^1 THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES THE CONSECRATION OF THE TEMPLE, AND OTHER POEMS. PRINTED BY W. R, KING, UPPER PRIORY, BIRMINGHAM, PHOTO-MECHANICAL PRINTS IN PERMANENT INK BY ALFRED PUMPHREY, 62, STANHOPE STREET, BIRMINGHAM. THE CONSECRATION OF THE TEMPLE, AND OTHER POEMS; BY QULIELMA A. WHEELER BAKER MORRIS BAKER, WOODHOUSE LANDS, HARBORNE, BIRMINGHAM. 1888. (All rights resen-ed.) 3 I 3a-^< PREFACE. In obedience to the wishes of the beloved and lamented Writer's relatives and friends — this Collection has been made of her Poems — so expressive of her " )'earning love " for them, as well as of her sympathy with others, who, under trial or in suffering, have been strengthened in deeds of self-denial ; and we trust the faults of compiling will not prevent the volume being an acceptable memorial of the loving heart, the teeming brain, and skilful hand that have in the past wrought for us, but which alas : are now for ever still ; in this hope the Collection has been printed to be so distribu- ted by her family. IVood/iouse Lauds, Harbonie, 2gih 4th mo., iS88. SGCSSx CONTENTS. MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. Experiences of ax Unfortunate; an Essay , Lines written when the Cholera prevailei "Better Moments" Consecration of the Temple Memory .. Charlotte Corday Josephine's Resolves Lines on the Landing of the Mayflower Stanzas— The Silent Land Golden Days that are no more Lines written on returning home by railway Sunset Musings ... A Memory of the Hills Scene at a Slave Sale in the Island of Java Who is a Rock save our God? George Fox and the Impotent Friend Lady Huntingdon's Sale of her Jewels Lines suggested by Millais' Painting of "The Hu guenot" The Departing Year Night Thoughts 8 lO 13 17 19 25 27 30 32 35 37 39 42 47 52 56 61 65 68 CONTENTS. DlRING THE TIME OK IlLNESS CAUSED BY A CaKRIAc;E Accident 69 "What are the wild waves saying?" .. .. .. 71 Martha and Mary 75 Under the Rod 77 Fragments 79 Return (after being lost) of Tipppo Saib, the Dog at the Five Ways ... 80 Tip, the Dog .. 81 ANNIVERSARY GREETINGS. Birthday Greeting to M. A. W A New Year's Address To , WHO wished that she was beautiful To M. A. W., ON HER Marriage To MY LITTLE NitCE To her Four Maiden Friends .. To M. B To J. J. S,, ON his Marriage To MY DEAR Mother Ditto ditto Ditto ditto To MY beloved lamented Mother To MY dear S. Lines addressed to her Brother, R. S., before si ON his long travels I>5 86 88 91 93 95 98 100 103 107 III 114 iiS CONTKNTS. " Say something to strengthen M. A.'s faith." S. S. ... Address to H. B., on her 77TH Birthday New Year's Address, 1879, to the bedridden women in THE Birmingham Workhouse The Golden Wedding of B. H. and C. B. C. The Silver Wedding Little Birmingham Rough To W. M. and a. M. B., on their Wedding To H. S., ON her return to America To A. W. P., ON his Marriage To her Niece, G To M. A. P Lines to M. W. B Address to E. 1^ Phantasmagoria PAGE 122 126 128 131 133 138 140 141 142 145 147 152 154 MEMORIAL PIECES. Lines on the Death of M. P On the DK.vrH of F. E. P An Acrostic Links on the Death of S. A. F Lines in Loving Rfmf.murance of Makia Baker In Memory of mv dear Mother In Memoriam. II. K In Memoriam. A. B. II 163 165 167 168 172 177 182 1S5 CONTENTS. In Memoriam. R. S. Lines suggested by the Death of Margaret Ellen and Lilian Rebecca Baker On the Death of B. E., addressed to her Mother On the Death of R. S.— To her Brother and Sister .. To MY dearest Sister.— After the Death of her son A. H. P Lines On hearing of the Death of L and S. Robson The Old Grayeyard John Maynard Lines on Memorial Card... Memorial Card PAGE 189 194 196 205 206 208 216 220 221 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. To face Page G. A. W. Baker, about 1875. Negative by Whitlock. Frontispiece GuLiELMA A. Wheeler about 1855, from old Photograph ... 7 The Huguenot. Printing Negative by A. Pumphrey, taken from Proof Engraving by arrangement with B. Brookes & Son, London, owners of the copyright .. 61 J. R. Seekings and Sophia Seekings in their garden at Five Ways, from an old Photo Negative ... ... ... ... 86 Sophia Seekings. Enlarged from Carte by E. S. Baker 103 Richard Seekings, 1875. Negative by Whitlock 120 Harriet Bottomlev, 1877. ,, R. S. .. 126 WooDHousE Lands, 1887. ,, E. B 133 G. A. W. Baker sitting at her window, 1880, enlarged from Carte Negative by R. S. 147 H. Bottomley at her own door, 1877. Negative by R. S. ... 154 Dobroyd Homestead, 1877. ,, R. S. ... 155 Interior. " Rest as of old, &c.," 1887. ,, E. B. ... 156 Interior. "Renew the memories," 1887 ,, E. B. ... 157 Dobroyd. " 'Tis seen from far," 1S87 ,, E. B, ... 159 To obtain these Prints in Permanent Ink from such ori^-ina/ Photo Negatives and Pictures as ive possessed, of various ages, sizes, and i/ua/ities, it was needful to reduce, enla7'ge, reverse and make nei.v printing films as each case required, all tohich processes have caused some deterioration, which we regret, in the final result. MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. EXPERIENCES OF AN UNFORTUNATE; An Piss ay, SHOWING HOW A GREAT HEAP MADE BUT LITTLE FIRE. "Of making many books there is no end," such Solomon informs us was the case nearly three thousand years ago, and surely if this interminable process has been gomg on so long there is sufficient information for the general mind by this time, without any effort from this wayward brain of mine, which feels even unusually incapable of creating anything on the present occasion. Thus I reasoned myself into feeling honourably excused, till I remembered that it is chiefly for the benefit of the writers themselves, that this excellent society has been or- ganised, and that no one but myself would suffer for my indolence. How selfish we are ! this puts the matter in quite a different light and determines me to rouse myself, and take this latest opportunity of writing something that shall exercise your for- bearance, and effect my humiliation, in the knowledge that it cannot instruct the simplest, unless it be as a warning. Receive it therefore as such and learn before it is too late, to " be a whole man to one thing at a time," and then I shall not have exposed myself in vain. 4 EXPERIENCES OF AN UNFORTUNATE; The first subject that employed my attention was one recommended by a valued friend — the unfortunate career of Toussaint L'Ouverture — and surely if the shade of that noble departed one could know the real indignation I have felt over his almost unparalleled wrongs, and against his treacherous per- secutors, he would appreciate the humble offering. Having composed a dedication I hurried on to some pathetic reflections he was to make in the earlier stages of his experience, of which the following are a part : — " The hours the poor heart esteemeth the dearest, Are ever the hours that soonest are o'er. And how often the sorrows that lie at its surface, Are richer in comfort than those at the core. By rank and not merit, Man's greatness is told, And the hand that works hardest Holds least of the gold." Then it was tedious to go all through his history, so after a few more incoherent stanzas here and there, I left him to die as he could, and vented my strong wrath against the prejudice of colour, in a sort of apostrophe to the Spirit of Slavery to put at the end of the said poem. Here you have it — AN ESSAY. "And thou, Oh I dark spirit that bHghtest a nation, And spreadest a curse with thy shadow around, Withholding from man the glad news of salvation, And crushing his nobleness e'en to the ground ; Thou hast sundered the claims of affecdon and duty. Hast turned in a moment rejoicing to woe, Thou hast taken the light from the bright brow of beauty, And the impulse of freedom in manhood laid low. Thy throne is a mart for the sale of immortals. Thy sceptre the lash ever ruthlessly worn, The groans of the slave are thy well-filling anthem. And the stains of his blood thy escutcheon adorn. But wherever thou goest there follows behind thee, A message like this from beyond the cold grave, Jehovah hath heard the long cry of the captive. Hath heard it in wrath and he cometh to save. Consider, oppressor, the ^;/^/ of all Hving, And leave not thy brother in bondage to pine, Lest, when his brow reflecteth the glad light of Heaven, The dread flames of vengeance for aye darken thine." 6 EXPERIENCES OF AN UNFORTUNATE ; This done, I laid down my subject as lightly as I took it up, and never concentrated my thoughts upon it again, indeed I don't think I fully did on anythmg for some time, but kept my mind as empty as possible. Things were going on in this way when I was struck with a sentiment expressed in my presence, to this effect : " I care nothing what people think of me so long as they don't express their opinions."' This gave rise to a train of thought on the " World's opinion,'' and I pretty much concluded to write a glowing dissertation thereupon, but all that soon vanished and left only the void aforesaid. From time to time other abstract subjects arose in my mind, and again I hoped to write an interesting prose essay, but I generally took a dislike to my thoughts the second time I recurred to them. Then I turned my attention to poor Cardinal Wolsey, and in spite of his detestable ambition began to feel so kindly towards him, that I was very near dedicating a poem to his unhappy memory, but somehow it slipped through ; so I went on from week to week, till at last in despair I determined to write with- out a subject, anything that occurred. It seems so a propos of my story that I will give it here — what there is of it : though all the while painfully conscious that unfinished scraps have never before been offered to this august assembly, and am sorely abased to be reduced to such shifts. 1 did not intend to make this more than a sheet-full, AN ESSAY but really the lines are at such an unsociable distance. By the way, I am utterly shocked to see so much of the first person singular, that I wish I had adopted the plural, but 'tis too late now. Now I'll go back to the turning point. It seemeth pleasant unto me amid this changing day. To turn attention to its case, as briefly as I may, Each day a mortal liveth, some more of this he learns, There is so much of turning, and taking things in turns ; The wheel of fortune turneth, but fitfully and slow. And they who ply it hardest, fail most to make it go ; Dark locks turn white with sorrow, and labour turns to gold. And some have even told us that loving can turn cold. In idle times we often turn our prosy thoughts to rhymes. And e'en the most untoward will take a turn sometimes. The many turns of social life we constantly discern. So I, all fearful lest I should your patience overturn. Will turn away and humbly add, to those who hear my lay, From that which turns too often turn cautiously away. 1853. LINES WRITTEN WHEN THE CHOLERA PREVAILED. Cold fell the dews from the measureless height, Starless and solemn and still was the night As the lap of chaos where Earth was nursed, When a voice through the darkness and silence burst Methought from the Throne where the seraphim sang, And louder than thunder its accents rang. " Spirit of Pestilence ! Spirit of Wrath ! " Too long thou hast slept on humanity's path, " Too long hast thou folded thy sable wing, '* Arouse thee ! for Earth is deserving thy sting. '* My people have dwelt in transgression too long, " My name is too often unheard in their song, " The vows of subjection are quenched in their birth, " And their incense comes up with an odour of earth. " I have given too greatly of bliss in their track, " I must chasten them sorely to gather them back. " Spirit of Pestilence ! scatter thy breath, " Multiply sickness and sorrow and death, " Go in the strength of my vengeance unbound, LINES WRITTEN WHEN THE CHOLERA PREVAILED, '■ Visit the households where gladness is found, " Visit the hearths of the high and the low, " And deal on the dearest thy terrible blow ; " Till man, who in joy is forgetting my name, " Shall learn in affliction his frailty and shame. " But a voice beneath and a voice from above " Entreats me to mingle my judgments with love ; " Then breath of the Pestilence, pass thou on, " Till the full of thy chastening task be done ; " But my blessed Son shall control thy rein, " And send a l)alm with thy darkest pain ; " He knows the sorrows His children feel, " He will not wound and forget to heal, " Where thou walkest in darkness Himself hath trod. " My people's Saviour, the Lamb of (jod I 1848. lO " BETTER MOMENTS." " Better moments," gleams of heaven, Brightest things in mortal trust, When the soul to peace is given, And temptation bows in dust ; All is bright, the wide earth o'er. All is joy the heart within. Earthly passions lose their power, Jesus breaks the bonds of sin. Faith's bright eye discerns more clearly Realms of beauty from afar. Wisdom's voice is heard triumphant. Such our •' Better Moments " are. Guiding stars of saintly splendour, Borrowing from Heaven's King All the beams of light they render. All the train of thought they bring. Why are not these envied seasons Oftener in our pathway strewn ? " BETTER MOMENTS. There must be some weighty reasons Why they are so seldom known ; 'Tis true, our nature chooses The treasure that's most rare, And we often fail to value Common things, though fair. Beaming 'mid surrounding darkness, One lone star shines doubly bright, But when thousands gem the azure No one marks the single light. Finding water in the desert, Rapture lights the pilgrim's eye, Had his path been stud with fountains, He would then have passed it by. So it is with better moments, Did we never know their dearth, We should soon forget our frailty. We should soon forget their worth ; Thus it is the Father teaches That our times are His alone ; Thus it is we learn thanksgiving, Feeling nothing is our own. 12 ' BETTER MOMENTS. " Better moments," " better moments," Waft our grateful thanks above, Waft our homage to Jehovah, For such tokens of His love. " Better moments," " better moments,"" Onward in your bright career, Enter every soul and nation, To proclaim that God is here. 6th month, 1849. 13 CONSECRATION OF THE TEMPLE. I Kings viii, 2 Chron. vi. The King bowed low on his brazen throne, Where bright on Moriah's fair summit shone, In the dazzHng Hght of an eastern sun. The glorious House of the Holy One ; And the countless myriads breathless knelt Around the cloud where Jehovah dwelt, While ascended the monarch's prayer : — O Lord, God of Israel, who reignest above, Peerless in justice and perfect in love, God of my fathers, who walked in Thy ways. Look on the house I have built for Thy praise ; And when prayer from this temple is borne toward the sky. Then hear Thou from Heaven Thy dweUing place high, And hearing, Oh Father, forgive I If man, to whom evil and weakness belong, His friend or his neighbour shall wilfully wrong. CONSECRATION OF THE TEMPLE. Yet repent of his sin toward his brother and Thee, And hoping for grace to Thy footstool shall flee, If his prayer from this temple be borne toward the sky, Then hear Thou from Heaven Thy dwelling place high, And hearing, Oh Father, forgive ! If Israel (whose fountain of power Thou art) Her dependence forget in the pride of her heart. And fighting should fail "neath the enemy's sword. Yet humbly repentant return to her Lord, If her prayer from this temple be borne toward the sky, Then hear Thou from Heaven Thy dwelling place high, And hearing, Oh Father, forgive I If Thy people be chastened with dearth in their land. Or pestilence spreadeth his withering hand, Whatever the sickness or sorrow may be, If they turn from their sin and seek pardon of Thee, And their prayer from this temple be borne toward the sky. Then hear Thou from Heaven Thy dwelling place high. And hearing, O Father, forgive I If we sin (and Thou knowest we are but as dust), And kindle Thine anger eternally just. CONSECRATION OF THE TEMPLE, 15 The Jew or the Stranger, the bond or the free, Who e'er may seek blessing and pardon of Thee, If their prayer from this temple be borne toward the sky, Then hear Thou from Heaven Thy dwelling place high, And hearing. Oh Father, forgive ! And now. Oh Thou God of Salvation appear ! With the beautiful ark of Thy covenant here ; Oh ! hallow this temple and make it Thy rest, Let its priests in the robe of Thy glory be drest, Let the saints Thou hast saved in Thy fathomless love Behold Thee descending in light from above, And shout — That their joy is in Thee. So Solomon spoke, and his prayer being ended, On his offering fire from Heaven descended, And loud thro' the temple high glorying rang. While the people in one mighty utterance sang — " Oh praise ye Jehovah ! eternally praise. For good are His purposes, great are His ways, And His mercy abideth for aye/' Lord 1 Thou hast seen how that tem])le decayed. Not a stone may now trace where Thine altars were laid; l6 CONSECRATION OF THE TEMPLE. The glories of Moses are faded away, And our Monarch, Thy Jesus, hast taught us to say — When prayer thro" His Spirit is borne toward the sky, Then hear Thou from Heaven Thy dwelling place high, And hearing. Oh Father, forgive ! 1 2th month, 1849. I? MEMORY. Roll on ye dark waters of Lethe I Roll on ! O'er the hearts that would banish the scenes that are gone, O'er the traces of forms that still fondly entwine, Yet banish not one from the tablets of mine. Not one— save the ills that my folly deserved, Hide them if ye will, so the rest be preserved ; The accents of sweetness, the glances of love. Oh ! let me still fancy their glow from above. But why do I ask? I know that tlie world From the face of Creation would sooner l)e hurled, Than I could forget, or remembering, scorn. The early joys given my path to adorn. Oh : " there's joy in the grief of recalHng the hours, When the footsteps of lost ones were pacing with ours, When the voices now silenced, by distance or death. Would respond to our own in each love speaking breath. D MEMORY. We'll thank thee, kind memory, more strong than the grave, And we'll fervently thank the Creator who gave, For this we could deem His blessings the best, The fulness of feeling in every man's breast. It may calm the wild passions that rage in the soul, When pride will refuse every other control : May refresh the lone spirit when worldlings upbraid. For love hath not left vacant the place where he laid. Then if such be thy might we will cherish thee still, Nor complain that thou raisest despite of our will, When the curtain of joy oer the hours is spread, A prayer for the parted — a sigh for the dead. About 184S-9. 19 CHARLOTTE COR DAY. Methinks 1 see her standing beside a lowly bed, An earnest maiden young and fair, but grief hath bowed her head, The last rich hues of sunset for once unnoticed fall, Upon the laden orchard trees and on the garden wall ; For Death, a new unwelcome guest, this tranquil eve had come. To take the tender mother, of that bright village home, 'i'he daughter stands dejected and with fast falling tears. Reviews the love unfailing that blest her bygone years. Then cried in broken accents — " Oh mother, must it be 1 I am too young — too passionate, To lose a friend like thee. Who now will curb my stubborn will And tenderly advise. When zeal would lead me madly on, And burning passions rise ? " 20 CHARLOTTE CORDAY. A smile was on the speechless lips, a smile that fondly said — There is a changeless Friend above can shield when I am dead, But Charlotte did not read that smile, or read it not aright, She only thought " My bliss is gone, my life hath lost its light." Within the shelter of her home awhile that maiden stayed, O'er the fair hills of Normandy full oft again she strayed, But if you saw her speaking face, there seemed a something there, A look that maidens" faces, not oft are wont to wear ; It told no selfish passion, it told no light romance— Her country was degraded — the bravest blood of France ■ Was flowing on the scaffold, and every prison gate Enclosed the great and gifted, while monsters ruled their fate. She saw the glory perishing, yet saw not who should save : And when there stood beside her a manly form and brave. Who fondly sought with fitter theme her earnest thought to till, Twas thus she answered sadly, yet with unbending will — " Nay, bind me not with human love, I know but only thine. And I have sternly vowed to give My country, all of mine. CHARLO'lTE CORDAY. 2 1 " Go, Franquelin, seek some calmer heart Whereon thy own may rest, For Oh I the love of such as I, Can never make thee blest." Her purpose undefined as yet, she pondered day by day, Resolved to give her life for France, she only sought the way, And musing thus she thouglit she saw what hand behind the scene. Upheld the throne of Tyranny and fed the Guillotine ; Already peerless he had grown in sanguinary fame. And all the foul proscriptions bore his execrated name. " Marat shall die," she murmured, In accents low and deep, 'Twas muttered in her day dreams, And echoed in her sleep. " My hand shall end the thraldom, Though bravest hearts despair, My love is strong for saving, My hate is strong to dare. 22 CHARLOTIE CORDAY " Ves, France is ever groaning Beneath his brutal reign, And her best sons bemoaning, Perchance will break the chain. *' No, thus they shall shall not sully The fame that they have won, My vengeance is sufficient, And 111 advise with none. " And when his brother tyrants Shall hear who laid him low. Perchance they too will tremble. Though now they triumph so. She is leaving the home of her childhood, to rest in its quiet no more, Oh ! never, in storm or in sunshine, appeared it so lovely before ; With many a bitter regret, to her friends she is bidding farewell. Till the strife of this sorrowful hour she knew not she loved them so well ; CHARLOITK CORDAV. 2^ But to none her dark purpose revealing, (she knew that full soon they would learn,) She receiveth their love and their blessing, who fondly expect her return. Not far had she passed from the threshold when met by a lovely young child. The light of whose sunny existence her sorrow had often beguiled ; "Adieu ! and remember the love of your friend, tho' we meet again never," she sighed — Then printed a kiss on his wondering face, and a tear fell unbidden beside. The journey is o'er and the struggle is past, emotion hath leit not a trace, As she enters the city of bloodshed and strife, on the calm of her beautiful face Alone to the home of the tyrant, her wandering footsteps she bent. And strong in the strength of a resolute vow accomplished her murderous intent. She stood before her judges, disgraced, condemned to die : Unmoved she stood, until she saw w!iat dimmed awh.ile her eye — 24 CHARLOTTE CORDAY. The tyrant's Widow weeping — she had not thought before That love for such a being would weep his ashes o'er. She goeth to her dying like martyr to the stake, But who shall tell the feelings that in her bosom wake, Her thought remains a mystery whose veil we may not raise, We scarce can blame her vengeance, and yet we dare not praise. The blood she spilt so recklessly, when fortune left the brave, But hasted their destruction, she gave her life to save. Oh I had the zeal unflinching to holier aim been given, Which hurried that polluted soul before the bar of heaven, A bright apostle she had been, and for this doubtful fame A halo of no common sheen had lingered round her name. And more than all that name had been within the Book of Life, W^herein no murderer hath part, or he that maketh strife. I lib month, 1852. 25 JOSEPHINE'S RESOLVES. Few praises I rendered to heaven, Few prayers I directed above, While blest by the light of his i)resence, And rich in the wealth of his love. But now 1 am lone and forsaken, This world hath no treasure for me. The joy of my life is all taken. And sorrow my portion must be. Oh 1 now I can pray to the Father, Beholding him better through tears, Oh ! Thou who forgavest my coldness, And blest me with sunnier yefirs, Be with me in this mine affliction, Oh 1 let not my faith become dim. Confirm thou the knees that are failing, And strengthen each faltering limb. 26 Josephine's resolves. Kxchange thou the hope of the future, For vain lookings back to the past, And the love that was bartered for glory, For that which will ceaselessly last. Then while life be prolonged in this desert. Thy service my business shall be, \\'hich unto the least of thy little ones done Thou sayest, "'tis done unto Thee." loth 4th month, 1853. 27 LINES ON THE LANDINC; OF THE MAYFLOWER, The vessel which conveyed the first company of llie Pilgrim Fathers to the New World. Welcome to those in that vessel now nearing, The sight of the green earth before them ai)pearing ; Fresh and reviving the hope that it brought, For wayworn and pale were the faces then turning More earnest and eager than wont in discerning, The face of the Country whose shelter they sought- Whose shelter they sought from religious op])ression. For them and their people a lasting possession. The home of a Worshi[) unfettered and free ; For this, they had long suffered loss and privation, For this, had forsaken their friends and their nation, Encountering perils by land and by sea And what was their welcome ? no glad sliout of greeting To hail that lone vessel the silent shore meeting. No traces of man but his i^rave in tiie sod. iS LANDING UF THK MAVFI.(J\VER. Yet they joyfully gained it, and reverently bending. The song of their hearts unto heaven ascending. Employed their first moments in praising their (iod. Discipks of Him who was laid in the manger, Bravely they wrestled with hardship and danger, Having counted the cost of the prize they possest ; And \vith solace from that in their true spirits shining, From their children's pale cheeks wiped the tear of repining. Taught so early and sadly this is not our rest. Happy New England ! the feet that then }jrest thee, Have with a blessing ever since blest thee. Men cannot marvel how well thou hast sped ; The Spirit of Freedom th^t gleameth from out thee. The favour of Heaven who shmeth about thee — Was brought with those men from the God who them led. Justly, their children have proudly recounted The struggles their patience so nobly surmounted. In the excellent land they have won ; While England, who once in her waywardness banished, Her shame for her faults in her jjride now evanished, And sdll the best country beneath the old sun, LAxNDING OF THE MAYFLOWER. Respondeth Amen I to tlieir multiplied voices, With motherly [)ride in her exiles rejoices, And earnestly bids them from o'er the wide sea, Maintain all their virtues with fervour unceasing And sjjread evermore unto circles increasing, The cause of the wronged and the hope of the fr 29 181 30 STANZAS In reference to an allusion maile in one of the Essays read at a former uieetini:. in wliich Heaven is mentioned as the "Silent Land." Nav, deem not Heaven a "Silent Land. Recall that gloomy word. For so its bliss were half removed, Our brightest hopes were half unproved, The sacred page hath erred. Silence is truly here below. Our best, sublimest state Where all the holy thoughts that bless, Are far too subtle to express, Too exquisite to wait. But there each grand idea hath sound, And every seraph mind ; However closed and tuneless here, However dull the mortal ear, Will there full utterance find. THE SILENT LAND. ']'here, will the priceless gift of song, To every tongue he given, And to each voice that swelleth there Its own appointed part to bear, Amid the hosts of Heaven. Oh I passing fair that land must be Within its jasper wall I The crystal streams that flow it o'er, And how unutterably more, The light which hlleth all. Yet sweeter that the jasper wall Should echo the new song, Those streams by melody be stirred, And fitter that His praise be heard, Who ruleth those among. Then deem not Heaven a "Silent Land,' Recall that gloomy word. For so its bliss were half removed, Our brightest hopes were half unproved, The sacred page hath erred. 1^53- 32 GOLDEN DAYS THAT ARE NO MORE. Gratefully we mark her footsteps, Light and laughing Spring, As she comes to bear a blessing Unto every living thing ; But she brings a calmer gladness With her budding store, Than she used to in the golden Days that are no more. Oh I how bright Hfe looked before us. Oh : how fair our visions seemed, Witli a conscious power within us, Little dreaming that we dreamed ; Now we find the world no better, And her worth no richer store. For our projects in the golden Days that are no more. We have come down to our places, We have found our little sphere, GOLDEN DAYS THAT ARE NO MORE. ^^ And our visionings are vanished, And our pictures bright and dear ; We are all behind the standard That we raised ourselves of yore, In those confident and golden Days that are no more. Pilgrim comrades, who have borne us Gentle fellowship and blest, By the wayside falling, warn us How we need a place of rest, And the years that hasten onward Gather shadows evermore. Such as never dimmed the golden Days that are no more. So we traced the varied pictures On our morning track, And although the best and brightest Be the farthest back. Ever by that thought upholden. As we tread life's journey o'er, That e'en yet there may be golden Days for us in store. 34 GOLDEN DAYS THAT ARE NO MORE. And whatever earth may bring us, Let us still look calmly on, Thro" the clouds that over wing us, Past the pleasures that are gone. Till this hope our hearts embolden, While we weep life's little store, That we yet shall see the golden Days that last for evermore. 4th month, 1854. 35 LINES WRITTEN ON RETURNING HOME BY RAIL- WAY, AFTER A VERY PLEASANT EXCURSION. Scenes of brightness thus we sever, Thus we part and pass along, Bright spots from our vision fading. . Fading like a dying song. Sunset hues are richly gilding Field and streamlet, hill and tree, While I gaze the scene is passing, Passing like a dream from me. Gliding, gliding, ever gliding. Far behind they follow fast, So the scenes of Present ever Glide into the silent Past. Oh ! how Uke this life of ours Seems the journey as we go. In this bright yet pensive hour. Deeply now I feel it so. 36 LINES WRITTEN AFTER A PLEASANT RAILWAY EXCURSION. Oh ! how Hke this life of ours In each swift succeeding scene, Leaving, as they chase each other, Little space to think between. Oh ! how like this life of ours In its shadows gathering o'er, Visions dearer in departing. Than they ever seemed before. Slow and soft the view dissolveth, Not a trace is left behind, Save what memory hath printed On the tablets of the mind. For the earth is clothed in darkness, And our days of sunlight o'er, We, no more disposed to wander, Straightly seek our Father's door. Be it so, this life of ours, And when all its light is past, May we rest our weary footsteps In our Father's House at last. 17th 7th month, 1854. 37 SUNSET MUSINGS. Hour of twilight, The best that we know, To thee I would render The tribute I owe ; Oh : thought is the fleetest When wandering there, And song comes far sweetest Through dew-laden air. Richest at eventide Is the bird's lay, For which he has practised The rest of the day; Softest at dew falling Loved voices are, Kindest the thoughts then Of loved ones afar. Should an evil thought ever Find place in thy breast, 38 SUNSKT MUSINGS. Go out at the sunset, And turn to the West : Thy spirit not steeling To lesson so fair, And its holy appealing Will answer find there. Or should thy disquiet From other source spring. Should friendship have failed thee Or fortune found wing, Still watch the sun setting In face of thy care, So calmly cloud gilding, So passingly fair. And the light of the hour Upon thy heart thrown, Will cast a reflection As bright as its own ; Then to Him let heart incense Rise thro' the calm air, Who giveth an evening For every day's care. 8th month, 1854. 39 A MEMORY OF THE HILLS. Oh 1 had I the painter's all eloquent art, I would joyfully now to my canvas impart A picture that still in my memory glows, With the heightened enchantment that distance bestows Till, when ye beheld it, perchance ye would say — No colours in life are so brilliant as they ; This failing, I take up my simpler strain, To the girl that we met at the turn of the lane. 'Twas a scene in a season of summer days bright. Of which every hour was a scene of delight. We had spent half the day on our guardian hill, The rest was appointed for dark Dungeon Ghyll ; So we gaily set out in our new gotten pride, With reason to guide us and little beside, Till we asked if our footsteps had wandered astray. Of a girl that we met at a turn of the way. We marked her as perfectly fit for the scene, By mountains surrounded, with blue lakes between, 40 A MEMORY OF THE HILLS. With the free lofty bearing well learnt among these, With the calm of the lake, yet the play of the breeze ; E'en the cattle she drove with such magical grace. Seemed like us to be under the spell of her face, And sought meekly her gentle instruction to gain, For they too stopped short at a turn in the lane. She told what we asked, with a smile, and was gone. We turned for a moment to watch her pass on ; All rustic the robe on her lithe figure tall, For art gave her nothing, but nature gave all, So calmly possest yet so modestly free, As a child of the hills would be fancied to be. Oh 1 it grieves me to think I may ne'er see again. That girl that we met at a turn in the lane. Yet, perhaps, it was best she should pass like a thought, She might have disproved the bright fancies she brought, And than find her less lovely, less true at the core Than she seemed, 'twere far better to know her no more ; For now she remaineth a perfect ideal, Unmarred by a tinge of the shadowing real, Oh 1 how little she thought when she met us that day, What friends she had made at a turn of the wav. A MEMORY OF THE HILLS. 4 Now, what shall we wish ? mountain maid unto thee, To keep ever as good as we deem thee to be, That multiplied blessings about thee may wait, Far outweighing the cares of thy humble estate, A flowery path on the beautiful earth, A love lighted hfe on the hills of thy birth, To keep all thy graces without growing vain. And still to firnd friends at each turn of the lane. So now, fare thee well, all these blessings be thine, With health and long life and most tractable kine, And when next we revisit thy country so fair. If we still miss our way do not fail to be there. Now I know that my tale is too thinly spun out, I almost forgot what the pen was about. Yet I wist "There are chords'' that could echo my strain, To that girl that we met at a turn in the lane. loth month, rS 54 42 SCENE AT A SLAVE SALE IN THE LSLAND OF JAVA. TwAS an isle across the ocean, one of those that cahiily lie, Plenty crowned and ever smiling, underneath a cloudless sky, Richest blossoms of the tropics blend their glowing colours there, And the sound of lulling music quivers in the fragrant air. Nature hath endowed her richly with her bright and glorious things, Brilliant songsters hover ever o'er it with their dazzling wings. Spreading palm trees offer shelter from the overwhelming heat, And the sea that laves her borders throws its treasures at her feet. But within this land of beauty darkly grows the upas tree. In its rich and verdant forests serpents hold their revelry. Dread the fierce volcano rages with especial fury there. And a pestilential vapour lurketh in the stilly air. But a fouler darker shadow spreads its tainting intluenre round, Marring all the fairy landscape, as it will wherever found ; SCENE AT A SLAVE SALE, JAVA. 43 Mark the scene, where careless thousands gather round the trader's mart, Reckless how his Jiand may sever dearest kindred ties apart. Mark the group now spread before him, manhood's stalwart form is there, Little ones are clinging round him, with young faces full of care, How their tearful faces wander from the seller to the crowd. Then turn back upon each other, and the little heads are bowed. Speaks the stern voice of the trader, " Who accepts my terms to-day ? For nine hundred paltry dollars ye may bear them all away ; See the negro's knowing forehead, he will be a worthy prize, And the children, nothing ails them, nothing but those foolish cries." Not a word or sound in answer : was the price he named too high ? Lower, lower still he brings it, still there cometh no reply. "Come, your offers! why so tardy? let some voice the silence break, Who will give yfz'^ hundred dollars, and the human bargain take?" 44 SCENE AT A SLAVE SALE, JAVA. Still the thickening crowd stands silent, only those faint sobs are heard. And the deep drawn sigh betraying how the strong man's heart is stirred. Once again the trader: "Answer, sturdy man and children three, Who now for huo hundred dollars, takes tnem Hke a srift from me?" Yet from out that crowd still denser, voice or answer cometh none, With despairing glance the trader marks the swiftly setting sun, Wondering much that o'er the faces of those money loving men, Such a spell of human kindness should afresh have stolen then. Oh I the children of the white man how it brought their presence near, Little black hands clasped together round each other's necks in fear. Infant eyes dilate and streaming, eloquent in simple woe. And the thought unbidden rises, — What if ours were troubled so ? But the father's face has brightened with a new and sudden light, All his hoard he now produces, all, and that alas, how light ; Five sole dollars dearly treasured, even with a miser's care, Turns he to the auction table and triumphant lays them there. SCENE AT A SLAVE SALE, JAVA 45 Then upon his knees down falling, thus he prays the standers by, And the large tears slowly gather in ius pleading earnest eye — " For the love of Him who made us, common Father of us all, Who alone has known the anguish of our long and painful thrall, " From whose open hand so largely bounties have been heaped on you, He who owns each act of kindness which ye to his children do, By the love ye bear your kindred, as ye hope to make them blest, As ye hope to gain admittance to the one prepared rest ; " Oh I forbear to offer purchase, know that these five dollars true. Cost, perhaps, to me as dearly, as five hundred would to you, Won by hours of nightly toiling, when the sultry day was o'er, Never till this gleam of freedom, seemed that fate so dark before." Not another w^ord was uttered, not anodier sound arose, Till the hammer's final rapping told the strange and happy close ; Who can tell th;^ negro's rapture as he clasped his children three ? His by law and his by nature, his own children, Yes, and Free I But we know each heart that witnessed all the scene that hap- l)ened there, Must have made the next pulsation with a quicker, lighter air. 46 SCENE AT A SLAVE SALE, JAVA. As they gave the hand of friendship to the happy slave made free, Pressing welcome gifts upon him, in their new found sympathy. Praise to Him who turned the purpose of the people's hearts that day, Men who came with sordid motives, gave their boasted hoards away ; Through the gathered gloom of ages, shineth out a dawn of light, Whensoe'er the sense of justice triumphs over legal might. Be our prayers to Heaven directed, till the plague spot melt away, Till the floodgates open wider to admit eternal day. Till the great truth growing ever at the root of error strike, That however skins may differ. He hath made our hearts alike. 2nd month, 1S55. 47 WHO IS A ROCK SAVE OUR (iOD? How richly scripture doth abound In ahnost every page, With attributes and types of Him, Who rules from age to age. The Sun of spotless righteousness That o'er our darkness rose, The Door no man can open, And open, no man close. The Lion of unconquered might, Descent from Judah's line, The Lamb for sinners sacrificed, The true and living Vine. The Good protecting Shepherd, The bright and morning Star ; Oh ! precious all, to weary souls, These types of Godhead are. 48 WHO IS A ROCK SAVE OUR GOD? But what more cheering than that He On whom our help is laid, Even as a mighty Rock will be, To all who seek its shade. When oft upon a sandy base, Hath stood our place of trust, Until the storm came beating down And laid our house in dust : When oft upon a failing prop We trusted over much, xAnd lived to see our cherished stay Break, yielding to our touch. When change and death and sorrow. Are writ on all below, And bitterly the cry comes up — •• Lord, whither shall we go?" To know there is a Rock of Strength, Immutable and sure. In whom wj cannot trust too much, Or think us too secure : WHO IS A ROCK SAVE OUR GOD? 49 A covert from the scorching heat, A shelter from the blast, A shield from every storm in life. Till all be overpast : Transcendent happiness to know, Poor mortal bowed with care. That thou a welcome guest may'st go And cast thy burden there. On this Rock a standing given, Thine exalted brow Tove-crowned in the light of Heaven — What can harm thee now? Everlastingly encompassed With its presence grand. Sometimes touched by shining pinions From the seraph land ; Oh : how calmly and serenely Can'st thou from thy place on high. See the vales now smiUng greenly. Seemed so weary passing by ; 5° WHO IS A ROCK SAVE OUR GOD ? And can'st praise the Hand that found ihee Wandering on the barren hills, In His mercy's fetters bound thee, Led thee from polluted rills ; And to break thy false dependence, Razed thy fabrics lofty piled. Downward, step by step, he led thee. As a father doth a child : Drew thee downward, trembling, weeping. O'er that low and quiet way, Thou too weak to trust His keeping, And repniing at His sway. To thine utter weakness deigning, All thine old offence forgot. How he bore thy base complaining, Yet His love upbraided not ; And the light His smile shed o'er thee. Raised at length thy drooping eyes. Then thou saw'st the Rock before thee In its solemn grandeur rise ; WHO IS A ROCK SAVE OUR GOD? 5 1 How its streams of living waters Nerved thy failing heart and hand, Streams for which thy soul had thirsted As a thirsty land. Then how weak the foes without thee ! And how hushed the foes within, Everlasting arms about thee. Lightened of thy load of sin. Even earth shall grow transfigured To an Eden land, And its clouds show silver linings, Shining in a father's hand. Till from hence thy God shall call thee. When the earth light waxeth dim. Still 10 mount to fields of azure, Spend Eternity with Him. 8th month, 1855. 52 GEORGE FOX AND THE IMPOTENT FRIEND. 'Tis a sfory quaint and olden, Of the stormy days gone by, Days that taught our seers to suffer, Taught our martyrs how to die. Then the truth grew up and flourished In proportion evermore. To the fastings, bonds, and scourgings Which its champions bore. Great the strength which crowned their weakness, Rich the prize their conflicts won, Shining bright the path they traversed. Slander's lips hath ne'er undone. Dear and sacred every legend Of our faith in early prime, Cherished through the changing ages, Fadeless in the mists of time. GEORGE FOX AND THE IMPOTENT FRIEND. 53 One of these old burden bearers, Weak and worn with gospel toil, With a frame in bondage shattered. Sought in pain his native soil. Arm and hand refuse their office, Hang they lifeless by his side, And the pain grew even stronger As he more physicians tried. Tossing on his weary pillow In the night, he seemed to see, His true friend — our worthy founder — At his weary side to be. In his sleep he thus addressed him — " Friend, I bring my case to thee, For my pain is sore and grievous, In the Lord's name set me free." Thought he, " This is but a vision," And still moaned and suffered on, Weary days and nights were added. And his needful rest was iione. 54 GEORGE FDX AND THE IMPOTENT FRIEND. But the third day rose he early, Struggling from his couch of pain, Was conveyed to Swarthmoor meeting. Through the chilling wind and rain ; There he sat among the brethren, Worshipped with the simple throng, Till the earth noise seemed receding, And more near the heavenly song. But he saw in spirit vision From that Bethel rest a view, Of long years of further service. Wider fields of work to do. When the meeting ended silent, And the worshippers dispersed. To his ancient friend he turned him, Asked him of his health as erst ; Then his own distress recounted, Told the vision he had seen. To the stricken limb he pointed. Which so active once had been. gilOrge fox and the impotent friend. 55 Silently George walked beside him, With a kind paternal grace, Yet an earnest inward seeking, And a prayer upon his face : To his trusting friend made answer, Slowly, as the words were given — " The Lord Himself shall strengthen thee, With speedy help from Heaven." They parted thus, that faithful pair, They parted in the Lord, And from that day the wasted limb Was perfectly restored. True brethren these, their purpose one, One Father on them smiled. He heard this prayer of two agreed, And all their grief beguiled. They toiled together in His name, His seal was on their brow, They bore a kindred cross and shame. They sing together now. 3rd month, 1856. 56 LADY HUNTINGDON'S SALE OF HER JEWELS. " Having determined to erect a place of worship at Brighton, and being at the time rather straightened for money, she (Lady Huntingdon) came to the noble resolution of selling her jewels, and with the produce, amounting to nearly seven hundred pounds, she built the Chapel in Xorth Street, in that town." — Extracted from ^^ James' Protestant Nonconformity.'''' From a lofty sculptured ceiling, Droo]) the lights resplendent there, Showing forth a joyous circle, Noble, gifted, gay, and fair. Wherefore sitteth one so pensive, Mid that festive scene alone ? Scarce the voice of mirth she heedeth Or the music's joyous tone. She hath learnt among the lowly, Of a better joy than this. Learnt that Jesus was her Saviour, And in Him the way of bliss. LADY HUNTINGDON S SALE OF HER JEWELS. 57 "Oh !" she sighed, "where He is wanting, How these earthly splendours dim, Would that I could build a dwelling. Where the poor might worship Him." From the crowded hall she turneth, Seeketh out her chamber still. Musing there, the fire burneth, Kindling noble thoughts and will. Now she stands before her mirror. Gazing on the image there, Marking all the jewelled lustre, And her soft and shining hair. Sternly then, herself reproaching. With a flush of shame she said — " Am I thus a fit disciple. On His lonely path to tread, Who while here on earth He sojourned. Had not where to lay His head? " Then her jewelled hand she raiseth To unclasp that circlet fair. 58 LADY Huntingdon's sale of her jewels. One by one her gems she doffeth, All her love gifts rich and rare. " Once," she mused, " had this resigning Been refused with steadfast No ! Precious still, the love that gave them, But the costly gifts shall go. " Is there need of such adorning On a brow that Christ hath sealed ? What are these poor things to offer For the Pearl to me revealed ? " Richer than the Pearl Bassoran, Brighter than the ruby's glare. Which the topaz cannot equal. Or the finest gold compare. " And though nature clingeth fondly To these gifts of bygone years, Jesus knows I give them freely. And He does not chide my tears." LADY Huntingdon's sale of her jewels. 59 Still those tears fall fast and warmly, Over memories fond and true, As she brings from hoarded casket, All that yet remains to view. Tokens of the living loved ones, And the loved ones deep in grave, Here a ring, and there a bracelet Which her sainted mother gave. " Sainted mother, where thou dwellest, But as dross these baubles are. And I feel thy smile approving. Shining on me from afar. '' Now enriched with love of Jesus, Need I neither gold nor gem. He shall be my crown of glory. And eternal diadem." From the wealth thus meekly offered, Soon uprose a chapel fair. From whose pulpit still the gos})el Is ijroclaimed with pious caru ; 6o LADY Huntingdon's sale of her jewels. While the fair and gentle giver Resteth from her work of love, And I ween, hath brighter jewels In the crown she wears above. 1 2th month, 1856. i*l-. ... -" <^- LINES SUGGESTED BY MILLAIS' PAINTING OF "THE HUGUENOT." The ivy groweth fresh and green upon the garden wall, And soft on flowerets bright and gay its waving shadows fall. How late, more gay and bright than they, the friends who linger there, O'er whose young hearts a deeper shade hath cast its weight of care ; The one how noble in his grief, how gentle, yet how strong, Dauntless to suffer for the right, and proudly scorn the wrong. Firm in the faith, for love of which he meets his early doom. And ere the morrow's sun shall set, must earn a martyr's tomb, iVIust leave her loving company, who stands beside him now. And reads with such a troubled gaze the meaning on his brow, And fondly strives the silken badge upon his arm to tie, At sight of which the murderous host should harmless pass him by; But he resists unflinchingly tho' ill his soul can brook The mute appealing anguish of her imploring look, And firmly, with new courage supplied him from above, Untwines her fingers tenderly from their design of love : 62 LINES SUGGESTED BY MILLAIS' Still, Still, she holds convulsively the hated symbol there, And lends to her beseeching voice the pathos of despair : " And \Wk thou leave me desolate ? how can I let thee go ? The sun will shine in vain for me when they have laid thee low, Ah 1 when we watched the budding leaves bedeck these garden trees. How little recked we of thy fate to fall ere one of these. How shall I see them grow again, and thou return no more? How shall I bear the haunting thought of joys for ever o'er? So young thou art, so excellent, and such a death for thee, If it be sin to ward it thus, that sin be all on me. Nor plead I for myself alone, the Church doth need thy aid. To heal the breaches in her walls the Enemy hath made, To rouse the halting spirit, the drooping soul to raise. Expending in thy Master's work the vigour of thy days ; To point the homeless to a home, to dry the mourner's tear, For work like this, and much beside, thy life is needed here, Would I could purchase it with mine, which evermore shall be Henceforth a blank, a wilderness, when thus bereaved of thee." Oh 1 she may move his human heart, but not his spirit will. For as the conflict keener grows, his faith grows stronger still, And crushing down the bitter thoughts that will unbidden rise, PAINTING OP^ THE HUGUENOJ'. 63 He thus to her impassioned plea unfalteringly replies : " With all my faults and weaknesses am I so much to thee, That thou could freely offer up thy life for love of me ? And vvouldst thou bid me mine withhold, and chose my work and way, From Him who gave and hath the right to take away, He is all lovely in mine eyes, all perfect, good, and true, And when he bids me suffer, I may not choose to do. It stirs my heart to leave thee thus, but thou art not alone, I leave thee to a better care, a love beyond my own, Nor thou forget to think that He, who hath been pleased to fill So very full our cup of joy, can even bless us still. But He could dash it from our lips, and in a moment dim. If we should dare to call it ours without regard to Him ; And though I feel thy tender care that seeks my life to save From bigot wrath of cruel men w^ho doom me to the grave. By the true heart that looketh through that speaking face of thine, ^ I know thou wouldst not have me live to bear the wrath Divine. By that same sign, sweet lady mine, we shall not sever thus, But God will give thee grace to say, ' Thy will be done in us.' " Still looking up she listens that deep-toned voice to hear, Whose words until her dying day will echo in her ear, 64 LTNES SUGGESTED BY MILI.AIS" PAINTING OF THE HUGUENOT. And calmly as she listens on, she from his arm withdraws The badge he cannot reconcile in honour to his cause ; And now upon the blossom'd ground she proudly puts it by. Her earthly hopes are buried there, but she will let it lie. The sorrow softens in her face, a spirit like his own Has kindled there, and finds a \ oice of more exalted tone : " I loose thee now, I let thee go, untrammelled, strong and free, I would not have thy quenchless faith a moment dimmed for me, I would not have one coward blot, or one untruthful sign, To taint thy pure and lofty soul for all the bHss of mine, I'll meekly take my lonely path, and there uprightly tread. Upheld for ever by the hope to go where thou hast led, And memory painting all thou wert shall see in triumph now The added light of martyr's crown upon thy glorious brow ; But this one thing 1 ask of thee, since I resign thee so, When thou hast reached the Golden Land, remember me below. And sometimes linger near the stream whence mortals reach that shore. To watch, and wait, and welcome, my speedy coming o'er, That thine may be the first glad face, and thine the greeting strain. To meet me where no ties of love shall be unbound again I 12th month, 1857. 65 THE DEPARTING YEAR. Smile on, fair Diaii, through my casement shining, Smile on serenely o'er the dying year, Thou art untroubled by his still declining, Thou hast fulfilled the duties of thy sphere. But not so coldly look out human faces. Thro' the clear midnight and the bells' shrill tone. There are who wake to weep o'er vacant places. And more bewail remissness in their own. But still Old Year, 'tis meet that we should render, For all the blessings which have marked thy flight. The simple homage of a vigil tender, Through the last watches of thy closing night. And tho' we read ui)on thy blotted pages. The sickening records of inhuman strife, May brand thy name to all succeeding ages. And shame the mortals who have shared thy life, J 66 THE DEPARTING YEAR. We gladly turn, to brighter scenes still glowing, As nearer way-marks of thy brief career, And own, with grateful hearts, Divine bestowing Of good and perfect gifts from year to year. For gleams of sunshine and refreshing showers. For the snow treasures and the jewell'd frost, For Spring's gay life and all her wealth of flowers, And Summer radiance which our path hath crossed ; For Autumn glory of unwonted brightness. So late and lovely, that beheld from far Stern Winter's icy heart seem'd moved to lightness. And came with gentle tread the scene to mar. Each as it passed, with peace and plenty crowned us, All welco;iie seasons in the lovely round, And we have felt sweet Nature's presence round us, In thrilling excellence of sight and sound. And we have stood, despite our low condition, Among Arts votaries 'mid her Palace walls. And freely feasted our plebeian vision On richest treasures of imperial halls. IHE DEPARTING YKAR. 67 But, dearer still, how many kindly greetings Have blest our going out and coming in ? How many friends preserved and happy meetings? To gild our sojourn among death and sin. Nor less, in darkest seasons and most trying, Has mercy's hand been still extended near, And e'en the chambers where the loved lay dying, Shed leaves of hope to scatter oer the bier. Farewell, Old Year! thy varied mission ended, The pulse of Time shall beat no more for thee. But all thy deeds through countless ages blended. Shall find an echo through Eternity ! i^-^57- 68 NIGHT THOUGHTS. Written durintj a visit to Jersey by S.S., R.S., F. and M. A.P., and A.W. 1' 28th 8mo., 1871. Through the dangers of the night Do thou guard them, Lord of Light, On the solemn sea I What avails my waking care ? 1 can but commend in prayer Those I love to Thee ! Let not their enjoyment fade, In the beauty thou hast made. But renew its glow ; Send them health in every breeze, And the easy heart to please, Wheresoe'er they go. Watch and keep them all the way, Through chill eve, and sultry day, Homeward safely bring ; Thus I leave them, young and old, Safe and blest, if thou wilt fold Underneath Thy wing. 69 DURIN^G THK TIME OF ILLNFSS CAUSED BY A CARRIAGE ACCIDENT, ioth Month, 1872. Through many a weary night time, Through many an aching day, The Rock our mother leant on Has been my prop and stay. And like the pleasant falling On parched <2;round, of rain, Comes — " I am He that healcth ! " Sweet-toned across my pain. And whether hurt or healing, My stricken heart can tell, That " He our lives who holdeth. Will order all things well." My lambs to Him commending, Light seems my load of care, And nothing of His sending Will be too much to bear. 70 DURING THE TIME OF ILLNESS BY CARRIAGE ACCIDENT. To Him I leave the future, And for the past I raise A prayer for His forgiveness, And for His mercy — Praise. 71 WHAT ARE THE WILD WAVES SAYING?' Written one First-day morning at Towyn. " What are the wild waves saying?" To those who are happy and gay — Rejoice and be glad in your beauty, Rejoice and be glad while you may ; From age to age unaltered, We have merrily coursed along, And never a wave has faltered, And never has ceased our song. "What are the wild waves saying?" 0"er the bones in their dark depths laid — They are singing a song of triumph. O'er the broken hearts they made ; They are thundering fearful threatenings Of the hopes they will yet bring down, From the joy of the peasant's cottage, To the pride of the monarch's crown. 72 "what are thk wild waves saving?' " What are the wild waves saying? " When youth and its joys are o'er — They are singing a dirge like wailing, O'er the hopes that return no more ; They are telling of friends far parted, As we list to their ceasekss roar. And sadly muse, as we wander slow, Of their fate on a foreign shore. " What are the wild waves saying ? " Of those in their last long sleep, The cherished ones further parted, Than over the boiling deep ; They echo our wail of sorrow, That never, Oh never more I We shall watch the waves together. Or pace on the sandy shore. "What are the wild waves saying?" In their restless rise and fall — ■ They nre telling the boundless mercy Of the Hand that holds them all ; They say to the sad and the sinful, Take courage and never despair, WHAT ARE THE WILD WAVES SAYING?" 73 There is nothing too hard for the Master, And nothing too small for His care. "What are the wild waves saying?" In the glow of the radiant west — They tell of a brighter glory, They murmur of Home and Rest, They speak of the coming gladness, They tell of the Song of Praise — Like the sound of many waters Which the lips of the ransomed raise. " What are the wild waves saying?" As we pace on the golden sand — May listening ear and inward sense Take in all the meaning grand. And nearer draw, as we list to their roar, To the haven where we would be, Where the dearly loved ones are lost no more. And there shall be no more sea. " What are the wild waves saying?" As they draw us to listen and gaze. In voices that harmonise ever With joyous or sorrowful days ; 74 ''what are the wild waves saying?" For just as the waves take their colour From the sands that are lying below, They borrow their tone and their music, From the hearts that are listing their flow, Towyn, 1S75 or 76. 75 MARTHA AND MARY. What touches of life on the pages appear, That tell of the sisters to Jesus so dear, Oh ! blessed was Mary, and gentle and sweet, The thoughtful and wise one who sat at His feet ; Yet we own to a love sympathetic and true, For the warm busy nature with plenty to do, And can picture her hasting, impulsive and free, "The Master is come, and He calleth {or thee ! " How many since then have brought burdens unshared? And in weariness doubting if any man " cared," How many sad mourners since that day have sighed ? "If thou hadst been here. Lord, he would not have died How many borne down by the ills of their faie, Think the days have gone by, and that help is too late? Look up, thou distressed one, and comforted be, "The Master is come, and He calleth for thee !" " Poor weary one," waiting and watching so long, While He calls for the lovely, the young, and the strong, 76 MARTHA AND MARY. Though He seem to reject thee, and hedge up thy way, And Earth with her bars be about thee to-day. He will not forget, when the process is o'er By which he is dravving thee nearer the shore. And then, Oh .' how welcome the message will be, "The Master is come, and He calleth for thee !" Spring, 1885. 77 UNDER THE ROD. In bliss oft ignoring The need of our God, We come with imploring, When under the Rod. Hie body may languish, A powerless clod. And the soul in its anguish Bend under the Rod. But not without striking. The hoof can be shod, Or souls bow without discipline Under the Rod. Our love has grown brighter When sympathy trod. And lost all our differences Under the Rod. 7^ UNDER THE ROD. Dear hearts that are breaking Above the cold sod, Just think of their waking From under the Rod. The church of the first-born Through sorrow have trod, And those who would follow Must taste of the Rod. Unworthy to name Him, Our Father and God, We long to proclaim Him When under the Rod. And in the dark valley That has to be trod, Our courage He'll rally With Staff and with Rod. 26th 3rd month 1S85. 79 FRAGMENT. Let us live while we can, saith the fool in his blindness, As he stifles the murmurs of conscience to rest, Till the voice that so often has spoken in kindness, Shall thunder a message of wrath in his breast. Let us live as we ought, saith the Christian in meekness, Tho' stormy winds reach us all laden with woe, We have nothing to hope for who trust in our weakness, And the years hasten on and grow dark as they go. The pleasures we pant for when tasted are palling, The hopes that we cherish are laid in the dust. And pilgrim companions around oui feet falling, Teach us Karth holdeth nothing wherein we can trust. FRAGMENT. If I might choose the season for death to set me free, In autumn, at the sunset, I would that it should be ; That while the sun was leaving all dark for lack of him, I might awake in brightness whose light can never dim.. 8o Return (after being lost) of Tippoo Saib, the Dog at THE Five Ways. Earnestly Tippoo Saib made his request — Let nie, Oh let me in ! this is my rest, Howling from waggon, home hither I come — Master and Mistress, Oh welcome me home ! They of his yellow form oftentimes thought, For it in waggons they frequently sought. Saying, " In search of thee, where shall we roam, Tippoo Saib I Tippoo Saib ! hasten thee home." Hark ! 'tis the sound of his voice at the door, Falling on ears that have known it of yore. Howling from waggon, home hither I come — Master nnd .Mistress, Oh welcome me home ! 8i Tip, the dog, being on a visit at highgate, returned to his HOME, FROM WHENCE AFTER HIS WASH, HE WAS SENT BACK FROM FIVE WAYS WITH THE FOLLOWING NOTE : I left thee this irorning Without giving warning, As I didn't see thee about, Thought no harm could arise If I gave a surprise To the friends for whose sake I went out. I greeted them madly, They welcomed me gladly, And patted my back every one, They gave me the bones of their mutton, I picked them as clean as a button, And left them to bleach in the sun. Thus with many caressings And edible blessings, Their honours were lavished at first, But more than they gladdened me, Sorely they saddened me. When my form in a tub they immersed, 82 But though audibly groaning And inly bemoaning My rack'd and inscrutable fate, I tried to endure, With meekness demure, The ills that 1 could not abate. This of fleas has bereft me, The dirt has all left me. And as for the infant that troubles thee so- I think I am fit For a plaything for it, I am such a clean little Mo. ANNIVERSARY GREETINGS. 85 BIRTHDAY GREETING TO M. A. W. Many happy returns of the day, Once more shall my greeting be, The same our fathers breathed of yore, The same we hear wide England o'er, Will fondly rise for thee. May friends remain to hail the day, With this familiar prayer, However far thy lot be cast, However long thy being last. In this abode of care. 'Tis sweet to hear old tones again. That childhood's records bear, From hearts as warm and lips as true, As those our merry childhood knew. When life was all so fair. Then again, " Many happy returns of the day,' In honour and friendship and love. Till its date shall be lost in Eternity's page. And praises and glory for ever engage Thy limitless birthday above. 86 A NEW YEARS ADDRESS. Father, who hast deigned to h"sten To my simple notes of song, Mother, who hast ever kindly Helped those feeble strains along, You I would salute this morning With a full and fervent love. Heaven bless you on its dawning, From its huly heights above. See another year descending In his sure but noiseless flight. On his motley record blending Grief and gladness, depth and height Heaven fill the page with blessing, Earth look smiling on his train, Love and health and peace and plenty Sanctify the coming reign. To mankind wherever dwelling May his wing a blessing bear, c^^ .^a^^^^ J^ A NEW year's address. 87 To each heart that ever sweUing Offered up a sigh or prayer, To each soul that ever panted, Ever longed for better things. Ever suffered losses — crosses, Blessing on the stranger wings. But for you, for you most fondly, I would ask the year to bring Blessings of the store and basket, Blessings in the household ring ; Blessings in the sons around ye. In your daughters, even she Whose untoward actions wound ye. Ever your unworthy G. 88 TO , WHO WISHED THAT SHE WAS BEAUTIFUL Oh 1 do not sigh for beauty, That gift is but a snare, 'Twould only serve to make thee Think this dark world too fair. Remember how thy Maker With joy thy cup hath filled, Who fashioned all thy members Exactly as He will'd. Nor breathe a sigh if haply, As I have often done, Thou standest like a shadow Beside some fairer one. And seest the kindly glances That every turning eye, Will beam on thy companion. But coldly pass thee by ; TO , WHO WISHED THAT SHE WAS BEAUTIFUL. 89 They know not of the feeHng That fills thy fervent heart, They care not that their coldness Should make thy bosom smart. Then turn and seek the jewels In thy deep soul impearled, Far better than the friendships Of all the fickle world ; They could not give thee pleasure, They could not glad thy heart, And those whose love is treasure Will love thee as thou art. Let homely forms be slighted. Let Beauty dazzle on. But we will seek our portion When earthly charms are gone. To stand with countless angels On thrones of light above, In Jesus' rolje of righteousness, And victor crown of love. 90 TO , WHO WISHED THAT SHE WAS BEAUTIFUL Then do not sigh for beauty, That gift is but a snare, 'Twould only serve to make thee Think this dark world too fair. 91 TO M. A. W., ON HER MARRIAGE, [19th 1st month, 1853.] Stay and listen to the blessing for a moment, sister mine, Of a heart whose tones have often answered silently to thine, Love for thee right well thou knowest deathless in its depths I hold, Tho' that love has been too selfish, tho' that heart has been too cold. Oh ! could I recall the bygone, much that has been should not be, I would be a better sister, and a truer friend to thee. But I know that 'ere I ask it, thou wilt freely now forget Every trace of slight or coldness, but the love shall follow yet. Yes ! 1 bless thee with the fullest that this wayward heart can frame, On this day when thou must enter on another life and name. May that life flow smoothly onward, and that other name be known For the gentleness and goodness which thy maiden years have shown. 92 TO M. A. W., ON HER MARRIAGE. Then may the Sun of peace and love for ever round thee shine, And touch of care but Hghtly press on that dear brow of thine, May true friends thicken in thy path, and passing all may He Whose blessing maketh truly rich, impart that wealth to thee 93 TO MY LITTLE NIECE. Fain am I to take the pencil, Little niece of summers three, In a simple lay to tell thee How I fondly think of thee. I love thee for thy mother's sake, Who loveth thee so well, And for thine own sweet innocence. Oh ! more than I can tell. Sunny thoughts unmixed with sorrows, Sunny eyes that see no shade, Happy days and hoped for morrows Are thy portion, little maid. Long, darling, be it thine to wear That smile of rosy bliss. Ne'er laid to sleep without a prayer, Or woke without a kiss. 94 TO MV LITTLE NIECE. And since the day I saw thee first Where e'er I find a place, To name the names of those I love Before the throne of Grace, Thine infant name is added there. And tenderly I pray That He who gave thy joyous life, May guard it every day ; May make thee rich, possessing What wisdom deemeth best, And keep thee still a blessing. Thereby becoming blest •. And most I pray that thou mayst give. Ere earthly shadows dim, The best love of thy glowing heart. Without reserve to Him. nth 1 2th month, 1856. 95 TO HER FOUR MAIDEN FRIENDS, A. B., A. M. K., M. K., AND E. M. B. Will ye take a loving greeting, comes into my heart to write, Ere I give my thoughts to slumber on this bright and bahny night, As I think I see you gathered once again beloved four, Happy in your maiden friendship, undivided as of yore ; Picturing how in social converse lights up each familiar brow, As ye pass the pleasant hours which ye feel are measured now, Dwelling on the happy bygone with its joys that could not last, Looking on into the future which a cloud hath scarce o'ercast. While the blissful present glideth noiseless and unnoticed by, Let it claim your thoughts a moment while your eyes are glad and dry, Stop and realise the changes your departing hence will make, Think on those whose life henceforth shall be darker for your sake. 96 TO HER FOUR FRIENDS. At the festive board and hearthstone other forms may take your place, Other hands may leave their traces in the haunts which yours did grace, 'Mid your classes in the schoolroom other voices may be heard. In all places we must elsewhere look for kindly smile and word. l)Ut dear friends, and tried, and early, think not ye shall be forgot. Strange will grow familiar places where your gladsome smile is not, In our sorrows we shall ever miss your gentle tones of cheer. And our joys will seem less joyous when your presence is not near. But our love shall haunt you ever through your sad and joyous hours. May the hearts ye go to gladden prove as fond and true as ours. They may be more wise and worthy, must be far more dear than we, But we know whatever ye find them we shall not forgotten be ; And though our paths diverging must divide the friends of yore. And we may be to each other such as we have been no more, Whensoe'er we meet hereafter, added years on every brow, May it be with brightening faces and as glowing hearts as now. TO HER FOUR FRIENDS. 97 Blessings on you, parting loved ones, from our inmost hearts they rise, May ye find a life of gladness spread before your grateful eyes, Seeking yet your best and dearest in a future world above. For this " Earth holds " nothing perfect, no, " not e'en a perfect love." Yet be yours a blissful foretaste of the joys that flourish there. Whatsoever cares may press you, whatsoever griefs ye bear, May ye know that Peace untroubled which is not a worldling's lot, xA.nd the love that hopeth all things and the faith that faileth not. Fare ye well, the thought of parting wakes a yearning for that day When dividing, change, and sorrow never shall intrude for aye ; May we serve our Friend and Father howe'er wide our lot be cast. And His House of many mansions reunite us all at last. 19th 5th month, 1858. 98 TO M. B., With a silver-mounled Rule, containing a Pencil and Knife. Had I offered thee, dearest, the costhest treasure, It would have been equally vain to convey, A love which the longest of rules cannot measure, Which no knife can divide and no pencil portray. And though thou hast seen in me many shortcomings. Since the day that consigned me heartwhole unto thee, Thou knowest thy comfort, thy love, and thy pleasure. Are dearer than all existence to me. And may He who knows where our love is imperfect, Refine all the dross and the worldHness dim. He gave thee to me as a good gift and perfect, WHiich I can best own by commending to Him. May He help us together to follow his bidding, More closely, more gladly than ever of yore, Seeking chiefly the light of his love in our dwelling, And the peace which He gives above basket and store. TO M. B. 99 And when it shall please Him by death to divide us, May He who can sweeten the bitterest pains Give the joy of His Rest to the one who is taken, And the balm of that thought to the one that remains. lOO TO J. J. S., ON HIS MARRIAGE. Think not thy sister failed thee In sympathy and love, The day that bound you each to each, Till one is called above. My thoughts all day were with you, And loving prayers did rise The more, that one who loved so much, Has passed into the skies. One heart that bounded with thy joy, And felt thy hghtest care. And hath encompassed all thy life AVith christian love and prayer, To think where he is lying Your festive joy would dim, But we must count the glory That is revealed in him. TO J. J. S., ON HIS MARRIAGE. lOI Do thou in life's outsetting Select the path he trod, So shalt thou tind a blessing From such a father's God ; Resolve by his example, Where'er thy tent may stand, That God shall have an altar And guide thee by His hand ; And may thy fair companion Uphold and strengthen thine, Thus in your love maintaining The element divine ; And may our vvidow'd mother Still find great joy in chis, That all her cherished children Are on the road to bUss. Keep love within your dwelling ^Vhatever else may fail, So shall life's cup of mixture Its bitterest drops exhale. TO J. J. S., ON HIS MARRIAGE. A woman's love is easy To keep or cast away, Do thou remain deserving. And keep it while thou may. I pray you both may prosper In all that life may bring, But life on this side heaven Is a strange uncertain thing ; It may be long and weary. It may be bright and brief. But soon or late it endeth, With all its joy and grief; Oh I when that end arriveth, May all our kindred band Meet those that went before us, In the never changing land. 4th 9tli month, 1866. ^H^vll ^^K^ ^Mm L^ iv. Wl ■ ^ - Ja|" ^^ ' /^ Mk^. '^ muk wi Pm^ *r'.:M 3^ ^=;ii'^ ^1^' i 1^ w ii ;;i^C*o^ (^2^^2,^-:^^2^ I0.3 TO MY DEAR MOTHER. This day returns, dear mother, Our hearts with praise to fill, How much the Lord hatli blessed us, That thou art with us still. Still quick to hear our greeting, And scan our faces o'er. Marking each shade or brightness Soon as it spreads them o'er ; Too quick of hand to aid us, Too quick for us to plead. And with unceasing bounty, Descrying every need ; Many succeeding birthdays Mayst thou be spared to see, .'\nd may each one returning, Bring deeper joy to thee. 104 TO MV DEAR MOTHER. Thine was no idle morning, And in meridian day With toil and care for us, Mother, The hours were worn away ; And now the days are coming, When toil and care should close, Help us as much in spirit. As thou hast done in those ! Review thy whole life's pathway. And tell us has not He Who marked our all its changes, Dealt tenderly with thee ? And though he left tliee lonelv For ends we may not scan, Did not his loving kindness Fill up that widowed span ? And when new ties around thee, And other children came, Again thy life's companion Was one that loved His name. TO MV DEAR MOTHER. IO5 Has He not blessed thy children, Till all with one accord, If He should say—" What lack ye ? " Could answer, " Nothing, Lord ! " Nought but that we, and ours. Were closer "neath His wing, Secure in such protection. Of lacking no good thing. He took one little hostage. And him thou lost so long, Those two for us are waiting The angel courts among. Still may we cling together. All to each other true, Maintaining all the old ties, And welcoming in the new. God bless thee, dearest mother. And send such peace and joy In the new home that waits you. As nothing can destroy. Io6 TO MY DEAR MOTHER. Enrich you with His blessing, And strengthen with His might, And in the quiet evening Surround your path with light. loth 7th month. 1865. I07 TO MY DEAR MOTHER. We're passing hence, dear mother, The rolling years declare. One friend succeeds another, Soon we shall all be — where ? Our Father's hand has chastened. But praised His name shall be. Who through these various changes In mercy spares us thee. He whom we thought would aid thy steps Down life's declining way, Has gone before thee to the land Where tears are wiped away. "Well done, thou good and faithful," Went forth the solemn word. And his meek soul responded — " In thy own time, my Eord ! " Io8 TO MV DKAR MOTHER. And a brother's honoured head lies low, His christian journey o'er, Narrow and toilsome his path below, But he resteth for evermore. And a sisters soul left its wasted clay, Prepared for her sudden doom, Peaceful and calm in thy couch she lay, And we feel she is safe at home, And one more kindred loved one Died by the grasping main, For his young strength strove unaided With the wrestling waves in vain. No more those active limbs shall move On loving service bent, No more those sunny eyes shall beam On happy thoughts intent. But he is safe for ever Where no more change can come, And a brighter smile than we yet have seen Will welcome his kindred home. TO MY DEAR MOTHER. IO9 All these and others have safely pass'd Across to a brighter shore, Tis sweet to thmk of them join'd in bliss With the precious ones gone before. And tho' often thy path may be lonely, And feeble thy footsteps and slow. And discouragements known to One only, Make life seem all labour and woe. Yet oftener standing beside thee In the sheltering strength of his prime, One olive plant is not denied thee, Who pleads no claim nearer than thine. The Lord bless and comfort our mother, And spare her to bless us for long ! For she loveth us like to none other, Tho' we boast other ties dear and strong. Tho' others may read in our foreheads What our years and our frailties have set, While our mother remaineth to judge us, We are young and improveable yet. TO MV DEAR MOTHER. And now that thy strength is decreasing, And we in the noon of our day, We feel that our debt is increasing, Tho' not so our power to repay. Then take for the dced^ dearest mother, The will from us all, and from me. And iffiagific the gifts rich and goodly. We proudly would lavish on thee. So now to the greatest Dispenser, I leave my poor offering thus — The Lord in His mercy reward thee For all thou hast done unto us 1 oth 7th month, 1867. II I TO MY DEAR MOTHER. Cold m)^ heart must be and world-worn if I keep an idle pen, On this day of thy attaining three score weary years and ten, If a daughter's homely greeting can beguile one season lone. And a song of praise and blessing reach our Heavenly Father's throne. Yet again His love has spared thee, still to bless and do us good, And to pray, as oft thou doest, in thy peaceful solitude ; Asking all things good and needful to enrich thy children's lot, But the first thou soughtest ever for the things that perish not. Flesh and heart may foil in gazing backward o'er the varied years, Where the love that blest thy childhood ? Where the hands that wiped its tears ? Where the friends that walked beside thee in thine active earnest youth ? (Ever well and wisely chosen and retained with loyal truth.) And as life's great aims grew deeper, Where the friends that blest thy prime ? E'en of these how many loved ones have escaped the carcs of time ? 112 TO MY DEAR MOTHER. Partial eyes that marked thy doings, loving tones that cheered thee on, Well thy heart may droop, dear Mother, when such earthly props are gone. May He be thy strength and portion who hath ordered all thy way, Of His own exhaustless power grant according to thy day, Compensate declining nature with the grace that comes from Him, And the inner light replenish as the light of earth grows dim. But tho' brightest days are over and some loved ones may not meet, Tho' thy native hills no longer thou can'st tread with bounding feet, Tho' thy limbs are weak and feeble with a long life's restless wear, We shall ne'er forget thy kindness, ne'er forget thy toiling care. And 'tis now our joy and blessing to behold thy long-loved face. On whose page so many stories of our pleasant past we trace, Knowing all thy early kindness, always there if unexpressed. And regard thee ever dearer as thou drawest near thy rest. Blessings on the loved and honoured that approach that rest with thee. Aged heads going down in glory where no more distress can be ; TO MY DEAR MOTHER. II3 On the self-renouncing sister, oft of late so near thy side ; On the gentle loving spirit whom thou chose our youth to guide ; All the brothers, all the sisters, that still walk earth's shades among, All have owned the Lord who bought them and have loved His service long ; On the tender hands that nursed thee in thy weary days of pain, 'Twas a service self-rewarding, but the Lord will pay again. But farewell, beloved Mother, infant voices check the pen, Given back Irom fever sickness to rejoice our hearts again, With a thankful glowing spirit thus, I leave thee and repair — Where the fragrance of hay harvest permeates the summer air. loth 7th month, 1869. 114 TO MY BELOVED LAMENTED MOTHER, ON THE ANNIVERSARY OF HER BIRTHDAY. [loth 7th month, 1S72.] Last year instead of ])roffer'd gift, Thou asked a verse of mine, It seemed too poor a thmg to give, Noici take my tardy line. I cannot offer aught beside, Or touch thy hand again, The glory of the summer time Is dimm'd for me since then. Dim, dear one, with thy leaving, Yet grudge we not thy rest, ■■ Though heads grow white with grieving, 'Tis joy that thou art blest. For passing fairest landscape That e'er rejoiced our eyes. Is that which meets thy vision now Beyond these changing skies. TO MY BELOVED LAMENTED MOTHER. II5 Within the jewell'd portals Thou enter'd without fear, And songs of bright immortals * Fill thy enraptured ear. Oh ! could'st thou for our longing Come back to us once more, How could we fitly welcome, Guest from so bright a shore ? What could we set before thee After the Lamb's new wine, Whose sainted lips have tasted The streams of life divine ? How could our tear-dimm'd faces Refresh the eyes that gaze Upon the King in beauty, All beaming with His praise ? What wonders could we tell thee ? What glorious things relate ? Thou hearest all the angels call — Both " Marvellous and Great."' Il6 . TO MY BELOVED LAMENTED MOTHER. And all the countless glories That crown that " golden shore," Are thine in Christ, and His in (iod, Both now and evermore. These joys abide eternally, No bliss can pass away, And all the weary waiting years Are like a single day. The days that marked our wanderings here No record need above, Where pain and parting, hope and fear, Are lost in joy and love. Another date beside thy name. Stands out among the years. That filld with perfect light thy i)age. And ours with burning tears. Farewell 1 'tis wrong and cruel To wish thee here again, Amid our toil and .sadness, Partaking care and pain. TO MY BELOVED LAMENTED MOTHER. II7 Nay, rather looking onward, We'll meekly ask to be Like one dear soul late landed, Allow'd to come to thee. A rest within thy quiet grave, A home in heaven with thee, And every loved one travelling there, Are all the hope for me. ii8 ^rO MY DEAR S. Nine years have passed, my darling, Since first on us thou smiled, What thankful hearts received thee, Our gentle, caring child. We scarce have known a burden Thy child-love hath not shared, Blest be the bounteous Giver Who hitherto hath spared ; Blest for His lavish mercies On us bestowed, and thee, Who sent our home to brighien, Thee and thy playmates three ; Who kept us all together. And guided day by day. And filled our hearts with gladness. Nor let our love decay ; TO MY DEAR S. I 19 From hardship, cold, and hunger, Has kept us hitherto, And all our pain and sickness Has brought us safely through : So praise Him for His mercy, And love Him more and more, And choose Him for thy Pilot, Thine earthly voyage o'er. He can subdue its storms, love, If such should fall on thee, And like thy father's pity. His tenderness will be. Farewell ! to Him commending, W' hat can I wish thee more ? Commence the life unending. And seek the blissful shore. 29th 4th month, 1870. LINES ADDRESSED TO HER BROTHER, R. S., BEFORE STARTING ON HIS LONG TRAVELS. Tis hard to lose the face whose light has cast So much of brightness on the days gone past, Yet would we strive with cheerful hearts to-day, To wish thee gladness on thy wandering way. May He thy solitary pathway cheer, Without whose knowledge comes no danger near, And recompense with interest to thine own. The comfort thou to other hearts has shown ; Through strange and torrid climes and stormy sea, Stretch out His hand to guide and strengthen thee, Renew thy youth and make more glad thy brow. Only to Him can we commend thee now — Each morn well ask him for thy safe return, And when the skies with evening's glory burn Our prayers shall mingle, that His love and care, May be around our wanderer everywhere. LINES TO R. S., BEFORE STARTING ON HIS LON(i TRAVELS. 12 1 Farewell, dear brother : let me once more say- Health, peace, and safety follow all thy way, And may the Omnipresent guiding Hand Bring thee back safely to thy native land. 2 1 St 4th mo., 1875. 122 SAY SOMRTHIXG TO STRENGTHEN M. A.'s FAITH. S. S. Thus in accents faint and dying. Spake the voice that speaks no more. As she loosed her earthly anchor, Sailing for a brighter shore. Heard I not the sweet beseeching, Plainer than the loudest call ? Tho' more needing help and teaching, Gave I no response at all. Sister mine, forgive the silence. Oft since then I've asked for thee — That the source of strength and guidance Might thy comfort ever be. Has He not restored thy treasures Gently from the border land. Guiding back to thy protection, Feet that almost touched the strand. "say soxMething to strengthen m. a.'s faith." s. s. 123 While our homes reflect such brightness From each fair young head, While our hearts beat joyous music To their bounding tread. Let us ask Him who is able Round our Lambs a shield to be, Feed them daily at His table, Nightly their Protector be ; Supplement our human weakness With His strength Divine, And of His abounding Mercy Fit them in their place to shine ; And for us whose brows are shaded With the weary noontide heat. Unto whom 'mid all our blessings, Come back memories sad and sweet. Let us still both thank and trust Him, Rest on Him each anxious care. In His Hands confide our treasures, Leave our lonely wanderer there ; 124 "say something to strengthex m. a/s faith." s. s. Till Eternity restore us All that time has borne away, And again shall smile before us Those who blest our earlier day. Did our hearts not burn within us. Marking in their course of late. How their love had grown and greatened As they neared the Golden Gate. Other cherished ones are waiting, Sweetly gatliermg where these are, By the same celestial token We can see the "gates ajar." By the same sweet spirit strengthened, By the same bright hope upborne, May we too in faith and patience Learn the joy of sorrow borne ; And whateer our P'ather sendeth, Whether work or pain or woe, Let us in His name receive it, And therein rejoicing go. "say something to strengthen m. a.'s faith." s. s. 125 With His love our sins condoning, On His strength our weakness laid, Shall we not, His bounty owning, Trust Him and be not afraid ? Thus we wait the golden dawning, Even we shall see that day. On our brows the light of Morning, All our sorrows chased away. 24th loth month, 1877. 126 ADDRESS TO H. B., ON HER 77TH BIRTHDAY. The following lines without heading in G. A. W. B.'s handwa-iting, were found among the papers of her Aunt, Harriet Bottomley, whose lowly appreciation of herself had led her characteristically to alter them thus. As though she could not own to all meekness she had crossed out the word "all," and as if it was too much to assume that her days had been guided, she had crossed out the letter "i" and written over it the letters "ar," making the word read guarded ; neither would she assert that the praise, &c., had either been oft or so loud as to have re-echoed; so the word " oft '' and the prefix " re- " were crossed out, this ends the alterations ; but under the last line of the second verse " For thee there is nothing to fear," she had diffidently written, "As Guli feels," adding under the third verse, "5th month, i8th, 1878. G. A. W. B. to H. B." Thou canst own with all meekness and reason How His goodness has guided thy days, And oft in the dreary night season, Thy walls have re-echoed His praise. He is watching above and around thee, In thy loneliest hour He is near, In the arms of His love He has bound thee, For thee there is nothing to fear. ADDRESS TO H. B. 1 27 May He lighten each pain with His presence, x\nd brighten each grief with His love, Till thy feet shall be cooled in the river That gladdens the Zion above. 128 NEW YEAR'S ADDRESS. Written by request of a friend, to read to the poor women in the bed- ridden ward of the Birmingham Workhouse, on the occasion of a New Year's treat. 2nd 1st month, 1879. A good New Year await you, Sisters of toil and care, Your toil is nearly over, Your care to wait and bear ; Taught in the school of sorrow. And purified by pain, How much more I cohld learn from you Than you from me can gain. May He, who gave to loving hearts The wish to cheer your way, Dispense a special blessing, To them and you to day ; Give you fresh strength and courage To make your future bright, And gild the clouds of sorrow With His undying light ; NEW year's address. 1 29 Bless Him for those He spareth, And those He takes away, The weakest frame He stirs with Ufa A word for Him can say. And may the year now dawning, In patience, faith, and love, Bring us all truly nearer Our longed for Home above ; Where no more light of candle. Or sunlight's varying ray. Can aid the perfect glory Of that ne'er darkening day ; Where amid saints and angels, His humblest children meet, And ring their grateful voices Adown the golden street ; Where no more death or sorrow, Or weary moan of pain, C'an dim their eyes of gladness, Or wring their hearts again : NEW YEAR S ADDRESS. With such a Hght before us, With such a Home in view, Wait on with patient meekness, Wait on and trust anew. '31 THE GOLDEN WEDDING of B. H. and C. B. C. Ye who have trod so meekly This vale of strife and tears. With such unbroken harmony Through five decades of years, So full of loving kindness That blended life has been, That many a grateful heart must own, Its influence felt and seen. May every blessing crown your path. Now life's declining ray Is gently pointing to the Light, That never fades away. And when the solemn summons Shall reach your waiting ear — " Behold, the Bridegroom cometh.'" " Haste, for the King is near : " 132 THE (JOI.DEN WEDDING. Then may you lay serenely Your well-worn armour down, White robes will not be wanting, Nor victor "s radiant crown : And you shall see, rejoicing, The face of Him you love, And share with Royal welcome. His Marriage Feast above .' 26th 2nd month, 1879. \ b^ 133 THE SILVER WEDDING. Dearest ! I little thought this day arriving, Would find me powerless from my chair to roam, With busy hands and feet no longer striving To aid the comfort of our modest home. Yet loving hands take up my poor endeavour, Maintaining too a constant care fur me. On you in helplessness depending ever, Blest and rewarded may your goodness be. May Heaven forgive the thought that comes like wailing, While gazing wistful over land and sea. With life bereft of all makes life availing, What of life's pleasure is there left for me ? Hush 1 murmuring heart, amid thy bitter sadness, Dost thou not still Earth's dearest gifts retain ? In love of home and friends, a crown of gladness, And sympathy that lightens every pain ; 134 THE SILVER WEDDING. In friendly love thy head has warmed and rested. From selfish murmurs and oft-rising fear, And others until now unknown or tasted, Have made thee hopeful with their words of cheer. The cup, though bitter, is of Wise Preparing, And bears instructions I would strive to read. Nor may I grow with all thy partial caring. Too self-remembering in my useless need. Though at thy side I walk no more elated. Thy pleasant converse making short the way. Or silent sympathy when speech abated, That left no need of aught that words could say. May a Bright Presence ever walk beside thee, Where my poor faltering steps can go no more, Thro' pastures green, and by still waters guide thee, Till both are safe where every grief is o'er. The Awful Name we scarcely dared to utter, Tho' loved and honoured in our morning bright, Unfolds in sorrow to a Living Presence Victorious Banner in the sorest fight. THE SILVER WEDDING. May His preserving and preventing Guidance Round tiiose He gave us like a mountain be, Under His shadow grant them safe abidance, Until prepared His glorious Light to see. Seal with His impress all their life's behaving, Brave with His strength for every conflict sore, " Keep them from evil " is my constant craving, With force and fulness never known before. Reward an hundredfold their loving tending, From month to month the weary seasons through, Their willing strength unto my weakness lending, And ever trusting time may strength renew. Brothers and sisters of the saints who reared us, How few and precious has that remnant grown, How oft in need their ready help has cheered us. And love unfailing from Life's dawning known. Brothers and sisters to His care commending, Whose treasuring Love has numbered every hair. Who sees how fast the silver threads are blending, Whose heart is touched with sense of all your care. 135 136 THE SILVER WEDDING. Though in the furnace of His sharp refining, He gives us all some ministry of pain, On every cloud there gleams a silver lining. And all our lost ones we shall find again. Oh 1 dear ones all, beloved beyond all telling, This prayer arises in our hearts to-day — May Light divine within your spirit's dwelling. Bless, guide, and comfort you and yours alway ; Till every member of our double clanship. And every member of our clan to be, Join in a strong and holy partisanship, That shall oudast the sun and earth and sea. Though He recall some treasures to His keeping. Our stricken hearts no murmuring thought can dare. Eternal Joy shall end our night of weeping, And Love Divine each broken bond repair. Among earth's shadows Heavenly Light is breaking, And shines around us throu,o;h our saddest days. Making the watches of our nights of waking Holy with prayer and praise. THE SILVER WEDDING. 1 37 Thus may He guide our trembling steps descending, From breezy heights adown the awful steep, Keep us from falHng by His patient tending, And grant us in the end a blessed sleep. A blessed sleep, from which they wake transfigured, To find His likeness on each wayworn brow, Splendour and bliss, to which earth's best is niggard. And all restored for whom we sorrow now. Rhyl, 2 1 St Toth month, 1884. 138 LITTLE BIRMINGHAM ROUGH. " Little Birmingham Rough," was the name that they gave, For the hair that would always stand up in a wave. Thou art not very stately and not very tall. And thy hands and thy feet are the least of them all ; But thu' little, and rosy, and plump thou may be, Thou'rt still indispensably precious to me. And this we have found thee the whole journey thro,' Patient, and faithful, and tender and true. And tho' thou at times inadvertently make — To the mirth of the household — an Irish mistake. We instinctively turn for a fact or a word, To the quick little ears that were sure to have heard ; If a scheme to arrange or a burden to share, Either thou or thy sister must always be there. Ever striving to prove whatsoever you do, Patient and faithful, and tender and true. May One who is able, repay unto thee And thy comrades the good you have done unto me ; LITTLE BIRMINGHAM ROUGH. 139 I dont wish to flatter, but this I must say — In wishing thee happy returns of the day, Whatever thy lot, and wherever it be, I know that these words will apply unto thee, And thy friends will still find thee the whole journey thro,' Patient and faithful, and tender and true 29th 4th month, 1^85. 40 'JO W. M. AND A. M. B., ON THEIR WEDDING. Our desire herewith for you each is, That richly Hfe's sweets you may share, And while halving your apples and peaches, Find love has divided your care. May He who has hitherto blessed you. Renewedly bless you to day, Keep you safe from all sorrow and evil, And lead every step of the way. May you each to the other grow dearer, Whatever your portion may be, And find every stage brings \ ou nearer The Land where no sorrow can be. 1 2th 8th month, 1885. 141 TO H. S., ON HER RETURN TO AMERICA Tho' miles by thousands both of earth and sea Will intervene to keep our hands apart, Thy memory and thy love will ever be Still warmly cherished in each kindred heart. We leave you to the Eye that never sleeps, Who truly shields from danger, pain, and fear, Can bear you safe across the trackless deeps. To anxious hearts that wait your step to hear. And if no more beneath these varying skies, Tis ours to meet upon an earthly shore, And read again within each other's eyes. The record of new uiountains travelled o'er. Yet may we, where no sun shall set or rise, And when no more the surging sea shall roar, Meet when no failing ears or weeping eyes. Or halting limbs shall grieve us evermore. 9th month, 1885. 142 TO A. W. P., ON HIS MARRIAGE. Weve loved thee from earliest childhood, And oft thy kind greeting have heard, But never that once we remember, A selfish or quarrelsome word. May He whose love passeth a brother's, Still thy Friend and thy Counsellor be, And as thou hast dealt unto oihers, In mercy repay unio thee. We reverently ask for a blessing, On thee and the bride of thy choice, May she keep just as fair and as loving. When no longer in youth you rejoice. When in the solemn meeting You pledge until the Lord " Shall please by death to separate." .\nd at the festive board TO A. W. P., ON HIS MARRIAGE. I43 May He be there presiding, As Host and Guest Divine, To each his part dividing, And making water wine ; His Son enclose you round about, And Light His will to learn, The Lord preserve your going out. And bless your home return. Be unto those He chastened A Rock of strength to-day, And in your joy rejoicing. May it be theirs to say — With the Psalmist, " all this is come on us, But Thee we have never forgot, Though the shadow of Death fell upon us," And sorrow for them that are not. You are not of their blessing forsaken, Tho' of visible presence bereft. And the love of the dear spirits taken, Still blends with the love that is left. 144 1"0 A. \V. p., ON HIS MARRIAGE. '' Bless you all," from the least to the greatest, " God bless you ! ' is all we can say, And fill up in the homes of your childhood. The places vacated to-day. We all may join the story : Our God a Shield can be, He giveth grace and glory. No good withholdeth He From those that walk uprightly, Amid earth's shadows dim. And when this life is over, A resting place with Him. 9th 9th month, 1885. 145 TO HKR NIECK, (;. Though our words may be hackneyed and cursory, Dear girl, upon this anniversary, Some greeting is due unto thee. When childhood in womanhood mergeth, And the full heart with grave musing surgeth As it dwells on the mystic To Be. May that future to thee, gentle maiden, With every bright blessing come laden, O'erflowing her flowery horn ; The youth of the spirit that lingers, And strength in thy diligent fingers, To work out their promise of morn. May care on thy brow sit but lightly. And Life's current flow smoothly and brightly, While thou provest to those"that are dear — A comfort in sorrow and sadness, A spirit of Grace and of gladness, Wherever thy presence appear ; 146 TO HER NIECE, G. And may every birthday returning Find thee ever new mercies discerning, With sense of new victories won, Until not by might or by fleetness, But through Him in whom is completeness, Thou hear His rewarding — Well done I 1 8th 9th month, 1885. ''T^^a^;^^ X 147 TO M. A. P. Side by side we have journey 'd together Thro' shady and sunshiny weather, And shared every thought of the way, Till thou by another secured, In new cares and new duties immured, Left thy sister alone on the way. Not alone in the home of our morning. With her who watched o\'er its dawning, And the brave heart that aided her care, While the dear step and voice of young brothers, Made mirth for themselves and for others, In the home to our childhood so fair. Tis o'er, in the place that we cherished. The charm and the glory have perished. And strangers her timbers have trod ; And the dear hearts whose love has so blest us, The hands that so tenderly pressed us, Now rest in the Kden of God. 148 TO M. A. P. Our Greatheart— on whom had descended Their mantle when Hfes care was ended. Who soothed their approatli to the gra\e — Alone met his struggles and dangers. And laid down his life among strangers, Far over the desolate wave : Already his welcoming kindness. Undimmed by our sorrow and blindness, Has gladdened our Arthur above. Sweet sister 1 He worketh Divinely, Who said, " They shall be mine," so benignlv, " When 1 make up my jewels above." To Him let us bring every treasure. In love that He only can measure, And trust He inspires alone ; Who has scattered His blessings around us. And with precious and lovely things crownd us, And things that perplex, can make known. Far more have I need of thy teaching, Yet I come thy forgiveness beseeching, For the love's sake that prompted the words, TO M. A. P. 149 Not forgetting of those who had learned Him. When they spake of the things that concerned Him, How their voices he hearkend and heard Farewell ! may His blessing attend thee, Who can from all evil defend thee, Tho' evil our days be and few ; And anchor our hearts sad and craven, At last in the coveted haven He bringeth His people unto. 24th loth month, 1885. 50 LINES TO M. W. R Addressed to liiiii on liis last birthday, and also interesting as being hei last verses. Thanks, dear one, for the sympathising love Oft bent upon rne from thy pitying face, The hope inspiring that our Friend above, Has touched thee early with His heart of Grace. May He be with thee through thy suffering hours And weary watchings for the light of day, With healing touch, and love surpassmg ours. Making the clouds of sorrow flee away. Outstretched beneath His everlasting arm, Whatever pain His wisdom lets thee bear, To keep thee spotless from Earth's wrong and harm. And teach thy need of His unslumbering care. Alas, my boy, that such unlooked for taming Has laid its bondage on thy vigorous grace, And I no more within its amber framing, Can mark the brightness of thy beaming face 1 TO M. W. B., ON HIS HIRTHDAY. 15: But Other precious ones round both are thronging, Making e'en yet our earthly home so dear ; And in the hearts of all has stirred the longing, To find a place where parting comes not near. Whether in death or life this crisis mergcth, May He still keep us who has kept so long, Who with His chastening His people urgeth. And in the darkness fills our lips with song. 'Tis hard to give thee up to other tending,' But household love surrounds thy couch of pain, And tender hands about thy head are bending. Praying, " Restore him to our hearth again." May He revive thee to new dedications, And stir thy spirit to mans loftiest aims, A heart so bound to all the dumb creation. Will not be wantimr in its human claims. 7th 1 ith month, 1885. '52 ADDRESS TO E. B. What can I do, dear son, to prosper thee ? Thy bark just launching on life s breezy sea, While mine lies idle 'twixt the sea and land, A useless hulk upon the miry strand. I can but ask that He who laid me low- Will all the more uiih my beloved ones go, Lead them unspotted through a world of sin, His Light around them and His Love within. Still mayst thou keep belov'd for ever more, The chetry hea^t that gladdened ours of yore, I'he love of truth and justice naught could still. The cunning hand with ever growing skill May He. in whom they are, give Power and Lij^ht. For all thy journey keep thine armour bright. Ever thy faith and love with life increase, And solve its problems in His perfect peace. ADDRESS TO E. B 1 53 To Him we come with love no words can say, To ask His blessings on thy head to-day — Blessings on earth beneath of joy and love, And bliss unmeasured in the heaven above. Woodhouse Lands, Harborne, 20th 3rd month, 18S4. 54 PHANTASMAGORIA. Sui^gested by the answer of E. L. , who on being asked by S. A. L. if he on his travels had called upon "Aunt Harriet," replied, "No, but I saw her light burning." Yes, youthful traveller, t'was answered well, As the long record of fourscore can tell. 'Tis seen from far with no uncertain ray, Brighter and brighter to the perfect day. II. "Saw her light burning '. " by its cheerful glow, In vivid fancy to her door we go, Receive once more the loving welcome there, Rest as of old upon our favourite chair. Share in the peace that reigns o'er all the place. But most and sweetest on her quiet face, Renew the memories every nook recalls. As plainly as though chiselled on her walls i' u mfm Q 1 ^ J J 1-1 j^ - Q ^ r --