FJLr.Piper o / LIGHTS OF HOME POEMS OF NATURE, SENTIMENT AND RELIGIOUS HOPE BY FRED LEROY PIPER SECOND EDITION THE WARREN PRESS 160 WARREN STREET, BOSTON 1912 DEDICATED TO f* WHOSE COMBINED MINISTRY OF GUARDIANSHIP, INSPIRATION AND BLESSING HAVE EVER BEEN TO ME THE BRIGHTEST AND TENDEREST OF EARTHLY EXPERIENCES FOREWORD This volume is not put out to meet any " long felt want," for the author is not aware of any marked de mand for poems of any grade. It is, however, issued in response to the suggestions of numerous friends. This call, together with the larger testimony of appre ciation received from many scattered readers, has led to the collection of the poems from papers and vari ous sources, and their issue in permanent form. The author s only hope is, that the lines which have proved inspirational and helpful to some known read ers, shall carry a like ministry to a wider circle. F. L. P. Boston, November /, 797.2. CONTENTS The Lights of Home 7 Give Me My Flowers Here 9 Birth of the Mountains 10 The Old Pasture 11 Mother and Sleeping Child on the Street ... 12 Holiday Memories 14 From Shore to Shore 16 The Restless Ocean 17 The First Lord s Day 18 The Woodland Path 19 Eastertide 20 The Whitened Fields 21 From Dark to Easter Dawn 22 The Shadow 22 Your Birthday 24 Ossipee Mountain 25 In Him We Live 26 Sunset on Mt. Shasta 27 An Evening Wish 28 Death of E. A. Stockman 29 Good-Night 30 Dawn of the Gray 31 The Mountain Brook .32 Between Ports 33 The Merrimac 35 Farewell to the Old 36 God in Nature . 37 CONTENTS Rest and Rising 38 Auditorium, Alton Bay 39 The Twilight Hour . . 40 The Fading Year 41 Morning by the Sea 42 The Songster s Death 43 The Groaning Creation 44 Finds at Last His Throne 46 Twilight on Winnipesaukee 47 Thanksgiving .... 48 Autumn Splendors 49 The Prodigal s Plaint . . . . 50 Friend to Friend The Eternal Calendar Church Consecration ... 53 Where the Curtain is Lifted . .... 54 Mt. Washington in Mist 55 Unbar Thy Door 56 Twilight in the Catskills ..... 58 The Sunset Hour . 59 What to Do With It 60 Star of the Night . . 61 The Night at Bethlehem . . 62 Easter Sunrise at Sea 64 Old Age Comes Not There . 65 Night on the Deep ... 65 It is No Time for Idling 66 Alone With God 67 The Hills of Home 68 From the Hilltop by Night 69 Glen Haven 70 On the Train . . Beyond the Hills 73 The Sunset Shore . 74 My Mother s Arms 75 CONTENTS Dreams 77 At the Grave of Annie Kempton 78 O Throne of Love 79 Stronger than Sword or Pen 80 An Evening Reverie 82 The Dream of School Days ....... 83 Winnipesaukee 84 Chambers of the King 85 Calvary 86 The World s New Hope 87 Come Back Again 88 The Church in Revival 89 Shasta Ferns and Mosses 90 Lone Grave in the Palms 91 Evening at Avalon ... 97 When Mother Tucked Me In .... .98 A Grandfather s Confession ... .99 The Bridegroom s at the Gate ... .101 Burdens 102 Lake Marion 105 Give Us Great Thoughts 106 Limits of Time and Vision 107 The Lights of Home. THOUSAND lights flash on the evening air, From street and hall, from lordly towering dome ; They shine to close the day of anxious care ; But fairest lights of all that glimmer there, Shine out the lights of home. They gleam from homes where hearth fires gaily burn, O er teeming boards that neath their viands groan ; They shine to greet the toilers glad return, Who all the gayer city pleasures spurn For lights, the lights of home. A thousand prows now part the distant main ; Ten thousand lads have battled wave and foam ; They joy to face the home port once again, Forget on distant seas the toil and pain, And watch for lights of home. In desert wastes, in jungles dim by day, Where wayworn travellers haste, in fear to roam Their hope through all the pilgrim, weary way, By winter s snows or through the flowers of May, To see the lights of home. Lights of Home By hearths where want and sorrow ever reign, Where plenty s horn and fullness never come, Where as a frequent guest sits racking Pain, Who comes and goes, and comes again, They watch the lights of home. In shadowed hall where ebbs the living tide, Where mocking, bony fingers point the tomb, Sad anxious mourners watch their loved beside They nurse the grief they cannot cure or hide, And hope for lights of home. Across the wide and swiftly rolling years, Under the stars which spangle heaven s dome, We fondly gaze, and faith dispels our fears, We speed a swifter race and dry our tears, And wait the lights of home. Giver of all we are, or hope to be, However far away we chance to roam, With all of Thine, grant this at last that we, The voyage and toilsome journey done, may see Those lights the lights of home. Boston, 1903. Give Me My Flowers Here. IMOT banks of pink or rose I ask, When comes my pall and bier ; Nor floral harps and " gates ajar " Give me my flowers here. Not all at once, but now and then Grant me a rose or tear ; Delay not all till I am gone, Give me my flowers here. And if my heart shall kindness win, And comfort soothe my fear, Bring out the oil of gladness now Give me my flowers here. If kind words shall at last be said, And friends estranged draw near, Grant now a foretaste of these joys Give me my flowers here. These granted kindness, patient love, Hand grasp, or silent tear, I then can say in life or death, Give me my flowers here. Birth of the Mountains. " Before the mountains were brought forth, or ever thou hadst formed the earth and the world, even from everlasting to everlasting, thou art God." PSA. 90 : 2. HAT vast and dire convulsions gave thee birth, In that far twilight of the dim unknown ! What giant heavings of the forming earth That reared thy bulk, thy towering granite cone ! A thousand avalanches welled on high From out the dark and molten depths below, And poured their grinding masses toward the sky, In birth pangs of the forming mountain s woe. Earth reeled and shuddered at the deafening shock, And chaos fought with ever growing light ; Convulsion laid thy deep foundation rock, And closed on it the gates of endless night. But on thy crest the wildwood verdure springs, And graceful spruces pierce the mountain air ; The highland bird in merry warble sings, Above the world, far from its want and care. And He who far below thy bases laid, And framed with rock thy walls and towering cone, Hath all the wandering orbs of heaven made, Which circle round His far-off dazzling throne. Sure He who guides them in the trackless space, And holds thee firm in His all-wise decree Who gave His power as now He gives His grace, And upholds all shall also care for me. Ossipee Mountain, Melvin Village, N. H., 19x0. IO The Old Pasture. fl VE been dreaming, dear, of childhood, and the early bygone days, I ve been back among the early scenes I knew ; I have trod the fields and woodlands and the half-forgotten ways, Through the pasture where the pennyroyal grew. The pines are on the hillside where the cattle used to feed, The orchard trees have shrunk to one or two ; The old cellar now is darkened with tree and vine and weed, In the pasture where the pennyroyal grew. I have heard again the tinkling of the bell upon the cow, As I urged her lazy footsteps through the dew, With a tender hand upon her I can feel her motion now Toward the pasture where the pennyroyal grew. Where I called her through the bushes now is forest dense and high, Where the sunlight glints below the whole day through ; And the trout brook still is singing through the valley near by, In the pasture where the pennyroyal grew. We are older grown, my darling, since those pleasant by gone days, And the early friends now left us are but few ; But I m younger to have traced again the half forgotten ways, Through the pasture where the pennyroyal grew. Melvin Village, N. H., 1907. II Mother and Sleeping Child on the Street. TITTI HAT a place to sleep ! ^^ In the city s din Where the street tides whirl like maddened sin, Where the roar of wheels and clang of bell, In ebb and flow of commerce tell The daily tale of a city s hell What a place to sleep ! What a place to sleep ! Tis a baby s way, No sounds molest where the sleeper lay ; Safe locked in a babe s unconscious rest, A refuge safe, it has gained the best A mother s arms and a mother s breast What a place to sleep ! What a pkce to sleep ! But a thousand hands, If need, would guard where the mother stands, Would turn the tide of the roaring mart, Would peril life for the sleeper s part, For a babe belongs to the world s great heart What a pkce to sleep ! 12 Ligtits of Home What a place to sleep ! Neath the Alpine snows, In depths where the sunlight never goes ; Down the crevasse to glacier s bed, Fount where the mountain streams are fed, Fear of the living, house of the dead What a place to sleep ! What a place to sleep ! Neath the verdure green, Which cloths in beauty the tropic scene ; In a dell of the towering mountain s height, Under the stars of a tropic night, Awaiting the resurrection light What a place to sleep ! What a place to sleep ! In depths of the sea, Clothed in its unsolved mystery ; Funeral knell by the ocean wave, Ocean bed for the sleeper s grave, Unfathomed depths, oh, who cah save 1 What a place to sleep ! What a place to sleep ! But God yet reigns, And under the mountains and under the plains, Holding the sea, and holding the land, As drops of the dew and as dust in His hand, They all shall awake at His command What a place to sleep ! of Home What a place to sleep ! No depths can hide The friends who in His love abide. Though far we drift from former calms, And storm and night bring dread alarms, We still are safe within His arms What a place to sleep ! On the street, Boston, 1904. holiday Memories. T of the misty, fast-receding years, Winged as an arrow in its rapid flight, Come through the rainbow of our smiles and tears, Fond memories of the past, this Christmas night. Again for us the cheerful hearth fire glows, Framing its phantom pictures on the wall ; Without lie wide and white the mantling snows, Again I hear the romping children s call. Faces that glow, lit by the dancing flames, Come back and fill again their wonted place; I hear in cadence of the past their names, And feel again, as then, their tender grace. Lighits of Home How sweet to watch the firelight s fitful glow ! More sweet the fellowship that gave it zest ; Without, the pleasures of the ice and snow, Made winter joys and winter days seem best. But on the hearth the fires died long ago, And sundered wide the friends who gathered there ; Passed the large fellowship we there loved so, Silent for aye the hearthside evening prayer. But some are left, and other friends are here, And Christmas days repeat their glad good-will; Hearts still are linked with other hearts as dear, And in the new-born years find gladness still. And if our hopes and Christmas joys returned, Repair the waste and loss of fleeting years, If hopes rise higher with a faith affirmed, And faith wax stronger through our doubts and fears, If heaven be heaven, and God above be King, Then coming years from out the saddened past, The old fond dreams and fonder friends shall bring, And dreams come true, and friends shall ever last. December 25, 1911. From Shore to Shore. 7THE days ! The years ! They pass but come no more Like clouds that sweep the wintry sky ; But my frail bark drifts further from the shore The childhood shore, where turns the longing eye. Fair faces fade from out the lapse of years, Time s current bears its living freight away ; Some straining glimpse we get through mist and tears Of that enchanting time life s early day. But now the sun recedes from off the hills Where morning came, and then the noontide hour ; And lower sinks the song of wayside rills, While fainter is the tint of field and flower. What though the years shall lead me there no more ? They do not bear me to a shoreless sea ; Their currents set toward the sunrise shore ; They prophesy e en better things for me. Bright hills and stately domes the mansions fair Break through the dawn that knows no darkening night ; Hearts lighter grow without their pain and care Across my bow it looms, a world of light. O years ! You are not cruel, though you seem To take me far from home and friends and rest ; You bear me on to these, and life s fond dream To God, my home, the friends, and all that s best. Boston, Dec., 1909. 16 The Restless Ocean. IN wave on wave the ever-restless sea, Beats its hoarse rhythm on a thousand shores ; It pours its flood on cliff and reedy lea, From out the ocean s everlasting doors. Wild are the storms that heave thy troubled breast ; High are the cliffs that surely bar thy way ; Deep are the throes that leave thee naught of rest, Through all the darkened night, through all the day. Bright are thy paths that shimmer neath the skies, Where moves a nation s commerce o er thy flood ; Or where the white-winged herald of the Master flies To give its message of a loving God. Strong are thy ties that bind the lands in one ; That weave the isles a garland for thy brow ; Broard is thy fellowship from sun to sun, Thy breadth, thy best are for the humblest prow. Beneath thy storm, thy calm, thy unknown bed, Is far outstretched my Father s tender hand ; Who knows thy secrets and who holds thy dead, As safe as they who pillow all the land. Type of all breadth, and depths that are unknown, Thy surge and roar shall speak thy Maker s praise ; Thy swinging tides are timed by His high throne, Who set thy bounds and measures out thy days. Santa Cruz, Cal., 1911. 17 The First Lord s Day. UT o er its gilded, far-flung, burnished path, Full swung the sun upon its conquering way, Dispelling night and Calvary s hour of wrath, Bringing the world its first glad Easter Day. The mist and chill of every valley deep, Mounted on wing before that sheen of light ; As shrinking guards forgot their ward to keep, The earth in new-born joy forgot its night. The new Lord s Day, memorial of the hour, Brings with its dawn the God-man from His bed - Henceforth the symbol of His rise and power, Day of the Living, who Himself was dead. O Death ! thy shattered bars the story tell Of conflict grim in that hadean night ; A conquering Hero masters death and hell, And floods the world with Resurrection light. His shining girdle henceforth holds the key To every charnel where a saint may sleep, Though sown in ashes on the heaving sea, Or plunged to bleach in unknown caverns deep. O day of joy that saw Him conquering rise ; Sweet days of rest, memorials through the years ; Prophetic of his reign neath fairer skies, And earth shall see the last of wars and tears. Boston, 1910. 18 The Woodland Path. CfctERE withered and crumpled beneath my feet, The fallen leaves are lying ; I walk the autumn woodland maze, In the clear and cool November days, When the season fast is dying. Over my head the branches sere and bare, In the breeze their protests murmur ; They sigh like one in grief bereft, Whose babes the home at last have left Their loss the joy of summer. What change ! from green and happy, smiling June, To sere and brown November ; Those days of leaf and vine and bower, Of swelling bud and fragrant flower, How all, their joys remember. And thus I tread life s changing autumn paths, Where friendship s leaves are falling ; There s many a branch already bare, And more their grief and loss shall share, For the autumn frosts are calling. Ah ! this is the land of the falling leaf ; The path which a shadow crosses ; Here friends and friendships pass away, And winter follows a summer s day, And life is filled with losses. Lights of Home But in that brighter, changeless home to come, Whose portals yet shall open, No falling leaf nor branch left sere and bare, Shall tell the tale of winter s coming there ; And farewells are not spoken. All hail ! that balmy clime of endless spring, Whose freshness and whose glory Fade not in all the endless years ; While saints redeemed from death and fears, Shall chant redemption s story. Boston, 1904. Eastertide. E morn had swung her gates ajar, And poured o er Orient lands the new-born day, Swift messengers from realms afar, Smote seal and guard, and rolled the stone away. A stir within tis victory s hour ; And calmly all death s emblems are laid by, He wrests from death his kingly power ; He lives to reign, and never more to die. Breathe then in bells, in flower, in song, With joyous strains the gladsome Eastertide ; Let all the living His high praise prolong, Who ever lives, who once for sinners died. Boston, 1898. 20 The Whitened fields. HERALD of the living Christ, awake ! Gird on thy sandals for a swifter race ; The full equipment of thine armor take, The crisis of the age comes on apace. The whitened fields stretch far in waving grain ; Put in thy sickle, for the harvest hour is come ; Full, ripened by the first and lattqr rain, Sheaves wait the reaper and the garner home. The call of sorrow and of want is heard, Of untaught children needing shepherd care ; And darkened homes that lack the living Word Invite thy heart and hand from everywhere. Haste, then, the toil ; thy coming Lord shall bring Crowns and reward for reaping and thy tears, And He who blessed thy work shall be thy King, Through all the coming, joyous, gladsome years. Sower and reaper, in that bright realm of light, Forever mingle where no sorrow mars ; In glory far exceeding any night, They meet and shine forever as the stars. Prom Dark to Easter Dawn. MS break the clouds, storm-weighed and tempest- ~* driven, Which nursed the blast, that shook the trembling land, And gave again the gladsome orb of heaven Assurance of a Father s smile and guiding hand ; So o er Judean hills, storm-swept with Calvary sorrow, And pressed with deeper woe than earth had known, There breaks beyond death s night the Easter morrow, In light o er all the cottage and the throne. Sun-lit the hills where pealed the angry thunder ; Calmed are the waves where tempests strove in vain ; Gathered at last, safe home a perfect number, Passed tomb and death, where comes no ill or pain. Boston, 1903. /\ The Shadow. |3 SHADOW lies on my heart to-day, For the years have been coming back, And memory, unbidden, has led me away O er the scenes of the backward track. 22 Lights of Home The world is aglow with joy and mirth, And the stars are bright above ; The heavens smile o er a teeming earth, And tell of a Father s love. I have trusted friends dear to my heart As dear as the old I knew, Who bring to life its better part ; But the shadow remains there too. I touch the keys with a hymn tonight, But out from their rambling tone, Comes trooping back on my dreamy sight The friends I have long since known. In well-known form and fair of face, They come with smiles today, They feign would every ill efface, But the shadow goes not away. There let it lie ; my heart holds more Than the shadow, or grief, or fears ; It has joys that spring from the unseen shore, And its memory of bygone years. It has trusted friends, a joy to last, And hope of a world without sorrow ; Then leave me the shadow to link the sweet past, With the present, and sweeter tomorrow. Your Birthday. little girl with silken hair, A thousand joys be yours ; Your sunny life so young and fair, Has shed its joy on ours. The days, the scenes ! how swift they whirl ! How years have passed away ! A babe, a child, my little girl ! You re ten years old today. Ten happy years, too bright to stay ; Ten seasons filled with spring ; May summer be as glad a day, And fall no shadows bring. And when shall pass the hearts and home Which guard thy youthful years, And when that brighter home shall come, Beyond our care and fears, Ours be the joy to meet thee there, Where numbering years are o er, Thyself the same, but "grown more fair," Thy home the changeless shore. Maiden, Mass., 1902. I.ATKK AS A HlCll S( I1OOI. (HR[, Ossipee Mountain. /TROWN of the Ossipees ! Thou mount of God ! Like Pisgah for thy widely-sweeping view ; So near the clouds which weave thy misty wreath A changeful crown, old, yet ever new. Perfume of mountain spruce, and brake, and pine, Make sweet the air which bathes thy lofty crest ; And circling eagles far above the haunts of men, Find shelter on thy cliffs, and home and rest. A thousand storms have swept thy beetling crags, Thou silent monarch of the range and lake ; Ten thousand morning suns have kissed thy brow, Whence these enchanting views I take. How long has been thy patient, guardian ward, O er lake and stream and widely rolling plain? What generations past invoked thy shrine, And called in prayer thy mystic mountain name? These passed, and passing like the fading dew, Declare thy constant and unchanging sway ; And thy remote tomorrow still shall be As now I find thee on this gladsome day ; Till that dread day when last convulsions shake Thy pillar ( d sides and move the solid earth ; When seas and mountains shall their places leave, As nature struggles to her second birth. Lights of Home Beyond those throes shall fairer scenes arise Than these which thou dost give my eyes today ; And I, so frail, shall then survive thy shock ; Shall view thy passing, but ne er pass away. Black Mountain, Melvin, 1904. In Him We Live. 7THOU Holy One, to eye unseen, Yet ever near in power, Whose glory gilds an evening sky, Or tints the morning flower : Thy voice in accents clear and loud, By sky and earth is heard, In pealing thunder, cloud to cloud, Or song of bird to bird. Yet now the humblest may draw near, Rejoiced to own Thy sway ; They find in Thee a Presence near, And hope of endless day. Come in Thou all-pervading One, My heart Thy throne shall be ; Reign there till all Thy will is done In heaven so in me. 26 Sunset on Mt. Shasta. "7THE shades are on the valley, dear, far by the moun- ^* tains thrown, But still the sun is lingering on the height ; The silver of the river into somber hue has grown, The deeper shades proclaim the coming night. The snow upon the summit s brow reflects the sunset gold, The amber of the evening fills the west ; The round of toil and pleasure for another day is told, The stillness of the valley tells of rest. The vales are for the shadows, dear, the sun is for the crest, Where monarchs of the mountains kiss the sky ; The clouds that have the silver for their lining in the west, Presage for us a day that ne er may die. If the valley fills with shadows, dear, and deepens into gloom, There s a river in its depth that ever sings ; And cheerful lights of evening to the valley homes shall come, Where honest toil its meed of gladness brings. Lights of Home What though in vales or on the heights the earthly lot be cast, The vale will have its stream still singing there ; Some evening lights shall shine to bless the far receding past, And heaven shall bend to hear the sunset prayer. But if on heights above the vale the sun may find us then, When swift he goes toward the day s decline ; Our hearts shall miss the shadows of the deeper moun tain glen, And catch the glow where latest twilights shine. Shasta Springs, Cal., 1911. An Evening Wish. fCLESSINGS on thee, child, tonight, God s bright stars above thee ; Sweet thy sleep till morning light Wish of those who love thee. May the morning bring thee joy, Coming days no sorrow ; Each bring peace without alloy, Each a brighter morrow. 28 Death of E. A. Stockman. 7THEY fall ! They fall ! Comrade and friend ; Our thinning ranks, wavering, bend Before the monster s onward tread And closing ranks, we count our dead, And wait the next to fall. And like the noble Scottish clan, Who, heart to heart, and man to man Breasted the foe with spear and dart, Until their chieftain, pierced at heart, Fell, to their sore dismay ; Thus we in strife for truth and right, Beset by sin and error s might, Share deeper grief than tribe or clan, We mourn a saint, a friend, a man A fallen chieftain, ours. Foe of the wrong, friend of the good, His choice to stand where martyrs stood ; Travel-worn saint, in need of rest, We loved thee much, God loved thee best, Farewell, til morning breaks. Boston, Feb. i, 1901. Good-Night. OOD-NIGHT," we breathe o er the sleeping babe, With the evening curtains drawn, As we leave him safe with the slumber nurse, To sleep til the break of morn. 14 Good-night," comes down from the hall above, As the children file to bed ; And we pray that God their souls may keep, As have they in the prayers said. " Good-night " comes oft at the close of day, As friend with friend may part ; " Good-night," it echoes on the street, In hall, or crowded mart. " Good-night," we say at the close of life, When sleep in death draws near ; " Good-night," when last farewells are said, With sigh and falling tear. 44 Good-night " in life, " good-night " in death. 44 Good-night " till the dream is o er ; Til friends shall meet again in life, And say 4< good -night " no more. Boston, 1901. " But I ve noticed that by some mishap or other, There s a sprinkling of grey threads in her hair." Dawn of the Gray. Y, my boy, I ve been looking at your mother, The one you know, we ve always thought so fair ; But I ve noticed that by some mishap or other, There s a sprinkling of gray threads in her hair. I m sure she s not grown old, for her face and heart are young, And her laugh and voice are still as light as air, Her song is even sweeter than the early songs she sung, But the gray is surely coming in her hair. I think, my boy, we ll lift a little harder on the load, And we ll lighten up that mother s round of care, We ll send her tripping lighter on the balance of the road, And we ll stay, perchance, the gray threads in her hair. But in that better country where the scattered gather home, Which the Master with His glory shall prepare, Eternal youth shall tarry, and no dread of age shall come, And the gray shall never mingle in the hair. Boston, 1903. 31 The Mountain Brook. *ff T sings a. gladsome, merry song, This mountain brook. It starts where storm-clouds sweep the heights It runs through days and runs through nights, By many a bend and crook. Deep in its early-shaded glen It glides along; Shimmers over the mossy stones, Sings and babbles and gaily drones Its high-up mountain song. Little of sun to cheer its way, It runs in shade ; The graceful ferns its ways attend, They cover each unsightly bend, Each pool and shallow made. Above its downward merry course A roof is spread ; A warp of tree, of branch and limb, A woof of leaf, and climbing vine Fit shade for monarch s bed. On in its course to lake and -;ea ! This mountain brook ; Held not by log or hindering stone, It ever sings, " I must be gone," And runs by bend and crook. 3 2 Lights of Home And "such is life," the preacher saith, Its course is laid, More often in the shady glen, With more of shade than star or sun, Its progress often stayed. But like the river, on we go To lake and sea ; Past all that holds or helps us on, We wave and sing, " I must be gone," To larger destiny. Glen in the Ossipees, 1904. Between Ports. NSTEADY of step, uncertain of sight, Trembling, halting, slow ; Extended hand for better light A twilight darkening into night, Where sunset embers glow. Fair once, in face and heart a child, With form erect and strong ; No anxious care her hours beguiled, Glad youth in all her features smiled Her journey bright, though long. 33 Lights of Home But years have blanched from off her face The rose of former days, Nor left a lingering, tell-tale trace Of all her wealth of youthful grace, Or of her girlish ways. But deep within the eyes set fast Which oft of musings tell One reads her revels in the past Of days and scenes too bright to last, The days she loved so well. Afar upon the moving tide Her trembling bark has come ; Past port of youth, with sunny side, Where all may touch but none abide, Afar from childhood s home. But other voices, other days, Attract her ever on ; The tide may bear her devious ways, Past shoal and rock and land-locked bays - But it shall bear her home. Home where the care lines fade away, Hearth where friends shall come ; Port where youth finds endless day, Where friend to friend no farewells say The soul s eternal home. Boston, 1904. 34 The Merrimac. *|OIBBON of mist and shimmering wave, Mirror of shore and sky ; lazily flowing thy banks between, Adding thy charm to the landscape scene Flowing forever by. Down from the glades of the Crystal Range, Down through the hills to me ; On and ever thy course is laid, By Him who shore and waters made On to the waiting sea. Yet back again to mountain haunts May come thy waters fair Lifted on high from tropic seas, And borne aloft by storm and breeze, These yet may bring thee there. Distilled once more on plain and mount, Thy crystal drops may be ; And then again by spring and glen, Thy flow shall bless the homes of men, Back to the waiting sea. 35 Lighits of Home " There is a stream whose gentle flow," In sweeter landscape glides ; To hearts and homes its blessings borne, To those in joy and those who mourn More sweet than all besides. Blest stream of faith and love and hope, Rich blessings on thee ever ; Bear us upon thy moving tide, Thy peace within our hearts abide, Thy flow be ours forever. Merrimac Valley, 1904. Farewell to the Old. |CAREWELL to the year, *" The dying year, Its sins be all forgiven. Pardoned be all its misspent hours, Forgotten its sadly wasted flowers, Whose fragrance spoke of heaven. Farewell to the year, The finished year ; Its joys shall linger long. We ll turn again its brighter page, Its good shall last from age to age, A gladsome summer song. 36 God in Nature, /TXOD of the mountain s towering height, Thy sovereign power I own ; These hoary forms proclaim Thy might Thy sure unchanging throne. In unknown depths, when worlds were framed, Thou laid st their basal tiers ; Ere man their wonders sang or named, These heights were gray with years. No gladsome voices chimed their birth ; Alone Thou reared them high, As guardian sentries of the earth, As pointers to the sky. They speak Thy voice, Thou God of all, In tree, in leaf and flower ; In frowning height, in waterfall, In shade of evening hour. Where bluebells bloom in sunny glen, Where avalanches sweep, Here be Thy throne, Thou King of men, As in the azure deep. A. thousand ages in Thy sight Are but a passing day ; Thy throne, in everlasting light, Shall never pass away. 37 of Home God of the mount, of earth and heaven, Creator, Sovereign, King, I bow before Thy wonders given, My praise and worship bring. Crawford Notch, 1903. Rest and Rising. *|OEST, dear tired child ; thy romp and play Has wearied hands and feet and brain ; Thy laughter and thy tears made bright the day Which came, but ne er shall come to thee again. But through thy chamber window on the morn, The rising sun shall bring another day ; Thy feet shall enter its bright joys upon, Again shall fill the hours with happy play. Dear tired saint, thy hands are thin and white ; Thy lids are wet with watching and with tears ; Thy Father sends thee rest, death s quiet night Refreshing for the coming endless years. That morn shall break above thy slumber bed ; Its Easter rays shall lighten up the tomb ; Refreshed, with millions rising from the dead, Thy risen King shall bring thee safely home. Boston, 1906. 38 Auditorium, Alton Bay. /flN SACRED spot ! neath shimmering leaf and sky, With sunlight glinting through the forest trees ; Where oak and maple, standing proudly by, Invite and woo the passing summer breeze. A wall of cottage homes in fair array, A seated ground where glad hearts love to come ; A place of blessing through campmeeting day, A foretaste of the coming heavenly home. The sound of prayer and praise from here ascends, The preached Word rings through the temple fair ; The voice of nature with the preacher s blends, The breath of worship fills the summer air. But camp shall break, and these shall scatter far ; The leafy roof shall fall in sad decay ; These lessons rise our outer joys to mar Reminders fresh that all must pass away. But on a fairer shore, neath brighter sky, Shall meet again the severed and the blest ; Fair groves and fairer mansions fill the eye, Where worn and long-divided saints find rest. Here dies the song that soon shall waken there ; Now waits the faith that endeth soon in sight ; Here fades the night, and ends the voice of prayer ; There breaks the day all shadowless and bright. Alton Bay, 1907. 39 The Twilight Hour. 7THE twilight splendor fills the western sky, The day departs which comes to us no more ; The shades of evening hover closely by, The lights gleam on the shore. The hush of nature spreads o er all around A calm, as sinks a tired babe in sleep ; For weary lives a balm of rest is found, As breathed for those who weep. We grieve not for the swift, departing day, Its meed of anxious, wearing toil is done ; God kindly folds our busy cares away, And curtains in the sun. But for our loss he gives the gorgeous light Of gilded cloud, and crimson, changing bars ; He gives for toil the restfulness of night Unveils his heaven of stars. Blest be the twilight with its splendid glow, The rest and calm to weary toilers given ; Blest be the hand which furls the day below, To show us more of heaven. Boston, 1907. The Fading Year. 7THY mercy on our failures, Lord, In this swift fading year ; Its days have well-nigh run their course, The last is near. Like sands from out the hour-glass, Its golden hours have sped ; Friends saw its dawn to see its close But some are dead. For all its precious hours misspent, We grieve with vain regret ; For all its sins of deed or thought, O spare us yet. Thou Changeless, thou Eternal One, Be Thou our guide and stay, And when this night of time is gone, Bring us to day. A .day that sees no setting sun, A year that knows no end, An age succeeding age on age, Where friend meets friend. Course on the years, nor bring regret. Fade plans or time away ; Beyond them all my soul discerns An endless day. Morning by the Sea. IjfiARS of sunlight on the sea, Shimmering cloud and summer haze Morning sun on rock and tree Gladsome, dreamy, autumn days. Hushed in calm, O mighty deep ! Bathed in glory from on high Deep the secrets that you keep, Safe from ear or searching eye. Stilled the storms that swept thee o er ; Hushed the thunders of the blast ; Only wavelets lave the shore, Where thy wrecks of years were cast. Blessed morning, peaceful calm, Spreading o er the boundless main, Like a soothing morning balm, Following a night of pain. Thus may peace, some gladsome day, Calm the troubles of our earth ; Still the tempests, pave the way For creation s second birth. Stilled earth s waves of war and strife ; Holy calm forever be ; Quiet joy, unending life Morning sunlight on the sea. Boston, 1908. 42 The Songster s Death. TTHE cracker is uneaten where the songster had his throne, The seed is undiminished where he fed ; The home cage looks deserted, hanging silent and alone Our singer, the canary bird, is dead. There s no early morning greeting when 1 raise the window- shade, The joy and animation all are fled From the perches and the swing-loft where such melody was made, Since the occupant and singer now is dead. His sweet and warbling melody once rang through home and heart, It won its highest tribute, human love ; It seemed a strain left over of an Eden s long-lost art, A suggestion of the purer songs above. We left him in the garden where they placed the birds best Friend, Who the Father s tender watch-care o er them gave And there the birds shall sing their songs until the sum mer s end, O er the singer and above his new-made grave. Boston, 1909. 43 The Groaning Creation. of thee still, the "whole creation " groans ; O earth, what shocks have rent thy heaving breast ! Thine are the deeper-growing birth-pang moans, For thee there s no relief, no present rest. Thy burning mountains shed their warning glow Afar o er faces blanched in mortal fear ; From out thy bowel mines the sound of woe Falls like a dirge upon the listening ear. Beneath thy groves, thy parks, thy fairest flowers, Spreads wide and deep the dark hadean shade, Where slumbering dwellers pass death s somber hours, Who neath thy springing scd their graves have made. Ten thousand storms have swept thy heaving main, And reaped their harvest toll in death and tears ; The winds repeat the echo of thy pain, And chant a dirge of sorrow through the years. The tramp of men, the growing, warring hosts, Sounds in the camps where hostile nations wait ; Their frowning fortresses rise on the coasts Where war-enthralled but vanished nations sate. 44 JUights of Home Dread ships of war their brazen challenge bring, To awe the weak perchance to check the wrong ; The nations own not yet their rightful King, While evil men still consort with the strong. The wail of suffering childhood rises high, Where ill-requited toil the blood-mark leaves ; A vaunting charity moves slowly by, While righteousness and open justice grieves. O earth ! thy darksome winter has been long, But bright shall be the coming of thy spring ; Thy dirge and sorrow shall be changed to song, Thy long misrule for justice, and thy King. Boston, 1910. 45 Finds at Last His Throne. TIYflHEN clouds have hid the shining of His face, And round my path the twilight shadows come ; I find my needed succor in His grace, As I journey on toward my rest and home. Beyond the clouds, and past the summits high, Where storms and sunshine sweep and kiss the crest, In mansions which shall fill the earth and sky, To overcomers there remains a rest. Fair picture of a world surpassing bright, Thy glory fills my vision with its cheer ; Glad day of days which ne er shall end in night, Where comes no gathering cloud, or dread, or fear. A world where death shall lose its power and sting ; Where nations shall a righteous scepter own ; Where wandering peoples find at last their King ; Earth s crownless Ruler finds at last His throne. Boston, 1905. Twilight on Winnipesaukee. RK are the isles where sunset shadows lengthen ; Bright gleams the star which evening calls her own ; Fond are the ties which shoreward fancies strengthen, Dear are the dreams of childhood days and home. Following astern, the ripples widely spreading, Weave there a path of softly glowing light, Where waning day the sun s last glories shedding, Proclaim to all, the swift oncoming night. Faint friendly lights gleam o er the trembling waters, From homes where dwell the hardy wards of toil ; Where lusty sons and joy of fairer daughters, Relieve and glorify the round of daily moil. The shore lines cast, proclaim the journey ending ; The lights of home from out the casements shine ; The glow of stars with gayer home lights blending, Have brought me back again to home and mine. And thus shall some day close the voyage longer, When twilight shades the world s wide vault o er spread ; But love of home shall be the tie yet stronger, Which binds to Him the living and the dead. 47 Lights of Home The Morning Star shall lend its guiding beacon, And friendly lights shall gleam on bay and shore ; The voyage past, shore lines shall be the token Here are the friends and home forevermore. Melvin Village, 1909. Thanksgiving. /H\Y heart, bring thanks for blessing given, For home, and friends and love ; For daily bounties rich from heaven ; For joys laid up above. For Him who all in mercy sends, Prepare thine altar high, While prayer and praise arising, blends Sweet incense to the sky. Yield Him thy love, thy heart and life, Thy choicest treasures bring ; At His dear feet cease all complaint Thanksgiving to thy King. 48 Autumn Splendors. 7THE autumn splendor fills the valley wide, And flings o er all the hills its pageant charm ; It gilds in glory fitting any bride, The mountain crest, the widely-spreading farm. The milder green of summer days has fled ; The mantling garb of gorgeous shades is given ; If falling leaves shall tell us of the dead, These autumn splendors speak to us of heaven. The varied hues reflect the sunset fire, Which closing days have spread across the sky ; It daily burns to conflagration dire, For every leaf, its glory spent, shall die. More somber shades now fill the mountain dell, Where towering peaks their sunset shadows throw ; These longer grown, of coming night foretell, As day to years, and years to ages grow. Melvin Village, 1909. 49 The Prodigal s Plaint. TT AKE back the world, its joys but end in sorrow ; Its promise tried has failed my heart to win ; Take back the days in which 1 feared the morrow, The days which led the feet in paths of sin. Turn back, O Lord, the life I long have wasted, The powers misspent, by Thee so kindly given ; Take back the mocking hope so often blasted, Give me the hope of lasting joy and heaven. Take back the heart long weary of its seeking To find the goal of pardon, rest, and peace. Light breaks at last, Thou dost receive for keeping The heart that seeks and finds in Thee release. Take back at last when earth shall fail forever, To Thine own home the child Thy love has bought ; Take back where naught from Thee shall ever sever, The ransomed soul Thy care and rnercy sought. Priend to Friend/ face ! Dear friend ! Ah, how we miss The old-time smile, the loving kiss ; The earnest clasp of arm and hand That matchless welcome to a friend. He loved as mother loves her child, On high or low he gladly smiled ; He won the highest joy a friend And fondly loved him to the end. Sleep on the years which intervene Between our grief and that fair scene, Which oft thy tongue and pen foretold, The glory world, the gates of gold. The old-time greeting then shall come, Within our Father s gladsome home ; Thy love renewed shall then be mine, My own shall then again be thine. * Written at Mechanic Falls campmeeting on seeing a picture of James Albert Libby. 51 The Eternal Calendar. If N that far centre of the wheeling spheres, Where suns and systems take their time and light, Hangs high the calendar of eternal years, Which keeps the days but knows no passing night. Days not of hours but of the centuries made, A thousand years complete their daily run ; By these the comets wandering course is laid, Through systems vast from sun to sun. And ponderous orbs, whose measured track Circles through space beyond our sight or ken, Whirl on and on and ever safe come back, And then on time another course begin. God of the universe ! forever One ! For whom the past and future are the same ; Guard of the changing centuries past and gone, Whose stately march Thy power and might proclaim, Thou art our Sponsor for the coming days, In small or largest measure be they cast ; The dawning century shall extend the praise Our hearts first learned from Thee in that now past, 5* Lights of Home And when earth s journey and our fleeting years Are closed for aye, and time itself is o er, Bring our frail bark, past storm and surf and fears, To harbor safe, by that eternal shore. January t, 1901. Church Consecration. TIC! ^ consecrate this temple fair, A shrine for holy praise ; A hallowed place for humble prayer, Through all the coming days. Here shall our children oft be led, God s solemn truth to know ; Here shall the light of life be shed, Thy saving power to show. From this fair altar shall ascend The incense of our love ; From here the song of saints shall blend With angel songs above. Fill thou for us this sacred place, Till we Thy temple see, Where saved and gathered by Thy grace, We dwell at last with Thee. 53 Where the Curtain is Lifted. 7THEY say there s a land where the friends gather home, Who out of our lives here have drifted ; Where life s vexing problems shall yield up their sum, And problem and mystery shall nevermore come A land where the curtain is lifted. Then welcome, thou land of the unfading flowers, Earth s night for thy glory be shifted ; We think of the might of thy " world to come " " powers," The calm of thy peaceful and joy-ladened hours The land where the curtain is lifted. Here dark are the clouds which roll overhead Though light through their folding is sifted And deep are the waters that cover our dead ; Yet, bright is the promise thy prophets have said, There s a land where the curtain is lifted. Beyond thy bright rising, beyond the dark veil Grown thin by the glory oft rifted, We hear the "all s well" of the deck-watches hail, And see the last furl of the storm-beaten sail, In the port where the curtain is lifted. Boston, 1903. 54 Mt. Washington in Mist. /T LOUD-CAPPED, thou monarch of the morning skies ! Why veil from me thy lavished beauties given ? Revealed or veiled thy glory never dies ; Thy giant, lifted form links earth and heaven. Home of the snowy, changing, cloud-land mist Etherial, fair, and weaving changing forms ! A granite brow which rising suns have kissed ; Proud Nestor mid the wintry, sweeping storms. Thy lofty crags the eagles long have swept, Secure from town or cities rude alarms ; High in their mountain fastness they have kept Their vigil o er thy constant, changing charms. Exalted height, so near heaven s vaulted dome ! Unchanged and constant through the ages past ; Earth-symbol of our Father s changeless throne, Whose kingdom shall through coming ages last. Portland, Me., 1903. 55 Unbar Thy Door. /H\Y friend, unbar the unused door, Where vines and weeds are pressing ; A kingly form with richest store, Waits there to bring thee blessing. Humble of mien ; a Friend indeed, For every time of danger ; A rich supply for all thy need ; Arise, admit the Stranger ! The dews of night are on His hair, The stars shine out above Him ; But kings rejoice His light to share, And millions learn to love Him. Thy room is chill with self and sin, Hope s sky is dark above thee ; Unbar thy door, and let Him in, The One who best doth love thee. What joy to have Him as thy guest, Thy bounty gladly sharing, Who freely gives thee heaven s best, While all thy burdens bearing. 56 Lights of Home Thy guest to cheer and guard by night, In sickness soothe thy sorrow ; To shield thee till the morning light, Then usher in the morrow. For every need He has a balm, Though sin, or ill, or sadness ; For every storm He has a calm, For grief He gives thee gladness. O let Him in, thy friend, and mine ! Break down sin s towering weed and vine ; Make room, He stands without in night ; Unbar thy door, let in the Light ! King of the heart, and King of men ; Unbar thy door, He comes again ! Boston, 1905. 57 Twilight in the Gatskills. .iCADES from the hills the waning light, *" Which marks the close of day ; The somber shades, presaging night, Bring out the valley firesides bright, Where quiet hamlets lay. The forest groves more dense appear, The heights to frowning turn ; The darkening east may tell of fear, The glowing west bids good-night cheer, Where sunset fires burn. The quiet of a Sabbath eve Broods calm and still o er all ; The deepening shades their mantles weave And on the brooding fancies leave Reminder of that twilight call, When evening shall life s valley fill, And tired travelers rest. When there shall fall the shadows still, And fear and hope the heart shall thrill, May sunset fill the west. Redkill, Catskill Mountains, 1905. The Sunset Hour. E constant sun, whose glories Made the morning hour a joy, Swings on his westering course. His morning glow put cheer in drooping hearts, Dispelled the gloom in ward and home, And kissed the cheek of pallid sufferers. Its mid -day heat was blessing for the toiler s hand On Eastern slope and prairies far Felt now, but more in coming harvest days. But now swift comes the sunset hour ; The mellow glow fills all the sky, And tints the earth as well. Lower and lower behind the earth s firm rim It sinks, till its last beam has fled. We wait and look but see its form no more, But seem to hear from sunset s closing door A fond " good night." Good night. Thy sunset radiance is a joy ; But e en now thou sure art rising as before, And now again art flinging Thy morning splendors on some other shore. And thus another sun goes down The world s sun, and my own But not in endless gloom. 59 Lighxts of Home Beyond its fading sunset glow, Its twilight merged in night, It rises on some other shore, In full-orbed radiant light. The world may pass as fades the day, Its shadows thicken o er ; But fairer earth shall morn reveal, A sunlit fadeless shore. Penobscot Bay, 1906. What to Do With It* *it you have a hard task, hurry it ; If a dark doubt, bury it. If you have a sound creed, teach it ; If a live faith, preach it. If you have a good hope, live it ; If a kind word, give it. If you have God s peace, share it ; If sorrow s burden, bear it. Suggested by, and in part adapted from a couplet appearing in Busy Man s Magazine. 60 Star of the Ni$ht. of the trackless spaces, whence thy light ? How long thy silent vigil there on high ? Thy blessed ray lights up the passing night, And swells the splendor of the midnight sky. Ere man was formed or earth s foundation laid, Thy morning song rang through celestial spheres, And passing ages have their tribute paid, To thy fair glory and thy nameless years. Where, tell me, is the burning jasper throne Of Him who marks for thee thy unknown way ? Whose power thy wandering sister comets own, Who dwells in light beyond our brightest day? Thy constant glow through all the ages shed, His higher glory and His love declare ; God of the living, hope of all the dead, Who guides the stars, but hears the humblest prayer. Boston, 1903. The Night at Bethlehem. /T\ NIGHT, when all the tired world s unrest Found point and symbol in the virgin s need ; Its kindly mantle drew to soothe her breast, Its dew of pity spread o er vine and weed. Abashed with awe and mystery profound, The jest, perchance, for evil mind and tongue, Awaiting shelter, rests she on the ground, Grieved and intent, but beautiful and young. The stars are marshaling while shepherds sleep, The din or traffic for the day is past ; The nightly fold gives shelter to the sheep, The long-strayed lamb was gathered in at last. The ample inn is crowded o er with guests Which Rome has sent for taxing in her need ; As Joseph plies in vain his anxious quests, No friendly keeper to his call takes heed. The sound of merriment runs high, then low, From merry hall to chamber fades the light ; The guests and keepers to their couches go, And Bethlehem lies neath its shroud of night. 62 Lights of Home But shelterless without th unfriendly inn, Bows one in stress that only mothers know ; A type in anguish of the wide world s sin, Of its hard burden and its tide of woe. At last the stable swings its unbarred door, To share with her and sheep and kine its rest, And on its portals hang forever more, Garlands of praise and blessings of the blest. Stable and kine and sheep were glorified, For on that night the Prince of Peace was born ; The humblest of the earth was sanctified, And angels brought the world its gladdest morn. Night of all nights when she gave Him to men, Best of the days when He comes to the heart ; Better e en yet when He shall come again, Raising the lowly to their better part ; When far and wide His praise by man is sung, When sin and wrong and death shall be no more, When peace and justice to the earth shall come, And His dominion reach from shore to shore. From night till glorious day the story runs ; From humble manager to the dazzling throne ; His wide dominion shall outlast the suns, His righteous reign all kings and people own. 63 LiglntQ of Home Peace then at last shall fold her wing and rest, War s tumult shall forever pass away ; The last of earth s long ages shall be best, As night shall merge in fair, unending day. December, 1910. Easter Sunrise at Sea, .iCAIR as the sea in the shimmering sun, ^ Where the tropic zephyrs play, Was the morn which came to the sleeping One On the first bright Easter day. Wide swing the gates of the glassy sea, Where the sunrise pours its tide ; Calmed shall its heaving bosom be Where the last proud wave has died. Bright spring the flowers in the haunts of men, And afar up the rocky slope, Since He who rose from the grave again Swings open the door of hope. Hope for the erring, for wanderers lost, Life for the friends who sleep ; Anchor and port for tempest-tossed, Gladness for those who weep. Boston, 1902. 64 Old A&e Gomes not There. TT HEY say there s a land where springtime stays, And the bright flowers bloom more fair ; Where night gives place to the gladsome days, And old age comes not there. No trembling limbs or faltering gait, Nor gray in the sunlit hair, Shall mar the vigil of those who wait, For old age comes not there. The rosy flush and the lustrous eye Shall know not the blight of care, Nor fall the leaves, or flowers die, For old age comes not there. Welcome the land of the fadeless flowers, And the balm of a heavenly air ; There s passing youth in this world of ours, But old age comes not there. Boston, 1902. Ni$ht on the Deep. "7TIS night, and ocean s heaving swell Is cradle while I sleep ; What joy amid the waves to feel, I m with Him on the deep. 65 Ligtits of Home The twilight glow has deeper grown, But stars their vigils keep ; And near I feel my Father s hand, For He is on the deep. What depths are far beneath our keel ! What monsters through them sweep ! What matters since my Father s hand Is underneath the deep. In storm or calm, by night or day, With those who sing or weep, Tis here the highest joy to know I m with Him on the deep. It is No Time for Idling. *f|T is na time for idling now. The day declines, And sunset shadows fall athwart thy path. Haste with thy sickle while the sun still shines, And pluck thou some as sheaves, ere comes the day of wrath. Fields that are wide and white invite thy willing hand ; Hearts that are sad would prize thy prayer and smile. Haste with thy message over sea and land For comes the harvest-hour in just a little while. And He whose crown and throne the ages bring apace, Stands to receive the sheaves we gather in. Crowns in the throne room where they see His face, Are for the reapers glad, who pluck from paths of sin. 66 Alone with God. ?3 LONE with God, in the mountain height, Apart from the world and men ; High up in the clearer air and light, Where the towering peaks declare His might - His praise repeat again. Alone with God, in the dark, deep wood, With naught but the song birds lay, In groves where first His temple stood, Where flower and leaf proclaim Him good, Who dwells in endless day. Alone with God, where the stillness dwells, And trees their chorus bring ; Where streams and birds the tribute swells, Which Nature in the woodland tells Of Nature s lavish King. Alone with God, fit place to hear His voice speak to the heart ; With spirit hushed the soul draws near, While naught distracts or genders fear From all the world apart. Ossipee Mountain, 1904. 6 7 The Hrlls of Home. 73 CROSS the lake, now locked in ice, O er islands forest grown, There rises toward the wintry sky, The snow-clad hills of home. Fair triple peaks, in snowy garb, Their patient ward still keeping Above the scenes of childhood days, And graves of kindred sleeping. They guard the hills, the lake, the plain, Through sun and wintry weather ; They watch through all above my home, And o er my blessed mother. They break from her the northern blast, A morning sun-kiss flinging, When shadows fill the western slopes Where icy brooks are singing. From far or near, in calm or storm, Where er I chance to roam, Because they guard so much I love, Dear are the hills of home. 68 From the Hilltop by Ni$ht. ?J1 LONE to the hilltop I wandered One starry November night, To gaze on a world wrapped in slumber, Seen dim by the moon s pale light. All was still ; and no sound was heard Save the roar of the mountain brook sweeping Man and beast had alike retired to rest, And all were quietly sleeping. At the foot of the hill lay the village, Wrapped in quiet and somber repose, Partly hid from view by the towering wood That tall on the hillside grows. The church spire reared its lofty form And gleamed in the moon s pale light, A sentinel s watch o er the village to keep, Through the silent hours of night. While back of the church lay the sleeping dead, Enshrouded in deathly gloom ; They who once these hills and valleys trod, Sleep there in the narrow tomb. Melvin Village, 1878. 6 9 Glen Haven. TH/TIHERE towering mountains lift their heads Around Glen Haven home, Where tropic verdure thickly spreads Its green from base to cone ; Mid singing brooks from mossy glen, Neath waving palm and fern, I dream and muse, and take my pen To write the thoughts that burn. But wandering thought wild truant plays, And little heeds my call ; It climbs to tread in fairy ways, By dell and waterfall. It peers in caverns lone and damp, Where moss and lichens grow ; Adown the depths it lights its lamp, And plucks a fern below. It waits to listen while the brook Its merry sonnet sings, As coursing down by bend and crook, It comes from mountain springs The golden ferns, companions meet, It plucks for love mementoes ; It takes its fill of perfume sweet Which comes from spice pimentoes. 70 Ligtits of Home It vies with humming birds to drink The sweet from nodding flowers, From orange blossoms white and pink, That glow in sunny bowers. It plucks a rose of jessamine Where bees and hummers rally, And culls the tips of trailing vine That grows along the valley. But here it stops to breathe the prayer, That peace and joy abiding, And favoring breezes ever fair, For these in God confiding, May bless their days and cottage fair, Where springs from mountains sally, Where scent of roses fills the air The fair Glen Haven valley. Glen Haven, Cedar Valley, Jamaica, 1886. On the Train. iCASTER and faster o er rail of steel, *" Plunging a headlong pace ; Madly led by the driving wheel Led and drove till a brain would reel On in the whirling race. Over the bridges with crash and roar, On in the driving storm ; Past hill and dale and farmhouse door, The scenes that flash but come no more, Each one a phantom form. And such is life end ever nigh In speed a Jehu spright ; The days like plunging shuttles fly, Or clouds that race in a wintry sky, Or sweep of a comet s light. But some glad day the city fair, Its portal wide shall swing ; And Palace Grand and Sleeping-car, From ages past and climes afar, Shall to that heavenly station bring Their mighty, countless, travelled host, To greet the waiting King. Boston, 1899. 72 Beyond the Hills. *ft5EYOND the purpling hills where evening shadows fall Beyond the gloaming and the night, My heart discerns a brighter light, My soul enkindles with the sight, While angel voices call. Across the murmuring waves whose music never dies, Across the past and coming years, The heart delivered from its fears, The eye from sorrow s falling tears, Shall rest neath fairer skies. When passes by earth s latest day and fades her night ; When passes by the last of care, Where naught of sin or tempting snare Shall mar or reach that world so fair, My heart shall hail its light. Not there but here, the needle points the far-off pole ; But there, beyond the things of sight, Faith sees the rising, dawning light, Eternal day without a night The storm-tossed sailor s goal. 73 The Sunset Shore. IIXASSED the sunrising, passed the high noon, "^ Passed all the day s burdens we bore ; Drifting away from the mooring so soon, Passed the last headland and under the moon, On to the sunset shore. Clouds that were rolling as billows in might, The home of the loud thunder s roar, Are now calmly restful and bearers of light, Reminders of morning and heralds of night, Pointing the sunset shore. And so we drift on from the morning of life, Its pleasures recede more and more ; Drifting from childhood so joyous and blithe, Out in life s sorrow and into its strife On to the sunset shore. But faith sees beyond a far brighter clime, It gladdens the heart o er and o er A landscape and glory which this shall outshine, A world where old friendships again shall be mine, Eternity s sunrise shore. Evening on Bay of Fundy, 1901. 74 My Mother s Arms. 71 Til HAT a refuge from alarms Were her arms My mother s arms ; Folded soft in infant rest, Like a birdling in its nest, Ne er such pillow as her breast In my mother s arms. As the sea subdued by calms Were her arms My mother s arms. There were soothed my childish fears, There were dried my troubled tears, There were passed the sweetest years, In my mother s arms. Came no ill that ever harms In her arms My mother s arms ; Soft and crooning lullaby, Calmed in sleep each childish sigh, Quickly passed all troubles by In my mother s arms. 75 Ligtits of Home Sweeter e en than music s charms, Were her arms My mother s arms. Years have brought their ill and pain, Falling seed and ripened grain, But no sin or sorrow came, In my mother s arms. Old and thin with bearing balms, Are her arms My mother s arms ; Balms for healing others woe, Toil for those who love her so, Worn with labor to and fro, Are my mother s arms. Some glad day with joyous psalms In her arms My mother s arms, May I find the higher joy, While she finds with heaven her boy, Nothing shall that peace annoy, In my mother s arms. \IX Dreams. THE dreams, the dreams ! the bandit dreams ! They steal us away to bygone scenes ; They take our hand with a magic power, In the depth of night or morning hour, And carry us, willing captives back, O er the freshened scenes of the backward track, Oh, the spell of these magical dreams. They take us out from the present life, And lead apart from its anxious strife ; They sit us down by quiet banks, Where we swam or played with childish pranks ; They strike once more the chords long dumb, And wake the forgotten songs of home, They tantalize these maddening dreams. They bring the friend we see no more, They give their greetings o er and o er ; We sit again in well-known places, And have the joy of long-lost faces. And the kindled glow of departed days Comes back afresh in the tangled maze Of these haunting, transient dreams. 77 Ligtits of Home But if these link for a happy twain, Receding years that ne er come again, And hope shall gather of future bliss, And pour its joy on a world like this, The past and future shall be a bow, And shed their light on the midway Now Through hope and the midnight dreams. At the Grave of Annie Kempton. C1LEEP on brave girl ! Though early set thy sun in cloud of woe ; And thou the victim of outrageous crime. A pitying Province mourns thy fate, And weaves its garland of undying praise For thy heroic struggle, that lost thee life, But left thee that more dear Thine own and woman s honor. Bear River, N. S., 1897. 73 Throne of Love. 1 THRONE of love, mid matchless glory shrined, Where seraphs chant the endless hymn of praise ; Thy might and splendor to us undivined Without decrease, shalt last through endless days. Earth s poor dominions pass, as fades the flower ; Their monarchs proud have reached the lowly bed ; Our fairest and the strongest wait the hour Which numbers kings and peasants with the dead. O King eternal ! conquering all my hate, Who leads me now the law of love to own, My heart shall crown Thee in the highest seat, With joy adore before Thy conquering throne. Blest source of light that gives me rest and cheer, And oft inspires the hope that here might cease, Which gives to pilgrims spring throughout the year, And girds its worshipers with lasting peace, Rule Thou without, within, O throne of love, Bind every foe who shall Thy will disown ; Reign thou below as Thou dost rule above, O source of life, Thou glory-circled throne ! And when man s frail dominion here shall cease, The last of kingly scepters pass away, O throne of love 1 bring Thou the reign of peace, The long-desired, the glad, millennial day. Boston, 1910. 79 Stronger Than Sword or Pen. sweeps adown the ages, With brand of fire, And glutted ire. Homes melt along its ruthless track ; Nations go down amid its shock, And empires in its tremors rock. Within the scabbard gathers rust ; The poniard leads to gore and lust ; Sad be the day The sword holds sway. Clash of cylinder, roar of wheels A flame of thought, In letters wrought. Pouring tides of printed page ; Fire of youth and strength of sage A chain to bind the passing age. Back of press and type the pen, Back of these the brain of men Improved the day When these hold sway. 80 Lights of Home Far on the Galilean shore, Rises the One From ages born. No fortress towers engage His plan ; No call He gives to marshalled men Mark well His power all ye who can. His throne the trusting contrite heart, His joy to share the world s hard part ; Glad is the day When He holds sway. Across the grave sweeps in a light ; Death s bolts give way ! See where He lay ! Swing back ye gates forevermore ! Lift up for Him eternal door ! Bring in His reign from shore to shore. Higher than sword, or pen, or brain, We own His power and right to reign ; Blest King of men, Return again. Boston, 1904. 81 An Evening Reverie. /TOME, wife, and play me a hymn to-night, For a heart subdued and dumb ; Some soothing air in the dim twilight, Or snatch of an old home song. Play me or sing of the home we knew, Ere care or a sorrow came ; For my thought goes back again with you, To many a face and name, That now comes back in memory s dreams Such as night o er the twilights shed Who passed too soon from the earthly scenes, And have long slept with the dead. Play to me soft for I m out of tune To-night with the loud or gay A song that breathes of the flowers of June, Or the fresh green fields of May. Then sing to me last a song of cheer, Of a day and clime more fair, Where the note of joy ne er ends in fear, And the perfume on the air Shall be as the balm of summer skies, Where the days decline no more ; And sorrow out of a fair world dies, Like a wave spent on the shore. BottOQ, 1901. 82 The Dream of School Days. > 7TWAS a dream canoe, but it gaily sped, Over the moon-lit bay ; And the twinkling light of the stars o erhead Down on the silvery sheen was shed, Where the sleeping waters lay. The mountain form and the forest isle Seemingly side by side Rose on the sky with a spectral smile, And their darkling shadows throw awhile, Afar on the shimmering tide. A sound of paddles and merry glee Rose on the evening air, And childhood lovers glad and free, Sang to the echo of rock and tree, A merry, romping pair. No care beguiled that dreamland hour ; The past no sorrow bore ; The future seemed a happy bower, Aglow with vine and bud and flower, And calm from shore to shore. But dream and lover are passed away ; The one with the morning light ; The other sleeps by the moon-lit bay, In sound of the murmuring ripples lay, Under the stars of night. Winnipesaukee. Spirit "Haunt of the Indian brave Where oft his changing camp-fires glowed ; Or dusky maiden deftly cleft the wave, Or bore to land the huntsman s treasure load. Demure, o er dim and smouldering fagot-fires ; Alert and keen on trail of beast or foe ; A child of nature, simple in his plain desires These were the haunts the Redmen loved to know. Their flinty tools are on the pebbly shore, Where watch and ward still keeping, The towering mountains guard forevermore The graves where they are sleeping. Yet these dark sons the one great Spirit knew ; And thou fair lake, in shore, and bay, and isle, Shalt teach again their humble faith so true Thy charm for us is still the Spirit s smile. Alton Bay, 1907. *An Indian name, meaning in the Indian language, "Smile of the great Spirit." 84 Chambers of the Kin. *IIN the chambers of the King as a guest We have access, after leanness, to the best ; All the hurry and the tumult dies away, And the spirit through its Advocate can pray ; In the chambers of the King, there is rest. In the busy tides of life, cares annoy, And the gold is here a mixture of alloy ; But within this calm and holy resting place, We have glimpses of His glory and His face ; In the chambers of the King, there is joy. For the prisoners of hope there s release ; Here the conflicts of the spirit all may cease ; Though without the storm increases with the night, And we re weary in our waiting for the light ; In the chambers of the King, there is peace. Like the pilgrims of the olden time we roam, And with Jacob, have our visions on the stone ; But the coming of the Master draweth near, And the final gladsome meeting in the air ; In the chambers of the King, there ll be home. Calvary. 7TNRAW near my soul to Calv ry, Thy Saviour see ; Hear now His plaintive cry, Breathed there for thee. On Him thy sin was laid ; His blood thy debt has paid ; The cross thy peace hath made ; He died for thee. Fount of all peace and cleansing, By Thee made whole ; Saviour, I yield my heart, Reign in my soul. As Thou hast suffered long, Thy love shall be my song ; While with the blood-bought throng Blest ages roll. Come Thou, O Prince and Saviour, We wait for Thee; No more shall sorrow s crown Thy garland be. But crowns of empire own, Thy universal throne, All sin and pain unknown Eternally. 86 The World s New Hope. Tfc-tARBINGER of hope the morn that gave Him back, When groped the world in more than twilight gloom ; His cheering light which fell upon man s track, Leaving of joy, of love, and hope no lack, Had faded at the tomb. Love lingered long without the portals grim, Where clinging hope had waned and then expired ; The seal and guard of Rome were over Him, Who calmly slept the rock-hewn tomb within, In shroud of death attired. But down celestial pathways swift and strong, Came other guards whose power no seals oppose ; The stone rolled back in scorning sat upon ; The angel whispered " morning " to the sleeping One, And Christ in triumph rose. Rose as a king with power and might divine ; And conquered death yields scepter, charge and reign ; A glad new hope o er all the earth doth shine ; Hope for the dead, yes gladsome hope for mine, Where comes no ill or pain. Boston, 1901. Gome Back Again. Tl/njELCOME, thou sovereign King of grace, We long, we long to see Thy face ; Our hearts are weary of delay, When, when shall come the promised day? Come, make the cloud that bore Thee hence Thy chariot back for our defense ; We own Thy sovereign right to reign Come back, come back to earth again. Rulers and people call Thy name, But seek instead for earthly fame, And justice holds uneven hand Thy glory fills not all the land. Thy throne, long vacant here below, Needs Thee, as do Thy children, too ; Return, Thy right and rule maintain, Come back, come back to earth again. Thy heralds, now in every land, Proclaim Thy kingdom near at hand ; Thy bride has long her vigil kept, In weariness Thine absence wept ; How long, how long must she still wait Thy coming at the eastern gate? She still her would-be lovers spurn, And waits in hope for Thy return. 88 L/igtits of Home Delay not more, we longing cry, Come back and let us see Thee nigh ; Come, and restore our dead who sleep, Come, dry the tears of those who weep ; Answer our prayer, " Thy kingdom come, Thy will again on earth be done ;" Thy bride still gives her heart s refrain Come back, come back to earth again. The Church in Revival. TTHE drum-beat of the marching host, Rolls out from far and near ; While wail of dying thousands lost, Falls sadly on the ear. A cloud above the sea is risen, A sound of rain is heard, While opened are the gates of heaven, And waiting is the Lord. He s waiting still His church to bless, To lead the wandering home ; And loving sinners to confess, Who cease in sin to roam. March on, thou bannered army bright, Thy victories increase, Till thousands turn from sin to right, And own the Prince of Peace. 89 Shasta Terns and Mosses. JCAIR mosses and ferns of the Shasta slope, *" That sway by the purling stream, Away from the city s dust and smoke, A mass of living green. You rise and fall in the mist and spray, Where the springs their flow let down ; You kiss the stream as it speeds away, And give to the rocks a crown. You clothe the dells where the sun shines not, And rare the foot-fall s tread ; You make of the crude a beauty spot, And wide your verdures spread. We feel the rest of your quiet grace, The breath of your dripping nod ; We smile to you in this cooling place, But yours is the smile of God. Shasta Springs, Cal., 1911. 9 Lone Grave in the Palms. THQIHERE tropic breezes gently blow, And graceful bamboos wave, Beneath the palm and mango shade I found a lonely grave. Not like the cherished mounds at home, By loving hands attended, Where flowers and tears from loving friends Are oft together blended ; Where quiet steps are often traced When memories sad may rise, And grief may pour its offering out O er where its idol lies. But here one sleeps neath sunny skies, Where seasons little vary, Far from her early childhood s home Some one s " beloved Mary." No tended grounds or well-worn path, Or urn oft filled with flowers, Tells of fresh love for her who sleeps Beneath these leafy bowers. The marble slab that gives her name And tells so brief a tale, Is moss-grown in damp of years And passing breeze and gale. Ligtits of Home While tropic ferns of gentle hue Trail down the bricken tomb, As if their beauty might light up Some taper in the gloom. With saddened heart that one so young Should like the flowers fail, I turned my steps to find a friend, And listened to the tale. Twas in a Western prairie home A maiden fair was reared ; Where friendship smiled and love made glad, And God was loved and feared. But childhood passed and school days o er, Her youthful heart was stirred For those in darkness, who of Christ And heaven had scarcely heard. Forsaking home and kindred dear, And breaking earthly ties, Devoted Mary crossed the sea To work neath sunnier skies. Jamaica fair, the isle of flowers, Became her field of care, And sights of wretchedness and want Gave earnestness in prayer. Lights of Home From thatch-roofed huts far up the hills, And from the vales below, Came pickaninnies to her school Neath where the bamboos grow. Thus day by day with patient mien She wrought on mind and heart, Rejoiced in hardship s lot to share And bear of toil her part. Wooed now by one who loved her well, And joyed her lot to share A servant in his Master s work, One strong in faith and prayer, She gave her heart and hand to him, In holy bonds to live, And joined to share with him in life, What life for them might give. A pretty home in beauty smiled, And tropic verdure spread Its wealth of green on hill and dale, While from the sky o erhead, The evening stars with brilliant light Looked kindly down to own The love and joy of two young hearts, In this their new-made home. 93 Lights of Home Here gladly would I close the tale ; The sweet ne er mix with gall ; Nor let the spectral shadows on A pleasant picture fall. But fairest flowers have their thorns ; The sunniest day its night ; And oft the fruit that fairest seems Is lost by early blight. The fever came, and Mary tossed With throbbing pulse and chill ; And though hope lingered by her cot, The symptoms boded ill. Hope fled at last and death drew near ; The child her race had trod ; 1 Dust unto dust " the mandate came ; The spirit to its God. In anguish on the barbecue, With heart that sank like lead, The stricken husband strode and cried, " God ! is my Mary dead ?" The evening breeze which cooled his brow, And seemed to sympathize, And stars that looked in kindness down From out the distant skies, 94 Lights of Home With kindest words were all in vain To heal the riven heart ; For earth has scarce a keener grief Than when two such may part. Thus far from home and kindred friends, Of age but " twenty-three," Loved " Mary" filled a stranger s grave, Across the rolling sea. Years nine and twenty now have passed Since first that shadow came ; The breezes blow, the stars still shine, And she sleeps on the same. Where he may be who loved her well And gave her heart and hand, I may not know perhaps has found - Rest in a distant land. Where home may be, and early kin, And where the loving mother, I may not know while in this life I may when in the other. Alive or dead, they re far away, And Mary sleeps alone ; May angels guard her resting place Beneath this mossy stone. 95 But now for love I bear to Him Whom Mary loved so well, And for the cause she loved to serve, This story now I tell ; And plant a flower beside her grave, And may it live to bloom Till angel voices from the sky Shall cleave this lonely tomb. For those who loved this Mary well And wish their presence here, I plant in tenderness the rose, And drop a falling tear. For I, too, have across the sea, A grave neath oaken bowers, Where sleeps the choice of early years, A fairest of earth s flowers. And if, perchance, I wander far Neath bright or darkened skies, May kind hands there a token plant, O er where my sleeper lies. Where tropic breezes gently blow, And graceful bamboos wave ; Beneath the palm and mango shade, Is Mary s lonely grave. Providence, Jamaica, Feb., 1886. 9 6 Evening at Avalon. ADING sunset in the west, Twilight on the sea ; Evening shadows tell of rest, And the night to be. Fisher boats swing with the tide On the homeward way ; Shadows on the mountain side Warn of parting day. Harbor lights and lights of land, Shed a radiance wide Shine to light the mall and strand- Shimmer on the tide. Music lends its magic spell, Evening stars look on ; Who but loves thee long and well, Charming Avalon ? Santo Catalina, Cal., July, 1911. 97 When Mother Tucked Me In. TT HE old days somehow have been coming back, Nor are the new quite what the old have been ; I ve dreamed of childhood on this backward tack, The nights at home when mother tucked me in. The day of childish weariness was o er, Stored were its toys and ceased its tops to spin ; My dreamland bark had well-nigh left the shore, When mother came and fondly tucked me in. Twas no vain kiss, or fondness feigned in greed ; In her pure love there was no dross or tin ; My home had ministries for childish need The best of all when mother tucked me in. The world has had its grim and harsher tone, Its galling care, its weight of ill and sin ; But memory turns to restful nights at home, When mother came and kindly tucked me in. She s older grown, and bending is her frame, Her toil-worn hands have with the years grown thin ; But she receives me home with old-time love the same, And comes again at night and tucks me in. Sad childish lives, bereft of mother care, Street waifs in homelessness and want and sin, What grief and loss, what barrenness of fare For them no mother comes and tucks them in. Boston, 1912. A Grandfather s Confession. C+IHE D been away and left me quite alone, For good grandmas are handy oftentime ; But here s her greeting when she came back home, " I tell you what, that baby s something fine." Twas bald and thin and weak and very red, Yet in her eyes twas just a beauty mine ; Only a proud young grandma could have said, " I tell you what, that baby s something fine." I mildly tried to check her eager praise, Tone down her view to prose or safer rhyme ;, But all in vain ! I heard through other days, " I tell you what, that baby s something fine." She goes and comes and goes quite often now, Though of her errands I can scarce repine ; It pays to hear her tell each time somehow, " I tell you what, that baby s something fine." 99 Lightta of Home Tis well God gives to mothers, mother love, Nor wanes when children s children round it twine Its yearning tenderness, like that above, Has ready note "That baby s something fine." The grandma wins ! Tis but a woman s way ; Tis here a little and the " line on line ;" I m slowly yielding as I hear her say, " I tell you what ! that baby s something fine." Tis later now and I ve been out to see The babe they say that looks as once did mine ; I guess the grandma s view has taken me, I tell you what ! that baby s something fine. Boston, 1913. IOO The Bridegroom s at the Gate. CJ1OON shall the passing night Fade off the western sky ; There rises high the eastern light, That tells the day is nigh. Long have the shadows been On heart and home and plain ; Long now has been earth s reign of sin, And long her night of pain. But shadows soon shall break, Where wait the martyr dead In resurrection life to wake, And rise to meet their Head. The morning comes at length ; Awake, O earth, and sing ! Church of the ages, gird thy strength, With day shall come thy King. Hast thou thy message given On street and lone byway? Haste, then, thy task, for on the heaven Are signs that herald day. My soul thy case prepare, Trim well thy lamp and wait ; The night gives place to morning fair, The Bridegroom s at the gate, Boston, 1913, 101 Burdens. *fl5URDENS of poverty, burdens in wealth, Burdens in sickness, burdens in health ; Burdens for all men wherever they roam, Burdens in travel, burdens at home. Burdens for muscles, burdens for brain, Burdens of sickness, burdens of pain ; Burdens for toilers within cottage walls, Burdens for princes in bright palace halls. Burdens of empire for rulers of state, Burdens for judges who sit in the gate ; Burdens for people who bend to their toil, Loads that grow heavy beneath the hard moil. Burdens in factory and burdens on farm, Burdens of market in panic s alarm Office and counting room gilded and fair, Burdens of finance, burdens of care. Burdens of childhood, in fancy and truth, Mixing and marring the pleasures of youth ; Burdens that vent of their sharpness in tears, Throwing their shadow along through the years. 102 Lights of Home Burdens for mothers who toil, yet with joy, Shielding the daughter, guiding the boy ; Burdens of bread, of schooling, of life, Burdens and care for mother and wife. Burdens for fathers in toiling and plan, Burdens competing his shrewd fellow man, Facing the world with its grinding and greed, Toiling for others, meeting their need. Burdens for doubting and some for belief, Burdens that have in their bearing relief ; Burdens that cast their dark shade on the years, Some of them heavy because of our fears. Burdens of sorrow when grief holdeth sway, Casting their spell on the round of the day, Heavy as millstones their presence by night, Burdens of darkness that carry no light. Burdens of widowhood, care upon care, Shadows that follow and cling everywhere ; Fragrant through bearing though heavier yet, Holding a sad joy we never forget. Burdens we whisper, but some of them keep, Burdens so heavy, yet some of them sweet, Linking the bright past with fetters of gold, To all the high hopes that the future may hold. Lights of Home Burdens of youth, of manhood, of age, Surely are written on life s every page ; Burdens for high and burdens for low, Burdens to carry wherever we go. Burdens where fiercely the northern blasts beat, Burdens beneath the high tropic sun s heat ; Burdens of East and burdens of West, Each of them heavy, none of them best. Master, Thou bearer of sorrows and men, We bring at thy bidding our burdens again ; Though heavy they grow with passing of years, And often their bearing grows lighter with tears, We ask not relief from their weight and stress, Nor that they in number be made for us less ; We ask but the vision of men who have trod Their pathway in courage with duty and God ; We crave for life s tasks but grace for our day, Thy comfort and Presence with us on the way ; This granted, our burdens grow lighter again, Thou Bearer of sorrows, of burdens, of men. Boston, 1913. 104 Lake Marion. On Mt. Abbott, at Glacier in the Canadian Selkirks. TllTflALLED by the mountains grim and high And fed by the glacier stream, Reflecting shore and mount and sky Gem for an artist s dream. Thy placid surface bears in charm The circling mountains far ; Thine is the deeper restful calm Where sleeps the midnight star. Gem in the Selkirks snow-girt crown, Tear on the mountain s face, You bear the deep wood forest s frown, Yet smile with a maiden s grace. Your lovers come from far and wide, Your charms their hearts shall chain ; Yours is the joy of waiting bride, Whose bridegroom comes again. Pebble and beach and placid face, Graceful mirror of mountains far ; Sharing with us a heavenly grace, Cradling sun and star. Give Us Great Thoughts. IVE us high thoughts, commensurate to the hour, Born of large vision, thrilled from hidden power ; Such view as points the heart its higher goal, And stirs to newer life the sluggish soul. Be ours to know and feel the good in men, Yet shun the wrong with ever high disdain ; To heed the call of duty and of right, Nor measure justice with the reed of might. Save us from those who narrow to their span, The broader vision of the higher man ; Who mend the ill of their fond narrowness, By adding long and louder emphasis. Take from us self, and seeking, lest we fall, Give us to hear, in whispers e en, Thy call, The soul to feel that crowning vision wide, And trust of faith as full as ocean s tide. We crave a heart illumed, enlarged to feel The deeper need of our poor human weal ; The deepening joy of ever rising faith, Triumph at last that conquers life from death. 1 06 Limits of Time and Vision. TIME ! So restless and so hurrying, Pause yet a while nor haste so on the way ; Your swiftly coming tasks my plans are burying ; The flying hours make short my toiling day. E er morning hours are well in their unfolding, Tis noon, then night, nor is my labor done ; I press my task the waning hours beholding, Then see, too soon, the swiftly setting sun. The lore of time allures ; my fancy treading Finds high companionship from out the past, Where through the fanes of wider knowledge threading, I touch the fringes of a world so vast. 1 need long years in place of fleeting hours, To range those fields and reap their ripened grain ; To know the scent and grace of wayside flowers, That shall not bloom in all the world again. 107 Lights of Home But here around is e en a vaster present, Ten thousand avenues of brightly lighted way, Where changing vistas of an aspect pleasant, Make bright and glad the swiftly passing day. And with the years comes life s far deeper meaning, The inner joy of thought, of view, of friend ; Of springing faith from out the cold world s seeming, Earth s brighter hope that with her sorrows blend. Beyond it all are fields our powers transcending, The larger range of thought, of art, of song ; Beyond the limit of our power s ending, Ungarnered fruit and vistas bright and long. As chafes a bird behind the bars confining, That longs to try its wing on spaces wide, So yields the heart its meed of sore repining, That in like narrow confines it must bide. Nor time nor space are ours for full, wide roving, Nor power nor wing for such a grasp or flight ; Ours the small quest, life s common problems solving, In light that ever reaches for the light. But on another shore 1 trust for time unfailing To clear the doubts that here beset the way ; Of larger grasp and perfect strength availing, And clearer vision in a brighter day. 1 08 Lights of Home In that clear air where time and strength are given, And life and joys in fuller measure come, That all abounding fullness shall be heaven, The Father s house whose children gather home. In all that clime shall be no incompletion, Heaven shall its measure fill to overflow ; Our hopes shall fruit in full and glad fruition, As light to light and age to age shall grow. 109 A 000 583 787 7