Chapter 3

Let us up and doing be, Sow the seed all times and hours; Cast our bread on water even, Tax with vigor all our powers.

May the teachers now engaged, Courage take, and persevere; They'll not fail of their reward, Though they may not meet it here.

God is faithful, who hath said, (Let the thought allay your fears,) "They with joy shall surely reap, Who have sown in prayers and tears."

Then sow the seed with prayers and tears; Never doubt, but faithful be; Though thou reapest not for years, A rich harvest thou wilt see.

Happy faces now we miss, Who were wont these seats to fill; Loved and lovely passed away, Yet they're fresh in memory still.

Soon their earthly race was run, In the morning called away; Others soon may follow them, May all hear the Saviour say,

"Well done, faithful servant; thou Hast o'er few things faithful been, I will make the ruler now Over many--enter in."

[2] June 13, 1852.

FEED MY LAMBS.

Just before the bright cloud the Saviour received, When about to return to his father in Heaven; His mission accomplished, his work on earth done, 'Twas then that this parting injunction was given:

"Feed my lambs!" this was said to one of the twelve, Whom he called to be with him while sojourning here; "Feed my lambs!" Oh, what love was evinced by those words, What tender compassion, what fatherly care.

Three times at this meeting the question was asked, "Simon, son of Jonas, lovest thou me?" And though grieved, yet how truly could Peter reply, "Lord thou knowest all things, thou know'st I love thee."

Thrice this same Peter his Lord had denied, And had he not reason reproaches to fear? Oh, no! for his Saviour had all this forgiven, He saw his repentance, he knew it sincere.

That disciple soon followed his Lord whom he loved, And many long ages have since passed away; But the parting command still remains in full force, And will ever remain so till time's latest day.

Many wolves in sheep's clothing are still to be found, Whom Satan fails not to instruct and employ; They enter the fold, and with most specious wiles, Seek the young of the flock to ensnare and destroy.

And shall we dare call ourselves followers of Christ, And yet his known precepts presume to evade? Ah! stop and reflect, what's the test that's required? "If ye love me, keep my commandments," he said.

June 26, 1852.

"GOD IS LOVE."

Come blest Spirit from above, Come and fill my heart with love; Love to God, and love to man, Love to do the good I can; Love to high, and love to low, Love to friend, and love to foe. Love to rich, and love to poor, Love to beggar at my door. Love to young, and love to old, Love to hardened heart and cold. Love, true love, my heart within For the sinner, _not the sin_; Love to holy Sabbath day, Love to meditate and pray, Love for love, for _hatred_ even; _Love like this, is born of Heaven_.

TO MY FRIEND MRS. LLOYD

My very dear friend Should never depend Upon anything clever or witty, From a poor country wight When attempting to write, To one in your far famous city. Indeed I'm inclined, To fear that you'll find These lines heavy, and quite out of joint; And now I declare, It's no more than fair, Should this prove a dull letter, That you write me a better; And something that's quite to the point. This having premised As at present advised, I'll indulge in the thoughts that incline, Not with curious eye The dim future to spy, But glance backward to "Auld Lang Syne." If I recollect right, It was a cold day quite, And not far from night When _the Boarding School famous_ I entered. Now what could I do? Scarce above my own shoe Did I dare take a view, Or to speak, or e'en move hardly ventured. At this school I remained Till supposed to have gained Education quite good and sufficient; But one in those days, Thought deserving of praise, Would in these, be deemed very deficient. And here we will try Before the mind's eye, To bring forward a few of that household; There were the witty, Also the pretty, But some very plain, Not a few very vain, And among them the phlegmatic and cold. Though it seems out of place I will here find a space For some few in the lower apartment; Sure this must be right, They contributed quite To our comfort, in their humble department. Here's Lydia and Polly, And Peter the jolly, With teeth white as ivory And cheeks black as ebony, So from Africa doubtless was he; But we'll ascend from below, And see entering just now With a Parisian bow And all in a glow Gay Monsieur Pichon, And French teacher Faucon; Also V----, the Musician, And B----, Mathematician. Monsieur Laboltierre, So brisk and debonnair Had also been there; And there's Eggleston fair, With whom none might compare. Miss W----, romantic, Miss F----, transatlantic, And of others a score you might see. But here I propose The long list to close, With addition of only one name; Amidst the gay throng Was one lovely and young, Who brought sunshine wherever she came. She had light brown hair, Was graceful and fair, Of children many Youngest of any, And Margaret this maiden they call; A sweet smile she had That round her lips played, And with eyes bright and blue She'd a heart warm and true And disposition affectionate withal. One advantage she'll allow That I have over her now, The same in our youthful days, when On our studies intent Over school desk we bent, Her Senior I always have been. How like to a dream Do those days to me seem, When with others preparing to enter On the world's great stage, And with light heart engage Our part in the drama to venture. Of that school there's not one Except thee alone, Whom now living as friend I can claim; Some have departed, Some are false hearted, And their friendship exists but in name. But that friendship's long lived That forty years has survived, And may we not hope 'twill endure, When in flames of fire This earth will expire, And old time shall itself be no more.

July 12, 1852.

ESCAPE OF THE ISRAELITES,

AND DESTRUCTION OF PHARAOH.

Ah! short-sighted monarch, dost thou think to pursue The Israel of God, and recapture them too? Hast thou so soon forgotten the plagues on thee sent, Or so hardened thy heart that thou can'st not relent? Then make ready thy chariots, a long way they'll reach; Thou hast six hundred chosen, a captain to each. Now after them _hasten_, no time's to be lost, That God worketh for them, thou'st felt to thy cost. _Speed thee then, speed thee_, thou'lt soon them o'ertake, Thou hast so overtasked them they're powerless and weak. Ah! weak and defenceless they truly appear, But the Lord is their rock, they're his special care. See that pillar that's leading them all on their way, It's a bright cloud by night and a dark cloud by day; And now by the Red Sea behold they encamp, But _hark_! what's that sound, it's the war horse's tramp. Look up, see thy enemy close by thee now, The sea lies before thee, ah! what canst thou do? Moses bids them go forward at God's command, When the waters divide, and they walk on dry land; And the cloud that to Egypt is darkness all night, To the children of Israel, is a bright shining light. And now have the Hebrews all safely passed through The Red Sea, which Pharaoh assaying to do Is destroyed with his host, every one of them drowned, Not a man saved alive, not a _single man found_ To return to lone Egypt, the sad news to bear To the widows and orphans made desolate there. But list! hear the rescued their glad voices raise, And to timbrel and dance add the sweet song of praise, For Pharaoh hath perished beneath the dark sea, And the long enslaved Hebrews are happy and free.

July 14, 1852.

HYMN,

SUNG AT THE ORDINATION OF THE REV. HENRY ALLEN.

We meet to-day as ne'er before, To greet a pastor of our choice, Without a single jarring note, And without one dissenting voice.

Oh thou who art enthroned on high, Before whom holy angels bow, Be pleased to hear us when we sing, Accept the praises offered now.

Let no one present, dare to give, The service of the lip alone; Or think if they the heart withhold, 'Twill find acceptance at thy throne.

But with united heart and voice, A grateful tribute we would raise; Oh bless us all assembled now, Help us to pray, and help to praise.

Thou great Immanuel, who didst lead Thy Israel all the desert through; Like them we're weak and helpless quite, Oh! condescend to lead _us_ too.

And when our Shepherd with his flock Before thy throne shall re-appear, May every one acceptance find, And ceaseless praises offer there.

Sept. 1852.

MARGARET'S REMEMBRANCE OF LIGHTFOOT.

My beautiful steed, 'Tis painful indeed To think we are parted forever; That on no sunny day, With light spirits and gay, Over hills far away, We shall joyously travel together.

Thy soft glossy mane I shall ne'er see again, Nor thy proudly arched neck 'gain behold; Nor admire _that_ in thee, Which so seldom we see, A kind, gentle spirit, yet bold. Thou wert pleasant indeed My darling grey steed, "In my mind's eye" thou'rt beautiful still; For when thou wert old Thy heart grew not cold, Its warm current time never could chill.

Not a stone marks the spot Where they laid thee, Lightfoot, And no fence to enclose thee around; But what if there's not, _Deep engraved on my heart_ Thy loved image may ever be found.

"THE CLOUDS RETURN AFTER THE RAIN."

Dark and yet darker my day's clouded o'er; Are its bright joys all fled, and its sunshine no more? I look to the skies for the bright bow in vain, For constantly "clouds return after the rain."

Must it always be thus, peace banished forever, And joy to this sad heart returned again never? I long for the rest that I cannot obtain, For the clouds, so much dreaded, return after rain.

Is there not in this wide world one spot that is blessed With exemption from suffering, where one may find rest; Where sickness and sorrow no entranpe can gain, And the clouds do not return after the rain?

Ah! deceive not thyself by a vain hope like this, Nor expect in this world to enjoy lasting peace: But bow with submission to God's holy will, For the hand that afflicts is thy kind Father's still.

If my days are dark here, there are brighter above, In those pure realms of light, peace, joy, and of love; Where the air is all balm, and the skies ever fair, And the river of life, clear as crystal flows there.

There also, for healing the nations, are found The leaves of the tree on which rich fruits abound; There is no need of candle, for God is their light, There never is darkness, for "_there_ is no night."

Oh! may I there find, when this brief life is past, By my Saviour prepared, a sweet home at last; Where sin never enters, death, sorrow, nor care, And clouds are not feared, for it never rains there.

August 19, 1852.

THE NOCTURNAL VISIT.

Lo the curtains of night around Palestine fall, And Jerusalem's streets into darkness are thrown; The late-busy hum of men's voices is hushed, And the city is clad in dark livery alone.

But see through the dimness that half opened door, And slowly emerging a figure behold; A quick, furtive glance he has thrown all around, For what is he thirsting, for blood, or for gold?

Stealthily, fearfully, onward he moves, So light are his footsteps you scarce hear their tread; Yet no midnight robber, no murderer is he, Then why dread recognition--of man why afraid?

Let us follow his footsteps and learn where he goes; And now at the door of a house see him stand; But why wait so long ere admittance he seeks, In attempting to knock, why trembles that hand?

He has come to the fountain of light and of life, Before whom ne'er suppliant sued humbly in vain; He has come for the knowledge that alone maketh rich, And without which we're poor, though the whole world we gain.

He has come to learn wisdom of that lowly one, Who spake as "never man spake" it was said; And who, though so poor and despised among men, Is the whole world's Sustainer, creation's great Head.

But list to the words of the Saviour of men, "Verily, verily I say unto thee, That no man, except he be born again, Is permitted the kingdom of heaven to see."

How humbling to pride were these words of our Lord, What fears in his guest they serve to awaken; Though a ruler of Jews, he was yet in his sins; The first step towards heaven he never had taken.

Ah! Nicodemus, how many like thee, Would perceive all their boasted religion was vain, Could they meet but his glance who "searcheth the heart, And trieth the reins of the children of men."

Sept. 9, 1852.

SOVEREIGNTY OF GOD AND FREE AGENCY OF MAN.

Thou art a perfect Sovereign, oh my God! And I rejoice to think that thou art so; That all events are under thy control, And that thou knowest all I think and do. But some may ask, "then why am I to blame Because I sin, if God hath made me thus?" Stop, stop, my friend, God tempteth not to sin, Thou dost it of thy own free will and choice. Though God is Sovereign, we free agents are, Accountable to him for all we do, Feel, think, or say; and at the last great day, A most exact account must render too. With this conclusion be thou satisfied-- _For all who will accept him, Christ hath died_.

Sept. 19, 1862.

* * * * *

God is a Sovereign, man free agent too; How these to reconcile I do not know: But _this_ I know, if _lost_, the blame is _mine_, If saved, the _praise_, oh God! be _only thine_.

AUTUMN AND SUNSET.

Hail, sober Autumn! thee I love, Thy healthful breeze and clear blue sky; And _more_ than flowers of Spring admire Thy falling leaves of richer dye.

'Twas even thus when life was young, I welcomed Autumn with delight; Although I knew that with it came The shorter day and lengthened night.

Let others pass October by, Or dreary call its hours, or chill; Let poets always sing of Spring, My praise shall be of Autumn still.

And I have loved the setting sun, E'en than his rising beams more dear; 'Tis fitting time for serious thought, It is an hour for solemn prayer.

Before the evening closes in, Or night's dark curtains round us fall, See how o'er tree, and spire, and hill, That setting sun illumines all.

So when my earthly race is run, When called to bid this world adieu, Like yonder cloudless orb I see, May _my_ sun set in glory too.

Oct 8, 1852.

"MY TIMES ARE IN THY HAND."

My times are in thy hand, my God! And I rejoice that they are so; My times are in thy hand, my God, Whether it be for weal or woe.

My times are in thy hand, I know; And if I'm washed in Jesus' blood, Though dark my pathway here below, It leads directly up to God.

Since all thy children chastening need, And all _so called_ must feel the rod, Why for exemption should I plead, For am I not thy child, my God?

Ah why go mourning all the day, Or why should I from trials shrink? Though much of sorrow's in my cup, The cup that I am called to drink.

'Tis needful medicine I know, By the most skilful hand prepared, Strictly proportioned to my wants, There's _not a drop_ that can be spared.

Then why desponding, oh my soul, Because of trials here below? They're all appointed by my God, My times are in thy hand, I know.

Jan. 18, 1863.

NOVEMBER.

Remember the poor, in the dark chilly day, When November's loud winds are fierce blowing; Remember the poor, at thy plentiful board, When the fire on thy bright hearth is glowing.

Remember the poor in yon damp dismal shed, Without food, fire, or clothing to warm them; And not like the Priest or the Levite pass by, But Samaritan like stop and cheer them.

Remember the slave, the poor down trodden slave, And do all in thy power to relieve him; And when from oppression he strives to be free, Do thou open thy gate to receive him.

For what saith the Lord is thy duty to such, "To his master thou shalt not return him,"[3] But give him a home near thy own if he likes, And be sure not to vex or oppress him.

When parents or children or brethren you meet, In our happy New England and free, Then remember the slave, the heart broken slave, For thy brother, _thy brother_ is he.

Remember him also when prayer for thyself, In affliction's dark hour doth ascend; And when crying to God the father of all, Let _his_ wants with _thine own_ kindly blend.

And at the last day, when the rich and the poor Shall alike by the _Judge_ be regarded; When master and slave shall appear before God, And a sentence impartial awarded,--

The cup of cold water He will not forget, But with other good acts bring to mind; "When naked ye clothed me, when hungry ye fed," Will be uttered in accents most kind.

But when, blessed Saviour, ah when was the time, That we fed, clothed, or visited thee? "Such acts," He replies, "to my poor brethren done, I consider as done unto me."

Nov. 1862.

[3] See Deuteronomy, 23:15, 16.

WINTER.

His thundering car Is heard from afar, And his trumpet notes sound All the country around; Stop your ears as you will, That loud blast and shrill Is heard by you still. Borne along by the gale, In his frost coat of mail, Midst snow, sleet, and hail, He comes without fail, And drives all before him, Though men beg and implore him Just to let them take breath, Or he'll drive them to death. But he comes in great state, And for none will he wait, Though he sees their distress Yet he spares them no less, For the cold stiff limb Is nothing to him; And o'er countless blue noses, His hard heart he closes. His own children fear him And dare not come near him; E'en his favorite child[4] Has been known to run wild At his too near approach, Her fear of him such, And to shriek and to howl And return scowl for scowl. Indeed few dare him face, And _all_ shun his embrace; For though pleasant his smile, Yet one thinks all the while Of that terrible frown, Which the hardiest clown, Though a stout hearted man, Will avoid if he can. And though many maintain That he gives needless pain, I confess I admire This venerable sire. True his language is harsh, And his conduct oft rash, And we know well enough, That his manners are rough; Yet still in the main, We've no right to complain, For if we prepare for him, And show that we care for him, We may in him find A true friend and kind. With us he will stay Three months to a day, So let us prepare The snug elbow chair, Which placed by the fire For the hoary-head sire, May comfort impart And cheer his old heart. Though he seems so unkind, Yet always you'll find That his cold heart will warm, And he'll do you no harm If your _own_ can but _feel_ For your poor neighbor's weal; And with pity o'erflowing, Your free alms bestowing, Never closing your door On the suffering poor; But clothe, feed, and warm them, And see that none harm them. _E'en to others just do_ As you'd wish them by you. Let's adopt but this plan, To do good when we can, And the dark stormy day Will full quick pass away, And we never complain Of cold weather again, Or of tedious long hours, That are spent within doors; For when winter winds blow, And we're hedged up by snow, We shall find full employment, And lack no enjoyment. Thus prepared, let him come, He will find us at home; Bring wind, hail, or snow, Blow high, or blow low, We're prepared for him now. Then come winter, come, You'll find us at home.

Nov. 5, 1852.

[4] Spring.

There is within this heart of mine, An aching void earth ne'er can fill; I've tried its joys, its friendships proved, But felt that aching void there _still_.

Thy love alone, my Saviour God, True satisfaction can impart; Can fill this aching void I feel, And give contentment to my heart.

Oh! cheer me by thy presence, Lord, Increase my faith an hundred fold; Be _thy name_ on my forehead found, _Mine_ in thy book of life enrolled.

Dec. 19, 1862.

* * * * *

Forever closed that dark blue eye, Full and expressive, pensive too; Thy light brown hair, and face so fair, And graceful form are hid from view.

LIFE'S CHANGES.

A fair young girl was to the altar led By him she loved, the chosen of her heart; And words of solemn import there were said, And mutual vows were pledged till death should part.

But life was young, and death a great way off, At least it seemed so then, on that bright morn; And they no doubt, expected years of bliss, And in their path the rose without a thorn.

Cherished from infancy with tenderest care, A precious only daughter was the bride; And when that young protector's arm she took, She for the first time left her parents' side.

With all a woman's tender, trustful heart, She gave herself away to him she loved; Why should she not, was he not all her own, A choice by friends and parents too approved?

How rapidly with him the days now fly, With _him_ the partner of her future life; Happy and joyous as a child she'd been, Happy as daughter, _happier still as wife_.

But ere eight months in quick succession passed, One to each human heart a dreaded foe, Entered her house, and by a single stroke, Blasted her hopes, and laid her idol low.

Three months of bitter anguish was endured, But hope again revived, and she was blest, When pressing to her heart a darling child, Whose little head she pillowed on her breast.

Not long is she permitted to enjoy, This sweetest bud of promise to her given; Short as an angel's visit was its stay, When God, who gave it, took it up to heaven.

Ah, what a contrast one short year presents! Replete with happiness--replete with woe; In that brief space, a maiden called, and wife, Widow and mother written--childless too.

Surely my friend, I need not say to thee, Look not to earth for what it can't bestow; 'Tis at the best a frail and brittle reed, Which trusting for support, will pierce thee through.

Then let us look above this fleeting earth, To heaven and heavenly joys direct our eyes; No lasting happiness this world affords-- "He builds too low who builds below the skies."

Weston, Dec. 1, 1852.

LINES.

"They will not frame their doings to turn unto their God. Hosea, 5:4."

I would frame all my doings to please thee, my God! 'Tis from thee all my mercies proceed; I would frame all my doings to serve thee, my God! For thy service is freedom indeed.

I would frame all my doings to please thee, my God! But how feeble my best efforts are; Ah! how needful for me is thy chastening rod, And a proof of thy fatherly care.

I would frame all my doings to serve thee, my God! But my goodness extends not to thee; And when on well doing I'm fully intent, Alas! evil is present with me.

My Creator, Preserver, Redeemer and King, I would tax all my powers to obey; But to Him let me look for the help that I need, Who is the life, the light, and the way.

Weston, Jan. 21, 1853.

"TAKE NO THOUGHT FOR THE MORROW."

Take no thought for the morrow, the Saviour hath said, And he spake as ne'er man spake before; "He carried our sorrows," "was acquainted with grief," And knew well what the heart could endure.

Let the morrow take care for the things of itself, And not by its weight crush thee down; Sufficient to-day is the evil thereof, Let the ills of to-morrow alone.

Neither boast of to-morrow, for what is thy life, But a vapor that floateth away; Like a _tale_ quickly told, or a _dream_ of the night, That departs at the breaking of day.

Be not like the man who once said in his heart, "I have goods that are laid by for years;" But scarce had he planned how they best might be stored, When he dies and leaves all to his heirs.

Neither _dread_ then, nor _boast_ of to-morrow, my soul, But make most of the time that's now given; Be the ground well prepared, with good seed sown thereon, And 'twill yield a rich harvest in heaven.

Jan. 24, 1853.

REMINISCENCES OF THE DEPARTED.

His mission soon accomplished, His race on earth soon run, He passed to realms of glory, Above the rising sun.

So beautiful that infant, When in death's arms he lay; It seemed like peaceful slumber, That morn might chase away.

But morning light was powerless, Those eyelids to unclose; And sunshine saw and left him, In undisturbed repose.