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EATON Acadian Legends and Lyrics The Heart of the Creeds, Historical Religion in the Light of Modem Thought The Church of England in Nova Scotia and the Tory Clergy of THE Revolution Tales of a Garrison Town (with C. L. Betts) Acadian Ballads and De Soto's Last Dream Poems in Notable Anthologies Recollections of a Georgia Loyalist, Edited and Introduced Educational Works, Compiled and Edited Family Historical Monographs POEMS OF THE CHRISTIAN YEAR POEMS OF THE CHRISTIAN YEAR BY ARTHUR WENTWORTH EATON NEW YORK THOMAS WHITTAKER M C M V Afp6 70298 Capjlilht, 1905 By Ahhui Wtmwomi HAWLnw Eatok Jll Kitht lUurfd PuUiihed NoTCmber, 1905 TO MARY LAWRENCE HAUGHTON CONTENTS AD^NT When Saims OF Old ,, CHRISTMAS There Came A Kino j, Eder's Watch Tower j. The Angels' Song j, Happy Christmas Days of Old ... 27 1 Know A Vast Cathedral 29 They Tell Us Only Rustic Shep- herds Heard ,, Christmas Prophecy ,, iiPIPHANY Wise Men From THE Orient Came.... 35 SEPTUAGESIMA, SEXAGESIMA, QUIN- QUAGESIMA Preparation 9 CONTENTS LENT The Lbntbn-tioe Lbntbn Hope The Innb* Court EASTER White Festivai of Easter j, O Easter Queen . Easter Flowers -g All the SuitEN Sorrow of the Nations » Easter-tide f^ At Last With Soft Maonoua Blooms 6a ASCENSION The CoN(iuERiNo Life g- WHITSUN-TIDE O Spirit From the Eternal Deep. ... 7, TRINITY God's Manifoldness -- My Purest Longings Spf ig g, O Love Divine <> 10 CONTENTS TRINITY (Continued) ,,^0, SlKAl AND THE PlAIN gr Rbiionation gg iMMORTALirr. gg Hi Understaodi QQ Thy PMsrr oj Pray For The Dead g^ SOMBTIMB gg I'l ' t ADVENT II f WHEN SAINTS OF OLD IIT'HEN saints of old sad vigil kept Beside the brooks of Babylon, And swathed in sackcloth, silent wept Because the light of Heaven was gone. Some prophet old, in desert dress. Would raise his rugged voice and cry: "Why sit ye here in such distrev i Ye ask deliverance, it is nigh. Ye crave a monarch who shall show Compassion for the suffering poor. That sceptred king ye soon shall know. His chariot wheels are at the door. One starlit night a little child, The King so long expected, came. To still the sea of passion wild. The sins that darken life to shame. m 1 1 I h { POEMS OF THE CHRISTIAN YEAR Deep in the conscience of the race To light red judgment fires, whose gleam Should penetrate the darkest place Of human thought, or deed, or dream. His throne was laid in law and love. The crown he wore was righteousness. Of the symbolic sacret! dove His signet had the sole impress. Thus came he once, but every age Beholds that sovereign come again. The war with wrong afresh to wage. The love to seek of sorrowing men. And while we sit in vigil sad Beside our brooks of Babylon, And mourn because the world is mad. And Truth's majestic empire done, God's prophets, as in ages old In Judah and in Galilee, Proclaim that lust and love of gold Shall not enthroned forever be. But humbled to their rightful place Of thralls and subject powers, shall stand Subdued and meek before his face Who sits at last in sole command; i6 WHEN SAINTS OF OLD That all the lies men love shall flee Like ghosts that dread the approaching sun, Whene'er the king in majesty Declares the reign of error done; That redder judgment fire, shall glow. And ye* jweet love increase in power, Till Time's mixed trumpets cease to blow And earth has reached its final hour. '7 f THERE GAME A KING 'T^HERE came a king to Bethlehem town. Two thousand years gone by, Who had no ermine robe or crown To mark His royalty, Who found no throng to pave His road With palms, or carpets gay, Nor palace rich for His abode. Nor courtiers to obey; Yet empire vast awaited Him On mountain, moor, and main; Even Europe's tangled forests dim Held subjects for His reign. And soon confusion ceased to hold Uninterrupted power. And some of earth's oppressions old Began to cringe and cower. 21 w POEMS OF THE CHRISTIAN YEAR There came a King to Bethlehem town. Two thouiand years gone by, And angels from the heavens spoke down A royal prophecy, That while the red sun's central flame Should warm the peopled spheres, Though every other kingly name Lay dead among dead years. This King should hold His sute above The weakness of decay. Because the eternal power of love Should base His throne alway. There came a King to Bethlehem town, Two thousand years gone by. And still He reigns, and still speaks down The angels' prophecy, And some fair century yet to rise His power complete shall grow, And all earth's sceptered cruelties Before His throne lie low. 12 EDER'S WATCH-TOW'ER T LOVE the soft incoming tide That breaks in showers of silver spray, I love the dawn that opens wide The floodgates of the living day, I love the harvest voice that speaks From each green blade of growing com, I love the first faint beam that breaks Across the heart in sorrow's mom. But fairer than the silver tide, And brighter than the morning's flood The light on Bethlehem's meadows wide Where Eder's ancient watch-tower stood. O little town of Uethlehem Where Christ, the perfect man, was born. What healing balm thou hast for them Whose feet are tired and travel-wotn, *3 i POEMS OF THE CHRISTIAN YEAR The Angeli' long thy ihepherdi heard Maket mu»ic itill among the years, Thou driest with thy magic word The piteous fount of human tears; O fairer than the silver tide And brighter than the morning's flood The hght across thy meadows wide. Where Eder's ancient watch-tower stood. THE ANGELS' SONG ■fl^HEN ancient faiths the Orient held ' " Were crumbling to decay, And blind mythologies of eld In mournful ruin lay, The hungry-hearted world was given Truth unrevealed too long. And from the glittering gates of heaven Swept forth the angels' song. When o'er the blossoming fields of thought An autumn blight has come, When every oracle we sought In happier days is dumb. Sometimes the spaces wide are riven With strains delayed too long, And from the glittering gates of heaven Comes down the angels' song. When life shrieks discords everywhere And passion's dreadful cries il- i POEMS OF THE CHRISTIAN Y'.AR Make mad diiharmony in the air And rend the tranquil ikiei, Sweet, iilvery flute-notei God has itriven To make ui hear too long Steal from the glittering gate* of heaven,— The bleued angels' song. O Christly choristers that first Sang down to Syrian men Let your melodious music burst Upon the world again. Come to our spirits helpless driven On turbulent rides too long, Then shall we see the gates of heaven And hear the angels' song. 26 O HAPPY CHRISTMAS DAYS OF OLD r\ HAPPY Christmas days of old, When chimes rang out across the snow That lay its crust on wood and wold, On hills above, on fields below. O happy Christmas days of old. When carols clear by children sung Awoke the stariit evening cold And through the silent hamlet rung. O happy Christmas days of old. When holly from the rafters fell, And bells in moss-grown towers tolled The midnight hymn men loved so well. O happy Christmas days of old. When every castle far and near Its stem portcullis upward rolled And welcomed all who came with cheer. M 'i' POEMS OF IHE CHRISTIAN YEAR O happy Christmas days of old. When poorest beggars ate their fill, When for the time the meek grew bold. And everywhere was right good will. O happy Christmas days of old When yule clogs burnedand flamesleaped high, And round the hearth good people told Tales of the Christ's nativity. O happy, happy night of old. When ere the worid's first Christmas morn. Kings of the East brought gifts of gold To lay before the newly-born. O happy Christmas days of old, O night that gladdened all below. Let your sweet spirit us enfold. Till perfect Christmas joys we knowl I 28 I KNOW A VAST CATHEDRAL J KNOW a vast Cathedral, With sculptured walls and high, And windows dight with eveiy hght That decks the sunset sky; And towers enwrapped with ivy. And bells forever glad. That peal and peal a future weal To man, oppressed and sad. I know a vast Cathedral, Outside, a thing of grace. But loveliness none can express In its interior space; It is the Christ's Religion, And he that enters there Finds truth long sealed at last revealed- Aye, Heaven itself laid bare. Its central tower is Christmas, And thence melodious chimes 29 h POEMS OF THE CHRISTTAN YEAR Each year ring out the death of doubt, The strifes of ancient times; Ring in with exultation The truth men fail to see, That following right brings truest might, That love gives liberty. Best faith of all the ages, Great temple, ivy-grown. With windows dight with every light That decks the Eternal Throne, Down from thy central tower. Let Heaven's sweet chimes to-day Ring loud and fast, till men at last Keep well God's Christmas Day. 30 THEY TELL US ONLY RUSTIC SHEPHERDS HEARD "Such muric (u 'di laid) Before wii nerer mide, But whtn of old the lont of morning iung." — MllTON. TPHEY tell us only rustic shepherds heard The song of angel choirs, in Palestine, That strange, momentous night of Jesus' birth The song that welcomed in the great new-born- A few rude men, whose brows had never worn The poorest honors people prize on earth And grasp so greedily and think so fine; To them alone was hymned God's gracious Word. In every age that song is oftenest heard By natural men, who shun ambition's strife Who would be happy wandering o'er the plain With only trees and flowers and birds and sheep; Who work for daily bread, and never weep Save with real sorrow or for genuine pain. To such, in western as in orient life, God's angels love to hymn His gracious Word. 3' • "I HI n in I .'I CHRISTMAS PROPHECY CILVERY-BEARDED, bent, and gray, The Old Year passeth swift away. Yet the ringers he keeps in his belfiy tower Peal no dirge for his waning power. He is bidding them ring so joyously. Can the Year of his end forgetful be ? "Ah, no," he says, "I am old and worn But the young Christ-life to-day is bom; "I have led the world to its Christmas-tide, I have opened the door of Heaven wide. And bells of the ages hung on high Are chiming out God's charity. "O welcome, then, the Bethlehem Boy, Sing ai his cradle songs of joy. Wreathe for his altars holly red. For the shames of earth at last are dead." 3a EPIPHANY WISE MEN FROM THE ORIENT CAME "IX^ISE men from the Orient came To the manger where Christ lay, Knelt with gladness, not with shame. By the baby's bed of hay. Ermine robes and quilts of down Are the right of infant Icings, Only one poor mantle brown O'er her child sweet Maiy flings; Can so mean a cradle hide What these Eastern Magi seek ? Ah, the heart forgets its pride When the intellect is meek; They have striven in many lands To supply their famished souls, Crossed, perhaps, Arabia's sands, Wandered sadly toward the poles, 35 i POEMS OF THE CHRISTIAN YEAR But success their search has crowned Not till, tired and travel-worn, They have learned that Truth is found Oftenest in a manger bom. So we wander blind and poor, Hungry-hearted, sick with sin. Till at last some humble door Of God's mystery shuts us inj Stables then like castles are. Lowly men like princes bom. Glad are we when any star Heralds any Christmas mom. lii 36 SEPTUAGESIMA, SEXAGESIMA, QUINQUAGESIMA ,1 'I' 11 PREPARATION II^HO does not love the tranquil mystery Of twilight, when the day is almost spent; Who welcomes not the sacred Sundays three That usher in the sober fast of Lent! One calls to temperance and self-control And bids us yield whatever clogs or maims, That we may win in contests of the soul As strong Greek youths won in theOlympian games; One shows Truth's tender seeds, in soft embrace Of fertile soil spring up to leaf and flower; Or, unbedewed by love, unsunned by grace. Fail in unfriendly earth for want of power. One points to where, securely throned on high Above moralities, howe'er divine, Sits god-like Love, pure-minded Charity, And makes us gladly worship at her shrine; 39 POEMS OF THE CHRISTIAN YEAR All pave the way preued long by Chriidan feet From natural joy to that delightful shade Where purple penitential flowers grow sweet, And perfume all the air, and never fade. O calm pre-Lenten days, j-our lessons deep We would be taught; so God should give us mirth For mourning, wake our souls from sluggish sleep. And help us walk in heaven while yet on earth. 4° THE LENTEN-TIDE 'IIT'HAT have we done that we should seek This Lenten-tide to be forgiven ? Our lips have never dared to speak Reproach or calumny of Heaven I Yet to the Lenten-tide belongs Repentance for some secret wrongs. What need have we for such distress ? Our hands have never robbed the poor, We have not spumed in bitterness, The trembling feet that sought our door; And yet the Lenten-tide is meant For men with spirits penitent. What have we done ? Our memories tell Of scorn, impurity, and hate. Of pride we have not sought to quell, 43 POEMS OF THE CHRISTIAN YEAR Of duty's promptings bidden to wait— Ah Heaven I that we should have such pride To sorrow for at Lenten-tide. What have we done ? Our narrow thought Has limited the Love divine. And all the flood of truth has sought In human channels to confine; The Truth of God, so free and wide. Condemns us at the Lenten-tide. The web of life is spun apace. And many threads are gay and bright. But some to give the pattern grace Must bear the impress of the night. No weaver's hand may cast aside The dark threads of the Lenten-tide. 44 LENTEN HOPE npHROUGH all the world's dark Lenten days •* Some Easter songs keep ringing, No age so hopeless but its ways Are cheered by distant singing, No time so wintry but it keeps Some seeds of bloom and brightness; No chaff so worthless but there sleeps Some good grain in its lightness. No spirit in such hopeless gloom That through the walls of feeling God's sunlight to its darkest room Comes not, swift moments, stealing. These shadowy, purple days of Lent, So steeped in present sorrow. Have promise full, of soul-content On Easter's glorious morrow; 45 POEMS OF THE CHRISTIAN YEAR Have preaage that mankind shall wake, When earth's day-dream is ended, In lands where cloud and stream and lake In perfect grace are blended. They keep a golden silence still, 'Tis true, that saints or sages Shall never penetrate until The sunset of the ages. But through all sombre Lenten-tides Such hopeful strains keep ringing. Our hearts are sure that somewhere hides A world of quenchless singing. 46 THE INNER COURT "npARRY ye herel" the Saviour laid ■■• And to the deeper shade withdrew Of that dark «pot near Kedron's bed Where high, o'er-arching olives grew. "Tarry ye here!" nor friend, nor foe Must on this dreadful hour intrude. My soul must face its bitterest woe In silence and in solitude. "Tany ye herel" for I alone Must enter dark Gethsemane, No ear but God's must list my moan. Though ye without may watch with me." "Tarry ye here," each sufferer says, "Pain's common portals open wide. But sorrow has mysterious ways Where even from you my soul must hide. 47 POEMS OF THE CHRISTIAN YEAR "Wait till the purple shadows spun About my griefs Gethsemane Have thinned a little in the sun That never long obscured can bej "Stay till the spirit, dumb with pain, Has spent its inarticulate cry, And faith so parched has drunk the rain Of God's compassion from the sky." "Tarry ye here," the Saviour said. And into deeper shade withdrew, Then to the soul uncomforted Heaven's chiefest white-winged angels flew. 48 m WHITE FESTIVAL OF EASTER \r7"HITE Fewival of Easter. " ' Triumphant day of dayj, The light of hope enkindling Beside our lifeless wajrs, Tis right that regal lilies About thy form should fling The richest incense-odours Mixed by the magic spring; For thou hast all the beauty Bom of unsightly clay. In nature's garden lavidied Since Time began her sway, And thou hast all the gloiy, In face and voice and mien, Of eveiy moral conquest Man's struggling life has seen, 5« POEMS OF THE CHRISTIAN YEAR And thou hast all the promise Of golden yean to come, When earth's imperfect prattle And clamorous cry are dumb. III hi m When Truth's uncertain glimmer Qear light has come to be. And strong, sweet tides of reason Have swept humanity. White Festival of Easter, Thou sham'st the eatth-bom dream That darkness is eternal And pain and loss supreme, A better faith thou bearest. Belief from heaven that springs. That death is only progress. And life the goal of things. Thy tale of les'-rection Is but the sat-ivd seal Affixed to nature's promise Of endless future weal, 5» WHITE FESTIVAL OF EASTER And we who oft despairing. Long Lenten days have wept, With loiigs of satisfaction This lofty faith accept, And bid thy strong, pure sceptre, Triumphant Queen of days. White Festival of Easter, Rule all our wandering ways. 53 O EASTER QUEEN O EASTER, queen of all the day* That wear the Qiurch't crown. Upon our troubled human ways Thy calm, fair face look* down, Thou cam'st this morning thro' the fields And spoke tome magic word. And all the plain that harvest yields With pulsing life was stirred; The hyacinth and tulip gay About thy pathway pressed, But golden-petaled lilies lay In triumph on thy breast; The messenger of death stooped iu«^ To kiss thy conquering feet. Life, trembling, seemed at last to know Her victory complete. Ins O EASTER QUEEN Thou camett to the sleeping town To where the mourner I»y, And joy ro«e from her prison biown And rolled the itone away. Thou halt the healing balm to mend The (pint hurt with fear, It ii thy gift new itrength to lend To ua who languiih here. O Eaiter, queen of all the days That wear the Church's crown, Upon our troubled human ways Forevermore look down I 5S EASTER FLOWERS THEY speak deep truths, these lilies dumb, Whose waxen forms our altars hide. Fresh from Bermudian gardens come To help us keep our Easter-tide. They rouse our slumbering minds to think, These timid, trembling crocus blooms. In blue and lavender and pink, From Nature's daintiest colour-looms. The regal tulips flaunting fair In gorgeous robes of red and gold, Through parks and gardens everywhere. What thoughts their broidered bosoms hold; We read :heir minds and glimpses get That fill us with mysterious joy, Of worlds where perfect words are set To melodies that never cloy, 56 IL: jjJi EASTER FLOWERS Of marsh-lands welcoming every day Ecstatic tides that surge and sweep From that divine, unfathomed bay, The source of soul-peifection, deep, Of fields beyond the doors of death, O'er-arched by skies of lovelier blue And rich with buds of sweeter breath Than Indian islands ever knew. O shadowy lanes throujh which we pass. To mellow noon or purple >;Ight, With springing step, or slow, alas I The days too quickly taking flight. Let all your measuring mile-stones be Swathed in the flowers whose petals hide Thoughts deep as God's eternity. Truths angels tell at Easter-tide. 57 ALL THE SULLEN SORROW OF THE NATIONS ALL the sullen sorrow of the nations, All the heavy weight of earth's decay, Cannot crush the faith that newly quickens In the spirit, every Easter Day. Never lay the pall of error darklier On men's shackled souls than now it lies. Through the vault of this late age are echoing All the old despairing plaints and cries. Knowledge twists and spins with subtle fingers Threads of gold for our immortal gain, In the complex looms of human progress We still weave them into webs of pain. Yet the world persistent keeps believing Pain has not an end in painless clay. And we hear its hearty creed-confessing In the hopeful hymns it sings to-day. S8 ALL THE SULLEN SORROW Death it not, but only resurrection, Graves of all dead joys fly open wide. Quivering souls burst free from final fetters — This man's vision at the Easter-tide. Ging then, brothers, to the lofty promise Of a life superior to decay. Uttered by the earth in Spring's awakening, Voiced by the glad rites of Easter Day; Go in peace, God mocks not man's believing With mirage or fleeting phantasy. Faith like ours is knowledge to our kindred In those worlds where fettered minds are free. EASTER-TIDE T TAIL. Ancient Easter-tide that drew ■^ ■*■ The nations to thy shrine, Thou who wert bom when man first knew The thrall of Spring divine; Thou hast the fragrance of all flowers That fill hope's garden wide, And clusters that enrich her bowers, O blessed Easter-tide. The mirrors of earth's banquet hall R'iflect thy glittering rays, Thou art the fairest pearl in all Her diadem of days. The pattern of the time is cold, The weavers weav in gloom, Unseen, thou windest threads of gold Into the busy loom. 60 EASTER-TIDE The dark-robed angel as he flies The shores of life beside, Hearing thy god-iike message cries "Victorious Easter-tidel" O Easter, lift thy beacon higher Above us as we grope. Thy lantern lighted at the fire Of the world's larger hope; In answering love, to all who love The Church's hallowed ways, Come with thy message from above For our despondent days. 6i AT LAST WITH SOFT MAGNOLIA BLOOMS A T last with soft magnolia blooms ■**■ The southern woods are fair. And jasmines add their rich perfumes To the delicious air. At last the less luxuriant north Wakes from its torpid spell. And tender living things creep forth Into the sunshine's swell. Dark Lenten shades again dissolve In glorious Easter light. And faith awakes with high resolve From penitential night. All life is bom, in these low spheres. From other life's decay. Some sombre night of tears or fears Begets each golden day, 62 AT LAST WITH SOFT MAGNOLIA BLOOMS And though we walk with eye« too blind To what such things declare. Conviction deep (wayi. every mind That in sotill world more fair, When death has worked its icy will Upon the summer's cheer And all the lust of life lies still Upon its iron bier, Soft Springs and Easter-tides shall break With light supremely fair, And every sleeping thing awake In the delicious air. 63 ASCENSION THE CONQUERING LIFE nPHE gentle slopes of Olivet were green, * And oleanders censed the passers by. And fronded palms lent grandeur to the scene As the victorious Lord went up on high. On rugged mountain tops where rocks were strown, And o'er rough loads, his feet had often strayed, Last, in Gethsemane's deep shades, alone. The stricken, sorrowing Christ had knelt and prayed; Now death itself was past, and he, a king. Midst angel guards assumed his primal power; O sleeping sons of men, awake and sing. This is not his but your triumphal hourl He broke from Joseph's tomb that ye might break From all the graves that bar your souls from day. He drank anew life's cup that ye might take Unstinted draughts of Heaven along the way; 67 i'l POEMS OF THE CHRISTIAN YEAR He roM to higher worldi that ye might rite From earth-bom doubu and tomb* of low detire, Twai your redemption iong that filled the ikiet When he was met by all the angel choir. O Risen Christ, we never trod with thee Judean fields, where scarlet lilies flower, Nor with the silent group near Bethany Stood wondering, at thy great ascension hour. Yet in thy conquering life we have a share. Thy pity and thy peace to us belong; The crowns thou wearest we thy followers wear. The sceptred strength thou wieldest makes us strong. 68 WHITSUN-TIDE O SPxRIT FROM THE ETERNAL DEEP /^ SPIRIT from the Eternal Deep, Who earnest once with wind and fire To wake the world from sensual sleep, And rouse the Church to strong desire, Thy subtle influence sways the race To virile thought and virtuous deed. Thou hast no narrow resting-place In commonwealth, or church, or creed; Through many a crowd since Pentecost Thy influence unperceived has crept. On souls the church accounted lost Thy clear, ecstatic flame has leapt. Thou art the rich, luxuriant mould Wherein our best deeds germinate. Thine was the power of sculptors old Their shapeliest statues to create, 7« POEMS OF THE CHRISTIAN YEAR By thee the vast cathedrals rose, And heavenly music came to birth, Thy rich perfection overflows In all the beauty of the earth. t Thy voice is heard in every sigh Of the soft-swaying forest trees, Thine is the unjarring melody That greets us in the summer breeze. ,1 It ! (1 •■ i We hear thy heart-beats in the shade And silence of the forest dim, Thou art in all the flowers that braid With blue and gold the river's brim; The firmament thy mind reveals. The unchanging orbs, the spaces wide. The splendid crim; }n fire that steals Into the west at eventide. 'Tis thou that from the eternal deep. With noiseless call, with wind and fire. When we are sunk in sensual sleep Awakenest us to strong desire, 71 \Vl O SPIRIT OF THE ETERNAL DEEP And on the hearth where once of old Love burned, then flickered, then was loit, Reviv'st amidst the ashes cold The inspiring flame of Pentecost. 73 I ! ' TRINITY i n GOD'S MANIFOLDNESS Q DOCTRINE deep, of the ages, O cieed of ^^ the inmost soul, Confessed wherever man craves for light, from Tropic sun to pole. Thou wert not wrought in the workshop of cold scholastic brain, Nor brought to birth like lesser creeds in intellec- tual pain, Thou wert bom when the wings of the Spirit brooded the soundless sea And quickened the atoms primal to wondrous potency. Thou wert forged when the worlds chaotic, inclosed in the fiery sun, Were thrown from the central system and order was begun, Thou wert shaped when God in his power said light at last should be; 77 V POEMS OF THE CHRISTIAN YEAR Then thed thy light on our darkncM, O Truth of Trinity. !!'. We peer through th^ cruel spacei with orphaned worlds alive. We look at the se-.; .n: kingdomi, where none but the strc \.' survive, And the faith we are bidden to cherish seems only a mocking light. And we feel like timid children left alone in the night, But thou art a voice to tell us a father's love is shown In every act creative since Chaos was o'erthrown, Thou sayest that high in heaven sits not a love- less God, But one who comes with yearning to kiss the r.ieanest clod; Then we pray that our hearts forever held close to his heart shall be. And cling to the creed that saves us, the Truth of Trinity. ■'^: We are tired of earth's oppressions, we are sick of its greed of gold, 78 ;.J = That GOD'S MANIFOLDNESS The wrongt that are waged in the darkness, the crimes that the days unfold, We look for the signs of sonhood in the race divinely made. But the signs grow faint and fainter, and at last we feel afraid man is an engine only, set like a watch for a day, A deft work done in tiie light of the sun, a sculp- tured form of clay, — Till we turn to the First-begotten and find that he came to tell That man, who is God's creation, is God's own child as well; Then w. pray that the mind of the Father in his •ons fulfilled may be, And rest with hope firm-founded on the Truth of Trmity. TV life in the woods in spring-time, when the sap mns free and warm, The might of the oak, or cedar, that breasts the winter storm. The joy diat swcBs and burgeons in the fertile hswst of tlie earth 79 t POEMS OF THE CHRISTIAN YEAR At it bring! the crocui and tulip and bluihing rose to birth, Are all from the tame full fountain where the faith of man it fed, Where feeble soult are ttrengthened and tad toult comforted, — 'Til the life of a Pertonal Power that movet in all that it teen, That makes the blind earth blossom, and keeps man's courage green; O God of the worlds, unmeasured our longing is for thee. To loftier heights uplift ui through thine own Trinityl I 80 MY PUREST LONGINGS SPRING IV^Y purest longing* ipring •^"•*' From the divine, The sweeteat songf I sing They are not mine, I chisel the rude stone With feverish hand. The statue comes alone At God's command. Beyond earth's uinted air I sometimes fly On wings of faith and prayer; Yet 'tis not I. Not I but He enlights My flickering creeds, 8i ••OOCOW mOUITION TKT OtAIT (ANSI ond ISO TEST CHAKT No. 2) IS ^ |U lit |£ 1?? u |j£ Im 12.0 MH /IPPLIED IM<5E he 1653 Eott Main StrMt RochMtw. N». York 14609 USA (716) 482 - 03f 3 - Phon« (716) 2a8-5rfM-ro« M' & I POEMS OF THE CHRISTIAN YEAR Not I but He unites My shattered deeds; Not I but God, for He, My larger life, Fulfils Himself in me With ceaseless strife. 82 O LOVE DIVINE /^ LOVE Divine, that circlest all ^^ Our little seas of strife. So might I feel thy tender thrall Upon my wayward hfe. The restless tides of ocean creep Into the sheltered bays. Thy tides through all my being sweep And fill its water-ways. O Love Divine, pure sea of light About a sea of sin. Thy blessed radiance to-night Folds all my darkness in. And soothes to peace the unquiet shore Where angry waves have lain. And spreads a silver mantle o'er The unsightly rocks of pain, 83 POEMS OF THE CHRISTIAN YEAR And stills the moankng of the storm I thought could not be stayed, And shames the doubt whose shadowy form Kept mocking as I prayed. O Love Divine, that circlest all Our little seas of strife, Forever in thy rapturous thrall Enfold my wayward life I «♦ SINAI AND THE PLAIN ■fl^HEN Moses left the sacred mount, Enraptured with the voic e of God, His peace was hke a living fount That bursts from the inc* . ' ,g .„, The dazzling radiance round his brow Bore witness to the Spirit's fire, Nor did his ecstasy allow Of worldly thought or weak desire. He saw the tents of Israel Thick on the plain at Sinai's base, Like white-winged, nestling doves, that dwell In shelter of some holy place. And as the winding path he trod. From barren crag to verdant slope. He felt himself the priest of God, The inspired minister of hope. 85 POEMS OF THE CHRISTIAN YEAR Here Heaven tunes, it is her w-./, The heart to holiest harmonies And then lets earth's rude fingers play Discordant strains upon the keys, i % A glittering idol god, upreared Against Jehovah's sovereign lav?, A god by sensual Pharoahs feared. With angry eyes the prophet saw; He dashed the hallowed stones away God's hand had graven on Sinai's height, And while their fragments round him lay He passed into the gloom of night. O Spirit, calm, of truth and power. Give us thy courage on our way. In every weak, despondent hour Visit our trembling faith and say: I I'l "Not thus forever shall the soul From radiant peaks of faith be hurled. Truth's steady tide shall sometime roll Into the worship of the world, 86 SINAI AND THE PLAIN 'And men shall scorn idolatries, And reverent wait at Sinai's base Till he appears whose favoured eyt$ Have seen Jehovah face to face." 87 1^ RESIGNATION I ASK no more that I may know The way God has for me, I only care that He shall show My duty momently, At first I sought with restless mind To know the entire way, But now I am content to find My path from day to day. I am not idle, for it seems That much on me depends, But failing all my fondest dreams I take what Heaven sends; Not always gladly, but resigned, I wait the Father's will. Believing that though I am blind He walks beside me still. i :\ IMMORTALITY 'TpHERE are strange moments when the human •*• dies In us, and the divine our spirits bear Rises supreme, and awful silence lies Upon our seas, and lightest thought is prayer. We question immortality on lower planes And grope for arguments to end the strife; We are immortal when the spirit reigns And then ure conscious of undying life. Of immortality, till thou canst call Thy soul, in reverence, such names as God Is wont to bear, speak not; till thou canst fall Before thyself, then rising from i.Se sod Of thine own humanness, in worlds above Declare with him, "I am I" and "I am love ! " 89 ;| HE UNDERSTANDS WHEN we have come with all our faults and fears Into the presence chamber of the King I do not think we shall recount the years That now seem scarred so deep with suffering; I do not think that He will give us time To scourge our souls because we were so vile, But only look at us and mike us climb Into high heaven upon his loving smile. When all Ufe's passion clouds have burned away And we have looked at last upon the Sun I think we shall not bow our heads and stay Mourning the victories we might have won, But be caught up so quick above our fears That we shall lose the words we meant to say About our fierce temptations, and the tears Of weak regret we shed along our way, 90 m\ HE UNDERSTANDS And rett like little children at the side Of Him who leads us up to those high lands, Lost in his 'ife, forever satisfied, Since He n.^ judges not, but understands. 01 ft £ . n li THY PRIEST WHEN at early mom I stand Humble at the Altar Feast, Breaking bread at thy command, Then I know I am thy Priest. When thou showest I have turned Some blind spirit towards the east Who for sunlight long has yearned. Then I know I am thy Priest. When thou let'st me soothe a pain Others, probing, have increased, Then 'tis clear that not in vain I have been ordained thy Priest. Make me anxious, Lord, to be Helpful to the very least Child of weak humanity. This will prove I am thy Priest. 92 THY PRIEST To some altar eveiy day Where the flame of hope has ceased Point, O Christ, my feet the way. Gladly there will go thy Priest. 93 PRAY FOR THE DEAD PRAY for the dead, who bids thee not, Is human kinship, then, so frail That those we love can be forgot When they have passed within the veil ? Has God released the old, sweet ties He took such loving pains to weld. And said: "Henceforth their memories In prayerless silence must be held?" Have they no triumphs yet to win. No toilsome heights of truth to climb, Does no strange syllable of sin Mar the soft cadence of their rhyme ? Pray for the dead, the links that bound Thy soul to theirs were forged on high. Borne upward they have surely found The chain firm fastened in the sky; 94 PRAY FOR THE DEAD And they have found that there as here Thou gavest them strength the roads to run That end in gateways opening clear On friendlier fields beyond the sun, And they have watched thy winding ways And helped thee many a load to bear, And in thy dark, despondent days Have stretched for thee strong hands of prayer. Pray for the dead nor cease thy prayer. Though holier they not yet are free To climb to those great uplands fair Where only perfect souls may be. Pray for the dead, it is thy right To leap in faith the shadovtry bars That shut thee still to orbs of night. And keep them safe in golden stars. 95 SOMETIME SOMETIME, sometime, The clouds of ignorance shall part asunder, And we shall see the fair, blue sky of truth Spangled with stars, and look with joy and wonder Up to the happy dream-lands of our youth. And thither climb. Sometime, sometime. The passion of the heart we keep dissembling Shall free herself, and rise on silver wing, And all ungathered chords of music, trembling Deep in the soul, our lips shall learn to sing, A strain sublime. Sometime, sometime. Love's broken links shall all be reunited. But not upon the ashy forge of pain; The full-blown roses dead, the sweet buds blighted Shall bloom beside life's garden walks again, In fairer clime. 96 SOMETIME Sometime, sometime, The prophet's unsealed lips shall straight deliver The message of eternal life uncursed; Wind-swept, the poet's heaven-tuned soul shall quiver, And from his trembling lyre at length shall burst Immortal rhyme. 97