Poems by Cecil Frances Alexander Edited, with a preface, by William Alexander |
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 | Poems by Cecil Frances Alexander |  |
I. Part I.
THE CAVE OF MACHPELAH.
“There they buried Abraham, and Sarah his wife, there they
buried Isaac and Rebekah his wife, and there I buried Leah.”
—Gen. xlix. 31.
Calm is it in the dim cathedral cloister,
Where lie the dead all couched in marble rare,
Where the shades thicken, and the breath hangs moister
Than in the sunlit air:
Where lie the dead all couched in marble rare,
Where the shades thicken, and the breath hangs moister
Than in the sunlit air:
Where the chance ray that makes the carved stone whiter,
Tints with a crimson, or a violet light
Some pale old Bishop with his staff and mitre,
Some stiff crusading knight!
Tints with a crimson, or a violet light
Some pale old Bishop with his staff and mitre,
Some stiff crusading knight!
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Sweet is it where the little graves fling shadows
In the green churchyard, on the shaven grass,
And a faint cowslip fragrance from the meadows
O'er the low wall doth pass!
In the green churchyard, on the shaven grass,
And a faint cowslip fragrance from the meadows
O'er the low wall doth pass!
More sweet—more calm in that fair valley's bosom
The burial place in Ephron's pasture ground,
Where the oil-olive shed her snowy blossom,
And the red grape was found,
The burial place in Ephron's pasture ground,
Where the oil-olive shed her snowy blossom,
And the red grape was found,
When the great pastoral prince with love undying
Rose up in anguish from the face of death,
And weighed the silver shekels for its buying
Before the sons of Heth.
Rose up in anguish from the face of death,
And weighed the silver shekels for its buying
Before the sons of Heth.
Here, when the measure of his days was numbered
—Days few, and evil in this vale of tears!—
At Sarah's side the faithful Patriarch slumbered,
An old man full of years:
—Days few, and evil in this vale of tears!—
At Sarah's side the faithful Patriarch slumbered,
An old man full of years:
Here, holy Isaac, meek of heart and gentle,
And the fair maid who came to him from far,
And the sad sire who knew all throes parental,
And meek-eyed Leah, are;
And the fair maid who came to him from far,
And the sad sire who knew all throes parental,
And meek-eyed Leah, are;
She rests not here, the beautiful of feature,
For whom her Jacob wrought his years twice o'er,
And deemed them but as one, for that fair creature,
So dear the love he bore!
For whom her Jacob wrought his years twice o'er,
And deemed them but as one, for that fair creature,
So dear the love he bore!
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Nor Israel's son beloved,
who brought him sleeping
With a long pomp of woe to Canaan's shade,
Till all the people wondered at the weeping
By the Egyptians made.
With a long pomp of woe to Canaan's shade,
Till all the people wondered at the weeping
By the Egyptians made.
Like roses from the same tree gathered yearly,
And flung together in one vase to keep,—
Some but not all who loved so well, and dearly,
Lie here in quiet sleep.
And flung together in one vase to keep,—
Some but not all who loved so well, and dearly,
Lie here in quiet sleep.
What though the Moslem mosque be in the valley,
Though faithless hands have sealed the sacred cave,
And the red Prophet's children shout “El Allah,”
Over the Hebrew's grave:
Though faithless hands have sealed the sacred cave,
And the red Prophet's children shout “El Allah,”
Over the Hebrew's grave:
Yet a day cometh when those white walls shaking
Shall give again to light the living dead,
And Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, re-awaking
Spring from their rocky bed.
Shall give again to light the living dead,
And Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, re-awaking
Spring from their rocky bed.
RACHEL.
“And Rachel died, and was buried in the way to Ephrath.”
—Gen. xxxv. 19.
The graveyard by the river lies,
In the heart of the old hills;
Over the graves the sycamore
A honey breath distils,
And from its top the mountain thrush
Breaks out in sudden thrills.
In the heart of the old hills;
Over the graves the sycamore
A honey breath distils,
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Breaks out in sudden thrills.
About the graves the river runs
With a low monotonous fall,
Like murmur in a mourner's heart
Who sheds no tear at all,
But ever maketh to herself
A moan continual.
With a low monotonous fall,
Like murmur in a mourner's heart
Who sheds no tear at all,
But ever maketh to herself
A moan continual.
It was at crimson sunset time
I sat in that quiet place,
And watched the shadows wrap the hill
From purple height, to base,
Like sorrow darkening silently
A happy human face.
I sat in that quiet place,
And watched the shadows wrap the hill
From purple height, to base,
Like sorrow darkening silently
A happy human face.
The yellow furze in lines of light
Stood out on its bosom cold,
As if the gilded sunset clouds
When down the west they rolled
Had dropped upon the mountain side
A portion of their gold.
Stood out on its bosom cold,
As if the gilded sunset clouds
When down the west they rolled
Had dropped upon the mountain side
A portion of their gold.
I sat beside a mother's grave
Who had travailed sore, and died—
A sun that set when into Heaven
One little star did glide—
A rose amid its opening buds
Cut off in summer's pride.
Who had travailed sore, and died—
A sun that set when into Heaven
One little star did glide—
A rose amid its opening buds
Cut off in summer's pride.
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I thought of her whom Jacob toiled
In the olden time to win,
Who passed away before her arm
Had clasped her Benjamin,
Where Bethel's haunted plains are passed
And Ephrath's fields begin.
In the olden time to win,
Who passed away before her arm
Had clasped her Benjamin,
Where Bethel's haunted plains are passed
And Ephrath's fields begin.
She died, when joy's full measure throbbed
Like a strong pulse in her breast—
When once again of baby lips
Her bosom should be pressed,
And yet another living son
Sink on her heart to rest.
Like a strong pulse in her breast—
When once again of baby lips
Her bosom should be pressed,
And yet another living son
Sink on her heart to rest.
O, lesson meet for us to learn,
With our dreams of earthly joy—
Who build our golden hopes so high,
And still without alloy,
And then they fade,—or we are gone
Like Rachel from her boy!
With our dreams of earthly joy—
Who build our golden hopes so high,
And still without alloy,
And then they fade,—or we are gone
Like Rachel from her boy!
There is one hope that faileth not,
For it triumphs o'er the grave;
The Patriarch saw it dimly bright
Beyond his burial cave,
I read it on that Christian tomb—
The life that Jesus gave!
For it triumphs o'er the grave;
The Patriarch saw it dimly bright
Beyond his burial cave,
I read it on that Christian tomb—
The life that Jesus gave!
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JACOB AND PHARAOH.
“Few and evil have the days of the years of my life been.”—
Gen. xlvii. 9.
How rarely boyhood loves to paint
In glowing tints his future bright,
A picture where no line is faint—
Whose very clouds are touched with light.
In glowing tints his future bright,
A picture where no line is faint—
Whose very clouds are touched with light.
And girlhood hails a world unknown
And reads it in her own glad dreams,
As lilies see themselves alone
Reflected in their azure streams.
And reads it in her own glad dreams,
As lilies see themselves alone
Reflected in their azure streams.
But rosy clouds that morning brings,
Ere noon may deepen into thunder—
And life's dark stream has sterner things
Than silver lilies growing under.
Ere noon may deepen into thunder—
And life's dark stream has sterner things
Than silver lilies growing under.
So had he found, the Patriarch old,
Who, reckoning o'er by Pharaoh's chair
His hundred years and thirty, told
How evil, and how few they were.
Who, reckoning o'er by Pharaoh's chair
His hundred years and thirty, told
How evil, and how few they were.
One lingering look he backward cast—
Those long dim years lay steeped in gloom,
And through the mist that wrapped the past
He saw but shapes of sorrow loom.
Those long dim years lay steeped in gloom,
And through the mist that wrapped the past
He saw but shapes of sorrow loom.
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The parting of his youth was there,
The cheated love in Leah's bower,
The lingering toil, the long despair
For Joseph lost in evil hour.
The cheated love in Leah's bower,
The lingering toil, the long despair
For Joseph lost in evil hour.
And such a reckoning thine must be,
When time shall disenchant thine eyes,
Fond youth! and life's reality
Break on thee with a sad surprise.
When time shall disenchant thine eyes,
Fond youth! and life's reality
Break on thee with a sad surprise.
But not for this bright hope forego
Or scant one glowing dream of pleasure,
Though life shall never find below
A cup to hold thy brimming measure.
Or scant one glowing dream of pleasure,
Though life shall never find below
A cup to hold thy brimming measure.
For thoughts of great and glorious things
That move thy soul with inward force,
Are but thy spirit's secret springs,
Uprising to their awful source—
That move thy soul with inward force,
Are but thy spirit's secret springs,
Uprising to their awful source—
The touches of a hand divine
Still lingering on thy soiléd face—
Throbs in that deathless heart of thine
That pants for its immortal place.
Still lingering on thy soiléd face—
Throbs in that deathless heart of thine
That pants for its immortal place.
Dream on! but pitch thine hopes still higher,
Like eagles soaring to the sun;
The wildest stretch of man's desire
Can ne'er surpass what Christ has won.
Like eagles soaring to the sun;
The wildest stretch of man's desire
Can ne'er surpass what Christ has won.
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There, where for Him down sunless skies
Eternal Hallelujahs stream—
The truth of thine ideal lies,
The substance of thy youthful dream.
Eternal Hallelujahs stream—
The truth of thine ideal lies,
The substance of thy youthful dream.
MOSES' CHOICE.
“Choosing rather to suffer affliction with the people of God,
than to enjoy the pleasures of sin for a season.”—Heb. xi. 25.
He dwelt in glory, where the light
Fell soft by day in Pharaoh's halls;
And painted lamps the livelong night
Flung ghostly shadows on the walls.
Fell soft by day in Pharaoh's halls;
And painted lamps the livelong night
Flung ghostly shadows on the walls.
All sounds were there of love and sport,
Sweet song of lute, wild laughter ringing,
The splash of fountains in the court,
And birds in stately gardens singing.
Sweet song of lute, wild laughter ringing,
The splash of fountains in the court,
And birds in stately gardens singing.
And cups, that on their carven ledge
Bore shapes that seemed to hail with joy
The wine that bubbled to their edge,
Were proffered to the Hebrew boy.
Bore shapes that seemed to hail with joy
The wine that bubbled to their edge,
Were proffered to the Hebrew boy.
And wrinkled seers that hour by hour
Traced starry dreams on silent stone—
And wiser yet, to whom each power
Of Nature's secret things was known,—
Traced starry dreams on silent stone—
And wiser yet, to whom each power
Of Nature's secret things was known,—
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Came round him with their wisdom weird,
And bade his sharpened reason soar
Through shadowy realms, half known, half feared.
And taught him all Egyptian lore.
And bade his sharpened reason soar
Through shadowy realms, half known, half feared.
And taught him all Egyptian lore.
But more he loved the scanty fare,
The shepherd's toil by vale and hill,
The wandering in the desert bare
With one bright vision leading still.
The shepherd's toil by vale and hill,
The wandering in the desert bare
With one bright vision leading still.
And other music set on fire
His youthful soul, with cadence strong—
Such strains as rush'd from Miriam's lyre,
Winged with prophetic words of song.
His youthful soul, with cadence strong—
Such strains as rush'd from Miriam's lyre,
Winged with prophetic words of song.
Rather he chose to suffer woe
With God's own people in the wild,
Than wrapped around with regal show
To bear the name of Pharaoh's child.
With God's own people in the wild,
Than wrapped around with regal show
To bear the name of Pharaoh's child.
O, blessed choice! and such be ours—
For better far some quiet place,
Where simple men in lowly bowers
Love God's great Name and seek His face,
For better far some quiet place,
Where simple men in lowly bowers
Love God's great Name and seek His face,
Than joys mid hearts to folly given,
Where pleasure drives the hours away,
Without a thought of God or Heaven—
Or dream that lasts beyond to-day;
Where pleasure drives the hours away,
Without a thought of God or Heaven—
Or dream that lasts beyond to-day;
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Where world-wise men with scornful sneer,
Tell of high deed, and holy word,
O rather like that meek old seer,
Our choice be those who love the Lord.
Tell of high deed, and holy word,
O rather like that meek old seer,
Our choice be those who love the Lord.
THE MANNA IN THE WILDERNESS.
“And when the dew that lay was gone up, behold upon the
face of the wilderness there lay a small round thing, as small as
the hoar frost upon the ground.”—Exod. xvi. 14.
The long low streaks of crimson lay
Fringing the level sands,
As night was blushing into day
O'er Israel's pilgrim bands.
Fringing the level sands,
As night was blushing into day
O'er Israel's pilgrim bands.
Hot went the fiery sun below—
Red-hot he comes again,
Then what is this like beaded snow
That whitens all the plain?
Red-hot he comes again,
Then what is this like beaded snow
That whitens all the plain?
Never from distant Sinai's height
The frost-wind wandering here
Hath bound in silver fetters bright
The desert parched and drear.
The frost-wind wandering here
Hath bound in silver fetters bright
The desert parched and drear.
Never as gentle as a kiss
The snow flakes falling round
Dropped on its breast—then what is this,
Like hoar frost on the ground?
The snow flakes falling round
Dropped on its breast—then what is this,
Like hoar frost on the ground?
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Haste, Israel! press the measure down,
Ere yonder sun have power,
To melt the desert's crystal crown—
This is God's manna-shower.
Ere yonder sun have power,
To melt the desert's crystal crown—
This is God's manna-shower.
We, to that unreaped harvest drawn,
Come watch their labours gay,
Who gather, 'neath the fragrant dawn,
Their sweet food day by day.
Come watch their labours gay,
Who gather, 'neath the fragrant dawn,
Their sweet food day by day.
Our careless lips say day and night,
“Give us our daily bread,”
How little dream we of the might
That erst the manna shed.
“Give us our daily bread,”
How little dream we of the might
That erst the manna shed.
The times of old bright pictures bring,
We give them little heed—
That clamouring host, that small white thing
Like coriander seed,
We give them little heed—
That clamouring host, that small white thing
Like coriander seed,
Found, though they never saw it fall,
When the dew left the land—
Are precious types to us, to all,
Of God's sustaining hand;—
When the dew left the land—
Are precious types to us, to all,
Of God's sustaining hand;—
Are types of faith in Christ above
That day by day returns,
Hangs on the fulness of His love,
Receives but ever yearns;
That day by day returns,
Hangs on the fulness of His love,
Receives but ever yearns;
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Of grace that feeds our inward part
Renewed but still the same,
The small thing leavening all the heart,
We saw not when it came.
Renewed but still the same,
The small thing leavening all the heart,
We saw not when it came.
They sought each morn their measure sweet
The food the Lord had given—
Come we each day to Jesus' feet,
And find the bread of Heaven!
The food the Lord had given—
Come we each day to Jesus' feet,
And find the bread of Heaven!
THE VICTORY OVER AMALEK.
“And it came to pass when Moses held up his hand that Israel
prevailed.”—Exod. xvii. 11.
On red Rephidim's battle plain
The banners sank and rose again;
The tumult of the wild affray
Rolled round to Horeb's mountain grey,
Rolled down to thirsty Meribah,
As Israel's host swept past,
And Amalek's fierce battle-cry
Came surging up the blast.
The banners sank and rose again;
The tumult of the wild affray
Rolled round to Horeb's mountain grey,
Rolled down to thirsty Meribah,
As Israel's host swept past,
And Amalek's fierce battle-cry
Came surging up the blast.
Above the strife the leader hung
With hands upraised, and suppliant tongue,
And still his wearied arm was stayed,
And still the unceasing prayer was prayed,
Till evening held the setting sun
Wrapt in her mantle pale,
And Amalek, and all his host
Rushed routed down the vale.
With hands upraised, and suppliant tongue,
And still his wearied arm was stayed,
And still the unceasing prayer was prayed,
Till evening held the setting sun
Wrapt in her mantle pale,
And Amalek, and all his host
Rushed routed down the vale.
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Then ask us not why day by day
The same sweet morning prayers we say,
Why night by night our evensong
Peals in the same soft strain along
Why children seek the mother's knee
At eve to lisp their prayer,
While lingers rosy-fingered sleep
O'er their fringed eyelids fair.
The same sweet morning prayers we say,
Why night by night our evensong
Peals in the same soft strain along
Why children seek the mother's knee
At eve to lisp their prayer,
While lingers rosy-fingered sleep
O'er their fringed eyelids fair.
Nor say “ye vex God's patient ear,
And vain the strains that linger here—
A soulless form, a weary round,
A cry that hath no echoing sound,—
Ye hear no voice,—ye see no sign—
Adown Heaven's crystal stair,
No white-robed angels gliding bring
An answer to your prayer.”
And vain the strains that linger here—
A soulless form, a weary round,
A cry that hath no echoing sound,—
Ye hear no voice,—ye see no sign—
Adown Heaven's crystal stair,
No white-robed angels gliding bring
An answer to your prayer.”
Nay, but God loves the constant cry,
He wills the words should never die
That speak our needs—Prayer pushes prayer
Up into Heaven's sublimer air,
There round the throne eternally
They pass, and still repass—
Our whispers are the airs that breathe
Above the sea of glass.
He wills the words should never die
That speak our needs—Prayer pushes prayer
Up into Heaven's sublimer air,
There round the throne eternally
They pass, and still repass—
Our whispers are the airs that breathe
Above the sea of glass.
Within His temple shrine of old
He bade the Priests their watches hold;
Still through the carven cedar flowers
The deep chant swelled at solemn hours,
Still day by day the incense burning
Crushed out its odours sweet,
Still, morn and eve, the lamps were lighted
Before the mercy-seat.
He bade the Priests their watches hold;
Still through the carven cedar flowers
The deep chant swelled at solemn hours,
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Crushed out its odours sweet,
Still, morn and eve, the lamps were lighted
Before the mercy-seat.
And Nature with her quiet force
Of powers that keep their ordered course,
And circle on we know not why,
Doth teach a hidden rule more high;
The dews may drop to feed the earth,
But why should planets glow?
Why should the golden daisy cups
Look yearly from below?
Of powers that keep their ordered course,
And circle on we know not why,
Doth teach a hidden rule more high;
The dews may drop to feed the earth,
But why should planets glow?
Why should the golden daisy cups
Look yearly from below?
Yet night by night, so calmly pale
The stars through Heaven's blue ocean sail,
Yet year by year like scattered beads
The wild flowers come to deck our meads.
All have their places and their parts
In Heaven's sublime decrees,
And words that seemed to wander wide
Shall find their end like these.
The stars through Heaven's blue ocean sail,
Yet year by year like scattered beads
The wild flowers come to deck our meads.
All have their places and their parts
In Heaven's sublime decrees,
And words that seemed to wander wide
Shall find their end like these.
A fiercer foe have we to check
Than Israel's dreaded Amalek,
And our dear Church hath many a charm
To prompt the lip, and nerve the arm—
Service, and psalm, and litany,
Strong prayer, and solemn rite—
Like Aaron holding up the hands
That wearied on the height.
Than Israel's dreaded Amalek,
And our dear Church hath many a charm
To prompt the lip, and nerve the arm—
Service, and psalm, and litany,
Strong prayer, and solemn rite—
Like Aaron holding up the hands
That wearied on the height.
| Poems by Cecil Frances Alexander | |