Chapter II: Front Matter (2)

I have wept
With gladness at the gift of this fair child!
My life is bound up in her. But, oh God!
Thou know'st how heavily my heart at times
Bears its sweet burthen; and if Thou hast given
To nurture such as mine this spotless flower,
To bring it unpolluted unto Thee,
_Take Thou its love_, I pray thee! Give it light--
Though, following the sun, it turn from me!--
But, by the chord thus wrung, and by the light
Shining about her, draw me to my child!
And link us close, oh God, when near to heaven!

--_N. P. Willis._

EVERLASTING BLESSINGS.

"I know that whatsoever God doeth it shall be forever." --ECCLES. iii. 14.

O what everlasting blessings God outpoureth on His own!
Ours by promise true and faithful, spoken from eternal throne;
Ours by His eternal purpose ere the universe had place;
Ours by everlasting covenant, ours by free and royal grace.

With salvation everlasting He shall save us, He shall bless
With the largess of Messiah, everlasting righteousness;
Ours the everlasting mercy all His wondrous dealings prove;
Ours His everlasting kindness, fruit of everlasting love.

In the Lord Jehovah trusting, everlasting strength have we;
He Himself, our Sun, our Glory, everlasting Light shall be;
Everlasting life is ours, purchased by The Life laid down;
And our heads, oft bowed and weary, everlasting joy shall crown.

We shall dwell with Christ forever, when the shadows flee away,
In the everlasting glory of the everlasting day.
Unto Thee, belovèd Saviour, everlasting thanks belong,
Everlasting adoration, everlasting land and song.

--_Frances Ridley Havergal._

THE MOTHER TO HER CHILD.

They tell me thou art come from a far world,
Babe of my bosom! that these little arms,
Whose restlessness is like the spread of wings,
Move with the memory of flights scarce o'er--
That through these fringed lids we see the soul
Steep'd in the blue of its remember'd home;
And while thou sleep'st come messengers, they say,
Whispering to thee--and 'tis then I see
Upon thy baby lips that smile of heaven!
And what is thy far errand, my fair child?
Why away, wandering from a home of bliss,
To find thy way through darkness home again?
Wert thou an untried dweller in the sky?
Is there, betwixt the cherub that thou wert,
The cherub and the angel thou may'st be,
A life's probation in this sadder world?
Art thou with memory of two things only,
Music and light, left upon earth astray,
And, by the watchers at the gate of heaven,
Look'd for with fear and trembling?
God! who gavest
Into my guiding hand this wanderer,
To lead her through a world whose darkling paths
I tread with steps so faltering--leave not me
To bring her to the gates of heaven, alone!
I feel my feebleness. Let _these_ stay on--
The angels who now visit her in dreams!
Bid them be near her pillow till in death
The closed eyes look upon Thy face once more!
And let the light and music, which the world
Borrows of heaven, and which her infant sense
Hails with sweet recognition, be to her
A voice to call her upward, and a lamp
To lead her steps unto Thee!

--_N. P. Willis._

GIVE ME THY HEART.

With echoing steps the worshipers
Departed one by one;
The organ's pealing voice was stilled,
The vesper hymn was done;
The shadows fell from roof and arch,
Dim was the incensed air,
One lamp alone, with trembling ray,
Told of the Presence there!

In the dark church she knelt alone;
Her tears were falling fast;
"Help, Lord," she cried, "the shades of death
Upon my soul are cast!
Have I not shunned the path of sin,
And chosen the better part?"--
What voice came through the sacred air?--
"_My child, give me thy Heart!_"

"Have I not laid before Thy shrine
My wealth, O Lord?" she cried;
"Have I kept aught of gems or gold,
To minister to pride?
Have I not bade youth's joys retire,
And vain delights depart?"--
But sad and tender was the voice,--
"_My child, give me thy Heart!_"

"Have I not, Lord, gone day by day
Where Thy poor children dwell;
And carried help, and gold, and food?
O Lord, Thou knowest it well?
From many a house, from many a soul,
My hand bids care depart:"--
More sad, more tender was the voice,--
"_My child, give me thy Heart!_"

"Have I not worn my strength away
With fast and penance sore?
Have I not watched and wept?" she cried;
"Did Thy dear saints do more?
Have I not gained Thy grace, O Lord,
And won in heaven my part?"--
It echoed louder in her soul,--
"_My child, give me thy Heart!_"

"For I have loved thee with a love
No mortal heart can show;
A love so deep, my saints in heaven
Its depths can never know;
When pierced and wounded on the cross,
Man's sin and doom were mine,
I loved Thee with undying love,
Immortal and divine!

"I loved Thee ere the skies were spread;
My soul bears all thy pains;
To gain thy love my sacred heart
In earthly shrines remains:
Vain are thy offerings, vain thy sighs,
Without one gift divine;
Give it my child, thy heart to me,
And it shall rest in mine!"

In awe she listened, and the shade
Passed from her soul away;
In low and trembling voice she cried,--
"Lord, help me to obey!
Break Thou the chains of earth, O Lord,
That bind and hold my heart;
Let it be Thine, and Thine alone,
Let none with Thee have part.

"Send down, O Lord, Thy sacred fire!
Consume and cleanse the sin
That lingers still within its depths;
Let heavenly love begin.
That sacred flame Thy saints have known,
Kindle, O Lord, in me,
Thou above all the rest forever,
And all the rest in Thee."

The blessing fell upon her soul;
Her angel by her side
Knew that the hour of peace was come;
Her soul was purified:
The shadows fell from roof and arch,
Dim was the incensed air,--
But Peace went with her as she left
The sacred Presence there!

--_Adelaide Procter._

One sweetly solemn thought
Comes to me o'er and o'er:
I'm nearer home to-day
Than I have been before;
Nearer my Father's house,
Where many mansions be,
Nearer the great white throne,
Nearer the crystal sea.

Nearer the bound of life,
Where burdens are laid down,
Nearer to leave the cross,
And nearer to the crown;
But lying dark between,
And winding through the night,
The deep and unknown stream
Crossed ere we reach the light.

Jesus, confirm my trust;
Strengthen the hand of faith
To feel Thee, when I stand
Upon the shore of death.
Be near me when my feet
Are slipping o'er the brink;
For I am nearer home,
Perhaps, than now I think.

--_Phoebe Cary._

LEFT BEHIND.

Look at this starbeam! From its place of birth,
It has come down to greet us here below;
Now it alights unwearied on this earth,
Nor storm nor night have quenched its heavenly glow.

Unbent before the winter's rugged blast,
Unsoiled by this sad planet's tainted air,
It sparkles out from yon unmeasured vast,
Bright 'mid the brightest, 'mid the fairest fair.

Undimmed it reaches me; but yet alone:
The thousand gay companions that took wing
Along with it have perished one by one,
Scattered o'er space like blossoms of the spring.

Some to yon nearer orbs have sped their course,
Yon city's smoke has quenched a thousand more;
Myriads in yon dark cloud have spent their force;
A few stray gleams are all that reach our shore.

And with us! How many, who began
Life's race with us, are dropping by the way;
Losing themselves in darkness one by one,
From the glad goal departing wide astray;

When we shall reach the kingdom of the blest,
How few who started with us shall we find
Arriving or arrived, for glorious rest!
How many shall we mourn as left behind!

--_Horatius Bonar._

Lord, what a change within us one short hour
Spent in Thy presence will prevail to make--
What heavy burdens from our bosoms take,
What parched grounds refresh, as with a shower!
We kneel, and all around us seems to lower;
We rise, and all, the distant and the near,
Stands forth in sunny outline, brave and clear;
We kneel how weak, we rise how full of power!
Why, therefore, should we do ourselves this wrong,
Or others--that we are not always strong;
That we are ever overborne with care;
That we should ever weak or heartless be,
Anxious or troubled, when with us is prayer,
And joy, and strength, and courage, are with Thee?

--_Richard Chenevix Trench._

OUR FATHER.

Oh that I loved the Father
With depth of conscious love,
As steadfast, bright, and burning
As seraphim above!
But how can I be deeming
Myself a loving child,
When here, and there, and everywhere,
My thoughts are wandering wild?

It is my chief desire
To know Him more and more,
To follow Him more fully
Than I have done before:
My eyes are dim with longing
To see the Lord above;
But oh! I fear from year to year,
I do not truly love.

'For when I try to follow
The mazes of my soul,
I find no settled fire of love
Illumining the whole;
'Tis all uncertain twilight,
No clear and vivid glow;
Would I could bring to God my King
The perfect love I owe!'

The gift is great and holy,
'Twill not be sought in vain;
But look up for a moment
From present doubt and pain,
And calmly tell me _how_ you love
The dearest ones below?
"This love," say you, "is deep and true!"
But tell me how you know?

How do you love your father?
"Oh in a thousand ways!
I think there's no one like him,
So worthy of my praise,
I tell him all my troubles,
And ask him what to do;
I know that he will give to me
His counsel kind and true.

"Then every little service
Of hand, or pen, or voice,
Becomes, if he has asked it,
The service of my choice.
And from my own desires
'Tis not so hard to part,
If once I know I follow so
His wiser will and heart."

'I know the flush of pleasure
That o'er my spirit came,
When far from home with strangers,
They caught my father's name;
And for his sake the greeting
Was mutual and sweet,
For if they knew my father too,
How glad we were to meet!

'And when I heard them praising
His music and his skill,
His words of holy teaching,
Life-preaching, holier still,
How eagerly I listened
To every word that fell!
'Twas joy to hear that name so dear
Both known and loved so well.

'Once I was ill and suffering,
Upon a foreign shore,
And longed to see my father,
As I never longed before.
He came: his arm around me;
I leaned upon his breast;
I did not long to feel more strong,
So sweet that childlike rest.

'The thought of home is pleasant,
Yet I should hardly care
To leave my present fair abode,
Unless I knew him there.
All other love and pleasure
Can never crown the place,
A home to me it cannot be
Without my fathers face.'

This is no fancy drawing,
But every line is true,
And you have traced as strong a love
As ever daughter knew.
But though its fond expression
Is rather lived than told,
You do not say from day to day,
'I fear my love is cold!'

You do not think about it;
'Tis never in your thought--
'I wonder if I love him
As deeply as I ought?
I know his approbation
Outweighs all other meed,
That his employ is always joy,
But do I love indeed?'

Now let your own words teach you
The higher, holier claim
Of Him, who condescends to bear
A Father's gracious name.
No mystic inspiration,
No throbbings forced and wild
He asks, but just the loving trust
Of a glad and grateful child.

The rare and precious moments
Of realizing thrill,
Are but love's blissful blossom,
To brighten, not to fill
The storehouse and the garner
With ripe and pleasant fruit;
And not alone by these is shown
The true and holy root.

What if your own dear father
Were summoned to his rest!
One lives, by whom that bitterest grief
Could well be soothed and blessed.
Like balm upon your sharpest woe
His still, small voice would fall;
His touch would heal, you could not feel
That you had lost your all.

But what if He, the Lord of life,
Could ever pass away!
What if _His_ name were blotted out,
And you could know to-day
There was _no_ heavenly Father,
No Saviour dear and true,
No throne of grace, no resting-place,
No living God for you!

We need not dwell in horror
On what can never be,
Such endless desolation,
Such undreamt misery.
Our reason could not bear it,
And all the love of earth,
In fullest bliss, compared with this,
Were nothing, _nothing_ worth.

Then bring your poor affection,
And try it by this test;
The hidden depth is fathomed,
You see you love Him _best_!
'Tis but a feeble echo
Of His great love to you,
Yet in His ear each note is dear,
Its harmony is true.

It is an uncut jewel,
All earth-incrusted now,
But He will make it glorious,
And set it on His brow:
'Tis but a tiny glimmer,
Lit from the light above,
But it shall blaze through endless days,
A star of perfect love.

--_Frances Ridley Havergal._

Thou art the Way: to thee alone
From sin and death we flee;
And he who would the Father seek,
Must seek Him, Lord, by Thee.

Thou art the Truth; Thy word alone
True wisdom can impart;
Thou only canst instruct the mind,
And purify the heart.

Thou art the Life: the rending tomb
Proclaims Thy conquering arm;
And those who put their trust in Thee
Nor death nor hell shall harm.

Thou art the Way, the Truth, the Life:
Grant us to know that Way;
That Truth to keep, that Life to win,
Which leads to endless day.

--_Doane._

THE NIGHT AND THE MORNING.

To dream a troubled dream, and then awaken
To the soft gladness of a summer sky;
To dream ourselves alone, unloved, forsaken,
And then to wake 'mid smiles, and love, and joy;

To look at evening on the storm's rude motion,
The cloudy tumult of the fretted deep;
And then at day-burst upon that same ocean,
Soothed to the stillness of its stillest sleep--

So runs our course--so tells the church her story,
So to the end shall it be ever told;
Brief shame on earth, but after shame the glory,
That wanes not, dims not, never waxes old.

Lord Jesus, come, and end this troubled dreaming.
Dark shadows vanish, rosy twilight break!
Morn of the true and real, burst forth, calm-beaming.
Day of the beautiful, arise, awake!

--_Horatius Bonar._

IN AFFLICTION.

Father! Thy will, not mine, be done!
So prayed on earth Thy suffering Son,
So, in His name I pray:
The spirit fails, the flesh is weak;
Thy help in agony I seek;
O! take this cup away.

If such be not Thy sovereign will,
Thy wiser purpose then fulfil;
My wishes I resign,
Into Thine hands my soul commend,
On Thee for life or death depend;
Thy will be done, not mine.

--_James Montgomery._

Give to the winds thy fears;
Hope, and be undismay'd;
God hears thy sighs, and counts thy tears.
God shall lift up thy head.

Through waves, through clouds and storms,
He gently clears thy way;
Wait thou His time; so shall this night
Soon end in joyous day.

Still heavy is thy heart?
Still sink thy spirits down?
Cast off the weight, let fear depart,
Bid every care be gone.

What though thou rulest not!
Yet heaven, and earth, and hell
Proclaim, God sitteth on the throne,
And ruleth all things well.

--_Gerhard._

Where wilt thou put thy trust?
In a frail form of clay,
That to its element of dust
Must soon resolve away?

Where will thou cast thy care?
Upon an erring heart,
Which hath its own sore ills to bear,
And shrinks from sorrow's dart?

No! place thy trust above
This shadowy realm of night,
In Him, whose boundless power and love
Thy confidence invite.

His mercies still endure
When skies and stars grow dim,
His changeless promise standeth sure,
Go,--cast thy care on Him.

--_Mrs. Sigourney._

One there is above all others,
Well deserves the name of Friend;
His is love beyond a brother's,
Costly, free and knows no end.

Which of all our friends, to save us,
Could or would have shed his blood?
But our Jesus died to have us
Reconciled in Him to God.

When He lived on earth abasèd,
Friend of sinners was His name;
Now, above all glory raisèd,
He rejoices in the same.

Could we bear from one another
What He daily bears from us?
Yet this glorious Friend and Brother
Loves us though we treat Him thus.

Oh for grace our hearts to soften!
Teach us, Lord, at length to love!
We, alas! forget too often
What a Friend we have above.

--_Newton._

God moves in a mysterious way
His wonders to perform;
He plants His footsteps in the sea,
And rides upon the storm.

Deep in unfathomable mines
Of never-failing skill,
He treasures up His vast designs,
And works His sovereign will.

Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take;
The clouds ye so much dread
Are big with mercy, and will break
In blessings on your head.

Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust Him for His grace;
Behind a frowning providence
He hides a smiling face.

His purposes will ripen fast,
Unfolding every hour,
The bud may have a bitter taste,
But sweet will be the flower.

Blind unbelief is sure to err,
And scan His work in vain;
God is His own interpreter,
And he will make it plain.

--_Cowper._

Onward, Christian, though the region
Where thou art be drear and lone;
God has set a guardian legion
Very near thee; press thou on.

Listen, Christian; their hosanna
Rolleth o'er thee: "God is love,"
Write upon thy red-cross banner,
"Upward ever; heaven's above."

By the thorn-road, and none other,
Is the mount of vision won;
Tread it without shrinking, brother;
Jesus trod it; press thou on.

Be this world the wiser, stronger,
For thy life of pain and peace,
While it needs thee; oh! no longer
Pray thou for thy quick release.

Pray thou, Christian, daily rather,
That thou be a faithful son;
By the prayer of Jesus, "Father,
Not my will, but thine, be done."

--_Johnson._

THANKFULNESS.

My God, I thank Thee who hast made
The Earth so bright;
So full of splendor and of joy,
Beauty and light;
So many glorious things are here,
Noble and right!

I thank Thee, too, that Thou hast made
Joy to abound:
So many gentle thoughts and deeds
Circling us round,
That in the darkest spot of Earth
Some love is found.

I thank Thee _more_ than all our joy
Is touched with pain;
That shadows fall on brightest hours;
That thorns remain;
So that Earth's bliss may be our guide,
And not our chain.

For Thou who knowest, Lord, how soon
Our weak heart clings,
Hast given us joys, tender and true,
Yet all with wings,
So that we see, gleaming on high,
Diviner things!

I thank Thee, Lord, that Thou hast kept
The best in store;
We have enough, yet, not too much
To long for more:
A yearning for a deeper peace,
Not known before.

I thank Thee, Lord, that here our souls,
Though amply blest,
Can never find, although they seek,
A perfect rest,--
Nor ever shall, until they lean
On Jesus' breast!

--_Adelaide Procter._

Does the Gospel word proclaim
Rest for those that weary be?
Then, my soul put in thy claim--
Sure that promise speaks to thee!

Marks of grace I cannot show,
All polluted is my best;
But I weary am, I know,
And the weary long for rest.

Burdened with a load of sin,
Harassed with tormenting doubt,
Hourly conflicts from within,
Hourly crosses from without;--

All my little strength is gone,
Sink I must without supply;
Sure upon the earth is none
Can more weary be than I.

In the ark the weary dove
Found a welcome resting-place;
Thus my spirit longs to prove
Rest in Christ, the Ark of grace.

Tempest-tossed I long have been,
And the flood increases fast;
Open, Lord, and take me in,
Till the storm be overpast!

--_Newton._

My God, my Father, while I stray
Far from my home on life's rough way,
Oh, teach me from my heart to say,
"Thy will be done, Thy will be done!"

What though in love or grief I sigh
For friends beloved no longer nigh;
Submissive still would I reply,
"Thy will be done, Thy will be done!"

If thou shouldst call me to resign
What most I prize,--it ne'er was mine;
I only yield thee what was Thine:
"Thy will be done, Thy will be done!"

If but my fainting heart be blest
With Thy sweet Spirit for its guest,
My God, to Thee I leave the rest;
"Thy will be done, Thy will be done!"

--_C. Elliott._

THE SEEN AND THE UNSEEN.

ON THE GREAT EXHIBITION, 1851.

Ha! yon burst of crystal splendor,
Sunlight, starlight, blent in one;
Starlight set in arctic azure,
Sunlight from the burning zone!
Gold and silver, gems and marble,
All creation's jewelry;
Earth's uncovered waste of riches,
Treasures of the ancient sea.
Heir of glory,
What is that to thee and me?

Iris and Aurora braided--
How the woven colors shine!
Snow-gleams from an Alpine summit.
Torch-light from a spar-roofed mine.
Like Arabia's matchless palace,
Child of magic's strong decree,
One vast globe of living sapphire,
Floor, walls, columns, canopy.
Heir of glory,
What is that to thee and me?

Forms of beauty, shapes of wonder,
Trophies of triumphant toil;
Never Athens, Rome, Palmyra,
Gazed on such a costly spoil.
Dazzling the bewildered vision,
More than princely pomp we see:
What the blaze of the Alhambra,
Dome of emerald, to thee?
Heir of glory,
What is that to thee and me?

Farthest cities pour their riches,
Farthest empires muster here,
Art her jubilee proclaiming
To the nations far and near.
From the crowd in wonder gazing,
Science claims the prostrate knee;
This her temple, diamond-blazing,
Shrine of her idolatry.
Heir of glory,
What is that to thee and me?

Listen to her tale of wonder,
Of her plastic, potent spell;
'Tis a big and braggart story,
Yet she tells it fair and well.
She the gifted, gay magician,
Mistress of earth, air, and sea;
This majestic apparition,
Offspring of her sorcery.
Heir of glory,
What is that to thee and me?

What to that for which we're waiting
Is this glittering earthly toy?
Heavenly glory, holy splendor,
Sum of grandeur, sum of joy.
Not the gems that time can tarnish,
Not the hues that dim and die,
Not the glow that cheats the lover,
Shaded with mortality.
Heir of glory,
That shall be for thee and me!

Not the light that leaves us darker,
Nor the gleams that come and go,
Not the mirth whose end is madness,
Not the joy whose fruit is woe;
Not the notes that die at sunset,
Not the fashion of a day;
But the everlasting beauty,
And the endless melody.
Heir of glory,
That shall be for thee and me!

City of the pearl-bright portal;
City of the jasper wall;
City of the golden pavement;
Seat of endless festival.
City of Jehovah, Salem,
City of eternity,
To thy bridal-hall of gladness,
From this prison would I flee.
Heir of glory,
That shall be for thee and me!

Ah! with such strange spells around me,
Fairest of what earth calls fair,
How I need thy fairer image,
To undo the syren snare?
Lest the subtle serpent-tempter
Lure me with his radiant lie;
As if sin were sin no longer,
Life were no more vanity.
Heir of glory,
What is that to thee and me?

Yes, I need _thee_, heavenly city,
My low spirit to upbear;
Yes, I need thee--earth's enchantments
So beguile me with their glare.
Let me see thee, then these fetters
Break asunder; I am free;
Then this pomp no longer chains me;
Faith has won the victory.
Heir of glory,
That shall be for thee and me?

Soon where earthly beauty blinds not,
No excess of brilliance palls,
Salem, city of the holy,
We shall be within thy walls!
There, beside you crystal river,
There, beneath life's wondrous tree,
There, with naught to cloud or sever--
Ever with the Lamb to be!
Heir of glory,
That shall be for thee and me!

--_Horatius Bonar._

I am far frae my hame, an' I'm weary aftenwhiles,
For the langed-far hame-bringin', an' my Father's welcome smiles,
An' I'll ne'er be fu' content, until mine een do see
The gowden gates o' heav'n an' my ain countrie.
The earth is fleck'd wi' flowers, mony-tinted, fresh an' gay,
The birdies warble blithely, for my Faither made them sae:
But these sights an' these soun's will as naething be to me,
When I hear the angels singin' in my ain countrie.

I've His gude word of promise that some gladsome day, the King
To His ain royal palace His banished hame will bring;
Wi' een an' wi' hert rinning ower, we shall see
The King in His beauty, in oor ain countrie.
My sins hae been mony, an' my sorrows hae been sair,
But there they'll never vex me, nor be remembered mair
For His bluid has made me white, and His han' shall dry my e'e,
When He brings me hame at last, to my ain countrie.

Sae little noo I ken, o' yon blessed, bonnie place,
I only ken it's Hame, whaur we shall see His face:
It wad surely be eneuch for ever mair to be
In the glory o' His presence, in oor ain countrie.
Like a bairn to his mither, a wee birdie to its nest,
I wad fain' be gangin' noo, unto my Saviour's breast,
For He gathers in His bosom witless, worthless lambs like me,
And carries them Himsel', to His ain countrie.

He is faithfu' that hath promised, an' He'll surely come again,
He'll keep His tryst wi' me, at what hour I dinna ken;
But He bids me still to wait, an' ready aye to be,
To gang at ony moment to my ain countrie.
Sae I'm watching aye, an' singin' o' my hame as I wait
For the soun'ing o' His footfa' this side the gowden gate:
God gie His grace to ilka ane wha' listens noo to me,
That we a' may gang in gladness to oor ain countrie.

(_Unidentified._)

THE SINNER'S FRIEND.

O thou, the contrite sinner's Friend,
Who loving, lov'st them to the end,
On this alone my hopes depend,
That Thou wilt plead for me!

When, weary in the Christian race,
Far-off appears my resting-place,
And fainting, I mistrust Thy grace--
Then, Saviour, plead for me!

When I have err'd and gone astray
Afar from Thine own and Wisdom's way,
And see no glimmering guiding ray--
Still, Saviour, plead for me!

When Satan, by my sins made bold,
Strives from Thy cross to loose my hold,
Then with Thy pitying arms enfold,
And plead, oh, plead for me!

And when my dying hour draws near,
Darken'd with anguish, guilt, and fear,
Then to my fainting sight appear,
Pleading in Heaven for me!

When the full light of Heavenly day
Reveals my sins in dread array,
Say, Thou hast wash'd them all away;
Oh, say, Thou plead'st for me!

--_Charlotte Elliott._

EVENING PRAYER AT A GIRL'S SCHOOL.

"Now in thy youth, beseech of Him, Who giveth, upbraiding not, That His light in thy heart become not dim, And His love be unforgot; And thy God, in the darkest of days, will be Greenness, and beauty, and strength to thee."

--_Bernard Barton._

Hush! 'tis a holy hour--the quiet room
Seems like a temple, while yon soft lamp sheds
A faint and starry radiance, through the gloom
And the sweet stillness, down on bright young heads,
With all their clustering locks, untouched by care,
And bowed, as flowers are bowed with night--in prayer.

Gaze on,--'tis lovely! childhood's lip and cheek,
Mantling beneath its earnest brow of thought--
Gaze--yet what seest thou in those fair, and meek,
And fragile things, as but for sunshine wrought?
Thou seest what grief must nurture for the sky,
What death must fashion for eternity!

Oh! joyous creatures, that will sink to rest,
Lightly, when those pure orisons are done,
As birds with slumber's honey-dew oppressed,
'Midst the dim folded leaves, at set of sun--
Lift up your hearts! though yet no sorrow lies
Dark in the summer-heaven of those clear eyes;

Though fresh within your breasts th' untroubled springs
Of hope make melody where'er ye tread;
And o'er your sleep bright shadows, from the wings
Of spirits visiting but youth, be spread;
Yet in those flute-like voices, mingling low,
Is woman's tenderness--how soon her woe!

Her lot is on you--silent tears to weep,
And patient smiles to wear through suffering's hour,
And sunless riches, from affection's deep,
To pour on broken reeds--a wasted shower?
And to make idols, and to find them clay,
And to bewail that worship--therefore pray!

Her lot is on you--to be found untired,
Watching the stars out by the bed of pain,
With a pale cheek, and yet a brow inspired,
And a true heart of hope, though hope be vain.
Meekly to bear with wrong, to cheer decay,
And oh! to love through all things--therefore pray!

And take the thought of this calm vesper time,
With its low murmuring sounds and silvery light,
On through the dark days fading from their prime,
As a sweet dew to keep your souls from blight.
Earth will forsake--oh! happy to have given
Th' unbroken heart's first fragrance unto Heaven.

--_Mrs. Hemans._

I worship thee, sweet Will of God!
And all thy ways adore;
And every day I live, I seem
To love thee more and more.

Thou wert the end, the blessed rule
Of our Saviour's toils and tears;
Thou wert the passion of His Heart
Those three-and-thirty years.

And He hath breathed into my soul
A special love of thee,
A love to lose my will in His,
And by that loss be free.

I love to see thee bring to nought
The plans of wily men;
When simple hearts outwit the wise,
Oh thou art loveliest then!

The headstrong world, it presses hard
Upon the church full oft,
And then how easily thou turn'st
The hard ways into soft.

I love to kiss each print where thou
Hast set thine unseen feet;
I cannot fear thee, blessèd will,
Thine empire is so sweet.

When obstacles and trials seem
Like prison-walls to be,
I do the little I can do,
And leave the rest to thee.

I know not what it is to doubt;
My heart is ever gay;
I run no risk, for come what will,
Thou always hast thy way.

I have no cares, O blessèd will,
For all my cares are thine;
I live in triumph, Lord, for thou
Hast made thy triumphs mine.

And when it seems no chance or change
From grief can set me free,
Hope finds its strength in helplessness,
And gayly waits on thee.

Man's weakness waiting upon God
Its end can never miss,
For men on earth no work can do
More angel-like than this.

Ride on, ride on triumphantly,
Thou glorious Will! ride on;
Faith's pilgrim sons behind thee take
The road that thou hast gone.

He always wins who sides with God,
To him no chance is lost;
God's will is sweetest to him when
It triumphs at his cost.

Ill, that God blesses, is our good,
And unblest good is ill;
And all is right that seems most wrong,
If it be his dear will!

--_F. W. Faber._

THE PEACE OF GOD.

We ask for Peace, O Lord!
Thy children ask Thy peace;
Not what the world calls rest,
That toil and care should cease,
That through bright sunny hours
Calm Life should fleet away,
And tranquil night should fade
In smiling day;--
It is not for such Peace that we would pray.

We ask for Peace, O Lord!
Yet not to stand secure,
Girt round with iron Pride,
Contented to endure:
Crushing the gentle strings
That human hearts should know,
Untouched by others' joy
Or others' woe;--
Thou, O dear Lord, wilt never teach us so.

We ask Thy Peace, O Lord!
Through storm, and fear, and strife,
To light and guide us on,
Through a long, struggling life:
While no success or gain
Shall cheer the desperate fight,
Or nerve, what the world calls,
Our wasted might:--
Yet pressing through the darkness to the light.

It is Thine own, O Lord,
Who toil while others sleep,
Who sow with loving care
What other hands shall reap;
They lean on Thee entranced,
In calm and perfect rest:
Give us that Peace, O Lord,
Divine and blest,
Thou keepest for those hearts who love Thee best.

--_Adelaide Procter._

LISTENING IN DARKNESS--SPEAKING IN LIGHT.

"What I tell you in darkness, that speak ye in light." MATT. x. 27.

He hath spoken in the darkness
In the silence of the night,
Spoken sweetly of the Father.
Words of life and love and light,
Floating through the sombre stillness
Came the loved and loving Voice,
Speaking peace and solemn gladness,
That His children might rejoice.
What He tells thee in the darkness--
Songs He giveth in the night--
Rise and speak it in the morning,
Rise and sing them in the light!

He hath spoken in the darkness,
In the silence of thy grief,
Sympathy so deep and tender,
Mighty for thy heart-relief.
Speaking in thy night of sorrow
Words of comfort and of calm,
Gently on thy wounded spirit
Pouring true and healing balm.
What He tells thee in the darkness,
Weary watcher for the day,
Grateful lip and life should utter
When the shadows flee away.

He is speaking in the darkness,
Though thou canst not see His face,
More than angels ever needed,
Mercy, pardon, love and grace.
Speaking of the many mansions,
Where, in safe and holy rest,
Thou shalt be with Him forever,
Perfectly and always blest.
What He tells thee in the darkness,
Whispers through Time's lonely night,
Thou shalt speak in glorious praises
In the everlasting light.

--_Frances Ridley Havergal._

THE MORNING STAR.

There is a morning star, my soul,
There is a morning star;
'Twill soon be near and bright, tho' now,
It seem so dim and far.
And when time's stars have come and gone,
And every mist of earth has flown,
That better star shall rise
On this world's clouded skies,
To shine forever!

The night is well nigh spent, my soul,
The night is well nigh spent,
And soon above our heads shall shine
A glorious firmament;
A sky all glad, and pure, and bright,
The Lamb, once slain, its perfect light;
A star without a cloud,
Whose light no mists enshroud,
Descending never.

--_Horatius Bonar._

God of the world! Thy glories shine,
Through earth and heaven, with rays divine:
Thy smile gives beauty to the flower,
Thine anger to the tempest power.

God of our lives! the throbbing heart
Doth at Thy beck its action start--
Throbs on, obedient to Thy will,
Or ceases, at Thy fatal chill.

God of eternal life! Thy love
Doth every stain of sin remove;
The cross, the cross--its hallowed light
Shall drive from earth her cheerless night.

God of all goodness! to the skies
Our hearts in grateful anthems rise;
And to Thy service shall be given
The rest of life--the whole of heaven.

--_S. S. Cutting._

There is a God!--all nature speaks,
Through earth, and air, and seas, and skies;
See! from the clouds His glory breaks,
When the first beams of morning rise.

The rising sun, serenely bright,
O'er the wide world's extended frame,
Inscribes, in characters of light,
His mighty Maker's glorious name.

Ye curious minds, who roam abroad,
And trace creation's wonders o'er,
Confess the footsteps of your God,
And bow before Him, and adore.

--_Steele._

Lord, how mysterious are Thy ways!
How blind are we! how mean our praise!
Thy steps, can mortal eyes explore?
'Tis ours to wonder and adore.

Great God! I would not ask to see
What in my coming life shall be;
Enough for me if love divine,
At length through every cloud shall shine.

Are darkness and distress my share?
Then let me trust Thy guardian care;
If light and bliss attend my days
Then let my future hours be praise.

Yet this my soul desires to know,
Be this my only wish below,
That Christ be mine;--this great request
Grant, bounteous God, and I am blest!

--_Steele._

THE SHADOW OF THE ROCK.

The Shadow of the Rock!
Stay, Pilgrim, stay!
Night treads upon the heels of day;
There is no other resting-place this way.
The Rock is near,
The well is clear--
Rest in the Shadow of the Rock.

The Shadow of the Rock!
The desert wide
Lies round thee like a trackless tide,
In waves of sand forlornly multiplied.
The sun is gone,
Thou art alone--
Rest in the Shadow of the Rock!

The Shadow of the Rock!
All come alone;
All, ever since the sun hath shone,
Who traveled by this road have come alone.
Be of good cheer--
A home is here--
Rest in the Shadow of the Rock?

The Shadow of the Rock!
Night veils the land;
How the palms whisper as they stand!
How the well tinkles faintly through the sand!
Cool water take
Thy thirst to slake--
Rest in the Shadow of the Rock!

The Shadow of the Rock!
Abide! Abide!
This Rock moves ever at thy side,
Pausing to welcome thee at eventide.
Ages are laid
Beneath its shade--
Rest in the Shadow of the Rock!

The Shadow of the Rock!
Always at hand,
Unseen it cools the noon-tide land,
And quells the fire that flickers in the sand.
It comes in sight
Only at night--
Rest in the Shadow of the Rock!

The Shadow of the Rock!
'Mid skies storm-riven
It gathers shadows out of heaven,
And holds them o'er us all night cool and even.
Through the charmed air
Dew falls not there--
Rest in the Shadow of the Rock!

The Shadow of the Rock!
To angels' eyes
This Rock its shadow multiplies,
And at this hour in countless places lies.
One Rock, one shade,
O'er thousands laid--
Rest in the Shadow of the Rock!

The Shadow of the Rock!
To weary feet,
That have been diligent and fleet,
The sleep is deeper and the shade more sweet.
O weary, rest!
Thou art sore pressed--
Rest in the shadow of the Rock!

The Shadow of the Rock!
Thy bed is made;
Crowds of tired souls like thine are laid
This night beneath the self-same placid shade.
They who rest here
Wake with Heaven near--
Rest in the Shadow of the Rock!

The Shadow of the Rock!
Pilgrim! sleep sound;
In night's swift hours with silent bound,
The Rock will put thee over leagues of ground,
Gaining more way
By night than day--
Rest in the Shadow of the Rock!

The Shadow of the Rock!
One day of pain,
Thou scarce wilt hope the Rock to gain,
Yet there wilt sleep thy last sleep on the plain;
And only wake
In Heaven's daybreak--
Rest in the Shadow of the Rock.

--_F. W. Faber._

ELEGY.

Sleep on my love, in thy cold bed,
Never to be disquieted!
My last good night! Thou wilt not wake
Till I thy fate shall overtake,
Till age, or grief, or sickness, must
Marry my body to that dust
It so much loves, and fill the room
My heart keeps empty in thy tomb.
Stay for me there; I will not fail
To meet thee in that narrow vale;
And think not much of my delay:
I am already on the way,
And follow thee with all the speed
Desire can make, or sorrows breed.
For hark! my heart, like a soft drum,
Beats my approach, tells thee I come;
And howe'er long my marches be,
I shall at last lie down by thee.

* * * * *

Each minute is a short degree,
And every hour a step toward thee;
At night when I betake to rest,
Next morn I rise nearer my west
Of life, almost by eight hours' sail,
Than when sleep breathed his drowsy gale.
The thought of this bids me go on,
And wait my dissolution
With hope and comfort. Dear, forgive
The crime: I am content to live
Divided, with but half a heart,
Till we shall meet and never part.

--_Henry King._

REST YONDER.

This is not my place of resting
Mine's a city yet to come;
Onwards to it I am hasting--
On to my eternal home.

In it all is light and glory,
O'er it shines a nightless day;
Every trace of sin's sad story,
All the curse, has passed away.

There the Lamb, our Shepherd, leads us,
By the streams of life along;
On the freshest pastures feeds us,
Turns our sighing into song.

Soon we pass this desert dreary,
Soon we bid farewell to pain;
Never more be sad or weary,
Never, never sin again.

--_Horatius Bonar._

Soldiers of Christ, arise,
And gird your armor on,
Strong in the strength which God supplies,
Through His eternal Son:

Strong in the Lord of hosts,
And in His mighty power,
Who in the strength of Jesus trusts,
Is more than conqueror.

Leave no unguarded place,
No weakness of the soul;
Take every virtue, every grace,
And fortify the whole.

Stand, then, in His great might,
With all His strength endued,
And take, to arm you for the fight,
The panoply of God:

That, having all things done,
And all your conflicts past,
You may o'ercome thro' Christ alone,
And stand complete at last.

From strength to strength go on;
Wrestle, and fight, and pray;
Tread all the powers of darkness down,
And win the well-fought day.

--_C. Wesley._

Thy will be done! I will not fear
The fate provided by Thy love;
Though clouds and darkness shroud me here,
I know that all is bright above.

The stars of heaven are shining on,
Though these frail eyes are dimmed with tears;
The hopes of earth indeed are gone,
But are not ours the immortal years?

Father! forgive the heart that clings,
Thus trembling, to the things of time;
And bid my soul, on angel wings,
Ascend into a purer clime.

--_J. Roscoe._

No, no, it is not dying
To go unto our God,
This gloomy earth forsaking,
Our journey homeward taking
Along the starry road.

No, no, it is not dying
Heaven's citizen to be;
A crown immortal wearing,
And rest unbroken sharing,
From care and conflict free.

No, no, it is not dying
To hear this gracious word,
"Receive a Father's blessing,
Forever more possessing
The favor of thy Lord."

No, no, it is not dying
The Shepherd's voice to know;
His sheep he ever leadeth,
His peaceful flock he feedeth,
Where living pastures grow.

No, no, it is not dying
To wear a lordly crown;
Among God's people dwelling,
The glorious triumph swelling
Of Him whose sway we own.

Oh, no, this is not dying,
Thou Saviour of mankind!
There, streams of love are flowing,
No hindrance ever knowing;
Here drops alone we find.

--_Malan._

Watchman! tell us of the night,
What its signs of promise are.--
Traveler! o'er yon mountain's height,
See that glory-beaming star!--
Watchman! does its beauteous ray
Aught of hope or joy foretell?
Traveler! yes; it brings the day--
Promised day of Israel.

Watchman! tell us of the night,
Higher yet that stars ascends.--
Traveler! blessedness and light,
Peace and truth its course portends!
Watchman! will its beams alone
Gild the spot that gave them birth?--
Traveler! ages are its own,
See, it bursts o'er all the earth.

Watchman! tell us of the night,
For the morning seems to dawn.--
Traveler! darkness takes its flight,
Doubt and terror are withdrawn.--
Watchman! let thy wanderings cease;
Hie thee to thy quiet home.--
Traveler! lo! the Prince of Peace,
Lo! the son of God is come.

--_Bowring._

THE SPIRIT ACCOMPANYING THE WORD OF GOD.

O spirit of the living God,
In all Thy plenitude of grace,
Where'er the foot of man hath trod,
Descend on our apostate race.

Give tongues of fire, and hearts of love,
To preach the reconciling word;
Give power and unction from above,
Where'er the joyful sound is heard.

Be darkness, at Thy coming, light;
Confusion--order, in Thy path;
Souls without strength inspire with might,
Bid mercy triumph over wrath.

O, Spirit of the Lord! prepare
All the round earth her God to meet;
Breathe Thou abroad like morning air,
Till hearts of stone begin to beat.

Baptize the nations; far and nigh,
The triumphs of the cross record;
The name of Jesus glorify,
Till every kindred call Him Lord.

God from eternity hath willed,
All flesh shall His salvation see;
So be the Father's love fulfilled,
The Saviour's sufferings crowned through Thee.

--_James Montgomery._

THE CLOUDLESS.

No shadows yonder!
All light and song;
Each day I wonder,
And say, How long
Shall time me sunder
From that dear throng?

No weeping yonder?
All fled away;
While here I wander
Each weary day,
And sigh as I ponder
My long, long stay.

No partings yonder!
Time and space never
Again shall sunder;
Hearts cannot sever;
Dearer and fonder
Hands clasp for ever.

None wanting yonder,
Bought by the Lamb!
All gathered under
The evergreen palm;
Loud as night's thunder
Ascends the glad psalm.

_--Horatius Bonar._

COMFORT.

Hast thou o'er the clear heaven of thy soul
Seen tempests roll?
Hast thou watched all the hopes thou wouldst have won
Fade, one by one?
Wait till the clouds are past, then raise thine eyes
To bluer skies.

Hast thou gone sadly through a dreary night,
And found no light,
No guide, no star, to cheer thee through the plain,
No friend, save pain?
Wait, and thy soul shall see, when most forlorn,
Rise a new morn.

Hast thou beneath another's stern control
Bent thy sad soul,
And wasted sacred hopes and precious tears?
Yet calm thy fears,
For thou canst gain, even from the bitterest part,
A stronger heart.

Has Fate o'erwhelmed thee with some sudden blow?
Let thy tears flow;
But know when storms are past, the heavens appear
More pure, more clear;
And hope, when farthest from their shining rays,
For brighter days.

Hast thou found life a cheat, and worn in vain
Its iron chain?
Has thy soul bent beneath earth's heavy bond?
Look thou beyond;
If life is bitter--_there_ forever shine
Hopes more divine.

Art thou alone, and does thy soul complain
It lives in vain?
Not vainly does he live who can endure.
O be thou sure,
That he who hopes and suffers here, can earn
A sure return.

Hast thou found naught within thy troubled life
Save inward strife?
Hast thou found all she promised thee, Deceit,
And Hope a cheat?
Endure, and there shall dawn within thy breast
Eternal rest!

_--Adelaide Procter._

"MASTER, SAY ON!"

Master, speak! Thy servant heareth,
Waiting for Thy gracious word,
Longing for Thy voice that cheereth;
Master! let it now be heard.
I am listening, Lord, for Thee;
What hast Thou to say to me?

Often through my heart is pealing
Other voices, Lord, than Thine,
Many an unwilled echo stealing
From the walls of this Thy shrine:
Let Thy longed-for accents fall;
Master, speak! and silence all.

Master, speak! I do not doubt Thee,
Though so tearfully I plead;
Saviour, Shepherd! Oh, without Thee
Life would be a blank indeed!
But I long for fuller light,
Deeper love, and clearer sight.

Resting on the 'faithful saying,'
Trusting what Thy gospel saith,
On Thy written promise staying
All my hope in life and death,
Yet I long for something more
From Thy love's exhaustless store.

Speak to me by name, O Master,
Let me _know_ it is to me;
Speak, that I may follow faster,
With a step more firm and free,
Where the Shepherd leads the flock,
In the shadow of the Rock.

Master, speak! I kneel before Thee,
Listening, longing, waiting still;
Oh, how long shall I implore Thee
This petition to fulfil!
Hast Thou not one word for me?
Must my prayer unanswered be?

Master, speak! Though least and lowest
Let me not unheard depart;
Master, speak! for oh! Thou knowest
All the yearning of my heart,
Knowest all its truest need;
Speak! and make me blest indeed.

Master, speak! and make me ready,
When Thy voice is truly heard,
With obedience glad and steady
Still to follow every word.
I am listening, Lord, for Thee;
Master speak, oh, speak to me!

_--Frances Ridley Havergal._

THE LEPER.

St. Luke. Chapter xvii.

Room for the leper! "Room!" And, as he came,
The cry pass'd on--"Room for the leper! Room!"
Sunrise was slanting on the city gates
Rosy and beautiful, and from the hills
The early risen poor were coming in,
Duly and cheerfully to their toil, and up
Rose the sharp hammer's clink, and the far hum
Of moving wheels and multitudes astir,
And all that in a city murmur swells--
Unheard but by the watcher's weary ear,
Aching with night's dull silence, or the sick
Hailing the welcome light and sounds that chase
The death-like images of the dark away.
"Room for the leper!" And aside they stood--
Matron, and child, and pitiless manhood--all
Who met him on his way--and let him pass.
And onward through the open gate he came,
A leper with the ashes on his brow,
Sackcloth about his loins, and on his lip
A covering, stepping painfully and slow,
And with a difficult utterance, like one
Whose heart is like an iron nerve put down,
Crying, "Unclean! Unclean!"

'Twas now the first
Of the Judean autumn, and the leaves,
Whose shadows lay so still upon his path,
Had put their beauty forth beneath the eye
Of Judah's loftiest noble. He was young,
And eminently beautiful, and life
Mantled in eloquent fullness on his lip,
And sparkled in his glance; and in his mien
There was a gracious pride that every eye
Follow'd with benisons--and this was he!
With the soft airs of summer there had come
A torpor on his frame, which not the speed
Of his best barb, nor music, nor the blast
Of the bold huntsman's horn, nor aught that stirs
The spirit to its bent, might drive away.
The blood beat not as wont within his veins;
Dimness crept o'er his eye; a drowsy sloth
Fetter'd his limbs like palsy, and his mien,
With all its loftiness, seem'd struck with eld.
Even his voice was changed--a languid moan
Taking the place of the clear silver key;
And brain and sense grew faint, as if the light
And very air were steep'd in sluggishness.
He strove with it awhile, as manhood will,
Ever too proud for weakness, till the rein
Slacken'd within his grasp, and in its poise
The arrowy jereed like an aspen shook.
Day after day, he lay as if in sleep.
His skin grew dry and bloodless, and white scales,
Circled with livid purple, cover'd him.
And then his nails grew black, and fell away
From the dull flesh about them, and the hues
Deepen'd beneath the hard unmoisten'd scales,
And from their edges grew the rank white hair,
--And Helon was a leper!

Day was breaking,
When at the altar of the temple stood
The holy priest of God. The incense lamp
Burn'd with a struggling light, and a low chant
Swell'd through the hollow arches of the roof
Like an articulate wail, and there, alone,
Wasted to ghastly thinness, Helon knelt.
The echoes of the melancholy strain
Died in the distant aisles, and he rose up,
Struggling with weakness, and bow'd down his head
Unto the sprinkled ashes, and put off
His costly raiment for the leper's garb;
And with the sackcloth round him, and his lip
Hid in a loathsome covering, stood still,
Waiting to hear his doom:--

Depart! depart, O child
Of Israel, from the temple of thy God!
For He has smote thee with His chastening rod;
And to the desert-wild,
From all thou lov'st, away thy feet must flee,
That from thy plague His people may be free.

Depart! and come not near
The busy mart, the crowded city, more;
Nor set thy foot a human threshold o'er;
And stay thou not to hear
Voices that call thee in the way: and fly
From all who in the wilderness pass by.

Wet not thy burning lip
In streams that to a human dwelling glide;
Nor rest thee where the covert fountains hide;
Nor kneel thee down to dip
The water where the pilgrim bends to drink,
By desert well or river's grassy brink;