 | [Poems by Cary in] The Poetical Works Of Alice and Phoebe Cary |  |
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RELIGIOUS POEMS AND HYMNS.
THANKSGIVING.
For the sharp conflicts I have had with sin,
Wherein.
I have been wedged and pressed
Nigh unto death, I thank thee, with the rest
Of my befallings, Lord, of brighter guise,
And named by mortals, good,
Which to my hungry heart have given food,
Or costly entertainment to my eyes.
Wherein.
I have been wedged and pressed
Nigh unto death, I thank thee, with the rest
Of my befallings, Lord, of brighter guise,
And named by mortals, good,
Which to my hungry heart have given food,
Or costly entertainment to my eyes.
For I can only see,
With spirit truly reconciled to thee,
In the sad evils with our lives that blend,
A means, and not an end:
With spirit truly reconciled to thee,
In the sad evils with our lives that blend,
A means, and not an end:
Since thou wert free
To do thy will—knewest the bitter worth
Of sin, and all its possibility,
Ere that, by thy decree,
The ancient silence of eternity
Was broken by the music of man's birth.
To do thy will—knewest the bitter worth
Of sin, and all its possibility,
Ere that, by thy decree,
The ancient silence of eternity
Was broken by the music of man's birth.
Therefore I lay my brows
Discrowned of youth, within thy gracious hands,
Or rise while daybreak dew is on the boughs
To strew thy road with sweets, for thy commands
Do make the current of my life to run
Through lost and cavernous ways,
Bordered with cloudy days,
In its slow working out into the sun.
Hills, clap your hands, and all ye mountains, shout:
Hie, fainting hart, to where the waters flow;
Children of men, put off your fear and doubt;
The Lord who chasteneth, loveth you, for, lo!
The wild herb's wounded stalk He cares about,
And shields the ravens when the rough winds blow;
He sendeth down the drop of shining dew
To light the daisy from her house of death,
And shall He, then, forget the like of you,
O ye, of little faith!
Discrowned of youth, within thy gracious hands,
Or rise while daybreak dew is on the boughs
To strew thy road with sweets, for thy commands
Do make the current of my life to run
Through lost and cavernous ways,
Bordered with cloudy days,
In its slow working out into the sun.
Hills, clap your hands, and all ye mountains, shout:
Hie, fainting hart, to where the waters flow;
Children of men, put off your fear and doubt;
The Lord who chasteneth, loveth you, for, lo!
The wild herb's wounded stalk He cares about,
And shields the ravens when the rough winds blow;
He sendeth down the drop of shining dew
To light the daisy from her house of death,
And shall He, then, forget the like of you,
O ye, of little faith!
He speaketh to the willing soul and heart
By dreams, and in the visions of the night,
And happy is the man who, for his part,
Rejoiceth in the light
Of all his revelations, whether found
In the old books, so sacredly upbound,
And clasped with golden clasps, or whether writ
Through later instillations of his power,
Where he that runneth still perceiveth it
Illuminating every humble flower
That springeth from the ground.
By dreams, and in the visions of the night,
And happy is the man who, for his part,
Rejoiceth in the light
Of all his revelations, whether found
In the old books, so sacredly upbound,
And clasped with golden clasps, or whether writ
Through later instillations of his power,
Where he that runneth still perceiveth it
Illuminating every humble flower
That springeth from the ground.
His testimony all the time is sure;
The smallest star that keepeth in the night
His silver candle bright,
And every deed of good that anywhere
Maketh the hands of holy women white;
All sweet religious work, all earnest prayer,
Of uttered, or unutterable speech;
Whatever things are peaceable and pure,
Whatever things are right,
These are his witnesses, aye, all and each!
The smallest star that keepeth in the night
His silver candle bright,
And every deed of good that anywhere
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All sweet religious work, all earnest prayer,
Of uttered, or unutterable speech;
Whatever things are peaceable and pure,
Whatever things are right,
These are his witnesses, aye, all and each!
Thrice happy is the man who doth obey
The Lord of love, through love; who fears to break
The righteous law for th' law's righteous sake;
And who, by daily use of blessings, gives
Thanks for the daily blessings he receives;
His spirit grown so reverent, it dares
Cast the poor shows of reverence away,
Believing they
More glorify the Giver, who partake
Of his good gifts, than they who fast and make
Burnt offerings and Pharisaic prayers.
The Lord of love, through love; who fears to break
The righteous law for th' law's righteous sake;
And who, by daily use of blessings, gives
Thanks for the daily blessings he receives;
His spirit grown so reverent, it dares
Cast the poor shows of reverence away,
Believing they
More glorify the Giver, who partake
Of his good gifts, than they who fast and make
Burnt offerings and Pharisaic prayers.
The wintry snows that blind
The air, and blight what things were glorified
By summer's reign, we do not think unkind
When that we see them changed, afar and wide,
To rain, that, fretting in the rose's face,
Brings out a softer grace,
And makes the troops of rustic daffodils
Shake out their yellow skirts along the hills,
And all the valleys blush from side to side.
The air, and blight what things were glorified
By summer's reign, we do not think unkind
When that we see them changed, afar and wide,
To rain, that, fretting in the rose's face,
Brings out a softer grace,
And makes the troops of rustic daffodils
Shake out their yellow skirts along the hills,
And all the valleys blush from side to side.
And as we climb the stair,
Of rough and ugly fortune, by the props
Of faith and charity, and hope and prayer,
To the serene and beauteous mountaintops
Of our best human possibility,
Where haunts the spirit of eternity,
The world below looks fair,—
Its seeming inequalities subdued,
And level, all, to purposes of good.
Of rough and ugly fortune, by the props
Of faith and charity, and hope and prayer,
To the serene and beauteous mountaintops
Of our best human possibility,
Where haunts the spirit of eternity,
The world below looks fair,—
Its seeming inequalities subdued,
And level, all, to purposes of good.
I thank thee, gracious Lord,
For the divine award
Of strength that helps me up the heavy heights
Of mortal sorrow, where, through tears forlorn,
My eyes get glimpses of the authentic lights
Of love's eternal morn.
For the divine award
Of strength that helps me up the heavy heights
Of mortal sorrow, where, through tears forlorn,
My eyes get glimpses of the authentic lights
Of love's eternal morn.
For thereby do I trust
That our afflictions springs not from the dust,
And that they are not sent
In arbitrary chastisement,
Nor as avengers to put out the light
And let our souls loose in some damnèd night
That holds the balance of thy glory, just;
But rather, that as lessons they are meant,
And as the fire tempers the iron, so
Are we refined by woe.
That our afflictions springs not from the dust,
And that they are not sent
In arbitrary chastisement,
Nor as avengers to put out the light
And let our souls loose in some damnèd night
That holds the balance of thy glory, just;
But rather, that as lessons they are meant,
And as the fire tempers the iron, so
Are we refined by woe.
I thank thee for my common blessings, still
Rained through thy will
Upon my head; the air
That knows so many tunes which grief beguile,
Breathing its light love to me everywhere,
And that will still be kissing all the while,
Rained through thy will
Upon my head; the air
That knows so many tunes which grief beguile,
Breathing its light love to me everywhere,
And that will still be kissing all the while,
I thank thee that my childhood's vanished days
Were cast in rural ways,
Where I beheld, with gladness ever new,
That sort of vagrant dew
Which lodges in the beggarly tents of such
Vile weeds as virtuous plants disdain to touch,
And with rough-bearded burs, night after night,
Upgathered by the morning, tender and true,
Into her clear, chaste light.
Were cast in rural ways,
Where I beheld, with gladness ever new,
That sort of vagrant dew
Which lodges in the beggarly tents of such
Vile weeds as virtuous plants disdain to touch,
And with rough-bearded burs, night after night,
Upgathered by the morning, tender and true,
Into her clear, chaste light.
Such ways I learned to know
That free will cannot go
Outside of mercy; learned to bless his name
Whose revelations, ever thus renewed
Along the varied year, in field and wood,
His loving care proclaim.
I thank thee that the grass and the red rose
Do what they can to tell
How spirit through all forms of matter flows;
For every thistle by the common way
Wearing its homely beauty,—for each spring
That sweet and homeless, runneth where it will,—
For night and day,
For the alternate seasons,—everything
Pertaining to life's marvelous miracle.
That free will cannot go
Outside of mercy; learned to bless his name
Whose revelations, ever thus renewed
Along the varied year, in field and wood,
His loving care proclaim.
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Do what they can to tell
How spirit through all forms of matter flows;
For every thistle by the common way
Wearing its homely beauty,—for each spring
That sweet and homeless, runneth where it will,—
For night and day,
For the alternate seasons,—everything
Pertaining to life's marvelous miracle.
Even for the lowly flower
That, living, dwarfed and bent
Under some beetling rock, in gloom profound,
Far from her pretty sisters of the ground.
And shut from sun and shower,
Seemeth endowed with human discontent.
That, living, dwarfed and bent
Under some beetling rock, in gloom profound,
Far from her pretty sisters of the ground.
And shut from sun and shower,
Seemeth endowed with human discontent.
Ah! what a tender hold
She taketh of us in our own despite,—
A sadly-solemn creature,
Crooked, despoiled of nature,
Leaning from out the shadows, dull and cold,
To lay her little white face in the light.
She taketh of us in our own despite,—
A sadly-solemn creature,
Crooked, despoiled of nature,
Leaning from out the shadows, dull and cold,
To lay her little white face in the light.
The chopper going by her rude abode,
Thinks of his own rough hut, his old wife's smile,
And of the bare young feet
That run through th' frost to meet
His coming, and forgets the weary load
Of sticks that bends his shoulders down the while.
Thinks of his own rough hut, his old wife's smile,
And of the bare young feet
That run through th' frost to meet
His coming, and forgets the weary load
Of sticks that bends his shoulders down the while.
I thank thee, Lord, that Nature is so wise,
So capable of painting in men's eyes
Pictures whose airy hues
Do blend and interfuse
With all the darkness that about us lies,—
That clearly in our hearts
Her law she writes,
Reserving cunning past our mortal arts,
Whereby she is avenged for all her slights.
So capable of painting in men's eyes
Pictures whose airy hues
Do blend and interfuse
With all the darkness that about us lies,—
That clearly in our hearts
Her law she writes,
Reserving cunning past our mortal arts,
Whereby she is avenged for all her slights.
And I would make thanksgiving
For the sweet, double living,
That gives the pleasures that have passed away,
The sweetness and the sunshine of to-day.
For the sweet, double living,
That gives the pleasures that have passed away,
The sweetness and the sunshine of to-day.
I see the furrows ploughed and see them planted,
See the young cornstalks rising green and fair;
Mute things are friendly, and I am acquainted
With all the luminous creatures of the air;
And with the cunning workers of the ground
That have their trades born with them, and with all
The insects, large and small,
That fill the summer with a wave of sound.
I watch the wood-bird line
Her pretty nest, with eyes that never tire,
And watch the sunbeams trail their wisps of fire
Along the bloomless bushes, till they shine.
See the young cornstalks rising green and fair;
Mute things are friendly, and I am acquainted
With all the luminous creatures of the air;
And with the cunning workers of the ground
That have their trades born with them, and with all
The insects, large and small,
That fill the summer with a wave of sound.
I watch the wood-bird line
Her pretty nest, with eyes that never tire,
And watch the sunbeams trail their wisps of fire
Along the bloomless bushes, till they shine.
The violet, gathering up her tender blue
From th' dull ground, is a good sight to see;
And it delighteth me
To have the mushroom push his round head through
The dry and brittle stubble, as I pass,
His smooth and shining coat, half rose half fawn,
But just put on;
And to have April slip her showery grass
Under my feet, as she was used to do,
In the dear spring-times gone.
From th' dull ground, is a good sight to see;
And it delighteth me
To have the mushroom push his round head through
The dry and brittle stubble, as I pass,
His smooth and shining coat, half rose half fawn,
But just put on;
And to have April slip her showery grass
Under my feet, as she was used to do,
In the dear spring-times gone.
I make the brook, my Nile,
And hour by hour beguile,
Tracking its devious course
Through briery banks to its mysterious source,
That I discover, always, at my will,—
A little silver star,
Under the shaggy forehead of some hill,
From traveled ways afar.
And hour by hour beguile,
Tracking its devious course
Through briery banks to its mysterious source,
That I discover, always, at my will,—
A little silver star,
Under the shaggy forehead of some hill,
From traveled ways afar.
Forgetting wind and flood,
I build my house of unsubstantial sand,
Shaping the roof upon my double hand,
And setting up the dry and sliding grains,
With infinite pains,
In the similitude
Of beam and rafter,—then
Where to the ground the dock its broad leaf crooks,
I hunt long whiles to find the little men
That I have read of in my story-books.
I build my house of unsubstantial sand,
Shaping the roof upon my double hand,
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With infinite pains,
In the similitude
Of beam and rafter,—then
Where to the ground the dock its broad leaf crooks,
I hunt long whiles to find the little men
That I have read of in my story-books.
Often, in lawless wise,
Some obvious work of duty I delay,
Taking my fill
Of an uneasy liberty, and still
Close shutting up my eyes,
As though it were not given me to see
The avenging ghost of opportunity
Thus slighted, far away.
Some obvious work of duty I delay,
Taking my fill
Of an uneasy liberty, and still
Close shutting up my eyes,
As though it were not given me to see
The avenging ghost of opportunity
Thus slighted, far away.
I linger when I know
That I should forward go;
Now, haply for the katydid's wild shrill,
Now listening to the low,
Dull noise of mill-wheels—counting, now, the row
Of clouds about the shoulder of the hill.
That I should forward go;
Now, haply for the katydid's wild shrill,
Now listening to the low,
Dull noise of mill-wheels—counting, now, the row
Of clouds about the shoulder of the hill.
My heart anew rejoices
In th' old familiar voices
That come back to me like a lullaby;
Now 't is the church-bell's call,
And now a teamster's whistle,—now, perhaps,
The silvery lapse
Of waters in among the reeds that meet;
And now, down-dropping to a whispery fall,
Some milkmaid, chiding with love's privilege,
Through the green wall
Of the dividing hedge,
And the so sadly eloquent reply
Of the belated cow-boy, low and sweet.
In th' old familiar voices
That come back to me like a lullaby;
Now 't is the church-bell's call,
And now a teamster's whistle,—now, perhaps,
The silvery lapse
Of waters in among the reeds that meet;
And now, down-dropping to a whispery fall,
Some milkmaid, chiding with love's privilege,
Through the green wall
Of the dividing hedge,
And the so sadly eloquent reply
Of the belated cow-boy, low and sweet.
I see, as in a dream,
The farmer plodding home behind his team,
With all the tired shadows following,
And see him standing in his threshing-floor,
The hungry cattle gathered in a ring
About the great barn-door.
The farmer plodding home behind his team,
With all the tired shadows following,
And see him standing in his threshing-floor,
The hungry cattle gathered in a ring
About the great barn-door.
I see him in the sowing,
And see him in the mowing,
The air about him thick with gray-winged moths;
The day's work nearly over,
And the long meadow ridged with double swaths
Of sunset-light and clover.
And see him in the mowing,
The air about him thick with gray-winged moths;
The day's work nearly over,
And the long meadow ridged with double swaths
Of sunset-light and clover.
When falls the time of solemn Sabbath rest,
In all he has of best
I see him going (for he never fails)
To church, in either equitable hand
A shining little one, and all his band
Trooping about him like a flock of quails.
With necks bowed low, and hid to half their length
Under the jutting load of new-made hay,
I see the oxen give their liberal strength
Day after day,
And see the mower stay
His scythe, and leave a patch of grass to spread
Its shelter round the bed
Of the poor frighted ground-bird in his way.
In all he has of best
I see him going (for he never fails)
To church, in either equitable hand
A shining little one, and all his band
Trooping about him like a flock of quails.
With necks bowed low, and hid to half their length
Under the jutting load of new-made hay,
I see the oxen give their liberal strength
Day after day,
And see the mower stay
His scythe, and leave a patch of grass to spread
Its shelter round the bed
Of the poor frighted ground-bird in his way.
I see the joyous vine,
And see the wheat set up its rustling spears,
And see the sun with golden fingers sign
The promise of full ears.
And see the wheat set up its rustling spears,
And see the sun with golden fingers sign
The promise of full ears.
I see the slender moon
Time after time grow old and round in th' face,
And see the autumn take the summer's place,
And shake the ripe nuts down,
In their thick, bitter hulls of green and brown,
To make the periods of the school-boy's tune;
I see the apples, with their russet cheeks
Shaming the wealth of June;
And see the bean-pods, gay with purple freaks,
And all the hills with yellow leaves o'erblown,
As through the fading woods I walk alone,
And hear the wind o'erhead
Touching the joyless boughs and making moan,
Like some old crone,
Who on her withered fingers counts her dead.
Time after time grow old and round in th' face,
And see the autumn take the summer's place,
And shake the ripe nuts down,
In their thick, bitter hulls of green and brown,
To make the periods of the school-boy's tune;
I see the apples, with their russet cheeks
Shaming the wealth of June;
And see the bean-pods, gay with purple freaks,
And all the hills with yellow leaves o'erblown,
As through the fading woods I walk alone,
And hear the wind o'erhead
Touching the joyless boughs and making moan,
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Who on her withered fingers counts her dead.
I hear the beetle's hum, and see the gnats
Sagging along the air in strings of jet,
And from their stubs I see the weak-eyed bats
Flying an hour before the sun is set.
Picture on picture crowds,
And by the gray and priestlike silence led,
Comes the first star through evening's steely gates
And chides the day to bed
Within the ruddy curtains of the clouds;
So gently com'st thou, Death,
To him who waits,
In the assurance of our blessed faith,
To be acquainted with thy quiet arms,
His good deeds, great and small,
Builded about him like a silver wall,
And bearing back the deluge of alarms.
Sagging along the air in strings of jet,
And from their stubs I see the weak-eyed bats
Flying an hour before the sun is set.
Picture on picture crowds,
And by the gray and priestlike silence led,
Comes the first star through evening's steely gates
And chides the day to bed
Within the ruddy curtains of the clouds;
So gently com'st thou, Death,
To him who waits,
In the assurance of our blessed faith,
To be acquainted with thy quiet arms,
His good deeds, great and small,
Builded about him like a silver wall,
And bearing back the deluge of alarms.
The mother doth not tenderer appear
When, from her heart her tired darling laid,
She trims his cradle all about with shade,
And will not kiss his sleepy eyes for fear.
When, from her heart her tired darling laid,
She trims his cradle all about with shade,
And will not kiss his sleepy eyes for fear.
I see the windows of the homestead bright
With the warm evening light,
And by the winter fire
I see the gray-haired sire
Serenely sitting,
Forgetful of the work-day toil and care,
The old wife by his elbow, at her knitting;
The cricket on the hearth-stone singing shrill,
And the spoiled darling of the house at will
Climbing the good man's chair,
A furtive glimpse to catch
Of her fair face in his round silver watch,
That she in her high privilege must wear,
And listen to the music that is in it,
Though only for a minute.
I thank thee, Lord, for every saddest cross;
Gain comes to us through loss,
The while we go,
Blind travelers holding by the wall of time,
And seeking out through woe
The things that are eternal and sublime.
With the warm evening light,
And by the winter fire
I see the gray-haired sire
Serenely sitting,
Forgetful of the work-day toil and care,
The old wife by his elbow, at her knitting;
The cricket on the hearth-stone singing shrill,
And the spoiled darling of the house at will
Climbing the good man's chair,
A furtive glimpse to catch
Of her fair face in his round silver watch,
That she in her high privilege must wear,
And listen to the music that is in it,
Though only for a minute.
I thank thee, Lord, for every saddest cross;
Gain comes to us through loss,
The while we go,
Blind travelers holding by the wall of time,
And seeking out through woe
The things that are eternal and sublime.
Ah! sad are they of whom no poet writes
Nor ever any story-teller hears,—
The childless mothers, who on lonesome nights
Sit by their fires and weep, having the chores
Done for the day, and time enough to see
All the wide floors
Swept clean of playthings; they, as needs must be,
Have time enough for tears.
Nor ever any story-teller hears,—
The childless mothers, who on lonesome nights
Sit by their fires and weep, having the chores
Done for the day, and time enough to see
All the wide floors
Swept clean of playthings; they, as needs must be,
Have time enough for tears.
But there are griefs more sad
Than ever any childless mother had,—
You know them, who do smother Nature's cries
Under poor masks
Of smiling, slow despair,—
Who put your white and unadorning hair
Out of your way, and keep at homely tasks,
Unblest with any praises of men's eyes,
Till Death comes to you with his piteous care,
And to unmarriageable beds you go,
Saying, “It is not much; 't is well, if so
We only be made fair
And looks of love await us when we rise.”
Than ever any childless mother had,—
You know them, who do smother Nature's cries
Under poor masks
Of smiling, slow despair,—
Who put your white and unadorning hair
Out of your way, and keep at homely tasks,
Unblest with any praises of men's eyes,
Till Death comes to you with his piteous care,
And to unmarriageable beds you go,
Saying, “It is not much; 't is well, if so
We only be made fair
And looks of love await us when we rise.”
My cross is not as hard as theirs to bear,
And yet alike to me are storms, or calms;
My life's young joy,
The brown-cheeked farmer-boy,
Who led the daisies with him like his lambs,—
Carved his sweet picture on my milking-pail,
And cut my name upon his threshing-flail,
One day stopped singing at his plough; alas!
Before that summer-time was gone, the grass
Had choked the path which to the sheep-field led,
Where I had watched him tread
So oft on evening's trail,—
A shining oat-sheaf balanced on his head,
And nodding to the gale.
And yet alike to me are storms, or calms;
My life's young joy,
The brown-cheeked farmer-boy,
Who led the daisies with him like his lambs,—
Carved his sweet picture on my milking-pail,
And cut my name upon his threshing-flail,
One day stopped singing at his plough; alas!
Before that summer-time was gone, the grass
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Where I had watched him tread
So oft on evening's trail,—
A shining oat-sheaf balanced on his head,
And nodding to the gale.
Rough wintry weather came, and when it sped,
The emerald wave
Swelling above my little sweetheart's grave,
With such bright, bubbly flowers was set about,
I thought he blew them out,
And so took comfort that he was not dead.
The emerald wave
Swelling above my little sweetheart's grave,
With such bright, bubbly flowers was set about,
I thought he blew them out,
And so took comfort that he was not dead.
For I was of a rude and ignorant crew,
And hence believed whatever things I saw
Were the expression of a hidden law;
And, with a wisdom wiser than I knew,
Evoked the simple meanings out of things
By childlike questionings.
And hence believed whatever things I saw
Were the expression of a hidden law;
And, with a wisdom wiser than I knew,
Evoked the simple meanings out of things
By childlike questionings.
And he they named with shudderings of fear
Had never, in his life, been half so near
As when I sat all day with cheeks unkissed,
And listened to the whisper, very low,
That said our love above death's wave of woe
Was joined together like the seamless mist.
Had never, in his life, been half so near
As when I sat all day with cheeks unkissed,
And listened to the whisper, very low,
That said our love above death's wave of woe
Was joined together like the seamless mist.
God's yea and nay
Are not so far away,
I said, but I can hear them when I please;
Nor could I understand
Their doubting faith, who only touch his hand
Across the blind, bewildering centuries.
Are not so far away,
I said, but I can hear them when I please;
Nor could I understand
Their doubting faith, who only touch his hand
Across the blind, bewildering centuries.
And often yet, upon the shining track
Of the old faith, come back
My childish fancies, never quite subdued;
And when the sunset shuts up in the wood
The whispery sweetness of uncertainty,
And Night, with misty locks that loosely drop
About his ears, brings rest, a welcome boon,
Playing his pipe with many a starry stop
That makes a golden snarling in his tune;
Of the old faith, come back
My childish fancies, never quite subdued;
And when the sunset shuts up in the wood
The whispery sweetness of uncertainty,
And Night, with misty locks that loosely drop
About his ears, brings rest, a welcome boon,
Playing his pipe with many a starry stop
That makes a golden snarling in his tune;
I see my little lad
Under the leafy shelter of the boughs,
Driving his noiseless, visionary cows,
Clad in a beauty I alone can see:
Laugh, you, who never had
Your dead come back, but do not take from me
The harmless comfort of my foolish dream,
That these, our mortal eyes,
Which outwardly reflect the earth and skies
Do introvert upon eternity:
Under the leafy shelter of the boughs,
Driving his noiseless, visionary cows,
Clad in a beauty I alone can see:
Laugh, you, who never had
Your dead come back, but do not take from me
The harmless comfort of my foolish dream,
That these, our mortal eyes,
Which outwardly reflect the earth and skies
Do introvert upon eternity:
And that the shapes you deem
Imaginations, just as clearly fall;
Each from its own divine original,
And through some subtle element of light,
Upon the inward, spiritual eye,
As do the things which round about them lie,
Gross and material, on the external sight.
Imaginations, just as clearly fall;
Each from its own divine original,
And through some subtle element of light,
Upon the inward, spiritual eye,
As do the things which round about them lie,
Gross and material, on the external sight.
[Hope in our hearts doth only stay]
Hope in our hearts doth only stay
Like a traveler at an inn,
Who riseth up at the break of day
His journey to begin.
Like a traveler at an inn,
Who riseth up at the break of day
His journey to begin.
Faith, when her soul has known the blight
Of noisy doubts and fears,
Goes thenceforward clad in the light
Of the still eternal years.
Of noisy doubts and fears,
Goes thenceforward clad in the light
Of the still eternal years.
Truth is truth: no more in the prayers
Of the righteous Pharisee;
No less in the humblest sinner that wears
This poor mortality.
Of the righteous Pharisee;
No less in the humblest sinner that wears
This poor mortality.
But Love is greatest of all: no loss
Can shadow its face with gloom,—
As glorious hanging on the cross
As breaking out of the tomb.
Can shadow its face with gloom,—
As glorious hanging on the cross
As breaking out of the tomb.
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MORNING.
Wake, Dillie, my darling, and kiss me,
The daybreak is nigh,—
I can see, through the half-open curtain,
A strip of blue sky.
The daybreak is nigh,—
I can see, through the half-open curtain,
A strip of blue sky.
Yon lake, in her valley-bed lying,
Looks fair as a bride,
And pushes, to greet the sun's coming,
The mist sheets aside.
Looks fair as a bride,
And pushes, to greet the sun's coming,
The mist sheets aside.
The birds, to the wood-temple flying,
Their matins to chant,
Are chirping their love to each other,
With wings dropt aslant.
Their matins to chant,
Are chirping their love to each other,
With wings dropt aslant.
Not a tree, that the morning's bright edges
With silver illumes,
But trembles and stirs with its pleasure
Through all its green plumes.
With silver illumes,
But trembles and stirs with its pleasure
Through all its green plumes.
Wake, Dillie, and join in the praises
All nature doth give;
Clap hands, and rejoice in the goodness
That leaves you to live.
All nature doth give;
Clap hands, and rejoice in the goodness
That leaves you to live.
For what is the world in her glory
To that which thou art?
Thank God for the soul that is in you,—
Thank God for your heart!
To that which thou art?
Thank God for the soul that is in you,—
Thank God for your heart!
The world that had never a lover
Her bright face to kiss,—
With her splendors of stars and of noontides
How poor is her bliss!
Her bright face to kiss,—
With her splendors of stars and of noontides
How poor is her bliss!
Wake, Dillie,—the white vest of morning
With crimson is laced:
And why should delights of God's giving
Be running to waste!
With crimson is laced:
And why should delights of God's giving
Be running to waste!
Full measures, pressed down, are awaiting
Our provident use;
And is there no sin in neglecting
As well as abuse?
Our provident use;
And is there no sin in neglecting
As well as abuse?
The cornstalk exults in its tassel,
The flint in its spark,—
And shall the seed planted within me
Rot out in the dark?
The flint in its spark,—
And shall the seed planted within me
Rot out in the dark?
Shall I be ashamed to give culture
To what God has sown?
When nature asks bread, shall I offer
A serpent, or stone?
To what God has sown?
When nature asks bread, shall I offer
A serpent, or stone?
For could I out-weary its yearnings
By fasting, or pain,—
Would life have a better fulfillment,
Or death have a gain?
By fasting, or pain,—
Would life have a better fulfillment,
Or death have a gain?
Nay, God will not leave us unanswered
In any true need;
His will may be writ in an instinct,
As well as a creed.
In any true need;
His will may be writ in an instinct,
As well as a creed.
And, Dillie, my darling, believe me,
That life is the best,
That, loving here, truly and sweetly,
With Him leaves the rest.
That life is the best,
That, loving here, truly and sweetly,
With Him leaves the rest.
Its head to the sweep of the whirlwind
The wise willow suits,—
While the oak, that 's too stubborn for bending.
Comes up by the roots.
The wise willow suits,—
While the oak, that 's too stubborn for bending.
Comes up by the roots.
Such lessons, each day, round about us,
Our good Mother writes,—
To show us that Nature, in some way,
Avenges her slights.
Our good Mother writes,—
To show us that Nature, in some way,
Avenges her slights.
ONE DUST.
Thou, under Satan's fierce control,
Shall Heaven its final rest bestow?
I know not, but I know a soul
That might have fallen as darkly low.
Shall Heaven its final rest bestow?
I know not, but I know a soul
That might have fallen as darkly low.
I judge thee not, what depths of ill
Soe'er thy feet have found, or trod:
I know a spirit and a will
As weak, but for the grace of God.
Soe'er thy feet have found, or trod:
I know a spirit and a will
As weak, but for the grace of God.
Shalt thou with full-day laborers stand.
Who hardly canst have pruned one vine?
I know not, but I know a hand
With an infirmity like thine.
Who hardly canst have pruned one vine?
I know not, but I know a hand
With an infirmity like thine.
Shalt thou who hast with scoffers part,
E'er wear the crown the Christian wears?
I know not; but I know a heart
As flinty, but for tears and prayers.
E'er wear the crown the Christian wears?
I know not; but I know a heart
As flinty, but for tears and prayers.
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Have mercy, O thou Crucified!
For even while I name thy name,
I know a tongue that might have lied
Like Peter's, and am bowed with shame.
For even while I name thy name,
I know a tongue that might have lied
Like Peter's, and am bowed with shame.
Fighters of good fights,—just, unjust,—
The weak who faint, the frail who fall,—
Of one blood, of the self-same dust,
Thou, God of love, hast made them all.
The weak who faint, the frail who fall,—
Of one blood, of the self-same dust,
Thou, God of love, hast made them all.
SIGNS OF GRACE.
Come thou, my heavy soul, and lay
Thy sorrows all aside,
And let us see, if so we may,
How God is glorified.
Thy sorrows all aside,
And let us see, if so we may,
How God is glorified.
Forget the storms that darkly beat,
Forget the woe and crime,
And tie of consolations sweet
A posie for the time.
Forget the woe and crime,
And tie of consolations sweet
A posie for the time.
Some blessed token everywhere
Doth grace to men allow;
The daisy sets her silver share
Beside the rustic's plough.
Doth grace to men allow;
The daisy sets her silver share
Beside the rustic's plough.
The wintry wind that naked strips
The bushes, stoopeth low,
And round their rugged arms enwraps
The fleeces of the snow.
The bushes, stoopeth low,
And round their rugged arms enwraps
The fleeces of the snow.
The blackbird, idly whistling till
The storm begins to pour,
Finds ever with his golden bill
A hospitable door.
The storm begins to pour,
Finds ever with his golden bill
A hospitable door.
From love, and love's protecting power
We cannot go apart;
The shadows round the fainting flower
Rebuke the drooping heart.
We cannot go apart;
The shadows round the fainting flower
Rebuke the drooping heart.
Our strivings are not reckoned less,
Although we fail to win;
The lily wears a royal dress,
And yet she doth not spin.
Although we fail to win;
The lily wears a royal dress,
And yet she doth not spin.
So, soul, forget thy evil days,
Thy sorrow lay aside,
And strive to see in all his ways
How God is glorified.
Thy sorrow lay aside,
And strive to see in all his ways
How God is glorified.
JANUARY.
The year has lost its leaves again,
The world looks old and grim;
God folds his robe of glory thus,
That we may see but Him.
The world looks old and grim;
God folds his robe of glory thus,
That we may see but Him.
And all his stormy messengers,
That come with whirlwind breath,
Beat out our chaff of vanity,
And leave the grains of faith.
That come with whirlwind breath,
Beat out our chaff of vanity,
And leave the grains of faith.
We will not feel, while summer waits
Her rich delights to share,
What sinners, miserably bad,—
How weak and poor we are.
Her rich delights to share,
What sinners, miserably bad,—
How weak and poor we are.
We tread through fields of speckled flowers
As if we did not know
Our Father made them beautiful,
Because He loves us so.
As if we did not know
Our Father made them beautiful,
Because He loves us so.
We hold his splendors in our hands
As if we held the dust,
And deal his judgment, as if man
Than God could be more just.
As if we held the dust,
And deal his judgment, as if man
Than God could be more just.
We seek, in prayers and penances,
To do the martyr's part,
Remembering not, the promises
Are to the pure in heart.
To do the martyr's part,
Remembering not, the promises
Are to the pure in heart.
From evil and forbidden things,
Some good we think to win,
And to the last analysis
Experiment with sin.
Some good we think to win,
And to the last analysis
Experiment with sin.
We seek no oil in summer time
Our winter lamp to trim,
But strive to bring God down to us,
More than to rise to Him.
Our winter lamp to trim,
But strive to bring God down to us,
More than to rise to Him.
And when that He is nearest, most
Our weak complaints we raise,
Lacking the wisdom to perceive
The mystery of his ways.
Our weak complaints we raise,
Lacking the wisdom to perceive
The mystery of his ways.
For, when drawn closest to himself,
Then least his love we mark;
The very wings that shelter us
From peril, make it dark.
Then least his love we mark;
The very wings that shelter us
From peril, make it dark.
Sometimes He takes his hands from us,
When storms the loudest blow,
That we may learn how weak, alone,—
How strong in Him, we grow.
When storms the loudest blow,
That we may learn how weak, alone,—
How strong in Him, we grow.
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Through the cross iron of our free will
And fate, we plead for light,
As if God gave us not enough
To do our work aright.
And fate, we plead for light,
As if God gave us not enough
To do our work aright.
We will not see, but madly take
The wrong and crooked path,
And in our own hearts light the fires
Of a consuming wrath.
The wrong and crooked path,
And in our own hearts light the fires
Of a consuming wrath.
The fashion of his Providence
Our way is so above,
We serve Him most who take the most
Of his exhaustless love.
Our way is so above,
We serve Him most who take the most
Of his exhaustless love.
We serve Him in the good we do,
The blessings we embrace,
Not lighting farthing candles for
The palace of his grace.
The blessings we embrace,
Not lighting farthing candles for
The palace of his grace.
He has no need of our poor aid
His purpose to pursue;
'T is for our pleasure, not for his,
That we his work must do.
His purpose to pursue;
'T is for our pleasure, not for his,
That we his work must do.
Then blow, O wild winds, as ye list,
And let the world look grim,—
God folds his robe of glory thus
That we may see but Him.
And let the world look grim,—
God folds his robe of glory thus
That we may see but Him.
ALONE.
What shall I do when I stand in my place,
Unclothed of this garment of cloud and dust,
Unclothed of this garment of selfish lust,
With my Maker, face to face?
Unclothed of this garment of cloud and dust,
Unclothed of this garment of selfish lust,
With my Maker, face to face?
What shall I say for my worldly pride?
What for the things I have done and not done?
There will be no cloud then over the sun,
And no grave wherein to hide.
What for the things I have done and not done?
There will be no cloud then over the sun,
And no grave wherein to hide.
No time for waiting, no time for prayer,—
No friend that with me my life-path trod
To help me,—only my soul and my God,
And all my sins laid bare.
No friend that with me my life-path trod
To help me,—only my soul and my God,
And all my sins laid bare.
No dear human pity, no low loving speech,
About me that terrible day shall there be,
Remitted back into myself, I shall see
All sweetest things out of reach.
About me that terrible day shall there be,
Remitted back into myself, I shall see
All sweetest things out of reach.
But why should I tremble before th' unknown,
And put off the blushing and shame? Now,—to-day!
The friend close beside me seems far, far away,
And I stand at God's judgment alone!
And put off the blushing and shame? Now,—to-day!
The friend close beside me seems far, far away,
And I stand at God's judgment alone!
A PRAYER.
I have been little used to frame
Wishes to speech and call it prayer;
To-day, my Father, in thy name,
I ask to have my soul stript bare
Of all its vain pretense,—to see
Myself, as I am seen by thee.
Wishes to speech and call it prayer;
To-day, my Father, in thy name,
I ask to have my soul stript bare
Of all its vain pretense,—to see
Myself, as I am seen by thee.
I want to know how much the pain
And passion here, its powers abate;
To take its thoughts, a tangled skein,
And stretch them out all smooth and straight;
To track its wavering course through sin
And sorrow, to its origin.
And passion here, its powers abate;
To take its thoughts, a tangled skein,
And stretch them out all smooth and straight;
To track its wavering course through sin
And sorrow, to its origin.
I want to know if in the night
Of evil, grace doth so abound,
That from its darkness we draw light,
As flowers do beauty from the ground;
Or, if the sins of time shall be
The shadows of eternity.
Of evil, grace doth so abound,
That from its darkness we draw light,
As flowers do beauty from the ground;
Or, if the sins of time shall be
The shadows of eternity.
I want, though only for an hour,
To be myself,—to get more near
The wondrous mystery and power
Of love, whose echoes floating here,
Between us and the waiting grave,
Make all of light, of heaven, we have.
To be myself,—to get more near
The wondrous mystery and power
Of love, whose echoes floating here,
Between us and the waiting grave,
Make all of light, of heaven, we have.
COUNSEL.
Though sin hath marked thy brother's brow
Love him in sin's despite,
But for his darkness, haply thou
Hadst never known the light.
Love him in sin's despite,
But for his darkness, haply thou
Hadst never known the light.
240
Be thou an angel to his life,
And not a demon grim,—
Since with himself he is at strife,
Oh be at peace with him.
And not a demon grim,—
Since with himself he is at strife,
Oh be at peace with him.
Speak gently of his evil ways
And all his pleas allow,
For since he knows not why he strays
From virtue, how shouldst thou?
And all his pleas allow,
For since he knows not why he strays
From virtue, how shouldst thou?
Love him, though all thy love he slights,
For ah, thou canst not say
But that his prayerless days and nights
Have taught thee how to pray.
For ah, thou canst not say
But that his prayerless days and nights
Have taught thee how to pray.
Outside themselves all things have laws,
The atom and the sun,—
Thou art thyself, perhaps, the cause
Of sins which he has done.
The atom and the sun,—
Thou art thyself, perhaps, the cause
Of sins which he has done.
If guiltless thou, why surely then
Thy place is by his side.—
It was for sinners, not just men,
That Christ the Saviour died.
Thy place is by his side.—
It was for sinners, not just men,
That Christ the Saviour died.
SUPPLICATION.
Dear gracious Lord, if that thy pain
Doth make me well, if I have strayed
Past mercy, let my hands be laid
One in the other; not in vain
Would I be dressed, Lord, in the beauteous clay
Which thou did'st put away.
Doth make me well, if I have strayed
Past mercy, let my hands be laid
One in the other; not in vain
Would I be dressed, Lord, in the beauteous clay
Which thou did'st put away.
But if thou yet canst find in me
A vine, though trailing on the ground,
That might be straightened up, and bound
To any good, so let it be;
And, haply at the last, some tendril-ring
Unto thy hand shall cling.
A vine, though trailing on the ground,
That might be straightened up, and bound
To any good, so let it be;
And, haply at the last, some tendril-ring
Unto thy hand shall cling.
I have been too much used, I know,
To tell my needs in fretful words.
The clamoring of the silly birds,
Impatient for their wings to grow,
Has thy forgiveness; O my blessed Lord,
The like to me accord.
To tell my needs in fretful words.
The clamoring of the silly birds,
Impatient for their wings to grow,
Has thy forgiveness; O my blessed Lord,
The like to me accord.
Of grace, as much as will complete
Thy will in me, I pray thee for;
Even as a rose shut in a drawer,
That maketh all about it sweet,
I would be, rather than the cedar, fine,
Help me, thou Power divine.
Thy will in me, I pray thee for;
Even as a rose shut in a drawer,
That maketh all about it sweet,
I would be, rather than the cedar, fine,
Help me, thou Power divine.
Fill thou my heart with love as full
As any lily with the rain;
Unteach me ever to complain,
And make my scarlet sins as wool;
Yea, wash me, even with sorrows, clean and fair,
As lightnings do the air.
As any lily with the rain;
Unteach me ever to complain,
And make my scarlet sins as wool;
Yea, wash me, even with sorrows, clean and fair,
As lightnings do the air.
PUTTING OFF THE ARMOR.
Why weep ye for the falling
Of the transient twilight gloom?
I am weary of the journey,
And have come in sight of home.
Of the transient twilight gloom?
I am weary of the journey,
And have come in sight of home.
I can see a white procession
Sweep melodiously along,
And I would not have your mourning
Drown the sweetness of their song.
Sweep melodiously along,
And I would not have your mourning
Drown the sweetness of their song.
The battle-strife is ended;
I have scaled the hindering wall,
And am putting off the armor
Of the soldier—that is all!
I have scaled the hindering wall,
And am putting off the armor
Of the soldier—that is all!
Would you hide me from my pleasures?
Would you hold me from my rest?
From my serving and my waiting
I am called to be a guest!
Would you hold me from my rest?
From my serving and my waiting
I am called to be a guest!
Of its heavy, hurtful burdens
Now my spirit is released:
I am done with fasts and scourges,
And am bidden to the feast.
Now my spirit is released:
I am done with fasts and scourges,
And am bidden to the feast.
While you see the sun descending,
While you lose me in the night,
Lo, the heavenly morn is breaking,
And my soul is in the light.
While you lose me in the night,
Lo, the heavenly morn is breaking,
And my soul is in the light.
I from faith to sight am rising
While in deeps of doubt you sink;
'T is the glory that divides us,
Not the darkness, as you think.
While in deeps of doubt you sink;
'T is the glory that divides us,
Not the darkness, as you think.
Then lift up your drooping eyelids,
And take heart of better cheer;
'T is the cloud of coming spirits
Makes the shadows that ye fear.
And take heart of better cheer;
'T is the cloud of coming spirits
Makes the shadows that ye fear.
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Oh, they come to bear me upward
To the mansion of the sky,
And to change as I am changing
Is to live, and not to die;
To the mansion of the sky,
And to change as I am changing
Is to live, and not to die;
Is to leave the pain, the sickness,
And the smiting of the rod,
And to dwell among the angels,
In the City of our God.
And the smiting of the rod,
And to dwell among the angels,
In the City of our God.
FORGIVENESS.
O thou who dost the sinner meet,Fearing his garment's hem,
Think of the Master, and repeat,
“Neither do I condemn!”
And while the eager rabble stay,
Their storms of wrath to pour,
Think of the Master still, and say,
“Go thou, and sin no more!”
THE GOLDEN MEAN.
Lest to evil ways I run
When I go abroad,
Shine about me, like the sun,
O my gracious Lord!
Make the clouds, with silver glowing,
Like a mist of lilies blowing
O'er the summer sward;
And mine eyes keep thou from being
Ever satisfied with seeing,
O my light, my Lord!
When I go abroad,
Shine about me, like the sun,
O my gracious Lord!
Make the clouds, with silver glowing,
Like a mist of lilies blowing
O'er the summer sward;
And mine eyes keep thou from being
Ever satisfied with seeing,
O my light, my Lord!
Lest my thoughts on discontent
Should in sleep be fed,
Make the darkness like a tent
Round about my bed:
Sweet as honey to the taster,
Make my dreams be, O my Master,
Sweet as honey, ere it loses
Spice of meadow-blooms,
While the taster tastes the roses
In the golden combs.
Should in sleep be fed,
Make the darkness like a tent
Round about my bed:
Sweet as honey to the taster,
Make my dreams be, O my Master,
Sweet as honey, ere it loses
Spice of meadow-blooms,
While the taster tastes the roses
In the golden combs.
Lest I live in lowly ease,
Or in loftly scorn,
Make me like the strawberries
That run among the corn;
Grateful in the shadows keeping,
Of the broad leaves o'er me sweeping;
In the gold crop's stead, to render
Some small berries, red and tender,
Like the blushing morn.
Or in loftly scorn,
Make me like the strawberries
That run among the corn;
Grateful in the shadows keeping,
Of the broad leaves o'er me sweeping;
In the gold crop's stead, to render
Some small berries, red and tender,
Like the blushing morn.
Lest that pain to pain be placed—
Weary day to day,
Let me sit at good men's feasts
When the house is gay:
Let my heart beat up to measures
Of all comfortable pleasures,
Till the morning gray,
O'er the eastern hill-tops glancing,
Sets the woodlands all to dancing,
And scares night away.
Weary day to day,
Let me sit at good men's feasts
When the house is gay:
Let my heart beat up to measures
Of all comfortable pleasures,
Till the morning gray,
O'er the eastern hill-tops glancing,
Sets the woodlands all to dancing,
And scares night away.
Lest that I in vain pretense
Careless live and move,
Heart and mind, and soul and sense,
Quicken thou with love!
Fold its music over, under,
Breath of flute and boom of thunder,
Nor make satisfied my hearing
As I go on, nearing, nearing
Him whose name is Love.
Careless live and move,
Heart and mind, and soul and sense,
Quicken thou with love!
Fold its music over, under,
Breath of flute and boom of thunder,
Nor make satisfied my hearing
As I go on, nearing, nearing
Him whose name is Love.
THE FIRE BY THE SEA.
There were seven fishers, with nets in their hands,
And they walked and talked by the sea-side sands;
Yet sweet as the sweet dew-fall
The words they spake, though they spake so low,
Across the long, dim centuries, flow,
And we know them, one and all—
Aye! know them and love them all.
And they walked and talked by the sea-side sands;
Yet sweet as the sweet dew-fall
The words they spake, though they spake so low,
Across the long, dim centuries, flow,
And we know them, one and all—
Aye! know them and love them all.
Seven sad men in the days of old,
And one was gentle, and one was bold,
And they walked with downward eyes;
The bold was Peter, the gentle was John,
And they all were sad, it for the Lord was gone,
And they knew not if He would rise—
Knew not if the dead would rise.
And one was gentle, and one was bold,
And they walked with downward eyes;
The bold was Peter, the gentle was John,
And they all were sad, it for the Lord was gone,
And they knew not if He would rise—
Knew not if the dead would rise.
The livelong night, till the moon went out
In the drowning waters, they beat about;
Beat slow through the fog their way;
And the sails drooped down with wringing wet,
And no man drew but an empty net,
And now 'twas the break of the day—
The great, glad break of the day.
In the drowning waters, they beat about;
Beat slow through the fog their way;
And the sails drooped down with wringing wet,
242
And now 'twas the break of the day—
The great, glad break of the day.
“Cast in your nets on the other side!”
('T was Jesus speaking across the tide;)
And they cast and were dragging hard;
But that disciple whom Jesus loved
Cried straightway out, for his heart was moved:
“It is our risen Lord—
Our Master, and our Lord!”
('T was Jesus speaking across the tide;)
And they cast and were dragging hard;
But that disciple whom Jesus loved
Cried straightway out, for his heart was moved:
“It is our risen Lord—
Our Master, and our Lord!”
Then Simon, girding his fisher's coat,
Went over the nets and out of the boat—
Aye! first of them all was he;
Repenting sore the denial past,
He feared no longer his heart to cast
Like an anchor into the sea—
Down deep in the hungry sea.
Went over the nets and out of the boat—
Aye! first of them all was he;
Repenting sore the denial past,
He feared no longer his heart to cast
Like an anchor into the sea—
Down deep in the hungry sea.
And the others, through the mists so dim,
In a little ship came after him,
Dragging their net through the tide;
And when they had gotten close to the land
They saw a fire of coals on the sand,
And, with arms of love so wide,
Jesus, the crucified!
In a little ship came after him,
Dragging their net through the tide;
And when they had gotten close to the land
They saw a fire of coals on the sand,
And, with arms of love so wide,
Jesus, the crucified!
'T is long, and long, and long ago
Since the rosy lights began to flow
O'er the hills of Galilee;
And with eager eyes and lifted hands
The seven fishers saw on the sands
The fire of coals by the sea—
On the wet, wild sands by the sea.
Since the rosy lights began to flow
O'er the hills of Galilee;
And with eager eyes and lifted hands
The seven fishers saw on the sands
The fire of coals by the sea—
On the wet, wild sands by the sea.
'T is long ago, yet faith in our souls
Is kindled just by that fire of coals
That streamed o'er the mists of the sea;
Where Peter, girding his fisher's coat,
Went over the nets and out of the boat,
To answer, “Lov'st thou me?”
Thrice over, “Lov'st thou me?”
Is kindled just by that fire of coals
That streamed o'er the mists of the sea;
Where Peter, girding his fisher's coat,
Went over the nets and out of the boat,
To answer, “Lov'st thou me?”
Thrice over, “Lov'st thou me?”
THE SURE WITNESS.
The solemn wood had spread
Shadows around my head;
“Curtains they are,” I said,
“Hung dim and still about the house of prayer.”
Softly among the limbs,
Turning the leaves of hymns,
I heard the winds, and asked if God were there.
No voice replied, but while I listening stood,
Sweet peace made holy hushes through the wood.
Shadows around my head;
“Curtains they are,” I said,
“Hung dim and still about the house of prayer.”
Softly among the limbs,
Turning the leaves of hymns,
I heard the winds, and asked if God were there.
No voice replied, but while I listening stood,
Sweet peace made holy hushes through the wood.
With ruddy, open hand,
I saw the wild rose stand
Beside the green gate of the summer hills;
And pulling at her dress,
I cried, “Sweet hermitess,
Hast thou beheld Him who the dew distills?”
No voice replied, but while I listening bent,
Her gracious beauty made my heart content.
I saw the wild rose stand
Beside the green gate of the summer hills;
And pulling at her dress,
I cried, “Sweet hermitess,
Hast thou beheld Him who the dew distills?”
No voice replied, but while I listening bent,
Her gracious beauty made my heart content.
The moon in splendor shone;
“She walketh heaven alone,
And seeth all things,” to myself I mused;
“Hast thou beheld Him, then,
Who hides Himself from men
In that great power through nature interfused?”
No speech made answer, and no sign appeared,
But in the silence I was soothed and cheered.
“She walketh heaven alone,
And seeth all things,” to myself I mused;
“Hast thou beheld Him, then,
Who hides Himself from men
In that great power through nature interfused?”
No speech made answer, and no sign appeared,
But in the silence I was soothed and cheered.
Waking one time, strange awe
Thrilling my soul, I saw
A kingly splendor round about the night;
Such cunning work the hand
Of spinner never planned,—
The finest wool may not be washed so white.
“Hast thou come out of heaven?” I asked; and lo!
The snow was all the answer of the snow.
Thrilling my soul, I saw
A kingly splendor round about the night;
Such cunning work the hand
Of spinner never planned,—
The finest wool may not be washed so white.
“Hast thou come out of heaven?” I asked; and lo!
The snow was all the answer of the snow.
Then my heart said, “Give o'er;
Question no more, no more!
The wind, the snow-storm, the wild hermit flower,
The illuminated air,
The pleasure after prayer,
Proclaim the unoriginated Power!
The mystery that hides Him here and there.
Bears the sure witness He is everywhere.”
Question no more, no more!
The wind, the snow-storm, the wild hermit flower,
The illuminated air,
The pleasure after prayer,
Proclaim the unoriginated Power!
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Bears the sure witness He is everywhere.”
A PENITENT'S PLEA.
Like a child that is lost
From its home in the night,
I grope through the darkness
And cry for the light;
Yea, all that is in me
Cries out for the day—
Come Jesus, my Master,
Illumine my way!
From its home in the night,
I grope through the darkness
And cry for the light;
Yea, all that is in me
Cries out for the day—
Come Jesus, my Master,
Illumine my way!
In the conflicts that pass
'Twixt my soul and my God,
I walk as one walketh
A fire-path, unshod;
And in my despairing
Sit dumb by the way—
Come Jesus, my Master,
And heal me, I pray!
'Twixt my soul and my God,
I walk as one walketh
A fire-path, unshod;
And in my despairing
Sit dumb by the way—
Come Jesus, my Master,
And heal me, I pray!
I know the fierce flames
Will not cease to uproll,
Till thou rainest the dew
Of thy love on my soul;
And I know the dumb spirit
Will never depart,
Till thou comest and makest
Thy house in my heart.
Will not cease to uproll,
Till thou rainest the dew
Of thy love on my soul;
And I know the dumb spirit
Will never depart,
Till thou comest and makest
Thy house in my heart.
My thoughts lie within me
As waste as the sands;
Oh make them be musical
Strings in thy hands!
My sins, red as scarlet,
Wash white as a fleece—
Come Jesus, my Master,
And give me thy peace!
As waste as the sands;
Oh make them be musical
Strings in thy hands!
My sins, red as scarlet,
Wash white as a fleece—
Come Jesus, my Master,
And give me thy peace!
LOVE IS LIFE.
Our days are few and full of strife;
Like leaves our pleasures fade and fall;
But Thou who art the all in all,
Thy name is Love, and love is Life!
Like leaves our pleasures fade and fall;
But Thou who art the all in all,
Thy name is Love, and love is Life!
We walk in sleep and think we see;
Our little lives are clothed with dreams;
For that to us which substance seems
Is shadow, 'twixt ourselves and thee.
Our little lives are clothed with dreams;
For that to us which substance seems
Is shadow, 'twixt ourselves and thee.
We are immortal now, and here,
Chances and changes, night and day,
Are landmarks in the eternal way;
Our fear is all we have to fear.
Chances and changes, night and day,
Are landmarks in the eternal way;
Our fear is all we have to fear.
Our lives are dew-drops in thy sun;
Thou breakest them, and lo! we see
A thousand gracious shapes of thee,—
A thousand shapes, instead of one.
Thou breakest them, and lo! we see
A thousand gracious shapes of thee,—
A thousand shapes, instead of one.
The soul that drifts all darkly dim
Through floods that seem outside of grace,
Is only surging toward the place
Which thou hast made and meant for him.
Through floods that seem outside of grace,
Is only surging toward the place
Which thou hast made and meant for him.
For this we hold,—ill could not be
Were there no power beyond the ill;
Our wills are held within thy will;
The ends of goodness rest with thee.
Were there no power beyond the ill;
Our wills are held within thy will;
The ends of goodness rest with thee.
Fall storms of winter as you may,
The dry boughs in the warm spring rain
Shall put their green leaves forth again,
And surely we are more than they.
The dry boughs in the warm spring rain
Shall put their green leaves forth again,
And surely we are more than they.
[Thy works, O Lord, interpret thee]
Thy works, O Lord, interpret thee,
And through them all thy love is shown;
Flowing about us like a sea,
Yet steadfast as the eternal throne.
And through them all thy love is shown;
Flowing about us like a sea,
Yet steadfast as the eternal throne.
Out of the light that runneth through
Thy hand, the lily's dress is spun;
Thine is the brightness of the dew,
And thine the glory of the sun.
Thy hand, the lily's dress is spun;
Thine is the brightness of the dew,
And thine the glory of the sun.
[Our God is love, and that which we miscall]
Our God is love, and that which we miscallEvil, in this good world that He has made,
Is meant to be a little tender shade
Between us and His glory,—that is all;
And he who loves the best his fellowman
Is loving God, the holiest way he can.
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TIME.
What is time, O glorious Giver,
With its restlessness and might,
But a lost and wandering river
Working back into the light?
With its restlessness and might,
But a lost and wandering river
Working back into the light?
Every gloomy rock that troubles
Its smooth passage, strikes to life
Beautiful and joyous bubbles
That are only born through strife.
Its smooth passage, strikes to life
Beautiful and joyous bubbles
That are only born through strife.
Overhung with mist-like shadows,
Stretch its shores away, away,
To the long, delightful meadows
Shining with immortal May:
Stretch its shores away, away,
To the long, delightful meadows
Shining with immortal May:
Where its moaning reaches never,
Passion, pain, or fear to move,
And the changes bring us ever
Sabbaths and new moons of love.
Passion, pain, or fear to move,
And the changes bring us ever
Sabbaths and new moons of love.
SUPPLICATION.
O thou, who all my life hast crowned
With better things than I could ask,
Be it to-day my humble task
To own from depths of grief profound,
The many sins, which darken through
What little good I do.
With better things than I could ask,
Be it to-day my humble task
To own from depths of grief profound,
The many sins, which darken through
What little good I do.
I have been too much used, I own,
To tell my needs in fretful words;
The clamoring of the silly birds,
Impatient till their wings be grown,
Have thy forgiveness. O my blessed Lord,
The like to me accord.
To tell my needs in fretful words;
The clamoring of the silly birds,
Impatient till their wings be grown,
Have thy forgiveness. O my blessed Lord,
The like to me accord.
Of grace, as much as will complete
Thy will in me. I pray thee for;
Even as a rose shut in a drawer
That maketh all about it sweet,
I would be, rather than the cedar fine:
Help me, thou Power divine.
Thy will in me. I pray thee for;
Even as a rose shut in a drawer
That maketh all about it sweet,
I would be, rather than the cedar fine:
Help me, thou Power divine.
With charity fill thou my heart,
As summer fills the grass with dews,
And as th' year itself renews
In th' sun, when winter days depart,
Blessed forever, grant thou me
To be renewed in thee.
As summer fills the grass with dews,
And as th' year itself renews
In th' sun, when winter days depart,
Blessed forever, grant thou me
To be renewed in thee.
WHITHER.
All the time my soul is calling,
“Whither, whither do I go?”
For my days like leaves are falling
From my tree of life below.
“Whither, whither do I go?”
For my days like leaves are falling
From my tree of life below.
Who will come and be my lover!
Who is strong enough to save,
When that I am leaning over
The dark silence of the grave?
Who is strong enough to save,
When that I am leaning over
The dark silence of the grave?
Wherefore should my soul be calling,
“Whither, whither do I go?”
For my days like leaves are falling
In the hand of God, I know.
“Whither, whither do I go?”
For my days like leaves are falling
In the hand of God, I know.
As the seasons touch their ending,
As the dim years fade and flee,
Let me rather still be sending
Some good deed to plead for me.
As the dim years fade and flee,
Let me rather still be sending
Some good deed to plead for me.
Then, though none should stay to weep me,
Lover-like, within the shade,
He will hold me, He will keep me,
And I will not be afraid.
Lover-like, within the shade,
He will hold me, He will keep me,
And I will not be afraid.
SURE ANCHOR.
Out of the heavens come down to me,
O Lord, and hear my earnest prayer;
On life above the life I see
Fix thou my soul, and keep it there.
O Lord, and hear my earnest prayer;
On life above the life I see
Fix thou my soul, and keep it there.
The richest joys of earth are poor;
The fairest forms are all unfair;
On what is peaceable and pure
Set thou my heart, and keep it there.
The fairest forms are all unfair;
On what is peaceable and pure
Set thou my heart, and keep it there.
Pride builds her house upon the sand;
Ambition treads the spider's stair;
On whatsoever things will stand
Set thou my feet, and keep them there.
Ambition treads the spider's stair;
On whatsoever things will stand
Set thou my feet, and keep them there.
The past is vanished in the past;
The future doth a shadow wear;
On whatsoever things are fast
Fix thou mine eyes, and keep them there.
The future doth a shadow wear;
On whatsoever things are fast
Fix thou mine eyes, and keep them there.
In spite of slander's tongue, in spite
Of burdens grievous hard to bear,
To whatsoever things are right
Set thou my hand, and keep it there.
Of burdens grievous hard to bear,
To whatsoever things are right
Set thou my hand, and keep it there.
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Life is a little troubled breath,
Love but another name for care;
Lord, anchor thou my hope and faith
In things eternal,—only there.
Love but another name for care;
Lord, anchor thou my hope and faith
In things eternal,—only there.
REMEMBER.
In thy time, and times of mourning,
When grief doeth all she can
To hide the prosperous sunshine,
Remember this, O man,—
“He setteth an end to darkness.”
When grief doeth all she can
To hide the prosperous sunshine,
Remember this, O man,—
“He setteth an end to darkness.”
Sad saint, of the world forgotten,
Who workest thy work apart,
Take thou this promise for comfort,
And hold it in thy heart,—
“He searcheth out all perfection.”
Who workest thy work apart,
Take thou this promise for comfort,
And hold it in thy heart,—
“He searcheth out all perfection.”
O foolish and faithless sailor,
When the ship is driven away,
When the waves forget their places,
And the anchor will not stay,—
“He weigheth the waters by measure.”
When the ship is driven away,
When the waves forget their places,
And the anchor will not stay,—
“He weigheth the waters by measure.”
O outcast, homeless, bewildered,
Let now thy murmurs be still,
Go in at the gates of gladness
And eat of the feast at will,—
“For wisdom is better than riches.”
Let now thy murmurs be still,
Go in at the gates of gladness
And eat of the feast at will,—
“For wisdom is better than riches.”
O diligent, diligent sower,
Who sowest thy seed in vain,
When the corn in the ear is withered,
And the young flax dies for rain,—
“Through rocks He cutteth out rivers.”
Who sowest thy seed in vain,
When the corn in the ear is withered,
And the young flax dies for rain,—
“Through rocks He cutteth out rivers.”
SUNDAY MORNING.
O day to sweet religious thought
So wisely set apart,
Back to the silent strength of life
Help thou my wavering heart.
So wisely set apart,
Back to the silent strength of life
Help thou my wavering heart.
Nor let the obtrusive lies of sense
My meditations draw
From the composed, majestic realm
Of everlasting law.
My meditations draw
From the composed, majestic realm
Of everlasting law.
Break down whatever hindering shapes
I see, or seem to see,
And make my soul acquainted with
Celestial company.
I see, or seem to see,
And make my soul acquainted with
Celestial company.
Beyond the wintry waste of death
Shine fields of heavenly light;
Let not this incident of time
Absorb me from their sight.
Shine fields of heavenly light;
Let not this incident of time
Absorb me from their sight.
I know these outward forms wherein
So much my hopes I stay,
Are but the shadowy hints of that
Which cannot pass away.
So much my hopes I stay,
Are but the shadowy hints of that
Which cannot pass away.
That just outside the work-day path
By man's volition trod,
Lie the resistless issues of
The things ordained of God.
By man's volition trod,
Lie the resistless issues of
The things ordained of God.
IN THE DARK.
Out of the earthly years we live
How small a profit springs;
I cannot think but life should give
Higher and better things.
How small a profit springs;
I cannot think but life should give
Higher and better things.
The very ground whereon we tread
Is clothed to please our sight;
I cannot think that we have read
Our dusty lesson right.
Is clothed to please our sight;
I cannot think that we have read
Our dusty lesson right.
So little comfort we receive,
Except through what we see,
I cannot think we half believe
Our immortality.
Except through what we see,
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Our immortality.
We disallow and trample so
The rights of poor weak men,
I cannot think we feel and know
They are our brethren.
The rights of poor weak men,
I cannot think we feel and know
They are our brethren.
So rarely our affections move
Without a selfish guard,
I cannot think we know that love
Is all of love's reward.
Without a selfish guard,
I cannot think we know that love
Is all of love's reward.
To him who smites, the cheek is turned
With such a slow consent,
I cannot think that we have learned
The holy Testament.
With such a slow consent,
I cannot think that we have learned
The holy Testament.
Blind, ignorant, we grope along
A path misunderstood,
Mingling with folly and with wrong
Some providential good.
A path misunderstood,
Mingling with folly and with wrong
Some providential good.
Striving with vain and idle strife
In outward shows to live,
We famish, knowing not that life
Has better things to give.
In outward shows to live,
We famish, knowing not that life
Has better things to give.
PARTING SONG.
The long day is closing,
Ah, why should you weep?
'T is thus that God gives
His beloved ones sleep.
Ah, why should you weep?
'T is thus that God gives
His beloved ones sleep.
I see the wide water
So deep and so black,—
Love waits me beyond it,—
I would not go back!
So deep and so black,—
Love waits me beyond it,—
I would not go back!
I would not go back
Where its joys scarce may gleam,—
Where even in dreaming
We know that we dream;
Where its joys scarce may gleam,—
Where even in dreaming
We know that we dream;
For though life filled for me
All measures of bliss,
Has it anything better
Or sweeter than this?
All measures of bliss,
Has it anything better
Or sweeter than this?
I would not go back
To the torment of fear,—
To the wastes of uncomfort
When home is so near.
To the torment of fear,—
To the wastes of uncomfort
When home is so near.
Each night is a prison-bar
Broken and gone,—
Each morning a golden gate,
On,—farther on!
Broken and gone,—
Each morning a golden gate,
On,—farther on!
On, on toward the city
So shining and fair;
And He that hath loved me—
Died for me—is there.
So shining and fair;
And He that hath loved me—
Died for me—is there.
THE HEAVEN THAT'S HERE.
My God, I feel thy wondrous might
In Nature's various shows.—
The whirlwind's breath,—the tender light
Of the rejoicing rose.
In Nature's various shows.—
The whirlwind's breath,—the tender light
Of the rejoicing rose.
For doth not that same power enfold
Whatever things are new,
Which shone about the saints of old
And struck the seas in two?
Whatever things are new,
Which shone about the saints of old
And struck the seas in two?
Ashamed, I veil my fearful eyes
From this, thy earthly reign;
What shall I do when I arise
From death, but die again.
From this, thy earthly reign;
What shall I do when I arise
From death, but die again.
What shall I do but prostrate fall
Before the splendor there,
That here, so dazzles me through all
The dusty robes I wear.
Before the splendor there,
That here, so dazzles me through all
The dusty robes I wear.
Life's outward and material laws,—
Love, sunshine, all things bright,—
Are curtains which thy mercy draws
To shield us from that light.
Love, sunshine, all things bright,—
Are curtains which thy mercy draws
To shield us from that light.
I falter when I try to seek
The world which these conceal;
I stammer when I fain would speak
The reverence that I feel.
The world which these conceal;
I stammer when I fain would speak
The reverence that I feel.
I dare not pray to thee to give
That heaven which shall appear;
My cry is, Help me, thou, to live
Within the heaven that's here.
That heaven which shall appear;
My cry is, Help me, thou, to live
Within the heaven that's here.
[Among the pitfalls in our way]
Among the pitfalls in our way
The best of us walk blindly;
O man, be wary! watch and pray,
And judge your brother kindly.
The best of us walk blindly;
O man, be wary! watch and pray,
And judge your brother kindly.
Help back his feet, if they have slid,
Nor count him still your debtor;
Perhaps the very wrong he did
Has made yourself the better.
Nor count him still your debtor;
Perhaps the very wrong he did
Has made yourself the better.
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THE STREAM OF LIFE.
The stream of life is going dry;
Thank God, that more and more
I see the golden sands, which I
Could never see before.
Thank God, that more and more
I see the golden sands, which I
Could never see before.
The banks are dark with graves of friends;
Thank God, for faith sublime
In the eternity that sends
Its shadows into time.
Thank God, for faith sublime
In the eternity that sends
Its shadows into time.
The flowres are gone that with their glow
Of sunshine filled the grass;
Thank God, they were but dim and low
Reflections in a glass.
Of sunshine filled the grass;
Thank God, they were but dim and low
Reflections in a glass.
The autumn winds are blowing chill;
The summer warmth is done;
Thank God, the little dew-drop still
Is drawn into the sun.
The summer warmth is done;
Thank God, the little dew-drop still
Is drawn into the sun.
Strange stream, to be exhaled so fast
In cloudy cares and tears;
Thank God, that it should shine at last
Along the immortal years.
In cloudy cares and tears;
Thank God, that it should shine at last
Along the immortal years.
DEAD AND ALIVE.
Till I learned to love thy name,
Lord, thy grace denying,
I was lost in sin and shame,
Dying, dying, dying!
Lord, thy grace denying,
I was lost in sin and shame,
Dying, dying, dying!
Nothing could the world impart;
Darkness held no morrow;
In my soul and in my heart
Sorrow, sorrow, sorrow!
Darkness held no morrow;
In my soul and in my heart
Sorrow, sorrow, sorrow!
All the blossoms came to blight;
Noon was dull and dreary;
Night and day, and day and night,
Weary, weary, weary!
Noon was dull and dreary;
Night and day, and day and night,
Weary, weary, weary!
When I learned to love thy name,
Peace beyond all measure
Came, and in the stead of shame,
Pleasure, pleasure, pleasure!
Peace beyond all measure
Came, and in the stead of shame,
Pleasure, pleasure, pleasure!
Winds may beat, and storms may fall,
Thou, the meek and lowly,
Reignest, and I sing through all,—
Holy, holy, holy!
Thou, the meek and lowly,
Reignest, and I sing through all,—
Holy, holy, holy!
Life may henceforth never be
Like a dismal story,
For beyond its bound I see
Glory, glory, glory!
Like a dismal story,
For beyond its bound I see
Glory, glory, glory!
INVOCATION.
Come down to us, help and heal us,
Thou that once life's pathway trod,
Knowing all its gloom and glory,—
Son of man, and Son of God.
Thou that once life's pathway trod,
Knowing all its gloom and glory,—
Son of man, and Son of God.
Come down to us, help and heal us,
When our hopes before us flee;
Thou hast been a man of sorrows,
Tried and tempted, even as we.
When our hopes before us flee;
Thou hast been a man of sorrows,
Tried and tempted, even as we.
By the weakness of our nature,
By the burdens of our care,
Steady up our fainting courage,—
Save, oh save us from despair!
By the burdens of our care,
Steady up our fainting courage,—
Save, oh save us from despair!
By the still and strong temptation
Of consenting hearts within;
By the power of outward evil,
Save, oh save us from our sin!
Of consenting hearts within;
By the power of outward evil,
Save, oh save us from our sin!
By the infirm and bowed together,—
By the demons far and near,—
By all sick and sad possessions,
Save, oh save us from our fear!
By the demons far and near,—
By all sick and sad possessions,
Save, oh save us from our fear!
From the dim and dreary doubting
That with faith a warfare make,
Save us, through thy sweet compassion,—
Save us, for thy own name's sake.
That with faith a warfare make,
Save us, through thy sweet compassion,—
Save us, for thy own name's sake.
And when all of life is finished
To the last low fainting breath,
Meet us in the awful shadows,
And deliver us from death.
To the last low fainting breath,
Meet us in the awful shadows,
And deliver us from death.
LIFE OF LIFE.
To Him who is the Life of life,
My soul its vows would pay;
He leads the flowery seasons on,
And gives the storm its way.
My soul its vows would pay;
He leads the flowery seasons on,
And gives the storm its way.
The winds run backward to their caves
At his divine command,—
And the great deep He folds within
The hollow of his hand.
At his divine command,—
248
The hollow of his hand.
He clothes the grass, He makes the rose
To wear her good attire;
The moon He gives her patient grace,
And all the stars their fire.
To wear her good attire;
The moon He gives her patient grace,
And all the stars their fire.
He hears the hungry raven's cry,
And sends her young their food,
And through our evil intimates
His purposes of good.
And sends her young their food,
And through our evil intimates
His purposes of good.
He stretches out the north, He binds
The tempest in his care;
The mountains cannot strike their roots
So deep He is not there.
The tempest in his care;
The mountains cannot strike their roots
So deep He is not there.
Hid in the garment of his works,
We feel his presence still
With us, and through us fashioning
The mystery of his will.
We feel his presence still
With us, and through us fashioning
The mystery of his will.
MERCIES.
Lest the great glory from on high
Should make our senses swim,
Our blessèd Lord hath spread the sky
Between ourselves and Him.
Should make our senses swim,
Our blessèd Lord hath spread the sky
Between ourselves and Him.
He made the Sabbath shine before
The work-days and the care,
And set about its golden door
The messengers of prayer.
The work-days and the care,
And set about its golden door
The messengers of prayer.
Across our earthly pleasures fled
He sends his heavenly light,
Like morning streaming broad and red
Adown the skirts of night.
He sends his heavenly light,
Like morning streaming broad and red
Adown the skirts of night.
He nearest comes when most his face
Is wrapt in clouds of gloom;
The firmest pillars of his grace
Are planted in the tomb.
Is wrapt in clouds of gloom;
The firmest pillars of his grace
Are planted in the tomb.
Oh shall we not the power of sin
And vanity withstand,
When thus our Father holds us in
The hollow of his hand?
And vanity withstand,
When thus our Father holds us in
The hollow of his hand?
PLEASURE AND PAIN.
Pleasure and pain walk hand in hand,
Each is the other's poise;
The borders of the silent land
Are full of troubled noise.
Each is the other's poise;
The borders of the silent land
Are full of troubled noise.
While harvests yellow as the day
In plenteous billows roll,
Men go about in blank dismay,
Hungry of heart and soul.
In plenteous billows roll,
Men go about in blank dismay,
Hungry of heart and soul.
Like chance-sown weeds they grow, and drift
On to the drowning main;
Oh, for a lever that would lift
Thought to a higher plane!
On to the drowning main;
Oh, for a lever that would lift
Thought to a higher plane!
Sin is destructive: he is dead
Whose soul is lost to truth;
While virtue makes the hoary head
Bright with eternal youth.
Whose soul is lost to truth;
While virtue makes the hoary head
Bright with eternal youth.
There is a courage that partakes
Of cowardice; a high
And honest-hearted fear that makes
The man afraid to lie.
Of cowardice; a high
And honest-hearted fear that makes
The man afraid to lie.
When no low thoughts of self intrude,
Angels adjust our rights;
And love that seeks its selfish good
Dies in its own delights.
Angels adjust our rights;
And love that seeks its selfish good
Dies in its own delights.
How much we take,—how little give,—
Yet every life is meant
To help all lives; each man should live
For all men's betterment.
Yet every life is meant
To help all lives; each man should live
For all men's betterment.
MYSTERIES.
Clouds, with a little light between;
Pain, passion, fear, and doubt,—
What voice shall tell me what they mean?
I cannot find them out!
Pain, passion, fear, and doubt,—
What voice shall tell me what they mean?
I cannot find them out!
Hopeless my task is, to begin,
Who fail with all my power,
To read the crimson lettering in
The modest meadow flower.
Who fail with all my power,
To read the crimson lettering in
The modest meadow flower.
Death, with shut eyes and icy cheek,
Bearing that bitter cup;
Oh, who is wise enough to speak,
And break its silence up!
Bearing that bitter cup;
Oh, who is wise enough to speak,
And break its silence up!
Or read the evil writing on
The wall of good, for, oh,
The more my reason shines upon
Its lines, the less I know:
The wall of good, for, oh,
The more my reason shines upon
Its lines, the less I know:
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Or show how dust became a rose,
And what it is above
All mysteries that doth compose
Discordance into love.
And what it is above
All mysteries that doth compose
Discordance into love.
I only know that wisdom planned,
And that it is my part
To trust, who cannot understand
The beating of my heart.
And that it is my part
To trust, who cannot understand
The beating of my heart.
LYRIC.
Thou givest, Lord, to Nature law,
And she in turn doth give
Her poorest flower a right to draw
Whate'er she needs to live.
And she in turn doth give
Her poorest flower a right to draw
Whate'er she needs to live.
The dews upon her forehead fall,
The sunbeams round her lean,
And dress her humble form with all
The glory of a queen.
The sunbeams round her lean,
And dress her humble form with all
The glory of a queen.
In thickets wild, in woodland bowers,
By waysides, everywhere,
The plainest flower of all the flowers
Is shining with thy care.
By waysides, everywhere,
The plainest flower of all the flowers
Is shining with thy care.
And shall I, through my fear and doubt,
Be less than one of these,
And come from seeking thee without
By blessed influences?
Be less than one of these,
And come from seeking thee without
By blessed influences?
Thou who hast crowned my life with powers
So large,—so high above
The fairest flower of all the flowers,—
Forbid it by thy love.
So large,—so high above
The fairest flower of all the flowers,—
Forbid it by thy love.
TRUST.
Away with all life's memories,
Away with hopes, away!
Lord, take me up into thy love,
And keep me there to-day.
Away with hopes, away!
Lord, take me up into thy love,
And keep me there to-day.
I cannot trust to mortal eyes
My weakness and my sin;
Temptations He alone can judge,
Who knows what they have been.
My weakness and my sin;
Temptations He alone can judge,
Who knows what they have been.
But I can trust Him who provides
The thirsty ground with dew,
And round the wounded beetle builds
His grassy house anew.
The thirsty ground with dew,
And round the wounded beetle builds
His grassy house anew.
For the same hand that smites with pain,
And sends the wintry snows,
Doth mould the frozen clod again
Into the summer rose.
And sends the wintry snows,
Doth mould the frozen clod again
Into the summer rose.
My soul is melted by that love,
So tender and so true;
I can but cry, My Lord and God,
What wilt thou have me do?
So tender and so true;
I can but cry, My Lord and God,
What wilt thou have me do?
My blessings all come back to me,
And round about me stand;
Help me to climb their dizzy stairs
Until I touch thy hand.
And round about me stand;
Help me to climb their dizzy stairs
Until I touch thy hand.
ALL IN ALL.
Aweary, wounded unto death,—
Unfavored of men's eyes,
I have a house not made with hands,
Eternal, in the skies.
Unfavored of men's eyes,
I have a house not made with hands,
Eternal, in the skies.
A house where but the steps of faith
Through the white light have trod,
Steadfast among the mansions of
The City of our God.
Through the white light have trod,
Steadfast among the mansions of
The City of our God.
There never shall the sun go down
From the lamenting day;
There storms shall never rise to beat
The light of love away.
From the lamenting day;
There storms shall never rise to beat
The light of love away.
There living streams through deathless flowres
Are flowing free and wide;
There souls that thirsted here below
Drink, and are satisfied.
Are flowing free and wide;
There souls that thirsted here below
Drink, and are satisfied.
I know my longing shall be filled
When this weak, wasting clay
Is folded like a garment from
My soul, and laid away.
When this weak, wasting clay
Is folded like a garment from
My soul, and laid away.
I know it by th' immortal hopes
That wrestle down my fear,—
By all the awful mysteries
That hide heaven from us here.
That wrestle down my fear,—
By all the awful mysteries
That hide heaven from us here.
Oh what a blissful heritage
On such as I to fall;
Possessed of thee, my Lord and God,
I am possessed of all.
On such as I to fall;
Possessed of thee, my Lord and God,
I am possessed of all.
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THE PURE IN HEART.
“Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.”
I asked the angels in my prayer,
With bitter tears and pains,
To show mine eyes the kingdom where
The Lord of glory reigns.
With bitter tears and pains,
To show mine eyes the kingdom where
The Lord of glory reigns.
I said, My way with doubt is dim,
My heart is sick with fear;
Oh come, and help me build to Him
A tabernacle here!
My heart is sick with fear;
Oh come, and help me build to Him
A tabernacle here!
The storms of sorrow wildly beat,
The clouds with death are chill;
I long to hear his voice so sweet,
Who whispered, “Peace; be still!”
The clouds with death are chill;
I long to hear his voice so sweet,
Who whispered, “Peace; be still!”
The angels said, God giveth you
His love,—what more is ours?
And even as the gentle dew
Descends upon the flowers,
His love,—what more is ours?
And even as the gentle dew
Descends upon the flowers,
His grace descends; and, as of old,
He walks with man apart,
Keeping the promise as foretold,
With all the pure in heart.
He walks with man apart,
Keeping the promise as foretold,
With all the pure in heart.
Thou needst not ask the angels where
His habitations be;
Keep thou thy spirit clean and fair,
And He shall dwell with thee.
His habitations be;
Keep thou thy spirit clean and fair,
And He shall dwell with thee.
UNSATISFIED.
Come out from heaven, O Lord, and be my guide,
Come, I implore;
To my dark questionings unsatisfied,
Leave me no more,—
No more, O Lord, no more!
Come, I implore;
To my dark questionings unsatisfied,
Leave me no more,—
No more, O Lord, no more!
Forgetting how my nights and how my days
Run sweetly by,—
Forgetting that thy ways above our ways
Are all so high,—
I cry, and ever cry—
Run sweetly by,—
Forgetting that thy ways above our ways
Are all so high,—
I cry, and ever cry—
Since that thou leavest not the wildest glen,
For flowers to wait,
How leavest thou the hearts of living men
So desolate,—
So darkly desolate?
For flowers to wait,
How leavest thou the hearts of living men
So desolate,—
So darkly desolate?
Thou keepest safe beneath the wintry snow
The little seed,
And leavest under all its weights of woe,
The heart to bleed,
And vainly, vainly plead.
The little seed,
And leavest under all its weights of woe,
The heart to bleed,
And vainly, vainly plead.
In the dry root thou stirrest up the sap;
At thy commands
Cometh the rain, and all the bushes clap
Their rosy hands:
Man only, thirsting, stands.
At thy commands
Cometh the rain, and all the bushes clap
Their rosy hands:
Man only, thirsting, stands.
Is it for envy, or from wrath that springs
From foolish pride,
Thou leavest him to his dark questionings
Unsatisfied,—
Always unsatisfied?
From foolish pride,
Thou leavest him to his dark questionings
Unsatisfied,—
Always unsatisfied?
MORE LIFE.
When spring-time prospers in the grass,
And fills the vales with tender bloom,
And light winds whisper as they pass
Of sunnier days to come;
And fills the vales with tender bloom,
And light winds whisper as they pass
Of sunnier days to come;
In spite of all the joy she brings
To flood and field, to hill and grove,
This is the song my spirit sings,—
More light, more life, more love!
To flood and field, to hill and grove,
This is the song my spirit sings,—
More light, more life, more love!
And when, her time fulfilled, she goes
So gently from her vernal place,
And all the outstretched landscape glows
With sober summer grace;
So gently from her vernal place,
And all the outstretched landscape glows
With sober summer grace;
When on the stalk the ear is set,
With all the harvest promise bright,
My spirit sings the old song yet,—
More love, more life, more light!
With all the harvest promise bright,
My spirit sings the old song yet,—
More love, more life, more light!
When stubble takes the place of grain,
And shrunken streams steal slow along,
And all the faded woods complain
Like one who suffers wrong;
And shrunken streams steal slow along,
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Like one who suffers wrong;
When fires are lit, and everywhere
The pleasures of the household rife,
My song is solemnized to prayer,—
More love, more light, more life!
The pleasures of the household rife,
My song is solemnized to prayer,—
More love, more light, more life!
LIGHT AND DARKNESS.
Darkness, blind darkness every way,
With low illuminings of light;
Hints, intimations of the day
That never breaks to full, clear light.
With low illuminings of light;
Hints, intimations of the day
That never breaks to full, clear light.
High longing for a larger light
Urges us onward o'er life's hill;
Low fear of darkness and of night
Presses us back and holds us still.
Urges us onward o'er life's hill;
Low fear of darkness and of night
Presses us back and holds us still.
So while to Hope we give one hand,
The other hand to Fear we lend;
And thus 'twixt high and low we stand,
Waiting and wavering to the end.
The other hand to Fear we lend;
And thus 'twixt high and low we stand,
Waiting and wavering to the end.
Eager for some ungotten good,
We mind the false and miss the true;
Leaving undone the things we would,
We do the things we would not do.
We mind the false and miss the true;
Leaving undone the things we would,
We do the things we would not do.
For ill in good and good in ill,
The verity, the thing that seems,—
They run into each other still,
Like dreams in truth, like truth in dreams.
The verity, the thing that seems,—
They run into each other still,
Like dreams in truth, like truth in dreams.
Seeing the world with sin imbued,
We trust that in the eternal plan
Some little drop of brightest blood
Runs through the darkest heart of man.
We trust that in the eternal plan
Some little drop of brightest blood
Runs through the darkest heart of man.
Living afar from what is near,
Uplooking while we downward tend;
In light and shadow, hope and fear,
We sin and suffer to the end.
Uplooking while we downward tend;
In light and shadow, hope and fear,
We sin and suffer to the end.
SUBSTANCE.
Each fearful storm that o'er us rolls,
Each path of peril trod,
Is but a means whereby our souls
Acquaint themselves with God.
Each path of peril trod,
Is but a means whereby our souls
Acquaint themselves with God.
Our want and weakness, shame and sin,
His pitying kindness prove;
And all our lives are folded in
The mystery of his love.
His pitying kindness prove;
And all our lives are folded in
The mystery of his love.
The grassy land, the flowering trees,
The waters; wild and dim,—
These are the cloud of witnesses
That testify of Him.
The waters; wild and dim,—
These are the cloud of witnesses
That testify of Him.
His sun is shining, sure and fast,
O'er all our nights of dread;
Our darkness by his light, at last
Shall be interpreted.
O'er all our nights of dread;
Our darkness by his light, at last
Shall be interpreted.
No promise shall He fail to keep
Until we see his face;
E'en death is but a tender sleep
In the eternal race.
Until we see his face;
E'en death is but a tender sleep
In the eternal race.
Time's empty shadow cheats our eyes,
But all the heavens declare
The substance of the things we prize
Is there and only there.
But all the heavens declare
The substance of the things we prize
Is there and only there.
LIFE'S MYSTERY.
Life's sadly solemn mystery
Hangs o'er me like a weight;
The glorious longing to be free,
The gloomy bars of fate.
Hangs o'er me like a weight;
The glorious longing to be free,
The gloomy bars of fate.
Alternately the good and ill,
The light and dark, are strung;
Fountains of love within my heart,
And hate upon my tongue.
The light and dark, are strung;
Fountains of love within my heart,
And hate upon my tongue.
Beneath my feet the unstable ground,
Above my head the skies;
Immortal longings in my soul,
And death before my eyes.
Above my head the skies;
Immortal longings in my soul,
And death before my eyes.
No purely pure, and perfect good,
No high, unhindered power:
A beauteous promise in the bud,
And mildew on the flower.
No high, unhindered power:
A beauteous promise in the bud,
And mildew on the flower.
The glad, green brightness of the spring;
The summer, soft and warm;
The faded autumn's fluttering gold,
The whirlwind and the storm.
The summer, soft and warm;
The faded autumn's fluttering gold,
The whirlwind and the storm.
To find some sure interpreter
My spirit vainly tries;
I only know that God is love.
And know that love is wise.
My spirit vainly tries;
I only know that God is love.
And know that love is wise.
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FOR SELF-HELP.
Master, I do not ask that thou
With milk and wine my table spread,
So much, as for the will to plough
And sow my fields, and earn my bread;
Lest at thy coming I be found
A useless cumberer of the ground.
With milk and wine my table spread,
So much, as for the will to plough
And sow my fields, and earn my bread;
Lest at thy coming I be found
A useless cumberer of the ground.
I do not ask that thou wilt bless
With gifts of heavenly sort my day,
So much, as that my hands may dress
The borders of my lowly way
With constant deeds of good and right,
Thereby reflecting heavenly light.
With gifts of heavenly sort my day,
So much, as that my hands may dress
The borders of my lowly way
With constant deeds of good and right,
Thereby reflecting heavenly light.
I do not ask that thou shouldst lift
My feet to mountain-heights sublime,
So much, as for the heavenly gift
Of strength, with which myself may climb,
Making the power thou madest mine
For using, by that use, divine.
My feet to mountain-heights sublime,
So much, as for the heavenly gift
Of strength, with which myself may climb,
Making the power thou madest mine
For using, by that use, divine.
I do not ask that there may flow
Glory about me from the skies;
The knowledge, that doth knowledge know;
The wisdom that is not too wise
To see in all things good and fair,
Thy love attested, is my prayer.
Glory about me from the skies;
The knowledge, that doth knowledge know;
The wisdom that is not too wise
To see in all things good and fair,
Thy love attested, is my prayer.
DYING HYMN.
Earth, with its dark and dreadful ills,
Recedes, and fades away;
Lift up your heads, ye heavenly hills;
Ye gates of death, give way!
Recedes, and fades away;
Lift up your heads, ye heavenly hills;
Ye gates of death, give way!
My soul is full of whispered song;
My blindness is my sight;
The shadows that I feared so long
Are all alive with light.
My blindness is my sight;
The shadows that I feared so long
Are all alive with light.
The while my pulses faintly beat,
My faith doth so abound,
I feel grow firm beneath my feet
The green immortal ground.
My faith doth so abound,
I feel grow firm beneath my feet
The green immortal ground.
That faith to me a courage gives,
Low as the grave, to go;
I know that my Redeemer lives:
That I shall live, I know.
Low as the grave, to go;
I know that my Redeemer lives:
That I shall live, I know.
The palace walls I almost see,
Where dwells my Lord and King;
O grave, where is thy victory!
O death, where is thy sting!
Where dwells my Lord and King;
O grave, where is thy victory!
O death, where is thy sting!
EXTREMITIES.
When the mildew's blight we see
Over all the harvest spread,
Humbly, Lord, we cry to thee,
Give, oh give us, daily bread!
But the full and plenteous ears
Many a time we reap with tears.
Over all the harvest spread,
Humbly, Lord, we cry to thee,
Give, oh give us, daily bread!
But the full and plenteous ears
Many a time we reap with tears.
When the whirlwind rocks the land,
When the gathering clouds alarm,
Lord, within thy sheltering hand,
Hide, oh hide us from the storm!
So with trembling souls we cry,
Till the cloud and noise pass by.
When the gathering clouds alarm,
Lord, within thy sheltering hand,
Hide, oh hide us from the storm!
So with trembling souls we cry,
Till the cloud and noise pass by.
When our pleasures fade away,
When our hopes delusive prove,
Prostrate at thy feet we pray,
Shield, oh shield us with thy love!
But, our anxious plea allowed,
We grow petulant and proud.
When our hopes delusive prove,
Prostrate at thy feet we pray,
Shield, oh shield us with thy love!
But, our anxious plea allowed,
We grow petulant and proud.
When life's little day turns dull,
When the avenging shades begin,
Save us, O most Merciful,
Save us, save us from our sin!
So, the last dread foe being near,
We entreat thee, through our fear.
When the avenging shades begin,
Save us, O most Merciful,
Save us, save us from our sin!
So, the last dread foe being near,
We entreat thee, through our fear.
Ere the dark our light efface,
Ere our pleasure fleeth far,
Make us worthier of thy grace,
Stubborn rebels that we are;
While our good days round us shine,
O our Father, make us thine.
Ere our pleasure fleeth far,
Make us worthier of thy grace,
Stubborn rebels that we are;
While our good days round us shine,
O our Father, make us thine.
HERE AND THERE.
Here is the sorrow, the sighing,
Here are the cloud and the night;
Here is the sickness, the dying,
There are the life and the light!
Here are the cloud and the night;
Here is the sickness, the dying,
There are the life and the light!
Here is the fading, the wasting,
The foe that so watchfully waits;
There are the hills everlasting,
The city with beautiful gates.
The foe that so watchfully waits;
There are the hills everlasting,
The city with beautiful gates.
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Here are the locks growing hoary,
The glass with the vanishing sands;
There are the crown and the glory,
The house that is made not with hands.
The glass with the vanishing sands;
There are the crown and the glory,
The house that is made not with hands.
Here is the longing, the vision,
The hopes that so swiftly remove;
There is the blessed fruition,
The feast, and the fullness of love.
The hopes that so swiftly remove;
There is the blessed fruition,
The feast, and the fullness of love.
Here are the heart-strings a-tremble
And here is the chastening rod;
There is the song and the cymbal,
And there is our Father and God.
And here is the chastening rod;
There is the song and the cymbal,
And there is our Father and God.
THE DAWN OF PEACE.
After the cloud and the whirlwind,
After the long, dark night,
After the dull, slow marches,
And the thick, tumultuous fight,
Thank God, we see the lifting
Of the golden, glorious light!
After the long, dark night,
After the dull, slow marches,
And the thick, tumultuous fight,
Thank God, we see the lifting
Of the golden, glorious light!
After the sorrowful partings,
After the sickening fear,
And after the bitter sealing
With blood, of year to year,
Thank God, the light is breaking;
Thank God, the day is here!
After the sickening fear,
And after the bitter sealing
With blood, of year to year,
Thank God, the light is breaking;
Thank God, the day is here!
The land is filled with mourning
For husbands and brothers slain,
But a hymn of glad thanksgiving
Rises over the pain;
Thank God, our gallant soldiers
Have not gone down in vain!
For husbands and brothers slain,
But a hymn of glad thanksgiving
Rises over the pain;
Thank God, our gallant soldiers
Have not gone down in vain!
The cloud is spent; the whirlwind
That vexed the night is past;
And the day whose blessed dawning
We see, shall surely last,
Till all the broken fetters
To ploughshares shall be cast!
That vexed the night is past;
And the day whose blessed dawning
We see, shall surely last,
Till all the broken fetters
To ploughshares shall be cast!
When over the field of battle
The grass grows green, and when
The Spirit of Peace shall have planted
Her olives once again,
Oh, how the hosts of the people
Shall cry, Amen, Amen!
The grass grows green, and when
The Spirit of Peace shall have planted
Her olives once again,
Oh, how the hosts of the people
Shall cry, Amen, Amen!
OCCASIONAL.
Our mightiest in our midst is slain;
The mourners weep around,
Broken and bowed with bitter pain,
And bleeding through his wound.
The mourners weep around,
Broken and bowed with bitter pain,
And bleeding through his wound.
Prostrate, o'erwhelmed, with anguish torn,
We cry, great God, for aid;
Night fell upon us, even at morn,
And we are sore afraid.
We cry, great God, for aid;
Night fell upon us, even at morn,
And we are sore afraid.
Afraid of our infirmities,
In this, our woeful woe,—
Afraid to breast the bloody seas
That hard against us flow.
In this, our woeful woe,—
Afraid to breast the bloody seas
That hard against us flow.
The sword we sheathed, our enemy
Has bared, and struck us through;
And heart, and soul, and spirit cry,
What wilt thou have us do!
Has bared, and struck us through;
And heart, and soul, and spirit cry,
What wilt thou have us do!
Be with our country in this grief
That lies across her path,
Lest that she mourn her martyred chief
With an unrighteous wrath.
That lies across her path,
Lest that she mourn her martyred chief
With an unrighteous wrath.
Give her that steadfast faith and trust
That look through all, to Thee;
And in her mercy keep her just,
And through her justice, free.
That look through all, to Thee;
And in her mercy keep her just,
And through her justice, free.
[Why should our spirits be opprest]
Why should our spirits be opprest
When days of darkness fall?
Our Father knoweth what is best,
And He hath made them all.
When days of darkness fall?
Our Father knoweth what is best,
And He hath made them all.
He made them, and to all their length
Set parallels of gain;
We gather from our pain the strength
To rise above our pain.
Set parallels of gain;
We gather from our pain the strength
To rise above our pain.
All, all beneath the shining sun
Is vanity and dust;
Help us, O high and holy One,
To fix in thee our trust;
Is vanity and dust;
Help us, O high and holy One,
To fix in thee our trust;
And in the change, and interfuse
Of change, with every hour,
To recognize the shifting hues
Of never-changing Power.
Of change, with every hour,
To recognize the shifting hues
Of never-changing Power.
| [Poems by Cary in] The Poetical Works Of Alice and Phoebe Cary | |