F-46ie3' r\X2 FROM THE LIBRARY OF REV. LOUIS FITZGERALD BENSON, D. D. BEQUEATHED BY HIM TO THE LIBRARY OF PRINCETON THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY EXTORT BOOKSUICRS 32. GAY STREET, ... v^ BATH./^V /) Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2013 http://archive.org/details/fredfaOOfabe HYMNS SELECTED FROM FABER SUITABLE FOR A PRESENT. Handsomely bomid, cloth gzlt, gilt edges, $s. FABER'S HYMNS. Fine Paper Edition. Price 2s. 6d. THE CHRISTIAN YEAR. By the Rev. Thomas Keble. Thoughts in Verse for the Sunda5'S and Holy Days throughout the Year. New and Attractive Edition. Printed in Colours with specially designed borders. Gilt edges. llontion ; J. S. Virtue & Co., Limited, 26, Ivy Lane. ■y^ 1936 «v^^: Selected from Faber 4jm^ LONDON J. S. VIRTUE & CO., LIMITED 26, IVY LANK, PATERNOSTER ROW 189O LONDON : PRINTED BY J. S. VIRTUE AXD CO., LIMITED, CITY ROAD. CONTENTS. faOLOOUB hAQm I Fart 1, THE FATHER, THE SON, AND THE SPIRIT. ox XXX± J. . OUR HEAVENLY FATHER . . . . ^ MY FATHER .... . 12 THE GOD OF MY CHILDHOOD . . 15 THE GREATNESS OF GOD . . 20 LONGING FOR GOD . , • 24 JESUS IS GOD .... . 27 THE AGONY , . • » . SI THE PAIN OF LOVB . . S6 Vi CONTENTS FAGB JESrS, Ml GOD AND MY ALL ' . , . 88 TR^E LOVE ..•'••( 4] TBNI 8ANCITS BFISITUg • ' ' • » 47 Part II. CHEISTIAN LIFE. THE GIFTS OF GOD •*•««« 51 THE WORK OF GRACE • • / • • 55 THE END OF MAN .••••• 58 INVITATION TO THE MISSION • c % .61 COMR TO JESrS . . o • • • 65 THE TRUE SHEPHERD • • • * • 69 CONVERSION . . • * • • • 73 PERFECTION . ••••«» 76 THE WILL OF GOD v * » • • • 79 SELF-LOVE . « » « • e • 83 HARSH JUDGMENTS ..»••• 87 DISTRACTIONS IN PRAYER . , * . • 94 DRYNESS IN PRAYER * # « • • 98 SWEETNESS IN PRAYEB . • * » .102 CONTENTS. PEEVISHNESS LOW SPIKITS riOB 105 no Part Til. MISCELLANEOUS. THE UNBELIEVING WORLD . • , 117 TH3: SORROWFUL WORLD . 123 THE WORLD .... 130 THE RIGHT MUST WIN . 133 THE STARRY SKIES , 138 EVENING HYMN 144 A cottager's child . 147 MUSIC . • • « 149 SUNDAY . . . . . 156 THE OLD LABOURER . . 361 Part IY. THE LAST TinNGS. WISHES ABOUT DEATH THE PATHS OF DEATH 169 172 VIU CXJNTENTS, MCC A child's death ••.... 177 AFTEB A DEATH •»»«•. 183 DEEP ORIBy » 4 • • , • * 1(^8 HSAV2K • 4 •••.«, 1^ AH for freedom, for freedom in worshipping God, For the mountain-top feeling of generous souls, For the health, for the air, of the hearts deep and broad, Where gi'ace not in rills but in cataracts rolls ! Most good is the brisk wholesome service of fear, And the calm wise obedience of conscience is sweet ; And good are all worships, all loyalties dear, All promptitudes fitting, all services meet. t PROLOGUE. But none honours God like the thirst ol desire, Nor possesses the heart so completely with Him ; For it burns the world out with the switi ease of fire, And fills life with good works till it runs o'ei the brim. For the heart only dwells, truly dwells with its treasure. And the languor of love captive hearts caL unfetter ; And they who love God cannot love Him by measure, For their love is but hunger to love Him still better. PROLOGUE. Is it hard to serve God, timid Boul ? Hast thou found Gloomy forests, dark glens, mountain-tops on thy way ? All the hard would be easy, all the tangles unwound, Wouldst thou only desire, as well as obey. For the lack of desire is the ill of all ills ; Many thousands through it the dark pathway have trod ; The balsam, the wine of predestinate wills Is a jubilant pining and longing for God. 'Tis B fire that will burn what thou canst not pass over; *Tis a lightning that breaks away fell bars to love; 4 PROLOGUE. 'Tis a sunbeam the secrets of God to discover ; 'Tis the wing David prayed for, the wing of the dove. 'Tis a great gift of God to live after our Lord ; Yet the old Hebrew times they were ages of fire, When fainting souls fed on each dim figured word. A.nd God called men He loved most — the Men of Desire. Oh then wish more for God, burn more with desire. Covet more the dear sight of His marvellous face; Pray louder, pray longer, for the sweet gift of ^e To come down on thy heart with its whirl- winds of grace. PROLOGUE. 5 God loves to be longed for, He longs to be sought, For He sought us Himself with such longing and love : He died for desire of us, marvellous thought ! A.nd He yearns for us now to be with Him ftbova. ^nrt I rHE FATHER, THE SON, AND TUB SPIRIT. OUR HEAVENLY FATHER. ll/rY God ! how wonderful Thou artj Thy Majesty how bright, How beautiful Thy Mercy- Seat In depths of burning light I How dread are Thine eternal years, everlasting Lord I By prostrate spirits day and night Incessantly adored 1 How beautiful, how beautiful The sight of Thee must be, Thine endless wisdom, boundless power, And awful purity! iO OUR HEAVENLY FATHER. Oh how I fear Thee, living God 1 With deepest, tenderest fears, And worship Thee with trembling hope, And penitential tears. Yet I may love Thee too, Lord I Almighty as Thou art. For Thou hast stooped to ask of me The love of my poor heart. Oh then this worse than worthless heart In pity deign to take. And make it love Thee, for Thyself And for Thy glory's sake. No earthly father loves like Thee, No mother half so mild Bears and forbears, as Thou hast done, With me Thy sinful child. OUR HEAVENLY FATHER. II Only to sit and think of God, Oh what a joy it is ! To think the thought, to breathe the Name, Earth has no higher bliss I MY FATHER. A GOD ! Thy power is wonderful, Thy glory passing bright ; Thy wisdom, with its deep on deep A rapture to the sight. Thy justice is the gladdest thing Creation can behold ; Thy tenderness so meek, it wins The guilty to be bold. Yet more than all, and ever more. Should we Thy creatures bless. Most worshipful of attributes, Thine awful holiness. MV FATHER. IJ There's not a craving in the mind Thou dost not meet and still ; There's not a wish the heart can have Which Thou dost not fulEl. I see Thee in the eternal years In glory all alone, Ere round Thine uncreated fires Created light had shone. I see Thee walk m Eden's shade, I see Thee all through time ; Thy patience and compassion seem New attributes sublime. I see Thee when the doom is o'er. And outworn time is done, Still, still incomprehensible, God ! yet not alone. t4 M\ FATHER. Angelic spirits, countless souls. Of Thee have drunk their fill ; And to eternity will drink Thy joy and glory still. All things that have been, all that are All things that can be dreamed, All possible creations, made, Kept faithful, or redeemed, — All these may draw upon Thy power. Thy mercy may command ; And still outflows Thy silent sea, Immutable and grand. little heart of mine ! shall pain Or sorrow make thee moan, When all this God is all for Thee, A Father all thine own ? THE GOD OF MY CHILDHOOD. A GOD ! who wert my childhood's love My boyhood's pure delignt, A presence felt the livelong day, A welcome fear at night, — Oh let me speak to Thee, dear God ! Of those old mercies past, O'er which new mercies day by day Such lengthening shadows cast. They bade me call Thee Father, Lord ! Sweet was the freedom deemed, And yet more like a mother's ways Thy quiet mercies seemed. l6 THE GOD OF MY CHILDHOOD. At scliool Thou wert a kindly face Which I could almost see ; But home and holyday appeared Somehow more full of Thee. I could not sleep unless Thy hand Were underneath my head, That I might kiss it, if I lay Wakeful upon my bed. And quite alone I never felt,— I knew that Thou wert near, A silence tingling in the room, A strangely pleasant fear. And to home- Sundays long since past How fondly memory clings ; For then my mother told of Thee Such sweet, such wondrous things. THE GOD OF MY CHILDHOOD. I know not what I thought of Thee, What picture I had made Of that eternal Majesty To whom my childhood prayed. I know I used to lie awake, And tremble at the shape Of my own thoughts, yet did not wisb Thy terrors to escape. I had no secrets as a child, Yet never spoke of Thee ; The nights we spent together, Lord ! Were only known to me. I lived two lives, which seemed distinct. Yet which did intertwine : One was my mother's — it is gone — -- The other, Lord ! was Thine- «S THE GOD OF MY CHILDHOOD I never wandered from Thee, Lord I But sinned before Thy face ; Yet now, on looking back, my sins Seem all beset with grace. With age Thou grewest more divinO; More glorious than before ; I feared Thee with a deeper fear. Because I loved Thee more. Thou broadenest out with every year, Each breadth of life to meet : I scarce can think Thou art the same, Thou art so much more sweet. Changed and not changed. Thy present charms Thy past ones only prove ; Oh make my heart more strong to bear This newness of Thy love t THE GOD OF MY CHILDHOOD. These novelties of love ! — when will Thy goodness find an end ? Whither will Thy compassions, Lord I Incredibly extend ? Father ! what hast Thou grown to now f A joy all joys above, Something more sacred than a fear^ More tender than a love I With gentle swiftness lead me on, Dear God ! to see Thy face ; And meanwhile in my narrow hear* Oh make Thyself more space i THE GREATNESS OF GOD. A MAJESTY unspeakable and dread I Wert Thou less mighty than Thou art, Thou wert, Lord ! too great for our belief, Too little for our heart. Thy greatness would seem monstrous by the side Of creatures frail and undivine ; Yet they would have a greatness of their own Free and apart from Thine. Such grandeur were but a created thing, A spectre, terror, and a grief. Out of all keeping with a world so caJm, Oppressing our beliefa THE .GREATNESS OB GOD. 21 But greatness which is infinite makes room For all things in its lap to lie ; We should be crushed by a magnificence Short of infinity. It would outgrow us from the face of thingSj Still prospering as we decayed, And, like a tyrannous rival, it would feed Upon the wrecks it made. But what is infinite must bo a home. A shelter for the meanest life. Where it is free to reach its greatest growth Far from the touch of strife. We share in what is infinite : 'tis ours, For we and it alike are Thine ; What I enjoy, great God ! by right of Thee In more than doubly mine. 'd.2 THE GREAINESS OF GOD. Thus doth Thy hospitable greatness lie Outside us like a boundless sea ; We cannot lose ourselves where all is home, Nor drift away from Thee. Out on that sea we are in harbour still, And scarce advert to winds and tides, Like ships that ride at anchor, with the waves Flapping against their sides. Thus doth Thy grandeur make us grand our- selves ; 'Tis goodness bids us fear ; Thy greatness makes us brave as children are, When those they love are near. Great God ! our lowliness takes heart to play Beneath the shadow of Thy state ; The only comfort of our littleness Is that Thou art so great. IHE GREATNESS OF GOD. 2} Then on Thy grandeur I will fay me down ; Already life is heaven for me : No cradled child more softly lies than I,— (Jome soon, Eternity 8 LONGING FOR GOD, TTOW gently flow the silent years, The seasons one by one ; How sweet to feel, each month that goes^ That life must soon be done i weary ways of earth and men \ self more weary still ! How vainly do you vex the heart That none but God can fill I It is not weariness of life That makes us wish to die ; But we are drawn by cords which comt From out eternity LONGING FOR GOD. 25 Eye has not seen, ear has not heard, No heart of man can tell, The store of joys God has prepared For those who love Him well. Oh may those joys one day be ours, Upon that happy shore ! And yet those joys are not enough — We crave for something more. The worid's unkindness grows with life, And troubles never cease ; *Twere lawful then to wish to die, Simply to be at peace. Yes ! peace is something more than joys Even the joys above ; For peace, of all created things, Is likest Him we love. 26 LONGING FOR GOD. But not for joy, nor yet for peacOf Dare we desire to die ; God's will on earth is always joy^ Always tranquillity. To die, that we might sin no morec Were scarce a hero's prayer; And glory grows as grace matures^ And patience loves to bear. And yet we long and long to die, We covet to be free, Not for Thy great rewards, God \ Not for Thy peace — but Thee ! Ah, leave us, then, at peace, to greet Each waxing, waning moon. Whose silver light seems aye to say— Soon, exile spirit ! soon \ JESUS IS GOD. TESUS is God ! The solid earth, The ocean broad and bright, The countless stars, like golden dust, That strew the skies at night, The wheeling storm, the dreadful fire, The pleasant, wholesome air, The summer's sun, the "winter's frost, His own creations were. Jesus is God ! The glorious banda Of golden angels sing Songs of adoring praise to Him, Their Maker and their Kinor. 28 JESUS IS GOD. He was true God in Bethlehem's cribt On Calvary's cross true God, fle who in heaven eternal reigned, In time on earth abode. Jesus is God ! There never wa? A time when He was not : Boundless, eternal, merciful, The Word the Sire begot 1 Backward our thoughts through ages stretch, Onward through endless bliss, — For there are two eternities, And both alike are His I J esus is God ! Alas ! they say On earth the numbers grow. Who His Divinity blaspheme To their unfailing woe. JESUS IS GOD. 29 And yet what is the single end Of this life's mortal span, Except to glorify the God Who for our sakes was man ? Jesus is God ! Let sorrow come, And pain, and every ill ; All are worth while, for all are means His glory to fulfil ; Worth while a thousand years of life To speak one little word, If by our Credo we might own The Godhead of our Lord ! Jesus is God ! Oh could I now But compass land and sea, To teach and tell this single trrth. How happy should I be I ) JESUS IS GOD. Oh had T but an angel's voice 1 would proclaim so loud, — Jesus, the good, the beautiful. Is everlasting God I Jesus IS God ! If on the earth This blessed faith decays, More tender must our love becoiae More plentiful our praise. We are not angels, but we may Down in earth's corners kneel And multiply sweet acts of love. And murmur what we feaS. THE AGONY. A SOUL of Jesus, sick to deaths Thy blood and prayer together plead My sins have bowed Thee to the ground, As the storm bows the feeble reed. Midnight- — and still the oppressive load Upon Thy tortured heart doth lie : Still the abhorred procession winds Before Thy spirit^s quailing eye. Deep waters have come in, Lord All darkly on Thy human soul ; And clouds of supernatural gloom Around Thee are allowed to roll. 32 THE AGONY. The weight of the eternal wrath Drives over Thee with pressure dread ; And, forced upon the olive roots, In deathlike sadness droops Thy head. Thy spirit weighs the sins of men ; Thy science fathoms all their guilt ; Thou sickenest heavily at Thy heart, And the pores open, — blood is spilt. And Thou hast struggled with it. Lord I Even to the limit of Thy strength, While hours, whose minutes were as years, Slowly fulfilled their weary length. And Thou hast shuddered at each act, And shrunk with an astonished fear, As if Thou couldst not bear to see The loathsomeness of sin so near. THE AGONY. ^^ Sin and the Father's anger ! they Have made Thy lower nature faint ; Ail save the love within Thy heart, Seemed for the moment to be spent. My God ! My God ! and can it be That I should sin so lightly now, And think no more of evil thoughts, Than of the wind that waves the bough ? I sin, — and heaven and earth go round. As if no dreadful deed were done, As if Christ's blood had never flowed To hinder sin, or to atone, I walk the earth with lightsome step, Smile at the sunshine, breathe the air, Do my own will, nor ever heed Gethsemane and Thy long prayer. j>4 THE AGONY. Shall it be always thus, Lord ? Wilt Thou not work this hour in me The grace Thy passion merited, Hatred of self and love of Thee ? Ever when tempted, make me see. Beneath the olive's moon-pierced shade. My God, alone, outstretched, and bruised, And bleeding, on the earth He made. And make me feel it was my sin, As though no other sins there were, That was to Him who bears the world A load that He could scarcely bear 1 THE PAIN OF LOVE. TESaS I why dost Thou love me so ? What hast Thou seen in me To make my happiness so great, So dear a joy to Thee ? Wert Thou not God, I then might think Thou hadst no eye to read The badness of that selfish heart, For which Thine own did bleed. But Thou art God, and knowest all ; Dear Lord ! Thou knowest me ; And yet Thy knowledge hinders not Thy love's sweet liberty ^6 THE PAIN OF LOVE. Ah, bow Thy gi^ace hath wooed my soul With persevering wiles ! Now give me tears to weep ; for tears Are deeper joy than smiles. Each proof renewed of Thy great love Humbles me more and more, And brings to light forgotten sins, And lays them at my door. The more I love Thee, Lord ! the more I hate my own cold heart ; The more Thou woundest me with love., The more I feel the smart. What shall I do, then, dearest Lord I Say, shall I fly from Thee, And hide my poor unloving self Where Thou canst never see ? THE PAIN OF LOVE. %? Or shall I pray that Thy dear love To me might not be given ? Ah no ! love must be pain on earUi, If it be bliss in heaveini. JESUS, MY GOD AND MY ALL A JESUS, Jesus ! dearest Lord \ Forgive me if I say For very love Thy sacred Name A thousand times a day. I love Thee so, I know not how My transports to control ; Thy love is like a burning fire Within my very soul. Oh wonderful ! that Thou shouldst let So vile a heart as mine Love Thee with such a love as this, And make so free with Thino. JESUS, MV GOD AND MV ALL. ;;g The craft of this wise world of ours Poor wisdom seems to me ; Ah ! dearest Jesus ! I have grow:; Childish with love of Thee I For Thou to me art all in all, My honour and my wealth, My heart's desu-e, my body's strength, My soul's eternal health. Burn, burn, Love ! within my heart? Burn fiercely night and day. Till all the dross of earthly loves Is burned, and burned away. Light in darkness, Joy in grief, Heaven begun on earth ! Jesus ! my Love ! my Treasure ! who Can tell what Thou art wortli ? fO JESUS, MY GOD AND MY ALL. Jesus ! Jesus ! sweetest Lord ! What art Thou not to me ? Each hour brings joy before unknown, Each day new liberty I What limit is there to thee, love ? Thy flight where wilt thou stay ? On ! on ! our Lord is sweeter far To-day than yesterday. love of Jesus ! Blessed love ! So will it ever be ; Time cannot hold thy wondrous p^rowth, No, aor eternity I TRUE LOVE. ^ Think well how Jesus trusts Himsell Unto our childish love. As though by His free ways with us Our earnestness to prove. God gives Himself as Mary's babe To sinners' trembling arms, And veils His everlasting light In childhood's feeble charms. His sacred Name a common word On earth Ho loves to hear : There is no majesty in Him Which love may not come near 42 TRUE LOVE. The light of love is round His feet^ His paths are never dim ; And He comes nigh to us, when w€ Dare not come nigh to Him. Let us be simple with Him then. Not backward, stiff, or cold, As though our Bethlehem could be What Sinai was of old. His love of us may teach us how To love Him in return ; - Love cannot help but grow more free The mote its transports burn. The solemn face, the downcast eye. The words constrained and cold, — These are the homage, poor at best, Of those outside the fold. TBUE LOVE, 43 They know not how our God can play The Babe's, the Brother's part ; They dream not of the ways He has Of getting at the heart. Most winningly He lowers Himself. Yet they dare not come near ; They cannot know in their blind place The love that casts out fear. In lowest depths of littleness God sinks to gain our love ; They put away the sign in feai And our free ways reprove. Would that they knew what Jesus is And what untold abyss Lies in love's simple forwardness Of more than earthly bliss I 14 TRUE LOVE. They cannot tell how Jesus oft His secret thirst will slake On those strange freedoms, childlike hearts Are taught by God to take. Poor souls ! they know not how to love : They feel not Jesus near ; And they who know not how to love Still less know how to fear. The humbling of the Incarnate Word They have not faith to face ; And how shall they who have not faith Attain love's better grace ? The awe that lies too deep for words^ Too deep for solemn looks, — It finds no way into the face, No written vent in books^ TRUE LOVE. 45 They would not speak in measured tones, If love had in them wroug/it Until their spirits had been hushed In reverential thought. They would have smiled in harmless waye To ease their fevered heart, And learned with other simple souls To play love's crafty part. They would have run away from God For their own vileness' sake, And feared lest some interior light From tell-taie eyes should break. They know not how the outward smile The inward awe can prove ; They fathom not the creature's fear Of Uncreated Love. TRUE LOVE. The majesty of God ne'er broke On them like fire at night, Flooding their stricken souls, while the;y Lay trembling in the light. They love not ; for they have not kissed The Saviour's outer hem : They fear not : tor the Living iiof' is yet unknown to tiiem. VENI SANCTE SPIRITUS. pOME, Holy Spirit ! from the height Of heaven send down Thy blessed light ! Come, Father of the friendless poor 1 Giver of gifts, and Light of hearts. Come with that unction which imparts Such consolations as endure. The soul's refreshment and her guest, Shelter in heat, in labour Rest, The sweetest Solace in our woe ! Come, bHssful Light ! oh come and fill, In all Thy faithful, heart and will, And make our inward fervour glow. ^8 VENI SANCTE SPIRITUS. Where Thou art, Lord ! there is no ill, For evil's self Thy light can kill : Oh let that light upon us rise ! Lord ! heal our wounds, and cleanse oui stains, Fountain of grace ! and with Thy rains Our barren spirits fertilize. Bend with Thy fires our stubborn will, And quicken what the world would chill, And homeward call the feet that stray r Virtue's reward, and final grace. The eternal Vision face to face. Spirit of Love I for these we pray. Patt II. CHRISTIAN lAPK IP- Lf-i I THE GIFTS OF GOD. IVTY soul ! what hast thou done for God ? Look o'er thy misspent years and see ; Sum up whai thou hast done for God, And then what God hath done for thee. He made thee when He might have made A soul that would have loved Him more ; He rescued thee from nothingness, And set thee on life's happy shore. He placed an angel at thy side, And strewed joys round thee on thy way ; He gave thee rights thou couldst not claim, And life, free life, before thee lay. $2 THE GIFTS OF GOt). Had God in heaven no work to do But miracles of love for thee ? No world to rule, no joy in Self, And in His own infinity ? So must it seem to our blind eyes : He gave His love no sabbath rest, Still plotting happiness for men, And new designs to make them blest From out His glorious bosom came His only, His Eternal Son ; He freed the race of Satan's slaves. And with His blood sin's captives won, The world rose up against His love : New love the vile rebellion met. As though God only looked at sin Its guilt to pardon and forget. THE GIFTS OF GOD. 53 For His Eternal Spirit came To raise the thankless slaves to son?, And with the sevenfold gifts of love To crown His own elected ones. Men spurned His grace; their lips blasphemed The Love who made Himself their slave ; They grieved that blessed Comforter, And turned against Him what He gave. Yet still the sun is fair by day, The moon still beautiful by night ; The world goes round, and joy with it, And life, free life, is men's delight. No voice God's wondrous silence breaks, No hand put forth His anger tells ; But He, the Omnipotent and Dread, On high in humblest patience dwelL. 54 THE GIFTS OK GOD. The Son hath come ; and maddened sin The world's Creator crucified ; The Spirit comes, and stays, while men His presence doubt, His gifts deride. Ajid now the Father keeps Himself, In patient and forbearing love. To be His creature's heritage In that undying life above. Oh wonderful, oh passing thought ! — The love that God hath had for thee, Spending on thee no less a sum Than the undivided Trinity I What hast thou done for God, my soul ? Look o'er thy misspent years and see ; Cry from thy worse than nothingnesSj Cry for His mercy upon thee. THE WORK OF GRACEo VrOW the light of heaven is stealing. Gently o'er the trembling soul ; And the shades of bitter feeling From the lightened spirit roll. Sweetly stealing, sweetly stealing See how grace its way is feeling ! Fairer than the pearly morning Comes the softly struggling ray i Ah, it is the ver}^ dawning That precedes eternal day. Sweetly stealing, sweetly gtealin^j See how grace its way is feeling. 56 THE WORK OF GRACE. See the tears, the blessed trouble, Doubts and fears, and hopes and smiles I How the guilt of sin seems double, And how plain are Satan's wiles ! Sweetly stealing, sweetly stealing, See how grace its way is feeling ! Now the hght is growing brighter, Fear of hell and hate of sin ; Another flash ! the heart is lighter ; Love of God hath entered in. Sweetly stealing, sweetly stealing, See how grace its way is feeling. Now upon the favourite passion Falls a steady ray of grace ; And the lights of world and fashion In the new light fade apace. Sweetly stealing, sweetly stealings See how grace its way is feeling. THE WORK OF GRACE. See ! more light ! the spirit tingles With contrition's piercing dart ; — More, — and love divinely mingles Ease and gladness with the smart. Sweetly stealing, sweetly stealing, See how grace its way is feeling ! Free ! free ! the joyous light of heaven Comes with full and fair release ; — God, what light ! all sin forgiven, Jesus, Jesus, love, and peace. Sweetly stealing, sweetly stealing, See bow grace its way is foeliDg I THE END OF T^IAN. I COME to Thee once more, oiy God I No longer will I roam ; For I have sought the wide world through, And never found a home. Though bright and many are the spot? Where I have built a nest, Yet in the brightest still I pined For more abiding rest. Riches could bring me joy and power, And they were fair to see ; Yet gold was but a sorry god To serve instead of Thee. THE END OF MAN. 5q Then honour and the world's good word Appeared a nobler faith ; Yet could I rest on bliss that hung And trembled on a breath ? The pleasure of the passing hour My spirit next could while ; But soon, full soon my heart fell sick Of pleasure's weary smile. More selfish grown, I worshipped health The flush of manhood's power ; But then it came and went so quick, It was but for an hour. And thus a not unkindly world Hath done its best for me ; Yet I have found, God ! no rest. No harbour short of Thee. 60 THE END OF MAfi. For Thou hast made this wondrous soul All for Thyself alone ; Ah ! send Thy sweet transforming grace To make it more i'hme own. INVITATION TO THE MISSION. AH come to the merciful Saviour who calls you, Oh come to the Lord who forgives and forgets ; Though dark be the fortune on earth that befalls you. There's a bright home above where the sun never sets. Oh come then to Jesus, whose arms are ex- tended To fold His dear children in closest em- brace ; 62 INVri'ATION TO THE MISSION. Oh come, for your exile will shortly be ended, And Jesus will show you His beautiful face. Yes, come to the Saviour, whose mercy grows brighter The longer you Iook at the depths of His love ; And fear not ! 'tis Jesus, and life's cares grow Ughter, As you think of the home and the glory above. Have you sinned as none else in the world have before you '? Are you blacker than all other creatures, w guilt ? INVITATION TO THE M 3SION. 63 Oh fear not, and doubt not I the mother who bore you Loves you less tho-n the Saviour whose blood you have gpilt. Oh come then to Jesus, and say how you love Him, And vow at His feet you will keep in His grace ; For one tear that is shed by a sinner can move Him, And your sins will drop oif in His teudei embrace, C^me, come to His feet and lay open your story Of suffering and sorrow, of guilt and of shame ; 64 INVITATION TO THE MISSION. For the pardon of sin is the crown of His glory, And the joy of our Lord to be true to His Name. Come quickly to Jesus for graces and pardons, Come now, for who needs not His mercy and love ? Believe me, dear children, that England's fair gardens Are dull to the bright land that waits you above. COMR TO JESUS. OOULS of men I why will ye scattei Like a crowd of frightened sheep 1 Foolish hearts 1 why will ye wander From a love so true and deep ? Was there ever kindest sheplierd Half so gentle, half so sweet As the Savionr who would have us Come and gather round His feet ? It is God : His love looks mighty, But is mightier than it seems ! 'Tis our Father : and His fondness Goes far out beyond our dreams. F 66 COME TO JESUS. There's a wideness in God's mercy, Like the wideness of the sea : There's a kindness in His justice, Which is more than liberty. There is no place where earth's sorrows Are more felt than up in heaven ; There is no place where earth's failings Have such kindly judgment given. There is welcome for the sinner, And more graces for the good ; There is mercy with the Saviour ; There is healing in His blood. There is grace enough for thousands Of new worlds as great as this ; There is room for fresh creations In that upper home of bliss. COME TO JESUS. 67 For the love of God is broader Than the measures of man's mind ; And the Heart of the Eternal Is most wonderfully kind. But we make His love too narrow By false limits of our own ; And we magnify His strictness With a zeal He will not own. There is plentiful redemption In the blood that has been shed ■ There is joy for all the members In the sorrows of the Head. 'Tis not all we owe to Jesus ; It is something more than all ; Greater good because of evil, Larger mercy through the fall. 68 COME TO JESUS. Pining souls ! come nearer Jesus, And, oh come, not doubting thus, But with faith that trusts more bravely His vast tenderness for us. If our love were but more simple. We should take Him at His wora ; And our lives would be all sunshine In tiie sweetness of our Lord, THE TRUE SHEPHERD. T WAS wandering and weary^ When my Saviour came unto me ; For the ways of sin grew dreary, And the world had ceased to woo me : And I thought I heard Him say, As He came along His way, silly souls ! come near Me ; My sheep should never fear Me ; I am the Shepherd true. At first I would not hearken, And put off till the morrow ; But life began to darken, And I was sick witli sorrow ; 70 THE TRUE SHEPHERD. And 1 thought I heard Him say, As He came along His way, silly souls ! come near Me ; My sheep should never fear Me i I am the Shepherd true. At last I stopped to listen, His voice could not deceive me ; I saw His kind eyes glisten. So anxious to relieve me : And I thought I heard Him say, As He came along His way, silly souls ! come near Mo ; My sheep should never fear Mei I am the Shepherd true. He took me on His shoulder, And tenderly He kissed me ; He bade my love be bolder, And said how He had missed me ; THE TRUE SHEPHERD. fl And I'm sure I heard Him say, &.S He went along His way, silly souls ! come near Me ; My sheep should never fear Me ; I am the Shepherd true. Strange gladness seemed to move Him^ Whenever I did better; And He coaxed me so to love Him, As if He was my debtor ; And I always heard Him say, As He went along His way, silly souls ! come near Me ; My sheep should never fear Me ; I am the Shepherd true. 1 thought His love would weaken. As more and more He knew me ; But it burneth like a beacon, And its light and heat go through uie ; 72 THE TRUE SHEPHERD. And I ever hear Him say, As He goes along His way, silly souls ! come near Me ; My sheep should never fear Me ; I am the Shepherd true. Let us do then, dearest brothers ! What will best and longest please us. Follow not the ways of others, But trust ourselves to Jesus ; We shall ever hear Him say, \s He goes along His way, silly s.'>uls I come near Mo : My sheep should never fear Me ; I am the Shepherd truo. CONYERSION. r\ Faith ! thou workest miracles Upon the hearts of men, Choosing thy home in those same heart We know not how nor when. To one thy grave unearthly truths A heavenly vision seem ; While to another's eye thoy are A superstitious dream. To one the deepest doctrines look So naturally true, That when he learns the lesson first He hardly ^hinks it now. 74 CONVERSION. To other hearts the selfsame truths No light or heat can bring ; They are but puzzling phrases strung Like beads upon a string, gift of gifts ! grace of faith ! My God ! how can it be That Thou, who hast discerning love, Shouldst give that gift to me ? There was a place, there was a time, Whether by night or day, Thy Spirit came and left that gift. And went upon His way. How many hearts Thou mightst have had More innocent than mine, How many souls more worthy far Of that sweet touch of Thine I CONVERSION. 75 Ah grace ! into unlikeliest hearts It is thy boast to come, The glory of thy light to find In darkest spots a home. How can they live, how will they die, How bear the cross of grief, Who have not got the light of faith, The courage of belief? The crowd of cares, the weightiest crose Seem trifles less than light ; Earth looks so little and so low. When faith shines full and bright. happy, happy that I am f If thou canst be, Faith! The treasure that tLou art in life. What wilt thou be in death ? FERFECTIGN. AH how the thought of God attraetg And draws the heart from earth, A.nd sickens it of passing shows And dissipating mirth I *Tis not enough to save our souls, To shun the eternal fires ; The thought of God will rouse the heart To more sublime desires. God only is the crcaturc^s home, Though rough and strait the road, Yet nothing less can satisfy The love that longs for God. PERFECTION. 77 Oh, utter but the Name of God Down in your heart of hearts, And see how from the world at once All tempting light departs. A trusting heart, a yearning eye, Can win their way above ; If mountains can be moved by faith x Is there less power in love ? How little of that road, my soul ! How little hast thou gone ! Take heart, and let the thought of GoQ Allure thee further on. The freedom from ail wilful sin. The Christian's daily task, — Oh these are graces far below What longing love would ask ! 78 PERFECTION. Dole not thy duties out to God, But let thy hand be free : Look long at Jesus ; His sweet blood How was it dealt to thee ? The perfect way is hard to flesh ; It is not hard to love ; If thou wert sick for want oi God, How swiftly woddst thou move ! Then keep thy conscience sensitive ; No inward token miss : And go where grace entices tbee ;— Perfection lies in this. TKE: Wn.L OF GOD. T WORSfflP thee, sweet WUl of God I And all thy ways adore, And every day I live I seem To love thee more and more. Thou wert the end, the blessed rule Of our Saviour's toils and tears ; Thou wert the passion of His heart Those three-and-thirty years. And He hath breathed into my soul A special love of thee, A love to lose my will in His, And by that loss be free. 80 THE WILL OF GOD. I love to see thee bring to nought The plans of wily men ; V/hen simple hearts outwit the wise, Oh thou art loveliest then 1 The headstrong world, it presses hard Upon the Church full oft, And then how easily thou turnst The hard ways into soft. 1 love to kiss each print where thou Hast set thine unseen feet : I cannot fear thee, blessed Will 1 Thine empire is so sweet. When obstacles and trials seem Like prison-walls to be, I do the little I can do, And leave the rest to thee. THE WILL OF GOD, 8l I know not what it is to doubt \ My heart is ever gay ; I run no risk, for come what will Thou always hast thy way. I have no cares, blessed Will ! For all my cares are thine ; I live in triumph, Lord ! for Thou Hast made Thy triumphs mine. And when it seems no chance or change From grief can set me free, Hope finds its strength in helplessness. And gaily waits on Thee. Man's weakness waiting upon God Its end can never miss, For men on earth no work can do More angel-like than this. G THE WILL OF GO!). He always wins who sides with God, To him no chance is lost ; God's Will is sweetest to him wheL It triumphs at his cost. Ill that He blesses is our good, And unblest good is ill ; And all is right that seems most wrong, If it be His sweet Will I SELF-LOVE. " Christ pleased not Himself." — Bomans xv. 3, AH I could go throTigh all life's troubles singicg, Turning earth's nigLt to day, If self were not so fast around mo, clinging To all I do or say. My very thoughts are selfish, always building Mean castles in the air ; I use my love of others for a gilding To make myself look fair. I fancy all the world engrossed with judging M}^ merit or my blame ; Its warmost praise seems an ungracious grudging Of praise which I might claim. 34 SELF-LOVE. Id youth or age, by city, wood, or moun> tain. Self is forgotten never ; \^^here'er we tread, it gushes like a fountain, And its waters flow for ever. Alas ! no speed in life can snatch us wholly Out of self's hateful sight ; And it keeps step, whene'er we travel slowly. And sleeps with us at night. No griefs sharp knife, no pain*s most cruel sawing Self and the soul can sever ; The surface, that in joy sometimes Foemg thawing. Soon freezes worse than ever^ SKLF-LOVE. 85 Thus we are never men, selfs wretched swathing Not letting virtue swell ; Thus is our w^hole life numbed, lor ever bathing Within this I'rozeD well. miserable omnipresence, stretching Over all time and space, How have I run from thee, yet found thee reaching The goal in every race. Inevitable self ! vile imitatiOD Of universal light, — Within our hearts a dreadful usurpation Of God's exclusive right ! 6b SELF-LOVE. The opiate balms of grace may haply still thee, Deep in my nature lying ; For I may hardly hope, alas ! to kill thee, Save by the act of dying, Lord ! that [ could waste my life foi others. With no ends of my own, That I could pour myself into my brothers, And live for them alone I Such was the life Thou livedst ; self abjur- ing, Thine own pains never easing, Our burdens bearing, our just doom enduring, A life without self-pleasing I HARSH JUDGMENTS. A GOD ! whose thoughts are brightest light, Whose love always runs clear, To whose kind wisdom sinning souls Amidst their sins are dear 1 Sweeten my bitter-thoughted heart With charity like Thine, Till self shall be the only spot On earth which does not shine, Hard-heartedness dwells not with souls Round whom Thine arms are drawn ; And dark thoughts fade away in grace, Like cloud-spots in the dawn. S8 HARSH 7UDGMENTS. I often see in my own thouglits, When nearest Thee they lie That the worst men I ever lirew Were better men than !• And of all truths no other truth So true as this one seems ; While others' faults, that plainest were Grow indistinct as dreams. All men look good except ourselves. All but ourselves are great ; The rays, that make our sins so ciearc Their faults obliterate. Things, that appeared undoubted sins. Wear little crowns of light ; Their dark, remaining darkness still, Shames and outshines our bright. HARSH JUDGMENTS. 8^ Time was, when I believed that wrong In others to detect, Was part of genius, and a gift To cherish, not reject. Now better taught by Thee, Lord I This truth dawns on my mind,— The best effect of heavenly light Is earth's false eyes to blind. Thou art the Unapproached, whose heigh; Enables Thee to stoop. Whose holiness bends undefiled To handle hearts that droop. He, whom no praise can reach, is aye Men's least attempts approving ; Whom justice makes all-merciful, Omniscience makes all-loving. 90 HARSH JUDGMENTS. How Thou canst think so well of us, Yet be the God Thou art. Is darkness to my intellect. But sunshine to my heart. Yet habits linger in the soul ; More grace, Lord ! more grace ! More sweetness from Thy loving heart, More sunshine from Thy face ! When we ourselves least kindly are, We deem the world unkind ; Dark hearts, in flowers where honey lies^ Only the poison find. We paint from self the evil things We think that others are; While to the self- despising soul All things but self are fair HARSH JUDGMENTS. Ql Yes, they have caught the way of God, To whom self Hes displayed Iq such clear vision as to cast O'er others' faults a shade. A. bright horizon out at sea Obscures the distant ships ; Sough hearts look smooth and beautiful In charity's eclipse. Love's changeful mood ourneighbour's faulte Overwhelms with burning ray, And in excess of splendour hides What is not burned away. Again, with truth like God's, it shades Harsh things with untrue light. Like moons that make a fairy-land Of fallow fields at ni'^ht. ? IIAKSH JUDGMENTS. Then mercy, Lord ! more mercy stil- Make me all light within, Self-hating and compassionate. And blind to others' sin. I need Thy mercy for my sin ; But more than this I need,— Thy mercy's likeness in my soul For others' sin to bleed. 'Tis not enough to weep my sins ; 'Tis but one step to heaven : When I am kind to others, then I know myself forgiven. Would that my soul might be a world Of golden ether bright, A heaven where other souls might float.. Like all Thy worlds, in light. HARSH JUDGMENTS. QJ All bitterness is from ourselves, All sweetness is from Thee ; Sweet God \ for evermore be Thou Fountain and fire in ina i DISTEACTIONS IN PRAYER A H dearest Lord ! I cannot pray, My fancy is not free ; Unmannerly distractions come, And force my thoughts from Thee. The world that looks so dull all day Glows bright on me at prayer, And plans that ask no thought but then Wake up and meet me there. All nature one full fountain seems Of dreamy sight and sound, Which, when I kneel, breaks up its deep&, And makes a deluge round. til aiRACT IONS JN PRAYER 9$ Old voices inurmnr in my ear, New hopes start into life, And past and future gaily blend In one bewitching strife. My very flesh has restless fits ; My changeful limbs conspire With all these phantoms of the mind My inner self to tire. I cannot pray; yet, Lord ! Thou knowst The pain it is to me To have my vainly struggling thought Thus torn away from Thee. Prayer was not meant for luxury, Or selfish pastime sweet ; It is the prostrate creature's place At his Creator's feet. ^6 DISTRACTIONS IN PRAYER, Had I, dear Lord ! no pleasure found But in the thought of Thee, Prayer would have come unsought, and been A truer libeiiiy. Yet Thou art oft most present, Lord ! In weak distracted prayer ; A sinner out of heart with self Most often finds Thee there. For prayer that humbles, sets the soul From all illusions free, And teaches it how utterly, Dear Lord ! it hangs on Thee. My Saviour ! why should I complain, And why fear aught but sin ? Distractions are but outward things i Thy peace dwells far within. DISTRACTIONS IN PRAYER. These surface-troubles come and go, Like rufflings of the sea ; The deeper depth is out of reach To ail, my God, but Thee. DRYNESS IN PRAYER. f\ll for the liappy days gone by, When love ran smooth and freftj Days when my spirit so enjoyed More than earth's liberty I Oh for the times when on my heart Long prayer had never palled, Times when the ready thought of God Would come when it was called I Then when I knelt to meditate, Sweet thoughts came o'er my soal, Countless and bright and beautiful, Beyond my own controL DRYNESS TN PRAYER. Oq What can have locked those fountahiS up ? Those visions wliat hath stayed ? What sudden act hath thus transformed My sunshine into shade ? This freezing heart, Lord ! this will Dry as the desert sand, Good thoughts that will not come, bad thoughts That come without command, — A faith that seems not faith, a hope That cares not for its aim, A love that none the hotter grows At Thy most blessed Name, — If this dear change be Thine, Lord I If it be Thy sweet will. Spare not, but to the very brim The bitter chalice fill. lOO DRYNESS IN PRAYER. But if it hath been sin of mine, Then show that sin to me, Not to get back the sweetness lost, But to make peace with Thee. One thing alone, dear Lord ! I dread ;— To have a secret spot That separates my soul from Thee. And yet to know it not For when the tide of graces set So full upon my heart, I know, dear Lord ! how faithlessly I did my little part. I know how well my heart hath earned A chastisement like this, In trifling many a grace away Li self-complacent hli^" DRYNESS IN PRAYER. But if this weariness hath come A present from on high, Teach me to find the hidden wealth That in its depths may lie. So in this darkness I may learn To tremble and adore, To sound my own vile nothingness, And thus to love Thee more, — To love Thee, and yet not to think That I can love so much, — Td have Thee with me, Lord ! all day. Yet not to feel Thy touch. If I have served Thee, Lord ! for hire, Hire which Thy beauty showed. Can I not serve Thee now for nought. And only as my God ? SWEETNESS IN PRAYER. TITHY dost thou beat so quick, my heart Why struggle in thy cage ? What shall I do for thee, poor heart 1 Thy throbbing heat to swage ? What spell is this come over thee, My soul ! what sweet surprise ? A.nd wherefore these unbidden tears That start into mine eyes ? How great, how good does God appear, How dear our holy faith, How tasteless life's best joys have grows How I could welcome death I SWElLTiNEbS IN PRAYER. I Thy sweetness hath betrayed Thee, Lord ! Dear Sphit ! it is Thou ; Deeper and deeper in my heart I feel Thee nestling now. Whence Thou hast come I need not ask i But, dear and gentle Dove ! Oh wherefore hast Thou lit on one That so repays Thy love ? Would that Thou mightest stay with ms. Or else that I might die, While heart and soul are still subdued With Thy sweet mastery. Thy home is with the humble, Lord I The simple are Thy rest ; Thy lodging is in child-like hearts ; Thou rnakest there Thy nest. r04 SWEETNESS IN PRAYER, Dear Comforter ! Eternal Love 1 If Thou wilt stay with me, Of lowly thoughts and simple ways I'll build a nest for Thee. My heart, sweet Dove I I'll lend to Thee To mourn with at Thy will ; My tongue shall be Thy lute to try On sinners' souls Thy skill. How silver-like Thy plumage is, Thy voice how grave, how gay! Ah me ! hoYf I shall miss Thee, Lord I Then promise me to stay. Whc iiade this beating heart of mine, But 'ihou, my heavenly Guest ? Let no one have it then but Thee, And let it be Thv nest. PEEVISHNESS. A GOD ! that I could be with thee, AloDe by some sea-sJiore, And hear Thy soundless voice within, And the outward waters roar. The cold wet wind would seem to wash The world from off my brow, And I should feel amidst the storm That none were near but Thou. Each wave that broke upon the rockg Would seem to break on mo : And he who stands an outward shock Gains inward liberty. V06 PEEVISHNESS. Upon the wings of wild sea-birds, My dark thoughts would I laj , And let them bear them out to sea, In the tempest far away. For b'fe has grown a simple weight j Each effort seems a fall ; And all things weary me on earth, But good things most of all. And I am deadly sick of men, From shame, and not from pride ; My love of souls, my joy in saints, Are blossoms that have died. It seems as if I loathed the earth, And yet craved not for heaven, But for another nature longed. Not that w^hich Thou hast given. PEEVISHNESS. 40J For goodness all ignoble seemR, Ungenerous and small, And the holy are so wearisome, Their very virtues pall. Alas ! this peevishness with good Is want of love of God ; Unloving thoughts within distort The look of things abroad. The discord is within, which jars So sadly in life's song : 'Tis we, not they, who are in fault, When others seem so wrong. 'Tis we who weigh upon ourselves ; Self is the irksome weight : To those, who can see straight tbemselvcfc All things look always straight. f08 PEEVISHNESS. My God ! with what surpassing love Thou lovest all on earth, How good the least good is to Thee, How much each soul is worth ! I seem to think if I could spend One hour alone with Thee, My human heart would come again From Thy Divinity, And yet I cannot build a cell, For Thee within my heart, And meet Thee, as Thy chosen do, Where Thou most truly art. The bright examples round me seem My dazzled eyes to hurt ; Thy beauty, which they should reflect, They dwindle and invert. PEEVISHNESS. lOQ Therefore I crave for scenes which might My fettered thoughts unbind, And v^here the elements might be Like scapegoats to my mind, Where all things round should loudly tell, Storm, rocks, seabirds, and sea, Not of Thy worship, but much more, Aiid only, Lord 1 of Thee. LOW SPIRITS, TpEVER, and fret, and aimless stir^ And disappointed strife, Ml chafing unsuccessful things, Make up the sum of life. Love adds anxiety to toil, And sameness doubles cares, While one unbroken chain of work The flagging temper wears. The light and air are dulled with smoke ; The streets resound with noise ; And the soul sinks to see its peers Chasing their joyless joys. LOW SPIRITS. I I Voices are round me ; smiles are near ; Kind welcomes to be had ; And yet my spirit is alone, Fretful, outworn, and sad, A weary actor, I would fain Be quit of my long part ; The burden of unquiet life Lies heavy on my heart. Sweet thought of God! now do thy wor>. As thou hast done before ; Wake up, and tears will wake with thee And the dull mood bo o'er. The very thinking of the thought, Without or praise or prayer, Gives light to know, and life to do, And marvellous strenf^^th to bear. 112 LOW SPIRITS. Oh there is music in that thought Unto a heart unstrunfj^ like sweet bells at the evening-time Most musically rung. 'Tis not His justice or His power j Beauty or blest abode, But the mere unexpanded thought Of the Eternal God. It is not of His wondrous works, Nor even that He is ; Words fail it, but it is a thought Which by itself is bliss. Sweet thought ! lie closer to my hear! That 1 may feel thee near, A.S one who for his weapon feels In some nocturnal fear. LOW sriRiTS. in Mostly in hours of gloom thou com'st, When sadness makes us lowly, As though thou wert the echo sweet Of humble melancholy. X bless Thee, Lord ! for this kind check To spirits over-free. And for all things that make me feel More helpless need of Thee. iLOl -I ■ :;i THE UNBELIEVING WORLD. A LORD ! when I look o'er the wide spreading world, How lovely and yet how unhappy it seems, How full of realities, pure and divine, Yet how bent on unworshipful dreams I My heart swells within me with thankfullest joy For the faith which to me Thou hast given ; For in all Thine amazing abundance of gifts, Thou hast no better "ift short of heaven. tf8 THE UNBELIEVING WORLD. There was darkness in Egypt while Israel had sun, And the songs in the com fields of Goshen were gay, And the chosen that dwelt *mid the heathen moved on. Each threading the gloom with his own private day. Ah! so is it now v^th the Church of Thy choice ; Her lands He in light which to worldlings seems dim ; And each child of that Church, who mnst live in dark realms, Has a sun o'er his head which is only for him. THE UNBELIEVING WORLD. I <9 Yet it grieves me too, Lord ! that so many should wander, Should see nought before them but desolate night, That men should be walled in with darkness around them, When within and without there is nothing but light. But still more I grieve for Thy glory, Lord I That the world should be only an Egypt for Thee, That the bondsmen of error should boast cl thek chains. And scoflf at the love that would fain set them free. 120 THE UNBELIEVING WORLD. But we who have light, we must make oui light brighter, A.nd thus show our love to Thee, Lord I for Thy gift; The faith Thou hast sent ns our love can make greater, And almost to sight our believing can lift. Faith is sweetest of worships to Him who so loves His unbearable splendours in darkness to hide; A.nd to trust to Thy word, dearest Lord I is true love, For those prayers are most granted which seem most denied. THE UNBELIEVING WORLD. 121 Oh, why hast Thou made then faith's field aU so narrow, Nor multiplied objects for childlike be- Uef; For faith, though it is such a beautiful worship, [s but earth's span of heaven, too fleeting, and brief. Thou hast dealt better measure to hope than to faith ; Hope can hope for no more, since it hopes Lord ! for Thee ; Nought is lacking to love which has fastened on God; It is love lost in love like a drop in tho sea. r22 THE UNBELIEVING WORLD. But faith throws her arms around all Thou hast told her, And, ahle to hold as much more, can bu grieve ; She could hold Thy grand Self, Lord! U Thou w^ouldst reveal it, And love makes her long to have more to beiidvd. THE SORROWFUL WORLD. r HEARD the wild beasts in the woods complain ; Some slept, while others wakened to sustain Through night and day the sad monotonous round, Half savage and half pitiful the sound. The outcry rose to God through all the air, The worship of distress, an animal prayer, Loud vehement pleadings, not unlike to those Job uttered in his agony of woes. The very pauses, when they came, were rife With sickening sounds of too successful strif. . As, when the clash of battle dies away, The groans of night succeed the 3hrieks of d.u f24 THE SORROWFUL WORLD. Man's scent the untamed creatures scarce can bear, As if his tainted blood defiled the air ; In the vast woods they fret as in a cage, Or fly in fear, or gnash theii' teeth with rage. The beasts of burden linger on their way, Like slaves who will not speak when they obey; Their faces, when their looks to us they raise, With something of reproachful patience gaze. All creatures round us seem to disapprove , Their eyes discomfort us with lack of love ; Our very rights, with signs like these alloyed, JJot without sad misgivings are enjoyed. IHE SORROWFUL WORLD. !25 Earth seems to make a sound in places lone, Sleeps through the day, but wakes at night to moan, Shunning our confidence, as if we were A guilty burden it could hardly bear. The winds can never sing but they must wail ; Waters lift up sad voices in the vale ; One mountain-hollow to another calls With broken cries of plaining waterfalls. Silence itself is but a heaviness. As if the earth were fainting in distress, Like one who wakes at night in panic fears, And nought but his own beating pulses hears Inanimate things can rise into despair ; And, when the thunders bellow in the air Amid the mountains, earth sends forth a cry, Like dying monsters in their agony. 126 THE SORRCWTUL WORLD, The sea, unmated creature, tired and lone, Makes on its desolate sands eternal moan : Lakes on the calmest days are ever throbbin^q Upon theirpebbly shores with petulant sobbing. O'er the white waste, cold grimly overawes And hushes life beneath its merciless laws ; Invisible heat drops down from tropic skies, And o'er the land, like an oppression, lies. The clouds in heaven their placid motions borrow Froi^ the funereal tread of men in sorrow ; Or, when they scud across the stormy day, Mimic the flight of hosts in disarray. Mostly men's many- featured faces wear Looks of fixed gloom, or else of restless care , The very babes, that in their cradles lie. Out of the depths of unknown troubles cry. THE SORROWFUL WORLD. 12') Labour itself is but a sorrowful song, The protest of the weak against the strong ; Over rough waters, and in obstinate fields, And from dank mines, the same sad sound it yields. God ! the fountain of perennial gladness ! Thy whole creation overflows with sadness ; Sights, sounds, are full of sorrow and alarm ; Even sweet scents have but a pensive charm. Doth earth send nothing up to Thee but moans ? Father ! canst Thou find melody in groans ? Oh can it be, that Thou, the God of bliss, Canst feed Thy glory on a world like this ? 128 THE SORROWFUL WORLD. Ah me ! that sin should have such chemic po\\'ei To turn to dross the gold of nature's dower, And straightway, of its single self, unbind The eternal vision of Thy jubilant Mind I Alas ! of all this sorrow there is need ; For us earth weeps, for us the creatures bleed : Thou art content, if all this woe imparts The sense of exile to repentant hearts. Yes ! it is well for us : from these alarms, Like children scared, we fly into Thine arms ; And pressing sorrows put our pride to rout With a swift faith which has not time to doubt. We cannot herd in peace with wild beasts rude We dare not live in nature's solitude ; In how few eyes of men can we behold Enough of love to make us calm and bold 9 IHE SORROWFUL WORLD. 1 29 Oh it is well for us : with angry glance Life glares at us, or looks at us askance : Seek where we will, — Father 1 we see it now,— None love us, trust us, welcome us, but Thou 1 THE WOIiLi>, A JESUS ! if in days gone by My heart hath loved the world too well, It needs more love for love of Thee To bid this cherished world farewell. Earth ! thou art too beautiful, And thou, dear Home ! thou art too sweet. The winning ways of flesh and blood Too smooth for sinners' pilgrim feet. The woods and flowers, and running streams. The sunshine of the common skies, The round of household peace — what heart But owns the might of these dear ties ? THE WORLi.. 131 The sweetness of known faces is A couch where weary souls rqpose ; Known voices are as David's harp Bewitching Saul's oppressive woes. And yetj bright World ! thou art not wise ; Oh no ! enchantress though thou art, Thou art not skilful in thy way Of dealing with a wearied heart. If thou hadst kept thy faith with me, I might have been thy servant still ; But slighted love and broken faith, Poor World ! these are beyond thy skill. Oh bless thee, blessthee, treacherous World I That thou dost play so false a part, And drive, like sheep into the fold, Our loves into our Saviour's heart. 132 »UH WORLD. This have I leaned upon, sweet Lord I This world hath had Thy rightful place ; But come, dear jealous King of love ! Conie, and begin Thy reign of grace. THE RIGHT MUST WIN. AH it is hard to work for God, To rise and take His part Upon this battlefield of earth, And not sometimes lose heart ! He hides Himself so wondrously, As though there were no God ; He is least seen when all the powen Of ill are most abroad. Or He deserts ns at the hour The fight is all but lost ; And seems to leave us to ourselves Just when we need Him most. 1 34 THE RIGHT A'TJST WIN. Yes, there is less to try our faith. In our mysterious creed, Than in the godless look of earth, In these our hours of need. Ill masters good ; good seems to change To ill with greatest ease ; 4nd, worst of all, the good with good Is at cross purposes. It is not so, but so it looks ; And we lose courage then ; And doubts will come if God hath kept His promises to men. Ah ! God is other than we think ; His ways are far above, Far beyond reason's height, and reached Only by childlike love. THE RIGHT MUST WIN. I35 The look, the fashion of God's ways Lovo's lifelong study are ; She can be bold, and guess, and act, When reason would not dare. She has a prudence of her own ; Her step is firm and free ; Yet there is cautious science too In her simplicity. Workmen of God ! oh lose not heartj But learn what God is like ; And in the darkest battlefield Thou shalt know where to strike. Thrice blest is he to whom is given The instinct that can tell That God is on the field when He Is most invisible. 136 THE RIGHT MUST WIN, Blest too is he who can divine Where real right doth lie, And dares to take the side that seems^ Wrong to man's blindfold eye. Then learn to scorn the praise of men, And learn to lose with God ; For Jesus won the world through shame And beckons thee His road. God's glory is a wondrous thing, Most strange in all its ways, And, of all things on earth, least like What men agree to praise. As He can endless glory weave From what men reckon shamOs In His own world He is content To play a losing game. THE RIGHT MUST WIN. f 3!? Muse on His justice, dowDcasl soul ! Muse and take better heart ; Back with thine angel to the field, And bravely do thy part. God's justice is a bed, where we Our anxious hearts may lay, And, weary with ourselves, may sleep Our discontent away. For right is right, since God is God ; And right the day must win ; To doubt would be disloyalty, To falter would be sic. THE STARRY SKIES. ^THE starry skies, they rest my soul^ Its chains of care unbind, And with the dew of coolino^ thoughts Refresh my sultry mind. And, like a bird amidst the boughs, I rest, and sing, and rest. Among those bright dissevered worlds. As safe as in a nest. And oft I think the starry sprays Swing with me where I light. While brighter branches lure m'* o'er New gulfs of purple night. THE STARRY SKIES. IJf Yes, something draws me upward there As morning draws the lark ; Only my spell, whatever it is, Works better in the dark. It is as if a home was there, To which my soul was turning, A home not seen, but nightly prove:^ By a mysterious yearning. It seems as if no actual space Could hold it in its bond ; Thought climbs its highest, still it is Always beyond, beyond. Earth never feels like home, though fresfc And full its tide of mirth ; No glorious change we can conceive Would make a home of earth. 14© THE STARRY SKIES. But God alone can be a home ; And His sweet Vision lies Somewhere in that soft gloom concealeo Beyond the starry skies. So, as if waiting for a voice, Nightly I gaze and sigh, While the stars look at me silently Out of their silent sky. How have I erred ! God is my home, And God Himself is here ; Why have I looked so far for Him Who is nowhere but near ? Oh not in distant starry skies, In vastness not abroad. But everywhere in His whole Self Abides the whole of God. THE STARRY SKIES. I4I In golden presence not dilTused, Not in vague fields of bliss, But whole in every present point The Godhead simply is. Down in earth's duskiest vales, where'er My pilgrimage may be, Thou, Lord ! wilt be a ready home Always at hand for me. I spake : but God was nowhere seen ; Was His love too tired to wait ? , Ah no ! my own unsimple love Hath often made me late. How often things already won It urges me to win. How often makes me look outbide Ti'or th8> which is witbiji ' r42 THE STARRY SKIES. Our souls go too much out of self Into ways dark and dim : 'Tis rather God who seeks for us, Than we who seek for Him. Yet surely through my tears I saw God softly drawing near ; How came He without sight or sound So soon to disappear ? God was not gone : but He so longed His sweetness to impart, He too was seeking for a home, And found it in my heart. Twice had I erred : a distant Gou Was what I could not bear ; Sorrows and cares were at my side ; I longed to have Him there. THE SIAilRY SKiEci. l^j But God is never so far off As even to be near ; He is within : our spirit is The home He holds most dear. To think of Him as by our side Is almost as untrue, A.S to remove His throne beyond Those skies of starry blue. So all the while I thought myself Homeless, forlorn, and weary, Missing my joy, I walked the earti? Myself God's sanctuary. EVENING HYMN. O WEET Saviour ! bless us ere we go ; Thy words into our minds instill ; And make our lukewarm hearts to glow With lowly love and fervent will. Through life's long day and death's dark night, gentle Jesus ! be our light. The day is done ; its hours have run ^ And Thou hast taken count of all, The scanty triumphs grace hath won, The broken vow, the frequent fall. Through life's long day and death's dark night, gentle Jesiis I be our light. EVENING HYMN. i^S Grant us, dear Lord ! from evil ways True absolution and release ; And bless us more than in past days With purity and inward peace. Through Iife*s long day and death's dark night, gentle Jesus ! be our light. Do more than pardon ; give us joy, Sweet fear and sober liberty, A.nd loving hearts without alloy, That only long to be like Thee. Through life's long day and death's dark night, gentle Jesus ! be our light. Labour i? sweet, for Thou hast toiled, And care is light, for Thou hast cared ; \jei not our works with self be soiled, Nor in unsimple ways ensnared. L 146 EVENING HYMN. Through life's long day and death's dark night, gentle Jesus ! be our light. For all we love, the poor, the sad, The sinful, — unto Thee we call ; Oh let Thy mercy make us glad ; Thou art our Jesus and our All. Through life's long day and death's aar^ night, gentle Jesus 1 be our light A COTTAaER'S CHILD. T MET a child, and kissed it ; who shall say I stole a joy in which I had no part ? The happy creature from that very day Hath felt the more his little human heart. Now when I pass he runs away and smiles, And tries to seem afraid with pretty wiles. I am a happier and a richer man, Since I have sown this new joy in the earth : 'Tis no small thing for us to reap stray mirth In every sunny wayside whcro we can. 148 A COTTAGER'S CHILn. It is a joy to ire to be a joy, Which may in the most lowly heart tafe^' root ; And it is gladness to that little boy To look out for me at the mountain foci MI3SIC. rilHAT music breathes all througli my spirit As the breezes blow through a tree ; And my soul gives light as it quivers, Like moons on a tremulous sea. New passions are wakened within me, New passions that have not a name 5 Dim truths that I knew but as phantoms Stand up clear and bright in the flame. And my soul U possessed with yearnings Which make my life broaden and sv/ell ; And 1 hear strange things that arc soundless, Aiid I see the iuvisiblo* 150 MUSIC oil silence tliat clarion in mercy,—* For it carries my soul away ; And it whirls my thoughts out beyond me, Like the leaves on an autumn day, exquisite tyranny ! silence,— My soul slips from under my hand, And as if by instinct is fleeing To a dread unvisited land. Is it sound, or fragrance, or vision ? Vocal light wavering down from above f Past prayer and past praise I am floating Down the rapids of speechless love. 1 strove, but the sweet sounds have con- quered : Within me the Past is awake ; The Present is grandly transfigured ; The Future is clear as day-break. MUSIC. 151 Nov/ Past» Present, Future have mingled A new sort of Present to make ; And my life is all disembodied, Without time, without space, without break. But my soul seems floating for ever In an orb of ravishing sounds, Through faint-falling echoes of heavens, 'Mid beautiful earths without bounds. Now sighing, as zephyrs in summer, The concords glide in like a stream. With a sound that is almost a silence, Or the soundless sounds m a dream. Then oft, when the music is faintest, My soul has a storm in its bowers, Like the thunder among the mountains, Like the wind in the abbey towers. t5i MUSIC. There are sounds, like flakes of snow falling In their silent and eddying rings ; We tremble, — they touch us so lightly, Like the feathers from angels' wings There are pauses of marvellous sileneej That are full of significant sound, Like music echoing music Under water or under ground That clarion again ! through what valleys Of deep inward life did it roll, Ere it blew that astonishing trumpet Right down in the caves of my soui '? My mind is bewildered with echoes, — Not all from the sweet sounds without , But spirits are answering spirits In a beautiful muffled shout. MUSIC. 153 Oh cease then, wild horns ! I am famting ; If ye wail so, my heart will break ; Some one speaks to me in your speaking In a language I cannot speak. Though the sounds ye make are all foreign, How native, how household they are ; The tones of old homes mixed with heaven, The dead and the angels, speak there. Dear voices that long have been silenced, Come clear from their peaceable land, Come toned with unspeakable sweetness From the Presence in which they stand. Or is music the inarticulate Speech of the angels on earth ? Or the voice of the Undiscovered Bringing great truths to the bhrth ? *54 MUSIC. music ! thou surely art wcrsiiip ; But thou art not like praise or prayei ; And words make better thanksgiving Than thy sweet melodies are. There is m tnee another worship, An outflow of something divine 5 For the voice of adoring silence, If it could be a voice, were thine. Thcu art fugitive splendours made vocaL As they glanced from that shining sea Where the Vision is visible music, Making music of spirits who see. Thou, Lord ! art the Father of music ; Sweet sounds are a whisper from Thee ; Thou hast made Thy creation all anthems, Though it singeth them silently. MUSIC. 15$ But I guess by the stir of this music What raptures in heaven can be, Where the sound is Thy marvellous stillness, And the musie is light out of Theg, SUNDAY. mHERE is a Sabbath wOn for a*. A Sabbath stored above, A service of eternal calm, An altar-rite of love. There is a Sabbath won for u& Whdre we shall ever wait In mute or voiceful ministries Upon the Immaculate. There shall transfigured souls be filled With Christ's eternal name, Dipped, like bright censers, in the feefc Of molten glass and flame. SUNDAY. 157 Yet set not in thy thoughts too far Our heaven and earth apart, Lest thou shouldst wrong the heaven be^nn Already in thy heart. Though heaven *s ahove and earth 's below Yet are they but one state, And each the other with sweet skill Doth interpenetrate. Yea, many a tie and office blest; In earthly lots uneven, Hath an immortal place to fill. And is the root of heaven. And surely Sundays bright and calm, So calm, so bright as this, Are tastes imparted from above Of higher Sabbath bliss, 158 SUNDAY, We own no gloomy ordinance, No weary Jewish day, But weekly E asters, ever bright With pure domestic ray ; A feast of thought, a feast of sight A feast of joyous sound, A feast of thankful hearts, at rest* From labour's wheel unbound ; A day of such homekeeping bliss As on the poor may wait. With all such lower joys as best Befit his human state. He sees among the hornbeam boughf The little sparkling flood ; The mill-wheel rests, a quiet thing Of black and monsy wood. SUNDAY. 159 He sees the fields lie in the sun, He hears the plovers crying ; The plough and harrow, both upturned Are in the furrows lying. In simple faith, he may believe That earth's diurnal way Doth, like its blessed Maker, pause Upon this hallowed day. And should he ask, the happy man } If heaven be aught like this ; — 'Tis heaven within him, breeding there The love of quiet bliss. Oh leave the man, my fretful friend ? To follow nature*s ways, Nor breathe to him that Christian feasts Are DO true holy days. litO SUNDAY. Is earth to be as nothing here^ When we are sons of earth ? May not the body and the heart Share in the spirit's mirth ? When thou hast cut each earthly hold Whereto his soul may cling, Will the poor creature left behind Be more a heavenly thing ? Heaven fades av/ay before our eyes, Heaven fades within our heart, Because in thought our heaven and earth Are cast too far apart. THE OLD LABOURER. WHAT end doth lie fulfil ? He seems without a will, Stupid, unhelpful, helpless, age-worn man ! He hath let the years pass ; He hath toiled, and heard Mass, Done what he could, and now does what bs can. And this forsooth is all I A plant or animal Hath a more positive work to do than he : Along his daily beat, Delighting in the heat. He crawls in sunshine which he does tot eeo. Ifcj THE OLD LABOURER. What do til God get from him ? His very mind is dim, Too weak to love, and too obtuse to fear. Is there glory in his strife ? Is there meaning in his life ? Can God hold such a thing-like person dear ? Peace ! he is dying now ; No light is on his brow ; He makes no sign, but without sign departs The poor die often so, — And yet they long to go. To take to God their over- weighted Leans. Born only to endure, The patient passive poor Seem useful chiefly by their multitude ; For they are men who keep Their lives secret and deep ; iias ! the poor are seldom understood. THE OLD LABOUREIL lOj This labourer that is gone Was childless and alone, And homeless as his Saviour was before him ; He told in no man's ear His longing, love, or fear, Nor what he thought of life as it passed o'er him. He had so long been old, His heart was close and cold ; He had no love to take, no love to give ; Men almost wished him dead ; *Twas best for him, they said ; Twas such a weary sight to see him live He walked with painful stoop As if life made him droop, ;64 THE OLD LABOURER. And care had fastened fetters round his feet ; He saw no bright blue sky, Except what met his eye Reflected fiom the ram-pools in the street. To whom was he of good ? He slept and he took food, He used the earth and air, and kindled fire : He bore to take relief, Less as a right than grief ; — To what might such a soul as his aspire ? His inexpressive eye Peered round him vacantly, As if whate er ne did he would be chidden ; He seemed a mere growth of earth ; Yet even he had mhth, As the great angeis have, untold and hidden. THE OLD LABOURER. 165 Alway his downcast eye Was laughing silently. As if he found some jubilee in thinking ; For his one thought was God, In that one thought he abode, For ever in that thought more deeply sinking Thus did he live his life, A kind of passive strife, Upon the God within his heart relying ; Men left him all alone, Because he was unknown, But he heard the angels sing wlion ho wag dying. God judges by a light Which baiHos mortal sight, 166 THE OLD LABOURER. And the useless-seeming man the crown hath won : In His vast world above, A world of broader love, God bath some grand employment for His son. THE LAST TlilNCJS r All S WISHES ABOUT DEATH. f WISH to have no wishes left. But to leave all to Thee ; And yet I wish that Thou shouldst wiii Things that I wish should be. And these two wills I feel within, When on my death I muse : But, Lord ! I have a death to die, And not a death to chooso. Why should I choose ? for in Thy love Most surely I descry A gentler death than I myself Should d;ire to ask to die. 170 WISHES ABOUT DEATH, But Thou wilt not disdain to hear What those few wishes are, Which I abandon to Thy love, And to Thy wiser care. All graces I would crave to hava Calmly absorbed in one, — A perfect sorrow for my sina^ And duties left undone. I would the light of reason. Lord \ Up to the last might shine, 'hat my own hands might hold my soui Until it passed to Thine. i But when, and where, and by what pain,~ All this is one to me ; I only long for such a death As most shall honour TheOc WISHES ABOUT DEATH. Long life dismays me, by the sensa Of my own weakness scared : And by Thy grace a sudden death Need not. be unprepared-. THE PATHS OF DEATH. rrOW pleasant are thy paths, Death ! Like the bright slanting west, Thou leadest down into the glow Where all those heaven- bound sunsets go, Ever from toil to rest. How pleasant are thy paths, Death ! Back to our own dear dead, Into that land which hides in tombs The better part of our old homes : 'Tis there thou mak*st our bed. THE PATHS OF DKATH. I73 How pleasant are thy paths, Death I Thither where sorrows cease, To a new life, to an old past, Softly and silently we haste, Into a lund of peace. How pleasant are thy paths, Death ! Thy new restores our lost ; There are voices of the new times With the ringing of the old chimes Blent sweetly on thy coast. How pleasant are thy paths, Death ! One faint for want of breath, — And above thy promise thou hast given ■ All, we find more than all in heaven, thou truth-speaking Death I 174 THE PATHS OF DFATH. How pleasant are thy paths, Death I E'en children after play- Lie down, without the least alarm. And sleep, in thy maternal arm. Their little life away. How pleasant are thy paths, Death ! E'en grown-up men secure Better manhood, by a brave leap Through the chill mist of thy thin sleep,- Manhood thai will endure. How pleasant are thy paths, Death ; The old, the very old, Smile when their slumberous eye grows dim, Smile when they feel thee touch each limb, Their age was not less cold. THE PATHS OF DEA'lTI. I'j^ How pleasant are tiiy paths, Death ! Ever from pain to ease ; Patience, that hath held on for years, Never unlearns her humble fears Of terrible disease. How pleasant are thy paths, Death ! From sin to pleasing God ; For the pardoned in thy land are bright As innocence in robe of white, And walk on the same road. How pleasant are thy paths, Death ! Straight to our Father's Home ; All loss were gain that gained us this, The sight of God, that single bliss Of the grand world to come. 176 THE PATHS OF DEATH. How pleasant are thy paths, Death I Ever from toil to rest, — Where a rim of sea-like splendour runs, Where the days bury their golden suas, \n Ihe dear hopeful weil I A CHILD'S DEATH rTHOU touchest us lightly. God! in oui grief ; But how rough is Thy touch in our prosperous hours ! All was bright, but Thou earnest, so dreadful and brief, Like a thunderbolt failing in c^ardens of flowers. My children ! my children ! thoy clustered all round me. Like a rampart which sorrow could nevei break through ; N 178 A child's death. Each change in then- beautiful lives onl^ bound me In a spell of delight which no care could undo. B«t the eldest ! Father ! how glorious he was. With the soul looking out through his foun- tain-like eyes : Thou lovest Thy Sole-born ! And had I not cause The treasure Thcu gavest me, Father I tc prize ? But the lily-bed lies beaten down by the rain, And the tallest is gone from the place where he grew ; My tallest ! my fairest ! Oh let me complain ; For all life is unroofed, and the tempests beat ihrough. A CHILD S DEATH. 179 I murmur not, Father ! My will is with Thee; I knew at the first that my darling was Thine : Hadst Thou taken him earlier, Father I — but see I Thou hadst left him so long that I dreamed he was mine. Thou hast talcen the fairest : he was fairest to me ; Thou hast taken the fairest : *tis always Thy way; Thou hast taken the dearest : was he dearest to Thee ? Thou art welcome, thrice welcome : — yet vvo( is the day I l80 A CHILD'S DEATH. Thou hast honoared my child by the speed of Thy choice, Thou hast crowned him with glory, over- whelmed him v;ith mirth : He sings up in heaven with his sweet-sound- ing voice, While I, a saint's mother, am weepmg on earth. Yet oh for that voice, which is thrilling through heaven, One moment my ears with its music to slake ! Oh no ! not for worlds would I have him re- given, Yet I long to nave back what 1 would not ro-taks. A CHILD'S DEATH. iRl I grudge him, and grudge "him not ! Father ) Thou knowest The foolish confusions of innocent sorrow ; It is thus in Thy husbandry, Saviour 1 Thou sowest The grief of to-day for the grace of to-morrow. Thou art blooming in heaven, my blossom, my pride ! And thy beauty makes Jesus and angels more glad: Saints' mothers have suncr when their eldest born died, Oh why, my own saint ! is thy mother so sad ? Go, go with thy God, with thy Saviour, my child I Thou art His ; I am His ; and thy sisters art His: 1 82 A CHILD'S DEAIH. But to-day thy fond mother witn sorrow ih wild, — To think that her son is an angei m bliss ! Oh forgive me, dear Saviour I on heaven's bright shore Should I still in my child find a separate joy : While I lie in the light of Thy face evermore, May I think Jiuavtin Dngater Decaus© oX my AFTER A DEATH. HTHE giief that was delayed so long Lord ! hath come at last : Blest be Thy Name for present pain, And for the weary past ! Yet, Father ! I have looked so long Upon the coming grief, That what should grieve my heart the most Seems almost like relief. Alas ! then, did I love the dead As well as he loved me ? Or have I sought myself alone Rather than him, or Thee ? r84 AFTER A DEATH. To fear is harder than to weep^ To watch than to endure ; The hardest of all griefs to bear Is a grief that is not sure. As on a watchtower did I stand, Lake one that looks in fear, And sees an overwhelming host O'er hill and dale draw near. The bitterness each day brought forth Was more than I could bear^ And hope's uncertainty was worse Than positive despair. V grew more unprepared for griet Which had so long been stayed ; The blow seemed more impossible The more it was delayed. AFTER A DEATH. I85 Yes ! the most sudden of onr griefs Are those which travel slow; The longer warning that it gives, The deeper is the woe. To look a sorrow in the face False magnitude imparts ; All sorrows look immensely large Unto our little hearts. But to look long upon a grief, Which is so long in sight, Unmans the heart more terribly Than a sudden death at mgh\ A swift and unexpected blow, If hard to bear, is brief; But oh ! it is less sudden far Than a quiet creeping grief. l86 AFTER A DEATH. Least griefs are more than we can bear, Each worse than those before ; Our own griefs always greater griefs Than those our fathers bore. The griefs we have to bear alone. The griefs that we can share, Our single griefs, our crowded griefs,— Which are the worst to bear ? Dear Lord ! in all our loneliest pains Thou hast the largest share, And that which is unbearable 'Tis Thine, not ours, to bear. How merciful Thine anger is. How tender it can be, How wonderful all sorrows are Which come dii'ect from Thee ! AFTER A DEATH. iSj Years fly, Lord ! and every year More desolate I grow ; My world of friends thins round me fust, Love after love lies low. There are fresh gaps around the hearth, Old places left unfilled, And young lives quenched before the old And the love of old hearts chillea : Dear voices and dear faces missed, Sweet households overthrown, And what is left more sad to see Than the sight of what has gone. All this is to be sanctified, This rupture with the past; For thus we die before our deaths, And so die well at last. DEEP GEIEP, r\AYS, weeks, and months have gone, Lord ! They seemed both long and brief ; Yet darker still the darkness grows, And deeper lies the grief. They spoke of sorrow's laws and ways, They said what time would do ; Wise-sounding words ! yet have they been Most bitterly untrue. sorrow ! 'tis thy law to feed On what should be relief ; time ! of all things surely thou Art cruelest to grief. DEEP GRIEF. l8q They tell me I am better now That tears have passed away : Alas I those earlier days of tears Were sunshine to to-day. The mind was less afraid of self, When sorrow's thoughts grew rank : The sights and sounds of recent grief Were better than this blank. Old grief is worse than new : its pain Is deeper in the heart ; The dull, blind ache is worse to bea: Than blow, or wound, or smart. Deeper and deeper in my soul The weight of grief is stealing, And, strange to say, I feel it mor^ When it has sunk past feeling. igO DEEP GRIEF, grief! when thou wert fresh and sharp, Part of life felt thy blow ; But, grown the habit of my heart. Thou art my whole life now. Most sovereign when least sensible. Most seen when out of sight, Thou art the custom of the day, And the haunting of the night. Oh that they would not comfort ms ' Deep grief cannot be reached ; Wisdom, to cure a broken heart. Must not be wisdom preached. Deep grief is better let alone; Voices to it are swords ; A. silent look will soothe it more Than the tenderness of words. DEEP GRIEF. IQI Oh speak not ! I will do my work, Nay, more work than my share ; For to feel that it is idle grief Is what deep grief cannot bear. Deep grief is not a past event, It is a life, a state, Which habit makes more terribla-. And age more desolate. But am I comfortless ? Oh no ! ■ Jesus this pathway trod ; And deeper in my soul than griDi Art Thou, my dearest Go