The Project Gutenberg eBook of By the Sea and Other Verses, by Hannah Lavinia Baily.
The Project Gutenberg eBook of By the Sea, and Other Verses
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Title: By the Sea, and Other Verses
Author: H. Lavinia Baily
Release date: July 15, 2012 [eBook #40237]
Most recently updated: October 23, 2024
Language: English
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BY THE SEA, AND OTHER VERSES ***
There are only myself and you in the world, There are only myself and you; 'Tis clear, then, that I unto you should be kind, And that you unto me should be true.
And if I unto you could be always kind, And you unto me could be true, Then the criminal courts might all be adjourned, And the sword would have nothing to do.
A few fertile acres are all that I need,— Not more than a hundred or two,— And the great, wide earth holds enough, I am sure, Enough for myself and for you.
The sweet air of heaven is free to us all; Upon all fall the rain and the dew; And the glorious sun in his cycle of light Shines alike on myself and on you.
The infinite love is as broad as the sky, And as deep as the ocean's blue, We may breathe it, bathe in it, live in it, aye, [Pg 8]It is life for myself and for you.
And the Christ who came when the angels sang Will come, if the song we renew, And reign in his kingdom,—the Prince of Peace,— Reigning over myself and you.
O, then, may I be unto you always kind, And be you unto me always true; So the land may rest from its turmoil and strife, And the sword may have nothing to do.
"You do but dream; the world will never see Such time as this you picture, when the sword Shall lie inglorious in its sheath, and be No more of valorous deeds incentive or reward."
The ocean breezes fanned them where they sat, At leisure from life's conflict, toil and care, Yet not unthoughtful, nor unmindful that In all its weal and woe they held their share.
The rose-light charm and pride of earliest youth A chastening touch had toned to lovelier hue, And the white soul of purity and truth Looked out alike from eyes of brown and blue.
"I covet your fair hope," he spake again, "I cannot share it; all the hoary past Denies that mightier prowess of the pen [Pg 9]The poet claims, and proves it still surpassed
"By sword and musket and the arts of war. And 'twere not so,—the query will return, Albeit such conflict we must all abhor— How should the fires of patriotism burn?
"Their flames are kindled by the flash of arms, And fed by recount of heroic deed; The sanguinary story has its charms Tho the heart sicken o'er it as we read.
"And what were Greece without her Marathon? Or Rome, had not her Caesars fought and won? How reigns Britannia, Empress near and far, But for her Waterloo and Trafalgar?
"And we, know not our souls a quickening thrill At thought of Lexington and Bunker Hill? And with a pride no rival passion mars Greet we not now our glorious Stripes and Stars?
"Yes, friend, I own your theory is fine; I grant your outlook far exceedeth mine In excellence and beauty, in its scope Embracing that millennial age of bliss The spirit pants for while it chafes in this; I covet, tho I cannot share, your hope."
"My hope," she answered, smiling, "is a faith; The kingdoms of this world are yet to be The kingdoms of our blessed Lord, the Christ;— Lord of all life thro' dire and vengeful death— Wrought thro' such sacrifice, unspared, unpriced, [Pg 10]His word and purpose must fulfilment see, And realms by mountains bounded or by seas Must own allegiance to the Prince of Peace.
"I yield to none"—and as she spoke there sped Across the opal beauty of the sea A light-winged vessel, bearing at its head The starry emblem of the brave and free—
"I yield to none in loyalty and love For yon bright banner, but I hold it still As token to the world, all else above, Of peace on earth and unto man good will.
"God gave His land to be the home of man; And all that brightens and upbuilds the home Uplifts humanity; tramp, tribe and clan, Knowing no hearthstone, are content to roam,
"But drawing nearer God the man returns And rears his household altar. In some quest The feet may wander, but the heart still yearns For the soft home-light and the quiet rest.
"Think yet again, good brother, is it not From off such altar, whether it may glow In princely palace or in lowliest cot, That the true flame of country-love must flow? While that enkindled by the flash of arms Is a 'strange fire,' consuming while it charms.
"Lives Greece less nobly in her Parthenon, In what her Solons wrote, her poets sang, Than in the gastly pride of Marathon, [Pg 11]And kindred fields where victors' praises rang?
"And we, enriched thro' Commerce, Letters, Art, Forgot our earlier grievances and scars, Are we not ready for a better part? Have we not now outgrown our need of wars?
"Surely it should be so," he made reply; "The sated earth cries out against the flow Of human blood: 'How long? how long?' The cry Must pierce the heavens from writhing hearts below.
"But men heed not; the glamor and the gain Of warfare blind them to its sin and pain; They know not pity and they count not cost Till armies meet and life and cause are lost.
"Would they but listen 'twere an errand blest To plead against oppressor for oppressed; Would they but follow it were joy indeed Up the white hills of truth and peace to lead.
"But, ah! the multitudes are gone astray, The powerful of the earth will have their way; What profit, sister, in our prayers and tears? Why mar the spring-time gladness of our years
"In vain pursuit of universal good? In fruitless care for earth's vast brotherhood? Glad would I grasp such work could I but see. Or near, or far, your hoped-for victory."
"Whether they hear," she answered, "or forbear, 'Tis ours with signal truths to light the skies; God's promises and warnings to declare;— [Pg 12]How can men follow if no leader rise?
"The Christ shall be the victor; O my friend, Why do we limit His almighty power Who sees from far beginning to the end? Whose day may be an æon or an hour?
"The sea is His; He made it; and His word Can speak its wildest tumult into calm; As He may will its deepest founts are stirred, Or surface-ripples breathe a praiseful psalm.
"As well His power the rise and fall doth sway Of human passion, tho He suffer long; The puny pride of man shall yet obey The mandate of the Only Wise and Strong.
"But God would have the children of His grace In this great reclamation have a share; And each in his appointed hour and place Must stand, or other brow his crown will wear."
She paused, and o'er them, as with magic spell, For a brief space a holy silence fell; Then while the sunset crimson of the sky Set ocean all a-blush, he made reply:
"Reason and candor justify your claim; The Infinite is infinite in all; The Power that touches into life that flame Holds earth and heaven subject to His call, And at His fiat peoples rise and fall.
"Your dauntless zeal doth shame my coward heart; Your word of faith my courage doth inspire; [Pg 13]I see 'tis only noble to have part In moral contest; not to fan the fire Of a false glory, which must ever feed On souls that perish, and on hearts that bleed.
"And this I gather from your earnest plea;— That souls which walk in light and see the way To heights of truth yet unattained, must be Fore-runners for their Lord, must work and pray For the incoming of the perfect day.
"Join we in this sweet service; cherish still The trust that gives you courage for the fight; Your 'peaceful war' on all that's base and ill, Your patient battle for the pure, the right. Let us press on and mount the hills of light."
The ocean murmur fell upon their ears Sweeter than bird-song or the voice of mirth, As beamed her answering smile, thro' grateful tears, While her lips whispered only "Peace on earth."
"Peace! peace!"—the evening zephyrs caught the strain, The wavelets sent the word across the sea; Exultant Nature trilled the glad refrain;— "Peace! peace! The Christ is come, and peace shall be!"
"He is risen; He is risen, Here His empty tomb you see; And He goeth as He told you To the hills of Galilee." Thus to loving, loyal women, In the centuries agone, Angel voices told the story Of the resurrection morn.
He is risen! He is risen! Years hand down the glad refrain; Let the ages on to ages Waft the tidings yet again. He who near the Bethlehem manger Lowly child of earth was born, King of kings reigns all triumphant Since the resurrection morn.
Christ is risen! Calvary's anguish All a lost world's ransom paid; Then, with tears, "the hope of Israel" [Pg 17]In the new-made tomb was laid.
Deep and dark the desolation Falling with that night forlorn; Radiant the dawn awakening With the resurrection morn.
He has risen! By this token We with Him shall rise again; Faith shall vanquish doubt and terror, Joy shall banish grief and pain. No more fear of sin's temptation, No more dread of hatred's scorn, O the glory purchased for us On the resurrection morn!
Christ is risen! Bow before Him, To His courts an offering bring; Suffering Lord and Lamb victorious, Crown Him Conquerer, Priest and King. Robe of light for robe of mocking, Diadem for crown of thorn, Wears He now, and in His likeness Rise we, satisfied, immortal, In the resurrection morn.
Elizabeth of Hungary, a widow at the age of twenty, was sought
in marriage by Frederick II., Emperor of Germany. She, having taken
a vow never to marry again, declined his offer, and devoted her life
to deeds of kindness and charity. She died at the age of twenty-four,
and was canonized as a saint by Gregory IX. At this ceremony Frederick
placed upon her head a golden crown, saying, "Since thou wouldst
not be crowned as my Empress, I crown thee to-day as an immortal
Queen in the kingdom of God."
When once I saw thee, fair, yet sad and lone,— Tho wealth and beauty waited at thy hand— I would have crowned thee, saintly one, mine own; Glad would have had thee share with me my throne, Bride of my heart, and Empress of my land!
But thou wert wedded to thy valiant dead, And to the service of a Christ-like love; So by thy hand the suffering poor were led, And from thy bounty were the hungry fed, Till came thy summons to the Court Above.
Now hast thou passed from tears and pain away, Thine ear hath caught the heavenly melodies;— So be it mine, with reverent touch, to-day, On thy fair head this diadem to lay, And crown thee Queen immortal for the skies!
Six-and-thirty little mortals Coming to be taught; And mine that most "delightful task To rear the tender thought." Merry, mischief-loving children, Thoughtless, glad and gay, Loving lessons—"just a little," Dearly loving play.
Six-and-thirty souls immortal, Coming to be fed; Needing "food convenient for them," As their daily bread. Bright and happy little children, Innocent and free, Coming here their life-long lessons Now to learn of me.
Listen to the toilsome routine, List, and answer them, For these things who is sufficient 'Mong the sons of men? Now they, at the well-known summons, Cease their busy hum; And, some with pleasure, some reluctant, To the school-room come.
Comes a cunning little urchin With defiant eye, "Making music" with his marbles As he passes by. But, alas! the pretty toys are [Pg 20]Taken from him soon, And the music-loving Willie Strikes another tune!
Comes a lisping little beauty, Scarce five summers old; Baby voice and blue eyes pleading, "Please, misth, I'm stho cold!" Little one, the world is chilly, All too cold for thee; From its storms "Our Father" shield thee, And thy refuge be.
While I turn to caution Johnny Not to make such noise; Mary parses: "Earth's an adverb, In the passive voice." Well, indeed, it must be passive, Else it is not clear How such open language-murder, Goes unpunished here.
"Second Reader Class" reciting— "Lesson verse or prose?" None in all the class is certain; Each one thinks he knows. "Well," is queried then, "the difference Who can now define?" Answers Rob: "In verse they never Finish out the line!"
Boy, thy thought doth strangely thrill me, And as hours roll on, Hears my heart a solemn query: Is my day's work done? Do I make of this my life-task [Pg 21]Prose or idle rhyme? Do I in the sight of Heaven Finish out the line?
Oh, it is "too fine a knowledge" For our mortal sight, All these restless little creatures How to lead aright. He who prayeth while he worketh, Taking lessons still Of the Friend of little children, Learning all His will;
He alone can walk before them Worthily and well; He alone of life's strange language Can the meaning tell. May I then with heart as tender As a little child Lead my flock; and Father, keep them Pure and undefiled.
O blessed peace, that floweth like a river, Unstayed, unwearied, ever on and on; That hath its fount and spring in Christ the giver, And finds its ocean round the great white Throne.
O peace of God, that passeth understanding, Thou art the answer to my soul's long quest; Doubts, fears and sins, their serried hosts disbanding, I leave, launch on thy wave, and anchored, rest.
We were "seven in all," as the dear rustic maid To the poet so sweetly protested; And together we rambled and studied and played, Each imbibing a share of the sunshine and shade Wherewith our young life was invested.
And black eyes and blue eyes and brown eyes and gray Looked up to the face of our mother, As she led us in study in labor or play, Or told of "Our Father," and taught us to pray, And to cherish and love one another.
O, the rapture of being when life is a-tune With the song-life and beauty of morning; When the roseate dawn brightens into the noon, And the year hastens on to the splendor of June, In her fragrance and matchless adorning.
So our years flitted by and the youngest of all— Our dark-eyed and fun-loving brother— Was grown to be manly and lithesome and tall, And to couteous titles we answered the call, But were still "boys" and "girls" to each other.
O, the joy of endeavor, endurance and toil On thro' summer-time vigor and sweetness, Of triumph o'er that which would hinder or foil, Of the patience of hope after tears and turmoil, In the glory of autumn's completeness.
And the toil and the turmoil and tears have been ours— [Pg 23]From our ranks we have missed a loved brother We've encountered the thorns, but we've cherished the flowers; We've passed under the clouds on to sunnier hours, And we're still "boys" and "girls" to each other.
Sing, little sparrow, sing thy song. No peril neareth thee; Tho night be dark or day be long, Or clouds hang low, sing on, sing on, The dear God heareth thee.
Sing, little bird, whate'er befall— Trill out thine utmost need; Thou canst not soar, thou canst not fall But He will note who knoweth all, And He thy plaint will heed.
O little sparrow, far and high Thy soft notes God-ward go, And I with thee send up my cry, And both shall somewhere find reply, God careth for us so.
O mother, from thy home beyond the stars Hast thou not known the yearning of thy child For thy sweet love? Hast thou not heard her wild And piteous moaning for thy soft caress? Felt her heart's aching for the tenderness And the low patience of thy loving voice? Hast thou not seen her 'mid life's toils and jars, Pant as a bird behind its prison bars, For freedom to fly forth and be with thee? And canst thou not, sweet mother, send reply? Oh, thro' the depths of glory, thro' the sky, [Pg 25]Look for one moment down and say to me That all of loss on earth thou findest to be Great gain in heaven; that thou dost rejoice In all that was, and is, and shall betide At last to all; and that, in Him who died, Yet liveth evermore, I, too, shall see All discord blended into harmony; And that I, too, shall be, as thou art, satisfied.
Sister, we know That God is good, and He hath led us on By pleasant ways or painful to this day. Our lives went on together until now. In childhood and in youth the same fond home Hath been our earthly refuge; the same Rock Our shelter when earth had no rest or shade. At the same fancy we have often smiled, For the same sorrow wept; and oft our souls, In mingling aspirations, have sent up The same thanksgiving, the same burning prayer. Yes, we have lived together; we have known The visible blending of the outward life Made real by the holier unison Of loving spirit and aspiring mind. The spells of joy have bound us—and of hope, And tears—which are the diamond links of love— Have made the chain of our affection strong. It may be thus no more; yet—God is good— I hush the moaning of my riven heart, And smile that thou art happy; and give thanks That thy sweet life, rejoicing, hath put on Its richest diadem, its crown of love. May the kind Father grant that crown to be All worthy of the wearer; may His smile Lend brightness to it ever; and at last, When it is laid with earthly robes away, O may the infinite and eternal Love Rest like a glory on thy radiant brow.
Sixteen! and life to thee looks bright and fair;— A book unread, rose-tinted, golden edged, Encased in binding curious, costly, rare;— And all the years to be thou holdest pledged To give thee from its pages, day by day, Readings to cheer and bless the blithesome way.
And life is such a volume, only thou, From garnered storage of the heart and mind, Must fill unwritten pages, and allow Fair pictures—of pure thought, of self resigned, Of kindly deeds—each new-made page to grace;— [Pg 28]How blest if none thou, later, woulds't efface!
Sixteen! A May-day in the path of life, A marvelous puzzle on the finger twirled; Sixteen again; a stir of earnest strife And toil and tumult in a restless world; Repeated still,—a patient, steadfast hold On good attained,—ripe fruit, and grain of gold.
Sixteen once more! Serene in shade or sun, A brighter outlook now; existence grand! Content in hopes fulfilled, in victories won, Mingling with holier yearnings for that land, Whose o'er-flown radiance and whose surplus bliss Have been the glory and the joy of this.
At the tenth birthday all the world looks fair; The twentieth scarcely shades it with a care; At the third decade life soars grand and high; But with the fourth its heyday passes by.
The fifth comes on,—a century's half is told; The sixth,—our little girl is growing old. Another half-score milestone passed, and then We've reached the allotted three-score years and ten.
Years may be added; should they come to thee May Faith and Wisdom their companion be; Hope thy sure anchor; Peace with thee abide, And Love still be thy light at eventide.
Let us be still before Him. Yet once more That voice hath spoken to our startled souls Which fell in solemn cadence on the ear Of the hushed listeners on Mt. Olive's hill: "At eventide, at midnight, or at morn, The Son of Man shall come, shall surely come; Be ready, for ye may not know the hour." And if at eventide, when Nature folds Her toil-spent hands and sinks into repose; Or if at midnight hour of gloom Thou come, Or when the morning spreads her wings of light, Oh make us ready for the solemn call. Supply our need, of knowledge, wisdom, grace, Dear Lord, that with confiding joy our souls, Made pure of sin and strong in faith, may go To meet Thee at Thy coming. If the sound Of sweet home-voices follow to the brink [Pg 40]Of death's dark river, as they fainter grow, Then let us hear Thy still small voice of love; Say to us, "It is I—be not afraid." Or if the angel of the icy hand Should find us when no human friend is near And summon us away, then as we lose Our hold of earth and fall away from life, O wilt Thou grant our parting spirits may Go out in silence and be found with Thee.
When steamboats approach Mt. Vernon their bells begin to toll,
and continue the mournful service until the sacred spot is again left
in the distance.
Mt. Vernon's shade sweet vigil keeps Where on her breast her hero sleeps; O passing bells, soft be your tone, Toll gently for our Washington.
Toll, the great Warrior's strife is o'er; Toll, for the Statesman pleads no more; Toll—for a Man is fallen—on, Peal out your dirge for Washington.
Toll for a people's wounded heart, Toll for a bleeding Nation's smart, Toll for a World!—toll sadly on— The world hath lost a Washington.
Ring out your wailing on the air, And let it be a voice of prayer; He whom we greatly need is gone;— God give another Washington.
1863
Thus while she listened to the mournful knell That woke sad echoes on Potomac's shore; Saw how from Sumter's height her banner fell, And heard, not distant far, loud battle's roar;— [Pg 42]
Thus, while she heard the impatient bondman's moan, Knew her own power defied, her trust betrayed; While Treason rose to hurl her from her throne— The Spirit of the Union mused and prayed.
II.—THE EMANCIPATOR
God gave another; while we stood Aghast before the coming flood Of war, and its attending woes, The one for whom she prayed arose.
Blinded and deaf, we knew him not; Yet saw him wipe out slavery's blot; Heard him proclaim his people free, From lake to gulf, from sea to sea.
Saw this and heard, but deaf and blind, We failed to recognize the Mind, Which, going on from strength to strength, From grace to grace, had grown at length,
Thro the stern lessons of the hour, Of danger, censure, praise and power, To be the Man among us, one, Whom now we hail, since he is gone, Lincoln, our more than Washington.
Looking in thine eyes of azure, Looking on thy hair of gold, Once I wished, Evangelina, That there were no growing old.
For I thought of how thy sweet eyes Would grow dim with tears and care; How the years would turn to silver All thy wealth of golden hair.
How the lines of life would gather O'er the face so placid now; Traces of its toil and struggle Touching lip and cheek and brow.
This I thought, and wished the shadows [Pg 44]Might not lengthen o'er thy way; Wished there were no time but spring-time, Were no evening of the day.
Now I fear, Evangelina, That my wish was half a prayer, That the listening Father heard me, That thou liest, an answer, there.
For thou liest in thy beauty,— Eyes of blue and hair of gold, Lip and cheek and brow of marble, Folded fingers, still and cold;— O my angel, God hath called thee Where there is no growing old.
The time of the singing of birds is come; 'Tis the happiest time of the year: They are saying, "Let's build us our summer home, For the frost-king no longer we fear."
The time of the singing of birds is come, And the time of their building, too; With a feather, a straw and a stray bit of gum They will shew what bird-builders can do.
The time of the singing of birds is come: I was eaves-dropping under the trees; And as I translated the twitter and hum, I thought the words sounded like these:
"Twirr-a-whirr, twirr-a-whirr, [Pg 45]The young leaves are astir; We will make us a nest snug and warm On this apple-tree bough— We are at it e'en now— All secure from intruders and storm.
"'Tis for home, 'tis for love, 'Tis for heaven above, And our roof is the clear azure sky; The foundations we lay In this rough straw and clay, But we'll line it with moss by and by."
The time of the singing of birds is here, And if under the apple-tree bough Orlando and May would a domicile rear, Let them hear what the birds tell them now:
"Build for home, build for love, Build for heaven above, Build with music and cheer like the birds; And if palace or cot, Built of marble or what, Line your nest with the moss of kind words,"
The incident here narrated occurred some years ago at the Media
Training School for Feeble-Minded Children, then in care of Dr. I.
N. Kerlin.
A feeble, idiot boy, he stood Where Nature in her beauty grew, And over field and flowering wood [Pg 46]Her summer mantle lightly threw.
The scene had met his eye before; The pleasant path he oft had trod; And one who sought in simple lore To teach him things of heaven and God
Had often wandered with him there, And pointed out each lovely spot,— The sunlit cloud—the floweret fair— But still he comprehended not.
For all his soul was void and still, And darkness held his mind in thrall; He recognized no Sovereign Will, Nor saw the hand of God in all.
In Nature's presence now alone He stood, and filled with silent awe, Beheld, before the coming sun, The curtained Night in haste withdraw.
And gazing there with vacant eye, All motionless and mute he waits, When lo! the chariot of the sky Rolls through the morning's crimson gates.
The orient beams with beauteous light— Hath not his soul its radiance caught? His being grasps a new delight; A deep, mysterious change is wrought.
A light is kindled in his breast; A temple-veil at length is riven; And in that hour of strange unrest [Pg 47]A thought is born—of God in heaven.
In haste he seeks his tutor's side, For he who "bore in grief a part" Will, in this happy hour of pride, Responsive hail his joy of heart.
The glowing cheek, the flashing eye, The parted lips—not voiceless now— And, caught from that resplendent sky, The marvelous light upon his brow,—
While these, ere yet he speaks, attest The rapture which that thought has given; He lifts his finger toward the east And softly whispers, "God, in Heaven!"
O blessed hour! and happy he To whom, thro patient love 'twas given To set a fettered spirit free, And wake a hope of God in Heaven
A Soul was stirred as one thro' blinding tears Rehearsed a tale of want and cruel wrong; Keen indignation banished doubts and fears; The purpose of imperial youth grew strong.
A Voice was heard: "Alas! that on the side Of sin and mad oppression there is power, But we will change all this, if God so aid":— And Maine's new freedom dated from that hour.
A Life was given; fraught with noble deeds;— [Pg 48]Aflame with words of truth, and tireless zeal, And boldness for the right that gave no heed To threatening hate, or sycophant's appeal.
But men decried the fervor of that Soul, And would have hushed the Voice that pleaded still Against the oppressors' power, and such control As brought them gain, all others loss and ill.
And men denounced that Life; and where it came Ofttimes their scoffings tainted the sweet air, As with malicious scorn they hailed a name That calumny itself left clean and fair.
And now that Soul hath entered into rest; That Voice is silent, and that peerless Life Hath crossed the threshold where the good and blest Enter, and cease from sorrow, toil and strife.
O Life and Voice and Soul! O princely one! Our loyal hearts send greeting to thee now; Thy name has lighted near a century gone,— 'Twill brighten ages yet to come, Neal Dow.
From the charm of idle pleasure, From Ambition's siren song, From the rush for earthly treasure Of the busy, careless throng; In the dawn of life's fair morning [Pg 49]He had heard the Master's call; "Yea, I come," his heart made answer, "Paradise will pay for all."
On through years of toil and struggle Walked he, faithful to his word; Blameless life and kind entreaty Leading many to the Lord. Meeting dangers, bearing burdens Well might stoutest heart appal; But to every doubt replying, "Paradise will pay for all."
Now at eve, toil-spent and weary, Pierced with pain the pilgrim lay; Watching still with faith triumphant For the dawn of brighter day. Then upon his ear there falleth Once again the Master's call: "Come up higher." "Yea," he answers, "Paradise will pay for all."
Father in Heaven, I thank Thee for this hour, This blessed hour wherein my contrite soul Humbled and happy bows itself to Thee, Pleading that all its error and its sin May be forgiven—even as I forgive.
The cruel wrong swept o'er me like a flood; And my hurt soul in fierce defiance rose, And all forgetful that itself could sin Heaped heavy hatred on the offender's head. There came a calmer hour in which I saw [Pg 50]The strong temptation that had moved him thus To barter all his better life away— Love, honor, principle—to gain the world. And seeing this I learned to pity him. For well I knew the bauble he had won Would only mock him with its faithless glare; And well I knew the golden fruit he grasped Would be but dust and ashes in his hand; And knowing this I learned to pity him. And as my pity grew it turned to prayer— That when the glitter of the gold was gone, And the sweet fruit was bitter to his taste; When the sad memory of the slighted past Came, and made deeper still the present gloom, The darkness might be lifted, and the Soul, Self-robbed and famishing, might find its way To the green pastures and the springs of life, That in the heart whence love and joy had fled, Whence hope was exiled, there might yet be peace. But suddenly I queried in my heart What power had moved me that I should have prayed For him I counted as my life-long foe. Greatly I marveled what it meant that thus I had called down such blessing upon him— The kindliest boon of heaven, the peace of God. Deep in my soul there came an answering voice: "O Child, it is but this—thou hast forgiven!"
Then thanks, O Father, for this plessed hour, Wherein my soul, by Thine own Spirit taught, Prays with no mockery of words Thy prayer: "Forgive my trespasses, as I forgive."
Horror of combat, and tumult and dread; Thunder of cannon and bursting of bomb; Moans of the wounded (who envy the dead) Lost in the clamor of trumpet and drum. O where is the song of the angels? O when shall we hear it again? "Peace on earth," rang the chorus seraphic, "And good will evermore among men."
Here is fierce anger and hatred and death, Pitiless slaughter of pitiless foe; Blessings and curses poured forth in a breath; Brave self-forgetting, and measureless woe. But where is the song of the angels? O when shall we hear it again? "Peace on earth," rang the chorus seraphic, "And good will evermore among men."
Blue waves of ocean are reddened with gore, Victor and victim earth holds to her breast; Hearts that will thrill with ambition no more; Heads that so lately fond mothers caressed. O where is the song of the angels? O when shall we hear it again? "Peace on earth," rang the chorus seraphic, "And good will evermore among men."
Victory, purchased at infinite cost, Honors and titles so fearfully won, Fame, at the price of lives blighted and lost, Graves, all unnoted, unnumbered, unknown. [Pg 52]O where is the song of the angels? Dear Christ, let us hear it again; "Peace on earth," send the chorus seraphic, "Peace on earth, and good will among men."
I have dreamed a sweet dream; I have seen a fair vision; I have looked the wide universe o'er; And earth's nations arise in a glory elysian— They do not learn war any more.
There are music and mirth; there are childhood's sweet voices, Winsome age lends its placid charm there; There are laughter and glee as when home-life rejoices Unshadowed by sorrow or care.
In all noble achievement, all worthy endeavor, Men in kindly ambition contend; But the valiant of heart may yet know he hath ever In his sturdiest foeman a friend.
Nevermore the proud boast or the haughty defiance;— Without end shall His kingdom increase; 'Tis the day of all nations in Holy Alliance, 'Tis the reign of truth, justice, and peace.
Nevermore shall a nation lift sword against nation, [Pg 53]The dominion of Hatred is o'er; 'Tis the triumph of Love, 'tis the dawn of Christ's kingdom, They shall not learn war any more.
Put up thy sword, O Nation, grand and strong! Call in thy fleet-winged missiles from the sea; Art thou not great enough to suffer wrong, Land of the brave, the freest of the free?
Put up thy sword. 'Tis nobler to endure Than to avenge thee at another's cost; And while thy claim and purpose are made sure, Behold that other's life and honor lost.
Put up thy sword. It hath not hushed the cry That called it all too rashly from its sheath; Still o'er the fated isle her children lie And find surcease from anguish but in death.
Put up thy sword, O Country, strong and free, Let strife and avarice and oppression cease; So shall the world thy Star of Empire see Resplendent o'er the heaven-touched hills of Peace.
(WRITTEN ON THE DEFEAT OF THE PROHIBITION AMENDMENT
IN PENNSYLVANIA.)
They fought with lances in that ancient day, With sword and spear and arrow deftly sped. At eventide the hosts of Israel lay Vanquished and spoiled, the dying with the dead; And the Ark of God was taken.
They fought with ballots in our nearer day; From morn to eve the light-winged missiles flew; Again Philistia's triumph brought dismay, And Wrong, victorious, struggling Virtue slew, And the Ark of God was taken.
O ye to whom the sacred trust was given To guard the altar and the ark of God, Have ye been recreant to the charge of heaven, That thus we fall before the avenging rod, And the Ark of God is taken?
Rouse from your shameful slumbers. Put away Your strange gods from among you. Turn again; That in the drawing of some nobler day The hosts of sin may be rebuked of men, And the Ark of God re-taken.
In the years, years ago, when the true-hearted women, Started forth on their errand of prayer, Many said, "'Tis the cry of the Home for protection"; Many said, "'Tis delusion and snare." Some said, softly, "God bless you"; some murmured, "Mistaken"; Some the swift shafts of calumny hurled; But they went bravely forward, a praying procession, Marching out, out, out in the world.
Chorus
Hark! hark! a trembling chorus: No, no, no, no; We cannot have Rum ruling o'er us; No, no, no, no; And now to save our young men the White-Ribbon Army Marches on, on, on round the world.
At the head of the host came the silver-haired mothers, Arm in arm with the daughters so fair; While the wives for their husbands, the girls for their brothers, Raise their voices to heaven in prayer. [Pg 56]As their pleadings prevail, and "the worst foe" surrenders, The white banner of peace is unfurled; And we now may behold them, a joyful procession, Marching on, on, on round the world.
Chorus
Hark! hark! a swelling chorus: No, no, no, no; We cannot have Rum ruling o'er us; No, no, no, no; And oh to save our country the White-Ribbon Army Marches on, on, on round the world.
They have entered the gates of the Empire Celestial, They have compassed the Isles of the Sea, And they carry glad tidings of good to all people, From the land of the brave and the free. On the peeress of England, on Afric's dark daughter, Is the white-ribbon emblem now twirled; And the army moves onward, a dauntless procession, Marching on, on, on round the world.
Chorus
Hark! hark! a ringing chorus: No, no, no, no; We cannot have Rum ruling o'er us; No, no, no, no; And lo! to save all nations the White-Ribbon Army Marches on, on, on round the world.
Dawn of glory! radiant morn! To-day the Christ, our King, is born. Our King, our Saviour, Son of Man, And Son of God—all-wondrous plan! A Virgin's joy; a world's salvation; Humblest type of exaltation! Highest form of life despised; Visage marred, and beauty prized. By angels heralded on high; By men abhorred and doomed to die. Entombed secure 'neath seal and stone; Uprisen to the Eternal Throne! Hail, blessed light! Hail glorious morn! The Wonderful, the Christ is born!
The Early Dawn looked out upon the world And cried, "How beautiful a world to be!" The Dawn herself was beautiful to see; Her hair of glowing golden light uncurled About a face of clear serenity, Whereon rose-tinted smiles played daintily and free. "Aye, fair the earth," she said, "most fair—and yet How can I for one briefest space forget How dark a stain its loveliness doth mar; A stain, a scourge, the cruel curse of war! Even now I dimly see and faintly hear The clang of drum, the clash of sword and spear." And pale with pity, swift she shrank away, [Pg 58]Leaving the world and war to broader day.
The Sun at noon looked down upon the world; From depths of vast ethereal blue looked down, And mused, "You far, fair Earth, sure we must crown Queen of the Universe. Great flags unfurled O'er her bright waters witness high renown Won by her creature, Man; aye, bring for Earth a crown!
Yet stay—there riseth over Afric plains A cloud of battle-smoke; with crimson stains Her rivers run; her hills and meadows fair, Trampled by hostile hordes, lie waste and bare. And yonder, in the islands of the sea, A people struggle vainly to be free; And everywhere the banners of fair fame Trail in the dust of hatred, greed and shame. No crown for Earth; I mourn so bright a star Lost in the chaos of consuming war." And veiled in robe of woe, he went his way, Borne by the passing hours to close of day.
The twilight lingered, and the Evening Star Looked back upon the world and whispered low: "These who have spoken surely could not know:— Earth is a great, pure pearl, and seems from far Set with fair homes, like gems; in amber glow, Or emerald green, or gold or roseate snow. But hush! In palace hall a bitter cry; A mangled hero is borne in to die; And in yon lowly cot, a widow's moan;— A mother's heart-break o'er her only son. Alas! 'tis true. Earth's battle-fields destroy [Pg 59]Her noblest manhood; rob her homes of joy." And sad the Star of Evening sank from sight, While Earth lay shrouded in the gloom of night.
But from afar—beyond the Morning's birth, Beyond the depths whence Sun looked down on earth, Beyond the dreamy distance of the Star,— A voice proclaimed: "They shall no more learn war."
My 'Infant Class' one summer morn, Was gathered in the maple shade Near the church door, and there we talked [Pg 60]Of the fair world our Lord had made—
The swaying trees upon the hill, The waving grain, the shadowy grove— Till every little heart seemed filled With the sweet sense of Jesus' love.
A query came: Dear little ones, As days go by what shall we do— Since Jesus has so loved us all— To show him that we love him too?
"I'll mind mama," said wilful Tim; And Ben, "I'll carry in the wood;" Said Mary, "I will lessons learn;" While Dimple lisped, "I will be dood."
And how will Helen show her love? She, with a wistful glance at Rose— A sweet, but pale and timid child— Replied, "By giving up, I 'spose."
Dear girl! To fragile sister Rose She oft must yield her will and way; But now this duty shall disclose Her love for Jesus, day by day.
Oh oft, were we but wise, we'd find Our triumph in another's gain; On glowing altar—coals of love— Would joy to see self-idols slain.
In simplest ways the soul may drink With Christ the sacrificial cup, And many a victory is won, And nobly won, by 'giving up.'
Thy will, Thy way, not mine, O blessed Lord; My will would choose the smooth and pleasant way, And that might lead from duty's path astray; Nay, I would walk "according to Thy word," Choosing Thy way, not mine.
Thy peace, my gracious Saviour, would I choose, My peace might lead me man, not God, to please, Might lure my soul to take its selfish ease, And, gaining all the world, itself to lose, Give me Thy peace, not mine.
Thy will, Thy way, Thy peace, Thou knowest best; Let me but see the guiding of Thine eye, Let me but know Thy voice, and swift reply My soul shall make to every know behest, Doing Thy will, not mine.
Ah me! what life since hers in age agone Hath not known Hagar's hour in desert wild; Outcast from sheltering home, adrift, alone, Bereft of love's sweet ministry, her child— Her heart's one treasure—late so fond and fair, Become a burden more than she could bear; All earth and sky a strange enfolding scroll Writ o'er with nameless pain and sense of need [Pg 62]To which nor pitying eye nor ear gave heed Till came the thought of God. Even so the soul, Consumed with vain regret and doubt and dread— As she upon the barren sand her boy— Lays all it once had counted hope and joy Upon the desolate waste itself had spread; Self-abnegating, tho with bitter cry— "I yield thee, but I cannot see thee die." But, passing thence, the agonizing plea Faith transforms into tuneful harmony, Glad to remember "Thou, God, seest me."
Written for a literary club, to which the author had formerly belonged,
in Waterford, Va.
Start not, good friends; there was a time When I, whom fate, in kindly mood, Made brief sojourner in your clime, Was glad partaker of the good That from your "Circle" emanated; And as the seven days went 'round The appointed "Fourth-day evening" found Me with its members congregated. And also now I recognize The smiling lips and beaming eyes Of some, who, cordial, kind and free, Had smiles and loving words for me. Who, when I entered rose to greet, And welcome gave, sincere and sweet. But that was years ago, and now There may be wrinkles on my brow; There may have fled from form and face [Pg 63]The transient charms of youth and grace, And time and sadness may have thrown A shadow o'er the "chestnut brown" Of locks that once—well, let that pass;— These are but sorrowful reflections, And, like those of my looking-glass, Do but discover imperfections; So let us leave this train of thought And start in happier directions. But first I think it may be due Alike unto myself and you, Lest some should think I may have brought My ghostly presence here unsought, To make this note of explanation:— That not for pride, or praise, or gloom, Or curious motive am I come; Nor yet for want of occupation; Far from intruding thus, I would Have it distinctly understood I'm here by "special invitation."
Here! and my phantom pulses quicken! Pale memories gather round me fast, And now they grow, and gleam, and thicken, And fan me with their wings of light, And bear me to a realm more bright Than fairy land or elfin home, Or that sweet world whence dreams do come The heaven of a happy Past!
* * * * *
Familiar faces on me smile, Remembered voices greet my ear, And social converse gives the while, [Pg 64]The old-time wisdom and good cheer. But while we're all engaged in chat, Of work, of weather, and all that, And voices rise and smiles grow broader, Presiding dignity comes forth With modest but "amazing" worth And calls the whole concern to order. Then "minutes" penned by snow-white hand, Approved without dissension stand; And hushed is all the talk and noise The while some soft or manly voice From gifted author doth unfold Before us treasures new and old. We grant them rare, yet lay them by Our intellectual strength to try In essay, speech, or declamation; We reverence the might of mind, But here our home-spun thoughts still find A kindlier appreciation. With hushed breath and eyes that glisten, To some fine argument we listen, From one with head so full of lore That to prevent its brimming o'er He must impart his information. The which he does "by book and rule," Achieving in the village school A never-ceasing reformation. With rapt attention now we hear A discourse upon Sound and Ear, Wherein is beautifully blended, The Science and the History, The Knowledge and the Mystery So fair, when fairly comprehended. Then some poetic brain is fired, Some secret spring unlocked, for A brother brings, with love inspired, [Pg 65]Kind thoughts in glowing words attired, And prays at once with heart and pen— And all the people say Amen— "God bless the Country Doctor."
And "lesser lights" send out a gleam Of intellectual glory; And many a grave or playful theme, Or fact profound, or doubtful dream, Or song, or allegory Beguiles the gloom of winter night, And makes the slow hours swift and light; To social pleasure adds a charm, Makes young hearts wise and old hearts warm, And Life a pleasant story.
* * * * *
O friends, I live it o'er again! I cross the gulf 'twixt Now and Then, And live that happy time again; Its varied joy and brightness, all— The crowded room, the lighted hall, The merry laugh, the friendly nod— And bless the Fate that brought—but no, Let us not read these chances so— Fate is the Sovereign will of God; He marks the paths by mortals trod; And He appoints our joy and woe. Then bless we God, whose gracious hand Hath led us gently on our way; By whose good will to-day we stand Rejoicing that we live to-day. By whose sweet mercy yet we trust That all of us which is not dust, From time and toils of earth shall rise To nobler life beyond the skies.
Bless us now, our Heavenly Father, As we gather once again And unite our hearts and voices In a grateful, glad refrain; Praises for a Father's bounty, Praises for a Saviour's reign.
Guide us by thy Holy Spirit, Lead us in thy perfect way; Show us as we strive to serve Thee, What to do and what to say; Teach us how to work and suffer, How to watch and how to pray.
Gracious Lord, we come with pleading [Pg 67]For our tempted brother's sin; At the open door of mercy Praying Thou wilt take him in. Sin-sick, heart-sore and repentant, Let him now new life begin.
And we bring our sister, moaning Over blighted hope and home; Robbed of all life's best possessions By the ruthless spoiler—Rum, To her rest in Thy compassion, Bid the heavy-laden "Come."
And we pray, O God of Nations, That thine outstretched arm of might, May rebuke this prowling evil, May drive back the powers of night, And preserve us Home and Country Overruled by Love and Right.
Kind friends, we thank you, one and all, For giving such attention, While we've arraigned Old Alcohol, And of his faults made mention. And if you'd like to see him now Put "in a pretty pickle," Just lend a hand and help us on By giving us a nickel.
He stalks the earth from east to west, [Pg 68]A deal of mischief doing; But we are "on the war-path" now, Old Alcohol pursuing. So if you'd like to see him caught And punished for his crime, sir, Just lend a hand and help us on By tossing us a dime, sir.
He robs our homes of peace and joy; He fills the land with sighing; Sets snares and pitfalls for our feet, (He'd better be a-dying.) So if you think he should be slain, As we believe he'd or'ter, Just lend a hand and help us on By handing out a quarter.
He boasts himself a King—by law And license well protected; But now "the children are a-field" We'll have him soon ejected. So if you'd see us tackle him, And take him by the collar, Just lend a hand and help us on By dropping in a dollar.
"Here shall the Boundary Line be laid." "Not so, but here," the other said. Clamor of contest ran fierce and high,— Defiant challenge and proud reply.
For heights of the Andes rose between [Pg 69]The Chilean States and the Argentine; And the mooted question, day by day, Was "What doth limit my neighbor's sway?"
The sunlight rose and the shadows fell On either slope, but none could tell Just where the morning's magic wand Touched the Argentine or Chile land.
Fair in their verdure, pure in their snow, So near to heaven their summits go— Why should they ever by man be trod? 'Twould seem they should only belong to God.
But the strife went on with passing years, Fed by resentment and pride and fears; Nor priest nor people could yet define The rightful range of the Boundary Line.
The strife went on with its loss and shame, As generations went and came, And each in its turn the task essayed To solve the problem so long delayed.
* * * * *
Then kinder, kinglier thought prevailed, Where threat of sword and gun had failed; And love-illumined reason wrought The adjustment long so vainly sought.
"For how can a trifle of earth and air With the worth of human lives compare? And what can it matter if thine or mine [Pg 70]Be the narrow side on the Boundary Line?
"And why should greed and grim distrust Despoil us of our faith and trust? Enough, enough, let us pledge our word To settle by judgment, not by sword.
"Let us heed the counsel our good priests bring, And raise the standard of Christ our King, And the here or there of the Boundary Line Let God and the British king define."
Then the mother-heart of the nation stirred, As the fair De Costa's plea was heard: "Fathers and brothers! warriors, men! Shall we give our bravest to death and pain?
"Shall we hush our hearts as we see them go— God pity!—to strive with a brother foe? Long we have waited, have suffered and prayed For a joy still denied us, a hope still delayed.
"Enough; let the sun in highest heaven Pencil the line for which you have striven; Let a princely people on either side In friendship and fair accord abide;
"Be the strife of the past to the wild winds swept; The faith of the future unswervingly kept; And let 'The Christ of the Andes' rest In token of peace on the mountain's crest."
Grandly the people made reply; The pledge was taken, the arms laid by, And glad thanksgiving and festal song [Pg 71]Witnessed the joy of the gathered throng.
Joy! for the strife of the past was o'er; Joy! for the promise of war no more; Joy in the gladness of land and home, Joy for the world-wide peace to come.
On snow-tipped height of the Andean range They planted the statue fair and strange; And there, to the query of the sky, Its bronze and granite make reply:
"I witness the failure of the sword, The victory of the Love-sent word; To dust may crumble rock and hill, This pledge of nations abideth still."
* * * * *
So now the Boundary Line is laid; Christ in the heart hath the conflict stayed; And now doth "the Christ of the Andes" rest In token of peace on the mountain's crest.
A. G. M., lingering on the threshold of eternity, looked lovingly
back to tell of the glory revealed to her purified vision. "Angels are
waiting," she whispered, "and all is beautiful, beautiful." Then, as
her spirit winged its happy way, a sweet murmur again was heard,
and the words were: "Soaring upward, upward into Heaven."
They call thee dead. They say that thou art gone, Forevermore from earth. It is not so; I know thy gentle spirit will return And linger fondly round the loved below.
They call thee dead. And now thou art not ours; "God touched thee," for thy work on earth was done. Thy presence was to us like summer flowers; And they are faded now; and thou art gone.
I had not thought, fair girl, that thou couldst die; I knew thee gentle, innocent and gay; And dreamed not that the brightness of thine eye, Was destined thus so soon to fade away.
'Tis well: "He giveth His beloved sleep,"— O Sleeper, thou so early loved and blest! Say, were it wrong, if we who linger weep, And long to sleep, like thee, and be at rest?
Ay, we who linger should not idlers be; Day hath appointed work from morn till even; And while we wait 'tis sweet to think of thee As "soaring upward, upward into heaven!"
Do you wonder at my smiling? Do you wonder that I faint not 'neath the burden of my load? O, the gloom and toil and duty Change to light and praise and beauty While I'm looking toward the end of the road.
Though the way is long and dreary, And I languish for a happier, a more serene abode, As the light of earth grows dimmer, Looking up, I see the glimmer Of its glory at the end of the road.
Though the talent seemeth meager, And my Sovereign Lord doth gather, ever, where He hath not strowed, Yet I would not therefore spurn it, But "with usury" return it, At His coming at the end of the road.
Though I now go forth with weeping, If I bear the precious seed which the Master would have sowed, I shall come again with singing, Sheaves of plenty with me bringing To His harvest at the end of the road.
Peace shall follow tribulation: This the boon Divine Compassion upon mortal hath bestowed; Heavy now the cross I'm bearing; Bright the crown I'll soon be wearing In the Temple at the end of the road.
Transcriber's Note
Spelling oddities have been retained from the original book.
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