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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 
 
 Chap. :_. Copyright No. 
 
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 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 
 
R. 0. SMITH. 
 
A RIFT IN THE CLOUDS 
 and OTHER POEMS. 
 
 By ROBERT OUSLEY SMITH. 
 
 Nashville, Tenn.: Dallas, Tex.: 
 
 Publishing House of the M. E. Church, South. 
 
 Barbee »n: Smith, Agents. 
 
 1899. 
 
 \ 
 
80554 
 
 Library of Congress 
 
 Two Copies Received 
 NOV 26 1900 
 
 Copyright entry 
 
 SECOND COPY 
 
 Oe<iv«red to 
 
 ORDER DIVISION 
 DEC 15l9ni] 
 
 
 2'\ 
 
 ?^1 
 
 COPYKIGHT, 1S99, 
 15 V 
 
 Bakbee & Smith, Agents. 
 
AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED 
 
 TO 
 
 MY FATHER, WIFE, AND DAUGHTER. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 I SEND abroad these children of my fancy, claiming 
 for them neither beauty nor perfection, but hoping for 
 most of them a career of usefulness in comforting de- 
 spairing hearts and brightening some lives that are 
 "dark and dreary." For any good that they may ac- 
 complish, may the praise be to Him " whose I am and 
 whom I serve." Robert Ousley Smith. 
 
 Winterville, Ga., February lo, 1899. 
 
 (4) 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 A Rift in the Clouds 9 
 
 The Praise Bird 1 1 
 
 At Eventide " 
 
 Papa's Last Kiss 12 
 
 Lines to ^4 
 
 Judge Not 15 
 
 A Prayer ^5 
 
 Lights and Shadows 16 
 
 Where Have They Gone? 16 
 
 Beckoning Hands ^7 
 
 What Can I Do? iS 
 
 Trust 19 
 
 Low at Thy Feet 20 
 
 If I May Walk with Thee .' 21 
 
 In Memoriam , 22 
 
 Waiting for the Ship 23 
 
 I Will Not Murmur , H 
 
 To J. A. S 25 
 
 Prayer ^5 
 
 Mother Is Only Asleep 26 
 
 Paradise ^' 
 
 My Papa Does That Way 28 
 
 Strike Down the " Old Man " 29 
 
 Sam P. Jones 3^ 
 
 An Aimless Life 3^ 
 
 Go Back to Your Dive 3^ 
 
 Our Little Friend, Nellie May Redding 32 
 
6 A RIFT IN THE CLOUDS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 All Hail ! 32 
 
 That Beautiful I land 33 
 
 Christian Union 34 
 
 He Is Not Dead 35 
 
 The Comforter 36 
 
 What Makes You Strapped ? 36 
 
 Brunswick 37 
 
 To 38 
 
 Lines to Annie 38 
 
 Altogether 39 
 
 Lines to 40 
 
 A Sigh for Rest 41 
 
 Memory 42 
 
 In Christ ^ 43 
 
 Walking bj Faith 43 
 
 In Memory of Miss Carrie DuPree 44 
 
 Almost Home 45 
 
 Victory 46 
 
 Rest Awhile 47 
 
 Dot's Letter to Grandpa 47 
 
 Beautiful Days 48 
 
 A Thanksgiving Hymn 49 
 
 Preservation 49 
 
 A Little While 50 
 
 Since I Love You, and You Love Me 51 
 
 " We Are the Clay, and Thou Our Potter " 52 
 
 Guidance 53 
 
 O God, Our Never-Changing Friend 54 
 
 My Mama's Way ; or, A Child's Logic 55 
 
 Lines Written in an Album 56 
 
 To — 56 
 
 To My Beloved 56 
 
 Thy Record 57 
 
CONTENTS. 7 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Room for Christ and Me 5^ 
 
 Sometime, Somewhere 59 
 
 I'm Walking in Your Tracks, Papa 6o 
 
 My Little Evening Prayer ^^^ 
 
 Then and Now.. , ' 
 
 Assurance of Salvation 3 
 
 Consecration ^ 
 
 The Lord Is My Light ^4 
 
 A Christmas Carol ^5 
 
 Who's to Blame? ^^ 
 
 Lift Me Over ^7 
 
 Nellie ^^ 
 
 The Child and the Daisy ^ 
 
 Be Still, My Soul 7°' 
 
 A Memory ' ' 
 
 The Transplanted Flower 7^ 
 
 " None Can Help Me but My Saviour " 7^ 
 
 Those Eyes of Thine 73 
 
 The Wolf at the Door 73 
 
 '« My Pi-esence Shall Go with Thee 74 
 
 Resting 75 
 
 Blessed Is the Nation Whose God Is the Lord 76. 
 
 Look Up 76 
 
 The Mocking Bird 77 
 
 The News 7 
 
 At Set of Sun ^* 
 
 Little Empty Shoes My Baby Used to Wear 81 
 
 To a Brother Beloved ^^ 
 
 Fate 85 
 
 The Ringlet ^ 
 
 O Take Me In ^^ 
 
 Cannot I Trust? ^7 
 
 88 
 Picking Cherries 
 
8 A RIFT IN THE CLOUDS. 
 
 PAGfi 
 
 Compensation 89 
 
 The Strange Visitor 90 
 
 Open the Windows 90 
 
 To One in Bereavement 91 
 
 The Parting Kiss 92 
 
 In Memory of Little Winter 92 
 
 God Is for Me 93 
 
 To Nellie Smith on the Second Anniversary of Her 
 
 Birthday , . . . . 94 
 
 Keep Not Your Flowers 95 
 
 My Place 95 
 
 To Mrs. McL., a Bride 99 
 
 Heart Yearnings 97 
 
 Joy in My Saviour 97 
 
 Beautiful Years 98 
 
 Baby's Only Sweetly Sleeping 99 
 
 " My Sweet Mother Won't Cry Any More " too 
 
 Precious the Promises roi 
 
 Consecration , to2 
 
 Keep Me, I^ord 103 
 
 Out From — Into 104 
 
 Do Not Faint, Dear Heart 105 
 
 Just to Follow Jesus 105 
 
 Sympathy 106 
 
 Wondrous Grace I07 
 
 The Soul's Cry 107 
 
 Slipping Away 108 
 
 Is It Worth While? 109 
 
 Were It Not Best for Thee no 
 
A RIFT IN THE CLOUDS, 
 
 Thei'e'^s a rift in the clouds that have darkened my skies ^ 
 The gloom that was o^er me has now rolled away ^ 
 
 On pinions of faith doth my glad soul arise^ 
 And gladly I welcome this glorious day! 
 
 Now loosed from its fetters my spirit doth sing 
 That Thou^ my Redeemer^ my soul dost now save^ 
 
 Tm captive no more^ but fnade free by my King^ 
 
 What sting now hath death ? tvhat victory the grave P 
 
 No longer o''er shaded by darkness and gloom 
 My soul is all gladness^ my heart is all love; 
 
 Thy smile^ O my Saviour^ now gilds the dark to7nb ; 
 There ^s glory beneath me^ around^ and above ! 
 
 O praise be forever to Thee^ blessed Lord! 
 
 My bonds thou hast broken^ my soul hast set free! 
 The Joy of my heart from the fount of Thy word 
 
 In radia?zt streains floweth upward to Thee! 
 
 (9) 
 
THE PRAISE BIRD. 
 
 I HAVE a bird, 'tis iu my heart, 
 And sweetly carols night and day. 
 And by its thrilling notes of cheer 
 
 This bird makes gladness all my way 
 Singing, singing night and day, 
 Joyous making all my way. 
 
 When I am weary or oppressed 
 Beneath a heavy load of care. 
 This praise bird sings within my breast 
 Of heav'nly mansions bright and fair- 
 Singing, singing night and day. 
 Joyous making all my way. 
 
 Sing on ! sing on, thou happy bird. 
 
 Thy lofty strains of hope and peace ! 
 Sing high above the raging storm, 
 Nor ever for a moment cease — 
 Singing, singing night and day. 
 Joyous making all my way. 
 
 May 31, i8q8. 
 
 AT EVENTIDE. 
 
 Inscribed to My Friend Mr. J. Mizell, King's Ferry, Fla. 
 
 NEATH ancient hills the day king slips. 
 While with his glowing finger tips 
 He deftly flecks the western skies 
 With many variegated dyes ; 
 
 (11) 
 
12 A lUFT IN THE CLOUDS. 
 
 But lo ! for he hath scarcely gone 
 
 Ere night tide softly hastens on, 
 
 And Luna, with bewitching grace. 
 
 In softest azure hides her face, 
 
 Until with all her brilliant train 
 
 She drives athwart the nightly jDlain. 
 
 But now behold the peep of dawn ! 
 
 The stars have faded one by one. 
 
 When from the ether folds of blue 
 
 Orion comes again in view ; 
 
 His crimson banners are unfurled, 
 
 And wave his glories to the world. 
 
 Thus may it prove, my friend, with thee 
 
 At eventide. O may there be 
 
 A light that Memory shall throw 
 
 AthVart our path, that we may know 
 
 From couch of death thy soul doth rise 
 
 To shine again in Paradise, 
 
 And from her height fling back thy rays 
 
 To gild the swiftly rolling days. 
 
 December 20, i8qj. 
 
 PAPA'S LAST KISS. 
 
 "A little child shall lead them." 
 Dedicated to Charles N. Ckittenton, Evangelist. 
 
 SO beautiful was she and fair ! 
 The sunbeams nestled in her hair. 
 And soft and cloudless deep blue skies 
 Were mirrored in my darling's eyes. 
 
 O how I loved my little tot ! 
 
 'Till more than once I quite forgot 
 
 That even one so blithe as she 
 
 Death soon could bear away from me. 
 
PAPA'S LAST KISS. ^S 
 
 But thus it was. The rose of health 
 Began to fade as if by stealth, 
 And on her sweet and dimpled face 
 A lily took the rose's place. 
 
 At last, one night I'll ne'er forget— 
 O God, its shadow lingers yet — 
 A messenger, with silent tread. 
 Crept to my tiny darling's bed. 
 
 " Sweet child, come now and go with me," 
 In tender accents whispered he ; 
 A smile crept o'er her fair young face. 
 And with such innocence and grace : 
 
 " Papa," she said, " kiss me good-by. 
 Quick, papa ! quick ! before I die ; 
 x\nd please don't cry, sweet papa dear ; 
 I'm going home— O meet me there ! " 
 
 The blinding tears rolled down my cheek, 
 I felt the words I could nob speak ; 
 My lamb I pillowed on my breast. 
 And to my heart my darling pressed. 
 
 The kiss she craved was quickly giv'n. 
 "Good-by," I sobbed, "we'll meet in heav'n. 
 A smile lit up her face again, 
 A stranger now she seemed to pain. 
 
 Methinks the angels hovered nigh 
 To waft her soul beyond the sky ; 
 A gasp, a sigh, my bird had flown. 
 And I was in the world alone. 
 
14 A RIFT IN THE CLOUDS. 
 
 But that sweet promise that I gave 
 
 I hold as sacred as her grave. 
 
 The little lifeless form I laid 
 
 On snowy cot, then knelt and prayed : 
 
 " My God, I come to thee to-night. 
 And plead for just one ray of light ; 
 
 Father, send me pardon here, 
 That I may meet my darling there ! " 
 
 A light from heav'n came flashing down. 
 
 By faith I saw my shining crown, 
 
 My Father's arms were round me thrown, 
 
 1 knew I was no more alone. 
 
 How true the weak alone are strong. 
 The tugboat tows the ship along ; 
 Thus a dear child whom God hath giv'n 
 May lead her father home to heav'n. 
 
 I8q8. 
 
 LINES TO 
 
 ALWAYS be merry, never be sad ; 
 Always good-natured, never get mad ; 
 Always be gentle, cheery, and witty ; 
 Always be musical, kind, and pretty ; 
 Always be married, never stay single ; 
 Always have plenty of money to jingle ; 
 Always be pure as the starlight above you ; 
 Always be sure of some one to love you ; 
 Always be blameless, free from correction ; 
 Always be as you're now, the pink of perfection. 
 
 l88i or 1882, 
 
A PRATER. 15 
 
 JUDGE NOT. 
 
 JUDGE not. As earth may sometimes yield a 
 flower 
 Not fragrant nor yet beautiful to view, 
 Yet hiding in its leaves a remedy ; 
 So God may make one of his family — 
 Though unassuming, seeking not applause — 
 A gift from heaven, a blessing to mankind. 
 
 December 26, 1S84, 
 
 A PRAYER. 
 
 O FATHER, take my trembling hand in thine, 
 For it is dark. I grope to find the way 
 Out of these shadows that my soul entwine 
 
 In deepest gloom. Lord, hear me while I pray, 
 That out of darkness into radiant light 
 My soul can see thy ways are always right. 
 
 O Christ, my King, my soul looks up to thee, 
 Poor weary soul ! O that it may be still, 
 
 And feel the sweetest place that it can be 
 Is in the center of thy blessed will ! 
 
 O lead me wheresoever I should go, 
 
 O'er desert sands or where cool waters flow ! 
 
 O Holy Spirit, be my constant guide ! 
 
 Thy voice I fain would hear ; then speak to me, 
 And let no jarring discord e'er divide 
 
 The pure devotion of this heart to thee. 
 Come, O thou triune God of love and peace, 
 Bid darkness flee, and storms forever cease. 
 
1 6 A RIFT IN THE CLOUDS. 
 
 LIGHTS AND SHADOWS. 
 
 THERE is no light, however bright, 
 O'er which no shadows glided ; 
 There are no eyes, though blue as skies, 
 Which tears have ne'er betided. 
 
 There is no day, however may 
 The golden sunbeams bind it. 
 
 But when it dies there softly sighs 
 Night's mourning winds behind it. 
 
 There is no one whom flaming sun 
 Floods with his wealth of glory, 
 
 But who full well could doubtless tell 
 Many a tearful story. 
 
 And such is life — now peace, then strife- 
 Flowing, but ebbing never ; 
 
 On, on it flows, till at its close 
 We sweetly rest forever. 
 
 1880 dr 1881. 
 
 WHERE HAVE THEY GONE ? 
 
 WHERE have the roses gone, my dear, 
 That bloomed upon thy face. 
 For passing beautiful they were 
 Ere lilies took their place? 
 
 Where have the blushes gone, my dear. 
 
 That played at hide and seek 
 Before one sorrow-mingled tear 
 
 Had stained thy dimpled cheek? 
 
BECKONING HANDS. 
 
 Where are those sunny smiles, my dear, 
 
 That rippled to and fro, 
 As sunlit waves on waters clear 
 
 In the sweet long ago ? 
 
 Ah ! time hath claimed them all, my dear, 
 
 But since thy love is left, 
 And I may know that thou art near, 
 
 I am not yet bereft. 
 
 January 14, iSqq. 
 
 BECKONING HANDS. 
 
 BECKONING hands of thousands in need. 
 See them appealing, when will ye take heed ? 
 Hands wan and thin from want and disease. 
 Whose emptiness now thy alms can appease. 
 
 Chorus. 
 Beckoning hands ! beckoning hands ! 
 O Christian, but heed their eager demands ! 
 Beckoning hands ! poor empty hands ! 
 Pleading in weariness. 
 Beckoning hands ! 
 
 Beckoning hands of a man in despair, 
 Wand'ring in wretchedness, caring not where ; 
 Finding no labor, though want's at his door, 
 Eagerly wishing life's nightmare was o'er. 
 
 Beckoning hands of a widow in grief. 
 Burdened with sorrow, nor finding relief ; 
 Glad of a bone or a morsel of bread, 
 Vainly appealing to hearts that are dead. 
 
1 8 A RIFT IN THE CLOUDS. 
 
 Beckoning hands of the child of the street, 
 Hard nozv and grimy — ojice dimpled and sweet-r- 
 No one to clasp them and lead them aright, 
 Dear little hands, O how tired to-night ! 
 
 Hands of the aged, so wrinkled and worn. 
 Bruised and wounded by many a thorn ; 
 Icy and motionless soon they will lie, 
 Nor beckon for aid we now may suppl}^ 
 
 Beckoning hands, O behold them to-night ! 
 Soon to be hid by the clods from our sight ; 
 They're calling even from far-away lands. 
 Ah! how will we answer those beckoning hands? 
 
 October 30, i8gS. 
 
 WHAT CAN I DO? 
 
 WHAT can I do in a world Hke this?" 
 Quoth a daisy fair, as a sunbeam's kiss 
 Fell warm on its heart of glistening gold ; 
 "Ah ! what can I do in a world so cold?" 
 
 But a little child plucked the daisy fair. 
 And with eager hand she carried it where 
 A weary one tossed on a sleepless bed, 
 And this is what the sufferer said : 
 
 "For the flow'r you've brought God bless you, my dear, 
 For it is so sweet ! " And then a bright tear 
 Trickled down on the heart of yellow gold — 
 'Twas the flower's work in a world so cold, 
 
 "What can I do?" quoth a tiny bird, 
 " For so frail am I it would be absurd 
 To even dream there's a vv^ork for me 
 That will brighter make this sad world be." 
 
TRUST, 19 
 
 But the bird sang out in notes so clear 
 That a breaking heart was filled with cheer. 
 To fill a wounded heart with bliss 
 Was its mission sweet in a world like this. 
 
 " What can I do ? " quoth a sunbeam bright, 
 " In a world so dark, can my little light 
 Its shadows of sorrow banish away ? 
 O what good can a sunbeam do, I pray ? " 
 
 But a child's dear hand clasped the golden beam 
 As it fell as soft as a fairy dream, 
 And o'er her radiant face a sweet smile, 
 Like a shower of sunbeams, played the while. 
 
 "What can I do?" There is work for us all 
 In a world of sin, there are none too small 
 For our Lord to use in his purpose wise 
 On the earth to rebuild a paradise 
 
 More beautiful far than Eden's bowers. 
 With their wondrous wealth of fruits and flowers. 
 The least of us can, in the Master's way, 
 Speed the rosy dawn of the coming day. 
 
 December iS, l8gS, 
 
 TRUST. 
 
 Inscribed to Rev. C. A. Fulwood, Florida Conference. 
 
 I CANNOT see the way Thou leadest. Lord, 
 For darksome is the chill and gloomy night ; 
 But well I know that Thou canst not afford 
 To lead me, gracious Father, aught but right. 
 
20 A RIFT IN THE CLOUDS. 
 
 Then what reck I which way my feet may tread, 
 Whether o'er rugged mount or vernal mead, 
 
 To greet the living or to kiss the dead 
 
 A last farewell, if Thou, my God, dost lead? 
 
 The shadows thicken, and I cannot see, 
 I know not why to walk alone I must. 
 
 And miss my darling so ; but O, to me 
 Faith is so passing sweet I can but trust! 
 
 LOW AT THY FEET. 
 
 LOW at Thy feet, my Saviour dear., 
 I would abide. 
 Within Thy kindly shadow, Lord, 
 
 Fain would I hide 
 Out of this blinding storm 
 Near Thy beloved form, 
 O Christ, my Guide. 
 
 No peace I've found away from Thee — 
 
 No joy nor rest — 
 O let me lean my tired head 
 
 Upon Thy breast ! 
 A pillow soft and kind 
 For weary, troubled mind. 
 
 Or soul distressed. 
 
 Soft as the silv'ry moonbeams fall 
 
 Where flowers nod. 
 Kissed by the tender, balmy wind — 
 
 Breath of our God — 
 So in this heart of mine 
 Let rays of love divine 
 
 Beam all abroad. 
 
IF I MA r WALK WITH THEE. 2 I 
 
 One day life's golden sun will set 
 
 Low in the west, 
 Helpless these toil-worn hands 
 
 Lie on my breast ; 
 Then, all life's shadows past, 
 O grant my soul at last 
 
 Its long-sought rest ! 
 
 Probably written in i8qb. 
 
 IF I MAY WALK WITH THEE. 
 
 THIS thorny way which now I slowly tread, 
 While darksome clouds hang low'ring o'er my 
 head ; 
 I'll go, dear Lord, yes, go submissively, 
 If I may walk with Thee. 
 
 Chorus. 
 O let me walk with thee. 
 Lord, let me walk with thee ! 
 I'll go where'er thou leadest me, 
 O let me walk with thee ! 
 
 Life is a storm. The lightnings scorch my soul. 
 While o'er me. Lord, the rumbling thunders roll ; 
 No friendly star in all the night I see, 
 O let me walk with thee ! 
 
 Others the sunlight of thy smile may crave, 
 Be mine the strength this storm of life to brave ; 
 And O, at last this thought my comfort be, 
 That I have walked with thee ! 
 
 i8g5 probably. 
 
22 A RIFT IN THE CLOUDS. 
 
 IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 AND she has gone, my gentle wife, 
 Companion of my early years ! 
 The hope and joy of manhood's prime, 
 
 The partner of my joys and tears. 
 She's left me here to battle on 
 
 Amid the gathering shades of night. 
 While in her bright and happy home 
 She waits for me, my precious wife. 
 
 A cheery girl I saw her first, 
 
 And as I gazed upon her face 
 Within my merry, boyish heart 
 
 I gave the child the fondest place. 
 And when she said she'd be my wife, 
 
 I looked into her sparkling eye, 
 Nor did I dream in all the land 
 
 That there was one so rich as I. 
 
 Well, one by one the years sped by 
 
 Until I dared to call her wife ; 
 I found her faithful, true and kind. 
 
 The crowning glory of my life. 
 And as the years went circling on, 
 
 And children prattled round my knee, 
 I knew she was more precious far 
 
 Than all the world beside to me. 
 
 But time on swiftest wing flew by. 
 And wife and I were growing old. 
 
 And she, my love, was nearing fast 
 The pearly gates and streets of gold. 
 
 At length the angels floated down 
 And bore her waiting spirit home. 
 
WAITING FOR THE SHIP. 23 
 
 And safely in that tearless land 
 My darling waits for me to come 
 
 And so I'm only staying here, 
 
 Dwelling within a world of pain 
 Waiting until on snowy wings 
 
 These radiant angels come again 
 To bear me to my home on high, 
 
 Where I my darling's face will see, 
 Beaming with joy and wreathed in smiles 
 
 And with her spend eternity. 
 
 No longer old and frail, I'll sweep 
 
 O'er fields of light on swiftest wing, 
 And as I wing my shining way 
 
 Will shout the praise of Christ my King ; 
 There, far above the distant stars, 
 
 I'll sing of Him whose grace doth save 
 His children from the fear of death, 
 
 And from the bondage of the grave. 
 
 WAITING FOR THE SHIP. 
 
 UPON the shore of life's wide ocean, sweeping 
 Through its great channel, wide, and dark, and 
 
 deep, 
 I sit to-night and while my time in weeping, 
 
 For O, I am so sad I cannot sleep ! 
 I vainly strain my tear-dimmed eyes to see 
 The ship that bore my dear one far from me. 
 O sea of life with foam-capped billows heaving ! 
 
 Full many barks lie stranded on thy shore 1 
 How passing strange a soul should sigh at leaving 
 
 Aboard the ship, so soon to bear us o'er 
 
24 A RIFT IN THE CLOUDS. 
 
 To yonder world where gleams the golden sand — 
 The shining landmark of that better land. 
 
 Somewhere beyond thy breakers dark and rolling 
 I shall not hear the hoarse-voiced tempest roar, 
 
 But O, the thought to me is so consoling, 
 My darling's safe upon that far-off shore, 
 
 Where we may clasp each other heart to heart. 
 
 And through eternal ages ne'er shall part. 
 
 In this sweet thought a world of consolation 
 Falls as the sunshine in my dreary soul. 
 
 And brings my heart the richest compensation 
 For all the darksome clouds that o'er me roll. 
 
 Though raging sea should now our souls divide, 
 
 We'll meet and love upon the other side. 
 
 January 12, i8gg. 
 
 I WILL NOT MURMUR. 
 
 Inscribed to My Friend, Rev. J. D. Barbee, D.D. 
 
 1WILL not murmur, though the clouds hang low. 
 And fiercely round me wintry winds should blow, 
 But in the tempest I will meekly go. 
 If Thou wilt guide. 
 
 What though I suffer? I am used to pain. 
 What though I die ? my Lord for me was slain. 
 But let me seek, O Christ, yet once again 
 In thee to hide. 
 
 Let me but find a refuge. Lord, in thee. 
 Far from the strife of tongues, O let me be 
 Hidden away, my God, and ever free 
 From all mv sin. 
 
PRAl'ER. 25 
 
 But grant me this, and I will gladly bear 
 Of all life's varied ills my bitter share, 
 And I'll rejoice where others would despair. 
 O take me in ! 
 
 In from the storm that beats my shrinking soul, 
 In from the lightning flames that o'er me roll, 
 Where evermore thy glories I'll extol. 
 My blessed God ! 
 
 O God, in mercy hear, O hear my cry ! 
 And heed me, blessed Father, lest I die, 
 Then gladly to thy bosom I will fly. 
 And kiss thy rod ! 
 
 December ly, iSgy. 
 
 TO J. A. S. 
 
 DEAR friend, bright be the thread 
 Love weaves for thee ! 
 With golden luster may it ever shine ! 
 Unmarred by tears may it forever be 
 As beauteous as now to thee and thine. 
 With varied strands to form a perfect whole, 
 As pure as heaven, immortal as the soul ! 
 
 Jioie 7, 1882. 
 
 PRAYER. 
 
 PRAYER is the language of the heart to God^ 
 We all may pray, 
 And even underneath the chast'ning rod 
 
 Can meekly say : 
 *' Father, thy will be done, O let me be 
 Wholly resigned to thee." 
 
26 A RIFT IN THE CLOUDS. 
 
 Pure fervent, faithful prayer is ne'er in vain. 
 
 The ravens' cry 
 Reaches the ear of Him who sends the grain. 
 
 Then why should I 
 Fear lest my cry the Father will not heed, 
 And grant me all I need? 
 
 Help me to pray, dear Lord, and watch and wait 
 
 Thy time to give, 
 Nor may I ever think the blessing late 
 
 That I receive. 
 In thy good time and own appointed way, 
 But, trusting, may I pray ! 
 
 MOTHER IS ONLY ASLEEP. 
 
 OWHY should my heart be so lonely to-night. 
 And round me grief's dark shadows creep? 
 They'll flee at the dawn of the swift-coming light, 
 For mother is only asleep ! 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Only asleep ! Only asleep ! 
 No longer to mourn or to weep ; 
 Then why should I sorrow ? 
 She'll wake on the morrow, 
 For mother is only asleep. 
 
 How calm is her rest 'neath the daisies and vines. 
 While angels their fond vigils keep ! 
 
 How strange that my heart in its anguish repines, 
 Since mother is only asleep ! 
 
PARADISE. 27 
 
 Her beautiful hands now lie still on her breast, 
 Her meek eyes will nevermore weep, 
 
 Her dear tired feet are forever at rest — 
 Sweet mother is only asleep ! 
 
 How happy I'll be when her slumber is o'er 
 Which now is so peaceful and deep, 
 
 Again we shall meet, but will part nevermore, 
 For mother is only asleep. 
 
 About iSgs. 
 
 N. B. — Copyrighted by W. S. Weeden, Esq., New York. Used by per- 
 mission. Words and tune, 25 cents. For sale by R. O. Smith, Winterville, Ga. 
 
 PARADISE. 
 
 Inscribed to My Friend, Rev. Dr. T. R, Kendall. 
 
 I THINK if we could see the world above, 
 With streets of gold and mansions built of light, 
 Where on their snowy wings bright angels move. 
 Encircling, dazzling spheres in lofty flight ; 
 
 Where saints redeemed, and seraphs round the throne. 
 Their voices blend the Saviour's praise to sing, 
 
 And earthly friends are coming one by one. 
 To carol sweetest anthems to their King — 
 
 We would not hold so dear the things of earth, 
 That for the moment only charm our eyes 
 
 But seek those treasures of enduring worth 
 Reserved for us in our sweet Paradise. 
 
 December y i8q/j. 
 
28 A RIFT IN THE CLOUDS. 
 
 MY PAPA DOES THAT WAY. 
 
 Not as a boy should do, but too often as he will do. 
 
 I TELL you what I mean to do 
 When I'm a grown-up man, 
 Tobacco I will smoke and chew 
 
 As much as e'er I can, 
 Though now it makes me awful sick, 
 
 I hope it won't some day, 
 I'll always to the habit stick. 
 For papa does that way. 
 
 Chorus. 
 My papa does that way, you know, 
 
 My papa does that way, 
 I think it must be right, don't you ? 
 
 For papa does that way. 
 
 Some other things I mean to do 
 
 My mamma cannot bear : 
 I'll join a club, drink whisky too, 
 
 Tell naughty yarns, and swear. 
 No one need say that I must not. 
 
 For I will not obey, 
 Of course I'll never be a sot : 
 
 My papa does that way. 
 
 And when to meeting I shall go, 
 
 A back seat I will spy, 
 I'll not forget my " quid," you know, 
 
 And make the " ambeer " fly. 
 And when the basket's poked at me, 
 
 I'll look the other way. 
 And sing " I'm glad salvation's free : ' 
 
 My papa does that way. 
 
STRIKE DOWN THE ''OLD MANP 29 
 
 In prayer, of course, I'll never kneel, 
 
 But sit back in my seat ; 
 For it would break my heart to feel 
 
 I'd spoil my trousers neat. 
 I'll square myself back in my pew, 
 
 And let the preacher pray ; 
 Of course this is the thing to do, 
 
 Since papa does that way. 
 
 iSgi. 
 
 STRIKE DOWN THE "OLD MAN.^' 
 
 STRIKE down the "old man ! " 
 Slay him. Lord. 
 Thrust through his haughty heart 
 
 With thy sword. 
 Spare not one breath of life, 
 Silence this inward strife. 
 By thy word. 
 
 Strike down the " old man ! " 
 
 Heed my moan, 
 Henceforth in my poor heart 
 
 Reign alone ! 
 Jesus, but have thy way. 
 Henceforth my nature sway. 
 
 Mighty One! 
 
 Strike down the "old man," 
 
 He shall die ! 
 Let him no longer. Lord, 
 
 Thee defy. 
 How dare he rival thee? 
 Come, thou, and set me free, 
 
 God most hisfh ! 
 
30 A RIFT IN THE CLOUDS, 
 
 Strike down the " old man," 
 
 Deal the blow ! 
 Make ev'ry crimson stain 
 
 White as snow, 
 Free am I, gracious Lord, 
 
 Free through thy mighty word 
 From the foe ! 
 
 SAM P. JONES. 
 
 SON of the South : A nation's pride thou art. 
 Golden in speech, and generous in heart ; 
 Humble in manner, plain in thine attire, 
 To do thy work thy one supreme desire ; 
 To condescend to men of low estate, 
 And kind to all, the lowly and the great ; 
 Brain full of thought as rich as golden ore ; 
 A charity that reaches ev'ry shore. 
 Brave as a lion, gentle as a lamb, 
 Genial and full of wit, our gifted Sam ! 
 Long may'st thou live thy noble task to do. 
 And when at last with labor thou art through, 
 May'st thou be ever numbered with the blest, 
 And, safe with Jesus, find eternal rest. 
 
 December 22, iSqj. 
 
 AN AIMLESS LIFE. 
 
 AN aimless life ! O God, 'tis worse than death ! 
 No port in view, to spend one's fleeting breath 
 And failing strength in \vanderings from thee. 
 And in a storm to drift o'er raging sea. 
 
GO BACK TO TOUR DIVE. 3 1 
 
 O must I ever toss where billows break 
 Upon my wrecking bark, and tempest shake 
 The deep and boundless sea of bitter woe, 
 Great God ! It is too much such grief to know. 
 
 Probably ivritteii in 1S82. 
 
 GO BACK TO YOUR DIVE. 
 
 [Suggested by seeing an intoxicated woman who asked for prayer put out 
 of a mission in Atlanta, Ga.] 
 
 WHY do you come here from the chill of the night ? 
 Such creatures as you are for darkness, not 
 light; 
 To rescue such wretches we cannot contrive ; 
 Go back to your dive, woman ! back to your dive ! 
 
 How dare you 'to ask of the righteous their prayers ? 
 You are going to hell, it is true ; but who cares? 
 To save such as you are we never will strive ; 
 Go back to your dive, woman ! back to your dive ! 
 
 It is true that w^e claim poor sinners to love, 
 And plead for their pardon to Jesus above, 
 But away from God's altars you would we drive ; 
 Go back to your dive, woman ! back to your dive ! 
 
 Back in the gloomy night, poor creature ! she goes. 
 Bearing a burden, how heavy, God knows. 
 Who cares for her now, be she dead or alive? 
 Go back to your dive, woman ! back to your dive ! 
 
 O God, help us rescue from sin and from shame 
 Such sorrowful creatures who fear not thy name. 
 And let us not them our compassion deprive. 
 Saying, " Back to your dive, woman ! back to your 
 
 dive!" 
 
 March ij, i8gb. 
 
32 A RIFT IN THE CLOUDS. 
 
 OUR LITTLE FRIEND, NELLIE MAY RED- 
 DING. 
 
 DEAR Nellie, sweet Nellie, 
 Our treasure and pride ! 
 How glad we're to have thee 
 So near to our side ! 
 
 Thy sweet, beaming smiles 
 And the light of thine eyes 
 
 We hail as the day, dear. 
 When the sun doth rise. 
 
 Dear Nellie, sweet Nellie, 
 
 How can we depart 
 From a darling so dear 
 
 As, Nellie, thou art ! 
 
 But though we now part, 
 
 We'll meet thee again. 
 Thank God for the sunshine 
 
 That comes after rain ! 
 
 i88S or 1S89. 
 
 A 
 
 ALL HAIL ! 
 
 LL hail, almighty coming King ! 
 
 0-! 
 
 Let earth and heaven thy praises sin 
 And blood-washed millions round the throne 
 Praise ye the blessed coming One ! 
 
 O earth, be glad, nor longer sigh, 
 For our redemption draweth nigh ! 
 Jesus, the Lamb for sinners slain. 
 Behold ! behold, he comes again ! 
 
THA T BE A UTIFUL HAND. 33 
 
 Lo ! clouds of angels that attend 
 Jesus, the guilty sinner's friend ; 
 While saints, all radiant and fair, 
 Now rise to meet him in the air ! 
 
 All glory to our coming Lord ! 
 
 Yea, glory to the living Word ! 
 
 While earth and heaven combine to sing : 
 
 All hail ! all hail ! triumphant King ! 
 
 December 12, iSgy. 
 
 THAT BEAUTIFUL HAND. 
 
 SOME people there are — I am sorry it's so — 
 Are constantly seeking some method to show 
 Their beauteous charms, that people may know, 
 Or think them as fair as the beautiful snow. 
 
 Pearly teeth they may have, then they so love to smile ; 
 Wavy hair, then of course wear it down all the while ; 
 Or if little feet, they each day walk a mile 
 In their short evening dresses — they're always the style. 
 
 Such people, though homely, do their dead level best. 
 If with but one personal charm they are blessed, 
 Because of the pride they have always possessed. 
 Call notice to that at the cost of the rest. 
 
 There's some one I now can recall to my mind. 
 And if you don't think it would be too unkind, 
 I'll speak for a moment, and trust you will find 
 To naught save the truth is the writer inclined. 
 
 The person I mention, a lady I ween, 
 And one of the fairest I ever have seen. 
 Has nevertheless a way rather green. 
 She waves her hand with the air of a queen. 
 3 
 
34 A RIFT IN THE CLOUDS, 
 
 Now of course her best friends all well understand 
 
 This lady displays that beautiful hand 
 
 Far more than necessity e'er doth demand, 
 
 And if she just wouldn't, they'd think her so grand. 
 
 Remember the time-worn old adage is true, 
 'Tis wisdom to keep the fact well in view. 
 The world will bequeath to e'en Satan his due. 
 Now, friend, do you think it will do less by you ? 
 
 If you have any worth, pray don't try to strew it, 
 Though unsung by the bard, unpenned by the j)oet ; 
 If beauty is yours, don't seek to show it. 
 For this much is certain, people will know it. 
 
 i8yg or 1880. 
 
 CHRISTIAN UNION. 
 
 OTHAT the people of the Lord 
 May lean upon his sacred word. 
 And all unite in Jesus' name 
 
 Who feel the sin-consuming flame. 
 
 Why should we be divided here. 
 When separation is so near? 
 When each must bid his sect farewell, 
 In heaven's unity to dwell? 
 
 O that all sects that dwell below 
 Would in the sweetest union flow. 
 And Zion form one beauteous whole 
 From East to West and pole to pole ! 
 
 Then let all who in Christ rejoice 
 Follow our tender Shepherd's voice, 
 And in one fold united be 
 In Christian love and unity, 
 
 Written, I thjuk^ in 1884. 
 
HE IS NOT DEAD. 35 
 
 HE IS NOT DEAD. 
 
 In Memory of My Only Brother, Prof. Baker McCallum Smith. 
 
 OTELL me not my boy is dead ! 
 That I no more his face shall see, 
 And that within his father's home 
 
 A vacant chair must ever be ; 
 No, no, I cannot think him dead, 
 
 As sleeping- in his Texas grave. 
 Wrapped in his honor's spotless robe. 
 Rests one so noble true and brave. 
 
 Dead ? No, not dead — my gifted son 
 
 The Christian hero never dies. 
 Though changed the face we looked upon, 
 
 And closed now thy soft gray eyes ; 
 Though pulseless be thy gen'rous heart. 
 
 And cold thy hands lie on thy breast. 
 Though icy be thy stainless brow 
 
 And sealed the lips so often pressed. 
 
 Yet thou'rt not dead ; another sphere 
 
 Where angels ever make their home 
 Is where thy ransomed spirit dwells 
 
 And bides the time when " Pa " shall come. 
 Ah ! happy day 'twill be, my boy. 
 
 When I shall meet thee, yes, once more 
 Where grief's wild surges never roll. 
 
 Nor shadows line that far-off shore. 
 
 O God, till then my portion be. 
 
 And let thy joy beam through my grief ; 
 
 My wound, though great, is not so deep 
 That thou canst furnish no relief ; 
 
36 A RIFT IN THE CLOUDS. 
 
 And when thou callest me to meet 
 My pure, my sainted son, O God, 
 
 May heaven be more blest to me 
 
 For having borne thy chast'ning rod ! 
 
 Probably 1884. 
 
 THE COMFORTER. 
 
 YES, precious Lord, I feel it must be so 
 That all who do thy fullest fullness know. 
 Must suffer that thou in thy wisdom, Lord, 
 Dost let befall those who obey thy word. 
 
 But glory to thy ever-blessed name ! 
 That we who feel the persecuting flame. 
 Know even while the fires are sweeping round. 
 That in their glow the Comforter is found. 
 
 How near he comes ! How sweetly whispers he ! 
 His tender love is passing sweet to me ; 
 His wondrous grace he doth to me impart 
 And makes his temple in my trusting heart. 
 
 Original written January , i8g4. 
 
 WHAT MAKES YOU STRAPPED? 
 
 O, PAPA dear, what makes you strapped? 
 I want so much to know. 
 I've thought of it a hundred times. 
 And wondered why 'twas so. 
 
 There's lots of papas in the world 
 
 Not half as good as you. 
 Who have so many pennies that 
 
 Thev don't know what to do ! 
 
BRUNSWICK. 37 
 
 I often wonder, papa dear, 
 
 Why lots of girls and boys 
 Have O, so many pretty things, 
 
 Candy and books and toys. 
 
 But there are none of these for me. 
 
 Although I love them so, 
 You'd buy them for me w^ouldn't you ? 
 
 But you are strapped, you know. 
 
 Why, papa, you are crying sure, 
 
 I really do declare. 
 Don't cry, some day we'll go to heav'n ; 
 
 You won't be strapped up there. 
 
 i8q8. 
 
 BRUNwSWICK. 
 
 HAIL, beautiful city! 
 How gladly I greet thee, 
 Thou pride of my country 
 
 Nestled down by the sea ! 
 As the waves sing thy glory, 
 
 let me entreat thee. 
 Take thou the glad greeting 
 
 1 give unto thee ! 
 
 I hail the glad sunshine 
 
 That bathes thee with splendor ! 
 I welcome the ocean 
 
 So dear unto thee ; 
 And Brunswick, thou gem 
 
 On the bosom of Georgia, 
 Long, long mayst thou dwell 
 
 In thy home by the sea ! 
 
 March i8, i88b. 
 
38 A RIFT IN THE CLOUDS. 
 TO . 
 
 DEAR friend, please accept these flowers from me, 
 So fragrant and pure they remind me of thee. 
 And to thee do I send them, and hope that they may 
 Make brighter thy Hfe, if for only a day. 
 
 But when faded and gone are these flowers I send. 
 
 No longer to cheer thee, my beautiful friend, 
 
 God grant that forever in Memory's bowers. 
 
 My name be entwined with her ne'er-fading flowers. 
 
 June 3, 1S83. 
 
 LINES TO ANNIE. 
 
 I SHALL miss thee, Annie darling. 
 When I'm far away from thee. 
 And there's not a ray of sunshine 
 
 In the brightest day for me 
 When I fail to hear the music 
 
 In the brook's melodious tone ; 
 I am sure that I shall miss thee. 
 Gentle Annie, when I'm gone. 
 
 I shall miss thee, Annie darling. 
 
 When Aurora's rosy hand 
 Wafts away the sullen darkness 
 
 That is brooding o'er the land. 
 And I'll miss thee when twilight shades 
 
 Creep round my pathway lone ; 
 Aye, how sadly shall I miss thee, 
 
 Annie, darling, when I'm gone ! 
 
 I shall miss thee, Annie darling, 
 Even midst the festive throng. 
 
AL TOGE THER. 39 
 
 And I'll count the languid hours 
 
 As they slowly drag along, 
 'Ere I'll press thy lily fingers 
 
 Fondly clasp them in my own; 
 I am sure that I shall miss thee, 
 
 Precious Annie, when I'm gone ! 
 
 I shall miss thee, Annie darling, 
 
 When the trees are trimmed in gold, 
 And I'll sigh for thee when winter 
 
 His white carpet shall unfold ; 
 To think of thee morn, noon, and eve, 
 
 Shall I be ever 'prone ; 
 Yes, I'll miss thee, sadly miss thee, 
 
 Annie dearest, when I'm gone ! 
 
 I shall miss thee, Annie darling ; 
 
 Tell me wilt thou think of me? 
 Think of him whose heart strings, dear one, 
 
 Vibrate with such love for thee? 
 Though this heart may throb with friendship 
 
 True and lasting as thine own. 
 Yet 'twill beat with love undying. 
 
 For thy heart, and thine alone. 
 1878. 
 
 ALTOGETHER. 
 
 ALTOGETHER ! Altogether ! 
 Christians, let our watchword be ! 
 Let us strike to-day for union. 
 
 Let us ever more be free ! 
 Keeping step along the line. 
 Lord, the vict'ry shall be thine I 
 
40 A RIFT IN THE CLOUDS. 
 
 Altogether ! Altogether ! 
 
 Let the armies of the Lord 
 In the battle be united, 
 
 While we hold aloft his word, 
 We shall conquer by and by, 
 We must conquer or we die. 
 
 Altogether ! Altogether ! 
 
 Jesus leads his soldiers on. 
 Let us ever be united 
 
 'Neath the banner of his Son. 
 Soon the crowning day will come 
 Christ will lead the victors home. 
 
 LINES TO 
 
 IF ev'ry pebble were a gem. 
 And each belonged to me, 
 And ev'ry star a diadem 
 
 So radiant to see. 
 Still would I have no thought for chem, 
 
 Nor they a charm for me ; 
 For memory would wander back 
 To days gone by, and thee. 
 
 If ev'ry whisp'ring breeze that blows 
 
 A boon could waft to me. 
 If ev'ry rippling brook that flows. 
 
 Could sing its melody 
 Unto my honor, I would not 
 
 List to their silv'ry tone 
 Whilst 1 could listen to ihee^ love, 
 
 Ai\d hear thy voice alone. 
 
A SIGH FOR REST, 4 1 
 
 O could I ever hear thy voice, 
 
 So musical to me ! 
 That ofttimes makes my heart rejoice 
 
 With richest melody ; 
 And could I ever have thee near, 
 
 To comfort and to bless. 
 My heart would weary of its bliss 
 
 And sigh for loneliness. 
 
 It is the music of thy voice, 
 
 My darling, that I need. 
 And 'tis thy hand can make this earth 
 
 A paradise indeed. 
 And it is thou who must be nigh 
 
 If life would have its bliss ; 
 Ah, then, what man so rich as I, 
 
 Or world so fair as this? 
 
 1877 or 187S. 
 
 A SIGH FOR REST. 
 
 O RADIANT light that on the bright to-morrow, 
 These clouds will pierce, that shade my skies 
 to-day ; 
 O tender hand that through my darksome sorrow 
 Will lead me over life's uneven way. 
 
 In the bright rays of an eternal morning, 
 My weary spirit soon will find its rest ; 
 
 Why should I sigh for wealth, or earth's adorning, 
 If I may lean my head on Jesus' breast ? 
 
42 A RIFT IN THE CLOUDS. 
 
 Earth gives no comfort to the soul that's dreary, 
 Nor takes away one sting she hath given, 
 
 Dear Lord, my heart is sick, my life is dreary, 
 O let me find my long-sought rest in heaven. 
 
 April 2j, 1S83. 
 
 MEMOR.Y. 
 
 O MEMORY! dear Memory! 
 How often dost thou come 
 And lead me back o'er vanished years, 
 
 To childhood's happy home ! 
 Again I see my mother's face, 
 
 And climb upon her knee ; 
 O Memory, fond Memory, 
 How dear thou art to me ! 
 
 O Memory ! sweet Memory ! 
 
 Together do we go. 
 Until my mother's voice I hear, 
 
 In tones so sweet and low ; 
 In silv'ry strains my own voice floats 
 
 Upon the ambient air. 
 As, taught by her sweet, saintly lips, 
 
 I lisp my evening prayer. 
 
 But Memory ! O Memory ! 
 
 Sometimes thy finger white 
 Points to those deeds of bygone years. 
 
 As black as darkest night. 
 But lo ! by faith, I see a hand, 
 
 Dripping with precious blood ; 
 It washes every stain awaj^, 
 
 And leads me back to God. 
 
 February, i8q8. 
 
M 
 
 WALKING BT FAITH. 43 
 
 IN CHRIST. 
 
 Y refuge is in Christ ; 
 I ask for nothing more 
 Than to be sheltered near his side 
 
 Till this brief life is o'er. 
 Dear Saviour, help me to abide, 
 Forever near thee — at thj. side. 
 
 My glory is in Christ ; 
 
 The little good I do 
 Is by his help. I'm w^eak and blind, 
 
 But strong is he and true ; 
 'Tis in his strength I w^ould proclaim 
 
 The glory of Jehovah's name. 
 
 My powder is in Christ ; 
 
 If I should vs^ield the sword, 
 And sinners, w^ounded to the heart. 
 
 Should turn and seek their Lord, 
 'Tis Christ whose pow'r is wrought through mc. 
 
 To him eternal praise shall be. 
 
 My heaven is in Christ ; 
 
 If ever I should gain 
 An entrance through the pearly gates. 
 
 Where tears are not nor pain, 
 Then Christ, who is my glory here. 
 
 Will be my heaven ever there ! 
 
 iS8b, I think. 
 
 WALKING BY FAITH. 
 
 ONLY walk by faith, and not by sight ; 
 ^y ''ugged way I ofttimes fail to see ; 
 But though I be encompassed by the night. 
 My ever-faithful Guide is leading me. 
 
 I 
 
44 -4 RIFT IN THE CLOUDS. 
 
 Chorus. 
 He guides me in a way I cannot see ; 
 I am content just so He leadeth me. 
 
 Sometimes the way is steep and hard to climb ; 
 
 I well-nigh faint while passing to my goal y 
 But weeping go, hoping to gain sometime 
 
 The safe and blissful refuge of the soul. 
 
 The path I wend is ofttimes red with blood 
 Of One whose dear feet pressed it all alone ; 
 
 Led by the footprints of the Son of God, 
 Though weary, still I seek to follow on. 
 
 And by and by, when to the end I come, 
 And see the glory of my Saviour's face, 
 
 When safe at last in my eternal home, 
 
 I'll tell the angels of His wondrous grace. 
 
 June i8, j8q8. 
 
 IN MEMORY OF MISS CARRIE DUPREE. 
 
 SHE is not dead. Fond parents do not mourn 
 Nor shed your tears upon that mound of clay, 
 For a new soul by angels hath been borne 
 To a fair land of everlasting day. 
 
 Across her beauteous brow the wing of night 
 Shall ne'er one shadow fling, for O, above. 
 
 The Saviour's beaming face is heaven's light. 
 And in that light thy child doth ever move. 
 
 Then do not weep nor think thy darling's dead. 
 Nor wish her back within this world of care. 
 
 Up to the throne of God her soul hath sped, 
 O parents, meet thy sainted Carrie there ! 
 
ALMOST HOME, 45 
 
 'Twill not be long, for but a span is life, 
 Till you may meet no more to say good-by, 
 
 In that bright realm unmarred by sin and strife, 
 Where those we love shall never, never die. 
 
 1881. 
 
 ALMOST HOME. 
 
 The Last Words of Benjamin H. Hill. 
 
 THERE he lies, the grand old statesman. 
 On a couch of racking pain. 
 Friends and kindred grouped around him. 
 
 Gazing on his face again. 
 One more time ere the light footstep 
 
 Of the angel death shall come. 
 When they catch the whispered accents. 
 Echo softly, "Almost home." 
 
 "Almost home ! " Thank God ! the pilgrim, 
 
 Climbing up life's rugged way. 
 Tired, sees a home to cheer him. 
 
 Sees a mansion bright as day ; 
 Views a house that God hath builded 
 
 Far above the azure dome 
 That in splendor bends above him. 
 
 Breathes the message, "Almost home." 
 
 Hark ! the soldier's passing over. 
 
 Life's red tide is ebbing fast ; 
 Nothing says he of the future. 
 
 Naught of all the journey past. 
 Murmurs not of pains that racked him. 
 
 Whispers not of pangs to come. 
 Bravely looks through gath'ring shadows. 
 
 Sweetly whispers, "Almost home." 
 
4^ A RIFT IN THE CLOUDS, 
 
 Sees he now the rolling river, 
 
 As it flows twixt earth and heaven, 
 And the beaming rays of glory 
 
 Through the falling mists are driven ; 
 Now the boatman. Death, glides over, 
 
 Bears our hero o'er the foam, 
 Angels strike your harps of welcome, 
 
 Georgia's statesman is at home ! 
 
 i88i or 1882. 
 
 VICTORY. 
 
 ON shining wings of Christian faith 
 My ransomed soul would gladly rise 
 Triumphant over hell and death, 
 Above the skies. 
 
 A glad new song of love and peace, 
 
 By thee attuned my tongue would sing. 
 
 Nor ever for a moment cease 
 To praise my King. 
 
 O grant that I may ever praise 
 
 Thy matchless name, most gracious Lord, 
 To worship thee through endless days 
 
 Be my reward. 
 
 Thus would I live triumphantly. 
 
 And, blessed Saviour, ever be 
 Filled with thy love, and constantly 
 
 Dwell, Lord, with thee. 
 
 January sg, 1884, 
 
DOT'S LETTER TO GRANDPA. 47 
 
 REST AWHILE. 
 
 Inscribed to Rev. R. W. Bigham, the gifted autlior of «' Vinny Leal's Trip 
 to the Golden Shore." 
 
 GO aside, beloved, and rest awhile ; 
 Well hast thou borne the burdens of life's day, 
 And thou hast rescued sinners lost and vile 
 Till thou art old ; then rest aw^hile, I pray. 
 
 Thou hast not sought the honors earth can give, 
 Nor deigned to hoard her vain, delusive pelf ; 
 
 But for her richer w^eal v^as w^ont to give 
 
 Thy manhood's strength and sacrifice thyself. 
 
 Then go aside and rest, nor faintly dream 
 
 Thy w^ork hath been in vain, nor shed one tear. 
 
 Behold, my friend, among the crov^ns that gleam 
 With heav'nly gems, thy crown awaits thee where 
 
 Christ's soldiers never feel the hand of time, 
 Where wintry age and sorrow never come ; 
 
 Far from earth's frosts and chill, into a clime 
 
 Where youth immortal blooms, behold thy home ! 
 
 December, i8n8. 
 
 DOT'S LETTER TO GRANDPA. 
 
 DEAR grandpa, won't you come to see 
 Mamma and little Dot.? 
 We hoped you'd come last Christmas day, 
 But maybe you forgot. 
 
 I want to see you, O, a heap ! 
 
 And kiss you one, two, three ; 
 Last night when I was fast asleep 
 
 I dreamed that I could see 
 
48 A RIFT IN THE CLOUDS. 
 
 You walking right up to our gate, 
 And, grandpa, by your side 
 
 Was such a pretty pony, and 
 You let me take a ride. 
 
 You said the pony was ?ny pet, 
 Dear grandpa, didn't you ? 
 
 Be sure to come, and don't forget 
 To make my dream come true. 
 
 January 2, i8qg. 
 
 BEAUTIFUL DAYS. 
 
 BEAUTIFUL days so merrily 
 Tripping down the slope of time, 
 Days of my childhood, when in the wildwood, 
 
 Rippled my laughter in silvery chime, 
 I'll see you no more, your pleasures are o'er, 
 O beautiful, beautiful days ! 
 
 Beautiful days, return once more, 
 
 Bear me back to childhood's hours, 
 When in my gladness, stranger to sadness. 
 
 Often I gathered the ferns and the flowers. 
 You've flitted away, how brief was your stay ! 
 O beautiful, beautiful days ! 
 
 Beautiful days, when as a child. 
 
 Kneeling at my mother's knee, 
 Sajdng my evening prayer, never a thought of care, 
 
 O come from the past, come swiftly to me, 
 Unruffled by care, how sweet and how fair ! 
 O beautiful, beautiful days ! 
 
PRESERVATION. 49 
 
 A THANKSGIVING HYMN. 
 
 WE meet to-day to thank thee, Lord, 
 For blessings that have crowned the year. 
 We thank thee for thy written Word, . 
 
 For ev'ry smile and ev'ry tear. 
 The shades have blended with the light ; 
 
 We thank thee, Lord, for night and sun ; 
 O God of wisdom, love, and might, 
 We praise thee, great eternal One. 
 
 We bless thee. Lord, for evVy good. 
 
 For hope and faith, for joy and love. 
 For daily drink and daily food. 
 
 And ev'ry blessing from above, 
 O help us. Lord, to honor thee 
 
 In all the blessings that have come ; 
 And grant, our God, that each may be 
 
 A shining star to light us home. 
 
 This glad Thanksgiving day we meet. 
 
 Our songs of joyous praise to sing. 
 And lay our off' ring at thy feet. 
 
 And thank thee, thou eternal King. 
 Our songs of thankfulness we raise, 
 
 And both in deed and word would prove 
 Our deepest gratitude and praise, 
 
 A feeble tribute to thy love. 
 
 November 24, jSgS. 
 
 PRESERVATION. . 
 
 HE will keep the feet of his saints," 
 Sw^eet the promise God hath given. 
 He will surely guard their footsteps 
 All the way from earth to heaven. 
 4 
 
50 A RIFT IN THE CLOUDS. 
 
 He will guide his own each day, 
 Never from him need they stray, 
 On the mountains bleak and gray — 
 Tempest driven. 
 
 " He will keep the feet of his saints," 
 
 Precious words of consolation ; 
 He will shield them from all danger ; 
 
 In each trial and temptation. 
 He'll not leave them all alone. 
 E'er to sigh and weep and moan. 
 But will still provide his own — 
 His salvation. 
 
 "He will keep the feet of his saints," 
 And no evil shall betide them 
 
 As they walk by faith in Jesus, 
 
 And they know their Lord beside them 
 
 Through the storm and wind and cold, 
 
 To the streets of shining gold, 
 
 Jesus will his ransomed fold 
 Safely guide. 
 
 June II, i8gS. 
 
 A LITTLE WHILE. 
 
 A LITTLE while, the shadows all will flee. 
 And sorrow's pain and care shall be no more ; 
 A little while, and life's tempestuous sea 
 
 Shall cease to surge. It strikes not heaven's shore. 
 
 A little while, and changing friend nor foe, 
 No more shall taunt, nor ever will deceive. 
 
 And loved ones that our hearts now cherish so 
 Will never more a tearful good-by leave. 
 
SINCE I LOVE rOU, AND TOU LOVE ME. 5 1 
 
 A little while, and, life's fierce warfare done, 
 I'll gladly lay my heavy armor down. 
 
 And, knowing that the triumph I have won. 
 My Lord to me will grant the victor's crown. 
 
 A little while ! Ah ! who would have it long ? 
 
 I'll be at home. Yea, I who wander here 
 A homeless one, will join the blood- washed throng 
 
 And be at home, at home, forever there. 
 
 A little while the tempest to endure. 
 
 And hear the stormy, angry ocean's roar. 
 
 And then among the angels white and pure 
 I'll dwell with Jesus, ever, evermore. 
 
 March 13, i8qs. 
 
 SINCE I LOVE YOU, AND YOU LOVE ME. 
 
 Dedicated to My Wife. 
 
 I KNOW, my dear, the sea is rough. 
 And swelling billows round us roll. 
 The storm king holds thee in his arms, 
 
 And scathing lightnings pierce thy soul. 
 I know in all night's ebon dome. 
 
 No kindly star peers down on thee ; 
 But little do we care, sweet love. 
 Since I love you, and you love me. 
 
 I know, dear one, the friends we love 
 
 Oft fickle prove as lovers' arts. 
 And some we vainly dreamed were true 
 
 Have pressed a dagger to our hearts. 
 My God, forgive their cruel wrongs, 
 
 I still would cry on bended knee ; 
 We'll meekly bear it all, my sweet. 
 
 Since I love you, and you love me. 
 
52 A RIFT IN THE CLOUDS. 
 
 I know how poverty, my dear, 
 
 Has o'er us cast his leaden wing. 
 And how the sweet- voiced bird of hope 
 
 In silence broods, nor cares to sing ; 
 I know that tears now wet the cheek 
 
 I've often kissed in sportive glee ; 
 But, darling, we will not repine. 
 
 Since I love you, and you love me. 
 
 Then let the shadows come and go 
 
 Athwart the waste of weary years, 
 And let the smiles all fade away 
 
 As swiftly flow thy radiant tears. 
 Life has not lost its brightest charm, . 
 
 One joy serene shall never flee ; 
 Since thou, sweet wife, art still my own, 
 
 And I love you, and you love me. 
 
 February, i8q8. 
 
 WE ARE THE CLAY, AND THOU OUR 
 POTTER." 
 
 WE are the clay, and thou our Potter ! " 
 Mold us and fashion us after thy will; 
 Help us to lie in thy hands, O Father, 
 
 Yielding us, Lord, to thy wonderful skill. 
 Skill that can make us of beauteous mold, 
 White as the snowflake, more precious than gold. 
 
 Chorus. 
 We are the clay ! W e are the clay ! 
 
 Make us like Jesus, Father, we pray. 
 Lord, in thy likeness make us to be ; 
 
 Jesus, our Saviour, mold us like thee. 
 
GUIDANCE. 53 
 
 " We are the clay, and thou our Potter! " 
 Humbly we yield us, dear Father, to thee ; 
 
 Meekly we'll be the humblest of vessels, 
 If we may only but glorify thee. 
 
 Grant we may ever conform to thy word, 
 
 After thy pattern fashion us. Lord. 
 
 " We are the clay and thou our Potter," 
 
 If in the fire all helpless we lie, 
 Wrapped in the flames of the thrice-heated furnace, 
 
 May we remember our God is still nigh ! 
 Flames hot and raging our souls do not fear 
 If in thy likeness we yet may appear. 
 
 June 4, i8q8. 
 
 GUIDANCE. 
 
 TEACH me, O Lord, that I may teach 
 The lessons that I learn. 
 And in each page of joy or pain. 
 
 Some truth may I discern ; 
 Submissively at thy dear feet 
 
 I'd humbly sit each day. 
 And read the pages of thy will. 
 And there delight to stay. 
 
 Lead me, my God, that I may lead 
 
 Benighted souls to thee. 
 Who only hath the pow'r to set 
 
 Their fettered spirits free ; 
 O Father, clasp my trembling hand 
 
 And lead me through the night, 
 Where evermore my soul shall bask 
 
 In thy eternal light ! 
 
54 ^ RIFT IN THE CLOUDS 
 
 Comfort me, Lord, that I may speak 
 
 A word of hope or cheer, 
 And tell some broken-hearted one 
 
 The Comforter is near, 
 O Saviour, pour thy healing balm 
 
 Upon my wounded soul, 
 That I may say to those who weep. 
 
 Thou, Lord, hast made me whole. 
 
 June /, i8g8. 
 
 O GOD, OUR NEVER-CHANGING FRIEND. 
 
 OGOD, our never-changing Friend, 
 Thy free salvation grant to-day. 
 And now thy heav'n-fraught blessings send, 
 
 Our souls to cheer along life's way. 
 If we may only have thy smile, 
 
 No lot is hard, no day is drear ; 
 O may we feel that all the while, 
 God of our fathers, thou art near ! 
 
 The sparrow crieth not in vain 
 
 To have its store of daily bread ; 
 The thirsty flower of the plain 
 
 Quaffs the sweet dews that night hath shed ; 
 The lowing herd in pastures green 
 
 Each day receive their needful food, 
 And Nature, with a smile serene, 
 
 Proclaims, O Lord, that thou art good. 
 
 We're of more value. Lord, than these ; 
 
 Then richer gifts to us impart. 
 And may it now the Father please 
 
 To send his blessings to each heart 1 
 
MT MAMMAS WAT. 55 
 
 May we receive thy grace to-day, 
 
 O God of majesty and love, 
 To gild with glory all our way, 
 
 And guide us to our home above ! 
 
 Jtme ig, i8q8. 
 
 MY MAMMA'S WAY ; OR, A CHILD'S LOGIC. 
 
 WHEN I'm a grown-up woman, 
 I'll tell you what I'll do, 
 I'll do as my dear mamma does ; 
 Now tell me, wouldn't you ? 
 
 I'll wear the finest dry goods 
 
 That ever I can buy. 
 And go diked out in gold and pearls — 
 
 O how I'll look, won't I ? 
 
 Sleeves I will wear like great balloons, 
 The kind that mamma wears ; 
 
 And toothpick shoes so very tight — 
 O won't I put on airs? 
 
 A little snuff I'll slyly use — 
 
 Snuff is so nice, you know, 
 I think it must be ; say, don't you ? 
 
 For mainma loves it so. 
 
 For children poor, I'll send old rags 
 
 That I would never use ; 
 And things I wouldn't care to eat. 
 
 To them I'll not refuse. 
 
 And when an agent comes around. 
 
 Say, would it be a sin 
 To have the servant tell a lie. 
 
 And say, I am not in ? 
 
56 A RIFT IN THE CLOUDS. 
 
 You say that this would all be wrong? 
 
 O no ! for don't you see 
 What's not a sin for mamma dear 
 
 Must be all right for me? 
 
 LINES WRITTEN IN AN ALBUM. 
 
 LIKE some grand ship that braves the driving blast 
 And beating waves, yet comes in port at last, 
 As though defiant of the winds and wave. 
 Of lightning's flame, or ocean's briny grave ; 
 So may thy soul, amid life's ocean's roar. 
 Outride the storm and safely reach the shore. 
 
 i88g. 
 
 TO 
 
 AS the musical brook flows on to the river. 
 And the river is lost in the fathomless sea, 
 So the love of my heart flows onward forever, 
 Until it is lost forever in thee. 
 
 June, 1882. 
 
 TO MY BELOVED. 
 
 MISS thee? O say, does the thirsty flower 
 E'er miss the morning's dew? 
 Does the sweet rose yearn for the glad'ning shower^ 
 
 Or the sunlight warm and true? 
 Then, love, I felt the need of thee 
 
 To cheer my lonely life. 
 And know that soon, my dear, thou'lt be 
 My own, my precious wife. 
 
THT RECORD. 57 
 
 Love thee? Ah yes, as tenderly 
 
 As morning loves the sun, 
 My life a dreary w^aste would be 
 
 Without thy smiles, dear one ; 
 But O, with thee ! as shadows flee 
 
 Before the dawning day. 
 So weary cares depart from me ; 
 
 Love drives them all away. 
 
 THY RECORD. 
 
 WHAT is the record thou'rt making, my friend, 
 The volume thou'rt writing to-day.^ 
 Are its leaves fair and bright 
 With a glorious light? 
 O what is thy record? I pray. 
 
 Chorus. 
 The record of life! Ah, what shall it be? 
 O, will it mean gladness or sorrow to thee? 
 With joy wilt thou read it, or with grief's bitter tears- 
 The book thou art writing, this volume of years? 
 
 Each day thou art adding a page to thy life, 
 A leaf, to the volume of years. 
 
 And some pages are fair. 
 
 With no traces of care. 
 But others are blurred with thy tears. 
 
 Thou art writing thy deeds in the volume of life. 
 Are they righteous or evil, my friend? 
 
 When the book is complete 
 
 Thou thy record will meet. 
 Life's volume ! Ah, how will it end ? 
 
 October 31, i8q8. 
 
58 A RIFT IN THE CLOUDS. 
 
 ROOM FOR CHRIST AND ME. 
 
 I KNOW the path is narrow, Lord, 
 Which day by day I tread, 
 And oft with halting steps I go, 
 
 As in the way I'm led; 
 But then there comes this precious thought, 
 
 And all the shadows flee, 
 That in the dear old narrow way. 
 There's room for Christ and me ! 
 
 I know that dangers lurk around 
 
 My soul, dear Lord, to-day. 
 And angry clouds as dark as night 
 
 Oft hang above my way ; 
 I hear sin's angry lion roar 
 
 O'er hill and vale and lea. 
 But in the way that leads to life 
 
 There's room for Christ and me ! 
 
 How sad to feel that in a land. 
 
 Where joy w^ith sorrow blends, 
 A weary pilgrim finds no room. 
 
 And vainly seeks for friends ! 
 Lord, help me meekly bear the cross. 
 
 For such is thy decree; 
 Thank God, that in the narrow way 
 
 There's room for Christ and me ! 
 
 One day I'll see the gates of pearl 
 
 Unfold to let me in. 
 Where nevermore my soul shall know. 
 
 The blighting touch of sin ; 
 
SOMETIME, SOMEWHERE. 59 
 
 And there among the angel throng 
 
 I know that there will be 
 A shining crown of precious gems, 
 
 And room for Christ and me ! 
 
 April, i8q8. 
 
 SOMETIME, SOMEWHERE. 
 
 SOMEHOW I think life will not always be 
 As starless as it now doth seem to me. 
 But yet I'll feel the pressure of thy hand. 
 And every loving stroke will understand. 
 
 But for this dream that cheers my weary brain, 
 
 And gives a healing balm for ev'ry pain, 
 
 I think I could not press my way along 
 
 And keep my place among life's surging throng. 
 
 Somewhere beyond these circling shades that roll 
 Their dusky folds around my shrinking soul 
 The golden light doth beam for me, I wean, 
 In gorgeous splendor, hitherto unseen. 
 
 Sometime, somewhere — O blissful time and place — 
 I yet shall see, O Christ, thy shining face, 
 And find the joys I've vainly sought for here. 
 And know how in each trial Thou wast near. 
 
 And though I knew not. Lord, that thou wast nigh. 
 And saw each falling tear and heard my sigh. 
 Yet all the while thy arm was round me thrown. 
 Nor left me in the darkness all alone. 
 
 Ah ! worlds of compensation in the thought ! 
 With sweetest consolation is it fraught ! 
 1^11 meekly bear each stroke of thy dear hand. 
 And trust thee where I cannot understand. 
 
 March zr, iSgS. 
 
6p A RIFT IN THE CLOUDS. 
 
 I'M WALKING IN YOUR TRACKS, PAPA, 
 
 I'M walking in your tracks, I3apa, 
 Wherever you ma}^ guide, 
 I know that you are wiser 
 
 Than all the world beside, 
 So in your footsteps I will walk, 
 
 Feeling that you know 
 Where my little tender feet. 
 Papa, ought to go. 
 
 Chorus. 
 I'm walking in your tracks, papa. 
 
 For I love you so ! 
 Papa, I will follow you 
 
 Everywhere you go! 
 
 I'm walking in your tracks, papa, 
 
 I follow you each day ; 
 And I'll watch the way you go, 
 
 Lest I should lose my way ; 
 Do not let my little feet 
 
 Stumble in the night ; 
 Papa, I am trusting you 
 
 Will you lead me right? 
 
 I'm walking in your tracks, papa, 
 
 And list'ning to you speak ; 
 Do not lead your darling wrong. 
 
 For I am small and weak. 
 In your footprints I will step 
 
 All along the way ; 
 Papa, if I follow you 
 
 Will I go astray.? 
 
 Jtine jS, iSgS. 
 
Mr LITTLE EVENING PRATER. 
 MY LITTLE EVENING PRAYER. 
 
 THERE is a sacred memory ; 
 •How oft it comes to me ! 
 Again I seem a little child, 
 
 At my dear mother's knee ; 
 Her hand is nest'ling tenderly 
 
 Within my tangled hair, 
 And now in voice so sweet and mild 
 
 I lisp my evening prayer : 
 " Now I lay me down to sleep ; 
 I pray the Lord my soul to keep." 
 
 Ah happy, rosy childhood days ! 
 
 Never to come again ! 
 O would to God I were to-night 
 
 As free from ev'ry stain 
 As when near mother dear I knelt, 
 
 So innocent and fair, 
 And said in accents soft and sweet 
 
 My little evening prayer : 
 " If I should die before I wake, 
 
 I pray the Lord my soul to take." 
 
 The years have swiftly glided by 
 
 And I am growing old. 
 But oft those happy childhood days 
 
 Doth memory unfold. 
 And oft these eyes with tears are dim 
 
 As mother's vacant chair 
 Brings from the past her cherished form. 
 
 And that sweet evening prayer : 
 " Now I lay me down to sleep ; 
 I pray the Lord my soul to keep ; 
 
62 A RIFT IN THE CLOUDS. 
 
 If I should die before I wake, 
 I pray the Lord my soul to take." 
 iSgs, I think. 
 
 THEN AND NOW. 
 
 1KNOW that I am not as I should be, 
 And that my life has most unworthy been ; 
 If any virtue e'er was found in me, 
 
 Too oft 'twas clouded by the mists of sin ; 
 And yet of little good I may possess. 
 
 The smallest portion cometh not from me ; 
 Knowing, O God, my own unworthiness, 
 I gladly give the glory unto thee. 
 
 My feet have often strayed far from the right. 
 
 And weary have they grown while they have trod 
 The rough and downward way, as in the night 
 
 They stumbled far away from hope and God, 
 Had I gone on forgetful of my Lord, 
 
 I weary should have fallen by the way ; 
 But Jesus spoke, and at my Master's word 
 
 I turned, my darkness fled, and all was day. 
 
 And now I do not know how it can be 
 
 That one so sorrow-laden as was I, 
 Can sing a glad new song so joyously. 
 
 And find so smooth a path and clear a sky. 
 But this I know : my Father claims his child. 
 
 So willingly I strive to do his will ; 
 I trust in him to keep me undefiled, 
 
 In light or shadow do I trust him still. 
 
ASSURANCE OF SALVATION. 63 
 
 Full well I know the Shepherd loves his sheep, 
 
 And when he brings the lost one to the fold 
 It nevermore need stray to treach'rous steep, 
 
 Nor comfortless bear winter's frosts and cold. 
 I know he takes the lost into his arms. 
 
 And folds the wand'rer on his gentle breast. 
 Then why should I fear worst of earth's alarms 
 
 While on his sacred bosom safe I rest. 
 
 January, 1884. 
 
 ASSURANCE OF SALVATION. 
 
 LORD, I would know that I am born of thee, 
 And that my doubts and fears at last are o'er. 
 That Jesus shed his precious blood for me. 
 And on the cross my load of sin he bore. 
 
 let me feel thy Spirit in my soul 
 
 Each moment saying, " Child, I make thee whole." 
 
 1 would not inerely feebly hope or think 
 
 My name inscribed within the Book of Life, 
 But realize that through thy wondrous grace 
 
 I now am free from all indwelling strife ; 
 Yea, know that thou dost ever have thy way. 
 And by thy power doth now my nature sway. 
 
 O Holy Spirit of the living God, 
 
 Let morning rise within this anxious breast. 
 And in my heart thy glory shed abroad, 
 
 And bid my storm-swept spirit be at rest ; 
 Let rays of peace and sweet assurance shine. 
 To prove that I am thine, and thou art mine. 
 
 J.uu-5.i3q8. 
 
^4 A RIFT IN THE CLOUDS. 
 
 CONSECRATION. 
 
 O BLESSED Lord, myself I give to thee, 
 Take all I have, and am, and hope to be, 
 All, all is thine ; accept the gift, I pray ; 
 'Tis all I have, then turn me not away. 
 
 Take thou my heart and cleanse it, Lord, from guilt ; 
 Take thou my w^ill, O bend it as thou wilt ; 
 And take my mind. Lord, sanctify its thought ; 
 My voice I give to praise thee as I ought. 
 
 Father, accept the offering I make. 
 
 Not for its worth, but O, for Jesus' sake. 
 
 And sanctify my body, mind, and soul. 
 
 Lord, save from guilt, make and preserve me whole. 
 
 February i, 1884, 
 
 THE LORD IS MY LIGHT. 
 
 Inscribed to my blind friend, Miss Mattie E, Timmons, of Carrollton, Ga. 
 
 1KNOW that from these earthly eyes 
 The light has fled away. 
 But with the vision of my soul 
 
 I see the light of day. 
 And cheerfully I onward go 
 
 O'er boundless fields of night. 
 For O, it is so sweet to know ' 
 That Jesus is my Light. 
 
 Chorus. 
 The Lord is my Light, whom shall I fear, 
 Since Jesus my Saviour abideth so near ? 
 
A CHRISTMAS CAROL. 65 
 
 By faith I walk along with him, 
 
 And listen to his voice, 
 To me he's more than all the world, 
 
 While in him I rejoice, 
 His precious blood for me he shed, 
 
 It makes me pure and white. 
 And there is sunshine in my soul, 
 
 For Jesus is my Light 
 
 I trust him as the moments roll 
 
 In never-ebbing tide, 
 I hide beneath his shelt'ring wing. 
 
 And journey at his side ; 
 And when I reach my "Father's house," 
 
 Where faith is lost in sight, 
 I'll sing the praise for evermore 
 
 Of Jesus Christ, my Light. 
 
 Junes, tSqS, 
 
 A, CHRISTMAS CAROL. 
 
 WERE the beaming stars not glad, 
 In the long ago, 
 When the little babe was born 
 
 In the manger low ? 
 When the Christ-child came to earth. 
 Royal King of humble birth. 
 Gladness to bestow ? 
 
 Were the little birds not glad 
 
 When the Saviour came ? 
 Did they not in cheery songs 
 
 Glorify his name? 
 5 
 
66 A RIFT IN THE CLOUDS. 
 
 Did they not in tender lays, 
 And in thrilling notes of praise, 
 Joy to earth proclaim? 
 
 Were not little children glad 
 As they left their play, 
 
 And their dimpled, sandaled feet 
 Ran to where he lay? 
 
 Were their little hearts not glad? 
 
 Aye, they could not have been sad 
 On that Christmas day. 
 
 December 20, i8q8. 
 
 WHO'S TO BLAME? 
 
 THERE'S a cry that rends the air, 
 Who's to blame? who's to blame? 
 From a heart that's in despair. 
 
 Who's to blame? who's to blame? 
 There's a soul in sore distress, 
 Weary of its loneliness. 
 There are none to cheer and bless. 
 Who, O who's to blame ? 
 
 There's a child with naked feet, 
 Who's to blame? who's to bl-ime? 
 
 Running through the snow and sleet, 
 Who's to blame ? who's to blame ? 
 
 With no place to lay its head, 
 
 Hungry for a crust of bread. 
 
 Vainly wishing it was dead, 
 Who, O who's to blame ? 
 
LIFT ME O VER. 67 
 
 There are griefs that you might share, 
 Who's to blame ? who's to blame ? 
 
 Burdens you might help to bear, 
 Who's to blame? who's to blame? 
 
 If no kind word you will speak, 
 
 If you will not help the weak, 
 
 And the lost and erring seek. 
 Who, O who's to blame? 
 
 February 3, iSgg. 
 
 LIFT ME OVER. 
 
 AS a mother lifts her darling. 
 Where it cannot walk alone, 
 Often saving feet of baby 
 
 Rudely dashing 'gainst a stone. 
 So our blessed Heavenly Father 
 
 Lifts his little ones each day 
 O'er the many hidden dangers 
 He may see along the way. 
 
 Chorus. 
 Lift me over, blessed Father, 
 
 Where I am too weak to go ; 
 Gracious Lord, thy loving presence 
 
 Ev'ry moment I would know. 
 
 Many dangers lurk around me. 
 
 And alarm my timid soul, 
 Ofttimes Satan sorely tempts me. 
 
 That I may not reach the goal ; 
 O my Father, lift me over 
 
 Where I have not strength to climb, 
 Let me know, O mighty Helper, 
 
 Thou art with me all the time. 
 
68 A RIFT IN THE CLOUDS, 
 
 Lift me over when the shadows 
 
 Gather so I cannot see, 
 Lift me over when my trials 
 
 Would divide me, Lord, from thee ; 
 Lift me over when I'm standing 
 
 On the brink of death's dark tide ; 
 Then, my Father, lift me over, 
 
 Over to the other side. 
 
 June 3 y i8g8. 
 
 NELLIE. 
 
 Written on Our Little Daughter's Second Birthday. 
 
 WHO is it puts on "poppy's"* hat? 
 Who pets the " goggy "f and the cat? 
 Who is the little blue-eyed brat 
 As full of mischief as a rat? 
 Why, Nellie. 
 
 Who is it, say, who ne'er refuses 
 To walk about in " poppy's " " toosies," 
 Whenever she her "Mamie" J loses, 
 And wants to do just as she chooses? 
 Why, Nellie. 
 
 Who is it likes to walk about, 
 Sometimes indoors and sometimes out, 
 And never seems to have a doubt 
 That she may ever lose the route? 
 Why, Nellie. 
 
 *Papa. tDog. J Doll. 
 
THE CHILD AND THE DAIST. 69 
 
 Who comes to us when we are sad, 
 And laughs and chats till we are glad? 
 Who's almost always on the pad, 
 And is as sweet as she is bad? 
 Why, Nellie. 
 
 Who is it we would teach the way 
 That leads to everlasting day? 
 Who is it for whose soul we pray 
 While she is sleeping or at play? 
 Why, Nellie. 
 
 April, i8gs. 
 
 THE CHILD AND THE DAISY. 
 
 MODESTLY within a dell 
 Hid a daisy out of sight. 
 There it lived content to dwell, 
 Drinking in the dewdrop bright. 
 Basking in the golden light 
 That upon its petals white 
 Softly fell. 
 
 But one morn a little child 
 
 Found and plucked that daisy fair. 
 And she bore it o'er the wild 
 To a woman in despair. 
 . Much this dear one had to bear. 
 Who, though burdened so with care. 
 Sweetly smiled. 
 
 "Precious little lass," said she, 
 
 " Blessings crown thy curly head ! 
 
 May this fragrant memory. 
 When the daisy's odor's shed. 
 
)0 A RIFT IN THE CLOUDS. 
 
 Aye, when youth's young dream hath fled, 
 And I'm lying cold and dead, 
 Comfort thee. 
 
 Would we older ones might know 
 We can light the sullen gloom, 
 
 If our flowers we would grow 
 For life's altar, not death's tomb. 
 And the sweet and rare perfume 
 Of some kindness now abloom, 
 Would bestow. 
 
 BE STILL, MY SOUL. 
 
 BE still, my soul, nor vainly question why 
 It should be thine such anguish to endure. 
 The gold must in the heated furnace lie 
 
 Ere, freed from earthly dross, it comes forth pure. 
 
 The sweetest songs are borne on wings of night ; 
 
 Earth's bosom rent yields up her richest store ; 
 Through error's veil there burns the star of right. 
 
 And truth is far more radiant than before. 
 
 The flower, crushed, pours forth its fragrant breath. 
 And dying yields to earth its sweet perfume. 
 
 And through the portals of unwelcome death. 
 Behold the tree of life doth always bloom ! 
 
 Be still, my soul, nor murmur nor repine. 
 
 Why shouldst thou weep? Thy gloom will soon be 
 past. 
 
 And thou wilt find a sweeter lot is thine 
 Where glory beams, and joys forever last. 
 
 January 4, iSgg. 
 
THE TRANSPLANTED FLOWER. 7 
 
 A MEMORY. 
 
 TWAS in the bright and golden days, 
 Now vanished in the long ago 
 That memory my Muse repays 
 
 And points to her I used to know, 
 A bonnie lass with wealth of hair 
 
 That flowed in waves of burnished gold, 
 And teeth of purest pearl they were. 
 
 Her lips of coral did unfold. 
 Ah, she was fair indeed to me 
 
 No wonder that I loved her so ! 
 No marvel, precious unto me. 
 
 The memories of long ago ; 
 Nor strange that I should prize the light 
 
 Of blue eyes beaming through the years. 
 Though, touched with sadness by the sight. 
 
 My own eyes ofttimes well with tears. 
 But they are now forever gone, 
 
 Those blissful moments once I knew ; 
 And many a cloud has rested on 
 
 And curled its shades o'er skies of blue. 
 The snowy hand I used to grasp 
 
 So lovingly within my own, 
 No longer now I fondly clasp ; 
 
 My dream is o'er, niy hope has flown. 
 
 i88b, probably. 
 
 THE TRANSPLANTED FLOWER. 
 
 In Memory of My Sainted Mother. 
 
 THERE was a flower that bloomed on earth, 
 That God to us had given. 
 But ere we knew its priceless worth, 
 He carried it to heaven. 
 
72 A RIFT IN THE CLOUDS. 
 
 And now no more that flower we see, 
 We once so fondly cherished ; 
 
 But since, Lord, 'twas plucked by thee, 
 We know it hath not perished. 
 
 And if we will but live aright 
 
 In this sad world of care, 
 We'll soar to heaven fair and bright — 
 
 Our flower is blooming there. 
 
 i977' 
 
 "NONE CAN HELP ME BUT MY SAVIOUR." 
 
 Dying Words of My Precious Mother, Sarah Joanna (Ousley) Smith. 
 
 "X TONE can help me but my Saviour," 
 
 1 N Were the words my mother said. 
 As upon the Master's bosom 
 Wearily she laid her head. 
 
 Ah, she knew that none could help her. 
 None but Christ could give her rest ; 
 
 That is why she slept so sweetly 
 On the gentle Shepherd's breast. 
 
 Sleep thou on, my darling mother ! 
 
 Sweetly rest from all thy pain ! 
 Could we know thy tranquil pleasure. 
 
 Would we wish thee back again } 
 
 Sleep, for down}'^ is thy pillow, 
 
 Deep and undisturbed thy rest ; 
 For, dear mother, thou art sleeping 
 
 Ever on thy Saviour's breast ! 
 
 / am almost sura I vjroie the original in 1881. R. O. S. 
 
w 
 
 THE WOLF AT THE DOOR. 73 
 
 THOSE EYES OF THINE. 
 ITHIN old ocean's restless breast 
 
 Doth many a pearly beauty rest, 
 But none beneath its flowing brine 
 Can equal those fond eyes of thine. 
 
 Decking the dusky brow of Night 
 Gleams many a star gem's radiant light, 
 But even stars can never shine, 
 As beams those matchless eyes of thine. 
 
 My gentle friend, when thou from here 
 Shalt wing thy way to heav'nly sphere, 
 O may thy crown with jewels shine 
 As bright as those loved eyes of thine. 
 
 Written firobably in 1864. 
 
 THE WOLF AT THE DOOR. 
 
 PAPA, I heard mamma say 
 The wolf is at the door. 
 I hope he soon will go away 
 
 For we're so very poor 
 That I'm afraid if he broke in 
 
 And couldn't find a bite 
 He wouldn't think it any sin 
 To eat us up to-night. 
 
 We once had such a happy home. 
 
 And all of us was glad ; 
 That old wolf wouldn't dare to come. 
 
 O papa, it's too bad 
 
74 A RIFT IN THE CLOUDS. 
 
 To see poor mamma so thin and gray 
 While you are growing thicker, 
 
 She says she'll keep the wolf away 
 If you keep 'way from liquor. 
 
 January, i8gg. 
 
 "MY PRESENCE SHALL GO WITH THEE. ' 
 
 MY presence shall go with thee," 
 O precious words to me ! 
 Wh rever I may journey, 
 O'er land or stormy sea, 
 I feel the sweet assurance, 
 
 Still dwelling in my breast : 
 " My presence shall go with thee, 
 And I will give thee rest." 
 
 " My presence shall go with thee ; " 
 
 O words so \vondrous sweet ! 
 The balmy winds, and babbling brooks 
 
 Their melody repeat. 
 I read them in each beaming star. 
 
 In silvery lines expressed : 
 " My presence shall go with thee. 
 
 And I will give thee rest." 
 
 " My presence shall go with thee ;" 
 
 Then let the shadows come, 
 For God is ever with me, 
 
 And he will guide me home ; 
 By faith I hear him saying. 
 
 While leaning on his breast: 
 " My presence shall go with thee, 
 
 And I will give thee rest." 
 
BESTING. 75 
 
 " My presence shall go with thee," 
 
 How great is my reward 
 To know in sorrow's night tide, 
 
 I still may have my Lord! 
 In living or in dying, 
 
 I'll trust his promise blest : 
 " My presence shall go with thee, 
 
 And I will give thee rest." 
 
 June /, i8g8. 
 
 RESTING. 
 
 This poem is free to all who desire to use it for the glory of God. R. O. 
 Smith. 
 
 1'AM resting, sweetly resting. 
 Pillowed on my Saviour's breast ; 
 In the arms of Jesus cradled. 
 Calmly, peacefully I rest ; 
 Trusting in his strength to hold me. 
 As his blessed arms infold me, 
 And in trusting I am blessed. 
 
 Resting in the arms of Jesus ! 
 
 Hark ! I seem to hear his voice, 
 As he says in tender accents : 
 
 " Evermore thou mayst rejoice." 
 And a peace that's like a river 
 Fills me, thrills me with its quiver. 
 
 As his will I make my choice. 
 
 Resting in the arms of Jesus ! 
 
 Never rest so sweet as this ! 
 Stronger than death and the grave is, 
 
 Softer than a zephyr's kiss ! 
 
76 A RIFT IN THE CLOUDS. 
 
 Filling all my soul with pleasure, 
 Jesus' love my clearest treasure, 
 Saving grace, my endless bliss ! 
 
 August, 1883, 
 
 BLESSED IS THE NATION WHOSE GOD 
 IS THE LORD. 
 
 (Ps. xxxiii. 12.) 
 
 BLESSED is the nation whose God is the Lord," 
 And happy the people who trust in his word ! 
 The Lord shall be with them, to comfort and cheer. 
 To shield them from danger and save them from fear. 
 
 " Blessed is the nation whose God is the Lord ! " 
 Who praise their Creator with sweetest accord, 
 For God as the mountains doth girdle them round, 
 And with them his strength and his glory abound. 
 
 Blessed be the nation whose God is the Lord, 
 And find in his presence their richest reward. 
 Our God will defend them from danger and sin. 
 And soon with the ransomed will gather them in. 
 
 June /, i8q8. 
 
 LOOK UP! 
 
 OHOPE of mine, look up! 
 There is a way 
 Where no fierce lion roams. 
 Nor from his lair e'er comes 
 In search of prey. 
 
THE MOCKING BIRD. 77 
 
 O faith of mine, look up ! 
 
 Cleave thou to God, 
 Nor shrink when from above, 
 The Father sends in love 
 
 His chast'ning rod. 
 
 O love of mine, look up! 
 
 God is not dead ; 
 He clothes the flow'ry mead, 
 He doth the sparrow feed 
 
 On choicest bread. 
 
 O soul of mine, look up ! 
 
 Though fires should glow, 
 And with their tongues of flame 
 And heated breath proclaim 
 
 Naught save of woe — 
 
 Thank God ! there still remains, 
 
 While tears increase. 
 Beauteous with many dyes. 
 There spans grief's starless skies, 
 
 The bow of peace. 
 
 i8qs. 
 
 THE MOCKING BIRD. 
 
 WITH a quiver and a trill. 
 In thy voice so wondrous sweet, 
 Ringing over vale and hill 
 
 Music for the angels meet, 
 Sing thy mellow notes of praise. 
 Through the gliding nights and days 
 Warble out thy rival lays. 
 
7^ A RIFT IN THE CLOUDS. 
 
 May no ruthless archer's dart 
 
 Pierce thy downy little breast ! 
 May no cruel urchin's heart 
 
 Covet thy sequestered nest ! 
 Sing of safety and of cheer, 
 Sing in joyous notes and clear 
 Symphonies that God will hear. 
 
 Bathe thy wing in sea of light, 
 Soar athwart the azure sky, 
 
 Of thee let the poet write. 
 
 Though thy charms his Muse defy ; 
 
 Make the leafy woodland ring, 
 
 For I know no bird awing 
 
 Can such strains of rapture sing. 
 
 December 14, i8g8. 
 
 THE NEWS. 
 
 THE sentimental days have gone, 
 Love's rosy dream is o'er, 
 And life is now more practical 
 
 Than e'er it was before ; 
 And poetry is getting stale. 
 
 It makes us have the blues ; 
 It is the news we call for now, 
 The news, the news, the news ! 
 
 How oft when walking by the side 
 
 Of one we dearly love, 
 The words that float from ruby lips. 
 
 Sincerity to prove. 
 
THE NEWS. 79 
 
 We fail to hear, unheeding all, 
 
 The melody we lose. 
 As in our anxious tones we ask, 
 
 My love, what's all the news? 
 
 And often, too, when cold and rain 
 
 Shut us within our room. 
 When all within is noise and life. 
 
 And all without is gloom. 
 When to our ears from down the hall 
 
 Comes pat of little shoes. 
 We even stop the children's sports 
 
 That we may read the news. 
 
 And oft when passing down the street, 
 
 A friend we see of ours. 
 And though we're busy as the bee 
 
 That flits among the flow'rs. 
 He says, " Come in, sit awhile," 
 
 Of course we can't refuse ; 
 " Now, neighbor, you must spend the day 
 
 And tell me all the news." 
 
 And now and then we go to church, 
 
 As all good people should, 
 And strive in such a sinful world 
 
 To do some little good ; 
 And ah ! too often while we sit 
 
 Upon our cushioned pews, 
 The preacher's voice we scarcely hear 
 
 For thinking of the news. 
 
 The sailor, tired of the sea. 
 
 Strikes on his native shore. 
 And soon as e'er that wife of his 
 
 Has met him at the door. 
 
So A RIFT IN THE CLOUDS. 
 
 'Tis " How are you, my husband dear? 
 
 So glad youVe made the cruise ! 
 I'm so rejoiced to see you home ! 
 
 Now tell me all the news. 
 
 The newsboy runs along the street, 
 
 And shouts as on he goes. 
 And, though he's chilled by cold and sleet 
 
 Till redder than a rose, 
 Yet faithfully from day to day 
 
 He seeks to earn his dues. 
 By yelling loudly as he runs, 
 
 " The news ! Come buy the news !" 
 
 The news ! the news ! the news ! the news ! 
 
 We hear it ev'ry day ; 
 Good news, bad news, all sorts of news. 
 
 From near and far away. 
 Wherever we may cast our lot. 
 
 Whatever spot we choose, 
 We hear the same old eager cry : 
 
 " The news ! what's all the news ? " 
 
 The news ! ah me ! how many times 
 
 It makes our tears to start, 
 And by its pow'r it wrings and breaks 
 
 Full many a joyous heart. 
 But though it sometimes gives us pain. 
 
 It often doth amuse ; 
 But I must close, for, really, I 
 
 Must go and read the news. 
 
 December 2S, 1882, 
 
LITTLE EMP TT SHOES, 5 1 
 
 AT SET OF SUN. 
 
 I'M weary holding life's entangled skein, 
 And counting strands that vanish one by one ; 
 I ofttimes feel my task has been in vain, 
 But I shall understand at set of sun ! 
 
 I wend my way o'er dreary wastes of sand, 
 And almost wish life's weary march was done, 
 
 I strain mine eyes to see the far-off land — 
 Perhaps one day I shall, at set of sun ! 
 
 O life's sweet hopes ! I bid you all adieu ; 
 
 Like golden sands too swiftly ye have run, 
 Down the dim-lighted past, till lost to view — 
 
 I shall be satisfied, at set of sun ! 
 
 January 8, iSgg. 
 
 LITTLE EMPTY SHOES MY BABY USED 
 TO WEAR.* 
 
 THERE is a precious memory, 
 'Tis very sweet to me ! 
 A vision fair of little feet 
 
 I often used to see. 
 While on these tiny treasures fall, 
 
 A mother's sacred tear ; 
 I love these little empty shoes 
 My baby used to wear. 
 
 ♦This poem is used by permission of Mr. Charlie D. Tillman, the owner of 
 the copyright. Set to music. The price is twenty cents, postpaid. It may be 
 ordered of the author of this book, at Winterville, Ga., or of C. D. Tillman, 
 Atlanta, Ga. 
 
 6 
 
82 A RIFT IN THE CLOUDS, 
 
 How oft I've prayed that baby's feet 
 
 Might never, never stray ! 
 That God w^ould give the needful help 
 
 To keep them in the way. 
 God bless these little chubby feet, 
 
 How oft has been my prayer ! 
 No wonder that I love so well 
 
 These shoes he used to wear. 
 
 O, ever-precious little shoes. 
 
 With soles so worn and thin. 
 With holes worn through the little toes, 
 
 And linings torn within. 
 With here and there a vacant space 
 
 Where buttons did appear, 
 Dear to my heart, these little shoes 
 
 My baby used to wear ! 
 
 My baby now no more I see, 
 
 But oft I think him nigh ; 
 I seem to hear his ringing voice, 
 
 And see his laughing eye ; 
 I seem his ruby lips to kiss. 
 
 And stroke his golden hair; 
 A flood of memories ye bring. 
 
 Dear shoes he used to wear. 
 
 Farewell, farewell, my baby dear, 
 
 Until again we meet. 
 And I shall hear the "pitty pat," 
 
 Of rosy little feet, 
 As down the streets of shining gold 
 
 In heaven bright and fair. 
 No more to weep o'er little shoes 
 
 My baby used to wear. 
 
 iSqs or iSgd, probably. 
 
TO A BROTHER BELOVED. 83 
 
 TO A BROTHER BELOVED. 
 
 [WOULD not wound thee, noble friend, 
 Nor give thy heart one pain, 
 Nor on thy reputation fair 
 
 Would cast a single stain ; 
 My love for thee is strong and true. 
 
 And pure as Luna's rays, 
 And O, I fondly pray that joy 
 May crown thee all thy days ! 
 
 I do not envy thee, my friend. 
 
 Nor would a green leaf take, 
 From laurel wreath that crowns thy brow. 
 
 Nor would I even break 
 A rose that blooms beside thy way, 
 
 Nor crush a daisy fair ; 
 But kiss the sod that gives them life, 
 
 And leave them blooming there. 
 
 I see, but not as thou, my friend ; 
 
 My God doth not appear, 
 A monarch seated on a throne. 
 
 Inflexible, austere, 
 But God is tenderness and love. 
 
 He hears the raven's cry. 
 Nor leaves it in its helplessness 
 
 To suffer and to die. 
 
 The bruised reed he doth not break. 
 
 Nor quench the smoking flax. 
 And shoulders bowed 'neath weight of care 
 
 His hand doth ne'er o'ertax ; 
 
§4 A RIFT IN THE CLOUDS. 
 
 His heart doth kindly feel for me, 
 He wipes away each tear, 
 
 He draws me to his gentle breast. 
 And quiets ev'ry fear. 
 
 God is my Father, and to me 
 
 Reveals a Father's face ; 
 By faith I see its holy light. 
 
 And rest in his embrace. 
 Like as a father pitieth 
 
 His children round his knee. 
 So God, with more than father-love 
 
 Doth pity even me! 
 
 I love thee, friend, and grieve that thou 
 
 Dost so confuse the mind 
 That souls for whom the Saviour died 
 
 Should fail their Christ to find ; 
 I love thee ; but, good as thou art, 
 
 Yet faultless thou art not ; 
 Know more of God in Christ revealed. 
 
 Be this thy happy lot. 
 
 To see the heart is not enough, 
 
 Christ must be lifted up ; 
 His pierced hand alone can fill 
 
 Faith's high-uplifted cup. 
 Discourage not the storm -tossed soul, 
 
 For O there is a balm. 
 It floweth now from CalvVy's brow — 
 
 Behold, behold, the Lamb ! 
 
 December ig, i8gj. 
 
THE RINGLET. 85 
 
 FATE. 
 
 YO 6^ quaff the wine of joy, 
 The dregs are 7nine ; 
 Tours is the sunny smile, 
 
 Mine to repine ; 
 Ton hail the rising sun, 
 
 The night / see ; 
 Y or you fair roses bloom. 
 Thorns are for me. 
 
 Not oft perplexing care 
 
 Frowneth on you ; 
 Mine is the daily cry, 
 
 What shall I do? 
 Varied these lots of ours 
 
 On earth are cast. 
 Fate will her tangled skein 
 
 Unwind at last. 
 
 December iS, i8(fj. 
 
 THE RINGLET. 
 
 IN an album, on my table. 
 Braided with the sweetest care. 
 Well-nigh hidden 'neath a picture, 
 Lies a curl of golden hair. 
 
 How it came there? Well, I'll tell you. 
 Since you seem to wish to know. 
 
 Once there lived a gentle maiden. 
 Pure as is the driven snow. 
 
S6 A RIFT IN THE CLOUDS. 
 
 Brow had she as fair as marble, 
 Eyes that rivaled heaven's blue, 
 
 Hair of sunshine, cheeks of roses, 
 Lips of coral — this will do. 
 
 For her ear can never hear it. 
 Sleeps her body 'neath the sod. 
 
 Lies her ringlet in my album, 
 But her spirit dwells with God. 
 
 And if ever I shall see her. 
 In her home so wondrous fair, 
 
 I'll be guided to my darling. 
 By this tress of golden hair. 
 
 Writteti at about the age of eighteen. 
 
 O TAKE ME IN. 
 
 I BRING thee. Lord, a blighted life. 
 So marred by sin and worldly strife, 
 A tangled skein of weary years, 
 I bring to thee all wet with tears. 
 
 Chorus. 
 O take me in ! Lord, take me in, 
 Out of this stormy night of sin ! 
 Lord, make my guilty conscience clean ; 
 O blessed Jesus, take me in ! 
 
 I bring thee, Lord, a weary mind ; 
 May it thy consolation find, 
 And from its anxious thought be free. 
 And find its long-sought rest in thee ! 
 
CANNOT I TRUST? 87 
 
 I bring thee, Lord, a sinful heart, 
 With all its idols now to part ; 
 
 cleanse it now from evVy sin, 
 And make it beautiful within ! 
 
 1 bring thee, Lord, a burdened soul ; 
 
 make my broken spirit whole ! 
 
 1 would from ev'ry care be free. 
 And lose myself, my God, in thee. 
 
 December so, i8qj. 
 
 CANNOT I TRUST? 
 
 CANNOT I trust? 
 The flower's lips 
 The sparkling dews 
 
 Of morning sips. 
 The bird pours forth 
 Its notes of cheer 
 And mindful seems 
 That God is near. 
 
 Cannot I trust? 
 
 The flock rejoice 
 To hear their gentle 
 
 Shepherd's voice ; 
 O'er craggy mount 
 
 Or fragrant mead 
 They go content 
 
 If He doth lead. 
 
 Cannot I trust? 
 
 The tiny fly 
 Doth not escape 
 
 The Father's eye ; 
 
88 A RIFT IN THE CLOUDS. 
 
 But it doth have 
 His watchful care, 
 
 And doth his royal 
 Bounty share. 
 
 Cannot I trust? 
 
 I can, I will. 
 My hungry heart 
 
 Thou yet wilt fill 
 With all the fullness 
 
 Of thy grace, 
 And I shall see thee 
 
 Face to face. 
 
 June 22, i8go. 
 
 PICKING CHERRIES. 
 
 I REMEMBER when a lad, 
 Of the merry times I had, 
 Picking cherries ; 
 Often high above the ground. 
 Hidden by the leaves around. 
 Such a haven I had found, 
 Picking cherries. 
 
 Oft I heard my mother call, 
 But I answered not at all, 
 
 Picking cherries ; 
 Though she called me o'er and o'er, 
 Long and louder than before, 
 I was silent to the core. 
 
 Picking cherries. 
 
COMPENSATION. 89 
 
 thou dear old cherry tree ! 
 Happy hours I spent in thee, 
 
 Picking cherries ! 
 And e'en now at set of sun, 
 
 1 at least declare for one, 
 Never boy had richer fun, 
 
 Picking cherries. 
 
 Jatiuary 2, i8gg. 
 
 COMPENSATION. 
 
 THERE'S a joy for ev'ry sorrow, 
 There's a balm for ev'ry pain ; 
 There's a sunbeam for each teardrop. 
 Cleansing for each dismal stain. 
 
 There's a light for ev'ry shadow, 
 There's a laugh for ev'ry cry, 
 
 There's a smile for ev'ry heartache, 
 There is comfort for each sigh. 
 
 There's a sweet for ev'ry bitter, 
 There's a help for ev'ry need. 
 
 There's a rainbow for each storm cloud. 
 Comfort true for hearts that bleed. 
 
 There's a rest for all our labor. 
 There's a gain for ev'ry loss. 
 
 Greeting for each tearful parting, 
 There's a crown for ev'ry cross. 
 
 There's a harbor for the storm-tossed. 
 
 Music in each sad refrain. 
 Laurel wreath for ev'ry victor. 
 
 Gorgeous sunshine after rain. 
 
9^ A RIFT IN THE CLOUDS. 
 
 There's a lesson in each failure, 
 There's success for those who try, 
 
 There is hope for the despairing, 
 And there's heaven by and by. 
 
 November ly, i8q8. 
 
 THE STRANGE VISITOR. 
 
 HE stood at my door in the pitiless cold. 
 And weary and worn was He ; 
 His face was so pale, and His garments were old, 
 A shelter He asked of me. 
 
 I cheerfully bade Him come into my cot ; 
 
 My board before Him I spread ; 
 I silently wept o'er His piteous lot. 
 
 And shared Him my humble bed. 
 
 In the early morn, ere He hastened away, 
 
 On my hand there gleamed a tear, 
 'Twas the glistening pearl that He had to pay ; 
 
 He went, but I know not where. 
 
 The evening drew on, and behold in my sleep 
 
 I dreamed — I thought I could see 
 That poor man was Christ — how his words made 
 me weep ! 
 
 "Ye have done it unto Me." 
 
 December 2i, i8g8. 
 
 OPEN THE WINDOWS. 
 
 OPEN the windows ! sunlight is streaming, 
 Glad'ning the world with shimmering sheen ; 
 O'er mountains and valleys brightly 'tis beaming. 
 Kissing the earth in her raiment of green. 
 
TO ONE IN BEREA VEMENT. 
 
 Chorus. 
 Open the windows ! let in the sunshine ! 
 
 Open the windows to-day ! 
 Shadows as dark as night 
 Flee at the rosy light ; 
 
 Sunshine will drive them away. 
 
 Open the windows ! let in the sunlight ! 
 
 Shadows will flee at the smile of the day ; 
 Griefs now as dark as the folds of the midnight, 
 
 Sunshine of gladness will soon drive away. 
 
 Open the windows ! Do not be weary. 
 
 Sunlight will banish thy sorrow and care, 
 It lingers to brighten hearts that are dreary. 
 
 Open the windows of faith and of prayer. 
 
 June 2, i8g8. 
 
 TO ONE IN BEREAVEMENT. 
 
 AS rosy morn, with flashing wing. 
 Doth swiftly waft the shades away. 
 And from the womb of night doth spring 
 
 The radiant, gladsome child of day — 
 So may the morn of some sweet hope, 
 
 Though all unseen by tear-dimmed eyes. 
 Waft back the shades through which you grope. 
 
 And spread its luster o'er thy skies — 
 Aye, from the mists that round thee steal. 
 
 May some sweet child of promise come. 
 Who, wafting back grief's shadows, will 
 
 Thy sad heart cheer with thoughts of home ! 
 
2 A RIFT IN THE CLOUDS. 
 
 THE PARTING KISS. 
 
 MY darling, I shall go away, 
 But wilt thou grant me this, 
 Not diamonds rare nor rubies gay, 
 But just a parting kiss? 
 Chorus. 
 Yes, she slapped me in the face ! 
 And I thought it out of place, 
 And a manifest disgrace ; 
 
 That this saucy little maiden dared 
 To slap me in the face. 
 
 My darling, I have loved thee long. 
 
 So fill my heart with bliss. 
 By singing me a little song, 
 
 And give one parting kiss. 
 
 My darling, soon the train will blow 
 
 I can't afford to miss ; 
 So press thy lips to mine ; and O, 
 
 Give me a parting kiss ! 
 Then she gracefully arose 
 
 And I kissed the blushing face ; 
 And I say this at the close. 
 
 That she slapped me in the face ! 
 
 The original was 7vritten -when I -was about sixteen years of age. 
 
 IN MEMORY OF LITTLE WINTER. 
 
 COULD I but hear one note of thy sweet voice. 
 My heart would leap with gladness, and rejoice. 
 Speak, darling, then, in tones so clear and mild ; 
 O let me hear thy voice, my darling child ! 
 As once I heard it like a silver bell, 
 Holding my very soul in raptured spell. 
 
GOD IS FOR ME. 93 
 
 O for a touch of that dear hand of thine ! 
 
 Could I but clasp it once again in mine, 
 
 Or feel thy baby touch upon my cheek, 
 
 My heart would thrill with joy no tongue could speak. 
 
 Come, darling then ! Haste from the far-off land, 
 
 And stroke my tear-stained face with thy love 1 hand. 
 
 Could I but catch one glimpse of thy blue eyes 
 
 As soft and beautiful as summer skies ; 
 
 Could they but fondly gaze into my own, 
 
 I ne'er would feel so sorrowful and lone, 
 
 O baby, look this once into my eyes. 
 
 And fill my breaking heart with glad surprise. 
 
 Could I but feel one kiss from thy sweet mouth 
 Come soft as zephyr from the far-off South, 
 For very joy these pent-up tears would flow ; 
 Come darling, come ! and kiss me ere you go ; 
 Haste then, dear love! for ne'er can earthly bliss 
 He half so sweet as little Winter's kiss. 
 
 Thou dost not come, or else I cannot see 
 How very near, my babe, thou art to me ; 
 It may be now thy sainted, radiant form 
 Shines as a brilliant star, e'en in the storm 
 Of midnight sorrow, that on heaven's shore 
 Shall sweep in fury never, nevermore ! 
 
 i8q3. 
 
 GOD IS FOR ME. 
 
 A THOUSAND conflicts now oppress me, 
 A thousand anxious cares distress me, 
 But soon the light of heaven will bless me, 
 For God is for me. 
 
94 ^ RIFT IN THE CLOUDS, 
 
 I know not why my heart should bleed so, 
 I cannot tell why I should need so, 
 While my poor soul yearns to be freed so ; 
 But God Is for me. 
 
 What though afflictions' sword should cleave me? 
 What though the dearest friends should grieve me ? 
 One Friend is true, and will not leave me : 
 My God is for me. 
 
 One day my soul, so tempest driven, 
 By sorrow's stroke so often riven. 
 Will find a happy home in heaven. 
 For God is for me. 
 
 iSq-j or i8g8. ■ 
 
 TO NELLIE SMITH ON THE SECOND AN- 
 NIVERSARY OF HER BIRTHDAY. 
 
 TWO years ago, our pretty little Nell, 
 You dropped into our lives as sunlight dreams. 
 In golden glory waking by its spell 
 
 Into new life where fall its gorgeous beams. 
 
 To-night, our darling, while you sweetly sleep. 
 Unconscious that the great world knows a care. 
 
 May heav'nly angels their fond vigils keep. 
 
 And shield thee, love, from danger ! is our prayer. 
 
 May the good Father spare you, precious child. 
 Our lives to gladden, but to shadow never, 
 
 O may he keep you, darling, undefiled, 
 Until we live and love in God's forever. 
 
 Dublin^ Ga., April 23, j8q4. 
 
Mr PLACE. 9^ 
 
 KEEP NOT YOUR FLOWERS. 
 
 KEEP not your flowers for my new-made grave, 
 But, brother, bring them now ; 
 My heart a laurel wreath would never crave 
 To crown a dead man's brow. 
 
 Ye hands that soon may bear me to the tomb, 
 
 O clasp my hands to-day, 
 And plant a violet or rose to bloom 
 
 Beside a thorny wa}'. 
 
 The word I wait so eagerly to hear, 
 
 To-day, my brother, speak, 
 And help me now my heavy load to bear, 
 
 For I am faint and weak. 
 
 Wait not till I shall sleep my last long sleep 
 
 On narrow bed of clay. 
 But while grief's darksome shadows round me creep, 
 
 O bring your flowers to-day ! 
 
 MY PLACE*. 
 
 Affectionately inscribed to my father, Rev. George G. Smith, D.D. 
 
 SOME may be great, but as for me., dear Lord, 
 My chosen place is at thy pierced feet, 
 Where, Marylike, I love to sit me down. 
 And weep to think /am not even meet 
 One kiss of sweet forgiveness to entreat. 
 
 Some may be rich, and from earth's lavish lap 
 Gather her richest treasures ; as for me, 
 
 O Christ, my God and King, my portion be. 
 It is enough to have thee ever mine. 
 And know, my Saviour, I am wholly thine. 
 
9^ A RIFT IN THE CLOUDS. 
 
 Some may be good, and tell of heights attained 
 In Christian walk these falt'ring feet ne'er trod, 
 
 But as for w<?, I'm prostrate in the dust. 
 Humbly I fall at thy dear feet, O God, 
 Content to have thy smile or chast'ning rod. 
 
 My sphere is in the province of thy will ; 
 
 No other path I'd tread save thy dear way ; 
 No other voice I'd hear save thy sweet voice ; 
 
 No other power know save thy blest sway ; 
 
 Thou art my Potter, I'm the yielding clay. 
 
 January zi, i8qo. 
 
 TO MRS. McL., A BRIDE. 
 
 IN the new life you are living, 
 Let me say. 
 Be more loving and forgiving, 
 
 Day by day. 
 Life is not a path of posies ; 
 
 You will find 
 Thorns among its sweetest roses ; 
 
 Never mind, 
 But be faithful, kind, and true ; 
 Life has many sweets for you. 
 
 There's a heaven that bends above you ; 
 
 From its blue 
 Gazes One who truly loves you ; 
 
 He is true ; 
 Trust to him thy ev'ry sorrow till he come, 
 And some sweet and bright to-morrow 
 
 Call thee home. 
 
 November, i8gb. 
 
JO r IN Mr SA vio ur. 97 
 
 HEART YEARNINGS. 
 
 MY soul is panting to be free 
 From all its carnal load, 
 And fathom the immensity 
 Of all the love of God. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 feed my soul ! Lord, feed my soul 
 With manna from on high ; 
 
 1 hunger after righteousness ; 
 Lord, feed me or I die ! 
 
 I walk when I should swiftly run, 
 
 And run when I should fly, 
 O Christ, my Lord, thou mighty One, 
 
 Come help me or I die ! 
 
 O quickly break each cursed chain 
 
 That keeps my soul away 
 From all the heights of ecstasy 
 
 It yearns to find in thee. 
 
 Help me to scale the holy height 
 
 Of pure and perfect love. 
 And, dwelling ever in thy light, 
 
 I'll reign with thee above. 
 
 December^ iSgy. 
 The above is the property of W. S. Weeden, of New York City. 
 
 JOY IN MY SAVIOUR. 
 
 JESUS my Saviour, O help me to love thee 
 With all my strength of mind and of soul. 
 Make me as pure as the stars high above me, 
 Help me forever thy glory extol. 
 
 7 
 
98 A RIFT IN THE CLOUDS. 
 
 Why should I seek for the world and its pleasures, 
 Since I may claim thee, my Jesus, as mine? 
 
 Were I possessor of earth and its treasures. 
 Could I be happier since I am thine? 
 
 Fairer thou art than the sons of the morning-, 
 
 Sweeter than honey Immanuel's name. 
 And beaming the crown thy fair brow adorning, 
 
 Jesus my Saviour forever the same. 
 Let heaven and earth delight to adore thee. 
 
 Worthy of all adoration thou art, 
 While angels above their crowns cast before thee. 
 
 Thou theme of my praise and joy of my heart. 
 
 Joyous my soul in this conscious salvation. 
 
 Purchased for me by thy blood, precious Lord, 
 Happy am I in the sweet consolation, 
 
 I'm drinking to-day from the fount of thy Word. 
 How sweet to abide so near thee, my Saviour, 
 
 List'ning by faith to thy comforting voice, 
 Dearest of treasures thy excellent favor. 
 
 Sweetest of pleasures in thee to rejoice, 
 
 June II, i8g8. 
 
 BEAUTIFUL YEARS. 
 
 OWH AT have I done with the beautiful years ? 
 Like swift-flying birds they have flown ; 
 How vain would I plead their return with my tears. 
 From the past, to which they have gone ! 
 
 Chorus. 
 O beautiful years ! youth's bright, happy years ! 
 
 So woven with sunshine, and sparkling with tears ! 
 No more ye'll return, and my sad heart must mourn. 
 
 The loss of my beautiful, beautiful years ! 
 
BABT'S ONL T S WEE TL T SLEEPING. 99 
 
 O beautiful years when, a rosy-cheeked child, 
 
 I knelt at the close of the day, 
 My pure lips repeated in tones soft and mild 
 
 The prayer mother taught me to pray. 
 
 the beautiful years of youth's rosy dream. 
 My heart was a stranger to care ! 
 
 1 can never forget how bright was the gleam 
 
 Of castles I built in the air. 
 
 O beautiful years of life's ruddy prime. 
 
 Now held in the spell of the past ! 
 While swiftly I'm borne on the current of time 
 
 Swept on by adversity's blast. 
 
 O Father, forgive that the beautiful years 
 
 I wasted in folly and sin ; 
 Regard, blessed Lord, my petitions and tears, 
 
 And take the poor prodigal in. 
 
 i8qb, I think. 
 
 BABY'S ONLY SWEETLY SLEEPING. 
 
 BABY'S only sweetly sleeping 
 In his tiny narrow bed ; 
 But he'll waken on the morrow, 
 
 For I know he is not dead. 
 O'er his precious little body 
 Daisies beautiful and fair, 
 Violets and clover blossoms. 
 
 Waft their fragrance on the air. 
 
 Baby's only sweetly sleeping ! 
 Calm and beautiful his rest 
 As he lies in snowy casket. 
 
 Dimpled hands across his breast, 
 LofC. 
 
[OO A RIFT IN THE CLOUDS. 
 
 And the bright eyes of our darling, 
 Hide beneath their curtains white, 
 
 But they'll open in the morning 
 And behold the golden light. 
 
 Baby's only sweetly sleeping, 
 
 Free from sorrow, free from pain, 
 But I soon will hear the music 
 
 Of his cheery laugh again ; 
 Soon I'll clasp my precious baby 
 
 In these arms that miss him so. 
 For he is not dead but sleeping. 
 
 And he'll wake again, I know. 
 
 Baby's only sweetly sleeping ! 
 
 Why, O why then do I weep? 
 Sweet and precious little darling, 
 
 O how calm thy dreamless sleep ! 
 Ever guarded in thy slumber, 
 
 By the angels pure and white, 
 I will greet thee when thou wakest ; 
 
 Sweetly sleep — Good night ! Good night ! 
 
 May i8, i8gS. 
 
 "MY SWEET MOTHER WON'T CRY ANY 
 MORE." 
 
 A little boy was heard saying these words soon after the death of his 
 mother. 
 
 M 
 
 Y mother lies so still to-night 
 
 Beneath the daisies pure and white. 
 
 Her gentle hands fold on her breast ; 
 Her weary feet are now at rest. 
 
PRECIOUS THE PROMISES, ipi 
 
 Chorus. 
 Dear mother won't cry any more, any more ; 
 Her weeping and sorrow forever are o'er ; 
 Her slumber is sweeter than ever before ; 
 My sweet, gentle mother won't cry any more. 
 
 how I miss my mother dear ! 
 Sometimes I fancy she is near ; 
 
 1 seem to see her as of yore. 
 
 And wait to hear her speak once more. 
 
 Her voice was mild as breath of June, 
 Her cheery smile as bright as noon. 
 Her kisses fragrant as the flowers, 
 Her crystal tears like April showers. 
 
 To-night she sleeps 'neath starlit skies, 
 O for a glance of her fond eyes ! 
 O for a kiss from her sweet lips ! 
 One touch from those cold finger tips ! 
 
 But by and by the morn will break. 
 And, mother, darling, thou wilt wake ! 
 Aye, waken nevermore to weep ; 
 Till then in Jesus sweetly sleep. 
 
 April, i8q8. 
 
 PRECIOUS THE PROMISES. 
 
 PRECIOUS the promises 
 Jesus hath given, 
 Guideboards along the way 
 Pointing to heaven. 
 
^02 A RIFT IN THE CLOUDS, 
 
 Chorus. 
 Precious the promises ! 
 
 Purer than gold 
 God's blessed promises 
 
 Never grow old. 
 
 Precious the promises ! 
 
 Beauteous and bright, 
 Beaming as stars on 
 
 The bosom of night. 
 
 Precious the promises ! 
 
 Purer than gold 
 Joys of eternity 
 
 Soon to unfold. 
 
 Precious the promises ! 
 
 Fadeless and pure ; 
 When time shall be no more, 
 
 They will endure. 
 
 Precious the promises ! 
 
 Pointing above ; 
 Gifts of our blessed Lord, 
 
 Proofs of his love. 
 
 June 21, iSgS. 
 
 CONSECRATION. 
 
 ALL my will I give to Jesus ; 
 O to have Him choose my way ! 
 Help me yield to Him my service 
 Ev'ry moment, ev'ry day. 
 
KEEP ME, LORD. 1 03 
 
 All my mind I give to Jesus, 
 For Him be my ev'ry thought ; 
 
 He hath taken my transgressions, 
 With His blood my pardon bought. 
 
 All my heart I give to Jesus ; 
 
 May He fill it w^ith His love ! 
 And when life's short dream is ended 
 
 Let me dwell with him above. 
 
 KEEP ME, LORD. 
 
 KEEP me. Lord, though fierce the conflict 
 And the cannons' awful roar. 
 Out upon life's fields of carnage 
 Keep me till the battle's o'er. 
 Father, place thy arm around me, 
 
 Draw me nearer to thy side ; 
 Great Jehovah, be my refuge. 
 In thy shadow, let me hide. - 
 
 See the hosts of hell advancing 
 
 Pressing hard upon my soul ! 
 See the anger-laden war clouds 
 
 O'er me in their fury roll ! 
 Hark ! the mocking of the tempter 
 
 Seeking hard my soul to gain, 
 God of battles, save, O save me ! 
 
 Wilt thou let me cry in vain } 
 
 Blessed Father, thou art near me, 
 
 Though I cannot see thy face, 
 And amidst the storm of conflict 
 
 Dost sustain me by thy grace ; 
 
I04 A RIFT IN THE CLOUDS. 
 
 Soon the warfare will be over 
 And the victor's crown I'll win ; 
 
 Thou art leading on to conquest ; 
 Right will conquer over sin. 
 
 Then from out the smoke of battle 
 
 And the din and heat of strife, 
 I'll exchange my battered armor 
 
 For the star-gemmed crown of life, 
 And in sweetest adoration 
 
 Evermore thy praise I'll sing, 
 God of victory and glory. 
 
 Saviour, Master, Lord, and King ! 
 
 November IT, i8q8. 
 
 OUT FROM—INTO. 
 
 0\]'Y from the gloom and the shadow, 
 Into the sunlight of love ; 
 Out from the gloaming of sorrow. 
 Into the glories above. 
 
 Out from the reach of the tempter. 
 
 Into the heavenly fold ; 
 Out from all weeping and anguish. 
 
 Into the raptures untold. 
 
 Out from the sin that distressed them. 
 Out from the strokes of the rod, 
 
 Out from the foes that oppressed them, 
 Into the presence of God. 
 
 Why should we wish the departed 
 
 Back to this dwelling of sin? 
 Safe with the radiant angels, 
 
 Jesus hath gathered them in. 
 
 April 21, iSgq. 
 
JUST TO FOLLOW JESUS, 1 05 
 
 DO NOT FAINT, DEAR HEART. 
 
 DO not faint, dear heart, 
 'Neath thy weary load ; 
 Christ will grace impart, 
 
 Only look to God. 
 Tell Him all thy fears, 
 
 Trust Him with thy grief ; 
 He regards thy tears, 
 He will send relief. 
 
 Tell him of the care 
 
 Pressing down thy soul. 
 He thy woes wilt share — i 
 
 Help thee reach thy goal. 
 Jesus is thy Friend, 
 
 Faithful He will be ; 
 Trust Him to the end. 
 
 For He cares for thee. 
 
 April 21, i&)Q. 
 
 JUST TO FOLLOW JESUS. 
 
 JUST to follow Jesus 
 Ev'ry day. 
 Just to have him lead me 
 
 All the way. 
 Just to fully trust him 
 
 Each swift hour. 
 Just to know he keeps me 
 By his power. 
 
io6 A RIFT IN THE CLOUDS. 
 
 Just to feel he loves me 
 
 Day and night, 
 Just to know I'm precious 
 
 In his sight. 
 Just in ev'ry trial, 
 
 On him lean ; 
 Just to know he makes me 
 
 White and clean. 
 
 Just in his sweet service 
 
 Find my will, 
 And when I am tempted, 
 
 Trust him still. 
 Just to know when dying 
 
 He is nigh, 
 Just to have his likeness 
 
 By and by. 
 
 April 2Q, i8qq. 
 
 SYMPATHY. 
 
 HELP me, O Lord, that I may share 
 The burden of another's care, 
 My love to thee aid me to show 
 By helping bear my neighbor's woe. 
 
 Grant I may share my frugai store 
 With him who needs it even more. 
 Unmindful of my load of grief, 
 That I may give to him relief. 
 
 May I extend a helping hand 
 To help a fallen brother stand. 
 And show my love to him and thee 
 By proofs of my sincerity ! 
 
 May 8, iSgg. 
 
THE SOU US CRT, 107 
 
 WONDROUS GRACE. 
 
 O WONDROUS grace that Thou, my God, 
 Dost stoop to hear my prayer! 
 Thy love through me dost shed abroad, 
 And make me, Lord, Thy care. 
 
 What claim have I upon Thy love, 
 
 Who once denied Thy name? 
 What right to ask Thee to remove 
 
 My load of sin and shame? 
 
 I who so oft Thy grace have spurned, 
 
 And dared to disobey, 
 I who have yet so poorly learned 
 
 To walk in wisdom's way. 
 
 Yet Thou dost care for even me. 
 
 Unworthy though I prove, 
 Happy am I, my God, to be 
 
 The object of Thy love. 
 
 May 8, i8qg. 
 
 THE SOUL'S CRY. 
 
 LORD JESUS, may I be 
 Filled with Thy love to-day, 
 May I abide with Thee, 
 
 And with Thee ever stay. 
 Be Thou my constant Guide, 
 O keep me near thy side, 
 While I in Thee confide, 
 And never from Thee stray \ 
 
io8 A RIFT IN THE CLOUDS. 
 
 Lord, help me from this day 
 
 Thy wondrous name extol ! 
 O drive me not away, 
 
 But satisfy my soul. 
 May I be ever Thine, 
 Thy love be always mine. 
 As Thou through me dost shine, 
 And brighten all my w^ay. 
 
 And when my life is done, 
 
 O Christ, be nigh to cheer ; 
 At setting of life's sun, 
 
 Then, gracious Lord, be near ; 
 Sustain me by Thy grace. 
 Reveal to me Thy face. 
 Take me in Thine embrace, 
 That I no more may fear. 
 
 April ig, i8<)g. 
 
 SLIPPING AWAY. 
 
 THOU art slipping away from me, darling, 
 Slipping away, slipping away ; 
 Out from the gathering shadows 
 
 Into the light of the day. 
 Far from the taunts of the tempter. 
 
 Far from thy w^oes and distress. 
 Into the glories awaiting 
 Ever thy spirit to bless. 
 
 Thou art slipping away from me, darling, 
 
 Slipping away, slipping away ; 
 Stay with me love, in the twilight — 
 
 Precious one, dearest one, stay ! 
 
IS IT WORTH WHILEP 109 
 
 Save me the heart pang unspoken, 
 
 Spare me the anguish unknown, 
 Why shouldst thou leave me, my darling, 
 
 Out in the gloaming alone ? 
 
 Thou art slipping away from me, darling, 
 
 Slipping away, slipping away ; 
 Canst thou not linger, my treasure ? 
 
 Abide with me dearest, I pray ; 
 O how I love and adore thee. 
 
 Thou art the joy of my heart ; 
 Leave me not yet, in my sorrow 
 
 How can I bid thee depart? 
 
 April 4, iSgq. 
 
 IS IT WORTH WHILE? 
 
 IS it worth while to waste the flying time 
 With vain regrets for all our wasted years, 
 Nor plan to make the future more sublime. 
 But strive to view it through a mist of tears ? 
 Is it worth while ? 
 
 Is it worth while to merely idly dream 
 
 The good that we may do ere life be gone. 
 
 Unheeding opportunity's swift stream 
 
 Will cease to longer flow when life is done. 
 Is it worth while? 
 
 Is it worth while to gladden all the way 
 
 With sunny smiles and deeds that speak of love, 
 
 And lie us down at close of life's brief day 
 To sleep, and then awake with Christ above? 
 Aye, 'tis worth while. 
 
 April 7, i8qq. 
 
no A RIFT IN THE CLOUDS. 
 
 WERE IT NOT BEST FOR THEE. 
 
 WERE it not best for thee, 
 The radiant streams that flow 
 Down thy wan cheeks to-day 
 
 Back to their founts would go, 
 And sunny smiles would come instead 
 Of all the bitter tears you shed. 
 
 Were it not best for thee 
 
 The long-imprisoned sigh. 
 Dear one, would never be. 
 
 But hope would linger nigh 
 To whisper of a brighter day 
 When sweetest joys would come and stay. 
 
 Were it not best for thee. 
 
 Thou wouldst no longer stand 
 
 With tear-dimmed eyes to see 
 Thy little household band. 
 
 And miss one face among the rest ; 
 
 It would not be were it not best. 
 
 O, it is best for thee, 
 
 Each grief that thou dost bear. 
 Or it would never be. 
 
 Then why, dear heart, despair ? 
 Somewhere thou yet will find thy rest. 
 Some time thou'lt know this way was best. 
 
 April /, i8gq. 
 
NOV 26 1900