mother. CANTICUM SOUS. 1 5 5 Thus, blessed Christ, all praise to Thee for these Thy creatures. They are all Thy ministers, And to Thy reconciled speak nought but peace. Children and servants are we in one household, Dwelling before Thee in sweet harmony. O bless us all ! Father S we all bless Thee ! THE WELL AT SYCHAR. THE WELL AT SYCHAR. (ON FINDING IT FILLED UP BY TILE ARABS.) HEY have stopped the sacred well which the patriarchs dug of old, Where they watered the patient flocks at noon, from the depths so pure and cold ; Where the Saviour asked to drink, and found at noon repose : But the living spring He opened then no human hands can close. They have scattered the ancient stones, where at noon He sat to rest : None ever shall rest by that well again, and think how His accents blest ; But the Best for the burdened heart, the Shade in the weary land, The riven Rock with its living streams, for ever unmoved shall stand. THE WELL AT SYCHAR. 157 Earth has no Temple now, no beautiful House of God; Or earth is all one temple-floor which those sacred feet have trod. But in heaven there is a Throne, a Home and a House of prayer : Thyself the Temple, Thyself the Sun ; our pilgrim- age endeth there ! XAr.Lors, June 1S5G. 158 ONL V Til A T THE SUN IS COMING. ONLY THAT THE SUN IS COMING. HALL the summer have no singing ? Shall so much of good be given, And no sweet return of praises Rise to meet the songs of heaven ? " All my life, from morn till even, So with happy cares be fraught, That a slumbrous spell of silence Chains the deeper founts of thought? " So I mused one summer morning, "When sweet song the silence stirred, Filling all the air with gladness, From a little caged bird No especial pomp of sunrise Woke that early joyous hymn ; No peculiar fount of blessing Gushed that morning fresh for him. OXLY THAT THE SUN IS COMING. 159 " Only that the sun is coming," Rising slowly o'er the hill; This familiar joy sufficing All his happy heart to fill. Only that the sun is coming, — All the world's dear light and his, — Therefore, o'er the still gray morning Flows his song in ecstasies. Yet his sun, this night departing, Leaves him caged and desolate ; Whilst our Sun, in glory rising, Bursts the cage, and shall not set ; Breaks the bars, unveils the eyesight, Sets us free to gaze and soar, Free for tireless song and service In the day that dies no more. Only that the Sun is coming ! Had we not a joy but this, Should not speech o'erflow in singing, And the heart be still in bliss ? 1357. I Go I/O IV DOT// DEA Til SPEA K HOW DOTH DEATH SPEAK OF OUR BELOVED ? " The rain that falls upon the height, Too gently to be called delight, In the dark valley reappears As a wild cataract of tears ; And love in life should strive to see Sometimes, what love in death would be." Coventry Patmore's "Angel in the House." W doth death speak of our beloved, When it has laid them low ; When it has set its hallowing touch On speechless lip and brow ? It clothes their every gift and grace With radiance from the holiest place, With light as from an angel's face ; Recalling with resistless force, And tracing to their hidden source, Deeds scarcely noticed in their course, — OF O UR BEL VED * 1 6 1 This little, loving fond device. That daily act of sacrifice. Of which too late we learn the price ; Opening our weeping :» trace Simple unnoticed kindne- Forgotten tones of tenderr. Which evermore to us must be Sacred as hymns in infancy. Learned listening at a mother's knee. Thus doth death speak of our beloved, When it has laid them low : Then let love antedate the work of death. And speak thus now. How doth d^-ath speak of our beloved, When it has laid them low : When it has set its hallowing touch On speechless lip and brow '. It sweeps their faults with heavy hand, \- sweeps the sea the trampled sand, Till scarce the faintest print is scanned. 11 *62 HOW DOTH DBA 777 SPEAK It shows how such ;i vexing deecj Was but a generous nature's weed, Or some choice virtue run to seed ; How that small fretting fretfulnese Was but love's over-anxiousness, Which had not been had love been less; This tailing at which we repined, But the dim shade of day declined, Which should have made us doubly kind. Thus doth death speak of our beloved, When it has laid them low ; Then let love antedate the work of death, And speak thus now. How dotli death speak of our beloved, When it has laid them low ; When it has set its hallowing touch ( )u speechless lip and brow '. It takes each failing on OUT part, And brands it in upon the heart, Wii h caustic power and cruel art. OF UR BEL O VED ? 163 The small neglect that may have pained, A giant stature will have gained, When it can never be explained ; The little service which had proved How tenderly we watched and loved, And those mute lips to glad smiles moved; The little gift from out our store, Which might have cheered some cheerless hour, When they with earth's poor needs were poor, But never will be needed more ! It shows our faults like fires at night, It sweeps their failings out of sight ; It clothes their good in heavenly light. Christ, our life, foredate the work of death. And do this now ; Thou, who art love, thus hallow our beloved! — ■ Not death, but Thou ! 1 6 4 7 'UK J. A ST Eh 'EM ) '. THE LAST ENEMY. N Enemy comes to me, He is coming before the night: Ere to-night the battle must be ; It may be while noon is bright. Some few first morning hours T knew not this Dread must come ; Then each dewy flower seemed a world With its sun of joy impearlod. Yet the furthest star a home. But he came near t<> me : And the boundless bounded grow The countless stars seemed few ; For I frit the world's cold rim ! saw where the light grew dim An'] 1 t houffhl evermore as 1 went THE LAST ENEM Y. 1 6 " At the next turn of the path, So familiar, so like the last, Where the old familiar trees, And the homely thrifty bees, And the birds to their nests flitting past, Familiar shadows cast, This strange new shadow may fall, His shadow may shadow them all. And ere I can lift my eyes, Not only blossom and tree, But the sun, and the earth, and the sea, All I can hear or see Like a shadow behind me lies: Xor only the things I see; But ye, beloved, ye ! Ye may grow shadows to me : And I a shadow to you, A shadow one hour or two ; Then less than a shadow, a dream, Less than a dream I may be, — A dream's faint memory. For though I know not the hour. The end of the Fight I know. He will conquer, not I ; Ho will come and lay me low. 166 THE LAST ENEMY. To many I knew he drew nigh, And with all it ended so. Like them I shall fight to the last, Confront him with hand and eye Perhaps I shall hope to the last ; But he will conquer, not I. ' ' Of all I have seen him strike, He has stricken not one alike. To some like a Beast of Prey He has come in the still noon-day, From the quiet reeds by the pool, From the forest calm and cool, With a sudden spring and a cry, Swept in a breath away ; Or eagle-like from on high With a sudden swoop and no cry. From the calm of a cloudless sky. "To some like the syren maids Fabled by those of old, Lulling them softly to sleep, Lulling them down to the deep, To the darkness and the cold. ' !!«' may be now by my side, As I sit at my work alone. THE LAST EX EM V. 167 If I turn my head I may see His terrible eyes on me,— And my heart may turn to stone." Thus I waited and dreaded long. But I do not dread him now ; I have seen the slave's chain on his hand, The captive's brand on his brow. I have felt the touch of the Hand, The living, loving Hand, The Hand that holds his chain ' I shall feel it yet again, — Feel it all fetters burst, — Only that cold touch first ! I know the look of the E Those terrible eyes obey ; T have seen them moist with tears. Fur the weary, wandering, per- plext : But when I see them next. They will smile all tears away. And like a frightened child, Led up to the shadow it feared, 1 6 8 THE LAST EX EM I '. Standing with Him on the height. The mountain-height at His feet, Where the earth and the heavens meet, With His smile for the world's and my light ; Like a shadow, far down, I shall see, Not the earth and the sea He upholds, Not you, whom His love enfolds, But far, far under me, Like a shadow that flits o'er the sea, Himself the Last Enemy. 1867. THE TWO ACCUSATIONS. 1 69 THE TWO ACCUSATIONS. CROSS stands black against the last pale glow Of that dread day that twice was veiled in night ; The form that quivered there when noon was high Rests low amidst the shrouds and spices now, And reverent hands have wiped the thorn-crowned brow. But where it bowed at noon, death-dewed and white, The Roman's accusation meets my sight, Earth's homage rendered in her own despite, Proclaiming in three tongues thy right divine ! Yet as I gaze my heart discovers there Another accusation black and clear ; These were the crimes that slew Thee! — TJiey are mine ! But it is torn, and stained with sacred blood ; No more a sentence, but a pardon sealed by God. July 1862. J 7° THE TWO REPROACHES. TUK TWO REPROACHES. HY voice made rocks Thy fountains; ocean waves A wall around Thy chosen; desert caves Their temples ; flames their car of victory. Thy touch made lepers pure as infancy. Thy word lulls storms to sleep, like babes at play ; Or, as they rage, Lids them white chrisoms lay For flowers. Thy smile makes tears of sinful men The joy of angels. Shall we wonder, then, That blinded hate, and envy masked in scorn, Twilling for Thee the crown of sharpest thorn, But wove a wreath of glory for Thy brow: And broken hearts, which sins and sorrows bow, Scanning through all the heaven of Thy Word Some special guiding-star of hope to see ; And angels, searching tributes for their Lord, Finding these words of those that hated Thee, ■ This Man receiveth sinners" and again Written in blood earth's darkest record o'er), lit saved others," pause and search no more; — Both finding all they sought, gaze and adore. THE THORNS OF LIFE. I 7 1 THE THORNS OF LIFE. IUR path aloft is slippery and steep. The smooth brow of a sea-washed pre- cipe c And often, in an hour's unguarded sleep, We fall from heights of years' hard toil the price. Sorrows are thorns and stunted plants, that spring From out the rock their rugged roots have riven, Building for thee, if to their stems thou cling, A Jacob's Ladder mounting up to heaven. Lay hold of them, though hands and feet be torn ; For couldst thou see aright, each sharp-toothed thorn Would seem an angel's hand along the road To drag thee in thine own despite to God. "^r *mm&! 1 7 2 SO WING IN TEARS. SOWING IN TEARS. TO A MISSIONARY WIIo LABOURED MANY YEARS WITHOUT SEEING ANY RESULT. E have not sowed in vain ! Though the heavens seem as brass, And, piercing the crust of the burning plain, Ye scan not a blade of grass. Yet there is life within, And waters of life on high : One morn ye shall wake, and the spring's soft green O'er the moistened fields shall lit' ; Tears in the dull, cold eye, Light on the darkened brow, The smile of peace, or the prayerful sigh, Where the mocking smile sits now. Went ye not forth with prayer \ Then ye went not forth in v;iin ; SO WING fA ' TEA RS. I 7 3 "The Sower, the Son of man," was there, And His was that precious grain. Ye may not see the bud, The first sweet signs of spring, The first slow drops of the quickening shower On the dry, hard ground that ring ; But the harvest-home ye '11 keep, The summer of life ye '11 share, "When they that sow and they that reap Rejoice together there ! 1 7 \ MARA II AND HUM. MARAII AM) ELIM. HREE long days of desert sunshine, toiling 'neath those scorching beams, Three long nights of heavy silence, glad- dened by no sound of streams. Hear the waters now around us! see them sparkling in the sun '. Surely uow our trial ceaseth ! — surely now our goal is won '. Lips Long parched and sealed in silence press the joyous waves to kiss ; Eyes whose tears were dried by anguish overflow with tears of bliss ; Toil-worn men, themselves untasting, Leave to*d< lips the ]>rixo. Drinking draughts of deeper pleasure from the smile of grateful eyes. MARA // AND EUM. 1 7 5 But a moment ! but a moment ma}' the rapturous dream remain ; But a moment ! from the nation bursts a sob of wildest pain. Children dash the bitter waters from them with a moaning cry : Mothers, by the mocking fountains, lay their little ones to die. Hearts that bore the trial bravely, with this shat- tered hope have bur>t ; Streams for which we prayed and waited, bitter streams, but mock our thirst. AVas it but for this the ocean, parting, bent <>ur feet to kiss, Fiercely then our foes oerwhelmiug ? Were our first-born spared for this \ Better to be slaves in Egypt ! better to have perished there ! Better ne'er a hope have tasted, than to sink in this despair. Israel'. Israel! hush thy murmurs, hide thy' guilty head in dust ! 176 MAR All AND BUM. He who is the Joy of heaven feeleth grief in thy distrust. Gently to thy wails He answers, " I am He that healeth thee ;" E'en to-day the streams thou loathest shall thy best refreshment be. And to-morrow, but to-morrow, Ho thy sins so often grieve, Trains thee for, and storeth for thee, joys thy heart can scarce conceive. Coolest waters leaping, gushing 'neath the shade of many a palm ! Let no memory of murmurs mar for thee that blossed calm. So thy Marah shall be Elim, and thy Elim know no fears. For the fount of deepest gladness springeth near the place of tears. THE CHILD ON THE JUDGMENT-SEAT i 7 7 THE CHILD OX THE JUDGMENT-SEAT. HERE hast been toiling all day. sweet heart. That thy brow is burdened and sad ? The Master's work may make weary feet, But it leaves the spirit glad. Was thy garden nipped with the midnight frost, Or scorched with the mid-day glare ? Were thy vines laid low, or thy lilies crushed, That thy face is so full of care ? "No pleasant garden-toils were mine ! I have sate on the judgment-seat. Where the Master sits at eve and calls The children around His feet," How earnest thou on the judgment-seat, Sweet heart ? Who set thee there ? 'Tis a lonely and lofty seat for thee, And well might fill thee with care. 12 178 THE CHILD ON 'THE JUDGMENT-SEAT. "I climbed od the judgmentnseat myself, I have Bate there alone all day, For it grieved me to see the children around Idling their life away. "They wasted the Master's precious seed, They wasted the precious hours ; They trained not the vines, nor gathered the fruits. And they trampled the sweet, meek flowers." And what hast thou done on the judgment-seat, Sweet heart? What didst thou there? Would the idlers heed thy childish voice { Did the garden mend by thy care? "Nay, that grieved me more! I called and I cried. But they left me there forlorn ; My voice was weak, and they heeded not, Or they laughed my words t<> scorn." Ah, the judgment-seat was not for thee! The servants were not thine ! And the eyes which adjudge the praise and the blame, See further I ban thine or mine. THE CHILD OX THE JUDGMENT-SEAT. 179 The Voice that shall sound there at eve, sweet heart. Will not rais fco be heard ; It will hush the earth, and hnsh the heai And none will resist it- word. u Should I see the Mi asures 1 The stores that should feed His poor. And not lift my voice, be it weak as it may. And i: Wait till the evening falls, sweet heart. Wait till the evening falh : The Master is near and knoweth all, Wait till the Master calls. But how fared thy garden-plot, sweet heart. Whilst thou sat' st on the judgment-seat I Who watered thy roses and trained thy vines. And kept them from careless :; Nay, that is saddest of all t That is saddest of all ! My vines are trailing, my roses are parched, My lilies droop and fall."' 180 THE CUI J. I) ON THE JUDGMENT-SEAT. Go back to thy garden-plot, sweet heart ! Go back till the evening tails ! And bind thy lilies, and train thy vinos, Till for thee the Master calls. (i<» make thy garden fair as thou canst, Thou workest never alone, Ferchance he whose plot is next to thine Will see it. and mend his own. And the next may copy his, sweet heart, Till all grows fair and sweet; And when the Master comes at eve, Happy faces His coming will greet. Then shall thy joy be full, ^veet heart, In the garden so fair to see, In the Master's words of praise for all, Tn a look of His own for thee ! THE CR I ~SE Til A T EAJLE TH NOT. 1S1 THE CRUSE THAT FAILETH NOT. ssed to give than to receive " S thy cruse of comfort failing ? rise and share it with another. And through all the years of famine it shall serve thee and thy brother ; Love Divine will fill thy store-house, or thy hand- ful still renew ; Scanty fare for one will often make a royal feast for two. For the heart grows rich in giving : all its wealth is living grain ; Seeds, which mildew in the garner, scattered, fill with gold the plain. Is thy burden hard and heavy ? do thy steps drag wearily ? Help to bear thy brother's burden ; God will bear both it and thee. iS> THE CRUSE THAT FA1LETH NOT, Numb and weary on the mountains, wouldst thou sleep amidst the snow \ Chafe that frozen form beside thee, and together both shall glow. Art thou stricken in life's battle ? Many wounded round thee moan ; Lavish on their wounds thy balsams, and that balm shall heal thine own. Is the heart a well left empty ? None but God its void can fill ; Nothing but a ceaseless Fountain can its ceaseless longings still. Is the heart a living power '. self-entwined, its strength sinks low ; It can only live in loving, and by serving love will THE WAY, THE TRUTH. A XT) THE LIFE. I S3 THE WAY. THE TRUTH. AND THE LIFE. HOU ail the Way ! All ways are thorny mazes without Thee ; Where hearts are pierced, and thoughts all aimless stray ; In Thee the heart stands firm, the life moves free : Thou art our Way ! Thou art the Truth ! Questions the ages break against in vain Confront the spirit in its untried youth ; It starves while learning poison from the grain : Thou art the Truth '. Thou art the Truth: Truth for the mind grand, glorious, infinite. A heaven still boundless o'er its highest growth ; Bread fur the heart its daily need to meet: Thou art the Truth '. 1 84 THE WAY, THE TRUTH, AND THE LIFE. Thou art the Light ! Earth beyond earth do faintest ray can give ; Heaven's shadeless noontide Minds our mortal sight ; In Thee we look on God, and love, and live : Thou art our Light ! Thou art the Rock ! Doubts none can solve heave wild on every side, Wave meeting wave of thought in ceaseless shock ; On Thee the soul rests calm amidst the tide : Tli on art our Rock ! Thou art the Life ! All ways without Thee paths that end in death ; All life without Thee with death's harvest rife ; All truths dry hones, disjoined, and void of breath: Thou art our Life ! For Thou art Love ! Our Way and End ! the way is rest with Thee ! O living Truth, the truth is life in Thee ! O Life essential, life is Miss with Thee! For Thou art Love! HE SA FED THERS. " 185 "HE SAVED OTHERS." HEN scorn, and hate, and bitter envious pride Hurled all their darts against the Crucified, Found they no fault but this in Him so tried ? "He saved others ! " Those hands, thousands their healing touches knew ; On withered limbs they fell like heavenly dew ; The dead have felt them, and have lived anew : " He saved others." The blood is dropping slowly from them now ; Thou canst not raise them to Thy thorn-crown' d brow, Nor on them Thy parched lips and forehead bow : " He saved others ! " That Voice from out their graves the dead hath stirred ; Crushed, outcast hearts, grew joyful as they heard ; For every woe it 'had a healing word : " He saved others ! " 1 86 • ■ HE SA J r RD O TURKS. M For nil Thou hadst deep tones of sympathy - ll.i>t Thou no word for this Thine agony? Thou pitiedst all ; doth no man pity Thee? u He saved others ! " So many fettered hearts Thy touch hath treed, Physician ! and Thy wounds unstanched must bleed ; Hast Thou no halm for this Thy sorest need? " He saved others ! " Lord ! and one sign from Thee could rend the sky, One word from Thee, and low those mockers lie ; Thou mak'st no movement, utterest no cry. And savest us. TALI Til A CUM I. " i 3 7 TALITHA OUMir* ALU HA CUM I l n }}■$ Uh The mother spoke ; And lightly from slumber Tlie child awoke. * * * In sweet dreams folded At dawn of day, As in dew a rosebud, Tlie maiden lay. Tlie fair lids rounded In calm rep' Long lashes shading The cheek's soft rose. The lips half parted, As though she smiled. * " Taliiha, in the dialect of the people, a term of endearment used towards a young maiden." — Dean Afford 1S8 "TALITHA CUML" When with kisses the mother Awoke flic child. " Talitka cam' ! Damsel, arise : " And slowly opened Those happy eves. * * * In deep sleep buried. At close of day. Silent and pallid The maiden lay. In the heart no beating, On the cheek no rose ; Placid but rigid The pale lips close. No gentle heavings Of even breath. And the mother sobbeth, — " Not sleep, but death ! " No need for hushing 1 ler anguish now ; No wai lings will trouble That placid, brow. "TALITBA CUMI." 189 Xo wild lament! : The mourners make. Xo tumult of minstrels That sleep can break. Silence tliose death-wails Of wild despair ! Xot dead, but sleeping .'"' The Life is there ! Gentle His aecei Mother, as thine ; Yet Galilee's tempests Know them Divine. Kingly. He ehaseth The mocking Land ; Softly He toucheth The clay-cold hand. Tali tli a Damsel, arise ! " And slowly open Those death-sealed eyes. With a name of endearment, Tender and soft. l 9° "TALITHA CUM/." (Her mother had waked her From sleep with it oft), He ealls her spirit Beyond the tombs, — " Taliika cumi ! " She hears and comes. And the gates of Hades, The gates of brass, Which through the ages None living pass, Before those accents Quake as with thunder, Quiver like aspens, And part asunder ; Open like flowers Touched by the sun ; — Yet through the portals Passeth but one Fearless came through thorn The soul of the child ; Saw Him who called her, Knew I lini. and smiled TALITHA CUML " 191 " Talitka at mi /" The Saviour spoke ; And, as from light slumbers, The dead awoke. i8gl». 1Q2 GETIISEMANE. (iETHSEMANE. Now is my soul exceeding sorrowful, even unto death." The Lamb of God, who taketh away the sin of the world." IN hardens all the heart, with ice encrusting, And narrowing its current evermore ; Therefore, O Saviour, loving, pitying trusting, Thy heart, no ice of sin e'er crusted o'er, Was tenderer to feel each pang that tried Thee Than any heart which ever broke or bled ; The timid love that followed yet denied Thee, The selfish fear that kept far off, or fled. ***** But sin must ever weaken while it hardens, — Enfeebling to endure, or act, or dare ; Till nothing save the balm of heavenly pardons Can nerve the heart again to do or bear. Then must Thy heart be stronger far to suffer Than any sinful heart that over beat ; GETHSEMAXE. 193 And if Thy path than any path be rougher, Yet hast Thou tenfold strength its woes to meet. What tide of grief, then, Mightiest ! o'er Thee rushes, Thus tasking e'en Thy patience and Thy trust ? What woe beyond all woe Thy spirit crushes, Bowing Thee, sinless, spotless, to the dust ? Martyrs for Thee have gone to meet their anguish, Singing glad psalms e'en with their dying breath; Not all their tortures causing once to languish The hope that led them forth for Thee to death. Thy Stephen's face shone like a happy angel's, Uplifted, 'midst the stones, towards Thy skies, Beaming from radiant brows Thine own evangels, And glowing with the welcome in Thine eyes. Yet Thou, Lord, liftest not Thy face to heaven, But bowest prostrate on the dewy sod ; Thy soul exceeding sorrowful, with death-pangs riven, Thy sweat of anguish as great drops of blood. What storm is this in which Thou all but sinkest, Whose arm has borne so many through the flood ? What bitter cup is this from which Thou shrinkest, Strength of all martyrs, patient Lamb of God ? 13 r1 est Falls the summons, " Come and see." Christian, tell it to thy brother, From life's dawning to its cud ; Every hand may clasp another, And the Loneliest bring a friend ; Till the veil is drawn aside. And from where her home shall be Bursts upon the enfranchised Bride The 1 1 iumphant " ( lome and IT IS I; BE XOT AFRAID." IT IS I; BE XOT AFRAID.' Matt xiv. 27. OSSED with rough winds, and iaint with fear, Above the tempest soft and clear. What still small accents greet mine ear ? — "'Tis I; be not afraid. " 'Tis I, who washed thy spirit white ; 'Tis I, who gave thy blind eyes sight ; 'Tis I, thy Lord, thy Life, thy Light : 'Tis I ; be not afraid. " These raging winds, this surging sea, Have spent their deadly force on Me ; They bear no breath of wrath to Thee ; ; Tis I ; be not afraid. " This bitter cup, I drank it first ; To thee, it is no draught accurst : 214 " IT IS I; BE NOT AFRAID." The hand that gives it thee is pierce 1 : Tis I ; be not afraid " Mine eyes are watching by thy bed, .Mine arms are underneath thy head, My blessing is around thee shed : 'Tis I ; be not afraid. " When on the other side, thy feet Shall rest 'mid thousand welcomes sweet, One well-known voice thy heart shall greet 'Tis I ; be not afraid." Clothed with all might and majesty, Gently He'll lay His hand on thee, Saying, " Beloved, lov'st thou Me ? 'Twas not in vain I died for thee ; 'Tis I ; be not afraid." REST FOR THE HE A VY LADEX. 2 j REST FOR THE HEAVY LADEX. " Come unto Me., all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will M ATT. xi. 2>. ELENCE in heaven and earth ! The hush of love or fear ! His voice the Highest sendeth forth ; The still small voice is here. The world's hoarse murmurs under, It- loudest din It speaketh not in thunder, But in words, and the tune is love. It calls, and a gift it ofE To whom are those words addressed ? " Come, ye that are heavy lad And I will give you ret Ye that have toiled in vain. Till strength and hope have fled, And lavished fch me not again, For that which is not bread ; Ye who are toiling now, Weary in heart and limb. 2l6 REST FOR THE HEAVY LADEX. With a strength each day more low; And a hope each day more dim ; Weary in soul and spirit, Toiling with hearts oppressed : "Come to Me, all that labour, And I will give you rest." Is guilt unpardoned there With heavy hand and strong, The weight in the air of measureless fear, Or of hope deferred long? The sorrow which freezeth tears With the force of a sudden blow, The long, dull pressure of weary years, Bowing you silently low ? Many the burdens and hard Wherewith the heart is pressed : " Come, all that are heavy laden, And [ will give you rest." The world has many a promise To beguile the blithe and young; But to you the world Is honest, — It has eea-ed to promise long. Wealth, pleasures, tame, sue The world has store of these: — REST FOR THE HE A VY LAD EX. For you it no cure professes. It offers you no ease. But Christ has an arm almighty, And a balm for the faintest breast : " Come, ye that are heavy laden, And I will give you rest." Would ye fain, among the sleepers, In dust your tired heads bow ? The rest He gives is deeper, And He will give it now. No dull, oblivious sleep, In the lull of pain repressed, But all your hearts to steep In perfect and conscious rest, — Rest that shall make you strong To serve among the blest : " Come, all that are heavy laden, And I will give you rest." The rest of a happy child Led by the Father on, Feeling His smile, and reconciled To all that He has done ; Of one who can meekly bend 'Neath the yoke of the Lord who died ; i 8 REST FOR THE HF.A VY LADEN, Of a soldier who knows how the fight will end With a Leader true and tried; The rest of a subject heart, Of its best desires possessed : " Come, ye that are heavy laden, And I will _inve you rest." Rest from sin's crushing debt, In the blood which Christ has shed ; From the pang of vain regret, In the thought that He has led. Rest in His perfect love ; Rest in His tender care ; Rest in His presence for you above, In His presence with you here. Rest in Him slain and risen, The Lamb, and the Royal Priest : " Come, all that are heavy laden, And I will give you rest." MY STREXGTII AXD MY HEART TAILETII. 2 1 9 MY STRENGTH AXD MY HEART FAILETH." N weakness at Thy feet I lie, Thine eye each pang hath seen ; Scarce can I lift my heart on high, Yet. Lord, on Thee I lean: Lean on Thy sure, unfailing word. Thy gentle "It is I;" For Thou, my ever-living Lord, Know'st what it is to die. Thou wilt be with me when I go, — Thy life my life in death ; For, in the lowest depths, I know Thine arms are underneath. "Tis not the infant's feeble grasp Which holds the mother fast ; It is the mother's gentle clasp Around her darling cast. 220 MY STRENGTH AND MY HEART FAILETH. Just so Thy child would cling to Thee, Knowing Thy pity long; For feeble as my faith may be, The hand I clasp is strong. COD IS LOVF. 22 GOD IS LOVE. FREE TRANSLATION OF PSALM XXXVI. Vex. ;'>-ll.^ HY mercies link heaven with earth, Like the clouds, fall and gather again; They fill all the heavens like light, They freshen all earth like the rain. Like the mountains Thy righteousness stands, From whose stern sides the living stream flows ; Their calm brows look down on the storms, And the plains in their strong arms repose. Thy judgments are fathomless depths, Yet the deepest in blessings abound ; Xo chaos or darkness is there, — Love fills what no creature can sound. But what can compare with Thy love, So boundless, so costly, so free ? 222 GOD IS LOVE. Thy truth and Thy justice are Thine ; Who speak of Thy Love speak of Thee! It broods like the mother-bird's wing ; It yeams to fold all to its breast ; And all who will listen and trust, And gather beneath it, are blest. For with Thee is the Fountain of Life, Thou wilt give us to drink of it soon, The cold waters fresh from the Rock, Ever fresh in the glow of Thy noon. And with Thee is the Eclen of bliss ; Its sunshine no Fall shall eclipse, Its rivers flow pure from Thy throne, And Thy hand lifts the draught to our lips. Thou wilt lead us within Thine abode, The feast which Thou spreadest to share ; We shall dwell in Thy house as a home, — The heart will be satisfied there. Oh, make our hearts pure to behold, And light in Thy light we shall see ; For to gaze and still gaze on Thy love. OUT ( !od, is to gaze upon Tin SUMMER IN THE SOUL." 223 SUMMER IN THE SOUL." UTUMN was on the earth When Summer came to me, The " Summer in the soul,'' And set the life-springs free. Darkness was on my life, A heavy weight of night, When the Sun arose within, And filled my heart with light. Ice lay upon my heart, Ice-fetters still and strong, When the living spring gushed forth, And filled my soul with song. That Summer shall not fade, That Sun, it setteth never ; The Fountain in my heart Springs full and fresh for ever. "SUMMER IN THE son.." since I Law learned Thy love, My Summer, Lord, Thou art; Summer to me, and Day, And life-springs in my heart Since T have learned Thou Art, Thou livest, and art Love, Art Love, and Invest me, — Fearless I look above ' Thy blood can cleanse from sin, Thy love casts out my fear; Heaven is no longer far, Siuce Thou, its Sun. art near. NEVER FURTHER THAX THY CR< EVER further than Thy Cross Never higher than Thy feet ! Here earth's precious tilings seem dross: Here earth's hitter things grow sv Gazing thus, our sin we see ; Learn Thy love while gazing thus ! which laid the Cross on Thee ; Love, which bore the Cross for as. Here from pomp and pride retired. Nothing would we seem or be : Dust ! yet with Thy life inspired ; thing ! yet beloved of Th#e. Here we learn to serve and give, And. obedient, self deny ; Here we gather love to live, Here we gather faith to die. NEVER FURTHER Til AX THY CROSS. Symbols of our liberty And our service here unite ; Captives by Thy Cross set free, Soldiers of Thy Cross we fight. Pressing onward as we can, Still to this our hearts shall tend ; — Where our earliest hopes began, There our last aspirings end; lill, amidst the hosts of light, We, in Thee redeemed, complete, Through Thy Cross made pure and white, Cast our crowns before Thy feet. THE FOLD AXD TLIE PALACE. 227 THE FOLD AXD THE PALACE. THE FOLD. HERE is a fold, once dearly bought, But opened now to all, * 5SS ™ Reaching: from regions higrh as thought, Low as our race can fall : Far up among the sunny hills, Where breaks the earliest day ; Down where the deepest shadow chills The wanderer's downward way. There some have seen a Shepherd stand, ^lio guards it day and night ; Mightier than all, His gentle hand, His eyes the source of light. I know, the feeblest that have e'er Entered those precincts blest Find everlasting safety there, Freedom and life and rest. 228 THE FOLD AND THE PALACE, Bui I have wandered far astray, Blinded and wearied sore ; How can I find the plainest way, Or reach the nearest door? The silence with a voice is fraught — When did I hear that tone ?- — Awful as thunder, soft as thought, Familiar as mine own. " I am the Door," those words begin ; I press towards that voice, And, ere I know it, am within. And all within rejoice. THE PALACE. There is a Palace vast and bright ; Athwart the night's cold gloom Stream its soft music and warm light, A Palace, yet a Home. The guests who are invited there Are called tin-rein to dwell ; — Laden with sin. oppressed with care. The calling suits me well. THE FOLD AXD THE PALACE. 229 They say none ever knocked in vain, Yet I have often tried, And scarce have strength to try again, — Will one, then, be denied ? Again that voice my spirit thrills, So strange, yet so well known ; Divine, as when it rent the hills, Yet human as ray own. The golden portals softly melt, Like clouds around the sun, And where they stood, and where I knelt, Behold that matchless One ! He pleads for me, He pleads with me, He hears ere I can call ; Jesus ! my first step is to Thee, And Thy first gift is all ! ON A BAPTISM. ON A BAPTISM. 'The waves of this troublesome world." EAR the shore the bark lay floating, by the sunny waves caressed, With the darling we were watching cradled in a dreamy rest. But, borne o'er that heaving ocean, wilder sounds our gladness check, Stormy winds and human wailings ; — ah ! that sea bears many a wreck. Fear not! hopes no strength could warrant to the feeblest faith are given : Looking forward strains the eyesight, — looking upward opens heaven. Deeper than that ocean's tempests, softer than its murmurs be, Breathes a Voice, a Voice thou knowest, — '* Trust thy little one bo Me." OAT A BAPTISM. 23 T Thou bast brought thy babe to Jesus ; He hath seen her, He hath blest ; In His arms thy faith hath laid her, and He bears her on His breast Gently on thy sleeping darling, eyes, the light of heaven, shine : Mother, by the love thou knowest, measure His ; — it passeth thine. BABY ALICE, BABY ALICE. VBY ALICE, Baby Alice, Is thy soul a beam of light, That it twinkleth through thy dark eyes So witching and so bright ? Our song-bird, and our rosebud, Our sunshine every day ; One such flower makes a summer, One such bird makes a May. Our fairy-queen of frolic, Whose smiles are magic treasures ; Our singing-tree and talking-bird, Our gulden fount of pleasui Our rose, our pearl, our dew-drop, Our dayspring, and our star; All sweet Dames «>n tine we lavish, And lind thee sweeter far. BABY ALICE. 233 What sound can have such music As thy sudden laughter bright ? What words can have such meaning As thy murmurs of delight ? Baby Alice, Baby Alice, Better than beams of light Is thy spirit, for it cometli From the Fountain of all light. May Christ be with thee, darling, Hallowing thy youth's glad feast, Thy cup of life transforming To a Blessed Eucharist. He will be with thee, darling, Guarding from sins and harms ; For He blessed all they brought to Him, And we laid thee in His arms. 23 \ THE POWER 0I< LIFE, THE POWER OF LIFE.* HE spring is coming apace, mother, Yet the old leaves will not fall ; If they do not hasten, the young leaves Will find no room at all. " Shall I shake the beech-tree branches Like the winds in their autumn play, Till the dead leaves fall in showers Together, all in a day '. 11 Shall I climb the boughs where they linger, And pluck them one by one ; That the baby leaves may stretch themselves, And be glad, and feel the sun?" ' 'Twere a weary task t<> pluck them Tli us singly, my child, away ; 'Twould need a stronger hand than thine To sweep them down in a day. • Suggested fay ;i Lecture <>f ProfeMor Owen's. THE TOWER OF LIFE. 235 11 Maybe since thus they linger, They've something left to do ; Maybe the poor old withered leaves Still cradle and shelter the new/' " But, mother, the world is waiting, And the birds on every tree : Will God send a mighty tempest To set the young leaves free ?" " Be patient, my child, be patient. The old Earth knows her way ; And the Lord of Life is working, He is working every day. " He sent His winds in autumn, He will send them yet again ; The winds, and storms, and lightnings, With the sweeping floods of rain. "They arc safe in His hands, the tempesl In His, but not in ours ; Xo hand may wield the lightnings, But the hand that folds the flowers. ' k He is Lord of the winds and thunder-. But has stronger powers than they ; 236 THE POWER OF LIFE. And the Lord of Life is working, He is working every day. " Last year the tiny leaf- bud Peeped from the old leafs stalk, And all through the noisy winter It heard the wild winds talk. " It heard them fiercely boasting How they swept the dead away ; — But it only kept growing, growing ; It could wait, it was stronger than they. " For the power of life was stirring That shielding sheath within, Growing, silently growing, Through all the storm and din. " Till now one fair spring morning, When the sunbeams all awake, They will touch it, will softly kiss it, And its last slight fetters break. ' : The old leaf will fall, and the leaf-sheath, The young Leaf spread glad and green, And gaze on the sun in his beauty, Without a veil between, THE POWER OF LIFE. 11 For the Lord of Life is working. And His strongest force is life ; Ever with Death it wageth Silent, victorious strife. ' Ever with Death it weaveth The warp and woof of the world ; The nights when the forces are gathered. The dawns with their banners unfurled • And Truth is stronger than Falsehood. And needs but an open field ; And Love is stronger than Hatred. And Love will never yield. For God is Love, and He liveth. And life is His living breath, And one breath of life is stronger b Than all the hosts of Death. •• Yes ; God i- Love, and He liveth, And life is His living breath ; And the pulses of life gain vigour 'Neath the shroud and the sleep of death. 238 THE STILL WATERS OE THE VALLEY THE STILL WATERS OF THE VALLEY. JJlHEIR Source is on the mountains, m\ The Streams of which we drink ; But we must tread the valleys, If we would reach their brink. Their Source is on the mountains, Higher than feet can go ; Yet human lips but touch them In the valleys, still and low. Beyond the fields and forests, Beyond the homes of men, Beyond the wild-goat's refuge, Beyond the eagle's ken, — Beyond the oldest glaciers, Beyond the loftiest snows, Beyond the furthest summit Where earliest morning glows, — Still climbing, ever climbing, To reach tin- Streams we love, THE STILL WATERS OF TILE VALLEY. 239 Their music ever with us, Their Source is still above, — Beyond heaven's heights of glory, As beyond earth's heights of snow, — Yet can our lips but taste them In the valleys, still and low. Once, when the heavenly voices Seemed to call me on their track, I wondered why some hindrance Still drew my footsteps back ; Some feeble steps to succour, Some childish feet to lead, Some wandering lambs to gather, Some hungered ones to feed ; Some call of lowly duty, With low, resistless tone ; Some weight of o thers' burdens, Some burden of my own. But now, though heavenly voices Still bid my spirit soar, While my feet tread lowly places, I wonder thus no more. Their Source is on the mountains, The Streams of which we drink : 2.;o THE STILL WATERS OF THE VALLEY. But only in the valleys Our lips can reach their brink. Our hearts are on the mountains, Whither our feet shall go ; But our path is in the valleys, Where the still waters flow. Christmas Eve l HITHER TO ME! n 241 HITHER TO ME:"* KING of nien, when thousands thronging, Gathered to Thee ; The thousand streams in one stream meeting — The thousand hearts with one throb beating. Hanging on Thee,+ hanging on Thee: No pomp of state that crowd repelling. All pressed to Thee ! Thou royally the throng addressing, Divinely calledst each to blessing, •■ Hither to Me ! hither to Me !" With labour worn and heavy laden, Hither to Me ! The hardest yoke is easy near Me. With Me is rest for all the weary, Hither to Me ! hither to Me!" * To a Melody of Mendelssohn's. t Luke xii I tin. 16 "HITHER TO ME!" 1 1 command and God-like promise — "Hither to Me!" () words whoso links death cannot sever! balm for all life's ills for ever! — "Hither to Me! hither to Me!" Through nights of sorrow falling softly- — "Hither to Me!" Earth's thousand noises piercing keenly, O'er wildest storms they float serenely — " Hither to Me ! hither to Me !" We hear them still, we hear them ever — "Hither to Me!" We hear them daily clearer, dearer, Drawing us ever higher, nearer — '• Hither to Me! hither to Me !" March HOLIES T XIGHT. 2 4 3 HOLIEST NIGHT:* RWaOLIEST night ! happiest night ! Midnight is bright as with noon-day light Angels find their heaven on earth, Hailing with hymns the marvellous birth, The Babe, the Redeemer is near. Stormy night ! perilous night ! Winds and waves with the frail bark fight ; Over the waves walks a human form, Human accents arrest the storm — The Saviour, the Master is here. Radiant night ! glorious night ! Shrined in the cloud on the mountain height, His raiment as sunshine, his face as the sun, Prophets adoring, and glory begun — Jesus transfigured is here ! Dreariest night ! deadliest night ! © o Midnight falls on the noon-day light : To the melody of a Tyrolese Christmas Hymn. 244 HOLIEST NIGHT. Night on the noon, and earthquake, and strife, Death on the heart whence the worlds draw life- Jesus in anguish is here ! Lingering night ! vanishing night ! Watch and pray till the morn dawns bright ; Singing and shining, in vigil stand — " The night is far spent, the day is at hand" — Jesus the Day-star is near ' 3£> Mfc WHAT THOU WILT:' 24$ "WHAT THOU WILT, O MY FATHER, AND WHEN." AID the roses, long drooping with drought, Now shaken like snow from the tree, By the gusts of the boisterous winds That had learned their rough play on the sea : " winds, we are delicate flowers, Queenly flowers ! touch us gently, we pray ; For these light flakes ye scatter in jest Do not gather again, like the spray. " The waves break and gather, but we Once broken, arise not again." But the winds frolicked wildly, and said, " Never fear ! we are bringing the rain." Said the corn, bending low as they passed, " Take heed where your revels ye keep ; Ye are treading the fair fruitful Earth, Not the salt barren wastes of the deep." *6 " WHAT THOU WILT? But the winds laughed and swept on their way, And said, " Children, never complain ; We are friends of your mother, the Earth, — She has cried, and we bring her the rain." Said the sick child, in feverish unrest, While the winds made rough riot about, Whistling wildly where holes let them in, Storming fiercely where walls kept them out: " winds, stop your gambols awhile, Ye have frolicked and shouted all day ; Let me sleep, let me sleep in the night, — Will ye never be tired of your play?" Then the winds softly sighed, as they said, " Dost thou too mistake and complain ? For thee we were sent o'er the sea, For thee we are bringing the rain." But the roses still trembled and drooped, And the sick child still murmured and wept, Till a sultry calm fell on the land, And the hushed winds all heavily slept. Then the roses drooped lifeless and pale, And the shrivelled corn parched as it grew, " WHAT THOU WILT.' 247 And the sick child with burning lips sighed, Tossing sleepless the sultry night through. " Oh, why did I murmur and moan \ God sent His kind winds o'er the sea ; He sent them to bring us the rain, They came for the earth and for me. :: God sent His kind winds o'er the m And I murmured and moaned them awa Come again ! I would welcome you now, Be your voices as rough as they may!" Then the winds rose and cheerilj " Fear not ; He who sent, send-; us still : Your murmurs have marred your content, But check not His merciful will. "■ We come ; He who sent us is go" To your moans He gave sorrowful he< Yet paused not one hour in His care To provide you the help that you need. "Now all things are ready, we come, We come on his errands again ; His fountains are full, and o'erflo "VYc have brought, we ha ve brongh t you there 24S " WHAT THOU WILT." Then the showers poured melodiously down, And the rose-tree drank deep to the roots, And the parched Earth looked up and was glad, And laughed through her flowers and her fruits. And the Love that is stronger than all, Like the showers of the life-giving rain Sank deep in the heart of the child, Till the incense of praise rose again. And flooding her soul to the brim, Flowed the calm of the angels' " Amen," As with clasped hands she prayed ere she slept, " What Thou wilt, O my Father, and When." July 1S05. ^^ TO OUR AMERICAN COUSINS. 249 TO OUR AMERICAN COUSINS. XE people in our early prime, One in our stormy youth ; Drinking one stream of human thought, One spring of heavenly truth ; One language at our mother's knee, One in our Saviour's prayer, — One glorious heritage is ours ; One future let us share. The heroes of our days of old Are yours, not ours alone ; Your Christian heroes of to-day, We love them as our own. There are too many homeless lands, Far in the wild free West, To be subdued for God and man, Replenished and possest ; — 250 TO OCR AM ERIC AX COUSINS. There arc too many fallen men, Far in the ancient East, To be won back to truth and God, From cramping bonds released ; — There is too much good work to do, And wrong to be undone ; Too many strongholds from the foe Yet must be forced and won ; — That we whom God hath set to be The vanguard of the tight, To bear the standard of His truth, And to defend the right, Should leave the mission of our race, So high, and wide, and great, On petty points of precedence To wrangle and debate ; — That blustering words of little men (With poisonous venom rife), Who must be angry to be heard. Should stir us up to strife. Nay! side by side in East and West, In wild or heathen lands, TO OUR AM ERIC AX C0US1XS. 251 One prayer upon our hearts and lips, One Bible in our hands. One in our earliest home on earth, One in our heavenly home, We'll fight the battles of our King, Until His kingdom come. Mar:. MEMORIAL VERSES IN MEMORY OF HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS THE PRINCE CONSORT. DECEMBER 18C1. ILENTLY springing upward, as grow the things of God, His life grew up among us, and cast its shade abroad ; Silently, as the sapling grows to the forest oak ; — As the Temple on the Hill of God, profaned by no rude stroke.* Silently, as the sunlight deepens through all the air, Till, scarcely thinking whence it comes, we feel it everywhere ; — Yet only as he leaves us, we gaze upon the sun, And as we say, "How beautiful!" he sets, and day is done. * A comparison used in the Times in reference to the Trince Consort. 256 JN MEMORY OF HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS Silently pressing onward, as work the men of God, The lowly path of duty, on the dizzy heights he trod. — Gifted with powers which meaner men with fade- less bays have crowned ; With a poet's sense of beauty in hue, and form, and sound ; Steadfastly, as for life or fame, — yet not for self, — he wrought ; But royally for others spent strength, and time, and thought ; In guiding other men to fame, — showing what fame should be, — Inspiring other men to do, and training them to see ; Lightening the heart of genius from the crippling load of care ; Making poor men's homes more home-like, and all men's homes more fair ; Bringing beauty like the sunshine, into common things, and small ; Ennobling toil forworking-men, ennobling life for all! THE PRINCE CONSORT 257 In lowly, self-forgetful works, none but the noblest do, Till few among the mighty have left a fame so true ; Lining a life so meekly great beside an empire's throne, That the humblest man among us by it might mould his own ; Dying, to bind a nation, as only tears can bind, For once, with all its myriad aims, one home, one heart, one mind ; Crowned by an empire's sorrow, mourning from end to end ; Wept silently in countless homes, as each had lost a friend. Thus silently God took him, early ripened in his prime, From the echoes and the shadows of these dim shores of Time ; 17 258 IN MEM OR V OF HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS To the Song which wakes the echoes, broken here by din and strife ; To the Light which casts the shadows, the Light in whom is life ; To the Throne for us abandoned once, for the Cross, and shame, and pain ; To the One who sits there evermore, — the One who has been slain ; To the living, loving Fountain of all great, and good, and fair, — To dwell with Him for ever, and be made perfect there ! And e'en from such a home as his, where all earth's best w T as blent, Can we doubt, when God thus called him, that willingly he went ? But for that perfect home his loss has left so desolate, And for that woe, made matchless by years of joy so great, THE PR IXC E COXSORT. 259 Thy people would have shed their blood this woe from thee to keep ; But now what can thy nation do, our Queen, for thee but weep ! Yet surely God has balms for pain nothing on earth can still ; Love which can soothe its bitterness, Duty its void to fill. First folding to One boundless heart of ever-present Love The weeping children wandering here, and those at home above. Then when the sharp new anguish, now so keen and quick and strange, Has sunk into the slow dull pain, the blank that cannot change, "With the sacred tones of Duty, Love wakes the heart again; " Life is no empty barren waste, and grief is not in vain." Empty for none ; and least of all, "Mother and Queen, for thee ; 20o IN MEMORY OE HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS. Could tears but tell thee what thou art to us, and still shalt be ! What it has been to England, through years of storm and gloom, To honour in her highest place, for a chair of state, — a home ! Could' st thou but know the healing dews of honest, loving tears, Which flow for thee, from eyes long dried by the dull weight of cares ; Or how the love thy life has won through all thy happy years, Deepened to tenderest reverence, now soars to heaven in prayers ; Oh, would not all the track of life, which seems so long to grief, Filled with such service for thy land, even to thee seem brief? J aim ory 18G2. THE SHADOW OF DEA TH 26 1 THE SHADOW OF DEATH AND "THE SHADOW OF DYING."* There are many shadows of death.' There are calamities, bereavements, desolations which, for the moment, sunder you from earth much the same as if you were absent from the body; and fierce diseases which come so near to dissolution that you ask, ' Tell me, my soul, can this be death?' But if these are shadows of death, on the other hand the be- liever's dissolution is but the shadow of dying. The light of the gospel penetrates far in, and the glory about to be revealed shines clear and bright beyond." — A Morning by the Lake of Galilee, by Dr. Hamilton*. HILST in breathless repose thou art lying, Thy words still breathe forth living breath ; To thee but " the shadow of dying," On us rests " the shadow of death." The barrier changed to a portal, The glory on thee through hath shined ; Thou hast passed from its shadow, immortal, And left all the shadows behind. * In memory of the Eev. James Hamilton, D.D. 262 THE SHADO W OF DEA Til But on us still the shadow is resting; The shadow is all we can see ; Earth with heavier darkness investing, By all the sweet light lost with thee ; — With the mind ever fearlessly moving To welcome all light from all sides ; With the heart which by force of its loving Swept all ice-blocks away in its tides ; With that lowliness, gentlest, serenest, Like a glory around thee which shone, Who could' st stoop to give love to the meanest, But stoop to seek honour from none ; With the wide-seeing glance of the sages, And the glad, simple trust of the child ; — Spirit radiant as e'er through the ages Loved to drink of the well undefiled ! We count it thy joy to be taken, Thou countedst it ours to be left ; Still earth's sleep with the Glad News to waken. Nor quite of thy presence bereft. In one Church Universal abiding (No narrower Home e'er was thine), AND " THE SHADO W OF D YING." 263 In one God and Father confiding, One Lord ever human, divine ; On one Strength, in one service, relying, 'Embreathed by one Spirit's life-breath; In the light of Him living whose dying Has made but a shadow of death. Monday, November 24, 18C7. 26 I THE SCHOOL AND THE HOME. THE SCHOOL AND THE HOME.* 'HY do we moan, and wonderingly complain, And murmur, mysterious ways of God! When the fine gold whence beams His image plain Is stored within His innermost abode ? It were mysterious if the Master's hand Lavished its skill some choice work to prepare, And then, unfinished, cast it on the strand, To perish incomplete and broken there. But when the last completing touch is given, The master-touch that all the rest inspin And the rich colours and the gold of heaven, — Enamelled in the last of many fires, — Shin.' forth at Length to full perfection wrought, A vessel meet the Master's Eouse to grace, ' [n memory of the Rev J. I>. Bonn. THE SCHOOL AXD THE HOME. 265 A picture breathing with the Master" s thought. A portrait beaming back the Master's Face; — "What wonder if His treasure thence He take, Where earthly damps the burnished gold might dim. Where careless hands the gracious form might break — Take to the Fathers House, within, with Him? What wonder, when the training of the schools Has done such work as schools and lessons can; When through the discipline of tasks and rules The boy compacts, expands into the man, — If to the Field the Father bids him come, Where manhood's earnest standards are unfurled ? Is not the school an exile from the home ? Is not the school the threshold of a world ? Who wonders, when the finished gem is borne Its light upon the sovereign's brow to yield I — Who would not wonder if the ripened corn Were left to perish on the harvest-field ? Yet we who wander o'er the leafless land, Where golden seas waved musical and fair : 266 THE SCHOOL AND Til E HOME. On us falls heavily, as thus we stand, The blank and silence of the falling year. Still at the school, we miss the brother's eye, Whose working near us made us work our best, AYhose generous smile still drew our aims on high, AVhose ripe achievement shamed self-soothing rest. AVe mourn. " God ! we needed him so much ! Here are so many tangling coils to loose, So many hearts that need the tenderest touch, So few hands trained like his to finest use ! " And hast Thou thus through blows and fires," we sigh, " And subtlest touches shaped this instrument For choicest work, only to rest on high ?" But swift the answer smites our discontent: "This earth is but for learning and for training, Earth's highest work but such as children do; The workmen here their priceless skill are gain- ing The true life-work is yonder, out of view." THE SCHOOL AND THE HOME. 267 Lord, we would bow, while faith our grief controls, And thank Thee for the liberating blow, "Winch breaks these chains wherewith we cramp our souls To little rounded dreams of life below ; — Which shows this life doth but our life begin, Is but outside, the porch of the Abode, And death the going home, the entering in, The stepping forth on the wide world of God. 2^8 IT IS NO DREAM. IT IS NO DREAM.* AS it a dream 1 such gladness with it bringing, That life whose dawn with such deep joy we hailed, — Those loving baby arms so fondly clinging, — Those eyes whose smiles so soon in death were veiled ? Alas ! no dream had left such life-long traces, Such silence as that little voice has left, — The blank no other presence e'er replaces ; It is no dream which leaves us thus bereft. It is no dream ! Thy spirit dieth never ! That little star through endless time shall beam ; Beaven shall be brighter for thy light for ever, And gladder for thy voice. It is no dream ! * To • on the death of their only boy. IT IS NO DREAM. 269 It is no dream ! By God that gift was given ; Man may repent his gifts ; God deals not thus. A new immortal joy is ours in heaven, And He who gave will give thee back to us. It is no dream, that Paradise immortal Where He who bless' d the babes has welcomed thee: Fearless the infants pass its solemn portal, Borne in His arms, His face alone they see. Yet, Father ! who, for us, in love most tender, Didst yield to death Thy Son, Thine only Son, Thou knowest all the cost of such surrender ; Help us to say with Him, Thy will be done ; Till looking back, with this our child beside us, On all the way through which our feet were brought, We sing, " It was no dream by which God tried us — Xo dream the weight of glory it has wrought •" 270 " THE ANGELS CARRIED LAZARUS." 'THE ANGELS CARRIED LAZARUS." |ITH the pomp of the Funeral Train, They bear him, with measured tread, And such poor tributes of honour and love As mortals render their dead. But the Immortal Train He looked for, has passed hence, long, Cleaving the depths of the silent sky, To the land of licrht and song. No mute and passive form That escort of Angels bore ! With a spirit awakened to deathless life To the Lord of life they soar. We think of the faithful life Whose age was the crown of its youtli, * In memory of Richard Bunion Sanderson, E»q. " THE ANGELS CARRIED LAZARUS." 271 Lowly in service, lofty in aim, Unflinchingly true to truth. We think of the glorious crowns By the faithful servants won, Abundant entrance," and rich reward, And the Master's high "Well done."' He thought of the mercy that saves, Of the blood that cleanses from sin, Of the Angels who bore the beggar home, And the Saviour's welcome in. In silence they lay him to rest By the beloved of years : Xo welcome comes from that house of death, No response to the mourner's tears. But when that Immortal Train Swept up through the silent night, What welcomes many, and deep, and glad, Thrilled through the mansions of lio-ht, Where, together for evermore, They dwell in the Father's home, And look on the face of the Lord they served, And wait till the rest shall come ! 272 ALL LIVE UNTO ///.)/. ALL LIVE UNTO HIM.* |HY voice is not hushed, darling, though to me its tones are still, And have left a silence in my home no music e'er can fill ; There is a place within God's world where thou art heard, my boy, And thy words are words of praise, and thy tones are tones of joy. Thine eyes are not closed, darling, though they are closed to me, And half the light is gone with them from all the sights I see ; They have but opened on the day, the day that needs no rest, And they shine like happy stars in the heaven of the bless'd. * For b friend, 09 the death of her little boy. ALL LIVE UNTO HIM. 273 Thy spirit has not passed away, no sleep its vision shrouds ; It has but passed into the light, the light beyond the clouds. Thou art not lonely, darling, though so lone thou hast left me, — Thousands of happy spirits love and rejoice with thee ; And He who loved the little ones, and tenderly caressed, Has laid thee in His arms, darling, and clasped thee to His breast. 18 7 1- TO ONE AT REST. TO ONE AT REST. |NI) needcst thou our prayers no more, safe folded 'mid the bless'd ? How changed art thou since last we met to keep the day of rest ! Young with the youth of angels, wise with the growth of years ; For we have passed since thou hast gone a week of many tears, And thou hast passed a week in heaven, a week without a sin, Thy robes made white in Jesus' blood, all glorious within, We shall miss thee at a thousand turns along life's weary track, — Not a sorrow or a joy, but we shall long to call fchee back ; TO OXE AT REST. 275 Yearn for thy true and gentle heart, long thy bright smile to see : For many dear and true are left, but none are quite like thee ! And evermore to all our life a deeper tone is given, For a playmate of our childhood has entered into heaven. How wise, and great, and glorious, thy gentle soul has grown, Loving as thou art loved by God, knowing as thou art known ! Yet in that world thou carest yet for those thou lovedst in this ; The rich man did in torments, and wilt not thou in bliss ? For sitting at the Saviour's feet, and gazing in His face, Surely thou'lt not unlearn one gentle human grace. Human, and not angelic, the form He deigns to wear, Of Jesus, not of angels, the likeness thou shalt bear. 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