Chapter LXXXIX: Preface (1)

When the CHRISTIAN BALLADS first appeared, I appended to the book several little poems of a different character, with the announcement that they were selected from a forthcoming volume. Although I afterwards determined not to publish that volume in a collected form, its contents have, to a great extent, found their way into print; and are from time to time reviving, and dying newspaper deaths, sometimes with the loss of limbs, and even parts more vital. I have been induced therefore to collect and arrange them, and, in an unostentatious form, to present them to the public: supposing that my friends will not be unwilling to have these early efforts, in a legitimate shape, and that others will find the volume too unpretending to deserve their censure.

These poems, except a few introduced in place of others destroyed, were written in my early years. They were begun in the Summer of 1836, when I was passing a college vacation under my father’s roof, at Auburn, in Western New York. It was my privilege there to meet the friend, to whose memory I have inscribed them; and to his musical taste, and his frequent suggestion that I should give him words for some of his favorite airs, the production of the songs and hymns in this collection, was chiefly owing. Little did I foresee that they would be published as a tribute to his beloved memory!

As motives of ambition would dictate the suppression of this boyish book, after the favorable reception bestowed by the public, on my later productions, I shall find every anticipation satisfied, if in the opinion of goodnatured critics, these Lays are not unworthy of the years in which they were written.

A. C. C.
The Sycamores, Hartford West,
August 15, 1843.

LAYS.

GIVE ME THE HOUR.

1.

Give me the hour of day’s decline
To muse upon my own,
To call from Earth each wish of mine,
And dream of Heaven alone;
And let nor voice, nor foot intrude
Upon my meditative mood,
As stretched in lonely cell or bower,
I feel the shades, that o’er the lea,
Come lengthening till they fall on me
And veil my pensive hour.

2.

For I have loved the Eventide,
While yet I knew not why;
But now, since early friends have died,
’Tis dear as memory.
It minds me of their quiet sleep
’Neath many a grassy mound; or deep
The floods of far-off seas below!
It tells me how my years steal on,
How strong and lovely ones have gone,
And how we all must go!

3.

My name shall ne’er be writ with those
Whose friendships death can end;
No grave upon my love can close,
No tomb take all my friend;
Not only in communion blest,
I share their beatific rest,
But oft to ev’n mine earthly ken,
Their Death seems but a signet set,
To love, whose converse passeth yet,
All life with worldly men.

4.

To think of names, once daily heard,
That now are read in stone,
And know each gesture, look, and word,
Familiar smile and tone,
As all would be, could they but still
Give hand and heart with thine to thrill,
This is a pure though sad delight!
And such is mine, at that sweet hour
When wakes the star, and dies the flower,
As sunset turns to night.

5.

Thus ye come back, my own dear dead,
From Paradise’s door,
To fill with feelings hallowed,
The world ye blessed before!
When we were mates, ye drew with mine,
Life’s pictured way, in equal line,
Nor dreamed we, ye were near its goal;
Where hand-in-hand we thought to be,
Ye’ve left a lonely race to me;
Ah, shall I run the whole!

* * * * *

HYMN OF THE WREATH.

1.

Ah gentle flowers!
Long time enough my life has run,
To twine dear thoughts, with every one,
That blooms in bowers.

2.

My couch beside,
When I am sick,—each flings a scent
Of its own story redolent,
O’er memory’s tide.

3.

There’s pert heartsease!
The boy’s own flower shall still be mine
While thoughts of childhood’s auld-lang-syne,
My heart can please.

4.

The parlour’s pride,
Sweet hyacinth—thy full perfume
Reminds of home—the curtained room,
And warm fireside.

5.

The primrose lone,
I see it ever on its stalk,
Flush in my favorite woodland walk
Spring’s first full-blown.

6.

And crocus, too,
I’ve seen it up on Easter-day;
Sweet symbol, from the frozen clay
Rising anew!

7.

The coiled woodbine,
Brings some fair cottager to sight,
That to her lattice, trails aright
Its tangled vine.

8.

Rose—red or pale,
Yellow or mossy—who shall sing,
Thy fragrant memories, queenly thing,
Or tell their tale!

9.

Starred jessamine!
Thy glory shall adorn my bride’s,
With orange-blossoms, wreathed besides
Her tresses in!

10.

And by her bower,
I’ll plant the falling eardrop’s grace,
Whose lady-blossoms hide their face
From sun and shower.

11.

And she shall set
The lily near, to favour me,
And myrtles, and sad rosemary
And mignonette.

12.

And I will plant
One flower beside—and say to her,
I’ve nursed it for my monitor;
This thou shalt grant;

13.

In life’s last hour,
To tell me of the Crucified,
Oh set alone my couch beside
The passion-flower.

14.

And on my tomb,
Plant deathless amaranth, for I
Would rise in immortality,
And endless bloom.

* * * * *

STAR THAT HAST.

Hymn to the North Star.

I. 1.

Star that hast thy bright abode
In the skies for ever,
Like the sleepless eye of God
Never resting—never
Star of glory—holy star,
Chiming in thy sphere
Glorious creature, from afar
If thou hearest—hear!

I. 2.

Deem not I upon thee call
As to God I bow;
I before thy Maker fall;
I am more than thou!
But I’ve pleasant words for thee!
And my heart is flowing;
Dear is thy sweet light to me,
And I love its glowing!

II. 1.

I, with wonder in my soul,
See thy ray in heaven,
Thinking, thus while ages roll,
Still thy light is given.
Would I might my story give
Deathless star, to thee!
Then, as long as earth shall live,
Men would think on me.

II. 2.

Stars of earth on thee have gazed,
Ever-glorious flame!
They have burned away and blazed,
Thou art still the same!
Thou art ever bright as now,
Far above all sorrow;
Born for endless ages thou!
I must die to-morrow!

III. 1.

Nay, thou ever-watching star,
Of the heavenly portal,
Long as thy dull ages are,
I am more immortal!
’Twas for this I called thy name,
Star that dwell’st so high,
For the skies shall melt in flame,
Even thou shalt die!

III. 2.

Thou shalt perish!—I endure
When thy lamp is dim,
Dark thy place in ether pure,
Hush’d thy sphery hymn!
Thou shalt fade: and ne’er be found,
Never more, oh, never:
I shall live a deathless round,
Ever—and for ever.

* * * * *

STANZAS.

1.

She shone upon the bright saloon
Mid mirth and music’s sound,
Like moonlight, on the glimmering
Of tapers dim around,
And where she walked, ’twas wonderful
How all our hearts she bowed,
And how she tamed the manliest,
And how she awed the proud.

2.

Some shapes there are, though dear and rare,
By grudging Nature given,
To teach us here, how beautiful
The angels are in heaven;
And such was she, the queen of all,
The fairest of the fair,
The lady of the gentle heart,
And soul-subduing air.

* * * * *

CANZONET.

1.

My heart is like the twilight sky
For there thou shin’st, its only star;
And giv’st me all the radiancy
That others worship from afar!

2.

Oh may this twilight be as those
That linger o’er the arctic air,
Where one mild star, as fable shews,
Goes round and round, but sets not there.

3.

For I have known no cheerful day,
Till soft this twilight calm was given;
Star of my heart—sink ne’er away,
Nor seek too soon thy further Heaven!

* * * * *

THOU ART GONE TO THE LAND.

1.

Thou art gone to the land of thy bloom and thy birth,
Thou fairest of beings that die:
We knew that thy spirit was purer than earth,
We knew that thy home was on high;
But we loved thee too well not to weep at thy flight,
And we said it was hard thou shouldst go:
There are angels enough in the regions of light,
But whom hast thou left us below?

2.

Ah! well did we fear thou wast budding for Heaven,
Though nurst in a climate so cold,
And marked as a warning too faithfully given,
The wings of thy spirit unfold:
And rainbow on rainbow thy pinions displayed,
And thy gaze was, in love, on the sky,
And we said, ’tis an angel a moment delayed,
But plumed, and just ready to fly.

3.

Thou art gone to the land of thy bloom and thy birth,
Though here was thy glory begun:
Ah! why hast thou left us a desolate earth,
Ere half of thy journey was done?
Ah! why was thy spirit so eager to fly,
And lose the dear shape that it wore?
Thou hast left to the grave, what was worthy the sky,
For scarce could an angel be more!

* * * * *

SONG.

Written for a Swiss Air.

1.

Weep for the lovely, that are fled,
With years their smiles made bright;
The lovely that are vanished,
Like unreturning light;
Like Stars that set and leave no ray,
Like Summer’s bloom forgot,
From Earth their glory died away,
But Earth remembers not.

2.

How still they slumber ’neath the turf,
The faded spoil of grief;
The sore-tossed pearls of Ocean’s surf,
The forest’s withered leaf!
Remembered—as a fancy fled,
Or as a vanished sound,
Where once their light a lustre shed
On meaner things around!

3.

Weep for the lovely, sent to bless
The world’s unlovely clime,
And oft, in all their loveliness
To fade before their time;
Made often in their guileless years
Some soulless mortal’s prey,
To feel the waste of secret tears,
And all the heart’s decay!

* * * * *

CANZONET.

1.

Love like theirs was never lighted,
With a season to be blighted;
It was deeper than emotion,
Deep as their deep souls’ devotion,
Fixed in their fond hearts forever,
Like the soul—to perish never.

2.

They were friends in that sweet season,
When the heart is foe to Reason:
Loving fondly, loving kindly,
Blind to fate—yet loving blindly;
Happy in the passing minute;
Naught the next, though Death were in it.

3.

They were friends whom fortune parted,
Severing sad and broken hearted:
God’s own law their trothal hind’red,
For their souls were near a-kindred;
Lovers not—twin-children rather
Of the same all-glorious Father.

4.

Worlds there are, above all sorrow,
And that world is theirs to-morrow:
There where love is brighter, purer,
Shall their friendship be the surer;
And when dreary life is over,
Each shall be the happier lover.

* * * * *

CAUTION.

1.

Break not tryste with tender hearts,
They ask not oaths for trust;
A look—a smile—to them imparts
What—answered with a tear that starts,
Is sealed, if thou art just!

2.

Learn this lesson, not too late;
’Twill save some gentle eye,
That often at her garden gate,
Strains sight and ear to watch and wait,
And droops—she tells not why.

* * * * *

OH WHERE’S THE HOPE.

1.

Oh where’s the hope like morning’s star, that lit my childhood’s
hours,
And smiled upon my dawn of life like sunrise over flowers!
’Tis gone, alas—or faintly seen, is as a rainbow’s ray,
Far—far afield! and as I chase, the phantom flies away.

2.

Sure never have I been too young to sigh o’er vanished hopes;
As if life’s wishes all were made, before an eyelid opes!
Sure never came an hour to me, that brought not in its train,
Some blight to fair and fond desire, and longings nursed in vain.

3.

They dream who tell of life’s long hours, its brightest is its first,
When o’er the sparkling dews of youth, the hues of morning burst;
Those morning hues dispel the mists that made its flowers so gay,
And boyhood’s joys are only bright, as they are borne away.

4.

And all the hopes those dews inspired, like dews dissolve in air,
And melt in fickle forms away, and leave unveiled the glare:
And childhood mourns like hoary Eld a thousand pleasures gone,
And weeps o’er disappointed hours, while yet ’tis early dawn!

5.

Oh can it be that we have lived, before we wept on earth,
And measured out our spirit’s path, before our body’s birth!
Howe’er it be—the babe new-born, begins its life with tears,
And age that weeps o’er childhood gone, but mimics childhood’s years.

* * * * *

CANZONET.

To the Music of Von Weber’s last Waltz.

1.

I’d die mid soft music,
And whispering the lay,
I’d breathe in sweet singing
My spirit away.
Bend o’er me, though weeping,
Thou beautiful one
With thy long flowing tresses
Till sinks my life’s sun:
Then round me, ye lovely,
Sigh sad to the lute,
And warble your sorrow
While breathes the soft flute.
I’d die, &c.

2.

I’ve lived mid the lovely,
And dying, I’d hear
The voice of the lovely
Sound last on mine ear.
In life, and in blooming
I’ve loved the soft lyre,
And music shall soothe me
Till faint I expire.
Till Earth’s music failing
I join as I rise,
The far fading echoes
That float from the skies.
I’d die, &c.

* * * * *

I’VE LEFT THE GIDDY THRONG.

1.

I’ve left the giddy throng:
The dance is o’er: mine ear
Hears but a phantom song,
And I am lonely here.
Oh, in the dark still night
When shadows round us be,
How vain all earth’s delight!
Whom have I, Lord, but thee?

2.

It is a fearful thing
To be with self alone;
To bear a closeting,
With conscience on her throne:
For who but feels, when still
The heavy night hangs round,
The boding dews that chill
The sleepers under ground!

3.

Oh, who but thinks how soon
Such sleep his own must be;
The cold damp sod aboon,
And earth-worms feasting free:
Oh, who but feels full oft
His body rotting there,
His robes of beauty doffed,
The winding-sheet, his wear!

4.

And who but trembles then,
At what we dare to be,
When mixt with thoughtless men,
We too live thoughtlessly!
Poor pilgrims unto death,
Poor insects of a day,
How dare we spend our breath
As if we lived for aye.

* * * * *

MARCH.

Man goeth to his long home.

WORDS TO STRANGE MUSIC.

1.

March—march—march!
Making sounds as they tread,
Ho-ho! how they step,
Going down to the dead!
Every stride, every tramp,
Every footfall is nearer;
And dimmer each lamp,
As darkness grows drearer:
But ho! how they march,
Making sounds as they tread;
Ho-ho! how they step,
Going down to the dead!

2.

March—march—march!
Making sounds as they tread,
Ho-ho, how they laugh,
Going down to the dead!
How they whirl—how they trip,
How they smile, how they dally,
How blithesome they skip,
Going down to the valley;
Oh ho, how they march,
Making sounds as they tread;
Ho-ho, how they skip,
Going down to the dead!

3.

March—march—march!
Earth groans as they tread!
Each carries a skull;
Going down to the dead!
Every stride—every stamp,
Every footfall is bolder;
’Tis a skeleton’s tramp,
With a skull on his shoulder;
But ho, how he steps
With a high tossing head,
That clay-covered bone,
Going down to the dead!

* * * * *

LAKE BYROM,

In the County of Westchester, N. Y.

1.

By thy still waters, lonely Lake,
The wild-dove builds her hermit home,
And there her matin-song doth make,
Where mornings all like Sabbaths come:
O’er thee she flits with silent wing,
Or lulls thee with its silken sound,
Thee—sleeping like a holy thing,
And hid from all the world around.

2.

No voice along thy leafy shore,
But nature’s hymns are rising there,
Nor oft the echo-waking oar
Disturbs thy breast, and haunted air!
A fane upon thy water side
With lights ablaze in every cell,
How bright ’twould seem at even tide,
How soft be heard its Vesper Bell!

3.

By thy still waters, lonely Lake,
I too could build a hermit home,
Where mornings all like Sabbaths break,
And Earth’s alarm can never come;
And there, this bosom, Heavenly Dove,
A cell for thy repose might be,
Forsaking all for worlds above,
And all the world forsaking me.

* * * * *

STANZAS.

Quæ nunc abibis in loca.

1.

When first the soul’s dark chains unbind,
And bursts from clay the prison’d mind,
What thoughts—what visions on it press,
Floating through ether—bodiless,
And borne away in calmest air,
Or falling, falling to despair,
What are its thoughts to find it there!

2.

Oh, when the struggling gasp is o’er,
And Earth hath naught to charm it more,
And it is free, and fixt its fate,
Flitting through space—all desolate,
With none its wilderment to share,
In silence borne—it knows not where,
What are its thoughts to find it there!

3.

Oh rising, when it first doth hear
Heaven’s far-off music drawing near,
And gazeth now on heavenly light,
That brighter grows, and still more bright;
Oh, when it gains that purer air,
And first beholds those regions fair,
What are its thoughts to find it there!

4.

Or sinking, sinking, when more near
Deep groans assail its spirit ear,
And Earth is gone—its little day
Pass’d as a slighted dream away;
When round it frowns at length the glare,
The glimmering darkness of despair,
What are its thoughts to find it there!

* * * * *

LAMENT.

The years draw nigh when thou shalt say,
I have no pleasure. _Eccles._

1.

Years are coming hither
When this heart so gay,
Much I fear will wither!
Youth is gone away.
Men are brothers—brothers!
Oh! I tremble then,
Lest I grow as others
Of my fellow-men.

2.

Those of whims and wrinkles,
Once were blithe as I;
Heads that frost besprinkles,
Once look’d bonnily;
And where winter lingers
Upon the old man’s curls,
Have play’d the taper fingers
Of well-beloved girls.

3.

Oh, must the years come on me
When these are no delight!
Must frost-work fall upon me,
And deadliness and blight;
This heart that loves the summer,
Be chilly as the cold;
And I be dim, and dumber
Than the mummies of the Old!

4.

And am I surely growing
In soul and senses seal’d,
Like him who, all unknowing,
Is frozen and congeal’d!
I know it—ah, I know it;
Of all the world ’tis true;
And the fibres of the poet
Must break—or toughen too.

5.

Thank God with all my spirit
For my only, only cheer,
Since I learn’d that I inherit
A destiny so drear.
But now I care not for it,
And welcome is the grave;
Oh why should I abhor it,
Since only it can save!

6.

I’ve seen a worm that weaveth
His shroud as with delight;
Then sleeps, as who believeth,
He only bids good night.
Then up again he springeth,
A wing’d and elfin form;
Away, away he wingeth,
An angel from a worm!

7.

Wise worm! and I, his brother,
Will learn from him to live!
A lesson that no other
So beautiful can give.
Oh, weave in life thy swathing,
And then in Christ repose!
Who maketh life a plaything
Is born to many woes.

* * * * *

THE ZENAIDA DOVE.

1.

When the wounded buccaneer
Moors alone, his pirate prore,
Seeking, in his flight of fear,
Alabama’s woody shore,
Oft reclined at heat of day,
In the green palmetto grove,
Sad, he lists the roundelay
Of the sweet Zenaida Dove.

2.

He is far from kin and kind,
He has seen his comrades die;
Now the bold and dark of mind,
Is as dim and dark of eye.
She is singing, in her home,
Innocent and soft as love;
Ne’er a wish or wing to roam
Hath the sweet Zenaida Dove.

3.

Then, as soft the carol pours,
Will he turn his languid eye
Round the cypress-shaded shores,
Feeling it is hard to die.
Tears, as gentle as a child,
Pay the minstrelsy above,
And the pirate’s heart grows mild,
Listening the Zenaida Dove.

4.

Lady, when mine erring heart
Made my dark and gloomy brow,
We had been for years apart,
Guilty I—but holy thou.
But—by chance, we met agen,
Thou all innocence and love!
I beheld abash’d—and then
Thou wast my Zenaida Dove.

5.

Youth was fever in my blood,
And a frenzy in mine eye:
Thou hadst bloomed to maidenhood,
Guileless all as infancy:
Dear thy voice, as childhood seemed,
And thine eye was mild as love,
With a soft rebuke it beamed:
Thou wast my Zenaida Dove.

* * * * *

REMEMBER.

Eccles. xii.

1.

Remember thy Creator now
When youth and years are bright,
Ere evil days draw nigh, when thou
Shalt find them no delight:
Now, when the moon and stars above
Are pleasant things to see;
Now, when thy days are soft as love,
And all is joy and glee.

2.

The voice of song and mirth must cease,
And Music’s daughters die;
The bird’s sweet voice be hushed to peace,
And earth’s best beauty fly;
And almond buds shall blossom white,
Where now thy locks are dark,
To dim thy young eye’s sapphire light,
Or hyacinthine spark.

3.

Or ever then the silver cord
Shall loose the golden bowl,
Remember thy Creator Lord
With overflowing soul:
For dust to dust must mingle then,
And Earth its earth shall claim,
And thy free spirit flit again
To God, from whom it came.

* * * * *

CHRISTMAS.

Written in 1830.

1.

Hark, through the skies the glad anthem is ringing,
The glory effulgent of heaven is shown;
Angels of light the loud chorus are singing,
Jehovah’s dear son the Messiah, to own.

2.

Lo, the rude Shepherds their flocks while attending,
And wearied of watching, are startled with fright;
For see a bright angel—in clouds is descending,
While darkness gives place to a heavenly light!

3.

And hearken the message—good tidings I bring!
The Saviour long promised in Juda, is born;
Oh hasten to greet him, and worship your king,
Ere burst o’er the mountains, the beams of the morn.

4.

And sudden, all heaven with melody fired,
In rapt adoration the chorus prolong:
And cherub, and seraph with rapture inspired,
The glad allelluia attune in their song:

5.

To God in the Highest all glory be given;
And peace be to men of good-will upon earth,
For down his Redeemer is stooping from heaven,
Rejoice all ye lands—’tis the morn of his birth.

* * * * *

OH WOULD I WERE HAPPY.

1833.

1.

Oh would I were happy! If wealth can but buy
The favour of heaven, and peace from on high,
My riches I’ll give to the helpless and poor,
And load him with kindness, that begs at my door;
The widow and orphan my bounty shall share,
And all the afflicted partake of my care.

2.

Oh would I were happy! the sorrows and cares,
Which each new-born hour to my troubled heart bears,
Disgust me with all the gay pleasures of earth,
And weary me with its vain-glory and mirth;
If penance can wash out my guiltiness deep,
In sackcloth and ashes my crimes I will weep.

3.

But hearken! what voice is it falls on mine ear!
How gracious the message, the tidings how dear;
’Tis the voice of the Saviour that promiseth rest,
To the children of sorrow in mercy addrest,
Oh hear and be happy, yes happy in truth,
’Twill solace thine age, and ’twill strengthen thy youth.

4.

Oh come to the waters! come taste of the wave,
The waters of life, ever potent to save!
Who drinks of this fountain, shall thirst never more:
It springeth within, till his journey is o’er;
Ho! each one that thirsteth; the lofty, the low,
Come all to the fount I have bidden to flow.

5.

Oh these are the tidings so sweet to mine ear;
My sorrows are vanished, my spirit is clear!
Mine alms are worth little; my labour is vain,
My penance, unable this peace to obtain;
The treasures of Ophir, too poor a reward,
To purchase this peace—’tis the gift of the Lord.

* * * * *

THE MIRAGE.

1833.

1.

Oft in the desert dreary
A stream, the pilgrim spies,
And joyous then, though weary,
He speedeth to the prize:
But onward as he goeth,
The stream, the shining stream
Is vanish’d, and he knoweth
’Twas but an idle dream.

2.

So pleasure, bright appearing,
Oft tempts frail man astray:
And off, with joy careering,
He runs his giddy way:
But ah too soon perceiveth,
How false she is, and vain:
Her painted face deceiveth,
And cheats us into pain.

3.

Oh pleasure! What is pleasure!
A phantom of the mind;
We seize it as a treasure,
’Tis emptiness we find:
The heart for pleasure sigheth,
But who hath pleasure known!
Ere it is born, it dieth;
Ere it is caught—’tis flown!

* * * * *

MEDITATION.

1833.

1.

When evening from the starry skies,
Its blessed dews doth send,
And all the landscape stilly lies,
Calm contemplation’s friend:
Oh, then when moonlight beams are shed,
And gales so quiet blow,
And when from heaven’s fountain-head
Such varied mercies flow;

2.

Dear Saviour, bending at thy throne,
’Tis then my prayer I pour,
’Tis then my sorrows all I own,
And weep while I adore:
’Tis then I know the starry skies
Will listen to my prayer,
Accept my spirit’s sacrifice,
And charm away despair.

* * * * *

LINES.

1833.

1.

As o’er the desert’s scorching sands
The Arah pilgrim strays,
And pants for green Idume’s lands,
Beneath the sultry rays:

2.

As he her spicy hills desires,
With flocks, and fruitage graced,
And onward hastens through the fires
That parch the dreary waste;

3.

So, pilgrim through Earth’s desert wild,
As fainting, and o’erspent,
Thou too art travelling, and exiled,
And in the noontide bent.

4.

Oh think not of the dismal earth,
But stretch thy longing eyes,
To hills, and homes of holy mirth,
That in the distance rise.

5.

Then take fresh courage to thy soul,
And onward speed thy way;
For there the living waters roll,
And there is endless day!

* * * * *

HYMN.

1834.

1.

Soldier, to the contest pressing,
Onward, let thy watchword be;
God upon thee pours his blessing;
What though man derideth thee!

2.

Onward, though the faggot’s burning,
By thy pathway’s only light:
Onward, death and danger spurning:
Onward in the path of right!

3.

God, for all thy wants providing,
Armor trusty hath for thee;
Gird thyself, in him confiding,
With the goodly panoply:

4.

Righteousness thy breast defending,
And thy feet with justice shod:
Onward; with the foe contending,
Wield thy sword, the word of God.

5.

Thine the helmet of salvation,
Faith thy mighty shield shall be;
And let prayer and supplication,
Lance, and glorious faulchion be:

6.

Still the standard o’er thee streaming
Be the banner pure, of love,
Where in glorious blazon beaming,
Float thy pinions, Holy Dove!

7.

Onward then, with bold contending,
In the path the martyrs trod:
God to thee his strength is lending;
Onward, in the strength of God.

* * * * *

HYMN.

1.

Oh, shine, my Redeemer,
My light o’er my way!
For faint is the pilgrim,
And lone, and astray.
No ray o’er the desert,
No light from afar,
Shine forth in thy glory,
Bright Bethlehem’s Star!

2.

Long blazed the fierce sunlight,
And toiling I went;
Now night falleth chilling,
My courage is spent:
These shadows of darkness,
How fearful they are!
Shine forth in thy glory,
Bright Bethlehem’s Star!

3.

’Tis said—and the midnight
Is breaking away:
See, soft through the shadows,
Pours mercy’s mild ray!
Now smileth the pilgrim
To greet thee from far;
All hail to thy glory,
Bright Bethlehem’s Star!

* * * * *

HOME MUSIC.

1.

Let Music lull thee, spirit mine,
And songs and harmonies divine,
When thou art sore distrest!
The viol and the tabret bring,
With lute and lyre of magic string
That charm the soul to rest,
And harps whose holy carolling
Becalms the breast.

2.

And let some angel shape be near,
With dewy lip, and voice as dear,
All loveliness and soul,
To wake the chords, and shed along
The joy of bosom-heaving song,
And music’s rippling roll;
While warbling their enchantment strong,
Soft flutes condole.

3.

Let music lull thee, spirit mine,
Sweet music, and the dear eyes shine,
Of gentle ones we love!
From Eden, when poor Eve was driven,
Sweet music by our God was given
With her the world to rove,
And lure her children back to Heaven,
Her home above!

* * * * *

TO ALL THAT’S GLORIOUS AND BRIGHT.

He hath made everything beautiful
in his time. _Eccles._ iii. 11.

1.

To all that’s glorious and bright
The poet vows his shell;
To youth, and beauty’s fair delight,
And fancy’s warmer spell:
The world of loveliness is his,
And his the summer’s bloom,
And his the wildwood’s harmonies,
And birds of faery plume.

2.

These lovely things, like him, must die!
They vanish while he sings;
And what has pleased the poet’s eye,
Must grieve his pensive strings.
And ever was his song—a tear,
A sigh for beauty fled:
And harps that woke to charm and cheer,
Must soon lament the dead!

3.

I’ve seen the loveliness I loved,
Like frailest flowers decay:
And while the Spring’s young joys I proved,
My spring-time passed away.
And boyhood’s mirth is but a name,
Ere boyhood’s tears are dried,
And hopes in golden hues that came,
Like golden dreams have died.

4.

And false thy promise, empty Earth,
I trust thy show no more;
I’ve learned of my immortal birth,
And spurn this stranger shore;
And Heaven, my home, my haven bright,
To Heaven be vowed my shell;
My soul to its inspiring light,
And fancy’s hallowed spell.

* * * * *

THERE IS A LAND.

And I said, O that I had wings like
a dove, then would I fly away and
be at rest! _Psalter._

1.

There is a land, like Eden fair,
But more than Eden blest;
The wicked cease from troubling there,
The weary are at rest.

2.

There is a land of calmest shore,
Where ceaseless summers smile,
And winds, like angel whispers, pour
Across the shining isle.

3.

There is a land of purest mirth,
Where healing waters glide;
And there the wearied child of Earth
Untroubled may abide.

4.

There is a land, where Sorrow’s sons,
Like ocean’s wrecks, are tossed;
But there revive those weeping ones,
And Life’s dull sea is crossed!

5.

There is a land, where small and great
Before the Lord appear,
The spoils of fortune, and of fate,
Whom Heaven alone can cheer.

6.

There is a land, where star-like shine
The pearls of Christ’s renown:
And gems, long buried in the mine,
Are jewels in his crown.

7.

There is a land, like Eden fair,
But more than Eden blest;
Oh! for a wing to waft me there,
To fly, and be at rest!

* * * * *

THE HEART’S SONG.

Behold I stand at the door.

1.

In the silent midnight watches,
List thy bosom-door;
How it knocketh—knocketh—knocketh,
Knocketh evermore!
Say not ’tis thy pulse’s beating,
’Tis thy heart of sin;
’Tis thy Saviour stands entreating,
Rise and let me in.

2.

Death comes down with equal footstep
To the hall and hut;
Think you Death will stand a-knocking
Where the door is shut!
Jesus waiteth—waiteth—waiteth;
But thy door is fast:
Griev’d, at length away he turneth;
Death breaks in at last!

3.

Then ’tis thine to stand entreating
Christ to let thee in;
At the door of Heaven beating,
Wailing for thy sin.
Nay, alas, thou foolish virgin,
Hast thou then forgot,
Jesus waited long to know thee,
But—he knows thee not!

* * * * *

LAMENT.

From the Latin of Mary Queen of Scots.

1.

Oh blessed, my Jesu,
I’ve trusted in thee;
Oh Saviour, my Jesu,
Now liberate me.
In horrible prison
And gloom have arisen,
My sighs, oh my Jesu, incessant to thee;
But, oh on my sorrow,
Has brightened no morrow,
Yet hear me, my Jesu, and liberate me.

2.

Oh blessed, my Jesu,
I’ve trusted in thee,
And still will I trust thee,
To liberate me.
And so, while I languish,
I cry in my anguish,
Adoring, imploring and bending the knee;
In sorrow and tremor,
Oh blessed Redeemer,
Smile on me from Heaven, and liberate me!

* * * * *

IN RADIANCE HE CAME.

And when Aaron and all the children of Israel
saw Moses, behold the skin of his face shone;
and they were afraid. _Exod._ xxxiv. 30.

1.

In radiance he came from the mount where he bowed,
To talk with the Lord in the veil of the cloud;
And light flashed before him, as trembling he trod,
From the mountain that quaked at the coming of God.

2.

’Twas Israel’s Prophet—oh breathe not his name,
Who talked with the Lord till his visage was flame;
Whose brow with the smile of Jehovah did glow,
And shone with the blaze of his glory below!

3.

Oh, bright as the mercy-seat dazzling afar,
He rose on the night of the vale like a star,
And dread was the sight to the recreant’s mirth,
Who praised his grim idol, while God was on earth.

4.

Then flew the swift shudder electric, of fear,
And stole the breath-whisper of guilt on the ear,
And the dancer was dumb at his orgies abhorr’d
And the renegade priest knew the friend of the Lord.

5.

And the virgins of Judah are lightsome of limb,
As they whirl round the Calf to a love-breathing hymn;
And the damsel’s swift heel hath a language that speaks,
And the hue of her heart flushes warm on her cheeks.

6.

A moment—and mute as the startled gazelle,
All wild is her eye—the dark eye of her spell!
And breaks the frail ring o’er the dance beaten sod,
Like flowers dropping pale from their garlanded god.

7.

So dazzling the beauty of holiness bright!
The glory of goodness—the wonderful light!
So, Lord, would I shine from my converse above,
So shed on the nations the light of thy love.

8.

And so from the mountains, the height of my prayer,
Where dwelling with thee, it was good to be there,
Grant, Lord, I may stoop to the valleys below,
With visage all radiant, and features that glow.

* * * * *

LAMENT OF THE VIRGINS.

And it was a custom in Israel, that the
daughters of Israel went yearly to lament
the daughter of Jephtha, the Gileadite,
four days in a year. _Judges_, xi. 40.

1.

Oh, of dance and song the pride,
Jephtha’s daughter, young and fair,
Never now the wreath of bride,
Ne’er the bridal veil shall wear!
Ne’er with cymbals light advancing,
Shall she greet her true love home,
Never in the valleys dancing,
Bound like Ocean’s purest foam.
Never shall she whisper—never,
Vows that bind the Hebrew maid;
Hers from all the world to sever,
Hers the hermit cell and shade.

2.

Oh, of song and dance the pride,
Jephtha’s daughter, young and fair;
She should be a hero’s bride,
She a hero son should bear.
But her fortune is another,
She shall ne’er love’s worship know;
Ne’er a babe shall call her mother,
Nestled on her breast of snow;
She hath gone from spring and fountain;
She hath vanished from the rills;
Lone she wanders on the mountain,
And her home is on the hills.

3.

Oh, of dance and song the pride,
Jephtha’s daughter, young and fair,
In the mount she must abide,
And her virgin vestments wear.
There her foot that bounded lightly,
Faint with maiden step shall go;
And her dance that was so sprightly,
To a pensive gliding grow.
She shall bend ’mid caverns praying,
Like a flower that trembles there,
While anear the wild fox baying,
Breaks alone the silent air.

4.

Oh, of song and dance the pride,
Jephtha’s daughter, young and fair;
Angels with her shall abide,
Angels smile upon her prayer.
Angels there shall be her lovers,
In such love as angels use;
While each wing that o’er her hovers,
Sheds around celestial dews;
Angels there, that cheer her sighing,
Shall her loneliness beguile,
And the wings that shade her dying,
Waft her to the happy isle.

5.

Oh, of dance and song the pride,
Jephtha’s daughter, young and fair;
Weep for her that doth abide
On the lonely mountain there.
Many flowers like her have perished
E’er their scented buds could ope;
But no flower was e’er so cherished,
Ne’er like her a hero’s hope.
Many maids have gone to slaughter,
But they ne’er so lovely were:
Weep, oh weep for Jephtha’s daughter,
Weep ye lovely, weep for her.

* * * * *

THE LAST PLAGUE OF EGYPT.

1.

Deep night o’er thy waters, thou dark-rolling Nile,
And the Hebrew sleeps trembling, his lord with a smile,
For a voice comes in dreams to the children of God:
But the proud have no whisper that Death is abroad!

2.

So, nestled in rocks, when the whirlwind is nigh,
They hear its far coming—the birds of the sky!
While trees it must shiver in leaf and in form,
Are hush as the stillness that heralds the storm.

3.

And the Memphian, at midnight, lay smiling and pleased,
His sin all unshriven, his God unappeas’d,
Till o’er his dark slumbers chill shadows were curl’d,
And the soul of the dreamer was far from the world.

4.

And he lay in the coils of the death-spirit, mute,
With a seal on his lips, like the blast in the fruit:
And he seem’d as when hoar-frost hath stiffen’d the flower;
’Twas the blight of the Lord, ’twas the touch of his power.

5.

But still was the starlight—while, shrouded and hid,
Death brooded o’er palace, and cold pyramid;
No voice on the midnight; no larum of wrath;
No sound of the whirlwind—but only its path.

6.

And a cry was in Egypt, when rose the red morn,
For a thousand pale mothers bewail’d their first born;
And Memnon’s sweet music that greeted the Sun,
Was lost in the moan of a nation undone.

7.

And shriek’d the young wife o’er the child of her pain,
That never should breathe on her bosom again;
And breasts that were warm with their nursling before,
But heaved, in their grief, for the boy that she bore.

8.

And the bride shrunk aghast, like the death-stricken dove,
When she woke in the cold frozen clasp of her love:
And a groan for the noble, the lovely outpour’d,
A wail for the battle they waged with the Lord.

9.

And they seem’d like the willows, that, left on the steep,
Are bent o’er the wreck of the forest to weep,
Or lilies that dripping, and drooping of form,
Shed tears o’er the broken, the spoil of the storm.

10.

Ye join not the wailing, ye dwellers of Zan!
Hath the death-angel spared ye, that smote as he ran?
Oh, the blood-sprinkled lintel hath stayed his proud reign,
And watched at your threshhold the Lamb that was slain.

* * * * *

HYMN TO THE REDEEMER.

1.

When o’er Judea’s vales and hills,
Or by her olive-shaded rills,
Thy weary footsteps went of old,
Or walked the lulling waters bold,
How beauteous were the marks divine,
That in thy meekness used to shine,
That lit thy lonely pathway, trod
In wondrous love, O Lamb of God!

2.

Oh! who like thee, so calm, so bright,
Thou Holy child, Thou Light of Light,
Oh! who like thee, did ever go
So patient, through a world of wo,
Oh! who like thee, so humbly bore
The scorn, the scoffs of men before,
So meek, so lovely—yet so high,
So glorious in humility!

3.

The morning saw thee, like the day,
Forth on thy light-bestowing way;
And evening in her holy hues,
Shed down her sweet baptismal dews,
Where bending angels stoop’d to see,
The lisping infant clasp thy knee,
And smile, as in a father’s eye,
Upon thy mild Divinity!

4.

The hours when princes sought their rest
Beheld thee, still, no chamber’s guest;
But when the chilly night hung round,
And man from thee, sweet slumber found,
Thy wearied footsteps sought, alone,
The mountain to thy sorrows known,
And darkness heard thy patient prayer,
Or hid thee, in the prowler’s lair.

5.

And all thy life’s unchanging years,
A man of sorrows, and of tears,
The cross, where all our sins were laid,
Upon thy bending shoulders weigh’d;
And death, that sets the pris’ner free,
Was pang, and scoff, and scorn to thee;
Yet love through all thy torture glow’d,
And mercy with thy life-blood flow’d.

6.

O wondrous Lord! my soul would be
Still more and more conform’d to thee,
Would lose the pride, the taint of sin,
That burns these fever’d veins within,
And learn of Thee, the lowly One,
And like thee, all my journey run,
Above the world, and all its mirth,
Yet weeping still with weeping earth.

7.

Oh! in thy light, be mine to go,
Illuming all my way of wo;
And give me ever, on the road,
To trace thy footsteps, O my God!
My passions lull, my spirit calm,
And make this lion-heart a lamb;
And give me, all my life, to be
A sacrifice to love and thee!

* * * * *

STANZAS.

When I awake up after Thy likeness I shall be satisfied.

1.

But who can tell what joys shall make
The peace, the bliss, the love of Heaven!
Lord in thy likeness let me wake
And rise in all thy light, forgiven!
Else darker than this dreary earth,
Our long undying years shall be,
And who shall bear his second birth
To worse than Time—Eternity!

2.

Lord, in thy likeness let me wake,
So shall my soul be satisfied,
When from the mouldering tomb I break,
And see in clouds, the Lamb that died;
As roamed the dove the deluge dark,
My spirit roams Life’s troubled sea,
But thou shalt be the wanderer’s ark,
That knows no rest, till home with Thee.

* * * * *

STANZAS.

They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength.

1.

Years cannot make their strength decay
Who lean upon the Lord,
Nor age fling shadows o’er the way
That’s lighted by his word:
Their path doth bright and brighter shine
Till perfect in the skies;
And life’s soft eve is no decline,
For heavenward still they rise.

2.

When winter’s might hath rent the oak,
Or summer blights its shoot,
The streams of God can heal the stroke
And sprout its deathless root:
And souls that have the fountain quaffed
Of Christ’s world-healing side,
Arise immortal from the draught,
And live through Him that died.

* * * * *

BUT THOU OH LORD.

My Father, thou art the guide of my youth.

1.

But Thou, oh Lord, shalt be my guide
Through all my dreary way,
And down the vale of death beside
Thy staff shall be my stay.
To thee alone I’ll lift mine eye
When snares have made me fall;
To Thee, when low in grief I lie,
From lowest deeps I’ll call.

2.

And oh, on Thee in every hour
Of sunshine or of shade,
The soul that feels thy varied power,
Shall call for varied aid;
So shalt thou lead me in the light
That round thy saints is cast,
O’er Jordan’s flood, to Zion’s height,
And home to Heaven at last.

* * * * *

VERSES.

He shall sit as a refiner.

1.

As o’er the flame that proves his gold,
The artist bends with careful mind,
Till mirror’d there, he may behold
His features in the ore refined;

2.

So oft doth God his children prove,
When burns the fierce refining flame,
Till glows the image of his love,
And in the heart, he reads his name.

* * * * *

STILL AS OUR DAY.

As thy days so shall thy strength be.

1.

Still as our days our strength shall be,
While still; good Lord, we trust in Thee;
While on Thy promise we depend,
Our Saviour, brother, father, friend,
Our great High Priest, to whom were known
Temptations, troubles, like our own,
Who can be touched with mortal care,
For Thou didst all our sorrows bear.

2.

Oh Lamb of God, the world on Thee,
Hath laid her deep infirmity;
And in the cross that weighed Thee down,
The bitter scourge, the thorny crown,
Thou all her griefs, and all her fears,
Didst bear through all thine earthly years,
The guiltless, for the guilty one,
For man, the Everlasting Son.

3.

Oh Saviour mine, how great the love,
That brought thee from thy throne above!
That love, what seraph’s lyre can tell,
That wondrous love, unspeakable!
So infinite, so all divine,
Unlike all other love but thine,
Like none but Jesu, none but Thee
Thou bleeding Lamb of Calvary!

4.

Give me, Thou glorious Lamb of God,
Daily to walk, where Thou hast trod,
And in adoring rapture grow,
As in thy lowly steps I go.
Give me to ponder, more and more,
Thy word’s, and thy example’s lore,
That walking here, my God with Thee,
Still as my days my strength may be.

* * * * *

THERE’S NOT A CLOUD.

Heaviness may endure for a night.

1.

There’s not a cloud that floats below
Can quench the Star of Day,
And vain the vapors earth can throw
To reach the heavenly ray;
And fast before the orient flame
The mists of morning flee;
And so our Father is the same,
Though dark our souls may be.

2.

And He will clear the deepest night
That clouds his children’s sky,
And bid the dullest tear be bright,
That dims the doubting eye.
On storms where yet the lightnings gleam
His rainbows often play,
And brighter is the moonlight’s beam
As tempest breaks away.

* * * * *

OH WALK WITH GOD.

And Enoch walked with God.

1.

Oh walk with God, and thou shalt find
How he can charm thy way,
And lead thee with a quiet mind
Into his perfect day.
His love shall cheer thee, like the dew
That bathes the drooping flower,
That love is every morning new,
Nor fails at evening’s hour.

2.

Oh walk with God, and thou with smiles
Shalt tread the way of tears,
His mercy every ill beguiles,
And softens all our fears.
No fire shall harm thee, if alas
Through fires He bid thee go;
Through waters, when thy footsteps pass,
They shall not overflow.

3.

Oh walk with God, while thou on earth,
With pilgrim steps must fare,
Content, to leave the world its mirth,
And claim no dwelling there.
A stranger, thou must seek a home,
Beyond the fearful tide,
And if to Canaan thou would’st come,
Oh who but God can guide!

4.

Oh walk with God, and thou shalt go
Down death’s dark vale in light,
And find thy faithful walk below
Hath reached to Zion’s height!
Oh walk with God, if thou would’st see
Thy pathway thither tend:
And lingering though thy journey be,
’Tis heaven and home at end!

* * * * *

THE LAND OF BEULAH.

1.

Oh native clime where’er afar
Thy promised glories shine,
Thou city of the Holy One,
Of Jesu’s friends and mine;
For thee my exile soul doth pant,
And from this far abode,
Would stretch the pinions of a dove,
And mount to meet its God.

2.

Oh there the weary wing shall rest
That cannot rest below,
And there its earth-stained plumage bathe,
Where living waters flow;
There shall the lips life’s fountain quaff,
That parch in deserts here,
And there these eyes the Lord behold,
And know no more a tear.

3.

Oh, happy home, oh native seat,
Thou only home for me,
Thou city where my portion is,
Where my true kindred be;
What joy within my bosom thrills,
That I shall soon be there,
Though last and least, yet one with them,
That crowns of glory wear!

* * * * *

HYMN IN HOLY WEEK.

1.

Who is this, with garments gory,
Triumphing from Bozrah’s way;
This, that weareth robes of glory,
Bright, with more than vict’ry’s ray;
Who is this unwearied comer,
From his journey’s sultry length,
Travelling through Idume’s summer,
In the greatness of his strength!

2.

Wherefore red in thine apparel,
Like the conquerors of Earth,
And arrayed like those who carol
O’er the reeking vineyard’s mirth;
Who art thou, the valleys seeking,
Where our peaceful harvests wave!
I—in righteous anger speaking,
I—the mighty One to save.

3.

I, that of the raging heathen
Trod the wine-press all alone,
Now in victor-garlands wreathen,
Coming to redeem my own:
I am He with sprinkled raiment
Glorious for my vengeance hour,
Ransoming with priceless payment,
And delivering with power.

4.

Hail, all hail thou Lord of Glory!
Thee our Father, thee we own!
Abram heard not of our story,
Israel ne’er our name hath known;
But, Redeemer, thou hast sought us,
Thou hast heard thy children’s wail,
Thou with thy dear blood, hast bought us,
Hail, thou mighty Victor, hail!

* * * * *

HYMN.

American Missions.

1.

Lord, when thou didst come from Heaven,
Edom sought thee, from afar,
With her gold and incense given,
By the leading of a star;
Westward then, from Eden guiding,
Was the light of Bethlehem shed;
Like the pillar’d blaze abiding
O’er the wandering Hebrew’s head.

2.

Westward still, the world alluring,
Hath the risen Day-Star beamed,
And, the sinking soul assuring,
O’er the world’s wide ocean streamed.
Westward still, the midnight breaking,
Westward still, its light be poured!
Heathen thy possession making,
Utmost lands thy dwelling, Lord!

3.

Westward, where from giant fountains,
Oregon comes down in flood,
Westward to Missouri’s mountains,
Or to wild Iowa’s wood:
Where the broad Arkansas goeth,
Winding o’er savannahs wide;
Where, beyond old Huron, floweth
Many a strong eternal tide.

4.

Westward, where the wavy prairie
Dark as slumbering ocean lies,
Let thy starlight, Son of Mary,
O’er the shadow’d billows rise!
There, be heard ye herald voices
Till the Lord his glory shows,
And the lonely place rejoices,
With the bloom of Sharon’s rose.

5.

Where the wilderness is lying,
And the trees of ages nod,
Westward, in the desert crying,
Make a highway for our God:
Westward—till the Church be kneeling
In the forest aisles so dim,
And the wildwood’s arches pealing,
With the people’s holy hymn!

6.

Westward, still, oh Lord, in glory
Be thy bannered cross unfurled,
Till from vale to mountain hoary,
Rolls the anthem round the world;
Reign, oh reign o’er every nation,
Reign, Redeemer, Father, King,
And with songs of thy salvation,
Let the wide creation ring!

* * * * *

MARINER’S HYMN.

Looking unto Jesus.

1.

Star of the Soul, my Saviour’s cross,
No cloud thy glorious light can hide;
Thou shin’st unshaken, while I toss
In darkest night, o’er billows wide;
I look to thee, I look to thee,
Whatever gulfs would overwhelm,
And thine unclouded presence see,
Above the storm, and o’er the helm.

2.

Star of the Soul, my Saviour’s cross,
That from the deep baptismal wave,
I saw arise, when all at loss
Repentance found naught else to save:
Oh seen by faith at such an hour,
My only hope, my only guide,
Star of the Soul, how blest the Power,
That set thee o’er life’s raging tide.

3.

Star of the Soul, in storms of fear
That in my heart their tumult keep,
Oh cross of Christ, thou still art near,
In mercy beaming o’er the deep;
Though sin its bitter waters toss,
Unbrightened by a hope beside,
Star of the Soul, my Saviour’s cross,
No cloud thy glorious light can hide.

* * * * *

LITTLE HYMN.

For the child of a dear friend.

1.

When the evergreens hung round,
And the Christmas bells did sound,
Saviour, then they told of thee,
Thou wast once a child like me:
Hear me then, my Saviour mild,
Hear, and love a little child.

2.

Since for me thou camest to die,
I, like thee to live, will try;
Thou for me didst poor become,
And a manger was thine home:
Oh for all thou didst endure,
Help me Lord, to love the poor.

3.

Smiling on the Virgin’s knee,
Brightly went the day with thee;
Peace and love were round thee shed,
And God’s angels watched thy bed;
So may I improve the light,
So be guarded safe by night.

4.

Help me too, like thee to grow
Dear to God, and man below!
And from childhood’s guileless heart,
Saviour, let me never part,
Since like children, all must be,
Who, at last, would live with thee!

* * * * *

THY GLORY, LORD.

Exod. xxxiii. 18.

1.