PS 
 
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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 
 
 ®]^ji @ijpijn#^iJ.- 
 
 Shelf ...IA/^ 6 
 
 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 
 
©®VES' 
 
 WINS 
 
 -^^>4<. 
 
 m eVNTHIK HANN©N V¥ILS@iX'. 
 
 ->^<- 
 
^(ovEg' X^^Tncls, 
 
 BY 
 
 CvxTHiE Hannox Wilson. 
 
 SPRINGFIELD, ILLINOIS. 
 
 1890. 
 

 ( oi'yinfiFTTF.D inno. by Cynthie Haxnox Wtt.sox. 
 
 Ttie H. W. KoKKKi; 
 r I J! r. IS II I N <; IT <) V s !•: 
 
 SPKINCI'IKIJ), ll>T.. 
 

 V? 
 
 I 
 
 3(|jX("I^ oil M tiuK' <\ ci-itic- snid 
 /y ^^ liil<' lookiiiii' ;it ;i ])ictni'('. 
 "Ahoxc my ^my'n I lunc no Jn\-nL 
 
 I find no cnusc for st I'ictni'c." 
 So, I conld nlniost wish tlir.t tlicy 
 W'\\{) i-cnd llirs<' siin]>l(' rliyniin^'s. 
 Miu'lit linx'c no /h\-i(I nl)o\'e tin' hcnrt, 
 
 To mni'k discoi-dant cliiininiis: 
 Tin' \\v<\v\ mnst doniinnTc tlio mind. 
 And so. I \)\'[\\ tln'o. he thon kind! 
 
 (". H. \v 
 
Thoiig'h ye ha\'e lien ainono- the pots, yet shnll 
 ye be as the wings of a dove covered witli silv(u-, 
 and her feathers with yellow oold. 
 
 Ps. T.XYIII. 13. 
 
If olC^ itO IfclCvi;. 
 
 23j)N(yK. i\\ the pleasant t\viliii:]it liour, when eliill 
 'C^'Aiid trosty <>Te\v tlie aii- without our liome, 
 Tlie clieei-y blaze had diawn the children in. 
 Well pleased beside its warmth and «ii()w to eonie. 
 
 But one is missed — for ])a])a is not tliei-e — 
 And soon with ea^ei* eyes they haste to <>aze 
 
 Froni the cleaT* window pane, for- one so dear. 
 His ])resenee bri,i>'htens all the wintry days. 
 
 But as they stand tooethei- lookini^: out. 
 
 Their quickened breath spreads over the fair frlass 
 And makes it dull and mist^' — so in vain 
 
 Their wistful glances strivt^ throug'h it io pnss. 
 
() DOVES WIXGS. 
 
 Tlir y()uii«;est tries to wipe away the stain, 
 l'»iit unskilled fingers only soil the more: 
 
 Sli(^ Lirieves. "I eannot see my papa, now," 
 Her loving' eyes with tear-drops biimming o'er 
 
 'Tis thns wf' look, or think we look for (lod: 
 We dim the glass through which we ''darkly see,' 
 
 Then wonder why our u])ward looks and cries 
 Bring to us little of His grace so free. 
 
 The woi'ld, alas! oft comes before our eyes, 
 And dazzled with its glitter and display, 
 
 We gaze with longing on its offered good. 
 And from the lowly Saviour turn away. 
 
 Perhaps we dim our- vision with the tears 
 Onr blessed Lord would gladly wipe away; 
 
 \oi' see the ''silver lining" of the cloud 
 That bi-eaks above onr heads for one brief dav 
 
I)()Vi:S WINGS. I 
 
 The i(i(jl we enshrine within (jiji- iiearts. 
 
 Be it whate'er it may, will (lini the ])ane 
 Through which we seek our Kfither's face to view. 
 
 And mark our souls with many a soil and stain. 
 
 So. o-i-()ping- 'mid the shadows and the o-looms. 
 And bnrdened heavily with self-made^ cares, 
 
 Strug-o'h's within, temptations tierce withont. 
 Quickly our day from moi-n to ev'ning- weai-s. 
 
 And in that quiet twilight hour, when fast 
 The things of earth are fading from our sight. 
 
 Our idols shattei'ed. our temptations o'er. 
 We look while dawns the glorious heavenly light! 
 
 All intervening clouds shall be withdrawn, 
 And ''face to face" our vSaviour we shall see; 
 
 Forgetting ail these mists, and doubts, and fears, 
 Forever with our Father we shall be. 
 
i. 
 ^iyOl'LD we go oil, 
 
 T 
 
 >^^Tf, some time, weary with our constant cries 
 About the hardness an ! the sameness of our lot, 
 Tlie hand that veils the future from out- eyes 
 Should- draw avside, and show us i\\\ the ])lot 
 We work out blindly now f i om day to dny — 
 Could we go on? 
 
 Could we go on. 
 If we could see the storm-cloud just ahend. 
 Darting the (]uick, tierce lightning from its 
 gathered gloom, 
 The dust upon the pathway we must tread, 
 Laid with the rain of tears, — tliepromised bloom 
 Of ;dl our tendei- bu<ls laid low — 
 Could we i>() on? 
 
DOVKS' WINGS. 9 
 
 Could we go on. 
 Knowing- the very time tlie sodden earth 
 Would be heaped high aboA^e a lieart we held 
 most dear. 
 And the same sun that shone u])on its bi]-th 
 Should shine in vain to make our sky less drear: 
 AVith thought of this, how eould we smile, 
 And still go on? 
 
 Could we go on, 
 If we were told the very hour our- Lord would 
 come. 
 To make a blissful end of all that vexed us h(^re? 
 E'en that would scarce'y help us on our journey 
 home — 
 So joyful it would make us, that I fear 
 In our impatience we should lose 
 Strength to go on. 
 
10 
 
 Likf' liim who saw his Lord upon the sua, 
 And spurned with eager feet the deck, the 
 wnves, 
 And all thnt lay betwixt, at once to be - 
 With Him whose presence furnished all he 
 ci-aves. 
 J tliiidv, with such fair scene before, 
 AVe'd ne'er go on. 
 
 Then* is but One whose steadfast vision caught 
 The sight of nil the hitter griefs that filled his 
 way. 
 And yet whose tenderness of ministry hieked 
 naught, 
 Tlirough knowing at 1he end of it there Iny 
 The greatest load of ^dl — a cross; 
 And still went on. 
 
I)ovi:h \\i\f;s. 
 
 n 
 
 As we u'o on, 
 \Vr well may bless the wisdom wliieli forbears 
 To bni'deu us with kiiowledoe of th(^ fiitniM^ 
 .U'ood oi- ill. 
 Hilt oracioiisly U])lifts ns and our cares, 
 Tli(^ while we lean on Him and do His will. 
 (^ai-e we not then, oi' li,i>-ht or <^lo()m. 
 As we <>o on. 
 
'' Ai^d Y^ Would P^ct." 
 
 |[ AVONDER thou caii'st still delay response, 
 ^ When all the sweet examples furnished thee 
 In nature, dumb and animate alike, 
 Call thee to Him who yearns thine all to be. 
 
 The noisy wild fowl on instinctive wing- 
 Swift seeks the warmer pastures of the south; 
 Thou, wit^li less wisdom, art content to stay 
 Wheie coldness alteinates with arid di'onth. 
 
 There's not a downy nestling- leaves the brood, 
 But hears, where'er it strays, the warning call, 
 And flies to gain the shelter of the wing 
 Outsy^read with anxious care what e'er befall. 
 
 The ox, slow laboring in the fertile field, 
 
 Knows where the crib waits, piled with golden 
 
 grain, 
 Knows where the chafing yoke will be unloosed, 
 And h(», content and restful, may remain. 
 
 1-2 
 
doves' wings. 18 
 
 The trumpet vine that flings its scarlet bloom 
 Aloft from many a dead and gnarled ti'ee, 
 Clings with close fingers to the proffered streng-th, 
 Doth not reject support, however rude it be. 
 
 Let ever}^ swelling bud refuse to burst, 
 
 Or icy waters to resume their flow, 
 
 When the returning spring woos them to life. 
 
 And bids them answer to the sun's warm o-low. 
 
 to' 
 
 But fail thou not in glad response to yield 
 A swift obedience to His proffered grace; 
 The shining of the ''Sun of righteousness" 
 Shall all thine icy hardness soon displace. 
 
 Let bird be silent, vine disdain to cling — 
 Let all things cold and unresponsive be, 
 But see thou make a quick and glad return 
 For all the sheltering love He offers thee. 
 
"Th^ Pfoyal Pfoad. 
 
 lie morn when we had lifted up a prayer, 
 
 -^\Yhich should for that day's need bring help 
 to iruide, 
 A little one rose up with thoughtful air 
 From where he had been kneeling at my side. 
 
 '\Mamma," he said, with rev'rent speech and low, 
 Yet glad "of heart the precious truth to seize, 
 "Mamma, I know that God is very high, 
 I)ut papa always climbs there on his knees." 
 
 (V)uld each sad soul thus count its access sure, 
 Made so by love that died to give it ease, 
 'T would find by Calvary the upward path. 
 Nor seek the steeps of Sinai on its knees. 
 
 In olden Rome, when T^uther still essayed 
 This task of penance shadowed by despair, 
 His heavy eye scarce lifted but to fall. 
 His pain l)ut mocked by each recurring stair, 
 
 14 
 
doves' wings. IT) 
 
 '^'Tis not of (hht, but grnee!'' tlie Spirit cries; 
 Perplexed no more he senles a loftier heig-ht, 
 Spent frame and clouded soul alike set free, 
 Henceforth to walk by faith and not by sight. 
 
 0! rare <>-eologT! which breaks each stair of stone 
 By which, too oft, we strive to reach our Lord ; 
 The tlint gives place to amethyst and pearl, 
 Changed by the mystic ''hammer of the word.'' 
 
 When our endeavors reach the shining goal. 
 We shall with backward glance our way retrace. 
 To find we climbed there on our bended kne(\s. 
 Uplifted and upheld by constant grace. 
 
 
]\Iidday in the I?i<::ld. 
 
 ^|J|hAT is the harvest sono; we siiio^ to-day? 
 j^j^ Since "tliat wliicli niaketh g'lad the heart 
 
 of man is wine," 
 Sing- we of purple clusters that have lately drawn 
 So uiuch of strength and sweetness from the vine? 
 
 Sing we of shaven mendows, laden boughs. 
 Of store house all too small to hide the golden 
 sheaves. 
 The iK'rds" increase, our (Jod's "good mensure 
 running o'er," 
 The brilliant beauty of the clumging lenves? 
 
 Nay! not of these alone, though we mny tin<l 
 Full niTiny a theme for dec^]) adorimi ioy and 
 love; 
 We bless the hand which alway scatters wide and 
 free; 
 These autumn gifts His loving kindness ])rove. 
 
dovp:s' wi]ngs. 17 
 
 But as our feet are broiig'ht tliis day to stnTid 
 Upon the hitlier side of this year's harvest time, 
 
 Let Miriam's sono- upou tlie Red Sea's brink be 
 ours, 
 Song' of redemption, glorious, glad, sublime! 
 
 Her loud triumphant boast we'll make our own. 
 For not while A^oiee and timbrel magnified her 
 Lord 
 Did He send down the swift white plague which 
 marked His wrath 
 When she rebelled against His servant's word. 
 
 As he who in the harvest field of old 
 In tender grace to her whom he would make his 
 bride, 
 Caused many a bounteous handful of his gath- 
 ered grain 
 To fall "of purpose"" at this gleaiiers side, 
 
IS doves' wings. 
 
 So hast thou deig'nerl. Lord of earth's whitened 
 fields. 
 To let us shni'p in some small part the i-eapers' 
 toil. 
 So wilt tliou crown with still increasing' zeal the 
 years 
 We strive to laden with the precious si)oi]. 
 
 Then when at eve o'er all the busy scene 
 The last red sunset beam shall quickly come, 
 
 Hej)ose thine own shall find at th}^ dear side. 
 ^Vhile HeaA'en resonnds with the giad harvest 
 home. 
 
A Glnld'.s OThoi 
 
 c^. 
 
 [T was tlie time for prayer— the inoining- sim 
 ^ Streamed in upon the loved ones oathered 
 there, 
 
 Kissed tlie l)r()\vn hair of Rntli. tlie restless one. 
 Tlie one whos(^ life liad never known a care. 
 And, as it touelied her hair, and form, and face, 
 A look of fixed attention we could trace. 
 
 We read of that sad scene in Pilate's hall, 
 When he, the judge. a\A'ed by the captive meek, 
 Had fain proclaimed Him fi-ee before them all. 
 But that their mad'aing- threat found him so 
 weak; 
 
 ''Thou art not (lesai's friend!" in rage they cry, 
 And, conquered, he condemns the Christ to die. 
 
20 BOVES' WINC4S. 
 
 The list'iiiiig child looks up with eager eyes. 
 And gives her verdict, more than Pilate's true, 
 Her face so full of grave and pained surprise, 
 That they who saw should not have known Him 
 
 too: 
 ''Fd rather be the friend of Christ,'' said she, 
 ''Rather by far than Cwsar's friend to be!" 
 
 (3! sweet, "unquestioning faith which sees far more 
 Than they who cast on Him the purple robe, 
 But failed to veil the kingly grace He wore, 
 Or myst'ry of His patient love to probe; 
 0, wondrous grace! oh, wisdom from the skies! 
 Revealed to babes^, and hidden from the wise. 
 
 For still, alas! we see the many tui-n 
 From Him whose crowned head and wounded feet 
 Proclaim Him King, though His own people spurn, 
 And that sad scene in Pilate's hall repeat: 
 The god of Mammon worshipped— lift ed high. 
 And the true Sovereign led away to die. 
 
''Go Woi?k 11^ ]\Iy Vin^rai?d;' 
 
 PlOr who would lack of service justify, 
 >^By pleading- want of time, or means, or both. 
 Consider what would be the wisest use 
 Of these, and labor for their larger growth. 
 
 Thou can'st find ample time for birds and plants. 
 Time to be very thoughtful of thy dress, 
 Time for amusements, concerts, visits, plays, 
 Money and time for things God cannot bless. 
 
 The price thou payest for one hour of song- 
 Might cause some soul to heai' the angels sing- 
 Throughout eternity: — the visits paid 
 Through courtesy alone, no blessing- bring. 
 
 Thou dost not grudge the shining gold laid down 
 For some gay fabric to adorn thy form; 
 The half of it might clothe a soul in white, 
 And give it shelter from destruction's storm. 
 
 21 
 
22 doves' wings. 
 
 There's not a flower that blooms this side of 
 
 heaven 
 That's wortli the time subtracted from His work. 
 For many a, bud, however fair it seems. 
 Dies by the foes which in its bosom lurk. 
 
 Only the tree beside the ci-ystal stream, 
 
 Where waters from God's throne refresh its roots. 
 
 Hears he^tling- in the leaves which thou may'st 
 
 pluck, 
 And scatters rich variety of ^en'rous fruits. 
 
 The hidden depths of earth must be explored 
 To deck thy hair with many a precious g'em, 
 F*referring these to shaping' out the stonevS 
 To sparkle in thy Savior's diadem. 
 
 Can'st thou not trust thy God to give thee back 
 All thou hast lent in love to Him or His? 
 Good measure, running- over will He mete 
 To those content to wait for future bliss. 
 
doves' wings. 23 
 
 Thy countenance shall shine as doth the sun. 
 Whiter thy robe than that of earthly looms. 
 Thy praise more sweet than any earthly song*. 
 Thy fadeless crown e(*lipse these transient blooms. 
 
 Then only wait— rich jewels thou shalt hnve: 
 Thy heavenly city is of gold, with jasper wall. 
 Each gate that shuts thee from the ills without, 
 A pearl, on which the rays of g'lory fall. 
 
 ■"^Cl^" 
 
Aft^i?\va:pd. 
 
 ^HE tyrant Deatli had crept with .stealthy trearl- 
 
 * 
 >^Biit swift, into a sheltered spot where slept 
 
 In tender innocence, a lovely babe, 
 
 And, in an instant, grasped with iron hand 
 
 Its heart, and stilled it; while the rosy tint 
 
 That glowed through pearly cheek, he turned to 
 
 white. 
 
 Drew close the curtains o'er the violet e^^es. 
 
 And left within its mother's arms but clay. 
 
 Her cry went up full soon and oft, to heaven, 
 
 Not in submission, but in wildest grief. 
 
 And, as she journeyed to her lonely home, 
 
 Leaving the little gi-ave so far behind. 
 
 Her gloomy thoughts rebellious grew, and when 
 
 Beside the way she swiftly hurried on. 
 
 She saw jjoor children at their play, she wept, 
 
 And wondei-ed that hei' babe was taken and 
 
 These others left. 
 
 24 
 
doves' wLXds. 25 
 
 These that would never know 
 Tlie dainty eai-efnlness that liers mio-ht liave; 
 And THESE were many; he, her only one. 
 So, when with words of comfort friends would 
 come, 
 
 "You do not know: ^^ou cannot know," she said. 
 But on a quiet evenino;, when the bell 
 Summoned God's children to the mercy seat, 
 And his dear servant, full of sympathy, 
 Had breathed a, tender praycM- for this youno" 
 lieart 
 
 So sorely tried, the teai's moi*e softly fell, 
 With less of bitterness. 
 
 Now as the thron^^ passed 
 From the hallowed place, one paused and spoke ; 
 She wore the o^arb of sorrow and her words 
 Were these, "It's all in love;"— no other speech, 
 
20 
 
 But a warm pressure of the hand that told 
 What words eoiild not; and then this stricken one 
 Said to her heart, 'SS'/ze knows, »s7^e knows, for she 
 Alike with me has drained a bitter cup, 
 And found some sweet amonp; the dregs." 
 
 And though 
 She saw not clearly all the truth,— believed. 
 And it went far to comfort her. 
 
 And now. 
 After these years have thrown a clearer light 
 On all His dealings seen through shine and storm, 
 Shall she not give to other bleeding hearts 
 The balm that healed her own, and bid them know 
 That all He does is well, and done ''in love?" 
 And when He takes the rod it is because 
 All gentler means have failed to reach the heart. 
 And as He strikes He grieves that it must be, 
 
DOVES WINGS, 27 
 
 And always coDifort sends to heal the wound, 
 Seeing afar what joj these stripes may yield 
 When viewed with wisdom borrowed irom the 
 
 skies. 
 Yield Him thy heart, He'll fashion it Avith skill: 
 Nor let the Master find but sullen stone 
 The where he seeks for bars of beaten o;old! 
 
 ^hip\V]Pc?:ck^d 
 
 ^HE fierce storm beats on thy unsheltered head. 
 
 ^ Thou'st scanned the tossing waves fiom 
 
 shore to shore. 
 No friendly hghts on angry billows shed 
 One gleam of hope thy fainting spirit o'er. 
 
 Struggling alone, all earthly jjrops gone down. 
 Thou may'st not think to breast the surging sea: 
 
 But lift thine eyes above the tempest's frown 
 And clasp the firm support provided thee. 
 
28 doves' WING8. 
 
 Yea, even though thy sti-ength be ahiiost gone— 
 So weak the grasping hand, so faint the soul— 
 
 The cross thy Savior hung upon 
 Stands alway firm, and He shall make thee 
 whole. 
 
 Then safely in His faithful bosom borne, 
 Though waves of doubt may break around thy 
 way. 
 
 After the storm shall dawn a blessed morn — 
 The clear bright shining of eternal day. 
 
 IJ^2:tl?0SJ)(^ct. 
 
 J^XOTHER year has sped with haste along, 
 ^ To mei'ge with others in life's troubled sea; 
 And calling thee from out the busy throng 
 The Savior asks, "What hast thou done for me?" 
 
doves' wixgs. 29 
 
 Dost say, "'If I iiiiii'lit only cross tlie seas. 
 And tell of Jesus on a foreig'n shore 
 
 As others wlio ivlinqnisli fi-iiMuls and ease!'' 
 Dear heart, tlie heathen are nbout thy door. 
 
 What matter if His earthly temples woo 
 In vain the souls that Jesus died to win, 
 
 So be thy life shines forth all ])ui-e and true, 
 l']pistle of the ('hrist wlio dw(^lls within? 
 
 Di 1 God ne'er phice a soul within thy way. 
 Thus saying', "Teach this one the way of life; 
 
 Let thy light shine with clear and steady rav, 
 Dlest beacon o'er the waves of sin and strife!" 
 
 And hast thou passed such all uidieeded by, 
 In swift pursuit of pleasure oi* of pride. 
 
 And taken up too late th(^ bitter cry, 
 •"The good I might have done L put aside?" 
 
80 doves" wings. 
 
 TliP saddest thing in this sad world of ours 
 Is to have tai-ried when He bade thee ^o; 
 
 To strew tliiiu^ own path thickly with the tlowers 
 Loniied to thee but to brighten others' woe. 
 
 Haste then; oh, haste thee! for the quaking earth 
 Warns that thy time for labor may be brief, 
 
 Thy life's profusion may give place to dearth, 
 Thy dread account be rendered up with grief. 
 
 Forbid it, Lord; though pure Thou art as just, 
 Still, mercy to Thiue own is Thy delight: 
 
 Neglectful, slothful, still in Thee we trust 
 To blot these past offences from Thy sight. 
 
 And so, dear heart, absolved from thy great guilt. 
 Assume thy cross anew, more light and sweet; 
 
 And thou niay'st gather shenves where'er thou 
 wilt. 
 To lay in gladness at the Master's feet. 
 
Thii Aiiswci?. 
 
 ^0 fears distuib thy 80ul? 
 ^ Art thou by cares opprest? 
 Just whisper softly, ''God is love/' 
 And be at rest. 
 
 Does aught that He has said 
 Hard or obscure appear? 
 
 Just write above it. ''(hx] is love." 
 And it is clear. 
 
 Hast thou rebellious been. 
 
 And cliMstened of thy (iod? 
 
 Only remember He is love. 
 And kiss the i-od. 
 
 There is no time or place, 
 No depth of pain or grief. 
 
 But the remembrance of His love 
 Will l)rin2- relief. 
 
82 
 
 DOVES' WINGS. 
 
 Yea, thoug'b the coffin lid 
 
 Hath shut from thee thine own! 
 Still say. 'Thou did'st it all in love; 
 
 I'm not alone." 
 
 There is no question broached 
 
 In earth, or sea, or sky. 
 To which thou can'st not in His love 
 
 iMud sweet reply. 
 
^1 KNOW a spot within tbe forest shade, 
 -1^ Xenr wliei'e tlie road eui'ves in its winding' 
 
 leii<;th, 
 Wh(M'e ii cool s])i'iii«>" su])i)li<\s a liin])id strenm, 
 Shfidowed by oaks majestic in theii* sti-enaih. 
 
 Its course lies over stones whose vnried shnpes 
 Crinkle and part its waters in their tlow, 
 
 And many a g'raceful fern sways on its bfiiil>, 
 And in the moss the azure violets blow. 
 
 Its constancy has smoothed a shinin.<>- wny 
 Over the fretting- stones which lie beneath. 
 
 It l)abbl(\s on no more with noisy haste, 
 But pauses to inhale the violet's breath. 
 
 33 
 
;^4 oovKs' \vi\c;s. 
 
 I know some s(3uls whose .shiiiin<i' patlis liav^e been 
 lAki' to the ti'jui(|iiil How of that clear stream; 
 The inequalities whicli stayed their course 
 They heeded not: but, in a happy dream, 
 
 Not iouriieyin<;- with ^silver babble of words, 
 Hut in the golden wealth of silence they. 
 
 Protected by His everlasting' strength, 
 With hearts attent to what their Lord shall say. 
 
 Only disclosing by some slight, faint sign, 
 (A saddened eye, perhaps, in thoughtful hours,) 
 
 That ""in the depths" lie what were once restraints 
 And hindrniKVs to progress; but, the tlowei's 
 
 Placed all about their way by Him they love. 
 Have charmed away the roughness and the fret; 
 
 Their ipiiet souls fed from the s])ring above 
 Have leniMied all other sources to forget. 
 
 So, gliding nu, ])ea(vful the journey be, 
 Passing unche(^.ked to the eternal sea. 
 
A Wasted JAU. 
 
 iJilUE brood i no- night had gnlhered 'iieath its 
 ^ wing 
 
 Alike the grieving and tlie ^i}y of earth: 
 The restless wind had paused in its fierce rush. 
 And sounded ])]fnntively a dirge-lik(^ moan; 
 What wonder? for the requiem it sighed 
 AVas for a soul called hence to its account. 
 Eound other death-beds that same night it blcAv, 
 8ome full of joy. 1 hough there was naught around 
 Of this world's good, to comfort or sustain: 
 But. having clasped the Mastei-'s hand in theirs. 
 And smoothed as best they might all thorny ways, 
 F\)und that when called to lay their burden down. 
 The way shone like the morning, and their Lord 
 Was come to meet tliem with a swe<'t "Well done I*" 
 
If nniniiurpd low al)C)ut these liappy ones 
 
 A peaceful lullaby until such time 
 
 As He whom they had served should come for 
 
 them: 
 Hut for (his other it eould oidy wail. 
 This sold was iu a tabernacle fair: 
 All its surroundin<>,-s spoke of luxury; 
 Xol hiuii,- was wautiuji' that mi^iht comfort <i'ive. 
 Bnt comforl was not: — ever as its eyes, 
 Startl(Ml and t<M'rificd. reo-arded death. 
 It shuddered, shrank, and wondered that the end 
 Should conic so soon: 
 
 The downy i)illow miii,lit have been a stone, 
 80 far was it from <2,ivin<2,- any rest 
 To the wild tossing- head tjiat pi*essed it. 
 The watcher, bending o'er the pallid lips 
 So soon to V)c forever silent, saw them move. 
 And this was what thev said: 
 
i)()\i:s w i.\(;s. 
 
 :r 
 
 "My soul. Iiow liMVc I clicntcd tlifM^! 
 
 1-ji(1()\\(m1 Willi o-ifts. and ])i-()iiiis(M| lidj) 
 
 \\'lii'ivln- to aid a riiiiicd woi-ld. 
 
 I loved that woi-ld, not \vis<'ly. but too well: 
 
 And soiioht to Uhh] t]ip<' with its worthh'ss husks. 
 
 'Tis ti'U(\ that years a<>() the ])ityi]ig- Chi-ist. 
 
 W'l^-ii-iiio- the dazzliiio- pi-iestly I'obes wlicrciii 
 
 He miiiistei-s foi- His own |)eo])l(\ decked 
 
 With maiiy a ])i'eci()us <.^ein. whosi* s])ai'kliitu' i-ar 
 
 (Heains all too bi-jti-jitly for our hinnaii siiiht. 
 
 Cast over them a huad)le slie])lierd"s plaid; 
 
 And came to seek me. ^van(l"rin<i• nliee]). 
 
 And finding', bore with loving- gladness home. 
 
 What joy! 1 tliouglit I ne'er could stray again; 
 
 Each glance at Him who boi-e the cross would fill 
 
 My eyes with happy tears; the sunlit earth. 
 
 Tlie trees, and jdl that was. seemed full of (iod; 
 
 And the scjft air that swayed ilielea\-es whi;^peivd 
 
 To me the vary peace of ln-aveii. 
 
.".s 
 
 hoVKs \\i.\(;s. 
 
 I>iil soon 1 lir j)ictur<' f;i(l<Ml. nnd llic rnrtli 
 
 Held nnn^ln for iiic hut vniiity: I w.-ilkcd 
 
 I'l'oin Clirist ;i])mi-1 — not willi His foes ])('i-lmjis. 
 
 lint yet withont n pni-posc rcsolnte to do 
 
 Only His will: nnd \vli<ni the S])ii'it. 
 
 Faitlifnl ;dwn\s, pled. ni'<>in_<>- the sorrow. 
 
 The sore iKM'd. nnd ;<:iiilt of men. and l)n(h^ iu(* 
 
 Haste. t(^ easi' theii- load. I stai<l not onc(». 
 
 Althonu'li Iheii' cry was in my eai's. 
 
 Their doom hefoi-e my (\ves, I haste<l on, 
 
 Laying' u\) store of hitter memoi-ies 
 
 Vuv this last honi-: tlie last!— tlie hist 1— 
 
 ( ) I mnst I ,i>() so soon ? 
 
 ()ft(Mi when hidden to sonx' festi\'<' scene. 
 
 Ixe heen <>xcnse(l when statinii' mv i'e<i'ret. 
 
 lint all! i-eurets avail not hei-e. 
 
 Thon^h they are alwa\'s ni_i:h. to^-et her with the 
 
 ji,iiosts 
 ( )f wasted lionrs and op])oi-1 nint i(\s. 
 
hOVKS WLNdS. 
 
 :i9 
 
 There's iiol i\ st.'U- bill chides me willi its rnv', 
 
 liee;illill,«i," ns it does tile Word whicll pled^od 
 
 Thnt tliey who many turn to Ilim slndl shine 
 
 I-]\en as tliese for aye. 
 
 Yon say I cannot fail lo eider in. 
 
 Since He who kee])s the door has paid the price. 
 
 l)nt thiidv how sad to joui-ney there alone: 
 
 \o i-adiant shininii' ones to welcome me. 
 
 Claspinii' me closer that I hel])e(l them there. 
 
 'i'wo ])reci()ns hahes wei-e sent by (lod in lo\e 
 
 To woo my feet hack to the nari'ow way. 
 
 Ihit thon^-h 1 cherished them, "twashnt that th(>y 
 
 -Mi.U'ht u'l-ace the sc<'nes wlierc^ now 1 found deliifht: 
 
 And thon,uh th<'_\' wandei- by the crystal sea. 
 
 And tlieir hiest si)irits tind in Ilim all joy. 
 
 They were not tan,i2,ht the path to hea ven by me. 
 
 Von s)>eak of His foi-i>i\'eness: bnt His ii-i-ace 
 
 Is aihh'd woi-mwood to my brimminii' cnj): 
 
 If lb' had been a master hai-<l and stei-n. 
 
 Mv Li-rief wonld be the easier to l>ear: 
 
10 
 
 [K)VKs \yi\(;s. 
 
 But. Uiiowiiiiz- soiiM'tliiiiii' of His client 1)1<'S5 lore 
 My slumic is iiiiilt i])li(Ml a tlioiisniid fold: 
 1 nlmost f(vn', (so ])otf'nt are these donbts,) 
 That scarce tlie strain of triuni])h swelliuu' high 
 Could slitle with its blissful anodyne 
 Such bitter- ])ain, and teach me to foi-get 
 Whal might have been. 
 
 How keen the wound that UKMiioi-y inllicts. 
 .\s. forcing the i-eluctant soul along. 
 It still retraces all the road we"\'e trod, 
 \\'hile. dee]» within oui' being, sounds the knell 
 •'Thou nevei- nioi'e niay'st ])ass this way againi" 
 And now the li])s were (buub. — the s])ii-it lle<l; 
 And as the watcher gently and with tears 
 ('on)])ose(l tlu' form so fair foi- its last I'est, 
 She niui"niui-e(l. "Now 1 understand 
 Those words of di-ead signihcance. 
 "Saved as b\' tir<'!" 
 
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