. . AND . . THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES STORE. F* B OO1TFIN. Orh&GAlNESSTS. -fl.Z2.3Z. f. JS, (Sofftn. COFFIN'S POEMS with Ajax' Ordeals F. B. Coffin MTTLK ROCK, ARKANSAS: The Colored Advocate, Printers and Binders. 1897. Copyright 1897 by F. B. Coffin. PS 1357 cuiAn Dedicated FIRST. To the memory Of that angelic woman, Who claimed me as her son ; Of that majestic woman, Whose race on earth was run Long before I was old enough, To reason right from wrong; Long before I listened to Redemption's saving song. Of that Christ loving woman, Who's now at Jesus' home, Who sits and talks with angels, And with archangels roam. SECOND. To the conscience of the nation, With the hopes that it may rise To the point of elevation That will open up its eyes, And lend to us a list'ning ear, For the pitiful tale of woe, That Ajax* cannot sleep at night For lynchers are aglow. 75948O They burn poor Ajax at the stake, They hang him to a tree ; They chop him up like sausage meat, From home they make him flee. *The latter part of this volume will explain who Ajax is. Preface. Brief is our life here, precious is the time, and great the work to do, and a few thoughts in print has the possibility of a longer life than a man. " The night cometh when no man can work." How sweet, if it might be, that when the day is ended, we may have left some watch words still ringing in the ears of those who come after us. And I may be permitted to hope that these meditations may have such power, in their modest way. They will be easily passed by but may have a message for hearts that will look and listen. There is, certainly in this age, a want of writing that shall restand brace the mind. It is well to extend natural and spontaneous thoughts, especially that which the heart has laid by in store. We must be militant here on earth, militant against every form of error. If, during the period of American Slavery, any Anglo-Saxon raised his voice or moved his pen in the interest of the stolen and op pressed African, thai man was marked, reviled and ostracised as if he was affected with the leprosy. No historian could write a true re- FUTURE. In this age ideal frivolity supersedes stern reality. In most of our large cities in the South outside of the college societies there are no permanent, genuine literary organiza tions among our so called intelligent people for elevation. They meet socially with no definite purpose to social elevation. They meet religiously with their souls on fashion and God as secon dary. They never meet intellectually. These talents grow up in thorns and thistles. Noth ing to inspire our youths to merit. Position, irrespective to character or ability, reigns su preme. Thousands of youths grow up under this poisonous atmosphere in the large cities. But it is encouraging to see that, from the smaller towns, the college walls(our safe guards) are filled with youths preparing them selves to meet the demands of future times. What is the worth of fashion, style, and social ethics if it does not add to the world better, nobler, truer, sounder, more reliable men from its factory? Time will not attempt to test their logic but will, eventually, weigh the results. AUTHOR. At My Mother's Grave. I never see the burial place, Where my dear mother lies ; But that I think I see her face, Peak at me through the skies. I stand around her sacred mound, And think she knows I'm there; I kneel upon the sacred ground And lisp her evening prayer. Her fav'rite hymn I then repeat, With accents all her own ; We seem to meet at Jesus' feet, And linger near His throne. She sleeps within her narrow cot, Safe "tucked in" from the night; Resigned, I leave the solemn spot, "God doeth all things right." 12 OUR COUNTRY. What an hour it must have been For a woman's tender heart, When the pityless, rough lynchers, Tore she'nd her husband apart. And while the mother clasped her hands And the children wept and prayed ; The whole family made struggles, And shrieked to heaven for aid. The atrocities of Russia Against the thriving Jew, And the horrors of Liberia, Would disappear from view. Mob violence against China, And all the heathen lands; Is far surpassed by lynch law, In this, our Southern land. If we ask ourselves the question "Why do they lynch the Negro?" Our hearts respond full sadly, "They, nor we, do not know." We've asked the wise in every age, And searched the universe around ; But neither scientist nor sage, An answer to the quest has found. OUR COUNTRY. 13 Is it God's will, what seer can tell? (Thus do our anxious thoughts revolve) Or is there not borne oracle, That can or will the problem solve? Are we but phantoms, with no cause, But chance from cradle to the grave; Or those inexorable laws Of which agnostics boast and rave? Or are we orphans with no home, With none whom we can father call ; As outcasts here a while to roam, And then pass off with " death ends all?" No ! let us not discouraged be But hope and ever pray That wrong and inhumanity, May cease to be some day. While the storms of life are raging Lynching wild in our land, Can we find a better refuge Than the shadow of God's hand? But what shall cleanse our country From all this painful guilt, The blood of freemen shed by freemen, Upon her bosom spilt? 14 OUR COUNTRY. When the pilgrim fathers came From far across the sea ; Their purposes were nobler than The lynching of the free. W r hen Washington at Valley Forge Endured the winter's pain, And when he crossed the Deleware 'Twas all for freedom's name. He knew not that a cent'ry hence, The flag for which he fought ; W r ould be disgraced by lynching men, By taking life for naught. When Lincoln gave that mighty stroke, When Sherman reached the sea, When Grant took Appomatax, Their cry was liberty. When John Brown laid his body down And his soul went marching on, He knew not that his cause would be Disgraced by this great wrong. Could these great men speak back today From their resting domain; They'd whisper all in one accord, "Our blood was spilt in vain." OUR COUNTRY. 17 Dear native land, a newer page Must turn as time moves by ; Shall that page be brighter, Or shall thy greatness die? Thou hast a noble government, And 'tis with trembling heart, That we see what thou appearest And look on what thou art. We've wept till we could not weep, And the pain of our burning eyes Has gone into our aching hearts, And now the nation cries. Earth uplifts a general cry, For all this guilt and wrong; And heaven's ears are listening To the suff'rers' wailing song. Who'll interpret this mystery? Even the common dust Under the feet of the guilty Cries out "this crime's unjust." But we shall see the day, When risrht shall surely reign ; When at the bar of conscience, The guilty sljall be slain. -OUR COUNTRY. It may be when Ida Wells' lessons have been learned The lynchers sun forever more has set, The things which our weak judgment here have spurned, The things o'er which we've grieved with lash es wet, Will flash before them out of life's dark night As stars shine most in deeper tints of blue. And they shall see how all her plans were right And how what seemed reproof was love most true; And when those nations far across the sea Begin to point o'er here the finger of shame, And show our state the depth of all these crimes, I think she will take steps to stop the same. You know that prudent parents disallow Too much of sweet to craving babyhood ; So God, perhaps, is holding from us now Life's sweetest things because it seemethgood, And they shall shortly know that lengthened breath Is not the sweetest gift Godsends His friends, ONLY. 19 And that sometimes the sable pall of death Conceals the fairest boon His love can send. And if through all this strife we live to stand Where ourmindsfromlynchingnews may rest, Then we shall clearly know and understand ; 1 think that all will say "God knew the best." Only. Only Afric's jungles Satisfied his mind, While the happy Negro On his couch reclined. Only a human trading ship Coasting along the shore, The Negro knew not whither Still he had to go. Only a "Star Spangled banner," The Negro saw it wave, But he saw not "land of free" Neither "home of brave." Only slavery's hardships The Negro bore for years, On through the wilderness With headaches and tears. 20 ONLY. Only John Brown's body Is moulding in the clay, Yet his soul is marching, Showing us the way. Only Bull Run's battle, Up sprang General Grant, Four long years of bloodshed, Freedom was the chant. Only Abraham Lincoln Gave the mighty stroke, And four million Negroes Lost the slavish yoke. Only an education, That is what he wants, And to be a citizen But they say he can't. Only abiding by the law Of our God and man, And on all public questions For the right, he tries to stand. Only to suit the appetites Of other wicked men, Our race is mobb'd and lynch'd Isn't that a sin? MOTHER'S SONGS. 21 Only proud America Detests human strife, Still has not courage to Protect human life. Only that coming day, 'Pointed hour make haste, She must stand 'fore her God, Past that solemn test. Mother's Songs. The summer's sun was beaming hot, The boys had played all day ; And now beside a rippling stream, Upon the grass they lay. Tired of games and idle jest, As swept the hours along, They called on one who mused at times, "Come pard, give us a song." "I fear I cannot please," he said, "The only songs I know Are those my mother used to sing To me long years ago." 22 MOTHER'S SONGS. "Sing oneof those," arough voice said, "There's none but true men here; Toev'ry mother's son of us A mother's song is dear." Then sweetly rose the singer's voice, Amid unwonted calm: "Am I a soldier of the cross A follower of the lamb." "And shall I fear to own his cause" Every heart seemed stilled, And hearts that never throbbed with fear, With tender thoughts were tilled. As the singer closed he said, " Boys, we must face the foes" Then thanking them for their invite Upon his feet he rose. " Sing us one more the young men said, The singer hung his head, Then glancing 'round with smiling lips, "You'll join with me," he said. We'll sing that old familiar air, Sweet as the bugle call ; "All hail the power of Jesus name, Let Angels prostrate fall." MOTHERS SONGS. . 28 And wondrous was the old tune's spell, As on the singer sang ; Man after man fell into line, And loud their voices rang. One cried out "my mother sings 'Just as I am though tossed about;' And the crowd picked up the anthem "With many a conflict, many a doubt." The next said "I seem to hear, 'It's rock of ages cleft for me,' And the boys joined in with feeling "Let me hide myself in thee." Another said "I'm an outcast, But when I've nowhere to roam, I think of mother and the city Which, long since she's made her home." The next one said with tearful eyes "My mother's in eternity, Her song was 'O rock of ages In thy cleft hidethou me.' Hush'd are her lips, the song's ended, The singer sleeps at last ; While I sit here in deep wonder, Arid think of days, long past. 24 MOTHER'S SONGS. The room still echoes with music, As singing soft and low, Those grand sweet Christian carols, They rock her too and fro. Safe hidden in the "Rock of Ages" She bade farewell to fear ; Sure that her Lord'd always lead her " She read her title clear." Dear Saint in mansions long folded, Safe in God's fostering love, She joins in the blissful chorus, Of those bright choirs above. There she knows not pain, nor sorrow, Safe beyond Jordan's roll She lives with her blessed Jesus The lover of her soul. These boys are men, the stream still runs, Those songs, they still are heard ; And oh! the depth of every soul, By those old hymns is stirred. And up from many a bearded lip, In whispers soft and low ; Rises the songs the mother taught The boy long years ago. SPOTLESS. 25 Spotless. (James 1:21) Spotless, spotless, spotless, spotless, At the sounding of that word, All my soul turned up to heaven, All my heart within me stirred. Would that I could stand out spotless, Lord, I know that Thou hast died, Thou hast stood for ages spotless Bidding men come and abide. Lord, build up for me a ladder, Reaching into perfect day, That my hopes this word may grapple, Showing me the right of way. Blooming flowers all seem spotless, On the spotless hill and dell, Oh, how beautiful they all are, And how fragrant too they smell. The spotless birds, they spring along, And chirp the song of jubilee; I like to hear their spotless songs, They make my melancholy flee. 20 SPOTLESS. I wish that I could so be found, While traveling life's brief way, A spotless light to every one, Where'er my footsteps stray. Once a woman tried to show me Something spotless, bright and new, And she pick'd for illustration Objects of the dirtiest hue. "Lady" said I, eager, anxious, "Why do you choose things so vile?" "Just to show the cleansing process," Said the lady with a smile. Then she said " these dirty colors, Hardest to remove of all, Can be made by constant rubbing White as snowflake in its fall." These words struck my heart with power, Made my soul within me throb, "Dirty colors" "white as snowflake" Can this woman? Cannot God? Lord, I long to be made spotless, What lack I to make me thine ? Not in name but spotless truly, Would I have thy ways, not mine. SPOTLESS. 27 Is there anything not spotless That I cherish more than Thee, Loved ones, money, fame or talent? Lord reveal them now to me. Lord I think how Thou, though spotless, Left thy Heavenly home on high, Gave up all Thy spotless glory, Came to earth for us, to die. Jesus spoke from out His mansion : "Thou, as I, can spotless be, Vilest hearts have been made precious, Simply trust and follow me." Then I cried, "O Jesus take me, Give me spotless, crimson wings, Stamp my name upon thy roll book, Take it to the spotless King." * * # * Oh, what spotless, rapturous music ! Heaven's gates seemed open wide, And I stood there clear and spotless, Near the Saviour's spotless side. Spotless in God's spotless mansions! Spotless in His spotless light ! God's own love, majestic, spotless, Made me crimson, spotless white! 28 MOTHERLY EMOTIONS. Motherly Emotions. A mother* came passing by my door, Her son was near by my side ; "Howdy mama" was her son's adore, "Howdy my son" she replied. And as I gazed upon that mother, The tears rushed to my eyes ; My heart's affections began to swell, My mind went to paradise. While there it found that one model, Who, sixteen long years ago, By the blessed Saviour's command, Left all earth's sorrows below. " What word is sweeter than mother, What place is dearer than home?" These words are our associates Wherever in life we roam. Napoleon was a worldly man, Yet one great thing he uttered, When from conscience clear he said, " What France most needs is mothers." MOTHERLY EMOTIONS. 29 Home, that sanctuary of love, That stamps impressions for life, Who's the heart of affection there? It is the mother, the wife. A mother's love! oh, no one knows How much of life's feelings lies, In those sweet words, the fears, the hopes, And daily strengthening ties. It wakes ere yet the infant dreams It's earliest vital breath ; And fails but when the mother's heart Chills in the grasp of death. Who knows the worth of mother? Not those who see her daily; But those who watch that vacant chair Whose days are dark and dreary. But when I am tossed and driven, And feel like I'm all alone; I think of mother and that city, Which long since she's made her home. Mother, while playing at thy knees, Within my youthful heart; There dwelt no secret consciousness, That thou would e'er depart. 30 MOTHERLY EMOTIONS. Since thou hast gone I now have learned To bow my stubborn will, The power that calms the raging sea My rebel heart has stilled. So I can look with fearless eyes On all these earthly fates, But how coulds't thou afford to die And leave me desolate ? I should not weep for thee, dear one, While with the saints thou art, But how can I in coldness check The burning tears that start? My thoughts to thee must ever turn As in my infant days, While in my heart thine image shall Lead me through life's rough ways. Rest, dearest one, may angel host Their vigils o'er thee keep, How can I breath thy saintly name And yet forbear to weep? I stand heartbroken on dull earth And gaze on the vacant skies, Mother I cannot see thy face, Dost thou hear thy son's cry? CONSOLATION. 31 If in God's likeness 1 may awake And shine in pure image by thee, I'll be satisfied when I can break The fetters of flesh and be free. *Mrs. L. E. S. Consolation. Friends can't you tell me something? I am weary and worn tonight. The day has gone like a shadow And only the evening is light. Tell me about the Master, Of the burdensome hills he trod, When the tears and blood from his an guish Dropped down on Judea's sod. Tell me about the Master, Of the wrongs he freely forgave, Of His love and His tender compassion, Of His love that is mighty to save. For my heart is restless and weary Of the woes and temptations of life, Of all the treacherous conflicts Of falsehood, and malice, and strife. 85* LIFE WHAT WE MAKE IT. So tell me the sweet old story That falls on each wound like a balm, And my heart now bruised and broken, Shall grow patient, strong, and calm. Life What We Make It. My life is a wearisome journey; I'm sick with the times and the heat, The rays of the sun beat upon me ; Life's briars are wounding my feet. There are so many hills leading upwards It keeps me a longing for rest, But he who appoints me my journey, Knows just what is needful and best. He loves me too well to forsake me, Or give me one trial too much, And the toils of my road will seem noth ing When e'er I receive his kind touch. When the last feeble step has been taken And the gates of the city appear, The beautiful songs of the angels Will float out on listening ears. FRANCES E. HARPER. 33 Though now I am foot-sore and weary, I'll rest when I'm safely at home, I know I'll receive a glad welcome For the Saviour Himself has said : * * come. ' ' So when I am weary in body And sinking in spirit, I say, All the toils of the road will seem noth ing When I get to the end of the way. Then I'll try to press hopefully on ward, Thinking often through each weary day, The toils of the road will seem nothing When I get to the end of my way. Frances E. Harper. Tribute. Dear friend, to me one vision craved, Alas ! has been denied ; But thy strong words on page of book My mind anew inspires, Thy noble soul has lifted mine, As rippling waves are drawn; My spirit heard thy words sublime, About the woman's dawn. 3 34 FRANCES E. HARPER. Some mysteries of Afric's race, Were left for thee to prove ; Thy lucid voice, thy pen of grace, Filled up with hope and love Woke the dead pulse of joy supreme, In our discouraged hearts, Dispells the long delusive dream, Makes new ambitions start. The rebels who pronounce us brutes, With conscience all at rest ; Feel the great throb of Afric's truth, That stirs from out thy breast ; Maid of a higher, nobler cause, Thou queen of ancient night; Defender of the virtuous laws Of our young woman's rights. Thy name has spread like night's domain, When all her glittering lamps Illume the vast and level plains Into the peaceful camps Where martyrs keep the righteous post Doubting our freedom yet, And speed the faithfuf, onward host, With eyes on justice set. FRANCES E. HARPER.' 33 They are not dead, those who have died, Like holy angels come To mortals in their faithful strides For country, love and home; Thou knowest the psalms by sages wrought, Through shaky, mythic phrase; Thou nobler psalms than they have taught, Yet they have all the praise. The time will come when this great state, With conscience clear and true, Will feel the strain of human fate, Revealed to them by you ; And from her high esteemed estate, She will throw open wide The portal of her royal gate. So long to us denied. Continue in thy noble work, O, faithful sister great, Until thy mind redeeming words, Are spread in every state; Bring womanhood her honors due, Heal up these long disgraces ; The time has come when woman must March out and lead the races. 36 VOICE FROM THE XOUTH. Cain and Abel. "To thine ownself be true, And it must follow as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man.' Cain was not true to Abel, Neither true to himself, Because Abel was true to both, He put his brother to death. I think how many a hundred Of innocent Negro men. Each trying to do like Abel, Have died his death since then. Voice From The South. To Mrs. Annie Julia Cooper. I read that book, "Voice from the South," I read it o'er again ; I re-read, heart leaped up to mouth At its triumphant aim. It 'rouses those noble feelings, Which partly are obscure ; It makes us see as we are seen, And fits us to endure. VOICE FROM THE SOUTH. 37 It pictures a steadfast purpose, A brave and daring will, A human-needed promise that We hope the years will fill. Noble woman, grandly gifted, Sent to tell the world true facts; Sure the race will be uplifted By thy words, thy deeds, thy acts. Thy dauntless words are great and bold, At times they seem to be Like John Brown's in dark slavery's days, While battling for the free. Earth's grandest hearts uplift to thee, They feel thy spreading fame ; And children that are yet to be Will "hallowed be thy name." From thy book, those worthy pages, All our anxious hearts entreat; All true trophies of the ages, Are enshrined at thy dear feet. Oh! wished for, hoped for, happy time, When I can have the grace, To grasp thy hand, and more sublime, Upon thy statue gaze. VOICE FROM THE SOUTH. When e'er T 'tempt to write of thee, Love takes my thoughts away ; Thy dazzling fame makes all that flee, Which most I long to say. If thou hadst hearing in thy heart, To know how others beat; Then thoushouldst walk where'er thou art, Where throbbing millions greet. O ye whose noble, lucid pen, Forever filled with ink; To touch the hearts and minds of men, And make whole nations think. It may be that in this cold world, You will be ostracised For noble truths which you have hurled At those who right despise. But Christ was ostracised by men, He conquered every one ; Brave Luther faced the Papal den, And he the victory won. So while within this vale of tears, Where sins and woes are rife ; words will prove, in coming years, The gift of mortal life. , VOICE FROM THE SOUTH. 39 Since we are scattered as a race, And thou hast power to write; While God prolongs thy days of grace, Cry to the race "unite." Thou hast been writing, noble one, Thou dost not write in vain ; Thy words, methink, are pressing on, They shall be entertained. Thy writing has a dwelling place, Above this lynching ken; We hope thy spirit will never trace Such wicked haunts of men. In some far off diviner land, There stands a giant Mast ; It waves to you a cheering hand, From heroes of the past. Thy 'lectric voice, whose strong control, As with an angel's breath Can stir the fountain of the soul, And cheer the long bereft. Write on, and may thy words still strike The conscience of the nation ; Ai d show that all men are alike, And have been since creation. 40 BISHOP PAYNE. Bishop Daniel A. Payne. (Deceased). He has gone forth in the light of light, Out of the long watch and the heavy night, Out of the life that was so hard to bear, Crowded by sorrow and perplexed by care. Love was the life which pulsed his being through, No task too hard, if set by love to do, No pain too sharp, if love called to endure, No weariness he knew if love was true. Heaven has received him as a welcome guest, Balming earth's tie with compensating rest, Healing earth's grievous wound with sure content, The sense of home after long banishment. But more to him than smile of vanished kin, Or hands outstreched to greet and draw him in, Or "bonded walls" of amethyst unpriced Is the clear vision of the face of Christ. The face divine, which, in his boyhood days, Seeing he loved and never looked away, Which, like a star in the dim firmament, Guided his steps and moved where' er he went . DOUGLASS DEAD* 41 Out of the life that was not always sweet, Out of the puzzle and the day's defeat, Out of earth's hindering and alien zone, The Lord of love has led him to his own. Douglass Dead? Across the nation's broad domain, On every hill, and every plain, Peals out the muffled, sad refrain, That Douglass is dead. O no, not dead ! for every heart In every state must surely start As freedom's great, uprisi ig mart, If Douglass is deud ! And far across the deep blue sea, Those nations that love liberty, Their minds will be a mournful lea, For Douglass' death. Once freedom's great, uprising host, From Maine to California's coast, Of this great man could truly boast, And now he's dead! 42 THE BAXTER MAN. In every heart of all the race, He'll ever have a sacred place, His name can never be erased, He is not dead ! He's with Lincoln, John Brown, Grant, With Bishop Payne and Price he chants, With such surrounding host we can't Say he is dead ! The Easter Man. So crushed by sinful oppression. Through the ages long and drear, Men began to doubt and question, Whether Shiloh would appear. The Jewish doctors pondered, And Gentile sages dreamed, While on their weary vision No assuring light yet gleamed. But while time's dial was still moving:, ~ 7 God, in a mysterious way, Let man go in his wonder, He knew thedimenand the day. THE EASTER MAN. & And the Watchman he stood mourning, Over Judah's seer that day ; As up on Bethlehem's hillside, They wound their weary way. And the watchman cried "O Israel, How long are we to stand, Under the great oppressor's yoke, To be moved by Shiloh's hand?" When heaven and earth were silent, When the Lord's will would be done, The cry went from out Bethlehem, "A man child there is born." Then burst the rapturous anthem ; " Glory to God be given, Good will among the sons of Men Peace on earth and in heaven." While there in his manger cradle, The unconscious monarch lay, The babe of Bethlehem now born, To have universal sway. The human sea became restless, Earth's kingdoms began to shake, And the universal cry was > ,'*^*er,inuw like that inan spake." 44 THE EASTER MAN. When He began his active work, For three long toilsome years, He climbed degradation's mountain, Wading through heart-aches and tears . But Jesus buried these sorrows, Knowing the world had its share; He opened a crystal fountain, To wash away sinful snares. The more he spread his mission, The more he became despised, He forgave men this wickedness, And yet he was crucified. Nineteen centuries have passed and gone, Since " it is finished" was cried, Every day during that time, The Savior's been crucified. If we ask ourselves the question, " Why crucify one so dear?" Our hearts will respond full sadly, 44 The answer is not here." The still, small voice from Calvary Cries " I did all this for thee," And from the ear of faith we hear, 44 What art thou doing: for me-" THE EAjTtiH MAN. 45 Silence reigned in Jerusalem, Men became bothered in mind, Questions were asked about Jesus, To answer wise men declined. On that lovely Easter morning, Mary and others came near, The angel solved the mystery, " He's risen, He is not here." He spent forty days sojourning, To many he made himself known, He told of a city called Heaven, Entreated them to make it their home. He melted down satan's mansions, He made intercession for man, He gave his peace to the nations, And gave the disciples command. And then along the silent path, By viewless spirits trod, He left the blights of this sad earth, And went to dwell with God. Gates of Heaven all stood ajar, Bells of Heaven were ringing, Angels stood around the gate, Waiting, watching, singing. 46 THE EASTER MAN. And as the Savior entered in, They did not close the view, But left the gate standing ajar That we might enter too. Heaven's orchestra uttered aloud, "Worthy the Lamb that was slain To receive honor, glory, power, Blessings, world without end." For every thorn that gave a wound, A rose in Heaven was given, And joy. that there no roses found With rosy wreaths were riven. In paradise where breezes blow, To cool the heart's hot fever, The pangs and pain He felt below, Were waft away forever. To look at Thee, O Lord, as Thou art, From this mortal perishing clay, The spirit immortal in peace would de part, And joyous mount up her bright way. MAN'S IMPERFECTION 8. 47 I know our stained tablets must first be washed white, To let Thy bright features be drawn. We know we must suffer the darkness of night, To welcome the coming of dawn. But we shall be satisfied when we can cast The shadow of nature all by, When the cold, heavy world from our vision has passed To let the soul open her eye. We come together in Easter service, To sing praises unto His name. Let every day be Easter in which W r e will sing His praises the same. Man's Imperfections. O life why so imperfect? And life cried in elation, Don't fault my God nor me correct, Hut man and his ovation. 48 MY SWEETHEART. The little bird enjoys his life, The ant improves his time; Its only man's abusive strife, That wrecks this holy clime. The rippling stream goes swiftly by, The plants grow undistubed; And only man fills life with sighs, And makes crime reign superb. The sun and moon and stars are bright. This earth's a paradise; But man stands in his own sunlight, As imperfection's vice. My Sweetheart. I went to bed the other night, My sleep was sweet in part ; I dreamed I saw a lovely sight, It was my dear sweetheart. She sat in the window watching, As I wjnt down the street; I threw a kiss back to her, Her face seem' d blossom sweet. MY SWEETHEART. 49 My sweetheart's image was with me, Whichever way I went, It banished all temptations, And gave me good intent. When the world seems full of trouble, When things seem to go wrong: My sweetheart's image is with me, And makes me brave and strong. I return 'd by early twilight, And as I latched the gate ; I saw from the shaded window, My sweetheart still did wait. I hastened toward the window, I saw my sweetheart's eyes Sparkle with a smiling welcome, As the stars up in the skies. "Finback again, dear sweetheart," I said, and stoop'd to kiss My sweetheart' s face that was lifted, It seem'd that all was bliss. You all have sweethearts like this one. Babies, sisters and brothers ; This sweetheart gives us lots of fun, My sweetheart was my mother. 50 LINCOLN'S CALL What do you think of my sweetheart? I shall not go any further ; Can you blame a boy my size because He's dead in love with mother? The angel who unfetter'd St. Peter, When bound in Jerusalem's jail ; Is no greater than the angel Lincoln Who heeded the Negro's wail. LINCOLN'S CALL. 51 And never in all ages, Since John on Patnius wrote; Have words been put on pages As great as Lincoln spoke. Lincoln's Call. You know 'twas eighteen sixty-one, The civil war had just begun, The ship of state was at the place, To picture up the South's disgrace; And Lincoln quickly saw the point, Where he could knock things out of joint ; And all the sight which he had seen, Before his mind began to gleam. He thought of countless human slaves, Murdered, buried without a grave; He thought of the wicked overseer, Whose cruelty could have no peer; He thought of the master's snarling cry "That Negro's worthless, let him die." Rethought of the Southern auction block, Where human beings sold as stock; He thought of mother's wailing cry, When wicked men her child would buy ; He thought how cruel they could be, 52 LINCOLN'S CALL. To counteract the mother's plea; He thought how men were sold like mules, And left their wives with wicked fools; He thought of Christian mother's weep, To see her child drove off like sheep ; He thought of mother's vain distress, To have a babe sold from her breast ; And worst of all since God's creation, He thought of that abomination Amalgamation of the races, On terms that give us blushing faces ; He thought of masters who had slaves, Whose virtue they would often crave ; And she, no matter how she feel, To master's wicked lust must yield; These sights as dark as dark midnight, Made angels shudder in their flight; The goddess of the angry deep, These horrors made her conscience weep; The gladiator drop'd his sword, At sight of Southern festive boards. Diana said with heart aglow, Such sights have never reign'd before; These things weighed Lincoln'sheart with grief, And when the nation made him chief LINCOLN'* CALL. 53 He gave a long, tremendous call, From out the nation's senate hall, And all the North heard his appeal, And marched out on ihe battle field; The Pilgrim Fathers, dead and gone, Pushed brave New England in the throng, Good William Perm said from his grave: " My Quakers join the Lincoln wave." The father of the country said '* March en, it is the rightful tread !" The heroes of Thermopylae Heard Lincoln's call for liberty, And cried from out their distant graves, "If you must die, men's freedom save." Crispus Attucks, whose blood ran down, When Washington was in renown, His blood cried out "if you'd be free, All strike at once for liberty !" Sojourner Truth, her voice was heard, *' March on !" was the commanding word, Nat Turner screamed out from the sod; ** I would thou precious, alhvise God, Had spared my life upon the land To follow Lincoln's brave command, Then I could quickly do my part, For poor down-trodden, human hearts, 54 LINCOLN'S CALL. I'd help to strike that mighty blow, To let my bondaged people go ! " John Brown's bleeding body cried: "This is the cause for which I died!" Frederick Douglass, grand old man, Who aided John Brown in his plans, Who stood with Lincoln and conversed, Was ready now to stand the worst. He used his voice, his pen, his mind, And men who heard him fell in line. These voices echoed Lincoln's sound. And stirred the people all around ; From Maine to California's coast, Rose freedom's great advancing host. Men speaking in the senate hall, Responded to the noble call ; The Gov'nors left the state affairs, The writer left his easy chair, The lawyer quit the city bar, And left his office door ajar; The bus' ness man went out his store, Perhaps to enter there no more ; The teacher left his tutorship, And gave his gun a lasting grip. The student left his study desk, And marched with teacher breast abreast, LINCOLN'S CALL. 55 The hunter left the stag at bay, For Lincoln's call he must obey; "The plow was in the furrow staid, The herds without a keeper stray'd," The fish' man left his pole and line, The blacksmith drop'd his red hot iron, The artist let go paint and brush, And to the army made a rush. Husbands kissed their wives good-bye, Left the children, went to die; Mothers told sons to heroes be, In the cause of liberty; The young man in the prime of life, Left his newly wedded wife; The lover left his loved one's side Whom he had vowed to make his bride, He loved his girl with all his heart, But country's love was now his part; Each son and father rushed to arms, At Lincoln's signals of alarm. The war began, brave Lincoln stood, As pilot in the human flood ; Again he made a long appeal, More men were needed in the field. His voice was heard all o'er the land, A million men obeyed command. 56 LINCOLN'S CALL. At Gettysburg, brave Lincoln stood, And he was in a better mood ; He saw the cause for which he fought, Was plain before the people brought; And on that bloody battlefield, The enemies began to yield ; And Lincoln, with his God push'd pen, Wrote these words on the hearts of men : "All human beings claimed as slaves Are placed upon great freedom's wave." And angels echoed around the throne ; "Rejoice thy freedom is thy own !" The Negro left his master's farm, For he had heard the last alarm, But half in doubt and half in stress, He wondered which would be the best " If massa ketch me gwine away, He'll Mil dis nigger shur as day ; But whats de use to stay back herr, He's killing niggers ebry yerr, Boss Lincoln says dat I am free, Pll strike a blow for liberty!" He marched out like a soldier man, And joined the host of freedom's van. The war moved on for two more years, And brave men fought without a fear, LINCOLN'S CALL. 57 Till Sherman's host had reached the sea, And Grant had captured noble Lee, Then men laid down their arms of yore, And peace did reign from shore to shore, Now Lincoln's work was bravely done, The confidence of Men he'd won, His enemies he'd conquered well, And they before him prostrate fell. He'd kept the faith, he'd fought his fight, And in the stillness of the night When he least look'd for any strife, A demon struck him for his life. He fell a corpse to mortal man, In this down trodden, sinful land; His soul had heard the angel's cry; "Thy work's complete, thy home's on high," So when the general roll is called, Including, Wickliffe. Luther, Paul ; Men who have died to set men free, Lincoln's name on the list will be. And men who dwell upon the earth, Will yet concede to Lincoln's worth, And burn his birthday in the minds, Of children 'till the end of time. As long as there remains a trace HURRAH FORMcKINLEYI Of Afric blood in mortal face, So long will Lincoln honored be, His virtues suns: from sea to sea. Hurrah for McKinley! Hurrah for McKinley ! Hurrah for Hobart ! And the St. Louis convention That didn't mind revolts, We have rallied round the flag boys, Rallied once again, Hear the cry of freedom and McKinley . Hurrah for New England ! Hurrah for Illinois ! New York, Pennsylvania, And all the other boys Who have rallied, etc. Hurrah for sound nionej ! Hurrah for protection That sends free silver Where there'll be no resurrection, We will rally, etc. 11 URRsi tt FOR McKlNL # r / 59 Hurrah for the nation ! How it rings from sea to sea, That McKinley is elected Which insures prosperity. We have rallied, etc. Hurrah ! how McKinley Broke the Mason-Dixon line, Boys, the solid South is broken, And shall be till end of time. We have rallied, etc. Hurrah for McKinley I Who's in Abe Lincoln's track, Who believed that a gentleman, Can be either white or black. Let us rally, etc. Hurrah for McKinley ! Who called upon his state, To help, keep a Negro From the dreadful lynching fate. Negroes rally, etc. Hurrah for McKinley ! Who said he'd have no wine, And those at the inaugural To drink had to decline, Temperance rally, etc. 60 THE CALL ALL MUST QBE Y. The Call All Must Obey. A voice whispered to an infant, Sitting on its mother's knees, "Leave that place for a moment, I want you to go with me," " How can I leave my mamma's lap, And do without her sweet smiles, How can 1 live without her aid ?' ' Replied the innocent child. The same voice whispered to a child, Who knew not the right from wrong, " Comechild, leave your play forawhile, And join this mighty throng," The child replied in earnest tones, " I cannot go with you now You see what I have here to do, My play house is all torn down." " Come," said the stern voice to a youth, While plodding along his way, And many youths were with him there, All cheerful and full of play . " How can I come," replied the youth, " I'm hastening on to school, A.nd if I'm late," my mother says, "Its against the teacher's rule." THE CALL ALL MUST OBE Y. 61 "Come," the voice said to a maid, Just in her twentieth year, While men were passing too and fro, Some in hope and some in fear; "How can I come," replied the maid, "While all of life's temptations Surround my head, and I must be A factor to the nation." The voice approached a bright young man Just entering the prime of life, " Come, "said the voice, theyoungman stopped, As if in a human strife. " How can I come? My days are brief, The responsibility That rests upon my shoulders, Is spread from sea to sea." The voice then sought a poet's abode, Who was seeking after a rhyme, And the poet had an answer Both elusive and sublime. " How can you ask for me to come, Leave me to myself I pray, For the verse which I am writing The hearts of men will sway." 62 THE CALL ALL MUST QBE Y. "Come," said the voice to a songster As she raised her alto voice, And the music sent forth by her, Made the hearts of men rejoice. "How can I come," said the songster, "This world is sinking in sin, And I am to sing God's mercies Into the hearts of men." "Come," said the voice to a statesman, While speaking in the senate hall, And his voice aroused the senate Like troops at a bugle call. "How can I come," said the statesman, While our dear ship of state, Is hanging, trembling, weakening, At the sight of future fate?" "Come," said the voice to a mother, W T ith her children at her side, And she made the home a haven, For her husband to abide. "Oh, I can't come," the mother said, " [ pray you let me stay, For how can I leave my darlings To wander from me astray?" THE CALL ALL Mt'bT LLEY. 63 The voice sent out no more appeals, The baby left its mother, The child with a torn down play house Didn't stop to build another; Theyouth, returning home from school, Responded to the call, And the maiden with her beauty Had to enter in the thrall. And the young man meditated, For he was just in his prime, But he joined the great procession When the voice called, it was time; And the poet, with his meekness, Had to (juit his composition ; For the voice had called him hither, It was due a recognition. The songster's voice was heard no more, The world still had its sins, The statesman left the senate floor, And was heard no more by men ; And the mother left her children, And they cried with sobbing breath. But the voice which spoke men must obey, It was the voice of death. 64 HARRIET BEECHER STOWE. Harriet Beecher Stowe's Works. "Uncle Tom's Cabin." That grand and noble woman dear, Called Harriet Beecher Stowe, The book she wrote without a fear Drove slavery from our shore. To know her works, to feel her worth, Go read that noble book And see what dauntless words she wrote, What fearful risks? she took. It struck a blow to slavery's tree, That burned its very life; It scorched the undergrowth around, And left it in a strife ; It parched the branches to a crisp, Withered the leaves in twain, It drove the sap into the ground To never rise again. Dark slavery rested on the base, That Africans were brutes, That they should be a white man's slave Or dwell in destitute ; It said his sensibility Was not of human kind, And if he loved, ''twas not the love Which with the heart combines. HARRIET BE EC HER STOWE. 65 And hence the children could be sold, Husband and wife untied, And with a mind all full of glee, In distant parts abide ; No matter what the master did To slaves w r ho were akin, 'Twas just the same as with a mule, The master didn't sin. These doctrines were supported by Religion, law and science, The preacher who preached otherwise, Was held up in defiance; The surgeon taught that Negro flesh Under the whip and knife, Was not affected like white men, Hence 'twas not human strife. Politicians said that it was Fixed as the lasting hills, And God considered it as pure As nature's rippling rills ; The statesman, judge and governor Said that it was a rule, The Negro slave should have the same As oxen, horse and mule. 66 HARRIET BE EC HER STOWE. Men divine, wrote book upon book, Forcing restitution, And tried to prove that slavery was A God sent institution. To speak, to write, to think against This inhumanity, Was nothing but a case of what Was called insanity. It was at such a time as this That Harriet Beecher Stowe, Called "Uncle Tom" upon the scene, And made him walk before The gaze of all the countries 'round, She made him speak and cry, In twenty different languages She made him pray and sigh. She then asked all the world who heard His wild distressing prayer, If 'twas not likely that a heart Humane is stationed there; She brought forth George and showed his grand Affections for his wife, His love for liberty, and how He fought the slavish strife. HARRIET BEECHER STOWE. 67 She brought Haley, the Negro trader, Who had no human heart, Who stole the virtue of his slaves, And then the lash impart; Who took a newly wedded wife Before her husband's gaze, Could the devil have seen all this, He would have stood amazed. She then showed forth the Christian heart Of Mister Shelby's wife, Who sympathized with all the slaves In their discouraged strife ; Who wept when she first heard the news From her dear husband bold, When she asked where was Uncle Tom, He said " the brute is sold." These things and hundreds, thousands more, This noble book had shown, And there stood Harriet Beecher Stowe, Between pulpit and throne; She stood nearer the Throne of God, Than all false priests before, And turned the search light on to show The heartache and the woe. HARRIET BE EC HER STOWE. She wrote brave words and spead them, Upon the human breeze, That made pro-slav'ry clergymen, Draw in their breath and sneeze ; Her shafts were sent hilt deep into The tender, human heart, Just like the shepherd boy who smote The giant with his dart. This book had made the world grow mad, With slavery and its crime, Before the bloody battlefield, With marching tread did chime; Before John Brown had died to save, . Before great Lincoln's call, Before brave Sherman reached the sea, Before Grant captured all. She called from out its slumb'ring tomb, Affections of the soul, She armed them with eternal light, And sent them forth so bold Against the greed, the gain, the lust, That these two forces fought, Like Wolfe and Montcalm on the plain, Till right had error wrought. HARRIET BEECHER STOWE. 69 Harriet Beecher Stowe's Monument. She has builded a human monument The walls of which will stand, Long after she's departed from The dwellers in the land, Long after buildings have crumbled, That are planted on the sand. She decided to build for others, And the building sheltered her not, And some who dwell within there, Through all time shall know her not, And beneath the roof of the building She'll have no lot or part. And yet when the days shall have ended, And beneath the roof tree's shade, The children and grand children, . In childish ways have played, And passed from under the building, And vanished into the shade; Some dweller beneath the building, Thinking of when it was new, May say as his heart turns backward, Keeping his a;e in view, The woman who built this building, Builded better than she knew. 70 SONNET OCTOBER. And she, though she has passed onward, Hearing the Master's call, May saj, though it may not matter To her what the building befall, That it's better to build for others, Than to have no building at all. Sonnet, October. Here in sweet Nature's lonely gale, The leaves are gone ; The autumnal woods, all 'round our vale, Have glory on. I roam these woods that nature crowns With splendor's glow; Where the company of trees look down On fields below. This month is the gloomiest and saddest Of all the year ; For in it nature's summer gladness All disappear. Nature all around serene elates Us from the sod ; And points the heart and mind of man, Towards the throne of God. MACRO CUBA'S LIBERATOR. 71 Maceo Cuba's Liberator. While Washington at Valley Forge, Endured the winter's pest; And while he was taking Yorktown Dear Cuba was oppressed. 72 MACEO-CUBAS LIBERATOR. When England tried the second time, To rule this country great; Brave Cuba, although in her prime, Had not a ship of state. When Winfield Scott took Mexico, And captured Vera Cruz, Brave Cuba and young Maceo Were punished and abused. When John Brown died that we might live, When Lincoln called for men ; Brave Cuba was surrounded with The untold Spanish sins. When Grant and Meade fought for dear life, When Lincoln said "you're free," Brave Cuba, under Spanish strife. Said "give meliberty?" Thus time moved on, God was invoked, And year succeeded year ; Brave Cuba fought sometime with hope, And sometime full of fear. MAC BO-CUBA'S LIBERATOR. 73 But God who's always here with men, Had Him a man in store; And at the heights of Spanish sins, He called forth Maceo. When Maceo with courage strong Took charge of battle fields ; Like withered leaves in wintry storms, The enemies did yield. He gave this dauntless, brave command, " We must have liberty And in the name of God and man, Our Cuba must be free!" At this appeal the Island shook, The natives said they would ; And Maceo with anxious looks, As firm as fossils stood. The natives all were 'lectrified, At sight of Maceo' s form ; And they would stand and do or die, At Maceo 's alarm. The Spaniards, anxious to succeed, Discarded warring rules; Resorted to the foulest deeds, Of all the crim'nal schools. 74 MACEO CUBAS LIBERATOR. They used man's wicked, cunning ways, They gave him friend's salute; They falsified to ambush him, They took his life like brutes. But e'er he died he told his men, That Cuba must be free ; The death he died has given them The price of liberty. Arnold became his country's foe, Judas betrayed his Christ; The Spaniards entrapped Maceo At manhood's sacrifice. They crucified the Son of man. His cause still moves the world; They burned John Huss and yet he stands, Before us as a pearl. They killed good Abr'am Lincoln, The cause for which he died Still moves the world, still cheers men's hearts, With men he still abides. They killed the noble Maceo, The world's in sympathy; It says that foul yet implores That Cuba must be free. Y. M. C. A, FOUNDER. 75 The God of Israel's Maceo, Of Lincoln's liberty. Has written "let my people go," Dear Cuba shall be free. Dear Cuba, for a host of years, "Queen of the Antilles," Thy Maceo without a fear, Has died to set thee free. Y. M. C. A. Founder. SirGeo. Williams. Sir George Williams, noble man, Half 'cent'ry 've passed away, Since thou first didst raise thy hand To start the Y. M. C. A. One little room marked the spot, A few common chairs therein ; And now all o'er the universe, Its sifting the souls of men. A few young men, only a few, Paid any heed to thee, Today thou'rt heard in all the lands, Thou'rt spread from sea to sea. 76 Y. M. C. A. FOUNDER. I think how many a thousand, Of reckless, wayward men, Have caught the inspiration, And moved off from their sins. I think of countless mothers, Whose hearts have leaped with joy, Because this, thy noble work, Has saved their reckless boy. I think of unborn millions, Who yet must take the stage, W T ho, only through this noble work Can face the future age. "Forever and forever, As long as life has woes," Thy name shall be re-echoed On time's terrestrial shores. If only I might see thee, To gaze upon thy face, To grasp thy hand, to hear thee speak, Then I could be embraced. I think I could go forward, With brave and joyful heart, Though every step should pierce me, With untold fiery dart. BEST THINU IN THE WORLD. 77 But I must be contented, With thy likeness and thy name, For countless millions now rejoice, Upon thy spreading fame. And I am left to wonder, such That I may stretch my hand, To some still wearier traveler In this same shadow land. I gaze upon thy likeness, As young men's earthly sage, Thv work is old and thriving, y O ' But thou show'st not thy age.. Dear sir, thou art not old, Though half a century now, May write its ragged wrinkles, Up and down thy brow. And even sorrow may with A shroud thy heart enfold, Thou art not now, and no, Thou never will be old. Best Thing in the World. What is the best thing in the world? This question to a crowd was hurled. 78 BEST THING IN THE WORLD. A preacher said "that grand old Book Which beats all men e'er undertook." The monk, he said, "the best of all, Is time alone within my walls.*' The sage, he whispered in a chime, "The best is the right use of time." The fool and idler both did sing, "Pleasure is the best of things." Then the soldier cried aloud, "fame," Spoke the statesman, "mine is the same." Then a maid told her selection, "Why of course its my complexion." Said a young man, "there are two things, A woman's beauty, and how she sings." A mother, playing with some curls, Said that "the best thing in the world; Is this darling here in my arms, Which we and angels hold as charms." Then the wee baby gave its choice, And it seemed like an angel's voice; "The bes ting dat eber was or is, Is when my mama dives me a tiss." FROM DEGRADATION TO EDUCATION. 79 Conscience whispers and this is heard, "Kindness, kindness, that is the word." From Degradation Through Supplication to Education, The Negro. I was once far from civilization, As vile as a Negro could be ; I wondered if all the creation, Could save a poor Negro like me. I wandered on in the darkness, Not a ray of light could I see; And it filled my heart with sadness, No hope for a Negro like me. But by the wondrous work of God, The world's second Moses came; And through the sea of civil strife, Brought liberty instead of shame. From then I started out in life, To make a race pride mark ; But prejudice from my enemies, Kept holding me in the dark. 80 FROM DEGRADATION TO EDUCATION. And yet within that self same race, There are some valiant men ; Who gave both their time and means, To remove this dreadful sin. My enemies both reared and kicked, I could only wait and trust ; But good men defended my cause, Like Doctors Hartzell and Rust. "Shall the Negro be educated?" Is being discussed by some; But while they are discussing, The good work's being done. No longer in darkness I wander, Education is shining on me; And unto my brothers I'm trying, To give an education free. Dear Lord, I'll e'er give thanks to Thee, For Thy unspeakable gift, In bringing me out of darkness, And allowing a chance to lift. And with my thanks I ask Thy aid, For those in degradation, That they may share e'en with me, In Christian education. THE MODEL GIRL. 81 The Model Girl. ToS A model girl, pure from her birth, No one can estimate her worth, And on this dark and sinful earth She's needed. She goes to church and Sunday school, The Bible is her vestibule, And fam'lv prayers, her mother's rule She loves them. She always tries to do the right, And if you try to blur and blight, She'll hit you with the Christian light She's candid. Sometimes, before she thinks, she speaks. You know in this a woman's weak, Hut if you will explain the freak She'll listen. And if she sees immoral trash, She treats it very cool and rash, And all her soul seems in a flash She shuns it. 82 THE MODEL GIliL. She knows the evils of the land, She knows the wicked ways of man, She takes a high and lofty stand She dreads them. She knows if woman stands aloft, The wicked men will scorn and scoff, And yet when they desire betroth She charms them. She knows that if she mingles low, The evil class will treat her so, And those who try to upward soar Will shun her. She's never wrecked herself at all, At these low dissipating balls Where women dance and virtue falls She scorns them. She never goes in public places, Where men and women's evil faces Are ever looking for disgraces She fears them. She never strolls the streets alone, Whene'er the sun has ceased to roam And all the stars so brightly shone She waives it. TIIK MODEL GIRL. 83 When men put on an outside show, To see if woman won't adore, While to virtue his heart's a foe She's vex-ed. She gives pleasure a reverent touch, She never tries to know too much Of foolishness, gab and all su< h She's seen these. Pure literature attracts her eyes, Trash novels she detests, despise, She sees the future, hears its cries "Protect us!" She knows contentment is decay, That discontent brings brighter days By men and women's thriving ways She's busy. She knows that early fragrance flees, The deepest cup hath still its lees, And she thinks there's a "yet to be" She's hopeful. She sometimes walks in slip'ry places, But pride with all its charming graces, Makes all the evil-minded fices Respect her. 84 THE MODEL GIllL. Sometimes her mind is fluctuation, Sometimes her soul is detestation, Sometimes her heart is admiration She usurps. You see her as she skips along, She has not thought of any wrong, She's firm for right, well tried and strong She's dauntless. She never has that vain belief That someone's watching her as chief And asking every one in brief "Who is she?" There's a secret she calls her own, A myst'ry to most young girls unknown, And 'gainst the outside worldly tone o / It cheers her. She knows the rock once cleft for all, She stands where'er its shadows fall, And when she leans upon its walls She's strengthened. It makes the blessed Savior smile To see a trusty, faithful child Go through the world pure, undefined- - She knows it. TITR MODEL GIRL. 85 The eye may try to be a charm, But from the heart's imperial throng, Come penciled lines of right and wrong She's cautious. Time's etching gives her tone of thought, God's etching shows divinely bought Soul stenciled by the spirit taught She's fix-ed. Her sisters all should imitate, Her brothers should appreciate, Her father should reconsecrate And mother. I hope her Christian spirit bold Will dwell where summer seasons roll, And cheerful hearts will ne'er grow old She'll like it. And when time's clouds have all gone by, And she has quit the world of sighs, I hope the place beyond the skies Will take her. Now some of you who read these lines, May try to form within your minds, The reason why I write this rhyme I like her. 86 THE MODEL GIRL. Well I guess that it must be true, And if you knew her as I do, I think you'd kinder like her too- She earns it. Oh, somewhere in this shadowed land, A host of shining angels stand ; Somewhere the sun is shining bright, And hearts are made of burdens, light ; Somewhere the little children shout And walk the streets, their hearts are stout; Somewhere the evil hearts of men That tempt the little ones to sin Are counted as a wicked shame, And wicked men will be refrained From doing evil, dirty work, Which, from the young ones, virtue jerk ; Somewhere good people congregate And leave off those who dissipate And make them have a strong desire To quit their ways and come up higher: Somewhere young men appreciate The girl who shuns all future fates; Somewhere good deeds are recognized, And virtue counted as a prize; LOVE'S LABOR LOST. 87 Somewhere the angels hover 'round To dedicate the earthly town Because it tries to do the right And keep the Lord's will e'er in sight; Oh, somewhere there's security To live a life of purity, Not our town. Love's Labor Lost. Sweetheart, you know what true love is, You know we have loved each other, You know that we have sometimes felt As near as sister and brother. You know, my dear, the time has been When to be in each other's sight And to talk, and hear each other talk To both our hearts was delight. You know it has not been so long Since we, in saying good night Would fondly hug and kiss each other, Oh my! what a change tonight! Can it be true that some one else Hah entered into your heart, And tells me that from this time on I shall have no lot or part? 88 DECEPTION. Can it be true that all my love, Of which I so proudly boast, Is drift-wood on the restless sea And my task, "Love's labor lost ?" Deception. Well, dearest one, I hope my heart Will stop its bitter sigh, Because it never more can share Thy glorious destiny; My love has never sought reward, 'Twas joy enough for me To dwell alone at certain times And cherish thoughts of thee. My mother to her child once gave Affection's untold wealth, Since then I've seen the swift decay Of hope, and joy, and health ; 1 murmured not, at heaven's decree, Though thus of all bereft, When you and I began to love A world of bliss was left. DECKPTWN. Though other ties thy heart now bind While we but drift apart, Yet, am I sinning if I hide Thine image in my heart? So sweet, so holy was the spell By love around me cast That I am blinded to all love Since this, my charm, has past, I feel that you another love, Yet there's a heavy trace, And all the love of others Those bright tints can't efface. I hope his lot a joyous one If you his fate control, I'll try to seek a higher fate The union of the soul. The time was, when I looked on thee As God sent future bride, And had a longing in my heart To thus be satisfied; But it is best for you and I If we are not to wed, To know before we go too far Upon the lover's tread. LOVE HKGATNED, Farewell, beloved one, when thy brow The etipid crown shall bind, And when, somewhere in life's abode You and someone combine, Then think of one who looked on thee With more than human pride, And glories in the thought that you Are someone's rightful bride. Love Regained If it is really true that I have grieved thee, You whom my soul has always loved the best, Can you not come to me once more forgiving, And lay your head again upon my breast? Last night when I in grief and sorrow left you, And heajtd the rapid slam of your screen door ; I felt that I toward my doom was going, And love and joy would be mine nevermore. The thought that caused my heart to bleed most freely: I've always tried to go the true love's route, And then to think my only heart's affection, Myself and word did disbelieve and doubt. LOVE HKQAINED. 01 And then I felt that sill my earthly efforts, Were wasted and what we call human life, Was nothing but a sea of disappointment, Of myth and pain, of sorrow, grief and strife. Hut since I have received from you a letter, Which says that you have called me back again, A heavy mist has gathered up before me, When it is gone F hope there'll be no pain. If I had known how sadly I should grieve you, If I had thought that it was the last, There's njthin* in the world had made me leave you, And now, dear heart, I hope the gloom is past. Can you not see how I have missed you, dear est, How I regret I ever gave you pain ; How heretofore I held you first and nearest f love, may I say you are mine again? 1 will be kinder to you. I was fretful; Life had so much that was too hard to bear, I did not understand how self -forgetful, Your love had lightened every pain and care. 92 LnVK AND FEAR CONTEST. We grow too sure of those who never give us A single anxious thought; they are our own: I did not dream how much I really loved you, Until I thought my priceless treasure gone. I hate to think of sorrow's painful palace, I could not stand to think that you were there; I felt that you w r ere passing, while I love you, Beyond me, among men that you could bear. Yet, if 'tis true that you are still my lover, Your own pure life no mocking chance has known ; Can you not now sweet consolation give me, For grief and doubt that have so bitter grown ? Can you not just for my sake once more kiss me ; And we'll forget the words that gave us pain, They haunt me now, and that you love and miss me, May we now call our doubts true love regain ed? Love and Pear Contest. They say that in each human heart, There is an unseen battle-field, Ton which two fighting forces meet, And neither one consents to vield. LOVE AND FEAR CONTEST. 98 I don't know who those forces are, There's love and hatred, hope and fear, There's laughter with his great bazaar, There's sorrow with its bitter tear. Once love stepped out upon my breast, And gazing at the vacant skies; Had thoughts of one it thinks the best, And this is what, aloud it cried: Just thoughts of her is music sweet, Dear A. V. : Oh be still my heart; And darling with what joy it speaks. Oh, how it makes my senses start. I must confess it rolls along, In scintillating streams of bliss ; Until it mingles with my song And thrills me like a pulsing kiss. Then fear came forth upon the scene, And said "beware of passive bliss; For things are not just what they seem," Then love replied in words like this: I recognize the Christian plan, This earthly life is built upon ; It gives a wife toev'ry man, And I'll be satisfied with one. 94 FIXED L Yes surely I'll be satisfied, If I can get the one I love ; The one who's taken away my heart, And carries it where'er she roves. But fear, I trembled at one thought; If she consents to be my bride, What, oh what, if I can't supply The things to make her satisfied. Could I be happy? No, not I, I'd rather be adrift at sea, With the storms around me raging, And no one there to care for me. But I will do the best I can, The noblest precepts to obey ; But sometimes tides of fierce desires, Around my heart doth surge and sway. I must restrain the thoughts I feel, Now glowing in my fervent breast; They're not conducive to my weal, Simply a love and fear contest. Fixed Love. You know that I love you, yet bid me adieu, Can happiness live when absent from you? Will sleep on my eyelids e'er sweetly alight When greeted no more by a tender good night? NEW YKAK8 GREETING. 95 Oh, never, for deep is the record enshrined, Thy look' and thy voice will survive in my mind ; Though age may the treasure of memory remove Unshaken shall flourish the thought that 1 love. Through life's winding valley, in anguish, in rest, Exalted in joy, or by sorrow depressed; Just place in the mirror that lies on my heart Thine image shall never one moment depart. When time, life, and all that we mortals hold dear, Like visions, like dreams, shall at last disap pear, Though raised among seraphs to realms above, Unshaken shall flourish thethought that Hove. New Year's Greeting. To a loved one. As this is the first of the year, And I am all alone, I thought I'd try to draw me near To thee, my dear, my own. Yes, I'm alone, and don't you know I do not like to speak, Yet I will, as 'tis fitting now, My wanted silence break. 96 NEW YEAR'S QREETIKQ. There is a love that in my soul Burns silent and alone; It kindles flames around my heart, You know that heart's your own. The dearest idol I have known Is my dear Lord above; The next one which I long to own Is you, my precious love. I call myself both chaste and pure, And free from passions low ; Hence I know what I say is true, For conscience speaketh so. Thy Christian spirit I do prize, For this I've surely seen ; For this thou'rt precious to my eyes As gold and jewels sheen. Thy sweet face I esteem indeed, So modest and so kind; Its presence I forever need, May I call that face mine ? I've never written such a poem To mortal girl before, Because I've never loved a woman As the one I now adore. Mr as SNOW /'/.. \KK AND THE LOVERS. 97 During the year that's past and gone, I've launched in a new field: That tender chord broke with a song, And now to love I yield. As I review my past year's work, Some things I've left undone; And yet I feel that I have gained, If your confidence I've won. I hope that I have not done that To bring thee any pain ; For all I've done was done in love, Dear, is my love in vain? Throughout the year of ninety If lovers still we be; Let's have that love that warms both hearts And let our minds be free. Miss Snow Flake and the Lovers. Little Miss Snow Flake came to town All dressed up in a velvet gown ; And nobody looked so fresh and fail- As little Miss Snow Fl.-iUc, I declare. 98 MISS SNOW FLAKE AND THE LOVE US. Out of the cozy cloud she stepped, Where most all of the snowflakes slept ; She thought her beauty would ne'er be known tf If in a crowd, so she came alone. All alone from the great blue sky Where the swift clouds went scudding by, All the way from the bright abode Down somewhere near the city road. There she rested near out of breath, And there she speed'ly met her death; And nobody could exactly tell .lust where little Miss Snow Flake fell. But a very prominent young man, Both for love and his heart's command Was out that night to see his girl, Whenthe Miss Snow Flake gave her twirl. So when the young man said he'd go, He op'd the door and cried out "O!" And he fell back most out of breath And almost scared his girl to death. That Miss Snow Flake of whom we speak, Had struck the young man on the cheek; His shoes were of the patent kind, His overcoat he'd left behind. THE TRIP I WOULD LIKE. 99 And s"he says: "What's the matter dear?" He says, "See how it snows out here," And if I have to go out doors, I'll get frost bitten on the nose." These two did love from depth of heart; In danger's realm they could not part; And now I ask both men and maids, Whether this man went home or stayed. The Trip I Would Like to Take. Man has a curious appetite, He's all the time wishing to go; And if he had the wings of a kite, He'd travel this wide world o'er. Sometime I'd like to go away, Far over the Rocky Mountains ; Where the rainbows dance on silvry rays, Of California's fountain. In the rocks below, in the trees above, In the brooklet and the river I could read and know that God is love, And of all good things the giver. 100 THE Tltll* f WOULD LIKE. I would like to go to the Yellowstone, And witness the giant geysers; To see its grandure there alone, Would surely make me wiser. For in the roar the hissing stream, As it issues from the crater; I could there learn more of the bound less theme, Of a kind and wise Creator. Then I would go to the great Black Hills, Across the plains of Dakota; And take a stroll to the rippling rills, And lakes of Minnesota. I would sit on lake Itaska's shore Where the Mississippi rises; And Minnehaha's laughing roar Would till me with glad surprises. Id go to the ' Dreaaiy city," Well yes, and while I was there ; I'd make myself a committee, To witness the ruins of the fair. I would journey then to Southern climes, 'Mid Florida's blooming bowers; There to sea God's work sublime, In the beautiful, fragrant flowers. 7V/ A' '/'A'/ /> / \\'.v/-: WITH JKsri*. 105 Over the hills and dales, Jesus, in the shadow ing rool of dav, COMICS the echo low of long ago the tendorest things to say. And I smile anew as the twilight conies to ban ish 1113- long despair With a thought of You that is sweet and pure and wonder if You will care. Something speaks to me, Jesus, the breex- es are singing low, Something that thrills the conscience, Lord, and gives them a brighter glow; Something that soothes the pinching pain I have patiently learned to wear, Through the endless day on the sweet high way, it seems, Lord, that you are there. Then Jesus said "I'm with you now, and will be with you always, We'll go together and make things better along the sweet highway," We strolled through the meadows together, the days seemed endless fair, lie told me of His home on high and the inanv mansions there. 106 MY BIBLE, My Bible. From Santa Glaus' most sacred nook, Came forth this little prayerful book, On Christmas day. As the old year is past and gone, And the new year begins with song, I'll read its ray. As we look back o'er our past lives. And see from whence blessings derived, We all should pray. Oh ! who so brave with earthly care, As not to give an humble prayer, Some part of day ? What heart so clear, so pure within, That needeth not some check from sin, Needs not to pray ? Mid each day's anger, what retreats, More needful than the mercy seat, On that last day ? What thoughts more dear than that our O God, His face should hide And say through life's swelling tide, No time to hear? MY RtnLK. 107 You have launched your boat on life's gid- * dy sea, And your ;ill is afloat for eternity, When you have no time to pray. You have chosen the world, with its mis named pleasures; You have chosen the world before heav en's own treasures, If you have no time to pray. When the stars are concealed, the rudder gone, Heaven will be sealed to the wandering one, Who ha* no time to pray. The grave shall yield its prize when from the wondering skies, Christ shall with wondering angels come, to wake those sleeping in the tomb, Then you'll have no time to pray. Oh ! may it ever be said, that this book, by us, shall be read, And, may we all together meet, Embrac ing the Redeemer's feet, For we have time to pray. 108 FASHION. Fashion. Master of the woman's kingdom. What is this men say of thee? Thou art what the woman honors, Thou art all some care to be! And they say, you're loved by many, Loved too often, loved too well, Just as if there could be any Over loving in thy swell. Sir, no doubt these dear good people, Were you not their earthly God, Could fruild them a Christian steeple Up to heaven, without a hod. _ Toa and Solomon the wise man, Are two fellows of a kind, Just to please the wants of woman, You would leave your soul behind. And those sisters that can't catch you, What a plight they must be in ! For the song you sing oft leads them To commit an awful sin. Now all wicked aspirations, Do not spring from souls depraved Into fashion.- Its elation Is the sanctity it craved. 19 In the world's long reign of struggles, Thou hast played an active part ; Hast thou during all thy journey, Mended up a broken heart? Thou hast found some so despondent, Who the name of God despise; Hast thou tried to once control by Pointing over to Paradise? When thou tindest men and women, Struggling for the higher life, Dost thou lend a hand to help them? No, thou causest human strife ! Woman tries to be thy servant, Disobeys dame Nature's laws, Ere she reaches thirty summers, Shattered frame and sunken jaws. Ere she comes to age of duty, Her own grave she's quickly dug, Simply 'cause thy longing beauty. Keeps her body in a shrug. You go with them to the church house, They do not hear the preacher; You are all their heart's elation, You are their Sunday teacher. 110 FASHION. Thou hast seized the cross of Jesus, Loaded it with new born sins ; Overloaded it with folly, Placed it on His back again, Thou, in thy domain of pleasure, Crush the thorns through Jesus' crown; Making men laugh at His passions, And the blood that's trickling down. Thou art in the great theatres, Thou art on the ball room floor; Thou art in the gambler's dungeon, Thou dost all men's sorrows know. Thou hast severed many fam'lies, Children off from home have strayed ; Father sits there broken hearted, Mother joined thy great parade. Well, no doubt you had your troubles, Devils blue that fought your hopes ; But you have it back in double, Woman's kingdom in a lope. If your lady love stuck by you, In the mediaeval day, Ah ! dear fashion, here is to you, In these times that is the way. STRONG DRINK. Ill Always sure you have your glory, It increases and takes well; What the end is of thy story, There's no paragraph to tell. At thy feet a million people Lie today without a breath ; Who, in worshiping thy steeple, Found an everlasting death. Strong Drink. There is a crime upon this land, That works both night and day, It gives its wicked, dark command, The hearts of men it swaya. It brings men from all ranks of life, Down to the brutish tribe, Where everything is war and strife, And wickedness abide. It goes into the sacred homes, Where peace and love should be ; It makes the children long to roam, And home affections flee. 112 STRONG DRINK. It knocks the noble mother clown, It kicks her on the floor, And makes her husband give her frown, Which follows with a blow. Sometimes it curses mother dear, And stabs her bleeding heart, And, filled with sorrow, love, and fear, From husband's face departs. It strips the children naked and Leaves them without their food; It breaks the fam'ly coral strand, And leaves things dark and rude. It takes the young man in his prime, And makes him curse his mother, But this is the beginning crime, It takes him even further. It makes him take the spotless heart Of some bright, prosperous maid, And take it to the demon mart, And there has it arrayed. It makes her break the marriage vow, While in her honey moon, And long from his demoniac rows, To roam and cure her swoons. STRONG DRINK. 113 It makes the young man poison all The tissues of her system, And various diseases make This maid their deathly victim. He soon vacates this world himself, And leaves a weeping widow, With mind, and soul, and heart bereft, A past all dark and bitter. He leaves with her an infant child, With an intemperate birth ; To, if it lives, go and defile Some other one of worth. This demon takes a million youths In every passing year, And makes them disregard the truth, And give to right a jeer. It strikes a million mothers' hearts, That should be filled with joy, And makes their inner senses start With ' Where's my precious boy?*' It takes a million mid-life men, From out the state and church, And takes them to its wicked den Where conscience walks with crutch. 114 STRONG DRINK. It takes the old retiring sage, Who should give good advice, And makes him, in his ripe old age Detest the living Christ. Tt makes the leaders of the state Forget that man needs limit, And names this crime incjustrv great, Because there's money in it. It fills our penitent'ry walls, It runs the county farms; It overflows the prison stalls, With all its death-like charms. Its fruits are the asylums, and Poor-houses, and hospitals, The gambling hell, the ill famed house, Where satan plays the fiddle. It wrecks the system of a man, Promotes arterial action, Inflames the liver and it stands Amidst diseases' factions. This prej's upon the active lungs, Which paints the hectic cheek, And prophecies a sepulcher For a consumptive freak. STRONG DRINK. 116 This follows on the fatal train, Promoting untold sadness, Until it strikes upon the brain, Which brings distressing madness. The victim feels himself in hell While he's with living men; And he could whet the dagger well, To take the life of friends. His wicked passions are inflamed, With crime, with lust, with anger, And drops his heart in human shame Beneath all human candor. He seeks to hold relentless war, With God, or man, or self; All men to him are at a par, His mind is all bereft. This crime is universal, It travels this wide world o'er, It makes men's hearts reversal, And puts conscience out the door. It has swallowed generations, And made whole nations shrink ; Its mission is damnation, This crime is named "Strong Drink." 116 SAM JONES. Sam Jones. Who is it for the last two weeks Has been in our town. And on the end of every tongue We hear his name resound? Who is it every night and day, Would draw a mighty crowd, And from the depth of his own heart, Poured forth God's truth aloud? Who was it that appealed to all, To every class of men, And showed the dreadful wickedness, In their indulging sins? Who was it called the children out And told them what to do, And told them what they must forbid, To be God's children true? Who touched that little tender chord Within their youthful hearts, And deep down in their youthful souls Did God's own word impart? SAM JONES. 117 Who called (he mothers out one day And opened to their view, The way they must through life's conflicts Lead their dear children through? Who told them that their mission was More sacred than them all, That they built up a platform where The child would stand or fall? Who told the wives that selfsame day What was their sacred duty, And told the daughters, young and old, That character was beauty? Who told the young men that the world Was hanging on its fate, And waiting for some noble men To fill the church and state ? And then who told the fathers dear That they too had a hand, That on the fam'ly's record book Were traces of their hands ? Who told them that the faithful wife, Who was the queen of home, Were due all his affections, that He had no time to roam? 118 A HUMAN ARTIST. Who told them that those children dear Now playing at mother's knee, Depended on their father's strength, They'd be what father'd be? Who called men from the gambling hell, And told them that the cards, That they had pushed from day to day Would their own child retard? Who called men from the low saloons And told them that the cup Would cause their sons to be like them, No better than a pup. Who drew the tears to Christian eyes, And caused their souls to weep; Who made some sinners cry aloud, ''I'll try God's word to keep?" But time is brief and I must stop, Do you all understand ; Excell and Steward both were there, But Sam Jones was the man. A Human Artist. Would that I were an artist And while I stand in time I could show our youths eternity, WVile they are in their prime. MAID AND MOSQUITO. 119 -Would that I were an artist, And to this American nation I'd picture out the lynching crime And show its revelation. Would that I were an artist, I would draw a human heart, I'd show to men and women The effects of corrupted parts. And then I'd outline Paradise, And give a celestial view, I'd show to men their future home, If while on earth they're true. Maitl and Mosquito. A maiden sat at midday hour, Beneath a shady tree, She heard a noise within her bower, ** My soul, what can it be?" She looked around, but looked in vain, For nothing met her gaze, She quieted down to read again, Its voice -igain was raised. 120 MAID AND MOSQUITO. Hark ! hush ! I know it can't be fur, 'Tis clearer than before, Is it the whistle of the car, Or distant thunder's roar? Ah! soon I'll know for here it conies, My nerves quake in their bud, For with its long and pointed tongue 'Twill pierce and drink my blood. My doom is sealed, I know my fate, O ! would that I were a man, He darts from his aerial state And lights upon her hand. She screamed for help and raised a stick And fought, for she could not hide, The great mosquito gave a kick, Fell from her hand and died. She could not read because she hud Deep meditating thoughts, She stood and gazed upon the spot Where she'nd the skeeter fought. But present!}' she heard a noise Circling around her head, And there was a score of skeeters, Singing songs of the dead. MAONA EST VER1TAS. 1 She closed her book and sat upright, The skeeters increased their mew, She saw she could not stand it long, So she grabbed her book and flew. Magna est Veritas. I want to be a soldier, From realms of heavenly light, Be pure in soul, and bold in heart, And guide all mankind right. I want to serve the weary, And cause a light to shine In every path that's dreary, To cheer when strength declines. I want that meek and tender glory That fills the soul with life, So dear to youth, to age and hoary, To all so dear and free from strife. Our lives nre unincumbered By depressing want and woe, And the days fly by unnumbered, Smoothly down time's path they go. 122 MA&NA EHT VERITAB. I'm trying to forge a key To ope the giites of heaven ; That key's in the hearts of men, And back its bolts are driven. Lord strengthen me, that while I stand On the rock, and strong in Thee, I may stretch out a loving hand To wrestle a troubled sea. Lord, teach me, that I may teach The things thou dost impart, Help me and my wants to reach The depths of many a heart. "To place my thoughts in one line," In a decoration of beauty, And get behind my conscience, My whole life's work is duty. These words come to my mind, "The work of the world is done by a few," These words come from my conscience, "God looks for a part to be done by you." JUST MARRIED. 123 Just Married. You've launched in a new vessel, And down life's stream you're going, Remember that life's tides will rise, And life's winds will be blowing. But while the storms are raging, Stand by each other's side, And just as 'tis when all is calm, Your boat will stem the tide. Eternal love and wisdom drew The plan of earth and skies, Let His great love be e'er your guide Throughout your married lives. May your lives be prosperous, And always full of love, And may you both be led by Him Whose home's in heaven above. All earthly good we wish thee, All good for thee and thine, And still not only earthly, Hut all that is divine. May heaven and earth both mingle, May earth and heaven be one All through your earthly journey, Till set your earthly sun, 124 WOMAN TN CONGRESS. The haart that you have given, The heart that's given to you, May both be joined together, May both be good and true. In shadow and in sunshine, In sighing and in song, May heaven bless your union, Throughout your whole life long. Woman in Congress. Well, a woman went to congress, Because she was elected ; She lived in a woman's era, Hence she was not objected. All of the leading problems Of the country's weal or woe, Were discussed while there at congress, And her mind was all aglow. And a lady friend said to her ; "Did you catch the speaker's eye?" "I sure did, and I'll tell you The simple reason why!" LIFE PICTURES. 125 "I were my navy blue bloomers, And heliotrope skirt waist; And his eyes were ever on me, I dressed to suit his taste." This woman was a congressman She had the states at heart ; Of course she had to dress that way, For that's a woman's part. Life Pictures. One little look from mother, Has caused the innocent child, To go into spasmodic shame Or a distillation of smiles. Just one little word when spoken, In a soft and gentle tone, May send reviving spirits Into a heart of stone. Sometimes a soul that's frigid, Though frozen up for years, May, by an act of kindness Be melted into tears. 126 QUIETUDE. So we, whose lives are lighted 7 O With all the world holds dear, Should give to those less favored A kindly word of cheer. These little things we count for naught, Hold all our greatest power, The dewdrop on the thirsty bud Opens the fragrant flower. Quietude. When my daily toil is ended And the sun begins to wane, O. if I could find some quietude, To dispel my care and pain. What a peaceful change I'd witness, How my heart with rapture'd glow, While the murmurs of the quietude Lull my soul in sweet repose. Quietude while I am busy, Calmly on the bustling shore, Better hearts than mine can love thee, Purer lives thy peace adore. .1 CHRISTMAS GIFT. 127 Should perchance someone enjoying Kesidence within thy shrine, Bury in thy placid bosom, All his cares along with mine. A Christmas Gift. (Bible.) Do you know that this is Christmas, And this little book is sent As a messenger of One who Came to earth with good intent? Came to earth, left home in glory, On that first cold Christmas day, And He's left this as a token, Showing us the right of way. When you ponder o'er its pages, Think of how the Savior died, How He suffered men's outrages, Loved them, yet was crucified. Can we count redemption's treasure, Scan the glory of God's love? Such shall be the boundless measure Of His blessings from above. I 8 THE NEGRO'S "AMERICA." When the Christmases are over, And the Savior comes again, May you join the happy chorus, And in glory be ordained. The Negro's "America." My country, 'tis of thee, Sweet land of liberty, Would I could sing; Its land of Pilgrim's pride Also where lynched men died With such upon her tide, Freedom can't reign. My native country, thee The world pronounce you free Thy name I love ; But when the lynchers rise To slaughter human lives Thou closest up thine eyes, Thy God's above. Let Negroes smell the breeze, So they can sing with ease Sweet freedom's song; Let justice reign supreme, Let men be what they seem Break up that lyncher's screen, Lay down all wrong. FLEETING SPRING. 129 Our fathers' God, to Thee, Author of liberty, To Thee we sing ; How can our land be bright? Can lynching be a light? Protect us by thy might, Great God our King! Fleeting Spring. Friends, my dear friends, do you know That Springtime's April is gone, And lovely May with all its show, Has nature's spring coat on? Birds, little birds, yes you know That it is beautiful spring; From tree to tree, the birdies go, On fleeting wing ! Quaker, quaker, do you know That the yellow is going? More than that do you know That the green is growing? Singer of songs, do you know That youth is flying? That age, at the lock of your life, Will soon be prying? 130 TIME ETERNITY. Lover of life, do you know That youth's hue is going? More than that, do you know That the gray is showing? Time Eternity. The Saint's Departure. I had a dream the other night, I saw some strange and mystic sights That puzzled me ; Some things I saw resembled time, And some resembled more sublime "Eternity." The oriental Persian scenes, The tropics- with their bright sunbeams, Could not compare. And even Italy's soft'ning hillss, Pleasant dales and rippling rills, Would stand aglare. I saw the sun rise in the East, And watched to see its Western feast, It ntrer set ; I wandered 'round among the throng, To see if any soul was wronged, But none I met. TIME -ETERNITY. 131 They all had on their bright attire, It seem'd they nerer would retire To workman's garb; I wondered how they could exist, Forever in a pleasure mist, My senses throbb'd. I strolled around the city's limit, To find the tombstones that were in it, And as I went I saw towers and castles high, But not a white slab to my eye Said monument. I sought to find the destitute, And wondered why they were so mute, I felt for them ; I could not get a single sigh, Nor even see a tearful eye, No face was grim. I went into a chapel grand, Its walls were gold. I saw a man Stand by the door; "There's no place for the poor I see!" And he this answer made to me: "We have no poor." 132 TIME ETERNITY. I was perplexed, so I sat down, Beneath a shade tree's springtime sound And this implied: "Sir! whence come all these loving scenes, This landscape to our eyes serene, Sir ! where am I?" And then out from among the leaves, And from the pathway's flower wreathes, And 'cross the stream; There came a thronging band of saints, With countenance above complaints, Joy reigned supreme. At first I thought I knew their voices, Their greetings to me were the choicest, I made a start ; Hut they, arrayed in shining gold, Appeared as strangers in the fold, I knew them not. And when they saw me puzzled stand, The mighty throng did clap their hands, Saying "welcome." And all the mystery passed away, The band cried out ' ' you're here to stay, This is hearen !" CLASS VALEDICTORIAN. 133 I found that time had gone its trip, Eternity had fixed its grip On human hearts; The rich and poor together stood, Upon one solid brotherhood Never to part. And some one said from out the throng, "Are all here who have conquered wrong?" He was a seer ; And voices from all generations, Sent forth in loudest exclamation: " We are all here." An angel cried "Time why depart?" And Time replied with cheerful heart, I used to be ; But God, the maker of mankind, Said some day I should be defined "Eternity." Class Valedictorian. To A. R. The struggles you have made in school, Today are crowned with honor; You st.-iiid now in a vestibule, That causes you to ponder. 134 CLASS VALEDICTORIAN. School days and childhood days must end, And life's tempestuous storms; From every part are coining in, Be firm ! Be true! Be calm ! In conversation once you said The highest human standing Would be your goal. And you'd be led By all your rights demanding. No matter what the world may say, Adopt this as an omen That you will go the right of way, And make yourself a woman. tt A gentle voice is calling thee, The future calls for aid; And those stern ones in death made free, Tell you the price they paid. Stand forth for God arid liberty. Stand forth for human rights; In one strong effort, worthy thee, Soul stenciled, be a light. Enter the field of life to do. Not just to work for gain ; For such mottoes make men untrue, Narrowing 1 the heart and brain. CLASS VALEDICTORIAN. 135 Enter not in si feverish strife, Nor in 'a giddy ing whirl, For these dry the fountain of life, And gulfs the soul in a swirl. Enter not in a dull routine, He who was meant to be king, Thus will he made a dull machine, Grinding down to a thing. Your classmates have their eyes on you, Your kindred watch your motion, Your friends have all your acts in view, Your ship is on the ocean. And world-wide Christendom at large, Stands waiting for your action ; And God, who shaped your fleeting barge, Has with you a transaction. Thus environed move forward brave, Surmount all opposition, And on this restless human wave, Make better man's condition. Go forth, thou leader of the class, With brain ahead of brawn; Strive e'er to gain the foremost place, Let no man take thv crown. 136 CLASS VALEDICTORIAN. As you move off into life's sea, With skill to use the pen ; Be thou a messenger of peace, A beacon light to men. Press on, you have the class's hope, Be brave and watch your course ; Success is on ahead and you Shall gain the wished for shores. Should I fail, not skilled in writing, Best adrise here to produce ; From the world's great pictures view it, Put it to the best of use. PART II. Children's Corner. 138 CHILDREN^ CORNER. Children's Corner. Little Children Love One Another." liil-le. I wish that I had the power To dedicate this chapter, There's not a single hour, My soul it don't enrapture. * * * I wish I knew just what to say, To introduce this part; Its on my mind both night and day, It penetrates my heart. * # # I wish I had the children here, Well, then I couldn't write; My mind would be in such a cheer, My heart in such a flight That I would not believe my eyes, That I was not in Paradise. CHILDKEWS KISSES. 180 Children's Kisses. 1 John, 3:7. Sometimes we kiss for passion's sake, Sometimes we kiss through love; Sometimes we kiss and make mistakes, Our kisses should be gloved. We never know when lips impart, If it is false or true; But if its from the children's heart, Just rest assured its pure. We ne'er have thoughts unsatisfied, Which children's kisses bring; No tearful eyes for hope denied, Nor taste of bitter things. We ne'er have sense of fallen pride, No reason for resentment; No thoughts of wicked Lethe's tide, The child's kiss brings contentment. The hope of endless better things, The kiss of children wakes, And stirs our hearts, till conscience sings And hearts with gladness break. If all the kisses on the earth, Were pure as little children's, And I could get my conscience's worth, Mv kisses would be millions. THE SINGING OF BIRDS. 141 " The Time of the Singing of Birds is Come." Solomon's Song, 2:12. I sought the sanctum of a bird, I wanted information ; I simply asked for just one word, To help in dedication. Chirped the birdie, "Its an honor, If it is for the children; For their holy, sacred corner, I'll give you half a million." "Little sisters, little brothers, I've a message from above; Told to me to tell to others, Its a heart brim full of love." "While time is fresh and hope is new, While youth is lingering nigh, Keep noble things within thy view, Look up toward the sky." "I often think how the angels Arc near us both night and day, Let us prevent evil passions, From driving them far away." 142 HEART THIEVES. "Just like dear, good little children, Let's try to obedient stay, Of the sins and strifes of this world, And we'll hear what angels say." Heart Thieves. I John, 3:18. There is a band of little thieves, That often 'round me dart, And like the wind that takes the leaves, They steal away my heart. Sometimes they catch me unawares, And e'er I get my breath, The heart is gone, I know not where, But still I'm not bereft. Sometimes they come when both my eyes, Are fixed upon them straight, And all at once to my surprise, The precious heart they take. Sometimes they come in regiments, By tens, by fives, by twos. And sometimes even only one, But yet the heart is due. HEART THIS VES. 143 No matter when or how they come, Though I know they :ire thieves. The heart's door is always open, And gladly does receive. And if they fail to steal my heart, The heart is sadly grieved ; And nothing sare those little rogues, Such sadness can relieve. Sometimes at home, sometimes at school, Sometimes upon the street; No matter where, it is the rule, The heart gives them a greet. Sometimes it catches one of them, And when its not amiss, The heart turns thief itself what then? It quickly steals a kiss. And when the heart is so bereft, O'er wicked ways of men, It receires new strength from the thought "These little ones don't sin." And all the influence that I have, Which to these thieves is given, Is pointing out the way that leads Their little souls to heaven. !44 HEART THIEVES. They take the heart at early dawn Way off to Paradise, And show it to the blood-bought throne, Around the living Christ. They take the heart at sultry noon, Into a cooling breeze, Where all of life's hardships make room For what we call "heartsease," They take the heart at eventide, When daily toil is ended ; They take it where the stars abide And have its tissues mended. And when the heart lays down to sleep, While in a pensive dream, These little thieves around it creep, And makes the rest serene. They take the heart at dark midnight, And wander far away, Into the land of pure delight. Where midnight is as day. My friends, I guess you know by now, Who these thieves are in part ; The Savior loves the little rogues, The children steal my heart. God Sees. When I rise at early morn, Need I fear of any harm God sees. When I run about and play, If I 'tempt to go astray God sees. When my mama whispers low, "Baby you do so and so" God sees. If I disobey her rule, Or if I am rude at school God sees. If I do the thing that's right, Whether it be day or night- God sees. If I do a thing that's wrong. Even though I hide it long God sees. When I'm through with all the day And I kneel at night to pray (iod 10 146 CHILDREN AND MOTHER. After I am gone to bed, If I cover up my head God sees. Even when I'm sound asleep, While the angels 'round me creep- God sees. So you see I never fear, God's protection's ever near God sees. Children and Mother. I John, 1:4. Isn't it noble children dear, To have a mother's voice to hear, A mother to honor and to love, And watch that you the right way rove? Once 'pon a time, I was a child, And I enjoyed a mother's smile, Since she's gone to a happy home. I have felt at times all alone, But your influence now I feel Gently across my senses steal, And undefined, resistless spells, Brinir to me thoughts I cannot tell. CHILDREN AND MOTHER. 147 I feel her breath upon my cheek, And from your letters hear her speak. Seraphic sounds, more sweetly dear, Than when from her they met my ear. Dreams of you, dear children, keep Your vigils 'round me while I sleep, And wiping off the sorrowing tears, Bring back the thoughts of other years. Bright are the joys your spells create, They place our minds in happy state, For music's charm is weak and faint, To that which children's love can paint. But now I will not take your time, For thou art mine, and mine are thine; Thine by creation's mystic skill, Which formed and doth sustain us still, Thine by the more endearing love, Which sent a Savior from above, Our souls to save, our lives to bless With hopes of untold happiness. 148 .s-.-LV'/M r/,.irs. Santa Clans 011 N<>\v Years Eve. Il serins to me ihsit all < f ximis had none, And the new year would l>e in the coining morn. And it seems to me 'twa* Santa Clans that said: X.I.V7M f LAI'S. 14 % 1 know that the children are safely in bed, I'll just leave my reindeer and slily steal out, And taken good peep at the gifts strewn about." Thetirst place he went to dwelt six reckless bojs, And in a sad plight did he find all their toys, The drums, it was awful, each one of the six. Was riddled with holes there was not a drum stick, A dog with his tail gone, a horse with no head, A wagon wheel tied to the wagon with thread, And Santa (Maus. you know he felt awful bad, He stood there and looked disappointedand sad. And then Santa went where dwelt three tiny girls. All sweet little maidens, with eute dangling curls, lie vs with sm-h rough, careless wavs, IMM- girls can be happy in much quieter plays." Mut i) he xva* shockoth legs off hay -under the chair. A little bird, eyckss, with feathers pulled out , Reposed on n bed with its tongue it) ;i pout. The tea sets so scattered that Santa (Maus said: - J fee-l ve4^v sick J'll go home .and Jo 150 SANTA CLAU8. But some one then asked him to sit in a chair, And things were explained to him while he was there. They told him that toys wrecked and broken but rise To take on new value in little folk's eyes, Those drums 'twas a pity it can't be denied, The boys longed to see all the noises inside; The boys found out that they were hollow, no doubt, We all pay big prices some things to find out, So, Santa, don't plan any vengeance next year, These toys, worn and broken, are none the less dear, And Santa, all children are not that way, For some have their toys on the next xinas day. Then Santa said: "Yes, I'd forgot childish days, I now feel hop'd up, you've explained childish plays." Then Santa Claus was asked to give them a speech , And this is the way that the old man did preach. RANT A OLAL'S. 151 "We can hear the muffled tread of noiseless years, And they bear the stream of both our smiles and tears, They are loaded down with hopes and dreams sublime, As they come stealing up the scope of time, We are near the threshold of the open door, We are treading where we' ye never trod before And our days are on a loom and their chimes, And their warp and woof are past and future times. VN'e are near where the old year is at an end, And we know that the new will soon begin. The year that is leaving may be blotted, But the new one is clear, its page unspotted. Let us make each day a record page clear, Then we'll have a clean volume for the year. Let us grasp now the key of inspiration, And wind our lives with new determination. That through the year now coming clear and bright, We'll trust in God and advocate for right." Then Santa Claus, he nicely bowed his head, And said the thought of speaking he did dread. .1 CHAT \\'TTtt THE BOYS. A Chat With the Boy*, I've been a )>oy myself, And with hoys I play, But I'm for solemn chal With the hoys today. You are just in prime, boys, Life is on ahead. Its responsibilities Never learn to dread. Never look behind, hoys. Up ami on'* the way ? Time enough to look hack On ome future day. Though the way he long, boys. Fight it with a will: Never stop to look behind Wh> diml>ing p a hill. First be sure- you're right. boys', Tbm wilh courage .-^trfuiff Stmpywer (leterminsptJons- And move riirht along. You :tre iw>t .dwa?s ftmy*.. SMIIW^ day yon' II b<^ men. Bat 1 1 WAV is the time, boys- Fr voa to //A* KXnWKTII -I.V/> 1.0V KTII VnC When you're near the top, boys. Of the rugged Way, Do not stop to look around. But climb, climb away. Shoot above the crowd, boys. Brace yourself and go. When you meet obstacles Strike them with a blow. Kuccess is at the top, boys* Waiting there Until Brain, and pluck, and self respect* Have mounted Up the hill, ll< KnOttVtli and Lovetli You/ Can you count the stars that glimmer 1 lu the axure of the sky? Do you know how many cloudlet* O'er the world go fleeting by V 1 i"l. the Lord, has each one Not a star or cloud *o siual) But His \ratchf ill eye has noted, Ootl, tlfe Fatlier, Uiunvs tlx>n> all 154 INDUSTRY IN CHILDREN. Do you know how many children From bright morn to close of day, Free from sorrow, toil and trouble. Merry hearted, laugh and play? God in heaven knows and loves them, Cares for all they say or do- Guards them in his tender keeping And he knows and loveth vou. Industry in Children. Proverb 22:6. There's enough, dear children, To do in the house, To keep you as busy As a little mouse. There's enough, dear children, To do all about, And if you will try, you will Soon find it out. There's enough, dear children, To do anywhere, So hurry around and Do your full share. INDUSTRY IN CHILDREN. 158 And children, whatever you Do, do it well, People always, in looking it Over, can tell. If mama and papa desire You should work, Go at it cheerfully, don't Grow up a shirk. When you are out with your Playmates at play, Make it as merry as Bird songs in May. And when you grow up to be Women and men, You'll know how to overcome Kvil and sin. The future, the future just Over the way, Is patiently looking for A better day. Its hanging, dear children, Upon your hand, And i* ready to march At vour com.nand. <*>< r.ir.r/'/o.V'x i-:\in \<;, Therefore you are soldiers, Captains and guards. Lend your playmates and he Led bv A our God. Vacation's Ending* I John, 5:21. t)ear children, the hour is near, Look 'round in every nook, And get your shite and pencil, And find that absent book. The summer's sun is sinking The nights are getting cool, Vacation's disappearing, It's almost time for school. A few more days, then Monday, You'll hear the ringing bells, Then you will all be coming Vacation news to telK Vou have had lots of play time, Lots of recreation^ Take hold of your studies no\\' With new determination* l.|r.l77o.V> KMUMi. It's very grand, dear children, Tli sit you can go to school. Study well each lesson and Obey your teacher's rule. A dear little girl is she, Who likes to go to school; A very naughty boy is he. Who daily breaks the rule. You'll have by day and by night. Mania and teaeher sav: "He good my child, do things right, And thorough be always.." These words on my ear doth fall, And these words I must tell : 44 Whatever is done at all, Is worth the doing well." Love your mother and your teacher, Love your instruction too, Love your (Jod who rules above, And to yourself be true. lf8 TELEPHONE TO HE A YEN. Telephone to Heaven. A little child with her aunty came Into a certain store, But the merchant was busy waiting On those who came before ; The child asked many questions and her Aunty would reply : " That's so and so. You must be quiet," And then she'd give a sigh. "Well, aunty, wat is dat nittle box wid All dem strings tummin down?" " Why, baby, that's a telephone where they Talk all over town." " I want to talk dat telephone." "No Darling, not today." "Well, net dat man turn talk for me I tell him wat to say." The merchant overheard all this and With a pleasant smile, He thought within himself what he Would say to please the child. And the child had concentrated All its thoughts upon the 'phone, 'Till the merchant and the woman And the child were all alone. TELEPHONE TO HEAVKN. 159 "Now I can wait on baby," the Smiling merchant said, As he stooped and softly toyed with The curly little head. "I want oo to tall up mama," came The answer full and free, " Wif zo telephone and ast her when She's tummin back to me." "Tell her I so lonesome 'at I don't know What to do, And papa cries so much I dess he must Be lonesome too. Tell her to turn dis eve'ing, tauseat night I dit so fraid, Wif no mama here to take me when the Night dins to fade. r- 1 And ebry day I want her, for my Dolly's dot so tored, From the awful punchen buddy give it Wif his little sword, Arid aint no body to fix it since Mama went away, And poor little lonesome kittie's ditten Thinner every day." K XI 'K LSI* HI. * Succt child." the merchant murmured us He touched its anxious brow. There's no telephone connection where Your mama's living now." " Aint no telephone in hearen?'' and Tears came to her eyes, "I fought dat God had everthing wif Him up in the skies." The woman with a heavy sigh, and Child walked out the door, And the merchant he was puzzled as He'd never been before. And he said, I'll ever strive to make Myself a telephone, Through which the little children can All " know as thev are known.' Excelsior. (To the memory of Alma, a little niece, born Septeml er 12th, 1888, died May 80th, 1891. An angel.) Rev. 21:11. 19:1. 'Twas in the bleak September, The flowers were gone ; AVhen our loving flower, Dear Alma was born. 11 EXCELSIOK. The flowers came and went, And came and left once more; But when they came again, Alma thought she'd go. I asked myself the question, *' Why take one so dear?" Spoke my heart full sadly, "The answer is not here." (iod hath his mysteries, Ways that we cannot tell ; He hides them deep like a sleep, Of them he loves so well. She had played, and needed A little wayside rest; ( 1 ould she have found a better place Than her dear Savior's breast? Her earthly mission was love To and from ev'ry one, She's gone to be rewarded, In lands beyond the sun. Sleep on, precious Alma, Take your eternal rest, Mama and papa're coming To take you to their breast. 162 WHERE ARE THE BOYS? Weep not beloved parents, The Lord, He knoweth best, Your child's not dead but sleeping In God's angelic nest. She was radiant in beauty, Perfect, glorious, bright, God wanted her for a setting In His crown of light. When the dead now sleep in Jesus, Rise in forms that are fair, Then shall we meet our jewel, Our treasure rich and rare. Our diamond, sapphire, our ruby, Our dear little opal of love, Our pearl, most precious jewel, We'll meet her in heaven above. Where are the Boys. A question I would like to ask, To answer it may be a task. But the thought cannot be masked, Where are the bovs? WHERE ARK THE HOYS* 163 Congregations' service of song, Thou who workest against all wrong, Canst thou help us h'nd the throng? Where the boys are? Young People's Club at Baptist church, Thou who for the boys doeth much, Canst thou answer for us on such? Where are the boys? Epworth League at Wesley chapel, Thou who for the boys doth battle, Canst thou just one answer grapple ? Where are the boys? These reply to us in sadness, We throw out our wings in gladness, But the boys go by in sadness, No boys are here. Pastors, while at morning service, Telling men of God's own mercies, Baffling all these earthly curses, Where are the boys? Pastors reply with .saddened heart, The true answer we cannot start, When the truth we try to impart, No boys are there. 164 WHERE ARE THE BOYS? Mothers ! thou who hast all power, To begin these human towers, Canst thou tell at this late hour, Where the boys are? Mothers with the fashions and styles, Have not time to lose with the child, Hence the answer comes with a smile, The boy's all right. At half past nine o'clock at night, Up and down the streets in a flight, Some at play and others in lights, There are the boys. On the corners they congregate. In wicked oaths they conversate, With a cigarette puff they state, We are not boys. Thus they are moving down life's stream, Grasping all things low and mean, Soon we will hear a mother scream Where is my boy? This is the way they get their start, The county farms will get their part, Then we hear mother's broken heart. Where is my bov? WIIKHK ARK THE BOYS? 165 Then they wish time in its flight Could make him a child for one night, O! on what a different plight, They'd start their boy. Too late, too late, will come the cry, Neglected days have hastened by. Hence we will hear both sobs and sighs Where is my boy? In the year of nineteen ten, There'll be a mighty call for men, What can we give as answer then? Where were the boys? The nation's cancer makes a dust, And moral virtue calls out thus, Mothers, thou who hast all the trust, Where are the boys? Mothers! You have power to save, Down life's long stream you start the wave, Mothers ! keep not our minds enslaved. Where are the boys? 106 CHILDREN'S DAY. Children's Day. 1 John, 4: 4. Children, when you read that sweet story of old, When Jesus was here among men, How he called little children as lambs to his fold, Wouldn't vou liked to have been with him / then? Though you could not see His kind look when he spoke, You can only read the story You are greater today while under his yoke, Than all of Solomon's glory. Though before our time death frost came to lie Upon his warm and mighty heart, And it quenched His bold and tender eye, His spirit did not all depart. That spirit now from thousands of pens, Is thrown upon the lucid page, It's moving, it shakes the heart of men, In this golden, yet sinful age. It's showing the children how to go, To witness a part of His love, And if we will seek Him here below, We will see Him and hear Him above. CHILDREN'S DAY. 167 He's gone away, only to prepare, For those whose sins are forgiven, And many children have gathered there, For such is the kingdom of Heaven. o Come, look in my eyes little children, And tell me through all the long day, Have you thought of your God and your Savior, Who keepeth from sin all your ways? When you go to rest little children, Right over your innocent sleep, Unseen by your vision, His angels Their watch through the darkness doth keep. They hearcth e'en the cry of the sparrows, They caret h for great and for small; In life and in death, little children, Their love is the truest of all. Then we'll pray that the lore which guideth, The lambs that they loreth so well, May lead you that in life's bright morning, Beside the still waters you'll dwell. Since there's a world that's beyond the grare, And children are all hastening there; While you arc in your youthful strength, Incline your dear hearts to prayer. 168 CHILDREN'S DAY. Put your trust not in this world, children, Which has for you thousands of charms, Though they catch the fancy a moment, To the soul they all doeth harm. We are faced by sinful influences, But our Savior was crucified; For your sins and my sins dear children, He suffered, He languished, He died. But He went and buried His sorrows, Knowing that we all had our share; And He opened a crystal fountain, And bid children enter there. You children were made for life's battle, And God's sword is girt on your thigh ; And the purpose of God is overthrown, If you only linger and sigh. For our lives are coinages of heaven, To be spent in a coinage of love; 'Till all the realms of earth below, Arc as pure as the realms above. We are strangers, we are pilgrims, But Christ our eternal brother, Whispers from out His blood-bought throne, "Little children, love one another.'* Til K sr.]f/'LK IfKASOX. 109 I wish thnt your thoughts so heavenly were, And your hearts to Christ so given; That all our toils, our love, our care, Might lead us nearer to heaven. Were it in my power dear children, To set all of sin's pinions free; Your paths should he pared more smoothly, Throughout time to eternity. Let us all try daily to forge a key, To open the gates of heaven, If we make that key the hearts of men, The holt will be backward driven. The Simple Reason. Ill John, 1:4. The sweet month of May was drawing to a close. The month of hope and promise, of leaves And sunshine that clothes the earth With smiles, but fills many hearts with tears, By calling the victims of consumption to its (ireen gloom. It was the evening of the Holy Sabbath. The public worship was near Over, and never since has my heart been So deaplv touched u-< by the songs they sang. 170 THE SIMPLE REASON. The children's voices sounded above all others. They were singing, sweetly singing, It was a lovely Sabbath day, And the evening air was ringing, About the little child, Angel May. They sang of her stately sadness, How 'twas whispered in heaven afar, How she asked the watchman one favor. To set the beautiful gates ajar, "Only a little, I pray thee, Set the beautiful gates ajar." "I can hear my mother weeping," Said the child in a trembling tone, Feeling that heaven she couldn't enjoy, With mother on earth alone. She felt that when the gate was closed, Her mother couldn't see her so far; So she cried, "O angel give me the key, And I'll set the gate ajar, Only a little I pray thee, Set the beautiful gate ajar." The warden knew not a mother's worth, Hence could not feel for the child, And prompted by heavenly duty, v He answered her with a smile. THE SIMPLE REASON. 171 And when the child impressed it, Speaking of mother afar, The warden answered "I dare not Set the beautiful orates ajar," In :i low calm way 1 dare not, 4 'Set the beautiful gate ajar." Then up rose Mary the blessed, The mother of the Savior of men, Who knew the child's young feelings, Who had motherly feelings within, She laid her hand on the angel, Whose feelings were just at par. The warden, seeing her expression, Set the beautiful gate ajar Just for the sake of the mother, Set the beautiful gate ajar. Turned was the key in the portal, Fell ringing the golden bar. And, lo, in the little child's fingers, Stood the beautiful gate ajar. With exultation I was about to rise when A stir was made, and a man rose whom I can never forget. He was an old man I'pon whose frame the years of a Centurv had left their traces; while 172 THE STMPLK REASON, As snow his white heard hung upon his Breast; and although the lower part of his Face was sunken by extreme age, his eyes Beamed with a fadeless benevolence and his Brow had scarcely a wrinkle. They told me Afterward, that he was the most loved Companion of Christ and in sweetness of tem- Per most like the children. Unable to support himself, he was carried Forward in the arms of his friends to the Little rostrum at the end of the room. All rose to greet him, and even little children Looking up into his face with affectionate Joy, as he whispered " Ble^s the children." Having reached the stand, he attempted to Speak, but failing, sunk into the arms Of friends. Eyes swam in tears, Hearts melted in sorrow. After a little, he revived. They raised Him up again. He looked around like a Father taking his last farewell, then Stretched forth his hands above the group, And, while tears ran down his cheeks, He cried with tremulous voice, "Little children love one another." Til K SIMI'LK RKAS'tX. 173 He could say no more. It was his last Sermon. He looked around upom them again With a smile of divine sweetness and His lips moved, but we heard nothing. His Eves fell upon me and with a feeble gesture He beckoned me to him and seemed to read My countenance. "Sir," said I, "You and The children almost persuadest me to Be a Christian. You are fixing to Leave me. The children will be with me, We are to battle life for each other. I Pray thee leave me thy grace." Grasping my hand he said, "I leave You seven words, give them to the Children, they are Faith, Hope, Charity, Peace, Joy, Truth :md Love." "Father," said I, "can't you tell me what is faith?" He whispered distinctly "Faith is that which you see descending Down from the realms of celestial light, Something that's on the cross depending (iuidiiig children through this life aright." And what is hope? " Hope has a sight which nerves the wc.-irv. And all of its brightness in luster shines, 174 THE XIMPLK REASON. It lights the path when all life seems dreary, It cheers when all our strength declines." And what is charity? ' ' Charity comes in and helps soothe the dying, Its ears are open to the orphan's wail, It hears the voice of the homeless crying, It feeds the hungry and protects the frail." And what is peace? "Peace is a calm, meek, tender glory, That fills our souls with the pride of life, It helps the youth and the age when hoary, Itisfree from passion, from war, and strife." And what is joy? Joy comes pure as a fragrant flower, Its blossoms are scattered along life's* I ream, It cheers the heart in its youthfu! hours, And lulls men's cares like a merry dream." And what is truth ? "Truth comes in a majestic splendor, And its light shines in all honest souls, It makes men just, in their nature tender, It gives all strength to character it holds." I will not ask you what is love, for I beliere That is a combination of these six. The mortal spasm now grasped him. Once More he spake, but it was with the energy 77//-; >/.!//'/,/; A'A'.ISGLV. 175 Of strong health, " Even so, Lord Jesus take Me" he was asleep in death. I Turned to leave and A poor wayfaring man of grief Was standing by my side, Who sued my conscience for relief, His wounded side I eyed. He uttered not a single word. But showed his nail'd print hand; He saw my heart was so bestir'd, He said "You understand." He said "go to some mountain, And call the children near; You dip them in a fountain, And teach their heart to fear." He then left me. I am now a Christian. Children I have many things to Tell you, and through grace I intend To tell them yet. A week passed and one of the blandest Mornings in June that ever the sun rose I'pon, I visited his library and found On a tablet these words: "Jesus is very Precious to my soul, my all in all, and I Kxpect to be saved by free grace through His atoning blood. This is my testimony." 176 THE SIMPLE REASON. I left the room resolving within Myself to make his testimony my Testimony and to Love the children just as he did, Who for love once sweetly pleaded ; Trust and guide, and never doubt Build a wall of love about. But I've always loved the jewels, Always thought that it was cruel, To efface their youthful beauty It has been a life-time duty. Yes, I love them, I remember. May is not like cold December. If I've words of rage and madness, Always check it from their gladness. When my heart is tilled with kindness, And to evil shows its blindness; Then it's time to turn my whole heart Into the porte called children's mart. When I'm thinking of my Savior, When I'm seeking good behavior; When I look for earthly angels, Then I with the children mingle. THK SLMI'LK KKASOX. HT When the general roll is thunder'd. If .iniertv. 182 AJAX' DREAM. He wended his way homeward His mind was all af right, He made a hasty trip to bed, And tried to doze away the dead, He passed a restless night. But while he slept a spirit, Before him seemed to stand The soul whose body on the beach He covered from the buzzard's reach, Who spoke with warning hand. "Ajax." said the spirit, " Listen to a friend's command! Thou hast in mind to sail the sea In search of free-born liberty, This is thy native land!" So when Ajax awoke He formed a resolution, He said this is my native land, And if I make myself a man, There'll be a revolution. And then he closed by saying : "I think I know the sequel, I'll patronize my fellow man, And lend him all the aid I can, And thus build up my people." AJAX' SECOND DREAM. 183 Ajax' Second Dream. I dreamed I was with the lynchers, And in their arms I lay. Ah me! has the vision vanished, Have the demons passed away? They are like a pack of hell-hounds, They seek an innocent man, And simply on his color He dies at their command. Sing to me songs of slavery, They will cool me after my sleep, And with freedom's odors fan me, Till into my veins they creep, For my heart is hot and restless, And all of the lynchers' crimes The hundreds of hanging bodies Are dancing before my mind. My soul! this lifeless nature. Oppresses my brain and heart; ( )h ! for a storm and thunder, To sunder this world apart! Stop singing, please I hate it, But take up a buckle and sword, And clash these human demons, Till this lynching world is stirred. AfAX' SRGOX& DREAM. Now leave me, and take from my chamber, This wretched mosquito, and tell The people how much he annoys me. With his silly, tinkling bells. Its strange, but my nerves he vexes, A thing without blood or brain, But ask it first please to help me To tear the lynehers in twain. I long for the jungles of Africa, Among the wild beasts to roam, Where the hissing of the reptiles, Will make me feel at home; In n vision I was transported, To Africa in a day, And through the jungles of memory, Loosen 'd my fancy to play. I wandered through the jungles, I played with the crocodiles. And toyed the head of the hissing asp, As we often do n child ; The elephant trum)eting start ed, When he heard my footsteps near, The kangaroo fled wildly, Crviiiii in distressing fear. .-J./.LV *K<'->\1> DliK.lM. 18. And I heard a wild mate roaring, As the shadows of night came on, To snoose in the brush beside me, And the thoughts of my sleep were gone. Then I roused myself from slumber And sprang to my trembling feet, Anxious for some one to soothe me, I wandered my mate to greet. We grasped each other on meeting, And rolled upon the sand, And tried our best to kill each other How powerful he was and grand. Then with all his might he seized me, With a wild, triumphant cry, That sounded like the lynchers' yell. And the Nero's wail and sih. We grappled and worried together, For we both had rage that was rude, And his teeth as they sank into my flesh, I)rew forth the lyneh-eseaped blood. But I had courage to tight him, For we were but foe to foe, While the lynchers come by hundreds, To defend we have no show. 186 AJAX' Fnroin\ Other wild beasts were vicious, The lion and the grizzly bear Fought for me in the moonlight, While I lay crouching there. Then down to the river we loitered, Where the young fawns came to drink, And my beast friends sprang upon them, Ere they had time to shrink. The wild beast in the jungles, Had tenderer, softer hearts. Than America's Anglo-Saxon, In civilized Christian marts; Would that I had the power To touch the hearts of men, And with the aid of wild beast Heveal this wretched sin. Ajax' Fright. There's a dreadful horror 'bout me, That nothing drives away ; It's with me in my night dreams. It's with me every dav. AJAX- Fiuanr. 187 It makes the night appear so short, The bed is hard and cold; It makes the days appear so long To both the young and old. Must I arise from out my bed, And start my daily work? The lynchers, just for meanness, will My head from body jerk. To die like a man by gun or shield, Such a death I do not fear ; No other death 'Id be worst to feel, Than to leave my loved ones here. But fear of being lynched for naught Makes all one's senses start; To be chased by hounds and hell-hounds Draws pangs to bleeding hearts. I hear the hell-hounds yelping, They're coming 'cross the plain ; With bloodshot eyes and gnashing teeth, For blood of a Negro's veins. I've never harmed a white man, They can't be after me; But oh! when they're blood thirsty, Innocence is no plea. 188 There's stirring in my back yard, There's fumbling under my floor, Great God they seem to smell me ! The Ivnchers are at mv door! Ajax* Soliloquy. Riches, which once I held in light esteem, And inspired me now I laugh to scorn ; And lust of fame which was an ideal dream, Has vanished from me with the morn. When in my solitary room I sit, And try to see where life presents a bloom ; Not one fair dream before my mind's eye flits, But hateful thoughts enwrap my soul in gloom. My heart aches, instead of night rest, HIT dreams Are anxious, that a cup filled up with drugs For me to drink, and leave the world unseen. And go and be a feast to hungry bugs. Would I could fade, dissolve, go and forget That I upon the earth was ever known, For all these crimes, the fever and the fret, All we can do is heir each other groan. .I/.I.V KIMHlKlf* s There is something painful :m > t But dungeons where the lynchers place the prison'd corpse of man ' ' : * " The buzzard sailing in the air has all at his command. O white man! Qan't I probe from you a single, tender sob? And won't you help me pray one prayer to your Almighty God ? "OGod! give me a little faith and into my darkness That's deeper darkening every day, O send a light of rest. All hopes deal with the future Lord, I hope for better days , And while I'm drifting down the tide, guide me the right of way." Laurels of this world may be sweet but they soon pass away. j We have no laurels as a race, are they in com ing days? AJAX* DEATH. 243 Like those colossal tombs of old on drifting n desert sands They cast .shadows 'cross the cent'ries then crumble to the land. This country in a prosperous stage will yet come to a halt, And see the depths of this outrage and remedy the fault. When time lies down fore'er to sleep at eter nity's feet, And vanities, pomps, more creep upon the stage so sweet And stars of heaven have all gone out of their ethereal home The eternal hand, unseen by us across this land 11 will roam. The evening shade was gathering now, the surging waters rollM. And Ajax felt the cool ni^ht wind, it seemed to fan his soul. Unruly winds began to cease and zephyr's breezes rose The lotus plant from water's depths beforo his ga/e roposcd. The solemn river loiter'd on its way quite un- coBoerned, 244 AJAX' DEATH. The palm trees shook their nodding heads and stoop' d to greet the fern. The Jackall slipping on the bank knew Ajax' skin was black He snapp'd his teeth he thought t' was law his fleshless bones to crack : The guiding stars began to show, the day went into night And like a phantom ship at sea they drifted out of sight. The planks, call'd ship on which they rode, . went calmly down the river And no one knows unto this da}- which was the longest liver. Did Ajax kill the white man? O no, his heart was tender ! Did white man kill poor Ajax? his heart was rash as timber ! Did both of them drift to the gulf and make a feast for whales ; Did both of them escape and shall we yet hear both their tales? If poor Ajax i* yet alive and dwells upon the land, He'll write a book to shake this world and make men understand. Dominm Vobiscitm. 216 CONTENTS. CONTENTS. At My Mother's Grave, - 9 A Human Artist, - - - - - - 118 Alone with Jesus, - ... 104 Best Things in the World, - 77 Cain and Abel, 36 Christmas Gift, 127 Class Valedictorian, - 133 Consolation, 31 Deception, - 88 Dedication, - - 3 Douglass Dead, - - 41 Fashion, - 108 Fixed Love, - - 94 Fleeting Spring, - 129 From Degradation Through Supplication to Education, - - 79 Harper, Mrs. Frances E. 33 Just Married, - 123 Hurrah for McKinley, - 58 Lincoln's Call, - 57 Life's What We Make It, 32 Life Pictures, - 125 Love's Labor Lost, - 87 Love Regained, - 90 Love and Fear Contest, - 92 Man's Imperfections, - 47 Maceo Cuba's Liberator, - 71 Mother's Songs, - 21 Mother's Rage, - 196 VONTKXT*. 247 Moth -rly Emotions, Memory of Mother, Maid and Mosquito, Mitgnii est reritux, Miss Snowflake and the Lovers, 97 My Bible, 1(K5 My Sweetheart, Negroes' " America," . 128 New Year's Greeting, Only, "Our Country," Payne, Bishop Daniel, Preamble, Preface, Quietude, Sum Jones, 116 Sonnet October, Spotless, Stowe, Harriet Beecher's Works, 64 Stowe, Harriet Beecher's Monument, 69 Strong Drink, 1H The Call that All must Obey, 60 The Easter Man, 43 The Model Girl, The Trip I'd Like To Take, 99 Time Eternity, 14 Uncle Tom's Cabin, 64 Voice from the South, Woman In Cimgn-. . Y. M. C. A. Founder, ?~> PART SE<;ONI>. Childn-ns' Corm-r. 1 Kisses, 139 248 CONTENTS. Children*' ^ iy, 160 Children and Mother, 146 A Chat With the Boys, 152 Excelsior, 160 God Sees, 145 Heart Thieves, 142 He Knoweth and Loveth You, 153 Industry In Children, - 154 Santa Claus on New Year's Day, - . 148 Telephone to Heaven, - 153 The Simple Reason, 169 The Time of the Singing of Birds, - 141 Vacation's Ending, - 156 Where Are the Boys, 162 PAKT THIKD. Ajax' Dreain, 180 Ajax' Second Dream, 183 Ajax' Fright, 186 Ajax' Soliloquy, 188 Ajax' Kindred's Soliloquy, 189 Ajax' Monument, 191 Ajax' Song, 192 Ajax' Meditations, 194 Ajax' Bashfulness, 198 Ajax Looks Beyond, - 200 Ajax votes for McKinley, 201 Ajax' Conclusion, 204 Ajax is Chastised, 206 Ajax at the Centenial, 207 Ajax' Appeal to America, 211 Ajax' Death (A drama.) 217 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY Los Angeles This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. Form L9-100m-9,'52(A3105)444 THE LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF LOS ANGELES Coffin - 13^7 Coffin's poems C661A17 , 1B97 111 iiiiiiiiii mil inn A 001375912 PS 1357 C661A17 1897