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 ALTHEA^ 
 
 Rebecca S, Pollard 
 
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 COPYRIGHT DEPOSm 
 
ALTHEA 
 
 OR 
 THE MORNING GLORY 
 
 BY 
 REBECCA S. POLLARD 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 SHERIVL^N, FRENCH & COMPANY 
 
 1913 
 
7S 3^^' 
 111 
 
 Copyright, 1912 
 Sherman, French df Company 
 
 1^CI.A320291 
 
ALTHEA 
 
ALTHEA 
 OR 
 
 THE MORNING GLORY 
 
 Weeping and pain may for a night endure, 
 But, in the morning, coming joy is sure. 
 Seek Him who turns the shades of death and 
 
 night 
 Into the morning's glory, fair and bright ! 
 His "going-forth" is as the morning's dawn ; 
 This we shall know if we but "follow on !" 
 O, blessed Lord! Thou speakest from afar: — 
 "Behold, I come, the Bright and Morning 
 
 Star!" 
 
 We guard it sacredly from stranger's tread — 
 
 The soil that holds our unforgotten dead. 
 
 It comforts us to know that we may come 
 
 To muse beside them ; and, tho' lips are dumb, 
 
 The silent dust is cherished as a part 
 
 Of clinging arms and a responding heart. 
 
 A darling daughter rests on either side 
 Of him who was my early girlhood's pride. 
 He never saw them. He was called from earth 
 To higher, happier realms before their birth. 
 Faith wavered when I plead, and plead in vain. 
 
^ ait|)ea 
 
 The wisdom of God's purpose now is plain. 
 It had o'er wearied him — this lengthened stay, 
 'Twas mercy summoned him so soon away. 
 Less time for earth's perplexing trials given 
 And more for the enduring joys of heaven I 
 
 How quietly they sleep beneath his care — 
 The forms that once were called surpassing 
 
 fair! 
 My elder darling I named "Stella" — Star — 
 Because lie loved those shining orbs afar; 
 The younger, "Rose," because there seemed a 
 
 crush 
 Of rosy petals when her cheeks would flush. 
 Both so alike in features, form and height 
 That strangers often would mistake them quite. 
 
 Those golden years with diamond moments 
 
 set — 
 Their hallowed memory is with me yet ! 
 Then, to the full, I felt and understood 
 The sacred joy of Christian motherhood. 
 A flowering rose-bush on a grassy mound 
 Kept scattering its fragrance all around ; 
 And once twin blossoms on a leafy stem 
 I plucked and told my girls they looked like 
 
 them. 
 
I sometimes feared these lambkins of my fold 
 Might lead me into worship, uncontrolled. 
 'TAvas then, in deep contrition, I would kneel 
 And to the pitying Christ my fears reveal. 
 With hand on each dear head my lips would 
 
 cry, 
 "O let me keep Thy presence ever nigh! 
 First, last and always be my soul on guard 
 Lest earthly idols should supplant my Lord." 
 With equal tenderness my Rose returned 
 The love for which her gentle sister yearned. 
 "We are twin cherries," she said merrily, 
 "And you, dear mother, only just the tree." 
 While Stella, nestling close would often say, 
 "What could I, sweetheart, do with you away? 
 My dear twin sister — yes, my very own — 
 Must never go and leave me here alone." 
 
 Some clinging morning-glory vines we found 
 Their tendrils 'round the latticed porch had 
 
 wound. 
 Each day when sunlight fell — a golden 
 
 shower — 
 I saw, beside my plate, an opening flower. 
 " 'Twas sleepy, mother, till I bade it take 
 A drink that you might see it wide awake. 
 It seemed to whisper when I brought it here, 
 'A morn-in-glory to you, mother dear !' " 
 
4 ait|)ea 
 
 Then, as my Stella smiled, her lips apart, 
 "You are the morn-in-glory of my heart!" 
 I cried impulsively ; and turned to trace 
 A sad expression on her sister's face. 
 She sighed and hastened, by strong feeling led, 
 Across the lawn, beyond the garden bed ; 
 Plucked from a bending bush a rose full-blown ; 
 Returning, hid her small hand in my own, 
 And said, in quivering voice that held a tear, 
 "Now call me 'Rose-in-glory,' mother dear!" 
 
 "My queen of flowers hereafter you shall be ! 
 Come, Stella, kiss the new-crowned queen with 
 
 me !" 
 'Twas quickly over — sunshine followed rain. 
 I never saw a jealous cloud again. 
 But from that time, at breakfast, soon or late, 
 I found a snowy rose beside my plate. 
 
 Some two months later — 'twas in blossoming 
 
 May — 
 They both came bounding home from school 
 
 one day ; 
 Stella, the first in haste to reach my side. 
 "A lovely lady talked to us !" she cried. 
 "She said, 'If questioning be not too bold. 
 Tell me your names and ages.' 'Ten years old. 
 Our names? Each claims the sweetest flower 
 
 that grows ; 
 
Cfte g^orning (^lorp 
 
 I'm Morn-in-glory ; she is Glory-Rose.' 
 She whispered, while she gave us each a kiss, 
 'I knew you came from brighter realms than 
 this !' " 
 
 One afternoon, my Rose, all drooping, said, 
 "I am not well. It pains me so — my head ! 
 Do let me rest an hour in quiet here. 
 I shall be better shortly, mother dear." 
 
 The doctor came. He said, "Send her away — 
 Your other daughter — now, without delay !" 
 I asked, appealing, "May she not remain 
 If kept outside the room?" My plea was vain. 
 His answer proved a quick, emphatic, "No ! 
 This very day, my friend, the child must go. 
 Prepare at once for relatives to come. 
 In urgent haste, and take her to their home." 
 
 A dread foreboding seized me. Well it mio-ht ! 
 A separation for a single night 
 Was yet unknown. I had no kindred near. 
 A stranger's voice and touch might waken 
 fear. 
 
 'Twas the day after Stella had been sent. 
 To save her from contagion — as I bent 
 The fevered patient's pillow to arrange, 
 With hope to see the much desired change 
 
6 ^hhtn 
 
 For which we waited — that I heard a tap 
 Upon the window-pane and then a rap, 
 Low yet distinct, upon an entrance door. 
 I ran to answer. "Do not, I implore, 
 Insist on lingering here ! The order made 
 By the physician I must see obeyed!" 
 
 She did not move, but, seeing my alarm. 
 
 She laid a hand, caressing, on my arm. 
 
 "It matters not if I am called to give 
 
 My life that yonder darling child may live ; 
 
 I came here, uninvited, unafraid, 
 
 To stand beside you and to proffer aid. 
 
 I've taken my commission from His Word. 
 
 You will not dare refuse your pitying Lord !" 
 
 I flung the door wide open. "Sister, come ! 
 
 If under His directions, I am dumb !" 
 
 I, silent, turned to lead, but she had sped 
 Through hall and room and reached my dear- 
 
 est's bed. 
 The shadow of a recognizing smile 
 Flitted across the suff'rer's face ; and while 
 Her lips upon the gold-spun hair were pressed, 
 I knew the "lovely lady" was my guest. 
 
 Then with sweet, tear-wet eyes, she turned 
 
 away. 
 "We need the Father's presence. Let us pray. 
 
€:bt gpotning <^lotp 
 
 O, sympathizing Jesus, 'tis to Thee 
 In this dear child's behalf, I make my plea! 
 From Thee, who blest the little ones below, 
 We ask the help Thou only canst bestow. 
 Raise up this stricken one! From danger hold 
 The other absent lambkin of the fold !" 
 Her prayer was interrupted, for we heard 
 The doctor's voice, by indignation stirred. 
 We rose. She faced him with compelling look. 
 "I take my orders. Doctor, from the Book. 
 We, Christians, find instructions, clear and 
 
 plain. 
 To visit the afflicted. It were vain 
 To place restrictions on inspired Word. 
 You cannot. Doctor, quarantine the Lord. 
 I came," her arm was here around me thrown, 
 "To stay. I will not leave her here alone." 
 With piercing glance, her soul he seemed to 
 
 scan ; 
 Then said, "On promise to remain, you can." 
 "Thank you," she answered. "We the watch 
 
 will share. 
 Small fear that I should wish to go elsewhere !" 
 'Twas after he had left us that she said, 
 "We are old friends. Regard for him had led 
 To warmer feelings, had not unbelief 
 Of what I hold most sacred brought him grief." 
 
 The day before my Rose-in-glory died, 
 
8 aitfjea 
 
 My new-found friend was kneeling at her side, 
 And smoothing, softly, with her touches rare, 
 The blue-veined brow and flowing, silken hair. 
 Her hand was resting on the burning cheek, 
 Her lips had moved, as if about to speak, 
 Just as the doctor, entering, harshly cried, 
 "Move back! Shall all my wishes be defied?" 
 
 I left the room, but could not long remain 
 Away from that white couch. I came again 
 And, with reluctant steps, had reached the door. 
 When, pleading now, I heard his voice once 
 
 more. 
 "Althca!" 'Twas as if his yearning heart 
 Had forced at last his stubborn lips apart. 
 " 'Tis wicked thus your very life to stake ! 
 Be prudent, do, if only for my sake ! 
 These needless risks, as you can plainly see. 
 Inconsequent to 3^ou, are death to me !" 
 
 I asked her, when our intimacy led 
 
 To closest confidence, if what he said — 
 
 Those words betraying poignant suff'ring — 
 
 moved 
 Her sympathy. She merely said they proved 
 His love was still abiding. Then she spoke 
 In sad, firm tones of the "unequal yoke." 
 " 'Tis not for us," she said, "to understand 
 What He, our Father, has in wisdom planned — 
 
Cf)e ^omitiQ <^Iorp 
 
 Why I of human love must be bereft ; 
 
 Why you may not have her — your treasure — 
 
 left. 
 We must not question nor His will oppose, 
 For, weeping mother, be assured. He knows." 
 
 'Tis well, dear Savior — Thou hast willed it so — 
 That our fond, yearning hearts may never 
 
 know 
 How soon to them will come a night of gloom, 
 A snowy casket and a silent tomb. 
 I had not thought her eyes so soon would close 
 In dreamless sleep, my precious, opening Rose ! 
 O, Christ of Calvary, draw near and take 
 My trembling hand, lest my poor heart should 
 
 break ! 
 
 The parting words our best-beloved say, 
 With their last looks, are hidden all away 
 In Love's bright casket ; and the secret key 
 Is turned alone by faithful Memory, 
 When, all unseen, she kneels, as if in prayer 
 To count the priceless jewels hoarded there. 
 
 My hope was that Althea's winsome smile 
 Might cheer my Stella's heart — her grief be- 
 guile. 
 But our united efforts all seemed vain. 
 The child looked constantly for Rose again. 
 
10 ^Itfjea 
 
 I saw it from the first — the strange surprise, 
 The searching glances of her yearning eyes. 
 Nor could my eager, mother-love be blind 
 To the sad change in my poor darling's mind. 
 Her silence was pathetic. She would stand 
 Out reaching for her sister's guiding hand. 
 At times she sought me, saying, "Do you know 
 Why some must tarry here and some must go ?" 
 Her question was the same when weeks had 
 
 flown : — 
 "Why did she go and leave me here alone.''" 
 
 One night, in wakeful weariness I lay 
 Till pitying slumber stole my cares away. 
 I slept. A blissful interlude twixt grief, 
 Both past and present, brought me sweet re- 
 lief. 
 I dreamed — yes, 'twas a dream — that I could 
 
 see 
 My Rose-in-glory bending over me. 
 With glowing face, in flowing robes arrayed, 
 She smiled upon me and, caressing, said, 
 "Your face is thinner, whiter, mother dear, 
 Than when, a twelve-month since, I left you 
 
 here. 
 Perhaps, ere long, the Lord will bid you come 
 To join us in our bright, celestial Home. 
 'Twill comfort you to know we both shall be 
 Your very own throughout eternity." 
 
Cfte horning (^lorp ii 
 
 Why did I fancy she still lingered near, 
 My Glory-Rose? Her step I did not hear, 
 Nor knew I, till I touched the pulseless clay, 
 That Stella's soul, released, had passed away. 
 
 I bow submissive. Wholly now bereft 
 
 Of kindred ! Not one earthly treasure left ! 
 
 Savior mine, forsake me not, lest I 
 Should sink beneath this weight of agony ! 
 
 1 take my grief, my loss, my ev'ry care 
 
 To Thy dear Cross and, trusting, leave them 
 
 there. 
 My faithful Burden-Bearer sets me free. 
 Henceforth, O Christ of God, I live in Thee! 
 
 Althea has been with me through it all, 
 
 Since the sad day of her insistent call. 
 
 She says, when Jesus comes — blessed 
 
 hour ! — 
 That we shall see Him clothed in Kingly power. 
 No manger then to hide His holy head, 
 But glory, might, and majesty, instead, 
 Will prove His right to hold unrivaled sway 
 O'er all the earth on that glad, crowning day. 
 And that His Bride, the living Church, will 
 
 stand 
 Clothed in His righteousness — a shining band — 
 Until the dead in Christ — joy! — shall rise 
 To follow Him, with them, beyond the skies. 
 
12 aitbea 
 
 Her cheering whispers made my spirit soar 
 
 Until it seemed to reach the heavenly shore. 
 
 Words are too impotent and lips too slow 
 
 To tell the rapture of a heart aglow. 
 
 I can but fancy what my bliss would be 
 
 If He — the King — should call to-night for me! 
 
 O dreams, that visit us in sleep profound, 
 What wondrous scenes within thy reach are 
 
 found ! 
 No record of the hours thro' thee we trace ; 
 Thy magic movements distance time and space. 
 Each obstacle removed that checks or bars, 
 At thy command we leap beyond the stars. 
 Aye, more, for loftier flight the strength is 
 
 given — 
 We scale the sapphire heights and enter 
 
 Heaven ! 
 
 My gracious Lord, 'twas kind to let me stay 
 Where love's endearing ties pass not away; 
 To let me feel the dimpled hands so fair 
 Pass, with soft touches, o'er my silvering hair ; 
 To catch the look of loving, glad surprise 
 Upleaping from the watchful, welcoming eyes. 
 They stood before me on the golden strand — 
 My daughters — clasping each their father's 
 hand. 
 
Cf)e horning (^lorp i3 
 
 "O, mother darling!" That familiar tone 
 I felt, I knew, was Rose-in-glory's own ! 
 The sweetness of that swift, exultant thrill 
 Of ecstasy remains to comfort still. 
 And then the exquisite untold delight 
 When Stella's features burst upon my sight! 
 Although I closely scanned her shining face, 
 No lines of pain I saw — no lingering trace 
 Of disappointment in her voice so clear. 
 Her joyous, "Welcome, welcome, mother dear!" 
 
 And he, who went so early, had he known 
 Tlie trials here that I had undergone? 
 With tenderness he took my trembling hand 
 And bade me welcome to the Glory-Land, 
 While Stella pleaded, "Mother, let me guide 
 Your footsteps first to the dear Savior's side!" 
 
 With deepest, strangest awe my soul was 
 
 stirred 
 At thought of the near presence of my Lord. 
 O, bliss unmerited, O, grace complete. 
 To kneel and worship at His pierced feet ! 
 
 And then my Morn-in-glory softly said, 
 
 " 'Tis hallowed ground where saints and angels 
 
 tread. 
 This street of purest gold, my mother, leads 
 To Him — the Throne where Jesus intercedes. 
 
14 aitbea 
 
 'Tis wonderful to hear the prophets tell 
 Of Israel's weary wanderings — what befell 
 The murmuring multitudes by Moses led, 
 By pillar guided and by manna fed ; 
 Of God's great love, His all-sustaining grace. 
 That brought the faithful thro' that desert 
 
 place. 
 They did not understand. It shone afar — 
 The gleam mysterious of the Bethlehem star. 
 But Israel's ancient saints and prophets now. 
 With blood-bought Gentiles, reverently bow 
 Where their united praise unceasing rings 
 To Him, the Lord of Lords, the King of Kings ! 
 But hark! 'Tis David's sweet-stringed harp 
 
 we hear ! 
 The Shepherd king so often tarries near. 
 Of waters still and pastures green to sing, 
 But not of valley dark where shadows cling; 
 For night nor clouds nor dimming mists may 
 
 come 
 To mar the brightness of our heavenly Home — 
 Save when an earth-commissioned angel brings 
 A spot of gloom upon its snowy wings, 
 Which for one fleeting moment cannot stay 
 Within the portals of eternal Day." 
 Then silence fell. Her low, melodious tone 
 Sank to a whisper, "We have reached the 
 
 Throne!" 
 
C!)e Qiorning (^lotp is 
 
 A multitude of kneeling forms was there, 
 Clad in the vestures that the ransomed wear. 
 One slender figure I could plainly see 
 Was all athrill with heavenly rhapsody. 
 Her head was lifted, turned. Her beauty rare 
 Was half concealed by her down-flowing hair. 
 "My Savior!" Her whole being was aflame 
 With rapture at the mention of His name. 
 Her close-pressed hands, and her adoring gaze 
 Fixed on the Throne, betokened wordless 
 
 praise. 
 Then, as the storm-tossed waves of Galilee, 
 Responded to His mild command, so she, 
 In swift obedience to His sacred will. 
 Grew quiet at His gentle, "Peace, be still!" 
 The debt for sins forgiven and washed away 
 Love's fullest measure never can repay. 
 Yet her wild transport was but half suppressed. 
 When, bowed once more in worship with the 
 
 rest, 
 "Mary !" — her name ! That name held doubly 
 
 sweet 
 Since resurrection morn, His lips repeat. 
 "Rabboni !" 'Twas the only word she said 
 Responsive to His touch upon her head. 
 0, Mary Magdalene, in your prayer 
 Let earth's sin-fettered sisters find a share ! 
 Their feet, perchance, had never gone astray 
 Had they been pointed to the narrow way ! 
 
16 aitfjea 
 
 The Hand, compassionate, that lifted you 
 Can draw them from the snare and mire, too ! 
 
 I lingered near, as for a parting look 
 At her still form. Then Rose-in-glory took 
 My hand in hers. "Come, mother, let us bow- 
 Where you may catch the love-light on His 
 
 brow. 
 Approach with reverence, but not in fear. 
 Thy Savior, Master, Sovereign Lord is here!" 
 
 I knelt, but did not dare to lift my face. 
 
 My King — ^my Substitute — Incarnate Grace ! 
 
 Then, as thro' gathering darkness I could see 
 
 Naught save His anguish throes on Calvary ; 
 
 To the awaiting Cross behold Him led ; 
 
 The piercing crown of thorns upon His head ; 
 
 I hear the taunts that mocking tongues repeat ; 
 
 The cruel nailing of the hands and feet ; 
 
 The cooling draught for parching thirst de- 
 nied; 
 
 The blood-drops trickling from His wounded 
 side. 
 
 With eyes fast closed and head still lower bowed 
 My lips found utterance. I cried aloud, 
 "O Lamb of God, what price was paid for me! 
 O, lingering, torturing, awful agony ! 
 
Naught in exchange I bring, O, crucified 
 And risen Lord!" And then His voice replied, 
 "Rise, daughter, rise ! My sufferings are o'er ; 
 Nor pain nor death can touch thy Savior more. 
 We walked together in the shadow-land 
 And 'tis but mete that here I take thy hand." 
 
 O, for a touch divine that I might trace 
 The matchless beauty of the Master's face! 
 His smiling lips hold words as sweet, as dear. 
 As when He blest the little children here. 
 His wistful eyes ! Their pitying glances prove 
 How strong, how infinite. His pardoning love — 
 Wider than earth, more boundless than the sea. 
 Changeless and endless as eternity! 
 
 O soul unsaved, in the dread reckoning day 
 When called to thine account what wilt thou 
 
 say? 
 Tliy Bible all unread. His cross denied, 
 In vain thy pleading cry for rocks to hide ! 
 The Bridegroom comes ! Make haste thy 
 
 lamps to fill — 
 Thine empty lamps ! The oil is offered still. 
 There yet is time and it were death to wait. 
 To hear His unrelenting cry, "Too late !" 
 
18 ^Itbta 
 
 " 'Twas love," said Rose, "impelled the Christ 
 
 to choose 
 A world to succor and a Heaven to lose." 
 Awaking while she spoke, my vision bright — 
 Their forms, their features — faded from my 
 
 sight. 
 
 While I was musing, on the following day, 
 A message came that would not brook delay. 
 A life-long friend was dying — would I come? 
 With utmost speed I hastened to her home. 
 She, with her latest breath, entreated me 
 Her only daughter's guardian to be. 
 
 Sweet Margaret INIoore ! her presence soothed 
 
 the pain 
 That tore, at times, my yearning heart again. 
 Unmunnuringly she bore her recent loss 
 And, daily, clung more closely to the Cross. 
 It was her chief desire to fulfill. 
 As best she might, her blessed Savior's will. 
 In memory e'en now I hear her plead: — 
 "O God, send us a messenger, indeed. 
 With tongue of fire and with heart of flame, 
 To save the lost through Jesus' precious 
 
 Name!" 
 
He came at last — a preacher filled with power. 
 On hardened hearts it fell — the heavenly 
 
 shower — 
 In answer to that faithful handmaid's call. 
 I hastened forth in search of Doctor Paul. 
 
 "Come, Doctor, promise me that you will go 
 To hear the messages." "Not I ! No, no !" 
 "But you will not refuse me this request 
 For just to-night?" He answered, closely 
 
 pressed, 
 "I truly do not feel prepared to say. 
 When evening comes, my friend, perhaps I 
 
 may." 
 
 The failure of my effort grieved me sore. 
 At home, when closeted with Margaret Moore, 
 I told her all that he had been to me 
 Through years of trial. How I hoped to see 
 Conversion's mai-vel wrought ; the truth re- 
 vealed 
 So clearly to him that his doubts must yield. 
 She simply said, "We have an hour to spare. 
 Let it be spent in importuning prayer." 
 
 A larger throng assembled than before. 
 We found the chapel crowded to the door. 
 
20 3ltJ)ea 
 
 The Christ was lifted up to sinners' sight 
 And many hearts received their Lord that 
 
 night. 
 But my glad cry of joy was scarce suppressed 
 When Doctor Paul went forward with the 
 
 rest. 
 Upon Althea's face I saw a gleam 
 Like that on grateful Mary's in my dream. 
 It was so wonderful, so heavenly sweet! 
 I felt the presence of the Paraclete. 
 Then swiftly to the seeking ones I went 
 With urgent whispers, "Trust!" "Believe!" 
 
 "Repent !" 
 
 Our Doctor Paul was called a quiet man 
 But, rising to his feet, he now began. 
 With his heart's fervor shining in his face, 
 To shout, with hands uplifted, "Saved by 
 
 grace 
 
 I" 
 
 I felt quite sure that earnest, thrilling cry — - 
 His new-born soul's awakening — pierced the 
 
 sky; 
 And that his saintly mother knew and heard. 
 And softly, in the glory, praised her Lord. 
 
 The service over, straight Althea sought 
 His side to tell him that the wonder wrought 
 Had filled her with unspeakable delight. 
 He proffered then, as 'twas a starless night, 
 
Ci)e horning: (^lorp 21 
 
 To be our escort. On our homeward walk 
 'Twas of his mother he desired to talk. 
 She died, his father told him, at his birth; 
 But friends had spoken often of her worth. 
 Her constant prayer was that her infant son 
 A true, unfaltering Christian race might run. 
 
 Our doorstep reached, Althea quickly said, 
 "Come in one moment, Doctor," and she led 
 The way into the drawing-room. When 
 
 there — 
 "Please offer here your first, believing prayer. 
 'Twill be a benediction at the close 
 Of this blest day, before we seek repose. 
 Ah, it was not alone the apostle Paul 
 Beheld the light and heard the Savior's call !" 
 
 We knelt together. Strong and undismayed, 
 'Twas to his mother's God the Doctor prayed ; 
 His sins confessed in deep humility ; 
 Spoke of his wasted years, and earnestly 
 Asked that his scoffing words might be for- 
 given — 
 The unbelief through which he oft had striven 
 To turn, alas, his nearest friends aside 
 From following the Christ he had denied. 
 
 We moved as if to rise, but Margaret Moore, 
 With earnest voice, her testimony bore. 
 
22 aitl)ea 
 
 "We thank Thee for the precious love-feast 
 
 spread, 
 O, gracious Father, — for the hungry fed 
 Thro' Thine ambassador, but most of all 
 For the conversion of our Doctor Paul." 
 
 We rose. His hand was laid on Margaret's 
 
 head. 
 "I thank you warmly for your prayer," he 
 
 said. 
 Then to Althea turned, ere she could stir, 
 And in appealing tone, entreated her. 
 "If I must longer wait, 0, tell me so !" 
 With her dear hand in his, she murmured, 
 
 "No." 
 
 Some three years later, on the first of May, 
 A little pilgrim came and asked to stay. 
 'Twas passing strange that one so very small 
 Should, queen-like, claim obedience from all. 
 "Her name shall be," I said, " — let none op- 
 
 pose^ — 
 *Althea,' like her mother's." That we chose. 
 
 Dear Doctor Paul, his wife and daughter fair 
 With Margaret Moore, my pleasant homestead 
 
 share. 
 Althea's life is a sweet, sabbath calm; 
 The Doctor's, a prolonged thanksgiving psalm ; 
 
Cl)e horning (Slot? 23 
 
 And Margaret Moore, like an unfolding flower, 
 Reveals heart beauties every passing hour. 
 When asked which was the dearer of the two — 
 Althea or myself — she quickly drew 
 A hand of each and clasped them in her own, 
 Declaring thus no preference was shown. 
 
 I took wee Thea when the sky aflame 
 
 With morning glory seemed to breathe a name. 
 
 As near the vines and open flowers we stood, 
 
 I pointed to a slow unfolding bud, 
 
 And, thinking of my Stella, smiling said. 
 
 "This little one is scarcely out of bed. 
 
 It is so pure and white. Look, Thea, dear, 
 
 Such crowds of baby glories waking here!" 
 
 O fair, twin blossoms, from the bruised vine 
 
 riven, 
 "A morning without clouds," is yours in 
 
 Heaven ! 
 
 "Margaret," the Doctor said, one day in June, 
 "They tell me you must enter college soon," 
 She blushed and smiled, but slowly shook her 
 
 head. 
 "I've had my call, dear brother Paul," she said. 
 "I go, upheld by God's sustaining grace. 
 To bear glad tidings to the poor, black race." 
 "A missionary, IMargaret ! Is it true? 
 Is He — the Holy Spirit — leading you.? 
 
M aitf)ea 
 
 I will not hinder. If He speaks, obey ! 
 Ill fares the heart that says its Master, 'Nay !' " 
 He struggled to suppress his feelings ; yet 
 His voice was tremulous, his eyes were wet. 
 
 Althea's arms, extended, bade her come. 
 "Think of this, darling, ever as your home. 
 Your tender feet, your clinging, dainty hands 
 Seem scarcely suited to the task's demands. 
 Full oft, perhaps, you will be called to keep 
 Your midnight vigils for a straying sheep. 
 Full oft, your strivings in that sterile soil 
 Will bring but slow returns for patient toil. 
 When scanning eagerly a dusky face, 
 The glimmer of a quickened soul to trace, 
 You meet, instead, an unresponsive look 
 'Twill seem a fruitless task you undertook. 
 But, love, remember that no earthly loss 
 Can equal what He suffered on the Cross." 
 
 The days went by. When nineteen months had 
 fled, 
 
 "The parting hour is nearing us," I said. 
 
 " 'Twill reach us all too soon." Althea's smile 
 
 Was forced, I felt, my brooding to beguile. 
 
 "Margaret is chosen, dear. 'Tis Christ's com- 
 mand 
 
 That she should witness in that far-off land." 
 
The moon was at its full. Its mellow light 
 Had clothed my chamber walls in ghostly white. 
 Through open window could be plainly seen 
 The morning glory vines. Their leaves of 
 
 green 
 Spread over slumbering buds as if to say, 
 "They might awaken, thinking it is day." 
 One tender moonbeam through the silence crept 
 To Margaret's couch and kissed her as she 
 
 slept. 
 
 I may not say if half or quite awake, 
 I heard a voice thro' the pale silence break : — 
 "Can you remain an idle loiterer here 
 While souls are perishing? O woman, fear 
 This call thro' selfish motives to refuse ! 
 The light bestowed on Christians is to use \ 
 Are you content that yonder sleeping one 
 Shall go to darkest Africa alone?^* 
 
 It should have thrilled me with supreme de- 
 light 
 To hear that midnight call on such a night. 
 But I was obdurate, unreconciled. 
 Like some defiant, willful, stubborn child. 
 
 When Margaret sought me, with a shining 
 
 face, 
 And wrapped me closely in a fond embrace. 
 
26 aitijea 
 
 I did not speak — no, not a single word ! 
 Like Peter I had sinned — denied my Lord. 
 I felt I could not bear the sad surprise, 
 The mild rebuke, in her reproving eyes. 
 And so I waited in the morning gray, 
 Until her duties summoned her away, 
 Tlien to the Doctor and Althea went 
 To tell them how those wakeful hours were 
 
 spent; 
 Related all — repeated everything — 
 How I had grieved, resisted Him, my King! 
 
 I had not finished quite, not all confessed. 
 
 When dear Althea drew me to her breast. 
 
 "Poor, bleeding heart ! How quickly He'll for- 
 give 
 
 Rebellious thoughts, if you, henceforth, will 
 live 
 
 Obedient to this unexpected call ! 
 
 Go, without murmuring, forsaking all! 
 
 Haste to your labors in the foreign field. 
 
 When Jesus calls, O, count it joy to yield!" 
 
 "Yes," said the Doctor, "the command is clear. 
 It was our earnest wish to hold you here 
 But the sad, Christless heathen need you 
 
 more — 
 The dying souls upon that distant shore. 
 
Clbe horning aiorp n 
 
 God knows jour steadfastness in other jears — ■ 
 Your faith unshaken, though the blinding tears 
 At each fresh trial would, unbidden, fall. 
 He watched, He listened — yes, He knows it 
 
 all. 
 Then plead your deep contrition, without doubt 
 That He will blot the humbling failure out. 
 Remember this : Your trust in sorrow's hour 
 In God's sustaining, ever-present power — 
 Your living confidence, its ceaseless glow, 
 Gave to my unbelief a stunning blow." 
 
 "Paul, she is weary now," Althea said. 
 I took her proffered hand — was gently led 
 To my own chamber. "Sleep ! Rest quietly ! 
 I shall tell Margaret. Leave it all with me." 
 
 I waked to find my sweet one kneeling near. 
 I drew her close. "0, child, so strangely dear. 
 To Him you serve my broken life I bring, 
 Assured He will accept the offering. 
 At Thy behest, O, Christ, my feet shall go 
 To Afric's sands or to Siberia's snow. 
 Where e'er I may be sent, O, hold me still 
 Promptly obedient to Thy righteous will!" 
 
 It is a sacred time when Christians meet 
 To sing and pray around the Mercy-seat. 
 
28 ait!)ea 
 
 O, parents, who on Christ, the Lord, believe. 
 Have you a family altar, morn and eve? 
 And do your children, wandering afar, 
 Look back to it, as to a guiding star? 
 
 One evening left for worship ! Gathered there 
 The Doctor read, then knelt in fervent prayer. 
 Althea sang. We joined the sweet refrain. 
 'Twas, "God be with you till we meet again." 
 Deep by its chorus every heart was stirred 
 And hopefully rang out each tender word. 
 Because we knew — yes, knew — we all should 
 
 meet 
 Where partings are no more, "at Jesus' feet." 
 
 Few words were spoken when we came to part. 
 Ours were the silent breathings of the heart. 
 Wee Thea Avas asleep. 'Twas better so. 
 Upon awaking she would shortly know 
 About the stay that promised no return. 
 I tried the night before, to have her learn 
 That God had bidden us henceforth to be 
 The bearers of His Word across the sea. 
 But she, in her own quick, imperious way. 
 By gesture emphasized, commanded, "Stay !" 
 And then, suspicious, ventured to implore, 
 "You will not love the heathen children more 
 
Than me! Now, will you? That would not be 
 
 fair! 
 And shall you find some baby glories there?'* 
 Althea's arms around my neck were twined. 
 "Beloved, keep this ever in your mind: — 
 It matters not how long, how hard the road. 
 Your life is hid alway with Christ in God." 
 
 In undisturbed repose the ocean lay — 
 A mirror of the bending sky that day. 
 Earth's weary ones might fancy that her rest. 
 Unbroken, was a type of Heaven possessed. 
 No echo from her depths of requiems said 
 By moaning waves above her quiet dead ; 
 But, noiseless, through the silences profound, 
 She heaped her emerald sea-weeds gently 
 
 round — 
 Soft couches to be held in waiting there 
 For the pale forms committed to her care. 
 
 We watched, together, the receding shore — 
 Margaret and I — till it was seen no more. 
 "As near to us," she said, "on Afric's sand 
 Is Heaven as in our OAvn beloved land. 
 Let us toil patiently until life's close. 
 He leads. He loves, He watches, and He 
 knows." 
 
30 aitbea 
 
 That night when, like a child, she fell asleep, 
 I knelt in earnest prayer. "My Father, keep 
 This trusting one, so innocent and pure! 
 O, give her strength and courage to endure! 
 She never yet was known to turn aside 
 From duty's path — Thyself her only Guide. 
 Her heart from Thee has never been beguiled — 
 Her mother's prayers the safeguard of her 
 
 child. 
 She goes Thine all-embracing love to plead. 
 O, grant her grace for every time of need! 
 A 'double measure' let her portion be. 
 And may her zeal inspire and strengthen me ! 
 Each morning give to her a large supply 
 Of heavenly manna fresh, that even I 
 May take the living food unsparingly 
 And satisfy my longing soul in Thee." 
 
 Eight years ! How rapidly the time has flown 
 Since we departed! I return alone. 
 At Margaret's earnest wishes, oft expressed, 
 I am the first to claim a twelve-month's rest. 
 Though once before, for a much briefer space, 
 We sought fresh strength in a more healthful 
 
 place. 
 How sweet to meet again with friends long- 
 tried 
 And testify to every need supplied 
 
By the unfailing One who guards from ill 
 The messengers who "go" to do His will ! 
 
 I told our eager dear ones what delight 
 It was to hear her on a starry night — 
 Our Margaret — speak of Jesus and His power 
 To groups that listened, hour after hour. 
 O, gospel-hardened hearts, in Christian lands. 
 The truth you scorn they grasp with famished 
 
 hands ! 
 One day a boy asked, "Was he black like me 
 This Man who died for us on Calvary?" 
 "No, He was white. But, whether dark or 
 
 fair, 
 He loves the little children everywhere." 
 "Could our souls, teacher, ever get to be 
 As white as yours?" he questioned earnestly. 
 "Yes, my dear boy ! Altho' like crimson, know 
 His blood will make them whiter than the 
 
 snow." 
 AJthea's eyes were wet, and Thea, too. 
 With quivering lips declared, "I mean, like you 
 And Sister Margaret Moore some day to go 
 And teach the heathen. You will not say, 
 
 'No!'" 
 This to her father, who, with answering tears, 
 Responded quickly, "O, my wasted years ! 
 I sometimes wonder whether, past life's prime, 
 Christ will permit me to redeem the time 
 
32 aitJjea 
 
 And carry to tlie hearts that want the light 
 The story of His all-redeeming might !" 
 
 "The Lord's sure promises, 0, friend, behold ! 
 You yet are young and strong, but were you 
 
 old 
 He says that 'in old age' we still shall bear 
 'Fruit' in His service. It is written there !" 
 I turned and pointed to Psalm ninety-two. 
 "Read, brother Paul ! The message is for you. 
 
 "My sister, has the Spirit whispered aught 
 Of this to you?" "Ah, yes! I long have 
 
 sought," 
 Althea said — how lovely was her face! — 
 "I long have sought for patience and for grace 
 To wait His time to bear the living Word 
 To those who never yet its music heard." 
 
 The Doctor bowed his head. "0 God, fulfill 
 Whatever is in keeping with Thy will ! 
 My wife and daughter and myself I bring — 
 My health, my strength, possessions, every- 
 thing — 
 And lay them down at Jesus' pierced feet. 
 'His way is perfect' and His will is sweet !" 
 
Two years had passed, and, both our furloughs 
 
 o'er. 
 We labored on — myself and Margaret Moore. 
 A long-expected letter came one night 
 That thrilled our hearts with jubilant delight. 
 The Doctor wrote that he and his would be, 
 Before we read the news, upon the sea. 
 He came to seek the lost — their steps to guide 
 To Him who for their sakes was crucified. 
 He said he had no reason to confess 
 A constitution weakened by excess. 
 His crimson sin was that of unbelief — 
 E'en now the memory gave him sharpest grief. 
 But abstinence had brought its own reward. 
 "A body clean I have to offer. Lord ! 
 A mind, alert and sound, to Thee I give. 
 Henceforth for blood-bought souls alone I 
 
 live !" 
 
 He further wrote, "Althea longs to find 
 Her work among the women, bound and blind ; 
 While Thea hopes the natives' hearts to reach 
 By singing the glad tidings when I preach." 
 
 One year of study, two of service, prove 
 That Doctor Paul was chosen from above. 
 As an evangelist, a wider field 
 Than ours returns a more abundant yield. 
 
34 aitftea 
 
 His daughter has her fondest wish fulfilled, 
 For many a careless one is roused and thrilled 
 By the inspired fervor of her songs — 
 The harmony angelic that belongs 
 To those who seek their message at the Throne, 
 And sing to glorify their Lord alone. 
 
 "Her earnest prayers, her sympathizing voice 
 Have led full many a convert to rejoice," 
 The Doctor said. "When sennons fail to move, 
 Hearts break and yield at her appeal of love. 
 A wondrous gift is this the Lord has given — 
 A bait that lures lost souls from earth to 
 Heaven !" 
 
 Althea has a precious ministry; 
 Her name reveals it — blessed "healer," she ! 
 Go ask the bruised and bleeding hearts to tell 
 Of her whose face and touch they love so well ! 
 Go, question her — that aged, trembling one — 
 She'll croon her praise from dawn till set of 
 
 sun ! 
 Go, hear that Christian mother, ^dth her brood 
 Of laughing children, sob her gratitude ! 
 Go, speak to yonder happy girl and learn 
 Wlio helped her sin-stained feet from death to 
 
 turn ! 
 Like sunbeam scattering its warmth around. 
 Alike on fallow as on fertile ground, 
 
She moves among them without fear of taint. 
 With reverence they call her "Little Saint." 
 Althea, "healer!" 'Tis Thy love divine 
 That fills her heart, Christ! The praise is 
 Thine ! 
 
 October comes again ! We separate 
 To-morrow morning, for appointments wait 
 The Doctor and our Thea far away. 
 We cherish every moment of their stay, 
 But gladly send them forth to preach and 
 
 sing — 
 Ambassadors of Him, their coming King! 
 
 We sat on the verandah that last eve 
 And watched the mellow moonlight softly weave 
 Its gilded rays among the boughs of green 
 WTiere the tall, swaying forest trees were seen. 
 No breath of air the sacred silence stirred. 
 A hush was on our voices, when we heard 
 The swift approach of an oncoming breeze 
 That shook the place and swept us to our 
 
 knees. 
 All did not thus remain, for two arose. 
 His Presence lifted them. In calm repose 
 Their faces, in the moonlight, had the gleam 
 Of heavenly radiance on a waveless stream. 
 
36 aitf)ea 
 
 The Doctor stood with Thea, side by side, 
 Their heads upHftcd, arms extended wide ; 
 While Margaret and Althea nearer drew, 
 Their faces raised, their arms outreaching, too. 
 All were expectant. Plainly 'twas revealed 
 Tliat their commission had been fully sealed 
 In that still hour by the Holy Ghost. 
 To me it seemed another Pentecost ! 
 
 The unseen Presence, hovering so near. 
 
 To their awed souls in wordless speech made 
 
 clear 
 The great enduement : "Freely I bestow — 
 As freely give. This is the debt you owe." 
 
 Upon the morrow, at the early dawn. 
 The two will go, their armor buckled on. 
 Complete, entire — the armor of their God; 
 Feet with the gospel preparation shod ; 
 Faith for their shield ; and all their work to 
 
 bless 
 The shining breastplate of His righteousness ; 
 The helmet of salvation fastened tight; 
 Sword of the Spirit, two-edged, burnished 
 
 bright ; 
 Their loins truth-girded, and their constant 
 
 prayers 
 Ascending to the God who knows and cares ! 
 
Cfje horning (Slorp 37 
 
 It was Altlica's voice that first arose 
 
 When, gathered at that hallowed evening's 
 
 close, 
 We sang together, full and sweet and strong — 
 Each heart responding to the parting song. 
 And hands close clasped — the dear, familiar 
 
 strain 
 Of "God be with you till we meet again !" 
 While I, unnoticed, whispered, "Till I meet 
 My waiting loved ones there 'at Jesus' feet !' " 
 
 Weeping and pain may for a night endure, 
 
 But in the morning, coming joy is sure. 
 
 Seek Him who turns the shades of death and 
 
 night 
 Into the morning's glory, fair and bright! 
 His "going-forth" is as the morning's da^ni ; 
 Tliis we shall know if we but "follow on !" 
 O, blessed Lord! Thou speakest from afar: — 
 "Behold, I come — the Bright and Morning 
 
 Star !" 
 
SFP 10 1912