Chapter II: Part 2

Dawn of glory! radiant morn! To-day the Christ, our King, is born. Our King, our Saviour, Son of Man, And Son of God--all-wondrous plan! A Virgin's joy; a world's salvation; Humblest type of exaltation! Highest form of life despised; Visage marred, and beauty prized. By angels heralded on high; By men abhorred and doomed to die. Entombed secure 'neath seal and stone; Uprisen to the Eternal Throne! Hail, blessed light! Hail glorious morn! The Wonderful, the Christ is born!

"A DAY IN JUNE"

The Early Dawn looked out upon the world And cried, "How beautiful a world to be!" The Dawn herself was beautiful to see; Her hair of glowing golden light uncurled About a face of clear serenity, Whereon rose-tinted smiles played daintily and free. "Aye, fair the earth," she said, "most fair--and yet How can I for one briefest space forget How dark a stain its loveliness doth mar; A stain, a scourge, the cruel curse of war! Even now I dimly see and faintly hear The clang of drum, the clash of sword and spear." And pale with pity, swift she shrank away, Leaving the world and war to broader day.

The Sun at noon looked down upon the world;
From depths of vast ethereal blue looked down,
And mused, "You far, fair Earth, sure we must crown
Queen of the Universe. Great flags unfurled
O'er her bright waters witness high renown
Won by her creature, Man; aye, bring for Earth a crown!

Yet stay--there riseth over Afric plains A cloud of battle-smoke; with crimson stains Her rivers run; her hills and meadows fair, Trampled by hostile hordes, lie waste and bare. And yonder, in the islands of the sea, A people struggle vainly to be free; And everywhere the banners of fair fame Trail in the dust of hatred, greed and shame. No crown for Earth; I mourn so bright a star Lost in the chaos of consuming war." And veiled in robe of woe, he went his way, Borne by the passing hours to close of day.

The twilight lingered, and the Evening Star Looked back upon the world and whispered low: "These who have spoken surely could not know:-- Earth is a great, pure pearl, and seems from far Set with fair homes, like gems; in amber glow, Or emerald green, or gold or roseate snow. But hush! In palace hall a bitter cry; A mangled hero is borne in to die; And in yon lowly cot, a widow's moan;-- A mother's heart-break o'er her only son. Alas! 'tis true. Earth's battle-fields destroy Her noblest manhood; rob her homes of joy." And sad the Star of Evening sank from sight, While Earth lay shrouded in the gloom of night.

But from afar--beyond the Morning's birth, Beyond the depths whence Sun looked down on earth, Beyond the dreamy distance of the Star,-- A voice proclaimed: "They shall no more learn war."

TO-DAY

Light on my pathway, blessed Lord,
The light of life, I pray;
O, let the glory of Thy word
Shine o'er my life to-day.

I cry to Thee for present help,
Turn not my prayer away;
O Strength and Refuge of Thine own,
Keep Thou my soul to-day.

My willing but uncertain feet
Guide in Thy chosen way;
And let Thy grace sufficient be
For all my need to-day.

LOSING VICTORIES

My 'Infant Class' one summer morn,
Was gathered in the maple shade
Near the church door, and there we talked
Of the fair world our Lord had made--

The swaying trees upon the hill,
The waving grain, the shadowy grove--
Till every little heart seemed filled
With the sweet sense of Jesus' love.

A query came: Dear little ones,
As days go by what shall we do--
Since Jesus has so loved us all--
To show him that we love him too?

"I'll mind mama," said wilful Tim;
And Ben, "I'll carry in the wood;"
Said Mary, "I will lessons learn;"
While Dimple lisped, "I will be dood."

And how will Helen show her love?
She, with a wistful glance at Rose--
A sweet, but pale and timid child--
Replied, "By giving up, I 'spose."

Dear girl! To fragile sister Rose
She oft must yield her will and way;
But now this duty shall disclose
Her love for Jesus, day by day.

Oh oft, were we but wise, we'd find
Our triumph in another's gain;
On glowing altar--coals of love--
Would joy to see self-idols slain.

In simplest ways the soul may drink
With Christ the sacrificial cup,
And many a victory is won,
And nobly won, by 'giving up.'

NOT MINE

Thy will, Thy way, not mine, O blessed Lord;
My will would choose the smooth and pleasant way,
And that might lead from duty's path astray;
Nay, I would walk "according to Thy word,"
Choosing Thy way, not mine.

Thy peace, my gracious Saviour, would I choose,
My peace might lead me man, not God, to please,
Might lure my soul to take its selfish ease,
And, gaining all the world, itself to lose,
Give me Thy peace, not mine.

Thy will, Thy way, Thy peace, Thou knowest best;
Let me but see the guiding of Thine eye,
Let me but know Thy voice, and swift reply
My soul shall make to every know behest,
Doing Thy will, not mine.

IN THE DESERT

Ah me! what life since hers in age agone Hath not known Hagar's hour in desert wild; Outcast from sheltering home, adrift, alone, Bereft of love's sweet ministry, her child-- Her heart's one treasure--late so fond and fair, Become a burden more than she could bear; All earth and sky a strange enfolding scroll Writ o'er with nameless pain and sense of need To which nor pitying eye nor ear gave heed _Till came the thought of God._ Even so the soul, Consumed with vain regret and doubt and dread-- As she upon the barren sand her boy-- Lays all it once had counted hope and joy Upon the desolate waste itself had spread; Self-abnegating, tho with bitter cry-- "I yield thee, but I cannot see thee die." But, passing thence, the agonizing plea Faith transforms into tuneful harmony, Glad to remember "Thou, God, seest me."

A PHANTOM IN THE "CIRCLE"

Written for a literary club, to which the author had formerly belonged, in Waterford, Va.

Start not, good friends; there was a time When I, whom fate, in kindly mood, Made brief sojourner in your clime, Was glad partaker of the good That from your "Circle" emanated; And as the seven days went 'round The appointed "Fourth-day evening" found Me with its members congregated. And also now I recognize The smiling lips and beaming eyes Of some, who, cordial, kind and free, Had smiles and loving words for me. Who, when I entered rose to greet, And welcome gave, sincere and sweet. But that was years ago, and now There may be wrinkles on my brow; There may have fled from form and face The transient charms of youth and grace, And time and sadness may have thrown A shadow o'er the "chestnut brown" Of locks that once--well, let that pass;-- These are but sorrowful reflections, And, like those of my looking-glass, Do but discover imperfections; So let us leave this train of thought And start in happier directions. But first I think it may be due Alike unto myself and you, Lest some should think I may have brought My ghostly presence here unsought, To make this note of explanation:-- That not for pride, or praise, or gloom, Or curious motive am I come; Nor yet for want of occupation; Far from intruding thus, I would Have it distinctly understood I'm here by "special invitation."

Here! and my phantom pulses quicken! Pale memories gather round me fast, And now they grow, and gleam, and thicken, And fan me with their wings of light, And bear me to a realm more bright Than fairy land or elfin home, Or that sweet world whence dreams do come The heaven of a happy Past!

* * * * *

Familiar faces on me smile, Remembered voices greet my ear, And social converse gives the while, The old-time wisdom and good cheer. But while we're all engaged in chat, Of work, of weather, and all that, And voices rise and smiles grow broader, Presiding dignity comes forth With modest but "amazing" worth And calls the whole concern to order. Then "minutes" penned by snow-white hand, Approved without dissension stand; And hushed is all the talk and noise The while some soft or manly voice From gifted author doth unfold Before us treasures new and old. We grant them rare, yet lay them by Our intellectual strength to try In essay, speech, or declamation; We reverence the might of mind, But here our home-spun thoughts still find A kindlier appreciation. With hushed breath and eyes that glisten, To some fine argument we listen, From one with head so full of lore That to prevent its brimming o'er He must impart his information. The which he does "by book and rule," Achieving in the village school A never-ceasing reformation. With rapt attention now we hear A discourse upon Sound and Ear, Wherein is beautifully blended, The Science and the History, The Knowledge and the Mystery So fair, when fairly comprehended. Then some poetic brain is fired, Some secret spring unlocked, for A brother brings, with love inspired, Kind thoughts in glowing words attired, And prays at once with heart and pen-- And all the people say Amen-- "God bless the Country Doctor."

And "lesser lights" send out a gleam Of intellectual glory; And many a grave or playful theme, Or fact profound, or doubtful dream, Or song, or allegory Beguiles the gloom of winter night, And makes the slow hours swift and light; To social pleasure adds a charm, Makes young hearts wise and old hearts warm, And Life a pleasant story.

* * * * *

O friends, I live it o'er again! I cross the gulf 'twixt Now and Then, And live that happy time again; Its varied joy and brightness, all-- The crowded room, the lighted hall, The merry laugh, the friendly nod-- And bless the Fate that brought--but no, Let us not read these chances so-- _Fate is the Sovereign will of God_; He marks the paths by mortals trod; And He appoints our joy and woe. Then bless we God, whose gracious hand Hath led us gently on our way; By whose good will to-day we stand Rejoicing that we live to-day. By whose sweet mercy yet we trust That all of us which is not dust, From time and toils of earth shall rise To nobler life beyond the skies.

A VALENTINE

Up in the same sweet heaven,
Though parted far,
We two may see at even
The same bright star.

So the same blessed guide-star
Of Love divine
Illumines with its glory
Thy path and mine.

When thoughts of these, of heaven
And love are thine,
Be one kind memory given
Thy Valentine.

A CONVENTION HYMN

Bless us now, our Heavenly Father,
As we gather once again
And unite our hearts and voices
In a grateful, glad refrain;
Praises for a Father's bounty,
Praises for a Saviour's reign.

Guide us by thy Holy Spirit,
Lead us in thy perfect way;
Show us as we strive to serve Thee,
What to do and what to say;
Teach us how to work and suffer,
How to watch and how to pray.

Gracious Lord, we come with pleading
For our tempted brother's sin;
At the open door of mercy
Praying Thou wilt take him in.
Sin-sick, heart-sore and repentant,
Let him now new life begin.

And we bring our sister, moaning
Over blighted hope and home;
Robbed of all life's best possessions
By the ruthless spoiler--Rum,
To her rest in Thy compassion,
Bid the heavy-laden "Come."

And we pray, O God of Nations,
That thine outstretched arm of might,
May rebuke this prowling evil,
May drive back the powers of night,
And preserve us Home and Country
Overruled by Love and Right.

A COLLECTION SONG

FOR THE LOYAL TEMPERANCE LEGION

Kind friends, we thank you, one and all,
For giving such attention,
While we've arraigned Old Alcohol,
And of his faults made mention.
And if you'd like to see him now
Put "in a pretty pickle,"
Just lend a hand and help us on
By giving us a nickel.

He stalks the earth from east to west,
A deal of mischief doing;
But we are "on the war-path" now,
Old Alcohol pursuing.
So if you'd like to see him caught
And punished for his crime, sir,
Just lend a hand and help us on
By tossing us a dime, sir.

He robs our homes of peace and joy;
He fills the land with sighing;
Sets snares and pitfalls for our feet,
(He'd better be a-dying.)
So if you think he should be slain,
As we believe he'd or'ter,
Just lend a hand and help us on
By handing out a quarter.

He boasts himself a King--by law
And license well protected;
But now "the children are a-field"
We'll have him soon ejected.
So if you'd see us tackle him,
And take him by the collar,
Just lend a hand and help us on
By dropping in a dollar.

THE BALLAD OF THE BOUNDARY LINE

"Here shall the Boundary Line be laid." "Not so, but here," the other said. Clamor of contest ran fierce and high,-- Defiant challenge and proud reply.

For heights of the Andes rose between The Chilean States and the Argentine; And the mooted question, day by day, Was "What doth limit my neighbor's sway?"

The sunlight rose and the shadows fell On either slope, but none could tell Just where the morning's magic wand Touched the Argentine or Chile land.

Fair in their verdure, pure in their snow, So near to heaven their summits go-- Why should they ever by man be trod? 'Twould seem they should only belong to God.

But the strife went on with passing years, Fed by resentment and pride and fears; Nor priest nor people could yet define The rightful range of the Boundary Line.

The strife went on with its loss and shame, As generations went and came, And each in its turn the task essayed To solve the problem so long delayed.

* * * * *

Then kinder, kinglier thought prevailed, Where threat of sword and gun had failed; And love-illumined reason wrought The adjustment long so vainly sought.

"For how can a trifle of earth and air With the worth of human lives compare? And what can it matter if thine or mine Be the narrow side on the Boundary Line?

"And why should greed and grim distrust Despoil us of our faith and trust? Enough, enough, let us pledge our word To settle by judgment, not by sword.

"Let us heed the counsel our good priests bring, And raise the standard of Christ our King, And the here or there of the Boundary Line Let God and the British king define."

Then the mother-heart of the nation stirred, As the fair De Costa's plea was heard: "Fathers and brothers! warriors, men! Shall we give our bravest to death and pain?

"Shall we hush our hearts as we see them go-- God pity!--to strive with a brother foe? Long we have waited, have suffered and prayed For a joy still denied us, a hope still delayed.

"Enough; let the sun in highest heaven Pencil the line for which you have striven; Let a princely people on either side In friendship and fair accord abide;

"Be the strife of the past to the wild winds swept; The faith of the future unswervingly kept; And let 'The Christ of the Andes' rest In token of peace on the mountain's crest."

Grandly the people made reply; The pledge was taken, the arms laid by, And glad thanksgiving and festal song Witnessed the joy of the gathered throng.

Joy! for the strife of the past was o'er; Joy! for the promise of war no more; Joy in the gladness of land and home, Joy for the world-wide peace to come.

On snow-tipped height of the Andean range They planted the statue fair and strange; And there, to the query of the sky, Its bronze and granite make reply:

"I witness the failure of the sword, The victory of the Love-sent word; To dust may crumble rock and hill, This pledge of nations abideth still."

* * * * *

So now the Boundary Line is laid; Christ in the heart hath the conflict stayed; And now doth "the Christ of the Andes" rest In token of peace on the mountain's crest.

MARGARET LEE

Margaret Lee--you do not know her?
Rightly named--a pearl is she;
Half a score of years I've loved her--
Precious Margaret Lee.

"Dimples?" No; nor "golden tresses,"
Nor yet "voice of silvery tone";--
If such phrases must express her,
Beauty she has none.

Soft brown hair and grey eyes dreaming
Visions that none others see;
Plain her features; _you_ might call her
Homely Margaret Lee.

Margaret owns no stately mansion,
Carries not a heavy purse;
Heiress to no "lordly acres,"
Humble station hers.

Quietly she treads life's highway;
Quiet, yet with noble mien;
'Mid the lowly, 'mid the lofty
Journeying like a queen.

Some have called her cold and haughty,
From her bearing, high and free;
Some have said a lofty spirit
Dwells with Margaret Lee.

Why then do the "heavy-laden"
Hail with joy her coming nigh?
Why the childern love her shadow
As she passeth by?

Some have deemed her weak, erratic.
Some, too self-reliant, strong;
One avers, her mood too gloomy;
One, too light her song.

All may be; the clouds of error
Ofttimes overshade her way,
Hiding where the rough and changeful
Paths of duty lay.

But unseen by mortal vision
Daily bends a suppliant knee;
Humbly bows a contrite spirit--
Praying Margaret Lee--

Asking of the All-forgiving
Pardon for her erring life;
Seeking wisdom, faith and patience
For its coming strife.

So with footstep sometimes faltering,
But with steadfast hope in God,
Keeps she still a blithesome journey
O'er the earthly road.

And at last all loss and failure
Lost in mercy, it may be
Heaven's gate of pearl will open
For sweet Margaret Lee.

There redeemed from sin and sorrow,
There from care and conflict free;
She will walk the angel city,
Angel Margaret Lee.

SOARING UPWARD

A. G. M., lingering on the threshold of eternity, looked lovingly back to tell of the glory revealed to her purified vision. "Angels are waiting," she whispered, "and all is beautiful, beautiful." Then, as her spirit winged its happy way, a sweet murmur again was heard, and the words were: "Soaring upward, upward into Heaven."

They call thee dead. They say that thou art gone,
Forevermore from earth. It is not so;
I know thy gentle spirit will return
And linger fondly round the loved below.

They call thee dead. And now thou art not ours;
"God touched thee," for thy work on earth was done.
Thy presence was to us like summer flowers;
And they are faded now; and thou art gone.

I had not thought, fair girl, that thou couldst die;
I knew thee gentle, innocent and gay;
And dreamed not that the brightness of thine eye,
Was destined thus so soon to fade away.

'Tis well: "He giveth His beloved sleep,"--
O Sleeper, thou so early loved and blest!
Say, were it wrong, if we who linger weep,
And long to sleep, like thee, and be at rest?

Ay, we who linger should not idlers be;
Day hath appointed work from morn till even;
And while we wait 'tis sweet to think of thee
As "soaring upward, upward into heaven!"

THE END OF THE ROAD

Do you wonder at my smiling?
Do you wonder that I faint not 'neath the burden of my load?
O, the gloom and toil and duty
Change to light and praise and beauty
While I'm looking toward the end of the road.

Though the way is long and dreary,
And I languish for a happier, a more serene abode,
As the light of earth grows dimmer,
Looking up, I see the glimmer
Of its glory at the end of the road.

Though the talent seemeth meager,
And my Sovereign Lord doth gather, ever, where He hath not strowed,
Yet I would not therefore spurn it,
But "with usury" return it,
At His coming at the end of the road.

Though I now go forth with weeping,
If I bear the precious seed which the Master would have sowed,
I shall come again with singing,
Sheaves of plenty with me bringing
To His harvest at the end of the road.

Peace shall follow tribulation:
This the boon Divine Compassion upon mortal hath bestowed;
Heavy now the cross I'm bearing;
Bright the crown I'll soon be wearing
In the Temple at the end of the road.

* * * * *

Transcriber's Note

Spelling oddities have been retained from the original book.