LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 
 
 ■'VTt^^5B — ' 
 
 di^ji. - ©np^rtjlt Ifn. 
 
 Shelf ..Jgi:-. 
 
 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 
 

 m 
 
" mijwawl i fift piMJ <&m-" 
 
 POEMS 
 
 BY y" 
 OLIVER ELLSWORTH DAGGETT, D.D. 
 
 NEW YORK : 
 ANSON D. F. RANDOLPH & COMPANY, 
 
 900 BROADWAY, COR. 20th ST. 
 
f.^ 
 
 3^ 
 
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1880, BY 
 
 A. D. F. Randolph' & Co. 
 
 E. O. JENKINS' PRINT, 
 
 20 N.William St., N.Y. 
 
// 7nay be of interest to the 7'eade?'s of these Verses to 
 know that, with four exceptions^ they were luritten 
 within two years of the Author s death. 
 
 Hartford, Conn., Bee, 1880. 
 
TO 
 
 HIS PEOPLE IN CANANDAIGUA 
 
 HE MINISTERED IN THE GOSPEL FOR NEARLY THREE AND 
 TWENTY YEARS, 
 
 HIS MANY FRIENDS ELSEWHERE, THESE VERSES ARE INSCRIBED 
 BY THE FAMILY OF THE 
 
 ^utl)or. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 
 
 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Let us Pray 7 
 
 In Memoriam— I. (There is a natural body) 
 
 
 11 
 
 In Memorial— II. (There is a spiritual body) 
 
 
 13 
 
 " He Lifted up His Eyes " . 
 
 
 16 
 
 Lights .... 
 
 
 
 
 18 
 
 Eulogies . 
 
 
 
 
 
 20 
 
 Ruth 
 
 
 
 
 
 23 
 
 Birthday Lines 
 
 
 
 
 
 26 
 
 Faith (sonnet) . 
 
 
 
 
 
 29 
 
 Eyes 
 
 
 
 
 
 30 
 
 The Faithful Saying 
 
 
 
 
 
 36 
 
 Doubts 
 
 
 
 
 
 39 
 
 Lines on Mrs. Sykes 
 
 
 
 
 
 41 
 
 Our Sires and Our Stars (i86i) 
 
 
 
 46 
 
 John the Baptist Redivivus 
 
 
 
 49 
 
 A Dream 
 
 
 
 53 
 
 Change 
 
 
 
 58 
 
 The New Earth . 
 
 
 
 
 
 60 
 
LET US PRAY. 
 
 /^NE Sunday morning, I remember well, 
 
 The people gathered at the accustomed 
 bell 
 That tolled its last ; the organ's plaintive close 
 Left us expectant ; when the pastor rose, 
 As if his lifted hand had gentle sway, 
 All heads were bowed as he said, ''Let us pray! 
 
 The prayer, the hymn, the sermon I forget. 
 But these three words have lingered with me yet ; 
 Though but the '' bidding prayer " of ancient 
 
 phrase. 
 And grown familiar in all later days, 
 
8 Let tis Pray. 
 
 Yet in itself a prayer just taking wing, 
 
 As when a psalm begins, '' Come, let us sing ; " 
 
 A sacred formula — a charm to rest 
 
 The weary or to soothe the troubled breast ; 
 
 Nor less in holy wars a banner-cry 
 
 Of saints in arms ; a signal to the sky 
 
 From earthly voyagers on their erring way 
 
 Or tempest-tossed, all saying, ''Let us pray!' 
 
 I think of nothing better said or done 
 When man and woman come to be made one, 
 Or when a child that God has lately given 
 Is set apart again to God and heaven. 
 While round them throng the wishes, hopes 
 
 and fears 
 That scan the future, even the eternal years ; 
 When kindred minister with muffled tread 
 And gentle hands around a sufferer's bed, 
 Or listen, as they watch the mortal strife, 
 To fainter footfalls of receding life ; 
 
Let us Pray. 9 
 
 Or from a home bereaved the mourners come 
 Bearing their treasure to its latest home : 
 In all the deeps of life what shall we say, 
 Or on its heights, but ever, ''Let us pray " ? 
 
 Nor yet in our tumultuous woe alone, 
 
 Or helpless need, the call to prayer we own : 
 
 In outward calm, what if we feel within 
 
 The unrest of doubt, infirmity, or sin? 
 
 With cares of business or of home perplexed, 
 
 Or only by untoward trifles vexed, 
 
 If ours the turbulent or feeble will, 
 
 Whate'er our yoke, we chafe against it still ; 
 
 Distempered thought breeds phantasies and 
 
 fears, 
 As in the driest air the dew appears 
 On the chilled chalice ; we may stand aghast 
 At the mere shadows we ourselves do cast ; 
 The nerves rebel, the passions rage or pine. 
 Till the poor soul, as through the fumes of wine, 
 
lo Let us Pj^ay. 
 
 Sees things awry as in disjointed dreams, 
 And doubts if anything is as it seems ; 
 Or sudden memories weigh the spirit down, 
 Or conscience darkens to a pitying frown : 
 In the night watches, or the weary day, 
 Who would not heed the summons, ^^Let us 
 pray''? 
 
 But sometimes skies and homes and hearts are 
 
 bright. 
 Sleep is all rest and even labor light. 
 All sounds make music, every wind blows fair, 
 A sweet content we breathe as native air, 
 Loving and lovely friends our life renew, 
 The heaven we hope for lies about us too : 
 Who would not sing for thankfulness to-day ? 
 But prayer and praise are one — so, '^ Let us 
 
 prayT 
 
IN ME MORI AM. — I. 
 
 " There is a natural body." 
 
 XMMORTAL is my friend, I know : 
 
 Not sumnaer's turf nor winter's snow 
 Nor depth of earth could turn to nought 
 So much of hfe and love and thought. 
 
 And yet that form I did intrust 
 To kindred earth, the dust to dust, 
 And thither still my thoughts will tend 
 As if to find my vanished friend. 
 
 Sacred the robe, the faded glove, 
 Once worn by one we used to love ; 
 
12 In Memoriam. — /. 
 
 Dead warriors in their armor live, 
 And in their relics saints survive. 
 
 And there I tenderly laid down 
 The hands that fondly clasped my own,- 
 The eyes that knew and answered mine 
 With many a meaning, loving sign, — 
 
 The lips, familiar with my name. 
 That freely called me and I came, — 
 The breast that harbored all good-will, 
 The loving heart now cold and still. 
 
 Oh, sheltering Earth, henceforth defend 
 All thou hast garnered of my friend 
 Against the wintry tempest's beat, 
 Against the summer's scorching heat. 
 
 Within thine all-embracing breast 
 Is hid one more forsaken nest. 
 While in the sky, with folded wings. 
 The bird that left it sits and sings. 
 
IN ME MORI AM. — II. 
 
 " There is a spiritual body." 
 
 /^ FRIEND unseen, of whom I sung 
 
 A simple strain with faltering tongue, 
 When thou hadst vanished from my view, 
 As beckoning thee one more adieu, 
 
 I know thou art, yet know not where, 
 Though '' earth to earth," thou art not there 
 I know thou art, and art at rest 
 In some fair region of the blest. 
 
 What if, as sages guess, that sphere 
 Be not to us remote, but near, 
 
14 In Memorzam. — //. 
 
 And thou hast waked as from a dream 
 Where things of sense but shadows seem ? 
 
 Enough that thou in that abode 
 Art with the Holy One of God, 
 Who called it Paradise, and led 
 The way that His disciples tread. 
 
 Thee shall I yet again behold, 
 And know thee as I knew of old. 
 Yet not, as in that vision fled, 
 '^ Of the earth earthy," dying, dead ; 
 
 Nor yet a viewless spirit bare. 
 
 Or naked phantom of the air ; 
 
 In thine own form which He shall give, 
 
 Like His transfigured, shalt thou live. 
 
 '' Stars " in their several splendors shine. 
 And surely thou wilt rise in thine ; 
 
hi Memoriam. — //. 15 
 
 Though '' sown in weakness," — ^' raised in 
 
 power " 
 The seed shall bear its perfect flower. 
 
 " Dishonor " now, but " glory '* when 
 The dead in Christ shall live again ; 
 I see beyond the garnered dust 
 The convocation of the just. 
 
 Thy way, thy end be mine : I bow 
 In the dim light that shineth now, 
 And go that way with prayer and song 
 Till then — '' how long, O Lord, how long ? " 
 
 I would my fellowship with thee, 
 As with thy Lord and mine, may be 
 Like His own years that have no end. 
 My mortal yet immortal friend. 
 
"HE LIFTED UP HIS EYES." 
 Luke vi. 20. 
 
 /^H, eyes that lifted from her breast 
 
 Did on the Virgin Mother's rest ; 
 That Simeon and the magi saw ; 
 That questioned teachers of the law ; 
 That on the mountain vigils kept, 
 And at the grave of Lazarus wept ; 
 That frowned on pride and greed, yet bent 
 To cheer the outcast penitent, 
 And looked on Peter in the hall 
 Till bitterly he wept his fall : 
 Oh, anguished eyes that on the tree 
 Quailed not at shame and agony, 
 
^' He lifted tip His eyes^ 17 
 
 But through the mist of death did win 
 The guilty sufferer from his sin ; 
 That solaced friends amidst their woes, 
 And looked to heaven for taunting foes ; 
 That in the tomb all sightless lay, 
 But saw again on Easter day, 
 And when escaped the tomb's eclipse, 
 *' Rabboni ! " drew from Mary's lips ; 
 That loving, wondering followers met, 
 And last looked down on Olivet : 
 Oh, eyes that from the '' great white throne " 
 Shall all survey, by all be known ; 
 Us, too, in pity now behold 
 As erring wayward ones of old ; 
 Or from the throne, or from the cross 
 Our hardness melt, consume our dross ; 
 Illumine our uplifted eyes, 
 And light our passage to the skies. 
 2 
 
LIGHTS. 
 
 I am the light of the world. Ye are the light of the 
 world. He was a burning and a shining light. Among 
 whom ye shine as lights in the world." 
 
 XNTENSE and pure the whiteness lay, 
 
 As 'twere the sudden glare of day, 
 Along the wall suffused and bright 
 With radiance of electric light ; 
 
 And candle-flames that rose between 
 Cast only shadows on the scene, 
 As if their light were but a shade 
 Upon the brighter lustre laid : 
 
Lights, 1 9 
 
 Which when I saw, the chemist's art 
 Taught a sweet lesson to my heart : 
 For even so, Lord Christ, in Thee 
 The pure white '' h'ght of light " we see : 
 
 And while abroad the radiance streams. 
 If Thy disciples' duller beams 
 Look dim and dusky, still they shine 
 With light that is akin to Thine ; 
 
 Nor would I wonder or complain 
 As if their ministry were vain. 
 But with them worship Thee, and say, 
 THOU art more luminous than they. 
 
EULOGIES. 
 
 ^T^HERE lay a man of worth and service 
 
 rare 
 Shrouded and coffined in the house of prayer, 
 And Christian ministers their tributes paid, 
 Sincere and generous, to the honored dead. 
 
 But one, the wisest, paying his in turn. 
 Added a lesson it were well to learn : — ■ 
 '' I would the kindly words now spoken here 
 Were heard by him who lies upon the bier ; 
 
 " And better still, that he had heard them when, 
 A modest man among the crowd of men. 
 
Eulogies, 2 1 
 
 Weary or sad sometimes, baffled or tried, 
 Disheartened even, wronged, perhaps decried, 
 
 ^' Faithful he toiled on his allotted way, 
 And patient bore the burden o{ his day : 
 It would have cheered his inmost soul to 
 
 know 
 These honored brethren loved and prized 
 
 him so ! 
 
 '' Ah, why not oftener on the living shed 
 The fragrance lavished on the unheeding dead ? 
 Who needs not ministries of strength and 
 
 cheer ? 
 Respect, good-will, and sympathy are dear 
 
 '' In giving and receiving, nor are meant 
 To be reserved, but rather freely spent ; 
 The wayside strain of kindness to a friend 
 Excels the dirge that only chants his end." 
 
2 2 Eulogies. 
 
 Thanks for the lesson. Heed it ye who hold 
 For every fault your function is to scold 
 Children and servants, yet from praise refrain 
 When most deserved, '' lest it should make 
 them vain." 
 
 Praise to whom praise is due : pass on the rule 
 To office, shop and field, to home and school. 
 None are so lofty they can never need, 
 And none so low they can not earn the meed. 
 
 In every sphere of faithful service done 
 Thanks, and not pence alone, are fairly won : 
 In generous courtesy is found an oil 
 To smooth the wheels and bands of daily toil. 
 
 Out of the heart's abundance let some cheer 
 Be spoken while your friend hath ears to hear ; 
 Deck, if you will, with flowers his place of rest. 
 But fix the sweetest on his living breast. 
 
RUTH.* 
 
 T30SE of Moab, sweet and fair, 
 Blooming in thy native air, 
 Yet transplanted in thy prime 
 Into Israel's foreign clime ; 
 Widowed in thy winsome youth. 
 Loyal Moabitess, Ruth, 
 Centuries of sacred fame 
 Shrine for us thy blessed name. 
 
 Matronly Naomi, thou 
 
 Heard'st her sweetly solemn vow, 
 
 * Suggested by the sermon preached in the Park Church, 
 Hartford, Conn., Sunday evening, Jan. 25, 1880, in which 
 the name was happily referred to as originally signifying 
 Rose, 
 
24 Rtith, 
 
 When to thee she closely clave, 
 Journey, lodging, altar, grave. 
 All with thee to share, and be 
 Loyal daughter unto thee — 
 Widowed souls entwined, the two, 
 Each to each and Israel true. 
 
 Boaz, rich and kind and strong, 
 Bethlehem's reapers chief among. 
 Once the modest gleaner seen 
 Wisely thou thyself did'st glean. 
 Ending thus the kinsman's quest, 
 Moab's rose upon thy breast ; 
 Israelite indeed, thou art 
 Blessed in thy house and heart. 
 
 Lo, the rose on Israel's stem 
 Grafted thus in Bethlehem — 
 In its latest, ripest fruit, 
 David's offspring, David's root — 
 
Ruth, 
 
 Flowered divine on earth, to rise 
 Perfected to Paradise, 
 There and here henceforth adored, 
 David's Son and David's Lord. 
 
BIRTHDAY LINES 
 
 To an invalid friend who had said, " Your presence is rest- 
 ful."— Dec. 29, 1S78. 
 
 ^^ "pESTFUL"am I? It were well 
 Thus to use so rare a spell, 
 Soothing many a winter eve, 
 And a tranquil blessing leave. 
 Brings the date some need of cheer 
 With the waning of the year, 
 Like the wayworn pilgrim's quest 
 Toward the nightfall for his rest ? 
 Yet before my partial sight. 
 Prematurely " clothed in white, ' 
 Whiling evening hours away 
 With a story or a lay, 
 
Birthday Lines. 27 
 
 You, whom first I learned to know 
 Over two score years ago, 
 Scarce the wonted tokens bear : 
 Time and grief and pain and care 
 Have not yet the forehead fair 
 Furrowed, nor despoiled the eye 
 Of its old benignity, 
 Nor the voice untuned or stilled, 
 Nor the genial temper chilled. 
 So you cheer the eventide 
 When a friend is by your side ; 
 So I get the boon I give — 
 You bestow what you receive ; 
 Restful if I am to you, 
 You to 7ne are restful too. 
 So, it seems, 'tis well attested 
 When we meet that both are rested. 
 Aged friends are we to-day, 
 Pilgrims well upon our way ; 
 
28 Birthday Lines. 
 
 Sometimes weary both, In need 
 Of another '' Friend indeed," 
 Whom from us no time can sever, 
 Yesterday, to-day, or ever. 
 So we pray at eventide, 
 Saying, " Friend, with us abide ;" 
 And He answers our request. 
 Saying, '' I will give you rest." 
 
FAITH. 
 
 ~r O islanded upon the troubled sea, 
 
 A sea of clouds, a bare but sunny rock, 
 As it were anchored fast, abides to mock 
 The surging mists that fret incessantly 
 Its shapeless sides. It is a mountain head. 
 And there a lordly eagle folds his wings 
 Proudly apart from men and living things. 
 That sea of clouds in the clear sunlight spread 
 Beneath him heaves and sparkles to his sight. 
 Yet frowns in sullen gloom on such as go 
 Creeping along earth's grovelling paths below 
 And can not see the arching heaven of light. 
 So darkest clouds will brighten to the eye 
 Of faith above them poised, and nearer to 
 the sky. 
 
EYES. 
 
 TDESIDE my bed, when I was young, 
 
 A grave ancestral portrait hung. 
 And well I knew, when I awoke. 
 That ancient face as if it spoke. 
 When first one morning with surprise 
 I noticed that those painted eyes 
 Looked into mine, I turned away, 
 But presently from where I lay. 
 Stealing another glance, I met 
 Those eyes, unwinking, on me yet. 
 Then all about the bed I slid, 
 If so perchance I might be hid, 
 And yet wherever was my head. 
 At top or bottom of the bed. 
 
Eyes, 3 ^ 
 
 On either side, or in the air, 
 
 The eyes still gazed directly there. 
 
 In vain I drew the sheet about 
 
 My own to shut the vision out, 
 
 Or nestled in the cosiest nook 
 
 To tire and turn that steady look : 
 
 If I but peeped it was to see 
 
 The portrait staring straight at me. 
 
 A sort of prickly shudder came 
 
 And went through all my little frame, 
 
 Yet on those eyes my own would dwell. 
 
 Till only breakfast broke the spell. 
 
 Twas but a painter's common skill, 
 
 By simple touches at his will, 
 
 To make the self-same portrait eye 
 
 The looker-on so steadily. 
 
 Or gaze at something else afar. 
 
 Or nothing in particular. 
 
 A bit of pigment rightly laid 
 
 On canvas all the difference made. 
 
3 2 Eyes, 
 
 But hence has grown a later thought : 
 
 If the mere semblance so has wrought, 
 
 What may the living organ do, 
 
 With thought and feeling shining through, 
 
 Leveled as with the steady aim 
 
 Of marksman fixed upon his game ? 
 
 A hunter's eye can keep at bay, 
 
 'Tis said, the fiercest beast of prey ; 
 
 Imperial eyes in awe have held 
 
 As savage men, and tumults quelled ; 
 
 Guilt stands abashed before the eyes 
 
 That seem to pierce through all disguise ; 
 
 Rollicking eyes the pulses stir 
 
 Like sounds of dance and dulcimer ; 
 
 The pensive haunt us like a strain 
 
 Of music we would hear again ; 
 
 Weird eyes there are that have a spell 
 
 At once to lure us and repel. 
 
 Embrasures all through which wx hail 
 
 Each other, or perchance assail ; 
 
Eyes. 33 
 
 Whence nature darts her signal rays, 
 
 And light, and sometimes lightning plays. 
 
 'Twould seem a mystic current flows 
 
 Through airy circuits nature knows 
 
 From eye to eye. Who has not heard 
 
 How helpless yields the unwary bird, 
 
 As if transfixed by vital rays. 
 
 Before the serpent's glittering gaze ? 
 
 And does not Holy Scripture tell 
 
 How Eve, yet more unv/ary, fell 
 
 By a like tempter's subtler art. 
 
 Whose eyes, we doubt not, played their part ? 
 
 Then on her lord she used her own. 
 
 As her fair daughters since have done, 
 
 Whose ambushed orbs of hazel, blue, 
 
 Or gray, or ever varying hue. 
 
 Opening their fringed lids do ply 
 
 The arrows of love's archery, 
 
 While her most w^ary sons are slain 
 
 To live a charmed life again. 
 
34 Eyes, 
 
 Who that has felt through every sense 
 The thrill of famous eloquence, 
 Would veil the eyes with rage that burn, 
 Or melt with tenderness in turn, 
 Sparkle with glee, or beam with thought 
 From heights of contemplation brought — 
 A reverent wisdom such as shone 
 In him who talked with God alone. 
 The charm we own and would not break ; 
 Our steadfast eyes responses make. 
 * The orator himself receives 
 The subtle impulses he gives : 
 With eyes enkindled and intent 
 The listener too is eloquent. 
 
 And graver, better thoughts have sprung 
 From what I saw when I was young. 
 If the mere mimic look beguiled 
 To restlessness the waking child, 
 What of that vision which enspheres 
 These lives of ours through all their years ? 
 
Eyes, 
 
 Himself unseen, yet ever nigh, 
 Shall not He see who formed the eye ? 
 Not darkness hides us, but the night, 
 As the day shineth in his sight. 
 Nor let us restless choose to shun 
 The all-seeing, ever-seeing One, 
 But rather in our utmost awe 
 Only the nearer to Him draw, 
 And, though our waiting eyes be dim, 
 Learn we to live as seeing Him. 
 
THE FAITHFUL SAYING. 
 T Tim. i. 15. 
 
 The sentence thus cited as "a faithful saying," is sup- 
 posed by some interpreters to have been one of those made 
 familiar by liturgical use in the primitive Christian assem- 
 blies. 
 
 T"N the singing and the praying 
 
 Of the ancient congregation, 
 
 There was heard the faithful saying, 
 
 Worthy of all acceptation, — 
 
 Christ Himself for sinners gave, — 
 
 Sinners Jesus came to save. 
 
 'Twas believed with thankful wonder ; 
 Harlots listened and repented, 
 
The Faithful Saying, 2>7 
 
 Publicans restored their plunder, 
 
 Even Pharisees relented, 
 Roman soldiers learned to pray, 
 Caesar's household felt its sway. 
 
 One upon a hostile mission 
 
 Heard and saw, and fell confounded, 
 Gave up all his proud ambition, 
 
 And the praise of Jesus sounded : 
 So the love that conquered Saul 
 Fired henceforth the heart of Paul. 
 
 Ever proved the saying surer 
 
 As the more they ventured on it. 
 
 Growing stronger, kinder, purer, — 
 Losing even life they won it : 
 
 Faithful was the word that fed 
 
 Hungry souls with living bread. 
 
The Faithful Saying, 
 
 Multiplied in hallowed pages, 
 
 Breathed in psalms and supplications, 
 Borne to us through all the ages, 
 
 Spread abroad through all the nations, 
 Faithful to the faithful still. 
 Lord, in US the word fulfill. 
 
DOUBTS. 
 
 Goethe is reported to have said : — " Give me the benefit of 
 your convictions, if you have any, but keep your doubts to 
 yourself, for I have enough of my own." 
 
 "DRAY tell me not of doubt on doubt, 
 
 As if it were good news you brought, 
 Some secret worth the finding out, 
 Or exploit of adventurous thought. 
 
 I, too, could question, if I would, 
 Of all things I have learned to love, 
 
 And fain would answer if I could 
 For earth below and heaven above. 
 
40 Doubts, 
 
 But not by questionings I grow, ^ 
 Nor halt and turn to mend my gait : 
 
 I live on Yes, and not on No, 
 
 I trust and love, I work and wait. 
 
 O Life and Light incarnate, still 
 Shine on o'er every troubled sea : 
 
 Thou pole-star of my thought and will 
 I doubt not Thee, I doubt not Thee 
 
LINES 
 
 UPON HEARING OF THE DEATH OF MRS. GEORGIANA M. 
 SYKES, APRIL 12, 1857. 
 
 i^HILD of genius, child of song! 
 
 Not to us thy gifts belong : 
 God endowed thee, and His own 
 God hath taken to His throne. 
 Spirit, wonderfully made ! 
 Spirit, longer hast thou stayed 
 In the frail and shattered tent 
 That was here thy tenement, — 
 Longer hast thou stayed than we 
 Dared predict or ask for thee : 
 
42 Lines. 
 
 We, who knew the ceaseless strife 
 Death has waged in thee with Hfe ; 
 We, who saw thy house of dust 
 Shaken by each passing gust, 
 Saw thee plumed as for the skies — 
 Laden with infirmities. 
 
 Winged thoughts were thine that strove 
 
 Upward, like the bird of Jove ; 
 
 Yet how often, baffled fell, 
 
 As, before the tempest's swell. 
 
 Wavering, with ruffled breast. 
 
 Sinks the bird into his nest. 
 
 Thine the subtle, fairy fancy. 
 
 As with spell of necromancy 
 
 Things of mystic shape and hue 
 
 Summoning to sudden view ; 
 
 Like a lambent flame, ascending 
 
 Still, though still with damps contending 
 
 Gilding many a clouded day 
 
 With some unexpected ray. 
 
Lines. 43 
 
 Gleaming brighter to our eye 
 For its fitful victory. 
 
 Dearer than the grace of mind, 
 
 Nimble wit, or thought refined, 
 
 Was thy heart, so pure and kind ; 
 
 True in friendship, warm in love, 
 
 Tempered rightly from above 
 
 To withstand all earthly chills, 
 
 To endure all human ills. 
 
 Thou, through every changing scene, 
 
 Constant to thy faith hast been ; 
 
 Patient in thy sharp distress, 
 
 Cheerful in thy weariness ; 
 
 Making luminous thy way 
 
 When the clouds shut out the day ; 
 
 Keeping, many an irksome night. 
 
 Trimmed thy lamp of hope, and bright ; 
 
 Clinging like a child to God 
 
 When beneath His chastening rod. 
 
44 Lines, 
 
 Whatsoever ill has tried thee, 
 
 Health and strength and^ease denied thee, 
 
 All things only purified thee. 
 
 Bearing burdens all thine own, 
 
 Thou hast borne not these alone ; 
 
 Making others still thy care, 
 
 Thou hast taught them how to bear 
 
 Every load, and made them strong 
 
 With thy counsel, prayer, and^song. 
 
 Meet it is that thou should'st sleep. 
 No more irksome vigils keep. 
 Feel no more a throb of pain, 
 Faint not, weary not again. 
 Meet it is that thou should'st rest 
 On thy loving Saviour's breast, 
 In thy Father's house on high. 
 With the kindred company ; 
 One seraphic spirit more 
 Joining all who went before ; 
 
Lines. 45 
 
 One more harper in the skies — 
 Thou at home in Paradise ! 
 
 Thou, who art so still in death, 
 Thou hast woven many a wreath 
 For the loved and sainted dead : 
 Fairer garlands crown thy head, 
 While thine own their fragrance shed 
 Through thy silent earthly home. 
 And about thy peaceful tomb. 
 We no equal tribute bring. 
 Yet, unbidden do we sing — 
 God endowed thee, and His own 
 God hath taken to His throne ! 
 
OUR SIKES AND OUR STARS 
 
 May 24, 1861. 
 
 T" COUNT the clustered stars by night, 
 
 And think of sleepers in the dust, 
 Who walked and worshiped in their light, 
 
 The fair, the brave, the wise, the just : 
 What now if tempests vex the air, 
 
 Or portents blaze athwart the sky. 
 They rest apart from fear or care, 
 
 Whose lot has been, ere this, to die. 
 
 I count my country's stars by day, — 
 The old thirteen that in the dawn 
 
Our Sires a7id Our Stars, 47 
 
 Together sang our freedom's lay, 
 
 And later orbs that crowned the morn : 
 
 And I bethink me of the dead 
 
 Who reared, or loved, this spangled dome ; 
 
 The sires who thought and strove and bled. 
 Their sons who here have found a home. 
 
 They rest in peace ! Not theirs the shame 
 
 Or grief, to-day, to see one star 
 In maddened flight, with lurid flame, 
 
 Shoot from its primal sphere afar. 
 And sister stars in league astray 
 
 Bedimmed and stained, with flickering fire. 
 Or reeling on their fitful way 
 
 With lowering clouds and tumult dire. 
 
 O God of order, freedom, right ! 
 
 Thy cause maintain. Thy servants own : 
 In darkness say, ^' Let there be light ; " 
 
 The ancient law and faith enthrone : 
 
48 Our Sires and Our Stars, 
 
 Quench treason's fire and faction's rage, 
 Our injured banner rear on high ; 
 
 Redeem from shame our heritage, — 
 Be Thou the Day-star in our sky I 
 
JOHN THE BAPTIST REDIVIVUS. 
 
 Luke iii. 10-14. 
 
 TT happened, or I dreamed, that John 
 
 The Baptist visited our town, 
 And up and down our streets he went 
 With his old ringing cry, ^' Repent ! " 
 
 A man so strong and bold and queer 
 All sorts of people flocked to hear. 
 And fast as usual comments fell 
 From gaping clown and oracle. 
 
 Some sagely thought his leather dress 
 More proper for the wilderness ; 
 
50 Jolm the Baptist Redivtvus. 
 
 And some had heard, and thought it funny, 
 '' He lived on locust meat and honey." 
 
 But soon the people grew intent 
 As wondering what such preaching meant ; 
 And one, and then another, guessed 
 'Twas meant for him among the rest ; 
 
 For every word the prophet said 
 He hit some nail upon the head ; 
 And many a hearer, as he spoke, 
 Did seem to quail beneath the stroke. 
 
 Each questioner a lesson got : 
 
 The tailor, — '' See you cabbage not ; " 
 
 '' Save food and fuel," to the cook. 
 
 And to the housemaid, '' Dust the nook." 
 
 Some men of business felt a shock 
 When he discoursed of '' damaged stock," 
 
John the Baptist Redivivus. 51 
 
 Of " corners," and of '' watered shares," 
 Of " bogus mines," and '' bulls and bears." 
 
 Masons and carpenters should '' see 
 That estimates and bills agree ; " 
 '' Do well the work that lies unseen, 
 Nor mix with seasoned lumber green." 
 
 " Doctors, beware of cure or kill ; 
 Detract not from each other's skill ; 
 Your visits healthful tonics make, 
 Nor give the dose you would not take." 
 
 '' Ye lawyers, scorn with artful talk 
 To shelter rogues and justice balk ; 
 Nor term-fees swell, nor strife foment, 
 But help the poor and innocent." 
 
 *' Your sacred function, ye who preach, 
 Is not to tickle, but to teach ; 
 
52 yohn the Baptist Rediviznts, 
 
 Care more to profit than to please, 
 More for the flock than for the fleece." 
 
 Drummers and pedlars, gossips fair, 
 Tonguey exhorters, all were there. 
 And to their questions clearly rung 
 His answer, '' Bridle ye the tongue." 
 
 But when, attracted by his fame. 
 Plumbers and politicians came. 
 The prophet looked, and paused, and then — 
 Betook him to the woods again. 
 
A DREAM. 
 
 .... When our minds, more wanderers from the flesh 
 And less by thought restrained, are as 'twere full 
 Of holy divination in their dreams. 
 
 Carey's Dante, Ptirg. Canto g. 
 
 "XTOTHING would I despise, nothing forget, 
 Of goodness or of beauty once revealed, 
 Whether in outward form incarnate seen 
 By waking sense, or to my waking thought 
 Shown in a phantom. Though I only dream. 
 The goodness and the beauty I will hold 
 Not more unreal than the dreaming mind ; 
 And all the love and the delightsome awe 
 That in my heart attend them, are a pledge 
 
54 ^ D 7' earn. 
 
 Of their true presence, as content assures 
 Him that was hungry of a timely meal. 
 Not all the outward world beneath the heavens 
 Can a more perfect loveliness disclose 
 Than our own inner world by Him imprinted, 
 Of whom, as day to day is uttering speech. 
 So night to night shows knowledge. 
 
 I remember 
 A dream of boyhood I would fain renew. 
 Which yet no wish nor spell of later years 
 Can summon back, nor words nor colors paint. 
 If now, with reverent, unambitious aim 
 I may to friendly eyes some glimpse afford 
 Of that dear vision, I essay no more. 
 
 I fell asleep while yet I seemed awake, 
 (So lightly dwelt my spirit in its frame, 
 So lightly pressed my frame upon the bed). 
 In the first chamber that I called my own 
 Beneath my father's roof. There at my feet 
 
A Dream. 55 
 
 A closet stood where sometimes prayer was 
 
 made. 
 A sudden jarring sound fell on my ear, 
 As of the door sprung open, and I turned 
 Thither, or seemed to turn, with open eyes. 
 Forth from the threshold one advanced with 
 
 step 
 Stately, yet gentle, as if wafted on. 
 Like a white-bosom'd cloud, by upper airs. 
 A rustling robe I heard, yet was he clothed 
 With light that seemed in thick and wavy folds 
 Momently falling off and still renewed, — 
 As once of old a fabled goddess rose 
 Mantled and crested with the foaming sea, — 
 Or as, beneath the wintry sun, the snow 
 New fallen some fair sculptured form invests 
 With emulous wreaths, fold answering to fold. 
 I lay unnoticed, heard no voice, yet felt 
 A summons on me, as we mark the hour 
 Not knowing why, and sliding from my couch 
 
56 A Dream, 
 
 Knelt in his path. Scarce did I raise my eyes 
 
 To meet his own for sudden awe, nor since 
 
 Can I recall a semblance of his face, 
 
 Save as in broken gleams of starry light. 
 
 Charged with a woman's tenderness it seemed, 
 
 Yet of heroic majesty withal ; 
 
 Intense, yet calm, as holy martyrs are 
 
 When death is victory, the celestial bow 
 
 O'erarching earthly sorrow ere 'tis past. 
 
 As drawn to him I rose, to me he bent 
 
 With outstretched arms, and in his robe of light 
 
 I seemed to be enfolded, feeling still 
 
 No outward touch. And then — one moment 
 
 spent 
 In a strange tremulous delight — there fell 
 Words full of sweetness from his parted lips — 
 A benediction uttered in the name 
 Of the Lord Jesus ! Ere I could adore, 
 The vision fled. 
 
 O thou whom then I saw, 
 
A Dream. 57 
 
 Forgive me if unworthily I dare 
 Thy secret visitation to betray. 
 And if, awaking here, I may not see 
 The splendors which thy chosen ones beheld 
 Oh Tabor's top, yet with thyself unseen 
 Communing often in the secret place. 
 By night and day, oh, let me still abide 
 Beneath thine eye, encircled by thine arms. 
 And when through ail the chambers of the dead 
 Thy coming sounds, and I shall dream no more, 
 Nor sleep — in that new world where is no night. 
 Thy ceaseless benediction may I hear. 
 And, being like thee, see thee as thou art. 
 
THE CHANGE. 
 
 "TT^ROM earth to heaven — perchance so great 
 
 a change, 
 Perchance so Httle, yet so wondrous strange — 
 It stirs the question in a thoughtful mind, 
 What take we with us, and what leave behind ? 
 
 I have a friend, a suffering, patient friend, 
 
 Of whom 'tis said that when he meets his end. 
 
 To be an angel in another sphere 
 
 He only needs to leave his asthma here. 
 
 Thanks if the pain or grief, the toil or care, 
 We suffer now we need not always bear ; 
 
The Change. 59 
 
 And warmer thanks if nothing else be found 
 With us, that may not pass the mystic bound. 
 
 But what if uncongenial souls there be 
 
 Who even if from earthly burdens free, 
 
 When they at length would go beyond, shall 
 
 find 
 Alas, that they must leave themselves behind ! 
 
THE NEW EARTH. 
 
 npHERE never was a land so fair 
 
 As that our Father will prepare 
 For those who here in patience bear 
 
 And do His will, 
 Waiting on Him with song and prayer 
 
 Through good and ill. 
 
 '' A better country," we are told 
 
 By those who sought and sung of old, 
 
 And yet 'tis not its streets of gold. 
 
 Nor jeweled wall. 
 Nor gates of pearl I would behold, 
 
 If these were all. 
 
The New Earth. 6t 
 
 'Twill be the same old earth, but new ; 
 With fruits and flowers of every hue, 
 Groves such as once in Eden grew, 
 
 Valleys and hills, 
 Sunshine and balmy air and dew, 
 
 And purest rills. 
 
 And dear old melodies, as here, 
 Will fall upon the listening ear. 
 And human voices sweet and clear 
 
 Be heard again. 
 And dear old friends with hearty cheer 
 
 Will greet us then. 
 
 And One I have not seen, yet know. 
 Whose words and acts have charmed me so 
 It would be Heaven where'er I go 
 
 His face to see, 
 His voice to hear, — Himself will show 
 
 And talk with me. 
 
62 The New Eai^th. 
 
 There to be His immortal guest, 
 And go and come at His behest, 
 And in His presence work and rest 
 
 Whom I adore, 
 Will make the " better country " best : 
 
 I ask no more. 
 
■fTr^i/f rCTf 
 

 ^^»