 | Songs in the twilight |  |
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[SACRED LYRICS]
HOW SHOULD I LIKE TO DIE?
How should I like to die? you ask; and where?
Well, I will try to give an answer true;
I have not made these questions much my care—
They have not troubled me; Friend, have they you?
Well, I will try to give an answer true;
I have not made these questions much my care—
They have not troubled me; Friend, have they you?
How would I die? Not in a far-off land,
'Mid faces strange, and voices all unknown;
No, let me feel the touch of friendly hand;
I fain would fall asleep anear mine own.
'Mid faces strange, and voices all unknown;
No, let me feel the touch of friendly hand;
I fain would fall asleep anear mine own.
For it were sweet to die 'mongst those loved best,
The true, the tender, and the near and dear;
To lay my dying head upon their breast,
And have their kindly voices in my ear.
The true, the tender, and the near and dear;
To lay my dying head upon their breast,
And have their kindly voices in my ear.
Pleasant to see, down-bending from above,
Affection's yearning gaze, and on it dwell;
To pass away 'mid looks and tones of love;
To catch the words of low and fond farewell.
Affection's yearning gaze, and on it dwell;
To pass away 'mid looks and tones of love;
To catch the words of low and fond farewell.
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Where would I die? I would the call might come
'Mid old familiar scenes and cherished ties;
In some dear chamber of the hallowed home,
There would I close on earth my dying eyes.
'Mid old familiar scenes and cherished ties;
In some dear chamber of the hallowed home,
There would I close on earth my dying eyes.
When earthly lights are burning dim and low,
And earthly faces fade from out my sight,
And earthly voices faintly come and go,
And round me gather shadows of the night—
And earthly faces fade from out my sight,
And earthly voices faintly come and go,
And round me gather shadows of the night—
I then would rest my last and parting gaze
On things and persons known to me of yore,
Who made the sweetness of the happy days
When all the hours some pleasure to me bore.
On things and persons known to me of yore,
Who made the sweetness of the happy days
When all the hours some pleasure to me bore.
So would I calmly pass from earth away,
When life is wearing to the welcome ev'n,
Falling asleep, to wake when dawns the day,
And find myself with Christ in home and heav'n.
When life is wearing to the welcome ev'n,
Falling asleep, to wake when dawns the day,
And find myself with Christ in home and heav'n.
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KING DAVID.
Up and down his lonely chamber
Paced the King with breaking heart,
Struggling with a hopeless sorrow,—
Like a stricken deer, apart;
Paced the King with breaking heart,
Struggling with a hopeless sorrow,—
Like a stricken deer, apart;
Wan his face, and very haggard—
Furrowed all his brow with care;
Great drops stood upon his forehead;
From his eyes stared grim despair.
Furrowed all his brow with care;
Great drops stood upon his forehead;
From his eyes stared grim despair.
Wrung he sore his hands in anguish,
Whilst the tears fell thick and fast,
And his manly frame was shaken
Like a reed before the blast.
Whilst the tears fell thick and fast,
And his manly frame was shaken
Like a reed before the blast.
Oft in faltering broken accents,
Which betrayed a soul undone,
Raising weeping eyes to heaven,
Wailed he out, “My son! my son!”
Which betrayed a soul undone,
Raising weeping eyes to heaven,
Wailed he out, “My son! my son!”
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“Absalom, my own, my dear one,
Dearer than all sons to me;
Absalom, my loved and lost one,
Would that I had died for thee!”
Dearer than all sons to me;
Absalom, my loved and lost one,
Would that I had died for thee!”
Thus he sobbed forth his deep sorrow,
Moaning ever, moaning low;
All the spirit torn and tortured
With the greatness of his woe.
Moaning ever, moaning low;
All the spirit torn and tortured
With the greatness of his woe.
Where were now the fascination,
Glories of the hair and face,
All the grace and all the glamour,
Pride of honour, pomp of place?
Glories of the hair and face,
All the grace and all the glamour,
Pride of honour, pomp of place?
Dimmed the splendour and the beauty,
Sullied, faded, soiled, brought low;
On his lips the seal of silence,
Death's cold hand upon his brow.
Sullied, faded, soiled, brought low;
On his lips the seal of silence,
Death's cold hand upon his brow.
In that grief so wild and piteous,
Did the King recall his shame?
Did no thought of foul transgression
Scorch and scathe his soul like flame?
Did the King recall his shame?
Did no thought of foul transgression
Scorch and scathe his soul like flame?
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Passed before his mind the murder,
Dead Uriah's bloody grave;
How, by craft and cruel counsel,
He was slain the true and brave?
Dead Uriah's bloody grave;
How, by craft and cruel counsel,
He was slain the true and brave?
Thought he how his guilty passion
Struck at honour, name, and fame;
Wrought the husband's dark undoing,
And Bath-Shua's utter shame?
Struck at honour, name, and fame;
Wrought the husband's dark undoing,
And Bath-Shua's utter shame?
Through his weeping and his mourning
Thrilled no voice upon his ear,
Like the trump of judgment sounding,
Shaking all his soul with fear?
Thrilled no voice upon his ear,
Like the trump of judgment sounding,
Shaking all his soul with fear?
Ah, what mem'ries wrung his spirit,
Desolate, bereft, undone,
Forced that cry of desolation—
“Absalom, my son! my son!”
Desolate, bereft, undone,
Forced that cry of desolation—
“Absalom, my son! my son!”
For again the Prophet's judgment,
Terrible, intrepid, calm,
Smote with fear the quailing monarch,
Robber of the poor man's lamb.
Terrible, intrepid, calm,
Smote with fear the quailing monarch,
Robber of the poor man's lamb.
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Now he sees the flashing aspect,
Hears once more the damning ban,
As the Seer brands the sinner,
“Thou, O David, art the man!”
Hears once more the damning ban,
As the Seer brands the sinner,
“Thou, O David, art the man!”
But the climax of his anguish,
Torture added to his pain,
Was the deed of dark rebellion
In which Absalom was slain.
Torture added to his pain,
Was the deed of dark rebellion
In which Absalom was slain.
Absalom, the loved and cherished,
Nearest, dearest to his heart,
Traitor to his crown and kingdom!
—This it was that barbed the dart.
Nearest, dearest to his heart,
Traitor to his crown and kingdom!
—This it was that barbed the dart.
Was there hope for one so guilty,
Cut off reckless in his sin?
Would for him God's heaven open?
Could such sinner enter in?
Cut off reckless in his sin?
Would for him God's heaven open?
Could such sinner enter in?
This the crown of all his sorrow;
Ah, this left him woe-begone,
Wrung that cry of sore bereavement,
“Absalom, my son! my son!”
Ah, this left him woe-begone,
Wrung that cry of sore bereavement,
“Absalom, my son! my son!”
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In this world where woe and sadness
Are but as a common thing,
Grief for life gone out in darkness,
Has than all a fiercer sting.
Are but as a common thing,
Grief for life gone out in darkness,
Has than all a fiercer sting.
Ah, no pang is half so poignant,
Sorrow greater there is none,
Than beside a hopeless death-bed,
To wail out, “My son! my son!”
Sorrow greater there is none,
Than beside a hopeless death-bed,
To wail out, “My son! my son!”
Then the racked and tortured spirit,
Musing on the dark to be,
Sobs aloud in piteous angish,
“Would God I had died for thee!”
Musing on the dark to be,
Sobs aloud in piteous angish,
“Would God I had died for thee!”
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COMPLETED JOY.
Of all the words that fill the ear with gladness,
And like rich treasure in the heart we hide,
Of all the promises that banish sadness,
What passes this, “I shall be satisfied”?
And like rich treasure in the heart we hide,
Of all the promises that banish sadness,
What passes this, “I shall be satisfied”?
What satisfied? The soul's immortal longing;
The thirsting for the good, the true, the right;
The vast desires that come upon us thronging;
The hungering for knowledge and for light?
The thirsting for the good, the true, the right;
The vast desires that come upon us thronging;
The hungering for knowledge and for light?
Shall there no wish be ever on us growing,
That ours were service pure as saints' above?
No wish: since we are filled to overflowing
With all the fulness of the Godhead's love.
That ours were service pure as saints' above?
No wish: since we are filled to overflowing
With all the fulness of the Godhead's love.
O blessed hope; hope that no more for ever
Desires unsatisfied shall vex the soul;
That yearnings unfulfilled shall trouble never
The peace of those that reach the heavenly goal.
Desires unsatisfied shall vex the soul;
That yearnings unfulfilled shall trouble never
The peace of those that reach the heavenly goal.
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I cannot tell the glories of that heaven
Where God in Christ, and Christ in God, is all;
Where burn the lamps, the mystic wondrous Seven,
And saints in lowly adoration fall.
Where God in Christ, and Christ in God, is all;
Where burn the lamps, the mystic wondrous Seven,
And saints in lowly adoration fall.
Enough for hearts weary of sin and sorrow,
And still athirst when earthly streams are tried,
Enough that soon shall dawn that glorious morrow
When we, awaking, shall be satisfied.
And still athirst when earthly streams are tried,
Enough that soon shall dawn that glorious morrow
When we, awaking, shall be satisfied.
No longer then bewildered by false seemings,
The substance shall be ours, the shadow gone;
Beguiled no longer by unstable dreamings,
We from the dark shall pass into the sun.
The substance shall be ours, the shadow gone;
Beguiled no longer by unstable dreamings,
We from the dark shall pass into the sun.
Here, then, I rest at peace, all doubtings over;
“Here,” can I say, “I will with joy abide;”
No bliss beyond this wish I to discover;
Enough for me, “I shall be satisfied.”
“Here,” can I say, “I will with joy abide;”
No bliss beyond this wish I to discover;
Enough for me, “I shall be satisfied.”
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THE SORROWFUL SEA.
There is a sorrow on the sounding sea,
A trouble ever heaving in its breast,
A wail as from a soul in agony,
An undertone of wild and sad unrest.
A trouble ever heaving in its breast,
A wail as from a soul in agony,
An undertone of wild and sad unrest.
The waves break mournfully upon the shore,
Or surge in fitful fury 'gainst the rock;
Anon retreat with melancholy roar,
Tortured and torn, and writhing from the shock.
Or surge in fitful fury 'gainst the rock;
Anon retreat with melancholy roar,
Tortured and torn, and writhing from the shock.
What hear we in that sorrowful sea-moan?
A dirge-like voice, a sound of hoarse farewells,
Despair that lurks in ev'ry hollow tone,
Sadder than requiem rung from funeral bells.
A dirge-like voice, a sound of hoarse farewells,
Despair that lurks in ev'ry hollow tone,
Sadder than requiem rung from funeral bells.
I catch the cry of storm-tossed men from far,
A shriek of wrecked ones thrilling 'cross the deep
Rising to God upward from star to star,
As cruel waters o'er the drowning sweep.
A shriek of wrecked ones thrilling 'cross the deep
Rising to God upward from star to star,
As cruel waters o'er the drowning sweep.
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Courage and youth no pity have from thee,
Nor hope a spell to tame thy heartless might;
Prayer cannot charm thee, oh thou cruel sea!
Nor love o'ercome thee in the dreadful fight.
Nor hope a spell to tame thy heartless might;
Prayer cannot charm thee, oh thou cruel sea!
Nor love o'ercome thee in the dreadful fight.
When will thy waves in tranquil stillness lie?
The sorrow in thy heart for ever cease?
And the loud clash of tempests pass and die
Into the harmony of endless peace?
The sorrow in thy heart for ever cease?
And the loud clash of tempests pass and die
Into the harmony of endless peace?
The earth lies quiet like a child asleep:
The deep heart of the heaven is calm and still,
Must thou alone a restless vigil keep,
And with thy sobbing all the silence fill?
The deep heart of the heaven is calm and still,
Must thou alone a restless vigil keep,
And with thy sobbing all the silence fill?
The wail of sorrow rising from thy breast
Tells of a hidden and a nameless pain;
Will nothing soothe that anguish into rest,
So that it never, never wake again?
Tells of a hidden and a nameless pain;
Will nothing soothe that anguish into rest,
So that it never, never wake again?
O God, bring Thou the promised happy time
Which is to bless the ages yet to be;
Ring in with bells of heav'n's own sweetest chime
The golden year when “shall be no more sea.”
Which is to bless the ages yet to be;
Ring in with bells of heav'n's own sweetest chime
The golden year when “shall be no more sea.”
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THE CHALLENGE TO THE SWORD.
“O thou sword of the Lord, how long will it be ere thou be quiet? Put up thyself into thy scabbard; rest, and be still.”
—Jer. xlvii. 6.
O sword of the Lord, wilt thou never be still?
How long wilt thou flash to destroy and to kill?
Return to the scabbard: rest, rest in the sheath!
Wilt thou never have done with the dark work of death?
How long wilt thou flash to destroy and to kill?
Return to the scabbard: rest, rest in the sheath!
Wilt thou never have done with the dark work of death?
O sword of the Lord, must the shriek rend the air,
The cry of the widow and child in despair?
Must the vineyard be wasted, the field trampled down,
And the festering dead choke the streets of the town?
The cry of the widow and child in despair?
Must the vineyard be wasted, the field trampled down,
And the festering dead choke the streets of the town?
Wilt thou never be sated with blood of the slain,
The moans of their anguish, their wounds, and their pain?
Are the harvests this green earth is ever to yield
Red harvests reaped down in the fierce battlefield?
The moans of their anguish, their wounds, and their pain?
Are the harvests this green earth is ever to yield
Red harvests reaped down in the fierce battlefield?
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Sick at heart with thy triumphs, we ask thee how long
Wilt thou mow down the young, and the brave, and the strong?
Are War's carnage and carnival never to cease?
Shall the world never bask in the sunshine of peace?
Wilt thou mow down the young, and the brave, and the strong?
Are War's carnage and carnival never to cease?
Shall the world never bask in the sunshine of peace?
O sword of the Lord, sharp, furbished, and keen,
Thou art drunk with the blood of the slaughtered, I ween;
End, end, and for ever, the strife and the pain,
And the battle that hurtles aloud on the plain.
Thou art drunk with the blood of the slaughtered, I ween;
End, end, and for ever, the strife and the pain,
And the battle that hurtles aloud on the plain.
Rest, rest in thy scabbard; rust, rust in thy sheath;
Cease at last to lay low the thick swathes of death;
Sleep, if but for a season; be quiet, be still;
Of anguish and blood thou hast more than thy fill.
Cease at last to lay low the thick swathes of death;
Sleep, if but for a season; be quiet, be still;
Of anguish and blood thou hast more than thy fill.
Let it break, the glad day by prophets foretold,
When earth shall rejoice in the bright age of gold;
When the din of the conflict for ever is o'er,
And nation shall rise against nation no more!
When earth shall rejoice in the bright age of gold;
When the din of the conflict for ever is o'er,
And nation shall rise against nation no more!
Then the sword to a share shall be beaten and turned,
The spear to a pruning-hook, the battle-axe burned;
Then the use of the drum and the trumpet shall cease,
Or sound but to herald the long reign of peace.
The spear to a pruning-hook, the battle-axe burned;
Then the use of the drum and the trumpet shall cease,
Or sound but to herald the long reign of peace.
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THE CHALLENGE ANSWERED.
“How can it be quiet, seeing the Lord hath given it a charge against Ashkelon, and against the sea-shore? there hath He appointed it.”
—Jer. xlvii. 7.
How
can it be quiet,” this sword of the Lord?
God has spoken in judgment and given the word;
'Tis He who unsheathes it, 'tis He sends it forth,
Grim and ghastly, to deal with the nations of earth.
God has spoken in judgment and given the word;
'Tis He who unsheathes it, 'tis He sends it forth,
Grim and ghastly, to deal with the nations of earth.
“How can it be quiet?” The charge has been given
To take its keen blade and “bathe it in heaven;”
For the crimes that are daily relentlessly done,
Call it forth from the scabbard to flash in the sun.
To take its keen blade and “bathe it in heaven;”
For the crimes that are daily relentlessly done,
Call it forth from the scabbard to flash in the sun.
God has sent it in doom 'gainst the sea-shore of pride,
'Gainst Ashkelon's sins in their full-breasted tide;
So it holds ever on in its terrible path,
Bearing with it the sign of the Holy One's wrath.
'Gainst Ashkelon's sins in their full-breasted tide;
So it holds ever on in its terrible path,
Bearing with it the sign of the Holy One's wrath.
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“Quiet!” What, when the wailings of grief and despair,
The sighings of sorrow are filling the air;
When such wrongs and such horrors through Christendom sweep,
As cause devils to laugh, and good angels to weep!
The sighings of sorrow are filling the air;
When such wrongs and such horrors through Christendom sweep,
As cause devils to laugh, and good angels to weep!
“Quiet!” What, when dark hotbeds of vice curse each town,
When the rich men are boasting, the poor trodden down,
When sedition and murder are stalking abroad,
And men are blaspheming the name of their God!
When the rich men are boasting, the poor trodden down,
When sedition and murder are stalking abroad,
And men are blaspheming the name of their God!
“Quiet!” What, when the cries of disease and of pain,
Rise from hearts that are breaking, again and again,
When folly and passion, ambition and strife,
Are killing all hope in full many a life!
Rise from hearts that are breaking, again and again,
When folly and passion, ambition and strife,
Are killing all hope in full many a life!
The stern sword of the Lord on its mission must go,
And the record of earth be one burden of woe,
War's tocsin must sound, ay, and thousands be slain,
And crimsoned with blood be the fair harvest plain.
And the record of earth be one burden of woe,
War's tocsin must sound, ay, and thousands be slain,
And crimsoned with blood be the fair harvest plain.
It will not be quiet, nor rest evermore,
Till the Light shall arise and the darkness be o'er;
Till tyranny ceases, cruel bigotry, lust,
And God's enemies lie at His feet in the dust.
Till the Light shall arise and the darkness be o'er;
Till tyranny ceases, cruel bigotry, lust,
And God's enemies lie at His feet in the dust.
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When the sword has fulfilled the stern charge of the Lord,
And accomplished the righteous behests of His word,
When have passed from the world the dark shadows of ill,
'Twill return to the scabbard, 'twill rest and be still.
And accomplished the righteous behests of His word,
When have passed from the world the dark shadows of ill,
'Twill return to the scabbard, 'twill rest and be still.
Patience yet for a while, and then all will be well,
Sin and death shall be bound in their own native hell;
The Saviour shall claim the whole world for His own,
And on earth shall establish His kingdom and throne.
Sin and death shall be bound in their own native hell;
The Saviour shall claim the whole world for His own,
And on earth shall establish His kingdom and throne.
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EVER WITH GOD.
“When I awake, I am still with Thee.”
—Psalm cxxxix. 18.
—Psalm cxxxix. 18.
When sinks the sun far in the glimmering west,
And shadows lengthen over field and fell,
I lay me down in peace and take my rest,
For Thou in safety, Lord, dost make me dwell.
And shadows lengthen over field and fell,
I lay me down in peace and take my rest,
For Thou in safety, Lord, dost make me dwell.
Thou drawest round the curtains of the night,
And sendest sleep to close my heavy eyes,
Keeping true watch, until the morning light
Reddens the east and steals along the skies.
And sendest sleep to close my heavy eyes,
Keeping true watch, until the morning light
Reddens the east and steals along the skies.
Meanwhile, within the Everlasting Arms,
Which underneath me lovingly are spread,
I rest secure with Thee from all that harms;
Thy breast a pillow for my weary head.
Which underneath me lovingly are spread,
I rest secure with Thee from all that harms;
Thy breast a pillow for my weary head.
Sweet is the sleep o'ershadowed by Thy love,
Sweeter the dreams all brightened by Thy grace;
All heaven appears descending from above,
When I in visions see Thy glorious face.
Sweeter the dreams all brightened by Thy grace;
All heaven appears descending from above,
When I in visions see Thy glorious face.
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And when the dayspring ripples o'er the lawn,
When pipes the early bird in bush and tree,
And dewdrops turn to diamonds in the dawn,
When I awake, Lord, I am still with Thee.
When pipes the early bird in bush and tree,
And dewdrops turn to diamonds in the dawn,
When I awake, Lord, I am still with Thee.
“With Thee!” this is my first and earliest thought;
“With Thee!” this in my heart finds latest place;
“With Thee!” the consciousness with joy is fraught;
I sleep to wake within Thy sweet embrace.
“With Thee!” this in my heart finds latest place;
“With Thee!” the consciousness with joy is fraught;
I sleep to wake within Thy sweet embrace.
So shall it be in that, the last long sleep,
When I am laid within my narrow bed,
Thou wilt a tender watch upon me keep,
For precious in Thy sight are all Thy dead.
When I am laid within my narrow bed,
Thou wilt a tender watch upon me keep,
For precious in Thy sight are all Thy dead.
And when the Easter morning breaks the gloom,
And death and darkness shall for ever flee,
Triumphant rising from the yawning tomb
I shall awake, to know “I'm still with Thee.”
And death and darkness shall for ever flee,
Triumphant rising from the yawning tomb
I shall awake, to know “I'm still with Thee.”
| Songs in the twilight | |