::^M^ r '^3€<. w "^-'•- , It,--:.-, ^/7^t^^ <^-2^'7^^<^^^^-iig" shall greet them, The other side. Hero and saint ! enrolled upon the pages Of history, Telling of deeds sublime to future ages, Thy name shall be. And, bettor still, the Lamb's resplendent volume Thy name shall bear. Heading, porohanoo, a long and brilliant column Of lioroos there. Farewell for tiuio ! no more we hero shall greet thee; But far on high. Amid the augols, we shall surely moot thee, No more to die. And from our lips the chalice, now so bitter, Our God will take. And bid lis drink from heaven's fountain sweeter When we awake. REV. SYLVAXUS COBB, D.D.* GO to thy rest, O man of God ! on high. With those who bore the btirdou and the heat Of bygone days, when Truth, that could not die, Biu-nod on your lips and guided all your feet. • Sung at the fuueral iu School-street Chiirch, Boston, Mass. MEMO/ilAL POEMS. 151 Wo mourn tluDc absoiic(3 (Vorri i'ainiliui' ways ; But high and [)ur() i\ni [)at}is whicli tliou liast trod: W(; liojjo to follow till we mcict and jiraisc With thoc and thine before the throne of God. Long will thy name be cherished 'mid the rariks Of those who teach our God's undying love ; While evermore we bow with reverent thanks, And ask for grace to follow thee above. Go to thy j)lace amid the radiant host : We mourn thy loss from earth with tears to-day ; Yet they who knew thee best and loved thee most Say not, " Ueturn," but " Speed thee on thy way ! " Rise to thy place beside the valiant few Who boundless. grace proclaimed in days gone by; Tlie crown is thine ; the victor's palm thy due ; And thine tlie welcome where no mojc we die. EUGENE FULLER.* I KNEW him not ; mine eye had never gazed Upon his thoughtful l)row : His name, so musical, I scarce had heard To recognize till now. * Su^^cgtcd by the recent deatli by drowning of Eugene Fuller, Esq., brother of Margaret, Countess d'Ossoli, and of Rev. Arthur B. Fuller, and R. F. Fuller, Esq., of Boston. 152 MEMORIAL POEMS. But neither years nor space will now erase From out my heart his name ; For with his sister's it will e'er be linked, And share her deathless fame. Since both have found, when homeward tending, rest Beneath the foamy wave. Whereon no marble monument may stand To mark their watery grave. O Sea ! wert thou not satisfied to take The sister, good and wise, And bear her with her loved ones to their home Above the starry skies ? Why shouldst thou rend again those mourning hearts, O dark and treacherous Sea ? Why bid those hearts forevermore be sad, Ocean, at sight of thee ? Hush ! gentle voices to my soul are calling, And, whispering, they tell, *' The ocean is the Lord's ; it doth his bidding : Repine not ; all is well." Beyond the confines of terrestrial regions, There is a better shore : God's love unfathomed, as the only sea, Flows round it evermore. There parted friends shall meet, and Death's dark wing — Like sea-bird's screaming shrill — Shall never liap above the drowning forms Of friends beloved still. MEMORIAL POEMS. 153 God speed the dawning of that glorious day, When, sin-freed, we shall be Where tears are wiped from every grief-dimmed eye, And where is no more sea ! RICHARD F. FULLER, ESQ. SHADES of Mount Auburn ! you are dearer still, More reverently I tread your flowery ways, Since he is resting there, — in wliom no guile Was found, who needeth not my praise. Our God hath taken him ; his crown is won : And yet 'twas hard to say, " Thy will be done ! " Nobly he toiled to aid his fellow-man ; His brave heart to the right was ever true ; Faithful to Christ throughout his life's brief span, He did a life's work, though his years were few. He bore the Temperance banner far and high ; His name among Truth's heroes will not die. Swift was the stroke to those who mourn his loss, And dark indeed the cloud around his home : In God's strength only can they bear this cross. Till Death, the angel, shall to them say " Come I " Then in the land where all God's children meet, His smile again their longing eyes shall greet. 154 MEMORIAL POEMS. Oh, what a rapturous greeting on that shore Awaited him whose treasured ones were there ! So many who had crossed the sea before, And in whose presence he a heaven could share. We can but mourn our loss : to him 'twas gain To reach that harbor from the voyage of pain. God make us faithful, e'en as he was true ; And, in the Christ-Hke pathway that he trod. Help us to walk, till to our raptured view Shall rise the glory of his new abode, — Till by the banks of Life's fair stream we stand, And greet each other in the better land. 1869. THE TREE. [When the late Dr. Wilham A. Alcott, well known as an author and a lecturer on hygiene, was dying at his home in Auburndale, Mass., he sent as farewell message to his only son, then in Williams College, these words, " Live for others! " — a motto he had himself nobly acted upon through life. His remains were interred in the village cemetery at West Newton, Mass.; and a large pine overshadowed his quiet resting-place, which, greatly to the regret of his friends, has been removed.] IT stood, — a stately evergreen, Above an honored grave. As if an angel-guard serene, From sacrilege to save. The wild birds on its branches sang Each dewy, summer morn ; And cheerfully their wood-notes rang To welcome back the dawn. MEMORIAL POEMS. 155 Now hath a ruthless hand laid low The tree of which we tell, Whose friendly shade no more we know O'er dust we loved so well. Ah, well ! — we miss the evergreen When snow inwraps that clay ; But 'neath a fairer tree, I ween, The spirit sits to-day, — The spirit of our sainted friend. Whose work was nobly done ; Whose dying words, — a fitting end I — " For others live, my son ! " Still echo in our hearts, to make Our lives more true and high ; And we shall meet him when we wake Where none shall sin or die. BURIED IN THE DEEP. "IVTOT by his grave I stand, — loved long ago, — J_ 1 My playmate sleeping '' Death's long, dream- less sleep." He on the tossing billow met Life's foe ; And he, alas ! was buried in the deep. No marble cenotaph, his tomb to mark. Can ever rise above those waves afar ; But while remains unquenched in me Life's spark, Still bright for me shall beam his natal star. 156 MEMORIAL POEMS. His birthday ! it is here, and bids me turn To vanished hours of childhood's careless joy, When Love's sweet lessons oft my heart could learn From that dear brother, that kind sailor-boy ! Now, far from that loved early home I dwell ; No more those paths our childhood knew we tread ; Nor can we meet till I have said " Farewell To earthly scenes," and o'er Death's river sped. Yet Memory, ever true, with magic wand Oft gilds each hour of our glad life anew ; And Faith reveals a better land beyond. Than e'en our island-home 'mid waters blue. I hope to meet him on the shining shore. Where none of friends bereft shall lonely weep. Where rolls no watery waste forevermore. Where no loved forms are buried in the deep. THE MOTHER OF JOHN G. WHITTIER. SHE has passed away like the flowers of eartli ; She has faded like a star. When the autumn winds bow the forest-leaves, When the day-god comes from far. But her memory lives with loved ones left. Like the fragrance of a flower ; And oft in the sky of each soul shall beam, Like the star of the morning hour. MEMORIAL POEMS. 157 But not lost ! oh, no ! she but died to live ; She " passed on " to die no more ; And e'er to her loved ones must she prove As a tie to a fairer shore. Oh ! then will the heart of her poet-son With his mother so loved commune ; And his sister say, with a smile of faith, " Let the will of the Lord be done." O'er her spirit the soft-winged dove of peace In the death-hour brooded still ; And the waves of God's love, as they bathed her soul, With his joy seemed that soul to fill. Why mourn we for those who in peace depart. With their heaven on earth begun ? For the trusting soul and the loving heart Wait the Master's words, " Well done ! " STEPHEN GRELLET. [Suc^gested by the perusal of Sebohm's interesting Memoir of this distin- guished minister of the Society of Friends, lately published by Hemy Longstreth, Philadelphia.] MINE eyes ne'er looked upon his saintly brow, White with Life's wintry sign ; Nor have mine ears his gospel music heard, Sweet with the truth divine. 158 MEMORIAL POEMS. But yet I love him, as a blood-washed soul To holy service called ; And faithful ever to the inward voice, By none on earth appalled. I hope to meet him on the heavenly heights. And hear him gently say How he was guided by the Spirit's voice To Christ, the Uving Way. And how, obedient to the Master's call. He trod the path designed, To every pressure of a Father's hand, In Christian faith, resigned. Oh wondrous faith ! to traverse land and sea Obedient to his will Who only to the wrathful waves can say, In passion's hour, " Be still." He learned to wait upon his risen Lord, And in the stillness know When to the palace, or the prisoner's cell. His willing feet should go. .And, as a messenger of love, he went And preached of Christ to those Whose sin- worn souls the offered mercy took, — A solace for their woes. In the hereafter, glorious and great His bright reward shall be. To meet those souls, new-clothed, at Jesus' feet, From sin forever free. MEMORIAL PO?JMS. 159 Pure spirit ! washed and sanctified e'en here, Through thee thy Master spoke ; And slumbering souls, long fellow-heirs of death. To God and life awoke. I honor thee, who honored Christ my Lord, And wait the coming day. When I shall tell thee how thy written words Oft cheered my pilgrim way. ONE WEEK IN HEAVEN. [Suggested by the death of Mrs. Lydia G. Swain, of Nantucket, who "passed on" Dec. 13, 1857.] ONE week has passed since on the earth Those eyes in death were closed, — One week since she who loved our Lord Hath in his arms reposed. Death could not visit such as she, So loving and so true. But as a messenger, to guide The shadow-valley through. Christ oped to her the golden gates Of everlasting day, And pointed out to her a place 'Mid saints in bright array. 160 MEMORIAL POEMS. When, only seven days ago. This sabbath morn, ^yas given. Her holiest birtliday : now my friend Hath spent one week in heaven. One week in heaven ! Oh what bliss, To change the sin and pain Which mars the earth for that bright home Where holiness shall reign, Where not a pang is ever known, Where tears are wiped awav, Where prayer becomes eternal praise, And nio'ht is chano*ed to dav ! O Ok One week in heaven I Long ere this Dear kindi'ed souls she's found : While I this feeble tribute pen, She's treading heavenly ground With many a wise and happy soul. And holds communion sweet With those whom while on earth she hoped Full oft in heaven to greet. One week in heaven ! I must weep, To think that we no more Shall clasp again the friendly hand Upon the island shore ; Yet oh ! there's consolation here To sorrowing spirits given. That to the saint each hoiu' from earth Is so much time in heaven. MEMORIAL POEMS. 101 We shall not bow on earth, sweet friend, Before our Father's throne ; Nor meet again together where We've met his love to own : But oh ! there's comfort in the thought, That those through Jesus joined Will meet at last, when welcomes sweet Are not with farewells twined. LITTLE JOSEY. FAST his sands of life were passing : Josey knew that he must die ; And with feeble voice he whispered, " Would I'd been a better boy ! " Then he softly said, "Our Father," Raising heavenward his eye. " Hallowed be thy name," he whispered ; " Kingdom come, and will be done." Then his voice, so feeble, faltered ; And the prayer but just begun. He besought the dear ones round him, For his sake, to whisper on. Never sought repentant sinners Pardon through the blessed Son, But the voice of Jesus whispered, '-'• Peace and pardon is thine own." 11 162 MEMORIAL POEMS. Weep no more for little Josey : His immortal crown is won. Softly did the angels gather Round his love-watched conch of pain, Soothing him till they were summoned To their glorious home again ; Then they bore his deathless spirit Up to join the heavenly trahi. " LIVE FOR OTHERS." [The late Dr. Wm. A. Alcott, well known as a philanthropist, and the author of many works on hygiene, * when upon his death-bed sent a mes- sage to his only son, then absent at Williams College, which "reflected the animating impulse of his entire life," viz., " To live for oihers.'''''\ nVTOBLE message ! truly, bravely, 1 \ E'er the dying father strove Thus to live and toil for others, With a life-long zeal and love. Now his mantle must be yielded, Who should wear it but his son ? Who but he, by such a father. Should to such a path be won ? * Dr. Alcott was the author of more than a hundred and fifty volumes, which show plainly that he lived for others. MEMORIAL POEMS. 163 Glorious message ! when his jewels God shall gather from the dust, He who such a message heedeth Shall be numbered with the just. He who lives and toils for others, Bearing meekly every cross, Shall be found b}^ the Refiner Gold forever free from dross. Holy message ! fitly uttered By the dying lips of one Who in humble self-denial Daily followed God's dear Son. Let the motto, " Live for others^''^ On our hearts be written now ; For the unselfish spirit weareth Heaven's mark upon his brow. MAJOR SOULE. EEST, Christian soldier ! for the war is o'er; The strife is ended with the victory gained. Thy country needs thy loyal sword no more ; The Union hath to Freedom's height attained. 'Tis well that she no more hath need of thee ; For thou hast risen far beyond her call : From sin and sorrow thou art truly free, Holding amid the blest high festival. 164 MEMORIAL POEMS. We lay our tributes at thy loyal feet ; We crown thy head with Fame's immortal bays ; We hail thee in those bonds, so pure and sweet, Which bind to God through everlasting days. Soldier and Christian ! long shall Memory keep Thy words of patriot zeal and holy faith, Till those who listen share thy last, long sleep. And rise with thee victorious over death. God shield thy lambs, and guide them to his fold, Blessing their spirits, aiding them to bless. And prove his promise, better far than gold, In caring^ for the lone and fatherless. And when the silent boatman comes for me, May I, like thee, depart with holy joy, — Launch, like thee, fearless on the unknown sea, « And anchor where the bliss hath no alloy ! Till then I'll cherish in my loyal heart The memory of thy noble, stainless life. And, while regretting thou shouldst soon depart. With all true patriots joy o'er ended strife. Farewell, O Christian soldier ! sweetly rest In the dear presence of the Prince of peace ; Waiting until thou shalt be fully blest, As death shall give thy loved ones their release. MEMORIAL POEMS. 165 ELIOT'S MONUMENT. T I MS well: the massive shaft should stand, A- Memorial of a by-gone day, When apostolic Eliot preached To souls that long have passed away. The spreading branches, 'neath whose shade The man of God so meekly stood. Have disappeared, as Time's sharp axe Struck at the monarch of the wood. But still the truths he there proclaimed. In all their pristine glory stay Where once he stood ; and his pure fame Linked to those truths shall ne'er decay. Oh ! better far the name he won Than those which Rome's proud conquerors wore: Theirs was the dross which vanishes. And his the pure and priceless ore. The tree has fallen which to him Was chapel, roof, and holy shrine ; And all that tawny forest-tribe Which listened, now has known decline. The red man lingered not, but passed Before the white man's kingly tread ; And Natick names her Eliot Among her honored, speaking dead. 166 MEMORIAL POEMS. So^may we live, that, when to us The scenes of earth shall be no more, Our memories, like an echo sweet. Shall still remain upon this shore ! So live, that, when the Lord shall count Each radiant, pure, and precious gem, We shall be numbered with the host That form his glorious diadem ! MY FAREWELL TO 1864. THE year is vanishing : I hear The sound of flying feet. As onward haste the rapid hours The olden Past to greet. What hast thou been to me, Old Year, So swift receding now ? Answer, O Time ! for thou hast placed Thy wrinkles on my brow. Thou hast taken away, O passing year ! The loved of long ago ; Thou hast left the lips that my love hath pressed In the casket lying low. And the noble youth, our household pet. Our brother 3'Oung and brave. Thou hast hid him, too, from our loving sight, Far under the distant wave. MEMORIAL POEMS. 167 My fair young sister ! the evening breeze, Through the pine-trees sighing now, Seems whispering " Mary." O heart of mine ! Be still, and humbly bow ; For the dear God dealt with that sister fair So tenderly the while. That the tearful eyes which above her watched Could upward look and smile. Old Year, thou hast garnered, too, the ^heaf All ripe for the harvest-hour ; And the placid smile of my early guide I shall see on earth no more. My father's mother ! she sits not now In the place of silent prayer. With her Quaker garb ; but she worships still, And I hope to meet her there, — There, under the roof of the temple high. No mortal hand hath reared. Where the heart is free, and the worship pure, And no soul by sin is marred. Oh ! there I may meet her, and read again. As oft in the olden time. Some word prophetic, or some high truth, Soft-clothed in the music rhyme. But I pause ; for hark ! the winds sigh low And sad 'mid the pines to-night. And I think of another dear saint who has gone To walk with our Lord in white. 1(58 MEMORIAL POEMS. My pastor's wife, aiul my heart's choice friend ; Okl Year ! I saw her die Ere thine antumn leaves had strewn the earth ; But lier record was on hiHi. o God knows how sad is this heart of mine When I think of the loved ones gone ! God knows how sweet is the hope which cheers ^ly heart as my days pass on ! Old Year, fiirewell ! there will dawn for me A bright and a glad New Year, When my loved and lost I again shall see, And no more partings fear. POEMS OF SYMPATHY. POEMS OF SYMPATHY. A BABY BORNE AWAY. HUSH ! 'tis a little coffin, and a tiny form is there : Only a promise-bud is plucked from out a garden fair. Rare blossoms, full-bloomed, fragrant, and beautiful remain : Why miss one little mignonette from out the gor- geous train ? Ah ! but the babe was precious to the yearning mother's heart : This early gathered flow'ret seemed of her own life a part ; And though the casket was so small, 'twas cast in no rough mould, And held a jewel costlier far than El-Dorado's gold. That baby form, so frail and weak, divinity en- shrined, — A spark of heaven's holiest fire, a young immortal mind. 171 172 POEMS OF SYMPATHY. Affection true and tender in its helplessness it woke ; And tendrils round fond hearts intwined, which Death hath never broke. A feeble infant once it was, a suffering, patient child ; But now upon the shining shore, all safe and unde- liled, 'Twill grow a strong-winged angel, and blessings bear to her Whose never-waning love will prove o'er death a conqueror. That love outstretches all the little bounds of time, And knows its only limit on that holy height sub- lime. Where faith is lost in sight, and those who said " Farewell ! " With all they love, in bowers of bliss, forevermore shall dwell. TO A MOTHERLESS FRIEND. LET me draw near thee in this hour of sadness. Friend of my early days ! Thou who didst send full many a ray of gladness Across my j^outhful ways. I offer thee a cup of consolation. Whose taste mine heart liath known In seasons of that spirit-desolation Which have been oft mine own. POEMS OF SYMPATHY. 173 Thou mournest now the absence of a mother, Loved, tender, wise, and true : She hath but passed from this world to another Scarcely beyond thy view. Where the dear objects that our souls have cherished Fade like the stars away : Out of our sight are they, but oh ! not perished, But lost in heaven's day. Our eyes are weak ; the mists of earth have dimmed them ; Their chariots of fire We see not ; but with Him who hath redeemed them Our loved ones have gone higher. Eyes that have looked through life with love upon us Have looked their last on earth : They wait to see us when the grave that won us To our immortal birth. Lift thou thy thoughts, in this dark hour, to heaven. And whisper, " God is love : " He hath but taken what his love hath given To greater joy above. Look up to him, and oh ! may he sustain thee, Thou dear and stricken one ! And, by Life's discipline, through Jesus train thee, Till thou art all his own, — 174 POEMS OF SYMPATHY. Till all thy furnace-provings shall be ended, And, 'mid the pure and blest. Thy precious mother, now from earth ascended. Shall welcome thee to rest. OUR LOVED ONE SLEEPS. [Suggested by the death of Lucy, eldest daughter of William and Rachel Merritt, formerly of Salem.] SWEETLY she sleeps whom here we loved so truly: She wakes no more, Save where the angels round those spirits gather Who reach the other shore. Unclouded now for aye her mental vision. She sees the Truth, And shares the health of those fair fields Elysian With an immortal youth. Folded in arms of love, serene, paternal. She now will rest In the glad mansions of our home supernal, Among the saved and blest. No bhght shall fall upon her sin-freed spirit, No grief she shares : Her soul shall ever in that land inherit Sweet freedom from all cares. POEMS OF SYMPATHY. 175 We mourn that from our paths she hath ascended, Earth seems so drear ; But, when our pilgrimage on earth is ended. We'll rise to find her there. Parents and children there at last shall gather ; And this det^^ child Shall greet them lovingly, — the honored father. The tender mother mild. The noble brothers, and the precious sisters, Who sorrow here ; And joy which shall o'erpass all earthly pleasure Shall be their portion there. God of all grace ! who sent thy Well-beloved For us to die. Strengthen the sad hearts in this broken circle With comfort from on high. SHE IS IN HEAVEN. SHE is in heaven, and I on earth to-day : Life's battles she hath fought. Life's victories won; While I amid the conflict yet must stay. And wait in patience till my work is done. 176 POEMS OF SYMPATHY. She is in heaven ! She no more may tread The devious paths of earth with weary feet : Glory celestial crowns that dear one's head ; Joy is her heritage where saved ones meet. She is in heaven ! While sadly I peruse Her letters filled with love to our blest Lord, I weep, as Memory the past reviews : Her willing pen for me can trace no word. She is in heaven ! Oh, why should I regret The summons merciful which called her home ! Her clieeks no more with earth-born tears are wet : Oh for the hour when Christ shall bid me " Come ! " She is in heaven ! Close by our Saviour's side, She roves amid the verdant pastures now, Forever with her Master to abide, Where all with lovino^ hearts to Jesus bow. She is in heaven ! I long to greet her there, Far from the snares of sin, the clouds of earth, Her rapturous bliss at seeing God to share. In that safe fold of our immortal birth. KISS ME, MOTHER. KISS me, mother ! " the pale lips said ; And the glance of the loving eye Told more than words how deep the love Of the maiden, called to die. POEMS OF SYMPATHY. 177 For the noble mother who bent above The couch of her dying child, And smoothed the pillow with gentle words, And love-tones sweet and mild. The mother bent o'er her youngest born With an aching heart that day ; For she knew the messenger death was near, To take her child away. But she stilled the throbbing of anguish there, With the " hush " of a living faith, — A faith that is strong 'mid earthly trials. And calm in the hour of death. Then she kissed her child with a mother's kiss, How full of holy love I And she pointed her lamb to the Lamb of God, And the rest of the saints above. And the music tones of a holy hymn Filled the air of the quiet room Where the Christian maiden, with faith sublime. Awaited her summons home. And the Master called for his early flower To bloom in the garden above : As the sabbath closed, she passed away To the land of sinless love. While her young companions were met for prayer, Where oft she had met with them. As they spoke of her prayers^ she upward passed To praise with the seraphim. 12 178 POEMS OF SYMPATHY. Her last clear words ! they will live for aye In that mother's faithful heart ; And many a time, by a vision stirred, That mother from sleep will start, As that '' Kiss me, mother ! " shall echo sweet In memory's ears anew. And shall bend again o'er that couch with love Which a mother alone can know. O mother-heart ! thou shalt throb in joy On the bright and shining shore ; For the '' Kiss me, mother ! " shall truly sound From that precious child once more. As she welcomes thy coming to join the band Whose robes are in blood made white, In the land where the heart is satisfied. On the day that knows no night. THE ANSWERED PRAYER. UPON her couch of pain from day to day. The darling daughter and the only child In Christian patience waited for the hour When Christ should call her with his voice so mild. For she had found him precious to her soul. When health's bright angel from her presence fled, And blessed the love that cheered the path of one So soon to be among the silent dead. POEMS OF SYMPATHY. 179 Her mother, with a Christian's holy trust, Resigned her daughter to her Saviour's care, Yefc Kstened with a mother's yearning love While feebly rose to heaven that daughter's prayer. " Father in heaven ! thy will, not mine, be done ; Yet, if it please thee, o'er the waters dark. For Jesus' sake, permit thy child to know A gentle passage for her spirit-bark." The prayer was answered : when the summons came That snapped the cord which bound her soul to earth, Soft as the zephyr was her parting breath, And peacefully she found immortal birth. Now 'mid the hosts who hymn a Saviour's praise Her voice resoundeth, where she weeps no more ; And those who loved her blessed the God who gave Such easy passage to Life's farther shore. Not many years will pass ere they shall meet, — That Christian mother, and that angel child : Then sweet w'Al be the anthem both will sing For their inheritance all undefiled. For that bright home where all God's children meet. Where heart greets heart in love that ne'er shall die. And where no sin shall mar the perfect bliss Of those Christ welcomes to his home on hieh. 180 POEMS OF SYMPATHY. TO A BEREAVED FRIEND. WE have met like two barks upon Time's rushing tide : We have parted, but oh, not forever ! Our pilot, our chart, and our haven the same : V/e shall meet, and to part again never. In the harbor above, where the soul shall be moored, Far away from Life's tempest-tossed ocean ; We shall meet and rejoice where no tear dims the eye, Where the Lord whom we love is our portion. There the dear ones who passed from our presence away, And left our hearts burdened with sorrow. Will greet us again, and the glory enjoy Of that day Avhich shall have no to-morrow. We sigh for their presence ; we long for the hour When our eyes shall again rest upon them, ; And we almost regret that the messenger Death So early for heaven hath won them. Yet deep in our heart of hearts cherish we now Such love to our dear risen Saviour, That we echo his words 'mid Gethsemane's gloom, " Not my will, but thine. Lord, forever." Baptized oft with suffering, and tasted the cup Which our jNIaster hath drank deep before us, With Faith's holy boldness, and Love's perfect trust, And the angel of prayer hovering o'er us, POEMS OF SYMPATHY. 181 We will press toward the mark ; we will hope for the prize Of our high and our heavenly calling ; Nor fear while we lean on the All-Father's arm, For he keepeth his children from falling. A MOTHER IN HEAVEN. THOUGH every view of heaven is fraught V/ith bliss the good may share, There's added sweetness in the thought, " We have a mother there." We feel her life-long truth and love, Her reverence for the right, Prepared her for a home above, And leaves her memory bright. As summer breezes softly float O'er mead and flowery dell, So to our hearts her earnest words. Remembered, oh, so well ! They linger in our memory now, As tones of music sweet, And will as gems be cherished e'er, Till we again shall meet. 182 POEMS OF SYMPATHY. Wliate'er her task in early life To curb each wayward will, We prospered in the noble strife, And mother loves us still. How blest the thought that mother dear, On yonder heavenly shore, Each sweet, familiar voice shall hear Of loved ones gone before I God of the orphan ! now to thee Shall praise from each be given. To whom may come the soothing thought, " My mother is in heaven." ONLY AND WELL-BELOVED. AN only child, the household pet and joy, The idol of her home, How can Ave say, 'twas well that she should die, A bud forbade to bloom ! How, but with faith that He who sees the end, From every opening hour. Hath with the kindness of a loving Friend, With wisdom as with power, This sweet one gathered to the angel-band, To sing forever there, In the rich music of the better land. Peaceful and blest as fair ! POEMS OF SYMPATHY. 183 God gave his Only and his Well-beloved, To die upon the cross : Oh, let our spirits, every fear removed, Count gain what earth calls loss ! Earth with its sorrows is no more to her. Who sinless heights hath gained : The bliss secured by Christ the Conqueror She early hath attained. And safe upon the glad and peaceful shore, The well-beloved may rest : God loves and guards our dear one evermore. And yet will make us blest, When we have followed him by, faith a while, With a re-union hour. Where sin can nevermore our hearts beguile, And death has lost his power. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. "NO TURNING BACK.' [The Eev. Dr. Hamlin, in his interesting discourse on Religious Liberty in Turkey, delivered at the South Church, Salem, on the afternoon of Sunday, March 17, 1861, gave the following as the purport of a note secretly sent from one small band of persecuted Christians in Turkey to another company in similar circumstances : " We are seven men, faithful and true. There is death, but no turning back." This concise but comprehensive missive has suggested the following lines:] WHY should we turn ? the desert is behind us ; Before us only lies the goodly land, Where verdant fields and shady rills will 'mind us, By blissful contrast, of burning sand. Why should we turn ? the joys of earth are fleeting ; Each gorgeous bubble bursts before our eyes : Unfading joys in heaven are awaiting Those who press onward to obtain the prize. Why should we turn ? friends dearly loved and cher- ished Have passed before us to the world of light : Ne'er from our hearts has their sweet memory per- ished ; We wait to meet them on the heavenly height. 187 188 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. Why should we turn ? e'en though the way is weary, And steep and rugged, yet we'll struggle on : Christ wore the thorns, his earthly path was dreary ; We follow thee, thou lowly, suffering one. AVhy should we turn ? death may be just before us ; Yet there's no turning back for Christ's dear flock. What though the gathering tempest should burst o'er us. We shall be sheltered 'neath Salvation's rock. We loill not turn ! We welcome Death's dark billow : 'Twill bear us on to our loved Master's side ; We share his calmness who his head could pillow Amid the storms o'er the Galilean tide. We ivill not turn ! On, on, we hasten gladly, Counting the hours before our change shall come ; How can we journey onward slowly, sadly, When just before us is our heavenly home ! THE MUSIC OF THE PINES. ON a day in the early autumn time, I roamed with a friend afar. Where the ebon berries, and the orchis fair, And the loftjr pine-trees are. miscfaJjAneous poems. 189 oil, the music roar of the forest-pine, How it filled my heart with glee, As it brought to mem'r3"'s view the hours Of my childhood by the sea I The feathery fern by the mossy rock In its wild luxuriance grew ; And the trailing vines of the blackberry swept In the tangled pathway new ; And the music-voice of the forest-pines Filled the air with melody, Like the roar of the cataract's waters grand, Or the sound of the distant sea. There the fragrant saxifraga rose By the whortleberry's side. In the welcome shade of the lofty trees, Where the zephyrs cool abide ; And the verdurous plumes of the forest pines Swift waved in their murmurous glee ; And my heart went back to my childhood's home And the voice of its sounding sea. There the song of the forest-bird was heard From the bough far-off and high. And the whistle clear of the farmer's boy As he came our pathway nigh ; But the solemn voice of the murmurous pines Was the sweetest sound to me. As it brought to mind those earlier hours By its roar like the distant sea. 190 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. When the ransomed gather in bliss at last, Where the sea shall roll no more, Say, how shall the heart be satisfied That was born on an island shore ? Oh, the music-roar of the forest-pines May be heard from Life's fair tree. And its healing leaves have a murmurous voice. Like the sound of the distant sea ! THE RECEDING COMET. THOU radiant traveller through the realms of space, We welcomed thee, as to our startled eyes Thy shining nucleus and thy silvery train Gave their effulgence to our evening skies. Thou hast made yet more beautiful to us Night's glittering canopy ; and filled our souls With wonder at His power whose fiat high Woke thee to being, and thy course controls. Now thou'rt receding from our feeble sight, Of other worlds to glance athwart the skies : Go ! and awake to wonder other souls. Till praise to God from them shall also rise. G od the Creator ! Wonder-working Power I Seen in the glorious works his hand hath made ; God the Upholder ! in the robes of might And wisdom infinite for aye arrayed. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 191 Our spirits praise liim as the King of kings, Incomprehensible as he is good. Thou flaming visitant, we know thee not: How by our searchings can we find out God ? Yet go, bright voyager, to other worlds. And tell the praises which from sea to sea, To him who spread thy banner on the sky. Have risen from human hearts at sight of thee. MY MOTHER'S VOICE IN PRAYER. I'VE heard her oft at the midnight hour, When all was still beside. And her voice alone on the silent air Like music seemed to glide ; And I've hushed my breath to listen then, In the holy silence there : Oh ! I never, never, can forget My mother's voice in prayer. I've heard her oft in my early days, As she knelt beside my bed ; And I almost feel, this very hour. Her hand upon my head. I remember how I wondered then, If angels hovered near ; And in my inmost soul I loved My mother's voice in prayer. 192 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. IVe seen her bowed in the holy place Where the saints were met to pray, And close with the echoing song of praise The holy sabbath day. I know by the gleaming of many an eye Her form was welcome there, And many a heart with mine has hailed My mother's voice in prayer. She has knelt by the bed of the dying saint, As he drew near the shadowy vale, And spoke of the promises dear and true. Lest his faith in the Lamb should fail ; And the Master listened, I know, to her Who knelt 'mid the sobbings there, While the parting soul in triumph lieard My mother's voice in prayer. I've heard her pray, in this trial hour, For the land she loves the best, That the dove of Peace might fold its wings Once more on Freedom's breast. She asked that the sons of worthy sires For her might the armor wear, — Ah I my country's call is blending with My mother's voice in prayer. I go to the field with a hopeful heart ; My mother has kissed me " Good-by : " She will greet me with joy if Fm spared to return, And smile through her tears if I die. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 193 And I shall remember her in the camp, And follow her teachings there ; For no siren song can drown the tones Of my mother's voice in prayer. When the scenes of battle mine eye shall view, And the shot and shell fly fast, I shall think of mother, her parting words, And her look when I saw her last. And afar above all the noise of strife, Lifting off from my soul its care, I shall hear, as the angels hear on high. My mother's voice in prayer. To my latest hour will those precious tones In my memory sweetly sound. While I walk the earth, and when, saved by Christ, With the ransomed I am found. Oh, yes ! Avhile the music of raptured saints Stirs ever the heavenly air, I shall hear in the chambers of my soul My mother's voice in prayer. TO A DAFFODIL. /^ OD did not give to thee the beauty of the rose, Vj" Nor yet the fragrance of the violet sweet. Yet named thee as a flower which early blows, Among the first returning spring to greet. 13 194 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. Then hail to thee, thou golden daffodil ! Though of delusive hope thou art the sign, Truth is the same, whoe'er the pulpit fill: Love's token only is this flower of mine. Thou art the earliest blossom which to me From friendly hands hath borne a message sweet, Since spring hath called the bird and flower and bee To gladden earth with song and beauty meet. Welcome, thrice welcome, as the gift of one AVho would send sunshine into every heart, And bid the tearful think of that glad morn When God himself shall say to grief, '' Depart." Around her earthly path may flowers of love. Of peace and hope, in fadeless colors bloom ! And may she gather, where the angels rove. Those amaranths that grow beyond the tomb ! THE STUDENT'S PRAYER. " In every thing by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known unto God." — Phil. iv. 6. OTHOU who gavest me those mental powers By which thy words and works I may peruse, Be ever near me in those study-hours, Which, with delight, from other toil I choose. The volume once by inspiration given, The chart by which to cross Life's sea to heaven ; MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 195 And that glad book of Nature, sj)read abroad, Which tells in voiceless eloquence of God, — Oh help me faithfully to study these, As one who on each page thy goodness sees ! When, with a reverent spirit, I shall take The book divine to con its lessons o'er, Dear Master, bid my soul to joy awake. As thy rich love shall be my garnered lore ; And let the record of thy spotless life Inspire me for the earnest Christian strife, And every wise requirement of my Lord Be written on my heart as in thy word. While Memory shall thy promises retain. To calm my fears, and soothe each mental pain. When o'er the classic page in ancient tongue, I muse on heroes of the twilight-time. May all the melody of Homer's song. And Virgil's music, in their pleasant rhyme, My memory quicken Avhen my pen essays To write an anthem. Father, to thy praise. And each high attribute to their gods given I then may claim for thee, O King of heaven ! And every virtue heroes there displayed Declare but dust when 'gainst my Saviour's weighed, When in the languages still used by men. In lands beyond the waters wide and lone, I strive to speak, and grasp within my ken * The lore of other countries than my own, Oh give me wisdom to discern the true. Nor let me gather thorns, but blossoms strew l'J6 MISCELLANEOUS FOEMS. Around my mental path, that I may twine Some chaplet from those countries worth}' mine, — Gain knowledge from their stores which shall impart New vigor to my mind, wake new love in my heart ! When pondering over problems in my task, While Euclid I essay to demonstrate. While algebraic signs, like puzzles, ask That I the true equation e'er should make, Then quicken thou my mind for vigorous thought, Assist me to untie each Gordian knot. And let the mathematics, e'en the abstract. Assist to make my moral self exact ; Then shall I safely tread Life's labyrinth way, Following the clew which leads to endless day. When on the page of history I read The deeds of men upon thy footstool. Lord ! Each bright example may my spirit heed, And be the sins of heroes e'en, abhorred. As sacred History shall Thee proclaim. Great Leader of the hosts that owned thy name ! May I respond to every word of praise. And seek thee as the Guide of all my ways. While every record of each tribe and land Awakes the thought of thy controlling hand ! All, all, my hours of study consecrate. Great Source of wisdom I and each lesson bless To my aspiring spirit, till they make iNIy mind as well as heart thy law confess. Then, like a hero in his armor clad, MISOELLAXEOUS POEMS. 197 Bid me, in learning's panoply arrayed, Go forth to wage successfally the war Which wisdom doth with ignorance declare, While, with the knowledge Avhich makes truly wise, I point immortal spirits to the skies. TO MARIA MITCHELL. THE bright waves glancing, beckon thee away, And other lands are calling thee from home : Receive in kindness now this simple lay, Ere thou in far and foreign climes shall roam. I bid thee go : my heart exults with thee, That soon thy feet may press a distant shore : Our mother-country, England, thou shalt see, And view her smiling^ fields and ruins hoar. On Alpine heights ere long perchance thou'lt stand. And view with pleasure beauty's landscape wide ; May tread the storied haunts of classic land. And float upon the Rhine's or Arno's tide. But, wheresoe'er thou goest, may the Power Which bids the orbs of heaven in order move Protect and guide and bless thee every hour. Till thou shalt cease afar from home to rove ! May Peace her white Avings fold upon thy heart, As o'er the billowy deep thy bark shall glide ; And all with whom thou, sorrowing, must part, Be spared to greet thee on the homeward side ! 198 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. In rich communion with the wise afar, Mayst thou full many a happy season spend, While the fair lustre of thy natal star Shall with their radiance ever calmly blend ! Farewell ! our paths on earth may seldom meet ; Our orbits ne'er again may cross below ; But I shall e'er thy name with pleasure greet, And ask that laurel-wreaths thy path may strew. But, better far, Maiia, may thy name Be written fair upon the heavenly scroll, That thus thou mayst possess eternal fame, And reach at last ambition's his^hest o'oal ! There may we meet; there may I tell to thee What these few lines but feebly may impart. That, while my 3'outh shall dwell in memory, I will remember thee with grateful heart ! Farewell, once more I health's angel thee attend. And with its wings full often fan thy brow ; And every soul that greets thee prove a friend, Till thou shalt meet the friends thou leavest now. V BRANT POINT. HAUNT of my childhood, I can ne'er forget Those pleasant hours of yore. When free from care, and with a bounding step, I trod that sandy shore. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 199 There have I gambolled oft in childhood's glee, Climbing each sandy hill, Gathering fair shells and wave-worn pebj:)les bright, Watching each snowy sail. I ever loved in Nature's book to trace The proof of love divine, And oft, as on illuminated page. See truest wisdom shine. And there I saw, in pebble and in shell. In wave and fish and weed. Those tokens of God's presence which I crave To meet my spirit's need. Nor only on the sandy shore I found Enjoyment pure and sweet. But gladly up the far-seen beacon tower Went oft my youthful feet. And there, with trap-door closed, I read, From human ears afar. The wondrous words of Avon's bard, and those Which traced Childe Harold's star. Round the great lantern swept the ocean blast, My childish voice to drown ; Far off before me stretched the mighty deep ; Behind, my native town. Gone is that lighthouse now, its inmates gone : A fairer structure stands, To guide the mariner in safety o'er Those shifting, dangerous sands. 200 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. And scattered are the friends who with me there Knew many a happy day ; Some, fronMthat isle to heaven's serener shore, Forever passed away. But in my heart the memories remain Of that sweet, olden time ; So, grateful, I, within a far-off home, Embalm Brant Point in rhyme : Content, if some who oft have wandered there With me in days agone Shall read these lines with loving thought of one Who, absent, yet loves on ; And, though Nantucket's star may seem to set, Thanks God for what has been In days of yore, whose visions linger yet, Robed in affection's sheen. DEAD HOPES. THE dead leaves strew my daily paths, And dead hopes strew my heart. Alas ! that autumn storms must come, And summer joys depart ; Alas ! that prospects bright as morn Should fade like day when eve comes on. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 201 The cherished hope of early years, Too bright for earth to hold, The gay, glad promise of my youth, The flower that would unfold. Now, withered like the autumn leaves. No more my trusting heart deceives. I walk henceforth beneath the cloud ; My heart is shrouded now : Yet, meekly. Father, to thy will, That aching heart would bow. Sunshine, thank God ! is on my head. Since only earthly hopes are dead. What though the forms I loved so well Are sleeping 'neath the sod ! What though the spirits once with me Are walking now with God, In that bright land where angels sing. And bloom the flowers of endless spring ! There comes a day my soul shall know, When all I hoped for here. Forever fresh, forever bright. Shall be my portion there : All that the Father gives the Son Shall share the joys by angels known. The dead leaves in my daily path Win one day disappear ; And vernal beauty clothe the earth, And summer joys draw near : So will my heart, of earth's hopes riven, Bloom with the unfading hopes of heaven. 202 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. ANGELIC LANGUAGE. " The angels, in like manner, can utter in a few words singular the things which are written in a volume of any book, and can express such things, or every word, as elevate its meaning to interior wisdom; for their speech is such, that it is consonant with affections, and every word with ideas. Ex- pressions are also varied, by an infinity of methods, according to the series of the things which are in a complex in the thought." — Swedenborg. HOW faint and feeble are the words we speak When deep emotions in our souls awake ! How vainly do we strive our inmost heart To friends on earth by language to impart ! When, heavenly Logos ! will the hour draw nigh That angel-language will our need supply ? Oft have my lips to silence been compelled, Because the love, which from deep fountains welled For cherished friends, had utterance denied ; Since earth hath not that language, deep and wide, Yet comprehensive, which those bright ones" know Who dwell in bliss where soon we hope to go. Oft as my soul has bowed in solemn prayer, I"ve sought to speak its adoration there, And sighed in vain for that live, burning coal Which touched the poet-prophet's lips of old. And yet rejoiced that Christ could read my heart, And knew the worship language failed t'impart. There comes a day, my spirit joys to know, When thought and utterance side by side shall flow : MISCF.LLANKOUS POEMS. 203 Both from the fount of the affections spring, And each the wealth of heavenly wisdom bring. O blessed Master ! bring me to that land Where those I love my heart shall understand. Guide me, oh, guide me ! o'er Life's waters dark, Till moored in heaven is my spirit bark. Where, with angelic language, I may tell My love for him who " doeth all things well," Life's stormy gales to heavenly zephyrs lulled, And all my soul by perfect love controlled. ON THE SHORE OF THE SOUNDING SEA. Air. — " Banhs of the Blue Moselle.^ OH ! I'd love to wander a while, my friend, Far away and alone with thee, " In the starry light of a summer night," On the shore of the soundingr sea. And I'd joy to hear from thy lips, my friend. Words of love that are dear to me, While thy soulful tones blend with ocean's moans, On the shore of the sounding sea. Oh ! I'd love to look in thine eyes, my friend, And there read of thy love for me ; And a sister's smile should my heart beguile, On the shore of the sounding sea. 204 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. And we'd talk, as we noticed the gleam afar, Where the beacon-light burns free. Of the faith we share, as we wander there, On the shore of the sounding sea. And we'll kneel on the sands while the stars shine bright ; And we'll pray that we each may be As a beacon-light in some traveller's night. On the shore of Life's sounding sea ; And we'll talk of the land where the angels dwell, Of the home where we long to be, — Where loved ones greet, and the parted meet. On the shore of Eternity's sea. ^ Ere we leave the spot we will breathe a prayer, — ' I for thee, and thou, love, for me, — That our love may endure when we meet no more On the shore of the sounding sea ; And as home we turn from the pebbly beach. Where we oft have joyed to be. Our hearts will be light, and our hopes be bright, On the shore of the sounding sea. VIOLETS. IN that parterre toward which our steps are tend- ing. The violets never die : Let us with joy our pilgrim way be wending, To greet their bloom on high. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 205 Sweet friend ! my heart's best thanks to thee are given For every violet blue : Sweet early blooms ! how oft they speak of heaven, And all things fair and true I They tell of One whose promise is unfailing : Spring-time hath surely come ; So, Life's long winter o'er, we shall be hailing, As promised, heaven's glad bloom. Type of the spirit from the rough world shrinking, Hiding in lowly bed, The ddl^s of heaven with a glad heart drinking. Though bowed the reverent head. How — more than a royal giver ! — is it spending Its fragrance on the air. Asking no homage, but its good-will sending Like sunshine everywhere. Thank God for violets with their blue-eyed beauty, Fair heralds of the spring ! Would that, like theirs, it might be our high duty Glad tidings thus to bring ! THE AUTUMN RAIN. LIST ! the autumn rain is falling, Pattering on the withered leaves, On the brilliant autumn blossoms. On the farmer's golden sheaves. 20G MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. Summer's glorious reign is over ; Now the storm-clouds come again : Cold and sad, forlorn and dreary, Sounds once more the autumn rain. On the new-made graves 'tis falling, — Heavy drops, so chill and sad ! Changed indeed from showers of spring-time, Heralding the blossoms glad. Dreary days of leaf-strewn pathways I Quickly have you come again : Aching hearts can never welcome, Chill and drear, the autumn rain. «^ Close the door, and lift the curtains ; Light anew the parlor fire : Round those graves our spirits linger. And we scarce can lift them higher. Ope the Book, the best, the dearest ; Read each precious promise o'er ; Think ! no autumn rain is falling On the bright and cloudless shore. There the dear ones wait our coming ; There the blossoms fadeless blow ; There the streams of joy celestial From unfailing fountains flow ; There anew the links are Avoven Of Love's bright eternal chain ; There the griefs of earth are over, With the dreary autumn rain. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 207 ^ CHARLOTTE BRONTE READING THE BIBLE. " Last Sunday, I took up my Bible in a gloomy state of mind. I began to read. A feeling stole over me such as I have not known for long years, — a sweet, placid sensation, like those I remember which used to visit me when I was a little child, and, on Sunday evenings in summer, stood by the open window, reading the life of a certain French nobleman, who attained a purer and higher degree of sanctity than has been known since the days of the early martyrs." — Memoirs of Charlotte Bronte. TTIWAS holy time : the winter sun gleamed I coldly from the skies, And in the heart few summer thoughts could easily arise. Tlie birds were wanting from the groves the list'ning ear to charm ; The chilly atmosphere almost forbade the heart to warm. And, in this cold and dreary time, a maiden 'gan to read, Her heart depressed, her soul benumbed, and none her state to heed. But, from on high, a Father saw ; his book was in her hand, And swiftly o'er her soul he sent airs from the better land : They wafted peace and joy to her the motherless and lone. And cheered her with an influence which she had seldom known. 208 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. Long years had passed since she had breathed that aroma sublime : It brought back vanished memories of hours in sum- mer time, When, as a child, she read a book by casement opened wide ; And sweet, bright visions cheered her soul at sab- bath eventide. What book was that whose pages had a charm for childhood's hour ? 'Twas e'en a record of a life so holy, that its power Was felt in plastic childhood's time as if a magi's rod, And proved the channel through which came the glo- rious peace of God : So now, as reading in the book, which, more than all beside. Tells how the holy-hearted have for others lived and died. Those fragrant zephyrs, from the land where flower- ets never fade. Around her spirit, as of yore, in welcome sweetness played. Nor can we wonder ; for the book was redolent of heaven. With its story of the Crucified, through whom are sins forgiven ; With its record of the wondrous works our God on earth hath wrought. And its revelations of the land with radiant glory fraught. Oh ! when our hearts, with gloom o'ercast, shrink from the winter sky, MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 209 And oft we wish Hope's summer day could evermore be nigh, How like dear, soothing angels come those promises sublime Which speak of happier days for us, beyond the bounds of Time ! Well might the gifted lady oft its holy pages read. And gather strength and hope and joy for her deep spirit-need : For to the soul which seeketh light from its rich, va- ried lore Shall calm and holy peace and joy be given evermore ; And whether read in winter's cold, or 'mid the sum- mer's heat. Will bear to all who read in faith an influence pure and sweet. DEATH IN THE STATE HOUSE.* " Leaves have their time to fall, And flowers to wither in the north wind's breath, And stars to set ; but all, Thou hast all seasons for thine own, Death ! " Mrs. Remans. AS Indian archer in the Western wilds Oft sends an arrow to the timid deer. Who, unsuspecting, at the rippling stream Quaffs the cold water with no thought of fear, — * Suggested by the recent death of Hon. James Clark of Boston, who was listening to a debate in the Hall of Representatives, at the Massachusetts State House, at the time of his decease. 210 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. So Death, with well-filled quiver at his back, And bow well strung, his barbed missive sends When least the victim dreams of danger near, And sips the nectar of swift hours with friends. At home, abroad, on sea, on land, the cry, " Come to the Spirit Land ! " alike is heard ; Nor youth, nor age, may lightly heed the call, Howe'er that voice the spirit may have stirred. Within the halls of legislative fame, One noble patriot met the conqueror. Death ; That '' old man eloquent," * whose utterance true Expressed content with his expiring breath. And now within the stately, massive walls Of that fair structure, Massachusetts' pride I Beneath that dome, the Tri-mount City's crown, With sudden summons hath a good man died. But shall these halls to us be filled with gloom, Since through them Death may glide, unheard, un- seen. And proveth thus all places, scenes, and times Are his for reaping, his for triumphing ? Oh, no ! the place is hallowed where he treads Who breaks the bonds which bind a soul to earth. That terrene spot henceforth is glorified From whence a spirit had its heavenly birth. * Hon. John Quincy Adams died in the Capitol at Washington. His last words were, " This is the last of earth: I am content." MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 211 Death in the State House ! If an archer he, Who strikes the unsuspecting with his dart, Not less a liberator is the power Which opes the pearly gates to each true heart. Death in the State House ! Let the brave hearts left To fight the battles still of human life Be warned by this event to gird anew Their spirit-armor for the moral strife. So whether called from earth 'mid home's sweet rest, Or 'mid the whirl of business or its care. His coming shall be welcome, who shall lift The veil which hides the bliss we Ions: to share. THE CHILD'S MESSAGE. [It is stated by some writer, that a little girl was present at the funeral of a young companion. She had never looked upon a lifeless body. The cof- fin was surrounded with flowers tastefully arrayed, and the sleeping infant within looked lovely as if in slumber. The little girl, who was lifted up to look at it, suddenly leaned over, kissed the cheek of the sleeper, whispering in childisli accents, " Give my love to God." This little incident is but paraphrased in the following lines: — ] BY parental kindness sheltered, Ne'er the little cliild had seen One whose form of lifeless beauty Wore Death's sad and solemn mien ; Till a youthful, loved companion Soared to seek an angel's home. And the little girl was lifted To behold her lifeless form. 212 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. Then the child, no death-scene fearing, Gazed upon the flowers around, Wondering that from lips so lovely Came no pleasant, wonted sound ; Bent she o'er the tiny coffin, — Sunshine all her face abroad, — Kissed the cheek of marble coldness. Whispering, " Give my love to God! " Thus, if childlike each in spirit, We in childlike trust may bend O'er the couch where Death is calling Some beloved and cherished friend ; And, while Faith's unclouded vision Sees them soar to heavenly rest, Send, as if to far-off country. Loving message to the blest. THE CHILDREN'S CONCERT. I SAW them in their snowy robes, with wreaths of evergreen Around each youthful brow int wined, a rare and lovely scene ; While o'er tlieir heads the flaming arch reminded of the throne, With glorious rainbow round about, where Jesus sits alone. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 213 Around, above, festooned or free, our country's flag appeared. And brilliant flowers and garlands green the vision sweetly cheered. I saw it all, a fairy scene ! I heard the organ's swell ; And silvery voices sounded forth, clear as a chiming bell. I heard the song of praise to Him who sits enthroned on high. And thought the children looked as if but just from yonder sky. " The Dear Old Flag " I heard them sing, and saw their banners wave, While suddenly our ensign dropped above the fair and brave ; And while from many an eye the tear unbidden started there, Quick from my spirit bounded forth the utterance of prayer. '^ O God ! preserve our country in this her trial- time, And bid the bell of Liberty ring out its loudest chime. Till North and South and East and West in right- eousness agree, And morning's sun and evening's stars shine only on the free. Then will our flag, how truly loved, be dearer than before, And, in its beauty, wave above a glad and peaceful shore." 214 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. The evening sped, the music ceased, the children passed away ; But in full many a listener's heart the echoes sweet will stay, And many a fervent prayer ascend, that to each child be given A place amid the angel-choirs that sing the songs of heaven. FLOWERS. BRIGHT emanations of creative will. How oft with pleasure jq my bosom fill ! How oft to thoughts sublime ye call my soul. While wayward fancy bends to your control ! Ye speak of friends, the distant and the dear, And bid sweet memories my spirit cheer ; Ye call to mind the souls that soared away To God's own garden in Life's early day. As fragrant as your perfume now to me Come memories o'er Life's rapid, changeful sea, When, with the lovers of your beauty rare. In youth's gay scenes my soul had joyous share. Ye glorious teachers of high truths divine. Who speak of love, and bid no soul repine, As to the stars, to you, " earth's stars," is given A power to win the human soul to heaven. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 215 While praises for God's gifts to man ascend, May praise with your uprising incense blend, And man rejoice that flowers his path may strew. Till ended is the race begun below. While heavenly Ijreezes fan the ransomed brow. While souls redeemed before their Saviour bow, Amid archangel songs and seraph lays, For flowers on earth may mortals offer praise I N I A Cx A R A. AWE-STRUCK I stand Beside this avalanche of waves, and hear The voice of God from out these watery depths. Emotion-full, my soul in vain essays To speak the thoughts that by this scene have birth. Hark ! to the voice of many waters here : Like that great voice in Patmos heard by John, It speaks of power, resistless energy. And mighty purpose unconfined hj man. To me it speaks of God's almighty love. Forever surging round the human soul : The rocks of sin, the shoals of ignorance. But bid those waves of love in tumult rise, In rapids like old ocean's storm-waves, or, as here, In one vast water-sheet, the cataract's plunge. Thus shall it flow till time shall be no more, And every soul is borne upon its waves. All cleansed by its pure waters, to the land Where, joyful, they shall all be moored at last. 216 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. GOSPEL CONSOLATION. " Only with silence as a benediction God's angels come, "When in the shadow of a great affliction The soul sits dumb." Whittier. How hard to walk in sorrow's echoing chambers, E'en with uncovered feet ! How hard to speak amid severe affliction E"en words of comfort sweet ! What can we say when bitter tears are falling From a fond mother's eyes, Since one whose baby-form lay in her bosom Now in the deep sea lies ? No words can give that wrung heart consolation Save His of old who spake To the sad sister of his friend departed, — " Th}^ brother shall awake." This thought, then, only, to thee do I offer, — A balm for thy torn heart, — Our loved ones die not, when, the bod}^ sleeping, Their souls to new life start. They live whom now we mourn, — aye, hve more truly Than we who here may sing, Far from our Father's house, the songs of Zion, With drooping, folded wing. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 217 There comes a day, — my spirit hails its dawning, — When, fetterless and free. Our souls shall grasp the idea of the mansion Where all God's children be. In God's great hand each child of earth is lying : He loveth every soul. Christ died for all ; and, o'er the heights of glory, Eternal anthems roll From souls redeemed by him who hears to answer Each fervent, faith-breathed prayer ; And we may hope to meet, through grace and mercy, All, all, our loved ones there. THOUGHTS AFTER A SNOW-STORM. I DO not love the snow : it softly falls Like an angelic footstep on our paths, But it divideth me From those I love ; and, though its starry flakes Of geometric beauty chaiTQ my eye, I wish it soon away. Sweet are the airs of spring : the warm, bright days, So welcome to the winter-wearied hearts, Are ever hailed by me. The herald of the long, bright summer hours, With floral loveliness and song of birds, And leafy shrub and tree. 218 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. And oh, how welcome to this heart of mine The lingering glory of the autumn days ! When earth seems newly clad In robes of royalty ; and on our paths The golden-rod and aster speak of heaven, And all things pure and glad. And these bright hours, how do they cheer the heart Amid Life's many cares and burdens great ! How speak they oft to me Of other years, in God's great future held. Sweet foretaste of some better days to come. The Eden yet to be ! But thou, O Father of the human soul ! The green earth lies beneath thy plastic hand. And the pure, feathery snow. Falling all softly through the wintry day. Obeys thy high behests, as do the flowers That on earth's carpet glow. Man must breast storm, or be a pygmy still ; And only puny souls that would not grow Will sigh when called to bear Or buffet : they who would be grand And noble pillars in thy temple fair Must joy and sorrow share, — Must bear the cross the glorious crown to win ; Must tread the thorny path to gather blossoms sweet At last in Eden's bowers ; And looking upward through the blinding snow, Or leaping o'er its barricades iii faith, Wait for the golden hours. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 219 So do I wait : O soul of mine, be still ! Life hath its promise of fruition sweet, When, in God's clearer sight. The fulness of our time shall fully come. And Love shall conquer, and the tyrant wrong Shall be subdued by right. EAGLE ROCK AND MANCHESTER BEACH. [Suggested by a picture of the sea-shore at Manchester, Mass., by George Southward.] LIKE a strong soul it stands, while, wildly foaming, The billows dash around. Till on the sandy beach they break majestic, With loud and solemn sound. Well for Columbia's bird may others name it, Whose eyrie is on high : For me it is the emblem of a spirit Strengthened to do or die. And, as I gaze upon the glowing canvas, Mine heart exults to know Such types of Nature's grand and solemn lessons The artist oft may show. For he who paints the sunset's glowing amber Or gorgeous crimson hue. To lift the heart towards the Celestial City, Its radiance to show, — 220 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. He preaches well as he who from the pulpit Proclaims salvation free. God's altars need such ministers ; for Nature Speaketh, O Christ ! of thee. Now, by sweet contrast, scenes like this before me Tell of that home so blest. When hushed to peace, as waves of Galilee, No wave shall rear its crest. And that strong soul, that, like a rock unshaken, Upon the storms looked down. Calm amid raging billows of affliction, Shall wear a conqueror's crown. God whom I serve ! I thank thee for the lesson The artist here hath given : Help me to heed it amid earth's commotions, Till I find rest in heaven. ELI BEN ISRAEL. ELI BEN ISRAEL, weary with his toil. And heavy-hearted from continual grief. One evening bowed beneath a stately palm. And, weeping, prayed to Yahveh for relief. His words were simple, but his prayers sincere, And offered in the faith that wavers ne'er ; So, like an angel, from the earth it sped. Nor paused its pinion till it reached God's ear. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 221 The tropic sun went swiftly down the west ; And, as the shadows hastened o'er the plain, Sweet was the slumber weary Eli found, While o'er him hung * night's queen with starry train. Then came a vision to the sleeper's gaze, A dream of comfort to his burdened soul : He saw the end of all his toil on earth. And read his name on Life's illumined scroll. A fairer city than Jerusalem Before liis eyes in Orient splendor stood ; And angels, clad like rays of morning light, Smiled on him as they sang the praise of God. A voice whose clarion tones were sweet and glad Then spake to him, " Oh, wait in patience still ! The soul that would enjoy supernal bliss Must bravely do, and calmly bear God's will. Thy toil on earth will fit thee for thy rest. Thy suffering purge thy heart from all its dross : Lo ! angels walk unseen with every soul Which seeks eternal gain through earthly loss." * " An Oriental sky has a peculiarity which adds very much to its impres- sive appearance. With us, the stars seem to adhere to the face of the heavens: they form the most distant objects within the range of vision; they appear to be set in a groundwork of thick darkness, beyond which the e^'C does not penetrate. Unlike this is the canopy which night spreads over the traveller in Eastern climes. The stars there seem to hang like burning lamps, midway between heaven and earth; the pure atmosphere enables us to see a deep expanse of blue erher lying far beyond them. The hemisphere above us glows and sparkles with innumerable fires, that appear as if kept burning in their position by an immediate act of the Omnipotent, instead of resting on a frame-work whch subserves the illusion of seeming to give them their support." — Prof. HackeWs Illustrations of Scripture. 222 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. He woke ! — glad Eli ! — with his soul refreshed, And trod his weary way with hopeful heart ; And, when his pitying neighbor sighed for him, Thanked God for toil's rough file and sorrow's dart. And ever' in his prayer these words appeared, Till rest was gained and joy eternal won, " O mighty leader of thy chosen race. Here, as on liigh, let all thy will be done ! " THE SORROWFUL TEN THOUSAND. " Few ate any thing that evening, few made fires, and many that night never came to their quarter, but laid themselves down, every man in the place where he happened to be, unable to sleep through sorrow, and a long- ing for their country, their parents, their wives and children, whom they never expected to see again. In this disposition of mind they all lay down to rest." — Xenopliori's Anabasis. EOUND the band of warriors weary. Night's star-spangled curtains close ; And, while evening zephyrs whisper. Seek the Grecians their repose : But the sweet, restoring angel,* Twin to one we surname " Death," Will not near them fold his pinions. Woo them with his balmly breath. Deep within each warrior's bosom Was a fount of sacred love, Welling up for far-off dear ones, Faithful as the tender dove. * " Tired nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep." — Young. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 223 Longed they for their native country, As chained eagles to be free ; And they sighed for home's rich blessings, As the death-doomed sigh to flee. With his warrior friends reclining. Mused the " Bee of Greece " a while, Till his dreams took form in action. And he rose to bid them smile. With his eloquence unrivalled, Spake to them the " Athenian Muse," Till his words the dense clouds lifted. And with cheerful hearts they rose. Then through dangers dire he led them. Toward the home they longed to see. Writing on their banners " Safety," Synonyme of '^ Victory ; " Till once more, amid their dear ones, Sinking swift to calm repose, They with grateful hearts remembered How he cheered their night of woes. So, while Life's fierce conflicts waging, Pausing 'mid the din of strife. Sleep forsakes our path, and, sighing. Long we for a better life. Then, with eloquence supernal, — Ne'er by Xenophon possessed, — Speaks the world's exemplar Saviour, " Come to me and find your rest." 224 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. Weary, yearning, fainting spirits, Ere in death jomx eyes shall close, Follow Him through all earth's dangers He will lead to sweet repose. As you wave the palms of victory On the brighter, better shore. You will shout, with grateful spirits, " Safe from sin forevermore ! " Not alone for glorious victory Over death and grief and pain ; But for safety from the tempter Shall 5^ou sing with joy again ; And your Leader's wisdom lauding, Strike your harp with louder tone. Singing, " Praise to Jesus ever : We are saved through him alone ! " THE LAST DAY OF WINTER. [Written on the last day of February.] HARK ! the voice of Boreas shouteth From the mountains to the sea. And the snowy mantle falleth From us, brown earth, hiding thee. Sifting through each tiny crevice. Comes the pure, unsullied snow. Saying, that, with February, Stormy winter will not go. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 225 Fast upon the tossing ocean Fall the snow-flakes all the day, Hiding rocky cape and island From my wistful gaze that way. Night comes on ; and Frost, the artist, Decks my window-pane anew. Shutting out my friends and neighbors From my yet more wishful view. Boreas shouts ! and fast he worketh, Heaping up the driven snow. Till my doorways are blockaded. And the paths no foot can know. By the fire we gladly gather ; For the poor we breathe a prayer ; Pointing up with Faith's true finger, Saying, '•'- There's no winter there ! '' God be praised ! no cruel winter In the land to which we go ; No rude winds so drear and chilling, No more friend-dividing snow : God be praised, while here we linger. For the snow, the hail, the rain ; All are parts of his great purpose, He will make each riddle plain. But across the stormy waters. In " our home bej^ond the tide," There shall be no dreary winter: Love shall in all hearts abide. Making summer, making music, Making joy for earth-worn souls, 15 226 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. While upon the gentle zephyrs Sweet the eternal anthem rolls. Gladly press I onward, upward, Cheerful, counting every day, Welcoming the coming spring-time. Making bright mine earthly way ; But beyond it hourly looking To the everlasting hills. Blooming in eternal summer. Faith with joy my spirit fills. Soon for me will close Life's winter, Soon the morning glory rise ; Lo ! the roseate hue of dawning Flushes now the eastern skies. Soon this earth-life's dreary winter I shall recognize no more : Oh, the bUss of that experience, — Summer on the shining shore ! PARTING WORDS. THOSE parting words ! they fell upon our ears Like the far sounding of a solemn knell. And linger now as lingers in the vale The sweet-toned echoes of the vesper-bell. Those parting words ! they faded on our ears As fade the sunset hues of parting day, Yet linger in our hearts as still remains The holy presence of the twilight ray. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 221 Those parting words ! we clasp them to our hearts, As clasps a mother her beloved child : Our memories to each precious sentence cling, As child to parent when the storm is wild. Those parting words remind of yon bright heaven, As speaks the sea-shell of the distant main, Where all who clasped our hand with parting words Shall be restored in bliss to us again. Those parting words shall in our memories sound. As sounds for miles Niagara's mighty roar, And blend their cadence with the welcomes sweet Which yet shall greet us from the heavenly shore. Then sound the psean song of holy triumph ; For parting words shall yet in welcomes end, As morning moonlight and the gleam of stars Oft with auroral brightness calmlv blend. TWILIGHT ON BEVERLY SHORE. [Written on seeing a picture, by J. A. Suydam, in tlie Boston Athenaeum, entitled " Twilight on the Beverly Shore."] I HAVE stood on the brow of a cloud-capped hill When the god of day passed on, And have watched with joy while the daylight died, And the stars of night were born 228 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. And I love the hour when the eve comes on, Though the glory of sunset is o'er : But few are the twilights so sweet to my soul As the twilight on Beverly Shore. I have rocked on the deep when the billows slept, And the shadows of evening fell O'er the wide, wide waste of the waters blue, Where is heard no vesper bell ; And my heart rejoiced in the calm, sweet look Which the star-gemmed waves then wore : But yet not so dear is that long-cherished scene As the twilight on Beverly Shore. 'Twas the close of a day when the many chimes, And the deep-mouthed cannon's roar, Had ceased till another " Fourth" should dawn, That I stood near the Beverly Shore. Far ofp in the shadow the islands rest, And the beacon gleams once more. As Memory presents the sweet scene to my mind Of that twilight on Beverly Shore. Sweet friend, who wert with me in that blissful hour, Dear children, then gathered around, Your presence endeared the bright vision to me, And stamped the spot my hallowed ground ! Then gladly I hailed what the artist achieved. Preserving that scene evermore. And welcomed the picture fond Memory could claim, As " Twilight on Beverly Shore." MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 229 A PROPHECY. WITH reverent hand we lift Truth's glorious banner, And fealty vow To all that lifts our sex to power and honor In this grand Now The time has fled when weakness meant but woman : The hour has come When the divine transcends in her the human ; And 'tis her doom, Her glorious destiny, to guide this nation Far from its sin. Up to the heights of its serene salvation, Its crown to win Among the people that are known to story And classic song. Then shall no nation be so filled with glory, And none so strong. As this republic, noble, and far-stretching From sea to sea ; "While its grand influence o'er the waters reaching Bids all be free. Strike, then, the sounding cymbals in this hour ! Peal forth a blast. Waking dead nations to the thought of power For good to last ! 230 MISCELLANKOUS POEMS. When woman in the state beside her brother May nobly toil, This land shall take a place o'er every other, And on its soil The grandest temple ever reared to Freedom In peace shall rise ; Its tower of strength, the truth that all are equal Beneath the skies. And as no bond nor free are known among us Since Lincoln wrote ; So neither male nor female shall be counted When freemen vote. God speed the hour when they who've battled bravely Shall grandly win, And women, when the votes here are numbered, Be counted in ! Then shall be oped the glorious gates of morning For all our race ; And Truth's fair jewel every brow adorning, And shall have place To work for God in working for each other, And side by side. With equal privilege and equal honor. In peace t' abide. We will not faint, then, on this field of freedom, But still contend. With all the power God gives each true reformer, Until the end. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 231 And then we'll join the loud and glad hosanna The earth shall sing, When Right and Might enlist beneath one banner, And Truth is king. BYRON. BYRON the titled ! not of him I sing Who wore the coronet with aching brow : Byron the bard alone my muse inspires ; His genius only bids my spirit bow. Impetuous Byron ! Like a torrent poured His glowing words along the emblazoned page, As, like an Arab steed o'er desert sands. With fiery haste he passed from youth to age. Alas ! that verse like his, which charms the heart, And like sweet music fascinates the soul. The lustre of a snow-white pureness needs, The virtuous mind serenely to control. Byron the poet on Parnassus stands. His regal brow with early laurels crowned : Where stands the man? Alas, if on Mount Zion The soul unprisoned ne'er hath been renowned ! Oh that his heart had bowed, in youth's bright hour Or fame-wreathed manhood, to the law divine, That not alone among the bards of earth His laurelled coronet might ever shine I 232 MTSCELLANEOUS POEMS. Too late ? In God's firm hand the scales abide ; We leave him to the Judge who cannot err, But sigh to think the poet we have loved Was never here^ through Christ, a conqueror. Then, loving, grieving, read " Childe Harold " o'er, And trace the footsteps of a royal mind, And wish that he in Christian faith had bowed, And known the luxury of a will resigned. 1864. THE PALACE AND THE ANGEL. [Read at a meeting of the " Social Readers," Nov. 28, 1864.] WE, " Social Readers," meet to-night. As we are wont to meet, Nor to the mastic circle came With slow, unwilling feet ; For we have learned to love the band Who pledge to wisdom heart and hand. To greet our president * we all With right good will have come. And wish her every jo}^ within Her new and pleasant home : Here may she peace and plenty know ! Here may her soul in wisdom grow ! * Miss Emily Ruggles. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 233 Now let me tell in simple words A dream I had to-day. True visions come at midnight hours ; But waking dreams, they say, May be enjoyed at an}^ time, And oft a record find in rhyme. I saw a mansion, fairer e'en Than this where we have met : An angel with serenest air Gave welcome at the gate ; And soft and low he whispered, " See, God has been guiding thee to me ! " I entered at the door ; and lo ! Before my gladdened eyes Appeared the forms of valued friends, (I gazed in sweet surprise !) The " Social Readers " all were there, As now the band is gathered here. And some were there I never knew, — Some wisdom-loving souls Who left our circle long ago. And, where Life's river rolls. Had waited for our lingering feet To echo on the golden street. They gathered round me as I stood Anear my angel-guide. And welcomed me, to learn with them The lessons we had tried In vain to study while on earth. Where wisdom-longings had their birth. 234 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. On every brow a radiant star Shone in that wondrous hour: My spirit felt a holier joy Than e'er it knew before ; And from my eyes a veil seemed drawn, As the kind angel led us on. From room to room the angel passed ; We followed, learning still. Smiles told how w^illingly we all Obeyed the angel's will. And soon we learned the angel's name : 'Twas " Progress ; " and from God he came. So we in Wisdom's palace dwelt With happy hearts the while, And sipped the nectar only found On earth by weary toil. All gladly by the angel fed, And strengthened by the heavenly bread. I woke : and, as a bubble bright With brilliant rainbow hues. My vision fled, but memory caught Some fragments ; and I muse To-night on what the dream hath taught. Which seemed with joy prophetic fraught. One lesson only now I tell : This, — that there comes a day When all who wisdom truly seek Will enter wisdom's way. And at her palace-gate will stand. And take that anq-el's welcome hand. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 235 THE GRECIAN ATHLETE. WHEN ancient heroes sought to win The green Olympic crown, And in the races victors prove, And gain a high renown, With self-denial they shunned excess, O temperance divine ! That worthily around their brows The civic wreath might twine. And should not we who seek a prize Far higher than they sought, Who seek a crown more fair than those By human fingers wrought. Be willing to forego the cup. Its doubtful joys to shun. That we may hear our umpire say, " Hero, thou hast well done ! " Ah, yes I immortal bliss we seek, A diadem on high ; And pressing onward in the race, And looking toward the sky. Each earthly weight we lay aside, Besetting sins ignore. Heed not the wine-cup's fatal charm, And sip its sweets no mo. Then shall our names, as heroes true. Angel recorded stand ; Then shall the fadeless crown be won, And worn at God's riojht hand. 236 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. From all the victor host shall sound Triumphant shouts abroad, And praise for conquering grace be given Forever to the Lord. THE RIDE. LOW hung the leaden clouds o'er Reading paths ; The damp breath of the salt east wind was chill ; And far from spring-like seemed the cheerless da}', While sad its influence on the heart and will. There came an hour when rifted clouds proclaimed That still the sun above them brightly shone : Then came thy message, and with happier heart I sped with thee o'er paths before unknown. Along tlie country roads we quietly ride. And watch the tokens of Spring's gentle reign : Tlie feathery catkins of the roadside trees In graceful beauty meet our eyes again. The bending willows now are clothed in green ; Red flowerets on the maples we behold ; Lo I promise-blossoms deck the cherries too, And emerald meadows oft are starred with gold. I see the birds flit from the half-clad trees, To evergreens where summer beauty shines ; And hear their welcome, spring-time carol sweet, Far off and liigh, amid the lofty pines. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 237 Aye, spring has come, aitliough the days are dark With lowering clouds, and chill the east winds blow : Lo ! still the promise is to man fulfilled. Seed-time and harvest all the earth shall know. How is it with thee, O my soul ! to-day ? God grant the seeds of holy truth arc thine. To grow in beauty through Life's changeful spring, And ripen for the harvest-field divine. CHRISTMAS EVE. IT was Christmas Eve, and the stars shone bright, But the Frost-King reigned around ; And the flakes which fell so soft and light Still lay on the frozen ground. I walked the street of an ancient town ; And a spirit walked with me : I saw on the noble brow no frown ; And I whispered, '' A welcome to thee." He gave me a mirror which showed the Past, — 'Twas the Future I longed to know. Till he said, with a voice like the wintry blast. All chilling, severe, " Not so I " Then I meekly said, " In the Lord's own time ; " And I gazed in the magic glass ; And I saw a vision sweet, sublime. With its glorious angels, pass. 238 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. Then he bade me list ; and the air was stirred B}^ a sweeter than mortal tone : 'Twas the song of the host the shepherds heard When the Star of Bethlehem shone. And my heart beat high with a hope to join In that everlasting song ; And I asked of him in whose hand was mine, '* How long must I wait ? — how long ? " " Sing it now, with a thankful heart, — sing it now: Let thy life be a Christmas glee ! " And a Idss of peace felt my upturned brow, From the spirit that wallied with me. Then he passed away from that quiet path, With adieu like the zephyr's sigh ; And my soul rejoiced in the hope that earth Would yet echo the song of the sky. " WE ALL DO FADE AS A LEAF.'' THROUGH forest-paths we lOve, 'Mid autumn-colored foliage, to stray ; Yet fallen leaves, which rustle as we move, There whisper of decay. Upon the billowy deep We gladly watch the lovely moonlight sheen, A line of silver where the blue waves sleep, — Till clouds obscure the scene. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 239 With rapture-speaking eye, We gaze upon each amber-tinted cloud Which decorates the occidental sky, Ere night shall earth enshroud. And gladly oft we tread The flower-decked garden paths with cherished friend, Gathering rare blossoms for the queenly head, Rich fragrance there to spend. But change comes o'er each scene ; And leaves and flowerets wither and decay. Some lesson Nature thus would teach, I ween, — Some warning thus convey. Hark I from the prophet-page Which points the path of duty to each soul. And tells the destiny of fool and sage, To us the tidino^s roll. *&" Like autumn leaves we fade. Like sunset glory from the gorgeous west, Like moonlight beauty when night's queen is hid. Like flowers once gayly drest. 'Tis well ! I meekly bow, O King of kings ! to this thy high behest : Time writes too many wrinkles on my brow For me to doubt the rest. I know that I must die. Like withered leaf by chill autumnal blast. Swept from the parent-stem, I, too, must lie Where all shall lie at last. 240 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. Though long grass soon may wave Upon the turf 'neath which my form may rest, And loving, loved ones weep above my grave, I welcome thy behest. Where everlasting Spring With fadeless blossoms decks the verdant plain. Where ransomed souls eternal praises sing, There shall I live again. We fade ; but thanks to Thee, O Jesus ! who hath conquered death and sin, We only fade to brighten, die to be Where Death no prize can win. THE BOOK OF JOB. BRING the volume best and eldest ; Read that record, so sublime, Of the man with wondi'ous patience. Hero on the field of Time. Read each grand, each noble sentence. Touched by true poetic fire ; He who would imbibe its spirit Hath upon his banner, " Higher. When the storm-clouds thickly gather O'er thy thorny, pilgrim way, Trust, like Job, till gleam the rainbows. Till the night is turned to day. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. ' 241 Trust that Friend, the best, the truest, Who will never leave thy side, If in storms or in the sunshine Thou in patience wilt abide. Dark sometimes must be our pathway. Clouds will gather overhead, And our fondly loved and cherished Oft be numbered with the dead. But in God the Christian trusting Can the song of triumph sing. O'er him hath the grave no victory. Death for him can have no sting. Wrap the mantle, then, of patience. Round thy spirit, suffering one : Perfect through thine earthly sorrow, Christ shall claim thee as his own. Calmly on thy Saviour leaning. Through the tearful valley go. Soon the mount of bliss ascending, Losing thought of earthly woe. THE POWER OF THE BEAUTIFUL. THE time of singing birds is here ; The annual miracle's begun ; And those who tread the forest-paths Can pluck the blossoms, one by one. 16 242 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. It minds me of a story told, Concerning flowers bright and fair, Which, blooming near a cottage doomed. Were yet as silent guardians there. One day, while War's rude, crushing tread Was heard o'er Southern plains afar, While hearts were rendered desolate. Homes, too, oft met the fate of war. With swift revenge the soldiery To many a cot the torch applied, • Until at last to one they came. With sweet, bright flowerets at its side. Their beauty was so eloquent. The cottage, flower-adorned, was spared, As if an angel interposed When man the sword of vengeance bared. Thus hath the Beautiful o'er man A wondrous and a holy power ; Thus can it soothe the wrathful waves That rise in Passion's stormy hour. O Thou who cloth'st each blade of grass, And paint'st the petals of the rose, And fill'st the earth with beauty rare. To "Kis thy character disclose. Till every beauteous thing of earth Shall whisper to our souls of heaven; And thine own beauty, hoHness, Shall be to all our spirits given ! MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 243 MOONLIGHT ON THE OCEAN. TT^IS moonliglit on the ocean; and the mighty _1_ waters sleep, Save where the line of radiance comes across the pathless deep : There billows weave a fairy dance, and sparkle in the light "Which falls so softly on them now, amid the hush of night. I stand upon the hill-top green, and gaze far o'er the main, And see the rocky islets * there, and hear the waves again. Which beat in gentle cadences upon the pebbly shore. And 'mind me of a distant islef my eyes may see no more. Home, home, beyond those waters ! O home so dear to me! Not e'en the crested billows can divide my heart from thee. Are moonbeams resting on the waves which break along thy shore ? And do the eyes I long to greet gaze on them as be- fore? * Lowell Island, &c. t Nantucket. 244 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. Moonlight upon the ocean : oh ! there is no fairer scene This side the pearly gates of heaven, for mortal eyes, I ween ; And, while I gaze, my heart ascends with grateful praise to Him Before whose beauteous holiness the sheen of earth grows dim. Father and Saviour ! Spirit pure ! my heart ascends to thee. That, wheresoe'er upon this earth my weary feet may be, My eyes may gaze on scenes so fair through Faith's revealing glass, That trustfully toward future days my steps may onward pass. For he who sends the moonlight now to make the deep so fair — God's smile upon the waters lark when gloomy night is there — Can send his Spirit's joyful light to gleam along my way,— A Une of holy radiance and a part of heaven's day. O God ! I thank thee for the hours, when, standing by the sea. Alone, or with beloved friends, my heart is drawn to thee ; For, while its quiet loveliness my spirit doth control, This moonlight on the ocean shall be sunlight in my soul. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 245 A TRIBUTE OF GRATITUDE. [Respectfully inscribed to Mrs. B. Wallis, Jun., author of " Life in Feejee."] MY God, I thank thee 1 to thy lofty throne In gratitude I lift my heart to-night ; For every good and perfect gift comes down From thee, as from the sun its rays of light. Each graceful-formed and lovely-tinted flower Which decks the earth, as stars the evening sky, Is emblematic of thy love and power, And speaks of heaven, where flowerets never die. Such hast thou sent me by the hand of one United to me by the mystic tie Which binds in union sweet who seek alone Thy will to do, who reignest e'er on high. By her fair flowers thou this day hast sent, Awaking memories of an island shore. While tears and smiles within my heart were blent, At thought of gardens I may tread no more. Yet, Father, still I thank thee ; for I read On every petal, as a holy page, That thou art here, thou knowest my spirit-need, And wilt that spirit's grief by love assuage. Then, as the token that warm hearts are here, And loving souls are still around my way, I take them. Father, this petition hear : Oh guide the giver to thy perfect day I 246 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. THE BOYS' HYMN. [Toplady's beautiful hymn, " Kock of Ages, cleft for me," was finely sung by the boys on board the School Ship "Massachusetts," then in Beverly Harbor, sabbath afternoon, Sept. 7, 1862, at the close of services held on board by Rev. Dr. Jos. Abbott and Rev. J. C. Foster. It is related of the late Prince Albert, that he repeated in his last hours this comforting hymn ; and the remembrance of this fact, while the lads were singing, suggested the following lines : — ] THE sabbath hours were almost spent, The sun was in the west, When, gently rocking with the tide Upon old ocean's breast, I listened to a sacred song. Whose utterance thrilled mine heart, And, where its echoes floated, stood Reluctant to depart. They sang, — those boys, — in sweetest tones. Of Christ, the smitten Rock : I thought of England's mourning queen, When first she knew the shock Of widowhood, and how her heart Sweet comfort must have known. Since Albert told in that sweet hymn He trusted Cln-ist alone. The meeting closed, the daylight waned ; We bade the ship adieu ; And, gliding o'er the moon-lit waves, To shore we quickly drew : MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 247 But long within our memories That evening hour will dwell, — The rising moon, the silvered waves. And day's serene farewell. And blending with the thought of words In kindness spoken there, And with the hymns by others sung, And with the voice of prayer. Will come the sound of music sweet, — The hymn the young lads sung About the sheltering, smitten Rock To which Prince Albert clung. " O Rock of Ages ! in thy side Sweet refuge may we know. When gathering storms our skies obscure, And wintry winds may blow ! And may the youthful band which sang That loved and precious hymn. By grace be fitted for the choir Of holy seraphim ! GLORY TO GOD ALONE ! &LORY to God alone ! " aloud they cry Who bow before the throne ; And answering praises fill the world on high, " Glory to God alone ! " 248 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. When Israel from the land of bondage came, Thine arm was their defence ; And thine the pillar of the cloud and flame, To lead thy people thence. Thou, when Life's hosts on tossing waves were driven. Didst light fair Bethlehem's star, To guide the wanderer to the port of heaveil. From sin and sorrow far. Still shines the star of hope above Life's waves ; Thy flock thou still dost lead ; Thine arm is mighty yet thine own to save. And thou our souls doth feed. Then loud along the vaulted arch above. Thy praises should resound ; And prayer to Thee, — God of eternal love ! — " Make earth all hallowed ground ! " Thine is the work : let thine the glory be Who brought salvation down : O Jesus ! Master ! praise belongs to thee, And thou must wear the crown. Thou Lamb of God ! while saints and angels sing. Sit thou upon thy throne : Then henceforth let the heavenly chorus ring, " Glory to God alone ! " MISCELLANEOUS POEMS, 249 "INSULA BONiE FORTUNE." "IVyOT here the spicy breezes float, _X. 1 Nor palms luxuriant wave, Nor brilliant birds with curious note In sparkling fountains lave ; For this is not Sumatra's isle,* Upon which rests Good Fortune's smile. But here the cool sea-breezes blow Through summer's sunny hours. And Health's glad angels come and go, With soothing, magic powers ; And to the invalid it seems The " Fortune Island " of his dreams. Away from care, away from toil, The wanderer here may rest, And find upon his native soil The joys he loves the best : Sweet converse with each long-loved friend, And peace in God that knows no end. To me this isle is doubly dear, Because my birth-place twice ; f * The ancients were accustomed to call Sumatra "Insula Bonae For- tunae," or the " Island of Good Fortune." t It is related of the youthful, godly Summerfield, that, on his arrival in this country, he was asked by a doctor of divinity the place of his nativity. He mentioned both Livei-pool and Dublin. " How can that be?" inquired the D.D. Sumraei-field turned, and, fixing on his interrogator a penetrating gaze, answered with solemn emphasis, in the words of Christ to Nicodemus, " Art thou a master in Israel, and knowest not these things? " 250 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. The tender Shepherd found me here, And bade me know his voice. Ah ! then this " island of the sea " Hath been Good Fortune's isle to me. God bless our sea-beat island home ! Where Freedom early found A refuge from an unjust doom* Is surely hallowed ground. And, reader, may it prove to thee, " Insula Bonse Fortunse " ! ROUND HILL. [Suggested by a recent visit to a liill of this name in Saugus, in company with the Essex Institute.] BRIGHT was the morning hour when erst we pressed That sunny hill-top with our stranger feet. And viewed with joy the rural beauty round. And the blue waves where earth and heaven meet. Nearer, the river, with its gentle flow. Winding in serpent folds its azure way, And farther, in the orient horizon, Old ocean sparkling 'neath the orb of day, * Some of the earliest settlers of Nantucket came here to find a refuge from penalties incurred by righteous disobedience to the unjust laws which forbade kindness to Quakers. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 251 Both emblems of the truth we humbly seek : Here a small streamlet with a sinuous course ; There the broad sea of wisdom infinite, Where we may bathe when Life shall reach its source. Round Hill ! thy name is all unknown to fame ; Historic pages mention not of thee ; Yet Memory oft shall view thy grassy top, Crowned with its single, fence-encircled tree. That tree spoke to my soul of one afar, — A tree beneath whose shadow lies the dust Of one endeared to Christians o'er the earth,* Now crowned and sanctified amid the just. The hopia-tree ! which stands alone and far Where the swift waters of the Sal wen flow, And mingle in the distance with the waves Whereon the barks of India come and go. Rivers and oceans in the pictures blend. Hilltops and lonely trees ; but, thanks to God ! That is a tree upon a heathen soil, This a fair elm in thine own land, O Lord ! Thy land ! oh, make it thine yet more and more ! While blood baptizes oft the sacred soil ; And when the shout of " Peace I " shall echo wide, Let Freedom bloom in beauty 'neath thy smile. Then on this hilltop of the pilgrim shore May the bright banner of our country waye, A token that the storm at last is o'er. And God's bright rainbow gleams for every slave ! * Mrs. Ann H. Judson. 252 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. THE LOVE-FEAST. [Suggested by attending a religious meeting with this designation, held in the Methodist Chapel, Centre Street, Nantucket, June 17, I860.] THEY met in His name who to each loving heart The life-giving word had once spoken ; The flow of whose peace in full many a soul For long years had continued unbroken. They met in His name, to renew every vow Of love, and of earnest devotion To God and his cause, till the hearts of all men Are his own, on the land and the ocean. They met ; and the tide of their faith rose high, As the songs of Zion sounded. And ebbed no more through that evening hour, For their love to God abounded. They met ; and my heart beat high with joy To meet with those dear believers ; And my thoughts went forward to the mansions fair, Which are waiting to receive us. O rapturous thought ! that no tears shall fall When the ransomed meet in heaven : E'en penitent grief shall be changed to joy, Where the crown of live is given. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 253 No faltering tongue shall His praise declare, In that meeting of saints in glory ; For the love-feast of the Lamb shall hear Each member tell one story. A tale of triumph, of victory won Through the might of the conquering Saviour, — Of love unmixed from a purified heart, " Made perfect in love " forever. God grant us a home with that glorified throng Who the love of our Lord are recounting, Who from glory to glory, from grace unto grace, For ever and ever are mounting ! "UPS AND DOWNS." THIS life is all a battle-field ; And Right and Wrong are waging A mighty warfare in the earth. In which we're all engaging. Then gird the Christian armor on. And bravely forth to strife : There's nothing like the Christian's hope, For the " ups and downs " of life. Life hath its gulf-streams, and too oft Its maelstroms of temptation : He's safe alone whose pilot is The Captain of Salvation. 254 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. And Life is full of changeful scenes, While joy and sorrow pass, Like waves of shadow chasins^ swift O'er long, green summer grass. Then seek the guidance of that star Which shines where strife's suspended : There rest and joy the victor wait ; There " ups and downs " are ended, Yes, gird the Christian armor on, And bravely forth to strife : There's nothing like the Christian's hope For the " ups and downs " of life. GOD REIGNS. [Read at the Essex County Good Templars' Union, held in Beverly, May 3, 1865.] HARK to the minstrel monarch's lifted voice, Down the long ages borne to distant ears, ••' Jehovah reigneth, let the earth rejoice ! " And quelled forever be our rising fears. God reigns ! our land, of every land the best. Has long been darkened by the cloud of war ; And on the shore of public peace and joy Break the huge billows with tumultuous roar. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 255 Yet high o'er every surge the mighty God, Throned as of old, doth still the sceptre wield : He parts the crimson waves with lifted rod, And lo ! the long-sought Canaan stands revealed. But in our joy, as we beheld the dawn Of the bright era when fair Peace shall reign, The bold assassin turned our night to morn, And sorrow wraps our war-cursed land again. Why is it thus ? we ask, but ask in vain : Enough, that high o'er earth and earthly things The Lord our God, our Father^ still doth reign ; Still is he Lord of lords, and King of kings. Li him we'll trust whatever may befall. Assured that love and wisdom cannot err : No strange event shall our strong souls appall. For God at last must be the conqueror. Yes, Wrong shall die, and Truth supreme shall reign ; And we who toil in this divine reform Are not on board the temperance ship in vain. But safe shall outride each impending storm ; And see the drunkard rescued from his woe, Tlie wine-cup banished from the social band, The paths made pure where youthful steps must go. And all intemperance banished from the land. Strong be our faith in this, — that, while we toil, God watches o'er us to reward our pains : Seed sown in tears shall spring forth from the soil, And give us golden harvests ; for God reigns ! 256 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. RETURN OF THE JEWS TO PALESTINE. " The Sultan of Turkey is encouraging Jewish emigration to Palestine, and is otTering to sell them as much land as they choose to buy ; and it is said has even expressed a willingness to dispose of the Mosque of Omar to them, which it will be recollected stands upon the very site of the Jewish Temple on Mount Moriah. . . . Some of the hills around Jerusalem have already become Jewish property; and it is by no means improbable that some of the present generation will see the entire city of Jerusalem again in the hands of its ancient owners. That mighty revolutions will follow in the wake of such an event is probably as certain as that the Jews will return at all ; at all events, affairs in that immediate region of the East must ere long become au engrossing theme among the nations of the earth." — Phil. Press. THEY come I to Olive's brow they come ! The scattered tribes return ! They gaze on dear Jerusalem, O'er which their spirits yearn. O wondrous page of history ! O prophecy o'erpast ! For Jewish feet shall tread the courts Of Omar's mosque at last. Where are the barriers, firm and strong, To check the advancing tide ? Where are the Roman soldiers now ? Where is the Moslem pride ? God speaks : t'is done ! Those prophet-tones Which through the ages rang No longer sound in Jewish ears With heavy, martial clang. The angel-song o'er Bethlehem's plains — The note of peace and love — Now like Creation's fiat sounds, And all the world shall move. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 257 On Europe's plains, 'neath Syria's palms, May sanguine currents flow ; Yet louder sounds the anthem sweet Which all the world shall know. E'en 'though to War's fell power, alas ! Broad lands may still be given, Yet " Peace on earth, good will to men, Glory to God in heaven," Shall soon the song of nations be, — Our own and all beside, — Till the glad stream of brotherhood Flows a resistless tid«. Partition walls shall crumble then, And Jew and Gentile bend, With loving hearts, at one fair shrine, Their offeiings to blend. Then shall the bondman fling his chains With joyful shout away ; And every heart with praise shall hail Earth's bright millennial day. THE MOONLIGHT SCENE. [Suggested by a picture of George Southward's, representing a river-view in the summer moonlight.] HOW beautiful ! the moonlight falls So softly o'er the wave. It minds me of the land whose shore God's boundless love doth lave. 17 258 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. How gloriously the moonbeams dance Upon the summer sea, As if a fairy festival Was held in merry glee ! How true to Nature I Launch the boat ye upon the shore ! And gently on that sparkling tide Now ply the dripping oar. Would I were there, and by my side Some noble, cherished friend. Glad hours upon those moonlit waves Alone with me to spend ! The soothing: charm of such a scene ! It Cometh o'er my soul. And, with a welcome glad and free, 1 bow to its control. O Thou who giveth man the power Thy fair works thus to show ! Thanks for the boon, as now my soul The blessedness may know Of gazing on a scene like this, Which minds me of that land Where all is beautiful and bright, Or glorious and grand. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 259 THEY MARRY NOT IN HEAVEN. 'In the resurrection they neither marry, nor are given in marriage, but are as the angels of God in heaven;" — Matt. xxii. 30. THEY marry not in heaven ! Love is not bartered there for sordid gold, Nor youth's bright hopes nor beauty's charms are sold ; But love alone is given For its equivalent, and " love for love " Is all the merchant-rule of those above. They marry not in heaven ! The Mussulman can claim no " houri " there. Women with souls the Christian's heaven share, And every bond is riven Which mars the freedom of the holy soul. And gives to sense and sin a sad control. They marry not in heaven ! Aud yet those earth-born ties, if true and fond. Uniting spirits in the true marriage-bond. Will not be sadly riven : They who were one on earth henceforth shall rove Still wedded lovers in the world above. They marry not in heaven 1 But they who, wandering like the dove, alone. No rest with fond, true mate on earth have known ; And nobly here have striven 260 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. The yearnings of the soul to satisfy, By toiling, though alone, with purpose high, — They marry not in heaven ; But they shall find, amid the shining throng, Some kindred souls to echo back their song. Some harps whose strings have given No answering notes on earth to human love. Waiting to meet them in that world above. They marry not in heaven ! And yet in that celestial, glorious home. Heart bound to heart, and hand in hand, they roam To whom on earth was given A union sweet of hearts, though not of hands, A blending which each seraph understands. They marry not in heaven I But all the joy which glowing fancy paints, The gift of God, the heritage of saints, To ransomed souls is given, Where kindred spirits meet to part no more. And blend, like rivers, on Life's farther shore. They marry not in heaven ! O God of love 1 whose wise and holy plan Of human wedlock oft is marred by man, Praise to thy name be given ! That loving souls shall find communion sweet, And free from sin, where all thy children meet. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 261 REST FOR THE TRUE LABORER. THERE'S a world of light and beauty For the friends of right and duty ; There shall all the weary rest, There the sorrowing shall be blest. In that land of joy and gladness, Where no spirit dreams of sadness, Smiles illumine every brow. As before the throne they bow. Those on earth who follow Jesus, And in heaven place their treasures. There shall find a harp and crown. When earth's weapons are laid down. They who seek, as souls immortal. Entrance through the starry portal. Safe from every earthly woe, Tears and sighs no more shall know. They whose souls are often weary. And to whom earth's path seems dreary. As they daily, nightly toil, Plough the sea, or till the soil ; All who seek, by earnest labor. Highest good of self and neighbor, All who toil aright, shall rest Where the ransomed soul is blest. 262 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. THE SHIPWRECK. DAYLIGHT was fading o'er the billowy deep ; A noble ship approached the wished-for shore ; And watching eyes, which often used to weep For distant friends, now hope to weep no more. A few hours only, and they hope to moor Their bark beside the land they love so well, — To hear fond welcomes from that longed-for shore, Sweeter than music-tones or vesper-bell. As from the west the rose-tint faded fast, The stars hung out their banners in the sky, The lighthouse gleamed afar, the evening blast Sank to a zephyr like a lover's sigh. With throbbing hearts the waiting ones reposed, To gather strength for joys with coming day ; Yet scarce their eyelids with sweet slumber closed, Ere they were wakened by the dash of spray. And by the sudden shock which told a tale Of ocean shipwreck and its horrors dire : For them in vain, though hushed the stormy gale, Now gleamed across the deep the beacon-fire. The boats were crowded till they held no more. And frantic cries arose from many there, — That, though the night was calm, the distant shore And all its blessings they could never share. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 263 Ah, why this sad close of a voyage so near Its happiest end upon the destined shore ! Oh ! had the wine-cup never sparkled there, No death-cry would have blent with ocean's roar. MRS. HEMANS ON THE SEA-SHORE. " The sea-shore was her Forest of Ardennes, and she loved it for its lone- liness and freedom well. It was a favorite freak of hers, when quite a child, to get up privately, after careful attendants hod fancied her safe in bed, and making her waj' down to the water side, to indulge herself with a stolen bath." — Henry E. Chorley's Memorials of Mrs. Hemans. ALONE and by the ocean's side. Night's sober mantle cast around, Afar from haunts of wealth and pride, The solitude she sought was found. And who, save those who feel as she, Can tell the joys that filled her soul, As, vast and fathomless and free. She saw the mighty billows roll ? Perchance upon her spirit's shrine There burned afresh poetic fire. As there she mused on things divine. Or sounded there her sweet-toned lyre. The visions of her early youth, Beside the lonely, heaving main. Oh ! were they not love, hope, and truth, In after-life recalled again ? 264 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. How oft the scenes in early life Of future days a type appears ! Then knew not Hemans' soul the strife, The joys and griefs, of after years ! No more she seeks that lonely shore For whom Castalian waters flowed ; No more on earth she treads the path Which leads to heaven's bright abode. Forever o'er are all her cares, Her sorrows, and her earthly joys ; For praises now are changed her prayers, And heaven's own work her mind employs. WENHAM-LAKE ICE. [An American travelling in England, a few years ago, noticed in a Lon- don street the advertisement, " Wenham-Lake Ice! " His thoughts are sup- posed to be uttered in the following lines : — ] FAR from my home upon New-England shores, Where Pilgrim feet the rocks have sanctified, I tread Old England's crowded streets, alone In the thronged capital, her boast and pride. All day, for many a day, my thoughts have been In the historic Past, and in the Tower, Or in the Abbey where Fame's children lie, — My heart has been with England every hour. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 265 But now a rush of memories sad and sweet Comes to my mind, as, gazing, in a trice My spirit leaps at a familiar name : There's magic in those words, " Lake-Wenham Ice I " I seem to see that placid, silvery sheet Spread out beneath the moonbeams far away, Or hear its mimic billows kiss the shore As there I linger at the close of day. Far off ! — three thousand miles of salt sea lie Between me and thy waters fresh and clear : I may not taste the nectar from thee quaffed. Nor bathe in thee again for many a year. Yet even here thy virtues may be known : Thou hast a magic for the stranger too ; Thy name awakes sweet music in my soul, Thy seJf^ congealed, may soothe a stranger^s woe. Where the worn sufferer, with the throbbing pulse, Awaits Death's mandate, thou may'st haply go ; Lay thy cool fingers gently on his brow. Till the blood cometh evenly and slow. So, like the fabled fountain, thou shalt be The " aqua vitce " for the stranger's hand Tliat dips with faith the chalice in thy wave. Wafted by commerce to our mother-land. Lake Wenham ! on thy shore I hope to stand, And gaze again across thy waters blue. And in that fairer than each foreign land. Beneath the Stars and Stripes, thy beauty view. 266 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. RALLY FOR TEMPERANCE. ' [Read at a meeting of Mystic Lodge, Feb. 1, 1865.^ WE rally round the flag, my friends, We rally here to-night, Unconquered and unshrinking still, Strong for the True and Right. Our banner flutters in the breeze, The good old temperance flag : We will not crush its ample folds, We lower it to no rag. E'en as our country's " dear old flag " Waves far o'er vale and hill ; So shall the temperance banner wave, The pledge of triumph still. The young are pressing to our ranks, With temperance youth to crown ; And they will bear their banner high, When we must lay it down. The day of freedom will at length For each inebriate dawn. As gloweth for the bondman now, Beneath our flag, the morn. Oh, not in word let us alone The friends of temperance be ! But let us labor, — strike the axe At every cumbering tree. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 2G7 In word and deed, in heart and soul, To temperance ever true, Let us our appetites control. And win companions too. So shall our order stronger be, Our lodge a type more true Of that high temple where He sits Whose face we hope to view. There, in the grandest lodge of all, Where angel anthems sound. May we all gather when our work No more on earth is found ! All have the Chiefs high welcome then, All speak the password sweet, And clasp the friendly hand anew Where all G-ood Templars meet ! TO ONE WHO HAS LENT ME THE WORKS OF SWEDENBORG. AS when the fainting traveller meets upon the desert sands With one whose stranger heart is kind and his need understands. Though lips all parched may not express the thirsty traveller's joy. Yet beams the gratitude he feels forth from his speaking eye. 268 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. So I to thee can scarce describe, in simple rhymes like mine, The grateful fount within my soul which welleth up to thine ; Yet I will strive to look my joy by living as he taught Whose volumes of divinest lore thou to my view hast brought. Long have I sighed to ponder o'er the pages of the sage Whose revelations give to youth the wisdom of old age; Who teaches that enjoyment may., yet never must be ours, But '•''Duty!''' is the rallying cry which calls to use our powers. Not for our selfish joy alone the paths of earth we tread ; But while the angels guard our steps, God watching overhead, We are to seek man's highest good by usefulness and love. Assured that all who labor here have sweeter rest above. What if our paths sometimes are strewn with thorns so sharp and hard. We almost cease to hope for paths along a smooth green sward ! God's eye is on us ; and his love, his providence di- vine. Is polishing our spirits then, that we as gems may shine MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 2G9 In that fair land of use and love, of peace and pure delight, Which burst upon the northern seer's enraptured sjDirit's sight : There shall the sufferer for truth be crowned with fadeless joy, And in the works his heart hath loved find evermore employ. To thee, O God ! our spirit's guide to all sublime and pure. Be rendered praise for giving man such lofty, won- drous lore, His heart to strengthen, soul to cheer, along Life's pil- grim way. And ope to him, in sorrow's night, some glimpses of the day. Then next to thee, kind friend, my thanks forever shall be given. Since thou hast helped me thus to draw yet nearer to that heaven Where through the circling ages may thy ransomed spirit dwell. And I be gifted then with power my gratitude to tell I God bless thee, guide thee, crown thee his, when mortal life is o'er. And give us blissful meetings oft upon the shining shore. Where with angelic wisdom we his providence may see. My footsteps from an island shore directing here to thee. 270 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. GOD AND LITTLE CHILDREN. " I love God and little children." — Jean Paul Richter. THE flowers of the field, and the gems of the mine, The pearls of the deep, and the stars in the sky, May be brilliant and beauteous, but not so divine As the dear little children, born never to die. God's hand we behold in the tints blossoms wear, As they deck earth with beauty, and gladden our eyes; But nor star-spangled midnight, nor flowers may de- clare. So well as dear children, our God in the skies. He knew this who blessed them, and said, '' Ever- more, Oh suffer the children to come unto me ! " For the glorified host on eternity's shore Are like little children in innocency. In heaven their angels forever behold His face whose bright glory no prophet could bear : That heart, like a glacier, must ever be cold. Who could wish for a heaven no infant could share. We love them who gather among them to-day, And greet their gay banners and faces so bright ; Rejoicing that none need to falter or stray In their path through this world to the region of light. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 271 We celebrate now an historic event,* — Here first children gathered, a sabbath-school band : f We proudly rejoice that from this village went A voice for the sabbath school through our fair land. The women, God-honored ! who gathered them first In the school of the sabbath, to learn of its Lord, Saw the bud of bright promise to full beauty burst, And then ''went up higher " to take their reward. Be their memory still cherished while children are found Life's alphabet conning in innocent glee I May their spirit of faithfulness ever abound With all who the teachers of children may be I This day a new motto we'll take as our own, — " Little children and God ! " " Little children and God!" And pray that our pathways on earth may be known By the flowers that we plant along infancy's road. And then, when our toil in this life shall be o'er, — All our labors in sabbath school faithfully done, — Life-crowned and rejoicing, we'll sing evermore, '' All praise to the Saviour through whom we have won." * Semi-centennial celebration of opening of sabbath school in Beverly, t The first sabbath school in Beverly, and in the country it is said, was established in 1810, by Hannah Hill and Joanna B. Prince. 272 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. THE MIDNIGHT MEETING.* TTIWAS ten at night; and I, with weary feet, JL My steps turned toAvard a new and blest retreat, AVhere sin-cursed womanhood might find a friend, And sinful man a kind and helping hand, — Where those who homeless walked the midnight round A home and a Redeemer too had found. My heart rejoiced then with a gospel faith In the great fatherhood of One who saith, " Go feed my lambs, my wandering sheep, oh, feed ! And all the sinful to my fountain lead." In the wide brotherhood of man, once made In God's own image 'neath the Eden shade. My heart rejoiced ; and from my weary eyes Sleep fied iiway ; and, with a sweet surprise, I listened to the voice of one who long Had sung in cadence sweet the gospel song, And heard him tell, in tones the angels know, The love of God to sinners here below ; And then, responsive, heard the voices clear Of some vice-rescued, blood-washed sinners there, In grateful accents praising God and man. Who this great work for fallen ones began. The moments sped ; the midnight hour drew nigh , The midnight stars reached their meridian high : The moments sped ; but still Ave lingered there, And holy song, and words of hope and prayer. Filled the blest hours, till homeward turned our feet, And, the glad measure of surprise complete, * Written after visiting the Quincy Home for the Frieudless, in Boston, with the chaplain, Rev. Phineas Stowe. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 275 We blessed the home for friendless ones and lone, And felt that God the enterprise would own, — Would Ijless the laborers in their work of love, And aid their toil with unction from above. Till the lost spirits of that region find A shelter in the Friend of all mankind. LINES FOR AN AGRICULTURAL FAIR. FRIENDS, how we all have hailed in grateful gladness The golden glory of this autumn day ! Hope banished from our hearts the mists of sadness. As sunshine rends the cloud-veils all away : For He who hath the ample harvest given Still rules with loving justice earth and heaven. Shall we not trust Him, who, to every sower That duly toileth, gives the garner filled ? Shall we not love him, though the silent mower Sweeps his relentless scythe, and hearts are chilled ? Love Him and trust Him in the time of sadness, Oh ! just as truly as in hours of gladness ! Yes ; for He gives the seed-time and the season When hearts, rejoicing, gather ripened grain ; And only hearts rebellious with sin's treason Can think of murmuring, when he asks again For some sweet flower to deck the paths of glory, For some strong voice to tell the saint's glad story. 274 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. So, whether bright or sombre be to-morrow, We will be glad and grateful here to-day : God cannot overwhelm a soul with sorrow, That looks with childlike trust to him alway, And only cares, in sowing or in reaping. To please the Lord, who giveth smiles for weeping. The day shall come, when, all our labors ended. Each good seed sown, each path of duty trod. Our faith at last into glad vision blended. We shall keep harvest-time at home with God ; And every soul, through Christ, from sin made free, Shall join the anthem of earth's jubilee. THE CROSS AND THE CROWN. TTIIS heavy. Lord, the cross thou gavest me : JL I scarce can bear it on my weary way." So sighed a weary pilgrim ; but an angel sang, " Strength shall be given equal to thy day." Onward he toiled, that pilgrim worn and sad : The cross seemed heavier as he bent him down. Then angels whispered, " Look up, and be glad ; For every cross shall change into a crown." He heard the whisper, so like music sweet ; His faith the promise grasped ; with lifted eye He saw the green fields for his weary feet. Where the still streams of peace flow gently by. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 275 " Forgive my murmur," then the pilgrim cried, *' And let the cross be heavy if thou wilt : I'll think of him who once on Calvary died, And of the cross he bore for human guilt. " His was the greatest cross, and his will be The brightest crown all future ages through. O blessed Saviour ! make me like to thee, Patient and trustful, till thy face I view." Lo ! as he prayed, his cross began to shine With lustre like an angel's radiant wing, And in his soul he felt a peace divine : "The cross and crown are one," he then could sing. 'Tis sweet to bear the cross in duty's path ; 'Tis bliss to suffer for the cause of Truth ; To faithful souls is heaven begun on earth, And hopeful pilgrims share eternal youth. THE QUESTION ANSWERED.* THE evening hour with soothing quiet came ; The silver moon rose slowly up the sky ; Crowned with young womanhood, two friends walked forth. Communing gladly of Life's purpose high. ♦Suggested by an incident in the life of Lucy Stone and Antoinette Brown, while fellow-students at Oberlin, Ohio. 276 MISCELLANEOUS rOEMS. The queenly step of one, the taller, ceased : She turned, and looked full in her friend's clear eye. " Can woman reach the pulpit?" then she asked. And waited, with a full heart, the reply. Tlie answer came ; but not a hope was born. As fell those words upon the querist's heart : '' Woman may labor in full many a field. But may not hope to act the preacher's part." She asked of God, — that woman brave and pure : God gave the answer in the wish inspired. The seed contained the germ ; and in God's time There came the fruitage which the words desired. Years passed : and she who answered stood full oft Beneath the shelter of our State- House domes ; . And legislators heard her soul-full tones, Pleading for equal rights in states and homes. The querist stood in many a pulpit too. Proclaiming Christ with hope to bless and save ; Her young heart glad with more than human joy. As there she told of bliss beyond the grave. Both have wrought nobl}^ where few women toil, Been pioneers in that cause, pure and high, Which gives her place to woman by man's side. With him to lead immortals to the sky. Their lives have shown that naught can stay the tide Of God's great purpose in its onward flow ; That where man nobly labors for the race, There, too, may woman, at God's summons, go. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 277 A quarter-century now hath passed away, And many a woman in the pulpit stands, Ordained to do the pastor's noble work By more than laying on of human hands. O God ! we'll trust thee for the days to come, Thou who hast guided woman in the Past ; And with a grateful heart thine handmaids sing, " The day of righteous freedom dawns at last." AGENTS WANTED In all parts of the United States TO SELL MY Subscription Books and Engravings. Ladies will find the business, after a little experience, both profitable and agrreeaMe. ADDRESS B. B. EUSSELL, Publisher, 65 CORNHILL, BOSTON B. B. RUSSELL'S CATALOGUE OF PABLOR PRIN'TS The American home should be made beautiful and attractive. This can be done by really fine works of art at a moderate cost. The taste for engravings increases every day. In houses where you find the most, we are more likely to sell new sub- jects. Colored prints may take the eye at first; but there are none that wear and continue to please like a good steel engraving. "From Sliore to Shore," an allegorical engraving, suggestive of life's journey from childhood to old age. In Childhood's hour, with careless joy Upon the stream we glide; With YouWs bright hopes, we gayly speed To reach the other side. Manhood looks forth with careful glance; Time steady plies the oar. While Old Age calmly waits to hear The keel upon the shore. Suited to frame 16x20|. Price $2.00. "Nazareth" (just issued); very beautifully representing Joseph, Mary, and the child Jesus, on their return from Egypt. " And he came and dwelt in a city called Nazareth." Suited to frame 16x203. Price $2.00. " The Babe of Bethlehem," the best representation of the nativity of our Saviour ever published. The grouping of the picture is admirably portrayed. Tho figures consist of Joseph, Mary, and the Babe; the shepherds, who have brought a sacrificial lamb ; and a mother and child as interested spectators : the whole making a fine picture, and an excellent match for the above or " Christ blessing Little Chil- dren." Suited to frame 16x202. Price $2.00. " American Methodism," the only historical picture published to commemo* rate American Methodism. It contains pictures of all the Bishops, with noted his- torical scenes. Suited to frame 16x20|. Price $2.00. Either of the above sent, postpaid, on receipt of the price. Address B. B. RUSSELL, Publisher, 55 Cornhill, Boston, MasB. LIFE OF NAPOLEON III, EMPEROR OF THE FRENCH. Embracing a Record of nearly all the Important National Events which have occurred in Europe during the last half of a century. BY JOHN S. C. ABBOTT, Author of " ffistory of Napoleon I," " French Revolution," '* Civil War In America," " Lives of the Presidents," &c., &c. " This work well becomes, in its size and mechanical execution, the subjects of which it treats. France of all countries, the French of all nations, and Louis Napoleon of all rulers, furnish the most interesting materials for a readable book. Those who know with what romance Mr. Abbott's pen invests every subject of which it treats may well expect, in this royal octavo, interest as well as information. Nor will they be disappointed. The author has had access to all the facilities needed for the full development of his subject. From the first Napoleon, the annals of France have been full of thrilling interest. The present emperor has become in six- teen years the leading spirit in modern history, and is a marvel in himself. Mr. Abbott has been careful to give documentary proof for his statements ; and those that find fault with his details must blame history, and not the historian."— Por<- land (Me.) Christian Mirror. The book is a royal octavo of about 700 pages; finely illustrated by nine pure line steel engravings, executed in Paris expressly for the work; and sold only by subscription. For terms, address B. B. RUSSELL, Publisher, 55 Cornhill, Boston, Blass A Book for every Household in America. LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS OF THE UNITED STATES, "JETrom. "^^asliington to tb.e ^Present Time. IIXUSTRATED, AND COMPIiETE IN ONE VOLUME. BY JOHN S. C. ABBOTT, Author of the "Civil "War in America," "Life of Napoleon," "History of the French Revolution," " Mother at Home," &c., &c. " It is hardly necessary to speak well of a book written to carry out a practical idea, and by one of the most practical writers in America. There is not a politician, a newspaper editor, or intelligent citizen, who will not find this work of vast im- portance to him, saving much labor, and therefore time. It is not only a resume of the leading events in the characters of those who have presided over the Govern ment, but is accompanied by philosophical reflections, and by what we are pleased to notice, — the frank objections of the biographer to such errors as may have been committed by these Chief Magistrates. It is a wonder that the idea of such a book has not before been carried out; and we are glad that it has fallen into the hands of a gentleman whose experience, discrimination, and intelligence qualify him to give us a complete and standard work of reference." — Washington Chronicle. The work is an octavo volume of 520 pages, handsomely illustrated by eight stool- plate illustrations, and thirty-six engravings on wood; and sold exclusively by can vassiug Agents. For terms, address B. B. RUSSELL, Publisher, fiij Cornhill, Boslim, ."Mai*!*. THE Life of George Peabody: CONTAINING A RECORD OF THOSE PRINCELY ACTS OF BENEVOLENCE WHICH ENTITLE HIM TO THE GRATITUDE AND ESTEEM OF THE FRIENDS OF EDDCATION AND OF THE DESTITUTE, BOTH IN AMERICA, THE LAND OF HIS BIRTH, AND ENGLAND, THE PLACE OF HIS DEATH. By phebp: a. hanaford, Member of the Essex histitute, and author of *' Life of Lincoln^" <^c. "SVITH AN mTRODUCTIOX BY DR. JOSEPH H. HANAFORD. The above, copied from the titlepage of the book, fully explains the work. That the record of such a life will be instructive and interesting, no one will deny. Mrs. Hanaford's ability to perform the task, no one will question. She was well known for some years as the editor of " The Ladies' Repository." Her experience as a writer and poetess is large; and, being a member of the Essex Institute (an association that shared largely the munificence of Mr. Peabody), her facilities are ample. I need not enlarge upon the desirableness of possessing such a work. As Amer- ican citizens, we are proud of the name of George Peabody. And, to place the book within reach of the millions, I have published it in style and price suited to the times. It is unnecessary to present a long list of testimonials : a few will indicate the universal favor with which the work is received : — "The subject is a most interesting one; and the authoress has made good use of the most abundant material at hand." — Boston Traveller. " Mrs. Hanaford has had ample facilities for preparing this work ; and her literary abilities are widely known. She has succeeded in making a readable, accurate, and very desirable book." — Boston Post. '' It is a book intended for circulation among the masses; and Mrs. Hanaford has written it in a very pleasant and attractive style." — Boston Journal. " Every young man should have a copy, and make his character a model for his future life." — Syracuse Standard. " Mrs. Hanaford, by her pleasant and welcome style, has made a book peculiarly attractive to the masses ; and everybody will be gratified and benefited by reading it." — Northern Advocate. '' I am quite delighted with the neat style of the books, which came to hand yes- terday." — Mrs. E. C. Srnithson, New Haven. 1 am constantly receiving similar notices of the press, and expressions of satis- faction from my agents in all parts of the country. TERMS OF PUBLICATION. — The work contains 308 pages, 12rao ; illus- trated by a fine Steel Portrait of Mr. Peabody, and six other illustrations, including his birthplace. Sold only by subscription. IP K. I O E s. Substantially bound in Muslin, $1.50. In Arabesque Morocco, $2.00. B. B. RUSSELL, Publisher, 55 Cornbill, Boston. SS^'-!'- i^ ^^% 1 > f-^'V --Hi I %