Chapter II

Came she, 'mid the many passers by;
Quick of the wit and clear of the eye.

She, of the high-bred, Christian school,
Soul-lit and sunned of the golden rule.

Questioned she whether! halted she long!
Qualms of propriety right no wrong.

Yield form and fashion their fitting place;
Yet, cramp not the soul in meaner space.

Hence to marauders, and riskings of fate,
She quietly closed--then latched the gate.

Trumpet bequests of the miser-mind,
Who spreads abroad when he cannot bind.

Boast ye those deeds which blazon the name,
Lofty as adamant heights of Fame.

Dawning of glory! the world's great heart
Throbs not its truest response to art.

Nor skill, nor fame, nor glamour of gold;
Only Love's chain doth the world enfold.

And those who will soar on angel wings,
Are the generous even in smaller things.

Generous when shadows darken fate,
To close 'gainst evil a neighbor's gate.

THE HIDING PLACE.[Note]

The low, sweet voice of a summer's sea
Floats far along the pebbly strand;
Whilst melodies, from greening grove,
Resound o'er all the pleasant land.
The streamlet, freed from icy band,
Sings gaily on its seaward way;
All nature, in responsive mood,
Doth chime in Springtide roundelay.

What notes discordant dare to mar
Those tender cadenzas of song?
Can those shrill tones be tones of wrath
On softest zephyrs borne along?
Yea! over Ocean's peaceful hum
A woman's wrathful voice soars high;
And through the green-arched forest aisles
Rings out young childhood's plaintive cry.

Who cometh, arrayed in priestly guise,
Full-charged with embassy divine,
Of noble mien, of princely port,
Of lofty brow and look benign?
The mother stays the uplifted hand;--
The culprit turned, and quickly ran
And refuge sought, and shelter found
Beneath cloak of the holy man.

Calm, clear and firm the warning fell
"Forgive! if thou wouldst be forgiven;
Whose heart doth harbor angry thoughts
Can ne'er as penitent be shriven.

Forgive thy son! this once forgive!
His surety I shall gladly be;
Or, if justice claimeth punishment,
Then--visit his crimes on me."

* * * * *

The years rolled on; the priestly garb
Bedecks a princely prelate now;
The saintly voice a blessing speaks
From underneath a mitred brow.
In his rounds of zeal the Bishop seeks
Once more fair Lennox' sea-girt isle;
When lo! from out the gathering shades,
The brilliant lights of welcome smile.

In centre of a glittering throng
The reverend Father stately stands;
And, in the name of the Triune God,
He upraiseth his sacred hands.
Whilst, leader in that vast array,
Whose torches brighten wave and shore,
Is he whose faults were answered for;
The saved of many years before.

So we, in our rebel sin-nature,
Pine under the chastening rod;
And fly with our burden of evil
From wrath of a just-dealing God,
To hide in Christ's sheltering raiment
Of righteousness, inwove with peace;
To find, in a sinless substitute,
The sin-fettered soul's release.

So we, when our Great High Priest shall come,
Begirt of power, enrobed of state,
And the peoples of ten thousand isles
With eager joy His advent wait,
Shall hail, with a heartsong of rapture,
His step on our sin-furrowed strand;
Shall march, with the grand triumphal throng,
In the glow of a God-lit land.

A CHRISTMAS MEMORY.

Hail Christmas! beacon ever bright;
Athwart the way-worn years;
Full lustred of celestial light,
Thy white-robed dawn appears.
Blest season! when our much beloved
Around one altar meet;
When voices from the spirit-land
Our longing spirits greet.

In tender memories arise,
Sunlit, the days of old,
When radiant vistas oped the skies
And streaked earth's grey with gold.
Beneath a lofty castle dome
Three fair young dreamers smile;
And, fraught of love, the light of home,
The flitting hours beguile.

They wander by the river side,
They rest in woodland bowers;

Pure joy flows like the rippling tide
Through all the sunny hours.
They climb the purple mountain crest,
They list the vesper call;--
Ah me! gay life, then quiet rest;
Earth's shadows! darksome pall!

Yet, lo! seraphic vision breaks;--
That beauteous band I see,
Where glory-dawn in gladness wakes;
Where all the ransomed be.
High-seated in Immanuel's land,
'Yond shadow of the tomb;
Safe-nurtured 'neath a Father's hand
Immortal youth doth bloom.

Oh! happy, happy hearted!
Who tread the golden floor;
Oh! sinless, early parted!
Who live, to die no more.
Bright land, where none may sever!
Where life is life for aye;
Where, through the long forever,
No night shall veil the day.

Within the grand, orchestral throng
They harp, with crownèd brow;
While sadness mingles with our song,
We at His footstool bow.
Hail Christmas! light to weary eyes!
Light thou the years along;
Till, all as one in Paradise,
We sing our Christmas song.

THE IMMIGRANT'S APPEAL.

Oh! ye who suffer ills untold
Upon the ground you tread!
Whose children pine from want and cold,
And cry in vain for bread,
Fold not your hands o'er cruel fate,
Nor weep with blinded eyes;
Look onward! peace and plenty wait
Aneath our western skies.

I left my home in Erin's Isle,
By Shannon's glittering wave,
I bade farewell a mother's smile,
A youthful husband's grave.
Together with my orphan band
I crossed the raging sea,
And sought and found in this bright land
A home for them and me.

Where riches may not rob the feast
Won by the hand of toil;
Nor oust the man to feed the beast
Upon God's fertile soil.
Where sterling worth may upright stand,
Where industry is blessed;--
Yes! though I love my native land,
I love this land the best.

Here Scotia finds her sweet blue bell,
Here Erin's shamrock blows;
Whilst incense floats o'er hill and dell
From England's fragrant rose.

Each country finds its own again
Tenfold, in this great world,
Where Freedom's hand, from mount to main,
Her banner hath unfurled.

Fair Canada! all lands above
In power to conquer wrong;
Thou yieldest love in turn for love,
Thy strength shall aye be strong.
Oh beauteous, peerless, wide domains!
Oh ever teeming store!
Though exiled myriads seek thy plains,
There's room for myriads more.

Now, where the Rocky summits rise,
At tender eve's decline,
I watch the sun of cloudless skies
O'er many an acre shine.
My heart's best treasures by my side,
The years may ebb and flow;
Till I shall greet, 'yond storm and tide,
The loved of long ago.

THE QUEEN'S JUBILEE.