M'. *:3, '■II- THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES .,^0k ,;.^.-.-. 'mi'W^' Kh (K/\k\ \ <^'^'vrv^<\. - '<^'^^^4~\j 'I M.'K^ M^ vc < aivch I- f "iU. tC IX' i \ 'nZ (AA^ii^n^ l/nM. J9fv f VOICES OF DOUBT: AUSTRALIAN SCENES, AX 1 1 OTHEPv POEMS BY ALEXANDER HU>SSELL, B.D. Vicar of St. Pdnl's Chui-ch, and Demi of Adelaide. ADELAIDE: F. S. WIGG & SON MELBOURNE : S. MULLEN 1884 ADELAIDE ADVEETISEE JOB PlilNTINR OFFICE, OFF WAYMODTH STREET. PR R43v PEEPACE W0RD8\V0KTH, speaking of his own time, said— . . . The world is too mucli with us : Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers. . . . and his words ninst often be recalled in a community where life is so lai-gely occupied with things lying merely on the surface of existence. There are few who do not find themselves driven to seek times of retreat, wherein the solemnities lying below the fair face of society are those which absorb the thought. It was in obedience to this impulse that most of the things in this volume had their origin. " Sometimes," says Mr. F. W. H. Myers (Modern Essays), "our relations to the Unseen will take possession of the soul; thought is lost in love, and emotion seems to find its natural outlet in spiritual aspiration and prayer." In such moods it is no less natural that meditative thought should seek articulate utterance in some form of verse, in which subdued feeling in the very act of expression is partly veil(;d. Beautiful scenes and sacred chaiucters in the life of long ago blend mysteriously with the thoughts of the present. iv. Preface. In some of the scenes of Scripture nmcli more is sug- gested than is actually said, and yet the more imaginative and sympathetic treatment of the narrative is hardly com- patible with the conditions of prose intei-pretation. Some familiar stories, such as those of the Doubting Disciplc!, the Deaf Mute, the Widow's Son of Nain, and the Woman of Samaria, are here read, as it were, between the lines. Besides this, a considerable portion of the volume has a bearing, more or less direct, on the prevailing doubt of the age by which so many hearts have been saddened and depressed. But here again Mr. Myers has spoken some true woi-ds :— " We know that the true controversy is no longer between those within and those without the walls of any given chui'ch, Ijut on a wider scale and involving profounder issues. It is a controversy between Spii'itualism and Materialism, between those who base their life on God and immoi'tality, and those who deny or are indifferent to both." At the same time, a distinction is to be observed between intellectual error and that more deplorable unbelief which is of the moral nature. It has been a comfort to the present writei- to think that the number of persons who act practically under the influence of a lielief which tliey liave not been able to formulate is greater than ^vould be suspected by those whose only test of faith is adherence to a dogmatic standard; since between all who are following the guidance of an Inward Light there must be true unity of feeling. Among the Preface. V. active agents in the promotion of unbelief mnst also be reckoned the grotesque misrepresentations of Chi'istianity in many popular discourses which leave in doubt either the equity or the omnipotence of Divine Love. Against all this it is needful that some protest should be made. Two explanatory things respecting the present publica- tion may be added. The study of the crime of Judas was completed in its present form before the author met with Mr. Hart's imaginative attempt to reproduce the personal history of the Betrayer, and, after reading it, he did not find any occasion to alter what he had written. As an afterthought, some pieces bearing on Australian scenery and life were interposed before the principal poem — if poem it can be called. '#*V%- CONTENTS. PAGE Preface - ....-.- iii. In Memoriain F. D. M. - - - - - - 1 Australian Sonnets — I. On the Blue Mountains, N.S.W. — Govett's Leap 2 II. On the Shore ....-- 3 III. On the Port Elliot Eocks, S.A. ... 3 Christmas Eve in Australia . - . . - 5 Christmas Day in the Adelaide Hospital ... 8 An Easter Day in Australia . - - - - 11 The Epic of Hades - - ... 17 Voices of Doubt ..-.--- 18 A Nightfall 48 Ephphatha ...-.--- 51 The Christian Passover ..... 59 The Widow's Son of Nain - - . - - - 63 The Star in the East 69 Judas Iscakiot ....--- 73 Didymus -...---- 107 Gethsemane .-.----- 115 "This day thou shalt bo with me in Paradise" - - 121 The Rich Fool 125 The Prophet Voices ..... 128 "I shall die alone" 132 The Comfortable Words 1^0 Consider the Lilies ...---• 144 The Journey to Samaria ..... 146 At the Well of Samaria ....-- 151 Contents. vii. PAGE Sonnets on the Resurrection ----- 164 Christ and the Children --...- 168 Easter in the Sick Room . - . - . 172 Sonnets — Times of Transfiguration . . - . - 175 Art and Nature ------ 176 Earthly Strains ------- 176 Shall there be no more Sea r - - - - 177 Body and Mind ------- 178 On the Mountain ---.-. 179 They shall see God -...-- 179 They understood not that saying - - - 180 Aimings at Communion ----- 181 The Last Hymn 182 St. Mary Magdalene in the Garden - - . - 183 " This Man continueth ever" ----- 187 The Sons of Thunder — I. St. James the Great . . - - 190 II. St John ------- 198 Commemoration in the Eucharist - . - . 207 The Cross of Eiches ------ 211 Memorial Flowers --..-- 213 The Agony -------- 222 Sonnets— The Mystery of Pain ----- 224 Fellowship in His Sufferings ----- 225 The Law of Liberty ----- 225 " He healed them all " ----- 226 What lack I yet? - - - - - - 227 He led him aside from the multitude - - - 22S Emmaus — I. The Walk to Emmuas .... 229 II. The Return to Jerusalem ... - 236 viii. Contents. PAGE Easter Day ..----- 239 Italy 242 George Eliot ..----- 243 Peom Daekness into Light ----- 244 "In all things made like unto us" - - - - 258 Death of Gartield 262 Finis 2G7 Australian Scenes — The Exile 269 Australian Sonnets — An Australian Drought ----- 278 The Foundation of a Church ----- 279 A Vacant See 279 " The Old Order changeth " ----- 280 A Farewell ------- 281 Appendices ---.---- 283 ERRATA. On page 29, line 10, for " dialetic " read " dialectic." On page 83, line 8, for " flung " read " thrown." On page 108, line 21, for " grevious " read " grievous." On page 153, after " Her empty pitcher " read " as before " " She oft had come. But to restore " On page 197, line 20, for " bleeding heart " read " bleeding breast." On page 248, line 10, for " his own " read " its own," VOICES OF DOUBT AND OTHER POEMS F. D. M. ^s SEE liim now, no better understood Than was liis Master ; in his kindling eye The liglit was like a message from on high. He was so noble, that ingratitude But woke in him some tender j^itying mood. The crowd's vain babble passed him idly by, A pi'ophet he, " a voice," like John, " a cry " That to the sad woi-ld in its orphanhood Told of a Father. In his brilliant youth He sought, and not in vain, to feel his way Through all the maze of thought. In seer and sage He saw but divers seekers, gone astray, Yet catching glimpses of the central truth, The Word Etei-nal witness, age by age. Voices of Doubt and other Poems. Su^ti'^liki) goi|i]et^. I. ON THE BLUE MOUNTAINS N.S.W. GOVETT'S LEAP. r^'s^HAT eartliqiiake sliock, wliat lightnings in their play- Brake tii^ the valley in this sudden rift ? The tools that Nature wields alone could lift The rugged masses that we see to-day. Perchance a deluge, sweeping on its way, Through scaur and ci-ag its awful channel cleft, Confusedly bearing on its breast a drift Of fragments here imbedded in the clay That welded them together. Now once more Earth's wounds are healed : the shaggy height Wears its green mantle as it did before The tempest smote it, and the lichens grey Fleck lierc and there the cliffs, else black as night ; Sq Nature smiles where raged the wildest fray. Australian Sonnets. II. ON THE SHORE. 'HE wind is liigli, and, whitening o'er the main, The foaming billows hasten to the shore Like beasts of prey half- glutted, that for more Of death and ruin ravin still. The strain Sung by the winds is like a moan of pain, And Anger mtitters in the sullen roar With which the waters come : the strand is hoar With foam. But still unto the depths in vain The voice of terror in the rising gale Makes its shrill cry — Storms reach not Ocean's heart : There, there at last, tumultuous heavings cease. So, though in hours of dread the cheek grows pale When thunders roll and lightning flashes dart. In life's great depths abides the soul of Peace. III. ON THE PORT ELLIOT ROCKS, S.A. ^ll ^IfiH up in safety on the granite cliff, * I hear the sound that soundeth evermore With vague uncertain meaning, on the shore. Across the bay a tiny fishing-skiff A 2 Voices of Do7iht and other Poems. Shows visionary on the scene, as if An airy white-winged spirit flitted o'er Some mystic mere. The screaming sea-gnlls soar, Then dive for prey. Far oif on land, the stiff Gannt trunks of trees like gloomy watchmen stand) But the wild waters, raging at our feet, Send far in air the blinding clouds of spray. And ceaselessly on rock or yielding sand Like fi^antic things with mad impatience beat : So, age by age, the cliff is worn away. Other Australian Sonnets will he found later in this volume. Christmas Eve in Australia. dlii^i^trqa^ ^ye iii Su^ti^klik- 1. .i^ KNOW not Cliristmas in this guise : A radiance as of summer time Turns night to clay, and in this clime The stars are gemlike in the skies. 2. The Church roof shines like silver sheen : A mantle that is not of sno\v On all things lies : the pale moon's glow- Casts strange enchantment on the scene. 3. And yondei', Night upon her breast The mystic cross her emblem wears, And through the laggard hours prepares To hail the morn that Christ liath blest. 6 Voices of Doubt and other Poems. 4. Perliaps in such a night as this The shepherds in old Palestine Were watching, when the news divine Came sweet with angel melodies. 5. If what they saw they hardly wist, Although the atmosphere was rare, Tet might it happen even there That o'er the spii-it gathered mist. 6. Long watching, to their drowsy eyes The angel-forms uncertain seemed : At first they were as men that dreamed Who struggled with a great surprise. 7. But as the flood of moonlight pours And leaves no nook unvisited. The joy that came to them has spread And found its way to other shores. Christmas Eve in Australia. 8. In northern lands, the winter's snow Is like a faint reflection cast Of Light that through the world hath passed, As in the South, the moonlight's glow. 8 Voices of Doubt and other Poeins. 6i[ti^tn\^^ n\ tlie Stlelkide So^piai. 1. 'HEY make my bedside gay with flowei's : They come to me with smiles, and fain I think, would cheat me of my pain — But oh, the weary, weary houivs ! o ^« I heard the waggons in the street All through the restless, livelong night : Before the earliest streak of light I heard the busy footfall beat. 3. They brushed away tlie tk'ws of sleep : So eager for the coming day Did any think of us that lay Through wakeful huurs that slowly creep ? Christ'iiuis in the Adelaide Hospital. 9^ 4. And yet the night was not so lone : 'Tis something when the dull time crawls To know that outside these bare walls No sickly people make their moan. 5. There came a breath upon my cheek, As if some helpful love were near, And now the voice itself I heai* — I hear the voice of kindness speak. 6, The richer food I could not eat With which they celebrate theii" feast, But tender hands have brought, at least,. Some coolness to this fever'd heat. 7. Tliey soothe my sense, they bathe my brow,. And from the gardens far away The Avafted odours seem to say — " For yoii our sweetest flow'rets grow." 10 Voices of Donht and other Poems. 8. Tliey minister, I think, to me As long ago they would have clone To Christ Himself : in every'one Who suffers — Him they think they see. 9. And so the thoughts of Christmas fill The saddest places, and the wine Of human love becomes divine — Thank God, the Christ is with us still ! An Australian Easter Day. 11 Sri Sn^tfaliai^ ]^a,^tei' ©ay. pOW peaceful is the scene ! A holy hush Has fallen on the landscape. On the hills There mantles calm, and that clear depth of sky Is like the smile of God, in harmony With all of peace and blessing that the day Breathes on us here. The leaves are hardly stirr'd Deep silence reigns like that within the soul Whose clear- eyed faith rests calmly on the Christ. This hush of softened feeling in the air Is Nature's dumb response, as if the scene That lives for ever in the view of Faith Had laid its spell upon the breathing world. Here for a moment happy eyes can see This fair Creation reaching forth to us, And thrilling with the holy Easter joy ; 12 Voices of Doubt and other Poems. For Nature is so quick and sensitive To all that makes oui' life a solemn tiling, That in her changefiil moods she answers back, When clouds have darkened on the clear expanse Of hiaman thought, or now again its sky Is clear. Creation has its times of storm. But soon they pass. The wild wind dies away As if some voice were saying — " Peace, he still .'" And then the calm that falls is more than spent Exhausted rage of warring elements. The Will that, on the Sea of Galilee, Rebuked and stilled the voices of the storm. Set laws to all things that they cannot pass, And to the spirit's tumult whispers peace. Although we hear no voice, and can discern Uprising on the scene, no awful Form. The world grows dearer to us when we see That things familiar thus express to us Some thought of love : the natural repose Has links of close connection with the life Of living men. There is a soul of truth In all things, and a Spirit speaks to us An Australian Easter Day. 13 With meaning which the soul can understand. The life of man has many a Holy Week In which the cruel Cross is almost more Than mortal strength can bear : then all seems o'er. The hope, the joy of life, lies crushed and dead, Until there comes a resurrection morn, When life begins to stir. The Easter joy Has echoes in a thousand human lives. The former pangs were like discordant notes To make the strain more sweet which sounds at last When new capacities of feeling rise From unimagined depths, and all the wealth Of love within our nature is revealed. The world of sense is full of parables By which we read the meaning of our life. The sleeper, smiling in his happy dreams, Is one but lately overspent with toil, And though he sleeps so well, the lines of care Are seen too plainly with the rise and fall Of breath. There is a pathos in his sleep To one who looks upon the languid limbs 14 Voices of Doubt and other Poems. And half obliterated signs of pain. The story of a life is almost writ Upon the weary overdriven man Who, when at last the power to struggle failed, Had nothing left but thus to cast himself Into the lap of Slumber, laying there The meek confession of his helplessness. With that repose that now has come to him The scene around him harmonises well ; For Night bends over him, and holds her breath Lest but the faintest murmur in the roora Should break the charm that holds his spirit bound. So Tribulation leads the way to peace. And as in sorrow there are mystic depths We cannot fathom, and the pain itself Pursued mysterious windings in the soul, And passed all understanding, God's own love Is like to it. It cometh when the soul Has ceased from all self-pity, and forborne The urgent cry for help, content to wait Till patience finishes her perfect work, An Australian Easter Day. 15 Not knowing love was speeding on the path. But when the blessed visitant has come, It seems as if the faculty of joy Had gather' d strength from things that strove with it. When man has chasten'd all his earthly will, The heart grows bountiful ; the springs Of secret love break forth again and flow. The Avorld itself is changed, and Nature now Waves her bright answer to his alter'd mood, Smiling with eyes of utter peacefulness, And all the world seems thrilling with the bliss That pulsates in the renovated soul. The thing that touches us is something more Than speaks to sense : a chord of feeling thrills Between the living spirit and the soul Of Nature, and the very light of day Is like a benediction. The still air Ai-i'ests its breathing, motionless with awe. In presence of the peace that is of God. No discord mars the harmony of life : The past, the present, and the future blend Their notes in music that is passing sweet. C16 Voices of Douht and other Foenis. All things are seen to liave conspired in one To make the ways of God more clear ; and now The present is suffused with thoughts of faith, And Hope has risen on her pni-e white w^ing To bear ns onward in her airy flight. Our sight is bounded : but a little way Our thought can penetrate those azure depths. But soon the veil will fall, and then the eyes Whose poor horizon here so bounds the view Will gain new insight Avhcn they see the whole. 1SS2. The Epic of Hades. 17 ¥l\e 5{pid of Skde^. N that old world, though dim through mythic haze, There move strange forms that, as they go and come, Reveal the heart of ancient Heathendom, And show us how there run through all the days Prophetic thoughts. We see them kneeling raise Their eyes to stony gods whose lips are dumb : Some gi'ovel sordid in the dust, and some By deeds immortal move the world to px-aise. Pure Innocence, oppi-est and held in thrall, And heroes, glorious in celestial might, Ambition, Hate, and stronger Love, are there. The nobler spirits to the noble call, And watchman voices, in the dead of night. For dawn of morn the wistful world prepare. 18 Voices of DottLt and other Poems. Voided of ©oubt. " "^W^-^^ hvllight of the u'orlcl teas prone ^^ " To faiths or fancies of the brain, " And men of dotibting viind were fain " To hide the thovglits they dared not own : " The world ivas eager for belief, " And they, suspected by the good, " Misconstrued, never understood, " Consumed their heart in secret grief. Said one pale student, eager- eyed, Who took this cni'sory review, " Bid it is better to be true " Than merely on the xvinning side. The times are changed, and doubters now Go forth amid the crowd to preach With little reticence of speech, Voices of Do^ibt. 19 Yet with a shadow on their brow, As if a bright triumphal air Were cross'd by some pathetic strain, And there are waiHngs as of pain Beneath their gospel of despair. They see dissolving in a mist Which Fancy touches with its gold. The substance of the tale oft-told Of this or that evangelist : And yet the voice grows tremulous, And soften'd feeling intervenes, When in the tender Gospel scenes The soul of nature speaks to us. As when a picture of the lost Brings back the time that once was dear, The past is sounding in their ear, And haunts them almost like a ghost. And yet, to echo with the crowd The phrases of a creed woi-n out. And stifle all their earnest doubt, Were but the parody of faith : They dare not cheat their common sense B 2 20 Voices of Douht and other Poems. With that evasive reverence Which still denies below its breath. They shudder at the rash belief That sides with the majority, And hires with a retaining fee Glib advocates who hold a brief, Perhaps believing in their cause, But pledged beforehand, confident. And less truth- seekers than intent On Avinning orthodox applause. So, in the too fastidious vein Engender'd by a life recluse In which misgiving grows with use, I hear a pensive voice complain : — " So often it has come to pass ! " Each age the futile hope renews : " In vain humanity pursues " Some will-o'-wisp across the grass, " To go more hopelessly astray. *' The legends of the di-eaming past Voices of Doubt. 21 "Were beautiful, but faded fast. " As in the growing heat of day, " The floating mists upon the plain " Dissolve to aiiy nothingness, " So all the vagu^e unreal bliss " Had gleamed upon the world in vain. " The Heaven that had stooped to earth " Was as a thing that once had been : " For ever gone the radiant scene, " The stately music and the mirth, " The choral dance and festival, " The long processions of the priests : "They could not banish from their feasts " The hand that wrote upon the wall " To tell them they had had their day. " The mystic influence that played " So great a part, the law obeyed " That dooms the brightest to decay. " The faith that had so long prevailed " Was like a tree whose sap runs out : " Swept by the icy blast of doubt, " Its leaf and tender fruitage failed. 22 Voiceii of Bouht arid other Foems. " The seers looked, but could not see ; " Attendant nj-mplis of stream or grove " Forsook their haunts, and ceased to rove ; " The woi'ld was tired of fantasy. " The Oracles some dumbness sealed : " Their wisdom was discredited ; " Their double-dealing words, 'twas said, " Had hidden rather than revealed. " The Bacchic frenzy and the song " That thinly veiled the naked lust " Subsided ; prostrate in the dtist " The superstition potent long. *' The flamens and the vestals all " Have left but ashes in their urns, " As dust to merely dust retui-ns " In sad and hopeless burial. " No worshippers libations pour, " For all the mighty gods are dead. " The visionary scene has fled ; " Their places know them now no more. " Yet, since the hunger of the heart " Was strong, and cried to be appeased Voices of Doubt. 23 " The vanished forms the Sculptor seized, " And still immortalised in Art. " His plastic hand incarnated, " Though in a kind of mimicry, " The gods that moi'tals fain would see ; " But the inspu-ing faith was dead. " The artist could not animate " The glorious forms his hand could mould, " The marble was so deadly cold, " But glorified their lost estate. " What then was left for man whereto " His soul might turn itself for food ? " The fleeting forms of earthly good " Might satisfy the swinish crew " Who seek no pai-adise but earth ; " But, with a nobler ardour fired, *' The purer spirits still aspired " To claim the honours of theii" bir'tli. " Some read the stars, and thought they saw " In movements of the complex choir " How things in heaven and earth conspu'e, " And all our life is veiled in awe. 24 Voices of Donhf and other Poems. " But Who, or wliei-e, or what is He "Whose will the wheeling choirs obey, " No wisest of the seers could say ; " Their unknown God was Destiny. " The heart was empty, and a chill " Reaction after baffled zeal, " Where death had almost set its seal, " Had fallen on the hopeless will. " Philosophy then filled the void ; " Through Plato and his glorious school " The worship of the beautiful, " Which doubt had daunted, not destroyed, " Arose again — its best result " A more ideal turn of thought. " The archetype the thinker sought " Was found, and in the Chi'istian cult " Philosophy joined hand in hand "With faith, to give the world a creed. " The gulf of being seemed indeed " If this were true, comj)letely spanned. " If I could think it wholly true " That One has come by moving sign Voices of Lonht. 25 ' To prove the roots of life divine, ' And lead iis by a certain clue, ' All life were happier ; but I see ' How Hope creates a Paradise, ' And how the airy visions rise ' Of God and immortality. ' To take our place among the gods ' Immortal in beatitude — ' To see in Him, the Perfect Good, ' The mighty Jove Avho never nods, ' And to discover after all ' That we have only claspt a cloud ! ' The lower for our dreamings proud ' The idol we had raised would fall. ' Far better, surely, to await ' The great event that none foresee : ' Perhaps a God of love may be, ' And not a mere relentless Fate : ' I know not, and I deem it best ' To trace again the charactei-s ' Which Moses reads amiss or blurs, ' On Nature's wondrous palimpsest. "26 Voices of Doiiht and other Poems. " The elements have made their mark, " And Science with a certain rule " Can measure all : in that great school " To honest learners nought is dark. " I work by methods well defined, " But all that lies beyond their range " Is doubtful : men's opinions change ; " No asfe is of a constant mind. " Yet, though illusions fade and flee, » " There stands one sure and stedfast rock " Immovable amid the shock " Of waves upon a restless sea. " All nature owns the reign of law : ■"There they who look may clearly see: " All else is merely drapery " To clothe the human hope and awe. ^'Tlie wish was father to the thought: ■*' The gods of old came down to men : *' A human god might come again : " What wonder if to minds untaught •" Some grand heroic Man might show " Such wisdom, masteiy, and force. Voices of Doubt. 27 "And eloquence of pni-e discourse, " That, as they watch its golden flow, " They own Him noble and divine ? " A hei'o, demigod, or moi-e, " He comes the Order to restore " Long passed away ; and with the wine " Of new belief they fain would fill " The bottles that had waxen old, " Unfit the larger truth to hold, " Till by an effort of their will ' Their hope has grown into a creed. " On that unreal basis stands " The ' house of God not made with hands.' " The Christian witnesses agi'eed, " But who can trust their ears and eyes Y " Through men so simple and devout *' Who know not what it is to doubt. The worst delusions iimj arise." This attitude might answer well If we could stand outside ourselves. And thoughts were merely tricksome elves 28 Voices of Doubt and ntlier Poems. Like those that haunt some fairy dell, And so dismiss as poetry — ■ A toiling life's Midsummer dream — The more ethereal lights that gleam Across the earthly scenery. If men could live within the seen And find their natui-e satisfied, With patience we might then abide Till death shall come to shift the scene. But when, within us, deep to deep In storms of Passion loudly calls, When conscience speaks, and sin appals, And feai's we cannot lay to sleep Make us demand the reason why Of tliis unrest ; ami though tlie dust Casts blindness on us, and though lust Debases, yet within us cry Pure voices coming from afar, And, as a harp by sweet airs SAvept, We hear the harmonies that are Within us, and around, to bear Their witness of our heritage, Voices of Doubt. 29 We burst the bars of this poor cage, And soar into our proper air. And even Science must beh'eve. And almost blindly, some few things : The warp and woof of proof are strings That only Faith can strongly weave. All reasonings of men must start From something that commands assent ; The cogency of argument Is more than dialetic art. Tlie instruments by which we think , We must believe in, and the whole Complex machine we call the soul Is like a chain whose every link The thinker cannot choose but trust, And, though his sight is often dim, The reason that is given him He uses freely, lest it rust. Presentiments that come unsought Press onwards through some open gate : Though ambushed Error lie in wait. 30 Voices of Doubt and other Foems. The birtlii'ight of a man is Thought. 'Twas Malebranche, the sage, who said — " Attention is a prayer for light ,•" The thinker, when he thinks aright, Is heard and answered in his need. No t]"a\"eller has found the source Where springs the Life that in its course The earthly tributaries feed, But all the lands through which it flows Are gladdened by the gracious stream. As moimtain-tops that cloud-capt seem Poiir down their wealth of melting snows,. So, from a thousand rivers fed. The stream of knowledge gathers force, And bears its fi-eight of high discourse. To souls of men like living bread. To us the world is full of light, Since all created things are signs Whose innei' meaning man divines : We walk by faith and not by sight. The mystic origin of man Grows clearer as our mother Eai'th Voices of Doubt. 31 ShoAvs tokens to lis of our birth, Not here amid the dust of Time, But in the dim Eternity. To heights where hfe is large and free These feet of ours shall one day climb ; For from the Infinite there come Sucli wafts of love, such passionate Prognostic of our true estate, Such listenings of faith, and dumb Out-reachings of the soul to God, That we are here as men that dream. And in transfigured moments seem To tread where angels may have trod. We slept in feeble infancy, BiTt who shall tell what visions came, Not shadowed yet by thoughts of shame ? One Face the children always see. Sometimes our life seems all a dream : The eyes that opened on the earth Were wistful, for the hour of bii'th Is like the springing of a stream 32 Voices of Doubt and other Poems. That hastens to a distant Sea Whlcli man sees dimly from afar And, like the Magi, seeks a star To guide him till the shadows flee. From one belief his course must start, That truth is at the root of things ; His thoughts are the awakenings Of spirit- being, each a part Of one great whole ; and being so. From truth to ti'utli he finds his Avay, And hails the tokens of the day. As certainties take form and grow. The ground is firm beneath his feet Because his human faculties He trusts. Existence, wanting this. Were only one prolonged deceit. But fear dilates his startled eyes To see unveiled the Master's hand ; As one who cannot understand Is speechless in his great sui'prise. He fears the play of some false light Fi'om dreamland, and would shut it out. Voices of.DouhL 33 So ignorance engenders doubt, But Faith can read the sign aright. How can the scornful doubter know That miracle is breach of law ? The men who tell us what they saw By no means wi'ite their record so. The forms appearing on the scene Our infant sciences transcend,* Yet may they show that pathways tend Where only feet divine have been. The broken Order that we see Is not the highest, after all ; A Mind all-seeing could forestall The gropings of futurity. Our human methods are so slow ; But what if all the secret things We track through painful reasonings He doth not need to seek, but know ? His eye a wider field may scan, And, touching springs of life more deep, *Appeiidix A. 34 Voices of Douht and other Poems. Within a law of nature keep Still hidden from the ken of man. If Science coiild do half as much In ages, as in those three years He did, Whose word unstopp'd deaf ears And healed the palsied Avith a touch, It might with more of fair pretence Adopt that proud omniscient tone Which in this century has grown To almost haughty insolence. We own the range of Nature's laws. And yet we know the will behind The published edict shows a Mind Whose being speaks in every clause. The mystic power can none escape That thrills creation witli its awe : The great World- Artist woi-ks ])y law To mould the matter into shape, And in His workshop you shall see The product of His j)lastic skill In living forms ; on plain and hill Voices of Doubt. 35 There is a breath of mystery, As if there stood behind the veil A Presence greater far than all The moimtain heights whose shadows fall At eventide, adown the dale. Dim-eyed, we are not wholly blind ; There passes over Nature's face A fugitive celestial grace Some inward instinct has divined. So sensitive in soul we are ! This quicken'd kindredness between Our nature and the outer scene, Is like a message sent from far. At best our Science knows in part. And, searching though its eager gaze, Its certainty is but a phrase — The clouds of truth so slowly part ! For hoAv the grass upon the lawns First came, the wisest doth not know, Oi- how the thoughts within us grow. Or how the childish reason dawns. Much lieth hidden from our quest : C 2 36 Voices of Doubt and other Poems. We cannot sound the mystic deep, Or span the Heavens, in the sweep Of seeing at its very best. Man measures, weighs, and deeply thinks, Asks certainty, but asks in vain ; He cannot tell who forged the chain Of which he sees tlie latest links. He cannot tell, for, out of sight, And long anterior to life. Arose the elemental strife With Chaos and the realm of Nio-lit. If, in the trackless ages past. Creation's path in shadow lies, And Science vainly strains her eyes To pierce the gloom ; if questions asked Get nothing but a half-reply That pregnant question of the soul — The moral meaning of the whole — For which the constant ages cry, When sages falter in their speech, God stoops in mercy to reveal. As men in blindness grope, to feel Voices of Doubt. 37 If through the darkness they can reach Some sure support on which to rest, So we, whose hungry wand'ring glance Is checked by walls of ignorance. Would deem our life indeed unblest If never, from the great unknown From which Ave come, to which we go, Could silence break to make us know We are not straws by wild winds strown On streams that lose themselves in sand — To make articulate the sighs Of strong desire, the spirit- cries That rise, and pass from land to land — To tell us what there is of true In dim suggestions that arise, And lead us on from vague surmise Till certainty is full in view. If God is God, and men are men, The shadow of the Infinite Will fall, and lead us on from IT To HIM who in the deep Amen Of human life is satisfied — 38 Voices of Douht and other Poems. Who gave us for our life His breath, And leads us through the gate of death To see the things the shadows hide. This discontent, these passionate Attempts of ours to seize and hold The truths the forms of language mould,- This thirst that nothing seems to sate To know the veiy truth of things. Might serve to show us that the soul Was meant at last to know the whole Of which it has foreshadowings. The range of human thought is more Than all our symbols can express ; The wisest of our race confess That they are standing on the shore, Mere wistful gazers on a sea Wliich stretches far beyond their reach, And sti'uggle in imperfect speech To set their pent emotion free. Although their nobler works may live, The perfect form of art was miss'd, Voices of Dotthf. 39 And what tliey did they hardly wist. So, in tlie poet's sensitive And tender touch of feeling's chords, A vision of some greater thing Tlian all his best imagining Eludes the baffled grasp of words. And this ideal which transcends All art, all mortal eloquence, Belongs not to the world of sense. Eternal Wisdom condescends To train us in an earthly school, Sustains our ardour of desii'e. Through these rude forms would lead us higher, To know the Good, the Beautiful. Say that our life is incomplete : If truth be at the root of all. Though one by one the thinkers fall, This lifelong passionate heart-beat Is one of nature's prophecies Of what our life is meant to be. The artist fairer forms shall see 40 Voices of Doubt and other Poems. When truth immortal clears his eyes. No side-glance at the Perfect Truth, But comes from Him, the Source of good, By whom our thoughts are understood ; And through the dreamings of. our youth, In hope, desire, presentiment, He communes with us, to forecast The truth that shall be known at last. As something yet more excellent. But this, some say, is dreaming too : They fain would touch and handle all The feelings as they rise and fall. The lights and shadows on the view Thought tries to seize, but soon lets slip. This Nature has so many things. Mere " fallings from us, vanishings," Which all the cunning of the lip Can ill interpret to our thought. But there were surely tokens there Of something so divinely fair. Suggested, hinted, hardly caught. Voices of Bouht. ^ 41 That life grows tame and commonplace From which the hope it kindled fades, And all the beauty of the glades Has lost its spiritual grace. But, though the poet-nature feels Within his soul, and everywhere, A Spirit moving in the air. Which sense half hides, and half reveals, And walks as if on holy ground. The duller men of coarser grain Deride such fancies, and complain That this is merely empty sound. Too practical to dream or muse, They treat it as a grave offence Disparaging to common sense, To let imagination loose. Well, let us take our common stand On lower levels. We are awed By tokens, as we look abroad, Of more than sense can understand. 42 ' Voices of Doubt and other Poems. If they must judge by rule of touch, And ask the questions " Where ? " and "When ? "- The force that swayed the wills of men And left on History so much Of substance — let them ponder it. The passion that could fire the cold, And make the timorous high-souled, As men Avhose aims were infinite — Had this its root in fantasy ? How could they make their goings sure ? How could the works they did endure ? What bond of real unity, What hope for right against the wrong, To make the way of progress clear, But faith in God, who giveth ear To them who cry — " Hoiv long ? liow long ? " Were there no central ground for men. No bond to bind us into one, No Ruler seated on His throne, Why should not anarchy again Sweep like a tidal wave o'er all That out of chaos men have won ? Voices of Doubt. 43 Historic unity undone, Tlie future with the past would fall. Beneath the internecine strife, The forward movement, and the chill That often fell upon the will, The prophets saw a cosmic life, And sometimes, in exulting strains. Appealed to all who would be free. And led them on to victory. Until they rose and broke their chains. Yet, since thei-e mingle Nature's cry And earth-born thought with things divine, And we can hardly mark the line Where hopes and fears of men that die Break in, and mar the pi'ophet's strain — Since our interpretations fail, And men would see without its veil The truth of God, to read it plain — There gi-ew a hope so strong and clear That nations dwelling far apai't 44 Voices of Douht and other Poems. Who press'd it to their beating heart, Thrilled strangely as the hou-r drew near. It sfrew into a racing thirst That nothing seemed to satisfy, For all the reservoirs were dry That seemed so promising at first — Would God Himself but speak to man ! At last the standard was unfurled That stii-red the heart of all the world, And through the lands the tidings ran — " Lo, He hath come, the world's desire " To smite the battlements of wrong !" Hearts beat again, and hands grow strong ; Despairing wills once more aspire To scale the heights of saintliness. And making light of suffering. And counting life a little thing, By deathless deeds to glory press. The world leapt up with life renewed, And all the fviture glowed with light. When, longing faith replaced by sight, He came to lead the hosts of good. Voices of Bouht. 45 The men that, wandering forlorn, Had been as children fatherless, Knelt down, since He had come to bless, And all the unbelieving scoi'n Of mocking spirits only drew The children closer to the side Of Him whose breath had purified The hope that now sprang up anew. Then some who scoffed began to pray. They found that now, baptised mth fire, The resurrection of desire Was sweeter for the long delay. The wilderness and desert smiled, New flowers of grace began to grow. And busy husbandmen to sow The seed that would reclaim the wild. Coherent grew the life of man ; The many strong conflicting wills Together flowed, like mountain rills That into one great channel I'an. The sense of brotherhood was dim Till He wlio showed by word and sign 46 Voices of Douht and other Poems. How Imman life becomes divine United all tlirougli love of Him. And this great thought is living still ; The doubters who, whate'er their plea, In every man a brother see, Mnst follow Christ against their will. And some who yield to that constraint, Not knowing wherefore they obey. By many speaking signs bewray The secret temper of the saint.* They enter not the Temple gate, Bnt from the Holy Cit}' strains Have strayed, that, floating o'er the plains. Have reached them in their sad estate. There is a blessing on the meek Who, though they dou.bt, nor strive nor cry, And still for clearer vision siofh. Their love is strong if faith is weak, And they who love are more akin To Him who sums Himself in this, • Ai)pendix B. Voices of Doubt. 47 Than dreamers on a selfish bliss, Who only care that they may win. The puzzles of the intellect Are known to Him who knoweth man, And, in the working of His plan. Perhaps among His own elect Some sad misgiving souls may be. Who, walking with uncertain tread, Have through the darkness still been led ; For all the pure in heart shall see ! 48 Voices of JDouht and other Poems. ¥l)e ]v[i^litfkll. ^HE Sun, slow vanisliing, liatli set, But darkness deepenetli not yet. These trembling movements of the light Foi'ewarn us now that stealthy Night Is near, and all things feel her breath : A form like that of hooded Death Is putting forth a dusky hand To dim the beauty of the land. These faint vibrations in the air Are like a sympathetic scai'e, As if a soul beneath the sense Discerned a hostile influence. Like Autumn, lovely in decay, So fades the glory of the day. * AppencTix C. A Nightfall. 49 Long streams of ci'inason from the west Show glorious on the monntain's crest ; But in an instant passes too The spendour of that roseate hue. Then, shooting through the afterglow, Some magic hath the skill to throw Long darts of light, that change to gold Each edge of cloud ; and o'er the wold The floating mist is all aflame. As when some grave and stately dame Lights up the pallour of her liue With rosebuds, sprinkled as Avith dew, So Nature o'er t\\Q azure throws A vestui-e rich with evening glows, And wears, in southern splendour drest, . One cross of brilliants on her breast. But Twilight now uplifts her hand, And as she waves liei- faiiy wand, All forms ai'e melted and transfused ; The gazer, hardly disabused Of all that lately dazzled him. 50 Voices of Douhf and other Poems. Yet sees tlie glory Avaxen dim. Night darkens swiftly on tlae sky, And all things seem to heave a sigh Of grief, to think the day is dead. And, as men walk with soften'd tread In presence of that great repose When, sad at heart, some watcher throws In tenderness the decent veil To hide the face, so marble pale, So now upon the rev'rent breast There falls a solemn sense of rest. When all the west has lost its glow, With steps grown pensive now, and slow,. The wanderer, absorbed in thought. Amid the gloom has faintly caught Some vague sxiggestion in the hour Of converse with a holy Power. The darkling glade is tilled with peace ; As one who welcomes the release From garish day, and gauds of sense, He bendeth low in reverence. Ephphatha. 51 S -;'3E^ The Widoios Son of Nain. 63- ^\q Wido^YV Hoi] of X^in- " He saith to her : Weep not." ^ jXp OW could slie choose but weep When he who was her only son Lay there in his last sleep — Of all hei- loved ones left not one? How could she hut recall . Her early days of widowhood, When winter fell on all, And woman's young beatitude Had passed like any dream ? One thing alone her life sustained — In gloom one bright sun-gleam — Her son, her comforter, remained. And now that son is dead ! The lifeless form upon the bier 64 Voices of Doubt and other Poems. They bear to its last bed. If ever one miglit slied a tear That one was surely she. The heart's complaint we almost hear — " son, not iveep for thee, " Wlio wert, and art, so dear, so dear ! " Who would not feel for her ? The Stranger bids the bearers stay, And they, Avithout demur, In great astonishment obey. They see upon His face A look of strange unearthly power, And yet a human grace. So tender of her wither'd flower. He understands her woe, And speaks His gracious words of cheer In accents soft and low That fall like music on the ear. What depth of holy light Is looking from those wondrous eyes. So soft and yet so bright ! The Widoiv's Son of Nain. 65 Then, when He bids the youth arise The dead comes back again, Like to a sleeper who awakes, Roused by the hum of men. A holy voice the silence breaks With words of happy sound. " Wliij shoidd you tveep ? He is not dead ! "Re lives! the lost is found." N'ot now with mournful muffled tread The slow procession goes. The blood is mounting to his cheek, The heavy eyes unclose; The lately dead begins to speak, The fetter'd mind is free. The strains of plaintive music cease, The minstrel melody That bids the soul depart in peace. The beckon'd soul returns ; The vital spai'k that had decayed Is lit again, and burns ; And now they burst in praise who prayed. E 66 Voices of Doubt and other Poems. He liad not wandered far But on tlie verge of Paradise Where happy spirits are, Had lingered, in his great surprise To see the form they wear, And hardly for a little hour Could breathe that finer air, But, like a man bereft of power, Saw all as one that dreamed — 80 strangely through the slumb'rous sense The mystic glory gleamed. And yet that breath of innocence Would sweeten now to him The life of earth he had to live. One moment on the bi'im Of life more deep, more sensitive To every toiich of good, The man who almost with the blest A little while had stood, And seen their perfectness of rest, Would bear with him through all Some sign upon his veiy face The Widow's Son of Nain. 67 Of what that interval Had wrought foi' him of growth in grace. Mystei'ions wave of life That bi-eaks upon these earthly shores "With foam of grief and strife ! Its goings vainly love explores. As moonlight grows and wanes We see the strong tides ebb and flow ; We hear the mingling strains Of gladness fading into woe. Across the waves of sound Pass cries for help or sad farewell, And each sepulchral mound Some tragic history might tell. The cry was answered then ; The springs of life were out of sight, But now there flowed again A fuller stream of pure delight. Ah, what is He who stands, Ideal greatness in His face, And with uplifted hands, E 2 68 Voices of Douht and other Poems. Like one of a superior race ? Tliey know not Avlience He came, Or where He gat His royalty, But on the roll of fame Is none inscribed so great as He. For He hath made it plain That Life is lordliest of all, And despot Death in vain To his destrojnng hosts shall call To raise his fallen crown. The souls of men of right belong To Him who once laid down The life that was so great and strong. Men live, they fade, they die. They gather weeping round the grave, But not in vain they cry — He will restore the life He gave. All lips once cold in death His kiss of love will touch, and then His vivifying breath Will change the dead to living men. The Star in the East. 69 ^\q Htai' ir\ tlie 5e^HAT gain shall it be to a man to liave won, Whilst crowds are oulooking, some coveteclprize, If, resting from toil, when the race has been run, And the light has grown dim that dazzled his eyes. The soul shall awake to discover too late That all that is precious in life has been lost ? The end is so nea.r, and the messengers wait To tell him the river of death must be cross'd ; The message is urgent, and must be obeyed. The apples of Sodom, so ruddy and fair, Are as dust in his teeth — he sits there afraid ; He likes not the sound that he heai's in the air. The crush'd flowers of promise lie dead at his feet The brief exultation, the shollow delight 126 Voices of Bouht and other Poems. Have passed like a dream ; lie can liear his heart beat To think of the things that may be in the night. He sought not the treasure that waiteth on high — The treasure no waste or decay can consume. If once he desired it, the time has gone by ; His barns are all filled, but he broodeth in gloom. Ambition is empty, and honours are vain, And he that was crowned as the king of the feast Is lower than all ; there are shriekings of pain : In the song of his life the music has ceased. He is helpless indeed, so faint is his hold On the things that he loved, and nothing remains But waiting and fearing. He bought and he sold, And this is the end of his scheming and gains ! The vultures are round him before he is dead : The man has been lost in the things that he had : He knows that as soon as his spirit has fled The faces will wreathe them in smiles that were sad. They will talk to each other of what he was worth : Each greedy expectant will count on his share ; But as for the man — " Dust to dust, earth to earth,'' Is the empty lament that will rise on the air. The Bich Fool. 127 His pageant of life Avas a pitiful role ; And yet there is schooling for liini as for all. The eyes that were blind were the eyes of his soul, And haply the scales of his blindness will fall When, illusions all gone, his spirit has turned To Him who makes life such a wonderful school. The Master can wait till the lesson is learned — Our hearts are so empt}-, and His is so full. •r.!^^ 128 Voices of Douht and other Poems. Tl\e •rropliet Voi^e^. F old, a voice from out tlie dark A mystic expectation raised : Tlie patient prophets stedfast gazed, And bade the listening world remai-k When solemn laimours spread abroad, And armies with their thundering tread Strewed battle-fields with many dead, Behind the scene, the march of God As One who in mysterious ways, When war has let its bloodhounds loose, Turns all unto a higher use. And makes the wicked hymn his praise. The rays of light beneath the cloud The lustre of His state proclaim, And at the splendour of His name Men bend, a rapt adoring crowd. Tlie Prophet Voices. 129 Each lioly prophet was a seer, The nations showed lit tip in flame, Before him the procession came, And what he saw the workl might hear. But did he see ? The sceptic soul That animates our modern hfe Sees nothing but abortive strife — At best, a race withotit a goah When men would build a stedfast bridge, They cast across the chasm a line ; To straining eyes it seems so tine That, as it goes from ledge to ledge. They almost lose the sight of it ; And some woiild ask if seers indeed The hidden things of God can read, And if their word is Holy Writ. Well, let it pass — perhaps they dreamed — A saner liglit is in our eyes ! Yet through these prophet-dreams arise Such thoughts profound as men have deemed Most precious in their waking hours. So rapt in soul, if false their fire, 130 Voices of Doubt and other Poems. They kept alive tlie world's desire, And reinforced with higher powers The life that but for them had died. 'Twas work for heroes to perform, To venture in amid the storm. To breast the onset of the tide. And, in the shrieking of the gale. To hear a call in some dark hour To wrestle with unrighteous power, Strong in the cause that must prevail — To play the man amid the strife, And bear abroad a sov'reign charm To cleanse the fierce from thoughts of harni,- To give a larger scope to life — ■ To penetrate the daik Unknown, And, in the might of holy faith, To trample down the fear of death. As men who know that none alone, Unhelp'd and hopeless, live and die ! They bore a crest upon their helm As knights and freemen of a realm Whose King and Sceptre ai-e on high ! The Prophet Voices. 131 The prophet voices that could still The heathen clamour and the rage, And carry on fi'om age to age Their witness of One holy Will To which the wills of men must yield, Drew all their superhuman might From Him who, though He hides from sight, To man His nature has revealed. -^-^^^^^a I 2 132 Voices of Doubt and other Poevis. U I 0\hll die aloiie/' (PASCAL.) .tWN ci'owcled lialls ablaze with light One sacl-ejed bi'ooding guest Felt through the exquisite delight A sense of strange unrest. The melody to Pascal seemed Too lulling in its sound, Too sensuous : so men have dreamed Of brows with laurel crown exl, And sought in Passion's fever'd joys Their earthly Paradise, And found their Heaven in the voice, Or in the singer's eyes. There Pleasure's fairest blossoms blow. And yield their richest scent ; But what is this that speaks in low " I shall die alone." 133 And sad presentiment ? Beneath the sweetness of the air There sounds a lower tone — "Although the world is all so fail', Yet I shall die alone !" Though gaily fingers touch the string, And all is heedless glee. Yet from the depths doth music bring A weird solemnity. To live alone were not so hard For one who is a man, For life itself is often marred And hindered of its plan By rude intrusion, and the noise Of laughter in the ears That fain would listen for the voice Aye sounding through the years. Or controversies loud and long, . So often empty sound, Dispute the place with dance and song. And each would hold its gi'ound. 134 Voices of Doubt and other Poems. I think that I can live my life In my own fashion best : I weary of the noise and strife : My spirit longs foi- i-est. A man may shnn the moving crowd : Whatever risks he dares, He waits not on their plaudit loud : He lives his life, not theii's. Ah, yes, if units were we all, Each one himself a god, We need not hear when brothers call, Or stretch our love abroad. We do not need to turn for aid To battle with the wrong. When hope has not begun to fade. And life in us is strong. And, in the languid intervals Of utter listlessness. When some mystei-ious shadow falls Of meaningless distress, Perhaps we then would flee away " I shall die alone." 135 To some vast solitude, And in tlie gi-oves of silence stray Congenial to onr mood. But soon we tind we cannot live Shut up in lonely thought : The fancy is but fugitive : The mind Avas overwrought. We want the faces that we know To cheer us with their light : The cherished scenes of long ago Renew their old delight. We turn to dear companionship In labour and in rest : We would not willingly let slip The liand that love has pressed. But if tlie weight of life grows less When friends beloved are nigh, What then must be our loneliness When we shall come to die ? So dear and cherished, will they all Stand senseless at our side, 136 Voices of Bouht and other Poems. Nor answer to tlie fondest call, But in the darkness hide P Nay, may it rather be that we Have hidden from their eyes, And, though they gaze and long to see, No glance of onrs replies P In that our time of direst need Cast prone upon our bed. Though words of comfort and Godspeed May tendei'l}' be said. Yet there is something in the scene That baffles love's desire : A mystic veil has come between The loAver love and higher. Like some uncertain flick'ringldamp Life burns but feebly now : The hands are cold, the awful damp Of death is on the brow. They see the slow and fitful breath : The spirit drags its chain : They see how long he lingereth " I shall die alone:' 137 Insensible to pain. All, what is that obscurity Through Avhich he tracks his way ? The night is long, and who shall see The breaking of the day ? There is an inner secret room. To which the soul retires. The vestibule is draped in gloom : Without are earth's desires — Within — so changed from yesterday ! — Can none go hand in hand. Without, they kneel and weep^and pray_: Within, unseen may stand The white- robed messengers of light; But none without that door See aught but deepening shades of night Behind them and before. We wait — we cannot enter in — Our love is far too weak. Our breath has such a taint of sin We know not how to speak 138 Voices of Douht and other Poems. In words to reach the ear of one So neai' and yet so far. The words tinsaid, the things undone !Must so : tlie nnseen bar Between ns now no hand can raise. No words of dear farewell, Nor yet the long and meaniaig gaze The mutual love can tell. But One there is who can he all That fellowship is here : Within that room His soft footfall ]Might chase away the fear If only through the walls of sense The spirit-sounds could stray. The certainty of His defence Is more than we can say. Perhaps the Gallic saint and sage Who listened to his scml And, turning to life's closing page Where " Finis" sums the whole, With half a ti-utli was too content, " I shall die alone" 139 And; in that undertone, Omitted something that was meant When he said — " die alofie." It is not true : not qiiite alone They die who rest in Him. We start to hear the dying moan, And, bending o'er life's brim, We look with trouble in our eyes, But He who died is there, And He will bid our brother rise : We leave him to His care. '0^W%^ 140 Voices of Doubt and other Poems. ^l\Q Con}iotthhh Woi'tl^. 1. c^OME UNTO Me, and I will give you rest I Along' the wildly windswept rocky steep The curling waves at last lie down to sleep; There, where the storms have been the angriest,, On Nature's lips the kiss of peace is prest : No foam of passion now is on the deep. But Who is this tliat stills the fever'd leap Of wild emotion in the trotibled breast Whose human yearning love, unsatisfied, Has found in all no sweetness of repose ? From wanderings of vain desire we tui-n To One with wliom is no repulse, and hide The blush of shame, the bitter tear that flows. And He who pardons bids us cease to mourn. The Comfortable Words. 141 2. " So God has loved the world /" Ouv dim outlook Is shadow'd, and we cannot see His Face : Time has its tensors, and there traverse space The crossing lines of pain we cannot brook. Fi'om Natni'e turning to the Holy Book Where all is written plainly, there we trace From page to page, the stedfast growth of grace, Till all can see what one dear Son forsook To show tlie world how God in sacrifice Held nothing back, but opened all His Heart, And clasp'd us to it, giving us His best. And then are soothed the low misgiving sighs : "When life gi^ows sad, and fleeting joys depart. We cling the closer to a Father's breast. 3. A saying fit for all men t(3 believe — That Jesus Christ has come, and come to save The very worst. No tei-rcn- of the grave Keed darken faith, nor burden'd conscience heave With pain, if but the sinner will receive 142 Voices of Bouht and other Poems. This truth in all its fulness. He who gave His Son hath vanquished doubt ; no heart can crave- A surer word of promise. Let us leave Onr vain devices to obtain relief, And cast ourselves on Him, the Holv One. Of all the sinful though we seem to stand Branded, distinguished as the very chief. He will not stay until His work is done. And all are gathered at His own right hand. 4. From perils that have thronged upon our way, At last delivered ; for the peace attained Our God be praised ! And yet we have not gained The shelter of some tranquil landlock'd bay, Where no ill thing can come, or friends betray. "Who of His rescued ones has not complained Of sins besetting, feelings unrestrained That seem to steal the purest hopes away ? But if thou sin, oh, hast thou not the Clu-ist ? He knows thy weakness, and will advocate. The Comfortable Woi'ds. 143 And not in vain, tliy cause, and win His plea. As on the day when He was sacrificed Thy shame was His, He bears with thee the weight Of all thy bonds, and yet will set thee free. 144 Voices of Douht and other Poems. Coq^ielei' tte L(ilie^. 'HE Lilies see — consider how tliey grow ! When Winter cast upon the .sleeping Earth Now all disrobed, her coverlet of snow, It was as one who waiteth for a biiih Would shield the mother from the deadly cold ; There, safely shelter' d from the biting blast The lilies lay. So Nature doth enfold Her treasures till the stormy winds are past. What were they then ? No form or comeliness Was theirs ; no promise gave they of the grace That now arrays them ; none who saw could guess The coming change, when o'er a pallid face Would steal this roseate flush, this various tint Of blended colour. Groups of men passed by, And saw, but thought n(jt, as they came and went, Consider the Lilies. 145 How that bare field the Spring would glorify. The modest Earth was hiding from their sight Her coming joy ; but soon the bursting blade Shot upward, and the genial warmth and light Beamed on it, and around it daily played. Till lo ! with glory greater than of old King Solomon in all his splendour wore, Robed though he was in purple fringed with gold, These orient lilies came, with all their store Of secret gloiy flashing into light. Their slumb'ring life had quicken'd in the breath That maketh all souls live ; and now the bright Glad vision tells of Love that cherisheth All that is hidden from us by the grave. He Who thus decked the lilies, shall not He Give back the lost for whom our spirits crave ? Yes, they will come, and when their forms we see Radiant, immortal, fairer than before, The lesson of the lilies will be read. The earthly Ijeauty will return, and more. When they shall live again that once were dead. 146 Voices of Doubt and other Poetiis. ¥l\e Joiii^i\e3" to ^aii|kilh;. 'HE pastures sparkled still with dew At early morn ; but soon there grew On meadoAV land and distant height, Through gloom and grey of dawn, a light That, with a gloiy all divine, Stole o'er the face of Palestine. Across the meadows richly grass'd A group in friendly converse passed, Afoot betimes, like men intent On some far journey, while the scent Diffused around from shrub and flower Ai'ose like incense, at the hour That bids the sleeping Avorld ai'ise To pay its morning sacrifice. The Journey to Samaria. 147 Their footfall fell by cottage eaves Half hidden by the clinging leaves, Through cornfields bare of garner'd grain, •Then out into the open plain Where, thoua'h they still Avei-e half asleep, Life stirr'd among the drowsy sheep, And lowing cattle called to men To tell them day was come again, And to an ineffectual light Had paled the star, so lately bright, That on the brow of Morn is set. Although the sun's disc showed not_"yet. But when that richer tract was cross'd, The landscape all its verdure lost. The signs of human life were few : A dulness fell upon the view. And presently from Nature's face Had passed its bright ideal grace. N'o leafy coverts cast their shade. On no soft sward the sunlight played. For plains unlovely, treeless, vast. Without a shelter from the blast, K 2 148 Voices of Doubt and other PoeiJis. Stretclied on before them, and. no fair Encliantment now was in the air. But when Samai-ia drew near, Life murmur'd softly in their ear. Within a picturesque defile The flowei'ing shrubs began to smile. Round trunks the wild clematis twined. Its sprays toss'd gaily in the wind. And here and there, the trickling I'ills Into the valley from the hills Brought fi-eshness with them in their flow. By banks where oleanders grow Their pathway went, and through the trees Came fitful movements of the breeze. That hover'd like the soft caress Of tender bashful lovingness. Their step grew firmer : on they pressed, Cheered by the hope of noontide rest, ♦ While through the gate of every sense Came some reviving influence. The Journey to Samaria. 149 But soon an open vast champaign Of fertile undulating plain Shows how the bnsy tiller's hand Has set its mark upon the land. The vineyards are in winter guise, But wreaths of smoke from homesteads rise, And, though the harvest long is o'er, The farmyards bear their goodly store, Tellins: of Ions: industrious care Ere yet the golden fields were bare. The dusky olive copses cast Their gloom upon them as they passed : The almond groves, no longer green, Now showed the struggling light between Their naked liiubs, whose fading tint Grew ruddy in the passing glint Of sunlight, as it dallied there ; And through the clear translucent air Gleam upon gleam of radiance came To fleck, as with a lambent flame. Gaunt trees, and their more sombre hues With richer colour to suffuse. 150 Voices of Doubt and other Poeins. With "welcome promise of repose Mount Ebal and Gerizim rose Fair in their sight : no need to tell That now they near the ancient well Dear to the heart of Israel. Ct>^ At the Well of Samaria. 151 St tl\e Well of H^ii|krik 'HERE, springing from a rocky bed, And like a message from tlie dead Tliey see the living water rise. At Jacob's well, tlieir musing eyes Behold again the riven rock. Their father and his thirsty flock, And all the scenes of that old time. None but the dwellers in a clime Where fitfully the waters flow. The blessings of the fountain know. They rest awhile, then go to buy Food to sustain them, lest they die. But One is left, and yonder stone A King hath chosen for His throne. In want of rest, in want of food, 152 Voices of Doubt and other Poems. A man in utter solitude, All travel-stained, in mean attire, A peasant with no lordly sire, Few would observe the regal air In that meek Head that droopeth there. His burning thirst he cannot slake. As Tantalus upon the lake Of ancient fable sought in vain One drop to ease his constant pain. But He would be a man indeed. Our brother with us in our need. Would understand our pangs of thirst. And know our nature at its worst — ■ Take jiart in all with them that die, And bear His Cross, and make no cry. At last, a Avoman of the i5lace, A stranger, and of alien race. Approached the well. Although she came To succoiir that enfeebled frame, Yet, only grave with household care, Af the Well of Samaria. ISS Slie idly on her shoulder bare Her empty pitcher. To restore In Him the wasted strength — in her New depths of secret thought to stir, And all her void of heart to fill- Little, as she came down the hill, Deemed she that therefore she was there. No voice prophetic in the aii' Bade her prepare her soul to see The truth of God that maketh free. She saw a man of Jewish race, But there was something in His face That almost might conciliate The bitter old Chaldcean hate. Perhaps she feared the Hebrew pride, And was inclined to turn aside, Though womanlike, with look askance, And curious meaning in her glance. It was a gentle face, though sad. And through His pride, if pride He had, 154 Voices of Do^iht and other Poems. There gleamed a gracious tenderness. Nay, there was that in His address That showed His utter trust in lier, And, if she dallied, her demur Betokened rather her sui prise To see His meek appealing eyes Than callous hardness of the heart. A Jew ! the Avoman well might start To see Him trusting her like this ! No curse had ever come araiss To them of proud Jerusalem Who feared to soil their garment's hem, If such as she but passed them by. Yet He — she asked in wonder why — Dealt with her as a brother might. He spoke as if He had the right, As if lier womanhood were more Than all the signs her aspect wore That she was one who nursed a feud — As if He could discern the good That lay beneath the alien crust, And freely yield to it His trust. At the Well of Samaria. 155 And yet she listened donbtfullj. Give tliis man drink ! Slie knew that He Was One who from defilement shrank — How could He, when He stooped and drank, Escape defilement ? For her hand Was that of one the Jew had bann'd, Renounced, accursed of God and man. The very name Samaritan Evoked a dull relentless hate No lapse of time had power to sate ; But Jesus taught the world the art By trusting men to touch the heart. He spake as if one common ground Of pure humanity were found ; And yet she puzzled at His word. As if she had not lightly heard. He had not whereAvithal to draw : Could He intend, despite the law, To suffer her to give to Him, To dip her vessel o'er the brim And with the cooling drink allay The thii'st and fever of the way ? 156 Voices of Donhf and other Poems. Wliat wonder if her hand delays ? What wonder if she feels amaze ? A woman of a mongrel creed To help a Hebrew in his need ! Then He, in langnage mystical, To that dark sonl began to call. Against her race His own might rave, Bnt He was One avIio came to save The men on whom they fain would cry For fire consuming from on high. Of all the prophets He was first To win with blessing the accurst, And raise the sinner's drooping head. This temper showed in what He said — • "Duis-f flwu hut hnoiv U7io ^peaA's to thee, ''^ And all thy spirifs penury, " Then thoti ivotddst ash of Me, and I " Thy cravings all would satisfy. " Lo, at this well the sons of men " Come oft tu drink, and thirst again, At tlie Well of Samaria. 157 " But from a deeper source I brmg " To thirsting souls, a living spring " Whose waters mock not, nor run dry, " And they who drinh shall never die^ His speech was of a higlier good As yet but dimly understood ; But now tlie scene liad changed to her, And she was the petitioner. " Give me this water," was her cry, " Instead of each day's poor supply." Mere fi-eedom from an irksome task Were all the words appeared to ask, Some hope of freedom from the toil Of household care, the daily coil Of meaner things, that gathers round A life shut in by narrow bound, Arose Avithin her, but as yet There was no passionate i-egret For wasted hours : no voice within Bade her bethink her of her sin : 158 Voices of Douht and other Poems. And yet there was a dawning too, Thongli dim, as dawn is, to lier view, Of what in Hfe is loveliest. A sense of trustfulness and rest Unconsciously stole over her, . And, as her thoughts grew tenderer. The sweetness of the Stranger's voice Subdued to holy calm the noise Of restless oft-reciirring care, And fell upon the soul like praj-er. As in the Temj^le's shade, the life That shelters from the outer strife In that dim light gains some faint view Of what it might be, born anew. The soul that long had slept has stirr'd, As when a loving voice is heard ' That calleth at the break of day To bid the sleeper rise and pray. Yet not at one swift sudden bound Can any reach the depth profound Of words that, glorious and divine. Can stir the torpid blood like wine. At the Well of Samaria. 15^ Dry questions of mere ritual Stand to so many souls for all Tliat represents the great desii-e To worship and adore. The fire Of hot debate which they can feel Is like the mimicry of zeal, And all the wrano-lino- of the schools The hungry soul with hrsks befools. The outside questions of the hour Discuss'd with heat, can overpower The urgent message to the soul That seeks to lay its strong control On thought and feeling and desire Till dreams of earth grow purer, higher. So she, to meet the fancied mood Of One who no doubt understood The controversy raging long, And prove to Him that she was strong In all the fence of argument, Proposed, as one on truth intent, To put to some decisive test Which way of worship was the best. 160 Voices of Bouht and other Poems. But He, on no false issue led, Refused that dreary path to tread. The mention of her husband's name O'ercast her argument with shame. The matron's dignity and grace That shelter'd in a pure embrace Were gone from her : so long ago Her womanhood had stoopll so low ! Whence had He gained this power to scan Her life, since life for her began ? Her quicken'd sense could ill endure That glance of His, so heav'nly pure. She knew, in that mysterious pain. The real nature of her stain — Nay, more than this, her every deed Here was a prophet that could read. The sin that, hidden in her breast, So long had lain, was manifest. She saw her very self at last Adown the vista of the past : Perhaps her life befoi-e her rose. Its passion, and its false repose. At the Well of Samaria. 161 She saw again the barren years, The brief delight, the long-dried tears, The new-born hope, and then the pain That told her she had loved in vain. Each former wound had left its scar : With self herself had been at war : The echoes of her vain desires Of passion, love, and jealousy Came, like a wailing from the sea. Where shipwreek'd hopes and projects drowned Give tragic meaning to the sound. 'Twas strange that this mysterious Chance interview should move her thus ! One hint at what her life had been Brought othei' actors on the scene. And ghosts, long-buried, came again, And faces of forgotten men. The soTil that to accusing eyes Is all laid bare, with new surprise Discerns the heinousness of sin At last, at last, and then begin 162 Voices of Doubt and other Poems. By Bietliods that we cannot trace, The workings of mj'stei'ions grace. But over all lier spirit's strife There came a breath of purer life, And, moved b}' stiri'ings of new lo^'e That lifted her so far above The sordid past, she called to her Housemate, and friend, and villager, To tell them all the wondrons tale. And bid them the Messiah hail. They came, the village patriarch On whom the j^ears had set their mark, Wearing a look of grave surprise. The women Avith their great brown eyes. The swarthy men : all, half afraid. The unaccustomed call obeyed. The Avords she spake are left untold : At first abashed, then growing bold, Perhaps she sought her way to feel, And they, who saAv her new-born zeal, Were smitten into reverence. At the Well of Samaria. 163 And saw in her the evidence That found its -way to eveiy breast Till they, with her, the Christ confess'd. How much the J knew, we cannot tell : Their simple hearts before Him fell, And, knowing- Him, they knew the whole Glad Gospel that redeems the soul. They entered a compulsive school. And they who know but that one rule, To follow on where'er He leads, Will find that what their nature needs To round the sphere of life in bliss, Is all consummated in this. -r^"^ L 2 164 Voices of Donht and other Poems. ^oi^qet^ or( tl\e l\e^ui¥e6tioi| * I. N'ATURAL ANALOGIES. '^ HE chrysalis may cast his litisk, and spring Into the glad pnre air, exnltingly, As one that now has but begun to be — Transfigured, beau^tiful, and on the wing- Find sweetness everywhere — a glorious thing Instinct with life, emancipated, free To range at large from flower to flower. But we — Is it a vain and fond imagining That makes us dream we too shall cast aside This mere intes-ument of what we are ? — Shall clear the slumber from our heavj- ej'es, And wake again, re-born, and, eager-eyed, See well at last, wliere neither moon nor star Shall look from out the dark of unknown skies ? ♦Suggested by passages in a treatise ou tlie Eesurrectiou by tbe Rev. S. Cox, author of " Salvator Mimdi." Sonnets on the JResurrection. 165 II. THE ALTERNATVE OF DESPAIR. Too vast the scale on which our life is built If the Immortal prove an empty dream — If virtues, graces, are not what they seem., And men, in shrinking from the sense of guilt. Are haunted only — if the night is filled With phantom tensors, and, while daylight teems With images of beauty, yet the gleams Of glory are like players' tinsel, gilt On some fantastic surface. If the Christ Was, like the rest, an evanescent shade Who came and mocked us, never rose again. And made a show of being sacrificed, And all in vain — then, trifled with, betrayed, Who are so wretched as the sons of men ? III. BATTLING IT OUT WITH DEATH. We live this life of ours in eager haste, Not recking how we spend oui'selves, or how The laws of life our labours disallow, Ou.r substance undei^going constant Avaste 166 Voices of Douht and other Poems. By cleatli fleet-footed from oui- birtli-hour chased ; And, as the furroAvs deepen on the brow, The ebb of life is stronger than the flow. Onr very food is only waste replaced : Men die, and other creatures ninst be born : This sums the meaning of our pi-esent frame. From first to last at deadly feud with death. But there shall rise on man another morn, When each immortal, changed and yet the same, Shall live by other means than mortal breath. IV. INSTINCT WITH LIFE. The soul of life that animates the frame The Stagirite distinguish 'd fi-om the rest Of man ; but the mysterious interest That centres in oui- beins," and our name Would leave us with a riddle still unguess'd. If this were all. A life that puts to shame These Aveak beginnings, and whose eager quest Of things divine no alien voice shall blame. The spirit longs foi', and that life remains. Sonnets on the Resurrection. 167 A keener insight, ■\^dcle^■ range of tlionglit Will mate with organs knowing not decay : There living feeds the life, nor labour drains The fount of being ; none sink over-A^TOught. 'Tis Life indeed — not keeping Death at bay. V. THE LAST ENEMY DESTROYED. To Him alone belongs the victory Whose undisputed banner Avaves o'er all ; And thou, Death, though thou hast spread thy pall On many dead, must doff thy crown ; for He Has ta'en thy sceptre, and thy slaves are free. Tliy reign so long had lasted ! But thy tkrall Is broken now : low at His feet they fall Who dreaded thee, and all their terrors flee. Sin, with its poison'd sting, at last is slain ; That horror, too, is gone : a better day Is dawning on the world thou deemedst thine. He has nnclasp'd the cruel grip of pain : The foes of good are worsted in the fi*ay : None question now the reign of Love Divine. 168 Voices of Doubt and other Poems. dlifi^t ^i]d tl\e Cliildi^ei). 1. jU^tE saw tlie cliildren's silken tresses, He saAV tlie motlier's fond caresses : He noted how the children smiling Can charm the old with their beguiling, And throuo-h the home the child-love stealing Can quicken all the tides of feeling. 2. The dull disciples, hardly knowning The fount of love in Jesus flowing, Rebuked the women for their boldness, But they, unmoved b}' all this coldness. Were still unto the Saviour pressing To ask for even babes a blessing. Christ and the Children. 169 3. With benediction on them looking-, No Avord He spake of stern rebnkino-, Bnt made the blessed revelation, That in the Kingdom of Salvation The children often see the clearest, And clear-eyed sonls to Him are dearest. 4. They see the Father's face, and alway Their rippling laughter, like some sweet lay, Comes up before Him, and He heareth, Nor man nor angel interfereth. And, when a mother's love beseecheth 'Tis He to her His secret teacheth. 5. When scholars find their learning failing, And -wise men wisdom unavailing To clear away the dai'kness falling Upon their faith, their will enthralling. Some pure young soul may be the angel To bi'ing them back a lost evangel. 170 Voices of Doubt and other Poems. 6. To men who tliink too niiicli, Religion Seems like an iindiscover'd re"-ion, Sncla questionings and doubts have risen. They dwell within their narrow prison, And still, the twilight dim preferring. They do not trust the Guide unerring. 7. Yet through the bars the pure light streaming Will often set their spirits dreaming, And, fi-esh from God, though immature ly. The children seem to feel so purely That from a spirit- fountain drinking. They teach the better way of thinking. 8. We see them, simple and confiding, Within the Fold of Christ abiding & There men that are the Kingdom seeking Are taught to see the spirit speaking Through which Avill grow the power of seeing The hidden things beneath our being. Christ and the Children. 171 9. In nianliood, many things deceiving- May bonnd the I'ange of onr believing, But childhood trusts the intuition That tells us of our true position. And, turning from the doubter, I'ather Clings to the guidance of the Father. 10. And so, despite the stern restriction Imposed by men. His benediction He gave to childi-en to Him crying : In life He l^lessed them, and in dying. And every Christlike soul rejoices To hear the happy childish voices. ^gU.c 172 Voices of Douht and other Foems. ^li^tQi' 11) tlie gick f^ooni. ^)^^Z^ITH a blessed welcoming- Comes to all, the breath of spring. Odours wafted on the breeze, Singing bii'ds among the trees, Opening petals of the flowers Sprinkled Avith refreshing showers — All the bravery of dress Robing Nature's loveliness, Through the casement you may see In your chamber though you be. Draw the curtains ; raise the blind : On the wdndow-seat reclined. Thought can wander at its will, While the quicken'd senses thrill. Fleecy clouds their shadows throw : Spirit-like, they come and go, Easter in the Sick Eoom. 173 Hiding, gliding everywhere : Witchery is in the air. Nature, sleeping long, has now Cast the veil fi'om off her brow. There is sweetness in her breath : Full of life, she triumpheth, Clad in gi-aceful fair array. And she bids ns not delay Welcome to her, nor to brood In a dreary Winter mood On the gloomy season past, I«[ow that Spring has come at last. Open now the casement wide. All things keep their Eastertide : Morning, breaking into smiles, Loneliness itself beguiles. And the magic of her spell Makes the sick folk almost well. Ills may come to troiible joy. Death the fullest life destroy : Pain the tender heai't may wi-ing. 174 Voices of Douht and other Poems. But, the Winter past, the Spring- In a way mysterious Will most snrely come to us. So, in this beatitude Musing in prophetic mood, Souls uplifted in desire Find the moving' scene inspire Expectations of a bliss Vaster, moi'o pi-ofound than this. There are sweeter things than these Borne tipon the passing breeze. Flowers there are that do not fade, Light that need not seek the shade ; And the beauty of the earth Fairer in its second bii'th, Like a dream of ])x\ve delight Rising from the lap of Night Will renew upon the sense More than Eden's innocence. Death is but a sleep, and then Comes the Eastertide again. Sonnets. 175 Hoi]i|et^. TIMES OF TRANSFIGURATION". s^^APPY tlie moments when the foot can climb Up from the vale, to reach some Hermon height Where forms celestial, robed in purest white, Bend o'er us, and with their discourse sublime Lift us above our thoughts of common time. The ghostl}^ fears that haunt the livelong night Pass from us then, and standing in the light, The soai'ing high aspirings of our prime Are all outstript. For ever we would stay In that exalted mood, nor turn again To servile tasks, and all the strivings mean That drag to earth the glowing thoughts of men. The light may fade, the scene grow cold and grey,. But that is ours for aye which once hath been. 176 Voices of Doubt and other Poems. H ART AND NATURE. HE artist loves the woi-ld, l^ut not amiss : He makes no idol of it, but liis eyes Droop as it Avere in reverent surprise, Like one beset by heavenly inysteries Who feels, but cannot understand the bliss That bathes his being, and by instinct ti'ies To clothe in life-like forms his dim surinise Of some fair world yet lovelier than this. He walks as one in an enchanted scene Where graces flit about among the trees Round which tlie fondling creepei'S cling and twine. His is the wondrous borderland between The sense and spirit -world, and there he sees The skirts, half vanish'd, of some Form divine. EARTHLY STRAINS. HERE is too much of sweetness in the son<>' : The overladen air is faint : there rise Upon the sense fair dreams of Paradise, Blisses of earth, but infinitely long ; Sonnets. 177 And sounds and scenes upon the fancy tlirong Full of enchantment to the gazer's eyes, Lulling the soul to sleep ; and the true prize Is missed because dull Sense hath led us wrong. The Kingdom of the Blessed that we seek Comes not by dreaming of the beautiful, But through the girding of the soul to good, The rebel flesh constraining by Christ's rule. The pure in heart, the valiant, and the meek Alone attain to that beatitude. SHALL THERE BE NO MORE SEA? ^HALL there be no more Sea? The lovely bride Whose glad embrace has kept Earth's youth so green, Making each morning sweeter than yestreen — Is she at last to perish from his side ? Yea, shall there be nor ebb nor flow of tide ? Shall " laughter of the waves " be no more seen ? Nor Niffht reflect the face of Heaven serene ? Nor far-off ships, by eager eyes descried, Bring gladness to the weary heai-ts of men ? 178 Voices of BouU and other Poems. Nor song of Ocean, with its low refrain, Come like strayed music fi'om another sphere ? A Sea that knoAvs not death will come ao'ain And in its song no boding notes of fear. Or wail of grief, will fall npon the ear. BODY AND MIND. ^RH^OW quick, how subtle, and how delicate The movements of the body and the soul, By which tAvo natures blend into one whole ! The speech for which the thought is all too great The face is almost able to translate : The nerves, responsive to the mind's control,. Quick to perceive the harmonies that roll In linked notes of music, palpitate In ecstasy of joy. The plastic hand, A rare and perfect instrument, can mould And shape the fleeting fancies of the brain Till teeming thoughts to forms of sense expand - And kindling eyes groAV bright as they behold Some pictured scene upon the sunlit plain. Sonnets. 179 ON THE MOUNTAIN. 3l^ERE, on the mountain top, the air is free : Gronc are the sounds that break the calm repose Of thought — the mingling voices, and the blows Of craftsmen at their toil. The silver sea Is seen afar, and faintly shrub and tree Show yonder where the eddying streamlet flows. Here we have left behind the earthly shows : Here breathes an air of awe and mystery, As if the Soul of all our life were near. Far, far away may earthly passions rave, As rave the storms upon the shingly beach : Here all is calm : who cannot worship here Is out of time with Nature, like a slave Whose torpid soul no solemn thing can reach. THEY SHALL SEE GOD. *HY Being, Lord, is like a shoreless Sea: 3 No storm-clouds break, no terror- speaking sound Doth there the trembling voyager astound. In the embrace of Thine immensity M 2 180 Voices of Douht and other Poeins. All creature forms, all living things that be In safety shelter. Man, a king discrowned — His transient glory smitten to the ground — Seeketh his being's sum and end in Thee. Thou speakest not in thunder or the gale, Not in the forest murmur, or the low Soft mystic sighing of the evening breeze, BiTt One who is Thy Son hath come, with pale Sad face, to show us Thee, and make us know A love diviner than mere Nature sees. THEY UNDERSTOOD NOT THAT SAYING. 'HEY understood not, though He spake so plain: There was a kingly sorrow in His speech That moved them strangely, making them beseech He would no more ; for, as He spake, a pain As of some discord in a joyous strain Smote sharp upon the sense, and each to each Looked wistfully, as if they could not reach The meaning of that sorrcnvful refrain. A suffering King ! The thought was far too high Sonnets. 181 For tliem to hold. So aye start back in feai' The common herd, when the heroic soul Conceives some purpose in a great career Which may demand that he shall even die — His eye intent upon a mystic goal. AIMINGS AT COMMUNION". jjIp^ULL many things to sweeten life are here, The social round, and poetry and song. Glances of love, and in the festive throng Is much that captivates the eye and ear — The smile, the welcome, and the words of cheer. Gay are the scenes of light, and love is strong, And art, that ministers to all, is long. But souls cry out for contact yet more near : We need communion that shall reach the core Of real being, and can freely share The spirit- struggles that are out of sight, Then on the wings of Meditation soar, Anticipating regions yet more fair, And scenes of joy suffused with holier light. 182 Voices of Douht and other Poems. THE LAST HYMN. 'HE song of faith tliat falls upon tlie ear Of tliem that die is full of sweetness. Then The thousrht arises — " Nevermore ao^ain *' Shall voices that were pleasant to me here ■" Discourse their music ! " Soon a rising tear Gathers beneath those dying lids, and when The last farewell is said, a true Amen Requires a heart from loves of earth made clear, Or faith so strong that, looking through the mist Of death, it can discern a time when all Who here have partner'd in life's wealth of good Shall mingle in a greater festival, And, with a sense of new beatitude, rind that earth's ties last longer than they wist. St, Ilary Magdalene in the Garden. 183 0t. Mkry >ragelkler|e ii\ tl\e G^afdei\. ^O sweet it is, altlioiigli so strange, To hear the tender tones again That move the deepest heart of men ! And yet there is a sense of change. For something that she cannot tell Bids her in brooding thought prepare To part, and in the trembhng air Are soft suggestions of farewell. And through the quiv'ring leaves there stirs A breath that is not of the earth, A joy more fall of awe than mirth. Unto His Father and to hers The Lord she loves will soon be gone — Ah, let her make the most of this The last of all her memories ! Yet will her faithful love live on. 184 Voices of Douht and other Poems. In every 2:)lace wliere He liath been There will He seem to hover still, And words of His her spirit thrill, And faith discern Him, though unseen. The branches of the Living Vine Tor His dear sake her hands will tend Till Earth and Heaven seem to blend, And human souls become her shrine. There, toiling on the dusty way, She still will see the bleeding feet. And each sad pilgrim will repeat His bitter cross, from day to day. Still Avill her love on errands run To souls that are in evil case : She knows so well His tender errace. And she will bring them, one by one. To know the sweetness of that life Which all, by faith, may live in him, Though seeing may be sometimes dim. And then will Passion cease its strife, And love survive without its pain, For often that unchanging Friend St. Mary Magdalene in the Garden. 185 His messages of peace will send, And loss give place to greater gain. She slowly leai^nt the truth, but well : When self within her wholly died The love that death had purified Grew, and the earthly idols fell. So long on waves of anguish toss'd, No more she sought him at the tomb : Her wealth of love had wider room : The Christ regained she never lost. The Resurrection, when it came, Transfigured all the former things : For mortal love would fold its wings. And life grows coloiirless and tame, If, at the close, the silent grave Ends all, and there shall never rise The blessed, with their tearless eyes. To claim again the love they gave. So He who came again to bless One woman who had loved Him much, Though He forbade her trembling touchy 186 Voices of Boult and other Poems. Sootlies mourners in tlieir worst distress. He tells us of a life so deep That death is swallowed up in it, And on its bosom infinite Repose the souls that fell asleep. He came again, and they will come In all the freshness of their youth, • To teH us what life is in truth ; And voices that so Ions' were dumb Will speak, but in the angel tongue. When those that have been parted meet Their tones will seem nioi-e pui'ely sweet Than those b}^ pain so often wrung. r^^^ir Tliis Man continueth ever. 187 ¥l)i^^ Mcii) coi]tii]iietl) evei'.* 1. JjlpROM age to age the Priests of old, In incense and in sacrifice And rites of washings manifold, Kept bright the light of waiting eyes, But since they knew not Him to come, And all their hope was dashed Avith feai-, In signs were asking, like the dumb, That God would make His meaning clear. 2. As each High Priest prolonged his course, His eye grew dim. His vigour waned. And men remarked his lessened force, And how chill age his life's blood di'ained, * Ee-writteu. 188 Voices of Bouht and other Poems. Until one day, nnclotlied of strengtli, Unrobed — no symbol on liis breast — • He lay, a poor dead priest : at length No more in death than all the rest. 3. Then others came and passed away, Bvit handed on the priestly chain, And priesthood struggled with deca}', And mystic rite with mortal pain, Till One appeard and took His place To celebrate a greater Rite, In whom there dwelt a holier grace — A man, and yet the world's true Light. 4. And that High Priest will never die ! Himself both Priest and Lamb of God, He drew the gaze of every eye When He poured forth His OAvn life's blood. For ever He continueth. And with Him all for whom He died, For He who triumphed over death Our hope of hfe lias justified. This Man contiimefh ecer. 189 •5. The former priests in dunib-sliow all Performed their sacrificial i-ite : Each year a solemn interval Withdrew them from the people's sight. Mere mortal men, they came and went, And none the purpose clearly saw Of Avhat the images had meant In that pi-eparatory Law. 6. But He stands ever in our view. The One atonement for our sin, Our Sacrifice and High Priest too. A Temple He has built within Each soul that He has won from death. N"o dumb-show now, but words of fire For veiled sign, clear light of faith, And certain hope for long desii-e. 190 Voices of Doubt and other Poeiois. ¥lie ^oiv^ of ¥liui\dei^. I. St. JAMES THE GREAT. [St. Clement of Alexandria relates concerniug St. James's Martyrdom, that the prosecutor was so moved by wituessiug his bold coufession, that he declared himself a Christian on the spot. Accused and acciiser were therefore hurried off tog-ether, and on the road the latter begged St. James to grant him his forgiveness ; after a moment's hesitation, the Apostle kissed him, saying, "Peace be to thee!" and they were beheaded together. — The Rev. F. Meyrtcfc.l ►tWT was the di^eam of poor Salome's pride In that new order of His Kingly state To see her sons in office hj His side, Distinguished by their place among the great. But He was pitiful, and gently brake To that proud mother sad and startling news. Who not for glory, but for love's dear sake Have left their all, may yet be called to choose The way of pain, to prove their service true : " Yea, ye shall drink indeed my cup of woe — " What if ye find it bitter as ivith rue ? The Sons of Thunder. 191 " Yoitrselves, and what ye asn; ye do not kno2V." But in the end tliey knew His meaning well : The high heroic temper of their faith Upheld them, and the}- bade a glad farewell To golden hopes, and followed Him to death. True Sons of Thunder, when the tempest rose, Then did their eloquence that scathed like fire Whate'er it touched, break forth upon their foes, And startle ^vith the splendour of its ire. Yet not in conflict only did the Twain "Win for themselves their chaplet of renown : ""] Their love grew stronger, sanctified^by_pain, And cast their high imaginations down. Weaned from their childish visions of delight, They bent their brows, prepared to bear the worst, And found it easy, with the Cross in sight : One suffered longest, and the other first. The years were few the elder brother had To bear his valiant ^^dtness for the truth Which no vagary of the fancy clad 192 Voices of Douht and other Poems. In false encliantment, as in dreaming youth. The voice that, on the Sea of Galilee, Had found the kindred feeling in his soul, And made him toiler on a greatqr sea. Still held him with a magical control. In daily converse with the life unseen, A sweeter and more gracious temper grew : His past, and all the things that once had been. Faith taught his chasten'd sense to I'ead anew. His eye of fire grew soft in tenderness. As if, through looking always on the Face Of Him who died. His gracious piteousness Had on the very features left its trace. As when with groanings inarticulate, Emotion pants for speech, and failing words, In some recess of thought reverberate The tones that touch our nature's finest chords Of mystic voices, but so far away That nothing passes through the gate of sense But dim half- meanings of a melody Whose subtle and unearthly influence Has somehow sought and found a listening soul, The Sons of Thunder. 193 The compass of his being is enlarged. As one who presses to a nobler goal, With greater meaning now his life is charged. His soaring aims have ta'en a wider range : There is a look of Heaven in His eye As if His purpose never now can change, And Christ is All, to live for Him or die. So fell that mystic music on his ear : Sufficient for the day the daily toil, But daylight passes, and the end draws near. The dust of earth his naked feet might soil, And subtle inward sin pollute his thought ; But there was cleansing : He who on the Mount Had changed the nature of the men He taught Still bathes the soul in waters from His fount. " Yea, ye shall drink,'" the Master once had said. And now, but changed in tone, the promise came, Not sadly, like a message from the dead, But Avith a voice of power that owned the claim This ardent soul had urged, that he might stand The closest, when the hour oi danger neared : 194 Voices of Doubt and other Poevis. Though all had perish'd that ambition plann'd, This hope, transfigured, was the more endeared. The scene is changed : no honours tempt him on ; Who follows Christ must put to pain and grief His selfish will : the Cross precedes the Throne, Yet will the servant stand beside the Chief. No shouts exulting and no ringing cheer Of warring men proclaim that victory Is close at hand ; but ever in his ear There sound the sad appeals of Calvary. And as, in battle, madden'd by his grief, Some hapless soldiei' casts himself away. And death, the one effectual relief. Embraces in the thickest of the fray — So, di'iven on, wherever danger lies This soldier of the Cross elects to stand, And, whei'e the fight is fiercest, only sighs To hear One Voice more clearly in command. But there are watchings, when the air is still And sickly with some heavy influence, As if a dim presentiment of ill The Sons of TJmnder. 195 Had warned the spirit through the startled sense. All danger lies not in the scene without : There is the proud revolting will, the sin That so besets the best, the restless doubt : The foes that are the worst are those within. Alas ! so slowly Self consents to die ! Revenge is sweet : to suffer and forgfive. And to be wronged, yet pass it calmly by — This, to the proud, high-souled, and sensitive, Remains the critical and final test, And failure here, in some unwatchful hour, Has been the subtle peril of the best : The flesh is weak, but grace will give him power. So when there came the crisis of his fate, Within the very shadow of the grave, How love can quell the persecutor's hate One other proof the dying mai^tyr gave. For, standing at proud Herod's judgment seat, He showed that gi-eater mastery of grace That softens ^vrath, and makes the bitter sweet ; And when they saw the patience in his face. And lieai'd liim say that Christ was more than all N 2 196 Voices of DoiM and other Poems. Tlie world to them who own Him sovereign Lord, And that the recreant from His gracious call Who shi'ank and shndder'd at the threatened sword Were base indeed — the whole assembly thrilled With admiration, and a solemn awe Possessed them, and the savage shouts were stilled ; For here was one who owned a higliei- law. But as they led him to his martyrdom A strange thing chanced ; for now he saAv, in tears, The man who was his late accuser come, Protesting that through all the coming years He could not know one hour of true-heart peace ; Then, gi-owing bolder, thougli with trembling breath. And clinging to the doomed Apostle's knees. He prayed his pardon, and avowed his faith. " Coidd he forgive .?" He looked, and softly mused. Bethought him of the lost that love must seek. Then touched with tenderness that spirit bru^ised, Spake peace, and stoop'd and kissed his cheek. Together they confessed One Christ, One Lord, Together then their dying witness sealed, The Sons of Thunder. 197 Together bent their neck beneath the sword. : But death has balm, soon all their wonnds were healed. So near in heart this proud fierce man had grown To Him, the gentle Master, who had passed Through keener pain than his, to reach His Throne, Yet, ere He went, a look forgiving cast On one long wander'd from His Father's fold, Who saw the pit}* in His gracious eyes. And turned to Him, and gladdened to be told That he should see Him in His Paradise. The young disciple's sanguine eye had seen The promised glories of Messiah's reign. The sky, once black with storms, had grown serene, And there, outspreading wide upon the plain, A host with banners floating in the air. Or now the scene had changed. The Prince of Peace With them who served would all His honours shai-e. And then the wrongs, the ills of life, would cease. So soon that visionary scene had fled ! He saw the stain upon a bleeding heart : He saw the drooping of the Sacred Head, 198 Voices of Doubt and other Poenis. Yet, fired, with purer zeal, the closer press'd To One whose royalty seemed greater now, Since He abideth ever who was slain. He saw the glory round the thorn-crowned brow, And panted still to follow in His train. Attracted most by that undying love Which prayed the Father to forgive His foes. The days are dark, but in yon sky above The clouds are breaking, and the glory grows : The voice that calls him bids him gather in One other soul. They climb the rugged steep, And brothers now, soon pass beyond the din To where the Lord doth give His loved ones sleep. Beyond the cries, beyond the mocking scorn. Their union Jesu's love had made so sure So die the dreams of earth, and so ai-e born The visions of a glory yet more pure. IT. St. JOHN. The links of sweetness in the common life Of Christ's disciples, subtle, tender, sad, The Sons of Thunder. 199 We can discern beyond the scenes of strife That scare the sense. For One had made them glad With joy ineffable : it reached so deep That there were no reserves of feeling now. In tears they sowed, but by-and-by would reap Their harvest, thovigh as yet they knew not how. An insight sensitive and delicate So passed from one into the other's soul That they were one : they could not separate The elements that made that perfect whole. Their friendship had been fondled into strength By all that proves men, and through trial grew That nobler form of friendship which at length Showed that their Lord had fashioned it anew. For self died out of it, and each friend passed Into the other's life. To climb alone To glory, or alone to bear the blast Of persecution, was a thing unknown To their new way of looking upon life. So Peter bore his brother on his heart : " Ah, would he suffer by the cruel knife ? "And wliich true brother would the first depart ?" 200 Voices of Doubt and other Poems. He cried — " Dear Lord, and ivhat shall this man do ?' Yet shrank perhaps, and wished the words unsaid, Such terror might be forced upon his view. " Nay, ivhat is that to thee ? If, long delayed, " I hid him tarry till I come again, " Let thine endeavour he to folloiv Me. " Be thojt, content with that, nor ask Me when, " Or ivhere, or how, thy brothers end shall 5e." The best beloved had to tarry long. To see his comrades falling, one bj one, To stand a lonely man, amid a throng Who marr'd the work of good in faith begun — To pine, a captive on a rocky isle. The ocean round him, where he could not hear One kindly human voice that might beguile His desolation with its words of cheer — And, when restored to action, with dismay To see the growth of error in the Church, The pride of intellect, and the decay. Through eager too irreverent research. Of simple faith in some, and in the best The Hons of Thnnder. 201 Too much of the ambition of the sage ; To toil and still to toil, and long for rest, And yet be kept expectant in an age No longer gloi-ious with the siinrise glow Of holy love and self- consuming zeal—. His strong and tender nature lived to know All this. He coiild have better borne the steel That sought his life ; but patiently he stood, Though dansrer loomed, and storms were in the skies. He bore the pain of seeing doctrines crude Polluting the pure well of truth, — surmise For faith, — a wisdom that was not of God Diffusing vaguely a dissolving view That, ever changing, seemed to spread abroad A visionary semblance of the true. The future that the Master would not tell Has now receded to the past. The mind Of that disciple, like a sentinel, Kept still its watch, to either fate resigned, To challenge error, and defend his post. He pointed to the Star whose silver light 202 Voices of Donht and other Poems. Reclaims the ti'aveller when almost lost, Its liquid i-adiance flowing on the way By which belated travellers may find The home they long for, though gone far asti'ay — The home for which, despairing, they have pined. And other men he stationed in the dark To stand as angels with their pnre white wings, To guard the mystei-ies within the Ai'k, And sometimes seize the harp, and touch the strings, To wake the heart of all the Church to praise. There, hardly veiled, he saw behind the screen An awful Presence and a searching gaze. And warned them aye to keep the soul so clean, And fill the years so full of fruits of good That they might stand accepted in the day When all the dark things shall be understood. Though, like a scroll, the earth shall pass away, The deeds are living, and will reappear, And things forgotten stai't into the light With aspect menacing — so warned the seer. His message to the Churches, read aright. The Sons of Thunder. 203 Is like a legacy to every age. The man who lay ujjon the Saviour's breast Has left it for us : as we turn the page, "We see what foes the earthly Church infest. We ask ourselves if even such as we May cleanse oui- robes from all then- stains of sin, — If these dull eyes may yet the glory see, And, from the outer darkness, enter in. To him the earth was eloquent with speech : The roll of thunder, and the flashing fire, The angry billows breaking on tlie beach Shrieked notes of discord thi-ough his wondrous lyre. But all that is most sweet and musical And thrilling to the sense in mortal song When consecrated to the Lord of All, He heard repeated in the angel tongue. Like to "the many waters" falls upon his ear The voice of Him who holdeth in His hand The stars of light : across the glassy sea On yonder shore the Avhite-robed harpers stand. And in his vision rises through the mist 204 Voices of Do7ibt and other Foems. A world where all the tears are wiped away, A city fair with pearl and amethyst, Where purest robes the citizens array. There evil vainly struggles with its fate : At last eternal voices sound its knell, Good only lives, and love has vanquish'd hate, And in its deep have j^erished Death and Hell. But o'er the mystic scene there sweeps an air That has a Iji-eath of sweetness, as of earth : The earth that was has gone, and yet more fair A new glad life is hasting to the birth. As from a lyi-e hung high to catch the breeze, That yields its sweetness to the wooing air, The notes of gladness in the strain increase : The changeful melody subsides in prayer. His twilight lingered, as the evening glow Fades by gradations that no eye can trace, Yet dies at last, and Night, with footstep slow And softly stealing, shadows every face. But when or where his spirit passed away — If they who loved him gathered round his bed, The Sons of Thunder. 205 Uplield his soul, and, at his close of day, Sang softly masses for the happy dead — All this we know not ; but we know full well His holy fervour, in the waning light When night was coming, ei-e the curtain fell. His strength was broken, but his eye was bright, As he discoursed of love, his only theme. The foaming torrent of his eloquence Had now subsided to a gentler stream : The nearer to the end, the more intense His ardent gaze upon the coming bliss "Where God no more doth cover up His face. But all shall see Him truly as He is. And, musing on this mystery of grace, There brake from him the passionate desire — " come, Lord Jesu, let there be an end !" The guest belov'd was called to come up higher — Again wei'e joined the Master and the friend. A mart}T some have called him — not "in deed" But ^^et " in will."' And who can better claim Than the belov'd disciple, that great meed — 206 Voices of Douht and other Poems. Who, knowing not the niart}T:''s public shame, Was martyr'd. all his lifelong, suffering Such intermingling elements of grief To nature, and to stedfast faith, as wring The heart too noble to seek base relief ? Each day full many an aching heart endures A martyi-dom like this. The growing pain That vibrates on through life, death only cures. Till Christ shall come, such martyrs will remain ! ^fiWc, Commemoration in the Eucharist. 207 doii|rqeii|Oi'ktior| ir\ tl\e 5