. - __^ — LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. i UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. e^<^ f U' ^eme^' WM ^:m^ ^ 1. ^Yf WAS sioging a low sad dirge, 31c For the world that around me laj' I With its waves of sorrow, surge ou surge Breaking by night and da}- : When a Presence by mine ear Broke the sadness of ray song, Saying, " Sing again a tune of Cheer For a world that shall know no wrong." ^ 7^0 few vex ..0-:^^o<>,. WEST POLAND, MAINE PUBLISHED BY THE AUTHOR 1891 Copyright, 1891 Bt J. ALBERT LlBBYo CONTENTS. History and Hope 7 The Fishers 15 The Same Jesus 17 The Burden Lifter 18 All of Him 20 Voices of Life 20 Contentment is Happiness 28 " We'er all at Hame " 31 The Old Door Sill 33 Paths 35 The Beautiful Hand 36 Old Brother Steadfast 38 So Many Things 50 Do 51 Build Well 52 Zeal 53 Be Yourself 54 True Greatness 55 Ye May Do Uocd 56 How Will it Be 57 The Wealth of Years 5 8 Forethought 59 Earth's Emptiness , 60 Out of Tune 61 He Knows the Rest 63 The Country Preacher 64 A Blissful Vision 66 Hope's Vision 72 " I Say Unto all, Watch " 73 The Watcher 74 Just Before 76 Near Home's Gate 77 Homesick 78 The "Better Country " 79 Time's Way 81 At First— At Last 82 The End of Years 83 The Boat Adrift 84 Gone 87 Grief 88 Bennie D 90 Contrasts ■■ ^^ March 92 3 4 CONTENTS Summer Time S3 June i 93 Dying Summer 94 Why Summer Goes Away 95 Late November 95 Winter 96 Lone Pine 97 Life's Seasons 99 The Leaf 100 Hills, Vales, and Lakes 102 Flattered, and Fooled 105 The Snare 107 You Will For Me 109 The Road to Ruin 109 George Harvey Ill The Talking Frogs 112 Home Thrusts 113 The Tearful Waif 114 Abraham Liucoln 116 Gough 117 Garfield 118 Longfellow 119 Two Sonnets 120 John Holden 121 Our Years 124 Fast Asleep 126 At Twenty-One 126 The Broken Nest 128 The Knitting Work 129 Life's Uncertainty 130 Gone Before 131 The Unanswered Knock 132 Morning 133 The Broken Roof 134 Victory 136 The Two Travellers 136 Hearing of Pardon 137 In Time of Need 139 Sometime, Somewhere 139 The Eternal Protection 140 The Angels Near Us 141 If Faith and Hope Were Dead 142 Grace 144 Spaces 145 Dust on My Glasses 146 CONTENTS 5 Life's Common Ways 148 If He Would Come 149 Another Day 151 The Age to Come 152 What lias Been, May be Again 153 An Endless Summer Time 154 All Things New 155 Not Yet 156 Questions 158 Nothing Immortal Under These Skies 160 Life's Value 161 The Life Will Tell 162 Seeking For a Man 163 Our Busy Devil 165 Your Mission 166 How to Teach 168 Genesis 170 Earth's Gloomiest Day 171 Wayward Peter, 173 For Our Profit 174 Heavenly Pastures 176 I Know My Sheep 178 The Returning King 179 A Glance Prophetic 180 Lift Up Your Heads 182 Musings 183 Restitution 184 Time's Evening Hours 185 Transitives 186 At Last at Home 188 King Death • 190 Resorgemus 191 Death's Victor 192 " They ShallHear His Voice " 192 A Smile 195 So Much 196 Above All 197 Lines For My Mary 198 «• I am Going, Rain or Shine " 199 Early Gone 200 « O, For a Well Tuned Harp " 201 A Lesson 202 Smiles 20o Our Mother 204 Eyes 206 Pondy Poland 207 Lti)1-o^r5:;::;:::;:::;-:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::;:::^ 3iiEMiiiiifflii To the loving remembrance of my dear ones gone, who wait with me, reunion beyond the resurrection — To my wife and only son, with whom my home is made pleasant — To my sisters and brothers, once all together in the old hill-side house, but now divided — To my brethren iii the divine ministry of Him who is our present, and eternal Saviour — To the many dear ones to whom I myself have ministered in the word — To all the children who have, and would let me put my arms about them, as if they were my own ; yea, to all into whose hands this book may go, I ded- icate these songs of manyyears. J. Albert Libby, West Poland, i8qi. Maine. HISTORY AND HOPE. ER history's sea with Hope we stay our souls As anchored ships are held the waves between, Waiting for brighter days that may be seen While present peril all about them rolls ; The heavens are black, and Death hides in the clouds With threatening wing to drop upon them all — Their crews have passed to calms with tattered shrouds. And trust disaster may not soon befall. Here o'er this waste of earth's eventful years Our fathers, and ourselves have hither come ; Battled by storms, and driven from reaching home, Though we have looked that way so oft through tears ; The past returns to present strife meanwhile. With long lost pleasures of our sunny days When faces touched each other through a smile, And hearts were thrilled with love in dear old ways. 8 POEMS Play-grounds grow green again in memory's view — Paths flash to sight, well worn by flying feet, And playmates come we cannot really meet — With rocks, and brooks, and trees that once we knew^ Our little days of time, we own how strange — How strange the difl"erent years we reckon o'er; Some dark as night, with slow, or sudden change When shadows crossed the threshold of the door. Faces that hang in frames, our rooms around, Or old, or young bring pain and gladness too ; How thin the shapes past light hath left in view Of those we loved who went beneath the ground ; The wrinkled pictures bear the history lines Of toil, and care, our parents have gone through ; We trace them over with reflective minds, And say, your paths meandering we pursue. So brows are smooth behind the mocking glass, And eyes with youthful fire still all aglow — What hopes, what loves, what joys were smitten low We muse with long slow thoughts, alas, alas ! Into our lives their lives were woven strong, The old and young, and while we live will stay — Their words are in our ears, and on our tongue — For love and memory hold them all the way. So hath it been with others as with us Since the first Two beheld a young, new world, When sin apart from God His children hurled, And marred creation's beauty with the curse. HISTORY AND HOPE The winds of Eden have borne far the wail Of man's mistake, and sorrow for the same, While added cries have loaded every gale For ruin wrought on what was not to blame. Poor Earth ! Age-struck and saddened, Six thousand years away From that bright morn which gladdened With joy thy natal day ; I now for thee remember. How quickly thy December — Because of evil maddened, — Blighted thy blooms of May. Alas ! beneath thy bowers, Unkept by echoing glade, Red-life despoiled thy flowers, And grief her wailings made ; Whereby thy breast was torn For him the Two did mourn ; Bereavement brought her hours — And they, alas ! have stayed. Ah ! since thy sad disaster, What worrying ills have come ! Each striving to be master In hurrying on thy doom. All elements awaking Above, and in their shaking Increasing, seem the faster To fit thee for thy tomb. lO POEAiS Thy heavens above ! what aileth ? Ten thousand voices cry. For fear each bosom faileth, Why dash the seas so high ? Plagues, wars, their desolation Bestrew through every nation — Wreck everything assaileth ; We know the end is nigh. Go to thy grave of burning, Earth ! for a litde while — God, who hath heard thy groaning. Hath for thy face a smile ; Thy curse He melts away, In this all-cleansing day — Here end thy years of mourning, And here shall end the vile. Ay ! and thy last adorning. In fairest robes, will stay — Ay ! and thy second morning Will rise to perfect day ; Christ-Adam on the throne. Shall never lose his own, Thy sod to Death ne'er turning : Joy hath eternal sway. Could God in justice turn upon his work — Could his great mercy leave to death alone- Those put in trial's way, and not atone, Since a foul tempter too, abroad did lurk, HISTORY AND HOPE Could love forget his children gone astray And grant no token that his heart was warm ? Hark, voices many from the past cry nay ! And bows of hope bend after every storm. Suffering from Heaven met suffering here below — A sinless one came forth from God, and died ; And on the cross where he was crucified He did forgiveness plead and pardon show. Him, centuries before, the world had known — Hope's brightening way, and Heaven's evolving plan By type from Abel onward to atone. Till Pilate cried for truth " Behold the Man." Sweet echo of a voice from better lips, His great Forerunner did the shout begin, "Behold the Lamb of God " who takes the sin Of earth away, yet who rejects him, dips His hands in blood no water bath can clean ; This is man's part to own the sacrifice And keep him ever, God and earth between — So, pardon falleth on us from the skies. But after death— Siher Christ's death as well, A voice is heard which long had asked before — Who shall roll back the stone that makes the door To shut the dead of sea and earth in Hell? Heaven never leaves good travellers half way home ! So, though from cross to tomb the Christ they bore- Angels came near to watch his sleeping room. Till he should live again to die no more. 12 POEMS I was reading just now of the morning When the door of Christ's tomb stood so fast, And I saw in the glint of the dawning The forms of tlie soldiers go past — While o'er the huge rock for an awning, Thick vines their black shadows had cast. I watched till the hill tops were lighted, And the valley was filling with day ; All at once the armed men were affrighted — Fell, rose, and were hasting away ; And I saw what with fear they had sighted Was an angel in awful array ; He stood midst a halo of splendor — Through the shadows his countenance shone, And with hands full of strength, yet so tender, He whirled back the sepulchre stone — His errand such service to render, And he stood there no longer alone. The mantle of darkness was sundered — The sleep long prophetic was broke, And nature smiled gladly, and wondered With joy as the Jesus awoke ; For the cold key of Death he had plundered. And conquered the grave with a stroke. Some women with grief covered faces Were seeking the place of the dead I Now closer with slow moving paces HISTORY AND HOPE 1 3 An angel their inquiry led — Then spake as he showed Death's last traces — " He is risen again as he said." Time's bright beginnings float the far ages through On history's page as Heaven to earth has told Of the first days when orbs like minted gold Were sent to shine in spaces clear and blue ; When everything below — pure, fair, and young — Gave smile for smile to sun, and moon, and stars ; Aye ! then their brightness hymns of morning sung, And angel shouts chimed with the music bars. This other morn, when the black tomb was spoiled Brought the occasion for a loftier strain — As great rehef brings joy after long pain, And gain is reached for which a soul has toiled. Suspense and silence — fear and flickering hope Like cloudy sunshine over all had hung So long, that few for better things looked up, And oft on these were disappointments flung. Time's lessons were mused over till they seemed To aggregate too much for men to bear, And eyes had searched to see if anywhere Hope might take heart that things Could be redeemed ; Now is the garden found where grows the balm To heal the ugliest wound that Death can make ; And from this garden settles down a calm, That coming storms of Earth nor Hell can shake. 14 POEMS Hewalketh here, who had his visage marred — One bruised with awful usage, yet we see He bears the pledges of great victory Beyond the memories of a conflict hard ; Behold the chain he swingeth from his arm ! His girdle holds the key he seized below ; With this he will the gates of Hades storm — With that at length will bind man's cruel foe. Thus, treasures lost are kept in safety now, Because his love, his hand, and purpose sure — Will find them for us to again restore Without the touch of Death on cheek or brow ; He only waits till mercy's day is spent — Till rebels bolder grow who him despise — Then shall he tread the path o'er which he went Along in glory the unfolding skies. Come thou, O Christ, thine loyal urge their plea ! O'er falling Thrones of earth erect thy throne ; Bring in as subjects of thy reign thine own. So shall we share the joy with them and thee. The Faith that owns that thou didst die, and rise ; That thou didst pass to Heaven the very same. Looks on thy promises with gladdening eyes, And, in their sweet fulfilment holds a claim. THE FISHERS. FISHERMEN seven from Galilee Hi Launch their boat on the twilight sea, And into the deep they drop the net Not forgetting the trade that let Each of these fishers a living get Out of the fruitful sea. Seven disciples from Galilee Sad of heart in their misery, Think for awhile their grief to drown Getting away from the lonesome town, With the charming net they now let down Into the joyful sea. Simon Peter is here, the bold ! And Thomas Didymus calm and cold ; Nathaniel of Cana in Galilee, As also the sons of Zebedee, With other names unknown to me Because they are not told. The evening hours pass away — Back, and forth the hand-ropes sway, Till faces meet in strange surprise O'er an empty net as each night watch flies, And morning breaks from the eastern skies Over the sea to play. 15 1 6 POEMS All at once a stranger stands Just away on the level sands, Hailing the ship with a voice so sweet — To ask if the net has caught them meat. With nay for an answer his ears to greet, Resting their weary hands. "Throw it in on the other side," Sounds his voice o'er the shimmering tide ! Now, quickly flung to the chasm deep Along the rail the thrilled ones sweep The net, while the fishes dart and leap, And within its meshes glide. "That is the Lord ! " said sweet-souled John, Fixing his eyes the shore upon ; When Peter, catching his fishing coat, Left the net, and out of the boat Threw himself like a bird to float, To meet the deserted one. Others came on a little ship, Happy in heart, though dumb of lip ; Dragging the fishes so gladly snared To find the food by the Lord prepared. And learn how much for his own he cared. Though his tongue was a loving whip. Then seven fishers up from the sea Backward went to their Galilee ; And we learn of these fishers again, but then The new commission was. Catch me Men ! And they did, as we will, till our net again Is dragged from the world's great sea. ■ THE SAME JESUS. [HRIST is just the same in heaven — All my heart is glad for this ; Though the holy angels throng him, And their home hath naught but bliss — - Just the same amid their wonder, And the happy strains of joy ; While the memory-thoughts of ages Ever must his soul employ. Thoughts of childhood in Judei — Early loves that with him played ; Walks along the hills and valleys — Pleasant places where he stayed ; Faces fond, and voices thrilling — Friends who leaned above his heart, Whom he so well sought to comfort When the day drew near to part. Thoughts of sorrows, heart- deep sorrow None had ever known before — That, our burden — grief for all men. On his shoulder he upbore ; Ties were knit by years of anguish — Blood-bought mortals nearer seem — Helpless earth held fast his pity. Given in wakeful hours, and dream. 17 1 8 POEMS Hath he now beyond the cloud-gates Turned his heart from time away? Is Gethsemane forgotten, And Mount Calvary's gloomy day ? And the garden's lonely prison, Rock-encircled — made secure ; Doth he not so long remember How he burst the heavy door? All the past, and all the future. As of old he knew — he knows ; And the grand results are measured To be born of all his woes ; — Glorious Christ ! On earth in heaven — Nought from thee thy plan can sever ; Earth's and man's almighty Savior, Yesterday, to-day, forever. THE BURDEN LIFTER. 'HERE shall I put my burden 6 I have carried so long and far? While nobody seems to rest me, Though about me the many are ; It lieth so hard within me My heart is crushed with the load ; i feel if I cannot loose it, I shall die along the road ; THE BURDEN LIFTER I9 But, a sweet-faced woman told me If I would fall on my knees, And call on the name of Jesus That he would my heart release — She said it was sin about me That seemed so heavy and sad — And I know that she told me truly, For I had been awful bad ; And she tells me of another Who has come to me unseen, 'Tis he who convinced my conscience What a sinner I have been, And made me feel this burden — But I will not keep it long, For the friend who whispered to me Says he has a shoulder strong : And that he would go right with me All my journey, and I might Cast all my burdens on him, And myself go free, and light ; Now, I am going to do it. As I know 'twould change my road — And, here now, I fall before him — Dear Lord Jesus take my load. ALL OF HIM. Wji COULD not say if I should pass the portal ^P Thatleaves behind my back the world's great night, To gaze upon the other home immortal Baptized with love and light ; That I have come alone to these fair places — That I have searched them out, and come alone ; My wisdom — yea, and all my native graces — Be dumb before his throne. But, I would say my Savior's wisdom sought me, And I would say, my Savior's love was mine ; That by his hps divinely touched, he taught me The path to life divine : And, I would say if Death hath held me sleeping, I could not lift my head from out the grave ; Still, all the time I rested in the keeping Of him who came to save. VOICES OF LIFE. Bead on the Eve. of Oct. 25, 1880, to a large circle of Friends^ met to celebrate the 84:th, birthday of my father, Rev. James Libby, of Poland, Me. |HE years have voices not their own. Filling the air from human lips ; All varied in their words and tone, From the wee child that lamb-like skips. To him who treads life's farthest verge alone. Listen, O friends, awhile, if you would hear The echoes that come ringing on my ear, VOICES OF LIFE 21 Dropping in words, as we may briefly scan The changeful stages in the hfe of man. From babyliood till ten, I hear the wail Of suffering infancy, and then the gale Of merry laughter, and uproarous shout, Sounding from school- yard all the streets about ; The gleeful scream as in a hundred plays. With tireless feet, the urchin threads his ways. From ten, to twenty, faster bounds the blood, And mirth fulness hath reached in tide a flood ; 'Tis talk, talk, talk, no matter where, or when, Nor, will the laddie wait for older men. Has anything occurred, just how he shows, For he was there, eyes, ears, and mouth, and nose ; The largest fish has been upon his hook. And the most game his trusty rifle took ; Bird-snares, and traps are much in vogue with him. He knows where pigeons perch, and muskrats swim ; The horse he drives must travel, or the whip Tingles the tender flank below the hip. School-days are happy for the stirring boy, Since, out, or indoors, he will have his joy ; Through all the study hours his eye and ear Are ape-like set, to catch him something queer. One eye he has for fun,— mischievous creature ! — The other sentinels the moving teacher : And, blundering readers, calling colt a calf. Are sure to hear all round the tittering laugh ; And, letters on the slate, once in a while With pleasure cross both ways, the middle aisle. 22 POEMS So, through a score of singular gyrations, He learns, and gets through all his recitationSo Twenty is reached, and he begins to plan, To have his coming future as a man ; His gait has settled to a sprightly walk. His wordy fun tones down to common talk ; He speaks of cottages along the street. Admires the style of this with grounds so neat. Wishes he had some land, and wants a team. Just so's to understand how it might seem, — Is often missed from home on Sunday eve. Now he can go, and come, not asking leave. Time passes on, his thrift the means has sought,— ■ The land is bargained for, the team is bought. And bolder grown, at twenty-five he'll ride With blushing beauty seated at his side. And, now the ground is broke, the cellar made. Workmen are called, each with his different tradco The cottage he for many months has planned. Stands shining like a gem upon his land. With eager hands he toils, and heart elate ; For earth is rich with spoils, and hope is great ; Ashe has prospered, and must prosper still. His joyous heart now sings, with right good will. Rejoice young man ! these are thy brightest days ; I'll find thee, by and by, in different ways. There are no sunnier joys in earthly store, Than when one finds at first his own home's door, And lights his dwelling to look into eyes That answer back to his, with love's surprise. VOICES OF LIFE 23 How white the cloth she spreads, how choice the food — How sweet the song she sings, in cheerful mood — How rankly grow the plants her hands attend — How bright the flowers that far their fragrance send ! Home has no shadow now — her smile the ray- That lights each room, through the long golden day. But, years will fleet, and in a world like this We may not hope for long continued bliss : This one bright home we watch, to speak for all, Where joys and griefs alternate rise and fall. Children are born, and thrive — ah, what a joy ! The curly headed girl, the bright eyed boy : Parents alone know what heart pleasures wake, As to their arms their own sweet babes they take. New voices ring around the hearth of home, As one by one the beauteous darlings come. The cradle hath a music all its own^ Although it runs in a low monotone. The high chair at the table hath a guest On which the eyes of all around it feast ; The room is cluttered, and all things look loose ; But " baby did it," and we must excuse. O, beauteous bush ! the midst with roses crowned; And buds of promise opening all around. But, we have said that in a world like this. We cannot hope for long continued bliss : The spoiler comes, and, with unpitying tone, Threatens to take one darling for his own, " What ! rob my household ;tear my sweet rose-tree? And bear a blushing bud away from me?" — 24 POEMS The motner cries : then takes her treasure up, ^ids fear begone, and calls for cheerful hope ; Smoothes the fair forehead, smiles by turns, and grieves. Binds up the feet and wrists with drawing leaves ; Bathes the hot temples, — kissing oft the cheek, — Chafes the round limbs, and calls for him to speak, "Say, mother's jewel ! is you better now? Take this for mamma, — make old sickness go ! " Darkens the room, hushes all playful feet, And by the crib fixes her watching seat ; Whispers to father, as he creeps along, "I think we'll save him; see !his pulse is strong." O, troubled household ! grief has come at last, — The days without a cloud are in the past ; The nights of unmolested rest are fled, — Now stands unsought the anxious parents' bed : And yet they tire not, for love forgets To eat or sleep, if watching suffering pets : And so the days go by, and night's slow hours, As if the foe to strong resistance cowers ; Till, all at once, while hope contends with doubt, He from the darkness blows the sweet life out. I need not try to picture with my pen The agony of the bereft ones then ; The talk of mother, o'er the white dead face, — The sighs of father, with each faltering pace ; Nor yet the sobs of childhood's heaving breath, — Till now but strangers to the stranger, Death. The grave door swings, and shuts, and oh, what joy Goes into darkness with that buried boy ! — VOICES OF LIFE And earth to them, so long without a blot, Seems sadly marred by this one burying spot. Sometimes they tell the mourner, that, no doubt A little while will wear these troubles out ; But he who writes these lines for you will say. The wounds may heal, but yet the scars will stay : And they who fondly o'er their dead do weep Will not forget forever where they sleep. Well, but few parents say at forty- five, "We have no graves — the flock is all alive." The King of Terrors, since the world's great fall Hath fought the race to make us mourners all ; But "sorrow not as those who have no hope" The preacher said, — and this becomes a prop. So, months go by, and the old smile appears. And crowding cares beguile th' advancing years ; The marriage- bells resound, and voices sweet Allure away from home the children's feet ; And other sadder farewell words are said. As earth's green curtain swings o'er others' dead : Till wrinkled womanhood, and failing man Are left alone, as they alone began. And yet, how different life's pathway seems — At first their future shone with golden dreams, That each new year would better things unfold Than they had shared in the receding old ; But now life's rounded hill-top lies behind, The ears grow heavy, and the eyes get blind ; The feet that strongly struck the sunny crest. Now feebly falter near the vale of rest. 25 26 POEMS Come in the evening, find them all alone ^ And, hidden, listen to their voices' tone. Hear them go back to memory's earUest days, And talk along through time's eventful ways. Now smiles enrich their faces ; then, anon. We watch a moment, and the smiles are gone. A change comes in life's story, — bend thee nigh ; See ! tears are glistening in each withered eye ; They speak of faces fair, and voices gay That from the family fold were snatched away ; Of dear old neighbors that once left the door, Saying "Good evening," — to return no more. And, then to hear them sing, — it soundeth well, — The hymn "When strangers stand and hear me tell." Or, changing, strike again so clear, and high. The tune — " Spare us, O Lord, aloud we cry ; " And so we creep away, saying, at last, " Dear aged ones ! they live along the past." Yes, they do live recounting what has been ; But, faith hath eyes to scan a future scene. And hope will follow faith with eager wings, To knit love's tendrils to celestial things. And, so they wait upon the mortal side Of death's cold river, with its murky tide ; Knowing their Joshua will lift His rod To break a pathway through the swelling flood. And, what if one be left alone to stand Trembling with age, and white-haired on the sand? Take heart at this, — the pilgrimage once o'er What joys await us on the other shore ! VOICES OF LIFE 27 What verdant trees shall grow on all the hills ! What sparkling waters flow in all the rills ! What gladsome shouts on Zion's mount shall ring To David's greater Son, and Israel's King ! What tides of health in every vein shall flow ; For every cheek and eye will be aglow ! What stores of plenty ! — see the fruitage shine On low depending limb, and climbing vine ! What raptuous songs ! no earthly choir hath known The art to reach, and touch the lowest tone ! What bonds of friendship ! never there a jar The union of the saintly ones may mar ! What more than glad surprises there to find Many on hfe's rough march we left behind ! O, resurrection faces ! how they shine, Filled with the lustre of a life divine ! Yet through the glow, the old-time smile appears, Linking the eternal now with earthly years. What perfect rest beyond time's tiresome road ! What sweet release from every wearying load ! What boundless riches ! — every saint supplied ; What depths of joy, with every tear-drop dried ! What wondrous wealth of wisdom ! — all shall know And fear the Lord, the shining heavens below ! What length of golden days there ! — o'er and o'er The ransomed sing, in throngs, "to die no more !" What restful peace where no discordant sound Disturbs through all the enchanted world around ! What love where heart with kindred heart shall blend^ With every soul we meet a constant friend I 28 POEMS What golden walks, what ever- fragrant flowers ! What happy talks in Eden's shady bowers 1 What streets of gold, what gates, what strengthful walls ! What matchless towers arise, what spacious halls ! What skies, — all storm-clouds swept away ; As fair they shine as at creation's day ! What hosts of angels passing to, and fro ; In easy ghding speed, behold them go ! And all the saints, their equals, move at pleasure, Having no wearying distance now to measure. Glory to God ! through his all-conquering Son Death dies at last, and Sin's dark reign in done ! With so much for us, why parade the charms Of this poor state, with all its rude alarms ? Let us make haste, since we so far have come ; That morn shines on us from the hills of home. CONTENTMENT IS HAPPINESS. SUGGESTED BY AN EASTERN FABLE. ^^^NCB on a time a simple quarry-man ^J Worked much, gained little, and was ill content He wished he might be rich, and live at ease ; Enwrapped in silken sheets his time be spent. And so it chanced his wish was granted him. And all encouched in softest silk he lay, fill lo ! an emperor, with a grand escort. On prancing steed, o'er shielded passed that way. CONTENTMENT IS HAPPINESS 29 What good is riches, since I've no escort. In van or rear, to guard my dangerous way ; And none to break, with golden parasol, From off my head the sun's descending ray? "Why am I not an Emperor? " And he was : His bo(1y-guard dashed up before, behind. They held above his royal head the shield. And filled each wish of his aspiring mind. But all around the ardent beams shot down ; The road grew dusty, and the quivering light. Reflected from the floor of burning sands. Mocked, and bewildered, and fatigued his sight, " O, but if one could only be the sun, To dash exhausting heat and light afar ! There is a power I envy." Have your choice, If not content with being what you are. And now a sun afar, to right and left He flung his fiery beams in reckless mirth, To blind the eyes ©f princes with his light. Or scorch the growing herbage of the earth. But soon a pitying cloud flying between Most haughtily threw cooling shadows down. "My power is broken," cried the wrathful sun, " I would I were the cloud o'er all to frown." Again came transformation very strange ; He was a cloud and threw his shadows wide. Moreover showers fell fast o'er all the land. And rivers rolled a devastating tide. 30 POEMS One only thing the cloud looked down upon — A grand old rock beside the river stood : In vain the bellowing waters beat its sides — It moveless sat and laughed at storm and flood. "Superior thing," then quoth the angry cloud, " I would I might become that mighty rock," The change was' wrought ; and soon grown proud, He feared nor stroke of sun nor torrent's shock ; But sadly saw, anon, one standing near — Though roughly clad yet with determined face — His hands were loaded with the hardest steel, To break and hew at will his firm set base. " What ! " cried the rock, " O angel of my change, To rend me mighty doth this figure plan?" The same, the angel said. So cried the rock, "Then it were better I should be that man." Have you your will, again the angel spake, O, ne'er at ease through many a changing scene ; Be thou the man the unconquered rock to break ; And he became what he at first had been, A poor stone-cutter — simple quarry-man — His work was hard, and but a little brought ; Vet he had learned, through unsuccessful change, At last to be contented with his lot. "WE'RE ALL AT HAME." |Si READ of a Scotchman, old and blind — JP A lifer once in a Highland-band ; Who crossed the ocean his son to find, And a home he hoped with his bairn so kind, Somewhere away in the Western land. His son had died, and the poor old man A refuge found in the friendly-inn ; But memory hied to his native clan. And his " mither's hame" in the Highland glen. And the players with whom he once had been. He would sit and talk through the livelong day Of scenes unknown to the others near — How he longed to*throw his line in the Tay ; And would name his kindred so far away Till the stoutest heart would break to a tear. He talked of his regiment one night As the shadows gathered o'er him deep. Of their going hame, and his face did light. To name the tunes of their joyous flight As he roused him from his sleep — " The Campbells are comin'," and old "Roy's Wife ; He seemed the band to hear, and see, And as if far off, and without his fife — He sadly sighed with a choking strife " And they'll all be there but me." 81 32 POEMS '^ How long will he last? " a young man said — ^^ He will hardly stay till the midnight hour," The doctor spake. — Then the young man led A band of players so near to his bed, That the old man heard their power — "Whaf s that ! what's that? " he quickly cried ; "'The Campbells are Comin'— Hark ! be still;" And he lifted himself to lean on his side Till they struck a strain that had satisfied; Then how did his old heart thrill — He leaped to the floor with his arms raised high, As the music clearer, and louder came — And with very joy in his soul did die As he said, in the arms of the watchers nigh. "We're all at hame ! We're all at hame ! " There are hills and vales we have longed to see — And old time faces remembered still ; We mention the names that used to be — Till the eyes grow moist with the melody Of voices mingled the heart to thrill. Oh, when the troops from the far-off sky, For the sweet home-gathering down shall come— And our death- dull ears hear the music nigh, And wake to the joy, may we soon reply, " We're all at home ; we're all at home." THE OLD DOOR-SILL. Dedicated to Frank A. Walker, of Wisconsin, in remem- brance of liis old home where we used to play. ^m^LWAYS under foot remaining, p§fe Yet with not a word complaining, ""wiiat a story it might tell — What through all its years unfolding Changeful scenes, ever beholding, Mirthful moods, and sorrow's spell ! How gay hearts have bounded o'er it, And light feet have tripped before it, When as yet the home was new ! Then dull care found not the dwelling, And no burden worth the telling Lay upon the happy two. Didst thou hear the merry laughter Fill the house from floor to rafter, When on creeping hands and knees ; Little rogue edged closely to thee, And with wonder first did view thee With so much outside to please ? But with baby joy soon over, Thou didst see the watching mother Snatch the pet from danger's brink. Smothering half his screams with kisses, And for outdoor joy he misses -' Quickly of some toy doth think. 3S 34 POEMS Not all pleasure was thy portion, For how many had the notion With their rough and snowy feet, To come down on thee with power, And through years how many an hour Thy poor form was sorely beat ! Yes, and hard thy fare for shelter, Storm, or mild, or furious pelter, Found thee always in the way ; And what must have failed to cheer thee, Was to have a door so near thee. And be forced without to stay. Thou art worn with time and friction. Hast thou stories of affliction ? Surely, long has been thy day "Yes ; the feet that travelled o'er me' Many a year, uneven wore me ; But at length they passed away. '^ Tears fell on me as we parted From a mourner, heavy-hearted. Close behind the casket home • One by one the inmates scattered, Till the house grew old and shattered. Then they left it like a tomb. " Ruin played his pranks above me, And his mighty hand did shove me From my place, and here I fell, Desolate, till you came to me, And with pity seemed to view me, Helping me my story tell." PATHS. ^^^^E cannot take our paths away ; Swlfe They linger when our feet are gone ) Bordered with green, yet trodden gray, With here and there a smoothe-worn stone, I know the ways of little feet, And those of others, older grown ; And oft, as o'er these paths I beat, I muse with wordless thoughts alone. I follow now a presence swift ; A tire is fluttering in the wind — Or gentler breezes softly lift Her curls — and I am just behind ; I hear the frolic in the laugh, And then the shouting words of glee, As, running half and halting half, The player cries, " You can't catch me ! " Sometimes I meet in memory's way The stretching hand, the glance of eyes ; My lips seem parting, as to say Some words of welcome and surprise ; Or, on my ear there sweetly fall The words of old-time tenderness ; My arms are thrilled to hear the call^ And rise all ready to caress. 35 36 POEMS Ah I how they mock me — these old ways ! And yet, I would not lose their thread ; * These hallowed paths of other days Lead from my heart out to my dead. Sleep on ! I tread where yoii have trod ; Your goal may soon arrest my feet ; Till, breaking from the tangled sod, In everlasting joy we meet. THE BEAUTIFUL HAND, ^HREE fair ones walked by a silvery streanip 'Midst the beauties of meadow-land ; And the fickle question arose, it would seem, Which owned the most beautiful hand. One dipt hers deep in the flowing brook, That, bathed in the waters so clear. Its form and its flesh so pure might look, As the lovliest far to appear. One plucked the strawberry — choicest fruit. Till her finger tips were pink ; And held the stems from the broken root, As sure of the prize, to think. The other gathered the violets sweet, Till the fragrance , and color, too. Filled her hand with a grace complet And hers was the choice, she knew THE BEAUTIFUL HAND 37 A beggar-woman was passing by, Seeking her gifts of all — But the three did the homely dame deny, Who asked for a favor small. A damsel near, with her unwashed hands, And empty of flowers and fruit, — Answered the pitiful one's demands With a pittance for her suit. Then the old dame asked, ^^ Why thus contend?" And their beautiful hands they raised ; And told her she the dispute might end. Each hoping to be praised. ^'They are beautiful all, indeed," she spake ; But they pressed her still to tell Which of the hands the praise must take As in. beauty to exceL **^Not the hand of the brook so clean, Nor the one so tipped with red — Nor the fingers that violets lie between, Is the beautiful hand," she said,— "But the hand that giveth to the poor Is the fairest of them all ; " Then an angel's face they stood before. And her staff away did falL OLD BROTHER STEADFAST. The Church at Icy-Gleii, was for a long time in a deplora- ble condition; and the trouble was just this: — A few head- strong, worldly minded members were bound to control the whole arrangement; and the minister himself was somewhat under their inllucnce, though he had groanings of heart over the way things went, and could but laugh inside for joy, and outside, too, a little, when with the true ones of his flock, as the following poem appeared in the local paper: CAUSE AND CURE. THAT'S the matter with our church? We are all confounded — - Things have taken such a lurch, Every saint is wounded. If wc had some prophet near, To tell us how to manage, Who could see the future clear, We might repair the damage. Ah ! this is the sore lament Of many a congregation, And I will be that seer sent To give the explanation. Such churches need no prophef s eye Their future course pursuing— The past he only need descry, To find the cause of ruin. S8 OLD BROTHER STEADFAST 39 The future will provide the cure In such a joyous ending, If now the evils they endure They set about the mending. Let Judas go who holds the purse, And covets all that's in it ; He is a traitor and a curse I would not trust a minute. And Diotrephes long has thought Himself above all others — His place, with brass and money sought, He leads among the brothers. And Demas if he goes to church. Is out against the preacher, And there are those who place their perch Around the worldly creature. And Mrs. Toss-Her-Head is there, Who wears the gayest bonnet ; Is she a member — I declare All eyes are fixed upon it. And money goes with lavish hands To ape the latest fashion — Flowers and ribbons, puffs and bands. Engross the worldly passion. O church of Christ ! break from your foes, Fall on your knees confessing ; If Judas to the halter goes, Christ will command his blessing. 4© POEMS Cry out till worldly ones depart, Or else repenting, praying, Unite with brokenness of heart, The Lord's commands obeying. Have from your alters daily rise, In holy consecration, The incense of sweet sacrifice — Your bodies the oblation. So will the Spirit then abide Within the temple holy, And Christ will own in love his bride, Walking with him so lowly. Why, what a stir this poem made! the Judas of the church didn't hang himself, hut he hung up his Sunday hat at home: one of the church-killers sold out and went away, and a good revival after a little while boiled off much of the scum. Just by the foot of the hill at the end of Icy-Glen, a neat little cottage stood on a small farm. The owner of which not liking the turn things took, offered to sell out to a stranger passing that way, who stayed to bait his team. The bar- gain was closed, and in a few weeks the home had changed families. Now said the new comer, as the old tenant was about to depart, I must have a deed of your church pew, "for I al'ays go to meetin' storm or shine," and my oood pastor has come to call me "Old brother Steadfast; " but I don't care for that — lam rooted and grounded \n the Chris- tian faith; "An' I wouldn't p;iv' two cents for this airth only to stay on, and sleep in, till we come to the better land." So it was soon noised all about the neighborhood, that an Old Mr. Steadfast had bought the farm over the brook. And he began from his new home to go to meeting as he had al- ways done from his old. So a few weeks after his arrival his minister approached him thus: — Well, I am glad to find you, Brother S., Filling your place in church this stormy day. OLD BROTHER STEADFAST 4 1 You are indeed "Old Steadfast," I confess, And put to shame the younger just away. It's two good miles at least that you have come, With all the way on foot this wind to press. And more than twenty live this side your home That nothing would bring out but some distress — Sunday I mean — week-days 'tis different though — They go and come on business — here and there. With no let up for either wind or snow, And women do not wait to have it fair. I know it, Pastor. You hav' said it right— A meetin' an' the world are diff'rent things ; Them little pocket gods are kept in sight By pullin' jest apart the pusses' strings. An' there be other such-like-gods astray ; An' lots o' members in our church, I think, Don't mind a ride out on a stormy day If they can bag 'em with their other chink. Jest let th' people know aroun' this town Each 'on 'em could hav' ten dimes by comin' here, You'd larn the gods they worship are all down. And sarved in stormy days as well as clear. You call me "Steadfast." Wall, I've had this rule I larned long, long ago from God's good word — It reads, " be steadfast, and not movable. For not in vain's your sarvice in the Lord." Now this " Old Brother Steadfast" was none of your lazy, Christians I'll assure you; he would down on his knees, and pray till every corner of the house was searched with his persuasive words. Nor did he wait to be asked " if he hadn't a few thoughts to express for the Master." He would up and 42 POEMS at it, his full soul like a pent up spring of water, pouring out its streams of salvation; for Jwiva.s saved from the top of his bare head to the soles of liis feet; and if he did speak his words the shortest way nobody cared, as he had enough of them, and his thoughts were splendid. The pastor grew more and more hopeful in every meeting, and began to look upon "Brother Steadfast" as a Godsend, and so expressed — If I had twenty like you, Brother S., In every social meetmg that we hold, Our gospel work would be a grand success In this old town, with unbelief so bold. I am so glad you moved among our folks ! My hopes have been increasing since you came ; I notice that you neither drive nor coax, But kindle hearts with all your words aflame. Yea, my discouraged soul I freely own Has felt the throbbings of your earnest heart ; Your tears are watering seed I long have sown, And my dry eyes have felt the moisture start. Well, well, my Pastor, *'deem me not unkind," Pardon the use of this lamed phrase I've heard — If I give you a bit of my old mind. An' preach in privat' what my soul has stir'd. You tell o' twenty — bless ye ! three good sticks Aglow with coals '11 start up quite a fire, An' once a burnin' other wood we mix To mak' it flam' an' grow higher an' higher. I al'ays act on heaven's principle When I get into meetin' with a few ; An' sence I com' here, I still use this rule, An' hav' been reck'ning Sister Brown an' you. OLD BROTHER STEADFAST 43 But I confess the fire seemed nighly gone, An' i was humsick for a time at fust, Until I found you two with me hitched on, Then my old heart ahuost with gladness bust. "Where two or three," you know the Savior said. Get in tergether, meetin' in his name — " There I am in the midst" — I heard it read ; That's what, my pastor, kindles up the flame. Now do not wait, dear man, for Squire B. To get his place in his soft cushioned pew ; Or Uncle Joe, so rich — but come with me Thro' rain, or shine, an' I will be with you : An' we can al'ays reckon Sister Brown, An' al'ays reckon on the Lord ; you know We three with him can fire up this town, Settin' the dead-wood of your church aglow. The timely advice is taken, and a series of meetings plamied, during which when lield, Icy-Glen gets tliorouglily tliawed out, and for a few weeks men little cared wlietlier the Spring's wood was cut, or not; and the sisters put off making soap, for they said, we can afford to wait, we are getting such an effec- tual cleaning up spiritually. Converts were many, and everybody loved Old Brother Steadfast; but love with flattering words had no effect to in- jure the dear " old soul." The minister also, rejoicing said: Thank God, my brother, that you came to town. And came to our church when we were dead ; You, in your homely talk, melted us down With but the simple words you always said. Thank God ! I will for your plain words to me, For your advice just what we ought to do j Our church is all revived, we gladly see, And converts are among us not a feWo 44 POEMS Now I want you, when I this flock baptize, To bring them to the altar every one ; I know 'twill fill with gladness your old eyes To see them take this other step right on. *' Dear pastor, in this sarvice your intendin' You'll have to me excuse from out'n your plan ; The reason why, if it won't be offendin' — In short, I'll try to hav' you understan'. I b'Ueve in goin' clean down under water, As Jesus sot th' example when with John. What crowds onto th' river bank did lo'ter, To see the dove light down his head upon. To bury folks is jest a clear reflection Of what was preached by Jesus and Saint Paul, An' shows by act th' blessed resurrection ; Else why, Paul asks, are folks baptized at all. You know Paul writ th' Romans they were planted. Who ever sprinkles corn to make it grow? If you'll baptize as Paul an' Jesus wanted, I'll bring th' convarts to ye in a row. An' if you'll take two weeks for careful study. Then own things as they used to 'arly be, You'll be immarsed yerself. Then, ' Everybody,' You'll say, *come down an' be baptized like me.' " !N'ow comes the tug of war Avitli the young minister, not that the converts were to be divided, for his was the only church at Icy-Glen; but he was a sprinkler— yet, honestly so, since he had not studied to know the most perfect way: and the old brother liad piled so many ISTew Testament texts be- fore his eyes, that for a little while he knew hardly what to do. But throui^h them he ^oes, in Greek, En