 | [Poems by Smith in] Lyric gems : a collection of original and select sacred poetry |  |
50
PROVIDENCE.
S. F. SMITH.
Through all the years of childhood's prime
Changes on changes roll;
Each brings its varied scenes of bliss
Or sorrow to the soul;
In infant joys and infant griefs
A little life we live—
A miniature of all the scenes
That future years shall give.
Changes on changes roll;
Each brings its varied scenes of bliss
Or sorrow to the soul;
In infant joys and infant griefs
A little life we live—
A miniature of all the scenes
That future years shall give.
But not a scene in life comes on—
Of gladness or of tears—
Where not the hand of him that rules
Our mortal state appears;
Each change that comes, of joy or wo,
Is fixed by heaven's decree—
Nor would we alter aught that God
Wished from eternity.
Of gladness or of tears—
Where not the hand of him that rules
Our mortal state appears;
Each change that comes, of joy or wo,
Is fixed by heaven's decree—
Nor would we alter aught that God
Wished from eternity.
O no, we would not alter aught
That wisdom hath designed
To train for everlasting bliss
The wandering, wayward mind;
It is our joy that he we love
Will be our guide forever;
Nor aught from his paternal care
Our interests shall sever.
That wisdom hath designed
To train for everlasting bliss
The wandering, wayward mind;
It is our joy that he we love
Will be our guide forever;
Nor aught from his paternal care
Our interests shall sever.
70
NEW-YEAR.
S. F. SMITH.
Thickly they gather to the past—
The eventful years that roll;
The sands of life are dropping fast—
The racer nears the goal—
The eventful years that roll;
The sands of life are dropping fast—
The racer nears the goal—
The ship upon the stormy sea
Rests not for adverse weather,
Until she reach her port, or sink,
Cargo and men together.
Rests not for adverse weather,
Until she reach her port, or sink,
Cargo and men together.
71
Thou art the racer to the goal,
Swift o'er the level plain;
Thine are the rapid sands that roll—
How few may yet remain!
Swift o'er the level plain;
Thine are the rapid sands that roll—
How few may yet remain!
Thine is the good ship on the sea,
Tossed by the tempests round her;
One tempest more, and all thy hopes
Of earthly joy may founder.
Tossed by the tempests round her;
One tempest more, and all thy hopes
Of earthly joy may founder.
Seek then in heaven a holy arm,
To be thy strength and stay,
To save thy spirit from alarm,
When all things pass away;
To be thy strength and stay,
To save thy spirit from alarm,
When all things pass away;
So shall a holy hope be thine,
If future years roll o'er thee;
Or this, in glorious welcome, spread
The gates of heaven before thee.
If future years roll o'er thee;
Or this, in glorious welcome, spread
The gates of heaven before thee.
AUTUMNAL HYMN.
The leaves, around me falling,
Are preaching of decay,
The hollow winds are calling—
“Come, pilgrim, come away!”
The day, in night declining,
Says, I must too decline,
The year, its bloom resigning—
Its lot foreshadows mine!
Are preaching of decay,
The hollow winds are calling—
“Come, pilgrim, come away!”
The day, in night declining,
Says, I must too decline,
The year, its bloom resigning—
Its lot foreshadows mine!
72
The light my path surrounding,
The loves to which I cling,
The hopes within me bounding,
The joys that round me wing—
All, all, like stars at even,
Just gleam and shoot away,
Pass on before to heaven,
And chide at my delay.
The loves to which I cling,
The hopes within me bounding,
The joys that round me wing—
All, all, like stars at even,
Just gleam and shoot away,
Pass on before to heaven,
And chide at my delay.
The friends gone there before me
Are calling from on high,
And happy angels o'er me
Tempt sweetly to the sky.
“Why wait,” they say, “and wither,
'Mid scenes of death and sin?
O rise to glory hither,
And find true life begin!”
Are calling from on high,
And happy angels o'er me
Tempt sweetly to the sky.
“Why wait,” they say, “and wither,
'Mid scenes of death and sin?
O rise to glory hither,
And find true life begin!”
I hear the invitation,
And fain would rise and come,
A sinner to salvation,
An exile to his home;
But while I here must linger,
Thus, thus, let all I see
Point on with faithful finger,
To heaven, O Lord, and Thee!
And fain would rise and come,
A sinner to salvation,
An exile to his home;
But while I here must linger,
Thus, thus, let all I see
Point on with faithful finger,
To heaven, O Lord, and Thee!
76
THE UNOPENED LETTER.
S. F. SMITH.
Month after month the sickly youth wasted and pined away,
Far from the kindred friends who in his heart's affections lay;
He left the cherished joys of home to seek a milder sky,
That waning health might be restored;—but left that home—to die.
Far from the kindred friends who in his heart's affections lay;
He left the cherished joys of home to seek a milder sky,
That waning health might be restored;—but left that home—to die.
The wintry tempests came and passed—the spring-flowers shed their bloom,—
And summer shone in gorgeousness around his future tomb;
The glimmering hope was in the breast of those who loved him well,
That in their own endeared abode, at home, he yet might dwell.
And summer shone in gorgeousness around his future tomb;
The glimmering hope was in the breast of those who loved him well,
That in their own endeared abode, at home, he yet might dwell.
That glimmering hope was like the light the autumn eve brings on;
Serene and beautiful, but brief—too quickly fled and gone;
'T was in the earliest days in which the leaf begins to wither,
The joyous hope and life itself faded and fled together.
Serene and beautiful, but brief—too quickly fled and gone;
'T was in the earliest days in which the leaf begins to wither,
The joyous hope and life itself faded and fled together.
77
Silent and feeble lay the youth, while ebbed the living tide;
Strangers were all save one, who sat attentive at his side;
A letter came from those he loved—written with hearts of joy—
A letter full of tenderness—sent to their darling boy.
Strangers were all save one, who sat attentive at his side;
A letter came from those he loved—written with hearts of joy—
A letter full of tenderness—sent to their darling boy.
“Lay it aside”—he said, as life its sands was spending fast;
Heaven's holy hope shone in his soul—earth from his memory passed;
That letter—it was laid aside—affection's anxious token;
The sainted spirit rose to God—the seal remained unbroken.
Heaven's holy hope shone in his soul—earth from his memory passed;
That letter—it was laid aside—affection's anxious token;
The sainted spirit rose to God—the seal remained unbroken.
107
THE DEPARTED.
S. F. SMITH.
When spirits from their cumbering clay
Ascend to heaven's bright shore,
Our hoping hearts with triumph say—
“Not lost, but gone before.”
Ascend to heaven's bright shore,
Our hoping hearts with triumph say—
“Not lost, but gone before.”
The wheel lies broken at the fount,
The pitcher at the spring;
But upward doth the spirit mount,
And notes of glory sing.
The pitcher at the spring;
But upward doth the spirit mount,
And notes of glory sing.
Then calmly may our spirits bow
Beneath affliction's rod;
Who, who would murmur that his friend
Is safe in joy and God?
Beneath affliction's rod;
Who, who would murmur that his friend
Is safe in joy and God?
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