PS 2794 
 S5 
 1896 
 Copy 1 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, 
 
 Chap. Copyright No. 
 
 5 5 
 
 UNITED STATES OF AM^I^ipA. 
 
 ^ / ' ( -" 
 
HYMNS AND SONNETS 
 
HYMNS AND SONNETS 
 
 ELIZA SCUDDER 
 
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 ("dec 26 ^'^>'^'-^ i 
 
 BOSTON AND NEW YORK ''V Qx^'^ 
 
 HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY ^ 
 
 1896 
 

 Copyright, 1880, 
 By ELIZA SCUDDER. 
 
 Copyright, 1896, 
 By HORACE E. SCUDDER. 
 
 All rights reserved 
 
 /; 
 
 The Riverside Press, Cambridge, Mass. , U. S. A. 
 Electrotyped and Printed by H, O. Houghton and Company. 
 
THE SISTERS 
 
 " And then I thought how thou hadst been to me 
 Even as this flower. . . . 
 
 Heaven help my heart 
 When the flower v/ithers and thy steps depart." 
 
 Eliza Scudder : The Laburnum. 
 
 From dim, mysterious forest depths they came 
 Where dwells the mighty Mother \ whom from 
 
 birth 
 They worshipped, till they felt her beauty's worth 
 In every wayside flower, and shared the same, 
 Sweet secret of a Soul whose gentle frame 
 Was floweriike j and, where'er they walked on 
 
 earth, 
 Bright loves and sympathies sprang blooming 
 
 forth ; 
 Which Time ne'er withered with his wasting 
 
 flame. 
 
vi THE SISTER. 
 
 And still about their way the gathering band 
 Of tender friendships ever fairer grew ; 
 Till, yet unparted, with unfailing powers, 
 They passed, together, through the woodland 
 
 bowers, 
 Where every fragrant blossom blooms anew, 
 Back through the forest roaming hand in hand. 
 William Page Andrews. 
 Capri, 4 November, 1896. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGK 
 
 Introductory Note . . . . . . . ix 
 
 The Laburnum xxv 
 
 To A Young Child . i 
 
 The Love of God 3 
 
 The New Heaven 5 
 
 Epitaph on an Old Maid , . . . . 8 
 
 Summer Departing 11 
 
 The Dreamer _ . . . 13 
 
 Truth , . .15 
 
 The Quest 17 
 
 In War Time 19 
 
 To G. S 22 
 
 No More Sea . .23 
 
 To L. M. C 25 
 
 Whom but Thee 27 
 
 In Memoriam, F. D. B 29 
 
 Out of the Shadow 32 
 
 Lines for Music 36 
 
 vii 
 
viii CONTENTS 
 
 Vesper Hymn 37 
 
 Collect for Ascension Day .... 40 
 
 Collect for Second Sunday after Epiphany . 43 
 
 Thanksgiving 45 
 
 The Wild Rose -49 
 
 The Morning Watch 52 
 
INTRODUCTORY NOTE 
 
 This edition of Hymns and Sonnets is a reprint 
 of the volume published in 1880, with two further 
 poems written and printed since that date. It 
 may cause some surprise to those who knew the 
 author, that so thin a book should contain the 
 harvest of so rich a nature, and it is not quite 
 easy for those who knew her best to account to 
 themselves for the infrequency with which Miss 
 Scudder wrote. She was so generous in conver- 
 sation and letters, and had so many hours of en- 
 forced quiet that it would seem natural for her to 
 have used verse as an outlet for her overflowing 
 spirit. Yet fifty years lie between the first and 
 the last poem in this volume, and though the 
 collection in the first instance was the result of 
 some sifting, there is no reason to suppose that 
 the entire amount of the writer's verse was much 
 greater. Moreover there could have been no 
 
X INTRODUCTORY NOTE 
 
 discouragement from lack of recognition. It is 
 doubtful if the history of hymnody would show 
 of any other writer so large a number of hymns 
 in general use in proportion to the number 
 written. 
 
 Perhaps one explanation may be found in the 
 profound feeling she had for the mystery of 
 religion, which checked the impulse to use as a 
 theme for artistic handling what she cared for 
 most. Had the art of poetry compelled her, it 
 might have been touched and deepened by her 
 religious feeling, but, though she began to write 
 when she was young, she rather chose poetic ex- 
 pression than was possessed by it. With her 
 affectionate nature and her love of companion- 
 ship she readily found expression for her thought 
 and feeling in matters of common experience ; it 
 was the travail of her soul struggling for freedom 
 which drew from her the effort to put into the 
 larger form of poetry the successive spiritual 
 triumphs. Some intimation of her inner history 
 may be drawn from a brief statement of her out- 
 wardly uneventful life. 
 
INTRODUCTORY NOTE xi 
 
 Eliza Scudder was born 14 November, 182 1. 
 She was the daughter of Eliza [Bacon] and Elisha 
 Gage Scudder; her parents were both from 
 Barnstable on Cape Cod, a town which always 
 had more of the restful virtue of home in her 
 changing life than any other place. Her father 
 was a merchant in Boston and died when she 
 was but an infant. Her mother lived till 1869. 
 Her sister Rebecca, three years her senior, mar- 
 ried, in 1845, Mr. Samuel Page Andrews, living 
 first in Framingham, Massachusetts, and after- 
 ward in Salem, where Mr. Andrews was for many 
 years clerk of the municipal court. Salem be- 
 came thus one of Miss Scudder's homes. The 
 exquisite beauty of the older sister seemed to 
 deepen the affection of the younger, and her 
 presence satisfied the love of beauty in face and 
 character which was a ruling passion with Eliza 
 Scudder. There was a long period, too, in the 
 younger sister's girlhood when she suffered from 
 an affection of the eyes which never was wholly 
 relieved, so that she went through life, looking 
 at everything with that eager glance which her 
 
xii INTRODUCTORY NOTE 
 
 friends remember so well, yet almost wholly cut 
 off for long stretches of time from reading or 
 from looking on the paper when she wrote. 
 During this early period the companionship of 
 her sister was the supreme solace of her days. 
 Something of the deep feeling she had for her 
 has stolen into the verses, The Laburnum, which 
 keeps its place as a dedicatory poem. 
 
 Endowed with a religious nature, she early lis- 
 tened to the appeal which the church life about 
 her made to her conscience, and was received a 
 member of the Trinitarian division of the Con- 
 gregational order. But as her mind matured she 
 found herself compelled to reexamine the founda- 
 tions of religious belief, and as a result she dis- 
 sented from the formulas of Calvinism. She was 
 drawn also by her sympathy with the antislavery 
 movement, in which she took an active part, 
 into a discipleship of Gerrit Smith, a companion- 
 ship with Mrs. Child and others, which not only 
 quickened her intellectually, but opened a way 
 into fields of spiritual freedom, which seemed 
 unbounded by any dogmatic statement. With- 
 
INTROD UCTOR Y NO TE xiii 
 
 out connecting herself formally with the Unita- 
 rian denomination, she found herself more at 
 home there than elsewhere, and yet the expression 
 in such hymns as The Love of God and The New 
 Heaven indicates more surely the direction of her 
 thought, which was of a mystic self-effacement in 
 the larger life of a spiritual reality outside of and 
 beyond herself. 
 
 This change in her religious affiliation brought 
 with it much that was distressing in the aliena- 
 tion of early friends and their disapproval of her 
 course. She was, in spite of her new relations, 
 very much alone, and in the gently humorous and 
 pathetic Epitaph on an Old Maid, she gave ex- 
 pression to the sort of regard she had for her- 
 self as she stood a little off in poetic mood, and 
 smiled through her tears at her own detachment. 
 
 During these years she impressed herself 
 strongly on her friends by her eagerness of nature 
 which seemed never to find full vent of expres- 
 sion j she was restless, though not in the least 
 morbid, for there was a singleness of purpose in 
 her dominant religiousness, which was directed 
 
xiv INTRODUCTORY NOTE 
 
 not toward herself, but toward truth. The un- 
 selfishness which was so evident in all her life 
 was in nothing more noticeable than in her free- 
 dom from the error of marking progress by the 
 effect upon herself. In ordinary matters she 
 lost herself in her friends ; in the great things of 
 the spirit she lost herself in God, and the two 
 poems. Truth and The Quest, record this temper ; 
 had she died at this time, her verses Out of the 
 Shadow would perfectly have reflected her most 
 intimate thought of herself. 
 
 Thus when she came to hear and to know 
 Phillips Brooks, the largeness and the objective 
 character of the message which he had to deliver 
 at once seized upon her imagination. Here was 
 a prophet who could interpret for her the things 
 of God, and the spirit which had been thrusting 
 itself in this direction gladly, impetuously in- 
 deed, laid hold of this human help. But Phil- 
 lips Brooks spoke from the vantage ground of a 
 church which stood for worship, and worship 
 which gathered the aspirations and prayers of 
 generations of seekers after God ; so that when 
 
INTRODUCTORY NOTE xv 
 
 the new hearer was drawn also into the use of 
 the immemorial services of the Church she found 
 more adequate expression than she had ever 
 known in the field of her. greatest endeavor. Her 
 Li7ies for Music and her Vesper Hymn both 
 breathe the air of divine content. 
 
 It was touching to those who had followed her 
 thought during all her pilgrimage of the spirit to 
 mark the satisfaction with which she now turned 
 to all that the Church gave her. Her love for 
 her kinsfolk and friends deepened as her love for 
 the Elder Brother and Friend, always made the 
 centre of the Church's sacrifice, found fuller and 
 richer expression. Homeless, though cheerful in 
 the midst of her constant flittings, she now found 
 a grateful shelter in the Church and its work. 
 Wherever she went, this was the home to which 
 her feet turned, and, with a sense of nearness to 
 the heart of Church life, she became an associate 
 of the Sisterhood of S. Margaret. From time 
 to time she essayed now to put into words 
 the strong emotion which the worship of the 
 Church called forth. She drew long breaths of 
 
xvi INTRODUCTORY NOTE 
 
 satisfaction and yet of unceasing aspiration. All 
 her love of beauty in color and form, all her 
 delight in almost inarticulate spiritual brooding 
 had a healthy deliverance, and soon she became 
 as jealous for the honor of her Church as for that 
 of her dearest friends. 
 
 It would be leaving this mere outline of Miss 
 Scudder's religious experience very incomplete if 
 I did not add what The Morning Watch strongly 
 intimates, that after she came into the Church 
 there was a very decided change in her intel- 
 lectual conception of religious truth. Thence- 
 forward there was a deepening of her apprehen- 
 sion of the Incarnation, and she found in the 
 eucharistic sacrifice such an absolute symbol of 
 her faith as made all worship to converge in it. 
 At last it would seem as if the beating of the 
 wings of her spiritual imagination, which had 
 borne her through many flights, ceased in a still 
 poise before this one ultimate image of God in 
 life. The attitude which she took carried with 
 it certain logical consequences in the authority of 
 the Church, and she did not shrink from these, 
 
INTRODUCTORY NOTE xvii 
 
 but accepted them joyfully, saddened only by the 
 loneliness which followed as one or another of 
 her friends failed her here. 
 
 Her life had been one of much privation as 
 regards health and fixed conditions, but she re- 
 tained to the last an unappeasable hunger and 
 thirst for intellectual food, and her companionship 
 was a tonic, so invigorating was her spontaneous 
 thought. She was the most cheerful of sufferers, 
 and her sympathy with those in any way similarly 
 disturbed was without a particle of reflex action. 
 She had a genius for friendship and bestowed her 
 tender regard with such happy humor as made 
 intercourse with her an unfailing refreshment. 
 Two or three fragments of letters from her to 
 a friend, who needed her sympathy, have come 
 in my way, and I venture to add them here as 
 illustrative of the gifts she gave so readily. 
 
 " I fear this weather hardly admits of your 
 gaining strength, and I am afraid that my last 
 visit may have been a positive injury to you, 
 physically. But I cherish the vision of your 
 face, in the darkened room, as you spoke of the 
 
xviii INTRODUCTORY NOTE 
 
 happiness that had been given you in the loneli- 
 ness, and it is a joy to have seen you for even 
 so short a time if only it has not harmed you. 
 * Lead us forth in the way of life which is the 
 way of Thy cross.' That is contains the gist of a 
 very blessed lesson but hard to learn. I suspect 
 that the conflict between the spiritual and the 
 earthly mind, as set forth by S. Paul, is nowhere 
 more obvious than in this very thing — the dif- 
 ferent estimate of the cross, the sensitive part of 
 us always tending to regard suffering as a thing 
 to be avoided, and the eye of the soul getting very 
 gradually opened enough to see that defeat, disas- 
 ter, failure, are just the most precious gifts that can 
 be given, not indeed inevitably, but yet surely to 
 those who are taught how to receive them. In a 
 time of tribulation (more expected than present 
 at the time) last year, it came to me that there 
 were seven reasons (do not all best things go in 
 threes and sevens ?) why I should be very patient 
 and even thankful if the threatened trouble came. 
 I am sorry that I could not then write them all 
 out, as such things never stay in their first power, 
 
INTRODUCTORY NOTE xix 
 
 but will try some time to do so, and then give 
 them two or three at a time, perhaps, to you." 
 
 " The Nook^ Tuesday p. m. So have I named 
 one favorite haunt, to which I have brought my 
 writing, for it is too lovely a day to write to you 
 in the house, when I can have all ' out-of-doors ' 
 for my talk with you. So here I am in one of 
 the upright wooden chairs which have been be- 
 stowed upon us, with my feet on a mossy stone, 
 the pine trees overarching me, and spreading 
 their broad arms around the ferns fringing the 
 carpet of pine needles : some little birds and 
 squirrels chipping near me ; the sun pouring in ; 
 the soft wind breathing around and making the 
 music among the leaves that sounds like the far- 
 oif swell of the sea. Such common elements and 
 yet so full of charm and rest for soul and body ! 
 I like this place more and more. Yesterday we 
 found such a walk ! a mile or more through a 
 deep and yet cheery wood, with all lovely green 
 things growing beneath our feet. I longed to get 
 some of them to you, but quite incidentally have 
 heard that you have some of the same sort from 
 
XX INTRODUCTORY NOTE 
 
 Shelburne. There is a bird (a wood-thrush, I 
 think,) which I never fail to hear in such lonely- 
 places, which always reminds me of a verse in 
 one of Carlyle's translations : — 
 
 * Alone in wood so gay 
 Oh ! I do love to stay ! 
 To-morrow like to-day, 
 Forever and aye. 
 Oh ! I do love to stay 
 Alone in the wood so gay ! ' 
 
 That is very sweet — for the bird, I think, but for 
 us ? If the sunshine were not the smile of our 
 Father, if the wind were not the breath of the 
 Spirit, how cold, how mute it would all be ! This 
 came home very strongly as I sate alone just out- 
 side the wood yesterday while my friends went 
 on to explore farther. It was so lonely, or would 
 have been but for the sense of the great Presence, 
 the immanence, in the natural beauty, of the un- 
 utterable Perfectness." 
 
 " Monday — precise hour of no consequence. 
 ... I am happy here in the friends and the 
 country, and I want to tell you that I am much 
 
INTRODUCTORY NOTE xxi 
 
 more at rest about the Church and Diocese. I 
 do think that a conflict is impending, and that 
 no one can guess what will be the result. But I 
 have come to see in the election of P. B. to be 
 our Bishop, an indication of a great movement, 
 one of those waves of popular feeling which rise 
 from the ground swell somewhere in the depths 
 of our common nature, and are controlled by a 
 Divine purpose. * The Lord on high is mightier 
 than the sound of many waters.' We need not 
 fear to leave the Church to that guidance. What 
 I do fear for myself is that through spiritual ob- 
 tuseness I may fail to see whither we are to be 
 led. But I surely wish to be pliant to the teach- 
 ing of events and to lay aside any prepossessions 
 which may keep me from following whatever 
 new and clearer light may be given." 
 
 " Day before Christmas, noon. One or two 
 thoughts came in the night, old and oft repeated, 
 and yet coming with new power, of the Christ- 
 child coming in humility, in purity, in love. 
 This is the ideal childhood of which one sees 
 only glimpses (yet sometimes such lovely 
 
xxii INTRODUCTORY NOTE 
 
 glimpses !) in the children around us. The first, 
 as manifested in the condescension of the Incar- 
 nation, is too overwhelming to be dwelt upon : - — 
 
 * No angel in the sky 
 Can wholly bear that sight, 
 But downward bends his burning eye 
 At mysteries so bright.' 
 
 The second, like Alpine snows, is too dazzling for 
 our dimmed sight. But how refreshing it is as 
 seen in the comparative stainlessness of even the 
 little children whom we know. The third let us 
 for once call ' affectionateness.' That is some- 
 times so surprising and touching in its sponta- 
 neous outflow from the child's heart. A mere 
 baby will take so strangely to relatives seen for 
 the first time, and even to a stranger who has a 
 heart of love for children. And now think for a 
 moment what all these must be in their perfection, 
 and then where is the limit to our adoration, our 
 wonder, our contrition, save, alas ! in our own 
 terrible incapacity ? ' Ah, no more : thou break'st 
 my heart.' And then, think of being infolded in 
 
INTRODUCTORY NOTE xxiii 
 
 that Life, renewed by that indwelling Grace, 
 until changed into that image ! With this hope 
 before us, can it make much difference what the 
 outward life is, save as it helps toward the great 
 consummation ? May you be helped to bear all 
 the blessedness of Christmas morning, without 
 entire failure of physical strength." 
 
 The last few years of Miss Scudder's life saw 
 her compelled to move north and south as the 
 seasons succeeded each other, and to be separated 
 frequently from her beloved sister. But there 
 came an hour when the separation ended. On 
 Sunday, 27 September, 1896, Mrs. Andrews died 
 after a very brief illness, in Weston, Massachu- 
 setts. Her sister Eliza left the house where she 
 lay and returned to her cousin's, near by. It 
 was but a few hours only before she also suddenly, 
 and without the pain of taking leave of those 
 dear to her, rejoined her sister. They were 
 buried side by side in the quiet graveyard at 
 Weston. 
 
 H. E. S. 
 
THE LABURNUM 
 
 This young tree^s drooping flowers^ lovely and fair 
 And bright as colored by the sun^s own glow^ 
 Meseem^ beloved, like the golden hair 
 That round thy temples gracefully doth flow ; 
 And, while I at my window sat yestreen, 
 Through the close-mingling branches of the trees 
 One only of the blossoms bright was seen 
 Joyously waving in the summer breeze. 
 And th'en I thought how thou hadst been to me, 
 Even as this flower, the only bright fair thing 
 Which ^mid surrounding shades mine eye could see, 
 While through dark years I have been journeying 
 All lonely but for thee. Heaven help my heart 
 When the flower withers and thy steps depart. 
 1845. 
 
HYMNS AND SONNETS 
 
 TO A YOUNG CHILD 
 
 As doth his heart who travels far from home 
 Leap up whenever he by chance doth see 
 One from his mother-country lately come, 
 Friend from my home — thus do I welcome thee. 
 Thou art so late arrived that I the tale 
 Of thy high lineage on thy brow can trace, 
 And almost feel the breath of that soft gale 
 That wafted thee unto this desert place, 
 And half can hear those ravishing sounds that 
 
 flowed 
 From out Heaven's gate when it was oped for 
 
 thee, 
 
 I 
 
2 TO A YOUNG CHILD 
 
 That thou awhile mightst leave thy bright abode 
 Amid these lone and desolate tracks to be 
 A homesick, weary wanderer, and then 
 Return unto thy native land again. 
 1846. 
 
THE LOVE OF GOD 
 
 Thou Grace Divine, encircling all, 
 A soundless, shoreless sea ! 
 
 Wherein at last our souls must fall, 
 O Love of God most free ! 
 
 When over dizzy heights we go, 
 One soft hand blinds our eyes ; 
 
 The other leads us safe and slow, 
 O Love of God most wise ! 
 
 And though we turn us from Thy face, 
 And wander wide and long, 
 
 Thou hold'st us still in Thine embrace,' 
 O Love of God most strong ! 
 3 
 
4 THE LOVE OF GOD 
 
 The saddened heart, the restless soul, 
 The toil-worn frame and mind, 
 
 Alike confess Thy sweet control, 
 O Love of God most kind ! 
 
 But not alone Thy care we claim, 
 Our wayward steps to win ; 
 
 We know Thee by a dearer name, 
 O Love of God within ! 
 
 And filled and quickened by Thy breath 
 Our souls are strong and free 
 
 To rise o'er sin and fear and death, 
 O Love of God, to Thee ! 
 1852. 
 
THE NEW HEAVEN 
 
 Let whosoever will, inquire 
 
 Of spirit, or of seer, 
 To shape unto the heart's desire 
 
 The new life's vision clear. 
 
 My God, I rather look to Thee 
 Than to these fancies fond, 
 
 And wait, till Thou reveal to me 
 That fair and far Beyond. 
 
 I seek not of Thine Eden-land 
 The forms and hues to know, — 
 
 What trees in mystic order stand. 
 What strange, sweet waters flow ; 
 5 
 
6 THE NEW HEAVEN 
 
 What duties fill the heavenly day, 
 
 Or converse glad and kind, 
 Or how along each shining way 
 The bright processions wind. 
 
 Oh joy ! to hear with sense new born 
 The angels' greeting strains, 
 
 And sweet to see the first fair morn 
 Gild the celestial plains. 
 
 But sweeter far to trust in Thee 
 While all is yet unknown. 
 
 And through the death-dark cheerily 
 To walk with Thee alone. 
 
 In Thee my powers, my treasures live, 
 To Thee my life must tend ; 
 
THE NEW HEAVEN 7 
 
 Giving Thyself, Thou all dost give, 
 O soul-sufficing friend ! 
 
 And wherefore should I seek above 
 
 Thy city in the sky ? 
 Since firm in faith and deep in love 
 
 Its broad foundations lie ; 
 
 Since in a life of peace and prayer, 
 Nor known on earth, nor praised. 
 
 By humblest toil, by ceaseless care, 
 Its holy towers are raised. 
 
 Where pain the soul hath purified, 
 
 And penitence hath shriven. 
 And truth is crowned and glorified. 
 
 There — only there — is Heaven. 
 
 1855. 
 
EPITAPH ON AN OLD MAID 
 
 Rest, gentle traveller ! on life's toilsome way- 
 Pause here awhile — yet o'er this slumbering clay 
 No weeping, but a joyful tribute pay. 
 
 For this green nook, by sun and showers made 
 
 warm, 
 Gives welcome rest to an o'er-wearied form 
 Whose mortal life knew many a wintry storm. 
 
 Yet, ere the spirit gained a full release 
 From earth, she had attained that land of peace 
 Where seldom clouds obscure, and tempests cease. 
 8 
 
EPITAPH ON AN OLD MAID 9 
 
 No chosen spot of ground she called her 
 
 own; 
 In pilgrim guise on earth she wandered on, 
 Yet alway in her path some flowers were 
 
 strewn. 
 
 No dear ones were her own peculiar care, 
 So was her bounty free as Heaven's air, 
 For every claim she had enough to spare. 
 
 And loving more her heart to give than lend. 
 Though oft deceived in many a trusted friend. 
 She hoped, believed, and trusted to the end. 
 
 She had her joys : 't was joy to live, to love. 
 To labor in the world with God above, 
 And tender hearts that ever near did move. 
 
10 EPITAPH ON AN OLD MAID 
 
 She had her griefs ; but why recount them here, 
 The heart-sick loneness, the on-looking fear, 
 The days of desolation, dark and drear, — 
 
 Since every agony left peace behind, 
 And healing came on every stormy wind, 
 And still with silver every cloud was lined, 
 
 And every loss sublimed some low desire, 
 
 And every sorrow taught her to aspire, 
 
 Till waiting angels bade her " go up higher." 
 
SUMMER DEPARTING 
 
 She will not linger ; all in vain thy calling 
 On the sweet summer ; fair her reign, but brief ; 
 Seest thou not even now her ripe fruit falling, 
 And here and there one warning yellow leaf ? 
 How hath she blessed us ! now let her depart 
 To gladden other skies, and mourn her not. 
 Nothing of her but liveth in the heart ; 
 Her grace remaineth, though she seems forgot ; 
 The freshness that hath cheered thy morning 
 
 hours, 
 The sunset glory that hath lit thine eye, 
 The night wind's voice, the sweet perfume of 
 
 flowers, 
 
12 SUMMER DEPARTING 
 
 Have passed into thy life, no more to die, 
 And shall be raised again, in that last day, 
 When thy first earth and heaven have fled away. 
 
THE DREAMER 
 
 I KNOW I dream ; these are no earthly bowers 
 
 Wherein the enraptured fancy roams at will. 
 
 This warmth, this light, this sunshine and these 
 showers 
 
 Might ne'er be known to waking sense and skill. 
 
 I know I dream — full soon will come the mor- 
 row, 
 
 With its cold vapors and its leaden sky ; 
 
 Yet from these dreamings, hope some hues may 
 borrow 
 
 To show how fair the lovelier land on high. 
 
 I know I dream — but prythee do not wake me. 
 
 Let wilful nature have awhile her way ; 
 13 
 
14 THE DREAMER 
 
 Nor will I mourn when these bright hues forsake 
 
 me, 
 And melt into the light of common day, 
 Since to the trusting soul the faith is given 
 That this life's dreams shall prove the truths of 
 
 heaven. 
 
TRUTH 
 
 Thou long disowned, reviled, opprest. 
 Strange friend of human kind. 
 
 Seeking through weary years a rest 
 Within our heart to find. 
 
 How late thy bright and awful brow 
 Breaks through these clouds of sin ! 
 
 Hail, Truth Divine ! we know thee now, 
 Angel of God, come in ! 
 
 Come, though with purifying fire 
 
 And desolating sword, 
 Thou of all nations the desire, 
 
 Earth waits Thy cleansing word. 
 IS 
 
l6 TRUTH 
 
 Struck by the lightning of Thy glance 
 
 Let old oppressions die ! 
 Before Thy cloudless countenance 
 
 Let fear and falsehood fly ! 
 
 Anoint our eyes with healing grace 
 
 To see as ne'er before 
 Our Father, in our brother's face, 
 
 Our Master, in His poor. 
 
 Flood our dark life with golden day ! 
 
 Convince, subdue, enthrall ! 
 Then to a mightier yield Thy sway. 
 
 And Love be all in all ! 
 
 January, i860. 
 
THE QUEST 
 
 " Whither shall I go from Thy spirit ? or whither shall 
 I flee from Thy presence ? " 
 
 I CANNOT find Thee ! Still on restless pinion 
 My spirit beats the void where Thou dost 
 dwell j 
 
 I wander lost through all Thy vast dominion, 
 And shrink beneath Thy light ineffable. 
 
 I cannot find Thee ! E'en when most adoring 
 Before Thy throne I bend in lowliest prayer ; 
 Beyond these bounds of thought, my thought up- 
 soaring 
 From farthest quest comes back ; Thou art not 
 there. 
 
 17 
 
i8 THE QUEST 
 
 Yet high above the limits of my seeing, 
 
 And folded far within the inmost heart, 
 And deep below the deeps of conscious being. 
 
 Thy splendor shineth; there, O God, Thou 
 art. 
 
 I cannot lose Thee ! Still in Thee abiding 
 The end is clear, how wide soe'er I roam ; 
 
 The Hand that holds the worlds my steps is 
 guiding. 
 And I must rest at last, in Thee, my home. 
 
IN WAR TIME— 1863 
 
 Why wilt thou ask, O doubting friend, 
 Where are the poets of these days ? 
 
 Not yet is found a voice to blend 
 Our wail of woe, our psalm of praise. 
 
 Some laurel leaves of graceful rhyme 
 Wreathe here and there some victor's brow. 
 
 But the great poems for this time 
 Cannot be written — oh, not now ! 
 
 Not now, while hand and heart and brain 
 For deeds of sternest toil are strung, 
 19 
 
IN WAR TIME 
 And precious life-blood drops like rain, 
 Can half our pride or grief be sung. 
 
 When the young Bayard of our race 
 Fell fighting with his dusky throng, 
 
 Close clasped for aye in death's embrace, 
 O friend ! was this a time for song ? 
 
 We weep and watch, we work and pray ; 
 
 We hail the dawn that far exceeds 
 The noontide of our peaceful day ; 
 
 But all our utterance is in deeds. 
 
 But wait till out of pain and strife 
 Our new and nobler peace is born ; 
 
 Wait till the nation's coming life 
 
 Moves radiant through the gates of morn. 
 
IN WAR TIME 21 
 
 Then where the share was deepest driven 
 
 Shall glow the autumn's choicest store ; 
 And where the billows swelled to heaven 
 
 Seek ocean's treasures on the shore. 
 
 Then look and listen ! then when Art 
 To perfect shape shall freely grow, 
 
 And forms of grace instinctive start, 
 The marble breathe, the canvas glow. 
 
 And then, in that accepted hour. 
 
 On waves of mingling melody 
 Shall rise our song of praise and power, 
 
 The choral anthem of the free ! 
 
TO G. S. 
 
 Of all the days that gild the gladsome year, 
 
 Not the first freshness of the vernal time, 
 
 Nor the refulgent pomp of smnmer's prime 
 
 Giveth to me such warm and heartfelt cheer 
 
 As the sweet season that brings in the morn 
 
 With roseate flush tempered with golden haze, 
 
 And fabled splendors of the Orient lays, 
 
 On glowing woods and fields of ripened corn ; 
 
 How like a life by purest goodness filled ; 
 
 Its wise deeds as the ripe and garnered fruit ; 
 
 Its wild hopes chastened, and its tumults stilled 
 
 In air serene of thought entranced and mute. 
 
 O friend ! this hand in flattery unskilled 
 
 For thee alone thus strikes this wandering lute. 
 October, 1866. 
 
NO MORE SEA 
 
 Life of our life, and Light of all our seeing, 
 How shall we rest on any hope but Thee ? 
 
 What time our souls, to Thee for refuge fleeing, 
 Long for the home where there is no more sea ? 
 
 For still this sea of life, with endless wailing. 
 Dashes above our heads its blinding spray, 
 
 And vanquished hearts, sick with remorse and 
 failing, 
 Moan like the waves at set of autumn day. 
 
 And ever round us swells the insatiate ocean 
 Of sin and doubt that lures us to our grave ; 
 23 
 
24 NO MORE SEA 
 
 When its wild billows with their mad commotion 
 Would sweep us down — then only Thou canst 
 save. 
 
 And deep and dark the fearful gloom unlighted, 
 Of that untried and all-surrounding sea, 
 
 On whose bleak shore arriving lone, benighted. 
 We fall and lose ourselves at last — in Thee. 
 
 Yea ! in Thy life our little lives are ended. 
 Into Thy depths our trembling spirits fall; 
 
 In Thee enfolded, gathered, comprehended, 
 As holds the sea her waves — Thou hold'st us 
 
 all. 
 August, 1870. 
 
TO L. M. C. 
 
 The hastening year brings round once more, dear 
 
 friend, 
 This welcome day which to the earth did lend 
 Such grace as sent you here awhile to live ; 
 Wherefore due thanks I ever duly give, 
 Knowing too well what stores of ripened thought. 
 What works of love, in shapely order wrought, 
 What inspiration waiting hearts to fill, 
 What bright designs, traced out with patient 
 
 skill. 
 What converse sweet, what counsel wise and 
 
 clear, 
 The world and I had missed, without you here. 
 Dear friend, be happy ! Be the lengthened way 
 25 
 
26 TO L, M. C. 
 
 Transfigured in the retrospect to-day ! 
 Sunk out of sight, its vales of pain and grief, 
 Its radiant heights stand forth in clear relief, 
 And all the brightness of the past be thrown 
 Forward, to where Love waits to claim his own. 
 February, 187 1. 
 
WHOM BUT THEE 
 
 From past regret and present faithlessness, 
 From the deep shadow of foreseen distress, 
 And from the nameless weariness that grows 
 As life's long day seems wearing to its close ; 
 
 Thou Life within my life, than self more near ! 
 Thou veiled Presence infinitely clear ! 
 From all illusive shows of sense I flee. 
 To find my centre and my rest in Thee. 
 
 Below all depths Thy saving mercy lies. 
 Through thickest glooms I see Thy light arise; 
 Above the highest heavens Thou art not found 
 More surely than within this earthly round. 
 27 
 
28 WHOM BUT THEE 
 
 Take part with me against these doubts that rise 
 And seek to throne Thee far in distant skies ! 
 Take part with me against this self that dares 
 Assume the burden of these sins and cares ! 
 
 How shall I call Thee who art always here, 
 How shall I praise Thee who art still most dear, 
 What may I give Thee save what Thou hast 
 
 given. 
 And whom but Thee have I in earth or heaven ? 
 August, 187 1. 
 
IN MEMORIAM F. D. B. 
 December 4, 187 1 
 
 To pass through life beloved as few are loved, 
 To prove the joys of earth as few have proved, 
 And still to keep the soul's white robe unstained, 
 Such is the victory that thou hast gained. 
 
 How few, like thine, the pilgrim feet that come 
 Unworn, unwounded to the heavenly home ! 
 Yet He who guides in sorrow's sorest need 
 As well by pleasant paths His own may lead. 
 
 And Love, that guards where wintry tempests 
 
 beat. 
 To thee was shelter from the summer heat. 
 29 
 
30 IN MEMORIAM F. D. B. 
 
 What need for grief to blight or cares annoy 
 The heart whose God was her exceeding joy ? 
 
 And so that radiant path, all sweet and pure, 
 Found fitting close in perfect peace secure ; 
 No haste to go, no anxious wish to stay, 
 No childish terror of the untried way. 
 
 But wrapped in trance of holy thought and 
 
 prayer. 
 Yet full of human tenderness and care, 
 TJndimmed its lustre and unchilled its love, 
 Thy spirit passed to cloudless light above. 
 
 In the far North, where over frosts and gloom < 
 The midnight skies with rosy brightness bloom, 
 There comes in all the year one day complete. 
 Wherein the sunset and the sunrise meet. 
 
IN MEMORIAM F. B. D. 31 
 
 So in the region of thy fearless faith, 
 No hour of darkness marked the approach of 
 
 death, 
 But ere the evening splendor was withdrawn, 
 Fair flushed the light along the hills of dawn. 
 
OUT OF THE SHADOW 
 
 " Rejoice ye, and be glad with her, all ye that love her : 
 rejoice for joy with her, all ye that mourn for her." — Isa. 
 Ixvi. 10. 
 
 Gentle friends who gather here, 
 
 Drop no unavailing tear, 
 
 With no gloom surround this bier. 
 
 Bid this weary frame opprest. 
 
 Welcome to its longed-for rest 
 
 On the fair earth's sheltering breast. 
 
 And the spirit freed from clay, 
 Give glad leave to soar away, 
 Singing, to the eternal day. 
 32 
 
OUT OF THE SHADOW 33 
 
 When this sentient life began, 
 Love of nature, love of man 
 Through its kindling pulses ran ; 
 
 Eagerly these eyes looked forth 
 Questioning the teeming earth 
 For its stores of truth and worth. 
 
 Head and heart with schemes were rife, 
 Longing for some noble strife, 
 Planning for some perfect life ; 
 
 But the Father's love decreed 
 Other work and other meed, 
 And by ways unsought did lead ; 
 
 Turned aside the outstretched hand, 
 
 Bade the feet inactive stand, 
 
 Checked the work that thought had planned ; 
 
34 OUT OF THE SHADOW 
 
 And on eyes that loved to gaze 
 Upon light's intensest rays 
 Dropped a veil of gentle haze. 
 
 How the musing spirit burned ! 
 How the wilful nature yearned, 
 And its sacred limits spurned ! 
 
 Known, O Father, unto Thee, 
 
 All the long captivity 
 
 Of the soul, at last set free ; 
 
 And how hard it was to see 
 Thy great harvests silently 
 Whitening upon land and lea ; 
 
 And to watch the reapers' throng, 
 Filling all the vales with song, 
 As they bore their sheaves along. 
 
OUT OF THE SHADOW 35 
 
 And to Thee, O pitying God, 
 Known Thy grace that overflowed 
 All that still and sacred road, 
 
 Where Thy patience brought relief 
 Following in Thy path of grief, 
 Thou of suffering souls the chief ! 
 
 Yet, since Thou hast stooped to say, 
 " Cast that outworn robe away, 
 Come and rest with me to-day, — 
 
 " Come to larger life and power, 
 Come to strength renewed each hour, 
 Come to truth's unfailing dower ; " — 
 
 To the dear ones gathered here 
 
 Make Thy loving purpose clear, 
 
 And Thy light shine round this bier. 
 1872. 
 
LINES FOR MUSIC 
 
 As the lost who vainly wander, 
 As the blind who widely roam, 
 
 Vexed with doubt, our spirits ponder 
 Till we come to Thee, — our home. 
 
 As the mother fond watch keepeth. 
 As the shepherd knows his sheep, 
 
 So Thine eye that never sleepeth 
 All Thine own in sight doth keep. 
 
 As the wave is lost in ocean. 
 
 As the day-star melts in light. 
 Draw to Thee each wavering motion, 
 Thou whose coming ends our night. 
 February, 1873. 
 
 36 
 
VESPER HYMN 
 
 The day is done ; the weary day of thought and 
 
 toil is past, 
 Soft falls the twilight cool and gray, on the tired 
 
 earth at last : 
 By wisest teachers wearied, by gentlest friends 
 
 opprest, 
 In Thee alone the soul, outworn, refreshment 
 
 finds and rest. 
 
 Bend, gracious Spirit, from above, like these o'er- 
 arching skies. 
 
 And to Thy firmament of love lift up these long- 
 ing eyes ; 
 
 37 
 
38 VESPER HYMN 
 
 And folded by Thy sheltering Hand, in refuge 
 
 still and deep, 
 Let blessed thoughts from Thee descend, as drop 
 
 the dews of sleep. 
 
 And when refreshed, the soul once more puts on 
 
 new life and power ; 
 Oh let Thine image, Lord, alone, gild the first 
 
 waking hour. 
 Let that dear Presence rise and glow, fairer than 
 
 morn's first ray. 
 And Thy pure radiance overflow the splendor of 
 
 the day. 
 
 So in the hastening evening, so in the coming 
 
 morn, 
 When deeper slumber shall be given, and fresher 
 
 life be born, 
 
VESPER HYMN 39 
 
 Shine out, true Light ! to guide my way amid that 
 deepening gloom, 
 
 And rise, O Morning Star, the first that day- 
 spring to illume. 
 
 I cannot dread the darkness, where Thou wilt 
 
 watch o'er me. 
 Nor smile to greet the sunrise, unless Thy smile 
 
 I see j 
 Creator, Saviour, Comforter ! on Thee my soul is 
 
 cast; 
 At morn, at night, in earth, in heaven, be Thou 
 
 my First and Last. 
 October, 1874. 
 
 ? 
 
COLLECT FOR ASCENSION DAY 
 
 Grant, we beseech thee, Almighty God, that like as we 
 do believe thy only begotten Son our Lord Jesus Christ to 
 have ascended into the heavens ; so we may also in heart 
 and mind thither ascend, and with him continually dwell, 
 who liveth and reigneth with thee and the Holy Ghost, one 
 God, world without end. 
 
 Thou hast gone up again, 
 
 Thou, who didst first come down, 
 
 Thou hast gone up to reign, 
 Gone up, from Cross to Crown. 
 
 Beyond the opening sky 
 
 No more Thy face we see ; 
 Yet draw our souls on high, 
 
 That we may dwell with Thee. 
 40 
 
COLLECT FOR ASCENSION DA V 
 Up to those regions blest, 
 
 Where faith has fullest sway, 
 Up to Thine endless rest, 
 Up to Thy cloudless day. 
 
 Up to that glowing life. 
 Up to that perfect peace, 
 
 Unvexed by doubt or strife. 
 Where care and conflict cease, 
 
 Up, up to where Thou art. 
 Fount of unwasting Love, 
 
 Up to that mighty Heart, 
 All its great power to prove. 
 
 Not now for distant heaven 
 Or future life we pray. 
 
COLLECT FOR ASCENSION DAY 
 Lord, let Thy grace be given 
 To make us Thine to-day. 
 
 Here, hold us in Thy hand, 
 Here, by Thy spirit guide, 
 
 So shall our hearts ascend, 
 And still with Thee abide. 
 
 May 14, 1874. 
 
COLLECT FOR SECOND SUNDAY AFTER 
 EPIPHANY 
 
 Almighty and everlasting God, who dost govern all things 
 in heaven and earth ; mercifully hear the supplications of 
 thy people, and grant us thy peace all the days of our life ; 
 through Jesus Christ our Lord. 
 
 Grant us Thy peace, down from Thy presence 
 
 falling 
 
 As on the thirsty earth cool night-dews sweet, 
 
 Grant us Thy peace, to Thy pure paths recalling, 
 
 From devious ways, our worn and wandering 
 
 feet. 
 
 Grant us Thy peace, through winning and through 
 losing. 
 Through gloom and gladness of our pilgrim 
 way, 
 
 43 
 
44 SECOND SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY 
 Grant us Thy peace, safe in Thy love's enclosing, 
 Thou, who all things in heaven and earth dost 
 sway. 
 
 Give us Thy peace, not as the world has given 
 In momentary rays that fitful gleamed. 
 
 But calm, deep, sure, the peace of spirits shriven, 
 Of hearts surrendered and of souls redeemed. 
 
 Grant us Thy peace, that like a deepening river 
 Swells ever outward to a sea of praise. 
 
 O Thou, of peace the only Lord and Giver, 
 Grant us Thy peace, O Saviour, all our days ! 
 
THANKSGIVING 
 
 " We bless Thee ... for the means of grace and for the 
 hope of glory." 
 
 For the rapt stillness of the place 
 Where sacred song and ordered prayer 
 
 Wait the unveiling of Thy face, 
 
 And seek Thy angels' joys to share ; 
 
 For souls won o'er to truth and right, 
 For wisdom dropping as the dew, 
 
 For Thy great Word in lines of light, 
 Made visible to mortal view ; 
 
 For gladness of the summer morning, 
 For fair faint twilight's lingering ray, 
 45 
 
46 THANKSGIVING 
 
 For forest's and for field's adorning, 
 And the wild ocean's ceaseless play ; 
 
 For flowers unsought, in desert places 
 Flashing enchantment on the sight ; 
 
 For radiance on familiar faces 
 As they passed upward into light ; 
 
 For blessings of the fruitful season, 
 
 For work and rest, for friends and home, 
 
 For the great gifts of thought and reason, — 
 To praise and bless Thee, Lord, we come. 
 
 Yes, and for weeping and for wailing. 
 For bitter hail and blighting frost, 
 
THANKSGIVING 47 
 
 For high hopes on the low earth trailing, 
 For sweet joys missed, for pure aims crost ; 
 
 For lonely toil and tribulation. 
 
 And e'en for hidings of Thy face, — 
 
 For these Thy heralds of salvation. 
 Thy means and messengers of grace. 
 
 With joy supreme, with faith unbroken. 
 With worship passing thought or speech. 
 
 Of Thy dear love we hail each token, 
 And give Thee humble thanks for each. 
 
 For o'er our struggling and our sighing, 
 Now quenched in mist, now glimmering far 
 
48 THANKSGIVING 
 
 Above our living and our dying, 
 
 Hangs high in Heaven one beckoning star. 
 
 And when we gather up the story 
 Of all Thy mercies flowing free, 
 
 Crown of them all, that hope of glory, 
 Of growing ever nearer Thee. 
 
THE WILD ROSE 
 
 TO A YOUNG FRIEND 
 (v. D. S.) 
 
 Fair are the flowers the tardy Spring, 
 
 At last fulfilling all our hope 
 With largess late, is wont to fling 
 
 Along our Northern slope. 
 
 For us the cowslip sheds its gold ; 
 
 For us the May-flower breathes perfume ; 
 And in our meadows, low and cold, 
 
 White violets bloom. 
 
 But some resplendent morn of June, 
 When sunbeams thrill with fervid power, 
 49 
 
50 THE WILD ROSE 
 
 And sea-waves chant a murmurous rune, 
 Come, see our perfect flower. 
 
 From sunset skies of molten red 
 
 Her deeply glowing hues were wrought ; 
 
 From pearly shell in ocean's bed 
 Her paler tints were caught. 
 
 Her tender greenery gently fills 
 With graceful, softened shape 
 
 The outline of the rugged hills 
 All round our Cape. 
 
 She flashes in the deepest wood ; 
 
 We trace her by the brooklet's edge ; 
 But most where billows harsh and rude 
 
 Beat on the cruel ledge. 
 
THE WILD ROSE 51 
 
 Her dauntless smile we love to greet : 
 
 Life's central radiance through her flows j 
 Her fragrance makes the east wind sweet — 
 
 Our beautiful Wild Rose. 
 
 So, to our Duty's sober days, 
 
 By salt waves lapped, by sharp crags torn — 
 So, to our sombre shaded ways. 
 
 Set round by brake and thorn — 
 
 In modest pride of gracious youth, 
 With heart of love, with soul serene, 
 
 With dewy purity and truth. 
 She comes, our Eglantine. 
 
THE MORNING WATCH 
 
 Along the horizon's utmost line 
 Behold a presage and a sign ! 
 Dull heavy night-clouds roll away : 
 The east is flecked with shimmering gray ; 
 Then glows afar a rosy mist 
 That melts in purest amethyst ; 
 Then crimson-tipped the billows run, 
 And lo ! the advent of the sun^ 
 
 Where stands God's Altar, duteous feet 
 Hasten to Him Who comes to greet 
 As evermore His two or three. 
 O wondrous thought ! Can this be He 
 Who walked the waves, Who calmed the sea, 
 52 
 
THE MORNING WATCH 53 
 
 And still above its rush and roar, 
 Sitteth a King forevermore ? 
 
 Behold He cometh ! round His Feet, 
 Like pearly clouds of incense sweet, 
 Float words of prayer and songs of praise — 
 The offering trembling hearts may raise. 
 Above the restless, tossing sea 
 Of Life, that moaneth wearily. 
 Above our sins, our wants, our woes, 
 Out from the Heaven of His repose, 
 
 His Presence shines. O Host Divine ! 
 In glow of sacrificial Wine 
 From Mercy's deeps for us outpoured, 
 Lighten our eyes to know our Lord ! 
 Guide of the lost. Star of the Sea, 
 
54 THE MORNING WATCH 
 
 Call home these straying hearts to Thee, 
 And let us praise Thee as is meet, 
 And our most bounden duty sweet. 
 
 Until the Morning Watch is o'er, 
 And on the far Eternal Shore 
 Dawns the New Day that sets no more. 
 Atlantic City, February 2, 1894.