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 > OTHER POEMS 
 
 HACON
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 \ 
 
 X i'^/^.^ //c^^^ 
 

 
 THE INCARNATION 
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 
 
 By HENRY HACON, 
 
 Vicar of Searby-cum-Owmby, Lincolnshire. 
 
 Brigg : 
 JACKSON AND SONS. 
 
 London : 
 SIMPKLN, MARSHALL, HAMILTON, KENT & CO., LTD. 
 
 1898.
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 PR 
 
 H II.' 
 
 In 1 85 1 some juvenile verses of mine were pub- 
 lished at my native town, Swaffham, in Norfolk. 
 So that it is after a lonof interval that I am ven- 
 taring to put forth another book. It contains 
 what I have written during the last year or two. 
 In the larger poem I have glanced at the mis- 
 take of separating the Atonement as a doctrine 
 from the doctrine of the Incarnation; in other 
 words of making the Incarnation simply a neces- 
 sary prelude to the Atonement instead of accept- 
 ing the Incarnation as that great counsel of the 
 Eternal God (of which the Atonement is a part), 
 the climax of which is to be the conversion of the 
 world and the union of its races into one holy 
 temple on the two foundation stones, which that 
 Incarnation has blended into one, of the Father- 
 hood of God and the Brotherhood of Man. How 
 far I have succeeded in giving expression to this 
 truth must be left to the verdict of the reader. 
 Both of this poem and of the shorter ones that 
 follow, I would say in the motto of an old 
 English bard : 
 
 Candide, si mala sint nostra inter carmina, parce ; 
 £t bona si quae sint, Zoile, parco tibi. 
 
 Searby Vicarage, 
 September 12, 1898. 
 
 922006
 
 TO MY NATIVE TOWN. 
 
 Rigid Utility's unsparing hand 
 
 Hath fenced in all the commons of the land. 
 
 And so thy wild heath, Swaffham, now no more 
 
 Sweeps round thee as it did in days of yore. 
 
 There oft I wandered in that happy time 
 
 When first my thoughts did wed themselves to 
 
 rhyme. 
 And now, impelled by that sweet memory, 
 I dedicate these later lays to thee.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 The Incarnation 
 
 Then and Now . 
 
 A Vanished Face 
 
 The Voice of the Creation 
 
 The Voice of the Angel 
 
 Judith 
 
 Laughter .... 
 Weariness .... 
 From Birth to Life 
 
 45 
 47 
 49 
 52 
 57 
 60 
 
 62 
 63
 
 THE INCARNATION. 
 
 Swifter than the light of morning travels from 
 
 its central source 
 Angel-messengers from Heaven were speeding 
 
 on their earthward course ; 
 And as spirit speaks with spirit in a tongue to 
 
 man unknown 
 Was the wondrous consummation of a hidden pur- 
 pose shewn ; 
 And the Great Eternal Presence boundless as 
 
 the boundless space, 
 Seemed at one mysterious moment to assume 
 
 that winning grace 
 Which is seen when worldly greatness stooping 
 
 from its station high 
 Draws from hearts a holier homage by its meek 
 
 humility. 
 E'en as when some high-born mortal gives his 
 
 hands to servile toil, 
 Easing in his weary day-task a poor brother of 
 
 the soil. 
 For at that mysterious moment, where the resting 
 
 cattle fed,
 
 a T[IF INCARNATION. 
 
 One beccime a fccl^lc Infant in a Bethlehem 
 
 stablc-shcd : 
 He the Son, the Wellbeloved, Second of the 
 
 Primal Three, 
 In the Bosom of the Father restin'- from 
 
 eternity. 
 Coming in His lowly greatness from a stainless 
 
 Virgin's womb 
 For a life of daily labour and a humble cottage 
 
 home. 
 In the world of art and nature searching eye 
 
 could never see 
 Aught that gives a worthy image of that awful 
 
 mystery : 
 Yet from art and nature's garden human thought 
 
 may dare to cull, 
 As she treads its windino- mazes drinking in the 
 
 beautiful. 
 Here and there a fragrant blossom which her 
 
 hand may fitly twine 
 For a wreath where richer offerings blaze before 
 
 His lowly shrine. 
 Think we then, in lordly Athens how great 
 
 Pheidias of old 
 Bodied forth his spirit's vision in the ivory and 
 
 the eold :
 
 THE INCARNATION. 3 
 
 Thus by Spirit-wrought conception in that Beth- 
 lehem stable lay 
 
 Essence Uncreate Eternal coupled with soul- 
 quickened clay. 
 
 For by power more than Pheidian in Redemp- 
 tion's gracious plan, 
 
 Not a false god but the True God deified the 
 form of man. 
 
 Look too where in cloudless ether night's meek 
 maiden mounting higher 
 
 Draws a superadded splendour from some planet's 
 silver fire : 
 
 So it was when Heaven's Daystar sheltered from 
 earth's rude alarms 
 
 Lay in infant weakness folded in the Virgin- 
 mother's arms. 
 
 For the star that adds the splendour, though so 
 small to mortal sight, 
 
 In its glory and its vastness soars above the 
 satellite. 
 
 Thus it was that the Great Presence circling 
 heaven and earth and sea 
 
 Gave a sign that mortal man was One with His 
 Infinity. 
 
 And the angels caught the signal, and, revealed 
 in glory bright,
 
 4 TflE INCARNATION. 
 
 Told the tidinL;-.s to the shepherds walchiiiL;- o'er 
 
 their llock by night. 
 Oil tlie wonder, oli the i^lory, oh tlie benefit 
 
 unpriced, 
 Of the Hypostatic Union in the Person of the 
 
 Christ ! 
 Sitteth He that lowly craftsman heir of want and 
 
 woe and pain 
 Where the angels at His glory veil their eyes 
 
 with pinions twain ; 
 And the God whose word of power ruleth heaven 
 
 and earth and hell, 
 Sits a worn and weary wanderer asking water at 
 
 the well. 
 
 Mortal man whose soid hath followed science in 
 
 her wondrous llight, 
 Tracing all her starry progress through the 
 
 watches of the night, 
 Let thy knowledge teach thee wisdom : how 
 
 much really dost thou know 
 Of the common things around thee in thy brief 
 
 life here below ? 
 Evermore is science baflled : all her triumphs 
 
 seem to teach
 
 THE INCARNATION. 5 
 
 That beyond them Heth mystery which no human 
 
 quest can reach. 
 CHmb to mental heio-hts no other mortal man 
 
 hath ever trod : 
 Then fall down and kiss the shadow of the 
 
 mystery of God ! 
 
 Seemeth it a thing that passes all belief that He 
 
 whose word 
 The deaf void of non-existence in obedient 
 
 silence heard, 
 Bursting into germs of being for development 
 
 sublime, 
 yEon merging into aeon in the onward lapse of 
 
 time, 
 Should forego His Godhead's greatness, and, 
 
 enwrapped in swaddling bands, 
 Take a poor and lowly portion with the creatures 
 
 of His hands ? 
 Go we then in humble pondering to the revelation 
 
 high 
 Which declares the searchless mystery of the Holy 
 
 i rmity. 
 Never must we in that doctrine fail the difference 
 
 to see
 
 6 THE INCARNATION. 
 
 Twixt the One Eternal Essence and the Per- 
 
 sonalit)'. 
 Life inherent hath the Father, life that could be 
 
 (j;iven by none ; 
 And to have that life inherent He hath given to 
 
 the Son. 
 And the Eternal Son from heaven was sent to do 
 
 the Father's will ; 
 And His meat and drink was ever that great 
 
 purpose to fulfil. 
 In that Triune Life Eternal Perfect without void 
 
 or flaw 
 Thus we see in mystic dimness meek subordi- 
 nation's law. 
 So an earthly son and father both a common 
 
 nature own ; 
 But the son's subordination by the very name is 
 
 shown. 
 Thus it is that God's sweet order man's rude 
 
 violence doth leaven ; 
 For the things of earth are shadows of the higher 
 
 things in heaven. 
 Vain to ask : " Could God's free mercy fettered be 
 
 to such a plan ? " 
 Rather mark the demonstration of His wondrous 
 
 love to man ;
 
 THE INCARNATION. 7 
 
 And, as fruit of that example, how in many a soul 
 
 of worth 
 Godlike love can quell and conquer all the blan- 
 dishments of earth ; 
 Where a man, for mission-labour to reclaim a 
 
 world undone 
 In a deadly sphere of duty, doth not spare his only 
 
 son ; 
 Or where one in youth's fresh vigour, drawn by 
 
 love's resistless spell, 
 Gives himself to holy labour where the loathly 
 
 lepers dwell. 
 And the gate is closed upon him till he draws his 
 
 latest breath 
 Poisoned by the fell contagion of that brotherhood 
 
 of death. 
 Look acrain what shades incongruous form the 
 
 texture of man's life, 
 Order with disorder mingling in a never-ending 
 
 strife. 
 In him is a noble instinct that doth urge him to 
 
 aspire 
 Evermore and evermore to something deeper, 
 
 broader, higher, 
 Ever altering or destroying that which he hath but 
 
 begun.
 
 THE INCARNATION. 
 
 Following hope that beckons onward till a farther 
 
 goal IS won. 
 
 But the range of active working mortal man can 
 
 compass here 
 At its hest is all too narrow fur his soul's sublime 
 
 career. 
 Plans and projects stand unfmished when his 
 
 working days have sped, 
 Like the shattered shaft that mourneth over the 
 
 untimely dead. 
 
 Heaven's sweet boons of love and friendship seem 
 
 precarious gifts of chance, 
 Resting, flitting, gleaming, fading, like the wild- 
 fire's fitful dance. 
 Many nmtually fitted to combine in concord sweet 
 Live and die in lonely longing, for they never 
 
 chance to meet. 
 And though of a lull expansion every sign the bud 
 
 may show, 
 Death or change or chance may wither the fair 
 
 flower ere it blow. 
 For a little boy and maiden come with spirits free 
 
 and wild 
 For a summer morning's pastime with a solitary 
 
 child.
 
 THE INCARNATION. 9 
 
 What are all the acquisitions to which older hearts 
 
 are glued 
 To his joy that summer morning in his sylvan 
 
 solitude, 
 As he points out all the wonders of the hill-side 
 
 and the plain, 
 Sits with them upon the green grass, lengthening 
 
 a daisy-chain, 
 And within his infant bosom feels the first delicious 
 
 thrill 
 Of that heaven-born affection which alone the heart 
 
 can fill ? 
 But those bright, fresh hours of sweetest soul- 
 communion quickly fly, 
 And the joyous summer shouting changeth to a 
 
 sad good-bye. 
 And he stands in speechless sorrow, and his tears 
 
 begin to flow, 
 Watchinof them as throuorh the meadows hand in 
 
 hand they homeward go. 
 Other things will stir his bosom, other things will 
 
 fill his day ; 
 Fairy forms of sunbright fancies stay their wings 
 
 with him to play. 
 But at times o'er his young spirit comes a boding 
 
 sense of pain.
 
 lo THE INCARNATION. 
 
 As, with pensive biow, hi; lliinkctli : " Will they 
 
 ever conic a<;ain ?" 
 No, my child; for fever's blii^htinL^ power hath 
 
 their pathway crossed ; 
 And tliy playmates of an hour are amonf^ the 
 
 loved and lost. 
 Through the stages, as they follow, of his ever- 
 changing life, 
 lie may meet with much to cheer him in the 
 
 world's connictinof strife : 
 Comrade-schoolmates' arms thrown round him, 
 
 mutual secrets heard and told. 
 Sympathies of heart more precious than the miser's 
 
 hoarded gold ; 
 Gentle hands to smooth his pillow when his 
 
 temples thruh with pain ; 
 Words of love and power that make his fainting 
 
 spirit strong again — 
 But through all the lights and shadows of a long 
 
 life's chequered round 
 Love and friendship in their fulness never never 
 
 hadi he found. 
 And a gray-haired man is sitting by his solitary 
 
 hearth, 
 Weighing heaven's unseen com[)leteness with the 
 
 emptiness of earth.
 
 THE INCARNATION. ii 
 
 World-distractions once so potent now no more 
 
 his soul can move ; 
 And his heart is sad within him, pining for a little 
 
 love. 
 And his thoughts are going backvvard to that 
 
 happy summer day 
 When the little boy and maiden joined him in his 
 
 merry play, 
 Back to the green grassy meadows where they 
 
 wove their daisy-chain; 
 And once more he asks the question : ''Will they 
 
 ever come again?" 
 
 Yes, how soon the bright tints vanish of our child- 
 hood's early morn ; 
 
 And the shadows deepen o'er us as we near our 
 destined bourne. 
 
 Still that joy, though all the dewv freshness of its 
 prime hath fled, 
 
 Giveth now and then a token that it is not wholly 
 dead. 
 
 There's a sphere of thought and feeling known 
 to us and God alone, 
 
 Where we hear the mystic music of the child-life 
 that is gone ;
 
 12 rHK L\CAR.\ATION. 
 
 And it acts ii[)un the spirit like tlic wind-harp's 
 
 whispering string, 
 Or the sweet and subtile odour of the early blooms 
 
 of spring. 
 But the din that rises ever from the world's un- 
 
 restini/ thronir 
 Drowns the soothinir intonation of its murnuirous 
 
 undersonof. 
 
 Would'st thou then in faith and patience grasp a 
 
 truth that can assuage 
 All the woe and weary languor of thine earthly 
 
 pilgrimage, 
 Ponder thou the wondrous doctrine on which hangs 
 
 the gracious plan 
 Of fallen man's regeneration : " Man is God and 
 
 God is Man." 
 Twixt the sinful woe-worn mortal and the God he 
 
 cannot reach 
 Lo the mighty Daysman standeth, and a pierced 
 
 hand toucheth each. 
 And by virtue of that contact man a perfect life 
 
 can win, 
 Where his heart shall faint no longer 'neath the 
 
 weary stress of sin,
 
 THE INCARNATION. 13 
 
 Grasping the full compensation of that glorious 
 
 new birth, 
 Reading all the hopeless riddles which perplexed 
 
 hini here on earth, 
 Finding friendships which had withered green 
 
 again, as Aaron's rod 
 Burst forth into bloom and fruitage 'neath the 
 
 quickening power of God, 
 Free from death's foreboding shadow, free from 
 
 every care and pain, 
 The crlad joy-bells of his childhood ringing in his 
 
 heart ao-ain. 
 
 O 
 
 All too feeble is our earthly embryo vision to 
 
 descry 
 What thou art and what thou art not, fathomless 
 
 eternity ! 
 Strive we how we may to rise up into thy sublime 
 
 idea. 
 Still we people thee with forms that are familiar 
 
 to us here. 
 Boundless space — within whose vastness all the 
 
 rolling spheres of light, 
 All the suns whose scintillations gem the dusky 
 
 brow of nip^ht,
 
 14 THE I XCAR NATION. 
 
 Are but as the tiny midores of tlie sultry summer 
 
 day, 
 That in inter-twining orbits spin tlieir h'ttle lives 
 
 away — 
 Gives no solid consolation to the restless soul ol 
 
 man, 
 Claims no kindred with the heart-joys of his beinc^'s 
 
 earthly span. 
 Speculation speaketh to him : " Mortal, let thy 
 ' spirit's eye 
 
 Pierce the cloud that veils the mystery of thine 
 
 unseen destiny. 
 Up on hic^hcr scales of being thou shalt mount 
 
 for evermore, 
 Every dawning acquisition richer than the one 
 
 before : 
 Unknown powers of spirit-rapture, unknown 
 
 powers of force and will ; 
 Objects in succession endless all those faculties 
 
 to fill. 
 Ay, 'twere well if we could Ijring ourselves by 
 
 exercise intense 
 To a pillared saint's abstraction from the things 
 
 oi time and sense. 
 But our soul mid the conditions of a finite life 
 
 like this
 
 THE INCARNATION. 15 
 
 Droops and faints beneath the heavy burden of so 
 vast a bliss. 
 
 We would fain imagine something less 
 oppressively sublime, 
 
 Some restored and sinless pattern of this life of 
 sense and time. 
 
 Use hath mighty power o'er us : here our sen- 
 tient life begun ; 
 
 In their grooves our habits circle like the planets 
 round the sun. 
 
 Though his heart can dance no lono-er to the 
 ringing chords of mirth, 
 
 Yet man clings with fond persistence to his 
 heritage of earth. 
 
 Fair and sweet as infant-dreamings sprino- hath 
 flown on rainbow wines ; 
 
 Summer hours have passed for ever with the 
 warmth that summer brines ; 
 
 Autumn of its teeming fruitage gave a rich and 
 full supply ; 
 
 Scant and withered are the relics that within the 
 garner lie. 
 
 But the man, though sitting sad and silent in his 
 wintered home, 
 
 Croucheth o'er life's dying embers till his sleeping- 
 time is come.
 
 l6 THE INCARNATION. 
 
 Thus althouLih wc feel assured it is better to 
 
 depart, 
 Yet the old life-lonq; conditions keep their hold 
 
 upon the heart, 
 And thouc(h how 'twill be we know not, yet we 
 
 trust that there will be 
 A revival of our earth-joys in the great 
 
 eternity. 
 And He who came to dwell among us, Head and 
 
 Saviour of our race, 
 Showeth that the two conditions may 
 
 harmoniously embrace. 
 Though He spoke in solemn warning of the awful 
 
 doom of sin ; 
 Though He taught us we must bravely fight if we 
 
 a crown would win ; 
 Though He tells us we must sternly pluck out the 
 
 offending eye, 
 Cut the hand off that would draw us from the 
 
 paths of sanctity ; 
 Yet He shared in man's rejoicings where the 
 
 marriage-feast was spread, 
 Groaned in spirit with the mourners who were 
 
 weeping for their dead ; 
 And He shews us the poor wanderer to his 
 
 father's love restored,
 
 THE INCARNATION. 17 
 
 Once more in a son's apparel sitting at his father's 
 
 board ; 
 And the music and the dancing filled the hall with 
 
 festive sound 
 For the dead son that was livino- and the lost one 
 
 that was found. 
 And our life in all the fulness of its sympathy 
 
 and love 
 He hath joined in endless union to the perfect 
 
 life above. 
 Thus the overpowering grandeur of the life that 
 
 is to be 
 Softens neath the homelike colours of the things 
 
 which here we see. 
 So, while all the valley round me laughed in 
 
 summer light below, 
 Have I seen the Himalayas in their everlasting 
 
 snow. 
 There they stand, those mighty landmarks, planted 
 
 by the Hand of God ; 
 There upstretch the icy passes ne'er by human 
 
 footstep trod ; 
 Bulge the buttresses tremendous from yon bul- 
 wark's frowning wall, 
 Where the stern unbroken silence doth the very 
 
 heart appal. 
 
 c
 
 1 8 THE INCARNATION. 
 
 With a gaze of silent rapture we that distant 
 
 scene behold ; 
 Yet we seem to shiver in us : lor it looks so 
 
 deadly cold. 
 But the sun that o'er the earth's wide circuit 
 
 spreads his golden light, 
 In his occidental glory sinking slowly from our 
 
 sight, 
 Over yonder glittering home of snow a gorgeous 
 
 mantle throws, 
 Tinging all its marble grandeur with the colour 
 
 of the rose. 
 
 Sinner, in thy chainlcss freewill thou hast played 
 
 an evil part, 
 And the guilt of thy transgression lieth heavy on 
 
 thine heart. 
 Rules of wise and holy living taught thee when 
 
 thy years were young 
 In the ripening of thy manhood's folly to the 
 
 winds were flung. 
 Thus, with faltering steps deserting wisdom's 
 
 straight and narrow way, 
 Thou did'st try some smoother bypath lured by 
 
 pleasure's Siren lay.
 
 THE INCARNATION. 19 
 
 But not long thy footsteps falter : crowned with 
 
 riot's drooping flowers, 
 Thou art blindly, madly, wasting all thy young 
 
 life's golden hours. 
 And although thy palate sickens, there's a hand 
 
 that doth supply 
 For thy pall'd inebriation cups of deadlier 
 
 potency. 
 Deeper, darker, grows thy ruin ; to the dog 
 
 whose dinninof tongue 
 Fills thee with forebodings drear an atheistic sop 
 
 is fluncr : 
 
 " They are fools and blind who credit all that 
 
 men have fondly said 
 Of a great unseen Creator who shall judge the 
 
 quick and dead. 
 'Tis the weary repetition of an old and worn out 
 
 sonof 
 
 Which the policy of priestcraft through the ages 
 
 doth prolong, 
 Cheating us with specious shadows of imaginary 
 
 good, 
 Offering empty cups and platters in exchange for 
 
 solid food. 
 For man cometh as the brute comes, and his 
 
 functions are the same ;
 
 20 THE INCARNATION. 
 
 And he dieth as the brute dies, and is but an 
 
 empty name." 
 But though tluis thou hast departed from thy 
 
 Maker, yet doth He 
 Of His love and tender mercy still retain a hold 
 
 on thee, 
 Through the midnight silence speaking in a voice 
 
 with terror rife, 
 E'en as when the thunder crashes o'er a levin- 
 blasted life ; 
 And thy dormant conscience, wakened from its 
 
 slumber by that voice. 
 Owns the depth of thy transgression, owns the 
 
 folly of thy choice. 
 Far worse than the moral doubter in thine error 
 
 thou hast been : 
 His fault is a vicious judgment ; thou hast bartered 
 
 faith for sin. 
 Know thou surely atheistic thought, so far from 
 
 being free, 
 Is for man the direst, bitterest, soul-ensluickling 
 
 slavery. 
 If thou ask why demonstration is not open to 
 
 thine eye. 
 In thine own self-conscious being thou can'st read 
 
 a full reply.
 
 THE INCARNATION. 21 
 
 Think of all thy body's functions : thou would'st 
 
 never say, I ween, 
 That in \valking, running, leaping, 'twas a self- 
 impelled machine. 
 Art thou not thyself the will whose impulse all 
 
 that motion sways, 
 And whose faintest hint the body simultaneously 
 
 obeys ? 
 Can'st thou frame a mental mirror where the 
 
 features of that will 
 Backward thrown upon themselves a perfect 
 
 semblance shall fulfill ? 
 Would'st thou then the true existence of thy 
 
 conscious self deny 
 Because no form of it is focussed in the circle of 
 
 thine eye ? 
 What else therefore is it, only in a richer, higher, 
 
 way. 
 The great universe around thee working without 
 
 stint or stay. 
 Stretching on, and ever onward, in its grand and 
 
 cosmic plan 
 Farther far than thy weak sight with all its optic 
 
 helps can scan, 
 Elements together mingrlinor from whose action 
 
 swift or slow
 
 23 THE INCARNATION. 
 
 Issue forms of complex beauty human workshops 
 
 cannot show ? 
 Plain It is then, though He be impervious to our 
 
 human sense, 
 There must be a oreat Propelhng Personal 
 
 Omnipotence. 
 Yes, the reasons that have led thee thy Creator 
 
 to deny 
 Stand on worse grounds than the grounds of 
 
 sceptical philosophy. 
 God was a restraint upon thee in thy passions' 
 
 evil day : 
 Thou would'st crush it into nothing, sweep the 
 
 bugbear clean away. 
 Now at length of thy transgression thou dost taste 
 
 the bitter part, 
 
 And the vulture retribution feeds upon thy living 
 heart. 
 
 But no Titan-courage in thee, witli a sullen sense 
 
 of wrong, 
 Steels thee in thy spirit's bitter dole " to suffer 
 
 and be strong." 
 And thy life upholds thee only to endure thy 
 
 misery, 
 Like the plank that bears the shipwrecked sailor 
 
 up upon the sea.
 
 THE INCARNATION. 23 
 
 And the sky is brass above him, and the wave is 
 
 Hquid fire ; 
 And the eyes of hungry monsters follow him with 
 
 fell desire ; 
 And he drifteth till night's darkness adds its 
 
 horror to his doom : 
 O'er the lonesome waste of waters now no human 
 
 help can come. 
 Thou would'st fain shake off the terror, and 
 
 forgiving mercy clasp, 
 And tear thyself once and for ever from thy 
 
 sorrow's clinging grasp ; 
 And thou criest from the dark and dismal depth 
 
 of thy despair : 
 " Is there any balm in Gilead ? Is there a 
 
 physician there ? " 
 For between thee and thy Maker stands a wall of 
 
 triple brass, 
 Through whose folds thy fainting spirit struggles 
 
 all in vain to pass. 
 
 But at length a healing power o'er thy sickness 
 
 seems to move ; 
 And the song of the creation is once more the 
 
 voice of love.
 
 24 THE INCARNATION. 
 
 Now to taste of purer pleasure ; now from what 
 
 God made so <^ood 
 To supply thy spirit's healthy craving with its 
 
 proper food. 
 Ocean's briny breeze shall check the creeping 
 
 growth of languor's pain, 
 And bring the rosy flush of health back to thy 
 
 pallid cheek again. 
 Free from carking care's distraction, thou shalt 
 
 rove from clime to clime, 
 Where thy fertile fancy revelled in the day-dreams 
 
 of thy prime. 
 Fairest scenes of earth shall charm thee with an 
 
 ever-new delight ; 
 Cities of renown shall open all their treasures to 
 
 thy sight. 
 Ah, poor mortal, trusting this way permanent 
 
 repose to win ! 
 Thou art blind to the insidious power of formulated 
 
 sin : 
 For as when in some hidden hollow of the mine 
 
 a vapour stays. 
 To strike terror by its ghost-like murmur after 
 
 many days : 
 So can sin, by this or that diversion for awhile 
 
 kept under,
 
 THE INCARNATION. 25 
 
 Uplift its cruel sword again and cleave the very 
 
 soul asunder. 
 Tis as if the boaconstrictor should relax his dire 
 
 embrace, 
 For an antepast of false hope in his helpless 
 
 victim's face. 
 There is that can charm the serpent, and his deadly 
 
 folds shall be 
 Weak as are the trustful twinings of the arms of 
 
 infancy. 
 But thou yet must learn a lesson deeper, if not 
 
 bitterer, far, 
 Of how vain without thy Maker all thy best 
 
 endeavours are. 
 
 In thy desultory wanderings thou hast come to 
 
 mighty Rome, 
 Once the Old World's stately palace, now its 
 
 grand memorial tomb. 
 By an interest unflagging day by day thy feet are 
 
 led 
 To the ruined homes and hauntings of the great 
 
 historic dead. 
 Thou art standing in the Forum, and the stones 
 
 beneath thy feet
 
 26 THE INCARNATION. 
 
 Are of those that Horace trod on near the 
 
 cloistered Vestals' seat, 
 When the opportune subpoena gave the courtly 
 
 poet rest 
 PVom the intolerable babbling of his pertinacious 
 
 pest. 
 From the lower excavations now thou wendest to 
 
 the hill 
 Where the lives of trembling courtiers hung upon 
 
 a tyrant's will, 
 And thy keen imagination revels in its strength 
 
 among 
 Those crumblinir walls which still rin<jf back the 
 
 echoes of satiric song : 
 Here, Rome's lords, in due obedience to the 
 
 imperial behest. 
 Sat in ori'ave deliberation how the turbot should 
 
 be dressed ; 
 There, still shines the tessellated pavement of 
 
 the banquet-room 
 Where, in purple-cushioned ease reclining, 
 
 favoured guests had come ; 
 And the eyes of Caesar gloated when he saw the 
 
 monstrous fish 
 All but overlap the spreading margin of the 
 
 Samian dish.
 
 THE INCARNATION. 27 
 
 But ere half thine explorations are completed thou 
 
 dost feel 
 The shadow of a weary languor o'er thy sated 
 
 spirit steal. 
 But change of scene can still stave off that creep- 
 ing horror's deadly hold, 
 Like fresh fuel on the fire that keeps the tiger 
 
 from the fold. 
 So from land to land thou rovest like the legen- 
 dary Jew, 
 After dead enjoyment ever seeking something 
 
 strangfe and new. 
 Thus, not finding what thou lackest in fresh 
 
 places, thou art come 
 Again to wander mid the stately ruins of imperial 
 
 Rome. 
 And thou triest to be happy : but in vain : for joy 
 
 is free 
 And forceless as the glinting light that dances on 
 
 the summer sea. 
 Now a sudden recollection moves thy fancy to 
 
 explore 
 The Tabularium's gloomy chambers ; for when 
 
 thou wert there before 
 Thou wast near a hidden danger from an un- 
 
 fenced stair beneath ;
 
 28 THE INCARNATION. 
 
 And, stumbling at it in tlie darkness, thou 
 miuht'st well have met thy death. 
 
 Now upon the wall beside a little oil-lamp's 
 friendly glow 
 
 Breaks the thick olooni and warns the traveller 
 of the treacherous depth below. 
 
 "Ah, since then" thou thinkcst "someone must 
 have death or damage found," 
 
 While I, escaping such disaster, stand here once 
 more safe and sound. 
 
 Is it merely chance that brings me to this self- 
 same spot to-day ? 
 
 Rather, is it not a voice from God, inviting me 
 to pray ? 
 
 Surely His love was waiting till in union com- 
 plete 
 
 Conditions tending to my spirit's permanent 
 repose should meet." 
 
 And thou lookest up to heaven for remission of 
 thy sin. 
 
 And for grace to cleanse thine heart from every 
 stain that lurks within. 
 
 And a loving presence round thee seems to scatter 
 all thy fears. 
 
 Bringing back the careless calm and buoyant hope 
 of earlier years ;
 
 7 HE INCARNATION. 29 
 
 And thou criest in a welcome sense of rest from 
 weary strife ; 
 
 " Oh be this my joyful birthday to a new and 
 better life ! " 
 
 And, as if in gratulation of thy soul's release, 
 there swells 
 
 Through the vault's imprisoned gloom a mingled 
 peal of sweet church bells. 
 
 For it is the Eve of Easter when Rome's streets 
 and lanes along 
 
 Sounds the silver-chiming prelude of her resurrec- 
 tion-song. 
 
 As when one who loves to wander where the 
 spring with lavish hand 
 
 Scattereth her boons of beauty o'er the winter- 
 wasted land, 
 
 Sees the young buds of the hawthorn, sweetest 
 flower of sweet Maytime, 
 
 Drooping 'neath the untimely rigour of the 
 blossom -blighting rime : 
 
 But the sun beats back the spoiler, and the flower 
 clothes the thorn, 
 
 To cheer the hearts of early workers at the open- 
 ing of the morn ; 
 
 And the breeze conveys its fragrant summons to 
 the wandering bee
 
 30 THE INCARNATION. 
 
 To gatlicr wliilc the Maytime lasteth from those 
 
 blossoms plcntcously : 
 Thus, while those sweet bells are rinorino- out their 
 
 holy Easter chime, 
 Thy sorrow-blii^hted zest of life awaketh to its 
 
 early prime. 
 So thy rovings thou renewest with a lightsome 
 
 heart again. 
 Deeming thyself free for ever from thy spirit's 
 
 heavy chain ; 
 And mid the whirl of busy cities, o'er the sweep 
 
 of dales and dells, 
 Soundcth still the soothing echo of those happy 
 
 Easter bells. 
 But how sweet soever earthly echoes sound in 
 
 marble domes, 
 At lencrth throufrh oraduated waves of mellow 
 
 murmurinof silence comes. 
 Thus what seemed a prayer-won boon thy sorrow- 
 wasted soul to bless, 
 Th()u<di thou strivest to retain it, echo-like throws 
 
 less and less ; 
 Till of all that golden sunlight every lingering 
 
 trace is gone, 
 And again thy world-worn heart is left to pine its 
 
 woe alone ;
 
 THE INCARNATION. ■ 31 
 
 And the dread recurring burden of thy weariness 
 
 and grief 
 Presses on thee all the heavier for that respite 
 
 bright and brief. 
 And while sorrow's bitter portion seems to quench 
 
 all happier choice, 
 A still more terrible temptation utters its seductive 
 
 voice : 
 "If there be a God who made thee, why when 
 
 thou hast fairly tried 
 To secure thy soul's contentment, with religion for 
 
 thy guide. 
 Should He mock a heart that trusts Him with a 
 
 vain and specious show 
 Of peace that bideth for a season but to aggravate 
 
 thy woe ? 
 Give the fruitless struggle over ! What more can 
 
 relifrion do ? 
 Wilt thou court its tantalizing visions all thy brief 
 
 life through ? 
 Fair and full has been the trial thou hast made of 
 
 the control 
 Of strict and self-restraining rules upon the im- 
 pulse of thy soul. 
 It has failed thee : bow thy neck to superstition's 
 
 yoke no more :
 
 31 THE INCARNATION. 
 
 And thy grasp on life's enjoyments will he firmer 
 than before." 
 
 But there's a voice, if man will listen, which will 
 
 drown the Siren's breath 
 That, in dulcet measure flowing, lures him to the 
 
 shores of death ; 
 And that voice with power persuasive speaketh to 
 
 thine inner ear ; 
 And, still craving for relief, thou bovvest down thy 
 
 soul to hear — 
 
 Mortal, when the voice of conscience called thee to 
 amend thy ways, 
 
 And to give to wisdom's guidance all the remnant 
 of thy days, 
 
 Far too shallow was thy turning : just a light con- 
 fession said, 
 
 A mere whitewash of repentance o'er thy black 
 transgression spread ; 
 
 Then in milder joy to seek a refuge from the sore 
 distress 
 
 Which justly upon hearts to sin enslaved is ever 
 wont to press,
 
 THE INCARNATION. 33 
 
 Mingling with it such sufficient measure of reh'gious 
 leaven 
 
 As should zest thine earthly portion with the 
 happy hope of heaven. 
 
 Did'st thou think by such a penance God's absolv- 
 ing grace to win ? 
 
 Was it ought but an addition to thine unrepented 
 sin ? 
 
 But that hour when from thy sadness thou did'st 
 
 gain a glad release, 
 And Mercy seemed to meet thy prayer with all 
 
 the fulness of its peace ; 
 And, iridescent with the lio^ht of heaven from 
 
 feelings deepest wells, 
 The fountain of thy joy leaped up responsive to 
 
 those Easter bells : 
 
 Was it but a fond delusion ? was it but a devil's 
 
 lie? 
 And if in truth it was from God, oh why did it so 
 
 quickly fly ? 
 Nay : for as the good God maketh suns to rise 
 
 and showers to fall. 
 Bringing harvest's genial blessings as a common 
 
 boon for all :
 
 34 THE INCARNATION. 
 
 So, sounds that strike upon the ear and sights 
 that fill the wond'ring ken, 
 
 Can join in combination sweet to witch the willing 
 souls of men. 
 
 There's a touch of subtile power even in insensate 
 things, 
 
 Which to sorrow-burdened breasts a present con- 
 solation brings. 
 
 For, in weariness of life beneath some deep heart- 
 hidden woe, 
 
 One hath courted soothing slumber when the 
 summer sun is low. 
 
 Head upon his hand he sleepeth in oblivion of 
 his pain, 
 
 Living for a little moment in the happy past 
 ao^ain. 
 
 In some scene of life's brief morning all unstained 
 by sorrow's tears, 
 
 Looming in the shadowy dream-land through the 
 mists of bygone years. 
 
 And he wakes up from his slumber as the dying 
 daylight falls 
 
 In a shower of golden glory o'er the relics on the 
 walls ; 
 
 And the odours through the window streaming 
 from the garden's bloom
 
 THE INCARNATIOA. 35 
 
 Blend mysteriously with those vision-shadows of 
 
 his childhood's home. 
 So by memory's magic music melancholy's ghost 
 
 is laid ; 
 As from Saul the evil spirit passed away when 
 
 David played. 
 But where was all the disenthrallment of his harp's 
 
 melodious spell, 
 When the gloom of Endor's cavern bickered with 
 
 the iires of hell ? 
 
 But thou thinkest : " If the soothincr charm I found 
 in beauty's quest, 
 
 Which, a sweet reaction bringing, gave my weary 
 spirit rest, 
 
 By the inevitable doom of all things earthly took 
 its flight, 
 
 Why should my religion cheat me like a vision of 
 the night ?" 
 
 Ah, but was it such religion as sustains the droop- 
 ing heart. 
 
 Not mid favoured spots of nature, not mid 
 miracles of art, 
 
 Not where an o'erflovving coffer drains the pam- 
 pered fancy dry.
 
 36 THE INCARNATION. 
 
 Not where health embrowns the cheek and flashes 
 
 from the lauo^liing eye ; 
 But where within the chokincj mine or mid 
 
 machinery's dcafcnini^' play 
 A dull routine of weary toil employs the hands 
 
 from day to day ; 
 Or where some sudden crushino- loss has bowed 
 
 the rich man's honoured head, 
 And straitened means can scarce supply the 
 
 humbler home w^ith daily bread ; 
 Or where the sick man hopes no more his former 
 
 vigour to regain ; 
 For, drop by drop, his life is slowly ebbing- out in 
 
 sleepless pain ? 
 Yes, there's the risk for those whose cup with 
 
 earthly good is brimming over, 
 A snare which in our hours of joy is not so easy 
 
 to discover, 
 That self-indulgence unrestrained will grow at 
 
 lenofth to such excess 
 As, with its fatal swamping might all heart-religion 
 
 to suppress. 
 E'en as the bird that soars and sings is made 
 
 dumb by the muttering thunder ; 
 Or as a death-grip from below can drag the 
 
 strono-est swimmer under.
 
 THE INCARNATION. ^-j 
 
 And such a feeble thino^ as that avails thee 
 
 nothing in the hour 
 When hell, back-beaten for a time, renews the 
 
 assault with deadlier power. 
 For they alone can know, who feel the writhings 
 
 of the worm within, 
 How strong and clinging is the grasp upon the 
 
 heart of cherished sin. 
 The band which fluttered loose at first, so slight 
 
 and silky-soft, at length, 
 Almost before we're well aware, has bound us 
 
 with a cable's strength. 
 Ah, of the words of weary woe which from sin- 
 burdened hearts arise, 
 As if in a despairing wail, up to the pure and 
 
 pitying skies, 
 Oh none are sadder sure than that which cryeth : 
 
 " Oh I would be good, 
 I would be wise, I w^ould be true, I would be 
 
 holy, if I could!" 
 When all the healthy joys and cares of life 
 
 sufficing man before. 
 Blighted and withered by his sin, can feed his 
 
 pining soul no more ; 
 And, powerless as a little child within a giant's 
 
 sinewy arm,
 
 38 THE INCARNATION. 
 
 All the whole soul is drawn within the focus of 
 
 some c1amnin<i charm. 
 Alas, poor soul ! no woe of earth can be compared 
 
 with woe like this: 
 Its gloom is pointed with a flame that cometh 
 
 from the black abyss. 
 So was it when, in dalliance fond with tempting 
 
 words, Eve's eye was made 
 To fix its glance upon the fair and fatal fruit 
 
 which God forbade. 
 The beauty and the bloom were gone from all 
 
 that charmed her wiser hours : 
 There was no splendour in the sky, no music in 
 
 the leafy bowers ; 
 And all the fruits so fair and good which God had 
 
 given so full and free. 
 Were soured and blackened by the blight which 
 
 breathed from that forbidden tree. 
 
 But there's tliat which, apprehended rightly, can 
 
 in truth supply 
 With heaven's own food the pining famine of thy 
 
 weary misery. 
 For God the Eternal Son, who dwelleth in the 
 
 high and holy place,
 
 THE INCARNATION. 39 
 
 Took into Himself a mortal nature to redeem 
 
 our race. 
 Mystery of love stupendous, deeper far than 
 
 thought can gauge ! 
 Learn its sorrow-soothing lesson ! Read it in the 
 
 sacred page ! 
 Not in the imperfect version some with good 
 
 intent have given, 
 Narrowing in their earthly blindness that which 
 
 came complete from heaven, 
 Enforcing duly the Atonement for our sins by 
 
 Jesus made ; 
 But leaving all the rest of Incarnation's doctrine 
 
 in the shade. 
 For, to gain the strength and comfort that great 
 
 doctrine can supply, 
 We must see it in the light of its divine 
 
 philosophy. 
 Divine : for it pervades the truth that was to 
 
 holy seers revealed, 
 And stands for ever in the scroll by God's own 
 
 Spirit signed and sealed. 
 And all the teachers of the word who in their 
 
 prudent steps have trod, 
 Have used it as a mighty means to win the souls 
 
 of men to God.
 
 40 THE INCARNATION. 
 
 Do we hold that evolution is the great creative 
 
 law ? 
 Then, in reverent contemplation, we may this 
 
 conclusion draw : 
 Step by step from form minutest a life-giving 
 
 power expands 
 'Till man, the flower of the creation, in his Maker's 
 
 imao^e stands. 
 But, God's holy law transgressing, he hath fallen 
 
 from his height, 
 In his body soul and spirit smitten with a 
 
 deadly blight ; 
 And the whole creation groaneth, waiting for a 
 
 glad new birth 
 From the clinging curse transmitted by the fallen 
 
 lord of earth. 
 Thus there needed a remaking : so shall the 
 
 corroded chain 
 Link by link in pristine beauty glad the eyes of 
 
 God again ; 
 And the sin-defaced creation be in liorhi and love 
 
 restored 
 By the renovating virtue flowing from the Incar- 
 nate Lord. 
 Thus that wondrous Incarnation crowneth 
 
 evolution's plan ;
 
 THE INCARNATION. ^\ 
 
 And in Jesus Son of Mary we behold the perfect 
 
 Man. 
 And we see a law of contact in the realm of heart 
 
 and mind, 
 By which the feeble can grow strong, the foolish 
 
 wise, the coarse refined. 
 So has one of nature's princes in the olden times 
 
 gone by, 
 Dowered with an angel's heart and dowered with 
 
 a prophet's eye. 
 Sought and found prevailing power to uplift a 
 
 prostrate race ; 
 And he comes down from the mountain with God's 
 
 light upon his face ; 
 And in prudent legislation gives them rules they 
 
 can obey ; 
 And by words of suasive wisdom wakes the 
 
 soul within the clay. 
 And in every age are prophets faithful to their 
 
 holy trust. 
 Whose burning words have power to raise our 
 
 grovelling spirits from the dust. 
 Thus in wondrous condescension taking human 
 
 flesh and soul, 
 God the Son, the Pure and Holy, came in 
 
 contact with the f oul :
 
 42 THE INCARNATION. 
 
 That man the; child of sin and sorrow, maimed in 
 
 heart and maimed in limb, 
 Might be raised and cleansed and healed in mystic 
 
 union with Him. 
 He can free thee from the bitter ancruish of thine 
 
 evil hour, 
 And lift a holy hand to touch thy leprous soul 
 
 with healing power. 
 Tempted : He can succour those whose souls are 
 
 by temptation torn ; 
 Once Himself a child of sorrow, He can feel for 
 
 those who mourn. 
 
 As a member of the Body of the God-Man, claim 
 
 thy place 
 In the glad regeneration of the covenant of 
 
 grace. 
 
 This hath been the double burden weiirhino- on 
 
 thy soul within, 
 A sickening sense of ill-desert, the power of thy 
 
 besetting sin. 
 But the perfect absolution that doth from His 
 
 passion flow 
 Can purge thee from thy guilt and make thee 
 
 whiter than the driven snow ;
 
 THE INCARNATION. 43 
 
 And the miserable thralldom that hath held thine 
 
 heart so long 
 Can in Him be crushed and broken, who is 
 
 strontjer than the strong^. 
 
 And thoug-h temptation, still recurring, should thy 
 
 feeble heart assail. 
 Cling to Him in firm persistence ; and In Him thou 
 
 shalt prevail. 
 Dreary still may be the valley where thy fainting 
 
 footsteps tread ; 
 And the burning blast of noon may beat upon 
 
 thine aching head ; 
 And, from out the straight path lying, shady 
 
 groves may woo thee still 
 Of their God-forbidden solace to enjoy thy 
 
 wonted fill. 
 Stay not ! Turn not ! Look not ! Think not ! 
 
 firmly fix thy faltering eye 
 Where, like clouds, in the dim distance yonder 
 
 spreading uplands lie ! 
 Bravely bear thy spirit's anguish, treading o'er 
 
 that treacherous ground ; 
 Like the savage who has pierced his quivering 
 
 flesh with ghastly wound,
 
 44 THE INCARNATION. 
 
 And hanos in torturing- impalement till his 
 
 straining fibres part, 
 Drinking fortitude's stern lesson into his 
 
 barbarian heart — • 
 
 Thou hast crained the height at last where all 
 
 God's faithful ones have stood ; 
 And the bracing breeze of heaven is pouring 
 
 health into thy blood ; 
 And farther onward, through the mists that for 
 
 awhile must round it cling, 
 Thine eye can catch a distant glinimer of the city 
 
 of the Kino-.
 
 45 
 
 THEN AND NOW. 
 
 One summer's morn — 'twas in my boyhood's 
 prime — 
 I lay reclined within a woodland dell, 
 Listening in spirit to the silent chime 
 
 That Zephyr ringeth on the heather-bell. 
 Within me, like a deep sea's rippling swell 
 
 Dyed in the cloudless heaven's empurpling 
 blue, 
 The wavelets of my young thoughts rose and 
 fell— 
 Thoughts that were then so beautiful and true — 
 Tinged by that Light from heaven which maketh 
 all things new. 
 
 And fifty changeful years have come and gone ; 
 
 And, mid the flowering heather once again, 
 I listen to the bell, with solemn tone 
 
 That tolls its measured knell from yonder fane, 
 Telling how youth's full-orbed bliss must wane, 
 
 And all its splendour merge in formless gloom, 
 Melting in tears like frostwork from the pane, 
 
 Until there seems 'neath fate's remorseless doom
 
 46 THEN AND NOW. 
 
 No balm save kindly death, no refuge but the 
 tomb. 
 
 In winter's frost we pine for flowery spring: 
 
 It comes, but bringeth not the wished-for joy; 
 And time o'er every hard-won gain doth lling 
 
 The broodino;' shadow of sonie heart's annov ; 
 The bright hopes cheat the man, whicli cheered 
 the boy ; 
 
 And the heart droops neath sin's sirocco blast ; 
 The fine gold changeth into base alloy ; 
 
 And dead eyes with heart-crushing kindness cast 
 A sad, reproachful gaze out of the tideless past. 
 
 But hark, a still voice speaks : " O grovelling soul, 
 
 Stint not thy view to time's o'ershadowing 
 night ! 
 Through yon blue depths where m}riad systems 
 roll 
 
 If thou could'st speed thee with an arrow's flight 
 The infinite would mock thy feeble might. 
 
 Thy life is there, thy home, tliy native clime ; 
 Thought cannot gauge the rapture of the sight." 
 
 I listened — and the darkness chano^ed to liMit ; 
 And the heath-bell once more rancr out its matin 
 
 O 
 
 chime.
 
 47 
 
 A VANISHED FACE. 
 
 In the aurora of our life's brief morn, 
 
 Ere labour's stern exactions claim our hands, 
 
 When the young- heart by care is all unworn, 
 Blessino- and blessed some fjentle woman 
 Stands, 
 
 In human form acting an angel's part, 
 
 Minoflincr her soul in childhood's smiles and 
 tears, 
 The magic of whose manner wins the heart, 
 And keeps her memory green through all the 
 years. 
 
 Whether she's dead or only old and gray 
 
 We know not : for we see her now no more ; 
 
 And yet on us her sweet face shines alway 
 In all the freshness of the days of yore. 
 
 Such things pass from us : the relentless law 
 Which severs hearts its course unswerving 
 runs : 
 
 We see not now the sights which once we saw ; 
 And we change ever with the changing suns.
 
 48 A VANISHED FACE. 
 
 We miss the fulness of the love which blessed 
 Our earlier years ; and we are fondly fain 
 
 To hnd where it abides : it mocks our quest ; 
 And the search ends in disappointment's pain. 
 
 Whether it be on land or over seas 
 
 The seeking and acquist are far asunder ; 
 
 As echo only answered Hercules 
 
 When pearl-wreathed arms drew shrinking 
 Hylas under.
 
 49 
 
 THE VOICE OF THE CREATION. 
 
 I groan in travail-throes of complex pain 
 
 From Heaven to Earth, from Earth to Sheol 
 below 
 'Till one strong word shall break obstruction's 
 chain 
 And ease my pangs and let the burden go. 
 
 Wherever man acts his allotted part 
 
 Evil with good and foul with fair is crossed ; 
 
 And in the secret shrine of every heart 
 
 Lingers a saddening sense of something lost. 
 
 Earth's homes are full of weary souls that pine : 
 Sweet hopes have fled and left them all forlorn : 
 
 Hopes bright and brief as when the orient brine 
 Laughs back the golden kisses of the morn. 
 
 Look where through mad ambition's selfish quest 
 
 Man meets his brother man in deadly strife ! 
 Look where drought closes the Great Mother's 
 breast, 
 And plague and murrain blast the breath of 
 life!
 
 50 THE VOICE OF THE CREATION. 
 
 Nor is the burden only borne below : 
 
 It stirs heaven's bliss with ripplings vague and 
 dim : 
 A shadow falleth on the ooklcn olow, 
 
 A sadness on the songs of Seraphim. 
 
 As the blood curdles with a sudden chill 
 
 Caught from some troubled spirit wandering by, 
 
 In some gay group when pipe and tabor thrill 
 Their souls with music's winsome witchery^ 
 
 Or as a child amid her birthday glee 
 
 Feels her young heart with heaviness oppress'd 
 To find the little birds she comes to see 
 
 Gasping and dying in their frozen nest; 
 
 So those good spirits sigh in pity wide 
 
 As they look downward from their home above: 
 
 E'en as when He looked up to heaven and 
 sighed, 
 The Great God-Man amid His works of love. 
 
 But as when life stirring the void beneath 
 
 In dcedal beauty from night's troubled womb, 
 
 Burst into form beneath the Ouickeninof Breath : 
 So will it be when my birth-hour is come.
 
 THE VOICE OF THE CREATION. 51 
 
 Then when the awful recreative nod 
 
 Shaketh time's chaos through its depth and 
 height 
 The joy song of the morning-stars of God 
 
 Shall thunder through the corridors of light.
 
 52 
 
 THE VOICE OF THE ANGEL. 
 
 As one who, standing on a grassy mound, 
 
 Drinks in the woodland melodies of morn : 
 
 So stand I on this whirlinc;- orlobe of earth, 
 
 And listen, as the myriad-circling spheres 
 
 Roll their sweet thunder throucrh the fields of 
 
 space. 
 Yet, in a power by God to us transferred, 
 We can conform to human thoughts and acts. 
 As once with Abraham talked the Mystic Three, 
 And rested on their way, and ate man's food. 
 And now I go to one whose wavering youth 
 Hath yielded to temptation, and the snake 
 Hath wound his first coil round his willing heart. 
 His body sleeps ; but he himself can hear : 
 And I w^ill speak to him in measured rhyme ; 
 For that suits well the dreaming ear of sleep. 
 True it will fly when waking life succeeds. 
 As the stars fly when night gives place to day. 
 But yet some good impression may remain 
 To woo his erring spirit back to God. 
 
 Go thou in memory's deathless power back to thy 
 childhood's time
 
 THE VOICE OF THE ANGEL. 53 
 
 When the soul feels but cannot know the mystery 
 
 of its prime ; 
 When to the young unfolding sense the meanest 
 
 object brings 
 A joy unfound in gems of price on diadems of 
 
 kings. 
 Then 'twas an ever-new delight to wander and 
 
 explore 
 The wild flowers in the summer woods, the shells 
 
 upon the shore ; 
 And all fair thino;s that earth could show wore to 
 
 thy wondering eye 
 The morning glow that never fades from sweet 
 
 eternity. 
 I see thee in thy father's fields : the sun is on his 
 
 way, 
 A nd thou art tumbling with thy mates among the 
 
 new-mown hay ; 
 A.nd He the Great I Am who sees all things in 
 
 heaven and earth 
 Looks with an eye of tender love upon thy guile- 
 less mirth ; 
 And 'neath His Spirit's voiceless rule thy being's 
 
 pulses move, 
 As ocean tides beneath the sway of the gentle 
 
 moon above.
 
 54 THE VOICE OF THE ANGEL. 
 
 Oh, if all precious things were thine which glad 
 
 the eyes of men, 
 Would St thou not gladly give them all to be as 
 
 thou wert then ? 
 But call upon thy God with tears and break the 
 
 evil spell 
 That chokes the fountain of thy prayers : and all 
 
 shall yet be well. 
 And as the suppliant bent to Christ under his 
 
 legal ban, 
 And rose from leprous misery a healed and happy 
 
 man : 
 So shalt thou 'scape the deadly doom of sin's 
 
 slow-wastino;' blis^ht, 
 And stand thine own true self once more among 
 
 the sons of liofht. 
 Yet sigh not for the bliss which passed with 
 
 childhood's years away : 
 The dew of morninof falls but once throucrh the 
 
 long summer day. 
 But thou in victory over sin shalt taste a joy 
 
 sublime 
 That fades not under gathering years as fade the 
 
 joys of time : 
 A joy he cannot hope to know who wastes his 
 
 manhood's power.
 
 THE VOICE OF THE ANGEL. 55 
 
 Heedless of aught beyond the poor excitement of 
 
 the hour. 
 Thine be the nobler life of one who, strong in 
 
 heart and limb, 
 Can endure hardness for the Lord who bore the 
 
 cross for him ; 
 Who, when he's called upon to tread where 
 
 martyred saints have trod. 
 Up the steep hill of willing pain to work some 
 
 work for God 
 In surly winter's beating storm or summer's faint- 
 ing heat, 
 Will still press on although the flint blush neath 
 
 his straining feet. 
 And as the wandering bird that seeks to gain her 
 
 distant nest 
 When the fell spirits of the storm howl in their 
 
 wild unrest, 
 Over the ocean's pathless wastes plyeth her 
 
 weary wing, 
 Crush thou sloth's puling sickliness by labour's 
 
 healthy swing ! 
 Thus thou, from sin's enslaving wiles enfranchised 
 
 and remanned, 
 Shalt know the sweetness of God's love, the 
 
 strength of His right hand.
 
 56 THE VOICE OF THE ANGEL. 
 
 Ill times of danger and of dread, as well as when 
 
 thy way 
 Leads through the sheltered vales of peace His 
 
 arm shall be thy stay. 
 When Nature sleeps in silvery sheen of moonlight 
 
 calm, and when 
 Leaps the blue levin from the cloud to blast the 
 
 lives of men, 
 The infant rests in fearless trust upon the 
 
 mother's breast : 
 So thou on His unchano^ino^ love in weal or woe 
 
 shalt rest^ 
 And so from stage to stage of life thine even 
 
 course shalt run, 
 To God, thy neighbour, and thyself, tliy duty 
 
 bravely done : 
 'Till lapse of years shall bring the time when 
 
 thou shalt soar away 
 Up to the peaceful vestibule of heaven's eternal day. 
 For not as the woe-wasted man, when sleep had 
 
 dried his tears, 
 Wakes back to cold reality from dreams of 
 
 happier years, 
 Thou from the troublous dream of life, with 
 
 rapture-beaming eye, 
 Shalt wake to the unfading bliss of great eternity.
 
 57 
 
 JUDITH. 
 
 Jael, thy left hand was firm, and heavy the 
 
 hammer fell 
 That sped our proud foe at the heels of his host 
 
 to the mirk of the nethermost hell. 
 When Deborah had gone with the warriors of 
 
 God, and the might of her burning 
 
 words 
 Was as wine to the hearts of dispirited men, and 
 
 a whetstone to their swords. 
 Twin stars ye stand in our history's sky in 
 
 quenchless light to show 
 What work for the Lord in troublous times a 
 
 woman's weak arm can do. 
 And last niofht in a dream methouMit I was one 
 
 of the sons of God who made 
 Yon cloud-courts ring when His mighty hand the 
 
 earth's foundations laid. 
 I stood on this sea-girt world of ours, and lifted 
 
 my wondering eye, 
 As night's glittering lamps on creation's fourth 
 
 day flashed out from the shadowy sky : 
 Not all at once in a speck of time ; but as through 
 
 the sweet summer hours
 
 58 JUDITH. 
 
 Star after star on some emerald mead come out 
 
 bright constellations of flowers. 
 And as on two stars standing lengthways I gazed 
 
 ■ — 'twas just ere the vision took flight — 
 A third star was added, and made with the twain 
 
 a glorious trigon of light. 
 And I woke as the watch-crowing cock sang the 
 
 dawn that o-leamed in the dim eastern 
 
 sky ; 
 And I knew that the third of those dream-sighted 
 
 stars had read me my destiny. 
 Great God of my fathers, ensinew my arm for the 
 
 deed 
 That shall lift up the heads of Thy sons in this 
 
 hour of their need. 
 The heathen oppressor is waiting to ravin and slay, 
 As the eagle that poises his wings ere he swoop 
 
 on his prey. 
 Thou hast dowered Thine handmaid with beauty: 
 
 infuse it with serpentine wile 
 That shall kill with the honey-sweet charm of a 
 
 treacherous smile. 
 The hand of a woman shall shatter the horn of 
 
 his trust ; 
 And the sword of his slayings shall spill his red 
 life in the dust.
 
 JUDITH. 59 
 
 But to Thee, Lord of hosts, all the honour and 
 
 glory be given 
 From Thy kingdom on earth to Thy throne in 
 
 the heavens' his^h heaven ! 
 Upheld by Thine arm, I go forth : by Thy grace 
 
 I aspire 
 To shine in our history's sky the third in that 
 
 triplet of fire.
 
 6o 
 
 LAUGHTER. 
 
 Amid sin's harsh discordancies sweet boons of 
 
 sound are given, 
 Which show that this woe-weary world still links 
 
 itself with heaven. 
 And such is childhood's ringing laugh, joyous and 
 
 dewy-sweet 
 As songs of birds at that still hour " when night 
 
 and morning meet." 
 'Tis the music of the young heart's chords tuned 
 
 by the quick hand of glee, 
 Without one jarring note to mar its perfect 
 
 harmony. 
 
 It falls upon the tired ear as if a seraph-song 
 Warbled in soothing interlude mid words of 
 
 cruel wrong. 
 And as the traveller, parched and faint 'ncath 
 
 summer's burning ray, 
 Turns to the cool refreshing spring that gushes 
 
 by the way. 
 The heart that's weary of the world, by hollow 
 
 forms beguiled. 
 Drinks in a sweet refreshment from the laughter 
 
 of a child.
 
 LAUGHTER. 6i 
 
 But ah, the winged joys of youth, how soon they 
 
 fly away. 
 Like the fair fragile flowers ot spring that bloom 
 
 but for a day! 
 How many a lite so blithesome once is as a 
 
 shattered lute 
 With all its sweet chords rent in twain and all its 
 
 music mute \ 
 And, 'neath the weary bitterness of sorrow's heavy 
 
 chain, 
 The stricken heart may sadly smile, but never 
 
 lauq;h arain. 
 
 And yet the heart, though sorrow-charred, that 
 
 has learned its God to know, 
 Shall phoenix-like uplift itself from the ashes of 
 
 its woe, 
 Where all the hell-born brood of sin and death 
 
 shall only be 
 The echoes of a troubled dream that hath fled 
 
 the memory : 
 When pain and care and all sad things shall far 
 
 away be hurled, 
 And great eternity shall solve the riddle of the 
 
 world.
 
 62 
 
 WEARINESS. 
 
 Let mc sleep, let me sleep! 
 
 My merry mates are gone ; 
 Dark shadows o'er the meadows creep, 
 
 And I am all alone : 
 
 Let me sleep ! 
 
 Let me sleep, let me sleep ! 
 
 The wished-for height is won ; 
 But oh, the hill-side was so steep 
 
 Under the burning sun : 
 
 Let me sleep ! 
 
 Let me sleep, let me sleep ! 
 
 I cannot stem the flood ; 
 My weary heart can only weep 
 
 Its woe in tears of blood : 
 
 Let me sleep ! 
 
 Let me sleep, let me sleep, 
 
 Where spring's sweet daisies grow 
 Over the slumber still and deep 
 
 Of those who lie below ! 
 
 Let me sleep !
 
 63 
 
 FROM BIRTH TO LIFE. 
 
 Outbreathed from depths of boundless power 
 
 Which angels long to scan, 
 With flesh and blood's death-destined dower 
 
 Comes forth the soul of man. 
 It seems to seek its home afar 
 
 As through its body's eye 
 It looks up at the little star 
 
 That twinkles in the sky. 
 
 With careless step forth fares the boy 
 
 When morn peeps o'er the hill, 
 And all things bring their draught of joy 
 
 His spirit's cup to fill. 
 And bright hopes stir within his breast 
 
 Of other thinors in store 
 That shall be open to his quest 
 
 When boyhood's days are o'er. 
 
 But man a farther stage must reach 
 
 Of hard laborious days 
 From where pale genius utters speech 
 
 That sets the world agaze
 
 64 FROM BIRTH TO LIFE. 
 
 To where beneath the stress of noon 
 
 The rustic sons of toil 
 Win from tlie earth her autumn boon 
 
 Of corn and wine and oil. 
 
 The old man's head is bent with years ; 
 
 Slow comes his panting breath ; 
 With faint and faltering steps he nears 
 
 The stony gate of death. 
 And enters he the grave's cold night, 
 
 Worn with his journey's length ; 
 But from the crag a youthful sprite 
 
 Upsprings in deathless strength.* 
 
 THE END. 
 
 * The last of the four stanzas of this poem was 
 suggested by William Blake's well-known illustration, 
 " Death's Door." 
 
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