 | The Burden of the Bell and Other Lyrics |  |
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‘BE A CHEERFUL POET!’
Be a cheerful Poet!
That is well—the wind saith, singing by;—
That is well, the blue and bending sky
Echoes softly;—that is well—each ray
Of the cheerful light, no less would say,
Were it vocal;—mark, amongst the snows
Winter's little lonely flower unclose,
Pure and pale as they, but telling still,
Spite of bitter blast and icy chill,
Of a bright time coming; telling too
Of a blessing, hidden from the view
Ev'n in rudest frost, and wildest weather;—
Such thy task be! Faith and Hope together,
Take for Muses!—to their bidding bowed,
Ever see the sun behind the cloud;
Ever see, though windy tempests blow,
Flowers upspringing underneath the snow;
Comfort, see, in trouble—love, in wrath—
Balm of healing in the thorniest path—
God in all,—that so thy songs may be
Ministers of God in their degree,
And through storm and calm their task pursue
Loyally, as flowers and sunbeams do.
That is well—the wind saith, singing by;—
That is well, the blue and bending sky
Echoes softly;—that is well—each ray
Of the cheerful light, no less would say,
Were it vocal;—mark, amongst the snows
Winter's little lonely flower unclose,
Pure and pale as they, but telling still,
Spite of bitter blast and icy chill,
Of a bright time coming; telling too
Of a blessing, hidden from the view
Ev'n in rudest frost, and wildest weather;—
Such thy task be! Faith and Hope together,
Take for Muses!—to their bidding bowed,
Ever see the sun behind the cloud;
Ever see, though windy tempests blow,
Flowers upspringing underneath the snow;
Comfort, see, in trouble—love, in wrath—
Balm of healing in the thorniest path—
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Ministers of God in their degree,
And through storm and calm their task pursue
Loyally, as flowers and sunbeams do.
Ask thy ransomed soul, inclining low
At Christ's feet, if life be only woe;
If all poet harmonies should be
Wrung from one sole chord of misery;
If best service may be offered up
By out-pouring tears from life's full cup—
Pouring tears and wafting sighs alone,
In drear sameness, heavenward to God's throne.
Ask, and straight thine eager soul shall risc,
From Christ's feet, with upward glancing eyes
Full of joy and blessing, and shall cry—
“Nay! by His dear blood, shed lovingly
For our sin—by His full victory
Over death and loss, this life should be
Lifted out of gloom, and glorified
By that crowning glory. Be thy lays
Strong to follow then, where Faith doth guide—
Strong to soar above life's narrow ways,
Through the mist of natural pain and care,
Dark, but transient, to that calmer air
O'er the thunder, where, in mystic beaming,
Glows the Godlight from the cross outstreaming.
At Christ's feet, if life be only woe;
If all poet harmonies should be
Wrung from one sole chord of misery;
If best service may be offered up
By out-pouring tears from life's full cup—
Pouring tears and wafting sighs alone,
In drear sameness, heavenward to God's throne.
Ask, and straight thine eager soul shall risc,
From Christ's feet, with upward glancing eyes
Full of joy and blessing, and shall cry—
“Nay! by His dear blood, shed lovingly
For our sin—by His full victory
Over death and loss, this life should be
Lifted out of gloom, and glorified
By that crowning glory. Be thy lays
Strong to follow then, where Faith doth guide—
Strong to soar above life's narrow ways,
Through the mist of natural pain and care,
Dark, but transient, to that calmer air
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Glows the Godlight from the cross outstreaming.
Yet avoid not sorrow—tenderly
Touch that string, for oh! thy lyre must be
Tuned to suit a vexed humanity;
With the weeping, weep—the sighing, sigh;
Only, through each sadness, still descry
Light out-breaking, promise of release,
In the cloud, God's bow, proclaiming peace.
He whose strain with grief alone is rife,
Endless lamentation, tears and strife,
Adds but discord to the hymn of life!”
Touch that string, for oh! thy lyre must be
Tuned to suit a vexed humanity;
With the weeping, weep—the sighing, sigh;
Only, through each sadness, still descry
Light out-breaking, promise of release,
In the cloud, God's bow, proclaiming peace.
He whose strain with grief alone is rife,
Endless lamentation, tears and strife,
Adds but discord to the hymn of life!”
Soul, amen! true teacher!—Singer, thou
To that inner verdict meekly bow—
Be a cheerful Poet!
To that inner verdict meekly bow—
Be a cheerful Poet!
| The Burden of the Bell and Other Lyrics | |