LIBRARY I UNIVERSITY OF ^CALIFORNIA HOURS OF INSIGHT. 25 Copies printed for Presentation. HOURS OF INSIGHT. BY MILES MIDWINTER. "tasks in hours of insight -wiU'd" MATTHEW ARNOLD. LONDON 1890. LOAN STACK RICHARD CLAY AND SONS, LIMITED, LONDON AND BUNGAY. CONTENTS. PARK LOVE AND DEATH i IN ARTICULO MORTIS 13 THE MYSTERY OF PAIN 16 A SONG IN THE NIGHT 21 WITHOUT AND WITHIN 27 THE SLEEP OF THE BELOVED 34 CHARITY 38 HELP FOR THE HELPLESS 42 THE PRAISE OF QUIETNESS 47 ON AN ANNIVERSARY SERMON 50 BE THANKFUL 51 THE SEVEN JOYS OF CHRISTMAS 54 ALONE ; YET NOT ALONE 57 RICHES LAID UP ON EARTH , 59 POST MORTEM 60 To A CROSS-BEARER . 61 AT THE ORATORY, BIRMINGHAM 63 SELF-RENUNCIATION 66 PENANCE 68 539 PAGE THE FLOWER WHICH MAKES THE SPRING. (From the French,} 69 To A CHILD GATHERING WILD FLOWERS 73 To A DAUGHTER WITH A FRUIT KNIFE 75 MULTUM IN PARVO 76 SELF-HELP 79 IN THE GUEST-CHAMBER 81 A SONG BY THE WAY 85 THE BLACKBIRD. (From the French) 87 " SOCIETY IN 18 " 89 THE VICTORIES OF VICE 90 APPEARANCE AND REALITY 92 PROVERBS ii. 16 93 EPIGRAMS 94 AN ODE TO CHARITY 95 AT GUERNSEY 108 IN Loco PARENTIS 109 To THE DODDER 113 AN INVOCATION TO THE EARTH 114 A DEVOUT SUPPLICATION 117 REFUSING TO BE COMFORTED 120 FROM GRIEF TO GLADNESS 124 THE HEAVENLY HOME 129 THE DEBT OF LOVE 132 DEATH AND LIFE 137 vi Srsus saifi, ESfjat fotlt tfjou tljat C sfjoultj Ho unto tijec? Ctjr blinti man saiU unto |i?im, tfjat J: migfjt rrcribr mg sigfjt. Hobe ant) "Dcatl). An Interpretation of the Painting, so entitled, by G. F. WATTS, ESQ., R.A., And a Sequel suggested by it. NAY, Death ! forbear ! forbear ! Force not an entrance there Where Love would bar the way, Entreating thee to stay Thy dread advance ; relent ; Relinquish thine intent. Strive not with Love, young Love, An eagle 'gainst a dove ; Match not thy giant might Against that stripling slight : No sling hath he, nor stone Wherewith to lay thee prone, No arrows now to threat Thee with condign defeat. All powerless he stands, Except for pleading hands, And fond entreating eyes, And plaintive sobbing cries. He cannot stop thy way If thou must needs to-day That House of Life invade, Its inmate to degrade. But, oh ! wilt thou not heed The tears, the prayers that plead ? Wilt thou no pity show, In prospect of such woe As hovers round the bed Of the untimely dead, When Love is left alone To make its piteous moan ? Wilt thou not heed the joy Of this enraptured boy, Who here such bliss has known, In yielding of his own, And finding kindred love, As only souls can prove ; In mutual embrace, While in some happy place Where Joy's own roses spring About the house to cling, And with their fragrant bloom Irradiate life's gloom They dwell in rich content, Fearful for no event ? And see, how mere a boy This Love thou dost annoy ; How brief his dwelling there ; How small is yet his share Of that supreme delight, Which promised to requite His eager anxious quest, With ages of glad rest Beside that gracious one Whom he had made his own, When, in the plighted troth Of fervid tender youth, They to each other sware Enduring bonds to share. Oh ! think how mere a boy, And how his utmost joy Is childlike, immature, Feeble and pale and poor, Wanting in perfect speech, Waiting for Time to teach The breadth, length, depth, and height Of that supreme delight Which is life's choicest dower, And source of chiefest power. Manhood alone attains Love's gladdest goodliest gains ; And wilt thou not delay To snatch this form away, Till Love to manhood grown Can make its wealth his own, Persistently explore Its utmost hidden store Of tenderness and truth Denied to fondest youth ? And think, yet once again, How much may yet remain Within Love's heart of fire Of unconsumed desire To minister and bless With rapturous caress, With counsel wisely weigh'd, With service duly paid In patience and in zeal, As ever do the leal In deepest purpose burn, And fondest longing yearn, To yield and to impart, To the one cherish'd heart, Whate'er they may possess Of good and graciousness, Whate'er they may command By skill, or toil of hand, Whate'er they may aspire By effort to acquire, Till deeds shall fully prove How true their words of love. Would'st thou, O Death, deprive The richest soul alive Of such prospective gain, Such bliss in heart and brain, Such fellowship of joy, Such help for high employ, Such means of growth and grace- As lurk in Love's embrace ? Alas ! all pleas are vain Death's purpose to restrain ; He presseth on and in, To claim as his own kin Nearer to him allied Than husband is to bride, Than mother to her son, Or any fondest one Can to another be In mere mortality To claim, against all other, As sister and as brother, Heirs with him of the grave, All, all whom Love would save. Ah ! Love what woe is thine ! Thus at thy sacred shrine Defeated, thwarted, foil'd, ' Dishonour'd and despoil'd, Robb'd of the chosen one, Left utterly alone No vision of delight To gladden thy fond sight No gracious footfall near To yield thee any cheer No - hand that thou may'st press With tender soft caress, No tuneful tender tone For loving antiphone Nought, nought but emptiness, Darkness, and deep distress. But, oh ! abate thy fear, Nor linger sadly here ; Sit not in anguish down To make unfruitful moan ; Abide not in the place Which witnesses disgrace ; Assuage thy poignant woe, Avenge thee on thy foe. Lo ! wings are thine to fly, Go ! follow where they hie Death and thy lost Delight Speed thou, and track their flight. Too quickly thou shalt come Unto the darksome tomb, Where Death will hide away That tenement of clay Which was so fondly fair It seem'd beyond compare, Ideal in its grace Of movement, form, and face ; Worthy to be exempt From Death's supreme contempt ; Most worthy to abide A thing of joy and pride, Of worship and of praise For endless nights and days. Within that dreadful tomb Impenetrable gloom Shall fill thee with dismay, And wailing thou shalt say Alas ! must I now here Part me from all that's dear ? My quest so soon achieved, So hopelessly deceived ? No vision, and no voice To bid me yet rejoice ? Here then will I lie down, Here cast away my crown, And yield my fervid breath To Sorrow and to Death. S Then in that darkest hour The voice of Sovereign Power Shall steal into thy heart, And still its fever'd smart, With some such words of cheer As on my inner ear Once fell, and now re-told May serve to make thee bold " Delay not by this prison, She is not here, but risen : The casket, richly wrought, Was yet more richly fraught The house of fair design Had tenant more divine. He who the casket stole Got not its treasure soul ; Or ere the house fell down Its spirit-guest had flown. " Replume thy wings, arise ! Take flight to yon fair skies, And where the shining portal Admits each glad immortal, Press thou within, and claim, In virtue of My Name, To be assured that there- Exempt from every care, Ennobled with high place And perfected in grace, Fulfill'd with utmost joy In loving glad employ, And safe from chance of ill Thy well-beloved doth dwell. " Then too may'st thou discern, If grace be thine to learn, How Love, bereav'd on earth, Attains to peace, yea ! mirth, Drawn forth, drawn up on high- As waters to the sky From out the deep salt sea More pure, more blest to be : To seek and ante-date Its high immortal state : To live within the scope Of beatific hope : To gain some grateful measure Of that eternal treasure Which to the poor is wealth, And to the suffering health : 10 To count all things but loss, Mere burden, hindrance, dross, Which do not help the soul To reach its glorious goal, And rise to the full stature Of its immortal nature. " Thence to thy house return To sorrow, yet to yearn, And hopefully to watch, Till he shall lift thy latch, Who then shall name thy name, And thy submission claim, Working his vengeful will On that which he can kill, And hurrying away, From light of living day, Thy manly form and frame To charnel-house of shame. " Fear not in that dread hour ! Mine is the greater power ; In Me thou shalt have life, And, far from earthly strife, In mansions long prepared, ii Bliss shall be found, and shared With all the good and true Honoured and loved by you To which in turn shall come All who are left to roam The wilderness of Time, Desiring that fair clime Where sin and sorrow cease In sanctity and peace ; Where love attains its hope In full unfetter'd scope ; Where joy new strength acquires, And never fails nor tires ; Where life, with blest repose, Ampler and nobler grows ; And those grand heights are gain'd To which the best have strain'd, Who found not here their rest, But ever onward prest, By inward faith assured Of good to be secured, When, in the World of Light, Faith shall be lost in sight." Jftortfe. NAY ! come not here to weep, Dear friends who hold me dear, Not till I fall asleep Indulge " fond nature's " tear ; Make now no loud lament, Give not your sorrow voice, Nay ! teach me to repent, And help me to rejoice. What ! mean ye still to weep, To weep and break my heart ? Since I my tryst to keep With Christ from you must part : Your love has been indeed A wonderful delight, Yet must it not impede My spirit's happy flight. 13 My heart would break e'en now In this eventful hour, If heaven should allow The clouds of grief to lour ; If now the sense of loss Possess'd my trembling soul, How could I calmly cross Death's river to life's goal ? Nay ! weep not, nor distress My spirit I implore, Not that I love you less, But Christ supremely more : I breathe one last adieu ! Take one more last embrace, And turn my gaze from you To His transcendent face. Now summon Faith and Hope, Call hither blithe-heart Joy, With this last hour to cope All gracious powers employ ; Bid them rehearse some strain Prophetic of the peace Which ransom'd souls attain When mortal conflicts cease. Speed ye your parting guest With promises of cheer ; Inspire this anxious breast With thoughts of Him most dear ! Whose welcome and " well-done " I weary now to gain The prize for which I run, The mark towards which I strain. fftpterj) of $am. WHY should a mortal man complain When tortured with exhausting pain ? Why murmur at his little share Of all the ills that flesh must bear ? Must bear ! ah, yes ! there lies the strain, For why this heritage of pain, This " common lot " of weary woe Which all, without exception, know ? If it were clear that pain were sent As Heaven's indignant punishment For sin, or sins, then who woulol dare To murmur at his little share ? Much less if a Divine intent Of kindly skilful chastisement Ordain'd the pang, could any then 16 Excuse themselves as mortal men, And claim to be exempt from pain ; For none the thesis can sustain That any man is free from blame, Free from the need of honest shame, Incapable of higher good. Could that be clearly understood, And did the suffering smite the sin, And leave no lurking doubt within As to its aim, could we conclude This thing or that, this or that mood, Has griev'd or justly anger'd Heaven, And lo ! its sure decisive leven Reveals it, and rebukes at once The unmistakable offence That were conclusive, that were gain Worth any medicable pain. Full welcome then the sudden smart Which tutor'd a forgetful heart ; Welcome the throes which spoil'd our ease But warn'd us of a deep disease ; And welcome too the lingering pain Which taught us to uncoil the chain Wherewith sin subtly binds the soul, And fetters fast its self-control. Not always, and not often thus Does pain in mercy visit us Not as a righteous judge to whom Tis given to decide our doom, Denounce our doings, and declare The penalty we needs must bear, Who in our follies and our flaws Offend 'gainst Heaven's eternal laws. Not as a prophet to reveal Our fault, and make us deeply feel Its guilt, its shame, its misery, Outweighing all our agony ; And still denouncing till we yearn For healthier truer life, and turn With full intent of heart and mind The means of such a life to find Repent, renounce our evil deeds, And, whilst the heart with anguish bleeds, Direct our steps into the way Wherefrom in sin they went astray. Not always, and not often thus Does pain in mercy visit us Not as a good physician comes To sadden, yet make glad, our homes 18 To trace the cause in the effect, Say " This avoid, and that reject : Your malady shall do you good If, now its source is understood, You practise abstinence, and school Your conduct by a wiser rule." Not always, and not often thus, Does pain in mercy visit us Alike its cause and its design We strive but vainly to assign ; Or if the cause we chance to find It is not in the heart or mind : No moral blame, no want of wit Is found to have occasion'd it ; Some spice of venom in the air Touch'd us and took us unaware ; Some latent mischief in the blood Developed by unwholesome food ; Some accident beyond control How then shall these instruct the soul ? Alas ! too often they but vex The soul they puzzle and perplex We murmur at the useless trial Which calls for weary self-denial We fret and peevishly complain 19 C 2 When rack'd and torn with poignant pain We petulantly groan and sigh When dull disease works languidly. Yet why should mortal man complain When pinion'd by affliction's chain ? A mortal man at least should know One meaning in such form of woe : A mortal man who needs must die Yet feels not his mortality, Who glows with life in heart and brain Which soon shall freeze and fail again, Who strides the earth and dwells at ease Though soon his little reign shall cease, Who gathers grain and goods and gold In hands which ere long shall be cold To such an one pain should not be A meaningless calamity : It speaketh with a friend's kind voice E'en though it sayeth not rejoice ! Its wounds are faithful, and its word Of timely warning should be heard, Like that grim monitor of old Who daily to his monarch told " Remember thou art mortal man " So pain shall serve Heaven's gracious plan. Song in t&e Jitgfjt T k OO often in health The pride as of wealth Is lavish of life's golden store, And, spendthrifts of time, We but sing to the chime, Which rings out when day is no more. Ah ! could we but prove That the labour of love In the spirit of faith had been wrought, And all the grim strife Of militant life With weapons of righteousness fought ; 21 Could Hope make her boast That on Heaven's calm coast Her anchor still firmly endured, And Joy lift her eye To the starry lit sky And feel herself thither allured ; Oh ! rich then and strong The rapturous song The carol, the choral of praise With which at day's close We might welcome repose, Reviewing our works and our ways. But sitting at ease, Nor seeking to please Our neighbour, each one, for his good, And mid the stern strife Of death's struggle with life Indulging a dissolute mood ; Whilst Love lies asleep, And Faith and Hope keep Dull watch in the gloom by her side We vex the sad earth With echoes of mirth, And Heaven by our song is defied. 22 Lo ! languor and pain Teach a truthfuller strain And music more justly attuned ; Out of weakness made strong We learn a new song, As blossoms the tree which is pruned. A sweet solemn plaint, Soft, tremulous, faint, Flows forth from the spirit subdued, Not joy now but grief Gives the heart its relief, And by sorrow the soul is renewed. Life seen in review Discloses anew Its vanity, listlessness, sin : In prospect beheld Its worth is revealed, And we pant all its triumphs to win. In sadness we own The days and years flown Occasions we fain would recall ; Our joys we renounce, Our doings denounce, And to blot them tears streamingly fall. 23 Again the song swells From the heart's inmost cells, And now in more passionate tone A song of desire, Of words which aspire To rise to the Heavenly Throne. " O Thou, who, most High In Thy glory, art nigh To all who invoke Thy great Name, Incline now Thine ear My trouble to hear, And grant me the blessings I claim. " I humbly repent For time much mis-spent, And treasure too squander'd or hid ; Thou gavest me store, Therewith to make more, And I did not the thing I was bid. " I cannot to-day The talents repay Which Thou to my care did'st entrust Alas ! for my soul, Thieves brake through and stole, And some are corrupted with rust. 24 " Lord, wilt Thou forego The debt which I owe, And freely my trespass forgive ? Yea ! wilt Thou also- New blessings bestow, And grant me Thy servant to live ? "Vouchsafe me, good Lord, Thy pardoning word 4 Thy sins I forgive, go in peace ' My spirit renew, And daily endue My soul with all gifts of increase. " Should self-love and sloth E'er make me feel loth To the task which Thy purpose demands. Soon, soon, may I hear Thine accents of fear Rebuking my profitless hands. "The wisdom I need For word and for deed Do Thou from Thy fulness impart ; Sweet charity's glow Joy mingled with woe Oh ! keep this alive in my heart. 25 " And for work to be done, And victories won Where sin holds dominion abhorr'd, Alone, or with those Who are sin's leagued foes, May I go in the strength of the Lord. " So may all my days Be fill'd with 7hy praise, And fruitful of good to mankind, And life's last * good night ' Be a thing of delight, With no vain regrets left behind." Without. BEHOLD ! O man I stand Without the door, and knock, Stretch forth a willing hand And turn the heavy lock ; I would come in and sup With thee, and thou with Me, Partake thy bitter cup, And with My love feast thee. Within. Nay, Lord, I cannot dare That Thou should'st come within, Thou could'st not, must not share This devil's cup of sin ; And I, how could I taste The supper Thou would'st spread ? 4 ' It is not meet to waste On dogs the children's bread." 27 Without. Ah ! foolish and unwise, Think not My love to spurn, Nor with perverse replies Me from thy door to turn ; Long-suffering I sought, Long-lingering I plead, That sinners may be brought My patient love to heed. Within. Yea ! Lord, I know Thy love, Too well Thy love I know, That love despised must prove My everlasting woe ; My heart hath made her choice Of these forbidden things, She hears, she knows Thy voice, But to her lust she clings. Without. Is it indeed so true Thy heart hath made her choice ? And can she witness too That so she doth rejoice ? Doth she with full consent Embrace her chosen good ? And with entire content Indulge her wilful mood ? Within. Content ? ah ! no, that word Filleth my heart with dole, Sharp as a two-edg'd sword It pierces through my soul ; It dissipates my peace And fills me with alarm ; Cease, Lord, Thy troubling, cease To work me so much harm. Without. How shall I cease to chide, Or leave thee to thy smart, Since thou, in foolish pride, Dost flatter thy fond heart That peace may then return, And soothe thee with content ? Thou dost but vainly yearn Believe Me, and repent. Within. Shall peace return no more ? Must I thus dwell alone ? Thou standing at the door, I making bitter moan, And sighing for content Which cannot enter in ? Why, Lord, dost Thou prevent The pleasant peace of sin ? Without. Peace ? peace ? there is no peace For sinners in their sin, A false delusive ease Is all that they may win ; An opiate that distils Peace through the sinner's veins, Kills slowly, surely kills, E'en though it ease his pains. Within. Leave me then, now, this boon, This restful medicine, Though death must come full soon I cannot quit my sin ; I cannot now forego The life which now I live, I cannot hope to know The life that Thou would'st give. Without. Yea ! now, in this same hour, If thou wilt do My word, Thou shalt find all My power Within thy spirit stirr'd ; Rise, thou shalt be made whole, And fill'd with rich increase, New life shall thrill thy soul And yield thee perfect peace. Within. Now ? now ? by that same sign I put Thee, Lord, to proof, The word is Thine, not mine, Enter beneath my roof : Come in, come in, but, oh ! Forgive Thy servant, Lord, That he has been so slow To trust Thy gracious word. Without. 'Tis done ; I all forgive, And freely enter in Beneath thy roof to live, And share thy shame of sin. Take thou and eat this bread For thee it has been broken Drink, and lift up thy head, This wine is My love-token. Within. Truly ! this wine makes glad, This bread gives strength of heart, Lord, I was wholly mad In bidding Thee depart : Now give me evermore This bread, this wine of love, So will I Thee adore, And Thy disciple prove. 33 D of tfje A rejoinder to "The Sleep" by Mrs. E. B. BROWNING. 1 sweetly thought and sweetly said This verse which o'er the happy dead Forbids surviving friends to weep ; Yet this was not the psalmist's thought, Whose " music deep " first clearly taught " He giveth His beloved sleep." " The sleep of death," as fact and phrase, Was sadly known in those far days, And wrought into men's spirits deep : Till in their agony they pray'd, And " lighten Thou our eyes " they said, " Lest we the sleep of death shall sleep." 34 Death was for them a thing of dread, They wail'd for the untimely dead As for the sun gone down by day, And those who reach'd " a good old age " Found record in the sacred page As none were happier than they. Life was to them a gracious boon, They revell'd in it as, at noon, The sun rejoices in its sway ; Its purpose and its power they knew, And with devotion strong and true They work'd whilst it was call'd to-day. No weary loathing of the light, No listless longing for the night Unnerv'd their healthful energies, They rose up early, sat up late, Loved life, and toil'd in their estate, Intent on opportunities. O'ermuch they toil'd, they stinted rest, Keen apprehensions fill'd their breast, They ate the bread of carefulness ; A man's own labour must afford, They thought, his only sure reward, And so they fail'd from prayerfulness : 35 D 2 From prayerfulness and calm repose On Him who all His creatures knows, As the Good Shepherd knows His sheep ; Then spake that voice, which echoes yet, Reproving restlessness and fret " He giveth His beloved sleep." 'Tis now as then, and we as they Too anxiously prolong the day, Too eagerly both sow and reap, Regarding not the living Lord, And heeding not the living word " He giveth His beloved sleep." A gracious word for toiling men Wearied in hand and heart and brain, Yet gaining not the gold they need It suffers them a while to rest, It bids them slumber, and be blest By Him who doth the ravens feed. Not carking care, not ceaseless toil Quickens the seed within the soil, Nor must the sower watchful keep He sows, the Harvest Lord ordains The former and the latter rains, And "giveth His beloved sleep." 36 And when with sheaves the reapers come Rejoicing at the harvest-home, Exulting in the grain they heap, What truer thought can thrill their tongue Than this which Israel's psalmist sung " He giveth His beloved sleep " ? For He who trustful Israel keeps Behold ! He slumbers not nor sleeps, Nor intermits His watchfulness ; He wakes whilst tired eyelids close, He works whilst labourers repose So are they filled with plenteousness. Oh ! for such sleep to seal our eyes And own our evening sacrifice, Whilst hearts distrustful watch and weep ; From toil and care to find release, Hush'd by His whisper'd blessing" Peace ! " Who "giveth His beloved sleep." 37 As presented in a picture by BRITON RivifcRE, ESQ., R.A. T is not meet to take the children's bread And cast it to the dogs," the Master said ; Should then the children give their bread away To starving dogs, what would He thereto say ? I would that He could look upon this group To picture which high art has dared to stoop, And that His gracious utterance could declare The wealth of tender teaching that lurks there. A wintry scene snow lying on the ground, An ,old church door, a thin Italian hound, A mongrel cur, and girl whose piteous plight Has won compassion in some Christian's sight. 38 Homeless and destitute and poorly clad, Barefoot, bareheaded, starved and cold and sad, She through the pitiless December air Has wandered up and down, scarce heeding where. One kindly eye at length has glimpsed her form, One helpful heart with fellow-feeling warm, Has thrilled with sympathetic touch of chill, Then hastened its kind office to fulfil. Hunger, most urgent need, must be appeased, And with no second thought a loaf is seized, Divided, and a portion gladly given, With love which works therein like a new leaven. Fed, clothed, and warmed, in feeling, by this act, The wanderer keeps her little store intact Until she finds a shelter and a seat Where with repose her banquet she may eat. An old church porch invites her to its gloom The narrow step affords her ample room There she will sit and take her heaven-sent meal, And there with thanks to heaven in spirit kneel. 39 The silent grace scarce rendered, and the food As yet untouched which looks so very good ; Two homeless dogs come shivering to her seat, And pause, and whine, and all but lick her feet. More fortunate than she their hairy coats Defend them from the frost, but their pinched throats, Lank limbs, lean loins, and sad expressive eyes Denote them sharers in want's miseries. A mute appeal is all that they can make, But, ah ! to those who have endured heart-ache What more is needed than a silent plea, What words more irresistible could be ? She sees their state, their eager strong desire, And thinking not how she may yet require Each precious crumb, she breaks the bread, and gives- Her very flesh the food by which she lives. Could now the Master look upon that scene, And could His voice its gracious teaching glean, What would He find and what reveal to us ? Might He not haply point its moral thus ; 40 This damsel hath herein a good work wrought, And wheresoever charity is taught There let this deed that she hath done be told To kindly love in hearts unkindly cold : To kindle love e'en to the humble brute So helpless and so weak when destitute, So patient, so long-suffering, so resigned, So utterly dependent on mankind. To kindle love towards those helpless poor Who needs must beg their bread from door to door, Who, poor in goods, are ofttimes rich in grace, The outcasts, yet the chosen of the race. To kindle love to Me from whom was caught The inspiration of this generous thought, Who gave Myself the Bread of Life to be, That all of woman born might live through Me. for ttje J 1 ' /^ OD help him ! " I exclaim'd, at sight of one VJT Who saw not me, his vision quite foredone Sight's hapless organs one obscure eyeball One eyeless socket, whence did freely fall, As from full founts, continuous hot tears And he a boy, a child of tender years. " God help him ! " Only so could I express Instinctive sense of my own helplessness And his, and of all possible human aid, To mitigate the load upon him laid, To guide his wilder'd footsteps, or to make More clear, more smooth, the path that he must take. " God help him ! " Ah ! but wherefore did not He Lend and send help while yet the boy could see ? When first disease assail'd the tender frame, Could He behold and not arrest the flame Which burn'd so fiercely, until all was dark Save in the embers, life's faint fitful spark ? Could He behold ? or is He also blind To all the countless ills of humankind ? Discerning not mute uncomplaining woe ? Beholding not lorn sufferers laid low ? Blind to all sights which fill men's eyes with tears ? Hopelessly blind through all the lingering years ? If blind then deaf perchance ! and all in vain The poor dumb sufferer would to Him complain, In vain appeal with utmost stress of prayer ; Who heareth not, nor sees, how can He care ? Yea ! all in vain " God help him " I exclaim, My pity, my concern, fly with false aim. Yet can it be that He nor sees nor hears He who hath given to man both eyes and ears ? Or may it be that seeing hearing all Who mutely agonise or faintly call For help and succour, He is prompt to aid, And that His angels are opposed and stayed ? 43 Opposed and stayed even by human sin, Which lets them not their kindly victories win ; Which knows them not, and heeds not when they speak, And yields them not the assistance that they seek ; Which in its heartlessness and want of skill Witholds relief, and frustrates Heaven's goodwill ? Yea ! thus it is, and man may not accuse His Maker, may not think Him to refuse His sympathy, His aid from suffering men, Nor when they call, nor when they pine, nor when As will befall in fits of wild despair Him they blaspheme, and all His terrors dare. Divinest will has need of human skill And love and zeal its purpose to fulfil " Whom shall We send, and who for Us will go ? " So speaks the Holy One at sight of woe, And waits the eager heart, the ready hand, To do the bidding of His high command. Much more, His Spirit pleads and strives to move The souls of men with sympathetic love Love for their fellows as for brother men, Love like the Father's for His dear children, Love passionate and merciful and wise, And prompt withal to apply swift remedies. 44 So man may not escape the shame and blame Of ills which desolate the human frame ; May not escape the charge which lays on him Responsibility for life and limb : May not with unconcern regard their lot Whose sufferings seem to say God hath forgot. Nay ! every thrill of anguish which the sight Or dread of evil, be it grave or slight, Inflicts upon the heart nay ! every fear Which claims the tribute of a sigh or tear, Is God's own voice commanding Pity and Love To waken and arise their skill to prove. To obey that summons truly is to be With God a fellow-worker, and if He Finds so efficient help He will not fail To make it serve His purpose, and avail For such defect as nature's limits leave Open to Him to frustrate or relieve. Therefore " God help him " was not a vain cry When face to face with that calamity ; So Pity stirr'd and waken'd Love, and she, Lamenting much her lack of remedy, Did what she could, and what she had she gave, To make the sufferer patient, calm, and brave. 45 The help was God's ; the helper only one By whom His kindly will was gladly done, Nor shall the helpless fail of life-long aid If every heart by God's good angels sway'd Yields to the impulse, and does what it can To nerve the boy and fortify the man. And little would remain on this fair earth To mar the music of man's mortal mirth, If men, compassionate of human needs, Were prompt to yield the fruitage of good deeds, To minister with kindness and with skill Nature's sure remedies for every ill. Little : and less if men, considerate Of all the insidious risks of human fate, Stood on the alert, with open eye and hand, Ready the approach of mischief to withstand, To see and to avert the impending blow, To check and counteract the subtle foe. God speed the day when Love in every heart Shall wait prepared to play her instant part, Full arm'd with knowledge shall be skill'd to ply Her weapons, and all enemies defy ; Yielding alone to the exactor Death The tardy tribute of man's forfeit breath. Braise oC 4uietne$0. With a copy of "The Memorials of a Quiet Life." " Study to be quiet." ST. PAUL. ^^^ ONE living poet, now too long Neglectful of his gracious art, Is dower'd with a quiet heart Which pulsates in most placid song. 1 Mid Bacchanalian noise, and rush Of multitudes in eager strife, He finds but weariness in life, And sighs for " quiet " and for " hush." And so in many a tender tone He breathes a longing half despair For quiet living, free from care, And with calm joys suffus'd alone. 1 Matthew Arnold, then unhappily diverted to other work. 47 But shall there not a bard arise To render service more complete, And with rich strains, more full, more sweet, Enkindle all men's sympathies ? Till Quietness, invoked by all, Shall everywhere her gifts diffuse, Refresh the earth with gentle dews, And on man's life like showers fall To soothe wild passions, and allay The wasting fever and the fret Of hot desire and keen regret, Which wear the heart's delight away ? Awaiting that triumphant strain, Glad greeting be the homage due Wherewith we hail the happy few In whom blest Quietness doth reign. Nor least to her whose lovely life, Depicted in these pages, shows From morning's prime to evening's close, A heart unvex'd by foolish strife. 48 Such charm pervades the truthful page As well the reader's heart may move To seek the grace whose virtues prove So constant to inconstant age. And thus from out the book may grow New lives possess'd of perfect peace, Which in their turn shall yield increase, And bring the bard we long to know. 49 On an anmbersaqj Sermon. A PLATFORM speech ! all points and platitudes, Amen to which had fitly been a cheer Of rough applause, with bravo ! and hear, hear ! From straining throats of eager multitudes. Was it for this the minster's ample calm Was from the outer eager world shut in ? Ah ! no, not thus should echo worldly din Here where men meet for prayer and peaceful psalm. Rather we long for his persuasive speech Whose doctrine dropped as rain, as dew distill'd ; So might the church's empty aisles be fill'd, And not in vain her teachers stand and teach : Then might the Spirit's gracious fruits abound, And in God's vineyard no wild grapes be found. (Communion Service.) SIMPLE words of exhortation ! Yet how truly they express All the weight of obligation Laid on those who Christ confess. " Take and eat this bread, thus broken, In remembrance of thy Lord, Sacred and appointed token Of His death for thee endured. " In thy heart too, with thanksgiving, Feed on Him, the Living Bread, Gladly knowing and believing He is risen from the dead. 5' B 2 " Drink this wine, the awful semblance Of Christ's blood poured forth for thee, And with tender sad remembrance Of His dying, thankful be. " Thankful with deep silent feeling And with whispered words of love, As, before the table kneeling, Heart and soul His kindness prove. " Thankful with profound emotion Going hence in peace and joy, Thankful with entire devotion Of thy life to His employ. " Thankfulness sustained shall mould thee To the image of His grace, And its joyous strength uphold thee Ifc* the onward heavenward race. " Thankfulness thy load shall lighten Journeying in toilsome ways, Thankfulness thy prospect brighten In life's dark and wintry days." 52 Thus the words of exhortation Spake within my heart one day As, in act of dedication, Low I kneel'd to praise and pray. Now again in spirit kneeling Praise and prayer inspire my song, And, O Christ, to Thee appealing, I beseech Thee make me strong. Praise I give Thee for the kindness Which instructs me truth to know, Opes mine ears, relieves my blindness, Teaches gratitude to flow. And with eager supplication, Lord, I ask that Thou wilt give Energy of consecration., And enable me to live. So to live as that my living Harmonized in all its ways Like a strain of rich thanksgiving Shall reverberate Thy praise. 53 of A Carol. first good joy that Christians have JL In keeping Christmas-day, Is that the Father sent His Son To put all sin away ; To put all sin away, good Lord ! Then happy may we be, Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, To all eternity. The next good joy that Christians have, No greater joy they can, Is that the eternal Son of God Became the Son of Man : Became the Son of Man, good Lord ! &c., &c. 54 The next good joy that Christians have Upon the Christmas morn, Is that the Saviour, Jesus Christ, As at this time was born : As at this time was born, good Lord 1 &c., &c. The next good joy that Christians have Is in the angel's word, " Good tidings of great joy I bring Of Christ which is the Lord " : Of Christ which is the Lord, good Lord ! &c., &c. The next good joy that Christians have Is in the angels' mirth, " All glory be to God on high, Peace and goodwill on earth " : Peace and goodwill on earth, good Lord ! &c., &c. The next good joy that Christians have Is with the shepherds shared ; Who in the manger found the Babe And all His praise declared : And all His praise declared, good Lord I &c., &c. 55 The next good joy that Christians have Is with the Mother mild, Who kept and pondered in her heart All that concerned her Child : All that concerned her Child, good Lord ! Then happy may we be, Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, To all eternity. &lone; jut not John xvi. 32. "\ 7E shall be scattered each one to his own, JL And I in suffering shall be left alone : Yet am I not alone, for still with Me Abides the Father My sure help to be." So to His friends and followers Christ spake, Preparing His last trial to undertake : Then to the Father, for whose love He yearn'd, With supplications and with tears He turn'd. Like loneliness attends all human fate, Some hour befalls which leaves us desolate, Some sudden stroke, some blow severe descends And puts away our lovers and our friends. 57 In that lone hour one Presence lingers near, One Friend to whom the friendless are most dear, He whom Messiah as " The Father " knew, To know Him near in such extreme distress Alleviates the cup of bitterness, For He partakes thereof, and bids us sup With Him from out love's sacramental cup. And in His fellowship sweet wondrous thought As children by a father fondly taught, Learning both love and lore, we come to know Such joy and wisdom as no tongue can show. Turn we to Him in every trial hour, When storm clouds break as when they do but lour, Then through the gloom His face will quickly shine And on our darkness shed a light divine. lafo up on CALL it not wealth ! 'tis poverty, yea ! worse, - Though riches shower down like summer rain, And gold accumulates like ripened grain, It is a sore affliction and a curse, If to the harvesting go forth alone Greed, Avarice, Luxury, the fields to reap, And in their glutted garners high to heap The utmost gleanings. Merely to have and own Can this be wealth ? It serves no gracious end : There is no gain of goodness, kindness, love, No growth of generosity to prove The heart enlarged. What doth it but distend The purse, augment the pride, inflate the lust, And all the soul corrode with wasting rust ? 59 jttottetn. OH ! that the man whose death a will discovers Had in his day a living will display'd, Dispensing with an open hand kind aid ! Then had he made all generous men his lovers. The few who profit now are thankless debtors ; Gifts from dead hands awake no living love, The clutch is loosed, yet no impulsions move, The fingers but relax at Death's cold fetters. They kept till they no longer could retain The wealth which far surpass'd its owner's need, Serving no use but to delight his greed, And gratify his appetite for gain. Who now will bless him ? Who that will not weep, Since Death extorts what life was spent to keep ? 60 tf . %4Ta BY the cross upon thy breast, Maiden ! sin appears confest, &M& For a badge of shame, not pride, Is that cross whereon Christ died. By the cross upon thy breast May thy trust too be exprest, Trust in Jesus who alone Could thereby for sin atone. By the cross upon thy breast, I beseech thee do thy best, Do thy best before the world As beneath Christ's flag unfurl'd 61 By the cross upon thy breast May no evil thee molest, But cower and shrink dismayVl At that sacred sign display'd. Wearing, bearing that sad sign Of man's enmity malign, That blest sign of dying love, Oh ! strive thou thy love to prove. Counting all things else but loss Cling for ever to the cross, And, with Jesus crucified, Glory thou in nought beside. Taking thus Christ's easy yoke, All thy stubborn self-will broke, Learn of Him the meek, the lowly, Him the patient, perfect, holy. Then when labouring and o'erladen, Wayworn, weak, and weary, maiden ! Thou shalt find in Him sweet rest, As His cross upon thy breast. 62 &t tfje Oratotg, ISirmtngfiam. 1 THOUGHT to hear that rich electric voice Which once from Oxford thrill'd throughout the land, Then did this hope make my keen heart rejoice, And for the occasion eagerly I plann'd. I journeyed far, and sought " the house of prayer " Intent to treasure up his lightest word, But, though " the old man eloquent " was there, No faintest accent from his lips I heard. I mark'd his stalwart form, his snow-white head, His strong bold features, and his gracious mien, Feeling the while Religion there had shed Its sweetest soothing, and its purest sheen. 63 I look'd that he should mount the pulpit-stair And plead for God, for truth, for righteousness, But, oh ! mischance, the Bishop's pastoral care Provided for my hope a Jacob's mess. Yet, though I heard not the august old man, I did not wholly miss my cherish' d aim, My strong emotions to his footstool ran, And paid their homage to his noble fame. It seemed to me, St. Philip, whom he loves, The "old man of meek aspect," whom he admires, Not all unmindful of his worship proves, Not quite regardless of his pure desires. " Oh, sainted Philip, look on us that we Thy loveliness may copy here " he pray'd, And Philip with a saint's prompt sympathy Vouchsafed the suppliant his generous aid. No, no, not Philip, but "the Living Word," "The Brightness Increate," "the Sinless One," Adored and magnified as Philip's Lord, Jesu reveals this grace to " Philip's son." 64 Oh ! happy soul whose worship is thus true, Reaching the mark though devious its course, 'Twas not in vain I sat and gazed on you, The look inspired me with a heavenly force. As thou with Philip, I with thee aspire, With both I join in one supreme accord, And pray, with threefold fervour of desire, Christ-like to be in aspect, deed, and word. NOTE. The various quotations are from the poems "ST. PHILIP IN HIMSELF" and "ST. PHILIP IN HIS GOD" in Verses on -various Occasions by Cardinal Newman. Self'Henunciation. NOT what I am, but what I aim to be, That, O my God ! do Thou consider me, And in Thy grace regard each pure desire, And all the hopes which unto Thee aspire. Not what I am, but what I aim to be ; Not held and hindered by infirmity, But stout of heart, and resolute of will Unwearyingly Thy precepts to fulfil. Not what I am, but what I aim to be ; Not yielding to the world's captivity, Not Fashion's slave, nor Custom's abject thrall, But ever ready to obey Thy call. 66 Not what I am, but what I aim to be ; Not bound by sin, but set for ever free, Not held in bondage by taskmasters stern, But swift to run as diligent to learn. Not what I am, but what I aim to be ; Not as corrupted by iniquity, But as, in truth, loathing the taint of sin, And striving ever to be pure within. Not what I am, but what I aim to be ; Like to Thy Son in all sincerity, Within my heart the glow of filial love, And in my life the deeds Thou wilt approve. Not what I am, but what I aim to be, That, O my God ! do Thou confirm in me ; Complete the work Thy Spirit has begun, And make my aims and my attainments one. Not what I am, but what I aim to be, That, O my God ! do Thou consider me, Regarding not the evil I have done, But justifying me in Thy dear Son. 67 F 2 penance. NOT this that, I myself may mercy find And be absolved from all my guiltiness ; Not for reprieve from judgment and duress Justly to evil deeds by Heaven assigned ; Not for escape from penalty and pain Due to transgression, do I make my prayer, With utmost urgency and deepest care, When at the Father's footstool I complain : But that the evil done be brought to nought, Not germinate, and grow, as noxious weed, Replenishing the earth with baneful seed And that the souls on which I may have wrought With hurtful influence may be endued With Heavenly grace, and savingly renewed. 6S JUotoer toljicf) mate tfje Spring. From the French of THEOPHILE GAUTIER. SOON the chestnut trees will bloom On the terrace of St. John, Whence afar in grandeur loom Mountains blue with silver crown. Even now the leaves burst through Winter's bonds of yesterday, And their gracious pale green hue On the tender branch display. But in vai^r i;he sun yet shines, And the sap awakened flows ; On dull boughs the flower declines Its white spear-heads to disclose. 69 Notwithstanding this the peach Reddens with the blush of youth, And the apple, frank of speech, Blossoms like the tongue of truth. E'en veronica makes bold Won by nature's wooings bland To put forth its heads of gold In the meadows near at hand. I must speedily return To the region where I live, Chestnuts hasten, let me learn All the charm you have to give. Need is none you should be shy, Safely may you grace the fete, O'er you shines an azure sky, And May soon assumes her state. Of your pity grant this joy To the poet in his grief, Ere he goes your skill employ To afford him some relief. 70 Noble chestnuts, if you hide Brighter charms for summer days, Oh ! to me the grace confide Which precedes those full displays. Well I know your rich attire When October preens his wing Purple robes as warm as fire, Gold crowns worthy of a king. I have seen your branches white Wrought with curious designs, Which the frost portrays by night On the silvered window panes. I know all your stately splendour Giant, ancient, chestnut trees, But your Spring shoots, freshly tender, And sweet scents, I know not these. Fare-ye-well ! I quit your bower, Guard ye all your brilliant bloom, In mine eyes another flower Yields alone the Spring's perfume. Offerings choice let May prepare, This one flower suffices me, Honey pure is always there For my soul, and for the bee. Let the sky be blue or black, Be the season dry or wet, Never doth the household lack One fair fragrant Violet. 72 Co a OEirito flattering ATHER ye wild flowers while ye may, V_T Now in your young life's holiday Hyacinth, primrose, and hawthorn spray. Happy the flowers which meet your eye And are plucked your desire to gratify, Though soon in your hands they fade and die Wither and die and are cast away, While yet in the woods their companions gay Flourish and bloom for many a day. Happier these in their early death Yielding to you their expiring breath, Hearing from you what sweet Pity saith. Happier in quitting their native wild, Because on their beauty your own has smiled, And your innocence been by theirs beguiled. 73 What flower a happier fate could know Than thus of its true worth to show To eyes, to hearts which prize it so ? What flower ? what being ? for thus we live, As each to each of our best we give, And each from each some bliss receive. Thus only we live ; and thus to die And pass to our immortality May this be the lot, Sweet ! of you and I. Then gather ye wild flowers while ye may, Now in your young life's holiday, And let not their lessons quite fade away. 74 ^o a Baugf)ter, toitf) a jFrtuVfcnife. THE gift of a fruit-knife implies this good wish ^t^ May the Future provide you with many a dish Of the sweet and the juicy, the ripe and the red, Along with the daily allowance of bread. The fruits you like best may these ever abound As year after year their seasons come round, And the years not be few which shall leave you on earth Enjoying their blessings with sound-hearted mirth. One caution permit me, as duly you go Midst the trees of the garden of life to and fro, Pluck not of the fruit that's forbidden, lest, madam, You prove a false Eve to some foolish fond Adam. 75 Jttultum In IN little much to find Is Wisdom's highest art, All other skill resigned, This is her chosen part From things that are despised and mean, An unguessed store of good to glean. She hoards not useless wealth For solitary joy, The little that by stealth Finds merciful employ, Yields her a blessing as it goes, And back again in blessing flows. She loves not wide demesnes Wherein to make her home, 76 Fairer to her than scenes Through which the lordly roam, The nook where sweet Content abides, Where Patience serves, and Love provides. She needs not many loves To make a blissful life, With one true lord she proves A single-hearted wife ; And in their dual unity Finds life's most rich community. She asks not many books To fortify her mind, With calm clear eyes she looks Around to seek and find Lessons to serve her daily need, Inspire her thought, direct her deed. She wants not many years To lend to life its worth, Her gracious gift endears Her children from their birth, By whom, in short time perfected, She is supremely justified. 77 In little much to find Is wit's prerogative : So, reader ! may thy mind To these vague musings give An application and a scope Beyond their utmost aim and hope. ^"** O, help yourself, and then your friends will love G you ! So did some unknown cynic phrase his wit ; And " Help yourself! " the Devil says to prove you, When for his service he would make you fit. " Ay, help yourself, for none besides will aid you ! " Cry they who have no faith in God or man ; " God for His pleasure, not your own, hath made you, And each man's aim is to get all he can." Yet are there those again, who, these disowning, Maintain the doctrine whilst to Heaven they pray, Working, yet waiting for God's gracious crowning, For " Heaven helps those who help themselves," they say. 79 And these are they who, as their gains they gather, Glow with emotions generous and true, Devoutly grateful to the great " All-Father," And eagerly intent His will to do. Self-helped, and helped of Heaven, their help they tender To all who suffer any kind of need ; Yielding themselves in gracious self-surrender, Free from all taint of grudging and of greed 80 In tfje Guest A GUEST ! I make no other claim To earthly hospitality, Nor seek by any other name To manifest my quality. A guest when first in infancy Parental welcomes greeted me, And in my sheer impotency All heedful tendance meted me. In boyhood and in youth a guest Most generously entertain'd, Made welcome ever to the best, And in reluctant moods constraint. In manhood too my claim allow'd, Or with anticipating grace Conceded by the eager crowd, Which throng'd the royal feasting-place. 81 Nor have I fail'd to learn as true The lesson taught so long ago That modest claims are oft the clue Which leads us better than we know. A welcome guest, in lowest seat I was content to sit and share ; " Friend, go up higher, 'tis not meet," Mine Host has said "to leave thee there." And so by favour of my Host I have not lack'd for daily food, His bounty has defray'd the cost, His wisdom seen that all was good. Some other guest might now and then Betray some sign of petty spleen, Deny the equal rights of men, Forgetful what himself had been ; Yield with a grudge the allotted seat, Or half usurp his neighbour's right, And hope to poison my good meat By sarcasm and studied slight. 82 Such things will be whilst Great Goodwill Keeps open hall for e'en the least, Some gluttons never get their fill, Some starving almost miss the feast. But this is not of His intent Who makes the feast, and bids the guests ; All partial practice men invent, Regardless of their Host's behests. Beshrew such greed, such graceless lust, Unmannerly regard for self, To outer darkness shall be thrust The unworthy, the inhuman elf! A guest must show himself a guest, And not disdain his Host's command ; Nor seek to lord it o'er the rest With Take this ! Leave that ! Crouch ! nay, stand ! And I, a guest content to be, Would as a guest myself demean, Grateful for hospitality Would manifest a thankful mien ! 83 G 2 Take with all thankfulness the place Assign'd me at the common board, Partake with humbly utter'd grace The portion granted by my Lord. And to my fellow guests concede Their portions and their places due, And yield to each his proper meed Old courtesy for ever new. Enhance their lot, enrich their cheer With gracious tokens of goodwill, Delight of their good luck to hear, And help their cup of joy to fill. So life shall be from first to last A bright and blissful feast of love, A long unbroken antepast Of that great feast in Heaven above. 84 Song fcg t&e LIST, list, my heart ! the merry birds are singing, Filling with music all the summer air, Catch thou the strain those messengers are bringing, Learn thou to live a life set free from care. Minstrels of Heaven, minstrels of God, Sweetly inspire us as heavenward we plod. Oft as we trudge in weakness or in sorrow, Weary with toil in body, heart, and brain, Joyless to-day, and hopeless for to-morrow, Deeply our souls are thrill'd with your sweet strain. Minstrels of Heaven, &c., &c. Early and late your music cheers our sadness, Rouses from sleep, and soothes us for repose, Wakens our souls to do life's work with gladness, Sweetly attunes to make a joyful close. Minstrels of Heaven, &c., &c. 85 Minstrels sing on, for we are still forgetful, Sing your sweet songs of trust, and joy, and love, Till we no more, distrustful, sad, and fretful, Rise on Faith's wings, and soar to realms above. Minstrels of Heaven, minstrels of God, Sweetly inspire us as heavenward we plod. 86 From the French of THEOPHILE GAUTIER. IN the tree a merry fellow Sings his song, and gaily hops, Sprucely dressed in black and yellow, Though frost rimes the garden crops. 'Tis a blackbird credulous, Knowing not the almanack, Dreams of Spring, and tremulous Hymns it amid winter's wrack. High wind blows, and rain not stints, Muddy Arve corrupts the Rhone, And the chamber, hung with chintz, Near the fire holds every one. 87 On their shoulders robes of ermine, Judge-like, all the mountains wear, As if gravely they'd determine Why the winter lingers here. Preening, drying his wet wing, In his song the bird persists, Confident of coming Spring Spite of snow and rain and mists. Loudly he upbraids the dawn For its tardiness to rise, Snaps a blossom from the lawn, Welcomes Spring in chill disguise. He foresees the last dark day, Like a saint who trusts in God Though the church be in decay, And the altar bears no rood. He in Nature's law confides By an instinct of his heart, And whoe'er that faith derides Is less wise than thou, bird, art. 88 in 18 ". " T7RIVOLITY, excitement, and display" r Are these indeed " The Season's " freest bloom ? Glaring in colour, coarse in their perfume, What charm, what virtue, and what worth have they ? Untoward season ! though thy blossoms gay Bedeck the earth, and dissipate its gloom, Fraught are they with the elements of doom, Since where they flourish men do but decay. Shall seed of these be ripened and re-sown, Gather'd and garner'd for a future Spring ? Must earth with these rank weeds be overgrown, And Nature's fairest flowers lie languishing ? Oh ! rather may the winds of Heaven make moan, And utterly uproot the accursed thing ! 89 Uictottea of IS " vice a monster of so frightful mien, As to be hated needs but to be seen, Yet seen too oft familiar with her face We first endure, then pity, then embrace " ? l To some, sometimes, that peril may befall, And dread of it the stoutest should appal, For in that lapse from hate to pity and love, Unutterable woe the soul shall prove. But many, and more or I misdeem the fact- Are won to vice by subtler craft and tact, Caught with a bait, and taken with a charm, Snared and secured before they know alarm. l The quotation is from Pope. 90 Vice masks for them her terrors with a smile, And garb'd as Virtue takes the soul with guile, Woos them, and wins, with every gracious art, And plays, to please them, many a studied part. Ah ! how entrancing Vice can then appear When she would lull Suspicion's guardian Fear ! When she would vie with Virtue, and outvie, What softness in her tone, her touch, her eye ! Then is the hour of darkness ; then the power Of direst evil ; then bad angels lour To take the soul, deep-drugg'd with vain delight, And bear it to the abyss of blackest night. Against that hour good angels all attend us ! In that dread hour, Saviour Divine, defend us ! Almighty Father, pity and befriend us, And for our help Thy Holy Spirit send us. anto l&ealitp. HER tone so tender, and her words so warm, She surely has an embassy from Love, Whose will to do, and his goodwill to prove, I needs must yield me to her radiant charm. Yet, ah ! what tremors thrill me with alarm As, 'neath her spell, to take her hand I move ? Can she, whose grace is kindred to the dove, Be as a kite to do me deadly harm ? A nearer glance reveals the subtle dread ; And now, as when some trick of dextrous art Hides a fiend's features in an angel's head, Now see I that from which aghast I start A grisly form with hideous grimace, Waiting to fold me in a fell embrace. 92 ii. 16. TRANGE women " were they who in Israel Wrought shame and folly in the days of old Strangers from heathen lands, who in God's fold Wrought havoc like the angel Azrael. And strangers ever in all lands are those Who, hating virtue, labour to entice Maidens and youths to be the slaves of vice ; In every land they are the State's worst foes. But more than all those women are most strange Aliens and outcasts from the commonwealth Of public virtue and domestic health Who life's essential order all derange, Yielding their hearts to serpents of the dust, Lending their charms for hire to heartless lust. 93 Epigrams. RITIC," they call'd him, " nothing if not critical : " And fondly fancied they had hit him there ; Said he, unhurt, if slightly enigmatical, "And is not life a critical affair?" " A blind man always gets your alms : " said one Who saw scant reason for a good deed done ; Quick flew the answer which sufficed her then " Should not our alms be given unseen of men ? " The world demands for healing Recreation ; The Great Physician writes : Regeneration. 94 &n to to or Jaritg. HAIL ! Charity benign, Most human, most divine, Supremest in thy birth Of all that visit earth, Thy primitive abode The very heart of God ; Thence by His grace sent down His handiwork to crown ; To quicken and impart To every human heart Its most ennobling force Majestic as its source ; Its most expansive heat To make each one man meet For fellowship with all ; Its power to enthrall, 95 And hold in firm embrace The universal race.- To melt and mould the will, And fit it to fulfil Stern Duty's high behests, Soft Sympathy's requests ; To train and to transform The earth-born, earth-bound worm, To lift it from the clod, And bear it up to God. Hail ! Charity divine, Once clearly seen to shine In One of mortal mould, And from His heart unfold, In words so rich and rife With elements of life, In deeds so kindly good, So laden, so endued With blessings manifold, As tongue hath never told ; Till at the last He gave, All humankind to save, That life which was His own, And freely laid it down 96 A sacrifice for sin, Redemption so to win ; And to all sinful men Of future time, as then, Ensample so to give How they should godly live. Hail ! Charity most blest, Mighty and manifest Through ages long, and strange With endless signs of change, Yet bonded into one By deep communion With thee, and bringing forth Fruits of transcendent worth ; Still in their latest strain Possess'd in every vein Of ichor heaven-distill'd, With which thy heart is fill'd. By thee the peopled earth Has been exempt from dearth Of goodwill and good deeds : Thou dids't implant the seeds Which in the souls of men Brought forth, if sometimes ten, 97 Sometimes a hundred-fold. And mighty men of old Have still their progeny In this late century ; And glorious deeds are done, And splendid trophies won, And many foes o'erthrown By thy good help alone. Hail ! Charity, great Queen ! In whom all grace is seen ; Thine is the rightful sway Which all men should obey ; Thine is the ancient throne Which all with homage own ; All trumpets sound thy fame, All plaudits shout thy name, And in thy sacred fane None breathe a thought profane. None venture to defame Thy pure exalted name ; Yet in that name of thine, O Charity divine ! What deeds are daily done Beneath the circling sun ? Self-love estranged from thee By deepest enmity ; And waxing year by year More mad in her career, More wasteful in display, More frivolously gay, More practised in deceit, More skilfully complete In wilfulness and wile, Strives ever to beguile, Reaching her lowest state In covering her hate, And simulating love To thee all else above. O Charity divine ! What bitterness is thine, When this bold jade, Self-love, Exerts herself to prove That, with thy full consent, She can such means invent To further thy designs, As shall to all be signs That Charity demands 99 H 2 No labour at their hands, No sacrificial zeal To serve the commonweal No patient self-denial To put the heart to trial. Ah ! no, her simple plan, Considerate of man, In all his weak regard For profit and reward, Provides for each and all Prizes or great or small, And does not so much ask For help in any task, As promise that all aid Shall be right well re-paid. How winning are her ways ! How suasive all she says ! " Give me whatever you can, Twill surely serve my plan. By methods manifold I can transmute to gold, Yes ! gold the most refined, All gifts of every kind. 100 " My great resource is trade Oh ! no, I'm not afraid Of any silly sneer, Which hints that I appear At counter or at bar Of Charity Bazaar A little out of place ; There's really not a trace Of vulgar talk or airs At Sales and Fancy Fairs. In our new social code Shopkeeping d la mode Ranks in the first degree 'Mong works of charity. " Give therefore, what you can, 'Twill surely serve my plan ; And of your generous aid Announcement shall be made, Which fully shall afford Well-merited reward, In complimentary phrase Of universal praise. And this of course will be A stimulus which we 101 Shall further profit by, For many friends, who try To stifle jealousies, Will come, and do likewise. Or if, as well may be, Some new commodity You wish to advertise, And yet economize, Why ! give me some to sell, I shall delight to tell How really good you are ; And it, oh ! better far Than any other sort Of which I've heard report. And all that I can say, Or do by bold display, Your interests to advance, Shall miss no obvious chance. 44 Then, too, from Charity, So popular is she, All can afford to buy : Her prices may be high, Her wares of little use, 102 Or none, but to refuse To trade with her were proof Of something in the woof Of character, not quite To be esteem'd polite. It might be hard to give, So hard it is to live, But every one will try Some souvenir to buy." This is her chief resource, But, full of verve and force, She ventures many a move Her loyalty to prove, All gratefully combined With pleasures well-designed To hit the popular taste, So that she may not waste Her zeal and her endeavour- She is so wondrous clever. These are her winning ways : And policy which pays Demonstrates beyond doubt It can't be done without. Yet, Charity divine ! Some honest friends of thine Distrust these modern means, Dislike these fever'd scenes, Misdoubt these tricks of trade, Reject this ready aid ; Prefer themselves to give According as they thrive, And would have all men so Their zeal and kindness show, Helping a worthy cause With no thought of applause ; Looking for no return Because their hearts do burn, Believing that thy will They thereby best fulfil ; And that to honour thee, With gifts both rich and free, Is best to do the word Of Christ, their King and Lord. And I, O Charity ! Who vow myself to thee For suit and service free, How can I spare to scorn \ These weaklings who suborn Unwilling witnesses And call them devotees, Who traffic in thy name For pleasure, love, and fame, And loyalty will feign For mercenary gain ? How can I .gaze on thee In raptured phantasy, Nor doubt that Thy great heart Is thrill'd with many a smart, Or that thine eyes are blind With sorrow for mankind, Deluded by this cheat, Trick'd by this counterfeit, Estranged in heart from her Whom they in name prefer, And by unworthy aims Dishonouring her high claims. Who now shall solace thee, Long-suffering Charity? Who rid Thy house of prayer Of them that traffic there ? 105 Who check this rising tide Of vanity and pride ? Who stay this plague ? Who free From this fatality Thy wide-spread family ? Be thou on the alert These evils to avert : Look on the faithful host Who, counting well the cost, Forego all mean desires Which base Self-love inspires, And seek, and strive, and pray The precept to obey As freely they receive Freely themselves to give : Look on them, and bestow Such plenteous overflow Of gifts, as shall abound For all the world around ; Exalting thy fair fame, And .putting quite to shame Deceivers and deceived ; Till thou at last received As man's most cherish'd guest 106 Shalt reign in every breast, And teach all men to know, By sympathetic glow, The length, breadth, depth, and height Of Christ's love infinite. 107 May 22, 1885. UPON the day that Victor Hugo died, I chanc'd to visit the old residence Where, through long years of exile from fair France He lived, and nursed his patriotic pride. In every room the man was manifest By curious bric-a-brac or quaint device, With some expressive motto twice or thrice, This being one Exilium vita est. Then when full soon I heard of his decease, And with all men was deeply moved to mourn, Lo ! in that word Exilium vita est, There came to me a messenger of peace, And said, " Now hath the exile glorious return, Call'd home to Him in whom all souls are blest I " 108 In Uoco To a Daughter on Coming of Age. NO ! not the fulness of my thought, Much less the fervour of my feeling, Can in this mesh of verse be caught, Or find in words a full revealing. Yet none the less my heart and mind Shall strive to gain some scant expression, For secret love is half unkind, And winged thoughts escape possession. Oft have I pondered on the theme, Theme how profound ! of love parental, Till more and more it came to seem Mysterious and sacramental. 109 Its tenderness and mighty force Are not alone the work of nature, They have a more majestic source, They own a more august dictature. They spring within the human breast Responsive to the Eternal Spirit, From whom, as from a Father blest, These gracious instincts we inherit. Signs are they to us of a care Which watches o'er us fondly yearning That we in all its bliss may share, And all its wisdom may be learning. A care, a love, a sympathy, Which sorrows with us in our sadness, Which sees each tear, and hears each sigh, And longs to change our grief to gladness. Which knows our needs, and ever seeks How best and kindliest to supply them ; Which knows our faults, and gladly speaks Their pardon when we own and fly them. 1 10 Which suffers not our sins to grow Unchasten'd, unreproved, unpunish'd ; Nor spares the rod until we know The love which graciously admonish'd. To yield to Him with childlike love, With fond yet reverent emotion, Best fits the parent's heart to prove Its claim to filial devotion. Learning of Him with patient care, And by His methods ever guided, They who parental office bear Are for their functions best provided. And to have witness'd to His Name, Most dear to men as the "All-Father," Shall be their best excuse from blame When they unto their fathers gather. These frequent thoughts recur to-day With new intensity of meaning, Since fit occasion comes to say What through long years I have been gleaning. in To say to you, who from to-day Depend no more on my sole guidance " One is your Father," Him obey Who has been my supreme reliance. " One is your Father ; " and if I At all a father's part have acted, To Him be thanks, from Him, most high, The love and wisdom were reflected. " One is your Father ; " and to Him Nearly and dearly thus related For all you have it is to Him You are eternally indebted. " One is your Father ; " evermore You owe to Him a meek subjection, Your womanhood must still adore His will who claim'd your young affection. " One is your Father ; " and to Him I fondly, finally commend you, These hands shall fail, these eyes grow dim, But He for ever can befriend you. 112 ABOUT the gorse are wound thy filaments, Blood-red, and delicate as Love might spin, If from close coils his secret heart within He should essay some fond habiliments For gift of graciousness to one most dear, Or mystic robe for one of rarest worth, Or, as may sometimes need upon this earth, Garments of gladness for a saint to wear. Yet do these tendrils wind about my heart As ocean weeds round limbs of drowned men : They are as chains which in dank darksome den Detain some victim of tyrannic art : For hands now cold in death first wound them there, First showing me how exquisite they were. &n Inboration to tljc