University of Virginia Library

[O heaven born muse! inspire my humble lay]

O heaven born muse! inspire my humble lay,
To sing the glories of all charming May!
To wake in all an ardent wish to see
The beauties, which have pleased, delighted me.
Would you with more elastic step than ere you trod,
Spring o'er the field and touch the grassy sod;
Would you ere feel your blood with swifter course,
Flow through your veins in all its youthful force;
Would you ere breathe as pure an air as blew,
O'er Eden's garden wet with early dew;
Would you ere feel what never you enjoyed,
By other scenes by other pleasures cloyed;
Would you ere feel, what's far above the rest,
Pleasures which sooth and satisfy the breast;
Rise from your couch before the rising sun,
Has o'er the plain or lofty hill begun
“To shed his orient beams on herb, fruit, flower,
Glittering with dew,” or yet obtained the power
To scatter from before him, far away,
The freshness, beauty of the blushing day.
See now the rising sun from ocean's bed,
Has o'er the earth his golden glories shed;
Hear now the birds, as on extended wing
They clear the air, with notes melodious sing,
And raise to him, to him who gave them birth,
Gave them besides this green, this lovely earth,
Their morning hymn. And will not these inspire
In man emotions purer far, and higher,
Than ere before he felt, or even thought,
Could with such ease be had, such pleasure sought?

[The earth is parched with heat, flowers droop and die]

The earth is parched with heat, flowers droop and die,
The clouds of dust fly whirling through the sky;
The cattle lowing seek the friendly shade,
By lofty rock or some dark forest made.
The traveller spent with toil, by heat oppressed,
Near some tall oak, exhausted, sinks to rest;
And dreams of home, of all his soul holds dear,
Dreams not, alas! of fatal danger near.
Dark low'ring clouds o'er heaven's bright azure run,
A bloody redness vails the scorching sun.
The river's surface, late so green and bright,
Rolls back its waves, dark as the shades of night.
Hushed is the wind, nor e'en a zephyr blows,
All nature sunk in deep profound repose.
The farmer leaves his fields, with terror flies,
And often turning views the angry skies.
See now the waves rise higher than before,
In wild commotion lash the sounding shore.
See through the air the leaves and stubble borne,
The slender tree from the thick grove uptorn.
Hark through the heavens, with peal of awful sound,
Rolls the deep thunder startling all around.
The lofty hill e'en from its centre shakes,
The bravest heart o'ercome with terror quakes;
See on the ground, by that resistless stroke,
The wretched traveller, the blasted oak,
In equal lot, by equal force o'erthrown:
He sunk in death, he uttered not a groan;
He saw no flash, he heard no awful peal,
From life to death insensibly to steal
Him God decreed; why then ought man to mourn,
From earthly joys to heavenly he was borne.
The thunder ceased, the gloomy clouds had fled,
Wide o'er the earth, refreshing zephyrs shed
The sweet perfume of many a laughing flower,
Or sighed with soothing notes through many a silvan bower.

Lines,

Written on Reading Stuart's Account of The Treatment of Slaves in Charleston

Oh slavery! thou bane of human kind;
Thou tyrant o'er the body and the mind;
To all that's just, to all that's right a foe,
Thou fill'st the world with misery and woe.
Ah! many a wretch by thee is caused to mourn;
From friend, from relative, from country torn,
From all the joys that e'er his soul held dear,
Beneath thy cruel scourge is doomed to fear.
By curs't desire of gain, by thirst for gold,
The unhappy victim of thy crime is sold.
Is sold? to whom? would I could hide the shame!
To man; O traffic base, disgraceful to the name;
To man, with reason and with freedom blest,
O'er all creation placed the first, and best;
Alas! how fallen from that station he,
Who, blest with reason, proud in being free,
Can from his proper sphere a being draw,
Deprive of rights, of liberty, and law;
Deprive, (what's far more cruel than the rest,)
Of all the gifts with which himself is blest.
Would that my lips the tale could never tell,
The tale of horror, known, alas! too well.
Would that the world had never seen the day,
When man his fellow man should thus betray,
Would rather every ship that sailed the main,
For such base traffic, such degrading gain,
Had sunk with all beneath the raging sea,
Where they from slavery ever would be free:
Free from a tyrant's power, who often rends
Parent from children, friend from dearest friend;
Free from a life of wretchedness and woe,
Free from all toil and suffering here below.
Ah! who could read the story of that woe?
And who if reading half their sorrow know?
Would that by me their wrongs could half be told,
Would that their sufferings I could half unfold.
Before our God and theirs those sufferings rise,
He sees their wrongs, he hears their helpless cries:
Soon may those wrongs and sufferings have an end,
Man be not foe to man, but friend.

Lines on Mount Auburn

Sing, heav'nly Muse, of that fair mountain sing,
Where rest in peace the honoured dead; and where
As the seasons roll around their heads, their
Children oft shall come, and o'er them drop the
Tear of grateful memory; and from their
Example learn the better how to live,
The better how to die. Learn from them,
As if the glorious sun his rays still shed
Upon them, and life's swift current still through
Their veins ran warm: as if before them were
Those forms so well remember'd, and they stood
Attentive to receive a parent's will
Respected. Hallowed spot! where still the dead
Seem yet to live, yet to give instruction
The more regarded, since from them it comes.
Here, as with devious steps we wander through
Thy thickets dark, or near some tomb o'er which
The flowers of spring in beauty wave musing,
We shall from worldly thoughts, and worldly cares
Withdraw ourselves, and deep communion hold
With those long since departed; and raise our
Souls to him whose never ceasing goodness
Crowns our life. Here oft let youth retire from
Life's gay scene, from pleasures glittering round, to
Learn that though they live by worldly pleasures
Compassed round, and though the flowers of spring are
Breathing there in richest fragrance, and the
Woods are in their greenest verdure crowned, that
As those flowers by winter's cruel blast their
Fragrance and their beauty soon will lose, so
They on earth shall flourish but awhile; that
Soon their flowering spring by the chill blast
Of age shall wither; and thus may they be
Led, to place their happiness on things not
Fleeting but eternal in the heavens.
Here too let manhood come from restless cares
Of life withdrawn, and learning here, from those
Whose life was most employed in duties to
Their country, and to man most useful, death
Spares not even manhood, life's most active
Scene, he shall from this lesson learn to live
A better and thus a happier man.
And here may age, whose silver locks proclaim
Life's winter, learn that their example still
Shall live and generations yet unborn
Revere their memory. And let them learn
“The storms of Wintry Time will quickly pass,
And one unbounded Spring encircle all;”
“Where they shall flourish in immortal youth,
Unhurt, amid the war of elements,
The wreck of matter and the crush of worlds.”

Lines suggested by hearing the beach, at F. Peabody's Mills, South Salem.

December 21. 1833.

[Hast thou ever heard the voice of nature]

Hast thou ever heard the voice of nature,
In the whirlwind's roar, the zephyr's gentle
Breath, in the fierce eagle's cry, when darting
Forth he seeks the spoiler of his nest,
In the soft whispering voice of love with
Which the dove salutes his mate? or hast thou
Seen nature put forth her force in various
Forms, the lightning rend the solid oak,
The lofty cedars bend like reeds before
The blast, the madden'd ocean lash the shore
With foam, or hast thou seen the rising sun,
When first he looks forth on a summer's day,
Or, when his beams fall fiercer down, the cattle
Seek the cool refreshing shade, slaking their
Thirst in some hoarse-murmuring brook?
Hast thou e'er seen such sights or heard such sounds,
And never thought of Him, who rides upon
The whirlwind, who in the gentle zephyr breathes,
Who to the dove, the eagle gave their notes
Of rage or love, who from his awful hand
The lightning hurls, the lofty cedars bend,
And with his nostrils heapeth up the waves,
Who made the brook to run to quench the thirst
The cattle feel in summer's sultry reign?
If on thine ear or sight all these have fell
Unheeded, and thou hast liv'd unmindful
Of a God, who gave thee sight to see and
Ear to hear, and for these thy senses formed,
Harmonious sounds, and ever varying
Beauties; learn oft as upon thy sight or
Ear they fall to think of him who made them.

“Ambitione inani pectus caret”

[What more delightful than to wander forth]

What more delightful than to wander forth
In spring, before the sun has chas'd away
The freshness of the morn; or shook the dew
From off the tender grass? Nature seems
As young, as when the morning light first broke
On Eden; as calm the river's surface;
And the birds as sweetly tune their morning
Hymn. Beneath the shade of oak reflected
In the sleeping stream, I set me down,
And muse and gaze on the unrival'd scene.
Would that my thoughts could speak, my tongue describe
The pleasures, that a scene like this affords!
No—language is too feeble to give them
Utterance. Would to him whose feelings have
Been swallow'd up by love of gold; to him
Whom mad ambition drives; to him whose sense
Is cloy'd by luxury's empoison'd cup,
Would that to them the happiness I feel
I could describe! 'twould strike the fetters from
The slave of gold; 'twould stop ambition's mad
Career, and dash the bowl from palsied hand
Of luxury. The birds their joy express
In notes of sweetest harmony; without
A wave the peaceful river glides along;
The blue sky without a cloud rejoices;
Words fail to give my feelings utterance.
The pleasure within my breast surpasses
Far, that which prompts the sweetest lay
Of bird; more calm my breast than the smooth stream,
With looks more joyful than the azure vault,
In silent gratitude, I raise mine eyes
To heaven.

A Song Composed by Mr J. Very, to be Sung at the Class-Supper of the Sophomore Class of 1834

Death of Lafayette

He is gone, loaded with years and honors!
He who before the rich rewards of Kings
Preferred to succor the distressed, and raise
His arm in freedom's holy cause, is gone!
Mourn France a son, who shed around thy name
A never-fading splendor! He caus'd no
Widow's tears to flow, he caus'd no orphans
“To demand their sire with tears of artless
Innocence.” Heaven hasten'd not to snatch from
Our admiring gaze; but granted riches
And honors, length of days to show, that, e'en
Upon earth, virtue is oft rewarded.
Columbia's daughters weep! But for him
Your children, now perhaps in bondage,
Might live to curse the day that gave them birth.
And yet her sons lament! lament for him,
Who in his youthful days your fathers' arm
Upheld, reviv'd their drooping hopes, and gave
Them vigor to resist their haughty foe.
Ye mountains veil your heads in clouds and mourn
For him, who around your summits cast glory
More bright than noon-day sun! Ye waving pines
Sigh louder in the blast; for he, who gave
You liberty's fair soil, is now no more.
And thou, O boundless ocean, mourn! for ne'er
Again thy waves shall bear to freedom's coast,
One more worthy of thy lamentation.
Fairer, Lafayette, than summer's day thy
Latter years, and thou on whom a nation's
Blessings fell, shall now receive a nation's tears.

Old Age

Lines

Suggested By Seeing A Butterfly Sculptured Upon A Tomb

Fit emblem of th' immortal soul! though thou
Art soaring high, thou didst inhabit once
A dark and loathsome mansion. Such is man,
Like to the worm, which once thou wast, he creeps
Encumber'd now by earthly bonds, which check
His eager flight, and to a narrower
Sphere confine his untried powers; lest perhaps
The soul ascending premature might fall
Supported by too feeble wing. Attend
O man! and learn thy destiny, which hand
Divine has traced on nature's works. Seasons
In their ceaseless round proclaim it; darkness
And light; and ocean's ebb and flow in turn
Succeeding; sun and moon oft veil'd in dim
Eclipse; calm succeeding tempest; nature
Through all her works proclaims it, from the orbs,
That wheel their courses through the void immense,
To insect fluttering in the summer's breeze,
All, all proclaim the destiny of man.
Learn then O man! from such unnumber'd signs,
Where lies thy happiness, whence thy being
Sprang and whither tends: if with an upward
Flight thou hop'st to soar, when from this earthly
Coil thou'rt freed; plume thy wings while here below;
Cast off what then may clog thy flight, and bear
Thee down. Passions fierce attack, attack most
Direful; lust, poisoning the relish
Of the soul for all that's pure; indolence,
With slow yet ceaseless course eating its way,
Like rust, into the mind, and deadening all
Its energies: these and thousand nameless foes,
That strive to fix thy thoughts on things below
Thy noble destiny, repel; then, like
The phoenix, thou shalt rise triumphant from
Thine ashes; and, on untiring pinions,
Heaven-ward borne shalt seek thy resting place.

Kind Words

Pleasure

Goddess of pleasure, where thy golden car?
Rides it on zephyrs through the unclouded sky?
Or mov'st thou with silken sails and silver
Oars down the smooth river, sported around
By daughters of the sea, fann'd by the wings
Of smiling loves; or on its shady bank
Do'st thou repose, lull'd by distant music
Stealing soft o'er its calm bosom? or sit'st
Thou in more cool retreat, some grotto dark
Of living marble hewn by nature's hand,
Catching the sound of mighty water-fall
Borne on the wind? Though 'neath unclouded skies
Thy votaries seek thee, where the zephyrs sport
Around, and scatter odors from their wings;
And though down the stream of life, with silken
Sails wafted by prosperous winds, they glide;
Thee seeking in ever-varied worldly
Joys; and though from busy scenes of life
Retir'd, some on the shady bank have woo'd thee;
Or in grotto's dark recess, deluded;
How oft hast thou, like the false flickering
Light, which leads the weary trav'ller astray,
Danc'd round them in thy golden car, &, when
They sought to enter, fled their eager grasp!
Ask him, who, led astray o'er treach'rous bogs,
Is wand'ring; ask of him where shines the light,
Which that he follows seems:—“At home,” he says.
There, pleasure, rest thy golden car. The mind
Is its own home. In fair and stormy sky
Alike thou dwell'st, thy bark alike is steer'd
Down the calm stream, and through the raging sea.
It is the mind, communing with itself,
That cast a sunshine on the paths of life;
That midst adversity's dark hour can see
Above a clear unclouded sky; that rides
As undisturb'd upon the troubl'd waves
Of active life, as in the calm haven
Of retirement. Who seeks thee not within,
In vain he woos thee on the shady bank;
In vain he courts thee in the grotto's dark
Recess. Though burst his stores with India's rich
Produce, yet still he will be poor; nations
May bow beneath his sway, yet weaker he
Shall be than those who call him master. Let
His table groan, and let his cup o'erflow;
If he neglects the banquet of the mind,
Drinks not from out that inward fount, which he
Who drinks of never thirsts, still he shall live
In want, in want shall die.

[Give me an eye, that manly deeds]

[I saw a child, whose eyes had never drank]

I saw a child, whose eyes had never drank
The cheerful light of heaven; yet they were fair
And beautiful, and oft those mild blue orbs
Would turn, and seem to seek the forms of those
He lov'd. Full well he knew them, for we need
Not sight true friends to know. If stranger's voice,
Or stranger's step obtruded on his ear,—
Shrieking, he to his mother closer clung,
And with his fair yet sightless eyes uprais'd
Would seem from her, whom best he knew, to ask
Protection. His ear was tun'd to nicest
Harmony. His voice—sweet as nightingale's,
That in some lone vale of Attica,
'Midst ivy dark, sits warbling her plaintive
Notes. Entranc'd the shepherd, as he
Hies him home with quicken'd pace, unconscious
Of delay, lingers to hear her evening
Song. Sightless, think not that he was sad, although
The smiles of morn; the blushes of the sun,
When 'neath his crimson canopy of clouds
He mildly sinks to rest; the evening star,
Seen from behind dark-rolling clouds smiling
Amid the storm; the moon rising from out
The ocean's bed; the lofty groves bending
To catch the zephyrs, as they come laden
With balmy spoils from many a flow'ry field;
The brook leaping from rock to rock, and then
Wand'ring 'mid thickets dark, where scarce the sun
The noon day heat can penetrate, then through
The wide-extended plain, now flowing smooth,
Now ruffled, hoarsely murm'ring o'er the rocks,
Until it fades in distance from our view;
And though all the beauties, which with lavish
Hand nature outspreads, all to him were dark;
Think not, although he ne'er was bless'd
By sights like these, that he was sorrowful.
O no. He knew not, felt not he had want
Of that he never had. With what delight
O sun, would he have view'd thy morning smiles,
Thy evening blushes, when thou sink'st to rest;
If, into those blue eyes, that roll'd in vain
To find thy light, thy piercing beam had gone!
O star of eve, how beautiful wouldst thou
Appear smiling amid the storm! and thou,
Fair groves bending to catch the zephyrs! thou,
O brook, flowing through thickets dark, and wide
Extended plain!
But once, ere he departed to the world,
Where all are bless'd with perfect sight, the want
Of vision dimm'd his eyes with tears—but once,
For mother's fondest care prevented more.
It was a summer's day cloudless and fair;
Alas! that summer's day he ne'er beheld!
The cooling breezes play'd around his head,
Tossing in sport his auburn locks; as, on
A bank cover'd with fairest flowers, mirthful
He sat, near to his paternal mansion.
The rose bent not beneath his airy touch;
The drops of dew, that on it hung, scarce fell,
And falling seem'd to mourn, that he, who on
It laid so light a hand, should not behold
Its beauties. Sweeter to him its fragrance,
For loss of one makes other senses more
Acute. Perchance a bee upon his hand
Alighted. He, dreaming nought of harm, held
Fast and crush'd it; but ere that was done, its
Sting had deeply pierced, and many a tear
Gush'd from those sightless eyes. Let us from this
A moral draw: though done by him who ne'er
Enjoy'd the light of day, 'twill serve to teach
Those, who have always sported in its beams,
A useful lesson. Oft as vice assails,
Rememb'ring that it stings both soul and body,
Let us cast it from us; but if within
Us it has taken root and flourish'd long,
Let us, like that sightless boy, though many
A pang we suffer in the attempt, with firm,
Unsparing grasp, crush the dire foe, and be
Forever free.

The New Year

All hail new year! though clad in storms thou com'st,
To me thou art a welcome guest.
'Tis sweet to struggle with the wintry blast,
And, as the cruel storm is raging round,
To feel within the breast a calm as soft & sweet
As summer's eve; to see the snow whirling
In eddies, like the wide world in passion's
Eddies mingled, to see and smile is sweet.
To feel the breast as snow-flake pure, which falls
Upon the cheek; or if within anger
Should rise, to know 'twill melt as soon into
The tide of warm and ever-flowing love.
O this is sweet: come let us look where streams
The cheering light, and mark rough winter's gifts,
The social circle round the evening fire.
See the fond mother as with looks of love
She turns now here, now there, now her children
Smiles upon, and now their sire; and see him
As the laughing boy he raises, imprint
Upon his lips a father's kiss; and from heart
With bliss o'erflowing now to God a prayer
Of silent gratitude he gives. What pomp
Of kings can equal joy afford, or rank
With all her envied state?
Hadst thou a human heart, thou savage blast;
'Twould melt at such a sight, and thy rough voice
Would whisper soft in gentle zephyrs round
That dwelling.

Sleigh Ride

The Snow Drop

[Cold cold thy lips my gentle boy]

Spring

[The morn may lend its golden smile]

Lines

North River

Eheu! fugaces, Posthume, Posthume, Labuntur anni.

The Humming-Bird

Nature

Religion

A Withered Leaf—seen on a Poet's Table

The Stars

The Snow Bird

Memory

Memory

King Philip

The Painted Columbine

The Frozen Ship

My Mother's Voice

The Arab Steed

Hymn,

Song

Washington

The Autumn Leaf

Thou fair yet lifeless leaf! on whom decay
Seems beautiful, red glowing as thou hangest
Beneath the earliest touch of autumn's hand;
I pluck thee fluttering from thy parent vine,
Before the rude wind tears thee from its fond
Embrace to toss thy form, in idle play,
Shrivelled and brown upon the winter air:
For thou art as a tablet to the thoughts
That now are gushing fresh, as if my soul
Had drank new life amid these lofty shades,
And felt its being moved by sympathy
With Unseen power.
Brief monitor of frail humanity!
Why has decay that steals from off the cheek
The bloom of health, traces the aged brow
With lines of care dimming the burning eye,
And snatching from the form its lofty grace,
Why has it wrought on thee so fair a change;
And why in tints of beauty robed thy form
Brighter than decked before thy vernal prime?
Heaven's teachings are not lost on humble heart
Though written on the leaves, and strown upon
The faithless winds, still will its messages
Forever reach the heart that loves its God.
'Twas well to touch thy death with gayest hues
Even as the day sinks wrapt in gorgeous clouds,
For thou wert born to live but on the eye,
A thing of outward sense; of whose green youth,
And vigorous noon, and glittering age the child,
In lisping words, recounts. Thou wast not born,
Like him who gazes on thy splendor now,
To light a hidden soul with brighter hues
Than wait upon the colored dawn and hang
Upon the dying leaf; and, while decay
Deals rudely with his outward life, and clouds
Impatient gather to obscure its glory,
To shape like him, from out a world of change
A spirit into those eternal forms
Of Love, and Majesty, and Beauty, which,
Though here by feeble glance of sense unseen,
The all holy eyes of God approve.

The Winter Bird

Thou singest alone on the bare wintery bough
As if Spring with its leaves were around thee now;
And its voice, that was heard in the laughing rill,
And the breeze, as it whispered o'er meadow and hill,
Still fell on thine ear, as it glided along
To join the sweet tide of thine own gushing song
Sing on—though its sweetness was lost on the blast
And the storm has not heeded thy song as it passed;
Yet its music awoke in a heart that was near
A thought whose remembrance will ever prove dear—
Though the brook may be frozen, though silent its voice
And the gales through the meadows no longer rejoice
Still I felt as my ear caught thy glad note of glee,
That my heart in life's winter might carol like thee.

The Boy's Dream

A Ballad

[I murmur not though hard the lot]

The Torn Flower

[The moon was shining on the deck]

[Home of my youth! Where first my lot was cast]

[Haunts of my youth farewell! A while I leave]

Haunts of my youth farewell! A while I leave
You in your loveliness! A while I go
To visit other scenes, more fair, perhaps, but none
I love so well. Resistless as thy stream,
Fair river, when thou pour'st along swol'n with
Autumnal rains, is love of home within
The breast of man. So Afric's wretched son
With eye bent on his fast-receding home,
Has drop'd his scanty fare, heeds not his chains
But with the tear-drops starting in his eye
Exclaims—“There I was born”—“There is my home.”
The wanderer of ten long years, whom oft
Encounter'd dangers never learn'd to shed
A tear, weeps like a child when he beholds
The smoke of much-lov'd Ithaca. Beauty's
Fabl'd Goddess, since on earth no more she
Deigns to dwell, has left with thee, O home, her
All-enchanting Love. Dearer to Lapland's
Sons her new-clad plains, her ice-bound rivers,
Her mountain tops the residence of storms,
Than the green sunny plains, the vine-clad hills
The winding streams of favor'd Italy.
And ye my youthful haunts, though some there are
On which my eyes could dwell a summer's day
Nor heed the sun blushing to leave so
Fair a scene, nor evening's soft approach warning
My lingering footsteps home, though some there are
Which those who look on fairer scenes would pass
Contemptuous by yet all to me are
Beautiful, round all alike O home thy
Charm is thrown I love you all. The yellow
Leaves at my return perhaps will rustle
In the autumnal blast or winter's snows
May hide my winding path still will I trace
It out: for there's no winter in my love
For thee no age but death. Amid the snows
Of age 'twill like the ever-green appear
As fresh as in my vernal prime.

Death Decay and Change

The Portrait

Would I might stay those features as they pass,
Where beauty seems as if she loved to dwell;
And chain that smile upon the fickle glass,
That smile whose sweetness words in vain would tell;
Or fix thy glance with all its heaven of blue,
The evening star that floats its azure through!
But no—the spot where I would bid them rest
Is all unworthy they should linger there;
The blush of morn on Ocean's slumbering breast,
The star bright-imaged in its depths of air
Vanish from off its bosom like thy smile,
That rests but on so frail a thing awhile,
Then seeks a home whence it may ne'er depart,
The faithful mirror of a loving heart.

The Canary Bird

I cannot hear thy voice with others' ears,
Who make of thy lost liberty a gain;
And in thy tale of blighted hopes and fears
Feel not that every note is born with pain.
Alas! that with thy music's gentle swell
Past days of joy should through thy memory throng,
And each to thee their words of sorrow tell,
While ravished sense forgets thee in thy song.
The heart that on the past and future feeds,
And pours in human words its thoughts divine,
Though at each birth the spirit inly bleeds,
Its song may charm the listening ear like thine,
And men with gilded cage and praise will try
To make the bard like thee forget his native sky.

The Tree

I love thee when thy swelling buds appear,
And one by one their tender leaves unfold,
As if they knew that warmer suns were near
Nor longer sought to hide from winter's cold;
And when with darker growth thy leaves are seen
To veil from view the early robin's nest,
I love to lie beneath thy waving skreen
With limbs by summer's heat and toil opprest;
And when the autumn winds have stript thee bare,
And round thee lies the smooth untrodden snow,
When nought is thine that made thee once so fair,
I love to watch thy shadowy form below,
And through thy leafless arms to look above
On stars that brighter beam when most we need their love.

The Fossil Flower

Dark fossil flower! I see thy leaves unrolled,
With all their lines of beauty freshly marked,
As when the eye of Morn beamed on thee first,
And thou first turn'dst to meet its welcome smile.
And sometimes in the coals' bright rain-bow hues,
I dream I see the colors of thy prime,
And for a moment robe thy form again
In splendor not its own. Flower of the past!
Now as I look on thee, life's echoing tread
Falls noiseless on my ear; the present dies;
And o'er my soul the thoughts of distant time,
In silent waves, like billows from the sea,
Come rolling on and on, with ceaseless flow,
Innumerable. Thou mayest have sprung unsown
Into thy noon of life, when first earth heard
Its Maker's sovereign voice; and laughing flowers
Waved o'er the meadows, hung on the mountain crags,
And nodded in the breeze on every hill.
Thou may'st have bloomed unseen, save by the stars
That sang together o'er thy rosy birth,
And came at eve to watch thy folded rest.
None may have sought thee in thy fragrant home,
Save light-voiced winds, that round thy dwelling played,
Or seemed to sigh, oft as their wingéd haste
Compelled their feet to roam. Thou may'st have lived
Beneath the light of later days, when man,
With feet free-roving as the homeless wind,
Scaled the thick-mantled height, coursed plains unshorn,
Breaking the solitude of nature's haunts
With voice that seemed to blend, in one sweet strain,
The mingled music of the elements.
And when against his infant frame they rose,
Uncurb'd, unawed by his yet feeble hand,
And when the muttering storm, and shouting wave,
And rattling thunder, mated, round him raged,
And seemed at times like demon foes to gird,
Thou may'st have won with gentle look his heart,
And stirred the first warm prayer of gratitude,
And been his first, his simplest altar-gift.
For thee, dark flower! the kindling sun can bring
No more the colors that it gave, nor morn,
With kindly kiss, restore thy breathing sweets:
Yet may the mind's mysterious touch recall
The bloom and fragrance of thy early prime:
For he who to the lowly lily gave
A glory richer than to proudest king,
He painted not those darkly-shining leaves,
With blushes like the dawn, in vain; nor gave
To thee its sweetly-scented breath, to waste
Upon the barren air. E'en though thou stood
Alone in nature's forest-home untrod,
The first-love of the stars and sighing winds,
The mineral holds with faithful trust thy form,
To wake in human hearts sweet thoughts of love,
Now the dark past hangs round thy memory.

The April Snow

It will not stay! the robe so pearly white,
Which fell in folds on nature's bosom bare,
And sparkled in the winter moonbeams' light,
A vesture such as sainted spirits wear;
It will not stay! Look, from the open plain,
It melts beneath the glance of April's sun;
Nor can the rock's cool shade the snow detain,
It feeds the brooks, which down the hill-side run.
Why should it linger? Many-tinted flowers
And the green grass its place will quickly fill,
And, with new life, from sun and kindly showers,
With beauty deck the meadow and the hill;
Till we regret to see the earth resume
This snowy mantle for her robe of bloom.

Nature

Nature, my love for thee is deeper far
Than strength of words though spirit-born can tell;
For while I gaze they seem my soul to bar,
That in thy widening streams would onward swell
Bearing thy mirrored beauty on my breast;
Now through thy lonely haunts unseen to glide,
A motion that scarce knows itself from rest,
With pictured flowers and branches on its tide;
Then by the noisy city's frowning wall,
Whose armed heights within its waters gleam,
To rush with answering voice to ocean's call
And mingle with the deep its swoln stream;
Whose boundless bosom's calm alone can hold
That heaven of glory in thy skies unrolled.

An Evening Walk

Beauty

I gazed upon thy face—and beating life,
Once stilled its sleepless pulses in my breast,
And every thought whose being was a strife
Each in its silent chamber sank to rest;
I was not, save it were a thought of thee,
The world was but a spot where thou hadst trod,
From every star thy glance seemed fixed on me,
Almost I loved thee better than my God.
And still I gaze—but 'tis a holier thought
Than that in which my spirit lived before,
Each star a purer ray of love has caught,
Earth wears a lovelier robe than then it wore,
And every lamp that burns around thy shrine
Is fed with fire whose fountain is Divine.

The Voice of God

The Wind-Flower

Thou lookest up with meek, confiding eye
Upon the clouded smile of April's face,
Unharmed, though Winter stands uncertain by,
Eyeing with jealous glance each opening grace.
Thou trustest wisely! in thy faith arrayed,
More glorious thou than Israel's wisest King;
Such faith was his, whom men to death betrayed;
As thine who hear'st the timid voice of Spring,
While other flowers still hide them from her call,
Along the river's brink, and meadow bare;
Thee will I seek beside the stony wall,
And in thy trust with childlike heart would share,
O'erjoyed, that in thy early leaves I find
A lesson taught by Him, who loved all human kind.

The Sabbatia

The sweet briar rose has not a form more fair,
Nor are its hues more beauteous than thine own,
Sabbatia, flower most beautiful and rare!
In lonely spots blooming unseen, unknown.
So spiritual thy look, thy stem so light,
Thou seemest not from the dark earth to grow;
But to belong to heavenly regions bright,
Where night comes not, nor blasts of winter blow.
To me thou art a pure, ideal flower,
So delicate that mortal touch might mar;
Not born, like other flowers, of sun and shower,
But wandering from thy native home afar
To lead our thoughts to some serener clime,
Beyond the shadows and the storms of time.

The Passage Bird

A Sonnet

Thy beauty fades and with it too my love,
For 'twas the self-same stalk that bore its flower;
Soft fell the rain, and breaking from above
The sun looked out upon our nuptial hour;
And I had thought forever by thy side
With bursting buds of hope in youth to dwell,
But one by one Time strewed thy petals wide,
And every hope's wan look a grief can tell:
For I had thoughtless lived beneath his sway,
Who like a tyrant dealeth with us all,
Crowning each rose, though rooted on decay,
With charms that shall the spirit's love enthral,
And for a season turn the soul's pure eyes
From virtue's changeless bloom that time and death defies.

The Columbine

Still, still my eye will gaze long-fixed on thee,
Till I forget that I am called a man,
And at thy side fast-rooted seem to be,
And the breeze comes my cheek with thine to fan;
Upon this craggy hill our life shall pass,
A life of summer days and summer joys,
Nodding our honey bells mid pliant grass
In which the bee half hid his time employs;
And here we'll drink with thirsty pores the rain,
And turn dew-sprinkled to the rising sun,
And look when in the flaming west again
His orb across the heaven its path has run;
Here, left in darkness on the rocky steep,
My weary eyes shall close like folding flowers in sleep.

The Robin

Thou needst not flutter from thy half-built nest
Whene'er thou hearst man's hurrying feet go by—;
Fearing his eye for harm may on thee rest,
Or he thy young's unfinished cottage spy;
All will not heed thee on that swinging bough,
Nor care that round thy shelter spring the leaves,
Nor watch thee on the pool's wet margin now
For clay to plaster straws thy cunning weaves;
All will not hear thy sweet out-pouring joy,
That with morn's stillness blends the voice of song;
For over-anxious cares their souls employ,
That else upon thy music borne along
And the light wings of heart-ascending prayer
Had learned that Heaven is pleased thy simple joys to share.

Hymn

The Stranger's Gift

I found far culled from fragrant field and grove
Each flower that makes our Spring a welcome guest,
In one sweet bond of brotherhood inwove
An ozier band their leafy stalks compressed;
A stranger's hand had made their bloom my own,
And fresh their fragrance rested on the air,
His gift was mine—but he who gave unknown,
And my heart sorrowed though the flowers were fair:
Now oft I grieve to meet them on the lawn,
Scattered along the path I love to go,
By One who on their petals paints the dawn,
And gilt with sunset splendors bids them glow,
For I ne'er asked ‘who steeps them in perfume?’
Nor anxious sought His love who crowns them all with bloom!

The New Birth

'Tis a new life—thoughts move not as they did
With slow uncertain steps across my mind,
In thronging haste fast pressing on they bid
The portals open to the viewless wind;
That comes not, save when in the dust is laid
The crown of pride that gilds each mortal brow,
And from before man's vision melting fade
The heavens and earth—Their walls are falling now—
Fast crowding on each thought claims utterance strong,
Storm-lifted waves swift rushing to the shore
On from the sea they send their shouts along,
Back through the cave-worn rocks their thunders roar,
And I a child of God by Christ made free
Start from death's slumbers to eternity.

The Journey

To tell my journeys where I daily walk,
These words thou hearst me use were given me;
Give heed then, when with thee my soul would talk,
That thou the path of peace it goes may see;—
I know no where to turn, each step is new;
No wish before me flies to point the way,
But on I travel with no end in view,
Save that from Him who leads I never stray;
He knows it all; the turning of the road,
Where this man lives, and that, He knows it well;
And finds for me at night a safe abode,
Though I all houseless know not where to dwell;
And canst thou tell then where my journeying lies?
If so thou tread'st with me the same blue skies.

“In Him we live, & move, & have our being”

Father! I bless thy name that I do live
And in each motion am made rich with thee
That when a glance is all that I can give
It is a kingdom's wealth, if I but see;
This stately body cannot move, save I
Will to its nobleness my little bring,
My voice its measured cadence will not try
Save I with every note consent to sing;
I cannot raise my hands to hurt or bless
But I with every action must conspire;
To show me there how little I possess
And yet that little more than I desire;
May each new act my new allegiance prove
Till in thy perfect love I ever live & move.

Enoch

I looked to find a man who walked with God,
Like the translated patriarch of old;—
Though gladdened millions on his footstool trod,
Yet none with him did such sweet converse hold;
I heard the wind in low complaint go by
That none his melodies like him could hear;
Day unto day spoke wisdom from on high,
Yet none like David turned a willing ear;
God walked alone unhonored through the earth;
For him no heart-built temple open stood,
The soul forgetful of her nobler birth
Had hewn him lofty shrines of stone and wood,
And left unfinished and in ruins still
The only temple he delights to fill.

The Son

Father! I wait thy word—the sun doth stand,
Beneath the mingling line of night and day,
A listening servant waiting thy command
To roll rejoycing on its silent way;
The tongue of time abides the appointed hour,
Till on our ear its solemn warnings fall;
The heavy cloud withholds the pelting shower,
Then every drop speeds onward at thy call;
The bird reposes on the yielding bough
With breast unswollen by the tide of song;
So does my spirit wait thy presence now
To pour thy praise in quickening life along
Chiding with voice divine man's lengthened sleep,
While round the Unuttered Word and Love their vigils keep.

Love

I asked of Time to tell me where was Love;
He pointed to her foot-steps on the snow,
Where first the angel lighted from above,
And bid me note the way and onward go;
Through populous streets of cities spreading wide,
By lonely cottage rising on the moor,
Where bursts from sundered cliff the struggling tide,
To where it hails the sea with answering roar,
She led me on; o'er mountains' frozen head,
Where mile on mile still stretches on the plain,
Then homeward whither first my feet she led
I traced her path along the snow again,
But there the sun had melted from the earth
The prints where first she trod, a child of mortal birth.

Day

Day I lament that none can hymn thy praise
In fitting strains, of all thy riches bless;
Though thousands sport them in thy golden rays
Yet none like thee their Maker's name confess;
Great fellow of my being! woke with me
Thou dost put on thy dazzling robes of light,
And onward from the east go forth to free
Thy children from the bondage of the night;
I hail thee, pilgrim! on thy lonely way,
Whose looks on all alike benignant shine;
A child of light, like thee, I cannot stay,
But on the world I bless must soon decline,
Nor leave one ray to cheer the darkening mind
That will not in the word of God its dayspring find.

Night

I thank thee, Father, that the night is near
When I this conscious being may resign;
Whose only task thy words of love to hear,
And in thy acts to find each act of mine;
A task too great to give a child like me,
Thy myriad-handed labors of the day
Too many for my closing eyes to see,
Thy words too frequent for my tongue to say;
Yet when thou see'st me burthened by thy love
Each other gift more lovely then appears,
For dark-robed night comes hovering from above
And all thine other gifts to me endears;
And while within her darkened couch I sleep,
Thine eyes untired above will constant vigils keep.

The Coming

The day begins—it comes—the appointed day!
No trumpet sounds, no shouts proclaim its birth;
Yet brighter still, and brighter beams its ray
Upon the mourning tribes that fill the earth.
He comes! The Son of Man is glorified!
Crowned with his Father's glory he appears;
And they that scorned, and they that pierced his side,
Before him bow their faces wet with tears.
He comes! his peace, his promised peace to give,
In robes of righteousness to clothe the poor;
And bid them ever in his presence live,
Heirs of the Kingdom that must aye endure;
Priests, born to lead the long lost tribes of men
Back to the fold of God in joy again.

The Morning Watch

'Tis near the morning watch, the dim lamp burns
But scarcely shows how dark the slumbering street;
No sound of life the silent mart returns;
No friends from house to house their neighbors greet;
It is the sleep of death; a deeper sleep
Than e'er before on mortal eyelids fell;
No stars above the gloom their places keep;
No faithful watchmen of the morning tell;
Yet still they slumber on, though rising day
Hath through their windows poured the awakening light;
Or, turning in their sluggard trances, say—
“There yet are many hours to fill the night;”
They rise not yet; while on the bridegroom goes
'Till he the day's bright gates forever on them close!

The Weary and Heavy Laden

Rejoice ye weary! ye whose spirits mourn!
There is a rest that shall not be removed;
Press on and reach within the heavenly bourn,
By Christ the king of your salvation proved;
There is a rest! Rejoice ye silent stars,
Roll on no more all voiceless on your way;
Thou Sun! no more dark clouds thy triumph mars,
Speak thou to every land the coming day:
It comes! bid every harp and timbrel sound;
Bring forth the fatted calf; make merry all;
For this the son was lost, and he is found;
Was dead, and yet has heard his Savior's call;
And comes within to drink the new made wine,
And as a branch abide forever in the Vine.

The Garden

I saw the spot where our first parents dwelt;
And yet it wore to me no face of change,
For while amid its fields and groves I felt
As if I had not sinned, nor thought it strange;
My eye seemed but a part of every sight,
My ear heard music in each sound that rose,
Each sense forever found a new delight,
Such as the spirit's vision only knows;
Each act some new and ever-varying joy
Did by my Father's love for me prepare;
To dress the spot my ever fresh employ,
And in the glorious whole with Him to share;
No more without the flaming gate to stray,
No more for sin's dark stain the debt of death to pay.

The Song

When I would sing of crooked streams and fields,
On, on from me they stretch too far and wide,
And at their look my song all powerless yields,
And down the river bears me with its tide;
Amid the fields I am a child again,
The spots that then I loved I love the more,
My fingers drop the strangely-scrawling pen,
And I remember nought but nature's lore;
I plunge me in the river's cooling wave,
Or on the embroidered bank admiring lean,
Now some endangered insect life to save,
Now watch the pictured flowers and grasses green;
Forever playing where a boy I played,
By hill and grove, by field and stream delayed.

The Spirit Land

Father! thy wonders do not singly stand,
Nor far removed where feet have seldom strayed;
Around us ever lies the enchanted land
In marvels rich to thine own sons displayed;
In finding thee are all things round us found;
In losing thee are all things lost beside;
Ears have we but in vain strange voices sound,
And to our eyes the vision is denied;
We wander in the country far remote,
Mid tombs and ruined piles in death to dwell;
Or on the records of past greatness dote,
And for a buried soul the living sell;
While on our path bewildered falls the night
That ne'er returns us to the fields of light.

The Slave

I saw him forging link by link his chain,
Yet while he felt its length he thought him free,
And sighed for those borne o'er the barren main
To bondage that to his would freedom be;
Yet on he walked with eyes far-gazing still
On wrongs that from his own dark bosom flowed,
And while he thought to do his master's will
He but the more his disobedience showed;
I heard a wild rose by the stony wall,
Whose fragrance reached me in the passing gale,
A lesson give—it gave alike to all—
And I repeat the moral of its tale,
“That from the spot where deep its dark roots grew
Bloomed forth the fragrant rose that all delight to view.”

The Bread from Heaven

Long do we live upon the husks of corn,
While 'neath untasted lie the kernels still,
Heirs of the kingdom, but in Christ unborn,
Fain with swine's food would we our hunger fill;
We eat but 'tis not of the bread from heaven;
We drink but 'tis not from the stream of life;
Our swelling actions want the little leaven
To make them with the sighed-for blessing rife;
We wait unhappy on a stranger's board,
While we the master's friend by right should live,
Enjoy with him the fruits our labors stored,
And to the poor with him the pittance give;
No more to want, the long expected heir
With Christ the Father's love for evermore to share.

The Latter Rain

The latter rain, it falls in anxious haste
Upon the sun-dried fields and branches bare,
Loosening with searching drops the rigid waste
As if it would each root's lost strength repair;
But not a blade grows green as in the spring,
No swelling twig puts forth its thickening leaves;
The robins only mid the harvests sing
Pecking the grain that scatters from the sheaves;
The rain falls still—the fruit all ripened drops,
It pierces chestnut burr and walnut shell,
The furrowed fields disclose the yellow crops,
Each bursting pod of talents used can tell,
And all that once received the early rain
Declare to man it was not sent in vain.

The Word

The Word! it cannot fail; it ever speaks;
Unheard by all save by the sons of heaven,
It waits, while time counts on the appointed weeks,
The purpose to fulfill for which 'twas given;
Unchangeable its ever-fixed command;
When human feet would from its precepts stray
It points their pathway with its flaming hand,
And bids them keep the strait and narrow way;
And when by its unerring counsels led
The child would seek again his Father's face,
Upon its stores of heavenly manna fed
He gains at length through grief his resting place;
And hears its praise from angels' countless throng,
And joins forever in the new-raised song.

Worship

There is no worship now—the idol stands
Within the spirit's holy resting place;
Millions before it bend with upraised hands,
And with their gifts God's purer shrine disgrace;
The prophet walks unhonored mid the crowd
That to the idol's temple daily throng;
His voice unheard above their voices loud,
His strength too feeble 'gainst the torrent strong;
But there are bounds that ocean's rage can stay
When wave on wave rush madly to the shore;
And soon the prophet's word shall men obey,
And hushed to peace the billows cease to roar;
For he who spoke—and warring winds keep peace,
Commands again—and man's wild passions cease.

The Living God

There is no death with Thee! each plant and tree
In living haste their stems push onward still,
The pointed blade, each rooted trunk we see
In various movement all attest thy will;
The vine must die when its long race is run,
The tree must fall when it no more can rise;
The worm has at its root his task begun,
And hour by hour his steady labor plies;
Nor man can pause but in thy will must grow,
And, as his roots within more deep extend,
He shall o'er sons of sons his branches throw,
And to the latest born his shadows lend;
Nor know in thee disease nor length of days,
But lift his head forever in thy praise.

Time

There is no moment but whose flight doth bring
Bright clouds and fluttering leaves to deck my bower,
And I within like some sweet bird must sing
To tell the story of the passing hour;
For time has secrets that no bird has sung,
Nor changing leaf with changing season told;
But waits the utterance of some nobler tongue,
Like that which spoke in prophet tones of old;
Then day and night and month and year shall tell
The tale that speaks but faint from bird and bough;
In spirit songs their praise shall upward swell,
Nor longer pass heaven's gate unheard as now;
But cause e'en angels' ears to catch the strain,
And send it back to earth in joy again.

The Violet

Thou tellest truths unspoken yet by man
By this thy lonely home and modest look;
For he has not the eyes such truths to scan,
Nor learns to read from such a lowly book;
With him it is not life firm-fixed to grow
Beneath the outspreading oaks and rising pines,
Content this humble lot of thine to know,
The nearest neighbor of the creeping vines;
Without fixed root he cannot trust like thee
The rain will know the appointed hour to fall,
But fears lest sun or shower may hurtful be,
And would delay or speed them with his call;
Nor trust like thee when wintry winds blow cold,
Whose shrinking form the withered leaves enfold.

The Heart

There is a cup of sweet or bitter drink,
Whose waters ever o'er the brim must well,
Whence flow pure thoughts of love as angels think,
Or of its daemon depths the tongue will tell;
That cup can ne'er be cleansed from outward stains
While from within the tide forever flows;
And soon it wearies out the fruitless pains
The treacherous hand on such a task bestows;
But ever bright its crystal sides appear,
While runs the current from its outlet pure;
And pilgrims hail its sparkling waters near,
And stoop to drink the healing fountain sure,
And bless the cup that cheers their fainting soul
While through this parching waste they seek their heavenly goal.

The Trees of Life

For those who worship Thee there is no death,
For all they do is but with Thee to dwell;
Now while I take from Thee this passing breath,
It is but of thy glorious name to tell;
Nor words nor measured sounds have I to find,
But in them both my soul doth ever flow;
They come as viewless as the unseen wind,
And tell thy noiseless steps where'er I go;
The trees that grow along thy living stream,
And from its springs refreshment ever drink,
Forever glittering in thy morning beam
They bend them o'er the river's grassy brink,
And as more high and wide their branches grow
They look more fair within the depths below.

The Soldier of the Cross

He was not armed like those of eastern clime,
Whose heavy axes felled their heathen foe;
Nor was he clad like those of later time,
Whose breast-worn cross betrayed no cross below;
Nor was he of the tribe of Levi born,
Whose pompous rites proclaim how vain their prayer;
Whose chilling words are heard at night and morn,
Who rend their robes but still their hearts would spare;
But he nor steel nor sacred robe had on,
Yet went he forth in God's almighty power;
He spoke the word whose will is ever done
From day's first dawn till earth's remotest hour;
And mountains melted from his presence down,
And hell affrighted fled before his frown.

The Spirit

I would not breathe, when blows thy mighty wind
O'er desolate hill and winter-blasted plain,
But stand in waiting hope if I may find
Each flower recalled to newer life again;
That now unsightly hide themselves from Thee,
Amid the leaves or rustling grasses dry,
With ice-cased rock and snowy-mantled tree
Ashamed lest Thou their nakedness should spy;
But Thou shalt breathe and every rattling bough
Shall gather leaves; each rock with rivers flow;
And they that hide them from thy presence now
In new found robes along thy path shall glow,
And meadows at thy coming fall and rise,
Their green waves sprinkled with a thousand eyes.

The Serpent

They knew that they were naked, and ashamed
From Him who formed them stole themselves away,
And when He spoke they each the other blamed,
And death speaks living in each word they say;
The serpent grows, a liar born within,
Self-slaughter speaks in every uttered word,
And earth is filled with temples built in sin,
Where the foul tempter's praise is sung and heard;
But soon the truth shall gain the listening ear,
And from the lips in sacred utterance speak,
And weary souls of Christ's own word shall hear,
And in the living bread salvation seek,
And Satan's reign on earth forever cease,
And the new dawn begin of the eternal peace.

The Dead

I see them crowd on crowd they walk the earth
Dry, leafless trees no Autumn wind laid bare;
And in their nakedness find cause for mirth,
And all unclad would winter's rudeness dare;
No sap doth through their clattering branches flow,
Whence springing leaves and blossoms bright appear;
Their hearts the living God have ceased to know,
Who gives the spring time to th'expectant year;
They mimic life, as if from him to steal
His glow of health to paint the livid cheek;
They borrow words for thoughts they cannot feel,
That with a seeming heart their tongue may speak;
And in their show of life more dead they live
Than those that to the earth with many tears they give.

The Presence

I sit within my room and joy to find
That Thou who always loves art with me here,
That I am never left by Thee behind,
But by Thyself Thou keepst me ever near;
The fire burns brighter when with Thee I look,
And seems a kinder servant sent to me;
With gladder heart I read thy holy book,
Because Thou art the eyes by which I see;
This aged chair, that table, watch, and door
Around in ready service ever wait;
Nor can I ask of Thee a menial more
To fill the measure of my large estate,
For Thou Thyself, with all a Father's care,
Where'er I turn, art ever with me there.

The Lost

They wander, straggling sheep without a fold,
Called here and there by falsely-guiding cries;
No hands from them the slaughtering wolves withhold,
But one by one each hireling shepherd flies;
They wander on, but not a blade of green
Blesses the sight along the scorching sand;
No spring-fed stream with living voice is seen
Still gliding on companion of their band;
But soon their weary pilgrimage shall close,
And the good shepherd guide their feet in peace;
For all its paths his eye experienced knows,
And at each step their joys in him increase,
Till welcomed there where he in honor reigns
He at his Father's board each faithful son sustains.

The Robe

Each naked branch, the yellow leaf or brown,
The rugged rock, and death-deformed plain
Lies white beneath the winter's feathery down,
Nor doth a spot unsightly now remain;
On sheltering roof, on man himself it falls;
But him no robe, not spotless snow makes clean;
For 'neath his corse-like spirit ever calls,
That on it too may fall the heavenly screen;
But all in vain, its guilt can never hide
From the quick spirit's heart-deep searching eye,
There barren plains, and caverns yawning wide
Must e'er lay naked to the passer by;
Nor can one thought deformed its presence shun,
But to the spirit's gaze stands bright as in the sun.

The Will

Help me in Christ to learn to do Thy will,
That I may have from him eternal life;
And here on earth thy perfect love fulfill,
Then home return victorious from the strife;
This war in heaven must every foe cast down,
And bruise the serpent's star-exalted pride;
And gain for me the lyre and martyr-crown
To all who love the praise of men denied;
To do thy will shall bring that day of rest,
When none can work save those who work with Thee;
And in thy labors evermore are blest,
From death and sin through Christ forever free;
Beloved by Thee thy children to remain,
Made priests, and kings, and heirs of thy domain.

The War

I saw a war yet none the trumpet blew,
Nor in their hands the steel-wrought weapons bare;
And in that conflict armed there fought but few,
And none that in the world's loud tumults share;
They fought against their wills, the stubborn foe
That mail-clad warriors left unfought within;
And wordy champions leave unslain below,
The ravening wolf though drest in fleecy skin;
They fought for peace; not that the world can give,
Whose tongue proclaims the war its hands have ceased;
And bids us as each other's neighbour live,
When John within our breasts has not decreased;
They fought for him whose kingdom must increase
Good will to men, on earth forever peace.

Life

It is not life upon Thy gifts to live,
But still with deeper roots grow fixed in Thee;
And when the sun and shower their bounties give
To send out thick-leaved limbs; a fruitful tree,
Whose green head meets the eye for many a mile,
Where moss-grown trunks their rigid branches rear,
And full-faced fruit their blushing welcome smile
As to its goodly shade our feet draw near;
Who tastes its gifts shall never hunger more,
For 'tis the Father spreads the pure repast,
Who while we eat renews the ready store,
That at his bounteous board must ever last;
For none the bridegroom's supper shall attend,
Who will not hear and make his word their friend.

The Reaper

There are no reapers in the whitening fields,
But many preying on the ripening ears
Forever scatter all the harvest yields,
Planted with toil and wet with many tears;
Eagles they are that on the carcase feed,
Not gather with the hand that plants the grain;
With ravening beak they tear the hearts that bleed,
And with their talons aggravate the pain;
But soon the Husbandman his heirs shall send,
Who from the tares shall cull the heavy wheat;
Then from the heaven the son too shall descend,
And with his welcome every laborer greet,
And give the weary ones his peace, his rest,
And to the feast invite each ransomed soul, a guest.

Simmons Mobile Alabama

O may I see thy face for without thee
The day returns but round no brightness pours
The light returns I see thy face again—

Winter

There is a winter in the godless heart
More cold than that which creeps upon the year
That will not with the opening spring depart
But freezes on though summer's heats are near
Its blasts are words that chill the loving soul
Though heard in pleasing phrase or learned sound
Their killing breath nor thriple folds control
They pierce within though flesh & blood surround
How dead the heart whence drives the arrowy shower
The full blown rose hangs drooping at its breath
The bursting buds of promise feel its power
And fixed stand incased in icy death
And e'en the soul which Christ's warm tears fill
Its sleety accents falling thick can chill.

John

What went ye out to see? a shaken reed?
In him whose voice proclaims “prepare the way”;
Behold the oak that stormy centuries feed!
Though but the buried acorn of my day;
What went ye out to see? a kingly man?
In the soft garments clothed that ye have worn;
Behold a servant whom the hot suns tan,
His raiment from the rough-haired camel torn!
Ye seek ye know not what; blind children all,
Who each his idle fancy will demand;
Nor heed my true-sent prophet's warning call,
That you may learn of me the new command;
And see the Light that cometh down from heaven,
Repent! and see, while yet its light is given.

The Flight

Come forth, come forth my people from the place
Where ye have lived so many days secure;
I will destroy within the wicked race,
Their walls of brass and stone shall not endure;
They fall! escape! flee fast! the foe is near!
Stop not to take your clothes! escape for life!
Be wise, and of my love-sent message hear!
For swift descends the day with sorrows rife,
Escape! the word is near you in your heart;
Obey within, and make my pathway strait;
Hasten! from all your sinful ways depart,
And enter through the strait and narrow gate;
Be warned and flee, the morning watch is spent,
And but a moment for your flight is lent.

The Priest

Grant me forever of thy word to hear,
And live by that which ever speaks from heaven;
That gives the love that knows not of a fear,
For by the gift is every sin forgiven;
Then shall I be, by him who leads me on,
A priest to still the people's wave-tost breast;
And when the storm of passion's wrath is gone
Conduct them to the haven of their rest;
Then shall my master hail me as his friend;
The friend of all the weary ones and poor,
And when I faint, his promised peace shall send;
In every wound pour oil and wine to cure;
Still beckoning on, till in his Father's peace
He bids my toil and pain forever cease.

The Resurrection

The dead! the dead! they throw their grave clothes by,
And burst the prisons where they long have lain;
I hear them send their shouts of triumph high,
For he the king of terrors now is slain;
I see them; see! the dumb have found a voice;
The lame are leaping where they crawled before;
The blind with eyes of wonder see rejoice;
The deaf stand listening to the glad uproar;
Look! each the other as a brother sees;
Hark! each the other welcomes to his home;
There are no tones of chilling breath to freeze,
No tears are dropt, no sufferers here can moan;
The joy of love o'er every feature plays,
And every new-born child rejoices in its rays.

My Father's House

My Father's house, I find no entrance there;
But those who buy and sell block up the way,
And that which should be called “the house of prayer,”
Is filled with those whose spirits never pray;
Father! accept my prayer that they may see,
Nor in thy presence dwell by Thee unknown;
Open their eyes that they may look on Thee,
And all thy love for disobedience own;
Be this the heaviest scourge to drive them hence,
And may thy word with gentle force persuade;
I need no sword but this for my defence,
It speaks; and by the dead shall be obeyed;
And thy new temple from pollution freed
Be filled by those who love in truth and deed.

The Servant

The servant Thou hast called stands ready shod,
Clean through thy holy word, in Christ made free,
To smite the nations with an iron rod,
That haply they may turn and worship Thee;—
Their broken idols own thy spirit's power;
The strong men bow, and at its word lie bound;
The lying spirits start to hear the hour
Through all their depths its solemn warning sound;
Nor horse nor chariot now avail for flight,
Thy hand is on the courser's flowing rein;
The night unrobed stands guilty in thy sight,
And for a covering pleads, but pleads in vain;—
Through all that waits thy servant bid him stand,
And by thy love supported gain the promised land.

I Was Sick And In Prison

Thou hast not left the rough-barked tree to grow
Without a mate upon the river's bank;
Nor dost Thou on one flower the rain bestow,
But many a cup the glittering drops have drank;
The bird must sing to one who sings again,
Else would her note less welcome be to hear;
Nor hast Thou bid thy word descend in vain,
But soon some answering voice shall reach my ear;
Then shall the brotherhood of peace begin,
And the new song be raised that never dies;
That shall the soul from death and darkness win,
And burst the prison where the captive lies;
And one by one new-born shall join the strain,
Till earth restores her sons to heaven again.

He Was Acquainted With Grief

I cannot tell the sorrows that I feel
By the night's darkness, by the prison's gloom;
There is no sight that can the death reveal,
The spirit suffers in earth's living tomb;
There is no sound of grief that mourners raise,
No moaning of the wind, or dirge-like sea;
Nor hymns though prophet tones inspire the lays,
That can the spirit's grief awake in thee;
Thou too must suffer as it suffers here,
The death in Christ to know the Father's love;
Then in the strains that angels love to hear,
Thou too shalt hear the spirit's song above;
And learn in grief what these can never tell,
A note too deep for earthly voice to swell.

The Fragments

I would weigh out my love with nicest care,
Each moment shall make large the sum I give,
That all who want may find yet some to share;
And bless the crumb of bread that helps them live;
Of thy rich stores how much has wasted been,
Of all Thou giv'st me daily to divide;
I will in future count it for my sin,
If e'en a morsel from the poor I hide;
Help me to give them all Thou giv'st to me,
That I a faithful steward may be found;
That I may give a good account to Thee,
Of all the seed Thou sowest in my ground;
That nought of all Thou givest may remain,
That can a hungry soul in life sustain.

The Winter Rain

The rain comes down, it comes without our call;
Each pattering drop knows well its destined place,
And soon the fields whereon the blessings fall,
Shall change their frosty look for Spring's sweet face;
So fall the words thy Holy Spirit sends,
Upon the heart where Winter's robe is flung;
They shall go forth as certain of their ends,
As the wet drops from out thy vapors wrung;
Spring will not tarry, though more late its rose
Shall bud and bloom upon the sinful heart;
Yet when it buds, forever there it blows,
And hears no Winter bid its bloom depart;
It strengthens with his storms, and grows more bright,
When o'er the earth is cast his mantle white.

Forbearance

The senseless drops can feel no pain, as they
In ceaseless measure strike the barren ground;
But o'er its trodden surface constant play,
Without a pang that there no life is found;
Yet oft the word must fall on stony fields,
And where the weeds have shot their rankness high;
And nought the seed to him who sows it yields,
But bitter tears and the half-uttered sigh;
But these are rife with precious stores of love,
For him who bears them daily in his breast;
For so the Father bids him hence remove,
And so attain His everlasting rest;
For thus He bore with thee when thou wast blind,
And so He bids thee bear wouldst thou his presence find.

The Wolf and the Lamb Shall Feed Together

The wolf, why heeds he not the sportive lamb,
But lies at rest beside him on the plain?
The lion feeds beside the browsing ram,
The tyger's rage is curbed without a chain;
The year of peace has on the earth begun!
And see ye not bestowed the promised sign,
The prophets by the spirit moved have sung,
To close the world's long strife with day benign?
Look not abroad, it comes not with the eye;
Nor can the ear its welcome tidings hear;
Nor seek ye Christ below, nor yet on high,
Behold the Word to thee is also near;
E'en at thy heart it speaks, Repent! Obey!
And thine eye too shall hail the rising day.

The Rail Road

Thou great proclaimer to the outward eye,
Of what the spirit too would seek to tell,
Onward thou go'st, appointed from on high
The other warnings of the Lord to swell;
Thou art the voice of one that through the world
Proclaims in startling tones, “prepare the way;”
The lofty mountain from its seat is hurled,
The flinty rocks thine onward march obey;
The valleys lifted from their lowly bed
O'ertop the hills that on them frowned before,
Thou passest where the living seldom tread,
Through forests dark, where tides beneath thee roar,
And bidst man's dwelling from thy track remove,
And would with warning voice his crooked paths reprove.

Behold He Is at Hand That Doth Betray Me

Why come you out to me with clubs and staves,
That you on every side have fenced me so?
In every act you dig for me deep graves;
In which my feet must walk where'er I go;
You speak and in your words my death I find,
Pierced through with many sorrows to the core;
And none that will the bleeding spirit bind,
But at each touch still freer flows the gore;
But with my stripes your deep-dyed sins are healed,
For I must show my master's love for you;
The cov'nant that he made, forever sealed,
By blood is witnessed to be just and true;
And you in turn must bear the stripes I bear,
And in his sufferings learn alike to share.

The Fruit

Thou ripenest the fruits with warmer air,
That Summer brings around thy goodly trees;
And Thou wilt grant a summer to my prayer,
And fruit shall glisten from these fluttering leaves;
A fruit that shall not with the winter fail,
He knows no winter who of it shall eat;
But on it lives though outward storm assail,
Till it becomes in time his daily meat;
Then he shall in the fruit I give abound,
And hungry pilgrims hasten to the bough;
Where the true bread of life shall then be found,
Though nought they spy to give upon it now;
But pass it by, with sorrowing hearts that there
But leaves have grown where they the fruit would share.

To Him That Hath Shall Be Given

Why readest thou? thou canst not gain the life
The spirit leads, but by the spirit's toil;
The labor of the body is not strife,
Such as will give to thee the wine and oil;
To him who hath, to him my verse shall give,
And he the more from all he does shall gain;
The spirit's life he too shall learn to live,
And share on earth in hope the spirit's pain;
Be taught of God; none else can learn thee aught;
He will thy steps forever lead aright,
The life is all that He his sons has taught,
Obey within, and thou shalt see its light;
And gather from its beams a brighter ray,
To cheer thee on along thy doubtful way.

The Thorns

I cannot find thy flowers, they have not blown,
The cruel winter will not let them live;
The seed in every heart thy hand has sown,
Yet none will back to Thee the blossom give;
Their roots without the bosom daily grow,
And every branch blooms inward and unseen;
The hidden roots unsightly length they show,
And hide the limbs that thou has clothed with green;
They will not like the plants that own thy care,
The heavy laden boughs extend to all;
They will not of the flowers Thou giv'st them share,
But drink the rain that on their bosoms fall,
And nought return but prickly briar and thorn,
That from the enclosed heart thy children warn.

The River

Oh swell my bosom deeper with thy love,
That I some river's widening mouth may be;
And ever on for many a mile above
May flow the floods that enter from thy sea;
And may they not retreat as tides of earth,
Save but to show from Thee that they have flown,
Soon may my spirit find that better birth,
Where the retiring wave is never known;
But Thou dost flow through every channel wide,
With all a Father's love in every soul;
A stream that knows no ebb, a swelling tide
That rolls forever on and finds no goal,
Till in the hearts of all shall opened be
The Ocean depths of thine Eternity.

The New Jerusalem

I saw the city, 'twas not built by hands,
And nought impure can ever enter in,
'Twas built by those who keep the Lord's commands,
And in his blood have washed away their sin;
Thrice happy those who see the pearly gate
Before their earthly vision distant rise;
And keep the path though narrow still and strait
Through many a thorny hedge their journey lies;
Behold within the mansion of thy rest!
Prepared by him who in it went before,
Behold the peace that makes the spirit blest!
By him who loved thee kept for thee in store;
Press on, the crown he won shall soon be thine,
And thou amid the just a star in heaven shall shine.

The Cross

I must go on, till in my tearful line
Walks the full spirit's love as I on earth;
Till I can all Thou giv'st again resign,
And he be formed in me who gave me birth;
Wilt Thou within me bruise the serpent's heel,
That I through Christ the victory may win;
Then shall the peace the blessed in him must feel,
Within my bosom here on earth begin;
Help me to grasp through him eternal life,
That must by conflict here by me be wrought;
With all his faith still aid me in the strife,
Till I through blood like him the prize have bought;
And I shall hang upon the accursed tree,
Pierced through with many spears that all may see.

Nature

Nature would speak through her first master man,
He will not heed her kindly calling voice;
He does not call her name as he began,
For in his Maker he cannot rejoice;
Yet still she woos him back with many a call,
That e'en his nature finds it hard to spurn;
And would surrender to his asking all
That now with anxious toil he scarce can earn;
She pleads, but pleads in vain; He will not hear,
But o'er her holds the rod his passions gave;
And thinks she will obey through coward fear,
And be like him of her own self the slave;
But ever fresh she rises 'neath his rod,
For she obeys in love her sovereign God.

Ye Gave Me No Meat

My brother, I am hungry, give me food;
Such as my Father gives me at his board;
He has for many years been to thee good,
Thou canst a morsel then to me afford;
I do not ask of thee a grain of that
Thou offerest, when I call on thee for bread;
This is not of the wine nor olive fat,
But those who eat of this like thee are dead;
I ask the love the Father has for thee,
That thou should'st give it back to me again;
This shall my soul from pangs of hunger free,
And on my parched spirit fall like rain;
Then thou wilt prove a brother to my need,
For in the cross of Christ thou too canst bleed.

Day Unto Day Uttereth Speech

I would adorn the day and give it voice,
That it should sing with praises meet for Thee;
For none but man can bid it so rejoice,
That it shall seem a joyful day to me;
Break forth ye hearts that frozen winters bind
In icy chains more strong than close the year!
Look up! the day, the day, ye suffering blind!
Ye deaf, its notes of welcome come and hear!
Bid it the joy your hearts have long supprest,
Give back to you in new awakening strains;
To rouse the sinful from their guilty rest,
And break the captive's more than iron chains;
It shall arise with healing in its beams,
And wake the nations from their lengthened dreams.

Labor and Rest

Thou needst not rest, the shining spheres are thine,
That roll perpetual on their silent way;
And thou dost breathe in me a voice divine,
That tells more sure of thine Eternal sway;
Thine the first starting of the early leaf,
The gathering green, the changing autumn hue;
To Thee the world's long years are but as brief,
As the fresh tints the spring will soon renew;
Thou needest not man's little life of years,
Save that he gather wisdom from them all;
That in thy fear he lose all other fears,
And in thy calling heed no other call;
Then shall he be thy child to know thy care,
And in thy glorious self the eternal sabbath share.

The Disciple

Thou wilt my hands employ, though others find
No work for those who praise thy name aright;
And in their worldly wisdom call them blind,
Whom Thou hast blest with thine own spirit's sight;
But while they find no work for Thee to do,
And blindly on themselves alone rely;
Thy child must suffer what Thou sufferest too,
And learn from him Thou sent e'en so to die;
Thou art my Father, Thou wilt give me aid
To bear the wrong the spirit suffers here;
Thou hast thy help upon the mighty laid,
In him I trust, nor know to want or fear;
But ever onward walk secure from sin,
For he has conquered every foe within.

The Mountain

Thou shalt the mountain move; be strong in me,
And I will pluck it from its rocky base,
And cast it headlong in the rolling sea,
And men shall seek but shall not find its place;
Be strong; thou shalt throw down the numerous host,
That rises now against thee o'er the earth;
Against thy Father's arm they shall not boast,
In sorrow shall grow dark their day of mirth;
Lift up the banner, bid the trumpets sound,
Gather ye nations on the opposing hill!
I will your wisest councils now confound,
And all your ranks with death and slaughter fill;
I come for judgment, and for victory now,
Bow down ye nations! at my footstool bow!

The Mustard Seed

Plant the small seed, the mustard grain within,
And it shall spread its limbs from shore to shore;
But first it must in smallest root begin,
And seem to yield too little for thy store;
But thou hast sparing sown, it cannot grow
When thou dost not thy field in order keep;
Wilt thou no rain or sun on it bestow,
And think a plenteous harvest thou shalt reap?
Not so the earth rewards the farmer's toil;
Not so the heart will yield its rich increase;
Wouldst thou in time partake the wine and oil,
Wouldst thou within thee find the promised peace,
Sow daily, sow within the precious seed,
And thou shalt find rich crops in time of need.

Eden

Thy service Father! wants not aught beside
The peace and joy it to thy servant brings;
By day in Christ a constant prayer t'abide,
By night to sleep beneath thy outspread wings;
To keep thy ground from thorns and poisonous weeds,
That Thou might'st sow in me the fruitful word;
Is all Thou ask'st, is all thy goodness needs,
This the command that Adam from Thee heard;
Oh may I better serve Thee, Lord! than he,
And may my garden be forever clean;
From noisome weeds, unsightly branches free,
Within it may thy Presence still be seen;
And wilt Thou speak with me forevermore,
And I forget to sin as I have sinned before.

My meat and drink

I do not need thy food, but thou dost mine;
For this will but the body's wants repair,
And soon again for meat like this 'twill pine,
And so be fed by thee with daily care;
But that which I can give thou needs but eat,
And thou shalt find it in thyself to be;
Forever formed within a living meat,
On which to feed will make thy spirit free;
Thou shalt not hunger more, for freely given
The bread on which the spirit daily feeds;
This is the bread that cometh down from heaven,
Of which who eats no other food he needs;
But this doth grow within him day by day,
Increasing more the more he takes away.

Forgive me my trespasses

Thy trespasses my heart has not forgiven,
To the full answer that my Lord would ask;
The love in him to me so freely given,
Is for my feeble strength too great a task;
Increase oh Father! swell the narrowing tide,
Till the full stream shall reach from shore to shore;
I have not yet each sinful thought denied,
Heal up for me the freshly bleeding sore,
Let me not waste the life my Savior gave,
On the vile lusts that war against the soul;
May sin in him forever find its grave,
And all my being own his just controul;
And fixed forever in his perfect law,
May I more freely from thy fountain draw.

The Star

Thou mak'st me poor that I enriched by Thee
May tell thy love to those who know it not;
And rise within thy heavens a star to be,
When they thine earthly suns have all forgot;
Grant that my light may through their darkness shine,
With increased splendour from the parent source;
A diamond fashioned by the hand divine
To hold forever on its measured course;
But I am dark as yet, but soon the light
Of thy bright morning star on me shall dawn;
Sure herald that the curtain of the night,
Forever from my orb shall be withdrawn;
And its pure beams thy rays shall ever boast,
Shining accepted mid the starry host.

The Watchman

I place thee as a watchman on a tower,
That thou mayst warn the city of the dead;
The day has come, and come the appointed hour,
When through their streets my herald's feet shall tread;
Prepare ye all my supper to attend!
I have prepared it long that you might eat;
Come in, and I will treat you as a friend,
And of the living bread shall be your meat;
Oh come, and tarry not; for yours shall be
The honored seats around your Father's board;
And you my sons, your master's face shall see,
And to my love forever be restored;
And you my promises to Abr'am given
Shall find fulfilled to all his seed in heaven.

The Prison

The prison house is full, there is no cell
But hath its prisoner laden with his chains;
And yet they live as though their life was well,
Nor of its burthening sin the soul complains;
Thou dost not see where thou hast lived so long,
The place is called the skull where thou dost tread;
Why laugh you then, why sing the sportive song,
As if you lived, and knowest not thou art dead;
Yes thou art dead; the morn breaks o'er thee now,
Where is thy Father, He who gave thee birth?
Thou art a severed limb, a barren bough,
Thou sleepest in deep caverns of the earth;
Awake! thou hast a glorious race to run,
Put on thy strength, thou hast not yet begun.

The Prophet

The Prophet speaks, the world attentive stands!
The voice that stirs the people's countless host,
Issues again the Living God's commands;
And who before the King of Kings can boast?
At his rebuke behold a thousand flee,
Their hearts the Lord hath smitten with his fear;
Bow to the Christ ye nations! bow the knee!
Repent! the kingdom of the son is near!
Deep on their souls the mighty accents fall,
Like lead that pierces through the walls of clay;
Pricked to the heart the guilty spirits call
To know of him the new, the living way;
They bow; for he can loose, and he can bind;
And in his path the promised blessing find.

The Flood

I cannot eat my bread; the people's sins
Call for a day of fasting on my soul;
For the great day of mourning now begins,
The tears of shame adown their faces roll;
Alas, can naught avert the coming gloom,
That rises in the east a midnight cloud?
No thunders burst to warn them of their doom,
No faithful watchmen raise their voices loud;
They eat, they drink, they marry still as then,
When o'er the world the flood in fury rolled,
Alas, the fire will fall upon the men,
That are to sin and death in bondage sold;
And they nor see, nor heed the coming flame,
But perish all unsuccored in their shame.

The Corrupt Tree

Fast from thine evil growing will within,
Thou hast no other fast than this to keep;
This is the root whence springs all other sin,
This sows the tares while thou art sunk in sleep;
Fast ever here, the voice must be obeyed
That bids thee for the Lord prepare the way;
Too long thine inward prayer has been delayed,
Awake, and in thy soul forever pray;
Cut down the tree that good fruit cannot bear,
Why cumbers it for years the fertile ground?
Let not a root the axe thou wieldest spare,
Till it no more within thy field be found;
Spare not, and thou shalt reap an hundred fold,
And a new tree shall rise where thou hast felled the old.

The Pure in Heart

Father, Thou wilt accept the pure in heart,
And risest early that Thou mayest them see;
And will not from them e'en at night depart,
But in thy Presence bidst them always be;
I would be holy, for 'tis written so—
The pure in heart shall see their Father's face—
So would I journeying through trial go,
And run with patience here the godly race;
That I may see at last thy children pure,
In that blest home where all is peace and love;
Where Thou wilt make thy promise to me sure,
That I may dwell with Christ and Thee above;
Where nought impure can ever enter in,
Oh may that peace on earth e'en now begin!

The Complaint

It does my heart with deepest sorrow fill,
That I no more thy praises can proclaim;
To check the mighty tide of human ill,
And bid thine offspring glorify thy name;
By night and day my failings I lament,
That draw me back from my full stature high;
I cannot be with this cold love content,
But must in Christ with nobler ardor try
To be whate'er his full command requires;
To show Thee, Father, by my borrowed light,
And kindle up, amid the sinking fires,
A sun to fill the darkness of the night;
With rays from thine own glory ever thrown,
That has from age to age on all thy children shone.

Whither shall I go from thy Spirit

Where would I go from Thee? Thou lov'st me here
With love the heaven of heavens cannot contain;
Where can I go where Thou wilt not be near,
Who doth from hour to hour my life sustain?
I cannot leave Thee; Thou dost call me up,
When the first blush of morn is on the sky;
Thou mak'st my noon, at even bid'st me sup,
And when I sleep I know that Thou art nigh;
And what then can I want O Lord, but Thee?
Thy word shall be henceforth my daily bread,
From every other want it makes me free;
I will for it my heart wide open spread;
Till it shall enter there, and there abide,
And cleanse thy temple with its healing tide.

The First shall be Last

Bring forth, bring forth your silver! it shall be
But as the dust that meets the passing eye;
You shall from all your idols break, be free!
And worship Him whose ear can hear your cry;
Thou who hast hid within thy learned pelf,
Thou who hast loved another wife than Me,
Bring forth thine idols, they are born of self;
And to thy Maker bow the willing knee;
Each secret thing must now be brought to light,
Make haste, the day breaks on your hidden spoil;
Go, buy what then will give your soul delight,
That day can never hurt the wine and oil;
Make haste, the bridegroom knocks, he's at the door;
The first must now be last, the last the first before.

The Laborer

Father, I thank Thee that the day begins,
And I within thy vineyard too am sent;
That I may struggle on against my sins,
And seek to double what to me is lent;
Thou chast'nest me with false upbraiding word;
From many a heart I'm rudely thrust away;
That has not of the man of sorrows heard,
Nor at thy inner temple learned to pray;
Yet so the peace of Christ Thou mak'st me know,
And in his sufferings rise at last to Thee;
From glory on to glory still to go,
Till I in him from all that binds me free
Have fought the fight, the life Thou giv'st laid down,
And at his hand received the robe and kingly crown.

Thy Brother's Blood

I have no Brother—they who meet me now
Offer a hand with their own wills defiled,
And while they wear a smooth unwrinkled brow
Know not that Truth can never be beguiled;
Go wash the hand that still betrays thy guilt;
Before the spirit's gaze what stain can hide?
Abel's red blood upon the earth is spilt,
And by thy tongue it cannot be denied;
I hear not with the ear—the heart doth tell
Its secret deeds to me untold before;
Go, all its hidden plunder quickly sell,
Then shalt thou cleanse thee from thy brother's gore;
Then will I take thy gift—that bloody stain
Shall not be seen upon thy hand again.

The Graveyard

My heart grows sick before the wide-spread death,
That walks and speaks in seeming life around;
And I would love the corse without a breath,
That sleeps forgotten 'neath the cold, cold ground;
For these do tell the story of decay,
The worm and rotten flesh hide not nor lie;
But this though dying too from day to day,
With a false show doth cheat the longing eye;
And hide the worm that gnaws the core of life,
With painted cheek and smooth deceitful skin;
Covering a grave with sights of darkness rife,
A secret cavern filled with death and sin;
And men walk o'er these graves and know it not,
For in the body's health the soul's forgot.

Sacrifice

Thou dost prefer the song that rises pure
On lips, that speak the words the contrite feel;
To all the hands, without the heart, procure,
And on thine altar lay with soulless zeal;
Thou dost not look to see the uplifted hands,
Not hear'st our cry, save when we do thy will;
But, when we keep, within, thy just commands,
Our praises shall thy courts with incense fill.
Ever it rises from the obedient heart,
Hangs clustering from the lips in accents sweet;
From which, who taste, unwillingly depart,
Where thorny words with show of verdure cheat;
But sit beneath the vine, and bless its shade,
And Him, who, for their wants, such rich provision made.

The Son of Man

The son of Man, where shall he find repose?
Ever a homeless wanderer o'er the earth,
No brother's there, no sister's love he knows,
A stranger in the land that gave him birth;
Who will receive the pilgrim on his way,
The cup of water to his dry lips hold?
A prophet's gift the welcome shall repay,
For he a keeper is of Christ's own fold;
He asks no pittance from your earthly store,
He asks your will, your life to him be given;
Give, and the life you lose he will restore,
And lead you onward to the gates of heaven;
Where waits a Father's love to crown your joy,
And banish all the griefs that here annoy.

The Ark

There is no change of time and place with Thee,
Where'er I go with me 'tis still the same;
Within thy presence I rejoice to be,
And always hallow thy most holy name;
The world doth ever change; there is no peace
Among the shallows of its storm-vexed breast;
With every breath the frothy waves increase,
They toss up mire and dirt, they cannot rest;
I thank Thee that within thy strong-built ark
My soul across the uncertain sea can sail,
And though the night of death be long and dark
My hopes in Christ shall reach within the veil;
And to the promised haven steady steer,
Whose rest to those who love is ever near.

The Father

Thou who first called me from the sleep of death,
Thee may I ever as my Father love;
In Thee my being find, in Thee my breath,
And never from Thyself again remove;
On Thee alone I wait, and Thee I serve;
Thou art my morn, my noon, and evening hour;
May I from thy commandments never swerve,
So wilt Thou be to me a heavenly dower;
Friends, brothers, wife, shall all be found in Thee,
Children, whose love for me shall ne'er grow cold;
And Thou the Father still o'er all shall be,
In thine embrace thy children ever hold;
In Christ awoke from death's forgotten sleep
Thy hands from harm thy sons shall ever keep.

Rachel

Where are my children, whom from youth I raised
With all a parent's love and gentle care;
That I might be by them forever praised,
And they with Me in all I have might share?
They have not known Me! see them bow the knee
To stocks and stones their death has given life;
And while enslaved rejoice that they are free,
Married, yet not to Me their lawful wife;
Turn, turn ye children, why then will ye die?
Why will ye slight the offer of my rest?
The day is near when vain will be your cry
With the sharp sword and pestilence opprest;
Turn, turn to Me and I will be your shield,
Before the hour is come that has your slaughter sealed.

Christmas

Awake ye dead! the summons has gone forth,
That bids you leave the dark enclosing grave;
From east to west 'tis heard, from south to north
The word goes forth the imprisoned souls to save;
Though ye have on the garments of the dead,
And the fourth day have slept within the earth,
Come forth! you shall partake the living bread,
And be a witness of the spirit's birth;
Awake ye faithful! throw your grave clothes by,
He whom you seek is risen, he bids you rise;
The cross again on earth is lifted high,
Turn to its healing sight your closing eyes;
And you shall rise and gird your armor on,
And fight till you a crown in Christ have won.

The Earth

I would lie low, the ground on which men tread,
Swept by thy spirit like the wind of heaven;
An earth where gushing springs and corn for bread
By me at every season should be given;
Yet not the water and the bread that now
Supplies their tables with its daily food;
But Thou wouldst give me fruit for every bough,
Such as Thou givest me, and call'st it good;
And water from the stream of life should flow,
By every dwelling that thy love has built;
Whose taste the ransomed of thy son shall know,
Whose robes are washed from every stain of guilt;
And men would own it was thy hand that blest,
And from my bosom find a surer rest.

The Hours

The minutes have their trusts as they go by,
To bear His love who wings their viewless flight;
To Him they bear their record as they fly,
Nor from their ceaseless round can they alight;
Rich with the life Thou liv'st they come to me,
Oh may I all that life to others show;
That they from strife may rise and rest in Thee,
And all thy peace in Christ by me may know;
Then shall the morning call me from my rest,
With joyful hope that I thy child may live;
And when the evening comes 'twill make me blest
To know that I a night to others give;
Such as thy peace does to thy children send,
Will be the night that Thou by me would lend.

The Christ

'Tis not by water only but by blood
Thou comest in the flesh, great Prince of Peace!
John is thy witness in the cleansing flood,
But thou art from above, and must increase;
Thou bidst us suffer on the accursed tree,
Where thou wast nailed for sins thou couldst not know;
That by thy blood from death I might be free,
And in thy kingly stature daily grow;
Thou bidst me lose the life that thou hast given,
As thou hast died for me and all before;
And win the crown of light from thee in heaven,
By wearing here the thorns thy temples wore;
And loving as thou loved, who sweat within
Great drops of blood unseen for unseen sin.

The Things Before

I would not tarry, Look! the things before
Call me along my path with beckoning love;
The things I gain wear not the hues they wore,
For brighter glories gild the heavens above;
Still on, I seek the peace my master sought,
The world cannot disturb his joy within;
It is not with its gold and silver bought,
It is the victory over death and sin;
But those who enter the bright city's gate,
Ride low on one the mocked and scorned of earth;
But there the ready mansions open wait,
For those who lived rejected from their birth;
And he who went before them bids all hail!
To those who o'er the world in him prevail.

The Cup

The bitterness of death is on me now,
Before me stands its dark unclosing door;
Yet to thy will submissive still I bow,
And follow him who for me went before;
The tomb cannot contain me though I die,
For his strong love awakes its sleeping dead;
And bids them through himself ascend on high,
To Him who is of all the living Head;
I gladly enter through the gloomy walls,
Where they have passed who loved their master here;
The voice they heard, to me it onward calls,
And can when faint my sinking spirit cheer;
And from the joy on earth it now has given,
Lead on to joy eternal in the heaven.

Old Things are passed away

The old creation Thou hast formed is dead,
The leaves are fallen from the lifeless tree,
The broken branches at our feet are spread,
And e'en the look of life begins to flee;
Yet while Thou lets the horrid trunk arise,
Thy children too can learn to bear with Thee;
Thy love in Christ shall make them truly wise,
And from its death their spirits ever free;
Then shall the world unseen be brought to light,
The starry hosts around thy throne appear,
And day on day still open new delight,
As in the eye of faith they shine more clear;
Untill earth's shadows fade for aye away,
And the glad spirit stands in cloudless day.

The Harvest

They love me not, who at my table eat;
They live not on the bread that Thou hast given;
The word Thou giv'st is not their daily meat,
The bread of life that cometh down from heaven;
They drink but from their lips the waters dry,
There is no well that gushes up within;
And for the meat that perishes they cry,
When Thou hast vexed their souls because of sin;
Oh send thy laborers! every hill and field
With the ungathered crop is whitened o'er;
To those who reap it shall rich harvests yield,
The full eared grain all ripened for thy store;
No danger can they fear who reap with Thee,
Though thick with storms the autumn sky may be.

The City

And Thou hast placed me on a lofty hill,
Where all who pass may mock and pierce me through;
Oh how can I in Christ be humble still,
Save that I learn with him thy will to do;
I cannot now from sight of men be hid,
Oh may my life thy heavenly rest proclaim;
That they may see in me the works that bid
The disbelievers glorify thy name;
Oh make them see thy light, thy light from heaven,
That they may be its children too with me;
And when, through suffering here, thy peace is given,
Thy nearer presence with me let them see;
And hear from him who but one talent gave,
That they with him shall many cities save.

The Rose

The rose thou showst me has lost all its hue,
For thou dost seem to me than it less fair;
For when I look I turn from it to you,
And feel the flower has been thine only care;
Thou shouldst have grown as freely by its side
As springs the bud from out its parent stem,
But thou art from thy Father severed wide,
And turnst from thine own self to look at them;
Thy words do not perfume the summer air,
Nor draw the eye and ear like this thy flower;
No bees shall make thy lips their daily care,
And sip the sweets distilled from hour to hour;
Nor shall new plants from out thy scattered seed,
O'er many a field the eye with beauty feed.

Faith

There is no faith; the mountain stands within
Still unrebuked, its summit reaches heaven;
And every action adds its load of sin,
For every action wants the little leaven;
There is no prayer; it is but empty sound,
That stirs with frequent breath the yielding air;
With every pulse they are more strongly bound,
Who make the blood of goats the voice of prayer;
Oh heal them, heal them Father with thy word,
Their sins cry out to Thee from every side;
From son and sire, from slave and master heard,
Their voices fill the desert country wide;
And bid Thee hasten to relieve and save,
By him who rose triumphant o'er the grave.

The Jew

Thou art more deadly than the Jew of old,
Thou hast his weapons hidden in thy speech;
And though thy hand from me thou dost withhold,
They pierce where sword and spear could never reach;
Thou hast me fenced about with thorny talk,
To pierce my soul with anguish while I hear;
And while amid thy populous streets I walk,
I feel at every step the entering spear;
Go, cleanse thy lying mouth of all its guile,
That from the will within thee ever flows;
Go, cleanse the temple thou dost now defile,
Then shall I cease to feel thy heavy blows;
And come and tread with me the path of peace,
And from thy brother's harm forever cease.

Spring

The stem that long has borne the wintry blast,
Encased with ice or powdered o'er with snow;
Shall, when its chilling breath has breathed its last,
Its springing leaves and bursting blossoms show;
So ye, on whom the earth's cold wind has blown,
While there you suffered for your master's name;
The kindness of the Father soon shall own,
And in the fruit you bear his love proclaim;
Endure, that you the glorious light may see,
That soon will rise upon the perfect soul;
Press on, and you accepted soon shall be,
And see the son and he shall make you whole;
And on the Father's name forever call,
And from his perfect wisdom never fall.

The Temple

The temple shall be built, the Holy One,
Such as the earth nor heavens have ever seen;
Nor shall the work by human hands be done,
But from the will of man it shall be clean;
Ages on ages shall the pile be wrought,
By Him whose will his children shall obey;
Till every son, by his own Father taught,
The chiseled stone he brought shall cast away;
Slowly the ancient temple is repaired,
While one by one as lively stones we grow;
By every son the work is to be shared,
Built on the corner stone in Christ laid low;
That from the eternal shrine might ever rise,
A holy prayer, a living sacrifice.

The White Horse

The Word goes forth! I see its conquering way,
O'er seas and mountains sweeps it mighty on;
The tribes of men are bowing 'neath its sway,
The pomp of kings, the pride of wisdom's gone;
Behold, the poor have raised the victor's shout;
The meek are crowned, their triumph too is nigh;
The barren now no more a son can doubt;
The mourner wipes her cheek and glittering eye;
Hark from the lofty places comes a groan,
That they cannot their wealth ill-gotten hide;
The midnight darkness from the thief is flown,
The garment's rent of falsely clothed pride;
The veil is drawn; the judgement seat appears;
I see joy mingling with a world in tears.

The Tent

Thou springest from the ground, and may not I
From Him who speeds thy branches high and wide;
And from the scorching sun and stormy sky
May I not too with friendly shelter hide;
There is no shade like thine to shield the poor,
From the hot scorching words that meet the ear;
The snowy, frozen flakes they must endure,
Of those whose hearts have never shed a tear;
Yet He who shoots thy leafy fabric high,
Shall in my verse spread wide a tempering skreen,
And when oppressed with heat his sons pass by,
With hastening feet they'll seek its arches green;
And bless the Father who has o'er them spread
A tent of verdure for their aching head.

My Sheep

I will not look upon the lands you own,
They are not those my heavenly Father gives;
That with his word of truth forever sown,
Blesses the man that on their bounty lives;
His yoke is easy, and his burthen light;
To till his grounds within his only care,
With God to live, his ever new delight,
And with out toil his liberal gifts to share;
He wants no barns, no shelter from the cold,
His Father's love provides for all he needs;
One of the flock of his own master's fold,
He hears his voice, and goes where'er he leads;
And pleasant pasture finds where'er he goes,
For all the paths of sin the Shepherd knows.

The Corner Stone

The builders still reject my corner stone,
That I low down in every soul have laid;
Their houses rise and fall; for there are none
That in the building seek its chosen aid;
Why will ye raise upon the shifting sands
Houses that every storm must battle down;
Temples and altars reared to Me with hands,
That rain and floods beneath their fury drown?
Clear, clear the ground of all that you have brought,
The corner stone shall now be laid anew;
That which the foolish builders set at naught
Shall now be laid where all that pass shall view;
And wonder why men thought them ever wise,
And on their own foundation sought to rise.

The Good Ground

The Word must fall; but where the well-tilled ground
Without a stone or briar to choke the seed;
Where can the deep, black earth it needs be found,
That shall the plant with plenteous juices feed?
Break up your fallow lands! the seed is sown
With heaven's own richness in each bosom's field,
Cut down the tares that rankly there have grown,
And heavy crops the word of God shall yield;
Cut down your will that sows the deadly tare,
That bears no fruit but for your own dark breast;
Cut down, nor let a root the sharp axe spare,
Then shall my land enjoy its day of rest;
And he that reaps rejoice with Him who sows,
While through the loaded field he daily goes.

The Beginning and The End

Thou art the First and Last, the End of all
The erring spirit seeks of earth to know;
Thee first it left, a Parent at its fall,
To Thee again thy sinful child must go;
With awe I read the lessons of thy grace,
To all that disobey so freely given;
The child shall see again his Father's face,
And through thy son return to Thee and heaven;
Ye spirits that around your Maker stand,
Rejoice! the world is ransomed from its weight of woe;
Thou earth obey your sovereign's wise command,
Wash, 'twas for you he bade his mercy flow;
It is for you Christ's blood descends like rain,
That you through him might rise to life again.

Nature

The bubbling brook doth leap when I come by,
Because my feet find measure with its call;
The birds know when the friend they love is nigh,
For I am known to them both great and small;
The flowers, which on the lovely hill-side grow,
Expect me there, when Spring their bloom has given;
And many a bush and tree my wanderings know,
And e'en the clouds and silent stars of heaven:
For he, who with his Maker walks aright,
Shall be their lord, as Adam was before;
His ear shall catch each sound with new delight,
Each object wear the dress that then it wore;
And he, as when erect in soul he stood,
Hear from his Father's lips that all is good.

Morning

The light will never open sightless eyes,
It comes to those who willingly would see;
And every object, hill, and stream, and skies,
Rejoice within th'encircling line to be;
'Tis day—the field is filled with busy hands,
The shop resounds with noisy workmen's din,
The traveller with his staff all ready stands
His yet unmeasured journey to begin;
The light breaks gently too within the breast—
Yet there no eye awaits the crimson morn,
The forge and noisy anvil are at rest,
Nor men nor oxen tread the fields of corn,
Nor pilgrim lifts his staff—it is no day
To those who find on earth a place to stay.

The Temptation

Thou shalt not live e'en by the bread alone,
But by the word from out the mouth of God;
This is the bread by all his children known,
All those who tread the path their Master trod;
For this thou shalt leave all and follow him,
The Word of God that has come down from heaven;
For this thou shalt cut off the dearest limb,
That by the Father has to thee been given;
Houses and lands, mother's and father's love,
To this are cheaper than the barren sand;
This is the Life that cometh from above,
To bind the heavens in one eternal band;
And died that us from death he might recall,
And God in us and him be all in all.

Help

Thou wilt be near me Father, when I fail,
For Thou hast called me now to be thy son;
And when the foe within me may assail,
Help me to say in Christ ‘Thy will be done’;
This ever calms, this ever gives me rest;
There is no fight in which I may not stand,
When Christ doth dwell supreme within my breast,
And Thou upholdst me with thy mighty hand;
To live a servant here on earth I ask,
To be with Thee my ever great reward,
To overcome all sin my strengthening task,
Till with Thyself my soul made pure accord;
Then shall my service be in Christ complete,
And I restored in him thy Holyness shall meet.

Change

Father! there is no change to live with Thee,
Save that in Christ I grow from day to day,
In each new word I hear, each thing I see
My feet rejoycing hasten on the way;
The morning comes with blushes overspread,
And I new-wakened find a morn within;
And in its modest dawn around me shed,
Thou hearst the prayer and the ascending hymn;
Hour follows hour, the lengthening shades descend;
Yet they could never reach as far as me
Did not thy love their kind protection lend,
That I a child might sleep awhile on Thee;
Till to the light restored by gentle sleep
With new-found zeal I might thy precepts keep.

The Poor

I walk the streets and though not meanly drest,
Yet none so poor as can with me compare;
For none though weary call me in to rest,
And though I hunger none their substance share;
I ask not for my stay the broken reed,
That fails when most I want a friendly arm;
I cannot on the loaves and fishes feed,
That want the blessing that they may not harm;
I only ask the living word to hear,
From tongues that now but speak to utter death;
I thirst for one cool cup of water clear,
But drink the riled stream of lying breath;
And wander on though in my Father land,
Yet hear no welcome voice, and see no beakoning hand.

They Who Hunger

Thou hearst the hungry ravens when they cry,
And to thy children shalt Thou not send bread;
Who on thy aid alone for help rely,
And in the steps of Christ alone would tread?
They shall not cry for righteousness in vain,
But bread from heaven thy hand shall soon supply;
When falls in plenteous showers the latter rain,
Thy plants shall push their thrifty branches high;
And untilled lands that now affront the sight
To the strong plough their riches shall lay bare;
And like thy fruitful fields the eye delight,
Rejoycing in thy sun and shower to share,
And they who mourn shall sing the harvest song,
And reap the crops that to thy sons belong.

Who Hath Ears To Hear Let Him Hear!

The sun doth not the hidden place reveal,
Whence pours at morn his golden flood of light;
But what the night's dark breast would fain conceal,
In its true colors walks before our sight;
The bird does not betray the secret springs,
Whence note on note her music sweetly pours;
Yet turns the ear attentive while she sings,
The willing heart while falls the strain adores;
So shall the spirit tell not whence its birth,
But in its light thine untold deeds lay bare;
And while it walks with thee flesh-clothed the earth,
Its words shall of the Father's love declare:
And happy those whose ears shall hail its voice,
And clean within the day it gives rejoice.

The Sign

They clamor for a sign with eyeless zeal,
As if 'twould lift their burthened souls to heaven;
And think the spirit must the body heal,
Not know the want for which alone 'twas given;
They cry; but faithless shall no sign receive,
Save that of him who for the sinful died,
That they might on his saving name believe,
And in his promise trustingly confide;
Then from the earth, where buried now they lie,
On the true Sabbath morn shall they arise,
And, taught by him, shall then ascend on high
His glory to behold with unsealed eyes,
And in his Father's presence still to live,
The heir of all His perfect love can give.

The Tree

I too will wait with thee returning spring,
When thick the leaves shall cling on every bough,
And birds within their new grown arbor sing,
Unmindful of the storms that tore me now;
For I have stripped me naked to the blast,
That now in triumph through my branches rides;
But soon the winter's bondage shall be past,
To him who in the Savior's love abides;
And as his Father to thy limbs returns,
Blossoms and bloom to sprinkle o'er thy dress,
So shall Christ call from out their funeral urns,
Those who in patience still their souls possess;
And clothe in raiments never to wax old,
All whom his Father gave him for his fold.

The Meek

I would be meek as He who bore his cross,
And died on earth that I in him might live,
And, while in sin I knew not of my loss,
Suffered with gentle love his hope to give;
May I within the manger too be laid,
And mid the thieves his childlike meekness show;
And though by him who kisses me betrayed,
May I no will but his my Master's know;
Thus sheltered by the lonely vale of tears,
My feet shall tread secure the path he trod,
Mid lying tongues that pierce my side like spears,
I too shall find within the peace of God;
And though rejected shall possess the earth,
And dead in Christ be witness of his birth.

The Desert

Oh, bid the desert blossom as the rose,
For there is not one flower that meets me now;
On all thy fields lie heaped the wintry snows,
And the rough ice encrusts the fruitful bough;
Oh, breathe upon thy ruined vineyard still,
Though like the dead it long unmoved has lain;
Thy breath can with the bloom of Eden fill,
The lifeless clods in verdure clothe again;
Awake, ye slothful! open wide the earth
To the new sun and spirit's quickening rain;
They come to bid the furrows heave in birth,
And strew with roses thick the barren plain;
Awake, be early in your untilled field,
And it to you the crop of peace shall yield.

The Clay

Thou shalt do what Thou wilt with thine own hand,
Thou form'st the spirit like the moulded clay;
For those who love Thee keep thy just command,
And in thine image grow as they obey;
New tints and forms with every hour they take,
Whose life is fashioned by thy spirit's power;
The crimson dawn is round them when they wake,
And golden triumphs wait the evening hour;
The queenly-sceptred night their souls receive,
And spreads their pillows 'neath her sable tent;
And o'er their slumbers unseen angels breathe,
The rest Thou hast to all who labor lent;
That they may rise refreshed to light again,
And with Thee gather in the whitening grain.

The Altar

Oh kindle up thine altar! see the brands
Lie scattered here and there that lit the pile;
Thy priests to other service turn their hands,
And with unhallowed works their souls defile;
No victims bleed, no fire is blazing high,
They leave thy shrine to serve another god;
Who will not hear them when to him they cry,
But be to them thine own avenging rod;
The people wait in vain to hear thy voice,
With none to lead them right, with none to feed;
No more within thy courts their hearts rejoice,
But at each word the Christ must in them bleed;
Oh kindle up the heart's expiring flame!
Come quickly Lord, and magnify thy name.

Praise

Oh praise the Lord! let every heart be glad!
The day has come when He will be our God;
No fears can come to make his children sad,
His joy is theirs who in his ways have trod;
Oh praise ye hills! praise Him ye rivers wide!
Ye people own his love! revere his power!
He makes his peace in one full current glide,
It shall flow on unbroken from this hour;
Shout! shout ye saints! the triumph day is near,
The King goes forth Himself his sons to save;
The habitations of the poor to rear,
And bid the palm and myrtle round them wave;
Open your gates ye heaven uplifted walls!
The King of Kings for entrance at them calls.

Terror

There is no safety; fear has seized the proud;
The swift run to and fro but cannot fly;
Within the streets I hear no voices loud,
They pass along with low, continuous cry;
Lament! bring forth the mourning garments now,
Prepare a solemn fast! for ye must mourn;
Strip every leaf from off the boastful bough,
Let every robe from hidden deeds be torn;
Bewail! bewail! great Babylon must fall!
Her sins have reached to heaven; her doom is sealed;
Upon the Father now of mercies call,
For the great day of secrets is revealed!
Repent! why do ye still uncertain stand,
The kingdom of my son is nigh at hand!

The Prayer

Father! help them who walk in their own light;
Who think they see, but are before Thee blind;
Give them within thy rest, thy spirit's sight;
And may they in the Christ their healing find;
Father! they have not faith, help Thou their trust;
Grant them within thy precepts to fulfill;
Oh bid thy spirit animate their dust,
And bid them once again to know thy will;
Then shall they live with Thee and sin no more;
Then walk with Christ thy well beloved son;
And when their earthly pilgrimage is o'er,
And they the martyr's crown in him have won,
Oh take them to thine own eternal rest,
The heaven where he who enters must be blest.

Humility

Oh humble me! I cannot bide the joy
That in my Savior's presence ever flows;
May I be lowly, lest it may destroy
The peace his childlike spirit ever knows;
I would not speak thy word, but by Thee stand;
While Thou dost to thine erring children speak;
Oh help me but to keep his own command,
And in my strength to feel me ever weak;
Then in thy presence shall I humbly stay,
Nor lose the life of love he came to give;
And find at last the life, the truth, the way,
To where with him thy blessed servants live;
And walk forever in the path of truth,
A servant yet a son, a sire and yet a youth.

Forgiveness

Forgive me Father! for to Thee I stand
Alike with those who have not known thy law;
Oh humble me beneath thy mighty hand,
That I from Christ may every lesson draw;
Thou knowst me needy, naked, blind and poor;
Oh help me to buy gold refined by Thee,
May I of Thee the marriage robe procure,
Anoint my eyes that I indeed may see;
May I before thy presence ever kneel,
A suppliant waiting on thy gracious love,
That every want before I ask can feel,
And from distress will hasten to remove;
And to my master's joy will me restore,
Where I no want can feel forevermore.

The Heavenly Rest

They do not toil in heaven; they live and love,
Their heavenly Father every want supplies;
Nor can they from their blest abode remove,
For nought can enter there, that ever dies.
A life of love! how sweetly pass its hours,
No tear, but that of joy, can touch the cheeks;
Their lips distill, like fragrance-breathing flowers,
The truth which each to each forever speaks.
Oh, blessed the Parent, who has bid us know
The joys, which at His own right hand doth dwell;
Oh, blessed the children, that His praises show,
And of His love in ceaseless worship tell;
And blessed the Lamb, that for their sins was slain,
That they with Him forevermore might reign.

Compassion

He saw them tasked with heavy burthens all,
Bowed down and weary 'neath the heavy load;
With none their faltering footsteps home to call,
Or point them out the strait and narrow road;
His spirit bore their burthens as his own,
He healed the sick, restored the sightless eyes;
He heard the mourner for a loved one moan,
And bid the dead from out the grave arise;
In him the spirit ever rests secure,
For there is one to ease its struggling grief;
Oh seek the rest that ever shall endure,
And you shall find in him the true relief;
And join with him to succor the distrest,
And be like him forever by them blest.

The Rock

Thou art; there is no stay but in Thy love;
Thy strength remains; it built the eternal hills;
It speaks the word forever heard above,
And all creation with its presence fills;
Upon it let me stand and I shall live;
Thy strength shall fasten me forever fixed,
And to my soul its sure foundations give,
When earth and sky thy word in one has mixed;
Rooted in Thee no storm my branch shall tear,
But with each day new sap shall upward flow,
And for thy vine the clustering fruit shall bear;
That with each rain the lengthening shoots may grow,
Till o'er Thy Rock its leaves spread far and wide,
And in its green embrace its Parent hide.

To notice other days were pages given

The Crocus

The Plant

Thou art my Father Thou dost give me birth
Pleasant thy smile & pleasant e'en thy frown
Thy hand here placed me in the furrowed earth
And sent the rain in plenteous fulness down
Twas Thou who watched when on the spring grain
The small dew fell and sunlight daily poured
And when the wind blew fiercely from the main
Thy care each drooping limb has oft restored
Thou art my Father still thy care attend
Support the plant the seed and lofty tree
Alike look up to find in Thee their friend
The ear the spring blade draw life from Thee
And Thou the humble fruit I daily yield
Wilt come and view with pleasure in thy field

I am the Way

Thy way is simple for I am the light
By which thou travelest on to meet thy God
Brighter and brighter still shall be thy sight
Till thou hast ended here the path I trod
Before thee stretches far the thorny way
Yet smoothed for thee by him who went before
Go on it leads you to the perfect day
The rest I to the patriarch Abraham swore
Go on and I will guide you safely through
For I have walked with suffering feet thy path
Confide in me the Faithful and the True
And thou shalt flee the approaching day of wrath
Whose dawn e'en now the horizon's border shows
And with its kindling fires prophetic glows.

The Kingdom of God Is within you

My kingdom is within you seek it there
Ye shall not seek in vain who work within
You shall within it find the good and fair
The living spirits freed from death and sin
Thou canst not buy with gold and silver ore
The treasures that my kingdom can afford
They are for those who love me kept in store
And they who love me keep my holy word
Repent be quick to do what first thou did
There is but one the strait and narrow way
Fear not when thou art faint and must be chid
But only fear lest thou from me should stray
For I am life and they who seek me find
The keys of heaven I hold to loose and bind.

My Church

This is the rock where I my church will build
Harder than flint its sure foundations are
Though few now pass the door it shall be filled
The gates of hell shall not my triumph bar
Seek and thou too the door shall find
Knock and thou too shall enter in
I hold the keys and who but me can bind?
And who but me can loose the bonds of sin?
Eternal life shall those who worship here
Forevermore receive at my right hand
I call thee too my wedding day is near
Haste lest without the bridal hall you stand
And you be found not with the garment on
Which all who live with me on earth have worn.

The Charge

I speak in you the word that gave you birth
Fear not I call you to attend my voice
Walk humbly on thy path lies through the earth
But thou shalt in the latter day rejoice
If thou to all hast spoken ever true
What thou hast heard from me who send you forth
For every secret thing is brought to view
When I before all men proclaim your worth
Speak boldly then for 'tis not you they hear
But him who in you speaks the living word
Nor those who kill the body need you fear
They cannot hear who have not of me heard
My sheep shall hear thee for I bid thee call
And hasten at thy summons one and all.

The Sabbath

Thy rest has come thy long expected rest
The spirit sees at last her Maker God
Within His presence ever to be blest
Nor longer feel for sin His chastening rod
The sabbath has begun its sacred hours
No more can aught of earthly passions stir
The service of thy shrine demands my powers
And earth no longer can its claim defer
Oh when shall all its service be complete
And I have done thy perfect will on earth
That Christ my name before Thee may repeat
And wake me as a witness of his birth?
When shall I wake and know that day of love
That endless Sabbath kept for me above?

The Invitation

There is no sound but thou dost hear my voice
And in the silence of thine heart obey
Thou shalt with me before the throne rejoice
When I have led thee in the living way
Follow my steps they lead to God and life
Where thou no more shalt fear no more shall fall
For I will give the weary rest from strife
And they with me shall dwell who hear my call
Come then partake the feast for you prepared
I have come down to bid you welcome there
For those who have with me the dangers shared
I will with them my Father's blessings share
Come hasten on thy brothers wait within
Strive for in me thou shalt be free from sin.

The Preacher

The world has never known me bid them hear
My word it speaks will they but hear its voice
I will uphold thee banish every fear
And in my name alone fore'er rejoice
Thou hast been by my Holy Spirit led
And it shall lead you still as gently on
Till thou hast on the word I give you fed
And in my name the crown of life have won
Come hasten on thou shalt not want for I
Will be your guide your rest and your defence
Be strong I wipe the tears from every eye
And to my Father's house will lead you hence
Put on thine armor daily fight with me
And you my glory soon in joy shall see.

Come unto me

Come all ye weary. I will give you rest
The rest for all my Father's love prepares
Come and in me and him be wholly blest
And I will free you from the world of cares
For I am meek and lowly learn of me
And you shall find in me the promised peace
Come learn of me though blind your eyes shall see
And every joy I give shall never cease
The marriage feast is ready hasten in
For those who tarry shall their lateness mourn
Come and your robes I'll wash from every sin
And in my arms shall every son be borne
Till freed from every danger he shall be
A child of light and all my glory see.

Flee to the mountains

The morn is breaking see the rising sun
Has on your windows cast his burning light
Arise the day is with you onward run
Lest soon you wander lost in murky night
I will be with you 'tis your day of flight
Hasten the hour is near you cannot fly
Leave all for he who stops can never fight
The foe that shall assail him from on high
They come the plagues that none can flee
Behold the wrath of God is on you poured
Of hasten find the rest He gives in me
And you shall fear no fear in me restored
They cannot pause oh hasten while you may
For soon shall close around thy little day.

Blessed are they that mourn

Blessed are they that mourn my life is theirs
The life I led on earth they too shall lead
Its joy and sorrows and its weight of cares
Shall all be theirs for in my name they bleed
Happy their lot for so I bid them grow
And finish here the work my Father gave
And when the weary day its end shall know
They shall through me rejoice them o'er the grave
Happy their death for they shall live again
When I in triumph come to claim the few
Who in my name the cross within have worn
And by their toils have found me just and true
Happy thrice happy those who seek my face
They shall not want for they shall find my grace.

Faith

Hast thou but faith thou shalt the mountain bid
Remove and it shall walk nor longer stand
Thy weakness to resist and nobly chid
Its giant heights shall nod at thy command
Be strong the word but tries thine infant might
And soon thy stature shall resist my rod
Be sober and in wisdom much delight
And thou shalt then be called a child of God
Hasten the way before thee yet extends
Far on where yet thou little dreamst to go
Be wise and seek in me who knows its ends
And you no more shall wander to and fro
But onward run till you the race have won
And from my precepts here my Father's will have done.

Redeeming the time

Be up betimes there is no need of rest
Save what is given and thou wilt take no more
Thy love will grow and make thee wholly blest
When thou hast drank the streams that freely pour
When nought of sloth nor folly marks the way
Thy spirit daily holds for I am there
My path leads onward to the perfect day
Come and thou shalt with me my kingdom share
Come for the needy cry aloud for bread
Do not withhold thy hand but inward pray
Give and for you the richest feast they'll spread
When they in me have learnt the better way
Pray always cease not prayer by day or night
Tis so thy course shines brighter and more bright.

'Tis Finished

Tis done the world has vanished Christ remains
The only sure the only lasting trust
Look see its smouldering fire the iron chains
Are broke that bound my spirit to the dust
A life of love henceforth my sole employ
The Father's love in him so freely shown
Come hasten on and share with me the joy
That only from the cross by blood has flown
The joy I share to all is freely given
Who live the life he led on earth before
Come and e'en here thou hast the bliss of heaven
The robe put on the wedding robe he wore
And thou shalt be accepted at his feast
Nor fail of much he loveth e'en the least.

Effort

I have not loved thee much my heart is poor
And cannot give like that thou givest me
Oh would with stronger zeal it might endure
And all thy gift in all thy suffering see
Lift up the feeble hands the bending head
Come rouse press on the goal is yet before
I will with stronger feet thy pathway tread
And reach while still I may the open door
That thou hast set for me and all who fight
The war with sin thou givest them to wage
Oh help me lest upon me fall the night
And I without shall feel the tempest rage
That now is rising in the lowering east
Oh quicken thou my steps to taste thy feast.

To the pure all things are pure

The flowers I pass have eyes that look at me
The birds have ears that hear my spirit's voice
And I am glad the leaping brook to see
Because it does at my light step rejoice
Come brothers all who tread the grassy hill
Or wander thoughtless o'er the blooming fields
Come learn in sweet obedience of thy will
And every sight and sound new pleasure yields
Nature shall seem another house of thine
Where He who formed thee bid live and play
And in thy rambles e'en the creeping vine
Shall keep with thee a jocund holyday
And every plant and bird and insect be
Thine own companions born for harmony.

The Task

Thy cross is hard to bear it weighs me down
E'en to the earth where on my feet must tread
Yet I by this must gain the wished for crown
And find the spirit in the body dead
Hard is the lesson patience gives to learn
Yet when tis past sweet comfort 'twill bestow
And thou wilt cheer me for I cannot turn
But must in thee to manly stature grow
Oh lift me up with every passing hour
Some higher and still higher sight to gain
Till I am raised above temptation's power
And find in thee relief from every pain
For thou wilt give to those who ask aright
To taste thy cup and portion of delight.

Spring

I have not lived the flesh has hedged me in
I have not known the joy to be with thee
But I must strive to loose the bonds of sin
That press me round and be forever free
Give me the victory o'er the tyrant death
Whose scepter rests now cold upon my heart
Breathe on me and reviving at thy breath
The chills that o'er me steal will quick depart
And I revive like the ice frosted flower
That winter seizes in his rude embrace
When spring with kindly sun and loosing shower
Creeps on from southern climes with welcome face
And chides the spoilers of her children fair
And once again restores them to her care.

The Day

Break forth in joy my soul the sea retires
Its waters cease to roll across my head
I feel within new kindling of the fires
That seemed but forever lost and dead
Awake give forth thy joy with voice of song
There is no death for him who walks with God
Obey and shalt in the land He gives live long
And none shall lay thy head beneath the sod
Awake to sin is sleep death is the night
That round the spirit when it sins
The morning comes rise witness the delight
With which the ransomed soul the day begins
Come for the freedom waits thy spirit too
Oh see the day brings all we lost to view.

The Strong Man

There is no night I cannot sleep again
For I have learned of patience to obey
And light and darkness cannot now retain
The spirit that has made the life of Christ its day
There is no slumbering when he reigns within
Each hand puts forth each foot its vigor shows
Life rules and motion is in every limb
Thou sawst me dead now all within me grows
And strengthens with each pulse all things are small
I can do all things in the spirit strong
I will not boast in vain see see them fall
The iron ramparts that withstood so long
Increase my strength Oh Thou who gave me life
That I in Thee may still renew the strife.

The Warrior

Where are ye, ye who mocked my arm of late
I triumph now your hour of mirth is past
Bow down I come in strength of Christ elate
Boast not; I breathe; ye fall before the blast.
Ye hills retire! open thou raging sea
My steps are onward now; ye cannot stay
The God of battles—lo He fights for me
Submit before His feet prepare the way
Ye iron breasted armies too I scorn
Away how feeble is the spear or sword
I am of Him who gives the quicking spirit born
And wield forever wield the conquering word
Its power shall beat in atoms mountain high
And through the parting sea shall lead me dry.

The Acorn

The seed has started, who can stay it? see
The leaves are sprouting high above the ground
Already o'er the flowers its head, the tree
That rose beside it and that on it frowned
Behold is but a small bush by its side
Still on! it cannot stop; its branches spread;
It looks o'er all the earth in giant pride
The nations find upon its limbs their bread
Its boughs their millions shelter from the heat
Beneath its shade see kindreds tongues and all
That the wide world contains they all retreat
Beneath the shelter of that acorn small
That late thou flung away 'twas the best gift
That heaven e'er gave, its head the low shall lift.

The Shelter

There is no joy like that in finding Thee
Thou art my shelter from each storm that blows
He walks abroad his way is safe and free
Who loves and in new commandment goes
For him there waits not who can do him harm
He knows no fear he sees no covert foe
He carries with him that which rage can charm
And bid the kindled fire of hate burn low
Love turns aside the malar pointed dart
The icy hand it warms and then restores
Who feels and knows not of its gentle art
That cures each wound that saddened grief deplores
Come and it healing touch shall give the sight
And borrow for it joy to lend its light.

The Harvest

The plant it springs it rears its drooping head
Strengthened with every shower that falls from heaven
See quickly at their touch its branches spread
And soon twill bless with flowers look they are given
The promised blessing cannot be delayed
But fast will follow every good intent
Tis not in vain thy mourning spirit prayed
Behold the rich reward in answer sent
Peace from the Father joy a full increase
For all thou sowed in sorrow in the earth
Thy joy shall bud and bloom thy new found peace
Grow with each day. Thine is the promised birth
Of all that dies it shall be raised again
See that thou sowest thick the springing grain.

The Husbandman

I waited long but now my joy is great
For that which once I sowed begins to appear
Though slow yet sure my harvest tis not late
For Him who guides the oft revolving year
I watch not for the crops that dying earth
Yields from her bosom to the tribes of men
I watch for those who come of heavenly birth
A Father's care a Father's love have been
But lightly spent do they repay the toil
My hand upon my vineyard oft bestows
Come learn to reap for me the wine and oil
From every field in plenty overflows
I bid thee enter as a laborer now
Go forth and thou shalt pluck from every bough

The Last

Why hast thou tarried till the eleventh hour
Yet enter in thou shalt not want for hire
I will repay thou knowest I have power
To give thee all thy spirit can desire
Go in who reap for Me shall find their gain
In ever new and ever fresh employ
Thou reapest let no hour thy hand restrain
Be strong fill up the measure of thy joy
It shall o'er flow for He who gives thee meat
Has stores no time nor hunger can exhaust
He shall provide thee hasten gain thy seat
At his son's board lest thou from him be lost
And reap not of the full reward he gives
For he that sups with him he ever lives

The Call

Come thou and labor with me I will give
To who works abundant work to do
Arise gird on thine armor tis to live
That thou must struggle now and strongly too
There is no pause the conflicts soon begin
Arm thee with all thy patience all thy zeal
The gates of vice are open enter in
Nor fear thy foe though armed in thriple steel
I charge thee welcome none who bear the sword
Be true spare not though thou must slay thy nearest friends
Remember Him who arms thee with his word
And forth in his own name his servant sends
Be true for He thy crown can take away
And He spirit by his word can slay.

The Promise

The words I give thee they are not thine own
Give them as freely as to thee they're given
And thou shalt reap the grain thy hands have sown
When thou hast reached in peace the opening heaven
Come I will give thee kindred friends and wife
Such as no earthly lot can have in store
Thou shalt receive them for eternal life
And earth shall yield her many myriads more
My mansion is prepared come enter in
Put on the wedding dress and you shall be
A welcome tenant freed from every sin
Henceforth to walk from bondage ever free
In the last day I come it cometh soon
Be wise thy morning hour shall reach its noon.

Joy

The joy Thou giv'st no man can take away
For it is born of him who lives within
He comes the power of death o'er all to slay
And cleanse the heart of every secret sin
Thou shalt not see his face and mourn again
Save that thy mourning works thee double joy
For he can rich reward thy slightest pain
And give thee hope when sorrows here annoy
Come know with me the riches of his grace
Freely he offers them to all beside
And he will show us soon his Father's face
And bid the stream of grief however wide
Its waters here may roll, be dry and we
No more within its waves tossed to and fro shall be

Hope

Break forth in joy my soul the waves retire
And the dry land appears the promised land
Awake from sleep and strike the slumbering lyre
That long has lain forsaken by thy hand
Thou hast found grace the peace begins on earth
And thou e'en thou art called its joy to share
Awake thy notes are sweet an angel's birth
The trembling strings with joy unknown declare
Go on thy work shall grow with every day
The rising sun shall soon thy wishes greet
And thou from all defilement purged array
Thyself with robes the son to meet
And he thy faithful zeal in heaven shall own
And thou shalt strike thy lyre forever near the throne.

Relief

Oh give me of thy waters pure and clear
For my soul pants beneath this sultry hour
There is no spring nor running river near
That can assuage the burning fever's power
Oh grant me of thy spirit now to taste
Such as it was to me when I obeyed
Then may I walk amid this scorching waste
Nor sink its waters has my thirst allayed
I rise and now can run I now can bear
The heaviest burthen Thou mayst on me place
Oh give but of thy rich grace to share
And I no more will wet with tears my face
Nor mourn that hope hast left me but press on
Though mountains rise thy will shall still be done

Joy

Thou hast a moon for every cloudy night
And soon the mourner shall rejoice again
Fight well the sun shall come with cheering light
And thou no more thy tearful look retain
The spirit is not slow it comes when thou
Hast learnt by chastening of His healing love
Who bade thee for a time 'neath sorrow bow
That gentle peace might visit from above
Oh give the chastener welcome he will bring
Strength and his rod shall guide thy feet aright
And though thy tears may fall they are the spring
When gushing joy shall pour thee new delight
And thou shalt bless the hand that gave the pain
For it but fell that thou might joy again.

The Creation

I said of old when darkness brooded long
Upon the waste of waters Be thou light
And forthwith sprang the sun rejoicing strong
To chase away the mystery of the night
Behold an earth the heavens are hung above
Ascend the sons of men ascend be free
Rise and fulfill my perfect law of love
Believe the Father speaks he calls to thee
Drop every burthen that might clog thy way
Rejoice for thou art called my race to run
The oft besetting sin cast far and pray
That you with joy may end what is begun
Rejoice and look on high for thence shall fly
He whom thou hearst to bear thee to the sky.

The Snare

My kingdom is within you haste to find
Its glorious dawn bright streaming in the west
Open thine inward eye for thou art blind
Behold the morning waits go cleanse thy breast
For see its herald he who goes before
And with his warning voice prepares the way
Quick o'er your hearts his cleansing water pour
And you shall see the rising of my day
Go not from place to place it comes not so
But as the lightning shineth from the east
And to the west its forked branches go
E'en so unnoticed has its light increased
Till in its circling brightness all shall stand
And none escape who slight John's true command

The Yoke

My yoke is easy and my burthen light
For he who finds me loves and can obey
From him has fled the darkness of the night
He is prepared to cast this life away
And follow me who onward lead the few
That have preferred the life I give to gold
They shall not want for glories ever new
Shall on their eyes with every hour unfold
See a new heaven is theirs a rising earth
That shall not from their vision disappear
There shall the meek rejoice them in their birth
The troubled be at rest, there shall no fear
Come to disturb the blessed abode I give
But all in joy and peace with me shall live.

The Promise

I come the rushing wind that shook the place
Where those once sat who spake with tongues of fire
O'er thee to shed the freely given grace
And bid them speak while I thy verse inspire
The world shall hear and know that thou art sent
To preach glad tidings to the needy poor
And witness that by me the power is lent
That wakes the dead, the halt and lame can cure
Thy words shall breathe refreshment to the mind
That long has borne the heavy yoke of pain
For thou art to the will of Him who lives resigned
And from thy sorrows reap the promised gain
And gather fruits with Him who with thee sows
Nor can men steal thy goods, for none thy treasure knows

The Path of Peace

Turn ye turn ye who tread the wandring path
That leads not to my rest thorn-sprinkled o'er
Why treasure wrath against the day of wrath
And garments buy for burning kept in store
Oh come and I will comfort you indeed
With peace no earthly hand can give your soul
Come buy of me against the time of need
Drink drink the wine from out my flowing bowl
Ye shall not want. Your feet shall find again
The flowery path they lost in younger days
When every hour but added to your gain
Of pleasant fields and birds' inviting lays
And you were led from hill to streamlet on
Nor knew the day was ended till twas gone.

Obedience

My word will teach obedience thou wilt learn
From me the perfect path the living way
Go forward for thy service now shall earn
For thee a sure a never ceasing pay
Thou hast let thee out to one untrue
Who will not give thee for thy labor given
Serve me within be inwardly a Jew
And thou shalt reign with me a priest in heaven
Thy way lies onward bright and brighter still
Till thou on earth hast fought the fight for me
And done within my Father's perfect will
Then from thy bondage here I'll set you free
And you shall mourn no more no more remove
But ever in me live and in me love.

Grief

I bid thee weep but mourn not at thy lot
As though no comfort flowed for those who mourn
Thou shalt not sorrow always tears are not
But that by them thou mayst from sin be torn
Thou canst not weep for when my feet have traced
On to the goal whence I first came thy God
There every tear from memory effaced
Thou'lt smile and own as his the chastening rod
What son is he the Father does not strive
By sorrow's porch to bring to me within
The plants his hand have raised have learned to thrive
Through much affliction borne to them within
Be wise and He will lead you by the hand
Till you through tears shall see the promised land

The Reward

To him who hath to him I love to give
And he each day shall more and more abound
He shall the hidden manna eat and live
That only is in true obedience found
Come and its stores I'll open to your sight
They lie concealed save I the treasure show
None find my gold save those restored to light
Where nought of sin the spotless soul can know
There thou shalt live and feast with me in joy
A guest mid many that have owned my name
Arise henceforth thine ever blest employ
The praises of the Lamb thy lips shall claim
No more to feed on that which is not bread
No more to mourn and perish with the dead.

So is every one who is born of the spirit

It bloweth where it listeth hark the sound
Ye know not whence it comes nor where it goes
Its fruit shall in your borders to be found
Yet know ye not the stalk from which it grows
Go learn whence comes these words of heavenly truth
Cleanse ye the fountain whence their murmurs flow
And you though old shall still renew your youth
And of the life the spirit leads shall know
Go count the steps that measure out the path
That leads through John for he must come before
Then shall you flee the approaching day of wrath
And enter safely through the accepted door
For I am sure who promise seek my rest
The star the east beheld shines sinking in the west.

The Seed

Wouldst thou behold my features cleanse thy heart
Wash out the stains thy will impresses there
And as the clay-stamped images depart
Thou shalt behold my face how wondrous fair
How changed from that thine outward eye must see
It wears no form its searching glance can know
From flesh and blood it now has wrought it free
And in the spirit learns from Christ to grow
That which thou sowest is not that which springs
From the dead grain thou givest to the earth
Each moment's toil an added lustre brings
To deck the spirit when it springs to birth
From out the seed in Christ that long has lain
Buried beneath the snowy-crusted plain.

I am the Light of the World

I am the sun thine eye has seen the light
That lighteneth every man in spirit born
I can restore the blind to perfect sight
I am of heaven the crimson breaking morn
Gird on thy strength thy march will need it all
And many round thee hurrying to and fro
Shall stand to hear thy word's prophetic call
The day the day is near proclaim aloud
The day of wrath or joy to all the earth
Behold ^ the ascending cloud (though small appears)
'Tis a sure witness of my second birth
I come and every eye their Lord shall see
And those who scorn and pierce shall bow the knee.

The Apostle

I am the First and Last declare my Word
For I have sent thee an apostle forth
Thou hast from Me the living gospel heard
Thou shalt proclaim its truth from south to north
The farthest west the early east shall hear
My name that by the earth shall hallowed be
And they shall bow before my shrine in fear
And own my truth and it shall make them free
And thou if thou shalt keep my holy name
A priest shall be before the living God
And through the world the Father's truth proclaim
Ruling the nations with his chastening rod
And walk from glory on to glory still
Till thou in me has done his perfect will.

The Message

There is no voice but it is born of Me
I am there is no other God beside
Before Me all that live shall bow the knee
And be as in a fiery furnace tried
Warn them for I have told thee of my love
Bid them prepare my supper to attend
Thou has heard him who cometh from above
Let them receive thee for I am your friend
Though they have scorned the servants that I sent
Year after year within each stubborn breast
Let them give back the vineyard I have lent
Them yet another year to find my rest
And sent my son let them thy word receive
And in The Christ that in thee speaks believe.

I Am the Bread of Life

I am thy life thou shalt upon me feed
And daily eat my flesh and drink my blood
For nothing else than me canst thou have need
Thou art a spirit I the spirit's food
Come eat and thou shalt ask for bread no more
Come drink and thou shalt never thirsting cry again
I shall be in thee an increasing store
A spring forever swollen by the rain
Drink freely thou hast found the stream of life
In deeps where few have sought its healing wave
Thou hast fought well with sin the mortal strife
And hath found him who hath the power to save
Abide in me and I will lead you on
Till you the Father's home in me have won.

The Foe

There is no pause, the day rolls swiftly on;
Hour adds to hour its distance Lord! from Thee;
And soon the light Thou givest will be gone,
And night be here, and none thy coming see;
O bid them wake! sound ye the trumpets! sound!
The foe is on you! haste, he's at the door!
Soon, soon thy limbs will be securely bound,
And you in chains your former sloth deplore;
Wake! wake! there is no time to lose in sleep;
Break from the will that binds you still in sin,
A faithful watch o'er every action keep;
And know the foe that spoils thee is within;
Go back, retrace the steps your feet have trod,
That you may find protection in your God.

Yet Once More

The heavens are shaken! not the solid earth
But the high heavens, the spirit's own abode;
Through the dark souls whence sin springs armed to birth,
The miracle of miracles is showed!
There mountains shake, there breaks a startling voice
Unknown amid its sinful depths before;
The guilty dare not, when it speaks, rejoice;
But fain within its presence would adore;
Fly! fly! it is the spirit's voice you hear,
It is an angel sent to thee from heaven,
To tell thee that the marriage feast is near,
And but a moment's warning can be given;
Oh haste! the robe, the robe of white put on,
E'er that for thee that moment shall be gone.

The Humble

Thou dost exalt the humble; they shall be
Of thine own sons, and Thou shalt bless their lot;
And make them kings and priests to live with Thee,
Though they before had dwelt in poorest cot;
Over its roof Thou watched with tender care,
While they no fear in early childhood knew;
And didst with ready hand each meal prepare,
While they to manlier stature daily grew;
And ever on their steps thine angels wait,
And ever near remain to hear their call;
Though with the lowly vine they grew of late,
Thou shalt exalt them like the cedars tall,
That on thy holy mountain lift their heads
Forever wet with dews thy mercy sheds.

Comfort

Thou gladst my heart but not with oil and wine,
But that Thou dost forgive me when I sin;
And in thy son would make me wholly thine,
That I may find his peace and love within;
Still may I more and more find peace with Thee,
Who hath from infancy my footsteps led;
Till, by his love, from sin and death made free
My feet at length thy heavenly courts shall tread;
Where he a mansion has for me prepared,
With those who trod his thorny path before,
Who have with him thy house already shared,
And at his feast the marriage garment wore;
Oh may I see them when my work is done,
Like them a faithful servant of thy son.

The Guest

I knock, but knock in vain; there is no call
Comes from within to bid me enter there;
The selfish owner sits within his hall,
And will not open, will not hear my prayer;
Blessed is the man that doth my call attend,
And rise with anxious haste to see his guest;
For I to all that hear me am a friend,
And where I enter in that house is blest;
Oh hasten then each mansion to prepare
For him who blesses all that hear his word,
He shall with them his Father's mansion share;
Eye hath not seen, nor mortal ear hath heard
That which the heart that loves the Lord shall see,
When they within the veil with him shall be.

The Eagles

The eagles gather on the place of death
So thick the ground is spotted with their wings,
The air is tainted with the noisome breath
The wind from off the field of slaughter brings;
Alas! no mourners weep them for the slain,
But all unburied lies the naked soul;
The whitening bones of thousands strew the plain,
Yet none can now the pestilence controul;
The eagles gathering on the carcase feed,
In every heart behold their half-formed prey;
The battened wills beneath their talons bleed,
Their iron beaks without remorse must slay;
Till by the sun no more the place is seen,
Where they who worshipped idol gods have been.

Then shall all the tribes of the earth mourn

The day, the day, 'tis changed to darkest night!
There is no beauty in its morning beams,
But men run to and fro within its light
As haunted by the thought of horrid dreams;
They do not speak of what they spoke before,
Nor greet each other now with wonted smile;
Their hearts are pricked within them to the core,
Nor can the sight of aught their pain beguile;
Within their homes they hush the notes of joy,
For like a snare their sorrow has come on;
The slightest burthens now their souls annoy,
And in an instant all their mirth is gone;
For he who long has tarried is at hand,
And comes Himself his vineyard to demand.

Repent for the kingdom of Heaven is at hand

Repent, repent, the day of wrath is near!
Who shall abide the terror of the hour?
Repent, the sun of righteousness is here,
Thou hast no stay save in his rock-built tower;
The rains descend, the tempest speeds its way;
They pour upon the houses built with hands,
That melt before the torrents; walls of clay
Dissolved roll onward with the rolling sands;
Where is the house that stood before secure
With gates and mighty bulwarks lifted high?
It stood not on the strong foundation sure
That rain and tempest's shock can still defy,
And, when the storm around has ceased to roar,
Stand still unmoved where once it stood before.

The Name

The rightful name that thou art called by,
By him who knows thee as thou shouldst be known;
Hast thou e'er learnt it? if not, with me try,
I seek my own and would not be alone;
Though often called, yet I have heard it not,
By better name than men can give to me;
For I the one so called have long forgot,
As seen within a glass, yet knew 'twas he;
Come, let us seek ourselves, that they when found
May be at home to him who knocks without;
And to our names respond with joyful sound,
Nor longer wander here unknown about,
As those whom none know where their lodgings are,
But sleep in barns or in the open air.

The Mourner

How blessed the tears of him who still weeps on,
When he has ceased to feel affliction's rod;
Forgetful that from him the chastening's gone;
His eye beholds in faith his Father, God!
Thy tears are pearls for which the world shall pay;
More precious they than India's valued gold,
Go on in humble mind thy kingly way,
Though oft shall scorch the sun and chill the cold;
Faint not; though travellers few shall bid thee cheer,
Thou know'st the road thy well tried feet have found;
And soon, be thou but strong, shalt thou draw near
The band that death's strong ties to thee have bound;
And ever onward journey thence with them,
And him who leads, the Prince of Bethlehem.

The Giants

The giants, they who walked the earth of old
Are come again to scourge this feeble race;
And weapons long forgot in pride they hold,
To dash to earth your idols in disgrace;
Their armor proof shall be 'gainst sword or spear,
Your strength now lifts to smite a feebler foe;
Your cries for help their ears can never hear,
Nor wounded can their eyes your sufferings know;
Arise! gird on the might that now you waste
On harlots, and in feasting night and day;
Their coming-on shall be with eagles' haste,
As from the heights they dart upon their prey;
That all-unknowing pass their eyries by,
With idle pace and earthward turning eye.

To the Fishermen

Be mending still your nets, and cast not in
While yet they are not strong to hold them all;
For you yourselves will lose some joint or fin,
When one shall draw than you a larger haul;
'Tis not for you as yet to venture far,
Thus young upon the shifting shoreless deep;
But guide thee by the highest risen star,
And still thy boat within its cove thou'lt keep;
Behold the wrecks that line the rocky shore,
Of hulks more stout than thine to meet the wave;
And hear afar the storm's low-muttered roar,
And learn from me thy feebler bark to save;
Who will not tempt in pride time's wind-tost sea,
Till manned with choicest men my ship shall be.

The Sower

To want is there to be where I am not,
Abundance waits for me where'er I tread;
The cares of life in me are all forgot,
I have enough and e'en to spare of bread;
Come, taste, and hunger shall be laid at rest;
And thirst once quenched shall never thirst again;
Thou shalt of all I have be long possest,
And long thy life my body shall sustain;
There are who food will give thee, but 'tis theirs;
And hunger rages but the more 'tis fed;
'Twas made from out the grains of scattered tares,
That through my field by wicked hands were spread,
But thou shalt have the wheat that's sown by me,
And in thy bosom's field new harvests ever see.

Charity

Whate'er thou wouldst receive at others' hands,
Thou first to them must freely give away;
Whether of houses high or spreading lands,
Nought shall be thine till thou hast seen this day;
God gives thee all; but canst thou all receive,
When e'en my little thou dost yet refuse?
No longer then thy brother's spirit grieve,
And thou shalt have yet larger gifts to use;
For in my Father's house do many live,
Who, older far, in love have stronger grown,
And how to them can'st thou e'er learn to give,
Who all The Father hath can call their own?
Give freely then, for all thou givst away
Shall men with added gifts to thee repay.

The Created

There is nought for thee by thy haste to gain;
'Tis not the swift with Me that win the race;
Through long endurance of delaying pain,
Thine opened eye shall see thy Father's face;
Nor here nor there, where now thy feet would turn,
Thou wilt find Him who ever seeks for thee;
But let obedience quench desires that burn,
And where thou art, thy Father too will be!
Behold! as day by day the spirit grows,
Thou see'st by inward light things hid before;
Till what God is, thyself, his image, shows;
And thou dost wear the robe that first thou wore,
When bright with radiance from his forming hand,
He saw thee Lord of all his creatures stand.

To All

Thou know'st not e'er the way to turn or go,
For He whom man would follow turneth not;
Enough for thee that thou thy Lord mayst know,
And canst not for a moment be forgot;
His way is hidden that thine eye may seek,
And in the seeking thou thyself may find;
His voice unheard that thou may'st learn to speak,
His eye unseen to show thee thou art blind;
Then haste thee on, his hidden path explore;
And purge thine ear that thou mayst hear his voice;
Unseal thine eye to him who walks before,
And that thou hast a friend unseen in me rejoice;
And follow on though now thy feet may tread,
Where clouds still hang above the unnumbered dead.

The Unrevealed

Hast thou stolen aught from hunger, or in thirst
Withheld the water-cup from thy parched lips,
That thou mightest speak the blessed words of hope
And joy; thou shalt not lack reward. Loosened
Thy tongue shall with sweet-flowing sounds surprize
The ear of sense; another than thyself
Will be seen within to have come, and bringing
Music tones from other spheres to have made
Thee ever the harp of hidden minstrelsy. Forms
Of heaven as seen descending on the eye
Shall strike, giving to that men cannot see
A place and name amongst earth's dying sons.

Sayings

The world looks not the wider for thy travel,
But stand thou still, and look around; as far
From pole to pole, from east to west it lies,
Stretching with varied rise and fall, as when
With wearied feet thou has found out the utmost
Bound of sea and sky. Be wise; travel with
The bright clouds above thee, they are journeying,
Journey too; grow there green trees beside thee
As thou walkest, grow with them; finding one
Common Father on thy way, nor hope an earth
Made wider by thy search, nor things more bright
And fair than such as ever like angels
Watch around the steps of one, who in God's
Path begins and ends the journey of each day.

The Prisoner

All men around me running to and fro
Are finding life in what to me is death;
I have no limbs that where I please will go,
Nor voice that when I wish will find a breath;
Here, where I stand, my feet take fixed root;
This way or that I cannot even move;
A prisoner, ever bound both hand and foot,
While I a slave to mine own choice would prove;
'Tis hard to wait, but grant me thus set free;
And they; how narrow their short bounded lot!
My sun the centre of their worlds will be,
In systems moving where they shine forgot;
Their rays too feebly twinkling through the night,
Where I shall shine with all day's lustre bright.

Eternal Life

My life as yet is but an infant's walk,
With tottering steps and words half-uttered slow;
But I shall soon in nobler accents talk,
And grown to manlier stature, firmer go;
I shall go out and in and pasture find
In him who leads me safe forever on;
The spirit's fetters then shall I unbind,
And sin from me forever shall be gone;
Eternal life will be the gift bestowed,
By him who loved us while yet dead in sin;
Such love forever from the Father flowed,
But we were not prepared the crown to win;
Oh bless his name, who calls us on to heaven;
And him in whom the promises are given.

Unto you is born a Saviour

Rejoice a child is born a son is given
By Him who giveth all things to the earth
Sing loud ye saints that fill the courts of heaven
Proclaim with welcome sound the infant's birth
The star the wise men saw has led him on
Unto the spot where now the babe is lain
Rejoice the darkness from his sight has flown
For he the serpent through the Lamb has slain
He shall not hunger more rejoice ye stars
Nor thirst for he the living brook has found
He comes to break of sin the prison bars
And scatter joy and hope his path around
He comes to give the world his promised peace
With joys unknown, that nevermore shall cease.

The Redeemed

I bear the prints of my ascended Lord,
Ye cannot part me now, for I am pure;
And hear, forever hear his holy word,
And shall forever in the Truth endure;
Behold the love the Father hath for me,
That He should call his son a child of earth;
And from the guilt of sin forever free,
And bid me know in Him a purer birth;
Come, worship with me on the holy hill,
Come, be a brother with a brother's love;
He will our hearts with deeper rapture fill,
And we though here shall taste his joy above;
And in our midst, though here, our Lord shall be,
And we, while here on earth, his face shall see.

Hallowed be thy Name

Thy name be hallowed, e'en thy Holy name,
That dwells forever on thy children's tongue;
On earth may all thy saints its praise proclaim,
As in thy heavens Thou art forever sung;
Thou art forever worthy! Thou art king!
The Great, All Holy, ever righteous Lord!
Let all thy children praise and homage bring,
And in their song let every note accord;
Praise Him! for He is great, his praise prolong
On every harp ye strike around his throne;
Join every living voice! come join the song,
What praise can all your Father's goodness own;
Come, throw your crowns and garlands at his feet,
And his new name let every tongue repeat.

To him who overcometh

To him who overcometh I will give
The starry crown, the heavenly-sounding lyre;
Within my Father's presence he shall live,
His love shall overflow thy soul's desire;
Come, strip thee of the garments thou hast worn,
While on the earth thou wrought for Him in me;
Take off thy raiments, they are soiled and torn,
Behold, the wedding robe prepared for thee;
Come, put it on; thy brothers ready wait,
And ask why tarry still thy feet without;
Thou shalt be with them, though thou comest late;
Hark! hear, within they raise the welcome shout,
To hail thee brother born, a son like them,
In mine own Vine a new and fruitful stem.

The Children

I saw, strange sight! the children sat at meat,
When they their Parent's face had never known;
Nor rose they when they heard his step to greet,
But feasted there upon his gifts alone;
'Twas morn, and noon, and evening hour the same;
They heeded not 'twas He who gave them bread;
For they had not yet learned to call his name,
They had been children, but they now were dead;
Yet still their Father, with a father's care,
Early and late stood waiting by their board;
Hoping each hour that they his love would share,
And at his table sit to life restored;
Alas! for many a day and year I stood
And saw them feasting thus yet knew not Him how good.

The New Man

The hands must touch and handle many things,
The eyes long waste their glances all in vain;
The feet course still in idle, mazy rings,
E'er man himself, the lost, shall back regain;
The hand that ever moves, the eyes that see,
While day holds out his shining lamp on high,
And strait as flies the honey-seeking bee,
Direct the feet to unseen flowers they spy,
These, when they come, the man revealed from heaven,
Shall labor all the day in quiet rest,
And find at eve the covert duly given,
Where with the bird they find sweet sleep and rest;
That shall their wasted strength to health restore,
And bid them seek the morn the hills and fields once more.

The Veil of the Temple

'Tis rent, the veil that parts the spirit world;
Behold the temple of the Living God!
The Foe who tempted once to earth is hurled,
By him who wields on earth the iron rod;
Rejoice, the peace he gave on earth begins!
Hark, from the lowly vale the strains arise,
Rejoice, the Savior comes he frees from sins!
The dumb man speaks, he touches sightless eyes
And Lo the scales fall off, the spirit sees
Within the veil the mysteries of the dead;
Bow down ye mighty! bow the stubborn knees!
'Tis on the borders of that land ye tread,
Where you must see the earth's ascended king,
Before whose presence bows each living thing.

The Holy of Holies

I cannot show thee that for which I live,
Nor mortal eye hath seen, nor ear hath heard
That which the Christ to those who live will give,
In the rich presence of the Living Word;
Go, cleanse thy soul, blot out the secret sin,
Put off thy shoes for this is holy ground;
And thou shalt see the kingdom come within,
And in its holy precincts too be found;
Awake, thou hast long filled the holy place
With idols that thy heart has lifted high,
From My pure temple every daemon chase,
Then to thy spirit will My soul draw nigh;
And thou shalt be my son, and I thy God
To lead thee in the way thy Master trod.

The Brethren

For we are all His offspring, why deny
The hand of love He bade thee to me give?
Why turn from me, who in the spirit cry,
That thou wouldst share thy Father's love and live?
Let not between us rise the mountain chain,
That with its icy cliffs divides the earth;
For we are brothers, let us so remain;
Alike the offspring of a heavenly birth;
Invite me to thy feast, a richer board
Than for thee of the Father I prepare;
Thou wilt not in thy breast his treasure hoard,
But send for those who may thy supper share;
If thou hast tasted that the Lord is good,
Thou wilt not hold from me my daily food.

The Prodigal

Where hast thou been my brother? thou art torn,
But scarce the rags conceal thy naked soul;
Thou art from desert still to desert borne,
Nor yet has learned love's yielding, soft controul;
Come, let me o'er thee cast this garment white,
Strip off the filthy rags the world has given;
The son has sent me, that I may invite
The weary to his marriage feast in heaven;
Oh come, for there is all thou want'st prepared,
The flowing bowl that cannot ever dry,
The bread of life with him who died is shared;
Oh come, thou wilt not my request deny,
And wander on in thorny paths to bleed,
And on the husks thou feedest ever feed.

The Fig Tree

Thou wilt not give me aught though I am poor,
And ask with shivering limbs and hungry cry;
And thinkst that I the winter can endure,
And thou dost not my spirit's wants deny;
But thou art poor; for thou hast nought to give
Of that which is both meat and drink to me;
Thou bidst me on the husks thou feedest live,
And with the rags thou wear'st in comfort be;
The figs my Father bade me on thee seek,
I taste not from thy thorns and brambles high;
He made thee strong, I find thee poor and weak;
He made thee rich, yet thou must of me buy;
Who am but blind, and yet to thee can see;
A servant still, and yet to thee am free.

The Branch

Thou bidst me change with every changing hour,
A new formed gift to bless the hungry poor;
For Thou through Christ has blest me with the power
To bear the fruits that shall for them endure;
In him may I grow stronger day by day,
A vigorous branch abiding in thy vine;
That men may pluck thereof and eating say,
“These grapes, O Father, these are wholly thine”
Then shall the clusters Thou dost love to see,
With every season changing face the sun;
And men rejoice beneath my shade to be,
When day with all the toils it brings is done;
And I in Christ shall be forever blest,
To give them at its close thy holy rest.

Not as the World giveth

Thy gifts are not the gifts that others give,
For Thou art kind unto them when they pray;
And giv'st them bread on which their souls can live,
Nor with a serpent sendst them poor away;
The more they eat of all thy hand supplies,
The more thy peace within abundant grows,
Till all that is not thine forever dies,
And heaven alone the perfect spirit knows;
Then shall thy children ever find employ,
In acts thy love has taught their hands to do;
Each loved by Thee shall swell the other's joy,
And every secret prayer be brought to view;
By Thee who dwellst in secret, and will bring
Into the light of life each hidden thing.

The Good Gift

Whate'er I ask I know I have from Thee,
My Father, for Thou lovest me thy child;
And would my spirit from his bondage free,
Who first my infant feet from Thee beguiled;
But Thou has taught me all his snares to shun,
And in thy precepts walk forever sure;
And when thy will on earth in Christ is done
Thou wilt admit me to thy presence pure;
Where he who has betrayed me cannot stand,
For Thou hast placed the gulf of love between;
And he who knows not of the new command,
Cannot his robes in water ever clean;
They must within the Lamb's own blood be dyed,
That flows for me and all forever from his side.

History

The History that thou hast never known,
That is not on the record lying book;
But by the light thou givest only shown,
Canst thou on this, the truest page yet look?
Then mayst thou leave all others; this the leaf,
The healing leaf from off the tree of Life;
It is not numbered by Time's cyphers brief,
It higher dates than counts thy mortal strife;
Its pages are the Scriptures; never read
Till closed the eye that dust-soiled letters pores,
And he who saw's forgotten with the dead;
Then opes The Book Divine its heavenly stores,
Its times man's living eras; still the same
While burns within of God the sun-lit flame.

The Spirit Land

Open our eyes that we the world may see,
Open our ears that we Thy Voice may hear,
And in the Spirit-Land may ever be,
And feel Thy Presence with us always near.
No more to wander 'mid the things of time,
No more to suffer death or earthly change;
But with the Christian's joy & faith sublime
Thro' all Thy vast, eternal scenes to range.
Tho' now against me beats the raging blast,
And o'er my head in scornful triumph rides
Soon soon the winter's bondage shall be past,
To him who in the Savior's love confides

Thy Father's House

Thou are not yet at home; perhaps thy feet
Are on the threshold of thy father's door,
But still thy journey is not there complete,
If thou canst add to it but one step more;
'Tis not thy house which thou with feet can reach,
'Tis where when wearied they will enter not;
But stop beneath an earthly roof, where each
May for a time find comfort in his lot;
Then called to wander soon again must mourn,
That such frail shelter they should call relief;
And onward seek again that distant bourne,
The home of all the family of grief,
Whose doors by day and night stand open wide
For all who enter there shall evermore abide.

Jacob's Well

Thou prayst not, save when in thy soul thou prayst;
Disrobing of thyself to clothe the poor;
The words thy lips shall utter then, thou sayst,
They are as marble, and they shall endure;
Pray always; for on prayer the hungry feed;
Its sound is hidden music to the soul,
From low desires the rising strains shall lead,
And willing captives own thy just controul;
Draw not too often on the gushing spring,
But rather let its own o'erflowings tell,
Where the cool waters rise, and thither bring
Those who more gladly then will hail the well;
When gushing from within new streams like thine,
Shall bid them ever drink and own its source divine.

The Day of Denial

Are there not twelve whole hours in every day
The sun upon thy dial marks for toil;
How is it some but five, some seven say,
And some among you of the whole make spoil?
Thinkst thou to gain by taking from your life,
By dying many hours to live the more?
Dost thou not see the suicidal knife,
Made hour by hour yet redder in thy gore?
The day! the living day! how soon tis night,
With him who rises not till near its noon;
His candle lit for many hours to light,
Put out e'er yet he learned to prize the boon;
How dark his darkness, who till latest eve
Still slumbers on nor then his couch will leave!

Spiritual Darkness

A darkness, like the middle of the night,
Clouds in the morn, and e'en the mid-day hours;
Men wander round, as if devoid of sight,
Or led astray by false, deluding powers!
The wise knew not its coming, nor can tell
Whence fell this darkness, like a plague on all;
In vain they seek by knowledge to dispel
The gloom, that shrouds the earth as with a pall.
So, in eclipse, the sun withdraws his light,
Or sheds a pale, and ineffectual ray;
The flowers close up, as at the approach of night,
And men, bewildered, wander from their way;
The stars appear, and with faint lustre burn,
Watching, from their far heights, the sun's return.

The New World

The night that has no star lit up by God,
The day that round men shines who still are blind,
The earth their grave-turned feet for ages trod,
And sea swept over by His mighty wind;
All these have passed away; the melting dream
That flitted o'er the sleeper's half-shut eye,
When touched by morning's golden-darting beam;
And he beholds around the earth and sky
That ever real stands; the rolling spheres,
And heaving billows of the boundless main,
That show though time is past no trace of years,
And earth restored he sees as his again;
The earth that fades not, and the heavens that stand;
Their strong foundations laid by God's right hand!

The Word

The voice that speaks when thou art in thy tomb,
And spoke before thou sawst the morning light;
This is the Word! of all that is the womb,
Of all that see the never failing sight;
Speechless yet ever speaking, none can hear
The man grown silent in the praise of God;
For they within him live, to hope and fear;
They walk and speak, but he the grass-green sod;
Its presence round them calls them hence to It,
A Voice too great for murmur or reproof;
A sun that shines till they are of it lit,
Itself the utterance of Eternal Truth;
Perfect, without a blemish; never found
Save through the veil that wraps thy being round.

The Field and Wood

Whence didst thou spring, or art thou yet unborn;
Who treadst with slighting foot so swift along,
Where near thee rises green the bladed corn,
And from the tree pours forth the bird's new song?
Thy heart is ever fluttering, ne'er at rest;
A bird that e'er would soar with wily art,
Yet when she seems of what she wished possest,
She feels the strength from out her wings depart;
Learn wisdom from the sweet delaying voice,
And from its melody turn not thine ear;
With springing grain in slow decay rejoice,
And thou at one shall be with all things here;
And thy desires that now o'er-top the grain,
Shall with its growth a life like theirs sustain.

The Apostles

The words that come unuttered by the breath,
Looks without eyes, these lighten all the globe;
They are the ministering angels, sent where Death
Has walked so long the earth in seraph's robe;
See crowding to their touch the groping blind!
And ears long shut to sound are bent to hear,
Quick as they speak the lame new vigor find,
And language to the dumb man's lips is near;
Hail sent to us, ye servants of high heaven!
Unseen save by the humble and the poor;
To them glad tidings have your voices given;
For them their faith has wrought the wished for cure;
And ever shall they witness bear of you,
That he who sent you forth to heal was true.

The House

I build a house, but in this 'twill appear;
That I have built it not, a shining forth
Of that bright palace that from year to year
New pillars has and domes from my own worth;
The wondrous hand that forms it; in the sea,
In crystal depths fashions the coral pile,
The sun-lit roof that o'er our heads we see,
Earth's grassy plain that stretches mile on mile;
'Tis round me like the morning's presence, felt
As that in which apart I live from all;
A zone that girds me like Orion's belt,
That I be seen the more on that bright wall,
Where all, as golden constellations, shine
With their own light, yet lit with Light Divine.

The Tenant

This Morn

The Call

The Prayer

The Bride

My Garden

The Unripe Fruit

The Immortal

The Serving-Man

The Cottage

The Still-Born

To-Day

The Withered Tree

The Hour

The Old Road

The Fair Morning

The clear bright morning, with its scented air,
And gaily waving flowers, is here again;
Man's heart is lifted with the voice of prayer,
And peace descends as falls the gentle rain;
The tuneful birds that all the night have slept,
Take up at dawn the evening's dying lay;
When sleep upon their eyelids gently crept,
And stole with stealthy craft their song away;
High overhead the forest's swaying boughs,
Sprinkle with drops of dew the whistling boy;
As to the field he early drives his cows
More than content with this his low employ;
And shall not joy uplift me when I lead,
The flocks of Christ by the still streams to feed?

The Clouded Morning

The morning comes; and thickening fogs prevail,
Hanging like curtains all the horizon round;
And o'er the head in heavy stillness sad;
So still is day, it seems like night profound;
But see! the mists are stirring, rays of light
Pierce through the haze as struggling to be free,
The circle round grows every moment bright,
The sun is breaking forth, 'tis he, 'tis he;
Quick from before him flies each sluggish cloud,
His rays have touched the stream, have climbed the hill;
The sounds of life increase, all blending loud;
The hum of men, nor smallest thing is still;
But all have found a voice, and hail their king,
The words of man's high praise, and bird with fluttering wing.

The Plagues of Egypt

The Dark Day

A darkness like the middle of the night
Clouds in the morn and e'en the mid-day hours;
Men wander round as if devoid of sight,
Or led astray by false deluding powers;
The wise knew not its coming, nor can tell
Whence fell this blackness like a plague on all;
Nor will it yield to e'en their strongest spell;
Nor heed their gods though on their names they call;
The hand that spread the veil alone dispels,
For this alone obeys the all-seeing God;
The night that fell where sin in splendor dwells,
Shall flee again when waves the obedient rod;
As mists that from the low, damp earth will fly,
When gains the sun upon the eastern sky.

The Removal

When he who owns a house has come to thee,
And begs you move, for he must enter in;
Dost thou not pay, when asked, his little fee,
And for thy journeying hence right quick begin?
But I, when I have come: who own no land,
Nor houses built of wood, or wrought of stone;
Why dost thou waiting and uncertain stand,
As if the house I let was not my own?
“I have been here so long it seems like mine,”
Thou sayst; “but still the more ought thou to leave;”
“My children here were born; can I resign”
“My all, and thou a stranger too?” “believe”
“And thou canst do it; and I grant yet more”
“A better house for thine I will restore.”

The Rain

The rain descends; each drop some drooping flowers,
Or parched blade drinks in with grateful haste;
Nor is there from the plenteous falling shower,
A drop that nature will permit to waste;
The river swells beneath the pattering rain,
And as a seine its face is dotted o'er;
It falls not on the barren path in vain,
But drunken quick it asks to have yet more;
Nor think that where the pool untasted stands,
As if its life refused the sullen earth;
That there the wave is spilt upon the sands,
To-morrow's sun shall see the duck's rude mirth;
As there it sails or drinks with snuffling bill,
Rejoiced that there is spared its thirst with theirs to fill.

The Frost

The frost is out amid our open fields,
And late within the woods I marked his track;
The unwary flower his icy fingers feels,
And at their touch the crisped leaf rolls back.
Look, how the maple, o'er a sea of green,
Waves in the autumnal wind its flag of red!
First struck of all the forest's spreading screen,
Most beauteous, too, thou earliest of her dead!
Go on; thy task is kindly meant by him,
Whose is each flower, and richly covered bough;
And though the leaves hang dead on every limb,
Still will I praise his love; that early now
Has sent before this herald of decay,
To bid me heed the approach of winter's sterner day.

Autumn Days

The winds are out with loud increasing shout,
Where late before them walked the biting frost;
Whirling the leaves in their wild sport about,
And strewing twig and limb our path acrost;
But still the sun looks kindly on the year,
And days of summer warmth will linger yet;
And still the birds amid the fields we hear,
For the ripe grain and scattered seeds they get;
The shortening days grow slowly less and less,
And winter comes with many a warning on;
And still some day with kindly smile will bless,
Till the last hope's deceit is fledged and gone;
Before the deepening snows block up the way,
And the sweet fields are made of howling blasts the prey.

Autumn Leaves

The leaves though thick are falling; one by one
Decayed they drop from off their parent tree;
Their work with autumn's latest day is done,
Thou see'st them borne upon its breezes free;
They lie strown here and there, their many dyes
That yesterday so caught thy passing eye;
Soiled by the rain each leaf neglected lies,
Upon the path where now thou hurriest by;
Yet think thee not their beauteous tints less fair,
Than when they hung so gaily o'er thy head;
But rather find thee eyes, and look thee there
Where now thy feet so heedless o'er them tread;
And thou shalt see where wasting now they lie,
The unseen hues of immortality.

The Lost Sheep

The Shepherd's Life

The Good Samaritan

The Birds of Passage

The Feast

The Ramble

The plants that careless grow shall flower and bud,
When wilted stands man's nicely tended flower;
E'en on the unsheltered waste, or pool's dark mud,
Spring bells and lilies fit for ladies' bower;
Come with me, I will show you where they grow;
The tangled vines and boughs come push aside;
O'er yonder hill top's craggy side we go,
Then by the path beyond we downward slide;
See by yond pond where few but travellers pass,
Each lily opens wide its curious cup;
And here where now we track the unmown grass,
The wild-heath bell surprised is looking up,
To view the strangers that thus far have sought
The flowers that in fair nature's robe are wrought.

The Barberry Bush

The bush which bears most briars, and bitter fruit,
Wait till the frost has turned its green leaves red,
Its sweetened berries will thy palate suit,
And thou may'st find, e'en there, a homely bread.
Upon the hills of Salem, scattered wide,
Their yellow blossoms gain the eye in Spring;
And straggling down upon the turnpike's side,
Their ripened bunches to your hand they bring.
I've plucked them oft in boyhood's early hour,
What then I gave such name, and thought it true;
But now I know, that other fruit, as sour,
Grows on what now thou callest Me, and You;
Yet, wilt thou wait the Autumn that I see,
'Twill sweeter taste than these red berries be.

The Hand and the Foot

The hand and foot that stir not, they shall find
Sooner than all the rightful place to go;
Now in their motion free as roving wind,
Though first no snail so limited and slow;
I mark them full of labor all the day,
Each active motion made in perfect rest;
They cannot from their path mistaken stray,
Though 'tis not theirs, yet in it they are blest;
The bird has not their hidden track found out,
Nor cunning fox though full of art he be;
It is the way unseen, the certain route,
Where ever bound, yet thou art ever free;
The path of Him, whose perfect law of love
Bids spheres and atoms in just order move.

The Eye and Ear

Thou readest, but each lettered word can give
Thee but the sound that thou first gave to it;
Thou lookest on the page, things move and live
In light thine eye and thine alone has lit;
Ears are there yet unstopped, and eyes unclosed,
That see and hear as in one common day;
When they which present see have long reposed,
And he who hears has mouldered too to clay;
These ever see and hear; they are in Him,
Who speaks, and all is light; how dark before!
Each object throws aside its mantle dim,
That hid the starry robe that once it wore;
And shines full-born disclosing all that is,
Itself by all things seen and owned as His.

The Sunset

Yourself

'Tis to yourself I speak; you cannot know
Him whom I call in speaking such an one,
For thou beneath the earth liest buried low,
Which he alone as living walks upon;
Thou mayst at times have heard him speak to you,
And often wished perchance that you were he;
And I must ever wish that it were true,
For then thou couldst hold fellowship with me;
But now thou hearst us talk as strangers, met
Above the room wherein thou liest abed;
A word perhaps loud spoken thou mayst get,
Or hear our feet when heavily they tread;
But he who speaks, or him who's spoken to,
Must both remain as strangers still to you.

Thy Better Self

I am thy other self, what thou wilt be,
When thou art I, the one thou seest now;
In finding thy true self thou wilt find me,
The springing blade, where now thou dost but plough.
I am thy neighbor, a new house I've built,
Which thou as yet hast never entered in;
I come to call thee; come in when thou wilt,
The feast is always ready to begin.
Thou should'st love me, as thou dost love thyself,
For I am but another self beside;
To show thee him thou lov'st in better health,
What thou would'st be, when thou to him hast died;
Then visit me, I make thee many a call;
Nor live I near to thee alone, but all.

The Glutton

The bread thou eatest thou canst never know,
That sums untold could never buy thee such;
Or to thy Father's board thou wouldst not go,
With hasty hands his gifts as now to clutch;
The bread thus eaten, it can never feed;
Save the lost life that thus in haste is stole;
Thou drinkest, but of more must soon have need;
'Tis not the fount of life that fills the bowl;
Thou art not there where spreads the kind repast,
But thine own will is guest where thou shouldst be;
And that which was but born in thee to fast,
Has bid thee serve that should from bonds be free;
And thou a servant wait'st where thou mightst sit,
While sin's foul carrion-bird upon thy dish has lit.

The Day not for Gain

When comes the sun to visit thee at morn,
Art thou prepared to give him welcome then?
Or is the day, that with his light is born,
With thee, a day that has already been.
Hast thou filled up its yet unnumbered hours
With selfish thoughts, and made them now thine own?
Then not for thee will bloom its budding flowers,
The day, to thee, has past, and onward flown.
The noon may follow with its quickening heat,
The grain grow yellow in its ripening rays;
And dusky evening mark the noon's retreat,
Yet thou as dead to them live all thy days;
For thou hast made of God's free gifts a gain,
And would'st the sovereign Day, a slave, in bonds retain.

The World

The House Not Made With Hands, Eternal In The Heavens

The Broken Bowl

The Bunch of Flowers

Hymn

Home

The Ghost

The Seasons

The Silent

The Way

To good thou ask'st the way—enter the street,
This is the broad high-way that many tread;
Go follow him whom first thine eye shall meet,
Here is his store, go in; behold thy bread;
Thou turn'st away; well, follow him whose ship
Has just returned deep-laden from afar;
Look, see his face how gladdened at the trip.
Is there aught here the good thou seek'st to mar?
Still as thou trackest one and all thou find'st it not;
Then learn that all are seekers here below;
And let the lesson never be forgot,
That none the path to happiness can show,
Save He whose way is hidden; only known
To those who seek his love, and his alone.

The Sun

Where has the sun a home? didst thou e'er trace
His course when sinking in the distant west,
And see him there begin anew his race,
As if of new-born strength again possest?
Or didst thou leave him in the western skies,
Where late his setting glories called thee on;
Nor follow on with still admiring eyes,
Another earth to bless where he has gone?
Stay not where night shuts in on all who sleep,
Faint travellers on the path he onward trod;
But on his beams a waking eye still keep,
The daily herald sent to thee from God;
And thou when many suns thy year has known,
Shall rise with him his brightness all thine own.

The Worm

The Watcher

He comes at dead of night, when all asleep
Are sunk in nature's most profound repose;
No eye can then its watchful vigil keep,
Nor hears there one, though loud HIS frequent blows;
I was a Watcher, whom the hours o'ercame,
And heavy slumber weighed my eyelids down;
A sleep like death oppressed my weary frame,
I fell, a traitor to my own renown;
Yet HE who called me, HE was faithful still;
I heard at length HIS knocking loud and long,
And hastened then my dying lamp to fill,
And ope the door with bolts and hinges strong;
That he who bid me wake might enter in,
And I anew with him the watch begin.

The Physician

There is a body, every joint and limb
Is still, yet moves by God's all-holy law;
The eye turns here and there, yet turns in him,
The ear no sound but his own words can draw;
Its voice the long-stopped ear obedient hears,
The withered hand outstretched its bidding owns,
And they who mourn the dead dry up their tears,
The prison walls hear not their captive's groans;
Through the wide world of living death it brings
A new-born life wherever it walks abroad;
Such as beneath the feet of May up springs
When forth she steps where Winter late has trod;
And at her coming starts the palsied year,
That slumbers on though summer months are near.

The Miser

How much there is within this rich abode,
Thou pass'st uncared for by and call'st it thine;
Forever straying from the narrow road,
'Mid heaven's own joys, yet still for heaven to pine;
The light that comes to thee thou had'st before;
The gold shines not within the miser's hand,
But he already sighs to have yet more;
What thou just gave him,—'twas his house and land;
Turn where thou wilt,—alas! where canst thou turn,
Who goest before as though already there;—
Turn where thou wilt, thou dost each blessing spurn;
Who cares for nought how little feels he care,
Though all the day sweet angels hovering near,
Are sent his onward path with their glad news to cheer.

The Spheres

The Builders

Give and it shall be given unto you.

Spiritual Debtors

The Laborers

The workman shall not always work; who builds,
His house shall finish with the last-raised stone;
The last small measure full the vessel fills;
The last step taken and thy journey's done;
But where is he, who but one hour ago,
Lifted with toiling arm the burthen nigh;
And he whose vessel to the brim did flow,
Or he who laid his staff and sandals by?
I see them still at work another way,
From those that late thou sawest thus employed;
And heard them each unto the other say,
As to new tasks they bent them overjoyed,
“The sun is rising, haste! that he may see,
When setting, every hand from labor free.”

The Unfaithful Servants

Thou hast no other hands than those that toil,
In other tasks than what thou giv'st them now;
For these thou hast the others' work but spoil,
They idly tear the ground that these would plough;
They have been long employed, and learnt them arts,
The others know and yet were never taught;
False actors saying to themselves their parts,
Till they the gait and living tone have caught;
'Tis but a show, these buildings that they rear,
Card-fabrics overblown with every breath;
Their mightiest labor, things that but appear;
An out-seen world; begat of thee by death,
When first thine eye began to cease to see,
And made; when first thy hand forgot a hand to be.

The Thieves

The Strangers

The Light from Within

[Thou know'st not what thy Lord will say]

The Good

The Distant

A Word

The Settler

When thou art done thy toil, anew art born;
With hands that never touched the spade or plough,
Nor in the furrows strewed the yellow corn,
Or plucked the ripened fruit from off the bough:
Then shall thou work begin;—thy plough and spade
Shall break at early morn the virgin soil;
The swelling hill and thickly wooded glade
With changing aspect own the daily toil;
Thy house shall strike the eye, where none are near,
For thou hast travelled far, where few have trod;
And those who journey hence will taste thy cheer,
And bless thee as a favored one of God;
For He it was who in this pathless wild,
Upon thy good intent so richly smiled.

The Dwellings of the Just

Death

Men live and die in secret; none can see
When going out or lighting up the flame,
Save the all-seeing eye;—frail mortals, we
Call death and life what are but so in name;
Death is that shunning Him who bids thee die,
Which thou but disobedience learnst to call;
Words cannot hide thee from the searching eye,
That sees thy corse beneath their sable pall;
And life the lifting up that thou dost feel,
When thy feet follow where he bids thee go;
A life beyond disease, or severing steel,
That nought but him who gives it, fears below;
This be thy life, and death shall flee away,
For thou hast learned for ever to obey.

The Birth-Day of the Soul

The birth-day of the Soul how sweet its dawn!
It comes to me, and yet for all it is;
Upon the skies its colored form is drawn,
The green earth says 'tis hers, the sea 'tis his;
The voice of feathered tribes thick-swarming tell
The day is born to fields and waiting grove,
The meadow's song and forest's rising swell
Are heard by gladsome winds that o'er them rove.
'Tis music all;—but higher song than these
Bears witness also to the day's glad birth;
They but the ear of sense a moment please;
The song I hear is not of sense, or earth;
But such as waiting angels joyful sing,
When from its wanderings home a soul they bring.

The Bee Hive

Time's House

The stones of time's old house with pelting storms,
That on it long have beat from day to day,
Are loose; the door is gone, and smoke deforms
The boards within and walls of plastered clay;
Long have his children strove to keep it whole;
By many a wile he's taught them to make good,
The waste that creeping years have from it stole,
And long its walls the ruin have withstood;
But now within and out the storms assail.
Its beams rock to and fro with every gust;
And fears o'er cherished hopes at last prevail,
Nor longer to its threatening roof they'll trust;
But cease to patch each rent with jealous care,
And learn at last to live beneath the open air.

The Fox and the Bird

Faith and Light

The Word

The Absent

Thou art not yet at home in thine own house,
But to one room I see thee now confined;
Having one hole like rat or skulking mouse,
And as a mole to all the others blind;
Does the great Day find preference when he shines
In at each window lighting every room?
No selfish wish the moon's bright glance confines,
And each in turn the stars' faint rays illume;
Within thy sleeping room thou dost abide,
And thou the social parlor dost prefer;
Another thou wilt in the cupboard hide,
And this or that's the room for him or her;
But the same sun, and moon with silver face
Look in on all, and lighten every place.

The Pilgrim

'Twas in the winter at the close of day,
The snow fell deep upon the traveller's path,
I saw one journeying on infirm and grey
Yet seemed he not to heed the tempest's wrath;
And oft a citizen would ask him in
And sit him down beside him at his board,
Yet soon his weary march would he begin
As if he felt not by the food restored;
I wondering asked him, why he tarried not
To taste the cheer they had so freely given;
And why the sheltering roof he had forgot?
He nothing said; but pointed up to heaven;—
And then I knew the food they gave away,
And home they offered were but for a day.

The Idler

I idle stand that I may find employ,
Such as my Master when He comes will give;
I cannot find in mine own work my joy,
But wait, although in waiting I must live;
My body shall not turn which way it will,
But stand till I the appointed road can find,
And journeying so his messages fulfill,
And do at every step the work designed.
Enough for me, still day by day to wait
Till Thou who form'st me find'st me too a task;
A cripple lying at the rich man's gate,
Content for the few crumbs I get to ask;
A laborer but in heart, while bound my hands
Hang idly down still waiting thy commands.

The Lost

The fairest day that ever yet has shone,
Will be when thou the day within shalt see;
The fairest rose that ever yet has blown,
When thou the flower thou lookest on shalt be.
But thou art far away among Time's toys;
Thyself the day thou lookest for in them,
Thyself the flower that now thine eye enjoys,
But wilted now thou hang'st upon thy stem.
The bird thou hearest on the budding tree,
Thou hast made sing with thy forgotten voice;
But when it swells again to melody,
The song is thine in which thou wilt rejoice;
And thou new risen 'midst these wonders live,
That now to them dost all thy substance give.

The Narrow Way

Where this one dwells and that, thou know'st it well,
Each earthly neighbor and each earthly friend;
But He who calls thee has no place to dwell,
And canst thou then thine all unto Him lend?
Canst thou a stranger be, where now well known;
Where now thou oftenest go'st, go nevermore,
But walk the world thenceforth thy way alone,
Broadening the path but little worn before?
Then may'st thou find me, when thou 't faint and weak,
And the strait road seems narrower still to grow;
For I will words of comfort to thee speak,
And onward with thee to my home I'll go,
Where thou shalt find a rest in labor sweet,
No friend and yet a friend in all to greet.

The True Light

The morning's brightness cannot make thee glad,
If thou art not more bright than it within;
And nought of evening's peace hast thou e'er had,
If evening first did not with thee begin.
Full many a sun I saw first set and rise,
Before my day had found a rising too;
And I with Nature learned to harmonize,
And to her times and seasons made me true.
How fair that new May morning when I rose
Companion of the sun for all the day;
O'er every hill and field where now he goes,
With him to pass, nor fear again to stray;
But 'neath the full-orbed moon's reflected light
Still onward keep my way till latest night.

The Invitation

Stay where thou art, thou need'st not further go,
The flower with me is pleading at thy feet;
The clouds, the silken clouds, above me flow,
And fresh the breezes come thy cheek to greet.
Why hasten on;—hast thou a fairer home?
Has God more richly blest the world than here,
That thou in haste would'st from thy country roam,
Favored by every month that fills the year?
Sweet showers shall on thee here, as there, descend;
The sun salute thy morn and gild thy eve:
Come, tarry here, for Nature is thy friend,
And we an arbor for ourselves will weave;
And many a pilgrim, journeying on as thou,
Will grateful bless its shade, and list the wind-struck bough.

The Sick

Where thou hast been once well received,
There thou shouldst often go again;
That so, of every want relieved,
Joy may find birth in buried pain.
I knew one, but his heart was weak,
Who went when keen was sorrow's smart;
And well a moment, would not seek
The hand that touched with healing art;
I knew another; he was wise;
Nor felt he of his wounds made strong,
Till he could from his couch arise,
And walk with him who cured along:
Which art thou, friend? for oft the first
Will call the better one the worst.

The Flesh

The Flesh bears early fruit; most eat of it,
And many die who eat e'en that too soon;
They fade like flowers the morning's sunbeam lit,
But wilted fall before the heat of noon;
Behold the friends and children born to be
But blossoms overtaken by the frost;
Put forth ere in the limbs the sap ran free,
Or spring gave signs that winter's strength was lost;
See houses fires and creeping age consume,
And fields the weed and thistle boast as theirs;
These, blazing up, the night's dark face illume,
And those, the garden whence they reap but tares.
Alas! how soon have vanished those the eye
Looked fondly on; green fields and houses high!

Decay

The New Sea

I heard the sound of the wild, heaving sea,
Its billows had rolled on unheard before,
For to some vainly-fancied thing I had given
The name, that gentile nations worship as
A God. But now I heard without deceit
Surges that ever roll; the deep below
Answering with awful voice the deep above!
[OMITTED]
The sea was past; the waters met,
And o'er the heads of Pharaoh's hosts; I turned,—
And saw the proud careering waves ride as
Reined steeds under some mighty conquerors
Driven on. It was a day when the battle
Had been given unto God's chosen sons;
And I rejoiced as rose its glorious sun
Looking o'er land and sea, the inheritance
Of man new-blessed. And they who beneath its waves
And on its bed as on the dry land walked,
God led, stood on the other bank; and shouts
Louder than from the sea rose up to heaven.

The Baker's Island Light

The Gifts of God

The Sepulchre Of The Books

The Robin's Song

The Wounded Pigeon

And thou wast out on yesternight
When the wind blew so high a gale,
And snow and darkness gathered might
Joined with its loud and angry wail!
When rose the storm to smite each roof,
And the tree's lofty pride lay low;
And, swift as shuttles through the woof,
To drive the tall ships to and fro;
Thee too, a wanderer from some cot,
Driven up and downward in its whirl,
Amid the mightier things it wrought,
Against our porch it came to hurl.
Poor dove! the door man enters oft
Opened not to thee in thy distress,
Thou heardst no welcome voices soft
Thou sawest no hands outstretched to bless.
Not so, she who from the waters back
Returning sought the wandering ark,
When yet her foot had left no track,
Was welcomed to the tossing bark.
But here thy wounds unheeded flowed,
Nor heard thy moans, nor tapping bill;
Unknown thy pangs, till morning glowed,
And seen thy blood upon the sill.
Perhaps thy wounds by this are healed,
And thou hast forgot the unsheltered place;
But I were to instruction steeled
Should I forget thy suffering's trace.
Full oft our eyes are closed in sleep
Too deep to wake at misery's call,
Full oft a feeble watch we keep
When, without aid, the weak must fall.
Lord! strengthen me the hour to heed
That brings the sufferer to my door,
That I may to his succour speed,
Ere yet the time Thou giv'st be o'er.

The Swift

Men tell how many blossoms will appear
On every tree they plant & hope to thrive
How many kernels fill the yellow ear
How many bees shall swarm in every hive
When Spring's but come, 'tis Autumn here with them
And Summers but of Winter's cold can tell;
And when they see the fruit on laden stem
With them its early buds begin to swell
'Tis all too slow, fair nature's gentle growth;
Their hopes are ripe, when hers but bud & bloom;
And they accuse her equal pace—of sloth,
And cast on her the shadow of their gloom.
But she, kind Mother of her children all,
With voice of dove-like mildness gently chides
“I care for e'en the humble sparrow's fall
Alike with yon bright orb that o'er thee glides!”

The World

The Evening Choir

The organ smites the ear with solemn notes
In the dark pines withdrawn, whose shadows fall
Motionless on the moonlit path which leads
To the house of God, within whose porch I stand.
Behold the stars and larger constellations
Of the north hemisphere; glitter more bright
Their ranks, and more harmonious they seem,
As from within swells out the holy song.
The pillars tremble with the waves of sound!
There is in these deep tones a power to abide
Within us; when the hand is mouldered
Of him who sweeps its keys, and silent too
Her voice, who with the organ chants so sweet,
We shall hear echoes of a former strain,
Soft soul-like airs coming we know not whence.
I would that to the noisy throng below,
Which paces restless through the glimmering street,
Might reach this anthem with its cadence soft,
And its loud rising blasts. Men's ears are closed,
And shut their eyes, when from on high the angels
Listen well pleased, and nearer draw to the earth.
Yet here the blind man comes, the only constant
Listener. In the dim-lighted Church, within
Some pew's recess, retired he sits, with face
Upturned as if he saw, as well as heard,
And music was to him another sense:
Some thoughtless at the gate a moment stand,
Whom a chance-wandering melody detains,
And then, forgetful, mingle with the tide
That bears them on; perchance to wonder whence
It came, or dream from a diviner sphere
'T was heard.
Tomorrow is the Sabbath-time;
Refreshed by sleep this tired multitude,
Which now by all ways rushes through the city,
Each hurrying to and fro with thoughts of gain,
And harried with the business of the world,
Men with children mixed clamorous and rude,
Shall, all at once, quit their accustomed streets,
And to the temples turn with sober pace,
And decent dress composed for prayer and praise.
Yon gate, that now is shut upon the crowd,
Shall open to the worshippers; by paths
Where not a foot's now heard, up these high steps
Come arm in arm the mother, father, child,
Brother, and sister, servants and the stranger
Tarrying with them, and the stated priest
Who ministers in holy things. Peace be
On this House, on its courts! May the high hymn
Of praise, that now is sung preparative,
Quiet the rough waves that loud are breaking
At its base, and threatening its high walls.
I would not, when my heart is bitter grown,
And my thoughts turned against the multitude,
War with their earthly temple; mar its stones;
Or, with both pillars in my grasp, shake down
The mighty ruin on their heads. With this
I war not, nor wrestle with the earthly man.
I war with the spiritual temple raised
By pride, whose top is in the heavens, though built
On the earth; whose site and hydra-headed power
Is everywhere;—with Principalities,
And them who rule the darkness of this world,
The Spirits of wickedness that highest stand.
'Gainst this and these I fight; nor I alone,
But those bright stars I see that gather round
Nightly this sacred spot. Nor will they lay
Their glittering armor by, till from heaven's height
Is cast Satan with all his host headlong!
Falling from sphere to sphere, from earth to earth
Forever;—and God's will is done.

The Cold Spring In North Salem

Lines on Reading the Death of Rev. Henry Ware, Jr.

Though thou art dead and gone from mortal sight,
Faith will not let thee go, but follows on;
It sees thee even here beyond the grave,
That farthest limit to the eye of sense!
Blessed is he who puts his trust in him
Who came into, and left this earthly sphere,
Yet without sin. Such shall not stay within
The darksome tomb, companion of the dead,
But rise in incorruption with his Lord.
I thought not that so soon thou wouldst depart!
It seems but yesterday, and strong thy mind
And vigorous in man's service;—but the day
And hour that calls the faithful servant home
Into his Master's joy we cannot know.
Thou tendest now those “other sheep” which he
Has gone to bring. Many have heard thy voice
And known it here, and many learned from thee
The way of peace. Thy words and works shall be
Thy praise, and grateful hearts whom thou hast left
To mourn.
How many of the great and good
Within this fleeting year have passed away!
Alas! it pains me but to tell them o'er.
Names that the world has honored and revered,
And some as worthy that the world ne'er knew.
Much have we cause to mourn, whose lights yet burn,
For so much Genius, Wisdom, Goodness gone.
But let us not say “gone;” but see those still
Whom we have lost, in Heaven, their proper home.

Jonathan Huntington Bright

I sit within the room where thou once sat,
When half my age, a curly headed boy;
And live beneath the roof where thou once lived,
And spent life's early hours in peace and joy.
Here by the cheerful hearth and plenteous board,
Thou hast known a father's care, a mother's love;
Here was thy soul trained up to know its God,
And taught to prize the Wisdom from above.
And here the School, where many a livelong day
Thou hast pondered o'er the lesson hard and long;
And here the fields, the river, and the hills
That first inspired thee with the love of song.
Methinks I see thee with thy many mates
Upon yon sandy bank in healthful play,
Or bathing in the river's cooling tide,
Or hastening homeward at the close of day.
Methinks I see thee in the pastures wild,
Seeking the ripening berries far and near;
Breaking through bushy swamps, or on the hill;
Almost thy voice at times I seem to hear;
But thou are dead! Fair Salem's earliest bard!
Scarce half accomplished was man's life by thee!
Where rolls the Mississippi's mighty flood
The stranger's eye thy resting place can see!
Though known to few thy name, and few thy song,
Of all that now within thy city dwell;
Like thee, a “Traveller” through earth's passing scenes,
Fain would I of thy worth and wanderings tell.
Fain would I plant with laurel famed thy grave,
Where thou reposest from life's toilsome way;
Whose branches ever green, and towering head
Should mark thy rest to those who distant stray:
Still would I love as classic ground the spot,
Where passed in joy thy childhood's early hour;
The quiet roof, the field, the hill, the stream
Will from thy memory now have double power.

God's Host

There is an order in our daily life,
Like that the Holy Angels constant keep;
And though its outward form seem but a strife,
There dwells within a calm as the ocean's deep.
The forms that meet you in the house and street
Brushing with their rough coats your shining dress,
Did they in their own robes and features greet
Would seem like angels that the world possess:
And thou like Jacob when from Galeed's heap
He journeyed on unto the land of Seir,
And sware with Laban vows of peace to keep,
By Abraham's God and by his father's Fear;
Wouldst cry aloud in dread and wonder lost,
“This is the House of God! and these I see God's host!”

The Worm

The White Dove And The Snow

The quickly melting snow ran through the street,
The busy street, where man so often treads
Thinking on earthly things, careworn and sad;
And there a milk-white dove drank eagerly,
As if it blessed the heaven-descended stream.
Gazing, I thought of Purity and Faith;
How unto these the Lord giveth to drink,
E'en on the crowded city's dusty ways,
Of those clear streams which from His golden throne
Forever flow! Why thoughtless pass we by
Those crystal streams, that ever downward flow
To cool our thirsty, feverish spirits
In their daily toil, and make us think of Him?
The world's loud, turbid flood will soon run dry,
And we be left without one cooling draught.

The Latter Rain

The latter rain,—it falls in anxious haste
Upon the sun-dried fields and branches bare,
Loosening with searching drops the rigid waste,
As if it would each root's lost strength repair;
But not a blade grows green as in the spring,
No swelling twig puts forth its thickening leaves,
No busy birds, as then, are heard to sing,
Building upon the boughs or 'neath the eaves;
The rain falls still,—yet Nature heeds it not,
She lifeless lies, as lies upon the bier
The corse that soon within the ground must rot,
Nor knows that on it falls the scalding tear;
Yet she tho' dead, like man, shall live again,
And bless with smiles and songs the latter rain.

Moses In Infancy

How! canst thou see the basket, wherein lay
The infant Moses, by the river's side;
And her, who stood and watched it on the tide;
Will Time bring back to thee that early day?
And canst thou to the distant Nile be near,
Where lived that mother, tossed with hope and fear,
Yet more than was her infant by the wave?
No: Time will not his dark domain unbar,
Himself he cannot from oblivion save;
Nor canst thou make come nearer what is far;—
But thou hast human sympathies to feel
What eye, nor ear, nor sense can e'er reveal;
Hope too is thine, that past the ocean sails,
And Memory, that over Time himself prevails!

Moses at the Bush

'Twas while the bush was burning, Moses saw
The Present God! and heard His voice, I AM!
The God of Jacob, and of Abraham
Spake, in the wild, to him who gave the Law;
Quick as he heard he hid his face in awe!
Around him flared the red light on the rocks,
And downward shone upon his sleeping flocks.
He who from Pharaoh hasted to withdraw,
Leaving his palaces, and piles of art
Lit with aye-burning lamps, false idols' seat;
Though not, when in the wilderness he fed
His father's flocks, the great I AM to meet;
From human homes, and man's known ways apart,
Where burned the bush on Horeb's rocky head!

Moses As Leader Of Israel

'Twas not by strength of man, that Moses sought
To guide his people to their promised rest;
Nor his own wisdom, that through deserts brought,
And in a land of plenty made them blest;
Though he was learned in all the hidden lore
That Aegypt knew, mighty in word and deed;
'Twas not, by these, he broke their fetters sore,
And Israel's tribes from Pharaoh's bondage freed.
‘If Thou wilt not go with us,’ was his prayer
Unto the Lord of Hosts, ‘let us not go
Up to the land, which Thou, before, did'st swear
To give unto our fathers. Thus shall know
All men, that Thou hast chosen us to be
A people called and holy unto Thee.’

The New Jerusalem

The Autumn Flowers

The Death Of Man

All Nature dies! wide over hill and plain,
The forests brown and withered meet the eye;
The flowers are gone, the birds will not remain,
The grass, so green of late, is pale and dry.
But what is Nature's death, though, far and wide
Thou see'st the emblems of her sure decay,
To Man's; to whom, in soul, thou art allied;
And who but now, unnoticed, passed away!
Daily he passes; in the lowly shed,
In the high palace, 'neath the open sky;
No world-wide symbols mark that He is dead,
No gorgeous splendor draws thy wondering eye;
Yet passed there from thee all that Heaven could give,
And more than could within all Nature live!

As ye sow, so shall ye reap.

God Not Afar Off

The Indian's Retort

The Widow

A greater tribute than the Temple's height,
Its solid walls, and sounding minstrelsy,
And all that there the senses vain delight,
Is that lone widow's worship, Lord, to Thee.
In her ill-furnished chamber there, alone,
She opes the Book, which Thou hast given to all;
And, on her knees, before thy gracious throne,
For light, and strength, in this her need, doth call.
And she shall find them; what the boasting pride
Of minster-service promised her in vain;
Though late she seeks, she shall not be denied,
She, through thy Son, Eternal Life shall gain;
When left by crowds, Thou, Father, still art near,
And dost delight the lonely one to hear.

Impatience

Thou chid'st the wind, and snow, and sleet, and ice;
That still delay the Spring, when Spring is near.
Thou see'st the grass as if already green,
And scent'st the flowers, and hear'st the song of birds.
Then why this disappointment of my hopes,
You ask? What! would you have the year come forth
To fail, and die? This wind, and snow, and ice,
This second winter was not made in vain.
'Twas sent to retard and check the vital powers,
That else, with fatal haste, might swell the grain,
And cause the fruitful trees too soon to bloom.
O'ertook by sudden frosts, and icy blasts,
Nature in all her glow of life would droop,
And famished millions perish!
Scorn not slow Nature's work; chide not her ways,
For they are ordered, everywhere, aright;
But from her wisdom learn thou to be wise.
There is a Providence in all we see,
Which man should ever study and adore.

Abdolonymus—The Sidonian

The clash of arms, which shook the Persian state,
Did not disturb the peasant at his toil;
In his small garden-plot more truly great,
Than he who stretched his sceptre o'er its soil.
He wanted naught, but what his hands supplied,
Content with fruits, the bounty of his field;
There would he, in old age, in peace have died;
But worth and greatness could not be concealed!
O'erlooked were many, who would Sidon rule,
Ambitious princes, seeking kingly sway;
Who, trained in arms, had learned from War's proud school,
By fire and sword to win to thrones their way.
The crown and purple robe to him were sent,
Who peaceful lived, with poverty content.

The Arrival

The ship comes up the harbor. Every sail
Is set on every mast. The sun is bright,
And the blue waters 'round seem to rejoice
With her that she has 'scaped all perils now,
And safe returned unto her destined port.
Upon the wharf are groups straining their eyes
To tell her signal, and conjecturing
Her name. Some aided by the glass pronounce
More surely. The aged seamen know her
By her spars. Boats put out to welcome her.
She's past the Island Light, past yonder head,
And soon she will be here—so swift she sails.
To the wharf's extreme a boy comes running.
He listens to the sounds borne on the breeze.
“That is my father's voice,” he cries o'erjoyed,
Yet half in doubt as though it might not be.
And then again, “That is my father's voice!”
Nearer the vessel comes. He sees him now,
And points him out there leaning o'er the side.
He's all beside himself with hope and joy.
The vessel nears the wharf. The captain speaks,
And swift the sailors fly to every rope.
The yards are dropt, the sails are quickly furled,
And motionless the noble vessel lies
Beside the pier. Joyous greetings follow.
But most glad of all the boy. Ere the ship
Had touched the wharf, he from another's side
Had gained her deck, and seized his father's hand.

The Soul's Preparation For Adversity

How stript and bare is every bush and tree
Of all the pride of summer, and of spring;
Each of its vain encumbrance shaken free,
While winter's blasts through all their branches ring!
So, when Thou would'st thy children should prepare
To meet adversity, and pain, and death;
To suffer all things, every danger dare;
Thou scatterest, Father, with the tempest's breath,
All that they cling to in their hour of pride,
All that the world calls greatness, glory, power;
That they in Thee alone may then confide,
And find their proper strength; in that lone hour,
When this world's glory burdens, or is gone;
And they must look to Thee, and Thee alone.

Change In The Seasons

Has Nature a new sympathy with man,
That, in this northern clime, the pansies bloom
To deck the opening year with summer flowers?
In mid December, still the fields were green.
On my walk I found the dandelion
Full blown, and bright as when it opes in Spring,
And sprinkles all the mead with yellow gold.
The apple blossoms, early shrubs have leaves,
And Spring seems pressing on in Winter's stead!
These fair signs we see are not deceptive.
Experience has shown from year to year,
That Winter grows more mild. Rivers that once
Were frozen, so that heavy wagons crost
Secure as on a bridge, now freeze no more;
And countries, that were buried deep with snow,
Through all the year, and uninhabited,
Now yield the olive, and the purple grape.
Astronomers once thought the equator's plane
Approached the ecliptic's, in the lapse of time;
And, should they coincide, perpetual Spring
Would come. Changes as great, Geology
Has proved the earth to have seen. That tropic
Plants, and animals have lived, and flourished, here
In our Northern clime. That once the Mammouth
Roamed Siberia's plains, and in the frozen
North abundant pasturage found. Here forests
Grew of other leaf, and fruits; here other
Flowers. Pleased with the thought my fancy sees
The tropic's vegetation rise around!
Where now the spreading oak, the palm upsprings;
The apple for the olive is exchanged;
The golden orange through the dark leaves glows,
Where now the hardy pine alone will live.
For scraggy briar, the fragrant myrtle
By the roadside blooms. Delicate flowers,
That household care alone can now make live,
Bloom wild throughout the year; fearing no blast,
Or cruel frost to nip their tender leaves.
Thus over all the earth, from month to month,
Bland gales shall blow, and birds continual sing;
No sudden tempest lash the sea to foam,
Nor shall the earth with sudden tremor shake.
All nature then will be at peace, to which
E'en now by slow degrees she tends. Alas!
When Nature thus improves upon herself,
By God's decree, that man should retrograde;
Unfit himself for that new earth and sky,
Which with revolving seasons hastens on.
Now fair his promise, and he seems to tend
Like nature to a new-born, heavenly Spring
Of endless happiness, and peace, and love;
But soon his passions like a whirlwind rise,
Fierce hate and wrath hide the mild-beaming sun,
And snatch the pleasing prospect from our view,
And nought is left but hope to light our path.

The Just Shall Live by Faith

‘The just shall live by faith’ the Prophet cried,
When, sent in judgment on his native land,
He saw the fierce Chaldeans spreading wide,
And Israel's hosts too feeble to withstand;
‘The just shall live by faith,’ the Apostle said,
When Christ delayed his coming on the earth;
And, with these words, his fainting followers staid,
And hope within them had a second birth.
‘The just shall live by faith’ the Reformer's word,
That roused the Church, when sunk in sin and lust,
To turn again unto the Living Lord,
And shake her shining garments from the dust;
Oh may we heed it, when our Lord delays,
And tarries long, that He may prove our ways!

Salem

Boast not, my native spot, thy sons were first
To shed their blood in Freedom's noble cause;
Nor glory when thou hear'st the tale rehearst,
Though all the world should greet thee with applause.
Another day has come, another age,
And rights by blood and strife no more are won;
Awake! and write thee on a holier page,
Nor boast with warriors what thy sword has done.
Scorn, as thou ever hast, to build thy walls
Upon a suffering neighbor's hapless lot;
Heed Peace, Humanity, and Justice's calls;
And, when in coming ages are forgot
The strife of war and every blood-stained field,
Thy Name alone undying fame shall yield!

Spring in the Soul

The bough which long has borne the winter's blast,
Enclosed with ice, or heavy with the snow;
Does, when its cold and stormy months are past,
The springing leaves and bursting blossoms show.
So ye, on whom the world's cold breath has blown,
While here you suffer for your Master's name;
The kindness of the Father soon shall own,
And, in the fruit you bear, His love proclaim.
Its storms are sent by the same Father's love,
Who, with the seasons, marks the varied year,
That you may thus your full obedience prove;—
Then courage take, and calm each rising fear;
Endure! For Spring will quickly come again,
Come in your hearts, as now on hill and plain.

Nature's Invitation

Pine not, my child, to distant lands to go;
The flower with me is pleading at thy feet,
The clouds delaying through the azure flow,
And soft the breezes come thy cheek to greet.
Why hasten on, hast thou a fairer home?
Has God more richly blessed the world than here,
That thou in haste wouldst from thy country roam,
Favored by every month that fills the year?
What though in other climes rise loftier piles,
And Art with fairer colors decks her halls;
No fairer there than here are Nature's smiles,
No sweeter there than here her music calls;
Attune thy mind, open thine inward eye,
And thou wilt seek no more a distant sky.

Christ's Compassion

He saw them tasked with heavy burthens all,
Bowed down and weary 'neath the heavy load;
With none their faltering footsteps home to call,
Or point them out the strait and narrow road;
His spirit bore their burthens, as his own,
He healed the sick, restored the sightless eyes;
He heard the mourner for a loved one moan,
And bade the dead from out the grave arise!
Truly on him the Spirit did descend,
For he, by works divine, its influence proved;
Of all our race Consoler, Guide, and Friend,
By heavenly Love, divine Compassion moved;
Oh, that his spirit might on us abide,
And flow in healing streams on every side!

Hymn

The Man of Science

The Congress Of Peace At Brussels

'Tis A Great Thing to Live

'Tis a great thing to live. Not small the task
Our Heavenly Father gives us here below;
And we have need continually to ask,
That light, and strength may through our being flow.
Not on the trifles of the passing hour,
With those who squander life, fix thou thy mind;
(For these may rob thy spirit of a power
Which was for greater, nobler things designed;)
But on some mighty work, some worthy plan,
Requiring e'en an angel's strength to do;
For scarce below the angel is the man,
And both may, here, one great design pursue;
The same on earth, the same in heaven above,
A holy ministry of peace and love.

The Indian's Petition

The Indian calls! Grant him a place of rest,
From wrong, and violence forever free;
Grant him a portion of the boundless West,
Where he may dwell, and learn to live like thee.
There let him learn to till the fruitful soil,
Subdue his passions fierce by reason's sway;
And find how vast the gains of patient toil,
And all his nobler energies display.
There let him learn it was not all a dream,
His fathers taught him of the Indian's heaven;
That there, beyond the mighty western stream,
That home of rest may yet to him be given;
Where he shall know His love, who died for all,
And on his Heavenly Father learn to call.

The Struggle

A mighty struggle in the world goes on,
A struggle, not for wealth, or Time's vain toys;
But one, in which the crown of Life is won,
And man inherits here eternal joys!
Not those who slumber, or who trifle here,
Can win the prize, which crowns that mighty strife;
But they, whom active love doth onward cheer
To fill with noble deeds their fleeting life;—
Who oft through suffering, oft through shades of death
Are called to pass, that they their crowns may win;
Oft only victors, with their dying breath,
Against the world-destroying power of Sin;
Which still disputes Christ's triumph on the earth,
And claims, as hers, each soul of heavenly birth.

The Things Before

I would not tarry, Look! the things before
Call me along my path, with beckoning love;
The things I gain wear not the hues they wore,
For brighter glories now my spirit move.
Still on; I seek the peace my master sought,
The world cannot disturb his joy within;
It is not with its gold and silver bought,
They give not victory over death and sin.
Awake, ye sensual, from your sleep of shame!
Shake off the slumbers of the earthly mind;
For higher objects now your spirits claim,
To which the soul, that slumbers here, is blind;
Objects, which, like the soul itself, endure;
Things that are true, and lovely, just, and pure.

The Dying Leaf

The New Body

The Clock

The slowly-moving fingers minutes find,
And hours and days, and e'en the lengthening years;
As much before them still as is behind,
No want their circling movement ever fears.
How different Man! By sudden impulse driven,
Now in the distant past he seeks for rest;
Now in the far-off future is his heaven;
“He never is, but always to be blest.”
His morn is with his noon, his noon with night,
His hand can never point to one true hour;
But marks one past, or future in its flight,
For o'er the present he has lost all power;
Unlike the clock, whose ready tongue can all
The hours, and days of Time find voice to call.

On The Sudden Snow

On the late Disgraceful Scene in Congress

Fools! That when things of high import concern
Their country's glory, and the human race;
They will not from the times a lesson learn,
But bring dishonor on their name and place.
When millions stand expectant to be free,
Is it the time for brawling and for strife;
For men on trifles still to disagree,
And waste the hour with highest duties rife?
The statesman's words are few, and full of grace,
The babbler's loud, and vulgar in their tone;
Ever unworthy of the time and place,
And now by folly, now by madness known;
They fill the world with tumult, and with shame,
And bring a foul reproach upon his country's name.

The Funerals

The New Aqueduct

The Soul's Freedom

Looking Before And After

How oft by passion, or by interest led,
Men see not that they purpose, till 'tis done!
The string is snapt, the fatal arrow sped,
And to its mark it flies unerring on.
Look not before thee merely, but behind;
See how thy deed, when finished, will appear;
Like him who some fair temple has designed,
And views complete; ere men a column rear.
And see thy work, as it shall one day stand
Before thy spirit's pure, unclouded sight;
No longer subject to thy mortal hand,
But in Eternity's unchanging light!
Say, doth it then with added glory shine?
Then boldly act, thy deed is all divine.

The Succory

The Reapers Are The Angels

How few the reapers in life's whitening fields!
How many, preying on the ripening ears,
Forever scatter all the harvest yields,
Planted with toil, and wet with many tears!
Ah, little know they at what price was sown
The seed field of the world, a waste before;
When He, who sowed the seed, went forth alone,
And all the toil, and all the suffering bore.
But soon the Husbandman his heirs shall send,
Who, from the tares, shall cull the precious wheat;
And, from the heavens, the Son himself descend,
And with his welcome every laborer greet;
And give the weary ones his peace, his rest,
And to the feast invite each ransomed guest.

The Sumach Leaves

The Just

Do all thy acts with strictest justice square,
Lov'st thou thy neighbor, as thou lov'st thyself;
Refusing in unrighteousness to share,
Loving Christ's Kingdom, more than worldly pelf?
Does morning find thee, with its earliest beam,
Seeking each selfish purpose to control;
And, when the stars upon thy labors gleam,
Is there no stain, no burden on thy soul?
Then mayst thou rest in peace: for thee the sun
Does from his ocean-bed each morning rise;
And, when across the heavens his course is run,
For thee the dusky night his place supplies;
That thou with quiet conscience still may sleep,
While watchful stars above their vigils keep.

Slavery

Not by the railing tongues of angry men,
Who have not learned their passions to control;
Not by the scornful words of press and pen,
That now ill-omened fly from pole to pole;
Not by fierce party cries; nor e'en by blood,
Can this our Country's guilt be washed away;
In vain for this would flow the crimson flood,
In vain for this would man his brother slay.
Not by such means; but by the power of prayer;
Of faith in God, joined with a sense of sin;
These, these alone can save us from despair,
And o'er the mighty wrong a victory win;
These, these alone can make us free from all
That doth ourselves, our Country still inthral.

The Fugitive Slaves

Ye sorrowing people! who from bondage fly,
And cruel laws, that men against you make;
Think not that none there are who hear your cry,
And for yourselves, and children thought will take.
Though now bowed down with sorrow and with fear,
Lift up your heads! for you are not alone;
Some Christian hearts are left your flight to cheer,
Some human hearts not wholly turned to stone.
God to his angels shall give strictest charge,
And in their hands they'll bear you safe from harm;
Where, in a freer land, you'll roam at large,
Nor dread pursuit, nor start at each alarm;
Till in His time you shall return again,
No more to feel man's wrath, or dread his chain.

The Lost Sheep

Suggested by an Engraving

Beneath the wild thorn stretched upon the ground,
Lo, Christ the wanderer from his fold has found;
Pierced by the thorns it torn and bleeding lies,
And fills the desert with its piteous cries.
Neglected by its shepherd, it had strayed,
And left the murmuring brook, and sunny glade;
To wander, parched and hungry, o'er the plain,
No more its happy pastures to regain.
And he, who should have searched, with anxious fear,
On every hill and valley, far and near;
And, when he found, upon his shoulder laid,
And with his friends a great rejoicing made;
Cared not to leave his ease the lost to find,
To give it food, its bleeding wounds to bind;
He heeded not its fate, nor piteous cry,
But left it suffering, there alone to die.
But Christ, who careth for the lost and poor,
His Father's mansions left to seek and cure;
He from its foot plucked out the festering thorn,
Smoothed its soft fleece, by cruel branches torn;
And bore it, in his arms, beside the brink
Of cooling stream, and gave it there to drink;
There washed the crimson from its bleeding side,
And with the tender grass its wants supplied;
Then, calling it by name, he homeward led,
And as his own the lost and wandering fed.

Thoughts and Desires

Hymn

The Soul's Rest

Rejoice ye weary! ye whose spirits mourn,
There is a rest which shall not be removed;
Press on and reach within the heavenly bourne,
By Christ, the King of your Salvation, proved.
There is a rest! Rejoice ye silent stars,
Roll on no more all voiceless on your way;
Thou Sun! no more dark cloud thy triumph bars,
Speak thou to every land the coming day.
And thou, my soul, that feel'st the rest within,
That greater art than star, or burning sun;
Rejoice! for thou hast known the rest from sin,
And hast the eternal life in God begun:
Praise thou the Lord, with every living thing,
And for his grace with saints, and angels sing.

The Sliding Rock

The Sliding Rock! that pleasant spot,
So dear in childhood's hour;
Say, can it ever be forgot,
While memory holds her power?
How smooth 'twas worn! Like glass, or steel,
Its polished surface shone;
No hobbly place the foot could feel,
Upon that slippery stone.
For boys and girls, with busy feet,
Its face kept ever bright;
There oft for play they loved to meet,
At morn, and noon, and night.
I see them now, at even-tide,
A merry, happy band;
I see them ready for a slide,
Upon its top they stand.
Now as the oldest takes the lead,
And glides across its face;
They, one by one, in turn succeed,—
And then renew the race.
They seem as if with wings possest,
As up and down they go;
Without a pause, or moment's rest,
Above, and now below.
When hot and weary down they sit,
And watch the passers by;
With pleasant smiles their faces lit,
And pleasure in each eye;
They sit and watch the pasture gate,
Till it shall open wide
For yonder herd, that stand and wait,
Upon the green hill's side;
They count their number as they crowd
The path beneath their feet;
And hear their lowings, long and loud,
Far down the busy street.
The dusty traveller with his staff
There stops to watch their play;
Pleased with their sport and merry laugh;
Then passes on his way.
The loaded stage, with quickening speed,
Comes rumbling down the hill;
While every panting, smoking steed
New ardor seems to fill.
But now the travellers all are gone,
The shadows darker grow;
They leave, 'till morn, the sliding stone,
And to their homes they go.
The fire-flies gleam among the hay,
The stars are in the sky;
And, wearied with their pleasant play,
In slumbers sweet they lie.

The Potato Blight

Congregational Singing

Kossuth

Illustrious man! who doth to heaven appeal
Against the tyrant's might, and tyrant's wrong;
And, as thine own, thy Country's wounds doth feel,
Forget not in whose strength vain man is strong:
Not in the mighty winds that mountains shake,
Not in the earthquake, nor the avenging fire;
But in the still small voice Jehovah spake,
Rebuking thus his warlike prophet's ire.
'Tis ours for Truth to suffer, and to speak;
But not to fight, or warlike trumpet blow;
The strength of armies in her cause is weak,
And Freedom finds in these her deadliest foe;
For never can the Truth, or Right prevail,
Till rust consume the sword, and warrior's mail.

John Woolman

Friend of the slave, and friend of all mankind;
He felt for all that suffering man doth feel;
And labored through his life, with humble mind,
The cause of all his suffering to reveal.
He preached deliverance to the captive slave,
Justice and mercy to his cruel lord;
Strong in his faith and love, who came to save,
And bring fulfilment to the prophet's word;—
Thou sowd'st not seed in vain; in want and tears
Oft journeying from place to place alone;
The rich reward of all thy toils appears,
A glorious harvest waves, where it was sown;
And countless reapers, with their sickles stand,
Reaping what thou didst sow with single hand.

Hymn

Waiting for Christ

The Wild Rose of Plymouth

Upon the Plymouth shore the wild rose blooms
As when the Pilgrims lived beside the bay
And scents the morning air with sweet perfumes,
Though new this hour more ancient far than they;
More ancient than the wild, yet friendly race,
That roved the land before the Pilgrims came;
And here for ages found a dwelling-place
Of whom our histories tell us but the name!
Though new this hour out from the Past it springs
Telling this summer morning of earth's prime;
And happy visions of the Future brings
That reach beyond, e'en to the verge of time;
Wreathing earth's children in one flowery chain
Of Love and Beauty ever to remain.

Voting In The Old North Church

No unfit place is this wherein to vote,
That once a Temple was to the Most High.
Though some may deem it as a thing of chance,
That it for such a purpose should be used;
I see in this a sign of deep import
Unto my Country, and her future weal:
A sign it is, that with no foolish haste,
No ignorance of what our duty is,
No base or sordid purpose in our souls,
We on this Table now should lay our votes,
And exercise a freeman's holy trust.
Hence ye profane! who would these courts invade
With consciences defiled, and passions fierce;
Who scorn all bounds, and, in the sacred name
Of Liberty; indulge in foul excess,
Shouting her name to violate her rights.
Hence too ye ignorant! who know not yet
The value of the rights, which you enjoy.
Neglecting your own minds, in vain you strive
To serve your Country in her hour of need.
The ends of Government, its righteous ends,
Peace, Order, Industry, and steady growth
In Knowledge, and in Virtue, are forgot
By ignorant, deluded multitudes;
For mad Ambition's warlike, wasteful schemes.
The industrious citizen and peaceful man,
Who for long years has served his country well,
And understands her history, and her laws;
Is set aside for heroes of an hour;
Who nothing know, but to excell in arms,
And nothing but a victory recommends.
In vain does Freedom, with her gifts, endow
A people; that neglect to know their worth,
Or satisfy the claims on which they are held.
Ye sordid hence! if such, in such a land,
There live; who, though in deepest poverty,
Could so forget a freeman's holy trust,
As for the heaviest purse to sell their votes!
Hence all, who have not in their heart of hearts
Their Country's good! who bring not here to lay
Upon her altar sincere gifts, and free.
Who, by whatever name they may be called,
Seek not her highest welfare as their own.
Oft as I tread these courts, I seem to hear
A voice, still lingering round their walls, which says,
‘Ye who would serve your Country, serve your God.
Choose ye this day, if ye will serve the Lord.
Do justice, and love mercy. Let not pride
Of country blind you to your country's sins.
Uphold not by your votes her wickedness,
Her love of war, the oppression of the slave,
Or any wrong, that man inflicts on man.
Give the law's sanction only to what's just,
To precepts such as reason doth approve,
And Christ has taught. Obedient to these truths,
Americans! your Country's safe. The will
Of the majority will prove the reign of right,
Of reason, and self-government mature.
And He who rules the nations shall sustain,
And cherish your Republic; till it grow
To be a blessing, lasting and unmixed,
To all the human race.’

The Day Lily

The Solitary Worshipper

Alone and silent there he sat
Within the house of prayer;
Where, once with him, his brethren met,
In silent worship there.
They all had gone; the young and old
Were gathered to the dead;
He saw no more their friendly looks,
He heard no more their tread.
Yet still he loved, as came the day,
When they were wont to meet,
To tread the old familiar way,
And take his 'customed seat.
Plain was the place, an humble hall,
In which he sat alone;
The show of forms, the pride of art
To him were all unknown.
No organ pealed its solemn notes,
No choir the stillness broke,
No preacher read the sacred page,
Or to his hearers spoke.
He needed not those outward things
To wake the reverent mind;
For other ends than such as this,
They seemed to him designed.
In silence, gathered to himself,
The Spirit he implored;
And without speech, or outward sign,
The Father he adored.
And to his mind was opened then
The meaning of the word,
“Ask and receive,” “seek ye and find”
The Spirit of the Lord.
That Spirit strengthened and consoled,
And gave him inward sight;
And round the lonely worshipper
There shone a marvellous light!
No more alone! For he had come
To Zion's holy hill,
The city of the Living God,
Which saints and angels fill.
The elders there with silver locks,
The sisters' modest grace,
The young, in all their innocence,
With glory filled the place.
No cloud of sorrow, or of care
A soul had ever known,
That in that happy band he saw,
Nor felt it e'er alone.
Their looks of peace and love unchanged
Assured his trembling soul;
And bade him banish every fear,
And every doubt controul.
With them again, as when on earth,
He held communion sweet;
And by their sympathy was made
For heaven's own worship meet.

Sonnet,

To the Rev. James Flint, D. D., On reading his Collection of Poems.

The Poet often strives, on eagle's wings,
Above the earth, and all it holds to soar;
Forgetting humble, and familiar things,
Which touch the heart, and thus improve us more.
Not such thy Verse, beloved, and honored Friend!
Which loves our earthly griefs, and joys to share;
And doth amusement with instruction blend,
Dwelling on every object grand and fair.
Of Change it tells, propitious, or adverse,
That, in Time's flight, our own New England's known;
And doth, in pensive, pleasing strains, rehearse
The changes which Old Harvard's halls have shown.
Thine too are Hymns; that elevate and cheer,
And all our homes, and temples more endear.

The Mind The Greatest Mystery

I threw a stone into a cavern deep,
And listening heard it from the floor rebound;
It could not from my thought its secret keep,
Though hidden from the sight its depth I found;
I dropped a lead into the ocean brine,
That silent sank; I sought its depth to know;
And the swift running of the deep sea line
Told me how far was ocean's bed below;
By geometric skill I spanned the sky,
And found how far from earth the fixed star;
Through widening spaces glanced my wondering eye,
Where the last sun lights up the heavens afar;
But when, from these, I turned to explore the mind,
In vain or height, or depth I sought to find.

The Conspiracy

Nations and kings conspire against the Lord,
Exulting in their numbers, and their might;
And in their pride reject His holy word,
Proclaiming to the world that Power is Right.
The prophets in the dungeons pine and die,
The patriots from their country far are driven;
The captives toiling in their bondage cry,
And raise their eyes, and fettered hands to heaven.
Cast down, O Lord, the proud! Uphold the weak!
For Thou art God of heaven, and earth, and sea;
Make bold thy servants, Lord, thy truth to speak;
Our country save, and set the captives free;
Rule Thou in righteousness through Christ thy Son,
And, as in heaven, on earth thy will be done.

The Horsemen on the Sands

Upon the treacherous sands the horsemen ride,
And careless pass the bright and happy day;
Unmindful of the swift returning tide,
That long has warned them of their mad delay.
The winds arise, and sudden falls the night,
On every side the hungry billows roar;
With breathless haste they urge their rapid flight,
And, with their utmost speed, scarce gain the shore.
So, on the sands of Time we careless live,
Forgetting oft, how short life's little day;
And scarce a serious thought to duty give,
Till all its golden hours have fled away;
And but a few short moments yet remain,
In which we may the Shore in safety gain.

My Dear Brother Washington

On Seeing The Victoria Regia In Bloom, At The Garden of J. Fisk Allen Esq. July 22d, 1853.

Thou wondrous Flower! in which, on grander scale
Than in our northern clime, we see displayed
Creative Power, and Skill, that never fail;
By which the world and all therein were made;
With reverence on thy beauty would I gaze,
Inhale thy fragrance, and admire thy Leaf;
Whose wondrous size, and structure claim our praise,
Surpassing our conception and belief.
Yet on our ponds & streams, O Tropic Queen!
The type of thee in stem, and leaf, and flower,
In beauty, and in fragrance too is seen;
Displaying here the same Creative Power,
As where, on Amazon's gigantic stream,
Thou lift's thy head to greet the morning beam.

On Finding the Truth

With sweet surprise, as when one finds a flower,
Which in some lonely spot, unheeded, grows;
Such were my feelings, in the favored hour,
When Truth to me her beauty did disclose.
Quickened I gazed anew on heaven and earth,
For a new glory beamed from earth and sky;
All things around me shared the second birth,
Restored with me, and nevermore to die.
The happy habitants of other spheres,
As in times past, from heaven to earth came down;
Swift fled in converse sweet the unnumbered years,
And angel-help did human weakness crown!
The former things, with Time, had passed away,
And Man, and Nature lived again for aye.

Goliath

With bold, unblushing front the Giant Wrong
Stalks forth, with helmet armed, and sword, and spear;
In its own strength, and brazen armor strong,
Inspiring e'en the hosts of God with fear!
Thus War amidst the nations rears its head,
Thus Slavery defies its banded foes;
They fill the world with tumults and with dread,
And to the present add prophetic woes.
But oft, by feeblest arm, God shows his might,
When e'en the numerous host with terror quails;
Some stripling David dares the unequal fight,
And in the name of Israel's God prevails;
To show the earth the Lord is God alone,
And Strength, and Skill, and Victory are his own.

A Sunset In Haverhill

The Past

Thou Past! What art thou? whither dost thou lead
Through countless generations fled away;
Empires, and races, that have left no trace,
Save in the nameless mound, or city's site,
Disputed oft, and called by different names.
Thou point'st to Nineveh, and storied Thebes,
To Aegypt's pyramids, and Paestum's fanes;
And say'st, with solemn, awe-inspiring voice,
“These are of yesterday, compared with Me.”
And still thou beckon'st on, with shadowy hand,
Through hoary epochs before man was made,
And at the head of the creation placed.
I pass gigantic forms, unknown to man,
Save by their impress, left upon the rock;
Or their huge bones dug from the miry clay;
Mammoth and Mastodon, and, stranger still,
The monsters of the Oolitic age.
And still beyond, amidst gigantic ferns,
And towering reeds, I pass; whose thick rank growth,
O'erwhelmed by fire and flood, was changed to coal;
Before the lofty mountains were upheaved.
Not there, nor in the central depths beneath,
I reach the boundaries of thy mighty realm.
Leaving the earth, I soar amidst the stars,
And far beyond the solar system range;
Where light, the swiftest messenger of God,
Has winged its arrowy flight for countless years,
Yet never reached the world to which 'twas sent!
Lost and bewildered, by the amazing thought,
In vain I seek above, as on the earth,
Thy origin; or what thou art, O Past!
Wearied with outward search, I turn within;
And, of my soul, I ask thy origin.
But vainly there would I explore thy depths.
For deeper mysteries within us lie,
Than in the world of time and sense without.
Of spirit's hidden essence, who can tell,
Or mark, by years, the time when it began?
The mind within its mighty thought can grasp
The laws, that bind the planets in their course,
Measure the stars' vast distance from the earth,
Predict the wandering comet's sure return,
Compel the elements to do its will.
In vain Philosophy would seek to read
The dark inscriptions on the human soul,
More ancient, and obscure than print of beast,
Or bird, or tree, left on the solid rock,
When the foundations of the earth were laid.
In God alone my wandering mind can rest,
In Him the Present, Past, and Future meet.
Though, to our weak view, succession marks
The history of man, and all we see;
And e'en our language echoes with the past;
Yet this is but our feeble, finite thought,
That sees not from beginning to the end.
He who, in the Beginning, formed the earth,
And woke the soul to conscious life and joy;
He fixed thy boundaries, O mysterious Past!
And crowned Thee monarch of thy mighty realm.
And He determined, when thy reign shall end,
And in our thought Eternity begin.

Hymn, Sung at the Thompson Jubilee, at Barre, Jan. 12, 1854

On The Nebraska Bill

An Eden land, an Eden in the west,
Where once the Indians roamed erect and free;
Where now their few and weary tribes find rest,
Shall it be blasted, cursed by Slavery?
Our plighted faith to the red man was given,
That there should be the asylum of his race;
Our vow to Afric's sons is writ in heaven,
And shall we thus fair Freedom's name disgrace?
O plant not then the poisonous upas there,
Nor heed the subtle serpent's guileful speech;
Bur rather bid all races come and share,
And Freedom's Gospel to the nations teach;
That unborn millions there may learn its name,
And the glad tidings through the world proclaim.

On An Ear Of Wheat Brought, By My Brother, From The Field Of Waterloo

The Dead Elm

It stands amidst the beauty of the Spring,
Its graceful outline stretched against the sky;
Warm suns, and rains, which life to others bring,
Blossoms, and leaves to it alone deny.
A subtle gas has been its fatal foe,
Through all the ground the noxious fumes have spread;
Its roots have drunk the poisoned stream below,
The noble elm roots, trunk, and limbs, is dead!
So, without sign of aught the soul can harm,
Amidst a sinful world, it droops and dies;
Concealed, the evil gives it no alarm,
When, from gross vice, with wings of fear, it flies;
Its subtle foe is in the air it breathes,
Mixed with the very food on which it lives.

Hymn

Sung at the Celebration of the Fourth of July, in Salem, 1854.

The Camphene Lamp

The Homeless Wind

What Of The Night?

To the Memory of the Rev. James Flint, D.D.

McLean Asylum, Somerville

The Age Changeful and Worldly

Amidst a changeful, worldly age like ours,
How hard to keep a fixed, aspiring mind!
The Present with its sights and sounds o'erpowers,
And makes us to the Past and Future blind.
In vain does History tell, with faithful page,
Of mighty realms by luxury o'erthrown;
Men heed not, in an over-anxious age,
Their ruined capitals with grass o'ergrown.
In vain the prophets of a coming time
Proclaim for earth a bright, millennial day;
But few, responsive to their call sublime,
With a high purpose live, and toil, and pray;
Lord, from our hearts, pluck up each noxious weed,
And, in their places, sow the heavenly seed!

Hymn

So also will God, through Jesus, bring with him them who sleep.

“Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted.”

Math. 5:4.

How blessed the tears of those, who still weep on,
When they have ceased to feel Affliction's rod;
Forgetful that from them the chastening's gone,
Their eyes behold in faith their Father, God!
No more their tears for pain, and suffering flow,
They weep, for joy, to know their sins forgiven;
That God, e'en on the sinful, doth bestow,
Through his dear Son, the peace, and bliss of heaven.
Thus, when the storm is o'er, and, in the west,
The sun breaks forth amid the falling shower;
In heavenly hues the far-off clouds are drest,
And songs are heard within the sparkling bower;
And Nature weeps; though, midst her falling tears,
The bow of Promise in the clouds appears.

To The Memory Of The Rev. James Chisholm

Amidst the sick and dying, falling round,
He stood the faithful Pastor, and the friend;
In every call of duty ready found,
And loving his own charge unto the end.
Chisholm! thy memory long shall cherished be
In every state of this our country wide,
Both South and North in one, the bond and free
Shall speak of thee with patriotic pride!
Thy gentle manners and thy loving heart
Thy friends and classmates long shall cherish here;
Called, in mid-life, from one they loved to part;
They drop, in sympathy, the falling tear,
With sorrowing kindred, that for thee shall weep,
Who now hath gone reward in heaven to reap.

The Woodwax

The First Telegraphic Message

The Mission Of The Friends To The Emperor Nicholas

Bold in their cause they stood before the Czar,
Careless alike of splendor and of power;
To bear their witness 'gainst the coming war,
Which over Europe darkly 'gan to lower:
Of Love, Forgiveness, and of Peace they spoke,
The laws which Christ unto the nations gave;
Which king, nor people never can revoke,
And which alone can king, or people save.
They pleaded, in behalf of suffering man,
The countless evils, which from war must flow;
Moved, deeply moved, ere yet the strife began,
By thought of human agony and woe;
And fearless spake the threatening of the Lord,
“Who take the sword shall perish by the sword!”

Be of Good Courage

Ye who against the evils of our lot
Alone, and single-handed do contend;
Faint not! though you to greatest straits are brought,
And earthly succor fail, and earthly friend.
Near you in sympathy the angels stand,
Their unseen hosts encompass you around;
Strong, and unconquerable the glorious band,
And loud their songs, and hymns of victory sound.
And near you, though invisible, are those,
The good and just of every age, and clime;
Who, while on earth, have fought the self-same foes,
And won the fight, through faith and love sublime;
Let not the hosts of sin inspire a fear,
For lo! far mightier hosts are ever near!

To An Ancient Locust-Tree, Opposite Carltonville

Why stand'st thou here alone, when all thy mates,
That crowded by the river's bank are gone?
From near a century thy history dates,
Amidst new scenes thou standest now alone!
How changed yon fields! how changed the river too,
When on its bank thy tiny form upsprung!
Swift cars and streets and work shops now we view,
Where once were groves and fields, when thou wast young.
On Nature's wild, yet beautiful domain,
Man by his arts encroaches more and more;
Acrost the river broad he throws his chain,
And builds the solid bridge from shore to shore;
Yet still thy top with milk-white flowers is crowned,
And summer breezes waft thy fragrance round.

A Walk In The Pastures

[O, cleave not to the things of earth]

Nature Intelligible

The Great Facts Of Christ's History

The traveller sees afar the mountain rise,
And thinks that soon he'll reach, and scale its height;
He hastens on, but finds to his surprise,
No nearer grows the object to his sight.
So the great facts of Jesus' history stand,
While onward still we journey day by day;
In youth we see them seeming near at hand,
And think to master them without delay:
But, in the soul's horizon, high they tower
Above our common thoughts, and common ways,
And a long life will scarcely lend the power,
(So full is life of trifles and delays,)
To reach at last the glorious mount of God,
And climb the heights, on which the Savior trod.

Freedom National, Slavery Sectional

'Tis written by God's finger on our land,
On mountains, prairies, lakes, and mighty streams,
'Tis thundered by the ocean on the strand,
From sun and stars in quenchless light it beams,
This land to Freedom is for aye ordained!
'Twas this inspired the roving Indian's breast,
'Twas this our fathers by the sword maintained,
'Tis this which bids us feel for the oppressed.
Then what are human laws, on parchment writ,
Fastening on man's free limbs the heavy chain;
Interpreted by learned jurists' wit,
Laws born of pride of birth, and lust of gain;
To those eternal laws, of God's decree,
Forever sounding forth, That Man Is Free?

Christ Abiding Forever

I followed Christ, and vainly hoped on earth
That he would stay, and in the flesh would dwell;
I knew not that He came of heavenly birth,
As doth the loved disciple of Him tell.
Sudden He left me here! and much I grieved,
And wandered on in sorrow and alone,
Till in his Resurrection I believed;
Then He appeared again, who just had gone;
Spake of his kingdom, which must soon prevail
O'er all the earth, and evermore remain;
The foes which for a time would it assail;
Then He ascended up to heaven again,
Sending the Spirit, that the heart doth fill
With joy and peace and power to do his will.

The South River At Sunset

On Receiving A Flower From the Rev. C. H. A. Dall, in India.

Fair flower! from one who toils in distant land,
Preaching a Gospel sent the world to save;
Welcome! for thou wast plucked by his own hand,
And safe hast reached me here o'er land and wave.
Why need I ask, “what tidings dost thou bear?”
When in thy form a Father's love I see,
Who for the grass, and tender flower doth care;
Much more for us, wherever we may be.
Dear friend! though now with dangers compassed round,
And far from home, and all the heart holds dear;
Still mayest thou be as ever faithful found,
Trusting in God without one anxious fear;
Whose Word will hush all strife, and bring the day,
When wars from the whole earth shall pass away.

Hymn

Sung at the Dedication of Plummer Hall, Salem, Oct. 6, 1857.

Philosophy And Religion

A stern philosophy it is, which says,
Bear with thy lot, O man! thou canst not change
The will of God, nor alter aught his ways;
For this would be all nature to derange;
'Tis the fixed law of nature men should die,
And thou must, in thy turn, that law obey;
To view thy fate with calm indifference try,
And naught of sorrow, nor of fear betray.
Not so Religion, with its heavenly voice,
Speaks to the suffering, dying sons of men!
It bids their sinking hearts in hope rejoice,
Declares that man, though dead, shall live again;
Points to the Savior, who, e'en from the grave,
Has power, above all nature's might, to save.

The Day Begins to Dawn

The Day begins to dawn, O blessed word!
That doth our darkness with its light illume;
In the long, cheerless night of sorrow heard,
It comes to banish from the mind its gloom;
Bidding it wake again to life, and joy,
In faith, and hope its daily tasks pursue;
Wisely for good each day on earth employ,
With brighter worlds than this still kept in view.
Though vanished from our sight, our friends still live,
Starlike and pure in Hope's immortal sphere;
And to our souls a heavenly peace they give,
While, subject to life's cares, we linger here;
Till the pale dawn become the glorious day,
And sorrow, pain, and death shall flee away.

On The Late Mild Winter

With spring-like mildness passeth, day by day,
The winter months; the wild flowers bloom,
And careless of the cold their charms display;
Why on our faces rests a cloud of gloom?
Do we not see in this mild season, sent
For man's relief, a providential care?
Shall we not learn a lesson of content,
And with less favored ones our blessings share?
All things are providential. Yet more plain
We see God's hand, when tempered is the wind
To the shorn lamb, and want and pain
Are ministered unto by angels kind;
Than when in Nature's course there is no change,
And naught occurs, which we, like this, call “strange!”

The Evergreen

If here the imaginative Greek had lived,
And seen thy lively green, through the dead grass
And leafless shrubs threading its devious way;
He might have fancied thee, fair Color's self,
And called thee Evergreen! And fabled thus.
That, when the winter's cold had killed the grass,
And robbed the forest of its emerald hue;
Thou didst escape; and, hiding in the swamp,
Was there transformed into this beauteous vine;
Which still preserves, unchanged, the summer's green,
When it has vanished from the hill and plain.

Hindoo Converts On the Domestic Trials of Hindoo Converts.

Report of Unitarian Mission in India.

“I came to cast a fire into the earth,”
The Savior said, that error shall consume,
The false beliefs, which in the mind have birth,
And with the Truth its inmost depths illume.
And what will I, if now it kindled be,
And natural kindred for a time divide?
The end of all their trials I foresee,
And heavenly mansions for their rest provide.
“Endure unto the end!” That cheering word
Doth still encourage all his chosen saints;
They look to Him, their Master, and their Lord,
Whene'er in trials sore the spirit faints;
Patient endure the danger, and the strife,
And tried, receive at length the Crown of Life!

The Soul's Invitation

Morning Hymn for a little Child

Nature Teaches only Love

Well reason they, who from the birds, and flowers
Would prove that God is all a God of Love;
For feelings, that transcend e'en reason's powers,
To all mankind the same great doctrine prove.
'Tis true the fire, and tempest work his will,
Yet not in wrath, but for the good of man;
What seems to us with tear-dimmed eyes but ill,
Is still a part of one all-perfect plan!
The good of man, this is the gracious end,
For which all things were made on earth, in heaven;
To this alone forever do they tend,
For this alone to man were all things given;
Thus Nature with the Scriptures doth accord,
For God is Love declares the Sacred Word.

The First Atlantic Telegraph

With outward signs, as well as inward life,
The world is hastening onward to its end!
With higher purposes our Age is rife,
Than those to which with grovelling minds we tend.
For lo! beneath the Atlantic's stormy breast
Is laid, from shore to shore, the Electric Wire;
And words, with speed of thought, from east to west
Dart to and fro on wings that never tire.
May never man, to higher objects blind,
Forget by whom this miracle was wrought;
But worship and adore the Eternal Mind,
Which gave at length to man the wondrous thought;
And on wise-hearted men bestowed the skill
His Providential Purpose to fulfill.

Life and Death

Men live and die in secret; none can see
When lighting up, or going out the flame,
Save the All-Seeing eye; frail mortals, we
Call death and life, what are but so in name.
Death is the living to thyself in sin,
Which thou dost pleasure, ease, or grandeur call;
Nor even now death may for thee begin,
Before the shadows of the funeral pall;
Life is the lifting up which thou dost feel,
When thy feet follow where love bids thee go;
A life beyond disease, or severing steel,
Which naught but Him who gives it fears below;
Such be thy life! and thou in heaven shalt live,
When men unto the earth thy body give.

Lines On The Old Danvers Burying Ground

On Seeing The Portrait of Helen Ruthven Waterston

Gazing on some higher sphere,
Far, far off, and yet so near!
Thou dost join, with mortal's sight,
Angel's vision clear and bright.
Not with vain and curious eye
Dost thou gaze beyond the sky;
But with warm admiring look,
As if thou its life partook;
And to thee were here foreshown
Scenes to earthly minds unknown.
Yet, as mortal, thou dost gaze
Far beyond the solar blaze;
And with love, unmixed with fear,
Dost behold heaven's portals near!
Who would thee on earth detain?
Our sad loss, thy happy gain;
In the many mansions fair,
Which the Savior doth prepare;
Parents, child, again shall meet,
Joy unclouded, bliss complete!

Hymn

The Promise of The Spirit

The Moss and Its Teachings

How often pass we by the works of God
Unnoticed, and forget his presence too!
The sea, the sky, the plain, and mountain top,
All these attract our gaze, and make us feel
That mighty Being's Presence, who first formed,
And still sustains the world in which we live.
And yet the tiny moss, which the child's found,
And so admires, to the reflecting tells
The same great truth, too oft by man forgot!
That God is everywhere, his power the same.
Gaze at the moss' varied tints, and arm
Thine eye with microscopic power. Behold
With what a wondrous skill each leaf is made,
Each stalk, a tree, rises above the mould;
Forming, with countless more, a beauteous grove.
Like mightier forests, wilted by the sun,
And covered black with dust, it droops and dies.
Refreshed and washed by showers it lifts its head,
Expands its shrunken boughs, puts on fresh hues,
As grateful for the timely-falling rain.
Think you God's presence here is less displayed,
Than in the forest of high towering oaks;
Which have, for centuries, withstood the storms?
That less than they, it needs the Maker's care?
Who scattered on the rock its dust-like seed,
Preparing thus the way for giant pines,
And mighty oaks to lift their forms on high?
Who hid the mosses 'neath the polar snow,
To feed the reindeer through the winter months,
Or save the life of far-adventuring man?
To humblest things the highest are allied;
And the low moss, on which man careless treads,
Hath with the noblest forms a unity;
And like them, too, an end for which twas made.
Scattered o'er all the earth the mosses grow,
On loftiest mountain and in deepest glen,
In gloomy forest and in open plain;
That no where man may come, and look around,
Without a witness of God's care and love.

On the Bunyan Tableau

Behold, O Christian! to the life displayed
The pilgrim's progress through this evil world;
The many foes by which he is delayed,
Apollyon's fiery darts against him hurled,
The vain allurements of the city spread
Like fowler's net to take him in their snare,
Its riches and its pomps, to which are wed
The souls of men; the castle of Despair
With dungeon deep, and Error's fatal hill.
And friends behold, who help the pilgrim here,
And arm him 'gainst his foes with heavenly skill;
Fair visions too his fainting spirit cheer,
The land of Beulah, and the city bright
To which he goes, revealed to human sight!

The Lament Of The Flowers

The Voice In The Poplars

How Faith Comes

Faith in the Lord how can I find?
I hear you say. Alas so blind!
Dost thou not see the works He's made,
And all the glory there displayed;
The glory of the morning hour,
And that which decks the lowly flower?
Dost thou not of the Savior read,
His wondrous words, His every deed,
An act of pure and holy love,
To lift the earth-bound soul above.
And see'st thou not the heavenly light,
That's risen on the ancient night;
Which banishes from death its gloom,
And shows the world beyond the tomb?
Faith comes from sight, when clear and true,
It comes, says Paul, from hearing too,
It comes from doing too the Word,
Obeying what we've seen and heard;
From humble toil, self-sacrifice,
When man his lower self denies;
And follows Him, who died to save,
And his own life for others gave.

The Poet

As one who 'midst a choir alone doth sing,
When voices harsh fill all his soul with pain,
So that from even a note he would refrain,
And flee away as with a dove's swift wing,
Yet for Religion's sake you see him stay,
And try to raise her service what he may;—
So doth the Poet live amidst his age!
Though at the first his lyre he scarce can hear,
He does not drown its discords in his rage,
Nor fly where they will not offend his ear;
But for their very sakes who spoil his songs,
His heaven-taught strain he more and more prolongs;
Till one by one they with his paean blend,
And all in one harmonious concert end.

The Set Times, And The Boundaries of Nations, Appointed By God

Not of self-will are States & Nations born;
Their times & bounds are fixed by God's decree;
Thus were these States from parent Country torn,
And, at his Word, became forever free.
To seek the Lord, to do his righteous will,
For this He prospered them in low estate;
And, that He might his purposes fulfil,
Amidst earth's mightiest Kingdoms made them great.
But hidden oft His purpose from our eyes,
As to the people & the kings of old,
To whom He sent his teachers, prophets wise
By whom their righteous downfall He foretold;
Would, O my Country! thou their fate might'st read,
And even now their prophets' warnings heed!

The Cemetery of Harmony Grove

Well is this place a cemetery called;
For here do we unto the earth commit,
With hope in Christ, the forms of those we love;
And say our friends have fallen asleep in Him,
To wait, with us, his Coming, long foretold.
So named they first the spot where martyrs slept,
And saints whose faith had overcome the world;
To show that death o'er them had lost his power.
Here once the sower came, and sowed his seed,
And watched the springing of the new green blade,
So different from the mouldering form below,
And pondered on the lesson Nature taught.
For she, with faithful trust, restores the grain,
Which man unto her bosom doth commit;
Yet tells him not, that he shall live again;
Or only in dim type obscurely speaks.
She makes but credible, what God reveals.
By revelation taught we clearly see
The hidden meaning of her countless forms,
Differing in glory on the earth, in heaven;
And, by analogy, the springing grain
Doth teach us of the body that shall be,
The spiritual body, that shall this succeed;
For reason's powers are limited and weak,
Nor fully can the mystery comprehend.
Earth can restore but that which is her own,
Give back the grain again an hundred fold,
Perpetuate her kinds, beasts, insects, birds,
The individual in the species lost.
Christ is the Resurrection, and the Life;
And, at his Coming, them who sleep shall bring.
With the same beauty do the flowers return,
And with like foliage is the tree new clothed;
But with more glorious bodies shall they come,
Whose life on earth was hid with Christ in God;
When He, who is our Life and Hope, appears.
E'en now are earth and man, though mortal, touched
With foregleams of the bright, immortal dawn.
They followed not myths cunningly devised,
Who have proclaimed the Coming of the Lord;
For they beheld his glory on the mount,
And heard the voice, which came to him from heaven.
No more, as once, neglected and forgot,
A source of superstitious fears to all,
The resting place of those we mourn remains.
Planted with trees, vocal with songs of birds,
Whose music morn and eve fills all the grove;
Adorned with flowers of every hue and kind,
With cheerful hopes we consecrate the grave.
Engraved on humble stone, or splendid tomb,
The holy texts of scripture meet the eye;
Or words of poet speaking heart to heart,
That tell men of a higher life to come.
While thus I tread these much frequented paths,
And hold communion with the loved and mourned;
The mystic veil between us thinner grows,
And nearer seems the time, when Christ shall come
To abolish death, and triumph o'er the grave.

Preparation for Life's Voyage

Prepared, the sailor o'er the ocean sails;
His ship is strong, and skillful are the crew;
Watchful his glance to see what wind prevails,
When to the breeze he spreads his canvass new;
With chart and compass he no danger fears
From rock, or reef, or treacherous current strong;
From clime to clime, and port to port he steers
In his stout ship borne by the waves along.
Why thoughtless then, O man, wilt thou embark
Upon Life's sea, no chart or compass thine?
There tempests oft prevail, and dangers dark
Lie hid like rocks that lurk beneath the brine;
And oft man's bark, with all its swelling pride,
Sinks in the waves, or drives o'er ocean wide.

The Slowness of Belief in a Spiritual World

The astronomer with patient, searching gaze
Doth with his tube the depths of space explore;
Shows Neptune's orb, or, 'neath the solar blaze,
Reveals a world by man unseen before.
Justly the world rewards his arduous toil,
And claims to share the glory of his fame;
Beyond the boundaries of his native soil
From land to land the breezes bear his name.
But he who doth a Spirit-world reveal,
Not far in space, but near to every soul;
Which naught but mists of sense and sin conceal,
(Would from men's sight those mists at length might roll!)
He is with incredulity received,
Or with a slow, reluctant faith believed.

Hymn

The Dew

The Triennial

Welcome

Written for the Essex Institute Fair, Held at Salem Sept. 4th, 1860.

The Child's Answer

Freedom And Union

By deeds not words we prove our inmost mind,
For things, not names, we labor and contend;
In noble souls the two are still combined,
And each to each a nobleness they lend!
Freedom and Union are not names, but things,
By deeds our fathers proved for them their love;
In vain with words like these the country rings,
If to the things themselves we recreant prove.
In this alone all patriots agree,
To labor for their country's highest good;
And, by the fruit it bears, to judge the tree,
However party names are understood.
'Tis not the title that makes good the claim,
But nobler deeds, which justify the name.

The Cross

On reading the Memorial of John White Browne

Forgetful thou to manhood's years had'st grown,
Thou knelt'st in Spring upon the grassy sod
To greet the early Flower in fragrance blown,
And own the presence of its Maker, God.
Forgetful? No! but mindful rather thou
Of what true manhood must forever be;
Before each beauteous thing it loves to bow,
With a child's faith, and child's humility;
But, joined with these, a courage too was thine,
In Freedom's cause, boldly to do and dare;
Each worldly honor, for her sake, to resign,
And with her humblest flower all things share;
Nature, with early flower and falling leaf,
Doth mourn a life, like thine, should be so brief!

Hymn

One generation passeth away, and another generation cometh: but the earth abideth for ever. Ecclesiastes 1:4.

What of Our Country?

The Hour Before the Dawn

The darkest hour that falls upon the earth,
Is that before the coming of the dawn;
When light with darkness struggles for its birth,
And help Divine for man seems oft withdrawn!
In vain the eye would penetrate the gloom,
And look beyond the darkness of the hour;
To see of Wickedness the fated doom,
Of Virtue's Kingdom come with mightier power.
Thus when, amidst convulsive throes of old,
Christ's Kingdom in its glory should appear;
He the dark hour before the day foretold,
In signs and wonders to his followers clear;
And bade them earnest watch, and earnest pray,
Until in splendor rose his peaceful day.

State Rights

Wisely each state for its own rights contends;
And jealous is of the whole Country's sway;
From arbitrary power those rights defends,
Nor tamely would a tyrant's will obey.
But to itself, meanwhile, it false may prove,
Seeking its own, its ease, its wealth, its power;
Acknowledging no more the bond of love,
Its Country's good, which was its nuptial dower.
Our Country's good! Ah, here we all have erred,
Unmindful of her good and noble fame;
Each state its separate interest has preferred,
And gloried even in the Nation's shame;
Nor seen, that what its greatness each may deem,
Without the general good, is but a dream!

The Rights of Man

With narrow view each state its own would claim,
Forgetful of the greater common good;
Forgetful of its heritage of fame,
When they the mightiest foe on earth withstood.
The Rights of Man seem now a short-lived dream,
An abstract good, an unsubstantial thing;
Of boastful orators the annual theme,
Or glory of which poets vainly sing.
Thus we our selfish ends too oft pursue,
Blinded by avarice, or lust of power;
Seeking our own, yet to ourselves untrue,
Unfaithful to our Country, and the hour;
Nor know that in the nation's good each state,
Whate'er it boasts, alone is truly great.

A Longing For The Spring

The Abolition Of Serfdom In Russia

Fear not: for they that are with us are more than they that are with them. 2 Kings 6:16.

The wicked and the base do compass round
The meek and humble in their righteous way,
And, with fierce onset and the trumpet's sound,
They seek the servants of the Lord to slay;
They trust in wealth, or in the cruel sword,
Vain idols that cannot defend, or save!
They fear no threatenings of God's holy Word,
But, trusting in themselves alone, are brave.
But though no human help the righteous know,
They fear not in the last, the trying hour;
God, through his gracious love, to them doth show
The unseen hosts and ensigns of his power;
Who compass them about on every side,
In whose protection they may safe confide.

Hymn

Nature's Sympathy with Freedom

Christ's Capture In The Garden A Paraphrase

Song

Words Of Love To A Parent

The Comet

Strange visitant! that burst'st upon our sight,
And with thy meteor-splendors fill'st the sky;
From what far distant bourn, what starless night,
Com'st thou, in terror clad, to every eye!
Amidst the stars' unquenched, eternal fires,
I see thee like some mighty warrior burn;
Who, with his flaming sword upraised, aspires
A seat among their peaceful spheres to earn.
But vain the strife! Soon in the depths of space
Thou'lt vanish, and thy place no more be found!
The astronomer thy path may never trace,
Nor know the years of thine appointed round;
While moving on, in its benignant sphere,
Nightly each star the heart of man doth cheer.

Each Day a Prophecy

What image of a higher, holier day
Does each returning sun earth's children bring?
Bright as o'er land and sea he takes his way,
He seems the herald of the heavenly King;
Before him fly the murky shades of night,
That veil from sight earth's plains and mountains high;
The sea's thick rolling vapors take their flight,
And vanish upward in the kindling sky.
I gaze upon the scene, and from within
A light too streams upon the suffering earth;
I see the promised day of God begin,
And all earth's children share the second birth;
And to my mind the image doth unfold
Of Life and Joy and Peace so long foretold.

The Influence Of The Night on Faith And Imagination

The day with well-known duties now is o'er;
No more, by its clear light, each thing I see
Distinct and plain to sight, or reason's power.
As fade familiar objects on my sight,
And on my ear the sounds of labor cease,
The higher faculties assert their power,
Imagination and adoring faith.
And now the night has come, mysterious night!
To call away my spirit from the earth,
That faith may quickened be in things unseen.
With mind no longer bent on daily tasks,
Or fixed on earth with its brief term of years;
Upward I gaze, and feel my soul expand,
And to its native height majestic tower.
Akin to mystery is the soul of man,
And in the stars he feels that mystery solved.
Not in the narrow space, which we call life,
I feel the boundaries of my being end;
To those vast cycles is my soul allied,
Which yonder orbs in mystic circles trace.
To me is given to call them each by name,
And, in the time to come, familiar grow
With all their hosts, as now with flowers of earth.
No more my mind, to one small orb confined,
Narrows its view; but flies from world to world,
From sun to sun, swifter than morning light.
Lift up your eyes, ye denizens of earth!
And raise your thoughts above its narrow sphere.
Let yonder countless stars a lesson teach.
Think not to earth, and earth alone, confined
This mortal race, with its attendant forms;
But, worthier thought, to each revolving sphere
Its own peculiar habitants assigned,
With varying life, to suit each changing scene.
Perhaps in yon fair planet-world there dwells
A happier race, though mortal, than on earth;
Where death is but a change to higher life,
Without its sufferings and without its fears.
There war may be unknown, and men in peace
And friendly intercourse united live.
To them may come, as once to men on earth,
Angels from higher spheres to bring them gifts;
To mingle freely in their peaceful homes,
And teach them of the Father's boundless love.
Thus as I muse, my faith doth stronger grow;
Imagination soars with loftier flight;
And, as the parched plant beneath the dews,
So is my spirit by the night restored.

Sunset in Derby's Woods

My People are destroyed for lack of Knowledge.

For lack of Knowledge do my people die!
No fell diseases in our land abound,
No pestilential vapors fill the sky,
No drought, or barrenness has cursed the ground;
The harvest-fields are white on every side,
For God has given to all with liberal hand;
To none His sun and rain has He denied,
But with abundance blessed our fruitful land.
But Him, who gives to all, they have not known!
His truth, his mercy, and unfailing love;
Who sends not on one favored race alone,
His gifts and mercies from the heavens above;
Therefore the land doth mourn, and, day by day,
War wastes our fields, and doth the people slay!

Autumn Flowers

Hymn

The Poet's Plea

Why sing, amidst the strife which reigns around?
Will men the poet's heart-felt music hear?
Or will they heed the Gospel's peaceful sound,
And sheathe the sword, and break the threatening spear?
Ah no, yet unsubdued men's passions rage!
The never-ceasing conflict born within,
Or outward foes, their energies engage,
O'er which they strive the victory to win.
But still the poet midst the tumult sings,
Hoping from war and strife men's thoughts to gain;
He touches with diviner skill the strings,
And from his harp there breathes a holier strain;
Such as the watchful shepherds wondering heard,
When the still night by angels' lyres was stirred!
That strain harmonious through the war-worn earth
Shall yet be heard, and every nation move;
It tells the glories of the heavenly birth,
Heroic deeds of Faith and Christian Love.
O'er the wild tumults of the world it steals,
Calming the fury of its outward strife;
A higher, holier conflict it reveals;
The victory and the crown, Eternal Life!
The warrior hears, and drops his blood-stained sword,
No more with war's fierce flames his bosom burns;
Man in God's image is once more restored,
The golden age of Peace and Love returns;
And Nature with new beauty decks her bowers,
Scattering with lavish hand her fruits and flowers.

On The Completion Of The Pacific Telegraph

Swift to the western bounds of this wide land,
Swifter than light, the Electric Message flies;
The continent is in a moment spanned,
And furthest West to furthest East replies.
While War asunder drives the nearest states,
And doth to them all intercourse deny,
Science new bonds of Union still creates,
And the most distant brings forever nigh!
I hail this omen for our Country's cause;
For it the stars do in their courses fight!
In vain men strive against the eternal laws
Of Peace, and Liberty, and Social Right;
Rebel against the light; and hope to stay
The dawn on earth of Freedom's perfect day.

On the First Church Built by the Puritans in 1634.

Still may it stand! For Time himself has spared,
As if by miracle, the humble fane,
In which our fathers worshipped; when they dared
To seek Religious Freedom o'er the main.
Though poor and perishing unto the sight,
A glory seems to rest upon the place;
Its walls and roof are lit with heavenly light,
While we its history and purpose trace.
Their simple worship seems again restored,
Again we hear the hymn, the heart-felt prayer,
With them we listen to the preached Word,
And in each hallowed rite and service share;
Long as a sacred Relic, may we hold
The Church our fathers built to God of old.

The Barque Aurelia of Boston

The traveller At The Depot

The traveller at the depot waiting stands,
Impatient for the coming of the train;
The night is hastening on, the hour demands
That he the shelter of his home shall gain.
We, too, are travellers here! But short our stay,
And swiftly flies for each the allotted hour;
Swift as declines the sun of winter's day,
Or fades the petals of the summer's flower!
Why do we then our short probation spend,
Unmindful of the night which hastens on;
Unmindful of the soul's true goal, and end;
Until our days and years are fled and gone;
And we no nearer to our heavenly home,
Though the last hour for us on earth has come?

Salvation Is Of The Lord

“Sleeper, arise and call upon thy God!”
The master to the sleeping prophet cried;
As to and fro with anxious fear he trod,
And vainly every art for safety tried.
E'en Superstition owns a Higher Power,
And doth upon its gods in trouble call;
When mighty tempests rise, in danger's hour,
It doth before its idols prostrate fall.
And shall not we, whom Faith's bright beams illume,
Who to the One True God our worship pay,
Call on his Name, amid the deepening gloom,
Bow at his altars, at his footstool pray?
Christians, arise, and call upon your God,
Who o'er the nation lifts his chastening rod!

The Newspaper

In this one sheet, how much for thought profound,
How much for feeling deep doth meet the eye!
Here man's decease, here empire's fate is found,
And yet, with careless glance, we pass them by!
Perchance, upon one page enough we find,
On which through a long life we well might muse;
But oft with husks we fill the hungry mind,
When men the gifts of speech, and thought abuse.
Not in the many words, or books we read,
Is knowledge gained of Nature, or of man;
Oft, in a single word, lies wrapt the seed
Of changes vast, would we its meaning scan;
But lacking still the wisdom to be wise,
The Truth we seek is hidden from our eyes.

E Pluribus Unum

A higher thought than fills the narrow mind
Of selfish States, that seek some private end;
Did once these States with us together bind,
And to the Union power and glory lend.
'Twas Liberty which made us great and free,
A nation midst the nations of the earth;
A higher hope, a nobler unity,
Gave to each State a new, diviner birth!
That thought still lives, and still asserts its power
O'er selfish pride, and every hateful foe;
It guards our country in its evil hour,
And doth new life and energy bestow;
Will with a higher Freedom lead us on,
And as of old, of Many make us One.

Song

This Mortal Shall put on Immortality

Hymn

The Spirit Itself Maketh Intercession For Us

The Elm Seed

Scattered, with every breeze, I see them fly
This way and that upon the Summer air;
Trodden to dust beneath our feet they lie,
Yet not without the great Creator's care!
Some single seed his Providence directs,
That Providence, which guards & governs all;
The tiny germ through Winter it protects,
And, in the Spring-time, from its grave will call.
No more a seed; but now a growing tree,
Though scarce its slender form at first is seen;
Still, nourished & sustained, in time 'twill be
A mighty elm; from Summer's suns a screen
To man and beast, that seek its friendly shade;
And birds, that, in its boughs, their nests have made.

The Cause

The body sick, the cause we seek to find,
In head, or limb, or ever-beating heart;
Or in the secret workings of the mind,
Nor rest till we have found the suffering part.
Once found, we use our utmost power and skill
The cause itself of suffering to remove;
Nor do we bear a single pain, or ill,
Till every healing remedy we prove.
And why should Nations mighty ills endure,
War's horrid scourge, and Slavery's ancient wrong,
Nor seek to find their cause? or found, to cure?
But still from age to age their guilt prolong;
Till by some sudden shock, or slow decay,
Their greatness, like a shadow, pass away!

Outward Conquests Not Enough

'Tis not enough to overcome with arms,—
These may the body, not the mind subdue;
A mightier foe, within, the spirit harms,
Than that the armed warrior ever knew.
Here Ignorance and Error still prolong
Their ancient rule, and dread the coming light;
And, joined with them, Ambition, Pride, and Wrong
Muster their hosts, and, leagued with darkness, fight.
These not by carnal weapons are o'erthrown,
But by the power of light, and truth, and love;
Weapons the warrior's hands have never known,
Sent from the armory of God above;
Boldness to speak, the quick and powerful Word,
That sharper is than his two-edged sword!

Ship Rock

The Light Of Freedom Necessary To National Progress

When sets the sun, the traveller waits for light,
Ere he his dangerous journey shall renew;
Vain in the forest dark his sharpest sight,
Where moon and stars alike are hid from view.
The sun returns; again he onward goes,
Its light reveals all objects to his eyes;
He fears no danger now, nor lurking foes,
His path all plain and bright before him lies.
Frail Freedom's sun for us has hid its beams,
The moon and stars have e'en their light withdrawn;
Then let us wait, till once again it gleams
Upon the mountain tops, and its bright dawn
Shall the dark valleys fill with cheerful day;
Then like the traveller safe pursue our way.

Ode to Freedom

Philanthropy Before Nationality

Upon the Rights of Man, at first, was built
This free Republic, which our fathers planned;
For these, at first, their precious blood they spilt,
Though they its meaning failed to understand.
But wider still expands their mighty thought,
Raising from bondage e'en a subject race;
What to themselves, at first, but freedom brought,
Gives to the slave at length a name, and place!
But still through blood and strife the boon we gain
Against Ambition, Pride, and lust of Power;
Which on man's limbs would rivet still the chain,
When long ago has struck the appointed hour;
And Liberty proclaims throughout the earth,
That all are free and equal in their birth.

The King's Arm Chair

The Falling Leaf

National Unity

A nobler unity, than that which came
From out the conflict of our sires of old,
Which gave to us throughout the world a name
Shall we, our trials past, at length behold;
A unity of Justice and of Power,
As theirs of Freedom from a foreign foe;
Through the dark clouds, that o'er the nation lower,
We see its rising sun, its morning glow.
No more shall party spirit rule the land,
But One Great Thought inspire each freeman's breast,
The rock on which alone our cause can stand,
The Love of Man and Justice for the oppressed.
Arise, O sun of Freedom to restore
Their rights to all! Arise! and set no more!

Faith In Time Of War

I read of battles, and my faith grows weak;
Does God look down on us with pitying eye?
With loving care each day his children seek?
I ask, but hear no voice to mine reply!
When tens and hundreds dying strew the plain,
What thought, I ask, is there for one alone?
Heeds He the single sufferer's short, sharp pain?
Hears He amidst the shouts his dying groan?
Ah faithless heart! No one forsaken is,
Each soul of man is his perpetual care;
Living, or dying we are ever His,
Whose tender mercies all his creatures share;
Who, though the sword may slay, has power to save;
And gives to man the victory o'er the grave!

Hymn

The Light of Life

Man's Heart Prophesieth Of Peace

A sad confession from the heart of man
It is, that War, dark hateful War, must be;
That ever thus, e'en since the world began,
Has been on earth the dire necessity!
Behold, he says, the truth on History's page,
Written in blood upon her lengthening scroll;
The warrior's wreaths still green from age to age,
And warlike glory still man's highest goal.
But deeper look, O man, into thy heart,
And Peace, a mightier need thou there shalt see;
As yet thou know'st thy nature but in part,
What thou hast been, but not what thou shalt be!
And read the promise of God's holy Word,
That nations shall no more lift up the sword.

Hymn

The New Life of Humanity

The Statue of Flora, On the grounds of R. Brookhouse Esq, Washington Street.

Still gazing on thy wreath of carved flowers,
A sight of beauty to the passing throng!
Thou tellest of the Summer's blooming bowers,
As to the mart, or court they haste along.
And though perchance absorbed in thoughts of gain,
But few admire thy flowers, or form of grace;
Yet not upon the street thou standst in vain!
Still on some heart thou may'st thine image trace,
Recalling to the mind youth's early day;
When hills and fields so oft he wandered o'er,
When Nature o'er his soul acquired her sway,
And every scene bright hues of beauty wore;
And the stern man was once a playful boy,
Whom e'en the smallest flower could thrill with joy!

Hymn

Sung At the Unitarian Festival, in Faneuil Hall, May 26th 1863

The Tree of Liberty

As to the fruitful tree, which, in the Spring,
Puts forth its fresh, green leaves, and blossoms red,
The canker-worm doth desolation bring,
And, like a fire, o'er all its branches spread;—
E'en thus, fair Liberty, thy tree doth stand!
Which at the first, did leaves and blossoms hold,
And with its boughs o'ershadowed all the land;
No more with verdure clad, as seen of old!
But from neglect, from want of care and toil,
When now the harvest time was drawing near,
Become of basest men the prey and spoil;
Who blighted have the promise of the year;
And would the tree, which filled the earth with joy,
As well as its fair fruits, at once destroy!

Hymn

Our Country's Dead

The Intuitions Of The Soul

In every soul is born some thought of God,
Of Beauty, or of Wisdom, Power, or Love;
No one so grovelling on the earth has trod,
But sought on sun-bright wings to soar above.
For man in God's own image first was made,
And dimly in himself these thoughts beholds;
The same in Nature too he sees displayed,
As she to him her glorious book unfolds.
Thus ever upward doth our being tend,
As we more clearly these great thoughts discern;
And ask of God his heavenly grace to lend,
That we as children all the truth may learn;
That in our souls, unclouded and divine,
The Life, the Light of men, may ever shine!

Still a Day To Live

The Vagrant at the Church Door

Health of Body dependent on the Soul

The Crisis

With the great thought, thy Country's cause, its life,
Mix not the selfish end of party gain;
The Patriot knows no party in the strife,
When called his Country's freedom to maintain.
Against the principles, which make us free,
Against the rights of Man, our foes contend;
And at the root of Liberty's fair tree
The axe is laid, by such as these befriend.
Choose ye this day, whose service ye prefer,
For Freedom, or for Bondage, will ye fight?
No more the duty of the hour defer,
To follow Truth, to vindicate the Right;
But give thyself to Freedom's holy cause,
Thy Country's honor, and thy Country's laws.

The Forsaken Harvest Field

The Freedmen of the Mississippi Valley

Wakeful I think upon the suffering race,
That, fled from bondage, claim our fostering care;
What tongue their want can tell, or pen can trace,
Or who the story of their woes could bear?
The mother with her child, the aged one,
Now unprotected from the wintry blast;
Soon, soon for them the winter will be gone,
Soon, without aid, their sufferings here be past!
Help, till the storms of winter shall be o'er,
When their own hands abundance will supply;
Give all thou canst, food, raiment, from thy store,
Nor aught thou hast these suffering ones deny;
Lest they, escaped from Slavery's hateful chain,
Should find but graves in Freedom's fair domain.

Dying Words of John Foster “I Can Pray, And That's a Glorious Thing.”

Home and Heaven

With the same letter heaven and home begin,
And the words dwell together in the mind;
For they who would a home in heaven win,
Must first a heaven in home begin to find.
Be happy here, yet with a humble soul,
That looks for perfect happiness in heaven;
For what thou hast is earnest of the whole,
Which to the faithful shall at last be given.
As once the patriarch, in vision blest,
Saw the swift angels hastening to and fro;
And the lone spot, whereon he lay to rest,
Became to him the gate of heaven below;
So may to thee, when life itself is done,
Thy home on earth and heaven above be one.

The Search For The Truth Not Vain

Is that Philosophy, which doth declare,
That man the Truth may seek, but never find?
Do all its teachings end but in despair?
Knows it but this, that Wisdom's self is blind?
Such might the ancient sages have confessed,
On whom the Truth, undimmed, had never shone;
Not he, whose mind its noon-day beams have blessed,
And who, from earliest years, its words have known.
Those words to Him who spake them ever lead,
To Christ, to God, who doth the truth inspire;
Not vain the search, if in his Word we read,
And of the Sacred Oracles inquire;
Where he, who seeks the Truth, will surely find
The world's True Light, which lightens every mind.

On The Three Hundredth Anniversary of Shakespeare's Birthday

Shakespeare, whose life once filled an English home,
With childhood's mirth and manhood's noble cheer,
What time our fathers to these wilds did roam;
We hail thee, mighty Bard! without a peer!
To thee did Nature's countless forms unfold
Their meaning, hidden from the common eye;
The earth, the sea, the sky, their secrets told,
And man's deep spirit did to thine reply.
By Avon's banks we tread; thy home we see,
The church, where still in peace thy bones repose;
Join with the throng, that holds thy Jubilee,
And guards thy fame, that, with each century, grows;
No longer to thy native land confined,
For the whole world may claim thy glorious mind.

Hymn

The Way of the Righteous Easy

Untimely Arguments

Thou arguest wisely, with profoundest skill,
Forgetful that the world doth onward move;
That, swifter than thy thought, the active will
Doth all thy arguments but useless prove.
He, who on shipboard has outsailed his foe,
Cares not for lessons in the sailing art;
The other may the science better know,
But he has gained, e'en at the first, the start.
'Tis not the time for speech, or calm debate,
When, like the waves, event event succeeds;
Thy reasonings may be good, but come too late,
To serve man's good, or check his evil deeds;
Already doth the event the case decide,
And faithful from the faithless too divide.

Hymn

The Voice of Nature in Youth And Age

Hymn

Christ's Invitation in the Apocalypse

Hymn In Drought

The Rain

The rain descends; each drop some drooping flower,
Or parched blade drinks in with grateful haste;
Nor is there, from the plenteous falling shower,
A drop that nature will permit to waste.
Upon the river falls the pattering rain
In countless drops, that soon are seen no more;
The river swells, and overflows the plain,
And richer harvests wave than e'er before.
Nor think, that on the surface of the rock
The rain drop falls in vain, a useless thing;
From out the crevice of the granite block
The savin grows, and lichens to it cling;
And there, when all around is parched and dry,
The thirsty birds will come and find a full supply.

The Fair Morning

The clear bright morning, with its scented air,
And gaily waving flowers, is here again;
Man's heart is lifted with the voice of prayer,
And peace descends, as falls the gentle rain;
The tuneful birds, that all the night have slept,
Take up, at dawn, the evening's dying lay;
When sleep upon their eyelids gently crept,
And stole, with stealthy craft, their song away.
High overhead the forest's swaying boughs
Sprinkle with drops the traveller on his way
He hears afar the bells of tinkling cows,
Driven to pasture at the break of day;
With vigorous step he passes swift along,
Making the woods reecho with his song.

The Clouded Morning

The morning comes, and thickening clouds prevail,
Hanging like curtains all the horizon round,
Or overhead in heavy stillness sail,
So still is day, it seems like night profound!
Scarce by the city's din the air is stirred,
And dull and deadened comes its every sound;
The cock's shrill, piercing voice subdued is heard,
By the thick folds of muffling vapors drowned.
Dissolved in mists the hills and trees appear,
Their outlines lost and blended with the sky;
And well-known objects, that to all are near,
No longer seem familiar to the eye;
But with fantastic forms they mock the sight,
As when we grope amid the gloom of night.

Nature Repeats Her Lessons

Nature repeats her lessons; day and night,
With the same solemn words, to all return;
To all the morning comes with cheering light,
And over all the stars of evening burn.
The seasons, to their coming ever true,
Repeat the lesson of the varied year;
The early flower, the fading leaf we view,
But their oft-spoken words we fail to hear.
For thoughts of pleasure, or of sordid gain,
Possess the heart and cloud the seeing eyes;
Nature in youth and manhood speaks in vain,
For trifles light her wisdom we despise;
And e'en in age at last, when wiser grown,
But half her meaning to our minds is known.

What Is A Word?

To Charles W. Felt Esq. On His New Type-Setting Machine

While men, in War's dread service, tax their powers
New weapons to invent to harm and slay;
A new invention, Charles, thou hast made ours,
And one prophetic of a brighter day;
When man with man no longer shall contend,
Save with the nobler weapons of the mind;
When War on earth forevermore shall end,
And Peace all nations shall forever bind;
The Press with mightier power the truth diffuse,
And like the sun each darkened land illume;
And none the light of Knowledge shall refuse
To those who sit in ignorance and gloom;
But all shall Liberty & Knowledge share,
Who see the sun, or breathe the vital air!

The Young Drummer Boy of Libby Prison

An Incident Related by Capt. James Hussey.

Inward Direction

With outward impulse, running to and fro,
How many men with restless minds we meet,
(Who but an outward impulse only know)
In the swift cars, or in the busy street!
By man they're sent, and man's behests fulfil,
They hear no other voice within their souls;
Nor have they learned to obey a higher will,
Which earthly hopes, and earthly fears controls:
They know not whence they came, nor whither tend;
In trifling, vain pursuits their lives are spent;
Unmindful of life's highest, holiest end,
For which its days and years to us were lent;
To learn the Father's will, his words to hear,
And find his Presence with us always near!

The Cherry Birds

The Soul's Questioning Of The Universe, And Its Beginning

Hymn

Sung at the Eulogy on Abraham Lincoln June 1st 1865.

Soul-Sickness

How many of the body's health complain,
When they some deeper malady conceal;
Some unrest of the soul, some secret pain,
Which thus its presence doth to them reveal.
Vain would we seek, by the physician's aid,
A name for this soul-sickness e'er to find;
A remedy for health and strength decayed,
Whose cause and cure are wholly of the mind.
To higher nature is the soul allied,
And restless seeks its being's Source to know;
Finding nor health, nor strength in aught beside;
How often vainly sought in things below!
Whether in sunny clime, or sacred stream,
Or plant of wondrous powers of which we dream.

Song of the Early Spring

Sensibility to the Beauty and Fragrance of Flowers

How freely do the flowers their wealth bestow
Of beauteous tints on every passer by!
How freely, too, their fragrance round them throw!
To none, who pass, their gifts do they deny.
But though for all their beauty they dispense,
Alike for all their fragrance round them fling,
Yet is there wanting oft a finer sense,
Than to their blooming bowers we thoughtless bring.
So, when I meet them in the vale, or wood,
Or, on the hill, their varied charms survey;
Blest with some purer thought, some happier mood,
They to my soul a new delight convey;
And, to their well-known haunts, as I draw near,
More fair they seem, more fragrant they appear.

What Is The Word?

What is the word? I often hear men say,
Greeting each other in the mart or street;
Seeking for something new, from day to day,
Of friend, or neighbor, whom they chance to meet.
The question wakes in me the thoughtful mind,
Do they receive the word they ask to hear?
Or is it only like the passing wind,
Or empty echo dying on the ear?
The word, O man, is not some idle sound,
Lost on the ear almost as soon as heard;
Unto the wise life-giving it is found.
And by its voice the inmost soul is stirred;
It falls not on the mind a barren seed,
But springeth up in fruitful thought, or deed.

The Sight of the Ocean

Prayer For Rain

Hymn On The Logos

The Light Still Shining In The Darkness

Hath The Rain A Father? Or Who Hath Begotten The Drops of Dew? Job 38:28

We say, “It rains.” Slow of belief the Age;
Its very words its unbelief doth show;
Forgot the lessons of the sacred page,
Spoken by men of faith so long ago!
No farther than they see, men's faith extends;
The mighty changes of the earth and sky
To them are causeless all, where Science ends;
An Unseen Cause they know not, or deny.
They hear not in the whirlwind, or the storm,
The mighty Voice, which spake to man of old;
They see not in the clouds of heaven his form,
Nor in his ceaseless works his power behold;
Who maketh small the countless drops of rain,
And sends soft showers upon the springing grain.

“It is vain to say, that this is the country of the ‘white man.’ It is the country of man.” Charles Sumner.

True, noble words, which thrill the very soul,—
This country is for man, the human race;
Words, too, that should our policy control,
If we would not our fatherland disgrace.
This country is for all, of every name,
Reserved by Providence' all-gracious plan,
That each his proper dignity might claim,—
The right to be, and feel himself a man.
Here may the oppressed of foreign nations come,
And find, in our wide country, peace and rest;
The roving Indian reach a settled home,
In the broad prairies of the fertile West;
And here the slave, to manhood born at last,
Forget the wrongs and miseries of the past.

The East India Marine Museum

A noble company, that early band,
Who left their homes to sail across the sea;
And distant voyages to the Orient planned,
The land of wealth, and dark Idolatry.
Behold their Monument! the rich and rare,
Gathered, with cost and pains, from every clime;
And, in this spacious hall, preserved with care,
To interest and instruct the future time;
To cherish in their sons the spirit brave,
Which gave to Salem its world-wide renown;
That thus their exploits, on the ocean wave,
From age to age might still be handed down;
And distant generations might behold,
And guard the trust, more precious far than gold.

Finishing The Work

While men with ceaseless strife, in Church and State,
About the means of doing good contend;
The wounded man is left unto his fate,
And, in the means, forgotten is the end.
Lo, for the thousand years, the Church has striven
To guide the nations in their heavenward way;
But, by conflicting sects and dogmas riven,
Too oft, alas! her light has led astray.
And lo the State, still struggling to be free,
Oft wastes the precious years in wordy strife;
Forgetting the great end of Liberty,
And the great work of every nation's life;
To raise the low, instruct the darkened mind,
And live in lasting peace with all mankind.

‘O Lord, How Long?’

Our Soldiers' Graves

The Still Small Voice

Indian Relics

The Veil upon the Heart

Why cannot I make plain, to sinful men,
The heavenly kingdom that within me lies?
That kingdom lies not far beyond their ken,
Although its glory's hidden from their eyes.
A veil there is! a veil, like that of old,
Which hid the Christ from Jewish, Gentile mind;
That they could not his wondrous life behold,
But to his wisdom and his grace were blind!
That veil is on the heart; unfelt, unseen
By worldly men, who will not truth receive;
In vain heaven's light would penetrate the screen,
That they might on the truth of God believe;
His glorious kingdom to their souls is near,
They see it not! nor can its welcome hear!

True Knowledge Necessary for the Voyage of Life

Ships on the ocean meet, each other hail,
“Where from?” they say? and, “Whither art thou bound?”
Response is given; then on their voyage they sail,
Cheered by the cry, though dangers still surround.
Whither, O man! and whence, o'er life's dark sea,
Dost thou thy frail and tossing vessel steer?
Knowest thou that ocean's depth and mystery?
And canst thou to those questions answer clear,
Then mayst thou cheerful on Life's voyage proceed,
Nor dread its storms, nor fear its currents strong;
The soul, from darkling doubt and error freed,
By favoring gales is swiftly borne along;
While driven by adverse winds, by tempests tost,
The skeptic's bark, on unknown shores, is lost!

Sonnet

I gazed upon the silent burial-ground,
Where many forms lay mingling with the dust;
The gloomy shades of night had veiled it round,
And nought I saw to inspire a Christian's trust.
“Where are the forms,” I said, “that once I knew,—
Of friends and kindred, whom I love so well?
Have they for ever vanished from my view?
Ah! who will come their blessed abode to tell?”
But, as I spake, I turned my tear-dimmed eyes
Upwards, where countless stars and planets roll,
Filling with splendors bright the wintry skies;
And, like a revelation to my soul,
Came, from their shining orbs, a voice that said,
“So come, in glorious forms, with Christ, the dead!”

Nature's Help for the Soul

Nature a Living Teacher

Primitive Worship

God's worship to no temple is confined,
Amid the scenes of Nature it may be;
The song of praise borne on the summer wind,
Beneath the shelter of the forest tree.
So mused I, as I walked beside the lake,
Where Peters preached unto the listening throng;
The low-voiced waves that on its borders break,
With whispering pines all joined the sacred song.
So mused I, as amid the Camp I strayed,
Where Christians yearly meet for praise and prayer;
Beneath the hemlock's shade the people prayed,
And sweet their voices rose upon the air;
As when our fathers mid these forests trod,
And, without temples, worshipped here their God.

The Holy Land

Standley's Grove

October

All day, amidst the forests' splendor bright,
Spread o'er the landscape far as eye could see,
We journeyed on; and every vale and height
Transfigured in the glory seemed to be.
What colors of the earth, or e'en the sky,
Can paint the hues, which decked each hill and plain;
That, with their richness, tired the gazing eye?
What canvass can those wondrous tints retain?
Yet, as the seasons of the year return,
Again o'er all the land will they be cast;
Again each height and plain with glory burn,
And shall as long as Nature's self shall last;
Crowning with beauty e'en her latest day,
When all that we behold shall pass away!

The Soldier and the Statesman

The soldier to preserve his Country dies,
When'er in peril hangs its very life;
With ardent courage to the field he flies,
And mingles fearless in the fatal strife.
That Country safe; the ends, for which it lives,
Become the patriot statesman's highest goal;
To these his life and all he has he gives,
He lives not for a party, but the whole:
That all the rights of men may there enjoy,
That liberty of speech and thought may spread,
And every foe to freedom thus destroy;
Towards those great ends, with steadfast mind he's led,
For which the nation sprang at first to birth,
And gained a name and glory through the earth.

The Triumphs of Science, And of Faith

Beneath the ocean's ever-tossing breast,
Now ruffled only by the summer wind,
Sinks the vast cable to its final rest,
Which shall two continents together bind.
Triumph of Science over space and time,
That kindred nations long have kept apart!
When shall our Faith, with triumphs as sublime,
Bind realm to realm and kindred heart to heart?
Yet still, in faith, man's triumph we behold,
Subduing nature to his lofty will;
And wait the day, in prophecy foretold,
Which, tarrying long, Oh may our age fulfil!
When nations shall from strife forever cease,
And the whole earth shall dwell in sacred peace.

Christian Influence

And wouldst thou hasten, in another soul,
God's Kingdom on the earth of love and peace;
Learn first thyself, thy spirit to control,
From all that's false and evil in thee cease.
Nor think, that suddenly the reign shall come,
With pomp and glory for the outward eye;
Within, around thee, in thine earthly home,
The Kingdom of the Lord is drawing nigh!
As shines the light, with still increasing ray,
Till from the earth the brooding night has fled;
So, in man's spirit, comes the eternal day;
As gently as the dawn its beams have spread;
Till all within, and all around is bright,
And the whole world rejoices in its light.

The Reconciling Power

O Power! that waits not on man's feeble will,
Though granted still to faith, and hope, and prayer;
Thy gracious purposes in us fulfil,
And may we in thy favor ever share.
Vain is the people's strength, the ruler's power;
The statesman's wisdom and his arts are vain;
They hasten not on earth the blessed hour,
Which thou, in thine own keeping, doth retain.
The world, with its vain shows, doth souls divide,
Renew in all the simple heart of youth;
That friend from friend, by passion sundered wide,
May live again the life of love and truth.
Still mightier energies thou hast in store,
Than those with which the world has yet been blest;
Enduring peace, ne'er known on earth before,
The nations' Sabbath, the Millennial Rest.
O'er our wide land thy quickening influence send,
That, as one people, we may soon rejoice;
That party strife and pride may have an end,
Subdued and healed by thine all-powerful voice!

The Heralds of the Spring

The Bridge of Time

Our Dear Mother

Hymn

The Word Before All Things

The Whiteweed

The Teachings of the Spirit

Hymn

The Help of the Spirit

The Birthright Church

The birthright church; where shall we find its door,
For every new-born soul to enter in;
And, once within, never to leave it more,
To wander in the paths of doubt, and sin?
In churches of the past with crumbling walls,
To which the moss, and climbing ivy cling?
No; from the coming future still it calls,
And to the present doth its promise bring.
City of God, descending out of heaven,
Beheld by seer of old in vision bright!
O may it to our eyes, like his, be given
To see on earth thy mild, and peaceful light;
Shining, with steadfast beams, on childhood's way,
That it from out thy gates no more may stray.

Midas

Revelation

Addressing reason, yet above it still,
The True Religion speaks unto the soul;
It bids the conflicts of the mind be still,
And doth each motive of the will controul.
From low to higher still is nature's law,
Written on stony tablets of the earth;
And things we see upward the spirit draw
To things, and beings of a nobler birth.
Nor man alone aspires; but God descends,
And to our faculties doth lend his aid;
That we, amidst our doubts, may see the ends,
For which the world, and all therein were made;
See too his gracious love for sinful man,
More wondrous far than e'en Creation's plan.

How come the Dead?

The Hacker School House

Swift fly the years! Men call thee mean and old,
But I behold thee still as in thy prime;
The scroll of memory quickly is unrolled,
Wherein I read of childhood's early time;
Of that first morn, when finished, bright, and new,
We took our seats within thy well-built walls;
The master's voice I hear, his form I view,
As to his place, in order, each he calls.
Again I see, 'twas a beauteous sight!
Adorned with evergreen, and summer flowers;
The parents sharing in their sons' delight,
And gay the school room looked as garden bowers.
Thus ever stand, flower-wreathed and fair and new,
A picture bright for memory to view!

The Houstonia

To The Salem Gazette, On The Completion Of Its First Century

One hundred years with their events have fled,
Since first thy sheet was sent from door to door;
How many have thy pleasant pages read,
Now known amid life's busy scenes no more!
How vast the changes, since those years have flown;
Our Country's growth in commerce, wealth, and power;
The rule of haughty King long since o'erthrown,
And Freedom's triumph in the present hour!
And chronicled upon thy welcome page
The news from country round, and o'er the sea;
Domestic scenes endeared to youth and age,
Instructive tale, or gem of poesy.
For many a century may thy page record
Each noble deed, and fitly-spoken word.

Ocean's Treasures