SUNDAY^^ AFTERNOON I VERSES WROBERTSON NICOLL ^rerkeley"\ LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA J SUNDAY AFTERNOON VERSES 4- ■* !• WORKS BY DR. W. ROBERTSON NICOLL. Eighth Thousand. Cloth, is. 6d. THE SEVEN WORDS FROM THE CROSS. Third Edition. Crown &vo. Cloth. 6s. PROFESSOR W. G. ELMSLIE, D.D.: Memoir and Sermons. Third Edition. Crown 8vo. Cloth, is. 6d. THE LAMB OF GOD: Expositions in the Writings of St. John. Fourth Edition. Post Svo. 3s. 6d. THE KEY OF THE GRAVE: A Book for the Bereaved. 8vo. 12s. JAMES MACDONELL OF 'THE TIMES': A Story of Self-Help. With Etched Portrait by H. Manesse. Third Edition. Crown Svo. Cloth. $s. Large Paper Edition. i$s. net. SONGS OF REST. Presentation Edition. Containing First and Second Series Enlarged and Revised. First and Second Series, is. 6d. each. By DR. NICOLL and THOS. J. WISE. Vols. I. and II. Small \to. 20s. each, net. LITERARY ANECDOTES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. With Portraits. London : HODDER AND STOUGHTON ► 4- SUNDAY AFTERNOON VERSES COLLECTED FROM THE 'BRITISH WEEKLY ' BY W. ROBERTSON NICOLL LONDON HODDER AND STOUGHTON 27 PATERNOSTER ROW 1897 1 LOAN STACK l Edinburgh : T. and A. Constable, Printers to Her Majesty ► «■ /iff 7 TO M. W. W. n- 506 ■►« NOTE The Verses in this little book are reprinted from the British Weekly at the request of many readers. They are partly original and partly selected from fugitive sources, mainly American. The editor is unable, save in a very few cases, to give the names of the writers, and he will esteem it a favour to receive information on that point to be used in another edition. Hampstead, October 1897. >■«" CONTENTS PAGE 1. When the Grinding shall cease I 2. Show Him your Hands .... 3 3. If I could call you back .... 7 4. A Bridge of Song 8 5. * He shall do well ' 10 6. Crying on God 12 7. Things are not what they seem . . 13 8. Be comforted . . . . . .13 9. Clinging 14 10. The Voice of Death 15 11. The Dream of Life 17 12. The Promise of God 17 13. Daily Frets 18 14. At the Mill ....... 19 15. Time in Eternity 20 16. A Happy Day . . . . . .21 17. An Evening Prayer . . . . .21 18. The Work all done 22 Simtiap afternoon Merges 19. Thoughts at Twilight . 20. At Evenfall . 21. Living Love 22. Content 23- A Short Creed . 24. The Last Request 25. Our own for ever 26. A Dialogue . 27. The Death of Memory 28. The Harvest of the Fears 29. Come away . 30. The Rose of the Spirit. 3i- Be brave 32. The Sleeping Child . 33- The Service of God . 34- If I might kneel . 35- A Vision 36. The Little Boy . 37- The River and the Sea 38. Sweet Ghosts 39- Couldst Thou love Me ? 40. Crucified again . 41. Going back . 42. Meeting with Christ . PAGE 24 25 26 29 30 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 38 39 40 4i 42 43 45 46 47 49 49 50 ► «• ■►< Contents 43. For Autumn 44. The Leaves and the Ages 45. Despair 46. Trust . 47. The Carpenter's Son 48. Sorrow at Easter . 49. Spared 50. The Master's Chisel 51. Restoration. 52. Waiting for God . 53. Show me Thy Way 54. A Sinking Heart . 55. The Coming of the Dawn 56. The Rainfall follows the Plow 57. The Dying Thief 58. The Lord at the Loom 59. Dead and Dying . 60. In the Days of His Flesh 61. At School with Christ . 62. The Master's Need 63. A Flash 64. Pour out Thy Love 65. The Potter and the Clay 66. Waiting in Peace 51 52 S3 53 54 55 59 59 60 63 64 66 67 67 68 70 7i 7i 73 73 76 77 78 80 *• ► + ^untiap afternoon Wlzxzzz 67. God all in all 68. The Love Treaty 69. C. G. R. . 70. The Fever healed 71. At her Grave 72. The One Home . 73. Love Abiding 74. Might have been . 75. 'Friend' . 76. Soft Silence 77. With the Dead . 78. The Silence breaking 79. Jerusalem the Golden 80. Nearer 81. To my Heart 82. Grief Fading 83. Lord, remember Me 84. I will not doubt . 85. For a Child's Sake 86. Beyond 87. The Master of the Sheepfold 88. Into the East 89. At Peace . 90. The Things that last PAGE 8l 8l 82 84 84 85 86 86 87 87 88 89 90 9i 92 93 93 93 95 96 97 98 99 100 foments PAGE 91. Mary at the Grave 101 92. Voices - 102 93. From Day to Day 103 94. Coming Home 104 95. The Day's Work 105 96. All my Part 106 97. Not alone 108 98. An Old Prayer 109 99. Forgive .110 100. The Forgotten Sermon . . . . j 1 1 101. True Love 112 102. Gratitude 113 103. A Prayer in reading the Scripture . . 113 104. The Rainbow 114 105. Unexacting 114 106. Dame Sorrow 114 107. The 'IAra' 115 108. If ye love Me 116 109. Unaware 118 1 10. The Child's Smile 119 in. Two Friends 119 112. The Bravest of the Brave . . . .120 113. Chosen 121 114. Life and Rest 122 -►< ► «- §unT)a£ Afternoon ©erges 115. The Measureless Love 116. Did we meet 117. The One Truth . 118. The Light that failed 119. Glory to the Lord of Glory 120. This wretched Inn 121. Magdalen at the Gate 122. Christ at Nazareth 123. Love's very House 124. Christ in the Wintry Street 125. A Song of Trust 126. Patience .... 127. The Victory 128. The Holy Gate . 129. After .... 130. The Nazarene . 131. The Christ Life. 132. Love sees .... 133. How did you rest last Night? 134. Apprehended of Christ 135. Catching the Sunlight 136. The Better Day 137. The Well is Deep 138. Never again PAGE 123 124 125 126 126 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 136 137 137 138 138 140 140 141 142 142 Contents PAGE 139. The Plow . . ■ 143 140. The Other Side 144 141. Christmas Eve. — Scandinavian Legend . 144 142. The Birth of Jesus Christ .... 145 143. Good-bye 147 144. Where to find God 148 145. Life's Lessons learned .... 149 146. The Service of Waiting .... 150 147. A Little Parable 151 148. Another Gathering there . . . .152 149. A Chance 153 150. The Christ Child 154 151. The Speech of Love 155 152. Refreshment 156 Sunt>a$ afternoon IPeroes 1. When the Grinding shall cease. * Two women shall be grinding at the mill ; the one shall be taken and the other left.' All day, and all day, as I sit at my measure- less turning, They come and they go — The little ones down on the rocks — and the sunlight is burning On vineyards below ; All day, and all day, as I sit at my stone and am ceaselessly grinding, The almond boughs blow. When she was here — O, my firstborn ! — here grinding and singing, My hand against hers, *- Suntjap afternoon tftttstf* i What did I reck of the wind where the aloe is swinging And the cypress vine stirs ? What of a bird to its little ones hastening, flying and crying, Through the dark of the firs ? When she was by me, my beautiful, here by me grinding, I saw not the glow Of the grape ; for the bloom of her face that the sunlight was finding, And the pomegranate blow Of her mouth, and the joy of her eyes, and her voice, like a dove to me singing, Made a garden agrow ! Was it I? Was it I for whom Death came seeking and calling When he found her so fair ? At the wheel, at the wheel, from dawn till the dew shall be falling I will wait for him there. Death (I shall cry), I am old, but yon shadow of plums that are purpling Was the hue of her hair ! 32H$en tf?e Printline tfysll cease t Death ! (I shall cry) in the sound of the mill ever turning Till dark brings release, Till the sun on the vineyards below me to crimson is burning, There is measure of peace, For all day, and all day — with the wheel — are her eyes to me turning ! But, Death ! (I shall call) take me hence ere the daylight its shadow is spurning ! Hence, ere the night-time can wrap me around with my tears and my yearning — When the grinding shall cease ! 2. Show Him your Hands. In the one poor room that was all their home, A mother lay on the bed, Her seven young children around her ; And, calling the eldest, she said : ' I 'm going to leave you, Mary ; You 're nearly fourteen, you know ; And now you must be a good girl, dear, And make me easy to go. * ,T t $untrag Afternoon ©erses You can't depend much on father ; But just be patient, my child, And keep the children out of his way, Whenever he comes home wild. And keep the home as well as you can ; And, little daughter, think He didn't use to be so ; Remember, it 's all the drink.' The weeping daughter promised Always to do her best ; And, closing her eyes on a weary life, The mother entered her rest. And Mary kept her promise, As faithfully as she might ; She cooked and washed and mended, And kept things tidy and bright. And the little chubby fingers lost Their childish softness and grace, And roughened and chapped and calloused j And the rosy, childish face 4 ► < Sfjoto $im pour $antJ0 Grew thin, and haggard, and anxious, Careworn, tired, and old, As on those slender shoulders The burdens of life were rolled. So, when the heated season Burned pitiless overhead, And up from the filth of the noisome street The fatal fever spread, The work and want and drunken blows Had weakened the tender frame, And into the squalid room once more The restful shadow came. And Mary sent for the playmate Who lived just over the way, And said, ' The charity doctor Has been here, Katie, to-day. He says I '11 never be better, The fever has been so bad ; And if it wasn't for one thing, I 'm sure I 'd just be glad. $unliag Afternoon aiersea It isn't about the children ; I 've kept my promise good, And mother will know I stayed with them As long as ever I could. But you know how it 's been here, Katie — I Ve had so much to do, I couldn't mind the children And go to the preaching too. And I Ve been so tired-like at night, I couldn't think to pray ; And now, when I see the Lord Jesus, What ever am I to say?' And Katie, the little comforter, Her help to the problem brought j And into the heart made wise by love, The Spirit sent this thought : ' I wouldn't say a word, dear, For sure He understands j I wouldn't say ever a word at all, But, Mary, just show Him your hands/ 7 If 1 coufu call 20U bacfc 3. If I could call you back. If I could call you back for one brief hour, It is at evensong that hour should be, When bells are chiming from an old grey tower Across the tranquil sea. Just when the fields are sweet and cool with dew, Just when the last gold lingers in the west, Would I recall you to the world you knew Before you went to rest. And where the starry jasmine hides the wall We two would stand together once again. I know your patience — I would tell you all My tale of love and pain. And you would listen, with your tender smile, Tracing the lines upon my tear-worn face, And finding, even for a little while, Our earth a weary place. Only one little hour. And then once more The bitter word, farewell, beset with fears And all my pathway darkened, as before, With shades of lonely years. ii $tmtra2 afternoon &tt8ts Far better, dear, that you, unfelt, unseen, Should hover near me in the quiet air, And draw my spirit through this mortal screen Your higher life to share. I would not call you back, and yet — ah me ! — Faith is so weak and human love so strong That sweet it seems to think of what might be This hour at evensong. 4. A Bridge of Song. Filled with weariness and pain, Scarce strong enough to pray, In this twilight hour I sit, Sit and sing my doubt away. O'er my broken purposes, Ere the coming shadows roll, Let me build a bridge of song, 'Jesus, Lover of my soul.' • Let me to Thy bosom fly.' How the words my thoughts repeat ; To Thy bosom, Lord, I come, Though unfit to kiss Thy feet. * a i3ritice of Song Once I gathered sheaves for Thee, Dreaming I could hold them fast ; Now I can but idly sing, 1 receive my soul at last.' I am weary of my fears ; Like a child, when night comes on, In the shadow, Lord, I sing, 1 Leave, ah leave me not alone.' Through the tears I still must shed, Through the evil yet to be, Though I falter while I sing, ' Still support and comfort me.' 1 All my trust on Thee is stayed ' ; Does the rhythm of the song, Softly falling on my heart, Make its pulses firm and strong ? Or is this Thy perfect peace, Now descending while I sing ? That my soul may sleep to-night ' 'Neath the shadow of Thy wing ?' 1 Thou of life the Fountain art '; If I slumber on Thy breast, If I sing myself to sleep, Sleep and death alike are rest. €)untiap afternoon inc0 are not to£at tf>ep 0eem 7. Things are not what they seem. There came a cloud ; it fell in shining showers. Lo ! from the earth sprang troops of radiant flowers. Grief o'er a joyous heart its shadow threw. Lo ! in the darkness love's sweet graces grew. The golden sun dropped sudden out of sight. Lo ! silver stars made glorious the night. Death came. The soul, affrighted at its guise, Was led protesting into Paradise. 8. Be comforted. Be comforted, be comforted, Ye tempest-tossed and worn, Who wait amid the shadows For hope's celestial morn ! The valley hath its burden, Its vision, and its song, And strains of joy are wafted From heaven's immortal throng. 13 ■* SunUap afternoon GXttM& He makes my windows agates, That I may dimly see The glories that await me, The joys prepared for me. Oh, were the full effulgence To break upon my sight, My spirit were too eager To take its upward flight ! Through mists of tears the bulwarks Of Zion's City rise ; I greet its pearly portals, Its jasper meets mine eyes ; A mystic glory lightens it, It shines upon my road, And through my agate windows My heart exults in God ! 9. Clinging. She chides him not when he is down, But gives new boldness by her gown ; Till twinkling eye and merry lip, Say boldly — Now I cannot slip ! 14 Clinginc So, when I fall, I closer cling To one all-healing robe and wing ; For I believe the Son of man Loves more than any mother can. The way is rough, the light is dim, Yet boldly I will follow Him j And after every fall will rise More humble, teachable, and wise. 10. The Voice of Death. 1 Come,' said a voice to a poet, as he sought an elusive rhyme, One night when the world was sleeping, in the heart of sweet May-time : ' Oh, how can I come ? ' he answered, ' let me alone, I pray, For the verse which I now am weaving the hearts of men will sway.' 'Come,' said the voice to a statesman, as he stood in the senate-hall, And men moved on at his bidding like troops at a bugle-call : l 5 ftuntiag afternoon ©ewe* 1 How can I come ? ' he answered ; ' my sun at its zenith stands — Before it sets for ever my name shall be known in all lands.' 1 Come,' said the voice to a mother with her children at her knee, Dreaming how safe and happy their life by her side should be : 1 Oh, I cannot come,' she answered, ' I pray you let me stay — For how can I leave my darlings to wander far away ? ' No other word was spoken, but the poet left his pen, The statesman's name was heard no more upon the lips of men, And the children found no mother, though they called with sobbing breath, For the voice which spoke all must obey — it was the voice of Death ! 16 %\>z Dream of Hife ii. The Dream of Life. Out of the sleep of earth, with visions rife I woke in death's clear morning, full of life : And said to God, whose smile made all things bright, 1 That was an awful dream I had last night.' 12. The Promise of God. Through storm and sun the age draws on When heaven and earth shall meet, For the Lord has said that glorious He will make the place of His feet. And the grass may die on the summer hills The flower fade by the river, But our God is the same through endless years, And His word shall stand for ever. 1 What of the night, O watchman Set to mark the dawn of day ? ' ' The wind blows fair from the morning star, And the shadows flee away. Dark are the vales, but the mountains glow As the light its splendour flings, And the Sun of Righteousness comes up With healing in His wings/ 17 ' I - ftuntoag afternoon Glmsen Shine on, shine on, O blessed Sun, Through all the round of heaven, Till the darkest vale and the farthest isle Full to Thy light are given. Till the desert and the wilderness As Sharon's plain shall be, And the love of the Lord shall fill the earth As the waters fill the sea. 13. Daily Frets. The heart which boldly faces death Upon the battle-field, and dares Cannon and bayonet, faints beneath The needle-points of frets and cares. The stoutest spirits they dismay — The tiny stings of every day. And even saints of holy fame, Whose souls by faith have overcome, Who wore amid the cruel flame - The molten crown of martyrdom, Bore not without complaint alway The petty pains of every day. Ah ! more than martyr's aureole, And more than hero's heart of fire, •*b Dailp jfm* We need the humble strength of soul Which daily toils and ills require. Sweet Patience, grant us, if you may, An added grace for every day. 14. At the Mill He said, when, on that solemn day of days, With sudden flame the darkened skies were cleft, Two should be busy at their household ways, And one be taken and the other left. Always with fear and bated breath I thought Of those two women grinding at the stone, One to the King's bright presence swiftly caught, And one left trembling in the murk alone. But now I know that judgment trumps may sound, And some be called, and some be left alone, And the dull world keep on its daily round, Nor ever guess the King has claimed His own. ■* 19 Suntiap afternoon WLtws For now I know that when the King draws near, Only His own with conscious gladness thrill; Only His own the angel's summons hear Above the ceaseless clamour of the mill. 15. Time in Eternity. Do they measure the time where thou art ? Dost thou know How the immutable, relentless years, Delaying not for human hopes or fears, In long processionals still come and go ? When as of old thy summer roses blow, Art thou aware, thou who art done with tears, O blessed habitant of other spheres, Takest thou heed of earth's hoar-frost and snow? We count the years, and tell them, one by one, Since thy feet trod the path where silence is ; How oft the harvest-moon has waned, we say. Dost thou remember when thy rest was won ? Or art thou like to the high gods in this, That unto thee a year is but a day ? a $app2 £>ap 1 6. A Happy Day. The day is ended. Ere I sink to sleep My weary spirit seeks repose in Thine : Father, forgive my trespasses, and keep This little life of mine. With loving-kindness curtain Thou my bed, And cool in rest my burning pilgrim feet ; Thy pardon be the pillow for my head, So shall my sleep be sweet. , 17. An Evening Prayer. The day is done; the weary day of thought and toil is past. Soft falls the twilight cool and grey on the tired earth at last. By wisest teachers wearied, by gentlest friends oppressed, 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 longing eyes; I< 21 giimtrap afternoon t&ttjstfs *■ And folded by Thy sheltering hand, in refuge still and deep, Let blessed thoughts from Thee descend, as drop the dews of sleep. 1 8. The Work all done. ' And is the twilight closing fast ? (I hear the night-breeze wild) ; And is the long week's work all done?' 1 Thy work is done, my child.' ' Must I not rise at dawn of day ? (The night-breeze swells so wild) ; And must I not resume my toil?' 'No! nevermore, my child.' ' And may I sleep through all the dark ? (The wind to-night is wild) ; And may I rest tired head and feet?' ' Thou mayest rest, my child.' 1 And are the week-day cares gone by ? (Still moan the breezes wild) ; Have all my sorrows sped away?' 1 All sped away, my child.' 22 %%% iaaorft all tioite 1 And may I fold my feeble hands ? (Hush ! breezes sad and wild) ; And may I close these wearied lids ?' 1 Yes, close thine eyes, my child.' 1 And shall I wake again and hear — Ah ! not the night-breeze wild — But heaven's own psalm, full, deep, and calm ?' 1 Heaven's endless psalm, my child.' ' Oh, sweet this last night of the week ! (The breeze sings low and mild) ; To fall asleep in thy kind arms ' 1 Is passing sweet, my child.' * Oh, passing sweet these closing hours ! And sweet the night-breeze mild, And the Sabbath-day that cometh fast !' 'The Eternal Day, my -child.' 1 The night is gone, clear breaks the dawn, It rises soft and mild \ Dear Lord ! I see Thee face to face !' ' Yes ! face to face, my child.' 23 SunUap afternoon tfteust* 19. Thoughts at Twilight. From the dim firs and aspen trees The sun has passed away ; And now this pleasant twilight seems Another, better day. The dying embers on the hearth Give an uncertain light ; And, one by one, the stars come forth, To gaze upon the night. Each in his own appointed place, Faithful and true they stand ; Through the clear air they rain down light Upon the quiet land. Thoughts, busy, eager, restless thoughts, That would not be repressed, Have haunted me all through the day, But now I am at rest. The shadows lie upon the floor, Where'er our glances rove ; But for the light we must look up, Up to the stars above. 24 &!>oue&t0 at 3DtoiIi8f)t Only at times the faintest clouds Across their faces pass, As light and transient as the breath That gathers on a glass. My heart is full of quiet joy, That words but half reveal ; I have been thinking all the day — Now I begin to feel. From the calm faces of the stars All clouds have passed away ; I thank God for the lightest heart That I have had to-day. 20. At Evenfall. Good things had befallen me, all through the day: A blessing of morsels — small helps by the way; Work running on even, and coming out right ; Bright thoughts with the morning, good words with the night. So evening was sweet, and as shadows fell deep My spirit was turned to the' Lord of the sheep. 25 ftimtiap afternoon t&exgee 1 Thou leadest ! Thou feedest ! ' in silence I said; ' And the crumbs from Thy hands are the best of the bread.' 21. Living Love. The sun lets fall a pleasant light Upon this woodland space, Where loved ones, vanished from our sight, Rest in the earth's embrace. His splendours mock the griefs that speak From each memorial stone, And me, who linger here to seek Communion with my own. When skies were bright and spring winds blew, By yonder oaken shade, That heart, so loving, large, and true, Beneath the turf was laid. But still yon gleaming waters leap Rejoicing to the sun, And, careless who may laugh or weep, The circling hours run. 26 ILtting Hotoe These skies, with grand, untroubled brow, Bend calmly over her, And heedlessly the south winds blow, And light the oak leaves stir ; While mated birds, on happy wing, Flit through the oaken shade, Or pause above a grave to sing — The grave where she was laid ! All Nature seems to give consent, And makes no sign of pain ; ' A human life to earth I lent, Then took it back again. What is it to the circling hours, The life they take or bring ? What is it to the dews and flowers, Or birds on happy wing ? ' But I and Nature are at strife, Nor can I rise and say, 1 'Tis well you gave me that sweet life, 'Tis well you took away.' 27 ■►« ftun&ap Afternoon Wlmte O dumb and deaf — O hard and blind ! What can you know or feel ? With reckless smile our hearts you bind And break upon your wheel. What is it to the circling hours, The life they take or bring ? What is it to the winds and showers ? They know not anything ! But somehow, ere I am aware, There comes a hush and thrill, For all the sunshine and the air A Presence seems to fill ; And from the sudden-opening sky, A low Voice seems to say, ' I am the Resurrection, I The Life, the Truth, the Way. This Nature, which you idly blame, Is but the robe I wear ; From Me the human spirit came, And all its griefs I bear. k 4 i » « Hitrinc ILotoe The smile whose light thou canst not see, The grace that left thy side, Though vanished from the earth, with Me For ever they abide.' With Him I cannot be at strife ; Then will I kneel and say, ' In love He gave me that sweet life, In love He took away. And love's unfailing life, in Him, Outlasts this arching sky ; For worlds may waste and suns grow dim, But love can never die.' 22. Content. ' Go home content, the evening falls, Day's tired sinews are unbent ; No more the thrush or linnet calls, The twilight fades, go home content.' 1 Father, the field is but half-turned, And yet the spring is wellnigh spent.' ' My son, the hour of rest is earned, The day's work done, go home content. 5 29 €>uitnap Afternoon Gletfses 1 Father, the field is rough and bare, Its sullen surface scarcely rent ; I '11 plough but one more furrow here.' ' Not now, my son, go home content.' ' Father, the wheat will never root, The sun has sunk the hills anent ; My weary labour will not boot ; With work half-done, how be content ? ' 1 My child, the sun has seen thee toil With sturdy back and brown arms bent ; Though other hands should till this soil, Thy work well done, go home content.' 1 Lord, I have worked my little day On the long task that Thou hast sent ; The evening falls ; my homeward way I go to Thee ; I am content ! ' 23. A Short Creed. What creed half so simple Holds teaching more strong, To fit for earth's warfare And furnish life's song, 30 a S>&ort eEreeu Than this watchword in service : • I believe — I belong ' ? What thought more inspiring, What guidance more plain, What mission more glorious In promise of gain, Than revealed in the living To this motto refrain ? Whatever Thou wiliest My life shall receive, Of sunshine to gladden, Or cloud to bereave — Must alike voice Thy goodness, Once I fully ' believe.' And once I { belong,' I Must faithfully sow Beside all Thy waters, And fearlessly go Where Thou leadest and biddest, My allegiance to show. Oh, help me, my Master, Earth's journey along, True witness to bear to This battle hymn song : ^ 3i ftimtiag afternoon Otetffea Of faith that o'ercometh To evidence give ; And life that is loyal To earnestly live, As my soul makes profession, ' I believe — I belong.' 24. The Last Request. Let your warm hands chill not slipping From my fingers' icy tips ; Be there not the touch of kisses On my uncaressing lips ; Let no kindness see the blindness Of my eyes' last, long eclipse. Never think of me as lying By the dismal mould o'erspread j But about the soft white pillow Folded underneath my head, And of summer flowers weaving Their rich broidery o'er my bed. Think of the immortal spirit Living up above the sky, 32 Zty Hast Eeguest And of how my face is wearing Light of immortality, Looking earthward is o'erleaning The white bastion of the sky. 25. Our own for ever. Our own are our own for ever, God taketh not back His gift ; They may pass beyond our vision, but our souls shall find them out, When the waiting is all accomplished, and the deathly shadows lift, And glory is given for grieving, and the surety of God for doubt. We may find the waiting bitter, and count the silence long : God knoweth we are dust, and He pitieth our pain ; And when faith has grown to fulness, and the silence changed to song, We shall eat the fruit of patience, and shall hunger not again. 33 * Sunuap afternoon (Herges So sorrowing hearts who dumbly in darkness and all alone Sit missing a dear lost presence and the joy of a vanished day, Be comforted with this message that our own are for ever our own, And God, who gave the gracious gift, He takes it never away. 26. A Dialogue. Day after day, Heaven, listening, hears men cry: * What have I done that such a fate as this Should follow me? What have I done amiss That clouds of Care should darken all my sky ? That Pain should pierce, and that shrewd Poverty Should pinch me in that grievous grip of his, What time I tremble over the abyss, And long for death, yet, longing, dare not die?' But when does Heaven, listening, hear men say : 34 ■♦•* 3 Dialoflue * What have I done that in the blue-domed skies The evening star should shine, the spring clouds move, The world be white with innocence, that May Has set afield, and God in children's eyes, To win our hearts to wonder at His love?' 2 7. The Death of Memory. There is a death of memory that is brought Not by oblivion, but by coming light. It fades as childhood fades in manhood's thought, It dies as starlight dies at morning's sight, Not needing things behind. May this forgetfulness, my heart, be thine; Not the great deadness of an outgrown sorrow, But the deep trust that ceases to repine, Since yesterday shall come again to- morrow, Bearing the things behind. 35 ■* >J<_ _ ^ %urtiiSLt afternoon WLttxz Fields of the past to thee shall be no more The burial-ground of friendships once in bloom, But seed-plots of a harvest on before, And prophecies of life with larger room For things that are behind. Live thou in God, and thy dead past shall be Alive for ever with eternal day ; And planted on His bosom thou shalt see The flowers revived that withered on the way Amid the things behind. 28. The Harvest of the Fears. Dark and sad the hours have been In the valley and shade of Death, Where no light mine eyes have seen But the far, cold stars of faith. And my heart with haunting fears Almost sank into despair ; Yet the harvest of my years Mostly has been gathered there * 36 eTome atoap 29. Come away. On an evening dim and grey, As they lay Folded up like flow'rets small, Gently fell the Father's call— 'Come away.' Lingering o'er the last good-bye, See her lie : Let the mother's arms be thrown Once again around her own, Ere she die. She has passed beyond their sight, To the night : But she breathes a purer air In that better country, where All is light. Mystery beyond our ken — Darkest when Little hearts are left to bleed ; When no answer in their need Comes again. 37 ftimtmp afternoon WLztmg To her picture oft they go, Whispering low. Hope may flower from memory's stem : Yet she may be nearer them Than we know. 30. The Rose of the Spirit. When bursts the rose of the spirit From its withering calyx sheath, And the bud has become a blossom Of heavenly colour and breath, Life utters its true revelation Through the silence that we call death. 31. Be brave. When all seems lost, and fate unkind Throws shadows deep around, Be brave, and cast all grief behind, Be strong, and stand your ground ; Line up in front without a fear — Brace up, and face the blast ; Let others weaken in the rear — Be first, and not the last. 38 >.<" 3Se bratoe Thy trouble, loss, or greatest grief May in your darkest day Fill black despair with no relief, Find in the gloom no ray ; But struggle on, be brave and strong, And to the front look forth ; This world is not completely wrong — Press on, and test thy worth. When trumpets call, line up in front, The struggle is for life ; Where danger lies, let nothing daunt Your courage in the strife ; Brave souls meet fate with smiling face ; Be proud to die for right. To fall in front is no disgrace, Care you how goes the fight. 32. The Sleeping Child. The night-wind murmurs in the poplar tree ; The white moon sails in deeps of cloudless sky; The nightingale is singing, all for thee, Her lovely lullaby. — * 39 & * Sunuap Afternoon ©erjse0 The bright light birds that in the sunshine sing, Are sleeping now — as thou, my bird, shouldst be ; The spell of night lies soft on everything — On all the flowers and thee. The lawn is grey with dew j the river flows With ceaseless murmur by the willows grey; Soft sleeping now, the lily and the rose Wait patiently for day. The daisy buds are sleeping — softly curled — Soft sleeps my flower at last upon my knee; And the Almighty Love holds all the world As mother's love holds thee. 33. The Service of God. The hands that do God's work are patient hands, And quick for toil, though folded oft in prayer ; They do the unseen work they understand And find — no matter where. 40 Zt)t Sertrice of <$oti The feet that follow His must be swift feet, For time is all too short, the way too long ; Perchance they will be bruised, but falter not, , For love shall make them strong. The lips that speak God's words must learn to wear Silence and calm, although the pain be long ; And, loving so the Master, learn to share His agony and wrong. 34. If I might kneel. If I might kneel Where Jesus' smile could courage give ; If I sometimes might feel His hand in comfort on my head, And hear Him say : ' My little child, I know it all ; I still will heal Each wound \ be of good cheer.' If I close to His side might stand, And kiss the bruised feet, And know He knew it first, and loves me still, — Perhaps, then in Gethsemane, I might make song above my prayer And feel His face bending to see My need, and clasp my faltering hand, 41 ftunuap Afternoon ©ersea And guide to the white gate, and say, perhaps : * Well done ! This is thy Father's house, Where many mansions be.' Perhaps, all spent with carrying weight In life's sojourn, Give humble faith unto His will, And say, in prayer : ' Thou knowest best. Thy will be done, So I Thy presence earn.' 35. A Vision. Yellow leaves on the ash-tree, Soft glory in the air, And the streaming radiance of sunshine, On the leaden clouds over there. At a window a child's mouth smiling, Overhung with tearful eyes At the flying rainy landscape And the sudden opening skies. Angels hanging from heaven, A whisper in dying ears, And the promise of great salvation Shining on mortal fears. 42 -►« 3 (Hitfiou A dying man on his pillow, Whose white soul fled to his face, Puts on her garment of joyfulness And stretches to Death's embrace. Passion, rapture, and blindness, Yearning, aching, and fears, And faith and duty gazing With steadfast eyes upon tears. I see, or the glory blinds me Of a soul divinely fair, Peace after great tribulation, And victory hung in the air. 36. The Little Boy. A sight of help he was — our little boy 'at went, Pudgin' around with little trousers on ! But what was more than all his working meant, He seemed to be our sunshine, now he 's gone. He 'd go to take the cows to pasture morns, An' seems I hear his tiny whistle now, As I go out and walk about the barns, Or take the team afield and try to plough. 43 Suntiap afternoon Verses About the house he kept a sight of noise, Singin' or trampin' at his boyish will ! It did not seem with health jest like my boy's His voice could hush so quick an 5 be so still. But he weren't sick much more'n a week, I b'l'eve, An' kept his little senses durin' all ; An' didn't grumble 'cause he had to leave, But lay there still like lis'nin' for a call. That evenin' that I never will forget, He lay beside the winder an' looked out. I 'd sorter hoped 'at God would spare him yet, An' give us back his noisy step an' shout. But sudden-like he gazed intent ahead, While crooned the katydids jest out the door, An' — ' Angels, mammy ! See 'em, pap ? ' he said, An' then was still an' never said no more. Now, sometimes standin' by the medder bars Waitin' the cows, all lonesome and forlorn, The heavens twinklin' with the cur'ous stars, The breezes whisp'rin' 'mongst the rustlin' corn — 44 -* %\>z iLittle 33op I wush the rustle was of angels' wings, The stars the guidin' lamps of seraphs, come, To waft us after all our sorrowin's Where we'n' our boy will be again at home. 37. The River and the Sea. The course of the weariest river Ends in the great, grey sea ; The acorn for ever and ever Strives upward to the tree ; The rainbow, the sky adorning, Shines promise through the storm ; The glimmer of coming morning Through midnight gloom will form By time all knots are riven, Complex although they may be. And peace will at last be given, Dear, both to you and me. Then, though the path be dreary, Look forward to the goal ; Though the head and the heart be weary, Let faith inspire the soul. * 45 Sunuap Afternoon dersea Seek the right, though the wrong be tempting j Speak the truth at any cost ; Vain is all weak exempting When once that gem is lost ; Let strong hand and keen eye be ready For plain or ambushed foes ; Thought earnest and fancy steady Bear best unto the close. The heavy clouds may be raining, But with evening comes the light ; Through the dark, low winds complaining, Yet the sunrise gilds the height ; And love has its hidden treasure For the patient and the pure ; And Time gives his fullest measure To the workers who endure ; And the Word that no lore has shaken Has the future pledge supplied ; For we know that when we ' awaken ' We shall be ' satisfied.' 38. Sweet Ghosts. Why do the houses stand When they that built them are gone ? When remaineth even of one 46 Stoeet <8i>O0t0 That lived there and loved and planned Not a face, not an eye, not a hand, Only here and there a bone ? Why do the houses stand When they that built them are gone ? Oft in the moonlight land, When the day is overblown, With happy memorial moan, Sweet ghosts in a loving band Roam through the houses that stand — For the builders are not gone. 39. Couldst Thou love Me ? Couldst thou love Me when friends are failing, Because fast paling Thy fortunes flee ? Couldst thou prevent thy lips from wailing, And say, ' I still have Thee ' ? Couldst thou love Me when wealth is flying, The night-blast sighing Through life's proud tree ? Couldst thou withhold thy heart from dying, And find its life in Me ? 47 SunUap afternoon Winzes Couldst thou love Me when tears are welling Within thy dwelling Once glad and free ? Couldst thou escape their flood's high swelling, And reach thine ark in Me ? Couldst thou love Me when suns are setting, Their glow forgetting In thought of Me ? Couldst thou refrain thy soul from fretting For days that used to be ? Couldst thou love Me when creeds are breaking, Old landmarks shaking With wind and sea? Couldst thou restrain the earth from quaking And rest thy heart in Me ? Couldst thou love Me when storms are roaring, Their torrents pouring O'er mart and lea ? Couldst thou on larger wings be soaring, And hear all calm in Me ? 48 £oult!0t 3Ei>ou lobe JBe? Couldst thou love Me when death is nearing, A mist appearing In all but Me ? If then thy heart cast out its fearing, Thy love shall perfect be. 40. Crucified again. Love, o'er palms in triumph strown, Passing, through the crowd alone — Silent mid the exulting cry To Jerusalem to die : Thou, foreknowing all, didst know How Thy blood in vain would flow, How our madness oft would prove Recreant to the law of love ; Wrongs that men from men endure Doing Thee to death once more. 41. Going back. Oh, to go back across the years long vanished, To have the words unsaid, the deeds un- done, The errors cancelled, the deep shadows ban- ished, In the glad sense of a new world begun ; W ■* gumirap afternoon WLttfsta To be a little child, whose page of story Is yet undimmed, unblotted by a stain, And in the sunrise of primeval glory To know that life has had its start again ! I may go back across the years long vanished, I may resume my childhood, Lord, in Thee, When in the shadow of Thy cross are banished All other shadows that encompass me : And o'er the road that now is dark and dreary, This soul, made buoyant by the strength of rest, Shall walk untired, shall run and not be weary, To bear the blessing that has made it blest. 42. Meeting with Christ. I wait for Thee at earth's gates of gold, Where the river of life runs full and free, Where the heart is young, and the tale untold, And the storm not heard on the sea j But I cannot catch the sound of Thy feet For the rush of that river so deep and strong, And Thy still small voice, so low and sweet, Is drowned in the siren's song. ► «- 50 J&eetinG toitf) eTfjrist I wait for Thee at earth's gates of care, Where the toilers work and the burdened bend, Where the timid sink in a great despair, And the bravest hope for the end. And lo ! as I join that fainting band, To lend in my strength one arm the more, There breaks a light on the shadowy land, And I see Thee on before. We shall meet in Galilee's vale of tears, Where the heart is touched with a common woe, And Thy form, transfigured by golden years, In the breaking of bread I shall know. In the breaking of bread I shall know Thy face, Spite of all its change in the light above ; And beneath its smile I shall trembling trace The print of the wounds of love. 43. For Autumn. The ripening maple leaf Doth wear no sombre panoply of grief, But to the sky doth hold The scarlet and the gold, 5i ftunnag afternoon ©ersea Rejoicing that the finished leaf can bear The life of many summers shining there. When leaves fall fast, The brightest sometimes reach the earth the last. The ripening of the years — Why should it wear the sombreness of tears ? Love, art thou growing old ? The scarlet and the gold Of life's October, may they still be thine, And all sweet summers on thy forehead shine, Till thou art found More beautiful, as thou dost touch the ground. 44. The Leaves and the Ages. Lightly He blows, and at His breath they fall, The perishing kindreds of the leaves ; they drift, Spent flames of scarlet, gold aerial, Across the hollow year, noiseless and swift. Lightly He blows, and countless as the falling Of snow by night upon a solemn sea, 52 2Tl)e Heater anU t|>e 3ce0 *■ The ages circle down beyond recalling, To strew the hollows of eternity. He sees them drifting through the spaces dim. And leaves and ages are as one to Him. 45. Despair. Despair was never yet so deep In sinking as in seeming ; Despair is hope just dropped asleep, For better chance of dreaming. 46. Trust. Sparrow, He guardeth thee ! Never a flight but thy wings He upholdeth, Never a night but thy rest He infoldeth ; Safely He guardeth thee. Lily, He robeth thee ! Though thou must fade, by the summer be- moaned, Thou art arrayed fair as monarch enthroned ; Spotless He robeth thee. 53 fttmUag afternoon Wletses Hear, thou of little faith ! Sparrow and lily are soulless and dying — Eternity thine ! will He slight thy crying ? Trust, thou of little faith ! 47. The Carpenter's Son. They said, ' The carpenter's son.' To me, No dearer thing in the Book I see, For He must have risen with the light, And patiently toiled until the night. He too was weary when evening came, For well He knoweth our mortal frame, And He remembers the weight of dust, So His frail children may sing and trust. We often toil till our eyes grow dim, Yet our hearts faint not because of Him. The workers are striving everywhere, Some with a pitiful load of care ; Many in peril upon the sea, Or deep in the mine's dark mystery, While mothers nor day nor night can rest ; I fancy the Master loves them best. For many a little head has lain On the heart pierced by redemption's pain. 1 *■ 54 *« Wqz elarpenter'a Son He was so tender with fragile things, He saw the sparrow with broken wings. His mother, loveliest woman born, Had humble tasks in her home each morn And He thought of her the cross above, So burdened women must have His love. For labour, the common lot of man, Is part of a kind Creator's plan, And he is a king whose brow is wet With the pearl-gemmed crown of honest sweat. Some glorious day, this understood, All toilers will be a brotherhood. With brain or hand the purpose is one, And the master workman, God's own Son. 48. Sorrow at Easter. Many a year the Easter came, laughing o'er land and sea, Wafting the perfume of lilies wherever its dawn light fell, Kindling the flames of the roses, and waving their torches free, Far over hill and mountain, and deep in the lonesome dell. 55 Suntiap Afternoon (Heraes And many a year at Easter I sat in the old church loft, And lifted my voice in Te Deums, and sang like a mavis clear, Sang of glory and triumph, and my voice thrilled sweet and soft, Oh ! many a time in the Easter of many a cloudless year. Till there fell a season of anguish, when the stars went out in the sky, When I covered my face, and bent my knees, and beat with a hopeless prayer At the golden gates of heaven that were shut to my bitter cry, While the Angel of Death at my threshold was deaf to my love's despair. Then, straight on that wild, bleak winter there followed the fairest spring, With snowdrops and apple blossoms in riotous haste to bloom, With the sudden note of the robin, and the flash of the bluebird's wing, And all that was mine of its beauty was the turf that covered a tomb. 56 <&orroto at (Easter Oh ! the bells rang out for Easter, rang strong and sweet and shrill, And the organ's rolling thunder pealed through the long church aisle, And the children fluttered with flowers, and I sat mute and still, I who had clean forgotten both how to pray and to smile. And I murmured in fierce rebellion : ' There is nought that endures below, Nought but the lamentations that are rent from souls in pain ' ; And the joy of the Easter music, it struck on my ears like a blow, For I knew that my day was over, I could never be glad again ! And then — how it happened I know not — there was One in my sight who stood, And lo ! on His brow was the thorn-print, in His hands were the nails' rough scars, And the shadow that lay before Him was the shade of the holy rood, But the glow in His eyes was deeper than the light of the morning stars. 57 €>imDa2 Afternoon Wcztzzz 1 Daughter,' He said, ' have comfort ! Arise ! keep Easter-tide ! I, for thy sins who suffered and died on the cruel tree, I, who was dead, am living ; no evil shall e'er betide Those who, beyond or waiting, are pledged unto life with Me.' Now I wake to a holier Easter, happier than of old, And again my voice is lifted in Te Deums sweet and strong ; I send it to join the anthem in the wonderful city of gold, Where the hymns of the ransomed for ever are timed to the Easter song. And I can be glad with the gladness that is born of a perfect peace ; On the strength of the Strong I am resting; I know that His will is best, And who that has found that secret from dark- ness has won release, And even in sorrow's exile may lift up her eyes and be blessed. £ 58 Spareu 49. Spared. The fever went at the turn of the night, She lies like a lily, white and still, But her eyes are full of the old love-light ; She'll live, if it be God's will. God's will, had it been to snatch her away, We had bowed, we had knelt, we had kissed the rod, But His own dear will bids our darling stay, And we, we just thank God. 50. The Masters Chisel. 'Tis the Master who holds the chisel ; He knows just where Its edge should be driven sharpest To fashion there The semblance that He is carving ; Nor will He let One delicate stroke too many Or few be set On forehead, or cheek, where only He sees how all Is tending — and where the hardest The blow should fall 59 '* €>imfcap Afternoon Reuses Which crumbles away whatever Superfluous line Would hinder His hand from making The work divine. With tools of Thy choosing, Master, We pray Thee, then, Strike just as Thou wilt j as often, And where, and when The vehement stroke is needed. I will not mind, If only Thy chipping chisel Shall leave behind Such marks of Thy wondrous working And loving skill Clear carven on aspect, stature, And face, as will, When discipline's ends are over, Have all sufficed To mould me into the likeness And form of Christ. 51. Restoratiofi. We are quite sure That He will give them back — Bright, pure, and beautiful — ►£ 60 Bestoration We know that He will but keep Our own and His until we fall asleep ; We know He does not mean To break the strands reaching between The Here and There. He does not mean — though heaven be fair — To change the spirits entering there, That they forget. The eyes upraised and wet, The lips too still for prayer, The mute despair, He will not take The spirits which He gave, and make The glorified so new That they are lost to me and you. I do believe They will receive Us, you and me, and be so glad To meet us, that when most I would grow sad I just begin to think about the gladness And the day When they shall tell us all about the way That they have learned to go — Heaven's pathways show 61 €mnUap Sftemoott faeces My lost, my own, and I Shall have so much to see together by- and-by. I do believe that just the same sweet face, But glorified, is waiting in the place Where we shall meet, if only I Am counted worthy in that by-and-by. I do believe that God will give a sweet sur- prise To tear-stained, saddened eyes, And that His heaven will be Most glad, most tided through with joy For you and me, As we have suffered most. God never made Spirit for spirit, answering shade for shade, And placed them side by side — So wrought in one, though separate, mystified, And meant to break The quivering threads between. When we shall wake, I am quite sure, we will be very glad That for a little while we were so sad. 62 2iaaaitiit0 for <£oti 52. Waiting for God. As those that watch for the day Through the restless night of pain, When the first faint streaks of gray Bring rest and ease again — As they turn their sleepless eyes The eastern sky to see, Long hours before sunrise — So waiteth my soul for Thee ! As those that watch for the day Through the long, long night of grief, When the soul can only pray That the day may bring relief— When the eyes with weeping spent No dawn of hope can see, But the heart keeps watch intent — So waiteth my soul for Thee ! As those that watch for the day Through that deepest night of all, When trembling and sin have sway, And the shades of Thy absence fall : t>Z &imnap Afternoon Gtexeess *i+ As they search through clouds of fear The Morning Star to see, And the Light of Life appear — So waiteth my soul for Thee ! As those that watch for the day And know that the day will rise !— Though the weary hours delay, As they pass under midnight skies- Through the Sun of Righteousness Only faith's clear eye can see, Because Thou hast promised to bless, Lord Jesus, I wait for Thee. 53. Show me Thy Way. Dark the night, the snow is falling ; Through the storm are voices calling ; Guides mistaken and misleading, Far from home and help receding. Vain is all those voices say ; Show me Thy way ! Blind am I as those that guide me ; Let me feel Thee close beside me ! 64 §f)oto me TOP ataHap Come as light into my being ! Unto me be eyes, all-seeing ! Hear my one heart's wish, I pray : Show me Thy way ! Son of man, and Lord immortal, Opener of the heavenly portal, In Thee all my hope is hidden ; Never yet was soul forbidden Near Thee, always near, to stay ; Show me Thy way ! Thou art truth's eternal morning ; Led by Thee, all evil scorning, Through the paths of pure salvation I shall find Thy habitation, Whence I never more shall stray ; Show me Thy way ! Thou must lead me, and none other, Truest Lover, Friend, and Brother, Thou art my soul's shelter, whether Stars gleam out or tempests gather ; In Thy presence night is day ; Show me Thy way ! §unBap gftemooit Wlzizzh 54. A Sinking Heart. Fighting alone to-night ! With what a sinking heart, — Lord Jesus, in the fight O stand not Thou apart ! Body and mind have tried To make the field my own ; But when the Lord is on my side, He doeth the work alone. And when He hideth His face, And the battle-clouds prevail, It is only through His grace If I do not utterly fail. The word of old was true — And its truth shall never cease, — ' The Lord shall fight for you, And ye shall hold your peace.' Lord, I would fain be still And quiet behind my shield ; But make me to love Thy will, For fear I should ever yield. 66 ^|>e doming of t|>e Daton 55. The Coming of the Dawn. Let love weep, — It cometh, that day of the Lord divine ; And the morning star will surely shine On the long death-night of sleep. Let faith fear, — The unending light comes on apace ; The path leads homeward from this place ; Through the twilight home must appear. Let hope despair, — Let death and the grave shout victory, — That flush of the morning yet shall be, Which shall wake the slumberers there ! 56. The Rainfall follows the Plow. I heard an old farmer talk one day, Telling his listeners how, In the wide, new country far away, The rainfall follows the plow. ' As fast as they break it up, you see, And turn the heart to the sun, As they open the furrows deep and free, And the tillage is begun, 67 Simtjap afternoon ©ersee ► •«- The earth grows mellow, and more and more It holds and sends to the sky A moisture it never had before When its face was hard and dry. And so, whenever the plowshares run, The clouds run overhead ; And the soil that works and lets in the sun, With water is always fed.' I wonder if that old farmer knew The half of his simple word, Or guessed the message that heavenly true Within it was hidden and heard ? It fell on my ear by chance that day, But the gladness lingers now, To think it is always God's dear way That the rainfall follows the plow. 57. The Dying Thief. When the Christ, my Lord, hung dying, Dying on the shameful tree, Men in all their madness mocked Him ; Yet no word at all said He. 68 Qty Dpinc 3Efrief But when at His side a sinner, Hanging there in shame to die, Pleading, sought His loving favour, Swiftly came love's glad reply. * When Thou comest to Thy kingdom, ' Lord,' he cried, ' remember me.' 1 Ay, to-day, with Me in glory,' Jesus answered, ' thou shalt be.' Was not this most wondrous pity, So to bless a dying thief ; E'en amid His own deep anguish, Thus to give a soul relief? Still He hears the needy pleading, Still He hears when sinners pray, Answers every plea in mercy, Sends no soul unblessed away. Guilty, weary, sin-stained, laden, Fear not now on Him to call j Though your sins be without number, Freely He '11 forgive them all. Tell it in the highest heaven, Tell it in the depths below, Tell it to the lost and outcast, Tell it in the haunts of woe j 69 §unDap afternoon WLttgzz To the very chief of sinners Let the blessed tidings go : He who asks to be forgiven Shall the Saviour's mercy know. 58. The Lord at the Loom. Children of yesterday, Heirs of to-morrow, What are you weaving — Labour or sorrow ? Look to your looms again, Faster and faster Fly the great shuttles Prepared by the Master j Life 's in the loom, Room for it — room ! Children of yesterday, Heirs of to-morrow, Lighten the labour And sweeten the sorrow. Now — while the shuttles fly Faster and faster, Up and be at it — At work with the Master ; ► «. 70 S£e Horn at t$e Hoom He stands at your loom, Room for Him — room ! Children of yesterday, Heirs of to-morrow, Look at your fabric Of labour and sorrow. Seamy and dark With despair and disaster, Turn it — and lo, The design of the Master ! The Lord 's at the loom, Room for Him — room ! 59. Dead and Dying. The saints are dead, the martyrs dead, And Mary and our Lord, and I Would follow in humility. 60. In the Days of His Flesh. They come to Thee, the halt, the maimed, the blind, The devil-torn, the sick, the sore ; Thy heart their well of life they find, Thine ear their open door. 71 Suntiap afternoon GXetses Ah ! who can tell the joy in Palestine — What smiles and tears of rescued throngs ! Their lees of life were turned to wine, Their prayers to shouts and songs ! The story dear our wise men fable call, Give paltry facts the mighty range ; To me it seems just what should fall, And nothing very strange. But were I deaf and lame and blind and sore, I scarce would care for cure to ask ; Another prayer should haunt Thy door — Set Thee a harder task. If Thou art Christ, see here this heart of mine, Torn, empty, moaning, and unblest ! Had ever heart more need of Thine, If Thine indeed hath rest ? Thy word, Thy hand right soon did scare the bane That in their bodies death did breed ; If Thou canst cure my deeper pain, Then art Thou Lord indeed. 72 3t §c|>ool toitf) €$ti8t >j4- 6 1. -4/ School with Christ. I said, This task is keen — But even while I spake, Thou, Love Divine, Didst stand behind, and gently over-lean My drooping form, and, oh ! what task had been Too stern for feebleness with help of Thine ? Spell Thou this lesson with me line by line, The sense is rigid, but the voice is dear : Guide Thou my hand within that hand of Thine— Thy wounded hand ! until its tremblings take Strength from Thy touch, and even for Thy sake Trace out each character in outline clear. 62. The Master's Need. ' If I had dwelt ' — so mused a tender woman, All fine emotions stirred Through pondering o'er that life, divine yet human, Told in the sacred word — 73 SuntJap afternoon GXetsea ' If I had dwelt of old, a Jewish maiden, In some Judsean street Where Jesus walked, and heard His word so laden With comfort strangely sweet ; And seen the face, where utmost pity blended With each rebuke of wrong ; I would have left my lattice, and descended, And followed with the throng. If I had been the daughter, jewel-girdled, Of some rich rabbi there, Seeing the sick, blind, halt — my blood had curdled At sight of such despair ; And I had wrenched the sapphires from my fillet, Nor let one spark remain ; Snatched up my gold, amid the crowd to spill it, For pity of their pain. I would have let the palsied fingers hold me, I would have walked between The Marys and Salome, while they told me About the Magdalene. 74 "* tEf>e Raster's ii9eeU Foxes have holes — I think my heart had broken, To hear the words so said, — While Christ had not — were sadder ever spoken ? — A place to lay His head ! I would have flung abroad my doors before Him, And in my joy have been First on the threshold, eager to adore Him, And crave His entrance in ! ' — Ah ! would you so ? Without a recognition You passed Him yesterday ; Jostled aside, unhelped, His mute petition, And calmly went your way. With warmth and comfort, garmented and girdled, Before your window-sill Sad crowds sweep by; and if your blood is curdled, You wear your jewels still. You catch aside your robes, lest want should clutch them, In its imploring wild ; Or lest some woful penitent might touch them, And you be thus defiled. 75 Suntrap afternoon foezstB O dreamers, dreaming that your faith is keeping All service free from blot, Christ daily walks your streets, sick, suffering, weeping, And ye perceive Him not ! 63. A Flash. ' The chief want in life is somebody who shall make us do the best we can. ' — Emerson. A flash ! You came into my life, And lo, adown the years, Rainbows of promise stretched across The sky grown grey with tears ; By day you were my sun of gold, By night my silver moon ; I could not from the Father's hands Have asked a greater boon. Life's turbid stream grew calm and clear, The cold winds sank to rest, Hand-clasped with you, no bitter pain Found dwelling in my breast j I did not dread life's care and toil, Your love dispelled all gloom, And now on graves of buried hopes The sweetest violets bloom. 76 a Bag!) My every breath and every thought Were pure because of you, I had not dreamed that Heaven could be So close to mortal view ; My hands and feet were swift to do The good that near them lay, And in my heart throughout the year The joy-bird sang each day. A flash ! You passed out of my life — No, no ! Your spirit still Is sun and moon and guiding star Through every cloud and ill ; As down the rainbowed years I go You still are at my side, And some day I shall stand with you Among the glorified. 64. Pour out Thy Love. Pour out thy love like the rush of a river. Wasting its waters for ever and ever, Through the burnt sands that reward not the giver; Silent or songful thou nearest the sea. 77 dimUap afternoon ©ewe* Scatter thy life as the summer showers pouring. What if no bird through the pearl rain is soaring ? What if no blossom looks upward adoring ? Look to the life that was lavished for thee. 65. The Potter and the Clay. Thou, Thou art the Potter, and we are the Clay, And morning and even, and day after day, Thou turnest Thy wheel, and our substance is wrought, Into form of Thy will, into shape of Thy thought. Thou, Thou art the Potter, the wheel turns around. Thine eyes do not leave it. Our atoms were ground Fine, fine in Thy mills. O the pain and the cost! Thou knowest their number : not one shall be lost. Should Clay to the Potter make answer and say, 78 3Tf)e Potter anU t|>e Clap ' Now what dost Thou fashion ? ' Thy hand would not stay : Untiring, resistless, without any sound, True, true to its Master, the wheel would go round. How plastic are we as we live in Thy hands ! Who, who as the Potter the Clay understands ? Thy ways are a wonder, but oft, as a spark, Some hint of Thy meaning shines out in the dark. What portion is this for the sensitive Clay ! To be beaten and moulded from day unto day; To answer not, question not, just to be still, And know Thou art shaping us unto Thy will. This, this may we plead with Thee, Workman Divine — Press deep in our substance some symbol of Thine, Thy name or Thy image, and let it be shown That Thou wilt acknowledge the work as Thine own. 79 ■* Sunnap Afternoon ©ersee 66. Waiting in Peace. Serene I fold my hands and wait, Nor care for wind, or tide, or sea ; I rave no more 'gainst time or fate, For, lo ! my own shall come to me. I stay my haste, I make delays, For what avails this eager pace ? I stand amid the eternal ways, And what is mine shall know my face. Asleep, awake, by night or day, The friends I seek are seeking me ; No wind can drive my bark astray, Nor change the tide of destiny. What matter if I stand alone ? I wait with joy the coming years ; My heart shall reap where it has sown, And garner up its fruit of tears. The waters know their own, and draw The brooks that spring in yonder height; So flows the good with equal law Unto the soul of pure delight. 80 Waiting in IPeace The stars come nightly to the sky ; The tidal wave unto the sea ; Nor time, nor space, nor deep, nor high, Can keep my own away from me. 67. God all in all These are the words of blessed Paul, ' God shall at last be all in all. 5 Herein his words make truly known, God will at last recall His own. These words of blessed Paul imply That all in dying do not die. To all ■ the end,' be what it may, Come in mid-darkness or mid-day, 1 Cometh,' he says. Then it shall fall, So that ' God may be all in all.' In these brave words of blessed Paul, 1 God shall at last be all in all.' 68. The Love Treaty. In every Love-treaty Death goes to the reckon- ing; And now he is closing on yours and mine ; We have battled him bravely from line to line, Till at last he is with us, his lean hand beckoning. n- 81 * Suntiap afternoon Wituzfi Nearer and nearer his shadow is blackening, Slowly effacing our life's design ; In every Love-treaty Death goes to the reckon- ing, And now he is closing on yours and mine. O Love ! though my hand on the helm be slackening, And a heart from a heart is hard to un- twine, Our dark night of sorrow brings brighter awakening ; The conqueror carries a message divine, Of a treaty where Death has no part in this reckoning, And Love evermore shall be yours and mine. 69. a G. R. It was little for her to die, For her, to whom breath was prayer, For her, who had long put by Earth-desire, Who had knelt in the Holy Place And had drunk the incense-air, 82 €* <$♦ E* Till her soul to seek God's face Leapt like fire. It was only to slip her free Of the vestal raiment worn O'er the lengthening lily lea Toward the west, For a robe more lustrous white By the sunset spirits borne From mansions jewel-bright Of her rest. It was only to shift her clime, Clinging still to the harp of gold, Fairy-gift of her cradle-time, Angel-gift, Of a strain so thrilling rare We shall hunger on earthly wold And listen if down the air Echoes drift. It was little for her to pass From this storm-sea, sorrow-iced, To a summer sea of glass, Sea of sky, 83 Suntjag afternoon ISLztzw To change the dream and the spur For the truth, the goal, the Christ. Oh, but it was for her Much to die. 70. The Fever healed. He touched her hands and the fever left her ; Oh ! we need His touch on our fevered hands j The cool, still touch of the Man of Sorrows, Who knows us and loves us, and understands. It may be the fever of pain and anger, When the wounded spirit is hard to bear, And only the Lord can draw forth the arrows Left carelessly, cruelly, rankling there. Whatever the fever, His touch can heal it, Whatever the tempest, His voice can still ; There is only joy as we seek His pleasure ; There is only rest as we choose His will. 71 At her Grave Love strong as life, was powerless to save ; We can but strew fresh flowers upon the grave. 84 9tt Iftx <$ratoe Yet in this grave, tear-moistened and new-made, Where we must leave the happiness of years, May not a worthier sacrifice be laid Than even our fairest flowers or wildest tears ? If we should bury with the pure white bloom A cherished folly or a secret sin, It might make holier the silent tomb, Deepen the peace the dead lies folded in. O mute, cold grave ! that doth receive our lost, And with our lost the offerings of our love, Take these things also ; we do count the cost, And God in heaven doth, looking down, approve. Sleep, darling, sleep ; pray God that dies with thee Which might have parted us eternally ! 72. The One Home. Thou goest thine, and I go mine — Many ways we wend ; Many days, and many ways, Ending in one end. 4 ' ■ »' §5 Suntiap afternoon t&ztzt* Many a wrong, and its curing song ; Many a road, and many an inn ; Room to roam, but only one home For all the world to win. 73. Love Abiding. O light of dead and of dying days ! O Love ! in thy glory go, In a rosy mist and a moony maze, O'er the pathless peaks of snow. But what is left for the cold grey soul, That moans like a wounded dove ? One wine is left in the broken bowl — Tis — ' To love, and love, and love.' 74. Might have been. 'It might have been,' we sigh, and then we heave To its deep grave our coffin silently ; But our dark tears some unknown gleam re- ceive — We lift our eyes and say : * It still may be.' M ^^ 86 1 JFrientJ ' 75. 'Friend' There are who come to me, and write, and send, Whom I would love, giving good things to all, But 'friend' — that name I cannot on them spend ; Tis from the centre of self-love they call For cherishing — for which they first must know How to be still, and take the seat that 's low ; When, Lord, shall I be fit — when wilt Thou call me friend ? Wilt Thou not one day, Lord? In all my wrong, Self-love and weakness, laziness and fear, This one thing I can say : 'lam content To be and have what in Thy heart I am meant To be and have.' In my best times I long After Thy will, and think it glorious-dear ; Even in my worst, perforce my will to Thine is bent. 76. Soft Silence. As loving friends sit sometimes hand in hand, Nor mar with sound the sweet speech of their eyes ; So in soft silence let us oftener kneel, •i«- 87 ftuntiap Afternoon tSLetets Nor try with words to make God understand. Longing is prayer ; upon its wings we rise To where the airs of heaven around us steal. 77. With the Dead. I sit in my room when the gathering gloom Of the early night draws on, In my hearth-fire's blaze the roses bloom Out of dear summers gone. I sit alone, but my loved, my own, Come trooping in to me, Till shadow and light alike are bright With gay good company. There 's the maiden sweet, whose weary feet Grew tired so soon on the way, That her day was done ere the nooning fleet Had paled a golden ray. With her cheek so fair, and her dusky hair, And her dark eyes' slumbering fire, She comes and sits in the easy chair, Friend of my heart's desire. 88 TOti) t&e Deafc Then a brave young lad, like a hunter clad In sheathing robes of fur, Vaults merrily in, with a greeting glad, Taking his place by her. She is in heaven, and he on earth, Fighting the Arctic cold ; And I see them both, beside my hearth, In the firelight's glimmering gold. Patter and tap, and small hands clap To the fall of fairy shoon, Dear little children climb to my lap, And I hear the ghost of a tune. Then, white tents rise, under starlit skies ; Then, the sentinel's measured tramp, Banner and drum, the armies come, And the world is a moving camp. 78. The Silence breaking. Not every soul may hear, Yet to the listening ear God's lips are ever near. S5 Sunna^ afternoon QXzxmz Heard'st thou the silence break ? Speak, for the dull world's sake ! Speak, though thine own heart quake ! 79. Jerusalem the Golden. Jerusalem the Golden, I languish for one gleam Of all thy glory folden In distance, and in dream ! My thoughts, like palms in exile, Climb up to look and pray For a glimpse of that dear Country That lies so far away. Jerusalem the Golden ; There all our Birds that flew, — . Our Flowers but half-unfolden, Our Pearls that turned to dew, — And all the glad life-music Now heard no longer here, Shall come again to greet us As we are drawing near. Jerusalem the Golden ! I toil on day by day ; 90 Jenwalem t&e <&ol&en Heart-sore each night, with longing I stretch my hands and pray That midst thy leaves of healing My soul may find her nest, Where the Wicked cease from troubling, The Weary are at rest. 80. Nearer. The daisy follows soft the sun, And, when his golden work is done, Sits shyly at his feet. He, waking, finds the flower near. 'Wherefore, marauder, art thou here? ; ' Because, sir, love is sweet !' We are the flower, Thou the Sun ! Forgive us if, as days decline, We nearer steal to Thee ; Enamoured of the parting west, The peace, the flight, the amethyst, Night's possibility ! 91 -►« SimUap afternoon tftztist* 8 1. To my Heart. O heart of mine, we shouldn't Worry so ! What we 've missed of calm, we couldn't Have, you know ! What we 've met of storm and pain, And of sorrow's driving rain, We can better meet again, If it blow ! We have erred in that dark hour, We have known, When the stars fell with the shower, All alone — Were not shine and shower blent As the gracious Master meant ? Let us temper our content With His own. For we know, not every morrow Can be sad ; So, forgetting all the sorrow We have had, Let us fold away our fears, And put by our foolish tears, ■* 3To mt C^eart And through all the coming years Just be glad. 82. Grief Fading. A consecrating hand time seems to lay On all it gave. Griefs fade, and tender lights of memory play Even o'er the grave. 83. Lord, remember Me. If love in its silence be greater, stronger Than million promises, sighs, or tears — I will wait upon Him a little longer Who holdeth the balance of our years. Little white clouds like angels flying, Bring the spring with you across the sea — Loving or losing, living or dying, Lord, remember, remember me ! 84. / will not doubt. I will not doubt, though all my ships at sea Come drifting home, with broken masts and sails; I will believe the Hand which never fails, — i 93 Sbimtiap afternoon WLzt&ta From seeming evil, worketh good for me ; And though I weep because those sails are tattered, Still will I cry, while my best hopes lie shattered, ' 1 trust in Thee.' I will not doubt, though all my prayers return Unanswered from the still white realm above ; I will believe it is an all-wise love Which has refused these things for which I yearn ; And though at times I cannot keep from grieving, Yet the pure ardour of my fixed believing Undimmed shall burn. I will not doubt, though sorrows fall like rain, And troubles swarm like bees about to hive; I will believe the heights for which I strive Are only reached by anguish and by pain ; And though I groan and writhe beneath my crosses, I yet shall see through my severest losses The greater gain. 94 31 toitl not Uoubt I I will not doubt. Well anchored in this faith, Like some staunch ship, my soul braves every gale, So strong its courage will not quail To breast the mighty unknown sea of death. Oh may I cry, though body parts with spirit, ' I do not doubt,' so listening worlds may hear it With my last breath ! 85. For a ChiloVs Sake. Because of one small low-laid head all crowned With golden hair, For evermore all fair young brows to me A halo wear ; I kiss them reverently. Alas ! I know The pain I bear. Because of dear but close-shut holy eyes Of heaven's own blue, All little eyes do fill my own with tears — Whate'er their hue ; And motherly I gaze their innocent Clear depths into. Because of little pallid lips, which once My name did call, 95 ■4 §unuap afternoon Wletseis No childish voice in vain appeal upon My ears doth fall ; I count it all my joy their joys to share And sorrows small. Because of little dimpled hands Which folded lie, All little hands henceforth to me do have A pleading cry ; I clasp them as they were small wandering birds Lured home to fly. Because of little death-cold feet, for earth's Rough roads unmeet, I 'd journey leagues to save from sin or harm Such little feet, And count the lowliest service done for them So sacred — sweet ! 86. Beyond. Something I may not win attracts me ever — Something elusive, yet supremely fair ; Thrills me with gladness, yet contents me never, Fills me with sadness, yet forbids despair. 96 SSeponU It blossoms just beyond the paths I follow, It shines beyond the farthest stars I see ; It echoes faint from ocean caverns hollow, And from the land of dreams it beckons me. It calls, and all my best, with joyful feeling, Essays to reach it as I make reply ; I feel its sweetness o'er my spirit stealing, Yet know ere I attain it I must die. 87. The Master of the Sheep/old. De Massa ob de sheepfol', Dat guard de sheepfol' bin, Look out in de gloomerin' meadows, Whar the long night rain begin, So He call to de hirelin' shepa'd, ' Is my sheep, is dey all come in ?' O den says de hirelin' shepa'd, ' Dey 's some dey 's black and thin, And some dey 's po' ol' wedda's, But de res' dey 's all brung in.' 97 Suntiap Afternoon QJerges Den de Massa ob de sheepfol', Dat guard de sheepfol' bin, Goes down in de gloomerin' meadows, Whar de long night rain begin, So He let down de ba's of de sheepfol', Callin' sof ', ' Come in, come in.' Callin' sof, ' Come in, come in.' Den up t'ro de gloomerin' meadows, T'ro de col' night rain and win', And up t'ro de gloomerin' rain-paf, Whar de sleet fa' pie'cin' thin, De po' los' sheep of de sheepfol', Dey all comes gadderin' in ; De po' los' sheep ob de sheepfol', Dey all comes gadderin' in. 88. Into the East. Into the dusk of the East, Grey with the coming of night, This we may know at least — After the night comes light ! Over the mariners' graves, Grim in the depths below, Buoyantly breasting the waves, Into the East we go. *■ 9 8 3(nto tf>e (Eaat On to a distant strand, Wonderful, far, unseen, On to a stranger land, Skimming the seas between ; On through the days and nights, Hope in each sailor's breast, On till the harbour lights Flash on the shores of rest ! 89. At Peace. She is wayworn, she is weary, She hath journeyed long and far, In the dawning, and at noonday, And beneath the evening star. She hath carried heavy burdens j She hath borne another's load ; She hath shared her herbs and lentils With those fainting on the road. Take her scrip, and loose her sandals j Bring cool water for her feet ; Lave her tired limbs, and fold them In fair linen fresh and sweet. 99 Sumnag afternoon Wlmzs Part the soft hair on her forehead ; Lightly touch the drifted snow, That was like the golden sunshine In rare summers long ago. Whisper softly, for she sleepeth ! Lay her pale hands on her breast, Do not wake her ! Lift her gently, Lest you break this perfect rest. Bear her to the upper chamber, Let the sound of weeping cease, For it looketh toward the sunrise, And the chamber's name is — Peace. 90. The Things that last. Yesternight, where the smoke was thick, I sat silent and heard the brawl — * Chamberlain/ ' Morley,' ' Harcourt out,' Till I grew weary, and, sick of all, Went out to watch the darkening even, Sought the touch of the airs of Heaven. Half a mile on, a sudden song, Mounting above in a girl's sweet breath, 100 ■* 3T?>e 3Ti>in0j3 t|>at last Brought me to pause, and I caught the words, 'Victory, Victory, over Death,' From a little chapel so deep in green, The Psalm was heard ere the place was seen. These be the things that last, I said. Shadows we are that shadows pursue, Triumph and weep over vanities, Strut and fret and make much ado. Verily, Christ, as He did say, Is with two or three who meet to pray. So while the people sang and prayed, These be the things that endure, I said. 91. Mary at the Grave. O the anguish of Mary ! The depth of despair ! When she came to the tomb And the Lord was not there ; As she desolate stood With her balm and her myrrh, And His winding-sheet only Was waiting for her ! 101 ©imnaE afternoon aterae* *■ O the blackness of death ! O life's utter despair ! Had she come to the tomb And the Lord had been there, Lying wrapt in the sheet With the balm and the myrrh, And no risen Redeemer Had waited for her ! 92. Voices. Down in the night I hear them : The voices — unknown — unguessed — That whisper, and lisp, and murmur, And will not let me rest. Voices that seem to question, In unknown words, of me, Of fabulous ventures, and hopes and dreams Of this and the world to be. Voices of mirth and music, As in sumptuous homes ; and sounds Of mourning, as of gathering friends In country burial-grounds. 102 ■* Voices Cadence of maiden voices — Their lovers' blent with these ; And of little children singing, As under orchard trees. And often, up from the chaos Of my deepest dreams, I hear Sounds of their phantom laughter Filling the atmosphere. * * * But ever and ever the meaning Falters and fails and dies, And only the silence quavers With the sorrow of my sighs. And I answer : O voices, ye may not Make me understand, Till my own voice, mingling with you, Laughs in Shadowland. 93. From Day to Day. From day to day. Take no thought for the morrow. Why hope or why remember, Or in the white December Run idly out to borrow The roses of the May ? 4< 4« 103 €>imua£ afternoon ©ewea From day to day. This moment is the lever With which to lift the mountain, And loose the prisoned fountain That flows and flows for ever, And quenches thirst for aye. From day to day. There is no wider measure, Bravely as you may will it. Striving you cannot fill it, So, life's immortal treasure Is hidden in the Day. 94. Coming Home. When all my lessons have been learned, And the last year at school is done, I shall put up my books and games : 'Good-bye, my fellows, every one !' The dusty road will not seem long, Nor twilight lonely, nor forlorn The everlasting whip-poor-wills That lead me back where I was born. 104 Nomine $ome And there beside the open door, In a large country dim and cool, Her waiting smile shall hear at last, 1 Mother, I am come home from school.' 95. The Day's Work. Do thy day's work, my dear, Though fast and dark the clouds are drifting near, Though time has little left for hope and very much for fear. Do thy day's work, though now The hand must falter and the head must bow, And far above the failing foot shows the bold mountain brow. Yet there is left for us, Who on the valley's verge stand trembling thus, A light that lies far in the west — soft, faint, but luminous. We can give kindly speech And ready, helping hand to all and each, And patience to the young around by smiling silence teach. 105 * &unUag Afternoon &cxmz >i<' We can give gentle thought, And charity, by life's long lesson taught, And wisdom, from old faults lived down, by toil and failure wrought. We can give love, unmarred By selfish snatch of happiness, unjarred By the keen aims of power or joy that make youth cold and hard. And, if gay hearts reject The gifts we hold, would fain fare on un- checked On the bright roads that scarcely yield all that young eyes expect, Why, do thy day's work still. The calm, deep founts of love are slow to chill; And heaven may yet the harvest yield, the work-worn hands to fill. 96. All my Part. I lay me down to sleep, With little care Whether my waking find Me here or there. 106 311 mp ©art A bowing, burdened head That only asks to rest, Unquestioning, upon A loving breast. My good right hand forgets Its cunning now ; To march the weary march I know not how. I am not eager, bold, Nor strong — all that is past ; I am ready not to do, At last, at last. My half-day's work is done, And this is all my part — I give a patient God My patient heart, And grasp His banner still, Though all the blue be dim These stripes as well as stars Lead after Him. 107 n- SimUap afternoon Wiexfwg i 97. Not alone. The fire upon the hearth is low, And there is stillness everywhere ; Like troubled spirits, here and there The firelight shadows fluttering go. And as the shadows round me creep, A childish treble breaks the gloom, And softly from a farther room Comes : ' Now I lay me down to sleep.' And, somehow, with that little prayer And that sweet treble in my ears, My thought goes back to distant years And lingers with a dear one there ; And, as I hear the child's amen, My mother's faith comes back to me, Couched at her side I seem to be, And mother holds my hands again. O for an hour in that dear place ! O for the peace of that dear time ! O for that childish trust sublime ! O for a glimpse of mother's face ! 108 i!5ot alone Yet, as the shadows round me creep, I do not seem to be alone : Sweet magic of that treble tone- And ' now I lay me down to sleep.' 98. An Old Prayer. Jesu, Lord, that madest me, And with Thy blessed blood hast bought, Forgive that I have grieved Thee With word, with will, and eke with thought. Jesu, for Thy wounds' smart, On feet and on Thine hands two, Make me meek and low of heart, And Thee to love as I should do. Jesu, grant me mine asking, Perfect patience in my disease, And never may I do that thing That should Thee in anywise displease. Jesu, most comfort for to see Of Thy saints every one, Comfort them that careful be, And help them that be woe-begone. 109 "►>« Sunuap afternoon WLtxiseis Jesu, keep them that be good, And amend them that have grieved Thee, And send them fruits of early food, As each man needeth in his degree. Jesu, that art, without lies, Almighty God in Trinity, Cease these wars, and send us peace, With lasting love and charity. Jesu, that art the ghostly stone Of all holy Church in middle-earth, Bring Thy folds and flocks in one, And rule them rightly with one herd. Jesu, for Thy blissful blood, Bring, if Thou wilt, those souls to bliss From whom I have had any good, And spare that they have done amiss. 99. Forgive. If, coming from that unknown sphere Where I believe Thou art — The world unseen which girds our world So close, yet so apart, — JForcibc Thy soul's soft call unto my soul Electrical could reach, And mortal and immortal blend In one familiar speech, — What wouldst Thou say to me ? Wouldst ask What, since did me befall ? Or close this chasm of cruel years Between us — knowing all ? Wouldst love me — Thy pure eyes seeing that God only saw beside ? O love me ! 'Twas so hard to live, So easy to have died. ioo. The Forgotten Sermon. 'You remember the sermon you heard, my dear?' The little one blushed, and dropped her eyes, Then lifted them bravely, with look of cheer — Eyes that were blue as the summer skies. 1 1 'm afraid I forgot what the minister said, He said so much to the grown-up men. And the pulpit was 'way over my head ; But I told mamma that he said "Amen." Simnap afternoon QXmsze And "Amen," you know, means " Let it be,' Whatever our Lord may please to do, And that is sermon enough for me, If I mind and feel so, the whole week through.' I took the little one's word to heart ; I wish I could carry it all day long, The ' Amen ' spirit, which hides the art To meet each cross with a happy song. 101. True Love. I love you, my sweet children, who are gone Into another mansion ; but I know I love you not as I shall love you yet. I love you, sweet dead children; there are none In the land to which ye vanished to go, Whose hearts more truly on your hearts are set — Yet should I die of grief to love you only so. •* (gratitude 1 02. Gratitude. Dark skies must clear, and when the clouds are past, One golden day redeems a weary year ; Patient I listen, sure that sweet at last Will sound His voice of cheer. Then vex me not with chiding. Let me be. I must be glad and grateful to the end. I grudge you not your cold and darkness — me The powers of light befriend. 103. A Prayer in reading the Scripture. Grant me, Lord, in all my studies, Through all volumes roaming where I list, Whatsoever spacious distance Rise in ample grandeur through thought's mist, Whatsoever land I find me, That of right divine to claim for Christ. Do men dare to call Thy Scripture — Mystic forest, unillumined nook ? 113 ^trntiap Afternoon ©ersee If it be so, O my spirit ! Then let Christ arise on thee, and look With the long lane of His sunlight Shall be cut the forest of His Book. 104. The Rainbow. Through gloom and shadow look we On beyond the years j The soul would have no rainbow Had the eyes no tears. 105. Unexacting. Take courage ! peace at last and joy attend The true-fixed heart that mocks Time's envious power ; The heart that, tender even to the end, Exacts not joy from any hour, Nor love from any friend. 106, Dame Sorrow. Go not forth to call Dame Sorrow From the dim fields of To-morrow ; % 114 Dame §orroto Let her roam there all unheeded, She will come when she is needed ; Then, when she draws near thy door, She will find God there before. 107. The ' / Am: Once there came a sinful woman, Eyes with weeping dim — ' I am not,' her heart was saying- She had looked on Him. He beheld her broken-hearted, Ruined and undone, Yet enthroned among the angels Brighter than the sun. All the while in dust before Him Did her heart adore, ' I am not, but Thou art only, Thou art evermore ' For His heart to hers had spoken, To His wandering lamb, In the speech of Love Eternal He had said, ' I AM. "5 Suntiap afternoon Wizwz Now she thirsts no more for ever, All she would is given, None on earth hath she beside Him, None beside in heaven. 1 08. If ye love Me. That was a narrow street Where trod Thy blessed feet ; And that a noisy throng That followed Thee along ; And many a one was such We scarce would deign to touch j But Thou wast pressed upon by the unfolded sheep, And very close to them Thy place didst keep. And it is thus Thou sayest to us : ' Oh, if ye love Me, feed My sheep ! ' That was a toilsome way, And that a sultry day, When Thou didst, by the well Of living water tell, And kindly speak to one, As if that one alone, 116 If n lobe i&e The straying one, of all the world had need most deep, And Thou no thought but to reclaim Thy sheep. And it is thus Thou sayest to us : 1 Oh, if ye love Me, feed My sheep ! ' That was a loveless word Which, by strange spirit stirred, Forbade the children grace To see Thy shining face ; But Thou didst call them near, And smile away their fear ; , And one such little one the symbol seemed to Thee Of Thy great heavenly kingdom yet to be ! And it is thus Thou sayest to us : 1 Oh, feed My lambs, if ye love Me ! ' That was a green hill-side, By Galilee's soft tide ; And sweet the garden's shade By ancient olives made. 4< 4< 117 * &imtiap afternoon Merges We often follow there Thy words of life to share ; But oh, the multitude of Thine untended sheep ! Speaks there a voice within our spirit's deep, Thy voice to us, And speaks it thus, 1 Oh, if ye love Me, feed My sheep !' 109. Unaware. Some day, when falls a sudden sense Of perfect peace on heart and brain, That comes, we know not why or whence, And ere we seek is gone again j When breathes the unexpectant hour Strange beauty of an instant blown, As if a rose were full in flower Whose earliest buds we knew not grown Perchance, one winged moment sped Down the white heights of heavenly air, Some spirit of our blessed dead Hath stood beside us unaware ! 118 &i)e ^info's Smile no. The Child's Smile. Death came along one day And asked his pay : The life of a child. In this world, right and left, Parents are thus bereft. The child but smiled. Shall we, too, smile, And after a while Be reconciled ? in. Two Friends. Smile farewell to Sorrow ; Give to Joy good-morrow, And charge him to continue A quiet reign within you. Smile farewell to Gladness, Take the hand of Sadness, And wistfully beseech her To be your tender teacher. E« ► 119 &imUay Afternoon WLzms So shall both befriend you, And to the grave attend you ; There Sorrow from you sever ; Joy go with you ever. 112. The Bravest of the Brave. And who the bravest of the brave ; The bravest hero ever born ? 'Twas one who dared a felon's grave, Who dared to breathe the scorn of scorn. Nay, more than this : when sword was drawn, And vengeance waited for His word, He looked with pitying eyes upon The scene, and said, ' Put up thy sword.' O God ! could man be found to-day As brave to do, as brave to say ? ' Put up thy sword into its sheath,' Put up thy sword, put up thy sword ! By Kedron's brook thus spoke beneath The olive-trees our valiant Lord, Spoke calm and kinglike. Sword and stave And torch and stormy men of death 120 4<- 2Tf>e iSrategt of tyz 3Srabe Made clamour. Yet He spake not save With loving word and patient brea h The peaceful olive boughs beneath, 'Put up thy sword within its sheath.' 113. Chosen. Lord, the most Fair, the most tender, My heart is adrift and alone ; My heart is aweary and thirsty, Athirst for a joy unknown. From a child I followed it, chased it, By wilderness, wold, and hill ; 1 never have reached it or seen it, Yet must I follow it still. In those olden years did I seek it, In the sweet, fair things around ; But the more I sought and I thirsted, The less, O my Lord, I found. When nearest it seemed to my grasping, It fled like a wandering thought ; I never have known what it is, Lord, Too well know I what it is not. 121 ■* Simtiap Afternoon WLzxwti *■ 1 It is I, it is I, the Eternal, Who chose thee Mine own to be — Who chose thee before the ages, Who chose thee eternally. I stood in the way before thee, In the ways thou wouldest have gone j For this is the mark of My chosen, That they shall be Mine alone.' 114. Life and Rest. Love came at dawn, when all the world was fair, When crimson glories, bloom and song were rife ; Love came at dawn, when hope's wings fanned the air, And murmured, ' I am life.' Love came at even, when the day was done, When heart and brain were tired, and slumber pressed ; Love came at eve, shut out the sinking sun, And whispered, ' I am rest.' 122 Wqz ifteagurelejw Hote 115. The Measureless Love. The heart panteth after the waters, The dying for life that departs — The Lord in His glory for sinners, For the love of rebellious hearts. Call back all the days of the ages, All snow-flakes come down from above, All flowers of summers departed, But think not to measure His love. Behold Him, O soul, where He told it, Pale, bleeding, and bearing thy sin ; He knocketh, saith, ' Open, beloved, I pray thee to let Me come in. Behold I have borne all the judgment, Thy sins, O beloved, are gone ; Forgotten, forgotten for ever, God seeketh, but findeth not one. Behold with what labour I won thee, Behold in My hands and My feet, The tale of My measureless sorrow — Of love that made sorrow so sweet. 123 *- ^untiap afternoon Merges A flax-thread in oceans of fire, How soon swallowed up would it be ! Yet sooner in oceans of mercy, The sinner that cometh to Me/ 1 1 6. Did we meet. If while this dizzy whirl of life A moment pausing stayed, I face to face with thee could stand, I would not be afraid : Not though from heaven to heaven thy feet In glad ascent have trod, While mine took through earth's miry ways Their solitary road. We could not lose each other. World On world piled ever higher Would part like banked clouds, lightning- cleft By our two souls' desire. Life ne'er divided us ; death tried, But could not ; love's voice fine Called luring through the dark — then ceased, And I am wholly thine. 124 wt)t torn qtxutt) 117. The One Truth. Hast thou buried thy dead, sought the jewels 'midst shingle and stones, And learnt how the lost is the found, and the found is the lost ? Or stood with clear eyes upturned placid 'twixt sorrow and mirth, As asking deep questions that cannot be answered on earth ? — I know not. Who knoweth ? Our own souls we scarcely do know, And none knows his brother's. Who judges, contemns, or bewails, Or mocketh, or praiseth? In this world's strange vanishing show, The one truth is Loving. O lister, the dark cloud that veils All life, lets this rift through to glorify future and past. ' Love ever — love only — love faithfully — love to the last.' *■ 25 ^untiap Afternoon tBLzxBZB I 1 1 8. The Light that failed. My mother's prayer, whene'er at even She lit or quenched a household light — ' Grant us, O Lord, the light of Heaven, And guard us through the night.' The prayer my mother used to pray — I breathe it from a tired, faint heart, For one light quenched upon my way, Of my joy chiefest part. O God, in loneliness and fear Remembered — other time forgot ! O Heaven, a vision sweet and dear, When earth delighteth not ! Lord, let me, for my truth forgiven, And for Thy mercy's sake prevailed, Pray — ere I see the light of Heaven — Re-light the light that failed ! 119. Glory to the Lord of Glory. Glory to the Lord of Glory for His saints at rest above, Where the sky of heaven o'erarches heaven's great Paradise of love ; 126 ®Iorp to ti)e JLorti of ®lorp There the Blessed reign and serve Him, praise Him all the eternal day, Him beholding in His beauty in the Country far away. Glory to the Lord of Glory for the virtues of His grace Working still through tribulation in His scattered pilgrim race ; For the faith of hearts unnumbered, now de- riving, hour on hour, From His death and exaltation endless wealth of peace and power. Praise to Him for all who trust Him through the night of toil and loss, All who live themselves denying, carrying every day the cross, All the great Vine's genial branches, rich and living in their Root, Bearing in the alien desert heavenly Eden's clustered fruit. Praise to Thee for acts and sufferings ; for the conquests of the strong, Youthful ardour, veteran courage, marching forward far and long \ :27 Suntiap afternoon ©ewes Praise to Thee in all for all things ; Thou art working all in all ; Filled with Thee the faint are mighty, void of Thee the mighty fall. All the grace of all Thy people, all their triumph in the strife, — 'Tis but Thou, Redeemer, in them, moving in Thy glorious life : Sing we, till our praises mingle with the song before the Throne, Glory to the Lord of Glory for Himself in men made known. 1 20. This wretched Inn. This wretched Inn, where we scarce stay to bait, We call our Dwelling-place : We call one Step a Race ; But angels in their full enlightened state, Angels, who Live, and know what 'tis to Be, Who all the nonsense of our language see, Who speak Things, and our Words, their ill- drawn Pictures, scorn, 128 TO)3 toretcJjen 3fnn When we, by a foolish figure, say, ' Behold an old man dead !' then they Speak properly, and cry, * Behold a man-child born!' 121. Magdalen at the Gate. Magdalen at Michael's gate Tirled at the pin ; On Joseph's thorn sang the blackbird, ' Let her in, let her in !' ' Thou bringest no offering,' said Michael, 'Nought save sin'; Sang the blackbird, ' She is sorry, sorry, sorry; Let her in, let her in!' ' Hast thou seen the wounds ?' said Michael 1 Knowest thou thy sin ?' 'She knows it well, well, well,' sang the blackbird ; ' Let her in, let her in !' When he had sung himself to sleep, And night did begin, One came and opened Michael's gate, And Magdalen went in. 129 ^trntiap afternoon ft ewes 122. Christ at Nazareth. Did angels hover o'er His head What time, as Holy Scripture saith, Subject and dutiful He led His boyhood's life at Nazareth ? Was there an aureole round His hair, A mystic symbol and a sign, To prove to every dweller there, Who saw Him, that He was divine ? Did He in childish joyance sweet, Join other children in their play, And with soft salutation greet All who had passed Him in the way ? Did He within the Rabbi's schools Say ■ Aleph,' 'Beth,' and 'Gimel' mid The Jewish lads, or use the tools At Joseph's bench as Joseph did ? And sometimes would He lay His head, When tired, on Mary's tender breast, And share the meal her hand had spread, And in her mother-love find rest ? iT < i l l 130 eT|>ri0t at tfSajaretj) We marvel — but we only know That holy, harmless, undented, In wisdom, as in stature, so He grew as any mortal child. All power, all glory hid away In depths of such humility, That thenceforth none might ever say They had a lowlier lot than He ! And since the child of Nazareth Set on it thus His seal and sign, Who — till man's sin hath marred it — saith That childhood is not still divine ! 123. Love's very House. O thou that walkest with nigh hopeless feet Past the one harbour, built for thee and thine, Doth no stray odour from its table greet, No truant beam from fire or candle shine ? At his wide door the host doth stand and call ; At every lattice gracious forms invite ; Thou seest but a dull-grey, solid wall In forest sullen with the things of night ! 131 Simtiap afternoon ©eraeia Thou cravest rest, and Rest for thee doth crave, The white sheet folded down, white robe apart. — Shame, Faithless ! No, I do not mean the grave ! I mean Love's very house and hearth and heart. 124. Christ in the Wintry Street. I met Him to-day in the wintry street, The Christ on the cross Who died, All hungered and cold in the wind and sleet, With bleeding forehead and hands and feet, And I blindly thrust Him aside. Had He only come with the crown of thorn, Or the nail-prints ruby-red, Had the palms that pleaded for alms but worn Their wounds, I had not put by in scorn His piteous plea for bread. But idly now and all in vain I grieve for the grace gone by, And muse, ' Might He only come again, I 'd pity His plea and ease His pain And hearken unto His cry.' [32 eTfmst in tf>e WLinttv Street Nay, nay, for the blind distinguisheth The king with his robe and crown ; But only the humble eye of faith Beholdeth Jesus of Nazareth In the beggar's tattered gown. I saw Him not in the mendicant And I heeded not His cry ; Now Christ in His infinite mercy grant That the prayer I say in my day of want, Be not in scorn put by. 125. A Song of Trust. With a true heart upheaving My small load, As thou appointest, Lord, so let me bear The duty-burden trusted to my care. And though my face should all be wet With toilsome sweat ; Show Thou the road — Enough ! no grieving ! But now, my heart, be careful Lest thou care ! The Lord doth give me daily bread for nought, And for the morrow doth Himself take thought. *■ 133 &imUap afternoon WLmtfs Then let me serve Him, on my part, With all my heart, And wait my share With spirit prayerful. Ah, Lord ! now add Thy blessing To all I do ! And let Thy grace and help my work attend, From the beginning even to the end. Let each day's burden teach my eyes, My heart, to rise — Thy rest pursue — Thy peace possessing ! 126. Patience. Patience, O mortal, patience yet a while ! What though the petty pessimist still prates Of dolor and of death ? joy yet shall come To him who waits. Though wrecks strew all the main, ships yet shall sail Safe over seas, weighed down with golden freights 134 patience That shall make glad again the sad hurt heart Of him who waits. Though fierce the fight that want and sorrow wage With man upon life's battle-field, yet fate's Grim visage softens, and she smiles at last On him who waits. Patience, O mortal, patience yet a while ! How long soe'er thy evils here, the gates Of glory do but wait to open wide For him who waits. 127. The Victory. Yet over sorrow and over death Cometh at last a song that saith — 1 This, this is the victory, Even our faith.' Love maketh all the crooked straight, And love bringeth love to all that wait, And laughter and light and dewy tear To the hard, blind eyes of Fate. All shall look tenderly yet and free Outside over the lea, And deep within the heart of me. *■ i3S ^uttDap afternoon ©er0e0 128. The Holy Gate. When we know that home is near, And filled with inmates dear, Home thoughts are hanging on each tree, And people the dim vacancy. Did we thus feel at our side The Friend who for us died, The world with love would clothed be, And wear a glad philosophy. Prayer is the holy gate To the chamber of Thy state, Which nearer and more near to Thee Doth lead us — everlastingly. 129. After. After the shower the tranquil sun ; After the snow the emerald leaves ; Silver stars when the day is done ; After the harvest golden sheaves ; After the burden blissful meed ; After the flight, the downy nest ; After the furrow, the waking seed ; After the shadowy river — rest. *" 136 %ty iftajarene 130. The Nazarene. The copyist group was gathered round A time-worn fresco, world-renowned, Whose central glory once had been The face of Christ, the Nazarene. And every copyist of the crowd With his own soul that face endowed, Gentle, severe, majestic, mean ; But which was Christ, the Nazarene ? Then one who watched them made complaint, And marvelled, saying, * Wherefore paint Till ye be sure your eyes have seen The face of Christ, the Nazarene ? ' 131. The Christ Life. ■ To me to live is Christ ' — and yet the days Are days of toiling men ; We rise at morn, and tread the beaten ways And lay us down again. How is it that this base, unsightly life, Can yet be Christ alone ? Our common need, and weariness, and strife While common days wear on ? i37 4 £>untiap Afternoon fliers Then saw I how before a Master wise A shapeless stone was set ; He said, ( Therein a form of beauty lies, Though none behold it yet. When all beside it shall be hewn away, That glorious shape shall stand, In beauty of the everlasting day, Of the unsullied land.' 132. Love sees. Blind souls, who say that Love is blind He only sees aright ; His only are the eyes that find The spirit's central light. He lifts — while others grope and pry — His gaze serene and far ; And they but see a waste of sky Where Love can see the Star. 133. How did you rest last Night? 1 How did you rest last night?' — I 've heard my gran'pap say 138 $oto tiit) poti rest last il9ic|)t? Them words a thousand times — that's right— Jes them words thataway ! As punctchul-like as morning dast To ever heave in sight Gran'pap 'ud alius haf to ast — ' How did you rest last night ?' Us young uns used to grin, At breakfast, on the sly, And mock the wobble of his chin And eyebrows helt so high And kind : ■ How did you rest last night ?' We 'd mumble and let on : Our voices trimbled, and our sight Was dim, and hearin' gone. Bad as I used to be, All I 'm a-wantin' is As puore and ca'm a sleep fer me And sweet a sleep as his ! And so I pray, on Jedgment Day To wake, and with its light See his face dawn, and hear him say- * How did you rest last night?' 139 ■* &imtiap afternoon (Herges 134. Apprehended of Christ. Let me no more my comfort draw From my frail hold of Thee ; In this alone rejoice with awe, — Thy mighty grasp of me. Thy purpose of eternal good Let me but surely know ; On this I '11 lean, let changing mood And feeling come and go : Glad when Thy sunshine fills my soul, Nor lorn when clouds o'ercast, Since Thou within Thy sure control Of love dost hold me fast. 135- Catching the Sunlight. She stooped to catch the sunlight As it shone upon the floor ; In her dimpled hands she grasped it, Reached and strove for more and more. But the sunbeam would not linger In that chubby little hand, Though it lay upon each finger Like a bright and golden band. >I 140 £atc!>in0 t?>e $imlicf)t Still, the striving gave her pleasure, And the light yet lingering lies, In most fair and gladsome measure, In the depths of her blue eyes. As life's sun mounts ever higher, Sending forth its golden beams O'er the strange and untried future Of her hopes and fears and dreams, May she still seek all the sunlight ; It will not be labour lost, For the joy that comes in seeking Ever more than meets the cost. 136. The Better Day. All trouble and anguish, loss and pain, When they 've done their task appointed, Vanish and fade ; it is joy that lasts. The seer, with vision anointed, Beholds the flush of a rising dawn, Though the midnight skies are gray. Patience, poor soul, with the present pain — There cometh a better day. 14] ^untiap Afternoon (Kersey 137. The Well is 4 The Well is deep.' Thy saying is most true : Salvation's well is deep, Only Christ's hand can reach the waters blue. And even He must stoop to draw it up, Ere He can fill thy cup. 138. Never again. ' There is a nest of thrushes in the glen ; When we come back we'll see the glad young things,' He said. We came not by that way again, And Time and thrushes fare on eager wings ! 'Yon rose' — she smiled — 'but no, when we return. I'll pluck it then.' 'Twas on a summer day. The ashes of the rose in Autumn's urn Lie hidden well. We came not back that way. 142 /5ctcr again We do not pass the selfsame way again, Or, passing by that way, nothing we find As it before had been ; but death, or stain, Hath come upon it, or the wasteful wind. The very earth is envious, and her arms Reach for the beauty that detained our eyes; Yea, it is lost, beyond the aid of charms, If, once within our grasp, we leave the prize. Thou traveller to the unknown Ocean's brink, Through Life's fair fields, say not, 'Another day This joy I '11 prove ': for never, as I think, Never shall we come back this selfsame way ! 139. The Plow. The dark-brown mould 's upturned By the sharp-pointed plow — And I 've a lesson learned. My life is but a field, Stretched out beneath God's sky Some harvest rich to yield. *■ 143 gimlrap afternoon tBLztmis 4* Where grows the golden grain ? Where faith ? Where sympathy ? In a furrow cut by pain. 140. The Other Side. Even for the dead I will not bind My soul to grief; death cannot long divide, For is it not as if the rose that climbed My garden-wall had bloomed the other side? 141. Christmas Eve. — Scandinavian Legend. Christ was born upon this Night j Mistress, spin no more ; Master, seven good candles light ; The Dead are at the door. He, that with his ship was lost, Happed in the salt sod ; She, that at white Pentecost Left us for her God. 144 eT£ri0tma0 ©be One that went long time ago ; One for bridal clad ; One with golden locks a-flow, Just a little lad. Master, the long grave is sweet By the old sea-wall ; Mistress, they that part shall meet — Christ was born for all. Spread the cloth as white as snow ; Sprigs of rosemary set ; That the blessed dead may know We remember yet. Pour the wine and break the bread ; Put green boughs about ; We, too, be remembered When our day is out ! 142. The Birth of Jesus Christ. Did you hear a little bird, a little bird a-singing; Did you hear a little bird in the very early morn? K 145 Stmtiap afternoon WLzxmts Did you hear the merry bells, the merry bells a-ringing, To tell us all the glad good news that Jesus Christ is bom? It is a strange and wondrous tale, a marvellous old story, It happened in the distant time, the far-off 'long ago'; To us there came the King of kings, the Lord of life and glory, A helpless babe — a little child — a weary man of woe. A little child ! A maiden fair her watch beside Him keeping ! And angels wondered as they gazed, and shook their starry wings ; They saw their Lord before them — He, an infant calmly sleeping — O love of God, surpassing all mysterious hidden things ! Then praise we now our Father, God, with all our life's endeavour ; His loving Christ hath borne the cross, that we may wear the crown, 146 * 3T$e 93irtf> of 3fe0us €t>mt From death to life our souls may rise to dwell with Him for ever ; For this He left His throne, and Maid His regal honours down.' Listen to the little bird, the little bird a-singing, The mystic bird that sings at eve and very early morn ; She singeth in our heart of hearts — Christmas bells are ringing ; And so we know the good glad news that Jesus Christ is born ! 143. Good-bye. It is over now, she is gone to rest ; I have clasped the hands on the quiet breast ; Draw back the curtain, let in the light, She will never shrink if it be too bright. We were two in here but an hour gone by, No streak was then in the midnight sky ; Now I am one to watch the day Come glimmering up from the far-away. 147 ■* &untiap afternoon Wiztam What will he say when he comes in, Waked by the city's morning din, Hoping to find and fearing to know The sorrow he left but an hour ago ? What will he say who has watched so long, When he shall find who has come and gone ? Come a watcher that will not bide Love's morning or noon or eventide. He thought to kiss her by morning gray, But God has thought to take her away. What will he say ? God knows, not I ; 1 Good-night,' he said, but never ' good-bye.' 144. Where to find God. Why seek ye for Jehovah Mid Sinai's awful smoke ? The burning bush now shelters A sparrow's humble folk ; The curve of God's sweet heaven Is the curve of the leaf of oak ; The Voice that stilled the tempest To the little children spoke, — The bread of life eternal Is the bread He blessed and broke. 4< 4< 148 Hife'js He00on0 leameti 145. Life's Lessons learned. ' When school is out, I shall go home/ she said, 1 And all my heartache will be comforted.' 'When school is out,' she said, ' once more I'll rest My tired head upon my mother's breast, And feel her tender cheek against it pressed, And there, at last, I shall find perfect rest.' ' When school is out,' she said, ■ I know I '11 meet — Dancing for joy along the golden street — My little child, my babe so stainless sweet, Who went to heaven before his dimpled feet Had ever learned in earthly paths to go, Nor pressed the violets, nor trod the snow ! Oh I will clasp him close, and I shall know Those kisses that I taught him long ago ! ' ' Life's weary lessons are all learned,' she said, 'And school is out.' We bent — and she was dead. ^ A 149 ^untiap afternoon Stewra 146. The Service of Waiting. I ran at His commands,' And sang for joy of heart ; With willing feet and hands I wrought my earnest part. And this my daily cry : ' Dear Master, here am I ! ' Then came this word one day — I shrank as from a rod, To hear that dear voice say : * Lie still, my child, for God. As out from labour sweet He called me to His feet. Called me to count the hours Of many a weary night, To bear the pain that dowers The soul with heavenly might ; But still my daily cry : c Dear Master, here am I ! ' His will can only bring The choicest good to me, 150 tE|>e lettuce of Waiting So ne'er did angel wing Its flight more joyously Than I, His child, obey, And wait from day to day. The humble offering Of quiet folded hands, Costly with suffering He only understands, To God, more dear may be Than eager energy. And He is here, my Song, That I may learn of Him. What though the days are long, What though the way is dim ? 'Tis He who says, ' Lie stiL And I adore His will. *■ 147. A Little Parable. I made the cross myself whose weight Was later laid on me. This thought is torture as I toil Up life's steep Calvary. 151 ^unUag afternoon flJewea To think mine own hands drove the nails ! I sang a merry song, And chose the heaviest wood I had To build it firm and strong. If I had guessed — if I had dreamed Its weight was meant for me, I should have made a lighter cross To bear up Calvary. 148. Another Gathering there. Oh, shoutin's mighty sweet When yer shout when yer meet, An' shek han's roun', an' say : 1 Bless God fur de meetin' ! Bless God fur de greetin' ! ' Shoutin' comes mighty easy dat a-way. But ter shout when yer part, An' ter shout f om yo' heart, When yer gwine far away, far away, Wid a-lettin' go han's An' a-facin' strange lan's, Shoutin' comes mighty hard sech a day. ' Glory ' sticks in yo' th'oat At de whistle o' de boat, *■ 152 another <$at£erine t|>erc I Dat cuts lak a knife thoo yo' heart ; An' * Hallelujah ' breaks At de raisin' o' de stakes Dat loosens up de ropes ter let 'er start. But ef yer fix yo' eye On de writin' in de sky, Whar de * good-byes ' is all strucken out, An' read de promus clair Of another geth'rin' there, You kin say far'well, my brothers, with a shout. Den shout, brothers, shout ! Oh, tell yo' vict'ry out, How neither death nur partin' kin undo yer. Look fust at yo' loss, But last at de cross, Singin' glory, glory, glory hallelujah ! 149. A Change. Parting the dusky draperies of sleep, My sorrow stood a vision with calm eyes, Not robed in her remembered mournful guise, Not pallid as from tears she could not weep, But fair, exceeding wise. 1 i53 ^unuap afternoon ©eraea ' What change is here ? ' I marvelled, and she drew Closer with quiet step to my dim bed. Her hand was like a sunbeam on my head, Weightless and warm; her kiss was pure as dew. 1 Call me thy friend ' she said. 150. The Christ Child. This baby's Face is as the sun Upon the dimness of our way ! This child's Arm ours to lean upon When mortal strength and hope decay. Our path, erewhile so desolate, His dear beatitudes adorn ; Earth is a heavenward-opening gate, Since unto us this Child is born. Born unto us, who vainly seek The fair ideal of our dreams Among its mockeries, blurred and weak : He crowns the manhood He redeems. 4 154 %l>z C&rtet erjilti To us, who trust that men will grow Grander than thought or guess of ours, When this pure Life through theirs shall flow, This Health divine stir all their powers. 151. The Speech of Love. Love saith to me, ' Repent ' j Love saith to me, ■ Believe ' ; Love sayeth ofttimes, ' Grieve That thou hast little lent, That thou hast little given, To Him, thy Lord in Heaven, And when He cometh what wilt Thou receive ? Love sayeth to me, ( Pray That thou mayst meet that day Desired yet feared ' ; and ofttimes Love again Repeats these words, and oh ! my spirit then, What sayest thou ? ' I say To all Love sayeth, Yea, Yea, evermore, and evermore Amen ! ' * 155 ^untrap afternoon WLtxzzz 152. Refreshment. When daylight fades, and night returns, Bringing to weary hearts repose, How sweet to lay the head at rest, And the tired eyelids close ; Cast off the garments of the day, And let the earth-stains fade away ; And wake refreshed with quiet sleep, When morning's light breaks o'er the deep ! So let it be when death is near, Bringing to weary hearts release. How sweet to lay the head at rest, When angels whisper, 'Peace'; Cast off the garments of the clay, And let the earth-stains fade away ; And wake refreshed from that last sleep, Like childhood from its slumbers deep ! Printed by T. and A. Constable, Printers to Her Majesty at the Edinburgh University Press 156 The Devotional Library Handsomely printed and bound, price 3*. 6d. eack, cloth. 1. THE KEY OF THE GRAVE. A Book for the Bereaved. By W. Robertson Nicoll, M.A., LL.D. Fourth Edition. ' Dr. Robertson Nicoll has produced a unique, exquisite, and most edifying book. We are much impressed by the delicate and profound spiritual insight manifested on every page of this beautiful little volume. Many a familiar passage in the Bible shines with a new, unexpected, and immortal light. It is difficult to know what to quote from a volume so full of delightful and memorable passages. It is pre-eminently a book to put into the hands of the refined, sensitive, scholarly, and devout, when they feel the awful pressure of the greatest bereavement.' —Methodist Times. 2. MEMORANDA SACRA. By Professor J. Rendel Harris, M.A., Fellow of Clare College, Cambridge. Third Edition. ' Two gifts, both of the very highest, are marvellously united in Pro- fessor Rendel Harris, and here we have the ripe fruits of one, in most delicious flavour and most wholesome nourishment. It is not possible to review such a book as this. Words about it do not tell us what it is. Nor will a selection of words from it half convey its incommunicable fragrance.' — Expository Times. THE GENERAL GORDON EDITION 3. CHRIST MYSTICAL. By Joseph Hall, D.D., Bishop of Norwich. Reprinted, with General Gordon's marks, from the Original Copy used by him, and with an Introduction on his Theology by the Rev. H. Carruthers Wilson, M.A. ' Hall's treatise is in itself an excellent example of the best kind of devotional literature, and it will contribute to its appreciation by the modern reader that its sacred teachings and appeals formed part of the spiritual nourishment of the English 19th-century hero and saint,' — Christian World. 4. RUYSBROECK AND THE MYSTICS. With selec- tions from Ruysbroeck. By Maurice Maeterlinck. Authorised Translation by Jane T. Stoddart. 1 It does much to make intelligible and attractive a powerful religious thinker, from whom most readers would turn aside on account of the perplexities and vagueness of his manner.'— Scotsman. London : HODDER & STOUGHTON, 27 Paternoster Row, Little Books on Religion EDITED BY THE REV. W. ROBERTSON NICOLL, M.A., LL.D. Cloth Elegant, is. 6d. t. CHRIST AND THE FUTURE LIFE. By R. W. Dale, D.D., LL.D. 2. THE SEVEN WORDS FROM THE CROSS. By the Rev. W. Robertson Nicoll, M.A., LL.D. 3. THE VISIONS OF A PROPHET. Studies in Zechariah. By the Rev. Professor Marcus Dods, D.D. 4. THE FOUR TEMPERAMENTS. By the Rev. Alexander Whyte, D.D. 5. THE UPPER ROOM. By the Rev. John Watson, M.A., D.D. (Ian Maclaren.) 6. THE UNITY AND SYMMETRY OF THE BIBLE. By the Rev. Professor J. Munro Gibson, M. A., D.D. London : HODDER & STOUGHTON, 27 Paternoster Row. Little Books on Religion {continued) 7. GOSPEL QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS. By the Rev. James Denney, D.D. 8. WHY BE A CHRISTIAN? By the Rev. Professor Marcus Dods, D.D. 9. FOUR PSALMS. By the Rev. Professor G. A. Smith, D.D. 10. THE HOLY FATHER AND THE LIVING CHRIST. By the Rev. P. T. Forsyth, D.D. 11. FROM STRENGTH TO STRENGTH. By the Rev. J. H. Jowett, M.A., of Carr's Lane Chapel, Birmingham. 12. A New Volume By the Rev. Hugh Black, M.A., of Edinburgh. Londo »j : HODDER & STOUGHTON, 27 Paternoster Row ? H WORKS BY THE Rev. John Watson, d.d. Crown 8vo. Cloth. 35. 6d. THE POTTER'S WHEEL. Crown 8vo, gilt top. 6s. THE MIND OF THE MASTER. {Fifteenth Thousand) ( ' These studies deserve the wide circulation attained by his sketches of Scottish character, for wherever read they will both enlarge and ennoble the religious thought of the Churches, and bring open-minded thinkers who are out- side Christianity to a truer appreciation of its elements.' — Rev. T. G. Selby in the British Weekly. Crown 8vo. 6s. THE CURE OF SOULS YALE LECTURES ON PRACTICAL THEOLOGY. 1 These are some of the brightest and liveliest lectures on pastoral work that we have ever read. 5 — Guardian. ' Dr. Watson's good sense, thorough earnestness, saving touch of humour, and wide experience, make him an admir- able guide o the young man who would fain come as near as may be .he conception of the ideal minister.' — Glasgow Herald. 1 There is not a dull page in the book, and everywhere it abounds in luminous instruction for preachers and pastors and congregations in these days of stir and change in the thought and life of the Churches.' — Manchester Guardian. London : HODDER & STOUGHTON, 27 Paternoster Row.