Poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

The world may look serene and bright,
Our path bestrewn with choicest flowers;
And days of love and home-delight,
And nights of healthful rest be ours.
From worldly strife and worldly care
The heart a safe repose may win,
And yet feel all too weak to bear
The burden of unpardon'd sin.

II

The mists of grief but rarely dim
The glorious light of childhood's skies;
Life tingles in its every limb,
Health speaks and sparkles in its eyes:
Yet, e'en among its sports and toys
A cloud is gathering on its brow;
Stern conscience soon will blast the joys
Which steep the soul in gladness now.

III

Through many a green, secluded walk,
In life and hope's delicious May,
Engross'd in love's unwearying talk,
Fond youths and happy maidens stray.
Earth hath not a diviner bliss
On gentle spirits to bestow;
Yet boast not—for alas! e'en this
Unpardon'd sin converts to woe.

IV

The pleasant noise of children's mirth
Makes glad our sober middle age;
Bright faces, round the evening hearth,
The day's heart-wasting cares assuage.
But wife and children's sweetest smile—
The light that on our hearts doth fall—
The love that doth our griefs beguile—
Unpardon'd sin can poison all.

V

With steadfast thought and cheerful toil
The mines of learning we explore,
And waste our patient midnight oil
O'er many a page of ancient lore.
We seek and earn the sage's name,
We feel the sage's pride within;

But all our wisdom, all our fame,
Lie crush'd beneath unpardon'd sin.

VI

We give our hearts to humankind,
With liberal bounty we dispense
To fainting flesh and weary mind
The streams of our benevolence.
And poor men's tongues our kindness bless,
And earth and air our praises fill;
But, in the spirit's loneliness,
Unpardon'd sin consumes it still.

VII

He—he alone is truly blest
Whom God hath from this burden freed;
Whose doubts and fears are lull'd to rest,
Whose peace of heart is peace indeed:
Who, strong in faith, can lift to heaven
A tranquil and undaunted brow;
Who knows and feels his sin forgiven,
His soul's dark warfare ended now.

VIII

And who are they on whom alone
Descends this blessing from above?
To whom their Father hath made known
These tokens of especial love?
The Jew by circumcision's rite?—
The Christian by baptismal sign?—
On these doth more celestial light
Than on less favour'd spirits shine?

IX

Nor outward sign, nor mystic rite,
Alone such blessings can confer;—

To walk by faith, and not by sight—
Like Abraham's self a worshipper,—
To count all earthly gain but loss,—
To look and long to be forgiven
Through Him who died upon the cross—
This—this unlocks the gates of heaven.

FROM THE GOSPEL.

I

The angels' song was ended,
Sweet stillness fill'd the air,
Through which to Heaven ascended
The shepherds' silent prayer.
They gazed on one another,—
Strange thoughts were rife in them;
Then each cried, “Up, my brother!
Away to Bethlehem!

II

“Our sheep, in safety feeding
Upon the mountain side,
Beneath the watch-dog's leading
May wander far and wide.
From heat, and frost, and thunder,
God shelter flock and fold!
While we this work of wonder
Are journeying to behold.”

III

Forthwith each sturdy ranger
To Bethlehem took his way;
And soon they found the manger
Wherein the Saviour lay.
They bow'd the knee before him,
Those simple men and true;

They bless'd the womb that bore him,
The breast whose milk he drew.

IV

No sign of kingly splendour
Did that poor hovel grace;
But love, devout and tender,
Had sanctified the place:
For there the saintly mother,
The virgin undefiled,
In bliss she could not smother,
Was gazing on her child.

V

And, keeping watch above her,
In rapt and heavenly mood,
Her husband, friend, and lover,
Stout-hearted Joseph stood.
Such bliss no mortal father
E'er felt for his first-born,
As faith began to gather
In his pure soul that morn.

VI

And, as in smiling slumber
That blessed infant lay,
Bright visions without number
About him seem'd to play.
And in that lowly dwelling
A stillness, hush'd and dim,
Seem'd of the presence telling
Of viewless seraphim.

VII

They came and they departed,
Those simple, holy men;

And each felt joyful-hearted
As home he fared again:
But oft in thought they wander'd
To all they left behind;
While Mary kept and ponder'd
Their visit in her mind.