LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. Shelf J^X* 3 - UNITED STATES OF AMERICA Xaue Deo aua £>eo BY (&tm%t ^tmjjU Author of " Make Thy Way Mine" and "In the Name of the King " %***y FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY *^?*^ PUBLISHERS Copyright, 1893, by FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY /l-sUo fflMtfflrtft Light's Pageantry, Complete in His Infinity, His World, Content in Thee, Might he not Trust ? . Transition, . The Wind-Songs, Our Little Words, . The Quiet Voice, Bring Gifts, No Fight No Victory, . The Bells of Eventide, My Riches, Our Place in Heaven, PAGE I 4 6 8 io 13 16 19 21 25 27 3i 33 35 iv CONTENTS. PAGE By and Bye, ..... 37 Keeping Pace, .... • 39 Ministry, ..... 4i Ministry of the Stars, • 43 Christ Victorious, .... 46 So Far Away, .... . 48 No One to be Glad with Them, 50 Just to be Still, .... . 52 Wait! 54 A Year in Heaven, . 56 In Memoriam, Mrs. Elizabeth C. Kinney, . 58 Our Jewels, ..... . 60 Faith's Probation, .... 62 Death's Ministry, .... . 64 The Harper's Christmas Eve, 66 My Fast, ..... . 69 A Prayer, ..... 7i Compensation, .... • 73 Loyalty, . .... 75 A Petition, ..... . 76 CONTENTS. V PAGE Sacrifice, .... 78 The Guiding Star of Christmas-Tide, . 80 Rest, ..... 81 The Mountains Praise Him, . 82 The Dearest of the Seven, 8 S Like Him, ..... . 87 LIGHT'S PAGEANTRY. If the fair sky were only blue, If we looked only through A changeless vista without cloud or stain Of gold or crimson, we would fain Look day by day and praise Beneficence. But light lays Us under deeper tribute when it dyes The rifted cloud as though to sacrifice, In untold glory of all crimson hues, With gold and opal, till they lose Themselves in some unspoken tone Of color, we may drink alone When light and cloud, in mystified embrace, Across infinitude in space, Fade as heaven's multitude of wings might fade-— LIGHT'S PAGEANTRY. A sea irradiate, fathomless. The sapphire's shade Of tender blue is such fair coloring one might gaze And never ask the haze Of mist athwart the far, bright air To lie in rifted splendor, or to wear Irradiate purple, toned away To violet-mists at hush of day. And yet, Bastion and battlement In rifted light, Ethereal forms, white, Radiant in all fairness cross the space of blue, Irradiate mists of lifted dew, Touched with the new day's splendor, or afar, Swept by noon's upper air, bar crossing bar, In still repose of light without a stain, Lie mists that seem to sing refrain From some far, purer world. Oh, light is fair; LIGHT'S PAGEANTRY. The pageants of the skies declare Munificence and Power enthroned Beyond this sphere. Zoned Often-times by clouds, wind-swept and dark, There are such bright, calm, changeless stars To mark night's way, Such beauty given the wings of day, Such lavishment of tenderness, Earth hears — Though drenched at heart with human tears — The breathing of the Infinite, if she but see God's blue, fair sky with all its Pageantry. COMPLETE IN HIS INFINITY. To be at rest ; To ask but this behest — Thy will be done — to know He rules, and stays The breath of storms, and lays No unweighed cross in any place, Be this my grace. To trust His love ; confide In him whatever may betide ; To know Life's destinies are in His hand, and so Beyond the touch of Chance or Fate — This were a sweet estate. To trust his will ; to know He leads, and so COMPLETE IN HIS INFINITY. Be blest in sweet content Though rocks be rent And light of day, Dies through the untried way — This were to be Complete in His infinity. HIS WORLD. To-day his world is there within the garden gate, He dreams of man's estate, Reaching above the wall to look beyond, and sees Another world. He counts upon his knees His treasures out ; And wraps a paper round, and ties a string about, Wondering what burning words sweet Fame Will write after his name When he shall step beyond the wall and tread Renown's high path. Day burneth red Outside the garden gate. He may not even wait HIS WORLD. To say good-bye to every pleasant thing He leaves behind, or sigh. Love tries to bring A gay, glad face to see him go, Waving his bundle to and fro, Stepping beyond his little world, half shy, half brave, Radiant with dreams, yet grave ; In haste, yet lingering by stealth ; Submissive and yet wilful in a breath ; So poor, so rich, so humble, yet so proud : To-morrow he may call aloud And look back eagerly, and wish ; but, past the gate He threads the maze of man's estate — His new, fair world — to do and dare ; The colors of his liege to wear. CONTENT IN THEE. If my faith, O God, in thee Waver, shrinking back to see Doubt and fear approach, shall I Unto reason lift my eye ? If I look and see thee not, Shudder as a child forgot, All bewildered shall I stand Reaching out for reason's hand ? If I cannot feel thee near, Wait, and hush my heart to hear, Shall I, sobbing out for rest Turn to reason's waiting breath ? Let me rather kneel and ask Strength to wait, myself to cast CONTENT IN THEE. On thy love, while tempting power Broods in darkness for an hour. So shall I forever be, O my God content in thee, Not so much as asking why Doubt and fear have ventured nigh : Not so much as thinking out Words that reason breathed about : Not cast down because I heard Every faithless, troubled word, But as sure as sure can be God is God. Mortality But in faith its peace can find, Though she standeth mute and blind. MIGHT HE NOT TRUST? A world hurled on through space Without a goal, no resting-place Through all the centuries ; a sphere Bearing its freight of souls without a fear Of losing, as it whirls, its place among the stars, Though seamed with scars And rent at heart. Omnipotence its orbit drew, holds it apart From spheres swept onward by his power — One little world amid the myriads — all earth's dower To rest in him ; suspended at his will Her destiny to fill. MIGHT HE NOT TRUST! u A soul breathed out midst space — Scarred Earth its resting-place^ Man shudders in unrest, With God's eternal majesty confessed By every star, is shook by doubt ; Fears looking out Through space, or downward to earth's heart, Rends truth apart To trample it to dust ; Is slow to trust The hand which flung out worlds, is vexed In unsolved problems, and perplexed At every step. If he, being kept By power omnipotent, while earth has swept Along its course ; if he, An atom of immensity, Suspended so in space, to-day is here, Lives now to shudder, weep, or fear, Might he not trust, Lean on the hand creative till the dust MIGHT HE NOT TRUST? Of time is swept away, And mists are lost in an eternal day ? His destiny to fill Man's soul must rest poised on his Maker's will. TRANSITION. Morning and evening shall not always dye Hills purple. Time drifteth by In all its tragic splendor toward its fate ; Race after race wait Listening if perchance there be The distant thunder through immensity Of Dissolution's tread. Ashes of millions dead, . Who laughed and wept, Spring into purple bloom as though there slept No heart beneath, and overhead the air is sweet. Across the riven rocks beat Tremors o£a world that looks for rest ; 14 TRANSITION. Joy claspeth to her breast, All unaware, The startled image of Despair, And sweetest things Fade while we look. Time brings A myriad new-born faces with each sun — A myriad new-born souls a race to run Amidst her gorgeous pageant neath the fair blue sky Where rhythms of sweet mysteries sigh, And melodies of unseen things Stir all the strings Of being. So century on century passeth to its end, And torrents beat and bend The brow of hills and write Legends on jaspers in the light Blent of all colors, but, as a doomed star, Time's mystic sphere shall feel the jar Of Dissolution's hand and fade TRANSITION. 15 By His command who made, Once in the past, a new, fair world, and cast it off in space, And life in some fair dwelling-place, Shall know and read at last The wondrous utterances of all the past. THE WIND-SONGS. The wind hath its songs. To the King The words it will sing Are of pomp and pageant and power; Eclate of an hour ; Chicanery's deal; Perchance the iron heel Of some turbulent throngs. To the seer, With the breath of its fear It foretells : It freezes the blood as the bells That toll for the dead in the night When faces are ghostly and white ; It cries as some soul of the lost — The dead who have died uncrossed. THE WIND-SONGS. 17 To the sad it weeps as it sings ; All minor the sweep of its strings ; Its words are of dreams that are past ; Of transport too fervent to last ; Of whispers the world never knew Of lips — were they tender and true ? To the glad there is joy in the song ; To the winds belong The wings of all beauty and light; The laughter of morning and night ; The rapture of birds on the wing ; The trumpet of blossoms of spring ; The song of the day at its birth ; The song of the dew-veiled earth ; The chords of the anthem of seas, And more, ah, far more than all these. But unto the heart that would pray, The wind-voices go not astray, But, catching the anthems of time, i8 THE WIND-SONGS. Mortality's rhythmical chime, They chant through the blue space of skies, Through forest-grown temples that rise Majestically up toward the sun, Hosannah to God, three in one. OUR LITTLE WORDS. We who would give our bread to feed Some sad and hungry one, And would do many a kindly deed From rise to set of sun, May well be careful of the words Our Christ-pledged lips repeat — Such little words may wound a heart ; May much of good defeat. Such little words it takes to cloud Some face we do not see, Some name we would not dare deface While yet on bended knee : Some act we have not weighed enough The half to understand. We would regret to know our words OUR LITTLE WORDS. Had stayed some Christian hand ; Had killed some little opening seed Sown simply for the Christ, Had made some saddened face more sad, Had in its growth sufficed To scourge some life — the words we spoke In such a quiet way ? Such little words in quiet nooks Can never, never stay. If we are Christ's and wish to hold His cross of light on high ; If we are kind and wish to wear Christ's robe some by and bye, We will in secret pray the Christ Our thoughtless lips to keep, That we may quench no light, and see The seed we joy to reap. THE QUIET VOICE. Only the silent heart Can hear Him speak : apart, The world's far voices barred without, Listening, it reacheth out And hears. He speaks so low If we would ever know The words He says, Or ever lift, in coming days, The allelujah of a soul redeemed, we will be still, Hear him and know His will. By steps He leads along the labyrinth of time; Who will may climb The rugged height and wind, THE QUIET VOICE, Unharmed, from maze to maze, to find The chosen way If he but stops to listen and to pray. Imperious Self demands Each moment for its own ; commands, And, sovereign in its rule, receives All homage. Self conceives, With every waking hour new aspirations and must speak : Insatiate Self would seek To hold the regal place in mind and heart, Nor stand apart That nobler visitant may find a place. Pomp, pride of life, the feverish race For name and power, The small, vain contests of the hour — The modes of ease and gain — Within the heart's deep chamber wake the vain Sad cries the conquered give, THE QUIET VOICE. 23 Or feverish echoes, born to live And echo on in souls triumphant — as the world would say. Self marshals well her cohorts through each day And still would sate Herself in honor, speaking loud and late, Drowning low voices which might speak through all life's span, Did not the soul redeemed, in mastery given to man At will, command the tyrant Self to silent place. God giveth grace But to the silent heart that hears Him speak : However weak It be, If it but listen in humility, It needs must hear, Trust, and be lifted from the plane of fear To higher levels. Reaching to find 24 THE QUIET VOICE. His will in all things, often blind, Uncertain, yet at peace, The listening heart will cease From vain regret, Put off the dust and fret Of darkened days, and know The sweet, true voice that speaketh out so low. BRING GIFTS. The year is dead. The winged host hath fled Which bore him on From dawn to dawn, The winged hours have fled. The year hath passed. His reign which could not last Is spent ; we bring Unto the King Belated gifts to cast. Dead lies the year. Before his frozen bier We bending plead. We intercede In vain, he cannot hear. The past is dead. 26 BRING GIFTS. His shroud is crimson, red With blood of souls : A requiem rolls, A requiem for the dead. A new King reigns. Forget the crimson stains ; An offering bring Unto the King Before his glory wanes. Bring gentle deeds. Bring pure, fair thoughts, the seeds Of all the true And noble, due The shrine where Virtue pleads. Bring deeds so pure : Resolves so strong,- so sure, That when the year Is dead and sear Thy offering may endure. NO FIGHT NO VICTORY. Who fights no battle wins no victory ; Who stoops before the mystery Of Custom, bending down To fit the doorways of renown Loses in stature. There are small doors Where little souls squeeze through by scores, Applauded too and followed up with zeal By those who drop some dream of virtue in the deal For place to follow through — Paying so much to custom, it is true, Sometimes with conscious sighs. To look in Virtue's eyes And catch her rendering of phrase and form 28 NO FIGHT NO VICTORY. Requires to stand on tip-toes looking, many times through storms. To look in Virtue's face Requires a higher standing-place Sometimes, than circumstance allows With all convenience, and knit-brows Unbend at lower levels with more ease and find A thousand tangles to unwind With but a touch. Prevailing mode Subscribes to such an easy code And follows right along With such an easy-going throng It needs but find Point for its wit, steeds mute and kind And all is well. To wrestle, aye, to fight With custom, corruption's blight In man, or self is life's prerogative. Imperative The marching-orders served the human soul : NO FIGHT NO VICTORY. 29 The drum-roll Of time's marching ways is heard along the lines ; Beyond shines The imperial ensign — that stained cross ! He suffers loss Who fails to step to time, or shirks the clash of arms, Nor hears alarums Rung through the maze of day. Who wins must fight and slay Minions of time, be they of high degree Or little sins, instinctively Held close and kept Hidden within the heart and wept Above — self-love, the pride of life The struggle and the strife For place and power ; The subtile birth of triumph's hour ; Pride in the spirit's conquest over sin, 30 NO FIGHT NO VICTORY. That ghastly shape that creepeth in When all is peace. Who fights no fight With self, nor conquers for the right, Himself is vanquished though he seems to be Free on the highway of mortality. THE BELLS OF EVENTIDE. The far-off bells, the vesper bells, Their Christ-songs sing to-night, As though to tell Christ loveth well — The Christ, our light. Across from purple hills afar The wavering Christ-bells toll Of life laid down, Of cross and crown, Of ransom's dole. The heart of Nature standeth still ; No bird-wing speedeth on ; Now far, now nigh, There drifteth by The Christ-bell's song. 32 THE BELLS OF EVENTIDE. Across the hush of eventide The Christ-songs come and go, As though to cry, Christ passeth by, He stoopeth low. As chant the bells of eventide, Our Christ, we lift to Thee Our thoughts of praise — Forgive past days ; Our ransom be. MY RICHES. A little mound beneath the snow, A portrait on the wall ; A memory of hopes that were — These are not all. The music of sweet laughter hushed ; The music of a song : A dream of life which now is dead, To me belong. The touch of little clinging hands ; The touch of lips I knew, Whatever came, whatever went, Were mine, and true ; The blue of blue, fair, wondering eyes ; The gold of twined gold hair Are mine, though all the Past is past — I riches bear. 34 MY RICHES. My cross and I ? we will not stay Transfixed upon the way ; We go, assured love's joy is worth The price we pay. The Unseen somewhere, somewhere holds The music and the light, The waiting hands our own shall hold Beyond time's night. OUR PLACE IN HEAVEN. If I to-day were free ; If you with me Should suddenly be blind And, leaving time behind And mortal vesture, should perceive, Upon returning sight Celestial forms, and know earth's evening- time and night Were lost in one eternal day ; If we could choose our way Amidst celestial beings, and commune at will Just where we would, to fill Our spirits with content, Would we not, bent 36 OUR PLACE IN HE A VEN. On equal errand, midst heaven's company of angels, seek Spirits akin to ours, where we could speak Familiar language, not more base or high ? If we, by growth, in some long by and bye, Might reach the heights of nobler spirits, and be blessed In such communion, such behest Doubtless must be Given along probation lines of God's eternity, We are just what we are, no more, no less. In chrysalis of flesh The inner life develops year by year By growth self-chosen. Pure and clear The spirit in its veil, or stained, or dark ; We cast aside the veil, but, mark, We are ourselves, though purified Forgiven through the Crucified, We could but be Ourselves amidst heaven's minstrelsy. BY AND BYE. The sky is gray, a leaden hue, Without a single thought of blue ; The trees, but one short month ago A-flood in gorgeous coloring, show But cold, bare shaft with here and there A patch of brown across the air. The scurrying winds in eddies whirl The quivering leaves in many a swirl, And bend the swathes of brown-white grass To homage, as they rudely pass And send a score of birds adrift. The brook is cold and does not lift Its sweet, low song, but, by and bye, The mist of tears will leave the sky ; The mystery of love will stay 38 BY AND BYE. The bitter breath of yesterday — Will shrive the frozen heart. Again The brook shall sing its sweet refrain Among the sedges bright with dew, And sweet wild blooms shall flood anew The wood-heart breaking from its dream To catch the morning's misty gleam To know the time of sleep is past, That anguish may not always last, That blossom-fragrance drifts anew Through maze of light and shades of hew, That skies, to-day a-mist in tears, May yet be blue in coming years. KEEPING PACE. If the child I tried to keep, He who early fell asleep — Leaving me with empty hands- Should return to speak with me, He who all my heart could see, Would he sad or joyous be — Sweet spirit from far lands ? Would he care — this child of mine, Purified by life divine — Close to press as when of old He could never read, as now, Spirit-sin and spirit-vow — Would he care to meet me now — Would his love grow cold ? Soul to soul at last unveiled — Have I conquered, have I failed ; 40 KEEPING PACE. How have he and I kept pace? Would he nestle to my side — Soul of love intensified, He, my spirit glorified, Might I dare to hope such grace ? This my prayer, as years go by, Holy Spirit purify, Teach me, that I may not be So beneath that child who slept Once upon my breast, or wept — Child the angels since have kept — That his love be less for me. MINISTRY. Who chooses from his world some soul to pray for keeps An open way for wings of angels, reaps If but in stepping heavenward himself, and lays A golden cord across from soul to soul. Who stays His thought on one frail, human craft, and pleads, Aye, without faltering, intercedes High Heaven to bring it into port with sails all set, Will not so far forget The worth of an immortal drifting on life's sea That he will lose a sense of its infirmity, 42 MINISTRY. But lend a hand to steer it where it would, Toward some safe harborage. Barks have withstood Wild seas through some prevailing hand ; Mortality, beaten on time's strand, Cries, oftentimes above the roar of seas, but feels no grasp, Only the breakers' mocking clasp, Knowing no pity for the moan Heard by the sea's cold heart alone. Who chooses, from his world, one soul and prays, Unfalteringly, though march of days Brings in no sign of benediction, yet may see, When least he dream, evangel of immortality, Written in light of cross and crown, Of him for whom he boweth down. MINISTRY OF THE STARS. If quite alone Across ethereal space, unmeasured, shone One star, In mystery of splendor, from its far, fair throne; If zone on zone Of light From distant worlds, to-night, Should fade, as sparks which glow and die And only one fair star should glorify Our evening sky, It were enough to startle man to gaze, Past all terrestrial haze, On to Omnipotence, and see The Infinite in majesty 44 MINISTRY OF THE STARS. Of distance and of light Across the fathomless abyss of night, And bid him kneel in adoration none would stay Through life's brief day. But, when unnumbered worlds lie strown Like burning dust across night's zone, And light a century old But reaches man to-night from its far suns ; when told By burning spheres — Burning through countless years — Far wandering fires, through space Following their orbit-race, That God is God, that light Es but a consequence of His creative thought, and night The witness of His majesty, unknown Save through the suns which stud night's zone, It were enough man's dreamy sleep to break, MINISTRY OF THE STARS. 45 But more — time's harmonies, through all her sphere, to wake, That anthems of creative majesty might be Borne on from earth through all immensity, That midst the legions God hath bid rejoice There be no silent voice. CHRIST VICTORIOUS. Praise him ! — Christ victorious, Risen and glorious, Christ the King ; Cast your gifts before him ; Let all the world adore him — Their tribute bring ! Praise him ! — Christ the living, Who died in giving Life to thee — Died, and yet hath risen Victorious from death's prison, Our King to be. Praise him ! — Christ the royal, Loving and loyal, Who yet lives, CHRIST VICTORIOUS. 47 Pitying in his kindness The anguish of man's blindness ; In love forgives. Praise him ! — Christ who keepeth, Above a race which weepeth, Watch always, For He died for them — Oh, crown him with the diadem Of endless praise. SO FAR AWAY. So far away, my Christ, so far, Yet I would fain go back : for me a scar Is on each hand held out — to-day I turn upon the way. So far away, my Christ, so far ; I would not lose my way amidst the jar Of time's strange voices, but would be Closer, my Christ, to thee. So far away, my Christ, yet near — When I look back, and stand, the voice I hear Is low and sweet, and it is thine — The name it speaks is mine. So far away, my Christ, and yet I turn and will go back. No sun shall set SO FAR AWAY. 49 Again and find me lost to thee — I would thy loved face see. So far away my Christ, so far — I could not go without my leading-star Through all my journey here. Be mine, My Christ, for I am thine. NO ONE TO BE GLAD WITH THEM. No one to be glad with them Though the year Bring sweet rain and ripened grain, Some sweet cadence of refrain They may hear. No one to be sad with them, Though they go Quite in sight, by day and night, Bowed by burdens never light, Bending low. No one to be really theirs, Always true, Always near and glad to hear NO ONE TO BE GLAD WITH THEM. 51 All they hope and all they fear, All they do. No one to be glad, or-sad, For their sake — Look and see who they be, Near to you and near to me, Record make. Maybe we might learn to spare From each sun, Time to hear of hope or fear, Time to bend down very near Just to one. JUST TO BE STILL. Just to be still, though tempest break ; To know He never would forsake The heart He made to be His own ; To know He is not King alone, But father, infinite in care Of every waif that breathes the air — If this be mine how light the weight I bear through changing time's estate. Just to be joyous in to-day ; To know time's floods which sweep away The gold, and precious things of life, With desolation's breathings rife, Can never touch the arms I hold, Around my gems more dear than gold, JUST TO BE STILL. 53 Unless He wills — if this I know Fearless my footsteps come and go. Just to be still and murmur not ; To know He never yet forgot The child He led ; to-morrow's care To lay in Him, my guide, to bear ; To see the sunlight of to-day Nor sigh that it may fade away — If this my part my days shall be Foretastes of Immortality. WAIT! Oh, land of fading dreams, Of passing pageant, vanishing, fair beams That will not stay ; Oh, land of night and day, Of life and death, Of rapture and of anguish at a breath, Of flame, and frost, and rust, Of flowers that turn to dust, Of purity and stain, Of sunshine and cold rain, Of laughter, and of cries To rend the far infinity of skies, Fulfil your part ; Question not, beating so close the heart Of God's tried love, Be sure there are clear reasons though above Thy sight, and He perceives WAIT. 55 The whys and wherefores. Reason deceives, For can it read One page which God hath sealed? It is decreed That life shall cast itself upon God's breast and wait. There is no chance or fate For faith which is content In each event Of life to say With reverent trust, " I know the day Of my maturity shall come when I shall see The reason for Love's pathway traced through time for me." A YEAR IN HEAVEN. A year in heaven?— we standing on the shore Hear evermore The last good-bye, And reach to listen, as the fair days die Each in its turn, and we behold But visions of heaven's fretted gold, And hear No vesper-music of the skies save in the ear Of dreams which may be given Perchance before the sweet maturity of heaven. A year ? And we so close ; hand holding hand when Death stooped near, And he could smile across, and go, While we but know A YEAR IN HE A VEN. 57 Time's veil was rent, and could not see The spirit's birth to ecstasy. A year in heaven ? — unstained ; Untouched by wound or woe ; unreined Amidst the free ; Glad in the gladness of immensity ; At home With angels at the Throne Of Deity, or through the realms of light, Yet ours, the one we would have kept that far off night A year ago, when he and I Parted until the by and bye. This cross of mine, though stained With tears blood-red, rained On it through the year A cross of glory doth appear. IN MEMORIAM, MRS. ELIZABETH C. KINNEY. Victory ! the crown ! Earth's cross laid down : Transition into light : A step, beyond the border-land of night, Into the fair unseen : a breath Of exultation, given when Death But touched her and she knew Life's first ecstatic thrill : a new, Sweet joy: a spirit free Before the opening vistas of infinity — Weep not above the ashes of the past, In triumph she hath cast The veil aside, In ravishment of joy is satisfied. IN MEMORIAM. 59 Lay lilies on her breast, without a stain Of tears. Refrain Of woe along the vanished years Time's harmonies disturbed ; Fear's Forms of woe moan ever mid the chime Of earth's sweet voices ; fair, sad Time Hath but joy's promises that look away Toward boundaries of the unseen day. Weep not, but keep the vision of a spirit chaste In all poetic loveliness, its uneffaced, Fair presence keeps Beside our pathway till we fall asleep, As some ethereal flower whose tender face Might mind us of its dwelling-place. OUR JEWELS. Who hath not some low grave Whence come sweet voices, as a stave Of music known and lost ; who waiteth not To see above the snow or grass-bound spot, However far away, Some face and form that memory biddeth stay; Who hath not some low rood of sacred earth to keep : No tears to weep Upon the empty air, hath not yet come Quite near enough toward the setting sun To know the ecstasy of glancing in, Where sweet, lost faces, past the veil of sin, Wait to bring heaven near if we but stay To look across by night or day. OUR JEWELS. 61 Who owns a treasure on the unseen shore Is rich owning no more For time is brief. Eternity comes near And breathes across that we may hear If we have but a grave, Low down where simple grasses wave ; Some angel face, celestial, bright — A living dream of light. FAITH'S PROBATION. What if the winds beat ? The sleety winding-sheet Of a dead day be rained upon by tears ? If, held against the dead, cold years, The heart, empassioned presses out its life and cries To the spent embers of far Time to rise And glow again ? by faith we turn and see The altar-fires throughout immensity ; The symbols of a love transcending Time's ; The intervals of infinity beyond the chimes Of earth's sad voices, and we know There is a reason for the woe Of God's creation, beneficent and wise, Though Life gropes blindly on from sacri- fice, to sacrifice, DBA TH'S MINIS TR Y. 63 Past ashes of fair things, which were, yet are not, nor may be. Time solves no problem of mortality. By faith alone We see Love's radiance midst the Throne. DEATH'S MINISTRY. Is not death an angel shod with light ? Why fear ? Out from the bright Fair world, and upper Throne His wings have come. Alone No soul ventures toward Paradise its first free flight But with the waiting angel. Light Bears its subtile radiance for such eyes First opened by Death's kiss to sacrifice Of praise — light of tone And coloring the spirit-eye alone Discovers — mortality too finite, incomplete, The Infinite to meet In his sublimest thought of beauty's form. Why fear ? DEA TWS MINISTR K 65 Now the chained soul is here. A moment hence, The recompense Of time's probation bides one parting breath — The ministrying touch of Death — And life's enshadowed day Breaks to new morning of ecstatic day. Why fear Who wakens at Death's kiss may hear Far sweeter harmonies, perchance, than time Knows in all minstrelsies, sublime Beyond mortality's gross ear — Music imprisoned souls reach out to hear But catch not till, supreme, Death stirs mortality's last dream. THE HARPER'S CHRISTMAS EVE. Strange low notes of deep despair Drifting on the Christmas air ; Little fingers wan and thin Lingering from string to string ! Little features haggard, sharp, Fondly bent above a harp — Bent till black locks, twining, touch The sobbing strings he loved so much. Scant the tunic that he wears, Garnished round with patch and tears ; Threadbare here and tattered there — Scanty shield for Christmas wear. How the thin lips close and part ; Tatters throb above the heart ! Listless rest the half-closed eyes, THE HARPER'S CHRISTMAS EVE, 67 Turning now to where the skies Flooded lie in silver light, Turning now to where the night Hides in shadows deep and dark — Shadows deep and cold and dark — Dreaming in the silvery light — Dreaming in the Christmas night ; Fitful smiles along the face — Smiles that lights and shadows chase — What can be the Harper's dreams, Smiling in the silver beams ? He hath 'neath the palm-tree slept, He hath breathed where fragrance swept ; Wreathed about his harp with flowers, Laughed amidst the purple bowers ; Lo, he sees the cross afar — Southern cross — shine star by star ; Hears the whir of crimsoned bird, Trembling of the leaves hath heard ; 68 THE HARPER'S CHRISTMAS EVE. Hears the echoes fall and rise- Music of his own fair skies. Hushed the murmuring of strings ; Stark and cold the hand that clings Fondly to them yet ; the face, Bowed upon its resting-place. Silent with the smile still there — Peace it seldom used to wear — Clustering locks that ever fell Round the strings he loved so well. Dreams are past ; the frozen heart Throbs no longer — who shall part The fingers clasped, the features sharp, The Harper from his silent harp. MY FAST. If I but put my sins aside And turn away ; am satisfied For Him alone To give the gift which closest shone Upon my heart, I best deny Myself, and Jesus glorify. If I look close to find the sin Which to my heart hath entered in — And though it be Bound close as close can be to me — Rend it quickly from its place, By help of Him who giveth grace, Oh, surely thus I best deny Myself, and Jesus glorify. 70 MY FAST. If I give up my will and go But steps where He the way may show ; However hard ! If I my fondest wish discard Before the test of right, and try My every dream to purify, I best, within my little way Keep fast for Christ on holy day. A PRAYER. Sweet Spirit of peace, 'midst the voices which chime The music of life ; midst the rhythms of time Let me lose not thy voice ; 'midst the unrest of life, Midst the press, the pursuit, the yearning, the strife, Bend close, that I hear wherever I be, Thy sweet voice of peace ever whispering to me. Whatever the cross, or whatever the crown, If it lighten the heart, or boweth it down, May the calm of Thy voice be forever my own, Though heart beat to heart, or beateth alone. Serene may I stand wherever I be, Thy sweet voice of peace ever whispering tome. 72 A PRAYER. Though discords of time their hard measures repeat, My idols lie trampled to dust at my feet ; Or if light glows my world as beauty's fair beam, Illuming the way as the light of a dream. Keep me close and serene wherever I be ; That thy sweet voice of peace ever whisper to me. COMPENSATION. He will all loss replace ; "With added grace, Lay in the empty hand some gift. No soul is left to drift Unblessed upon time's sea. The God who fills immensity Himself will give, And make it joy to live Though He may take All else away for love's own sake. He knows each need Each wavering step, each deed Of light or darkness, and can weigh Reasons, results, and lay Love's tribute where he would, without mistake. 74 COMPENSATION, Though idols break And crumble into dust ; Though lips are mute in woe, we trust The Infinite, in love, to fill, The rifted heart, complete His perfect will. LOYALTY. If I know He leadeth me, Need I ask the path to see ; Need I tremble by the way Lest I stumble ? Day by day Shall I fear each step I take ; Shall I fear some storm may break ; Shall I fear Disaster's hand, Dread some plan which I have planned May be broken ere I see Fruit of full maturity ? Rather may I freely go Blindly on my way, and know Since His will alone is mine, Since I trust a hand divine, I am sure whate're may be, Cross or crown, in store for me, Not a step by faith I take Could be given by mistake. A PETITION. Keep me lowly, Christ, my King ; Putting self aside, May I simply ever be Thine in glad humility — Vanquished all my pride. Keep me humble, Christ, my Lord, Though the world goes wrong, May I see I need but try Keep myself in passing by All the restless throng. May I gently weigh the guilt Seen in human kind, Knowing were it not for Thee A PETITION. 77 I more guilty far might be — Seek my faults to find. Keep me patient, Christ, my strength ; 'Midst the frets of time May I simply quiet be, Knowing in humility, I've no strength but Thine. SACRIFICE. Shall I offer to my God Easy sacrifice ? Cover cautiously within Any cherished thought of sin, Dearest of device ? Shall I lay aside a crown Set with many a flame — Little sins, the world would say, Are enough to cast away Just in Jesus , name. Shall I offer to my God But a chosen part Of the world I find within ? Clasp some dearest, closest sin Nearer to my heart ? SACRIFICE. 79 Rather let the soul redeemed Bid every idol fall, Rending quickly from its place Every sin, whate're its grace, Give itself — its all. THE GUIDING STAR OF CHRISTMAS TIDE. Night was deep. On Bethlehem's plain Travelled weary feet. In vain Wise men of the East had sought Messiah's infant face, and brought Gifts to cast before him. Now, Sadness weighed on every brow. They would homeward go, but first By the well-side slake their thirst. Lo, upon the waters deep, Radiant, in its dreamless sleep, They beheld a star of light — Nameless midst the hosts of night — Deep reflected. Overhead Deeper radiance was shed And behold, the star above — Guiding-star for human love — Moved to guide to love complete — The weary to Messiah's feet. REST. Rest ? It is simply trust in Him who knovv- eth best ; Leaving to-morrow in His hands, and all the rest Of time, without a shudder, or a dread Of anguish on ahead. It is the poising of a soul on Him Who, from the dim Far past, hath been the infinite, the stable one, Praying His will be clone ; Leaning on Him, in trust which knows no fear, As a child leans who does not hear The breath of the far storm ; to be At peace in His infinity. THE MOUNTAINS BRAISE HIM. The low hills magnify His name From verdant slopes, and hills aflame In gorgeous dyes, On altars of sweet sacrifice, Mid tangled paths where low flowers bloom and fade, And moss-wreaths hide amid the shade Of changeful forests, breathes one voice of praise To Him whose infinite, creative thought lifted the haze Of chaos to breathe life Across the dark abyss, and from the strife Of elements, bid hills to rise, Nature to spread her altar-fires of sacrifice. No footpath of the plain but hath its voice, nor yet The majesty of mountain-forms, a-fret THE MOUNTAINS PRAISE HIM. 83 With jaspers, throned in strength, ribbed to defy The march of centuries. The mountain crags descry The far-off worlds, beyond the vapory vail ; Triumphant, rise beyond the trail Of man, and robed in cloud, Hold up their mighty arms in benediction vowed To earth beneath. Each fair, frail sheath Of flow r er-form drinks, to-day Of food once stored away In chalices of rock, hewn by the tempest's blast The clash of elements, the glaciers grinding past, The crash of mountain pinnacles that thunder- ing, fall 84 THE MOUNTAINS PRAISE HIM. From gorge to gorge. Nature drinketh well From marble cisterns, rent and scarred By avalanche and storm — barred Close their stores which only Time gives out, As daily food fair Earth could not exist with- out. The hills, Radiant in rainbow rills, Breathed on by tenderest flowers, Throughout the hours Of all times' day, From forest depths, to slopes that fade away In lowlier plains; from sculptured granite's crest One anthem, unrepressed Through march of days, Breathes, through ministry of mountain forms, their Maker's praise. THE DEAREST OF THE SEVEN. The rumble of the mill is hushed, The moss-grown wheel at rest ; — Its mossy buckets, old and gray, Half-filled but idly drips to-day ; It is the Sabbath holiday — Of all the seven the best. The waters of the mill-race sleep ; Across, in mystic sheen, Reflected lies each silent hill, The white blooms bent their cups to fill, The banks a-light with daffodil, The fair, far cloud between. The harrow stands against the fence ; Across the furrow lies 86 THE DEAREST OF THE SEVEN. The quiet plow and by the brook The team hath found a favorite nook — So still the scene one need but look To join in sacrifice. Across the air there comes no whir Of labor ; looms are stilled ; The far-off marts of toil give out No sound ; no tired ones turn about To wish the sunbeams faded out, Night's promised rest fulfilled. Oh, day of rest, what sweeter dream Could Love have ever given Than this of rest for laboring bands, Of quiet for the weary hands, Of peace — life's hard and broken strands Need one such day in seven LIKE HIM. To be like Him ; to keep Unspotted from the world ; to reap But where He leads ; to think, To dream, to hope as one who would but drink Of purity and grow More like the Christ ; to go Through time's sweet labyrinths, pure, and brave, and true ; To stand sin's tests ; to dare, to do For Him, though all the price Be stained in dye of sacrifice, This were to be Sustained by His infinity, And given A foretaste of the ecstacy of heaven. UNIFORM IN STYLE AND PRICE, IN FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY'S "INTERNATIONAL SERIES" OF POETS, WELL PRINTED AND DAINTILY BOUND, ARE : ACADIAN LEGENDS AND LYRICS, by A.W. Eaton. BETWEEN TIMES, by Walter Learned. CAP AND BELLS, by S. M. Peck. CHARLOTTE BRONTE^S POEMS. THE CHRISTIAN YEAR, by John Keble. CHARLES DICKENS' POEMS. LAUS DEO, by George Klingle. LONDON LYRICS, by Frederick Locker. LONDON RHYMES, by Frederick Locker. LYRA ELEGANTARIUM. Locker. MAKE THY WAY MINE, by George Klingle. MADRIGALS AND CATCHES, by F. D. Sherman. IN THE NAME OF THE KING,^ George Klingle. OLD AND NEW WORLD LYRICS, by Clinton Scollard. RELIGIOUS POEMS, by 3Ihs C E. Alexander. RINGS AND LOVE-KNOTS, by S. M. Peck. SONGS FROM BERANGER, by C. L. Belts. SONGS OF TOIL, by Carmen Sylva. POEMS OF SIR JOHN SUCKLING. SYLVAN LYRICS, by W. H. Hayne. THISTLE-DRIFT, by J. V. Cheney. WOOD BLOOMS, by J. V. Cheney. u 01d Madrid " binding', blue cloth, illuminated side, gilt top, %i.oo Orchid binding, gilt top, i.oo Half calf, gilt tops, 2.00 Limp calf, led-under-gold edges, in a box, . 2.50 Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide Treatment Date: Sept. 2009 PreservationTechnologies A ttPtflD LEAPPR IN COLLECTIONS PRESERVATION 111 Thomson Park Drive Cranberry Township, PA 15066 (724)779-2111