. %ty Crimes of &mstertiam THE CHIMES OF AMSTERDAM &nt> <©t{jcr Poems THE CHIMES OF AMSTERDAM &nt> ©flier $oentg EY / MRS. GEORGE A. PAULL (MINNIE E. KENNEY) vm NEW YORK ANSON D. F. RANDOLPH AND CO. 1890 ? * x *v Copyright, i8go, By A. D. F. Randolph and Co. University Press : John Wilson and Son, Cambridge. To A. S. W. " This is for you, because I love you so /" What matter if a poor and worth/ess thing The childish gift may be, — a broken toy, Or wilted flowers that die in offering ; Yet for the uttered reason of the gift, And for the love clear shining in the eyes, You heed not that it lacketh every charm. For love's sweet sake the worthless thing you prize. And so these gathered thoughts I bring, be- loved, Not worth the offe?'ing, did I not know Betiveen the lines your heart can read the words, " This is for you, because I love you so /" CONTENTS. PAGE The Chimes of Amsterdam .... 7 Nearer to Thee 11 At Even by the Sea 16 Contentment 19 Unfinished Music 22 Compensations 25 My Plan 27 Hast made us Kings 31 He Careth 34 The Manna 37 The Fevered Hand 41 Thou Knowest 44 The Blacksmith's Work 47 The Troubling of the Pool .... 51 My Sermon 53 The Sweet Old Story 57 To my Baby 60 Baby Asleep . 63 An Evening Hymn 67 THE CHIMES OF AMSTERDAM, Far up above the city, In the gray old belfry tower, The chimes ring out their music Each day at the twilight hour. Above the din and the tumult And the rush of the busy street You can hear their solemn voices In an anthem clear and sweet. When the busy day is dying And the sunset gates, flung wide, Mark a path of crimson glory Upon the restless tide ; As the white-winged ships drop anchor And furl their snowy sails, While the purple twilight gathers And the glowing crimson pales, — 8 tty Ctjums of &mmtum. Then from the old gray belfry The chimes peal out again, And a hush succeeds the tumult As they ring their sweet refrain. No sound of discordant clangor Mars the perfect harmony, But each attuned by a master hand Has its part in the melody. I climbed the winding stairway That led to the belfry tower, The sinking sun in the westward Heralded twilight's hour. For I thought that surely the music Would be clearer and sweeter far Than when, through the din of the city, It seemed to float from afar. But, lo ! as I neared the belfry No sound of music was there, Only a brazen clangor Disturbed the quiet air. &\)t €\)imt$ of #m0ter&am, 9 The ringer stood at the keyboard, Far down beneath the chimes, And patiently struck the noisy keys As he had, uncounted times. He had never heard the music, Though every day it swept Out over the sea and the city, And in lingering echoes crept. He knew not how many sorrows Were cheered by that evening strain, And how men paused to listen When they heard that sweet refrain. He only knew his duty And he did it with patient care, But he could not hear the music That flooded the quiet air; Only the jar and the clamor Fell harshly on his ear, And he missed the mellow chiming That every one else could hear. \ 10 t\)t Ct)hm$ of 3m£tetfram* So we, from our quiet watch-tower, May be sending a sweet refrain And gladdening the lives of the lowly, Though we hear not a single strain. Our work may seem but a discord Though we do the best we can, But others will hear the music If we carry out God's plan. Far above a world of sorrow And o'er the eternal sea, It will blend with angelic anthems In sweetest harmony. It will ring in lingering echoes Through the corridors of the sky, And the strains of earth's minor music Will swell the strains on high. " iiearer to tfyte." n " NEARER TO THEE." " NEARER to Thee, my God, nearer to Thee ! " Thus shrilly sweet the childish treble rang, As pausing in her play a little maid, In fitful snatches, all unheeding sang. The tender prayer fell from her careless lips As thoughtlessly as song of bird in June; The childish voice rang out, now shrill, now sweet, Now softly crooning the familiar tune. " Nearer to Thee ! " The maiden older grown Half shyly pauses at the untried road 12 " fearer to £ijee*" Which stretches out before her as she stands Upon the threshold of her woman hood. " Nearer to Thee," she sings, but skies are fair And love smiles on her pathway; so the prayer Is but the sweet refrain of an old hymn Without a thought of need or meaning there. " Nearer, my God, to Thee ! " Heavy the cross; The aching shoulders bend beneath the load, And as the hidden thorns press hard and sharp The tear-dimmed eyes can scarcely see the road. " Nearer to Thee," the quivering voice is weak " fearer to £ljee*" That earnestly uplifts the songful prayer, 11 E'en though it be a cross that raiseth me," Content if so the heavy cross to bear. " Nearer to Thee ! " The shadows darkly gather, The way is lonely and the path is steep ; Chill are the night-winds sweeping through the valley, While still the gloomy shadows grow more deep. " Nearer to Thee ! " Oh, let each toil- some footstep Be one step nearer Thee, and through the gloom, Father, hold out Thy hand and lead Thy child Safely through darkness up to Thee and home. H " fearer to £tjee*" " Nearer to Thee ! " Above the coffin lid, Where drifts of blossoms lie like sum- mer snow About the quiet form that softly sleeps, No more of pain or sorrow here to know, With broken voices, faltering here and there, The hymn arises like a cradle-song That lulls to sleep the tranquil sculpt- ured form Whose spirit mingles with the heavenly throng. " Nearer, my God, to Thee, nearer to Thee," Through all life's journey every day to be Still nearer, though we walk upon the hills " fearer to tfytt" 15 In the glad sunlight, or, still following Thee, Pass through deep valleys that the dark- ness shrouds. Nearer, still nearer, be our prayer and song, Till joyfully our souls shall wing their way, Freed from their prison-house, to dwell with Thee And near to Thee rejoice in endless day. 1 6 at Cfeett by tije £>ea< AT EVEN BY THE SEA. Beside the quiet wave-kissed shore In distant Galilee, When evening's purple shadows stole Across the murmuring sea, Upon each sick and suffering one In that sweet tranquil hour The pitying Saviour's tender hand Was placed with healing power. Close to the great Physician's side The lame and suffering pressed, Eager to feel that wondrous touch Lest they should be unblessed. But on each one the Saviour's hands With healing touch were laid, And sin and suffering alike The gentle touch obeyed. #t €bm by t\)t g>ea« No more the loving Saviour treads In blessed Galilee, Healing each sorrow brought to him, At even by the sea. We cannot follow in those steps And bring at close of day Each weary pain and heart-ache sore At his dear feet to lay. Yet, pitying Christ, I bring to thee My suffering, sin-sick soul, For one touch of thy healing hand, That I may be made whole. Look on me in thy tenderness, And mercy show to me, As when of old thou healedst the sick Beside the quiet sea. O tender Christ, deny me not, Only one touch I crave Of that dear nail-pierced hand which hath 3c (Btoen by tlje £>ea< Almighty power to save. Thy pitying love is still as great As when in Galilee Thou healedst all who came to thee, At even by the sea. Contentment* 19 CONTENTMENT. I ASK not that my path should always be By waters still, Nor do I pray that Thou shouldst shelter me From every ill. I am content, dear Father, if Thy love Dost choose my way, If I may walk so closely at Thy side I cannot stray. I do not pray from sorrow's chastening touch I may be free, Nor of Thy pitying tenderness would crave To crossless be. 20 CcmtetttmoTt, I know Thy wisdom seeth greater gain In every loss, And that it is Thy love and thought for me That sends my cross. When Thou wouldst have me serve thee, dearest Lord, I do not ask That I may serve as best it pleaseth me, And choose my task. Enough it is Thou deignest to accept Service from me ; Whatever task is set by Thy dear hand Shall joyous be. If Thou wouldst have me wait with folded hands Shall I refuse, Because my love for Thee some worthier task Would gladly choose? Contentment* 21 Nay, since Thy will is wholly worked in me, And I am Thine, Can I not wholly trust myself to Thee, And not repine? 22 tmnfimsfyeu $$u$it. UNFINISHED MUSIC. I SAT alone at the organ At the close of a troubled day, When the sunset's crimson embers On the western altar lay. I was weary with vain endeavor, My heart was ill at ease, And I sought to soothe my sadness With the voice of the sweet-toned keys. My hands were weak and trembling, My fingers all unskilled To render the grand old anthem With which my soul was filled. Through the long day's cares and wor- ries, I had dreamed of that glorious strain, And I longed to hear the organ Repeat it to me again. It fell from my untaught fingers Discordant and incomplete, I knew not how to express it, Or to make the discord sweet ; So I toiled with patient labor Till the last bright gleams were gone, And the evening's purple shadows Were gathering one by one. Then a master stood beside me And touched the noisy keys, And lo ! the discord vanished And melted in perfect peace. I heard the great organ pealing The tune that I could not play, The strains of the glorious anthem That had filled my soul all day. Down through the dim cathedral The tide of music swept, And through the shadowy arches The lingering echoes crept. 24 tfllnfim£l)e& spustc* And I stood in the purple twilight And heard my tune again, Not my feeble, untaught rendering, But the master's perfect strain. So I think perchance the Master, At the close of Life's weary day, Will take from our trembling fingers The tune that we cannot play. He will hear through the jarring discord The strain, although half expressed ; He will blend it in perfect music And add to it all the rest. Compensations 25 COMPENSATIONS. So weak, dear Lord, and yet, because I know The feeblest ones Thy loving bosom share, Because I learn to rest upon Thy arm, And trust more fully to Thy loving care, I am content. So tempted, Lord ! And yet, since thus I learn My only safety is to cling to Thee, And since my need of Thee brings Thee more near, I would not pray that I might always be Untempted. So sinful, Lord ! with some unhallowed thought Or wrong desire my every deed is stained ; 26 Contpnttfattonsu I magnify the more the wondrous love Which washed away my sin and pardon gained Even for me. So rough the path my faltering feet must tread, I fain would turn aside and choose my way Did I not know that still more tenderly Thou leadest me, and so I cannot stray Beyond Thy care. So dark the night, but through the heavy gloom Thy radiant presence ever shines more bright, And Thy full glory is revealed to me Till I forget the darkness of the night And see but Thee. SPE plan* 27 MY PLAN. In the tender hush of evening I sat in the twilight gray Planning the loyal service I would render the coming day. I would build a noble temple, So perfect in symmetry And matchless in grand proportions, It should last through eternity. The massive blocks and columns Should be great deeds nobly wrought, Each line of the graceful carving With loving devotion fraught. The hours should be golden censers, Their incense prayer and praise, While the moments a glorious anthem Continually should raise. 28 $pg plan* Throughout the coming ages This temple, I had planned, Of my love to my royal Master A monument should stand; And the labor would be joyous, Since the thought of the work com- plete, Meet for my King's acceptance, Would be inspiration sweet. But the morrow came to me laden With many a task beside The deeds I had planned, and my duties And cares seemed multiplied. Only time for a thought of the Master To strengthen me for these, No leisure for grand achievement, No rest from anxieties. When the evening shadows lengthened, Where my temple should arise There were only shattered ruins, And I stood with tear-dimmed eyes. £0V plan* 29 Not one block laid in the building I had planned with such loving care, Only these scattered fragments Were strewn before me there, Each lying as I had dropped it When the moments took their flight, Some dull and dimmed by shadows, While others were fair and bright ; Cares and joys and duties, Just what the day had brought; I had followed the Master's bidding And patiently had wrought But lo ! as I gazed at the fragments, My work which I had deemed So worthless to offer the Master, Since scattered chips it seemed, I saw that each tiny fragment Was part of one great plan, Each needed to form the pattern That through the day's work ran. 3o gpg plan, Each bit of light or shadow Was a part of that pattern rare That formed the rich mosaic I unconsciously fashioned there; And while I had mourned so sadly Over my wasted day, Since I wrought as I was guided, My work was not thrown away. I need not sigh that useless Had been my fair design, Since I had wrought this pattern More fair than aught of mine. So I plan not for the morrow, — Just obey, and leave the rest To the skill of the great Designer Who knoweth what is best. H?a$t spalie u$ Jiitngs* 31 HAST MADE US KINGS. (Rev. i: 6) I AM a king. No longer as a slave, With heavy chains to bind me to the ground And cruel lash to goad me to my tasks, Go I with laggard steps to duty's round. But as a king, I serve that I may rule, For kings have duties that must needs be done, And many a conflict valiantly to wage Before their laurels and their rest be won. I am a king. Then must I learn to rule And under firm control my spirit bring, 32 ^as?t spate u£ &mg$* For constant self-restraint and passions chained More than all else doth truly mark a king. I am a king. Then must I learn to bear All things with patience, whether good or ill; Though trouble clouds my sky and dan- gers lurk, My faith must rise above them, tran- quil still. I am a king. Then must I learn to give Right royally. Largesse ! Largesse ! they cry, Who wait upon a sovereign. Would I be A king in truth, no call must I deny. I must not deal my gifts with niggard care, But as a king to give with lavish hand l^asft ^a&e us Jungs* 33 To all who ask, my love, my gold, my prayers, Responding regally to each demand. I am a king. Oh, wondrous love of Christ That washed me in His blood and crowned me king ! Unworthy as I am of such estate, Awake, sad heart, and all exultant sing. I am a king, but nothing I can give To Thee in grateful offering is meet For Thy acceptance. Saviour, King of kings, I lay myself before Thy pierced feet. 34 tyt Carets HE CARETH. The day had been long and toilsome, Each hour brought its burden of care, And the tasks that had rested upon me Were more than my strength could bear. I was weary and well-nigh exhausted With the weight of the heavy load I had tried to carry, unaided, Along the rugged road. Where I had failed in endeavor, All had been swift to blame, And none had a word of pity For the pain that racked my frame. And when my work was accomplished I had never a word of praise To cheer me in my efforts Or my drooping spirits raise. ^e Carets 35 With hands that were hot and fevered I wearily toiled all day, Longing in vain for a cheering word To help me on my way. My burdens would have been lightened By a word of sympathy, A clasp of the hand, an assurance That some one cared for me. I took up my well-worn Bible And sought for a message of peace That should soothe my troubled spirit And bid my longing cease. The last bright gleams illumed the page As the lingering daylight fled, " Casting all your care upon Him, For He careth for you," I read. " He careth ! " Oh, tender message, Full of comfort and cheer ! I had so soon forgotten A loving Friend was near 36 tyz Caretl), Who could help me bear the burdens No other friend could bear, Who could care for all my troubles As no other friend could care. Oh, tender words of blessing ! My sorrows all grew light ; The thought of that constant Presence Made darkest paths seem bright The burdens I could not carry I would bring to Him to bear, And in lonely hours of sorrow I would trust His constant care. He careth ! Oh, wonderful promise ! Sweet story of boundless love, That can stoop to our petty sorrows From the glorious throne above. No grief or trouble too trifling At His pierced feet to lay; His love will lighten each burden And send us rejoicing away. ttyt $)amta* 37 THE MANNA. The manna fell not on the mountain- tops Caressed by cloudlets, by the sunlight kissed, So near to heaven that the stern, gray peaks Melted away in tender amethyst. Nay, not upon these silent mist-crowned heights, So far above the hungering multitude That they could only view with longing eyes The promised bread of life, the angels' food ; 38 tfyt spanna* Nor chaliced in the rocky cleft was stored The daily manna, where the weary feet Must scale the heights till flesh and spirit failed And sank exhausted in the noonday heat. Not so came down from heaven the daily food, But scattered 'midst the desert's shin- ing sands, Where each could freely gather for his need, And e'en a child could fill his little hands. With each day's journey came the daily bread, Strengthening and nourishing with angels' food £fje spanna, 39 The weary people ever marching on Into the desert's dreary solitude. E'en so I think the manna falls to-day, Scattered among the duties small that lie Like desert sands before our feet each day For hourly needs, a bounteous supply, Not on-the peaceful heights sublime and fair That tower above the plain of daily need, Nor hidden, like wild honey, in the clefts Gained only by some brave and toil- some deed. O hungering soul, stretch forth thine empty hand, For each day's trials God gives daily grace. 40 ttyz spanna, 'T is always close at hand ; then trust His love, And let distrust to sweet content give place. t\)t jfebrnti l^anD* 41 THE FEVERED HAND. I SIGHED, as I rose in the morning, At thought of the busy day Overflowing with cares and duties That could not brook delay; Each hour and minute was crowded With tasks that must be done, And I could not look for a respite At the setting of the sun. Not till the restless children Were quietly hushed in bed, And the task of mending all finished, Could I rest my hands and head. Ah, true is the homely adage, " Woman's work ne'er is done, While man's appointed labor Is only from sun to sun." 42 £t)e jfefoent) ^anfc* So much to be done for the children Before they trooped away, With many a clinging good-by kiss To lighten my heart all day ! Oh, for a quiet moment, A season of thought and prayer, Before I began the busy day So full of trial and care ! But I could not pause for an instant, Though my head throbbed with its pain And my hands were hot and fevered ; I must take up my tasks again. As I hastily passed the table Where the well-worn Bible lay, My eyes fell on the open page And I carried the words away. They came to my anxious spirit Like a tender message of peace, And bid all the fruitless worry And anxious haste to cease. Z\\t jfetieret) c^ano* 43 They told how the loving Master Had touched a fevered hand, And at once the course of the fever Was checked at His command. Then a swift-winged prayer went upward That the Great Physician's touch Would rest on my anxious spirit That was troubled overmuch. And I felt a gracious Presence Lightening my load of care ; His touch had stilled the fever In answer to my prayer. 44 £t)ou ^ttotoetft* THOU KNOWEST. " Thou knowest that I love thee." Yea, dear Lord, Though I have wandered far and gone astray, Though I have left unheeded Thy com- mands, And followed on where self-will led the way. So prone to wander and so slow to turn, My love is far too poor and cold a thing That I should dare to bring it as a gift, An offering meet to lay before a king. So many thrones there are within my heart, So many idols have I there enshrined, £tjou imotoest, 45 That where supreme and mighty Thou shouldst reign Only divided worship Thou dost find. And yet Thou knowest all things, yea, dear Lord, Thou knowest that I love Thee, poor and cold Although that love may be, and scant return For all Thy love and tenderness untold. Yea, Lord, Thou knowest how I fain would love, And how I mourn my cold unloving heart, That when I fain would love and serve Thee most Withholds the best and gives Thee but a part. 46 tfyou iimofcoest* Wilt Thou not touch it with Thy love divine, Till it shall kindle to a warmer glow, And burn within me like an altar fire, No other love but Thine alone to know ? Yea, Lord, Thou knowest that I love Thee, though Like Peter I have often Thee denied ; Come Thou into my heart, and there enthroned, My Lord and King, forevermore abide. ttje Macfesmtttfs OTorfe* 47 THE BLACKSMITH'S WORK. Down in the heart of the city The blacksmith's fires burn bright, And the strokes of the noisy hammer Resound from morn till night. Through all the din and the tumult The heavy blows come down, The rhythmic echo throbbing Like the pulse of the busy town. The old smith stands at his anvil From the earliest break of day Till the sunset's rosy glory Has faded to twilight gray. As he swings the mighty hammer He fashions with patient toil The links of a giant cable That has grown to a goodly coil. 48 t\)t Mariamtittrs Work* Slowly and patiently works he, The task must be done with care, For some day that iron cable The strain of a ship must bear. Ten more links would be fashioned When his daily task is through, If his work were not so perfect And each link so strong and true. At last his work is ended, And the blacksmith lies at rest, The hands that were once so busy Folded upon his breast, While the cable goes from the smithy In every link complete, To hold some ship at anchor, And the strength of a storm to meet. On the deck of a goodly vessel It lies in a shapeless mass, In rusty coils where careless feet May spurn it as they pass. t\)t MackStttttir* Mlotk. 49 But when the tempest gathers, And dark clouds threatening lower, While waves dash on the rock-bound coast With an angry sullen roar, Like a mighty arm of iron, Defying the fiercest blast, The cable strains till taut and straight It tests its strength at last. The smith is fighting the tempest With his work so stanch and true, Each link in the trusty cable Fashioned as best he knew. And now in the hour of danger, The cable stands the test, The smith still does good service, Though he is laid to rest. Because the work in the smithy With faithful care was wrought, The ship outlived the tempest, With her precious burden fraught. 4 50 ttje HBlacksmtttr* OTorfc, Oh, patient, faithful worker, This lesson teach to me, To do each daily service With true fidelity, That each day's homely duties However small they be, May be links in a trusty cable To last through eternity. &)t troubling of ttje pooh THE TROUBLING OF THE POOL. Not when Bethesda's pool a tranquil mirror lay Kissed into radiance by an Orient sun, But when the angel stirred its crystal depths, The wondrous power of healing was begun. Calm and unruffled by a troublous thought, Like fair Bethesda's pool, a soul may lie Bathed in the placid sunlight of content, While seasons of rich grace are passing by. 52 G$z troubling of t\)t pooL But when the Spirit stirs the sluggish depths, Until its calm gives way to wild unrest, Then comes sweet healing, and the sin- sick heart, Dropping its burden there, finds peace and rest. fljty Sermon* 53 MY SERMON. The evening bells were pealing Their call to praise and prayer, The sweet chimes softly stealing Through the tranquil twilight air, As I sat by my baby's cradle With many a wistful thought Of the hour in the quiet chapel With praise and worship fraught. I must miss the inspiration Of the earnest prayerful throng, I could not hear the sermon, Nor join the evening song. I must sit by the swaying cradle, Watching the quiet sleep Of my little one, my treasure, A loving guard to keep. 54 Opt Sermon* The sound of the bell's sweet summons Had died on the quiet air, And I bent o'er my darling's slumbers, Lifting a voiceless prayer That the message I could not follow Might still be sent to me, And the blessing I sorely needed Should not be lost to me. Just then the little sleeper Cried out in childish fright; Some troubled dream had roused him, And made him fear the night, And I clasped the trembling baby As closely to my heart, As if some real danger Had caused his cry and start. I stilled his frightened wailing With loving tenderness, And lulled him into slumber With many a fond caress. spp Sermon* 55 No grief could hurt my darling Although a fancied fear, My loving arms around him Would show him I was near. Then words of tender comfort I had often read before Came back like a spoken message In that quiet twilight hour ; My love for my precious baby Gave them a meaning new, — " As one whom his mother comforteth, So will I comfort you." Then I measured with clearer vision The infinite tender love That will stoop to our little sorrows From the heights so far above. What though they are fancied burdens, He hears our feeblest cry, And the loving arms about us Show us that he is nigh. 56 $$y Sermon* My finite mother-passion Should be the plummet true By which I could better measure Love greater than I knew. I had missed the song and sermon That quiet eventide, But I learned a precious lesson As I sat at my baby's side. t\)t g>toeet olD £>tor^ 57 THE SWEET OLD STORY. Read me some message of comfort While the sunset's tender light Is paling away in the westward And heralding coming night. I am aweary, aweary, And I long for a word of peace That shall bid all vexing worries And fretting cares to cease. Read to me of the Master, Of the gracious truths He taught, Of His mighty works of healing, With love and mercy fraught, Of His never wearied patience, His compassion and His care, That never turned, unheeding, From the poorest suppliant's prayer. 58 tfje gfoeet olu g>ton?* Yes, read to me of the Master, For the story grows more dear As the clouds grow dark above me And life seems bleak and drear. When my heart is sore and wounded It comes like a healing balm, And over its griefs and tempests It breathes a peaceful calm. Now read me the dear old story Of the love that is mighty to save, And the never failing forgiveness, That I may grow strong and brave ; For how I have sinned and fallen No one but Jesus knows, And I long to taste the sweetness That from His pardon flows. Then I know that His love and mercy Are still as strong and near, And that my feeblest whisper Will reach His listening ear. t\)t g>toeet old £>tor^ 59 And when I am sorely tempted Or sorrow doth befall, I know that the loving Saviour Knoweth and pitieth all. 60 to my Baby* TO MY BABY. What are you doing, you mischievous elf, Sitting there with a thoughtful face, Before a book as large as yourself, Turning the pages with baby grace? Do you dream of the knowledge before you spread, Of the learning garnered before your eyes? What thoughts are filling your little head That you look so sober and yet so wise? With a mother's love your eyes I meet, Marvelling much how it can be £o my HBabp. 61 That anything half so rare and sweet Should have come to earth to live with me. I fain would shelter that precious head From every cloud of sorrow or care, And make for those tiny rosy feet, A flower-strewn pathway, smooth and fair. Yet another book before you lies, The leaves of which I cannot turn, Though I fain would scan with eager eyes The lessons my darling has to learn. If I only could choose your tasks, dear heart, I would make each page so plain and fair, 62 to mp HBabp* Naught but sunshine and smiles should have a part In the lessons my love should set you there. And yet I can trust the tenderer love That will plan each step of your future way, Which sees from the infinite heights above That joy is not the best gift alway. I trust His love though I cannot turn One leaf and see what is written there ; I know that no task is too hard to learn That is set by our Master's loving care. 115abp 0sleep* 6$ BABY ASLEEP. Step lightly, for he sleeps ! The tiny hands, Restless and fluttering like a leaf wind tossed But scarce a moment since, might chi- selled be By sculptor's tool, so meekly are they crossed. Rose-tinted palms and dimpled fingers white, Lightly as snowflakes fall, they passive lie, Meet only for soft kisses. Little hands, What burdens will life bring you, by and by? 64 Babp &#\tt$. Speak softly, for he sleeps ! Brown silken lashes fringe The snowy curtains, drooping low, which hide From baby's wondering eyes the strange new world With all its pains and pleasures yet untried. Dear trustful eyes, within whose violet depths Where innocence is mirrored, never lies A shadowed doubt of aught that life can bring, For life to baby is one glad surprise. Hush, for he sleeps ! The dimpled, restless feet, So tireless in their motion to and fro, Are quiet now. Oh, tender baby feet, HBabp £teleep* 65 With all life's toilsome journey yet to You are so softly shielded from all harm, Yet not love's tenderest care can smooth the way That lies before you in the great un- known, Where with the sunlight lie the shadows gray. Hush, let him sleep ! The rounded rose-flushed cheek, The parted lips curved in a happy smile, Are all the fairer for the peaceful rest Which cannot be love-sheltered so erst while. Sleep on, my baby, while I guard thy rest, Thinking meantime upon the love that keeps 5 66 U5ab}? &#lttp. Over thy life more tender watch and ward Than even mother's love. Hush, baby sleeps ! Sin Cbcmng !^pn» 67 AN EVENING HYMN. Gently fade the sunset glories Of the dying day, Like o'ershadowing wings of angels Creeps the twilight gray. Father, cradled on Thy breast Let me find in Thee my rest. Darker, closer, draw night's shadows ; Stars their vigils keep, Watching while the world lies silent, Hushed in quiet sleep. Father, sheltered by Thy arm Guard me safe from every harm. When the radiant morning kindles Flame of rosy light, 68 #n (Abetting dentin Jubilant day flings out her banners, Banishing the night, May Thy love encircling still, Shelter me from every ill. THE END. ^