' PS 5515 J. ». X i! i.4 if OUR FATHER which art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy name. Thy kingdom come; Thy will be done in earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this day our daily bread; and forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors. And lead us not into i temptation, but deliver us from evU; for Thine is the kingdom and the power and the glory forever. V Amen. fbss PS55\5 PRESENTED m THE PRAYER BEAUTIFUL Other Books by Anna Jane Granniss SKIPPED STITCHES. Verses. Contains the two songs, The Old Red Cradle; Resting in the Old Arm Chair. Cloth, 16mo, 50 cts. SANDWORT. Verses. Illustrated with Author's Home and scenes from Nature. Cloth, 16mo, 50 cents. SPEEDWELL. Verses. Cloth, 16mo. 50 cents. (Portrait Ed. of these books combined, |L25.) A CHRISTMAS SNOWFLAKE. An illustrated rhyme for chil- dren. Cloth, 16mo, 50 cents. THE BOY WITH THE HOE. Poem. 25 cents. THE STAR CHART AND CARD SYSTEM. For use in Sunday Schools. Undenominational, 15 cents. THE PRAYER BEAUTIFUL. Verses of Faith and Nature. Illustrated. $1.00. The Bookstore East Northfield, Massachusetts Author's mother at eighty-three Louisa Guanniss 1821-1913 The Prayer Beautiful AND OTHER VERSE By ANNA JANE GRANNISS Illustrated Drawings by Alfred Hepworth THE BOOKSTORE EAST NORTHFIELD, MASS. Copyright, 1916 Anna Jane Granniss All rights reserved Second Thousand '^•# Press of E. L. Hildreth & Co. Brattleboro, Vermont 1916 APR -3 '24 Inscribed to My Friends in The Dark Hour of the World, Nineteen Hundred and Sixteen Dear friends, draw near! Bring your true hearts Closer to mine, and let me share The gladness of my growing faith In God, and in the power of prayer. Through all these silent years of mine, I have been proving God does care; Now satisfied, my gladdened soul Mounts upward into clearer air. Earth's darkest hour comes on apace— Though shudd'ring kingdoms reel and fall, What has this weakest child to fear. Whose Father works behind it all? Nations may strive — air-crafts pursue Till heaven departs e'en as a scroll; There is no possible device Whereby to overtake my soul; And poised aloft on wings of Faith, My chastened spirit comprehends God holds the Universe as close. As I, the circle of my friends. The Two Wings, Plainville, Conn., May, 1916, ILLUSTRATIONS Louisa Granniss (author's mother) at 83 frontispiece Where the Violets Went to Church .... 25 Where the Wood Road Leads 41 The Old Home 57 CONTENTS The Prayer Beautiful 7 The Little White Chamber Over the Hall . . 10 Better Than Gold 11 As Wings to the Bird, So Is Faith to the Soul 12 The Joy of Being Sinless 13 The Two Gardens 14 Day Lilies 16 To My Mother in Heaven 17 I Will Be Glad 21 Shepherd of All the Straying 23 Wood Violets at Church 25 June is June 27 A Friend Lives on in His Books .... 29 Lift Higher Still 30 From the Same Cup 32 My Heart's Holiday 34 To a Phebe 36 My Father's Axe 37 The Flowers Have Come 40 Where the Wood Road Leads 41 Early Leaves in a Late Snow 42 March 43 Missions 44 Yield a Little 45 In His Stead 46 ^ Contents Come Into the Sunshine 48 The Unacknowledged Guest 50 My Convoy 52 A Tragedy 53 An Easter Thought 54 The Lesson of the Oak 54 The Violet on the Street 56 An Old Home Revisited 57 The Fall of the Lilies 59 Satisfy Thyself in Me 60 The Captain Knew 61 The Dream of Roses 62 The Dream of Peace 63 As By Fire 65 The Forfeited Wage 66 The Soul's Fear-Cry ........ 68 After the Stress 69 THE PRAYER BEAUTIFUL The Prayer Beautiful THE PRAYER BEAUTIFUL AS my loved mother at the close of day Began to teach her little ones to pray, Teach us, dear Elder Brother, how to say The Prayer Beautiful which Thou hast given To offer, "Our Father which art in heaven." Give us the contrite heart; the humble tone Which will not rudely j ar against the throne ; Teach us those reverent accents of Thine own As when, for Thy disciples. Thou didst frame With lips so sinless: "Hallowed be Thy name.'* The kingdoms of the earth cannot endure — Nothing abides which is not wholly pure ; But we would build our faith on something sure— Our souls cry out for an abiding home; We want to say in truth, "Thy kingdom come.' Dear Elder Brother, join Thy voice divine, Lest we should falter now, as we resign Our wayward wills entirely unto Thine — O Christ of God, the Father's only Son, Teach us, like Thee to say, "Thy will be done.' The world will never help us — few are just; Some seem to serve Thee only when they must; None intercedes, dear Brother, as Thou dost — Teach us that spirit-service Thou hast given, To do Thy will "In earth as it is in heaven." 8 The Prayer Beautiful The famine in the land is very sore ; Our souls are lean, and yet door after door Denies us food till we can fast no more — Oh^ lead us back, dear Brother, to be fed; We pray, "Give us this day our daily bread/* We each do bear a burden on our heart; And none can lift for us the smallest part. For all are burdened, and none has the art To cancel obligations with regrets — Give us compassion, "And forgive us our debts.** Behold our wounded spirits as we bring The wrong which rankles, and the words that sting; We do forgive while to Thy hand we cling — Withdraw our hearts from pride's unyielding fet- ters; Then we can say, "As we forgive our debtors.** We know Thou didst for thirty years and three Live in the flesh of our humanity Tempted and tried — so even now are we — Wilt Thou, as Captain of a free salvation. Lead us? "And lead us not into temptation.** The world is weaving chains with which to bind Our heart's affections, and alas, we find We have no strength of purpose, nor of mind — We lose ourselves ; in Thee we find retrieval ; Oh, wait not, "But deliver us from evil I** The Prayer Beautiful 9 We build our little empires where we seek To rule each other — nay, we are not meek; We're self -exalted, yet we are so weak! Teach us humility against that hour; Yea, "For Thine is the kingdom and the power." The rulers of the earth rule for a day; Their splendors gather rust and fall away; The sceptered hand yields surely to decay; There is no luster on our own life-story Unless we share Thy passion, "And the glory." And when the light fails here, if there can be Some work of ours which seemeth unto Thee Worthy completion in Eternity, Oh, let us sit within the Light which never Fails nor fades, and work for Thee "Forever." We thank Thee, blessed Jesus, we can say Thy Prayer Beautiful with Thee to-day! Yet, should we falter sometimes, as we pray, Do Thou, as mothers do, begin again, And say It with us to the last "Amen"! 10 The Little White Chamber THE LITTLE WHITE CHAMBER OVER THE HALL A WEE white chamber over the hall With a window toward the west; Red roses clamber along the wall, And by times, they seem to lift and fall, As though childish fingers pink and small, Were plucking at those loved best. In this wee white room no more at night Is the tiny bed turned down; But on the wall in the western light. There is framed a little girl in white, And her blue eyes seem to laugh outright Through her tumbled curls of brown. Day after day, when the sun hangs low And red in the western sky, A sorrowful woman climbs the stair. And goes to that silent chamber there. And sits alone in the rocking chair. For an empty lullaby. And then she lifts from their resting place — So tenderly, one by one — A child's small garments of mull and lace; She holds them close to her sad white face, Then lays them back in their tiny case. And weeps in the setting sun. Better Than Oold 11 Out in the world there are childish feet With no mother's hand to guide; And oh, the dangers such children meet! How can they always keep pure and sweet, If they find no sure and safe retreat Where a little child may bide? silent chambers over the hall With your smooth unrumpled bed! The little ones pictured on your wall. How they try to beckon, strive to call. To plead for these others weak and small, That they sleep here in their stead! BETTER THAN GOLD GOOD friends are better than fine gold! I find it sweet as I grow old To prove in you this happy truth To which I held in early youth, And having proved shall ever hold: Good friends are better than fine gold! AS WINGS TO THE BIRD, SO IS FAITH TO THE SOUL The bird has its wings Lighteth it ever so low — Let the reed bend and blow — The bird has its wings; Exulting it springs, It mounts up and sings — Ah, the bird has its wings! The soul has its faith Sinketh it ever so low — Let the old supports go; The soul has its faith; It catches new breath. It soars beyond death — Ah, the soul has its faith! The Joy of Being Sinless IS THE JOY OF BEING SINLESS OH, the joy of being sinless! This the joy of heaven will be; No more struggle, no more failure- Free from sin, forever free. Oh, the joy of sometime walking With no burden pressing sore; With no sense of guilt or weakness — Free from sin forevermore. Oh, the joy of sometime standing Radiant at my Saviour's side; In the fullness of His presence. Every longing satisfied. Oh, the joy of sometime waking Something like Him, where He is; Making one among the chosen Known forevermore as His. Oh, the joy of living, loving! Heart with heart in sweet accord. In a harmony unbroken — One forever with the Lord ! IJ^ The Two Gardens THE TWO GARDENS I NTO Eden's Garden of pure delight The serpent crept — Over the earth fell the pall of night — Creation wept. A pang thrilled through the Infant World; A tainted breath Stole in where flower and fern lay curled, And touched with death. By all things living, doom was spelled — Naught was exempt. When the hiss of that subtle serpent held God in contempt. Out from the Garden of pure delight, A sword of flame Drave forth the guilty in sullied white. And crimson shame. The serpent crawled after, in subtle slime. To fang each heel; Till out of the Godhead in full of time Came the repeal. The Two Gardens 15 II To the Garden of Olives in anguish sore. The Saviour went; By the mighty weight of the sin He bore, His soul was rent. Even the Father withdrew His face — That battle grim Must be fought alone, in that secret place. And fought by Him. Forth from that Garden with sword and stave. They drave Him then; To be Sin was His only way to save The souls of men. Up Calvary's hill with His cross He toiled — Creation quailed — That day, the serpent's power was foiled — Christ had prevailed. They hung Him there — they sealed His tomb; Bound hands and feet; But He came forth and revoked the doom — His victory complete. 16 ^^y Lilies DAY LILIES OD gathers His lilies when He will ; But those which remain pure white May only bloom in the earthly fields, Just from morning until night. G He would never dare to leave them here To the dangers of the dark, Lest the evil things that fly by night, Should leave some sullying mark. So the sweet day lilies wait for Him, And after the sun is set He comes, and He gently carries them Where no flower has faded yet. Then, dear mothers, do not sadly grieve When you find your flowers less; By such tender hands they have been borne To the fields of blessedness ! And you know your lilies-of-a-day Will never be touched with blight — Whatever may come to those you keep. These, are kept for you, pure white. To My Mother in Heaven 17 TO MY MOTHER IN HEAVEN "In my Father's house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to pre- pare a place for you." John Uf.: 2. WHICH one of all those mansions fair Is now your home, I do not know; Nor if its shining windows bear An outlook on our world below; But it is sweet indeed to rest In my belief that you were known In those glad regions of the blest — Were met, and welcomed by your own, To that long since prepared place. Which Jesus promised there should be — Dear mother, have you seen His face? And will He shortly call for me? He did not leave me comfortless; The Comforter He promised came — I've yielded Him my life to bless Such as I may, in His sweet name. 18 To My Mother in Heaven II Dear mother^ has your memory kept That little dark-eyed alien child Who wept one day because you wept^ And smiled again, because you smiled? The dear Lord laid it on my heart To wrestle much for her in prayer; That she might choose the reaper's part, And for that blessed work prepare. If it be yours to minister To souls on earth, salvation's heirs, O mother, minister to her. And win an answer to my prayers ; That she may heed her Master's call To labor in His harvest field ; That she may, consecrating all, Be for His service signed and sealed. Ill The precious Book you left to me Is dearer than them all beside ; The Book of childhood memory Is now my counselor and guide. So patiently its truths you told To my unfolding childish mind ; Now, in its pages worn and old My way to heaven and you I find. To My Mother in Heaven 19 IV The little home you lately left I long to make a Bethel-Rest; Where tempted ones, and those bereft May gather strength to be their best. Beneath the shelter of its wings, Some sin-sick soul might haply stay. To learn somewhat of heavenly things. Then go rejoicing on its way. I do not know which mansion fair Is now your happy dwelling place, But I believe it is somewhere Within the shining of His face. Trust me, dear mother, here below My blest inheritance to prove; I keep the altar fire aglow With Faith, and Hope, and yearning Love. The Two Wings To My Mother in Heaven VI Withdrawn A Power reached down and drew her up ; That's what it is — The eyes which do not answer mine. Are meeting His. And He, the Lord she loved so well. So holds that gaze, It cannot be drawn back again To earthly ways. The ears now closed to mortal words Of praise or cheer. Are 'raptured now with that "Well done !" They longed to hear. The lips which do not meet my own In quick return, Are wearing smiles which even I Would fail to earn. The hands, unwearied, find at last Their glad employ; The feet, unhindered, go their way From joy to joy. Christ keeps His promise to His own; That's what it is — No separation after all Since I am His. / Will Be Glad 21 I WILL BE GLAD 1WILL learn to be glad in the life that is mine ! Even when my own soul passes under eclipse, I'll rejoice in the sun, and the stars as they shine ; I will praise our Creator with glad grateful lips. I will learn to be glad — I'll forbid my own heart E'en to brood the complaints which I never give tongue — Out of doors one small dafFy is doing its part; In the eaves the Lord's sparrows are feeding their young. Shall I let that lone dafFy from out the cold sod Miss the welcome from me it has right to expect? Shall I let it unnoticed look up to its God, In a silent appeal for my slight and neglect ? I'll be glad for that daffy — I'll make it my boast Just to tell of its color, its courage and grace — The one sole brave survivor of that golden host. Which, but only last spring, lighted up the whole place. Shall I let the Lord's sparrows build here in the eaves. Without learning more fully to trust in His care? Shall my soul cease to joy in the good it receives, Just for dread of the ills which it may have to bear ? 22 I Will Be Glad I'll be glad for these sparrows that twitter and build ; Life to them is as sweet as my own is to me — If my Father takes note when their voices are stilled, Then no evil can harm me, which He does not see. While I wait for the inflowing tide of new strength, Shall I fold my weak hands and do nothing but sigh? There's a tree out of doors, which is dead half its length. And its heart is laid bare to the storms that pass by. Yet that poor dying tree is not wholly aggrieved, Although blossom and bee never visit it more; Because since the last time that it blossomed and leaved, A dear, white-breasted nuthatch has lived at its core. I'll be glad for that tree in its time of decay. That a little bird chooses its heart for a nest ; It may be as the leaves of my life fall away, There will come to my heart some sweet thing for its guest. I will learn to be glad in the Lord's humble things — I will cease to be moved by the things which annoy ; And some day my glad spirit will find itself wings. Which will bear me away to the fulness of joy. Shepherd of All the Straying SHEPHERD OF ALL THE STRAYING O SHEPHERD of all the straying, I want to be gathered in; For I fear these fields of freedom- They are tracked and trailed with sin. I want to be fed, and folded Where the others rest in peace; Where the sound of world-wolves baying In my frightened ears will cease. Good Shepherd, come out and seek me ! I'm a sheep not hard to find — On the far side of the pasture Is where I strayed behind. I heard Thee gently calling, And I saw the others go; But I'd spied some pleasant herbage And wanted to taste it so ! But a foe unseen lay hidden — I was hurt before I knew; Instead of the tender herbage I'm bitten, — and hungry too. Dear Shepherd of all the straying, I am such a sorry sheep ! So tired of my own vain bleating — I want to feel safe — and sleep. 2Ji, Shepherd of All the Straying I'm afraid of sounds around me; I'm lame, and the way is rough; And unless you come and find me, I'm a lost sheep sure enough. Leave the flock for a little moment. Good Shepherd of all that stray, And seek this silly, heedless sheep Which chose for itself to-day. O Shepherd, I am so weary ! I want to be gathered in And folded by Thee forever. Afar from the fields of sin ! Wood Violets at Church 25 WOOD VIOLETS AT CHURCH HALF hidden in the shelter of a fern They stood — shy^ silent, wondering and awed; The pale wood violets in their crystal urn, Close to the altar in the House of God. The place was strange — no sunbeams 'round them played ; They felt alone — no woodsy thing came near; And when the great bell tolled they grew afraid, And whispered timidly, "Why are we here?" A gentle breeze breathed softly through the fern, "Bide quietly awhile and you will know !" And as they waited patiently to learn, The people came with reverent steps, and slow. The great bell ceased, and all the place grew still— With bended heads the congregation stood; The violets felt the meaning with a thrill — "They worship Him whose Presence fills our wood!" "Holy, holy, holy. Lord God Almighty'' — Into the stillness stole that solemn bar; The violets gave assent inaudibly — "They're praising Him whose fragrant breath we are ! 26 Wood Violets at Church The preacher read the sacred Word, and prayed, And with his people paid the morning vow ; The violets no longer felt afraid ; 'Twas all of Him who taught their heads to bow. And when to notes of gratitude and faith The people paid their tribute full and free. The violets exhaled their sweetest breath. And gave to Him who gave them power to be. The sermon done, a shower of needed rain Darkened the skies till all the church grew dim; Then there arose the glad triumphant strain Of adoration breathed in that old hymn: "0 worship the King all glorious above. And gratefully sing His wonderful love; Our Shield and Defender, the Ancient of Days, Pavilioned in splendor, and girded with praise. ''His bountiful care what tongue can recite? It breathes in the air, it shines in the light; It streams from the hills, it descends to the plain. And sweetly distills in the dew and the rain." And when at last the benediction fell Upon the waiting people as they stood. The violets shared a peace they could not tell — 'Twas like His "H-u-s-h!" at nightfall in their wood. June is June 27 S JUNE IS JUNE UNBEAMS dancing over, under; Trees aleaf, and flowers abloom — What cares any heart, I wonder, Now, for all the winter's gloom? Such sweet hopes, and hidden treasures. Do the cool green coverts hold ; In the joy of June's full measures Who remembers years grow old? See ! the wind across the meadows Sets the daisies all ablow; Running after flying shadows. That the scudding cloud-caps throw. Why, the buttercups are tipping Over all the morning dew ! A pair of butterflies in sipping. Do not find enough for two. Saucy Wind ! now do be quiet ; Let the wee things break their fast ; Just as they begin to try it. Then you must come rushing past. Now it's off across the clover; But the careful clovers know How to cheat the vagrant rover — Hold their sweets, and let it blow. 28 June is June Butterflies and bees assembling, Hang and sip till satisfied — Clovers, clovers, all a-trembling, Have you one cell left untried? Here's a moth that lies a-dying. For a sip of nectar sweet ; On a daisy's heart it's lying; Two white petals at its feet. All night long it goes a-dancing. Till the morning flower-bells ring; And last night a firefly glancing. Singed its pretty velvet wing. "What care I for such vain fancies .'*" Someone says, whose love of gain. Every power of mind entrances. While the summers wax and wane. June is June, for all September's Greed to turn its green to gold — Blest is he who scarce remembers Other years have all grown old ! A Friend Lives on in His Books 29 A FRIEND LIVES ON IN HIS BOOKS WHEN you sit in a muse with your books on their shelf. And so long for the friend whom the years have removed, Just remember there's nothing so much like himself As a book he has written or one he has loved. If you sigh for the sound of his voice as of old, Go and take down the book which he read to you there ; Find the place where he paused, while he earnestly told How this passage exalted his soul like a prayer. Do you long for the answering light of his eye, When your efforts are crowned with success in your art? Just read over the book which he gave with "Good bye !" And the look of his eyes will come back to your heart. Do you long for companionship.^ Go to the shelf Where his books still remain, tho' your friend be removed. And remember there's nothing so much like himself, As the books he has written, or those he has loved. so Lift Higher Still LIFT HIGHER STILL "And you hath he quickened, who were dead in trespasses and sins; wherein in time past ye walked according to the course of this world, according to the prince of the power of the air, the spirit that now worketh in the children of dis- obedience/* Ephesians 2: 1, 2. THE dear Lord Jesus lifted me From my despair and misery; He lifted me to higher ground — But, ah, the Powers of the air, Like evil birds they found me there. I heard them circle me around, And shuddered at the grewsome sound; The flapping of a dusky wing Took from me all the heart to sing; The eager croaking of their voice Stifled each impulse to rejoice — I knew they did not mean to fly. But waited for my faith to die; If doubt and fear could make me dumb, I knew the downward swoop would come. And so, with my whole soul afraid, I lifted up my voice and prayed. "O dear Lord Jesus, lift me still Beyond these winged Powers of ill; These subtle Powers that soar to kill — Lift Higher Still SI Lift up, where evil birds of prey Wait not to catch my soul away — Beyond earth's highest snow-capped hill, Beyond the summit of my will, Into that heavenly atmosphere. Where one sure Refuge stands out clear. Lift me. Lord Jesus, higher still. Until my heart expand and fill With Thine own Spirit's vital breath ; Till my poor fainting, frightened faith Expires in love that knows no death." From the Same Cup FROM THE SAME CUP ONCE again, in this sorrow which now comes to you, Christ accounts you as worthy to follow Him through That hour, when in anguish of spirit He prayed To His Father, and asked if the cup might be stayed — Try to thank Him, dear heart, as your lips touch the brim. For thus letting you drink from the same cup with Him. the nearness of Christ! Close, close to the brim. With one who can drink from the same cup with Him! By the way of the cup, which He chooses to fill, You are being led into the Father's own will — By your sorrow and pain, unto you it is given To find Him in the way which leads surest to heaven. He is leading you on to partake of His best. In first proving you His by an unfailing test. the nearness of Christ! Close, close to the brim. With one who can drink from the same cup with Him! From the Same Cup S3 Be no longer afraid, neither troubled of heart. When called into the Garden a little apart — Let the gay world go by, its false glory will dim; He has chosen you from it to suffer with Him; And if chosen to suffer — Oh, infinite gain ! He has chosen you also to share in His reign. the nearness of Christ! Close, close to the brim. With one who can drink from the same cup rvith Him! Sj^ My Heart's Holiday MY HEART'S HOLIDAY To My Heart POOR old troubled heart of mine! Beating on through shade and shine; Beating for me all these years, Through my pain, and toil, and tears; You have earned a recompense; So before I journey hence. And before you rest for aye. Choose yourself a holiday. Suddenly I seem to see All the dull monotony; Beating on without a rest In a selfish woman's breast. While she makes her selfish claims, And pursues her selfish aims — Now, my heart, just have your way — Speak ! I hasten to obey. My Heart to Me Bend your slow reluctant feet Into that grief-stricken street; Lend your hands to that mean task Someone needs but dares not ask. My Heart's Holiday S5 Go and bid to join your feast Those accounted as the least; Rest not till you clasp and hold Halt, and blind, and maimed, and old. When each impulse good and sweet. You perform with hands and feet; When I prompt, and you obey. Then, I have my holiday! To a Phebe TO A PHEBE Phebe Almeda Holcomb The faithful friend and companion of -many winters I 'VE had a royal summer guest! Sir Baity Oriole — He came in gay flame-colored vest, And sang with all his soul. The sparrow's sharp persistent cry Sounds all day from the eaves ; And other happy birds flit by And sing among the leaves. The robins come just when they please And look about the lawn; They've held delightful matinees All summer, just at dawn. Sometimes a catbird's rhapsody Bursts out upon the ear; And I, for that fine minstrelsy, Drop everything to hear. And yet, sometimes I'm deaf and blind To all these birds of grace. Because, alas ! I cannot find A Phebe on the place. My Father's Axe 37 MY FATHER'S AXE My remembrance of my father is but shadowy and dim, When I seek his rugged fea- tures to lovingly re- call; But I have an humble keepsake which more plainly speaks of him Than could any painted por- trait left me here upon the wall. Of the things my heart holds dearest, time and change are making spoil; Year by year I find my treasures growing pitifully less; But there is one rude memento, honest implement of toil, Which through all life's varied changes I rejoice to still possess. For the axe my father wielded in his early man- hood's prime Keeps its old accustomed corner in the safety of the shed — E'en the axe my father wielded in the happy olden time, Ay, the axe which earned my shelter, with my porridge and my bread. S8 My Father's Axe I have always loved the upland, when clothed white with winter snow; Loved the strange mysterious silence of the deep untrodden wood, Where the winds, with muffled voices, seemed to whisper soft and low Things the woodman and his children have believed they understood. Oh, those far-ofF winter mornings, when the snow slept on the hill ! With the good axe newly sharpened for the labor of the day. There was music in the ringing of its swift strokes, keen and shrill. When I knew the arm that swung it was my strong support and stay. With a woman's understanding, as I read in later times. Of dishonor found in places of high confidence and trust ; Of embezzlements, and intrigues, and a host of kindred crimes. Which have brought the proud and haughty to their judgment in the dust; When I see the snares and pitfalls in the higher walks of life; When I see the fearful prices, such as men will dare to pay To secure the badge of victor in a most unholy strife. Making forfeit of the future, for the gain of gold to-day ; My Father's Axe 89 It is then that I can glory in my father's humble worth ; In his principles and precepts, and his tireless industry — It is as his loyal daughter I rejoice in lowly birth. And the sense of obligation, which he handed down to me. Some may find their pride and pleasure in their ancestry and gold; In rare legacies, and heirlooms, on their pedestals enthroned ; But the legacy I cherish is the memory I hold Of my father's honest labor, and the good old axe he owned. JfO The Flowers Have Come THE FLOWERS HAVE COME OH, joy! go tell the keepers; Go swiftly, wake the sleepers; The flowers have come ! Send heralds to the cities — Why, 'tis a thousand pities For men to toil and grind, When trooping down the wind The spring flowers come ! Shut down the marts and mills; Close up the clinking tills ; Bring out the sad to see How glad the world can be With violets blowing free ! Lead out the blind to smell them; Shout to the deaf, and tell them The flowers have come ! Oh, has the world gone dumb? Shout, somebody, shout — "The flowers are out !" Where the Wood Road Leads Where the Wood Road Leads Jfl WHERE THE WOOD ROAD LEADS ALONG the old wood road I went, Where generations of dead leaves Had brought about that wild event Which Nature silently achieves, When left to work her own sweet will. Transmuting each year's green to gold Till richer yet, and richer still She works the magic in the mold ; When lo ! the wonder comes to pass — These myriad varieties Growing on either side en masse. Making the wood road what it is; Sweet refuge where the hunted Soul May as a bird flee for its life, Lest it should know the base control Of Greed, and Power, and sordid Strife; For this same wood road leads away Into the forest solitude Where even the glad light of day Comes reverentially subdued — Ah, it was worship to stand there And hear that thrush hymn to its God ; In that clean, consecrated air Where human foot but rarely trod ! 'Twas adoration to stand still And offer up pure gratitude ; To feel the being slowly fill With waking impulses of good ! Jf.2 Early Leaves in a Late Snow Back by the old wood road I came To where life's battle front is ranged, And took my place — Life was the same. But all my thoughts of Life were changed. EARLY LEAVES IN A LATE SNOW Y OU poor little leaves, do not shiver so; Don't be afraid of the soft white snow ! The bluebirds have come; they are not afraid — See! they face the weather quite undismayed. Ah, there is one waiting under the eaves. And thinking of you, perhaps, little leaves. The mother-boughs know that the snow feels cold To wee baby leaves only two days old. It will all come right ; yes, the old boughs know That you came too early, and they'll rock slow. March ^S MARCH I'VE seen March like this before — Come a-whispering to the door. Looking docile as a lamb; But it's all a cunning sham; For a look of mischief lies In her blue half-open eyes; And when she and April meet. She'll blow April ofF her feet- She will toss her high and dry. Chase her half across the sky ; But with April's sudden tears, March, the tricksy, disappears — Ah, I tell you mischief lies In these blue half-open eyes ! Ji-Jf. Missions MISSIONS MY ear grows keener for the farther cry, Because I note the near; Because I see the urgent need close by. My vision grows so clear That I can see those far-ofF faces plain, Searching for mine to-day, in helpless pain. Because these little stumbling feet I find Seeking a guide in me. Those other feet, my heart aches to unbind And set forever free. That they, with these, may run until they meet And stand together at their Saviour's feet. Because these little reaching hands I mark And clasp within my palm, Those other fingers, feeling through the dark. Keep tugging at my arm Until one seems not far, the other near. But both as one — immeasurably dear. Yield a Little Jj5 YIELD A LITTLE lELD a little to a brother ! Sometimes yielding is a grace; If it smooths life for another, Yield a point with smiling face. Y Yield a little of your Pleasure ! Pleasures pall enjoyed alone — Filling someone's scanty measure Fills and overflows your own. Yield your Way — if it be better. Prove it by the yielding test; It will leave someone your debtor When he finds your way is best. Yield your Comfort to some other Whom but few have thought to please- Find your comfort in the brother Whose sad load you help to ease. Yield a little of your Leisure ! Toil; that other hands may rest; Sharing something of your treasure With the most unwelcome guest. Yield your Rights ? Yes, yield a little — But of Honor, Truth, and Faith, One iota, jot, or tittle Yield not, yield not until death. Jf.6 In His Stead IN HIS STEAD THE day wears on, and yet there is no sign That He will come — no radiance divine Streams in to tell me that my Lord is near; Naught but the waning sun is shining here. I was not certain He would come to-day, But I have put some useless things away; I've looked and listened just a little more. And been a little oftener to the door; Because last night, I was so crushed with care I sent to Him a hurried word of prayer For needed help, and that close comforting Which if He came, I knew that He would bring. I told Him in that moment of despair The days were bringing more than I could bear — And so I thought might be He'd come to-day And either take my cares, or me, away. At noon a child came in with wistful eyes And wanted comforting — he'd lost a prize — He soon went glad and smiling from my door ; But he was just a child whose heart was sore. Then later in the day came one in years And told her griefs to me with many tears; She seemed a little stronger afterward, And took, by faith, fresh hold upon her Lord. In His Stead ^7 But now the day is wearing to an end, And still no sign of Him, my heavenly Friend — I wonder if He meant that I should see His face in theirs — these two which came to me. I wonder if He could have sent, instead, Childhood and Age here to be comforted: And if the bit of comfort which I gave Might really be the comfort which I crave. I wonder if my Lord would have me see. That in His stead, He chose to send to me Life's two extremes, wherein He had ordained Faith should be born, and failing Faith sustained. ^ Come into the Sunshine COME INTO THE SUNSHINE RE you getting your share of sunshine, All the dear Lord meant you to ? Are you being warmed by sunny rays, He is sending down to you? A Or, are you hiding behind the trees Which your own dark fears have made A gloomy wood, where disconsolate You sit all the day in shade? Let the wholesome wind blow back the leaves- Just see how the hilltops shine ! There's a whole sky full of love and light, And some must be yours and mine. Come out and enjoy the blessed sun; The world will have none the less Because you take of its warmth and light. And sit in its blessedness. Your love is chilled by the dismal wood; Your sympathies have not grown; They cannot grow in a human heart Which thinks of itself alone. Yes, I know the light hurts aching eyes, That weep in the dark too long, But the light that hurts will also heal. And the sight will grow clear and strong. Come into the Sunshine J^9 Strong enough to see forgotten tasks Still waiting for you to do; There are sure to be some little things None can do so well as you. Some tender grace you alone possess ; Some gift which is all your own. Is hidden now by the selfish leaves Which your brooding fears have grown. Come into the sunshine, and be glad! Health is in each sunny ray; O Soul, from under your cypress trees Come out into open day ! 50 The Unacknowledged Guest THE UNACKNOWLEDGED GUEST I THOUGHT I knew my Lord too well To feel confusion or affright; Had He not deigned with me to dwell? Was I not precious in His sight? Ah, yes; indeed I knew my Lord; I knew the care He could bestow; I'd proved Him faithful to His word; It was myself I did not know. For when I tried to speak His name, My own voice sounded strange to me ; And I was overwhelmed with shame, That such embarrassment should be. I'd known Him in the secret place. Where He my faintest cry attends. But I had failed the Christian grace, To introduce Him to my friends. I'd kept Him for myself alone; My inmost chamber was His shrine; I had not sought to make Him known; I was content that He was mine. Sometimes, alas, I went the way My vain ambitious thought inclined. And found at close of every day The patient Guest I'd left behind. The Unacknowledged Guest 51 But now, henceforth, and evermore, I only go where He can come ; We pass together through the door, Or we together stay at home. What other friend had brooked such wrong, The shame of being unconfessed? Who but my Lord had borne so long To be an unacknowledged Guest? 62 My Convoy MY CONVOY A STRANGER met me at the gate — He laid his hand upon my arm ; My tired heart ceased to palpitate, My very thoughts grew still and calm. I loved him for his quiet ways; His deep-set eyes looked kind and good; I thought, "I wonder where he stays?" I would detain him if I could; For with him standing by my side, I do not think I should so fear That foe from whom I cannot hide. Who soon or late will find me here. He saw the shadow on my brow. And marked my fear in voice and eye. He questioned, and I told him how. How much afraid I was to die. He murmured, "Ah, she does not know \" Then with a slow sweet smile, he said, "Poor Soul, to think you've suffered so. And I am he you so much dread !" I did not even try to speak. But thrilled with swift and sweet surprise; He laid his fingers on my cheek, He kissed the lids down on my eyes ; A Tragedy 6S Then held me very close and still; And as I drew my latest breath, A sudden glory topped the hill — And I had been afraid of death ! A TRAGEDY OH, for the life of a bird!" I said; "Nothing to do but to sing and fly; Sure to be nested, feathered, and fed, Somewhere under the shimmering sky !" I said my say with a foolish tongue. For I traced the flight of one poor bird. And the last sweet song it ever sung. Was even the song I had just heard. For while it sang, with its happy throat Swelling with love for its brooding mate. It had been marked by its sweet love-note. And my cry of warning came too late. 5Jf. An Easter Thought AN EASTER THOUGHT MAKE haste to those in bonds ! Tell them the young fern fronds Are bursting from the sod Into the light of God. There is no power to hold In dungeon, crypt, or mold ; No strength in prison walls to stay The soul from bursting into day. THE LESSON OF THE OAK 1TOOK a long stroll yesterday. To seek a spot my childhood knew- A spot laid bare to sun and dew, With sweet wild roses by the way. Some gypsies camping in the lane. Peered out at me with curious eyes ; Strange children of the open skies. Such freedom, how do they obtain.^ The place had seemed so much my own, I felt a throb of quick surprise — My winding lane — my bending skies. To these dark aliens were they known .^ The Lesson of the Oak 55 Whose are the by-lanes, and the skies, O most ungracious heart of mine? Can they who joy in shade and shine Be aliens, where suns set and rise? That tiny sapling down the way. Whose slender stem I once had spanned, Had grown in girth, till I could stand Within its shadow, yesterday. Its trunk was seamed throughout its length; Its boughs were rough and tempest-tost; Its supple smoothness had been lost In gaining symmetry and strength. And why should I the more regret These many marks of time I wear? Nay — rather joy, that they declare Life's storms and tempests have been met! Beneath the strong oak's lengthened shade. The wayworn turn aside to rest; Then grateful go upon their quest. Until the final halt is made. Would that my sympathies extend Around my life a shade so sweet. That burdened hearts, and weary feet. Might come to seek me as their friend. 56 The Violet on the Street S THE VIOLET ON THE STREET INCE yesterday I'm burdened with regret. For that, with all my haste, I did not stay And gently lift that fallen violet Someone had dropped, or worse, had thrown away. Face down I found it on the public street — Was it for this it raised its lovely head? Was it for this, that in its lone retreat That fragrance like none other had been shed ? How sweet it would have been to fade and die. Caressed and sung to by the winsome wind ! To yield its native breath, and by-and-by To shed its last pale petal with its kind. Mine would have been slight service, even so To raise it gently from the world's highway; I could have taken time for that, but no, I left it there, face downward where it lay. And now I evermore must feel regret. Because for all my haste I did not stay. And lift again that fallen violet; To think — I might have done so yesterday. c X 5 An Old Home Revisited 57 AN OLD HOME REVISITED In Reverie TO the sunlit vale of my early youth I turned my thoughts in the dewy morn; And in mind I came to the place in truth. And entered the house where I was born. As I stood in the long deserted hall A throng of memories met me there ; They gazed at me from the vacant wall. And called to me from the creaking stair. They knelt with me at the cold hearth side Where the gay flames danced in other days ; They mingled their voices with mine and cried. Holding pale hands to the vanished blaze. In the open chamber which once was mine, The sun still shone on the same old beams ; But oh, heart of mine, how it used to shine. On the splendid castles of our dreams ! Oh, what have I been that I hoped to be? What have I done that I thought to do? Return, O ye youthful days, to me — Those early pledges I would make true ! My glimpse of the world through a window given Was rainbow-hued in that far-ofF time; Then, ray own "Blue Hills" reached up to heaven. And I was eager and longed to climb. 68 An Old Home Revisited From the crimson dawn to the sweet day's close, Still God through Nature is calling me, As all through the ages He calls to those Who have ears to hear, and eyes to see. And when my spirit, as one who sings. Thrills in response, I believe and know I am being led to heavenly things. Which have their beginnings here below. And believing this, shall I cry "alack !" For the unsung melodies of youth.'' Shall I bid the years of my toil turn back. The years so rich in their love and truth .^^ No! the voices heard as a little child. Nor toil, nor the World's rude tones have stilled; Life's conflicting claims must be reconciled; Its highest purpose will be fulfilled. The Fall of the Lilies 69 I THE FALL OF THE LILIES N the flush of early morning Just after the first bird-call, I looked at my golden lilies Just in time to see them fall. The reaper had entered early, And his stroke was swift and sure; Nor spared he a golden lily Just because its heart was pure. Prostrate one and all together Bowed they down before the sun; And swathed with the common grasses They died as the grass had done. The buds that had never blossomed They were leveled with the rest; Cut down ere the best within them Could be yielded or expressed. And what the benignant purpose Which must hide behind it all, What it means to golden lilies. Or to kingdoms when they fall; 'Tis He of the endless ages Who sees them arise, then die. Whose Hand upholds the universe, Knows the Wherefore, and the Why. 60 Satisfy Thyself in Me SATISFY THYSELF IN ME MAKE me, dear Lord, a power for good ! Let Thy instructions be my food; Thy gracious love on me distil Till I rejoice to do Thy will. Give me a voice with which to praise And glorify Thee all my days; Give me a heart to beat with love For Thee all other things above. Give me a strong, intense desire To work for Thee, and never tire; May I increasingly delight To toil with no reward in sight. Give me a sympathy so vast. Its cooling shadow may be cast Where burning hearts, incensed with wrong. May learn forbearance, and grow strong. Give me a choice to ever move Within the circle of Thy love ; Revolving near, and held in place. By the attraction of Thy grace. Give me to live a life of faith. Then in the mystery of death. Take me, dear Lord, and let me be A satisfaction unto Thee. The Captain Knew 61 THE CAPTAIN KNEW TO battle called, I'm in the ranks To wage a war with Sin — "Speak, Lord, and tell me where Ye would That my hand should strike in !" "Bind first the traitor in thy heart; He else will take thy sword. And leave thee at the battle's height A victim of the horde !" "There is no traitor in my heart. For, Lord, my heart is Thine ; And none can take my sword from me, My hand is fast in Thine !" "Then strike !" And with my hand in His, The blow was aimed and sent — None but the Captain and myself Knew what that blow had meant. 62 The Dream of Roses THE DREAM OF ROSES O SISTER, in yon heavenly land! Our lower world is white with snow; The fields lie waste on every hand, And wintry winds arise and blow. And yet last night, I know not why, I dreamed of roses all night long; Whithersoe'er I turned my eye They met me like a fragrant throng. I never knew them grow so high. Or trail the ground with such wild grace ; In distance they outran my eye. And yet so close they brushed my face. I gathered all my hands could hold; I drank their perfume as my right ; I tucked them in my garment's fold, And smuggled them in sheer delight. I crowned myself like any child ; Choosing the reddest for my hair — It seemed the whole creation smiled. And there were roses everywhere. Straight from my dream, I woke to find A tempest raging in its might — Dear sister, what possessed my mind To dream of roses such a night .f* The Dream of Peace 63 THE DREAM OF PEACE O SISTER, long in Paradise! Our lower world is dark with woe ; The tears are drowning out my eyes, Because of souls that suffer so. And yet I've lately dreamed of peace — I know not what that dream may mean Wherein I felt life's tumult cease, And all about me grow serene. I stretched myself like one who wakes To some unwonted sense of ease; Or one upon whose conscience breaks The prelude to new melodies. I seemed to see without surprise. The forms of those I once had known; And confidently set my eyes To seek out those who were my own. I thought of you, whose presence here I've been so long a time denied; My very thought had brought you near. And you stood smiling by my side. Then there is one I've learned to love Since last I looked upon your face; Younger by many years remove. And brought to me by heaven's grace. 6Jf. The Dream of Peace While wondering if she too were there. Behold, she stood but just apart; Pleased that she took me unaware. She read the gladness in my heart. Her smile was that of yesterday- Made sweeter, as she said to me: "You see I followed all the way And found you in Eternity !" "Come!" and she gently led me where A little group of children played — "Just see !" said she, "how sweet and fair. And these are they which might have strayed !" "The Master let me lead them here — These children of my native race; I taught them love in place of fear. And told them of this happy place." And as we neared the little band. They heard her voice and left their play To gather 'round her hand in hand — She smiled, then seemed to glide away. Straight from my dream I woke to hear The anguished moans of Want and Pain ; I heard my name called loud amd clear. And I took up my life again. As hy Fire 65 Dear sister, was that strange sweet dream Prophetic of approaching rest? Or did I catch that heavenly gleam To give my labors added zest? That I might wage a war with sin. And battle for the swift release Of souls who find it hard to win An entrance to that Place of Peace? AS BY FIRE IF out of this that tries me so, If from the anguish and the woe, There should be born my heart within, A deeper loathing for all sin, A more absorbing wish to win A standing place near to the side Of Him who once was crucified. Then would I j oy in being tried ! 66 The Forfeited Wage THE FORFEITED WAGE THE TOILER MASTER, behold me ! the day is done; I've toiled clear up to the set of sun — Over the furrows I've bowed and bent; I've followed fast where the reapers went ; I've fetched and carried; been called, and sent — Now with weary hands and garments rent, At the close of day I stand and wait For the hard-earned wage which comes so late! THE MASTER Mistaken Toiler for Time and Sense, So you have come for your recompense ! Have you naught received throughout the day? Whence came your strength for the toilsome way? You tell how faithfully you have striv'n. Who will tell of service you have giv'n? Show me the altar you stopped to raise Whereon to offer your prayer and praise? Did ever you leave your task undone To bind a sheaf for some fainting one? Have you turned aside from chosen ways To light upon some cold hearth, a blaze? What splendid plan have you put away To seek for one who had gone astray? What earnest purpose did you forego To bear the burden of one bent low? The Forfeited Wage 67 THE TOILER Good Master, none! I have toiled all through; When skies were dark, and when skies were blue; Both late and early — from sun to sun, And left the wage till the day is done; Left the full day's wage untouched with you — THE MASTER Toiler, alas, there is nothing due ! When a Soul is in account with me. If the records for Eternity Show but how steadily one has striv'n To win the wage, and has nothing giv'n. That Toiler forfeits his wage from heav'n ! THE TOILER gracious Master! the sun has set; But there is an hour of twilight yet; Let me start a new account, I pray. And toil till dark without thought of pay — I'll hasten back to that stony place Where one was toiling with pallid face; 1 will bind his sheaf, and lift his load. And sing to cheer him upon the road ; Or, if others need me, I will stay Till I hear your Voice call me away. 68 The Soul's Fear-Cry THE SOUL'S FEAR-CRY GREAT heart of God, admit me — I am cold ! The world's rude ways unfit me for Thy fold— My heart is bleating like an unweaned lamb Left to itself — forgotten of its dam. I hear the cry of wolves upon my track! They scent my weakness; naught will turn them back; Benumbed with fear; no shelt'ring fold in sight; No light — no voice — only the shudd'ring night. I have not strength enough to fight or flee — It's just the wilderness; the wolves; and me — Baying they come — Sorrow, and Pain, — and Sin? Open, great heart of God, and take me in ! After the Stress 69 AFTER THE STRESS 1KNEW a spot something like this Was waiting somewhere in God's green, For I had caught the breath of flowers Whose colors I had never seen. I always thought that I should win Sometime^ a nearer, clearer view. And always hoped it would be in Close company, dear friend, with you. I wonder by what way you came? I must have missed the road you took; But in my heart I wore your name. Now, in each other's face we look. I feared I should arrive too soon. Urged on by that impelling wind; I did not hear the stroke of noon. And thought you would be hours behind. Yet here you meet me as of old; Your hand as warm, as strong, as true — Was there a moment's dark, and cold.^ It has not left its mark on you ! Let's yield to our new blessedness ! Your road was steep, and mine was rough — Done with the buffet, and the stress ; At last the Voice has said "Enough !" 110 After the Stress Here grow the flowers, whose breath I drank With eager wonder yesterday — We stand together on the bank Which I had thought so far away. I do not know just where we are; I only know we both have striven; It may be some unnamed star — Or, do you think it may be — Heaven? I LIBRARY OF CONGRESS