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THE MORNING STAR 
 
THE MORNING STAR 
 
 A POEM 
 
 BY 
 
 / 
 
 EDWARD RYDER 
 
 5^ 
 
 NEW YORK 
 PUBLISHED FOR THE AUTHOR BY 
 
 G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS 
 
 182 Fifth Avenue 
 1878 
 

 Copyright by 
 EDWARD RYDER 
 
 187S 
 
THE MORNING STAR 
 
 AS a Pomologist his Nursery 
 Of thorny seedlings with judicious eye 
 Surveys, electing one whereon to graft 
 Some choice Exotic, strait, with knife or saw, 
 Close to the ground, severs the polished stem 
 And lays the native crown with all its buds 
 To wither like life's morning dreams, anon 
 Splits the complaining stump and there inserts 
 A Scion, severed from its native tree 
 And clime, but holding fast its proper life, 
 Closes" with balm the wounds, and bids the root 
 Regenerate, so from destruction saved, 
 Transmute its spirituous energies to feed 
 The renovating germ, till, in due time. 
 In steadfast wedlock knit, the double tree, 
 Spreading new leaf and bloom, unto the hand 
 
6 THE MORNING STAR. 
 
 Of its approving lord the golden fruit 
 
 Tenders, most pleasing to his taste — so God 
 
 This sour, degenerate World grafted with Christ. 
 
 From many nations one of purest root 
 
 He chose, (from worlds perhaps the one most fair 
 
 And meet to be the womb of spirit life 
 
 That should flow forth and people sister orbs,) 
 
 Nourished it long, pruned it with patient care, 
 
 And as hope's fairest buds began to swell, 
 
 Smote off with Roman sword its native crown. 
 
 And in the bleeding stock of empire set 
 
 The Branch of Life's immortal Tree in Heaven. 
 
 Ere long the Gospel Scion spread abroad 
 
 In twelve coordinate limbs which, with new shoots 
 
 Adorned, like honorable setting found 
 
 Upon the savage nations, thus from clime 
 
 To clime expanding and yet more to spread, 
 
 Until the ransomed Earth, blushing at last 
 
 With tints of Paradise, shall offer up. 
 
 On all her friendly interlacing boughs. 
 
 The fruit of Perfect Manhood unto God. 
 
 All men are units of one greater Man, 
 
 Mankind, — the sentient corpuscles that form 
 
 The mystic body of Hiimanity. 
 
 They are the leaves which rustle on Time's boughs, 
 
 Flung off as generations fade. But lo ! 
 
 Not all the leaf decays ; the better part, 
 
 If summer were not idly spent, remains. 
 
 In frost-defying buds whose vital store 
 
THE MORNING STAR. 
 
 The industrious leaf all summer has laid by, 
 From sun and earth and the soft-breathing winds, 
 To form a branch of life's interior frame. 
 
 He that has read the story of a leaf 
 
 Has read the story of the Oak, and found 
 
 The golden key to Wisdom's treasury. 
 
 Strong to unlock the deep vaults of the Past 
 
 And put his wealth to use, while, at a turn. 
 
 It opens the vast manufactory 
 
 In which the busy Present weaves the robes 
 
 Of her dear child, the ever unborn Future. 
 
 Experience is the alphabet of thought ; 
 
 It is the telescope th.rough which we view 
 
 E'en Heaven, and with its kindred lights converse. 
 
 But think not, when thy glass reveals no more. 
 
 There is Truth's bound : wait till another lens 
 
 Be given thee, larger, more polished ; nay, 
 
 Add lens to lens, each broader than the last, 
 
 Till Herschel's world-creating tube shall seem 
 
 A straw, and yet will Truth show nebulous front. 
 
 So to Experience add Hope, nor deem 
 
 God's works distorted if thy glass be rough. 
 
 Nor that thy flickering taper can reveal 
 
 Life's mysteries without that heavenly Ray, 
 
 Which only can illuminate the page 
 
 Of thy brief history, or that, more large. 
 
 Of which it forms a part, the ample scroll 
 
 Of a World's chronicles, itself too small 
 
 For the Great Teacher's words — itself a page 
 
8 THE MORNING STAR. 
 
 Of the illimitable Volume where, 
 With pen and brush dipped in celestial dyes, 
 Heaven's peerless Artist labors to portray 
 The face of God's colossal loveliness, 
 Still ever breaking in more glorious smiles. 
 
 Good men are the Great Poet's capitals; 
 Each life a line of Earth's grand Epic. Some, 
 Though harsh and tuneless to man's ear, contain 
 More poesy than human wit ere wrought 
 Into the texture of its noblest songs. 
 Some are historic, some didactic, some 
 Laden with prophecy. Full many end 
 With exclamations, questions, or a da*sh ; — 
 Most have a comma, but some glide right on 
 Against the margin as if one brief line 
 Could ill-express the meaning of a life. 
 
 What to an angel's eye is human state. 
 
 And the soul of man that hasteth thus away ? 
 
 A dew-drop on a trembling blade of grass, 
 
 Or blushing petal, poised so tenderly 
 
 That a fly's wing may brush it to the ground : 
 
 Yet in its tiny orb all nature's wealth 
 
 And beauty are reflected, till it seems 
 
 Itself a universe. From Heaven's warm breast 
 
 On the soft lap of slumbering Earth distilled. 
 
 In dreams and wonderment the live-long night 
 
 It muses on the various face of being. 
 
 To honor, wealth or fame, which like the moon 
 
THE MORNING STAR. 
 
 And stars adorn its heavens, brief homage pays, 
 
 Till the ascending Sun obscures their beams, 
 
 When, fixing on its Lord adoring eyes, 
 
 It flames with Love, impatient to be free. 
 
 And melting spreads its viewless wings for Heaven. 
 
 In such a mirror, orbing gracefully 
 
 On a fair petal of the seven-leaved rose, 
 
 Our mother spread around her bounteous heart. 
 
 Has heavenly Wisdom such instruction lent 
 
 To my admiring eyes, that my fond muse, 
 
 Somewhat by partial tenderness inspired. 
 
 But zealous chiefly that a sighing World 
 
 And a disheveled Church may learn the way 
 
 To Unity and Peace, and fall in love 
 
 With Love and Charity, would fain invoke 
 
 The presence of these self-same wings of God, 
 
 To brood above her and indite a song 
 
 For Time's last days, fit for the gathering choirs 
 
 To sing in that Broad Temple unto which 
 
 The nations now are hastening, Her first fruits 
 
 Thus consecrated, He whose breath alone 
 
 Can blow our hopes to port, may deign a smile, 
 
 And bid salvation or instruction wait 
 
 Upon his humble messenger. So blessed. 
 
 Two angels fair shall steal through all the land, 
 
 And in its parlors and in its cabins cry, 
 
 " Sweet friends, the Lord has sent to bid you come 
 
 And make his arms your home : wash you therefore. 
 
 And take upon you love's white, bridal robe. 
 
lO THE MORNING STAR. 
 
 And crown your foreheads with the Morning Star, 
 And come — lo, He is even at the door ! " 
 
 Think you Heaven slept when the sly sorcerer charmed 
 
 The ear of Eve and made her breast the grave 
 
 Of Innocence and Joy, turning her forth 
 
 From ease and affluence to till her soul 
 
 In poverty and strife, for one good fruit 
 
 Bringing forth man)' empty, vain conceits, 
 
 Gendered abundantly, with travail pain. 
 
 To fill the earth with violence and woe ? 
 
 Why did not all the angels shout alarm, 
 
 And break the bold seducer's magic spell ? 
 
 Seemed it a little thing, to Him who built 
 
 Man for eternity, that he should spend 
 
 A day in strife, tumbling and sighs, to learn 
 
 What foes infest the road to happiness. 
 
 Perhaps to this rude cradle unconfined ? 
 
 A little thing, to Love omnipotent. 
 
 To recreate a blighted heart or world ? 
 
 A little thing, that billions should go out 
 
 In darkness, who might else have ever lived 
 
 Like white-robed infants in the lap of ease ? 
 
 Or, if these things be great, were it more sad 
 
 That man should never rise the goodly heights 
 
 Of moral excellence and taste the joys 
 
 Of liberty and virtue, without which 
 
 He were but a more intellectual ape ? — 
 
 And still we ask, O warning angel, why 
 
 Thou dost but whisper while temptation roars ? 
 
THE MORNING STAR. ^ 
 
 Why hides the Hght of wisdom in the grave 
 
 Before it takes the empire of the soul ? 
 
 — So we were all dumb watch-dogs, not one barked 
 
 When that sly thief Ambition stole at morn 
 
 To our Elysian fold, and with his gloss 
 
 Beguiled our happy Nymph to grasp the boughs 
 
 Of Knowledge with such idolizing greed 
 
 As broke great Nature's law, and on her head, 
 
 Instead of myrtle wreaths, an iron crown 
 
 Implanted ; so from learning's paradise 
 
 She sadly turned away, and that more fair 
 
 Of ruddy and elastic health, to search 
 
 Through desolated Eden for some balm 
 
 That could avert the fiery sword of pain. 
 
 Which kept the ways of knowledge from her feet. 
 
 Thus Nature's beauteous crown was laid in dust. 
 
 Long it refused to die, by hope sustained. 
 
 Till in its stead at length a fairer rose. 
 
 Lifting toward Heaven its ifragrant leaf and bloom, 
 
 In holier aspiration. O how sweet 
 
 Is the returning Sun when midnight storms 
 
 Have drenched the vale in tears, when drooping flowers 
 
 Hang on their broken stalks, trying to smile 
 
 In their humility ! As the warm beams 
 
 Dispel the mists and change the pendant drops 
 
 To glittering diamonds, tree, shrub, and flower 
 
 Seem vocal with angelic melodies, 
 
 Hymning the wonders of Redeeming Love, 
 
 Which out of darkness still reveals new light, 
 
12 THE MORNING STAR. 
 
 Life in the midst of death, — mourning transforms 
 To praise, and bondage into liberty ! 
 
 Behold the Fugitive from sin's dark thrall, 
 
 Long by the World enslaved, whose profitless 
 
 And rigid yoke God's hand at length has loosed, 
 
 By judgments and afflictions manifold 
 
 On the self-seeking and rebellious Heart 
 
 Oft melted in the furnace of God's wrath. 
 
 But presently as hard as penitent snow 
 
 After the sun goes down. Fast through the depths 
 
 Of Judgment's roaring sea, asunder cleft 
 
 By faith's potential Rod, his narrow path 
 
 The Pilgrim flies, pursued by Satan's hosts 
 
 And sheltered by the intervening arm 
 
 Of God's paternal providence, which sheds 
 
 Light on his pathway, but upon his foes 
 
 Disaster and confusion ! Safe at length 
 
 On mercy's banks, like one through death escaped 
 
 The pains and perils of this stormy clime, 
 
 Backward he casts a happy glance to see 
 
 The World and all its tinsel overwhelmed 
 
 In that baptismal gulf. Exultant then, 
 
 He sows the shore with melody and praise ! 
 
 A needful sabbath spent, wherein he feasts 
 On the unleavened bread of charity. 
 With water from salvation's living wells. 
 And just before him sees Heaven's open door, 
 God leaves the shining gold of faith to cool 
 
THE MORNING STAR. 1 3 
 
 And show what part is metal and what dross. 
 
 Hungering for fresh delights he throws around 
 
 Inquiring glances ; lo ! the earth is bare I 
 
 Gone are his former pleasures, pastimes, rests, 
 
 The hopes and aspirations which sustained 
 
 Endeavor and the meager flesh-pots filled, 
 
 To quickened appetite in fancy sweet ! 
 
 Gone are those friends whose service bought at- least 
 
 A bone to beat back famine from the heart ! 
 
 Earth is a boundless Wilderness, and life 
 
 A desert journey ! Then to murmuring, 
 
 Instead of prayer, he falls, whereat the skies, 
 
 Still merciful, rain angels' bread — the pure 
 
 Sweet distillations of celestial truth 
 
 And wisdom that, in gracious syllables. 
 
 Drop from God's Word and Spirit on the heart, 
 
 Bedewing all the morning walks of Thought. 
 
 Again day passes and the night comes down, 
 
 O'ershadowing mind and heart soon cold and dead 
 
 As a browm puff-ball which the traveler's foot 
 
 Presses, bringing forth only stifling fumes, 
 
 Like murmuring of unbelief, till Faith 
 
 Lays earnest hold upon the living Rock, 
 
 Whose streams burst forth amain, and all the soul 
 
 Water with the delights of pardoning love, 
 
 And make the desert blossom as the rose. 
 
 Soon before fire-crowned Sinai he stands. 
 Awestruck, while God, v/ith sin-subduing voice. 
 
14 THE MORNING STAR. 
 
 Proclaims the Law of Righteousness, ordained 
 
 With trembHngs and heart-burnings on the mount 
 
 Of Conscience, and with fiery finger traced 
 
 In the mind's plastic tablets. But alas ! 
 
 Before the deed of his inheritance 
 
 Is signed, faith fails ; the weak and groveling soul 
 
 Bows low before its Golden Calf — to works 
 
 Of human righteousness giving the praise 
 
 To the Invisible Glory due ! Thereat 
 
 The skies grow lurid with the kindling flames 
 
 Of wrath ! Destruction whets her sword ; but Grace, 
 
 After sore chastisement and stern rebuke. 
 
 Renews the broken Covenant and builds 
 
 Therefor a Golden Ark, in whose defence, 
 
 The while God's statues, like a brazen yoke, 
 
 Are laid upon his heart to fetter sin. 
 
 The pilgrim journeys forward, feeding still 
 
 On manna from the bounteous skies. At length 
 
 He wearies of God's truth and yearns to taste 
 
 Once more of flesh and blood, — but sickens soon 
 
 Of words, words, words, infinite, endless words 
 
 That from the sea of mortal vanity 
 
 Come flocking like a deluge o'er his camp, 
 
 Making him glad once more to sit in peace. 
 
 Feeding on truths which through the morning's freshness 
 
 Rain silently from boughs of Paradise. 
 
 At last before his smiling Goal he stands. 
 
 The long-sought Land of Promise, from whose hills 
 
 Flow milk and honey, all the bosom sweets 
 
THE MORNING STAR. 15 
 
 And tender charities of life ! but lo ! 
 Instead of rest and freedom, frowning walls 
 Which graze the sky, and giant foes invite 
 His earnest toil and valor, at whose threats 
 The faithless soul melts like the morning dews 
 Before the summer sun. Murmuring he turns 
 From duty's thorny path, whereat the gates 
 Of Inward Peace and Liberty which stood 
 With outstretched arms to welcome his approach 
 With no dark river threatening death between, 
 Roll back and are so barred that neither wind 
 Of idle promises, nor rain of tears, 
 Nor courage, rising from despair too late, 
 Can break the firm decree, though, adding sin 
 To sin, presumptuous, rashly he essays, 
 Unaided, what, with God's defence, but late 
 He dared not, and soon learns not to despise 
 God's mandates, but most heartily his own 
 Untempered strength and wisdom. Back he flies, 
 Frantic with grief and shame, like one pursued 
 By bees, with anguish stung and keen remorse, 
 And makes his doleful penitentiary 
 Howl with his lamentations. 
 
 Forty days 
 Of contradiction, chastisement and strife 
 He suffers there — as many years perhaps, 
 If these suffice not — wandering 'neath the rod 
 Of Moses, till the old, rebellious mind 
 Is slowly worn away, and the New Man 
 Again advances under leader new, — 
 
1 6 THE MORNING STAR, 
 
 No more by awe of Moses' rod constrained, 
 
 Or sense of duty urged to onerous tasks, 
 
 But by heart-strengthening Love and Hope inspired. 
 
 Strong in the Ark of Christ's redeeming might. 
 
 Up to death's forming rill, as to a bed 
 
 Of flowers, he hastes ; the nodding waves recede, 
 
 Wide spread the gales of Liberty, and Peace 
 
 And Joy bid hail to Canaan's blissful shore ! 
 
 Thus from his school severe young Israel 
 
 Stepped nimbly to his native soil a man — 
 
 A nation among nations ! Now begins 
 
 The long and mid-day strife for eminence ! 
 
 Unto no meaner seat has he been called 
 
 Than to the empire of the World : — " In thee 
 
 Shall all the nations of the Earth be blessed." 
 
 Go forward then conquering and to conquer ! 
 
 Pluck all Earth's crowns and tread them 'neath thy feet, 
 
 Till every nation, kindred, tribe and tongue 
 
 Shall name itself The Israel of the Lord : — 
 
 This is thy task, achieve it ere night fall. 
 
 So forth he bounded, w4th a shout of faith 
 
 Mightier than the combined artillery 
 
 Of our twin hemispheres ! Down fell the walls 
 
 Of Jericho, Oppression's towering seat. 
 
 And onward marched the meek, exultant host. 
 
 Encountered brief repulse, from one fell seed 
 
 Of sin remaining, such as often mars 
 
 The noblest victory — the secret lust 
 
THE MORNING STAR. 1/ 
 
 Of gold and glory, by which men and states 
 Are drawn into the devil's net ; but soon 
 The stern anathemas and burning wrath 
 Of an indignant People turn again 
 The withering glance of God upon his foes, 
 As each assailing throng, by madness urged 
 To their appointed doom, in turn receive 
 The meed of their iniquities, long due. 
 
 Then the sword rested from its toil, and sweet 
 But transitory Peace blessed Canaan's vales, 
 'Neath whose soft shining sun sin's lingering roots 
 Revived, as each new generation rose, 
 Causing the Husbandman again to drive 
 His yoke afield, and the rank sod o'erturn 
 With harsh affliction's plowshare. Every age 
 Its Winter had and Summer, Eve with Morn 
 Still alternating, as new races sprang, 
 And inwardly the selfsame path pursued 
 Which all their fathers trod — by sin enslaved, 
 By pitying Grace redeemed, as God to each 
 A mediate saviour and protector gave, — 
 Himself true Sovereign, on the Mercy Seat 
 Of Righteousness and Truth in light enthroned. 
 
 But when six times were past of Winter's cold 
 And Summer's growing heats, the restless Tribes 
 Once more conspired in general revolt. 
 As when their fathers built the Golden Calf, 
 " A king ! a king ! " to Samuel they cried : — 
 
1 8 THE MORNING STAR. 
 
 And kings they had, to their hearts' full content, 
 
 Who poisoned all the streams of liberty, 
 
 And turned them from their sighing Paradise 
 
 Into the great and terrible Wilderness 
 
 Of civil discord, anarchy and strife, 
 
 And Babylonish bondage — all that road 
 
 Which the mad Church with bloody footsteps trod, 
 
 And sackcloth garments, when she too would have 
 
 A king — whether Tradition, Pope, or Creed — 
 
 To bind men's free-born souls, on pain of death, 
 
 Or excommunication, to what man, 
 
 Daring to snatch the crown from Jesus' brow, 
 
 Declares to be the mandate of high Heaven. 
 
 Long, dark and bloody was the night which fell 
 On outcast Israel for that dread sin ! 
 In it ten princedoms of the Chosen House 
 Perished, with Law and Temple now grown old, 
 And, like their builders, found incompetent 
 To lead God's People to enduring rest. 
 
 But morning dawned at last ; a ruddy star, 
 
 Ascending from the Wilderness where sank 
 
 Judea's glory, kissed her eastern hills 
 
 And led her flocks to Jordan, whither came 
 
 The sacred Ark of a New Covenant, 
 
 With gold of faith o'erlaid and crowned with gold, 
 
 AVhereon, in higher crown, the Mercy Seat 
 
 Of Love reposes, with the outstretched wings 
 
 Of Righteousness and Truth twin cherubim 
 
THE MORNING STAR. 1 9 
 
 That bear God's footsteps down to Earth, o'erspread. 
 
 Behind a veil of mystic imagery, 
 
 In a fair tabernacle from the gaze 
 
 Of sin-blind eyes concealed, her Saviour comes ! 
 
 And, as the Sun of a New Era dips 
 
 His radiant feet in Jordan, the dark veil 
 
 Which shrouds the inner Temple of the Skies, 
 
 Hiding from man his heavenly home, divides 
 
 A moment to the eye of Faith, and Peace 
 
 Descending crowns the Son of God and Man ! 
 
 Rise, captive daughter of Jerusalem, 
 
 And kiss the Son, the High and Virgin-born, 
 
 And take the empire of a waiting World ! 
 
 What ! dost thou not behold Him ? Lo, He stands 
 
 Beside thee, meek and spotless as the lamb 
 
 Which Abel chose for a peace-offering 
 
 To Heaven, well pleased ! more intimate with God 
 
 In contemplative walk and ministry 
 
 Than Enoch, or him chosen second sire 
 
 Of human kind ! than Abraham more firm 
 
 In faith ! a sweeter sacrifice for sin 
 
 Than Isaac ! more than Jacob resolute 
 
 To win God's blessing ! more magnanimous 
 
 Than Joseph ! mightier to break the yoke 
 
 Of sin, and lead God's People to repose, 
 
 Than the great Lawgiver, or him named 
 
 The saviour, valiant Joshua ! in strength 
 
 Excelling him who rent the lion's jaws ! 
 
 Judge more immaculate than Samuel ! 
 
20 THE MORNING STAR. 
 
 Of kinglier heart and more melodious lips 
 Than Judah's royal bard ! than Solomon 
 With more imperial wisdom crowned ! in zeal 
 Exceeding the great Tishbite and his son — 
 The Law's defender and man's succorer ! 
 Of prophets chief, though rapt Isaiah lift 
 God's trumpet to his lips and pour vast waves 
 Of transcendental music from Heaven-gate 
 Down through the echoing ages ! more beloved 
 Than Daniel, and the last of evening's train 
 Excelling, as the Sun that star excels 
 Whose golden fingers lift the latch of dawn ! 
 Lo, where he stretches out his godlike arm 
 And hurls the powers of darkness from their seat 
 In body, soul and spirit ! None can stand 
 Before him ! From his magic finger flies 
 Disease, with limping sore Infirmity ! 
 Devils and Death slink from his burning glance, 
 Like Night and Winter from the rising Sun ! 
 O'er all the desolate and moaning Land, 
 Wrapped in the icy winding-sheet of sin 
 And ignorance, descend the mellowing floods 
 Of life and light, till, like a mountain stream 
 Leaping o'er crags, or storm-tossed Galilee, 
 The people wave, and clap their hands, and shout 
 "Hosanna unto David's Son, our King ! " 
 
 Alas ! what hast thou done ? Whose form is that 
 
 Suspended on yon dripping cross ? Oh ! Oh ! 
 
 It is thy Lord ! thy Life ! thy Light ! thy Crown ! 
 
THE MORNING STAR. 21 
 
 Thy Peace ! thy Joy ! thy Immortality ! 
 All, all are gone ! all dead ! all crucified ! 
 O wretched mother of a murderous throng ! 
 Get thee unto the wilderness ! The Grave 
 Awaits thy coming ! Outcast, desolate, 
 Earth has no home for thee in her breadth ! 
 Afar, the eagles scent the feast of blood ! 
 Near, lights funereal to the desert lead ! 
 
 But hark ! there is a murmur in the air 
 
 Of singing voices ! hark ! there is in earth 
 
 A rustling ! Say, were not these bones all dry ? 
 
 Were not these ashes dead ? What meaneth then 
 
 This army rising as in mockery 
 
 Of Death and Hell — clothing their giant frames 
 
 With living flesh — sinews and blood and skin — 
 
 And catching from the winds of heaven their breath ? 
 
 Lo ! they go forth in twelve invincible bands 
 
 That toss a smile at Death and through the grave 
 
 Rush on to victory, increasing more 
 
 The more their blood is spilt ! From every drop 
 
 Spring up ten warriors with Truth's lightning armed, 
 
 With shields of adamant and swords of keen 
 
 Celestial temper ! — On ! and on ! and on ! 
 
 Till Rome's proud empire trembles in their grasp. 
 
 Till distant lands, with tongues of strange accent. 
 
 Barbaric tribes and lettered capitols. 
 
 All bend the knee, and unto Israel's King 
 
 Confess allegiance, and join their might 
 
 To roll his conquering chariot round the World! 
 
22 THE MORNING STAR. 
 
 There came a stranger to my rude abode. 
 
 And unto me, with flattering accent, said, 
 '' / know a pathway leading from this wood 
 Along a toilsome but delightful road 
 
 To yonder mountain s gold-enameled head.'' 
 
 Straightway I follotued him, eager to gain 
 
 The lofty seat. Up many a flowering height 
 He led me till thoughts of the shadowy plain 
 Depised : — far over it the sun-kissed main 
 Glimmered, and all my heart with joy ivas light. 
 
 The path grew rugged, but I heeded not : 
 
 It greiv precipitous, but still I rose : 
 My brain grew dizzy and my blood was hot ; 
 But fust above appeared a level spot. 
 
 Which having gained, I there would take repose. 
 
 I reached it and my lids began to drop, 
 
 And my lax net'ves to suck at Nature's breast : 
 Then said my guide, '' If you would win the top 
 You must not lean upon the idler s prop, 
 Butniake the paths of industry your rest." 
 
 So, I aroused my blood-shot eyes and brain 
 
 To further toil, and spu7'red them to the strife 
 With a right-earnest will : the twinge of pain 
 [ counted but the needful prize of gain j — 
 
 To him who wins the mark, oh, what is life I _ 
 
THE MORNING STAR. 23 
 
 Weary, I soiigJit a more circuitous lead 
 The next bold steep to scale : but, as I stroiJe 
 
 To mount a. jutting crag, if seemed indeed 
 
 As if that mountain trembled like a reed 
 And shook me back into my native grove. 
 
 And then I woke and saw that I had dreamed 
 
 A strange, wild, earnest dream of human life : 
 And, as I deeply nmsed thereon, it seemed 
 As if an aiigel through the twilight gleamed^ 
 And beckoned me unto a nobler strife. 
 
II. 
 
 FROM long discursion, as a traveler 
 Standing upon the Alps far forth surveys 
 The country he would visit, not on wings 
 Of raptured vision borne, but stepping down 
 With difficulty to the common road 
 Of dusty toil and strife, my humble tale 
 I now resume, intending to relate 
 What happened in the inmost life of one 
 Six years my junior, sister, pupil, friend 
 And partner of those inmost thoughts which shrink 
 From gaze of others well beloved — twin ~soul, 
 More feminine, more delicately wise 
 And weak and fair, from infancy the joy 
 And comfort of our house, till Sorrow laid 
 His cross upon her brow — our Morning Star, 
 Our last born on the Earth and first in Heaven. 
 
 We thresh the sheaf and cast away the straw 
 And winnow out the chaff ; we grind the grain, 
 And bolt the flour ; then take the finest part, 
 And mixing it with sugar, milk and eggs, 
 And spices brought from India or the South, 
 
THE MORNING STAR. 25 
 
 Make a dessert to set before our friends ; 
 
 They eat, or taste, after their solid meal, 
 
 And go their way expecting something new 
 
 To-morrow. Thus the poet builds his song, 
 
 Taking from life's best growths the delicate pith, 
 
 Enriching it with cream from his own soul. 
 
 And sugar from the presses of his heart. 
 
 And quick conceits out of his fertile brain, 
 
 Spicing with native or with borrowed wit, 
 
 He mingles them with patient industry, 
 
 Refines them in his intellectual fires 
 
 And sets them on your table. Daintily 
 
 You touch or eat, and at to-morrow's feast 
 
 Expect some new dessert of song — which he 
 
 Who would provide, fit for the growing thought 
 
 Of an immortal soul, — not destitute 
 
 Of wholesome nourishment while with the warmth 
 
 Of pure afflatus filled, — must go again 
 
 Into the crucible, and there invoke 
 
 The Sire of song to send his only Son, 
 
 Immortal Truth, Imagination's lord. 
 
 With him to walk amid the fervid flames 
 
 Of heart and soul and intellect aglow 
 
 With sevenfold heats of passion, — there to keep 
 
 The even poise of judgment, cool as when 
 
 The North Wind sports with Eve, and bring him forth 
 
 Without the smell of anguish in his robes. 
 
 Thus I entreat as I essay to glean 
 
 Out of the many things which love holds dear, 
 
 However common, what may please the taste 
 
26 THE MORNING STAR. 
 
 Of those whose minds are full of pleasant things — 
 
 Vast galleries of Art stored with all wealth 
 
 Of genius, noblest out of noble culled, 
 
 That can no mean companionship endure. 
 
 Yet not alone to please do I aspire, 
 
 But through the gate called Beautiful to lead 
 
 The wisdom-loving soul, or the tried heart 
 
 Whose fondling on Faith's altar must be laid, 
 
 Into the sacred Temple where God keeps 
 
 The substance of those shadows which do seem 
 
 To form our human life. 
 
 It was my lot. 
 Chosen by partial confidence, to give 
 Companionship and counsel to this fair 
 And zealous Pilgrim, when by Heavenly Grace 
 Invited to exchange the fading hopes 
 Of earth for garments of celestial dye. 
 And take her journey to the Promised Land, 
 There to attend the court of Him whose name 
 She long had honored, and his counsel held 
 In chief respect. Now, more than honor due 
 To Teacher wise, or Sovereign, He desired 
 The conjugal devotion of a spirit 
 Inflamed with love's heart-welding fires, and bound, 
 For life and death, for woe and weal to One 
 Than life or liberty more dear. So called. 
 She looked upon her garments and perceived 
 They were not meet to clothe a Prince's bride. 
 Of coarse and sullen texture they appeared. 
 Stained here and there with various ugly blots 
 
MORNING STAR. ^7 
 
 Of sin and patches of discordant hue. 
 Yet had she not another : so her heart 
 Grew sad and melancholy even to tears, 
 That she must be seen at the Kmg's palace, 
 If seen at all, so wretchedly attired. 
 Meanwhile the messenger made haste, for time 
 Was pressing, and the King's command he said, 
 Was urgent, that no needless vanity 
 Should interfere with love, but filial trust 
 And confidence atone for past neglect 
 By prompt obedience to present duty. 
 
 So through the channel of the sea he led her, 
 From which emerging, after no small strife 
 With sorrow and dismay, her garments shone 
 More brightly in the rising Sun of hope 
 And love, soft smiling now over the waves, 
 Where slumbered all the World's alluring shows — 
 Its pride, its power, its fame, its glory, dust. 
 
 Advancing toward the Wilderness, the light 
 Of faith grew sometimes dim, and hunger preyed 
 Upon the heart, cut off from Nature's springs 
 Of pleasure, and incompetent to bear 
 The unrestrained effulgence of the Skies. 
 But, of an affable and patient spirit, 
 Not many murmurs rose of discontent, 
 Before the heavenly showers began to fall 
 About our pathway. Joyful then it was 
 To see her feed upon that mystic bread, 
 
28 THE MORNING STAR. 
 
 From everything in Nature gathering 
 Instruction and dehght. Flower, leaf and stone, 
 Even the desert sands, were radiant 
 With a poetic glow of imagery- 
 Peculiar to Love's charmed spring ; the clouds 
 Dropped knowledge, and each wind with honey-dew, 
 Odors and balm, came laden. From the Rock 
 Abundant waters flowed ; the mountains blazed, 
 And spoke in thunder tones, proclaiming Love 
 To God and man, life's everlasting Law ; 
 Fair was the Tabernacle of the Lord, 
 Adorned with gold, with azure curtains veiled ! 
 Fairest the Ark of His Redeeming Love ! 
 The cloud of His protecting providence 
 Was almost to the eye of sense revealed ; 
 His Spirit, a safe counsellor and guide. 
 Made plain the path of duty in the midst 
 Of thick-strewn doubts and perils. 
 
 Thus through all 
 The varying phases of that wondrous journey 
 Which men and Nations must alike pursue. 
 When to the higher life of Freedom called. 
 Our Traveler passed in safety, till arrived 
 Upon the borders of the Promised Land, 
 Where, as a youth schooled in the mysteries 
 Of Art and Science takes his blade or pen. 
 His plow or pruning hook, to join life's battle, 
 Or toils of manly industry, the soul. 
 Instructed in the laws and mysteries, 
 Of the celestial life, yearns to engage 
 
THE MORNING STAR, 29 
 
 In virtue's sacred warfare, or in arts 
 
 Diviner of domestic love and peace. 
 
 Thus, by the Spirit urged to leave the v/alks 
 
 Of solitude and join Immanuel's host, 
 
 Battling, with broken ranks, to rid the world 
 
 Of Sin's prolific broods, her maiden heart, 
 
 Modest and reticent, in evil hour 
 
 Gave heed to its false spies, to Fear and Doubt 
 
 Lending the ear, rather than Faith and Hope, 
 
 God's witnesses. Turning from duty's call, 
 
 She would have fled, but worse calamity 
 
 Saw in retreat, with loss insufferable 
 
 Threatened, of all her heart esteemed most dear. 
 
 Thus thrown into confusion, sore distressed 
 
 By her unfaithfulness, she sought again 
 
 To advance, and craved new opportunities 
 
 To prove her love sincere. Nor was her prayer 
 
 Denied, but vainly granted ; all her powers 
 
 In thraldom lay to some mysterious spell : 
 
 A willing spirit had no will to move 
 
 Rebellious flesh to action till the hour 
 
 Of new probation passed. Then Conscience poured 
 
 Her blows like rain and all the face of Heaven 
 
 Grew black with gathering storms, at sight of which, 
 
 Instead of flying to the only refuge 
 
 For sinners built of God, Love's Golden Ark, 
 
 With unbought grace and saving knowledge stored, 
 
 She only begged of Him another chance 
 
 To save herself. 
 
 Oh ! it was agony 
 
30 THE MORNING STAR. 
 
 But to look on that conflict, as she strove, 
 With a persistence which had once o'erborne 
 The power of generous Nature, to atone 
 For her ingratitude by some good act 
 Of pure obedience that should unlock 
 The gates of her lost Paradise ! 
 
 Too long 
 Mute witness of the wasting strife I stood, 
 Trusting that He who had so well begun 
 Would finish his good work without aid asked 
 Of mortal tongue, but soon my error learned. 
 When, as I mused amid my garden toils. 
 She came and said to me with bated breath 
 As one breaks news of woe, ' 'Tis over now ; 
 I have received my sentence, and have come 
 To say a sad and long farewell to you :' 
 And w^th a clinging accent on the ' you * 
 She clutched my heart as with the iron grasp 
 Of one in drowning agonies. 
 
 O Christ ! 
 In that dread hour I saw, and wondered not. 
 How thou couldst leave the throne of bliss, and fly 
 Beneath Death's lifted dart and pour thy blood 
 Like water on its breast to bring back hope 
 Into the fading eye of a lost World ! 
 Taking thereof, unto these pallid lips 
 I pressed the soul-reviving anodyne, 
 Pleading a Saviour's love, stronger than death, 
 Stronger than that to which death seemed a joy, 
 The double death when drear Gethsemane 
 
THE MORNING STAR. 3 1 
 
 Echoed his moans, and the relenting Cross 
 
 Shook with that cry which veiled the pitying Sun, 
 
 " Eloi ! Eloi ! lama sabbacthani ? " 
 
 For thee, sad soul, that cry went up to Heaven 
 
 And brought down rest — rest for the bleeding heart 
 
 Which in its uttermost extremity 
 
 Still adds to every plea, " Thy will be done." 
 
 " Alas, my brother, with the balm still comes 
 A thorn for troubled conscience ! Is it well 
 To say Thy will be done, and hft no hand 
 To do what God requires ? — so unhke Him 
 Who bore his cross till on it he was borne ? " 
 
 " Yet even He, in his humanity, 
 
 Was found too weak to bear his cross alone ; 
 
 He staggered 'neath his burden and at last 
 
 Gave up, in utter nothingness of self, 
 
 To bear God's just rebuke against a World 
 
 Which having sinned, can no more keep His law, 
 
 Unhelped of grace, than death can bring forth life." 
 
 "But grace will help when we a helping hand 
 Obediently put forth, powerless till then 
 For our deliverance. It is for this 
 My Saviour long has waited, long has plead 
 With my rebellious will to bear the yoke 
 Of God's commands, beneficent and light, 
 But for my heart's amazing wickedness." 
 
32 THE MORNING STAR. 
 
 " Say rather its infirmities : ' The spirit 
 
 Indeed is willing but the flesh is weak.' 
 
 Ev'n in the face of mortal agonies 
 
 The earth-bound soul will slumber till the voice 
 
 Of its rejected Lord, whose least command 
 
 It cannot keep till tears of blood have flowed 
 
 From his fond bosom, wakens it again 
 
 To consciousness and shame ; and even then 
 
 It can but fly his side in the dark hour 
 
 Of peril when the secret sin which walks 
 
 In company with honest purposes — 
 
 When glory-loving Selfishness, betrays 
 
 The Son of God to death. But He resigns 
 
 Only his mortal part, from man assumed, 
 
 That he might rescue it from Sin's embrace, 
 
 And death, inseparable shade of sin. 
 
 Returning presently He will uplift 
 
 Both his and our united manhood, purged 
 
 Of those impurities which so long clog 
 
 The spirit's action, making it the slave 
 
 Of Weakness and Disease, Sin's fertile race. 
 
 '' This is the glorious work He now had wrought 
 In my frail body, clothing it with strength 
 To bear the spirit's weight, had I obeyed 
 His quickening commands. From first to last 
 Man has a part to do in life's great work, 
 Else no more life, but idle mimicry, 
 A barren pantomime of Nature's powers. 
 If to the soul no righteous act belong, 
 
THE MORNING STAR. 33 
 
 Whence the distinction between faith and sin ? 
 What more is man than a wind-shaken harp, 
 Or sea-voiced organ with ten thousand keys, 
 On which when God has played some heavenly airs 
 With his right hand, He sweeps it with his left, 
 And makes it groan harsh discords, just to prove 
 The first was music and expose the effect ? 
 Wherefore methinks 'tis time this truant vine, 
 So tenderly nourished, cease to cast its fruit. 
 
 " Ah, who shall say, 'tis time ? Tis ever time 
 
 That Sin had not o'erwhelmed the world in death ; 
 
 That Earth had wakened from her dreams and stood, 
 
 In marriage robes of light and love arrayed, 
 
 To meet her Lover hastening from the Skies. 
 
 Time draws the kink in many an argument. 
 
 And only he can disentangle it. 
 
 But Time is sick and seldom keeps his hour. 
 
 And halt and blind withal, for when Sin pierced 
 
 His eye with her foul dart, he backward ran 
 
 A thousand leagues into the wilderness 
 
 Of ancient Night, dragging his shattered coach, 
 
 With its wrenched axil and crazed bridal pair, 
 
 In ruins after him. Christ reined him back ; 
 
 But only He who holds the rein now knows 
 
 His place : man ever sets his post too near, 
 
 Because it shines with such a goodly light. 
 
 That, like the sun, it seems but a bare league 
 
 From every generation : — nor indeed 
 
 Is it from their world farther ; so 'tis well : — 
 
34 THE MORNING STAR, 
 
 But the great World has a much larger day, 
 
 And the great Man who draws his life from it, 
 
 As doth an unhatched eaglet from the egg, 
 
 Is but a weak and puling infant yet, 
 
 In virtue, though his head be like Mont Blanc 
 
 In vanity and sin. Thereat both Truth 
 
 And Mercy may with Equity rejoice, 
 
 In hope that slow bespeaks a solid growth. 
 
 Hark you, should he whose dust Heaven did refine 
 
 Six generations of the stars — his soul 
 
 As long revolved in God's creative thought — 
 
 Who, poised at last upon Creation's spire, 
 
 To face God's breath and glitter back his smile, 
 
 Did let the devil throw him to the ground 
 
 And ne'er cry Hold — not holding fast the rod 
 
 Of God's command like Him who, later, stood 
 
 On Salem's Temple to reclaim his right 
 
 By simple faith — shall this poor shifting vane, 
 
 Broken, defiled and battered by its fall, 
 
 Mount back again o'er the enormous pile 
 
 Of hghtning-blasted Nature in an hour ? 
 
 Or when by matchless goodness from the mire 
 
 Drawn forth, and washed in Mercy's crimson streams. 
 
 Shall it of its own power and virtue boast ? 
 
 Or dream of glory ? Not a single stair 
 
 Shall he be lugged, but he shall give God thanks, 
 
 Even that he could consent to be thus drawn 
 
 Out of the rubbish of his fallen house. 
 
 How can the dead arise ? Can he put forth 
 
 A motion of his will, or animate 
 
THE MORNING STAR. 35 
 
 Desire, whence motion springs, till in him God 
 Replant uprooted power and liberty ? 
 Power planted is God's talent, freely lent. 
 For beggared man to merchant with and gain 
 A livelihood or competence, in trust 
 Of his kind Benefactor who, betimes. 
 Calls for both interest and principal. 
 His due, that we may not forget our thanks. 
 And, freely rendering up our borrowed wealth, 
 A double portion from His hand receive. 
 
 " Or the just doom which for the idler waits — 
 
 To be outcast from His indignant presence 
 
 To utter darkness. But, because most just, 
 
 I cannot bear my punishment, like Cain 
 
 A vagabond henceforward in the Earth, 
 
 Till to her sighing breast she kindly takes 
 
 The blood-stained clod, haply with penal flames 
 
 To purify it for some better use — 
 
 The thing that stained it gone to other fires, 
 
 As feajfully beneficent and just. 
 
 Have I not crucified the Son of God 
 
 Afresh, and put his love to open shame 
 
 Before the angels ? O ungrateful soul ! 
 
 Whom hast thou but thy rank iniquities 
 
 To blame for fruitless penance self-incurred ? 
 
 " Nay, thou hast but, through impotence of faith, 
 Sin-born, yet by redeeming love atoned, 
 Declined his offered service, like the twelve 
 
3^ THE MORNING STAR. 
 
 Who fled his presence at the fiery hour 
 
 Of trial, but withdrew not thence their hearts, 
 
 Fast bound to his in agonizing love. 
 
 Till love of Goodness for its own sweet sake, 
 
 And pure desire of virtue's crown, be dead, 
 
 Sin may destroy the outgrowth of the life 
 
 Invisible, but touches not its root. 
 
 Which, watered by the crimson rain of Heaven, 
 
 A thousand times will spring with hope, and lift 
 
 Its pleading palms in air, nor once receive 
 
 From the glad, pitying Sun a cold rebuke." 
 
 '' But are not all moving toward Heaven or Hell 
 
 By slow gradations ? Distant seems the goal, 
 
 And easy of escape, where Folly leads 
 
 The pleasure-loving throng down the broad road 
 
 Of self-indulgence — distant never less, 
 
 Through Fancy's glass beheld ; but every step 
 
 A step more near, diminishes at once 
 
 The power and wish to change, while the poor soul 
 
 Grows ever more absorbed, more bound with cords 
 
 Of habit, till at last, though with some warmth 
 
 Of nature moved, or lingering sparks of grace, 
 
 It grows oblivious to God's kind voice, 
 
 Fainter and fainter through the twilight heard 
 
 Calling it back to life, and, step by step, 
 
 Like an old man descending to the grave, 
 
 Sinks down into the shades of endless night. 
 
 Oh ! from this horrible doom it is I flee, 
 
 Till my weak limbs can bear me on no more. 
 
 And my poor brain grows dizzy with its flight." 
 
THE MORNING STAR. 37 
 
 " Then let us no more strive, but prostrate fall, 
 
 Here at the foot of this red, weeping cross, 
 
 Which only bars that melancholy road. 
 
 O Father of the fatherless, and Friend 
 
 Of the oppressed! Helper omnipotent 
 
 Of them that have no strength, the grievous load 
 
 Of our infirmities and wickedness 
 
 Take from us, for the love of thy dear Son, 
 
 Whose blood our sins have shed, and on us pour 
 
 That renovating stream, that our cold hearts, 
 
 All empty, dead, corrupt without thy grace. 
 
 May henceforth beat in unison with thine, 
 
 And more reflect thy goodness, truth and love." 
 
 " Amen, and yet amen ; so shall we do 
 God's mandates and no more despise his law, 
 Most meet to be obeyed. O had I stood 
 Faithful in trial's hour, his mighty arm 
 Had girded me to run the glorious race 
 Of immortality, as when of old 
 Elijah ran before the king ! My voice 
 Like an apostle had rung forth to call 
 Mankind to peace and freedom ! All the Earth 
 Had listened and believed, all nations joined 
 Immanuel's conquering host, beating their swords 
 To plowshares and their spears to pruning-hooks. 
 Never to learn war more, — in nobler arts 
 And heavenly industries employed. But see ! 
 He comes again ! my dear Redeemer comes 
 With offers new of mercy ! I will now 
 
38 THE MORNING STAR. 
 
 Be still and let Him lift me to his arms, 
 And kiss away my tears, and pour sweet balm 
 Into my crying wounds, and lift my feet 
 Over this narrow stream to Canaan's banks, 
 All beautiful with virtue's fadeless blooms ! — 
 Lo, He has passed ! the vision fades ! the cloud 
 Returns and closes darkly round my soul, 
 No more to lift its awful gloom ! " 
 
 — Alas, 
 There is no death but death ; no royal road 
 From Earth to Heaven but that the King has trod : 
 And no man ere, like Him, gave up the ghost 
 By his own motion ; whether this or that 
 We will, the act is life. Smite then O God ! 
 And slay in thy own fashion — one with fire, 
 And one with frost, with lightning one, and one 
 With lingering plagues ! — ten thousand ministers 
 Wait thy command to purge our souls of pride. 
 And scour our vessels of mortality : 
 But this seems hardest — this the bitterest cup 
 For mortals mixed — to be thrust back from Heaven 
 Into a living grave, where soul and mind 
 Disjointed fall apart, as bone from bone 
 And flesh from flesh — there 'mid delusive hopes 
 And mocking phantoms of delight, to feel 
 The gnawing worm rankle amid the nerves 
 Of consciousness, and the insatiate fire 
 Pluck at life's elements, till all is still 
 As dust in the cold coffin. From this hell 
 Great God deliver us ! Did He lie there, 
 
THE MORNING STAR. 39 
 
 Who drank each cup offered to human lips, 
 
 And wrung the dregs ? Aye, at the midnight hour, 
 
 When all his bosom friends — bone of his bone, 
 
 Flesh of his flesh — fell from him, and when Thou, 
 
 Soul of his soul, stood from his soul aloof. 
 
 An awful moment — when the iron Earth 
 
 And brazen Sky no pitying tear let fall, 
 
 But the World's broken bond left him to pay 
 
 To the last farthing, that a bankrupt race 
 
 Might from his soul's exhaustless treasures draw 
 
 Perpetual ransom — then his spirit felt 
 
 Death's terrors ; then his judgment was removed, 
 
 His light became as darkness, and his strength 
 
 Ashes : — the grave was then a place of rest. 
 
 But lo ! that gulf which like the Dead Sea drank 
 
 Jordan's perpetual tribute, and still cried 
 
 " Give ! give ! I thirst ! " and, deep beneath the main, 
 
 Rolled on its leaden billows, soon o'erflowed. 
 
 When Heaven's vast Ocean rose and poured its floods 
 
 Into her seething cauldron. Hell's huge maw, 
 
 Which gorged a race and still grew cavernous. 
 
 As when Leviathan sucks at a draught 
 
 A billion insects dancing on the waves 
 
 Over the unseen jaws of Destiny, 
 
 Soon felt strange surfeit when that Meteor fell 
 
 On Time's dark waters and sank glistening down 
 
 Into its rock-ribbed, wondering vault. Alarmed, 
 
 The Grave spouts forth her Conqueror, and Death 
 
 Amazed, retreats and falls on his own sword. 
 
 O Father ! let it then suffice that we 
 
40 THE MORNING STAR. 
 
 Approach our foes but near enough to mark 
 
 What our DeHverer has done, — as when 
 
 One looks upon a lion slain, and feels 
 
 His iron muscles, and inserts his hand 
 
 Between those jaws horrent in death, to learn 
 
 How to give thanks to Jesse's warlike son, 
 
 Who stripped his fierceness off, yea, in one hour 
 
 Made both the lion and the bear as tame 
 
 As the meek lambs which else had rinsed their fangs. 
 
 '' Brother I fain would sleep : my soul is sad 
 And weary unto death with this long strife. 
 Yet dare I not my lids in slumber close, 
 Lest they no more should open on a world 
 Of beauty, sweet to sight and ravished hope, 
 Though justly to unworthy feet denied." 
 
 " O heart to mine most dear ! how would I fain 
 
 Take from my life its joys and make them thine, — 
 
 Its rest to give thy soul an hour's repose ! 
 
 But One far worthier has already claimed 
 
 That noble privilege. O think of Him 
 
 Who had not where to lay his star-crowned head — 
 
 Star-crowned in Heaven but girt with thorns on Earth ; 
 
 For us He bore the weariness and want. 
 
 The sorrows, disappointments, buffetings, 
 
 Pains and asperities of human life, 
 
 Slights from the erring good, and contumely 
 
 From wicked men, that to the desolate 
 
 And broken heart He might apply the balm 
 
THE MORNING STAR, 4I 
 
 Of his all-healing sympathy and love. 
 
 This heavenly cordial take, darling, and rest ; 
 
 For so He giveth his beloved sleep." 
 
 " What ! shall my heart rejoice while He lies there 
 
 Pale, silent, motionless in the cold grave, 
 
 Where my ingratitude has laid Him ? No : 
 
 Let sorrow rather be its joy, and tears 
 
 Its pleasant wine, till my obedience 
 
 Permits Him to arise and take the crown 
 
 Of Righteousness and place it on my brow — 
 
 Crown ever his, by mercy magnified 
 
 In glory, but in triumph only worn 
 
 When with his ransomed, loving children shared. 
 
 Say, doth a father more in clemency 
 
 Delight than commendation of his child ? 
 
 Obedience reflects the highest praise, 
 
 And none like Mercy grieves to have been born, 
 
 And longs to fly again to her warm nest. 
 
 And sleep forever in Love's blissful heart." 
 
 " Most true and honorable are these words, 
 
 Dear casuist, yet not the whole of truth. 
 
 For Israel's penitence, or deeds of faith 
 
 And virtue by his frail disciples shown, 
 
 Jesus had vainly waited in the tomb. 
 
 But rising thence through God's eternal power, 
 
 He lifted his dead Body, his fair Spouse, 
 
 O'erwhelmed with condemnation, from the grave 
 
 Of buried hope, and poured the healing oil 
 
42 THE MORNING STAR. 
 
 Of his undying love upon her wounds, 
 
 And gave her strength, aftei a brief repose, 
 
 To do and dare and suffer for his name. 
 
 Then, turning from her idle dreams of power 
 
 And glory, dead to every thought of self. 
 
 She followed her ascending Lord from Earth 
 
 To love's celestial Paradise ; or rather 
 
 That Paradise came down to Earth, when He, 
 
 With all his holy angels, through the clouds 
 
 Of human expectation and desire, 
 
 Broke like the sun through noon-day storms, and poured 
 
 The tender radiance of benignant love 
 
 And self-denying goodness on her breast. 
 
 So let us patiently His rising wait." 
 
 Huntsma7i when the chase is do7ie^ 
 If the game be lost or won, 
 
 Unstring thy Boiv : 
 Farther toward the morning sitn 
 
 Shall be its throw. 
 
 Youth whose soft ari7is haste to toil, 
 Or whose brain to lear?iing's spoil, 
 
 Unstring thy Bow, 
 Ere excess cojisunie like oil 
 
 Thy spirifs flow. 
 
 Miner in the mines of thought, 
 Seeking; where no man hath sous^ht. 
 
THE MORNING STAR, 43 
 
 Regard thy Bow ! 
 Oft the crown is worn thafs wrought 
 The sod beloiv. 
 
 Diver in the soul's deep sea, 
 Pearls of peace and liberty 
 
 If thou wouldst know, 
 Take what yesus bringeth thee, 
 
 And rest thy Bow, 
 
III. 
 
 REST ! can the parched, vein-shrunken traveler rest 
 In sight of the blue heaven of liquid life, — 
 Whether oasis or mirage, — that charms 
 His captive eye and nerves his weary limbs ? 
 On ! on ! and Mercy grant it be no dream ! 
 What though my trusty camel fails at last 
 And kneels upon the sand ? — I must more speed 
 To drink and bring him back a needful bowl. 
 To prove that God is to his promise true, 
 And when He calls means we shall follow Him. 
 
 Great God ! she reels ! she staggers ! help her Thou ! 
 
 My staff is broken ; I am but a worm 
 
 Writhing with anguish in the burning sun — 
 
 The fierce, red glare of this impending woe ! 
 
 O why wilt Thou give strength neither to rest, 
 
 Nor labor ? — light to see, nor dark to sleep ? 
 
 But only this distracting horned moon 
 
 Of an unfinished Law, big with the child 
 
 Of Gospel Hope, which many times goes down 
 
 Before it is fulfilled and turns to wane ? 
 
 Have pity and reveal Thy quickening Beam 
 
 Unto the void eye of her struggling soul, 
 
THE MORNING STAR . 45 
 
 Before too late. One ray from Thy bright throne 
 Is worth a thousand tapers lit by men : 
 One little breath of Thine can swell the sail 
 Which thrice a thousand human arguments 
 Puff at in vain. O why should this fair bad 
 Wither on its dry stalk, while in my branch 
 Flows life which would but cannot that way bleed 
 To save a dying sister ? Why should this 
 Of all Thy radiant blushes fail for thirst, 
 While tantalizing waves laugh round her lips. 
 And golden apples nod to her very teeth ? 
 Must the last spark of heavenly fire go out, 
 And leave our souls but black, unsightly stuff, 
 Ere we confess all glory Thine ? O breathe, 
 Breathe on the fading coal, and quicken it 
 Once more to joyous, heaven-aspiring flame ! 
 Strong men go up, knock, enter and find rest, 
 Leaving their sin-soiled, blood-stained rags without : 
 But now a tender maiden seeks Thy door 
 Almost in marriage robes attired, when, lo ! 
 Thou bid'st her come, and in Thy bosom hidest 
 Thy death-dispelling hand, and from her eye 
 Thy latch-revealing beam, till her sick brain 
 Reels like a drunken mast with tattered sails 
 Flapping the angry wind — yea till the god 
 Within her, trembles on his blazing throne, 
 And all the steadfast planetary powers 
 Threaten to fly their orbits ! Father in Heaven, 
 The night is dark, the storm is very sore, 
 Open Thy bosom to Thy houseless ones ! 
 
4^ THE MORNING STAR, 
 
 Dear slumbering Helmsman, wake ! carest Thou not 
 Though we all perish ? Speak unto these winds, 
 And they shall slink into their caves abashed, 
 While from Thy lips flow tranquilizing oil, 
 To make the tossed soul mirror Thy calm trust. 
 
 Then, to the mountain tops of faith upraised, 
 
 Prophetic vision blessed my wondering eyes. 
 
 I saw the scattered fragments of that rare, 
 
 Heaven-favored nation who, for conscience sake 
 
 Hugging her golden fetters, cast her crown 
 
 Of glory in the dust, which there to find, 
 
 God sent her, with consuming stroke and flame 
 
 On her fair idols, overwhelming all 
 
 Her cherished hopes with ruin infinite 
 
 And helpless anguish. Lo ! as one deranged. 
 
 Pursuing shadows, from her blissful seat 
 
 Exiled, she wanders in all lands ! Confused, 
 
 Blasted and torn, a nation without head, 
 
 Her fame inverted, lost her high renown. 
 
 She roams the world's vast wilderness transformed 
 
 From bare to bloom by the rejected grace 
 
 Poured from the bosom of her smitten Rock ! 
 
 Disconsolate she treads the spire-crowned streets 
 
 Of New Jerusalem, seeking the shade 
 
 Of her departed glory, long since cast 
 
 Amid time's rubbish, like a broken loom 
 
 On which the royal garments once were woven. 
 
 Or nest from which the eaglets have escaped. 
 
 By whirlwinds on the barren mountain strewn. 
 
THE MORNING STAR, 47 
 
 But though, as rolls Love's purple chariot 
 
 Through Zion's broadening avenues and lanes, 
 
 That tearless maiden, with dishevelled crown, 
 
 Sighing amid the tombs of buried hopes, 
 
 Be passed as one unnoticed, while most seen 
 
 By Abraham's God and David's Lord, still dear 
 
 For memory's sake, and the immutable bond 
 
 Of solemn promise, and poetic truth 
 
 Of conjugal affection once bestowed, 
 
 Nearest the Father's and the Lover's heart 
 
 She stands, chosen of Mercy to receive 
 
 The key of Earth's great day, and place the crown 
 
 Of love's supreme achievement on the brow 
 
 Her blindness pierced with thorns : to clothe again 
 
 Those limbs in purple, dyed in her own heart ; 
 
 To kiss the feet and hands through which she drove 
 
 The cruel nails, and staunch that bleeding side 
 
 With her soft bosom ! To this end she waits, 
 
 Neglected yet a little while, the hour 
 
 When, from the circle of his conquering march 
 
 Through the great Gentile body of mankind. 
 
 Neglected for her sake that Life might spring 
 
 From her engrafted fountain, and in turn 
 
 Ransomed through her despoiling, Jesus comes, 
 
 With proof invincible, his titles high 
 
 To claim — Sovereign Redeemer of the World, 
 
 The Lord of Sabbaoth and Salem's King. 
 
 Then with the prophet" O the depth ! " I cried, 
 " The riches of His wisdom who hath joined 
 
48 ' THE MORNING STAR. 
 
 So well this fair mysterious frame of being, 
 
 That while one member dips in Jordan's waves, 
 
 Another standing firmly on the shore, 
 
 Or half immersed, extends a helping hand 
 
 To guide it through the depths, then bowing low 
 
 In turn the sanctifying rite receives. 
 
 Thus Soul and Body, Jew and Gentile thus. 
 
 By Heaven's benignant ordinance are joined." 
 
 But what shall turn Euphrates from her course, 
 Or win this limned spirit from its dark 
 Entanglements ? Caught in the narrow strait 
 'Twixt duty and sin-born incompetence, 
 With loss of coveted delights, and storm 
 Of anguish threatened, the bewildered soul, — 
 Turning no more at Reason's call to view 
 The substance of its hopes, and truer truths 
 Learn from experience, — with steadfast gaze 
 Burns after the impossible — the fair 
 Receding Vision of Life's Summer-land, 
 Radiant with love's imperishable bloom. 
 And wisdom's golden fruit. 
 
 What horror then, 
 What blankness of amazement on our hearts 
 Fell like the shadow of an unforetold 
 Eclipse, throwing its weird and awful gloom 
 O'er palsied industry and joy, when Doubt 
 Could no more doubt the melancholy tale, 
 By the wild Bickerings of fancy told, 
 That Reason had received a shock. Too long 
 
THE MORNING STAR. • 49 
 
 And desperately bent on the bright dream 
 
 Of glory just beyond her straining grasp, 
 
 The mental eye grew fixed, and the vexed nerve, 
 
 Weary with its unbroken tension, burned 
 
 With fever heat, and its own morbid flames 
 
 Mingled with the communicated light 
 
 Of nature and of grace, till, in the maze 
 
 Of thought's commingling elements, the true 
 
 And false danced hand in hand, pleasure gave birth 
 
 To pain, and Grief rejoiced that she could grieve. 
 
 Thus out of order chaos came again ; 
 
 Darkness from light, and evil from the seeds 
 
 Of promised good sprang up. Satan was lord, 
 
 And on His cross the Sun of Righteousness 
 
 Bowed down His thorn-crowned head and slept, while 
 
 Death 
 Triumphing stood and raised his glittering dart. 
 Wrapped round with flowers of a delusive hope, 
 As the insidious fowler thus prepared 
 His last and fatal snare. " One effort more," 
 He whispered '' and this tedious conflict ends ; 
 In victory ends. What doth thy Lord desire ? — 
 What ask, but certain proof that nought in Earth 
 Attracts thee like His love ? Then let thy heart 
 No more defile itself with carnal joys, 
 Nor taste the world's gross condiments till bread 
 Be given it from Heaven, with love's pure wine, 
 Fresh from its fountain in the Heart of Bliss. 
 No more let human love or counsel turn 
 Thy spirit from its purpose, drawing back 
 
50 THE MORNING STAR. 
 
 Thy feet from Jordan's puny stream, which soon 
 
 Will fly before life's conquering Ark, when once 
 
 Thy faithfulness is proved. At the last hour, 
 
 Jesus, well-pleased, will from His cloudy throne 
 
 Descend, and lift thee from the smiling floods 
 
 Of thy transmuted sorrow, to a seat 
 
 At his right hand, eternal, glorious. 
 
 And crown thee with acceptance, honor, love. 
 
 In sight of thy rejoicing friends, more blessed, 
 
 By thy devoted constancy and faith. 
 
 Than by a weak surrender to their fears." 
 
 So spake the arch- deceiver, by whose power, 
 
 When the true miracle of life is past. 
 
 And God to His pavilion has returned, 
 
 A mocking semblance of the truth is built 
 
 Of life's abandoned forms, whereby the heart, 
 
 Half won to liberty, but thirsting still 
 
 For gain and glory more than godliness. 
 
 And leaning on the arm of human strength. 
 
 Is backward lured to the devouring pit. 
 
 Where all things mortal are consumed : — so spake, 
 
 And to his subtleties her ear gave heed. 
 
 As to an angel's voice. 
 
 O darkest hour 
 Of mortal darkness ! when, with iron will, 
 Clenched by a drowning conscience, she refused 
 All food and consolation till the Sun 
 Of her lost hope should rise ! Make haste ! no more 
 Of sign and shadow ! Stern realities 
 Of famine, torch and sword are at thy gates. 
 
THE MORNING STAR, 5 1 
 
 Devoted, frantic, blind Jerusalem ! 
 
 A serpent's glistening coil is round thee twined, 
 
 Too strong for mortal arm ! O Death ! how sweet 
 
 Thy pure and orderly comings are, when Love, 
 
 Home-bound, flings back her fond farewell, and glides 
 
 Out of the weary, palHd, restful form, 
 
 To seek the mansions of eternal joy. 
 
 Or hover, in sweet memories, round the hearth 
 
 And table with their vacant seat, not all 
 
 Vacant, and round the evening lamp which shines 
 
 With a more spiritual radiance on the page 
 
 By the present absent-ones most loved ! But Oh ! 
 
 Glare not upon us from the vacant eyes 
 
 Of those we have adored — those whom we love 
 
 More than the best blood of our curdling hearts, 
 
 Which longs for their deliverance to leap forth 
 
 And plead with the destroyer ! 
 
 Vain, all vain. 
 Is a fond father's mandate, little used 
 To such respect ; — as vain a mother's tears. 
 More powerful still. A sister's tender plea, 
 A brother's calm appeal alike are vain. 
 No : to a higher mandate, and a love 
 Profounder, she will this time faithful prove — 
 Faithful to death a crown of life to gain. 
 So clung bewildered Mary to the cross 
 Where hung her dying Lord, expecting soon 
 To see the Conqueror of Death and Hell 
 Transform that wretched scaffold to the throne 
 Of an adoring world. What wonder, when 
 
52 THE MORNING STAR. 
 
 The light divine faded from those fond eyes 
 Which had been her chief solace, and which oft 
 She had in vision seen, regal with joy 
 Beneath the crown of Solomon, she fain 
 Had perished also on the crimson sod 
 Where o'erwrought reason swooned ? 
 
 Three dreadful days 
 At the grave's mouth she lay as one entranced, 
 Bound by some strange, mysterious power, as when 
 A dove before the serpent's ghastly jaws 
 Stands motionless, ready, another moment, 
 To stuff his burning throat. Then, summoning 
 Counsel both human and divine, I sought 
 Once more her couch, and twining tenderly 
 The cords of reason round her dormant soul. 
 Seized gently, but with strong, inflexible grasp 
 Of will her sturdy purpose, adding "must" 
 To vain persuasions. Thus aroused, the fiend 
 In her distempered brain flashed fire and hurled 
 Defiance ; but I saw that he was chained 
 By the strong angel who kept guard of him 
 In Ivove's invincible name. Then adding strength 
 To inward power, I raised her drooping form 
 Half upright, and there held, while from my eyes 
 She drank the calm, fixed purpose. Swift along 
 The tremulous nerves the clear conviction flashed 
 That time was ripe for change — that Truth had spoken 
 The edict of a stern necessity, 
 To draw her from the grave of a dead hope 
 Back to life's cold realities. Alas ! 
 
THE MORNING STAR, 53 
 
 How could she bear Earth's mockeries again ? 
 
 That silent tomb, with its pale, princely Guest, 
 
 Was sweeter than a Christless world : — and then 
 
 She sank again upon her couch and clung, 
 
 In tearless agony, to her fond dream. 
 
 But with a hold less resolute, less firm. 
 
 Slowly she bent her conquered will to mine. 
 
 First struggled hard, then half embraced the chain, 
 
 Revolted, yielded, threatened, scolded, plead ; 
 
 But still from self-imprisonment came forth. 
 
 Looked on the face of Nature, and partook, 
 
 Reluctantly, her bounty, looked on life. 
 
 As from a frozen mountain-top, erewhile 
 
 With glory crowned, a stranded aeronaut, 
 
 His heaven-bound bark to sudden anchor drawn, 
 
 Gazes abroad over a mist-clad world, 
 
 In servile toils or sensuous pleasures lost. 
 
 On Home, the scene of conflicts and defeats 
 
 Immeasurably sad, she dared not look. 
 
 But with averted thoughts walked to and fro 
 
 Amid its faded blooms, striving to shun 
 
 The stings with which e'en love itself seemed armed, 
 
 To drive her from its doors. 
 
 So she went forth, 
 An exile from her native paradise. 
 Just forty days, as by her chronicles 
 Long afterwards I read. Her silken chain 
 Freely transferring to the faithful hand 
 Of a devoted sister wise to mark 
 The delicate needs of health, she went abroad 
 
54 THE MORmNG STAR. 
 
 A wanderer in the World's vast wilderness, 
 
 Obedient to the law of others' wills, 
 
 And the imperative demands of health, 
 
 That the exhausted nerve, relaxing soon 
 
 To infant tenderness, might drink new life, 
 
 Rest and diversion, from the mingled springs 
 
 Of nature, social intercourse and art. 
 
 Soon heart and brain regained their equipoise ; 
 
 Love in her eyes and laughter on her lips 
 
 Resumed their favorite seat. Returning then, 
 
 Lovely as Dian after brief eclipse, 
 
 But with an inward sadness, half concealed 
 
 In kindness from her friends, and with a doubt 
 
 If she at all were thought of in the Skies, 
 
 She gave such diligence as feeble health 
 
 Permitted, to alleviate the ills 
 
 Of poor humanity, finding in these, 
 
 Not the gilt crucifix which anchorites 
 
 In caves and dim cathedrals bow before. 
 
 Nor that, as vain, in duties self-imposed, 
 
 But the true cross which the meek Lamb of God 
 
 For our deliverance and example bore, 
 
 Formed of the rude, harsh growths of common life- 
 
 The manifold afflictions and restraints. 
 
 Humiliations, hungerings, conflicts, deaths, 
 
 To which the child at once of Earth and Heaven 
 
 Must needs be subject in a sin-wrecked World. 
 
 Yet He not only his appropriate share 
 As David's son endured, but greater load, 
 
THE MORNING STAR. 55 
 
 Ta,ken from his o'erburdened countrymen, 
 
 Who, seeing there such godlike energy, 
 
 Piled on him the huge mountain of their woes. 
 
 All which he bore with patience in the strength 
 
 Drawn momently from power's exhaustless Fount, 
 
 The bosom of his Father, from whose trust, 
 
 Amid the wilderness of tangling cares, 
 
 Conflicting interests and rival claims. 
 
 Which form the battle-ground of human life, 
 
 Satan essayed to lure him, witli the bait 
 
 Threefold, by which he long has kept the World 
 
 Dangling upon his hook. To appetite 
 
 He first appeals, unto ambition next, 
 
 And finally to fear ; but all in vain 
 
 He plied his arts to draw that loving Soul, 
 
 From its firm anchorage, and send it forth, 
 
 Adrift on glory's phosphorescent seas. 
 
 In selfish quest of joy. Behold, instead, 
 
 The meek and faithful son, the brother kind. 
 
 The generous neighbor, the instructor wise, 
 
 And the renowned physician who relieves, 
 
 With tender hand, the sorrows of a race. 
 
 And ask no other fee but thanks to God. 
 
 Ah ! what were all the thrones of Jupiter 
 
 To such dominion over Selfishness, 
 
 The devil that doth most afflict mankind ? 
 
 Then stood revealed the Son of God, distinct 
 
 Above the blushing throng of heroes bald, 
 
 And demigods, that long had swayed the Earth 
 
 And won its blind applause. New hght that hour 
 
56 THE MORNING STAR. 
 
 Dawned on the World, and through its dusky vales 
 And taper-lighted streets began to move. 
 
 But while the Son of God behind the veil 
 
 Of his enshrouding manhood wrought, concealed 
 
 In part, in part made known, by his rude mask, 
 
 His followers to some external heaven 
 
 Their thoughts directed, from ambitious dreams 
 
 Of glory and preeminence, of power 
 
 And vengeance, unconverted. Deeper yet 
 
 The renovating flame of love divine 
 
 Must penetrate, until the very roots 
 
 Of sin and weakness are consumed ; till Self 
 
 Lies prostrate in the dust, and only God, 
 
 Dwelling in all his works, as in a house 
 
 Not made with hands, is worshipped : until then, 
 
 The stoutest heart will quail before the blast 
 
 Of warring elements that ever beat 
 
 Around the narrow isthmub between death 
 
 And life, to winnow well the golden grain. 
 
 Mark how the boldest of that stricken band, 
 
 On whose pale lips the extreme pledge of love 
 
 Was not yet cold, bowed like a hollow reed 
 
 Before the tempest, when sustaining grace 
 
 Was but a moment from his heart withdrawn. 
 
 But when the loving Saviour, taking hence 
 
 The shadow of himself, himself did give 
 
 To be the meat and drink of those he loved, 
 
 By inward virtue to the soul revealed. 
 
 They who but yesterday, like timid sheep, 
 
THE MORNING STAR. 57 
 
 Fled from their Shepherd's side, to-day, more bold 
 Than Hons, calmly front the raging throng, 
 Or frowning judgment seat, ready, like Him, 
 To seal their testimony with their blood. 
 Thus from the ashes of a blighted World 
 Upsprings a fairer Earth, a sweeter Heaven, 
 Wherein dwells Righteousness from the pure root 
 Of love unfeigned arising — love to God 
 Incarnate in the love of Man — not there 
 Confmed, but heavenward rising to its Sire, 
 Indissolubly joined with Him whose life 
 Pervades both Heaven and Earth, Soul of our Soul, 
 Light of our light, whose Spirit, through faith's root 
 Admission gaining, rises up and flows 
 Through every faculty, blossoms in love, 
 And burgeons in the fair expanse of thought, 
 Author and partner of the soul's deep joy. 
 
 Say then, fond muse, how fared it with our Dove, 
 
 After her lofty nest by the rough winds 
 
 Was twice unseated ? Then beneath the Rock, 
 
 Upon the very ground, she fain worJd build, 
 
 Unwilling more the storm to tempt. At first 
 
 You should note nothing ; — a few broken twigs 
 
 Lay cross-wise here and there — at intervals 
 
 Another added ; then a little moss. 
 
 Which the kind Rock let fall, was loosely cast 
 
 Amid the pile. At length they shifted round 
 
 To a rude circle, and a tuft of wool, 
 
 Plucked by the envious hedge, was pressed between 
 
58 THE MORNING STAR. 
 
 The angles. Feathers next from moulting doves, 
 Or such as fell beneath the hunters ami,^ 
 Were added ; then a little down^^and thus 
 Warmer and softer grew her bed, till, when 
 The woods were boisterous, she could steal away, 
 And find in her snug cleft a little rest. 
 
 Faint not, Pilgrim, Jesus guards thee, 
 
 Watches o'er thee with an eye 
 Mild and tender as the rainbow, 
 On the flying cloud of su}?wier, 
 Saying " All the wrath is by.'"- 
 
 What though Jordan's raging torrent 
 
 Rolled above thy trembling breast ? 
 Since our Ark those waves divided, 
 Heavens immortal Dove descending, 
 Makes the broken heart His nest. 
 
 Think of sorrow's night no longer : 
 
 Banished all its guilt and gloo?n, 
 Through salvation s crimson portals, 
 Lo ! the Bridegroom of the Alorning 
 
 Floods the blushing soul ivith bloovi ! 
 
 Who is this that conies from Edom, 
 Godlike, der the cringing wave ? 
 
 This with garments red from Bozrah, 
 
 Glorious in His apparel. 
 
 And omnipotent to save ? 
 
THE MORNING STAR , 59 
 
 While with tears His feet we cover ^ 
 
 Kiss them, wipe them with our hair, 
 
 He our souls shall wash all stainless 
 
 In the Fountain of Bethesda — 
 
 In the Fount of Love and Prayer. 
 
 Hark ! what heavenly music welleth 
 From those lips in blessing blest — 
 
 " Come to me, all ye that labor, 
 
 And with grief are heavy laden — 
 Come, and I will give you rest. 
 
 Take my easy yoke upon you. ; 
 
 Bear my burden, it is light, — 
 ^Tis my burden to believe me. 
 On my righteous arm reposing. 
 
 And true love my yoke of might'* 
 
 God be thanked for such a Saviour ! 
 
 God be praised for such a Son I 
 Gentle Shepherd, Thou hast won me — 
 Froi7i Thy fond, pursuing footsteps 
 
 I no more will blindly run. 
 
 At Thy sacred feet reclining. 
 
 Listening to Thy words of cheer. 
 All my sins and woes forgotten. 
 All my empty trusts forsaking, 
 
 Ojtly Thy sweet voice I hear. 
 
 Loving much, as much forgiven. 
 
 Lead ine to our Father s throne^ 
 
60 THE MORNING STAR. 
 
 Let me gaze upon His glory, 
 
 Feed me with Thy truth and beauty, 
 
 Make me all Thine own, Thine own. 
 
 Then Love's willi?ig angel send me 
 
 Where the himgry sigh for bread, 
 Where the weary, captive spirit 
 On the thorny couch of conscience 
 Pillows her despairing head. 
 
 When Thy rod its work has finished, 
 
 Kindest then when most severe, 
 And she fails back on Thy bosom, 
 In her fainting heart L'll whisper, 
 " Now is thy salvation near'' 
 
IV. 
 
 As falls the April rain through boughs long bare, 
 Patters and trickles through the crisp, brown leaves, 
 And, without other answer, sinks away 
 Into the cool, rich earth, till, presently. 
 The sweet anemone her azure eye 
 Unlocks, with timid glance peering between 
 The rough fringe of the autumn's winding-sheet, 
 To see if Spring indeed be come again — 
 So fell Hope's warblings on a pensive heart : 
 There was a rustling of sad memories, 
 A stir of roots long bound with icy chains, 
 A secret swelling of the buds of hope. 
 And silence. 
 
 God fears not that He should haste. 
 A day had closed in tempest ; and a night 
 Of arctic length and gloom, changing from dun 
 To crystalline obscure, studded with stars 
 Whose beams were dagger-points, while the cold moon, 
 Like a weird sentinel, with measured step. 
 Trod round, at intervals, her icy beat, 
 Rolled slowly o'er her spirit. Gallantly, 
 While danced upon the wave one beam of day, 
 
62 THE MORNING STAR. 
 
 She had pressed onward, with heroic zeal, 
 
 To find an open passage 'twixt the dead 
 
 And hving, or a sea by native warmth 
 
 Sustained. Into the icy jaws of Fate 
 
 She drove, till round her groaning bark they closed, 
 
 And made her soul a captive. In a world 
 
 Of darkness and of frost she learned how much 
 
 Of heavenly fire abides in human hearts. 
 
 When from the Sun of Righteousness they turn. 
 
 Slowly new morning dawned, in sober gray 
 
 Advancing, sign of prosperous end ; but cold 
 
 Over the snowy landscape shot the pale 
 
 Intelligential beams, in them no warmth, 
 
 But rather coldness visible, — whereat 
 
 We murmured not, remembering the storm 
 
 When day rose ruddy. Cautious over much, 
 
 I doubt not, we avoided paths once found 
 
 Disastrous, and with diligence pursued 
 
 What shifts for health or happiness Time brought. 
 
 Who fumbled all his pack, with goggled eyes. 
 
 Held up his wares and gilded ornaments. 
 
 And cried his trumpery, admiring much 
 
 He could find nought her either need to suit. 
 
 While thus employed striving to quench the flames 
 Of civil discord in her suffering form, 
 And vv^ondering whereto the late providence 
 Might point, anon, as with the lightning's flash, 
 God rent in twain the gilded veil which masked 
 With lying shows of liberty and peace, 
 
THE MORNING STAR. 63 
 
 A virgin nation's like infirmities, 
 
 And on the world's careening stage led forth 
 
 The actors in a grander tragedy ! 
 
 Mysterious Muse who, to my wondering eyes 
 Holding the mirror of lustrous life, 
 Instructest me therein with awe to read 
 The story of a race by sin enslaved. 
 By grace divine redeemed; attune my harp 
 To sing the rising theme, and show the bond 
 Of high analogy which links the past. 
 Present and future, things of earth with things 
 Above the earth, attesting God supreme 
 Over life's twofold realm. With his left hand 
 He shapes the growth of nations, while his right, 
 Upon the wreck of empires, thrones and states 
 Grown proud and tyrannous, or in the womb 
 Of their protecting orders, nourishes 
 That supermundane Kingdom which, ere long, 
 Will resurrect their broken forms, or change 
 Them living into new and nobler types 
 Of that Celestial Commonwealth where Love 
 With Liberty presides. Whence then the strife 
 Which shook with mortal throes a virgin Realm 
 And drove her from the golden gates of Peace 
 Into war's howling wilderness ? — What cause 
 The contest urged when, maddened to his fall, 
 Oppression's Dragon with hi-s sinuous tail 
 Drew down the third part of Columbia's stars 
 In foul revolt, plunging a continent 
 
64 THE MORNING STAR. 
 
 Beneath the crimson deluge of God's wrath, 
 And pouring men, like nitrous grains, incensed, 
 Into the belching hell of civil war ? 
 
 When from the seeds of Liberty and Light, 
 
 By persecution's storms from the broad oak 
 
 Of Reformation scattered o'er the waste — 
 
 Exiles for conscience sake, in hungry quest 
 
 Of Freedom's bread and air with which to sing 
 
 God's jDraise — a sturdy and truth-loving race 
 
 Had sprung — the jealous British Pharaoh then 
 
 In harsh colonial bondage strove to bow 
 
 The Israel of nations. Long he bore 
 
 The hot indignity till God at length 
 
 His groanings heard, and, with an outstretched arm 
 
 And a high hand, from Egypt led his People, 
 
 In Revolution's bloody sea baptized 
 
 To Freedom, Justice and Fraternity. 
 
 Soon through the wilds of their transition stage 
 They took their march, led by the shining hand 
 Of Providence, and fed with wisdom's dews, 
 Their several Tribes ere long in one firm band 
 Cemented by a solemn covenant, 
 Distinguishing, in members manifold, 
 One organism of United States, 
 After the perfect pattern seen above, 
 Where the great stellar hierarchies join 
 Their shining ranks and orders infinite, 
 Obedient to a universal Code, 
 In one vast Empire, one broad Realm of Light, 
 
THE MORNING STAR, 65 
 
 Where Liberty and Law, in wedded walk 
 
 Bring forth the heavenly harmonies, and build 
 
 The stable mansions of enduring peace. * 
 
 To fashion such an empire here below, 
 
 On pillars of Eternal Justice based, 
 
 God set his hand, but while his finger wrote 
 
 In secret on thought's radiant mountain tops, 
 
 The People, slipping faith in Righteousness 
 
 And Freedom, bowed before their Golden Calf — 
 
 To Slavery and Carnal Policy 
 
 Bending the supple knee. " These be thy gods 
 
 O Land of Liberty ! " they cried, and joined 
 
 In merry dance around their brave Device, 
 
 Hastening to rivet on the hapless slave 
 
 The fetters wrenched from their harsh stepdame's grasp. 
 
 Soon to another tune they marched, soon drank. 
 
 In tears. Oppression's bitter dust, which bred 
 
 Intestine conflicts and became thenceforth 
 
 A deadly poison in the nation's blood, 
 
 Working far down beneath the seeming flush 
 
 Of health and beauty to corrupt the streams 
 
 Of honor, righteousness and faith. Full hot 
 
 The contest raged, threatening with utter ruin 
 
 The life of that apostate Commonwealth : 
 
 But interceding love prevailed, at length, 
 
 To win from God a respite of the doom 
 
 Inevitably that day sealed. The Law 
 
 Engraved on tables mutable, by man 
 
 Prepared, safely within its Golden Ark 
 
66 THE MORNING STAR. 
 
 Reposed, and in the Tabernacle framed 
 By human industry and skill divine. 
 
 Onward they moved beneath Heaven's sheltering cloud, 
 
 Spreading their tents afar o'er mount and plain ; 
 
 But when in prospect of the final triumph 
 
 Of Universal Liberty they stood, 
 
 The dust of that base idol turned their feet 
 
 From Freedom's golden gates and warlike toil 
 
 Back to the howling wilderness. Pursued 
 
 By haughty Amorites they fled, nor staid 
 
 Their march, till almost to Egyptian bondage 
 
 And infamy returned. Twice forty years 
 
 From their approach to Liberty's fair shores, — 
 
 Repeating sin and doubling its account, — 
 
 They wandered in the dismal wilderness 
 
 Of sectional animosity and strife. 
 
 Where Korah lifted his rebellious head. 
 
 Sowing dissensions, and fire, dearth and plague 
 
 Wasted at noonday, till the very springs 
 
 Of Freedom ceased their flow, and the strong arm, 
 
 Chosen to shield the weak and innocent 
 
 From the oppressor, laid redoubled blows 
 
 On Liberty's grieved breast, commanding men 
 
 Formed in God's image to forget their rank, 
 
 And turn slave-hunters for the nation's foes. 
 
 Then from the riven Rock poured forth fresh streams 
 Of spirit-stirring eloquence, whereof 
 Both all the people and their cattle drank, 
 Until that ignominous flight was changed 
 
THE MORNING STAR. 6 J 
 
 To a more sure advance. But from that hour 
 
 Death waved his sceptre over the doomed state 
 
 Whose Law and Government unworthy proved 
 
 To lead the hosts of Freedom to their rest. 
 
 Wherefore God smote them with a breach, and called 
 
 The Higher Law of Justice, Truth and Right, 
 
 Ordained in Heaven, to be His People's guide, 
 
 And a fit chief and standard-bearers chose — 
 
 A Joshua indeed, o'er diffident 
 
 Of his appointed task, till thrice the Lord 
 
 And People cried, " Be strong ! lead on ! be strong ! " 
 
 Then firm and faithful as a rugged oak 
 
 That on some breezy height, conspicuous 
 
 Above the smoke of battle, calmly fronts 
 
 The molten storm, and waves its country's flag, 
 
 Till victory's eagle perches on its boughs, 
 
 When a stray shell from the retreating foe, 
 
 With envy charged, severs its noble trunk. 
 
 And lays its honors with the martyred brave. 
 
 So led, the youthful host of Liberty 
 
 Moved on, nor backward turned, till Freedom's Ark 
 
 Touched Jordan's foaming waves, when lo ! where seemed 
 
 No way of progress through opposing bounds 
 
 Of law and judgment, suddenly the floods 
 
 In wrath divided, leaving ample space 
 
 For the slow-moving columns to advance, 
 
 And bear to triumph through the open grave 
 
 Of dissolution, the Immortal Cause 
 
 Of Freedom, Justice and Humanity. 
 
68 THE MORNING STAR. 
 
 But only half the mighty task is' done. 
 
 The harder part remains — to circumcise 
 
 The heart of a great nation from the blot 
 
 Of its iniquities and consecrate 
 
 Freedom's polluted Temple to its high 
 
 And sacred offices, ordained by Heaven 
 
 To be a Refuge for the desolate, 
 
 An House of Prayer and Praise for all the oppressed. 
 
 Now pours the costly chrism on a Land 
 
 Reeking with bondmen's and mother's tears ! 
 
 The cup of her iniquity at last 
 
 Brims o'er I — rank blasphemy its fatal seal 
 
 Fixes on Treason's heaven-defying front ! 
 
 The stone chosen of God is set at nought, 
 
 And an apostate temple boldly reared 
 
 On the dark mire and sands of Slavery ! 
 
 Loose the four winds, O Angels I — from the North, 
 
 East, West and South, gather the scowling clouds, 
 
 Freighted with thunderbolts and battering hail. 
 
 Reserved against the day of wrath ! Make broad 
 
 Destruction's wings ! for not the Sunny Climes 
 
 Alone are guilty — the whole Head is sick, 
 
 And the whole Heart is faint ; — both Government 
 
 And People have joined hands, in impious league, 
 
 To bind the chain upon God's helpless poor ; 
 
 Now let them join, perforce, to loosen it, 
 
 Led by a Master's hand. What gratitude 
 
 To man is due, still faithless, seeking still 
 
 An earthly rather than a heavenly crown ? — 
 
 For who in Freedom's tremblins; court or van 
 
THE MORNING STAR. 69 
 
 Dares yet strike boldly for the topmost cause 
 Of Universal Brotherhood ? For Law, 
 Security and Union, to the storm 
 They fling the Patriot Banner, leaving God, 
 Through His accustomed ways, dark and profound, 
 To lead their footsteps to a loftier goal ! 
 
 On mountain, shore and plain, through wood and vale, 
 
 O'er seas and the sea-swelling arteries 
 
 The burning vengeance wasted ! Granite walls 
 
 Fell prone before the soul-dividing blast 
 
 Of thunder-throated trumpets belching doom, 
 
 And walls of flesh rolled down before the scythe 
 
 Of the Great Reaper on his iron car. 
 
 Death staggered with his burden, and the Grave 
 
 Sickened of royal diet ! Brazen isles. 
 
 Floating invulnerable through Hell's red jaws, 
 
 Like risen Titans scoured the fated coast, 
 
 And from volcanic bowels spouting, showered 
 
 Comets and earthquakes and hot thunderbolts, 
 
 Till tattered cities bent their bleeding knees 
 
 And plead for mercy ! Night grew hideous 
 
 With howling meteors, from the fiery hair 
 
 Of Mars shook off, that, like a thousand fiends, 
 
 Shrieked o'er the doomed and trembling capitols 
 
 Of rebel states, till, bursting from beneath. 
 
 Capped with the lurid ghosts of dying fanes, 
 
 A billowy sea of fire lashed the red wings 
 
 Of the retreating Darkness. Wide and deep 
 
 The bloody scourge invaded, making search 
 
 For the rebellious core ; but, hydra-like, 
 
70 THE MORNING STAR. 
 
 Still round his lair the scaly monster rolled, 
 From flaming mouth and eyes defiance flashed ' 
 On Freedom's toiling armies, or swept back 
 The battle's living waves, and in his harsh 
 And torturing folds his hapless victims ground ! 
 
 Why stand the hosts of Liberty at bay ? 
 
 Or backward fly, frantic with maiden fear, 
 
 Before their puny foes, so late despised ? 
 
 Why w^aste in fruitless dashes such array 
 
 Of might and valor as, in Freedom's cause, 
 
 Should breast a frowning World ? Have they too spared 
 
 The Accursed Thing which a just God has doomed 
 
 To swift destruction ? Ah, dissembling Nation ! 
 
 There is an Eye which penetrates thy sin, 
 
 And will reveal thy poverty and strength ! 
 
 '' Deck now thyself with majesty and beauty ! 
 
 Array thyself with excellence and glory ! 
 
 O fair and puissant Virgin ! cast abroad 
 
 The fury of thy wrath ! look on the proud 
 
 And bring him low ! the wicked in their place 
 
 Tread down, and bind their faces in the dust 
 
 Together ! then will I confess to thee 
 
 That thy right hand can save thee ! " 
 
 Vain, all vain 
 Those gallant struggles while that secret sin 
 Lurks in her tortured breast ! A devil armed 
 With mortal sting, sits like an incubus 
 Upon her panting bosom, draws her breath, 
 And twines his tightening coil around her soul ! 
 Dizzy with circling marches, half entranced 
 
THE MORNING STAR, 7 1 
 
 By some mysterious spell, prone on her couch 
 Of agony, at the grave's mouth she lies, 
 Inebriate with her dream of liberty 
 And self-redemption by the stalwart arm 
 Of her own virtue, or in blank despair 
 And dumb amazement lost ! 
 
 Then Israel 
 Bowed low before the Lord, and honor gave 
 To His potential Name, acknowledging 
 God only glorious, in whose regard 
 The nations of the Earth are but as dust, 
 The fine dust of that balance in which Truth 
 And Equity are weighed before His saints. 
 And found more pondrous than a thousand states, 
 With pride inflated, or by cruelty 
 Made odious in His sight. 
 
 Up ! Joshua, 
 And quit thee like a man ! No longer trust 
 In strength of mortal arm, nor longer plead 
 With empty hands, but load the rising prayer 
 With honest penitence, and mercy shown 
 To the oppressed, and justice to the foes 
 Alike of God and man ! Stretch forth the arm, 
 Power-girded, of a living faith, to save 
 A gallant nation from the blinding curse 
 Of Slavery ! Give to the instant flames 
 That ruthless monster which so long has spoiled 
 Freedom's fair heritage, laid waste her strength, 
 Defiled her glory, and, at last, with tears 
 Of blood, deluged a weary continent ! 
 
72 THE MORNING STAR. 
 
 'Tis done I Now Glory be to God on High ! 
 
 And on Earth Peace ! — when the abating storm 
 
 Of war has done its work ! Lo ! as the Dove 
 
 Goes fluttering forth from Freedom's rolHng Ark, 
 
 Bearing the Mandate of Deliverance 
 
 To a down-trodden People, from his seat, 
 
 High on God's finger perched, waiting the sign, 
 
 Down swoops the Golden Bird of Victory, 
 
 And hastens where the waves of battle roar 
 
 Round Freedom's trailing flag ! Ere long the winds 
 
 Shift to the north, and with convergent weight 
 
 Sweep down the crested billows ! The strong arm 
 
 Of the fraternal North is firmly drawn 
 
 Around the brave and beauteous South, fast bound 
 
 In the Oppressor's toils ! The grizzly jaws 
 
 Of War begin resistlessly to close 
 
 Around the writhing Monster, till, at last. 
 
 In one terrific blaze, his prostrate length 
 
 Sinks hissing down beneath Hell's roaring flood, 
 
 While joyful millions cloud the heavens with thanks, 
 
 Whereon, as in celestial chariots, rise 
 
 To constellated mansions of renown. 
 
 The raptured spirits of the Patriot Dead ! 
 
 Purged now of inward as of outward bonds, 
 
 Up Canaan's flowery hills, with modest step. 
 
 The resurrected Empire of the Free 
 
 Shall take her march, on deeds of glory bent, 
 
 Above renown and the vain glare of arms, — 
 
 To captivate, with the resistless might 
 
 Of virtue and beneficence, the hearts 
 
THE MORNING STAR, 73 
 
 Of kings and peoples, winning them from strife, 
 
 Envy and self-aggrandizement to deeds 
 
 Of Christlike chivalry, and arts divine, 
 
 Of peace and love, till, to her utmost bounds. 
 
 The ransomed Earth shall own fair Freedom's sway. 
 
 Hail, radiant Star of Dawn ! chosen of God, 
 
 With thy auspicious sign, to lead the van 
 
 Of Freedom's Golden Age ! Hail, Virgin Queen 
 
 Of Nations, twice baptized to keep the law 
 
 Of Liberty and Justice ! Fairer now, 
 
 In thy humility, when from the shades 
 
 Of dissolution and of judgment drawn. 
 
 Than when ambition's laurels chilled thy brow. 
 
 Go meekly on thy course, trusting no more 
 
 In human strength or skill, but in the Arm 
 
 Omnipotent of Righteousness and Truth 
 
 And all-prevailing Love, whose golden yoke 
 
 Shall henceforth bind thee in fraternal league 
 
 With sister States and Empires nobler grown, 
 
 Through thy benignant ministries. The cross 
 
 For yet a season thou shalt bear, weighed down 
 
 By the sore fruits of disobedience. 
 
 While on thy sympathizing breast are laid 
 
 A World's vast sorrows — all the gathered ills 
 
 Of suffering Humanity, what time 
 
 The poor and the oppressed of other lands 
 
 Flock to the free and bounteous shores ! All hail ! ' 
 
 Sweet Land of Promise ! To the bowing heavens 
 
 Thy golden mountains lift, with honor clothed, 
 
 As with a saintly robe, and o'er the seas. 
 
74 THE MORNING STAR. 
 
 Wave thy celestial Banner in all winds, 
 Proclaiming Liberty, man's birth-right, won 
 For each of Adam's exiled, wandering race 
 That cools his brow beneath the starry Flag 
 Of Freedom, Justice and Fraternity ! 
 
 Hark I as the lightning from shore to shore 
 
 Flashes abroad the solemn warnings 
 Mountain and plain with its thunders roar 
 
 And glitter with mailed adorning ! 
 Up I for the dream of peace is o'er ! 
 Freedom hath grasped her sword of might ! 
 God of battles defend the right, 
 
 And hasten the brighter morning — 
 When the strife of sivord and tongue shall cease, 
 And the Lord of Hosts reign Prince of Peace I 
 
 Flag of the Free, once more unfold 
 
 Proudly thy galaxy of wonder I 
 And tell the tale thou hast ever told 
 
 In the battle smoke and thunder ! — 
 Strong is the arm, and the heart is bold 
 That marshals 'neath thy conquering light. 
 To strike for the cause of Truth and Right, 
 
 And cleave the wrong asunder I — 
 And hasten the day when war shall cease. 
 And the Lord of Hosts reign Prince of Peace I 
 
 Land of the brave and noble-born I 
 
 Land of the mountain, plain and river ! 
 
 Ne'er be thy locks of glory shorn. 
 By the hand which thee would sever I 
 
THE MORNING STAR, 75 
 
 From Evening s gates to the sunny Morn 
 Through all thy breadth let Justice diuell, 
 And Freedonis God shall guard thee well^ 
 
 And bless thy name forever ! — 
 And the wrong and the woe and the strife shall cease, 
 And the Lord of Hosts reign Prince of Peace I 
 
 Salem of Rest and Liberty I 
 
 Fair is thy seat on pleasai2t waters ! 
 Kings thy nursing -sires shall be, 
 
 And queens shall rear thy daughters I 
 Lengthen thy cords from sea to sea I 
 Strengthen thy stakes I— they come ! they co77ie ! — 
 EartJis houseless wanderers are hastening home, 
 
 Weary of bofids and slaughters ! — 
 Here let the conflict of ages cease, 
 And the Lord of Hosts reign Prince of Peace ! 
 
ODAY of Hope and Prophecy ! long sought 
 With fainting eyes, and but in vision seen ! 
 How many times shall the soft-rolling wheels 
 That bring thee toward this Arctic Zone retire, 
 With but a widening twilight for each age ? 
 Six times have Eve and Morn alternate held 
 Millennial course o'er this degenerate Ball, 
 Which the Omnific Word is laboring 
 To recreate, — feeble, at first, the dawn, 
 Ere long in thick and palpable darkness quenched ;- 
 All save a solitary star of hope 
 In the preserving Ark of Mercy borne, 
 Floating above the sullen sea of death. 
 At each vast revolution broader grew 
 The auroral radiance, until the Sun 
 Touched the horizon on the fourth glad morn, 
 But sank, ere long, behind the frigid mass 
 Of glacial humanity. At length 
 The rising glory spread into the North, 
 And tinged the Old World to its farthest bound, 
 O'erflowing westward, where, amid the wastes 
 Of a New World, trodden by savage men. 
 
THE MORNING STAR. 77 
 
 God had prepared a garden, round enclosed 
 By sea and mountain barriers, and, within, 
 Watered by four great river-systems, — one 
 To westward, compassing the Land of Gold, 
 To southward, one round Ethiopia poured, 
 A third bordering the winged lion's realms, 
 And flowing northward, while the fourth pursues 
 Southeasterly its course, and irrigates 
 The fertile slopes of that broad Paradise 
 Which the Lord planted on the eastern limb 
 Of Eden, with all trees of pleasant fruit 
 Adorned, and in the midst the Tree of Life, 
 Among the various goodly institutes 
 Preeminent, and, not far off, the tree 
 Of baleful operation, which bestows 
 Knowledge of good and evil — Policy. 
 Here the Creator, having brought the Man 
 Of godlike faculties and soul mature 
 For rational exercise, composed from all 
 The finer issues of each former age. 
 Commanded him to dress and keep the Land 
 For a perpetual heritage and home 
 Of Liberty and Love. Only huge beasts 
 Had Earth brought forth till now, chiefly intent 
 On prey and provender — self-interest 
 Their only law, acknowledged without shame 
 By men who call those nations and themselves 
 Christian ! But works more worthy of that name 
 Shall soon be seen — nations in which the breath 
 Of the Creator shall infuse a soul 
 Of generosity, and godlike zeal 
 For justice and the general franchisement. 
 
78 THE MORNING STAR. 
 
 What here befel Heaven's offspring hath in part 
 Been shown — how Eve, by Satan's arts beguiled, 
 Tasted the fruit of Carnal Policy, 
 And saw her offspring rolled in guilt and blood : 
 How Adam shared her sin and punishment 
 Shall now appear as Thought, discursive, soars 
 Above the wilderness, where Zion's host, 
 Flying from stripes and bondage in the Old, 
 Their Land of Promise sought in the New World. 
 
 Lo ! scarcely had the lips of Deity 
 
 From Zion's mount proclaimed the sacred law 
 
 Of Freedom, Unity and Love, — one Head 
 
 Reigning o'er many members bound by faith 
 
 And brotherly affection in a free 
 
 And spiritual Body, — than the Tribes 
 
 Again bowed low before the Golden Calf, 
 
 Trusting by human righteousness and power 
 
 To gain their promised haven. Then the sword 
 
 Of the Dividing Angel from the cloud 
 
 Of God's enkindling wrath like lightning flashed, 
 
 Severing son from sire, and friend from friend. 
 
 Of all that rebel throng. Incompetent, 
 
 When to the very gates of Peace arrived 
 
 To enter Faith's inheritance through faith, 
 
 By fear and grief distracted, they returned 
 
 Into the waste and desolate wilderness 
 
 Of social anarchy, assunder cleft 
 
 In every member by the entering wedge 
 
 Of dissolution. Into Old and New, 
 
 Conservative, Progressive, Liberal 
 
THE MORNING STAR. 79 
 
 And Orthodox, they fell, still compassing 
 The mount of Carnal Ordinance, by fire, 
 Dearth, famine, pestilence and serpent fangs 
 Consumed. Full forty years their doleful march, 
 Under the sway of Moses, they pursued, 
 Learning the minor mandates of the Law, 
 Ere to his couch the stern Preceptor turned, 
 Leaving his task unfinished. But at length 
 God gave his rod to Joshua, transformed 
 Into a shepherd's crook, wherewith, e'en now, 
 The heavenly Leader gathers Zion's flocks 
 And scattered armies for a new advance. 
 And as the massing columns, rank by rank, 
 Emerging from the Wilderness, with songs 
 And hallelujahs greet the rising Day, 
 The cloud of God's mysterious Providence, 
 Touched with the rainbow tints of Charity, 
 Moves onward and condenses to a star. 
 Beyond the mists of Jordan, whose dark waves 
 Begin to blush, and swiftly fall away. 
 Before the Ark of Zion's liberties. 
 
 But what if Deep shall call to answering Deep, 
 And Heaven, like Earth, send forth its waterspouts ? 
 What if those states in Zion most redeemed. 
 And joining to advance the sacred cause 
 Of spiritual enfranchisement, be met. 
 Mid way, by the confederated powers 
 Of darkness and oppression, bearing rule, 
 Through ignorance, o'er the deluded serfs 
 Beguiled to ruin by an Oligarchy 
 
8o THE MORNING STAR. 
 
 Of petty lords and tyrants, not content 
 With present sway, but eager to extend 
 The reahii of bondage, till the kindling skies 
 Blaze with such strife as reddened eartli of late, 
 When Freedom with her wily Dragon toiled ? 
 
 Such conflict waits the militant Bride of Christ — 
 Whether with carnal or with spiritual arms — 
 Before her final victory o'er Pride, 
 Oppression, Avarice and Unbelief, — 
 As many as the populous tribes of Ham 
 That vexed the Promised Land, or rebel states 
 In Freedom's fair domain. But when the storm 
 Roars loudest, and the billows highest dash 
 O'er Freedom's trembling Ark, let Zion's hosts 
 Rejoice, for their deliverance is at hand ! 
 Then shall it boldly be proclaimed that all 
 Who stand in God's fair image, whether Jew 
 Or Oreek, Barbarian, Scythian, bond or free, 
 Are brethren, each of all, entitled thence 
 To suffrage in the councils of that State, 
 Whose Lord is the Elect of Earth and Heaven. 
 So shall the waves of strife increasing first 
 Their dying rage and strength, begin to fail. 
 
 Truth's burial is its planting in the soil 
 
 Of the blood-watered conscience. Thrice the Day 
 
 And Night weep over it, and lo ! the grave 
 
 Is suddenly a shrine where emulous throngs 
 
 Pay rival honors to the star-crowned King, 
 
 Eternal, henceforth, and immortal knov»m ! 
 
THE MORNING STAR, 8 1 
 
 At midnight, when the New Jerusalem 
 
 Is compassed round with armies, when the World 
 
 Rejoices, and the saints in darkness weep. 
 
 When Sin grows bold, and Infidelity 
 
 Struts in the stolen garb of Truth, when love 
 
 Seems hate, and Reason grows irrational, 
 
 And the restraining arm of secular power 
 
 Must needs be added to the sober voice 
 
 Of Reason and Humanity, to save 
 
 Distraught Religion from the yawning gulf 
 
 Of dissolution, anarchy and strife, — 
 
 Then shall the joyful cry at last be heard, 
 
 '^ Behold the Bridegroom cometh with his Bride ! " 
 
 Then shall the Lamb on Zion's top be seen, — 
 His chariot by a stalwart griffon drawn, — 
 Leading to final victory his hosts, 
 In twelve vast corps invincibly arrayed, — 
 An hundred four and forty thousand saints 
 That have not bowed before the Beast, or borne 
 His mark, but on their shining brows, instead, 
 The Father's name is written — the bright seal 
 Of life and immortality ; — and fair 
 Above them in the roseate skies shall wave 
 The Starry Banner of the saints, emblazed 
 With Faith, Hope, Charity, the triune flame 
 Of heavenly Liberty's bright Morning Star. 
 So led, and in Truth's armor panoplied. 
 They shall advance, shouting the battle song 
 Of " Liberty and Union " till the walls 
 Of earth-defying Babylon, begirt 
 
82 THE MORNING STAR. 
 
 With the consuming fires of Love, and roar 
 Interminable of Truth's artillery, 
 Prostrate shall fall, amid the mingled shouts 
 Of angels and of men, to rise no more ! 
 
 How long is theme for guessing this side Heaven, — 
 
 A task not wholly profitless perhaps. 
 
 Since thus the watchmen's eyes are kept alert, — 
 
 Unless while gazing upward to behold 
 
 The Son of Man descending from the clouds 
 
 Of an external heas^en, we fail to note 
 
 His surer advent through the breaking mists 
 
 Of human ignorance and doubt, in light 
 
 Excelling Nature's glory. Thus of old, 
 
 When Zion's hard-pressed legions strained their eyes 
 
 To see the archangel with his flaming torch, 
 
 I>ike a fierce comet with long, smoky train, 
 
 Sweep through the Empyrean to ignite 
 
 This withered Bog, behold, instead, all Hell 
 
 Broke loose and rushing on the frantic Church 
 
 Scattering her altars to the winds ! But lo ! 
 
 'Mid disappointment and apparent wreck 
 
 Begins the expected miracle ! Each coal 
 
 Dashed in mad fury from Immanuel's shrine 
 
 Becomes a torch in the transparent hands 
 
 Of winged firemen, kindling where it falls, 
 
 In the dry grass of an idolatrous age. 
 
 Till the Old World in a red winding-sheet 
 
 Is wrapped, and from their worshipped seats in Heaven. 
 
 The Dragon, with his mythic deities, 
 
 Falls headlong to the howling deep. From thence 
 
THE MORNING STAR. 83 
 
 He issued forth ere long in new attire, 
 
 As when, though once in the Red Sea o'erwhelmed, 
 
 He rose and followed after Jacob's sons, 
 
 A Golden Calf. Now from the sea he rose 
 
 A full-grown Beast, with seven usurping heads, 
 
 Armed with ten horns of persecuting power, 
 
 Wherewith he pushed the saints of the Most High 
 
 From their inheritance, and drowned the Earth 
 
 In darkness : — Truth and Reason were eclipsed, 
 
 And the World walked in grave-clothes 'mid the tombs 
 
 Of the Dead Ages ! 
 
 But while Death and Hell 
 Gloated in triumph o'er the horrid wreck 
 Of a world's blasted hope. Time struck the hour 
 Of morning watch, and straight a ruddy star 
 Rose like a rocket in the northern sky. 
 And like a bursting meteor flung its sparks 
 O'er half the hemisphere ! Anon the flames 
 Of Reformation caught in the dry grass 
 And withered leaves, as when, in Autumn sere, 
 A locomotive roars along the vales. 
 Leading the train of Progress, and from forth 
 Its toiling furnace spouts contagious fire, 
 Which sends the ghost of the dead Year to Heaven, 
 Careering on the smoke of burning hills ! 
 So the dry empire of the Latin Beast 
 Began to smoke along its northern front 
 When Michael placed the torch of Liberty 
 In Luther's stalwart grasp, denying works 
 Of imitation, or of man's conceit, 
 As purchase price of Heaven, whose single key, 
 
84 THE MORNING STAR. 
 
 Sufficient to command the golden bolts, 
 
 Is naked Faith, effectual through Love 
 
 To works of Righteousness. What wonder Rome 
 
 Bellowed with rage when this great corner stone 
 
 Of Liberty's fair Temple, without hands 
 
 From Zion's mountain cut, fell on the toes 
 
 Of the huge image of adulterous Power, 
 
 And they began to crumble, proving soon 
 
 They were but half iron and half potter's clay ! 
 
 Dawn chases Night, and Evening treads on Dawn, 
 
 Wheel within wheel of being's spiral march 
 
 From darkness and inanity to God ! 
 
 And so it came that the fell Beast whose head 
 
 Was wounded unto death, renewed his life, 
 
 With lengthened lease of power, and added sway, 
 
 What time protesting nations turned to lick 
 
 Their vomit, and impose their cast-off yoke 
 
 On riper protestants, till to the first 
 
 A second beast was joined, from the dry earth 
 
 Of sacerdotal pride and bigotry, 
 
 With lamb-like aspect but a dragon's voice, 
 
 From out whose minor horn issued a score 
 
 Of fragmentary and contentious sects. 
 
 Each bleating for a season with fair show 
 
 Of meekness, and loud cries for liberty, 
 
 Until, good footing gained, at once it wheeled 
 
 And pushed all non-conformists to the wall, 
 
 With a most catholic and puritan zeal 
 
 For undefiled religion. 
 
 Virgin names 
 There are, written in gold in the Lamb's book. 
 
THE MORNING STAR . 85 
 
 Which are not blotted by the impious mark 
 Of the Oppressor. These upon their brows 
 Wore Love's celestial seal : but for the most, 
 Though faggot, ax and dungeon slowly fled 
 The rising day, Satan but changed his suit, 
 As he knows how, to fit the ruling mode. 
 Still plying his infernal rack and torch. 
 With sanctimonious zest, to heart and hope 
 And name. As finer grows the social warp 
 Finer he spins his woof, but still of goat 
 And leopard's hair, mingled with stolen wool 
 To hide the cheat. 
 
 What differs whether Pope 
 Or Parliament, Court or Conventicle 
 Decree the pattern unto which the mind 
 Must cut its thoughts ? What matter, whether fire 
 Or malediction be the penalty 
 For looking through one's own eyes at the sun ? 
 Is it not persecution ? Veil thy face 
 Aholibah, Aholah is outdone, 
 For thou hast sinned against the greater light ! 
 Hast thou not bowed to graven images. 
 And paid thy homage to a hundred saints ? 
 And in the name of Virgin Mother Church — 
 Still maculate, spite all the honors shown 
 By God and man — sought favor at Heaven's bar, 
 While nailing each new prophet to his cross ? 
 How augur'st thou that Rome is Babylon, 
 While thy self-righteous zeal is building high 
 The Babel of thy shame ? Enough has Rome 
 To wail for at the Grand Assize, but who 
 
86 THE MORNING STAR. 
 
 Shall stand as her accuser ? Thou raayst learn 
 In Jordan's depths, ere then, to pity her, 
 And drop the stone from thy adulterous hand. 
 
 Kno\Y then that Babylon is Mystery^ 
 
 The blindness of man's inner consciousness, 
 
 Who seeing truth but dimly through a veil 
 
 Of perishable forms, and deeming these 
 
 Part of the heavenly substance, jealously 
 
 Fights for their maintenance, as one who finds 
 
 His body threatened, and, in ignorance 
 
 Of its light value to the indwelling soul. 
 
 Defiles the diamond to preserve its case. 
 
 There Satan builds his stronghold, and from thence 
 
 Cannot be routed till man's spiritual eye. 
 
 By the long action of o'erbrooding light. 
 
 And Charity's balsamic anodynes. 
 
 Has grown so subtle as ta penetrate 
 
 Each fading guise and see Truth face to face. 
 
 Hereto the ages tend, exchanging still 
 
 Ruder for finer symbols — stocks and stones 
 
 For altars and mysterious rites, and these, 
 
 At length, for verbal representatives. 
 
 Or letter types, that in the womb of Thought, 
 
 Imagination, form the needful eggs 
 
 Of Knowledge, which, by Truth's essential flame 
 
 Impregnated, brings the angelic birth 
 
 Of heaven-aspiring Sentiments and Thoughts. 
 
THE MORNING STAR. Z'J 
 
 Many stout daughters hath this haughty Queen 
 
 Who builds her cruel house in every land ; 
 
 But paler grows its shadow to the west 
 
 Where Freedom's rival Empire brightest shines. 
 
 As when men speak of " Yankees " in New York, 
 
 They mean their neighbors o'er the Eastern line, 
 
 Southward, " those Vandals of the North," abroad, 
 
 This whole sharp-witted and industrious hive — 
 
 So Babylon to Englishmen means Rome ; 
 
 To Puritans England holds rival claims ; 
 
 Toward other non-conformists, Puritans 
 
 Knew how to play the beast with pious role ; 
 
 And these in turn their heretics pursued. 
 
 With solemn frenzy of misguided zeal, 
 
 Till e'en those hornless lambs that loudest rang 
 
 The bells of Liberty, their lofty creed, 
 
 "God manifest in all," if any dared 
 
 Wed a fair " Gentile," wake the harp's glad soul, 
 
 Or but look on when "hireling priests " gave aid 
 
 At lover's leap, could gently join their heads. 
 
 And hoist them o'er the wall — for charity ! 
 
 And when you rise at last o'er time's dark mists — 
 
 You that are hot in censure of these wrongs — 
 
 And wash your eyes in Canaan's crystal springs, 
 
 I doubt not such a cloud will be removed, 
 
 And fall back, like a mantle, o'er the Avorld. 
 
 Your angel shall exclaim, " O, Babylon ! 
 
 I too have been thy citizen, and helped 
 
 To build Oppression's towering walls, and rear 
 
 The hanging gardens of Self-righteousness ! 
 
 But now, thank God, they are all fallen, fallen ! 
 
SS THE MORNING STAR. 
 
 How long, O Lord, how long ? Two thousand years, 
 
 Wanting a few, has the mysterious plea 
 
 Of thy Devoted One rung in thine ears — 
 
 " That they may all be one, as Thou in me, 
 
 Father, and I in Thee, that they may all 
 
 Be one in us." Alas, what mean those words ? 
 
 For this have we been fighting many an age ! 
 
 For this have poured out our brothers' blood, 
 
 And shed our own like rain, to make all men 
 
 Unite in one loud anthem to thy praise, 
 
 Without a jarring note to vex thine ear, 
 
 Or medley of discordant parts ! But lo ! 
 
 The more we struggle wilder grows the strain 
 
 With angry discords, till Thy Temple roars 
 
 With jargon such as scattered men of old, 
 
 When pride and infidelity combined 
 
 To build an earthen stairway to the skies ! 
 
 What do we more, who strive with blood-stained hands 
 
 To build a Mansion for the Prince of Peace, — 
 
 Use anger for cement, and hate for gold ! 
 
 Who stretch forth mortal hands unsanctified. 
 
 To stay that Ark which is the stay of worlds ! 
 
 Who, having tuned our dulcimer and harp 
 
 To please our own ear, go about to break 
 
 Our neighbors' lute and cymbal ! — if our throats 
 
 Pipe treble, will have lions pinch their lungs 
 
 To warble with the wren ! Well have we tried, 
 
 O star-crowned Minstrel ! what our hands can do 
 
 To mend the thunder-organ of Thy world. 
 
 On which Thy spirit, breathing peace or storm. 
 
THE MORNING STAR. 89 
 
 Brings forth such mingled melody our ears 
 Can scarce discern the air ! Forgive ! forgive ! 
 And lend us grace and wisdom to expound 
 Our own, and leave to Thee the master's part ! 
 
 " That they may all be one ! " — ah ! He said not 
 " Like one ! " That were a doleful house indeed 
 Which had but one continuous honeycomb 
 Of cells, however filled with cloying sweets ! 
 How tedious were the walks of Paradise, 
 If bordered all their length with banks of rose ! 
 Only that robe is white in which the dyes 
 Of the seven great archangels sweetly blend ! 
 Mark with what infinitely varied grace 
 God clothes his beauteous form in Nature's vest ! 
 And would ye paint His Daughter like a mole, 
 Or a bronze statue ? Hence ! ye daubs, nor dare 
 To touch His darling with your whitewash brush, 
 And your unhallowed mixtures ! In the heart 
 Dwells the true rouge, by love's quick chemistry 
 Prepared. Not all the creeds in Babylon, 
 With all the garnish on St. Peter's walls, 
 Can make the Bride of Jesus half so fair 
 As one sweet deed of humble charity ! 
 
 If thou would'st have all men with thee agreed, 
 Agree with all. Who bade thee take this seat 
 Above thy brethren, and assume the guide 
 Of faith and conscience ? If thou art our judge, 
 Show thy credentials. What ! this mouldy scrip, 
 
90 THE MORNING STAR. 
 
 Soiled with the dust of ages ? Did He say, 
 
 " By this shall all men ray disciple know ? " 
 
 What if thy father were an Abraham, 
 
 And thou a Judas ? is thy bishopric 
 
 Inalienable ? '* If any will be chief, 
 
 Let him become a servant unto all." 
 
 Where then is Israel's lord ? Were there not twelve 
 
 Born to one Father, all whom he did serve 
 
 As doth a mother, and bestow his life. 
 
 To prove that Love must rule by his own force. 
 
 And that true sovereignty dwells underneath 
 
 The governed, as the root beneath the tree ? 
 
 " One Father, even God ; one Master, Christ ; 
 
 And many brethren peers : "^on this firm stone 
 
 Rests the broad Temple of man's Liberties, 
 
 And though the rains descend, and tempests roar, 
 
 And torrents thunder round its steadfast base, 
 
 Time's latest age shall see its crystal sheen 
 
 Expanding over continents and seas, 
 
 While resurrected states and empires free, 
 
 With homes innumerable of peace and love, 
 
 Securely rest beneath its ample dome ! 
 
 Arm you, therefore, O Patriots of the Cross, 
 Who shrink not from such title to a crown, 
 But not with carnal weapons ! If the foe 
 Invite the civil arm, that arm shall cure 
 His madness ; but to you belongs the task • 
 Of routing Principalities and Powers 
 
THE MORNING STAR. 9 1 
 
 Intrenched in servile ignorance and fear 
 And superstition, fortresses more strong 
 Than ancient Babylon's imperious walls ! 
 Your gateway is the lowly river-bed 
 Of self-denying love. Go, turn aside 
 Euphrates, with a million humble aqts 
 Of kind humanity, then enter in 
 Bearing the Banner of Redeeming Love, 
 Truth's two-edged sword, Faith's shield, and the breast- 
 plate 
 Of Righteousness, defense more sure than brass, 
 Salvation's helmet, and upon your feet 
 Those golden sandals, Liberty and Peace ! 
 
 As when an iceberg rolling from the coast 
 
 Of glittering, stark and cold formalities, 
 
 Encounters the Gulf Stream, and, with it, shower 
 
 Of tropic arrows from the noonday sun, 
 
 Soon the pent spirit in its pores begins 
 
 To ask more room ; spar after spar falls off, 
 
 Limb after limb breaks from the rigid mass. 
 
 And, melting, mingles with the joyous sea. 
 
 Whose free glad waves clasp hands around the world — ■ 
 
 So shall Oppression's frigid walls dissolve 
 
 In the approaching summer heats of time*! 
 
 Then shall come Love's espousals ; then all souls 
 
 Inspired with a divine benignity. 
 
 And crowned with Charity's celestial flame, 
 
 Shall flow into the vital harmonies 
 
 And free organic unities of Heaven ! 
 
92 THE MORNING STAR. 
 
 To vitalize the void, phlegmatic mass 
 
 Of Nature, and her warring elements 
 
 Reduce to order, harmony and grace, 
 
 By the infusion of a nobler life, 
 
 Imparted from His all-creative Word, 
 
 Was God's first labor, then for rest exchanged 
 
 When her machinery, in order set. 
 
 Began to quiver to His tuneful breath, 
 
 And echo Heaven's orchestral melodies. 
 
 And when the crude, chaotic elements 
 
 Of dead Humanity, drinking from Christ 
 
 The spirit of obedience and love, 
 
 Shall from brute proneness rise to manly walk 
 
 Of self-poised liberty ; when rival states 
 
 And churches, belching long with envious rage, 
 
 Shall own the flame of brotherly regard. 
 
 Convert their cannon into railroad bars. 
 
 And the swift-flying messengers of hate 
 
 To telegraphic nerves and tongues of peace, 
 
 With which to bind their members into one 
 
 Consummate Manhood, ordering affairs 
 
 By counsel, and deliberative weight 
 
 Of judgment, in the common interest 
 
 Of Virtue and Humanity, again 
 
 The renovating hand of God shall rest 
 
 Upon His rounded shock of golden sheaves. 
 
 Hark ! from the Golden Mount above 
 
 Resounds the joyful trumpet's zvarning ! 
 See where the militant Bride of Love 
 
THE MORNING STAR. 93 
 
 Girds on her bright adorning I 
 Lo, where Heavens immortal Dove, 
 Over the warring Lamb of God, 
 Fast where Freedom's hosts have trod, 
 
 Leads on the blissful morning, 
 When the strife of brother with brother shall cease. 
 And the Lamb long slain rule FiHnce of Feace I 
 
 Fmpire of Lights whose sister spheres. 
 All round a common center turnins:^ 
 Backward have rolled Earth's golden years, 
 
 Fhe lesson of faith inihile leaj'ning. 
 Wake ! for thy bridal dawn appears ! 
 Waving LLis Banner o'er land and sea, 
 With the torch of Love and Liberty, 
 
 y^esus the world is burning I 
 Now shall thy sons like the stars increase. 
 For Zion's Lord is the Frince of Feace. 
 
 Lo I where the New Jerusalem, 
 
 Fair as the Sun on a golden ocean, 
 Flames like a royal diadem 
 
 With love's divine emotion I 
 Twelve broad gates, and through each gem 
 Enter twelve nations chanting the psalm 
 '' Glory to God! Worthy the Lamb 
 
 To receive a world's devotion I 
 Cease, O Time ! let thy waiting hours cease, 
 And Eternity croivn the God of Feace ! " 
 
VI. 
 
 METHOUGHT I heard an angel whisper " soon." 
 O, who will tell us what means " soon" in Heaven ? 
 " Soon, soon," the Warning Angel ever cries, 
 " He Cometh who shall come." Men lift their heads, 
 Smile, half in hope and half in irony, 
 Breathe short, then long, take up the scythe and sword. 
 Go sweating, bleeding, staggering on. " Soon, soon 
 The Righteous Judge shall come, and shall not tarry," 
 Breaks forth again, above their shouts and groans : 
 But fainter sounds the echo from beneath, — 
 As when a bugle blast, from hill to hill. 
 Leaps through the dreamy dark, and dies away 
 In the oblivious depths of slumbering woods. 
 Each generation hears the trumpet call, 
 And hastens toward Heaven's armory; but soon 
 Forgets to hope, forgets to fear, forgets 
 That to eternity all things are soon. 
 
 " The Son of Man so cometh as a thief 
 By night."— 
 
 "Heard you that stealthy footstep, brother ?" 
 
THE MORNING STAR. 95 
 
 " Where, dearest, on the street ? " 
 
 " Nearer, I think : 
 Not farther than the porch." 
 
 " It may have been 
 The rustling of the Wind, who often sweeps 
 In silken robes through street and corridor. 
 And gently taps, or thunders at their doors, 
 To let men know there is a Spirit near 
 Who gives them all their breath, and will, ere long, 
 Recall His ill-used loan." 
 
 " Listen again ! 
 It sounds within the hall." — 
 
 " I hear no step, 
 Nor deem it possible that one could pass 
 The bolted door so silently. Fear not." 
 
 "Well, read to me again." 
 
 " ' If the good man 
 Had known what hour of night the thief would come, 
 He would have watched.' " — 
 
 " I think I heard a step 
 Upon the stairway leading to my room 
 Were I to lose my jewels it were sad. 
 Our mother gave them to me, and for this 
 I hold them dear, though, for heir proper worth, 
 I little value them." 
 
 " I will make haste 
 And see that all is well." 
 
 " O, brother, stay ! 
 Thy life is more to me than all the gems 
 
96 THE MORNING STAR. 
 
 And glittering trinkets of the Vatican. 
 But make a noise and he will fly." 
 
 " And bear 
 Our precious mother's gifts." 
 
 " But what are they 
 To life ? I have outgrown the use of beads, 
 And bracelets are but fetters to my arms. 
 Go not." 
 
 " But for our honored mother's sake, 
 And his who gave them to her, I esteem 
 No sacrifice in their defence too great." 
 
 " ' The Ufe is more than meat ' — and how much more 
 
 Than things which do but symbolize a love 
 
 So living that it can renew its types. 
 
 At will, while life remains. But this extinct, 
 
 What further value have those mocking gems ? 
 
 Yet, if thou wilt, my love shall go with thee 
 
 For thy defence." — 
 
 " He is escaped, and lo ! 
 Thy casket here lies broken. O, my heart, 
 How had I rather parted with some drops 
 Of thy red anger, than beheld this woe ! " 
 
 " Alas ! the time is coming when the Thief 
 Thou readst of will more sorrow give than this, 
 But anger none. Ev'n now his stealthy foot 
 Is on the stairway leading toward the place 
 Where jewels more esteemed than these are kept. 
 Perhaps their solid value is no more, 
 
THE MORNING STAR. 97 
 
 In eyes that look beyond Earth's glittering shows, 
 
 And realize the substance of its dreams. 
 
 But oh ! my heart misgives me ! I have wrought 
 
 No worthy deeds to prove my love sincere. 
 
 In all things disappointed, nought remains 
 
 But a poor broken casket, from which all 
 
 The jewels have been stolen — all those gifts 
 
 And ornaments with which I thought to make 
 
 My spirit lovely in the eyes of Him 
 
 I would have called the Bridegroom of my soul. 
 
 But now I dare not utter the bold thought, 
 
 Or give it lodgement in my empty brain : 
 
 For when I would have beautified myself 
 
 With acts becoming one to honor called, 
 
 And sought his palace — not in arrogance. 
 
 As though the virtue were at all my own. 
 
 But with that ornament of greatest price. 
 
 Humility, shedding its crowning charms 
 
 O'er all the crown of heavenly gifts — amazed, 
 
 I could not lift one jewel to my hair. 
 
 But still I ceased not struggling, like the fond 
 
 And foolish Bride of Christ, who, in her zeal 
 
 To compass her own glory, thrust the sword 
 
 Into her bleeding bosom, and pulled down 
 
 The mountain crags on her ambitious crest. 
 
 Thus, in the blindness of my vanity, 
 
 I fought the battle with my own false heart 
 
 And treacherous ambition to the end, 
 
 And came forth vanquished, stripped of ev'n the grace 
 
98 THE MORNING STAR, 
 
 Which genial Nature gave. Yet, in due time, 
 
 Deep working mercy Hfted from the dust 
 
 This shattered heart and brain, in which remained 
 
 But emptiness and some small faculty, 
 
 To hold new gifts of Goodness Infinite, 
 
 Which asks but opportunity to give, — 
 
 To pour abroad love's blissful radiance, 
 
 Freely, to rejoicing Universe. 
 
 This lesson, which my head knew long ago, 
 
 I trust I may yet learn by heart : but ah ! 
 
 So little has been lent me of that Faith, 
 
 Whose vast capacities I once beheld 
 
 In vision, but so failed to realize, 
 
 And so much less have any worthy fruits 
 
 Appeared from that received, I tremble now 
 
 Lest when the Son of Man — and who is that. 
 
 But our mortality ? — shall take away 
 
 The little residue of Nature's dower, 
 
 There shall be nothing left, — no inward germ 
 
 Of heavenly virtues, from the Son of God 
 
 Inherited, with which I may begin 
 
 The life eternal. 
 
 Oh ! could I but feel 
 The comforting assurance, of more worth 
 In such an hour than all ambition's toys, 
 That when the lapsing waves of this wild life 
 Shall leave my spirit on the star-paved beach 
 Of the eternities, the Gracious One 
 Will lift me up, and, like a new-born babe, 
 
THE MORNING STAR, 99 
 
 Tenderly fold me in His loving arms, 
 
 And kiss away my unreturning tears ! 
 
 What then were all those pains which in my breast 
 
 Compel the stifled moan ? Then I should know 
 
 They were the travail-pangs of my soul's birth. 
 
 But with this cold vacuity, this doubt, 
 
 This yearning after love, which only falls 
 
 In dew-drops on the desert of desire, 
 
 How can my heart contend ? 
 
 Have patience now, 
 For the pent tides are flowing, and the eye 
 Turns fondly to the mist-clad past, from which 
 The clouds begin to lift. My aching lips 
 Have long hushed thought's confusion, for no cause 
 Could I perceive for the entanglements 
 Which bound my feet when I essayed to scale 
 Heaven's golden mount, but my rare wickedness 
 In turning from my Shepherd's lead : for true 
 Those pointings of his luminous finger seemed ; — 
 Were doubtless true at first ; but when I shrank 
 From duty's onward path through infirm trust 
 In His omnipotence, inwardly leaning 
 Upon my own frail arm, God also turned, 
 In seeming wrath, knowing I was not ripe 
 For His divine employ. Then, sorely grieved 
 At my reverse of fortune — more concerned 
 For my own gain than my Redeemer's cause, 
 And the salvation of immortal souls — 
 Under the inspiration of my fears, 
 Rather than Duty and heart-strengthening Love, 
 
lOO THE MORNING STAR. 
 
 I rallied, and made head against my foes, 
 Led by some Jack o' lantern, that rose up 
 To mock Truth's Guiding Star. The sequel all 
 May learn who strive to enter Paradise 
 By dint of human power — in whom death's fire 
 Has done but half its work, purging the heart 
 Of gross and flagrant sins, but leaving still 
 The roots of discord in the soul's dark depths. 
 
 Oh ! brother, it doth often seem to me 
 
 That I have lived in vain, who hoped to live 
 
 A noble life, and something for my kind 
 
 Accomplish — something that should increase joy 
 
 And beauty in the Earth ! It may be well : 
 
 For some seem born merely to be — to drink 
 
 The precious overflow of God's great love. 
 
 Which else would go to waste. And who can tell 
 
 But these are just as honorable deemed. 
 
 As dear to Him, who counteth very love 
 
 The topmost crown and blossom of our being. 
 
 As those in whom it works to form a seed 
 
 Of other loves, — save that in magnitude 
 
 The one excels the other ? And perhaps 
 
 In the fair Coming Time, in the broad fields 
 
 Of Love's celestial Paradise, the flowers 
 
 Plucked early and unfraited from the Earth, 
 
 And grafted in that kindlier soil, may yield 
 
 A seed of all their charms and lovingness 
 
 To spring in other hearts, as angels spread 
 
 Their beauteous race, and fill the worlds with bloom. 
 
THE MORNING STAR. 10 1 
 
 Such visions sometimes flit across my mind, 
 
 Like angels' wings, throwing a gleam of Heaven 
 
 Into the darkness, and inspiring hope 
 
 That some fruition may at length arise 
 
 From my sore tutelage, when to my couch 
 
 Retired, happy if from some quiet nook 
 
 In Heaven, I may behold my Saviour's face, 
 
 And watch at distance life's tumultuous play, 
 
 Leaving to thee, perhaps, a double task, — 
 
 Unless my spirit still with thine may work, 
 
 And, one without, and one within the veil, 
 
 Together labor still to understand 
 
 The mysteries of human life, and shed 
 
 Hope's cheering radiance o'er its desert paths, — 
 
 Rewarded if some fainting pilgrim gain 
 
 Fresh courage from these foot-prints in the sand. 
 
 Faith's flickering lamp is shining brightly now, 
 Giving a moment's rest, but well I know 
 Darkness will come again, and Sorrow knock 
 At my heart's door, and easy entrance win ; 
 For mortal-bound immortal still is weak, — 
 Frail as the wind-blown gossamer, which clings 
 Fondly to its dead spire of sighing grass, — 
 And from the great Untried instinctively 
 Turns to this rude and melancholy world, 
 Still dear with all its frailties. 
 
 When I flung 
 My maiden tresses 'neath that Juggernaut, 
 Whose wheels are fattened with the blood and brains 
 
102 THE MORNING STAR. 
 
 Of many of our country's noblest youths, 
 
 And fathers not a few — Intemperate Haste, 
 
 Our nation's scourge — how little did we dream 
 
 Of this sad ending to Ambition's race. 
 
 Then the thief entered at the vine-clad door, 
 
 Through which he visits many a happy home, 
 
 And lays its beauty waste ; and since that hour, 
 
 Smiling at our late vigilance, and all 
 
 The schemes of knit-browed Art, has roamed at will 
 
 Throughout this haunted mansion, robbing me 
 
 Of health, peace, comfort, joy and length of days. 
 
 " Mysterious providence ! " it may be called. 
 
 But more like my improvidence it seems. 
 
 Still v/orthy of regret, however grace 
 
 May break or mend my fall. Pardon me then 
 
 If long and almost vain have been my struggles 
 
 For the becoming shroud of resignation, — 
 
 If still I cannot say that all is well, 
 
 While yet unfinished lies my morning task. 
 
 With mid-day's needful labors quite untouched, 
 
 And but half-learned my evening hymn. 
 
 O, Earth ! 
 How beautiful thou art with all thy woe ! 
 Even with the blush of shame upon thy cheek, 
 Or war's dead hectic, thou art lovely still, — 
 Lovely to sight, though bitter to the taste, 
 And fairest when thy hand is most severe, 
 For then we fear to lose thy favors quite. 
 But I am well-nigh weary of thy frowns. 
 And ready to accept thy last embrace, 
 
THE MORJSfING STAR. IO3 
 
 So it be gently given. Why should Death, 
 Now so familiar grown, appalling seem, 
 To one full long a playmate with his shadov/, 
 When thousands, still untaught by lingering pains 
 To sigh for rest and shrink from its approach. 
 Rush to his arms with songs upon their lips. 
 And battle shouts rending the ghostly air ? 
 
 Alas ! my country, who shall stay the tide 
 
 Of our fast-ebbing life ? Alike in sin 
 
 And in its punishment, one only way 
 
 To rest and happiness for us remains — 
 
 The lowly pathway of the River's bed ! 
 
 Peace to thy troubled bosom ! Peace, O, Peace, 
 
 For my impatient soul and weary frame ! 
 
 And thou, unhappy Earth, and thou, O fair 
 
 And long-afflicted Daughter of the Skies, 
 
 May God, in tender mercy, give us Peace I " 
 
 It was the latest sabbath of the year. 
 
 That year of strife and darkness, when a world 
 Anxiously watched the alternating scale 
 In which a gallant nation's life was laid. 
 As anxiously we watched a nearer strife, 
 In which were mirrored Time's last agonies. 
 Midsummer had brought hope : slowly her feet 
 Seemed rising life's green hills, fair with her smiles ; 
 But Autumn came, and with the falling year. 
 Her steps turned downward, nevermore to climb 
 The wearying heights of Earth. Then faithful Hope 
 
104 THE MORNING STAR. 
 
 Spread out her wings, and flew across the vale, 
 
 Sweepmg a way through Jordan's brightening mists, 
 
 To where, in the dim azure, on the hills 
 
 Of Paradise, a Shepherd with his flocks 
 
 Seemed slowly this way tending. Sometimes clouds 
 
 Obscured the vision, and again it broke 
 
 With solace on the eye, as^ step by step, 
 
 She neared the passes of the Silent Stream. 
 
 Nature was tranquil ; on December's brow 
 
 The storm had spent its wrath, and left the World 
 
 Robed in a winding-sheet of innocence. 
 
 Alike on fruitful field and barren heath . 
 
 Oblivious grace had fallen, sternly kind, 
 
 And Earth seemed once more cradled in God's arms. 
 
 The pensive beams of the declining Sun, 
 
 As if in fondness for the dying Year, 
 
 And the sweet flower he would bear with him, bathed 
 
 All Nature in a spring-like glow, and played 
 
 Tenderly round the sofa where reposed. 
 
 In seeming sleep our waiting Voyager, 
 
 Who, like a pure, pale water-lily, kissed 
 
 By sorrow's lapsing waves, began to fold 
 
 Her fragrant petals for the night. Not yet 
 
 Had perfect peace been given. Tremblingly 
 
 She saw the opening mouth of life's dim cave. 
 
 As when a miner leaves his dreary toils. 
 
 To seek the light of day and home's sweet rest. 
 
 But shrank with diffidence from Heaven's bright blaze. 
 
 Fearing lest it reveal some lingering stain 
 
THE MORNING STAR. I05 
 
 Upon her soul, displeasing to the eyes 
 
 Of Him whose love she craved. Waking at length 
 
 From sleepless sleep she called me to her side. 
 
 And said with nature's sweet simplicity, 
 
 " I had a pleasant time when you were out ; 
 
 In my distress, with a more earnest faith, 
 
 I called on God ; He heard, and answered me 
 
 With the pure light of my Redeemer's face. 
 
 Sweet were the moments of that interview. 
 
 But oh ! it was so short ! " 
 
 The Morning Star 
 Of Heaven's eternal Day thus rose and shed 
 Its radiance o'er her soul. Then folding up 
 Her thoughts and smiles in calm, majestic peace, 
 She rested till the evening watch, when lo ! 
 The Somber Angel stretched his fiery hand 
 And touched the silver cord ! the Golden Bowl 
 Lay broken, — dust was dust, and spirit Home ! 
 
 No form, no sound, no motion ! all alone ! 
 No .voice, no glance, no smile answei's my own ! 
 There was a vision — // would not abide ! 
 There was a presence — now there is a void ! 
 I knew a joy — an aching now I feel ! 
 Where flowed a rupture is a woimd to heal / 
 Once there was music in life's ocean roar y 
 Now the waves i7ioan along a sighing shore I 
 I saw two friends life's flowering stunmit scale j 
 I see a stranger wandering down a vale 
 
I06 THE MORNING STAR. 
 
 Alone ! Ah, well, I will go in and stir 
 The ashes j — God, no doiLbt, was kind to her. 
 
 Alone ? — no, not alone I — the Pleasant One, 
 
 Who, ere Creation wakened, dwelt alone, 
 
 Yet not alone, is zvith me ! Even He, 
 Pi'inieval Sire, had pleasant company 
 In his own Word and Thought. In his vast soul 
 life's mighty Embryo moved, wherein the whole 
 Of Nature, both the spirituous and firm. 
 Lay folded like an imdeveloped germ, 
 Rolling and ripening in the Eternal Breast, 
 
 Whose bliss is action, and whose labor rest, 
 
 Till the Omni fie Word, in radiant birth, 
 Began to pour Creation' s glories forth, — 
 Angel and starry hosts, like sparks that roll 
 
 Erom pregnant Etnas beatific soul ! 
 
 Alone ? O, no ! coinpassionate Saviour, Thou. 
 
 Hast trod the path my soul is travelling now I 
 
 Thou knowest each rise and fall, each thorn and stone ! 
 
 The footsteps which I ponder are thine own ! 
 
 They too are streaked with blood, wherewith 'tis meet 
 
 That mine should nmigle, while my lips repeat, 
 
 " Thy Will be done.'' Save in the paths of sin, 
 
 I cannot go where thou hast never been : — 
 
 Can find no rock not softened by thy tears. 
 
 No cave so dark but there thy lamp appears : 
 
 This aching heart bereft of answering love, 
 
 This spirit moaning like a mateless dove, 
 
THE MORNING STAR. \of 
 
 This weary eye and brain, whence light has fled, 
 This heaving bosom and stone-pillowed head, 
 Far more than I can name, thott knowest them all — 
 The vinegar, the woi'7nwood and the gall ! — 
 Rejected by the world thou earnest to save, 
 No refuge from thy people but a grave, 
 When timid f7Hends, like summer birds, were flown, 
 Though man-forsaken, thou wert not alone ! 
 But when thy Father s righteous judgments, hurled 
 In dreary darkness der a wicked world, 
 Veiled from thy sight His face— O, tender Heart ! 
 That sword went through thee — from thy God to part ! 
 Now thou canst pity us, whom sin beguiles 
 So often fro7n our Father s blessed smiles, 
 And death long weary years fro77i the77i divides, 
 Whose goi72g taketh fro77i us all besides ! 
 But grief is 7io i7iore grievous when thy lip 
 Touches with ours i7i sacred fellowship j 
 Nor sorrow sorrowful when thy war77i breath 
 Uplifts the soul, and exiles woe and death I 
 Fragrant with odors of celestial sp7'ing, 
 I feel it blowi7ig o'er 77ie while I si77g. 
 Till, bor7ie 07i angeVs wi7igs, J. 77iount the sky ! 
 Where is thy sti7ig, O, Death ? where, Grave, thy victo7y ? 
 
 Alone I What lights are these which roimd us burn ? 
 Do Moses a7id Elijah too retur7i ? 
 
 Whe7t the Good Shepherd visits those they love, 
 Do his sai7tts li7tger i7i their fold above. 
 
 Or come they also 07i cherubic wings, 
 
I08 THE MORNING STAR. 
 
 Where Love immortal to her birthplace clings ? 
 Perhaps they aid to bear the gift He brings j 
 Perhaps their harvest in oiir thoughts they reap j 
 And oft, I wee ft, they sooth us when we weep, 
 And tender vigil o'er our slumbers keep : — 
 Pond mother bending o'er her infant's rest ; 
 Kind father blessiiig those he oft has blessed ; 
 Sweet sister twining flowers of heavenly bloom 
 Round brows that faithful beamed through joy and gloom ; 
 Or brother, with seraphic tenderness 
 Soothing dark anguish with love's soft caress j 
 ■ The child of niaiiy prayers eager to bring 
 To broken age its grateful offering j 
 Or soul espoused for life's congenial tie, 
 And boimd through death by that which ca7tnot die, 
 Peturned with balm fro7n love's celestial bowers. 
 To shed delight on sorrow's darkest hours : — 
 O, stars that ever with the shining Sun, 
 Mingle your beams, and when a day is done, 
 And He retires to let your light be see?i, 
 Pour your soft smiles from the o' erbrooding sheen 
 Of your eternal restingplace — by name 
 I know you, gentle f?-iends ! The sacred flame 
 Of yoiLr sublime benevolence, I feel, 
 As often through life's solitudes ye steal 
 Around 7ny heart, to fan the languid fire 
 Of its devotion, and awake desire 
 To loftier aims, and hopes height garlands weave, 
 And whisper to my soul, " Believe, believe ! 
 Though Ea7'th be dark, O bright is heavenly day ! 
 
THE MORNING STAR, 
 
 Though blinding , grief ^ a moment ends its sway ! 
 
 Though hard thine eai^thly couch, there is a Breast 
 
 Where weary spirits may forever rest, 
 
 Their himger all appeased, their warfare done, 
 
 Woe ever ceased, joy ever but begim. 
 
 To drink with us, in glittering coii,rts above. 
 
 Immortal streams of beaitty, light and love I — 
 
 No more of grief , no more of loneliness, 
 
 But one vast chorus of unbounded bliss ! " 
 
 109 
 
VII. 
 
 BEHOLD yon beauteous Planet, O my friend ! 
 Which seemed to melt into the gold of heaven, 
 But perished not from love's attentive gaze. 
 Ev'n when the Sun has risen we can feel 
 Its placid beauty shining from the depths 
 Of its ethereal home, as if to say, 
 What more is death to the immortal soul, 
 Than its unrobing from the shades of night ? 
 What thinkest thou ? may loving hearts perceive 
 The subtle radiance of kindred fires, 
 That have put off their mortal covering ? " 
 
 "Truly it seemeth not impossible." 
 
 " Why, when the stilling hand of Death has closed 
 
 The lively senses to our fond appeal, 
 
 And the reluctant, solemn sepulture 
 
 Has borne the precious ashes to their rest, 
 
 Does the bisected heart sometimes defy 
 
 The arrow-point of grief, still beating joy 
 
 Through all the soul, as if the arteries 
 
 Through which the purest of its pleasures flowed, 
 
 Were still unsevered — still aflame with life, 
 
 And sweet reciprocal love, outlasting death ? " 
 
THE MORNING STAR. Ill 
 
 " It argueth continuance of the Dead 
 
 In occupation of their native sphere, 
 
 Or, that our sense of their late presence with us 
 
 Is still so vivid that it doth impress 
 
 Our spirits with a like regard of them. 
 
 Truth has so many substances and shadows 
 
 Of nice resemblance, 'tis most difficult 
 
 To draw the line between what seems and is." 
 
 " Hence she doth labor to procure for us 
 
 A twofold witness, Consciousness and Sense, 
 
 Grounding our intuitions in a form 
 
 Of tangible effects, to indicate. 
 
 Past doubt, the verity of that conceived, 
 
 And Thought's ethereal features more define. 
 
 To me the world contains no stranger thing 
 
 Than that, if disembodied spirits live, 
 
 They cannot make their presence known to us 
 
 By some indubitable proofs, but mope 
 
 And shadow round us, leaving us to guess, 
 
 From the uncertain longings of the soul. 
 
 And tedious arguments of no more force 
 
 Than serves to keep the fluttering breath in Hope, 
 
 At questions of most infinite concern. 
 
 Which one clear glance would set at rest." 
 
 " And then 
 Another would be wanted, and another, 
 Till we should have no patience with our life 
 In this dull world, where our chief business is 
 
112 THE MORNING STAR. 
 
 Until the shell be broken of that egg 
 
 From which our struggling angel must be hatched. 
 
 Perhaps it is enough for our best weal — 
 
 For the development of moral nerve 
 
 And fiber, which have ever flourished best 
 
 In temperate climes — that we imbibe the warmth 
 
 Of God's o'erbroodiag spirit, ignorant 
 
 For a few days of the celestial walks 
 
 Of being, and what fair wings flit around 
 
 And chant their gladness in the open sky." 
 
 '' The figure is well chosen, but methinks 
 
 The shell about our souls is growing thin, — 
 
 Tender almost to rottenness. A touch 
 
 Will break it now which but a few years since 
 
 Had harmless proved ; and haply, for this cause, 
 
 'Tis more translucent now than formerly, — 
 
 Though in all ages there have not been wanting 
 
 Some of more delicate nerve, whose subtle organs 
 
 Distinguished shadows of celestial forms 
 
 Through life's attenuate veil. Why should the World 
 
 Go ever muflled in the swaddling clothes 
 
 Of infancy ? or wearing bonds of youth ? : 
 
 Have the paternal Skies no waiting dower 
 
 Of freedom and fresh knowledge for its manhood ? — 
 
 Nought for i\Iidsummer, to the budding spring 
 
 Denied ? — nothing for Autumn's thank-day feast, 
 
 Or Winter's cheer reserved ?" 
 
THE MORNING STAR. II3 
 
 " To these belong 
 The fruits of the spring sowing, both of sin 
 And virtue ; all the trees in Eden planted 
 Yield their due increase ; but the Tree of Life — 
 The witness of his immortality — 
 Was hid from man when his incontinence 
 Led him to grasp at things beyond his reach, — 
 Seeking to be a god before his time. 
 If from the innocent a Father's love 
 Would keep excess of knowledge, wherein lies 
 No little peril to the unripe soul, 
 With how much care should a sin-blighted world, 
 Lost to an inward conscience of the truth, 
 Be guarded from the serpent's glozing tongue ? 
 For it may prove that all who speak as gods 
 Are not of God, but use the tongue of beasts, 
 Or some like instrument of magic art, 
 With purpose to delude the credulous, 
 And lure the mind from an internal lead, 
 And spiritual communings, to depend 
 On outward signs which bring no certain proof 
 Of truth, or spiritual identity." 
 
 " Yet, granting the inherent poverty 
 
 Of matter, whether animate or dead, 
 
 Fitly to image truth so that no lie 
 
 Can hide beneath it, still we must believe 
 
 That God intends it for some honest use. 
 
 Whether esteemed the base or shadow of being, 
 
 Its value reaches to the highest heaven. 
 
114 THE MORNING STAR. 
 
 Jehovah's self despised not its embrace, 
 
 And promised further honors in the future, 
 
 When to the World He gave His Well-Beloved ; 
 
 And if aught evil have crept into it 
 
 For our seduction, would it not seem wiser — 
 
 More Christ-like — with a whip of righteousness, 
 
 Faith and intelligence to drive it out. 
 
 Than weakly to abandon our just title 
 
 To all Truth's fair domain ? If Mother Eve 
 
 Let in so bad a guest, that for a time 
 
 The angels were ashamed to visit her, 
 
 Unless they wore a veil, she had a daughter 
 
 So credulous toward God that He disdained not 
 
 To greet her with a lover's kiss, so fervid, 
 
 That from that hour the sluggishness of matter, 
 
 Opaque through sin, began to pass away. 
 
 Giving some ground for hope that finally 
 
 The correlated powers of Consciousness 
 
 And Sense will grow so subtle and refined, 
 
 That their joint operation will reveal 
 
 The substance of our dim imaginings ; 
 
 And being's inner sanctuary expose 
 
 To reverent inspection, — laying bare 
 
 Heaven's, long-kept secrets. To what purport else 
 
 When on the cross Messiah's fiesh was parted 
 
 Was the like symbol in the Temple rent 
 
 From top to bottom ! — mark you, fi'om the top 
 
 Unto the bottoJii ! which doth signify, 
 
 That the obscurity shall be removed 
 
 First from man's higher nature, but at length, 
 
THE MORNING STAR. II5 
 
 Through the redeeming sympathy which joins 
 Body and soul, his lower powers shall share 
 The blessed vision of celestial life." 
 
 " It would indeed appear that until then, 
 The Great Reformer hath not perfected 
 His enterprise. But for this consummation. 
 Mankind must wait till Death has had his due 
 For Heaven's infracted law. When Earth and Sea, 
 Shot through with lightnings of His countenance. 
 Give up their dead, as did the Sepulchre 
 Its slumbering Lord, then shall these hidden powers 
 Resume their native functions, opening wide 
 Our doors to heavenly visitants." 
 
 " Behold ! 
 Out of the mist-clad Deep they rise ! The dead 
 Are no more dead ! in forms of living light, 
 Substantial, incorrupt, the ravished Grave 
 They quit, and stand before the throne of God 
 For judgment. All things perishable, false 
 And vain shall now be given to the flames ; 
 Truth, Wisdom, Righteousness to glory rise. 
 Eternal in the Heavens ! Why should our sight 
 Be ever fixed upon the blinding dust 
 Of carnal images ? What portion, pray you, 
 Of man's decaying body is reserved 
 To seal his dubious identity. 
 If in the living soul the key be wanting ? 
 Of all the garments which the spirit weaves 
 
Il6 THE MORNING STAR. 
 
 And yearly casts away, which must the Earth 
 Surrender ere the sons of God can spread 
 The feast of immortahty ? Why join 
 Things most unUke to prove that Hteral 
 Whose essence only is of solid worth ? 
 Did Jesus from the grave his ashes take, 
 When but a thimble-full remained, and call 
 The winds, the sea, the flower, the rock to give 
 Their stolen treasures back to Him, and then 
 Compose the selfsame shadow of Himself 
 Which on the Cross was broken ? Did not Love 
 Paternal rather keep that golden type. 
 To show by its uplifting that the grave 
 Had lost its power to mar what fiUal trust 
 In God makes incorruptible ? Such form 
 Within the outer garments of his flesh 
 Hath man, as the devouring worm and fire 
 Of Nature's searching inquest cannot touch, 
 While by a more celestial form sustained. 
 In which the flame divine of God's own life, 
 Abides. In such a form the angels dwell, 
 And, as they need, lay hold of nature's powers 
 To work God's will, as men attire themselves 
 In woven vestments, whether new or old, 
 As suits their company or toil — of life 
 An adjunct, not a part. What if the Lord 
 Of Earth and Heaven should to His Angels say, 
 *' Prepare anon your mighty armament 
 For the concluding act of our long war 
 Against Idolatry and Unbelief, 
 
THE MORNING STAR. II/ 
 
 The two grand foes that now on either hand 
 
 Assault our kingdom in the Earth with din 
 
 Of noisy and conflicting arguments ! 
 
 Go therefore and prepare our final siege 
 
 At once of Rome and Athens !"^what I say 
 
 Should hinder the rejoicing hosts of Heaven, 
 
 Who at His bidding sway this lower world 
 
 And hold in check its stormy elements, 
 
 From gathering round their pure celestial forms 
 
 A luminous vestment of the finer threads 
 
 In Nature's loom, to signal to mankind 
 
 The coming storm, as when the weather- gods, 
 
 With shining shield and spear, deploy their ranks 
 
 In ominous glory all across the north 
 
 By night, and sometimes in the zenith wave 
 
 The crimson flag of elemental war ? 
 
 'Tis said clear-eyed observers have already 
 
 Caught glimpses of the vanguard hastening 
 
 To break the ground, and fill the yawning trench, 
 
 And plant the cannon. Doubtless Doubt should stand 
 
 At Reason's side what time she doth inquire 
 
 Of things so marvelous, and in his hand 
 
 Hold fast Ithuriel's spear, lest some foul toad 
 
 Inspire the restless mind with idle dreams, 
 
 Which better fit it for adulterous league 
 
 With Error than the sober walks of Truth. 
 
 Yet he that would esteem himself a man, 
 
 Should probe each honest question of his time. 
 
 And having two eyes, keep them both alert. 
 
 One in the search of truth and one of shadows, 
 
 And, proving all things, hold fast what is good." 
 
Il8 THE MORNING STAR. 
 
 " Or bide his time for such developments 
 
 As will endow his faculties to act 
 
 With the precision of intelligence. 
 
 Danger runs hand in hand with Haste. When ripe, 
 
 Truth falls of its own weight, and sinks at once 
 
 Into the soil of conscience, bringing forth 
 
 Fruit of its kind ; plucked green, it quickly rots 
 
 And fails an issue. What if those who seem 
 
 Angels of light — if they be more than shadows 
 
 From fever-warmed imagination cast 
 
 Upon the screen of some unfathomed power 
 
 Of intellect — rather prove enemies 
 
 Of human peace and happiness, whose light 
 
 Is darkness, or the stolen robes of Truth 
 
 In which, as in sheep's clothing, they essay 
 
 Lawless approach to this unsheltered fold, 
 
 And stealing in with serpent subtlety, 
 
 And ready counterfeit of friendship's voice, 
 
 Feed open-mouthed Credulity with lies 
 
 Fatal to order, peace and innocence ? " 
 
 " It were not strange if from the vast Unseen, 
 Where the prolific broods of Life and Death 
 Are gathered, spirits of all mind should rush 
 Toward the back-opening doorway of the Earth, 
 Or its breached wall, if haply they may gain 
 The ear of student or companion fond, 
 In which to pour the stream of burning knowledge 
 Hard to retain so long. Nor doth the mind 
 Of devil less than angel yearn to sow 
 
THE MORNING STAR, 1 19 
 
 Its seed in kindred soil. The cormorant, 
 
 As well as dove, delights to propagate 
 
 Its carrion-loving race. Thus, unrestrained 
 
 By conscience, disembodied fools or knaves 
 
 May oft push honest folk aside, and seize 
 
 The disappointed ear of those who sit 
 
 In this half-Hghted auditorium. 
 
 Or hold high carnival with kindred spirits. 
 
 For this good reason, possibly, the sky-lights 
 
 Were barred of old, and may again be closed 
 
 Till better order is obtained — the more 
 
 As those whose chaste attention would invite 
 
 A better class of speakers blush at note 
 
 Of any impropriety or lie, 
 
 And leave the court-room as a place unfit 
 
 For Christians ; so the devil's witnesses 
 
 And lawyers have it their own way, — and will 
 
 Till modest people dare to brave the fight. 
 
 And brand the tongue of falsehood, whether clothed 
 
 In flesh, or wind-blown clouds of noxious vapor, — 
 
 Learning at length through sore experience 
 
 How to distinguish between foe and friend, 
 
 By inward rather than external signs, — 
 
 And that the law of progress does not end 
 
 With this primary school, this nursery 
 
 Of character and wisdom, but holds good 
 
 Even to the highest university, 
 
 Where the archangels teach God's mysteries 
 
 To the celestial savans and bright ranks 
 
 Of knowledge-loving cherubim, and turn, 
 
120 THE MORNING STAR. 
 
 Not seldom, to their reverend President 
 
 For counsel and instruction. Till mankind, 
 
 Emancipated by the Inward Light, 
 
 Have learned the conjoint use of faith and reason, 
 
 The world is ill equipped for its advancement 
 
 Into the higher walks of liberty, 
 
 Where Truth and Error, Light and Darkness still 
 
 Debate the empire of the mind. I doubt not 
 
 Even the van of Freedom's toiling host, 
 
 As oft before, will turn from Canaan's shores, 
 
 To wander in the wilderness of doubt 
 
 And fruitless controversy, until Death 
 
 Relieves the world of yet another race." 
 
 " Methinks their flight is not without excuse ; 
 
 For, first, they are not well assured that Moses 
 
 Hath ordered this advance, but the reverse ; 
 
 And, secondly, of all the prudent spies 
 
 They have sent forward, ten in every twelve 
 
 Have not obtained the vintage of En-gedi, 
 
 But a mere milk and honey beverage. 
 
 More fitted for the sick and sorrowing, 
 
 Than for the diet of inquiring minds, — 
 
 And have indeed seen giants, somewhat spectral 
 
 Perhaps, but of a most pretentious bearing. 
 
 And hostile to those claims by Christians held. 
 
 To whose encounter they are loth to bring 
 
 The tender wisdom of their little ones, 
 
 Though for themselves they might not shun the assault. 
 
 And surely, from the sum of evidence 
 
THE MORNING STAR. 121 
 
 Thus far obtained, — if aught thereof be real — 
 
 We must conclude that many in those regions 
 
 Are such as were more wisely shunned than courted." 
 
 " And for these reasons men will turn away 
 
 From the apparent proof and demonstration 
 
 Of immortahty, which unto some 
 
 Are sweeter than the purple wealth of Eschol, 
 
 And worth a journey o'er the Border-lands 
 
 Of Time to gain, though but a single cluster, 
 
 With toil and weariness, could be brought back, 
 
 Suspended on a stick between men's shoulders ! 
 
 But those whose eyes are always backward turned. 
 
 To find a warrant for their Christ-bought freedom 
 
 In the example of Earth's twilight ages, 
 
 Will ever bow before a Golden Calf, 
 
 And fly affrighted from each show of danger." 
 
 " The votaries of this apocalypse 
 
 Seem quite as likely to bestow their worship 
 
 On a poor Golden Calf, as those who trust 
 
 In proofs which have endured the rack and strain 
 
 Of twenty centuries. In dignity. 
 
 In calm intensity of moral power, 
 
 In godlike purpose and consistency, 
 
 In grand effect, how far do those excel 
 
 These puny miracles of modern time ! 
 
 Yet men will bow before a dancing stick, 
 
 And with wide-throated confidence imbibe 
 
 The silly drivel of a sorcerer, 
 
122 THE MORNING STAR. 
 
 Who stand unmoved before the glorious life 
 And solid wisdom of the Son of God." 
 
 " Which, though irrational, should point the wise 
 To one of nature's laws. A tallow candle 
 At hand out-shines the distant Pleiades ! 
 A summer novel will attract more readers, 
 To spend the midnight oil upon its pages, 
 Than the Old Romance of a dying World, 
 Saved by the blood of her Celestial Lover ! — 
 Observing which, some of the star- eyed muses 
 Have lately turned their wits to novel writing. 
 And thereby, through an art long time tabooed 
 By such as praised the sacred parables. 
 Rendered effective service to the cause 
 Of piety and virtue. Better thus 
 To cleanse all channels of intelligence 
 And rational delight, than weakly yield 
 To thieves the fairest province of Truth's realm." 
 
 " But tell me now, are not these modern dreamers 
 j\Iore given to their idols than the zealot. 
 Who, in his darkened cloister, counts his beads. 
 Or conjures with his relic, fancying 
 The saints will hold to him by their attachment 
 To cast-off clothes ? Nay, are not the sincere 
 And the enlightened, who perhaps may find 
 Some grains of truth among the sands of folly, 
 And sometimes feel the heart-beat of the angels. 
 Or through their own, or through another's pulses, 
 
THE MORNING STAR. 1 23 
 
 In danger of transferring unto these, 
 The homage and attention due to God ? 
 Gravely I question whether wise or weak 
 Would much advantage gain from laying bare 
 Those secrets unto which an. inborn faith 
 Has thus far been the key, sufficient found 
 By all who trust in God, to nourish hope 
 And strengthen virtue for more solid growth 
 Than might arise from grounds of certainty. 
 What if the clouds which brood above our heads, 
 Reflecting or restraining heaven's pure light. 
 Could be, by more than Fancy's eye, transformed 
 To angel, human, or demoniac faces, 
 Lustrous or dark, such as the dreaming boy 
 Can see in every rack, — how could our thoughts 
 Go through them up to God, or Love its way 
 Find mid the radiant throng of witnesses 
 That hover round the earth, — did they not veil 
 Their heart-entangling beauty to protect 
 Our innocent devotions — how, I say, 
 Could Love the pathway to its Father find ?" 
 
 '' Precisely as it does in Earth or Heaven, 
 Once having learned the art of social praise. 
 And what the Word of Faith long since declared 
 Of God's true dwelling-place, — nor up, nor down, 
 But in the loving heart and truthful lips. 
 Yet I confess to no small peril here. 
 For that prime root of woe. Idolatry, 
 Doth so impinge upon the Tree of Life, 
 
124 THE MORNING STAR. 
 
 That in man's heart their branches interlace, 
 
 And not unfrequently a mongrel growth 
 
 Of piety engender, very grievous 
 
 To the Good Father. For this cause, perhaps, 
 
 When man became infatuate for knowledge 
 
 Of things beyond his years, God drew a veil 
 
 Before the heavens, lest by an outward glory 
 
 Rather than moral excellence, his heart 
 
 Should be engaged. But when redeeming grace 
 
 Had again planted in his soul the germs 
 
 Of piety and wisdom, and good root 
 
 Therefor obtained, it pleased the Viewless One 
 
 To set before the hungry eyes of men 
 
 An Image of His person, dim at first, 
 
 Of purpose to make inward worth more winning, 
 
 And separate the dross from faith's true gold ; 
 
 But presently outrivaling the sun, 
 
 In the pure splendors of that glorious Form, 
 
 In which, to make his triumph over Sin 
 
 And Death complete, the Son of God appeared 
 
 Not once, but many times to those who loved him, 
 
 And could the vision bear. Herein perchance 
 
 He did not fail to set a safe example 
 
 To such as could obey it, for his angels 
 
 Did oft succeed in breaking through the mists 
 
 Of physical impurity, which cloud 
 
 Man's spiritual sight, and to the prophets — 
 
 A most prolific household in those times — 
 
 In diverse ways communicate their thou,i^hts, 
 
 Which burned for utterance, so that, while one 
 
THE MORNING STAR . 12$ 
 
 Was speaking through his medium, another 
 
 Would suddenly break out, incompetent 
 
 To hold the fiery beam which through him shot 
 
 From Truth's warm-shining Sun. And so it came 
 
 That frequently confusion took the place 
 
 Of order, such a crowd of spirits yearned 
 
 To add their voices to the swelling chorus 
 
 Of immortality : and some for Christ, 
 
 And some for Antichrist their voices raised. 
 
 Causing the wise apostles to lay down 
 
 Rules for their government, and for the trial 
 
 Of those who spoke, holding the spirits subject 
 
 Unto the prophets, and excluding those 
 
 Who testified against the Truth. All this 
 
 Under the eyes of those clear-sighted bishops, 
 
 Which the Lord set to guard his infant fold, 
 
 For many years transpired. Nor was it wisdom, 
 
 Virtue, or heaven-imposed necessity. 
 
 But rather human v/eakness, ever prone 
 
 To change God's richest blessings to a curse, 
 
 Which caused the groaning gates of Paradise 
 
 To close once more over a darkening world, 
 
 Thenceforth for dreary centuries, a prey 
 
 And sporting-ground for devils, who, like wolves 
 
 In sheep's attire, ravaged the bloody fold. 
 
 And drove the frantic and disheveled Church, 
 
 Again into the Wilderness, where God 
 
 Her secret place prepared, and there has fed her, 
 
 Well nigh her two and forty months, with bread 
 
 Of faith, by unseen fingers scattered round 
 
126 THE MORNING STAR, 
 
 Her melancholy camp. But she begins 
 Once more to hunger for a change of diet 
 And open vision of that Heavenly Country, 
 Which is her fit inheritance. What think you ? 
 Is it more Christ-like to submit to wrong, 
 Or drive out evil with the rod of Truth ? " 
 
 " Both that and this, as ordered in God's time. 
 Perhaps where dangers compass every walk. 
 He will best reach his goal who in tried paths 
 Directs his steps, not emulous to gain 
 Wealth by uncertain ventures, while enough 
 Is given for each day's uses." 
 
 " O, my friend ! 
 Thou hast not parted with the half thy soul ! 
 It may be well for those who feel no lack 
 To rest in their contentment, until God 
 Moves them to keen inquiry if the heavens 
 Must needs be ever silent, silent, silent, 
 To love's importunate appeal! The World 
 Has not outgrown the need of restless hearts, 
 Ready to do and dare in Love's sweet service ; 
 Or curious explorers bent to find 
 Each crevice in her golden hills. E'en Caution 
 Is not at all times prudent. Those whom men 
 Call mad are the World's saviours : martyr-like, 
 They fling contempt upon the World's cold wisdom, 
 And, fired by some great master passion, rush 
 Through Hell and death to immortality. 
 Cold Science doth not lack such votaries, 
 
THE MORNING STAR. 12^ 
 
 Willing to forfeit life for but a taste 
 
 Of Nilus' fountain, or one happy glance 
 
 At the Earth's bare and frozen axis. Lo ! 
 
 How rival nations squander wealth and tears 
 
 To win a glacier, while, just above them. 
 
 The i^reen and argent fields of Paradise 
 
 Wave welcome from innumerable homes 
 
 Of love and light — all vainly wave, to gain 
 
 But an indifferent or scornful glance 
 
 From those who deem life honorably spent 
 
 In wresting from the Earth's reluctant bosom, 
 
 Or close-mouthed skies, their secrets. While with lens 
 
 And spectroscope man conjures with the stars, 
 
 And makes continuous inroads upon heaven, 
 
 Wooing the spirits of the vasty deep 
 
 To own us for their kindred, shall no charm 
 
 Of love, or irresistable wand of faith. 
 
 From the mind's inner constellations draw 
 
 Their heart-inspiring treasures ? While from shore 
 
 To shore of Earth's long sundered continents 
 
 We send our greeting on the lightning's wing, 
 
 Bidding adieu to absence, time and space, 
 
 Shall that ethereal ocean, which divides 
 
 Life's widowed hemispheres, forevermore 
 
 Our arts defy ? Shall Jordan's rivulet, 
 
 Which from the prophet's fallen mantle fled. 
 
 And from the Ark of God's redeeming love. 
 
 Be never bridged with golden strands of thought. 
 
 Though dark Niagara's chasm has been spanned ? 
 
 O, shame ! that men should be ashamed to ask, 
 
128 THE MORNING STAR. 
 
 With solemn earnestness, if there be found 
 
 At last a medium, however humble, 
 
 Whereby we can some tidings gain of those 
 
 Who drew our heart-strings with them when they went 
 
 Forth from our sighing tents, perhaps no farther 
 
 Than Canaan from that Border Land, whereto, 
 
 Their warfare done, a fifth of Israel's tribes 
 
 Did gain consent their loving steps to turn ! 
 
 Pray whither should our wandering lovers stray, 
 
 To find a sweeter pasture than our thoughts 
 
 Awhile afford, till they grow brown and juiceless, 
 
 Because the heavens give down no freshening rain ? 
 
 Should they go nibbling round other planets ? 
 
 Or board some comet steaming o'er heaven's main, 
 
 And search for joy in fair celestial islands ? 
 
 When far from home, and this maternal Orb 
 
 Whose eye still follows lovingly their flight. 
 
 Weary with sight of strangers and strange lands, 
 
 Will they not languish with sweet homesickness, 
 
 And say unto their Father, " Father, dear, 
 
 We long to see again our Mother's face. 
 
 And our sweet sisters and fond brothers kiss. 
 
 Tenderly — oh, so soft and tenderly 
 
 Upon their hearts, that they shall think of us. 
 
 And say, are not our heavenly loved ones near ? " 
 
 Would not the Father to his oarsmen say, 
 
 ' Turn thitherward your swift heaven-cleaving wings, 
 
 And take my darlings wheresoe'er they will ? ' " 
 
THE MORNING STAR. 1 29 
 
 " And when returned with so much freight of learning, 
 Methinks they should be able to augment 
 Somewhat our meagre stores. But what new truths 
 Has the world thus far gathered from these pale 
 And crossing meteors, which sometimes shower 
 Upon us from an unknown sphere ? We deem 
 The stars are falling, but when morning comes, 
 Nothing remains of all the fair display 
 But wonderment and dust ! " ^^ 
 
 " Yet thus may fall— 
 Mostly no doubt in inconspicuous rain, 
 With now and then a flash of angels' wings, — 
 The pollen which the conjugal Heavens bestow 
 To foster Earth's enlarging life, and give 
 To her crude growths that rising excellence 
 Which hints at contact with superior orbs. 
 Conjecture well may weary with surmising 
 Of all the possible benefits mankind 
 May gather from these ghostly visitants. 
 But if that one vast, hard, soul-buffeting question 
 Of Immortality could by these means 
 Be comfortably laid amid the tombs 
 Of old forgotten problems, who would not 
 Thank God, and enter on his proper work 
 With two-fold energy, striving to lay 
 The stones of his eternal habitation 
 In pleasant places ?" 
 
 *' Some might thus improve 
 Their firm assurance, others take new lease 
 Of self-indulgence, seeing life is long 
 
130 THE MORNING STAR. 
 
 And may have many turns — each one, of course, 
 
 As the fools always are, a vast improvement 
 
 On the preceding ! But if so much good, 
 
 And chiefly good, cr,n spring from these revealings — 
 
 These late-discovered oil-founts of the sky — 
 
 Why were they so long hidden from mankind ? 
 
 Or, if not wholly to the past unknown, 
 
 Why was their use of old inhibited ? 
 
 Why should God frown such blessings into darkness ? 
 
 " For the same reason that He veiled men's bodies 
 
 When Liberty with Innocence was slain, — 
 
 To guard them from temptation and excess, 
 
 And bound their passions by the law of love. 
 
 Their use for evil only was denied. 
 
 While freely to the honest prophets granted 
 
 Who in their schools had learned the needful art 
 
 Of winnowing 'the golden grain of truth 
 
 From its encumbering dust and chaff. The same 
 
 Wise limitation at this day is binding. 
 
 The sorcerer is but spiritual harlot 
 
 Who prostitutes Heaven's gifts for lust or gain. 
 
 And without sanctifying love disports 
 
 With life's profoundest sanctities. In part 
 
 To Nature due, in part to use, this power 
 
 Is a more sensuous development 
 
 Of that profound and wondrous womb of thought. 
 
 Imagination, common to the race, 
 
 But in the poet's mind preeminent — 
 
 So all alive to nature's sympathies, 
 
THE MORNING STAR. 131 
 
 And the complete analogies which form 
 
 The base of spiritual knowledge, that when the truth 
 
 Enters the mind there is at once conceived 
 
 A figurative form appropriate 
 
 To its peculiar features, form the germs 
 
 Of Nature's infinite correspondencies. 
 
 Cell-like, in memory stored. In common parlance, 
 
 The instruments of thought's embodiment 
 
 x\re arbitrary types by art invented — 
 
 Symbols of earth or air where thought takes form 
 
 For observation, that it may project 
 
 And multiply itself in other minds. 
 
 But poets add to language picture types. 
 
 As artists do to books, making the germs 
 
 Of fancy blossom out before the eye. 
 
 Hence poets are twin-brothers of the prophets 
 
 In whom imaginative faculty 
 
 Projects its power into the nervous system. 
 
 And so endows it that when spirit forms 
 
 Are present, from the finer media 
 
 Of nature — the magnetic aura which invests 
 
 Our lower life, forming an atmosphere 
 
 For commerce and reflection between brain 
 
 And spirit — there is formed an auratype, 
 
 Or apparition of the ghostly presence, 
 
 Or such responsive motions as will signal 
 
 Its operations to ear, eye, or touch. 
 
 To what extent art may improve this rare 
 
 And wondrous faculty — no more divine 
 
132 THE MORNING STAR. 
 
 Than all God's gifts — and for our happiness, 
 
 Or higher growth employ it, time must prove. 
 
 Like all the kindred powers of soul and body, 
 
 Immensely competent for good or ill, 
 
 It should with love-bound continence be used — 
 
 Discreetly, reverently in virtue's service. 
 
 With due respect of Nature's just relations. 
 
 He who transforms a ghost into a god. 
 
 Or woes it but for idle dalliance. 
 
 Or seeks to harness it before his cart, 
 
 May find himself a ghost-bestridden fool, 
 
 Spurred swiftly into error's thorny paths. 
 
 But he that with a heart reposed on God, 
 
 And mind illumined by His secret beam. 
 
 Inquires what good, what truth, what joy of love, 
 
 What comfort of assurance may be found 
 
 In this or any door of being's wide 
 
 And various temple, though he may not find 
 
 All his desire, or meet at every turn 
 
 Truth-telling guides, yet, if he do respect 
 
 The laws of those dominions, and regard 
 
 The imperfections of his counsellors. 
 
 And the proprieties of time and place. 
 
 He shall not be repelled as an intruder. 
 
 But welcomed with a Father's gracious smile, 
 
 And by good angels helped along the dark 
 
 And stony paths of life, more cheerful made 
 
 By these faint glimpses of a better world." 
 
THE MORNING STAR. 1 33 
 
 Welcome ! welcome I sister dear^ 
 From the dark and stormy sea ! 
 From the waves of doubt and fear, 
 
 To the Home of Libe7'ty ! 
 Welcome to the House of Cheer, 
 And oitr Happy Family ! 
 
 Welcome to the peaceful Skies ! 
 
 All thy weary tasks are done! 
 Sister, lift thy drooping eyes, 
 
 And behold oitr Chose7i One I 
 Sorrow from. His presence flies, 
 
 Like the clouds before the Sun! 
 
 Doiibt and sadness all are flown ! 
 
 Death has lost his mortal sting ! 
 Love hath made us all his own 
 
 By his patient suffering I 
 High upon his golden throne. 
 
 Love in every heart is King ! 
 
 Bowing meekly to the rod, 
 
 Man's deliverance to gain. 
 Buried oft beneath the sod 
 
 Of his sluggish heart and brain, 
 Worthy Son and Lamb of God, 
 
 Take thy Father's might and reign ! 
 
VIII. 
 
 p 
 
 RAY hast thou thus heard aught from thy beloved, 
 Since o'er death's abrogated bourne she passed •? ' 
 
 " Such is my very pleasant confidence." 
 
 " By what sound tokens justified ? " 
 
 " By proofs, 
 
 Intrinsic and extrinsic, such as wrought 
 
 Conviction in my walling mind." 
 
 " O'erwilling, 
 
 It may be, for the critical regard 
 
 Which such pretensions merit." 
 
 " Possibly ; 
 
 And yet to ask for light, and straightway close 
 
 Our eyes to its appeal, if novel found. 
 
 Is little wiser than to credit things 
 
 Incredible, because we wish them true." 
 
 "Well, what good tidings did she bring — what truths 
 Of new and wondrous import — from the realms 
 Of pure celestial radiance ?" 
 
THE MORNING STAR. 1 35 
 
 " Did Messias 
 Teach men new truths, or vitalize the old ones ? — 
 And how should babes excel the Lord's Anointed ? 
 Were they to startle us with prodigies 
 Beyond our power to image or conceive, 
 What profit would they gather from their tale ? " 
 
 "Well, what of cheer or comfort ? " 
 
 " Words of love. 
 That tasted of the virtues of my sister, 
 And helped me to conceive her living presence. " 
 
 "Aught of advice or warning ? " 
 
 " Yes, these words, 
 "' Do not fear death, my brother.' " 
 
 " Did she speak 
 Of her demise, and tell you in what manner 
 Death handles us ? " 
 
 " She said, ' I seemed to sleep 
 A little while, then woke as from a dream — 
 So strange it seemed, that all which caused me pain 
 Was left.' " 
 
 " Of the condition of her mind ? " 
 
 " That she remembered all I said to her — 
 Meaning the words of courage, which I spoke 
 In the last hours, saying a sweet surprise 
 Awaited her, to find how slight a change. 
 And yet how great death brings — that what we call 
 Death is but going up the river's bank, 
 
136 THE MORNING STAR. 
 
 In whose cold waters we so long have waded : — 
 Likewise, that she was happy and content." — 
 
 Did she assent that she had seen her Saviour, 
 Him, for whose love she said so touchingly 
 In her soul's widowhood, that she was willing 
 To go and agonize, even through death ? " 
 
 " She did, and that He is the very Sun 
 
 Of that Celestial World where she is dwelling. 
 
 Whose beauty she could not describe." 
 
 "Nor tell you 
 Of its location ? " 
 
 " It is both adjacent 
 To this dull orb, and at removes therefrom, — 
 Somewhat as it may please the immigrant 
 To pitch his tent, near or remote from kindred." 
 
 " 'Tis very likely some would rest as well 
 
 At a good stone's-throw from their relatives — 
 
 Quite out of hearing of the whir and murmur 
 
 Of this ill-kept soul-factory, whose windows — 
 
 Stained with the sullen mixtures of the shop. 
 
 So they be scarcely more than half translucent — 
 
 Perhaps the idle boys are knocking in, 
 
 Rather than angels opening ; and whose workmen, 
 
 Each on his wedding-robe or shroud engaged, 
 
 Are all so busy with their toils or gossip, 
 
 They seldom lift their eyes to see the angels. 
 
 Who bend so pityingly and fondly o'er them. 
 
THE MORNING STAR. 1 3/ 
 
 Or shall I rather name the Earth an iceberg, 
 On which the heavenly flocks may sometimes light, 
 But will full soon spread out their flashing pinions 
 To find a warmer perch ? " 
 
 " Nor may we blame them, 
 Snice they could win no sign of recognition 
 From our dull organs. Yet they are not moved 
 By selfishness like men, but hover round, 
 As doth a mother-bird about her nest, 
 Eager to lodge a grain of heavenly truth 
 In our blind, gaping souls, still fondly hoping 
 That we shall finally behold their faces." 
 
 " Do they at all times thus invest us ? " 
 
 " No ;— 
 Save that a subtle thread of consciousness 
 Attends them in their travels, not unlike 
 The gossamer, which prudent spiders leave 
 Behind them in their flights, or telegraph. 
 Which armies, those huge spiders, draw along, 
 In their marauding march. But these with love 
 Thus bridge their partial absence, and secure 
 A swift return if dangers call, or grief 
 Pull at their heart-strings. Rather, I might say. 
 To speak profoundly, God who is that Sea 
 Of spiritual fire, out of whom all things 
 Have sprung, and in whom they subsist, when moved 
 By our distress or want, as with a wave 
 Of light, or instant pulse of gravity, 
 Touches their hearts with sense of our desire. 
 
138 THE MORNING STAR. 
 
 And speeds them on the sunbeams of His love 
 To our relief." 
 
 " Have they no dwelling-place, 
 No mansion in their Father's ample House, 
 Where kindred souls may twine congenial thoughts 
 About some darling interest, unstarred 
 By lesser loves ? " 
 
 "I asked my fair informant 
 If she had such a home to call her own ; 
 And she replied, ' I have, a lovely one.' " 
 
 " Did you inquire its nature ? " 
 
 "Ah ! my friend. 
 Such questions, born of curiosity 
 Rather than true heart-hunger, touching love, 
 Sometimes breed curious answers. If the wise 
 Are speaking, they may say they cannot tell : 
 But with a change of spirit in our minds. 
 The way is opened for a change without ; 
 And while one hesitates, being unwilling 
 To give us disappointment or reproof, 
 Another from the crowd of witnesses. 
 Not all benign, around us, may breathe forth 
 Some vain conceit, or touch the soft antennae 
 With which the spirit feels its way to knowledge, 
 As mischief-loving boys annoy the snail, 
 Slow journeying with his house upon his back, 
 To see him slink into his tortuous hall." 
 
THE MORNING STAR. 139 
 
 "Wherein, if this be true, does Heaven excel 
 
 This mocking world of sense, where Truth and Error 
 
 Play foot-ball with our minds, till nothing seems 
 
 Assured but doubt and ambigjuity ? 
 
 O how our spirits yearn for some abode, 
 
 Where nothing false or hurtful can invade ! — 
 
 Where the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary 
 
 Find rest ! But now these sad revealings come 
 
 To rob us of that hope, and make us doubt 
 
 If death than life be better ! Were this gospel 
 
 Ordained of God, should it bring forth such fruits ? " 
 
 Did that aforetime sent make peace or conflict 
 
 Its opening act ? Dealt it with only men. 
 
 Or with the principalities and powers 
 
 Of populous Ether? What if the still haven 
 
 To life's tumultuous sea be in a heart 
 
 Centered on God, amid the bellowing storms 
 
 Of elemental havoc and disaster ? 
 
 An outward peace may come, compatible 
 
 With inward harmony, time adequate 
 
 Being allowed for life's adjoining spheres, 
 
 To break the waves of conflict from below. 
 
 Such is, at least, our grateful theory 
 
 Of life, perhaps more puerile than fair : — 
 
 For who, like God, still battles with the might 
 
 Of fiercest Hell ? or who, like Adam, feels 
 
 The sting of sin in his last grand-child's heart ? 
 
 O'er ever-widening areas of light 
 
 With Christ to reign, is bliss enough for hope. 
 
I40 THE MORNING STAR. 
 
 Heaven walks unharmed through subterranean fires, 
 And Hell through Eden's balmy fields unchanged." 
 
 " What final fortune waits those acrid spirits 
 Which not e'en death or sight of Heaven can purge 
 Of their deep-seated bitterness and woe ? 
 Some light on this grave question should be shed 
 By these eye-witnesses of destiny." 
 
 " I asked a noble angel, and he said : 
 
 ' They live forever.' Thereat being grieved. 
 
 Because I wished them dead or well-converted, 
 
 I spoke another, and he did confirm 
 
 That dread, and straitly charge that I teach 
 
 No other doctrine. Having still a doubt, — 
 
 So hard it is to give away our mind, 
 
 And judging that the spirit carries with it, 
 
 Full long, the firm opinions held in Earth, — 
 
 I asked my sister if she knew of any 
 
 Deemed wise in Heaven who held another view ? 
 
 She said she did not, but would ascertain 
 
 If such there were, and give me information. 
 
 So after many days, when from my thoughts 
 
 The theme had passed, she came again and said : 
 
 ' It is impossible for you to know 
 
 The final of the lost ones. We can give 
 
 Our thoughts, our best impressions of the truth; 
 
 But for the infinite and the eternal 
 
 God only is sufficient.' Then I ceased. 
 
 Feeling, in my own consciousness, that Truth 
 
 Had sDoken." 
 
THE MORNING STAR. I4I 
 
 " Does not the good Father speak 
 Distinctly, and allay His children's doubts ? " 
 
 " God speaks in life and light, leaving our organs 
 
 To give embodiment unto His Word. 
 
 But, varying in their action, or impressed 
 
 With previous conceptions, these attribute 
 
 Diversity of feature and expression 
 
 To that which comes from God. What is essential 
 
 To our integrity and happiness 
 
 Is with all needful certainty defined ; 
 
 And for the rest it harms not if we differ, 
 
 So Charity forget not her sweet office. 
 
 Both men and angels view the face of God, 
 
 In radiance of moral truths disclosed. 
 
 As loving students read the face of Nature, 
 
 Feeding on themes adapted to their taste, 
 
 And leaving somewhat for the morrow's study." 
 
 "What meanest thou by angels ? Are there none 
 Of higher rank than such as once were men ? " 
 
 '' Three of the four to whom I put the question 
 
 Gave negative repHes. The last, a spirit 
 
 Of loftiest inspiration in his youth. 
 
 Averred he had both seen and talked with such. 
 
 " From these successes it doth not appear 
 That all the books of Wisdom will be laid 
 Open to our inspection by this key, 
 
142 THE MORNING STAR. 
 
 Even if placed in wise and honest hands ; — 
 
 Perhaps but little more than could be read 
 
 By due attention to that subtle Beam 
 
 Which is not barred by flesh, but which informs 
 
 Alike both men and angels, making use 
 
 Of all the vast and wondrous artistry 
 
 Of Nature's intricate loom to shadow forth 
 
 The heavenly principles and substances 
 
 Which underlie the fabric of our visions. 
 
 A hint perhaps to help us in our musings, 
 
 A token of sweet sympathizing love, 
 
 A word of cheer, may sometimes be vouchsafed. 
 
 To break the weariness of death's long silence. 
 
 But chiefly through the normal avenues 
 
 Of thought and feeling, which should ever lie 
 
 Wide open upward, our celestial friends. 
 
 Should hold communion with us, satisfied 
 
 With that which God enjoys, and thus escape 
 
 The dangers and embarrassments which spring 
 
 From contact with life's lower elements. 
 
 Thus, like a pure transparent atmosphere 
 
 Surrounding this beclouded world of sense. 
 
 They may transmit the radiance of Heaven 
 
 Unto our souls, less colored by their own 
 
 Peculiar views, — thus in our joys rejoice. 
 
 And, with divine benignity, allay 
 
 Our sorrows, leaving all our members free 
 
 To do their proper work, unawed by weight 
 
 Of foreign power. This mortal still is weak, 
 
 And ill can bear the welding fires which knit 
 
 The golden links that bind the Earth to Heaven." 
 
THE MORNING STAR. 1 43 
 
 " My friend, thou speakest with the subtlety 
 
 Of one that has seen sorrow and has walked 
 
 With Disappointment, arm in arm, and watched 
 
 Her shadowy finger, as with solemn mien, 
 
 She points to Wisdom's low but fruitful path, 
 
 And to the hem of that celestial robe 
 
 Whose Wearer, from the pressure of our wants 
 
 And our infirmities, we cannot reach. 
 
 Touch it and be content, and from thy soul 
 
 The wasting flow, the mining wretchedness, 
 
 May cease, and joy and thanks to Heaven ascend, 
 
 A sweeter sacrifice than useless grief. 
 
 The sum of that which I propound is this. 
 
 That man, as God's true child, by Nature first 
 
 And afterwards by grace, is made joint heir 
 
 With Christ of being's two-fold, wedded realm ; 
 
 To which inheritance he will arrive 
 
 At his majority, when Heavenly Truth, 
 
 Ascending and descending on the Earth 
 
 By every round of progress fairly won, 
 
 Has made him free indeed. " All things to me 
 
 Are lawful," said the noble citizen 
 
 Both of Jerusalem and Rome, To this 
 
 High standard we are called — by Reason's light, 
 
 And that diviner Beam which doth inform 
 
 Reason and conscience, acting on the words . 
 
 Spoken of God, and all the gathered mass 
 
 Of man's experience, to prove all things, 
 
 And hold fast the expedient, the good. 
 
 Then from thought's radiant summits we may see 
 
144 THE MORNING STAR. 
 
 Jerusalem descending as a bride 
 
 From Heaven, adorned to meet her Lord ; then join 
 
 The universal anthem of her saints, 
 
 Rolling from land to land from sphere to sphere : — 
 
 " Maker of all things and Thyself the bond 
 
 Invisible between life's various ranks. 
 
 We crown Thee Lord of being's boundless Realm ! 
 
 From Earth's rich harvest-fields and Heaven's bright 
 
 bowers, 
 No longer severed by the ocean widths 
 Of death, we lift accordant songs of praise. 
 Triumphing in His might beneath whose feet 
 Error and wrong lie crushed, w^hile nations rise 
 Emancipated from the servile yoke 
 Of ignorance and sin ! Hail radiant Sun 
 Of Righteousness and Truth ! breaking at last 
 In glory through the morning shades, to give 
 Peace, light and freedom to a ransomed World ! 
 Sole Heir of the eternities ! of God 
 Only Begotten ! to Thy rightful sway 
 All things at last shall bow in Earth and Heaven ! 
 Death owns Thee King ! the Grave acknowledges 
 Thy sovereignty and her vast plunder yields 
 To swell the glory of Thy conquering train, 
 As with archangels and the countless host 
 Of Thy Celestial Empire Thou again 
 Dost pay mankind divine respect — not now 
 In sorrow and humility to plead 
 With a rebellious and unthankful race, 
 But as Bridegroom hastening to his Bride, 
 
THE MORNING STAR. I45 
 
 Thou ridest through the purple gates of morn, 
 In chariot of gold with sapphires crowned, 
 Gathering night's jewels, like golden sheaf, 
 Into thy bosom — Star of Morning Thou, 
 And of the Day, Immortal Son of God ! " 
 
 When Soul is sick and Heart is sad 
 
 And spirits go a- sighing j 
 When Hope is blind and Reason mad 
 
 And Fear and DoilM are lying ; 
 And Love a-swooniitg o'er the tomb 
 
 Can neither sleep nor waken, 
 O what can make the Cyprus bloom, 
 
 Or heal the hearth forsaken ? 
 
 Let Natitre pour her softest balms 
 
 And tune her sweetest voices y 
 Let Ocean chant his grandest psalms 
 
 Till every isle rejoices j 
 Let meadows bloom and orchards blush ; 
 
 Let Earth deck all her daughters ; 
 Let fountains leap and torrents rush 
 
 With joy of living waters ; 
 
 Let Day and Night in festive mood 
 Pour oict their richest treasures, 
 And sight and science fire the blood 
 
 With their amazing measures j — 
 And is the heart by these made whoky 
 
 That hath no heart within it ? 
 
'4^ THE MORNING STAR. 
 
 O, soulless Heai't ! O^ heartless Soul ! 
 J^oy withers ere I win it ! 
 
 Go forth and join the J7ianly strife 
 
 Where passion graiidly blazes ! 
 Let action swell the stream of life, 
 
 And sweep its stagnant mazes I 
 Rock out thy spirifs bitterness 
 
 On life's tumultuous ocean, 
 And quench its void and vain distress 
 
 With power s sublime emotion ! 
 
 Where wreath or crown with silvery light 
 
 On every hill is shini7ig, 
 And hopes attained new hopes ijicite, 
 
 O, who should sit repinifig ? 
 There's Joy in action, storm and haste, 
 
 In gaining and in giving I 
 And if one blossom is laid waste., 
 
 There still are many living ! — 
 
 Alas I alas I the soul is deep, — 
 
 So 7iought but God is deeper ! 
 When Peace a?id J^oy there fall asleep 
 
 Ca?i conflict wake the sleeper ? 
 The World may fret, or smile, or foam, — 
 
 ' Tis but a traveler s story ! — 
 The heart which keeps its fire at home 
 
 Alone finds rest and glory ! 
 
THE MORNING STAR. 1 4/ 
 
 Then imvard, inward tm^?i for might I 
 
 Below thy deepest sorrow 
 There is a Fountain filled with lights 
 
 Where sleeps a fair to-morrow ! 
 Earth may not bid that morrow live, 
 
 Or still thy bosom's yearning ; 
 But He who built love's fire can give 
 
 The fuel to its burning ! 
 
 If on the wreck of mortal good 
 
 Thy thoughts i7i darkness ponder ; 
 If o'er death's awful solitude 
 
 Thy fainting spirit wander ; 
 Crushed by thy burden to the sod, 
 
 Led like the lamb to slaughter, 
 Still nearer press thy soul on God, 
 
 For THERE is living water I 
 
 Since Sin unlocked the door of Death, 
 
 And plumed his somber pinion. 
 Each flake that floats on Time's cold breath, 
 
 Afust own his pale dominion j 
 But since the Lord on Calvary 
 
 Repulsed his fiercest dashes, 
 Through mourning flows the oil of joy, 
 
 And beauty springs from ashes ! 
 
 O, Heart and Hope I then bide yoitr time ! 
 
 There is a season waiting, 
 When Life, returning to her pri^ne. 
 
148 THE MORNING STAR. 
 
 Shall feel no more abating j 
 When He who lets the tear -tides flow, 
 
 Will bid joy s currents chase them, 
 And all your jewels missed below, 
 Above ye shall embrace them ! 
 
 For Love He is the King of kings ! 
 
 The Soul's delightful Lover ! 
 And all who hide beneath His zaings, 
 
 He will from grief recover I 
 And he whose faith, mid drought and gloom, 
 
 Still roots in truth and duty, 
 Shall crown his brow with Edeiis bloom, 
 
 And kiss the King of Beauty ! 
 
 And as He bends His glory down, 
 
 To smile away our sadness, 
 The stars that glimmer in His crown 
 
 Shall twinkle forth their gladness, 
 And whisper from their bowers above, 
 
 " Rejoice ! To Love is given 
 The victory ! — for God is Love, 
 
 And Love is Home and Heaven ! " 
 
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