Poems and Hymns 
 
FROM THE LIBRARY OF 
 REV. LOUIS FITZGERALD BENSON, D. D. 
 
 BEQUEATHED BY HIM TO 
 
 THE LIBRARY OF 
 
 PRINCETON THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY 
 
 Scctio* <7<?7/ 
 

 Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2012 with funding from 
 
 Princeton Theological Seminary Library 
 
 http://archive.org/details/poemshymnsOOgans 
 

 POEMS AND HYMNS 
 
 BY 
 
 HERVEY DODDRIDGE GANSE 
 
 WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY 
 
 REV. HERRICK JOHNSON, D. D. 
 
 CHICAGO 
 
 Young Men's Era Publishing Co. 
 
 85 Fifth Avenue. 
 
COPYRIGHTED BY 
 
 EMMA E. GANSE, 
 1892. 
 
Gbls little volume of f)Emns ano otber 
 verses, written curing a <3ospel ministry of 
 nearly fiftg sears, is publisbeo bg bis 
 family as a loving tribute to tbe autbor's 
 memory ano wltb gratttuoe to <3oo tor bis 
 life ano worn. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Where do the Flowers ( '.row ? 1 1 
 
 My Mary 12 
 
 The Aspen 13 
 
 For An Album 17 
 
 An Acrostic 
 
 Patriotic iS 
 
 Impromptu — For an Album 20 
 
 The Last Review 21 
 
 Fifty Years Ago 22 
 
 To E 24 
 
 For the First Page of an Album 25 
 
 Ad Astra 26 
 
 That Distant Star 30 
 
 To Miss Caroline May 30 
 
 For An Album 32 
 
 Almost Home 33 
 
 The Rhone from Lyons to Valence 35 
 
 Lines on My Mother's Death 36 
 
 Sonnet — Impromptu 37 
 
 Fontainebleau 38 
 
 A Dream 39 
 
 To A Hawk's Wing Feather 41 
 
 Lines to Howard Crosby on the Death of His Father 43 
 
 In Memoriam 44 
 
 Opening of Freehold Cemetery 47 
 
 Lord's Day Evening 49 
 
 When the Day of Life is Dreary. '. 50 
 
 What Was the Charm ? 51 
 
 Teach Thou Me 59 
 
 Thy Sword and Shield 60 
 
 My Friend 61 
 
 A Song of Gratitude 62 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Live for God, 
 
 HYMNS WITH MUSIC. 
 
 63 
 
 A Prayer ■• 64 
 
 " Well Done" 6s 
 
 " Whom Having Not Seen, Ye Love " 66 
 
 Dedicatory Hymn 7 
 
 Even So, Come, Lord Jesus 68 
 
 Home Mission Poem 9 
 
 Bartimeus 
 
 The Holy Spirit 72 
 
 Hymn 73 
 
 The Trinity. ♦ 74 
 
 "Thou Hearest the Sound Thereof" 74 
 
 Twenty-Third Psalm « • " 7S 
 
 Elijah 7 ^ 
 
 Prayer to the Holy Spirit ' 7 • 
 
 The Temptation 7 J 
 
 I Cling to Thee 7b 
 
 Glory be to God Alone 
 
 To the Trinity • *° 
 
 Our Nation's God 
 
 By A Thousand Ways We Come * 
 
 God's Plan ^ 3 
 
 The Trinity ^ 
 
 Saviour and Sinner 
 
 _, 80 
 
 Security 
 
 Daily Trust 7 
 
 I Shall Not Want 
 
 Sleep. 9 
 
 9i 
 
 Softly the Daylight Fades 
 
 Father in Heaven • ■ yj 
 
 Well Done ' ' * 94 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 The immortal hymns arc- horn. While they may show the fruit of 
 discipline and culture in their rythmic structure and verbal form, and 
 while, as to relative properties of style and methods of effective arrange- 
 ment, they may be the product of antecedent study, yet in their inner 
 substance and spirit they ate inspirations. They are births out of emer- 
 gent occasions, heart struggles, profound spiritual experiences, heavenly 
 communion, visions of God! 
 
 We are sure some of the lyrics in this little cluster of songs, those 
 who love Jesus will keep on singing while time lasts. Their author was 
 a man of letters and of logic. But neither letters nor logic could make 
 room enough for his religious fervor, his deep spiritual insight, his winged 
 imagination. The profoundest depths of Christian experience he put in 
 melodious verse, and sang them with heart and lips. And the chaste 
 diction, so deft, so apposite, the choice of words, the calm, sweet maj- 
 esty of style, and the tenderness, the pathos, the reverent devoutness, 
 the humility and the trust of these precious lyrics, mark at once the man 
 of culture and the man of God. 
 
 In addition to the sacred verse of this singing heart, there are placed 
 in this little volume a goodly company of pieces that are the expression 
 of what might be called a lighter and more magnetic mood. These, too, 
 will be found exceeding "pleasant to the taste." They reveal a delicate 
 play of fancy, and yet here and there the stately tread of a Whittier. 
 "The Aspen" is as blithesome and winsome as "The Last Review" is 
 inspiring and full of the breath of victory. The author went to no wells 
 of song, shallow or deep, with "cracked pitcher." 
 
 HERRICK JOHNSON. 
 
POEMS and HYMNS 
 
PART I 
 
PART 1 
 
 WHERE DO THE FLOWERS GROW? 
 
 Tell me sweet maiden, I pray thee, 
 
 Where do the flowers grow, lowly or tall, 
 
 Fit for a wreath to array thee, 
 For thou art the sweetest of all. 
 
 Flowers, fair sir, grow wherever they will; 
 
 The tall ones on bushes are found, 
 Some in the meadow, and some on the hill — 
 
 The lowly ones grow on the ground. 
 
 Tell me dear maiden, in pity, 
 
 Where is a heart that will love and be true? 
 Throbs it in field or in city? 
 
 I'd give the wide world if I knew. 
 
 Hearts, gentle master, grow here and grow there; 
 Win them and then they'll be true. 
 I heard of one lately, I hardly know where — 
 I'd search for it if I were vou. 
 
MY MARY. 
 
 MY MARY. 
 
 My Mary she sat by the lonesome hearth, 
 
 'Twas late and the coals were dead; 
 And she listened to catch 
 The lift of the latch, 
 
 And she listened to hear my tread; 
 And she crossed the floor 
 As I shut the door, 
 
 And she took my hand and said: 
 " Father is gone, and mother is gone, 
 
 And the baby has left us, too; 
 And what have I in the empty world, 
 
 My darling, but only you?" 
 
 She had gathered her kerchief about her 
 head, 
 A shield from the chilly night; 
 And her face so fair 
 And her dark brown hair, 
 
 Were bound in its folds of white. 
 Like a pale face drest 
 For its long, long rest, 
 It smote my guilty sight. 
 
 For I knew she was dying for lack of love; 
 
 And I knew that her lips spoke true 
 When she said, " In all the empty world 
 What have I but only you?" 
 
[•HE ASPEN. 13 
 
 The folds of white and the dark brown hair 
 
 From her forehead I smoothed away; 
 For a breath like mine 
 On her lips' pure shrine 
 
 I did not dare to lay. 
 But I kissed her brow, 
 And I breathed a vow. 
 
 And I keep it to this day ; 
 I said, " There are angels that lead men's steps, 
 
 And an angel shall lead mine too. 
 And I'll cling to her side till she leads me to 
 heaven, 
 
 For, my darling, I'll cling to you." 
 
 THE ASPEN. 
 
 Within a deep and shady wood 
 
 Of oak and yew, 
 A low and grassy hillock stood. 
 
 Its sloping sides with flow 7 ers were drest 
 And from its breast 
 A solitary aspen grew. 
 
 On every side the frowning trees 
 Stood dark and still; but overhead 
 The blue and smiling heavens were spread 
 
 And everv breeze 
 
*4 THE ASPEN. 
 
 That posted thro' the open sky, 
 
 Stooped to the hill where the aspen grew 
 And kissed the tree as it hurried by; 
 
 And the evening dew, 
 And the shadow of every drifting cloud, 
 And the pattering rain, and the tempest loud, 
 And the sun's warm light, 
 And every ray of the silent night, 
 All came and greeted the lonely tree, 
 Till it trembled and danced with ecstasy. 
 
 The aspen danced; but all around 
 The dark and silent forest frowned. 
 And the grass upon the sloping hill, 
 And the very flowers lay cold and still. 
 And when it told in whispering tones 
 
 The bursting joy it could not hide, 
 
 The sullen woods alone replied 
 In melancholy moans. 
 And often in the silent night, 
 When the loving stars were shining bright, 
 It wished for friends in that distant throng, 
 And it beckoned and called as they rolled along; 
 But its voice was low, and they could not hear, 
 And the stars rolled on in their distant sphere. 
 
 At length, when drowsy winter crept 
 Over the earth, the aspen slept. 
 
1 111 ASP! N. 15 
 
 'Twas a painful sleep, for the lonely tree 
 
 Sighed wearily 
 
 As its branches bare 
 
 Were tossed and swayed 
 In the dusk and frozen air. 
 
 But it woke with the first warm breath of May; 
 
 And, lo: beneath its shelt'ring shade, 
 A fountain sprang; 
 
 And swelling o'er its mossy rim, 
 
 The flashing waters stole away 
 
 And, hid beneath the flowers, sang 
 
 Their happy hymn. 
 
 The charmed tree stood hushed and still, 
 And listened to the singing rill. 
 And bending o'er the fountain's side, 
 It watched the deep and constant tide 
 
 That bubbled from its bed of snow; 
 
 When suddenly, far, far below 
 Opened the blue and peaceful sky, 
 With white clouds floating slowly by 
 The silver sun, that lay at rest 
 Deep within its hollow breast; 
 And birds and painted butterflies 
 
 Were playing in his softened ray; 
 
 And flowers that fringed the fountain's 
 side, 
 
j 5 THE ASPEN. 
 
 And bent their modest heads to hide 
 From the staring day, 
 Looked out from its breast with laughing eyes. 
 
 And when the sun 
 
 Had slowly faded from the west, 
 And the stars came, one by one, 
 
 Twinkling thro' the dewy air, 
 The tree still watched the fountain's breast, 
 
 And the stars were there. 
 
 Then, one by one, and timidly, 
 The happy leaves began to sing; 
 
 And every trembling leaf could see 
 Its image trembling in the spring. 
 
 Then a bolder dance they tried; 
 
 They waved, and leaped, and whirled, and tost 
 Till every trembling leaf was lost 
 
 In brisk and dazzling play; 
 
 Still the mimic leaves replied, 
 
 In dance as merrily as they. 
 
 Thus evermore by night and day, 
 The fountain and the happy tree 
 
 Together sang, 
 
 Till the very forest rang 
 With their melody. 
 
\\ \i BUM. 17 
 
 For, on and on, by (lay and night, 
 The waters bubbled clear and bright 
 
 From their hollow bed of snow; 
 
 And the aspen watched their ceaseless low, 
 And saw its green leaves frolicking 
 
 In the crystal depth below. 
 And to its sight 
 
 Its own green leaves were fairer far 
 When mirrored by the friendly spring, 
 And the bright sun shone with kinder light, 
 And every star looked loveliest, 
 When glowing in its peaceful breast; 
 And the spreading heavens were not so fair 
 As the sweet blue heaven that slumbered 
 there. 
 
 FOR AN ALBUM. 
 
 Had I a pen whose point of light 
 Could reach thine inmost soul, and write 
 One word to stand eternally, 
 What should that sacred record be ? 
 
 'Twere vain to ask: my feeble art 
 Can make no record on thy heart. 
 May God that deathless page prepare, 
 And write the name of Jesus there. 
 
x g AN ACROSTIC. 
 
 AN ACROSTIC. 
 
 (Rev Howard Crosby, D. D.) 
 
 How should a man be made — 
 
 Of what choice parts compounded ? 
 
 With skill of schools how well arrayed, 
 
 And with what graces rounded? 
 
 Reveal some princely nature, strong and just, 
 
 Divinely ripened, for the poor to trust. 
 
 Courage, that fears not man nor devil; 
 
 Revolts at all enthroned evil; 
 
 Outright resolve, that won't be routed; 
 
 Sincerity that can't be doubted. 
 
 Back all this strength with love divine and 
 
 human, 
 Yet keep your Great Heart tender as a woman. 
 
 PATRIOTIC. 
 
 When Freedom of old sought her children, she traced 
 
 them, 
 
 By footprints of blood to their caves in the rock; 
 
 Till God found them a home where the foe could not 
 
 waste them, 
 
 And through the cleft sea led her sons like a flock. 
 
 She called them from vinelands and slopes of the heather, 
 
p \ mil 1 1 re. 19 
 
 From England's white cliffs, and from Holland's low 
 plains ; 
 Sec where she beckons them-! see how they gather! 
 
 One name on their foreheads, one pulse in their veins. 
 
 God gave us no islands with waves to divide them; 
 
 \ patches of green amid deserts of sand; 
 \ bleak barren uplands, with snow-fields to hide 
 them ; 
 
 God made us a nation, and gave us a land. 
 Her mountains are storehouses bursting with treasure; 
 
 Her prairies are seas and her harvests their spray; 
 The scope of a continent stands for her measure; 
 
 All lands are her neighbors, all oceans her way. 
 
 We've a league with the seas; we've a league with the 
 mountains; 
 
 The stars in their courses our allies shall be! 
 Till our loud-plunging floods shall turn back to their 
 fountains, 
 
 They thunder forever: " This land shall be free!" 
 'Tis writ in its soil, in the loops of the river, 
 
 The trend of the mountains, the line of the sea; 
 And trenches and earthworks have graved it forever, 
 
 In blood is it written, "This land shall be free." 
 
 Repeat it ye people, with shouts and hosannas; 
 With trumpet and organ-peal sound it on high 
 
20 IMPROMPTU FOR AN ALBUM. 
 
 Ring it out, ye keen bells, and ye restless gay banners, 
 Like tripping tongues tell it to all the wide sky' 
 
 Now, proud like a mother her sons all around her. 
 Fair Freedom sits down, in the land she has won ; 
 
 With a garland of stars her glad children have crowned 
 her, 
 Our smooth sloping hills are her emerald throne. 
 
 As she bends her fond head o'er the heroes whose 
 ashes 
 
 Are slumbering in glory beneath her green sod, 
 The crown on her brow like a beacon-light flashes, 
 
 To guide the far nations to her and to God! 
 
 IMPROMPTU— FOR AN ALBUM. 
 
 Most writers in albums their kindness display 
 By invoking all bliss on the fair lady's head. 
 
 For heaven's most bountiful blessings they pray, 
 And a husband to boot, if she chooses to wed. 
 
 But my thoughts are just now on my own happy 
 life. 
 
 Will you say I am selfish? Perhaps it is true. 
 But my wish is just this: when I get me a wife, 
 
 May I have the good fortune to get one like you 
 
rHE LAST REVIEW. _M 
 
 rHE last ki;\ m;\\ 
 
 ( Washington, i - 
 
 Their banners arc shreds, but their weapons are bright; 
 
 And true is the tread of their travel-stained feet. 
 Like a torrent that rests from its plunges of might, 
 
 Flows on the broad tide through the murmuring street. 
 
 Long ranks upon ranks, still they come and they come. 
 
 1 dream! 'Tis a vision of armies goes by! 
 Faint and far sounds the clangor of trumpet and drum; 
 
 Faint and far sounds their tread, though the vision is 
 nigh. 
 
 With their steadfast bronze faces they're marching right 
 on ; 
 
 With their steadfast grave eyes they are looking afar. 
 Each head wears a glory, as kings wear a crown — 
 
 Every point of a bayonet gleams with a star. 
 
 Like the smoke of a sacrifice ruddy with flames, 
 
 A cloud floats above them through all their long way. 
 
 It flashes and gleams with the deathless great names 
 Of the fields they have won in the terrible fray. 
 
 Their glory enfolds them. They pass from my sight. 
 
 But a pillar of flame marks the way they have gone. 
 It lessens; 'tis lost; but I know by the light 
 
 On the far distant sky, they are marching right on. 
 
FIFTY YEARS AGO. 
 
 The seas shall not stop them. The mountains flow down. 
 
 Far islands await them, and uttermost coasts; 
 For the captain that leads them is crowned with a crown, 
 
 And the name on his thigh is Jehovah of Hosts. 
 
 They have left the torn ensigns they brought from the 
 field. 
 
 Bright gleams his red cross on their banner of snow. 
 His name is emblazoned on helmet and shield, 
 
 And the shout of his triumph they raise as they go. 
 
 There's a sound of their going borne far on the air, 
 The solid earth throbs with the pulse of their tread. 
 
 The lowly have caught it with blessing and prayer— 
 The tyrants have caught it with wonder and dread. 
 
 To your ranks all ye nations! Great Captain, lead on! 
 
 Lo, chains are but tow. at the touch of thy sword! 
 They answer; they rally; they fight; they have won! 
 
 For the cause of the poor is the cause of the Lord. 
 
 FIFTY YEARS AGO. 
 
 To my dear Friend Rev. Dr. E. P. Rogers, on his Jist birthday, 
 Dec. iS, i8b8. 
 
 In tropic isles, which evermore are teeming 
 
 With the bright products of the changeless year, 
 
 On the same bough midst burnished foliage gleaming, 
 The golden fruit and snowy buds appear. 
 
FIF l \ Yl ARS \ 2} 
 
 So love, which years have ripened, but not wasted, 
 
 Ami youth, just tinged with light of days to come, 
 Ami childhood, wondering over life untasted, 
 
 Their wealth unite to make a Christian home. 
 
 Hut burning day glows through those tropic bowers; 
 
 And evening wets them with her tears of dew. 
 The ripe fruit falls, and still the opening flowers 
 
 Through the long year the endless round renew. 
 
 W "here is the love that doted o'er our slumbers 
 When baby ringlets on our pillows lay? 
 
 Where are the voices, which in holy numbers, 
 First taught our lisping childhood how to pray? 
 
 (fathered like fruit; gathered and safe before us; 
 
 Far from the touch of change and mortal woe—' 
 More safe in God, than in the love they bore us 
 
 When they were with us fifty years ago. 
 
 Still joy lives on, our ripening lives adorning 
 
 With buds that brighten, though our bloom depart. 
 
 Love wreathes her brow with flowers in hope's fond 
 morning; 
 Richer at noon she wears them round her heart. 
 
 So love enfolds us, till some breath of even 
 Kisses the laden bough and lays us low. 
 
 Then children's children pointing up to heaven, 
 Bless those who loved them fifty years ago. 
 
24 TO E 
 
 TO E 
 
 September, 1S51. 
 
 I've given my heart to thee, love, 
 
 Then give thy heart to me: 
 And I'll lodge the treasure safely 
 
 Where my heart used to be. 
 Deep, deep within my bosom 
 
 It shall beat for me alone; 
 And as I feel it beating there, 
 
 I'll think it is my own. 
 
 'Twill beat with sweeter thoughts than mine, 
 
 'Twill beat with brighter joy, 
 And faithful love, which time nor care 
 
 Nor death can e'er destroy. 
 But it beats within my bosom, 
 
 And it beats for me alone; 
 And as I feel it beating there, 
 
 I'll think it is my own. 
 
 If sorrow like a cloud, love, 
 
 Shall settle on my head ; 
 And all my strength be wasted, 
 
 And all my hopes lie dead; 
 Then strong and high shall beat the heart 
 
 That beats for me alone, 
 And as I feel it beating 
 
 I'll think it is my own. 
 
for riu: FIRST PAGE "1 W \l IH'M. 
 
 If the wricked world should tempt me 
 
 With its by-paths smooth and fair, 
 And my foolish feet be ready 
 
 To be taken in the snare; 
 Then true and pure shall beat the heart 
 
 That beats for me alone, 
 And as I feel its holy throb, 
 
 I'll think it is my own. 
 
 Then give thy heart to me, love, 
 
 For I've given mine to thee; 
 And let it bring me joy and hope, 
 
 And strength and piety: 
 For while I feel its steadfast pulse 
 
 That beats for me alone, 
 I shall know it is an angel's, 
 
 But shall heed it for my own. 
 
 FOR THE FIRST PAGE OF AN ALBUM. 
 
 Over these tinted album leaves, • 
 Ruddy and white, 
 
 Fain would I pour a golden glow 
 Like morning light, 
 Or like those rays which evening weaves 
 
 Into her glittering bow. 
 And on thy fair young brow I'd shed 
 
26 AD ASTRA. 
 
 The blessed beam, 
 A crown of glory for thy head. 
 
 And on that stream 
 Of swift and changeful maiden thought, 
 
 That sings and dances through thy breast, 
 With hopes like fairy barges fraught, 
 
 The heavenly radiance should rest. 
 I know the spell; no chemist's art, 
 
 No wizard with his magic rod, 
 
 Can charm that glory from the skies. 
 The vision waits for meeker eyes; 
 Write on the page, and on thy heart, 
 
 " Sacred to God." 
 
 AD ASTRA. 
 
 There are, who wonder whether, in the flight 
 Which gracious beings make from star to star, 
 They pause to mark our dim and distant earth, 
 And speak with pity of the feeble folk 
 Who dream their empty dreams of after life, 
 Build temples for a host of warring creeds, 
 And die; and with their corporal substance lose 
 All individual thought and memory. 
 
 But what sad echo from that height of stars 
 Started this dream of heaven's contempt of man? 
 I've stood at midnight when the world was still; 
 
ID ASTRA. 2 7 
 
 Nor cricket's chirp nor rustling breath of trees 
 
 Marred the vast stillness of the steadfast stars. 
 
 Then with my soul I've swept those silent depths, 
 
 That deeper grew, still, as I soared within them. 
 
 The glittering points strewn on the face of heaven 
 
 Rounded to worlds immense, receding far 
 
 In mighty ponderous flight through separate spheres, 
 
 Each wide enough to gird a universe. 
 
 Yet, as one wind breathes o'er the clustering heads 
 
 Of the white rye upon a harvest field, 
 
 So my strong soul, nor timid nor elate, 
 
 Breathed through those hosts of worlds, and filled 
 
 the voids 
 Betwixt the sundered orbs with human thought, 
 Harmonious as praise. 
 
 Then had I seen, 
 Though far as Sirius, a shining train 
 Of seraphs errant on the work of God, 
 I would have hailed them with a brother's speech — 
 I hail them now — though not with sigh or voice; 
 Spirit to spirit speaks: " Hail, sons of God! 
 Who, mightier than we, can serve Him more, 
 Yet are no more His sons." 
 
 Who hears their sighs 
 Of taunting pity sifting through the air? 
 Who hears them tell us that our dying flesh 
 Measures our greatness and predicts our end? 
 Or that, because our bodies soon must fail, 
 
2 8 AD ASTRA. 
 
 Our separate souls, distinct and keen as theirs, 
 
 Must lose their individual hold of thought 
 
 And merge in undistinguishable being? 
 
 When dropped that dismal gospel from the sky? 
 
 Then who, the words unheard, shall claim the power 
 
 To read them on the far unlettered scroll 
 
 Of seraph's heart; yet, while he reads, confess 
 
 That to the nature which he scans so well 
 
 He stands compared as do the beasts to men ? 
 
 The beast that guesses what a man can think 
 
 Is beast no more, but fellow of the man. 
 
 And when a human seer takes his flight 
 
 To farthest heaven, only to bring back 
 
 Heaven's hypothetic scorn of human beasts, 
 
 I wonder much at that strange, bestial flight — 
 
 That mighty argument for impotence. 
 
 Yet who shall tell ? May not the guess be true, 
 Since knowledge of eternal things to man 
 Is unrevealed, and at the best but breathes 
 Through things created; may not words like these 
 Oft fall from seraph lips? Alas who knows? 
 1 know — " I know that my Redeemer lives." 
 I ask no doubtful whisper from the stars. 
 The round green earth that hangs amidst their light, 
 And gathers influence from all the sky, 
 To warm and feed my weak and wasting frame, 
 Has drunk a promise from the upper heaven, 
 And keeps it for her sons. Not from her fields 
 
ID ASTRA. 29 
 
 Vivid with verdure, nor from stately lulls 
 
 Nfor whispering streams, she speaks. that treasured 
 
 word. 
 But when men die, and to her friendly breast 
 
 She takes their dust, then through the opened grave 
 Steals forth the deathless cadence of that song 
 Which Christ the victor sang among the dead: 
 11 I am the resurrection and the life; 
 He that believes in me shall never die." 
 
 So in the midnight when the world is still, 
 And my rapt soul sweeps through the teeming stars 
 Straight to God's throne, I will not ask nor brook 
 Pity nor scorn, though from a seraph's lips. 
 My conscious spirit shall converse with God, 
 My dying flesh draw comfort from its tomb, 
 And answering echoes from the earth and sky 
 Meet in the air where my dear Lord shall come. 
 Hark! how the heavens grow silvery with song; 
 The dark sky kindles into bloom of light. 
 It is God's host. See where the Prince of Life 
 Rears his near throne amid their glittering ranks. 
 He speaks the word; and the dark rolling earth 
 Bursts into radiant life. In ranks as bright 
 As heaven itself has poured through gates of pearl, 
 Break from their tombs the hidden sons of God. 
 Joy answers joy. The nearing anthems blend; 
 Seraphs and men meet at the throne of Christ; 
 And death is swallowed up in victory. 
 
3° 
 
 THAT DISTANT STAR. 
 
 THAT DISTANT STAR. 
 
 That distant star, 
 That glows and sparkles all the livelong night, 
 
 And throws its trembling beams so far 
 On mortal sight; 
 
 How can it guess 
 How many upturned eyes delighted gaze 
 
 Upon its loveliness, and bless 
 The pure bright rays? 
 
 A planet bright 
 Art thou, my dearest, to my raptured eyes. 
 
 How shall I woo the approachless light 
 Set in the skies? 
 
 Too far removed 
 From its blest seat, unheeded I complain, 
 
 And learn that when a star is loved, 
 'Tis loved in vain. 
 
 TO MISS CAROLINE MAY. 
 
 On Her Birthday, 1869. 
 
 I've heard a story of the days gone by, 
 
 Of days, dear friend, which you cannot remember, 
 
 How once the English year went quite awry, 
 
 And lovely May was born amid the cold December. 
 
rO MISS l PROLINE MAN. 31 
 
 Not in the wintry sky nor sullen air, 
 
 Nor o'er the fields where bitter blasts were blowing, 
 But in one home appeared the vision fair. 
 
 Where Christmas holly shone, and Christmas fires were 
 glowing. 
 
 'Twas but a gleam — a breath — an infant life. 
 
 So Spring wakes ever in this world of sadness, 
 But grows apace amid the wintry strife, 
 
 And wins the day at last, and fills the world with 
 gladness. 
 
 So through its little world this young life spread. 
 
 Shot through with light, with bird-like voices ringing, 
 
 A fragrant presence as of odors shed 
 
 On April winds at eve, where violets are springing. 
 
 What binds the odors to the fitful air? 
 
 What schools the giddy birds in strains of heaven? 
 What stores in one true soul that power so rare, 
 
 Of healing with its balm the hearts which grief has riven ? 
 
 Hail, love divine! which tints each common thing 
 
 With some bright ray from heaven's wide open portal; 
 
 Which rolls the senseless earth through zones of spring, 
 And wakes in fields and woods a gleam of life immortal. 
 
 But woods nor fields could drink that brighter flood, 
 Which fell of old when wintry night was clinging 
 
32 FOR AN ALBUM. 
 
 To the cold ground whereon the angel stood; 
 
 And bird and leaf were still, but seraphim were singing. 
 
 And still the earth that yearly rolls along 
 
 Its wintry track, sweeps through that flood of glory, 
 And eyes attentive see the myriad throng, 
 
 And falls on ears attuned, .the sweet angelic story. 
 
 Oh, happy babe! to whose astonished ears 
 
 The Christmas air with angel songs is loaded, 
 
 That drinks its fill of heaven, before it hears 
 
 The sobs of mortal hearts, by mortal sorrow goaded. 
 
 Oh, happy life! that kindles in the glow, 
 Catching the skill to souls angelic given, 
 
 To gild the tears of sorrow while they flow; 
 
 To cheer the sad with love, and light the loved to 
 heaven. 
 
 FOR AN ALBUM. 
 
 If I should praise 
 The hues of health upon thy features blending, 
 And all the bright and winning charms 
 On youth attending; 
 
 The flattering verse 
 Should stand ere long upon its yellow page, 
 
\l M< >S i IIOMI . 
 
 Outlasting charms decayed and l< 
 
 In wrinkled age; 
 
 But let me write 
 
 A fairer record that shall ne'er grow old; 
 And let God write it in 11 is book, 
 In lines of gold : 
 
 "Washed in Christ's blood, 
 She steadfast keeps the holy path He trod, 
 And counts it for her crown to be 
 A child of God." 
 
 33 
 
 ALMOST HOME. 
 amship Canada, between Halifax and Boston, October, 1S60. 
 
 Twelve weary days our laboring prow 
 
 Has borne the buffets of the gale. 
 But all the winds are sleeping now; 
 On through the silent sea we plow, 
 
 While darkness wraps us like a veil. 
 Haste, sluggish ship! Haste, lingering day! 
 
 When will the tedious night be o'er? 
 To-morrow in the land-locked bay 
 
 Our keel shall kiss our native shore. 
 To-morrow in my own dear home 
 
 I see my precious ones again; 
 
 
34 
 
 ALMOST HOME. 
 
 The bursting hearts around me come 
 
 And tears of joy are shed like rain. 
 Ah! tears of joy? what other tears 
 
 May pour along my blanched cheek ? 
 Hope dreams of home. But trooping fears 
 
 Warn me of ills I dare not speak. 
 In vain I strain my eager sight 
 
 That hidden future to descry ; 
 Like yonder coast enwrapped in night 
 That shapeless shore eludes my eye. 
 God of the sea and of the land, 
 
 Darkness to thee is like the day, 
 I trust my darlings to Thy hand, 
 
 I trust to Thee my homeward way. 
 Go with me still; Thy love alone 
 
 Has all these priceless gifts conferred, 
 Go with me still; and ills unknown 
 
 Shall turn to blessings at Thy word. 
 Ah, when life's boisterous voyage shall end, 
 Calm Thou that night, so dread, so dark, 
 Make brightening skies before me bend, 
 
 And moor in heaven my long-tossed bark. 
 No darkness veils that home of light, 
 
 Nor fears, like specters, keep the way. 
 With open gate and throngs in white, 
 It gleams across the frowning night; 
 
 It turns the darkness into day. 
 It paves with gold the placid sea; 
 
THE RHONE FROM LYONS ["0 VALENCE. 35 
 
 It makes a path from them to me; 
 
 With outstretched arms they haste to meet me, 
 
 With well-known tones they bend to greet me. 
 
 All hail my kindred ! hail my home! 
 
 Now backward wheel your guiding flight, 
 My prow shall cleave the path of light. 
 
 Before it breaks the golden foam: 
 The far gates grow upon my sight. 
 
 Haste, bounding bark! The day dawns fast, 
 
 The last bright league shall soon be past, 
 
 Then sleep ye winds forevermore, 
 
 Farewell, rough sea! Hail, shining shore! 
 
 THE RHONE FROM LYONS TO VALENCE. 
 July, i860. 
 
 Thou restless river, in thy changeful face 
 Sleeps no fair vision of the vine-clad hill. 
 Thy busy waters ply the useful mill; 
 But miller's maid ne'er bent with girlish grace 
 And asked thy vacant wave her charms to trace. 
 Ye turbid waters! ye have drunk your fill 
 Of matchless splendors. Did ye not distill 
 From spotless snows near God's own dwelling-place? 
 Have ye not glittered on the rock's high head, 
 And leaped in rainbows down the long cascade? 
 Thy face of pearl, dull stream hath sealed up 
 Those opal splendors, safe from earthly taint. 
 
36 LINES ON MY MOTHER'S DEATH. 
 
 So guard thy holy joys, contented saint, 
 
 And bear midst pitying men, thine own full cup. 
 
 LINES ON MY MOTHER'S DEATH. 
 1869. 
 
 Now whilst Thy hand is on me, oh, my God, 
 
 Keep common thoughts apart; 
 Let the full meaning of Thy heavy rod 
 
 Sink in my inmost heart. 
 
 I will not give my eyes to dainty sights, 
 
 Nor lips to dainty food; 
 Disdain, thou heaven-taught soul, these near 
 
 delights, 
 And make thy God thy good. 
 
 Into Thy secret place, oh God, I come 
 
 Awe-struck, but not afraid; 
 My straying soul shall find itself at home 
 Within that solemn shade. 
 
 No worldly glare nor gloom assails my eyes 
 
 In that serene abode; 
 The far-off noise of worldly tumult dies; 
 
 I hide myself in God. 
 
 Oh Jesus, Saviour, who, from all our gloom 
 Of mortal sin and strife, 
 
 
SONNET — IMPROMF I ' . 37 
 
 Didst pierce a doorway through the rocky tomb 
 Straight into endless life; 
 
 Hold Thou my hand; I tread that rugged floor 
 
 With these weak feet of clay: 
 My dead I follow, where they walk before 
 
 Into eternal day. 
 
 Set angel guards behind me. Roll the stone 
 
 To shut my spirit in ; 
 Till I walk forth new-made, and not alone, 
 
 Xor lose what I have seen. 
 
 The luster of Thy risen presence, Lord, 
 
 Shall be my daily light; 
 The daily hope of Thy approving word 
 
 Shall guide my steps like sight. 
 
 Grant me the comforts of a soul forgiven, 
 
 And wisdom, Lord, to see 
 How mortal man lives on the verge of heaven 
 
 By living unto Thee. 
 
 SONNET— IMPROMPTU. 
 
 On visiting the grave 0/ Gray, Stoke Pogis, June 22, iSbo. 
 
 Do those great souls that thronged the mighty past 
 Still tread unseen the paths they trod before? 
 Where Godlike voices woke the world of yore, 
 
 Are deathless echoes borne on every blast? 
 
38 FONTAINEBLEAU. 
 
 Ye spreading yews, from out your bosoms vast 
 
 Unearthly whispers on my spirit pour. 
 
 I stand beneath your shade, ye turrets hoar; 
 But deeper shadows on my soul are cast. 
 Nor trees, nor grassy mounds, nor ivied tower 
 
 Could wake my pulses with this vital thrill. 
 The conscious scene enshrines that soul of power; 
 
 The heaven-lit presence lingers in it still. 
 With breathless lips I sit, and bended head, 
 And feel my spirit quickened by the living dead. 
 
 FONTAINEBLEAU. 
 
 I've seen the halls where kings and queens have walked. 
 The gilded beds where royalty has lain 
 With aching heads, that wooed sweet sleep in vain; 
 
 The council rooms where emperors have talked, 
 
 Where keen eyed plotters have been keenly balked. 
 I've seen the grassy path the deer have ta'en 
 Through leafy arches toward the glassy plain, 
 
 Whose friendly waves the deep-mouthed pack have mocked. 
 Gone is the brilliant rout, the deer, the hound. 
 
 The wakeful brain oppressed with mighty thought, 
 The gentle breast with keenest wrongs distraught, 
 
 In sculptured tombs their last long sleep have found. 
 Dead splendors! Silence shrouds you like a pall, 
 My homely fireside far outshines you all. 
 
A DREAM. yj 
 
 A DREAM. 
 
 Once in my life I had a dream 
 
 That made my heart with rapture thrill; 
 Too soon it lied; but in my heart 
 The rapture lingers still. 
 
 often; on my waking hours. 
 The memory of that vision bright 
 Has flashed, like sunshine on a wave, 
 With momentary light. 
 
 But yesternight I sweetly slept, 
 
 And dreamt the whole bright vision o'er, 
 And even in my sleep I knew 
 
 I'd dreamt it all before. 
 
 The same sweet face came back again, 
 The same soft hand in mine was laid, 
 
 And onward through the self same path 
 With lingering feet we strayed. 
 
 And all along our path I saw 
 
 The same bright flowers I'd seen before; 
 With lingering feet we strayed and bent 
 
 To gather them once more. 
 
 And soon with loaded hands we paused 
 
 Beside an old and mossy stone, 
 A mossy stone that 'mid the trees 
 
 Stood altar-like, alone. 
 
 
40 A DREAM. 
 
 Above its head the aged elms 
 
 Their high and pointed arches reared. 
 
 And far along the broad green aisle, 
 Their lessening trunks appeared. 
 
 And all along the grassy aisle, 
 And on the old and mossy stone, 
 
 And on our mingled flowers, the sun 
 In setting splendor shone. 
 
 It shone upon the maiden's cheek, 
 
 It tinged with gold her brow of snow, 
 
 And on her bright and clustering hair 
 I saw the kindling glow. 
 
 And when I sought the loveliest flowers, 
 And when, with beating heart, I bore 
 
 A garland to her brow, I knew 
 I'd dreamt it all before. 
 
 With glowing cheeks she turned away, 
 With ready skill a wreath she made, 
 
 And on my head, with faltering hand, 
 The blushing flowers she laid. 
 
 I marked with joy her glowing cheek, 
 I saw her eyes with teardrops fill; 
 
 And in my sleep I never knew, 
 That I was dreaming still. 
 
rO A HAWK S WING FEATHER. J I 
 
 I thought my early hope was gained, 
 My precious hope that long had slept, 
 
 And in my new found ecstasy, 
 1 bent my head and wept. 
 
 Again the vision lied, but now 
 
 The lovely face and form remain, 
 And oft my heart shall start and thrill 
 
 To see that face again. 
 
 But ah ! that look of trusting love, 
 That beaming look in vain I seek; 
 
 The vision fled, and only left 
 The tears upon my cheek. 
 
 TO A HAWK'S WING-FEATHER. 
 
 That tireless wing! Where floats it now 
 That lost thee on the mountain's brow? 
 The piercing eye and cruel beak ! 
 Where do they seek 
 Their hapless prey the whispering pines among, 
 Whilst thou like autumn leaf to autumn leaves 
 art flung ? 
 Leave to them the dizzy air. 
 
 And the peaks where lightnings play, 
 Set thy blade of mottled grey 
 In a maiden's clustering hair. 
 
42 TO A HAWK S WING FEATHER. 
 
 Mind her of all things pure and high, — 
 Sunlit cliff and boundless sky, 
 Fleecy clouds that veil the heaven, 
 Rosy tints of morn and even. 
 
 Bring her visions all the day 
 Of the dim and dizzy steep, 
 Where the threads of water leap, 
 
 Wreathed in folds of rainbow spray. 
 Woodland echoes faint but clear 
 Whisper in her charmed ear, 
 Chirp of bird, and hum of bees. 
 And the low murmur of the swaying trees. 
 
 But graft thee for thy highest flight, 
 In her fancy's wing of light; 
 
 For feathered pinion never knew 
 
 Half the height that fancy scales. 
 
 Swift she cleaves the vault of blue; 
 
 Cliffs and clouds beneath her lie 
 
 Level with the lowest vales; 
 
 While with easy flight she sails 
 
 Through the bright islands of the sky, 
 
 And scans creation to its utmost shores; 
 
 Nor checks her daring flight, nor veils her eye 
 
 Till at God's throne she wonders and adores. 
 Thither let hills and woods and birds of every 
 
 wing 
 And all created souls their endless homage bring. 
 
LINES rO H' >w \KI> < ROSBY. 43 
 
 LINES TO HOWARD CROSBY ON THE 
 DEATH OF HIS 1 \ I HER. 
 
 My Father, oh, my Father: could I see 
 
 The flaming chariot bear thee to the skies, 
 
 I'd lift thy fallen mantle where it lies, 
 And on my lonely way go thankfully. 
 But oh! the marble brow, the lips of clay, 
 
 The moveless slumber of the reverend head, 
 
 The form all shrouded for its narrow bed, 
 The grave's long darkness, and the swift decay! 
 Is this the triumph of that life of prayer? 
 
 Was it for this he wore that sacred name? 
 Nay wait, sad heart; soon shall the glowing air 
 
 Be filled, but not with chariots of flame; 
 For with ten thousand saints the Lord himself shall 
 
 come, 
 And bear with everlasting joy His people home. 
 
44 IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 St. Louis, November 26th, 1S77. 
 
 I. 
 
 THE DIRGE. 
 
 Mabel, Ma Belle, my beautiful, 
 
 My dream of loveliness! 
 
 I have awoke, my dream is fled; 
 
 Thy lovely face is with the dead. 
 Oh, sunlit home 
 How changed and dull! 
 
 I roam about the empty place 
 
 Listening for steps that never come. 
 No tripping form, no cry of glee, 
 No load of love upon my knee, 
 No red round cheek against my own, 
 No quick embrace around me thrown. 
 The very air is still and dead, 
 But in my heart this dirge is said: 
 " Lost! lost and gone! 
 I am alone. " 
 
 II. 
 
 THE VISION. 
 
 Thus with my head upon my breast, 
 My empty hands together prest, 
 My moaning heart was moaning on — 
 "Alone, alone!" 
 
IN MEM0R1 \M 
 
 When on my brow a touch was laid, 
 I raised my head, 
 
 And lo, a form before me sto< d 
 
 In shining rob^s, but marked with blood. 
 With lifted hand 
 
 M Look up," he said, and while he spoke 
 
 As from the heavens, a glory broke. 
 
 Through parted roof and parted sky, 
 
 I saw the countless host on high 
 In worship stand. 
 44 Show me," I cried, "my darling there," 
 
 And strained my eager eyes to see. 
 
 Too far! too far! it could not be. 
 I fell and clasped his knees in prayer, 
 "One look," I cried; and while I sent 
 
 My gaze to heaven, 
 Over my upturned face He bent 
 
 And to my soul the look was given — 
 Not from among that far off host ; 
 Not from the child I loved and lost; 
 'Twas from my Saviour's face of love, 
 Around whose head, bent gently down. 
 The open glory from above, 
 Shone like the splendor of a crown. 
 
 45 
 
46 IN MEM0R1AM. 
 
 III. 
 
 THE CONSOLATION. 
 
 "Trust me," he said, "for life and death 
 
 Obey my word. 
 
 I am their Lord. 
 I breathed the breath 
 That kindled in your earthly home 
 That flitting bloom 
 Which looked to your untutored eyes 
 Like the safe bloom of Paradise. 
 Dost thou not know 
 The fairest life that wakes below 
 Wakes but to die? 
 
 When bright with heavenly love I came 
 
 To be a babe in Bethlehem, 
 Though angel choirs that filled the sky 
 My heralds were, 
 I found a cross and sepulchre' — 
 But lo, I live forevermore! 
 
 And peace I have for them that weep; 
 
 And life I have for them that sleep; 
 For one by one through that same door 
 My feet have passed, 
 I bring my own to heaven at last. 
 Trust Me and wait. 
 Dread not the dark and narrow °:ate, 
 
OP] NING OF l Rl l M"l I) i 1 Ml II RY. 47 
 
 ^ut bend thy earnest gaze on me, 
 And in me see 
 
 The image that thy child shall wear 
 When thou shall meet her there." 
 
 IV. 
 THE SONG. 
 
 Mabel, Ma Belle, my beautiful, 
 
 My dream of loveliness! 
 
 I wake at last, my dreams are fled — 
 
 My dream of earth-born pride and peace. 
 My dream of loneliness and dread. 
 
 Christ's beauty is thy beauty now. 
 He found thee sick, and made the whole,. 
 
 He set a crown upon thy brow ; 
 And in thy face has made to shine 
 
 The glory of His heavenly throne.. 
 
 Mabel, my own, 
 My Lord's and mine, 
 
 My beautiful! bloom on! 
 
 OPENING OF FREEHOLD CEMETERY. 
 
 One little grave in the broad open field! 
 No tree stands near it, and no grass nor flower 
 Waves o'er the new-turned mould. As yet no stone 
 Rises above it; and the wintry rain 
 
48 OPENING OF FREEHOLD CEMETERY. 
 
 Wears many a channel down its lowly sides. 
 
 How could they leave thee, little one, alone? 
 
 Has love forgot thee in thy dreary grave? 
 
 Nay, the same love that watched thy closing eyes 
 
 And laid thee sleeping in thy little bed, 
 
 Waits but a while till it grows weary too, 
 
 And seeks its pillow at thy very side. 
 
 Not long a lonely sleeper shalt thou be 
 
 Amid that open field.. The swelling mounds 
 
 Mantled with grass and flowers shall soon surround 
 
 thee, 
 And stately trees shall join their solemn shade 
 Above the clustering marbles. Giant trees, 
 Unplanted now, shall rear their heads at length, 
 And still the unchecked throng shall crowd about 
 
 thee, 
 And stones, ungraven now, moss-grown and worn, 
 Shall hide their record from the curious eye; 
 And swelling mounds, long trodden on, shall sink 
 To the green level of the thick grown sod; 
 But never, never, shall the fresh-turned earth 
 And the new stone be wanting. 
 
 While I look 
 The winter's day ends with a lifting cloud. 
 The sinking sun gilds with his level ray 
 The one bare mound amid the withered grass. 
 So may a holy light forever lie, 
 With heavenly promise on the gathering graves. 
 
LORD S DAY EVENING. 49 
 
 There sainted age shall sweetly sink I 
 
 There youth, from earthly visions meekly turning, 
 
 Shall lay its placid brow, gilded with heaven; 
 
 There earnest manhood, summoned from the strife, 
 
 Shall put aside its armor and await the prize, 
 
 Tec promised crown. How safely shall they sleep, 
 
 That sleep, dear babe, like thee. Of such as thee, 
 
 The King hath said, He makes His kingdom up. 
 
 So where this mortal throng must meet, " He takes 
 
 A little child and sets him in the midst." 
 
 Then when His trump shall sound, and living forms 
 
 Shall crowd that field of graves, keep thou thy place! 
 
 Like little children may they hear His call, 
 
 As mounting through the air their Lord to meet, 
 
 Straight to his arms," A little child shall lead them." 
 
 LORD'S DAY EVENING. 
 
 (Unfinished.) 
 
 The Sabbath sun has set; and the young moon 
 Stares white and cold from the clear winter's sky 
 The leafless tree before my window rears 
 Its taper branches in the moveless air. 
 No sound of wind or bird or bleating flock 
 Or wakeful cricket breaks the utter calm. 
 But, hark ! from yonder distant cottage, where 
 4 
 
50 WHEN THE DAY OF LIFE IS DREARY. 
 
 The twinkling light shows like a yellow star, 
 The mellow strain of evening worshippers 
 Now faintly swells, now dies upon the ear. 
 My duties done, my weary mind throws off 
 Its load of thought, and like my eye that roves 
 In happy freedom o'er the moonlit scene, 
 Wanders at will ; yet like that solemn strain 
 That swells again upon my willing ear, 
 The memory of sacred themes breathes o'er me 
 Waking the loose chords with their melody. 
 I would not give this hour with its thought 
 Of duty done and hope of holy fruit, 
 For all the splendid spoil the world could yield. 
 I have been Christ's ambassador to-day. 
 
 WHEN THE DAY OF LIFE IS DREARY. 
 
 When the day of life is dreary 
 
 And when gloom thy course enshrouds, 
 When thy steps are faint and weary 
 
 And thy spirit dark with clouds, 
 Steadfast still in thy well doing 
 
 Let thy soul torget the past, 
 Steadfast still the right pursuing, 
 
 Doubt not, joy shall come at last! 
 
WHAT W IS THE CHARM ? 5 I 
 
 Striving still, and onward pressing, 
 
 Seek not future years to know; 
 But deserve the wished-for blessing, 
 
 It shall come, though it be slow. 
 Tho' each year but bring thee sadness 
 
 And thy youth be fleeting fast. 
 There'll be time enough for gladness, 
 
 Doubt not, joy will come at last! 
 
 His fond eye is watching o'er thee, 
 
 His strong arm shall be thy guard; 
 Duty's path is still before thee, 
 
 It shall lead to thy reward. 
 By thy ills let faith grow stronger, 
 
 Mould the future by the past, 
 Hope thou on a little longer, 
 
 Doubt not, joy will come at last! 
 
 WHAT WAS THE CHARM? 
 
 It was a lovely flower of May, — 
 Velvet purple dark as night, 
 Ruddy yellow golden bright, 
 Azure like the skies by day, 
 On its spreading petals lay; 
 
 And a fragrant scent it breathed 
 
52 WHAT WAS THE CHARM ? 
 
 Faint, like that which orchards yield 
 When the blossoms fall like snow; 
 Sweet as that incense of the field — 
 
 The blessing by the grass bequeathed, 
 When the mowers lay it low. 
 Was it the flower that charmed me so ? 
 Ah, many a pansy just as fair 
 
 I've passed unnoticed in its bed; 
 
 But o'er this flower a little head 
 Shed down its wealth of sunny hair; 
 Two little hands were clasped to hold 
 
 The treasure in its pot of clay. 
 They clasped it like a wedge of gold. 
 
 Upon her head the sunshine lay, 
 While the light and fitful air 
 Trifled with her silken hair. 
 Now it gently swayed, and now 
 Floated cloudlike round her brow, 
 Now it hung without a stir; 
 
 The little hands, the leaves of green, 
 
 Now are hid and now are seen 
 In the golden gossamer. 
 And lustrous eyes, more dark, more bright 
 Than those mixed hues of sky and night 
 On the flower's dappled face, 
 And soft round cheeks, half red, half pale — 
 
 The sweetest tints that roses wear, 
 Gleamed through that light and fluttering veil, 
 
Wll.\ I WAS l ill CHARM : 53 
 
 So, fondled by the loving air, 
 She watched her flower with childish grace. 
 Was it her wealth of sunny hair, 
 Her childish grace, her beauty rare 
 That charmed me so? Ah no, ah no, 
 My little maid might come and go, 
 Just as my sunniest hours have done; 
 I sore regret them when they're gone, 
 Yet scarcely heed them while they stay. 
 I >ce my fairy every day; 
 But this day in her eye so bright, 
 I saw a new and separate light. 
 A watery luster on it lay; 
 On the long lash it slowly grew, 
 And rounded to a drop of dew. 
 There like a gem awhile it hung — 
 
 Her trembling form I marked it well, 
 Her laboring breath I well could hear — 
 Still to her eye the jewel cluhg, 
 
 Till swelling suddenly it fell, 
 And on the pansy lay — a tear. 
 My fortieth year began that day. 
 
 I am not young, I am not old. 
 I've lived to cast some dreams away; 
 
 I've lived to learn that love is gold. 
 So I was glad that day of spring 
 
 When round my chair my children stood, 
 Each laden with an offering. 
 

 54 WHAT WAS I HE CHARM? 
 
 They had no worth but worth of love, 
 Which, much concerned its warmth to prove, 
 
 Spoke such a language as it could. 
 One was not there — my little Grace; 
 Outside she stood and prest her face 
 Against the pane to eye the rest. 
 But plain her clouded look confest 
 Some childish struggle in her breast. 
 Upon the sill her flower was set; 
 She seemed to stand alone, but yet, 
 The sun upon the carpet threw 
 A second shadow, and I knew 
 
 It was her mother standing near, 
 
 Whispering good counsel in her ear. 
 Alas, alas for little Grace; 
 Stubborn and still she kept her place, 
 W T ith hand withdrawn and moody face 
 A silent hour had passed along; 
 No sound' of play, no sound of song; 
 When as I sought in studious mood, 
 
 My garden seat beneath the tree, 
 There in my way, my fairy stood. 
 
 I watched her well; she saw not me. 
 She stood and clasped her pot of clay, 
 While on her head the sunshine lay. 
 And there the warm and fitful air 
 Caressed her light and golden hair. 
 
WHAT WAS THE CHARM ? 55 
 
 I watched her while the strife went on, 
 
 And saw the tearful victory won. 
 
 Then up she looked with brightened face, 
 
 To seek the porch, and saw me stand. 
 Toward me she leaped with eager pace, 
 
 And thrust her treasure in my hand. 
 No word she spoke; nor could she speak; 
 But when I stooped to kiss her cheek, 
 Then all her soul began to flow. 
 
 Around my neck her arms she prest, 
 
 Her face she hid upon my breast, 
 And sobbed, and would not let me go. 
 What was it then that charmed me so? 
 That dewy drop, for well I knew 
 
 That, warmer than her cheek of red, 
 And purer than her eye of blue, 
 
 Is that bright depth where tears are bred. 
 From far their subtle substance springs, 
 High is it borne on airy wings; 
 It fills its sky, an ether clear, 
 
 Shot through with warmth — perchance with 
 chill, 
 
 Before the precious drops distill. 
 It takes a heaven to make a tear. 
 
PART II 
 
PART II 
 
 TEACH THOU ME. 
 
 What I know not teach Thou me: 
 
 To my opened eyes unfold 
 More than mortal sense can see — 
 
 More than mortal heart can hold — 
 Show me Christ on Calvary. 
 
 What I know not teach Thou me: 
 
 Show me all my hidden sin; 
 Break its power, and set me free. 
 
 Pure without and pure within 
 Let Thy ransomed servant be. 
 
 What I know not teach Thou me: 
 In Thy vineyard choose my place. 
 
 Make me wise thy choice to see. 
 Give me skill in ways of grace, 
 
 Leading many souls to Thee. 
 
 What I know not teach Thou me: 
 
 On those heights which saints have trod 
 
 In their Master's company, 
 Lead me in the light of God; 
 
 Let Thy servant walk with Thee. 
 59 
 
60 THY SWORD AND SHIELD. 
 
 What I know not teach Thou me: 
 Check me where I cross Thy will. 
 
 As my fading visions flee, 
 
 Bid my thwarted heart be still, 
 
 And, rejoicing, wait on Thee. 
 
 What I know not teach Thou me: 
 When with tangled feet I stand, 
 
 Held Dy toils I cannot see, 
 
 Let me keep Thy guiding hand; 
 
 Step by step my leader be. 
 
 What I know not teach Thou me: 
 When I seem forsaken quite. 
 
 And my fears rise like the sea, 
 Let me feel Thine arm of might 
 
 Fold me in its panoply. 
 
 What I know not teach Thou me:- 
 When my darkest hour shall come, 
 
 Whilst I wait and watch for Thee, 
 Lift the veil and take me home; 
 
 Let Thy child Thy glory see! 
 
 THY SWORD AND SHIELD. 
 
 With trusting heart and uttered vow 
 I claim my Saviour and my Lord; 
 
 His name is on my forehead now, 
 
 He arms me with His shield and sword. 
 
MY 1 K11..\I>. 6] 
 
 All ye who live by Him who died, 
 
 And wage His war with death and sin, 
 
 R ve a brother to your s 
 
 ur fight to .share, your crown to win. 
 
 Lord, I take Thy sword and shield. 
 But boast no daring of my own. 
 
 ace I'll conquer on the field, 
 I'll wear my crown by grace alone. 
 
 MY FRIEND. 
 
 I have a friend whose eye 
 
 Ne'er leaves me day nor night 
 My ways and wants forever lie 
 
 Within His loving sight. 
 His love I'm prone to task 
 
 With many a wild request. 
 He answers better than I ask, 
 
 And gives me what is best. 
 My faithful friend is strong; 
 
 Could earth and air and sea 
 Make league with hell to do me wrong, 
 
 His word should shelter me. 
 Upon His wide command 
 
 Float the vast worlds like dust. 
 Secure I dwell beneath His hand, 
 
 And love, obey and trust. 
 
 
62 A SONG OF GRATITUDE. 
 
 A SONG OF GRATITUDE. 
 
 First Presbyterian Church, St. Louis, 
 Sunday, Jan. 19, 1S79. 
 
 It is thy bounty Lord that fills 
 
 The teeming sea, the field, the mine; 
 
 The cattle on a thousand hills, 
 
 The silver and the gold are Thine. 
 
 Now with the gifts Thyself hast given, 
 We men come bending to Thy throne. 
 
 Earth turns Thy bounty back to heaven ; 
 Great King, we bring Thee of Thine own. 
 
 Bright with Thy love the gifts came down; 
 
 With love we send them back again. 
 Let Jesus wear them in His crown, 
 
 For Jesus bought them with His pain. 
 
 And us He bought! He bought the world! 
 
 Already floats on every breeze 
 The banner that shall ne'er be furled — 
 
 Thy Crimson cross, O Prince of Peace. 
 
 Thou gentle conqueror, who didst bear 
 
 The burden of our agony, 
 Thy cross within our hearts we wear; 
 
 Thv soldiers unto death are we. 
 
LI\ E FOR COD. 63 
 
 LIVE FOR GOD. 
 
 Ps. cxvi: 6. Return unto thy rest, my soul. 
 
 Oh Thou, who, while I wake or sleep, 
 
 Or sin or serve, art ever God; 
 Whose eyes their watch of mercy keep 
 
 O'er all my steps, wherever trod, — 
 
 I hate the folly that forgets 
 
 In common things myself and Thee — 
 This web of worldiness that sets 
 
 Its worthless veil twixt God and me. 
 
 Oh holy, hidden face, come near; 
 
 Pour on my soul Thy flood of grace; 
 Break down my dungeon walls, and rear, 
 
 In jeweled light, my walls of praise! 
 
 Fill me with God! My narrow scope 
 Lifts like a sky, if Thou come in. 
 
 My lifted sky dissolves, and hope 
 
 Scales the far height where Christ is seen. 
 
 Oh God, what clashing fancies claim 
 The mastery of life's little road! 
 
 Their very jargon speaks Thy name, 
 And calls: O mortal, live for God! 
 
64 A PRAYER. 
 
 A PRAYER. 
 
 gracious Saviour, hear me now, 
 
 I pray to Thee; 
 Let not my heart forget that Thou 
 Hast died for me. 
 
 Thou knowest what fierce assaults I meet, 
 
 Without, within, 
 And how I walk with stumbling feet 
 
 'Midst snares of sin. 
 
 And yet my home, O blessed Lord, 
 
 Is where Thou art. 
 Thy name. Thy love, Thy faithful word 
 
 Are in my heart. 
 
 But care and hurry crowd me on, 
 And I forget; 
 
 1 bless Thy faithful hand alone 
 
 That holds me yet. 
 
 Lord, in this wayward frame I would 
 
 Not always live, 
 I hunger for the heavenly food 
 
 Thou hast to give. 
 
 O turn Thy look of love on me; 
 
 Possess me quite, 
 And let Thy living presence be 
 
 My guiding light. 
 
" w 1 l.l DON] . 65 
 
 "WELL DOM 
 
 Holy Spirit, in Thy light 
 
 All the holy serve and shine; 
 All the angels strong in might, 
 
 All the ransomed saints are Thine. 
 Martyrs bless Thee for their crown; 
 
 Holy prophets spoke Thy word; 
 And Thy boundless grace came down 
 
 On our tempted, sorrowing Lord. 
 
 Now no sorrow clouds His brow; 
 
 Christ has triumphed by His cross. 
 We are in the conflict now; 
 
 Holy Helper, succor us! 
 Arm us with Thy gracious might! 
 
 Spoil immortal make us win! 
 Heavenward help us through the fight! 
 
 Bring the grace-made conquerors in! 
 
 Songs go with us; songs we meet; 
 
 Kindred voices near the throne, 
 Pulsing with our marching feet, 
 
 Bid our lengthening ranks go on. 
 Oh, what shouts of "Grace! " shall ring 
 
 When the nearing songs are one; — 
 When we stand before the King, 
 
 And the King shall say, "Well done! " 
 
66 "whom having not seen, ye LOVE." 
 
 "WHOM HAVING NOT SEEN, YE LOVE." 
 i Pet. i ; 8. 
 
 Jesus, while Thy name is spoken. 
 
 By my trembling mortal tongue, 
 Round Thee swells the tide unbroken 
 
 Of the everlasting song. 
 Blood-bought souls rehearse their story: 
 
 Host on host send back their strain; 
 "Blessing, honor, power and glory 
 
 To the Lamb that once was slain!" 
 Lord, my heart would share their praises: 
 
 But what distance lies between! 
 From these depths my spirit raises 
 
 Homage to a Christ unseen. 
 But He reigns in light unclouded. 
 
 Hail! Thou brow of majesty! 
 Once in midnight anguish shrouded, — 
 
 Heaven's high noon now streams from Thee! 
 Endless blessing be upon Thee, 
 
 Who hast saved me through Thy blood! 
 Glories new forever crown Thee, 
 
 Dying, reigning Lamb of God! 
 All ye saints in heaven confess Him! 
 
 That is heaven ! What joy to you, 
 Who may see Him, while you bless Him! 
 
 But mv soul shall bless Him too. 
 
]>i DI< A l ( > k \ HYMN. 
 
 DEDICATORY HYMN. 
 
 •n Avenue Reformed Church Lecture Roum, March sd, 
 
 Father of lights, and Thou, atoning Lord, 
 
 Thou, too, blest Spirit, only source of grace. 
 Upon these walls Thy holy name record. 
 
 And with Thy presence hallow all the place. 
 No pomp of worship bring we here to Thee 
 
 From countless crowds, or pealing pipes and 
 strings; 
 We rear a covert where our souls may flee. 
 
 To hide beneath the shadow of Thy wings. 
 A place where sighs may breathe, and tears may fall, 
 
 A place where griefs are soothed, and sins confest ; 
 A heavenly place, where Christ is all in all, 
 
 And aching hearts find solace on His breast. 
 A place secure, for infant feet to tread ; 
 
 Where in the Sabbath calm our Lord may come, 
 To feed the children with the children's bread. 
 
 And point their footsteps to the children's home. 
 Then meet us, Father, with Thy look of love: 
 
 Hasten, dear Lord, with blessings in Thy hand; 
 Swift out of heaven come down, O heavenly Dove, 
 
 And leave us never, while these walls shall stand. 
 Bring down, this very hour, Thine angel guests — 
 
 Thy peace, Thy love, the joy of sin forgiven: 
 And mark the Bethel where Thy ladder rests — 
 
 This house of God, this open gate to Heaven. 
 
68 EVEN SO, COME, LORD JESUS. 
 
 EVEN SO, COME, LORD JESUS. 
 Rev. xxii : 20. 
 
 How long the heavens withhold Thee, 
 
 Our Helper tried and strong! 
 The ranks of light enfold Thee, 
 
 How long, Oh Lord, how long? 
 When shall" the heavens be bending 
 
 Beneath the unnumbered wings, 
 In radiant pomp attending 
 
 The coming King of Kings? ' 
 
 No cross is now before Thee; 
 
 Thy ransom-work is done. 
 The blood-stained wood that bore Thee 
 
 Outblazons now the sun. 
 Such glory lasts to lighten 
 
 Thy way in sorrow trod! 
 What burst of heaven shall brighten 
 
 The coming of our God! 
 
 The splendor shall not hide Thee 
 
 By earth and heaven adored. 
 All glories pale beside Thee, 
 
 Our Brother and our Lord. 
 Break through the skies, and greet us 
 
 From our eternal home! 
 Make haste, our Life, to meet us! 
 
 Oh come, Lord Jesus, come! 
 
 -> 
 
USSION POl If. (><j 
 
 HOME MISSION POEM. 
 
 God of the men that quailed not 
 
 At any face of clay ; 
 God of the grace that failed not 
 Through all their pilgrim way; 
 
 Like Israel, Thou didst lead them 
 
 Through waters deep and red; 
 Like Israel Thou didst feed them 
 
 With Christ, the heavenly bread. 
 
 And here their sons are planted 
 
 And here Thy churches stand; 
 Their martyr-prayer is granted — 
 
 This is Jehovah's land. 
 
 Ring out from tower and steeple, 
 
 Ye wilderness of bells! 
 And shout, ye thankful people; 
 
 The Lord among you dwells — 
 
 Not where some Zion riseth 
 
 More glorious than the rest; 
 No spot our King despiseth, 
 
 Nor knoweth east nor west. 
 
 O'er prairie, stream and city, 
 
 Deep vale and mountain high, 
 His sovereign, saving pity 
 
 He spreadeth like the sky. 
 
 
 
70 HOME MISSION POEM. 
 
 Oh, spreading sky, be bended! 
 
 Come Holy Ghost again, 
 Swift out of heaven descended, 
 
 And bearing gifts to men. 
 
 For lo! our land is teeming 
 With an unnumbered host; 
 
 The scattered tribes come streaming 
 As to a Pentecost. 
 
 No upper room can hold them 
 Nor temple, as of yore; 
 
 The circling seas enfold them, 
 They spread from shore to shore. 
 
 Then come with sudden power 
 O rushing wind of grace: 
 
 Sweep through our land this hour, 
 And fill the ample place. 
 
 Come to the crowded churches; 
 
 Come to the busy mills; 
 Come where the miner perches 
 
 His hut among the hills. 
 
 Where two or three are kneeling 
 And breath of praise and prayer 
 
 From lowly roofs come stealing 
 Upon the evening air — 
 
 Where'er Thy truth is spoken, 
 Where'er a child is taught, 
 
BAR riMEUS. 71 
 
 Where'er a heart is broken — 
 Thy saving work be wrought. 
 
 To native bom and stranger 
 Send out the searching grace, 
 
 Till the wild forest ranger 
 Shall time his steps to praise. 
 
 Till all their sons and daughters 
 Of every hue and tongue, 
 
 Snail like the noise of waters, 
 Lift up their sounding song. 
 
 Oh, many-voiced nation, 
 Oh, fold of every flock, 
 
 Safe be thy habitation, 
 Beneath the eternal rock. 
 
 But make thy God thy glory, 
 And take thy tongues of flame, 
 
 And tell the world the story, 
 Of Calvary and the Lamb. 
 
 BARTIMEUS. 
 
 Lord, I know Thy grace is nigh me, 
 Thou Thyself I cannot see; 
 
 Jesus, Master, pass not by me; 
 Son of David, pity me. 
 
THE HOLY SPIRIT. 
 
 While I sit in weary blindness, 
 Longing for the blessed light, 
 
 Many taste Thy loving kindness; 
 "Lord, 1 would receive my sight." 
 
 I would see Thee and adore Thee, 
 And Thy word the power can give; 
 
 Hear the sightless soul implore Thee; 
 Let me see Thy face and live. 
 
 Ah, what touch is this that thrills me? 
 
 What this burst of strange delight? 
 Lo, the rapturous vision fills me! 
 
 This is Jesus! This is sight! 
 
 Room, ye saints that throng behind Him! 
 
 Let me follow in the way; 
 I will teach the blind to find Him 
 
 Who can turn their night to day. 
 
 THE HOLY SPIRIT. 
 
 God, the Spirit, Fount of might, 
 
 All the saints are saints by Thee. 
 Life of those that live in light, 
 
 Wilt Thou live in me? 
 Who can need thy blessings more? 
 
 Who can urge a worthier plea? 
 For my soul is weak and sore, 
 
 And Christ died for me. 
 
73 
 
 Here Oil earth my Saviour died, 
 
 Where my sins and sorrows be, 
 Shall 1 1 is spirit not abide 
 
 ( )n the earth, with me? 
 
 and Heaven prepares to sing, 
 
 Blessed Spirit, thanks to Thee, 
 For the saints shall see their king 
 
 Glorified in me. 
 
 HYMN 
 
 Oh God, our Father, from the height 
 
 Of Thy eternal throne, 
 See through what clouds of storm and night 
 
 Our little years roll on. 
 
 Break through our firmament of gloom, 
 
 Our downcast eyes lift up. 
 And make Thy children's faces bloom 
 
 With heaven's immortal hope. 
 
 Above the turmoil of our years 
 
 We see our Father's face, 
 And through the blindness of our tears 
 
 Streams down Thy light of grace. 
 
 So let Thy presence guide and keep 
 
 The remnant of our way, 
 Until our brightening years shall sweep 
 
 Into eternal day. 
 
74 THE TRINITY. 
 
 THE TRINITY. 
 
 Is this the Son of God 
 
 That dies in agony, 
 And did he choose this cross of shame, 
 
 And bitter death for me ? 
 
 Is this the Spirit's grace, 
 
 That moves within my breast, 
 
 And shows me all my wickedness, 
 And makes me long for rest ? 
 
 Is this the Father's voice 
 That speaks above my fears, 
 
 And with its kindness melts my soul, 
 To tenderness and tears? 
 
 To me, Great God, to me, 
 Is this great pity shown ; 
 
 Take me; I yield and from this hour 
 Dear Lord. I am Thine own. 
 
 THOU HEAREST THE SOUND THEREOF. 
 Jxo. iii. 8. 
 
 Spirit of life, how near thou art! 
 
 Oh, make Thy work complete; 
 And bring my quickened, thankful heart 
 
 To mv Redeemer's feet. 
 
 _ 
 
I w l \ 1 V- l 111KD PSALM. 75 
 
 But can I now my thanks forbear? 
 
 I Live 1 no SOng to raise ? 
 Thy quickening breath is in my prayer; 
 ept it in Thy praise. 
 
 Oli, S gn Pity! Tender Might! 
 
 Thy steps I cannot trace ; 
 
 But I am walking in Thy light, 
 And walking by Thy grace. 
 
 A pulse is in this heart of stone; 
 
 It owns its Sovereign near. 
 My Guest! my God! accept Thy throne. 
 
 And make Thy temple here. 
 
 TWENTY-THIRD PSALM. 
 
 A shepherd in the Lord have I, 
 I shall not want. He makes me lie 
 Where green and broad the pastures grow, 
 He leads me where still waters flow. 
 
 T'is He brings back my straying soul, 
 And makes the wounded wanderer whole 
 Then shows me for His goodness sake 
 The righteous ways my feet must take. 
 
 Yea, when the roughest paths I tread, 
 Dark as the gloom that shrouds the dead, 
 I'll fear no harm. I walk with Thee; 
 Thy rod and staff, they comfort me. 
 
j6 ELIJAH. 
 
 Though hosts of foes around me stand, 
 My board is loaded by Thy hand ; 
 Anointed with Thy oil I sup 
 With brimming fullness in my cup. 
 
 Surely on me till life shall end, 
 Goodness and mercy shall attend. 
 Then, Lord, my endless home shall be 
 Within Thy house, and near to Thee. 
 
 ELIJAH. 
 
 My way, O God, before Thee lies, 
 My trodden steps, my steps untrod. 
 
 In light they lie before Thine eyes — 
 One journey to the mount of God. 
 
 Though far from hope and help, I make 
 My bed upon the desert's sands, 
 
 Safe from my guarded sleep I wake 
 To feast on dainties from Thy hands. 
 
 It is no desert where Thou art ; 
 
 There is no want, if God provide; 
 And lonely men, who take Thy part, 
 
 Have hidden thousands on their side. 
 
 Then lead me on ; my roughest road 
 Is steep with duty; and apace 
 
 It nears the rock of Thy abode — 
 The Horeb where I see Thy face. 
 
PRAYER i" Mil HOLY SPIRIT — TH1 rEMPTATION, 
 
 PRAYER TO THE HOLY SPIRIT, 
 
 Thou who like the wind dost come; 
 
 Come to me, but ne'er depart; 
 Blessed Spirit, make thy home 
 
 In my thankful heart. 
 
 Answer not with tongues of light; 
 
 Brood not o'er me like a dove; 
 Fall upon me in thy might; 
 
 Fill me with thy love. 
 
 Sin has ruled me; set me free; 
 
 Sin has scourged me; bring me rest; 
 Help my fainting soul to flee 
 
 To my Saviour's breast. 
 
 Tell me much of cleansing blood; 
 
 Show me sin, but sin forgiven; 
 Step by step, where Christ has trod, 
 
 Help me home to heaven. 
 
 THE TEMPTATION. 
 
 Through the desert's blazing noon, 
 Through the desert's homeless night, 
 
 Fasting, fainting and alone, 
 
 Comes the Tempted to the fight. 
 
 Not a stone in all this way, 
 
 But for Him would turn to bread; 
 
78 1 CLING TO THL£. 
 
 And His weakest wish could lay 
 Crowns of kingdoms on His head- 
 
 But for Him no kingly crown, 
 Loaded board, or couch of rest, 
 
 Till His foe is trampled down 
 And His triumph is confest. 
 
 Crowned art Thou now, dear Lord ; 
 
 • Food Thou hast for Thee and Thine 
 For the desert earth is stored 
 
 With Thy bread and flowing wine. 
 
 Now the weakest girt with might, 
 Now the fainting fed by faith, 
 
 Foil the Tempter in the fight, 
 And in dying, conquer Death. 
 
 I CLING TO THEE. 
 
 Like those who grasped in fright 
 
 Their ship's low side; 
 And drifted through the howling night, 
 
 On Galilee's fierce tide: 
 
 I drift across a dark 
 
 And boisterous sea, 
 And cling — but to no foundering bark • 
 
 My Lord, I cling to Thee. 
 
i.i < >k\ Bl ro GOD ALON1 . 79, 
 
 In glor) , on the deep 
 Thou walkest there ! 
 
 My faith into Thine arms doth leap; 
 Thine arms my chariot are. 
 
 The sea is but Thy way; 
 
 The storm, Thy voice. 
 I yield me to Thy sovereign sway 
 
 And choose Thy blessed choice. 
 
 GLORY BE TO GOD ALONE. 
 
 From the vast and veiled throng, 
 
 Round tiie Father's heavenly throne, 
 Swells the everlasting song: 
 
 Glory be to God alone! 
 Round Immanuel's cross of pain 
 
 Mortal men, in tribes unknown, 
 Sing to Him who once was slain: 
 Glory be to God alone! 
 
 Blend, ye raptured songs, in one; 
 
 Men redeemed, your Father own; 
 Angels, worship ye the Son: 
 
 Glory be to God alone! 
 Spirit, 'lis within Thy light, 
 
 Streaming far from cross and throne v 
 Earth and heaven their songs unite: 
 Glory be to God alone! 
 
80 TO THE TRINITY — OUR NATION'S GOD. 
 
 TO THE TRINITY. 
 
 Eternal Father, when to Thee 
 
 Beyond all worlds by faith I soar, 
 
 Before Thy boundless majesty 
 I stand in silence and adore. 
 
 But Saviour, Thou art by my side; 
 
 Thy voice I hear, Thy face I see; 
 Thou art my friend, my daily guide, 
 
 God over all, yet God with me. 
 
 And Thou, Great Spirit, in my heart 
 Dost make Thy temple day by day. 
 
 The Holy Ghost of God Thou art, 
 Yet dwellest in this house of clay. 
 
 Blest Trinity, in whom alone 
 All things created, move or rest, 
 
 High in the heavens Thou hast Thy throne; 
 Thou hast Thv throne within my breast. 
 
 OUR NATION'S GOD. 
 
 God of our fathers, loud to Thy praise 
 All our sweet Sabbaths thankfully sing. 
 
 Worshiping millions throng Thy glad ways; 
 Lo! 'tis a nation owns Thee its King. 
 
 Grieved for their altars thrown to the ground, 
 Forth sailed the pilgrims, trusting Thy grace- 
 
BY A rHOUSAND WAYS Wl COME. ll 
 
 Pilgrims and prophets! — seekers that found 
 Room for their altars, room for their race. 
 
 Stronger than tempests bursting in wrath, 
 Kinder than zephyrs breathed over the sea, 
 
 Councils eternal ordered their path, 
 
 Cave them an empire; bade them be free! 
 
 Pealed from the ocean, long as it rolls, 
 Borne on our breezes, sown in the sod, 
 
 Chorused in anthems, throned in our souls, 
 Rule us and save us, Name of our God! 
 
 God speed our white sails, far as they fly! 
 
 God keep our banner grandly unfurled! — 
 Flag-staff and mast-head flashing on high: 
 
 " Christ and our Country ! Christ for the World !" 
 
 BY A THOUSAND WAYS WE COME. 
 
 Sung at the farewell meeting of the Evangelical Alliance, at the Academy of Music, 
 New York, on Sunday evening, Oct. 12, 1873. 
 
 By a thousand ways we come; 
 
 A thousand ways we go. 
 These in India have their home, 
 
 And these near Alpine snow. 
 Islanders of distant seas, 
 
 Dwellers on the Western main, 
 Men of Britain and of Greece, 
 
 Of China and of Spain — 
 
82 BY A THOUSAND WAYS WE COME. 
 
 We are many; we are one; 
 
 For, by one Spirit led, 
 All our paths together run, 
 
 Though o'er the earth they spread. 
 Straight to Christ they lead for light, 
 
 Straight to Christ for sin forgiven; 
 Straight behind Him through the fight 
 
 Then, with Him, straight to heaven. 
 
 Merge we then our separate speech, 
 
 To form a common tongue. 
 Cease, ye discords, while we reach 
 
 A universal song. 
 " Jesus" be the name we sing! 
 
 Help us, Spirit of the Lord, 
 And the utmost lands shall ring, 
 
 With that adored word. 
 
 Hark, with shouts, the saints on high 
 
 The King of Glory crown. 
 Roll apart, O solid sky, 
 
 And pour the anthem down. 
 "Hallelujah!" Say, ye men, 
 
 Is it heaven or earth that sings? 
 Shout the chorus back again; 
 
 "Our Christ is King of Kings." 
 
GOD S l'l in. 
 
 GOD'S PLAN 
 
 Oh God, before Thy sovereign mind, 
 
 That moulds creation as it wills, 
 My briefest fancy stands defined 
 
 Clear as the mighty moveless hills. 
 
 From Thee I am, to Thee I tend; 
 
 About all paths my feet have trod, 
 About my footsteps to the end, 
 
 Still lies the circling plan of God. 
 
 In Thee, so near on every side, 
 
 In Thee, — a life that sprang from Thee — 
 Distinct but intimate I hide, 
 
 O sovereign, sole sufficiency! 
 
 I know not how my flitting thought 
 And wayward will fullfil Thy plan. 
 
 1 only know that I am naught, 
 
 Yet feel the pulse that makes me man. 
 
 Like the swift dance of whispering leaves 
 Thought, purpose, joy within me play, 
 
 Thy breath the mazy pageant weaves, 
 Thy goodness gilds it like the day, 
 
 Yet darkness veils Thee round about. 
 
 Lost in the mystery of my guilt, 
 In vain I search to find Thee out; 
 
 Thou shinest to me as thou wilt. 
 
84 THE TRINITY, 
 
 Pavilioned in eternity 
 
 Thou rear'st the fabric of our days. 
 Time's crested ages, lit from Thee, 
 
 Slow syllable Thy boundless praise. 
 
 Oh dreadful greatness, hid afar! 
 
 Oh tender love, that art so nigh! 
 From Thy still depths, past sun and star, 
 
 I turn, on Jesus' breast to lie. 
 
 Oh God, eternal be Thy throne! 
 
 Close-girded with Thy loving might, 
 I climb by fastnesses unknown, 
 
 To stand in Thy eternal light. 
 
 THE TRINITY. 
 
 Who knows Thy boundless might? 
 Who can Thy praise recite, 
 
 Father adored? 
 All worlds Thy temp'ies be; 
 All creatures cry to Thee; 
 Glory and majesty 
 
 Are Thine, Oh Lord. 
 
 Then can our mortal hymn 
 Through choirs of seraphim 
 To Thee ascend? 
 
SA> U 'Ik AND 5INN1 R. 
 
 Plead for us, Christ our King, 
 "1'is in Thy name we sing, 
 Thine all the worth we bring, 
 our and Friend. 
 
 Lo! while our Lord we own. 
 Swift comes His blessing down, 
 
 Bought with His blood. 
 Spirit of Christ the Son, 
 Earnest of heaven begun, 
 Seal us Thou Holy One, 
 
 The sons of God. 
 
 All gracious Trinity, 
 We mortals raise to Thee 
 
 Our thankful songs. 
 Bring us to see Thy face, 
 Show us Thy boundless grace, 
 And tune to endless praise 
 
 Our raptured tongues. 
 
 SAVIOUR AND SINNER. 
 
 It was no love of mine, dear Lord, 
 That won Thy love for me. 
 
 On me were Thy compassions poured 
 From the accursed tree. 
 
86 SECURITY. 
 
 And now I hold Thee by no bands 
 
 Of saintly prayer or deed. 
 I hold Thee with my trembling hands, 
 
 These hands of guilt and need. 
 
 Saviour and sinner, we have met, 
 
 And meeting will not part. 
 The blood that bought me claims me yet; 
 
 Christ has me in His heart. 
 
 So pure, though vile, and rich, though poor, 
 
 I have my all in Thee — 
 Beloved and loving, pledged, secure 
 
 To all eternity. 
 
 SECURITY. 
 
 Too long I've strained my dim and aching sight 
 Against the future's unsubstantial gloom. 
 I cannot make the shapeless void assume 
 
 A certain form of sorrow or delight. 
 
 Frown on, thou deep, impenetrable night, 
 Wrap me in darkness like a mighty tomb. 
 
 Thou canst not harm me till Cod's word of doom 
 Shall call thy viewless terrors into light. 
 That word has blessed me, and I'll sit secure, 
 
DAILY TRUST. 87 
 
 Nor shake to see the threatening shapes come nigh. 
 
 Stronger than they, I shall their rage endure, 
 Or smile to see them lay their terrors by. 
 So while I speak, the lifting gloom is fled, 
 
 And circling angels hover o'er my head. 
 
 DAILY TRUST. 
 
 Jesus, one word from Thee 
 Fills my sad soul with peace. 
 
 My griefs are like a tossing sea; 
 They hear Thy voice and cease. 
 
 Soon as Thy pitying face 
 
 Shone through my stormy fears, 
 
 The storm swept by, nor left a trace, 
 Save the sweet dew of tears. 
 
 And when Thou call'st me, Lord, 
 Where thickest dangers be, 
 
 Even the waves a path afford; 
 I walk the waves with Thee. 
 
 With Thee within my bark 
 
 I'll dare death's threatening tide; 
 
 Nor count the passage strange or dark 
 With Jesus by my side. 
 
88 I SHALL NOT WANT. 
 
 Dear Lord, Thy faithful grace 
 I know and I adore; 
 
 What shall it be to see Thy face 
 In heaven, forevermore! 
 
 I SHALL NOT WANT. 
 
 Since Thou dear Lord, art Shepherd of Thy sheep, 
 
 I shall not want. 
 My straying soul Thou dost restore and keep: 
 
 I shall not want. 
 Yea, though I walk where thickest dangers be, 
 How shall I want or fear? Thou leadest me. 
 
 Through many foes my daily paths I tread; 
 
 Yet shall not want. 
 Full in their sight Thou dost my table spread: 
 
 I shall not want. 
 The board is Thine, I lean on Thee, and sup 
 With head anointed and with brimming cup. 
 
 But I shall sit beside another board, 
 
 I shall not want. 
 Thy Father's house has room for me, dear Lord;. 
 
 I shall not want. 
 My place prepared, awaits me at Thy side: 
 I shall be like Thee, and be satisfied. 
 
 
SLEEP. 89 
 
 SLEEP. 
 
 Beneath Thine eye, 
 
 That slumbereth not nor sleepeth, 
 
 Thankful and safe, my weary eyes I close. 
 Secure I lie, 
 
 While soothing darkness steepeth 
 My sense and trusting- soul in sweet repose. 
 
 The night is Thine! 
 
 Its temple-walls enclose me. 
 My midnight pillow, moveless, mute and dim 
 It is Thy shrine! 
 
 My heart in slumber knows Thee. 
 Its silent pulses are its altar-hymn. 
 
 From toil to rest, 
 
 From rest to toil returning — 
 Each glad vibration brings me still to Thee 
 Thy sheltering breast 
 
 I seek with nightly yearning: 
 Waking, I hold thy hand. Thou leadest me. 
 
 But dearer grows 
 
 My pillow and my keeper. 
 Why should the toil-worn steps go laboring on? 
 The night must close, 
 
 The darkening way grows steeper. 
 ThouTt keep my pillow, when my day is done. 
 
90 SLEEP. 
 
 Where stand in light 
 
 Thy ransomed without number, 
 No surge of darkness lifts its leaden spray. 
 Here, toil and night- 
 Brief night and fleeting slumber: 
 They pass together; then, eternal day! 
 
 
Softly the Daylight Fades. 
 
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