Chapter 3

"Ethel, my child, cease playing, come to me, There, lean your head upon your mother's knee, Do you remember dear what night this is? Look back at last St. John's day, then at this, You've often wondered why upon that night, When you my guide led from the gloom to light; That when you gave the name Adair it seemed, To him who heard it, as if he had dreamed. Like a dim funeral knell from some old chime, Heard years ago, in some far distant clime, Ethel, we should speak kindly of the dead, Unable to defend themselves, their spirits fled To worlds unknown to us, we cannot see The homes they occupy, the destiny It pleases God to give them, this we know That our reaping must be what we sow, If we plant thistles, we the thorn shall meet, If we sow ripe grains, we shall harvest wheat, And something else we know of future life, That be the memories of war and strife, Of evil thoughts which may have been controlled Of hearts through which wild passions unchecked rolled; Of base mean deeds that burn like felon brand, In the pure sunlight of the eternal land; Or if sweet recollections of the past, Of homes where love her golden radiance cast, Of deeds of mercy unto man unknown, But breathing incense to the star-gemmed throne; We know that not one of Adamic race, Is unknown unto Him, the Lord of Grace, And with the thoughts that shape themselves to prayer, We can but leave them in His gracious care, Who, as sharp nails were piercing each vein through, Prayed 'Father forgive, they know not what they do,' And preached of mercy to the souls in prison, Ere He from the well guarded tomb had risen; So darling think as gently as you may, On one you saw so sadly pass away. But duty bids me tell you, deeds of shame, Stamped dark dishonor on our household name, When we were living in the distant west, A trouble came; grief was no stranger guest, For racking fears sad day and anxious night, Seemed to hold life-long leases as their right, The trouble came through some high words at play. All I know was before noon next day, A letter came bidding me leave that night; Bring what I could and let none know my flight, To change my name, and if need be to swear I never knew 'Montrose' only 'Adair.' Part truth, part falsehood born of inward shame, That sank the true one for the middle name, I heard that dark red stains ended a strife Began in so-called play, and closed with life. I know for many months a namless dread, Hung like the sword of Damocles overhead, And we again had crossed the stormy main And hid away among the hills of Spain, But when you were an infant, nurse and I Took you one morning ere the sun was high, And in the little church covered with vines, O'er which the setting sun in glory shines, We gave you into the good Shepherd's Care Amid our falling tears and Heaven sent prayer; And there without respect to friends or foes, Stands your true name, Ethel Adair Montrose. My child before you close your eyes to-night, With no forebodings for to-morrow's light, Return your heartfelt thanks to Him whose hand Has led us safely through a desert land, Has kept our feet on many a slippery way, And guided us from midnight to the day, Lay at the Glorious Giver's blessed feet, All that he asks, your time that passes fleet, Your heart's first holiest love, your talents give To him who scorned not death, that we may live."

Mother, I'll not forget, To ask rich blessings upon you and him, Whom God sent as a life boat to the lost, A year ago to-night, when on the dim Dark seas of woe, our bark was tempest toss'd, The sun of hope had set.

I'm glad I went to-day, And laid a cross upon that snow-strewn grave, The sun gleamed out and on the white leaves burned, It seems as if the childhood love, I gave The one that calmly sleeps there, had returned Watch to keep o'er his clay.

And yet it's not the same In quality, the love I cherish now Has more of pity perhaps; another one Has surely right to my allegiance; how Can I forget all he for us has done? Hark! now he calls my name.

Ethel! where are you, there is the group you were speaking about one day, Do you know the faces, two you love best, then drive those tears away, What is there to cry for child, in a locket that's new and bright, It was to have been your Christmas gift, but it's just as good to-night, It bears the name of the day you came to spoil my dog and cat, My birds and me too I'm afraid, if you say much more like that. Sing me something instead, it's scarcely supper time yet--my child; I see you are weary, go and rest while these winter winds blow wild, Ethel, before you say 'good night,' we will sing "Abide with me," As I heard it twenty-six years ago the night I went to sea.

And softly upon the evening air, The strain of praise from true hearts was given And angels wafted the holy prayer, Like incense up to the throne of Heaven.

"Good night, sweet Ethel," a silence fell Solemn and calm, by no whisper broke, Two sat watching the fire, a spell Seemed holding each, until Victor spoke.

"Of what are you thinking so earnestly, you fancy I know the thought, That has grown to deep for utterance, with strange sad memories fraught, A year, a memorable year ago, yes, we shall ne'er forget, That day of St. John the Evangelist, that night when two old friends met, 'Twas a dreary watching too my love, all that night in solemn gloom, Where the dead lay cold and silently, waiting his lonely tomb, I am glad that Ethel went to-day, and laid a cross on that grave, I am glad that we each can truly say at the judgement day, 'I forgave,' I read some lines the other day, that may have been written for us, Heart histories repeat themselves like others, the lines ran thus:

"And midnight wearily stole on, Heavy clouds o'er the young moon swept, We looked out upon life and prayed We looked upon the dead and wept, That God can work while man looks on, That truth will triumph o'er our dread, A lesson sometimes hard to learn, We learnt while watching by the dead.

'Twas not a scene that lovers choose, Did any say that we had loved, The dead was by us, yet we knew, That we were living and beloved, Truth's talisman was on each heart Oh was there sin in what we said, The troubles told, the truth confessed, The night we watched beside the dead."

Aimee, look at this jewel rich, I have worn it the live long day, You think I value it, so I do, yet I deem it worthless clay, Compared with the other jewel rare, this Keystone brought to me, Bright gem, long hidden but not destroyed in some unfathomed sea, More honorable than golden fleece, more precious than the stone, That alchemysts seek vainly for, or gems of a regal crown, A Keystone brought to light once more, all uninjured by the storm, The rains of fire that have swept round my other jewel's form, For the fire doth but clear the dross, the waves but wash the dust, From off the jewels of purest gold, such jewels I hold in trust, For I should have claimed you still as mine, if we never more had met, Till free from stain of sorrow or sin we stand where hope's suns ne'er set, Where angels live on, in their life of love, unchanged yet ever new, And then the time, God's own right time would have come for my taking you, For this re-union upon earth, is the sign, beloved wife Of the eternal rest we'll share in the bright hereafter life; For have we not assurance blest, that whichever first goes home, Will await with loving patience, till the other one shall come,

Unto those who wear God's blessed seal upon each united heart, Those words must half their horror lose 'until death do you part,' For true love doth dissolve death's power, as spring's suns melt the snow, 'Tis the only password at the gates, through which we both must go, Where born of that benevolence which fills our Father's breast, Angelic masons now prepare our special house of rest, God's promises will never fail, if we but wait His hours, He sends His messages of peace, like His rainbow after showers, O'er one beam of that holy arch, this scroll now seems to glide, "After the dark and dreary day, it shall be light at eventide."

MISCELLANEOUS PIECES.

Mist and Sunshine.

I looked, and the mist had hidden Streamlet and gorge and mountain, Mansion and church had vanished away, No trace of tree or fountain. Mist, on the roof where birdlings wake The strains of old love stories, Mist, like tears on the roses' cheek, In cups of the morning glories.

"Ah, like life, 'said my heart to me,' Only a world of sorrow, The lips you love, the hands you clasp, Are cold and strange to-morrow. Mists on the stream of by-gone days, Where are your childhood bowers? Mists on the path of coming years. Where are your household flowers?"

I looked again; a sunbeam bright Had shot through the heavy mist; It drew the rose to its glowing breast, And the morning glories kissed. The spire of the Ascension Church Flashed out like St. 'Michael's sword, When girt with glowing armor, he Doeth battle for his Lord.

Each moment some high roof or tower, Some flush of the maple leaves, Grew fair to sight, the birdlings sang In nests on the sun-lit eaves; And Nature bathed in living light, As if she renewed her birth, The Universal Father smiled Through his sunbeam, on the earth.

"Ah, now my heart, so sad and cold With mists of its repining, What will thou say to see once more The cloud with silver lining?" Source of light! when I leave this sphere, Grant me a vision like this, Mists and shadows rolling away From the Paradise of bliss.

May I look thus on mounts of God, The flash of temple spires, And hear the deathless singers chant From their harmonious lyres; So may I close mine eyes on earth, While heaven's pure light is breaking, And some I know will fold me close, In arms of love awaking.

Charge to the Knight of Malta

_Air--Stephenos_

Lo, a knight in armour standing, Ready for the foe; Thee we greet, belov'd Companion, Thee we know.

Keep thine oath, oh new made soldier, Pledged in heaven's sight; Nor forget the vow thou'st taken, Malta's knight.

By the banner, o'er us waving, By thy lance at rest, Chiefly by that Cross emblazoned On thy breast.

In the heat of danger's trial, Dare the fiercest fight; No desertion, no denial, Right or life!

See thou turn not from the conflict, On the battle field, Though men bear a dying soldier On thy shield.

Let thy strong arm shield the helpless, And the feeble save; Mercy's voice the true knight knoweth, And the brave.

Welcome, dear Sir Knight, thrice welcome! To our tented field; God will aid us till the final Foe shall yield.

We are pledged unto His kingdom, Who for us hath borne Cross and spear, for us did suffer Crown of thorn.

Then, for Him who rose triumphant To the heavenly Lamp, Gird thy sword though night surround thee, Wild and damp.

When at last, in mortal weakness, Sword and spear must fall, Christ, unto Thy Grand Encampment, Take us all.

The Curl of Gold.

How wildly blows the wintry wind, deep lies the drifting snow On the hillside, and the roadside, and the valleys down below; And up the gorge all through last night the rushing storm flew fast, And there old walls and casements were rattling in the blast. Lady, I had a dream last night, born of the storm and pain, I dreamed it was the time of spring; but the clouds were black with rain. I thought that I was on the bay, a good way out from shore Alone, and feeling much afraid at the wild tempest's roar, I tried to reach the distant land, but could not find the way, And suddenly my boat capsized far out upon the bay. I shrieked in wildest agony amid the thunder shock, When I heard you saying unto me, "Beneath us is a Rock, Trust not to me, these waves are strong, but lift your tear-dimmed eye-- That star will lead us to the rock that higher is than I." And through the drenching wave and surf, together on we passed, Till the bright green slopes of Hamilton shone clearly out at last. It seemed so strange, we stepped ashore, your garments were all dry, And, holding hands as we do now, I heard you say "good-bye." Dear lady, now I see it all, those blessed words you said Were with me in the storm last night, like angels round my bed. "So many and great dangers that we cannot stand upright," "Defend us by thy mercy, from all perils of this night." Lady, I am a mother, none know it here save you; Don't blush for me, there is no shame, I am a wife, leal and true. Lady, true love is born of heaven, we may deem it dead and past, And sit with bowed down head alone, the heart's door closed and fast; When suddenly we hear a voice, and spite of bolt or bar, Like its dear Master, there it stands, stretching its arms afar; Though buried up it rises, though dead it lives anew, And breathes again its Master's words, "Sweet peace be unto you," Folks say, "There is a mystery about that poor sick girl," Lady, there's mystery round us all, that angels will unfurl, I have one favor now to ask, within this paper's fold, There's a little lock of baby's hair, just half one curl of gold, When I am in my coffin, and soon now I'll be at rest, Will you lay this little curl of gold upon my quiet breast, God and the angels only know where the other half lies hid, In the green sod of old Ireland, neath a baby's coffin lid, Don't'leave me yet, it is near night, I feel so strange to-day, You know the prayers for dying ones, oh kneel once more and pray,

Thank God for sending one to me, where the wild tempests roll, You won't forget--the little curl--Saviour receive my soul.

Holy Communion.

We were wearied in the battle, Tempted, and pained, and tried By day the din and the carnage, By night the rain's fierce tide; But we heard a loving message, From the Prince's tent it came, "Each meet in the banqueting house. In memory of my name."

We gathered; a motley regiment, Some young in the war of life, Some chiefs in the Royal Army, Some old and sick with strife, Some limped in the sacred pathway, Some were foot sore and worn, Some had their lances all shivered, Some had their banners torn.

And we all looked dim and dusty; We all were stained with sin; But we held the Prince's message, And the porter said "Come in." We went to the banqueting house; We sat at the Prince's board, There we polished each his helmet, We sharpened each his sword.

Our Prince--we talked of his strife, The forlorn hope He had led, How He opened the gates of life, And rescued from Death the dead; And with Him we saw a bright host, Our comrades gone on before, The right wing of our army Upon the farther shore.

And the festering wound was healed. The banners were made whole, Mists rolled back from the almost blind, Faith lit each warrior's soul; We drank of the fruit of the vine, We ate the living bread, The holy benediction fell, With healing on each head.

We entered in poor worn soldiers, We came out bolder knights, To march on to the Prince's battle, And war for His glorious rights, For had we not each re-taken The oath of allegiance high, And sworn round the Royal Standard To conquer, or to die.

Song of Azael.

I heard the voice of the Death Angel speak, As slowly he pass'd me by, And I saw him throw snow on the crimson cheek, And darken the laughing eye. I saw him glide down through many a street; Tears followed him like spring rain; And yet ever unheeding tears or prayers, He mattered his wild wild refrain, "Come away with me, sweet baby so bright, I love the young flowers of the rosebud's hue, What? mother would keep thee always in sight, And see the sad tears in those eyes so blue. Come with me, little one. All thorns and crosses for you are done, Mother will meet thee where all is fair, Grown to the height of the angels there. Quiet and deep, Be now thy sleep, Baby, so white.

For thou shalt travel where sorrow and strife Never shall darken thy pathway again. Azael must take home to the Lord of Life The darlings He bought on the cross with pain. Ah! you smile, little one. Pleasure and glory for you are won, Near to the angels, you're not afraid Of going with me far into the shade. The casket grows cold, The jewel I hold, For hearts of love.

Come along with me, thou trader in gold, Many have turned from thy office to-day. Thou hast no time to consider the claim Of the wronged or helpless who crossed thy way. You shudder, trembling one. Close up the ledger, business is done. Let you stay till your vessel comes in? I'll take you far from the market's din, And you'll have time, In that strange clime, To meditate.

For thou wilt awaken, I would not hold. If I could, the past from memory's ken. I fancy that other ledgers unfold, Their pages for some of you business men; Rest to night, tired one. Not half of your merchandise is done? The steamers, the banks, the corn exchange? No, Azael deals not in notes or change; He keeps no gold, In his fingers cold, He takes no bribe.

Come along with me, sweet lady so fair, Who told thee I was so grim and so cold; Know you that I covet that sunny hair, And those delicate arms's caressing fold; Fear me not, gentle one. What if the hymn and the task are done, In my arms there is far calmer rest, Then thou wilt find on thy lover's breast. Sleep, sleep for awhile, Then waken to smile, Ever and aye.

True life is progressive, my lady fair, And thou wilt re-open those radiant eyes; Think you that I have no burden of care, Azael has to account for each prize. Banish doubt, gentle one. Quicksands and pitfalls for thee are all done; Human love may ere long deceive thee, But Azael's love will never leave thee Till those earth-dim eyes Look on Paradise, Never to weep.

The song of Azael melted away, On the solemn midnight's bieath, I thought of the talents, the oilless lamps-- Oh, Azael, Angel of Death, I know that ere long thou wilt come for me. Immanuel, Lord of life, By Thy victory gained on the bitter cross, Save in that hour of strife.

Only a Story

Let me tell you a story, dear, Of someone I saw to-day, Only a man with a pale worn face, And auburn locks grown gray, One, I thought would never again, Come over my pathway here, One, I still hope to meet forgiven, In a better brighter sphere.

Why did you start, he knew me, yes, A flush as of pain, or pride, Pass'd swiftly o'er the pale stern face, And the high white forehead dyed, I heard the roll of carriage wheels, Unthinkingly raised my eyes, One glance flashed out beneatt thosee Brows, Like lightening across the skies.

Shudder not dear, 'tis he who grieves, Not I in my lonely life, I have a calm bright future now, He? well, he has gold and strife, They say that oft by the heaving lake, He wanders about alone, Waves that dash on the sandy beach, Answer his throbbing heart's moan.

Once or twice has been heard a name As if wrung with torturous pain, From lips to sacred silence sworn, Told only to storms and rain. He leaves the light of gilded halls, To clasp in the midnight air, Some flowers that faded years ago, One lock of a girl's dark hair.

Ask me not with those pleading eyes, If I dream about him yet; Is anything colder to your touch, Than ashes with rain-drops wet? What is harder to kindle up, Than lava grown black and cold, That once from burning mountain's heart, In fiery grandeur rolled.

Pity him, pray for him, that is well, Married for jewels and gold, Vipers crawl from the caskets bright, And they keep his fingers cold. Only a flush of pain or pride, When to-day our glances met, He in his gorgeous wealth arrayed, I, out in the cold and wet.

Hush; as we sow we surely reap, Yes, he has a wife and gold, Broad lands, a mansion white and tall Like an iceberg grand and cold, I? I've the blessings of the poor, Which fall like the gentle dew, I've claims on mansions far away, I have life, and love, and _you_.

Daybreak.

Turn thy fair face to the breaking dawn, Lily so white, that through all the dark, Hast kept lone watch on the dewy lawn, Deeming thy comrades grown cold and stark; Soon shall the sunbeam, joyous and strong, Dry the tears in thy stamens of gold-- Glinteth the day up merry and long, And the night grows old.

Turn thy fair face to Faith's rosy sky, Soul so white that lone night hath kept Sighing for spirits sin-bound that lie; Wrong has ruled right, and the truth has slept; The dawn shall show thee a host ere long, Planting sweet roses abqve the mould; The sun of righteousness beameth strong, And sin's night grows old.

Turn thine eyes to the burnished zone From out of thy nest neath darkened eaves, Oh bird, who hast mingled thy plaintive moan With sobbing winds through quivering leaves; From thy heart, by light which groweth strong, Draw out the thorns that pierced on the world; Glinteth the day up merry and long, And the night grows old.

Turn thy sad eyes to God's summerland, Mourner, who waileth some love laid past, Some bark that has anchored on foreign strand And left her sailors free from the blast; They are not here where the grass grows long, They are not down in the red-brown mould; Heaven's day is coming up fair and strong, And earth's night grows old.

The Wife's Watch.

Sleep on, my darling, sleep on, I am keeping watch by your side, I have drawn in the curtains close, And banished the world outside; Rest as the reaper may rest, When the harvest work is done Rest as the soldier may rest, When the victor's work is won.

You smile in your happy sleep: Are the children with you now? Sweet baby Willie, so early called, And Nellie with thoughtful brow, And May, our loving daughter. Ah, the skies grew dark, my love, When the sunshine of her presence Vanished to Heaven above.

While you're resting, my darling, I dream of the shadowy hour, When one of us looks the last On the light of its household bower, Then a sad sigh heaves my breast, And tears from my eyelids burst, As I ask of the future dim, "Which shall be summoned first?"

Sometimes I pray in terror That you may be first to go, Never again to sorrow, Or to feel one throb of woe, Beyond the mists of the river, Where mystic shadows weave, I have no fears, my beloved, In One we both believe.

But I, oh I so lonely, Could I look as I look now, If this was thy last long sleep, The ice of death on thy brow; In sight of the holy angels, I offer my earnest plea, I cry to my God and pray, "If one goes first, take me."

Our lives have been happy dear, I fancy the tears we shed, By our lost children's coffins. On faces white and dead, Are counted as dew drops now, On the flowers early sown In the gardens of Paradise, The Lord's, and still our own.

So we'll leave the future dim, Take the sunshine as we go, And when we come to the brink, Where black waves ebb and flow, We'll trust the voice which summons, The love that has ever kept, To fold in his arms one taken, To lead by His hand one left.

Adoniram.

A Legend of the Temple.

The dew was gone, The morn was bright, the skies were fair, The flowers smiled neath the sunbeams ray, Tall cedars grew in beauty there. As Adoniram took his way, To Lebanon.

Praise his heart filled, More than four hundred years had fled, Since from stern Egypt marched the bands, Whose sons, with Solomon at their head, And Tyrian brethern's skilful hands, Prepare to build.

He watched them there, Round every block, and every stone, Masonic implements were laid, But around _one_ were many thrown, And yet it seemed already made, Tried, true and square.

He wandering spake, "Are not all from one mountain brought As jewels for a diadem, Why, have they at this one stone wrought, Will not all see Jerusalem. One house to make?"