The Poetical Works of Robert Montgomery :: :: University of Virginia Library

“No chastening for the present seemeth to be joyous, but grievous: nevertheless afterward it yieldeth the peaceable fruit of righteousness.”—Heb. xii. 11.

When Time shall lay his lenient hand
On this large grief of ours,
The burden'd Heart will understand
The mystery of past hours;
But now, so thick a tear bedims the moisten'd eye
That earth looks sever'd off from yonder loving sky.

Mere fragment of a mighty Whole,
How little man can see,
While sin contracts the clouded soul,
Of plans becoming Thee,
Who didst by wisdom deep, from Thine all-boundless mind,
In heaven forecast the lot for human souls design'd.

To two eternities relate
The pangs endured on earth;
And all which marks our mortal fate
In sickness, death, or birth,
In awful depths of God before all time was plann'd,
And carries with it more than sin can understand.

Yet, when the cloud of woe hath burst
Upon our hearts and homes,
And Guilt appears by God accursed,
The wistful Spirit roams
From earth to heaven, in hope that some dear light will dart
A ray of guiding truth, to cheer the chasten'd heart!

Then, crowded o'er with sumless graves
This blighted world appears;
O'er each young joy the cypress waves,
The eye seems made for tears;
Calm mercies which remain in darkness now recede,
And boding Fancy dreams, that Life was born to bleed!

Unwise, unholy, and unjust
We mourners then are found,
Who, in bereavement, cannot trust
Those Arms encircled round
All sorrow, time, and change, whate'er the trial be,
To girdle man with strength, if Faith those Arms would see.

Afflictions should be sacred things;
Some drops that overflow
From that great Cup the Saviour brings
Of anguish, grief, or woe,
To each disciple here, who bears his Master's cross,
And, when he calls him, “Lord!” doth count the gainful loss.

How can the sainted child of God
Resemble Christ, unless
His upward path of life be trod
Through shades of stern distress?
The Lord of bleeding love, oh, lived He not alone,
Unecho'd by a heart that understood his groan?

And think, bereaved one! in that hour
When ruin'd hopes lie cold,
While death and darkness overpower
Whate'er thine eyes behold,
Of Him, who had not where to rest His gracious head,
Weeping with stricken heart, when Love “forsook and fled!”

Dejection now may cast
A dimming veil round all
Which brighten'd o'er thy youthful past;
While underneath the pall
That seems to overshroud whate'er we love below,
Thy creedless heart detects no sight but death and woe.—

Still, when the Dove of Peace divine
Shall o'er thy spirit brood,
And with His calm thy love combine,
The soul will say, 'Twas “good;—
Affliction with its flame hath purified the dross,
And deeper in my soul enstamp'd a Saviour's cross.”

And thus, the nerveless Mind will gain
New force, and faith to meet
Each rising swell of future pain,
And lay it at His feet;
As sunk the billows down along their placid sea,
When Christ in calmness walk'd the waves of Galilee.

Eternal Soother of the soul!
True Paraclete for all
Who yield to Thy serene control,
On Thee for aid we call;
Anguish, and gloom, and grave, can make the mourner sigh,
But, ah, we shall not sink,—The Comforter is nigh!

Perfect through suffering!—'tis the plan
Mysterious Love decrees;
And Christ, who was The sinless Man,
From this found no release:
His life was living prayer, with every pang combined,
Where men and angels see a perfect Will resign'd.

We seek not, Lord, a pangless life
In homes and haunts of bliss;
But, only that our mental strife
May ne'er Thy presence miss:—
Not starless is the night, when radiant truths arise,
And point each promise forth that beacons to the skies!