The Poetical Works of Walter C. Smith :: :: University of Virginia Library

Ah me! we plot and plan, but the great God orders all;
And that is not good to Him, which good we are fain to call.
Oh how I longed and hoped for the high communion day!
Oh how my heart leaped up when he did not say me nay!
Oh how I prayed, and was glad and tremulous through the Fast!
Oh how happy I was, with my hand on his arm, at last,
As gravely we paced together, down by the broomy brae,
Along by the sweet-briar hedge, and the clover-scented way,
All the maids robed in white, and the men in their sober black,
Sweet birds a-singing, and sweet bells ringing; and Paradise back!
Better I never had spoken; better he had not gone!
Better a yearning sorrow than a heart that is turned to stone!
What had come over our pastor, he so gentle and mild,
Leading his flock to still waters as father leadeth his child,
That day of all days, to preach terrors of wrath and hell,
Darkening God's house with the smoke of those in the pit that dwell?
Oh it was dreadful to listen! The very Psalms that he chose
Rung in the ear like curses hurled at the heads of foes;
The prayers were dry and dewless, and hard; and my heart grew sick,
To glance at my husband's face with its curious laughing trick:
I knew, in that furtive glance, that my hope was worse than lost,
And that, in my effort to save, I had perilled and harmed him most.
Pained there we sat in our pews, the victims of one man's mood,
And vainly tried to be patient; and vainly tried to be good;
E'en the sweet symbols of sorrow and love of the Crucified
Failed to lighten the gloom, for he took not his place by my side.
Never I sat at the Table so barren of grace as then,
Joyless and undevout, and wroth at the thoughts of men.
I had brought to the living water a thirsting soul with care,
And there was no living water, but a broken cistern there.

When we came home he sat alone in his room for a while;
But all that night he was gentle; and said, at last, with a smile,
“You want to know what I think of our minister's work to-day;
But shrink to ask me outright, for the wild words you fear I may say.

173

Why should you dread me, Hilda? You wished to do me some good;
So did the parson, no doubt, if he only had understood
The right way of going about it. He made a mistake; that is all;
Hell is the weak point, you see, and a cleverer general
Were fain to conceal the spot where the foe might thrust him sore;
But he is honest, and plays his tune by the regular score.
You are vexed that I happened to hear only that loud devil's chorus—
Very well done by the way—which brought all the horror before us,
When you had hoped to have only the lyric of love and endurance,
Swelling out high, at the close, to the joy and the hope and assurance.
But it is all of a piece, love, whether you like it or no,
All of it close-knit together; branched, but the branches grow
Out of the same deep root. I heard but the part of a whole;
I know that the chorus needed the lyric to melt the soul,
The lyric implies, too, the chorus; whichever you chance to hear,
Always the other is present to fill the heart or the ear.
I am not an unbeliever, love; only I cannot wink
At things I had rather not see, and thoughts I had rather not think;
Does it not seem, too, an odd way of quickening love and faith,
Picturing wrath that refuses e'en the grim mercy of death?
The higher my vision of God, the more I can trust and pray;
The better I seem to know Him, the broader appears the way;
God and charity grow together; and I cannot see
Any dark moment of Time when Hope must cease to be.
But will you hear what I thought as that sermon thundered on,
With lurid flashes of horror, and God's heart turned to stone?

So then he read to me this—“Other-world ballad” he calls it—
Of the meek soul that for love heeds not what sorrow befalls it,
Heeds not the bliss and the glory, but longs for them that are lying
Dim in the outer darkness, tossed in the anguish undying.
What can I think of it? what? who will guide me aright—
Me, a weak woman—to walk in the straight pathway of Light?
Sometimes it rings in my ear as deadly as error could be;
Sometimes I feel in my heart it is true as the gospel to me,
A thing I would do, myself, just then when my faith is most,
As I remember the love that suffered to save the lost.
But through the years and the ages, the Church, unchanging, cries,
Sad are the foolish virgins, and glad for ever the wise.
Dare I trust my heart's voice against the voice of the whole?
Yet should the roar of the crowd ever drown the true voice of the soul?
Oh, if clear it were only!

THE SELF-EXILED

There came a soul to the gate of Heaven
Gliding slow—
A soul that was ransomed and forgiven,
And white as snow:
And the angels all were silent.

174

A mystic light beamed from the face
Of the radiant maid:
But also there lay on its tender grace
A mystic shade:
And the angels all were silent.

As sunlit clouds by a zephyr borne
Seem not to stir,
So to the golden gates of morn
They carried her:
And the angels all were silent.

“Now I'll open the gate, and let her in,
And fling it wide,
For she hath been cleansed from stain of sin,”
St. Peter cried:
And the angels all were silent

“Though I am cleansed from stain of sin,”
She answered low,
“I came not hither to enter in,
Nor may I go”:
And the angels all were silent.

“I come,” she said, “to the pearly door,
To see the Throne
Where sits the Lamb on the Sapphire Floor,
With God alone”:
And the angels all were silent.

“I come to hear the new song they sing
To Him that died,
And note where the healing waters spring
From His piercèd side”:
And the angels all were silent.

“But I may not enter there,” she said,
“For I must go
Across the gulf where the guilty dead
Lie in their woe”:
And the angels all were silent.

“If I enter heaven I may not pass
To where they be,
Though the wail of their bitter pain, alas!
Tormenteth me”:
And the angels all were silent.

“If I enter heaven I may not speak
My soul's desire
For them that are lying distraught and weak
In flaming fire”:
And the angels all were silent.

“I had a brother, and also another
Whom I loved well;
What if, in anguish, they curse each other
In depths of hell?”
And the angels all were silent.

“How could I touch the golden harps,
When all my praise
Would be so wrought with grief-full warps
Of their sad days?”
And the angels all were silent.

“How love the loved who are sorrowing,
And yet be glad?
How sing the songs ye are fain to sing,
While I am sad?”
And the angels all were silent.

“Oh clear as glass is the golden street
Of the city fair,
And the tree of life it maketh sweet
The lightsome air”:
And the angels all were silent.

“And the white-robed saints with their crowns and palms
Are good to see,
And oh so grand are the sounding psalms!
But not for me”:
And the angels all were silent.

175

“I come where there is no night,” she said,
“To go away,
And help, if I yet may help, the dead
That have no day.”
And the angels all were silent.

St. Peter he turned the keys about,
And answered grim:
“Can you love the Lord, and abide without,
Afar from Him?”
And the angels all were silent.

“Can you love the Lord who died for you,
And leave the place
Where His glory is all disclosed to view,
And tender grace?”
And the angels all were silent.

“They go not out who come in here;
It were not meet:
Nothing they lack, for He is here,
And bliss complete.”
And the angels all were silent.

“Should I be nearer Christ,” she said,
“By pitying less
The sinful living, or woeful dead
In their helplessness?”
And the angels all were silent.

“Should I be like Christ were I
To love no more
The loved, who in their anguish lie
Outside the door?”
And the angels all were silent.

“Did He not hang on the cursèd tree,
And bear its shame,
And clasp to His heart, for love of me,
My guilt and blame?”
And the angels all were silent.

“Should I be liker, nearer Him,
Forgetting this,
Singing all day with the Seraphim,
In selfish bliss?”
And the angels all were silent.

The Lord Himself stood by the gate,
And heard her speak
Those tender words compassionate,
Gentle and meek:
And the angels all were silent.

Now, pity is the touch of God
In human hearts,
And from that way He ever trod
He ne'er departs:
And the angels all were silent.

And he said, “Now will I go with you,
Dear child of love,
I am weary of all this glory, too,
In heaven above”:
And the angels all were silent.

“We will go seek and save the lost,
If they will hear,
They who are worst but need me most,
And all are dear”:
And the angels all were silent.