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Poems

By Richard Chenevix Trench: New ed

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A CENTURY OF COUPLETS.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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165

A CENTURY OF COUPLETS.

To halls of heavenly truth admission wouldst thou win,
Oft Knowledge stands without, while Love may enter in.
Who praises God the most, what says he more than he
Who silent is? yet who would therefore silent be?
Thy treasures lodged so low, earth's damps will soon consume:
While time is, lift them up into a higher room.
Lovingly to each other sun and moon give place,
Else were the mighty heaven for them too narrow space.
Lodged in a ruinous hut, thou loathest to depart:
Were thine a prouder house, 'twould prove a bitterer smart.
Only the waters which in perfect stillness lie,
Give back an undistorted image of the sky.
Despise not little sins; for mountain-high may stand
The pilëd heap made up of smallest grains of sand.
Despise not little sins; the gallant ship may sink,
Though only drop by drop the watery tide it drink.

166

Thy soul is that fair bride which hell and Heaven woo,
And one perforce must win, to make or to undo.
Merely thyself, O man, thou canst not long abide,
But presently for less or greater must decide.
God many a spiritual house has reared, but never one
Where lowliness was not laid first, the corner stone.
Owe no man aught save love; but that esteem a debt,
Which thou must ever pay, well pleased to owe it yet.
Rear highly as thou wilt thy branches in the air,
But that thy roots descend as deep in earth have care.
Sin, not till it is left, will duly sinful seem;
A man must waken first, ere he can tell his dream.
Glad news were it to hear that thou shouldst never die?
Glad news that pain and sin should last eternally!
When thou art fain to trace a map of thine own heart,
As undiscovered land set down the largest part.
Wouldst thou do harm, and still unharmed thyself abide?
None struck another yet, except through his own side.
God's dealings still are love; his chastenings are alone
Love now compelled to take an altered sterner tone.
From our ill-ordered hearts we oft are fain to roam,
As men go forth who find unquietness at home.

167

Oh misery! that man will not man's words receive,
Nor, that the serpent stings, till stung himself, believe
Why furnish with such care thy lodging of a night,
And leave thy lasting home in such a naked plight?
Loved wilt thou be? then love by thee must first be given;
No purchase-money else avails beneath the heaven.
When thou hast thanked thy God for every blessing sent,
What time will then remain for plaint or discontent?
Envy detects the spots in the clear orb of light,
And Love the little stars in gloomiest saddest night.
Thou canst not choose but serve; man's lot is servitude
But this of choice thou hast, a bad lord or a good.
As from mine own sin more and farther I depart,
Ah me! my brother's sin will grow a bitterer smart.
One foe we have, who, cherished, rages with worse ire,
Whom to give place to is like oil upon the fire.
Before the eyes of men let duly shine thy light,
But ever let thy life's best part be out of sight.
My proud foe at my hands to take no boon will choose—
—Thy prayers are that one gift which he cannot refuse.
Plead guilty at man's bar, and go to judgment straight;
At God's no other way remains to shun that fate.

168

As fish with poisoned baits, so pleasures soon are caught;
'Tis pity both should prove, so taken, good for nought.
We children are from earth weaned hardly, so Heaven strews
Some wormwood on earth's breasts, as tenderest mothers use.
Wouldst thou go forth to bless, be sure of thine own ground;
Fix well thy centre first, then draw thy circles round.
Sin may be clasped so close we cannot see her face,
Nor seen nor loathed until held from us a small space.
Win lowliness of heart, and having won beware,
And that thou grow not proud of lowliness have care.
Man is a star of heaven cast down upon the earth,
A prince in beggar's weeds, half conscious of his birth.
The sun is in the heavens, on earth the sunshine bright,
And we may close our eyes, but not put out the light.
Who plays a part, from shame shall not keep always clear;
Hard is it to be good, but harder to appear.
Their windows and their doors some close, and murmuring say,
The light of heaven ne'er found into my house a way.
How fearful is his case whom now God does not chide,
When sinning worst; to whom even chastening is denied!

169

When man against the powers above him dared rebel,
His subjects learned from him the rebel's art as well.
God often would enrich, but finds not where to place
His treasure, nor in hand nor heart a vacant space.
The man is happy, Lord, who love like this doth owe,
Loves Thee, his friend in Thee, and for thy sake his foe.
If thou wouldst know sin's strength, thy lusts how hard to tame,
Against them take up arms, and earnest war proclaim.
A dreamer do not wake, if, when his dream is fled,
Thou canst not give him aught of better in its stead.
The oyster sickens while the pearl doth substance win:
Thank God for pains that prove a noble growth within.
Some are resigned to go: might we such grace attain,
That we should need our resignation to remain.
God's loudest threatenings speak of love and tenderest care,
For who, that meant his blow to light, would cry, Beware?
What is our work when God a blessing would impart?
To bring the empty vessel of a needy heart.
Can ever the true prayer of faith unheard remain?
Must not what came from God to Him return again?
Oh leave to God at sight of sin incensed to be;
If thou art grieved, O man, that is enough for thee.

170

Till life is coming back, our death we do not feel;
Light must be entering in, our darkness to reveal.
Use thou, but love not things, given only with intent
To be alleviations of thy banishment.
To lay thy soul's worst sins before thy Lord endure:
Who will not show his hurts, can he expect a cure?
Ill fares the child of heaven, who will not entertain
On earth the stranger's grief, the exile's sense of pain.
Mark how there still has run, enwoven from above,
Through thy life's darkest woof the golden thread of love.
Sin, like a serpent, where her head an entrance finds,
Easily her whole length of body after winds.
What is thy fear, O soul? the fear of that dark place,
Or fear to lose the light of thy Creator's face?
Call not this goodly world a place of harsh restraint:
Such prison-house it were not, but for thy complaint.
Captain and King thou art, and canst command and fight;
Yet summon first the Chancellor, and learn the right.
The jailer of himself, he keeps the keys of hell
In his own hands, who yet must there for ever dwell.
Acknowledge present good, or thou wilt need to learn,
And by its loss, thy good, thy mercies to discern.

171

Some say man has no hurts; some seek them to reveal
And to exasperate more; and some to hide and heal.
Ashes and dust thou art—confess it so to be,
And from that moment forth it is not true for thee.
Whence is it if the Lord, the mighty God, is high,
That, lifting up myself, I find Him not more nigh?
Truth, knowledge, wisdom, love, oh lay up these in store,
True wealth which we may share, and yet ourselves have more.
Things earthly we must know ere love them: 'tis alone
Things heavenly that must be first loved and after known.
To see the face of God, this makes the joy of Heaven;
The purer then the eye, the more joy will be given.
Who claims thy praise, because the visions of his youth
He now has learned to mock, deserves thy saddest ruth.
The sinews of Love's arm use makes more firm and strong,
Which, being left unused, will fade and fail ere long.
When God afflicts thee, think He hews a rugged stone,
Which must be shaped, or else aside as useless thrown.
'Tis ill with man when this is all he cares to know
Of his own self, to wit, his vileness and his woe.
With patience to endure our griefs we learn not soon,
But how much later still to take them as a boon?

172

I heard a man proclaim, all men were wholly base:
One such at once I knew there stood before my face.
God loves to work in wax, not marble; let Him find,
When He would mould thine heart, material to his mind.
The same rains rain from heaven on all the forest-trees,
Yet those bring forth sweet fruits, and poisonous berries these.
A thousand blessings, Lord, to us Thou dost impart:
We ask one blessing more, O Lord—a thankful heart.
Wouldst thou abolish quite strongholds of self and sin?
Fear can but make the breach for Love to enter in.
To cure thee of thy pride, that deepest-seated ill,
God humbled his own self—wilt thou thy pride keep still?
God humble and man proud! do angels, when they range
This earth, see any sight at once so sad and strange?
Each dark unloving thought that mirror helps to stain,
Which should God's image true give back to thee again.
What thing thou lovest most, thou mak'st its nature thine,
Earthly, if that be earth—if that be God, divine.
Who showed me that my wound was deadly, made me note,
And at the self-same time, the healing antidote.

173

Earth waits for sunshine, dew, and rain from heaven above;
So man should wait from God for pity, grace, and love.
Evil, like a rolling stone upon a mountain top,
A child may first impel, a giant cannot stop.
He knew who healed our wounds, we quickly should be fain
Our old hurts to forget—so let the scars remain.
All noblest things are still the commonest; every place
Has water, light, and air, and God's abounding grace.
He is not wholly lost, retaining love for aught;
Large fire from smallest spark has many times been brought.
God asks not what, but whence, thy work is: from the fruit
He turns his eye away, to prove the inmost root.
Oh work thy works in God; He can rejoice in nought
Save only in Himself, and what Himself has wrought.
When will the din of earth grate harshly on our ears?
When we have once heard plain the music of the spheres.
All nature has a voice, and this the sunflower's word,
I look unto the light; look thou unto the Lord.
The magnet cries, We both must to our pole incline,
Restless, till that be found, and God, O man, is thine.

174

Why win we not at once what we in prayer require?
That we may learn great things as greatly to desire.
To schools of wisdom men with such small profit go,
Because they can but learn what they already know.
One furnace many times will good and evil hold;
Yet what consumes the dross will only cleanse the gold.
God, being great, great gifts most willingly imparts,
But we continue poor, that have such narrow hearts.
The tasks, the joys of earth, the same in heaven will be;
Only the little brook has widened to a sea.
Who hunt this world's delight, too late their hunting rue,
When it a lion proves, the hunter to pursue.
Oh wherefore in such haste in men's sight to appear?
The cedar yields no fruit until its fiftieth year.