" Never yet was a spring-time 
 
 When the buds forgot to blow " 
 
 rp.4 
 
EASTER BELLS 
 
 Ipoems 
 
 BY -^ SJ^ 
 
 MARGARET E. SANGSTER 
 
 ILLUSTRATED 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 HARPER AND BROTHERS 
 
 MDCCCXCVII 
 
 r». 
 
 V\^MO -^ 
 
 A 
 
^y^ 
 ^^"^.v . 
 ,^,^"^^ 
 
 By MRS. SANGSTER. 
 
 WITH MY NEIGHBORS. i6mo, Cloth, Ornamental, $i 25. 
 
 ON THE ROAD HOME. Poems. Illustrated. i6mo, 
 Cloth, Ornamental, $1 25. 
 
 LITTLE KNIGHTS AND LADIES. Poems. Illus- 
 trated. i6mo. Cloth, Ornamental, $1 25. 
 
 HOME FAIRIES AND HEART FLOWERS. Illus- 
 trated. 4to, Cloth, Ornamental, $6 00. 
 
 Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York. 
 
 \ c^' ^ %l lc>6 
 
 Copyright, 1897, by HARPER & BROTHERS. 
 All rights reserved. 
 
TO 
 MY DEAR FRIEND 
 
 CORNELIA REMSEN JOHNSON 
 
 THESE SIMPLE VERSES 
 
 ^re Hobinslg JEnscrfljetr 
 
The poems here gathered, originally ap- 
 peared in the several publications of 
 Messrs. HARPER & BROTHERS, or in The 
 Cosmopolitan Magazine, The YotttFs Companion, 
 The Congregationalist, The Christian Intelli- 
 gencer, and The Simday-School Times, 
 
I 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 Part I— SONGS OF THE EASTER-TIDE 
 
 Page 
 
 EASTER BELLS 3 
 
 AWAKENING .......... 4 
 
 GETHSEMANE 5 
 
 GOOD-FRIDAY 7 
 
 AN EASTER SONG Q 
 
 *'WHO ROSE AGAIN FROM THE DEAD" . II 
 
 THE SPLENDOR OF LILIES I4 
 
 EASTER CHORDS I5 
 
 UNDER THE CLOUD 18 
 
 ANGELS 20 
 
 WHEN SPRING COMES BACK 22 
 
 AN EASTER IDYL 24 
 
 IN THE SHADOW 28 
 
 A DREAM 30 
 
 A WAY-SIDE GRAVE 3 1 
 
Page 
 
 comfort one another 33 
 
 god's way 35 
 
 easter flowers 37 
 
 Part II— HOME AND HEARTH 
 love's kingdom . , 41 
 
 WHEN POLLY PLAYED FOR DANCING . 42 
 
 WEDDED HANDS -44 
 
 THE AMBULANCE -45 
 
 THE HOME-BOUND SHIP 46 
 
 A COQUETTE 47 
 
 CAMP ECHOES 48 
 
 THE REASON 50 
 
 THREE BASKETS 51 
 
 CONVALESCENT 53 
 
 HER LETTER 54 
 
 BON VOYAGE ! 56 
 
 SNOWDROP AND CROCUS 58 
 
 VIOLETS 59 
 
 A CLUSTER OF ROSES TO A FRIEND . . 60 
 THE BLOOM OF THE CACTUS .... 62 
 
 INFELIX 64 
 
 DAY BY DAY .66 
 
 THE OLD SCHOOL-HOUSE 68 
 
Page 
 
 THE mother's chair 7 1 
 
 THE LETTER SHE DID NOT WRITE . . 73 
 
 THE UNRETURNING 75 
 
 THANKSGIVING 77 
 
 Part III— MILE-STONES 
 
 CHRISTMAS 8l 
 
 AUTUMN PLOUGHING 83 
 
 THE CHRISTMAS ANGELS 85 
 
 HOLLY AND PINE 87 
 
 MISS LUCINDA'S OPINION ..... 89 
 
 OF ALL DEAR DAYS 92 
 
 IN BETHLEHEM 95 
 
 A CHRISTMAS THOUGHT 97 
 
 OCTOBER 99 
 
 A THANKSGIVING FEAST IOC 
 
 GARDENS 103 
 
 AUTUMN DAYS IO5 
 
 THE LOVING-CUP I07 
 
 THE DAYS WHEN NOTHING HAPPENS . IIO 
 
 GOOD-NIGHT. . 112 
 
 THE NEW YEAR II4 
 
 AT THE PARTING OF THE WAYS . . . II6 
 
 THE THINNING RANKS II8 
 
Part IV— CLOSET AND ALTAR 
 
 JESUS WENT BEFORE 123 
 
 NOT READY 124 
 
 JOINT HEIRS 125 
 
 THE DEAREST ONE . 127 
 
 A SONG OF THE BURDEN BEARER . . 129 
 
 VESPERS 131 
 
 ONE STEP AT A TIME I33 
 
 THE WORD SHE REMEMBERED. . . . I36 
 
 TE DEUM LAUDAMUS ....... I37 
 
 THINE IS THE POWER I39 
 
 A THOUGHT I40 
 
 FOLDED HANDS . I4I 
 
 THE CURTAIN FALLS I43 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 " NEVER YET WAS A SPRING-TIME WHEN 
 
 THE BUDS FORGOT TO BLOW " Frontispiece 
 
 MAIDEN BERTHA Facing p. 52 
 
 "the dear OLD GARDENS . . . WHERE 
 
 MOTHER USED TO POTTER ABOUT" 
 
 Facing p. I04 
 
 **IN THE FIELDS ARE SILENCE AND 
 
 PERFUME " , Facing p. 1 32 
 
Ipatt H 
 
 SONGS OF THE EASTER-TIDE 
 
EASTER BELLS 
 
 Chime, solemn bells of Easter! 
 
 The shadows flee away, 
 And all the earth is smiling 
 
 In the glory of the day. 
 
 Ring, tender bells of Easter ! 
 
 Beyond our toil and tears. 
 There wait for all the faithful 
 
 Heaven's long and happy years. 
 
 Break, joyous bells of Easter ! 
 
 From far across the sea 
 Bring us the endless music 
 
 Of immortality. 
 
 Triumphant bells of Easter ! 
 
 Again by angels rung, 
 Speak comfort to the sorrowing 
 
 Of every land and tongue. 
 3 
 
Blend, golden bells of Easter ! 
 
 Heaven's fairest and its best, 
 To hush earth's clamorous discords 
 
 And soothe earth's sad unrest. 
 
 AWAKENING 
 
 Never yet was a spring-time, 
 Late though lingered the snow, 
 
 That the sap stirred not at the whisper 
 Of the south wind, sweet and low j 
 
 Never yet was a spring-time 
 
 When the buds forgot to blow. 
 
 Ever the wings of the summer 
 Are folded under the mould 5 
 
 Life, that has known no dying, 
 Is Love's, to have and to hold, 
 
 Till sudden, the bourgeoning Easter ! 
 The song ! the green and the gold ! 
 
GETHSEMANE 
 
 The dew lay thick on thorn and flower, 
 And where the oHves clustered gray 
 
 Weird shapes, within that awesome hour 
 Between the midnight and the day, 
 
 Seemed walking phantom-like abroad, 
 
 As if to vex the Son of God. 
 
 And all the city lay asleep, 
 
 O'er beast and bird the spell was cast. 
 And nothing stirred the silence deep, 
 
 Save where our Lord the vigil passed ^ 
 The long lone vigil when His prayer 
 Was uttered from a heart's despair. 
 
 " Oh, watch with me one little hour !'' 
 His tender tones had pleading cried 
 
 Unto the faithful three, whose dower 
 Of love had kept them near His side. 
 
 Nay — folded hands and drooping head. 
 
 And slumber — quiet as the dead. 
 5 
 
No wonder then for weariness 
 The second time they fall asleep, 
 
 He turns in very tenderness, 
 
 And leaves them to repose so deep ; 
 
 Alone He meets the serpent foe, 
 
 Alone He bears the bitter woe. 
 
 Gethsemane ! Gethsemane ! 
 
 We see the glory and the gloom ! 
 Through all thy pain and agony, 
 
 Thy garden wears immortal bloom. 
 'Twas human friendship failed Him there. 
 But Love Divine did hear His prayer. 
 
 Life's bitter cups we too must take, 
 Life's bitter bread in anguish eat ,• 
 
 But when our hearts are like to break 
 There comes to us a whisper sweet, 
 
 " Fear thou no dim Gethsemane 5 
 
 Thy sleepless Friend will watch with thee!'' 
 
GOOD-FRIDAY 
 
 Be hushed, my heart, remembering 
 What dole was given for thee, 
 
 How pressed on Him thy burden, when. 
 
 For all the sinful sons of men, 
 Christ went to Calvary. 
 
 The mournful journey that He made. 
 
 Each step was taken for thee. 
 Be hushed, my heart, let clamor cease 5 
 Prepare a chamber white with peace. 
 His resting-place to be. 
 
 In solemn shadow of the cross, 
 
 O soul, abide till He 
 Who tasted death ere thou shouldst know 
 Its bitterness of utmost woe 
 
 With strength shall guerdon thee. 
 7 
 
Its Via Dolorosa still 
 
 Each life of earth must see, 
 And in some hour, or soon or late. 
 Must bend beneath the crushing weight 
 Of earth's Gethsemane. 
 
 But heart, in love and prayer look up 
 
 Beyond the awesome tree 5 
 The heaven of heavens is reft to-day j 
 All angels march the starry way 
 
 That leads from Calvary. 
 
 For conquering, the Lord of life 
 
 (His mighty legions free) 
 Goes forward while the ages roll 5 
 The price of every ransomed soul 
 
 Full paid on Calvary. 
 
^ 
 
 AN EASTER SONG 
 
 The golden sun climbs up the sky, 
 
 The shadows flee away, 
 Oh ! weary heart, forget to sigh, 
 
 God sends thee Easter Day ! 
 Long was the night, chill was the air, 
 
 And grief o'er brooded long, 
 Yet is the new world white and fair. 
 
 Uplift thine Easter song ! 
 
 The cross that bowed thee with its weight 
 
 By strength of prayer is stirred, 
 Till it shall bear thee soon or late, 
 
 As wings upbear the bird. 
 The life that thrills from star to star. 
 
 And beats in leaf and stem. 
 Is wider than the heavens are. 
 
 And blesses thee from them. 
 
 Wert thou cast down, wert thou dismayed, 
 
 Dear child of One above. 
 Behold the earth in light arrayed, 
 
 The light of deathless love. 
 9 
 
Oh ! listen to the word that wakes 
 
 In every budding flower, 
 And take the bread the Master breaks, 
 
 In His triumphant hour. 
 
 Nor feel, dear one whom Jesus saves, 
 
 And heartens day by day, 
 That earth is but a place of graves, 
 
 A dim and dolorous wa)^ 
 As mothers hush their little ones, 
 
 God puts his own to sleep 5 
 
 And long as time is marked by suns, 
 Their beds His angels keep. 
 
 Not once a year alone, but oft 
 
 In all our years of days, 
 Shall fall the word or promise, soft 
 
 As hymns the blessed raise. 
 If but we bend the listening ear 
 
 To hear upon the strand 
 The wave-beat of the endless life. 
 
 Not far, but close at hand. 
 
 For those who hear, and hearing yearn, 
 The King hath secrets sweet 5 
 
 Their hearts within them thrill and burn, 
 They wait His coming feet. 
 
Then swift the sun climbs up the sky ! 
 
 The shadows flee away ! 
 Oh ! weary heart, forget to sigh, 
 
 God sends thee Easter Day! 
 
 "WHO ROSE AGAIN FROM THE 
 DEAD" 
 
 O Earth, forget thy winter j O Nature, bud 
 and bloom, 
 
 And clothe the slopes with greenness that 
 late were hung with gloom. 
 
 O clustered Easter lilies, your gleaming cen- 
 sers lift, 
 
 Forth comes the mighty Victor, the rocky 
 tomb to rift. 
 
 O gentle Easter angels, be sw^ift to greet the 
 
 day 
 When ftom the guarded chamber the stone 
 
 is rolled away. 
 And Christ the King steps onward, with 
 
 Death beneath him dead. 
 And leads His ransomed homeward, with 
 
 glory on His head. 
 
Three days ago they laid Him, all pulseless 
 
 on the bier -, 
 The thorn-marked brow was pallid j their 
 
 hearts stood still in fear. 
 Three days of solemn stillness, three days of 
 
 grief sublime, 
 A pause when seraphs waited to hear the 
 
 throbs of Time. 
 
 And now ? No burst of music, as when a 
 
 babe He came. 
 Though heaven is thrilled with rapture, and 
 
 cherub-anthems flame. 
 In soundless flight on sweeping, the shining 
 
 ones descend 
 To give our earth the key-note or songs 
 
 that shall not end. 
 
 What though there are who listen in vain 
 
 for voices hushed ? 
 What though there are who languish o'er 
 
 sweet hopes early crushed ? 
 Still peal the Easter chorals adown the lonely 
 
 years, 
 And yet the Easter promise hath solace for 
 
 our tears. 
 
The Christ for us hath conquered our one 
 
 relentless foe, 
 Our vanished ones forever with Him are 
 
 safe, we know. 
 O fragrant Easter lilies, like tapers fair ye 
 
 stand. 
 To light the silent portals that guard the 
 
 deathless land. 
 
 Haste, gentle Easter angels, who rolled the 
 
 stone away. 
 Come melt our loveless spirits, shame unbelief 
 
 this day. 
 And help us tread it under our footsteps as 
 
 we sing 
 The joyous hymns of Easter around our 
 
 risen King. 
 
THE SPLENDOR OF LILIES 
 
 Oh, rare as the splendor of lilies, 
 
 And sweet as the violet's breath, 
 Comes the jubilant morning of Easter, 
 
 The triumph of life over death 5 
 And fresh from the earth's quickened bosom 
 
 Full baskets of flowers we bring. 
 And scatter their satin soft petals 
 
 To carpet a path for our King. 
 
 In the countless green blades of the meadow, 
 
 The sheen of the daflrbdil's gold. 
 In the tremulous blue on the mountains, 
 
 The opaline mist on the wold. 
 In the tinkle of brooks through the pasture, 
 
 The river's strong sweep to the sea. 
 Are signs of the day that is hasting 
 
 In gladness to you and to me. 
 
 Oh, dawn in thy splendor of lilies. 
 
 Thy fluttering violet breath. 
 Oh, jubilant morning of Easter, 
 
 Thou triumph of life over death ! 
 Then fresh from the earth's quickened bosom 
 
 Full baskets of flowers we bring. 
 And scatter their satin soft petals 
 
 To carpet a path for our King. 
 14 
 
EASTER CHORDS 
 
 Christ the Lord is risen to-day ! 
 Sons of men and angels say, 
 Raise your joys and triumphs high, 
 Sing ye hea<vens, and earth reply. 
 
 Sweet, sweet and clear the dear old strain 
 across the aisles is pealing, 
 
 The choir uplifts its stately chords that 
 throb with tender feeling, 
 
 For never time as Easter time brings glad- 
 ness to our eyes, 
 
 When morning unto evening tells the rapt- 
 ure of the skies. 
 
 Lo've'^s redeeming njuork is done, 
 Fought the fight, the battle's njuon. 
 Lo! the suns eclipse is o'er, 
 Lo ! He sets in blood no more. 
 
 Again we read the wondrous tale, how on 
 
 the Cross they bound Him, 
 How Jew and Roman jeered and scoffed in 
 
 cruel throngs around Him, 
 15 
 
Till noon forgot its light in gloom and all 
 
 the world grew black, 
 While He who came to save us paid the 
 
 price with naught held back. 
 
 Vain the stone, the njjatch, the seal; 
 Christ hath burst the gates of hell! 
 Death in <vain forbids His rise, 
 Christ hath opened Paradise. 
 
 Oh ! listen, thrilling far and loud the Gloria 
 
 strains excelling, 
 For death for evermore is dead, triumphant 
 
 shouts are swelling. 
 They who have passed beyond the stream 
 
 and reached the other side, 
 Exult in life that never ends ; with Christ 
 
 are satisfied. 
 
 Hail, the Lord of earth and hea<ven ! 
 Praise to T^hee by both be gi^en! 
 nee ^we greet triumphant nonx) ; 
 Hail I the Resurrection Thou! 
 
 In solemn joy, in trustful hope, in faith that 
 
 cannot falter, 
 This Easter Day we bring our meed of 
 
 praises to God's altar. 
 i6 
 
All crowns are set on Christ's dear head, 
 the crown of thorns that wore ; 
 
 Forever and forever more our Saviour we 
 adore. 
 
 Oh I risen Lord victorious, oh ! Son of God 
 
 Most High, 
 Who for our sins did bear the yoke, who 
 
 came for us to die j 
 In Thee we conquer death and hell, in Thee 
 
 we rise and reign ; 
 Life throbs to-day victorious in every pulsing 
 
 vein. 
 
 We have no fear, \\q have no doubt, we read 
 
 redemption's story. 
 And earth and heaven together meet in 
 
 ecstasies of glory. 
 
UNDER THE CLOUD 
 
 Under the cloud we pass, 
 
 The cloud that dims our skies, 
 The hot tears blur our eyes, 
 
 We enter the cloud, alas ! 
 
 We mourn for our darling gone ; 
 For the days that come no more. 
 With her laugh at the dear home door j 
 
 We are desolate, being alone. 
 
 We sigh for the might-have-beens. 
 For the words we did not say — 
 Was it only yesterday? — 
 
 And memory sits and spins 
 
 A web that is like a shroud. 
 So thick and dark does it fold, 
 Woe for the tale that is told! 
 
 Like children we cry aloud. 
 
 i8 
 
\i 
 
 For when she was here, and yet 
 Our own, for love's sweet grace, 
 When the lighting up of her face 
 
 Could banish our dull regret 
 
 And give us surcease from pain, 
 We took as a common thing 
 (Ah ! there is the sharpened sting) 
 
 The touch, the look, the strain. 
 
 The music and cheer she gave — 
 And now she is gone aw^ay, 
 Lost into heaven's bright day 5 
 
 And we — plant flowers on her grave. 
 
 Aye, friends, we are under the cloud. 
 So w^hite, and chill, and thick. 
 And the heart grows faint and sick, 
 
 So fast do our wan thoughts crowd. 
 
 But the cloud has an upper side, 
 And somewhere out of the blue 
 Our darling is looking through, 
 
 And our sorrow is glorified. 
 
ANGELS 
 
 In the old days God sent His angels oft 
 To men in threshing-floors, to women 
 pressed 
 With daily tasks ^ they came to tent and 
 croft, 
 And whispered words of blessing and of 
 rest. 
 
 Not mine to guess what shape those angels 
 wore. 
 Nor tell what voice they spoke, nor with 
 what grace 
 They brought the dear love down that ever- 
 more 
 Makes lowliest souls its best abiding place. 
 
 But in these days I know my angels well ; 
 They brush my gai*ments on the common 
 way. 
 They take my hand, and very softly tell 
 Some bit of comfort in the waning day. 
 20 
 
And though their angel-names I do not ken, 
 Though in their faces human love I read, 
 
 They are God-given to this world of men, 
 God-sent to bless it in its hours of need. 
 
 Child, mother, dearest wife, brave hearts that 
 take 
 The rough and bitter cross, and help us 
 bear 
 Its heavy weight when strength is like to 
 break, 
 God bless you all, our angels unaware ! 
 
WHEN SPRING COMES BACK 
 
 When Spring comes back the violets lift 
 
 Their shyly hooded faces. 
 Where late the frozen snows adrift 
 
 Heaped high the woodland spaces. 
 When Spring comes back the sunbeams dance 
 
 On green leaves all a-quiver, 
 And grasses rally, spear and lance, 
 
 By rippling brook and river. 
 
 When Spring comes back the lilies haste. 
 
 What time the bells are ringing, 
 To bring their perfumes, pure and chaste, 
 
 From hallowed censers swinging. 
 Shine dim church aisles on Easter day 
 
 Beneath the lilied whiteness. 
 And happy children kneel and pray 
 
 Amid the serried brightness. 
 
 When Spring comes back a merry train. 
 Of merry wings come with her. 
 
 The robin and the wren again 
 Come gayly flitting hither j 
 
The bluebird and the oriole, 
 
 The martin and the swallow. 
 " Away," they chant, " with grief and dole. 
 
 Here's spring, and summer '11 follow !'' 
 
 When Spring comes back, when Spring comes 
 back, 
 
 Chill winter will be over ! 
 Erelong we'll hear the elfin drums 
 
 Where bees are deep in clover. 
 After we catch the swaying lilt 
 
 Of winds among the daisies, 
 And see the rose-cups' sweetness spilt 
 
 Among the garden mazes. 
 
AN EASTER IDYL 
 
 Many a year the Easter came, laughing o'er 
 land and sea, 
 Wafting the perfume of lilies wherever its 
 dawn-light fell, 
 Kindling the flames of the roses, and waving 
 their torches free, 
 Far over hill and mountain, and deep in 
 the lonesome dell. 
 
 And many a year at Easter I sat in the old 
 church loft, 
 And lifted my voice in Te Deums, and 
 sang like a mavis clear, 
 Sang of glory and triumph, and my voice 
 thrilled sweet and soft, 
 O ! many a time in the Easter of many a 
 cloudless year. 
 
 Till there fell a season of anguish, when the 
 stars went out in the sky, 
 When I covered my face, and bent my 
 knees, and beat with a hopeless prayer 
 24 
 
At the golden gates of heaven that were 
 shut to my bitter cry, 
 While the Angel of Death at my threshold 
 was deaf to my love's despair. 
 
 Then, straight on that wild, bleak winter 
 there followed the fairest spring, 
 With snowdrops and apple blossoms in 
 riotous haste to bloom, 
 With the sudden note of the robin, and the 
 flash of the bluebird's wing ; — 
 And all that was mine of its beauty was 
 the turf that covered a tomb. 
 
 O ! the bells rang out for Easter, rang strong 
 and sweet and shrill, 
 And the organ's rolling thunder pealed 
 through the long church aisle. 
 And the children fluttered with flowers, and 
 I sat mute and still, 
 I who had clean forgotten both how to 
 pray and to smile. 
 
 And I murmured in fierce rebellion: "There 
 is naught that endures below, 
 Naught but the lamentations that are rent 
 from souls in pain j'' 
 25 
 
And the joy of the Easter music, it struck 
 on my ears like a blow, 
 For I knew that my day was over, I could 
 never be glad again ! 
 
 And then — how it happened I know not — 
 there was One in my sight who stood. 
 And lo ! on His brow was the thorn-print, in 
 His hands were the nails' rough scars. 
 And the shadow that lay before Him was 
 the shade of the holy rood, 
 But the glow in His eyes was deeper than 
 the light of the morning stars. 
 
 " Daughter," He said, '* have comfort ! Arise ! 
 keep Easter-tide ! 
 I, for thy sins who suffered and died on 
 the cruel tree, 
 I, who was dead, am living j no evil shall e'er 
 betide 
 Those who, in earth or heaven, are pledged 
 unto life with Me/' 
 
 Now I wake to a holier Easter, happier than 
 of old. 
 And again my voice is lifted in Te Deums 
 sweet and strong ^ 
 26 
 
I send it to join the anthem in the wonderful 
 city of gold, 
 Where the hymns of the ransomed forever 
 are timed to the Easter song. 
 
 And I can be glad with the gladness that is 
 born of a perfect peace 5 
 On the strength of the Strong I am resting j 
 I know that His will is best. 
 And who that has found that secret from 
 darkness has won release, 
 And even in sorrow's exile may lift up her 
 eyes and be blessed. 
 
 }h 
 
IN THE SHADOW 
 
 We walk within the shadow, and we feel its 
 
 thickening fold 
 That wraps us round and holds us close, a 
 
 cloak against the coldj 
 The day is growing sombre, and the joyous 
 
 light has fled. 
 And beneath our feet the road is rough, and 
 
 clouds are overhead. 
 
 We sit within the shadow, and in that silence 
 
 dumb, 
 To us in softened echoes remembered voices 
 
 come ; 
 Dear eyes that closed in slumber once, dear 
 
 hands that straightened lie, 
 Awaken tender yearnings as the day wanes 
 
 slowly by. 
 
 We rest within the shadow, though the 
 
 hurrying people go 
 On errands swift for gold and gain, beyond 
 
 us, to and fro j 
 
 28 
 
We have no care for transient things j we 
 
 wish no more to strive 
 As once we did 5 we rest, we dream, we feel 
 
 but half aUve. 
 
 Our resting and our waiting, and our plodding 
 
 on the way, 
 With the sunshine of the past casting 
 
 darkness on to-day, 
 With no caring for the future, while the 
 
 heartache holds us fast, 
 With no thought for any pleasure — ah ! 'tis 
 
 w^ell these cannot last. 
 
 For the shadow always lifts, and the sunlight 
 
 glows again j 
 There are sudden gleams of brightness, sweet 
 
 clear shining after rain ,• 
 And we gird ourselves for action, strengthened 
 
 we arise and go 
 From the sanctuary outward, where the feet 
 
 tramp to and fro. 
 
 Life must have its sometime sorrow j but 
 
 the years that drift along 
 Touch the minor chords but seldom ,• there 
 
 are spaces blithe with song. 
 29 
 
Sometimes we must face the shadow, where 
 the wind blows keen and cold, 
 
 But the shadow fades at dawning, and the 
 east is flecked with gold. 
 
 A DREAM 
 
 Some perfect day I shall not need 
 
 To bend my brows o'er baffling tasks 5 
 
 Some perfect day my eyes will read 
 
 The meaning hid 'neath clouding masks 5 
 
 Some perfect day my word and deed 
 Will fill the ideal my spirit asks. 
 
 Dear perfect day of days to be. 
 
 Which safe the steadfast heaven doth keep 
 Deep filled with love and rest for me. 
 
 Close pressed with sheaves I yet shall reap, 
 When they who watch beside me see 
 
 Only that I have fallen asleep. 
 
A WAY-SIDE GRAVE 
 
 Our upland journey wound Its way 
 Past hills that wore the green of May. 
 
 The dogwood starred the shado\\y copse 5 
 The light breeze rocked the pine-tree tops. 
 
 Far off we saw the village spires 
 
 And fluttering smoke of household fires. 
 
 But here of voice or tool no sound 
 Fell on the cloistered hush profound. 
 
 Sudden I drew my bridle rein, 
 
 Dim, shining out from moss and stain, 
 
 Alone amid a fallow field. 
 
 And half by brier and weed concealed, 
 
 I saw a rough stone cross that bore 
 One little dear home name ^ no more. 
 31 
 
Some heart had ached, some house had known 
 The desolate hunger for its own, 
 
 When, hollowed out this narrow grave, 
 They laid, whom love had died to save 
 
 But could not, one whose name had been 
 To her own people "Josephine." 
 
 A ruined chimney, and the bloom 
 Of a pale purple lilac plume 
 
 Close by, and this small way-side cross 
 Told all the tale of love and loss ,• 
 
 While near and far the fragrant day 
 Was golden glimmering with May. 
 
COMFORT ONE ANOTHER 
 
 Comfort one another ; 
 
 For the way is growing dreary, 
 
 The feet are often weary, 
 And the heart is very sad. 
 
 There is heavy burden-bearing. 
 
 When it seems that none are caring, 
 And we half forget that ever we were glad. 
 
 Comfort one another 
 
 With the hand-clasp close and tender. 
 With the sweetness love can render, 
 
 And the look of friendly eyes. 
 
 Do not wait with grace unspoken ,• 
 While life's daily bread is broken, 
 Gentle speech is oft like manna from the 
 skies. 
 
 Comfort one another 5 
 
 There are words of music ringing 
 Down the ages, sweet as singing 
 3 33 
 
Of the happy choirs above. 
 
 Ransomed saint and mighty angel 
 Lift the grand, deep-voiced evangel, 
 Where forever they are praising the Eternal 
 Love. 
 
 Comfort one another; 
 
 By the hope of Him who sought us 
 In our peril — Him who bought us. 
 Paying with His precious blood ; 
 By the faith that will not alter, 
 Trusting strength that shall not falter. 
 Leaning on the One divinely good. 
 
 Comfort one another ; 
 
 Let the grave-gloom lie behind you, 
 While the Spirit's words remind you 
 Of the home beyond the tomb. 
 
 Where no more is pain or parting, 
 Fever's flush or tear-drops starting. 
 But the presence of the Lord, and for all 
 His people room. 
 
GOD'S WAY 
 
 Our way had been to smooth her upward 
 road, 
 
 Easing the pressure of each heavy load, 
 
 Never to let her white hand know a soil, 
 Never her heart to feel the weight of toil. 
 
 Could we have shielded her from every care, 
 Kept her -forever young and blithe and fair, 
 
 And from her body warded every pain. 
 As from her spirit all distress and strain, 
 
 This had been joy of joys, our chosen way. 
 God led her by a different path 5 each day 
 
 Sorrow and work and anxious care He gave, 
 And strife and anguish, till her soul grew 
 brave. 
 
 35 
 
Through weary nights she leaned upon His 
 
 love, 
 Through cloudy days she fixed her gaze 
 
 above. 
 
 Her dearest vanished, but in faith and trust 
 She knew them safe beyond the perished dust. 
 
 Refined by suffering, like a little child 
 
 She grew ,♦ into her Father's face she smiled. 
 
 And then, one day of days, an angel came ; 
 In flute-notes sweet she heard him breathe 
 her name. 
 
 Perhaps from out the rifted heaven she saw 
 Her mother's face look forth 5 in raptured 
 awe 
 
 We caught the last swift glory in her eyes, 
 Ere, sleeping here, she woke in Paradise. 
 
 God's way was best, with reverent lips we 
 
 ^say, 
 God's way is best, and praise our God to-day. 
 
EASTER FLOWERS 
 
 Blooming to garland Easter, 
 
 White as the drifted snows, 
 Are the beautiful vestal lilies, 
 
 The myriad-petaled rose, „ 
 
 Carnations with hearts of fire, 
 
 And the heather's fragrant spray — 
 Blooming to garland Easter, ^ 
 
 And strew our King's highway. . 
 
 Late we had gloom and sorrow, • '" 
 
 But the word from Heaven forth 
 
 Has scattered the clouds before it i 
 
 Like a trumpet blown from the north ,• ' 
 
 ■ F 
 
 To garland the blithesome Easter, 
 And strew the King's highway. 
 
 ■ 37 
 
 And east and west and southward ■' ' 
 
 The flowers arise to-day 
 
Carry the flowers of Easter 
 
 To the darkened house of woe, 
 With their message of strength and comfort 
 
 Let the lilies of Easter go j 
 Scatter the Easter blossoms 
 
 In the little children's way ^ 
 Let want and pain and w^eakness 
 
 Be cheered on our Easter day. 
 
 For lilac, and rose, and bluebell, 
 
 And whatever name they wear. 
 The spell of the flowers of Easter 
 
 Is a spell to banish care ,• 
 And blooming to garland Easter, 
 
 They will shine in church to-day, 
 The lovely things that have awakened 
 
 To deck our King's highway. 
 
©art II ir 
 
 HOME AND HEARTH 
 
LOVE'S KINGDOM 
 
 You see no pomp of circumstance, 
 
 No entourage of pride, 
 My lowly seeming to enhance 
 
 As I walk by your side. 
 All day, at others' beck and call, 
 
 My work obscure is done, 
 But off my shabby garments fall 
 When comes the set of sun 
 
 You may not know it, friend, but then 
 
 I, walking by your side. 
 Am crowned and sceptred, king of men. 
 
 Let none my state deride ; 
 For when I turn my own latch-key 
 
 My wife is at the stair, 
 The baby claps her hands with glee, 
 
 And I am royal there. 
 
WHEN POLLY PLAYED FOR 
 DANCING 
 
 When Polly played for dancing, 
 
 Her slender fingers flew 
 Across the flashing ivory keys 
 
 As if they winked at you. 
 The music bubbled under 
 
 The magic of her hand 
 As if the very notes were mad 
 
 To join the festive band. 
 
 When Polly struck the measure 
 
 Of two-step or of waltz, 
 The oldest there grew young again 
 And laughed at time's assaults ,• 
 While lovely Sweet and Twenty, 
 And happy Sweet Sixteen, 
 - Went floating light as thistle-down 
 The merry staves between. 
 42 
 
When Polly played the lancers 
 
 You should have seen us bow, 
 And weave the figures out and in 5 
 
 Would we were dancing now, 
 With Polly playing bravely, 
 
 And all the old set there. 
 Till whoM believe 'tw^as midnight by 
 
 The clock upon the stair. 
 
 Then Polly played as gayly 
 
 As the youngest heart can feel, 
 And lad and lass we danced amain 
 
 The blithe Virginia reel. 
 If Cupid sped his arrow^s. 
 
 Be sure his aim was true. 
 When Polly played for dancing, and 
 
 The hours fairly flew. 
 
WEDDED HANDS 
 
 The year, sweet wife, is on the wane — 
 
 The happy-hearted year, 
 That brought us only tithes of pain, 
 
 And rounded sheaves of cheer. 
 
 Beside the glowing embers we 
 
 Need envy no one's pelf 5 
 Content am I to partner be 
 
 In firm of " Wife and Self" 
 
 Swift glide away the last low sands. 
 Fast fades the hearth-fire's light ^ 
 
 We face the world with wedded hands — 
 Good-night, old year, good-night ! 
 
THE AMBULANCE 
 
 I NEVER see in our bustling town, 
 
 Where the midsummer sun pours fiercely 
 
 down, 
 The swift onrush of the ambulance 
 But I think of the blessed countenance 
 Of One who walked by lane and field, 
 And with voice and look the suffering 
 
 healed. 
 
 Still, where the city's woes are thick, 
 The dear Christ-spirit heals the sick. 
 And yet he lives in the hearts of men, 
 And sends his angels with speed again 
 Wherever the weary plod and fall. 
 His care and tenderness over all. 
 
 And the angels carry lint and lance, 
 And drive in the city's ambulance ,• 
 Are bluff of speech and deft of hand, 
 And quick with accents of command ; 
 And the wind of their coming clears the way 
 For a breath of heaven in the darkest day. 
 45 
 
 I 
 I 
 
THE HOME-BOUND SHIP 
 
 Far out on the stormy ocean 
 
 There's a ship that is faring home, 
 Cleaving the great green breakers, 
 
 Parting the curd white foam ^ 
 Passing the mighty icebergs, 
 
 Crossing the surging sea, 
 The ship that is bringing my dear ones 
 
 Safely back to me. 
 
 Many a ship is sailing 
 
 Forth on the ocean vast ; 
 Laden with gold and spices, 
 
 Gallant from deck to mast; 
 But only one ship I dream of. 
 
 For only one ship I pray. 
 The ship that over the ocean 
 
 Is making her home-bound way. 
 
 'Tis just as were mine the single 
 
 Home out of all the world. 
 Just as were mine the only 
 
 Flag to the winds unRirled, 
 As over the great green billows, 
 
 Parting the curd white foam, 
 I think of the ship that is hasting, 
 
 Bringing my loved ones home. 
 
 46 
 
A COQUETTE 
 
 I AM never in doubt of her goodness, 
 
 I am always afraid of her mood, 
 I am never quite sure of her temper, 
 
 For wilfulness runs in her blood. 
 She is sweet with the sweetness of spring- 
 time — 
 
 A tear and a smile in an hour — 
 Yet I ask not release from her slightest 
 caprice, 
 
 My love with the face of a flower. 
 
 My love with the grace of the lily 
 
 That sways on its slender fair stem, 
 My love with the bloom of the rosebud, 
 
 White pearls in my life's diadem ! 
 You may call her coquette if it please you, 
 
 Enchanting, if shy or if bold, 
 Is my darling, my winsome wee lassie, 
 
 Whose birthdays are three, when all told. 
 
CAMP ECHOES 
 
 " Rally round the flag, boys ! Give it to 
 the breeze !" 
 Bless the dear old fiddle that wakes the 
 gallant air. 
 Once we thundered it in chorus like the 
 booming of the seas, 
 Wives and sweethearts joining in, with an 
 " Amen " to the prayer. 
 
 We're a lot of grizzled fellows, not so much 
 to look at now ! 
 Young and fiill of vigor when the war 
 began. 
 Some behind the counter, and some behind 
 the plough. 
 But we rallied for the country, enlisted to 
 a man. 
 
 48 
 
Counting not the cost, boys ! Never sordid 
 aims 
 Dimmed our record, hasting to the conflict's 
 brunt j 
 Each to serve the nation, we answered to 
 our names, 
 And the flag before us, we hurried to the 
 front. 
 
 Can't you see it waving, the banner of our 
 love, 
 Where the Shenandoah loops and twists 
 like mad? 
 Can't you hear the shouting, the dying 
 groans above, 
 When we'd w^on a battle, and — lost the best 
 we had ? 
 
 Blessings on the music of " Tramp, tramp, 
 tramp !" 
 How it rang its challenge down the serried 
 lines. 
 Cheered us when, like hounds a - leash, we 
 strained through days in camp. 
 Or crashed, with Sherman's storm-cloud, 
 through Georgia's solemn pines. 
 4 49 
 
Here, like useless hulks, boys, we doze the 
 days away — 
 Doze and dream and spin our yarns ; but 
 when we come to die, 
 Lights out, some true hand for us let " taps '* 
 the last time play, 
 Then wrap the flag about us in the bed 
 where last we lie. 
 
 THE REASON 
 
 Something has changed him j yesterday 
 He passed me frowning, scarcely bowed. 
 
 And almost looked the other way, 
 A careless stranger in the crowd. 
 
 But now? What grasp of cordial hand! 
 
 What cheery laugh, what genial tone ! 
 \Mid eddying throngs we pause and stand 
 
 As if Broadway were ours alone. 
 
 Dear fellow ! One word tells the tale j 
 'Tis not the world of yesterday 5 
 
 His heart gives every comrade hail ,• 
 His wife is coming home to-day ! 
 50 
 
THREE BASKETS 
 
 Bertha's basket : Maiden Bertha, with the 
 
 merry dancing eyes, 
 And the brow whereon a shadow would be 
 
 such a rare surprise — 
 What has she within this dainty shell of 
 
 rushes silken-lined, 
 Where so many maiden musings innocently 
 
 are enshrined ? 
 
 Gayly mingling ends of worsted j beads that 
 
 glitter silver-bright j 
 Fleece of Shetland, light and airy, lying there 
 
 in waves of white 5 
 Broidered linen, wrought for pastime in the 
 
 dreamy summer hours 5 
 And perhaps a poet's idyl, read amid the 
 
 leaves and flowers. 
 
 Bertha's basket : Mother Bertha. Ah, serener 
 
 light hath grown 
 In the thoughtful eyes 5 the forehead hath 
 
 some flitting sorrows known. 
 51 
 
In the larger basket looking, other handiwork 
 
 we find, 
 Where the woman's heart its pleasure, love, 
 
 and longing hath enshrined. 
 
 Little aprons 5 little dresses ^ little trousers 
 
 at the knee 
 Patched with tender art, that no one shall 
 
 the mother's piecing see ; 
 Flannel, worked with skill and patience ; and 
 
 an overflowing store. 
 Every size, of little stockings, always needing 
 
 one stitch more. 
 
 Bertha's basket : Grandma Bertha j for the 
 
 years have run their way, 
 And it seems in looking backward it was 
 
 only yesterday 
 That the maiden tripped so lightly, that the 
 
 matron had her cares — 
 Age slips on so gently, gently, like an angel 
 
 unawares. 
 
 Grandma's work is contemplative. With the 
 
 scintillance of steel 
 Gleam the needles, smooth with flashing off* 
 
 the toe or round the heel, 
 5^ 
 
MAIDEN BERTHA 
 
Leisure days have found the lady 5 but her 
 
 face is deeply lined, 
 And her heart is as a temple, where are 
 
 hallowed memories shrined. 
 
 As along the dusty high-road rise the mile- 
 stones one by one, 
 
 Telling here and there the distance, until 
 all the way is done. 
 
 So a woman's basket marks her journey o'er 
 the path of life, 
 
 Folding dearest work for others, whether she 
 be maid or wife. 
 
 CONVALESCENT 
 
 The fever went at the turn of the night. 
 She lies like a lily white and still, 
 
 But her eyes are full of the old love-light ; 
 She'll live, if it be God's will. 
 
 God's will had it been to snatch her away, 
 We had bowed, we had knelt, we had 
 kissed the rod. 
 But His own dear will bids our darling stay, 
 And we, we just thank God. 
 53 
 
HER LETTER 
 
 She has written her little letter ; 
 
 It was hard enough to do, 
 With mistress forever ringing the bell 
 
 Always for something new. 
 When the spelling was very uncertain, 
 
 And the v^iting's blotted and slow\ 
 But she's written her little letter 
 
 Over the sea to go. 
 
 It will carry her last month's wages — 
 
 A couple of pounds at least. 
 It means for the dear home people 
 
 No end of a happy feast. 
 A little shawl for her mother, 
 
 And shoes for the baby's feet, 
 For the pale-faced ailing sister 
 
 Some delicate things to eat. 
 
 She follows her little letter 
 
 Over the plunging sea. 
 She sits again by the smoking peat, 
 
 And leans on her father's knee. 
 54 
 
There are gossiping neighbors calling, 
 
 No end of kith and kin, 
 And they laugh and chat and linger 
 
 As their endless tales they spin. 
 
 And it isn't work forever, 
 
 With bells that make one start 5 
 And it isn't only the wages — 
 
 It's something tugs at the heart 
 And sets her laughing and crying 
 
 As she follows across the sea 
 What she wrote at her kitchen-table 
 
 When she had a half-hour free. 
 
BON VOYAGE! 
 
 To Eastern lands, far-famed in song and 
 story, 
 
 These latest pilgrims turn as to a shrine. 
 Their faces yearning for the ancient glory 
 
 And fain to catch anew the gleam divine. 
 
 In thought their eyes have caught the heav- 
 enly vision. 
 As his of old who saw the golden stair 
 Which made his pillowing stone a place 
 Elysian, 
 While to and fro God's angels journeyed 
 there. 
 
 Ere many days this world of axe and hammer. 
 Of ploughshares cleaving deep a virgin soil. 
 
 Will vanish, with its loud, insistent clamor ; 
 And they, with joy of him who findeth 
 spoil. 
 
 Will, each in full and overrunning measure, 
 
 Receive the blessing of the early dawn. 
 Discern the meanings, reap the sheaves of 
 pleasure 
 The old life keeps, from our swift heart- 
 beats gone. 
 
 56 
 
Our share who stay at home will be to capt- 
 ure 
 A reflex gladness, following day by day 
 Their happy progress, fancying the rapture 
 Of dreams come true, along the hallowed 
 way. 
 
 For they, by mount and vale and village 
 lowdy, 
 
 By Jordan's river and Gennesaret's wave, 
 Will trace the blessed footprints of the Holy, 
 
 And live on earth with Him who came to 
 
 Theirs be the portion of the twelve who 
 clustered 
 Around the Master, wheresoever He went 5 
 Theirs the sweet knowledge of His presence, 
 lustred 
 By heaven's own light and fulness of con- 
 tent. 
 
 Dear friends, our hearts, your company still 
 keeping. 
 Will overflow in loving prayers for you ! 
 God give you ease and safety, waking, sleep- 
 ing, 
 And bring you home — the pilgrim journey 
 through. 
 
 57 
 
SNOWDROP AND CROCUS 
 
 Long were the wintry days and cold, 
 No bloom could pierce the frozen mould, 
 Chill blew the gale o'er mount and wold. 
 
 But who remembers frost and snow, 
 When sweet to-day the south winds blow. 
 And birds are flying to and fro? 
 
 We hear the robin's flute-note clear ,• 
 
 It is the love-tide of the year ; 
 
 Soft shadows play on field and mere. 
 
 A vestal in her garments white, 
 The snowdrop gleams in purest light, 
 The crocus smiles in jewels dight. 
 
 Dear April, leading on to May, 
 Sweet Spring, upon her royal way ! 
 No wonder earth is glad to-day. 
 
VIOLETS 
 
 A FRIEND brought sweetest violets, 
 And laid them in my lap to-day, 
 
 And straight the Winter afternoon 
 Put on the brightness of the May. 
 
 The silent flowers, with subtle breath, 
 Beguiled away my thoughts of pain ,• 
 
 " O heart," their voiceless odor said, 
 "Put on thy robes of light again!" 
 
 " For Winter wanes, and Spring returns — 
 Dear Spring, when all things lovely shinej 
 And hidden ways and cloistered cells 
 Grow radiant as with bloom divine. 
 
 "That path cannot be wholly dark 
 
 Which God hath sown with violets : 
 Lo ! on the earth, as in the sky, 
 For thee His morning star he sets." 
 
A CLUSTER OF ROSES TO A FRIEND 
 
 Roses, beautiful roses, 
 
 Holding the Summer's light, 
 Each in its graceful carven cup, 
 
 Crimson and yellow and white, 
 Breathing the sweetest odors. 
 
 Wearing the richest hues, 
 Distilled from the clouds of heaven, 
 
 And the heaven-ascending dews. 
 
 Roses, wonderful roses. 
 
 Their texture royally fine. 
 Each in its rare completeness 
 
 Wrought by a Hand divine. 
 The bud with the moss around it, 
 
 The stem with the steadfast brier. 
 What could so comfort the fainting heart. 
 
 So answer its mute desire? 
 60 
 
The roses brought me a blessing, 
 
 For they came in a weary hour, 
 And sweet were the thoughts they whispered 
 
 Of one, herself a flower. 
 Ever may bloom about her 
 
 The starriest flowers of the morn. 
 And still may all her roses 
 
 Be free from the piercing thorn. 
 
 But if the thorns must wound her. 
 
 Since oft, in this life of ours, 
 The sharpest suflfering reaches 
 
 Those who have noblest dowers. 
 May she rest with trust unchanging 
 
 On the strength of the Friend above, 
 And so shall roses and thorns alike 
 
 Be the gifts of His matchless love. 
 
THE BLOOM OF THE CACTUS 
 
 Rare splendor of scarlet in royalest fashion 
 My rich flower wears, as it thrills to the 
 shine 
 Of the proud sun, who loves such a chalice 
 to flash on, 
 And pours in its deep heart his nectar 
 divine. 
 
 Superbly it greets me, this joyless ascetic, 
 So lately whose spiked leaves I fancied to 
 wear 
 Through slow-waning seasons, a meaning 
 pathetic. 
 Upheld like the hands of a martyr in 
 prayer. 
 
 Lo ! now, for the cross of its standing in 
 duty 
 So patient, while near it gay neighbors 
 were bright, 
 It is suddenly crowned with superlative 
 beauty, 
 Transfigured and wondrous in shimmering 
 light. 
 
 62 
 
In shape rare and perfect, in texture like satin, 
 In tint like the ruby reflecting the sun, 
 
 The flowers around it grow pale and look 
 flat in 
 The arrogant shadow of this haughty one. 
 
 It is as though, lost, all alone and unmated, 
 A beggar maid stood in the court of a 
 king, 
 Unknown 'mid the throngs who there 
 clamorous waited, 
 Till he saw her, and wooed her with robe 
 and with ring. 
 
 And throwing the grace of his mantle above 
 her, 
 Cried out to the world, " See ! this jewel 
 is mine, 
 I need her, I yearn for her, crown her and 
 love her," 
 So blooms my rich flower in the sun's 
 golden shine. 
 
INFELIX 
 
 Who, gazing on thy cradle sleep 
 
 In far sweet days let down from heaven 
 (Such days there be to mothers given), 
 
 Had thought of shadows gathering deep. 
 
 Or caught upon the baby brow- 
 One faintest sign of furrowing scar, 
 One presage of the lurid star 
 
 That overarcs thy pathway now. 
 
 Not love itself had power to rend 
 The future's kind opaque away, 
 Not love itself had power to stay 
 
 A single dart that fate should send. 
 
 Perchance thine angel watching knew. 
 And veiled his face, and hushed his song 
 One moment in the radiant throng, 
 
 Ah, God ! what could an angel do, 
 
 64 
 
Seeing in sinister outline 
 
 The portent of that baleful dross 
 That sum of grief and shame and loss, 
 
 Which only angels could divine ? 
 
 Yet, even as infelix I write, 
 
 A mighty wave blots out the word, 
 No human cry but God hath heard ! 
 
 No dark but melts in heaven's light! 
 
 And in great ages yet to be, 
 The sorrowful tale forever told, 
 Thy God Himself His lost shall fold, 
 
 And thine own mother comfort thee. 
 
DAY BY DAY 
 
 With staff and shoon I journey, 
 
 Up hill the way I take, 
 Past many a tangled thicket 
 
 Overgrown with brier and brake ; 
 And oft my feet are weary, 
 
 And oft my steps are slow, 
 By day by day Fm nearer 
 
 The land to which I go. 
 
 The foes who hate my Master 
 
 Have spread the path with snares, 
 In hope to stay my progress 
 
 And catch me unawares. 
 But ever to my spirit 
 
 New light and strength are given. 
 For never hosts of evil 
 
 Shall bar the road to heaven. 
 6G 
 
Far worse than all temptations 
 
 That lure me from without 
 Are grewsome clouds and terrors 
 
 That compass me about. 
 Dear Lord, Thine eye can measure 
 
 The strife of fears within, 
 And Thou canst guide me safely, 
 
 Unscathed by shame or sin. 
 
 With staff and shoon I journey, 
 
 And still before mine eyes 
 The Lord w^ho goes before me 
 
 Holds up a radiant prize. 
 And though I faint and falter 
 
 I yet shall overcome. 
 And win with saints and angels 
 
 The endless rest at home. 
 
 And sweet it is when tired 
 
 Because the way is long, 
 To pause beside a mile - stone 
 
 And lift a pilgrim's song. 
 For who* shall lose his courage 
 
 However steep the way. 
 Who, wdth the Lord to help him, 
 
 Fares onward day by day ? 
 
THE OLD SCHOOL -HOUSE 
 
 Set on a rounding hill-top 
 
 And weather-stained and gray, 
 The little mountain school-house 
 
 Looks down on the lonesome way. 
 No other dwelling is near it, 
 
 'Tis perched up there by itself, 
 Like an old forgotten chapel 
 
 High on a rocky shelf. 
 
 In at the cobwebbed windows 
 
 I peered, and seemed to see 
 The face of a sweet girl teacher 
 
 Smiling back at me. 
 There was her desk in the middle. 
 
 With benches grouped anear. 
 Which fancy peopled with children — 
 
 Grown up this many a year. 
 
 Rosy and sturdy children 
 
 Trudging there, rain or shine. 
 
 Eager to be in their places 
 On the very stroke of nine. 
 68 
 
Their dinners packed in baskets — 
 
 Turnover, pie, and cake, 
 The homely toothsome dainties 
 
 Old-fashioned mothers could make. 
 
 Where did the little ones come from ? 
 
 Fields green with aftermath 
 Sleep in the autumn sunshine, 
 
 And a narrow tangled path. 
 Creeping through brier and brushwood, 
 
 Leads down the familiar way j 
 But where did the children come from 
 
 To this school of yesterday ? 
 
 Oh, brown and freckled laddie 
 
 And lass of the apple cheek, 
 The homes that sent you hither 
 
 Are few and far to seek. 
 But you climbed these steeps like squirrels 
 
 That leap from bough to bough, 
 Nor cared for cloud or tempest, 
 
 Nor minded the deep soft snow. 
 
 Blithe of heart and of footstep 
 
 You merrily took the road, 
 Life yet had brought no shadows, 
 
 Care yet had heaped no load. 
 
 69 
 
And safe beneath lowly roof-trees 
 You said your prayers at night, 
 
 And glad as the birds in the orchard 
 Rose up with the morning light. 
 
 Gone is the fair young teacher ; 
 
 The scholars come no more 
 With shout and song to greet her, 
 
 As once, at the swinging door. 
 There are gray-haired men and women 
 
 Who belonged to that childish band. 
 With troops of their own around them 
 
 In this sunny mountain land. 
 
 The old school stands deserted 
 
 Alone on the hill by itself, 
 Much like an outworn chapel 
 
 That clings to a rocky shelf 
 And the sentinel pines around it 
 
 In solemn beauty keep 
 Their watch, from the flush of the dawning 
 
 Till the grand hills fall asleep. 
 
THE MOTHER'S CHAIR 
 
 The century's day had just begun 
 
 When the bride, as shy as a small gray 
 mouse, 
 Came home one eve at the set of sun, 
 
 To reign a queen in a wee bit house ,• 
 A wee bit house, but love was there. 
 And its throne was the bride's small rocking- 
 chair. 
 
 Time fared along, and the rocking-chair 
 Kept pace with the rise and fall of a tune 
 
 That the little mother carolled there. 
 Slowly and sweetly, rune and croon, 
 
 Mother and baby and rockaby. 
 
 As the busy and beautiful years flew by. 
 
 And the wee bit house was a crowded nest 
 That was left one day for a statelier home. 
 But the small chair stood in its place with 
 the best. 
 Throne for the mother, whoe'er might 
 come. 
 Babies and babies were cradled there 
 In her tender arms in that rocking-chair. 
 71 
 
The years sped on like the waves in a race, 
 And small grandchildren fluttered in j 
 
 The dear old hearth was the rallying-place 
 For a bevy of youthful kith and kin. 
 
 Always the centre, standing there 
 
 Was the dear little mother's rocking-chair. 
 
 Like sifted snowflakes the days trooped on, 
 Till the mother heard the angels call j 
 
 One sunrise broke with the mother gone — 
 Only to heaven — that was all. 
 
 But, oh, it was lonely lingering where 
 
 We knelt to her in her little chair. 
 
 And one of the youngest of all the line, 
 A gay girl, just out of college, sits 
 
 In that same old chair, and in shade and 
 shine 
 A look of her great-grandmother flits 
 
 Over her face, so sweet and fair, 
 
 As she rests in the prim little rocking-chair. 
 
THE LETTER SHE DID NOT WRITE 
 
 It was never set down in black and white, 
 The loving letter she did not write 5 
 She thought it out as she baked the bread, 
 As she mended the stockings and made the 
 
 bed,- 
 She wove its beautiful sentences through 
 The morning's work that was hers to do 5 
 But it never was written with ink and pen, 
 For the boys came home from school, and 
 
 then 
 She hadn't a chance in black on white 
 To scribble the letter she did not write. 
 
 It never was dropped in the corner box 
 Which the faithful postman's key unlocks j 
 It never was even begun, you see. 
 Though it throbbed with a true heart's con- 
 stancy 5 
 The far-away mother, the friend beloved. 
 The kinsman dear, whom it must have 
 moved, 
 
 73 
 
Were touching her hand with tender clasp, 
 Were holding her heart in insistent grasp, 
 But it never was sent on its blessed flight, 
 The dream of a letter she did not write. 
 
 She gave up trying the thing at last, 
 When the busy day was almost past, 
 Filled with the measure from sun to sun 
 Of the woman's work which is never done 5 
 The duties sacred which yet seem slight. 
 The little wrongs which must be set right. 
 She had found her paper and taken her seat, 
 When the baby wakened j *' Hush, my 
 
 sweet !"" 
 And Freddie brought her a puzzling sum, 
 And Teddy deafened her with his drum ; 
 No wonder it faded quite out of sight. 
 The dear home letter she meant to write. 
 
 But yet, ah, yet were the waves of air 
 Not stirred by her tender, wordless prayer ? 
 And did not her loving heart, full fain. 
 Send out its cry to her own, and pain 
 Of longing bring in a subtle way 
 A pleasure deep in the waning day. 
 When somehow she felt that an answer 
 
 bright 
 Had come to the letter she could not write ? 
 74 
 
THE UNRETURNING 
 
 Earth, knowing not eld, in thy youth all 
 
 divine, 
 Though the ages unceasing are evermore thine, 
 Once more be birth-thrilled, until forth from 
 
 thy womb 
 Throng the myriad forms of the world's 
 
 waking bloom. 
 
 For the sweet of the year, great Earth- 
 mother, is here, 
 
 And, lo ! on the uplands the flowers appear, 
 
 And blithe is the wing, and the song it is 
 glad, 
 
 And our yearning hearts only are heavy and 
 sad. 
 
 Earth, mother undying, thy tender arms keep 
 So safe in thy bosom the dear things asleep. 
 So strong is thy pulse-beat to bid them 
 
 again 
 Know battle and conquest, and hunger and 
 
 pain. 
 
 75 
 
The insistence of growth, the fair crown of 
 the leaf, 
 
 The fruit in its ripeness, the rich bending 
 sheaf — 
 
 Earth, this thou canst do, yet our dearer 
 loves go, 
 
 And return not again from their beds hol- 
 lowed low. 
 
 Our hearts are nigh breaking with bliss and 
 
 with dole 5 
 In the midst of the rapture, how lonely the 
 
 soul ! 
 Comes the bird to the green bough, the bud 
 
 to the tree. 
 But not from the dark come my darlings to 
 
 me. 
 
THANKSGIVING 
 
 What time the latest flower hath bloomed, 
 
 The latest bird hath southward flown ^ 
 When silence weaves o'er garnered sheaves 
 
 Sweet idyls in our northern zone ; 
 When scattered children rest beside 
 
 The hearth, and hold the mother's hand. 
 Then rolls Thanksgiving's ample tide 
 
 Of fervent praise across the land. 
 
 And though the autumn stillness broods 
 
 Where spring was glad with song and stir, 
 Though summer's grace leave little trace 
 
 On fields that smiled at sight of her, 
 Still glows the sunset's altar fire 
 
 With crimson flame and heart of gold, 
 And faith uplifts, with strong desire 
 
 And deep content, the hymns of old. 
 
 We bless our God for wondrous wealth. 
 Through all the bright benignant year ^ 
 
 For shower and rain, for ripened grain 3 
 For gift and guerdon, far and near. 
 
 11 
 
We bless the ceaseless Providence 
 
 That watched us through the peaceful 
 days, 
 
 That led us home, or brought us thence, 
 And kept us in our various ways. 
 
 And if the hand so much that gave 
 
 Hath something taken from our store, 
 If caught from sight, to heaven's pure light, 
 
 Some precious ones are here no more. 
 We still adore the Friend above. 
 
 Who, while earth's road grows steep and 
 dim. 
 Yet comforts us, in tender love, 
 
 And holds our darlings close to Him. 
 
 Thanks, then, O God ! From sea to sea 
 
 Let every wind the anthem bear ! 
 And hearts be rife through toil and strife, 
 
 With joyful praise and grateful prayer. 
 Our fathers' God, their children sing 
 
 The grace they sought through storm and 
 sun J 
 Our harvest tribute here we bring, 
 
 And end it with, " Thy will be done." 
 
©art mrir 
 
 MILE -STONES 
 
CHRISTMAS 
 
 We love to think of Bethlehem, 
 
 That little mountain town 
 To which on earth's first Christmas Day 
 
 Our blessed Lord came down j 
 A lowly manger for His bed, 
 
 The cattle near in stall. 
 There, cradled close in Mary's arms, 
 
 He slept, the Lord of all. 
 
 If we had been in Bethlehem, 
 
 We too had hasted fain 
 To see the Babe whose little face 
 
 Knew neither care nor pain. 
 Like any little child of ours 
 
 He came unto His own, 
 Though Cross and shame before him stretched 
 
 His pathway to His throne. 
 6 8i 
 
If we had dwelt in Bethlehem, 
 
 We would have followed fast, 
 And where the Star had led our feet 
 
 Have knelt ere dawn was past. 
 Our gifts, our songs, our prayers had been 
 
 An offering, as He lay, 
 The Blessed Babe of Bethlehem, 
 
 In Mary's arms that day. 
 
 Now breaks the latest Christmas Morn! 
 
 Again the angels sing. 
 And far and near the children throng 
 
 Their happy hymns to bring. 
 All heaven is stirred ! All earth is glad ! 
 
 For down the shining way 
 The Lord who came to Bethlehem 
 
 Comes yet on Christmas Day. 
 
AUTUMN PLOUGHING 
 
 More than the beauty of summer 
 
 Is shed on the hills to-day, 
 And the fragrant breath of the vintage 
 
 Is borne on the winds away, 
 As, father and son together, 
 
 The farmers are guiding the plough j 
 Deep and straight is the furrow 
 
 They set in the green earth now. 
 
 "Plough deep,'' is the old man's counsel, 
 
 As they turn the fallow field 
 That yet shall laugh with the harvest, 
 
 And wave wqth a golden yield. 
 "Plough deep and straight," and the sturdy 
 
 Answer rings back wdth a will, 
 As the tilth is ready for sowing 
 
 On the sun-swept reach of hill. 
 
 I watch, and over my spirit 
 
 There wafts an echoed psalm, 
 Sweet as a thought of our Father, 
 
 And full of heaven's balm. 
 
God knows how deep the furrow 
 
 Needed by soul of mine, 
 Ere the stony soul shall quicken 
 
 And bloom with fruits divine. 
 
 And God who cares for the vintage 
 
 When the sap is in the stem, 
 And God who crowns the summer 
 
 With the autumn's diadem, 
 And God who all the winter 
 
 Beholds the world's bread grow. 
 May be trusted for loving kindness 
 
 Though his ploughshare lay me low. 
 
THE CHRISTMAS ANGELS 
 
 Again, as of old, the shadows fold, and the 
 
 midnight sky is clear and cold j 
 Again, as when the shepherds watched, the 
 
 peasants sleep with their doors unlatched ; 
 Serene and still over vale and hill, over palace 
 
 gateway and cottage sill, 
 In snow-white fleece lies the wintry peace, 
 
 and the angels hasten to do God's will. 
 
 Ever they keep above our sleep a vigil tender 
 
 and sweet and deep, 
 But they waken us now, fi-om the skies aglow, 
 
 and the sound of their wings goes to 
 
 and fro. 
 Hark to the song of that seraph throng, 
 
 who nearest of all to the throne belong. 
 Hither they come to heart and home, with 
 
 hail to the right that shall smite the 
 
 wrong. 
 
 85 
 
Glory to God ! They send abroad harpings 
 of heaven on earthly road, 
 
 Lifting the Name on their quivering flame, 
 as peace and good-will their notes pro- 
 claim. 
 
 Sending afar without a jar, wherever our 
 Father's children are. 
 
 The word of grace from the Father's face, 
 thrilling in music from star to star. 
 
 Sing to us, angels of Christmas, sing, while 
 
 sweet in the day dawn our glad bells 
 
 ring! 
 Sing of the Love that comes from above, 
 
 brooding and soft as the breast of the 
 
 dove. 
 While we swift forget the pain and fret, and 
 
 the pitiful things to which life is set. 
 And leave at the manger all thought of 
 
 danger, and worship the Child, God's 
 
 children yet. 
 
HOLLY AND PINE 
 
 When Christmas comes with mirth and 
 
 cheer 
 To clasp the circlet of the year, 
 Then forth we go for holly and pine, 
 Our wreaths of evergreen to twine ,• 
 Then swift we trip across the snow, 
 To find the gleaming mistletoe, 
 And straight and tall and branching free, 
 We haste to choose the Christmas-tree. 
 
 When Christmas comes, for Mother and 
 
 Kate, 
 All sorts of sweet surprises waitj 
 And little fingers thrill with joy 
 As pretty gifts their skill employ. 
 When Christmas comes each tries her best 
 To make it beautiflil for the rest. 
 And no one thinks of selfish ease. 
 But seeks his neighbor to serve and please. 
 
 87 
 
When Christmas comes, there is none so poor 
 He will turn the beggar from his door 5 
 When Christmas comes the rich and great 
 Search out their brothers of low estate, 
 And the sleigh-bells ring, the church-bells 
 
 chime, 
 The children sing in the merry time, 
 And smiles and greetings leap to lips, 
 That long were set in grief's eclipse, 
 For angels of comfort come and go, 
 Within the Yule-Log's radiant glow. 
 
 When Christmas comes, I think again, 
 Heaven stoops to wish good- will to men, 
 And God, who loves this earth of ours, 
 With love once more the whole earth 
 
 dowers j 
 And the Babe who slept on Mary's knee. 
 Once more brings peace to you and me j 
 And storms may beat, and the winds be 
 
 wild, 
 But the lowly mother, the Holy Child, 
 As in the manger, charm us yet. 
 All strife and evil our souls forget, 
 And each believing worshipper 
 Brings gold and frankincense and myrrh. 
 And the tongues of hate are hushed and 
 
 dumb. 
 When again the Christmas angels come. 
 
MISS LUCINDA'S OPINION 
 
 But why do I keep Thanksgiving? — 
 
 Did I hear you aright, my dear? 
 Why ? When Fm all alone in life. 
 
 Not a chick nor a child to be near j 
 John's folks all away in the West, 
 
 Lucy across the sea. 
 And not a soul in the dear old home 
 
 Save a little bound girl and me? 
 
 It does look lonesome, I grant it ^ 
 
 Yet strange as the thing may sound, 
 I'm seldom in want of company 
 
 The whole of the merry year round — 
 There's spring when the lilac blossoms, 
 
 And the apple-trees laugh in bloom. 
 There's summer when great moths flit and 
 glance 
 
 Through the twilight's star-lit gloom. 
 
 89 
 
Then comes the beautiful autumn, 
 
 When every fragrant brier, 
 Flinging its garlands on fence and wall, 
 
 Is bright as living fire 5 
 And then the white, still winter time, 
 
 When the snow lies warm on the wheat, 
 And I think of the days that have passed 
 away. 
 
 When my life was so young and sweet 
 
 Fm a very happy woman 
 
 To-day, though my hair is white. 
 For some of my troubles IVe overlived. 
 
 And some I keep out of sight. 
 Fm a busy old woman, you see, dear. 
 
 As I travel along life's road, 
 Fm always trying as best I can 
 
 To lighten my neighbor's load. 
 
 That child? You should think she'd try 
 me ? 
 Does she earn her bread and salt ? 
 YouVe noticed she's sometimes indolent, 
 
 And indolence is a fault,- 
 Of course it is, but the orphan girl 
 
 Is growing as fast as she can. 
 And to make her work from dawn till 
 dark 
 Was never a part of my plan. 
 90 
 
I like to see the dimples 
 
 Flash out on the little face, 
 That was wan enough, and still enough, 
 
 When first she came to the place. 
 I think she'll do, when she's older ,♦ 
 
 A kitten is not a cat. 
 And now that I look at the thing, my 
 dear, 
 
 I hope she'll never be that. 
 
 I'm thankful that life is peaceful 5 
 
 I should just be sick of strife. 
 If, for instance, I had to live along 
 
 Like poor Job Slocum's wife 5 
 I'm thankful I didn't say "yes," my dear, 
 
 thankful as I can be. 
 When Job, with a sprig in his button-hole, 
 
 Once came a-courting me. 
 
 I'm thankful I'm neither poor nor rich, 
 
 Glad that I'm not in debt • 
 That I owe no money I cannot pay. 
 
 And so have no call to fret. 
 I'm thankful so many love me. 
 
 And that I've so many to love, 
 Though my dearest and nearest have gone 
 before 
 
 In the beautiful home above. 
 91 
 
 ( 
 
 1 
 
ril always keep Thanksgiving 
 
 In the good, old-fashioned way, 
 And think of the reasons for gratitude 
 
 In December, and June, and May, 
 In August, November, and April, 
 
 And the months that come between ; 
 For God is good, and my heart is light, 
 
 And rd not change place with a queen. 
 
 OF ALL DEAR DAYS 
 
 Of all dear days is Christmas day 
 
 The dearest and the best ; 
 Still in its dawn the angels sing 
 
 Their song of peace and rest. 
 And yet the blessed Christ-Child comes 
 
 And w^alks the shining way, 
 Which brings to simple earthly homes 
 
 Heaven's light on Christmas day. 
 
 Then, deep in silent w^oods, the trees — 
 The hemlock, pine, and fir — 
 
 Thrill to the chilly winter breeze. 
 And waft a breath of myrrh j 
 92 
 
And far and near Kriss Kringle's bells 
 
 Their airy music shake, 
 And dancing feet of boys and girls 
 
 A sweeter joyance make. 
 
 The Christ-Child came to Bethlehem, 
 
 To Mary's happy breast, 
 And found within her brooding arms 
 
 A warm encircling nest. 
 And many a tiny cherub child 
 
 In mother's arms to-day 
 Smiles like the Christ, the undefiled, 
 
 On this dear Christmas day. 
 
 The Christ-Child's mother dimly saw 
 
 The cross in faint outline 
 Above the baby face that held 
 
 Her own in awe divine. 
 Thus over little cradle-beds 
 
 The sacred passion-flower 
 Its purple sign of sorrow spreads 
 
 In love's ecstatic hour. 
 
 To Mary's feet the Wise Men brought 
 Their gifts of gold and spice 5 
 
 The "Gloria" swept the midnight skies 
 To greet her Pearl of Price. 
 93 
 
 I 
 
 ( 
 
And down the ladder of the stars, 
 
 Across the shining way, 
 The angels watched the Christ-Child come 
 
 That first dear Christmas day. 
 
 Of all dear days is Christmas day 
 
 The very dearest dear. 
 The crown and clasp and topmost sheaf 
 
 Of all the joyful year. 
 Then dancing feet of boys and girls 
 
 Go gayly to and fro, 
 And " Merry, merry Christmas '' rings 
 
 In all the winds that blow. 
 
IN BETHLEHEM 
 
 Come back to-day to Bethlehem, 
 
 The year is on the wane, 
 A truce to strife that wearies life, 
 
 A truce to grief and pain. 
 Oh, heart return to Bethlehem 
 
 And hear its song again! 
 
 If siren voices luring thee 
 
 Have turned thy thoughts aside. 
 
 If thou hast quaffed the bitter draught 
 Of envy or of pride, 
 
 If thou in agony of shame 
 Hast thy dear Lord denied, 
 
 Come back to-day to Bethlehem, 
 All in the quickening dawn, 
 
 With wistful eyes regard the skies 
 Ere yet the gloom is gone. 
 
 Oh, list the song of Bethlehem 
 Forever pealing on ! 
 95 
 
Oh, burdened with the weight of sin. 
 
 And worn with many a care, 
 Here drop thy load, the sunrise road 
 
 Is open at thy prayer. 
 Return, return to Bethlehem, 
 
 The angels wait thee there ! 
 
 Come back, come back to Bethlehem ! 
 
 Behold the Virgin's Child 
 By prophets told in ages old, 
 
 The fair, the undefiled! 
 Lo, peace is born in Bethlehem 
 
 To soothe earth's tumults wild. 
 
 Gome back to-day to Bethlehem ! 
 
 Though thou hast wandered far, 
 No rest shall fill thy yearning breast 
 
 Until thou see the Star. 
 Oh, heart return to Bethlehem 
 
 Where yet the angels are ! 
 
A CHRISTMAS THOUGHT 
 
 The sweetest gift the Father's love 
 
 Sent ever down to men 
 Came in the stillness and the dark 
 
 That thrilled to music when 
 All suddenly the hills grew bright 
 
 And flamed athwart the sky 
 (A rift of heaven across the night) 
 
 The glory from on high. 
 
 Strong angels swept their hearts of fire 
 
 And sang of peace to men j 
 The w^ondering shepherds heard in awe 
 
 And took their pathway then 
 Along the hills by crag and steep 
 
 To find the mother-maid, 
 In whose glad arms that wintry night 
 
 God's gift of gifts w^as laid. 
 
 All heaven was in sw^et Mary's heart, 
 
 The Babe had brought it her. 
 She did not think it strange to see 
 
 The frankincense and myrrh. 
 The shining gold, the sages gave, 
 
 As poured beneath a throne, 
 In honor of the kingly one, 
 
 That hour her very own. 
 7 97 
 
So helpless, yet so beautiful. 
 
 Heaven's gift, the undefiled, 
 Earth's proudest and earth's lowliest 
 
 Bowed down before the Child. 
 And back to heaven the angels went 
 
 Whose songs had cleft the night. 
 And Bethlehem's star was lost amid 
 
 The morning's rapturous light. 
 
 Heaven's royal gift to earth that day. 
 
 Heaven's gift of life and love, 
 Was just a helpless little child 
 
 A mother bent above. 
 Worth more than ransom ever paid, 
 
 In weight of gold or gem, 
 The child who came to ransom us — 
 
 The Babe of Bethlehem. 
 
 And, aye, in many an earthly home 
 
 God's sweetest gift and best 
 Is still a little child who sleeps 
 
 Upon a mother's breast. 
 And over every cradled head 
 
 The angels sing to-day, 
 With something of the sweetness once 
 
 That thrilled the Bethlehem way. 
 
OCTOBER 
 
 We are drinking the wine of the ages 
 From cups that are brimming over 
 
 With the sweet of a honey imbought with 
 money, 
 Distilled from the heart of the clover. 
 
 The fathomless blue of the heaven, 
 The beauty and bloom of the day, 
 
 Are making us young, — they are waking the 
 tongue 
 Of the years that have passed away. 
 
 'Tis the radiant, rare October, 
 
 With the clusters ripe on the vine. 
 
 With scents that mingle in spicy tingle 
 On the hill slope's glimmering line. 
 
 And summer's a step behind us. 
 
 And autumn's a thought before, 
 And each fleet, sweet day that we meet on 
 the w^ay 
 Is an angel at the door. 
 99 
 
A THANKSGIVING FEAST 
 
 We two are the last my daughter ! 
 
 To set the table for two, 
 Where once we had plates for twenty, 
 
 Is a lonesome thing to do. 
 But my boys and guls are scattered 
 
 To the east and the west afar, 
 And one dearer than even the children 
 
 Has passed through the gates ajar. 
 
 Fm wanting my bairns for Thanksgiving. 
 
 I thought last night as I lay 
 Awake in my bed and watching 
 
 For the breaking of the day, 
 How my heart would leap in gladness 
 
 If a letter should come this morn 
 To say that they could not leave us here 
 
 To keep the feast forlorn ! 
 
 Samuel, my son in Dakota, 
 
 Is a rich man, as I hear, 
 And he'll never let want approach us. 
 
 Save the wanting of him near 5 
 
While Jack is in San Francisco, 
 
 And Edward over the sea, 
 And only my Httle Jessie 
 
 Is biding at home with me. 
 
 And I feel like poor Naomi 
 
 When back to her own she went, 
 And they said, " Is this Naomi ?" 
 
 She well knew what they meant. 
 IVe stayed, and the lads have wandered, 
 
 And the time that was swift to go 
 When I was brisk and busy 
 
 Is laggard and dull and slow. 
 
 O ! the happy time for a mother 
 
 Is w^hen her bairns are small, 
 And into the nursery -beds at night 
 
 She tucks her darlings all 5 
 When the wee ones are about her, 
 
 With gleeful noise and cry. 
 And she hushes the tumult with a smile, 
 
 Her brood beneath her eye. 
 
 But a mother must bear her burden 
 
 When her babes are bearded men, 
 On 'change and in the army. 
 
 Or scratching away with a pen 
 In some banker's dusty office. 
 
 As Martin is, no doubt — 
 A mother must bear her burden. 
 
 And learn to do without. 
 
I know the Scripture teaching, 
 
 To keep the halt and blind, 
 And the homesick and the desolate, 
 
 At the festal hour in mind. 
 Of the fat and the sweet a portion 
 
 I'll send to the poor man's door 5 
 But I'm wearying for my children 
 
 To sit at my board once more. 
 
 I tell you, Jessie, my darling. 
 
 This living for money and pelf — 
 It takes the heart from life, dear, 
 
 It robs a man of himself. 
 This old bleak hill-side hamlet. 
 
 That sends its boys away. 
 Has a right to claim them back, dear. 
 
 On the fair Thanksgiving day. 
 
 Shame on my foolish fretting ! 
 
 Here are letters, a perfect sheaf j 
 Open them quickly, dearest ! 
 
 Ah me, 'tis beyond belief! 
 By ship and train they're hasting, 
 
 Rushing along on the way. 
 Tell the neighbors all my children 
 
 Will be here Thanksgiving day. 
 
GARDENS 
 
 The wide, fair gardens, the rich, lush gardens, 
 Which no man planted, and no man tills • 
 Their strong seeds drifted, their brave bloom 
 lifted, 
 Near and far over vales and hills ^ 
 Sip the bees from their cups of sweetness, 
 
 Poises above them the wild free wing, 
 And night and morn from their doors are 
 borne 
 The dreams of the tunes that blithe hearts 
 sing. 
 
 The waving gardens, the fragrant gardens, 
 
 That toss in the sun by the broad high- 
 way, 
 Growing together, gorse and heather, 
 
 Aster and golden-rod all the day. 
 Poppies dark with the wine of slumber. 
 
 Daisies bright with the look of dawn. 
 The gentian blue, and the long year through 
 
 The flowers that carry the seasons on. 
 103 
 
The dear old gardens, the pleasant gardens 
 
 Where mother used to potter about, 
 Tying and pulling, and sparingly culling, 
 
 And watching each bud as its flower 
 laughed out ; 
 Hollyhocks here, and the prince's feather. 
 
 Larkspur and primrose, and lilies white, 
 Sweet were the dear old-fashioned gardens 
 
 Where we kissed the mother and said 
 " Good-night." 
 
^t£f,^*<;2* 
 
 "The dear old gardens . . . 
 
 Where mother used to potter about '' 
 
AUTUMN DAYS 
 
 Into the cup of our life to-day 
 What sweet, what spice is poured, 
 
 When every step of the common way 
 Is a garden of the Lord, 
 
 With the golden lights and the purple shades 
 Blending in rich accord. 
 
 As soon might we count the star beams 
 Or the sand on the shifting shore. 
 
 As number the flowers that baffle 
 Desire with more and more, 
 
 As if heaven had opened her windows 
 And rained them out of her store 
 
 By swamp and field and meadow, 
 On the edge of the mountain brook. 
 
 By the worn old fence and the hedge-row, 
 In the tiniest hidden nook — 
 
 Flowers in royal splendor 
 
 Wherever you chance to look. 
 105 
 
And the zest of the autumn noontide. 
 The crisp of the autumn night, 
 
 The feeling of rest after labor, 
 The wonderful crystal light, 
 
 It is joy of joys to be living 
 
 With the year at its crowning height. 
 
 Thank God for the beauty broadcast 
 
 Over our own dear landj 
 Thank God, who, to feed His children, 
 
 Opens His bounteous hand ^ 
 Thank God for the lavish harvests, 
 
 Thank Him from strand to strand. 
 
THE LOVING-CUP 
 
 'Tis the time of year for the loving-cup 
 
 To pass from hand to hand, 
 When the sounds of wassail and revelry 
 
 Are echoing o'er the land. 
 For North, where the skater skims the mere, 
 
 And South, where the redbird sings, 
 A pulse of cheer to the waning year 
 
 The merry Christmas brings. 
 
 'Tis the time of the year for the open hand 
 
 And the tender heart and true, 
 When a rift of Heaven has cleft the skies, 
 
 And the saints are looking through. 
 The flame leaps high where the hearth was 
 drear, 
 
 And sorrowful eyes grow bright, 
 For a message dear that all may hear 
 
 Is borne on the Christmas light. 
 107 
 
'Tis the time of year for the cordial word 
 
 And the grace of the Hfted Joad, 
 For brother to come to brother's help 
 
 On the rough and stony road. 
 'Tis the time to bury the ancient grudge, 
 
 And to make the quarrels up ,• 
 No hate has room where the roses bloom 
 
 'Round the Christmas loving-cup. 
 
 'Tis the time of year for children's joy. 
 
 And all in a scarlet row 
 The stockings hang in the ingle nook, 
 
 And the dreaming faces glow. 
 And the children turn and laugh in sleep, 
 
 To-morrow will be so gay j 
 For there never is mirth in this queer old 
 earth, 
 
 Like the mirth of Christmas day. 
 
 'Tis the time of year for the loving-cup, 
 
 When the holly berries shine. 
 And with shout and song of man and maid, 
 
 The cedar and fir we twine. 
 Ah ! pass the cup from the frozen North 
 
 To the South, where the robin sings, 
 For a pulse of cheer to the waning year 
 
 The merry Christmas brings. 
 io8 
 
'Tis the time of year for the sweet surprise, 
 
 For the blessing we did not see, 
 Though straight from the infinite love of 
 God 
 
 'Twas coming to you and me. 
 'Tis the time for seeking once again 
 
 The sheen of the Bethlehem star 5 
 And for kneeling fain, with the age-long 
 train, 
 
 Where the Babe and Mary are. 
 
THE DAYS WHEN NOTHING 
 HAPPENS 
 
 For the days when nothing happens, 
 
 For the cares that leave no trace, 
 For the love of little children, 
 
 For each sunny dwelling-place, 
 For the altars of our fathers. 
 
 And the closets where we pray, 
 Take, O gracious God and Father, 
 
 Praises this Thanksgiving day. 
 
 For our harvests safe ingathered. 
 
 For our golden store of wheat, 
 For the cornlands and the vinelands, 
 
 For the flowers up-springing sweet. 
 For our coasts from want protected. 
 
 For each inlet, river, bay. 
 By Thy bounty full and flowing. 
 
 Take our praise this joyful day. 
 
 For the dangers to the Nation 
 
 Warded hence by sovereign love. 
 For the country, strong and hopeful, 
 Songs arise to God above. 
 
Never people called and chosen 
 Had such loving-kindness shov^^n 
 
 As this people, God-defended ! 
 Therefore, praises to the throne! 
 
 For our dear ones lifted higher 
 
 Through the darkness to the light. 
 Ours to love and ours to cherish 
 
 In dear memory, beyond sight, 
 For our kindred and acquaintance 
 
 In Thy heaven who safely stay. 
 We uplift our psalms of triumph. 
 
 Lord, on this Thanksgiving day. 
 
 For the quiet, uneventful, 
 
 Blessed progress of our lives. 
 For the love of friends and neighbors, 
 
 Parents, children, husbands, wives. 
 For the ever-present knowledge 
 
 That our Saviour is our own, 
 On this day of glad Thanksgiving 
 
 Praises rise to reach the throne. 
 
 For the hours when heaven is nearest 
 
 And the earth-mood does not cling. 
 For the very gloom oft broken 
 
 By our looking for the King, 
 By our thought that He is coming. 
 
 For our courage on the way. 
 Take, O Friend, unseen, eternal. 
 
 Praises this Thanksgiving day. 
 Ill 
 
GOOD -NIGHT 
 
 Good-night, sweet year, that brought to me 
 
 Dear friends to love, rare wealth to hold, 
 That gave me flowers for memory 
 
 More precious far than fleeting gold. 
 Good-night, sweet year, wherein I read 
 
 Full many a page with rare delight , 
 Thy latest hour will soon have fled 
 
 Oh, pleasant year, sweet year, good-night ! 
 
 Good-night, sad year, that reft away 
 
 Some hopes I cherished ,• gave the pain 
 Of disillusion 5 dimmed the day 
 
 With wrecks of labor wrought in vain. 
 Good-night, sad year, that sometime knew 
 
 My pillow wet with bitter tears, 
 Good-night, sad year, that drifteth too 
 
 Far hence on Time's black sea of years. 
 112 
 
Good-night, blithe year, that to the home 
 
 Came smiling with so gay a face. 
 Bade roses bloom in hall and room, 
 
 Sent small feet pattering through the place, 
 That woke such bells of melody 
 
 As touch the eternal chords that ring 
 Where evermore the ransomed be 
 
 And saints for aye behold the King. 
 
 Good-night, brave year, that gave me strength, 
 
 And helped my will to overcome 
 In struggles, where the foe, at length 
 
 Baffled and beaten, left me dumb, 
 Yet thrilling with victorious song! 
 
 Good-night, brave year ! I fain would keep 
 Thy secret still to right the wTong, 
 
 But thou art we3Xj. Rest and sleep. 
 
 Good-night, O year, most sorrowful 
 
 Seen from the earth side, ache and loss 
 And clouded dawns, and dear ones gone, 
 
 Have deeply stamped thee with the cross. 
 Good-night, O sorrov^rful, sweet year. 
 
 Sweet with the promise of the day. 
 Where heaven's own morning shall appear 
 
 And all the shadows flee away. 
 8 
 
THE NEW YEAR 
 
 The clock struck twelve in the tall church 
 tower, 
 And the old year slipped away, 
 To be lost in the crowd of phantom years 
 In the House of Dreams that stay 
 All wrapped in their cloaks of gray. 
 
 Then swift and sweet o'er the door's worn 
 sill 
 Came the youngest child of Time, 
 With a gay little bow and a merry laugh, 
 And a voice like bells achime, 
 Challenging frost and rime. 
 
 He found there was plenty for him to do, 
 
 The strong and the weak were here, 
 And both held out their hands to him 
 And gave him greetings dear, 
 The beautiful young new year. 
 114 
 
"You must bring us better days," they said, 
 
 "The old year was a cheat." 
 Which I think was mean when the year 
 was dead j 
 Such fate do dead years meet, 
 To be spurned by scornful feet! 
 
 " I bring you the best a year can bring," 
 
 The new-comer stoutly spake, 
 " The chance of work, the gift of trust, 
 
 And the bread of love to break, 
 If but my gifts you'll take !" 
 
 The noblest thing a year can lay 
 
 In the lap of you or me. 
 The brave new year has brought this day — 
 
 It is Opportunity, 
 
 Which the wise are swift to see. 
 
AT THE PARTING OF THE WAYS 
 
 "Go forth in thy turn/"' said the Lord of 
 the years to the year we greet to-day — 
 
 "Go forth to succor my people, who are 
 thronging the world's highway. 
 
 " Carry them health and comfort, carry them 
 
 joy and light. 
 The grace of the eager dawning, the ease 
 
 of the restful night. 
 
 "Take them the flying snowflake, and the 
 hope of the hastening spring, 
 
 The green of the leaf unrolling, the gleam 
 of the bluebird's wing. 
 
 " Give them the gladness of children, the 
 
 strength of sinew and nerve. 
 The pluck of the man in battle, who may 
 
 fall, but will never swerve. 
 ii6 
 
" Send them the lilt of the singer, the sword 
 
 that is swift to smite 
 In the headlong rush of the onset, w^hen the 
 
 wrong resists the right. 
 
 " Pour on them peace that crowneth hosts 
 
 which have bravely striven. 
 Over them throw the mantle they wear who 
 
 are God-forgiven. 
 
 " Shrive them of sin and of blunders j oh, 
 
 make my people free ! 
 Let this year among years be thought of as 
 
 a time of jubilee, 
 
 " Throbbing with notes triumphant, waving 
 
 with banners fair, 
 A year of the grace of the Highest, to 
 
 vanquish human despair. 
 
 "For sorrow and sighing send them, O Year, 
 
 the dance of mirth. 
 And banish the moan and the crying from 
 
 the struggling, orphaned earth. 
 
 " Go forth in thy turn, O blithe New Year," 
 said the Lord of the passing days 5 
 
 And the angels in heaven heard Him, and 
 lifted a paean of praise. 
 117 
 
THE THINNING RANKS 
 
 The day grows lonelier j the air 
 
 Is chillier than it used to be. 
 We hear about us everywhere 
 
 The haunting chords of memory. 
 Dear faces once that made our joy 
 
 Have vanished from the sweet home band, 
 Dear tasks that were our loved employ 
 
 Have dropped from out our loosened hand. 
 
 Familiar names in childhood given 
 None call us by, save those in heaven. 
 We cannot talk with later friends 
 Of those old times to which love lends 
 Such mystic haze of soft regret ; 
 We would not, if we could, forget 
 The sweetness of the by-gone hours, 
 So priceless are love's faded flowers 5 
 118 
 
But lonelier grows the waning day, 
 And much we miss upon the way 
 Our comrades who have heard the call 
 That soon or late must summon all. 
 
 Ah, well ! the day grows lonelier here. 
 Thank God, it doth not yet appear 
 What thrill of perfect bliss awaits 
 Those who pass on within the gates. 
 Oh, dear ones who have left my side, 
 And passed beyond the swelling tide, 
 I know that you will meet me when 
 I, too, shall leave these ranks of men 
 And find the glorious company 
 Of saints from sin forever free, 
 Of angels who do always see 
 The face of Christ, and ever stand 
 Serene and strong at God's right hand. 
 
 The day grows lonelier, the air 
 
 Hath waftings strangely keen and cold, 
 But woven in, O glad, O rare. 
 
 What love-notes from the hills of gold ! 
 Dear crowding faces gathered there, 
 
 Dear blessed tasks that wait our hand, 
 What joy, what pleasure shall we share. 
 
 Safe anchored in the one home-land. 
 "9 
 
Close up, O comrades, close the ranks. 
 Press onward, waste no fleeting hour! 
 
 Beyond the outw^orks, lo! the banks 
 
 Of that full tide, where life hath power, 
 
 And Satan lieth underfoot. 
 
 And sin is killed, even at the root. 
 
 Close up, close fast the wavering line. 
 
 Ye who are led by One divine. 
 
 The day grows lonelier apace, 
 
 But heaven shall be our trysting-place. 
 
Ipart mt) 
 
 CLOSET AND ALTAR 
 
JESUS WENT BEFORE 
 
 Their faces to Jerusalem, 
 
 They stepped with laggard feet. 
 Half timorous, defiant half, 
 
 At what they went to meet. 
 But as they rested, or they talked 
 
 Their sad forebodings o'er. 
 Still leading on the little band, 
 
 Their Master went before. 
 
 He saw in vision maddened throngs j 
 
 He saw the crowded hall 
 Where scribe and priest should mock and flout. 
 
 Where cruel scourge should fall j 
 He saw the cross 5 its shadows lay 
 
 The toilsome pathway o'er 5 
 But, pressing on with ardent soul, 
 
 The Master went before. 
 
 To-day Thy pledged disciples, Lord, 
 
 Meet sorrow, pain, and shame, 
 Their watchword in the trial time 
 
 Thine own all-conquering name. 
 Though flesh be weak, and spirit faint. 
 
 And heart be spent and sore, 
 They cannot fail in any strife 
 
 While Thou shalt go before. 
 123 
 
In presence of Thy bitter foes, 
 
 In midst of dark defeat, 
 They yet shall snatch a victory 
 
 And taste a triumph sweety 
 Nor death itself shall crush them. Lord. 
 
 Its final conflict o'er. 
 The ransomed hosts shall shout and sing, 
 
 " Our Master went before !" 
 
 NOT READY 
 
 Out of our pain and struggle, 
 
 Up from our grief and dole, 
 We are swift to cry to the Healer 
 
 For the touch that makes us whole. 
 
 Alas ! we are not so ready. 
 
 In the day of our joy and crown, 
 
 With the palms and the fragrant incense 
 Laid at His altar down. 
 
 And how it must grieve the Master 
 That His own are so slow to praise. 
 
 In the flush of their peace and gladness. 
 
 The goodness which brims the days! 
 
 124 
 
JOINT HEIRS 
 
 There came a precious meaning 
 
 Into the Word to-day — 
 A waft of sweetness from the land 
 
 That is not far away, 
 A thought so pure, so high, so strong. 
 
 That in my lonely lot 
 I kept the measure of a song, 
 
 A song where pain is not. 
 
 Joint heirs with Christ the Blessed, 
 
 The Father's equal Son, 
 So lifted into equal place 
 
 With that beloved One, 
 So given rights of sonship 
 
 Before the Father's face, 
 So made the heir of all things. 
 
 By Heaven's m^ost royal grace. 
 
 Not as the younger children 
 
 Who forth from home may fare. 
 
 But as the iirst-born of the line 
 The birthright I shall share. 
 125 
 
In the presence of the Father, 
 
 Uplifted by the Son, 
 I shall be loved as Christ is loved. 
 
 And dwell anear His throne. 
 
 Dear thought that bids me cherish 
 
 To-day the hidden name 
 Which will be mine when Jesus 
 
 His own shall come to claim 5 
 Dear hope that casts its glory, 
 
 A charm o'er daily care. 
 And gives me joy and freedom 
 
 Oft as I kneel in prayer. 
 
 Joint heir with Christ the Blessed, 
 
 The Christ-life mine to live, 
 And every day some sacrifice 
 
 Of mine own will to give : 
 Some trial to endure for Him, 
 
 Some brother's load to ease, 
 Or in the quiet home routine 
 
 Some little child to please. 
 
 Joint heir with Christ in heaven, 
 
 Joint heir with Christ on earth. 
 Made equal in the Father's sight, 
 
 Divinely dowered in birth. 
 A waft of precious meaning 
 
 Comes floating from that word, 
 A harp note from the ceaseless strain 
 
 By saints and angels heard. 
 126 
 
THE DEAREST ONE 
 
 Oh ! which of all my dearest dear is most 
 
 my very own ? 
 Whom do I pray for oftenest when kneeling 
 
 at the throne r 
 'Tis not the one whose earthly cup is 
 
 brimmed with gift and grace, 
 Nor yet the one w^hose winsome heart looks 
 
 from the bonniest face 5 
 The dearest dear of all mine own is one in 
 
 greatest need, 
 The one whose burden heaviest weighs, 
 
 whose path is rough indeed. 
 For him I claim the help of Heaven, for him 
 
 I cling about 
 The cross of the All-pitifiil till flesh and 
 
 strength give out ,• 
 And still it is the neediest for whom I 
 
 plead and pray. 
 What time I bring my dearest dear to Christ 
 
 at fall of day. 
 
 127 
 
If, all imperfect as I am, thus love doth 
 
 reign in me. 
 How better far, and truer far, must Christ 
 
 the shepherd be, 
 Whose greater love hath largesse for the 
 
 w^eakest of his own— 
 Who, by the hunger and the thirst, the 
 
 faintness and the moan. 
 Doth measure still the bounty that, outflowing 
 
 day by day, 
 Uplifts and helps the weary one who stum- 
 
 bleth in the way. 
 Dear Love, sweet Love, thy dearest dear, 
 
 'tis he who most hath need. 
 Whose want and weakness are his prayer, 
 
 and without word can plead. 
 
A SONG OF THE BURDEN BEARER 
 
 Over the narrow footpath 
 
 That led from my lowly door, 
 I went with a thought of the Master, 
 
 As oft I had walked before ^ 
 My heart was heavily laden, 
 
 And with tears my eyes were dim, 
 But I knew I should lose the burden 
 
 Could I get a glimpse of Him. 
 
 Over the trodden pathway. 
 
 Through the fields all shorn and bare, 
 I went with a step that faltered, 
 
 And a face that told of care ; 
 I had lost the light of the morning, 
 
 With its shimmer of sun and dew. 
 But a gracious look of the Master 
 
 Would the strength of morn renew. 
 
 9 129 
 
While yet my courage wavered, 
 
 And the sky before me blurred, 
 I heard a voice behind me 
 
 Saying a tender word j 
 And I turned to see the brightness 
 
 Of heaven upon the road, 
 And suddenly lost the pressure 
 
 Of the weary, crushing load. 
 
 Nothing that hour was altered, 
 
 I had still the weight of care, 
 But I bore it now with the gladness 
 
 Which comes of answered prayer ^ 
 No grief the soul can fetter 
 
 Nor cloud its vision, when 
 The dear Lord gives the spirit 
 
 To breathe to His will, Amen. 
 
VESPERS 
 
 I LEAVE the city behind me, 
 
 Shaking its dust from my feet j 
 Leaving its thunder and roar of trade, 
 
 I haste to the covert sweet, 
 Where from the elm-boughs arching. 
 
 As in long cathedrals dim, 
 Through the hush of the lingering twilight 
 
 The thrushes sing a hymn. 
 
 In the town were hurry and bustle. 
 
 And squalor and sin were there, 
 And the trail of the worship of Mammon, 
 
 And the burden of strenuous care. 
 In the fields are silence and perfume. 
 
 And one may kneel and pray 
 In the calm and cloistered forest 
 
 At the tender fall of day. 
 The birds go flying homeward 
 
 To the nest in the tree-tops dim. 
 And the vespers die into stillness — 
 
 The thrush has finished his hymn. 
 131 
 
Oh, beautiful lanes, I love you 
 
 As you skirt the babbling brooks, 
 As you seek the foot of the mountain, 
 
 As you find the hidden nooks. 
 Where the ferns in great green masses 
 
 The edge of the swamp-land rim. 
 Where I linger till stars awake above 
 
 And the thrushes sing their hymn. 
 
*' In the fields are silence and perfume " 
 
ONE STEP AT A TIME 
 
 There's a mine of comfort for you and me 
 
 In a homely bit of truth 
 We were tenderly taught, at the mother's 
 knee, 
 
 In the happy days of youth. 
 It is, what though the road be long and 
 steep, 
 
 And we too weak to climb, 
 Or, what though the darkness gather deep, 
 
 We take one step at a time. 
 
 A single step and again a step. 
 
 Until, by safe degrees, 
 The mile-stones past, we win at last 
 
 Home when the King shall please. 
 And the strangest thing is often this : 
 
 That the briery, tangled spots 
 Which cumber our feet are thick and sweet 
 
 With our Lord's forget-me-nots. 
 133 
 
It matters little the pace we take 
 
 If we journey sturdily on, 
 With the burden bearer's steady gait, 
 
 Till the day's last hour is gone, 
 Or if with the dancing foot of the child. 
 
 Or the halting step of age. 
 We keep the goal in the eye of the soul 
 
 Through the years of our pilgrimage. 
 
 And yet in the tramp of appointed days 
 
 This thing must sometimes be, 
 That we falter and pause and bewildered 
 gaze, 
 
 For the road has led to the sea. 
 And the foeman's tread is on our track, 
 
 As once on the booming coast 
 Where the children of Israel, looking back, 
 
 Saw Pharaoh's threatening host. 
 
 Then clear from the skies our Leader's voice, 
 
 " Go forward," bids us dare 
 Whatever we meet with fearless feet 
 
 And the might of trustful prayer. 
 So, ever advancing day by day. 
 
 In the Master's strength sublime, 
 Even the lame shall take the prey, 
 
 Marching a step at a time. 
 134 
 
And what of the hours when hand and foot 
 
 We are bound and laid aside, 
 With the fevered vein, and the throbbing 
 pain, 
 
 And the world at its low ebb-tide? 
 And what of our day of the broken heart. 
 
 When all that our eyes can see 
 Is the vacant space, where the vanished face 
 
 Of our darling used to be ? 
 
 Then, waiting and watching, and almost 
 spent. 
 
 Comes peace from the Lord's own hand, 
 In His blessed will, if we rest content. 
 
 Though we cannot understand. 
 And we gather anew our courage and hope 
 
 For the road so rough to climb ; — 
 With trial and peril we well may cope, 
 
 A single step at a time. 
 
THE WORD SHE REMEMBERED 
 
 " You remember the sermon you heard, my 
 dear ?" 
 The little one blushed and dropped her 
 eyes, 
 Then lifted them bravely, with look of 
 cheer — 
 Eyes that were blue as the summer skies. 
 
 " Fm afraid I forgot what the minister said, 
 He said so much to grown-up men, 
 
 And the pulpit was 'way up over my head 5 
 But I told mamma that he said ' Amen.' 
 
 " And * Amen,' you know, means ' Let it 
 be,' 
 Whatever our Lord may please to do. 
 And that is sermon enough for me. 
 
 If I mind and feel so, the whole week 
 through." 
 
 I took the little one's word to heart, 
 I wish I could carry it all day long, 
 
 The "Amen" spirit, which hides the art 
 To meet each cross with a happy song. 
 136 
 
TE DEUM LAUDAMUS 
 
 We praise Thee ! We bless Thee ! 
 
 O Saviour, risen to-day ! 
 Thou who didst drain the bitter cup 
 Thou who Thy Ufe didst offer up, 
 
 To take our sins away ! 
 
 We praise Thee ! We bless Thee ! 
 
 O Lord of death and life ! 
 We follow where Thy feet have gone, 
 Through deepest night to fairest dawn, 
 
 To peace through stubborn strife ! 
 
 We praise Thee ! We bless Thee ! 
 
 Even when our hearts are riven! 
 Thou art anear the dying bed, 
 Thy hand beneath the fainting head. 
 
 And Thou Thyself art heaven ! 
 
We praise Thee ! We bless Thee ! 
 
 Beside each lowly mound 
 That, daisy-starred or lily-sown, 
 Is but the cover gently thrown 
 
 O'er one in Jesus found. 
 
 We praise Thee ! We bless Thee ! 
 
 With every pulse and breath. 
 
 Ours is the never-ending hymn 
 That saints began in ages dim. 
 
 Thou Conqueror of Death ! 
 
 We praise Thee ! We bless Thee ! 
 
 This happy Sabbath day. 
 Through earth and skies the chorus rings, 
 O Lord of lords and King of kings. 
 
 Who takes our sins away. 
 
THINE IS THE POWER 
 
 Thine is the power, Lord, 
 
 Ours is the need; 
 Trusting Thy precious word. 
 
 Dare we to plead. 
 Weaker than infants are, 
 
 Lonely and sad, 
 Thou art our Morning Star : 
 Oh, make us glad. 
 
 Thine is the power, Lord, 
 
 Empty are we ; 
 All grace with Thee is stored, 
 
 Filled let us be. 
 Vessels Thy hand has made, 
 
 Use us, we pray ; 
 So be Thy love displayed 
 
 In us each day. 
 
 Thine is the power, Lord, 
 
 Thou wilt provide j 
 Thou canst the strength afford, 
 
 When we are tried,- 
 Sorrows around us meet, 
 
 Deep the dark wave, 
 Still is Thy promise sweet. 
 
 Yet Thou wilt save. 
 139 
 
Thine is the power, Lord, 
 
 Therefore we come, 
 Trusting Thy precious word, 
 
 Thou art our home. 
 Till in Thine arms we rest. 
 
 Homesick are we ; 
 Fold us to Thy dear breast. 
 
 Draw us to Thee. 
 
 A THOUGHT 
 
 Seen by memory's magic. 
 
 Yesterday is golden ; 
 Hope illumes the morrow 5 
 
 Eyes are only holden 
 From some fair illusion 
 
 When they view to-day, 
 With its mists of morning. 
 
 Bitter blown away. 
 
 Yet of all the morrows 
 
 That from me are hidden ,• 
 All the bright days ended 
 
 Coming back unbidden,- 
 None or was or will be 
 
 Richer in its way 
 Than this open-handed, 
 
 Slightly prized to-day. 
 140 
 
FOLDED- HANDS 
 
 Pale, withered hands that more than four- 
 score years 
 Had wrought for others — soothed the hurt 
 
 of tears, 
 Rocked children's cradles, eased the fever's 
 
 smart, 
 Dropped tenderest balm in many an aching 
 
 heart — 
 Now stirless folded, like wan rose - leaves 
 
 pressed 
 Above the snow and silence of her breast. 
 In mute appeal they tell of labors done 
 And well-earned rest that came with set of 
 
 sun 5 
 From the worn brow the lines of care are 
 
 swept 
 As if an angel's kiss the while she slept 
 Had smoothed the cobweb wrinkles quite 
 
 away 
 And given back the peace of childhood's 
 day. 
 
 141 
 
A smile is on the lips as if she said, 
 
 " None know life's secret save the happy 
 
 dead/' 
 And, gazing where she lies, we feel that pain 
 And parting cannot cleave her soul again. 
 And we are sure that they who saw her 
 
 last 
 In that dim vista which we call the past, 
 Who never knew her old and weary-eyed, 
 Remembering best the maiden and the 
 
 bride, 
 Have sprung to greet her with the olden 
 
 speech, 
 The dear sweet names no later love can 
 
 teach, 
 And "Welcome Home'' they cried, and 
 
 grasped her hands — 
 So dwells the mother in the best of lands. 
 
•THE CURTAIN FALLS 
 
 Over the sorrow and over the bliss, 
 Over the tear-drop, over the kiss, 
 Over the crimes that blotted and blurred. 
 Over the wound of the hasty word, 
 Over the deeds in weakness done, 
 Over the battles lost and won. 
 Now at the end of the flying year, 
 Year that to-morrow will not be here, 
 Over our freedom, over our thralls, 
 In the hush of the midnight the curtain 
 falls. 
 
 Over our gain and over our loss, 
 Over our crown and over our cross. 
 Over the fret of our discontent, 
 Over the ill that we never meant. 
 Over the scars of our self-denial, 
 Over the strength that conquered trial. 
 Now in the end of the flying year, 
 Year that to-morrow will not be here, 
 Quietly final, the prompter calls ^ 
 Swiftly the dusk of the curtain falls. 
 143 
 
Over the crowds and the solitudes, 
 
 Over our shifting, hurrying moods, 
 
 Over the hearths whei*e bright flames leap 
 
 Over the cribs where the babies sleep, 
 
 Over the clamor, over the strife, 
 
 Over the pageantry of life. 
 
 Now in the end of the flying year, 
 
 Year that to-morrow will not be here, 
 
 Swiftly and surely, from starry walls, 
 
 Silently downward the curtain falls. 
 
 THE END