Poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

Through the world's frequented places—
Busy street and broad high-way—
'Midst the throng of human faces,
Year by year and day by day—
Wisdom's earnest voice is calling
To the slaves whom sloth and sin
Hold, in sensual chains enthralling,
“Come ye, to my vineyard, in!”

II

Happy, in life's cloudless morning,
Yea, of all men happiest they

Who receive that heavenly warning,
Hear it and at once obey!
They, ere lust hath dimm'd the splendour
Of the opening world within—
Ere the heart hath grown less tender,—
Break the bonds of sense and sin.

III

Them no sore avulsion rendeth
From this world's vain hopes and fears;
No unheal'd remembrance blendeth
Anguish with their after years.
Time by them hath ne'er been wasted;—
Ere life's tempting paths they trod,—
Ere life's poison'd cup they tasted,—
They became the sons of God.

IV

Them no storm of woe compelleth
To their Father's arms to flee;
In their hearts His Spirit dwelleth
Richly e'en from infancy.
Christ to love's unceasing duty
Them with silken cords constrains,
And with gleams of heavenly beauty
Soothes their sorrows, charms their pains.

V

Happy they! but few in number!—
Till mid age the millions lie
Wrapt in dreams of sensual slumber,
While life's brightest hours go by.
Them, amidst their cares or pleasures,
Wisdom's voice again invites;
“Come—secure your heavenly treasures,
Flee from Earth's impure delights!”

VI

Some there be who heed and hearken,
Cast their worthless gauds away,
Ere life's noon begins to darken,
Shade by shade, to twilight grey.
Wealth to them becomes a bubble,
Honour but an empty name;
—Farewell now life's toil and trouble,
Fraud and folly, sin and shame!

VII

Nobler hopes have stirr'd within them,
Loftier aims engage the breast;
Heaven and heavenly labours win them
From this feverish world's unrest.
They the better part have chosen,
Late, but not too late to toil;
Years not yet the heart have frozen,
Though rank weeds o'erspread its soil.

VIII

Noon hath past;—life's fervour waneth;
O'er the temperate heart and will
Sensual lust less blindly reigneth,
Yet the spirit slumbereth still.
Wisdom's voice again upbraideth—
“Haste—life's sun will soon go down;
Ere its light for ever fadeth,
Wake and win your heavenly crown.”

IX

Fainter now that voice appeareth,
Yet it will not cease to plead,
Till the awaken'd sleeper heareth,
Till his heart is touch'd indeed.
From life's evening rest he starteth,
Eager some few hours to save

(Ere the time for work departeth)
From the darkness of the grave.

X

Eve is gone;—grey twilight's glimmer
Veileth life's cold cloudy sky;—
Soul and sense are now grown dimmer,—
Fadeth ear and heart and eye.
In the wreck of thought and feeling
Earthly love is waxing cold;
Yet are Wisdom's accents stealing
To the soul in sin grown old.

XI

Lo!—the hoary sinner turneth
Feebly to the awakening sound;
In his heart strange fervour burneth,
Love hath sin's strong chain unwound.
Little hath he now to proffer,—
Time and strength and health are gone;—
What remains behold him offer—
“Lord! in me thy will be done!”

XII

Yea! even so:—thy ways, O Father!
Are not as our mortal ways;
Thou canst life's whole harvest gather
From its worst and weakest days.
To thy just decision bending,
At thy feet our works we cast;
Though, in bliss all thought transcending,
Last be first, and first be last!