FROM THE LIBRARY OF REV. LOUIS FITZGERALD BENSON, D. D. BEQUEATHED BY HIM TO THE LIBRARY OF PRINCETON THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY "B. M. I continue to receive in great num- bers letters about " B. M, M and the merits of her poems, but I have com- pletely failed to establish any connec- tion with anyone who knew her in the flesh. Nobody seems able to point to any sign of life beyond her reminis- cences of Frances Ridley Havergal contributed to the biography of that gifted writer. One correspondent men- tioned that she had lived at Lukes! and, Ivybridge, but this has not been ce'n- fermed though it may very well be true. But so popular an author — for she was very popular in her day — and one so comparatively recent should not have sunk out of sight so completely. Probably, however, this obscurity wa.s what she desired. Her poems are still! to be had from Messrs. Thomas Nelson and Son, Ltd., in a pretty edition in cloth, at 2s. 6d. net. The following letter relates to "B.^LV brother^ Robert Kalley Miller :— To M A Man of Kent." Sin.— In the interesting letters which appear in The British Weekly, dated 23rd instant, regaxding the poems ci '! B. M." there is a reference to Robert Kalley 'Miller, a mathematical genius .: ]ast century, A pupil of Profess-::- William Thomson, (afterwards Lord Kelvin), he went from Glasgow to Cambridge in the early 'sixties, and was declared by Professor Thomson to be t!i6 greatest mathematician he had • ever sent to Cambridge. During his final year he was head and shoulders above all competitors, and was regarded as certain to be Senior Wrangler. A carriage accident unfortunately prevented him from taking his place at the final examination. This was remedied as far as could be when* he took Smith's" prize, one of the greatest — if not the greatest — of the honours of that distinguished university. Shortly afterwards, when i college for the most promising naval and dockyard officers was established by tht Admiralty in Greenwich Hospital, Mr Miller became Professor .of Mathematics and endeared himself to those who hat the good fortune to come under his train ing. Unhappily his health failed, and h\ was cut off in early middle life. — Youi faithfully, J. Wilson. Vile-court Colerne. Chippenham, 26 March, 1922. Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2013 http://archive.org/details/ezekieloOOmaca E Z E K I f§) titer T&>ozm& By BrM&CL^K yho illicit: T. NELSON AND SONS, PATERNOSTER ROW. EDINBURGH J AND NEW YOR T < When I was heralding the things to come Upon the Holy Place, thus mighty grew The word of God in me and did prevail :— EZEKIEL. 1 7 When to the Princes in the Gate I spake At His command, the thunder of His power Broke on the word, and rose, till, overcome By that dread sound of wrath, a mighty Prince Fell at my feet and died.* Thus have I felt My soul grow strong, when on the threshold dark Of some great Vision, the Archangel sounds The Trump of God. For while the Trumpet peals In the thick darkness, sounding on and on, . And waxing louder, all my heart is stirred With new and heavenly powers, till nothing seems Impossible to me. Thus rose the word Of God upon my soul that dreadful day, And thus I spake it Then I took my way Forth from the trembling crowd. I know my brow Was deadly pale, and as I went mine eyes Could scarcely see the path. Deep in my heart The arrow quivered now. My thoughts had flown Again to her, who but once more would come To meet me smiling. But the people said, — " The man of God has stayed himself on God, Till he can dare all things ; yet even he Ezekiel xi, 13. 2 1 3 EZEKIEL. Is shaken by the thunder, which he brings From God to man." I held my way until I stood in a waste, desert place alone In the bright afternoon. All things looked strange And hard to me. By the great lonely stone Where the Chaldeans worship, when the stars Snow clear in Heaven, I stayed my steps a while And looked around me. At no other time Would I have halted there. Yet there I bent My head at last, and there I hid my face In my dark mantle. Over me there swept The winds of desolation. ***** Once again, For the last time, we sat at even-tide Beside the door, and saw the setting sun Throw on the trembling palm trees and the streams His golden showers of light. In days to come With equal pomp and glory he shall ride Down all the kindling west, in kingly robes Of gold and crimson, but we shall not watch His going down. Ah, never more shall scene On earth be bright to me ; — and as for her, She hasteth to a land that hath no need Of changing sun and moon. I hold her close EZEKIEL. 19 With my strong arm, but she will find a way To pass from me to God. Who ever heard That He could woo in vain 1 What He desires. That doeth He. And she had sung to me Her last sweet song, — for she was strangely calm And lifted up. She did not weep, nor lean On me, as she had done at other times, For strength to bear His will ; she seemed to lean Immediately upon the arm of God, And need no other aid. But in that hour My strength gave way : the gentle voice that sang Its last, last song so sweetly, seemed to steal My manhood from me ; and the wistful smile That strove to comfort me, — the smile so soon To be eclipsed in death, — did pierce my soul As with a sword. " It is not hard to die," She said, with that fair smile, " for God's sweet will Makes bitter things most sweet. In my bright youth He calls me to His side. It is not hard To go to Him." But in my haste I said, With aching heart, — " It is not hard for thee — I know it well. The captive-exile hastes To leave the exile-land. But it is hard 20 EZEKIEL. To stay behind alone, when our one star Is quenched for ever. Morn or eve shall bring No word of thee to me, and days and nights Shall make one empty night." She took my hand In hers with tender pity, praying God To comfort me for her : — " And thou must smile Once more on me, and bid me go in peace To Him who calls me ; for my short, sweet day Is closing now, and He would have me Home ; I cannot take that anguished look to wear On my calm heart in Heaven, as my last, Last memory of thee until we meet : Nay, thou must smile on me ; one little smile, Cast like a wild-flower on my misty way, Will make it brighter, and I cannot go In peace until thou bless me." Then she looked From me to the faint hills, that distant shone Towards the sinking sun. And I could feel That, as she moved a little in my arms, Her soul was stirring gently, as a bird Stirs in its nest, about to take its flight To brighter lands. And from her eyes the veil Was falling ; things unspeakable and sweet Were dawning on her gaze. In that last hour EZEKIEL. 21 The Hosts of God were round us, and her eyes Beheld them, while from mine the dark, sad wing Of Azrael had hid all brighter things. I only saw that tender, changing face, With its most wistful smile : — " She shall not go From me to follow Thee ! For she is mine, My fair white lamb, mine only one \ whilst Thou Hast many, in Thy calm Fold on the hill Of frankincense and myrrh. Lord, be content To lead Thy flock where shining waters sleep ; And leave the poor man in the wilderness His one ewe lamb ! " But yet again she said, Appealing to me, " Suffer me to go To Him who calleth me ! I love thee so That none but He could woo me from thy side, Or make my heart content to go from thee To all the joys of Heaven. And from the walls Of that bright Palace-Home my soul will lean, At morn and eve, to catch some distant sound Of thy home-coming feet : as here I watched For thy return at eve. "If God had willed, I would have gladly stayed \ but we are His, And it is sweet to do a little thing For Him who loves us so. He needeth me 2 2 EZEKIEL. To be a sign for Him, — my death to stand A figure to my people, of the things Which He will do on them, except they turn And seek His face. And I am so content To die for this ! I could not speak for God, As thou hast done so well ; but I can die For God, and for my people, — and for thee — To aid in thy great work. " Forbid me not ; Deny me not to Him. A day shall come When He shall give His Dearest to the death, For thee and me ! " The clouds had parted now, The love of God was shed abroad, within My broken heart. I could not say Him, Nay ; Or question Him. I laid my sacrifice Upon His altar, not denying Him Mine only one. The stars came forth to crown The sad, still Night. I heard the distant song Of one who sang, down by the river-side, A song of Zion. From our exile-land My love was hastening, to the brighter Home Of Israel. I bent to kiss her cheek, And blessed her softly in the Name of God, And bade her go in peace. Yea, with a smile EZEKIEL. 23 Which God had given me, I loosed my hold And suffered her to rise and go to Him. ***** And now at evening-time, when all the stars Keep watch along the battlements of Heaven, She bendeth from the Palace-walls, to watch For my Home-going step. I must fulfil My stormy day : once more the clouds of God Do compass all my path, with visions dread Of gloom and glory. By my ruined home I stand to speak for God, and stretch my hands, Emptied of their sweet treasure, in God's name To all the people. And the Lord alone Himself doth comfort me. And when at length The evening-time of my long day shall come, And God shall give me leave to lay aside The Prophet's mournful mantle, for the robe Of joy and light, — when at His Gate I find An everlasting entrance, there my love Shall meet me smiling. After my long day Of storm and conflict, I shall feel once more The joy of finding her awaiting me At eventide, and drawing me to rest With her in God. Then shall I hear at length 24 EZEKIEL. Her sweet voice singing to the harps of gold, And see her crowned with joy. And He of whom She spake to me that night, the Son of God, The saving King of Israel, shall dwell With us, and be our God. COMING. 1 At even, or at midnight, or at the cock-crowing, or in the morning.'* T may be in the evening, When the work of the day is done, §3 And you have time to sit in the twilight And watch the sinking sun, While the long bright day dies slowly Over the sea, And the hour grows quiet and holy With thoughts of Me \ While you hear the village children Passing along the street, Among those thronging footsteps May come the sound of My feet : Therefore I tell you, Watch By the light of the evening star, When the room is growing dusky As the clouds afar ; 26 COMING. Let the door be on the latch In your home, For it may be through the gloaming I will come. " It may be when the midnight Is heavy upon the land, And the black waves lying dumbly Along the sand ; When the moonless night draws close, And the lights are out in the house ; When the fires burn low and red, And the watch is ticking loudly Beside the bed : Though you sleep, tired out, on your couch, Still your heart must wake and watch In the dark room, For it may be that at midnight I will come. " It may be at the cock-crow, When the night is dying slowly In the sky, And the sea looks calm and holy, Waiting for the dawn COMING. i Of the golden sun, Which draweth nigh ; When the mists are on the valleys, shading The rivers chill, And My morning-star is fading, fading Over the hill : Behold, I say unto you, Watch ; Let the door be on the latch In your home ; In the chill before the dawning, Between the night and morning, I may come. " It may be in the morning, When the sun is bright and strong, And the dew is glittering sharply Over the little lawn ; When the waves are laughing loudly Along the shore, And the little birds are singing sweetly About the door ; With the long day's work before you, You rise up with the sun, And the neighbours come in to talk a little Of all that must be done \ 28 COMING, But remember that I may be the next To come in at the door, To call you from all your busy work For evermore : As you work your heart must watch, For the door is on the latch In your room. And it may be in the morning I will come." So He passed down my cottage garden, By the path that leads to the sea, Till He came to the turn of the little road Where the birch and laburnum tree Lean over and arch the way \ There I saw Him a moment stay, And turn once more to me, As I wept at the cottage door, And lift up his hands in blessing — Then I saw His face no more. And I stood still in the doorway, Leaning against the wall, Not heeding the fair white roses, Though I crushed them and let them fall; COMING. 29 Only looking down the pathway, And looking towards the sea, And wondering, and wondering When He would come back for me, Till I was aware of an Angel Who was going swiftly by, With the gladness of one who goeth In the light of God Most High. He passed the end of the cottage Towards the garden gate, — (I suppose he was come down At the setting of the sun To comfort some one in the village Whose dwelling was desolate), And he paused before the door Beside my place, And the likeness of a smile Was on his face : — 4 Weep not," he said, " for unto you is given To watch for the coming of His feet Who is the Glory of our blessed Heaven ; The work and watching will be very sweet Even in an earthly home, And in such an hour as you think not He will come." COMING. So I am watching quietly Every day. Whenever the sun shines brightly I rise and say, — " Surely it is tne shining of His face," And look unto the gates of His high place Beyond the sea, For I know He is coming shortly To summon me. And when a shadow falls across the window Of my room, Where I am working my appointed task, I lift my head to watch the door, and ask If He is come ; And the Angel answers sweetly In my home, — " Only a few more shadows, And He wili come/' THE NIGHT SERVICE. " Behold, bless ye the Lord, all ye servants of the Lord, which by night stand in the house of the Lord." ROM the awaking of the glorious Sun In the far chambers of the crystal East, |8) To where he goeth down in pomp and power Beyond the western seas, the Name of God Is to be blessed and praised. In morning hours. When the sweet singing voice of birds is heard On every side, when mighty Forests wake And stretch their hands to God, when through the Earth The breath of Life is blowing, — then the Saints Arise from sleep and sing. Through all the hours Of night and darkness, angel-hosts have kept 3 2 THE NIGHT SER VICE. Their sacred watch, encamping tenderly Round God's beloved. When the curtains rise At break of day, and show the dewy Earth Sparkling with heavenly smiles, and wearing crowns Of peace and beauty undenled by man, We marvel at the radiance of her look. We need not marvel ; she hath entertained, Whilst we were sleeping, angel-guests as fair As stars of the morning. When her children sleep— Their sad eyes closed, their weary feet that are So restless all the day, and vex her with Their ceaseless wanderings, lying very still Upon her bosom, lo ! the far-off Gates Of Glory lift their heads, the hosts of God Descend to visit her. Ah ! Night is sweet With fragrance of eternal lilies, worn On stainless breasts. And wonderful deep thrill Of heavenly music come and go, on wings Of the midnight wind, and wander tenderly On sleeping seas. From darkened shore to shore God gives his children sleep — their faces pale And mournful, overshone by angel-looks THE NIGHT SERVICE, 33 That light their dreams. And when the morning breaks And rouses them from sleep, they rise and sing For joy of heart. Their sleep has been most sweet And full of peace ; the saddest face has caught Some faint reflection from an angel's smile ; And the soft wind that bloweth from the P'ast At daybreak, finds upon the dewy heath Some trace of footsteps, fragrant from the Hills Of Frankincense and Myrrh. Oh, sweetly rise Our morning-songs to God, in whose great Light We see the light. And through the long bright Day There is no silence, for at every hour Some soul is praising God. A mighty man Standing victorious, after desperate fight Upon his Battle-field — his high soul thrilled With awful triumph, and his gleaming eyes Still full of stormy light — uplifteth now His mailed hands to Heaven, and blesseth God, The God of Battles. Now a woman, pale With nights of weeping, veiling her in clouds Of shadowy hair, and wearing for a smile A sadder light than moonlight on her face, Steals to the Saviour's feet, and poureth there 3 34 THE NIGHT SERVICE. Her most sweet ointment, till the House is filled With heavenly fragrance. Now a little child Of the kingdom, raises his sweet voice to sing A song of Zion — no deep undertone Of the Battle's thunder past, no voice of tears, Sound in the simple song ; his sky is bright, His full cup runneth over, and he sings. Thus every hour some soul is giving praise, Sweet praise, to God. The mighty man of war In a deep, grand hymn, sung with a voice still hoarse After the Battle-shout ; a woman's kiss Falling, with tears of trembling joy, on Feet Most sacred ; and the sweet voice of a child Singing between : these make the music heard On high. But who shall praise God in the Night? The Night, that lays her finger on the lips Of men, and hushes them to something like The calm of Death. How sleeps the prisoner, And the oppressor sleeps ; the wicked cease From troubling, and the weary are at rest. Ah, who shall praise Him in the Night % the Night, That stretcheth mournful wings from shore to shore, THE NIGHT SERVICE, 35 Till silent lie the singers of the world Beneath the shadow. Angels come and go, And wonderful sweet thrills of music sweep The night-wind as they pass. Yea, Christ Himself Is with us \ lo ! the Shepherd-king of the Church Abideth in the Fields, and watcheth o'er His Flock by night. But who shall give Him praise For this sweet service % Who shall celebrate The Name of God by Night. It is the Night : And in the Temple of the Lord, not made By mortal hands, the lights are burning low Before the Altar. Clouds of darkness fill The vastness of the sacred aisles. The dumb And breathless Spirit of the Night is here In all his power ; no rushing mighty wind Of organ-harmonies is sweeping down The shadowy place. A few short hours ago, And all the Temple-courts were thronged with those Who worshipped and gave thanks, before they went To take their rest. Then many voices joined To sing the praise of God ; but who shall bless His Name at midnight ? 3 6 THE NIGH T SER VICE. Lo ! a band of pale Yet joyful priests do minister around The Altar, where the lights are burning low, In the breathless Night. Each grave brow wears the crown Of sorrow, and each heart is kept awake By its own restless pain, for these are they To whom the night-watch is appointed. See ! They lift their hands, and bless God in the Night ! Whilst we are sleeping, those to whom the King Has measured out a cup of sorrow, sweet With His dear love, yet very hard to drink, Are waking in His Temple, and the eyes That cannot sleep for sorrow or for pain Are lifted up to Heaven ; and sweet low songs, Broken by patient tears, arise to God. Bless ye the Lord, ye servants of the Lord, Which stand by Night within His Holy Place To give Him worship ! Ye are Priests to Him, And minister around the Altar, pale Yet joyful in the Night. The Priests must serve, Each in his course, and we must stand in turn Awake with sorrow, in the Temple dim, To bless the Lord by Night. We will not fear THE NIGHT SER VICE. \ 7 When we are called at midnight, by some stroke Of sudden pain, to rise and minister Before the Lord. We, too, will bless His Name In the solemn Night, and stretch our hands to Him. THE MAN AT THE GATE.* 1 I am willing, with all my heart/ said He." — Bunyaris Pilgrim s Progress ! .HEN the sun shines fair on the smiling land, Or the stars walk out in a cloudless sky, — |f When the waves are trampling wild on the ^T^ sand, And the voice of the thunder passes by,- In summer and winter, in calm and storm, When the morning dawns, and the night falls late, We may catch, if we will, the steadfast form Of the Man that watches beside the Gate. In the early spring, when the voice was heard Of the singing birds in their sweet defiles, When the face of the earth once more was stirred By the flowers that came and went like smiles, * Written for a Sunday afternoon class, in connection with a lesson from the ' Pilgrim's Progress." THE MAN A T THE GA TE. 39 I saw the stars of the morning wait On their lofty towers to watch the land, As a little child stole up to the Gate, And knocked with a tiny trembling hand A wreath of flowers on his golden hair, The light of youth in his shining eyes. And the look of an earnest purpose there, As of one who must win a place in the skies, — " I am only a little child, dear Lord, And my feet are stained already with sin, But they said you had sent the children word To come to the Gate and enter in." The Man at the Gate looked up and smiled. A heavenly smile, and fair to see, And He opened, and bent to the pleading child,— " I am willing, with all My heart," said He. The morning breaks, with i^s golden showers, The pale stars pass away to their rest, As the little head with its wreath of flowers Is laid on the Shepherd's gentle breast \ $0 THE MAN A T THE GA TE. While over it bends in speechless love The Head that is crowned with thorns for him ; Ah, the angels might sigh in their songs above For the tears that are making the child's eye dim. 1 looked again, and the wintry blast Was hurrying wildly o'er land and sea, The glory of spring-time was long gone past, And the branches were bare on the trembling tree. Yet still at the Gate the Saviour stood, And His Face was uplifted serene and fair, Though His raiment was heavy and red with blood, And the crown of thorns showed dark on His hair It was afternoon, and the sun was low, And the troubled winds sobbed long and loud, As an old man tottered across the snow, Which wrapt the earth in a bitter shroud ; I le knocked with a withered, trembling hand : " I can but perish at last," he said, " For the cruel night comes fast on the land, And the morning will find me cold and dead. THE MAN A T THE GA TE. 4 ' " O Thou that watchest beside the Gate, Had I come to Thee in the days gone by Thou hadst received me ; but now too late, I lay me down on Thy threshold to die : " I have fought and finished an evil fight, I have earned the deadly wages of sin ; It is hard to die in the snow to-night, But no man is willing to take me in." The sun was low in the changing west, The shadows were heavy from hill and tree, As the Watchman opened the Gate of rest, — " / am willing, with all My heart," said He, ***** " O gentle Watchman ! turn Thee now To rest a while in the House of God ; Forget the heavy burdens which bow The weary of heart in our sad abode : " Be it far from Thee to watch all night For the children of sorrow, and sin, and shame; In the heavenly places the lamps are bright, And the saints are rising to sing Thy name." 42 THE MAN AT THE GATE. But the Watchman turned and looked on me, Till I bent my head adown to weep ; " Suffer me then to watch with Thee Alone to-night while the nations sleep !" So I watched with Him through the moonless hours Of that sweetest night I have ever known. And His words were as dew on the tender flowers, And all in the darkness the true Light shone. We heard the gentle steps of the snow Coming down from its home at God's right hand, As the angels came softly, long ago, To the fragrant hills of the Holy Land. And at midnight there came the voice of one Who had crept to the Gate through the blinding snow, And who moaned at the Gate as one undone Might moan at the sight of the last dread Woe. A woman's voice, and it rose and fell On the muffled wings of the snowy night, With a trembling knocking which seemed to tell Of one who was chilled and spent outright THE MAN A T THE GA TE. 43 " I wove the crown for the Brow divine, I pierced the Hand that was stretched to save, I dare not pray that the moon may shine To show me the prints of the nails I drave " I beat this night on my sinful breast, I dare not pray Him to succour mc".,,,,. But the Watchman opened the Gate of rest, — " I am willing, with all My heart," said He. * * * * * Thus day and night they are pressing nigh, With tears and sighs, to the heavenly Gate. Where the Watchman stands in His majesty, With a patience which never has said, " Too late." Let the sorrowful children of want and sin Draw near to the Gate, whence none depart ; Let the nations arise and enter in, For the Lord is willing, with all His heart \1 THE HEBREW MOTHER. 'Arise thou therefore, get thee to thine own house ; and when thy feet enter into the city the child shall die." — i Kings xiv, 12. |ITHIN our palace-gates another king Was come to stand, a dim and silent king, Whom no man seeketh after, and no man Resisteth, when he riseth up to smite. In robes of darkness and with soundless tread He came at midnight, when the moon was full And all the land was silent \ for I sat That night to watch the child, and rising up At midnight, drew the curtains wide to see The silent skies. Forth on the palace court I looked : the scent of the white orange-flowers Came and went sweetly on the still night air, The fountain played and murmured in the court, And fair flowers trembled round it, and the moon Gleamed on white marble pillars. THE HEBREW MOTHER. 45 Then there fell A Shadow suddenly, and one did stand In robes of darkness, where the moonlight lay Most white and shining on the marble floor. A king — for the dim form as of a crown Rose on that shrouded head \ an angel too — For mighty wings did cast their shade athwart The moonlight on the floor, proclaiming him One of God's angels, who excel in strength And do His awful will : and — with a start Of sudden agony — I caught the gleam — The deadly gleaming of the sword he held Wherewith to smite my child. Lo, this is Death Come up into our Palace ! Then I fell With bitter moanings kneeling by the child, And stretching helpless hands across his breast To shield him from the angel of the sword Whom no man can resist. He lay asleep Pale in the moonlight, very beautiful, And fair and still like those white flowers that gleamed In the same moonlight. Thus I wept and watched And called upon His Name who is the hope Of Israel through dark nights and cloudy days. The long pale moonlit hours went slowly by, 46 THE HEBREW MOTHER. And it was near the dawning when the child Awoke, with a long sigh, and looked on me. Where had he been, through those still moonlit hours, While I had watched % His eyes were wearing now A new deep look, as if some veil were rent, And he, — with open face beholding, — saw Things glorious and secret, and his voice Thrilled on my heart, and held me calm and still " Mother, dear mother, I have loved the Name Of the great God of Israel, now I go To see His face. His blessing on my heart Is gathering ever, and He draws so close And shines so sweetly with His peace on me That I must rise and go. How often we Have wandered on the glowing sunset hills Of Ephraim ; and at the sacred hour Of the great evening-sacrifice afar In Zion, we have knelt towards her gates— Her holy gates — and prayed the Lord that He Would reckon us among the people there. And in His holy Temple God did hear The far-off prayer, which echoed from the hills Of Ephraim, and on our hearts there fell (As falls on Israel what time the priest THE HEBREW MOTHER. 47 Comes forth to bless the people) God's own peace After the sacrifice. This night once more Strange sweetness seems to fall upon my heart, As if some one were blessing me with peace For evermore. This blessing may be His — The High Priest's yet to come — who shall by one Great Sacrifice, at evening-time, redeem His people to Himself." The moonlight lay Upon his face ; but not from moon or star Had shone the light that dwelt so deep within Those lifted eyes. Even in the Border Land The people have no need of sun by day, Neither of moon by night. These are no more Their lights, for God Himself is risen up To be to them an everlasting Light : And unto Him alone they look, with eyes Which we must weep to see. lie spoke again In a low tone, — " Dear mother, sing to me Once more a song of David. I had prayed To be a king like David, and to reign For God in Israel, but now I go To be with David, and with all the great And mighty men of Israel who stand Before the Holy One. Dear mother, sing 48 THE HEBREW MOTHER. A song of David." And I sang to him With bitter thrills of pain ; trembling, and yet Not weeping, for I knew there would be time To weep hereafter, but the time was short Wherein I yet might sing to him, and lay His head upon my breast. I sang to him — Singing the Lord's song, even in the land Of death and sighing, for the shadows drew Closer across his face. Then, as I ceased, The king came in to see the child, and bent To kiss his brow, and bending caught the look Upon his face, and started, — " This is Death Come up into our Palace. O my gods Whom I have trusted, and to whom my prayers Have all the night gone up ! Behold, ye turn Away from me; now also will I turn Away from you, and seek unto the Lord Of Israel and Judah. Long ago I used to worship on His holy hill, And hear the words of peace and blessing fall On Israel. But I have sinned, and now — An angry God — He dwelleth in the Land, And goeth up and down to smite, and not To bless, and those who meet Him turn aside In fear and trembling. Yet to whom can we THE HEBREW MOTHER. 49 Appeal but Him ? Thou shalt arise and go To Shiloh, to the man of God, and ask If yet the child may live. / dare not go, For I have knelt to other gods than his." * * * * The morning star was smiling sweet and still In the blue distant sky, what time I rose To leave my child. The tears fell silently And heavy, as I bent my head again, And yet again, to kiss the cold pale cheek ; — " How shall I leave thee? God Himself be here And hold thee back from Death, until I come ! It is a little way : a little while And I return. Wait for me till I haste Across the hills, and come again to thee." A sweet smile wandered on his fading face, — 11 Yes, mother, I will wait ; I shall not come Again to thee, but thou shalt come to me, As David said. It is a little way Across the hills, and I will wait for thee With God in Zion." Then I wept again, And prayed, and turned to go ; perhaps the man Of God in Shiloh would be strong to save My dying child. But at the door again I turned to look on him. His eyes were full 4 5 o THE HEBRE IV MO THER. Of God's own smile, his look was calm and high, And with his hand he pointed to the star And smiled, — " My star, my bright and morning star ! The night is ended, and the Day-star come For me. And though the darkness on my Land Shall be for many days, a Star shall rise On Jacob, and the midnight shadows flee Before His Face." And then again he said, Lifting his hands unto the silent Land That stretched above his dying head, " My star, My bright and morning star !" * * * * * At noontide, when the hot and heavy air Pressed on the weary earth, and thunder-clouds Were darkening heaven, and everything was still, And faint, and sickening with the burning breath Of coming storms, I stood at length before The man of God in Shiloh. Then he rose — That blind and awful Prophet of the Lord — And stretched his hand to heaven, and the curse Like thunder burst upon my head from God. He stretched his hand to heaven, and the clouds Of heaven answered him, for while he poured Each awful curse, the thunders crashed above, THE HEBRE W MO THER. 5 1 And deadly lightnings gleamed and gleamed again. Curses on Israel, on the pleasant land Which had been precious in the eyes of God ; Curses upon her king who had provoked With many sins that higher King, who reigns A jealous God in Israel And still After each awful curse, the awful crash Of thunder shook the earth, and smote my heart As if great voices up in Heaven said "Amen" to every curse. And lightnings gleamed, As if impatient to begin the work Of judgment in the land. I fell upon My face. I think I would have died before The Lord that day, what time His thunders woke, And His blind Prophet in dread words proclaimed The darkness and the doom of Israel, — But ever and anon the sweet, child's voice Which spoke to me at dawning (when there were No thunders in the sky, but only stars — Fair morning stars — which seemed to sing once more Together to the Lord), would steal across, My trembling soul, " Yet shall a Star arise On Jacob, and the midnight shadows flee Before His Face." I tried to stay my heart 5 2 THE HEBRE W MO THER. Upon this word, until amid the crash Of thunders and of curses, I did hear His words about the child, — how he should die That very day in peace, and Israel Should mourn for him ; — " He shall not live to see The evil days. What time thy feet do pass This day within thy city-gate, the child Shall die." ***** I know not how I went that day Along the road from Shiloh. All my heart Seemed stunned and stricken, as by some wild blow Dealt by an unseen hand. I hurried on, And could not bear to tarry on the road, — Although I knew that every step I took In hastening to the child, brought Death more near — Not me more near — to him. I know I prayed At times, not asking anything, I think, But helplessly repeating God's great Name In my great agony. And thus I went In my strange haste, until I reached the gate Of Tirzah : on her palaces and towers The afternoon was shining, and the gate Stood open. Then it seemed as if a dream, A woful dream, had wrapped me ail the day, — THE HEBREW MOTHER. 53 But the gate woke me, and the word came back And smote upon me like a blow from God Given in anger, — " When thy feet do pass This day within the city-gate, the child Shall die." Then my heart fainted utterly, And all things seemed to darken, and I crept A little from the gate, and stumbled where The graves are thickest. There the people lie And weep no more ; the stately trees that keep Their dark watch in the place of graves are used To shelter calmer faces, stiller hearts Than mine. In their deep shadows I fell down And tried to call on God, but in that hour Of agony, the clouds were dark between My soul and Him ; " O God ! I cannot pass Within the gate. Where are Thy mercies gone 1 Would God that I had died for thee, my son !" ***** But suddenly there was the voice of one Who spake to me Sweeter than sweetest flow Of waters which go softly, music swept Across my heart : the music of a voice Used to the songs of Heaven. How that tone, 54 THE HEBREW MOTHER. With its strange sweetness, touched my anguished heart To something more than tears : the fountains then Of a great deep were broken, and I poured My heart to God. (It was of God the voice Had spoken.) All the bitterness was gone, And, like a little child, I leaned my head Upon my God. The Angel stood by me, And smiled, in that dim place of graves, a smile Which surely even in bright Heaven would Have seemed exceeding bright ; and yet as soft As that soft music of his angel- voice, — " Poor mother ! I am come to take thy hand And lead thee through the gate, for it is hard For thee to rise and go. My God and thine "— (How sweetly, with the thrill oi perfect love, And yet with holy awe, as if he stood Before the Throne, the Angel named that Name) — " My God and thine — hath sent me unto thee To lead thee through the gate." But at the word My heart grew faint again, and though I tried To lean on God, trembling took hold on me : And, with a voice that sounded hoarse and strange To mine own ear, I answered him again, — " Within our palace-court the Angel dread THE HEBREW MOTHER. 55 Of Death is standing, and what time I pass This day within the city-gate, his feet Shall cross the inner threshold, and his sword Shall smite my child !" But in that dark wild hour, — When my soul fainted almost unto death, — The Lord did wondrously. A strange bright cloud Did overshadow us ; and I beheld, And lo ! a City. Eye hath never seen On this pale earth such glory, ear hath heard No music like the songs which seemed to float Across the place. Above the City stood No sun, yet forth she looked, clear as the sun, Fair as the moon, and terrible as some Great army. And the shining of her walls Was like the glory of a golden Dawn On stainless snow. Upon the streets there went And came a holy people, clad in white, With faces sealed to peace unspeakable. I did not see His Face who sitteth King Within the shining City, but I saw Reflected on each face His wondrous look. And I could read that every eye within The City saw Him, though I saw Him not. The gates were open, and the voice of them 5& THE HEBREW MOTHER. That sing for joy of heart was heard again Within. The Angel of the Lord stood by, — Watching, methought, to see what /would think Of this, his blessed Home. He took my hand And pointed to the City, — " Beautiful For situation, joy of all the earth Is God's fair Zion ! Thou shalt rise and come (Even with joy) within this dreaded gate Of Tirzah ; for what time thy weary feet Do pass across this city-gate, the child Shall cross that Threshold, and behold the Face Of God in peace." Then had I strength to rise, And, — gazing steadfastly unto that fair And shining City, — leaning on the hand Of God's good Angel, passed unto the gate Of Tirzah. Yea, through God, I did prevail To cross — although with something like the throb Of Death (for my child's soul was parting then) — Within the gate. * * * * * I lean on God. My child Shall see no evil days. What time I passed That day within the gate, the child arose THE HEBREW MOTHER. 57 And crossed Thy Threshold, and beheld thy Face, God, in peace. He will not come to me, But I will haste across the fading hills And go to Thee. SAVONAROLA. OW kneeleth the monk at prayer In his desolate cell, Pale as death his lifted brow, His hands are clenched and pale ; He cannot heed, in this hour of need, The call of the convent bell In the cloisters fair without, In the moonlight sweet, May be heard the passing sound Of sandalled feet ; For the monks are risen at dead of night To pray in the church for grace and light, The dim new year to greet : The voice of the midnight bell, On the crystal air, SAVONAROLA. 59 Hath summoned the men that slept to wake And think of prayer ; As the old year dies, and the curtains rise On a strange new year. But the monk who kneeleth alone In his desolate cell, Is wrapped already in prayer too deep To hear the voice of the bell ; Eight nights hath he watched in agony Which none may tell. His hands are clenched and raised In the conflict dread, His passionate gaze is on the cross Above his head ; On the face of One who hangs thereon, With pierced hands and thorny crown, Dying or dead. And scarce more worn and sad That awful face, That leans, in the heaviness of death, From its high place, Than the wasted face upturned to plead For strength and grace. 60 SAVONAROLA He prayeth low for aid, To meet the frown Of those who shall give him to share cross — That thorny crown ; But, voiceless, upon the mournful prayer, The mournful Christ looks down. How dreadful is this place ! A living man in his woe, And a marble Christ, who never stirs Where they nailed him long ago ; Awfully gazing face to face With the anguished soul below. Fair walketh the moon in heaven With her silver tread, As the sweet saints walk in robes of snow In the land of the blessed dead ; And she casteth a radiance tender and pale Upon the Saviour's head. The sun grew faint in Heaven Before His woe, But now the moon with her gentle gaze Can face Him so ; SAVONAROLA, 6 1 Knowing that Christ, from the sorrows of death, Was comforted long ago. The monk hath turned at length To those shining skies, — " Surely God is not in this place, I will arise, And watch afar till the morning star Shall bless mine eyes. u 1 turn me from the cross, To the Crucified — Will He strengthen me to tread the path His own feet dyed ? Will He look forth from His lattice to-night, And show me the smile, serene and bright, That cheers His bride ? Is the fire that burns in my heart alway The fire of God 1 Is my voice to bear the awful sound Of His wrath abroad ? Saviour divine, show me a sign To light my road ! " 62 SAVONAROLA, In that same hour the Lord Unveiled His face, Sending His Spirit down to bless The solitary place : Teaching those weary eyes to see, No marble Christ in agony, But a living King of Grace : And the King hath laid His hand On the watcher's head, Till the heart that was so worn and sad Is quiet and comforted ; And the soul is strong once more to stand. And face the wrath of all the land, With His message dread. n. The people are met to pray Before the shrine, Where day and night, from year to year, The pale lamps shine, To light the darkness of a Face That bendeth from the altar-place, Sad, yet divine. SAVONAROLA. 63 The clouds of incense rise, The sweet bell tolls, Down all the darkness of the church A music rolls, And stirs, as with a wind from Heaven, The gathered souls. But when the passionate voice Of the music dies, And even the echo, faint and sweet, Hath ceased her sighs, Another voice, more solemn and grand, Is heard to rise ! Ah ! well fair Florence knows That voice of doom ;* This is her Prophet, stern and sad Whose soul doth loom So dark and awful from its place, That they who dare to meet His face Pale at its gloom. How fair and sweet on the hills Their footsteps glow, * " His voice was as the blast of the archangel's trumpet. " 64 SA VONAROLA. Who come with tidings of peace and love To the world below ; As angels of light, by day and night, They come and go : But those whom God has appointed Heralds of wrath, From his secret place of thunder Come by a darker path ; A voice of doom, a brow of gloom, This herald hath. To him the smiles of earth Are little worth, His eyes have seen the lifted sword Gleam wild in the north, And he speaks as one to whom is given To know the wrath of outraged Heaven, And to pour it forth. Yet are there softer hours, When his voice sinks low, And they see, as it were, an angel's face ; So sweet the glow With which he prays them all to come To the arms of Christ, who is our home And loveth so. SAVONAROLA. 65 u I have longed as other men To be at rest, To follow the sinking, smiling sun Down the shining west, Or to take the wings of the morning and flee To my Saviour's breast : " Yet, might I go to Him This night in peace, How could I sing in the silver dawn Of that sweet release, Whilst my people darkly stand without, And lift to Heaven the rebel shout, That will not cease 1 " Oh, that mine eyes were fountains Of flowing tears, That I might weep through the sunless hours Of my bitter years \ For my land hath filled her cup of sin, And the judgment nears ; Then all the people trembled For fear of God, As if they saw in heaven the sign Of His lifted rod, 5 66 SA VONAROLA. And felt the truth that, a little while, And instead of the light of His fatherly smile His wrath should be shed abroad. in. They brought him forth to die In the face of the sun, They took his sacred robes away One by one ; Whilst the city gazed, he stood amazed, As a man undone. The lips that were bathed in fire Are silent and pale, The marks of tempest and agony, And of hope that doth fail, Are on the brow that was so high — It faced God's thunders in the sky And could not quail. Has he missed the cup of joy, Whose rich wine glows With heavenly radiance, poured forth For the lips of those Who dare to face a martyr's death, A martyr's gathered woes ? SAVONAROLA. 67 Is there no cup for him But the cup of agony 1 No ecstasy of faith and prayer, No parted sky ? Yet, steadfastly he standetli there, Unaided in his last despair, And dares to die. Within the chambers dark Of his wrapt soul, Strange scenes are passing fitfully. Strange voices roll ; He lives again the last dark days, Whilst the bell doth toll. He hears once more the witness Of the accusing band : "Thy words have been bold against the men That rule in the land, Yea. and the Church of God, amazed, Has heard thy voice in thunder raised To blast her hand ! " They said he bore it well— The torture dread — 68 SA VONAROLA. They racked his broken frame again From foot to head, Till the quivering lips denied the truth — He knew not what he said ! " When the blood-red mists had cleared From my reeling brain, And the pale daylight that had been lost Crept back again, I looked on the white robe of my soul And saw its deadly stain. " How awfully that stain Did grow and gloom, Even whilst I hastened to speak the words That sealed my doom, Denying the false denial, wrung From lips to which the cold sweat clung, In the torture-room. " And now they bid me yield This weary breath ; I, who have lost my Saviour's smile And shipwrecked faith, Am still allowed to die for Him, SA VONAROLA. 69 In my poor raiment, soiled and dim — A martyrs sacred death. " Last night I saw God's hosts On the moonlight ride, And as they passed each martyr drew His stainless robe aside, Lest I should seek to touch the hem That floated wide. u They died for the love of Christ By fire and sword, And He Himself stood by to cheer With smile and word \ /die, alone, for Him to-day My lost, lost Lord ! " Within the chambers dark Of his rapt soul, Such thoughts were passing drearily Whilst the bell did toll, And sunny Florence smiled to see Her noblest son, in agony, Draw near the goal. He was aware of a voice That cried aloud, 70 SA V0NAR0LA. " We blot thy name this day," it said, " From the Church of God \ O homeless soul, the thunders roll Along thy downward road ! v But even as it spake— Through all the place A murmur ran, for a nameless change Was on the martyr's face, As if a golden hope, that slept Deep in his soul, had waked and leapt To meet a coming grace. A glorious gleam of heaven * Lighted his eye : " Ye may blot my name from the Church on earth ; But the Church of the sky, Christ's radiant Bride, is opening wide The Gates of Victory. " And I, a man despised, Shall enter there * During the ceremony of stripping him of his sacerdotal dress, Savonarola stood gloomy and abstracted; but when the bishop pronounced the words, " I separate thee from the Church," a sudden hope lighted his face, and he answered aloud, " From the Church Militant, but not from the Church Triumphant." SAVONAROLA, 71 Amongst the priests of the House of God, Clean and fair, The clouds are broken overhead, The smile of Christ's own lips is shed On my despair." No golden dawn that glitters On the Eastern sea, No burning glories of the West Which transient be, Can image how that light broke forth, blessed martyr, on thee ! He stood transfigured there, In the smile of God, Not noting the fear and wrath that shook The cruel crowd, Not knowing how they set him free, To stand with Christ in ecstasy, Where the angels sang aloud. THE SEA OF SORROW. T was the Sea of Sorrow : neither sun Nor moon did lighten it ; the waters slept, Siipj And dreamed not as they slept, for smile nor frown Did cross their face. Around, the moun- tains swept, Like a great host at rest ; and I beheld The shadow of Eternity lie deep And heavy on the sea. A sad, chill wind Did wander by the shore, but never stirred Those dreamlike waters ; and amongst the dim Eternal mountains, I could hear the tread Of solemn thunders. Common sounds of earth Were hushed to silence there : the voice of bride And bridegroom ceased ; the reaper's song of joy, The victor's cry, died trembling on the hills THE SEA OF SORROW. 73 That compassed round the sea, and never reached The sunless face, nor stirred the sunless heart. 11. It was the Sea of Sorrow ; and I saw The Master walk thereon. His robe was dark ; The crown was on his brow — that mournful crown Which marked him King of Sorrows : this the gift Which his fair Earth presented to her Lord When he did visit her. For other men She twineth smilingly her laurel crowns ; But unto Him she offered — woful gift — A crown of thorns. Yet he accepted it — Yea, he desired it, counting it all joy To wear that piercing gift. And wearing it, He treadeth, kingly, on the waters dim, Fairer than sons of men, though under skies More dark than Earth had seen. For all things seemed To fight against Him : heaven was black with clouds, And terrible upon the mountains shone The feet of hurrying storms, the rapid glance Of scattered lightnings ; then the thunders loud Broke on that lonely sea, and on the Man Who walked thereon ; then met upon His head 74 THE SEA OF SORROW. The sorrows of eternal death, and none For whom He died were found to comfort Christ. in. It was the Sea of Sorrow ; waters gray And mournful stretched from solemn shore to shore, In a dark rest which none may break or mar : And there once more the Master. He was dead, But is alive again, and walketh now In robes of light across the waters dim, Leading His chosen band. These be the men Who suffer with Him — clad, like Him, in white ; And more than conquerors, for they can tread With slow and even step the dreadful plain Of those deep waters, hasting not for fear Even in the dreariest night. And there were hours When strange, unearthly radiance flushed the face Of those dim waters ; when the City throned Above the stars looked down upon the sea, Which caught the glorious image. Then the men That walked thereon beheld beneath their feet The shadow of the Heavenly — walls and towers Of gems and crystal : as they walked the cold And deathly waters, lo ! they seemed to tread The streets of gold above. For Christ, and those THE SEA OF SORROW. 75 Who walk with Him in white — where heart and flesh Must well-nigh faint and fail — thus going down To God's great sea, behold God's wonders there : And precious things of everlasting grace And secret glory are revealed to eyes That mourn the death of every earthly joy. IV. It was the Sea of Sorrow ; and I stood At midnight on the shore. The heavy skies Hung dark above ; the voice of them that wept Was heard upon the waters, and the chill, Sad going of a midnight wind, which stirred No wave thereon. And I was there alone To face that dreadful sea : I felt the cold And deathly waters touch my feet, and drew A little back, and shuddered. Yet I knew That all who follow Christ must suffer here. " Master," I said, with trembling, in the night, With voice that none but He would note or know. So hoarse and weak — " O Master, bid me come ! If on these woful waters I must walk, Then let me hear Thy voice thereon, that so I may not die, before I reach Thy feet, Of loneliness and fear." 76 THE SEA OF SORROW. I listened there With breathless longing by that solemn sea, Till through the curtains of the night I heard His own voice calling me — that voice which draws His children through the flood and through the fire To kiss His feet ; and at the Master's word I left the shore, forth walking on the dim And untried waters, there to follow Him Who called me, and there to see His face. v. It was the Sea of Sorrow. Ages gray Had come and gone : and every age had some Who were accounted worthy to attain The laurel crowns of earth, and walk in robes Of purple, far above their brother-men ; And every age had some whom God had called To walk in white with Christ — to follow One Who wore a crown of thorns where moonless skies Bent dark o'er darker seas. A little while, And all things shall be new ; the night of earth Shall pass away for ever ; " no more sea" Shall then be found, for pain and loss and grief Are swallowed up in radiant victory. Yet in the country of eternal Spring THE SEA OF SORROW. 77 Many shall bend to kiss the Master's feet, Saying, — " He never smiled so sweet before, Save on the Sea of Sorrow, when the night Was saddest on our heart. We followed Him At other times in sunshine. Summer days And moonlight nights He led us over paths Bordered with pleasant flowers : but when His steps Were on the mighty waters — when we went With trembling hearts through nights of pain and loss— His smile was sweeter and His love more dear ; And only Heaven is better than to walk With Christ at midnight over moonless seas." A SONG OF THE RIVER. ANY waters go softly dreaming On to the sea \ But the River of Death floweth softest N£5j? By tower and tree ; By smiling village and meadow, In the morning light ; By palace-gate and by cottage, In the dim hush of night. No sigh when the wistful moonlight Seeks that cold breast — No smile when the gold of sunset Burns in the west — No rush of the mournful waters Breaks on the ear — To tell us, when Life is strongest. That Death flows near. A SONG OF THE RIVER. 79 But through throbbing hearts of cities, In the heat of the day, The cool dark River passeth On its silent way : And where the Good Shepherd leadeth To pastures green, Ever the dark " still waters" Of Death are seen. This is the River that " follows" Where'er we go : No sand so dry and thirsty But these strange waters flow. To fainting men in the desert No living streams appear \ But the waters of Death rise softly, Solemn and clear. And down to the silent River, By night and day, Old men and maidens wander evei, And pass away. 80 A SONG OF THE RIVER. Some go with the voice of thanksgiving And melody ; And some in silence at midnight, When none are by. Some go where the smiling meadows Sweep to the River-side, And the pale, sweet flowers are blowing Close to the solemn tide. They wander gently downward, As the sun sinks low, And linger amongst the pleasant flowers In the purple glow — Till they hear a strange wind blowing Across the tide, And a long, low sigh through the rushes By the River-side, And the hour is come for crossing To the silent shore : We may watch and wait for their coming, - They shall return no more. A SONG OF THE RIVER. 81 And some are summoned at midnight, To cross in haste Where the banks are steep and frowning, And the land lies waste : No tender smiling of sunset, No pale death -flowers, Which can make the banks of the River sweet In dying hours ; Only a sudden leaping From the frowning height To the cold dark breast of the River — And then the silence of night. Many waters go softly dreaming On to the sea ; But the River of Death floweth softest To thee and me. We have trod the sands of the desert Under a burning sun : Oh, sweet will the touch of the waters be To feet whose journey is done ! 6 82 A SONG OF THE RIVER. Unto Him whose love has washed us Whiter than snow, We shall pass through the shallow River With hearts a-glow. For the Lord's voice on the waters Lingereth sweet : " He that is washed needeth only To wash his feet" NOT FORSAKEN. 4,r I'he Master saith, Where is the guest-chamber f f> ~j|HE day was ended, and the shadows fell Along the street. I heard a distant bell, That seemed to ring in heaven, so soft and faint Its voice upon the air. I thought, Some saint Is summoned Home — some soul will recognize The low mysterious call, and will arise To go unto the Father. Ah ! for me Will any sweet home-going ever be ? I made my nest too dear on earth ; and now That God has swept it bare, will He allow My hope to build in Heaven ? I stood beside My door — the door that might be left so wide, For there were none within to feel the chill Of the evening wind ; and men were passing still 84 NOT FORSAKEN. Each to his home and friends ; the street would soon Be cold and wide beneath the pale Spring moon. And as I listened to the hurried beat Of those home-going footsteps, still more sweet And more appealing came the heavenly call Of that soft bell, which seemed to pray us all To look Above, and see how faint and far The lights were gleaming where God's mansions are But I had suffered loss, and sought in vain To comfort me, and to forget the pain Of Desolation in my heart. Can skies That sweep above me, grand with mysteries, And rich in worlds of light, atone to me For one lost smile on earth 1 Alas ! that smile To me was sun and stars. A little while, And it was darkened. Lord, I worship Thee Alone to-night — alone, and desolate. How sweet it was for two to watch the gate Of Paradise ! — how sad for one to stand And look alone across a dreary land, And think how long the journey to the grave ! To-night I see no golden banners wave Along the towers of heaven ; I hear no sound Of victors shouting loud on Holy Ground ; NOT FORSAKEN. 85 And ever as I look along the street, And watch the passers-by, and hear the sweet Low calling of the bell, I am aware Of the dead silence in the House, nor dare To turn and look within. Better to stand Here at the door, and watch the shining band Of stars led forth by God, although their light Can comfort me no more. Those glances bright, In times gone by, did thrill me ; all sweet things In Heaven and Earth were full of murmurings — Vague, infinite, and beautiful — as the sound Of many waters. On enchanted Ground Our feet were standing then : now silence falls On me, who stand alone. The jasper walls Gleamed on me awfully to-night, as set The burning sun on earth ; and, stranger yet, The gentle moon is turned to be my foe, Reproaching me from heaven : I loved her so In the dear time that's gone \ but all things now Look sorrowful on me. One dwelt awhile In the guest-chamber of my heart, whose smile Made summer sunshine all the year to me ; Whose lightest word broke, rich in melody, 36 NOT FORSAKEN, To cheer my soul. But Winter came ; my guest Went forth, with sad face, toward a clouded West, And I was left alone. That bitter night I sat astonished, till the unmeaning light Of dawn broke on my heart, and showed how bare It was. The evening and the morning were The first day of an empty life to me. I rose, and set my window wide to the free Fresh East, and knelt as I was used. May He Who loved us unto death, forget the prayer I prayed that day ! The angels standing fair, Hand clasped in hand, around the Throne of Love, With deep untroubled hearts, that never strove To bear the sense of loss, could never know To pity me. But Thou, the unspeakable glow Of Godhead, brighter than the sun at noon, Dwells on a Face which, pale beneath the moon, Was kissed by a betrayer ; and those eyes Bear in their infinite depths the memories Of lonely tears and watchings. It is said They all — His dearest — left their Lord and fled. I have not been betrayed, only bereft Of my soul's Treasure ere the noon, and left NOT FORSAKEN. 8 J To live an empty life ; yet pity me From the dim heights of woe, which were to Thee Mysteriously familiar. Thou wilt blot From Thy dread Book the bitter prayer which sought No pity then. I rose at length, and swept My heart, and garnished it, and never wept When all the precious things were laid away Which might remind me of the summer day, Now gone for ever. All the morning hours The sun poured richly through the windows wide Into the vacant rooms. I brought sweet flowers, And decked the house. " Let fragrant things abide Even in the Chamber still, from which the guest Is gone for ever. Here let sunshine rest, And the glad breezes enter, laughing low And treading soft. Then I shall come and go Without this heavy sense of loneliness Oppressing me. These simple guests will bless The haunted Chamber. Still, I felt a Dread. I felt it as the Presence of the Dead Is felt through all the house, and not alone In the dim Chamber, veiled with white, where moan And prayer are stilled at last. The golden grace Of sunlight, pouring through the desolate place, 88 NOT FORSAKEN. Could neither warm nor cheer. The chill of Death Pierced me like bitter wind, and still its breath Swept from that empty room. I rose once more, And, with a trembling hand, I locked the door, And cast the key away. " Henceforth shall none Find lodging in my heart ; why should I keep A desolate guest-chamber, where the sun And flowers grow pale, and where my soul must weep Her shattered joy and life?" ****** At length the night Was closing in ; the young moon, pale and bright, Showed a deserted street. That distant bell Seemed to draw nearer, till its strange beats fell, Like knockings of some hand, upon the door Within my heart. At length it died away, As soft waves die upon a silver shore ; And as it sank to silence, suddenly One stood before my house and spake to me, A stranger's voice ; I had not heard its sound In other days, yet surely with a bound My heart leapt up to claim it, as the tone Of one Beloved. He stood in the street alone, NO T FORSAKEN. 8 9 And all the Night did seem to feel the power Of that strange Presence, and the dark'ning hour Trembled, as if the very dawn were there, And the stars brightened in their courses, where God's Angels drive them, gloriously fair. And I — I felt His Presence, as the night Had felt it, with a vague and soft delight, As if my Dawn were come to me. Once more He made, in the tone which thrilled my heart before, The same request : " I would abide with thee This night ; — forbid Me not, but let Me see The chamber for thy guests." Alas ! that word Did waken me, as with a sudden sword, And I made answer (though I think I knew Who spake to me) : " This dreary, mournful place Which once was Home to me, and showed a face Of welcome unto all who came, is now No longer meet for guests : I can allow None such to enter." I denied Him rest And my heart's shelter ; he who loved Him best Said, long ago, " He came to His own, and they Received Him not;" — it was fulfilled that day Once more in me. 90 NOT FORSAKEN. He did not speak. He turned And looked upon me. How that strange look burned Its image on my soul — so sad, so sweet, So awful ! — there I sank down at His feet, And thought that Death had struck me with Christ's look. And hoped it too : alas ! how would He brook, In days to come, the sight of one whose door Had thus been closed to Him 1 But bending o'er My sinful head, He murmured, soft and low, " God will forgive thee. Father, be it so ; He knew not what he said." It was the voice Of the High Priest interceding. Men rejoice At sudden sounds of music, but to me Was given that night to hear the melody Of music's secret Fountain. Sweet it rose Beneath the answering stars, ev'n as it flows Where burns the sevenfold Sun. I could have lain All night at those dear feet ; but once again He bent to me, and took me by the hand, And I was given strength to rise, and stand Before the Lord. " Master," I said, with tears And tremblings in the night, " if bitter years Should be appointed me, because my soul Refused so sweet a Guest, yet let them roll NOT FORSAKEN. 9' All heavily and slowly over me As chariots of wrath, till utterly They crush my heart ; I shall not think the fate Too hard for such a sin. And at the Gate Of Death and Sorrow I will look for Thee !" But He made answer, low and tenderly, In the voice that charmed my very soul from me . 6 The bitterness of Death behind thee lies, And not before. Henceforth shall mysteries Of heavenly Love be with thee from the Lands Of Light. The chamber built for me of old Was given to another ; but, behold ! This night I come — I come, whose right it is." A low r wind swept the street ; from heights of bliss The fair stars smiled on us. Still lower bent The Master over me : " Thy soul is spent With a most needless doubt \ thou shalt not tear The lost one's image from thy heart ; forbear The thought that I would have it so : to th' End /loved Mine own. I am the faithful Friend, And know no change. Thy steadfast prayer shall rise Morning and evening, for the name that lies So near thy heart." Thus, more than Conqueror, He entered. As His fragrant garments swept 92 NOT FORSA KEN The threshold of the house, the inner door Flew open for my Lord. A voice, that wept In that lone chamber of my heart, was stilled For ever at His entrance. Music filled The house — and Light, and Peace. Oh, haunted soul. Down whose dim corridors for ever roll The voices of the dead ; whose Holy Ground Re-echoes, at the midnight hour, with sound Of feet that long ago were laid to rest Yet trouble thee for ever ! lo, a Guest Is waiting at the Gate ; and unto Him Thou shalt bemoan thy Dead, and He will take Sweet words and comfort thee. Thine eyes are dira But stretch thine hands to Him ; He will not break The bruised reed. Or, are thy dearest still With thee on Earth, do their sweet voices fill The house with singing 1 Let the fairest room Be for the Master's use, and from His shrine Blessing and peace shall rest on thee and thine. ONE BY ONE. " I will come again, and receive you unto Myself." *' The Master is come, and calleth for thee." IOT sweeping up together, In whirlwind or in cloud, In the hush of the Summer weather, Or when storms are thundering loud ; But one by one they go, In the sweetness none may know. In secret love the Master To each one whispers low. "I am at hand; work faster; Behold, the Sunset-glow !" And each one smileth sweet Who hears the Master's feet. Have we not caught that smiling On some beloved face, 94 ONE BY ONE. As if a Heavenly sound were wiling The soul from our earthly place % The distant sound, and sweet, Of the Master's coming feet. We may clasp the loved one faster, And plead for a little while ; But who can resist the Master % And we read by that brightening smile That the tread we may not hear Is drawing surely near. Or in the hush of the Summer weather, In the golden afternoon, As we watch by a friend's sick-bed together And murmur, " Better soon ;" — Sudden, the Master's feet May be heard in the sunny street ! Till then no dream of dying Had flashed through the sick man's heart But a sudden smile on his face is lying, And the soul rises up to depart At the sound of those gentle feet, Which come up through the sunny street. ONE BY ONE. 95 Or perchance he lieth sleeping, With weary hand and head, And does not hear our weeping, Nor the sound of that solemn tread, Telling the hour is come For his returning Home : Then we whisper low together, " Behold, the Master's feet ! He comes through the sunny weather, Up by the smiling street ; We had no thought, or fear, That the hour had come so near :" Then, trying to still our weeping, With trembling lips we say, "We must break on this silent sleeping. We must prepare His way;" And we stoop to murmur low, "Are you ready, dear, to go? ' The Master is come, and calleth For thee ; He is at the door ; Awake ! for His shadow falleth Already across the floor; 9 6 ONE BY ONE. Are you ready, dear, to go With Him who loveth so '?" Then a sudden voice of gladness, — As our earthlier voices cease; — " After my years of sadness, He bringeth tidings of Peace \ How beautiful are His feet, Which shine from the Golden Street !" And gently enters the Master, Through the room His garments sweep, And our trembling hearts beat faster, And our eyes forget to weep — Though we can hear Him say, " Thou shalt be there to-day." As one whom his mother comforts* He lays the soul on His breast, But He draweth the curtains closely As it enters into Rest ; And none may see it go, Away through the sunset-glow : He hath hushed the worn frame sweetly, He hath soothed the Death-alarms, ONE BY ONE. 97 Till it lieth asleep completely In the Everlasting Arms ; We know not the soul is gone, Till the Lord is found alone. Or when the storm-rain dasheth Across the wintry night, And the wild, red lightning flasheth, Like Angels' swords of light ; And we pray for sailors' souls, As the sea in thunder rolls : Behold, as we kneel down trembling, The thunder crasheth free, The Door bursts open wildly, And startled, we rise to see — Serene, and still, and fair, The Master standing there ! He looketh upon us sweetly, With his well-known greeting, " Peace," And He fills our hearts completely, And the sounds of the tempest cease; But we know the hour is come For one of us to go Home. 7 9# ONE BY ONE. On all the sweet smile falleth Of Him who loveth so, But to one the sweet Voice calleth, "Arise, and let us go; They wait to welcome thee, This night at Home, with Me." — Not sweeping up together, In whirlwind or in cloud, In the hush of the Summer weather, Or when storms are thundering loud ; But one by one we go, In the sweetness none may know. Not pressing through the Portals Of the Celestial Town, An Army of fresh Immortals, By the Lord of Battles won ; But one by one we come, To the Gate of the Heavenly Home ! That all the Powers of Heaven May shout aloud to God, As each new robe of Life is given, Bought by the Master's blood; ONE BY ONE. 99 And the Heavenly raptures dawn On the Pilgrims, one by one: That to each the Voice of the Father May thrill in welcome sw r eet, And round each the Angels gather With songs, on the shining street As one by one we go, To the Glory none may know. AMONG THE TREES. I. THE GARDEN OF EDEN. EARKEN ! The Voice of the Lord Among the trees, the goings of the King Stir the fair branches, in the golden air Of Sunset. Silently the soft dew falls, And softly, while it falls, the Lord comes down Like dew, upon His sinless earth ; and, lo ! The whole earth is at peace. The Peace of God, Which passeth understanding, keeps the heart Of sinless man, ev'n as it keeps in Heaven The Angel-hearts which burn before the Throne With love untold. And peace is on the face Of Nature, for no sin hath raised its hand To mar her ministry, and vex her in the work Of showing forth the Glory of her King : Her golden sun sinks gently in the west, Her sweet, soft winds are blowing from the south, AMONG THE TREES. ioi And bear no sound of mourning on their wings, And sweep across no graves. And, lo ! her King Comes down at evening-time to give her light : Hearken ! The Voice of the Lord ! The bending trees are murmuring at His Feet; And, here and there, a little bird sings still, Not trembling at His presence ; and the sound Of the four mighty rivers, as they go Compassing all the Garden by their strength, Makes a deep music in the twilight hour. Hearken ! It is a strong, triumphant Voice That mingles with those voices ; One who reigns And mourns not, whatsoever may betide, Is sending out His Voice, a mighty Voice. Hearken ! The Voice of the Lord ! And hearken yet again : the Voice of God Hath sounded ; and behold the voice of man Makes answer gladly; a most reverent voice, As well becometh his humanity, His frail, created soul and body, made By Him whose Voice hath sounded : yet a calm, Untroubled steadfastness is in the tone Of him who answers, and a boundless trust In God's great love. Thus, standing in his fair, Unspotted garments, lifting up his face, Which hath no stain, unto the face of God, [02 AMONG THE TREES. Man answered to the Voice. And in the sweet, Still sky the moon came forth to walk in white ; And God, the Blessed, with His blessed child Held commune, and the Angels went and came. And yet, it might be only the low wind Among the moonlit trees ; — but was there not, After the Voice of God, a sudden sound A little while ago, as of great wings Of Cherubim, who passed upon the wind % And, with the sound, the likeness of a sword Seemed to flash by. A sword in this sweet place ! Nay, let us hearken to the commune held Among the trees : how blessed is this place, Where God is worshipped by a sinless soul In perfect love ! There is no Temple here, For, even as it is in Heaven, God Himself is Temple. Hearken to the praise: And hearken, the Voice of the Lord ! II. — THE GARDEN OF GETHSEMANE. Hearken ! The Voice of the Lord Among the trees, the weary Olive-trees Which have been wrestlers with the bitter storms Of many years. Now do they bend their heads Above Another Wrestler, whom the storms Of God are bursting on. The river moans AMONG THE TREES. 103 A little in the vale, the angry clouds Hurry across the sky, and leave no door Open in Heaven. And upon the ground The Dew is falling heavily, strange Dew Of blood ; and hearken,— 'mid the falling Dew, — Hearken ! The Voice of the Lord ! A Voice of prayer, a broken, human Voice, Crying in agony, broken by tears, Appealing to His Name who saves the poor And sorrowful. The Voice of One who takes A cup into His hand, whereof no man May drink, and live. He takes it with a hand Which trembles greatly, for the cup is red, And full to overflowing with the wrath Of God Almighty. In that same dread hour The Lord's right hand did valiantly, for those Whom He had loved ; He took the cup, and drank And gave God thanks. Many shall call Him Blest And shall sit down with Him, to drink the cup Of joy at the Great Feast, for this His woe, And for the deeper Woe which followed fast. Hearken ! The Voice of the Lord ! Few heeded it on earth • what time He cried In agony, His earthly servants slept, And when He looked to see if any did Take pity on Him, none were found to heed T04 AMONG THE TREES, But to the ear of God His cry went up, And, through the wide Halls of the Father's House It echoed strangely ; till the Sons of God Stood silent in their places. And the Voice Of God spake out, commanding one to go With heavenly consolations, unto Him Whose cry came up before the holy Throne. Hearken ! The Voice of the Lord ! The Angel in his shining garments stands In the dim Garden, and beside the Man Whose face is marred with sorrow, on whose brow The shades of Death are gathering, and whose eyes Are dim with tears and watchings. And, behold ! The Angel veils his face with his white wings, — His face which is so bright from Heaven's own sun. His eyes which shine with an undying light,— Before this Countenance, which is so worn, So dim with anguish, and before those eyes Which are so near to Death. Yea, doth he veil His face more closely, in the Presence high Of this unconquerable love, this power To suffer all things, even unto Death ; Then he had veiled it, standing in the glow Of the great Sapphire Throne, and knowing not The depths and heights of this strong love of God Hearken ! The Voice of the Lord! AMONG THE TREES. 105 III.— THE GARDEN OF THE SEPULCHRE. Hearken ! The Silence of the Lord Among the trees ! We stand to listen here, Beside the Garden Gate, and the sweet wind Is rustling in the branches; and the stream Is stirring, where the lilies stand and shine In shady places ; and the little birds, Which tremble not in presence of the Dead, Sing sweetly; but their Lord is lying dumb, In midst of all His creatures, dumb and dead. Hearken ! The Silence of the Lord ! The broken voice, which pled with many tears In the deep shadows of Gethsemane, Is hushed, is done with tears and tremblings now; The seal of death is pressed upon the mouth Which spake as never any man did speak. Let us put of! our shoes from off our feet, And draw a little nearer, to behold The place where they have laid Him. This is He, God's Just and Holy One, in whom no guile Was found. The Lilies of the Valley stand Around His grave, and live, — and the sweet Rose From Sharon bendeth over Him, who called Himself "The Rose." — living, while He is dead. f06 AMONG THE TREES. Yea, all His flowers are standing in the sun, Arrayed in beauty, while He lieth wrapped In darkness. Oh, how dreadful is this place ! Hearken ! The Silence of the Lord ! This Silence speaketh with a thunder-voice. He sleepeth in His bloody, borrowed tomb, In darkness and in silence, with the dead ; — And, lo ! the City that hath slain the King Sleeps sweetly in the sunlight. Carelessly She had arranged, " His blood shall be on me, And on my children — let Him die the death :" And now she resteth, vexed by Him no more, And at her ease; and, lo ! she knoweth not That He has left her desolate. She sleeps In quietness, and the sun is on her face, And all her dreams are sunny. Never heed The blood upon her garments — never heed Although there lieth, at the City Gate, A Lamb as it had been slain. Was it not meet That one should die for all her people 1 See ! She smileth in her sleep, and will sleep on Till, in God's time, in the set time of Him Whom she hath slain, she must wake up to hear God's Judgments thunder at the City Gates Demanding blood for Blood. Then shall she be Most desolate of cities. Now, she sleeps ; AMONG THE TREES. 107 And hearken ! The Silence of the Lord I pierced hands, that were stretched out in vain All day to man, and stretched out at last — But not in vain — for man upon the Tree, At rest at last. O weary, wounded head, Marked with the Crown ! He said He had no place To lay His head, but He hath found a place. O feet, that hath been weary with the hills Of Ephraim and Judah, — going oft By stony mountain-tracks to seek His sheep, The lost sheep, scattered on the burning hills Of Israel ; — at rest, at rest, at last ! Hearken ! The Silence of the Lord ! For God hath given His Beloved sleep, And, through the sunny, sacred Sabbath hours, He takes His Sabbath rest, for all His work Is done. And, lo ! the Lord hath given charge Concerning Him unto His Angels \ and, Until the Day dawn, they do compass round The Sleeper. No one shall break through, to stir Our Love up till He please. Behold, how sweet And fragrant is His rest ! even these sad Death-garments smell of myrrh and precious spice, As it was written all His garments should, For God hath given His Beloved sleep ! Hearken ! The Silence of the Lord ! 108 AMONG THE TREES. IV. — THE GARDEN OF PARADISE. Hearken ! The Voice of the Lord Among the trees ! Forth by the waters still Of everlasting comfort, He doth lead His people ; and their sun shall set no more. And no rough winds shall ever rise, to blow Upon their heads. For God Himself doth keep This Garden : every moment with His dews Doth water it, and shine upon it with His Face. What time the sweet south winds do blow Upon the Garden, all the spices cast Their fragrance forth, and all the trees are stirred To heavenly music, and the people walk In white : and, lo ! the Lamb is in their midst. Hearken ! The Voice of the Lord Among the trees ! no more our fading trees, Which grew amongst our graves, and shiver oft In our rough winters, but fair trees that stand On either side His River, where the smile Of God is sunlight : trees whereon no harps Of mourners hang. Not coming down at eve, To walk a little while, and then depart, But, in this Garden walketh evermore The King of Peace. See ! this is He who lay In the earth garden dead, for the great love AMONG THE TREES. 109 Wherewith He loved the Church. Now doth He live For evermore ; and, lo ! the Church doth live, And walk with Him from henceforth in the skies. Hearken ! The Voice of the Lord ! And hearken yet again } for when His Voice Hath sounded out, behold, the voice of man Makes answer gladly. These be His redeemed, Who cease not, day nor night, to worship Him Who once was slain. Hearken ! the thunders roll Across the River ! Those who go from us To them, can catch the music, as they pass Through the dim waters, to the further side, — " Glory to God !" " Worthy the Lamb !" they cry Hearken ! The Voice of the Lord ! This is the Bridegroom's Voice. And we who stand Outside the door, and hear His Voice within, Rejoice, because we hear the Bridegroom speak In tones of joy. On earth He was a Man Of bitter sorrows : all the waves of God Went over Him. But He is comforted, And we rejoice for Him. A little while, A little while, and we shall stand without No more, to hear His Voice ; but enter in With joy unspeakable, to see His Face. THE MEETING-PLACE. |IHE daylight has faded over the sea, The shadows are gathering heavil) The waters are moaning drearily, And there is no haven in sight for me,— Only a black, wild, angry haven ; Only a rolling, moaning sea \ And a small, weak bark by the tempest driven Hither and thither helplessly. For I am alone on this moaning sea ; Alone, alone, on the wide, wild sea ! Only God stands by in the dark by me, But his silence is worse to bear than the moan Of the dreary waters that will not stay ; And I am alone — ay, worse than alone, For God stands by, and has nothing to say ! And Death is creeping over to me, — THE MEE TING- PL A CE. r i r Creeping across the drear black sea, — Creeping into the boat with me ! And he will sink the small, weak bark, And I shall float out in the dreary dark Dead, dead, on the wide, wild sea ; A dead face up to the cruel sky — Dead eyes that had wearied sore for the light, — A dead hand floating helplessly, Tired with hard rowing through all the night ; This is what thou shalt see, O God ! From thy warm, bright home beyond the cloud; Thou denied'st me light, though it overflowed, And there was not room for it all in heaven,— Thou denied'st one ray unto me, O God ! By the windy storm and tempest driven ; Thou shalt look on my lost face, God, and see What it was to die in the dark for me ! But I cannot reach Him with this wild cry, — I cannot reach Him with this poor hand ; Peaceful He dwells in the peaceful land, And the smile on his face is untouched by me — Only another Eternity lost, Only another poor soul gone down, Far out at sea while He smileth on ! The songs of Heaven are loud and sweet, And thrill His heart with joy ; it is meet H2 THE MEETING-PLACE. That He should not catch the far-off moan Of another soul undone — undone ! Here we part, O God ! Thou to thy life and light, To the home where thy dear ones gather to Thee I to my Death and Night, A lost thing, with nothing to do with Thee ; Drifting drearily out to sea. Thou hast stood by me through my long despair, Thou hast shut from Thee my feeble prayer ; Let us part, O God ! Through the darkness over the sea A voice came calling — calling to me, — A gentle voice through the angry night, And I thought, " Some one else is out to-night, Out — out — on the wide, wild sea ; Can it be any one seeking me % " So I answered as well as I could from my place, Though the wind and rain were beating my face i And through the darkness — over the sea — Still the voice came calling, calling to me ; Nearer and nearer it came to me, And one came into the boat from the sea. THE MEE TING- PL A CE. 1 1 3 The wind fell low round my little bark As a wounded hand touched mine in the dark, And a weary head on my breast was laid ; And a trembling voice, as of one whom pain Had done to death, in a whisper said, — " I had nowhere else to lay my head." m. And it was thus that He came to me : I had spoken against Him bitterly. As of one who sat smiling on in heaven, — Smiling and resting peacefully, — While I was perishing tempest-driven ; But it was thus that He came to me, Through the deep waters struggling on, Wherein standing or foothold found He none ; The wild wind beating about His face, Fainting and sinking in that dark place ; He had been weary and far from home, Struggling forsaken, alone — alone ! So out in the night on the wide, wild sea, When the wind was beating drearily, And the waters were moaning wearily, I met with Him who had died for me. 8 THE MAN OF GOD FROM JUDAH.* ~j|LAS, my Brother ! ' All the Land is still, iP Deep-folded in the solemn wings of night ; And on the soft and dreamy plains of Heaven God leadeth forth His armies, to the sound Of some celestial harmony. The wind That blew at sunset from the open Gates Of the golden City, — which at evening-time Stands smiling in the west, — has died away Upon the distant sea. The whole Earth rests, And is at peace ; content at heart, it seems, After the glory of her sunset dreams, To taste the soft mysterious gloom of Night, And lie entranced beneath its darkened skies, In something like that sleep, wherewith the Lord * i Kings xiil. THE MAN OF GOD FROM JUDAH. 1 1 5 Gives His Beloved rest. Yet even now There falls a voice of sorrow on the Night, — The sweet calm Night, not made for troubled cry And restless moan, — and still it says, " Alas ! Alas, my Brother ! " And behold the form Of one who kneels beside a sepulchre, And bitterly bemoans his Dead. The stars Shine on his lifted face, — an old man's face,— Swept by the winds of sorrow and remorse. " Alas, my Brother ! By this lonely grave \ His grave, and mine ; how often have I knelt Through burning days and bitter nights, to mourn And weep for him. In the hard winter-time, When snow is on the hill, and icy storms Sweep down from Lebanon, I mourn for him. And when the spring-time comes, the flowers returr, And voices of the singing-birds are heard Through all the Land, once more I mourn for him No voice can reach him, in the Spring of the year, Whispering sweetly, " Lo, the winter-time Is past and gone, rise up and come away ! " He dreameth on, as careless of the Spring And all the musical soft stir of life, As of the troubled winds that fight and moan Above his head in winter. 1 16 THE MAN OF GOD FROM JUDAH. Yet a while, A little while, and I shall go to him Who will not come to me. He, rising not To let me in, yet draws me to his side, And I shall shortly yield, and sleep with him It may be that, this very night, my God, After so long a time, will think of me And call me into Peace. He reckons up The number of my sins ; He knows this stain Of guiltless blood, that burns upon the hem Of a Prophet's garment ; yet, my God, I think That I, even I shall be as white as snow When I am dead. I know, or think I know, That my Redeemer liveth. O my God ! — Most terrible, most terrible,— to Thee My heart repeats this night its history, And, through the darkness, looketh to Thy Face. Thou knowest, only Thou, the old, old years When, in the Spring of life, my heart was Thine, And Thou wert mine. Then would I pass long days And solemn nights, afar from homes of men, That I might be alone, alone with Thee, And hear Thy voice, and see, perhaps, some gleam Of angel-feet upon the Desert-ground, Making it joyful, as with Summer-showers. THE MAN OF GOD FROM JUDAII. i fj No simple human pleasures, dear to hearts More free than mine, had any charm for me : I only lived to hear the voice of God, For He had visited my soul, and mine It was to bear the Prophet's glorious doom. Thou knowest, Lord, because Thou knowest all, And yet Thou knowest not (having no part In flesh or blood) the thrill and throb of soul And body, when to mortal lips is laid Thy coal of living fire : * — and when our eyes, — Used only to the curtained gloom of Earth, — Are lightened suddenly to meet the Sun. Thou knowest, but for angels ministering, The Prophet's heart would fail and break, between The rapture and the pain. Oh ! blessed eyes That see, before their time, Thy mysteries, And blessed ears that hear Thy glorious voice Peal through the rending sky ; but blessed too Are those who have not seen, who have not heard, And yet believe. They walk, in faith and hope, Through the soft darkness of a Summer-night, Lighted by gleamings of the silver stars, And see no awful glories of the Sun Till the Dawn breaks in Death. But, having seen The brightness of Thy Presence, having felt * Isaiah vi. 6. 1 1 8 THE MAN OF GOD FROM JUDAH. The winds of Heaven blow upon my brow, And having tasted of Thy cup, my God, How could / ever be content to wait, As other servants, in Thy courts by night % — And therefore went I mourning many days, When visions of Thy Glory ceased to haunt My waiting soul. Was it for sin of mine Thou hadst withdrawn % or was my mission o'er ? Thou knowest, Lord : I only know I mourned Too bitterly and wildly at the Doors Which Thou hadst closed in Heaven, seeking not To wait by night, in humble trust, on Thee, But ever thirsting, burning, for the Word Which Thou hadst taken from me. When the Storm Broke suddenly at midnight through my dreams, Hast Thou not seen me rise and hurry forth, Braving the terrors of the awful night, In hope of catching but one word from Thee ? Ah ! how I vainly waited for but one Articulate utterance of the Thunder-voice Which shook both Earth and Heaven. And when Dawn Broke full of tender promise, low I knelt — Praying that on its fragrant breath might come The still small voice of God \ but the sweet wind THE MAN OF GOD FROM JUDAH. I 19 Swept silently across my prayers, and bore Perhaps to other ears the messages Refused to mine. It was a bitter fight, And Thou wert strong and silent, and I grew More reckless, drawing further from Thy hand For all that fervid longing, once again To hear Thy voice. Thou knowest how I dwelt Alone amongst Thine enemies, and saw Strange altars rising up to other gods, And would not speak for Thee, as any man Who loved Thee might have done — not being allowed To speak with wonders and with signs from Heaven. And that dark day, which was to see the King Stand forth, defying God, before the Land, I tarried, heavy and displeased, for Thee Within my house \ yet would not kneel to pray For my lost Israel, and would not weep For Thy great Name denied. The hours wore on, And they returned to me, who had beheld That morning's wonders. I, a man bereft And God-forsaken, heard how God that day Had spoken to the King, and done great things In all the people's sight. I heard, and knew Mine office taken by another. God. 20 THE MAN OF GOD FROM JUDAH, Who saw me waiting, panting for His Word, As for the water pants the thirsty hart, Had called a man across the distant hills, And giv'n to him my word, my message dread, My courage to defy Death and the King, And vindicate God's glorious Name from wrong And to my heart I said, I will arise To seek the man who took my place this day : For I must look into his face, and hear His voice repeat the message, — dying then, And leaving him mine office. Dark and cold, And cruel too, my heart that day : I smiled To think how terrible the legacy Which I would leave to him who took my place ;— An office which a man would scarcely hold And live, — a gift of burning coal, to hands Which must not tremble, holding it for God, — A robe of costly white, on which one stain Meant shame and death. I went to seek the man, And found him sitting, weary, by the way, With that deep weariness I knew so well When I too bore the Burden of the Lord. I did not spare the man who came to take My holy office ; I betrayed that day The faithful soul to death. I brought him home, THE MAN OF GOD FROM JUDAH. J 21 By that vain tale, that God, the God of Truth, Had changed the thing He spake. I brought him home, And gave him meat and drink, against the Word Which God had spoken. He was weak and faint, And worn with fasting ; and he sat with me To eat and drink. And whilst we sat at meat, And converse held, I almost loved the man, Though he should take my place. In that same hour The Prophet's inspiration I had sought So eagerly from God through weary nights And thirsty days, rushed in upon my soul. Ah ! God is terrible ! He gives to man The gift too wildly sought, and gives it so That we had rather died beneath His sword. Once more my soul dilated, at the sound Of Doors that opened to the Future. High My heart beat at the breath of God, once more Breathing on me from Heav'n. I knew not yet What manner of Vision this should be, but full My soul swept on between its banks, to meet That Thunder of the Sea : — till the meaning burst Articulate and awful from my mouth, Searing the lips that spake it 122 THE MAN OF GOD FROM JUDAH. Thus 1 cried, By sudden inspiration, to the man, Who sat at mine own table, " Thou shalt die, Dishonoured, and in exile : none shall sleep Beside thee, whom thou lovest, for this day Thou hast forgotten God, and disobeyed The mandate of His mouth." And it was /, I, who had tempted him with lying words, Whom God appointed to pronounce His doom. The Prophet whom I had betrayed, gazed full Into my face (as one who meets with Death, In some strange solitude, may look on him) With eyes that slowly darkened, as they gazed, Till all their light was quenched. A thick cloud swept Between God and his soul, and at noon-day The sun went down. And when I ceased to speak,— Like a strong man awaking from a dream, He sighed, and moved, — then rose up in our midst, And with no word to me or mine, set forth Alone upon his way. ***** I heard them speak Around me, when I wakened from my swoon, What time the sun was stooping toward the sea, THE MAN OF GOD FROM JUDAH. 123 Of one who had been slain that day, and calm Slept by the way, a Lion watching him. I knew it must be he, ana I arose, And gathered up my wasted strength, to seek And find my Dead. It was for me alone He waited there ; far, far from those he loved. For me he lay in Death \ and only I, Throughout all Israel, had right to mourn And bury him. At length I found my Dead. The sun was sinking in a burning sea, And all the waiting hills around were swept By changing lights of purple and of gold, And on the rich bright air the fragrance rose Of evening flowers. And thus I came to him. The wild rash Monarch of the forest stood And gazed toward him spell-bound, with eyes that wore A glare of terror, — and I was aware Of Angels keeping watch about the Dead, With wings of terrible white, that took no glow From all that glorious sunset in the West. I wore no armour, like to his, who lay Uplifted in the solemn arms of Death Too high for fear or wrong ; yet I, — undone, Defenceless, weak in anguish and remorse, — f24 THE MAN OF GOD FROM JUDAH I braved them all ! I faced the Messenger Of Death, who waited, eager for his prey, Until the Angel-guard should move or change ; And those white Angels, with their lightning swords, And eyes more terrible to sinful men Than sword or spear, I braved them at their watch ; And worst of all to face — I strung myself To meet the look of him I had betrayed, Awful in death, and dark with the wrath of God Which had awakened on him. I knelt down And saw his face. O God, my God, this night, And every night, I bless thee for that look He wore in sleep ! The look of one, to whom After a hopeless night had risen a Sun, Too wonderful and sweet for waking eyes. He lay asleep, forgiven and asleep. Ah ! the closed eyes were not too darkly veiled For me to read the secret of theii light, And the locked lips betrayed it, in a look Which said the soul had smiled at its going forth. With something like a tear upon his cheek, And something like a child's surprise and joy At unexpected sight of home and friends, He lay asleep. Dear in the sight of God The death of all His saints. THE MAN OF GOD FROM JUDAH. 1 25 Was it this look. Which angeis saw on the great Prophet's face. When, for one stain upon the whitest robe Of meekness ever worn by saint on Earth, He lay in Death, alone, upon the Mount % Rejected from his leadership, denied An entrance into the Beloved Land, — Yet given a most sweet vision of that Rest, Prepared for Israel \ and drawn at the last So close to the forgiving heart of God, Men say he died of that Divine caress.* God, who art so terrible to those Who fail and fall beneath Thy Burden, still Thy mercy waiteth, and Thou givest a man Such peace at the last, as only broken hearts Can taste, or dream of. ***** Safe from Angel's sword Or Lion's deadly spring, by help of God, 1 knelt to gaze on him, with thanksgiving ; Then raised him up, and bore him from the place. We travelled slowly home, my Dead and I, And as we went, what awful questionings I held with him ! The moon came forth and walked In solemn brightness with us through the night, * Referring to the Jewish tradition that Moses died at the kiss of God 126 THE MAN OF GOD FROM JUDAH. And God was with us as we went ; our God Who had dealt wondrously with him who slept, And would forgive me also : though my sins Are countless as the sands. With that sweet look Of heavenly comfort on my Brother's face, God gave me peace. I long to sleep with him And know the secrets of that speechless Rest. It may be that, this very night, my God, After so long a time, will think on me And call me to Himself. And yet my soul Is almost like a weaned child, and rests, Content in Him, and cannot ask for Death." % * * * * The stars grow pale ; a low wind from the East Is springing, faint and chill. Now, fair on Earth The new Day breaketh, — but a sweeter Dawn Has visited the Prophet's weary heart, And in its light he sleepeth. For behold ! The silver cord was broken in the Night, And the loosened soul has found its rest in God PASSING SOULS. AY and night God standeth, Scanning each soul as it landeth Pale from the Passion of Death, Cold from the cold dark River,— As staggering, blind with Death, With trembling steps, yet fleet, Over the stones of darkness They stumble up to His feet. Oh, might they but fall down there. And not have to face the glare Of His awful smile or frown ! — For a little space just to fall down With white face hid at His feet, And gather a little strength, And hope for a little sweet, After the bitter River, And then to look up at length And grasp at God's Forever ! t2S PASSING SOULS. But this can never be, For the people pass over fast, — Even as a stream across the Stream, Or as the visions across a dream ; As a cloud of doves to their windows fiy, The clouds of souls unto God flit by. Sweeping across the dreary River Day and night to the dread Forever. After the Nameless Woe, The struggle in darkness alone, With the Angel dim and strong, With the Angel of the River, Who showeth mercy never, What strength have we left to stand On the shores of the shadowy Land And to meet the Face of God 1 Day and night God standeth, Scanning each soul as it landeth, Bearing the anguished gaze Of many a darkening face, As the living souls wax faint and dim Beneath a righteous frown from Him, Seeing the last hope fall and fade, PASSING SOULS, 1 29 As the spirits fail before Him, And the souls that He had made. Watching with pitying, yearning eyes The souls that refused His Paradise. And have nowhere else to go this day,— Till the fearful winds of Night arise, Sweeping the shuddering souls away To the Land where none can hope or pray ; Whilst again and again the bitter cry Of those driven souls in agony Re-echoes along the misty shore, Where the dead are gathering evermore. O homeless souls ! wind-driven and tost, Henceforth to find no resting-place, But ever along the shores of the Lost To be swept by the living storms of God, — Ye had a fair and bright abode On the other side of the misty River, Where ye would fain have dwelt for ever : And ye would not hear the voice of One Who sweetly prayed beneath moon and sun,- Let Me prepare a place for thee Beyond the River, to dwell with Me. 9 130 PASSING SOULS. Day and night God standeth, Scanning each soul as it landeth,— Watching the dim, sweet smile That shines in that shadowy place On many a Death -washed face ;— Watching to see the victor-light In His children's eyes as they struggle free From the waves of their dread Death-agony. Day and night Christ standeth, Scanning each soul as it landeth \ — Over the floods He bendeth With a face which hath been dead, With a mouth which once did cry From these waves in agony, " The waters go over My head !" And when His children rise To pass through the dreary River ; To the Shore they had not trod, Unto the Face of God, — Though their eyes grow blind with Death, And they stumble in the Stream As men in a deadly dream, Christ stretcheth forth His hand, — PASSING SO ULS. 1 3 1 A gentle, pierced hand, — And draws them safe to Land. Not as the others came, But holding fast by a mighty Name,— With trembling smiles of victory — As those who vanquish while they die — They pass through the misty River, To the shore of the dim Forever. After the Nameless Woe, After the dreary strife Of the failing life with Death, How sweet it will be to meet the glow Of His smile who watcheth beside the River, And to feel that the smile shall shine for ever ■ THE WELL OF BETHLEHEM. i. HE King was faint with battle ; and he stood With weary face and garments rolled in blood An exile from the city of his God. The heat and burden of the day were sore ; And he must see, with hope deferred, once more The sunshine fade from every hill and dale, And twilight fold his land of Israel. His captains stood around him ; but the king Forgot the clangour and the glittering Of sword and spear, and all the pomp of war: Towards the sunset stood the low gray hill Of Bethlehem afar. He saw a vision of the old sweet days When, as the custom is in Israel, His mother went along the shady ways By moonlight to the well : THE WELL OF BETHLEHEM. 133 Even in the desert hot and desolate He felt again the touch of that sweet breeze — He heard the murmur of the olive-trees That wave beside the gate. Fair vision this for warrior of might, Athirst and weary from the headlong fight ! Above him fiery heavens, and beneath The bitter waters of the Sea of Death : And, " Oh, that one would bring to me," he said, u Or e'er it be too late, Of the water from the Well of Bethlehem, Which is beside the gate ! " Three mighty men, full armed for the fight, Burst through the foemen with resistless might, And brought unto the king, What time the night fell late, Of the water from the Well of Bethlehem, Which is beside the gate. The king once more beside his captains stood, And to the mighty men he bent his head. " My warriors do great things for me," he said ; " But this cup I do hold for these men's blood : I may not drink — I pour it out to God." 134 THE WELL OF BETHLEHEM. II. The Earth was faint with battle \ and she lay With weary face and garments rolled in blood. An exile from the presence of her God, Through all the heat and burden of the day. The noise confused of her great captains, shouting Hoarsely against each other in the fight, And the deep voice of all creation groaning, Gave her no rest by either day or night : And all her pleasant seas were turned now To seas of death, and could not cool her brow. And as she lay, and fevered with the pain Of her long anguish, in a dream she turned again To that sweet home which God had laid upon her breast In the far spring-time for her children's rest \ And His own presence in the garden, and His Word, Which, mingled with the breeze, her soft trees stirred, Had given her a fountain ever sweet, And ever springing round His blessed feet, Where Earth might drink, and smile, and praise her Lord And in her dream she lifted up her voice, And, " Oh, that one would bring to me," she said, " While I in anguish wait, Of the water from the Well of Paradise, Which is beside the gate ! " THE WELL OF BETHLEHEM. 135 A mighty Man, full armbd for the fight, Burst through the foemen with resistless might — Not heeding that the angel of the gate Did pierce Him sorely with his sword of light — And brought unto the Earth, What time the night fell late, Of the water from the Well of Paradise, Which is beside the gate. Meekly, with covered face and bended head, " He hath done matchless things for me," she said " This water I do hold for this Man's blood ; I take the cup and drink — and live to God." BEYOND THE SHADOW. Written for the comfort of a dear friend, who had been speaking of one " gone before," and saying, " Oh, how I think of her at nights, lying out in the cold churchyard when the snow is on the ground ! " AST thou thought of me at night, dear, When the snow was on the ground, |p And the cold wind moaning past the house With its dreary, wailing sound 1 When the rest were gathered gladly In the cheerful light at home, And smiled and talked of their pleasant life And of happy years to come — While the storm beat on the window, And its voice was hoarse and loud — Did thy thoughts go away from the smiling friends, To visit the friend in her shroud ? — BEYOND THE SHADOW. 137 To one who lay out in the storm there, Though the snow was on the hill, And the rain beat wild on the graveyard, And her bed was low and chill ] She, too, had sat in the fire-light, And smiled with life like these ; Now let her lie still in her churchyard chill, With the snow about her face. When they sang sweet songs to thee, dear— Those friends in their cheerful light — Hast thou thought of the dreary voices That murmur across my night ? — The voice of the night-wind wailing. The voice of the wild bird's cry, The sound of the dead leaves falling, Where the dead men round me lie 1 Thou hast thought of me at nights, dear, When the snow was on the hill, And the fire-light danced upon thy face, Though that snow on mine lay chill. 138 BEYOND THE SHADOW. I have thought of thee at night, dear, Even as thou hast thought of me : I — come to the quiet haven ; Thou — out on the wintry sea. I have thought of thee at night, dear, When the night on earth went down : And thou wert out in the cold, dear, And I in the Father's home : I — in the quiet City, Where the sun shines evermore ; Thou — out in the night, with thy fading light, And thy face away from the door. I have thought of thee at night, dear, When the angels stood by me, And the House was filled with the victor-song, And the sound of the crystal sea : For I knew that the songs of sorrow Were the nearest unto thee, And the sound of the dreary river Which flows in the dark to the sea BEYOND THE SHADOW. 139 We used to talk of the glory, When I, too, stood outside ; Now I see the King in His beauty, In the far-off land abide. But the half of all His glory Had never been told to me, Nor the joy of the joyous city Which stands by the crystal sea, I have spoken to Him at nights, dear, When I sat low down at His feet, And the light of His overcoming smile Shone on till it seemed too sweet. Too sweet for one so worthless : Yet I felt it set me free ; And free to think of thee y dear — For He hath done all for me. When the earth-wind sounded drear) 7 . Far away outside the gate, I have said, " It bloweth chill on he? Will she not be home till late ? " 14° BEYOND THE SHADOW The sun was on the City — The sun on the golden street— And the light of His smile shone on a while, As His answer sounded sweet. He spake in the speech of heaven, — Which I may not tell to thee, Save this, " I have rest and peace for all Who seek for rest in Me." So He thinks of thee at nights, dear, When the cold night falls on thee, And His voice goes down, through storm and sun- " There is rest, dear one, with Me." And He'll think of thee at night, dear, When the last night cometh down, And the cold dew falleth, gleaming In the last gleam of the sun. When the death-wind from the valley Moaneth through the forests dim, " We will think of thee at night, dear, And thou shalt think of Hint" GOD'S DOOR. KJ|j3!HE night is dark, the Door stands wide, Rfl gjfij Oh, enter in and rest," they cried ; p^'^Wi " The night-wind moaneth down the street S^JV And the sound is over of passing feet, ▼ And the city grows quiet and desolate, — Thou art weary, the Door stands wide. Oh, enter in and rest," they cried. The night is dark, the Door is shut, The cold wind moaneth down the street, And one by one the lamps go out, Along the road, as I stand without, Without, in the cold, hard street. The night is dark, I long to go To my own bright home, in the home-like city ; 142 • GOD'S DOOR. I have caught its gleam through the darkening hours, As ever it gleams when the Tempest lowers, To draw me back to its love and pity : But alone, afar, I must watch to-night, Till the Lord arise, and give me Light. For I cannot go to my home in peace, I cannot rest at my own fireside, I cannot comfort my soul, and say, " We will come to the Door another day." There is no more light, or comfort, or ease, No home on earth evermore for me, Except Christ let me in, and come forth with me. I have caught the gleam of another Light, And the earthly joys have paled away. I lay asleep in the empty night, But God's touch wakened me up to see, And the Light of the World shone on me. A moment only, and then He was gone ; And a darkness grew up before my face Which my other nights had never known : So I rose and passed through the darkening city, Following Him who was gone before. I saw no Form, but some words of pity Were murmured across the twilight hour, And drew me along till I reached the Door. GOD'S DOOR. 143 But His voice is hushed, and the hours are long, And the Door is shut, and barred, and strong, And He is gone in, and has left me alone : Yet not alone, oh, not alone ! I see, by the light of the cold, wan moon, That others are watching the Door with me ; Old men and children, tremblingly, Watching by God's shut Door, like me. The watchers are pale in the dim moonlight, And with tears they wait till the Master rise ; And I think, as I see them stand in the night. — A little while and those weary eyes Shall see the Light. But as for me^ It is harder to think that /shall see, Though my heart is waiting too for Him. The sky is dark, the street is dim, The night-wind moaneth coldly by, And now and then I hear a sigh, From those who watch the door with me ; And now and then, when men go by, I hear them laugh aloud, to see How we wait in the night, O God, for Thee But the night wears on, the Door is shut, And I tremble to stand so long without, T44 GOD'S DOOR. Lest I die before I enter in ; For one came pressing up the street A while ago, with hasty feet, — One whom I did not care to greet, One whom I did not dare to meet — And I shook God's door with a sudden strain, When I heard the Sin-Avenger's feet ; Yea, I shook the Door, in vain, in vain. But I'll stand to the End at His fast-shut Gate : I will wait, and wait in the cold, hard street ; Perhaps in the dawn of the coming day, Perhaps when the night is on the wane, He may hear the sound of my wandering feet About the Door, and may call me in. The night is dark, the Door is shut, The cold wind moaneth down the street, And I, who stand no more without, Can hear the stormy Tempest's shout, And the call of the angry Sea. He has brought me in, from the desolate street ; He has brought me in, and my rest is sweet j For the Lord doth comfort me. COD'S DOOR. 145 The street was dark, the Door was shut, The third watch of the night was come, And all the dim lamps were gone out, And we seemed no nearer God and Home ; But the wind sank low in the dreary street, And the sky grew softer, almost sweet, And the stars came forth to gleam ; The night was changed, and hope sprang up, As hope might come in a dream. I thought, I will try to trust in God \ In the excellent Glory His abode Hath been from of old ; thence looketh He, And surely He cannot help seeing me. And I think, perhaps He thinks of me ; For my heart is with Him constantly, And I cannot go from His door, and say I have other good things, I will let Him stay. So I'll try to think that He thinks of me, And that His love holds me silently. The night was dark, the Door was shut But sweet thoughts of the blessed Name Of Him who died on Calvary Swept through my heart, and then there came in 146 GOD'S DOOR, Deep prayers that, in His mercy, He Would cast His white robe over me : I could not choose but kneel me down — My face upon His Threshold-stone — My heart embracing Him alone. Then, as I prayed, I was aware That some great Light was risen on me ; And, looking upwards in my prayer, I saw the Door was opened wide, And One was standing at my side It thrilled my heart to see. And so He took me into rest, From the dreaiy street with its shadows dim, To the sweet, sweet rest His children know, While their feet are tarrying still below. The other rest remains with Him, In the Upper Room of our Father's House, Where the Feast is spread for the Master's friends, And the song of their victory never ends. The night is dark, the Door is shut, I stand within the House of God ; But I hear the wind, as it moans in the street, And I hear the sound of the passing feet, GOD'S DOOR. 147 And sometimes I hear the trembling knock Of one who standeth outside the Door, Knocking and pleading more and more. And I pray to Him who took me in, To Him who forgave me all my sin, That those who wait in the dreary street, With trembling hands and weary feet, May also enter into rest, And dwell, like me, in His presence blest THE CHAMBER OF PEACE. ' The Pilgrim they laid in a large upper chamber, facing the sun-rising. The name of the chamber was Peace. " — Bunyaris Pilgrim's Progress. FTER the burden and heat of the day, The starry calm of night ; iP 1 After the rough and toilsome way, A sleep in the robe of white. O blessed Pilgrim ! we see thy face As an angel's face might seem, For, lying pale in that shadowy place, Thou dreamest a golden dream. The stars are watching the sleeping saint, And lighting the sleeping brow ; But the light of the stars is cold and faint To the glory he dreameth now : For the things that are hid from waking eyes Shine clear to the veiled sight ; THE CHAMBER OF PEACE. 149 From the chamber dim where the Pilgrim lies We can watch the fountains of light. The journey is over, the fight is fought, He hath seen the Home of his love ; And the smile on the dreamer's face is caught From the land of smiles above. We also have sometimes lain asleep In the blessed Chamber of Peace ; Too weary to wrestle, or watch, or weep, For a while the struggle must cease — We give thanks for the weakness that makes us lie So helpless and calm for a while \ The roar of the battle goes hoarsely by, And we hear it, in dreams, with a smile. Oh, sweet is the slumber wherewith the King Hath caused the weary to rest ! For, sleeping, we hear the angels sing, We lean on the Master's breast. Thou hast another Chamber, dear Lord — The secret place of peace, Where thy precious ones are safely stored, When their weary wanderings cease : 150 THE CHAMBER OF PEACE. After the burden and heat of the day, The starry calm of night ; After the rough and toilsome way, A sleep in the robe of white. The sacred Chamber is still and wide, You listen in vain for a breath ; And pale lie the sleepers, side by side, In the cold moonlight of death. No sighs are heard in the shadowy place, No voices of them that weep ; They have fought the fight, and finished the race — God giveth them rest in sleep. Are they dreaming, the sleepers pale and still ] For their faces are rapt and calm, As though they were treading the Holy Hill, And hearkening the angels' psalm : The things that were hid from waking eyes Shine clear to the veiled sight : In the last deep sleep the Pilgrims rise, To walk on the shores of Light. THE CHAMBER OF PEACE. 151 Oh, sweet is the slumber wherewith the King Hath caused the weary to rest ! For, sleeping, they hear the angels sing, They lean on the Master's breast. And sweet is the Chamber, silent and wide, Where lingers the holy smile Of a wayfaring Man, who turned aside To rest, long ago, for a while : He had suffered a sorrow which none may tell, He had purchased a Gift unpriced ; When His work was over the moonlight fell On the sleeping face of Christ : The face of a Victor, dead and crowned, With a smile divinely fair ; The saints and martyrs sleeping around Were stirred as He entered there :* His very Name is as ointment poured On the moonlight pale to-night \ And the Chamber is sweet to Thy servants, Lord, For the scent of Thy raiment white. * " And the graves were opened, and many bodies of the saints which slept arose" (Matt, xxvii. 52). 152 THE CHAMBER OF PEACE, The silent Chamber faceth the east, Faceth the dawn of the day, And the shining feet of our great High Priest Shall break through the shadows gray. The golden dawn of the Day of God Shall smite on the sealed eyes ; The trumpet's sound shall thunder around, The dreamers shall wake and rise. The night is over, the sleep is slept, They are called from the shadowy place 3 The Pilgrims stand in the glorious land, And gaze on the Master's face. NUMBERED WITH THE TRANSGRESSORS. ' In a dream, in a vision of the night, when deep sleep falleth upon men, then He openeth the ears of men, and sealeth their instruction." LOOKED, and the soul of a child of God Went up to God through the cloudy skies At the hour of the evening sacrifice, As the ransomed people go, one by one, To inherit the Kingdom beyond the sun. But not alone went the child of God, By that unearthly, cloud-girt road, For One bore him up as on eagles' wings. They passed by the gates of the setting sun, They passed by the pale stars one by one, Which shone like the thrones of heavenly kings; And the dark clouds swept through the darkening sky, Like chariots rushing before the Lord, And the stormy northern winds flew by, Fulfilling His royal and mighty word : 154 NUMBERED WITH THE TRANSGRESSORS. And, behold ! dark Angels, weary and tost, (With the awful look of a Heaven lost On their faces grand and sad,) Were passing athwart that stormy sky, And shivered and moaned, as the Lord went by — Christ did not make them glad. I looked till, up by the shadowy road, They two were come to the City of God ; And the glorious Angels, that ever stand By the gate of the City, on either hand, Beholding the royal face of Christ, Cast down their crowns of gems unpriced Before those weary feet ; And, " Lift up your heads on high, ye gates ! Behold, the King of Glory waits !" Rang down the golden street. Methought, at that joyful Angel-shout, On the face of Him who stood without, Some thought, of infinite joy or woe, Moved for a moment, mighty but dim : I could not read which it was to Him, And I did not see it come or go. NUMBERED WITH THE TRANSGRESSORS. 155 A moment He glanced up the shining street. Which no earthly sunbeams fill ; A moment he looked where — awful, yet sweet — The Glory Inaccessible Burneth upon the burning Throne, In the midst of Heaven, uplifted, alone. And again rose up the thunder-shout, " Come in, Thou Blessed of God the Lord ; Come in ; why standest Thou without ? We hail Thy coming feet ;" And, " Lift up your heads on high, ye gates ! Behold, the King of Glory waits !" Rang down the golden street. And then it seemed to me there fell, As falls in a dream by night, Perhaps an echo, perhaps a voice, But those mighty Angels did so rejoice, I could not hear aright, — " Father, if it be possible, — Behold, / stand at the door this night ; If it be possible :" — but from the Light Of the Glory Inaccessible, Which burneth ever, awful and still, No voice made answer. And then I think He said, speaking softly, " Shall I not drink 156 NUMBERED WITH THE TRANSGRESSORS, The cup that My Father giveth Me \ Surely I bear the heavy sin Of many, and cannot enter in To the Holy City of God the King. Thou shalt go in, My ransomed one 1 Behold, the doors stand wide for thee ! Behold, upon thy head the sun Of God is shining ! As for Me, I go to pay the Price, for thee And many, who shall walk in white Before the Throne of God this night. A little while, and My feet shall stand Within thy gates, Jerusalem ! A little while, and from the Land Of trouble and darkness /shall come And sit down to My rest at Home." There were two who went by the shadowy road, And two who stood by the City of God ; But up through the golden-shining street One passed alone, and all the sweet Mysterious joys laid up for those Whom God has loved, infolded one Of those two who went up by the setting sun. NUMBERED WITH THE TRANSGRESSORS. 157 The Other stood, in the deepening night, Far, far beneath the starry Height Where the golden ramparts gleam ; And in the night, the dreary night, — " My God, Thy will is My delight ; — My People, ye shall win the Height ;* I heard Him say in my dream. THROUGH THE FLOOD ON FOOT. 'HE sun had sunk in the West For a little while, =pf And the clouds which had gathered to see him die Had caught his dying smile. We sat in the door of our Tent, In the cool of the day, Towards the quiet meadow Where misty shadows lay, And over the mountains of Moab Afar, We saw the first, sweet gleam Of the first star. The great and terrible Land Of Wilderness and drought THROUGH THE FLOOD ON FOOT. 159 Lay in the shadows behind us, For the Lord had brought us out The great and terrible River, Though shrouded still from view, Lay in the shadows before us, But the Lord would bear us through. In the stillness and the star-light, In sight of the Blessed Land, We thought of the bygone Desert-life, And the burning, blinding sand. Many a dreary sunset, Many a dreary dawn, We had watched upon those desert hills As we pressed slowly on. Yet sweet had been the silent dews Which from God's Presence fell, And the still hours of resting By Palm-tree and by Well, Till we pitched our Tent at last, The Desert done. 160 THROUGH THE FLOOD ON FOOT, Where we saw the hills of the Holy Land Gleam in our sinking sun : And we sat in the door of our Tent, In the cool of the day, Towards the quiet meadow Where misty shadows lay : We were talking about the King, And our elder Brother, As we were used often to speak One to another, — The Lord standing quietly by. In the shadows dim, Smiling perhaps, in the dark, to hear Our sweet, sweet talk of Him. " I think in a little while," I said at length, " We shall see His Face in the City Of everlasting strength, " And sit down under the shadow Of His smile, THROUGH THE FLOOD ON FOOT. l6l With great delight and thanksgiving, To rest a while." — " But the River — the awful River, In the dying light," — And, even as he spoke, the murmur Of a River rose on the night ! And One came up through the meadow, Where the mists lay dim, Till He stood by my friend in the star-light, And spake to him : — " I have come to call thee Home," Said our veiled Guest \ "The terrible journey of life is done, — I will take thee into Rest. " Arise ! thou shalt come to the Palace, To rest thee for ever ;" -—And He pointed across the dark meadow, And down to the River. And my friend rose up in the shadows. And turned to me, — 11 l62 THROUGH THE FLOOD ON FOOT. " Be of good cheer," I said faintly, " For He calleth thee/' For I knew, by His loving Voice, His kingly word, The veiled Guest in the star-light dim Was Christ, the Lord. So we three went slowly down To the River-side, Till we stood in the heavy shadows By the black, wild tide. I could hear that the Lord was speaking Deep words of grace, I could see their blessed reflection On my friend's pale face. The strong and desolate tide Was hurrying wildly past, As he turned to take my hand once more, And say Farewell, at last. " Farewell — I cannot fear; Oh, seest thou His grace ? " THROUGH THE FLOOD ON FOOT. 163 And even as he spoke, he turned Again to the Master's Face, So they two went closer down To the River-side, And stood in the heavy shadows By the black, wild tide. But when the feet of the Lord Were come to the waters dim, They rose to stand, on either hand, And left a path for Him ; So they two passed over swiftly Towards the Goal, But the wistful, longing gaze Of the passing soul Grew only more rapt and joyful As he clasped the Master's hand — I think, or ever he was aware They were come to the Holy Land. Now I sit alone in the door of my Tent In the cool of the day, t64 THROUGH THE FLOOD ON FOOT. Towards the quiet meadow Where misty shadows play. The great and terrible Land Of Wilderness and drought Lies in the shadows behind me, For the Lord hath brought me out ; The great and terrible River I stood that night to view, Lies in the shadows before me — But the Lord will bear me through THE DYING THIEF. JS*. PRISON, and the face of one who stands To watch the dawning day. The stars grow dim In those pale skies above, and with a chill And trembling sigh, the feeble morning wakes. He stands to watch the dawning of the day — His own last day. Fair on that sin-worn face All night the moon hath shone, the paschal moon Which walketh brightly. And he could not sleep, But paced the floor with restless, weary feet ; And now and then the bitter words would break Upon the tranquil moonlight : " It is come To this at last ! All things are lost to me ! And now they take my life. O God ! to think That I must die ! — must die in my full strength, With all this wealth of life, which beats and burns Through every vein ! Oh, it is well for old 1 66 THE DYING THIEF. And worn-out men to die ! They sink and fail By slow degrees, and lie at last so pale Within the Shadow, none who watch them know Whether they sleep or wake. But for a man To die in his full strength — so to be cast Alive into the cruel arms of Death — This is a bitter thing I How dare they take The precious years I might have lived from me, And hurry me into a dreary grave, And hide me from the light 1 " But still the moon Shone smiling in his face, and there was none To pity him ; until in thought he passed Forth of his prison-gates. He trod once more A well-known path, across the desert-hills Of wild Judaea, and by moonlight saw A far-off city, where the sad, sweet sound Of Jordan's waves is heard. The palm-trees there Are waving in the night wind, and the moon Kisses a quiet grave. " Oh, well for him Who sleeps this night so calm ! O father's face Sealed to an endless peace ! no sin of mine, No doom of mine, can trouble thee, to mar The long night's rest ! " But as he pauses there In thought beside the grave, he seems to hear THE DYING THIEF. 167 A far-off weeping, as it were the voice Of one who prays in agony. " Alas ! Alas ! for her who weeps this night beside The Jordan's lonely wave ! No peaceful tomb Has welcomed her to rest \ her very love Has held her still awake from that last sleep, To watch and pray for me ; as through the night It held her eyes awake in bygone years Whilst I was wandering far. O mother's heart, That will not rest ! All vainly dost thou wake And weep for me. I hasten to my doom, Cast off by God and man." The far-off grave Has faded from his sight ; the far-off sound Of weeping dies away. Xo palm-tree shade Is o'er him now \ he hears no more sweet tread Of moon-lit waters. Dreary prison-walls Are round him once again, and death is near. Waiting in silence. And, behold, the dawn ! The morning lieth faint and pale, outspread Upon the mountains gray. He speaks once more : " Life has been cruel to me ; Death is kind, And Death shall comfort me ! I long to lie In some dim place, and rest ; ere night shall fall Like dew upon the hills which compass round r68 THE DYING THIEF. The Holy City, I shall lie and sleep A dreamless sleep. None shall have care of me But only Death himself, and he will seal The stone above me, hiding me from scorn, And cruelty, and shame ; and I shall be As precious in his sight as other men, And I shall sleep as sweetly as the priests From God's own Temple sleep around the hill Where they have served Him. Death receives us all With equal love \ and, lo ! the iron gates Stand open day and night ; the poor and sad, Whom no man seeketh after, all are free To enter there and sleep. I go to Death, And Death shall give me rest." " Come unto Me, And I will give you rest ! " " Once more the voice Is in mine ear. It seems to echo now The mournful hope that Death should give me rest ,* And yet I know this is no dream-like sound Of sad Death making answer. This the voice Of Life, and not of Death ; it steals to me With that faint sighing from the crystal east, That sweet breath of the day. I know not how The words have power to haunt me. Long ago I heard them from a Stranger, — one who turned THE DYING THIEF. 1 69 And looked upon me as I passed, and seemed To know my face, although I knew Him not. Upon a green hill-side He stood ; the wind Was rough that day, and pushed His hair aside ; And, lo ! the face was weary. Yet He spake Of giving rest ! He needed rest, I think. But patiently He stood, and spoke to those Who gathered round Him \ and He turned His face And looked upon me, as I passed them by With careless haste. He could not know how wild And sinful was my life — a robber's life Among the rocks and caves ; and yet He looked As though He knew it all, and, knowing, longed To save me from it. No such yearning look Had ever followed me, save from those eyes Which are grown dim with weeping, far away, Before the Lord for me, — my mother's look Of love, which many waters cannot drown, Nor floods of tears, which I have made hei weep, Can ever wash away. The Stranger's look Did mind me of her ; and He stretched His hands ' Come unto Me, to Me,' He said, ' and I Will give you rest ! ' I had no time to wait, And went my way in haste, not turning back To see His face again. And yet I know T70 THE DYING THIEF. That sad look followed me. It almost seemed As if He thought that we should meet again In some strange scene ; for many things had place In that deep look of His. It could not be The past that moved Him ; I had never seen His face before. Was it some future day, When He and I should meet ? I went again To my rough dwelling in the robbers' cave, And lived my reckless life. Yet for awhile My soul was haunted ; morn and eve the look Returned on me. What had the Man to do With silences of everlasting hills In noonday heat, or stately march of stars Across the midnight skies % Yet all things seemed To testify of Him. On rushing winds Which swept the wilderness, He seemed to ride And meet my soul. And many times at night, And in the golden dawn, He seemed to pass Before the cave, and summon me once more To follow Him. I knew that this was all A strange wild fancy: in a little while I heard the voice no more ; it died away Upon the moaning wind, it sank to sleep Upon the desert-hill ; and I was left THE D YING THIEF. 1 7 1 Alone once more, alone with men as wild And lost as I. But still at times I thought That surely I should meet the Stranger yet : He had a kingly face, and looked as none Whom He should summon to His side could choose But do His bidding some day. Thus I thought When I was worn with sin, and then I hoped That in the future I should meet with Him And see His face again. But all my thoughts Were vain and idle, never more the voice Entreated me, I never saw again That look which followed me ; and now at length The end is come; there is no future now; And though on this last night the well-known voice Has sweetly wakened once again, and called, 1 Come unto Me, and I will give you rest,' Oh, what is that to an imprisoned man Who cannot go, by this pale dawn, to seek For Him who calleth me ? My soul grows faint ; Oh, were there but a man to plead for me Before my Judge, or tell me how my sin Might yet be pardoned ! Lo ! the Passover Was slain last night in Israel, but I — A man cast out — have had no part nor lot 172 THE DYING THIEF. In holy things, no priest to plead for me, No sacrifice for sin." " Come unto Me, To Me, this day, and I will give you rest ! A cross, — and one who hangs thereon, in sight Of heaven and earth. The cruel nails are fast In trembling hands and feet, the face is white And changed with agony, the failing head Is drooping heavily • but still again, And yet again, the weary eyes are raised To seek the face of One who hangeth pale Upon another cross : he hears no shrill And taunting voices of the crowd beneath, He marks no cruel looks of all that gaze Upon the woful sight. He sees alone That Face upon the cross. Oh, long, long look, That searcheth there the deep and awful things Which are of God. In his first agony And horror he had joined with them that spake Against the Lord, the Lamb, who gave Himself That day for us. But when he met the look Of those calm eyes, — he paused that instant ; pale THE DYING THIEF. 173 And trembling, stricken to the heart, and faint At sight of Him. Again, and yet again, The long, long look is fixed upon that Face With deepening awe. Here, in the valley dim Of death and sighing, he has come to Him Who called him long ago. That windy day Upon the free hill-side he knew Him not, But now he searcheth in that dying Face The precious things of God. For this is Christ, The long Desired of Israel. At length The pale, glad lips have breathed the trembling prayer, " O Lord, remember me I" The hosts of God, With wistful angel-faces, bending low Above their dying King, were surely stirred To wonder at the cry. Not one of all The shining host had dared to speak to Him In that dread hour of woe, when Heaven and Earth Stood trembling and amazed ; yet, lo ! the voice Of one who speaks to Him, who dares to pray, " O Lord, remember me !" A sinful man May make his pitiful appeal to Christ, The sinner's Friend, where angels dare not speak :— And sweetly from the dying lips that day The answer came. 174 THE DYING THIEF. Oh, strange and solemn joy Which broke upon the fading face of him Who there received the promise : " Thou shalt be In Paradise this night, this night, with Me." And thus the Lord fulfilled His word. He spake Of giving rest, and on the bitter Cross He gave the promised rest. O Christ, the King ! We also wander on the desert-hills, Though haunted by Thy call, returning sweet At morn and eve : we will not come to Thee Till Thou hast nailed us to some bitter cross, And made us look on Thine : and driven at last To call on Thee with trembling and with tears, — Thou lookest down in love, upbraiding not, And promising the kingdom ! Thus it was That day on Calvary. Oh, solemn joy Upon the faint and fading face of Him Who died a Victor there, so strong to save ; — And on the pardoned face, what mourning love, What awe and thankfulness ! " Thus am I come To Him at last. The call is answered now Which followed me so long. I look this day On Him whom I have pierced, and mourn for Him With bitter mourning. Christ, my Passover, THE DYING THIEF. 175 Is sacrificed for me, my countless sins Are heavy on His head; I mourn for Him Whom I have pierced. Behold, He loveth me, And gives Himself for me ! In days to come His name shall be above all names on Earth Or names in Heaven. And He shall stand at last Upon Mount Zion, with the shining host For whom He dies to-day. Thus must I look Upon the joy before Him, — else His woe Would slay my soul this day. The peace of God Which passeth understanding stealeth o'er My failing heart. For I am come to Him, To Him at last, and He has given me rest, According to His word. Yea, hanging here In sight of Heaven and Earth, a man cast out And dying this slow death of pain and shame, I rest, I rest in Him." # * * # * A Throne, — and one Who kneels before it, bending low in new And speechless joy. It is the night on Earth, The shadows fall like dew upon the hills Around the Holy City. But above, 176 THE DYING THIEF. Beyond the dark vale of the sky, beyond The smiling of the stars, they meet once more In peace and glory. Heaven is comforted, — For that strange warfare is accomplished now, Her King returned with joy : and one who watched The far-off morning in a prison dim, And hung at noonday on the bitter cross, Is kneeling at His feet, and tasteth now The sweet, sweet opening of an endless joy. THE SONG OF THE SEA. HAVE heard the awful song Which the Sea is ever singing ; The tender, merciless song, Which to all the lands is ringing : " Come unto me/' Saith the awful Sea, " And I will give you rest. It is better to die than to live, It is sweeter to sleep than to grieve ; So come and sleep on my breast." The faces under the Earth and Sea Seem more patient, and joyful too, to me, Than those that dwell on the smiling Earth And sail on the smiling Sea. " Come unto me," Saith the awful Sea, " And I will give you rest. 12 [78 THE SOXG OF THE SEA. A little struggle at first, of course, A little gasping for one more breath, A little agony, — nothing worse, — And then the long sweet sleep of Death !" This is the awful song Which the Sea is ever singing ; The tender, merciless song, Which to all the lands is ringing. Oh ! the Ocean murdereth tenderly, With soft blue waves which a child might love : — Only they creep so very near, And close so strong above ; — Gently forcing the struggles by, Gently stealing away the breath, Gently closing the mouth and eye, Till the struggling face grows white in death. And then when the strong and terrible Sea Hath wrought its awful will, It catcheth the poor form to its breast And husheth it very still ; In the winding waters' waving flow, Swaying it softly to and fro As the smiles of the great Sea come and go, THE SOXG OF THE SEA. 179 With a hushing, tender, motherly motion, The awful, tender, merciless Ocean, And singing the old, old song, Which the Sea hath chanted long : M It is better to die than to live, It is sweeter to sleep than to grieve, — So Death is the kiss I give." in. And thus when we sail on the sounding Sea Far out of sight of land, And on the gray watch-towers in the sky The stars come out to stand, In the quiet, waving motion we feel That the dead people lying far under the keel Are swaying softly to and fro As the smiles of the great Sea come and go Very quiet and glad they must be, Cradled so deep in the gentle Sea ; For no man ever goes down in wrath, By the wandering, waving, shifting path, To trouble them in their home ; Only sometimes a quiet drowned guest Comes slowly down to share their rest : For in answer to the song Which the Sea has chanted long, [8o THE SONG OF THE SEA. Sailors and women silently come Through the winding waters now and then, And the great Sea murmurs — " Amen ! Amen V In the pauses of its song. IV. The faces under the Earth and Sea Are more patient and joyful too than we, For the grace of Christ on many a face Maketh a light in the dim death-place ; And swaying softly to and fro As the smiles of the great Sea come and go, Lies a fairer smile on the white, locked face As if it, in some matchless mystery, Were 'ware of the spirit standing high Above all waves, in the starry sky, On the silent crystal Sea, PARTINGS. fOWN in the Valley of Death, Where the shadows are strange and drear, =f=|=^ The midnight air is heavy with sighs, As of those that part in fear. And terrible visions pass, Like winds across the night, Of severed hearts, and hands unclasped That had been clasped so tight One goeth forth alone, An unknown Fate to face ; And one, his friend and treasure lost, Goes back to his desolate place. ii. Yet down in the Valley of Death A Cross is standing plain, l»2 PARTINGS. Where strange and awful the shadows sleep, And the ground has a deep red stain. This Cross, uplifted here, Forbids, with voice Divine, Our anguished hearts to break for the Dead Who have died and made no sign : As they turned at length from us, Dear eyes that were heavy and dim May have met His look who was lifted there — May be sleeping safe in Him. in. But down in the Valley of Death Are whispers low and sweet, As the Pilgrim of Christ is marching through, And the Night and Morning meet ; Whispers of faith and hope, Of a love that will not die, And the dawning upon a weary heart Of the Dayspring from on high. And one goes forth with joy To meet the Bridegroom's Face ; And one gives thanks, and turns again To his work for a little space. PARTINGS. 183 IV. Down in the Valley of Death Lies the Home of parting pain : Yet not alone in its solemn shade Are claspings wild and vain ; On the broad rich plains of Life, Where the bright winds come and go, Sweeping the golden fields of corn With a murmur soft and low, A voice of parting tears May break on the morning's breath 5 — Is it harder to part in the glowing sun, Or down in the Valley of Death \ Our blessed Dead are wrapt And hidden from us by Love, Till soul be knit to soul once moie In the shining courts above. Their burning hearts might shrink From hearts so cold as ours ; Beneath their eyes, which cannot weep. Our tears might fall in showers ; Their radiant brows would shame These care-worn brows of clav : 184 PARTINGS, Ah ! it is well that we meet no more Till we are even as they ! VI. But the living and the lost — For them our souls must weep ; For them we suffer a yearning pain That will not let us sleep : And ever we moan and say, Whilst the stars are calm and clear — Oh, for one look, one clasp of the hand, One tone of the voice so dear ! Oh, brilliant seas of Earth, That roll so bright between Long-severed friends, ye show more dark Than Rivers of Death had been ! VTT. God takes them from our hands (That seemed but made to cling) ; He sets them far away, in the shades Of His far-stretching wing, And bids us pray for them With a deep and yearning thrill — With a passionate power we had not known When they were with us still. PARTINGS. 185 " He doeth all things well ! " We say it now with tears ; But we shall sing it with those we love Through bright eternal years. THE KING ETERNAL. " A thousand years as one day.' " Not yet fifty years old." LORY on glory compassed Him around From everlasting on to everlasting years ; |P And through the depths of glory rang the sound, The voices of the seraphs standing crowned, And glorifying God through all the years : A thousand years of glory swept along Year after year ; But on His face who sitteth on the throne No hope or fear In all these wide long years had marked a change, And unto Him came nothing sad or strange. The years told on Him heavily, And He was grown old before His time ; THE KING ETERNAL. 187 And it seemed so long since the sweet low chime Of the angel-voices had died away As He passed out from the Golden City, Through the starry spaces that round it lay, And down, in the strength of His own strong pity, To our dark Earth rolling drearily \ And the years told on Him wearily. in. Glory on glory compasseth Him round, From henceforth unto all the deathless years ; The smile of God, wherewith He sitteth crowned, More sweet, because the memory of tears Is in His heart, and dieth not away : And in exchange for every weary day He spent on Earth, some blessed soul forgiven— Some face once darkened with our sin and night Is lifted up to Him in cloudless light, And addeth glory to these days of Heaven. OUR SAILOR LAD. PART I. N the golden sands by the sea, As the sun drew near his rest, P 1 We stood to watch the stately ship Ride slowly down to the West : There sailed our gentle lad, With his face to the sunset lands ; And our prayers went solemnly up to God As we stood with tears on the sands. For the words which the lad had said At the farewell-hour that day, Stole back on the golden air to us : " You must watch with me and pray ; And I shall be safe on the sea When the waves and thunders roar, For Chri st is to sail in the ship with me, And bear me safe to shore." OUR SAILOR LAD. 189 We watched : and the ship passed on, Like a spirit walking in white, Along the shining path which the sun Had traced on the waters bright ; And we saw till she seemed to sail Right into the glorious West, As when a conqueror calmly rides At evening-time to his rest. It seemed that the gates of God Were standing open wide ; And the ship passed in on the floods of light, As upon a heavenly tide. Had she swept through the Mystic Gates, And out on the Crystal Sea 1 Were the mariners gone through the shining West To the Haven where we would be % Ah ! many of us would launch With songs on the sunset tide ! But we but sail out on that quiet Sea, To land on the Heavenly side. To be sailing away from sorrow, Sailing away from sin — How sweet would be the voyage forth ! How sweet the entering in ! 190 OUR SAILOR LAD. There be many look forth at sunset From those golden gates of the West ; We may sometimes catch their smile on the sea, And we fain would share tneir rest : But not on a shining pathway Which the sun has traced on the sea, And not in an earth-built ship we sail To the Land where we would be. The vessel was wrapt away In the glorious folds of the West ; Our sailor lad was in His care Who gives His loved ones rest. The light of that vanished smile Ne'er shone so sweet before, As it shone that night in our darkened home A memory — nothing more. PART II. By the moaning midnight sea, Whereon no pale star smiled — By the black and storm-rent sea, When the winds were hoarse and wild — We stood and cried to God For the ship that was nearing fast ; OUR SAILOR LAD. 191 For we knew she was hurrying on to Death, On that rough, resistless blast. On the terrible water-floods He sitteth King and God \ And upon the wings of angry winds His angels walk abroad. The winds and thunders meet — The sea is rent beneath ; We tremble lest their voices wild But cover the cry of Death ! " Once more to his father's house, To the land where he would be, Lord, bring our gentle lad to-night Across the raging sea ! " The winds were hurrying past, And caught the prayers away From the trembling lips that uttered them, As from the waves the spray. Yet we called on the mighty Name That never is named in vain : The prayers were not lost, though swept away By the night-wind and the rain. T9 2 OUR SAILOR LAD. And the Lord God answered us Away on the stormy sea ; For in that same hour the lad was gone To the Land where he would be. We had seen no opened Gate In the clouded Heavens that night — Across the raging waves had shone No path to the Land of Light : Yet our sailor lad had found A way to the Throne of God ; He was gone by the path which the thunder knows — The path which the tempests trod. Not sailing softly forth On a golden sea to the West, Where the way seems clear to the Heavenly side And the waves are hushed to rest \ But forth, when the storms were out On a wild and dreary sea, All through the starless dark he rode To the Land where he would be. We had asked for an earthly thing That night, in the hour of dread ; OUR SAILOR LAD. 193 But the Lord had answered all our prayers With a heavenly thing instead — Receiving our sailor lad To the Haven calm and blest, To a sunnier Home than we could give, And a more enduring Rest. A heavenly thing for us, As well as for him we love, To have one so dear in glory set At the King's right hand above. Yet our hearts had wearied sore To see him face to face : It is sometimes hard to rejoice that he Attained to the holier Place. Yet still we bless the Lord, And still we wait to see Our sailor lad in a little while In the Land where we would be ; For on calm and golden seas, Or tossed by wave and blast, Each soul which Christ hath bought must come To the Heavenly Shore at last. 13 TROUBLE NOT THE MASTER. L B ROUBLE Him not in the dawning Of His brief and bitter day, §P Dreamlike spreadeth the morning On the mountains chill and gray ; Let Him rest for a little while, Let the stars of the morning smile On the head so soon to bear The noonday's burning glare. " The dews of the Dawn are falling, And the Earth her moaning stills ; She has heard the Angels calling Once more on her starlit hills : And more than the Eden-sweetness Comes over her heart to-night, At the tread of the Angel- Watchmen, And the touch of the raiment white TROUBLE NOT THE MASTER. 195 For she knows that once more they hold her dear, And from this night forth, with joy and fear, Will often come down from the golden Gate Of the Glory undented, And be glad in the dark of the Earth to wait And watch by a little Child. " At midnight her mountains trembled As with the tread of God, And all the Heavens were shaken By winds from cloud to cloud ; — But hushed was stormy sighing Of winds and clouds to rest, As God stooped low from His holy Hill And laid the Child on her breast ; Let Him rest for a little while, Let the stars of the morning smile Over His head, with tremblings sweet — They used to tremble beneath His feet ! " Trouble Him not in the dawning Of His brief and bitter day : He is not used to mourning, Nor to weary faces of clay ; And ye have no voices of angels Wherewith to sing to Him ; 196 TROUBLE NOT THE MASTER. No crowns to cast before His feet, No smiles, with glory dim and sweet, Like His crowned Seraphim : In the dimness and gray of the dawning They are standing with wings outspread. With lightning wings, that used to glow In the smile of Him who lieth low This night on His earthly bed : Let Him rest for a little while, Let the Morning-Angels smile, And sing in the twilight dim Some heavenly song to Him. " Yet, — come to Him in the dawning Of His brief and bitter day : For unto you the Child is born, And for you He lies forlorn In the shadows chill and gray ; And to you are His angels calling Among the star-lit hills, Where the dews of the dawn are falling On the flowers by the misty rills, — Holding on high the Eastern Star To guide you from the plains afar : For, not unto them, but to us is given This night the Holy Child ; TROUBLE NOT THE MASTER. 1 97 And ye must go and kneel to Him, Though your hearts with sin be changed and dim, And though He is undefiled ; — ki Though your faces sad and weary, And your eyes so worn with tears, Must foreshadow to Him the human woes He shall bear through the dark'ning years — Must remind Him of the awful price To be paid for such as we, In the hour when His sun goes down at noon, And God shall send nor star nor moon To shine upon Calvary." So the shepherds have left their watching, And risen to meet the King, Who is come from the Throne of God on high The tidings of Peace to bring : In the dimness and gray of the dawning, Behold, they are bending low \ And the sages are hast'ning from eastern hills Where the mystic Star doth glow : And we count them blessed servants Whom their Lord, when He came to-night, 198 TROUBLE NOT THE MASTER. Found ready to trust the joyful news, And to hail Him Life and Light ; Let them kneel for a little while, Let the stars of the morning smile On the faces of those for whom the King Shall make of His soul an offering; 11. Trouble Him not in the dawning Of His bright eternal Day ; Glorious riseth the morning On the Face where the shadows lay. He standeth afar on the mountains Of frankincense and myrrh, Where the winds of Heaven sweetly blow And the golden rivers stir. Let Him stand on His holy Hill, And let Heaven and Earth be still Before the face of the Conqueror, Whose arm was glorious in the w r ar. Trouble Him not in the dawning Of His fair and endless Day \ Let no hoarse voice of mourning Go up from the shadows gray : TROUBLE NOT THE MASTER. 199 Let Him stand on the Heavens, uplifted Beyond the sound of woe, And only the angels speak to Him With wondering faces, waxing dim And bending ever low — As the glory of His lifted face Shines brighter through the heavenly place. They are praising Him in the dawning Of the endless, cloudless Day ; But the songs of praise they used to sing Have died on the hills away ; — Not half of all His beauty Was known to their hearts till now, And new songs rise to the angel-lips For the new crowns on His brow. But let all the earth keep silence Before the Lord to-day ; — How would it be were sounds of woe To go up to His heart, through all the glow, From the shadows chill and gray ? Trouble Him not in the dawning Of His bright, eternal Day ; The days of His mourning are ended, And the last cloud passed away. 200 TROUBLE NOT THE MASTER. The morning shadows were sad and sweet On the face of the little Child ; The evening shadows were black with wrath On the worn Man undefiled, And the clouds of Death have crossed the face Uplifted now in the heavenly place, — But here in the golden Dawning, When the smiles of God appear. Let no man trouble the Master With mournful prayer or tear. Yet, — come to Him in the dawning Of His bright, eternal Day : He bendeth low from His holy Hill — Searching the shadows gray and chill — And calling to us alway ; And clear, through the angel-singing, — What time the Sons of God Shout loud, for joy upspringing, Till all the heavens are bowed, — He hears the faintest sighing Of some poor, far-off soul, Who turns to look to the holy place While the billows round him rolL TROUBLE NOT THE MASTER. 20) And whenever, across the mountains That compass the City of God, Some ransomed soul from earth set free Draws near in robes of victory Unto the King's abode, He hears the far-off footstep Upon the hills of myrrh, Through the sound of the living fountains And the sweet wind's wandering stir ; And He riseth up to greet The trembling, joyful feet. O glorious, tender Shepherd ! On the far-off hills of God, We will not fear to call to Thee, Though hoarse and faint our voices be As they pass from cloud to cloud. Let all men seek the Master ; For, though the tempests roll, Each tearful, upward gaze must meet The Shepherd's look, which bendeth sweet On every seeking soul. THE DESIRE TO DEPART. f Hadad said unto Pharaoh, Let me depart, that I may go to mine own country. Then Pharaoh said unto him, But what hast thou lacked with me, that, behold, thou seekest to go to thine own country? And he an swered, Nothing : howbeit let me go in any wise." — i Kings xi. 21, 22. ND thus our hearts appeal to them, When we behold our dearest rise. |8 And look towards Jerusalem With strangely kindling eyes. And thus we vainly seek to hide With the poor curtain of our love The shining Gates that open wide, To welcome our sweet saints above. Yet still to them, from that bright Land, Through our thin tent the Glory gleams; Already lost to us they stand Wrapped in a mist of golden dreams : THE DESIRE TO DEPART 203 P'or ah ! the Master is so fair, His smile so sweet to banished men, That they who meet it unaware Can never rest on Earth again. And they who see Him risen afar At God's right hand to welcome them. Forgetful stand of home and land, Desiring fair Jerusalem. Yet had we lavished at their feet The precious ointment of hearts that break For love; we counted sorrow sweet, And pain a crown for their dear sake : " What have ye lacked, beloved, with us," We murmur heavily and low, " That ye should rise with kindling eyes, And be so fain to go?" And tenderly the answer falls From lips that wear the smile of Heaven : " Dear ones," they say, " we pass this day To Him by whom your love was given; 204 THE DESIRE TO DEPART. And in His Presence clear and true, We answer you with hearts that glow, — No good thing have we lacked with you — Howbeit, let us go ! " And even as they speak, their thoughts Are wandering upward to the Throne. Ah! God, we see, at length, how free All earthly ties must leave Thine own. Yet, kneeling low in darkened homes, And weeping for the treasure spent, We bless Thee, Lord, for that sweet word Our dear ones murmured as they went,— It was not that our love was cold, That earthly lights were burning dim, But that the Shepherd from His Fold Had smiled, and drawn them unto Him : Praise God the Shepherd is so sweet ! Praise God the Country is so fair ! — We could not hold them from His feet, — We can but haste to meet them There. A PARABLE OF HOPE. ' And, lo, God hath given thee all them that sail with thee." — Acts xxvii. 24 83.UT on a radiant sunlit Sea, Where the waves are leaping joyfully, |i iVnd the breeze is blowing glad and free, We sail to the Land where we would be ; We sail, and sing To the Unseen King, Whose smile on the Sea falls glittering. And sailing, singing, over the Sea, We dream of the Land where we would be; And picture the Haven, fair and wide, Where the longing heart shall be satisfied— And the face of One Who shines as the sun In the kingdom which His sorrows won. 206 A PARABLE OF HOPE. And fondly we pray that, tenderly thus, God may guide the souls that sail with us — That our Beloved may also come To the golden shore of the far-off Home: For Love will pray, Through her own bright day, With a restless yearning that none can stay: — " He leadeth me over the sleeping Sea, To the Home of the heart, where I would be ; But dearer souls than my own to me Pass hither and thither carelessly : To and fro The bright sails go, To the sounds of music tender and low. " No thought of the Haven calm and fair, No dream of the Master waiting there ; But a common sunshine upon the Sea, And a breeze from the Land that bloweth free, Call forth the song, As they sail along, From hearts so careless, and glad, and strong. " So bright when the sun is shining sweet, So brave when the waves and thunders meet, A PARABLE OF HOPE. 207 Shall they miss the Haven fair and wide 1 And shall I be there, well satisfied 1 Sweet Master, lean From Thy throne serene, And call them to seek the Land Unseen." Over a radiant sunlit Sea, Where the waves are leaping joyfully, And the breeze is blowing glad and free, We sail to the Land where we would be; But Love must pray ; Through her own bright day, With a restless longing that none may stay, For the names that dwell in her heart alway. Out on a wild and mournful Sea, Where the waters are struggling heavily — Where the sorrows of death are pressing nigh. As the lights go out in the awful sky — We wrestle against the wind and tide, We wrestle in anguish, storm-defied. For the sake of a Land Whose shining sand No eye hath seen — for the fame of a Sun That never hath lightened earth or sea — 208 A PARABLE OF HOPE. We wrestle and toil in agony : No rest on the bitter driving Sea — No gleam in the closed and darkened Heaven ; And days and nights that heavily Pass over the spirits tempest-driven. Ah, who shall struggle and hope to the last 1 And who shall live when the storm is past ! Yet out on the bitter driving Sea In the hour of our own extremity, Hear us, sweet Master, cry to Thee For other souls which might sink or flee ; For Love must pray Through her own dark day That light may shine on her loved alway. " I struggle across the angry Sea To the Home of the heart where I would be ; Let me enter the Haven calm and fair, But let my Beloved be also there ! One by one Let them greet the Sun In the far-off Land which Thy sorrows won."' Ah, Lord, dear Master, who lovest well, Thou knowest that angry storms may swell ; A PARABLE OF HOPE. 209 That the great sea-billows may rise and roll, But cannot drown Love : for still the soul From the wildest sea Will call to Thee, u Save, Master, the souls that sail with me." in. Out on a changed and shadowy Sea, Where the waters are heaving fitfully, As we near the Haven where we w r ould be, When a new strange Light is dawning pale On the moaning Sea, and the riven sail — A Light that is neither of moon nor sun, That ariseth cold, and fair, and sweet On the shadowy Sea, when Night is done, And the golden Land So close at hand Sends forth its fragrance our hearts to greet — At that dim mysterious Hour of Peace, That Dawn of death in which tears must cease, Ere we pass from the faintly moaning Sea To the Haven that shineth glad and free, Still Love will pray from the shadowy Sea, " Save, Master, the souls that sail with me 1" 14 2lO A PARABLE OF HOPE. And the Lord will hear In His kingdom near, And send her a word of hope and cheer. He giveth us peace at the last, they say, And more than all for which Love can pray; Will He send a sweet Angel to say to me, — "Go in peace, to the Land of the joyful and free For God hath given this day to thee The souls thou hast prayed for steadfastly % " Go in peace, this day, to the Haven wide; Thou shalt see His Face, and be satisfied; Thou shalt know His heart, and rest in Him With a peace which passeth thy knowledge dim Not for thyself alone, but for all Thy heart hath yearned for, great and small. " And some shall enter the Haven wide, Full-sail, on the breast of a glorious tide ; And some shall come To our golden Home Sore battered and spent from an angry sea; But thine heart shall count them, one by one, And leap for joy as they greet the Sun, Till God has gathered them all to thee." MY WELL/ '* He that drinketh of this water shall thirst again." I. N the wood, where the dreamy shadows With dreamier sunbeams play, Where the breezes whisper softly Through the long summer day, Secret, and cool, and musical, My sweet Well lay. The Well was deep, and the water From some mysterious spring. Was ever gushing far below With a tender murmuring ; And, deep underground, a tiny rill Stole on in the dark to sing. * By the "Well" is here intended some innocent source of deep joy; sucn as the beauty and mystery of Nature, or the heart-thrilling power of Music, 01 converse with a beloved friend, or the pursuit of some favourite study ; in which our eyes may see depths of wonder, and ever-growing beauty, which we cannot show to another. MY WELL. This was my cherished Fountain, My Well of secret joy ; Its beauty to me was perfect, Its peace had no alloy ; I thought the weariest heart might there Sing like the heart of a boy. When toiling afar in the City, Under a burning sky, The very thought of my Well would come Like a Blessing from on High — Like the voice of flowing waters, In a desert hot and dry. One hour in the fragrant twilight, Of leaning over the Well, While the hush of the forest touched my heart, . To thought too sweet to tell. And the music of the waters Wound me in a tender spell, — One hour — and the heat and burden Of all the weary day Were gone from me like the heavy dreams That flit with the Dawn away, And my heart became like a little child That sings for joy alway. MY WELL. 213 As my spring-time melted sweetly Into the summer days, I would sit by the Well till the evening star Dropped her sweet looks of praise Into the secret waters, That trembled beneath her gaze ; Then sweeter arose the music Of the waters crystal fair, More heavenly for the silver star That had dropped and melted there, And deeper grew the forest-trance As with the hush of prayer : I drew of the silvered waters, I saw them glance and shine ; And when I drank of the sparkling cup, Was it some spell divine, Or something in mine own heart, that changed The water into wine % Then woke new life within me, Bounding as if from sleep ; For my angel's hand had swept the chords, That only he can sweep, Till the thunder rolled along my soul. Deep calling unto deep. 214 MY WELL. II. There was one who passed through the Forest At the close of a sultry day, With a weary face and bleeding feet That had trod a thorny way, — My joy had taught me to pity pain, And I called her where I lay \ Where I lay by the mossy Fountain, And heard in a heavenly dream The low sweet play of the waters, Which to my heart did seem As dear as to God's bright Angels The voice of the Eternal Stream ! u Dear heart, thou hast nothing to draw with," I said, " and the Well is deep ; But thou shalt drink of my cup this day, And thine eyes forget to weep," — And I offered the precious water That should make the sad heart leap. She drank of the crystal goblet, And I watched the weary eyes, MY WELL. 215 But saw no hint of a glorious Dawn In their strange darkness rise, — To her it was common water, Not wine of Paradise ! With sad thanks, dropping slowly From lips uncomforted, She passed from me through the Forest gloom, Weary and hard bestead ; And a low wind rose as she passed away, And sighingly I said : The Well that to me is a Fountain, Mystical and Divine, To other men is a common Well Where earthly waters shine ; Henceforth shall no stranger meddle With the joy that is only mine ! in. As the low wind died in the Forest From my heart the shadow fell ; I kissed the crystal goblet, To seal once more its spell, — When I was aware of a Stranger Who sat beside the Well. 216 MY WELL. The golden arrows of sunset Gleamed on the shadowy grass \ And, bending over the waters, I saw an image pass — A face like the face of an Angel, Darkly as in a glass. My heart stood still, and the twilight Suddenly deepened round ; The low sad wind of the Forest Came back with a sighing sound, And stirred the stately trees, which bent Solemnly toward the ground. And a Voice beside me, falling Softly as summer rain Into my heart, awoke it To a yearning hope and pain, — " He that drinketh of these bright waters Shall thirst again." I turned and met the look Of One most sweet ; — I read the signs of the Master, And fell at His wounded feet \ I poured out my soul in weeping, And Earth and Heaven did meet. MY WELL, 217 " [ have waited for thee," He murmured, " Through weary nights and days, Beside the Well in the twilight, And along thy devious ways — But thou wert content to miss Me ;" And I met His tender gaze, u Content no more, sweet Master, Except Thou be with me, From this time forth, in the City, Where my daily toil must be \ And at evening-time by the Fountain, Where I will sing to Thee !" He raised me up and kissed me, That sweet yet awful Priest, — He gave me the Cup of Blessing From the Eternal Feast, The wine with hues more radiant Than sunrise in the East : That moment, beside my Fountain, I heard, as if in a dream, The low sweet play of the waters, Which to pause and fail did seem 3 And I trembled to hear the falter In the music's silver stream. 2i8 MY WELL. I looked in the Face of the Master, For strength to let it go : — " The Fountain changeth its music," He answered, " and falleth low ; But its voice shall ever be sweet to thee 3 And ever its waters flow." And I knew at length, that, if only We give Him His royal seat, The earthly music will take its place, And tremble around His feet, — Sweeter than ever, because to our heart The Master is still more sweet ! Then glowed in the skies above me Bright stars I had not seen ; They shone on the face of the Master Glorious and serene ; — When I meet Him again, beyond the stars, Will the ecstasy be more keen ? IV. The shadows were black and awful, The midnight wind was high, As I sought through the moaning Forest For one who was ready to die, MY WELL. 219 Till 1 found her, wounded and fainting, And raised her tenderly : " Dear heart, I have found the Master ; He is sweet beyond compare : He will save and comfort thy weary soul, He will make thee white and fair ; Not as I gave thee, will He give, But wine Divine and rare !" She drank of the Cup of Blessing From the Eternal Feast, The Wine whose hues are radiant As sunrise in the East ; Then with a smile she fell asleep, Upon the Master's breast. He is with me in the tumult Of the City harsh and dim, And at evening by the Fountain, Where I sit and sing to Him ;— Now He wears a veil of shadows On the Face Divine and fair, But His Angels whisper to me "There will be no shadows There !" AFTER THE BATTLE. wound is deep, I fain would sleep ; O Lord, I stretch my hands to Thee : Do Thou according to Thy faithful word, And set Thy servant free ! Sore hath the battle been, but Victory Crowned me as evening fell ; Now heart and flesh are failing, let me see The land where I would dwell. The Battle-field is cold and silent now, Its thunders sunk to rest ; And I can feel the touch upon my brow Of low winds from the West : The clouds of sleep, the last and longest sleep, Are heavy on mine eyes ; They cannot watch, dear Lord, they cannot weep Beneath Thy dark'ning skies. AFTER THE BATTLE. 221 What time the Angel, Victory, came down To bid my conflict cease, And crowned my tired soul with the shining crown Of Righteousness and Peace, That instant broke the sound as of a knell On the faint evening's breath ; And on my parched mouth, like the dew, there fell The soft sweet kiss of Death : For Victory and Death walk hand in hand Down all the Battle-field — One ruddy as the Dawn, the other grand, But pale behind his shield ; And whom God loves, to whom is victory On such a field as this, Receive the radiant Angel's crown, and see The pale cold Angel's kiss : That kiss has made my spirit faint and weak ; Lord, take me to thy breast ; Oh, fold me closely, where the weariest seek And find Eternal Rest ! 2 22 AFTER THE BATTLE. Christ, who has been my perfect sun by day. Will be my star by night \ On my deep rest the Lord shall shine alway, An everlasting Light. Dimly I see him, through the clouds that roll Along the darkening West : O Lord, my Star, by Thy sweet light my soul Doth enter into Rest. FROM DEATH TO LIFE. " It grieved Him at His heart." " Then said I, Lo, 1 come." ^|VER against His Dead God sat in silence : for the Earth was dead, ?g|i And dimly lay upon her awful bier, Wrapped round in darkness; yea, her shroud was wrought Of clouds and thunders : for the Earth had died, Not gently and at peace, as tired men die Toward the evening ; but as one who dies Full of great strength, by sudden smiting down. The Earth was dead, and laid upon her bier, And God, Sole Mourner, watched her day and night — The living God a Watcher by the dead, Sole Mourner in the Universe for her Who had been once so fair. The Angels sang As sweetly that sad night when she lay dead, As they had sung the morning of her birth. *2 4 FROM DEATH TO LIFE. They sang aloud for joy, though one lay dead In that low House which stood so far beneath Their golden heights, with clouds and stars between They knew no funeral march, no song of Death ; They sang of Life and Glory, and the Sea Of Glass, with all its bright waves, echoed back Their voices to the starry shores of Heaven. Sole Mourner, for in the dark outer Room The Devils danced and sang for dreary joy, Because God's so beloved Earth was dead, And must be shortly buried out of sight To perish. Still, — over against His Dead God sat in silence. But, behold, there came One, treading softly to the House of Death, Down from among the Angels, through the room. He came, as comes a King, unto the place Where lay the Dead ; and He laid His right hand Of strength on her, and called her tenderly Saying, " Arise, beloved, from thy sleep, For I will ransom thee by Death to Life \ Arise and live." And He did raise her up By His right hand, presenting her to God, All glorious, as one who hath been dead But hath found life and immortality. FROM DEATH TO LIFE. 225 And God, the Mighty God, did there rejoice, And rest in His great love ; for this His Earth, Which had been dead, was living in His sight. Therefore He crowned with many crowns His head Who had prevailed to ransom her from Death; And also, laying joy upon her head For everlasting, He hath made her Bride Of Christ, the King. 15 "BEHOLD THE MAN." I. — " NO BEAUTY IN HIM." *U|E told me I am blind, As well as lame : I think it must be true ; For I have striven in vain to see the Light Which dawns, they say, on Israel's dreary night Sweetly as on Mount Hermon falls the dew. I sit by the way-side, and they pass by Who company with Him. I sometimes try To raise myself a little ; sometimes cry, " Will no man lift me by the hand, and show The Christ to me, who cannot rise and go ?" And once, some one stepped from the busy crowd, Saying, " Arise ' behold, He draweth nigh ! Arise, and look upon the face of God ! The Man that is His image passeth by ! Eehold the Man ! His glory passeth by 1" "BEHOLD THE MAN." 227 He stooped to me, and, holding by the hand This man who loved Him, I could rise and stand. The sun was hot upon the thirsty land ; The very leaves were hot upon the trees, And cast no coolness on the dusty road ; And, lo ! a Man passed by : to whom the crowd Did look with eager eyes, and follow close; And in the burning heat of those noon-rays They seemed to feel no burden, so His face In journeying were lifted up on them. So passed they on, towards Jerusalem. And I was left behind : and unto him Who stood by me with rapt and earnest gaze Which followed after Him, and seemed to trace With loving care the very footprints dim, I said, " Is this the man ? I see no God Shine manifest in Him. As He passed by, The sun was never shadowed on the way, But smote His face as boldly with its ray As yours or mine. He seemed a patient man, And somewhat worn with toil, and one may read. With some sore work before Him, which may lay A heavier weight on that now bended head. I saw no beauty in Him." Thus I said. He never answered me ; he only stood, Still gazing up the hill, by the hot road 228 "BEHOLD THE MAN:" Where they had passed. I think that he heard still The footsteps of the Man he loved so well. And, as he listened, my dim eyes could see That, ever bright'ning, shone the smile of peace More sweetly on his face than falls the smile Of moonlight on the waves of Galilee. Surely the memory will never cease To thrill me ; for I felt that I could see In that sweet joy upon His servant's face, Reflected, the fair light I failed to see Upon the face of Christ, as He passed by. I trembled at that joy and love, for I Had found no share. I gave a bitter cry Of sudden fear — " Was there some glory there 1 Oh ! would to God that I had seen it then !" He turned to me, at that sharp cry of pain — " Some glory ! oh," he said, " this noon-day blaze Is cold and white by reason of His face, Which shineth as the light of seven days ; And all sweet things are bitter to His smile, Which is more sweet than the sweet stars of God Oh, thou art blind," he said, " as I, erewhile ! Arise, and come with me along the road, And let us follow Him. I cannot stay Away from Him : I think He calleth me "BEHOLD THE MAN." 229 Over the mountains. Is not that the sound Of my Beloved's voice 1 I cannot stay ; We will go on. Rise up, and come away !" But I made answer, " Lo, the mid-day sun Is hot upon the hills \ and I am lame, And weakened in the way : I cannot go ; What little strength I had is well-nigh spent : I cannot go." And he rose up and went With eager eyes unto the silent hills. He went to Christ, and I sit here alone — Alone by the road-side. The afternoon Grows cold ; but I've no heart to rise and creep To my poor home across the dark'ning hill ; I rather sit by the road-side and weep. I think there must have been some glory still. Oh, would to God that I had seen it then ! I sit and think of this with bitter pain, In the deep shadows and the falling dew, As the night falls. He told me I am blind, As well as lame : I think it must be true. 11. — "altogether lovely." The hot day dies upon the dreary hill, And the cold winds of night arise, and creep Across the valleys, and I sit and weep Alone by the road-side, and cheerless still. 230 "BEHOLD THE MAN." The winds are rising, and a sudden blast Of bitter rain drives sharply through the air ; And in the angry sky the clouds toss fast, Wild, broken, white with moonlight here and there And in the white light of that stormy moon On the far hill-side I have caught the form Of One who cometh, and will reach me soon. Through the cold moonlight and the windy storm, Over the stony mountain-track He comes With slow and weary steps, until He stands Close at my side, and lifteth up His hands, As if He had been an Anointed Priest, To bless me. And, behold, it was the Man Who passed that way at noon-day in the sun ! I did not say, " No glory" now, although His face was paler, with the busy day Spent since at noon-tide He had passed that way; And with the flitting rays of that white moon (Which was so bright that I could see each stone Upon the mountain-road), on that pale face I saw the cloud of Godhead rest, and knelt. Then He sat down beside me; made me lean My head upon His shoulder, while the keen North wind blew still across the dreary hills, " BEHOLD THE MA N." 23 1 With sudden blasts of bitter rain, and then White moonbeams falling on our heads between. My head upon His shoulder ! Oh, the thrill Of joy and trembling sweeping through my heart, Which no wild winds of earth could check or chilL But with it came the memory of that word Spoken long since in vision, of the Lord, That they should name Him "Wonderful," and on His shoulder should the Government be laid: This shoulder where I laid my weary head ! And then I trembled ; but His strong right hand Upheld me, and His left hand's kind embrace Brought back to me that other sacred word, Foretelling Him as Shepherd, who should stand And feed the flock of God, and often place The lambs upon His shoulder tenderly • Then I rejoiced, and rested on the Lord. And then He turned, and said unto the bright And stormy moonlit night, " Oh, peace, be still," (Not for His own sake, though the drops of night Were heavy in His hair, and from the hill Above us, where the lonely palm-tree stands, The winds blew on His cold pale cheek and hands). And, with the kingly words, the angry, dim, Wild clouds swept back ; the wings of the great winds 232 "BEHOLD THE MAN." Were folded straightway, as they crouched to Him And the soft moon shone cloudlessly and sweet, And weaving fast her silver rays in crowns, Cast them upon the ground before His feet. So, 'mid these silent, moonlit hills alone, The angels saw us through the long still night; We heard afar the Jordan's heavy moan, And on the western hill the road shone white Which leadeth on towards Jerusalem. And in the calm He spake great words to me Regarding God, and sin, and Love Divine, Which should be manifest, and of a Death He must accomplish shortly, for the sin Of many ; — He, Himself, whose living breath Gives life to all the nations \ yea, the Man Who is the Fellow of Almighty God. And often I could see He turned His face Westward unto Jerusalem. The road Over the hills was gleaming in the moon, And sometimes suddenly it seemed there shone A Light that was not moonlight on the road; It might be angels passing, bright, yet dim — I cannot tell, I only thought of Him. So went the night. At length the first cold gleam Of dawn crept silently, like some pale dream, Along the eastern hills ; and the first cold "BEHOLD THE MAN." 233 Faint breath of morning quivered in the trees. Then He who communed with me lifted up His eyes unto the hills, and said, " Behold, The day is breaking." And again He said, — For I was clinging to Him — " Let Me go, For the day breaketh." But I held Him so As when a drowning man holds on for life : "I cannot let Thee go, dear Lord, dear Lord, Except thou bless me : leave me some good word Oh, tarry with me. Leave me not alone And comfortless, lest I should die, undone !" " I will not leave thee comfortless," He said, " For I will come to thee;" and on my head He laid his hands, and blessed me audibly, — With full forgiveness for all my sin, — With victory, which He, not I, should win, And with exceeding great and precious words Of promise. (And, behold, in that same hour I felt a thrill of health, with sudden power, Shoot through my weary, wasted frame, and stood A crippled man in Israel no more.) " And thou shalt see My face, what time thy feet Stand safe within the Holy City gate." So spake He ; but He lifted not his eyes Towards thy gates, mine own Jerusalem ! But as He spoke, He looked to those faint skies 234 "BEHOLD THE MAN." Which swept, so dream-like, over Him and me, Unto some pearly Gates which He could see — Not I — beyond the dawning. I often think of that strange moonlight night On the Judean hills ; and while I work His work who saved me, I lift up mine eyes Unto the higher Hills, where I shall stand What time the years are done, and meet with Plim He hath accomplished now that sacrifice Whereof He spake to me, and in the land Of God He reigneth Conqueror and King. And I shall see His face, what time my feet Stand safe upon the Holy City street. IN MEMORIAM.— PROFESSOR MILLER. DIED JUNE 17, 1864. " He calleth to me out of Seir, Watchman, what of the night ? Watchman, what of the night? The watchman said, The Day cometh, and also the night." " l gWWi HAT of the night 1 r\ Via Great Watchman of the House of Israel, l§yyp Who holdest forth the Light, S^n< And, slumbering not, art watching on the * Hill Through all the ages ; answer from the Height, What of the night ? "What of the night 1 Dear Lord, I seek a double boon from Thee ; — I seek the light Of God's fair Dawn, my soul from shadows free But for my weary hands and failing sight I seek a Night. 236 IN MEMORIAM.— PROFESSOR MILLER. " What of the night ! I would be patient — I will work and wait, Thy stars are bright \ But in the End, when watching hours grow late. I pray not only, Lord, let there be Light, — Let there be Night. " What of the night 1 I stand upon the shore of the great Sea, And my dim light Is flickering in the night-wind ; — answer me, Watchman above me on the distant Height, What of the night?" " This of the night, Tired Pilgrim through the shadows and the mist. There shall be Light ; The fair Dawn cometh shortly up the East : — Also, for toil-worn hands and failing sight, There shall be Night." * * * * * It is the Night : The Pilgrim lays him down at last to rest Among the lilies white ; IN MEM0R1 AM.— PROFESSOR MILLER. 237 Rest for the toil-worn hands and anxious breast, In those dim shadows underneath the Height, In the still Nieht. It is the Night ; He sleepeth well beneath those soft gray skies After the fight : The Night is come upon him, and he lies Wrapped closely from all earthly sound or sight In God's still Night. It is the Night, And God has given His Beloved sleep : The stars are bright, And, as he lieth in those shadows deep, The Watchman bendeth o'er him from the Height. And guards his Night. It is the Day ; The Pilgrim gets him up unto the Height, — All shadows fled away — To the broad sunshine of Eternal Light, Unto the face of God, which shines alway In the glad Day. 23 8 IN MEMORIAM.— PROFESSOR MILLER, It is the Day ; No more sad watchings by the midnight Sea, — No twilight gray, But, crowned with light and immortality, He stands from henceforth, triumphing alway In God's own Day. THE WAKING HEART. M I sleep, but my heart waketh." T is the Night ; the lights are burning low, The house is still, i|l And through the heavy chambers come and go, At their own wayward will, The Dreams that thrill the Night, with murmurings Of voices, mingled with a rush of wings. And going through the house, we are aware Of Dreams upon the wall, Of Visions passing up the shadowy stair, And through the vacant hall ; And every sleeper, in his darkened room, Is busy with his guests, in joy or gloom. Ah ! calm and still may be the sleeping face In the moonlight pale, 24° THE WAKING HEART But the heart waketh in her secret place, Within the veil \ And agonies are suffered in the Night, Or joys embraced, too keen for waking sight. A cold wind blows out of the starry North, — Strange Doors stand wide, — And hidden things, and things long past, come forth And will not be denied, Though some be terrible and sad to face, — And the Heart mourneth, stricken, in her place. But still she wakes ; and, steadfast, will not turn To seek for rest ; — All the long Night her faithful Lamp will burn, In the clear breast, Where Angels come and go, to minister God's consolations, tenderly, to her. The?i come dear living ones across the Sea, From distant lands, — Then come her Holy Dead, in ecstasy, With lilies in their hands, — And looks, more sweet to these poor hearts of ours Than even that fragrance of Eternal flowers ! THE WAKING HEART. 241 And, dearer than the living ones, that dwell Beyond the throbbing Sea, — And, dearer than the Dead, whose voices swell The Heavenly melody, — One visiteth His people in the Night, Who giveth songs, and makes the darkness bright. "I sleep; yet evermore my Heart doth wake, Within the veil ; The voice of my Beloved ! hear it break Across the moonlight pale : He is come down to comfort me awhile, And cheer the sad Night with His tender smile ! " * * * * * And when the days and nights of Earth are flown, And I lie dead, Then come and write, dear friends, upon the stone Above my quiet head, — "I sleep; — yet far, upon the Crystal Sea, My Heart is waking, — waking, Lord, with Thee ! " For I shall sleep beneath the steadfast sky, So free from care, That evermore my hands may folded lie, As if in prayer ; 16 *42 THE WAKING HEART. And evermore the sealed eyelids keep The secret of dim eyes, that, joyful, sleep ; And, whilst I sleep, behold ! my Heart will wake. And sing its perfect song, In thy sweet Presence, Master, for whose sake It watched and waited long ; And evermore Thy deathless Love shall be The treasure of the Heart that loveth Thee ! IN THE MIDST.* HUNDRED lights are gleaming on the throng Of radiant faces passing to and fro ; And on gay robes, and flowers, and sparkling gems; And pictures on the wall, where Southern suns Glow strangely rich and bright — fair suns, which rose And set in glory far beyond the Sea, Here prisoned for our pleasure, that so our night May borrow beauty from their vanished days. And men are here, whose names are written great In the World's Book of Life \ and women, fair As any summer dawn. On every face The light of innocent mirth, in every voice Something of laughter \ for the cares of life Are laid down for an hour, and all can smile. * At a recent gay public Reception, where the pictures gathered were very fine, there was one which must have appealed to many hearts — a picture of the Christ, as a King, " treading the Winepress alone." 244 IN THE MIDST, Now the sweet tide of Music, rising, flows In countless waves upon the radiant air, Fast quick'ning every heart to fuller life : It touches every picture, every face, To a fresh brightness ; by its help I read New meanings in these visions on the wall — More of the heart's light in each changing face— And even a fairer beauty in the flowers, As the soft music breathes and blows on them, Like some rare wandering wind from Paradise ; — And the lights gleam more gaily over all. And suddenly face to face with Him I stood Who is not very far at any time From those who love Him, yet who seemed afar And lonely in the midst of us that night. We had the hundred lights ; but He in the dark, Treading a darker Winepress, stood before My startled sight. A crown was on His brow, And all His air was lofty, like a king's ; But measureless pain and grief had hold on Him— His eyes were sorrowful even unto death. And thus He faced us : He for us alone Treading the Winepress ; whilst we came and went With songs and flowers beneath our hundred lights, As if we knew Him not IN THE MIDST. 245 Had it been He Sitting in cheerful friendliness, as once At the marriage-feast in Cana, giving them, From His own royal bounty, wine and joy And all things, it had seemed less strange to me ; And we, in all our innocent mirth, not far, Not very far, from Him. But here, alone, Treading the mystical Winepress full of woe, In the last Passion of His agony, He stood amongst us on our festal night. Alone, O Christ ! — yea, evermore alone In that strange anguish, even when close to Thee Thy people press with tears : a little light Must still be with us, dear hands clasping ours, When pale we stand before Thy lifted Cross, And see Thee hang, forsaken, in the dark. Then now alone that hour, that glittering hour, When suddenly face to face with Thee I stood, And no man wept for Thee. We came and went As gaily as the music ; and the sound Of soft, low laughter came and went with us. And now, sweet Master, when my heart is gay, And the rich music of my happy life Sounds on and falters not — when dear ones press With loving faces round me, and the light 246 IN THE MIDST. Is almost like the light of seven days — Let something of that pictured vision rise Often before my face. So shall I keep For ever in my heart one silent space ; A little sacred spot of loneliness, Where to set up the memory of Thy Cross- A little quiet garden, where no man May pass or rest for ever, sacred still To visions of Thy Sorrow and Thy Love. HYMN SUNG AT THE OPENING OF ALL SAINTS' CHURCH, CHESTER. " Lift up your heads, O ye gates, and the King of Glory shall come In.' OME, to bless Thy people, Lord, From the hills of peace afar ; Come, and let Thy whispered word Greet the souls that weary are. Lo ! Thy congregation waits One sweet look from Thee to win : Lift your heads on high, ye gates — Christ, our King, will enter in. Come, and let Thy glory dwell In this house for evermore, Great High Priest of Israel, Whom the Saints in light adore. 2 48 HYMN. He has heard our prayer — He waits To absolve us from all sin : Lift your heads on high, ye gates — Christ, our Priest, will enter in. Signs of sorrow never cease In a world so stained with guilt : And where'er a house of peace For the Prince of Peace is built, Lo ! a congregation waits, Sorely pressed by toil and sin : Lift your heads on high, ye gates — Let the mourners enter in. We will bid the poor, to meet In this house our promised Guest \ We will lead them to the Feet Where the weary are at rest ; For them all His mercy waits, Smiles and blessings they shall win : Lift your heads on high, ye gates, That Christ's poor may enter in. Who are we, to entertain, In the house our hands have made, Him, the glory of whose train Makes the stainless Heavens afraid % HYMN. 249 Yet He comes, and sweetly waits Entrance to our hearts to win : Lift your heads on high, ye gates — Let the gentle Master in. And as we receive this day Joyfully our Royal Guest, So at length, when far away, Breaks the dawn of promised rest Where the Lord His Church awaits, Sweetest welcome may we win : " Lift your heads, ye golden gates — Let My ransomed people in ! " Amen. IRambltncj IRematfcs 11 B. M." We are now able to say that we have first-hand information about " B.M." The venerable and gracious lady has preferred withdrawal from the world, and has obtained it. But she lives on in the house where her husband left her many years ago, and no one would wish unwarrantably to intrude on her seclusion. This correspondence is one of the most remarkable we have, ever published. ■ J &e last En 2 France, bVirKr come heme ° ' l3et E "?.'^a r/adre — Kev. J. {Jr. Henderson, ot Lamer, has been elected secretary of the Fund Board and -also to the secretarial, position of Cheshunt College in succession to the lata Rev. Henry Johnson. Mr. Henderson is an alumnus of Cheshunfc College, and re- tired from the active ministry in 1919, when he resigned the pastorate of Pevensey-road Church, Eastbourne. For fifteen years he was the minister of Upper -street Chapel, Islington. — The Muswelt Hill Church ha? asked their minister, Rev. Henry Atkinson, to take a .three-weeks' holiday after a some- what severe attack of influenza. Rev. Dr. Mfred Rowland will occupy the pulpit next- Sunday. — Delegates to the Union this May vrill aave the opportunity of hearing Rev/C. E. Raven, the brilliant young editor of the VhaUcnqc. In addition to his other many jails, he is acting as secretary to the pro- jected British Empire Conference at Bir- mingham in 1924 'on "Christian Politics, Ethics and Citizenship." Mr. Raven has promised io speak at the Union Social Ser- vice Conference on the morning of Mav 11 on " The Modern Church and Social Con- viction/' It is hoped that Bishop James Cannon, jun., the leading authority on the nation-wide Prohibition movement in the United States, will speak at the Monday night temperance meeting in conjunction with Mrs. Tom Wintringham, M.P. — At Troutbeck Bridge Church, Winder- mere (Rev. S. Rixon), the total results of a recent effort for the manse fund is £330. fn less than three years nearly £1,000 has been raised for this purpose, ■