Poems of the Heart and Home Part 9

Mary! thy feet have pa.s.sed The silent valley;--on thy placid brow Heaven's sunlight falls at last,-- Thou'rt with G.o.d's s.h.i.+ning ones--thyself an angel now!

Thank G.o.d! the dreary tomb Has lost its sting! The Saviour broke death's reign, Clothing with fadeless bloom Frail human dust! In Heaven, Mary, we'll meet again!

"I AM DOING NO GOOD!"

"I am doing no good!" said a little rill, As it rippled along at the foot of a hill, "I am doing no good with my babbling here, No one is listening,--no one is near!"

"'No good!--no good!'" said a violet blue, As it shook from its petals the sparkling dew, And opened its wondering, azure eyes To the soft, clear light of the morning skies.

"'No good?'"--said a willow tree, bending low To kiss the rivulet, "say not so!

Daily and hourly I draw from thee The grace and beauty that dwell with me!"

And the rustling reeds in the marge that stood Reproachfully murmured--"'no good!--no good!'"

"'No good,' indeed!"--cried a dainty bird, And she sprang from her nest as the sound she heard, And fluttered her wings o'er the sorrowing stream, While her bright plumes flashed in the morning beam.

"Peace, peace, my brook!"--and the young leaves stirred At the gus.h.i.+ng notes of the happy bird-- "Do you not nourish the dear beech tree That spreads its shelter for mine and me?

You give yon wild rose its beauteous hue,-- And yonder violet its tender blue,-- And yonder willow its foliage fair,-- And yonder lily its fragrance rare!

The sun is gracious and kind, we think, But to you, my brooklet, we come _to drink!_ His beams with glory and warmth are rife, But you afford us _the cup of life!_ Gentle rivulet, cease to pine!-- Sing, and be happy for me and mine!"

"And me!" said the lily, "and me!"--"and me!"

Said violet, and rose-bud, and willow tree; And rustling reeds, and the gray, old beech Tossing his arms high out of reach,-- Fluttering insect, and waving tree, Murmured and rustled "for me!"--"and me!"

Then the rivulet brightening, sped along, With a freer step and a gladder song, Through many a valley and meadow green Making her flowery foot-prints seen,-- Deepening ever and broadening out, Greeting the hills with a joyous shout,-- Greeting the rocks with a soft caress, And singing still in her joy's excess, Till her song swelled out to an anthem free, As she caught the flash of the distant Sea-- The glorious Sea that, with answering tone, Welcomed his guest from the hill-side lone.

Then the Stream shook hands with the kingly main, And, glancing back to her source again, Beheld each place where her steps had been Glowing in tenderest, loveliest green,-- Saw beauty and fruitfulness fresh and fair Wherever her gladdening footsteps were, And caught from the green hills far away The echo of many a woodland lay, And the perfume of many a wild flower borne On the scented wings of the dewy morn.

And then the rivulet understood That all along she'd been doing good;-- That a rich green belt on Earth's sunny breast Was left to tell of her mission blest;-- That Earth with lovelier flowers was rife For her calm footsteps and patient life;-- That giving much, she had gathered more, Winning an ever-increasing store;-- And, at length, unfettered, and strong, and free, A home she had found with the glorious Sea!

HAIL, RISEN LORD!

Hail, risen Lord, upon whose brow The crown of victory resteth now, Unfading as the sun!

Hail, vanquisher of every foe, Of Sin, dread source of all our woe, And Death--the last undone!

Hail, risen Lord,--the empty grave Proclaims aloud thy power to save,-- Thy high, victorious might!

Hail, Lord of life, and peace, and love, On thy exalted throne above, In uncreated light!

Hail, risen Lord,--we bend the knee, And lift the adoring eye to thee, And yield thee wors.h.i.+p meet!-- And, while the angelic hosts on high Shout their hosannas through the sky, We breathe them at thy feet

For here, 'mid darkness, sin, and death, Our loudest praise is but a breath,-- An infant's feeble sigh!

Yet, haply, to thy gracious ear Our weak hosannas are as dear, As those that swell on high!

Hail, risen Lord,--exalted King, Well may the highest heavens ring With rapture's sweetest lays!

Be ours to add our feeble sigh To the full chorus of the sky, In reverential praise!

LINES

ON THE DEATH OF A YOUNG MOTHER

A voice missed by the dear home-hearth-- A voice of music and gentle mirth-- A voice whose lingering sweetness long Will float through many a Sabbath song, And many a hallowed, evening hymn, Tenderly breathed in the twilight dim!

--But that missing voice, with a richer tone, Is heard in the anthems before the throne; And another voice and another lyre, Are added now to the angel-choir!

There's a missing face when the board is spread-- There's a vacant seat at the table's head,-- A watchful eye and a helpful hand That will come no more to that broken band.

--But she sits to-day at the board above, In the tender light of a holier love; And the kindling eye and the beaming face At the feast on high hold a n.o.bler place!

A form is missed in the hour of prayer, At the altar, now, there's an empty chair, Where one lonely pleader hath scarcely won Strength, e'en yet, for "_Thy will be done!_"

--But that missing form in its saintly dress Of Christ's unsullied righteousness, Bows with wors.h.i.+pful accents sweet, Where angels bow at the Saviour's feet

A step is missed by the cradle bed Where an infant nestles its sleeping head-- Smiling, perchance, in his baby rest, Deeming his pillow her gentle breast --But the feet that moved with a soundless tread In the calm still night by that cradle bed, Beyond the waters of death now stand Mid the fadeless flowers of the Heavenly land

O heart, sore pierced by the fatal dart-- O, wounded, suffering, bleeding heart-- More than all others doomed to miss The glance, the accent, the smile, the kiss,-- Nothing is lost that you miss to day-- Not even the beautiful, death cold clay But Jesus guards it with watchful eye, Soon to restore it no more to die, Clothed in the bloom of immortal life, The sinless mother, the sainted wife!

PATIENCE

I.

I saw how the patient Sun Hasted untiringly The self-same old race to run; Never aspiringly Seeking some other road Through the blue heaven Than the one path which G.o.d Long since had given;-- And I said;--"Patient Sun, Teach me my race to run, Even as thine is done, Steadfastly ever; Weakly, impatiently Wandering never!"

II.

I saw how the patient Earth Sat uncomplainingly, While, in his boisterous mirth, Winter disdainingly Mocked at her steadfast trust, That, from its icy chain, Spring her imprisoned dust Soon would release again;-- And I said;--"Patient Earth, Biding thy hour of dearth, Waiting the voice of mirth Soon to re-waken, Teach me like thee to trust, Steadfast, unshaken!"

III.

I saw how the patient Stream Hasted unceasingly, Mindless of shade or gleam, Onward increasingly,-- Widening, deepening Its rocky bed ever, That it might thus take in River by river;-- And I said,--"Patient Stream, Hasting through shade and gleam, Careless of noontide beam, Loitering never, So teach thou me to press Onward forever!"

IV.

I saw how the Holiest One Sat in the Heaven, Watching each earth-born son Sin-tossed and driven,-- Watching war's mad'ning strife-- Brother 'gainst brother, Reckless of love and life, Slaying each other;-- And I said;--"Patient One, On thy exalted throne, Never impatient grown With our dark sinning, Though all its depth thou'st known From the beginning--

V.