 | Songs Old and New |  |
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In Memoriam et Spem Aeternam.
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HOW DOTH DEATH SPEAK OF OUR BELOVED?
“The rain that falls upon the height,
Too gently to be called delight,
In the dark valley reäppears
As a wild cataract of tears;
And love in life should strive to see
Sometimes what love in death would be.”
Coventry Patmore's Angel in the House.
Too gently to be called delight,
In the dark valley reäppears
As a wild cataract of tears;
And love in life should strive to see
Sometimes what love in death would be.”
Coventry Patmore's Angel in the House.
How doth death speak of our beloved
When it has laid them low,
When it has set its hallowing touch
On speechless lip and brow?
When it has laid them low,
When it has set its hallowing touch
On speechless lip and brow?
It clothes their every gift and grace
With radiance from the holiest place,
With light as from an angel's face;
With radiance from the holiest place,
With light as from an angel's face;
Recalling with resistless force,
And tracing to their hidden source
Deeds scarcely noticed in their course,—
This little, loving, fond device,
That daily act of sacrifice,
Of which too late we learn the price;
And tracing to their hidden source
Deeds scarcely noticed in their course,—
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That daily act of sacrifice,
Of which too late we learn the price;
Opening our weeping eyes to trace
Simple unnoticed kindnesses,
Forgotten tones of tenderness,
Simple unnoticed kindnesses,
Forgotten tones of tenderness,
Which evermore to us must be
Sacred as hymns in infancy
Learnt listening at a mother's knee.
Sacred as hymns in infancy
Learnt listening at a mother's knee.
Thus doth death speak of our beloved
When it has laid them low.
Then let love antedate the work of death
And speak thus now.
When it has laid them low.
Then let love antedate the work of death
And speak thus now.
How does death speak of our beloved
When it has laid them low,
When it has set its hallowing touch
On speechless lip and brow?
When it has laid them low,
When it has set its hallowing touch
On speechless lip and brow?
It sweeps their faults with heavy hand
As sweeps the sea the trampled sand,
Till scarce the faintest print is scanned.
As sweeps the sea the trampled sand,
Till scarce the faintest print is scanned.
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It shows how such a vexing deed
Was but a generous nature's weed,
Or some choice virtue run to seed;
Was but a generous nature's weed,
Or some choice virtue run to seed;
How that small fretting fretfulness
Was but love's over-anxiousness,
Which had not been had love been less;
Was but love's over-anxiousness,
Which had not been had love been less;
This failing at which we repined
But the dim shade of day declined,
Which should have made us doubly kind.
But the dim shade of day declined,
Which should have made us doubly kind.
Thus does death speak of our beloved
When it has laid them low,
When it has set its hallowing touch
On speechless lip and brow.
When it has laid them low,
When it has set its hallowing touch
On speechless lip and brow.
How does death speak of our beloved
When it has laid them low,
When it has set its hallowing touch
On speechless lip and brow?
When it has laid them low,
When it has set its hallowing touch
On speechless lip and brow?
It takes each failing on our part,
And brands it in upon the heart
With caustic power and cruel art.
And brands it in upon the heart
With caustic power and cruel art.
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The small neglect that may have pained,
A giant stature will have gained
When it can never be explained;
A giant stature will have gained
When it can never be explained;
The little service which had proved
How tenderly we watched and loved,
And those mute lips to smiles had moved;
How tenderly we watched and loved,
And those mute lips to smiles had moved;
The little gift from out our store
Which might have cheered some cheerless hour
When they with earth's poor needs were poor.
Which might have cheered some cheerless hour
When they with earth's poor needs were poor.
It shows our faults like fires at night;
It sweeps their failings out of sight;
It clothes their good in heavenly light.
It sweeps their failings out of sight;
It clothes their good in heavenly light.
O Christ, our life, foredate the work of death,
And do this now;
Thou who art love thus hallow our beloved,
Not death but Thou!
And do this now;
Thou who art love thus hallow our beloved,
Not death but Thou!
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SWEET IS THE LIGHT!
“Souvent la vie et la mort nous apparaissent comme deux maux dont nous
ne savons quel est le moindre. Quant à l'apôtre, elles lui apparaissent
comme deux biens immenses dont il ne sait quel est le meilleur.”
—Adolphe Monod, Les Adieux.
I.
“Sweet is the light!” they sang,First Singers of our race,—
On each familiar thing,
On each beloved face!
The mighty, conquering light,
Arrowy, keen, and strong!
The dear, familiar light,
Waking the world to song!
Light on the purple seas—
Light in the golden sky;
“Sweet is the light!” they sang;
“And therefore dire to die!”
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II.
To die! and leave the light,Shadows among the glooms;
Groping 'mid ghosts of joys
For dawn that never comes;
Far from all homely things,
And all familiar ways;
Whilst o'er us, morn by morn,
Still shine the old glad rays,
Waking the fresh green earth
With songs to greet the sky:
“Sweet is the light!” they sang;
“And therefore dire to die!”
III.
Sweet is the light—all light—O Fount of light! we sing,—
On each beloved face,
On each familiar thing!
Thy mighty, probing light,
Keen to part right from wrong!
Thy dear, familiar light,
Waking Thy worlds to song!
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Light in Thy sapphire sky;
“Sweet is the light!” we sing;
And therefore sweet to die!
IV.
To die! and find the light,And never lose it more;
Light on Life's troubled waves,
Where much was dark before,—
The little stormy course
Which tossed us to Thy shore;
Light on the ceaseless storms
Wherein our race is whirled,—
The blindness, battles, sins,
And chaos of the world;
Light on Thy countless worlds,
The order through the strife;—
The Life that moves the Law,
The Love that moves the Life.
Thy mighty conquering light,
Life-giving, keen, and strong!
Thy kind, familiar light,
Proved step by step so long!
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Holy and homelike glow,—
The Home where, one by one,
Our best and dearest go.
Sweet is the light! we sing;
O Light, in Whom we see!
No darkness waiteth us,—
No darkness is in Thee.
Sweet is the light, we sing,
Where Thou art known, on high!
Not darkly—Face to face:
Sweet, therefore, sweet to die!
New Year's Day, 1871.
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SERREZ LES RANGS!
When of old first we heard the war-thunder
Roll round us, above us, and under,
In our ranks those dread chasms were torn
As the hailstorm sweeps paths in the corn,
When those terrible gaps first we felt,
Felt like snow-flakes our men from us melt,
Like a ghostly cry, piercing and clear
Rang the word of command on the ear,
“Close the ranks.”
Roll round us, above us, and under,
In our ranks those dread chasms were torn
As the hailstorm sweeps paths in the corn,
When those terrible gaps first we felt,
Felt like snow-flakes our men from us melt,
Like a ghostly cry, piercing and clear
Rang the word of command on the ear,
“Close the ranks.”
Through each heart the resistless words thrilled,
Not knowing whose places we filled,
Obedient, together we pressed,
In serried ranks charging abreast,
Still shoulder to shoulder were ranged,
Though the comrades be mournfully changed;—
Closed the ranks.
Not knowing whose places we filled,
Obedient, together we pressed,
In serried ranks charging abreast,
Still shoulder to shoulder were ranged,
Though the comrades be mournfully changed;—
Closed the ranks.
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Not an instant the march must be stayed,
For no pity the battle delayed,
On we pressed, in close ranks o'er our dead,
Left our wounded where, fallen, they bled;
For the day's work had yet to be wrought,
For our dead and our wounded we fought,
For their sakes not a pause might we dare,
For their sakes lying helplessly there,
For their sakes on we pressed on our way,
Closed the ranks, sped the charge, won the day.
For no pity the battle delayed,
On we pressed, in close ranks o'er our dead,
Left our wounded where, fallen, they bled;
For the day's work had yet to be wrought,
For our dead and our wounded we fought,
For their sakes not a pause might we dare,
For their sakes lying helplessly there,
For their sakes on we pressed on our way,
Closed the ranks, sped the charge, won the day.
And now, in the battle of life,
In the thick of the old ceaseless strife,
When those terrible gaps come again,
On the heart fall the blank and the pain,
And we know, in our anguish, too well
What we lost when thus stricken they fell,
Still that Word of Command on the ear
Through the blank and death-silence rings clear,
“Close the ranks!”
In the thick of the old ceaseless strife,
When those terrible gaps come again,
On the heart fall the blank and the pain,
And we know, in our anguish, too well
What we lost when thus stricken they fell,
Still that Word of Command on the ear
Through the blank and death-silence rings clear,
“Close the ranks!”
For the sake of the comrades who died,
Press on where they fell, side by side;
For their sakes of whose stay we're bereft,
Press closer to those who are left,
The charge still pursuing abreast,
In unbroken lines faithfully pressed,
Not a moment the charge must be stayed,
For no tears be the battle delayed;
For their sakes not the feeblest despairs,
The fight and its triumphs are theirs;—
Press forward where they led the way,
Close the ranks, speed the charge, win the day.
Press on where they fell, side by side;
For their sakes of whose stay we're bereft,
Press closer to those who are left,
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In unbroken lines faithfully pressed,
Not a moment the charge must be stayed,
For no tears be the battle delayed;
For their sakes not the feeblest despairs,
The fight and its triumphs are theirs;—
Press forward where they led the way,
Close the ranks, speed the charge, win the day.
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HOME BECAUSE NOT HOME.
I need not call it home!
'Tis but a ship at sea;
I look across the waves and foam,
I press across to Thee.
'Tis but a ship at sea;
I look across the waves and foam,
I press across to Thee.
I press across to Thee,
As on the prow I stand,
Trusting Thy glorious Face to see
In the beloved land;
As on the prow I stand,
Trusting Thy glorious Face to see
In the beloved land;
In the beloved land
Where our beloved are,
Where, ever, near to Thee they stand
And watch us, not from far.
Where our beloved are,
Where, ever, near to Thee they stand
And watch us, not from far.
This Earth, in every clime,
Speeds through the skies apace,
Measuring the ceaseless flow of time
By her swift whirl through space.
Speeds through the skies apace,
Measuring the ceaseless flow of time
By her swift whirl through space.
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And we, in Time or Space,
Abide not still one day;
I need not, then, call home the place
Wherein we cannot stay!
Abide not still one day;
I need not, then, call home the place
Wherein we cannot stay!
Wherein we need not stay,
Uncabled, launched, and free,
And cleaving through the seas our way
To our beloved and Thee.
Uncabled, launched, and free,
And cleaving through the seas our way
To our beloved and Thee.
This rest-house by the way,
I need not call it home;
'Tis but Thy guest-house, night and day,
Where pilgrims go and come;
I need not call it home;
'Tis but Thy guest-house, night and day,
Where pilgrims go and come;
Where pilgrims come and go,
Welcomed and sped by Thee:
I need not build a home below;
Thy guest-house let it be!
Welcomed and sped by Thee:
I need not build a home below;
Thy guest-house let it be!
For it is Thine, not mine,
And therefore 'tis no care;
Yet I must do my best with Thine
To make it bright and fair;
And therefore 'tis no care;
Yet I must do my best with Thine
To make it bright and fair;
To make it bright and sweet
For Thee and Thine alway;
A resting-place for weary feet,
To speed them on Thy way:
For Thee and Thine alway;
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To speed them on Thy way:
Thy ship upon Thy deep,
Steered to Thy shore by Thee;
Thy guest-house which for Thee I keep,
And therefore home to me.
Steered to Thy shore by Thee;
Thy guest-house which for Thee I keep,
And therefore home to me.
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IN MEMORIAM ET SPEM ÆTERNAM.
The best of earth's best things would I have won thee,
In richest store;
But my fond hands were weak, belov'd, to crown thee,
My treasures poor!
Now God has given thee His best things, belovëd,
And they are more.
Service the loftiest this earth can render
Thou shouldst have won,
Such honour, here, as all who knew felt due thee,
Who claimedst none!
God gives thee service now to which earth's highest
Were low and poor,
Crowns with the crown of His “Well done,” for ever;
And that is more.
In richest store;
But my fond hands were weak, belov'd, to crown thee,
My treasures poor!
Now God has given thee His best things, belovëd,
And they are more.
Service the loftiest this earth can render
Thou shouldst have won,
Such honour, here, as all who knew felt due thee,
Who claimedst none!
God gives thee service now to which earth's highest
Were low and poor,
Crowns with the crown of His “Well done,” for ever;
And that is more.
From patient toiling here and little reaping
God called thee home;
Just when the harvest of thy toil was ripening
He bid thee come.—
The path thou lovedst closed to thee in boyhood,
Yet lov'd life-long.
Bravely thou tookest up the yoke laid on thee,
Patient and strong;
Content and earnest as in paths self-chosen
Pursu'dst thy way,
Toiledst thy thirty patient years for others,
From day to day,
And when thy reaping-time at last seemed coming
Wert called away.
From all the bright, ripe fields before thee widening
God called thee hence;—
He would not give one portion of thy guerdon
In earth's poor pence;
Thy hands are full, belovëd, now of God's own riches
Fadeless and fair;
Thou passedst Time in Time's best work of sowing,
And reapest there!
God called thee home;
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He bid thee come.—
The path thou lovedst closed to thee in boyhood,
Yet lov'd life-long.
Bravely thou tookest up the yoke laid on thee,
Patient and strong;
Content and earnest as in paths self-chosen
Pursu'dst thy way,
Toiledst thy thirty patient years for others,
From day to day,
And when thy reaping-time at last seemed coming
Wert called away.
From all the bright, ripe fields before thee widening
God called thee hence;—
He would not give one portion of thy guerdon
In earth's poor pence;
Thy hands are full, belovëd, now of God's own riches
Fadeless and fair;
Thou passedst Time in Time's best work of sowing,
And reapest there!
Yet dare I speak, e'en here, of little reaping,
Lest I repine?
Nor fear to mar with fond words of complaining
The peace of thine?
Nor fear to soil the glory of thy meekness
With praise of mine?
Unconscious of the beauty of thy living
Thou passedst on,
Shining unconscious as God's best and truest
Ever have shone.
Thou reapedst in the light thy life shed round thee,
The trust it won.
(Thank God, we saw it as we walked beside thee,
Not first, too late,
In all the anguish of this blank and darkness
Left desolate!)
Thou reapedst in the deep peace of thy dying,
All conflicts o'er,
Thy last step into heaven but one of thousands
Which went before,
Abundant entrance, opening for one moment
On us heaven's door!
Thou reapedst in the heritage thou leavest,
Prayers of the poor,—
The Master's likeness on our hearts engraven
For evermore.
Lest I repine?
Nor fear to mar with fond words of complaining
The peace of thine?
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With praise of mine?
Unconscious of the beauty of thy living
Thou passedst on,
Shining unconscious as God's best and truest
Ever have shone.
Thou reapedst in the light thy life shed round thee,
The trust it won.
(Thank God, we saw it as we walked beside thee,
Not first, too late,
In all the anguish of this blank and darkness
Left desolate!)
Thou reapedst in the deep peace of thy dying,
All conflicts o'er,
Thy last step into heaven but one of thousands
Which went before,
Abundant entrance, opening for one moment
On us heaven's door!
Thou reapedst in the heritage thou leavest,
Prayers of the poor,—
The Master's likeness on our hearts engraven
For evermore.
I dare not speak, e'en here, of little reaping
In earth's poor store;
Thou reapedst here in God's best things, belovëd,
And they are more.
A heart made glad with God's own wealth of gladness,
Calm to the core;
A heart made full as human love could fill it,
And peace Divine;
That on this earth which was to thee the dearest,
Entirely thine;—
Nay, e'en on earth in earth's best things thou reapedst,
Earth's richest store!
Thou reapest now in God's best things, belovëd,—
And they are more.
In earth's poor store;
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And they are more.
A heart made glad with God's own wealth of gladness,
Calm to the core;
A heart made full as human love could fill it,
And peace Divine;
That on this earth which was to thee the dearest,
Entirely thine;—
Nay, e'en on earth in earth's best things thou reapedst,
Earth's richest store!
Thou reapest now in God's best things, belovëd,—
And they are more.
June, 1868.
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REFLECTED LIGHT.
The suffering and the loss are mine!
The pain, the death are all for me!
'Tis fond delusion makes them thine,
Transferring my regrets to thee.
The pain, the death are all for me!
'Tis fond delusion makes them thine,
Transferring my regrets to thee.
It is not true, it is not true,
That thou, reluctant, hurried hence,
On all the good we hoped to do
Look'st back with wistful longings thence;
That thou, reluctant, hurried hence,
On all the good we hoped to do
Look'st back with wistful longings thence;
On fields unreaped together sown,
On holy hopes all unfulfilled!
The shattered hopes are mine alone,
Thine in the well of life are stilled;
On holy hopes all unfulfilled!
The shattered hopes are mine alone,
Thine in the well of life are stilled;
Stilled, and made strong for higher flight,
Fulfilled, and freed for wider range,
From height to height of fuller light,
From stage to stage of growth and change.
Fulfilled, and freed for wider range,
From height to height of fuller light,
From stage to stage of growth and change.
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The loss, the close, the death are mine;
Mine only! Thine no more! no more!
Fulfilment, joy, expansion, thine!
Winged by thy joy my soul can soar;
Mine only! Thine no more! no more!
Fulfilment, joy, expansion, thine!
Winged by thy joy my soul can soar;
A fulness of Divine content
Silently fills and floods my heart,
As with long gaze, enrapt, intent,
I see thee blessed as thou art.
Silently fills and floods my heart,
As with long gaze, enrapt, intent,
I see thee blessed as thou art.
And in thy gladness I am glad;
My weakness in thy strength grows strong,—
I know thy very heavens were sad
If thou couldst think I suffered wrong.
My weakness in thy strength grows strong,—
I know thy very heavens were sad
If thou couldst think I suffered wrong.
For if, e'en on this sinful earth,
And lonely, thus bereft of thee,
Love makes thy joy amidst my dearth
A banquet of delight to me,—
And lonely, thus bereft of thee,
Love makes thy joy amidst my dearth
A banquet of delight to me,—
Thou who on earth wast never known
To drink of selfish pleasure's cup,
But laid'st thine ease and comfort down
To take thy brother's burden up,—
To drink of selfish pleasure's cup,
But laid'st thine ease and comfort down
To take thy brother's burden up,—
There more thyself thou art, not less,
Fulfilled, not lost in God's great will;
The home thy presence here could bless
In heaven is sacred to thee still.
Fulfilled, not lost in God's great will;
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In heaven is sacred to thee still.
Not less thou lov'st in heaven, but more,—
And therefore, (or thou wert not blest!)
Thou know'st this anguish deep and sore
Works e'en for me God's very best.
And therefore, (or thou wert not blest!)
Thou know'st this anguish deep and sore
Works e'en for me God's very best.
Thus, through the love and bliss in thee,
Belov'd, who seest the Face of God,
His smile, reflected, shines on me,
Draws me to His and thine abode.
Belov'd, who seest the Face of God,
His smile, reflected, shines on me,
Draws me to His and thine abode.
Westminster, 1869.
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NOT DRIFTING; PILOTED.
At noontide, on a sunny sea,
Serene and open, bright and free.
Serene and open, bright and free.
Small choice to us in near or far,
Heaven and home where'er we are.
Heaven and home where'er we are.
No sameness same, no changes strange;
All home where we together range.
All home where we together range.
No cloud, no storm on sky or deep,
Only one huge wave's tidal sweep;
Only one huge wave's tidal sweep;
One steady, dark, devouring wave,
O'er-arching in its deadly cave.
O'er-arching in its deadly cave.
Hand clasped in hand, in one frail bark
Swept underneath that rush of dark!
Swept underneath that rush of dark!
Alone! upon the other side;
Still sweeping, on, that steady Tide!
Still sweeping, on, that steady Tide!
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Alone! no guide, no helm, no oar;
All tracks alike; no port, no shore.
All tracks alike; no port, no shore.
Still drifting on; no change in change,
All shores, all seas, alike; all strange.
All shores, all seas, alike; all strange.
A Hand! firm guiding through the sea;
A Face! a Face! regarding me.
A Face! a Face! regarding me.
Guiding, regarding, all the while
Commanding Hand! Most pitying smile!
Commanding Hand! Most pitying smile!
Not drifting! steered for evermore
By wisest tracks that ocean o'er.
By wisest tracks that ocean o'er.
Following those Eyes that look before,
Lit by that smile, a shore! the Shore!
Lit by that smile, a shore! the Shore!
The Shore! the Home! across the sea,
And oh! what faces waiting me.
And oh! what faces waiting me.
1869.
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THE BEAUTIFUL GATE OF THE TEMPLE.
Little familiar gate!
Gate of the home by the way!
Hour for which daily to wait,
Hour at the close of the day!
Gate of the home by the way!
Hour for which daily to wait,
Hour at the close of the day!
Hand in hand close pressed,
Arm never trusted in vain,
Hearts in each other at rest,
Home all home again!
Arm never trusted in vain,
Hearts in each other at rest,
Home all home again!
Gate through which all must pass,
Gate at the end of the way;—
Men call it a Gate of Brass,
A prison-gate, they say.
Gate at the end of the way;—
Men call it a Gate of Brass,
A prison-gate, they say.
They think it can only divide,
Pitiless, heavy, and strong;
But we who have looked inside
Know they have named it wrong:
Pitiless, heavy, and strong;
But we who have looked inside
Know they have named it wrong:
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Know it not strong but weak,
Its bars all shattered and slight,
Mere bars of shadow that streak
And prove the inner light;
Gate where all bonds shall break,
All severed hearts unite.
Its bars all shattered and slight,
Mere bars of shadow that streak
And prove the inner light;
Gate where all bonds shall break,
All severed hearts unite.
Terrible, Beautiful Gate!
Gate of the Temple of God!
Well through the day we may wait
Till it open for us our abode.
Gate of the Temple of God!
Well through the day we may wait
Till it open for us our abode.
Hands in hands close pressed,
Hearts past all parting and pain,
In God and each other at rest,
Home all home again!
Hearts past all parting and pain,
In God and each other at rest,
Home all home again!
Beautiful Gate of Life!
Gate at the end of the way!
Well worth day's toil and strife
For that hour at the end of the day.
Gate at the end of the way!
Well worth day's toil and strife
For that hour at the end of the day.
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SPRINGING INTO LIFE.
“Sie hat ihren Sprung gethan.
Ach! wollt' Gott ich hätt' auch den Sprung gethan!
Ich wollt' mich nicht sehr hernieder sehnen.”
Dr. Martin Luther.
Ach! wollt' Gott ich hätt' auch den Sprung gethan!
Ich wollt' mich nicht sehr hernieder sehnen.”
Dr. Martin Luther.
Say not they sank to rest
As a wave whose force is spent,
As a weary child on its mother's breast,—
So it seemed, but not thus they went.
As a wave whose force is spent,
As a weary child on its mother's breast,—
So it seemed, but not thus they went.
Not thus it seemed to those
Who watch by our side alway,
And through the calm of the last repose
See the dawn of the endless day.
Who watch by our side alway,
And through the calm of the last repose
See the dawn of the endless day.
Say, rather, they sprang to life!
Strong and free to life they sprang;
As the warrior sprang to the strife
When the clarion's summons rang;
Strong and free to life they sprang;
As the warrior sprang to the strife
When the clarion's summons rang;
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As a stream the frosts enchain
By the touch of spring set free,
Vocal and strong bounds forth again,
Springs forth to meet the sea;
By the touch of spring set free,
Vocal and strong bounds forth again,
Springs forth to meet the sea;
As a bird of some sunny land,
Caged in the darkness long,
Freed by the touch of a friendly hand
Springs into light and song.
Caged in the darkness long,
Freed by the touch of a friendly hand
Springs into light and song.
Say not they sank to rest!
They sprang to life and song!—
As a waking child to its mother's breast,
Refreshed and glad and strong
They sprang to life and song!—
As a waking child to its mother's breast,
Refreshed and glad and strong
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AT EVENTIDE IT SHALL BE LIGHT.
Forth to thy work from morn till night,
Through fog and din thy path would be;
While I at home upon the height
Would work, and rest, and wait for thee.
Through fog and din thy path would be;
While I at home upon the height
Would work, and rest, and wait for thee.
But now along the way of life
Through dust and din my path must be,
Whilst thou above all mists and strife
Waitest at Home, on high, for me.
Through dust and din my path must be,
Whilst thou above all mists and strife
Waitest at Home, on high, for me.
I will not call these “weary ways;”
No murmur ever left thy lips;
I will not sigh o'er “dreary days,”
Though darkened by thy light's eclipse.
No murmur ever left thy lips;
I will not sigh o'er “dreary days,”
Though darkened by thy light's eclipse.
A Presence wraps me everywhere,
The Presence in which thou art blest;
The Face, the Sun of worlds, is there,—
Yet bright to us the glistening vest.
The Presence in which thou art blest;
The Face, the Sun of worlds, is there,—
Yet bright to us the glistening vest.
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The work is good, the way is right;—
But yet, I think, an hour shall be
At evening on the homelike height
Which will be morn to thee and me.
But yet, I think, an hour shall be
At evening on the homelike height
Which will be morn to thee and me.
168
THE TOMB AND THE TEMPLE.
Sleeping! my heart was sleeping
With the sleep of one turned to stone,—
With my changeless burden of sorrow,
Alone, for ever alone;
On the grave no larger than others,
For other eyes to see,
Which has made all earth and heaven
One vaulted grave to me.
With the sleep of one turned to stone,—
With my changeless burden of sorrow,
Alone, for ever alone;
On the grave no larger than others,
For other eyes to see,
Which has made all earth and heaven
One vaulted grave to me.
Sleeping! my heart was sleeping
On the stone of that sacred tomb
Which needs no seal to seal it
Close till the Day of Doom,—
On the stone no friendly angel,
No earthquake shall roll away,
Till the friendly hands shall move it
For me, on my resting-day.
On the stone of that sacred tomb
Which needs no seal to seal it
Close till the Day of Doom,—
On the stone no friendly angel,
No earthquake shall roll away,
Till the friendly hands shall move it
For me, on my resting-day.
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Waking! my heart is waking,
And nevermore alone!
Awake, in a vast Cathedral,
But not one built of stone.
Deep are its strong foundations;—
They have pierced through the bars of death
By the force of a Life Immortal
Inspired by a dying breath.
And nevermore alone!
Awake, in a vast Cathedral,
But not one built of stone.
Deep are its strong foundations;—
They have pierced through the bars of death
By the force of a Life Immortal
Inspired by a dying breath.
The worlds have no measure to mete it,
Its span is too high and broad;
None know how high it towereth,
For within is the Throne of God.
Each stone and each note of its music
Are the spoils of a mortal strife;
Its every song is a Triumph,
Its every stone a life.
Its span is too high and broad;
None know how high it towereth,
For within is the Throne of God.
Each stone and each note of its music
Are the spoils of a mortal strife;
Its every song is a Triumph,
Its every stone a life.
Its feeblest song is a Triumph,
Though it seem to men but a moan;
For it presseth through anguish victorious
To God, to God alone;—
Till low at His feet it sobbeth,
“Father! Thy will be done!”
And He asketh no higher music
From the angels around His Throne.
Though it seem to men but a moan;
For it presseth through anguish victorious
To God, to God alone;—
Till low at His feet it sobbeth,
“Father! Thy will be done!”
And He asketh no higher music
From the angels around His Throne.
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The hymns through its vast roofs pealing
Are from more than a single Choir;
And though diverse the tones of its music,
They are fused in one inward fire.
The singers are all immortal,
One life inspires them through;
But some have their dying over,
And some have it yet to do.
Are from more than a single Choir;
And though diverse the tones of its music,
They are fused in one inward fire.
The singers are all immortal,
One life inspires them through;
But some have their dying over,
And some have it yet to do.
The choirs on these lower ranges
Are broken and weak and few,
To the glorious hosts above us,
Just hidden from our view.
For daily our best rise thither;
Soon He will call us too,
Even us, when He sees we are ready,
To Himself, belov'd, and to you!
Are broken and weak and few,
To the glorious hosts above us,
Just hidden from our view.
For daily our best rise thither;
Soon He will call us too,
Even us, when He sees we are ready,
To Himself, belov'd, and to you!
Soon, not too soon by a moment,
Till our work is done below,—
Till the lessons are learnt more truly
We are careless to learn, and slow,—
Till the likeness is formed that only
Through frosts and fires can grow;
Soon, not too late by a moment,
For He knows how we long to go.
Till our work is done below,—
Till the lessons are learnt more truly
We are careless to learn, and slow,—
Till the likeness is formed that only
Through frosts and fires can grow;
Soon, not too late by a moment,
For He knows how we long to go.
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We need not depart from this Temple,
We may serve there, night and day,
Its life and its music around us
In all our work and way.
For grand as it is and holy,
Eternal and Divine,
It is simple, homelike, human,
As a home of thine and mine.
We may serve there, night and day,
Its life and its music around us
In all our work and way.
For grand as it is and holy,
Eternal and Divine,
It is simple, homelike, human,
As a home of thine and mine.
Its music is all home-music,
It haunts us where'er we roam;
For the Father's House is the Temple,
And the Temple the children's Home.
It haunts us where'er we roam;
For the Father's House is the Temple,
And the Temple the children's Home.
Westminster, 1869.
172
THE CRYPT.
“Buried with Him.”
Utmost moans of agony,
Moaning, moaning ceaselessly,
“Earth is all one grave to me,
Sweetest fields but churchyard turf,
Sunniest seas but deadly surf,
Fairest skies one vaulted tomb,
Death in all homes most at home.”
Moaning, moaning ceaselessly,
“Earth is all one grave to me,
Sweetest fields but churchyard turf,
Sunniest seas but deadly surf,
Fairest skies one vaulted tomb,
Death in all homes most at home.”
Saddest moans of agony,
Back from far they come to me,
Echoed from the Crystal Sea
In a chant of victory;
From that Sea's translucent verge
Back in triumphs peals the dirge:
Back from far they come to me,
Echoed from the Crystal Sea
In a chant of victory;
From that Sea's translucent verge
Back in triumphs peals the dirge:
“Earth is all one grave to thee?
What besides can earth now be,
Since He died upon the Tree,
Since He died on earth for thee,
Since beneath it He lay, dim,
Cold and still each tortured limb.
Buried are His own with Him,
Yet the dirge is all a hymn.
What besides can earth now be,
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Since He died on earth for thee,
Since beneath it He lay, dim,
Cold and still each tortured limb.
Buried are His own with Him,
Yet the dirge is all a hymn.
“Would'st thou take the crypt's chill damps
And its dim sepulchral lamps
For His Temple spaces high,
For His depths of starry sky?
Wouldest thou? Not so would they
Who one moment breathe His day!
Earth has light for earth's great strife,—
Where He liveth, there is life!
And its dim sepulchral lamps
For His Temple spaces high,
For His depths of starry sky?
Wouldest thou? Not so would they
Who one moment breathe His day!
Earth has light for earth's great strife,—
Where He liveth, there is life!
“Earth is all one grave to thee?
Yet lift up thine eyes and see!
For the stone is rolled away
And He standeth there to-day,
Patiently by thee will stay
Till thy heart ‘Rabboni’ say!
He will not desert the clay,
Thine, nor theirs, by night nor day.
Yet lift up thine eyes and see!
For the stone is rolled away
And He standeth there to-day,
Patiently by thee will stay
Till thy heart ‘Rabboni’ say!
He will not desert the clay,
Thine, nor theirs, by night nor day.
“That Rabboni, faint through fears,
Sobbed through agony of tears,
That alone thy heart can clear
Those far-off Amens to hear;
That alone can tune thy heart
In those songs to take its part.
Sobbed through agony of tears,
174
Those far-off Amens to hear;
That alone can tune thy heart
In those songs to take its part.
“Then thy cry of agony,
‘Earth is all one grave to me,’
Echoed, shall come back to thee
In a chant of victory,
Echoed from the Crystal Sea
From the living victors free,
Ransomed everlastingly.”
‘Earth is all one grave to me,’
Echoed, shall come back to thee
In a chant of victory,
Echoed from the Crystal Sea
From the living victors free,
Ransomed everlastingly.”
1869.
175
RESURRECTION.
“Risen with Him.”
Not alone the victors free
Standing by the Crystal Sea
Sing the song of victory!
Buried are Thine own with Thee,
Risen are Thine own with Thee!
We may chant it, even we!
Standing by the Crystal Sea
Sing the song of victory!
Buried are Thine own with Thee,
Risen are Thine own with Thee!
We may chant it, even we!
One our life with those above,
One our service, one our love;
Not at death that life begins,
Though a fuller strength it wins,
Freed from all that bounds its flight,
Freed from all that cramps its might.
One our service, one our love;
Not at death that life begins,
Though a fuller strength it wins,
Freed from all that bounds its flight,
Freed from all that cramps its might.
We upon these lower slopes
Dim with fears and fitful hopes,
They upon the eternal heights
Glorious in undying lights,
Radiant in the cloudless sun;
Yet their life and ours is one,
E'en on us their Sun hath shone,
E'en for us their Day begun.
Dim with fears and fitful hopes,
They upon the eternal heights
Glorious in undying lights,
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Yet their life and ours is one,
E'en on us their Sun hath shone,
E'en for us their Day begun.
And these lowly paths we tread
Are the same where they were led;
Very sacred grown and sweet,
Trodden by immortal feet,—
Trodden once, oh best of all!
By the Feet at which they fall.
Are the same where they were led;
Very sacred grown and sweet,
Trodden by immortal feet,—
Trodden once, oh best of all!
By the Feet at which they fall.
And each service kind and true
Which to any here we do,
Linked in one immortal chain
Makes their service live again,—
Brings us to the service nigh
Which they render now, on high;
For the highest heavens above
Nothing higher know than love.
Which to any here we do,
Linked in one immortal chain
Makes their service live again,—
Brings us to the service nigh
Which they render now, on high;
For the highest heavens above
Nothing higher know than love.
1869.
177
IN MEMORY OF THE PRINCE CONSORT.
Silently springing upward, as grow the things of God,
His life grew up among us, and cast its shade abroad;
His life grew up among us, and cast its shade abroad;
Silently, as the sapling grows to the forest oak;
As the Temple on the Hill of God, profaned by no rude stroke.
As the Temple on the Hill of God, profaned by no rude stroke.
Silently, as the sunlight deepens through all the air,
Till scarcely thinking whence it comes, we feel it everywhere;
Till scarcely thinking whence it comes, we feel it everywhere;
Yet only as he leaves us, we gaze upon the sun,
And as we say, “How beautiful!” he sets and day is done.
And as we say, “How beautiful!” he sets and day is done.
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Silently pressing onward, as work the men of God,
The lowly path of duty on the lonely heights he trod,—
The lowly path of duty on the lonely heights he trod,—
Gifted with powers which meaner men with fadeless bays had crowned,
With a poet's sense of beauty in hue and form and sound:
With a poet's sense of beauty in hue and form and sound:
Steadfastly as for life or fame, yet not for self he wrought,
But royally for others spent strength and time and thought;
But royally for others spent strength and time and thought;
In guiding other men to fame, showing what fame should be;
Inspiring other men to do, and training them to see;
Inspiring other men to do, and training them to see;
Lightening the heart of genius from the crippling load of care;
Making poor men's homes more homelike, and all men's homes more fair;
Making poor men's homes more homelike, and all men's homes more fair;
Bringing beauty like the sunlight into common things and small;
Ennobling toil for working men, ennobling life for all;
Ennobling toil for working men, ennobling life for all;
179
In lowly self-forgetful works none but the noblest do,
Till few among the mighty have left a fame so true:
Till few among the mighty have left a fame so true:
Living a life so meekly great beside an Empire's throne,
That the humblest man among us by it might mould his own;
That the humblest man among us by it might mould his own;
Dying to bind a nation as only tears can bind,
For once, with all its myriad aims, one heart, one soul, one mind;
For once, with all its myriad aims, one heart, one soul, one mind;
Crowned by an Empire's sorrow, mourning from end to end;
Wept silently in countless homes, as each had lost a friend.
Wept silently in countless homes, as each had lost a friend.
Thus silently God took him, early ripened, in his prime,
From the echoes and the shadows of these dim shores of Time;
From the echoes and the shadows of these dim shores of Time;
To the Song which wakes the echoes broken here by din and strife,
To the Light which casts the shadows, the Light in Whom is life;
To the Light which casts the shadows, the Light in Whom is life;
180
To the Throne for us abandoned once for the Cross and shame and pain,
To Him who sits there evermore, “the Lamb that has been slain;”
To Him who sits there evermore, “the Lamb that has been slain;”
To the living, loving Fountain of all great and good and fair,
To dwell with Him for ever and be made perfect there!
To dwell with Him for ever and be made perfect there!
And e'en from such a home as his, where all earth's best was blent,
Can we doubt, when God thus called him, that willingly he went?
Can we doubt, when God thus called him, that willingly he went?
But for that perfect home his loss has left so desolate,
And for that woe made matchless by years of joy so great!
And for that woe made matchless by years of joy so great!
Thy people would have shed their blood this woe from thee to keep,
But now what can thy nation do, our Queen! for thee, but weep!
But now what can thy nation do, our Queen! for thee, but weep!
Yet surely God has balms for pain nothing on earth can still;
Love which can soothe its bitterness, Duty its void to fill.
Love which can soothe its bitterness, Duty its void to fill.
181
First folding to One boundless Heart of ever-present Love
The weeping children wandering here, and those at home above;
The weeping children wandering here, and those at home above;
Then when the sharp new anguish, now so keen and quick and strange,
Has sunk into the slow dull pain, the blank that cannot change,
Has sunk into the slow dull pain, the blank that cannot change,
With the sacred tones of Duty, Love wakes the heart again,—
“Life is no empty barren waste, and grief is not in vain.”
“Life is no empty barren waste, and grief is not in vain.”
Empty for none; and least of all, Mother and Queen, for thee!
Could tears but tell thee what thou art to us, and still shalt be;
Could tears but tell thee what thou art to us, and still shalt be;
What it has been to England, through years of storm and gloom,
To honour in her highest place, for a chair of state,—a home!
To honour in her highest place, for a chair of state,—a home!
Couldst thou but know the healing dews of honest, loving tears,
Which flow for thee from eyes long dried by the dull weight of cares;
Which flow for thee from eyes long dried by the dull weight of cares;
182
Or how the love thy life has won through all thy happy years,
Deepened to tenderest reverence, now soars to heaven in prayers,—
Deepened to tenderest reverence, now soars to heaven in prayers,—
Oh, would not all the track of life which seems so long to grief,
Filled with such service for thy land, even to thee seem brief?
Filled with such service for thy land, even to thee seem brief?
183
THE QUEEN'S WREATH ON THE PRESIDENT'S BIER.
Still westward through the night in silence sweeping,
Wife of a hero, watching by thy dead;
On through a nation round thee, silent, weeping!
—Thou weepest not until thy task be sped.
Wife of a hero, watching by thy dead;
On through a nation round thee, silent, weeping!
—Thou weepest not until thy task be sped.
They meet thee still in city after city,
To honour and to mourn their dead and thine,
With bared heads kneeling, hushed in awe and pity
For crime inhuman met with grace divine;
To honour and to mourn their dead and thine,
With bared heads kneeling, hushed in awe and pity
For crime inhuman met with grace divine;
Saluting ever with restrained emotion
One bier, and on it laid one Funeral Wreath,
Borne from the mother land beyond the Ocean;—
The hand of Love above the hand of Death.
One bier, and on it laid one Funeral Wreath,
Borne from the mother land beyond the Ocean;—
The hand of Love above the hand of Death.
All hearts thus owning as with one pulse beating
Goodness and truth,—the eternal and unseen;—
The hearts of two great kindred nations meeting
Through the true heart of one true widowed Queen.
Goodness and truth,—the eternal and unseen;—
184
Through the true heart of one true widowed Queen.
Oh, Queen! 'tis not thy Crown of Empire only,
Thy crown of sorrow hallows thee to this!
And thou, new mourner! fear not to be lonely,
Since of such woe is born earth's saving bliss.
Thy crown of sorrow hallows thee to this!
And thou, new mourner! fear not to be lonely,
Since of such woe is born earth's saving bliss.
Once more
“the veil grows thin” the heavens effacing!
One triumph more through paths in anguish trod;
Two nations through two women's hearts embracing,
One People bowing low before one God!
One triumph more through paths in anguish trod;
Two nations through two women's hearts embracing,
One People bowing low before one God!
Alluding to President Garfield's speech on adjourning Congress after President Lincoln's assassination.
185
IN MEMORY OF THE LADY AUGUSTA STANLEY.
Oh blessed life of service and of love,
Heart wide as life, deep as life's deepest woe!
His servants serve Him day and night above,—
Thou servedst day and night we thought, below.
Heart wide as life, deep as life's deepest woe!
His servants serve Him day and night above,—
Thou servedst day and night we thought, below.
Hands full of blessings lavished far and wide,
Hands tender to bind up hearts wounded sore;
Stooping quite down earth's lowest needs beside,
“Master, like Thee!” we thought, and said no more.
Hands tender to bind up hearts wounded sore;
Stooping quite down earth's lowest needs beside,
“Master, like Thee!” we thought, and said no more.
Oh, nerves and heart racked to their utmost strain,
Hands stretched in helplessness to serve no more,—
Dulled by no slumber to their deepest pain,—
“Master, like Thee!” we wept, and said no more.
Hands stretched in helplessness to serve no more,—
Dulled by no slumber to their deepest pain,—
“Master, like Thee!” we wept, and said no more.
186
We o'er all sorrow would have raised thee up,
Crowned with life's choicest blossoms night and morn;
God made thee drink of His Beloved's cup,
And crowned thee with the Master's crown of thorn.
Crowned with life's choicest blossoms night and morn;
God made thee drink of His Beloved's cup,
And crowned thee with the Master's crown of thorn.
Looking from thee to Him once wounded sore,
We learned a little more His face to see;
Then looking from the cross for us He bore
To thine, we almost understood for thee.
We learned a little more His face to see;
Then looking from the cross for us He bore
To thine, we almost understood for thee.
Till, now, again, we gaze on thee above,
Strong and unwearied, serving day and night;
Oh blessed life of service and of love!
Master, like Thee, and with Thee, in Thy light!
Strong and unwearied, serving day and night;
Oh blessed life of service and of love!
Master, like Thee, and with Thee, in Thy light!
187
IN MEMORY OF ARTHUR PENRHYN STANLEY, DEAN OF WESTMINSTER.
Not this, not this, O Friend, thy funeral day!
Five long years since, for thee, that passed away,
When she was borne from thee, thy joy and stay;
Five long years since, for thee, that passed away,
When she was borne from thee, thy joy and stay;
And bowed and patient here we saw thee stand,
The children she so loved in either hand,
Thy home “unroofed,” a stranger in thy land.
The children she so loved in either hand,
Thy home “unroofed,” a stranger in thy land.
Lost the dear presence of that perfect wife,
Still to fulfil, alone, the double life,
Alone to bear the burden and the strife,—
Still to fulfil, alone, the double life,
Alone to bear the burden and the strife,—
188
Shed benedictions from a smitten heart,
Food to the hungered from thy dearth impart,
Dying, still blessing, from thine own to part.
Food to the hungered from thy dearth impart,
Dying, still blessing, from thine own to part.
Till now, at last, thy double task is done;
Fought the last fight, the victory fully won;
Thou'rt gone from this small world beneath the sun.
Fought the last fight, the victory fully won;
Thou'rt gone from this small world beneath the sun.
Gone to the vision of the Crucified,
The Master loved so long, trusted and tried;
Gone where the blest who enter in abide;
The Master loved so long, trusted and tried;
Gone where the blest who enter in abide;
Gone to the Mother City of the free,
Where mercy with the Merciful shall be,
The pure in heart the face of God shall see.
Where mercy with the Merciful shall be,
The pure in heart the face of God shall see.
And in the many mansions fair and wide,
Adoring now for ever by her side,
Serene thou dwellest and art satisfied.
Adoring now for ever by her side,
Serene thou dwellest and art satisfied.
Alluding to the Dean's pronouncing the Benediction himself at his wife's funeral, and after receiving the Sacrament for the last time.
189
THE SCHOOL AND THE HOME.
Why do we moan, and wonderingly complain,
And murmur, O mysterious ways of God!
When the fine gold whence beams His image plain
Is stored within His innermost abode?
And murmur, O mysterious ways of God!
When the fine gold whence beams His image plain
Is stored within His innermost abode?
It were mysterious if the Master's Hand
Lavished its skill some choice work to prepare,
And then unfinished, cast it on the strand,
To perish incomplete and broken there.
Lavished its skill some choice work to prepare,
And then unfinished, cast it on the strand,
To perish incomplete and broken there.
But when the last completing touch is given,
The master-touch that all the rest inspires,
And the rich colours and the gold of heaven,—
Enamelled in the last of many fires,—
The master-touch that all the rest inspires,
And the rich colours and the gold of heaven,—
Enamelled in the last of many fires,—
Shine forth at length to full perfection wrought,
A vessel meet the Master's House to grace,
A picture breathing with the Master's thought,
A portrait beaming back the Master's Face;—
A vessel meet the Master's House to grace,
190
A portrait beaming back the Master's Face;—
What wonder if His treasure thence He take,
Where earthly damps the burnished gold might dim,
Where careless hands the gracious form might break—
Take to the Father's House, within, with Him?
Where earthly damps the burnished gold might dim,
Where careless hands the gracious form might break—
Take to the Father's House, within, with Him?
What wonder, when the training of the schools
Has done such work as schools and lessons can,—
When through the discipline of tasks and rules
The boy compacts,—expands,—into the man,—
Has done such work as schools and lessons can,—
When through the discipline of tasks and rules
The boy compacts,—expands,—into the man,—
If to the Field the Father bids him come,
Where manhood's earnest standards are unfurled?
Is not the school an exile from the home?
Is not the school the threshold of a world?
Where manhood's earnest standards are unfurled?
Is not the school an exile from the home?
Is not the school the threshold of a world?
Who wonders when the finished gem is borne
Its light upon the Sovereign's brow to yield?
Who would not wonder if the ripened corn
Were left to wither on the harvest-field?
Its light upon the Sovereign's brow to yield?
Who would not wonder if the ripened corn
Were left to wither on the harvest-field?
Yet we who wander o'er the leafless land
Where golden sheaves waved musical and fair,
On us fall heavily, as thus we stand,
The blank and silence of the falling year.
Where golden sheaves waved musical and fair,
191
The blank and silence of the falling year.
Still at the school we miss the brother's eye
Whose working near us made us work our best,
Whose generous smile still drew our aims on high,
Whose ripe achievement shamed self-soothing rest.
Whose working near us made us work our best,
Whose generous smile still drew our aims on high,
Whose ripe achievement shamed self-soothing rest.
We mourn, “O God! we needed him so much!
Here are so many tangling coils to loose,
So many hearts that need the tenderest touch,
So few hands trained like his to finest use!
Here are so many tangling coils to loose,
So many hearts that need the tenderest touch,
So few hands trained like his to finest use!
“And hast Thou thus through blows and fires,” we sigh,
“And subtlest touches, shaped this instrument
For choicest work, only to rest on high?”
But swift the answer smites our discontent:
“And subtlest touches, shaped this instrument
For choicest work, only to rest on high?”
But swift the answer smites our discontent:
“This earth is but for learning and for training,
Earth's highest work but such as children do;
The workmen here their priceless skill are gaining,
The true life-work is yonder, out of view.”
Earth's highest work but such as children do;
The workmen here their priceless skill are gaining,
The true life-work is yonder, out of view.”
Lord! we would bow, while faith our grief controls,
And thank Thee for the liberating blow
Which breaks these chains wherewith we cramp our souls
To little rounded dreams of life below,—
And thank Thee for the liberating blow
192
To little rounded dreams of life below,—
Which shows this life doth but our life begin,
Is but outside, the Porch of the Abode;
And death the going home, the entering in,
The stepping forth on the wide world of God.
Is but outside, the Porch of the Abode;
And death the going home, the entering in,
The stepping forth on the wide world of God.
193
THE SHADOW OF DEATH AND “THE SHADOW OF DYING.”
“‘There are many shadows of death.’ There are calamities, bereavements,
desolations which, for the moment, sunder you from earth much the
same as if you were absent from the body; and fierce diseases which
come so near to dissolution that you ask, ‘Tell me, my soul, can this be
death?’ But if these are shadows of death, on the other hand the believer's
dissolution is but the shadow of dying. The light of the gospel
penetrates far in, and the glory about to be revealed shines clear and
bright beyond.”
—A Morning by the Lake of Galilee, by Dr. Hamilton.
Whilst in breathless repose thou art lying,
Thy words still breathe forth living breath;
To thee but “the shadow of dying,”
On us rests “the shadow of death.”
Thy words still breathe forth living breath;
To thee but “the shadow of dying,”
On us rests “the shadow of death.”
The barrier changed to a portal,
The glory on thee through hath shined;
Thou hast passed from its shadow, immortal,
And left all the shadows behind.
The glory on thee through hath shined;
Thou hast passed from its shadow, immortal,
And left all the shadows behind.
194
But on us still the shadow is resting;
The shadow is all we can see;
Earth with heavier darkness investing,
By all the sweet light lost with thee;—
The shadow is all we can see;
Earth with heavier darkness investing,
By all the sweet light lost with thee;—
With the mind ever fearlessly moving
To welcome all light from all sides;
With the heart which by force of its loving
Swept all ice-blocks away in its tides;
To welcome all light from all sides;
With the heart which by force of its loving
Swept all ice-blocks away in its tides;
With that lowliness, gentlest, serenest,
Like a glory around thee which shone,
Who couldst stoop to give love to the meanest,
But stoop to seek honour from none;
Like a glory around thee which shone,
Who couldst stoop to give love to the meanest,
But stoop to seek honour from none;
With the wide-seeing glance of the sages,
And the glad, simple trust of the child;—
Spirit radiant as e'er through the ages
Loved to drink of the well undefiled!
And the glad, simple trust of the child;—
Spirit radiant as e'er through the ages
Loved to drink of the well undefiled!
We count it thy joy to be taken,
Thou countedst it ours to be left;
Still earth's sleep with the Glad News to waken,
Nor quite of thy presence bereft.
Thou countedst it ours to be left;
Still earth's sleep with the Glad News to waken,
Nor quite of thy presence bereft.
In one Church Universal abiding
(No narrower Home e'er was thine),
In one God and Father confiding,
One Lord ever human, divine;
(No narrower Home e'er was thine),
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One Lord ever human, divine;
On one Strength, in one service, relying,
Embreathed by one Spirit's life-breath;
In the light of Him living whose dying
Has made but a shadow of death.
Embreathed by one Spirit's life-breath;
In the light of Him living whose dying
Has made but a shadow of death.
Monday, November 24, 1867.
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TO ONE AT REST.
And needest thou our prayers no more, safe folded 'mid the Blest?
How changed art thou since last we met to keep the day of rest!
Young with the youth of angels, wise with the growth of years;
For we have passed since thou hast gone a week of many tears,
And thou hast passed a week with Christ, a week without a sin,
Thy robes made white in Jesus' blood, all glorious within.
How changed art thou since last we met to keep the day of rest!
Young with the youth of angels, wise with the growth of years;
For we have passed since thou hast gone a week of many tears,
And thou hast passed a week with Christ, a week without a sin,
Thy robes made white in Jesus' blood, all glorious within.
We shall miss thee at a thousand turns along life's weary track,
Not a sorrow or a joy, but we shall long to call thee back;
Yearn for thy true and gentle heart, long thy bright smile to see,
For many dear and true are left, but none are quite like thee!
And evermore to all our life a deeper tone is given,
For a playmate of our childhood has entered into heaven.
Not a sorrow or a joy, but we shall long to call thee back;
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For many dear and true are left, but none are quite like thee!
And evermore to all our life a deeper tone is given,
For a playmate of our childhood has entered into heaven.
How wise and great and glorious thy gentle soul has grown,
Loving as thou art loved by God, knowing as thou art known!
Yet in that world thou carest yet for those thou lov'dst in this;
The rich man did in torments, and wilt not thou in bliss?
For sitting at the Saviour's feet, and gazing in His face,
Surely thou'lt not unlearn one gentle human grace.
Human and not angelic the form He deigns to wear;
Of Jesus, not of angels the likeness thou shalt bear.
Loving as thou art loved by God, knowing as thou art known!
Yet in that world thou carest yet for those thou lov'dst in this;
The rich man did in torments, and wilt not thou in bliss?
For sitting at the Saviour's feet, and gazing in His face,
Surely thou'lt not unlearn one gentle human grace.
Human and not angelic the form He deigns to wear;
Of Jesus, not of angels the likeness thou shalt bear.
At rest from all the storms of life, from its night watches drear,
From the tumultuous hopes of earth, and from its aching fear;
Sacred and sainted now to us is thy familiar name;
High is thy sphere above us now, and yet in this the same,
Together do we watch and wait for that long-promised day,
When the Voice that rends the tombs shall call, “Arise and come away,
My Bride and my Redeemed; winter and night are past,
And the time of singing and of light has come to thee at last;”
When the Family is gathered and the Father's House complete,
And we and thou, beloved, in our Father's smile shall meet.
From the tumultuous hopes of earth, and from its aching fear;
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High is thy sphere above us now, and yet in this the same,
Together do we watch and wait for that long-promised day,
When the Voice that rends the tombs shall call, “Arise and come away,
My Bride and my Redeemed; winter and night are past,
And the time of singing and of light has come to thee at last;”
When the Family is gathered and the Father's House complete,
And we and thou, beloved, in our Father's smile shall meet.
199
IT IS NO DREAM.
Was it a dream? such gladness with it bringing,
That life whose dawn with such deep joy we hailed,—
Those loving baby arms so fondly clinging,
Those eyes whose smiles so soon in death were veiled?
That life whose dawn with such deep joy we hailed,—
Those loving baby arms so fondly clinging,
Those eyes whose smiles so soon in death were veiled?
Alas! no dream had left such life-long traces,
Such silence as that little life has left,—
The blank no other presence e'er replaces;—
It is no dream which leaves us thus bereft.
Such silence as that little life has left,—
The blank no other presence e'er replaces;—
It is no dream which leaves us thus bereft.
It is no dream! thy spirit dieth never!
That little star through endless time shall beam;
Heaven shall be brighter for thy light for ever,
And gladder for thy voice. It is no dream!
That little star through endless time shall beam;
Heaven shall be brighter for thy light for ever,
And gladder for thy voice. It is no dream!
It is no dream! By God that life was given;
Man may repent his gifts; God deals not thus:
A new immortal joy is ours in heaven,
And He who gave will give thee back to us.
Man may repent his gifts; God deals not thus:
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And He who gave will give thee back to us.
It is no dream that Paradise immortal
Where He who blessed the babes has welcomed thee;
Fearless the infants pass its solemn portal,
Borne in His arms, His face alone they see.
Where He who blessed the babes has welcomed thee;
Fearless the infants pass its solemn portal,
Borne in His arms, His face alone they see.
Yet Father! who for us in love most tender
Didst yield to death Thy Son, Thine only Son,
Thou knowest all the cost of such surrender;
Help us to say with Him, Thy will be done!
Didst yield to death Thy Son, Thine only Son,
Thou knowest all the cost of such surrender;
Help us to say with Him, Thy will be done!
Till looking back with this our child beside us,
On all the way through which our feet were brought,
We sing, “It was no dream by which God tried us,—
No dream the weight of glory it has wrought!”
On all the way through which our feet were brought,
We sing, “It was no dream by which God tried us,—
No dream the weight of glory it has wrought!”
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A TRUE DREAM.
I dreamt we danced in careless glee,
With hearts and footsteps light and free,
That one so dearly loved and I,
As in the childish days gone by
For ever.
With hearts and footsteps light and free,
That one so dearly loved and I,
As in the childish days gone by
For ever.
I felt her arms around me fold,
I heard her soft laugh as of old;
Her eyes with smiles were brimming o'er—
Eyes we may meet on earth no more
For ever.
I heard her soft laugh as of old;
Her eyes with smiles were brimming o'er—
Eyes we may meet on earth no more
For ever.
Then there came mingling with my dreams
A sense perplexed of loss and change—
An echo dim of time and tears,
Until I said, “How long it seems
Since thus we danced! Is it not strange?
Do you not feel the weight of years?
Or dread life's coming shadows cold?
Or mourn to think we must grow old?”
Wondering, she paused a little while,
Then answered, with a radiant smile,
“No! never!”
A sense perplexed of loss and change—
An echo dim of time and tears,
Until I said, “How long it seems
Since thus we danced! Is it not strange?
Do you not feel the weight of years?
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Or mourn to think we must grow old?”
Wondering, she paused a little while,
Then answered, with a radiant smile,
“No! never!”
Wondering, as if to her I told
The customs of some foreign land;
Or spoke a tongue she knew of old,
But could no longer understand,
Till o'er her face that sunshine broke,
And with that radiant smile she spoke
That “Never!”
The customs of some foreign land;
Or spoke a tongue she knew of old,
But could no longer understand,
Till o'er her face that sunshine broke,
And with that radiant smile she spoke
That “Never!”
But not until the dream had fled
I knew the sense of what she said;
Young with immortal truth and love,
Child in the Father's House above
For ever.
I knew the sense of what she said;
Young with immortal truth and love,
Child in the Father's House above
For ever.
We echo back thy words again,
They smite us with no grief or pain;
We journey not towards the night,
But to the breaking of the light,
Together
They smite us with no grief or pain;
We journey not towards the night,
But to the breaking of the light,
Together
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Our life is no poor cisterned store
The lavish years are draining low;
But living streams that, welling o'er,
Fresh from the living Fountain flow
For ever.
The lavish years are draining low;
But living streams that, welling o'er,
Fresh from the living Fountain flow
For ever.
204
“ALL LIVE UNTO HIM.”
Thy voice is not hushed, darling, though to me its tones are still,
And have left a silence in my home no music e'er can fill:
And have left a silence in my home no music e'er can fill:
There is a place within God's world where thou art heard, my boy;
And thy words are words of praise, and thy tones are tones of joy.
And thy words are words of praise, and thy tones are tones of joy.
Thine eyes are not closed, darling, though they are closed to me,
And half the light is gone with them from all the sights I see;
And half the light is gone with them from all the sights I see;
They have but opened on the day, the day that needs no rest,
And they shine like happy stars in the heaven of the Blest.
And they shine like happy stars in the heaven of the Blest.
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Thy spirit has not passed away, no sleep its vision shrouds;
It has but passed into the light, the light beyond the clouds.
It has but passed into the light, the light beyond the clouds.
Thou art not lonely, darling, though so lone thou hast left me;
Thousands of happy spirits love and rejoice with thee;
Thousands of happy spirits love and rejoice with thee;
And He who loved the little ones and tenderly caressed
Has laid thee in His arms, darling, and clasped thee to His breast.
Has laid thee in His arms, darling, and clasped thee to His breast.
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