 | 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition |  |
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RELIGIOUS POEMS, ETC.
THE CHURCH CLOCK.
The church clock stands in the church tower,
It chimes alike in shine and shower,
And tells of seasons passing by—
That dearest things must fade and fly;
It sounds, as would an angel speak,
That carries comfort to the weak;
Throughout the night, throughout the day,
It calleth sinful souls to pray.
What is its Lenten cry?
Live to thyself, and die;
What message doth it give?
Die to thyself, and live.
It chimes alike in shine and shower,
And tells of seasons passing by—
That dearest things must fade and fly;
It sounds, as would an angel speak,
That carries comfort to the weak;
Throughout the night, throughout the day,
It calleth sinful souls to pray.
What is its Lenten cry?
Live to thyself, and die;
What message doth it give?
Die to thyself, and live.
The church clock striketh, when the bell
Hath ceased its solemn warning knell;
It hath soft tones for human tears,
And metes an end of mortal fears;
It bids us turn from earthly toys,
To penance and its purer joys;
Ah, let its stroke the dreamer raise,
And open careless hearts to praise.
What is its Lenten voice?
Let Mary's be thy choice,
To find the dust is sweet,
If at the Saviour's feet.
Hath ceased its solemn warning knell;
It hath soft tones for human tears,
And metes an end of mortal fears;
It bids us turn from earthly toys,
To penance and its purer joys;
Ah, let its stroke the dreamer raise,
And open careless hearts to praise.
What is its Lenten voice?
Let Mary's be thy choice,
To find the dust is sweet,
If at the Saviour's feet.
The church clock measures out the time,
Between two worlds with awful chime;
Its white face glimmers through the gloom,
Its lips toll like the trump of doom,
To the lost wretch outside the gate,
That to repentance flees too late—
It beats like scourges on his sleep,
And wakes him evermore to weep.
What is its Lenten text?
Thy soul shall be the next,
That did its tribute grudge,
Unready for the Judge.
Between two worlds with awful chime;
Its white face glimmers through the gloom,
Its lips toll like the trump of doom,
To the lost wretch outside the gate,
That to repentance flees too late—
It beats like scourges on his sleep,
And wakes him evermore to weep.
What is its Lenten text?
Thy soul shall be the next,
That did its tribute grudge,
Unready for the Judge.
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The church clock pointeth with its hands
To brighter loves and better lands,
With solemn witness preaching on,
When other tongues are hushed and gone;
It speaks of grace, its deathless charms,
That girds us with unconquered arms;
Throughout the day, throughout the night,
It cheers the soldier to the fight.
What is its Lenten call?
Beware, lest thou shouldst fall;
The cross thy burden be,
And it shall carry thee.
To brighter loves and better lands,
With solemn witness preaching on,
When other tongues are hushed and gone;
It speaks of grace, its deathless charms,
That girds us with unconquered arms;
Throughout the day, throughout the night,
It cheers the soldier to the fight.
What is its Lenten call?
Beware, lest thou shouldst fall;
The cross thy burden be,
And it shall carry thee.
The church clock stands, as it has stood
And shall through ages yet, for good—
Above the noise of petty strife,
Lifting to peace of holier life;
It speaketh now, as in the past,
Of lonely vigil, vow, and fast,
The sacraments that wash from soil,
And bids us share Christ's loving toil.
What is its Lenten tale?
The reddest cheek grows pale;
Nigh is the burial sod,
Prepare to meet thy God.
And shall through ages yet, for good—
Above the noise of petty strife,
Lifting to peace of holier life;
It speaketh now, as in the past,
Of lonely vigil, vow, and fast,
The sacraments that wash from soil,
And bids us share Christ's loving toil.
What is its Lenten tale?
The reddest cheek grows pale;
Nigh is the burial sod,
Prepare to meet thy God.
THE SECRET OF THE PRESENCE.
With the glow of the last dying ember,
As it flushed and flickered on the hearth,
And the cricket cried, I well remember,
When the snow's white robe enwrapt the earth;
When the fire made shadows dance and darken,
With their figures weird across the wall,
And the straining ear would fain not harken,
At the ghostly sounds that seemed to call;
In the boding darkness before morning,
In the cold of a wild winter March,
That had stript the heaven of stars adorning,
And with sackcloth hung its glorious arch;
While I could not sleep, and strove to number
The feeble sparks of the sputtering flame,
From the world within the world of slumber,
It came.
As it flushed and flickered on the hearth,
And the cricket cried, I well remember,
When the snow's white robe enwrapt the earth;
When the fire made shadows dance and darken,
With their figures weird across the wall,
And the straining ear would fain not harken,
At the ghostly sounds that seemed to call;
In the boding darkness before morning,
In the cold of a wild winter March,
That had stript the heaven of stars adorning,
And with sackcloth hung its glorious arch;
While I could not sleep, and strove to number
The feeble sparks of the sputtering flame,
From the world within the world of slumber,
It came.
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What it was I cannot utter,
For our human words are weak,
And the heart would vainly flutter,
That the wonder tried to speak;
But appeared at once a portal,
In eternity to ope,
From the fetters of the mortal,
And beyond the dreams of hope;
I was conscious of a Being,
That yet mingled with my own,
And a sight far more than seeing,
Into mysteries unknown;
What below is the most pleasant,
And what is most pure above,
All their rapture then seemed present,
And was Love.
For our human words are weak,
And the heart would vainly flutter,
That the wonder tried to speak;
But appeared at once a portal,
In eternity to ope,
From the fetters of the mortal,
And beyond the dreams of hope;
I was conscious of a Being,
That yet mingled with my own,
And a sight far more than seeing,
Into mysteries unknown;
What below is the most pleasant,
And what is most pure above,
All their rapture then seemed present,
And was Love.
And whatever now attend my fortunes,
I must yet be alway sure of this,
While the grief besets and pain impórtunes,
That my soul has tasted Heavenly bliss;
And whatever leaves me, this is certain—
I have Love Almighty seen and known,
And He drew aside the cloudy curtain,
Which divides His dwelling from my own;
There has passed between us something solemn,
Like a consecration's covenant seal,
And before me goes the fiery column,
That the path of Duty doth reveal;
I have drunk of joy the awful essence,
And I now can never be the same,
Since with all the Secret of the Presence,
He came.
I must yet be alway sure of this,
While the grief besets and pain impórtunes,
That my soul has tasted Heavenly bliss;
And whatever leaves me, this is certain—
I have Love Almighty seen and known,
And He drew aside the cloudy curtain,
Which divides His dwelling from my own;
There has passed between us something solemn,
Like a consecration's covenant seal,
And before me goes the fiery column,
That the path of Duty doth reveal;
I have drunk of joy the awful essence,
And I now can never be the same,
Since with all the Secret of the Presence,
He came.
It is whispered by the forest,
It is murmured by the stream,
When the troubled heart is sorest,
Thou shalt catch the gracious gleam;
In the mist upon the mountain,
When bestridden by the storm,
In the plashing of the fountain,
Breathes the beauty of that Form;
It is He and not another,
In each earthly tone and tide,
The sweet Man who is a Brother,
And who suffers at our side;
In the clamours that enfold us,
In the cooing of the dove,
He is present to uphold us,
And is Love.
It is murmured by the stream,
When the troubled heart is sorest,
Thou shalt catch the gracious gleam;
In the mist upon the mountain,
When bestridden by the storm,
In the plashing of the fountain,
Breathes the beauty of that Form;
It is He and not another,
In each earthly tone and tide,
The sweet Man who is a Brother,
And who suffers at our side;
In the clamours that enfold us,
In the cooing of the dove,
He is present to uphold us,
And is Love.
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THE TREE OF DEATH.
In the dead of the night the Christ came down,
To visit the earth He made;
And a cross of care was His only crown,
As He stood in the heart of a mighty Town,
In the dread of the prison shade.
To visit the earth He made;
And a cross of care was His only crown,
As He stood in the heart of a mighty Town,
In the dread of the prison shade.
Lo, his brow had the brand of the cruel thorn,
And His hands by the nails were rent,
And His face with a voiceless woe looked worn,
Though His eyes shone out like the light of morn
On a waking continent.
And His hands by the nails were rent,
And His face with a voiceless woe looked worn,
Though His eyes shone out like the light of morn
On a waking continent.
And He came, as a mourner comes to keep
His watch, till the shadows fly;
And the prisoner felt a solace deep,
As he turned in his hateful haunted sleep,
When the gracious Christ went by.
His watch, till the shadows fly;
And the prisoner felt a solace deep,
As he turned in his hateful haunted sleep,
When the gracious Christ went by.
And the doors unlocked and the bolts shot back,
As He passed from cell to cell;
While a trail of glory marked His track,
And the walls they seemed to reel and crack
To their uttermost iron cell.
As He passed from cell to cell;
While a trail of glory marked His track,
And the walls they seemed to reel and crack
To their uttermost iron cell.
And the murderer dreamed, where he huddled lay,
That he yet again was free;
And he raised his blood-stained hand to pray,
For soft did a heavenly whisper say,
“Dark soul, I died for thee.”
That he yet again was free;
And he raised his blood-stained hand to pray,
For soft did a heavenly whisper say,
“Dark soul, I died for thee.”
And the creature with his years of crime,
Though he still was but a boy,
When he heard those words of pity chime,
In the midst of his visioned slough and slime,
Had the thrill of a purer joy.
Though he still was but a boy,
When he heard those words of pity chime,
In the midst of his visioned slough and slime,
Had the thrill of a purer joy.
And the woman fallen so long and low,
Who was all unsexed by sin,
In her wintry suffering found a glow,
And a sudden rapture through her flow,
As the Blessed One came in.
Who was all unsexed by sin,
In her wintry suffering found a glow,
And a sudden rapture through her flow,
As the Blessed One came in.
And the villain stamped with every stain,
With the scar of every lust,
Drew a respite from the galling chain,
As an unseen Hand relaxed his pain,
And upraised him in his dust.
With the scar of every lust,
Drew a respite from the galling chain,
As an unseen Hand relaxed his pain,
And upraised him in his dust.
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And the wretch, who was ugly and old and lost,
Who the vice as of ages bore,
In his hopeless misery torn and tost,
When that unknown Step his wanderings crost,
Looked young and fair once more.
Who the vice as of ages bore,
In his hopeless misery torn and tost,
When that unknown Step his wanderings crost,
Looked young and fair once more.
So the Christ passed on, as a presence bright,
In his vigil lone and dim;
And the gates, that mocked at the human might,
They bent to the power of that solemn sight,
And they opened wide to Him.
In his vigil lone and dim;
And the gates, that mocked at the human might,
They bent to the power of that solemn sight,
And they opened wide to Him.
Then He came at length to the Gallows high,
Where it stood like a funeral stone;
And again he wept, as His feet drew nigh,
While there broke from His heart a human sigh,
As he gazed at the Devil's throne.
Where it stood like a funeral stone;
And again he wept, as His feet drew nigh,
While there broke from His heart a human sigh,
As he gazed at the Devil's throne.
For it seemed as sackcloth on the sky,
As if all were under ban;
And its roots, for ever parched and dry,
Sucked food of the exceeding cry,
From the bleeding breast of man.
As if all were under ban;
And its roots, for ever parched and dry,
Sucked food of the exceeding cry,
From the bleeding breast of man.
Till He spoke,—“I planted many a tree,”
But He spoke with troubled breath—
“And I framed them beautiful to see,
“And I called them good, but who made thee,
“O ghastly Tree of Death?
But He spoke with troubled breath—
“And I framed them beautiful to see,
“And I called them good, but who made thee,
“O ghastly Tree of Death?
“And I know thee not, O sterile stem,
With thy harvest of grief and strife;
But I know the precious ore and gem,
And I love the flowers and fashioned them,
And I gave the Tree of Life.
With thy harvest of grief and strife;
But I know the precious ore and gem,
And I love the flowers and fashioned them,
And I gave the Tree of Life.
“For thy branches reach to the farthest land,
And thy poison shade is spread,
Over mountain peak, over desert sand,
Like the midnight gloom, with its curséd band,
And it follows the bridal tread.
And thy poison shade is spread,
Over mountain peak, over desert sand,
Like the midnight gloom, with its curséd band,
And it follows the bridal tread.
“I formed thee not, and I fed thee not,
Thou are bathed in no showers of mine,
And thou growest there as the one grim spot,
With the fruit that ripens but to rot,
Whereon no sun may shine.
Thou are bathed in no showers of mine,
And thou growest there as the one grim spot,
With the fruit that ripens but to rot,
Whereon no sun may shine.
“It was sinful man who sowed the seed,
When the first foul deed was done;
It was sinful man who let thee speed,
Who chose the barren tare and weed,
When I had planted none.
When the first foul deed was done;
It was sinful man who let thee speed,
Who chose the barren tare and weed,
When I had planted none.
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“Thou hast had thy reign, O blasted trunk,
In a blighted orb since then;
And though worlds have risen and worlds have sunk,
Thou hast thriven on sighs, and still art drunk,
With the blood of martyred men.
In a blighted orb since then;
And though worlds have risen and worlds have sunk,
Thou hast thriven on sighs, and still art drunk,
With the blood of martyred men.
“Through the day and night of the dreadful years,
I have heard the cry of pain,
From the famished heart and the widow's fears;
And thou art fat with the orphan's tears,
And thy empire is in vain.
I have heard the cry of pain,
From the famished heart and the widow's fears;
And thou art fat with the orphan's tears,
And thy empire is in vain.
“Thou hast had no pity from the first,
If the poor before thee bent;
On the helpless thou hast wreaked thy worst,
And with all thy ravening yet dost thirst,
For the sweet and innocent.
If the poor before thee bent;
On the helpless thou hast wreaked thy worst,
And with all thy ravening yet dost thirst,
For the sweet and innocent.
“Thou hast only scattered the fiery brands,
That sunder man from mate;
And the shadow of thy shameful hands,
It has fallen upon the fairest strands,
With a heritage of hate.
That sunder man from mate;
And the shadow of thy shameful hands,
It has fallen upon the fairest strands,
With a heritage of hate.
“Thou hast hung the heavens with curtain black,
And hast mingled earth with moans;
For thou takest all, nor givest back,
And thou leavest but the one pale track
Of bleaching skulls and bones.
And hast mingled earth with moans;
For thou takest all, nor givest back,
And thou leavest but the one pale track
Of bleaching skulls and bones.
“And I bid thee go, thou withered stock,
With the laws that grind and slay;
And I swear thou shalt no longer mock
The hope of the penitent, nor block
The path of a kinder sway.
With the laws that grind and slay;
And I swear thou shalt no longer mock
The hope of the penitent, nor block
The path of a kinder sway.
“Thou hast run thy course and had thy fill,
With the terrors that live and lie;
Thou hast had thy time to curse and kill,
With the plagues of hell and the powers of ill,
And now thyself must die.
With the terrors that live and lie;
Thou hast had thy time to curse and kill,
With the plagues of hell and the powers of ill,
And now thyself must die.
“Thou art wanting found, and hast no lot
In the day from darkness born;
For thou canst not hold what thou hast got;
And I bid thee go, thou damnèd blot,
At the burst of a brighter morn.”
In the day from darkness born;
For thou canst not hold what thou hast got;
And I bid thee go, thou damnèd blot,
At the burst of a brighter morn.”
He spoke, and the gloom before me fled,
As a guilty thing that must;
And the bowing heavens a glory shed,
While the yawning earth gave up its dead,
From the depths of the coffin dust.
As a guilty thing that must;
And the bowing heavens a glory shed,
While the yawning earth gave up its dead,
From the depths of the coffin dust.
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He spoke, and I saw them upward start,
From their tombs that flashed like flame,
As again to play a living part,
Through the battle stress, on the busy mart—
In a solemn host they came.
From their tombs that flashed like flame,
As again to play a living part,
Through the battle stress, on the busy mart—
In a solemn host they came.
He ceased, and the night appeared to ope,
And out of its silent deep,
In a sorrow that had no ray of hope,
All the victims of the hangman's rope,
Arose from their awful sleep.
And out of its silent deep,
In a sorrow that had no ray of hope,
All the victims of the hangman's rope,
Arose from their awful sleep.
The old and young, the rich and poor,
They met in a ghostly mob,
From the crowded street, the quiet moor;
And the long-locked vault threw wide its door,
That the Conqueror came to rob.
They met in a ghostly mob,
From the crowded street, the quiet moor;
And the long-locked vault threw wide its door,
That the Conqueror came to rob.
They uplifted all their piteous arms,
But they never uttered sound;
While they stared behind at fancied harms,
And they huddled close in dire alarms,
As on infernal ground.
But they never uttered sound;
While they stared behind at fancied harms,
And they huddled close in dire alarms,
As on infernal ground.
And they cried for mercy unto Him,
Who alone was strong to save;
Like sinking souls that fain would swim,
When they swoon upon the threshold grim
Of the inexorable grave.
Who alone was strong to save;
Like sinking souls that fain would swim,
When they swoon upon the threshold grim
Of the inexorable grave.
And again He spoke, and His words were few,
But they breathed a holy balm,
And they fell as soft as the evening dew,
When it makes the weary meadows new,
In the happy twilight calm.
But they breathed a holy balm,
And they fell as soft as the evening dew,
When it makes the weary meadows new,
In the happy twilight calm.
“Thou art doomed, O spoiler of the earth,
Thou hast held in bondage long
The lives of men, with the leperous dearth
Which has clcuded every household hearth,
And saddened every song.
Thou hast held in bondage long
The lives of men, with the leperous dearth
Which has clcuded every household hearth,
And saddened every song.
“For the axe of Judgment at thy root,
It is laid and thou must fall;
That instead may spring a better shoot,
And a goodlier stem may bear the fruit
That a blessing is to all.”
It is laid and thou must fall;
That instead may spring a better shoot,
And a goodlier stem may bear the fruit
That a blessing is to all.”
But then in a moment it was gone,
And its rule with murmuring rife;
While the multitudes went laughing on,
And the sun in all its splendour shone
Around the Tree of Life.
And its rule with murmuring rife;
While the multitudes went laughing on,
And the sun in all its splendour shone
Around the Tree of Life.
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Lo, its healing boughs stretched far and wide,
And the leaves their shadows threw,
Wherein the timid heads could hide;
And it took the sufferer to its side,
And beneath its shelter drew.
And the leaves their shadows threw,
Wherein the timid heads could hide;
And it took the sufferer to its side,
And beneath its shelter drew.
For the power of violence was past,
And the people knew their own,
And they all received their King at last,
While he turned to feasting every fast,
And made every heart His throne.
And the people knew their own,
And they all received their King at last,
While he turned to feasting every fast,
And made every heart His throne.
It was broken thus that bitter chain,
When the only law was love—
When the earth cast out the curse of pain,
And the heavens came down to cleanse each stain,
And the lands leapt up above.
When the only law was love—
When the earth cast out the curse of pain,
And the heavens came down to cleanse each stain,
And the lands leapt up above.
And thus was shattered evil's might,
With its murderous penal rods;
The captives saw a blesséd sight,
And they walked rejoicing in its light,
And men became as gods.
With its murderous penal rods;
The captives saw a blesséd sight,
And they walked rejoicing in its light,
And men became as gods.
OUR MOTHER.
Sweet as a vision of night,
Fair as the stars that stay,
She stood in the world with her beauty bright,—
She stood as the champion of the right,
And the darkness turned to day.
Fair as the stars that stay,
She stood in the world with her beauty bright,—
She stood as the champion of the right,
And the darkness turned to day.
Strong with the Spirit sent
Down from the Heaven on high,
Brave on her ministering path she went
To the solace of the penitent,
And belief's departing sigh.
Down from the Heaven on high,
Brave on her ministering path she went
To the solace of the penitent,
And belief's departing sigh.
True was the story told
Of the love that cannot tire,
When the evil earth was growing old,
And the warmest bosoms had waxed cold
In their infinite desire.
Of the love that cannot tire,
When the evil earth was growing old,
And the warmest bosoms had waxed cold
In their infinite desire.
Light to the lonely came,
With its tidings glad and new;
For it brought a hope to the desperate shame,
While it kindled a vast undying flame
That over the kingdoms flew.
With its tidings glad and new;
For it brought a hope to the desperate shame,
While it kindled a vast undying flame
That over the kingdoms flew.
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Steadfast when all were faint,
She walked on her quickening road,
With a balm that drew the poison taint
From the direst wounds, and soothed the saint
Who was tottering with his load.
She walked on her quickening road,
With a balm that drew the poison taint
From the direst wounds, and soothed the saint
Who was tottering with his load.
For the hungry she had bread,
And a shelter for the weak;
And the flowers arose on the blood-stained tread
Of her martyrs, and the mighty dead
Who yet to the faithful speak.
And a shelter for the weak;
And the flowers arose on the blood-stained tread
Of her martyrs, and the mighty dead
Who yet to the faithful speak.
Mother of souls, and nurse
She waited by beds of woe;
With the poorest wretch she shared her purse,
And the cup of blessing for the curse
She gave to the bitterest foe.
She waited by beds of woe;
With the poorest wretch she shared her purse,
And the cup of blessing for the curse
She gave to the bitterest foe.
Prophet, as one who saw,
Of the peace that scatters health,
She threw the bridge of her golden law,
Across the gulf of the hate and awe
That gaped between want and wealth.
Of the peace that scatters health,
She threw the bridge of her golden law,
Across the gulf of the hate and awe
That gaped between want and wealth.
Witness to Truth, and stay
Of the rights possest by all,
She flashed the breath of her burning ray
On the Powers of Ill, that barred the way
And the mind would fain enthrall.
Of the rights possest by all,
She flashed the breath of her burning ray
On the Powers of Ill, that barred the way
And the mind would fain enthrall.
Calm in her mission grand,
She called to the fettered slave;
And the touch of her liberating hand
Was the breaking of the iron band,
And the opening of the grave.
She called to the fettered slave;
And the touch of her liberating hand
Was the breaking of the iron band,
And the opening of the grave.
Guardian of every act
That is liberty and love,
She kept as a jewel each great pact,
That has root in everlasting fact,
And its glory from above.
That is liberty and love,
She kept as a jewel each great pact,
That has root in everlasting fact,
And its glory from above.
The suffering ceased to weep,
The weary found a rest,
And a refuge the unfolded sheep,
While the helpless babe was rocked to sleep
On her universal breast.
The weary found a rest,
And a refuge the unfolded sheep,
While the helpless babe was rocked to sleep
On her universal breast.
Maker of heroes, still
She moulded the human mind,
Till it took the impress of her will.
And the hearts that only thought to kill
Bowed to her precepts kind.
She moulded the human mind,
Till it took the impress of her will.
And the hearts that only thought to kill
Bowed to her precepts kind.
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And now is her bosom rent
By the strokes of their cruel rod,
After vigil, fast, and life-blood spent,
And the care that over the peoples bent,
Like the dear blue sky of God?
By the strokes of their cruel rod,
After vigil, fast, and life-blood spent,
And the care that over the peoples bent,
Like the dear blue sky of God?
She carried the words that bless,
In the sunshine of one end,
For the welfare of no party less
Than the world with its dark wilderness,
To the enemy as the friend.
In the sunshine of one end,
For the welfare of no party less
Than the world with its dark wilderness,
To the enemy as the friend.
But the foeman whom she fed,
And the naked whom she clad,
And the thirsty who by her were sped,
And the feeble whom she surely led,
Have forsworn the help they had.
And the naked whom she clad,
And the thirsty who by her were sped,
And the feeble whom she surely led,
Have forsworn the help they had.
But alas! it grieves her most,
With a sorrow never feared,
To see in league with the hostile host,
Her soldiers fled from their duty's post,
And the children that she reared.
With a sorrow never feared,
To see in league with the hostile host,
Her soldiers fled from their duty's post,
And the children that she reared.
Yea, it wrings her heart-strings sore,
To hear in the ribald cry,
The voices that once Hosannas bore,
And by her were tuned to sing before,
Now shouting “Crucify!”
To hear in the ribald cry,
The voices that once Hosannas bore,
And by her were tuned to sing before,
Now shouting “Crucify!”
But her feet are on the Rock,
While the troubles round her twine,
And the brighter from the shade and shock,
If the bands of hell her pathway block,
She shall yet arise and shine.
While the troubles round her twine,
And the brighter from the shade and shock,
If the bands of hell her pathway block,
She shall yet arise and shine.
For she yet is the Saviour's Bride,
And she treads as she firmly trod,
Though the waves may roar in their raging tide,
At the bulwarks built against their pride;
And they fight in vain with God.
And she treads as she firmly trod,
Though the waves may roar in their raging tide,
At the bulwarks built against their pride;
And they fight in vain with God.
THE CHURCH.
The ocean ebbs and flows,
The stars arise and set,
The flower to-day that blows,
To morrow we forget.
Things mortal, passing soon,
Leave nothing but their wraith;
God's Church outlives the sun and moon,
And God defend the Faith.
The stars arise and set,
The flower to-day that blows,
To morrow we forget.
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Leave nothing but their wraith;
God's Church outlives the sun and moon,
And God defend the Faith.
The summer has its time,
Its turn the yellow sheaf;
And man's majestic prime,
Falls into withered leaf.
Things human live their day,
God's Church hath ever light,
Though heaven and earth shall pass away,
And God defend the Right.
Its turn the yellow sheaf;
And man's majestic prime,
Falls into withered leaf.
Things human live their day,
God's Church hath ever light,
Though heaven and earth shall pass away,
And God defend the Right.
The strongest earthly power,
Must pine and suffer thirst;
The proudest Babel tower,
Was fated from the first.
But, glory of all lands,
Which only keeps its youth,
God's Church unchanged and changeless stands,
And God defend the Truth.
Must pine and suffer thirst;
The proudest Babel tower,
Was fated from the first.
But, glory of all lands,
Which only keeps its youth,
God's Church unchanged and changeless stands,
And God defend the Truth.
No sinful word is sure,
And nothing built on sand;
No falsehood may endure,
That forges prison band.
The iron bar and lock,
Are into ruin thrown;
God's Church is founded on the Rock,
And God defend His own.
And nothing built on sand;
No falsehood may endure,
That forges prison band.
The iron bar and lock,
Are into ruin thrown;
God's Church is founded on the Rock,
And God defend His own.
The fabric raised by man,
Will wanting yet be found;
The thinker's giant plan,
Has yet a final bound.
The conqueror too must kneel,
Beneath the judgment sword;
God's Church on conquerors set its heel,
And God defend His Word.
Will wanting yet be found;
The thinker's giant plan,
Has yet a final bound.
The conqueror too must kneel,
Beneath the judgment sword;
God's Church on conquerors set its heel,
And God defend His Word.
The world is growing gray,
It is a fleeting breath;
The fairest lives decay,
The longest come to death.
Grace is a fading toy,
Fame is an ebbing tide;
God's Church is portion of His joy,
And God defend His Bride.
It is a fleeting breath;
The fairest lives decay,
The longest come to death.
Grace is a fading toy,
Fame is an ebbing tide;
God's Church is portion of His joy,
And God defend His Bride.
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Creeds born of erring mind,
Betray the heart that trust
And blown by every wind,
Shall vanish into dust.
No rest for wounded will,
In labour's mire and murk;
God's Church is freedom's fortress still,
And God defend His work.
Betray the heart that trust
And blown by every wind,
Shall vanish into dust.
No rest for wounded will,
In labour's mire and murk;
God's Church is freedom's fortress still,
And God defend His work.
Our systems come and go,
Our temples rise and fall;
Doom, ravening to and fro,
Is written upon all.
And vanity the end,
Of every carnal search;
God's Church alone shall never bend,
And God defend His Church.
Our temples rise and fall;
Doom, ravening to and fro,
Is written upon all.
And vanity the end,
Of every carnal search;
God's Church alone shall never bend,
And God defend His Church.
“THOUGH HE SLAY ME”
Though He slay me,
I will lay me
In the dust beneath His feet;
What is trouble,
Were it double,
If it draws to death so sweet?
I will lay me
In the dust beneath His feet;
What is trouble,
Were it double,
If it draws to death so sweet?
Let to-morrow
Bring me sorrow,
Let to-day be rife with wrongs;
In my anguish,
Let me languish;
When I'm weak, yet He is strong.
Bring me sorrow,
Let to-day be rife with wrongs;
In my anguish,
Let me languish;
When I'm weak, yet He is strong.
While I trust Him,
Nought shall thrust Him,
From His empire in my heart;
Hope may leave me,
Time bereave me;
Faith shall never, never part.
Nought shall thrust Him,
From His empire in my heart;
Hope may leave me,
Time bereave me;
Faith shall never, never part.
Wild misgiving,
Death in living,
Doubts may darken as they rise;
In my shrinking—
In my sinking—
Though I know not, He is wise.
Death in living,
Doubts may darken as they rise;
In my shrinking—
In my sinking—
Though I know not, He is wise.
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If my yearnings
Lack returnings,
I can fix my love on Him;
In the Burden,
Hides the Guerdon;
He is Light, when life is dim.
Lack returnings,
I can fix my love on Him;
In the Burden,
Hides the Guerdon;
He is Light, when life is dim.
Welcome losses,
Welcome crosses,
I will bear my master's doom;
Kiss the scourges,
Breast the surges—
Though they take me to the Tomb.
Welcome crosses,
I will bear my master's doom;
Kiss the scourges,
Breast the surges—
Though they take me to the Tomb.
Days of scorning,
Nights of mourning,
Are but steps that guide to God;
Day is drearer,
When I'm nearer
To the summit Christ has trod.
Nights of mourning,
Are but steps that guide to God;
Day is drearer,
When I'm nearer
To the summit Christ has trod.
While I suffer,
Night grows rougher,
But I suffer nought in vain;
Blest and lowly,
Sweet and holy,
Is the fellowship of pain.
Night grows rougher,
But I suffer nought in vain;
Blest and lowly,
Sweet and holy,
Is the fellowship of pain.
Pain and pining,
Are refining,
For the severance of our sin;
Worldly trials,
Man's denials,
Do but make us rich within.
Are refining,
For the severance of our sin;
Worldly trials,
Man's denials,
Do but make us rich within.
Gloom is deepest,
When thou weepest,
Yet the Dawning then is nigh;
Weeping, sighing,
Daily dying,
Are that we no more may die.
When thou weepest,
Yet the Dawning then is nigh;
Weeping, sighing,
Daily dying,
Are that we no more may die.
Come then, faster,
Woe, disaster,
If ye lead the way to life;
All your troubles
Are but bubbles,
On the healing stream of strife.
Woe, disaster,
If ye lead the way to life;
All your troubles
Are but bubbles,
On the healing stream of strife.
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Though my pillows
Be the billows,
Though my bed the thorn and stone;
Sleep is broken,
As a token
That I do not sleep alone.
Be the billows,
Though my bed the thorn and stone;
Sleep is broken,
As a token
That I do not sleep alone.
To have perished
For the cherished,
Is a precious gain from loss;
But a glory,
Passing story,
Crowns the bearers of the Cross.
For the cherished,
Is a precious gain from loss;
But a glory,
Passing story,
Crowns the bearers of the Cross.
Saviour, Brother,
Not another,
Ever shall divide my love;
Fears are treasures,
Pangs are pleasures,
If they fit for Thee above.
Not another,
Ever shall divide my love;
Fears are treasures,
Pangs are pleasures,
If they fit for Thee above.
Though He slay me,
I will stay me
On the only Rock that is;
What is crying?
What is dying?
He is Life, and I am His.
I will stay me
On the only Rock that is;
What is crying?
What is dying?
He is Life, and I am His.
MEMENTO MORI.
What says the Clock of Time,
With sad and solemn chime?
I see its white and spectral face,
I hear it through the halls of Space,
With muffled voice that seems to cry,
As the dim dreary hours go bye,
That ancient and familiar story,
“Memento mori.”
With sad and solemn chime?
I see its white and spectral face,
I hear it through the halls of Space,
With muffled voice that seems to cry,
As the dim dreary hours go bye,
That ancient and familiar story,
“Memento mori.”
What says the clock of man,
Who lives his little span?
It tells of sorrow and of sin,
That suffering heart which beats within,
Which measures for each toiling day
The hopes that blossom to decay—
It speaks in dying dreams of glory,
“Memento mori.”
Who lives his little span?
It tells of sorrow and of sin,
That suffering heart which beats within,
Which measures for each toiling day
The hopes that blossom to decay—
It speaks in dying dreams of glory,
“Memento mori.”
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What says the clock of God,
Above the greenest sod?
It strikes upon the walls of stone
The doom of its deep undertone,
At which all earthly splendours bow—
It spells for the most haughty brow,
Above the boldest promontory,
“Memento mori.”
Above the greenest sod?
It strikes upon the walls of stone
The doom of its deep undertone,
At which all earthly splendours bow—
It spells for the most haughty brow,
Above the boldest promontory,
“Memento mori.”
What says the clock of Time,
That throbs through every clime?
The same calm ghostly knell gives out,
Beyond the strife of fear and doubt—
Beyond the cries that come and go,
And all this trivial ebb and flow,
While kingdoms sink in sunsets gory—
“Memento mori.”
That throbs through every clime?
The same calm ghostly knell gives out,
Beyond the strife of fear and doubt—
Beyond the cries that come and go,
And all this trivial ebb and flow,
While kingdoms sink in sunsets gory—
“Memento mori.”
What says the clock of man,
Who ends where he began?
I know it bids the teardrop start,
I feel it in this breaking heart—
Yea, childhood's happy years move round,
To the one grave and awful sound,
That tolls, as when the days are hoary,
“Memento mori.”
Who ends where he began?
I know it bids the teardrop start,
I feel it in this breaking heart—
Yea, childhood's happy years move round,
To the one grave and awful sound,
That tolls, as when the days are hoary,
“Memento mori.”
What says the clock of God,
Pointing with judgment rod?
It sighs, Things human turn to dust,
And nothing lives but love and trust—
Strong friendships fail, bright honours pass;
And grace, more fleeting than the grass,
Calls from earth's dark depository,
“Memento mori.”
Pointing with judgment rod?
It sighs, Things human turn to dust,
And nothing lives but love and trust—
Strong friendships fail, bright honours pass;
And grace, more fleeting than the grass,
Calls from earth's dark depository,
“Memento mori.”
THE HUMAN COMPASS.
One foot should centre in the Now,
Another compass the Unseen;
While the bent shoulders do not bow,
Beneath the weight of what has been.
Another compass the Unseen;
While the bent shoulders do not bow,
Beneath the weight of what has been.
One hand should grasp the present use,
And turn and shape it still to bear;
Another wrest in faith the clues,
Of Him whose hand is everywhere.
And turn and shape it still to bear;
Another wrest in faith the clues,
Of Him whose hand is everywhere.
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Thus, broadening ever more and more,
By exercise of prayer and plan,
To beat the mark we hit before,
We come unto the perfect man.
By exercise of prayer and plan,
To beat the mark we hit before,
We come unto the perfect man.
TO MY FATHER DIVINE.
Father, though I thy laws have broken,
Have wandered often and run wild;
Yet Christ has died, and by that token,
With all my faults I am thy child.
I madly wanted to be free,
But now my heart hath need of Thee.
Have wandered often and run wild;
Yet Christ has died, and by that token,
With all my faults I am thy child.
I madly wanted to be free,
But now my heart hath need of Thee.
Father, I would be pure and holy,
As was Thy own most precious Son;
I have been proud, I would be lowly.
And do what I have left undone.
I thought it better to be free,
But now my heart hath need of Thee.
As was Thy own most precious Son;
I have been proud, I would be lowly.
And do what I have left undone.
I thought it better to be free,
But now my heart hath need of Thee.
Father, I crave no higher pleading,
Than that dear Name's most sacred sign;
I know, Thy goodness has been leading
My soul, to see that it is Thine.
I vainly laboured to be free,
But now my heart hath need of Thee.
Than that dear Name's most sacred sign;
I know, Thy goodness has been leading
My soul, to see that it is Thine.
I vainly laboured to be free,
But now my heart hath need of Thee.
THE BOOK.
There is a book of sweet and solemn page,
Written by God's own hand;
With truths too vast for the most learned sage,
That babes may understand.
Written by God's own hand;
With truths too vast for the most learned sage,
That babes may understand.
It tells a story clear to every time,
So simple is its plan;
While mysteries lie there, the most sublime
That ever spoke to man.
So simple is its plan;
While mysteries lie there, the most sublime
That ever spoke to man.
Unto the humble heart its tale is plain,
And lifts the lowliest mind;
While philosophic pride may read in vain,
And nought but folly find.
And lifts the lowliest mind;
While philosophic pride may read in vain,
And nought but folly find.
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The little child, that comes in love to hear,
Will learn some lesson wise;
Though to the critic's educated sneer,
But difficulties rise.
Will learn some lesson wise;
Though to the critic's educated sneer,
But difficulties rise.
On faith it falls as softly as the dew,
And brings a living breath;
But unto reason's false perverted view,
Its savour is of death.
And brings a living breath;
But unto reason's false perverted view,
Its savour is of death.
For docile students, it divinely opes
Its wonders new and sweet;
While the inquirers swayed with earthly hopes,
No help or comfort meet.
Its wonders new and sweet;
While the inquirers swayed with earthly hopes,
No help or comfort meet.
If unto some it never can grow old,
And still its guidance lends;
To some its ray seems only dim and cold,
And mortal aims offends.
And still its guidance lends;
To some its ray seems only dim and cold,
And mortal aims offends.
And through the hands of many holy seers,
This goodly book has past;
They witnessed to it with their words and tears,
Nor grudged their lives at last.
This goodly book has past;
They witnessed to it with their words and tears,
Nor grudged their lives at last.
They knew the Spirit of the Maker moved,
In every burning Line;
And by the signs of fruitful suffering proved,
The message was Divine.
In every burning Line;
And by the signs of fruitful suffering proved,
The message was Divine.
'Tis sealed with blood of martyrs dead and gone,
Who passed through fiery strife;
Who left their record, and then handed on
The glorious lamp of Life.
Who passed through fiery strife;
Who left their record, and then handed on
The glorious lamp of Life.
For every golden Letter was the grave,
Of some heroic saint;
Who unto death his testimony gave,
That others might not faint.
Of some heroic saint;
Who unto death his testimony gave,
That others might not faint.
And though through all pleads Peace with tender sound
That bids our passions fly;
Each blessed Passage was a battle ground,
Each Verse a battle cry.
That bids our passions fly;
Each blessed Passage was a battle ground,
Each Verse a battle cry.
Around the Ark of Rest the conflict raged,
Fought at a bitter cost;
And on its waters wild and unassuaged,
The precious Truth was tost.
Fought at a bitter cost;
And on its waters wild and unassuaged,
The precious Truth was tost.
But persecution and the vilest storm,
The darkest brand of blame,
Made only yet more beautiful its form,
Like gold refined by flame.
The darkest brand of blame,
Made only yet more beautiful its form,
Like gold refined by flame.
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The furnace and the tempest in their wrath,
The foaming of the flood,
Failed still to turn its conquering path,
Though that was bathed in blood.
The foaming of the flood,
Failed still to turn its conquering path,
Though that was bathed in blood.
And for each soldier fallen in the fight,
Sprang up a hundred new;
And the Great Book grew fairer and more bright,
From every blast that blew.
Sprang up a hundred new;
And the Great Book grew fairer and more bright,
From every blast that blew.
Its guardians did not sell, for sordid hire,
The words of Sacred Writ;
And on its blessed pages sits a fire,
No mortal ever lit.
The words of Sacred Writ;
And on its blessed pages sits a fire,
No mortal ever lit.
For it was kindled at a heavenly fount,
And by no earthly spark;
And forth it shone from Sinai's mystic mount,
On ages drear and dark.
And by no earthly spark;
And forth it shone from Sinai's mystic mount,
On ages drear and dark.
And freely was it offered unto all,
A blessing without price;
For those who heard its holy trumpet call,
What other could suffice?
A blessing without price;
For those who heard its holy trumpet call,
What other could suffice?
It pierced the barrier that was built by shame,
Nor turned from aught but doubt;
The vilest soul that yet believed and came,
Was never once cast out.
Nor turned from aught but doubt;
The vilest soul that yet believed and came,
Was never once cast out.
The being that was most possest with sin,
And craved a holier lot,
Sought here and found a remedy within,
For cleansing every spot.
And craved a holier lot,
Sought here and found a remedy within,
For cleansing every spot.
It gave the hungry heart the living bread,
Which hidden was at first;
From sepulchres of sin it raised the dead,
And quenched the dying thirst.
Which hidden was at first;
From sepulchres of sin it raised the dead,
And quenched the dying thirst.
The lame leapt up at those rejoicing sounds,
The deaf began to hear,
The prisoner burst the iron of his bounds,
The coward ceased to fear.
The deaf began to hear,
The prisoner burst the iron of his bounds,
The coward ceased to fear.
It satisfied, as sages never did,
The mind's most angry throes;
And on the lost and troubled breast it slid,
With infinite repose.
The mind's most angry throes;
And on the lost and troubled breast it slid,
With infinite repose.
The sufferer felt the soothing of its strain,
Caressing as a kiss;
And sickness listened and forgot its pain,
In all that new-born bliss.
Caressing as a kiss;
And sickness listened and forgot its pain,
In all that new-born bliss.
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It stilled misgiving's voice which cried for light,
That it might look and live;
And to the blindest eyes it gave a sight,
No earthly sun could give.
That it might look and live;
And to the blindest eyes it gave a sight,
No earthly sun could give.
Those stores a medicine had for every mood,
Beams for the darkest day;
And of the thousands who had come for food,
None empty went away.
Beams for the darkest day;
And of the thousands who had come for food,
None empty went away.
The labouring, and the heavy-laden, took
Its comfort to their breast;
They laid their sorrows on the Sacred Book,
And lo, it gave them rest.
Its comfort to their breast;
They laid their sorrows on the Sacred Book,
And lo, it gave them rest.
The curse from toiling, and the sting from grief,
Its revelation drew;
The worst affliction was its own relief,
When men this solace knew.
Its revelation drew;
The worst affliction was its own relief,
When men this solace knew.
All weary souls that sin's oppression broke,
With guilt's accusing might,
Saw here the freedom of an easier yoke,
And found its burden light.
With guilt's accusing might,
Saw here the freedom of an easier yoke,
And found its burden light.
The slave who drudged in sad and sinless mines,
Nor dreamed that shadows flee,
Read in those living and imperial lines,
The charter of the free.
Nor dreamed that shadows flee,
Read in those living and imperial lines,
The charter of the free.
And as he searched his soul expanded fair,
With grace the promise gave;
He could not breathe its large and liberal air,
And yet abide a slave.
With grace the promise gave;
He could not breathe its large and liberal air,
And yet abide a slave.
For when his feet were planted on the Rock,
Where bondsmen may not stand,
His fetters snapt, as falsehood at the shock
Of Truth's avenging hand.
Where bondsmen may not stand,
His fetters snapt, as falsehood at the shock
Of Truth's avenging hand.
And though the chains lay heavy on him still,
Gone was their bitter smart;
They could not bind the motions of his will,
His unimprisoned heart.
Gone was their bitter smart;
They could not bind the motions of his will,
His unimprisoned heart.
He felt that he was spiritually free,
In hope's eternal youth;
For there was none more fetterless than he,
Enfranchised by the Truth.
In hope's eternal youth;
For there was none more fetterless than he,
Enfranchised by the Truth.
To heathens on a dark and distant shore,
The sweet glad Tidings came;
And thousands, rapt in bloody rites before
Now hailed the Saviour's name.
The sweet glad Tidings came;
And thousands, rapt in bloody rites before
Now hailed the Saviour's name.
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The hard and savage nature owned His sway,
Though nothing else could move;
And hearts, the homes of murder, learnt to pray
Unto the Lord of Love.
Though nothing else could move;
And hearts, the homes of murder, learnt to pray
Unto the Lord of Love.
And there were Gospel riches for the poor,
Given with no grudging hand;
The neediest, passing through that open door,
Entered the Golden Land.
Given with no grudging hand;
The neediest, passing through that open door,
Entered the Golden Land.
Yea, those that lacked the common things of life,
Even if they laboured sore,
Found here an end of every toil and strife,
And wanted nothing more.
Even if they laboured sore,
Found here an end of every toil and strife,
And wanted nothing more.
Weak women, trodden down by brutal force,
Gained comfort too at length;
And drew and drew from this unfailing source,
Unconquerable strength.
Gained comfort too at length;
And drew and drew from this unfailing source,
Unconquerable strength.
They learnt how victory waits upon God's will,
And faith can only save;
And how the beaten sufferers triumph still,
Who patient are and brave.
And faith can only save;
And how the beaten sufferers triumph still,
Who patient are and brave.
They saw the power of purity, the light
Which inward peace assures;
The majesty of meekness, and the might
Of courage that endures.
Which inward peace assures;
The majesty of meekness, and the might
Of courage that endures.
Hope gave them rank, and more than royal grace
Flowed from the Sacred Line;
And if from man they won the lowest place,
They had their thrones divine.
Flowed from the Sacred Line;
And if from man they won the lowest place,
They had their thrones divine.
Ennobled thus they made the world their own,
With bonds that could not fret;
They governed all with gentle laws unknown,
And sweetly govern yet.
With bonds that could not fret;
They governed all with gentle laws unknown,
And sweetly govern yet.
Such revolutions did the Blessed Book,
Work in the heart of man;
In all that cast a single faithful look,
Upon its wondrous plan.
Work in the heart of man;
In all that cast a single faithful look,
Upon its wondrous plan.
For it proclaimed the doom of pain and death,
Of sorrow, fear, and sin;
If those who breathed one penitential breath,
Would fairer lives begin.
Of sorrow, fear, and sin;
If those who breathed one penitential breath,
Would fairer lives begin.
It made men brothers who before were foes,
That love might lands ally;
And as its sweet and solemn empire rose,
Fell ethnic enmity.
That love might lands ally;
And as its sweet and solemn empire rose,
Fell ethnic enmity.
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Nor did it lower so much the loftiest pride,
Of monarchs in their might;
As raise the meanest subject to their side,
Upon one common height.
Of monarchs in their might;
As raise the meanest subject to their side,
Upon one common height.
And from the throne of its sublimer thought,
There was no upper space;
The lords that ruled, the ministers that wrought,
All held an equal place.
There was no upper space;
The lords that ruled, the ministers that wrought,
All held an equal place.
Still on it pushed the rapture of its plea,
To earth's most distant bound;
And in the surging of the farthest sea,
Was heard Salvation's sound.
To earth's most distant bound;
And in the surging of the farthest sea,
Was heard Salvation's sound.
But now in all things human it has part,
In every human tone;
Its laws are written on the living heart,
Not perishable stone.
In every human tone;
Its laws are written on the living heart,
Not perishable stone.
Its constitution is the mind of God,
And perfect is His path;
Revealed in the pure acts of Him who trod
The winepress of His wrath.
And perfect is His path;
Revealed in the pure acts of Him who trod
The winepress of His wrath.
And thus it rules, with its sweet inner sway,
By codes that gently move;
And rolls the world on the rejoicing way
Of liberty and love.
By codes that gently move;
And rolls the world on the rejoicing way
Of liberty and love.
While mortal law can only fears compel,
And moulds in iron forms;
It softly wins the passions that rebel,
And guides the headlong storms.
And moulds in iron forms;
It softly wins the passions that rebel,
And guides the headlong storms.
So tenderly it shapes and governs all,
Who follow its high track;
None ever knows he is a happy thrall,
Or asks his freedom back.
Who follow its high track;
None ever knows he is a happy thrall,
Or asks his freedom back.
With hopes that quicken, and with words that heal,
It holds an even course;
Men bow unto that pitiful appeal,
Who would not bow to force.
It holds an even course;
Men bow unto that pitiful appeal,
Who would not bow to force.
And yet its kingdom may not find an end,
While there are hearts to thrill;
While there remain one savage soul to bend,
It spreads and conquers still.
While there are hearts to thrill;
While there remain one savage soul to bend,
It spreads and conquers still.
Yea, it shall speed, till every breast is tamed,
And every will is won;
Not till each stony desert is reclaimed,
Its mission can be done.
And every will is won;
Not till each stony desert is reclaimed,
Its mission can be done.
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Then shall its Holy Spirit reign on earth,
And ills no more oppress;
While rivers brighten tracts that once were dearth,
And flowers the wilderness.
And ills no more oppress;
While rivers brighten tracts that once were dearth,
And flowers the wilderness.
Far from its quickening presence then shall fly,
Whate'er is sad and sere;
All things shall drink in fresh vitality,
In its sweet atmosphere.
Whate'er is sad and sere;
All things shall drink in fresh vitality,
In its sweet atmosphere.
While with the calm of consecrating hands,
It holds the world in fee;
Till Christ's own glory covers all the lands,
As waters clothe the sea.
It holds the world in fee;
Till Christ's own glory covers all the lands,
As waters clothe the sea.
Till Truth is universal as the air,
And like the fruitful sod;
And Love has made the meanest things, as fair
As is the Face of God.
And like the fruitful sod;
And Love has made the meanest things, as fair
As is the Face of God.
And then its duty will be done, when each,
Illumined by its lore,
Walks in the light that its grand lessons teach,
Rejoicing evermore.
Illumined by its lore,
Walks in the light that its grand lessons teach,
Rejoicing evermore.
When the last word comes down from heaven to time,
Which was its message first;
While the whole earth gives back the heavenly chime,
And souls no longer thirst.
Which was its message first;
While the whole earth gives back the heavenly chime,
And souls no longer thirst.
When the Great Book is written in the life
Of all who bore the rod,
And every son of man redeemed from strife,
Becomes a son of God.
Of all who bore the rod,
And every son of man redeemed from strife,
Becomes a son of God.
“UNTO ME.”
Late, late one evening to my door
A little child drew near,
His face was pale, his raiment poor,
He staggered on the cottage floor,
As though in mortal fear;
His mien was innocent and mild,
He seemed a lonely orphan child,
To no one dear.
A little child drew near,
His face was pale, his raiment poor,
He staggered on the cottage floor,
As though in mortal fear;
His mien was innocent and mild,
He seemed a lonely orphan child,
To no one dear.
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No word he uttered, but his look
Was full of sorrow grave,
As if he could no longer brook
The cruel breasts, that thus forsook
The sufferer they might save;
And still no anger formed a part
Within that warm and gentle heart,
Which all forgave.
Was full of sorrow grave,
As if he could no longer brook
The cruel breasts, that thus forsook
The sufferer they might save;
And still no anger formed a part
Within that warm and gentle heart,
Which all forgave.
I opened wide to him my arms,
And took him to my breast;
I gathered all his childish charms,
Far from the faintest breath of harms,
Safe in that home of rest.
I said, Thou shalt abide with me
For ever, and for ever be
My heart's own guest.
And took him to my breast;
I gathered all his childish charms,
Far from the faintest breath of harms,
Safe in that home of rest.
I said, Thou shalt abide with me
For ever, and for ever be
My heart's own guest.
And then he spake in accents low,—
“Yes, I have wandered far,
With footsteps weak from pain and slow,
Seeking for love's bright beacon glow,
To find the prison bar;
In every house each eye seemed blind
To my distress, nor could I find
One door ajar.”
“Yes, I have wandered far,
With footsteps weak from pain and slow,
Seeking for love's bright beacon glow,
To find the prison bar;
In every house each eye seemed blind
To my distress, nor could I find
One door ajar.”
And as he told his bitter lot,
In sorrow free from hate,
A sudden glory, seemed to blot
Out with its light whatever spot
Upon his garment sate;
A wondrous change his features shook,
And as he rose his movements took
A heavenly state.
In sorrow free from hate,
A sudden glory, seemed to blot
Out with its light whatever spot
Upon his garment sate;
A wondrous change his features shook,
And as he rose his movements took
A heavenly state.
Strange light the room began to fill,
Which mortal scarce could see;
And solemn words that sent a thrill,
Fell from those blessed lips, that still
More beauteous seemed to be;—
“Love rendered to the humblest one,
In humblest acts, is kindness done
Even unto Me.”
Which mortal scarce could see;
And solemn words that sent a thrill,
Fell from those blessed lips, that still
More beauteous seemed to be;—
“Love rendered to the humblest one,
In humblest acts, is kindness done
Even unto Me.”
THE INCARNATION OF INNOCENCE.
When Innocence came down to earth,
To scatter flowers o'er fields of dearth,
And sunshine on the storm;
She with her brought a human mind,
But left her heavenly robes behind,
And found a humbler form.
To scatter flowers o'er fields of dearth,
And sunshine on the storm;
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But left her heavenly robes behind,
And found a humbler form.
She could not show her perfect grace,
But put a veil upon her face,
And bore another name;
She did not wear a dazzling dress,
But just the simple loveliness
That clothes the tenderest frame.
But put a veil upon her face,
And bore another name;
She did not wear a dazzling dress,
But just the simple loveliness
That clothes the tenderest frame.
She might have come in angel might,
With brightness, blasting mortal sight,
No earthly cloud could drape;
She chose a lowlier, lovelier dower,
And weakness made a grander power,
And took an infant shape.
With brightness, blasting mortal sight,
No earthly cloud could drape;
She chose a lowlier, lovelier dower,
And weakness made a grander power,
And took an infant shape.
“NOT FOR MYSELF BUT THEE.”
I ask for riches, Lord that they—
May consecrated be,
To Thy dear service night and day—
Not for myself but Thee.
May consecrated be,
To Thy dear service night and day—
Not for myself but Thee.
I ask for glory, Lord, that I
May more Thy greatness see;
To make the offering paid most high—
Not for myself but Thee.
May more Thy greatness see;
To make the offering paid most high—
Not for myself but Thee.
I ask for power, that thereby, Lord,
I may from dangers flee;
To use it as a conquering sword—
Not for myself but Thee.
I may from dangers flee;
To use it as a conquering sword—
Not for myself but Thee.
I ask for rank, O Lord, if it
May add a stronger plea,
One sinner to Thy side to knit—
Not for myself but Thee.
May add a stronger plea,
One sinner to Thy side to knit—
Not for myself but Thee.
I ask for grace, O Lord, that thus
I may not bow the knee
In vain, for Him who died for us—
Not for myself but Thee.
I may not bow the knee
In vain, for Him who died for us—
Not for myself but Thee.
I ask for health, O Lord, and strength,
To hold the world in fee,
Till all accept the Cross, at length—
Not for myself but Thee.
To hold the world in fee,
Till all accept the Cross, at length—
Not for myself but Thee.
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I ask for victory, Lord that led
On by Thy guidance, we,
Who trust, may find our mission sped—
Not for myself but Thee.
On by Thy guidance, we,
Who trust, may find our mission sped—
Not for myself but Thee.
I ask for knowledge, Lord, whose arms
Are mightier than the sea;
To snare the wicked in its charms—
Not for myself but Thee.
Are mightier than the sea;
To snare the wicked in its charms—
Not for myself but Thee.
I ask, O Lord, for human love,
Soft as the lilied lea;
Thy drooping souls to lift above—
Not for myself but Thee.
Soft as the lilied lea;
Thy drooping souls to lift above—
Not for myself but Thee.
I ask for gladness, Lord, to bloom
Like an o'ershadowing tree;
To lighten sufferers wrapped in gloom—
Not for myself but Thee.
Like an o'ershadowing tree;
To lighten sufferers wrapped in gloom—
Not for myself but Thee.
I ask for all, Lord, that is meet,
Of which Thou hast the key;
That I may lay it at Thy feet—
Not for myself but Thee.
Of which Thou hast the key;
That I may lay it at Thy feet—
Not for myself but Thee.
I am ambitious, Lord, of fame,
And evermore shall be;
But only to exalt Thy name—
Not for myself but Thee.
And evermore shall be;
But only to exalt Thy name—
Not for myself but Thee.
I am most jealous, Lord, to tell,
That men may clearly see,
Thy honour is their own as well—
Not for myself but Thee.
That men may clearly see,
Thy honour is their own as well—
Not for myself but Thee.
I am possest, O Lord, with pride,
From which I would not flee;
Which has no room for ought beside—
Not for myself but Thee.
From which I would not flee;
Which has no room for ought beside—
Not for myself but Thee.
I am a greedy man, O Lord,
But righteous is my plea;
That all things tribute may àfford—
Not for myself but Thee.
But righteous is my plea;
That all things tribute may àfford—
Not for myself but Thee.
I often quarrel, Lord, with souls,
And wrestle on my knee;
That they may learn thy love controls—
Not for myself but Thee.
And wrestle on my knee;
That they may learn thy love controls—
Not for myself but Thee.
I nourish anger, Lord, at sin,
Which dying has as fee;
Poor wanderers from thy fold to win—
Not for myself but Thee.
Which dying has as fee;
Poor wanderers from thy fold to win—
Not for myself but Thee.
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I feel a hatred, Lord, of ill
Which dogs our path, lest we,
Who trust, should magnify Thy will—
Not for myself but Thee.
Which dogs our path, lest we,
Who trust, should magnify Thy will—
Not for myself but Thee.
I am impatient, Lord, with hearts
That ope not to Thy key;
To ply them with a thousand arts—
Not for myself but Thee.
That ope not to Thy key;
To ply them with a thousand arts—
Not for myself but Thee.
O Lord, I ever crave for more,
Till truth is like the sea,
And bathes the world from shore to shore—
Not for myself but Thee.
Till truth is like the sea,
And bathes the world from shore to shore—
Not for myself but Thee.
Lord, I would wish the earth my own,
And plant each barren lea;
Only to lay it at Thy throne—
Not for myself but Thee.
And plant each barren lea;
Only to lay it at Thy throne—
Not for myself but Thee.
I have no will, O Lord, but Thine,
Make it a fruitful tree;
That every thought may be Divine—
Not for myself but Thee.
Make it a fruitful tree;
That every thought may be Divine—
Not for myself but Thee.
THE CHURCH.
The times are dark with danger,
The Church is wrapt in gloom;
The infidel and stranger
Are striving for her doom.
The guardians, whom she nourished,
Against her stand arrayed;
And friends, who by her flourished,
Have their high trust betrayed.
But shall she lose her glory,
Her fair immortal youth,
The dear old Church of story,
The grand old Church of Truth?
The Church is wrapt in gloom;
The infidel and stranger
Are striving for her doom.
The guardians, whom she nourished,
Against her stand arrayed;
And friends, who by her flourished,
Have their high trust betrayed.
But shall she lose her glory,
Her fair immortal youth,
The dear old Church of story,
The grand old Church of Truth?
Lo, she has stood for ages,
Unharmed through storms of strife;
And England's brightest pages,
Are written in her life.
In country she and city,
The champion of the poor;
And none who knock for pity,
Go empty from her door.
But shall she lose her glory,
Her fair immortal youth,
The dear old Church of story,
The grand old Church of Truth?
Unharmed through storms of strife;
And England's brightest pages,
Are written in her life.
In country she and city,
The champion of the poor;
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Go empty from her door.
But shall she lose her glory,
Her fair immortal youth,
The dear old Church of story,
The grand old Church of Truth?
Yes, when the days were dreary,
She yet her comfort gave—
A refuge for the weary,
His freedom to the slave.
When came from woe and welter,
The cry of suffering weak,
Strong was her arm to shelter,
Ready her voice to speak.
But shall she lose her glory,
Her fair immortal youth,
The dear old Church of story,
The grand old Church of Truth?
She yet her comfort gave—
A refuge for the weary,
His freedom to the slave.
When came from woe and welter,
The cry of suffering weak,
Strong was her arm to shelter,
Ready her voice to speak.
But shall she lose her glory,
Her fair immortal youth,
The dear old Church of story,
The grand old Church of Truth?
We will not let her perish,
She shall not suffer ill;
Her loyal hearts shall cherish
The Mother they love still.
If foes against her sally,
In ever-deepening lines,
Her loyal hands shall rally,
Around their holy shrines.
She shall not lose her glory,
Her fair immortal youth,
The dear old Church of story,
The grand old Church of Truth.
She shall not suffer ill;
Her loyal hearts shall cherish
The Mother they love still.
If foes against her sally,
In ever-deepening lines,
Her loyal hands shall rally,
Around their holy shrines.
She shall not lose her glory,
Her fair immortal youth,
The dear old Church of story,
The grand old Church of Truth.
“HE HATH DONE ALL THINGS WELL.”
“He hath done all things well.” The joy and sorrow
Flow from the fountain of Eternal Love;
The bright to-day and the forlorn to-morrow,
Both drew their sanction from His throne above.
Flow from the fountain of Eternal Love;
The bright to-day and the forlorn to-morrow,
Both drew their sanction from His throne above.
“He hath done all things well.” The dower and duty
Are meted out by the same bounteous Hand;
The saddest blemish and the sweetest beauty
Obey alike His one Divine command.
Are meted out by the same bounteous Hand;
The saddest blemish and the sweetest beauty
Obey alike His one Divine command.
“He hath done all things well.” The eyes that darken,
When all around is laughing in the light,
And the dim ears that nevermore may hearken,
Stand known and cared for in His holy sight.
When all around is laughing in the light,
And the dim ears that nevermore may hearken,
Stand known and cared for in His holy sight.
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“He hath done all things well.” The baby fingers
That for a moment play a baby part,
And the broad grasp that o'er a nation lingers,
Touch chords within His universal heart.
That for a moment play a baby part,
And the broad grasp that o'er a nation lingers,
Touch chords within His universal heart.
“He hath done all things well.” The strong limb broken,
With the fleet footsteps has an equal share;
The shout of triumph, the dumb words unspoken,
Are numbered by His wise and watchful care.
With the fleet footsteps has an equal share;
The shout of triumph, the dumb words unspoken,
Are numbered by His wise and watchful care.
“He hath done all things well.” The torrent rolling
Its flood of woe on helpless souls that fret,
The wedding chime and the deep death-hell tolling,
Are in the book of His remembrance set.
Its flood of woe on helpless souls that fret,
The wedding chime and the deep death-hell tolling,
Are in the book of His remembrance set.
“He hath done all things well.” He heeds not rather
The hopes like sunbeams, than the fears like night;
Alike are shine and shade to the great Father,
Who dwells within the darkness as the light.
The hopes like sunbeams, than the fears like night;
Alike are shine and shade to the great Father,
Who dwells within the darkness as the light.
“He hath done all things well.” The sigh that trembles
Into the silence that is still no rest,
And the faint whisper that its woe dissembles,
Find a responsive echo in His breast.
Into the silence that is still no rest,
And the faint whisper that its woe dissembles,
Find a responsive echo in His breast.
“He hath done all things well.” The lip of pleasure
Is but the answering to His kindly call;
And voices weeping for the loved lost treasure,
Are just as dear to Him who fashioned all.
Is but the answering to His kindly call;
And voices weeping for the loved lost treasure,
Are just as dear to Him who fashioned all.
“He hath done all things well.” The cares that troubled,
Were halved by him who in our weakness trod;
The calm delights and conquering hopes are doubled
By the glad presence of the Son of God.
Were halved by him who in our weakness trod;
The calm delights and conquering hopes are doubled
By the glad presence of the Son of God.
“He hath done all things well.” The watchman's patience
Is marked, and is the violated troth;
The happy meetings, the sad separations,
He counts and in His glory feels them both.
Is marked, and is the violated troth;
The happy meetings, the sad separations,
He counts and in His glory feels them both.
“He hath done all things well.” The stormy trying,
And the sweet summer of the settled mind,
The living lessons and the daily dying,
His calm hands weigh that only loose and bind.
And the sweet summer of the settled mind,
The living lessons and the daily dying,
His calm hands weigh that only loose and bind.
“He hath done all things well.” The faith that bridges
Ocean and desert in its giant stride,
And doubt that stumbles at the lowliest ridges,
Have each a place and hearing at His side.
Ocean and desert in its giant stride,
And doubt that stumbles at the lowliest ridges,
Have each a place and hearing at His side.
“He hath done all things well.” The timid paces
Just entering blindly a black world of harms,
And the bold plunge in far celestial spaces,
Are gathered in the compass of His arms.
Just entering blindly a black world of harms,
And the bold plunge in far celestial spaces,
Are gathered in the compass of His arms.
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“He hath done all things well.” The bane and blessing
The mapped out life and the unwritten plan,
Are all but portions of His grand caressing,
Who is our Brother and the Son of Man.
The mapped out life and the unwritten plan,
Are all but portions of His grand caressing,
Who is our Brother and the Son of Man.
HOLD ME!
Here am I, O Saviour sweet,
Cast by sorrow at Thy feet;
Take me as I am and bend
To some consecrated end;
Make me olive branch or sword,
Only do Thou hold me, Lord.
Cast by sorrow at Thy feet;
Take me as I am and bend
To some consecrated end;
Make me olive branch or sword,
Only do Thou hold me, Lord.
Here I am! I had no choice,
But to listen to Thy voice;
Use me wholly at Thy will,
Though for sadness use me still;
I can drink the bitter cup,
If Thou, Lord, dost hold me up.
But to listen to Thy voice;
Use me wholly at Thy will,
Though for sadness use me still;
I can drink the bitter cup,
If Thou, Lord, dost hold me up.
Here I am! O take me all,
Body, soul—for Thou didst call;
I should deem it service meet,
Lying only at Thy feet;
Be it suffering, be it song,
Hold me—and I shall be strong.
Body, soul—for Thou didst call;
I should deem it service meet,
Lying only at Thy feet;
Be it suffering, be it song,
Hold me—and I shall be strong.
Here I am! I fain would be,
Just what Thou dost fashion me;
Make me what Thou art, and then
Thee will I make known to men;
Silver ask I not, nor gold,
But that Thou my footsteps hold.
Just what Thou dost fashion me;
Make me what Thou art, and then
Thee will I make known to men;
Silver ask I not, nor gold,
But that Thou my footsteps hold.
Here am I! And here I lay
All, and own no other sway;
Hold me waking, hold in sleep,
For myself I cannot keep;
When I triumph, when I bow,
Hold me ever—hold me now.
All, and own no other sway;
Hold me waking, hold in sleep,
For myself I cannot keep;
When I triumph, when I bow,
Hold me ever—hold me now.
AT THE DOOR.
I stand in darkness at the door,
All soiled with sin;
Too faint to knock or wander more;
O let me in!
All soiled with sin;
Too faint to knock or wander more;
O let me in!
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Lord Jesus, open unto me;
For Thou hast said,
At evening time a light shall be
On wanderers shed.
For Thou hast said,
At evening time a light shall be
On wanderers shed.
And having left, for mortal fare,
The mansions bright,
Thou spentest off in pleading prayer,
The livelong night.
The mansions bright,
Thou spentest off in pleading prayer,
The livelong night.
And Thou hast consecrated thus,
The darkest grade;
Transforming into light for us
The very shade.
The darkest grade;
Transforming into light for us
The very shade.
But some there are who cannot see,
Whose eyes are blind;
Who dare not lift a look to Thee,
Or raise the mind.
Whose eyes are blind;
Who dare not lift a look to Thee,
Or raise the mind.
And I am one whose spirit needs,
And feebly flags;
I reckon all my purest deeds,
As filthy rags.
And feebly flags;
I reckon all my purest deeds,
As filthy rags.
I can but smite my troubled breast,
And hang my head;
So sad I feel with such unrest,
So cold and dead.
And hang my head;
So sad I feel with such unrest,
So cold and dead.
My wishes bless to love Thee more,
Though few they are;
Make all my dross as golden ore,
Each stain a star.
Though few they are;
Make all my dross as golden ore,
Each stain a star.
My strongest faith is strangely weak,
Nor seems to grow;
I know not rightly how to speak,
But Thou dost know.
Nor seems to grow;
I know not rightly how to speak,
But Thou dost know.
O Saviour, let Thy voice be heard,
Some token give;
That I may catch the saving word,
“Look up and live.”
Some token give;
That I may catch the saving word,
“Look up and live.”
THE DOVE.
O'er the hills and through the valleys,
I was wandering far;
Where the flood its forces rallies,
Ere it bursts its bar;
Where the mountain summit dallies,
With the morning star.
I was wandering far;
Where the flood its forces rallies,
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Where the mountain summit dallies,
With the morning star.
All unshepherded and shiftless,
All without a way;
Wrapped in darkness deep and riftless,
Night at noon of day;
Homeless, friendless, thoughtless, thriftless,
Ever more astray.
All without a way;
Wrapped in darkness deep and riftless,
Night at noon of day;
Homeless, friendless, thoughtless, thriftless,
Ever more astray.
Only had I as my fellow,
Flint that tore my feet;
Only waters wan and yellow,
My conductors meet;
Not a gleam the gloom to mellow,
In its solemn seat.
Flint that tore my feet;
Only waters wan and yellow,
My conductors meet;
Not a gleam the gloom to mellow,
In its solemn seat.
Up above the sun was hidden,
In a hateful shroud;
Down below the breezes chidden,
Dared not pipe aloud;
All around was hope forbidden,
Everywhere a cloud.
In a hateful shroud;
Down below the breezes chidden,
Dared not pipe aloud;
All around was hope forbidden,
Everywhere a cloud.
Then when life was nigh despairing,
Sped the blessèd bird;
When my travail most was wearing,
Streams of gladness stirred;
Spoke when pain was overbearing,
Like a wingèd word.
Sped the blessèd bird;
When my travail most was wearing,
Streams of gladness stirred;
Spoke when pain was overbearing,
Like a wingèd word.
Yes, when love was dimly treading,
Dawned that heavenly Dove;
Gentle drops of sunshine shedding,
Bright from springs above;
Wings of healing fondly spreading,
From the land of Love.
Dawned that heavenly Dove;
Gentle drops of sunshine shedding,
Bright from springs above;
Wings of healing fondly spreading,
From the land of Love.
In its beak a tender token,
Olive branch and bud;
But its plumes were bruised and broken,
And its bosom blood;
Like a spirit that has spoken,
With the fire and flood.
Olive branch and bud;
But its plumes were bruised and broken,
And its bosom blood;
Like a spirit that has spoken,
With the fire and flood.
And I lifted hand and took it.
Took it to my breast;
In the shelter nothing shook it,
But the heart it prest;
Till the throbbing all forsook it,
All but throbs of rest.
Took it to my breast;
In the shelter nothing shook it,
But the heart it prest;
Till the throbbing all forsook it,
All but throbs of rest.
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Then a change came on my being,
Breathing shadows bright—
To my blinded eyes a seeing,
That was more than sight;
In the walls of darkness fleeing,
Opened doors of light.
Breathing shadows bright—
To my blinded eyes a seeing,
That was more than sight;
In the walls of darkness fleeing,
Opened doors of light.
O the rapture then that blended,
With a blesséd pain!
O the weary thirst that ended,
In refreshing rain!
O the glory that descended,
Starring every stain!
With a blesséd pain!
O the weary thirst that ended,
In refreshing rain!
O the glory that descended,
Starring every stain!
Softly pleading, sweetly calling,
Sang the voice of Peace;
Bade the evil stay its thralling,
Made misgivings cease;
Like the hush of evening falling,
On some soul's release.
Sang the voice of Peace;
Bade the evil stay its thralling,
Made misgivings cease;
Like the hush of evening falling,
On some soul's release.
And I knew that love had found Him,
Him it least had sought;
That these hands which once had bound him,
Now for Jesus wrought;
Now and evermore enwound Him,
In one kindly thought.
Him it least had sought;
That these hands which once had bound him,
Now for Jesus wrought;
Now and evermore enwound Him,
In one kindly thought.
One fond deed of faithful straining,
To a brother blest;
One pure wish for simply gaining,
One poor bosom rest;
Hath for angels entertaining,
Maketh God the guest.
To a brother blest;
One pure wish for simply gaining,
One poor bosom rest;
Hath for angels entertaining,
Maketh God the guest.
Waters coolly, sweetly welling,
Through the desert roll,
Rocks and hills in vain rebelling,
At their tender toll;
Peace erects its richest dwelling,
In the barest soul.
Through the desert roll,
Rocks and hills in vain rebelling,
At their tender toll;
Peace erects its richest dwelling,
In the barest soul.
Christ hath breathed His larger blessings,
On the halt and blind;
And His hand its softer pressings,
Keepeth for the kind;
Heaven comes down with most caressings,
On the lowly mind.
On the halt and blind;
And His hand its softer pressings,
Keepeth for the kind;
Heaven comes down with most caressings,
On the lowly mind.
O'er the hill and through the valley,
I was wandering still;
Where the torrent surges sally,
Like some wicked will;
Where in moans unmusically,
Hollow calls to hill.
I was wandering still;
Where the torrent surges sally,
Like some wicked will;
Where in moans unmusically,
Hollow calls to hill.
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Every step was toil and trouble,
Every breath was pain;
Folly like a bursting bubble,
Died and left—a stain;
And the darkness was as double,
In the light to gain.
Every breath was pain;
Folly like a bursting bubble,
Died and left—a stain;
And the darkness was as double,
In the light to gain.
When the Dove in mercy speeding,
To those barren bounds;
Trembling, torn and tossed, and bleeding,
Came with saving sounds;
Only just its weakness pleading,
Only just its wounds.
To those barren bounds;
Trembling, torn and tossed, and bleeding,
Came with saving sounds;
Only just its weakness pleading,
Only just its wounds.
Then my vices lost their splendour,
When I took this guest;
Gave it welcome true and tender,
Gave it of my best;
Though the whole that I could render,
Was an empty breast.
When I took this guest;
Gave it welcome true and tender,
Gave it of my best;
Though the whole that I could render,
Was an empty breast.
I who sought no path but pleasure,
Found alone its stings;
I who made myself the measure,
Of eternal things;
Having nothing now, have treasure
Greater far than kings.
Found alone its stings;
I who made myself the measure,
Of eternal things;
Having nothing now, have treasure
Greater far than kings.
Now when storm waves round me welter,
Peace has most its part;
He who but has truly felt her,
Feels no earthly smart;
And the Dove has still its shelter,
Nestling at my heart.
Peace has most its part;
He who but has truly felt her,
Feels no earthly smart;
And the Dove has still its shelter,
Nestling at my heart.
THE SUPPER OF THE SOUL.
Come, my soul, and set the dishes,
For the goodly meal;
Not a feast of loaves and fishes,
Nor of earthly weal;
But of higher hopes and wishes,
And of thoughts that kneel.
For the goodly meal;
Not a feast of loaves and fishes,
Nor of earthly weal;
But of higher hopes and wishes,
And of thoughts that kneel.
God, my soul, has spread the table,
With the Bread of Life;
Though thy foes are more than fable,
And their wrath is rife;
He shall smite their pride like Babel,
He shall quench their strife.
With the Bread of Life;
Though thy foes are more than fable,
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He shall smite their pride like Babel,
He shall quench their strife.
Faith, my soul, with promise wrestles,
In the hour of need;
Till it brings the precious vessels,
That the fainting feed;
And the Dove of Mercy nestles,
In the wounds that bleed.
In the hour of need;
Till it brings the precious vessels,
That the fainting feed;
And the Dove of Mercy nestles,
In the wounds that bleed.
All, my soul, both food and platter,
Are God's gifts and care;
Time is but a little matter,
Yet thou hast thy share;
And the feasts that make thee fatter,
Are the fasts of prayer.
Are God's gifts and care;
Time is but a little matter,
Yet thou hast thy share;
And the feasts that make thee fatter,
Are the fasts of prayer.
Christ Himself is plate and chalice,
Christ is drink and meat;
And we build the banquet's palace,
When we kiss His feet;
But the world's own meat is malice,
And its drink deceit.
Christ is drink and meat;
And we build the banquet's palace,
When we kiss His feet;
But the world's own meat is malice,
And its drink deceit.
Earth has only starving pleasures,
Food that frets and harms;
But with overflowing measures,
Christ our hunger calms;
Yet we never taste His treasures,
Till within His arms.
Food that frets and harms;
But with overflowing measures,
Christ our hunger calms;
Yet we never taste His treasures,
Till within His arms.
Earth is but a sorry planner,
When our wealth has ceased;
But our prayers are mixed with manna,
When we know it least;
And the heart that sings Hosanna,
Has the fairest feast.
When our wealth has ceased;
But our prayers are mixed with manna,
When we know it least;
And the heart that sings Hosanna,
Has the fairest feast.
Though I have no human mother,
Though no father be,
Heavenly Jesus, Holy Brother,
Bid my hunger flee;
Bring Thyself and not another.
Come and sup with me.
Though no father be,
Heavenly Jesus, Holy Brother,
Bid my hunger flee;
Bring Thyself and not another.
Come and sup with me.
THE SHADOW
There is a Shadow deep,
That darkens with the years,
Where sufferers sadly watch and weep—
The shadow of our fears.
That darkens with the years,
Where sufferers sadly watch and weep—
The shadow of our fears.
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There is a shadow dim,
That lightens as we look;
Shed by the brooding love of Him,
Who once our nature took.
That lightens as we look;
Shed by the brooding love of Him,
Who once our nature took.
There is a shadow bright,
That broadens as we go;
A shadow that is all our light,
When tears of trouble flow.
That broadens as we go;
A shadow that is all our light,
When tears of trouble flow.
There is a shadow sweet,
That streams from Jesu's hand;
That stays the weary waiting feet,
And strengthens hope to stand.
That streams from Jesu's hand;
That stays the weary waiting feet,
And strengthens hope to stand.
There is a shadow soft,
By “clouds of glory” made;
And sinners seek that shelter oft,
Who once have felt its shade.
By “clouds of glory” made;
And sinners seek that shelter oft,
Who once have felt its shade.
There is a shadow calm,
Poured from the gates of Life;
That for each bruise has precious balm,
In stillness as in strife.
Poured from the gates of Life;
That for each bruise has precious balm,
In stillness as in strife.
There is a shadow fair,
That nothing false can give;
When Truth sets up its cross of care,
For those that look and live.
That nothing false can give;
When Truth sets up its cross of care,
For those that look and live.
There is a shadow yet,
That has no part in night;
The shadow of the dreadful debt,
Which Love has changed to light.
That has no part in night;
The shadow of the dreadful debt,
Which Love has changed to light.
There is a shadow cast,
On cruel scorn and scars;
By Mercy blotting out the past,
And turning stains to stars.
On cruel scorn and scars;
By Mercy blotting out the past,
And turning stains to stars.
There is a shadow dear,
That draws us near to grace;
Told by the timid unshed tear,
The wan and wistful face.
That draws us near to grace;
Told by the timid unshed tear,
The wan and wistful face.
There is a shadow shown,
Though ne'er a cloud is by;
From troubles that are all unknown,
And depths that round us lie.
Though ne'er a cloud is by;
From troubles that are all unknown,
And depths that round us lie.
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There is a shadow rare,
From overflowing rays;
When all the inner life is prayer,
And all the outward praise.
From overflowing rays;
When all the inner life is prayer,
And all the outward praise.
There is a shadow wrought,
Like that of temple walls;
The shadow of a holy thought,
That blesses where it falls.
Like that of temple walls;
The shadow of a holy thought,
That blesses where it falls.
There is a shadow felt,
When not a glimpse is seen;
From angels that have with us dwelt,
And joys that might have been.
When not a glimpse is seen;
From angels that have with us dwelt,
And joys that might have been.
There is a shadow glad,
Beyond the gloom of Time;
Left by the glorious deeds, that had
Their fount in faith sublime.
Beyond the gloom of Time;
Left by the glorious deeds, that had
Their fount in faith sublime.
There is a shadow wreathed,
Round all our brightest bliss;
By gayest sounds of music breathed,
And in the sweetest kiss.
Round all our brightest bliss;
By gayest sounds of music breathed,
And in the sweetest kiss.
There is a shadow here,
In every act and aim;
It binds the cradle to the bier,
The shadow of our shame.
In every act and aim;
It binds the cradle to the bier,
The shadow of our shame.
There is a shadow set,
For ever at our side;
When sickness haunts and sorrows fret,
Our truest, tenderest guide.
For ever at our side;
When sickness haunts and sorrows fret,
Our truest, tenderest guide.
There is a shadow sure,
Though all the world be loss;
Where Christ has fixed His palace pure;
The shadow of the Cross.
Though all the world be loss;
Where Christ has fixed His palace pure;
The shadow of the Cross.
There is a shadow thrown
O'er every living bloom;
Which He through dying made His own,
The shadow of the tomb.
O'er every living bloom;
Which He through dying made His own,
The shadow of the tomb.
There is a shadow still,
A new and nobler text,
For wanderers in this world of ill—
The shadow of the next.
A new and nobler text,
For wanderers in this world of ill—
The shadow of the next.
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There is one shadow more,
To close this passing breath;
The burden that our Saviour bore,
The shadow that is death.
To close this passing breath;
The burden that our Saviour bore,
The shadow that is death.
Then let us humbly pray,
While still the darkness lours;
That when the shadow flees away,
The substance may be ours.
While still the darkness lours;
That when the shadow flees away,
The substance may be ours.
Christ is the living Truth,
That all the shadows teach;
In gloomy age and clouded youth,
He is the Sun of each.
That all the shadows teach;
In gloomy age and clouded youth,
He is the Sun of each.
And in His city bright,
One shadow yet remains;
Shed in the sweet excess of light,
By Love that never wanes.
One shadow yet remains;
Shed in the sweet excess of light,
By Love that never wanes.
His gates are never shut,
On faith that waits and clings;
The shadow most we dread, is but
The shadow of His wings.
On faith that waits and clings;
The shadow most we dread, is but
The shadow of His wings.
CHILDLESS.
Lord give me children or I die—I die!
Thou art not childless, and to Thee I cry,
For blessings of the breasts and of the heart,
Like streams of joy that sterile pastures part.
I only ask Thee for the bright soft head
Turned slowly upward, with the tears unshed,
In laughing eyes that peep through fingers pink,
That turn and move the heart with many a link;
I only ask Thee for the climbing hands,
And clinging lips with infantine demands;
I only ask Thee, Lord, (be Thine the choice),
For just the blessing of a living voice,
And common comforts that are idly tost—
So lightly taken, and so lightly lost—
From hearth to hearth in humblest homes and ranks,
As things scarce worthy of our daily thanks.
Thou art not childless, and to Thee I cry,
For blessings of the breasts and of the heart,
Like streams of joy that sterile pastures part.
I only ask Thee for the bright soft head
Turned slowly upward, with the tears unshed,
In laughing eyes that peep through fingers pink,
That turn and move the heart with many a link;
I only ask Thee for the climbing hands,
And clinging lips with infantine demands;
I only ask Thee, Lord, (be Thine the choice),
For just the blessing of a living voice,
And common comforts that are idly tost—
So lightly taken, and so lightly lost—
From hearth to hearth in humblest homes and ranks,
As things scarce worthy of our daily thanks.
For I am as a sad and barren field,
That men have ploughed, and yet it does not yield—
That men have sown, and yet it will not bear—
That rain and sun and no unkindly air
Have visited, and yet the niggard earth
Brings nought but thorns and thistles to the birth.
But (it may be) that to the latter dews,
Even at the last, it could not still refuse
A better growth—and as the seasons went,
Waxed fair and fruitful with glad sounds and scent;
And clothed itself with precious gold and corn,
To meet the pleasant kisses of the morn.
That men have ploughed, and yet it does not yield—
That men have sown, and yet it will not bear—
That rain and sun and no unkindly air
Have visited, and yet the niggard earth
Brings nought but thorns and thistles to the birth.
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Even at the last, it could not still refuse
A better growth—and as the seasons went,
Waxed fair and fruitful with glad sounds and scent;
And clothed itself with precious gold and corn,
To meet the pleasant kisses of the morn.
And I am childless among men, and go
Shamefaced and with a weight of voiceless woe,
And delicately tread in darkened ways;
Far from the trouble of rejoicing rays,
And childish prattle—fearing lest the dart
Of arrowy jests should pierce my stricken heart,
And mock my misery—hoping against hope,
The doors of mercy ere the night may ope.
While women taunt me, though they speak not loud;
And all my life is heavy with a cloud.
O Lord, have pity on my utter drouth!
And let me feel the little lips and mouth
Warm on my bosom, drawing life and love
(With sacred hidden joys) to light above,
From deep heart fountains. Blessed Lord, I long,
To murmur once the mother's cradle song;
To catch the baby kisses on my brows,
And sweet soft breath that answers tender vows
In mute caresses—yea, I long so much
To know the rapture of the kindling touch,
From something nestling in my happy arms,
And winning love with strange undreamed-of charms—
A portion of myself, this flesh and bone—
All, all my babe—my own, my very own,
And not another's. Give my hands to fold
The blind small fingers feeling for some hold,
And wandering dimly on their wondering way,
Half sounding the new world and half in play;
And grant the graces of the speaking eyes,
So round and big with pitiful surmise,
That plead for fondling. Grant the mother's name,
And trustful treasure of the loosening frame
That thaws in slumber, sliding to its rest;
Rising and falling on the heaving breast,
Life of my life. Let Mercy yield my prayer,
Bodied in leaping limbs and curling hair,
In lustrous glances—and the mimic show
Of striving, but with blessing in the blow,
More dear than salutations cheap and rife,
And careless kisses of the common life.
O Lord, I weary—weary for the sound
Of little feet that patter o'er the ground,
And echo on in many hopes and fears,
For ever and for ever through the years—
Through the long chambers of the loving soul,
In melodies that ripple as they roll
With waves of welcome—through the dreamlit lands,
That open at the knock of little hands,
And flood the world with sunshine, when the day
Is blindly groping on its shadowy way—
Through hearth and home and the memorial breast,
And mingling with the music of the Blest.
Shamefaced and with a weight of voiceless woe,
And delicately tread in darkened ways;
Far from the trouble of rejoicing rays,
And childish prattle—fearing lest the dart
Of arrowy jests should pierce my stricken heart,
And mock my misery—hoping against hope,
The doors of mercy ere the night may ope.
While women taunt me, though they speak not loud;
And all my life is heavy with a cloud.
O Lord, have pity on my utter drouth!
And let me feel the little lips and mouth
Warm on my bosom, drawing life and love
(With sacred hidden joys) to light above,
From deep heart fountains. Blessed Lord, I long,
To murmur once the mother's cradle song;
To catch the baby kisses on my brows,
And sweet soft breath that answers tender vows
In mute caresses—yea, I long so much
To know the rapture of the kindling touch,
From something nestling in my happy arms,
And winning love with strange undreamed-of charms—
A portion of myself, this flesh and bone—
All, all my babe—my own, my very own,
And not another's. Give my hands to fold
The blind small fingers feeling for some hold,
And wandering dimly on their wondering way,
Half sounding the new world and half in play;
And grant the graces of the speaking eyes,
So round and big with pitiful surmise,
That plead for fondling. Grant the mother's name,
And trustful treasure of the loosening frame
That thaws in slumber, sliding to its rest;
Rising and falling on the heaving breast,
Life of my life. Let Mercy yield my prayer,
Bodied in leaping limbs and curling hair,
In lustrous glances—and the mimic show
Of striving, but with blessing in the blow,
More dear than salutations cheap and rife,
And careless kisses of the common life.
O Lord, I weary—weary for the sound
Of little feet that patter o'er the ground,
And echo on in many hopes and fears,
For ever and for ever through the years—
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In melodies that ripple as they roll
With waves of welcome—through the dreamlit lands,
That open at the knock of little hands,
And flood the world with sunshine, when the day
Is blindly groping on its shadowy way—
Through hearth and home and the memorial breast,
And mingling with the music of the Blest.
Now send the latter dews and evening light,
And make the silence beautiful and bright,
With voices that a glamour backward cast,
That people with their chimes the empty past,
And knit it to the present—till I be,
A living part of all the joy I see:
With voices—voices—that I hear from far,
Between the moonrise and the morning star,
Like angels calling to the saint forlorn—
Those heavenly voices of the babes unborn.
And though the day be wondrous sad and long,
“At last” there surely “comes the evensong.”
And make the silence beautiful and bright,
With voices that a glamour backward cast,
That people with their chimes the empty past,
And knit it to the present—till I be,
A living part of all the joy I see:
With voices—voices—that I hear from far,
Between the moonrise and the morning star,
Like angels calling to the saint forlorn—
Those heavenly voices of the babes unborn.
And though the day be wondrous sad and long,
“At last” there surely “comes the evensong.”
Lord, give me children, or I die—I die!
Thou art not childless, and to Thee I cry:
O hear me, hear me from Thy perfect peace,
Ere in the stillness of the grave I cease!
Lest men revile Thee, saying, “Lo, she prayed,
And no one answered, none would give her aid;
She called and no one listened—none would come,
Her Heaven was deaf and Mercy's message dumb.”
I faint with crying, and my heart is old;
And life is bitter, dark, and cold—so cold.
Even though my hope should slay me in its birth,
And bring me nothing of the after mirth
Or mother's music, I would not repent;
But giving life by death, were well content
To lay me down and cease a little space,
And leave the gift an offering unto Grace.
O bless me with the blessings of Thy love,
And blessings of the earth and from above—
With blessings of the breast and of the womb—
Those blessings that are borne beyond the tomb
Or touch of Time, and never-ending rills,
And “the utmost bound of the everlasting hills.”
Thou art not childless, and to Thee I cry:
O hear me, hear me from Thy perfect peace,
Ere in the stillness of the grave I cease!
Lest men revile Thee, saying, “Lo, she prayed,
And no one answered, none would give her aid;
She called and no one listened—none would come,
Her Heaven was deaf and Mercy's message dumb.”
I faint with crying, and my heart is old;
And life is bitter, dark, and cold—so cold.
Even though my hope should slay me in its birth,
And bring me nothing of the after mirth
Or mother's music, I would not repent;
But giving life by death, were well content
To lay me down and cease a little space,
And leave the gift an offering unto Grace.
O bless me with the blessings of Thy love,
And blessings of the earth and from above—
With blessings of the breast and of the womb—
Those blessings that are borne beyond the tomb
Or touch of Time, and never-ending rills,
And “the utmost bound of the everlasting hills.”
“FAINT YET PURSUING.”
Why, O sufferer, art thou craven,
When the Rock of Life is nigh?
Flee the sands that have no haven,
But to die.
When the Rock of Life is nigh?
Flee the sands that have no haven,
But to die.
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Whither art thou wildly going?
Is no Saviour still above?
Troubles are the overflowing
Of His love.
Is no Saviour still above?
Troubles are the overflowing
Of His love.
Art thou sick and sad and lonely,
Torn with passions and with pain?
Seeing doubts and darkness only,
Rack and rain?
Torn with passions and with pain?
Seeing doubts and darkness only,
Rack and rain?
Look beyond the gloomy spaces,
Look beyond the barren years;
Christ for crosses has embraces,
Joy for tears.
Look beyond the barren years;
Christ for crosses has embraces,
Joy for tears.
He is strong and ever waking,
From thy bareness reaping fruits;
And the storms are only shaking
Fast thy roots.
From thy bareness reaping fruits;
And the storms are only shaking
Fast thy roots.
Stay not then by pastures sterile,
Hope not in the flowers that fade;
Times of peace are times of peril,
Shedding shade.
Hope not in the flowers that fade;
Times of peace are times of peril,
Shedding shade.
Green the palms and white the raiment,
That await the conqueror's march;
Bright the heavens, that are repayment,
Overarch.
That await the conqueror's march;
Bright the heavens, that are repayment,
Overarch.
What if battle be thy duty,
What if suffering be thy need?
Have not lasting bliss and beauty,
Sorrow's seed?
What if suffering be thy need?
Have not lasting bliss and beauty,
Sorrow's seed?
Gay the song and glad the token,
Warm the welcome after frowns;
When the swords of war are broken,
Into crowns.
Warm the welcome after frowns;
When the swords of war are broken,
Into crowns.
Fear no danger, no disowning,
If thy feet have Calvary trod;
If each thought is an enthroning
Of thy God.
If thy feet have Calvary trod;
If each thought is an enthroning
Of thy God.
Christ has climbed the hill and hollow,
Crossed the billows to the shore;
And He calls to Thee to follow,
Evermore.
Crossed the billows to the shore;
And He calls to Thee to follow,
Evermore.
Fair is many an earthly fashion,
Great temptations still must be;
Greater far is His compassion,
Fairer He.
Great temptations still must be;
Greater far is His compassion,
Fairer He.
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Comes to me the message, bringing
Balm for bruises and for wrong;
Soft as children's voices, singing
Evensong.
Balm for bruises and for wrong;
Soft as children's voices, singing
Evensong.
Comes to me the watchword, crying
From the wrestlers in the fight;
Where among the dead and dying,
Day is night.
From the wrestlers in the fight;
Where among the dead and dying,
Day is night.
Past appealings, calls of pity,
Mingle with the battle waves;
From the Silence, and its City
Grim with graves.
Mingle with the battle waves;
From the Silence, and its City
Grim with graves.
And am I a slothful servant,
Playing but a feeble part?
Cold is faith that should be fervent,
Sad the heart?
Playing but a feeble part?
Cold is faith that should be fervent,
Sad the heart?
Ah, my service is pretending,
While by weakness I am prest;
Aiding when I need defending,
Bad when best.
While by weakness I am prest;
Aiding when I need defending,
Bad when best.
Still it is not all so dreary,
With the struggle and the care;
See, the wellsprings for the weary,
Shrines for prayer.
With the struggle and the care;
See, the wellsprings for the weary,
Shrines for prayer.
Though before my eyes is spreading
Dim discomfortable waste;
Yet I gather fruits, in treading,
Sweet of taste.
Dim discomfortable waste;
Yet I gather fruits, in treading,
Sweet of taste.
Do I weep and toil and wonder,
Full of clinging pangs that cloy?
Every sorrow has an under
Note of joy.
Full of clinging pangs that cloy?
Every sorrow has an under
Note of joy.
Has the sky no gleam of clearing,
As the shadows westward slope?
Past the shadows, past the fearing,
Shines a hope.
As the shadows westward slope?
Past the shadows, past the fearing,
Shines a hope.
Am I mocked and am I hated,
By the serpent tongues that hiss?
Hate and mocking both are mated,
With a bliss.
By the serpent tongues that hiss?
Hate and mocking both are mated,
With a bliss.
Though the tempest is behind me,
Though the breakers are before;
Eehoes from beyond remind me,
Of the shore.
Though the breakers are before;
Eehoes from beyond remind me,
Of the shore.
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Christ has bridged the angry billow,
And His print is on its brow;
He who made the storm its pillow,
Makes it now.
And His print is on its brow;
He who made the storm its pillow,
Makes it now.
If I could but see Him rightly,
As He walked the waves of old;
All His steps are burnished brightly,
Steps of gold.
As He walked the waves of old;
All His steps are burnished brightly,
Steps of gold.
In the wilderness He wandered,
Hungry with the homeless beast;
Pearls of wisdom then He squandered,
At the feast.
Hungry with the homeless beast;
Pearls of wisdom then He squandered,
At the feast.
Oft with wicked wills He pleaded,
Breathed on wounded souls a balm;
In the tumult when unheeded,
Shed a calm.
Breathed on wounded souls a balm;
In the tumult when unheeded,
Shed a calm.
He has watched upon the mountain,
Till the Tempter's power should cease;
He has whispered by the fountain,
Words of peace.
Till the Tempter's power should cease;
He has whispered by the fountain,
Words of peace.
He has paid our forfeits owing,
Bitter vows and vigils kept;
And when bitter tears were flowing,
Jesus wept.
Bitter vows and vigils kept;
And when bitter tears were flowing,
Jesus wept.
He has stood beside the portal,
Of the never-glutted tomb;
He has bid the blossom mortal,
Live and bloom.
Of the never-glutted tomb;
He has bid the blossom mortal,
Live and bloom.
Woe and want and base denial,
He has faced and conquered all;
Every form of every trial,
Save our fall.
He has faced and conquered all;
Every form of every trial,
Save our fall.
He has felt the victim's portion,
Felt the blackening of His name;
Seen the blasting of distortion,
Shade and shame.
Felt the blackening of His name;
Seen the blasting of distortion,
Shade and shame.
He has drunk the cup of weeping,
Laboured over pity's plan;
Agonized when all were sleeping;
He is man.
Laboured over pity's plan;
Agonized when all were sleeping;
He is man.
Then shall I lose heart and tarry,
Now that He has known the worst?
Borne the burdens I must carry,
Pain and thirst?
Now that He has known the worst?
Borne the burdens I must carry,
Pain and thirst?
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Scorn and misery I may suffer,
He has tasted, He has dared;
My calamities, and rougher,
He has shared.
He has tasted, He has dared;
My calamities, and rougher,
He has shared.
Words of solace He has spoken.
To the spirit trouble-tost;
Bread of poverty has broken,
With the lost.
To the spirit trouble-tost;
Bread of poverty has broken,
With the lost.
What if He should tribute levy,
Of the treasures dear and dead?
If His hands be sometimes heavy,
On my head?
Of the treasures dear and dead?
If His hands be sometimes heavy,
On my head?
Let me bless the mercy slaying,
Let me kiss the rods that smite;
Waiting, watching, trembling, praying
For the light.
Let me kiss the rods that smite;
Waiting, watching, trembling, praying
For the light.
Christ I know has sought and found me,
Though I feel Him not as yet;
And His tender arms are round me,
While I fret.
Though I feel Him not as yet;
And His tender arms are round me,
While I fret.
Vainly woe on woe is thrusting,
Vainly shadows darker fall;
I am looking, listening, trusting,
For His call.
Vainly shadows darker fall;
I am looking, listening, trusting,
For His call.
Do I doubt Him, shall I linger,
If my flesh is faint and bowed?
Lo, the flashing of His finger
Lifts the cloud.
If my flesh is faint and bowed?
Lo, the flashing of His finger
Lifts the cloud.
Though a little while I languish,
Ere the never-ending day;
He, in all my wandering anguish,
Is the Way.
Ere the never-ending day;
He, in all my wandering anguish,
Is the Way.
Though a little while I lose Him,
In the luring fields of youth;
If I only will but choose Him,
He is Truth.
In the luring fields of youth;
If I only will but choose Him,
He is Truth.
Doubts a little while are stronger,
Death itself may close the strife;
He my sins has suffered longer,
He is Life.
Death itself may close the strife;
He my sins has suffered longer,
He is Life.
Yet a little while of pressing,
In the labour and the heat;
Soon my head will feel His blessing,
At His feet.
In the labour and the heat;
Soon my head will feel His blessing,
At His feet.
679
Death shall then be but a story,
Time a dream of happy hours;
Every tear shall turn to glory,
Thorns to flowers.
Time a dream of happy hours;
Every tear shall turn to glory,
Thorns to flowers.
Nothing fairer, nothing fitter,
Than the arrow and the goad;
Than the thorns so sharp and bitter,
On my road.
Than the arrow and the goad;
Than the thorns so sharp and bitter,
On my road.
Nothing shall have pain and stinging,
To the faith-transported eye;
Every sob shall sound as singing,
Every sigh.
To the faith-transported eye;
Every sob shall sound as singing,
Every sigh.
Each disaster shall be counted,
As a harvest pleasure lacks;
Sore distresses prayer surmounted,
heavenward tracks.
As a harvest pleasure lacks;
Sore distresses prayer surmounted,
heavenward tracks.
Hard afflictions waxing pleasant,
Shall assume an aspect sweet;
Gates of glory, where the present
Angels meet.
Shall assume an aspect sweet;
Gates of glory, where the present
Angels meet.
What will then appear a trouble,
To the rapture of the saint?
Losing he was gaining double,
Strong when faint.
To the rapture of the saint?
Losing he was gaining double,
Strong when faint.
Heavy cross and hopeless burden,
Yet were richer far than rest;
Each misfortune was a guerdon,
Blows were blest.
Yet were richer far than rest;
Each misfortune was a guerdon,
Blows were blest.
Yea, when victory had retreated,
He was with the conquering host;
And when seeming most defeated,
Triumphed most.
He was with the conquering host;
And when seeming most defeated,
Triumphed most.
Viewed from pure and perfect splendour,
Earth shall take a radiant hue;
Tears be visions true and tender,
Blight a dew.
Earth shall take a radiant hue;
Tears be visions true and tender,
Blight a dew.
Founts shall make the deserts gladd'ning,
Dust shall grow to paths of gold;
Every danger dark and sadd'ning,
Seem a fold.
Dust shall grow to paths of gold;
Every danger dark and sadd'ning,
Seem a fold.
All that hatred now addresses,
Hands that strike and feet that spurn;
Into kisses and caresses,
Then shall turn.
Hands that strike and feet that spurn;
Into kisses and caresses,
Then shall turn.
680
Evil shall have good for leaven,
Scorn and shame a comfort hide;
Fancied hindrance help to heaven,
Grieving guide.
Scorn and shame a comfort hide;
Fancied hindrance help to heaven,
Grieving guide.
Mourning shall be changed to laughter,
Trials be transformed above;
Seen (as woes are seen hereafter)
Lit with love.
Trials be transformed above;
Seen (as woes are seen hereafter)
Lit with love.
Dread not then the threatening morrow,
Christ has borne thy suffering years;
All His hours were hours of sorrow,
Tales of tears.
Christ has borne thy suffering years;
All His hours were hours of sorrow,
Tales of tears.
Aye, and He who knew no sinning,
Though He bare our passions thus;
Yet was made—salvation winning—
Sin for us.
Though He bare our passions thus;
Yet was made—salvation winning—
Sin for us.
Then I choose the thorns and scourges,
With the Blood He lavished wet;
Then I meet the cruel surges,
He has met.
With the Blood He lavished wet;
Then I meet the cruel surges,
He has met.
O my Saviour, touch and take me,
From the misery and the guilt;
Mould me, as Thou art, and make me
What Thou wilt.
From the misery and the guilt;
Mould me, as Thou art, and make me
What Thou wilt.
He shall hide me, He shall hold me,
Far from deadly thoughts and things;
He shall feed me, He shall fold me
With His wings.
Far from deadly thoughts and things;
He shall feed me, He shall fold me
With His wings.
Clothed in faith and love enduing,
I will beat the shadows down;
“Faint” and fainter ‘yet pursuing,”
Christ my crown.
I will beat the shadows down;
“Faint” and fainter ‘yet pursuing,”
Christ my crown.
MY BELOVED.
My Beloved, my Beloved,
He is fairest of the fair;
And His presence ever round me,
Is like the breath of prayer.
He is fairest of the fair;
And His presence ever round me,
Is like the breath of prayer.
My Beloved, my Beloved,
There is mercy in His eyes
He is purer than the purest,
And all His words are wise.
There is mercy in His eyes
He is purer than the purest,
And all His words are wise.
681
My Beloved, My Beloved,
He is better far than gold;
And the riches of His blessing,
Have never half been told.
He is better far than gold;
And the riches of His blessing,
Have never half been told.
My Beloved, my Beloved,
He is beautiful and bright;
And by faith that He has given,
I am walking in His light.
He is beautiful and bright;
And by faith that He has given,
I am walking in His light.
My Beloved, my Beloved,
In his comfort is no sting,
And the shaking of the tempest,
Is the hushing of His wing.
In his comfort is no sting,
And the shaking of the tempest,
Is the hushing of His wing.
My Beloved, my Beloved,
My glory and my choice;
In the calm and in the tumult,
I can hear His welcome voice.
My glory and my choice;
In the calm and in the tumult,
I can hear His welcome voice.
My Beloved, my Beloved,
There is rapture in His name;
A soothing of my sorrow,
And a blotting out of shame.
There is rapture in His name;
A soothing of my sorrow,
And a blotting out of shame.
My Beloved, my Beloved,
He is all the world to me;
The treasures of remembrance,
And the perfect joy to be.
He is all the world to me;
The treasures of remembrance,
And the perfect joy to be.
My Beloved, my Beloved,
He is never, never far;
He is present in the sunrise,
And with the evening star.
He is never, never far;
He is present in the sunrise,
And with the evening star.
My Beloved, my Beloved,
In the solemn hush of night,
When the moon is dim and setting,
Then He rises on my sight.
In the solemn hush of night,
When the moon is dim and setting,
Then He rises on my sight.
My Beloved, my Beloved,
In the dark and silent hour;
He is stronger than the silence,
And the darkness is his dower.
In the dark and silent hour;
He is stronger than the silence,
And the darkness is his dower.
My Beloved, my Beloved,
He is radiance and relief;
And though all His gifts are precious,
Yet is He Himself the Chief.
He is radiance and relief;
And though all His gifts are precious,
Yet is He Himself the Chief.
My Beloved, my Beloved,
O how pleasant is my part!
For when love would sing his praises,
It is He attunes the heart.
O how pleasant is my part!
For when love would sing his praises,
It is He attunes the heart.
682
My Beloved, my Beloved,
From His care I cannot roam;
Is not He my place and portion,
Is not He my heaven and home?
From His care I cannot roam;
Is not He my place and portion,
Is not He my heaven and home?
My Beloved, my Beloved,
I am fainting with delay;
When shall I see His glory,
And walk the shining way?
I am fainting with delay;
When shall I see His glory,
And walk the shining way?
My Beloved, my Beloved,
He will come in pity down;
And for me He is preparing,
A kingdom and a crown.
He will come in pity down;
And for me He is preparing,
A kingdom and a crown.
My Beloved, my Beloved,
In His sorrow there is joy;
In His anger there is mercy,
And His pleasures do not cloy.
In His sorrow there is joy;
In His anger there is mercy,
And His pleasures do not cloy.
My Beloved, my Beloved,
He is music to the mind;
A shelter to the weary,
And enlightening to the mind.
He is music to the mind;
A shelter to the weary,
And enlightening to the mind.
My Beloved, my Beloved,
In the little cares of life,
He is great as in the greatest,
Both in stillness and in strife.
In the little cares of life,
He is great as in the greatest,
Both in stillness and in strife.
My Beloved, my Beloved,
How I long His face to see;
If the streamlets are so glorious,
What will the Fountain be?
How I long His face to see;
If the streamlets are so glorious,
What will the Fountain be?
My Beloved, my Beloved,
There are rivers of His love;
And the waters all are living,
But the ocean is above.
There are rivers of His love;
And the waters all are living,
But the ocean is above.
My Beloved, my Beloved,
He is in the stormy wind;
And when bitter blasts pursue me,
He is closer still behind.
He is in the stormy wind;
And when bitter blasts pursue me,
He is closer still behind.
My Beloved, my Beloved,
He is sweet as morning dews;
And the heart that is His Eden,
He refreshes and renews.
He is sweet as morning dews;
And the heart that is His Eden,
He refreshes and renews.
My Beloved, my Beloved,
He will save my soul from doubt;
And with laughter and with singing,
He will girdle me about.
He will save my soul from doubt;
And with laughter and with singing,
He will girdle me about.
683
My Beloved, my Beloved,
He is holy, He is blest;
In His arms there is a refuge,
And on His bosom rest.
He is holy, He is blest;
In His arms there is a refuge,
And on His bosom rest.
My Beloved, my Beloved,
There is healing in His hand;
By His grace am I triumphant,
And in His strength I stand.
There is healing in His hand;
By His grace am I triumphant,
And in His strength I stand.
My Beloved, my Beloved,
O my Saviour and my Friend!
He was mine from the beginning,
And He will be to the end.
O my Saviour and my Friend!
He was mine from the beginning,
And He will be to the end.
My Beloved, my Beloved,
I can feel His Presence now;
It is like the breath of evening,
When it trembles on the brow.
I can feel His Presence now;
It is like the breath of evening,
When it trembles on the brow.
My Beloved, My Beloved,
He is Peace to all opprest;
While death is but a sleeping,
And a sinking on His breast.
He is Peace to all opprest;
While death is but a sleeping,
And a sinking on His breast.
My Beloved, my Beloved,
I am feeling for the fold;
For the shadow of His pasture,
For the shining gates of gold.
I am feeling for the fold;
For the shadow of His pasture,
For the shining gates of gold.
My Beloved, my Beloved,
Though my eyes are often dim;
Yet I know His voice is calling,
And I follow, follow Him.
Though my eyes are often dim;
Yet I know His voice is calling,
And I follow, follow Him.
My Beloved, my Beloved,
If a little while I wait;
He will bear me in His bosom,
And beyond the blasts of fate.
If a little while I wait;
He will bear me in His bosom,
And beyond the blasts of fate.
My Beloved, my Beloved,
Though I hear not He will come;
And His word will bid me welcome,
When my own at length is dumb.
Though I hear not He will come;
And His word will bid me welcome,
When my own at length is dumb.
My Beloved, my Beloved,
Let me only trust and pray;
Till the secret of the darkness,
Is discovered by the day,
Let me only trust and pray;
Till the secret of the darkness,
Is discovered by the day,
My Beloved, my Beloved,
He is speaking—He is nigh,
Shall I doubt or be disheartened,
If to win Him be—to die?
He is speaking—He is nigh,
Shall I doubt or be disheartened,
If to win Him be—to die?
| 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition | |