Part 3

With servile mind and sordid soul, He shall not miss the chosen goal; Though all the path with gold be paved, He cannot from himself be saved.

A ROYAL PRIESTHOOD.

To lift and lighten the heart of man, Was ever the Poet’s lofty plan;— Confederate with stars and sun, His songs their radiant courses run.

INSPIRATION.

Genius is only common dust, Unkindled by the Breath of Heaven;— Except God be their light and life, Vainly the richest gifts are given.

Dark as a row of silver lamps, Fair, all, as fancy’s fine desire, And furnished, each, with rarest oil, But all untouched with fire.

For noblest service, man’s first need Is inspiration from on high; The finite needs the Infinite, As flower and forest need the sky.

UNCONSCIOUS INFLUENCE.

Faint not, though fruitless still the labor seems Wherewith love serves the Master dear, divine; You do not know how far it throws its beams, The lamp which you keep burning at His shrine.

HOLD FAST THIS TRUTH.

Hold fast this truth, whoe’er thou art, And through all sorrow take it:— God did not make the human heart Simply that He might break it.

For not in vain love yearns for love;— Beyond the grave’s dark portal, In everlasting bliss above, Awaits the life immortal!

GLORIA IN EXCELSIS!

The infinitely High Is the infinitely Near,— And the infinitely Holy Is the infinitely Dear.

A single ray from heaven— And all is understood,— For the infinitely Great Is the infinitely Good.

A CONTRAST.

Stone by stone the palace grows, Haughtily, mid dust and din; On the garden wall the rose Drinks the quiet sunshine in.

Stone by stone the prison rears, Frowningly, its bars of night;— Like a bride with love’s sweet fears, Leans the lily to the light.

CROWNED!

With peaceful brow, and eyes beneath Disclosing memories, tender, dear, And hopes secure from earthly strife, She stands—good angels know how near To heaven,—crown’d with the harvest-wreath Of a fair, fruitful life:— A lovelier diadem, I ween, On seraph brow was never seen.

THE MEASURE.

From what a depth within the poet’s heart, The sorrow Dante weds to deathless Art! From what a height within the poet’s brain, The immortal notes of Shakespeare’s star-bright strain!

HUMILITY.

Naught is new beneath the sun: Ages since the deed was done;— Ay! a thousand wrought like one,— And a thousand thought like one. Greatest souls are first to own None is wise or strong alone.

ENTREATY.

O Lord of life and death! To whom all souls belong, Let not the thread be cut, While yet I weave my song.

Let not the workman’s form Be broken ere the time;— Oh shatter not, with “Dust to Dust,” The marble’s dream sublime!

AT LAST!

Faint not because so far away Seems, still, the world’s redemption day; Though deepest night the sky o’ercast, The glorious morn shall break at last.

For strife shall close in fadeless peace, And wrong and woe forever cease,— And end, in rapturous notes sublime, The whole long requiem of Time.

FORGIVE US, LORD!

Forgive us, Lord, our foolish fears; For, to Thy patient sway, A day is as a thousand years, And a thousand years as a day.

Thy will, O God, is sure alway;— This faith our darkness cheers:— Thine, equally, the flying day, And the march of a thousand years!

ASSURANCE.

Not where the Martyrs knelt, but where _we_ kneel, Is holy ground for us and ours;— Not what the Saints have felt, but what _we_ feel, With strength divine the fainting soul empowers.

Not what the Apostles held, but what _we_ hold, Makes radiant death’s dread mystery;— From _living_ faith, deep-welled, has onward rolled The widening stream of Christian history.

THE LITTLE ONES.

Heaven bless the little children! Their lives to earth are lent From some dear clime serener Than star-sown firmament.

The sunshine of God’s glory, Their happy spirits are;— Each soul, in His pure likeness, Refulgent as a star!

Their free, abundant beauty, (Love’s largess, manifold), They shed with lavish splendor On all that they behold.

Their joy the morning brightens,— And loveliest flowers are fair With radiance strangely tender, Which their sweet rapture share.

And holier still their mission,— And sweeter still their charm; Like angels they attend us, To guard our hearts from harm.

Their looks, so kind, confiding, Our fevered pulses calm,— And on the wounded spirit They pour their love like balm.

And ever they remind us Of our dear home on high, Beyond all sin and sorrow,— Eternal in the sky!

God bless the little children, Or here, or there above, The sunshine of His glory, The sweetness of His love.

LITTLE RUTH.

I cannot feel that she is gone So far, so far away; Her little heart close to my own Is beating day by day.

Ah! tender are these human ties;— May heaven at last reveal Why on her eyes a slumber lies E’en tears cannot unseal.

A look this darkness would displace With a divine delight; The soul’s rare grace in her fair face,— It was a blessed sight!

Her hair a happy halo wore, That lit the hearth and hall; Alas! no more my study door Heeds her confiding call.

Dear lips! where mirth and music wrote The lore in Eden sung; Seemed every note from her sweet throat By elf or angel strung.

The robin, hark! is here again, To woo the wondrous child; But all in vain his ardent strain,— Death may not be beguiled.

Sleep, Darling, sleep; we will not weep, Nor moan or murmur make; But oh! how deep the dreamless sleep,— Would God she might awake!

Asleep? awake! the Shepherd takes His little lamb above; And where she wakes the morning breaks In everlasting love.

But I cannot feel that she is gone So far, so far away; For her little heart close to my own Keeps beating day by day.

LITTLE THEODORE.

Lay them in his little hand;— He will know,—and understand.

Darling, shall we meet again, In a world that knows no sorrow? Where there shall be no more pain, And no parting comes to-morrow?

Precious gift! love’s priceless dower— Still our yearning hearts deplore thee, Marking many a lonely hour, Still, with tears, till Heaven restore thee.

Bright thy little life’s brief day, With the rose and lily number’d;— Waken, darling; rise and play;— Those sweet eyes too long have slumber’d.

Falling flower and fading spray, Tenderly thy kind look noted;— Did they beckon thee away, Dear, dear child, to death devoted?

Flowers will bloom where snow-flakes fall; Birds return;—but thou, oh, never! Comes no answer to my call;— Have I lost thee, Love, forever?

Hush, my heart,—it cannot be;— Lo! beyond the grave’s dark portal, Where thy dearest wait for thee, Breaks the morning, blest, immortal!

Darling _we shall meet again_, In the home that knows no sorrow,— Where there shall be no more pain, And no parting comes to-morrow.

WHERE THERE IS NO MORE PAIN.

The sharpest pang, the tenderest tear, Not yet are known to thee, Unless thy heart has learned how dear A little grave can be.

A little grave—but oh, how wide The room it left for grief! A grief which, like the ebbing tide, Returns without relief.

Dear child! by death made doubly dear,— God grant it may not be That thou in heaven should’st ever hear How much we mourn for thee.

One after one the seasons wane,— Our loss, it grows not less; Time’s balm is vain to heal the pain Of such a loneliness.

O little grave, that darkened so The path by Sorrow trod, Sometimes the sunset’s golden glow Rests on thy daisied sod;—

And then we feel that God is good, And we take heart again,— Assured 'twill all be understood Where there is no more pain.

Where there is no more pain—’tis there, ’Tis there we long to be! O Thou, who didst our sorrows bear, Bring us to dwell with Thee.

Where there is no more pain—how blest Love’s kingdom, fadeless, fair! That blissful rest naught shall molest,— _Death cannot enter there_.

THE EASTER ANSWER.

There is no light in sun or star, Nor any voice in wind or wave, To tell us where our loved ones are, And cheer our journey to the grave.

The wedding garment and the shroud, From the same texture, Nature weaves;— Alike to her are sky and cloud: She neither joys with us nor grieves.

Indifferent to life and death, She heedeth not our hopes or fears; Our days seem bounded by a breath;— Why should she note our smiles or tears.

From depths of sorrow manifold We call, and, weeping, wait reply;— No answer comes from wood or wold, And silent are the sea and sky.

O pitying Christ, to Thee we turn, In loneliest grief uncomforted; For Thee and Thy sure love we yearn, Light of the living and the dead!

Thou healest, Lord, the heart’s sore strife;— With Thee, with Thee our dearest dwell— Crowned, in Thy grace, O Prince of life, With peace and joy ineffable.

And ours, at last, the home above! We, too, from sin and sorrow free, Shall share that life of cloudless love For evermore with them and Thee.

COMMUNION.

Some meet memorial I would raise, O gracious God, to Thy kind care:— A fane for silent, unshared praise, A shrine for solitary prayer.

An altar in the wilderness, Known only to the stars above,— Whose grateful incense shall confess The comfort of Thy sheltering love.

Such monument my heart would rear, O blessed God, _my_ God! to Thee; Thy presence ever proving near, My Strength, my Song, eternally!

ST. AUGUSTINE.

O Thou my inmost life, my God! How blind the soul can be! Thou wert within, and I abroad, And there I searched for Thee.

A stranger to my own poor heart, A stranger, Lord, to Thee, I sought Thee, from Thyself apart, Throughout immensity.

In vain the weary, painful quest,— Still further did I stray From Thee, my being’s only rest,— Thyself the Truth, the Way.

I found Thee not, O sovereign Good! Though seeking Thee alone; I found Thee not,—nor understood Thy grace, Thy love unknown.

For Thou hast chosen, in Thy grace, As all who seek Thee find, To make Thy dearest dwelling-place The lowly, loving mind.

Close to the fountain of our tears Dost Thou set up Thy rest; And nearer than our doubts and fears Art Thou, the Heavenly Guest.

O child of sorrow and of pain! Know this, where’er thou art,— Thy long and lonely quest is vain;— Return into thy heart.

The Blessed Presence is enshrined Deep, deep within the breast;— Who seeks Thee there, O God, shall find The soul’s abiding rest.

BETHEL.

Not on couch of ivory, Cushioned, curtained, daintily,— But upon the flinty ground, The dread wilderness around, Jacob sleeps, afar, alone,— And his pillow is a stone! Ah! poor friendless fugitive, What can now thy birth-right give?

Pitiless the stars look down, Like his brother’s haunting frown;— In his heart are many fears,— In his eyes are bitter tears; Even in his sleep he groans; Even as he sleeps he moans, “God be merciful to me! Pity, Lord, my misery.”

Rest thee, pilgrim; not in vain Thy repentance and thy pain. Wonderful the grace divine! Thine the covenant,—still thine, Sealed to Abraham of old,— Bearing blessing manifold Unto ages yet unborn, Through thee, desolate, forlorn.

Ay! e’en now to him is given Token of the love of Heaven; For behold! about him stand Ministers of God’s right hand: Angels excellent in might, Radiant in robes of light;— And, before his ravished eyes, Lo, the ladder to the skies!

Oh, that blessed, wondrous sight! Making all the midnight bright,— Bringing hope and healing in, To the spirit stained with sin,— Driving grief and gloom away, With the breaking of the day,— Wakening every tender chord With the glory of the Lord!

Passed the Vision;—it is dawn; Shining sons of light are gone;— Wakes the servant of the Lord, Wondering, at His gracious word;— From his lips in language meet, Faith’s confession, grateful, sweet:— “Surely God was in this place, And upon me shone His face!”

So, upon the holy ground Where the gate of heaven he found, Buildeth he with pious care, Joining praise with humble prayer, From the stones of that blest place, A memorial to God’s grace:— “Bethel, Lord, its name shall be,— Covenant ’twixt Thee and me.”

Glory to Thy holy Name,— Thou, O Lord, art still the same! Angel-guides _our_ way attend; Angel-guards _our_ souls defend;— We, too, know the blessed ground Where the shining gate was found:— Trysting-place of earth and heaven,— Let the same sweet name be given:— Bethel, through the ages past,— Bethel still, while time shall last; Bethel, then, its dear name be,— Bethel, through eternity!

AN IDYL OF THE SPIRITUAL LIFE.

Silently, to lowly minds, God communicates His grace, And the wondering spirit finds The dear favor of His face.

Secretly the Voice divine Whispers low to each, apart; Suddenly, without a sign, Glows His presence in the heart.

Like the light of evening star, Reigns the peace that heals all strife; Passionless as lilies are, Love enthrones the heavenly life.

Silently the morning breaks, And the shadows flee away; So, in death, the soul awakes To the light of endless day!

OPPORTUNITY.

Before this truth be bared each brow,— The infinite is here and now! As sacred as the stars, the sod,— As near to Heaven, as close to God.

Call nothing common or unclean,— Nor deem thou any service mean; Forevermore this faith be thine,— All days, all duties, are divine.

E’en now, at thy reluctant feet, The seed-time and the harvest meet; “The morrow in the moment lies:” Heed well the Voice; awake! arise!

He, only he, is free indeed, Who in his heart holds fast this creed,— (A fadeless wreath for every brow), The infinite is here and now!

LET IN THE LIGHT!

Let in the light! The sky is bright, The air is flowing free; The mountains glow,— The vale, below, Is holding jubilee.

Let in the light! Sad oversight To miss so sweet a morn;— The vision flies; Awake! arise! Each dawn is life reborn.

Let in the light! O, read aright The day’s Apocalypse; Its hours enfold The age of gold, And all thy dreams eclipse.

Let in the light! 'Twill soon be night;— Prize every moment given; With all thy might Serve thou the right, And leave the rest to Heaven.

THE LAW OF LOVE.

O, the sky is blue above me, And the earth beneath is green, And softly bright the flowing light Floods the boundless space between.

But what if the day should darken, And death’s dread shadows fall? I need not fear; with heaven so near, Why should the night appall?

’Tis but the peaceful portal Unto a morn immortal; For the light that once gladdened the garden’s deep gloom, At last shall transfigure all blight into bloom.

For over and under the soul’s sore strife Is the blessed law of an endless life; From the sod to the stars, and the stars to the sod, Sways the everlasting love of God.

SUPPLICATION.

A cup of pleasure passing sweet, Sometimes, this life of hopes and fears,— But oft, a fountain full of grief, O’erflowing still with lonely tears.

When brightest skies above us bend, Dark o’er our heads the tempest lowers;— At best, a sombre happiness, A partial light, at best, is ours.

What waits beyond,—of good or ill, We vainly struggle to discern;— Poor, sinful, blind, and comfortless, O pitying Christ! to Thee we turn.

Our only help and refuge, Thou;— Give joy for sorrow, peace for strife; We bring our burdened hearts to Thee, O Love divine! our Light, our Life.

OUR LIFE IS LENT.

Our life is Lent:— Our years are spent In penance for the past; Our songs are sighs; Our brightest skies With clouds are overcast.

Our life is Lent:— The old lament— “All, all is vanity;” And Youth, in tears, Awaits with fears The morrow’s mystery.

Our life is Lent:— Lord, we repent Each folly, fault, and fall; Our best resolve Do thou absolve,— Forgive, forget it all.

Our life is Lent:— Our hearts are rent, As we Thy gifts recount, And mark again, With bitter pain, “The pattern in the mount.”

Our life is Lent:— Our strength is spent; O holy Judge, and just, Receive our prayer,— Poor sinners spare; Remember we are dust.

Our life is Lent:— But Jesus went This way; in Him confide;— 'Twill soon be past; Then, for thy fast, Eternal Eastertide!

LENTEN LESSONS.

Not of one day or age alone, In unfeared Future far away,— But here, and now, the Great White Throne:— To-day, to-day, the Judgment-Day!

On every heart, O God, impress This truth,—for all souls given,— That heaven does not make holiness, But holiness makes heaven.

Thy rightful dower Earth cannot give; Far other, thou, than sun and sod;— The soul of man can only live By living in the life of God.

The creed of a contracted heart, The code of a self-serving will, Ne’er matched thy nature’s nobler part, Nor could thy being’s end fulfill.

Peace is not here; in vain thy quest;— Thou art not brother to the clod; The heart of man can only rest By resting on the heart of God.

REMEMBER!