Chapter I: Part 1

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POEMS:
WITH
A SKETCH
OF THE
Life and Experience
OF
ANNIE R. SMITH.

BY
MRS. REBEKAH SMITH.

MANCHESTER, N. H.
JOHN B. CLARKE, PRINTER.
1871.

PREFACE.

A small volume of poems entitled, "Home Here and Home in Heaven," by Annie R. Smith, appeared shortly after her death, in 1855. Her numerous friends wishing some account of her life and last sickness, have from time to time desired me to prepare such a sketch for publication. I have also been requested to publish in connection therewith, a collection of my own poetical efforts. This is the immediate occasion of the appearance of the present volume, the publication of which, circumstances have conspired to delay till the present time. It lays no claim to literary merit, but professes to be only a description in rhyme of some of the ordinary experiences of life, and the common feelings of the heart. I have appended some additional pieces written by Annie R. Smith, and some by Uriah Smith, which I have desired to see published in this form. It is commended to the charitable consideration of friends, with the hope that its appearance may prove a gratification and a benefit to some.

Mrs. Rebekah Smith.

West Wilton, N. H.

POEMS.

Life's Conflict.

In the deep recess of the inmost heart,
Where Satan tempts and angels come to shield,
Are foes by which we would be overcome,
Were Christ not with us on the battle-field.

The tempter, seeking whom he may devour,
Would sift as wheat, and finally prevail;
But Jesus intercedes and prays for us,
That faith in these dread conflicts may not fail.

These calls unheeded, who the end can know?
The Spirit grieved and angels forced to leave,
The victims, though unconscious, hastening where
No pardoning love is found, and no reprieve.

If yet there's hope, one mighty effort make
To conquer, and the enemy defeat;
Watch unto prayer, in Jesus Christ abide,
And hasten to be made in him complete.

No true enjoyment here aside from this.
No other name on earth e'er to be given,
Through him we must be cleansed and purified,
Or closed to us will be the gates of Heaven.

Christian Love.

Jesus sees, he feels, he pities; he for us keen anguish knew,
He was numbered with transgressors; harmless, but his friends were few.
Those immersed in love's deep ocean, nothing will or can offend;
They will bow in sweet submission, knowing Heaven will them defend.

Let us then our suffering brother seek where'er his lot is cast;
Priests and Levites having seen him, on the other side have passed;
But of God he's not forsaken; He has known each bitter pang;
He has seen his tears and sorrows, and has known from whence they
sprang.

Jesus sees when best to succor, every wrong will bring to light;
He will have obedient children who in doing good delight,
Who will move in love and pity, bleeding wounds to soothe and bind,
Good Samaritans, who ever seek some path of love to find.

Courage new is then imparted, chilling words no more oppress;
Oh! for more true kindred spirits, who would make our sufferings less.
Lord forgive thine erring people; form them for thyself alone;
Then they'll bear each other's burdens, calling nought they have their
own.

Then each suffering child of sorrow would be watched with tender care,
Love and pity for the erring would be felt and witnessed there.
Strife and jealousy would vanish; love be felt that works no ill;
Peace, sweet peace, and joy and gladness, would each home and bosom
fill.

Love Not the World.

Love not the world, trust not its joys; uncertain is their stay;
Its treasures I've so highly prized, on wings have flown away.
Its riches I would not recall, their loss would not deplore;
Content I'll be if but my Lord salvation's joys restore.

Nature inclines us all to seek, a rich and grand career;
Undue attachment will but make our losses more severe.
Hardly we know how much we love our friends and things below,
Till called to see them one by one from our possession go.

How often then the stricken heart deplores no comfort left,
Forgetting we have blessings still, of which we're not bereft.
Let houses, lands and splendor go, surroundings all upset,
If home is where we've friends to love, and friends to love us yet.

With such a home, no matter where, how unadorned the place,
If but my Lord's, he'll visit there, and with his presence grace.
Thus consecrated to the Lord, his glory will be there.
How blest the place where oft is heard the voice of praise and prayer.

Be I but meet for such a place, where angels camp around,
Where truth and duty are proclaimed, and works of love abound.
The poor and friendless there resort and find their wants supplied,
No lack whose trust is in the Lord; for such he will provide.

There all of every name and race, in need of friendly aid,
Find equal welcome to the board where no distinction's made.
Thus treasures are laid up above, where endless life is given;
They who are rich in works of love, may hope for rest in Heaven.

Preparation for Heaven.

Our every sin must be confessed,
All guile be taken from the breast;
A holy life must we maintain,
If with the Saviour we would reign.

Be trimmed our lamps, our light appear,
Proclaim we Jesus draweth near;
That mercy's closing hour is nigh,
Will be the angel's last loud cry.

Now are we drawing near the port,
Decisions soon all made in court,
The scene will close, the Lord will come,--
And who with him will have a home?

To self we must be crucified,
Be purified, made white and tried,
Without one spot, and guileless be,
To stand before his Majesty.

Oh! be our sleeping powers awake;
Eternal bliss is now at stake;
One wrong unrighted, spot or stain,
Will bind in sin's destructive chain.

Haste then, from every error flee;
Strive till you gain the victory.
Triumph in Jesus' name alone,
And sit with him upon his throne.

This right with his own blood he bought;
Oh! bliss beyond all human thought,
Where ransomed throngs the Lord adore,
And sing free grace forevermore.

Submission.

The Saviour knows our every grief;
He knows the time to give relief:
When we are purified and tried,
And our whole wills are sanctified.

How to destroy our dross and tin,
And cleanse us from each stain of sin,
What to inflict, the Lord knows best;
'Tis only ours to stand the test.

What though we suffer grief and pain,
And earth's fair prospects strew the plain,
Let us submit, whate'er befall,
And make our God our all in all.

What though we're wrongfully accused,
Oft times e'en slanderously abused?
Say not these ills we cannot bear,
But in our Saviour's suffering share.

What he endured no tongue can tell,
When on Him our transgressions fell;
Meekly he bore them on the tree,
And paid the debt for you and me.

He purchased holiness and Heaven,
Or we could ne'er have been forgiven.
The Saviour's blood redemption cost,
Without which all our race was lost.

Shall we then sink beneath the rod,
Inflicted by a holy God
To purify and make us white,
That he may be our sole delight?

No; though it sharply smites, resign,
And pray for grace and love divine;
For all this, Heaven will make amends,
And ofttimes quick deliverance sends.

The Lord in him would have us free;
Through Him we gain the victory,
All he will be to us we need,
That we a holy life may lead.

Be holy. Oh! how blest to know,
Our Father helps to make us so;
'Tis but for us to yield our will,
His word and promise he'll fulfill.

No guilt or fear, no will, no choice;
In God alone we now rejoice,
And bless the hand that gave the blow,
And laid our earthly comforts low.

It Was True.

I loved th' enchanting viol's sound,
I loved the sprightly dance,
And all the dear, delightful scenes
Of nature's wild romance.

I know the fascinating charms,
In all their depth and hight,
Presumed on days and months and years
Of exquisite delight.

Though seventy-six, I feel I still
These halls of mirth could grace;
I left them when in youth[1] and sought
In Christ a hiding place.

But oh! the bitter cup I drank
That tamed my wild career;
Death struck my parents from my side
And drowned my joy in tears.

My dear loved home of childhood's years,
Where all was life and glee,
Became a house of mourning, and
Ere long no home for me.

I've since formed nearer, dearer ties,
And they too, have been riven.
By these repeated strokes I've learned
There's nothing true but Heaven.

My treasure's there, my heart is there,
The prize I mean to win;
But know the victory must be gained
O'er every darling sin.

And may refiner's fire go through
Till I am purified;
Till patience is perfected here,
And all my graces tried.

I'd bear the fiery trial now,
Till holy made and pure,
That I Christ's image may reflect,
And be in him secure.

A home in Heaven will then be mine,
A house not made with hands;
Where Jesus will his saints receive,
Who walk in his commands.

Be it mine to walk the narrow way,
Which my Redeemer trod,
And in the City have a place
Close by the throne of God.

There friends will meet to part no more,
Whose sins are here forgiven.
I would not rest until I know,
I have a home in Heaven.

[1]At eighteen.

No Resting Here.

No resting place! oh! sad, oppressive thought!
The overburdened heart opprest with grief,
Must bear its weight o'er sad reflection's tide,
Fearing at last the fate of unbelief.

Is there one here, without one beam of hope?
Oppressed, desponding, bordering on despair?
Still sinking 'neath gloom's dark and heavy cloud,
Not thinking e'er one cheering boon to share?

Lie still, e'en here, and search the hidden cause;
O'er every sin has victory been won?
Then trust in God o'er this dark, dreary way,
And say, Dear Lord, thy will, not mine, be done.

The broken heart, the humble, contrite one,
God will relieve from sin's dark, heavy load;
He will reveal himself a present help,
And make for us a sure and safe abode.

For such as these a resting place remains,
When earth's dark scenes and trials all are o'er;
A home in Heaven where saints and angels are
Chanting glad songs of glory evermore.

Deny Thyself.

The word we preach is nigh thee,
Is in thy mouth and heart,
To cease from every evil,
From every idol part.

The last decree, how solemn,
Except we conquer now,
No remedy can reach us,
Nor pay our broken vow.

While faithless, unrepentant,
We cannot be forgiven,
No mercy will be offered,
No home for us in Heaven.

As well give up to perish,
If we cannot deny
Our appetites and passions,
While Heavenly aid is nigh.

Soon there will be no promise
Of pardoning grace, now free.
Ere Jesus ceases pleading,
We must get victory.

Soon with no mediator
To help our ruined case,
The filthy must be filthy,
Beyond the reach of grace.

Baptism.

We fail not, when watching, our duty to know,
While Jesus makes out all our pathway below.
When he bids be buried with him 'neath the wave,
Let nought keep us back from the watery grave.

Go forward; these waters are ever the place,
Where Jesus is found with his presence to grace;
While angels make each of its subjects their care,
And the Spirit of God sheds its blessedness there.

Oh, blest institution! the Lord owns it still,
And moves on his people his word to fulfill;
In newness of life will he help to arise,
While they humbly press on toward the mark for the prize.

How heavenly the sight of an ordinance like this;
The pledge, it would seem, of perpetual bliss:
God honored below, while his people rejoice,
Making known to the world, they obey him from choice.

We'll follow the footsteps of Jesus, our King,
Till we the glad songs of deliverance sing.
We'll exalt him while here, we will love and adore,
And with the redeemed sound his praise evermore.

Despair of the Lost.

Of our strength we are shorn by indulgence in sin;
Where Jesus has reigned, now there's no room within;
A host of his murderers dwell in the heart;
Rejected, though grieved, he's obliged to depart.

As he goes who can know he will ever return?
That the blessing is lost we may soon have to learn,
With a wail of despair, a lamentable cry,
We may soon see ourselves forever passed by.

Too late! oh, too late! now my soul must be lost;
Though redemption was offered at infinite cost;
Though help has been laid on one mighty to save;
To self and the world I the preference gave.

Could the hope of salvation be given once more,
Would we not turn our backs on our Lord, as before?
Would not the same spirit still bear the same fruit?
And the Lord still to us our transgressions impute?

Oh! poor fallen man, rushing on to despair,
With high hopes all anchored in earth's fatal snare,
To be swept away soon, with the refuge of lies,
While the soul in deep anguish the second death dies.

Depart from Sin.

Could the deluded votaries
Of fashion and of song,
But see their danger, they would cry,
We've ventured here too long.

Yes, ventured o'er a precipice,
Held by a brittle thread,
While "fiery billows roll beneath"
The slippery paths we tread.

We've ventured to reject the call,
In love and pity given,
To flee sin's awful destiny,
And seek a home in Heaven.

Could tears prevail, could pity move,
You would not longer stand,
Exposed by every dashing wave
In yon broad gulf to land.

But tears and pity cannot save,
Nor for one sin atone,
Redemption's purchased with the blood
Of Jesus Christ alone.

The debt is paid; salvation's free,
Though Jesus' life it cost,
And all who come to him he'll save;
Then why should you be lost?

Oh! be entreated to forsake
The road that leads to hell,
And thus be fitted for the place
Where saints and angels dwell.

Old, but Young.

Infirmities of age have not
As yet made me their prey;
In social life I sometimes feel
As one still young and gay.

My spirits buoyant, hopeful, free,
No cloud to intervene,
Till I'm a wonder to myself,
And ask what this can mean.

Is there a dark and heavy cloud,
Now gathering out of sight,
To come o'er this my cheerful path,
And turn it into night?

Well, be it so; I'll now enjoy
Life's blessings while I may,
And meet its changes as they come,
The footsteps of decay.

At seventy-six we might expect
Our life-lights to grow dim,
The slow-paced step and wasted form,
Though once erect and trim.

'Tis nature's course; time's withering blight
Will come on all below.
Be ready then for any change
Time bids us undergo.

Then when this earth is made anew
All clothed in living green,
Where blight, decay, and care-worn brows
Are never to be seen,

We all shall bloom immortal, fair,
In Eden beauty dressed,
To share all Heaven's eternal joys,
And be forever blessed.

Passing the Gate.

Lines on leaving the house of a dear friend where I had
pleasantly spent several weeks.

Down deep in the heart is a fountain of tears,
Though seldom it flows to the eye;
'Tis not that I have not true interest and love,
That I say not the sad words, Good bye.

The gate must be opened, and opened for me,
For me to go out of the place,
Where I have enjoyed the best bounties of earth,
Where in love face has answered to face.

As I passed through the gate, language fails to express
My deep-felt emotions of heart;
'Twas leaving a home where was freedom and rest;
And who else can such favors impart?

Not that I was homeless; another dear place
Was all ready and waiting me, where
Again I should mingle with children and friends;
But oh! there's life's burden and care.

'Tis not that I'd shun them, and useless remain,
That I felt thus while passing the gate;
But feelings which beckon to higher results,
Thoughts I may not attempt to relate.

When fortune's wheel turns, will the gate opened be,
Be opened for me to come through?
Shall I find the same friends and the dear quiet room,
And my former engagements pursue?

To Him who controls all the myriad worlds,
With Him would I leave each event;
I would move in his order, and walk in his light,
And know that my time is well spent.

Then whether I ever that gate pass, or not,
Those loved ones again ever see,
The gates of the City will open for all
Who its glories and beauties would see.

Trust all to God.

We wait on God, our strength renewed,
Our love of self and pride subdued,
We then can cruel slander bear,
Nor ask why we these sufferings share.

We may exalted be by men,
Be censured and condemned; what then?
Our worth is in the Lord alone,
To whom our thoughts and acts are known.

That I am God, know and be still,
Though wrongfully you're suffering ill.
How many sins committed where
No eye has seen, yet still I spare.

Be humble, meek, and low of heart,
Nor from my holy law depart.
Thus will your strength be oft renewed,
And you with holy zeal imbued.

In that dread day you then can stand,
Where rocks are rent, and solid land
And mountains shake, and cities fall;
I'll be your strength, your God, your all.

From earth's dread ruins you'll be caught,
To God's celestial city brought,
Robed in a pure and spotless dress,
The robe of Christ's own righteousness.

Then every stain will be erased
From reputations now defaced;
And where was anguish, grief and tears,
Now smiles and bliss and joy appears.

To be forever with the Lord,
To share the infinite reward,
To sit with him upon his throne,
To see and know as we are known.

In everlasting songs divine,
In sweetest union all will join.
Who can describe the bliss there'll be,
When blessed with immortality?

The Vanity of Earth.

Sickness prostrates; helpless sufferer,
Who can stem the sorrowing tide?
Oh! how vain, when death approacheth,
Earthly pleasures, wealth and pride.

Though your name may be illustrious,
Handed down through ages yet,
Worldly honor and distinction,
We shall all ere long forget.

Weeping friends may stand around you,
Flattering prospects urge your stay;
But compelled by the destroyer,
To be launched from earth away.

Past reflections, oh! how painful,
If not answered life's great end;
Time all spent in vain delusion,
Now no hope, no God, no friend.

Who can paint the bitter anguish,
Felt at such a time as this;
Soon to leave those cherished idols,
Purchased with unending bliss.

Though we gain the world, what profit,
If we lose our souls at last?
Buy the gold, the shining raiment,
Ere the day of grace is past.

Dying Words.

There was one who to me was most lovely and dear;
I looked, and that loved one I saw disappear;
My dear, only daughter, who in life's early years,
Has gone to the grave, and has left me in tears.

The words of her parting, were, Jesus is mine;
He'll save, and I shall in his own likeness shine.
To God be all glory; Heaven's opened to me;
I shall rise with the saints, and immortal shall be.

My brothers, be wise and obey Heaven's laws;
Seek the Saviour to please and to honor his cause;
Rest not till you know all your sins are forgiven,
Oh! fail not, my brothers, to meet me in Heaven.

My mother, be ready to meet me that day,
Nor mourn that here with you no longer I stay.
Prepare for the trouble that soon is to come--
Who then will enjoy his own loved quiet home?

I die in the Lord, from my labors to rest
With the dead, of whom it is said, "They are blest."
For me bid farewell to the loved and the true,
May we meet where is heard no mournful adieu.

My mother, I'm dying, but Jesus is here;
With him I have nothing of evil to fear.
Thus peaceful she died, but still lingered the trace
Of the image divine on her cold pallid face.

In the lone, quiet tomb where she's longed to repose,
She rests from life's cares, from its "burden of woes,"
Beside her loved father, to memory dear--
O'er the graves of these loved, I withhold not the tear.

The Slave of Appetite.

What stings of conscience men will bear,
Their tastes to gratify;
Resolve and re-resolve, and still
Themselves cannot deny.

They say, "I'd give a thousand worlds
Could I the victory gain."
Your cause is just, to conquer here,
And all your rights maintain.

"What use," you ask, "to say I will,
And almost know I shan't;
I've tried, and tried, and tried again,
To quit, but oh! I can't."

Well, be it so; your course pursue,
But what will be the end?
Your conscience soon will be so seared,
You'll want no other friend.

Chief of the comforts you enjoy,
What comfort now you take.
When you're deprived of these, how sad,
Gloomy and desolate.

Why thus? Your nerves are all unstrung;
You're almost ruined now.
Does patience have her perfect work,
While thus you break each vow?

When worn with toil, how soon you seek
Your coffee, rum, or tea;
When trouble comes, these are your gods,
To which for help you flee.

Another, all his senses gone,
When giving up his quid,
In irritation mourns his lot,
From him all good seems hid.

The poisonous weed, the deadly drink
Are eagerly pursued;
So are they loved, men hardly wish
Their appetites subdued.

The exhilarating influence
When loved, who will forego?
The sad effects of these produce
The sum of human woe.

Not we alone the sufferers are;
Our friends must bear a part;
The animation felt by us
With them is a broken heart.

An oft untimely grave the lot,
Of those thus overcome;
What desolation then is felt,
In their once peaceful home?

Ere vigor, health, and life are gone,
Rouse every latent power;
The victory gained, again you're blest,
Within your own loved bower.

Heed not the tempter when he comes,
And pleads once more to yield;
Have you not fully yet resolved,
To shun this battle-field?

Why risk the victory you have gained?
Your resolution lost
This once might prove your ruin here,
And life eternal cost.

Try once again, while there is hope
To conquer and to live;
God will, if you will let him, help,
And all the past forgive.

He'll help to get the victory;
And victory must be gained,
Or no resolve to break the hold,
Will ever be maintained.

Not victory for a single day,
A week, a month, a year;
But victory that will stand the test
While we continue here.

A victory that will overcome
Inordinate desire,
To gratify perverted taste,
By habit made entire.

The conflict rages fiercely on;
Here victory, then defeat;
But faint not, you can overcome,
And make your foes retreat.

An armor for us is prepared,
A helmet, sword and shield,
And He who mighty is to save,
Is with us on the field.

Experience can alone impart
The joy of sins forgiven,
Freedom in God while here below,
And soon a home in Heaven.

All Trials Cease.

[A young lady passing through great trials, accidentally met with a piece of poetry, and was greatly comforted and relieved from her sorrow by the last line, "All trials cease in Heaven, at home with God."]

Are we assured our home's in Heaven?
That all our sins are now forgiven?
Do we with all the heart believe,
And God's approving smile receive?

Is every weight now laid aside?
The last besetting sin denied?
God then to us this knowledge gives:
"I know that my Redeemer lives."

This consciousness must purify,
And bring eternal glories nigh.
Though here we bear affliction's rod,
No tears "in Heaven, at home with God."

No suffering there; "all trials cease,
In Heaven at home with God," is peace.
Yea, more than this, all there unite,
In sweetest anthems of delight.

There will they hallelujahs sing,
In honor of their Heavenly King;
Forever there, their voices raise,
In songs seraphic to his praise.

This glory Jesus' word reveals;
Each promise with his blood he seals.
We're sure, if here to him we come,
To be in Heaven with God at home.

To Ellena Boutwell.

And is there another dear loved one for me?
May a strong cord of union now bind me to thee?
Would you call me your mother? Permit in return,
That I call thee my child, and your history learn.

Pleased with your demeanor, and turn of your mind,
With attractions I seem to see in thee combined;
But few would take interest in one of my age,
Though he might be an artist, a bard or a sage.

Though past man's alloted threescore and ten years,
Though I've passed through afflictions, in sorrow and tears,
In feeling still young, and in sympathy true,
I would have the world better for my passing through.

I'm glad I have seen you; I've one more to love,
On whom to ask blessings that come from above.
This friendship new-formed--may it ever increase,
And we find in Jesus true heavenly peace.

To Aaron A. Smith,

On his leaving to join the Army.

For one who can fill such a place in the choir,
Whose musical talents none can but admire,
Who is loved and looked up to as teacher and guide,
To leave for the war, will be felt far and wide.

But it is not, dear nephew, for earth's vain delight,
That you leave home and friends for your country to fight;
It is for the Union--our rights to maintain--
That you go where the strife piles its thousands of slain.

Good bye! God protect you; on his arm rely,
There is safety for no one except from on high.
We are safe only while we in Jesus abide;
He's our rule, he's our pattern, our only sure guide.

Be careful to follow where he leads the way;
Let nothing entice from his footsteps to stray.
May he keep you from falling and lead you safe through
To the home and the friends you are bidding adieu.

To Samuel.

Good morning, you said, as you left for your bride,
For the one in whom you so truly confide.
Good morning, my son, Heaven's blessings attend,
As you take a companion, a dear, chosen friend.

I'm happy in thinking you'll bring home a wife
To take the direction in things of this life,
May her interest and aim be all one with us here,
And she be to mother a daughter most dear.

The sister, the daughter, and wife, all combine;
The home of her childhood she too must resign.
Though former companions may not be forgot,
New duties, new trials will fall to her lot.

Be true and affectionate, always the same;
One in heart as you now are to be one in name,
Wherever she is, be it your joy to come;
While each can say truly, "There's no place like home."

You've doubtless informed her you intended your mother
Would have a home with you, and also your brother,
That she unexpectedly might not find these,
To add to her household, to care for and please.

You've been an affectionate, dutiful son;
Everything in your power, for my comfort you've done;
You've said this attention you owed me through life--
Oh! I'd be a rich blessing to your and your wife.

Should I be a burden still greater to bear,
The daughter and wife in the trial must share.
Think then of my age, over seventy years,
And bear with me though I cause sorrow and tears.

Though fretful, impatient, not suited at all,
And you think it best not to mind every call,
Remember past seasons, my kindness, and know
I would have you as blest as one could be below.

And in the new earth when all trials are o'er,
I would be with you there to have life evermore.
An unbroken band may we all there appear,
The father, the mother, the children so dear.

We should there know each other, and all we've been through,
While Annie would greet her dear brothers anew
And Harriet and Frances[2] would help swell the song,
Of Heaven's free grace, with the numerous throng.

My dearest Samuel, through life's scenes
I'd thought to live with thee,
But providentially a change,
Has taken you from me;
Dear child you need not fear for me.

Those kind words, "Mother, live with me,"
As then are now the same;
Unshaken is my confidence,
That you are just the same,
To-day, the very, very same.

Oh! how my heart goes after thee,
My dear, loved, cherished son,
Your father's name and image bear,
As does no other one;
I see the once-loved in my son.

I see thee oft in fancy's view,
And love to see thee so;
I'm happy that to your new home,
I'm wholly free to go;
My son to your home I can go.

It is my choice; I would be here,
I love to be alone,
I love this quiet solitude,
I love the wild wind's moan;
My child, I would be here alone.

Yet not alone, another son
Is with me all the while.
Though frail in health, he cares for me,
And greets me with a smile;
He does my lonely hours beguile.

Another too, though far away,
Away now at the West--
With three kind sons to care for me,
Most signally I'm blest;
Be Heaven our place of final rest.

The husband and the daughter sleep;
Thus friends are parted here,
But they in joy will live again,
When Jesus shall appear,
To dry each Christian mourner's tear.

_February, 1865._

[2]Daughters-in-law.

Lines

Written on the death of Annie R. Smith.

Let Annie sleep; her rest is with the dead;
All sorrow past, her last sad tear is shed;
Why call to mind the sufferings here she bore,
When now with her they are forever o'er?

Why ope the wound--that wound so deeply given,
When from the parent tree this branch was riven?
Oh! spare thy tears, wake not the fount of grief;
No human power can aid or give relief.

She died in hope of living evermore
With those she loved, when Time's last scene is o'er.
When Jesus comes, we trust there'll be a place
Prepared for her with all the ransomed race.

Shall we then see her in immortal bloom,
Risen triumphant from the silent tomb?
Shall we there meet her all in bright array,
And spend in Heaven with her an endless day?

Shall we behold the glorious city fair,
And by the King of kings be welcomed there?
To eat with her the fruit of earth made new,
And give to Jesus praise and glory due?

Oh, 'tis enough! Let earthly sorrow cease,
While Jesus says in him we shall have peace.
That God in us may his designs fulfill,
We'll meekly suffer all his holy will.

To My Mother.

BY ANNIE R. SMITH.

My lot has been to roam
Far from the cheering light of home,
Mid scenes of commotion, turmoil and strife,
Temptation and snares that beset this life.
Oh! yonder I see a beacon light gleaming,
O'er the dark wave its lustre is beaming,
Dear mother! as the light to the mariner lost,
So thou to the bark on the billow tossed.

My lot has been to meet
The bitter mixed with transient sweet;
To struggle on, in toil and care,
The tide of adverse fate to bear.
Oh! yonder I see a tender vine, twining
Around a tree, its tendrils are shining;
Dear mother! as the vine twines around the tree,
So from life's rude blasts I cling to thee.

My lot has been to feel
Dark shadows o'er my spirit steal;
From slanderous tongues, and envy's wiles,
Deceit that lurked 'neath wreathing smiles.
Oh! yonder I see the floweret's hue;
Reviving 'neath the pearly dew.
Dear mother! as the dew to the drooping flower,
So thou to me in sorrow's dark hour.

My lot has been to learn
Of friendship false, that bright will burn
When fortune spreads her wing of light,
But fades away when cometh night.
Oh! yonder I see a bright star sparkling,
While all around lies cold and darkling.
Dear mother! as the star thou art in weal or wo,
The darker the night, the brighter the glow.

My lot has been to pore
Learning's classic pages o'er;
Seeking for hidden pearls to wear,
Fame's golden wreath, the victors bear.
Oh! yonder I see a lone bird flying,
Seeking her nest with voice of sighing.
Dear mother! as the wearied bird her downy nest,
So seek I thee, for quiet rest.

My lot is now to tread
A troubled path whence light hath fled;
But ne'er do I thy words forget,
Or smiles of love from thee I've met.
I think of thee in morning's beaming light,
In burning noon and shadowy night.
Dear mother! mid all my thoughtless wanderings wild,
Still clings to thee thy devoted child.

Whate'er my future lot may be,
On life's tempestuous trackless sea,
Oh, may I never, where'er I roam,
Forget the cheering light of home,
That blessed light to the wanderer given,
To guide the way that leads to Heaven.
Dear mother! to thee may I cling till life is o'er,
And united above--we part nevermore.

Response.

Dear Annie:

What though thy lot has been to bear
Much adverse fate, 'mid toil and care,
Raised expectations crushed and dead,
And hope's triumphant visions fled?

Dost thou not feel a mightier power,
A hand divine in this dark hour?
Does not thy heart begin to feel
The claims of Him who wounds to heal?

'Tis true, my child, misfortune's blast
But breaks the rock whence gems are cast;
The polished steel and marble white,
Was once as rough and dark as night.

As purest gold and clearest glass
Must through the hottest furnace pass,
So oft repeated strokes are given,
To form and fit a soul for Heaven.

What though you've learned of envy's wiles,
The slanderous tongue, which oft beguiles?
The sweetest fruit on bush and trees,
Is culled and plucked by birds and bees.

Although you've traced the landscape fair,
And sought for knowledge rich and rare,
Gone to the depth of hidden ore,
That richest mine you might explore,

Lines "To my Mother," more I prize
Than all the paintings 'neath the skies;
And they will ever bring to me,
Dear child, sweet memories of thee.

Although I prize the painter's art,
Yet more th' effusions of the heart;
Kind feelings, sympathy and love,
All arts and wealth I prize above.

Since then these trials but refine,
Bring out deep caverns' hidden mine,
Resign all to that power on high,
Till sufferings cease and sorrows die.

Lines

To a mother whose son enlisted in the army.

For a mother to part, for the war, with a son,
Whose kindness and love her affections have won,
Cannot but excite deep emotions of grief,
And in tears the torn bosom will seek for relief.

Commend, in submission, this loved son to Heaven,
And thank Him who gave, that to you he was given;
That he leaves here a circle of associates dear,
Who his memory and name will delight to revere.

In the family circle his place will be missed,
And some may regret that he felt to enlist,
While others look forward, still hoping to see
Him back in the choir, where his place used to be.

If God has a work for him still here to do,
His eye will be on him to bring him safe through.
He will suffer no harm to befall him while there;
As a man spares his own son, so God will him spare.

But nought of the future to us is revealed;
His destiny and ours is most wisely concealed;
'Tis for us to submit; be our lot what it may,
And all the requirements of Heaven obey.

Lines

Read at a gathering of the oldest people of Wilton, at
Miss Sarah Livermore's, November, 1870.

Now far advanced in life we're here,
To visit one long held most dear;
Though we have all been young and gay,
Time's rolling years have worked decay.

Though lingering here on earth's broad shore,
Life's journey must be nearly o'er;
And may this friendly, gathering call,
A blessing prove to one and all.

Convened here, then, be this our aim,
To make each other glad we came;
In union these rich blessings share,
And say, 'Twas good that we were there.

Refreshed, we'd patiently pursue
This last part of our journey through.
On those who entertain these guests,
Would ask that they be doubly blest.

We would not fail while here to see
All we're required to do and be.
Would advocate and teach the right,
Still hastening toward perfection's hight.

Earth's pleasures then will be increased
By this delightful, social feast,
And we prepared to meet in Heaven,
Where joys eternal will be given.

Lines

On the death of my husband, Samuel Smith.

Gone is my husband, no more shall I see
That kind look of love as he smiled upon me.
I cherished and loved him; and who can tell
My anguish while on his departure I dwell?
Long I have been with him, in sickness and health,
Shared in his losses, and enjoyed with him wealth;
He lives in my memory, lives in my heart,
His virtues are printed there, ne'er to depart.

Fast were we joined by the tenderest ties,
And lonely I mourn o'er the grave where he lies.
I hear not his steps, but the lone place I see,
Where oft his kind words have been spoken to me.
I miss him while gather the shadows of night;
I miss him when dawns the fair morning light.
I miss him--but where are the words to express
The depth of my grief in such loneliness.

I smile when I'm sad, and seem joyful in grief;
When alone bitter tears are my only relief;
Bruised now is the heart by the blow that has come,
Dark now the dear spot, once so bright as my home.
Though wealth were my portion, and splendor surround,
More empty 'twould seem while the loved was not found.
With him I'd be blest, though earth's treasures were few,
And trouble should prove my affection more true.

Oft I imagine each member is here,
Those pledges of love and affection so dear,
I view the loved circle, but ah! there's a space--
'Tis vacant, and nought can to me fill the place.
But those left behind, his dear image reveal,
Who only affection and sympathy feel;
Their kindness I know, the returns of their love,
And ask for them blessings that come from above.

But he's gone to the grave, where, free from all care,
He knows not the grief which for him I now bear.
There rest till our Saviour shall bid thee arise;
Then may we immortal ascend to the skies.
With this hope I can triumph o'er earth's deepest gloom,
The dearest and loveliest can yield to the tomb;
When bowed in submission, my Saviour appears,
Bids me trust in his word, and refrain from my tears.

Look Up.

Lone Pilgrim, cease that mournful sigh--
Look up! redemption draweth nigh.
Have loved ones gone, does earth look drear?
Look up! shed not that bitter tear.

What though the heart is saddened now,
And shadows gather on thy brow,
And grief the bosom heaving still--
Look up! submit to Heaven's own will.

Do trials, unexpected, rise?
Look up! and view the glorious prize;
Let not life's sorrows press you down--
Look up! prepare to take the crown.

Lift up your head, rejoice and sing--
Look up! by faith behold your King.
He soon is coming, heed his call--
Look up! and make your God your all.

He'll come, all troubles here to end,
He'll come, a never-failing friend,
He'll come to take his children home--
Look up! and pray, Lord, quickly come.

Overcoming Sin.

How fiercely does the conflict rage within,
While striving to subdue some cherished sin;
What shall be done? The idol is most dear,
And often is the victim vanquished here.

Though trivial it may seem, sin's poisonous dart
Will sting the conscience and will wound the heart,
Destroy the peace and condemnation bring,
And drive us from the shelter of His wing.

In view of this, who dare a sin commit?
Our cherished idols we must all submit;
As one small leak the largest ship will sink,
So one dear sin, will lead to ruin's brink.

While love for sin in any form remains,
Though not committed, we are still in chains;
Sins must be broken off by righteousness,
And then will God deliver, own and bless.

No condemnation then--all peace within,
Untrammeled freedom from the love of sin;
Oh! blessed freedom! nought can then control
The heavenward flight and rapture of the soul.

Will You be a Pilgrim?

Will you come in with the pilgrims, though a remnant they may be,
And know the blessed privilege of gospel liberty?
Will you take the name of Christ, and be redeemed by sovereign grace,
And find in him from every storm a sure, safe hiding-place?

Will you part with earth's delusive joys, with all its vain delights,
And "bear the consecrated cross," to have the Christian's rights?
They have a right to call on God; and he's vouchsafed his aid.
The ancients said, We'll trust in thee, nor ever be dismayed.

They said, 'Tis nothing, Lord, with thee, with many or with few,
To put a mighty host to flight, and all our foes subdue.
Will you go against the multitude, in his own strength and name?
He fought their battles and he's still unchangeably the same.

Their hope's an anchor to the soul, both sure and steadfast too,
And buoys their spirits up in all the conflicts they go through.
Will you have this hope to cheer you, to an unfading crown--
A crown that far outshines this world, with all its grand renown?

They've no abiding city here, but look for one to come,
A glorious city all illumed, to be their final home.
Oh! will you suffer sorrow here, and have a home in Heaven,
A kingdom that will shortly be, to all the faithful given?

Home for the Weary.

If there's rest for the weary, a home for the meek,
Hope for the trembling and strength for the weak,
Take courage, worn pilgrim, nor sink in despair,
While braving the storms that but hasten us there.

The waves and the billows will over us go,
And waters most bitter will oft overflow.
Our hearts with fierce conflicts and anguish be riven,
But hope to the end; there's salvation in Heaven.

Oh, who will endure the last searching test,
With Abrah'm and Isaac and Jacob be blest
In the kingdom of God? and who will be lost,
To find when too late, what earth's pleasures have cost?

Shall we cling, then, to what Christ would have us give up?
Oh, no! grieve him not, and he with us will sup.
He'll shelter us here in the last coming strife,
And give us to drink of the water of life.

How blest to be ready and waiting to hear
The last trumpet sound, and see Jesus appear!
Such then will rejoice that redemption has come,
Be changed to his image, and received to their home.

The Enemy's Power.

Rev. xii, 12.

As Satan has in wrath come down,
To bring us 'neath our Maker's frown,
We must resist his course.
He'll bring beneath his dread control
The doubting, disobedient soul,
By his satanic force.

Where least expected his attack,
To lead us to perdition back,
And claim us as his own.
Alarming are his wily arts,
Most fearful, too, his fiery darts,
When undiscovered thrown.

Armed and equipped we must be sure,
His fierce temptations to endure,
His fatal snares to meet.
'Tis easy going with the tide;
In Jesus Christ we must abide,
And be in him complete.

There's no true consolation here,
But to be holy in our sphere,
From condemnation free.
When all our foes within are slain,
The tempter then comes but in vain,
With Heaven he'll ne'er agree.

The humble, merciful and just,
In God who wholly put their trust,
Shall find protection sure.
Their fortress, shield and firm defense,
Is naught less than Omnipotence,
With strength given to endure.

Those who in God securely stand,
When thousands fall at their right hand,
No plague will them come nigh;
They're safe 'neath Heaven's sheltering wings,
'Mid crash of worlds, all earthly things,
Which will in ruin lie.

Thus guarded here, when all is o'er,
They'll be with those who die no more,
Forever safe in Heaven,
Where all is union, peace and love,
Made welcome to the courts above,
Where life eternal's given.

But we are here on dangerous ground;
Some will be weighed and wanting found,
Will from the truth depart,
Will false, delusive spirits heed,
And pride and arrogance will feed,
And harden still the heart.

When self, that mighty foe, prevails
To conquer, every effort fails;
Self will be gratified,
E'en at the expense of present peace,
Till conscience' warning voice will cease,
And self feel justified.

And some, in view of being lost,
Will self indulge, whate'er the cost,
Nor think to be forgiven.
Their dearest idol bears such sway,
So loved, their practice does but say,
If one must go, 'tis Heaven.

A course deliberate thus pursued,
Instead of having self subdued,
Eternal life they'll lose.
They'll bear the burden of their guilt,
For which the blood of Christ was spilt,
And go the way they choose.

Justice will utter, Let them go,
They've proved their final overthrow--
Their day of grace is past.
May those who're not yet given o'er,
Repent, ere closed is mercy's door,
And thus be saved at last.

Sustaining Grace.

Homeless was my blessed Saviour,
Patient, too, mid all his grief;
Why be downcast, sad, desponding,
When he'll freely give relief?

Oh, 'tis not that I am homeless,
Nor that I am suffering pain;
But my Saviour seems hid from me,
And my hope does not sustain.

I would daily have the witness,
That my dear Redeemer lives;
That he's interceding for me,
And my every blessing gives.

Live then for this blest approval,
Not one sin allow a place;
God commands us to be holy,
While we run the Christian race.

He is holy who hath called you;
So be ye, in word and deed;
To enjoy the Saviour's presence,
We must to our ways take heed.

None can have this full salvation,
While to one known sin a slave;
Jesus came to free and pardon,
And from sin his people save.

Fearless then go forth to battle,
Conquering sin through Christ the Lord;
He'll assist while we're obedient
To the teachings of his word.

Glorious conquests have been witnessed;
God for ever is the same;
We may all be strong and mighty,
Through his great and holy name.

Go Forward.

Stay not halting, be decided!
With God's people take your place,
They who seek a home in Heaven
All must run the Christian race.

Though the Red Sea is before you,
And the Egyptians in the rear,
Venture forward, no retreating,
Linger not a moment here.

If you go, you can but perish;
Onward move where God can save.
Hasten ere you're with the wicked,
Sinking 'neath the swelling wave.

God here meets his trusting people,
Makes a passage through the deep,
He'll display his power in saving
Those who his commandments keep.

Why Art Thou Cast Down?

Why this dark depth of grief and gloom, this anguish and despair?
The unpardonable sin you mourn, is not yet yours to bear.
Why thus disquieted, cast down? Hope thou in God; he'll give
The very blessing you most need; look up to him and live.

This crushing weight of heartfelt grief, this flow of sorrow's tide,
Will ere long bring the sad report, Of broken heart he died.
God knows what has befallen you, knows why the sore event;
Wait until he shall show you why this bitter cup was sent.

Be at your post, where'er it be; the claims of life fulfill.
Be no one act or motive wrong; heed Heaven's own bidding still.
Then let the hail sweep o'er your path, let storms in fury rise,
God will in safety bring you through to mansions in the skies.

He's at the helm, he'll guide the ship through every dangerous strait,
And make you welcome when within the holy city's gate.
No bitter scenes of heartfelt grief, though now with anguish riven,
Will meet you in that world of bliss, the holy calm of Heaven.

Trust.

My cause is with my blessed Lord, he does my footsteps guide;
He's led me in an unknown way, and laid my plans aside;
He's hedged up all my well-laid schemes, or what seemed so to me,
And oh! what wisdom I behold, now his designs I see.

I'll glory in his holy name, and pray, Lord guide me still;
In each event submission learn, and sink into his will.
His will is welcome, tho' it lay each earthly prospect low;
God is too wise to err, and will what's best for us bestow.

The Psalmist made his boast in God, and we may do the same;
The word exhorts to cry aloud, and praise his holy name.
Should those here hold their peace, whom God has his own Spirit given,
Where could he look for honor due, and whom make meet for Heaven?

Regardless of the world's cold frown, we would march boldly on,
Nor right nor left would turn, but go where our dear Saviour's gone,
There's mansions there, and Jesus will prepare his saints a place,
Where they will never cease to sing of his redeeming grace.

Are we expecting to be there, and share each proffered bliss?
The Father's love is not in those who love a world like this.
Then tarry not in all the plain; seek high and holy ground,
Lest in the balance when we're weighed, we should be wanting found.

"Brother, Live!"

When dark misfortune's tide is up,
Its surges running high,
If we have lost our hold on God,
Where then for refuge fly?

Oppressed, desponding, near despair,
Health, strength and courage fled,
These cheering words heed, "_Brother, live!_"
And raise your sinking head.

Though anguish deep, and bitter grief
Be felt and long be borne,
Abide the test; seek no relief
That's not from Heaven alone.

Deliverance must be found in God,
A blessing to secure;
There is encouragement for those
Who trials well endure.

In tribulation's beaten path,
The ancient prophets trod;
It is the only way that brings
The wanderer home to God.

Let patience have its perfect work,
Be purified and tried;
Be ready when the King shall come,
To e'er with him abide.

Condense.

The article which now you think
So perfect and complete,
Would doubtless be, if half as long,
For printing twice as meet.

Once and again your thoughts condense,
Then what remains improve;
For matter must be weighty now,
The minds of men to move.

No preface does your piece demand,
No introduction needs;
Select the wheat, but cast aside
The straw, and chaff, and weeds.

How many worse than wasted hours
Are spent foul works to read,
Fictions which poison heart and mind,
And basest passions feed.

Search for some richer gems than these,
Ideas new and rare;
Soon will you learn the good to save,
The valueless to spare.

With heart and mind thus disciplined,
And quickened every sense,
Let these three rules your pen control--
Condense, condense, condense.

"The Bond of Peace."

When love unites the saints
There'll be no sad complaints
Against each other;
No bitter root will spring,
A wrong report to bring
Against a brother.

Each will delight to see
Sweet peace and harmony,
And long for more;
God's love the heart will fill,
And selfish motives kill,
As ne'er before.

In union there'll be strength,
Through all the breadth and length
Of this grand host;
Armed for the battle-field,
No point of truth they'll yield,
Firm at their post.

And when the battle's o'er,
They're safe forevermore,
With Christ their King;
Through him they gain their crown,
And lay their weapons down,
And victory sing.

Christian Submission.