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 ZEK1EL& OTHER POEMS
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 rxA-i *j: . y-
 
 i 
 
 ■ 

 
 A 
 
 V
 
 EZEKIEL AND OTHER POEMS.
 
 E Z E K I E L 
 
 ^thci* ^ocms. 
 
 By B. M. 
 
 2:0 nil on: 
 
 T. NELSON AND SONS, PATERNOSTER ROW. 
 
 EDINBURGH ; AND NEW YORK. 
 
 1888.
 
 I 
 
 CgTontcnts. 
 
 u 
 
 EZEKIEL, ... 
 
 9 
 
 COMING, ... 
 
 25 
 
 THE NIGHT SERVICE, 
 
 31 
 
 THE MAN AT THE GATE, ... 
 
 38 
 
 THE HEBREW MOTHER, 
 
 44 
 
 SAVONAROLA, 
 
 58 
 
 THE SEA OF SORROW, 
 
 72 
 
 A SONG OF THE RIVER, 
 
 78 
 
 NOT FORSAKEN, 
 
 83 
 
 ONE BY ONE, 
 
 93 
 
 AMONG THE TREES, 
 
 100 
 
 THE MEETING-PLACE, 
 
 no 
 
 THE MAN OF GOD FROM JUDAU, 
 
 114 
 
 PASSING SOULS, 
 
 127 
 
 THE WELL OF BETHLEHEM, 
 
 132 
 
 BEYOND THE SHADOW, 
 
 136 
 
 god's DOOR, 
 
 141 
 
 THE CHAMBER OF PEACE, ... 
 
 148 
 
 822163
 
 VIU 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 NUMBERED WITH THE TRANSGRESSORS, 
 THROUGH THE FLOOD ON FOOT, 
 THE DYING THIEF, 
 THE SONG OF THE SEA, 
 PARTINGS, 
 
 THE KING ETERNAL, 
 OUR SAILOR LAI), ... 
 TROUBLE NOT THE MASTER, 
 THE DESIRE TO DEPART, .. 
 A PARABLE OF HOPE, 
 MY WELL, 
 
 AFTER THE BATTLE, 
 FROM DEATH TO LIFE, 
 "BEHOLD THE MAN," 
 IN MEMORIAM.— PROFESSOR MILLER, 
 THE WAKING HEART, 
 IN THE MIDST, 
 HYMN SUNG AT THE OPENING OF ALL SAINTS' CHURCH, 
 CHESTER, 
 
 153 
 158 
 
 165 
 177 
 181 
 186 
 188 
 194 
 202 
 205 
 
 223 
 226 
 235 
 239 
 243 
 
 247
 
 EZEKIEL. 
 
 ' Also tlie word of llie Lord came unto me, saying, Son of man, behold I take 
 away from thee the desire of thine eyes with a stroke; yet neither shalt 
 thou mourn nor weep, neither shall thy tears run down: forbear to cry, 
 make no mourning for tlie dead. So I spake to the people in the morning 
 and at even my wife died." 
 
 E knew my soul, He knew she was in truth 
 My heart's desire ; and I had none on earth 
 But only her. Upon my troubled life 
 She gently shone, as shineth some fair star 
 Upon tempestuous waters, as this night 
 Upon the swellings dark of Jordan shines 
 The Summer-Moon. 
 
 Until she rose on me 
 Earth had no brightness ; for when visions dread 
 Of God's unutterable glory swept 
 Before mine eyes, they left me dazzled so 
 That the sweet, common smiles of moon and sun, 
 Which gladden other men, grew faint and wan. 
 And faded in my sky, and served no more
 
 lO EZEKIEL, 
 
 To light mine exile-land. I could not grieve 
 
 That earthly things were grown so poor and dark 
 
 To eyes which had beheld the Face that shines 
 
 Beyond the Sun : I magnify His Light, 
 
 And my dread office. I would choose to see 
 
 The brightness of the heavenly things, although 
 
 Their lightning-glory leave me blind henceforth 
 
 To any earthly glow : and I would hear 
 
 But once the voice of God Almighty sweep 
 
 In thunder from His throne, although from hence 
 
 Mine ear be deaf to the sweet trembling chime 
 
 Of this world's music. I had rather stand 
 
 A Prophet of my God, with all the thrills 
 
 Of trembling, which must shake the heart of one 
 
 Who, in earth's garments, in the vesture frail 
 
 Of flesh and blood, is called to minister 
 
 As Seraphs do with fire — than bear the palm 
 
 Of any other triumph. This my joy 
 
 The Lord fulfilled. But when the door would close 
 
 In heaven, gathering all the glory in 
 
 Of sight and sound, and leaving me alone 
 
 Without the Gate to face the darkened earth, 
 
 And hear its moan, my soul would mourn to tear 
 
 Her earthly vesture, and to clothe herself 
 
 With immortality, and so to pass 
 
 Within the gates of I^ight, to stand thenceforth
 
 EZEKIEL. 1 1 
 
 x-\mong the Sons of God, and minister 
 
 Close by the burning Throne. But God, who willed 
 
 That I should tarry here a little while 
 
 In the dim outer courts, and speak His word 
 
 To many nations, sent me that one star 
 
 Of earthly love, that I might be content 
 
 To stay a while ; that I might have one sweet, 
 
 Sweet tie to earth, to hold my eager soul 
 
 A little from the heavenly things, which wooed 
 
 With burning glances, till they well-nigh drew 
 
 My spirit through the Gates. 
 
 It was a time 
 Of tumult and reproach, when God, who clothed 
 My soul with thunders, bade me utter them 
 To all the people, whether they would hear 
 Or would forbear. When I who stood between 
 An angry God and angry nations, felt 
 The shock of their dread warfare, till my soul 
 Reeled with the clangour — then she came to me, 
 Walking in white, and bearing in her hand 
 A cup of blessing. As the waters cool 
 Which flow from Lebanon, to meet the hot 
 And thirsty valleys, so she came to me ; 
 And from that day she was my heart's delight 
 And comfort for a while, a little while, — 
 Until God took her.
 
 1 2 EZEKIEL. 
 
 Oftentimes I came, 
 With burning thoughts, and with a weary heart, 
 Towards our little home at eventide, 
 After a day of conflict. Then she came 
 To meet me smiling, and mine eyes would grow 
 < Most sweetly dim, and lose the dazzling Light 
 Of things unspeakable, and only see 
 That smile instead. And she would comfort me, 
 And sit beside me while the golden sun 
 Went down in peace, and sweetly sing to me 
 Some of the songs of Zion. We were bound 
 In exile, and we could not sing when those 
 Who bound us bade us sing the sacred songs 
 Of the beloved Land : but when the hour 
 Of twilight came, when we might rest in peace 
 Alone together, while the daylight waned. 
 And the broad shadow of God's wing was spread 
 Over the exile-hearts, until we seemed 
 Once more to dwell at home, the captive maids 
 Of Israel would sing. They took their harps 
 At sunset from the willows, and the songs 
 Were strangely sweet that floated through the land, 
 Although the sound of Babel's sighing streams 
 Made mournful answer. 
 
 Thus she sang to me, 
 And at the evening-time God gave us light
 
 EZEKIEL. 13 
 
 In our poor dwelling. To her gentle eyes 
 No heavenly doors were opened, she had seen 
 No glorious visions ; yet she seemed to dwell 
 More near to God, to hold His name more dear, 
 And hail Him "Father" with a sweeter trust 
 Than I, who had beheld in visions dread 
 The billows of tempestuous glory sweep 
 Around His throne. But in those evening hours 
 By the faint starlight, while she sang to me. 
 My heart grew sweet and calm, and I could rest 
 With her in God. 
 
 i\nd she was my delight 
 And comfort for a while, a little while, 
 Until God called her. 
 
 ***** 
 " Son of man, behold, 
 I take from thee this day thine only one, 
 Thine heart's desire ! " 
 
 He met me in the way, 
 And thus he smote me. I was going forth. 
 As I had gone at other times, to speak 
 His word unto my people : she who was 
 In truth mine only one, had come with me 
 Through the bright vineyards. All the leaves were 
 
 stirred 
 By gentle breezes, all the hills shone clear,
 
 U EZEKIEL. 
 
 Swept by the morning sunshine, and the birds 
 Were singing gladly. At the gate we paused, 
 That she might turn again, whilst I went forth 
 Alone to face the people. That sweet sun 
 Lighted her gentle face, and whilst I laid 
 My hand upon her head, I blessed here there 
 In God's great Name : " The King of Israel, 
 Whose smile in sunshine brightens all the lands 
 This summer morn, be with thee evermore 
 And shine upon thee with His lifted Face, 
 And comfort thee, as thou dost comfort me. 
 With tender love. I bless His Name this day 
 For His sweet gift to me." Then, as she went, 
 I stood to watch her, that no evil thing 
 Might touch my stainless one, until she reached 
 Our little exile-home. In that same hour 
 God met me with His sword. " Behold," he said, 
 " I take from thee this day thine only one. 
 Thine heart's desire." Where T had stood and 
 
 prayed 
 In that calm sunlight, lifting up mine eyes 
 To the bright Home of God, while Heaven and 
 
 Earth 
 Seemed full of light and peace, and she had bent 
 To hear my blessing, — God came straightway 
 
 down,
 
 EZEKIEL. 15 
 
 And said for answer, speaking in His strength, 
 " I sinite her ; I will cut her off this day 
 As with a sword." 
 
 * * * * * 
 
 Yet I went on my way, 
 And spake unto the people, for the hand 
 Of God was strong upon me. In my heart 
 The arrow quivered, for the Archer dread 
 Had driven home His bolt. I knew that He 
 Would do as He had said, and take from me 
 My joy that day. And every pleasant look 
 Of earth and sky did smite me ; ah ! how soon 
 That gentle face would lie close hid from me 
 By the soft smiling earth, and her fair soul 
 Walk forth in white beyond that smiling sky 
 Where I could never see her : — Gentle face 
 And gentle soul both hidden, and my life 
 Made desolate. And yet I spake His word 
 Who thus had pierced me : yea, I held my soul 
 From mourning, as a strong man holdeth back 
 His steed, upon the sudden brink of some 
 Wild dark abyss. In the sweet summer-time 
 Of flowers and sunshine such a gulf of death 
 And desolation suddenly had yawned 
 Close at my feet ; yet on the brink I reined 
 My startled soul, and on the brink I paused
 
 1 6 EZEKIEL. 
 
 To speak for God, — with such strange calm as God 
 
 Can give to dying men, or men with hearts 
 
 More dark than death could make them. What 
 
 although 
 Ere night mine only joy shall shattered lie 
 In darkness with the dead % — I must not fail 
 Nor be discouraged. In the work of God 
 No man may turn or falter : I am His, 
 Not mine, not hers ; I dare not weep for her 
 When God hath need of me. I dare not mourn 
 The while I speak His word, for no weak tears 
 May fall upon the sacred fire ; no sound 
 Of breaking human heart may mar the full 
 Majestic music of a Prophet's voice, 
 Speaking to all the ages, from the mount 
 Of cloud and vision. Thus I spake for God 
 And did not falter, rather did my soul 
 Wax stronger as it overcame. And still 
 The hand of God was on me, and I went 
 From strength to strength, till all the people bent 
 Before the mighty Word, and many fell 
 With trembling to the earth. 
 
 But once before. 
 When I was heralding the things to come 
 Upon the Holy Place, thus mighty grew 
 The word of God in me and did prevail : —
 
 EZEKIEL. 1 7 
 
 When to the Princes in the Gate I spake 
 At His command, the thunder of His power 
 Broke on the word, and rose, till, overcome 
 By that dread sound of wrath, a mighty Prince 
 Fell at my feet and died.* Thus have I felt 
 My soul grow strong, when on the threshold dark 
 Of some great Vision, the Archangel sounds 
 The Trump of God. For while the Trumpet 
 
 peals 
 In the thick darkness, sounding on and on, 
 And waxing louder, all my heart is stirred 
 With new and heavenly powers, till nothing seems 
 Impossible to me. Thus rose the word 
 Of God upon my soul that dreadful day, 
 And thus I spake it. 
 
 Then I took my way 
 Forth from the trembling crowd. I know my 
 
 brow 
 Was deadly pale, and as I went mine eyes 
 Could scarcely see the path. Deep in my heart 
 The arrow quivered now. My thoughts had flown 
 Again to her, who but once more would come 
 To meet me smiling. But the people said, — 
 " The man of God has stayed himself on God, 
 Till he can dare all things ; yet even he 
 
 Ezekiel xi. 13. 
 2
 
 1 8 EZEKIEL. 
 
 Is shaken by the thunder, which he brings 
 From God to man." I held my way until 
 I stood in a waste, desert place alone 
 In the bright afternoon. All things looked strange 
 And hard to me. By the great lonely stone 
 Where the Chaldeans worship, when the stars 
 Snow clear in Heaven, I stayed my steps a while 
 And looked around me. At no other time 
 Would I have halted there. 
 
 Yet there I bent 
 My head at last, and there I hid my face 
 In my dark mantle. Over me there swept 
 The winds of desolation. 
 
 ***** 
 
 Once again, 
 For the last time, we sat at even-tide 
 Beside the door, and saw the setting sun 
 Throw on the trembling palm-trees and the streams 
 His golden showers of light. In days to come 
 With equal pomp and glory he shall ride 
 Down all the kindling west, in kingly robes 
 Of gold and crimson, but we shall not watch 
 His going down. Ah, never more shall scene 
 On earth be bright to me ; — and as for her, 
 She hasteth to a land that hath no need 
 Of changing sun and moon. I hold her close
 
 EZEKIEL. 1 9 
 
 With my strong arm, but she will find a way 
 To pass from me to God. Who ever heard 
 That He could woo in vain ? What He desires, 
 That doeth He. 
 
 And she had sung to me 
 Her last sweet song, — for she was strangely calm 
 And lifted up. She did not weep, nor lean 
 On me, as she had done at other times, 
 For strength to bear His will ; she seemed to lean 
 Immediately upon the arm of God, 
 And need no other aid. But in that hour 
 My strength gave way : the gentle voice that sang 
 Its last, last song so sweetly, seemed to steal 
 My manhood from me ; and the wistful smile 
 That strove to comfort me, — the smile so soon 
 To be eclipsed in death, — did pierce ray soul 
 As with a sword. 
 
 " It is not hard to die," 
 She said, with that fair smile, " for God's sweet will 
 Makes bitter things most sweet. In my bright 
 
 youth 
 He calls me to His side. It is not hard 
 To go to Him." But in my haste I said, 
 With aching heart, — " It is not hard for thee — 
 I know it well. The captive-exile hastes 
 To leave the exile-land. But it is hard
 
 20 EZEKIEL. 
 
 To stay behind alone, when our one star 
 Is quenched for ever. Morn or eve shall bring 
 No word of thee to me, and days and nights 
 Shall make one empty night." 
 
 She took my hand 
 In hers with tender pity, praying God 
 To comfort me for her : — " And thou must smile 
 Once more on me, and bid me go in peace 
 To Plim who calls me ; for my short, sweet day 
 Is closing now, and He would have me Home : 
 I cannot take that anguished look to wear 
 On my calm heart in Heaven, as my last, 
 Last memory of thee until we meet : 
 Nay, thou must smile on me ; one little smile, 
 Cast like a wild-flower on my misty way, 
 Will make it brighter, and I cannot go 
 In peace until thou bless me." 
 
 Then she looked 
 From me to the faint hills, that distant shone 
 Towards the sinking sun. And I could feel 
 That, as she moved a little in my arms, 
 Her soul was stirring gently, as a bird 
 Stirs in its nest, about to take its flight 
 To brighter lands. And from her eyes the veil 
 Was falling ; things unspeakable and sweet 
 Were dawning on her gaze. In that last hour
 
 EZEKIEL. 21 
 
 The Hosts of God were round us, and her eyes 
 Beheld them, while from mine the dark, sad wing 
 Of Azrael had hid all brighter things. 
 /only saw that tender, changing face, 
 With its most wistful smile : — " She shall not go 
 From me to follow Thee ! For she is mine, 
 My fair white lamb, mine only one ; whilst Thou 
 Hast many, in Thy calm Fold on the hill 
 Of frankincense and myrrh. Lord, be content 
 To lead Thy flock where shining waters sleep \ 
 And leave the poor man in the wilderness 
 His one ewe lamb ! " 
 
 But yet again she said, 
 Appealing to me, " Suffer me to go 
 To Him who calleth me ! I love thee so 
 That none but He could woo me from thy side, 
 Or make my heart content to go from thee 
 To all the joys of Heaven. And from the walls 
 Of that bright Palace-Home my soul will lean, 
 At morn and eve, to catch some distant sound 
 Of thy home-coming feet : as here I watched 
 For thy return at eve. 
 
 " If God had willed, 
 I would have gladly stayed ; but we are His, 
 And it is sweet to do a little thing 
 For Him who loves us so. He needeth me
 
 22 EZEKIEL. 
 
 To be a sign for Him, — my death to stand 
 A figure to my people, of the things 
 Which He will do on them, except they turn 
 And seek His face. And I am so content 
 To die for this ! I could not speak for God, 
 As thou hast done so well ; but I can die 
 For God, and for my people, — and for thee — 
 To aid in thy great work. 
 
 " Forbid me not ; 
 Deny me not to Him. A day shall come 
 When He shall give His Dearest to the death, 
 For thee and me ! " The clouds had parted 
 
 now. 
 The love of God was shed abroad, within 
 My broken heart. I could not say Him, Nay ; 
 Or question Him. I laid my sacrifice 
 Upon His altar, not denying Him 
 Mine only one. 
 
 The stars came forth to crown 
 The sad, still Night. I heard the distant song 
 Of one who sang, down by the river-side, 
 A song of Zion. From our exile-land 
 My love was hastening, to the brighter Home 
 Of Israel. I bent to kiss her cheek. 
 And blessed her softly in the Name of God, 
 And bade her go in peace. Yea, with a smile
 
 EZEKIEL. 23 
 
 Which God had given me, I loosed my hold 
 And suffered her to rise and go to Him. 
 
 ***** 
 And now at evening-time, w^hen all the stars 
 Keep watch along the battlements of Heaven, 
 She bendeth from the Palace-walls, to watch 
 For my Home-going step. 
 
 I must fulfil 
 My stormy day : once more the clouds of God 
 Do compass all my path, with visions dread 
 Of gloom and glory. By my ruined home 
 1 stand to speak for God, and stretch my hands. 
 Emptied of their sweet treasure, in God's name 
 To all the people. And the Lord alone 
 Himself doth comfort me. 
 
 And when at length 
 The evening-time of my long day shall come, 
 And God shall give me leave to lay aside 
 The Prophet's mournful mantle, for the robe 
 Of joy and light, — when at His Gate I find 
 An everlasting entrance, there my love 
 Shall meet me smiling. After my long day 
 Of storm and conflict, I shall feel once more 
 The joy of finding her awaiting me 
 At eventide, and drawing me to rest 
 With her in God. Then shall I hear at length
 
 24 EZEKIEL. 
 
 Her sweet voice singing to the harps of gold, 
 And see her crowned with joy. 
 
 And He of whom 
 She spake to me that night, the Son of God, 
 The saving King of Israel, shall dwell 
 With us, and be our God.
 
 COMING. 
 
 ' At even, or at midnight, or at the cock-crowing, or m the morning." 
 
 T may be in the evening, 
 
 When the work of the day is done, 
 ^ And you have time to sit in the twihght 
 And watch the sinking sun, 
 While the long bright day dies slowly 
 Over the sea, 
 And the hour grows quiet and holy 
 
 With thoughts of Me ; 
 While you hear the village children 
 
 Passing along the street, 
 Among those thronging footsteps 
 
 May come the sound of My feet : 
 Therefore I tell you, Watch 
 
 By the light of the evening star, 
 When the room is growing dusky 
 As the clouds afar ;
 
 26 COMING. 
 
 Let the door be on the latch 
 
 In your home, 
 For it may be through the gloaming 
 
 I will come. 
 
 , " It may be when the midnight 
 
 Is heavy upon the land, 
 And the black waves lying dumbly 
 
 Along the sand ; 
 When the moonless night draws close, 
 And the lights are out in the house ; 
 When the fires burn low and red, 
 And the watch is ticking loudly 
 
 Beside the bed : 
 Though you sleep, tired out, on youi 
 
 couch, 
 Still your heart must wake and watch 
 
 In the dark room. 
 For it may be that at midnight 
 
 I will come. 
 
 " It may be at the cock-crow. 
 
 When the night is dying slowly 
 
 In the sky. 
 And the sea looks calm and holy, 
 
 Waiting for the dawn
 
 COMING. 2-} 
 
 Of the golden sun, 
 
 Which dravveth nigli ; 
 When the mists are on the valleys, shading 
 
 The rivers chill, 
 And My morning-star is fading, fading 
 
 Over the hill : 
 Behold, I say unto you, Watch ; 
 Let the door be on the latch 
 
 In your home ; 
 In the chill before the dawning, 
 Between the night and morning, 
 
 I may come. 
 
 ** It may be in the morning. 
 
 When the sun is bright and strong, 
 And the dew is glittering sharply 
 
 Over the little lawn ; 
 When the waves are laughing loudly 
 
 Along the shore. 
 And the little birds are singing sweetly 
 
 About the door ; 
 With the long day's work before you. 
 
 You rise up with the sun, 
 And the neighbours come in to talk a 
 little 
 
 Of all that must be done ;
 
 28 COMING. 
 
 j But remember that / may be the next 
 
 To come in at the door, 
 To call you from all your busy work 
 i For evermore : 
 
 As you work your heart must watch, 
 For the door is on the latch 
 
 In your room. 
 And it may be in the morning 
 I will come." 
 
 So He passed down my cottage garden. 
 
 By the path that leads to the sea, 
 Till He came to the turn of the little road 
 
 Where the birch and laburnum tree 
 Lean over and arch the way ; 
 There I saw Him a moment stay. 
 And turn once more to me, 
 
 As I wept at the cottage door, 
 And lift up his hands in blessing — 
 
 Then I saw His face no more. 
 
 And I stood still in the doorway. 
 Leaning against the wall, 
 
 Not heeding the fair white roses, 
 
 Though I crushed them and let them 
 fall;
 
 COMING. 29 
 
 Only looking down the pathway, 
 
 And looking towards the sea, 
 And wondering, and wondering 
 
 When He would come back for me, 
 Till I was aware of an Angel 
 
 Who was going swiftly by. 
 With the gladness of one who goeth 
 
 In the light of God Most High. 
 He passed the end of the cottage 
 
 Towards the garden gate, — 
 (I suppose he was come down 
 At the setting of the sun 
 To comfort some one in the village 
 
 Whose dwelling was desolate), 
 And he paused before the door 
 
 Beside my place, 
 And the likeness of a smile 
 
 Was on his face : — 
 " Weep not," he said, " for unto you is given 
 
 To watch for the coming of His feet 
 Who is the Glory of our blessed Heaven ; 
 
 The work and watching will be very 
 sweet 
 
 Even in an earthly home, 
 And in such an hour as you think not 
 
 He will come."
 
 30 COMING. 
 
 So I am watching quietly 
 
 Every day. 
 Whenever the sun shines brightly 
 
 I rise and say, — 
 ' " Surely it is tne shining of His face," 
 And look unto the gates of His high place 
 
 Beyond the sea, 
 For I know He is coming shortly 
 
 To summon me. 
 And when a shadow falls across the window 
 
 Of my room, 
 Where I am working my appointed task, 
 I lift my head to watch the door, and ask 
 
 If He is come ; 
 And the Angel answers sweetly 
 
 In my home, — 
 ' " Only a few more shadows, 
 
 And He will come."
 
 THE NIGHT SERVICE. 
 
 Behold, bless ye the Lord, all ye servants of the Lortl, which by night stand 
 in the house of the Lord." 
 
 IROM the awaking of the glorious Sun 
 In the far chambers of the crystal East, 
 To where he goeth down in pomp and power 
 Beyond the western seas, the Name of God 
 Is to be blessed and praised. 
 
 In morning hours, 
 When the sweet singing voice of birds is heard 
 On every side, when mighty Forests wake 
 And stretch their hands to God, when through the 
 
 Earth 
 The breath of Life is blowing, — then the Saints 
 Arise from sleep and sing. 
 
 Through all the hours 
 Of night and darkness, angel-hosts have kept
 
 32 THE NIGHT SERVICE. 
 
 Their sacred watch, encamping tenderly 
 
 Round God's beloved. When the curtains rise 
 
 At break of day, and show the dewy Earth 
 
 Sparkling with heavenly smiles, and wearing crowns 
 
 Of peace and beauty undefiled by man, 
 
 We marvel at the radiance of her look. 
 
 We need not marvel ; she hath entertained, 
 
 Whilst we were sleeping, angel-guests as fair 
 
 As stars of the morning. When her children sleep— 
 
 Their sad eyes closed, their weary feet that are 
 
 So restless all the day, and vex her with 
 
 Their ceaseless wanderings, lying very still 
 
 Upon her bosom, lo ! the far-off Gates 
 
 Of Glory lift their heads, the hosts of God 
 
 Descend to visit her. 
 
 Ah ! Night is sweet 
 With fragrance of eternal liUes, worn 
 On stainless breasts. And wonderful deep thrill 
 Of heavenly music come and go, on wings 
 Of the midnight wind, and wander tenderly 
 On sleeping seas. 
 
 From darkened shore to shore 
 God gives his children sleep — their faces pale 
 And mournful, overshone by angel-looks
 
 THE NIGHT SERVICE. II 
 
 That light their dreams. And when the morning 
 
 breaks 
 And rouses them from sleep, they rise and sing 
 For joy of heart. Their sleep has been most sweet 
 And full of peace ; the saddest face has caught 
 Some faint reflection from an angel's smile \ 
 And the soft wind that bloweth from the East 
 At daybreak, finds upon the dewy heath 
 Some trace of footsteps, fragrant from the Hills 
 Of Frankincense and Myrrh. Oh, sweetly rise 
 Our morning-songs to God, in whose great Light 
 We see the light. 
 
 And through the long bright Day 
 There is no silence, for at every hour 
 Some soul is praising God. A mighty man 
 Standing victorious, after desperate fight 
 Upon his Battle-field — his high soul thrilled 
 With awful triumph, and his gleaming eyes 
 Still full of stormy light — uplifteth now 
 His mailed hands to Heaven, and blesseth God, 
 The God of Battles. Now a woman, pale 
 With niglits of weeping, veiling her in clouds 
 Of shadowy hair, and wearing for a smile 
 A sadder light than moonlight on her face. 
 Steals to the Saviours feet, and poureth there 
 
 3
 
 34 THE NIGHT SERVICE. 
 
 Her most sweet ointment, till the House is filled * 
 
 With heavenly fragrance. Now a little child 
 
 Of the kingdom raises his sweet voice to sing 
 
 A song of Zion — no deep undertone 
 
 Of the Battle's thunder past, no voice of tears, 
 
 Sound in the simple song ; his sky is bright. 
 
 His full cup runneth over, and he sings. 
 
 Thus every hour some soul is giving praise, 
 
 Sweet praise, to God. The mighty man of war 
 
 In a deep, grand hymn, sung with a voice still hoarse 
 
 After the Battle-shout ; a woman's kiss 
 
 Falling, with tears of trembling joy, on Feet 
 
 Most sacred ; and the sweet voice of a child 
 
 Singing between : these make the music heard 
 
 On high. 
 
 But who shall praise God in the Night ? 
 The Night, that lays her finger on the lips 
 Of men, and hushes them to something like 
 The calm of Death. How sleeps the prisoner. 
 And the oppressor sleeps ; the wicked cease 
 From troubling, and the weary are at rest. 
 Ah, who shall praise Him in the Night ? the 
 
 Night, 
 That stretcheth mournful wings from shore to 
 
 shore,
 
 THE NIGHT SER J 'ICE. 3 5 
 
 rill silent lie the singers of the world 
 Beneath the shadow. 
 
 Angels come and go, 
 And wonderful sweet thrills of music sweep 
 The night-wind as they pass. Yea, Christ Himself 
 Is with us ; lo ! the Shepherd-king of the Church 
 Abideth in the Fields, and watcheth o'er 
 His Flock by night. But who shall give Him praise 
 For this sweet service ? Who shall celebrate 
 The Name of God by Night. 
 
 It is the Night : 
 And in the Temple of the Lord, not made 
 By mortal hands, the lights are burning low 
 Before the Altar. Clouds of darkness fill 
 The vastness of the sacred aisles. The dumb 
 And breathless Spirit of the Night is here 
 In all his power ; no rushing mighty wind 
 Of organ-harmonies is sweeping down 
 The shadowy place. A few short hours ago. 
 And all the Temple-courts were thronged with those 
 Who worshipped and gave thanks, before they went 
 To take tlieir rest. Then many voices joined 
 To sing the praise of God ; but who shall bless 
 His Name at midnight ?
 
 36 THE NIGHT SERVICE. 
 
 IvO ! a band of pale 
 Yet joyful priests do minister around 
 The Altar, where the lights are burning low, 
 In the breathless Night. Each grave brow wears the 
 
 crown 
 Of sorrow, and each heart is kept awake 
 By its own restless pain, for these are they 
 To whom the night-watch is appointed. See ! 
 They lift their hands, and bless God in the Night ! 
 Whilst we are sleeping, those to whom the King 
 Has measured out a cup of sorrow, sweet 
 With His dear love, yet very hard to drink, 
 Are waking in His Temple, and the eyes 
 That cannot sleep for sorrow or for pain 
 Are lifted up to Heaven ; and sweet low songs, 
 Broken by patient tears, arise to God. 
 Bless ye the Lord, ye servants of the Lord, 
 Which stand by Night within His Holy Place 
 To give Him worship ! Ye are Priests to Him, 
 And minister around the Altar, pale 
 Yet joyful in the Night. 
 
 The Priests must serve, 
 Each in his course, and ivc must stand in turn 
 Awake with sorrow, in the Temple dim. 
 To bless the Lord bv Nitrht. We will not fear
 
 THE NIGH7 SERVICE. 37 
 
 When we are called at midnight, by some stroke 
 Of sudden pain, to rise and minister 
 Before the Lord. We, too, will bless His Name 
 [n the solemn Night, and stretch our hands to llim.
 
 THE MAN AT THE GATt:.* 
 
 " ' I am willing, with all my hearl,' said He." — Bunyntis Pilgrim's Prof,ress 
 
 fHEN the sun shines fair on the smiUng land, 
 Or the stars walk out in a cloudless sky, — 
 When the waves are trampling wild on the 
 '^T^J^ sand, 
 
 ^ And the voice of the thunder passes by, — 
 
 In summer and winter, in calm and storm. 
 
 When the morning dawns, and the night falls late, 
 
 We may catch, if we will, the steadfast form 
 Of the Man that watches beside the Gate. 
 
 In the early spring, when the voice was heard 
 Of the singing birds in their sweet defiles. 
 
 When the face of the earth once more was stirred 
 By the flowers that came and went like smiles, 
 
 ' Written for a Sunday afternoon class, in connection with a lesson from the 
 " Pilgrim's Progress."
 
 THE MAi\ A T THE GA TE. 39 
 
 [ saw llie stars of the morning wait 
 
 On their lofty towers to watch the land, 
 
 As a little child stole up to the Gate, 
 
 And knocked with a tiny trembling hand ; 
 
 A wreath of flowers on his golden hair, 
 The light of youth in his shining eyes. 
 
 And the look of an earnest purpose there, 
 
 As of one who must win a place in the skies, — 
 
 ' I am only a little child, dear Lord, 
 
 And my feet are stamed already with sin, 
 But they said you had sent the children word 
 To come to the Gate and enter in." 
 
 The Man at the Gate looked up and smiled, 
 
 A heavenly smile, and fair to see. 
 And He opened, and bent to the pleading child, - 
 
 " I am willing, with all My heart," said He. 
 
 The morning breaks, with its golden showers, 
 The pale stars pass away to their rest. 
 
 As the little head with its wreath of flowers 
 Is laid on the Shepherd's gentle breast ;
 
 |0 THE MAN AT THE GA TE. 
 
 While over it bends in speechless love 
 
 The Head that is crowned with thorns for him ; 
 
 Ah, the angels might sigh in their songs above 
 For the tears that are making tlie child's eye dim. 
 
 1 looked again, and the wintry blast 
 Was hurrying wildly o'er land and sea. 
 
 The glory of spring-time was long gone past, 
 
 And the branches were bare on the trembling tree. 
 
 Yet still at the Gate the Saviour stood, 
 And His Face was uplifted serene and fair, 
 
 Though His raiment was heavy and red with blood, 
 xAnd the crown of thorns showed dark on His hair 
 
 It was afternoon, and the sun was low, 
 
 And the troubled winds sobbed long and loud, 
 
 As an old man tottered across the snow, 
 \Vhich wrapt the earth in a bitter shroud ; 
 
 He knocked with a withered, trembling hand : 
 
 " I can but perish at last," he said, 
 " For the cruel night comes fast on the land, 
 
 And the morning will find me cold and dead.
 
 THE MAN AT Til PL GATE. 4« 
 
 " O Thou that watchest beside the Gate, 
 
 Had I come to Thee in the days gone by 
 Thou hadst received me ; but now too late, 
 I lay me down on Thy threshold to die : 
 
 " 1 have fought and finished an evil fight, 
 I have earned the deadly wages of sin ; 
 It is hard to die in the snow to-night, 
 But no man is willing to take me in." 
 
 The sun was low in the changing west. 
 
 The shadows were heavy from hill and tree, 
 
 As the Watchman opened the Gate of rest,-— 
 " / am willing, with all My heart," said He. 
 
 " O gentle Watchman ! turn Thee now 
 To rest a while in the House of God ; 
 Forget the heavy burdens which bow 
 The weary of heart in our sad abode : 
 
 " Be it far from Thee to watch all night 
 
 For the children of sorrow, and sin, and sharne; 
 In the heavenly places the lamps are bright. 
 And the saints are rising to sing Thy name."
 
 ! THE MAN A T TIIE GA TE. 
 
 But the Watchman turned and looked on ine. 
 
 Till I bent my head adown to weep ; 
 "Suffer me then to watch witlT Tliee 
 
 Alone to-night wliile tlie nations sleep !" 
 
 So I watched with Him through the moonless hours 
 Of that sweetest night I have ever known. 
 
 And His words were as dew on the tender flowers, 
 And all in the darkness the true Light shone. 
 
 We heard the gentle steps of the snow 
 
 Coming down from its home at God's right hand, 
 As the angels came softly, long ago, 
 
 To the fragrant hills of the Holy Land. 
 
 And at midnight there came the voice of one 
 
 Who had crept to the Gate through the blinding 
 snow, 
 
 And who moaned at the Gate as one undone 
 Might moan at the sight of the last dread Woe. 
 
 A woman's voice, and it rose and fell 
 
 On the muffled wings of the snowy night, 
 
 With a trembling knocking which seemed to tell 
 Of one who was chilled and spent outright.
 
 THE MAN AT THE GATE. 43 
 
 *' I wove the crown for the Brow divine, 
 
 1 pierced the Hand that was stretched to save, 
 I dare not pray that the moon may shine 
 To show me the prints of the nails I drave ; 
 
 " I beat this night on my sinful breast, 
 
 I dare not pray Him to succour me" 
 
 But the Watchman opened the Gate of rest, — 
 " T am willing, with all My heart," said He. 
 ***** 
 Thus day and night they are pressing nigh, 
 
 With tears and sighs, to the heavenly Gate; 
 Where the Watchman stands in His majesty. 
 With a patience which never has said, " Too 
 late." 
 
 Let the sorrowful children of want and sin 
 Draw near to the Gate, whence none depart ; 
 
 Let the nations arise and enter in, 
 
 For the Lord is willing, with all His heart.
 
 THE HEBREW MOTHER. 
 
 Arise thou therefore, get thee to thine own house ; and when thy feel eiilet 
 into the city the child shall die." — i Kings xiv. 12. 
 
 j^ITHIN our palace-gates another king 
 
 Was come to stand, a dim and silent king, 
 Whom no man seeketh after, and no man 
 Resisteth, when he riseth up to smite. 
 In- robes of darkness and with soundless 
 tread 
 He came at midnight, when the moon was full 
 And all the land was silent ; for I sat 
 That night to watch the child, and rising up 
 At midnight, drew the curtains wide to see 
 The silent skies. Forth on the palace court 
 I looked : the scent of the white orange-flowers 
 Came and went sweetly on the still night air. 
 The fountain played and murmured in the court, 
 And fair flowers trembled round it, and the moon 
 Gleamed on white marble pillars.
 
 THE HEBREW MOTHER. 45 
 
 Then there fell 
 A Shadow suddenly, and one did stand 
 In robes of darkness, where the moonlight lay 
 Most white and shining on the marble floor. 
 A kins; — for the dim form as of a crown 
 Rose on tliat shrouded head ; an angel too — 
 For mighty wings did cast their shade athwart 
 The moonlight on the floor, proclaiming him 
 One of God's angels, who excel in strength 
 And do His awful will : and — with a start 
 Of sudden agony — I caught the gleam — 
 The deadly gleaming of the sword he held 
 Wherewith to smite my child. Lo, this is Death 
 Come up into our Palace ! 
 
 Then I fell 
 W^ith bitter moanings kneeling by the child, 
 And stretching helpless hands across his breast 
 To shield him from the angel of the sword 
 Whom no man can resist. He lay asleep 
 Pale in the moonlight, very beautiful, 
 And fair and still like those white flowers th:U 
 
 gleamed 
 In the same moonlight. Thus I wept and watched 
 And called upon His Name who is the hope 
 Of Israel through dark nights and cloudy days. 
 The long pale moonlit hours went slowly by.
 
 46 THE HEBREW MOTHER. 
 
 And it was near the dawning when the child 
 Awoke, with a long sigh, and looked on me. 
 Where had he been, through those still moonlit 
 
 hours, 
 While I had watched ] His eyes were wearing now 
 A new deep look, as if some veil were rent, 
 And he, — with open face beholding, — saw 
 Things glorious and secret, and his voice 
 Thrilled on my heart, and held me calm and still ; 
 " Mother, dear mother, I have loved the Name 
 Of the great God of Israel, now I go 
 To see His face. His blessing on my heart 
 Is gathering ever, and He draws so close 
 And shines so sweetly with His peace on me 
 That I must rise and go. 
 
 How often we 
 Have wandered on the glowing sunset hills 
 Of Ephraim ; and at the sacred hour 
 Of the great evening-sacrifice afar 
 In Zion, we have knelt towards her gates — 
 Her holy gates — and prayed the Lord that He 
 Would reckon us among the people there. 
 And in His holy Temple God did hear 
 The far-off prayer, which echoed from the hills 
 Of Ephraim, and on our hearts there fell 
 (As falls on Israel what time the priest
 
 THE HEBREW MOTHER. 47 
 
 Comes forth to bless the people) God's own peace 
 After the sacrifice. This night once more 
 Strange sweetness seems to fall upon my heart, 
 As if some one were blessing me with peace 
 For evermore. This blessing may be His — 
 The High Priest's yet to come — who shall by one 
 Great Sacrifice, at evening-time, redeem 
 His people to Himself" 
 
 The moonlight lay 
 Upon his face ; but not from moon or star 
 Had shone the light that dwelt so deep within 
 Those lifted eyes. Even in the Border Land 
 The people have no need of sun by day, 
 Neither of moon by night. These are no more 
 Their lights, for God Himself is risen up 
 To be to them an everlasting Light : 
 And unto Him alone they look, with eyes 
 Which we must weep to see. 
 
 He spoke again 
 In a low tone. — " Dear mother, sing to me 
 Once more a song of David. I had prayed 
 To be a king like David, and to reign 
 For God in Israel, but now I go 
 To be with David, and with all the great 
 -And mighty men of Israel who stand 
 Before the Holy One. Dear mother, sing
 
 iS THE HEBREW MOTHER. 
 
 A song of David." And I sang to him 
 With bitter thrills of pain ; trembling, and yet 
 Not weeping, for I knew there would be time 
 To weep hereafter, but the time was short 
 Wherein I j'et might sing to him, and lay 
 His head upon my breast. I sang to him — 
 Singing the Lord's song, even in the land 
 Of death and sighing, for the shadows drew 
 Closer across his face. 
 
 Then, as 1 ceased, 
 The king came in to see the child, and bent 
 To kiss his brow, and bending caught the look 
 Upon his face, and started, — " This is Death 
 Come up into our Palace. O my gods 
 Whom I have trusted, and to whom my prayers 
 Have all the night gone up ! Behold, ye turn 
 Away from me ; now also will I turn 
 Away from you, and seek unto the Lord 
 Of Israel and Judah. Long ago 
 I used to worship on His holy hill, 
 And hear the words of peace and blessing fall 
 On Israel But I have sinned, and now — 
 An angry God — He dwelleth in the Land, 
 And goeth up and down to smite, and not 
 To bless, and those who meet Him turn aside 
 In fear and trembling. Yet to whom can we
 
 THE HEBREW MOTHER. 49 
 
 Appeal but Him i Thou shalt arise and go 
 To Shiloh, to the man of God, and ask 
 If yet the child may live, /dare not go, 
 For I have knelt to other gods than his." 
 
 * * * * 
 
 The morning star was smiling sweet and still 
 In the blue distant sky, what time 1 rose 
 To leave my child. The tears fell silently 
 And heavy, as I bent my head again. 
 And yet again, to kiss the cold pale cheek ; — 
 " How shall I leave thee? God Himself be here, 
 And hold thee back from Death, until I come ! 
 It is a little way : a little while 
 And I return. Wait for me till I haste 
 Across the hills, and come again to thee." 
 A sweet smile wandered on his fading face, — 
 " Yes, mother, I will wait ; I shall not come 
 Again to thee, but thou shalt come to me. 
 As David said. It is a little way 
 Across the hills, and I will wait for thee 
 With God in Zion." 
 
 Then I wept again. 
 And prayed, and turned to go ; perhaps the man 
 Of God in Shiloh would be strong to save 
 My dying child. But at the door again 
 I turned to look on him. His eyes were full 
 
 4
 
 50 THE HEBREW MOTHER. 
 
 Of God's own smile, his look was calm and high, 
 
 And with his hand he pointed to the star 
 
 And smiled, — " My star, my bright and morning 
 
 star ! 
 The night is ended, and the Day-star come 
 For me. And though the darkness on my Land 
 Shall be for many days, a Star shall rise 
 On Jacob, and the midnight shadows flee 
 Before His Face." And then again he said. 
 Lifting his hands unto the silent Land 
 That stretched above his dying head, " My star, 
 My bright and morning star !" 
 
 ***** 
 At noontide, when the hot and heavy air 
 Pressed on the weary earth, and thunder- clouds 
 Were darkening heaven, and everything was still. 
 And faint, and sickening with the burning breath 
 Of coming storms, I stood at length before 
 The man of God in Shiloh. 
 
 Then he rose — 
 That blind and awful Prophet of the Lord — 
 And stretched his hand to heaven, and the curse 
 Like thunder burst ujfon my head from God. 
 He stretched his hand to heaven, and the clouds 
 Of heaven answered him, for while he poured 
 Each awful curse, the thunders crashed above.
 
 THE HEBREW MOTHER. 51 
 
 And deadly lightnings gleamed and gleamed again. 
 Curses on Israel, on the pleasant land 
 Which had been precious in the eyes of God : 
 Curses upon her king who had provoked 
 With many sins that higher King, who reigns 
 A jealous God in Israel. 
 
 And still 
 After each awful curse, the awful crash 
 Of thunder shook the earth, and smote my heart 
 As if great voices up in Heaven said 
 "Amen" to every curse. And lightnings gleamed, 
 As if impatient to begin the work 
 Of judgment in the land. I fell upon 
 My face. I think I would have died before 
 The Lord that day, what time His thunders woke, 
 And His blind Prophet in dread words proclaimed 
 The darkness and the doom of Israel, — 
 But ever and anon the sweet, child's voice 
 Which spoke to me at dawning (when there were 
 No thunders in the sky, but only stars — 
 Fair morning stars — which seemed to sing once 
 
 more 
 Together to the Lord), would steal across. 
 My trembling soul, " Yet shall a Star arise 
 On Jacob, and the midnight shadows flee 
 Before His Face." T tried to stay my heart
 
 52 THE HEBREW MOTHER. 
 
 Upon this word, until amid the crash 
 
 Of thunders and of curses, I did hear 
 
 His words about tlie child,— how he should die 
 
 That very day in peace, and Israel 
 
 Should mourn for him ; — " He shall not live to see 
 
 The evil days. What time thy feet do pass 
 
 This day within thy city-gate, the child 
 
 Shall die." 
 
 ^z "r V; % # 
 
 I know not how I went that day 
 Along the road from Shiloh. All my heart 
 Seemed stunned and stricken, as by some wild blow 
 Dealt by an unseen hand. I hurried on, 
 And could not bear to tarry on the road, — 
 Although I knew that every step I took 
 In hastening to the child, brought Death more 
 
 near — 
 Not me more near — to him. I know I prayed 
 At times, not asking anything, I think, 
 But helplessly repeating God's great Name 
 In my great agony. And thus I went 
 In my strange haste, until I reached the gate 
 Of Tirzah : on her palaces and towers 
 The afternoon was shining, and the gate 
 Stood open. Then it seemed as if a dream, 
 A woful dream, had wrapped me all the day, —
 
 THE HEBREW MOTHER. 53 
 
 But the gate woke me, and the word came back 
 And smote upon me Hke a blow from God 
 Given in anger, — " When thy feet do pass 
 This day within the city-gate, the child 
 Shall die." 
 
 Then my heart fainted utterly, 
 And all things seemed to darken, and I crept 
 A little from the gate, and stumbled where 
 The graves are thickest. There the people lie 
 And weep no more ; the stately trees that keep 
 Their dark watch in the place of graves are 
 
 used 
 To shelter calmer faces, stiller hearts 
 Than mine. In their deep shadows I fell down 
 And tried to call on God, but in that hour 
 Of agony, the clouds were dark between 
 My soul and Him ; " O God ! I cannot pass 
 Within the gate. Where are Thy mercies gone ? 
 Would God that I had died for thee, my son ! " 
 
 ***** 
 But suddenly there was the voice of one 
 Who spake to me 
 
 Sweeter than sweetest flow 
 Of waters which go softly, music swept 
 Across my heart : the music of a voice 
 Used to the songs of Heaven. How that tone,
 
 54 THE HEBREW MOTHER. 
 
 With its strange sweetness, touched my anguished 
 heart 
 \ To something more than tears : the fountains then 
 
 ] Of a great deep were broken, and I poured 
 My heart to God. (It was of God the voice 
 Had spoken.) All the bitterness was gone, 
 
 \ And, like a little child, I leaned my head 
 Upon my God. The Angel stood by me, 
 
 ; And smiled, in that dim place of graves, a smile 
 Which surely even in bright Heaven would 
 Have seemed exceeding bright ; and yet as soft 
 As that soft music of his angel-voice, — 
 " Poor mother ! I am come to take thy hand 
 
 ' And lead thee through the gate, for it is hard 
 For thee to rise and go. My God and thine " — 
 (How sweetly, with the thrill oi perfect love, 
 
 . And yet with holy awe, as if he stood 
 Before the Throne, the Angel named that Name) — 
 
 ' " My God and thine — hath sent me unto thee 
 To lead thee through the gate." 
 
 But at the word 
 My heart grew faint again, and though I tried 
 To lean on God, trembling took hold on me : 
 And, with a voice that sounded hoarse and strange 
 To mine own ear, I answered him again, — 
 " Within our palace-court the Angel dread
 
 THE HEBREW MOTHER. 55 
 
 Of Death is standing, and what time I pass 
 This day within the city-gate, his feet 
 Shall cross the inner threshold, and his sword 
 Shall smite my child ! " But in that dark wild 
 
 hour, — 
 When my soul fainted almost unto death,— 
 The Lord did wondrously. 
 
 A strange bright cloud 
 Did overshadow us ; and 1 beheld, 
 And lo ! a City. Eye hath never seen 
 On this pale earth such glory, ear hath heard 
 No music like the songs which seemed to float 
 Across the place. Above the City stood 
 No sun, yet forth she looked, clear as the sun, 
 Fair as the moon, and terrible as some 
 Great army. And the shining of her walls 
 Was like the glory of a golden Dawn 
 On stainless snow. Upon the streets there went 
 And came a holy people, clad in white. 
 With faces sealed to peace unspe'akable. 
 I did not see His Face who sitteth King 
 Within the shining City, but I saw 
 Reflected on each face His wondrous look, 
 i And I could read that every eye within 
 The City saw Him, though I saw Him not. 
 The gates were open, and th.e voice of them
 
 56 THE HEBREW MOTHER. 
 
 That sing for joy of heart was heard again 
 Within. 
 
 The Angel of the Lord stood by, — 
 Watching, methought, to see what / would think 
 Of this, his blessed Home. He took my hand 
 And pointed to the City, — " Beautiful 
 For situation, joy of all the earth 
 Is God's fair Zion ! Thou shalt rise and come 
 (Even with joy) within this dreaded gate 
 Of Tirzah ; for what time thy weary feet 
 Do pass across this city-gate, the child 
 Shall cross that Threshold, and behold the Face 
 Of God in peace." 
 
 Then had I strength to rise, 
 And, — gazing steadfastly unto that fair 
 And shining City,— leaning on the hand 
 Of God's good Angel, passed unto the gate 
 Of Tirzah. 
 
 Yea, through God, I did prevail 
 To cross — although with something like the throb 
 Of Death (for my child's soul was parting then) — 
 Within the gate. 
 
 ***** 
 I lean on God. My child 
 Shall see no evil days. What time I passed 
 That day within the gate, the child arose
 
 THE HEBREW MOTHER. 57 
 
 And crossed Thy Threshold, and beheld thy 
 
 Face, 
 O God, in peace. He will not come to me. 
 But I will haste across the fading hills 
 And go to Thee.
 
 SAVONAROLA. 
 
 OW kneeleth the monk at prayer 
 
 In his desolate cell, 
 Pale as death his lifted brow, 
 
 His hands are clenched and pale ; 
 He cannot heed, in this hour of need. 
 
 The call of the convent bell 
 
 In the cloisters fair without, 
 
 In the moonlight sweet, 
 May be heard the passing sound 
 
 Of sandalled feet ; 
 For the monks are risen at dead of night 
 To pray in the church for grace and light, 
 
 The dim new year to greet : 
 
 The voice of the midnight bell, 
 On the crystal air,
 
 SAVONAROLA. 59 
 
 Hath summoned the men that slept to wake 
 
 And thuik of prayer ; 
 As the old year dies, and the curtains rise 
 
 On a strange new year. 
 
 But the monk who kneeleth alone 
 
 In his desolate cell, 
 Is wrapped already in prayer too deep 
 
 To hear the voice of the bell ; 
 Eight nights hath he watched in agony 
 
 Which none may tell. 
 
 His hands are clenched and raised 
 
 In the conflict dread. 
 His passionate gaze is on the cross 
 
 Above his head ; 
 On the face of One who hangs thereon, 
 With pierced hands and thorny crown, 
 
 Dying or dead. 
 
 And scarce more worn and sad 
 
 That awful face, 
 That leans, in the heaviness of death, 
 
 From its high place, 
 Than the wasted face upturned to plead 
 
 For strength and grace.
 
 6o SA VONAROLA. 
 
 He prayeth low for aid, 
 
 To meet the frown 
 Of those who shall give him to share 
 cross — 
 
 That thorny crown ; 
 But, voiceless, upon the mournful prayer 
 
 The mournful Christ looks down. 
 
 How dreadful is this place ! 
 
 A living man in his woe, 
 And a marble Christ, who never stirs 
 
 Where they nailed him long ago ; 
 Awfully gazing face to face 
 
 With the anguished soul below. 
 
 Fair walketh the moon in heaven 
 
 With her silver tread, 
 As the sweet saints walk in robes of snow 
 
 In the land of the blessed dead ; 
 And she castetn a radiance tender and i)ale 
 
 Upon the Saviour's head. 
 
 The sun grew faint in Heaven 
 
 Before His woe, 
 But now the moon with her gentle gaze 
 
 Can face Him so ;
 
 SAVONAROLA. bl 
 
 Knowing that Christ, from the sorrows of 
 death, 
 Was comforted long ago. 
 
 The monk hath turned at length 
 
 To those shining skies, — 
 " Surely God is not in this place, 
 
 I will arise. 
 And watch afar till the morning star 
 
 Shall bless mine eyes. 
 
 " I turn me from the cross. 
 
 To the Crucified — 
 Will He strengthen me to tread the path 
 
 His own feet dyed 1 
 Will He look forth from His lattice to-night, 
 And show me the smile, serene and bright, 
 
 That cheers His bride ? 
 
 Is the fire that burns in my heart alway 
 
 The fire of God 1 
 Is my voice to bear the awful sound 
 
 Of His wrath abroad 1 
 Saviour divine, show me a sign 
 
 To light my road ! "
 
 62 SAVONAROLA. 
 
 In thai same hour the Lord 
 
 Unveiled His face, 
 Sending His Spirit down to bless 
 
 The solitary place : 
 Teaching those weary eyes to see, 
 No marble Christ in agony, 
 
 But a living King of Grace : 
 
 And the King hath laid His hand 
 
 On the watcher's head. 
 Till the heart that was so worn and sad 
 
 Is quiet and comforted ; 
 And the soul is strong once more to stand, 
 And face the wrath of all the land, 
 
 With His message dread. 
 
 II. 
 
 The people are met to pray | 
 
 Before the shrine, 1 
 
 Where day and night, from year to year, j 
 
 The pale lamps shine, j 
 
 To light the darkness of a Face 
 
 That bendeth from the altar-place, 
 Sad, yet divine.
 
 SAVONAROLA. 63 
 
 The clouds of incense rise, 
 
 The sweet bell tolls. 
 Down all the darkness of the church 
 
 A music rolls, 
 And stirs, as with a wind from Heaven, 
 
 The gathered souls. 
 
 But when the passionate voice 
 
 Of the music dies, 
 And even the echo, faint and sweet, 
 
 Hath ceased her sighs. 
 Another voice, more solemn and grand, 
 
 Is heard to rise ! 
 
 Ah ! well fair Florence knows 
 
 That voice of (.loom ; * 
 This is her Prophet, stern and sad 
 
 Whose soul doth loom 
 So dark and awful from its place, 
 That they who dare to meet His face 
 
 Pale at its gloom. 
 
 &' 
 
 How fair and sweet on the hills 
 Their footsteps glow, 
 
 • " His voice was as the blast of the archangel's trumpet."
 
 64 SA VONAROLA. 
 
 Who come with tidings of peace and love 
 
 To the world below ; 
 As angels of light, by day and night, 
 
 They come and go : 
 
 But those whom God has appointed 
 
 Heralds of wrath, 
 P'rom his secret place of thunder 
 
 Come by a darker path ; 
 A voice of doom, a brow of gloom, 
 
 This herald hath. 
 
 To him the smiles of earth 
 
 Are little worth. 
 His eyes have seen the lifted sword 
 
 Gleam wild in the north. 
 And he speaks as one to whom is given 
 To know the wrath of outraged Heaven, 
 
 And to pour it forth. 
 
 Yet are there softer hours, 
 
 When his voice sinks low. 
 And they see, as it were, an angel's face ; 
 
 So sweet the glow 
 With which he prays them all to come 
 To the arms of Christ, who is our home, 
 
 And loveth so.
 
 SA VOiYAROLA. 65 
 
 '' I have longed as other men 
 
 To be at rest, 
 To follow the sinking, smiling sun 
 
 Down the shining west. 
 Or to take the wings of the morning and flee 
 
 To my Saviour's breast : 
 
 " Yet, might J go to Him 
 
 This night in peace. 
 How could I sing in the silver dawn 
 
 Of that sweet release. 
 Whilst my people darkly stand without. 
 And lift to Heaven the rebel shout. 
 
 That will not cease ? 
 
 " Oh, that mine eyes were fountains 
 
 Of flowing tears, 
 That I might weep through the sunless hours 
 
 Of my bitter years ; 
 For my land hath filled her cup of sin, 
 
 And the judgment nears ; 
 
 Then all the people trembled 
 
 For fear of God, ' 
 
 As if they saw in heaven the sign 
 Of His lifted rod, 
 
 5
 
 66 SA VONAROLA. 
 
 And felt the truth that, a little while, 
 And instead of the light of His fatherly smile 
 His wrath should be shed abroad. 
 
 HI. 
 
 They brought him forth to die 
 
 In the face of the sun, 
 They took his sacred robes away 
 
 One by one ; 
 Whilst the city gazed, he stood amazed, 
 
 As a man undone. 
 
 The Hps that were bathed in fire 
 
 Are silent and pale. 
 The marks of tempest and agony. 
 
 And of hope that doth fail. 
 Are on the brow that was so high — 
 It faced God's thund ,rs in the sky, 
 
 And could not quail. 
 
 Has he missed the cup of joy, 
 
 Whose rich wine glows 
 With heavenly radiance, poured forth 
 
 For the lips of those 
 Who dare to face a martyr's death, 
 
 A martyr's gathered woes ]
 
 SA VONAROLA. 67 
 
 Is there no cup for him 
 
 But the cup of agony ? 
 No ecstasy of faith and prayer, 
 
 No parted sky ? 
 Yet, steadfastly he standeth there, 
 Unaided in his last despair, 
 
 And dares to die. 
 
 Within the chambers dark 
 
 Of his wrapt soul, 
 Strange scenes are passing fitfully. 
 
 Strange voices roll ; 
 He lives again the last dark days, 
 
 ^^^lilst the bell doth toll. 
 
 He hears once more the witness 
 
 Of the accusing band : 
 " Thy words have been bold against the men 
 
 That rule in tne ianu. 
 Yea. and the Church of God, amazed. 
 Has heard thy voice in thunder raised 
 
 To blast her hand ! " 
 
 They said he bore it well — 
 The torture dread —
 
 68 SA VONAROLA. 
 
 They racked his broken frame again 
 
 From foot to head, 
 Till the quivering lips denied the truth- 
 
 He knew not what he said ! 
 
 " When the blood-red mists had cleared 
 
 From my reeling brain, 
 And the pale daylight that had been lost 
 
 Crept back again, 
 I looked on the white robe of my soul 
 
 And saw its deadly stain. 
 
 " How awfully that stain 
 
 Did grow and gloom, 
 Even whilst I hastened to speak the words 
 
 That sealed my doom, 
 Denying the false denial, wrung 
 From lips to which the cold sweat clung, 
 
 In the torture-room. 
 
 " And now they bid me yield 
 
 This weary breath ; 
 I, who have lost my Saviour's smile 
 
 And shipwrecked faith, 
 Am still allowed to die for Him,
 
 SA VONAROLA. 69 
 
 In my poor raiment, soiled and dim - 
 A martvr's sacred death. 
 
 ■* Last nisfht I saw God's hosts 
 
 On the moonhght ride, 
 And as they passed each martyr drew 
 
 His stainless robe aside, 
 Lest I should seek to touch the hem 
 
 That floated wide. 
 
 ••' They died for the love of Christ 
 By fire and sword, 
 And He Himself stood by to cheer 
 
 With smile and word ; 
 /die, alone, for Him to-day 
 My lost, lost Lord ! " 
 
 Within the chambers dark 
 
 Of his rapt soul. 
 Such thoughts were passing drearily 
 
 Whilst the bell did toll, 
 And sunny Florence smiled to see 
 Her noblest son, in agony, 
 
 Draw near the goal. 
 
 He was aware of a voice 
 That cried aloud.
 
 70 SA VONAROLA. 
 
 " We blot thy name this day," it said, 
 " From the Church of God ; 
 O homeless soul, the thunders roll 
 Along thy downward road ! " 
 
 But even as it spake — 
 
 Through all the place 
 A murmur ran, for a nameless change 
 
 Was on the martyr's face. 
 As if a golden hope, that slept 
 Deep in his soul, had waked and leapt 
 
 To meet a coming grace. 
 
 A glorious gleam of heaven * 
 Lighted his eye : 
 " Ye may blot my name from the Church 
 on earth ; 
 But the Church of the sky, 
 Christ's radiant Bride, is opening wide 
 The Gates of Victory. 
 
 " And I, a man despised, 
 Shall enter there 
 
 ' During the ceremony of stripping him of his sacerdotal dress, Savonarola 
 stood gloomy and abstracted; but when the bishop pronoimced the words, 
 "I separate thee from the Church," a sudden hope lighted his face, and he 
 answered aloud, " From the Church Militant, but not from the Church 
 Triumphant."
 
 SAVONAROLA. 7> 
 
 Amongst the priests of the House of God, 
 
 Clean and fair, 
 The clouds are broken overhead, 
 The smile of Christ's own lips is shed 
 
 On my despair." 
 
 No golden dawn that glitters 
 
 On the Eastern sea, 
 No burning glories of the West 
 
 Which transient be, 
 Can image how that light broke forth, 
 
 blessed martyr, on thee ! 
 
 He stood transfigured there, 
 
 In the smile of God, 
 Not noting the fear and wrath that shook 
 
 The cruel crowd. 
 Not knowing how they set him free, 
 To stand with Christ in ecstasy, 
 
 Where the angels sang aloud.
 
 THE SRA OF SORROW. 
 
 T was the Sea of Sorrow : neither sun 
 
 Nor moon did lighten it ; the waters slept, 
 ^ And dreamed not as they slept, for smile nor 
 frown 
 Did cross their face. Around, the moun- 
 tains swept, 
 Like a great host at rest ; and I beheld 
 The shadow of Eternity lie deep 
 And heavy on the sea. 
 
 A sad, chill wind 
 Did wander by the shore, but never stirred 
 Those dreamlike waters ; and amongst the dim 
 Eternal mountains, I could hear the tread 
 Of solemn thunders. Common sounds of earth 
 Were hushed to silence there : the voice of bride 
 And bridegroom ceased ; the reaper's song of joy, 
 The victor's cry, died trembling on the hills
 
 THE SEA OF SORROW. 73 
 
 That compassed round the sea, and never reached 
 The sunless face, nor stirred the sunless heart. 
 
 II. 
 
 It was the Sea of Sorrow ; and I saw 
 The Master walk thereon. His robe was dark ; 
 The crown was on his brow — that mournful crown 
 Which marked him King of Sorrows : this the gift 
 Which his fair Earth presented to her Lord 
 When he did visit her. For other men 
 She twineth smilingly her laurel crowns \ 
 But unto Him she offered — woful gift — 
 A crown of thorns. Yet he accepted it- 
 Yea, he desired it, counting it all joy 
 To wear that piercing gift. 
 
 And wearing it, 
 He treadeth, kingly, on the waters dim, 
 Fairer than sons of men, though under skies 
 More dark than Earth had seen. For all things 
 
 seemed 
 To fight against Him : heaven was black with clouds, 
 And terrible upon the mountains shone 
 The feet of hurrying storms, the rapid glance 
 Of scattered lightnings ; then the thunders loud 
 Broke on that lonely sea, and on the Man 
 Who walked thereon ; then met upon His head
 
 74 THE SEA OF SORROW. 
 
 The sorrows of eternal death, and none 
 
 For whom He died were found to comfort Christ. 
 
 III. 
 
 It was the Sea of Sorrow ; waters gray 
 And mournful stretched from solemn shore to shore. 
 In a dark rest which none may break or mar : 
 And there once more the Master. He was dead, 
 But is alive again, and walketh now 
 In robes of light across the waters dim. 
 Leading His chosen band. These be the men 
 Who suffer with Him — clad, like Him, in white ; 
 I And more than conquerors, for they can tread 
 With slow and even step the dreadful plain 
 Of those deep waters, hasting not for fear 
 Even in the dreariest night. 
 
 And there were hours 
 When strange, unearthly radiance flushed the face 
 Of those dim waters ; when the City throned 
 Above the stars looked down upon the sea, 
 Which caught the glorious image. Then the men 
 That walked thereon beheld beneath their feet 
 The shadow of the Heavenly — walls and towers 
 Of gems and crystal : as they walked the cold 
 And deathly waters, lo ! they seemed to tread 
 The streets of gold above. For Christ, and those
 
 THE SEA OF SORROW. 75 
 
 Who walk with Him in white — where heart and 
 
 flesh 
 Must well-nigh faint and fail— thus going down 
 To God's great sea, behold God's wonders there : 
 And precious things of everlasting grace 
 And secret glory are revealed to eyes 
 That mourn the death of every earthly joy. 
 
 IV. 
 
 It v.'as the Sea of Sorrow ; and I stood 
 
 At midnight on the shore. The heavy skies 
 
 Hung dark above ; the voice of them tliat wept 
 
 Was heard upon the waters, and the chill, 
 
 Sad going of a midnight wind, which stirred 
 
 No wave thereon. And I was there alone 
 
 To face that dreadful sea : I felt the cold 
 
 And deathly waters touch my feet, and drew 
 
 A little back, and shuddered. Yet I knew 
 
 That all who follow Christ must suffer here. 
 
 " Master," I said, with trembling, in the night. 
 
 With voice that none but He would note or know. 
 
 So hoarse and weak — " O Master, bid me come ! 
 
 If on these woful waters I must walk, 
 
 Then let me hear Thy voice thereon, that so 
 
 I may not die, before I reach Thy feet. 
 
 Of loneliness and fear."
 
 76 THE SEA OF SORROW. 
 
 I listened there 
 With breathless longing by that solemn sea, 
 Till through the curtains of the night I heard 
 His own voice calling me — that voice which draws 
 His children through the flood and through the fire 
 To kiss His feet ; and at the Master's word 
 I left the shore, forth walking on the dim 
 And untried waters, there to follow Him 
 Who called me, and there to see His face. 
 
 V. 
 
 It was the Sea of Sorrow. Ages gray 
 
 Had come and gone : and every age had some 
 
 Who were accounted worthy to attain 
 
 The laurel crowns of earth, and walk in robes 
 
 Of purple, far above their brother-men ; 
 
 And every age had some whom God had called 
 
 To walk in white with Christ — to follow One 
 
 Who wore a crown of thorns where moonless skies 
 
 Bent dark o'er darker seas. 
 
 A little while. 
 And all things shall be new ; the night of earth 
 Shall pass away for ever ; " no more sea" 
 Shall then be found, for pain and loss and grief 
 Are swallowed up in radiant victory. 
 Yet in the country of eternal Spring
 
 THE SEA OF SORROW. Tj 
 
 Many shall bend to kiss the Master's feet, 
 Saying, — " He never smiled so sweet before, 
 Save on the Sea of Sorrow, when the night 
 Was saddest on our heart. We followed Him 
 At other times in sunshine. Sumnier days 
 And moonlight nights He led us over paths 
 Bordered with pleasant flowers : but when His steps 
 Were on the mighty waters — when we went 
 With trembling hearts through nights of pain and loss — 
 His smile was sweeter and His love more dear ; 
 hxid only Heaven is better than to walk 
 With Christ at midnight over moonless seas."
 
 f 
 
 A SONG OF THE RIVER. 
 
 ANY waters go softly dreaming 
 On to the sea ; 
 But the River of Death floweth softest 
 By tower and tree ; 
 
 By smiling village and meadow, 
 
 In the morning light ; 
 By palace-gate and by cottage, 
 
 In the dim hush of night. 
 
 No sigh when the wistful moonlight 
 Seeks that cold breast — 
 
 No smile when the gold of sunset 
 Burns in the west — 
 
 No rush of the mournful waters 
 
 Breaks on the ear — 
 To tell us, when Life is strongest, 
 
 That Death flows near.
 
 I 
 
 \ 
 
 i 
 A SONG OF THE RIVER. 79 j 
 
 But throueh throbbing hearts of cities, \ 
 
 In the heat of the day, | 
 
 The cool dark River passeth 
 On its silent way : 
 
 And where the Good Sheplierd leadeth 
 
 To pastures green, 
 Ever the dark '' still waters" 
 
 Of Death are seen. 
 
 This is the River that " follows" 
 
 Where'er we go : ' 
 
 No sand so dry and thirsty 
 
 But these strange waters flow. ; 
 
 To fainting men in the desert i 
 
 No living streams appear ; ! 
 
 But the waters of Death rise softly, i 
 
 Solemn and clear. j 
 
 'j 
 
 And down to the silent River, 
 
 By night and day, 
 Old men and maidens wander ever, 
 
 And pass away.
 
 So A SONG OF THE RIVER. 
 
 Some go with the voice of thanksgiving 
 
 And melody ; 
 And some in silence at midnight, 
 
 When none are by. 
 
 Some go where the smiling meadows 
 
 Sweep to the River-side, 
 And the pale, sweet flowers are blowing 
 
 Close to the solemn tide. 
 
 They wander gently downward, 
 
 As the sun sinks low, 
 And linger amongst the pleasant flowers 
 
 In the purple glow — 
 
 Till they hear a strange wind blowing 
 
 Across the tide, 
 And a long, low sigh through the rushes 
 
 By the River-side, 
 
 And the hour is come for crossing 
 
 To the silent shore : 
 We may watch and wait for their coming,— 
 
 They shall return no more.
 
 A SONG OF THE RIVER. 81 
 
 And some are summoned at midnight, 
 
 To cross in haste 
 Where the banks are steep and frowning, 
 
 And the land Hes waste : 
 
 No tender smiling of sunset, 
 
 No pale death-flowers, 
 Which can make the banks of the River sweet 
 
 In dying hours ; 
 
 Only a sudden leaping 
 
 From the frowning height 
 
 To the cold dark breast of the River- 
 And then the silence of night. 
 
 Many waters go softly dreaming 
 
 On to the sea ; 
 But tlie River of Death floweth softest 
 
 To thee and me. 
 
 We have trod the sands of the desert 
 
 Under a burning sun : 
 Oh, sweet will the touch of the waters be 
 
 To feet whose journey is done ! 
 6
 
 83 A SONG OF THE RIVER. 
 
 Unto Him wliose love has washed us 
 
 AVhitcr than snow, 
 A\'e shall pass through the shallow River 
 
 With hearts a-giow. 
 
 For the Lord's voice on the waters 
 
 Lingereth sweet : 
 "He that is washed needeth only 
 
 To wash his feet"
 
 NOT FORSAKEN. 
 
 "The Master saith, Where is the guest-chambet f" 
 
 HE day was ended, and the shadows fell 
 Along the street. I heard a distant bell, 
 That seemed to ring in heaven, so soft and 
 
 faint 
 Its voice upon the air. I thought, Some saint 
 Is summoned Home — some soul will recognize 
 The low mysterious call, and will arise 
 To go unto the Father. Ah ! for me 
 Will any sweet home-going ever be 1 
 I made my nest too dear on earth ; and now 
 That God has swept it bare, will He allow 
 My hope to build in Heaven ? 
 
 I stood beside 
 My door — the door that might be left so wide, 
 For there were none within to feel the chill 
 Of the evening wind ; and men were passing still
 
 84 NOT FORSAKEN. 
 
 Each to his home and friends ; the street would 
 
 soon 
 Be cold and wide beneath the pale Spring moon. 
 And as I listened to the hurried beat 
 Of those home-going footsteps, still more sweet 
 And more appealing came the heavenly call 
 Of that soft bell, which seemed to pray us all 
 To look Above, and see how faint and far 
 The lights were gleaming where God's mansions are 
 But I had suffered loss, and sought in vain 
 To comfort me, and to forget the pain 
 Of Desolation in my heart. Can skies 
 That sweep above me, grand with mysteries, 
 And rich in worlds of light, atone to me 
 For one lost smile on earth % Alas ! that smile 
 To me was sun and stars. A little while. 
 And it was darkened. 
 
 Lord, I worship Thee 
 Alone to-night — alone, and desoiate. 
 How sweet it was for two to watch the gate 
 Of Paradise ! — how sad for one to stand 
 And look alone across a dreary land, 
 And think how long the journey to the grave ! 
 To-night I see no golden banners wave 
 Along the towers of heaven ; I hear no sound 
 Of victors shouting loud on Holy Ground ;
 
 NO T FORSA KEN. 8 5 
 
 And ever as I look along the street, 
 
 And watch the passers-by, and hear the sweet 
 
 Low calling of the bell, I am aware 
 
 Of the dead silence in the House, nor dare 
 
 To turn and look within. 
 
 Better to stand 
 Here at the door, and watch the shining band 
 Of stars led forth by God, although their light 
 Can comfort me no more. Those glances 
 
 bright, 
 In times gone by, did thrill me ; all sweet things 
 In Heaven and Earth were full of murmurings — 
 Vague, infinite, and beautiful — as the sound 
 Of many waters. On enchanted Ground 
 Our feet were standing then : now silence fails 
 On me, who stand alone. The jasper walls 
 Gleamed on me awfully to-night, as set 
 The burning sun on earth ; and, stranger yet, 
 The gentle moon is turned to be my foe, 
 Reproaching me from heaven : I loved her so 
 In the dear time that's gone ; but all things now 
 Look sorrowful on me. 
 
 One dwelt awhile 
 In the guest-chamber of my heart, whose smile 
 Made summer sunshine all the year to me ; 
 Whose lightest word broke, rich in melody,
 
 86 NOT FORSAKEN. 
 
 To cheer niy soul. But ^Vinter came ; my guest 
 Went forth, with sad face, toward a clouded West, 
 And I was left alone. 
 
 That bitter night 
 I sat astonished, till the unmeaning light 
 Of dawn broke on my heart, and showed how bare 
 It was. The evening and the morning were 
 The first day of an empty life to me. 
 I rose, and set my window wide to the free 
 Fresh East, and knelt as I was used. May He i 
 Who loved us unto death, forget the prayer ' 
 
 I prayed that day ! 
 
 The angels standing fair, 
 Hand clasped in hand, around the Throne of 
 
 Love, 
 With deep untroubled hearts, that never strove 
 To bear the sense of loss, could never know 
 To pity me. But Thou, the unspeakable glow 
 Of Godhead, brighter than the sun at noon, 
 Dwells on a Face which, pale beneath the moon, 
 Was kissed by a betrayer ; and those eyes 
 Bear in their infinite depths the memories 
 Of lonely tears and watchings. It is said 
 They all — His dearest — left their Lord and fled. 
 I have not been betrayed, only bereft 
 Of my soul's Treasure ere the noon, and left
 
 NO T FORSA KEN. 8 7 
 
 To live an empty life ; yet pity me 
 
 From the dim heights of woe, which were to Thee 
 
 Mysteriously familiar. Thou wilt blot 
 
 From Thy dread Book the bitter prayer which sought 
 
 No pity then. 
 
 I rose at length, and swept 
 My heart, and garnished it, and never wept 
 When all the precious things were laid away 
 Which might remind me of the summer day. 
 Now gone for ever. All the morning hours 
 The sun poured richly through the windows wide 
 Into the vacant rooms. I brought sweet flowers. 
 And decked the house. " Let fragrant things abide 
 Even in the Chamber still, from which the guest 
 Is gone for ever. Here let sunshine rest, 
 And the glad breezes enter, laughing low 
 And treading soft. Then I shall come and go 
 Without this heavy sense of loneliness 
 Oppressing me. These simple guests will bless 
 The haunted Chamber. 
 
 Still, I felt a Dread. 
 I felt it as the Presence of the Dead 
 Is felt through all the house, and not alone 
 In the dim Chamber, veiled with white, where moan 
 And prayer are stilled at last. The golden grace 
 Of .sunlight, pouring tlirough the desolate place,
 
 88 NOT FORSAKEN. 
 
 Could neither warm nor cheer. The chill of Death 
 Pierced me like bitter wind, and still its breath 
 Swept from that empty room. 
 
 I rose once more, 
 And, with a trembling hand, 1 locked the door. 
 And cast the key away. " Henceforth shall none 
 Find lodging in my heart ; why should I keep 
 A desolate guest-chamber, where the sun 
 And flowers grow pale, and where my soul must weep 
 Her shattered joy and life?" 
 
 At length the night 
 Was closing in ; the young moon, pale and bright, 
 Showed a deserted street. That distant bell 
 Seemed to draw nearer, till its strange beats fell, 
 Like knockings of some hand, upon the door 
 Within my heart. 
 
 At length it died away. 
 As soft waves die upon a silver shore ; 
 And as it sank to silence, suddenly 
 One stood before my house and spake to me. 
 A stranger's voice \ I had not heard its sound 
 In other days, yet surely with a bound 
 My heart leapt up to claim it, as the tone 
 Of one Beloved. 
 
 He stood in the street alone,
 
 NO T FORSA KEN. 8 9 
 
 And all the Night did seem to feel the power 
 Of that strange Presence, and the dark'ning hour 
 Trembled, as if the very dawn were there, 
 And the stars brightened in their courses, where 
 God's Angels drive them, gloriously fair. 
 And I — I felt His Presence, as the night 
 Had felt it, with a vague and soft delight. 
 As if my Dawn were come to me. 
 
 Once more 
 He made, in the tone which thrilled my heart 
 
 before, 
 The same request : " I would abide with thee 
 This night ; — forbid Me not, but let Me see 
 The chamber for thy guests." 
 
 Alas ! that word 
 Did waken me, as with a sudden sword, 
 And I made answer (though I think I knew 
 Who spake to me) : " This dreary, mournful place 
 Which once was Home to me, and showed a face 
 Of welcome unto all who came, is now 
 No longer meet for guests : I can allow 
 None such to enter." I denied Him rest 
 And my heart's shelter \ he who loved Him best 
 Said, long ago, " He came to His own, and they 
 Received Him not ;"— it was fulfilled that day 
 Once more in me.
 
 90 NO T FORSA KEN. 
 
 He did not speak. ]£e turned 
 And looked upon me. How that strange look burned 
 Its image on my soul — so sad, so sweet, 
 So awful ! — there I sank down at His feet, 
 And thought that Death had struck me with Christ's look 
 And hoped it too : alas ! how would He brook, 
 In days to come, the sight of one whose door 
 Had thus been closed to Him % 
 
 But bending o'er 
 My sinful head. He murmured, soft and low, 
 " God vv'ill forgive thee. Father, be it so ; 
 He knew not what he said." It was the voice 
 Of the High Priest interceding. Men rejoice 
 At sudden sounds of music, but to me 
 Was given that night to hear the melody 
 Of music's secret Fountain. Sweet it rose 
 Beneath the answering stars, ev'n as it flows 
 Where burns the sevenfold Sun. I could have lain 
 All night at those dear feet ; but once again 
 He bent to me, and took me by the hand. 
 And I was given strength to rise, and stand 
 Before the Lord. 
 
 " Master," I said, with tears 
 And tremblings in the night, " if bitter years 
 Should be appointed me, because my soul 
 Refused so sweet a Guest, yet let them roll
 
 NOT FORSAKEN. 9 
 
 All heavily and slowly over me 
 
 As chariots of wrath, till utterly 
 
 They crush my heart ; I shall not think the fate 
 
 Too hard for such a sin. And at the Gate 
 
 Of Death and Sorrow I will look for Thee !" 
 
 But He made answer, low and tenderly, 
 
 In the voice that charmed my very soul from me : 
 
 *' The bitterness of Death behind thee lies, 
 
 And not before. Henceforth shall mysteries 
 
 Of heavenly Love be with thee from the Lands 
 
 Of Light. The chamber built for me ^f old 
 
 Was given to another ; but, behold ! 
 
 This night I come — I come, whose right it is." 
 
 A low wind swept the street ; from heights of bUss 
 
 The fair stars smiled on us. Still lower bent 
 
 The Master over me : " Thy soul is spent 
 
 With a most needless doubt 3 thou shalt not tear 
 
 The lost one's image from thy heart ; forbear 
 
 The thought that I would have it so : to th' End 
 
 / loved Mine own. I am the faithful Friend, 
 
 And know no change. Thy steadfast prayer shall 
 
 rise 
 Morning and evening, for the name that lies 
 So near thy heart." 
 
 Thus, more than Conqueror, 
 He entered. As His fragrant garments swept
 
 92 NOT FORSAKEN. 
 
 The threshold of the house, the inner door 
 Flew open for my Lord. 
 
 A voice, that wept 
 In that lone chamber of my heart, was stilled 
 For ever at His entrance. Music filled 
 The house — and Light, and Peace. 
 
 ****** 
 
 Oh, haunted soul, 
 Down whose dim corridors for ever roll 
 The voices of the dead ; whose Holy Ground 
 Re-echoes, at the midnight hour, with sound 
 Of feet that long ago were laid to rest 
 Yet trouble thee for ever ! lo, a Guest 
 Is waiting at the Gate ; and unto Him 
 Thou shalt bemoan thy Dead, and He will take 
 Sweet words and comfort thee. Thine eyes are dim, 
 But stretch thine hands to Him ; He will not break 
 The bruised reed. 
 
 Or, are thy dearest still 
 With thee on Earth, do their sweet voices fill 
 The house with singing % Let the fairest room 
 Be for the Master's use, and from His shrine 
 Blessing and peace shall rest on thee and thine.
 
 ONE BY ONE. 
 
 " 1 will come again, and receive you unto Myself.' 
 " The Master is come, and calleth for thee." 
 
 [OT sweeping up together, 
 
 In whirlwind or in cloud, 
 In the hush of the Summer weather. 
 
 Or when storms are thundering loud ; 
 But one by one they go, 
 In the sweetness none may know. 
 
 In secret love the Master 
 
 To each one whispers low. 
 " I am at hand ; work faster . 
 
 Behold, the Sunset-glow !" 
 And each one smileth sweet 
 Who hears the Master's feet. 
 
 Have we not caught that smiling 
 On some beloved face,
 
 94 ONE BY ONE. 
 
 As if a Heavenly sound were wiling 
 The soul from our earthly place % 
 The distant sound, and sweet, 
 Of the Master's coming feet. 
 
 We may clasp the loved one faster, 
 
 And plead for a little while ; 
 But who can resist the Master 1 
 
 And we read by that brightening smile 
 That the tread we may not hear 
 
 \ 
 
 Is drawing surely near. j 
 
 I 
 
 Or in the hush of the Summer weather, ; 
 
 In the golden afternoon, i 
 
 As we watch by a friend's sick-bed togellier, j 
 
 And murmur, " Better soon ;" ] 
 
 — Sudden, the Master's feet -j 
 May be heard in the sunny street ! 
 
 Till then no dream of dying ; 
 
 Had flashed through the sick man's heart, j 
 
 But a sudden smile on his face is lying, j 
 
 And the soul rises up to depart ' 
 At the sound of those gentle feet, 
 Which come up through the sunny street.
 
 ONE BY ONE. 95 
 
 Or perchance he lieth sleeping, 
 
 With weary hand and head, 
 And does not hear our weeping, 
 
 Nor the sound of that solemn tread, 
 Telling the hour is come 
 For his returning Home : 
 
 Then we whisper low together, 
 " Behold, the Master's feet ! 
 
 He comes through the sunny weather, 
 Up by the smiling street ; 
 
 We had no thought, or fear. 
 
 That the hour had come so near 
 
 . )j 
 
 Then, trying to still our weeping, 
 With trembling lips we say, 
 
 " We must break on this silent sleeping 
 We must prepare His way ; " 
 
 And we stoop to murmur low, 
 
 " Are you ready, dear, to go ? 
 
 " The Master is come, and calleth 
 For thee ; He is at the door ; 
 
 Awake ! for His shadow falleth 
 Already across the floor;
 
 96 ONE BY ONE. 
 
 Are you ready, dear, to go 
 With Him who loveth so?" 
 
 Then a sudden voice of gladness, 
 — As our earthher voices cease; — 
 
 " After my years of sadness, 
 He bringeth tidings of Peace ; 
 
 How beautiful are His feet, 
 Which shine from the Golden Street !" 
 
 And gently enters the Master, 
 
 Through the room His garments sweep, 
 And our trembling hearts beat faster, 
 
 And our eyes forget to weep — 
 Though we can hear Him say, 
 " Thou shalt be there to-day." 
 
 As one whom his mother comforts, 
 He lays the soul on His breast, 
 
 But He draweth the curtains closely 
 As it enters into Rest ; 
 
 And none may see it go, 
 
 Away through the sun set -glow ; 
 
 He hath hushed the worn frame sweetly, 
 He hath soothed the Death-alarms.
 
 ONE BY ONE. 97 
 
 Till it lieth asleep completely 
 
 In the Everlasting Arms ; 
 We know not the soul is gone, 
 Till the Lord is found alone. 
 * * * ♦ 
 
 Or when the storm-rain dasheth 
 
 Across the wintry night, 
 And the wild, red lightning flasheth. 
 
 Like Angels' swords of light ; 
 And we pray for sailors' souls, 
 As the sea in thunder rolls : 
 
 Behold, as we kneel down trembling, 
 
 The thunder crasheth free, 
 The Door bursts open wildly, 
 
 And startled, we rise to see 
 — Serene, and still, and fair, 
 The Master standing there ! 
 
 He looketh upon us sweetly. 
 
 With his well-known greeting, " Peace," 
 And He fills our hearts completely, 
 
 And the sounds of the tempest cease ; 
 But we know the hour is come 
 For one of us to go Home. 
 7
 
 98 ONE BY ONE. 
 
 On all the sweet smile falleth 
 Of Him who loveth so, 
 
 But to one the sweet Voice callctli, 
 " Arise, and let us go ; 
 
 They wait to welcome thee, 
 
 This night at Home, with Me." 
 
 — Not sweeping up together, 
 
 In whirlwind or in cloud, 
 In the hush of the Summer weather, 
 
 Or when storms are thundering loud ; 
 But one by one we go, 
 In the sweetness none may know. 
 
 Not pressing through the Portals 
 
 Of the Celestial Town, 
 An Army of fresh Immortals, 
 
 By the Lord of Battles won ; 
 But one by one we come, 
 To the Gate of the Heavenly Home : 
 
 That all the Powers of Heaven 
 
 May shout aloud to God, 
 As each new robe of Life is given, 
 
 Bought by the Master's blood;
 
 ONE B Y ONE. 99 
 
 And the Heavenly raptures dawn 
 On the Pilgrims, one by one: 
 
 That to each the Voice of the Father 
 
 May thrill in welcome sweet, 
 And round each the Angels gather 
 
 With songs, on the shining street, 
 As one by one we go, 
 To the Glory none may know.
 
 AMONG THE TREES. 
 
 I. THE GARDEN OF EDEN. 
 
 fEARKEN ! The Voice of the Lord 
 
 Among the trees, the gomgs of the King 
 Stir the fair branches, in the golden air 
 Of Sunset. Silently the soft dew falls, 
 And softly, while it falls, the Lord comes down 
 Like dew, upon His sinless earth ; and, lo ! 
 The whole earth is at peace. The Peace of God, 
 Which passeth understanding, keeps the heart 
 Of sinless man, ev'n as it keeps in Heaven 
 The Angel-hearts which burn before the Throne 
 With love untold. And peace is on the face 
 Of Nature, for no sin hath raised its hand 
 To mar her ministry, and vex her in the work 
 Of showing forth the Glory of her King : 
 Her golden sun sinks gently in the west. 
 Her sweet, soft winds are blowing from the south,
 
 AMONG THE TREES. loi 
 
 And bear no sound of mourning on tlieir wings, 
 And sweep across no graves. And, lo ! her King 
 Comes down at evening-time to give her hght : 
 
 Hearken ! The Voice of the Lord ! 
 The bending trees are murmuring at His Feet ; 
 And, here and there, a Httle bird sings still. 
 Not trembling at His presence ; and the sound 
 Of the four mighty rivers, as they go 
 Compassing all the Garden by their strength, 
 Alakes a deep music in the twilight hour. 
 Hearken ! It is a strong, triumphant Voice 
 That mingles with those voices ; One who reigns 
 And mourns not, whatsoever may betide, 
 Is sending out His Voice, a mighty Voice. 
 
 Hearken ! The Voice of the Lord I 
 And hearken yet again : the Voice of God 
 Hath sounded ; and behold the voice of man 
 Makes answer gladly; a most reverent voice. 
 As well becometh his humanity, 
 His frail, created soul and body, made 
 By Him whose Voice hath sounded: yet a calm, 
 Untroubled steadfastness is in the tone 
 Of him who answers, and a boundless trust 
 In God's great love. Thus, standing in his fair, 
 Unspotted garments, lifting up his face. 
 Which hath no stain, unto the face of God,
 
 I02 AMONG THE TREES. 
 
 Man, answered to the Voice. And in the sweet, 
 Still sky the moon came forth to walk in white; 
 And God, the Blessed, with His blessed child 
 Held commune, and the Angels went and came. 
 And yet, it might be only the low wind 
 Among the moonlit trees ; — but was there not, 
 After the Voice of God, a sudden sound 
 A little while ago, as of great wings 
 Of Cherubim, who passed upon the wind % 
 And, with the sound, the likeness of a sword 
 Seemed to flash by. A sword in this sweet place ! 
 Nay, let us hearken to the commune held 
 Among the trees : how blessed is this place. 
 Where God is worshipped by a sinless soul 
 In perfect love ! There is no Temple here, 
 For, even as it is in Heaven^ God 
 Himself is Temple. Hearken to the praise : 
 And hearken, the Voice of the Lord 1 
 
 II. — THE GARDEN OF GETHSEMANE. 
 
 Hearken ! The Voice of the Lord 
 Among the trees, the weary Olive-trees 
 Which have been wrestlers with the bitter storms 
 Of many years. Now do they bend their heads 
 Above Another Wrestler, whom the storms 
 Of God are bursting on. The river moans
 
 AMONG THE TREES. 103 
 
 A little in the vale, the angry clouds 
 
 Hurry across the sky, and leave no door 
 
 Open in Heaven. And upon the ground 
 
 The Dew is falling heavily, strange Dew 
 
 Of blood ; and hearken, — 'mid the falling Dew, — 
 
 Hearken ! The Voice of the Lord ! 
 A Voice of prayer, a broken, human Voice, 
 Crying in agony, broken by tears, 
 Appealing to His Name who saves the \\oqx 
 And sorrowful. The Voice of One who takes 
 A cup into His hand, whereof no man 
 May drink, and live. He takes it with a hand 
 Which trembles greatly, for the cup is red. 
 And full to overflowing with the wrath 
 Of God Almighty. In that same dread hour 
 The Lord's right hand did valiantly, for those 
 Whom He had loved ; He took the cup, and drank 
 And gave God thanks. Many shall call Him Blest,. 
 And shall sit down with Him, to drink the cup 
 Of joy at the Great Feast, for this His woe, 
 And for the deeper Woe which followed fast. 
 
 Hearken ! The Voice of the Lord ! 
 Few heeded it on earth ; what time He cried 
 In agony, His earthly servants slept, 
 And when He looked to see if any did 
 Take pity on Him, none were found to heed.
 
 ro4 AMONG THE TREES. 
 
 But to the ear of God His cry went up, 
 
 And, through the wide Halls of the Father's House 
 
 It echoed strangely ; till the Sons of God 
 
 Stood silent in their places. And the Voice 
 
 Of God spake out, commanding one to go 
 
 With heavenly consolations, unto Him 
 
 Whose cry came up before the holy Throne. 
 
 Hearken ! The Voice of the Lord ! 
 The Angel in his shining garments stands 
 In the dim Garden, and beside the Man 
 Whose face is marred with sorrow, on whose brow 
 The shades of Death are gathering, and whose eyes 
 Are dim with tears and watchings. And, behold ! 
 The Angel veils his face with his while wings, — 
 His face which is so bright from Heaven's own sun, 
 His eyes which shine with an undying light,— 
 Before this Countenance, which is so worn, 
 So dim with anguish, and before those eyes 
 Which are so near to Death. Yea, doth he veil 
 His face more closely, in the Presence high 
 Of this unconquerable love, this power 
 To sufifer all things, even unto Death ; 
 Then he had veiled it, standing in the glow 
 Of the great Sapphire Throne, and knowing not 
 The depths and heights of this strong love of God. 
 
 Hearken ! The Voice of the Lord !
 
 AMOXG THE TKEES. lOS 
 
 [II. — THE GARDEN OF THE SEPULCHRE. 
 
 Hearken ! The Silence of the Lord 
 Among the trees ! We stand to Hsten here, 
 Beside the Garden Gate, and the sweet wind 
 Is rustling in the branches; and the stream 
 Is stirring, where the UUes stand and shine 
 In shady places ; and the little birds, 
 Which tremble not in presence of the Dead, 
 Sing sweetly; but their Lord is lying dumb, 
 In midst of all His creatures, dumb and dead. 
 
 Hearken ! The Silence of the Lord ! 
 The broken voice, which pled with many tears 
 In the deep shadows of Gethsemane, 
 Is hushed, is done with tears and tremblings now; 
 The seal of death is pressed upon the mouth 
 Which spake as never any man did speak. 
 Let us put off our shoes from off our feet. 
 And draw a little nearer, to behold 
 The place where they have laid Him. This is 
 
 He, 
 God's Just and Holy One, in whom no guile 
 Was found. The Lilies of the Valley stand 
 Around His grave, and live, — and the sweet Rose 
 From Sharon bendeth over Him, who called 
 Himself "The Rose"— living, while He is dead.
 
 [o6 AMONG THE TREES. 
 
 Yea, all His flowers are standing in the sun, 
 Arrayed in beauty, while He lieth wrapped 
 In darkness. Oh, how dreadful is this place ! 
 
 Hearken ! The Silence of the Lord ! 
 This Silence speaketh with a thunder-voice. 
 He sleepeth in His bloody, borrowed tomb, 
 In darkness and in silence, with the dead ; 
 — And, lo ! the City that hath slain the King 
 Sleeps sweetly in the sunlight. Carelessly 
 She had arranged, " His blood shall be on me, 
 And on my children — let Him die the death :" 
 And now she resteth, vexed by Him no more. 
 And at her ease; and, lo ! she knoweth not 
 That He has left her desolate. She sleeps 
 In quietness, and the sun is on her face. 
 And all her dreams are sunny. Never heed 
 The blood upon her garments — never heed 
 Although there lieth, at the City Gate, 
 A Lamb as it had been slain. Was it not meet 
 That one should die for all her people % See ! 
 She smileth in her sleep, and will sleep on 
 Till, in God's time, in the set time of Him 
 Whom she hath slain, she must wake up to hear 
 God's Judgments thunder at the City Gates 
 Demanding blood for Blood. Then shall she be 
 Most desolate of cities. N'pw., she sleeps ;
 
 AMONG THE TREES. TO7 
 
 And hearken ! The Silence of the Lord ! 
 O pierced hands, that were stretched out in vain 
 All day to man, and stretched out at last — 
 But not in vain — for man upon the Tree, 
 At rest at last. O weary, wounded head, 
 Marked with the Crown ! He said He had no place 
 To lay His head, but He hath found a place. 
 O feet, that hath been weary with the hills 
 Of Ephraim and Judah, — going oft 
 By stony mountain-tracks to seek His sheep. 
 The lost sheep, scattered on the burning hills 
 Of Israel ; — at rest, at rest, at last ! 
 
 Hearken ! The Silence of the Lord ! 
 For God hath given His Beloved sleep. 
 And, through the sunny, sacred Sabbath hours, 
 He takes His Sabbath rest, for all His work 
 Is done. And, lo ! the Lord hath given charge 
 Concerning Him unto His Angels ; and, 
 Until the Day dawn, they do compass round 
 The Sleeper. No one shall break through, to stir 
 Our Love up till He please. Behold, how sweet 
 And fragrant is His rest ! even these sad 
 Death-garments smell of myrrh and precious spice. 
 As.it was written all His garments should. 
 For God hath given His Beloved sleep ! 
 
 Hearken ! The Silence of the Lord !
 
 loS AMONG THE TREES. 
 
 IV. — THE GARDEN OF PARADISE. 
 
 Hearken ! The Voice of the Lord 
 Among the trees ! Forth by the waters still 
 Of everlasting comfort, He doth lead 
 His people ; and their sun shall set no more, 
 And no rough winds shall ever rise, to blow 
 Upon their heads. For God Himself doth keep 
 Tliis Garden : every moment with His dews 
 Doth water it, and shine upon it with 
 His Face. What time the sweet south winds do blow 
 Upon the Garden, all the spices cast 
 Their fragrance forth, and all the trees are stirred 
 To heavenly music, and the people walk 
 In white : and, lo ! the Lamb is in their midst. 
 
 Hearken ! The Voice of the Lord 
 Among the trees ! no more our fading trees. 
 Which grew amongst our graves, and shiver oft 
 In our rough winters, but fair trees that stand 
 On either side His River, where the smile 
 Of God is sunlight : trees whereon no harps 
 Of mourners hang. Not coming down at eve, 
 To walk a little while, and then depart. 
 But, in this Garden walketh evermore 
 The King of Peace. See ! this is He who lay 
 In the earth garden dead, for the great love
 
 AMONG THE TREES. 109 
 
 Wherewith He loved the Church. Now doth He hve 
 For evermore ; and, lo ! the Church doth Hve, 
 And walk with Him from henceforth in the skies. 
 
 Hearken ! The Voice of the Lord ! 
 And hearken yet again ; for when His Voice 
 Hath sounded out, behold, the voice of man 
 Makes answer gladly. These be His redeemed, 
 Who cease not, day nor night, to worship Him 
 Who once was slain. Hearken ! the thunders roll 
 Across the River ! Those who go from us 
 To them, can catch the music, as they pass 
 Through the dim waters, to the further side, 
 — " Glory to God !" " Worthy the Lamb !" they cry 
 
 Hearken ! The Voice of the Lord ! 
 This is the Bridegroom's Voice. And we who stand 
 Outside the door, and hear His Voice within, 
 Rejoice, because we hear the Bridegroom speak 
 In tones of joy. On earth He was a Man 
 Of bitter sorrows : all the waves of God 
 Went over Him. But He is comforted. 
 And we rejoice for Him. A little while, 
 A little while, and we shall stand without 
 No more, to hear His Voice ; but enter in 
 With joy unspeakable, to see His Face.
 
 THE MRKTING PLACE. 
 
 HE daylight has faded over the sea, 
 The shadows are gatliering heavily, 
 The waters are moaning drearily, 
 '''"^r "^'^^ there is no haven in sight for me,- 
 ■*^ Only a black, wild, angry haven ; 
 
 Only a rolling, moaning sea ; 
 And a small, weak bark by the tempest driven 
 
 Hither and thither helplessly. 
 For I am alone on this moaning sea ; 
 Alone, alone, on the wide, wild sea ! 
 Only God stands by in the dark by me, 
 But his silence is worse to bear than the moan 
 
 Of the dreary waters that will not stay ; 
 And I am alone — ay, rvorse than alone. 
 For God stands by, and has nothing to say ! 
 And Death is creeping over to me, —
 
 THE MEE TIA'G- PL ACE. 1 1 1 
 
 Creeping across the drear black sea, — 
 Creeping into the boat with me ! 
 And he will sink the small, weak bark, 
 And I shall float out in the dreary dark 
 Dead, dead, on the wide, wild sea ; 
 A dead face up to the cruel sky — 
 Dead eyes that had wearied sore for the light, — 
 
 A dead hand floating helplessly. 
 Tired with hard rowing through all the night ; 
 This is what thou shalt see, O God ! 
 From thy warm, bright home beyond the cloud ; 
 Thou denied'st me light, though it overflowed, 
 And there was not room for it all in heaven, - 
 
 Thou denied'st one ray unto me, O God ! 
 By the windy storm and tempest driven \ 
 Thou shalt look on my lost face, God, and see 
 What it was to die in the dark for me ! 
 But I cannot reach Him with this wild cry, — 
 I cannot reach Him with this poor hand ; 
 Peaceful He dwells in the peaceful land, 
 And the smile on his face is untouched by me — 
 Only another Eternity lost. 
 Only another poor soul gone down. 
 Far out at sea while He smileth on ! 
 The songs of Heaven are loud and sweet, 
 And thrill His heart with jo}^ ; it is meet
 
 1 1 2 THE MEE TING- PL A CE. 
 
 That He should not catch the far-off moan 
 Of another soul undone — undone ! 
 Here we part, O God ! 
 
 Thou to thy life and light, 
 To the home where thy dear ones gather to Thee. 
 
 I to my Death and Night, 
 A lost thing, with nothing to do with Thee ; 
 Drifting drearily out to sea. 
 
 Thou hast stood by me through my long despair, 
 Thou hast shut from Thee my feeble prayer ; 
 Let us part, O God ! 
 
 II. 
 
 Through the darkness over the sea 
 
 A voice came calling — calling to me, — 
 
 A gentle voice through the angry night. 
 
 And I thought, " Some one else is out to-night. 
 
 Out — out — on the wide, wild sea; 
 
 Can it be any one seeking me 1 " 
 So I answered as well as I could from my place. 
 Though the wind and rain were beating my 
 face ; 
 
 And through the darkness — over the sea — 
 
 Still the voice came calling, calling to me ; 
 Nearer and nearer it came to me, 
 And one came into the boat from the sea.
 
 THE MEE TING- PL ACE. 113 
 
 The wind fell low round my little bark 
 
 As a wounded hand touched mine in the dark, 
 
 And a weary head on my breast was laid ; 
 
 And a trembling voice, as of one whom pain 
 Had done to death, in a whisper said, — 
 " I had nowhere else to lay my head." 
 
 III. 
 
 And it was thus that He came to me ; 
 
 I had spoken against Him bitterly, 
 
 As of one who sat smihng on in heaven,— 
 
 SmiUng and resting peacefully, — 
 While I was perishing tempest-driven ; 
 
 But it was thus that He came to me, 
 Through the deep waters struggling on, 
 Wherein standing or foothold found He none ; 
 The wild wind beating about His face, 
 Fainting and sinking in that dark place ; 
 He had been weary and far from home, 
 Struggling forsaken, alone — alone ! 
 
 So out in the night on the wide, wild sea, . 
 When the wind was beating drearily, 
 And the waters were moaning wearily, 
 
 I met with Him who had died for me.
 
 THE MAN OF GOD FROM JUDAH.* 
 
 LAS, my Brother ! 
 
 All the Land is still, 
 ^ Deep-folded in the solemn wings of night ; 
 And on the soft and dreamy plains of 
 
 Heaven 
 
 God leadeth forth His armies, to the sound 
 Of some celestial harmony. The wind 
 That blew at sunset from the open Gates 
 Of the golden City, — which at evening-time 
 Stands smiling in the west, — has died away 
 Upon the distant sea. 
 
 The whole Earth rests. 
 And is at peace ; content at heart, it seems, 
 After the glory of her sunset dreams. 
 To taste the soft mysterious gloom of Night, 
 And lie entranced beneath its darkened skies. 
 In something like that sleep, wherewith the Lord 
 
 * 1 Kings xiii.
 
 THE MAN OF GOD FROM JUDAH. 115 
 
 Gives His Beloved rest. Yet even now 
 There falls a voice of sorrow on the Night, — 
 The sweet calm Night, not made for troubled cry 
 And restless moan, — and still it says, " Alas I 
 Alas, my Brother ! " 
 
 And behold the form 
 Of one who kneels beside a sepulchre. 
 And bitterly bemoans his Dead. The stars 
 Shine on his lifted face, — an old man's face, — 
 Swept by the winds of sorrow and remorse. 
 " Alas, my Brother ! By this lonely grave ; 
 His grave, and mine \ how often have I knelt 
 Through burning days and bitter nights, to mourn 
 And weep for him. In the hard winter-time, 
 When snow is on the hill, and icy storms 
 Sweep down from Lebanon, I mourn for him. 
 And when the spring-time comes, the flowers retuni, 
 And voices of the singing-birds are heard 
 Through all the Land, once more I mourn for him 
 No voice can reach him, in the Spring of the year, 
 Whispering sweetly, " Lo, the winter-time 
 Is past and gone, rise up and come away ! " 
 He dreameth on, as careless of the Spring 
 And all the musical soft stir of life, 
 As of the troubled winds that fight and moan 
 Above his head in winter.
 
 1 16 THE MAN OF GOD FROM JUDAII. 
 
 Yet a while, 
 A little while, and I shall go to him 
 Who will not come to me. He, rising not 
 To let me in, yet draws me to his side, 
 And I shall shortly yield, and sleep with him 
 It may be that, this very night, my God, 
 After so long a time, will think of me 
 And call me into Peace. He reckons up 
 The nmnber of my sins ; He knows this stain 
 Of guiltless blood, that burns upon the hem 
 Of a Prophet's garment ; yet, my God, I think 
 That I, even I shall be as white as snow 
 When I am dead. I know, or think I know, 
 That my Redeemer liveth. 
 
 O my God ! — 
 Most terrible, most terrible, — to Thee 
 My heart repeats this night its history. 
 And, through the darkness, looketh to Thy Face. 
 Thou knowest, only Thou, the old, old years 
 When, in the Spring of life, my heart was Thine, 
 And Thou wert mine. Then would I pass long days 
 And solemn nights, afar from homes of men, 
 That I might be alone, alone with Thee, 
 And hear Thy voice, and see, perhaps, some gleam 
 Of angel-feet upon the Desert-ground, 
 Making it joyful, as with Summer-showers.
 
 T^HE MAN OF GOD FROM JUDAH. I I J 
 
 No simple human pleasures, dear to hearts 
 
 More free than mine, had any charm for me : 
 
 I only lived to hear the voice of God, 
 
 For He had visited my soul, and mine 
 
 It was to bear the Prophet's glorious doom. 
 
 Thou knowest, Lord, because Thou knowest all, 
 
 And yet Thou knowest not (having no part 
 
 In flesh or blood) the thrill and throb of soul 
 
 And body, when to mortal lips is laid 
 
 Thy coal of living fire : * — and when our eyes, — 
 
 Used only to the curtained gloom of Earth, — 
 
 Are lightened suddenly to meet the Sun. 
 
 Thou knowest, but for angels ministering, 
 
 The Prophet's heart would fail and break, between 
 
 The rapture and the pain. Oh ! blessed eyes 
 
 That see, before their time, Thy mysteries. 
 
 And blessed ears that hear Thy glorious voice 
 
 Peal through the rending sky ; but blessed too 
 
 Are those who have not seen, who have not heard, 
 
 And yet believe. They walk, in faith and hope, 
 
 Through the soft darkness of a Summer-night, 
 
 Lighted by gleamings of the silver stars, 
 
 And see no awful glories of the Sun 
 
 Till the Dawn breaks in Death. But, having seen 
 
 The brightness of Thy Presence, having felt 
 
 * Isaiah vi. 6.
 
 tl8 THE MAN OF GOD FROM JUDAII. 
 
 The winds of Heaven blow upon my brow, 
 And having tasted of Thy cup, my God, 
 How could /ever be content to wait, 
 As other servants, in Thy courts by night 1 — 
 And therefore went I mourning many days, 
 ' When visions of Thy Glory ceased to haunt 
 My waiting soul. Was it for sin of mine 
 Thou hadst withdrawn ? or was my mission o'er \ ■ 
 Thou knowest, Lord : I only know I mourned 
 Too bitterly and wildly at the Doors 
 Which Thou hadst closed in Heaven, seeking not 
 To wait by night, in humble trust, on Thee, 
 But ever thirsting, burning, for the Word 
 Which Thou hadst taken from me. 
 
 When the Storm 
 Broke suddenly at midnight through my dreams, 
 Hast Thou not seen me rise and hurry forth, 
 Braving the terrors of the awful night. 
 In hope of catching but one word from Thee 1 
 Ah ! how I vainly waited for but one 
 Articulate utterance of the Thunder-voice 
 Which shook both Earth and Heaven. And when 
 
 Dawn 
 Broke full of tender promise, low I knelt — 
 Praying that on its fragrant breath might come 
 The still small voice of God ; but the sweet wind
 
 THE MAN OF GOD FROM JUDAH. i 19 
 
 Swept silently across my prayers, and bore 
 
 Perhaps to other ears the messages 
 
 Refused to mine. It was a bitter fight, 
 
 And Thou wert strong and silent, and I grew 
 
 More reckless, drawing further from Thy hand 
 
 For all that fervid longing, once again 
 
 To hear Thy voice. Thou knowest how I dwelt 
 
 Alone amongst Thine enemies, and saw 
 
 Strange altars rising up to other gods, 
 
 And would not speak for Thee, as any man 
 
 Who loved Thee might have done — not being 
 
 allowed 
 To speak with wonders and with signs from Heaven. 
 And that dark day, which was to see the King 
 Stand forth, defying God, before the Land, 
 I tarried, heavy and displeased, i<y^ Thee 
 Within my house ; yet would not kneel to pray 
 For my lost Israel, and would not weep 
 For Thy great Name denied. 
 
 The hours wore on, 
 And they returned to me, who had beheld 
 That morning's wonders. I, a man bereft 
 And God-forsaken, heard how God that day 
 Had spoken to the King, and done great things 
 In all the people's sight. I heard, and knew 
 Mine office taken by another. God.
 
 I 20 THE MAN OF GOD FROM JUDAH. 
 
 Who saw me waiting, panting for His Word, 
 
 As for the water pants the thirsty hart, 
 
 Had called a man across the distant hills, 
 
 And giv'n to him my word, my message dread, 
 
 My courage to defy Death and the King, 
 
 And vindicate God's glorious Name from wrong 
 
 And to my heart I said, I will arise 
 
 To seek the man who took my place this day : 
 
 For I must look into his face, and hear 
 
 His voice repeat the message, — dying then, 
 
 And leaving him mine office. Dark and cold. 
 
 And cruel too, my heart that day : I smiled 
 
 To think how terrible the legacv 
 
 Which I would leave to him wno took my place ;— 
 
 An office which a man would scarcely hold 
 
 And live, — a gift of burning coal, to hands 
 
 Which must not tremble, holding it for God, — 
 
 A robe of costly white, on which one stain 
 
 Meant shame and death. 
 
 I went to seek the man, 
 And found him sitting, weary, by the way. 
 With that deep weariness I knew so well 
 When I too bore the Burden of the Lord. 
 T did not spare the man who came to take 
 My holy office ; I betrayed that day 
 The faithful soul to death. I brought him home,
 
 THE MAN OF GOD FROM JUDAH. 121 
 
 By that vain tale, that God, the God of Truth, 
 Had changed the thing He spake. 
 
 I brought him home, 
 And gave him meat and drink, against the Word 
 Which God had spoken. He was weak and 
 
 faint. 
 And worn with fasting ; and he sat with me 
 To eat and drink. And whilst we sat at meat. 
 And converse held, I almost loved the man, 
 Though he should take my place. 
 
 In that same hour. 
 The Prophet's inspiration I had sought 
 So eagerly from God through weary nights 
 And thirsty days, rushed in upon my soul. 
 Ah ! God is terrible ! He gives to man 
 The gift too wildly sought, and gives it so 
 That we had rather died beneath His sword. 
 Once more my soul dilated, at the sound 
 Of Doors that opened to the Future. High 
 My heart beat at the breath of God, once more 
 Breathing on me from Heav'n. I knew not yet 
 What manner of Vision this should be, but full 
 My soul swept on between its banks, to meet 
 That Thunder of the Sea : — till the meaning burst 
 Articulate and awful from my mouth. 
 Searing the lips that spake it.
 
 122 THE MAN OF GOD FROM JUDaH. 
 
 Thus 1 cried, 
 By sudden inspiration, to the man, 
 Who sat at mine own table, " Thou shalt die. 
 Dishonoured, and in exile : none shall sleep 
 Beside thee, whom thou lovest, for this day 
 Thou hast forgotten God, and disobeyed 
 The mandate of His mouth." And it was /, 
 I, who had tempted him with lying words. 
 Whom God appointed to pronounce His doom. 
 The Prophet whom I had betrayed, gazed full 
 Into my face (as one who meets with Death, 
 In some strange solitude, may look on him) 
 With eyes that slowly darkened, as they gazed. 
 Till all their light was quenched. A thick cloud 
 
 swept 
 Between God and his soul, and at noon-day 
 The sun went down. 
 
 And when I ceased to speak,— 
 Like a strong man awaking from a dream. 
 He sighed, and moved, — then rose up in our midst, 
 And with no word to me or mine, set forth 
 Alone upon his way. 
 
 ***** 
 I heard them speak 
 Around me, when I wakened from my swoon. 
 What time the sun was stooping toward the sea,
 
 THE MAN OF GOD FROM JUDAII. l 23 
 
 Of one who had been slain that day, and cahn 
 Slept by the way, a Lion watching him. 
 I knew it must be //<?, and I arose, 
 And gathered up my wasted strength, to seek 
 And find my Dead. It was for me alone 
 He waited there ; far, far from those he loved, 
 For me he lay in Death ; and only I, 
 Throughout all Israel, had right to mourn 
 And bury him. 
 
 At length I found my Dead. 
 The sun was sinking in a burning sea, 
 And all the waiting hills around were swept 
 By changing lights ot purple and of gold. 
 And on the rich bright air the fragrance rose 
 Of evening flowers. And thus I came to him. 
 The wild rash Monarch of the forest stood 
 And gazed toward him spell-bound, with eyes that 
 
 wore 
 A glare of terror, — and I was aware 
 Of Angels keeping watch about the Dead, 
 With wings of terrible white, that took no glow 
 From all that glorious sunset in the West. 
 I wore no armour, like to his, who lay 
 Uplifted in the Folemn arms of Death 
 Too high for fear or wrong; yet I, — undone. 
 Defenceless, weak in anguish and remorse, —
 
 124 THE MAN OF GOD FROM JUDAII. 
 
 I braved them all ! I faced the Messenger 
 
 Of Death, who waited, eager for his prey, 
 
 Until the Angel-guard should move or change ; 
 
 And those vvhite Angels, with their lightning swords, 
 
 And eyes more terrible to sinful men 
 
 Than sword or spear, I braved them at their 
 
 watch ; 
 And worst of all to face — I strung myself 
 To meet the look of him I had betrayed, 
 Awful in death, and dark with the wrath of God 
 Which had awakened on him. I knelt down 
 And saw his face. O God, my God, this night. 
 And every night, I bless thee for that look 
 He wore in sleep ! The look of one, to whom 
 After a hopeless night had risen a Sun, 
 Too wonderful and sweet for waking eyes. 
 He lay asleep, forgiven and asleep. 
 Ah ! the closed eyes were not too darkly veiled 
 For me to read the secret of theii light. 
 And the locked lips betrayed it, in a look' 
 Which said the soul had smiled at its going forth. 
 With something like a tear upon his cheek. 
 And something like a child's surprise and joy 
 At unexpected sight of home and friends. 
 He lay asleep. Dear in the sight of God 
 The death of all His saints.
 
 THE MAN OF GOD FROM JUDAH. I 25 
 
 Was it this look. 
 Which angels saw on the great Prophet's face, 
 When, for one stain upon the whitest robe 
 Of meekness ever worn by saint on Earth. 
 He lay in Death, alone, upon the Mount % 
 Rejected from his leadership, denied 
 An entrance into the Beloved Land, — 
 Yet given a most sweet vision of that Rest, 
 Prepared for Israel ; and drawn at the last 
 So close to the forgiving heart of God, 
 Men say he died of that Divine caress.* 
 
 God, who art so terrible to those 
 
 Who fail and fall beneath Thy Burden, still 
 Thy mercy waiteth, and Thou givest a man 
 Such peace at the last, as only broken hearts 
 Can taste, or dream of 
 
 ***** 
 
 Safe from Angel's sword 
 Or Lion's deadly spring, by help of God, 
 
 1 knelt to gaze on him, with thanksgiving ; 
 Then raised him up, and bore him from the place. 
 We travelled slowly home, my Dead and I, 
 
 And as we went, what awful questionings 
 
 I held with him ! The moon came forth and walked 
 
 In solemn brightness with us through the niglit, 
 
 • Referring to the Jewish tradition that Moses died at the kiss of God
 
 126 THE MAN OF GOD FROM JUDAH. 
 
 And God was with us as we went ; our God 
 Who had dealt wondrously with him who slept, 
 And would forgive me also : though my sins 
 Are countless as the sands. With that sweet look 
 Of heavenly comfort on my Brother's face, 
 God gave me peace. 
 
 I long to sleep with him 
 And know the secrets of that speechless Rest. 
 It may be that, this very night, my God, 
 After so long a time, will think on me 
 And call me to Himself And yet my soul 
 Is almost like a weaned child, and rests, 
 Content in Him, ana cannot ask for Death." 
 
 :.v * * * ;/; 
 
 The stars grow pale ; a low wind from the East 
 Is springing, faint and chill. 
 
 Now, fair on Earth 
 The new Day breaketh, — but a sweeter Dawn 
 Has visited the Prophet's weary heart. 
 And in its light he sleepeth. For behold ! 
 The silver cord was broken in the Night, 
 And the loosened soul has found its rest in God
 
 PASSING SOULS. 
 
 AY and night God standeth, 
 Scanning each soul as it landeth 
 Pale from the Passion of Death, 
 Cold from the cold dark River,— 
 As staggering, bUnd with Death, 
 
 With trembling steps, yet fleet. 
 
 Over the stones of darkness 
 
 They stumble up to His feet. 
 
 Oh, might they but fall down there, 
 And not have to face the glare 
 Of His awful smile or frown ! — 
 For a little space just to fall down 
 With white face hid at His feet, 
 And gather a little strength, 
 And hope for a little sweet, 
 After the bitter River, 
 And then to look up at length 
 And grasp at God's Forever i
 
 t2& PASSLVG S0/7LS. 
 
 But this can never be, 
 For the people pass over fast, — 
 Even as a stream across the Stream, 
 'Or as the visions across a dream ; 
 As a cloud of doves to their windows fly, 
 The clouds of souls unto God flit by, 
 Sweeping across the dreary River 
 Day and night to the dread Forever. 
 
 After the Nameless Woe, 
 The struggle in darkness alone, 
 With the Angel dim and strong, 
 With the Angel of the River, 
 Who showeth mercy never, 
 What strength have we left to stand 
 On the shores of the shadowy Land 
 And to meet the Face of God ? 
 
 Day and night God standeth, 
 
 Scanning each soul as it landeth, 
 
 Bearing the anguished gaze 
 
 Of many a darkening face. 
 
 As the living souls wax faint and dim 
 
 Beneath a righteous frown from Him, 
 
 Seeing the last hope fall and fade.
 
 PASSING SOULS. 1 29 
 
 As the spirits fail before Him, 
 And the souls that He had made. 
 
 Watching with pitying, yearning eyes 
 The souls that refused His Paradise, 
 And have nowhere else to go this day.— 
 Till the fearful winds of Night arise, 
 Sweeping the shuddering souls away 
 To the Land where none can hope or pray ; 
 Whilst again and again the bitter cry 
 Of those driven souls in agony 
 Re-echoes along the misty shore, 
 Where the dead are gathering evermore. 
 
 O homeless souls ! wind-driven and tost. 
 Henceforth to find no resting-place, 
 But ever along the shores of the Lost 
 To be swept by the living storms of God, — 
 Ye had a fair and bright abode 
 On the other side of the misty River, 
 Where ye would fain have dwelt for ever : 
 And ye would not hear the voice of One 
 Who sweetly prayed beneath moon and sun,— 
 Let Me prepare a place for thee 
 Beyond the River, to dwell with ]\Ie. 
 9
 
 tjo PASSING SOULS. 
 
 Day and night God standeth, 
 
 Scanning each soul as it landeth, — 
 
 Watching the dim, sweet smile 
 
 That shines in that shadowy place 
 
 On many a Death-washed face ;— 
 
 Watching to see the victor-light 
 
 In His children's eyes as they struggle free 
 
 From the waves of their dread Death-agony. 
 
 Day and night Christ standeth, 
 Scanning each soul as it landeth ; — 
 Over the floods He bendeth 
 With a face which hath been dead, 
 With a mouth which once did cry 
 From these waves in agony, 
 " The waters go over My liead !" 
 
 And when His children rise 
 
 To pass through the dreary River, 
 
 To the Shore they had not trod, 
 
 Unto the Face of God, — 
 
 Though their eyes grow blind with Death, 
 
 And they stumble in the Stream 
 
 As men in a deadly dream, 
 
 Christ stretcheth forth His hand, —
 
 PASSING SOULS. l 3 i 
 
 A gentle, pierced hand, — 
 And draws them safe to Land. 
 
 Not as the others came, 
 
 But holding fast by a mighty Name, — 
 
 With trembling smiles of victory — 
 
 As those who vanquish while they die — 
 
 They pass through the misty River, 
 
 To the shore of the dim Forever. 
 
 After the Nameless ^^'^oe, 
 
 After the dreary strife 
 
 Of the failing life with Death, 
 
 How sweet it will be to meet the glow 
 
 Of His smile who watcheth beside the River, 
 
 And to feel that the smile shall shine for ever
 
 THE WELL OF BETHLEHEM. 
 
 I. 
 
 HE King was faint with battle ; and he stood 
 With weary face and garments rolled in blood 
 An exile from the city of his God. 
 The heat and burden of the day were sore ; 
 And he must see, with hope deferred, once more 
 The sunshine fade from every hill and dale, 
 And twilight fold his land of Israel. 
 His captains stood around him ; but the king 
 Forgot the clangour and the glittering 
 Of sword and spear, and all the pomp of war: 
 Towards the sunset stood the low gray hill 
 
 Of Bethlehem afar. 
 He saw a vision of the old sweet days 
 
 When, as the custom is in Israel, 
 His mother went along the shady ways 
 By moonlight to the well :
 
 THE WELL OF BETHLEHEM. 133 
 
 Even in the desert hot and desolate 
 He felt again the touch of that sweet breeze- 
 He heard the murmur of the olive-trees 
 That wave beside the gate. 
 
 Fair vision this for warrior of might, 
 
 Athirst and weary from the headlong fight ! 
 
 Above him fiery heavens, and beneath 
 
 The bitter waters of the Sea of Death : 
 
 And, " Oh, that one would bring to me," he said, 
 
 '- Or e'er it be too late. 
 Of the water from the Well of Bethlehem, 
 
 Which is beside the gate ! " 
 
 Three mighty men, full armed for the fight, 
 Burst through the foemen with resistless might. 
 And brought unto the king. 
 
 What time the night fell late, 
 Of the water from the Well of Bethlehem, 
 Which is beside the gate. 
 
 The king once more beside his captains stood. 
 And to the mighty men he bent his head. 
 " My warriors do great things for me," he said ; 
 " But this cup I do hold for these men's blood : 
 T may not drink — 1 pour it out to God."
 
 r34 THE WELL OF BETHLEHEM. 
 
 \\. 
 
 The Earth was faint with battle ; and she lay 
 
 With weary face and garments rolled in blood. 
 
 An exile from the presence of her God, 
 
 Through all the heat and burden of the day. 
 The noise confused of her great captains, shouting 
 
 Hoarsely against each other in the fight, 
 And the deep voice of all creation groaning, 
 
 Gave her no rest by either day or night : 
 And all her pleasant seas were turned now 
 To seas of death, and could not cool her brow. 
 And as she lay, and fevered with the pain 
 Of her long anguish, in a dream she turned again 
 To that sweet home which God had laid upon her breast 
 In the far spring-time for her children's rest ; 
 And His own presence in the garden, and His Word, 
 Which, nvingled with the breeze, her soft trees stirred, 
 
 Had given her a fountain ever sweet. 
 
 And ever springing round His blessed feet. 
 Where Earth might drink, and smile, and praise her Lord. 
 And in her dream she Hfted up her voice. 
 And, " Oh, that one would bring to me," she said, 
 
 " While I in anguish wait, 
 Of the water from the Well of Paradise. 
 
 Which is beside the gate ! "
 
 THE WELL OF BETHLEHEM. 13S 
 
 A mighty Man, full armbd for the fight, 
 Burst through the foemen with resistless might — 
 Not heeding that the angel of the gate 
 Did pierce Him sorely with his sword of light- - 
 And brought unto the Earth, 
 
 What time the night fell late. 
 Of the water from the Well of Paradise, 
 Which is beside the gate. 
 
 Meekly, with covered face and bended head, 
 " He hath done matchless things for me," she said 
 "This water I do hold for this Man's blood ; 
 I take the cup and drink — and live to God."
 
 BEYOND THE SHADOW. 
 
 Wiitten for the comfort of a dear friend, who had been speaking of one " gone 
 before," and saying, " Oh, how I think of her at nights, lying out in the 
 cold churchyard when the snow is on the ground ! " 
 
 'SAST ihou thought of me at night, dear, 
 When the snow was on the ground, 
 ^^ And the cold wind moaning past the house 
 
 t'.; 
 
 vT- 
 
 With its dreary, wailing sound 1 
 
 When the rest were gathered gladly 
 
 In the cheerful light at home. 
 And smiled and talked of their pleasant life, 
 » And of happy years to come — 
 
 While the storm beat on the window, 
 And its voice was hoarse and loud — 
 
 Did thy thoughts go away from the smiling 
 friends. 
 To visit the friend in her shroud
 
 BEYOND THE SHADOW. 137 
 
 To one who lay out in the storm there, 
 Though the snow was on the hill, 
 
 And the rain beat wild on the graveyard, 
 And her bed was low and chill 1 
 
 She, too, had sat in the fire-light, 
 
 And smiled with life like these ; 
 Now let her lie still in her churchyard chill, 
 
 With the snow about her face. 
 
 When they sang sweet songs to thee, dear- 
 
 Those friends in their cheerful light- 
 Hast thou thought of the dreary voices 
 That murmur across my night % — 
 
 The voice of the night-wind waiUng, 
 
 The voice of the wild bird's cry. 
 The sound of the dead leaves falling, 
 
 Where the dead men round me lie 1 
 
 Thou hast thought of me at nights, dear, 
 
 When the snow was on the hill, 
 And the fire-light danced upon thy face, 
 
 Though that snow on mine lay chill.
 
 138 BEYOND THE SHADOW. 
 
 I have thought of thee at night, dear, 
 Even as thou hast thought of me : 
 
 I — come to the quiet haven ; 
 Thou — out on the wintry sea. 
 
 I have thought of thee at night, dear, 
 When the night on earth went down : 
 
 And thou wert out in the cold, dear. 
 And I in the Father's home : 
 
 I — in the quiet City, 
 
 'Where the sun shines evermore ; 
 Tliou — out in the night, with thy fading light, 
 
 And thy face away from the door. 
 
 I have thought of thee at night, dear, 
 
 When the angels stood by me. 
 And the House was filled with the victor-song, 
 
 And the sound of the crystal sea : 
 
 For I knew that the songs of sonow 
 
 Were the nearest unto thee, 
 And the sound of the dreary river 
 
 Which flows in the dark to the sea
 
 BEYOND THE SHADOW. 139 
 
 We used to talk of the glory, 
 
 When I, too, stood outside ; 
 Now I see the King in His beauty, 
 
 In the far-off land abide. 
 
 But the half of all His glory 
 Had never been told to me, 
 
 Nor the joy of the joyous city 
 Which stands by the crystal sea. 
 
 I have spoken to Him at nights, dear, 
 
 When I sat low down at His feet. 
 And the light of His overcoming smile 
 Shone on till it seemed too sweet. 
 
 Too sweet for one so worthless : 
 
 Yet I felt it set me free ; 
 And free to think of thee, dear — 
 
 For He hath done all for me. 
 
 When the earth-wind sounded dreary 
 Far away outside the gate, 
 
 I have said, " It bloweth chill on her 
 Will she not be home till late % "
 
 14° BEYOND THE SHADOW 
 
 The sun was on the City — 
 The sun on the golden street — 
 
 And the Hght of His smile shone on a while, 
 As His answer sounded sweet. 
 
 1 
 
 He spake in the speech of heaven, — | 
 
 Which I may not tell to thee, 
 Save this, " I have rest and peace for all 
 
 Who seek for rest in Me." 
 
 So He thinks of thee at nights, dear, 
 When the cold night falls on thee. 
 
 And His voice goes down, through storm and sun- 
 " There is rest, dear one, with Me." 
 
 And He'll think of thee at night, dear. 
 When the last night cometh down, 
 
 And the cold dew falleth, gleaming 
 In the last gleam of the sun. 
 
 When the death-wind from the valley 
 Moaneth through the forests dim, 
 " We will think of thee at night, dear, 
 And thou shalt think of Him."'
 
 GOD'S DOOR. 
 
 I. 
 
 nW 
 W 
 
 HE night is dark, the Door stands wide, 
 Oh, enter in and rest," they cried ; 
 " The night-wind moaneth down the street 
 And the sound is over of passing feet, 
 And the city grows quiet and desolate, 
 
 Thou art weary, the Door stands wide, 
 
 Oh, enter in and rest," they cried. 
 
 The night is dark, the Door is shut, 
 The cold wind moaneth down the street, 
 And one by one the lamps go out, 
 Along the road, as I stand without, 
 Without, in the cold, hard street. 
 
 The night is dark, I long to go 
 To my own bright home, in the home-like city ;
 
 142 GOD'S DOOR. 
 
 1 have caught its gleam through the darkening hours, 
 
 As ever it gleams when the Tempest lowers, 
 
 To draw me back to its love and pity : 
 
 But alone, afar, I must watch to-night, 
 Till the Lord arise, and give me Light. 
 
 For I cannot go to my home in peace, 
 I cannot rest at my own fireside, 
 I cannot comfort my soul, and say, 
 " We will come to the Door another day." 
 
 There is no more light, or comfort, or ease, 
 
 No home on earth evermore for me. 
 
 Except Christ let me in, and come forth with me. 
 
 I have caught the gleam of another Light, 
 
 And the earthly joys have paled away. 
 I lay asleep in the empty night. 
 But God's touch wakened me up to see. 
 And the Light of the World shone on me. 
 A moment only, and then He was gone ; 
 
 And a darkness grew up before my face 
 Which my other nights had never known : 
 
 So I rose and passed through the darkening city, 
 Following Him who was gone before. 
 
 I saw no Form, but some words of pity 
 Were murmured across the twilight hour. 
 And drew me along till I reached the Door.
 
 GOD'S DOOR. 143 
 
 But His voice is huslied, and the hours are long, 
 And the Door is shut, and barred, and strong, 
 And He is gone in, and has left me alone : 
 
 Yet not alone, oh, not alone ! 
 I see, by the light of the cold, wan moon. 
 That others are watching the Door with me ; 
 Old men and children, tremblingly. 
 Watching by God's shut Door, like me. 
 
 The watchers are pale in the dim moonlight, 
 And with tears they wait till the Master rise ; 
 And I think, as I see them stand in the night; 
 — A little while and those weary eyes 
 Shall see the Light. But as for vie^ 
 It is harder to think that /shall see, 
 Though my heart is waiting too for Him. 
 
 The sky is dark, the street is dim, 
 The night-wind moaneth coldly by. 
 And now and then I hear a sigh, 
 From those who watch the door with me ; 
 And now and then, when men go by, 
 I hear them laugh aloud, to see 
 How we wait in the night, O God, for Thee. 
 
 But the night wears on, the Door is shut, 
 And I tremble to stand so long without,
 
 144 GOD'S DOOR. 
 
 Lest I die before I enter in ; 
 For one came pressing up the street 
 A while ago, with hasty feet, 
 — One whom I did not care to greet, 
 One whom 1 did not dare to meet — 
 And I shook God's door with a sudden strain, 
 
 When I heard the Sin-Avenger's feet ; 
 Yea, I shook the Door, in vain, in vain. 
 
 But I'll stand to the End at His fast-shut Gate ; 
 
 I will wait, and wait in the cold, hard street ; 
 Perhaps in the dawn of the coming day, 
 Perhaps when the night is on the wane, 
 
 He may hear the sound of my wandering feet 
 About the Door, and may call me in. 
 
 II. 
 
 The night is dark, the Door is shut, 
 The cold wind moaneth down the street, 
 
 And I, who stand no more without, 
 
 Can hear the stormy Tempest's shout, 
 
 And the call of the angry Sea. 
 He has brought me in, from the desolate street ; 
 He has brought me in, and my rest is sweet ; 
 
 For the Lord doth comfort me.
 
 GOD'S DOOR. 145 
 
 The street was dark, the Door was shut, 
 The third watch of the night was come, 
 
 And all the dim lamps were gone out, 
 And we seemed no nearer God and Home ; 
 But the wind sank low in the dreary street. 
 And the sky grew softer, almost sweet. 
 And the stars came forth to gleam ; 
 
 The night was changed, and hope sprang up, 
 As hope might come in a dream. 
 
 I thought, I will try to trust in God ; 
 
 In the excellent Glory His abode 
 
 Hath been from of old ; thence looketh He, 
 
 And surely He cannot help seeing me. 
 
 And I think, perhaps He thinks of me ; 
 
 For my heart is with Him constantly. 
 
 And I cannot go from His door, and say 
 
 I have other good things, I will let Him stay. 
 
 So I'll try to think that He thinks of me, 
 
 And that His love holds me silently. 
 
 The night was dark, the Door was shut. 
 
 But sweet thoughts of the blessed Name 
 
 Of Him who died on Calvary 
 
 Swept through my heart; and then there came 
 
 in
 
 146 GOD'S DOOR. 
 
 Deep prayers that, in His mercy, He 
 Would cast His white robe over me ; 
 I could not choose but kneel me down 
 — My face upon His Threshold-stone — 
 My heart embracing Him alone. 
 
 Then, as I prayed, I was aware 
 That some great Light was risen on me ; 
 And, looking upwards in my prayer, 
 I saw the Door was opened wide, 
 And One was standing at my side 
 It thrilled my heart to see. 
 
 And so He took me into rest, 
 From the dreary street with its shadows dim, 
 To the sweet, sweet rest His children know, 
 While their feet are tarrying still below. 
 
 The other rest remains with Him, 
 In the Upper Room of our Father's House, 
 Where the Feast is spread for the Master's friends, 
 And the song of their victory never ends. 
 
 The night is dark, the Door is shut, 
 I stand within the House of God ; 
 But I hear the wind, as it moans in the street, 
 And I hear the sound of the passing feet,
 
 COD'S DOOR. 147 
 
 And sometimes I hear the trembling knock 
 Of one who standeth outside the Door, 
 Knocking and pleading more and more. 
 
 And I pray to Him who took 7ne in, 
 To Him who forgave me all my sin, 
 
 That those who wait in the dreary street, 
 
 With trembling hands and weary feet, 
 May also enter into rest, 
 
 And dwell, like me, in His presence blest.
 
 THE CHAMBER OF PEACE. 
 
 The Pilgrim they laid in a large upper chamber, facing the sun-rising. Tlie 
 name of the chamber was Peace." — Banyan's Pilgrim's Progress. 
 
 FTER the burden and heat of the day, 
 The starry calm of night ; 
 P* After the rough and toilsome way, 
 A sleep in the robe of white. 
 
 O blessed Pilgrim ! we see thy face 
 
 As an angel's face might seem, 
 For, lying pale in that shadowy place, 
 
 Thou dreamest a golden dream. 
 
 The stars are watching the sleeping saint, 
 
 And lighting the sleeping brow ; 
 But the light of the stars is cold and faint 
 
 To the glory he dreameth now : 
 
 For the things that are hid from waking eyes 
 Shine clear to the veiled sight ;
 
 THE CHAMBER Oh PEACE. I49 
 
 From the chamber dim where the Pilgrim lies 
 We can watch the fountains of light. 
 
 The journey is over, the fight is fought, 
 He hath seen the Home of his love ; 
 
 And the smile on the dreamer's face is caught 
 From the land of smiles above. 
 
 We also have sometimes lain asleep 
 
 In the blessed Chamber of Peace \ 
 Too weary to wrestle, or watch, or weep. 
 
 For a while the struggle must cease — 
 
 We give thanks for the weakness that makes us lie 
 
 So helpless and calm for a while ; 
 The roar of the battle goes hoarsely by, 
 
 And we hear it, in dreams, with a smile. 
 
 Oh, sweet is the slumber wherewith the King 
 
 Hath caused the weary to rest ! 
 For, sleeping, we hear the angels sing, 
 
 We lean on the Master's breast. 
 
 Thou hast another Chamber, dear Lord — 
 
 The secret place of peace. 
 Where thy precious ones are safely stored, 
 
 When their weary wanderings cease :
 
 150 THE CHAMBER OF PEACE. 
 
 After the burden and heat of the day, 
 
 The starry calm of night ; 
 After the rough and toilsome way, 
 
 A sleep in the robe of white. 
 
 The sacred Chamber is still and wide, 
 
 You listen in vain for a breath ; 
 And pale lie the sleepers, side by side. 
 
 In the cold moonlight of death. 
 
 No sighs are heard in the shadowy place. 
 
 No voices of them that weep ; 
 They have fought the fight, and finished the 
 race — 
 
 God giveth them rest in sleep. 
 
 Are they dreaming, the sleepers pale and still } 
 For their faces are rapt and calm. 
 
 As though they were treading the Holy Hill, 
 And hearkening the angels' psalm : 
 
 The things that were hid from waking eyes 
 Shine clear to the veiled sight : 
 
 In the last deep sleep the Pilgrims rise. 
 To walk on the shores of Light.
 
 THE CHAMBER OF PEACE. 151 
 
 Oh, sweet is the slumber wherewith the King 
 
 Hath caused the weary to rest I 
 For, sleeping, they hear the angels sing, 
 
 They lean on the Master's breast. 
 
 And sweet is the Chamber, silent and wide, 
 
 Where lingers the holy smile 
 Of a wayfaring Man, who turned aside 
 
 To rest, long ago, for a while : 
 
 He had suffered a sorrow which none may tell, 
 He had purchased a Gift unpriced ; 
 
 When His work was over the moonlight fell 
 On the sleeping face of Christ : 
 
 The face of a Victor, dead and crowned. 
 
 With a smile divinely fair ; 
 The saints and martyrs sleeping around 
 
 Were stirred as He entered there :* 
 
 His very Name is as ointment poured 
 
 On the moonlight pale to-night ; 
 And the Chamber is sweet to Thy servants, Lord, 
 
 For the scent of Thy raiment white. 
 
 * " And the graves were opened, and many bodies of the saints which sl.;pt 
 arose" (Matt, xxvii. 52).
 
 152 THE CHAMBER OF PEACE. 
 
 The silent Chamber faceth the east, 
 
 Faceth the dawn of the day, 
 And the shining feet of our great High Priest 
 
 Shall break through the shadows gray. 
 
 The golden dawn of the Day of God 
 Shall smite on the sealed eyes ; 
 
 The trumpet's sound shall thunder around, 
 The dreamers shall wake and rise. 
 
 The night is over, the sleep is slept, 
 
 They are called from the shadowy place \ 
 
 The Pilgrims stand in the glorious land, 
 And gaze on the Master's face.
 
 NUMBERED WITH THE TRANSGRESSORS. 
 
 " In a dream, in a vision of the night, when deep sleep falleth upon men, then 
 He openeth the ears of men, and sealeth their instruction." 
 
 Tl'v 
 
 LOOKED, and the soul of a child of God 
 Went up to God through the cloudy skies 
 At the hour of the evening sacrifice, 
 As the ransomed people go, one by one. 
 To inherit the Kingdom beyond the sun. 
 But not alone went the child of God, 
 By that unearthly, cloud-girt road, 
 For One bore him up as on eagles' wings. 
 They passed by the gates of the setting sun, 
 They passed by the pale stars one by one. 
 Which shone like the thrones of heavenly kings ; 
 And the dark clouds swept through the darkening 
 
 sky, 
 Like chariots rushing before the Lord, 
 And the stormy northern winds flew by, 
 Fulfilhng His royal and mighty word .■
 
 154 NUMBERED WITH THE TRANSGRESSORS. 
 
 And, behold ! dark Angels, weary and tost, 
 (With the awful look of a Heaven lost 
 
 On their faces grand and sad,) 
 Were passing athwart that stormy sky, 
 And shivered and moaned, as the Lord 
 went by — 
 
 Christ did not make than glad. 
 
 I looked till, up by the shadowy road, 
 They two were come to the City of God ; 
 And the glorious Angels, that ever stand 
 By the gate of the City, on either hand, 
 Beholding the royal face of Christ, 
 Cast down their crowns of gems unpriced 
 
 Before those weary feet \ 
 And, " Lift up your heads on high, ye 
 
 gates ! 
 Behold, the King of Glory waits ! " 
 
 Rang down the golden street. 
 
 Methought, at that joyful Angel-shout, 
 On the face of Him who stood without, 
 Some thought, of infinite joy or woe. 
 Moved for a moment, mighty but dim : 
 I could not read which it was to Him, 
 And I did not see it come or go.
 
 S UMBERED IVITH THE TRANSGRESSORS. 155 
 
 A moment He glanced up the shining street, 
 Which no earthly sunbeams fill ; 
 
 A moment he looked where — awful, yet sweet— 
 The Glory Inaccessible 
 
 Burneth upon the burning Throne, 
 
 In the midst of Heaven, upHfted, alone. 
 
 And again rose up the thunder-shout. 
 
 " Come in, Thou Blessed of God the Lord ; 
 
 Come in ; why standest Thou without ? 
 We hail Thy coming feet ;" 
 
 And, " Lift up your heads on high, ye gates ! 
 
 Behold, the King of Glory waits !" 
 
 Rang down the golden street. 
 
 And then it seemed to me there fell, 
 
 As falls in a dream by night, 
 Perhaps an echo, perhaps a voice. 
 But those mighty Angels did so rejoice, 
 
 I could not hear aright, 
 — " Father, if it be possible, — 
 Behold, / stand at the door this night ; 
 If it be possible :" — but from the Light 
 Of the Glory Inaccessible, 
 Which burneth ever, awful and still, 
 No voice made answer. And then I think 
 He said, speaking softly, " Shall I not drink
 
 156 yUMBERED Wiril THE TRANSGRESSORS. 
 
 The cup that My Father giveth Me % 
 Surely I bear the heavy sin 
 Of many, and cannot enter in 
 To the Holy City of God the King. 
 Thou shalt go in, My ransomed one I 
 Behold, the doors stand wide for thee ! 
 Behold, upon thy head the sun 
 Of God is shining ! As for Me, 
 I go to pay the Price, for thee 
 And many, who shall walk in white 
 Before the Throne of God this night. 
 A little while, and My feet shall stand 
 
 Within thy gates, Jerusalem ! 
 A little while, and from the Land 
 
 Of trouble and darkness / shall come 
 And sit down to My rest at Home." 
 
 There were two who went by the shadowy 
 
 road. 
 And two who stood by the City of God ; 
 But up through the golden-shining street 
 One passed alone, and all the sweet 
 Mysterious joys laid up for those 
 Whom God has loved, infolded one 
 Of those two who went up by the setting 
 
 sun.
 
 NUMBERED WITH THE TRANSGRESSORS. 157 
 
 The Other stood, in the deepening night, 
 Far, far beneath the starry Height 
 
 Where the golden ramparts gleam ; 
 And in the night, the dreary night, 
 — " My God, Thy will is My deUght : 
 — My People, ye shall vi'xn the Height :" 
 
 I heard Him say in my dream.
 
 THROUGH THE FLOOD ON FOOT. 
 
 HE sun had sunk in the West 
 For a little while, 
 P And the clouds which had gathered 
 to see him die 
 Had caught his dying smile. 
 
 We sat in the door of our Tent, 
 
 In the cool of the day, 
 Towards the quiet meadow 
 
 Where misty shadows lay, 
 
 And over the mountains of Moab 
 
 Afar, 
 We saw the first, sweet gleam 
 
 Of the first star. 
 
 The great and terrible Land 
 Of Wilderness and drought.
 
 THROUGH THE FLOOD ON FOOT. 159 
 
 Lay in the shadows behind us, 
 For the Lord had brought us ouL 
 
 The great and terrible River, 
 
 Though shrouded still from view, 
 
 Lay in the shadows before us, 
 
 But the Lord would bear us through. 
 
 In the stillness and the star-light, 
 In sight of the Blessed Land, 
 
 We thought of the bygone Desert-life, 
 And the burning, blinding sand. 
 
 Many a dreary sunset, 
 
 Many a dreary dawn, 
 We had watched upon those desert hills 
 
 As we pressed slowly on. 
 
 Yet sweet had been the silent dews 
 Which from God's Presence fell, 
 
 And the still hours of resting 
 By Palm-tree and by Well, 
 
 Till we pitched our Tent at last. 
 The Desert done,
 
 i6o THROUGH THE FLOOD ON FOOT. 
 
 Where we saw the hills of the Holy Land 
 Gleam in our sinking sun : 
 
 And we sat in the door of our Tent, 
 
 In tlie cool of the day, 
 Towards the quiet meadow 
 
 Where misty shadows lay : 
 
 We were talking about the King, 
 
 And our elder Brother, 
 As we were used often to speak 
 
 One to another, 
 
 — The Lord standing quietly by. 
 
 In the shadows dim, 
 Smiling perhaps, in the dark, to hear 
 
 Our sweet, sweet talk of Him. 
 
 " I think in a little while," 
 
 I said at length, 
 " We shall see His Face in the City 
 
 Of everlasting strength, 
 
 " And sit down under the shadow 
 Of His smile,
 
 THROUGH THE FLOOD ON FOOT. i6i 
 
 With great delight and thanksgiving, 
 To rest a while." 
 
 — " But the River — the awful River, 
 
 In the dying light," 
 — And, even as he spoke, the murmur 
 
 Of a River rose on the night ! 
 
 And One came up through the meadow, 
 
 Where the mists lay dim. 
 Till He stood by my friend in the star-light. 
 
 And spake to him : — 
 
 " I have come to call thee Home," 
 
 Said our veiled Guest ; 
 " The terrible journey of life is done, — 
 
 I will take thee into Rest. 
 
 "Arise! thou shalt come to the Palace, 
 
 To rest thee for ever ;" 
 —And He pointed across the dark meadow, 
 
 And down to the River. 
 
 And my friend rose up in the shadows, 
 
 And turned to me, — 
 11
 
 1(52 THROUGH THE FLOOD ON FOOT. 
 
 " Be of good cheer," I said faintly, 
 " For He calleth thee." 
 
 For I knew, by His loving Voice, 
 
 His kingly word, 
 The veiled Guest in the starlight dim 
 
 Was Christ, the Lord. 
 
 So we three went slowly down 
 
 To the River-side, 
 Till we stood in the heavy shadows 
 
 By the black, wild tide. 
 
 I could hear that the Lord was speaking 
 
 Deep words of grace, 
 I could see their blessed reflection 
 
 On my friend's pale face. 
 
 The strong and desolate tide 
 
 Was hurrying wildly past. 
 As he turned to take my hand once more, 
 
 And say Farewell, at last. 
 
 " Farewell — I cannot fear ; 
 Oh, seest thou His grace 1 "
 
 THR UGH THE FLOOD ON FO OT. 1 6 3 
 
 And even as he spoke, he turned 
 Again to the Master's Face. 
 
 So they two went closer down 
 
 To the River-side, 
 And stood in the heavy shadows 
 
 By the black, wild tide. 
 
 But when the feet of the Lord 
 Were come to tlie waters dim, 
 
 They rose to stand, on either hand, 
 And left a path for Him ; 
 
 So they two passed over swiftly 
 
 Towards the Goal, 
 But the wistful, longing gaze 
 
 Of the passing soul 
 
 Grew only more rapt and joyful 
 As he clasped the Master's hand — 
 
 I think, or ever he was aware 
 
 They were come to the Holy Land. 
 
 Now I sit alone in the door of my Tent 
 \\\ the cool of the day,
 
 t64 THROUGH THE FLOOD ON FOOT. 
 
 Towards the quiet meadow 
 Where misty shadows play. 
 
 The great and terrible Land 
 Of Wilderness and drought 
 
 Lies in the shadows behind me, 
 
 For the T^ord batli brought me out ; 
 
 The great and terrible River 
 I stood that night to view, 
 
 Lies in the shadows before me — 
 But the Lord will bear me through.
 
 THE DYING THIEF. 
 
 PRISON, and the face of one who stands 
 To watch the dawning day. 
 
 The stars grow dim 
 In those pale skies above, and with a chill 
 And trembling sigh, the feeble morning wakes 
 He stands to watch the dawning of the day — 
 His own last day. Fair on that sin-worn face 
 All night the moon hath shone, the paschal moon 
 Which walketh brightly. And he could not sleep, 
 But paced the floor with restless, weary feet ; 
 And now and then the bitter words would break 
 Upon the tranquil moonlight : 
 
 "It is come 
 To this at last ! All things are lost to me ! 
 And now they take my life. O God ! to think 
 That I must die ! — must die in my full strength, 
 With all this wealth of life, which beats and burns 
 Through every vein ! Oh, it is well for old
 
 1 66 THE DYING THIEF. 
 
 And worn-out men to die ! They sink and fail 
 
 By slow degrees, and lie at last so pale 
 
 Within the Shadow, none who watch them know 
 
 Whether they sleep or wake. But for a man 
 
 To die in his full strength — so to be cast 
 
 Alive into the cruel arras of Death — 
 
 This is a bitter thing ! How dare they take " 
 
 The precious years I might have lived t'rom me. 
 
 And hurry me into a dreary grave, 
 
 And hide me from the light?" 
 
 But still the moon 
 Shone smiling in his face, and there was none 
 To pity him ; until in thought he passed 
 Forth of his prison-gates. He trod once more 
 A well-known path, across the desert-hills 
 ' Of wild Judsea, and by moonlight saw 
 A far-off city, where the sad, sweet sound 
 Of Jordan's waves is heard. The palm-trees there 
 Are waving in the night wind, and the moon 
 Kisses a quiet grave. " Oh, well for him 
 Who sleeps this night so calm ! O father's face 
 Sealed to an endless peace ! no sin of mine, 
 No doom of mine, can trouble thee, to mar 
 The long night's rest ! " 
 
 But as he pauses there 
 In thought beside the grave, he seems to hear
 
 THE DYING THIEF. 1 67 
 
 A far-off weeping, as it were the voice 
 Of one who prays in agony. " Alas ! 
 Alas ! for her who weeps this night beside 
 The Jordan's lonely wave ! No peaceful tomb 
 Has welcomed her to rest ; her very love 
 Has held her still awake from that last sleep, 
 To watch and pray for me ; as through the night 
 It held her eyes awake in bygone years 
 Whilst I was wandering far. O mother's heart, 
 That will not rest ! All vainly dost thou wake 
 And weep for me. I hasten to my doom, 
 Cast off by God and man." 
 
 The far-off grave 
 Has faded from his sight ; the far-off sound 
 Of weeping dies away. No palm-tree shade 
 Is o'er him now ; he hears no more sweet tread 
 Of moon-lit waters. Dreary prison-walls 
 Are round him once again, and death is near. 
 Waiting in silence. And, behold, the dawn ! 
 The morning lieth faint and pale, outspread 
 Upon the mountains gray. 
 
 He speaks once more ; 
 " Life has been cruel to me ; Death is kind. 
 And Death shall comfort me ! I long to lie 
 In some dim place, and rest ; ere night shall fall 
 Like i\&\\ upon the hills which compass round
 
 r68 THE DYING THIEF. 
 
 The Holy City, I shall lie and sleep 
 
 A dreamless sleep. None shall have care of me 
 
 But only Death himself, and he will seal 
 
 The stone above me, hiding me from scorn, 
 
 A.nd cruelty, and shame ; and I shall be 
 
 As precious in his sight as other men, 
 
 And I shall sleep as sweetly as the priests 
 
 From God's own Temple sleep around the hill 
 
 Where they have served Him. Death receives us all 
 
 With equal love ; and, lo ! the iron gates 
 
 Stand open day and night ; the poor and sad, 
 
 Whom no man seeketh after, all are free 
 
 To enter there and sleep. I go to Death, 
 
 And Death shall give me rest." 
 
 " Come unto Me, 
 And I WILL GIVE you rest ! " 
 
 " Once more the voice 
 Is in mine ear. It seems to echo now 
 The mournful hope that Death should give me rest ; 
 And yet I know this is no dream-like sound 
 Of sad Death making answer. This the voice 
 Of Life, and not of Death ; it steals to me 
 With that faint sighing from the crystal east, 
 That sweet breath of the day. I know not how 
 The words have power to haunt me. Long ago 
 I heard them from a Stranger, — one who turned
 
 THE DYING THIEF. i6g 
 
 And looked upon me as I passed, and seemed 
 
 To know my face, although I knew Him not. 
 
 Upon a green hill-side He stood ; the wind 
 
 Was rough that day, and pushed His hair aside ; 
 
 And, lo ! the face was weary. Yet He spake 
 
 Of giving rest ! He needed rest, I think. 
 
 But patiently He stood, and spoke to those 
 
 Who gathered round Him ; and He turned His face 
 
 And looked upon me, as I passed them by 
 
 W\\\\ careless haste. He could not know how wild 
 
 And sinful was my life — a robber's life 
 
 Among the rocks and caves ; and yet He looked 
 
 As though He knew it all, and, knowing, longed 
 
 To save me from it. No such yearning look 
 
 Had ever followed me, save from those eyes 
 
 Which are grown dim with weeping, far away, 
 
 Before the Lord for me, — my mother's look 
 
 Of love, which many waters cannot drown. 
 
 Nor floods of tears, which I have made her weep. 
 
 Can ever wash away. The Stranger's look 
 
 Did mind me of her ; and He stretched His hand 
 
 ' Come unto Me, to Me,' He said, ' and I 
 
 Will give you rest ! ' 
 
 1 had no time to wait. 
 And went my way in haste, not turning back 
 To see His face again. And yet I know
 
 ryo THE DYING THIEF. 
 
 That sad look followed me. It almost seemed 
 As if He thought that we should meet again 
 In some strange scene ; for many things had place 
 In that deep look of His. It could not be 
 T\\t past tliat moved Him ; I had never seen 
 His face before. Was it some future day, 
 When He and I should meet % 
 
 I went again 
 To my rough dwelling in the robbers' cave, 
 And lived my reckless life. Yet for awhile 
 My soul was haunted ; morn and eve the look 
 Returned on me. 
 
 What had the Man to do 
 With silences of everlasting hills 
 In noonday heat, or stately march of stars 
 Across the midnight skies ? Yet all things seemed 
 To testify of Him. On rushing winds 
 Which swept the wilderness, He seemed to ride 
 And meet my soul. And many times at night. 
 And in the golden dawn. He seemed to pass 
 Before the cave, and summon me once more 
 To follow Him. I knew that this was all 
 A strange wild fancy : in a little while 
 I heard the voice no more ; it died away 
 Upon the moaning wind, it sank to sleep 
 Upon the desert-hill ; and I was left
 
 THE DYING THIEF. 11 \ 
 
 Alone once more, alone with men as wild 
 
 And lost as I. But still at times I thought 
 
 That surely I should meet the Stranger yet : 
 
 He had a kingly face, and looked as none 
 
 Whom He should summon to His side could choose 
 
 But do His bidding some day. 
 
 -Thus I thought 
 When I was w^orn wdth sin, and then I hoped 
 That in the future I should meet with Him 
 And see His face again. But all my thoughts 
 Were vain and idle, never more the voice 
 Entreated me, I never saw again 
 That look which followed me ; and now at length 
 The end is come ; there is no future now ; 
 And though on this last night the well-known 
 
 voice 
 Has sweetly wakened once again, and called, 
 ' Come unto Me, and I will give you rest,' 
 Oh, what is that to an imprisoned man 
 Who cannot go, by this pale dawn, to seek 
 For Him who calleth me % My soul grows faint ; 
 Oh, were there but a man to plead for me 
 Before my Judge, or tell me how my sin 
 Might yet be pardoned ! Lo ! the Passover 
 Was slain last night in Israel, but I — 
 A man cast out — have had no part nor lot
 
 17 2 THE DYING THIEF. 
 
 In holy things, no priest to plead for me, 
 No sacrifice for sin." 
 
 " Come unto Me,. 
 To Me, this day, and 1 will give you rest !" 
 
 ***** 
 A cross, — and one who hangs thereon, in sight 
 Of heaven and earth. 
 
 The cruel nails are fast 
 In trembling hands and feet, the face is white 
 And changed with agony, the failing head 
 Is drooping heavily ; but still again. 
 And yet again, the weary eyes are raised 
 To seek the face of One who hangeth pale 
 Upon another cross : he hears no shrill 
 And taunting voices of the crowd beneath, 
 He marks no cruel looks of all that gaze 
 Upon the woful sight. He sees alone 
 That Face upon the cross. Oh, long, long look, 
 That searcheth there the deep and awful things 
 Which are of God. 
 
 In his first agony 
 And horror he had joined with them that spake 
 Against the Lord, the Lamb, who gave Himself 
 That day for us. But when he met the look 
 Of those calm eyes, — he paused that instant ; 
 pale
 
 THE DYING THIEF. 1 73 
 
 And trembling, stricken to the heart, and faint 
 At sight of Him. 
 
 Again, and yet again. 
 The long, long look is fixed upon that Face 
 With deepening awe. Here, in the valley dim 
 Of death and sighing, he has come to Him 
 Who called him long ago. That windy day 
 Upon the free hill-side he knew Him not. 
 But now he searcheth in that dying Face 
 The precious things of God. For this is Christ, 
 The Ion" Desired of Israel. 
 
 At length 
 The pale, glad hps have breathed the trembling prayer, 
 " O Lord, remember me I" The hosts of God, 
 With wistful angel-faces, bending low 
 Above their dying King, were surely stirred 
 To wonder at the cry. Not one of all 
 The shining host had dared to speak to Him 
 In that dread hour of woe, when Heaven and Earth 
 Stood trembling and amazed ; yet, lo ! the voice 
 Of one who speaks to Him, who dares to pray, 
 " O Lord, remember me !" A sinful man 
 May make his pitiful appeal to Christ, 
 The sinner's Friend, where angels dare not speak :— 
 And sweetly from the dying lips that day 
 'J'he answer came.
 
 •74 THE DYING THIEF. 
 
 Oh, strange and solemn joy 
 Which broke upon the fading face of him 
 Who there received tlie promise : " Thou shalt be 
 In Paradise this night, this night, with Me." 
 And thus the Lord fulfilled His word. He spake 
 Of giving rest, and on the bitter Cross 
 He gave the promised rest. O Christ, the King ! 
 We also wander on the desert-hills, 
 Though haunted by Thy call, returning sweet 
 At morn and eve : we will not come to Thee 
 Till Thou hast nailed us to some bitter cross. 
 And wade us look on Thine : and driven at last 
 To call on Thee with trembling and with tears, — 
 Thou lookest down in love, upbraiding not, 
 And promising the kingdom ! 
 
 Thus it was 
 That day on Calvary. Oh, solemn joy 
 Upon the faint and fading face of Him 
 Who died a Victor there, so strong to save ; — 
 And on the pardoned face, what mourning love, 
 What awe and thankfulness I " Thus am I come 
 To Him at last. The call is answered now 
 Which followed me so long. I look this day 
 On Him whom I have pierced, and mourn for 
 
 Him * 
 With bitter mourning. Christ, my Passover,
 
 THE DYING THIEF. I75 
 
 Is sacrificed for me, my comitless sins 
 Are heavy on His head; I mourn for Him 
 Whom I have pierced. Behold, He loveth me, 
 And gives Himself for me ! 
 
 In days to come 
 His name shall be above all names on Earth 
 Or names in Heaven. And He shall stand at last 
 Upon Mount Zion, with the shining host 
 For whom He dies to-day. Thus must I look 
 Upon the joy before Him, — else His woe 
 Would slay my soul this day. 
 
 The peace of God 
 Which passeth understanding stealeth o'er 
 My failing heart. For I am come to Him, 
 To Him at last, and He has given me rest, 
 According to His word. Yea, hanging here 
 In sisht of Heaven and Earth, a man cast out 
 And dying this slow death of pain and shame, 
 I rest, I rest in Him." 
 
 * * * * * 
 
 A Throne, — and one 
 Who kneels before it, bending low in new 
 And speechless joy. 
 
 It is the night on Earth, 
 The shadows fall like dew upon the hills 
 Around the Holy City. But above,
 
 176 THE DYING THIEF. 
 
 Beyond tlie dark vale of the sky, beyond 
 The smiling of the stars, they meet once more 
 In peace and glory. Heaven is comforted, — 
 For that strange warfare is accomplished now, 
 Her King returned with joy : and one who watclied 
 The far-off morning in a prison dim, 
 And hung at noonday on the bitter cross, 
 Is kneeling at His feet, and tasteth now 
 The sweet, sweet opening of an endless joy.
 
 THE SONG OF THE SEA. 
 
 HxWE heard the awful song 
 
 Which the Sea is ever singing ; 
 
 The tender, merciless song, 
 
 \Vhich to all the lands is ringing : 
 
 " Come unto me," 
 
 Saith the awful Sea, 
 
 " And I will give you rest. 
 
 It is better to die than to live, 
 
 It is sweeter to sleep than to grieve ; 
 
 So come and sleep on my breast. " 
 
 The faces under the Earth and Sea 
 
 Seem more patient, and joyful too, to me, 
 
 Than those that dwell on the smiling Earth 
 
 And sail on the smihng Sea. 
 
 " Come unto me," 
 
 Saith the awful Sea, 
 
 " .And I will give you rest. 
 12
 
 I 78 THE SONG OF THE SEA. 
 
 A little struggle at first, of course, 
 A little gasping for one more breath, 
 A little agony,— nothing worse,— 
 
 And then the long sweet sleep of Death !" 
 
 II. 
 
 This is the awful song 
 
 Which the Sea is ever singing ; 
 The tender, merciless song, 
 
 Which to all the lands is ringing. 
 Oh! the Ocean murdereth tenderly, 
 
 With soft blue waves which a child might 
 love : — 
 Only they creep so very near, 
 
 And close so strong above ; — 
 Gently forcing the struggles by. 
 
 Gently stealing away the breath, 
 Gently closing the mouth and eye. 
 
 Till the struggling face grows white in death. 
 And then when the strong and terrible Sea 
 
 Hath wrought its awful will, 
 It catcheth the poor form to its breast 
 
 And husheth it very still ; 
 in the winding waters' waving flow, 
 Swaying it softly to and fro 
 As the smiles of the great Sea come and go,
 
 THE SONG OF THE SEA. 179 
 
 With a hushing, tender, motherly motion, 
 The awful, tender, merciless Ocean, 
 And singing the old, old song. 
 Which the Sea hath chanted long : 
 " It is better to die than to live, 
 It is sweeter to sleep than to grieve,— 
 So Death is the kiss I give." 
 
 III. 
 
 And thus when we sail on the sounding Sea 
 
 Far out of sight of land. 
 And on the gray watch-towers in the sky 
 
 The stars come out to stand. 
 In the quiet, waving motion we feel 
 That the dead people lying far under the keel 
 
 Are swaying softly to and fro 
 
 As the smiles of the great Sea come and go 
 Very quiet and glad they must be. 
 Cradled so deep in the gentle Sea ; 
 For no man ever goes down in wrath. 
 By the wandering, waving, shifting path, 
 
 To trouble them in their home ; 
 Only sometimes a quiet drowned guest 
 Comes slowly down to share their rest : 
 
 For in answer to the song 
 
 Which the Sea has chanted long,
 
 l8o THE SONG OF THE SEA. 
 
 Sailors and women silently come 
 
 Through the winding waters now and then. 
 And the great Sea murmurs — " Amen ! Amen !' 
 In the pauses of its song. 
 
 IV. 
 
 The faces under the Earth and Sea 
 
 Are more patient and joyful too than we, 
 
 For the grace of Christ on many a face 
 
 Maketh a light in the dim death-place ; 
 
 And swaying softly to and fro 
 
 As the smiles of the great Sea come and go, 
 
 Lies a fairer smile on the white, locked face 
 
 As if it, in some matchless mystery, 
 Were 'ware of the spirit standing high 
 Above all waves, in the starry sky, 
 On the silent crystal Sea.
 
 PARTINGS. 
 
 I. 
 
 pWN in the Valley of Death, 
 
 Where the shadows are strange and drear, 
 ^^^^ The midnight air is heavy with sighs, 
 '(yg)^ As of those that part in fear. 
 
 And terrible visions pass, 
 Like winds across the night, 
 Of severed hearts, and hands unclasped 
 
 That /tad been clasped so tight. 
 One goeth forth alone, 
 
 An unknown Fate to face ; 
 And one, his friend and treasure lost, 
 Goes back to his desolate place. 
 
 II. 
 
 Yet down in the Valley of Death 
 A Cross is standing plain,
 
 rSa PARTINGS. 
 
 Where strange and awful the shadows sleep, 
 
 And the ground has a deep red stain. 
 This Cross, uplifted here, 
 
 Forbids, with voice Divine, 
 Our anguished hearts to break for the 
 Dead 
 
 Who have died and made no sign : 
 As they turned at length from us, 
 
 Dear eyes that were heavy and dim 
 May have met His look who was lifted 
 there — 
 
 May be sleeping safe in Him. 
 
 III. 
 
 But down in the Valley of Death 
 
 Are whispers low and sweet. 
 As the Pilgrim of Christ is marching through, 
 
 And the Night and Morning meet ; 
 Whispers of faith and hope. 
 
 Of a love that will not die, 
 And the dawning upon a weary heart 
 
 Of the Dayspring from on high. 
 And one goes forth with joy 
 
 To meet the Bridegroom's Face ; 
 And one gives thanks, and turns again 
 
 To his work for a little space.
 
 PARTINGS. ^^l 
 
 IV. 
 
 Down in the Valley of Death 
 
 Lies the Home of parting pain : 
 Yet not alone in its solemn shade 
 
 Are claspings wild and vain ; 
 On the broad rich plains of Life, 
 
 Where the bright winds come and go, 
 Sweeping the golden fields of corn 
 
 With a murmur soft and low, 
 A voice of parting tears 
 
 May break on the morning's breath ;— 
 Is it harder to part in the glowing sun, 
 
 Or down in the Valley of Death ? 
 
 V. 
 
 Our blessed Dead are wrapt 
 
 And hidden from us by Love, 
 Till soul be knit to soul once more 
 
 In the shining courts above. 
 Their burning hearts might shrink 
 
 From hearts so cold as ours ; 
 Beneath their eyes, which cannot weep, 
 
 Our tears might fall in showers ; 
 Their radiant brows would shame 
 
 These care-worn brows of clay :
 
 1 84 PARTINGS. 
 
 Ah ! it is well that we meet no more 
 Till we are even as they ! 
 
 VI, 
 
 But the living and the lost — 
 
 For than our souls must weep ; 
 For them we suffer a yearning pain 
 
 That will not let us sleep : 
 And ever we moan and say, 
 
 Whilst the stars are calm and clear — 
 Oh, for one look, one clasp of the hand. 
 
 One tone of the voice so dear ! 
 Oh, brilliant seas of Earth, 
 
 That roll so bright between 
 I^ong-severed friends, ye show more dark 
 
 Than Rivers of Death had been ! 
 
 VII, 
 
 God takes them from our hands 
 
 (That seemed but made to cling) ; 
 He sets them far away, in the shades 
 
 Of His far-stretching wing, 
 And bids us pray for them 
 
 With a deep and yearning thrill — 
 With a passionate power we had not known 
 
 When they were with us still.
 
 PARTINGS. '85 
 
 " He doeth all things well ! " 
 
 We say it now with tears ; 
 But we shall sing it with those we love 
 
 Through bright eternal years.
 
 THE KING ETERNAL. 
 
 " A thousand years as one day." 
 " Not yet fifty years old." 
 
 LORY on glory compassed Him around 
 
 From everlasting on to everlasting years ; 
 And through the depths of glory rang the 
 sound, 
 '■*■ The voices of the seraphs standing crowned, 
 
 And glorifying God through all the years : 
 A thousand years of glory swept along 
 
 Year after year ; 
 But on His face who sitteth on the throne 
 
 No hope or fear 
 In all these wide long years had marked a change, 
 And unto Him came nothing sad or strange. 
 
 II. 
 
 The years told on Him heavily, 
 
 And He was grown old before His time :
 
 THE KING ETERNAL. 187 
 
 And it seemed so long since the sweet low chime 
 Of the angel-voices had died away 
 As He passed out from the Golden City, 
 
 Through the starry spaces that round it lay, 
 And down, in the strength of His own strong pity, 
 
 To our dark Earth rolling drearily ; 
 
 And the years told on Him wearily. 
 
 HI. 
 
 Glory on glory compasseth Him round, 
 From henceforth unto all the deathless years ; 
 The smile of God, wherewith He sitteth crowned. 
 
 More sweet, because the memory of tears 
 
 Is in His heart, and dieth not away : 
 And in exchange for every weary day 
 
 He spent on Earth, some blessed soul forgiven— 
 Some face once darkened with our sin and night 
 Is lifted up to Him in cloudless light, 
 
 And addeth glory to these days of Heaven.
 
 OUR SAILOR LAD 
 
 PART I. 
 
 [N the golden sands by the sea, 
 
 As the sun drew near his rest, 
 We stood to watch the stately ship 
 Ride slowly down to the West : 
 There sailed our gentle lad, 
 With his face to the sunset lands ; 
 And our prayers went solemnly up to God 
 As we stood with tears on the sands. 
 
 For the words which the lad had said 
 
 At the farewell-hour that day, 
 Stole back on the golden air to us : 
 
 " You must watch with me and pray ; 
 And I shall be safe on the sea 
 
 When the waves and thunders roar, 
 For Christ is to sail in the ship with me 
 
 And bear me safe to shore."
 
 OUR SAILOR LAD. 1 89 
 
 We watched : and the ship passed on, 
 
 Like a spirit walking in white, 
 Along the shining path which the sun 
 
 Had traced on the waters bright ; 
 And we saw till she seemed to sail 
 
 Right into the glorious West, 
 As when a conqueror calmly rides 
 
 At evening-time to his rest. 
 
 It seemed that the gates of God 
 
 Were standing open wide ; 
 And the ship passed in on the floods of light, 
 
 As upon a heavenly tide. 
 Had she swept through the Mystic Gates, 
 
 And out on the Crystal Sea % 
 Were the mariners gone through the shining West 
 
 To the Haven where we would be \ 
 
 Ah ! many of us would launch 
 
 With songs on the sunset tide ! 
 But we but sail out on that quiet Sea, 
 
 To land on the Heavenly side. 
 To be sailing away from sorrow, 
 
 Sailing away from sin — 
 How sweet would be the voyage forth ) 
 
 How sweet the entering in !
 
 fQO OUR SAILOR LAD. 
 
 There be many look forth at sunset 
 
 From those golden gates of the West ; 
 We may sometimes catch their smile on the 
 sea, 
 
 And we fain would share their rest : 
 But not on a shining pathway 
 
 Which the sun has traced on the sea, 
 And not in an earth-built ship we sail 
 
 To the Land where we would be. 
 
 The vessel was wrapt away 
 
 In the glorious folds of the \\''est ; 
 Our sailor lad was in His care 
 
 Who gives His loved ones rest. 
 The light of that vanished smile 
 
 Ne'er shone so sweet before, 
 As it shone that night in our darkened home 
 
 A memory — nothing more. 
 
 PART II. 
 
 By the moaning midnight sea, 
 Whereon no pale star smiled — 
 
 By the black and storm-rent sea. 
 
 When the winds were hoarse and wild — 
 
 We stood and cried to God 
 
 For the ship that was n earing fast ;
 
 OUR SAILOR LAD. 191 
 
 For we knew she was hurrying on to Death, 
 On that rough, resistless blast. 
 
 On the terrible water-floods 
 
 He sitteth King and God ; 
 And upon the wings of angry winds 
 
 His angels walk abroad. 
 The winds and thunders meet — 
 
 The sea is rent beneath ; 
 We tremble lest their voices wild 
 
 But cover the cry of Death ! 
 
 " Once more to his father's house, 
 
 To the land where he would be, 
 Lord, bring our gentle lad to-night 
 
 Across the raging sea ! " 
 The winds \vere hurrying past, 
 
 And caught the prayers away 
 From the trembling lips that uttered them. 
 
 As from the waves the spray. 
 
 Yet we called on the mighty Name 
 
 That never is named in vain : 
 The prayers were not lost, though swept away 
 
 By the night-wind and the rain.
 
 ig2 OUR SATLOR LAD. 
 
 And the Lord God answered us 
 
 Away on the stormy sea ; 
 For in that same hour the lad was gone 
 
 To the Land where he would be. 
 
 We had seen no opened Gate 
 
 In the clouded Heavens that night — 
 Across the raging waves nad shone | 
 
 No path to the Land of Light : 1 
 
 Yet our sailor lad had found 1 
 
 A way to the Throne of God ; j 
 
 He was gone by the path which the thunder \ 
 
 knows — 
 
 The path which the tempests trod. j 
 
 Not sailing softly forth 
 
 On a golden sea to the West, \ 
 
 Where the way seems clear to the Heavenly side, ' 
 
 And the waves are hushed to rest ; j 
 
 But forth, when the storms were out \ 
 
 On a wild and dreary sea. 
 All through the starless dark he rode 
 
 To the Land where he would be. - 
 
 ■1 
 
 We had asked for an earthly thing 
 That night, in the hour of dread ;
 
 OUR SAILOR LAD. 193 
 
 But the Lord had answered all our prayers 
 
 With a heavenly thing instead — 
 Receiving our sailor lad 
 
 To the Haven calm and blest, 
 To a sunnier Home than we could give, 
 
 And a more enduring Rest. 
 
 A heavenly thing for us. 
 
 As well as for him we love, 
 To have one so dear in glory set 
 
 At the King's right hand above. 
 Yet our hearts had wearied sore 
 
 To see him face to face : 
 It is sometimes hard to rejoice that he 
 
 Attained to the holier Place. 
 
 Yet still we bless the Lord, 
 
 And still we wait to see 
 Our sailor lad in a Httle while 
 
 In the Land where we would be ; 
 For on calm and golden seas, 
 
 Or tossed by wave and blast, 
 Each soul which Christ hath bought nuisl come 
 
 To the Heavenly Shore at last. 
 
 13
 
 TROUBLE NOT THE MASTER. 
 
 r. 
 
 " f^^^^^ROUBLE Him not in the dawning 
 Of His brief and bitter day, 
 
 Dreamlike spreadeth the morning 
 
 On the mountains chill and gray 
 Let Him rest for a little while, 
 Let the stars of the morning smile 
 On the head so soon to bear 
 The noonday's burning glare. 
 
 " The dews of the Dawn are falling. 
 
 And the Earth her moaning stills ; 
 She has heard the Angels caUing 
 
 Once more on her starlit hills : 
 And more than the Eden-sweetness 
 
 Comes over her heart to-night. 
 At the tread of the Angel- Watchmen, 
 
 And the touch of the raiment white ;
 
 TROUBLE NOT THE MASTER. 195 
 
 For slie knows that once more they hold her dear, 
 And from this night forth, with joy and fear, 
 Will often come down from the golden Gate 
 
 Of the Glory undefiled, 
 And be glad in the dark of the Earth to wait 
 
 And watch by a little Child. 
 
 " At midnight her mountains trembled 
 
 As with the tread of God, 
 And all the Heavens were shaken 
 
 By winds from cloud to cloud ; — 
 But hushed was stormy sighing 
 
 Of winds and clouds to rest, 
 As God stooped low from His holy Hill 
 
 And laid the Child on her breast ; 
 Let Him rest for a little while. 
 Let the stars of the morning smile 
 
 Over His head, with tremblings sweet — 
 
 They used to tremble beneath His feet ! 
 
 " Trouble Him not in the dawning 
 Of His brief and bitter day : 
 He is not used to mourning, 
 
 Nor to weary faces of clay ; 
 
 And ye have no voices of angels 
 
 Wherewith to sing to Him ;
 
 196 TROUBLE NOT THE MASTER. 
 
 No crowns to cast before His feet, 
 No smiles, with glory dim and sweet, 
 
 Like His crowned Seraphim : 
 In the dimness and gray of the dawning 
 
 They are standing with wings outspread. 
 With lightning wings, that used to glow 
 In the smile of Him who lieth low 
 
 This night on His earthly bed : 
 Let Him rest for a little while. 
 Let the Morning-Angels smile. 
 
 And sing in the twilight dim 
 
 Some heavenly song to Him. 
 
 " Yet, — come to Him in the dawning 
 
 Of His brief and bitter day : 
 For unto you the Child is born, 
 - And for you He lies forlorn 
 
 In the shadows chill and gray ; 
 And to you are His angels calling 
 
 Arfiong the star-lit hills, 
 Where the dews of the dawn are falling 
 
 On the flowers by the misty rills, — 
 Holding on high the Eastern Star 
 To guide you from the plains afar : 
 For, not unto them, but to us is given 
 
 This night the Holy Child ;
 
 TROUBLE NOT THE MASTER. 197 
 
 And ye must go and kneel to Him, 
 Though your hearts with sin be changed and 
 dim, 
 And though He is undefiled ; — 
 
 " Though your faces sad and weary, 
 
 And your eyes so worn with tears, 
 Must foreshadow to Him the human woes 
 
 He shall bear through the dark'ning years — 
 Must remind Him of the awful price 
 
 To be paid for such as we, 
 In the hour when His sun goes down at noon. 
 And God shall send nor star nor moon 
 
 To shine upon Calvary." 
 
 So the shepherds have left their watching, 
 
 And risen to meet the King, 
 Who is come from the Throne of God on 
 high 
 
 The tidings of Peace to bring : 
 In the dimness and gray of the dawning, 
 
 Behold, they are bending low ; 
 And the sages are hast'ning from eastern hills 
 
 Where the mystic Star doth glow : 
 And we count them blessed servants 
 
 Whom their Lord, when He came tonight,
 
 tgS TROUBLE NOT THE MASTER. 
 
 Found ready to trust the joyful news, 
 
 And to hail Him Life and Light ; 
 Let them kneel for a little while, 
 Let the stars of the morning smile 
 
 On the faces of those for whom the King 
 Shall make of His soul an offering. 
 
 II. 
 
 Trouble Him not in the dawning 
 
 Of His bright eternal Day j 
 Glorious riseth the morning 
 
 On the Face where the shadows lay. 
 He standeth afar on the mountains 
 
 Of frankincense and myrrh. 
 Where the winds of Heaven sweetly blow 
 
 And the golden rivers stir. 
 Let Him stand on His holy Hill, 
 And let Heaven and Earth be still 
 
 Before the face of the Conqueror, 
 
 Whose arm was glorious in the war. 
 
 Trouble Him not in the dawning 
 Of His fair and endless Day ; 
 
 I^et no hoarse voice of mourning 
 Go up from the shadows gray :
 
 TROUBLE NOT THE MASTER. I99 
 
 Let Him stand on the Heavens, uplifted 
 
 Beyond the sound of woe, 
 And only the angels speak to Him 
 With wondering faces, waxing dim 
 
 And bending ever low — 
 As the glory of His lifted face 
 Shines brighter through the heavenly place. 
 
 They are praising Him in the dawning 
 
 Of the endless, cloudless Day ; 
 But the songs of praise they used to sing 
 
 Have died on the hills away ; — 
 Not half of all His beauty 
 
 Was known to their hearts till now, 
 And new songs rise to the angel-lips 
 
 For the new crowns on His brow. 
 But let all the earth keep silence 
 
 Before the Lord to-day ; — 
 How would it be were sounds of woe 
 
 To go up to His heart, through all the glow. 
 
 From the shadows chill and gray ? 
 
 Trouble Him not in the dawning 
 
 Of His bright, eternal Day ; 
 The days of His mourning are ended, 
 
 And the last cloud passed away.
 
 200 TROUBLE NOT THE MASTER. 
 
 'Hie morning shadows were sad and swcei 
 
 On the face of the Httle Child ; 
 The evening shadows were black with 
 wrath 
 On the worn Man undefiled, 
 And the clouds of Death have crossed the 
 
 face 
 Uplifted now in the heavenly place, — 
 But here in the golden Dawning, 
 
 When the smiles of God appear. 
 Let no man trouble the Master 
 With mournful prayer or tear. 
 
 Yet, — come to Him in the dawning 
 
 Of His bright, eternal Day : 
 He bendeth low from His holy Hill — 
 Searching the shadows gray and chill — 
 
 And calling to us alway ; 
 And clear, through the angel-singing, — 
 
 What time the Sons of God 
 Shout loud, for joy upspringing, 
 
 Till all the heavens are bowed, — 
 He hears the faintest sighing 
 
 Of some poor, far-off soul, 
 Who turns to look to the holy place 
 
 While the billows round him roll
 
 TRCUBLE NOT THE MASTER. 201 
 
 And whenever, across the mountains 
 
 That compass the City of God, 
 Some. ransomed soul from earth set free 
 Draws near in robes of victory 
 
 Unto the King's abode, 
 He hears the far-off footstep 
 
 Upon the hills of myrrh, 
 Through the sound of the living fountains 
 
 And the sweet wind's wandering stir ; 
 And He riseth up to greet 
 The trembUng, joyful feet. 
 
 O glorious, tender Shepherd ! 
 
 On the far-off hills of God, 
 We will not fear to call to Thee, 
 Though hoarse and faint our voices be 
 
 As they pass from cloud to cloud. 
 Let all men seek the Master j 
 
 For, though the tempests roll, 
 Each tearful, upward gaze must meet 
 The Shepherd's look, which bendeth sweet 
 
 On every seeking soul.
 
 THE DESIRE TO DEPART. 
 
 " Hadad said unto Pharaoh, Let me depart, that I may go to mine own 
 country. Then P)iaraoh said unto him. But what hast thou lacked with 
 me, that, behold, thou seekest to go to thine own country? And he an- 
 swered. Nothing: howbeit let me go in any wise." — i Kings xi. 21, 22. 
 
 ND thus our hearts appeal to them, 
 When we behold our dearest rise, 
 ^ And look towards Jerusalem 
 
 With strangely kindling eyes. 
 
 And thus we vainly seek to hide 
 With the poor curtain of our love 
 
 The shining Gates that open wide, 
 To welcome our sweet saints above. 
 
 Yet still to them, from that bright Land, 
 Through our thin tent the Glory gleams; 
 
 Already lost to us they stand 
 
 Wrapped in a mist of golden dreams :
 
 THE DESIRE TO DEPART. 203 
 
 For all ! the Master is so fair, 
 
 His smile so sweet to banished men, 
 
 That they who meet it unaware 
 Can never rest on Earth again. 
 
 And they who see Him risen afar 
 
 At God's right hand to welcome them. 
 
 Forgetful stand of home and land, 
 Desiring fair Jerusalem. 
 
 Yet had we lavished at their feet 
 
 The precious ointment of hearts that break 
 For love; we counted sorrow sweet. 
 
 And pain a crown for their dear sake : 
 
 " What have ye lacked, beloved, with us," 
 
 We murmur heavily and low, 
 " That ye should rise with kindling eyes, 
 
 And be so fain to gol" 
 
 And tenderly the answer falls 
 
 From lips that wear the smile of Heaven : 
 " Dear ones," they say, " we pass this day 
 
 To Him by whom your love was given ;
 
 204 THE DESIRE TO DEPART. 
 
 And in His Presence clear and true, 
 We answer you with hearts that glow, — 
 
 No good thing have we lacked with you — 
 Howbeit, let us go ! " 
 
 And even as they speak, their tlioughts 
 Are wandering upward to the Throne. 
 
 Ah! God, we see, at length, how free 
 All earthly ties must leave Thine own. 
 
 Yet, kneeling low in darkened homes, 
 And weeping for the treasure spent. 
 
 We bless Thee, Lord, for that sweet word 
 Our dear ones murmured as they went,- 
 
 It was not that our love was cold. 
 That earthly lights were burning dim, 
 
 But that the Shepherd from His Fold 
 Had smiled, and drawn them unto Him 
 
 Praise God the Shepherd is so sweet ! 
 
 Praise God the Country is so fair ! — 
 We could not hold them from His feet, — 
 
 We can but haste to meet them There
 
 A PARABLE OF HOPE. 
 
 " And, lo, God hath given thee all them that sail with thee."— Acts xxvii. 24 
 
 I. 
 
 UT on a radiant sunlit Sea, 
 
 Where the waves are leaping joyfully, 
 "M And the breeze is blowing glad and free, 
 %9^ We sail to the Land where we would be : 
 V We sail, and sing 
 
 To the Unseen King, 
 Wliose smile on the Sea falls glittering. 
 
 And sailing, singing, over the Sea, 
 We dream of the Land where we would bej 
 And picture the Haven, fair and wide. 
 Where the longing heart shall be satisfied — 
 
 And the face of One 
 
 Who shines as the sun 
 In the kingdom which His sorrows won.
 
 2o6 A PARABLE OF HOPE. 
 
 And fondly we pray that, tenderly thus, 
 God may guide the souls that sail with us — 
 That our Beloved may also come 
 To the golden shore of the far-off Home: 
 For Love will pray, 
 Through her own bright day, 
 With a restless yearning that none can stay: — 
 
 " He leadeth me over the sleeping Sea, 
 To the Home of the heart, where I would be ; 
 But dearer souls than my own to me 
 Pass hither and thither carelessly: 
 
 To and fro 
 
 The bright sails go. 
 To the sounds of music tender and low. 
 
 " No thought of the Haven calm and fair. 
 No dream of the Master waiting there ; 
 But a common sunshine upon the Sea, 
 And a breeze from the Land that bloweth free, 
 
 Call forth the song. 
 
 As they sail along, 
 From hearts so careless, and glad, and strong. 
 
 *' So bright when the sun is shining sweet. 
 So brave when the waves and thunders meet.
 
 A PARABLE OF HOPE. 207 
 
 Shall they miss the Haven fair and wide ? 
 And shall I be there, well satisfied ? 
 
 Sweet Master, lean 
 
 From Thy throne serene, 
 And call them to seek the Land Unseen." 
 
 Over a radiant sunlit Sea, 
 Where the waves are leaping joyfully, 
 And the breeze is blowing glad and free. 
 We sail to the Land where we would be; 
 But Love must pray, 
 Through her own bright day. 
 With a restless longing that none may stay. 
 For the names that dwell in her heart alway. 
 
 II. 
 
 Out on a wild and mournful Sea, 
 
 Where the waters are struggling heavily — 
 
 Where the sorrows of death are pressing nighj 
 
 As the lights go out in the awful sky — 
 
 We wrestle against the wind and tide. 
 
 We wrestle in anguish, storm-defied. 
 
 For the sake of a Land 
 
 Whose shining sand 
 No eye hath seen — for the fame of a Sun 
 That never hath lightened earth or sea —
 
 2o8 A PARABLE OF HOPE. 
 
 We wrestle and toil in agony : 
 
 No rest on the bitter driving Sea — 
 
 No gleam in the closed and darkened Heaven 
 And days and nights that heavily 
 
 Pass over the spirits tempest-driven. 
 Ah, who shall struggle and hope to tlie last ] 
 And who shall live when the storm is past 1 
 
 Yet out on the bitter driving Sea 
 In the hour of our own extremity, 
 Hear us, s'vveet Master, cry to Thee 
 For other souls which might sink or flee ; 
 For Love must pray 
 Through her own dark day 
 That light may shine on her loved alway. 
 
 " I struggle across the angry Sea 
 To the Home of the heart where I would be ; 
 Let me enter the Haven calm and fair, 
 But let my Beloved be also there ! 
 
 One by one 
 
 Let them greet the Sun 
 In the far-off Land which Thy sorrows won."' 
 
 Ah, Lord, dear Master, who lovest well, 
 Tliou knowest that angry storms may swell ;
 
 A PARABLE OF HOPE. 209 
 
 That the great sea-billows may rise and roll, 
 But cannot drown Love : for still the soul 
 
 From the wildest sea 
 
 Will call to Thee, 
 "Save, Master, the souls that sail with me." 
 
 in. 
 
 Out on a changed and shadowy Sea, 
 Where the waters are heaving fitfully, 
 As we near the Haven where we would be, 
 When a new strange Light is dawning pale 
 On the moaning Sea, and the riven sail — 
 A Light that is neither of moon nor sun, 
 That ariseth cold, and fair, and sweet 
 On the shadowy Sea, when Night is done, 
 
 And the golden Land 
 
 So close at hand 
 Sends forth its fragrance our hearts to greet— 
 
 At that dim mysterious Hour of Peace, 
 That Dawn of death in which tears must 
 
 cease, 
 Ere we pass from the faintly moaning Sea 
 To the Haven that shineth glad and free, 
 Still Love will pray from the shadowy Sea, 
 " Save, Master, the souls that sail with me !" 
 14
 
 2IO A PARABLE OF HOPE. 
 
 And the Lord will hear 
 In His kingdom near, 
 And send her a word of hope and cheer. 
 
 He giveth us peace at the last, they say, 
 And more than all for which Love can pray; 
 Will He send a sweet Angel to say to me, — 
 "Go in peace, to the Land of the joyful and free 
 For God hath given this day to thee 
 The souls thou hast prayed for steadfastly 1 
 
 " Go in peace, this day, to the Haven wide ; 
 Thou shalt see His Face, and be satisfied ; 
 Thou shalt know His heart, and rest in Him 
 With a peace which passeth thy knowledge dim 
 Not for thyself alone, but for all 
 Thy heart hath yearned for, great and small. 
 
 " And some shall enter the Haven wide, 
 Full-sail, on the breast of a glorious tide ; 
 
 And some shall come 
 
 To our golden Home 
 Sore battered and spent from an angry sea; 
 But thine heart shall count them, one by one, 
 And leap for joy as they greet the Sun, 
 Till God has gathered them all to thee."
 
 MY WELL." 
 
 ■' He that drinketh of this water shall thirst again." 
 
 N the wood, where the dreamy shadows 
 With dreamier sunbeams play, 
 
 Where the breezes whisper softly 
 Through the long summer day, 
 
 Secret, and cool, and musical, 
 My sweet Well lay. 
 
 The Well was deep, and the water, 
 From some mysterious spring, 
 
 Was ever gushing far below 
 With a tender murmuring ; 
 
 And, deep underground, a tiny rill 
 Stole on in the dark to sing. 
 
 * By the " Well" is here intended some innocent source of deep joy ; such 
 as the beauty and mystery of Nature, or the heart-thrilling power of Music, oi 
 converse with a beloved friend, or the pursuit of some favourite study ; in 
 which our eyes may see depths of wonder, and ever-growing beauty, which we 
 cannot show to another.
 
 212 MV WELL. 
 
 This was my cherished Fountain, 
 
 My ^V'ell of secret joy ; 
 Its beauty to me was perfect, 
 
 Its peace had no alloy ; 
 I thought the weariest heart might there 
 
 Sing like the heart of a boy. 
 
 When toiling afar in the City, 
 
 Under a burning sk}', 
 The very thought of my Well would come 
 
 Like a Blessing from on High — 
 Like the voice of flowing waters. 
 
 In a desert hot and dry. 
 
 One hour in the fragrant twilight. 
 
 Of leaning over the Well, 
 While the hush of the forest touched my heart, 
 
 To thought too sweet to tell, 
 And the music of the waters 
 
 Wound me in a tender spell, — 
 
 One hour — and the heat and burden 
 
 Of all the weary day 
 Were gone from me like the heavy dreams 
 
 That flit with the Dawn away, 
 And my heart became like a little child 
 
 That sings for joy alway.
 
 MY WELL. 213 
 
 As my spring-time melted sweetly 
 
 Into the summer days, 
 I would sit by the Well till the evening star 
 
 Dropped her sweet looks of praise 
 Into the secret waters, 
 
 That trembled beneath her gaze ; 
 
 Then sweeter arose the music 
 
 Of the waters crystal fair, 
 More heavenly for the silver star 
 
 That had dropped and melted there, 
 And deeper grew the forest-trance 
 
 As with the hush of prayer : 
 
 I drew of the silvered waters, 
 
 I saw them glance and shine ; 
 And when I drank of the sparkling cup, 
 
 Was it some spell divine, 
 Or something in mine own heart, that changed 
 
 The water into wine 1 
 
 Then woke new life within me, 
 
 Bounding as if from sleep ; 
 For my angel's hand had swept the chords. 
 
 That only he can sweep, 
 Till the thunder rolled along my soul. 
 
 Deep calling unto deep.
 
 214 MV WELL. 
 
 II. 
 
 There was one who passed through the Forest 
 
 At the close of a sultry day, 
 With a weary face and bleeding feet 
 
 That had trod a thorny way, — 
 My joy had taught me to pity pain, 
 
 And I called her where I lay ; 
 
 Where I lay by the mossy Fountain, 
 
 And heard in a heavenly dream 
 The low sweet play of the waters. 
 
 Which to my heart did seem 
 As dear as to God's bright Angels 
 
 The voice of the Eternal Stream ! 
 
 ' Dear heart, thou hast nothing to draw with," 
 I said, " and the Well is deep ; 
 
 But thou shalt drink of my cup this day, 
 And thine eyes forget to weep," — 
 
 And I offered the precious water 
 
 That should make the sad heart leap. 
 
 She drank of the crystal goblet, 
 And I watched the weary eyes.
 
 MY WELL. 215 
 
 But saw no hint of a glorious Dawn 
 
 In their strange darkness rise, — 
 To her it was common water, 
 
 Not wine of Paradise ! 
 
 With sad thanks, dropping slowly 
 
 From lips uncomforted, 
 She passed from me through the Forest gloom. 
 
 Weary and hard bestead ; 
 And a lo^v wind rose as she passed away, 
 
 And sighingly I said : 
 
 The \Vell that to me is a Fountain, 
 
 Mystical and Divine, 
 To other men is a common Well 
 
 Where earthly waters shine ; 
 Henceforth shall no stranger meddle 
 
 With the joy that is only mine ! 
 
 III. 
 
 As the low wind died in the Forest 
 
 From my heart the shadow fell ; 
 I kissed the crystal goblet. 
 
 To seal once more its spell, — 
 When I was aware of a Stranger 
 
 Who sat beside the Well.
 
 2l6 MV WELL. 
 
 The golden arrows of sunset 3 
 
 Gleamed on the shadowy grass 3 
 And, bending over the waters, 
 
 I saw an image pass — 
 A face like the face of an Angel.. 
 
 Darkly as in a glass. 
 
 My heart stood still, and the twilight 
 
 Suddenly deepened round ; 
 The low sad wind of the Forest 
 
 Came back with a sighing sound, 
 And stirred the stately trees, which bent 
 
 Solemnly toward the ground. 
 
 And a Voice beside me, falling 
 
 Softly as summer rain 
 Into my heart, awoke it 
 
 To a yearning hope and pain, — 
 " He that d'rinketh of these bright waters 
 
 Shall thirst again." 
 
 I turned and met the'look 
 
 Of One most sweet \ — 
 I read the signs of the Master, 
 
 And fell at His wounded feet ; 
 I poured out my soul in weeping, 
 
 And Earth and Heaven did meet.
 
 A/y WELL. 217 
 
 " [ have waited for thee," He murmured, 
 " Through weary nights and days, 
 
 Beside the Well in the twilight. 
 And along thy devious ways — 
 
 But tliou wert content to miss Me ;" 
 And I met His tender gaze. 
 
 ■' Content no more, sweet Master, 
 
 Except Thou be with me. 
 From this time forth, in the City, 
 
 Where my daily toil must be \ 
 And at evening-time by the Fountain, 
 
 Where I will sing to Thee !" 
 
 He raised me up and kissed me, 
 
 That sweet yet awful Priest, — 
 He gave me the Cup of Blessing 
 
 From the Eternal Feast, 
 The wine with hues more radiant 
 
 Than sunrise in the East : 
 
 That moment, beside my Fountain, 
 
 I heard, as if in a dream, 
 The low sweet play of the waters, 
 
 Which to pause and fail did seem ; 
 And I trembled to hear the falter 
 
 In the music's silver stream.
 
 21 8 MY WELL. 
 
 I looked in tlie Face of the Master, 
 
 For strength to let it go : — 
 " The Fountain changeth its music," 
 
 He answered, " and falleth low ; 
 But its voice shall ever be sweet to thee, 
 
 And ever its waters flow." 
 
 And I knew at length, that, if only 
 We give Him His royal seat, 
 
 The earthly music will take its place, 
 And tremble around His feet, — 
 
 Sweeter than ever, because to our heart 
 The Master is still more sweet ! 
 
 Then glowed in the skies above me 
 Bright stars I had not seen ; 
 
 They shone on the face of the Master 
 Glorious and serene ; — 
 
 When I meet Him again, beyond the stars, 
 Will the ecstasy be more keen ? 
 
 IV. 
 
 The shadows were black and awful, 
 The midnight wind was high, 
 
 As I sought through the moaning Forest 
 For one who was ready to die.
 
 A/y WELL. 219 
 
 Till 1 found her, wounded and fainting, 
 And raised her tenderly : 
 
 " Dear heart, I have found the Master ; 
 
 He is sweet beyond compare : 
 He will save and comfort thy weary soul, 
 
 He will make thee white and fair ; 
 Not as I gave thee, will He give, 
 
 But wine Divine and rare !" 
 
 She drank of the Cup of Blessing 
 
 From the Eternal Feast, 
 The Wine whose hues are radiant 
 
 As sunrise in the East ; 
 Then with a smile she fell asleep, 
 
 Upon the Master's breast. 
 
 He is with me in the tumult 
 
 Of the City harsh and dim. 
 And at evening by the Fountain, 
 
 Where I sit and sing to Him ; — 
 Now He wears a veil of shadows 
 
 On the Face Divine and fair. 
 But His Angels whisper to me 
 
 "There will be no shadows There !"
 
 AFTER THE BATTLE 
 
 Y wound is deep, I fain would sleep ; O Lord, 
 I stretch my hands to Thee : 
 Do Thou according to Thy faithful word, 
 And set Thy servant free ! 
 
 Sore hath the battle been, but Victory 
 
 Crowned me as evening fell ; 
 Now heart and flesh are failing, let me see 
 
 The land where I would dwell. 
 
 The Battle-field is cold and silent now, 
 
 Its thunders sunk to rest ; 
 And I can feel the touch upon my brow 
 
 Of low winds from the West : 
 
 The clouds of sleep, the last and longest sleep, 
 
 Are heavy on mine eyes ; 
 They cannot watch, dear Lord, they cannot weep 
 
 Beneath Thy dark'ning skies.
 
 AFTER THE BATTLE. 221 
 
 What time the Angel, Victory, came down 
 
 To bid my conflict cease, 
 And crowned my tired soul with the shining 
 crown 
 
 Of Righteousness and Peace, 
 
 That instant broke the sound as of a knell 
 
 On the faint evening's breath ; 
 And on my parched mouth, like the dew, there 
 fell 
 
 The soft sweet kiss of Death : 
 
 For Victory and Death walk hand in hand 
 
 Down all the Battle-field — 
 One ruddy as the Dawn, the other grand. 
 
 But pale behind his shield ; 
 
 And whom God loves, to whom is victory 
 
 On such a field as this. 
 Receive the radiant Angel's crown, and see 
 
 The pale cold Angel's kiss : 
 
 That kiss has made my spirit faint antl weak ; 
 
 Lord, take me to thy breast ; 
 Oh, fold me closely, where the weariest seek 
 
 And find Eternal Rest !
 
 2 22 AFTER THE RATTLE. 
 
 Christ, wlio has been my perfect sun by day, 
 
 Will be my star by night ; 
 On my deep rest the Lord shall shine ahvay, 
 
 An everlasting Light. 
 
 Dimly I see him, through the clouds that roll 
 
 Along the dark'ning West : 
 O Lord, my Star, by Thy sweet light my soul 
 
 Doth enter into Rest.
 
 FROM DEATH TO LIFE. 
 
 " It grieved Him at His heart. 
 " Then said I, Lo, 1 coiue." 
 
 VER against His Dead 
 
 God sat in silence : for the Earth was dead, 
 And dimly lay upon her awful bier, 
 Wrapped round in darkness; yea, her shroud 
 was wrought 
 Of clouds and thunders : for the Earth had died, 
 Not gently and at peace, as tired men die 
 Toward the evening ; but as one who dies 
 Full of great strength, by sudden smiting down. 
 The Earth was dead, and laid upon her bier, 
 And God, Sole Mourner, watched her day and 
 
 night — 
 The living God a Watcher by the dead, 
 Sole Mourner in the Universe for her 
 Who had been once so fair. The Angels sang 
 As sweetly that sad night when she lay dead, 
 As they had sung the morning of her birth.
 
 22 4 FROM DEATH TO LIFE. 
 
 They sang aloud for joy, though one lay dead 
 In that low House which stood so far beneath 
 Their golden heights, with clouds and stars between 
 They knew no funeral march, no song of Death ; 
 They sang of Life and Glory, and the Sea 
 Of Glass, with all its bright waves, echoed back 
 Their voices to the starry shores of Heaven. 
 Sole Mourner, for in the dark outer Room 
 The Devils danced and sang for dreary joy, 
 Because God's so beloved Earth was dead, 
 And must be shortly buried out of sight 
 To perish. 
 
 Still, — over against His Dead 
 God sat in silence. 
 
 But, behold, there came 
 One, treading softly to the House of Death, 
 Down from among the Angels, through the room. 
 He came, as comes a King, unto the place 
 Where lay the Dead ; and He laid His right hand 
 Of strength on her, and called her tenderly. 
 Saying, " Arise, beloved, from thy sleep. 
 For I will ransom thee by Death to Life ; 
 Arise and live." And He did raise her up 
 By His right hand, presenting her to God, 
 All glorious, as one who hath been dead 
 But hath found life and immortality.
 
 FROM DEATH TO LIFE. 225 
 
 And God, the Mighty God, did there rejoice. 
 And rest in His great love ; for this His Earth, 
 Which had been dead, was living in His sight. 
 Therefore He crowned with many crowns His head 
 Who had prevailed to ransom her from Death; 
 And also, laying joy upon her head 
 For everlasting. He hath made her Bride 
 Of Christ, the King. 
 
 15
 
 "BEHOLD THE MAN." 
 
 -"no beauty in him. 
 
 fE told me I am blind, 
 
 As well as lame : I think it must be true ; 
 For I have striven in vain to see the Light 
 Which dawns, they say, on Israel's dreary 
 night 
 
 Sweetly as on Mount Hermon falls the dew. 
 I sit by the way-side, and they pass by 
 Who company with Him. I sometimes try 
 To raise myself a little ; sometimes cry, 
 " Will no man hft me by the hand, and show 
 The Christ to me, who cannot rise and go ?" 
 And once, some one stepped from the busy crowd, 
 Saying, " Arise ' behold, He draweth nigh ! 
 Arise, and look upon the face of God ! 
 The Man that is His image passeth by ! 
 Behold the Man ! His glory passeth by !"
 
 '' BEHOLD THE man:' 227 
 
 He Stooped to me, and, holding by the hand 
 
 This man who loved Him, I could rise and stand. 
 
 The sun was hot upon the thirsty land \ 
 
 The very leaves were hot upon the trees, 
 
 And cast no coolness on the dusty road ; 
 
 And, lo ! a Man passed by : to whom the crowd 
 
 Did look with eager eyes, and follow close ; 
 
 And in the burning heat of those noon-rays 
 
 They seemed to feel no burden, so His face 
 
 In journeying were lifted up on them. 
 
 So passed they on, towards Jerusalem. 
 
 And I was left behind : and unto him 
 
 VVho stood by me with rapt and earnest gaze 
 
 Which followed after Him, and seemed to trace 
 
 With loving care the very footprints dim, 
 
 I said, " Is this the man ? I see no God 
 
 Shine manifest in Him. As He passed by, 
 
 The sun was never shadowed on the way, 
 
 But smote His face as boldly with its ray 
 
 As yours or mine. He seemed a patient man. 
 
 And somewhat worn with toil, and one may read, 
 
 With some sore work before Him, which may lay 
 
 A heavier weight on that now bended head. 
 
 I saw no beauty in Him." Thus I said. 
 
 He never answered me ; he only stood. 
 
 Still gazing up the hill, by the hot road
 
 2 28 « ' BEHOLD THE MAN. " 
 
 Where they had passed. I think that he heard 
 
 still 
 The footsteps of the Man he loved so well. 
 And, as he listened, my dim eyes could see 
 That, ever bright'ning, shone the smile of peace 
 More sweetly on his face than falls the smile 
 Of moonlight on the waves of Galilee. 
 Surely the memory will never cease 
 To thrill me ; for I felt that I could see 
 In that sweet joy upon His servant's face, 
 Reflected, the fair light I failed to see 
 Upon the face of Christ, as He passed by. 
 I trembled at that joy and love, for I 
 Had found no share. I gave a bitter cry 
 Of sudden fear — " Was there some glory there '\ 
 Oh ! would to God that I had seen it then !" 
 He turned to me, at that sharp cry of pain — 
 " Some glory ! oh," he said, " this noon-day blaze 
 Is cold and white by reason of His face, 
 Which shineth as the light of seven days j 
 And all sweet things are bitter to His smile, 
 Which is more sweet than the sweet stars of God. 
 Oh, thou art blind," he said, " as I, erewhile ! 
 Arise, and come with me along the road. 
 And let us follow Him. T cannot stay 
 Away from Him : I think He calleth me
 
 •■' BEHOLD THE man:' 229 
 
 Over the mountains. Is not that the sound 
 Of my Beloved's voice % I cannot stay ; 
 We will go on. Rise up, and come away ! " 
 But I made answer, " Lo, the mid-day sun 
 Is hot upon the hills \ and I am lame, 
 And weakened in the way : I cannot go ; 
 What little strength I had is well-nigh spent : 
 I cannot go." And he rose up and went 
 With eager eyes unto the silent hills. 
 He went to Christ, and I sit here alone — 
 Alone by the road-side. The afternoon 
 Grows cold ; but I've no heart to rise and creep 
 To my poor home across the dark'ning hill ; 
 I rather sit by the road-side and weep. 
 I think there must have been some glory still. 
 Oh, would to God that I had seen it then ! 
 I sit and think of this with bitter pain, 
 In the deep shadows and the falling dew. 
 As the night falls. He told me I am bUnd, 
 As well as lame : I think it must be true. 
 
 II. — " ALTOGETHER LOVELY." 
 
 The hot day dies upon the dreary hill, 
 And the cold winds of night arise, and creep 
 Across the valleys, and I sit and weep 
 Alone by the road-side, and cheerless still.
 
 230 '' BEHOLD THE MAN." 
 
 The winds are rising, and a sudden blast 
 Of bitter rain drives sharply through the air ; 
 And in the angry sky the clouds toss fast, 
 Wild, broken, white with moonlight here and there 
 And in the white light of that stormy moon 
 On the far hill-side I have caught the form 
 Of One who cometh, and will reach me soon. 
 Through the cold moonlight and the windy storm, 
 Over the stony mountain-track He comes 
 With slow and weary steps, until He stands 
 Close at my side, and lifteth up His hands, 
 As if He had been an Anointed Priest, 
 To bless me. And, behold, it was the Man 
 Who passed that way at noon-day in the sun ! 
 I did not say, " No glory" 7iow, although 
 His face was paler, with the busy day 
 Spent since at noon-tide He had passed that way; 
 And with the flitting rays of that white moon 
 (Which was so bright that I could see each stone 
 Upon the mountain-road), on that pale face 
 I saw the cloud of Godhead rest, and knelt. 
 
 Then He sat down beside me; made me lean 
 My head upon His shoulder, while the keen 
 North wind blew still across the dreary hills,
 
 '' BEHOLD THE man:' 231 
 
 With sudden blasts of bitter rain, and then 
 White moonbeams faUing on our heads between. 
 My head upon His shoulder ! Oh, the thrill 
 Of joy and trembling sweeping through my heart, 
 Which no wild winds of earth could check or chilL 
 But with it came the memory of that word 
 Spoken long since in vision, of the Lord, 
 That they should name Him "Wonderful," and on 
 His shoulder should the Government be laid: 
 This shoulder where I laid my weary head ! 
 And then I trembled ; but His strong right hand 
 Upheld me, and His left hand's kind embrace 
 Brought back to me that other sacred word. 
 Foretelling Him as Shepherd, who should stand 
 And feed the flock of God, and often place 
 The lambs upon His shoulder tenderly ; 
 Then I rejoiced, and rested on the Lord. 
 And then He turned, and said unto the bright 
 And stormy moonlit night, " Oh, peace, be still," 
 (Not for His own sake, though the drops of night 
 Were heavy in His hair, and from the hill 
 Above us, where the lonely palm-tree stands. 
 The winds blew on His cold pale cheek and hands). 
 And, with the kingly words, the angry, dim, 
 Wild clouds swept back ; the wings of the great 
 winds
 
 232 '' BEHOLD THE man:' 
 
 Were folded straightway, as they crouched to Him 
 And the soft moon shone cloudlessly and sweet, 
 And weaving fast her silver rays in crowns, 
 Cast them upon the ground before His feet. 
 So, 'mid these silent, moonlit hills alone, 
 The angels saw us through the long still night ; 
 We heard afar the Jordan's heavy moan, 
 And on the western hill the road shone white 
 Which leadeth on towards Jerusalem. 
 And in the calm He spake great words to me 
 Regarding God, and sin, and Love Divine, 
 Which should be manifest, and of a Death 
 He must accomplish shortly, for the sin 
 Of many ; — He, Himself, whose living breath 
 Gives life to all the nations ; yea, the Man 
 Who is the Fellow of Almighty God. 
 And often I could see He turned His face 
 Westward unto Jerusalem. The road 
 Over the hills was gleaming in the moon, 
 And sometimes suddenly it seemed there shone 
 A Light that was not moonlight on the road \ 
 It might be angels passing, bright, yet dim — 
 I cannot tell, I only thought of Him. 
 So went the night. At length the first cold gleam 
 Of dawn crept silently, like some pale dream. 
 Along the eastern hills ; and the first cold
 
 ''BEHOLD THE MAN:' 233 
 
 Faint breath of morning quivered in the trees. 
 Then He who communed with me hfted up 
 His eyes unto the hills, and said, " Behold, 
 The day is breaking." And again He said, 
 — For I was cHnging to Him — " Let Me go. 
 For the day breaketh." But I held Him so 
 As when a drowning man holds on for hfe : 
 "I cannot let Thee go, dear Lord, dear Lord, 
 Except thou bless me : leave me some good word 
 Oh, tarry with me. Leave me not alone 
 And comfortless, lest I should die, undone !" 
 " I will not leave thee comfortless," He said, 
 " For I will come to thee;" and on my head 
 He laid his hands, and blessed me audibly, 
 — With full forgiveness for all my sin, 
 — With victory, which He, not I, should win. 
 And with exceeding great and precious words 
 Of promise. (And, behold, in that same hour 
 I felt a thrill of health, with sudden power, 
 Shoot through my weary, wasted frame, and stood 
 A crippled man in Israel no more.) 
 " And thou shalt see My face, what time thy feet 
 Stand safe within the Holy City gate." 
 So spake He ; but He lifted not his eyes 
 Towards thy gates, mine own Jerusalem I 
 But as He spoke, He looked to those faint skies
 
 234 '' BEHOLD THE MAN." 
 
 Which swept, so dream-hke, over Him and me, 
 Unto some pearly Gates which He could see — 
 Not I — beyond the dawning. 
 
 I often think of that strange moonlight night 
 On the Judean hills ; and while I work 
 His work who saved me, I hft up mine eyes 
 Unto the higher Hills, where I shall stand 
 What time the years are done, and meet with Him 
 He hath accomplished now that sacrifice 
 Whereof He spake to me, and in the land 
 Of God He reigneth Conqueror and King. 
 And I shall see His face, what time my feet 
 Stand safe upon the Holy City street.
 
 T^ ^'•^ 
 
 IN MEMORTAM.— PROFESSOR MILLER. 
 
 DIED JUNE 17, 1S64 
 
 Hecalleth to me out of Seir, Watchman, what of the night? Watchman, 
 what of the night ? The watchman said, The Day Cometh, and also the 
 night." 
 
 HAT of the night 1 
 
 Great Watchman of the House of Israel, 
 Who boldest forth the Light, 
 ^^^ And, slumbering not, art watching on the 
 f Hill 
 
 Through all the ages ; answer from the Height, 
 What of the night 1 
 
 " What of the night 1 
 Dear Lord, I seek a double boon from Thee ;— 
 
 I seek the light 
 Of God's fair Dawn, my soul from shadows free 
 But for my weary hands and failing sight 
 1 seek a Night.
 
 236 IN MEMORIAM.— PROFESSOR MILLER. 
 
 " What of the night % 
 I would be patient — I will work and wait, 
 
 Thy stars are bright ; 
 But in the End, when watching hours grow late, 
 I pray not only, Lord, let there be Light, — 
 
 Let there be Night. 
 
 " What of the night ? 
 I stand upon the shore of the great Sea, 
 
 And my dim light 
 Is flickering in the night-wind ; — answer me, 
 Watchman above me on the distant Height, 
 
 What of the night 1 " 
 
 " TJiis of the night. 
 Tired Pilgrim through the shadows and the mist, 
 
 There shall be Light ; 
 The fair Dawn cometh shortly up the East : 
 — Also, for toil-worn hands and failing sight, 
 
 There shall be Night." 
 
 It is the Night : 
 The Pilgrim lays him down at last to rest 
 Among the lilies white ;
 
 IN MEMORIAM.— PROFESSOR MILLER. 237 
 
 Rest for the toil-worn hands and anxious breast, 
 In those dim shadows underneath the Height, 
 In the still Night. 
 
 It is the Night ; 
 He sleepeth well beneath those soft gray skies 
 
 After the fight : 
 The Night is come upon him, and he hes 
 Wrapped closely from all earthly sound or sight 
 
 In God's still Night. 
 
 It is the Night, 
 And God has given His Beloved sleep : 
 
 The stars are bright, 
 And, as he lieth in those shadows deep, 
 The Watchman bendeth o'er him from the Height 
 
 And guards his Night. 
 
 It is \\\Q,Day ; 
 The Pilgrim gets him up unto the Height,— 
 
 All shadows fled away — 
 To the broad sunshine of Eternal Light, 
 Unto the face of God, which shines alway 
 
 In the glad Day.
 
 238 IN MEMORIAM.— PROFESSOR MILLER. 
 
 It is the Day ; 
 No more sad watchings by the midnight Sea, 
 
 — No twilight gray, 
 But, crowned with light and immortality, 
 He stands from henceforth, triumphing alvvay 
 
 In God's own Day.
 
 THE WAKING HEART. 
 
 " I sleep, but my heart waketh." 
 
 T is the Night ; the Hghts are burning low, 
 The house is still, 
 ^ And through the heavy chambers come and 
 
 go, 
 At their own wayward will, 
 
 The Dreams that thrill the Night, \vith murmurings 
 
 Of voices, mingled with a rush of wings. 
 
 And going through the house, we are aware 
 
 Of Dreams upon the wall, 
 Of Visions passing up the shadowy stair. 
 
 And through the vacant hall ; 
 And every sleeper, in his darkened room, 
 Is busy with his guests, in joy or gloom. 
 
 Ah ! calm and still may be the sleeping face 
 In the moonlight pale,
 
 240 THE WAKING HEART. 
 
 But the heart waketh in her secret place, 
 
 Within the veil ; 
 And agonies are suffered in the Night, 
 Or joys embraced, too keen for waking sight. 
 
 A cold wind blows out of the starry North, — 
 
 Strange Doors stand wide, — 
 And hidden things, and things long past, come forth 
 
 And will not be denied. 
 Though some be terrible and sad to face, — 
 And the Heart mourneth, stricken, in her place. 
 
 But still she wakes ; and, steadfast, will not turn 
 
 To seek for rest ; — 
 All the long Night her faithful Lamp will burn, 
 
 In the clear breast. 
 Where Angels come and go, to minister 
 God's consolations, tenderly, to her. 
 
 Then come dear living ones across the Sea, 
 
 From distant lands, — 
 Then come her Holy Dead, in ecstasy, 
 
 With lilies in their hands, — 
 And looks, more sweet to these poor hearts of ours 
 Than even that fragrance of Eternal flowers !
 
 THE WAKING HEART. 24] 
 
 And, dearer than the living ones, that dwell 
 
 Beyond the throbbing Sea, — 
 And, dearer than the Dead, whose voices swell 
 
 The Heavenly melody, — 
 One visiteth His people in the Night, 
 Who giveth songs, and makes the darkness bright. 
 
 " I sleep; yet evermore my Heart doth wake, 
 
 Within the veil \ 
 The voice of my Beloved ! hear it break 
 
 Across the moonlight pale : 
 He is come down to comfort me awhile. 
 And cheer the sad Night with His tender smile ! " 
 
 * 4fr * * * 
 
 And when the days and nights of Earth are flown, 
 
 And I lie dead. 
 Then come and write, dear friends, upon the stone 
 
 Above my quiet head, — 
 ' ' I sleep ; — yet far, upon the Crystal Sea, 
 
 My Heart is waking, — waking, Lord, with 
 Thee ! " 
 
 For I shall sleep beneath the steadfast sky, 
 
 So free from care, 
 That evermore my hands may folded lie, 
 
 As if in prayer ; 
 
 16
 
 242 THE WAKING HEART. 
 
 And evermore the sealed eyelids keep 
 The secret of dim eyes, that, joyful, sleep ; 
 
 And, whilst I sleep, behold ! my Heart will wakC; 
 
 And sing its perfect song. 
 In thy sweet Presence, Master, for whose sake 
 
 It watched and waited long ; 
 And evermore Thy deathless Love shall be 
 The treasure of the Heart that loveth Thee !
 
 IN THE MIDST.* 
 
 HUNDRED lights are gleaming on the throng 
 Of radiant faces passing to and fro ; 
 And on gay robes, and flowers, and sparkling 
 
 gems ; 
 And pictures on the wall, where Southern suns 
 Glow strangely rich and bright — fair suns, which rose 
 And set in glory far beyond the Sea, 
 Here prisoned for our pleasure, that so our night 
 May borrow beauty from their vanished days. 
 And men are here, whose names are written great 
 In the World's Book of Life ; and women, fair 
 As any summer dawn. On every face 
 The light of innocent mirth, in every voice 
 Something of laughter ; for the cares of life 
 Are laid down for an hour, and all can smile. 
 
 * At a recent gay public Reception, where the pictures gathered were very 
 fine, there was one which must have appealed to many hearts — a picture of the 
 Christ, as a King, " treading the Winepress alone."
 
 244 IN THE MIDST. 
 
 Now the sweet tide of Music, rising, flows 
 
 In countless waves upon the radiant air, 
 
 Fast quick'ning every heart to fuller life : 
 
 It touches every picture, every face, 
 
 To a fresh brightness ; by its help I read 
 
 New meanings in these visions on the wall — 
 
 More of the heart's light in each changing face— 
 
 And even a fairer beauty in the flowers, 
 
 As the soft music breathes and blows on them, 
 
 Like some rare wandering wind from Paradise ; — 
 
 And the lights gleam more gaily over all. 
 
 y And suddenly face to face with Him I stood 
 
 Who is not very far at any time 
 From those who love Him, yet who seemed afar 
 And lonely in the midst of us that night. 
 We had the hundred lights ; but He in the dark, 
 Treading a darker Winepress, stood before 
 My startled sight. A crown was on His brow, 
 — And all His air was lofty, like a king's ; 
 / But measureless pain and grief had hold on Him — 
 His eyes were sorrowful even unto death. 
 And thus He faced us : He for us alone 
 Treading the Winepress ; whilst we came and went 
 With songs and flowers beneath our hundred lights, 
 As if we knew Him not.
 
 IN THE MIDST. 245 
 
 Had it been He 
 Sitting in cheerful friendliness, as once 
 At the marriage-feast in Cana, giving them, 
 From His own royal bounty, wine and joy 
 And all things, it had seemed less strange to me ; 
 And we, in all our innocent mirth, not far. 
 Not very far, from Him. But here, alone. 
 Treading the mystical Winepress full of woe. 
 In the last Passion of His agony, 
 He stood amongst us on our festal night. 
 Alone, O Christ ! — yea, evermore alone 
 In that strange anguish, even when close to Thee 
 Thy people press with tears : a little light 
 Must still be with us, dear hands clasping ours. 
 When pale we stand before Thy lifted Cross, 
 And see Thee hang, forsaken, in the dark. 
 Then now alone that hour, that glittering hour, 
 \Vhen suddenly face to face with Thee I stood, 
 And no man wept for Thee. We came and went 
 As gaily as the music ; and the sound 
 Of .soft, low laughter came and went with us. 
 
 And now, sweet Master, when my heart is gay. 
 And the rich music of my happy life 
 Sounds on and falters not— when dear ones jjress 
 With loving faces round me, and the light
 
 246 IN THE MIDSr. 
 
 Is almost like the light of seven days — 
 Let something of that pictured vision rise 
 Often before my face. So shall I keep 
 For ever in my heart one silent space ; 
 A httle sacred spot of loneUness, 
 Where to set up the memory of Thy Cross- 
 A little quiet garden, where no man 
 ) May pass or rest tor ever, sacred still 
 To visions of Thy Sorrow and Thy Love. 
 
 )
 
 HYMN 
 
 SUNG AT THE OPENING OF ALL SAINTS' CHURCH, 
 
 CHESTER. 
 
 " Lift up your heads, O ye gates, and the King of Glory shall come In." 
 
 |OME, to bless Thy people, Lord, 
 From the hills of peace afar ; 
 Come, and let Thy whispered word 
 NT5^ Greet the souls that weary are. 
 
 ■*■ Lo ! Thy congregation waits 
 
 One sweet look from Thee to win : 
 Lift your heads on high, ye gates — 
 Christ, our King, will enter in. 
 
 Come, and let Thy glory dwell 
 
 In this house for evermore, 
 Great High Priest of Israel, 
 
 Whom the Saints in light adore.
 
 248 HYMN. 
 
 He has heard our prayer — lie waits 
 To absolve us from all sin : 
 
 Lift your heads on high, ye gates — 
 Christ, our Priest, will enter in. 
 
 Signs of sorrow never cease 
 
 In a world so stained with guilt j 
 And where'er a house of peace 
 
 For the Prince of Peace is built, 
 Lo ! a congregation waits, 
 
 Sorely pressed by toil and sin : 
 Lift your heads on high, ye gates — 
 
 Let the mourners enter in. 
 
 We will bid the poor, to meet 
 
 In this house our promised Guest ; 
 We will lead them to the Feet 
 
 Where the weary are at rest ; 
 For them all His mercy waits. 
 
 Smiles and blessings they shall win : 
 Lift your heads on high, ye gates. 
 
 That Christ's poor may enter in. 
 
 Who are we, to entertam. 
 
 In the house our hands have made. 
 Him, the glory of whose train 
 
 Makes the stainless Heavens afraid %
 
 HYMN. 24y 
 
 Yet He comes, and sweetly waits 
 
 Entrance to our hearts to win : 
 Lift your heads on high, ye gateS' — 
 
 Let the gentle Master in. 
 
 And as we receive this day 
 Joyfully our Royal Guest, 
 
 So at length, when far away, 
 
 Breaks the dawn of promised rest 
 
 Where the Lord His Church awaits, 
 Sweetest welcome may we win : 
 
 " Lift your heads, ye golden gates- 
 Let My ransomed people in ! " 
 Amen.
 
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