Follow still, since so thy fates
ordained!
Warner - World's Best Literature - v28 - Songs, Hymns, Lyrics
While life's dark maze I tread,
And griefs around me spread,
Be thou my guide;
XXVIII-1055
## p. 16866 (#566) ##########################################
16866
SONGS HYMNS AND LYRICS
Bid darkness turn to day,
Wipe sorrow's tears away,
Nor let me ever stray
From thee aside.
When ends life's transient dream,
When death's cold, sullen stream
Shall o'er me roll,-
Blest Savior, then in love
Fear and distrust remove;
O bear me safe above,
A ransomed soul.
RAY PALMER.
THE GATE OF HEAVEN
S"
HE stood outside the gate of heaven, and saw them entering in,
A world-long train of shining ones, all washed in blood from
sin.
The hero-martyr in the blaze uplifted his strong eye,
And trod firm the reconquered soil of his nativity!
And he who had despised his life, and laid it down in pain,
Now triumphed in its worthiness, and took it up again.
The holy one, who had met God in desert cave alone,
Feared not to stand with brethren around the Father's throne.
They who had done, in darkest night, the deeds of light and flame,
Circled about with them as with a glowing halo came.
And humble souls, who held themselves too dear for earth to buy,
Now passed on through the golden gate, to live eternally.
And when into the glory the last of all did go,
[woe. ”
« Thank God! there is a heaven,” she cried, “though mine is endless
The angel of the golden gate said, “Where then dost thou dwell?
And who art thou that enterest not ? " – "A soul escaped from hell. "
“Who knows to bless with prayer like thine, in hell can never be;
God's angel could not, if he would, bar up this door from thee. ”
She left her sin outside the gate, she meekly entered there,
Breathed free the blessed air of heaven, and knew her native air.
Author Unknown.
## p. 16867 (#567) ##########################################
SONGS HYMNS AND LYRICS
16867
THE ALMIGHTY LOVE
I
N DARKEST days and nights of storm,
Men knew thee but to fear thy form;
And in the reddest lightning saw
Thine arm avenge insulted law.
In brighter days, we read thy love
In flowers beneath, in stars above;
And in the track of every storm
Behold thy beauty's rainbow form;
And in the reddest lightning's path
We see no vestiges of wrath,
But always wisdom,– perfect love
From flowers beneath to stars above.
See, from on high sweet influence rains
On palace, cottage, mountains, plains;
No hour of wrath shall mortals fear,
For their Almighty Love is here.
THEODORE PARKER.
A SHELTER AGAINST STORM AND RAIN
O
NLY a shelter for my head I sought,
One stormy winter night;
To me the blessing of my life was brought,
Making the whole world bright.
How shall I thank thee for a gift so sweet,
O dearest Heavenly Friend ?
I sought a resting-place for weary feet,
And found my journey's end.
Only the latchet of a friendly door
My timid fingers tried :
A loving heart, with all its precious store,
To me was opened wide.
I asked for shelter from a passing shower-
My sun shall always shine!
I would have sat beside the hearth an hour -
And the whole heart was mine!
RÜCKERT (German).
Translation of James Freeman Clarke.
## p. 16868 (#568) ##########################################
16868
SONGS HYMNS AND LYRICS
HEAVEN, O LORD, I CANNOT LOSE
Nºw
ow summer finds her perfect prime!
Sweet blows the wind from western calms;
On every bower red roses climb;
The meadows sleep in mingled balms.
Nor stream nor bank, the wayside by,
But lilies float and daisies throng,
Nor space of blue and sunny sky
That is not cleft with soaring song.
O flowery morns, O tuneful eves,
Fly swift! my soul ye cannot fill!
Bring the ripe fruit, the garnered sheaves,
The drifting snows on plain and hill, -
Alike to me fall frosts and dews;
But heaven, O Lord, I cannot lose!
Warm hands to-day are clasped in mine;
Fond hearts my mirth or mourning share;
And over hope's horizon line
The future dawns serenely fair.
Yet still, though fervent vow denies,
I know the rapture will not stay:
Some wind of grief or doubt will rise,
And turn my rosy sky to gray;
I shall awake, in rainy morn,
To find my hearth left lone and drear.
Thus, half in sadness, half in scorn,
I let my life burn on as clear,
Though friends grow cold or fond love wooes;
But heaven, O Lord, I cannot lose!
In golden hours the angel Peace
Comes down and broods me with her wings:
I gain from sorrow sweet release;
I mate me with divinest things;
When shapes of guilt and gloom arise,
And far the radiant angel flees,
My song is lost in mournful sighs,
My wine of triumph left but lees.
In vain for me her pinions shine,
And pure, celestial days begin :
Earth's passion-flowers I still must twine,
Nor braid one beauteous lily in.
## p. 16869 (#569) ##########################################
SONGS HYMNS AND LYRICS
16869
Ah! is it good or ill I choose ?
But heaven, O Lord, I cannot lose!
EDNA DEAN PROCTOR.
COME YE DISCONSOLATE
С"
OME ye disconsolate, where'er ye languish;
Come, at God's altar fervently kneel;
Here bring your wounded hearts, here tell your an-
guish:
Earth has no sorrow that Heaven cannot heal.
Joy of the desolate, Light of the straying,
Hope, when all others die, fadeless and pure:
Here speaks the Comforter, in God's name saying,
“Earth has no sorrow that Heaven cannot cure. ”
Here see the Bread of Life; see waters flowing
Forth from the throne of God, pure from above:
Come to the feast of love; come, ever knowing
Earth has no sorrow but heaven can remove.
THOMAS MOORE.
THE HOPE OF THE HETERODOX
I
N THEE, O blessed God, I hope,
In thee, in thee, in thee!
Though banned by Presbyter and Pope,
My trust is still in thee.
Thou wilt not cast thy servant out
Because he chanced to see
With his own eyes, and dared to doubt
What praters preach of thee.
Oh no! no! no!
For ever and ever and aye
(Though Pope and Presbyter bray)
Thou wilt not cast away
An honest soul from thee.
I look around on earth and sky,
And thee, and ever thee,
With open heart and open eye
How can I fail to see?
## p. 16870 (#570) ##########################################
16870
SONGS HYMNS AND LYRICS
My ear drinks in from field and fell
Life's rival floods of glee:
Where finds the priest his private hell
When all is full of thee?
Oh no! no! no!
Though flocks of geese
Give Heaven's high ear no peace,
I still enjoy a lease
Of happy thoughts from thee.
My faith is strong; out of itself
It grows erect and free;
No Talmud on the Rabbi's shelf
Gives amulets to me.
Small Greek I know, nor Hebrew much,
But this I plainly see:
Two legs without a Bishop's crutch
God gave to thee and me.
Oh no! no! no!
The Church may loose and bind,
But mind, immortal mind,
As free as wave or wind,
Came forth, O God, from thee!
O pious quack! thy pills are good;
But mine as good may be,
And healthy men on healthy food
Live without you or me.
Good lady! let the doer do!
Thought is a busy bee,
Nor honey less what it doth brew,
Though very gall to thee.
Oh no! no! no!
Though Councils decree and declare,
Like a tree in open air
The soul its foliage fair
Spreads forth, O God, to thee!
JOHN STUART BLACKIE.
HYMN AND PRAYER
NFINITE Spirit! who art round us ever,
In whom we float, as motes in summer sky,
May neither life nor death the sweet bond sever,
Which joins us to our unseen Friend on high.
## p. 16871 (#571) ##########################################
SONGS HYMNS AND LYRICS
16871
Unseen, yet not unfelt,- if any thought
Has raised our mind from earth, or pure desire
A generous act or noble purpose brought,
It is thy breath, O Lord, which fans the fire.
To me, the meanest of thy creatures, kneeling,
Conscious of weakness, ignorance, sin, and shame,
Give such a force of holy thought and feeling
That I may live to glorify thy name;
That I may conquer base desire and passion,
That I may rise o'er selfish thought and will,
O'ercome the world's allurement, threat, and fashion,
Walk humbly, softly, leaning on thee still.
I am unworthy. — Yet for their dear sake
I ask, whose roots planted in me are found;
For precious vines are propped by rudest stake,
And heavenly roses fed in darkest ground.
Beneath my leaves, though early fallen and faded,
Young plants are warmed, they drink my branches' dew:
Let them not, Lord, by me be Upas-shaded;
Make me for their sake firm, and pure, and true.
For their sake too — the faithful, wise, and bold,
Whose generous love has been my pride and stay,
Those who have found in me some trace of gold —
For their sake purify my lead and clay.
And let not all the pains and toil be wasted,
Spent on my youth by saints now gone to rest,
Nor that deep sorrow my Redeemer tasted,
When on his soul the guilt of man was pressed.
Tender and sensitive, he braved the storm,
That we might fly a well-deserved fate,
Poured out his soul in supplication warm,
With eyes of love looked into eyes of hate.
Let all this goodness by my mind be seen,
Let all this mercy on my heart be sealed;
Lord, if thou wilt, thy power can make me clean!
O speak the word, — thy servant shall be healed!
JAMES FREEMAN CLARKE.
## p. 16872 (#572) ##########################################
16872
SONGS HYMNS AND LYRICS
FOR DIVINE STRENGTH
F
ATHER, in thy mysterious presence kneeling,
Fain would our souls feel all thy kindling love;
For we are weak, and need some deep revealing
Of trust and strength and calmness from above.
Lord, we have wandered forth through doubt and sorrow,
And thou hast made each step an onward one;
And we will ever trust each unknown morrow -
Thou wilt sustain us till its work is done.
In the heart's depths a peace serene and holy
Abides; and when pain seems to have her will,
Or we despair, oh! may that peace rise slowly,
Stronger than agony, and we be still.
Now, Father - now, in thy dear presence kneeling,
Our spirits yearn to feel thy kindling love;
Now make us strong we need thy deep revealing
Of trust and strength and calmness from above.
SAMUEL JOHNSON.
DE PROFUNDIS
0"
UT of the deep I call
To thee, O Lord, to thee;
Before thy throne of grace I fall, -
Be merciful to me.
Out of the deep I cry,
The woeful deep of sin,
Of evil done in days gone by,
Of evil now within.
Out of the deep of fear,
And dread of coming shame,
From morning watch till night is near
I hear my Savior's name.
Lord, there is mercy now,
As ever was, with thee;
Before thy throne of grace I bow,-
Be merciful to me.
H. W. BAKER.
## p. 16873 (#573) ##########################################
SONGS HYMNS AND LYRICS
16873
ROLL OUT, O SONG
Rº
OLL out, O song to God!
Move on, ye throngs of men!
Chances and changes come and go:
God changeth not! Amen.
And on the throngs of men,
On worrying care and strife,
Sinks down, as if from angel tongues,
The word of hope and life.
Down in the darksome ways
And worrying whirl of life
Sinks, like a strain of vesper-song,
The thought of his great strife
Who, of the Virgin born,
Made all our chains his own,
And broke them with his own right arm,
Nor left us more alone.
Amid the weak, one strong,
Amid the false, one true,
Amid all change, one changing not, -
One hope we ne'er shall rue.
In whose sight all is now,
In whose love all is best:
The things of this world pass away, —
Come, let us in him rest.
Amen.
FRANK SEWALL.
CHRISTMAS HYMN
WA
HILE shepherds watched their flocks by night
All seated on the ground,
The angel of the Lord came down,
And glory shone around.
“Fear not,” said he (for mighty dread
Had seized their troubled mind):
“Glad tidings of great joy I bring
To you and all mankind.
## p. 16874 (#574) ##########################################
16874
SONGS HYMNS AND LYRICS
“To you, in David's town, this day
Is born of David's line
The Savior who is Christ the Lord;
And this shall be the sign:
“The heavenly babe you there shall find
To human view displayed,
All meanly wrapt in swathing-bands,
And in a manger laid. ”
Thus spake the seraph; and forthwith
Appeared a shining throng
Of angels, praising God, and thus
Addressed their joyful song:
“All glory be to God on high,
And to the earth be peace;
Good-will henceforth from heaven to men
Bogin, and never cease! »
NAHUM TATE,
TRYSTE NOEL
THE
HE Ox he openeth wide the Doore
And from the Snowe he calls her inne,
And he hath seen her smile therefore,
Our Ladye without Sinne.
Now soone from Sleepe
A Starre shall leap,
And soone arrive both King and Hinde;
Amen, Amen :
But oh, the place co'd I but finde!
The Ox hath husht his voyce and bent
Trewe eyes of Pitty ore the Mow,
And on his lovelie Neck, forspent,
The Blessed lays her Browe.
Around her feet
Full Warme and Sweete
His bowerie Breath doth meeklie dwell;
Amen, Amen:
But sore am I with Vaine Travel!
The Ox is host in Juda's stall,
And Host of more than onelie one,
## p. 16875 (#575) ##########################################
SONGS HYMNS AND LYRICS
16875
For close she gathereth withal
Our Lorde her littel Sonne.
Glad Hinde and King
Their Gyfte may bring,
But wo'd to-night my Teares were there,
Amen, Amen:
Between her Bosom and His hayre!
LOUISE I MOGEN GUINEY.
SAN LORENZO GIUSTINIANI'S MOTHER
1
HAD not seen my son's dear face
(He chose the cloister by God's grace)
Since it had come to full flower-time.
I hardly guessed, at its perfect prime,
That folded flower of his dear face.
Mine eyes were veiled by mists of tears,
When on a day in many years
One of his Order came. I thrilled,
Facing, I thought, that face fulfilled.
I doubted, for my mists of tears.
His blessing be with me forever!
My hope and doubt were hard to sever;-
That altered face, those holy weeds.
I filled his wallet and kissed his beads,
And lost his echoing feet forever.
If to my son my alms were given
I know not, and I wait for Heaven.
He did not plead for child of mine,
But for another Child divine,
And unto Him it was surely given.
There is One alone who cannot change;
Dreams are we, shadows, visions strange:
And all I give is given to One.
I might mistake my dearest son,
But never the Son who cannot change.
ALICE MEYNELL.
## p. 16876 (#576) ##########################################
16876
SONGS HYMNS AND LYRICS
JESUS THE CARPENTER
"I
«SN'T this Joseph's son? ” — ay, it is he,
Joseph the carpenter- same trade as me;-
I thought as I'd find it — I knew it was here -
But my sight's getting queer.
I don't know right where as his shed must ha' stood,
But often, as I've been a-planing my wood,
I've took off my hat, just with thinking of he
At the same work as me.
He warn't that set up that he couldn't stoop down
And work in the country for folks in the town;
And I'll warrant he felt a bit pride, like I've done,
At a good job begun.
The parson he knows that I'll not make too free;
But on Sunday I feels as pleased as can be,
When I wears my clean smock, and sits in a pew,
And has taught a few.
I think of as how not the parson hissen,
As is teacher and father and shepherd o' men,-
Not he knows as much of the Lord in that shed,
Where he earned his own bread.
And when I goes home to my missus, says she,
“Are ye wanting your key ? ”
For she knows my queer ways, and my love for the shed
(We've been forty years wed).
So I comes right away by mysen, with the book,
And I turns the old pages and has a good look
For the text as I've found, as tells me as he
Were the same trade as me.
Why don't I mark it? Ah, many say so;
But I think I'd as lief, with your leaves, let it go:
It do seem that nice when I fall on it sudden-
Unexpected, you know!
CATHERINE C. LIDDELL (C. C. FRASER-TYTLER).
## p. 16877 (#577) ##########################################
SONGS HYMNS AND LYRICS
16877
THE GUEST
YET
Et if his Majesty, our sovereign lord,
Should of his own accord
Friendly himself invite,
And say, “I'll be your guest to-morrow night,”
How should we stir ourselves, call and command
All hands to work! Let no man idle stand.
Set me fine Spanish tables in the hall;
See they be fitted all:
Let there be room to eat,
And order taken that there want no meat.
See every sconce and candlestick made bright,
That without tapers they may give a light.
« Look to the presence: are the carpets spread,
The dais o'er the head,
The cushions in the chairs,
And all the candles lighted on the stairs ?
Perfume the chambers; and in any case,
Let each man give attendance in his place. ”
Thus if the king were coming would we do:
And 'twere good reason too;
For 'tis a duteous thing
To show all honor to an earthly king,
And after all our travail and our cost,
So he be pleased, to think no labor lost.
But at the coming of the King of Heaven
All's set at six and seven:
We wallow in our sin;
Christ cannot find a chamber in the inn.
We entertain him always like a stranger,
And as at first still lodge him at the manger.
From Christ Church MS. To it music was written by Thomas Ford.
CHARACTER OF A HAPPY LIFE
H®
ow happy is he born and taught
That serveth not another's will;
Whose armor is his honest thought,
And simple truth his utmost skill!
Whose passions not his masters are,
Whose soul is still prepared for death,
## p. 16878 (#578) ##########################################
16878
SONGS HYMNS AND LYRICS
Untied unto the world by care
Of public fame or private breath;
Who envies none that chance doth raise,
Nor vice; hath ever understood
How deepest wounds are given by praise;
Nor rules of State, but rules of good :
Who hath his life from rumors freed,
Whose conscience is his strong retreat;
Whose state can neither flatterers feed,
Nor ruin make oppressors great;
Who God doth late and early pray
More of his grace than gifts to lend;
And entertains, the harmless day
With a religious book or friend;-
This man is freed from servile bands
Of hope to rise, or fear to fall;
Lord of himself, though not of lands;
And having nothing, yet hath all.
SIR HENRY WOTTON.
DEATH THE LEVELER
T"
HE glories of our blood and state
re shadows, not substantial things;
There is no armor against fate:
Death lays his icy hand on kings:
Sceptre and crown
Must tumble down,
And in the dust be equal made
With the poor crooked scythe and spade.
Some men with swords may reap the field,
And plant fresh laurels where they kill:
But their strong nerves at last must yield;
They tame but one another still:
Early or late
They stoop to fate,
And must give up their murmuring breath
When they, pale captives, creep to death.
The garlands wither on your brow.
Then boast no more your mighty deeds:
## p. 16879 (#579) ##########################################
SONGS HYMNS AND LYRICS
16879
Upon death's purple altar now
See where the victor-victim bleeds;
Your heads must come
To the cold tomb:
Only the actions of the just
Smell sweet, and blossom in their dust.
JAMES SHIRLEY.
NIGHT UNTO NIGHT SHOWETH FORTH KNOWLEDGE
W***
HEN I survey the bright
Celestial sphere,
So rich with jewels hung, that night
Doth like an Ethiop bride appear;
My soul her wings doth spread,
And heavenward fies,
The almighty mysteries to read
In the large volumes of the skies.
For the bright firmament
Shoots forth no flame
So silent, but is eloquent
In speaking the Creator's name.
No unregarded star
Contracts its light
Into so small a character,
Removed far from our human sight,
But if we steadfast look,
We shall discern
In it, as in some holy book,
How man may heavenly knowledge learn.
It tells the conqueror
That far-stretched power
Which his proud dangers traffic for,
Is but the triumph of an hour;
That from the farthest north
Some nation may
Yet undiscovered issue forth,
And o'er his new-got conquest sway: -
Some nation yet shut in
With hills of ice
## p. 16880 (#580) ##########################################
16880
SONGS HYMNS AND LYRICS
May be let out to scourge his sin,
Till they shall equal him in vice;
And then they likewise shall
Their ruin have:
For as yourselves your empires fall,
And every kingdom hath a grave.
Thus those celestial fires,
Though seeming mute,
The fallacy of our desires
And all the pride of life, confute.
For they have watched since first
The world had birth;
And found sin in itself accursed,
And nothing permanent on earth.
William HABINGTON.
IN IMAGINE PERTRANSIT HOMO
OLLOW thy fair sun, unhappy shadow!
Though thou be black as night,
And she made all of light,
Yet follow thy fair sun, unhappy shadow!
Fº
Follow her, whose light thy light depriveth!
Though here thou livest disgraced,
And she in heaven is placed,
Yet follow her whose light the world reviveth!
Follow those pure beams whose beauty burneth,
That so have scorched thee,
As thou still black must be
Till her kind beams thy black to brightness turneth.
Follow her while yet her glory shineth!
There comes a luckless night
That will dim all her light;—
And this the black unhappy shadow divineth.
Follow still, since so thy fates ordained!
The sun must have his shade,
Till both at once do fade,-
The sun still proved, the shadow still disdained.
T. CAMPION.
## p. 16881 (#581) ##########################################
SONGS HYMNS AND LYRICS
16881
I LOVE TO STEAL AWHILE AWAY
1
LOVE to steal awhile away
From every cumbering care,
And spend the hours of setting day
In humble, grateful prayer.
I love in solitude to shed
The penitential tear,
And all his promises to plead
Where none but God can hear.
I love to think on mercies past,
And future good implore,
And all my cares and sorrow cast
On him whom I adore.
I love by faith to take a view
Of brighter scenes in heaven:
The prospect doth my strength renew,
While here by tempests driven.
Thus, when life's toilsome day is o'er,
May its departing ray
Be calm as this impressive hour,
And lead to endless day.
PHEBE HINSDALE BROWN.
TRUST IN FAITH
O
WORLD, thou choosest not the better part!
It is not wisdom to be only wise,
And on the inward vision close the eyes,
But it is wisdom to believe the heart.
Columbus found a world, and had no chart,
Save one that faith deciphered in the skies;
To trust the soul's invincible surmise
Was all his science and his only art.
Our knowledge is a torch of smoky pine
That lights the pathway but one step ahead,
Across a void of mystery and dread.
Bid, then, the tender light of faith to shine,
By which alone the mortal heart is led
Unto the thinking of the thought divine.
GEORGE SANTAYANA.
XXVIII-1056
## p. 16882 (#582) ##########################################
16882
SONGS HYMNS AND LYRICS
ONWARD, CHRISTIAN SOLDIERS
OM
NWARD, Christian soldiers,
Marching as to war,
With the cross of Jesus
Going on before.
Christ, the royal master,
Leads against the foe;
Forward into battle,
See, his banners go.
Like a mighty army
Moves the Church of God;
Brothers, we are treading
Where the saints have trod:
We are not divided, -
All one body we;
One in hope and doctrine,
One in charity.
Crowns and thrones may perish,
Kingdoms rise and wane,
But the Church of Jesus
Constant will remain;
Gates of hell can never
'Gainst that Church prevail:
We have Christ's own promise,
And that cannot fail.
Onward, then, ye people :
Join our happy throng:
Blend with ours your voices,
In triumphant song -
Glory, laud, and honor
Unto Christ the King.
This through countless ages
Men and angels sing.
SABINE BARING-GOULD.
A PRAYER FOR UNITY
E"
TERNAL Ruler of the ceaseless round
Of circling planets singing on their way;
Guide of the nations from the night profound
Into the glory of the perfect day;
## p. 16883 (#583) ##########################################
SONGS HYMNS AND LYRICS
16883
Rule in our hearts that we may ever be
Guided and strengthened and upheld by thee.
We are of thee, the children of thy love,
The brothers of thy well-beloved Son:
Descend, O Holy Spirit! like a dove,
Into our hearts, that we may be as one,-
As one with thee, to whom we ever tend;
As one with Him, our Brother and our Friend.
We would be one in hatred of all wrong,
One in our love of all things sweet and fair,
One with the joy that breaketh into song,
One with the grief that trembles into prayer,
One in the power that makes thy children free
To follow truth, and thus to follow thee.
Oh! clothe us with thy heavenly armor, Lord, —
Thy trusty shield, thy sword of love divine.
Our inspiration be thy constant word;
We ask no victories that are not thine.
Give or withhold, let pain or pleasure be:
Enough to know that we are serving thee.
John WHITE CHADWICK.
THE STARRY HOST
THE
He countless stars, which to our human eye
Are fixed and steadfast, each in proper place,
Forever bound to changeless points in space,
Rush with our sun and planets through the sky,
And like a flock of birds still onward fy;
Returning never whence began their race,
They speed their ceaseless way with gleaming face
As though God bade them win Infinity.
Ah whither, whither is their forward flight
Through endless time and limitless expanse ?
What power with unimaginable might
First hurled them forth to spin in tireless dance ?
What beauty lures them on through primal night,
So that for them to be is to advance ?
JOHN LANCASTER SPALDING.
## p. 16884 (#584) ##########################################
16884
SONGS HYMNS AND LYRICS
UNIVERSAL WORSHIP
O
THOU, to whom in ancient time
The lyre of Hebrew bards was strung;
Whom kings adored in songs sublime,
And prophets praised with glowing tongue:
Not now on Zion's height alone
Thy favored worshipers may dwell,
Nor where at sultry noon thy Son
Sat weary, by the patriarch's well:
From every place below the skies
The grateful song, the fervent prayer,
The incense of the heart, may rise
To heaven, and find acceptance there.
To thee shall age with snowy hair,
And strength and beauty, bend the knee;
And childhood lisp, with reverent air,
Its praises and its prayers to thee.
O thou, to whom in ancient time
The lyre of prophet-bards was strung,-
To thee at last in every clime
Shall temples rise, and praise be sung.
JOHN PIERPONT.
THE DEDICATION OF A CHURCH
W
HERE ancient forests round us spread,
Where bends the cataract's ocean-fall,
On the lone mountain's silent head,
There are thy temples, God of all!
Beneath the dark-blue midnight arch,
Whence myriad suns pour down their rays,
Where planets trace their ceaseless march,
Father! we worship as we gaze.
The tombs thy altars are; for there,
When earthly loves and hopes have Aed,
To thee ascends the spirit's prayer,
Thou God of the immortal dead!
All space is holy; for all space
Is filled by thee: but human thought
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Burns clearer in some chosen place,
Where thy own words of love are taught.
Here be they taught; and may we know
That faith thy servants knew of old,
Which onward bears through weal and woe,
Till Death the gates of heaven unfold.
Nor we alone: may those whose brow
Shows yet no trace of human cares,
Hereafter stand where
And raise to thee still holier prayers.
do now,
ANDREWS NORTON.
THE OLD CHURCH
C"
LOSE to the road it stood among the trees,
The old, bare church, with windows small and high,
And open doors that gave, on meeting-day,
A welcome to the careless passer-by.
Its straight, uncushioned seats, how hard they seemed !
What penance-doing form they always wore
To little heads that could not reach the text,
And little feet that could not reach the floor.
What wonder that we hailed with strong delight
The buzzing wasp, slow sailing down the aisle,
Or, sunk in sin, beguiled the constant fly
From weary heads, to make our neighbors smile.
How softly from the church-yard came the breeze
That stirred the cedar boughs with scented wings,
And gently fanned the sleeper's heated brow
Or Auttered Grandma Barlow's bonnet strings.
With half-shut eyes, across the pulpit bent,
The preacher droned in soothing tones about
Some theme, that like the narrow windows high,
Took in the sky but left terrestrials out.
Good, worthy man, his work on earth is done:
His place is lost, the old church passed away;
And with them, when they went, there must have gone
That sweet, bright calm, my childhood's Sabbath day.
ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSON.
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SONGS HYMNS AND LYRICS
THE WINGED WORSHIPERS
To Two SWALLOWS IN A CHURCH
AY, guiltless pair!
What seek ye from the fields of heaven?
Ye have no need of prayer,
Ye have no sins to be forgiven.
G
Why perch ye here,
Where mortals to their Maker bend?
Can your pure spirits fear
The God ye never could offend?
Ye never knew
The crimes for which we come to weep;
Penance is not for you,
Blest wanderers of the upper deep!
To you 'tis given
To wake sweet Nature's untaught lays;
Beneath the arch of heaven
To chirp away a life of praise.
Then spread each wing,
Far, far above, o'er lakes and lands,
And join the choirs that sing
In yon blue dome not reared with hands;
Or, if ye stay
To note the consecrated hour,
Teach me the airy way,
And let me try your envied power!
Above the crowd
On upward wings could I but fly,
I'd bathe in yon bright cloud,
And seek the stars that gem the sky.
'Twere heaven indeed,
Through fields of trackless light to soar,
On Nature's charms to feed,
And Nature's own great God adore.
CHARLES SPRAGUE.
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THE CIRCUIT PREACHER
H"
is thin wife's cheek grows pinched and pale with anxiousness
intense;
He sees the brethren's prayerful eyes o'er all the conference;
He hears the bishop slowly call the long appointment” rolls,
Where in his vineyard God would place these gatherers of souls.
(
>
Apart, austere, the knot of grim presiding elders sit:
He wonders if some city charge may not for him have writ?
Certes! could they his sermon hear on Paul and Luke awreck,
Then had his talent ne'er been hid on Annomessix Neck!
Poor rugged heart, be still a pause, and you, worn wife, be meek!
Two years of banishment they read far down the Chesapeake!
Though Brother Bates, less eloquent, by Wilmington is wooed,
The Lord that counts the sparrow's fall shall feed his little brood.
«Cheer up, my girl! here Brother Riggs our circuit knows 'twill
please :
He raised three hundred dollars there, besides the marriage fees.
What! tears from us who preached the word these thirty years or
SO -
Two years on barren Chincoteague, and two in Tuckahoe ?
“The schools are good, the brethren say, and our church holds the
wheel:
The Presbyterians lost their house; the Baptists lost their zeal.
The parsonage is clean and dry; the town has friendly folk,-
Not half so dull as Murderkill, nor proud like Pocomoke.
“Oh, thy just will, our Lord, be done! though these eight seasons
more
We see our ague-crippled boys pine on the Eastern shore,
While we, thy stewards, journey out our dedicated years
Midst foresters of Nanticoke or heathen of Tangiers !
“Yea! some must serve on God's frontiers, and I shall fail perforce
To sow upon some better ground my most select discourse :
At Sassafras or Smyrna preach my argument on Drink,'
My series on the Pentateuch at Appoquinimink.
«Gray am I, brethren, in the work, though tough to bear my part:
It is these drooping little ones that sometimes wring my heart,
And cheat me with the vain conceit the cleverness is mine
To fill the churches of the Elk, and pass the Brandywine.
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SONGS HYMNS AND LYRICS
« These hairs were brown when, full of hope, ent’ring these holy
lists,
Proud of my order as a knight, — the shouting Methodists,-
I made the pine woods ring with hymns, with prayer the night-
winds shook,
And preached from Assawaman Light far north as Bombay Hook.
“My nag was gray, my gig was new fast went the sandy miles;
The eldest trustees gave me praise, the fairest sisters smiles;
Still I recall how Elder Smith of Worten Heights averred
My Apostolic Parallels the best he ever heard.
«All winter long I rode the snows, rejoicing on my way;
At midnight our revival hymns rolled o'er the sobbing bay;
Three Sabbath sermons, every week, should tire a man of brass-
And still our fervent membership must have their extra class!
(
"Aggressive with the zeal of youth, in many a warm requite
I terrified Immersionists, and scourged the Millerite;
But larger, tenderer charities such vain debates supplant,
When the dear wife, saved by my zeal, loved the Itinerant.
“No cooing dove, of storms afeard, she shared my life's distress -
A singing Miriam, alway, in God's poor wilderness.
The wretched at her footstep smiled, the frivolous were still:
A bright path marked her pilgrimage, from Blackbird to Snowhill.
"A new face in the parsonage, at church a double pride! -
Like the Madonna and her babe they filled the Amen side):
Crouched at my feet in the old gig, my boy, so fair and frank,
Naswongo's darkest marshes cheered, and sluices of Choptank.
“My cloth drew close; too fruitful love my fruitless life outran:
The townfolk marveled, when we moved, at such a caravan!
I wonder not my lads grew wild, when, bright, without the door
Spread the ripe, luring, wanton world — and we, within, so poor!
"For, down the silent cypress aisles came shapes even me to scout,
Mocking the lean flanks of my mare, my boy's patched roundabout,
And saying: 'Have these starveling boors, thy congregation, souls,
That on their dull heads Heaven and thou pour forth such living
coals? )
« Then prayer brought hopes, half secular, like seers by Endor's
witch:
Beyond our barren Maryland God's folks were wise and rich;
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Where climbing spires and easy pews showed how the preacher
thrived,
And all old brethren paid their rents, and many young ones wived !
«I saw the ships Henlopen pass with chaplains fat and sleek;
From Bishopshead with fancy's sails I crossed the Chesapeake;
In velvet pulpits of the North said my best sermons o'er -
And that on Paul to Patmos driven, drew tears in Baltimore.
“Well! well! my brethren, it is true we should not preach for
pelf;
(I would my sermon on St. Paul the bishop heard himself! )
But this crushed wife — these boys — these hairs! they cut me to
the core;
Is it not hard, year after year, to ride the Eastern Shore ?
“Next year? Yes, yes, I thank you much!
Then my reward
may fall!
(That is a downright fair discourse on Patmos and St. Paul! )
So, Brother Riggs, once more my voice shall ring in the old lists.
Cheer up, sick heart, who would not die among these Methodists ? ”
GEORGE ALFRED TOWNSEND.
SACRIFICE
FASTING
Lent
'T' uplift the curtain with a weary hand
,
Look out while darkness overspreads the way,
And long for day.
Calm peace is frighted with my mood to-night,
Nor visits my dull chamber with her light,
To guide my senses into her sweet rest
And leave me blest.
Long hours since the city rocked and sung
Itself to slumber: only the stars swung
Aloft their torches in the midnight skies
With watchful eyes.
No sound awakes; I, even, breathe no sigh,
Nor hear a single footstep passing by;
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Yet I am not alone, for now I feel
A presence steal
Within my chamber walls: I turn to see
The sweetest guest that courts humanity;
With subtle, slow enchantment draws she near,
And Sleep is here.
What care I for the olive branch of Peace ?
Kind Sleep will bring a thrice-distilled release, -
Nepenthes that alone her mystic hand
Can understand.
And so she bends, this welcome sorceress,
To crown my fasting with her light caress.
Ah, sure my pain will vanish at the bliss
Of her warm kiss.
But still my duty lies in self-denial;
I must refuse sweet Sleep, although the trial
Will reawaken all my depth of pain.
So once again
I lift the curtain with a weary hand:
With more than sorrow, silently I stand,
Look out while darkness overspreads the way,
And long for day.
«Go, Sleep,” I say, before the darkness die,
To one who needs you even more than I;
For I can bear my part alone, but he
Has need of thee.
“ His poor tired eyes in vain have sought relief,
His heart more tired still, with all its grief;
His pain is deep, while mine is vague and dim -
Go thou to him.
« When thou hast fanned him with thy drowsy wings,
And laid thy lips upon the pulsing strings
That in his soul with fret and fever burn,
To me return. ”
She goes.
The air within the quiet street
Reverberates to the passing of her feet;
I watch her take her passage through the gloom
To your dear home.
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Beloved, would you knew how sweet to me
Is this denial, and how fervently
I pray that Sleep may lift you to her breast,
And give you rest -
A privilege that she alone can claim.
Would that my heart could comfort you the same;
But in the censer Sleep is swinging high,
All sorrow's die.
She comes not back, yet all my miseries
Wane at the thought of your calm sleeping eyes -
Wane, as I hear the early matin bell
The dawn foretell.
And so, dear heart, still silently I stand,
Uplift the curtain with a weary hand;
The long, long night has bitter been and lone,
But now 'tis gone.
Dawn lights her candles in the East once more,
And darkness flees her chariot before;
The Lenten morning breaks with holy ray,
And it is day!
BRIER
Good Friday
B
ECAUSE, dear Christ, your tender, wounded arm
Bends back the brier that edges life's long way,
That no hurt comes to heart, to soul no harm,
I do not feel the thorns so much to-day.
Because I never knew your care to tire,
Your hand to weary guiding me aright,
Because you alk before and crush the brier,
It does not pierce my feet so much to-night.
Because so often you have hearkened to
My selfish prayers, I ask but one thing now:
That these harsh hands of mine add not unto
The crown of thorns upon your bleeding brow.
E. PAULINE JOHNSON (“Tekahionwake”).
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SONGS HYMNS AND LYRICS
ART THOU WEARY?
AKT
RT thou weary, art thou languid,
Art thou sore distressed ?
“Come to me,” saith One, «and coming,
Be at rest. ”
Hath he marks to lead me to him,
If he be my Guide ?
“In his feet and hands are wound-prints,
And his side. "
Is there diadem as Monarch,
That his brow adorns ?
« Yea, a crown, in very surety,
But of thorns. ”
If I find him, if I follow
What his guerdon here?
“Many a sorrow, many a labor,
Many a tear. »
If I still hold closely to him,
What hath be at last ?
“Sorrow vanquished, labor ended,
Jordan passed. ”
If I ask him to receive me,
Will he say me nay?
“Not till earth, and not till heaven,
Pass away. ”
Finding, following, keeping, struggling,
Is he sure to bless ?
«Saints, apostles, prophets, martyrs,
Answer, Yes. ”
ST. STEPHEN THE SABAITE.
Translation of John Mason Neale.
THE GUEST
[Behold, I stand at the door, and knock: if any man hear my voice, and
open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him; and he with me. ]
PEECHLESS Sorrow sat with me;
I was sighing wearily.
Lamp and fire were out; the rain
Wildly beat the window-pane.
S"
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In the dark we heard a knock,
And a hand was on the lock:
One in waiting spake to me,
Saying sweetly,
"I am come to sup with thee ! »
All my room was dark and damp:
“Sorrow,” said I, “trim the lamp;
Light the fire, and cheer thy face;
Set the guest-chair in its place. ”
And again I heard the knock;
In the dark I found the lock:-
“Enter! I have turned the key!
Enter, Stranger,
Who art come to sup with me! ”
Opening wide the door He came,
But I could not speak his name;
In the guest-chair took his place,
But I could not see his face!
When my cheerful fire was beaming,
When my little lamp was gleaming,
And the feast was spread for three,
Lo! my Master
Was the Guest that supped with me!
HARRIET MCEWEN KIMBALL.
I HOLD STILL
PR
Ain's furnace heat within me quivers,
God's breath upon the flame doth blow,
And all my heart in anguish shivers,
And trembles at the fiery glow:
And yet I whisper, As God will!
And in his hottest fire hold still.
He comes and lays my heart, all heated,
On the hard anvil, minded so
Into his own fair shape to beat it
With his great hammer, blow on blow:
And yet I whisper, As God will!
And at his heaviest blows hold still.
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He takes my softened heart and beats it, -
The sparks fly off at every blow;
He turns it o'er and o'er, and heats it,
And lets it cool, and makes it glow:
And yet I whisper, As God will!
And, in his mighty hand, hold still.
Why should I murmur? for the sorrow
Thus only longer-lived would be;
Its end may come, and will, to-morrow,
When God has done his work in me:
So I say, trusting, As God will!
And, trusting to the end, hold still.
He kindles for my profit purely
Affliction's glowing fiery brand,
And all his heaviest blows are surely
Inflicted by a Master-hand:
So I say, praying, As God will!
And hope in him, and suffer still.
Julius STURM (German).
WISHES AND PRAYERS
0
UR wishes and our prayers are not
Always the same;
Alas! we often wish for what
We dare not name.
We strive to pray with bitter tears
For what we should,
But sadder than all else appears
The prayed-for good.
Lord! pardon me if I deplore
My granted prayer:
Lord, what thou taught'st me to pray for,
Teach me to bear.
MARGARET DELAND.
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