Ballads of the North and Other Poems By Harriet Eleanor Hamilton King |
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| ‘TO A GREAT AND GOOD PHYSICIAN.’ |
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 | Ballads of the North and Other Poems |  |
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‘TO A GREAT AND GOOD PHYSICIAN.’
God hears to-day, and every day, for thee
Blessings and prayers uncounted; therefore hear
Once for thyself, to greet thee this New Year,
Blessings and prayers uncounted; therefore hear
Once for thyself, to greet thee this New Year,
What He hears always:—little though it be
That words can tell. We thank Him for thy life,
Fulfilled in one strong, simple, selfless strife
With pain and ill; that, never taking breath
For one hour's ease, wrestles all day with death,
And conquers in His Name; and for the power
For soul and body's aid, that is thy dower,—
The mighty gift of healing, half of God,
And half of some steep journey nobly trod,
Some sublime hour of sacrifice in youth,
Where the two ways met,—this world's praise, and Truth.
That words can tell. We thank Him for thy life,
Fulfilled in one strong, simple, selfless strife
With pain and ill; that, never taking breath
For one hour's ease, wrestles all day with death,
And conquers in His Name; and for the power
For soul and body's aid, that is thy dower,—
The mighty gift of healing, half of God,
And half of some steep journey nobly trod,
Some sublime hour of sacrifice in youth,
Where the two ways met,—this world's praise, and Truth.
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Is not the time of trial without fear
Because the comfort of thy voice is near?
Have we not known how, all these years gone by,
Wherever called thee the most hopeless cry,
Wherever want most sad, and pain most sore,
Wherever most thy heart was pierced and rent,
Through the dark hours thy steadfast watchings wore,
The touches of thy tenderness were spent,
Till from the saved, the succoured, the consoled,
One blessing wraps thy name a thousandfold?
Because the comfort of thy voice is near?
Have we not known how, all these years gone by,
Wherever called thee the most hopeless cry,
Wherever want most sad, and pain most sore,
Wherever most thy heart was pierced and rent,
Through the dark hours thy steadfast watchings wore,
The touches of thy tenderness were spent,
Till from the saved, the succoured, the consoled,
One blessing wraps thy name a thousandfold?
Ah, to how many a man, like Hercules,
Hast thou brought home out of the gates of death
Hast thou brought home out of the gates of death
The best-belovèd, and joined hands of these
That parted hopeless;—or brought back the breath
Which even to the last had ebbed away
In little, lovely, moaning forms that lay
Chill on their mothers' bosoms! Who shall say
Of what deliverances from what despairs
How many still are mindful in their prayers,
And still remember thee by! At thy door
Even now what anxious faces evermore
Wait for the pity of thine eyes to cross
The story of their sickness or their loss;
And no one goes away without some balm,
The pain made softer, or the fear more calm.
What restless forms to-day are lying, bound
On sick-beds, waiting till the hour come round
That brings thy foot upon the chamber stair,
Impatient, fevered, faint, till thou art there,
The one short smile of sunshine to make light
The long endurance of another night.
That parted hopeless;—or brought back the breath
Which even to the last had ebbed away
In little, lovely, moaning forms that lay
Chill on their mothers' bosoms! Who shall say
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How many still are mindful in their prayers,
And still remember thee by! At thy door
Even now what anxious faces evermore
Wait for the pity of thine eyes to cross
The story of their sickness or their loss;
And no one goes away without some balm,
The pain made softer, or the fear more calm.
What restless forms to-day are lying, bound
On sick-beds, waiting till the hour come round
That brings thy foot upon the chamber stair,
Impatient, fevered, faint, till thou art there,
The one short smile of sunshine to make light
The long endurance of another night.
But of thy loving-kindness and thy care,
Hope, that thy footsteps follows everywhere,
Skill without measure, patience without fail,
Each one who knows thee knows a separate tale;
But only God knows all.—And if to some
(Are they indeed His best-beloved?) there come
Hours of severer proof, and furnace-tried,
Which may not be cut short nor turned aside,—
When the art fails then the love triumphs more;—
The last and best of gifts is yet in store.
Through uttermost extremity of pain,
Through darkness of deep waters, comes a strain
(The words return, the sense is mazed and dim),
‘And there appeared an Angel, strengthening him.’
And thy face is the vision, and thy voice
Hope, that thy footsteps follows everywhere,
Skill without measure, patience without fail,
Each one who knows thee knows a separate tale;
But only God knows all.—And if to some
(Are they indeed His best-beloved?) there come
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Which may not be cut short nor turned aside,—
When the art fails then the love triumphs more;—
The last and best of gifts is yet in store.
Through uttermost extremity of pain,
Through darkness of deep waters, comes a strain
(The words return, the sense is mazed and dim),
‘And there appeared an Angel, strengthening him.’
And thy face is the vision, and thy voice
Is soft above the tempest, though it close
Over one sinking in slow fires. Who knows
How many hearts for evermore rejoice
For that revealing what a friend may be,
For that upholding they have had of thee
In that unspoken, solemn fellowship!
This blessing go with thee from heart and lip:—
Because for our sake, us the sufferers,
How many hearts for evermore rejoice
For that revealing what a friend may be,
For that upholding they have had of thee
In that unspoken, solemn fellowship!
This blessing go with thee from heart and lip:—
Because for our sake, us the sufferers,
Thou makest of thy moments and thy hours
From sunrise unto sunset ministers
From sunrise unto sunset ministers
Unspared, unwearied, unto needs of ours,—
(From sunset unto sunrise who shall say
How often?) still foregoing day by day
The common ease and pleasure of the way,
Without self-pity and without regret
Wholly to thy heroic labour set,—
May God repay thee better than thy loss,
And such stray streaks as cannot choose but cross
The daily toil and tedium of thy track
Yield unto thee a sevenfold sunshine back!
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How often?) still foregoing day by day
The common ease and pleasure of the way,
Without self-pity and without regret
Wholly to thy heroic labour set,—
May God repay thee better than thy loss,
And such stray streaks as cannot choose but cross
The daily toil and tedium of thy track
Yield unto thee a sevenfold sunshine back!
The grace of God upon thee, may'st thou feel
The shortened slumber and the hasty meal
Refresh thee as a Sacrament;—thy sense
Be quickened into rapture more intense
Because thy joys are fewer;—and the green
Valleys be fairer because far between.
The first white flashing of a swallow's wing,
Glimpses of pear-trees between walls in spring,
The morning air from new-mown fields in June,
The water-lilies on a Sabbath noon,
The solemn river-sunsets through the smoke,
The first reviving smile from eyes awoke
Out of Death's shadow unto life again,—
Be sweeter unto thee than other men.
The shortened slumber and the hasty meal
Refresh thee as a Sacrament;—thy sense
Be quickened into rapture more intense
Because thy joys are fewer;—and the green
Valleys be fairer because far between.
The first white flashing of a swallow's wing,
Glimpses of pear-trees between walls in spring,
The morning air from new-mown fields in June,
The water-lilies on a Sabbath noon,
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The first reviving smile from eyes awoke
Out of Death's shadow unto life again,—
Be sweeter unto thee than other men.
And because mortal sorrow needs must fall
On all men, and the highest most of all,
And some sharp struggle crowns each perfecting,
And that our lower love no shield can bring
On all men, and the highest most of all,
And some sharp struggle crowns each perfecting,
And that our lower love no shield can bring
Between thee and the higher Love to stand,
That strikes for Love's own sake unfaltering,—
That strikes for Love's own sake unfaltering,—
Therefore when thou too stretchest out thy hand
For help, when thy need cometh, doubt, or pain,
Or loss, or other anguish of this earth,
And though we died for thee our death were vain,
And though we gave all it were nothing worth,
And of the many thousands whom thy face
Hath comforted, can none return the grace,
Being less than thee,—may the one Higher One
Do to thee even as thou to us hast done,
O Soother of our sorrows! May'st thou see,
Steadfastly gazing towards Eternity,
The heavens opened, and at God's right hand
With the same smile as once thy Master stand;—
Nor only so, but come down from His place,
And stand beside thee, and His arms embrace
Nor ever let thy hand go, holding fast,
Till all the tyranny be overpast.
For help, when thy need cometh, doubt, or pain,
Or loss, or other anguish of this earth,
And though we died for thee our death were vain,
And though we gave all it were nothing worth,
And of the many thousands whom thy face
Hath comforted, can none return the grace,
Being less than thee,—may the one Higher One
Do to thee even as thou to us hast done,
O Soother of our sorrows! May'st thou see,
Steadfastly gazing towards Eternity,
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With the same smile as once thy Master stand;—
Nor only so, but come down from His place,
And stand beside thee, and His arms embrace
Nor ever let thy hand go, holding fast,
Till all the tyranny be overpast.
New Year's Day.
| Ballads of the North and Other Poems | |