The Poetical Works of Walter C. Smith :: :: University of Virginia Library

I had gone to a friend for Communion week,
And when it was over my soul was sad,
For I felt that my heart had been cold and bad
For lack of the grace I had failed to seek.

The folk did not see it, some even opined
That, with the live coal from the altar fired,
I had spoken at times like a man inspired,
But it was not the fire of a heavenly mind.

For now it came home to me, clear as light,
I had sought but my own things, not the Lord's;
Had tickled men's ears with enticing words
That could not have helped any soul in the fight.

Then a shadow of trouble came over my face,
And I doubted if ever I had a call
To the work I once thought that I loved more than all—
Proclaiming the riches of God's large grace.

My friend to cheer me then, said that he knew
My word that day had been greatly blessed,
For some had been quickened, and some had found rest,
And some had got comfort sure and true.

587

Still the cloud lay on me, and I saw
My heart in its faithlessness clearly laid bare,
Vain and self-seeking; and dull despair
Seemed to be clutching me with its claw.

Then said my friend—for he was a friend
In good and evil all through my life—
“John, what you want is a loving wife
To bring these thoughts to a whole-some end:

“And there is May Fleming might take you in hand;
She is good and true, she is bright and kind,
Of a cheerful temper, and pious mind,
And she's beautiful too as the Promised land.”

I knew of old he was fond of his jest;
But surely that was a flippant word
To a man who was wrestling for the Lord
With the powers of darkness in his breast.

Therefore I rose up, and silently
Went to my chamber and to my knees,
For I knew there was nothing like prayer to ease
The load that was lying so heavy on me.

But still that speech of his rang in my head;
And all through my pleadings and groans and cries
May's face rose, smiling, before mine eyes,
And I wandered in prayer, and dreamed instead.

I never had thought of life yet in that way,
But only of making my calling sure,
And getting my heart more clean and pure—
A task that seemed heavier every day.

And I never had thought of May Fleming that way,
Though I often had noted her upturned face
As she drank in humbly the word of grace,
Or folded her little white hands to pray.

Yet she had been to me but a lamb of the flock
Whom I strove to lead, in the narrow way,
To the pastures green that are found alway
By the river that flows from the stricken Rock.

And a faithless shepherd I needs must be
If I led her now to myself, not Him,
And kindled a human love, poor and dim,
For the love divine I had longed to see.

That made me surer than ever before
That I was not fit for the Master's work;
For my soul was tossed, like a helpless cork,
And drifted on to a barren shore.

Then I went in grief to my friend, and said,
“You have put a temptation in my way;
When I turn to my books, or try to pray,
May Fleming I cannot get out of my head.”

588

But he only laughed, and answered, “Well,
Let her come down from your head to your heart,
And make her home there, and never depart;
You will preach all the better when you can tell

“Of love that unifies man and wife,
Love that is faithful, meek, and true,
Singing a song that is ever new,
Love that is more to you even than life;

“For you'll have in your soul the master-key
To open treasures of Love divine,
And draw for your people the mystic wine
That will cheer them, when days of darkness be.”

I was not satisfied; yet I know
After that I was more at peace;
The strife in my soul did partly cease,
For the seed he had sown began to grow.

Not that I loved her yet as one
Should love the maid that shall be his bride;
But like my shadow she kept at my side
All through the hours, till the day was done.

I saw her face as I read my books,
Even in the darkness it was there
Looking ever so sweet and fair,
And I heard her voice in the winds and brooks.

What could it all mean? what should I do?
I could not study, I scarce could pray,
And I felt each Sabbath, my heart to-day
Was not in my work, and my people knew.

I must give up the task that I did so ill,
Must put out the light that would lead astray;
For I had no rest by night or day,
But went on dreaming about her still.

Once my thoughts had been all of Him
Who bore the cross for His chosen folk;
But now to the sorrowful truth I woke
That the faith I once lived by had all grown dim.

But one day I met her on the high road,
All by herself, and stepping free;
My text for next Sabbath was working in me,
And I felt it then as a heavy load.

I told her my trouble, and she threw out
Modestly only a hint, a thought,
But it suggested much, and brought
Clearness to me instead of doubt.

Surely that impulse God had given,
Which made me disburden my mind to one
So able to make the dry well run,
Free and full, with the grace of Heaven.

That sermon was something fresh and new,
And shone with a light I had never before,
I seemed to get to the very core,
And searched the mystery through and through.

Therefore I went to her mother, and told
What May had done for my work that day,
And the hope it begot in me, that they
Would not reckon my love to be over-bold.

589

It was not marriage-love yet, nor did
I get that till days and weeks were passed,
And only by prayer it came at last,
But it burned like a fire then, and would not be hid.

I had much ado to moderate it,
To keep it from taking the Master's place,
With the light of her love for the light of His face,
Though I tried to keep it in measure fit.

And of all God's gifts to me, truly the best,
Save only the Spirit of grace and truth,
Was the wife that he gave to my troubled youth,
And the home that she made me of peace and rest.