Class ^ Book GoijyriglitN^. F4 ; Q COPYRIGHT DEPOSrr THE FOUR GATES THE FOUR GATES BY REV. EDWARD F. GARESCHE, S.J. NEW YORK P. J. KENEDY & SONS 1913 T5 3^'^, COPYRIGHT, I9I3 \ ft I -i BY P. J. KENEDY & SONS JAN {5 I3i4 THE -PLIMPTON -PRESS NORWOOD -MASS -U-S'A TO THE MOTHER OF FAIR LOVE, AND OF FEAR, AND OF KNOWL- EDGE, AND OF HOLV HOPE; THE MOST MERCIFUL; THE MOST LOVING AND SWEET VIRGIN MARY ACKNOWLEDGMENTS Acknowledgments are due to the Editors of "America," "The American Ecclesiastical Re- view," "The Ave Maria," "The Catholic World," "Extension," "The Magnificat," "The Messenger of the Sacred Heart," "The Sacred Heart Review," and "The Rosary," for the kind permission to print poems to which they hold the copyright THE FOUR GATES Four are the gates To the splendors immortal, Which the slow Hours swing Open, and close. 'Tis Heaven that waits Just past the portal Of Summer and Spring Of Autumn and Snows. CONTENTS SPRING PAGE Gratitude i At Sunrise 2 To A Minor Poet 6 To A Babe 7 God's Tenderness 8 At Seven Years Old 9 The Giver 11 Thy Will Be Done 12 A Boy 13 To A Holy Innocent 14 In Every Heart 15 God Is Full of Pity 16 God's Home 17 Solace 18 Opportunity 19 The Afterglow 20 Proving 21 In His Light 22 The Trillium 23 Fortune Was a Flower ....... 24 Strike Home 25 St. Joseph's Morning 26 Joseph's Glories 27 St. Joseph's Eloquence 28 Contents PAGE "Last of the Patriarchs " 29 Joseph's Thoughts 30 A Little Child to St. Joseph 31 SUMMER A Song of the Summer 35 The Wren 36 The Swallows 37 The Voice of the Woods 39 The Mullein 40 At the Leap of the Waters 41 The Vine 43 Then! 44 Burn, Burn, Sweet Fire 45 Onward 46 The Meadow of Prayer 47 Why Wouldst Thou Rest? 48 The Mirror 49 His Power 51 Tell it to Mother 52 Figures of Mary 53 Mother of Sorrows 54 Her Memories 55 A Son's Petition 56 Mary's Thoughts 57 Her Lessons 58 Turn Thine Eyes upon Us 59 AUTUMN The Passing Days 63 Peace! 64 Our Angel's Solace 65 Contents PAGE As Angels See 66 The Angels of the Sanctuary 67 The Brave of God 68 The First Mass 70 The Young Priest 'j2 To St. Stanislaus Kostka 73 Before a Picture of St. Stanislaus ... 74 Saint Maurice to the Theban Legion . . 75 Glimpses 79 Phantoms 80 Traces of God 81 To-morrow 82 Some Little Thought 83 If Thou Art Pure 84 The Compass 85 The Church of the Immaculata .... 86 Forethought and Afterthought .... 93 Thankfulness 94 Daily Cheer 95 Happiness 96 Reviresco 97 The King's Banquet 98 WINTER Not Every Morn loi Truant Snowflakes 102 Over Thee, Jerusalem 104 Christ's Choice 106 A Star, A Flower, A Spring 107 Christ's Cradle ... 108 Bethlehem and Calvary 109 When Mary Looked on Jesus no Contents PAGE Jesus is Sleeping iii Gratefulness 112 Ave Verum Corpus 115 The Treasure of His Blood 116 Foreshadowings 117 What Does Jesus Prize? 118 But One 119 His Loneliness 120 Christ's Comfort 121 Christ's Silence 122 Holy Shame 123 He Waits 124 St. John at Ephesus 125 Deep Wounds 129 I Stand at the Door and Knock .... 130 Spiritual Communion 131 Give it Me! 132 Jesus, Mighty Lover 133 Dawn and Even 135 The Starry Melodies 136 Thy Voice 138 Our Years 139 SPRING The Four Gates GRATITUDE HE lordly sun looked kindly on a _ wave, "*• A tiny wave that ran upon the sea; And, lol the wavelet brake with joy, and gave A very shower of grateful brilliancy, A thousand timid sparkles, every one An image of the sun I HP The Four Gates AT SUNRISE ^ t |~~A WAS at the dawn's consummate flower, I — a morn, -*- Wondrous with dew-drops, and its vigorous air Fresh with a various-scented soul of Spring. Saint Francis, early on his outward way. Called to the wakening lark, and bade the sun— His brother Sun — to haste his lazy light Out of the East. A village hid near by; — An eager, tousel-headed urchin shrilled. Knowing the voice : " 'Tis Francis, haste and hear I" Then slow from sleepy morning tasks they come, The smiling folk — their brown arms bared for toil, The stains of labor on their roughened palms; And open-eyed and open-hearted too. They gather round to drink the holy word. Quick Francis blessed them — dear he loved the poor — And laughed as merry as the merry mom, 2 The Four Gates Then cried in gladness: "Lol Another day! How much God gives us, brothers, when He sends Another day! Ah, see the faithful sun Come shouldering through the mists to bring us all, Each lowliest waif among us, twelve bright hours, Paid one by one, in plenteous-pouring light, To live and love in, — live, and love our God I "This morning wind that mutters in the leaves, The babbling of the birds, that murmurous song That twitters from the blinking, new- waked fields, Cry: 'Love the Blessed God I' The blossoms wee That twinkle in the grass, with all their bells. Nod in strong concord; every spark of dew Glints gentle exhortation, and the clouds That flock like rosy doves across the dawn Sing silently together: 'Love our God I' O simple song of all the various world ! O myriad tones in one strong, sweet refrain ! O sermon of the sunrise, speaking still Of one fair text of love: 'Love God! Our God I' The Four Gates "Now, brothers, mourn not we are simple men, Unlearned, in devious turns of Art and Lore So we can hear this preaching of the morn. So we can breathe this reverential air, And feel the spirit of the adoring dawn, And while the tide of glorious day pours on Through all the radiant hours, to dash and drain On yonder ruddiest western sands of night. So we can bid our simple hearts sing on This morning canticle of praise and love, We have enough of Art, enough of Lore. "Oh, all the spangled flowers that dot the mead. Yon quivering wood and all the dewy wold And odorous air, and generous-pouring light That floods in benison across the world. Have but one heavenly, holy unison Which who hath heard, hath heard a great enough ; 'Love God I' — Tis all, as all are from His love I "Then, brothers, as ye delve the mellow soil These misty mornings, or beneath the noon Drowse in the chestnut's shade, or weary plod Through the gray evening toward the lights of home; 4 The Four Gates Whether ye trim the tangle of the vine, Or follow moving flocks, — in sweaty toil Or twilight peace, or when the lavish night Hath decked the widowed heavens with golden stars, — Let not your hearts forget this one refrain Nor let your souls this heaven-writ teaching lose. This sermon of the sunrise, but for e'er Live it in all your hours — 'Love God I Love God!'" He ceased, and in th' expectant East brimmed full The day's wide glory; and the lowly throng, Their faces lit with morning lights of faith And dewy tears of love, dispersed to ply Their gladdened tasks, each sweetly murmuring Beneath his breath : "Love God I" And Francis, glad As the glad daylight, sang upon his way Across the dripping fields, and in his song Called clear to every hill and wood and wold; And every wood and hill sang clear again The burden of the sunrise : "God! Love God!" The Four Gates TO A MINOR POET THOUGH the song-sparrow cannot sing As the thrush and mocker do, Living melodies, a-wing, Hymning God the woodlands through; Shall the mocker's cunning flute Bid the sparrow's pipe be mute ? Though thou canst not sing as they, Poets of a mightier song, Skilled to sound their splendid lay All the wondering years along — Shall their grand, harmonious skill Bid thy lesser praise be still ? The Four Gates TO A BABE THOU eager, wee epitome of man ! So curious, so apt for any lore Of words, or faces never known be- fore; Groping, with tiny hands, for life's great plan! Scarce can thy lips the stubborn words compel. To lisp conjectures of that waking mind; But loving eyes thy looks a language find Where clouds and smiles thy little passions tell. Thou snowy page, new-opened to the light Fresh, babbling joy, in thy first blush of days! Lord, save these tiny feet in holy ways. Till this pink morn hath weary waned to night! The Four Gates GOD'S TENDERNESS LORD, Thy glory it is good to guess, Good to dream Thy Power's vast excess Even o'er the marvels that we see. Yet forever sweeter far to me Is Thy hidden, holy tenderness I Winter hath a wild and lonely air, Like a world outworn, abandoned there. Yet beneath the desolation rude Of that stark and wailing solitude, Tender Spring's surprises dost prepare! Spring, with fairy blossoms fleeting-bright. Fades too soon from our enraptured sight, But the blossoms, melting in perfume, Die to yield the rosy apples room — And Thy love hath planned the Summer's warm delight ! 8 The Four Gates AT SEVEN YEARS OLD GOULD little Jesus call the sun When skies were dark and dreary, And make the rain-clouds flee, and run And play till He was weary? If we were playmates now, would He Chase off this tiresome rain for me? And all the scary little birds That won't let me caress them, Would they come flocking at His words And chirp for Him to bless them? My mother says they would; from me They fly, and scold me from the tree. And all the nicest flowers that grow Too high for me to take them, They'd bend their tallest branches low. If Jesus would but make them. Oh, what a pleasant thing 'twould be To have Him here to play with me I The Four Gates But mother says that long ago He's grown and gone to heaven. I s'pose it can't be helped, — but, oh, If He were only seven, And sometimes, with His Mother, He Could come from heaven and play with me ! lo The Four Gates THE GIVER WHATEVER good God sendeth thee, Lo I 'tis a gift of gifts most free !- Thyself, in love benign At first He gave, then gave thee grace, And loved the image of His face Reflected faint in thine I He gave His Son, the Mother-Maid, The Holy Spirit's mighty aid. And all His bounties seven; — Then, hosts of Saints to plead and pray For further gifts; — and one bright day He waits — to give thee heaven I 11 The Four Gates THY WILL BE DONE THY will be done I" A sweet refrain To pagan lips unknown I How should they cry it in their pain To gods of clay and stoned Dark fate appalled them, every one, — They never dreamed: "Thy will be done I" O Blessed Lord, from Thee we heard This saying of the blest I A boon from heaven this holy word, To cherish in our breast; It echoes now from sun to sun In tender prayer — "Thy will be done !" 12 The Four Gates A BOY CHANGEFUL as March, as April gay; Strange, unsure as the young Year's weather ! Rude as the winds of a Springtide day, Loving and plaguing by turns and together; Rollicking, petulant, impudent, coy, — Bless me I a marvelous mixture's a boy. 13 s The Four Gates TO A HOLY INNOCENT UDDEN to felicity, Heaven's herald summoned thee- Barely hadst begun to be I What a gulf, from shore to shore, Thou didst flee in safety o'er — Nothingness, to Heaven's door I Wrench and wound and toils and woe, Thou wilt never come to know All thou 'scapest here below! Nay — but guess it all, and pray For us others who delay Coming by a longer way I 14 The Four Gates IN EVERY HEART IN every heart God soweth seed — Some bloometh fair as day; Some groweth wild with meadow-weed, Or clambering vines, that wanton o'er, 'Til fruit and flowers can spring no more But faint and fall away. Yet sun and showers were there at need — Blame we the tillage, not the seed. 15 The Four Gates GOD IS FULL OF PITY GOD is full of pity And of tenderness From His Holy City Low He leans to bless I Soon thy time of labor o'er He will glad thee evermore ! Men are all deceiving, God is ever kind, Meek His grace receiving Bend thee to His mind; Soon, thy sweat and sorrow past, Thou shalt see His smile at last ! 16 The Four Gates GOD'S HOME MOTHER, where does Jesus dwell?' Child, He dwelleth everywhere. In the earth, and in the air. In the wide, unending blue — Even on the farthest star, Where Creation's limits are. Past all ken of me and you I "Mother, hath He any home^" First, His home's in Heaven bright. Wondrous mansions, built of light; Then, the Tabernacle blest; But the home He loveth most, More than Heaven or Sacred Host, Is thy sinless, loving breast I 17 The Four Gates SOLACE SOMEWHERE in the skies, Far and far above thee, Saints with tender eyes Look for thee, to love thee. Somewhere in the shine Of the light Elysian Some bright throne is thine. Some ecstatic Vision; Some exulting song 'Mid the Choirs Immortal, Place amid the throng Past the Heaven's portal I With some tender Name Jesus will receive thee. Some especial fame Mary's hands will weave thee. Send thy thoughts away Some sweet solace borrow; Flee the dull to-day In that fair to-morrow ! 18 The Four Gates OPPORTUNITY OF deeds, not days, a life is made. Yon watchers in the skies Must peer into our mortal shade With sadly-wondering eyes, And grieve our slothful hours are spent So foolish far from Heaven's intent I Each angel moment as it flies Brings hope of Heavenly gain; We stare with unregardful eyes, It leaps to Heaven amain. And bears too oft to Him above No lisp of prayer, no cry of love. 19 The Four Gates THE AFTERGLOW MILD sister to the silvery-vestured Dawn, Solace the widowed West with tran- quil gold. The Day from heaven hath rolled And all the flamings of his state are gone. Dark dreams the circle of dim shores before And daughters of the wave-enamored Moon, With silver-sparkling shoon Dance on the light lake's ever-twinkling floor. Soft on the headlands thievish shadows creep. Oh, still in tremulous glorv shine and glow! Thy parting step be slow, Ere all the shadowy world is lost in sleep I 20 The Four Gates PROVING EASY with breaths of duty fair To pay a wordy gift to God; To weave the wish and speed the prayer While stays the storm and spares the rod. Not this that proves thy metal true But courage in the bitter day, When clouds have swallowed all the blue And pain stalks threatening in the way. Forbid thy craven heart to weep, Compel thy soul to greet the pain; And bear unblenching up the steep. To drive thy stumbling heart and brain! Rudely, as who a sword would feel Doth wrench its blade, its spring doth scan To test the temper of the steel, — God proves the metal of a man I 21 The Four Gates IN HIS LIGHT I AM a mote in the beam Of the Infinite One. I am a glint in the stream He shine th upon. Fair, but with borrowed light, The light that He gave When He approved with His sight The mote and the wave. Like a planet I shine from afar With the grace that He gives. I live as the wandering star By the sunlight lives. This is my pride and my bliss While my hours shall run To shine e'en as dimly as this The praise of the Sun. 22 The Four Gates THE TRILLIUM (Wake-Robin) HERE'S a flower of wondrous kind Waving in the April wind, All in threes its parts combined; Three the dappled leaflets spread, Three the sepals arch o'erhead. And the petals, orderly, And the stigmas small, unrolled And the seed-pod, — all threefold! Must it not an emblem be, Three in one and one in three, Of the Blessed Trinity"? 23 The Four Gates FORTUNE WAS A FLOWER F ORTUNE was a flower, Youth and Joy together Sought it hour on hour Through the sunny weather. Youth hath twined it, weary, Round his silvered head, But he weepeth dreary Gentle Joy is dead. 24 The Four Gates STRIKE HOME IN the fresh-scented forest, dotted round With purple-clustered bloom, the woodman swung His rhythmic axe. And ever as it hung Poised still in air, — then bit with eager sound Into the sapwood, — it was joy to see How sure his aim, how true his arm uprose And drove unerring blows on sturdy blows Till groaned the trunk, and crashed the towering tree So in each worthy enterprise, no less Firm be our hand — our patient effort still That blow may follow tireless blow, and fill The careful meed of toil. So shall our stress And sweat and panting, by a constant will, Gain rest, and joy, and merit, — with success! 25 The Four Gates ST. JOSEPH'S MORNING SWEET on the listening airs of silent morn, To lonely streets the solemn church-bells sing. And every echo lends its mellow horn The long, slow clamor far and far to fling, His children, near and wide, 'round Joseph's shrine to bring. From square to square, from spire to spire they sound. While spreads the ruddy morning in the sky; Slow wind the early folk the church doors round, With gently thoughtful mien, and reverent eye; And dot the twilight aisles in prayerful modesty. Smile, Father mine, at this Thy festal mom. On these few toilers, faithful, lowly, pure. Thy dearest praise, as weary hours wear on, Shall rise from patient spirits of the poor. And in their humble tasks, Thine own meek toils endure I 26 The Four Gates JOSEPH'S GLORIES WHAT golden goodness shone in thee That Mary chose thy bride to be, And Christ thy foster-child; That angels, forth from Heaven sent, Woke oft thy love and wonderment, Thy grief and care beguiled! Take heart, ye lowly and ye poor; For Joseph's glories more endure Than wits and counsels keen. He from a cottage knew to rise Above the natives of the skies. The consort of their Queen I 27 The Four Gates ST. JOSEPH'S ELOQUENCE SO oft thou did'st with angels speak, And send thy heart on high, A silent man, of aspect meek Thou seemedst to mortal eye. But lords angelic at thy prayer To thee from Heaven were sent I Thy heart, — to men so silent e'er, With God was eloquent I 28 The Four Gates "LAST OF THE PATRIARCHS" LAST of the Patriarchs, with thee Bloomed the fair flower, virginity, From God's own gardens given. Threefold the snowy blossoms twine Round Jesu', Mary's heart, and thine, Nor miss the airs of heaven I Last Lord of David's House, alone Of Mary's self and Mary's Son, Guardian and lover true; Thou hadst His touch upon thy cheek. Thou heardst His baby wisdom speak, Whom but in dreams men knew. Last of the Prophets'? Nay I for thee Life was a breathless ecstasy, To which no voice was given. Some rapturous years thy spirit spent, Silent with love and wonderment. Then fled — and spake in heaven I 29 The Four Gates JOSEPH'S THOUGHTS JESUS' words and Mary's Oft the Gospels tell. Glad we read them over, Pondering them well. Sweetnesses of Heaven In the pages dwell. Then we gently wonder: "All the pages through Never word from Joseph?" Hark, the answer due: Jesus' thoughts, and Mary's, They were Joseph's, too. 30 The Four Gates A LITTLE CHILD TO ST. JOSEPH WITH Jesus and with Mary 'Twas very sweet to bide, — Nay, in thy cottage lowly A very Heaven did hide I For e'en in Heaven's glory By yonder gleaming tide, With Jesus' light and Mary's, What canst thou see beside I 31 SUMMER The Four Gates A SONG OF THE SUMMER SUN and shower, shadow and shine; Breath of the meadow and scent of the vine: The fields new sown, and the grass new grown, And over the hills he comes, alone I Straight his form as a sapling sheer; Light his tread as the gracile deer; His tresses fair as the tasseled corn; His brow as bright as the blush of Morn; His eyes as blue as the lakes, that lie And smile in the gleam of the cloudless sky I And lo! the winter is all forgot With its wrack and its ruin, — it mattereth not I For the Sun smiles clear through the sobbing rain, And the Summer — the Summer hath come again ! 35 The Four Gates THE WREN HOW can I praise so slight a thing as thou, O merry atom of the rolling song I As brisk thou rangest all the paths along, To lift huge twig-beams to thy hollow bough. Dost build a cozy nest within? And how Wilt feed thy young, small father? Nay, I wrong Such patient cheer; thy little heart is strong, To hope great things from toil, nor fears allow. O little wren, brave builder all the day. And pausing but to lift thy voice and sing; Tis pleasant, sure, to see so small a thing So large in hope ; with firm assurance gay. That present needs a present aid shall bring. And He who sends the want, will send the way. 36 The Four Gates THE SWALLOWS SWIFT searcher of gray skies, at even-hour, When the broad West brims full with ebbing light; Far ranging in the blue, the easy power Of thy keen wing can tire the baffled sight, Thou restless hunter on the coasts of Night I And earliest Dawning swings thee forth again. That first comes tinting all the expectant sky, With the clear floods of day, the tinkling rain Of thy sharp song, comes dropping from on high. As thou dost dart, and swerve; nor seem'st to fly. No labor of the flapping wing is thine, Thy dipping speed doth lord it o'er the air; And in the skies, trace wide thine easy line Of changing flight, nor find resistance there; As one the fickle breeze is charged to bear ! 37 The Four Gates Unwearied atoms ! fed of cloud and wind, Ye dot the farthest deeps with specks of life; And weave wide mazes with your lonely kind In the high air, above the tuneful strife Of social song, in fields and woodlands rife ! 38 The Four Gates THE VOICE OF THE WOODS THE world is very green and good, The skies are very fair; Where late the wintry forest stood, A pomp of green is there; The murmur of the lisping wood Is like a thankful prayer. Poor soul-less trees — ^how sing they clear With such a grateful sound? 'Tis as some pitying angel near Hath stooped him to the ground; And hiding in the freshness here Spreads thankfulness around I 39 The Four Gates THE MULLEIN NOW hail, thou cheery, bright-eyed senti- nel! Thou guard of many a grassy pasture dell, Above the clover; Straight-stemmed and tall, as peering from afar To see where yon the browsing cattle are And spy the rover. The wand' ring pathways bristle with thy bloom, Where mint-banks blow, and spread a sharp per- fume Across the hedges; And where the powdered highroad glaring runs, Thou dar'st the brilliance of the summer suns At meadows' edges! Dull eyes are pained, and blast thee as a weed. But still grow tall, and bloom, and cast thy seed As He hath told thee, Who set e'en weeds a time and place to grow. And keeps thee spite of man, that man may know Whose Hand doth hold thee I 40 The Four Gates AT THE LEAP OF THE WATERS HOW the swift river runs bright to its doom, Placid and shining, and smooth-flow- ing by. Blue with the gleam of the heavenly room. Smiling and calm, with the calm of the sky I Ah I but the plunge I and the shock and the roar, The spray of vast waters that hurl to the deep, The churn of its foam, as the measureless pour Of that wide-brimming torrent leaps sheer from the steep I Look ye; it reaches small fingers of spray To clutch at the brink, as unwilling to go Through the perilous air, and be fretted away In the tumult of vapor that boileth below. List ye I The voice of the huge undertone That murmurs in pain from the cataract's breast. Where the bruised, shattered waters perpetual moan. And wander and toss in a weary unrest. 41 The Four Gates Feel ye the breath of the cool-spraying mist, Cloudy and gray from the depth of its pain; Not as when sunbeams the waters have kissed, Rising in vapor to gather in rain, But fiercely and madly flung forth on the air, A shroud for this river that leaps to its death, A veil o'er the throes of the cataract there. And rolling and rent with its agonized breath! Wild torrent ! God put thee to thunder His name ! With the roar of thy waters to call to the sky Of His might, who hath set thee forever the same, To topple in foam to thy gulfs from on high. Loud hymn of the lake-lands! from shore unto shore. Still clamor His praises who called thee to be. Till the ears of the nations are tuned to thy roar, And they hear the vast message He trusted to thee! 42 The Four Gates THE VINE THY heart is fond, and it will cling To some beloved, endearing thing, Whether thou wilt or no. Tis as a soft embracing vine; Round a strong stem it yearns to twine And leaneth to and fro. Thy Lord is as a sturdy tree; His strong support He offers thee, To lift thee toward the sky. And all the lesser goods of earth Lure, with slim props of little worth, Along the ground to lie. Twine round thy God and climb in air, And bloom and ripe thy fruitage fair, Safe in the sunny height. But if along the ground thou stray, Poor tangled vine ! To waste away In snarled and evil plight. 43 The Four Gates THEN I GENTLE sun or shower, When the fields are fair, Rarely have the power To persuade to prayer. But when droughts are burning Or the floods are poured; Then, devoutly turning, How we pray the Lord! 44 The Four Gates BURN, BURN, SWEET FIRE B URN, burn, sweet Fire, O Flame Divine, Thine oil my life, my soul thy shrine I Bright increate, immortal Love, Dart keen Thy splendors from above! Burn, burn, strong Flame, nor spare, nor cease ! With every blast take bright increase, Till all my heart enkindled be — Alive with Fire, ablaze with Thee I 45 The Four Gates ONWARD CREATION waves thee onward, cries "Not here I" The glory of the summer's afternoon Points to the gilded even; evening's gold Wanes to the solemn night, o'erlit with stars. The brooding hosts of night, with silver beams, Beckon thy heart from earth, and bid thee raise Thy holy thoughts to Heaven. Heaven's array, The Thrones, the Dominations and the Powers, And all the souls that smile in glory, wave Thee onward still, forever cry; — "Not here I" Cast free thy struggling heart, and it will soar Past the clear halls of Heaven, and find its peace On the calm bosom of its Father, God. 46 The Four Gates THE MEADOW OF PRAYER PRAYER is a pleasant meadow, Where, for sunniest hours, Wide thou may'st wander, or linger Over the heavenly flowers. Life is a care-haunted city, Noisy with hurrying feet. Town-waif, who know'st not the meadows, Lovest thou thy turbulent street? Nay — ^but betimes from the tumult — Weary with passion and care. Turn from thy city of Babel — Come to the meadows of prayer I 47 The Four Gates WHY WOULD'ST THOU REST? WHY would'st thou rest*? The time is very brief Thy task to ply. These sunlight hours, when thou canst bind the sheaf, Run swiftly by; Soon must thou sink full weary to the breast Of gentle death, — why now dost sigh to rest? Why would'st thou rest when every golden hour Doth promise gain*? Brief, brief the span thou boldest in thy power — Few days remain. Haply full soon thou shalt be sore distressed When that calm Voice of God shall bid thee rest I 48 The Four Gates THE MIRROR IS the world so fair*? 'Tis a mirror solely Lo, in-imaged there God, the good and holy. Earth and sun and sea Lakes and streams and fountains ;- Who hath wrought but He O'er the shaggy mountains'? On the world of dawn Smiles His sun awaking, Through the twilight wan Beams His sunset breaking. All the flowers that shine Dappling o'er the lawn 'Tis a Hand divine Lays their colors on. Well He knows them all, How they ope and close Not a flower doth fall But the Maker knows. 49 The Four Gates All the busy day Yon from Heaven high Looks His sun alway Watching from the sky. All the weary night Stars that peer unsleeping Signal with their light God His watch is keeping! All they serve Him well Children good are they — Of their Father tell Through the night and day. Father dear and kind Through my life's few hours Bend me to Thy mind Like the stars and flowers. Help me labor on Good and mighty One Cheerful as the dawn Constant as the sun. 50 The Four Gates HIS POWER LORDS rule by largess; kings endow Their counts with gold, to serve awhile. But Thou, Rabboni, — only Thou Sway'st by the pleading of a smile. II Levi from all his gold departs, And Simon quits his nets, for Thee! What plea hath won their leaping hearts? Two words' sweet music — "Follow Mel" 51 The Four Gates TELL IT TO MOTHER TELL it to mother," — so we were told When we were lads, in the dear days of old. Then we would hearken, and tenderly creep Close to her side, at that soft: "Do not weep! Tell it to mother I" "Tell it to mother!" Babes still are we, Wayward and wild in our grief and our glee. Mary's our Mother. Oh, tenderly still Creep to her side when the world treats you ill! "Tell it to Mother!" 52 The Four Gates FIGURES OF MARY DEAR shrine of mercy, lowly home of love, Clear mortal lamp, where that immor- tal Light Deigned for a precious while to stay and shine. Whereat thy beauty grew so dazzling bright It rapt in wonder all the choirs divine — They hovered near to feed their glorious flame at thine I Thou'rt the white dovecote, where the Heavenly Dove, Folding His snowy wing, found stainless place, That oasis where God Himself took rest From the dry desert of our blasted race. And in the garden of thy stainless breast Made a new Heaven that paled the glories of the blest I 53 The Four Gates MOTHER OF SORROWS THOU hear'st the crying of all flesh to thee, Like to the sobbing of a far off sea, A sea of sorrow ! Oh, remember, thou Most tender mother, how those waves of woe Once overwhelmed thee, closed above thy brow. How thy heart wept with anguish I Even so Suffer the hearts forlorn that hail thee now. Ah, Queen of sorrow, bid their sorrows cease. Kneel to thy gentle Son and win them peace! 54 The Four Gates HER MEMORIES WHEN the little child, Innocent and lowly, Prays the Mother mild, "Make me pure and holy I" Then she seems to see Jesus at her knee. When the manly breast Groans in anguish, crying, 'Thou of mothers best, Help, for I am dying I" Then — oh, gain in loss! — Then she sees the Cross. ss The Four Gates A A SON'S PETITION MARY, true 'twas ever known Sons should like their mothers be Thou dost count me all thine own, Mother! If for that alone Mend me, make me like to thee I 56 The Four Gates MARY'S THOUGHTS WHEN hand in hand they wandered forth, His mighty world to see, What marvels Christ could tell to her Of sky and flower and tree, For though He was a tiny Child, All lore remembered He I Yet not the world His power had made Was Mary's thought and pride; Her little Son walked loving near Tender and trustful eyed! What recked she of Earth's fair array When Heaven was by her side! 57 The Four Gates HER LESSONS THY virgin flesh, more fruitful far Than all the tribes of mortals are, Made the reluctant ages see What glory hath virginity! Thy lowliness, in mighty wise, Hath drawn a Savior from the skies! How could the world, untutored, guess Such power is hid in lowliness'? 58 The Four Gates TURN THINE EYES UPON US TURN thine eyes upon us I Mother's eyes, that shine With the light they borrowed From the Babe Divine, While He lay and, loving. Fed His gaze on thine I Turn thine eyes upon us ! Gleaming bright with tears. Born with Jesus' weeping, In His griefs and fears. As His dying vision Searched the thankless years I 59 AUTUMN The Four Gates THE PASSING DAYS SWIFTLY the seasons come and go ; We greet them as they rise, And idly watch the hours flow, With unastonished eyes. Ah, dream we that our life's brief day Runs with those hours as swift away? We watch the springtime bloom and pass, Without a start of fear; Nay, but its blossoms are a glass That show our dwelling here, — Our silly lives, our blossom day Fleet with the flowers, as swift away ! We drink delight from Summer's shine And Autumn's rich perfume; But swift their sunny hours decline To Winter's barren gloom. Think how thy dear life's fruitful day To Death's dark hour so wanes away I 63 The Four Gates PEACE! TOO keen, too keen thy hurry and thy care ; Thy brain is weary with the whirl of things ; The world hath stolen thy heart all unaware. Thine eager thought in feverish circles swings. Peace! of the many goods thou cravest sore Which shall endure or which shall bring thee rest*? Life's draught, too sweet, but makes thee thirsty more; Life's swift burnt joys but leave a colder breast. Why love most dearly what doth least endured Who loves the least of earth the most is blest. Thou art too rich of heart — "Blest are the poor !" Drink that sweet wisdom from the Savior's breast. 64 The Four Gates OUR ANGEL'S SOLACE The Soul asketh: ART thou not weary, who dost keep Such long and loving ward, And while I wake and while I sleep Art ever near to guard; While reckless and ungrateful I So seldom dream that thou art by? Art thou not fain, betimes, to leave Thy thankless task and flee*? Thou hast so much to vex and grieve, So little joy in me I So oft I've made thee veil thine eyes, So little good behind me lies! 'the Angel repUeth: Not so ! I gaze beyond the years To where thy days shall cease. And glory drown thy faults and fears. Thy woes be lost in peace. Then, freed of all mortality, Thou' It be an age-long friend to me I 65 The Four Gates AS ANGELS SEE A LITTLE deed, a little prayer, So slight we scarcely heed the while; A moment's love, — and what is there To make an angel smile*? II A little guile, a little sin. So brief our hearts no memory keep; A moment's hate, — ah, what is there To make an angel weep I 66 Y The Four Gates THE ANGELS OF THE SANCTUARY E linger here the livelong day, For 'tis your heaven to love and pray; But I must toil afar. O brothers, give this solace sweet, That ye, my proxies at His feet, My friends and pleaders are I 67 The Four Gates THE BRAVE OF GOD NOT plumed War, With galloping charge and far-flung threat of steel, And thunderous, soul-appalling cannon peal; And clamorous blows, and sickening din of strife Where crush the frantic lines, and sway and strive for life. Not plumed War doth show the brave I There is a madness in the battle-ire Amid yon crimson hells of marshaled fire. That stirs and sweeps the heady valor on Through passes, that, traversed, it scarce dares think upon I Not maddening War can boast the Brave. Not mortal Fame, With the long lists of lauding History Of men, who by all gallant ways that be Won thronging honors in their little days, And sleep in conscious stone, all fretted o'er with praise; Not mortal Fame can boast the Brave. 68 The Four Gates There is a frenzy in the touch of Power — A joy to fill men's thoughts one fading hour, That stings the soul to spend its utmost breath, Till all its tinsel gauds are filched by thievish Death: Not worldly Fame, can boast the Brave. God's eye alone. In quiet ways, where wars of bloodless kind Pale the firm lip, and tire the dauntless mind; Where Faith is constant in the storms of Hell, And angels wondering praise, that flesh can strive so well. God's eye alone doth mark His Brave. No maddening shouts of war, no crowd's acclaim Stir Christ's meek champions to the lists of fame; But with calm soul, they meet the utter pain. Court every pang, who strive for Love — their ut- most gain! — God's eye alone doth know the Brave! 69 The Four Gates THE FIRST MASS "TT^ IS o'er! — the waiting-time is past! That train of years that sped so fast, Has brought thee to the feast, — at last I That virgin Bread, — the fragrant Wine, Thy soul's desire, at last are thine. Thou tremblest at the board Divine I At last those words in rapture said. Can break the Heavens o'er thy head And bid thy God to be thy bread I He quits the splendors of the skies, Oh, moving love! — in meek disguise How lowly on thy hands He lies! But Mary's self, in days of old. So close His holy limbs could fold, So, in her bosom keep from cold; Tho' all the world is wintry drear, Through all thy days of service here Warm in thy heart that guest so dear! 70 The Four Gates Oft let Him feel thy bosom glow With sudden fire, — that He may know Seraphic flamings, here below. Oft for the tribes of men beseech, — Thou hast a charge for all and each, Strive with thy Lord in loving speech. And, Priest for all Eternity, Whene'er that spotless Host dost see, Plead for us all, who honor thee I 71 The Four Gates THE YOUNG PRIEST HE stands before the altar of his God, Clad in symbolic vesture, and his hands Are raised in intercession ; candid youth Is on his brow, and in his eyes there glow Propitiatory fires of strong love And supplication, — eagerness, yet fear, Commixt of awe and longing. And he seems — Lit by the flaming tapers , and so pure Of garb and aspect, — not of earthly mold. Nor framed of clay, but as a spirit free. Stooped from his lofty choir, awhile to pray Before the dwelling of his Prisoned Lord ! 72 The Four Gates TO ST. STANISLAUS KOSTKA A SWEET intemperance of holy love, And the keen flaming of that chaste desire Which wore thy flesh like inly-burning fire, Took thee untimely, thou celestial dove I Untimely^ Nay, thou never lived'st in time! Thy soul, impatient of his dull delays O'erleapt his weary bars of hours and days, Rushed for its Goal, and won a sudden prime. 73 The Four Gates BEFORE A PICTURE OF ST. STANISLAUS l!he Gazer saitli: HOW fair the painter's hand hath shown Yon blest, untutored child I — His brow as bright as marble stone, His smile so angel-mild; Those gentle eyes, upturned fore'er In virgin ecstasies of prayer. He 'scaped the evil ways of life, Nor knew the peril nor the strife. The Seer replieth: Ah, say not so I Thou ill hast read The legend of his days: His heart with anguished sorrow bled, He fought through weary ways. No grief his lovely look doth hold, Nor trace of fires the chastened gold. For 'tis a gift to virgins given. To guard on earth this smile of heaven. 74 The Four Gates SAINT MAURICE TO THE THEBAN LEGION SIX thousand and six hundred strong, they stood Untrembling; and with one unmoved ac- cord Spake to the threatening Maximilian thus: "We are Christ's soldiers first — yours afterward. Command what He forbids not, and we rush Through very hells of battle at your word. But offer incense to your demon-gods We will not. Hence it is we stand apart Nor join your pagan sacrifice. Our arms We will not raise against you; it were joy To die for Christ as He hath died for all." Then spake the loud imperial herald thus: "This is the will of Csesar: — Ye refuse To do his bidding, — mutineers ye die I Twice shall each tenth man in your legion fall. As the lot falls. And know — if this avail No whit to move ye, — then the army comes To slay you where ye stand. Obey, or die I" And grim he strode away. IS The Four Gates Then Maurice spake — Their saintly leader — on their shields upraised. "Men of Christ's Theban Legion, hearts of gold, I speak not to conifirm your dauntless souls. I know ye, brothers; never battle-morn Saw braver, gladder lightnings in your eyes Than flash at thought of yonder threatening swords That make us martyrs. Blither ne'er ye were To grapple bloody death, than when he comes To crown you Christ's forever. Nay, I speak Not to confirm but purify. 'Tis well Being so near to heaven, we make our hearts Most heavenly, lest any earthly fire — Some spark of sudden anger, unawares Struck out by taunting word, or slaughterous sword; Some leaping of revenge, some hot desire To answer curse with curse and blow with blow — Taint with the smoke of earthly passion, this Our martyr-holocaust to Christ our Lamb. "For ye are warriors, — ye have learned to pay Thrust with quick thrust, and bloody wounds for wounds ; 76 The Four Gates To make a bulwark of your whirling swords And meet the maddest fury of the foe With iron resolution, stabbing back For each fierce stroke a fiercer recompense; And counting every death a welcomer fate, Than meek submission. But Christ's warriors know A higher, holier valor. Look ye all Where He doth hang on Calvary! O God! O Wounded Love ! O brave, to be so mild ! The Lord of Might! — The Lamb of Sacrifice! One gesture of yon wounded Hand would spin The universe to chaos : and It rests Meek on the blood-stained wood! The slightest sound Of that sweet voice would start the fires of Hell Up through the craggy earth to scorch and sear His puny torturers; — and list! 'Forgive! Father, forgive! — they know not what they do!* O patient Conqueror ! O noble wounds ! O Model of all heroes! How He bids To suffer and repay not, — for His Love! Then let no man uplift a threatening sword, Then let no heart repay hot words with hate, Nor any eye flame up with angry fires. But for yon darkened emperor and his host, 77 The Four Gates Pray we, as Christ for us; — and die like lambs As He, our Lamb, died meek on Calvary I — Men of the Theban Legion ! Loose your arms I" The clamor of their crashing steel uprose, A thunderous hymn, to Heaven, — shields and swords They flung them down, and all that glorious band Gave each his dauntless bosom to the thrust — All meek and brave like Him of Calvary! 78 The Four Gates GLIMPSES VAINLY, Lord, the mind of man Frets to trace Thy great design ; Hid is all the perfect plan, — Not a gleam and not a line I Then, betimes, and all undue, Comes a flash the darkness through, And the tiny part we see Hints Thy finished harmony I 79 The Four Gates PHANTOMS ALAS, that phantom-hopes and phantom- fears And phantom-love stir most the heart of man, Through all the changes of his foolish years, Through all the yearnings of his narrow span — Then, as it is, the hollow world appears. Only when Grief hath washed our eyes with tears. 80 The Four Gates TRACES OF GOD ALL that's fine and rare Pure and true and kind, Gentle hearts that love us, Skies that smile above us, In them all we find Savior dear and true. Tender hints of You. You are strong and fair, You are kind and holy; Far beyond their measure, Yet we find a pleasure From these traces lowly Yet so fair — to guess Your all-loveliness. 81 The Four Gates TO-MORROW WHO hath ever seen to-morrow*? Life is but a long to-day; What your thievish dreamings borrow They can never more repay, Seeking vain surcease of sorrow In the cloudy far-away. All your empty, fond foreseeing Is a frail and fruitless flower I Past and future — lost and fleeing — Now's the sum of all your power, And the focused lights of being Blaze upon the present hour! In the Now that God bestoweth Spend, nor spare, your best endeavor. Swift Time's mighty breaker floweth, On the crest you're swept forever Naught the misty future oweth, And thy past returneth never I 82 The Four Gates SOME LITTLE THOUGHT SOME little thought that steals to God away When all thy other thoughts are busy here, And saves one moment from the fretful day To spend in pleading at thy Father's ear, — Some loving thought may bring thee riches more Than all the weary hours that went before. 83 The Four Gates IF THOU ART PURE IF thou art pure, like lilies from the slime, Fair thoughts shall greet thee from the pools of time; Where sordid eyes but sordid mire can see, A thousand gracious joys shall flower for thee I 84 The Four Gates THE COMPASS THE sailor's slender guide of steel, Looks constant to the pole. Though winds may rave, and breakers reel, And ships go shuddering to their keel, It ever keeps the goal. One thrill of fire hath taught it sol Oh touch with charity My heart — and then, though billows rise And storms go clamoring to the skies, A steadfast guide 'twill be. 85 The Four Gates THE CHURCH OF THE IMMACULATA ' HERE is a shaggy hill that struggles free From the swart city's peopled wilderness, A little nearer God, a little high Above the stress and clamor of the world, And on the bold hill's brow, a temple stands, Serene and simple, rising from the earth. As though itself were earthly, yet fore'er Stretching to heaven. Its door is open wide, And lowly folk are there, who whisper prayers Or sob awhile, or smile at Mary's face Wrought tenderly in marble. All within 1 There stands on the brow of Mt. Adams in Cincinnati, a stone church dedicated to the Immaculate Conception. Its position on a commanding height, which rises suddenly from the smoky river bank, makes it a striking feature of the city front, while there cluster around it some remarkable customs and traditions. It is said that the statesman Adams, for whom the hill is named, declared, at the dedication of an astronomical observatory there, that here at least the cross should never come to domineer over science. Two cross- tipped spires now top the hill. There is a devout custom among the Catholics thereabouts of ascending very slowly the long stairs which lead to the church, and with a prayer at every step, to commemorate the Passion on Good Friday. The sight is a remarkable evidence of simple faith and devo- tion. 86 The Four Gates Is twilight reverence, and the tender thrill More eloquent than tongues, that shakes the heart From yonder Hidden Presence. 'Tis the throb Of that great Heart, still leaping 'neath the veil That hides, not stills it. Unregarded love I Unthought of, yet unending — lonely Christ Because Thy love hath distanced all our thought! About, above, the wild air hath its way. The winter's gale, careering livelier here. Raves round the spire, the lingers of the rain Pick at its crannied stones, the summer's heat Makes the strong sunshine quiver on its walls — But still that peace within, heart's ease, surcease ! Beneath, the city lies, begrimed with toil. Seen through the rollings of its vaporous shroud, Filling the vale with dust and din of trade, Wailings, and shouts of merry lads at play. The harsh, quick breath of engines, and the roar Of laboring factories, sounds that blended rise. Like a hoarse litany, to where Mary stands Carven in stone, on the roof's topmost verge. Watching o'er all her world, unwearying, Mother of men. And oft the red-eyed morn Hath waked the dim hill and the slumbering town With unregarded splendor, gorgeous noon 87 The Four Gates Hath touched the smoke-drifts with unvalued gold, And oft the thickening mantle of the night Shrouded the sable city, till the lights Brake from a thousand windows, and the gloom. Sparkling all diamonded with sudden stars, Out-stared the midnight heavens — more black than they, More thickly sown with fiery brilliancies, Till the wan morn crept weary from the east And bid them pale their beams — but still she stands. And still sweet Mary watches all the world, Uplifted, unregarded, merciful Most, where her mercy finds no gratefulness — Pleading for good and evil. And above Gleams the sweet emblem of the Crucified Bright on the darkened heavens. Runs the tale. Or true or false I know not, yet I know That in its inner meaning it is true. That one, far-famed for wit and eloquence, Speaking one morn to festive multitudes. Who gathered round a new-built dome where men Nightly should turn their lenses to the stars, 88 The Four Gates Gleaning the golden harvests of the sky, Spake boastful, "Here upon this windy height Is Science free ! No bigot's frown shall here Check her sublime outwanderings — never here Shall flame the slavish emblem of the Cross !" O frantic boast! and that was long ago I Where now the dome? Two churches rule that hill, Crowned each with Christ's meek emblem, hum- bly high! Proud Science! still God's mighty fanes must come To crown thy dearest summits. Time tries all, All works and toils he tries, for false and true. The false, his own, he crumbleth, truth hath naught From Time, nor Time can take from truth. And so thy truth shall stay, a mountain heaved To lift aloft the higher truths of God — To higher bear the emblem of the Cross ! So thy dross crumbleth, but thy gold remains To honor goodness — all truth praiseth Truth — God's Church fears but thine error, that shall die, Then she will love thee wholly! 89 The Four Gates Lol the fane Heaves its gray walls against the western sky, An emblem of the changeless cares of God ! Its walls are builded of a shelly stone, The hardened ooze of ages. In what blank Primordial night, or from the sobbing breast Of what primeval and forgotten wave Rose up its massy ridges, or how long Fell the soft shells in showers to make the stone, God knoweth only I Then He built for now, Now builds for undreamed ages, ever thus With long prevision, through the gaps of time, Worketh His prescient Will, nor swift nor slow, Building eternal temples. Trust Him yet I How did the blind worms, in their limy beds Dream they were building high a fane to God ! He wills the slight deeds of our petty days — Each trifling as a shell — shall fall in showers To the dark fathoms of forgetful pasts. Till Time's deep sea shall heave, and from its breast Cast up the treasured merits of our lives Grown to pure, gleaming marbles, fit to build The Heavens' city. Now we cannot dream Those bright, eternal mansions. Trust and wait ! 90 The Four Gates Gaze toward the shaggy summit — yonder stair That trails its dark way down the rude hill's flank Is that the stair of penance? There at noon That sweet, sad day on which our Savior died, Throng the devout and simple, every one Intent on his own purpose, wisely bent On his own cure, and scorning curious eyes, Climbs painful up this summit, step by step. As Christ went up to Pilate, moving slow. And at each tedious moment breathes a prayer. Craving his sins' forgiveness — touching scene I Is this the age of scoffers? Gentle God Still live Thy lowly martyrs — witnesses Who in the proud front of the sneering world Bear Thy sweet shame, and lift Thy holy cross. One time the joy of princes. Tenderly Thy prescient eyes forever blessed the poor — Thy poor shall never leave Thee ! Slow from the city's breast upbreathes a night Of noxious vapors, and the smoky veil. Ere yet the pitying skies beam forth their stars To cheer the dusk — whelms roof and tapering spire 91 The Four Gates And wraps the church in shadow. Fare thee well Dear guardian of the hill ; keep well the world Through the dim night, till smiles thy tower with dawn I 92 The Four Gates FORETHOUGHT AND AFTERTHOUGHT WHEN golden morrow greets thee bright, Shake off the slumbers of the night, Look o'er the hours glad before, And with a cheery spirit say: "Due service to my Lord I'll pay Ere darkness stay my hand once morel" When sober even bids thee cease. Look backward o'er the day's increase. Weep for the hours that sped in vain, Cry : "Well-a-day my Lord ! I'll try A busier hand for Thee to ply When morrow gilds the skies again I" 93 The Four Gates THANKFULNESS WHEN souls are groaning 'neath some great distress, What fluent prayers the hurrying lips express I Ah! but the Lord our stammering words must guess, When the dull heart turns slow to thankfulness. 94 The Four Gates DAILY CHEER THOU pitiest thy friend's distress, When sore thou see'st him fall, But of his daily weariness Thou thinkest not at all I Cheer for his lesser woes and needs In gentle pity keep — Those thousand kindly little deeds That make the heart to leap! 9S The Four Gates HAPPINESS HAPPINESS is not without thee, Not in hoarding nor in spending- Not in pomp of friends about thee. Though the world should jeer and flout thee, All its wrath in clamor ending, Ere it reach thy heart's strong portal All may die in sound and shouting, And thy gladness be immortal. 'Tis the heart's repose and peace. Strong in greed's and hate's surcease. Dowered with the graces seven, Joyous in its sin's release. Glad of earth and sure of heaven ! 96 The Four Gates REVIRESCO CEASE, bitter tears, or be ye turned to sweet I She must away, her toilsome days com- plete. And rest a while at her dear Master's feet. Long hath she sown beneath the sun and rain, Long hath she flung abroad the generous grain, And now must home, to wait her golden gain. For who hath labored in the fields of grace. Hath fed the poor, and found the orphan place, Death only calls apart, to bide a space. He steals not on her, shuddering in the haze — With eyes of tender hope she walks his ways. Toward the rich promise of her holy days I The seed is sown ! Ah, at the dawn of doom. In what green glories, what celestial bloom, Shalt thou spring up, dear heart, from out the tomb! 97 The Four Gates THE KING'S BANQUET DOWN in the golden valleys The ripe wheat nods and sways Unto the winds of Summer, Through all the dreamy days. Far on the vine-clad hillside The purpling clusters swing, — The grateful Earth doth furnish The table of her King! 98 WINTER The Four Gates NOT EVERY MORN NOT every mom the East shall bring thee cheer, And hopeful earnest of another day. Coin the bright hours, for all thy holding here Doth fleet away ! Not every even shall the parting sun Calm thee with promise of another dawn, — Some eve thy friends shall whisper one to one, Lo, he is gone I For dawn and morning fade to twilight's rest. To winter sleep these summer woodlands nod; The stream runs swiftly to the ocean's breast. And thou to God I loi The Four Gates TRUANT SNOWFLAKES M OTHER WINTER called them home. But the little flakes of snow, Longing with the clouds to roam, Didn't want to go. "Let us bide till Spring," they say; "See the bluebirds come again, With the little blossoms play. And the laughing rain." So they went unwillingly; And a naughty northern wind Whispered, "Hasten back with me," Falsely seeming kind. And the little snowflakes came. Floated down among the flowers, Whitened on the tulip-flame, Scared the sunny hours; 102 The Four Gates Melted on the greening grass, Fainted in the languid weather; 'Neath the beaming sun, alas I Vanished altogether. See the warning written here*? 'Mongst Oh, many, many others! Little children, this is clear, Better mind their mothers I 103 The Four Gates OVER THEE, JERUSALEM I OVER thee, Jerusalem Lo, the Lord doth rise ! Glory shines from Bethlehem There thy Savior lies. Waken thee, Jerusalem, Dawn is in the skies. II Over thee, Jerusalem, Pale the heavens are; Lo, from little Bethlehem Cometh up a star. Hearken thee, Jerusalem, Haste the Kings afar I in Over thee, Jerusalem, Angels gather bright, Faring on to Bethlehem Toward the rising light. Sleepest still, Jerusalem'? 'Tis the Holy Night! 104 The Four Gates IV Over thee, Jerusalem, Heaven's banners blow. Yonder into Bethlehem Simple shepherds go, More than thou, Jerusalem, They their Maker know. V Near to thee, Jerusalem, Stripped of Heaven's state, In the grot of Bethlehem, Near thy haughty gate, Meek He bides, Jerusalem, Meek thy Lord doth wait. VI Over Him, Jerusalem, Now the shepherds weep, Ox and ass in Bethlehem Mute their vigils keep. — Proud and dark Jerusalem Thou art drunk with sleep I 105 The Four Gates CHRIST'S CHOICE HY breast is very bleak and bare, A narrow place and poor ; — How should thy Lord find lodgment there? Its coldness how endure? T But ah! Christ loveth very dear The poor and bitter part I — He hastes to fill with angel-cheer The stable of thy heart! 106 The Four Gates A STAR, A FLOWER, A SPRING WHEN Jesus like a lovely star On Mary's bosom lay, Then all earth's shadows fled afar, — For her 'twas always day. When Jesus like a tender flower Bloomed fair in Nazareth, She never saw the wintry hour, — Spring lingered on His breath. Which of the ages fled away Hath dreamed so strange a thing? — One Star to make perpetual day I One Flower to breathe a Spring! 107 The Four Gates CHRIST'S CRADLE THE Maid hath lulled her Babe to rest,- O holy Babe, O Maiden blest I — Upon the cradle of her breast I The purest couch in earth or sky, Ah dearest bed, with veiled eye Upon His Mother's heart to lie I It rocks Him soft while every beat A tale of love doth low repeat, Or heaveth now with sighs more sweet! God lists the tender lullaby, — Nor all the choirs of heaven high Dare with that song in sweetness vie! 108 The Four Gates BETHLEHEM AND CALVARY THE weary eve is falling now, Oh, where shall Jesus rest? Full sweetly sinks His baby brow And lies on Mary's breast. His aching Heart forgets its care, And balmy slumbers soothe Him there. Again the sun is in the west Again His weary brow Leans from the cross. Oh, gentle rest, Where shall He find thee now*? Peace, bleeding brow, thy tortures o'er On Mary's breast thou' It sink once morel 109 The Four Gates WHEN MARY LOOKED ON JESUS WHEN Mary looked on Jesus, Ah, ne'er so sweet and mild Looked such a loving Mother Upon so blest a Child; Nor on her God and Brother A Maid so undefiled ! When Jesus looked on Mary, His gaze was ne'er so kind. Omnipotence had made Him This Mother to His mind; And far from Heaven He'd wandered This Queen for Heaven to find I 110 The Four Gates JESUS IS SLEEPING JESUS is sleeping I Clamors the gale, Wild waves are sweeping High as the sail, — But Jesus is sleeping I Jesus is sleeping I The mad waters rave, Dashing and leaping; Who is to save When Jesus is sleeping! Jesus is sleeping! Cower we here, Wailing and weeping, Heartsick with fear, — For Jesus is sleeping! Jesus is sleeping! Why do ye weep? Is He not keeping Watch in His sleep? Sleep, cares and weeping, — Jesus is sleeping! Ill The Four Gates GRATEFULNESS 9 A I AWAS weary even. All the glaring day I The patient Lord had healed the multi- -■- tude ; No depth of sickening wound, — no mortal ill, No pang of heart or frame, — of suffering mind Or tortured limb, but Jesus' loving hand Had soothed with healing, and the sinners heard : "Go thou in peace, thy sins are pardoned thee." At last the weary shadows stretched along, And all the world was tinted to a glow From western fires, and the throng was gone. Then He Whose touch upholds the cumbrous stars Sighed wearily and sate Him on a bank. His own around Him, and He rested there. But one, from his full heart, spake bold and said : " Are they all gone I — all thou didst heal I for shame I All day they bided in the burning glare And moaned to Thee, — and when Thou laidst Thy Touch On their sore, tortured limbs, and madest them whole, 112 The Four Gates They should have spent the utter night in praise. Yea, followed all Thy ways, and chanted hymns Of burning thankfulness, — nay, used the years Thy Hand hath purged from torments, for Thy praise." Then spake another: "O Thou Bounteous Lord, If Thou hadst given to me as unto these, Hadst cleansed me, leprous, from that scaly death. Cleared me of haunting devils, bade the life Course through my withered arm, — unbound the ties Of eager speech, or bade the longed-for light Pour thy glad world into my quickened eyes, I would have made the universal earth A witness to my healing; would have cried In every city of the tribes of men, — Yea, given Thy Holy Name to solitudes. And with the echoes of my thankful voice Bade the waked deserts praise Thee !" Then they all Stood sponsors to his thought. "And II — And I!" And Jesus turning, looked upon them all : "Which one hath more of Me — he whom My Hand Hath healed of leprous sores, and piteous limbs, 113 The Four Gates Freed of Hell's sieges, giv'n the light of noon, After long days of darkness, anguish, shame ; — Or you, My Own, whom that same Hand hath kept From every haunting evil, all your hours; Owe ye less thankfulness, that ye are spared, Than if I healed you, stricken? — let us on I" Then, pensive-browed, with eyes all misty-wet, They followed in His steps, their hearts a-storm With sudden shame, and bursting gratitude. 114 The Four Gates AVE VERUM CORPUS (A Translation) HAIL, true Body, truly born Of the Virgin, Mary mild ! Truly offered, racked and torn, On the Cross, for man defiled ; From Whose love-pierced, sacred Side, Flowed Thy true Blood's saving tide, — Be a foretaste sweet to me In my death's great agony, O Thou loving, gentle One, Sweetest Jesus, Mary's Son! 115 The Four Gates THE TREASURE OF HIS BLOOD EACH moment Thou art crucified, They nail Thy dear Hands to the wood, They spill the treasure of Thy Blood, They pierce Thy Heart ere Thou hast died. More cruel than the Jews are these; They hated Thee, but knew Thee not; These mock Thy Heart's kind agonies, Thine age-long benefits forgot. When shall the Resurrection be^ O bid Thy glory rend the tomb I — When shall Thy slayers dread their doom? When shall Thy just be saved and free*? 116 The Four Gates FORESHADOWINGS BUT once the gentle Savior died, Yet all His days were Passiontide : The dawning, dewy-eyed and dim, Foreshowed that awful day to Him ; The withered noon's untempered power Foretold the Cross and marked the hour; And in the glooms of veiling night, He saw those shadows quench the light, On Calvary's predestined height. 117 The Four Gates WHAT DOES JESUS PRIZE? WHAT does Jesus prize? Gifts of gilded treasure, Where the dazzled eyes Dream with dancing pleasure? Towers that touch the skies, Domes of mighty measure, These doth Jesus prize? Nay, but He doth love Words in kindness spoken, Thoughts that dwell above. Holy vows unbroken. Meekness like the dove, — More than fane or token. These doth Jesus prize! 118 The Four Gates BUT ONE WHAT angel would outwait the years, 'Mid cold neglect and heartless jeers, To gain some love and tender tears ^ There is but one, there is but one, That hath the dreadful gauntlet run, — No angel He; God's very Son I 119 The Four Gates HIS LONELINESS THE sons of men keep cheerful company, And ease their hearts with converse kind and free, While social earth and friendly skies give cheer. The woodland, clear and long Singeth its mingled song, And busy murmurs lull the city's ear. One only, sad and lone, Maketh His gentle moan In the still twilight of His lowly shrine; Few friends to comfort Him, Where, in His chapels dim. On empty aisles the flickering tapers shine! Alas ! what folly this I Shall we, in heaven's bright bliss, That soul -enthral ling smile forever see. If in His vigils here We, bent on selfish cheer. Will bear our lonely Lord no company? 120 The Four Gates CHRIST'S COMFORT HEART of hearts, where leaps the fire Of a constant, fond desire For the wayward loves of men; Now our tinsel trifles hold us, Now the mist of flesh enfolds us, — Blurs and clouds our feeble ken. Nay, but sometime, gentle Lover, Death will drive them, and discover All Thy charms, that angels see! — Then, the gauds of life forgetting, — Through the Suns that know no setting, All our love, is all for Thee I 121 The Four Gates CHRIST'S SILENCE THOU wast silent, Savior — why'? "Ah, My love had willed to die, Had I spake, My slightest plea Would have gained Me liberty — Left eternal chains for thee I" Thou wast silent, Savior — why? "Lo, I could not make reply." "Thy disciples," Pilate said, "Are they faithless all, or fled?" Jesus, silent, hung His head. Thou wast silent, Savior — why? "Teaching thee to not reply To the speech of ill-intent. Words are vain, and vainly spent — Silence most is eloquent." 122 The Four Gates HOLY SHAME LORD, who in the garden's shade All my debt of anguish paid, Dared and bore the Roman's doom, God, who on the bloody tree Hung a victim slain for me, God, whose glory split the tomb! All Your painful works and ways Slow I ponder, drinking long Of the love Your life displays, Till a holy tender shame Wakes at whisper of Your Name, That, for all Your love, I still Love so little, love so ill. Grieve You through forgetful days! 123 The Four Gates HE WAITS WHO, in thine hours of grief, Who brings thy soul relief? Thy gentle Lord with loving look and kind, — Thou needst not 'plain to Him Thy sores and sorrows grim. Thy deepest wound those tender eyes can find ! So in thy hours of glee Christ smiles and waits for thee. He waits to make thine every joy more fine. At Cana's wedding bright Who gave the last delight, Fills thy heart's cup with stronger, ruddier wine I 124 The Four Gates ST. JOHN AT EPHESUS ON Easter morn at Ephesus, the air Smelled quick with spring-tide, and the flooding sun Lit the wet land to sudden loveliness. In the broad civic square, a changing crowd Ebbed on its way, still draining, still renewed. Then on the sudden spying from afar A dear-loved form, one bright-eyed girl made pause With pointing hand, and her clear childish tone Shrilled through the din : " Tis John, he comes, 'tis John." As when a rock, upheaving 'mid the stream, Parts the quick waters, — so to either hand Turned the dividing throng. The Christians glad Swept to the accustomed corner where the Saint Was wont to teach. — The Pagans, careless, pass, With but a curious glance to see him come. He walked, a man all lovely with the charm Of youth-in-age. — His locks were snowed with years, But the mild eye, the blessing of his look, 125 The Four Gates Told that his heart was young, — was young as Heaven. And as he came he called his own by name, And with a glance lit gladness in their eyes. And last, upmounted in his favorite chair, Blessed them all wide and smiling thus began: "My little children ! When I see you stand So dutiful, all listening round my chair, I am content. He bids me stay so long, (When all the rest are gone) and feed His sheep — Aye, and His little lambs, like Aeneas there. Come hither, child, and sit between my feet! — And thou, poor mother, give thy little son Into mine arms awhile, thou art o'erworn — Sol — When I sit among you thus, and see Your eager looks and think what best may feed The flames of Faith, and Hope and brightest Love In your dear hearts, of all that Jesus said, One sentence ever murmurs in my mind. One echoes on my lips. — Ye weary grow Perchance of hearing: 'Little children mine, Love one another' — ah, the height and depth. The strength, the light, the sweetness that doth lie In those brief words I They are the mighty half Of all His law, the whole of all your debt Towards all your brothers. By this simple word 126 The Four Gates Ye are a people set apart, — the world, The poor, dark, pagan world — doth gape and stare Upon your mutual love, and murmureth oft 'How they love one another' in amaze — Not fathoming the fountains of your love, Not having known Love Crucified I How oft Hath this great blazing radiance. Charity, Been as a beacon shining 'midst the dark. To lead some wandering sheep into the fold, All cold and starved for Christian lovingness. Then be not, ye so rich in charity. As niggards with your bounty; spread afar This fire of love, this flame, this warming light, Which He hath lit for the whole world's consum- ing- Tire I came to cast upon the earth And will I not that it be kindled?' Still Hear pleading in your hearts that gentle voice, And fling abroad the flaming brand of love, A light unto the Gentiles beckoning on The darkened world. For fire is not consumed By kindling other fires, nor loseth light By shining; rather 'tis the starving fire. Which hath no more to kindle, that doth die. So shall your love grow greater when you love All men in Christ, your light shall lovelier shine 127 The Four Gates When it doth beam to all the shadowed world Which He hath died for. Love and love and love Is all the law! Love God in all, and all Alone in Him. Thus shall your lives and deeds Be fuel unto that heavenly fire that burns Through all the damps of death and leaps and glows Renewed eternal at the look of God." 128 The Four Gates DEEP WOUNDS WHEN tender limbs are rudely torn, A many friends there be To soothe the hapless wight forlorn With gentle sympathy. But, ah, the wounds the heart that tear Nor any hurt appears. One Friend — but one — can heal thee there Beneath the springs of tears I 129 The Four Gates I STAND AT THE DOOR AND KNOCK I ST AND at the door and knock, And there comes, to My listening ears, Sometimes revel and song. And sometimes a murmur of tears. But never they bid Me in, As I wait through the weary years. Do they scorn Me, or do they forget"? Ah, to forget Me is scorn I The world and the flesh enter free. But I am left waiting forlorn I Yet here I bide through the night. Even till judgment morn I 130 The Four Gates SPIRITUAL COMMUNION T^he Soul crieth to Jesus: THIS day I've not received Thee, Sad day of all the year, An evil chance bereaved me, — I miss Thy presence dear I Oft towards Thy distant altar My pleading accents falter To beg Thee hasten here I Then, from Thy far-off dwelling Thou leapest like a fire I Thy love — O all-compelling I — Hath heard my heart aspire. Ill-chance hath not bereaved me, — This day I've oft received Thee In unions of desire I 131 The Four Gates GIVE IT ME! I HEARD a child, — 'twas pleading low, For what wee boon I do not know, But ever and again I heard A sweet refrain repeated o'er, Like lap of wavelets on the shore, Or warble of a teasing bird; — "Now, dearest Father, give it me, 'Tis but a little thing to thee !" Till father pledged his word. I took a lesson, — ^now, when I Would plead, with many a longing sigh. For somewhat from the skies; These words I whisper, like a child, Upturning to my Savior mild The prayer of pleading eyes : — " 'Tis but a little thing for Thee ! O gentle Jesus, give it me I" And kind my Lord replies ! 132 The Four Gates JESUS, MIGHTY LOVER J ESUS, mighty Lover, Victor all sublime, Bright Thine armies cover All the coasts of Time ! Lords of earthly empery Rule not, nor are loved like Thee. Throngs of martyrs, dying In Thy dearest name. For the tortures sighing, Flying to the flame, — Prove the fire's most fierce excess Than their eager love is less. Hosts of virgins, living Angel lives for Thee, Rich in utter giving. In Thy bonds most free, Join Thy sinless choirs above In their ecstasies of love. 133 The Four Gates Jesus, patient Lover, Bid us love Thee more; All Thy charms discover, All Thy grace outpour. Till our utmost heart's desires Kindle with Thy love's sweet fires! 134 The Four Gates DAWN AND EVEN IN the morning rise and say, "Jesus, on the altar lying, For the tardy peep of day Tenderly is sighing, Till I come and pray I" When the waning, fainting light Tells thee soon the day is going. Crown thy toils aright, Say: "My Lord, His peace bestowing, Waits to say good-night I" 135 The Four Gates THE STARRY MELODIES WHEN Even, on the skies, Doth write God's harmonies, And one by one pricks forth the golden bars, Then, from those linked fires. Loud hymn th' angelic choirs, Reading the flaming music of the stars. Our ears the music miss. Too gross for so much bliss. That else would wake a heaven in sinful man ! And all their skyey book A starry maze doth look. When our dim eyes the golden numbers scan. Unchanged those numbers bright Beam forth from night to night. Full clear hath writ the Heavenly Master's hand, His music's rapturous range Hath need of growth nor change, — Eternal-fair the starry concords stand! 136 The Four Gates Alas ! we cannot read How runs the sacred screed, Of orbed songs that thrall the seraph's eye I If we but learned to spell That mazy music well! — Of such sweet harmonies our soul would die, And melting to angelic strains of love, Leap up and mingle with the choirs above ! 137 The Four Gates THY VOICE THY voice is in my ears the livelong day. The world speaks for Thee, all the golden hours There is a wistful music, from the flowers, And o'er the rainy grass A whispering plea doth pass That calls, calls, calls me from the world away. Thou pleadest from the throngs that move and wait; Men's faces speak a questing, peer they on Yearning for distant joys beyond the dawn: Above the stars and sun They bid my musings run, Soar up, and seek Thee at the heaven's gate. My own heart speaks for Thee! It hears Thy call, 'Tis pining ever for Thy coming joy. Naught can its restless ardors long employ — 'Tis struggling to be free Leap up and rest in Thee Beyond the gyves of time, and chance and all ! 138 The Four Gates OUR YEARS OUR years like a gleam of light, Fleet past to the eyes of God; They are nothing in His sight, Who hath seen the ages plod. Wearing the vales away and humbling the hills from their height. Our days but glance and are gone, To the Ancient of Days who knows All the summers and snows That have been since the primal dawn. What are the years of a man? — like the wind that wavers and goes I 139