PS 2433 
 
 118 
 Copy 1 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 
 
 -?S t4^;3 
 
 ii^aji injnjngl^ f 0. 
 
 Shelf ...,.^.S 
 
 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 
 
•*- 
 
Heavenly Dawn, 
 
 frigmal ani> %Mi^ f ittes, 
 
 BY ^ 
 
 MARGARET H. MORRIS. 
 
 V 
 
 2^/3 
 
 PHILADELPHIA: 
 
 CLAXTON, REMSEN & HAFFELFINGER, 
 
 624, 626, 628 Market Street, 
 
 i879« 
 
 ^ 
 
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1878, by 
 
 MARGARET H. MORRIS, 
 
 In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 
 
 Westcott & Thomson, 
 
 Stereot^ptn and EUctrotyperSi Philada, 
 
"Farm View." 
 
 This book is published at the suggestion of 
 beloved Parents, who have since entered into 
 eternal rest ; whose lives on earth were beauti- 
 ful and lovely; and whose intercourse among 
 men adorned the doctrine of God our Saviour. 
 
 The design of this publication, is to present 
 the endearing associations of Home-Life on 
 earth, and drift the reader pleasantly, through 
 the varied scenes of an earthly pilgrimage, to 
 "rest unspeakable and full of glory" in our 
 Heavenly Home. 
 
 Margaret H. Morris. 
 
 Upper Dublin, Montgomery co., Pa. 
 
Mother! Thou wast the guiding spirit of our 
 home ; 
 
 To thee my gift I'd bring, 
 As to his nest at eve a bird would come, 
 
 His sweetest songs to sing. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 AUTHOR. 
 
 ciginaL 1 
 
 \ M. S. J 
 
 (f^riginal 
 
 F. 
 
 5anfeno\xin. 
 13. Hagmonti, 
 
 (Siaxxit ^Iton, 
 
 SECTION I. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 OLD HOMES 23 
 
 HOME, SWEET HOME 24 
 
 HOME 26 
 
 LOVING AND FAITHFUL 2/ 
 
 FATHER 33 
 
 MOTHER 34 
 
 THE FAMILY 35 
 
 MAKING OTHERS HAPPY 36 
 
 GENTLE AVORDS 37 
 
 GENTLY CHECK A CHILD 38 
 
 THE child's PRAYER 39 
 
 THE HOME SERVICE 4I 
 
 SEEDS 42 
 
 SOWING IN HOPE 44 
 
 ONLY 46 
 
 DO SOMETHING 47 
 
 SOMETHING FOR SOMEBODY ... 48 
 
 don't LET MOTHER DO IT ... • 49 
 
 11 
 
12 
 
 
 (©riginaL 1 
 
 F. M. S. J 
 
 5Enltncib3n. 
 
 a. Otareg. 
 
 C, or. mpjam^ 
 
 Original. 1 
 
 F. M. S. / 
 
 Co7ite7its. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 WORK TO-DAY 5I 
 
 TRUST AND FOLLOW 53 
 
 TEACH ME THY LESSONS, 
 
 LORD 53 
 
 ONWARD COURAGEOUSLY. . 56 
 
 PRAISE HIM 58 
 
 THE GOLDEN SIDE 59 
 
 life's GOLDEN LEAVES. . . 6 1 
 
 MAIDENHOOD 65 
 
 TO THE BRIDE G"] 
 
 A MEMORY 68 
 
 A PICTURE 71 
 
 A TWILIGHT SCENE 73 
 
 TWILIGHT 74 
 
 A SABBATH AT THE HOME- 
 STEAD 76 
 
 THE OLD FAMILY CRADLE. Zd 
 
 RECONCILED 89 
 
 THE HEART KNOWETH ITS 
 
 OWN BITTERNESS .... 92 
 
 SILENCE UNDER TRIALS . . 93 
 
 THE TEMPEST-TOSSED .... 94 
 
 WAITING 98 
 
 OLD LETTERS lOI 
 
 THOUGHTS OF AGE. ..... I08 
 
 LOVE THE OLD IIO 
 
Contents, 
 
 13 
 
 mnfenobjn* 
 
 <E. or, or. 
 
 F. M. S. / 
 
 PAGE 
 
 MOTHER ^ ^^ 
 
 MY GOOD OLD-FASHIONED MOTHER 112 
 
 MY mother's face 114 
 
 MY MOTHER 1^7 
 
 OUR MOTHER 1^9 
 
 grandmother's SERMON 121 
 
 COMING ^^4- 
 
 THE SUNSET OF LIFE 13° 
 
 THE SPIRIT OF CONSOLATION 135 
 
 [inaL 1 
 1. s. i 
 
 F. M. 
 
 
 SECTION 11. 
 
 TO MY FRIENDS ^39 
 
 FRIENDSHIP 140 
 
 GRANT ME, O GOD, A STAR TO BE 1 42 
 
 TO MY FRIENDS H3 
 
 CAST THY BURDEN 144 
 
 QUESTION NOT H5 
 
 DO RIGHT ^4-0 
 
 FAITH 147 
 
 TO A FRIEND ^49 
 
 COMMUNION ^ 5° 
 
 THE INVITATION : • • ^ 5^ 
 
14 
 
 AUTHOR. 
 
 
 M* l^rainartJ. 
 Uamarttne, 
 
 13onar, 
 jmiller. 
 
 Co7itents. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 DIFFICULTIES 1 55 
 
 TO A FRIEND 1 58 
 
 THE SHADOW AND THE LIGHT 160 
 
 LITTLE BY LITTLE 164 
 
 LINKS IN THE CHAIN 166 
 
 DO JUSTLY 168 
 
 MIZPAH 168 
 
 JESUS ONLY 170 
 
 A SONG OF THANKS I7I 
 
 PRAYER 172 
 
 THOUGHTS AT THE GRAVE OF 
 
 A FRIEND 173 
 
 EXPRESSIVE SILENCE I75 
 
 TRIFLE NOT 180 
 
 FINISH THY WORK 181 
 
 HIDDEN LIFE 182 
 
 AT THE LAST 184 
 
 KNOWING AS WE ARE KNOWN. 1 85 
 
 (f^rifiinaL 
 
 F. M. S 
 
 .'■} 
 
 SECTION III. 
 
 NATURE 189 
 
 MYSTERIES OF NATURE I90 
 
 THE BEST TEACHER I92 
 
Contents, 1 5 
 
 AUTHOR. ^^^^ 
 
 <^wnaL| ^^^^^3^ ,^3 
 
 F. M. S. J 
 
 ^Enknoton, morning 194 
 
 ^non, NOON 195 
 
 ^onar, evening 19^ 
 
 H. (2!5rant, night 197 
 
 i^lOOmfieltl, THE SEASONS I98 
 
 Scripture, the months 199 
 
 gj, 13. OTiaterturg* the snow-wreath — 204 
 
 5Rnltnobn. wanderings 206 
 
 «« THE alpine cataract. 21$ 
 
 «« THE MOUNTAIN STREAM. 219 
 
 «« A RAINY DAY 221 
 
 <« AFTER THE STORM 22$ 
 
 " SPRING 227 
 
 «* BIRDS 228 
 
 IS. S- SWlti^, THE WOOD-THRUSH 23O 
 
 (DrigmaL \ ^ praise-meeting of 
 
 F. M. S. J THE BIRDS 235 
 
 5Enltnob3n, to a sea-gull 253 
 
 (jT^^ l^OSSetti* CONSIDER THE LILIES OF 
 
 THE FIELD 256 
 
 ^UnkltOton, THE PRAISE-MEETING OF 
 
 THE FLOWERS 257 
 
 31. (^. iL3)0nS. CONSIDER THE LILIES . . 262 
 
 5Enifeno \nn. evening thought 264 
 
 ©nsinaLj ^^^^^ ,64 
 
 F. M. S. J 
 
1 6 Contents. 
 
 AUTHOR. PAGE 
 
 5Etti&^tlCt0tt» AUTUMN IN THE WOODS 266 
 
 " THE AUTUMN FOREST. 268 
 
 " THE FALLEN LEAF. . . 270 
 
 J^. IST^alL LEAFLESS TREES .... 277 
 
 ^Se Spirit's (EJanfle. the works of god . 281 
 
 SECTION IV. 
 
 ^anfenobn. here am i 285 
 
 " beneath his wing. . 286 
 
 «• CALLED aside 288 
 
 " CLINGING TO THEE . . 29O 
 
 " HE KNOWETH BEST . . 292 
 
 «« HE STIRRED MY NEST 294 
 
 " ALL, ALL IS KNOWN 
 
 TO THEE 296 
 
 «« WORDS OF COMFORT . 298 
 
 " JESUS, MY SAVIOUR, 
 
 LOOK ON ME . . . 299 
 
 " MEMORIALS 30I 
 
 " THE SINGLE HEAD OF 
 
 WHEAT 303 
 
 " KNOW THYSELF 309 
 
 " THE SECRET SPRING. 3IO 
 
 H.^- 
 
AUTHOR. 
 
 F. M. S. J 
 
 WBaxim. 
 
 Contents. 1 7 
 
 PAGE 
 
 watch for the morning 313 
 
 quietly rest 3i 5 
 
 all's well 317 
 
 god ever near 318 
 
 past and present 3i9 
 
 a thought 320 
 
 psalm xvi. 5 , 322 
 
 SECTION V. 
 
 '■■) 
 
 (DrigmaL 
 
 F. M. S. 
 
 barton* 
 
 li3urleigft» 
 lEUiott, 
 
 ©loset of f rajjer, 
 
 THE CLOSET OF PRAYER 325 
 
 RETIREMENT AND PRAYER 326 
 
 MY VESPER-SONG 327 
 
 PRAYER AND PRAISE 330 
 
 THY WILL BE DONE 331 
 
 PRAYER FOR DIVINE STRENGTH. . 332 
 
 FAITH 333 
 
 THE ANGEL OF THE LORD 335 
 
 THE HOUR OF PRAYER 336 
 
 THE HOURS OF EVENING CLOSE . . 337 
 
1 8 Contents. 
 
 AUTHOR. PAGE 
 
 5EnknClton» the parting spirit 338 
 
 " THE EVENING SERVICE 34D 
 
 '• NIGHT-MUSINGS 342 
 
 JIJ. iHOCire* MIDNIGHT HYMN 343 
 
 ^Enknolun* still with thee 345 
 
 MORNING PRAYER IN ILLNESS .... 347 
 
 " THE EARTHLY TEMPLE 349 
 
 liSlaring, psalm xxiv. i — 354 
 
 SECTION VI. 
 
 ^nifenobn, memories 357 
 
 '* LIGHT 358 
 
 ** SLEEPING 358 
 
 " A. P. M 359 
 
 *♦ OUR MOTHER 361 
 
 *♦ THE saint's DEPARTURE 364 
 
 ** FOLD HER hands GENTLY 366 
 
 " MOTHER 367 
 
 ^. IB, ^. I LOVE THY GRAVE 369 
 
 Original. 1 
 
 > THE BLESSEDNESS OF TEARS 37O 
 
 F. M. b. J 
 
AUTHOR. 
 
 Contents. 1 9 
 
 PAGE 
 
 A LITTLE WAY 37 1 
 
 FATHER AND MOTHER 373 
 
 FOLD THEM 373 
 
 SUNSET 374 
 
 THE PILGRIMAGE PATH 374 
 
 (DriQinaL 1 
 
 F. M. S. J 
 
 Conner. 
 
 SECTION VII. 
 
 i^eabenlg Baton. 
 
 satisfied 377 
 
 life's years 378 
 
 western light 380 
 
 heavenly dawn 38i 
 
 THE VOICE OF THE LORD 382 
 
 THE NEW SONG 383 
 
 ON THE THRESHOLD 384 
 
 THE BORDER-LAND 385 
 
 THE OTHER WORLD 388 
 
 MANY MANSIONS 39O 
 
 I SHALL BE SATISFIED 39 1 
 
20 
 
 Contents. 
 
 F. M. S. J 
 
 ©pi&am. 
 
 SECTION VIII. 
 
 PAGE 
 HEAVEN 395 
 
 REST 396 
 
 HEAVENLY REST 399 
 
 OUR FATHER WHICH ART IN HEA- 
 VEN 400 
 
 HEAVEN 401 
 
I. 
 
 HOME LIFE. 
 
Home-Life 
 
 Old Homes. 
 
 Fond memory ofttimes seems to ivy turned, 
 
 So lovingly it clings to ruined places 
 Where youthful hearts and lips and eyes once 
 burned, 
 And where they have left behind a few sad 
 traces. 
 
 Can there be found one other spot on earth 
 To which its tendrils cling through all the 
 morrows 
 More close than to the home that gave us birth. 
 With all its scenes of our first joys and sor- 
 rows ? 
 
24 Home, Sweet Home. 
 
 The garden gate, the overhanging trees, 
 
 The neighboring forge, with its harmonious 
 clinking, 
 The woodbine porch that fed the busy bees, 
 The winding brook where all the kine stood 
 drinking, — 
 
 These, these are cherished memories of the 
 soul 
 That, blending with two sweet pale furrowed 
 faces. 
 Hold all our human being in control, 
 
 And make old homes the holiest of places. 
 
 Home, Sweet Home. 
 
 How cheering and sweet in a cold world like 
 this. 
 When joys melt away like the shore-driven 
 foam. 
 To feel that one's heart is a planet of bliss 
 Revolving in light round the centre of home. 
 
Home, Sweet Home, 25 
 
 The soul may pursue the bright meteor of 
 fame, 
 The phantoms of glory, ambition or pride; 
 But their glitter is false as their pleasures are 
 tame 
 Compared with the bliss of one's own fire- 
 side. 
 
 All joys are delusive save those of the heart. 
 The grass may be green while it grows on a 
 tomb, 
 But the verdure of feeling can never depart 
 When the soil where it springs is the garden 
 of home. 
 
 The world may have pleasures all sparkling and 
 gay 
 As the crystals of snow which the branches 
 adorn, 
 But the first breath of sorrow will sweep them 
 away. 
 While the heart, like the tree, is left bare and 
 forlorn. 
 
26 Home, 
 
 Oh, then, when the bosom has cares which an- 
 noy, 
 And the fair sky of life becomes chequer'd 
 with gloom, 
 How blissful to think that a fountain of joy 
 As a well-spring of pleasure is gushing at 
 home! 
 
 Home. 
 
 Then the disciples went away unto their own home.— John 
 
 XX. 10. 
 
 Where burns the fireside brightest, 
 
 Cheering the social breast? 
 Where beats the fond heart lightest, 
 
 Its humble hopes possessed ? 
 Where is the hour of sadness, 
 
 With meek-eyed patience borne. 
 Worth more than those of gladness 
 
 Which Mirth's gay cheeks adorn? 
 Pleasure is marked by fleetness 
 
 To those who ever roam. 
 
Loving and Faithful. 27 
 
 While grief itself has sweetness 
 At home, sweet home. 
 
 There blend the ties that strengthen 
 
 Our hearts in hours of grief, 
 The silver links that lengthen 
 
 Joy's visits when most brief: 
 There eyes in all their splendor 
 
 Are vocal to the heart, 
 And glances bright and tender 
 
 Fresh eloquence impart. 
 Then dost thou sigh for pleasure? 
 
 Oh, do not widely roam. 
 But seek that hidden treasure 
 
 At home, sweet home. 
 
 Loving and Faithful. 
 
 " Loving and faithful " even unto death ! 
 
 Well may it falter, 
 The lip, this solemn promise as it saith 
 
 Before that altar 
 
28 Loving aiid FaithfuL 
 
 Where o'er the trembling covenanters lean 
 Recording angel and high priest unseen. 
 
 *' Loving and faithful !" What ! is it to be 
 
 Now and for ever? 
 The heart is asking as it puts to sea, 
 
 To turn back never, 
 If it can keep its promise of to-day 
 In its full meaning sacred and alway. 
 
 " Loving and faithful " while a boundless reach 
 
 Of spotless azure 
 O'erarches hearts too full for common speech 
 
 Their bliss to measure. 
 ** Loving and faithful " even when clouds lie 
 In rolls of silvered fleece along the sky. 
 
 " Loving and faithful " while existence fills 
 
 With joy o'erflowing, 
 While in their faces sweet airs from the hills 
 
 Of morn are blowing, 
 And when loud storm-winds have their own 
 
 wild will, 
 Wrapping their vow around them closer still. 
 
Loving and Faithfnl. 29 
 
 ''Loving and faithful" through the common lot; 
 
 Rejoicing, weeping ; 
 Whether in palace home or humble cot, 
 
 Their high trust keeping, 
 And when life's daily wear to life shall bring 
 The spots, that round poor human nature 
 cling. 
 
 " Loving and faithful" through the spirit's strife ; 
 
 With joy o'erflowing 
 In lonely byways ; struggling for its life 
 
 Where no eye follows; 
 In earnest wrestling with its household foes 
 How earnest and how strong One only knows. 
 
 I have been reading in the life of two — 
 
 _ A sire and mother — 
 Whom change, and care, and sorrow nearer 
 
 drew 
 
 To one another; 
 Closer and closer, till the winter sod 
 Lay on his breast, whose soul went up to 
 
 God. 
 
30 Loving and Faithful. 
 
 They shared together many a bitter cup 
 
 And tear-wet pillow, 
 But each the other's sinking head bore up 
 
 O'er wave and billow, 
 For they had pitched their tent with faith-lit 
 
 eyes 
 By windows opening out toward Paradise. 
 
 There they often sat at eve and read 
 
 Alone together. 
 Or watching when dark days were overhead, 
 
 And stormy weather, 
 The far blue hills which earth from heaven 
 
 divide. 
 Tipped with the glory of the inner side. 
 
 They had their sunny days and simple joys 
 
 And fireside pleasures. 
 And gifts of merry-hearted girls and boys 
 
 For household treasures. 
 These grew and left them; children's children 
 
 came 
 Back with the mother's look and father's name. 
 
Loving and Faithful. 31 
 
 Then tiny feet went pattering all about 
 
 The empty places — 
 Recovered sunbeams peeping in and out, 
 
 Their sweet round faces 
 And loving ways and little clinging arms 
 To toil and care perpetual counter-charms. 
 
 They had their friends — the warm, the tried, 
 the true, 
 
 Some great, some lowly ; 
 Their unassuming goodness round them drew 
 
 The pure, the holy. 
 Sweet singers came, and saints' ascending pray- 
 ers 
 Their low-roofed dwelling filled with odorous 
 airs. 
 
 Their hearth-stone was a broad and pleasant 
 space 
 
 Where many mingled, 
 Where none for honor and the highest place 
 
 Apart were singled, 
 
32 Loving and Faithful. 
 
 This their example has bequeathed for others ; 
 The children of one father, all are brothers. 
 
 And as their souls' hves glided into one, 
 
 The tie that bound them 
 Seemed lovelier with each day's duty done 
 
 To those around them ; 
 The bridal ring grew brighter and more bright 
 As on they journeyed with the sons of light. 
 
 They had the Christian's fare — hard, rugged steeps 
 
 To travel over; 
 But He who faithful ones for ever keeps 
 
 Safe under cover 
 Shook down upon them from its crystal lining 
 The healing of His wings above them shining. 
 
 Age brought them sicknesses and silver hairs, 
 
 But morn and even 
 Still found them higher up the narrow stairs 
 
 That wind to heaven. 
 Just at the landing they missed one another : 
 God parted them, the father and the mother. 
 
Fathci% 33 
 
 From the hushed chamber where the dying lay 
 
 Sweet rose their hymning; 
 The tears from her meek eyes he wiped away, 
 
 His own fast dimming. 
 We thank thee, Father, that our souls can see 
 No shadow on the path that leads to Thee. 
 
 By the sick father sat the aged mother, 
 
 Watching and bending 
 O'er him with love Jie counted like no other 
 
 To the still ending; 
 It found them with clasped hands and mingling 
 
 breath, 
 " Loving and faithful " even unto death. 
 
 Fa ther. 
 
 Of all the knots which Nature ties — 
 The secret, sacred sympathies 
 That as with viewless chains of gold 
 The heart a happy prisoner hold — 
 
 3 
 
34 MotJie7\ 
 
 None is more bright, more chaste, more pure, 
 Stronger stern trials to endure, 
 None is more purged of earthly leaven, 
 More like the love of highest heaven, 
 Than that which binds in bonds how blest 
 A daughter to a Father's breast. 
 
 Mother. 
 
 Mother, thou wast the guiding spirit of our 
 home : 
 
 To thee my gift I'd bring, 
 As to his nest at eve a bird will come 
 
 His sweetest songs to sing. 
 
 A mother's love ! Oh, what can earth bestow 
 
 So steady and so pure? 
 Its flame divine more clearly seems to glow 
 
 The more it must endure. 
 
 A mother's love ! Oh, ye who know the bliss, 
 Treasure it while you may; 
 
The Family. 35 
 
 The time will come when you imprint your kiss 
 On unresponsive clay. 
 
 Whate'er your pathway, over thorns or flowers, 
 
 No other love shall come 
 So truly yours as this, that blessed life's hours 
 
 Within your childhood's home. 
 
 The Family. 
 
 The family is like a book : 
 The children are the leaves ; 
 
 The parents are the cover that 
 Protective beauty gives. 
 
 At first the pages of the book 
 Are blank and purely fair; 
 
 But Time soon writeth memories 
 And painteth pictures there. 
 
 Love is the little golden clasp 
 That bindeth up the trust; 
 
 Oh, break it not, lest all the leaves 
 Shall scatter and be lost. 
 
36 Making O therms Happy, 
 
 Making Others Happy, 
 
 A merry heart doeth good like a medicine. — Prov. xvii. 22. 
 
 A MERRY sunbeam in a glen, 
 " Far from the busy haunts of men," 
 Lay thinking what it best could do 
 To render others happy too. 
 
 It wandered to the forest gray, 
 And found the wild winds in their play 
 Had stripped the noble woodland trees 
 Of half their pretty brilliant leaves. 
 
 The wild-flower lifted up its head 
 To see the sunbeam pass its bed, 
 And thought within its tiny self, 
 Who was that laughing, dancing elf? 
 
 It hastened to the river-side 
 And kissed the angry, heaving tide, 
 Until the waters, cold and deep. 
 Lay still as if in peaceful sleep. 
 
Gentle Words, 37 
 
 It 7iext tripped by a cottage door, 
 And shone across the sanded floor, 
 Until the children stopped their play 
 To bless the little golden ray. 
 
 May we all like this sunbeam be 
 From every selfish motive free. 
 Willing to do all in our power 
 To fill with joy each coming hour. 
 
 Gentle Words. 
 
 How sweet are words of kindness 
 From dear ones that we love! 
 
 How like celestial favors 
 Descended from above 1 
 
 / guard these wordy treasures 
 As miser guards his hoards. 
 
 How costless, yet hoiv priceless. 
 Are sweet and gentle zvords ! 
 
^S Gently Check a Child, 
 
 Gently Check a Child. 
 
 A child, when asked why a certain tree grew crooked, re- 
 plied, " Somebody trod upon it, I suppose, when it was little," 
 
 He who checks a child with terror, 
 Stops its play and stills its song, 
 
 Not alone commits an error, 
 But a grievous moral wrong. 
 
 Give it play and never fear it : 
 
 Active life is no defect; 
 Never, never break its spirit; 
 
 Curb it only to direct. 
 
 Would you stop the flowing river, 
 Thinking it would cease to flow? 
 
 Onward must it flow for ever: 
 Better teach it where to go. 
 
The Child's Prayer. 39 
 
 The Child's Prayer. 
 
 Into her chamber went 
 
 A little maid one day, 
 And by a chair she knelt, 
 And thus began to pray: 
 " Jesus, my eyes I close — 
 Thy form I cannot see; 
 If thou art near me, Lord, 
 I pray thee speak to me." 
 A still small voice she heard within her call : 
 " What is it, child ? I hear thee ; tell me all." 
 
 ** I pray thee, Lord," she said, 
 "That thou wilt condescend 
 To tarry in my heart. 
 
 And ever be my friend. 
 The path of life is dark — 
 I would not go astray; 
 Oh, let me have thy hand 
 To lead me in the way." 
 " Fear not ; I will not leave thee, child, alone." 
 She thought she felt a soft hand press her own. 
 
40 The Child's Prayer, 
 
 " They tell me, Lord, that all 
 The living pass away — 
 The aged soon imist die, 
 
 And even children may. 
 Oh, let my parents live 
 
 Till I a woman grow; 
 For if they die, what can 
 A little orphan do?" 
 " Fear not, my child ; whatever ills may come, 
 I'll not forsake thee till I bring thee home." 
 
 Her little prayer was said, 
 
 And from her chamber now 
 She pass'd forth with the light 
 Of heaven upon her brow. 
 " Mother, I've seen the Lord ; 
 His hand in mine I felt; 
 And oh, I heard him say, 
 As by my chair I knelt, 
 ' Fear not, my child ; whatever ills may come, 
 I'll not forsake thee till I bring thee home.'" 
 
The Home Service, 41 
 
 The Home Service. 
 
 Grandpa hears the church-bells ringing 
 On the holy Sabbath morn; 
 
 Poor old grandpa ! he is aged, 
 
 And his strength is sorely worn ; 
 
 So within his chair he's sitting, 
 
 With his grandchild round him flitting. 
 
 But the childish eyes discover 
 
 That his eyes are churchward turned. 
 Precious child ! her heart is thoughtful, 
 Though she be not wise or learned : 
 ■ Dear old dranpa ! don't be sorry ! 
 Make a minister of Florry !" 
 
 Soon the Bible, large and heavy, 
 
 Lies upon the little knee 
 Upside down ; but Florry, singing 
 
 Little hymns so earnestly. 
 Never dreams but that her preaching 
 Equals all the church is teaching. 
 
42 Seeds. 
 
 Good old grandpa! he is happy 
 
 With the little singer near; 
 Now " I want to be an angel " 
 
 Sweetly falls upon his ear. 
 But what's this ? The church is closing ; 
 Tired grandpapa is dozing! 
 
 Seeds. 
 
 We are sowing, daily sowing, 
 
 Countless seeds of good and ill, 
 Scattered on the level lowland. 
 
 Cast upon the windy hill — 
 Seeds that sink in rich brown furrows 
 
 Soft with heaven's gracious rain ; 
 Seeds that rest upon the surface 
 
 Of the dry unyielding plain ; 
 
 Seeds that fall amid the stillness 
 Of the lonely mountain glen ; 
 
 Seeds cast out in crowded places, 
 Trodden under foot of men; 
 
Seeds. 43 
 
 Seeds by idle hearts forgotten, 
 
 Flung at random on the air; 
 Seeds by faithful souls remembered, 
 
 Sown in tears and love and prayer; 
 
 Seeds that lie unchanged, unquickened, 
 
 Lifeless, on the teeming mould ; 
 Seeds that live and grow and flourish 
 
 When the sower's hand is cold. 
 By a whisper sow we blessings. 
 
 By a breath we scatter strife ; 
 In our words and looks and actions 
 
 Lie the seeds of death and life. 
 
 Thou who knowest all our weakness, 
 
 Leave us not to sow alone; 
 Bid Thine angels guard the furrows 
 
 Where the precious grain is sown, 
 Till the fields are crowned with glory, 
 
 Filled with mellow ripened ears — 
 Filled with fruit of life eternal 
 
 From the seeds we sowed in tears. 
 
44 Sowing in Hope. 
 
 Check the froward thoughts and passions, 
 
 Stay the hasty, heedless hands, 
 Lest the germs of sin and sorrow 
 
 Mar our fair and pleasant lands. 
 Father, help each weak endeavor, 
 
 Make each faithful effort blest, 
 Till Thine harvest shall be garnered 
 
 And we enter into rest. 
 
 I 
 
 Sowing in Hope, 
 
 ** My words are poor and weak," I said ; " they 
 pass 
 Like summer wind above the summer grass. 
 
 " To utter them seems idle and in vain ; 
 I cannot hope to gather them again. 
 
 "And yet, impelled by some deep inward 
 voice, 
 I must work on ; I have no other choice. 
 
Sowing in Hope. 45 
 
 " But oh, my words are poor and weak," I said ; 
 "The truth is quick, the utterance cold and 
 dead." 
 
 "Nay, nay, not so!" he answered. "Sow thy 
 seed 
 Unquestioning; God knoweth there is need. 
 
 " For every grain of truth in weakness sown 
 He watches over who protects his own. 
 
 "Though buried long, it shall spring up at 
 length. 
 And shake like Lebanon its fruitful strength.'* 
 
 ' He said and left me, while I pondered o'er 
 The holy truths so often heard before. 
 
 And while I pondered, unawares there stole 
 A strange, sweet, subtle strength through all 
 my soul. 
 
 I rose and went my way, and asked no more 
 If words of mine had any fruit in store ; 
 
46 Only, 
 
 Content to drop my patient seed, although 
 My hands shall never gather where they strow ; 
 
 Leaving the harvest, be it great or small, 
 In His dear keeping who is all in all. 
 
 Onl Y. 
 
 Only a seed ! but it chanced to fall 
 In a little cleft of a city wall, 
 And taking root grew bravely up, 
 Till a tiny blossom crowned its top. 
 
 Only a flower! but it chanced that day 
 That a burdened heart passed by that way; 
 And the message that through the flower was 
 
 sent 
 Brought the weary soul a sweet content. 
 
 For it spake of the lilies so wondrously clad, 
 And the heart that was tired grew strangely 
 glad 
 
Do So7nething. 47 
 
 At the thought of a tender care over all 
 That noted even a sparrow's fall. 
 
 Only a thought! but the work it wrought 
 Could never by tongue or pen be taught ; 
 For it ran through a life like a thread of gold, 
 And the life bore fruit a hundred fold. 
 
 Only a word ! but 'twas spoken in love, 
 With a whispered prayer to the Lord above; 
 And the angels in heaven rejoiced once more, 
 For a new-born soul " entered in by the door." 
 
 Do Something. 
 
 If the world seems cold to you, 
 Kindle fires to warm it; 
 
 Let their comfort hide from you 
 Winters that deform it. 
 
 Hearts as frozen as your own 
 To that radiance gather; 
 
48 Somethi7ig for Somebody. 
 
 You will soon forget to moan, 
 ** Ah ! the cheerless weather !" 
 
 If the world's a " vale of tears," 
 
 Smile till rainbows span it ; 
 Breathe the love that life endears, 
 
 Clear from clouds to fan it. 
 Of your gladness lend a gleam 
 
 Unto souls that shiver; 
 Show them how dark Sorrow's stream 
 
 Blends with Hope's bright river. 
 
 Something for Somebody. 
 
 Something for somebody ! Let it peal 
 
 Through the daybreak of the morning air; 
 
 Something for somebody ! Let it steal 
 As a soft echo after prayer. 
 
 Something for somebody ! Let it ring 
 
 A clear keynote through the common chord ; 
 
 Something for somebody ! Let it 'bring 
 A new, fresh grace to the family board. 
 
Something for Somebody. 49 
 
 Something for somebody ! How or why, 
 It makes no odds how small it may be — 
 
 The humblest duty that's just close by, 
 
 The small sweet kindness that's next to 
 thee ; 
 
 The giving a book, a flower, a tone, 
 
 The cup of water to weary lip; 
 The helping the angel roll a stone 
 
 Out of a path where a foot might slip. 
 
 Something for somebody ! He prays best 
 Who lives in this great unspoken prayer, 
 
 Which waketh a life-song in his breast 
 That even the angels stop to hear. 
 
 Life's angels listen ; life's angels seize 
 
 The "something" hidden within the chord 
 
 In this: "Given to one of the least of these:" 
 
 They catch a " something " given to God. 
 4 
 
50 Don't let Mother do it. 
 
 Don't let Mother do it 
 
 Daughter, don't let mother do it! 
 
 Do not let her slave and toil 
 While you sit, a useless idler, 
 
 Fearing your soft hands to soil. 
 Don't you see the heavy burdens 
 
 Daily she is wont to bear 
 Bring the lines upon her forehead, 
 
 Sprinkle silver in her hair? 
 
 Daughter, don't let mother do it! 
 
 Do not let her bake and broil 
 Through the long, bright summer hours; 
 
 Share with her the heavy toil. 
 See ! her eye has lost its brightness, 
 
 Faded from her cheek the glow, 
 And the step that once was buoyant 
 
 Now is feeble, weak and slow. 
 
 Daughter, don't let mother do it! 
 
 She has cared for you so long! 
 Is it right the weak^nd feeble 
 
 Should be toiling for the strong? 
 
Work To-day. 51 
 
 Waken from your listless languor, 
 
 Seek her side to cheer and bless, 
 And your grief will be less bitter 
 When the sods above her press. 
 
 Daughter, don't let mother do it! 
 
 You will never, never kn^W'"' ' 
 What were home without a mother 
 
 Till that mother lieth low — 
 Low beneath the budding daisies, 
 
 Free from earthly care and pain, 
 To the home so sad without her 
 
 Never to return again. 
 
 Work To-day. 
 
 Let us now be up and doing, 
 Let us work while it is day ; 
 
 Soon the shades of night shall gather 
 O'er our dim receding way. 
 
 Ere the silver cord is broken 
 And our feeble life is o'er, 
 
52 Wo7^k To-day. 
 
 Let us work to-day in earnest, 
 For to-day shall come no more. 
 
 Life is not the time for slumber; 
 
 Hate and danger mar the road; 
 Men yet dwell in sin and darkness 
 
 In the vineyard of thy God. 
 Lift thy voice to wandering mortals ; 
 
 Speak the truth that all may hear; 
 Nobly combat wrong and error, 
 
 Firm in purpose, without fear. 
 
 God is o'er thee; Truth is mighty; 
 
 Faith and Love are wondrous strong ; 
 Songs of triumph wait on Labor: 
 
 All high deeds to her belong. 
 Nature works ; true life is action : 
 
 Brother, wield this godlike power; 
 Live and act to-day in earnest; 
 
 Act and live thy little hour. 
 
Teach me thy Lessons, Lord, 53 
 Trust and Follow, 
 
 Upon thy God must thou rely, 
 
 In bhndness venture all, 
 Nor dare complain nor question why. 
 
 In faith obey His call. 
 And thy whole being with Him leave 
 
 In singleness of heart, 
 By losing self from Him receive 
 
 A brighter, better part. 
 Thus bow beneath His holy hand 
 
 Who gives whate'er thou needs. 
 Hear and obey His blest command, 
 
 And ask not where it leads. 
 
 Teach me thy Lessons, Lord. 
 
 We know that all things work together for good to them 
 that love God. 
 
 Teach me Thy lessons. Lord, in Thine own 
 way 
 
 From day to day ; 
 
54 Teach 7ne thy Lessons, Loi^d. 
 
 The changings and the turnings in my lot 
 Are not forgot. 
 
 And though the winding path be hid from 
 view, 
 
 Yet Thou canst see; 
 Thou knowest each stone, each thorn, upon 
 the road, 
 
 Thou knowest the load: 
 If 'tis too heavy, Thou wilt bear a part 
 Upon Thy heart. 
 
 Sometimes the sunshine on my path is seen, 
 
 And all is green ; 
 Will it last long ? I may not seek to see : 
 
 'Tis known to Thee. 
 
 Sometimes a river dark and wide appears. 
 
 And wakes my fears, 
 And oft I linger, weeping, on the brink, 
 
 Dreading to sink. 
 But the7i^ Thy voice sounds gently at my side: 
 
 " Fear not the tide ; 
 Though deep the waters run, far off the shore, 
 
 I'll bear thee o'er." 
 
Teach me thy Lessons, Loi^d. 55 
 
 No longer, then, I'll yield to doubt and sin, 
 
 But will step in ; 
 Though wide the flood, yet wider is Thy love. 
 
 Which oft I prove; 
 Though it be deep. Thine arms are still be- 
 neath. 
 
 To save from death. 
 Then let me journey on with trustful mind, 
 
 Leaving behind 
 The wondrous labyrinth through which I've 
 gone. 
 
 But not alone. 
 
 The rocks and briers I thought it hard to 
 meet. 
 
 Wounding my feet; 
 The burning plain where not a shadow lay 
 
 To break the way; 
 The dark, bewildering forest where no light 
 
 Could pierce the night; 
 And that green vale where flowers covered 
 fair 
 
 The hidden snare: — 
 
56 Onward Courageously, 
 
 Through all Thou leadest me, so weak, 
 
 And oft didst seek 
 To bring thy wandering child, so prone to 
 stray, 
 
 Back to the way. 
 
 Then teach and lead me, Lord, in Thine own 
 way, 
 
 From day to day — 
 In Thine own way through all my wander- 
 ings here, 
 
 So Thou be near; 
 In Thine own way to my dear home above 
 Of perfect love. 
 
 Onward Courageously. 
 
 Bend thee to action, nerve thee to duty! 
 
 Whate'er it may be, never despair! 
 God reigns on high ; pray to Him truly : 
 
 He will an answer give to thy prayer. 
 
Onward Courageously. 57 
 
 Shrinketh thyself from crosses before thee? 
 
 Art thou so made as to tremble and fear? 
 Confide in thy God : He will watch o'er thee ; 
 
 Humbly and trustingly, brother, draw near. 
 
 Clouds may be gathering, light may depart ; 
 Earth that thou treadest seem crumbling 
 away ; 
 New foes, new dangers, around thee may 
 start, 
 And spectres of evil tempt thee astray. 
 
 Onward courageously ! Nerved for the task. 
 Do all thy duty, and strength shall be 
 thine ; 
 Whate'er you want in humility ask : 
 
 Aid shall be given from a Source that's 
 Divine. 
 
 Do all thy duty, faithful and truly; 
 
 Trust in thy Maker: He's willing to save 
 Thee from all evil, and keep thee securely. 
 
 And make thee triumphant o'er death and 
 the grave. 
 
58 Praise Him. 
 
 Praise Him. 
 
 A cheerful spirit impressed with genuine Christian philos- 
 ophy inspired the following : 
 
 Joy and pain to all are given 
 
 In the cup of human life. 
 E'en as in the April heaven 
 
 Smiles and tears are still in strife. 
 Think not that alone thou weepest, 
 
 By some present grief oppressed ; 
 When in happy dreams thou sleepest, 
 
 Other sad hearts long for rest. 
 
 Happiness is all around thee 
 
 If thou seek for it aright; 
 Darkness should not so confound thee 
 
 That thou canst not find the light. 
 If the humblest floweret springeth 
 
 In the pathway thou dost tread, 
 Unto thee some joy it bringeth : 
 
 Catch its fragrance ere 'tis fled. 
 
 Sadly when thy spirit sigheth, 
 
 'Neath its weight of anguish bowed, 
 
The Golden Side. 59 
 
 And upon thy heart there lieth 
 The dark shadow of a cloud, 
 
 Look thou up in faith to heaven; 
 God will give thee strength to bear 
 
 All that unto thee is given 
 Of distress^ of grief, or care. 
 
 When thy cup o'erflows with gladness, 
 
 Lift thy thankful heart above ; 
 If oppressed with fear and sadness, 
 
 Trust thy heavenly Father's love. 
 Thou shalt know each hidden reason 
 
 When thine earthly work is done; 
 Praise Him, then, in every season. 
 
 For the shadow and the sun. 
 
 The Golden Side. 
 
 There is many a rest on the road of life 
 If we only would stop to take it, 
 
 And many a tone from the better land 
 If the querulous heart would wake it. 
 
6o The Golden Side. 
 
 To the sunny soul that is full of hope, 
 And whose beautiful trust ne'er faileth, 
 
 The grass is green and the flowers are bright, 
 Though the wintry storm prevaileth. 
 
 Better to hope though the clouds hang low, 
 
 And to keep the eyes still lifted, 
 For the sweet blue sky will soon peep through 
 
 When the ominous clouds are drifted. 
 There was never a night without a day; 
 
 Nor an evening without a morning; 
 And the darkest hour, the proverb goes, 
 
 Is the hour before the dawning. 
 
 There is many a gem in the path of life, 
 
 Which we pass in our idle pleasure. 
 That is richer far than the jewelled crown. 
 
 Or the miser's hoarded treasure. ' 
 
 It may be the love of a little child. 
 
 Or a mother's prayer to Heaven, 
 Or only a beggar's grateful thanks 
 
 For a cup of water given. 
 
 Better to weave in the web of life 
 A bright and golden filling, 
 
Lifes Golden Leaves. 6i 
 
 And do God's will with a ready heart 
 And hands that are swift and willing, 
 
 Than to snap the delicate silver threads 
 Of our curious lives asunder, 
 
 And then Heaven blame for the tangled ends, 
 And sit to grieve and wonder. 
 
 Life's Golden Leaves. 
 
 AN ALLEGORY. 
 
 Upon a violet-bank reclined 
 
 A childish maiden fair, 
 Who smiled to feel the evening breeze 
 
 Sport with her raven hair. 
 
 And while her lustrous eyes pursued 
 
 A bluebird in its flight, 
 They seemed the windows of a soul, 
 
 The home of love and light. 
 
 But wherefore rose she suddenly? 
 Why was her eager gaze 
 
62 Life's Golden Leaves, 
 
 So bent upon the distant wood 
 With unrepressed amaze? 
 
 'Tis true the sun was sinking fast, 
 While darker grew each glade, 
 
 But hers was not the heart to fear 
 The forest or its shade. 
 
 A stranger form emerged from thence, 
 
 And as he took his way 
 Toward where the startled damsel stood. 
 
 He beckoned her to stay. 
 
 No violence was in his mien, 
 
 Nor was his manner wild, 
 But gracefully he waved his hand 
 
 To soothe the gentle child. 
 
 An aged, reverend man he seemed, 
 
 In garb of antique style. 
 Of lands remote from where she dwelt 
 
 By many a weary mile. 
 
 A scythe across his back was thrown, 
 And in his wrinkled hand 
 
Lifes Golden Leaves, (i2i 
 
 He bore aloft an hour-glass 
 Full-charged with golden sand. 
 
 His silver locks streamed in the wind, 
 
 As with a steady tread 
 He walked to where the damsel stood, 
 
 In mingled doubt and dread. 
 
 The maiden gazed with rising awe 
 
 Upon that withered form. 
 Which mutely spoke of sultry suns 
 
 And many a winter's storm. 
 
 But when the old man's glance met hers. 
 
 He taught his lips to smile, 
 And sought by gentle looks and words 
 
 Her terror to beguile. 
 
 He said he had a precious gift 
 
 To yield unto her hand — 
 A book which she might read for years, 
 
 And seek to understand; 
 
 And when that tome had been perused, 
 The visit he'd renew. 
 
64 Lifes Golden Leaves. 
 
 And then display from out his store 
 Another to her view. 
 
 And saying this, his robe disclosed 
 A book, with diamond clasp, 
 
 Which tenderly he placed within 
 Her timid, doubtful grasp. 
 
 She knew not he had gone until 
 She heard him breathe *' Adieu !" 
 
 But when she turned to where he stood, 
 He was no more in view. 
 
 'Twas then the volume wide she ope'd, 
 
 And did each page unfold ; 
 But who can tell her wonder vast 
 
 To find the leaves were gold / 
 
 The title, traced in rainbow hues, 
 
 Her quick attention drew. 
 And that unto the mystic tome 
 
 Revealed a distant clue. 
 
 But yet at first it sounded strange, 
 And seemed, indeed, uncouth, 
 
Maidenhood, 65 
 
 That this dehghtful book should bear 
 No other name than Youth! 
 
 Maidenhood, 
 
 Sweet maiden, pausing by hfe's stream, 
 
 Amid the opening flowers, 
 Linger no longer in thy dream ; 
 
 Fast speed life's earnest hours. 
 
 In that unknown and strange To-be, 
 Which day by day creeps on. 
 
 There is a work hath need of thee. 
 And calls for thee alone. 
 
 With patient, loving heart go forth 
 
 To meet thy destined lot. 
 Trusting in Him who rules the earth; 
 
 Tarry nor falter not. 
 
 What can withstand thee if thy heart 
 
 Be steadfast to the truth? 
 To thee is given a blessed part 
 
 That will not pass with Youth — 
 
66 Maidenhood. 
 
 To walk unspotted through the world, 
 
 Doing thy Master's will, 
 While o'er thy head His love unfurled 
 
 Shall be thy banner still; 
 
 While thou shalt show how fair a thing 
 True womanhood should be — 
 
 No ideal, as poets sing. 
 Above humanity, 
 
 But, present in this world of ours 
 To soothe, sustain, and cheer; 
 
 Now stooping for the wayside flowers, 
 Now wiping Sorrow's tear, 
 
 Or sowing with undoubting hand 
 
 Seeds of a bloom sublime, 
 All broadcast, which will bless the land 
 
 When comes their harvest-time. 
 
 Then pass on to thy shining goal. 
 
 Yet pausing still to aid 
 Where a poor sin-sick, aching soul 
 
 Lingers beneath the shade. 
 
To the Bride, 67 
 
 A minister of good thou art, 
 
 Whose touch the world may move; 
 
 Then truly, nobly, do thy part, 
 In wisdom and in love. 
 
 To THE Bride. 
 
 Forth from thy father's hearth thou passest, 
 
 lovely bride, 
 Forth into new and smiling paths, leaving the 
 
 old and tried; 
 Leaving the dear familiar arms that have shel- 
 tered many years. 
 Forth on that path of womanhood checkered 
 
 by smiles and tears. 
 And a loving prayer goes with thee, from many 
 
 a faithful heart. 
 That God may keep thee still as bright, and 
 
 joyous as thou art; 
 And grant thee all the happiness that is good 
 
 for thee to know. 
 For never shines unshadowed sun upon these 
 
 paths below. 
 
6S A Memory. 
 
 From love to love still be thy steps, till at thy 
 
 life's calm even 
 Thou pass to the best love of all, thy home with 
 
 God in heaven. 
 
 A Memory. 
 
 One quiet eve some years ago, while linger- 
 ing by a stile 
 
 That ran along a wayside path to watch the 
 clouds a while. 
 
 Ere Thought had lifted from my heart the 
 shadoiv of her wing, 
 
 I saw a child, a little girl, returning from a 
 spring. 
 
 Her well-filled pitcher lightly pressed her curls 
 of silken hair. 
 
 Supported by a tiny hand, and she was very 
 fair ; 
 
 With something in her sunny face, pure as the 
 sky above, 
 
 And something in her gentle eyes, that guard- 
 ian angels love. 
 
A Memory. 69 
 
 A little fiower blossoming, a step or so aside, 
 
 This happy child of innocence with sudden 
 joy espied; 
 
 Then, letting down her pitcher with the same 
 sweet, joyous song, 
 
 She watered it half laughingly, then, gayly 
 tripped along. 
 
 The flower seemed to raise its head, bowed 
 by a summer sun. 
 
 And smile beneath the act which she uncon- 
 sciously had done ; 
 
 While wandering on with fairy tread, as mer- 
 ry as before, 
 
 I saw her pass the garden gate, then close 
 the cottage door. 
 
 Oh, often, when this little scene has crossed 
 my thoughts again, 
 
 I've wondered, if with all the love that warm- 
 ed her spirit then 
 
 This little girl has tripped through life as joy- 
 ous to the last, 
 
 Refreshing all the weary hearts that met her 
 as she passed — 
 
yo A Memory. 
 
 If with unconscious tenderness, her heart has 
 
 paused to bless 
 The poor amid their poverty, the sad in their 
 
 distress ; 
 Still following up God's teachings, day by day, 
 
 and hour by hour. 
 Foreshadowed in that simple scene, the water 
 
 and the flower. 
 
 If with a song as pure and sweet, that voice 
 
 has hushed to rest 
 The troubles of an aching heart, a sorrow- 
 laden breast; 
 If to the wayside wanderer, where'er her 
 
 steps have led, 
 The pitcher has been lowered ever kindly 
 
 from her head. 
 O holy, happy Charity ! how many pleasures lost 
 By those who have not known thee, had been 
 
 worthy of the cost ! 
 How many heads a blessing from a better 
 
 world have borne. 
 Whilst lowering the pitcher to the weary and 
 
 the worn ! 
 
A Picture, 71 
 
 Thou who hast stood beside God's spring of 
 
 blessings day by day 
 To fill the pitcher of thy wants and carry it 
 
 away, 
 The poor, and the dejected, whom God hath 
 
 willed to roam, 
 Are resting by the wayside, that leads thee 
 
 to thy home ! 
 Oh, let thy heart beat ever quick in actions 
 
 kind to be ; 
 Remember Him whose bounty has at all 
 
 times followed thee, 
 And deem it not a trouble, in the wayside, or 
 
 the town. 
 To linger where the weary are, and let the 
 
 pitcher down. 
 
 A Picture. 
 
 The farmer sat in his easy-chair 
 
 Smoking his pipe of clay. 
 While his hale old wife, with busy care, 
 
 Was clearing the dinner away ; 
 
7^ A Picture, 
 
 A sweet little girl with fine blue eyes 
 
 On her grandfather's knee was catching flies. 
 
 The old man laid his hand on her head 
 With a tear on his wrinkled face; 
 
 He thought how often her mother dead 
 Had sat in the self-same place. 
 
 As the tear stole down from his half-shut eye, 
 
 " Don't smoke," said the child, " for it makes 
 you cry." 
 
 The house-dog lay stretched out on the floor 
 Where the shade after noon used to steal ; 
 The busy old wife by the open door 
 
 Was turning the spinning-wheel; 
 And the old brass clock on the mantel-tree 
 ' Had plodded along to almost three. 
 
 Still the farmer sat in his easy-chair, 
 While close to his heaving breast 
 
 The moistened brow, and the cheek so fair 
 Of his sweet grandchild were pressed ; 
 
 His head bent down on her soft hair lay : 
 
 Fast asleep were they both, that summer 
 day. 
 
A Twilight Scene. 73 
 
 A Twilight Scene, 
 
 The twilight deepened round us. Still and 
 
 black 
 The great woods climbed the mountain at our 
 
 back, 
 And on their skirts, where yet the lingering 
 
 day 
 On the shorn greenness of the clearing lay, 
 The brown old farmhouse like a bird's nest 
 
 hung; 
 With home-like sounds the desert air was 
 
 stirred, 
 The bleat of sheep along the hill we heard, 
 The bucket splashing in the cool, sweet well, 
 The pasture-bars that clattered as they fell. 
 Dogs barked, fowls fluttered, cattle lowed ; the 
 
 gate 
 Of the barnyard creaked beneath the merry 
 
 weight 
 Of sun-brown children listening while they 
 
 swung 
 
74 Twilight. 
 
 The welcome sound of supper-call to hear ; 
 And down the shadowy lane, in tinkling clear, 
 The pastoral curfew of the cow-bell rung. 
 
 Twilight. 
 
 The sunset hues are fading fast 
 From the fair western sky away, 
 
 The floating clouds which gather round 
 Have vanished with their colors gay. 
 
 One star, one bright and quiet star, 
 Hangs out its steady light above, 
 
 Over the hushed and resting earth 
 Still watching like the eye of love. 
 
 It is the hour so loved by all 
 
 Whose thoughts ar^ lingering with the past, 
 For scenes and forms to memory dear 
 Gather around us dim and fast. 
 
 Childhood's bright hours, youth's short ro- 
 mance, 
 And older dreams of power and fame. 
 
Twilight. 75 
 
 Again come back to cheat the heart, 
 So changed by time, yet still the same. 
 
 The mingling tones of voices gone 
 
 Are breathing round us, sweet and low, 
 
 And eyes are beaming once again 
 That smiled upon us long ago. 
 
 We gaze upon those loving orbs. 
 Which never coldly turn away. 
 
 We clasp the hand and press the lip 
 Of forms that but in memory stay. 
 
 We feel the influence of a spell. 
 
 And wake to smiles or melt to tears, 
 
 As pass before the dreaming eye 
 The light and shade of other years. 
 
 Oh, pleasant is the dewy morn, 
 And golden noon is fair to see ; 
 
 But sweeter far the closing day, 
 Dearer the twilight hour, to me. 
 
76 A Sabbath at the Homestead, 
 
 A Sabbath at the Homestead. 
 
 Once again their annual circle had the round- 
 ed seasons run, 
 
 And the earth lay scorched and panting 'neath 
 a burning summer's sun ; 
 
 On the green slope of the meadow, near the 
 cool spring's mossy side, 
 
 Where the maple shadows lengthen, grazed 
 the cattle, sleepy-eyed. 
 
 From her green home in the tree-tops came 
 the robin's matin song. 
 
 And the murmur of the leaf-tongues mingled 
 with the insect throng; 
 
 All was dreamy, dewy, lovely, as another Sab- 
 bath came 
 
 Blushing through the eastern gateway, setting 
 sky and hill on flame. 
 
 On his porch, where vine-made shadows tinge 
 
 the oaken floor with green, 
 In his chair reclined the farmer, gazing on 
 
 the morning scene; 
 
A Sabbath at the Homestead, 77 
 
 With the closing of last evening had the clo- 
 ver turned to hay, 
 
 And upon the air its fragrance like a magic 
 presence lay: 
 
 To the wheatfields' golden billows, to the 
 
 corn-crops on the hill, 
 To the orchards' rosy promise, turned his 
 
 gladdened vision still. 
 By his side the oldest daughter tastefully the 
 
 linen spread, 
 Graced it with the cool, sweet butter, and the 
 
 white and spongy bread. 
 
 At his feet the youngest darling with a frisk- 
 ing kitten played. 
 
 Till a peal of silvery laughter echoed through 
 the garden shade : 
 
 Bluer than the brow of heaven was the bosom 
 of her eye, 
 
 And her gentle, fairy footsteps like a spirit 
 glided by. 
 
78 A Sabbath at the Homestead, 
 
 Book in hand, her manly brother sat beneath 
 
 the spreading tree: 
 Not so far had youth departed that he could 
 
 not share her glee; 
 And the patient mother fondly watched her 
 
 with a parent's pride : 
 She had come, the very image of the little 
 
 one that died. 
 
 Time may cool the burning fever of the soul 
 by anguish tossed, 
 
 But in all her bliss a mother "counts the trea- 
 sures she has lost; 
 
 Not a lambkin is forgotten : to her spirit they 
 are near, 
 
 And she numbers them in heaven as she 
 would if they were here. 
 
 When the social meal is finished and the 
 
 morning duties o'er, 
 Cleanly robed, the family gather in the wide 
 
 old porch once more ; 
 
- A Sabbath at the Hoinestead. 79 
 
 Then the father, calmly rising, takes the vol- 
 ume of his choice, 
 Slowly turns its pages, hallowed with a moth- 
 er's sainted voice, 
 
 Hands it to his blue-eyed daughter, and she 
 reads with gentle grace, 
 
 All the glow of pure devotion lighting up 
 her perfect face; 
 
 On her lip the touching story of the Sa- 
 viour's blameless death 
 
 Trembles like some blissful vision swaying in 
 a spirit breath. 
 
 Through the dimness of her vision rolls the 
 
 tear adown her cheek 
 As she hears that voice prophetic through the 
 
 buried ages speak : 
 Closer to her breast the mother clasps the 
 
 cherub on her knee 
 As she reads the Father's welcome, " Suffer 
 
 such to come to me." 
 
8o A Sabbath at the Homestead, 
 
 At the closing of the chapter silently the 
 
 farmer knelt, 
 And in fitting words of beauty poured the 
 
 thankfulness he felt: 
 "Father, thus far on our journey Thou hast 
 
 been our Shield and Stay; 
 Lend us still Thy light, and warm us, with 
 
 Thy trusting love alway. 
 
 " For the grainfields, ripe for harvest, waving 
 
 o'er the sunny land. 
 For the trees, the birds, and flowers, all the 
 
 green gifts of Thy hand. 
 Do we bless Thee; but, O Father! more of 
 
 gratitude we owe 
 For these tender human blossoms, that around 
 
 our footsteps grow. 
 
 *' Oh, we thank Thee for our children ! They 
 have turned our thoughts above ; 
 
 They have kindled holy fires on the altar of 
 our love. 
 
A Sabbath at the Homestead. 8i 
 
 Guide them by Thy wiser counsel : we are 
 
 weak and Thou art strong ; 
 Though we fondly call them ours, yet they 
 
 more to Thee belong. 
 
 "Seven times the giving angel hath brought 
 
 sunshine to our door; 
 Two that made our circle perfect, we were 
 
 summoned to restore, 
 And we gave them, Father, shedding tears of 
 
 sorrow on their dust : 
 Thou hast lent them for a season; we will 
 
 hold them but in trust. 
 
 " Not for us yon stately temple where the 
 
 heavenward steeples rise : 
 In this little church of home-love, we are 
 
 nearer to the skies; 
 Not for us the solemn organ swelling through 
 
 the vaulted dome : 
 Song of bird and children voices make the 
 
 music of our home ; 
 
82 A Sabbath at the Homestead, 
 
 '' Not for us the one day holy, set apart for 
 
 prayer and praise : 
 Six we give to labor, Father — all we number 
 
 as Thy days. 
 In those crowded aisles where thousands come 
 
 to swell the loud acclaim 
 We have often sought Thy presence, but have 
 
 only heard Thy name, 
 
 "So we listened to the promise, that where 
 
 ' there are two or three 
 Joined together in my service, there I gladly 
 
 too will be;' 
 And we know that Thou art with us, though 
 
 the world may coldly frown; 
 Even now within our spirits Thou art letting 
 
 heaven down. 
 
 *' Though the rulers in high places play the 
 
 tyrant and the knave, 
 Father, we will clothe the naked, we will help 
 
 the bleeding slave : 
 
A Sabbath at the Homestead: ^'y^ 
 
 Let them come ; our doors are open ; fines 
 
 and fetters we can bear; 
 Thou art with our suffering brother, and we 
 
 have not Thee to spare. 
 
 " Nerve us in the time of trial ; keep the 
 
 generous impulse warm ; 
 We have seen Thee in the sunshine : let us 
 
 know Thee in the storm." 
 Silently, on unseen pinions, did the noontide 
 
 come and go, 
 And along the sky of evening burned the 
 
 sunset's crimson glow; 
 
 Arm in arm, through flowering meadows, stroll- 
 ed the farmer and his wife, 
 
 Talking sweetly of the pleasures that had 
 crowned their wedded life ; 
 
 On the hillsides, white with daisies, never 
 weary of their play. 
 
 Sported still the youngest trio, heeding not 
 the close of day; 
 
84 A Sabbath at the Homestead, 
 
 While the brother, and the sister, stepping 
 
 into riper years. 
 Sat and wove a rosy garland of their future 
 
 hopes and fears. 
 "Twenty years to-night, dear Ellen," said the 
 
 farmer, speaking low. 
 As they paused beneath the willows, where 
 
 the singing waters flow, 
 
 " Did we pledge our love and promise to be 
 
 one till life's last day : 
 How that pledge has been remembered let 
 
 our darling children say. 
 Thievish Time may write his furrows on that 
 
 brow, once young and fair, 
 Dim thine eyelids, pale the roses, silver o'er 
 
 thy chestnut hair, 
 
 "Still the passion of the lover in this breast 
 
 shall glow for thee : 
 Thou wert dear that blessed evening: thou 
 
 art dearer now to me. 
 
A Sabbath at the Homestead. 85 
 
 Though I feel my youth departing, it is rest- 
 ing rich and warm, 
 
 And with softer grace and beauty, in our Ed- 
 ward's manly form; 
 
 "Though the blue orbs of the maiden Time 
 
 hath touched with deeper dyes, 
 Blue as then the river sparkles in thy Mary's 
 
 gentle eyes; 
 And I feel that what was stolen by the years 
 
 of toil and pain 
 In a more than tenfold measure has been 
 
 meted out again." 
 
 Supper over at the homestead, listen to the ' 
 
 vesper hymn, 
 As its swelling notes float upward, through 
 
 the twilight soft and dim ; 
 Outward, through the blue celestial, tread the 
 
 stars their jewelled way, 
 While in robes of gold, and purple, twilight 
 
 folds the weary day. 
 
86 The Old Family Cradle, 
 
 Still they sang old songs, and ballads, full of 
 sweetness, full of thought. 
 
 Till it seemed their human voices angel-mel- 
 ody had caught; 
 
 Placidly the eve sailed onward, o'er that sea 
 of inward light. 
 
 And the day of glorious dawning ended with 
 a sweet " Good-night." 
 
 Charmed beyond "a mortal's telling" the Re- 
 cording Angel stood. 
 
 Then upon the page unspotted traced the 
 simple record Good. 
 
 Instantly a thrill of pleasure ran throughout 
 that seraph band 
 
 As he closed his book and mounted with the 
 treasure in his hand. 
 
 The Old Family Cradle, 
 
 For years it had stood in my father's old hall, 
 A time-honored, love-serving friend to us all ; 
 
The Old Family Cradle. '^'] 
 
 A faithful old servant ! Ah ! who will e'er 
 
 know 
 How boundless a love its great heart could 
 
 bestow ? 
 It rocked away trouble, it dried every tear, 
 Assuaged every sorrow and calmed every fear. 
 No plumes waved aloft Hke a helmeted crest: 
 No ornaments hung from its homely recess; 
 No white satin curtains enfolded its bed, 
 Yet soft was the pillow where nestled each 
 
 head. 
 Ten little forms it had pillowed with care ; 
 Ten golden heads had slept peacefully there. 
 Death came at last; and though short was 
 
 his stay. 
 The cradle was empty for many a day : 
 Three little fledgelings had gone from the 
 
 nest 
 To be rocked by the angels in heaven to 
 
 rest. 
 Our mother in silence kissed meekly the rod, 
 And trustfully gave back these treasures to 
 
 God. 
 
88 The Old Family Cradle. 
 
 Years passed away, and the cradle no more 
 Echoed its chimes on the carpetless floor; 
 With rockers well worn and the paint turning 
 
 The cradle showed symptoms of wear and 
 
 decay. 
 Away to the attic this treasure was borne, 
 Weakened, but not of its usefulness shorn, 
 And there it is lying, far under the eaves, 
 'Mid the patter of rain and the rustling of 
 
 leaves. 
 Though covered with cobwebs and painted 
 
 with dust. 
 We treasure it still as a sacred trust : 
 Faithful and true in the course it has run, 
 We cherish it still for the good it has done ; 
 And though years may pass we shall ever re- 
 call 
 The cradle that stood in my father's old hall. 
 
Reconciled, 89 
 
 Reconciled. 
 
 O YEARS gone down into the past ! 
 
 What pleasant memories come to me 
 Of your untroubled days of peace 
 
 And hours of almost ecstasy ! 
 
 Yet would I have no moon stand still 
 Where life's most pleasant valleys lie, 
 
 Nor wheel the planet of the day 
 
 Back on his pathway through the sky. 
 
 For though, when youthful pleasures died, 
 My youth itself went with them too, 
 
 To-day — ay ! even this very hour — 
 Is the best hour I ever knew. 
 
 Not that my Father gives to me 
 
 More blessings than in days gone by. 
 
 Dropping in my uplifted hands 
 
 All things for which I blindly cry, 
 
 But that His plans and purposes 
 
 Have grown to me less strange and dim ; 
 
90 
 
 Reconciled. 
 
 And where I cannot understand, 
 I trust the issues unto Him. 
 
 And spite of many broken dreams, 
 This have I truly learned to say, 
 
 Prayers which I thought unanswered once, 
 Were answered in God's own best way. 
 
 And though some hopes I cherished once 
 Perished untimely in their birth, 
 
 Yet have I been beloved and blest 
 Beyond the measure of my worth. 
 
 And sometimes, in my hours of grief. 
 
 For moments I have come to stand 
 Where, in the sorrows on me laid, 
 
 I felt the chastening of God's hand. 
 
 Then learned I that the weakest ones 
 Are kept securest from life's harms, 
 
 And that the tender lambs alone 
 Are carried in the Shepherd's arms. 
 
Reconciled. 9 1 
 
 And sitting by the wayside blind, 
 
 He is the nearest to the Hght 
 Who crieth out most earnestly, 
 " Lord, that I might receive my sight !" 
 
 O feet grown weary as you walk ! 
 
 When down life's hill my pathway lies, 
 What care I, while my soul can mount 
 
 As the young eagle mounts the skies? 
 
 O eyes with weeping faded out! 
 
 What matters it how dim ye be? 
 My inner vision sweeps untired 
 
 The reaches of eternity. 
 
 O death, most dreaded power of all ! 
 
 When the last moment comes, and thou 
 Darkenest the windows of my soul. 
 
 Through which I look on nature now, 
 
 •fc>' 
 
 Yea, when mortality dissolves. 
 
 Shall I not meet thine hour unawed ? 
 
 My house eternal in the heavens 
 Is lighted by the smile of God. 
 
92 The Heart hioweth its Bitterness, 
 
 The Heart knoweth its own 
 Bitterness. 
 
 Tell not thy secret grief! 
 It may be that thy brother's heart can feel 
 Sorrow for suffering that thy words reveal, 
 
 And give thy heart relief; 
 But soon his ear will weary of a tale 
 Too oft repeated ; then of no avail 
 The lengthened story of thy secret ill ; 
 Bear on in silence, suffer and be still. 
 
 Yes, we must bear alone. 
 Hard lesson, this, for the young heart to learn 
 Seeking for sympathy in every turn. 
 
 In every friendly tone ; 
 But when the task is learned, although with 
 
 tears, 
 The heart gives up the hopes of early years; 
 Though anguish may its very life-cords wring, 
 Still gains it strength by its own suffering. 
 
Silence tmder Trials. 93 
 
 It is the common lot. 
 None know the hidden soul save Him whose 
 
 eye 
 Looks through each dark recess, for ever nigh, 
 
 Though we behold Him not. 
 Yes, it was by His own. His holy will 
 That wants too deep for human love to fill 
 Should to our thirsting spirits here be given. 
 That we the living stream might seek in heaven. 
 
 Silence under Trials. 
 
 When words or acts, untrue, unkind. 
 Against thy life like arrows fly, 
 
 Receive them with a patient mind; 
 Seek 7to revenge, make no reply. 
 
 Oh, holy Silence ! 'Tis the shield 
 
 More strong than warrior's twisted mail; 
 
 A hidden strength, a might concealed, 
 Which worldly shafts in vain assail. 
 
94 The Tempest-tossed, 
 
 He who is silent in his cause 
 
 Has left that cause to heavenly arms, 
 
 And Heaven's eternal aid and laws 
 
 Are swift to ward the threatening harms. 
 
 God is our great protecting power: 
 Be still! the great Defender moves; 
 
 He watches well the dangerous hour, 
 Nor fails to save the child He loves. 
 
 The Tempest-tossed. 
 
 A SIMILE. 
 
 There came a stately vessel 
 
 Careering o'er the deep, 
 Her helm unwatched, her pilot 
 
 Upon the deck asleep; 
 Her tall masts piled with canvas 
 
 Distended on the breeze. 
 And twilight's mazy shadows 
 
 Enclose the rippling seas. 
 
The Tempest-tossed, 95 
 
 But, lo ! a distant tempest 
 
 Rises darkly in the west, 
 And deep-toned muttered thunder, 
 
 Disturbing Nature's rest; 
 Yet still the pilot slumbers : 
 
 He sees not in his dream 
 The darkened brow of Neptune, 
 
 The lightning's lurid gleam. 
 
 On speeds the noble vessel 
 
 In the wind-god's fearful power. 
 No hand to furl her canvas. 
 
 To meet the trying hour; 
 She cleaves the mountain billow 
 
 Amid a foaming wreath, 
 Racked as the stricken giant 
 
 In the mighty throes of death. 
 
 Each sailor's eye grows dizzy; 
 
 His arm has lost its power. 
 Ah, Bacchus! woe the seamen 
 
 Who revel in thy bower! 
 
96 The Tempest-tossed, 
 
 At length the pilot wakens; 
 
 He hears the deafening roar; 
 The storm-lashed gleam of ocean 
 
 Reveals an iron shore. 
 
 He sees the good ship fated 
 
 As the martyr at the stake, 
 Destruction in her pathway, 
 
 The tempest in her wake; 
 E'en now she madly tosses 
 
 When the surf runs wild and high, 
 But the pilot watches calmly 
 
 With a seaman's practised eye. 
 
 He steals the favored moment 
 
 As the bark leaps down the wave, 
 Then, calm, yet firm and steady^ 
 
 The mighty impulse gave. 
 As when the whirlwind free. 
 
 In firm, terrific mood, 
 Grasps the towering tree 
 
 In the dark Brazilian wood. 
 
The Tempest 'tossed. 97 
 
 Thus writhes that queenly vessel 
 
 In the elemental strife, 
 But, faithful to her rudder, 
 
 She leaps from death to life ; 
 Beside the roaring breakers. 
 
 Her deck deluged with spray, 
 And every timber creaking. 
 
 She ploughs her fearful way. 
 
 Once more she rides the ocean, 
 
 A Naiad of the deep. 
 And wind and wave their vigils 
 
 In pensive silence keep : 
 Had not the pilot wakened, 
 
 Beneath the ocean wave 
 That vessel and her seamen 
 
 Had found a watery grave. 
 
 Thus on life's stormy ocean 
 
 The mind is tempest-tossed : 
 
 If the pilot, Reason, slumber, 
 
 The bark is idly lost. 
 7 
 
gS Waiting. 
 
 At times, when all is gladness, 
 And pleasure lights the eye, 
 
 A shade will gloom the spirit 
 As the tempest clouds the sky. 
 
 Waiting. 
 
 She is waiting, while the shadows lengthen 
 
 o'er the harvest-field, 
 Where long years of patient toil all their 
 
 ripened fruitage yield — 
 
 Waiting, till the solemn whisper thrills through 
 all the golden leaves, 
 
 " Daughter, come home !" For this she's wait- 
 ing all among the harvest sheaves. 
 
 Many years they toiled together, she and he 
 
 she loved so well. 
 Sowing all their seed together, watching it to 
 
 ripeness swell — 
 
Waiting. 99 
 
 Sowing seeds of love, and patience, each with 
 an unsparing hand, 
 
 Wheresoe'er the Master bade them scatter, 
 through the barren land. 
 
 In the morning's early glory, when their hearts 
 
 with hope beat high, 
 And all glittering with the dewdrops lay the 
 
 field before their eye. 
 When their mutual love was rosy with fond 
 
 youth's romantic glow, 
 Hand in hand close clasped together, forth 
 
 they passed the seed to sow. 
 
 As the day grew warm and heavy, with thg 
 
 noon's o'erwhelming heat 
 On they hastened, never staying to repose their 
 
 weary feet; 
 Hand in hand but clasped the closer for the 
 
 fiery trial near, 
 Side by side they trod together, sharing every 
 
 smile and tear. 
 
I oo Waiting, 
 
 Through the sunshine, through the shadow, 
 over flowers, over thorns, 
 
 By the graves of parted angels whom the 
 soul in secret mourns, 
 
 Hand in hand but closer folded, these two 
 faithful ones went on 
 
 Through the nodding sheaves of harvest, on- 
 ward to the setting sun. 
 
 But on one the Master, smiling in His great 
 
 love gently down 
 The slant rays, said very softly, " Come up 
 
 here to me, my son !" 
 And he left her lingering, "waiting," till the 
 
 summons comes again, 
 1*0 endure a little longer, all the loneliness, 
 
 the pain. 
 
 Blessed fate to whom the sunlight through the 
 
 gently-falling leaves 
 Shows the rich, abundant harvest and the 
 
 closely-garnered sheaves — 
 
Old Letters. loi 
 
 Who, ere yet to heaven passing, pauses for a 
 
 little while 
 To reflect on those about her somewhat of 
 
 God's loving smile. 
 
 Old Letters. 
 
 One hour among my treasures ! Oh, 'tis sweet 
 
 To turn a while from present cares, 
 
 And pass an hour amid these gems, 
 
 Which I have gathered in life's way 
 
 Since, in youth's bright morning, my little heart 
 
 First understood such words 
 
 As parting, absence, sorrow, and vain hope ; 
 
 Till noiv that I have gained the rugged steep 
 
 Of life's meridian, whence the earnest eye 
 
 Looks dozvn the path, which hath no bourne 
 
 Except the quiet grave. 
 
 Some^ whose pledges of a never-dying love 
 Perfume these faded leaflets of their souls, 
 Have gone down there to sleep, and I have 
 wept 
 
I02 Old Letters, 
 
 And counted them all lost, but 'tis not so, 
 
 The truthful breathings of their souls 
 
 Live in these little sheets, where, here and 
 
 there, 
 A tear warm from the heart 
 Lies where it fell, more precious than the 
 
 pearl 
 That's purchased with a kingdom. 
 
 Fresh and sweet 
 The leaves of the unwilted flower of truth 
 Are all before me. 
 
 Where are the hands that wrote these lines 
 So many years ago ? Where the eyes 
 That bent their beams along the rapid tra- 
 cery? 
 Where the hearts that throbbed with tenderness 
 Or trembled with emotion? 
 Years, and change, and death, can ye not an- 
 swer? 
 
 No reply. 
 Death, and change, and Time are silent spoil- 
 ers : 
 
Old Letters. 103 
 
 Yet none of these can touch the pure affec- 
 tions of -the soul, 
 
 That God has made immortal, 
 
 And which live for ever in these written 
 sheets. 
 
 Sing ! sing ye on, sweet faithful memories ! 
 
 'Tis sweet to dream 
 
 That those who led our infant feet in good 
 
 and pleasant ways ; 
 Who brought us, while our hearts were yet 
 
 untouched 
 By tJiis world's mildew, to a Saviour's feet ; 
 Who bore us in the arms of earnest prayer 
 Up to the throne of heaven ; 
 Who led the way, and left their footprints 
 All along the path of peace which leads to 
 
 God;— 
 'Tis sweet to dream that they are watching 
 
 with their loving eyes 
 Our struggles with the spirits that would lure 
 
 our faltering steps 
 To their enticincf bowers. 
 
I04 Old Letters. 
 
 Oh, 'tis good to lean upon them then, and 
 
 ask our hearts 
 If they approve our words and deeds. 
 
 Dear guardians of my childhood. 
 Ye are my guardians still ; 
 Your loving words of sweet encouragement, 
 Of kind advice, of earnest sympathy, of mild 
 
 reproof, 
 Of spiritual communion, — they are here 
 To aid, uphold, and solace, when most I am 
 
 in need; 
 They bring you very near, and ye point to 
 
 that far land 
 Where " living waters " flow, and joy-buds 
 
 bloom for ever. 
 
 **Your ever-loving mother"! 
 
 Blessed words, 
 
 Almost effaced with tears, which dim mine 
 eyes 
 
 Whene'er they rest upon that signature 
 
 Written by the hand which was my provi- 
 dence in infancy and childhood, 
 
Old Letters. 105 
 
 That directed first my young eyes unto hea- 
 ven ; 
 
 That led me forth among the glorious works 
 of Nature's God, 
 
 And, pointing to the pure and beautiful, 
 
 Taught me to love and worship : 
 
 That sustained my weakness with unwearied 
 tenderness ; 
 
 That made my bed in sickness, lifted up my 
 aching head. 
 
 And held to my hot lips the cup of heal- 
 ing; 
 
 Who has done for me that which no other 
 hand has done — 
 
 That which no other hand on earth can do. 
 
 My loving mother, thou art far away ; 
 
 I may not clasp thy hand or hear thy voice, 
 
 But I can read these letters. 
 
 Mother, dear mother! though we dwell apart. 
 
 Thy loving words are with me evermore ; 
 
 I cannot recompense thy love. 
 
 But thy reward is sure, for thou hast done 
 thy duty well. 
 
io6 Old Letters. 
 
 And we rise up and call thee blessed, 
 While the Lord -will give thy pious cares and 
 labors rich reward. 
 
 My brother and my sister! 
 These are yours, 
 And they are fragrant with the love which 
 
 hath its source 
 At the one spring of human tenderness. 
 Oh, 'tis sweet to taste again this love, 
 Until the heart goes back to that most holy 
 
 refuge this side heaven. 
 Our father's house ! 
 Oh, sweet the echoes come from that dear 
 
 sanctuary ! 
 How pleasantly they touch my heartstrings noiv. 
 To melting music mellowed down by Time 
 
 to plaintive sweetness ! 
 
 Oh, Long-ago! Those days are gone; 
 
 And we are scattered like the leaves of some 
 
 fair rose 
 That fall off one by one upon the breeze, 
 Which bears them where it listcth ; 
 
Old Lettei^s, 107 
 
 Nevermore can they be gathered and become 
 a rose, 
 
 And we can be united nevermore, 
 
 A family on earth. 
 
 However carelessly 
 
 Or thoughtfully we touch the string that cho- 
 ruses 
 
 The music of the past, it answers still, 
 
 " No more !" 
 
 But adieu, 
 Sweet treasures ! 
 
 The cares of life, a stern and clamorous throng, 
 Are waking now. Go to your sanctuary 
 Till again I seek your kind communing and 
 
 soft balm. 
 Which soothe my heart into a meek and grate- 
 ful frame. 
 Which sits down patiently at Jesus' feet. 
 
1 08 Thoughts of Age, 
 
 Thoughts of Age. 
 
 Shall old age come upon me ? Shall my eye 
 
 Grow dim and weak, and tremulous my hand ? 
 Shall the glad music of my spirit die 
 
 Before I pass into the spirit-land ? 
 Shall I forget the songs I love to sing 
 
 Nor heed the beauties of this lovely world ? 
 Shall many a bright and pleasant thing 
 
 Grow charmless ? When the wing of youth 
 is furled, 
 Shall I grow weary of my home below 
 
 And be for ever longing to depart ? 
 And shall the lines that deepen on my brow 
 
 Be but the shadows of a changed heart ? 
 All may be so! I cannot know my lot: 
 
 It may be age, and weariness, and care; 
 But oh, I trust that Memory may not 
 
 Prove traitor to her trust, for she doth bear 
 The golden key that only can undo 
 
 The treasure-house of thought. If that be 
 lost. 
 
Thoughts of Age, 109 
 
 Old age indeed is desolate, and few 
 
 The joys by which its way is crossed. 
 And there are memories I would retain 
 
 E'en when the hand of Time hath marked 
 my face, 
 And scenes which I in thought would view 
 again 
 When far removed from hours of youth may 
 be my dwelling-place. 
 But why thus muse upon the time to come ? 
 Why dream of drooping age with furrowed 
 brow ? 
 May not the young flower wither in its bloom, 
 
 The seeds of death be planted even now ? 
 Who knoweth if this frail frame may withstand 
 The chilling blights and storms of many 
 years ? 
 If it be so, one simple prayer be mine : 
 
 If life's young blossom wither ere its noon, 
 Be mine the holy trust and love divine 
 Which maketh early death a blessed boon. 
 
1 1 o Love the Old, 
 
 Love the Old. 
 
 I LOVE the old — to lean beside 
 
 The antique easy-chair, 
 And pass my fingers softly o'er 
 
 A wreath of silvered hair; 
 To press my glowing lips upon 
 
 The furrowed brow, and gaze 
 Within the sunken eye where dwells 
 
 The " light of other days ;" 
 
 To fold the pale and feeble hand 
 
 That on my youthful head 
 Has laid so tenderly the while 
 
 The evening prayer was said ; 
 To nestle down close to the heart, 
 
 And marvel how it held 
 Such tomes of legendary lore, 
 
 The chronicles of eld. 
 
 O youth ! tlwit hast so miicJi of joy, 
 So much of life and love. 
 
 So many hopes ; age has but one — 
 The hope of bliss above. 
 
Love the Old. 1 1 1 
 
 Then turn awhile from these away 
 
 To cheer the old, and bless 
 The wasted heart-spring, with a stream 
 
 Of gushing tenderness. 
 
 Thou treadeth now a path of bloom, 
 
 And thy exulting soul 
 Springs proudly on, as though it mocked 
 
 At times unfelt control. 
 But tJiey have marched a weary way 
 
 Upon a thorny road; 
 Then soothe the toil-worn spirits, ere 
 
 They pass away to God. 
 
 Yes, love the aged ; bow before 
 
 The venerable form 
 So soon to seek beyond the sky 
 
 A shelter, from the storm ; 
 Ay, love them ; let thy silent heart 
 
 With reverence unfold ; 
 As pilgrims very near to heaven 
 
 Regard and love the old. 
 
1 1 2 My Good Old-fashioned Mother, 
 Mother. 
 
 They tell us of an Indian tree 
 
 Which howsoe'er the sun and sky 
 May tempt its boughs to wander free, 
 
 And shoot, and blossom, wide and high, 
 Far better loves to bend its arms 
 
 Downward again, to that dear earth 
 From which the life that fills, and warms 
 
 Its grateful being, first had birth. 
 
 'Tis thus, though wooed by flattering friends, 
 And fed with fame (if fame it be), 
 
 This heart, my own dear mother, bends 
 With love's true instinct back to thee. 
 
 My Good Old-fashioned Mother. 
 
 They brought home the portrait last night to 
 me ; 
 
 On the parlor wall it is hung : 
 I gave to the artist a picture small, 
 
 Which was taken when she was young ; 
 
My Good Old-fashioned Mother. 1 1 3 
 
 It is true to life, with a look in the eyes 
 
 I never saw in another, 
 And the same sweet smile she always wore : 
 
 'Tis my good old-fashioned mother. 
 
 The hair in the picture is wavy and dark : 
 
 'Twas taken before she was gray; 
 And the same short curls at the side hang down, 
 
 For she always wore it that way. 
 Her hand on the Bible easily rests, 
 
 As when, with sisters, and brother, 
 I knelt at her knee reciting my verse 
 
 To my good old-fashioned mother. 
 
 Her dress is plain, and quite out of style ; 
 
 Not a puff, or a ruffle is there ; 
 And no jewels or gold glitter and shine : 
 
 She never had any to wear. 
 Ambition for wealth, or love of display 
 
 We could not even discover, 
 For " poor in spirit " and " humble in heart " 
 
 Was my good old-fashioned mother. 
 
 Her life was crowned with work, and with care ; 
 How did she accomplish it all ? 
 
1 1 4 My Mothers Face. 
 
 I do not remember she ever complained, 
 And yet she was slender, and small. 
 
 Motives of life that were selfish and wrong 
 With Christian grace did she smother. 
 
 And lived for her God, the loved ones at home, 
 My good old-fashioned mother. 
 
 The years of her life were only threescore 
 
 When the messenger whispered low, 
 " The Master hath come, and calleth for thee ;" 
 
 She answered, *' I am ready to go." 
 I gaze alone on her portrait to-night, 
 
 And more than ever I love her. 
 And thank the Lord that He gave to me 
 
 Such a good old-fashioned mother. 
 
 My Mother's Face. 
 
 There's a face more beautiful far to me 
 Than the fairest of fair ones ever can be. 
 Be it perfect and true with its lines of grace. 
 Be it man's or maiden's, or sweet child-face. 
 
My Mother's Face. 1 1 5 
 
 Once it was lovely, and young, and fair, 
 Crowned by tresses of soft brown hair, 
 And the happy soul, with its changing light, 
 Looked from her hazel eyes, tender and bright. 
 
 Once the high brow was as white as the 
 
 snows. 
 And the soft cheek flushed with the daintiest 
 
 rose, 
 And many a suitor has tried in vain 
 A smile from those ruby lips to gain. 
 
 But Time, with his paints and brushes 7iozu 
 Has tinted with amber the chin, and brow; 
 The hair has forgotten its sunny glow, 
 And shows 'mid its meshes, long lines of 
 snow. 
 
 Dark care and sorrow, with toil and pain. 
 Rough hands on the beautiful face have lain, 
 And tears that came as death drew nigh 
 Have tarnished the rose and dimmed the eye. 
 
 Yet / love it, and think it is more than fair. 
 For faith, hope, love and truth are there : 
 
ii6 My Mother's Face, 
 
 When, fevered and helpless, long weeks I've 
 
 lain. 
 It has cheered and hallowed my bed of pain, 
 
 Has soothed and banished my childish fears, 
 Has laughed with my laughing, and wept with 
 
 my tears; 
 With its look of patience in pain and loss, 
 It has taught me patient to bear my cross. 
 
 Loved because chastened, each stroke to take 
 Cheerfully, bravely, for Jesus* sake ; 
 Oh, lovelier far than the fairest can be 
 Is my mother's loving face to me. 
 
 Ah ! my poor heart shrinks, and the hot tears 
 
 fall 
 As I think of the time, that must come to all, 
 When the waving grass, and the daisies bright 
 May hide her dear face from my longing 
 
 sight ; 
 
 Though perhaps my Father, in His merciful 
 
 love, '' 
 
 Will take me first to my home above; 
 
My Mother, 117 
 
 Then by the gates of the golden street 
 
 I will wait for the sound of her coming feet. 
 
 I will lean o'er the portal of heaven, to see 
 If up through the starlight she's coming to 
 
 me. 
 But, if in His wisdom He calls her now, 
 Placing Death's seal on her placid brow, 
 
 I know, when the years of her life are passed, 
 And my tired soul enters her home at last. 
 That close by the throne of heavenly grace 
 I shall see in its beauty my mother's face. 
 
 My Mother. 
 
 Time's tide hath borne me far away 
 
 From the green banks my childhood knew, 
 
 Hath mingled with my locks the gray. 
 And from life's roses dashed the dew, 
 
 But hath not quenched the faintest trace 
 Of memories which my heart beguile, 
 
 Nor from my soul can Time efface 
 
 My mother's smile. 
 
ii8 My Mother. 
 
 In childhood's gay and gladsome hour, 
 Blithe as a bird in sunny ray, 
 
 I gayly roved from flower to flower, 
 
 And deemed life one long summer day; 
 
 But one deep joy, remembered now. 
 Then filled my heart with purest bliss : 
 
 It thrills as erst on cheek and brow — 
 My mother's kiss. 
 
 Whene'er my wayward footsteps turned 
 From paths of rectitude astray. 
 
 Or my young heart with anger burned, 
 Forgetful of the better way, 
 
 I might have spurned the harsh rebuke. 
 From words of counsel turned my ear. 
 
 But not a moment could I brook 
 
 My mother's tear. 
 
 Old Time with me hath kindly dealt. 
 And spared full many a treasure, 
 
 And scattered blessings not unfelt 
 With overflowing measure; 
 
Oin^ MotJie7\ 119 
 
 And one like tone of vesper bell 
 
 Still lingers, viewless, on the air, 
 And haunts me like a holy spell — 
 
 My mother's prayer. 
 
 Our Mother. 
 
 We miss thee, O our Mother dear! 
 
 And yet how much we cannot say, 
 For since thy voice no more we hear, 
 
 A gloom around our hearthstone lay; 
 For now, when evening shades appear, 
 
 And we in social circle meet. 
 Our eyes fill up with many a tear 
 
 To see thy loved yet vacant seat. 
 Alas ! it looks so sad and lone, 
 And tells us. Mother, thou art gone. 
 
 I think I see thy placid smile, 
 
 As when we once beheld thee there, 
 
 So patient, knitting all the while. 
 And chatting, in that old arm-cliair. 
 
I20 Oitr AIolhc7\ 
 
 Each gentle look thou gavest then 
 Is treasured in fond memory deep, 
 
 For there are sacred moments when 
 I love to think of thee and weep ; 
 
 For all is dreary now, and lone. 
 
 And tells us, Mother, thou art gone. 
 
 How oft affection calls to mind, 
 
 When pain and sickness venture near, 
 Thy tender, soothing accents kind. 
 
 Which strove our drooping hearts to cheer! 
 Thy hand touched light our fevered brow 
 
 And smoothed the pillow with such care ! 
 Alas ! alas ! 'tis not so now 
 
 When we the pangs of suffering bear. 
 Nay, nay! all now is dread and lone. 
 And tells us, Mother, thou art gone. 
 
 How oft, when silence reigns around 
 
 And dreamy thoughts come looming o'er, 
 
 We almost think we hear the sound 
 Of thy dear footstep on the floor! 
 
Grandmother s Sermon. 1 2 1 
 
 For still it seems it cannot be 
 
 That thou must absent e'er remain ; 
 
 We fain look fondly round for thee, 
 And list to hear thy voice again. 
 
 But no — ah, no ! We are alone. 
 
 And feel, dear Mother, thou art gone. 
 
 GRANDMOTHER'S SeRMON. 
 
 The supper is over, the hearth is swept. 
 
 And in the wood-fire's glow 
 The children cluster to hear a tale 
 
 Of that time, so long ago, 
 
 When grandma's hair was golden-brown. 
 And the warm blood came and went 
 
 O'er the face that was scarcely sweeter then 
 Than now, in its rich content. 
 
 The face is wrinkled and careworn now, 
 
 And the golden hair is gray; 
 But the light that shone in the young girl's eyes 
 
 Has never gone away; 
 
122 Grandmothers Sermon. 
 
 And her needles catch the fire's bright hght 
 
 As in and out they go. 
 With the cHcking music that grandma loves, 
 
 Shaping the stocking toe. 
 
 And the waiting children love it too, 
 For they know the stocking song 
 
 Brings many a tale to grandma's mind 
 Which they shall hear ere long. 
 
 But it brings no story of the olden time 
 
 To grandma's heart to-night; 
 Only a sermon, quaint and short, 
 
 Is sung by the needles bright. 
 
 " Life is a stocking," grandma says, 
 
 "And yours is just begun; 
 But I am knitting the toe of mine, 
 
 And my work is almost done. 
 
 " With merry hearts we begin to knit, 
 And the ribbing is almost play ; 
 
Grandmother's Se7^mon. i 
 
 Some are gay-colored, and some are white, 
 
 And some are ashen gray. 
 But most are made of many a hue, 
 
 With many a stitch set wrong, 
 And many a row to be sadly ripped 
 
 Ere the whole is fair and strong. 
 
 " There are long plain spaces without a break 
 That in youth are hard to bear ; 
 
 And many a weary tear is dropped 
 As we fashion the heel with care. 
 
 " But the saddest, happiest time is that 
 Which we court, and yet would shun, 
 
 When our heavenly Father breaks the thread, 
 And says that, our w^ork is done." 
 
 The children come to say good-night 
 With tears in their bright young eyes, 
 
 While in grandma's lap, with a broken thread. 
 The finished stocking lies. 
 
124 Coining, 
 
 Coming. 
 
 What I say unto you I say unto all, Watch. — Mark xiii. 
 
 21- 
 
 At even, or at midnight, or at the cock-crowing, or in 
 the morning. 
 
 " It may be in the evening", 
 
 When the work of the day is done, 
 And you have time to sit in the twilight 
 
 And watch the sinking sun. 
 While the long bright day dies slowly 
 
 Over the sea, 
 And the hour grows quiet and holy 
 
 With thoughts of me. 
 While you hear the village children 
 
 Passing along the street. 
 Among those thronging footsteps 
 
 May come the sound of my feet. 
 Therefore I tell you, Watch 
 
 By the light of the evening star, 
 When the room is growing dusky 
 
 As the clouds afar: 
 
Coming. 12S 
 
 Let the door be on the latch 
 
 In your home, 
 For it may be through the gloaming 
 
 I will come. 
 
 •' It may be when the midnight 
 
 Is heavy upon the land, 
 And the black waves lying dumbly 
 
 Along the sand; 
 When the moonless night draws close 
 And the lights are out in the house; 
 
 When the fires burn low and red 
 And the watch is ticking loudly 
 
 Beside the bed; 
 Though you sleep, tired out, on your couch, 
 Still your heart must wake and watch 
 
 In the dark room. 
 For it may be that at midnight 
 
 I will come. 
 
 'It may be at the cock-crow, 
 When the night is dying slowly 
 
 In the sky, 
 And the sea looks calm and holy, 
 
126 Commg. 
 
 Waiting for the dawn of the golden sun, 
 
 Which draweth nigh ; 
 When the mists are on the valleys, shading 
 
 The rivers chill, 
 And my morning star is fading, fading. 
 
 Over the hill. 
 Behold, I say unto you, Watch ! 
 Let the door be on the latch 
 
 In your home; 
 In the chill before the dawning, 
 Between the night and morning, 
 
 I mav come. 
 
 *' It may be in the morning, 
 When the sun is bright and strong, 
 And the dew is glittering sharply 
 
 Over the little lawn ; 
 When the waves are laughing loudly 
 
 Along the shore, 
 And the little birds are singing sweetly 
 
 About the door. 
 With the long day's work before you, 
 
 You rise up with the sun, 
 
Coming. 1 2 7 
 
 And the neighbors come in to talk a httle 
 
 Of all that must be done; 
 But remember that I may be the next 
 
 To come in at the door, 
 To call you from all your busy work 
 
 For evermore. 
 As you work your heart must watch, 
 For the door is on the latch 
 
 In your room, 
 And it may be in the morning 
 
 I will come." 
 
 So He passed down my cottage garden 
 By the path that leads to the sea, 
 
 Till He came to the turn of the little road. 
 Where the birch and laburnum tree 
 
 Lean over and arch the way. 
 
 There I saw Him a moment stay 
 And turn once more to me 
 As I wept at the cottage door. 
 
 And lift up his hands in blessing ; 
 Then I saw His face no more. 
 
128 Coming. 
 
 And I stood still in the doorway, 
 
 Leaning against the wall, 
 Not heeding the fair white roses, 
 
 Thouo^h I crushed them and let them 
 fall, 
 Only looking down the pathway. 
 
 And looking toward the sea. 
 And wondering and wondering 
 
 When He would come back for me. 
 Till I was aware of an angel 
 
 Who was going swiftly by 
 With the gladness of one who goeth 
 
 In the light of God most high. 
 He passed the end of the cottage, 
 
 Toward the garden gate 
 (I suppose he was come down 
 At the setting of the sun 
 To comfort some one in the village 
 
 Whose dwelling was desolate), 
 And he passed before the door 
 
 Beside my place. 
 And the likeness of a smile 
 
 Was on his face. 
 
Coming, 1 29 
 
 "Weep not," he said, "for unto you is given 
 To watch for the coming of His feet 
 Who is the glory of our blessed heaven ; 
 The work and watching will be very sweet, 
 Even in an earthly home, 
 And in such an hour as ye think not 
 He will come." 
 
 So I am watching quietly 
 
 Every day; 
 Whenever the sun shines brightly, 
 
 I rise and say, 
 " Surely it is the shining of His face !" 
 And look unto the gates of His high place 
 
 Beyond the sea, 
 For I know He is coming shortly 
 
 To summon me. 
 And when a shadow falls across the window 
 
 Of my room. 
 Where I am working my appointed task, 
 I lift my head to watch the door and ask 
 
 If He is come ; 
 And the angel answers sweetly 
 
 In my home. 
 
1 30 The Stmset of Life. 
 
 " Only a few more shadows, 
 And He will come." 
 
 T//E Sunset of Life. 
 
 Evening crept along the valley, 
 
 Blushed upon the distant hill. 
 And the golden hush of sunset 
 
 Fell so sweetly and so still 
 That the meadow, and the mountain. 
 
 And the ocean's heaving breast, 
 Seemed to bathe themselves in sunlight 
 
 From the windows of the west. 
 
 Parting gleams, so gay and golden, 
 
 Streamed across the white and blue, 
 Till the clouds 'mid azure heaven 
 
 Melted in the blushing hue. 
 And it fell, that golden glory, 
 
 On the ripples of the sea. 
 Dancing, dazzling, ever wreathing 
 
 Smiles so glorious and free. 
 
The Sunset of Life, i 
 
 And the struggling of the sunshine, 
 
 Straying through the hfting trees, 
 Smiled upon a leaf-hid cottage 
 
 Opened to invite the breeze ; 
 And two wavy, glimmering sunbeams, 
 
 Meeting in the open door, 
 One from heaven and one from ocean, 
 
 Lit the ceiling and the floor. 
 
 In the meeting of the sunlight, 
 
 Where its glory kissed his brow. 
 Sat an old man on the threshold, 
 
 Thinking of bygone and now ; 
 On his staff his hands were folded. 
 
 And he rested there his chin. 
 While his face, with sweet expression, 
 
 Told the peace that reigned within. 
 
 Still he sat, intently gazing. 
 
 Through the aisles of arching green. 
 Out upon the glorious vista 
 
 In the mellow distance seen. 
 Listening to the murmuring music 
 
 Of the wind and gentle waves. 
 
1 3 2 The Simset of Life. 
 
 Like approving ages calling 
 
 To the present from their graves. 
 
 Years of labor lent their voices 
 
 To the harmony within, 
 Deeds of love and duty chiming 
 
 With a conscience void of sin — 
 Heavenly sounds of holy grandeur, 
 
 Such as earth's may never be, 
 Heard he as he sat there gazing 
 
 Out upon the sun and sea. 
 
 And the sun went sinking downward, 
 
 And his soul rose nearer home, 
 Drinking deep of healing waters 
 
 Flowing from the heavenly dome; 
 Then the holy star of twilight. 
 
 Flinging dews upon the air. 
 Throned itself upon the sunset 
 
 Like a spirit reigning there. 
 
 As the star, with light unbroken, 
 Gazed into his raptured eyes, 
 
The Sunset of Life. 133 
 
 With its pencil-beams descending 
 Came a message from the skies, 
 
 And the angels' gentle voicings, 
 Stealing sweetly from above, 
 
 Drew his soul still up and heavenward 
 On the wings of light and love. 
 
 Then the sun beyond the ocean 
 
 Gathered in his rays to rest, 
 As a noble chief in falling 
 
 Folds his honors to his breast; 
 Outward sense and scenes were fading 
 
 With the sinking of the sun, 
 But, within, those angel-voices 
 
 Spoke eternal day begun. 
 
 Fading lights, still failing, dying. 
 
 Gilt the edges of the cloud. 
 Till the moonbeams fell upon them ; 
 
 Like the stillness of a shroud. 
 And the tints grew gray and leaden 
 
 As the flushing followed down 
 Where the sun, when in the heaven. 
 
 Last had worn his golden crown. 
 
134 ^^^^ Sunset of Life. 
 
 As the moonlight softly slumbered 
 
 Where was once the sunbeams' fall, 
 Round the old man closed the shadows 
 
 With their dark and deepening pall, 
 Still upon his staff he rested 
 
 With his weary, wintry head; 
 Gone was all the golden glory, 
 
 Day was done — the old man dead. 
 
 Who shall say how pure a vision 
 
 Rests upon that spirit's eyes, 
 Changing sunshine into soul-light, 
 
 Faded to unfading skies? 
 Who can know how sweet that sunset, 
 
 Shadowing forth the gates of gold. 
 Which unto his soul unfolded 
 
 Heaven to earth, is yet untold. 
 
The Spirit of Consolation. 135 
 
 The Spirit of Consolation. 
 
 Where dost thou dwell, O spirit whom my 
 heart 
 Yearns for, and knows, through Nature's 
 
 varying voice ? 
 Where is the region favored by thy choice ? 
 I've watched the ocean-billows sink and swell 
 Beneath eve's tender hues, and the stars rise 
 
 In quiet beauty through the evening air ; 
 Searching for thee, I've sought the sea and skies : 
 Thou wert not there. 
 
 Fve h'stened for thee in the awful tone 
 
 Of wind-swayed pines, that mock the angry 
 
 sea; 
 At the first chirp of birds I've watched for 
 thee ; 
 While the day dawned, above the hills alone 
 I marked the folds of mist creep slowly up, 
 While higher still the glorious sun arose, 
 Drinking the sparkling dew-drops from the cup 
 Of buddinsf rose. 
 
136 The Spirit of Consolation. 
 
 Where dost thou dwell ? No vision like to thine, 
 So glorious, so terrible in might, 
 Has ever beamed upon my mental sight: 
 There have been times when clouds were in 
 my sky, 
 And I have wept through sleepless hours 
 of night. 
 When, tender spirit ! thou hast brooded nigh, 
 Unseen of sight. 
 
 Then, in the awfulness and love that spread 
 O'er my sad soul, drawing from earth away 
 To purer realms, I felt thy mighty sway 
 
 As the fair moon draws upward from his bed 
 
 The ocean tide. Such hours have a peace 
 The garish blaze of joy has never knov/n ; 
 
 Beneath thy voice earth's ruder clamors cease. 
 Thou, and the soul alone. 
 
II. 
 
 FRIENDSHIP, 
 
FRIENDSHIP 
 
 To MY Friends. 
 
 Friends of mine, beloved, and cherished, 
 Ye have been with me to-day, 
 
 And the golden light of memory 
 Softly on your faces lay; 
 
 And for your pleasure, gathered here 
 
 Are the thoughts of many a year. 
 
 And as ye turn the pages over, 
 
 Wheresoever you may be. 
 Let your thoughts with tender kindness 
 
 Turn a little unto me. 
 While we think of days of yore 
 And our friends who've gone before. 
 
 139 
 
1 40 Friendship. 
 
 Friends of mine, not lightly chosen, 
 Ye have been with me to-day, 
 
 And I bless your treasured memories, 
 That have smoothed life's rugged way; 
 
 For amid earth's dearest things 
 
 Is surely Love, without his wings. 
 
 Friendship. 
 
 There is a Sunbeam, beautifully shining 
 Through dark clouds, with care and sorrow 
 rife ; 
 
 There is a Rose-wreath, delicately twining 
 Among the brambles, in the path of life. 
 
 There is a sweet bird, exquisitely singing, t 
 Albeit rude thorns upon her bosom press ; 
 
 There is a fountain, musically springing 
 From the cold rocks of life's wilderness. 
 
 There is a fair orb to this world pertaining, 
 Which strives full meekly with the gloom 
 of night. 
 
Friendship, 141 
 
 But all its beauty, all its radiance, gaining 
 From the great Source of universal light. 
 
 Is it not Friendship, that delightful feeling 
 All human griefs, all human joys, abov^e? 
 
 But mostWts purest, tenderest charms revealing 
 When stamped and softened with the form 
 of Love. 
 
 Oh, 'tis the Sunbeam, mercifully lighting 
 Hope's glorious rainbow, on the clouds of 
 woe; 
 'Tis the sweet Rose-wreath, the tired eye in- 
 viting, 
 That hides the harshness of the thorn be- 
 low. 
 
 'Tis the sweet bird, her cheering aid bestow- 
 ing 
 On others' griefs, unmindful of her own; 
 'Tis the clear streamlet, in the desert flowing, 
 That springs most purely, from the hardest 
 stone. 
 
142 Gra?tt me, O God, a Star to be. 
 
 Tis the bright planet, whose benign attend- 
 ance 
 Doth half our darkness, and our fears re- 
 move. 
 But borrows att its beautiful resplendence 
 From the high essence of a God .of Love. 
 
 Grant me, O God, a Star to be. 
 
 Grant me O God, a little star to be. 
 
 Calm, still, and bright, to trace my way in 
 Heaven ; 
 And shed my light o'er life's tempestuous sea, 
 Where human hearts like fragile barks are 
 driven 
 'Mid rocks and hidden shoals; 
 A soul, 'mid glorious souls; 
 
 A small bright star, within the glittering band, 
 That high above the clouds, undimmed and 
 grand. 
 In placid beauty rolls 
 
 To herald on the weary, to the land 
 
To my Friends, 143 
 
 Where all is rest, and peace; to guide the 
 
 way 
 To Heaven's unclouded day. 
 
 To MY Friends. 
 
 I WOULD not stay for ever here, 
 
 In a world of care and pain ; 
 I would not have life linger on. 
 
 Or give my thoughts to earth again. 
 I long to close my tearful eyes, 
 
 And rest my weary, aching head 
 Upon the couch, where all is peace 
 
 And stillness, with the early dead. 
 
 / do not fear to look on Death, 
 
 From whose approach no power can save; 
 No serpent sting is in his grasp. 
 
 Nor disappointment in the grave. 
 How sweet to sleep on some green bank 
 
 Where summer breezes gently blow. 
 The deep and glad blue sky above, 
 
 And graceful fcrn-lcavcs wave below / 
 
144 ^^^^ ^^^y Burden, 
 
 And if some gentle step should come 
 
 With fern-leaves in the morning hours, 
 Oh, welcome would the offering be, 
 
 For I have dearly loved these flowers. 
 Perchance my spirit, freed from pain^ 
 
 Might linger round the verdant tomb 
 To bless the loving hand that gave. 
 
 And borrow pleasure from their bloom. 
 
 The stars will shine when I am gone 
 
 As they have ever shone before, 
 And other eyes will meet their beams 
 
 When / shall wake, and watch, no more. 
 Oh, beautiful upon the grave 
 
 The starlight, and the moonbeams lie, 
 With such sweet watchers o'er our sleep. 
 
 Why, should we ever fear to die? 
 
 Cast thy Burden. 
 
 " Cast thy burden upon the Lord, and He will sustain thee." 
 
 Hast thou a care, whose pressure dread 
 Expels sweet comfort from thy bed? 
 
Question Not, 145 
 
 To thy Redeemer take that care, 
 And change anxiety to prayer. 
 
 Hast thou a hope, with which thy heart 
 Would almost feel it death to part? 
 Entreat thy God that hope to crown. 
 Or, give thee strength to lay it down. 
 
 Hast thou a friend whose image dear 
 May prove an idol worshipped here ? 
 Implore the Lord that naught may be 
 A shadow y between Heaven and thee. 
 
 Whate'er the care that breaks thy rest, 
 Whate'er the wish which swells thy breast. 
 Spread before God tJiat wish, that care. 
 And change anxiety to prayer. 
 
 Question Not. 
 
 Go thou and watch, and pray, 
 
 Whate'er may be thy lot; 
 
 And cheerfully, from day to day. 
 
 Toil on, but question not. 
 10 
 
146 Do Right. 
 
 The way may oft be strait, 
 
 Our souls in grief be bowed, 
 But patiently work on, and wait : 
 
 There's light behind the cloud. 
 
 God's ways are not as ours. 
 
 For so His Word has taught ; 
 Then, if thou find more thorns than flowers, 
 
 Press on, and question not. 
 
 Though Friendship's chain be riv^en 
 
 By a loving Father's hand. 
 Again it will be joined in heaven, 
 
 Beyond this earthly strand. 
 
 Yes, after darkness light; 
 
 And joy, when grief is o'er; 
 Then hope to find the future bright. 
 
 But question nevermore. 
 
 Do Right. 
 
 Go boldly on; do what is right; 
 Ask not for private ease or good ; 
 
Faith. 1 47 
 
 Let one bright star direct thy sight — 
 The polar star of rectitude. 
 
 Go boldly on ; and though the road 
 Thy weary, bleeding feet shall rend, 
 
 Angels shall help thee bear thy load, 
 And God himself thy steps attend. 
 
 Do right, and thou hast naught to fear; 
 
 Right hath a power that makes thee strong; 
 The night is dark, but light is near ; 
 
 The grief is short, the joy is long. 
 
 Know, in thy dark and troubled day, 
 
 To friends of truth, and light, are given, 
 
 When strife, and toils, have passed away. 
 The sweet rewards, and joys of Heaven. 
 
 Faith. 
 
 Have faith ! 'Twill raise thy soul above 
 The fleeting joys of earth, 
 
1 48 Faith, 
 
 To scenes of sweet unclouded love 
 
 And things of glorious birth ; 
 'Twill waft thee on its eagle wing, 
 
 Afar, thy sins forgiven. 
 Where loud the echoing anthems ring 
 
 From angel-harps in heaven. 
 
 'Twill wipe away the gathering tear 
 
 And whisper words of peace ; 
 'Twill soothe the spirit sorrowing here, 
 
 The burdened conscience ease; 
 'Twill beam in rays upon the soul 
 
 More bright than stars of even, 
 From skies where clouds can never roll: 
 
 Faith is the light from heaven. 
 
 'Twill bind a wreath of beauty round 
 
 The calm, unruffled brow — 
 Rich flowers the joyous heart has found 
 
 Where " living waters " flow. 
 Have faith ! 'Twill guide the trembling bark 
 
 Of life when tempest-driven. 
 O'er angry waves, through surges dark, 
 
 To peaceful shores in heaven. 
 
To a Friend. 149 
 
 There, robed in white, before the throne 
 
 Of God the spirit kneels, 
 And sings for aye the grace divine 
 
 That blood-bought pardon seals ; 
 There bliss immortal ever reigns. 
 
 Nor Friendship's bonds are riven ; 
 Oh, sweet the flower that decks those plains, 
 
 The Rose of Love in Heaven. 
 
 To A Friend. 
 
 Hast thou e'er seen a trembling plant, 
 Of feeble bloom, and lowly birth, 
 
 Which every passing blast might bend 
 In sadness, to its mother Earth, 
 
 Till some kind hand would pierce the shade 
 That hid it from the cheering sky ? 
 
 Thifie is that gentle, culturing hand ; 
 The weak and trembling plant am /. 
 
 And while that plant of life shall taste, 
 And press this earthly spot. 
 
1 50 Communion, 
 
 The hand that reared it from the waste 
 Can never be forgot. 
 
 Communion. 
 
 When far from the hearts where our fondest 
 thoughts centre, 
 Denied for a time their loved presence to 
 share, 
 In the spirit we meet, when the closet we en- 
 ter, 
 And hold sweet Communion together, in 
 prayer. 
 
 Oh, fondly I think, as night's curtains sur- 
 round them, - 
 The Shepherd of Israel tenderly keeps; 
 The angels of light are encamping around 
 them; 
 They are watched by the Eye that ne'er 
 slumbers nor sleeps. 
 
Comm7imon. 1 5 1 
 
 When the voice of the morning once more 
 shall awake them, 
 And summon them forth to the calls of the 
 day, 
 I will think of that God who will never for- 
 sake them, 
 The Friend ever near, though all else be 
 away. 
 
 Then why, should one thought of anxiety 
 
 seize us ? / 
 
 Though distance divide us, from those whom 
 we love. 
 They rest in the covenant mercy of Jesus ; 
 Their prayers meet with ours, in the man- 
 sions above. 
 
 Oh, sweet bond of Friendship! Whate'er may 
 betide us, 
 Though on life's stormy billows, our barks 
 may be driven. 
 Though distance, or trial, or death, may di- 
 vide us, 
 Eternal reunion awaits us in Heaven. 
 
152 The l7ivitatio7i. 
 
 The Invitation. 
 
 Come ! — Matt. xi. 28. 
 
 I HAVE a Friend, a precious Friend, unchang- 
 ing, wise and true, 
 
 The "Chief among ten thousand;" oh, I wish 
 you knew Him too ! 
 
 When all the pains that wait on me relax 
 each feeble limb, 
 
 I know who waits to welcome me; have you 
 a friend like Him? 
 
 He comforts me, He strengthens me; how 
 can I, then, repine ? 
 
 He loveth me! This faithful Friend in life 
 and death, is mine. 
 
 I have a Father true and fond : He cares for 
 
 all my needs ; 
 His patience bore my faithless ways, my sad 
 
 and foolish deeds ; 
 To me He sends sweet messages ; He wait- 
 
 eth but to bless : 
 Have yoii a father like to mine in such deep 
 
 tenderness ? 
 
The Invitation. 153 
 
 For me a kingdom doth He keep, for me a 
 
 crown is won; 
 I was a rebel once : He calls the rebel child 
 
 His son. 
 
 I have a proved, unerring Guide, whose love 
 I often grieve ; 
 
 He brings me golden promises my heart can 
 scarce receive ; 
 
 He leadeth me, and hope, and cheer, doth for 
 my path provide; 
 
 For dreary nights and days of drought have 
 yoti so sure a guide? 
 
 Quench not the faintest whisper that the heav- 
 enly Dove may bring; 
 
 He seeks with holy love to lure the wanderer 
 'neath His wing. 
 
 I have a home — a home so bright its beauties 
 
 none can know; 
 Its pavement sapphire, and such palms, none 
 
 ever saw below ; 
 Its golden streets resound with joy, its pearly 
 
 gates with praise, 
 
154 The Invitation, 
 
 A temple standeth in the midst no human 
 hands could raise; 
 
 And there unfailing fountains flow, and pleas- 
 ures never end, 
 
 Who makes that home so glorious? It is my 
 loving Friend. 
 
 My Friend, my Father, and my Guide, and 
 
 this, our radiant home 
 Are offered j/ou. Turn not away; to-day, I 
 
 pray you, '' Come !" * 
 My Father yearns to welcome you, His heart, 
 
 His house, to share; 
 My Friend is yours, my home is yours ; my 
 
 Guide will lead you there. 
 Behold One altogether fair, the faithful, and the 
 
 true ; 
 He pleadeth with you for your love. He gave 
 
 His life for you. 
 
 Oh, leave the worthless things you seek, they 
 
 perish in a day, 
 Serve now the true and living God ; from 
 
 idols turn away; 
 
Diffictilties. 1 5 5 
 
 Watch for the Lord who comes to reign ; en- 
 ter the open door; 
 
 Give Him thine heart, thy broken heart; 
 thou'lt ask it back no more : 
 
 Trust Him for grace, and strength, and love, 
 and all thy troubles end; 
 
 Oh, come to Jesus, and you'll find in Him a 
 loving Friend. 
 
 Difficulties. 
 
 "This cannot be the rightful path!" a tearful 
 pilgrim said. 
 
 As, resting on a wayside stone, she bowed 
 her aching head; 
 
 " So rough and toilsome an ascent, where 
 thorns distress my feet. 
 
 Where no green pastures glad the eye, nor 
 cooling waters meet. 
 
 But all around looks strange, and wild, un- 
 trodden save by me, 
 
 Is this the path in which to go ? Oh no ! it 
 cannot be !" 
 
156 Difficulties, 
 
 As thus she thoughtfully complained, a cheer- 
 ing voice was heard, 
 
 Soothing, and gentle, as the breeze, with which 
 the leaves are stirred; 
 
 "O gentle maiden, hft thy head; repress thy 
 burning tears, 
 
 And hush for ever in thy heart, these sad 
 complaints and fears. 
 
 Footsore, and faint, thou sittest here, disheart- 
 ened, and dismayed 
 
 By just those very aspects, which, with keener 
 glance surveyed. 
 
 Would stimulate thy languid march and fresh- 
 ening hopes excite. 
 
 For difficulties in thy path, betoken thou art 
 right. 
 
 " Because the 07ily path to peace, through care 
 
 and conflict lies ; 
 Undaunted, those must onward press, who 
 
 hope to win the prize; 
 Hard seems the struggle now, but know that 
 
 discipline like this 
 
Difficulties. 157 
 
 Develops, and augments thy powers, and 
 heightens future bHss. 
 
 Rise ! be courageous ! force thy way through 
 all that may oppose, 
 
 And soon the rest thou longest for, thine ar- 
 duous race shall close; 
 
 And with surprise thou then wilt read, in by- 
 gone toil, and strife, 
 
 The presage of serener hours, with joy, and 
 gladness rife/' 
 
 Was it an angel's form, which in that maid- 
 en's path appeared ? 
 
 Was it an angel-voice, which thus her down- 
 cast spirit cheered? 
 
 It matters not; I only know, no angel could 
 have brought 
 
 A happier message than the truth, thus oppor- 
 tunely taught. 
 
 And she with lighter heart, and step, and fail- 
 ing strength renewed, 
 
 O'er rugged roads, and mountain-steeps, her 
 pilgrimage pursued, 
 
158 To a Friend, 
 
 Content — nay, glad — to climb, though often- 
 times oppressed. 
 
 Since she was in the path that led to victory, 
 and to rest. 
 
 To A Friend, 
 
 Thou dost not need that verse of mine 
 
 Should speak my thanks, or paint thy worth. 
 
 And yet a friendship loved as thine 
 May bear what gratitude gives birth. 
 
 Thou art not like those flowers, that ask 
 
 The aid of art, as frail as fair, 
 Which in conservatories bask. 
 
 But wither in the open air. 
 
 These stem no storm and brook no blast, 
 Though bright their blossoming may be; 
 
 Their perfume pleases, and is past. 
 Such things are not a type of thee. 
 
To a Friend. 159 
 
 They are not; but, I've seen ere now, 
 On some wild ruin, mossed, and gray, 
 
 A flower as fair, as sweet, as thou. 
 Blessing with bloom its latest day. 
 
 And while its loveliness, has lent, 
 
 Fresh beauty, to that mouldering wall. 
 
 It seemed, as if its sweets were sent 
 To make up, for the loss of all. 
 
 The winds might howl, the ruin rock. 
 
 It flourished fearlessly, and fair. 
 It shrunk not from the impending shock ; 
 
 It spoke defiance, to despair. 
 
 And thus, in seasons dark, and drear, 
 When I have felt — how oft, alas ! — 
 
 With many a mute foreboding fear. 
 The ruin of what once I was. 
 
 Thy friendship, like that faithful flower, 
 
 Surviving much, defying all, 
 Has caused on sorrow's saddest hour 
 
 Some streaks of happier hue to fall. 
 
i6o The Shadow and the Light, 
 
 Heaven bless thee for it ! and believe 
 That He, who bids the gentle dew- 
 Refresh the wall-flower, every eve, 
 And morning sunbeams warm it too- 
 
 Oh, doubt not, He will doubly bless 
 What purest friendship hath inspired. 
 
 And for its worth, and faithfulness. 
 Return, what it hath not required. 
 
 The Shadow and the Light. 
 
 **0 PILGRIM on Hfe's journey. 
 Treading its downward way. 
 Art thou the same bright creature 
 Who sprang with hopes so gay 
 
 "Forth on the unknown pathway 
 When life was fresh and new, 
 Tinging each scene around her 
 With its own golden hue? 
 
The Shadow and the Light. i6i 
 
 "The same, and yet another; 
 Another, yet the same; 
 How changed the inner being! 
 How changed the outward frame! 
 
 "Where is the bounding footstep? 
 Where is the eye's quick sight? 
 And where the buoyant spirit, 
 The laughter long and light? 
 
 "The step no more is lightsome, 
 The eye is slow to see, 
 And chastened is the laughter, 
 Of old so full of glee. 
 
 "Amid the raven tresses 
 The silver threads appear; 
 Streaking the midnight darkness. 
 They gather year by year. 
 
 "The girlhood dreams so brilliant 
 
 That floated through the mind, 
 
 Fleeting as sunset glories, 
 
 Which leave no trace behind, — 
 11 
 
1 62 The Shadow and the Light, 
 
 " How are they all departed, 
 
 Those dreams of youth's bright hours, 
 That came, and went, and vanished. 
 And died like last year's flowers! 
 
 "The friends who spread above thee 
 
 In childhood's early day 
 Their kind protecting shelter. 
 Thy parents — where are they?'* 
 
 Thus sings the eanhly minstrel, 
 Mourning o'er pleasures gone; 
 
 But high above these changes, 
 Thus speaks the heavenly One : 
 
 "Why mourn o'er strength departed? 
 God's strong right arm shall be 
 Thy power. His quickening Spirit 
 Thy spirit's energy. 
 
 "And every trembling footstep, 
 And every waning power. 
 And every hair that silvers. 
 Tells of the coming hour 
 
The Shadow and the Light, 163 
 
 *'When, laying off these garments, 
 This toil-worn robe of earth, 
 Thou shalt put on the vesture 
 That waits the spirit's birth. 
 
 " Earth is no vale of sadness. 
 Seen in that holy light — 
 That smile of God, whose glory 
 Makes even darkness bright. 
 
 "And if, through all life's changes, 
 Thy steadfast aim hath been. 
 To take each onward footstep 
 By faith in things unseen, 
 
 "Far holier than the gladness 
 Of youth's light-hearted glee 
 Deep in thy long-tried spirit 
 The 'peace of God' shall be. 
 
 "And for the dreams of girlhood 
 Shall beam upon thine eyes 
 The fair celestial mansions 
 Eternal in the skies. 
 
1 64 Little by Little, 
 
 "The friends who clustered round thee 
 In thy first home of love, 
 
 * Not lost, but gone before ' thee. 
 They wait for thee above. 
 
 "Thou canst not falter, pilgrim, 
 On life's declining road, 
 If through its light and shadow 
 Thine eye be fixed on God." 
 
 Little by Little. 
 
 When the new years come, and the old years 
 
 go. 
 How, little by little, all things grow! 
 
 All things grow, and all decay, 
 
 Little by little passing away. 
 
 Little by little, on fertile plain, 
 
 Ripen the harvests of golden grain, 
 
 Waving and flashing in the sun, 
 
 When the summer at last is done. 
 
Little by Little. 165 
 
 Little by little they ripen so 
 
 As the new years come and the old years 
 
 go. 
 
 Low on the ground an acorn lies, 
 
 Little by little it mounts to the skies, 
 
 Shadow and shelter for wandering herds, 
 
 Home for a hundred singing-birds. 
 
 Little by little the great rocks grew 
 
 Long, long ago, when the world was new; 
 
 Slowly and silently, stately and free, 
 
 Cities of coral under the sea 
 
 Little by little are building; while so 
 
 The new years come and the old years 
 
 go- 
 
 « 
 
 Little by little old tasks are done ; 
 
 So are the crowns of the faithful won, 
 
 So is heaven in our hearts begun. 
 
 With work and with weeping, with laughter 
 
 and play. 
 Little by little, the longest day. 
 And the longest life are passing away — 
 
1 66 Links in the Chain, 
 
 Passing without return ; while so 
 
 The new years come and the old years go. 
 
 Links in the Chain. 
 
 The blast that drove the storm-clouds across 
 the heavens shook the oak, and the acorn- 
 cup, loosened from its fruit, fell on the 
 pathway ; 
 
 A cloud burst; a raindrop filled the acorn- 
 cup. % 
 
 A robin, wearied by the sultry heat of an au- 
 tumn day, and troubled by the fury of 
 the storm, hopped on the path when all 
 was calm, and drank of the raindrop. 
 Refreshed and gladdened, he flew to his 
 accustomed place in the ivy that overhung 
 the poet's window, and there he trilled 
 his sweetest, happiest song. 
 
 The poet heard, and rising from his reverie 
 wrote a chant of graceful rejoicing. The 
 chant went forth into the world, and en- 
 
Links in the Chain, 167 
 
 tered the house of sorrow, and uttered its 
 heart-stirring accents by the couch of 
 sickness. The sorrowful were comforted, 
 the sick were cheered. 
 
 Many voices praised the poet. He said, "The 
 chant was inspired by the robin's song." 
 
 " I owe my song to the raindrop," said the 
 robin. 
 
 *' I should have sunk into the earth had not 
 the acorn-cup received me," said the rain- 
 drop. 
 
 " I had not been there to receive you but for 
 the angry blast," said the acorn-cup. 
 
 And so, they that w^ere comforted praised the 
 blast ; but the blast replied, " Praise Him 
 at whose word the stormy wind ariseth, 
 and who from darkness can bring light, 
 making His mercies oftentimes to pass 
 through unseen, unknown, and unsuspect- 
 ed channels, and bringing in due time, 
 by His own way, the grateful chant from 
 the angry storm-cloud." 
 
1 68 Mizpah, 
 
 Do Justly. 
 
 "Do justly!" 'tis thy God's command, 
 
 The mandate of thy King; 
 Be prompt in rendering dues to all, 
 And let no fraud-spot, great or small, 
 
 Unto thy conscience cling. 
 
 •' Love mercy," thou who need'st its aid 
 
 Through all this mortal strife. 
 Whose highest thought, whose purest deed, 
 Must still Divine forbearance need, 
 
 Love that which is thy life. 
 
 " Walk humbly," thou so soon to sleep 
 
 Beneath the noteless sod ; 
 For how can dust and ashes dare 
 The panoply of pride to wear? 
 
 Walk humbly with thy God. 
 
 Mizpah. 
 
 When friend from friend is partin< 
 And in each speaking eye 
 
Mizpah. 1 69 
 
 The silent tears are starting, 
 
 To tell what words deny, 
 How could we bear the heavy load 
 
 Of such heart-agony 
 Could we not cast it all, our God, 
 
 Our gracious God, on Thee, 
 And feel that Thou kind watch will keep 
 
 When we are far away — 
 That thou wilt soothe us when we weep 
 
 And hear us when we pray? 
 
 Yet oft these hearts will whisper 
 
 That better 'twould betide 
 If we were near to those we love, 
 
 And zvatchvig by their side ; 
 But sure Thou'lt love tJicm dearer, Lord, 
 
 For trusting Thee alone, 
 And sure TJiou wilt draw nearer^ Lord. 
 
 The farther we are gone. 
 Then why be sad, since Thou wilt keep 
 
 Watch o'er them day by day — 
 Since Thou wilt soothe them when they weep 
 
 And hear iis when we pray ? 
 
170 JesMs Only. 
 
 Jesus Only. 
 
 O Thou dear Lord, who stayest 
 When all the guests are gone, 
 
 When in its silent chambers 
 The soul sits down alone. 
 
 Our garlands are all withered. 
 Our sweetest songs are sung, 
 
 The lamps which lit our feasting 
 Have gone out one by one. 
 
 The gladness and the beauty 
 Have vanished from our sight. 
 
 The footsteps of our dear ones 
 Have died away in night. 
 
 Yet, thanks to Thee that ever 
 Thou comest at our will. 
 
 Thy voice is heard the clearer 
 When all the house is still. 
 
 As on the Mount of Vision, 
 Amid the shining three. 
 
A Song of Tha7iks, 171 
 
 The overawed disciples 
 
 Looked up and saw but Thee, 
 
 So we, our brightness faded, 
 Our sweet companions flown, 
 
 Lift up our troubled faces, 
 To find Thou art not gone, 
 
 Thanks to Thy name that ever 
 In grief Thou dost appear, 
 
 That by each deepening shadow 
 We know Thy sunshine near. 
 
 Be Ruler of our feasting. 
 
 Thou Love of love, alone, 
 O Thou dear Lord, who stayest 
 
 When all the guests are gone. 
 
 A Song of Thanks. 
 
 *' I WILL give thanks " for blessings strewn 
 Across my pilgrim way; 
 For loving-kindness Thou hast shown 
 Thy servant day by day. 
 
172 Prayer. 
 
 *' I will give thanks " for friendships made 
 
 With honored saints of God; 
 I will give thanks for loved ones laid 
 
 Beneath the silent sod. 
 
 " Thanks " for the cup of unmixed joy- 
 Filled to the very brim; 
 
 Thanks, too, for bitter grief's alloy, 
 And eyes for sorrow dim. 
 
 " I will give thanks " for wayside streams 
 
 Whereat my soul hath drunk ; 
 For impulse from thy quickening beams 
 
 When hope had wellnigh sunk. 
 
 Thanks for the " word of truth " which brought 
 
 My soul her daily food ; 
 Thanks for the " all things," that have wrought 
 
 Together for my good. 
 
 Pra YER. 
 
 In thinking how my friend this morn could see 
 My soul with hers would intermingled be, 
 
Thoughts at the Grave of a Friend. 173 
 
 In quiet tone my heart to her shall speak, 
 And in return, a kind remembrance seek, 
 ^By Prayer, that language winged, strong, and 
 
 clear, 
 Which in one sigh, embraces all held dear. 
 Shows to the heart, and brings in sight of 
 
 God, 
 So many loved ones, near, and far abroad. 
 A boundless language, reaching to the sky. 
 The better heard that it ascends so high ; 
 Pure incense, which an equal perfume leaves 
 With him who lights the flame, and who re- 
 ceives. 
 
 Thoughts at the Grave of a 
 Friend. 
 
 Lonely and low is thy dwelling-place now, 
 On which the bright sunbeams are dawning. 
 
 But oh, I remember the moments, when thou 
 Wast as blithe as the breeze of the morn- 
 ing. 
 
1 74 Thoughts at the Grave of a Friend, 
 
 Silent and sad is the place of thy rest, 
 
 Where thou sleep'st the last slumber de- 
 creed thee, 
 But well I remember, when warm was thy 
 breast, 
 How few* in gay mirth could exceed thee. 
 
 Yet rest in thy mansion ; sleep quietly on ; 
 There was naught in that mirth which 
 should cost thee, 
 Or those who best knew thee, one sigh now 
 thou'rl gone, 
 Were it not that too early we lost thee. 
 
 Thine was not the laughter which leaves us 
 more sad, 
 Unnatural, unheeded, unglowing, 
 'Twas a gush of enjoyment, which seemed to 
 be glad 
 To get loose, from a heart overflowing. 
 
 But 'tis not the memory of moments of mirth 
 Which thy claim to remembrance now gives 
 thee. 
 
Expressive Silence, 175 
 
 Their light is obscured by the grave, but thy 
 worth, 
 In spite of the grave, still outlives thee. 
 
 Thy sterling integrity, candor, and sense, 
 Thy benevolence, frank and warm-hearted. 
 
 Which shamed the professions of empty pre- 
 tence. 
 These live, though thy life has departed, 
 
 AncJ long shall they lend to thy lonely tomb 
 A glory like that the sun grants us. 
 
 When the clouds he hath set in, have lost all 
 their gloom, 
 And a beautiful twilight enchants us. 
 
 Expressive Silence. 
 
 Sacred silence ! All thy power 
 Have we ever known ? 
 
 -No ! We lavish upon language 
 Praise that is thy own. 
 
176 Expressive Silence, 
 
 Thought is silent in its dweUing, 
 
 Deep within the breast; 
 Speech is but the outward clothing 
 
 In which thought is drest. 
 
 Speech is but the upper current 
 
 Of a deep, deep sea ; 
 Far below in sacred silence 
 
 Must the treasures be. 
 
 Calmness, coolness, dwell with silence, 
 
 Silent falls the dew ; 
 Silent roll the stars above us, 
 
 In the unfathomed blue, 
 
 Silent worship ! 'tis not merely 
 
 Found by sitting still, 
 This is but the outward symbol 
 
 Of the silent will. 
 
 Silent waiting ! not the body, 
 
 But the soul, that stands 
 With bowed head, and ear attentive 
 
 For its Lord's commands. 
 
Expressive Silence. 177 
 
 Silent suffering! loud lamenting 
 
 Never had thy power; 
 Silent sympathy ! no other 
 
 Fits the darkest hour. 
 
 Silent gratitude! when language 
 
 Vainly strives to tell 
 All her sense of good accepted, 
 
 Silence speaks it well. 
 
 Mute submission ! meekly bowing 
 
 'Neath the Eternal's will, 
 "Dumb because my Father did it" 
 
 Is its language still. 
 
 Silent joy ! to give it utterance 
 
 Music has no tone ; 
 When the deepest, purest, holiest, 
 
 It is all our own. 
 
 What can still the voice of slander 
 
 Like the mute reply. 
 
 Love to slanderer and slandered 
 
 Speaking in the eye ? 
 12 
 
178 Expressive Sileiice. 
 
 Is the spirit moved to anger 
 
 By another's speech ? 
 Silent mastery of passion 
 
 Best his heart will reach. 
 
 Silent vigils, silent prayers ! 
 
 Oh how they ascend 
 From the sad and anxious watchers 
 
 By the couch they tend ! 
 
 And like vapor heavenward tending, 
 They will fall in showers, 
 
 Making parched and barren deserts 
 Cheerful with spring flowers. 
 
 Mingling with the crowds around us, 
 
 As we pass them by 
 We can give but friendly greeting, 
 
 Or the kind reply. 
 
 But the hand-in-hand companions 
 
 Journeying side by side 
 Toward the one eternal city, 
 
 Loving, true, and tried, 
 
Expressive Silence. 179 
 
 Why should these be ever feeding 
 
 Upon words alone, 
 When the heart's most precious feeling 
 
 Is to each unknown ? 
 
 Ah ! how many social gatherings, 
 
 Were we simply true. 
 Would enrich and bless our spirits 
 
 More than now they do ! 
 
 Thought and speech would flow together; 
 
 And when these were not, 
 Silence like the heavenly manna 
 
 Feeds again the thought. 
 
 We should often find at parting 
 
 That a heavenly Guest, 
 Known by breaking bread among us, 
 
 Had our gathering blest. 
 
i8o Trifle Not. 
 
 Trifle Not. 
 
 'Tis not for man to trifle ; life is brief, 
 
 And sin is here ; 
 Our age is but the falling of a leaf, 
 
 A dropping tear. 
 We have no time to sport away the hours ; 
 All must be earnest in a world like ours. 
 
 Not many lives, but only one^ have we — 
 
 One, only one; 
 How sacred should that one life ever be, 
 
 That narrow span ! 
 Day after day filled up with blessed toil. 
 Hour after hour still bringing in new spoil. 
 
 Oh, life beloiv ! how brief, and poor, and sad ! 
 
 One heavy sigh; 
 Oh, life above ! how, long, and fair, and glad ! 
 
 An endless joy. 
 Oh, to be done with daily dying here I 
 Oh, to begin the living in yon sphere ! 
 
Finish thy Work, i8i 
 
 Finish thy Work, 
 
 Finish thy work ! The time is short, 
 
 The sun is in the west ; 
 The night is coming on; till then 
 
 Think not of rest. 
 
 Yes, finish thy work, then rest; 
 
 Till then rest never; 
 The rest prepared for thee by God, 
 
 Is rest for ever. 
 
 Finish thy work, then wipe thy brow, 
 
 Ungird thee from thy toil; 
 Take breath, and from each weary limb 
 
 Shake off the soil. 
 
 Finish thy work, then sit thee down 
 
 On some celestial hill, 
 And of its strength-reviving air 
 
 Take then thy fill. 
 
 Finish thy work, then go in peace, 
 Life's battle fought and won; 
 
1 82 Hidden Life. 
 
 Hear from the throne thy Master's voice 
 " Well done ! Well done !" 
 
 Finish thy work, then take thy harp, 
 
 Give praise to God above ; 
 Sing a new song of mighty joy 
 
 And endless love. 
 
 Give thanks to Him who held thee up 
 
 In all thy path below ; 
 Who sees thee faithful unto death, 
 
 And crowns thee now. 
 
 Hidden Life. 
 
 Your life is hid with Christ in God. — CoL. iii. 3. 
 
 Secret, and deep, the crystal springs. 
 
 From which the mountain streamlet flows ; 
 
 Silent, and sealed, the wondrous germ. 
 
 From which the generous shade-tree grows; 
 
 And far away, on some lone height, 
 Where human footsteps may not roam, 
 
Hidden Life. 183 
 
 Nor dark earth-shadows dim the Hght, 
 The free, brave eagle finds a home; 
 So thy best strength, O human heart! 
 Comes from a hidden Source apart. 
 
 From its calm depths, the daily flow 
 
 Of outward life is pure and clear; 
 Souls, fed from living waters, show 
 
 Their source of strength by virtue here; 
 And hearts, which drink of love divine, 
 
 Brighten with love life's shadowy way — 
 A love, which more and more shall shine, 
 
 Unto the perfect, endless day. 
 Through God's blest power, their lives may be, 
 Like eagle soarings, brave and free. 
 
 Hush, then, the promptings of thy will, 
 
 And humbly wait the heavenly Guest, 
 For in His presence, sweet and still. 
 
 Rude passion shall be soothed to rest; 
 And when thy heart is hushed, and calm, 
 
 Earnest to feel the touch divine, 
 His Spirit comes, a healing balm, 
 
 And breathes its sweetness into thine. 
 
184 A^ the Last. 
 
 At the Last 
 
 Man goeth forth unto his work, and to his labor, until 
 the evening. — Ps. civ. 23. 
 
 The stream is calmest, when it nears the tide, 
 And flowers are sweetest, at the eventide, 
 And birds most musical, at the close of day, 
 And saints divinest, when they pass away. 
 
 Morning is lovely, but a holier charm 
 Lies folded close in Evening's robe of balm, 
 And weary man must ever love her best, 
 For Morning calls to toil, but Night brings 
 rest. 
 
 She comes from Heaven, and on her wings 
 
 doth bear 
 A holy fragrance, like the breath of prayer; 
 Footsteps of angels follow in her trace, 
 To shut the weary eyes of Day in peace. 
 
 All things are hushed before her, as she 
 
 throws 
 O'er earth and sky her mantle of repose; 
 
Knowing as we are Known, 185 
 
 There is a calm, a beauty, and a power. 
 That morning knows not, in the evening 
 hour. 
 
 "Until the evening" we must weep and toil, 
 Plough life's stern furrows, dig the weedy 
 
 soil. 
 Tread with tired feet our rough, and thorny, 
 
 way, 
 And bear the heat, and burden, of the day. 
 
 Oh, when our sun is setting, may we glide. 
 Like summer evening, down the golden tide. 
 And leave behind us, as we pass away, 
 Sweet, starry twilight round our sleeping clay ! 
 
 Knowing as we are Known. 
 
 Wandering down life's mystic pathway, 
 Through the sunlight, through the shade, 
 
 Under sheltering palms of Elim, 
 Or through Baca's lonely glade, 
 
1 86 Knowing as we are Known. 
 
 We have clasped dear hands of friendship, 
 We have spoken, heart to heart; 
 
 Lips have whispered sweetest comfort. 
 Ere the darkness rent apart. 
 
 Ere God's angel smote our eyelids 
 With a blindness full of tears; 
 
 Shall the veil again be lifted 
 In the far, eternal years ? 
 
 As we pass death's solemn river, 
 
 Meet the ransomed, clothed in white. 
 
 Shall we know the loved and parted, 
 Taken from our longing sight ? 
 
 Shall the hands, unclasped in sorrow, 
 Be reclasped, in streets of gold? 
 
 Shall we know our lambs, so tender. 
 Gathered in the Shepherd's fold? 
 
 Yes ! Within the glad Hereafter, 
 
 Passed through gleaming gates of pearl. 
 
 We shall know and love for ever, 
 While God's ages onward roll. 
 
III. 
 NATURE 
 
NATURE 
 
 Nature. 
 
 Nature, whose ever- varying face 
 
 Shows such infinity of grace, 
 
 Responsive to our gayer hours 
 
 With murmurous streams, and smihng flowers, 
 
 In the swift flight of insect-wing; 
 
 In every note thy sweet birds sing, 
 
 Thou callest with exultant voice 
 
 Unto the glad, " Rejoice ! rejoice !" 
 
 The stricken heart, the thoughtful mood, 
 Find solace in thy sombre wood ; 
 'Mong lonely hills, grand mountain-lines. 
 Broken by serried ranks of pines; 
 The cataract's vibrating roar; 
 And the wild, storm-torn, rocky shore, 
 Whereon the sea, with restless moan. 
 Beats his dark waves to seething foam, — 
 
 1S9 
 
1 90 The Mysteries of Nature. 
 
 In these, the sad heart finds expressed 
 His solemn thoughts, his stern unrest, 
 The subtle sympathy, that springs 
 From reading God in natural things. 
 
 Oh, more than others, blest is he 
 Who walks the earth with eyes to see; 
 Who finds the hieroglyphics clear, 
 Which God has written everywhere; 
 Among the stars, upon the wing 
 Of the minutest fluttering thing — 
 Ciphers, that only need the key 
 Of reverence, faith, humility. 
 Him, Mother Nature, leadest thou. 
 With cheerful heart, and earnest brow, 
 Safely along life's care-strewn road. 
 From earth to heaven, from thee to God. 
 
 The Mysteries of Nature. 
 
 The works of God are fair for naught. 
 Unless our eyes, far seeing, 
 
The Mysteries of Nature, 19I 
 
 See hidden in the thing the thought 
 That animates its being. 
 
 The outward form is not the whole, 
 
 But every part is moulded 
 To image forth an inward soul, 
 
 That dimly is unfolded. 
 
 The dew falls nightly, not alone 
 Because the meadows need it, 
 
 But, on an errand of its own. 
 To human souls that heed it. 
 
 The stars are lighted in the skies, 
 
 Not merely for their shining, 
 But, like the looks of loving eyes. 
 
 Have meanings worth divining. 
 
 Thus Nature dwells within our reach. 
 But, though we stand so near her, 
 
 We still interpret half her speech 
 With ears too dull to hear her. 
 
 Whoever yearns to see aright, 
 Because his heart is tender, 
 
192 The Best Teacher, 
 
 Shall catch a glimpse of heavenly light 
 In every earthly splendor. 
 
 So, since the universe began, 
 
 And till it shall be ended, 
 The soul of Nature, soul of man, 
 
 And soul of God are blended. 
 
 The Best Teacher. 
 
 From everything our Saviour saw, 
 Lessons of wisdom He would draw — 
 The clouds, the colors in the sky; 
 The gentle breeze, that whispers by; 
 The fields, all white with waving corn; 
 The lilies, that the vale adorn; 
 The reed, that trembles in the wind; 
 The tree, where none its fruit can find ; 
 The sliding sand ; the flinty rock. 
 That bears unmoved the tempest's shock; 
 The thorns, that on the earth abound; 
 The tender grass, that clothes the ground ; 
 
Sunrise. 193 
 
 The little birds, that fly in air; 
 The sheep, that need the shepherd's care; 
 The pearls, that deep in ocean lie; 
 The gold, that charms the miser's eye. 
 All from His lips some truth proclaim, 
 Or learn to tell their Maker's name. 
 
 Sunrise. 
 
 Far within the cloud-flecked east 
 Glowing tints begin to swim. 
 
 As if Nature's great high priest 
 
 In color, poured his morning hymn. 
 
 Brighter glows the kindling flame, 
 Until at length the sun I see. 
 
 While somewhat, that I cannot name. 
 Responds with thrilling joy in me, 
 
 As if all this sumptuous show 
 
 Awoke some sleeping hint of thought. 
 
 Of joys my spirit used to know 
 
 Ere she within this form, was caught. 
 
 13 
 
1 94 Morning, 
 
 'Tis far more than joy of eye 
 
 That moves me thus to happy tears, 
 
 As the radiant colors die, 
 And the perfect day appears. 
 
 Nothing more I know than this : 
 Earth, and her various mysteries. 
 
 Touch our souls with holier bliss, 
 As holier things they symbolize. 
 
 Thus, with such glories rich and bright. 
 Whispers the sweet voice of Faith, 
 
 Shall dawn for us Heaven's holy light. 
 After the solemn night of death. 
 
 Morning. 
 
 Cojne, at the Morning honr. 
 Come, let iis kneel, and pray ; 
 
 Prayer is the Christian pilgrim's staff, 
 To gnide him on Ids way. 
 
 Begin thy day with God ; 
 He is thy Sun, and Day; 
 
Noon, 1 95 
 
 His is the radiance of thy dawn ; 
 To Him address thy lay. 
 
 Take thy first meal with God; 
 
 He is thy heavenly Food; 
 Feed with, and on, Him ; He with thee 
 
 Will feast in brotherhood. 
 
 Take thy first walk with God ; 
 
 Let Him go forth with thee; 
 By sea, or stream, or mountain-path, 
 
 Seek still His company. 
 
 Thy first transactions be 
 
 With God himself above; 
 So shall thy business prosper well, 
 
 And all the day be love. 
 
 Noon. 
 
 At Noon, bcneatJi the Rock 
 Of Ages rest aizd pray ; 
 
 Sweet is the shelter from the suit 
 In the weary heat of day. 
 
196 Evening. 
 
 It is bright noon of a summer's day; 
 The meadow-sides are sweet with hay; 
 I seek a cool and sheltered seat 
 Just where the field, and forest, meet. 
 Where grow the pine trees, tall, and bland, 
 The ancient oaks, austere, and grand. 
 And fringy roots, and pebbles, fret 
 The ripples of the rivulet. 
 
 Here, silently, and tenderly. 
 The dawn of peace descends on me. 
 Oh, this is peace ! I have no need 
 Of friend to talk, of book to read; 
 A dear Companion here abides; 
 Close to my thrilling heart He hides ; 
 The holy silence is His voice; 
 I he, and listen, and rejoice. 
 
 Evening. 
 
 At Evening, in thy home, 
 Aronnd its altar pray ; 
 
Night. 197 
 
 And finding there the house of God, 
 With Heaven then close the day. 
 
 Nozv comes the quiet, and the cool, of night, 
 To give me back the calm, of which the light 
 Of this gay world has sought me to bereave, 
 O gentle shadows of the tranquil eve ! — 
 Eve, with thy stillness, and soul-soothing 
 
 balm — 
 What do I owe thee for thy solemn calm? 
 Thou comest down, like some peace-bringing 
 
 dove, 
 To soothe, and cheer, me with thy silent 
 
 love. 
 
 Night. 
 
 When Midnight veils my eyes. 
 
 Oh, it is sweet to say, 
 I sleep, bnt my heaH waketh, Lord, 
 
 With Thee to watch, and pray. 
 
198 The Seasojis. 
 
 The bright day's scenes, and labors, close, 
 And wearied Nature seeks repose ; 
 With pardoning mercy richly blest, 
 Guard me, my Saviour, while I rest; 
 And as each morning sun shall rise, 
 Oh, lead me onward to the skies. 
 
 And at my life's last setting sun, 
 My conflicts o'er, my labors done, 
 Jesus, Thy heavenly radiance shed 
 To cheer, and bless, my dying-bed, 
 And from death's gloom my spirit raise 
 To see Thy face, and sing Thy praise. 
 
 The Seasons. 
 
 Eternal Power, from whom all blessings 
 
 flow. 
 Teach me still more to wonder, more to 
 
 know; 
 Seedtime, and harvest, let me see again ; 
 Wander the leaf-strewn wood, the frozen plain; 
 
The Months. 199 
 
 Let the first flower, corn-waving field, plain, 
 
 tree, 
 Here round my home, still lift my soul to 
 
 Thee; 
 And let me ever, 'mid Thy bounties, raise 
 An humble note of thankfulness, and praise. 
 
 The Months. 
 
 JANUARY. 
 
 "By His commandment He maketh the 
 snow to fall apace, and sendeth swiftly the 
 lightnings of his judgment. 
 
 ''By his great power He maketh the clouds 
 firm, and the hailstones are broken small. 
 
 "At His sight the mountains are shaken, 
 and at His will the north wind bloweth. 
 
 "The noise of the thunder maketh the 
 earth to tremble, so doth the northern storm, 
 and the whirlwind; as birds flying, he scat- 
 tereth the snow, and the falling thereof is as 
 the lighting of grasshoppers. 
 
200 The Months. 
 
 *' The eye marvelleth at the beauty of the 
 whiteness thereof, and the heart is astonished 
 at the raining of it. 
 
 "When the cold north wind bloweth, and 
 the water is congealed into ice, it abideth 
 upon every gathering together of water, and 
 clotheth the water as with a breastplate. 
 
 " It devoureth the mountains, and burneth 
 the wilderness, and consumeth grass as fire." 
 
 FEBRUARY. 
 
 " He giveth snow like wool ; he scattereth 
 the hoarfrost like ashes. 
 
 " He casteth forth His ice like morsels ; 
 who can stand before His cold? 
 
 " He sendeth out His word, and melteth 
 them ; He causeth His winds to blow, and 
 the waters flow." 
 
 Psalm cxlvii. 16-18. 
 
 MARCH. 
 
 And now men see not the bright light 
 
The Months. 201 
 
 which is in the clouds, but the wind pass- 
 eth by, and cleanseth them. 
 
 " Fair weather cometh out of the north." 
 
 Job xxxvii. 21, 22. 
 APRIL. 
 
 "Thou visitest the earth, and waterest it; 
 Thou greatly enrichest it with the river of 
 God, which is full of water; Thou preparest 
 them corn, when Thou hast so provided for 
 it. 
 
 "Thou waterest the ridges thereof abun- 
 dantly; Thou settlest the furrows thereof; 
 Thou makest it soft with showers; Thou 
 blessest the springing thereof 
 
 "Thou crownest the year with Thy good- 
 ness, and Thy paths drop fatness. 
 
 " They drop upon the pastures of the wil- 
 derness ; and the little hills rejoice on every 
 side. 
 
 "The pastures are clothed with flocks, and 
 the valleys also are covered over with corn; 
 they shout for joy; they also sing." 
 
 Psalm Ixv. 9-13. 
 
202 The Mofiths, 
 
 MAY. 
 
 "Lo, the winter is past, the rain is over 
 and gone. 
 
 "The flowers appear on the earth; the time 
 of the singing of birds is come, and the 
 voice of the turtle is heard in the land." 
 Song of Solomon ii. ii, 12. 
 
 JUNE. 
 
 " Come on, therefore, let us enjoy the good 
 things that are present. Let no flowers of 
 the spring pass by us. 
 
 " Let us crown ourselves with rosebuds be- 
 fore they be withered." 
 
 Song of Solomon ii. 6-8. 
 
 JULY. 
 
 "The clouds poured out water; the skies 
 sent out a sound; thine arrows also went 
 abroad. 
 
 "The voice of Thy thunder was in the 
 heaven, the lightnings lightened the world, 
 the earth trembled and shook." 
 
 Psalm Ixxvii. 17, 18, 
 
The Mo7iths, 203 
 
 *^ Look upon the rainbow, and praise Him 
 that made it; very beautiful it is in the 
 brightness thereof. 
 
 ** It compasseth the heaven about with a 
 glorious circle, and the hands of the Most 
 High have bended it." 
 
 AUGUST. 
 
 *' Lift up your eyes, and look on the fields ; 
 for they are white already to harvest." 
 
 John iv. 35. 
 
 SEPTEMBER. 
 
 " He causeth the grass to grow for the cat- 
 tle, and herb for the service of man, that he 
 may bring forth food out of the earth." 
 
 Psalm civ. 14. 
 
 OCTOBER. 
 
 " The harvest is past, the summer is ended." 
 
 Jeremiah viii. 20. 
 
204 The Snow - Wi^eath. 
 
 NOVEMBER. 
 
 " With clouds He covereth the hght, and 
 
 commandeth it not to shine by the cloud that 
 
 Cometh betwixt." 
 
 Job xxxvi. 32. 
 
 DECEMBER. 
 
 " He saith to the snow, Be thou on the 
 earth ; likewise to the small rain, and to the 
 great rain of His strength. 
 
 " He sealeth up the hand of every man : 
 that all men may know His work. 
 
 " The beasts go into dens, and remain in 
 their places. Out of the south cometh the 
 whirlwind: and cold out of the north. 
 
 " By the breath of God frost is given, and 
 the breadth of the waters is straitened." 
 
 Job xxxvii. 6-10. 
 
 The Snow-Wreath. 
 
 Oh, what is so pure, so soft, or so bright, 
 As a wreath of the new-fallen snow? 
 
The Snow - Wreath, 205 
 
 It seems as if brushed from the garments of 
 light, 
 To fall on us mortals below. 
 
 But here is no home for thee, child of the 
 sky; 
 
 Thy purity here must decay ; 
 Thy being be transient, thy beauty all die, 
 
 Nor a trace of thy loveliness stay. 
 
 Go, go to the mountain-top; there make thy 
 nest: 
 
 'Tis nearer thy own native home ; 
 And live on its peak, like a silvery crest, 
 
 Where nothing to soil thee can come. 
 
 This emblem — how apt of a virtuous mind 
 Made pure by the Spirit Divine ! 
 
 Like a snow-wreath, 'tis marred in a world 
 so unkind, 
 Fit only in heaven to shine. 
 
2o6 Wanderings. 
 
 Wanderings. 
 
 The world lay wide before me. 
 Everything shone with the light of newly-wa- 
 kened spring; 
 Each tree, each leaf, each half-unfolded flower, 
 Spoke to my heart with all-impressive power, 
 And bade me leave the noisy haunts of men, 
 And seek for pleasure in some lonely glen. 
 Or on the mountain-top, or in the wood, 
 Or by some onward, ever-rolling flood. 
 Where'er kind Nature's voice could to my 
 
 heart 
 Some holy truth, some heavenly life, impart; 
 Where'er her teachings could my spirit raise 
 To speak, with leaf and flower, my Maker's 
 praise ; , 
 
 And forth I strayed. 
 
 At first, my wandering way 
 Led where the river runs with ceaseless lay; 
 And as I listened to its rippling tide. 
 It seemed no more the sound of waves that 
 glide, 
 
Wa7iderings, 207 
 
 But like a silvery voice, that sang this song, 
 As through the vale the river flowed along: 
 
 " From a tiny cave in the mountain-side — 
 
 The mountain so wild and high — 
 Where the forest waves with majestic pride. 
 Where the wolf, the fox, and the serpent, hide, 
 From that tiny cave sprang I. 
 
 "Through the quivering leaves fell the golden 
 light 
 
 Of the sun's enchanting beam; 
 The wood-bird came from the mountain-height 
 To bathe his plumage, so fragile and bright. 
 
 In the flow of my crystal stream. 
 
 " On, on I went, dancing gayly along 
 
 Where the path was all untried; 
 Though the rocks oft raised a barrier strong, 
 I laughed at their might, and with noisy song 
 
 I leaped o'er their mossy side. 
 
 "But nozv the calm valley before me lay. 
 In loveliest verdure arrayed. 
 
2o8 Waiiderings, 
 
 And through it, in many a winding way, 
 While the children came to my banks to play, 
 I gayly and happily strayed. 
 
 *^ Yet forward I ran. When the day had gone, 
 
 And the world was hushed to rest, 
 Through forest and plain I still rushed on, 
 Unceasing, untiring, for sleep would not come 
 To quiet my restless breast. 
 
 " But now on the air there comes the wild 
 roar 
 Of the ocean's white-capped wave ; 
 Each moment is bearing me unto its shore; 
 I fain would retreat, yet I'm urged forth the 
 more: 
 Oh, is there no power to save?" 
 
 The song thus ceased. 
 The voice whose thrilling tone 
 Had spoken to my inmost heart was gone ; 
 The ripples danced upon the river's breast, 
 And their low murmur seemed the voice of 
 rest. 
 
Wanderings, 209 
 
 Yet far away I Jieard the ocean's roar, 
 I sazv the waves dash high upon its shore, 
 And knew the river's tranquil flow concealed 
 The voice that had its wild despair revealed. 
 
 ^ And then I thought 
 
 Of Jiuman hearts, whose tide 
 Seems ever calmly through this world to 
 
 glide, 
 Yet underneath the clear and placid breast 
 Are thoughts and feelings which can 7iever 
 
 rest, 
 And waves of anguish deep, and dark despair, 
 Roll high where oft the surface seems most 
 
 fair. 
 
 On, on I wandered, 
 Till at length I stood 
 
 Where, all around me, rose a lofty wood ; 
 Beneath an aged oak, whose branches wide 
 Cool shelter from the noonday sun supplied, 
 I laid me down, and listened to the breeze. 
 That sported gayly with the broad green 
 
 leaves. 
 
 u 
 
2 1 o Wanderings. 
 
 Yet, as I heard its gay and laughing tone, 
 To me it seemed to speak of days bygone, 
 Of many a froHc wild and revel gay 
 Within the wood, where now it breathed this 
 lay: 
 
 ** November had come, with its chilling breath ; 
 The flowers had faded, and fallen in death; 
 
 The leaves were all sere; 
 And meadow, and forest, and grove, once so gay 
 In the cheerful light of a summer's day, 
 
 Looked solemn and drear. 
 
 " The moon floated on through the star-gem- 
 med sky, 
 Like a queen riding forth in her majesty, 
 
 Stately and slow; 
 Not a cloud was sailing around her way, 
 To hide, with its folds, her placid ray 
 From the earth below. 
 
 "In the heart of the wood was a quiet glade. 
 Where the withered leaves from the trees had 
 strayed. 
 
 And lay in repose; 
 
Wandermgs. 2 1 1 
 
 But when the shadows of evening came on, 
 They woke from their slumbers, and, one by 
 one, 
 
 They gently uprose. 
 
 "The calm little glade looked pleasant and 
 
 bright 
 In the silvery glance of the queen of night; 
 
 And the leaflets all, 
 With a rustling voice, cried out to the breeze, 
 * Bring music to-night, that the forest leaves 
 May dance at their ball.' 
 
 "And the breezes came, with melodious sound, 
 And the leaves whirled round o'er the frozen 
 ground 
 
 In dances gay; 
 Then, wilder, and swifter, 07i came the breeze, 
 And wilder, and swifter, round flew the leaves 
 
 At sound of its lay. 
 
 "Dark clouds were gathering thick in the air, 
 The storm-winds upspringing fast from their lair. 
 With destroying breath ; 
 
2 1 2 Wanderings, 
 
 But the leaves heard not their wild, warning 
 
 cry, 
 As they whirled around in their revelry, 
 In their dance of death." 
 
 The air now 
 Faintly quivered, and the leaves 
 One moment trembled in the dying beeeze, 
 Thoi all was still. 
 Yet, though the zephyr's song had passed 
 
 away, 
 With me it lingered long ; 
 To me it spoke of those whom Pleasure's 
 
 power 
 Hath conquered in some unprotected hour, 
 And now, though on their ear there comes 
 
 from far 
 The sound of all-avenging Justice's car, 
 They pause not in their revels, and the cry, 
 That warns them that their end is drawing 
 
 nigh, 
 They will not hear, till Death has overthrown 
 Those idle joys for ivhicJi they lived alone. 
 
Wanderings. 213 
 
 The thought was painful, and I turned away, 
 And wandered forth in many a winding way. 
 Until I stood upon the ocean's shore, 
 And heard its billows' wild, unceasing roar. 
 The waves dashed high upon the rocky steep 
 With sound of thunder-tempest, loud and deep, 
 And as they onward came, with foaming crest, 
 And wave on wave in wild confusion pressed, 
 I looked, and listened, with delight, and stood 
 Entranced before the never-ceasing flood. 
 And as they onward rushed to waiting land, 
 And swiftly ran along the glittering sand, 
 My heart was full, and joyfully it sung 
 The thoughts, and feelings, that around it 
 clung: 
 
 " Mighty ocean, far extending, 
 Seeming with the heavens blending, 
 While the fair earth, round thee bending, 
 
 Loves to touch thy wave, 
 Thou unto my listening spirit 
 Speak'st of joys it shall inherit — 
 
 Joys beyond the grave. 
 
214 Wanderings. 
 
 " O thou great and boundless ocean ! 
 Like thy restless, endless motion, 
 So my life is all commotion 
 
 While this earth's my home; 
 But when Death shall come to take me, 
 From my troubled dream shall wake me. 
 
 Light and peace will come. 
 
 " Ocean, with thy wavelets dancing, 
 And the sunbeams round thee glancing, 
 And the vessels gayly prancing 
 On thy sparkling breast. 
 Thou art like those happy hours 
 When my life is wreathed with flowers, 
 And my longings rest. 
 
 " Like thee, when to earth returning, 
 For her smiling welcome yearning 
 Gladly all allurements spurning. 
 
 Swiftly thou dost come, 
 TJitis my heart, with earnest longing, 
 Feelings deep within it thronging, . 
 
 Nears its heavenly home. 
 
The Alpine Cataract. 215 
 
 Restless heart, be not leplning, 
 Though no sun may nozv be shining, 
 And the darkness seems entwining 
 
 Closer round thy way; 
 Soon thy home will be in Heaven, 
 Soon to thee the light be given 
 
 Of an endless day." 
 
 The Alpine Cataract, 
 
 Frenzied and raving torrent, wildly leaping 
 Adown thy rugged channel, never sleeping; 
 Bounding from crag to crag; shooting thy 
 
 spray 
 From darksome caverns into sunlit day ; 
 Grinding thy pathway through primeval rocks. 
 Which scorn of puny man the fiercest shocks ; 
 Seizing vast boulders ; with resistless blow 
 Hurling them helpless to the abyss below; 
 Tearing to shreds full many a stately pine, 
 Shot from the heights into those jaws of 
 
 thine; 
 
21 6 The Alpine Cataract, 
 
 Seizing the adventurous hunter who might 
 
 deem, 
 By nimble bounds, to span thy treacherous 
 
 stream, 
 Relentless, dashing him from stone to stone, 
 Rending his flesh, and shattering every bone ; — 
 Mysterious power, declare thy origin ! 
 Thy parent, who? Where did thy life begin? 
 
 Stranger, not always speeds my life in riot ; 
 I know the soothing spell of dreamy quiet. 
 Come to yon crystal pool, a peaceful place. 
 Where gentian stoops to see her mirrored 
 
 face. 
 And fearless insects track their curious way 
 O'er my unrippled waters, blithe and gay ; 
 Here pause we, while I tell my simple story : 
 Behold yon mountain-crests, all bleak and 
 
 hoary ; 
 There was I born. A feathery flake of snow. 
 Dubious a while if up or down to go, 
 My first germ, rested. Many a wandering 
 
 flake 
 Beside, around, its place would gently take. 
 
The Alpine Catai-acf. 2 1 7 
 
 And all along the mountain's ridge, and side, 
 Thickly we gathered. Morn, and eventide 
 Still witnessed how we thronged, and buried 
 
 deep 
 Those awful heads in cold, and silent, sleep. 
 So passed a century of winter days. 
 When, lo ! the springtide's warm, and genial, 
 
 rays 
 Lighted upon us with awakening force. 
 Drop followed drop ; the trickling watercourse 
 Joined myriads more; the dancing, sparkling 
 
 • stream 
 Flowed, joyous, onward 'neath the noonday 
 
 beam ; 
 From every gully grew the deep'ning tide ; 
 Soon swelled the torrent with tumultuous pride; 
 And /, the offspring of a snowflake light, 
 Rush on my way, invincible in might, 
 Till, spent, and wearied, long repose I take 
 Beneath the azAire of yon placid lake. 
 
 Told is my tale, but in its changeful history 
 Seest thou not shadowings of man's life of 
 mystery ? 
 
2i8 The Alpine Cataract. 
 
 Childhood, here nurtured in the wintry storm, 
 There joyous, gentle, sunny, bright, and warm; 
 Then bounding, vigorous, and impetuous Youth ; 
 Next, Manhood, tranquil in the ways of truth, 
 Or mad with greed, or swiftly borne along 
 By passion, lust of power, and zeal in wrong, 
 Reckless alike of others' weal or woe, 
 Or forced, perchance reluctantly, to know 
 The feuds, and struggles, turbulence, and strife, 
 Which fill so large a space in human life. 
 But most of all, in that, my home of rest, 
 Behold, in parable, the Christian blessed ; 
 Early or late has dawned on him the day 
 Of peace divine, which passeth not away. 
 Ofttime the God-sent boon, imparted here, 
 Has borne the world-tossed heart through 
 
 many a year, 
 While other souls such rest have only met 
 Just ere life's weary sun was doomed to set. 
 
 But, sure as God is true to all who trust. 
 Peace is the plighted portion of the just, 
 
The Mountain- Stream, 219 
 
 The work and gift of Him whose changeless 
 
 love 
 Breathes its sweet fragrance through the home 
 
 above, 
 And decks a resting-place serenely bright 
 In realms of" holy, calm, and sweet delight, 
 
 The Mountain-Stream. 
 
 Fair streamlet, running where violets grow, 
 
 Under the elm trees, murmuring low. 
 
 Rippling gently amid the grass, 
 
 I have a fancy as I pass — 
 
 I have a fancy, as I see 
 
 The trailing willows kissing thee; 
 
 As I behold the daisies pied, 
 
 The harebells nodding at thy side; 
 
 The sheep, that feed upon thy brink; 
 
 The birds, that stoop thy wave to drink; 
 
 The blooms, that tempt the bees to stray; 
 
 And all the life that tracks thy way. 
 
220 The Mountain- Stream, 
 
 I deem thou flowest through grassy meads, 
 
 To show the beauty of gentle deeds ; 
 
 To show how happy the world might be, 
 
 If men, observant, copied tJicc ; 
 
 To show how small a stream may pour 
 
 Verdure, and beauty, on either shore ; 
 
 To teach what humble men might do, 
 
 If their lives were pure, and their hearts were 
 
 true, 
 And what a wealth they might dispense 
 In modest, calm beneficence, 
 Marking their course, as thou dost thine, 
 By wayside flowers of love divine. 
 
 And when rushing, with foam, and spray, 
 
 Over the boundless in thy way. 
 
 Leaping and rolling from rock to cave, 
 
 A vast, impetuous, onward wave, 
 
 I have a fancy, as I mark 
 
 Thy fall o'er precipices dark, 
 
 As I behold thy pov»'er revealed. 
 
 And hear thy voice like thunder pealed — 
 
A Rainy Day. 221 
 
 I have a fancy, as I sit 
 Under the rock, where thy rainbows flit, 
 And Hsten to thy roar, and swell, 
 Sonorous, irresistible. 
 
 I deem thou leapest adown the rocks, 
 To show how little are fortune's shocks 
 To him, reliant, who knows his strength, 
 And measures evil, breadth, and length. 
 I deem thou flowest, to teach us still 
 That perseverance conquers ill ; 
 That no obstruction, small, or great. 
 Can daunt the soul that dares its fate; 
 That calm, true hearts, in peril's hour, 
 Confront it with superior power. 
 Here at thy side I sit, and dream 
 These fancies twain, sweet Mountain-stream. 
 
 A Rainy Day. 
 
 Rain ! rain ! rain ! 
 
 From morn till evening's fall, 
 
222 A Rainy Day, 
 
 We have upward gazed in vain ; 
 
 We can see no blue at all. 
 Above is one veil of cloud, 
 
 Leaden, and dull, and drear, 
 And the raindrops' pattering loud 
 
 Is the only sound we hear. 
 
 We cannot gather the flowers : 
 
 They are blooming all in vain ; 
 And the gems of the summer bowers 
 
 Are drowned by the pouring rain. 
 No hope of a game on the grass, 
 
 No ramble o'er moorland steep; 
 How slowly the hours must pass ! 
 
 Shall we sit us down, and weep? 
 
 Oh no ! We know better, I hope. 
 
 Than to act an ungrateful part : 
 Though somewhat narrowed our scope, 
 
 We are not narrowed in heart. 
 We'll closer draw together. 
 
 And be kinder than before, 
 While the rough and rainy weather 
 
 Shall make us love the more. 
 
A Rainy Day. 223 
 
 We have plenty of beautiful books, 
 
 And plenty of work to do, 
 And plenty of sunny looks, 
 
 That are sweeter than Heaven's own blue. 
 With a field of labor, and joy, so wide, 
 
 Not a minute shall pass in vain ; 
 And since the sunshine to-day is denied, 
 
 We'll sing of the beauties of rain. 
 
 And it Jias its beauties, rich, and rare, 
 
 Which the sunshine cannot bring. 
 Though rain makes the sunshine seem more 
 fair. 
 
 And the winter the budding spring. 
 So purer the joy in our heart that' swells 
 
 After sorrow, and grief, and pain. 
 And the Bible's own beautiful language tells 
 
 Of clear shining after rain. 
 
 Gaze on those tiny crystal balls : 
 
 Could ive fashion aught so fair? 
 And mark how the shower gently falls. 
 
 Bringing freshness everywhere. 
 
2 24 ^ Rainy Day, 
 
 And breathe the air, that awakes and plays 
 
 With the dripping leaves at will, 
 Bidding the drops dance in mirthful maze. 
 
 So sportive, and yet so still. 
 
 But there's one more beauty yet 
 
 In the rain that waters the land : 
 Let us never, never forget 
 
 'Tis the gift of a Father's hand; 
 It is sent by One who loves us more 
 
 Than the kindest of earthly friends, 
 And all is beautiful, good, and pure. 
 
 That our heavenly Father sends. 
 
 The sun shines out, and ripens the corn 
 
 In the hardened sinner's field. 
 And it bids the crops of the blest new-born 
 
 A plenteous harvest yield; 
 Sweetly, and softly, fall the showers 
 
 On the good man's garden-plot. 
 But they raise as kindly his drooping flowers 
 
 Who loveth the Giver not. 
 
 Then shall not we a lesson learn, ^ 
 
 That the raindrops, and sunbeams, teach, 
 
After the Storm. 225 
 
 And be ever ready, in our turn, 
 
 To shower our love on each — 
 On the friends that dwell in our bosom — ay, 
 
 And seem of our life a part — 
 On the ingrate ones who will ne'er repay 
 
 The warmth of a loving heart? 
 
 Rain ! rain ! rain ! 
 
 A lesso7i we've learned from thee^ 
 And thou hast not come in vain 
 
 With thy pattering melody. 
 We love the sunshine : its golden light 
 
 Never gladdens our path in vain ; 
 But when deprived of its beams so bright, 
 
 Let us sing of the beauties of rain. 
 
 After the Storm. 
 
 After the storm, a calm ; 
 After the bruise, a balm ; 
 For the ill brings good in the Lord's own time, 
 And the sigh becomes a psalm. 
 
 15 
 
2 26 After the Storm, 
 
 After the drought, the dew ; 
 After the cloud, the blue; 
 For the sky will smile in the sun's good time, 
 And the earth grow glad and new. 
 
 Bloom is the heir of blight; 
 Dawn is the child of night; 
 And the rolling change of the busy world 
 Bids the wrong yield back the right. 
 
 Under the fount of ill, 
 Many a cup doth fill, 
 And the patient lip, though it drinketh oft, 
 Finds only the bitter still. 
 
 Truth seemeth oft to sleep, 
 Blessings so slow to reap. 
 Till the hours of waiting are weary to bear, 
 And the courage is hard to keep. 
 
 Nevertheless, I know 
 Out of the dark must grow, 
 Sooner or later, whatever is fair. 
 
 Since the heavens have willed it so. 
 
spring, 227 
 
 Spring, 
 
 "" " The time of the singing of birds is come." 
 
 There's a voice from the woods : 'tis the 
 
 rushing of streams, 
 That melt in the sun's reviving beams; 
 Away from rock to rock they go, 
 Tossing their waters to and fro, 
 As if they were things of Hfe, to be 
 Awake to the feehngs of Hberty. 
 
 There's a voice from the woods; 'tis the 
 voice of flowers. 
 
 That breathe perfume from their forest bow- 
 ers, 
 
 As, peeping forth from their close retreat. 
 
 They open their leaves the spring to greet. 
 
 Hark ! another voice : 'tis the warbler's song, 
 That comes in melody, sweet, and strong, 
 From the depth of the grove, on the balmy 
 
 air, 
 The first assurance that Spring is there. 
 
2 28 Birds. 
 
 Birds. 
 
 Birds, birds ! ye are beautiful things, 
 
 With your earth-treading feet, and your cloud- 
 cleaving wings; 
 
 Where shall man wander, and where shall he 
 dwell, 
 
 Beautiful birds, that ye come not as well ? 
 
 Ye have homes on the mountain, all rugged, 
 
 and stark ; 
 Ye have homes in the forest, all tangled, and 
 
 dark; 
 Ye build, and ye brood, 'neath the cottager's 
 
 eaves. 
 And ye sleep on the sod 'mid the bonny 
 
 green leaves. 
 
 Ye hide in the heather; ye lurk in the brake; 
 
 Ye dive in the sweet flags, that shadow the lake ; 
 
 Ye skim where the stream parts the orchard- 
 decked land; 
 
 Ye dance where the foam sweeps the desolate 
 strand. 
 
Birds. 229 
 
 Beautiful birds, ye come thickly around 
 When the bud's on the branch, and the 
 
 snow's on the ground; 
 Ye come when the richest of roses flush out, 
 And ye come when the yellow leaf eddies 
 
 about. 
 
 Beautiful birds ! how the schoolboy remembers 
 The warblers that chorused his holiday 
 tune — 
 The robin, that chirped in the frosty Decem- 
 bers, 
 The blackbird, that whistled through flower- 
 crowned June ! 
 
 That schoolboy remembers his holiday ramble 
 When he pulled every blossom of palm he 
 could see. 
 When his finger was raised, as he stopped in 
 the bramble. 
 With " Hark ! there's the cuckoo ! How 
 close he must be !" 
 
2 30 The Wood - Thrush, 
 
 The Wood-Thrush. 
 
 One misty morn in springtime, when clouds 
 
 were in the sky, 
 We wandered out together, my Httle boy, 
 
 and I ; 
 We could not wait for sunshine; we yearned 
 
 to see the flowers, 
 Whose beauty had not cheered us for many 
 
 long, dark hours. 
 
 I said that it was springtime, but winter lin- 
 gered still; 
 
 We felt his breathing in the blast that blew 
 from off the hill. 
 
 And we saw his cold white garments, though 
 sadly rent, and stained. 
 
 In many a lingering patch of snow that here, 
 and there, remained. 
 
 We hunted vainly for the flowers ; they hid 
 
 themselves away, 
 And folded up their pretty robes, to wear 
 
 some brighter day ; 
 
The Wood - Thmsh. 231 
 
 But we heard the murmur of a brook, and 
 hastened where it flowed, 
 
 To see if any sign of spring its leaping wa- 
 ters showed. 
 
 E'en there the scene was cheerless ; those 
 wavelets seemed to flow 
 
 As do the languid teardrops adown the cheek 
 of woe : 
 
 While shivering trees, that stood around with 
 branches grim, and bare, 
 
 Made piteous moans, like human things op- 
 pressed with grief, and care. 
 
 The child looked sadly in my face ; his eyes 
 began to fill. 
 
 For disappointment o'er his hopes was breath- 
 ing blight, and chill ; 
 
 When, lo ! a sweet, and gladsome, sound, a 
 joy-inspiring strain. 
 
 Broke from the leafless branches near, and 
 echoed o'er the plain. 
 
232 The Wood - Thi'tish. 
 
 Louder, and clearer, rose the song; the trees 
 forgot to moan ; 
 
 The waters of the brook leaped up, and 
 caught that merry tone ; 
 
 My young companion caught it too; he clap- 
 ped his hands and smiled. 
 
 And shouted forth the happy thoughts that 
 now his heart beguiled. 
 
 Uprose that music to the clouds, and seemed 
 
 to pierce them, too, 
 For soon a little sunbeam came peeping, and 
 
 smiling, through ; 
 While murky mists, from hill and vale, crept 
 
 noiselessly away, 
 Like guilty creatures forced to flee by some 
 
 enchanter's lay. 
 
 We could not see the warbler, though we 
 
 knew that he was nigh; 
 Yet still he sought to hide himself from each 
 
 admiring eye, 
 
The Wood - Thrush. 233 
 
 Like rare, and modest, natures, that, still un- 
 seen, pursue 
 
 The pure, and noble, duties God sets for 
 them to do. 
 
 We could not see the warbler, yet well I 
 
 knew his voice : 
 Its carol many a time before had bid my 
 
 heart rejoice; 
 And I told my young companion the history 
 
 of the bird. 
 Whose joyous notes still o'er our heads in 
 
 every pause we heard. 
 
 I told about its form, and hue, its plumage, 
 and its name, 
 
 And how, at early springtime, so punctually 
 it came, 
 
 From Southern groves, to build its nest with- 
 in our colder bowers. 
 
 And cheer us, with its music, through all the 
 summer hours. 
 
234 ^'^^^ Wood-TJiriish. 
 
 "And now, my darling child," said I, "mark 
 
 what I've yet to tell 
 About this woodland songster, and ponder 
 
 o'er it well : 
 He does not get discouraged, hke a foolish 
 
 little boy, 
 When he can see before him no prospect 
 
 bright with joy. • 
 
 ^'But with the pure devotion, that warms a 
 
 loving heart, 
 He seeks, amid misfortune, some comfort to 
 
 impart ; 
 When still the sky is darkest, the day most 
 
 dull, and drear. 
 He pours abroad his melody, to gladden, and 
 
 to cheer." 
 
 My listener marked the lesson. He found no 
 
 flowers that day, 
 But richer was he going home, than when he 
 
 came away, 
 
A Praise- Meeting of the Birds. 235 
 
 For his little heart remembered, full faithfully, 
 
 and long, 
 The beautiful example of the wood-bird's 
 
 cheerful sonsr. 
 
 A Praise-Meeting of the Birds. 
 
 The Eagle called a council. 
 As became the king of birds. 
 
 And summoned all the feathered tribe 
 To listen to his words. 
 
 From far and near were gathered 
 
 The ''fowls of the air ^ 
 And all with one consenting voice 
 
 Moved he should take the chair. 
 
 After due pause, and pluming 
 
 Of each far-reaching wing, 
 He said, ** I called you, brothers. 
 
 For praise and worshipping. 
 
 '' From my bleak eyrie, mountain high, 
 I see the earth outspread, 
 I see the opening of the Hand 
 By which we all are fed. 
 
^3^ A Praise- Meeting of the Birds, 
 
 " I feel God's power in the wings 
 Which bear me up so high, 
 Nearer, still nearer, the bright sun 
 That smiles in the deep sky. 
 
 " Upon the crags of rocks I dwell, 
 Afar 7mue eyes behold, 
 Through all the swiftly-passing day, 
 Creation manifold. 
 
 " And / t/imk the birds now gathered here 
 Can find enough to tell, 
 To show the careless sons of men 
 That ' God doth all things well.' " 
 
 Just here a pert brisk Sparrow 
 His chirping voice would raise : 
 " Why, sir, each dawn and close of day 
 We greet with songs of praise ! 
 
 " But as for zvorship " — reverent grew 
 
 The tiny brilliant eyes- 
 ** Sure, every moment that we live 
 
 Fresh cause for that supplies. 
 
A Praise-Meeting of the Birds. 237 
 
 " Our Father's hand is everywhere ; 
 How could we live at all 
 Did not His ever-watchful eye 
 ^ Mark em a sparrow's fait' f^ 
 
 " 'Tis true," replied the monarch bird ; 
 '* Yet let this meeting be 
 One of especiat praise, that man 
 Our gratitude may see. 
 
 " He oft owns not the Providence 
 Who leads him on his path ; 
 The teachings of his Father's love 
 He spurns in fear and wrath. 
 
 ** As well my nestlings might rebel 
 
 Against my care when I 
 * Stir up the nest ' and bear them forth 
 Their feeble wings to try. 
 
 " / praise God for the mountains, 
 For the rugged peaks I praise. 
 Where my young eaglets spring to life 
 Beneath the sun's broad gaze. 
 
238 A Praise- Meeting of the Birds, 
 
 *'And when the tempest rages 
 Around me in the vale, 
 To seek my home I dare the storm 
 And rise above the gale. 
 
 *' I bless Him for earth's grandeur, 
 Each lonely, silent height. 
 Where courage firm, and strength are learned 
 In heaven's blaze of light." 
 
 " / bless Him for the valleys," 
 
 Now cooed ihe gentle Dove, 
 ** For darkling groves and murmurous streams, 
 
 And sweet domestic love. 
 
 "And for the quiet heart I bless, 
 That rests in full content, 
 Knowing all chances must be good 
 That by His love are sent. 
 
 " For the quiet heart and spirit meek 
 That make my happiness. 
 And a memory sweet that hath the power 
 The darkest hours to bless. 
 
A Praise- Meeting of the Birds. 239 
 
 " 'Twas ' as a Dove the Spirit came ' 
 Down from the opening skies, 
 And a Dove it was, who brought the branch 
 To gladden Noah's eyes. 
 
 *' What deeper joy hath earth than this — 
 A tender, grateful heart, 
 That gathers from love's central light 
 Bright sun-rays to impart 
 
 "To all who have the eyes to see 
 The word that God has writ 
 Upon all Nature's open page, 
 For men to ponder it ? 
 
 ** I thank our Lord for purity, 
 Content and gentleness ; 
 For holy memories and for peace ; 
 For these, for these, I bless." 
 
 " And I for the dashing billows 
 That do my food provide," 
 Cried the Sea-gull, " and for the wild winds 
 Whereon I gayly ride." 
 
240 A Praise- Meeting of the Birds, 
 
 " I bless him for the morning," 
 
 Crowed gorgeous Chanticleer — 
 
 " For the first beams of joyous day, 
 After night's darksome fear." 
 
 "And for His care that guards us," 
 Chimed in the plain brown Hen — 
 
 "The care that fain would keep as safe 
 The wayward sons of men; 
 
 " And for the chicks that gather 
 Beneath my brooding wings ; 
 For the farmyard and the roadside. 
 And all earth's common things." 
 
 " Here I am, singing yet," then sang 
 The little Meadow-Lark 
 As he rose circling in the air, 
 A small melodious spark. 
 
 " I thank God for the meadows green. 
 And for the sky's clear blue ; 
 For these I praise Him morn and eve 
 The whole long summer through. 
 
A Praise- Meeting of the Birds. 241 
 
 " When the first dawn of early day 
 Tinges the eastern sky 
 My heart is full of praise, and so 
 My sweetest songs I try. 
 
 " Fain would I reach Heaven's pearly gate, 
 My grateful hymn to raise ; 
 Fain would I pour my whole life forth 
 In one long song of praise." 
 
 Then the blithe wee birds sang with her: 
 " We praise God that we live ; 
 
 And for all the food and raiment 
 That He himself doth give. 
 
 " For sunshine after shower, 
 
 For Summer, Spring and Fall, 
 For day-dawn and for evening, — 
 We thank Thee, Lord, for all. 
 
 " And the birds which migrate bless Thee 
 For guiding us aright 
 When, at thy summons given. 
 We take our mystic flight. 
 
 16 
 
242 A Praise- Meeting of the Birds. 
 
 " Urged by a vague strange longing, 
 We flee from storm and cold; 
 O'er mountains, seas and forests 
 Our onward course we hold. 
 
 *' We know not why we wander. 
 Thou biddest; we obey. 
 And through the pathless azure 
 Follow the appointed way. 
 
 " We trust Thee ; and Thy answer 
 Smiles in the summer sun, 
 That warms us into vigor 
 When the far goal is won. 
 
 " Ah ! if ive stayed to question, 
 To prove, to understand, 
 Winter and Death would seize us 
 In the forbidden land." 
 
 Then said the Swalloavs, " Where we go 
 
 No man hath ever known ; 
 At God's high bidding speed we forth ; 
 
 Our secret is our own. 
 
A Praise- Meeting of the Birds, 243 
 
 " He knows, and brings us safely back 
 With the Spring's early buds — 
 Back to the eaves, the cliffs, the shores, 
 Back to the same dear woods." 
 
 The Robin sang among the leaves 
 While fell the gentle shower, 
 
 Refreshing all the herbs and grass, 
 And every tiny flower: 
 
 " I know the clouds full soon shall pass, 
 The sun again shall shine, 
 And so the cheerful news I tell 
 To this sweet mate of mine. 
 
 " The very winds that rock our tree 
 Make our clasp more secure : 
 I know calm followeth after storm, 
 So cheerily I endure. 
 
 " I sing of hope, which never dies ; 
 Of tinist, that never fails ; 
 Of courage^ steady and serene : 
 These are my chosen tales. 
 
244 ^ Praise- Meeting of the Birds, 
 
 " And while the sun shall follow rain, 
 And day-dawn chase the night, 
 No Robin e'er shall cease the strain 
 That springs from his delight; 
 
 " But, blessing God for all He gives, 
 Confiding in His care, 
 Shall shozv the world a trusting heart 
 Is happy everywhere." 
 
 *' YotL praise for Life, for Love, for Light, 
 But we praise God for Death," 
 Broke in the Vulture's hoarse, rough voice ; 
 And the small birds held their breath. 
 
 " We are earth's purifiers : feared 
 And half disdained we are. 
 Yet are the agents that can save 
 In pestilence and war. 
 
 "We speak, that all may learn to know 
 Naught that the Lord has made 
 But has its use, its claim to life. 
 If claims are fairly weighed. 
 
A Praise- Meeting of the Birds. 245 
 
 *' We follow ever in the train 
 Of Death the merciful, 
 When Want and Pain release their prey, 
 And eye and heart wax dull. 
 
 " In the wide desert's yellow reach, 
 Beneath the brazen sky, 
 God sends 7is forth to seek our food 
 And earth to purify. 
 
 " His purposes not less we serve 
 Than dainty birds and flowers, 
 Though a sad sombreness still clouds 
 These busy lives of ours. 
 
 " All birds — ah, yes, and mankind too — 
 Shudder for dread of Death, 
 And fondly cling to this poor life 
 With every failing breath. 
 
 ** But think what this wide world would be 
 If time could onward roll. 
 And from Pain's clutches. Death could ne'er 
 Release the hungering soul ! 
 
2/^6 A Praise- Meeting of the Birds, 
 
 " We praise for Death ! The Owl there, 
 But that he hates the h'ght, 
 He, I am sure, would raise his voice 
 To bless God for the night. 
 
 " Be sure His works are wholly good ; 
 His purposes too grand 
 For any finite thought of ours 
 Fully to understand." 
 
 The melancholy Heron then, 
 
 And all the birds akin, 
 Gave thanks for all the haunts that they 
 
 Love most to harbor in — 
 
 The grave and darksome pools ; the dank. 
 Hollow, wind-whispering reeds ; 
 
 The green morass, wherein they find 
 All that their nature needs. 
 
 *' We come from a stern, ancient race. 
 Hard-working birds," said they ; 
 
 " We toiled to fit the earth for man, 
 But now we pass away." 
 
A Praise- Meeting of the Birds. 247 
 
 *' We could not see our labors end, 
 Nor what they should fulfill ; 
 The purpose of our life was reached 
 In furthering God's will." 
 
 Then said the Stork : " I journey 
 From the red old river Nile, 
 
 To where the meadows of the Rhine 
 Among his mountains smile. 
 
 " And to and fro for ages 
 
 Hath been our steady flight; 
 But the same Power that bade us go 
 Hath guided us aright. 
 
 " He cares for all His creatures ; 
 * He doeth all things well,' 
 As those who love and trust Him most 
 Most certainly can tell." 
 
 Here spoke the lofty Ostrich : 
 
 ^'My faith my acts attest; 
 I leave my eggs at His command 
 
 In their white sandy nest. 
 
24.S A Praise- Meeting of the Birds. 
 
 " ' Scorning the rider and his horse/ 
 Across the land I fly; 
 The fiery coursers of the winds 
 Are scarce more swift than I. 
 
 " He knoweth I must seek my food 
 Through many a barren plain, 
 So guards my treasures while I go, 
 And gives them me again. 
 
 " I bless him for His gracious care 
 In all that He hath done — 
 And for the desert white and still, 
 And for the hot, bright sun." 
 
 *' Nay," said the Snowbird's cheerful note, 
 " 'He givctJi snozv like zuool,' 
 A blanket for the world, that so 
 Her harvests may be full. 
 
 " It lies o'er the earth's brown bosom, 
 A mantle light, soft and warm ; 
 Folding all growing herbs away 
 
 From the Frost-Kinj^'s chillincr harm. 
 
A Praise- Meeting of the Birds. 249 
 
 " And though my food be somewhat spare, 
 * Close picking makes it sweet ;' 
 And my cheerful note sounds blithe and gay 
 Through the narrow city street. 
 
 " For I sing, though storm and cold be hard, 
 Yet precious fruits they bring 
 When the long cold Winter leaves the earth 
 Unto the rule of Spring. 
 
 " The germ of all the leafage green 
 Lies folded on the bough, 
 Resting in patient hopefulness, 
 Though you cannot see it now. 
 
 " Exhausted Nature 'neath the snow 
 Is resting in calm sleep, 
 Waiting God's voice to summon her 
 Forth from her slumbers deep : 
 
 "And in the rush of Spring's wild winds, 
 In roaring waterfall, 
 She hears her Master's voice, and comes 
 Obedient to His call : 
 
250 A Praise- Meeting of the Birds. 
 
 " And decks herself with modest flowers, 
 And calls her sweet birds back, 
 While the bright sunbeams laugh and dance 
 Behind old Winter's track. 
 
 "I am the Snow-King's harbinger; 
 And love him, for I know 
 The stern cold blessing that he brings. 
 The blessing of the snow." 
 
 Amid the reverent silence then 
 A clear sweet note was heard, 
 
 The soft, melodious, flute-like voice 
 Of Afric's " Gospel Bird :" 
 
 " / bring a zvondjvtis tale to you : 
 Oh listen, while I tell, 
 And bear it onward in your flight 
 For men to ponder well. 
 
 " I come from a far land of wealth, 
 Where smiling Nature stands 
 To pour her hidden treasures forth 
 To all deserving hands. 
 
A Praise- Meeting of the Birds. 251 
 
 " And Africa to all her sons 
 
 Cries, ' Oh ! return to home ! 
 Afar you languish, starve and die ; 
 Here is your birthright — come! 
 
 " * Come with your lessons, hardly learned 
 Through years of wasted toil ; 
 I wait to crown your efforts here 
 In my rich laughing soil. 
 
 " And bring the gospel's wondrous tale 
 To man, of Love Divine, 
 That its blessing may increase and glow 
 In this fair land of mine. 
 
 *' * Not strangers — cliildren coming home 
 To find a welcome free !' 
 This is the tale that Africa 
 Entrusted unto me. 
 
 "And so, where'er my wings I fold, • 
 I sing that all may know — 
 And oft where there are none to hear — 
 * Go ! preach the gospel ! go !' 
 
252 A Praise- Meeting of the Birds, 
 
 " For all who live, so runs the rune 
 That in God's works we trace, 
 His watching love provides a use, 
 And a fitting dwelling-place. 
 
 " So, e'er we part to meet no more, 
 Let us with loud acclaim 
 Unite to praise the Lord our God, 
 And magnify His name. 
 
 " Ye winds and waters, lend your voice 
 To swell the rich accord ; 
 All creatures that His hand hath made. 
 Praise ye, praise ye, the Lord." 
 * * * * ^ * * 
 
 After a pause, the Eagle said. 
 
 With his broad pinions half outspread : 
 
 " Thou blessed bird ! Oh, not in vain 
 Is heard that constant eager strain : 
 The message of a Love Divine 
 Shall spread through all that land of thine, 
 Until the powers of darkness fly 
 Like Night before Day's glowing eye. 
 
To a Sea-GtclL 253 
 
 " Oh yes ! 710 power has e'er withstood 
 The quiet force of Love and Good : 
 Slowly but surely on they speed, 
 As springs toward heaven the tiny seed, 
 And stretches wide its shade to bless 
 The wanderers in the wilderness. 
 
 ''Sweet bird, still sing thy Heaven-taught lay 
 Until shall dawn that glorious day, 
 When, in the gospel truth made free, 
 Thy land hath no more need of thee, 
 Thou prophet voice ! who urges so, 
 
 * Go ! preach the gospel ! go !' " 
 
 To A Sea -Gull. 
 
 White bird of the tempest! Oh, beautiful 
 
 thing, 
 With the bosom of snow, and the motionless 
 
 wing; 
 
254 To a Sea-Gttll. 
 
 Now sweeping the billow, now floating on 
 
 high, 
 Now bathing thy plumes in the light of the 
 
 sky; 
 Now poising o'er ocean thy delicate form, 
 Now breasting the surge with thy bosom so 
 
 warm; 
 Now darting aloft with a heavenly scorn. 
 Now shootmg along, like a ray of the morn ; 
 Now lost in the folds of the cloud-curtained 
 
 dome, 
 Now floating abroad, like a flake of the foam; 
 Now silently poised o'er the war of the main, 
 Like the spirit of Charity brooding o'er pain; 
 Now gliding with pinion all noiselessly furled, 
 Like an angel descending to comfort the 
 
 world ; — 
 Thou seem'st to my fancy, as upward I gaze, 
 And see thee, now clothed in the mellowest 
 
 rays, 
 Now lost in the storm-driven vapors, that fly, 
 Like hosts that are routed, across the broad 
 
 sky, 
 
To a Sea - Gull. 255 
 
 Like a pure spirit true to its virtue, and faith, 
 'Midst the tempests of nature, of passion, and 
 death. 
 
 Rise, beautiful emblem of purity, rise, 
 
 On the sweet winds of heaven, to thine own 
 
 brilliant skies, 
 Still higher, still higher, till, lost to our sight, 
 Thou hidest thy wings in a mantle of light, 
 And I think how a bright spirit, gazing on 
 
 thee, 
 Must long for the moment, the joyous and 
 
 free, 
 When the soul, disembodied from nature, shall 
 
 spring, 
 Unfettered, at once to her Maker and King; 
 When, the long day of service and suffering 
 
 past. 
 Shapes fairer than thine shall shine round her 
 
 at last, 
 While, the standard of battle triumphantly 
 
 furled. 
 She smiles like a victor serene on the world. 
 
256 Consider the Lilies. 
 
 Consider the Lilies of the Field. 
 
 Flowers preach to us if we will hear. 
 The rose saith in the dewy morn, 
 
 " I am most fair, 
 Yet all my loveliness is borne 
 
 Upon a thorn." 
 The poppy saith, "Amid the corn 
 Let but my scarlet head appear, 
 
 And I am held in scorn ; 
 Yet juice of subtle virtue hes 
 Within my cup of curious dyes." 
 The lilies say, " Behold how we 
 Preach, without words, of purity !" 
 The violets whisper from the shade 
 Which their own leaves have made, 
 *' Men scent our fragrance on the air, 
 Yet take no heed 
 Of humble lessons we would read.'* 
 
 But not alone the fairest flowers : 
 
 The merest grass 
 Along the roadside where we pass. 
 
Praise -Meeting of the Flowers. 257 
 
 Lichen, and moss, and sturdy weed, 
 Tell of His love who sends the dew, 
 The rain, and sunshine, too, 
 
 To nourish one small seed. 
 
 The Praise -Meeting of the 
 Flowers. 
 
 The flowers of many climates, 
 That bloom all seasons through, 
 
 Met in a stately garden 
 
 Bright with the morning dew. 
 
 For praise and loving worship 
 The Lord they came to meet ; 
 
 Her box of precious ointment 
 The Rose brake at His feet. 
 
 The Passion-flower His symbols 
 Wore fondly on her breast; 
 
 She spoke of self-denial 
 
 As what might please Him best. 
 
 17 
 
258 Praise -Meeting of the Flowers, 
 
 The Morning-glories fragile, 
 
 Like infants soon to go, 
 Had dainty, toy-like trumpets, 
 And praised the Master so. 
 
 *' His word is like to honey," 
 
 The Clover testified, 
 **And all who trust Thy promise 
 
 Shall in Thy love abide." 
 
 The Lilies said, "Oh, trust Him! 
 
 We neither toil nor spin, 
 And yet His house of beauty 
 
 See how we enter in." 
 
 The King-cup and her kindred 
 Said, " Let us all be glad 
 
 Of His redundant sunshine; 
 Behold how we are clad!" 
 
 "And let us follow Jesus," 
 
 The Star of Bethlehem said. 
 And all the band of flowers 
 Bent down with reverent head. 
 
Praise 'Meeting of the Flowers. 259 
 
 The glad Sun-flgwer answered, 
 
 And little Daisies bright, 
 And all the cousin Asters, 
 "We follow toward the light!" 
 
 "We praise Him for the mountains," 
 
 The Alpine Roses cried; 
 "We bless Him for the valleys," 
 
 The Violets replied. 
 
 "We praise Him," said the Air-plants, 
 
 " For breath we never lack ;" 
 "And for the rocks we praise Him," 
 The Lichens answered back. 
 
 " We praise God for the waters," 
 The salt Sea-mosses sighed ; 
 And all His baptized Lilies 
 " Amen ! amen !" replied, 
 
 " And for the cool green woodlands 
 We praise and thanks return," 
 Said Kalmias, and Azaleas, 
 And graceful Feathery-fern. 
 
26o Praise -Meeting of the Flowers, 
 
 "And for the wealth of gardens, 
 And all the gardener thinks," 
 Said Roses, and Camellias, 
 
 And all the sweet- breathed Pinks. 
 
 " Hosanna in the highest !" 
 The baby Bluets sang; 
 And little trembling Harebells 
 
 With softest music ran 
 
 "The winter hath been bitter. 
 But sunshine follows storm; 
 Thanks for His loving-kindness. 
 The Earth's great heart is warm." 
 
 So sang the pilgrim's May-flower, 
 That Cometh after snow — 
 
 The humblest, and the sweetest. 
 Of all the flowers that blow. 
 
 "Thank God for every weather — 
 The sunshine, and the wet," 
 Spake out the cheering Pansies, 
 And darling Mignonette. 
 
Praise -Meeting of the Flowers, 261 
 
 And then the sun descended, 
 The heavens were all aglow; 
 
 The little Morning-glories 
 Had faded long ago. 
 
 And now the bright day Lilies 
 
 Their love-watch ceased to keep; 
 He giveth," said the Poppies, 
 "To His beloved, sleep." 
 
 The gray of evening deepened, 
 The soft wind stirred the corn. 
 
 When, sudden, in the garden, 
 Another flower was born. 
 
 It was the Evening-primrose; 
 
 Her sisters followed fast; 
 With perfumed lips they whispered, 
 "Thank God for night at last!" 
 
262 Consider the Lilies. 
 
 Consider the Lilies. 
 
 The welcome flowers are blossoming, 
 
 In joyous troops revealed ; 
 They lift their dewy buds, and bells, 
 
 In garden, mead, and field; 
 They lurk in every sunless path, 
 
 Where forest children tread ; 
 They dot, like stars, the sacred turf, 
 
 Which lies above the dead. 
 
 They sport with every playful wind. 
 
 That stirs the blooming trees. 
 And laugh on every fragrant bush. 
 
 All full of toiling bees ; 
 From the green marge of lake, and stream. 
 
 Fresh vale, and mountain-sod. 
 They look, in gentle glory, forth, 
 
 The pure, sweet flowers of God. 
 
 They come, with genial airs, and skies, 
 In summer's golden prime, 
 
Consider the Lilies. 263 
 
 And to the stricken world give back 
 
 Lost Eden's blissful clime ; 
 Outshining Solomon they come, 
 
 And go full soon away, 
 But yet, like him, they meekly breathe 
 
 True wisdom while they stay. 
 
 ** If God," they whisper, " smiles on us. 
 
 And bids us bloom, and shine. 
 Does he not mark, O faithless man ! 
 
 Each wish, and want, of thine? 
 Think, too, what joys await in heaven 
 
 The blest of human birth. 
 When rapture, such as woos thee now, 
 
 Can reach the bad on earth !" 
 
 Redeemer of a fallen race, 
 
 Most merciful of kings, 
 Thy hallowed words have clothed with power 
 
 Those frail and beauteous things ; 
 All taught by Thee, they yearly speak 
 
 Their message of deep love. 
 Bidding us fix, for life, and death, 
 
 Our hearts, and hopes, above. 
 
264 Trees. 
 
 Evening Thought. 
 
 The evening zephyr, on its wings, 
 The sigh of recollection brings 
 
 For days, and seasons, past; 
 And with it, too, a voice it bears : 
 "Trust to your God your hopes, and cares^ 
 Your fears^ your comforts, and your prayers^ 
 
 While days, and seasons, last." 
 
 Trees. 
 
 A CONSTANT joy of eye, and ear, 
 
 O stately trees ! are ye, 
 Whether, with tapering branches bare, 
 Ye shiver in the wintry air, 
 
 Or in spring's vigorous ecstasy 
 
 Your leaflets laugh in glee. 
 
 When all the earth is white with snow. 
 And with a mighty hand 
 
Trees. 265 
 
 The Storm-king sweeps each trembling bough 
 Until the mournful murmurs grow 
 
 To diapasons, swelling grand 
 
 Through all the listening land, 
 
 Then throbs my heart with keen delight. 
 
 Like you, the storms I dare; 
 Like you, I struggle toward the light, 
 Though oft, in some tempestuous night. 
 
 My soul has shivered, weak, and bare. 
 
 In sorrowful despair. 
 
 When fled is winter's numbing cold. 
 
 And beneath skies serene 
 You feel life's pulses manifold 
 Strive upward, until, all unrolled. 
 
 Each leaflet waves its tender green 
 
 In the sun's golden sheen, 
 
 Then to my heart your whispers mild 
 
 Instill a hopeful faith; 
 All vain regrets, all longings v/ild, 
 Are hushed, and, like a wearied child, 
 
2 66 Aittumn in the Woods. 
 
 Who smiles amid his sobbing breath, 
 I watch life conquer death. 
 
 And when, in glorious autumn days, 
 
 I mark your rich estate. 
 As if the sun, through sumptuous haze. 
 Had bathed you in his setting blaze, 
 
 To crown and consecrate. 
 
 While tranquilly you wait, 
 
 I catch from you a courage high ; 
 
 And as your leaves I see, 
 It seems as it were grand to die 
 While duties done behind us lie, 
 And, rich in holiest virtues, we 
 Drop gently from life's tree. 
 
 Autumn in the Woods. 
 
 Every hollow full of ferns. 
 Turning yellow in their turns; 
 
Autumn in the Woods, 267 
 
 Straggling brambles, fierce, and wild, 
 Yielding berries to the child; 
 Oakballs tumbling fi-om the tree, 
 Beech-nuts dropping silently; 
 Hosts of leaves come down to die. 
 Leaving openings to the sky- 
 Bluebells, foxgloves, gone to seed. 
 Everything to death decreed ; 
 Nothing left of flowers, or buds; — 
 Such is autumn in the woods. 
 
 And so is there an autumn known 
 
 To the heart. It feels alone. 
 
 Fearing its best days are past; 
 
 Sees the future overcast; 
 
 Fond acquaintance broken through ; 
 
 Friends departed, friends untrue ; 
 
 Human flowers, cold, and dead, 
 
 Covered by a grassy bed ; 
 
 Hopes, late blossoms putting out, 
 
 Withering soon, and flung about 
 
 By cruel winds ; dread doubts, and fears. 
 
 Finding vent in sudden tears; 
 
268 The AuHcmn Forest 
 
 Yes, there is an autumn, known 
 To some hearts thus left alone. 
 
 Yet, there's this thought, after all: 
 Ferns may fade, and leaves may fall. 
 Hearts may change, or prove untrue. 
 All may look as these woods do. 
 Though sad autumn here is given, 
 Spring-time waits the just in heaven. 
 
 The Autumn Forest. 
 
 Resplendent hues are thine. 
 Triumphant beauty, glorious as brief, 
 Burdening with holy love the heart's pure 
 shrine, 
 
 Till tears afford relief. 
 
 What though thy depths be hushed? 
 More eloquent in breathless silence thou 
 Than when the music of glad songsters gushed 
 
 From every green-robed bough. 
 
The Atitumn Forest. 269 
 
 Gone from thy walks the flowers ! 
 Thou askest not their forms thy paths to 
 
 fleck; 
 The dazzHng radiance of these sunHt bowers 
 Their hues could not bedeck. 
 
 I love thee in the spring, 
 Earth-crowning forest, when, amid thy shades. 
 The gentle south first waves her odorous 
 wing. 
 
 And joy fills all the glades. 
 
 In the hot summer-time 
 With deep delight thy sombre aisles I roam, 
 Or, soothed by some cool brook's melodious 
 chime. 
 
 Rest on thy verdant loam. 
 
 But oh, when autumn's hand 
 Hath marked thy beauteous foliage for the 
 
 grave, 
 How doth thy splendor, as, entranced, I stand. 
 My willing heart enslave! 
 
270 The Fallen Leaf. 
 
 I linger, then, with thee, 
 Like some fond lover o'er his stricken bride, 
 Whose bright, unearthly beauty tells that she 
 
 Here may not long abide. 
 
 When my last hours are come. 
 Great God! ere yet life's span shall all be 
 
 filled. 
 And these warm lips in death be ever dumb. 
 
 This beating heart be stilled. 
 
 Bathe Thou in hues as blest; 
 Let gleams of heaven about my spirit play. 
 So shall my soul to its eternal rest 
 
 In glory pass away. 
 
 The Fallen Leaf. 
 
 Silent leaf of autumn. 
 Dropping from the bough, 
 
 What a tender teacher 
 Of the truth art thou! 
 
The Fallen Leaf. 271 
 
 Upon thee is written 
 
 Wisdom deep and true, 
 More than many sages 
 
 Ever taught, or knew. 
 
 Under thee are hidden 
 
 Mysteries divine, 
 All thy life a lesson. 
 
 And thy death a sign. 
 
 Thou hast done thy duty 
 
 Where thy lot was laid. 
 Decked thy tree with beauty, 
 
 Comforted with shade. ^ 
 
 Over life's beginnings. 
 
 In each tender shoot, 
 Over bud and blossom. 
 
 Over swelling fruit. 
 
 Warding off the tempest 
 
 That against thee beat, 
 Softening the sunshine's 
 
 Too excessive heat. ^-. 
 
272 The Fallen Leaf, 
 
 Outer air inspiring, 
 Light and gentle dew 
 
 Drinking in, life's being 
 Daily to renew. 
 
 Breathing back its perfume 
 From the secret cells 
 
 Where thy hidden gladness 
 Delicately dwells. 
 
 Underneath thy shelter 
 Lay the downy nest; 
 
 Beasts in summer noontides 
 Came to thee for rest. 
 
 Happy hearts, and voices, 
 Rang in youthful glee, 
 
 Playing 'neath the shadow 
 Of thy stately tree, 
 
 While the old, and weary, 
 Rested in the shade 
 
 Which the whispering thousands 
 Of thy kindred made. 
 
The Fallen Leaf. 273 
 
 One, amid those thousand 
 
 Thousands of thy kind, 
 Underneath thee only 
 
 None could shelter find. 
 
 But love's sweet communion 
 
 Made the perfect bough, 
 And a part essential 
 
 Of its wealth wast thou. 
 
 Now J thy Springtide over, 
 
 Now, thy Summer fled. 
 Thou art gently gathered 
 
 Down amid the dead, 
 
 Falling with soft rustle 
 
 On their mother's breast. 
 Very little bustle 
 
 Laying thee to rest. 
 
 Sad autumnal sighings 
 
 Now for burial lay 
 Thee with the companions 
 
 Of thy summer day. 
 
 18 
 
274 The Fall 671 Leaf, 
 
 And the feet of heedless 
 
 Daily passers-by 
 In thy grave compose thee 
 
 All unconsciously. 
 
 Yet thy death is thoughtful: 
 Life, that never dies, 
 
 Hath its claim upon thee, 
 And thou shalt arise. 
 
 Wrapped around the fibres 
 Of that stately tree. 
 
 Once more with its being 
 Mingled thou shalt be. 
 
 Till the time appointed 
 Waiting in the dust — 
 
 Waiting in the quiet 
 Confidence of trust 
 
 Till the angel-trumpet 
 
 Of God's spring shall call. 
 
 Of thy resurrection 
 Sure as of thy fall. 
 
The Fallen Leaf, 275 
 
 Silent leaf of autumn, 
 Dropping from the bough, 
 
 What a touching teacher 
 Of God's truth art thou ! 
 
 Though to human senses 
 
 Passionless and dumb, 
 How the life that now is 
 
 Talks of that to come ! 
 
 Teaching truths mysterious 
 From what round us lies. 
 
 And, through earthly shadows. 
 Heaven's realities ; 
 
 Preaching better sermons, 
 
 To the point more near. 
 Than it is one's fortune 
 
 Oft from men to hear; 
 
 Home to the affections 
 
 Striking straight and true, 
 
 Until souls believe them, 
 And, believing, do ; 
 
276 The Fallen Leaf. 
 
 Life, with its beginnings, 
 Waking out of death 
 
 At the gentle stirrings 
 Of the Spirit's breath; 
 
 Life, with its renewals, 
 Daily, fresh, and free. 
 
 Fed by its communion 
 With the living Tree; 
 
 Life, with all the duties 
 Of life's mystic plan, 
 
 Giving, and receiving. 
 Gifts for God, and man; 
 
 Life, with the resigning 
 Of its sacred trust. 
 
 Laying down its body, 
 Hopeful, in the dust, 
 
 Certain of the morning. 
 When it shall awake, 
 
 And the glorious body 
 Of its Saviour take; 
 
Leafless Tj^ees. 277 
 
 Certain of the springtide, 
 
 When it shall arise, 
 And in better beauty 
 
 Blossom for the skies. 
 
 Silent leaf of autumn, 
 
 Dropping from thy tree. 
 These the sacred lessons 
 
 That I learn from thee. 
 
 Train me, O my Father! 
 
 m 
 
 In their Heavenly lore ; 
 On unto perfection 
 Lead me evermore. 
 
 Leafless Trees. 
 
 "These leafless trees," said Thoreau, "remind one of a 
 tempted soul, who, through long delay and many struggles, 
 will yet come forth from his temptation." — " Rather," said 
 his companion, "they are like the tried and afflicted soul, 
 who comes in darkness to the close of life, but will soon 
 emerge into the brightness and glory of heaven." 
 
 Leafless, and stripped, all bare, yet whole, 
 They symbolize the Christian's soul. 
 
278 Leafless Trees. 
 
 Whose earthly course is wellnigh o'er, 
 
 Waiting for entrance at the door. 
 
 A living verdure underlies 
 
 What seems so dead to mortal eyes, 
 
 Though what they seem, or what have been, 
 
 Is naught, so there is life within. 
 
 Their roots are grounded, strong, and firm, 
 'Gainst autumn's blast, or winter's storm, 
 And well defined their outlines lie 
 Against the background of the sky, 
 A type most plain, for all to see. 
 Of what the Christian's life should be; 
 Distinct and clear, that all may trace 
 His shadow and abiding-place. 
 
 Ah, leafless trees ! to every heart 
 
 A faithful lesson ye impart ; 
 
 The budding of your early spring, 
 
 Your summer days of blossoming, 
 
 The flushing of your autumn dyes. 
 
 Ne'er brought you quite so near the skies 
 
 As now, when, desolate, ye seem 
 
 Against the heaven itself to lean. 
 
Leafless Trees. 279 
 
 Thus all life's crowns are cast aside, 
 All ornaments of human pride, 
 When, passing underneath the rod, 
 Naked we stand in sight of God; 
 Not blasted, only stripped, and bare, 
 That we may know how frail we are. 
 And that our strength again must flow 
 From Him whose touch has laid us low. 
 
 Though leafless now, and stripped, and bared, 
 
 Your symmetry is still unmarred, 
 
 And mutely, through the silent air, 
 
 Each branch is upward stretched, in prayer 
 
 To Him who, with a Father's eye, 
 
 Still watches o'er it from the sky, 
 
 And from His storehouse forth will bring 
 
 Fresh verdure at the touch of spring. 
 
 Though now keen, wintry winds may blow, 
 
 And every branch be wrapped in snow. 
 
 Still are ye, to the Father's sight, 
 
 All beauteous, in your robes of white; 
 
 Or if the rain, with chilling breeze. 
 
 In gems on every branch shall freeze, 
 
28o Leafless Trees. 
 
 Beaming to thousand wondering eyes 
 The rainbow's heaven-illumined dyes, 
 
 Still shall that diamond frost-work bright 
 Gleam glorious in the Father's sight; 
 And when this icy coat of death 
 Shall yield before the south wind's breath, 
 Melting into the hardened bole, 
 As melts God's word into the soul, 
 Then shall ye all your strength renew, 
 When spring's bright sunshine beams anew. 
 
 Blest Spirit! let the leafless tree 
 But whisper of the life in Thee, 
 Humbly the lesson may we take 
 In all to live for Christ's dear sake; 
 Give Him the blossoms of our spring; 
 To Him our first-fruits ever bring — 
 Our summer strength, in all its prime, 
 And glory of our autumn-time. 
 
 Or if we stand beneath His eye. 
 
 As leafless trees against the sky, 
 
 Then, stripped of self, and shorn of pride, 
 
 In Him we'll trust, the Crucified, 
 
The Works of God. 281 
 
 And to His shelter ever go, 
 
 When storms of life, or death, shall blow. 
 
 So shall Thy providence impart 
 
 A lesson blest to every heart; 
 
 So shall we feel Thy gracious word, 
 So little known, so often heard, 
 Impressed, as with a power anew, 
 To quicken us Thy will to do, 
 That, when o'erpast life's wintry woes, 
 In Heaven we'll blossom as the rose, 
 And there, as trees of life, may bring. 
 Our fruits of endless offering. 
 
 The Works of God. 
 
 How beautiful are all the works of God ! 
 
 How beautiful His dealings with the heart ! 
 There was a time when o'er the earth I trod 
 
 With eyes unseeing; when I dwelt apart 
 From all life's mysteries, and knew no care, 
 Nor felt the strong necessity of prayer. 
 
282 The Works of God, 
 
 There was a time when joy was in the hght, 
 When day, with its glad beamings, made 
 my bhss; 
 When there was mournful beauty in the night. 
 
 And in the grave a terrible abyss ; 
 SucJi time hath passed ; all things are changed 
 
 to me; 
 Tis well, my God! for I am nearer Thee. 
 
 Ay, God hath dealt with me! He hath gone 
 down 
 
 Into the silent slumbers of my heart, 
 And made me feel my immortality, and thrown 
 
 A spell around me, which may ne'er depart; 
 Tides of immortal joy within me roll — 
 Joy that subdues and sanctifies the soul. 
 
 How long must I await the gentle call 
 
 Which bids me to the presence of Thy love? 
 
 Earth hath her charms, but I can leave them 
 all 
 To dwell with Thee, eternally, above. 
 
 How the worn dove will weary for its home ! 
 
 Shall it be long, dear Father, ere I come? 
 
IV. 
 
 CHAMBER OF SICKNESS 
 
Chamber of Sickness. 
 
 Here am /. 
 
 My will would like a life of ease, 
 And power to do, and time to rest, 
 
 And health, and strength, my will would 
 please. 
 But, Lord, I know Thy will is best. 
 
 If I have strength to do Thy will. 
 
 That should be power enough for me, 
 
 Whether to work, or to lie still. 
 
 The appointment of the day may be. 
 
 And if, by sickness, I may grow 
 More patient, holy, and resigned. 
 
 Strong health I need not wish to know. 
 And greater ease I cannot find. 
 
 285 
 
286 Beneath His Wmg. 
 
 Lord, I have given my life to Thee, 
 And every day, and hour, is Thine; 
 
 What Thou appointest let them be; 
 Thy will is better. Lord, than mine. 
 
 Beneath His Wing. 
 
 I COME, I rest beneath 
 
 The shadow of Thy wing, 
 
 That I may know 
 
 How good it is 
 
 There to abide. 
 How safe its sheltering. 
 
 I lean upon the cross 
 
 When fainting by the way; 
 It bears my weight. 
 It holds me up. 
 It cheers my soul, 
 
 It turns my night to day. 
 
Beneath His Wing. 287 
 
 I clasp the outstretched hand 
 Of my delivering Lord; 
 Upon His arm 
 I lean myself; 
 His arm divine 
 Doth surest help afford. 
 
 I hear the gracious words 
 He speaketh to my soul; 
 They whisper rest, 
 They banish fear, 
 They say, " Be strong !'* 
 They make my spirit whole. 
 
 I look, and live, and love; 
 I listen to the voice 
 Saying to me 
 That God is love. 
 That God is light; 
 I listen, and rejoice. 
 
288 Called Aside, 
 
 Called Aside. 
 
 " I have somewhat to say unto you." 
 
 Called aside! 
 From the glad working of thy busy life, 
 From the world's ceaseless stir of care and 
 . strife, 
 Into the shade and stillness, by thy heavenly 
 
 Guide, 
 For a brief space thou hast been called aside. 
 
 Laid aside ! 
 May not the little cup of suffering be 
 A loving one of blessing given to thee, 
 The cross of chastening, sent thee from above 
 By Him who bore the cross, whose name is 
 
 Love? 
 
 Called aside ! 
 Hast thou no memories of that *' little while"? 
 No sweet remembrance of thy Father's smile? 
 No hidden thoughts, that wrapped thee in 
 
 their hold, 
 Of Him who did such light and grace unfold ? 
 
Called Aside, 289 
 
 Called aside 
 In hidden paths with Christ thy Lord toJ:read, 
 Deeper to drink at the sweet Fountain-head, 
 Closer in fellowship with Him to roam, 
 Nearer, perchance, to feel thy heavenly home. 
 
 Called aside! 
 We thank Thee for the stillness and the 
 
 shade ; 
 We thank Thee for the hidden paths Thy 
 
 love hath made, 
 And so, that we have watched and wept with 
 
 Thee, 
 We thank Thee for our dark Gethsemane. 
 
 Called aside ! 
 Oh, restful thought! He doeth all things 
 
 well! 
 Oh, blessed sense! With Christ alone to 
 
 dv/ell ! 
 So, in the shadow of Thy cross to hide, 
 We thank Thee, Lord, to have been called 
 
 aside. 
 
 19 
 
290 Clmging to Thee, 
 
 Clinging to Thee. 
 
 Holy Saviour, Friend unseen, 
 Since on Thine arm Thou bidd'st me lean, 
 Help me throughout life's varying scene 
 By faith to cling to Thee. 
 
 Blest with this fellowship divine, 
 
 Take what Thou wilt: I'll ne'er repine; 
 
 E'en as the branches to the vine, 
 
 My soul would cling to Thee. 
 
 Far from her home, fatigued, oppressed, 
 Here she hath found her place of rest, 
 An exile still, yet not unblessed. 
 
 While she can cling to Thee. 
 
 Without a murmur I dismiss 
 
 My former dreams of earthly bliss, 
 
 My joy, my consolation, this, 
 
 Each hour to cling to Thee. 
 
Clinging to Thee, 291 
 
 What though the world deceitful prove, 
 And earthly friends, and joys, remove ? 
 With patient, uncomplaining love 
 
 Still would I cling; to Thee. 
 
 Oft, when I seem to tread alone 
 
 Some barren waste, with thorns o'ergrown, 
 
 Thy voice of love, in tenderest tone, 
 
 Whispers, "Still cling to me." 
 
 Though faith, and hope, a while be tried, 
 I ask not, need not, aught beside ; 
 How safe, how calm, how satisfied, 
 
 The soul that clings to Thee! 
 
 Blest is my lot, whate'er befall; 
 What can disturb me, what appall, 
 While as my Rock, my Strength, my All, 
 Saviour, I cling to Thee? 
 
292 He Knoweth Best. 
 
 He Knoweth Best. 
 
 I WOULD not vainly choose 
 What road shall lead me up the holy moun- 
 tain, 
 What path conduct me to the crystal fountain, 
 
 Nor willing be to lose 
 The guidance of the Hand that e'er has led 
 In ways I knew not, but with mercies spread. 
 
 When I am called to die. 
 To yield my spirit to His sacred keeping, 
 To rest my body in the long, long sleeping, 
 
 I fain would not belie 
 My trust in Him who doeth all things well, 
 Whose will alone my every wish should quell. 
 
 If gentle be the call, 
 If faint, and feeble, be the distant warning, 
 Like dimmest daystreak of the early morning, 
 
 Tipping the pine tree tall. 
 And brighter growing, till the red east shines 
 With fullest glory on the glowing pines, 
 
He Knoweth Best. 293 
 
 How grateful should I feel 
 That I might still behold my loved ones 
 
 longer ; 
 Might tarry till my timid faith grew stronger; 
 
 Might linger to reveal 
 The loves that buoyant life can ne'er unveil, 
 Like odors evening only can exhale. 
 
 If sudden be the stroke, 
 If all unheralded his solemn coming, 
 Like flash, fast followed by the thunder's 
 booming, 
 
 That scathes the skyward oak. 
 While, pale with fear, we hold our bated 
 
 breath. 
 In awe of the swift messenger of Death, 
 
 How blest the favored lot — 
 A lot to few departing spirits given- 
 Painless to pass from earth, and sin, to heaven 1 
 
 Oh, surely it were not 
 Departure we should dread, at once to rise, 
 On whirlwind pinions, to the opening skies. 
 
294 ^^ Stinted my Nest. 
 
 So I repose my trust; 
 And whether speedy messenger obeying, 
 Or waiting patiently my Lord's delaying, 
 
 To summon me to rest, 
 On His dear love my willing trust would 
 
 dwell ; 
 He knoweth best: He doeth all things well. 
 
 He Stirred my Nest. 
 
 As an eagle stirreth up her nest, fluttereth over her 
 young, spreadeth abroad her wings, so the Lord alone did 
 lead him. — Deut. xxxii. Ii, 12. 
 
 Calmly reposing in my downy nest, 
 I had forgotten earth is not my rest, 
 Until, disturbed, I saw a gracious Hand 
 Point upward to a brighter, happier land. 
 
 He stirred my nest; then, fluttering o'er my 
 
 head, 
 I saw His radiant wings benignly spread. 
 To bear me up, from earthly scenes, on high, 
 To purer regions, and a cloudless sky. 
 
He Stirred my Nest. 295 
 
 'Twas hard to find no foothold 'neath the sun, 
 But soon I found my hfe of bHss begun ; 
 A world of unseen joys, untold delight, 
 Revealed its glories to my raptured sight. 
 
 My broken nest forsaken, on those wings 
 Upborne, my spirit mounts, and sweetly sings; 
 Victorious over all her foes she soars, 
 And glorious unknown realms of light ex- 
 plores. 
 
 I had slept on, nor ever felt, or known, 
 The perfect bliss of loving God alone, 
 Of being borne upon His wings on high, 
 Had He not taught me thus to rise, and fly. 
 
 Had not my nest been stirred, and sorrows 
 
 deep. 
 And grief, and pain, disturbed my carnal sleep, 
 I had not known this pure, heartfelt delight: 
 ^Tivas love, unbounded love, that forced my 
 
 flight. 
 
296 All, All is Known to Thee, 
 
 Oh, now a wide expanse, boundless, sublime, 
 Stretches before my sight, and earth, and time, 
 Seem but a point, a bubble on the stream. 
 While on my soul celestial glories beam. 
 
 O'erwhelmed with wondering joy, and filled 
 
 with praise, 
 I now exult in grateful, ceaseless lays 
 To Him whose love amazing stooped to me. 
 And "stirred my nest," and set my spirit free. 
 
 All, All is Known to Thee. 
 
 When my spirit was overwhelmed within me, then thou 
 knewest my path. — Psalm cxlii. 3. 
 
 My God, whose gracious pity I may claim, 
 Calling Thee Father — sweet, endearing name — 
 The sufferings of this weak, and weary, frame, 
 All, all are known to Thee. 
 
 From human eye 'tis better to conceal 
 Much that I suffer, much I hourly feel ; 
 
All^ All is Know7i to Thee. 297 
 
 But oh, the thought does tranquihze, and heal, 
 All, all is known to Thee. 
 
 Each secret conflict with indwelling sin, 
 Each sickening fear I ne'er the prize shall win, 
 Each pang from irritation, turmoil, din, 
 All, all are known to Thee. 
 
 Nay, all by Thee is ordered, chosen, planned, 
 Each drop that fills my daily cup ; Thy hand 
 Prescribes for ills none else can understand; 
 All, all is known to Thee. 
 
 Nor will the bitter draught distasteful prove 
 When I recall the Son of Thy dear love ; 
 The cup Thou wouldst not for our sakes re- 
 move, 
 
 That cup He drank for me. 
 
 And welcome, precious, can His Spirit make 
 My little drop of suffering for His sake; 
 Father, the cup I drink, the path I take : 
 All, all is known to Thee. 
 
298 Words of CoinforL 
 
 Words of Comfort. 
 
 I will not leave you comfortless, I will come to you. — 
 John xiv. 18. 
 
 " I WILL not leave you comfortless " ! 
 His promise is so sweet, 
 It lasteth through life's wintry blast, 
 . Through summer's scorching heat. 
 
 " I will not leave you comfortless " ! 
 O weary pilgrim ! hear 
 That sweet, soft strain of sympathy, 
 That stays the rising tear. 
 
 " I will not leave you comfortless," 
 Although I may deem best 
 To try your strength, your faith, your love, 
 By my severest test. 
 
 "I will not leave you comfortless" 
 Till the mists all fade away. 
 Till the darkness of your soul shall melt 
 Into the perfect day. 
 
Jesits, my Savioitr, look on Me. 299 
 
 " I will not leave you comfortless " ! 
 These words are strong and true; 
 Oh, listen, then, to Jesus, 
 
 For He speaketh them to you. 
 
 yEsus, MY Saviour, look on Me. 
 
 Jesus, my Saviour, look on me. 
 
 For I am weary, and oppressed; 
 I come to cast my soul on Thee: 
 Thou art my rest. 
 
 Look down on me, for I am weak; 
 
 I feel the toilsome journey's length ; 
 Thine aid omnipotent I seek : 
 Thou art my strength. 
 
 I am bewildered on my way; 
 
 Dark, and tempestuous, is the night; 
 Oh, shed Thou forth some cheering ray : 
 Thou art my ligJit. 
 
300 Jesus, my Saviotcr, look on Me, 
 
 Why feel I desolate, and lone? 
 
 Thy praises should my thoughts employ ; 
 Thy presence can pure gladness dawn: 
 Thou art vi\y joy. 
 
 Thou hast on me so much bestowed, 
 
 Surely I may relinquish health ; 
 Thou'st made me rich — yea, rich toward God: 
 Thou art my wealth, 
 
 I hear the storms around me rise ; 
 
 But when I dread the impending shock. 
 My spirit to her refuge flies : 
 Thou art my rock. 
 
 Vain is all human help for me; 
 
 I dare not trust an earthly prop; 
 My sole reliance is on Thee : 
 Thou art my hope. 
 
 Full many a conflict must be fought; 
 
 But shall I perish ? shall I yield ? 
 
 Is that bright motto given for naught, 
 
 *'Thou art my shield'' ? 
 
Memorials. 301 
 
 Standing alone on Jordan's brink 
 In that tremendous latest strife, 
 Thou wilt not suffer me to sink: 
 Thou art my life. 
 
 Thou wilt my every want supply; 
 E'en to the end, whate'er befall, 
 Through life, in death, eternally, 
 Thou art my all. 
 
 Memorials. 
 
 This life is but a school-time. 
 In which we learn to love 
 
 The friends we see around us, 
 The unseen God above. 
 
 Some learn by active service. 
 Others in grief and pain; 
 
 Some seem to reap in gladness, 
 The rest to toil in vain. 
 
302 Memorials. 
 
 The great thing is to study, 
 
 To see our Lord in all, 
 His great love to remember, 
 
 Whatever may befall. 
 
 We know the blessed story 
 Of how He came to save. 
 
 And lived as man among us 
 From childhood to the grave. 
 
 And earth has now her tokens 
 That He has touched with light; 
 
 Memorials of His kindness 
 Are ever in our sight. 
 
 And pain, and weakness, make Him 
 Nearer, and dearer, seem, 
 
 Till life becomes a story, 
 Of which He is the theme. 
 
 When nurses gently 'tend us, 
 
 When loved ones give their hands. 
 
 When kind physicians cheer us, 
 Or friend with chalice stands, — ■ 
 
The Single Head of Wheat. 303 
 
 In each we may discover 
 
 The Hkeness of our Lord, 
 Who soothes our bed of sickness, 
 
 According to His word. 
 
 Oh, then, in joy, or sorrow, 
 Whatever may befall. 
 
 Let us our Lord remember, 
 And see His love in all. 
 
 The Single Head of Wheat. 
 
 All my daily tasks were ended, 
 And the hush of night had come. 
 
 Bringing rest to weary spirits. 
 Calling many wanderers home. 
 
 * He that goeth forth with weeping, 
 Bearing golden grains of wheat, 
 Shall return again rejoicing, 
 
 Laden with the harvest sweet." 
 
304 The Single Head of Wheat. 
 
 This I read, and deeply pondered 
 What of seed my hand had sown, 
 
 What of harvest I was reaping 
 To be laid before the Throne. 
 
 While my thoughts were swiftly glancing 
 O'er the paths my feet had trod, 
 
 Sleep sealed up my weary eyelids. 
 And a vision came from God. 
 
 In the world's great field of labor 
 All the reapers' tasks were done; 
 
 Each one hastened to the Master 
 With the sheaves that he had won. 
 
 Some, with sheaves so poor, and scanty. 
 
 Sadly told the number o'er; 
 Others staggered 'neath the burden 
 
 Of the golden grain they bore. 
 
 Gladly then the pearly gateway 
 
 Opened wide to let them in, 
 As they sought the Master's presence 
 
 With their burdens, rich, and thin. 
 
The Single Head of Wheat. 305 
 
 Slowly, sadly, with the reapers 
 Who had labored long, and late, 
 
 Came /, at the Master's bidding, 
 And was latest at the gate. 
 
 Then, apart from all the others. 
 
 Weeping bitterly, I stood ; 
 I had toiled from early morning. 
 
 Working for the others' good. 
 
 When one friend had fallen, fainting, 
 
 By his piles of golden grain, 
 With a glass of cooling water 
 
 I revived his strength again. 
 
 And another, worn, and weary, 
 
 I had aided for a while, 
 Till, her failing strength returning, 
 
 She went onward with a smile. 
 
 Thus the others I had aided 
 
 While the golden moments fled. 
 
 Till the day was spent, and evening 
 
 O'er the earth her teardrops shed. 
 20 
 
3o6 The Single Head of Wheat. 
 
 And I to the Master's presence 
 Came with weary, toil-worn feet, 
 
 Bringing as my gathered harvest 
 But a single head of wheat. 
 
 So with tearful eyes I watched them, 
 As with faces glad, and bris^ht. 
 
 One by one they laid their burdens 
 Down before the throne of light. 
 
 Ah ! how sweetly then the blessing 
 Sounded to my listening ear! — 
 " Nobly done, my faithful servants ! 
 Rest now in your mansion here." 
 
 Then I thought, with keenest sorrow, 
 "Words like these are not for me; 
 Only those with heavy burdens 
 Heavenly rest, and blessing, see. 
 
 " Yet I love the Master truly, 
 
 And I've labored hard since dawn, 
 But I have no heavy burden ; 
 Will he bid me to be gone ?" 
 
The Single Head of Wheat. 307 
 
 While I questioned thus in sadness, 
 
 Christ the Master called for me, 
 And I knelt before Him, saying, 
 " I have only this for Thee. 
 
 " I have labored hard, O Master ! 
 
 I have toiled from morn till night, 
 But I sought to aid my neighbors. 
 And to make their labors light. 
 
 " So the day has passed unnoticed, 
 And to-night with shame I come, 
 Bringing as my gathered harvest 
 But a single wheat-head home." 
 
 Then I laid it down with weeping 
 
 At His blessed, pierced feet. 
 And He smiled upon my trembling: 
 
 Ah ! His smile was passing sweet. 
 
 ** Child, it is enough," he answered ; 
 "All I asked for thou hast brought. 
 And among the band of reapers 
 Truly, bravely, hast thou wrought. 
 
3o8 The Single Head of Wheat 
 
 "This was thine appointed mission; 
 Well hast thou fulfilled the task; 
 Have no fear that I will chide thee ; 
 This is all that I could ask." 
 
 Then I woke; but long the vision 
 In my heart I pondered. o'er, 
 
 While I tried to see the meaning 
 Hidden in its depths it bore. 
 
 And at length this lesson slowly 
 Dawned upon my wondering mind 
 
 Never mind what others gather; 
 Do whate'er thy hand can find. 
 
 If it be thy 'lotted mission 
 Thus to serve the reaper-band, 
 
 And the evening find thee weary, 
 With an empty, sheafless hand, 
 
 Let thy heart be never troubled; 
 
 Faithfully fulfil thy task; 
 Tremble not before the Master: 
 
 Heavy sheaves He will not ask. 
 
Knozv Thyself. 309 
 
 Know Thyself. 
 
 When gentle twilight sits on day's forsaken 
 throne, 
 
 'Mid the sweet hush of eventide muse by 
 thyself alone ; 
 
 And at the time of rest, ere sleep asserts its 
 power, 
 
 Hold pleasant converse with thyself in med- 
 itation's bower. 
 
 Not on the outer world for inward joy de- 
 pend: 
 
 Enjoy the luxury of thought; make thine 
 own self thy friend ; 
 
 Not with the restless throng in search of sol- 
 ace roam, 
 
 But with an independent zeal be intimate at 
 home. 
 
 Good company have they who by themselves 
 
 do walk. 
 If they have learned on blessed themes with 
 
 their own souls to talk. 
 
3IO The Sec7^et Spring. 
 
 For they shall never feel of dull enmii the 
 
 power, 
 Nor penury, or loneliness, shall haunt their 
 
 hall, or bower. 
 
 Drink waters from the fount that in thy bo- 
 som springs. 
 
 And envy not the mingled draughts of sa- 
 traps, or of kings ; 
 
 So shalt thou find at last, far from the giddy 
 brain. 
 
 Self-knowledge, and self-culture, lead to un- 
 computed gain. 
 
 The Secret Spring. 
 
 The gentle moon was silvering 
 The outline of the trees; 
 
 A lullaby of Nature 
 
 Was whispered in the breeze; 
 
 'Twas not a time for talking, 
 Or speculations high : 
 
The Secret Spring. 3 1 r. 
 
 I wanted to be quiet, 
 And hear that lullaby. 
 
 I wanted to be silent, 
 
 And watch the waving grass 
 So gracefully inclining 
 
 To let the breezes pass ; 
 It seemed to grow in beauty. 
 
 The more it bowed its head, 
 Like penitential murmurs 
 
 On saintly dying-bed. 
 
 I marvelled at its beauty, 
 
 So manifold, so sweet, 
 Like rainbow colors, blending 
 
 In harmony complete ; 
 And while I looked, and wondered 
 
 What made it grow so high. 
 The question rose within me. 
 
 Is there a hid supply? 
 
 For it was taller, fairer. 
 Than all the grass around ; 
 
3 1 2 The Secret Spring. 
 
 What made it thus to differ 
 
 From cumberers of the ground? 
 
 At last the whispering breezes 
 This answer seemed to bring 
 
 (Its echoes rang within me) : 
 "There is a hidden spring. 
 
 "You cannot see the waters 
 
 By which the grass is fed ; 
 You cannot see the brooklet 
 
 Within its Httle bed; 
 You cannot even hear it, 
 
 So quiet is its flow; 
 And yet those hidden waters 
 
 Have made the grass to grow." 
 
 Then planted by the waters, 
 
 O Saviour ! let me be, 
 That I may thus be fruitful, 
 
 And glory bring to Thee. 
 Not unto me be glory : 
 
 TJiy praises would I sing; 
 Yes ! for the grass were nothing 
 
 Without the hidden spring. 
 
Watch for the Morning. 3 1 3 
 
 Watch for the Morning. 
 
 Watcher, 'tis dark, and thy dwelling is lonely ; 
 The night-lamp shines dimly, and so does 
 thine eye; 
 Thou art thinking thy portion is wretched- 
 ness only, 
 Disheartened, despairing, and longing to die. 
 
 Watcher, look out where the daystar is dawn- 
 ing; 
 Hope in thy soul let its promise awake. 
 And sleepless, though weary, still wait for 
 the morning : 
 Never a night but the morning shall break. 
 
 Wanderer, 'tis dark, and the tempest is roar- 
 ing 
 Wildly above thee, and raging around; 
 Terrors, and dangers, their vials are pouring 
 Right on thy pathway, where quicksands 
 abound. 
 
3 1 4 Watch for the Morning. 
 
 Wanderer, 'tis better to bow than to bide it; 
 Harmlessly o'er thee the Storm-king shall 
 ride; 
 Deep yawns the chasm: it were death to be- 
 stride it; 
 Pass on where the valley is sloping and 
 wide. 
 
 Weeper, 'tis dark, for the angel of sorrow 
 Hath spread o'er the landscape the gloom 
 of his wing; 
 No hue from the rainbow thy sadness can 
 borrow, 
 No joy to thy bosom the springtime can 
 bring. 
 
 Weeper, despair not; there is that can cure 
 thee; 
 Yes, e'en to the heartsick a balm can be 
 given — 
 A draught that shall comfort, and gladness, 
 ensure thee ; 
 Drink deeply, drink freely; its fount is in 
 heaven. 
 
Quietly Rest, 3 1 5 
 
 O ye who are suffering, and toiling, and sigh- 
 in o* 
 Who in darkness of spirit are groping your 
 way, 
 Who are weary of hoping, and trusting, and 
 trying, 
 Who are sure that your midnight can never 
 be day, — 
 
 Look forth where the daystar of promise is 
 dawning; 
 Stand fast by your duty, your God, and the 
 right; 
 And patient, and faithful, thus watch for the 
 morning, 
 Assured it shall bring you both healing 
 and light. 
 
 Quietly Rest, 
 
 Quietly rest in the arms of affection, 
 That Heaven extends to the weary and 
 worn ; 
 
J 
 
 1 6 Quietly Rest, 
 
 Sweetly repose in the Father's protection, 
 Who bade the lone wanderer to Jesus re- 
 turn. 
 
 Quietly rest when afflictions attend thee, 
 
 And cast every care on the bosom of love; 
 Jesus can cause e'en thy griefs to befriend 
 thee, 
 While blessings unnumbered descend from 
 above. 
 
 Quietly rest e'en in sickness and sorrow; 
 
 When energies fail thee in body, or mind, 
 Rest on the thought of eternity's morrow. 
 
 With every interest to Jesus resigned. 
 
 Quietly rest; for whate'er may betide thee, 
 The Shepherd of Israel will keep thee from 
 harm; 
 No truly good thing has been ever denied 
 thee: 
 »Rest on the promise, and feel no alarm. 
 
Airs Well. 317 
 
 All's Well. 
 
 The day is ended ! Ere I sink to sleep, 
 
 My weary spirit seeks repose in Thine; 
 Father, forgive my trespasses, and keep 
 This little life of mine. 
 
 With loving-kindness curtain Thou my bed, 
 
 And cool; in rest, my burning pilgrim feet; 
 Thy pardon be the pillow for my head ; 
 So shall my sleep be sweet. 
 
 At peace with all the world, dear Lord, and 
 Thee, 
 No fears my soul's unwavering faith can 
 shake ; 
 AlVs well, whichever side the grave for me 
 The morning light may break. 
 
3i8 God Ever Near. 
 
 God Ever Near. 
 
 When faded lie life's early flowers, 
 
 And shadows darkly fall, 
 Whence comes the light that cheers the hours, 
 
 And makes them best of all ? 
 
 As, treading down life's weary length. 
 
 Our limbs more tottering grow, 
 Who is it gives triumphant strength 
 
 In faith, and peace, to go? 
 
 Ah ! vainly shall the powers of earth 
 
 The immortal soul assail ; 
 Leaning on Him who gave it birth. 
 
 O'er all it shall prevail. 
 
 So thou whose heart is sorely tried, 
 
 Whose path is marked by pain. 
 Thou hast One ever by thy side 
 
 Who will through all sustain. 
 
Past and Present, 319 
 
 "God ever near"! What words are these 
 
 To brace the sinking soul ! 
 " God ever near " ! How brief our woes 
 
 If He the griefs console! 
 
 May He be near, and nearer yet, 
 
 Until, as falls the night, 
 Thy earthly sun in peace shall set, 
 
 To rise in heaven's clear light. 
 
 Past and Present. 
 
 The day of busy life is passed; 
 
 The day of quiet thought is iioiv ; 
 And which is better, first, or last f 
 
 Tell me, my soul ; what thinkest thou ? 
 
 Oh, is not evening's deep repose 
 More beautiful, and far more sweet. 
 
 Than dewy morning, when it rose 
 In smiles so sparkling, and so fleet? 
 
320 A Thought. 
 
 And hushed as evening's quietness, 
 
 Refreshing as its balmy air, 
 Is sickness, in its power to bless 
 
 The soul that lives in faith, and prayer. 
 
 And death — that strangely solemn sleep, 
 
 So full of awe, and mystery, 
 The last step down life's shelving steep, 
 
 The plunge into obscurity — 
 
 May haply prove, like starry night, 
 For rest, and revelation, given. 
 
 Which out of darkness bringeth light — 
 Shows less of earth, and mo7'e of heaven. 
 
 A Thought. 
 
 Oh, 'tis a thought most precious, 
 While journeying here below. 
 
 The pathway all unknowing 
 In which our steps must go, 
 
A Thought. 321 
 
 That there's a Guide unerring, 
 
 Who knoweth all the way, 
 And who'll direct our footsteps, 
 
 Alike both night and day. 
 
 We must not ask His reasons, 
 
 We dare not doubt His love, 
 But take whate'er He sendeth. 
 
 As bidden from above; 
 And then life's daily crosses. 
 
 And blessings too, will seem 
 As ways His wisdom taketh 
 
 From danger to redeem. 
 
 So we will fear no evil. 
 
 But take that guiding hand. 
 
 Follow that gentle leading. 
 Obey that kind command ; 
 
 Him in all things acknowledge. 
 Walk in His holy light. 
 
 Till earth be left for heaven, 
 
 And " faith exchanged for sight.' 
 21 
 
32 2 * Psalm xvi. 5. 
 
 Psalm xvi. 5. 
 
 " Thou maintainest my lot." 
 
 Source of my life's refreshing springs, 
 Whose presence in my heart sustains me, 
 
 Thy love appoints me pleasant things, 
 Thy mercy orders all that pains me. 
 
 Well may Thy happy children cease 
 From restless wishes, prone to sin, 
 
 And, in Thy own exceeding peace, 
 Yield to Thy daily discipline. 
 
 We need as much the cross we bear 
 As air we breathe, as light we see; 
 
 It draws us to Thy side in prayer. 
 It binds us to our strength in Thee. 
 
V. 
 
 CLOSET OF PRAYER 
 
CLOSET OF PRAYER. 
 
 The Closet of Prayer. 
 
 Thou sacred haven, where the storm-tossed mind 
 
 Support and peace may find ! 
 Ark of our refuge when life's billows roll 
 
 Around the struggling soul ! 
 When sin assails, oh whither can we flee 
 
 Except we come to thee? 
 In joy or sorrow thy serene retreat 
 
 Quiets the heart's wild beat; 
 And though on earth we yet must linger, thus 
 
 Heaven draws near to us. 
 
 Wherever in the world a spirit sighs, 
 
 Round him thy walls arise ; 
 
 His quiet thoughts a sweet seclusion form 
 
 Amid the strife and storm. 
 
 325 
 
326 Retirement and Prayer. 
 
 While earnest prayers beseechingly ascend 
 
 To our all-present Friend, 
 Earth sinks away ; our griefs, our pains, are still 
 
 Seeking His perfect will : 
 And our poor souls grow stronger in thy air, 
 
 O holy place of prayer! 
 
 Retirement and Pra yer. 
 
 And he withdrew himself into the wilderness and prayed. 
 -Luke v. i6. 
 
 If thus our Lord himself withdrew, 
 
 Stealing, at times, away. 
 E'en from the loved, the chosen, few, 
 
 In solitude to pray. 
 How should His followers, frail, and weak. 
 Such seasons of retirement seek ! 
 
 Seldom, amid the strife, and din, 
 
 Of sublunary things, 
 Can spirits keep their watch within. 
 
 Or plume their heavenward wings ; 
 
My Vesper-Song, 327 
 
 He must dwell deep, indeed, whose heart 
 Can thus fulfil true wisdom's part. 
 
 Retirement must adjust the beam, 
 And prayer must poise the scales; 
 
 Our Guide, Example, Head supreme, 
 In neither lesson fails; 
 
 Oh, may we in remembrance bear 
 
 He sought retirement, practised prayer. 
 
 My Vesper-Song. 
 
 Filled with weariness, and pain, 
 Scarcely strong enough to pray, 
 
 In this twilight-hour I sit— 
 Sit, and sing my doubts away. 
 
 O'er my broken purposes, 
 
 Ere the coming shadows roll, 
 Let me build a bridge of song, 
 ''Jesus, Lover of my soul." 
 
328 Aly Vesper-Song, 
 
 " Let me to Thy bosom fly " ! 
 
 How the words my thoughts repeat ! 
 To Thy bosom, Lord, I come. 
 Though unfit to kiss Thy feet. 
 
 Once I gathered sheaves for Thee, 
 
 Dreaming I could hold them fast; 
 Now I can but idly sing, 
 *'0h, receive my soul at last!" 
 
 I am weary of my fears; 
 
 Like a child, when night comes on, 
 In the shadozv, Lord, I sing, 
 "Leave, oh, leave me not alone P^ 
 
 Through the tears I still must shed, 
 
 Through the evil yet to be, 
 Though I falter while I sing 
 "Still support, and comfort, me, 
 
 "All my trust on Thee is stayed." 
 Does the rhythm of the song. 
 Softly falling on my heart, 
 
 Make its pulses firm, and strong, 
 
My Vesper-Song. 329 
 
 Or is this Thy perfect peaee 
 
 Now descending while I sing, 
 That my soul may sleep to-night 
 '•'Neath the shadow of Thy wing"? 
 
 "Thou of life the Fountain art," 
 If I slumber on Thy breast; 
 If I sing myself to sleep, 
 
 Sleep, and death, alike are rest. 
 
 Through the shadows overpast. 
 
 Through the shadows yet to be. 
 Let the ladder of my song 
 "Rise to all eternity." 
 
 Note by note its silver bars 
 May my soul in love ascend, 
 
 Till I reach the highest round 
 In Thy kingdom without end. 
 
 Not impatiently I sing, 
 
 Though I stretch my hands, and cry, 
 "Jesus, Lover of my soul. 
 
 Let me to Thy bosom fly." 
 
330 Pray 67^ and Praise, 
 
 Prayer and Praise. 
 
 If any man be in Christ, he is a new creature; old 
 things are passed away, behold all things are become new. 
 — 2 Cor. v. 17. 
 
 We praise, and bless Thee, gracious Lord, 
 
 Our Saviour kind, and true. 
 For all the old things passed away. 
 
 For all Thou hast made new. 
 
 Thou, only Thou, must carry on 
 
 The work Thou hast begun ; 
 Of Thine own strength Thou must impart 
 
 In Thine own ways to run. 
 
 Whate'er would tempt the soul to stray, 
 
 Or separate, from Thee, 
 That, Lord, remove, however dear 
 
 To the poor heart it be. 
 
 When the flesh sinks, then strengthen Thou 
 
 The spirit from above; 
 Make us to feel Thy service sweet, 
 
 And light Thy yoke of love. 
 
Thy Will be Done. 331 
 
 So shall we faultless stand at last 
 Before Thy Father's throne, 
 
 The blessedness for ever ours, 
 The glory all Thine own. 
 
 Thy Will be Done. 
 
 How sweet to be allowed to pray 
 
 To God, the Holy One ! 
 With filial love, and trust, to say, 
 "O God, Thy will be done!" 
 
 We in these sacred words can find 
 
 A cure for every ill ; 
 They calm, and soothe, the troubled mind, 
 ^ And bid all care be still. 
 
 Oh, may that will, that gave me birth. 
 
 And an immortal soul, 
 In joy, or grief, in life, or death. 
 
 My every wish control ! 
 
332 Prayer for Divine Strength, 
 
 Oh, could my heart thus ever pray, 
 
 Thus imitate Thy Son ! 
 Teach me, O God, in truth to say, 
 "Thy will, not mine, be done!" 
 
 Prayer for Divine Strength. 
 
 Father, in Thy mysterious presence kneeling, 
 Fain would our souls feel all Thy kindling 
 love, 
 For we are weak, and need some deep reveal- 
 ing 
 Of trust, and strength, and calmness, from 
 above. 
 
 Lord, we have wandered forth through doubt, 
 and sorrow. 
 And Thou hast made each step an onward 
 one, 
 And we will ever trust each unknown mor- 
 row: 
 lyioic wilt sustain 7is till its work is done. 
 
Faith. 333 
 
 In the heart's depths a peace serene, and holy, 
 Abides ; and when pain seems to have its 
 will, 
 
 Or we despair, oh may that peace rise slowly. 
 Stronger than agony, and we be still. 
 
 Now, Father, now, in Thy dear presence 
 kneeling. 
 Our spirits yearn to feel Thy kindling love ; 
 Now make us strong : we need Thy deep re- 
 vealing 
 Of trust, and strength, and calmness, from 
 above. 
 
 ' Faith. 
 
 Still will we trust, though earth seem dark, 
 and dreary, 
 And the heart faint beneath His chastening 
 rod. 
 Though rough, and steep, our pathway, worn, 
 and weary. 
 
 Still will we trust in God. 
 
334 Faith. 
 
 Our eyes see dimly till by faith anointed, 
 And our blind choosing brings us grief, and 
 pain; 
 Through Him alone who hath our way ap- 
 pointed 
 
 We find our peace again. 
 
 Choose for us, God, nor let our weak prefer- 
 ring 
 Cheat our poor souls of good Thou hast 
 designed ; 
 Choose for us God: Thy wisdom is unerring, 
 And we are fools, and blind. 
 
 So from our sky the Night shall furl her 
 shadows. 
 And Day pour gladness through his golden 
 gates ; 
 Our rough path leads to flower-enamelled 
 meadows, 
 
 Where joy our coming waits. 
 
The Angel of the Lord. 335 
 
 Let us press on in patient self-denial, 
 
 Accept the hardship, shrink not from the 
 loss; 
 Our guerdon lies beyond the hour of trial, 
 Our crown beyond the cross. 
 
 The Angel of the Lord. 
 
 The angel of the Lord encampeth round about them that 
 fear him, and delivereth them. — Psalm xxxiv. 7. 
 
 In the deep watches of the night, 
 When slumber closes every eye, 
 
 I wake, and seek, with yearning sight, 
 The encamping angel drawing nigh, 
 
 With bending head, and folded wing. 
 
 I cannot see that lovelit face. 
 So dim, so shadowy, a thing 
 
 It melts into the night's embrace, 
 
 Yet comes o'er me celestial calm, 
 A blest repose, a peaceful prayer, 
 
336 The Hour of Prayer, 
 
 I hear faint music of a psalm, 
 A holy lull is in the air. 
 
 I trust the Lord; I fold my hands 
 In suppliance upon my breast, 
 
 And leave to Him the dropping sands 
 That waste my pulse, and sweetly rest. 
 
 And when death-shadows o'er me steal, 
 Wilt thou draw nearer, holy guest. 
 
 The glory of thy form reveal. 
 
 And bear me upward to the blest? 
 
 The Hour of Prayer. 
 
 My God, is any hour so sweet. 
 
 From blush of morn to evening star, 
 As that which calls me to Thy feet, 
 The hour of prayer? 
 
 Blest is the tranquil hour of morn. 
 
 And blest that hour of solemn eve, 
 When, on the wings of prayer upborne, 
 The world I leave. 
 
The Hours of Evening Close. 2iZl 
 
 • TJien is my strength by Thee renewed ; 
 Then are my sins by Thee forgiven; 
 Then dost Thou cheer my sohtude 
 
 With hopes of heaven. 
 
 No words can tell what sweet relief 
 
 There for my every want I find; 
 What strength for warfare, balm for grief, 
 What peace of mind. 
 
 Hushed is each doubt, gone every fear; 
 
 My spirit seems in heaven to stay. 
 And e'en the penitential tear 
 Is wiped away. 
 
 The Hours of Evening Close, 
 
 The hours of evening close. 
 Its lengthened shadows, drawn 
 
 O'er scenes of earth, invite repose. 
 And wait the Sabbath dawn. 
 
 So let its calm prevail 
 
 O'er forms of outward care, 
 
 22 
 
338 The Parting Spirit, 
 
 Nor thought for many things assail 
 The still retreat of prayer. 
 
 Our guardian Shepherd near 
 
 His watchful eye will keep, 
 And safe from violence, or fear, 
 
 Will fold His flock to sleep. 
 So may a holier light 
 
 Than earth's our spirits rouse, 
 And call us, strengthened by His might, 
 
 To pay the Lord our vows. 
 
 The Parting Spirit. 
 
 A BREEZE passed by, and bore away 
 The last breath of a dying flower; 
 
 A lonely bird sat on the spray. 
 
 Warbling a plaintive melody. 
 In that still evening hour ; 
 
 The last note trembled in the trees, 
 
 TJien floated with the passing breeze; 
 
 The song was hushed, the flower was gone, 
 
 But still the gentle breeze went on. 
 
The Parting Spirit, 339 
 
 On a lone couch a maiden lay, 
 
 Her life of suffering nearly o'er, 
 Her hours of sorrow sanctified, 
 Her gentle spirit purified, 
 
 Her peace for evermore, 
 Her maiden heart to Heaven wed. 
 Her feeble feet by angels led 
 
 To that calm, holy shore. 
 
 " Father," she said, " once more 
 
 Let Thy cool breezes play upon my brow; 
 Father, I love Thy world : in it I see 
 A reflex of Thine own divinity. 
 And all its tuneful voices speak of Thee. 
 
 "My Father, if by pain 
 
 I have been drawn more closely unto Thee, 
 I bless Thee for the trial, and the loss, 
 I bless Thee for the suffering, and the cross; 
 All, all is naught to this eternal gain. 
 
 " Now, Father, I would look 
 
 Once more upon Thy blessed earth and sky; 
 
340 The Evening Service. 
 
 I would retain the pleasant memories 
 Of Nature's loveliest sights and harmonies ; 
 Naught Thou hast made can be unworthy 
 Thee ; 
 And while Thy balmy zephyrs round me play, 
 My soul on wings of love shall soar away." 
 
 The perfumed breeze stole in; 
 
 Sweetness, and music, filled, and thrilled, the 
 air; 
 An angel touched his harp; the censer swung; 
 The natural, and divine, were blent in one. 
 
 And all was hallowed there; 
 And song of bird, and soul of flower, were 
 
 given. 
 Companions of that lovely soul to heaven. 
 
 The Evening Service. 
 
 The sun had drawn near to his setting. 
 One beautiful Sabbath in yinie, 
 
 When I sat by my window, and listened, 
 Spellbound, to a glorious tune. 
 
The Eventing Service, 341 
 
 'Twas the peal of a wonderful organ, 
 Touched by a performer unseen, 
 
 And the full-volumed music arose, like 
 The prelude to some mighty strain. 
 
 Then the whole "voice of Nature" responded 
 
 In chorus that floated along; 
 The high air, the low earth, the deep ocean, 
 
 All joined in harmonious song. 
 
 I thought I well could interpret 
 The meaning of this festive lay: 
 
 'Twas a tribute of praise and thanksgiving 
 To Him who perfected the day. 
 
 Then I knew 'twas the afternoon service, 
 ' And our priest was the bird on a tree. 
 For a glory from heaven was on him ; 
 No priest unanointed was he. 
 
 So I waited in reverent silence 
 
 Till the going down of the sun 
 For the prayer, and the hymn, and the bless- 
 ing, 
 
 That come when the sermon is done. 
 
342 Night- Musiiigs. 
 
 But one long, continuous warble 
 
 Was sermon, and anthem, and prayer, 
 
 And I knew not the service was over 
 Till the priest was away in the air. 
 
 Night-Musings. 
 
 In the still silence of the voiceless night, 
 When, chased by airy dreams, my slumbers 
 flee, 
 Whom, in the darkness, doth my spirit seek, 
 O God, but Thee ? 
 
 And if there be a weight upon my breast, 
 Some vague impressions of the day fore- 
 gone, 
 Scarce knowing what it is, I fly to Thee, 
 And lay it down. 
 
 Or if it be the heaviness that comes 
 
 In token of anticipated ill. 
 My bosom takes no heed of what it is. 
 Since 'tis Thy will. 
 
Mid7iight Hymn, 343 
 
 For oh, in spite of past, and present, care, 
 
 Or anything beside, how joyfully 
 Passes that full, full hour. 
 
 My God, with Thee! 
 
 More tranquil than the stillness of the night. 
 More peaceful than the silence of that hour, 
 More blest than anything, my spirit lies 
 Beneath Thy power. 
 
 For what is there on earth that I desire. 
 
 Of all that it can give, or take from me, 
 Or whom in heaven doth my spirit seek, 
 O God, but Thee? 
 
 Midnight Hymn. 
 
 Where'er I am, whate'er I see, 
 Eternal Lord, is full of Thee; 
 I feel Thee in the gloom of night, 
 I view Thee in the morning light. 
 
344 Midnight Hymn. 
 
 When care distracts my anxious soul, 
 Thy grace can every thought control ; 
 Thy word can still the troubled heart, 
 And peace, and confidence, impart. 
 
 If pain invade my broken rest, 
 
 Or if corroding griefs molest, 
 
 Soon as the Comforter appears, 
 
 My sighs are hushed, and dried my tears. 
 
 Thy wisdom guides, Thy will directs. 
 Thy arm upholds, Thy power protects ; 
 With Thee when I at dawn converse. 
 The shadows sink, the clouds disperse. 
 
 Then, as the sun illumes the skies, 
 O Sun of righteousness, arise ! 
 Dispel the fogs of mental night, 
 Being of beings. Light of light! 
 
Still with Thee, 345 
 
 Still with Thee. 
 
 Still, still with Thee when purple morning 
 breaketh, 
 When the bird waketh, and the shadows 
 flee; 
 Fairer than morning, lovelier than the day- 
 light, 
 Dawns the sweet consciousness, I am with 
 Thee. 
 
 Alone with Thee amid the mystic shadow, 
 The solemn hush of Nature newly born ; 
 
 Alone with Thee in breathless adoration 
 
 In the calm dew, and freshness, of the 
 morn. 
 
 As, in the dawning, o'er the waveless ocean, 
 The image of the morning star doth rest, 
 
 So, in this stillness, Thou beholdest only 
 Thine image in the waters of my breast. 
 
346 Still with Thee, 
 
 Still, still with Thee, as to each new-born 
 morning 
 A fresh, and solemn splendor still is given ; 
 So doth this blessed consciousness, awaking, 
 Breathe, each day, nearness unto Thee, and 
 heaven. 
 
 When sinks the soul, subdued by toil, to 
 slumber, 
 Its closing eye looks up to Thee in prayer; 
 Sweet the repose beneath Thy wing's o'er- 
 shading, 
 But sweeter still to wake, and find Thee 
 there. 
 
 So shall it be at last, in that bright morning 
 When the soul waketh, and life's shadows 
 flee; 
 Oh, in that hour, fairer than daylight dawn- 
 ing. 
 Shall rise the glorious thought, I am with 
 Thee! 
 
Morning Prayer m Ilhiess. 347 
 
 Morning Pra yer in Illness. 
 
 How I rejoice to see the morning light 
 Shine in my room, chasing away the night 
 
 Of pain, and fear ! 
 And yet the darkness is as Hght to Thee; 
 I cannot fear that aught can injure me, 
 
 If Thou art near. 
 
 Another day is added to my life; 
 Again I gird me to endure the strife 
 
 I wage with pain ; 
 Purge out the dross, O God ! the gold re- 
 fine, 
 And stamp Thy image on Thy work, so mine 
 
 Be all the gain. 
 
 Oh, give me patience, so that I may bear 
 The weary weight of thought, and pain, and 
 care, 
 
 That marks each day; 
 
348 Mor7iing Prayer in Illness, 
 
 I would not shrink from what Thou dost de- 
 cree ; 
 
 I ask but strength — the strength that comes 
 from Thee: 
 
 Grant this, I pray. 
 
 Amid my every pain may I but keep 
 A loving, tender heart for all who weep 
 
 O'er fond hopes slain; 
 For all who sin, and suffer, and thus learn 
 Their only hope of peace is to return 
 
 To Thee again. 
 
 Thy service needs that many " stand and wait," 
 While other favored ones attend Thy state, 
 
 And do Thy will ; 
 Among the waiting souls e'en I may stand, 
 Ready to do, or bear, at Thy command. 
 
 Patient, and still. 
 
 And when, at length, life's clouded day shall 
 
 close. 
 Within the grave my body shall repose 
 In death's long night; 
 
The Earthly Temple. 349 
 
 But that which makes myself, shall soar away 
 To hope's fruition, life, celestial day, 
 And radiant light. 
 
 The Earthly Temple. 
 
 The earthly temple which so long 
 My soul hath called her own 
 
 Is now fast crumbling into dust; 
 'Twill soon be overthrown. 
 
 Yet in each added hour of life 
 
 A Father's love I see, 
 Though I am weak, and suffering. 
 
 And longing to be free. 
 
 When, from my sleepless couch, I view 
 
 The light of coming day, 
 I'll think of the dark night of sin 
 
 In which my spirit lay. 
 
350 The Earthly Temple, 
 
 And of the Sun of righteousness, 
 Which made its darkness light, 
 
 And, chasing doubts, and fears, away. 
 Will change faith into sight. 
 
 And if another night I'm still 
 
 In this poor body pent, 
 I'll look out on the gentle stars, 
 
 And think of Him who sent 
 
 The guiding star of Bethlehem 
 
 To point the humble place 
 Where lay the wondrous Saviour-child, 
 
 Who now heaven's throne doth grace. 
 
 My soul will soon behold Him; 
 
 Oh that the hour would come 
 When heaven's gate shall open 
 
 To receive me to my home ! 
 
 I'll mourn not, though I'm parting 
 With loved ones who on earth 
 
 Have ofttimes cheered my pathway, 
 They too, claim heavenly birth. 
 
The Earthly Temple. 351 
 
 Soon will end their day of sorrow, 
 
 Soon close their mortal strife, 
 And through Jesus' name they'll enter 
 
 The inheritance of life. 
 
 And when they're upward soaring 
 
 To their dwelling in the sky. 
 My soul will come, and meet them, 
 
 And homeward with them fly. 
 
 And when, at times, a feeling 
 Of dread steals o'er my heart — 
 
 Dread of the last great struggle. 
 When soul, and body, part — 
 
 I'll think of His sweet promise. 
 That, though all friends must fail, 
 
 Not lonely, or forsaken, 
 
 Shall I enter the dark vale. 
 
 " I will come, and will receive you," 
 He said in gentle tone ; 
 And upon His bosom leaning. 
 My spirit shall go home. 
 
352 The Earthly Temple. 
 
 Jesus for His beloved 
 
 Thus tenderly doth care, 
 Not e'en with the bright angels 
 
 Will He the burden share. 
 
 And oh, the heavenly rapture 
 
 Which my ransomed spirit thrills, 
 
 As, amid the golden sunshine 
 On the everlasting hills, 
 
 I greet my long-lost friends, 
 Earth's dear ones gone before. 
 
 Waiting in light to greet me, 
 Safe on the other shore. 
 
 Where'er my body resteth — 
 
 It matters not to me; 
 All earth is in God's keeping — 
 
 Each atom that we see, — 
 
 If flowers shall bloom above me. 
 May all who on them gaze 
 
 Think of the Hand which formed them. 
 And of His wondrous ways. 
 
The Earthly Temple, 353 
 
 He to a flower compareth 
 
 This fleeting life of ours ; 
 May we bloom in His garden ! 
 
 May we be heavenly flowers ! 
 
 When wintry winds are blowing, 
 And snow-wreaths crown my grave, 
 
 Think of the wondrous mercy 
 Of Him who came to save, 
 
 From swift, and sure, destruction, 
 
 Each contrite heart below. 
 And, "though their sins be scarlet," 
 
 Hath made them "white as snow." 
 
 Thus may I still, dear Jesus, 
 
 Be unto all I love 
 One who, "though dead, yet speaketh," 
 
 To draw their hearts above. 
 
 That in the heavenly mansions 
 
 Eternity may show 
 Not one sweet spirit missing 
 
 Of all I've loved below. 
 
 23 
 
354 Psalm xxiv. i. 
 
 Into Thine ear, dear Jesus, 
 I breathe this earnest prayer 
 
 Now fold me to Thy bosom, 
 To rest for ever there. 
 
 Psalm xxiv. i, 
 
 "I will bless the Lord at all times." 
 
 Tender mercies on my way, 
 FaUing softly, like the dew, 
 
 Sent me freshly every day, 
 I will bless the Lord for you. 
 
 Though I have not all I would. 
 Though to greater bliss I go, 
 
 Every present gift of good 
 To eternal Love I owe. 
 
 Source of all that comforts me. 
 Well of joy for which I long. 
 
 Let the song I sing to Thee 
 Be an everlasting song. 
 
VI, 
 
 FATHER AND MOTHER, 
 
'^^nb tl|eir cljilbreti atm anb call tijem blesacb/' 
 
FATHER AND MOTHER. 
 
 Memories, 
 
 The memories of departed ones ! 
 
 How beautiful they seem! 
 They are with us ever in our walks, 
 
 And lurk in every dream ; 
 And often, at the twilight hour, 
 
 They rise to bless our sight 
 With the radiance of the spirit-land, 
 
 With their soft, angelic light. 
 These memories of departed ones 
 
 Are blessings to us given 
 To draw us from this earth away. 
 
 And prepare us all for Heaven. 
 
 357 
 
358 Sleepi7ig, 
 
 Light. 
 
 The shadows of life melt into the Light of 
 eternity, at the place where Death triumphs 
 over Nature. 
 
 Sleeping, 
 
 Sleeping softly, sleeping sweetly! 
 
 Pain can never reach them more; 
 Sleeping softly, sleeping sweetly ! 
 
 All of earth, to them, is o'er. 
 That still sea which earth divides 
 
 From the better land beyond it, 
 Where the happy soul abides. 
 
 Sleeping softly, sleeping sweetly! 
 
 Mark their calm, unbroken rest! 
 Speaks it not of placid slumber 
 
 On a gentle Saviour's breast? 
 Speaks it not of peace so hallowed, 
 
 So transcendent, so divine. 
 
A. P. M. 359 
 
 That each stricken heart must whisper, 
 " Would that such a peace were mine " ? 
 
 Who that treads the shaded pathway 
 
 Of a weary world of care, 
 Who that feels how oft love sheddeth 
 
 O'er its severed bonds a tear, 
 Would not ask the peace unbroken 
 
 Which hath set its signet here? 
 
 Sleeping softly, sleeping sweetly! 
 
 Let not tears bedew their rest; 
 Sleeping softly, sleeping sweetly. 
 
 On a lovmcr Saviour's breast. 
 
 A. P. M. 
 
 We bend to-day o'er a hallowed form, 
 
 And our tears fall quietly down 
 As we look our last on a father's face, 
 With its tranquil peace, and its patient grace, 
 
 And hair like a silver crown. 
 
36o A. P. M. 
 
 As we touch our own to the dear cold hands, 
 
 From life's long labor at rest, 
 We notice a bunch of golden wheat, 
 Plucked as a token of love so sweet, 
 
 And laid on the silent breast. 
 
 Flowers would have whispered of fadeless 
 bloom 
 
 In a land where fall no tears, 
 But the ripe wheat tells of the toil, and care, 
 The patient waiting, the trusting prayer, 
 
 And the garnered good of years. 
 
 We knew through what labors his hands had 
 pressed. 
 Through what rugged places his feet, 
 And we joyed in the peace on his brow so 
 
 white, 
 As though touched already with heaven's own 
 light, 
 As it shone in the ripened wheat. 
 
 As each goes up from the fields of earth, 
 Bearing the treasures of life, 
 
Our Mother. 361 
 
 God looks for the gathered grains of good 
 From the ripened harvest that shining stood 
 But waiting the reaper's knife. 
 
 Then faithfully toil, that in death you may go 
 
 Not only with blossoms sweet, 
 Not bent with doubts, or burdened with 
 
 fears, 
 Or with dead, dry husks of life's wasted 
 years. 
 But laden with golden wheat. 
 
 Our Mother. 
 
 We have lost thee, we have lost thee, and 
 
 thy orphan children weep 
 As we lay our only parent down to her last 
 
 dreamless sleep ; 
 Ah, yes ! in loneliness of soul do we bewail 
 
 our loss, 
 Beloved mother in the truth, tried soldier of 
 
 the cross. 
 
362 Otu' Mother. 
 
 But if the lowly Lamb of God — He who 
 
 could raise the dead — 
 Tears such as angels weep upon the grave of 
 
 Lazarus shed, 
 May we not sorrow too for one we never can 
 
 restore — 
 A mother, whose maternal voice will come to 
 
 us no more? 
 
 We know she longed at times to lay her bur- 
 den down; 
 
 She, having meekly borne her cross, was wait- 
 ing for her crown; 
 
 The Angel of the covenant but wrought a 
 sweet release 
 
 When he touched the weary wheels of life, 
 and bade her conflict cease. 
 
 And now her ransomed spirit swells the rapt 
 angelic throng; 
 
 Her glad, triumphant voice repeats the enrap- 
 tured song; 
 
 / 
 
Our Mother. 363 
 
 A new and radiant crovv^n lies at the Father's 
 
 feet, 
 And her Hberated soul attests that rest is 
 
 sweet. 
 
 Who shall be ever on the watch like thee 
 
 when duty calls, 
 To wave the standard of our faith above our 
 
 Zion's walls? 
 The answer rests with God alone; let us in 
 
 hope abide : 
 When He requires the sacrifice, He will the 
 
 lamb provide. 
 
 But if among us should arise no gifted one 
 like thee. 
 
 Like " bread upon the waters " cast, thy min- 
 istry shall be ; 
 
 Its blessed influence shall extend even to com- 
 ing years, 
 
 And call the wayward wanderer back through 
 penitence and tears. 
 
364 The Saint's Departure. 
 
 Mother, we cannot call thee back, yet not 
 comfortless are we. 
 
 For He who gave thee still remains to lead 
 us on our way; 
 
 And while in this deep chastisement a Fa- 
 ther's hand appears, 
 
 Faith's struggling sunbeam intertwines a rain- 
 bow with our tears. 
 
 The Saints Departure. 
 
 "What! almost home?" "Yes, almost home," 
 
 she said, 
 And light seemed gleaming on her aged head. 
 "Jesus is very precious!" Those who near 
 Her bedside stood were thrilled those words 
 
 to hear. 
 "Toward His blest home I turn my willing 
 
 feet; 
 Hinder me not: I go my Lord to meet." 
 Silence ensued. She seemed to pass away 
 Serene, and quiet, as that summer day. 
 
The Saint's Departure. 365 
 
 "Speak," cried, through tears, her daughter, 
 
 bending low, 
 " One word, beloved mother, ere you go." 
 She spake that word, the last she spake on 
 
 earth, 
 In whispering tones — that word of wondrous 
 
 worth : 
 "Jesus!" The sorrowing listeners caught the 
 
 sound, 
 But angels heard it with a joy profound. 
 Back, at its mighty power, the gates unfold — 
 The gates of pearl that guard the streets of 
 
 gold. 
 The harpers with their harps took up the 
 
 strain, 
 And sang the triumphs of the Lamb again, 
 As through the open portals entered in 
 Another soul redeemed from death and sin. 
 And as from earth her spirit passed away, 
 To dwell for ever in the realms of day. 
 Those who were left to mourn could almost 
 
 hear 
 The strains of heavenly music strike the ear; 
 
366 Fold her Hands Gently. 
 
 And to their longing eyes by grace was given 
 In such a scene, as 'twere, a glimpse of hea- 
 ven. 
 
 Fold her Hands Gently. 
 
 Fold her hands gently o'er the quiet breast, 
 
 The placid sleeper ! 
 Her soul hath entered in its final rest, 
 
 Where angels keep her. 
 A peace is brooding o'er the face so pale. 
 Such as comes only from behind the veil, 
 As though the soul threw back one parting 
 
 glance, 
 In lingering pity, ere its rapt advance. 
 
 Gone but a little while before, not lost, 
 
 Buds bloom above thee; 
 Best mourned by those who knew thee most, 
 
 And knew to love thee, 
 Henceforth all Nature's fairest scenes shall be 
 To them the silent witnesses for thee ; 
 Though many memories bitterly they wake. 
 They shall be held the dearer for thy sake. 
 
Mother, 367 
 
 Farewell, dear one ! We bid a brief " Good- 
 night" 
 
 From our dim sphere; 
 Thy lovely face is folded from our sight 
 
 For ever here. 
 May it be ours, when at last we come, 
 If so our Father bless us, to our home. 
 When the gray shadow breaks to heaven's 
 
 dawning. 
 To hear thy welcome in a brighter morning. 
 
 Mother. 
 
 Would I replace the earthly bonds 
 
 Of mortal care and pain, 
 To call thee from thy blest abode 
 
 To toil on earth again? 
 
 One holy aim, one bright, bright prize, 
 Engaged thy fervent care — 
 
 To form thy spirit for the skies, 
 To lead thy children there. 
 
368 Mother, 
 
 The paths of death with glory shine, 
 
 Where saints the call obey ; 
 A light from heaven, an Arm divine, 
 
 Are round them on the way. 
 
 I saw, I felt, celestial aid 
 
 Attend the parting breath; 
 My soul was with thee through the shade. 
 
 And at the gates of death. 
 
 Sweet was the close, though all around 
 
 In silent anguish hung; 
 Calm was thy spirit, low the sound 
 
 That trembled on thy tongue. 
 
 Rest, and may we that bliss attain 
 
 Where thou art gone before; 
 And God shall join our souls again, 
 
 For death to part no more. 
 
/ Love thy Grave, 369 
 
 / Love thy Grave. 
 
 Mother, I love thy grave! 
 The violet, with its blossoms, blue, and mild, 
 Waves o'er thy head : when shall it wave 
 
 Above thy child? 
 
 'Tis a sweet flower, yet must 
 Its bright leaves to the coming tempest bow; 
 Dear mother, 'tis thy emblem : dust 
 
 Is on thy brow. 
 
 Where is thy spirit flown? 
 I gaze above : thy look is imaged there ; 
 I listen, and thy gentle tone 
 
 Is in the air. 
 
 Oh, bless thy weeping child ! 
 And o'er thy urn, religion's holiest shrine, 
 Oh, give tJiis spirit, undefiled. 
 
 To blend with thine. 
 
 24 
 
370 The Blessedness of Tears, 
 
 The Blessedness of Tears. 
 
 Who that has wept can e'er forget 
 Those darkened hours of pain, 
 
 When some fair love of earth has set, 
 Never to rise again? 
 
 While 'mid the depth of sorrow's night, 
 
 A far-off trembling ray- 
 Hath fallen on faith's upward sight. 
 
 Invisible by day. 
 
 And as the lonely heart hath kept 
 Its watch of pain, and prayer, 
 
 A tender, loving voice hath crept 
 Across the stern despair. 
 
 It whispers, "Stricken child of woe. 
 
 Turn from thy earthly loss; 
 Behold what healing blossoms blow 
 
 Around the heavy cross. 
 
A Little Way. 371 
 
 " Come unto Me, O anguished soul ! 
 From earth's illusive things ; 
 My peace o'er thy tired heart shall roll, 
 My strength sustain thy wings." 
 
 O only Source of joy! O Love 
 
 Precious beyond belief! 
 The soul that rests on Thee shall know 
 
 The blessedness of grief. 
 
 A Little Way. 
 
 A LITTLE way ! I know it is not far 
 To that dear home where my beloved are ; 
 And still my heart sits, like a bird, upon 
 The empty nest, and mourns its treasures 
 gone. 
 
 Plumed for their flight, 
 And vanished quite. 
 Ah me ! where is the comfort ? though I say 
 They have but journeyed on a little way. 
 
372 A Little Way, 
 
 A little way! At times they seem so near, 
 Their voices even murmur in my ear, 
 To all my duties loving presence lend, 
 And with sweet ministry my steps attend. 
 'Twas here we met, and parted company ; 
 Why should their gain be such a grief to me? 
 
 This sense of loss ! 
 
 This heavy cross ! 
 Dear Saviour, take the burden off, I pray, 
 And show me heaven is but — a little way. 
 
 A little way ! The sentence I repeat, 
 
 Hoping, and longing, to extract some sweet 
 
 To mingle with the bitter; from Thy hand 
 
 I take the cup I cannot understand. 
 
 And in my weakness give myself to Thee. 
 
 Although it seems so very, very far 
 
 To that dear home where my beloved are, 
 
 I know, I know, 
 
 It is not so ; 
 Oh, give me faith to feet it, when I say 
 That they are gone — gone but a little way. 
 
Fold Them, 373 
 
 Father and Mother. 
 
 Thou God of love ! beneath Thy sheltering 
 wings 
 
 We leave our holy dead 
 To rest in hope; from this world's sufferings 
 
 Their souls have fled. 
 
 Oh, when our souls are burdened with the 
 weight 
 
 Of life, and all its woes, 
 Let us remember them, and calmly wait 
 
 For our life's close. 
 
 Fold Them. 
 
 Fold them, O Father! in Thine arms, 
 And may they henceforth be 
 
 As messengers of love between 
 Our human hearts, and Thee. 
 
374 Sunset 
 
 Sunset. 
 
 Like a gleam of the sunset slow melting in 
 
 heaven ; 
 Like a star that is lost when daylight is 
 
 riven ; 
 Like a glad dream of slumber that wakens 
 
 to bliss ; — 
 They passed to the land of the holy from 
 
 this. 
 
 The 'pilgrimage fath shall no more be trod 
 "A rest rem^ains for the "people of God." 
 
VII. 
 
 HEAVENLY DAWN 
 
Heavenly Dawn, 
 
 Satisfied. 
 
 " I shall be satisfied when I awake with Thy likeness." 
 
 Tired, dear pilgrim hearts, of life's weary 
 
 way; 
 Tired of its sunless hours, and clouds cold, 
 
 and gray; 
 Tired quaffing the mixed cup of bitter, and 
 p sweet ; 
 Tired longing for dear ones here never to 
 
 meet. 
 
 Tired of scattering, and not gathering in ; 
 Tired of the wrestling with trial, and sin; 
 Tired masking by smiles the heart's hidden 
 
 grief; 
 Tired waiting for nightfall to bring you relief. 
 
 377 
 
378 Life's Years. 
 
 Rest comes with the Dawn of an endless to- 
 morrow ; 
 
 Its hours are not marked by heart-throbs of 
 sorrow ; 
 
 The smile of the Saviour scatters grief, sin 
 and pain, 
 
 While our dearest heart-treasures He gives us 
 again. 
 
 The darker the storm-clouds impending above, 
 More golden the tints of God's iris of love ; 
 So, trusting, and waiting the fast-ebbing tide, 
 Tired hearts shall ere long rest in Him, satis- 
 fied. 
 
 LIFE'S Years. 
 
 These years of life ! What do they seem ? 
 
 A little dream 
 Of pain and pleasure blent together, 
 A time of sharply-changing weather, 
 When brilliant sunbeams gleam, and die, 
 On heavy storm-clouds sailing by — 
 
Life's Years, 379 
 
 Where falling tears 
 Are bright with hope, and cold with fears. 
 
 The years, the clouds, have had their course; 
 
 Their mingled force 
 Has bowed my heart, and bent my head; 
 Sunshine and storm alike are fled. 
 And in their place a heavy gray 
 Dulls all the tinting of the day. 
 
 Shall growing light 
 Follow the gray? or deepening night? 
 
 What shall the future progress be 
 
 Of life with me? 
 God knows : I roll on Him my care ; 
 Night is 7iot night if He be there. 
 When daylight is no longer mine, 
 And stars forbidden are to shine, 
 
 I'll turn my eyes 
 To where eternal day shall rise. 
 
 That coming light no mortal cloud 
 Can quite enshroud; 
 
380 Western Light. 
 
 Through all our doubts, above the range 
 
 Of every fear, and every change, 
 
 My faith can see, with weary eye, 
 
 The Dazvn of heaven on earth's dim sky, 
 
 And from afar 
 Shines on my soul the Morning Star. 
 
 Western Light. 
 
 Behold the western evening light! 
 
 It melts in deepening gloom ; 
 So calmly Christians sink away, 
 
 Descending to the tomb. 
 
 The winds breathe low, the withering leaf 
 Scarce whispers from the tree; 
 
 So gently flows the parting breath 
 When good men cease to be. 
 
 How beautiful on all the hills 
 
 The crimson light is shed ! 
 'Tis like the peace the Christian gives 
 
 To mourners round his bed. 
 
Heavenly Dawn. 381 
 
 How mildly on the wandering cloud 
 
 The sunset beam is cast! 
 Tis like the memory left behind 
 
 When loved ones breathe their last. 
 
 Heavenly Dawn. 
 
 Slowly depart the shades of night 
 From woodland, stream and hill; 
 
 All nature in the growing light 
 Stirs with awakenmg thrill. 
 
 On every side what joyous notes 
 Welcome the new-born day! 
 
 Forth from a myriad swelling throats 
 Springs the exultant lay. 
 
 On the green hillside shade, and shine, 
 Like gentle breathings pass; 
 
 The hemlock, and the sturdy pine, 
 Wave like a robe of grass. 
 
382 The Voice of the Loi^d, 
 
 The clouds, and mists, of early dawn. 
 The solemn gloom of night, 
 
 Appear as though for ever gone 
 Before this golden light. 
 
 The scene a symbol seems to me 
 
 Of the transcendent bliss, 
 Of what the pardoned soul may see 
 
 Who leaves a world like this. 
 
 And o'er death's fearsome, awful night 
 
 Beholds a glory shine, 
 Until the soul is filled with light 
 
 From the pure Sun divine. 
 
 The Voice of the Lord. 
 
 " The voice of the Lord is mightier than the noise of 
 many waters." 
 
 When black the threatening clouds appear, 
 
 And storms my path invade. 
 That voice shall tranquilize each fear: 
 " 'Tis I ! Be not afraid !" 
 
The New Song, 383 
 
 The New Song. 
 
 Beyond the hills where suns go down, 
 And brightly beckon as they go, 
 
 I see the land of far renown — 
 
 The land which I so soon shall know. 
 
 Above the dissonance of time, 
 And discord of its many words, 
 
 I hear the everlasting chime 
 The music of unjarring chords. 
 
 I bid it welcome, and my haste 
 To join it cannot brook delay; 
 
 O song of morning, come at last! 
 And, ye who sing it, come away. 
 
 O song of light, and dawn, and bliss ! 
 
 Sound over earth, and fill these skies, 
 Nor ever, ever, ever cease 
 
 Thy soul-entrancing melodies. 
 
384 On the Threshold, 
 
 On the Threshold, 
 
 I'm returning, not departing; 
 
 My steps are homeward bound; 
 I quit the land of strangers 
 
 For a home on native ground. 
 
 I am rising, and not setting; 
 
 This is not night, but day; 
 Not in darkness, but in sunshine, 
 
 Like a star, I fade away. 
 
 All is well with me for ever; 
 
 I do not fear to go ; 
 My tide is but beginning 
 
 Its bright eternal flow. 
 
 I am leaving only shadows 
 
 For the true, and fair, and good ; 
 
 I must not, cannot, linger; 
 I would not thouGfh I could. 
 
The Border -Land, 385 
 
 This is not death's dark portal, 
 Tis hfe's golden gate, to me; 
 
 Link after link is broken, 
 And I at last am free. 
 
 I am going to the angels, 
 I am going to my God ; 
 
 I know the Hand that beckons, 
 I see the holy road. 
 
 Jesus, Thou wilt receive me, 
 And welcome me, above; 
 
 The sunshine which now fills me 
 Is Thine own smile of love. 
 
 The Border -Land. 
 
 Father, into Thy loving hands 
 
 My feeble spirit I commit 
 While wandering in these border-lands, 
 
 Until Thy voice shall summon it. 
 
 25 
 
386 The Dordei' -Laiid, 
 
 Father, I would not dare to choose 
 A longer life, an earlier death ; 
 
 I know not what my soul might lose 
 By shortened, or protracted, breath. 
 
 These border-lands are calm, and still, 
 And solemn are their silent shades; 
 
 And my heart welcomes them, until 
 The light of life's long evening fades. 
 
 I've heard them spoken of with dread, 
 As fearful, and unquiet, places — 
 
 Shades where the living, and the dead, 
 Look sadly in each other's faces ; 
 
 But since Thy hand hath led me here. 
 And I have seen the border-land — 
 
 Seen the dark river flowing near, 
 
 Stood on its brink, as now I stand — 
 
 There has been nothing to alarm 
 
 My trembling soul : how could I fear 
 
 While thus encircled with Thine arm ? 
 I never felt Thee half so near. 
 
The Border 'Land. 387 
 
 What should appall me in a place 
 
 That brings me hourly nearer Thee — 
 
 Where I may almost see Thy face? 
 Surely 'tis here my soul would be. 
 
 They say the waves are dark, and deep, 
 That faith has perished in the river; 
 
 They speak of death with fear, and weep ; 
 Shall my soul perish? Never, never! 
 
 I know that Thou wilt never leave 
 The soul that trembles while it clings 
 
 To Thee ; I know Thou wilt achieve 
 Its passage on Thine outstretched wings. 
 
 I cannot see the golden eate 
 Unfolding yet to welcome me ; 
 
 I cannot yet anticipate 
 
 The joy of heaven's jubilee; 
 
 But I will calmly watch, and pray. 
 Until I hear my Saviour's voice 
 
 Calling my happy soul away 
 To see His glory, and rejoice. 
 
388 The Other World. 
 
 The Other World. 
 
 It lies around us like a cloud, 
 
 A world we do not see, 
 Yet the sweet closing of an eye 
 
 May bring us there to be. 
 
 Its gentle breezes fan our cheek ; 
 
 Amid our worldly cares, 
 Its gentle voices whisper love, 
 
 And mingle with our prayers. 
 
 Sweet hearts around us throb, and beat, 
 Sweet helping hands are stirred, 
 
 And palpitates the veil between 
 With breathings almost heard. 
 
 The silence, awful, sweet and calm, 
 They have no power to break. 
 
 For mortal words are not for them 
 To utter, or partake. 
 
The Other World. 389 
 
 So, then, so soft, so sweet, they glide, 
 
 So near to press they seem, 
 They seem to lull us to our rest. 
 
 And melt into our dream. 
 
 And in the hush of rest they bring 
 
 'Tis easy now to see 
 How lovely, and how sweet, a pass 
 
 The hour of death may be — 
 
 To close the eye, and close the ear, 
 Wrapped in a trance of bliss. 
 
 And gently dream in loving arms, 
 To swoon to that from this. 
 
 Scarce knowing if we wake, or sleep, 
 
 Scarce asking where we are, 
 To feel all evil sink away, 
 
 All sorrow, and all care. 
 
 Sweet souls around us, watch us still, 
 
 Press nearer to our side ; 
 Into our thoughts, into our prayers, 
 
 With gentle helpings glide. 
 
390 Many Mansions. 
 
 Let death between us be as naught, 
 A dried and vanished stream ; 
 
 Your joy be the reahty, 
 
 Our suffering Hfe the dream. 
 
 Many Mansions. 
 
 " Let not your heart be trouble d^' jfesiis said; 
 
 " My Father's house has mansions large, and 
 fair ; 
 I go before yon to prepare yotir place ; 
 
 I will return to take yon zvith me there y 
 
 As when the weary traveller gains 
 The height of some o'erlooking hill, 
 
 His heart revives if o'er the plain 
 
 He sees his home, though distant still, 
 
 Thus, when the Christian pilgrim views 
 By faith his mansion in the skies. 
 
 The sight his fainting strength renews, 
 And wings his speed to win the prize. 
 
/ shall be Satisfied, 391 
 
 " 'Tis there," he says, " I am to dwell 
 With Jesus in the realms of day; 
 Then shall I bid my cares farewell, 
 And He shall wipe my tears away." 
 
 Jesus, on Thee our hope depends 
 To lead us on to Thine abode, 
 
 Assured our home will make amends 
 For all our toil while on the road. 
 
 / SHALL BE Satisfied. 
 
 Not here ! not here ! Not where the spark- 
 ling waters 
 Fade into mocking sands as we draw near; 
 Where, in the wilderness, each footstep fal- 
 ters, 
 I shall be satisfied; but oh! not here! 
 
 There is a land where every pulse is thrilling 
 With rapture earth's sojourners may not 
 know, 
 
392 / shall be Satisfied. 
 
 Where heaven's repose the weary heart is 
 stilling, 
 And peacefully life's storm-tossed currents 
 flow. 
 
 Satisfied? satisfied? The spirit's yearning 
 For sweet companionship with kindred minds, 
 
 The silent love that here meets no returning, 
 The inspiration which no language finds — 
 
 I shall be satisfied. The soul's vague long- 
 ings, 
 
 The aching void which nothing earthly fills? 
 Oh! what desires upon my soul are thronging 
 
 As I look upward to the heavenly hills. 
 
 Thither my weak and weary steps are tending. 
 Saviour, and Lord! with Thy frail child abide, 
 
 Guide me toward home, where, all my wan- 
 derings ended, 
 I then shall see Thee, and ''be satisfied.'* 
 
VIII. 
 
 HEAVEN. 
 
HEAVEN. 
 
 Hea ven. 
 
 Where shall I find an image for the 
 thought 
 Which clusters round the utterance of the 
 
 word 
 Whereby all purest hopes and faiths are stir- 
 red? 
 Through all earth's treasures I have vainly 
 
 sought. 
 
 Yet I remember once upon a brow 
 Did I behold a radiance so divine, 
 So filled with peace, it moves this soul of 
 mine 
 
 With its remote remembrance even now. 
 
 395 
 
39 6 Rest, 
 
 And I recall the record of that life — 
 The patient waiting at Christ's blessed feet, 
 The perfect love that made submission sweet, 
 
 The faith that hushed all elements of 
 strife — 
 
 Until I find a feeble type is given, 
 In that grand hfe, and in that face serene, 
 Of what our fancy, clay-bound, and terrene, 
 
 Can picture of the blessedness of Heaven. 
 
 Rest. 
 
 " There remaineth, therefore, a rest to the people of God." 
 
 A REST remains for us beyond earth's sad- 
 ness, 
 A calm, clear sky, where clouds are never 
 seen, 
 A home above, where life is perfect gladness, 
 And every thought is bathed in joy serene. 
 
Rest, 
 
 397 
 
 A rest in Heaven! O ye who, bowed in sor- 
 row, 
 See only shadows gathering on hfe's sea, 
 Look through your falling tears to that bright 
 morrow, 
 And think — oh, think! — how calm your rest 
 will be. 
 
 Think that your tears will then be dried for 
 ever ; 
 Think that your hearts will nevermore grow 
 sad ; 
 Think of the dear ones who will leave you 
 never ; 
 Think, think of this, ye sorrowing, and be 
 glad. 
 
 Ah ! should we murmur now at what befalls 
 us ? 
 The Lord who grieves us knoweth what is 
 best; 
 By every touch of His just rod He calls us, 
 And tells us softly this is not our rest. 
 
398 Rest 
 
 Thrice-blessed thought! He whispers to us 
 ever 
 Behind the clouds that hide Him from the 
 world, 
 A rest remains for us — a rest for ever — 
 Where Death's dark banner is no more un- 
 furled. 
 
 Oh, let us, then, press on with faith unfeign- 
 ing, 
 To that fair city in the "better land," 
 With patient meekness, calm, and uncom- 
 plaining, 
 Until we mingle with the white-robed band. 
 
 Beyond the storm a cloudless sky is shining, 
 Above the cross is hung a starry crown ; 
 
 Then let us wear life's thorns without repin- 
 ing, 
 Till for eternal flowers we lay them down. 
 
Heavenly Rest. 399 
 
 Hea venl V Rest. 
 
 Sweet is the name of rest! 
 
 How vmch the word conveys ! 
 It is to be supremely blest 
 
 In the bright world of praise. 
 
 It is to rest from sin, 
 
 Which here will still endure— 
 The holy place to enter in, 
 
 And be for ever pure. 
 
 It is to rest from pain, 
 
 From grief, from doubt, from fear, 
 No sickness, parting, death, again, 
 
 Nor any falling tear. 
 
 It is to rest with Him 
 
 Whom now, unseen, we trust, 
 With cherubim, and seraphim, 
 
 And spirits of the just. 
 
400 Oh?' Father which art in Hcaz'cn, 
 
 A perfect, cloudless rest, 
 
 And endless Sabbatli-day, 
 Blest portion, yet to be possessed, 
 
 And never fade away. 
 
 Ol'R Father which art ix Heavex. 
 
 I MET a little child, whose golden hair 
 Around her sunny fece in clusters hung; 
 And as she wove her king-cup chain, she 
 sung 
 Her household melodies — tliose strains that 
 
 bear 
 The hearer back to Eden. Surely, ne'er 
 A brighter vision blest my dreams. "Whose 
 
 child 
 Art tliou " — I said, ** sweet girl?" In ac- 
 cent mild 
 She answered, " Mother's." When I ques- 
 tioned. *' Where 
 Her dwelling was," — again she answered, 
 ''Home!" 
 
Heaven. aqi 
 
 "Mother! and Home!" Oh blessed igno- 
 rance ! 
 
 Or rather blessed knowledge! What ad- 
 vance 
 Farther than this shall all the years to come 
 
 With all their lore effect? There are but 
 given 
 
 Two names of higher note, — " Father, and 
 Heaven." 
 
 Hea VEN. 
 
 Too long to higher good, and beauty, blind, 
 I plucked the flowers upon my path that 
 grew, 
 Till, wounded by the thorns, my tortured mind 
 
 Resolved a better country to pursue. 
 Land of the pilgrim's hope, and fond desire, 
 The land where wearied hearts at last may 
 flee, 
 
 26 
 
402 Heaven. 
 
 To thee at length my quickened thoughts as- 
 pire, 
 Mine eye is turned, my wings are plumed, 
 for thee ; 
 And thus I bid, without a tear, farewell 
 
 To all that charmed my sublunary sense, 
 Enough for me if I may rise, and dwell 
 Where joy shall make no work for peni- 
 tence. 
 O land where wearied hearts at length may 
 
 flee, 
 Mine eye is turned, my wings are plumed, 
 for thee. 
 
 THE END. 
 
/ 
 
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