Mt THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES THE BRIGHT SPOT NEAR OSBORNE HOUSE, AND OTHER POEMS. THE BRIGHT SPOT NEAR OSBORNE HOUSE, AND OTHER POEMS. GLOWWORM. Hon&on : SAMPSON LOW, MARSTON, LOW, & SEARLE, CROWN BUILDINGS, 1 88, FLEET STREET. 1872. PRINTED Bi' R. FOLKARD AND SONS, DEVONSHIRE STREET, LONDON, W.C. 3?s^i " GATES AJAR." i. Ye "jasper walls" of glory ! What tongue can speak the story Of all the forms of life within your spacious bound? No eye hath seen the treasures, No heart conceived the pleasures, Which in your gardens fair eternally are found. 88 GATES AJAR. II. rare and princely dwelling, Beyond a mortal's telling ! Thy matchless purity no human mind can know : Where temples are not needed, Nor temple-rites are heeded ; Where Church contentions cease, and hearts with praises glow. in. Ye " many mansions " gleaming With love that's never seeming — Where scattered friendships meet to separate no more; Where hearts are never dreary, And limbs are never weary, The home where we shall love as we never loved before ! GATES AJAR. 89 IV. O world all worlds excelling, Where anthem-notes are swelling ! I sigh to hear thy music and join thy choral bands; Where quenchless light is shining, And life knows no declining, And angel footsteps glide along thy golden sands. Ye pearly " gates ajar," I see you from afar, And wait for swift, glad wings to reach your peaceful shore ; Where friends are all " in waiting," At gates that know no grating, And never have been closed since they went on before ! " HEDGED IN." WRITTEN AFTER READING E. S. PHELPS' INTERESTING LITTLE BOOK, ENTITLED "HEDGED IN." We're stumbling sadly every day — Ourselves to blame alone — By putting from us as vile clay Some choice and precious stone. 'Tis true that many whom we meet, Like stones unclean and coarse, Are but the refuse of the street, And go from " bad to worse." HEDGED IN. 91 But there are those who, like a star Conceal'd behind a cloud, Would shine as jewels from afar, Did not our mists enshroud. We stand apart at distance great Behind our fences high, Surprised to learn, when oft too late, That angels have pass'd by. Tis not till Jesus comes to us, With His bright searching lamp, That, like the old blind Pharisees, We see the golden stamp. We see the Saviour clean the coin He found on sin's highway ; And then we hear His voice enjoin The coin no more to stray. 9 2 HEDGED IN. And, thus rebuked, we go to learn The meaning of that word : " Into ' highways and hedges ' turn, And show the love of God." To me, O Lord, the sight impart- To me the spirit give To read aright Thy tender heart, And tenderly to live. So when across my path shall come Some wandering child of sin, Led to Thy heart, as to a home, I will pronounce her clean. HOW A CHILD CORRECTED HER FATHER'S BAD SPELLING. The sceptic's child of tender years Lay dying in a dismal room, While peace within did scatter fears, And light from heaven dispersed the gloom. Beneath that roof a darkness dwelt — A darkness denser than the night ; The sceptic's heart had never felt The joyous beams of heavenly light. 94 HOW A CHILD CORRECTED With heart as hard as mind was dark, He swore himself the foe of Truth ; And sought to quench the sacred spark That glow'd within the heart of youth. " My child," he said, " renounce the creed Imparted in the Sabbath school ; A father's admonition heed, Nor turn it now to ridicule." And thereupon the chalk he took, And wrote upon the barefaced wall His creed, whereon the child might look Before she heard the mortal call. He wrote with firm and steady hand — He made the letters boldly stare ; And then before them made a stand, To read the words, — " God is no za/iere." HER FATHER'S BAD SPELLING. 95 To simple faith's instinctive light The sentence strange shone out all clear ; Her heart denied the sense of sight, And spelt it thus : — " God-is-no-w-here /" The sceptic's heart began to melt, The fountain seal'd broke out in tears ; Before the God of Truth he knelt, To find His grace who always hears. How much mis-spelling thus exists Where Reason takes the place of Faith ! The mind, obscured by sceptic mists, Perverts what revelation saith. 'Tis to the child Truth ever speaks, Where clouds obstruct not heavenly rays ; O'er simple minds a glory streaks, Reflecting back to God its praise. 96 A child's correction. Block up the course of waters clear, And o'er the banks the streams will flow, _ To gladden little children near, In rivulets that sing and glow. The gates that lead to Truth's grand dome Are straightly shut to Reason's pride ; What multitudes outside do roam, While to the child they open wide ! Within those gates the humble mind Beholds interpretations bright, Which sceptic hearts can never find, Thro' unbelief's refracted light. CHARITY. LINES ON A BEAUTIFUL PICTURE. Strong billows heaved with swelling waves, and dash'd Their spray about the broken spars that floated Round a shipwreck'd form. With imploring look — Bespeaking, too, an agonizing purpose — She lifted a prayer to heaven, and ask'd That God would strengthen her weak hands, to clasp The only refuge from the yawning waste Of waters. 98 CHARITY. By the light of the glimmering rays, that fell Thro' the riven murky clouds, I saw her Safely reach the rock, the dripping waters Falling from her flowing robes. I beheld her once more direct her gaze To heaven, to thank and bless the helping hand Of her great Deliverer. Then turning, And glancing round, she spied a sinking sister, Whose outstretch'd hand was quickly seized, and held, Until her feet were on the sheltering rock. The gleams of light now fell in copious streams, Radiating the countenance, and sunning The breast, and impurpling the robes of her Whose name was thenceforth " Charity." I stood and look'd, and meditated long ; And wonder'd how it was that painter's brush CHARITY. 99 Could put upon the canvas forms that draw The falling tears from the admiring eyes Of those who, day by day, behold the souls Of shipwreck'd sisters, and who pass them by With cold and haughty looks, and pitiless scorn, — As tho' a human soul, with God's own image Stamp'd, were of less consequence than a few Choice colours thrown upon a bare canvas By a well-skill'd hand. j— a SAFETY AND PEACE. Simon Peter saith unto Him, Lord, not my feet only, but also my hands and my head." — John xiii., 9. Lord, Thou hast cleansed me ; keep me clean ! Protect my priestly robes from stain ; Defend me from accusing pain ; And keep my conscience all serene. Lord, Thou hast cleansed me ; keep me clean . Keep Thou my thoughts from sinful blight, And let my mind be pure and bright — All burnish'd with a mental sheen. SAFETY AND PEACE. 10 1 Lord, Thou hast cleansed me ; keep me clean ! Keep Thou the sandals of my feet, While walking thro' life's dusty street ; Let not defiling soil be seen. Lord, Thou hast cleansed me ; keep me clean ! Secure my hands in work for Thee, And make me know the liberty That will not do the thing that's mean. Lord, Thou hast cleansed me ; keep me clean ! Enclose my heart with love's pure flame, And on that heart write Thy bright name, And let not idols intervene. Thus, gracious Lord, preserve me clean ! Enfold me by Thy sheltering wing, That I to Thee may closely cling, And make Thy wing my radiant screen. THE YEAR OF LIFE Looking at the trees in spring Spreading out their tender leaves, I have seen those leaflets cling To their stems like smiling sheaves ; And the next day I have seen, Floating on the stormy breeze, New-born hopes of spring all green For the trodden soil to seize. THE YEAR OF LIFE. 103 II. I have seen an infant cling To the mother's loving breast, — Life that made that mother sing, As her babe she fondly prest. But before another day I beheld that mother's grief, Weeping o'er the mortal clay Of her fresh-born wither'd leaf. in. In the early summer's morn, Ere the leaves are fully green — Ere full summer's life is born, On the ground young leaves are seen : Emblem of the blighted bloom Of the youth whose life was brief— Summon'd to an early tomb, There to lie like faded leaf. 104 THE YEAR OF LIFE. IV. In midsummer's sultry day, When the trees are fully grown, We may see the sodden clay Where the full-blown leaves are strown Teaching thus the busy brain, — Bow'd before its idol-chief, All intent on making gain, — Life may close in summer leaf. v. When the autumn tempests blow, And grey shades begin to fall, — When the flowers no longer grow, And the echoes cease to call, — When the old man's steps are few, Followed close by mortal thief, — Then the grave appears in view, And he falls with autumn leaf. THE YEAR OF LIFE. I°5 VI. Thus at every stage of life— In all seasons of our year — Life is short, and death is rife, Everywhere we see the bier. Oh, thou prophet of a leaf ! To my heart thy message send ; Then my year, however brief, Shall accomplish life's great end. A FAREWELL SONG. We meet our friends in gladness, Whom time hath parted long ; And for a while all sadness Gives place to words of song : Then hearts and hands, By love's bright bands, Are clasp'd in friendship strong. A FAREWELL SONG. I°7 II. The hours with rapid motion Steal on, and cannot stay ; Like streams that glide to ocean They will not brook delay : The hours are few ; "Farewell!" "Adieu!" We then are heard to say. in. Our pleasures here are fading, But lasting joys are near ; Our sun is ever waning, But Heaven's light is clear : Then marriage bells, And no farewells, We evermore shall hear. io8 A FAREWELL SONG. IV. Thus hope amidst our sorrow Shall linger in the heart, Expecting a bright morrow When tears shall cease to start- When hearts and hands, In blissful lands, Shall not be forced to part. ^y> "ALL PAINT; NO BRUSH." The words at the head of this poem were casually uttered by an unknown speaker. They have been used to illustrate Life's incomplete- ness and unfinished work. What fine talent and choice colours would be to a painter without the brush, such are mental, and material, and all other endowments without a high moral purpose in life. Human life- work is, too often, nothing better than a moral daub, for want of the proper brush. Hearing at my window sash Speech, too often vainly spoke, Suddenly my mind awoke By the words, "All paint; no brush." What the stranger thereby taught, Afterwards I did not learn ; But my soul could soon discern That the words were full of thought. no all paint; no brush. Presently I felt a rush Of strange things within my mind ; And I straightway sought to find For my thoughts both paint and brush. So I sketch'd within my book Visions floating thro' my brain, Visions of the mighty slain, Whereupon the mind might look ; — Visions of great picture halls, Where the works of men were shown, Where bright paint was rudely thrown On those Exhibition walls : — Pictures of fantastic forms — Colours rich, no want of paint, Forms of wearied ones all faint, Like worn passengers in storms. ALL PAINT; NO BRUSH. Ill Philosophic men were there, With strange powers to scan and pry Into things of earth and sky; But who fail'd thro' want of prayer. Colours rare and gifts of skill, God had given to use for him ; But their work was blurr'd and dim, For they had no Spirit's quill. Statesmen, with ambition's flush, On those walls transfer'd their acts ; Whose great lives were barren facts ; For they painted without brush. Scribes and bards, of lustrous fame — Men whose works were household gods, Ruling with their golden rods, Throned in state, and robed in flame ; — 112 ALL PAINT; NO BRUSH. Orators, with wondrous gush And wealth of overflowing speech ;- These were represented each ; But without the living brush. Warriors, too, who sought to crush Human forms of kindred blood, Heedless of man's brotherhood, — Painted there without a brush. Kings, who loved the battle's rush, Playing dice with souls of men, Ending life with stroke of pen, — Left red spots without a brush. Men who hated life's calm hush, In the hot pursuit of gain, — They were there among the slain ; Life's work lost for want of brush. ALL PAINT J NO BRUSH. 1 1 3 Youth were there, without a blush, In their work of shame and sin : Hope's pure forms once glow'd within, Which they spoilt for want of brush. And within those vision halls Other works of men I saw, Having not sad failure's flaw Written on life's picture walls. In these corridors of souls Long I stroll'd with joyous gaze, Where I saw bright glories blaze From the radiant aureoles. Artists here, with steadfast aim, Left their living pictures fair — Falling from the hands of prayer ; Earning an illustrious fame. 114 all paint; no brush. Then I heard a strange remark, As bright angels fix'd their eyes On the pictures of the wise, And upon them left their mark, — Saying, as they went and came, " We will come again one day, When we hear the Master say — ' Carry the awards of Fame? — " Then the 'pictures of these halls We will take and with them soar Thro' the bright and pearly door, For God's Exhibition Walls" EXCELSIOR ! WRITTEN ON THE DEATH OF A YOUNG LADY WHOSE LAST WORD WAS "HIGHER!" Life had been a thing of gladness, She was young to die ! And at first a sense of sadness Heaved a mournful sigh — As she saw a hand unravel Brightest hopes of earthly travel — Mounting Higher. u6 excelsior! ii. But the sadness soon departed, With all tearful sighs ; From the tomb she no more started. Glory fill'd her eyes : For her ears had caught the singing Of the bells of heaven ringing " Higher ! Higher !" m. Voices of the loved were calling ; Friendship's grasp was nigh ; Mortal shades around Avere falling Closing beaming eye : While a whisper, scarcely heard, Sounded out this radiant word — "Higher! Higher!" excelsior! 117 IV. She beheld the angels waiting At the golden door ; And thus felt her spirit mating With the earth no more : Blessed hands a crown were bringing, Sweetest voices now were singing — " Higher! Higher!" v. Waiting for the grand ascension — For the wings of flame — She was listening for the mention Of her call by name : And her whisper, scarcely heard, Was the angels' echo'd word — "Higher! Higher!" n8 excelsior! VI. Mortal hearing heard no singing ; Eyes saw nothing near Save the lifeless form still clinging To a hand most dear : On seraphic wings of fire She had join'd the heavenly choir — Mounting Higher ! JOSEPH. GENESIS XLIX., 22, 23. Joseph, like a fruitful vine, Grew strong " beside a well;" His leaves were green, his branches spread,' The fruit did richly swell. The cruel " archers " came that way, With wantonness of heart ; They shot their arrows at the tree, — Each was a poison'd dart. 120 JOSEPH. The savage weapons fail'd to hurt The vine so strong and tall ; The branches only spread the more Along its ancient wall. The deadly venom that was aim'd By quivering jealousy, Did but add richness to the soil, And vigour to the tree. And as it grew for many years Against its ancient prop, There came again a band of men, Who saw the clusters drop. Impell'd by famine's cruel law From land and home to haste, They came that way to save dear life, And Egypt's food to taste. JOSEPH. 121 * They sat beside a pleasant stream, Where at their feet did fall, From branches laden heavily, The fruit from off the wall. They drank the waters, clear and cool ; They ate the pleasant food ; When suddenly they all recall'd The place where now they stood. With one accord their hearts gave way, Repentance to begin ; But not alone their folly mourn'd — They also wept for sin. 'Tis even thus with souls forgiven ; They mourn the guilty strife That shut their hearts against the One Who gave for them His life. 122 JOSEPH. Should not our hearts unfold to love, As flowers unfold to light, And closed affections open wide To Him who gives us sight ? And as the wall was high and strong, O'er which the love came down, So let our hearts be citadels Where sin is overthrown. O'er every " wall " of human pride, And little party strife, Let those who dwell outside the fence Partake the common life. The food that drops from heavenly hands Is food enough for all ; It came to us ungrudginly — Ungrudging let it fall. JOSEPH. 123 To all alike, of every creed, The precious fruit that falls Should drop around unsparingly, O'er all partition walls. THE SLAVE. BEFORE AND AFTER EMANCIPATION. I. The light is free ! The light is free ! It shines on all, In hut and hall, On great and small : The light is bright with liberty ! But I am bound To tyrants' ground ; And fenced about Sy the blood-hound scout. The light is free, and sweet to see ! Unlike my life Of bitter strife. THE SLAVE. 125 II. The air is free ! The air is free ! It steals perfume From the garden's bloom, For the sick man's room : The air is sweet with liberty ! Its cooling fan, On the wounded man, Doth soothe his brain On the battle plain. The air is free, and comes to me, But not to bring Life on its wing, in. The streams are free ! the streams are free ! They come and go, In constant flow, To make life grow : The streams are full of liberty ! 126 THE SLAVE. From the mountain crown, To valleys brown, Their life they bring To fruits of spring. The streams are free, and to the sea Pursue their course, Uncheck'd by force. IV. And out at sea, all bright and free, They bear away, By night and day, On shining spray The freighted vessels fair to see ! Whose sails of white Sport with the light Of soft sunbeams, And moonlight gleams. THE SLAVE. 1 27 But not for me doth the bright blue sea Brings vessels free Of liberty. v. Yes, I am free ! I too am free ! The cursed gain Of galling chain Is henceforth slain : Sweet liberty has come to me ! A hand of might Hath put to flight, And turn'd to song A cruel wrong. The light, and air, and streams, are free ! And, with the sea, /, too, am free / I2 ^ THE SLAVE. VI. And now, my soul, thy name enroll To be a slave To Him who gave His life to save : This is the work of souls made whole. If slaves observe The one they serve, Let us be slaves To Him who saves. Thus, O my soul, let Christ control Thy heart and mind, Thy powers combined ! GOD'S STAR. •©•- Sailing on the troubled waters Of life's dark tempestuous main, Many are the sad disasters, And the sea-waifs of the slain. Many noble boats have founder'd — Many stately forms gone down, In the night of darkness stranded, On whose path no light was thrown. 9 130 GODS STAR. Deep below the sea is treasure, Treasure rare from many climes, Sought with care, and found with pleasure, Ending in the sea-waves' chimes. Thus untimely is the ending Of parental hopes and prayers ; Youth's bright expectations tending To an end of bitter cares. Like a boat without its rudder — Like a rider without reins — Such are souls without the Saviour, Whom the love of sin enchains. Like the bright and polar star, Shining thro' the stormy night; Such, all beaming from afar, Is the Saviour's living light. god's star. 131 And that star so constant shining Over seas with tempest tost, Safely steers my vessel, gliding Past the beacons of the lost. Brother ! heed that star so tender ! By its light your vessel steer ; To its guide your heart surrender, And avoid the dangers near. THE CITY GATES. i. How many have gone in, Purged clean from every sin ! Henceforth to shine as bright And beautiful as light ; And like the light to be From all contagion free; Without a single stain To vex the soul with pain. THE CITY GATES. 1 33 II. The poor have cross'd the floor, And enter'd thro' the door That never yet was known On poverty to frown; Nor ever will be seen To harbour aught so mean As pride of wealth and place, In souls of common race. in. And with the poor do meet — And there each other greet — The noble and the great, With those of princely state ; For there redeeming blood Decides the brotherhood, Who never know the shame Of vaunting in a name. 134 THE CITY GATES. IV. And there the weak and frail, Impell'd by many a gale To cross life's stormy sea, Are from all tempests free : No more with billows strong To wrestle with the wrong ; Nor in their gloom of soul To sigh for strong control. v. The weary, too, are there, Whose life was full of care ; Whose hours were often fraught With so much anxious thought. From care they all are free, Their hearts as full of glee And light as ocean's spray That with the sunbeams play. THE CITY GATES. 135 VI. And there also are youth, Who wore the belt of truth To gird them for the strife And victory of life. Before the youthful sun] Its morning's course had run, Their early race did close For heaven's sweet repose. VII. And with them doth belong A sweetly radiant throng Of little ones all fair, Like flowers most choice and rare, — Whom, 'ere the frost set in Of dark and blighting sin, The angel-reapers bore To heaven's pearly floor. *36 THE CITY GATES. VIII. And last, not least, are they Whose locks with age were grey ; Who bent their tired feet Thro' wind, and snow, and sleet ; And onward urged their way To gates of cloudless day, Where now in light they shine — In life without decline. IX. Together there they dwell, Where songs of rapture swell ; Together there they walk, And with unwearied talk They praise the blessed King, That He to heaven did bring, From every land and clime, A multitude sublime. MY MOTHER'S PICTURE. In things both near and far, To what shall I compare A mother's memory fair ? 'Tis like the evening star, — So near and yet so far ! In things both high and low, To what shall I compare The graces she did wear ? So like the pure white snow, And sunset's golden glow !, x 3^ my mother's picture. In things both new and old, To what shall I compare Her soft and tender care ? So like a shepherd's fold, To screen the lambs from cold In life that fragrance grows ■ To what shall I compare Her sympathy so rare ? So like a scented rose Beside a stream that flows ! In things all great— not small— To what shall I compare, And how the love declare, — The love so full of power, — Which with a trumpet call Did save me from a fall, In dark temptation's hour ? MY FATHER'S PICTURE. Thy form is bent, but fair to see As some old oaken evergreen, Beneath whose shelter oft I've been : The tree tho' bent is dear to me. Thy head is like the frosty spray That sits upon the ocean deep ; And like the waters, when they sleep, Thy heart is as a peaceful Bay. I40 MY FATHERS PICTURE. Thine eyes are like the isles of light That glimmer in night's starry arch ; And like those stars thy thoughts keep march With God's pure laws that bring no blight. Thy faith is like a much-tried boat, O'erwhelm'd at times by billows strong, And made to reel and stagger long, Yet always has been kept afloat. Like mountains reaching to the skies. And standing firm thro' waste of years, And oft bedew'd by ocean's tears, Thy love still feels thy children's sighs. And when instead of sighs they sing, Yet is thy heart like mountain crest, The sun dispersing from thy breast The clouds that check the soul's bright wing. MY FATHER'S PICTURE. 141 Thy hope is like a child at school, Repining not, but glad to go To cross the Home's bright portico, Where time's restraints shall cease to rule. The loved companion of thy hours Has left thee long to walk alone, And like the lonely dove to moan ; But has not left thee without flowers. And when with her thy dust shall rest, Those flowers upon thy grave shall grow ; And thither will thy children go To read the memories of the blest. THE BEST TIME. John vii., 6, 8. Stormy billows foam around me, Tempest clouds are in the sky ; Troubles gather thick about me, And I ask the reason why. Soon, amidst my faith's commotion, Accents, like an evening chime, Soothe my heart with balmy lotion, Saying, " Fear not ! bide my time!" THE BEST TIME. 1 43 So my faith reposes restful, Like the little child asleep, — No more frighten'd, no more fretful, Thro' some dream that made it weep. Then my heart, fill'd with devotion, Sings aloud its well-known rhyme, Thanking Him who gives promotion To the faith that waits His time. THE GARDEN GRAVE. ON THE DEATH OF A YOUNG CHILD. I had a garden beautiful to see, Enclosed by fences strong, and full of flowers; With calm retired walks of scented bowers ; So rich in sunshine, and from clouds so free ! Within my garden fence I used to sing, With song of bird that at my window hung ; Its notes all sweet, its harp of voice well strung, Lone hours beguiled, and did much pleasure bring. THE GARDEN GRAVE. 1 45 A day of sadness and of grief was born ; The cruel bird of prey came on the wing : From that day forth my bird could no more sing ; And left me in my garden most forlorn. The garden still is there, and fair to see, But one sad plot appears, and will remain In cloud and sunshine ever still the same : My garden holds the grave of bird of glee. The summers come and go, as once they did ; And fruits and flowers most choice and sweet still live, With pleasant streams that life and music give : Yet, in my garden lies a coffin-lid. But lest this garden I should much abuse, In making sorrow very dark and bold, Above the coffin-lid, and clay so cold, The roses grow, all bright with lively hues. 10 146 THE GARDEN GRAVE. The garden of my heart contains a tomb, But all around the tomb Hope's roses glow ; And in my memory's ear sweet strains oft flow ; My birdie sings and shines in heaven's bloom, Robbing my garden grave of half its gloom. "THEY HAVE NO WINE." JOHN ii., 3, 4. Woman blest beyond all others ! Thou wast human, like us all ; Like thy sisters and thy brothers, Faith in thee was sometimes small. He who was thy human son Was the mighty Son of God, Who, before time's course begun, Ruled archangels by His word. 10 — a 148 THEY HAVE NO WINE All forgetful of His power, Of the eyes that always shine, We would hasten on the hour When the Saviour gives His wine. " We've no wine," our doubt is saying Jesus answers, " Yes, I know; And the reason of delaying Is to make it brightly glow." Surely He who loves us strongly, Better than our thoughts can tell, Will for us do nothing wrongly, Cannot but for us do well. If the wine of life is failing Nothing can His love confine ; And His power is all-availing To induce the flow of wine. THEY HAVE NO WINE. 149 Yet our questions doubt His power, And our thoughts His love confine ; Still He urges — " Wait my hour, When the wine will flow and shine." So we wait a little longer ; Then our hearts become more calm ; And our faith becomes the stronger Bringing to our souls a charm ; — For His wine our lips have tasted ; And it has lit up the brow : Then we sing — " Tho' wine we've wasted Thou hast kept the best till now !" VOICES OF THE STARS. Ye ancient stars, whose light sublime Hath shone thro' centuries of time, On patriarchs and prophets old, In burning zones and regions cold ! — Your ancient light, O stars, I see, And think how rich in thought are ye— How changeless thro' long weary years The light of truth and love appears ! VOICES OF THE STARS. 151 II. O, constant stars ! ye keep your place Like names of some illustrious race, Whose shining crest from age to age Remains on bright heraldic page ; Rebuking by your steadfast beams The short-lived light that " only seems," — The soul erratic, wandering far With light extinct — a shooting star. in. Your living rays, O lustrous light, Relieve the gloomy shades of night ! Reproving thus the deeper gloom That loves the darkness of the tomb — Of those who choose to be unblest With living beams of sacred rest ; Who shut their eyes, and close them tight, Preferring darkness to the light. J 5 2 VOICES OF THE STARS. IV. O silent stars ! your noiseless light Falls softly on the infant's sight, And finds a most congenial sphere In children's eyes and hearts so clear, So free from guile and unbelief ! So full of rest, and free from grief ! Unlike the restlessness and sin Of man, and earth's incessant din. v. Beautiful stars ! which thro' the skies Look out like bright and tender eyes ; Which, tho' diverse, yet all agree To shine and move in harmony. Your soft and gentle life, O stars, Doth music make that knows no jars ; Like all sweet things that harmonize- Like loving hearts and truthful eyes. VOICES OF THE STARS. 1 53 VI. Your joyous light, O stars so bright, Could not be seen but for the night : Like those rare flowers of choicest hue, That in the sun ne'er come to view — So like those pleasures born of fears, And like those graces born of tears, The night of sorrow making fair The firmament of virtues rare ! VII. Sceptic ! lilt up your doubtful eyes, And read God's writing in the skies : His hand has fashion'd, one by one, Those shining orbs, and His alone ; Appointed for them all the bounds Wherein they move in constant rounds ; Sustaining, by His strong decree, Their light, and life, and harmony. 154 VOICES OF THE STARS. VIII. Look up, my soul ! and here resolve In life and beauty to revolve ; Reflecting beams of holy light To cast upon the world's dark night ; Beguiling by celestial rays Some weary feet on earth's highways ; Seeking from paths of death to save By bringing life to sin's dark grave : — IX. So when shall strike the hour of death, And mortal mists extinguish breath, — When life's short work on earth shall cease For heaven's rest and sweet release, — Upon my tomb soft light shall fall, Displacing sorrow's funeral pall ; And in the records of the blest My name shall wear a starry crest. AN ASPIRATION. O Thou who art " the Way, the Truth, the Life," Teach me Thy way to walk, Thy truth to love, Thy life to live ! A solid rock will then Support my feet amid sin's swelling surge. And, thro' the ever-changing moods of time, A noontide life, all soft, will reign within — A heavenly calm. And when the grave's damp dews Shall fall around, and death's chill icy hand Shall touch the harp strings of mortality, Up to a purer, nobler life I'll rise : 156 AN ASPIRATION. Where sunshine from the throne of God shall show A threefold path of glory, teaching how To walk the golden way among the hills Of everlasting peace ; and where to track The steps sublime of everlasting truth ; And whence to trace the pure and sacred font Of everlasting life. SWEET LIBERTY. I've seen a fish entangled by a fisher's meshes tight : I've seen a bird enfolded by a snare, preventing flight : I've seen a slave, all manacled with chains, deprived of might. I've seen a soul entangled by an angler's crafty wiles, — Like a bright bird encaged, robb'd of all music and all smiles, — No longer able, with strong limbs, to travel pleasant miles. 158 SWEET LIBERTY. I've seen a fish ensnared a little while, and then let free : I've seen a bird entrapp'd for one short hour, then fill'd with glee : I've seen a slave, with fetter'd limbs, set at sweet liberty. And I have seen the Saviour look on souls with tender eye ; And known His gracious heart all stirr'd with loving sympathy, — As backsliding ones, "afar off" walking, were brought very " nigh." And then I saw the peaceful soul swim in its native ocean ; And, like the lark, spread joyous wings and sing with graceful motion, — No longer faint and weary thro' sin's most sad commotion. GIVING AND SELLING. John xii., 4, 5. Judas sold himself to sin, And then his name enroll'd To wait upon the Son of God, In service dark and bold. The woman sold herself to sin, Before she knew her Lord ; But did not give her heart away Till she had felt His word. l6o GIVING AND SELLING. The word that Judas often heard Fell like the sun on clay ; The woman's heart, at heaven's call, Like thawing frost gave way. The frozen streams commenced to flow, To run love's willing race ; Obstructive barriers soon began To yield to flowing grace. Her tears fell on the Saviour's feet, Each drop fiash'd like a gem, More costly than the pearls that deck A royal diadem. We cannot give what we have sold, Nor sell what we have given • Unless we act a Judas part, And forfeit gifts of heaven. GIVING AND SELLING. l6l We dare not give a heart untrue To One who reads the heart ; We cannot sell a heart of love To act a traitor's part. All that we have we'll freely give, And wish that it were more : Nor will we barter heavenly wealth For any earthly store. XI ON SEEING A BUTTERFLY AND A BEE DROWNED AT SEA. i. The butterfly and bee Resolved to view the sea : They left their floral bowers To sport with sea-side hours, While o'er the sands they flew The wonders there to view. They had not long been out In flying all about, BUTTERFLY AND BEE. 163 When both of them espied The fast outgoing tide. A bath, they thought, in brine, Would cause their wings to shine. They did but touch the brim To find they could not swim — A lesson sad to learn When they could not return ! With swell of ebbing tide They drifted, side by side, Far out upon the waves That made their briny graves. Man's soul was made for flight ; To soar to worlds of light ; To rise on Faith's broad wings, And Hope's glad songs to sing ; 1 1 — a 164 BUTTERFLY AND BEE. To roam among the bowers Where Truth grows sweetest flowers ; To sip the living wine DistiU'd from Love's pure vine. But when the wings descend To try and find " land's end," And leave Faith's regions clear For reason's atmosphere, And part with Truth's bright floor For speculation's shore, And drink the ocean's brine Instead of heavenly wine ; — Too soon that soul may know The tides that have no flow ; That quench the brightest light, And drown the thoughts outright ; That bear the mind away Where shines no light of day ; BUTTERFLY AND BEE. 1 6 Where graves are seen afar By light of wandering star With no sweet flowers to bloom Upon a darken'd tomb ; And with this epitaph, That scarce restrains a laugh : — •' He tried the ocean's breadth, And went beyond his depth ; Was drown'd while out at sea, Like butterfly and bee ! ' LIFE'S FADED FLOWERS. Oh, why so quickly fades the beauty rare, And odours rich so soon turn foul and rank ? The wine of gladness sparkles in the air, And all its sweetness drain'd before 'tis drank, 'Tis wise in us when looking at our joys To bear in mind that they must one day fade : Possessions here are but as children's toys, Not for our rest, but for our training made. life's faded flowers. 167 Perfection never can on earth be known, Where all is lamentably incomplete : Like flowers that shed their leaves, 'ere fully blown, Corruption waits attendance on the sweet : — Prophetic of a truer, higher state, The pledge of life and sweetness yet to come ! The all-completeness for the which we wait Shall greet us when we reach our heavenly home. Then shall our eyes be satisfied with sight Our hearts contentment know, with perfect peace ; And love and beauty in their full-orb'd light Proclaim the captive soul's complete release.