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POEMS 
 
 BY 
 
 S 
 
 TAMAR ANNE KERMODE. 
 
 ., ,\< 
 
 
 BALTIMORE : 
 
 GEORGE LYCETT, 
 
 44 Lexington Street, 
 1874. 
 
76 M 
 .Ks* 
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1874, by 
 TAMAR ANNE KEEMODE, in the Office of the Librarian of 
 Congress, at Washington. 
 
 BAtTIMORE t 
 
 CHAS. HARVEY & CO., PRINTERS, 
 No. 3 Post Office Avenue. 
 
 1874. 
 
!POE JMES- 
 
 THE WIDOW OFNAIN. 
 
 JL H ! who can tell the depth of woe, 
 ||5| Which filled the loving mother's heart, 
 As slowly, one by one, she saw 
 Her hopes depart. 
 
 Her only son, her gentle child, 
 
 He — who from youth had been her stay, 
 Whose pallid lips still on her smiled, 
 
 Was passing away. 
 
 Dark shades kept flitting o'er his brow, 
 She saw the light fade from his eye ; 
 
 She bent to hear his accents low, 
 His last good-bye. 
 
 And then in loneliness and gloom, 
 
 She stood beside the lowly bed ; 
 Her flower was blighted in its bloom, 
 
 Her son was dead. 
 
 No more, his thoughtful, loving care 
 Would banish sorrow from her side; 
 
 Gone was the good, the brave, the fair, 
 Her hope, her pride. 
 
I THE WIDOW OP NAIN. 
 
 The heavy tears, which fell like rain 
 
 Upon his quiet, icy face, 
 Boiled silently away again, 
 
 And left no trace. 
 
 Mourners then bore him towards the grave, 
 With many a sigh and many a tear; 
 
 They knew not One with power to save, 
 Was drawing near. 
 
 "Lay down the bier," a soft voice said, 
 A voice which banished thoughts of pain; 
 
 And called to the spirit of the dead, 
 " Come back again ! " 
 
 And through the veins, so cold and still, 
 Once more the life blood freely sped; 
 
 The pulses beat with a wild thrill, 
 Death's terrors fled. 
 
 Back towards the cot, the bearers turned, 
 With songs and shouts of grateful joy; 
 
 The widow's lamp then brightly burned, 
 She had her boy. 
 
 Jesus, the Saviour of mankind, 
 
 Passed from their midst, and went his way; 
 Healing the sick, the maimed, the blind, 
 
 Making night day. 
 
 O gentle Lord ! look down, we pray, 
 Soothe the tumult of our heart's emotion ; 
 
SLEEP. 
 
 Let us still firmly, humbly strive to pay 
 To Thee devotion. 
 
 And though our dead may come not to us here, 
 Though their dear voices, we may hear no more ; 
 
 May we believe, that to a brighter sphere, 
 They've gone before. 
 
 There where no grief, no touch of sorrow's blight, 
 May the strong ties of pure affection sever ; 
 
 There may we meet them in those realms of light, 
 And dwell forever. 
 
 SLEEP. 
 
 (LOSE our drooping eyelids, 
 v |^ Faithful watches keep; 
 Place thy seal upon them, 
 Gentle, peaceful, sleep; 
 Guardian of the night, 
 Send us visions bright. 
 
 Soothe the blooming infant, 
 On its mother's breast; 
 
 Send the weak and weary, 
 Thy great blessing — rest; 
 
 Through the solemn night, 
 
 Till the morning's light. 
 
 Linger near the couch, 
 Of misery and pain ; 
 
CASTLES IN THE AIR. 
 
 Let thy tender touch, 
 
 Heal the wasted frame ; 
 Put all grief to flight, 
 Angel of the night. 
 
 CASTLES IN THE AIR, 
 
 JUtf OTHER, mother! I am trying, 
 ^^ Through the future's veil to gaze; 
 Slowly moves the misty curtain, 
 
 Trembling in the golden rays; 
 In their light, my pathway brightens, 
 
 All life's journey will be fair. 
 " Child, awake from idle dreaming, 
 
 Build not castles in the air." 
 
 Why deride my simple fancies? 
 
 Nought of sadness, or of strife 
 E'er will cast a shadow o'er me, 
 
 I shall be a happy wife. 
 Love will make of earth an Eden, 
 
 Well I love my own dear Clare ; 
 " Daughter, life has many burdens, 
 
 Build not castles in the air. 
 
 Mother, speak not thus in sorrow, 
 
 Faith is not a broken toy ; 
 Hope and truth are strong, enduring, 
 
 These are mine, they give me joy. 
 
SONG OF SPRING. 
 
 From my peaceful little cottage, 
 Love will banish dreary care; 
 
 "Love, my daughter, is deceitful, 
 Build not castles in the air." 
 
 Like a note of solemn warning, 
 
 Comes that sad and mournful tone; 
 If my priceless treasures leave me, 
 
 Can I live unloved, alone? 
 Come, dark clouds, and hide the future, 
 
 Hide the prospect, bleak and hare; 
 " Trust in God, my child, to guide thee, 
 
 Build not castles in the air." 
 
 SONG OF SPRING. 
 
 #VER the hill tops, and over the plain, 
 Touching the earth with her lightsome tread, 
 G^yly she came, with her flowery train, 
 
 And winter away from her path has fled 
 The soft sweet voices of mountain streams, 
 
 In rippling notes, are singing her praise; 
 They have felt the power of her bright sunbeams, 
 
 They have shone in the light of her cheering rays. 
 She has called from their graves, the sleeping flowers; 
 
 And clothed them in beautiful life and bloom; 
 They have felt the spell of her glittering showers 
 
 Unclasp the bands of their dreary tomb. 
 
10 IT MIGHT HAVE BEEN. 
 
 Beautiful spring! what a power is thine! 
 
 Sunshine and joy still near thee stray; 
 Rich are the gifts laid at thy shrine, 
 
 But ah ! while we gaze, thou art passing away„ 
 
 IT MIGHT HAVE BEEN. 
 
 fT might have been — in these few simple words 
 Is hidden many a bitter, deep regret 
 For hours of gladness, joyous, pure and sweet, 
 
 Whose sun is now alas ! forever set. 
 The words come home to almost every heart, 
 
 They find an echo in each quiet cell ; 
 Some perhaps are thinking of the slumbering dead, 
 
 Of blighted hopes, too deep for grief to tell; 
 "It might have been — hope's light forever fled 
 
 When the cold damp earth upon the coffin fell. 
 
 " It might have been," and from the moss grown grave, 
 
 A mother turns to hide a falling tear; 
 Her sky is overcast with angry clouds, 
 
 A short time since, 'twas sunny, bright and clear. 
 Her fondest hopes were placed upon her child, 
 
 Perchance her only one, her joy, her pride; 
 The staff to lean upon, when age should come, 
 
 To cling to as she felt life's ebbing tide, 
 With its cold waters, rolling o'er her heart. 
 
 "It might have been," why was the boon denied? 
 
THE RAINBOW. 
 
 « It might have been "-a felon in his cell, 
 
 In deepest grief, looks back to childhood's hours; 
 That time of peace-so holy is its sped, 
 
 He seems to breathe the fragrance of its flowers. 
 Again he is a child, again he feels 
 
 His mother's hand pass lightly o'er his bead; 
 Again her blessing falls upon his ears, 
 
 And then he wildly starts in fear and dread : 
 >Tis a dream, he cries, a dream that haunts me now, 
 And memory brings no joy, for hope has fled. 
 
 "It might have been," a Christian meekly sighs, 
 
 A touch of sadness lingers in the tone ; 
 The friends I loved in youth; where are they now? 
 
 Their place is vacant— aged and alone, 
 I travel slowly on towards that bourne, 
 
 That refuge where the weary heart finds rest; 
 The loved and cherished smile not on my path 
 
 "It might have been," my God, thou knowest best; 
 Grant when I leave this changeful life of care, 
 
 That I may dwell forever with the blessed. 
 
 THE RAINBOW. 
 
 § RIGHTLY the colours, harmoniously blending,, 
 Shine forth against the dark and angry sky, 
 Forming the graceful bow, so gently bending, 
 Type of the promise, given by God on high, 
 
12 OUR FATHER, WHO ART IN HEAVEN. 
 
 That never more liis turbid floods descending 
 Should swallow up the human family. 
 
 Blessed token, glorious harbinger of peace, 
 From a most gracious Lord, to sinners here; 
 
 Be thou a guiding light to faith's increase, 
 
 A link to draw us towards that heavenly sphere 
 
 "Where sin and sorrow, grief and care will cease, 
 And gratitude and joy will banish every fear. 
 
 Bright bow of promise, calm, lovely and serene, 
 Thou'rt slowly passing now from mortal sight: 
 
 Thy colours catch the sun's soft parting beam, 
 And then they vanish 'midst the flood of light 
 
 Farewell ! thou'rt gone like a vision or a dream, 
 The clouds are scattered, all is clear and bright. 
 
 OUR FATHER, WHO ART IN HEAVEN. 
 
 #UR Father" — oft these tender words, 
 In prayer we say to Thee ; 
 We know that our appealing cry 
 
 Will ne'er unheeded be; 
 We feel, when clouds of sorrow rise, 
 
 Obscuring joy's bright ray, 
 That light still shines beyond the gloom, 
 In pure and perfect day. 
 
 "Our Father," Thou alone can guide 
 Us onward, on our way ; 
 
MORNING, 
 
 We cling in confidence to Thee, 
 
 When trials near us stray; 
 Still may we choose the narrow path, 
 
 Though thorny it may be ; 
 'Twill lead us to a better land, 
 
 Where we may dwell with Thee. 
 
 "Our Father," Thou who knowest the thoughts 
 
 Of every human heart, 
 Still grant that from Thy loving care, 
 
 We never may depart. 
 This world has little joy to give 
 
 From its alluring store; 
 Our treasures are beyond its vale* 
 
 Where sin may come no more. 
 
 ia 
 
 MORNING. 
 
 fOW the shadows float away, 
 Softly, brightly, dawns the day; 
 The shining stars set, one by one, 
 Their lustre's dimmed, their glory's gone 
 They've faded in the brilliant light, 
 Which warmly greets our eager sight; 
 Songs of gratitude we raise, 
 God, our Father, in thy praise. 
 
 Hark ! the birds their anthems sing. 
 To the great Almighty King; 
 
14 MAY FLOWERS. 
 
 Watch the flowers lift their heads 
 From their sparkling, dewy beds; 
 ' Listen to the perfumed breeze, 
 Sighing 'midst the leafy trees; 
 God is great, to Him we raise 
 Hymns and songs of prayer and praise. 
 
 See the shining fields of corn, 
 "Waving in the light of morn ; 
 Labourers, tillers of the soil, 
 Pause, and pray before you toil. 
 God is good, and kind to all, 
 Rich and poor and great and small; 
 Let us all our voices raise, 
 In our great Redeemer's praise. 
 
 MAY FLOWERS. 
 
 OWEET, tender, fragile blossoms, 
 1Q With tints so bright and rare, 
 Softly budding in the shades, 
 Of the lonely forest glades, 
 Why hide ye there? 
 
 Do ye shrink from the rude touch, 
 
 Which would draw ye to the light? 
 Would the strong and eager grasp, 
 Which would hold ye in its clasp, 
 Bring a blight? 
 
GUARDIAN ANGELS. 15 
 
 When taken from your homes, 
 
 Would ye pine and droop and die ? 
 
 Would ye lose that brilliant hue? 
 
 Would ye miss the morning's dew ? 
 The zephyr's sigh ? 
 
 I'll not take ye from the stems, 
 
 I would not see ye fade ; 
 Live on, in quiet grace, 
 In your own sweet native place, 
 
 In the shade. 
 
 GUARDIAN ANGELS. 
 
 ARE angels with us? do they deign to keep 
 Their watch upon our life's uneven way ? 
 Are they the silent guardians of our sleep ? 
 
 The friends invisible, who day by day, 
 Sit by our hearth and prompt the serious thought, 
 That leads perchance to patience and to prayer? 
 Are theirs the folded wings, that softly caught 
 Our lives, and made them a peculiar care ? 
 
 Are angels with us? was that fluttering sigh, 
 A faint low echo of the autumn breeze? 
 
 We know the tinted leaves will fall and die, 
 That even now they tremble on the trees. 
 
 'Twas not the zephyr, we would gladly think 
 Our faithful, holy friends were passing by, 
 
16 
 
 And drawing gently closer, link by link, 
 
 The bands that draw us towards our homes on high„ 
 
 Are angels with us? can we see the light 
 
 Of snowy robes, when sorrows near us stray? 
 "Will death's dim path be marked with visions bright? 
 
 In the dark valley will they with us stay? 
 Let us believe it: angel friends and guides, 
 
 Keep us from evil, guardians of our way; 
 Life's hours are passing fast, when twilight glides 
 
 Upon our path — still bless the closing day. 
 
 CHARITY. 
 
 4H! which of us can truly say, 
 The gift of charity is mine? 
 Its hope is with me, day by day, 
 
 It lights my path with rays divine; 
 Its trust and faith is in my heart, 
 
 I can forgive my bitterest foe ; 
 Though poison drops from falsehood's dart, 
 To wound me, as I onward go. 
 
 Ah! which of us can still be kind, 
 
 Enduring all things to the end; 
 Can hope, when darkness makes us blind, 
 
 That truth's bright shades for us will blend. 
 Can still believe that life is fair, 
 
 That friends are trusty as of yore ; 
 
THE MOSS ROSE. 17 
 
 <Can meekly bow our heads in prayer, 
 Glad for what life has still in store. 
 
 All things are possible with God, 
 
 His grace can give His children rest ; 
 Sweet blossoms bloom above the sod, 
 
 And peace may come a welcome guest. 
 Our strength is weakness, well we know, 
 
 And often, fainting in the strife, 
 Our hearts would let the angel go, 
 
 That waits to beautify a life. 
 
 THE MOSS ROSE. 
 
 A LEGEND. 
 
 [HE Spirit of the flowers 
 
 Came to visit all her bowers, 
 Through the long and sunny hours 
 
 Of a pleasant summer's day; 
 She passed through valleys fair, 
 (Shadows never lingered there) 
 Kissed her children bright and rare, 
 As she met them, on her way. 
 
 When in the glowing west, 
 Behind a golden crest, 
 The sun had sunk to rest, 
 And the blossoms bowed their heads, 
 
18 THE MOSS ROSE. 
 
 The leaves were gently stirred 
 By some weary, fluttering bird, 
 This was all the sound she heard, 
 As she floated o'er their beds. 
 
 "Nature rests" — the Spirit said — 
 " Peace a canopy has spread, 
 I will also seek a bed 
 
 'Neath this spreading bush, or tree; n 
 Roses drooped, in mute delight, 
 Waved above the sleeping sprite, 
 Blushing red and snowy white, 
 
 Scattering leaflets in their glee. 
 
 When the night had passed away. 
 And the rosy light of day 
 Chased the dewdrops all away, 
 
 Then the Spirit softly said : 
 "Children— loveliest of them all, 
 Roses — bending at my call, 
 What bright blessing shall there fall 
 
 On the flowers above my head?" 
 
 " We have perfume, colours rare, 
 
 We are beautiful and fair, 
 
 We would ask from your kind care 
 
 One charm, fond sprite, one more ." 
 "'Tis yours — the Spirit said, 
 The stem that holds each head, 
 With moss shall be o'erspread, 
 
 And I crown you, evermore." 
 
OKATTTUDE. 19 
 
 GRATITUDE. 
 
 SRATEFUL to Thee, my God, 
 Let me still be; 
 Glad for the mercies sent, 
 Ever by Thee. 
 
 Glad for the sunny days, 
 
 For the bright rain; 
 Feeling Thy tender care, 
 
 Even in pain. 
 
 Glad for the links that make, 
 Friendship's pure chain; 
 
 Glad that the sorrows past, 
 Come not again. 
 
 Glad, when the shadows fall, 
 
 After the day; 
 Glad, when the morning sends 
 
 Darkness away. 
 
 Grateful for all my life, 
 
 Let me still be; 
 Bringing a thankful heart, 
 
 My God, to Thee. 
 
20 THE FIRST GRAY HAIR. 
 
 THE FIRST GRAY HAIR. 
 
 HY sits she there in silence, 
 Apart from the festive throng? 
 Why is her low, sweet voice not heard, 
 
 To join in the merry song? 
 Why steals across her sunny brow, 
 
 That sorrowful shade of care? 
 What is that silken thread she holds? 
 That thread is her first gray hair. 
 
 "VJIA^' 
 
 Fond nature, from her brilliant mines 
 
 Of priceless, untold wealth, 
 Has given her eyes the diamond's light, 
 
 Her cheeks the rose of health. 
 Bright curls are falling lovingly 
 
 Round her brow so soft and fair; 
 But tears fall sadly on the hand 
 
 That holds her first gray hair. 
 
 She looks upon it with earnest gaze, 
 
 And thinks of the gladsome past; 
 Of the flowers that blossomed in her path, 
 
 Of their perfume around her cast; 
 Of eyes that watched kindly over her, 
 
 With tenderness and care; 
 Their loving glances, sealed in death, 
 
 Cannot fall on her first gray hair. 
 
REMEMBER THY CREATOR, &C. 
 
 Fair lady— time, with rapid wings, 
 
 Is ever gliding on, 
 And in our path he places still 
 
 His landmarks, one by one. 
 The rose will fade from the fairest cheek, 
 
 Dim will grow the brightest eye; 
 And the treasures of earth we leave behind, 
 
 When called upon to die. 
 
 Give heed to the gentle, silent guest, 
 
 Its message is all for thee; 
 'Tis a link in destiny's mighty chain, 
 
 That leads to eternity. 
 The time will come when an angel's wings 
 
 Will banish all human cares, 
 And a crown of glory will take the place 
 
 Of silvery, soft gray hairs. 
 
 21 
 
 REMEMBER THY CREATOR, IN THE 
 DAYS OF THY YOUTH. 
 
 §OW, when bright health is shining on thy cheek, 
 When joy's pure light is sparkling in thine eye, 
 Remember now thy God, gentle and meek, 
 
 Thou hast not known life's care nor sorrow's sigh ; 
 And yet, these may be thine, turn thou and seek 
 The love that nought can change, that ne'er will 
 die 
 
22 THE OLD MAN. 
 
 And when the waves of life shall round thee play, 
 Thou' It not be like a reed, tossed by the gale; 
 
 Thou wilt not fear the foaming, angry spray, 
 Thou wilt not heed the tempest's mournful wail ; 
 
 Thy Father's hand will guide thee on thy way, 
 His love and tenderness will never fail. 
 
 Tnrn to thy God — the earth has nought in store 
 To fill the longing of thy eager heart; 
 
 Turn thy bright eyes towards the heavenly shore, 
 Look through the misty veil, thou'lt see in part; 
 
 Thy soul's immortal, it must upward soar, 
 This world's soft lights and shades will soon de- 
 part. 
 
 THE OLD MAN. 
 
 WITH weary, faltering, slow, uncertain tread, 
 He passes on ; 
 His hair is snowy white, and from his path, 
 Joy's light has gone. 
 
 His feeble form is bent beneath the weight 
 
 Of many years; 
 And he has almost drained life's precious cup. 
 
 Of hopes and fears. 
 
 His eyes, once sparkling in the morning light, 
 Are faded now; 
 
poverty's answer to pride. 23 
 
 And man y a wrinkle's deeply traced across, 
 His once smooth brow. 
 
 The friends he loved and trusted in his youth, 
 
 Have passed away ; 
 And thinking of their graves, he feels the power 
 
 Of death's keen sway. 
 
 The flush of light which hope once wore for him, 
 
 Vanished in gloom ; 
 And through the heavy mists, which shroud his way, 
 
 He sees a tomb. 
 
 But ah ! the old man's heart is firm and strong, 
 
 For him no dread 
 Is lurking near his final resting place, 
 
 His narrow bed. 
 
 He knows beyond this world there waits for him 
 
 A home of light ; 
 A long, eternal youth will then be his, 
 
 Youth without pain or blight. 
 
 POVERTY'S ANSWER TO PRIDE. 
 
 OVERTY, dressed in her sombre attire, 
 Sallied out, one wintry day, 
 In hopes of obtaining food and fire ; 
 She passed on her dreary way, 
 
24 poverty's answer to pride. 
 
 And bending low, with quivering lip, 
 
 And tearful, downcast eye, 
 She told her sorrowful tale of want, 
 
 To each careless passer by. 
 And some, as they thought of their happy homes, 
 
 Gave heed to her earnest cry. 
 
 Pride, arrayed in gorgeous dress 
 
 Of silks and satins rare, 
 Stood glancing at Poverty's keen distress 
 
 And attitude of despair, 
 Then scornfully curling her haughty lip 
 
 And assuming a regal grace, 
 She inquired what Poverty wanted there; 
 
 Her gaunt and wolfish tace 
 And shrinking form were objects mean, 
 
 And certainly out of place. 
 
 Poverty, hearing the bitter taunt, 
 
 Came close to the side of Pride, 
 And restraining her sorrowful tears for awhile, 
 
 She slowly and calmly replied: 
 " My presence inspires you with nought but disgust,. 
 
 I am hungry and sad and forlorn ; 
 Yet I would not exchange my much abused rags, 
 
 My garments all tattered and worn, 
 For all the bright gems that are bound in your hair, 
 
 Your cold, haughty brow to adorn. 
 
 " You're a curse in the palace, a curse in the cot, 
 Your blight falls alike upon all, 
 
GIVE US THIS PEACE. 25" 
 
 And woe to the household where you are a guest, 
 
 Whether palace, or cottage, or hall. 
 Woe, woe to the being, in whose heart you raise 
 
 Your altar of unhallowed fire; 
 The flattering hopes that you place on the pile, 
 
 Will sink him down deep in the mire ; 
 And with anguish of spirit and head bowed in shame-,. 
 
 He will see the last bright spark expire." 
 
 GIVE US THIS PEACE. 
 
 "The peace of God, which passeth all under star ding." 
 
 fHESE words fell softly on my ears, and so I 
 prayed, 
 " Give us this peace, O God ! and in each breast 
 All stormy thoughts and feelings shall be stayed, 
 
 And we shall find in thee our perfect rest. 
 We're weary of the toil and care and strife ; 
 These dark attendants of our onward way 
 Still cast their dreary shadows on our life ; 
 
 Look down, dear Lord, and send them all away.'*' 
 And then a voice, soft, solemn, low and sweet, 
 Seemed to my fancy, whispering in my ear: 
 44 Be not cast down nor troubled, 'tis but meet 
 
 That thuu shouldst bear thy cross, then wherefore- 
 fear 
 The trials in thy path— thy Saviour looketh down, 
 And those who wait with patience, win at last a 
 crown. 
 
SUFFICIENT FOR THE DAY. 
 
 SUFFICIENT FOR THE DAY. 
 
 H ! wherefore should we borrow 
 Future pain or future sorrow? 
 •Cares perchance may come to-morrow, 
 Let them come — they may not stay. 
 Often wearily we're sighing, 
 Hope is often drooping, dying, 
 Still despairing, or defying 
 
 Griefs, which are not of to-day. 
 
 Many a tender vow is broken, 
 Many a whispered word is spoken, 
 Many a gift and many a token 
 
 Gild or shroud life's fitful way; 
 Ever watching, ever keeping, 
 Vigils o'er the dead, the sleeping, 
 Need our hearts be ever reaping 
 
 Griefs which are not of to-day? 
 
 Onward swiftly we are gliding, 
 Faith is patient, but her chiding 
 Meets with many a mock deriding, 
 
 While time's waves around us play; 
 Listen to her voice beseeching, 
 Solemn, powerful, and far-reaching, 
 Sufficient, is her teaching, 
 
 Are the trials of to-day. 
 
LITTLE MAGGIE. 27 
 
 LITTLE MAGGIE. 
 
 fHERE are blossoms in the meadow, little Maggie, 
 Sing and play; 
 The sunbeams fall around you, pretty darling, 
 
 All the day : 
 Tis your springtime, 'tis your bright and happy 
 childhood's 
 Month of May. 
 
 There are wondrous things of beauty, little Maggie, 
 
 All for you ; 
 There are hills and groves and valleys filled with 
 flowers, 
 
 Bright with dew ; 
 There's a lovely sky, forever softly blending 
 
 Gold with blue. 
 
 There's the solemn night, when the moon's pure 
 light is shining 
 O'er the dale ; 
 And countless stars like jewels in the heavens, 
 
 Bright and pale; 
 Would you look beyond the dark, mysterious sur- 
 face, 
 Through the veil ? 
 
 You cannot see that beauty, little Maggie, 
 Turn away : 
 
28 the nightingale's love for the rose. 
 
 Earth and sky are giving costly gifts to charm you, 
 
 Come and play ; 
 Make the most of this — your gay and sunny child- 
 hood's 
 
 Happy May. 
 
 Will your footsteps e'er grow weary, little Maggie? 
 
 When life's care 
 Shall cast its silent shadows o'er the pathway 
 
 Now so fair? 
 You look with earnest eyes, and shake your curls 
 
 Of golden hair. 
 
 Go and gather shining pebbles, little Maggie, 
 
 Sing and play; 
 May the sunshine always mingle with the shadows, 
 
 When they stray 
 Around you ; and may all your hidden future 
 
 Be like May. 
 
 THE NIGHTINGALE'S LOVE FOR THE 
 ROSE. 
 
 HE feathered creation a meeting once held, 
 At which 'twas determined to bring 
 A complaint on a subject that troubled them much» 
 Before Solomon, Israel's king. 
 
THE NIGHTINGALE'S LOVE FOR THE ROSE. 29 
 
 They voted a charge against one of their friends, 
 
 A poor little ignorant wight, 
 And accused him of nodding and moping all day, 
 
 And persistently singing all night. 
 
 With wings disarranged and with chattering bills, 
 
 They argued, with wonderful power, 
 That silence should reign in the woods and the fields 
 
 And peace should remain in each bower ! 
 "For your highness must know," said the fluttering 
 birds, 
 
 " We are busy — we work while it's light; 
 'Tis but justice we ask — but a simple demand, 
 
 For rest on our perches at night." 
 
 The poor little Nightingale trembled, and stood, 
 
 His wings drooping down to the ground ; 
 Afraid to look- up and afraid to look down, 
 
 In the presence of wisdom profound. 
 "May it please you" — he said, in a sorrowful voice, 
 
 "I would not disturb their repose; 
 My heart almost breaks, while it throbs in my breast, 
 
 With the weight of its love for the rose." 
 
 " I sing to it sweetly, as soft as I can, 
 While it bows to the whispering breeze; 
 
 I touch not a leaf in the beautiful bowers, 
 I bend not a twig on the trees." 
 
 He closed his defence — then his majesty said — 
 " Sweet strains cannot hinder repose ; 
 
30 THE DAY IS FAR SPENT. 
 
 The case is dismissed — let the Nightingale sing 
 When he pleases, his love for the rose. 
 
 THE DAY IS FAR SPENT. 
 
 QTAY with us, stranger, stay and share 
 ^ Our evening meal, our evening prayer. 
 The light which gilds the western sky, 
 Is fading out, the night is nigh. 
 Its shadows dim are gliding near, 
 And we, oppressed with care and fear, 
 Will seek for rest, till breaks the day ; 
 Remain with us, kind stranger, stay. 
 
 Our hearts are sad, bowed down with grief r 
 Our gracious Prince, our mighty chief, 
 Will gently greet us — nevermore; 
 Our Israel, who will now restore? 
 We thought that He, so like a kiDg, 
 Would make the desert places ring; 
 Alas! vain hopes forever fled, 
 Our friend — our mighty friend is dead. 
 
 The two disciples paused, and sighed, 
 With tender words the stranger tried 
 To soothe their hearts, to bring relief, 
 And win them from their thoughts of grief. 
 
WATCHMAN, WHAT OF THE NIGHT. 
 
 The simple board was quickly spread, 
 He blessed, and while he held the bread, 
 The darkness vanished from their sight, 
 They saw the Lord of life and light. 
 
 31 
 
 WATCHMAN, WHAT OF THE NIGHT? 
 T ATCHMAN, what of the night? 
 
 Are the stars all brightly shining? 
 
 Are the beautiful, floating clouds 
 Showing their silver lining? 
 
 Has the noise of the busy day, 
 Its strife and toil and trouble, 
 
 All silently passed away- 
 Passed like an empty bubble? 
 
 Watchman, what of the night? 
 
 Is your lamp still brightly burning? 
 Can you tell by the eastern sky, 
 
 That the day will be soon returning? 
 Are the shadows so thick and dark? 
 
 Are the dews on your pathway lying? 
 Cannot you see that the night 
 
 Is away from the morning flying? 
 
 Watchman, what of the night? 
 
 Life's long dark night of sorrow; 
 Look over the river and see 
 
 The dawn of a glorious morrow. 
 
-32 a child's song. 
 
 The light of the stars is dim, 
 (True, watchman, this is your story) 
 
 Eternity's sun will rise, 
 And shine forever in glory. 
 
 A CHILD'S SONG. 
 
 riRETTY, pretty birdies, 
 Flying through the air 
 Eyes as bright as jewels, 
 
 Feathers smooth and fair. 
 Fluttering o'er the bushes, 
 
 Ever on the wing; 
 Melody's sweet music, 
 Joyous birdies, sing. 
 
 Pretty, pretty birdies, 
 
 Full of life and glee; 
 Hopping on the branches, 
 
 Building in the tree. 
 Bringing grace and beauty, 
 
 To the pleasant bowers; 
 Peeping through the lattice, 
 
 Singing to the flowers. 
 
 Pretty, pretty birdies, 
 Songs of love and praise 
 
THE BREAK OF DAY. 33 
 
 "Greeted us in spring time, 
 
 Blessed our summer days. 
 Like you, happy warblers, 
 
 We would like to be, 
 Giving God our praises, 
 
 Grateful, glad, and free. 
 
 THE BREAK OF DAY. 
 
 OW silently the shadows fade away, 
 How softly come the rosy tints of day! 
 Tlie morning dawns, and waving clouds of light 
 Come floating o'er the sky, in eoiors bright. 
 The sun arises, and each fleecy fold 
 Shines fortn a glittering mass, like polished gold. 
 And cheering rays come down the mountain sides, 
 Touching each river a? it onward glides; 
 The meadows sparkle, rich in drops of dew, 
 The forests wave their crests of changeful hue; 
 A charm is resting on each, peaceful scene, 
 The day is with us, lovely and serene. 
 
 Earth's busy toi ers wake, refreshed from sleep, 
 Eager the world's fair gifts to win and keep; 
 Fortune's proud favorites come upon the scene, 
 And poverty's sad children may be seen. 
 The sun's warm light is shining on them all. 
 Alike upon the cottage and the hall. 
 c 
 
34 TWILIGHT. 
 
 Its friendly beams are scattered o'er the earth, 
 It rests on graves, it falls on scenes of mirth ; 
 Gay childhood gambols on , in merry glee, 
 Old age is glad its joyous rays to see; 
 And even sorrow lifts its drooping head, 
 To watch it touch the living and the dead. 
 
 TWILIGHT. 
 
 Q OFTLY, gently, shadows stray, 
 ^ And the cheerful light of day 
 Fades away. 
 
 Stars, like jewels, pure and bright, 
 Give their own sweet peaceful light 
 To the night. 
 
 And the moon's pale rays are seen 
 Flitting o'er the varied scene, 
 Calm, serene. 
 
 Silence steals o'er hill and plain, 
 Touches lightly gold and gain, 
 Grief and pain, 
 
 Wanders swiftly o'er the earth, 
 Glides o'er want and waste and worth, 
 Joy and mirth, 
 
DREAMING. 35 
 
 Banishes life's noisy din, 
 Seals its tumult and its sin, 
 Without, within. 
 
 Without is peace, and she is blessed, 
 But ah! within how many a breast 
 Is wild unrest. 
 
 Regret and weariness and care 
 Turn from the peace, without so fair, 
 In stern despair. 
 
 My God, let every human flower 
 Feel Thy protecting, healing power, 
 In sorrow's hour. 
 
 And turn each troubled heart to Thee, 
 For Thou, through all eternity, 
 Canst make it free. 
 
 DREAMING. 
 
 §OFTLY the wavelets rise and fall, 
 Rosy and bright, 
 The morning's light, 
 Gilds turret and tower and moss-grown wall. 
 
 And gliding along, towards the open sea, 
 
 While the gentle gales 
 
 Fill their snow white sails, 
 Go the ships o'er the waters merrily. 
 
36 EVENING THOUGHTS. 
 
 The river is blue and the beach is gold, 
 
 The voice of the sea 
 
 Is wild and free, 
 And the shells, their beautiful hues unfold. 
 
 The voice is free, and but it brings, ah! well, 
 
 Full many a tale 
 
 With the fluttering gale, 
 Full many a weird, mysterious spell. 
 
 'Tis but a dream — yet just once more, 
 
 Let us not grieve, 
 
 Let us believe, 
 That we stand on our childhood's lovely shore. 
 
 Let the long years which have passed away, 
 
 From our memories fade, 
 
 Like a sorrowful shade, 
 While we watch the waves of our childhood play. 
 
 Alas! our visions have vanished quite! 
 
 Come back once more, 
 
 Eiver, sea, and shore ! 
 Come back, lost lingering dreams of the night. 
 
 EVENING THOUGHTS. 
 
 JJR cares grow heavier as, day by day, 
 yUg We nearer draw towards our journey's end; 
 Life's rainbow colors, beautiful and bright, 
 No more for us, in softened radiance blend: 
 
AMONG THE SLAIN. 37 
 
 And from our path we miss the form and face 
 Of many a beloved, remembered friend. 
 
 Come back, we cry, and give to us once more 
 The joyous light, the beauty that was ours; 
 
 Come back, and bring the glory to our sky, 
 The bloom and fragrance to our fading flowers; 
 
 Come back, and crown with peace our drooping lives, 
 And cheer with tenderness our lonely hours. 
 
 Come back, alas! unheeded is the voice, 
 That tries to bring us echoes from the dead; 
 
 The night draws darkly in, its gathering pall 
 Is like a heavy mantle o'er us spread ; 
 
 The light has faded in the glowing west- 
 Just so life's gladness from our pathway fled. 
 
 AMONG THE SLAIN. 
 
 jjTTlS hands are folded o'er his pulseless breast, 
 
 HJ His dream of life is o'er; 
 
 Deep is his slumber, solemn is his rest, 
 
 The cannon's heavy roar 
 
 May wake him nevermore. 
 
 Ah ! once he loved the shout of victory, 
 
 But all unheeded now 
 Is the exulting, wild, triumphant cry, 
 
 The flashing sworcl, the bow; 
 
 Death's seal is on his brow. 
 
38 Christ's ministry. 
 
 The thoughts which haunted him by day and night, 
 
 Of glory and of fame, 
 May come no more ; the Talse, deceitful light, 
 
 Which gilds a mortal's name, 
 
 Is but a nickering flame. 
 
 A chair is vacant in his father's home, 
 
 And loving hearts now beat 
 For him, the wanderer, who chose to roam, 
 
 And eyes look down the street, 
 
 Ears listen for his coming feet. 
 
 Who will come forth to tell the watching band 
 
 They watch and wait in vain ? 
 Will say to them that in the far off land, 
 
 Their boy, amidst the slain, 
 
 Lies on the battle plain ? 
 
 CHRIST'S MINISTRY. 
 
 H! many, many hearts were stirred — 
 Tottering old age and hopeful youth 
 Listened alike to each pure word, 
 
 Once uttered by the lips of truth. 
 And softly, tenderly was told 
 
 The glorious news, the gospel plan ; 
 And sinners to the Father's fold 
 Were taken by the " Son of Man." 
 
CHRIST'S MINISTRY. 
 
 «« Walk in the strait and narrow way," 
 
 He urged, "beyond this life of care 
 Are realms of everlasting day, 
 
 And everlasting homes are there. 
 The gates of pearl are open wide, 
 
 The golden streets are smooth and bright; 
 And I will be your faithful guide : 
 
 Turn from the darkness to the light." 
 
 Thus lovingly the "Lamb of God" 
 
 Taught the true doctrine of His grace ; 
 Yet often carelessly the crowd 
 
 Stood looking on His beaming face. 
 "' Come unto Me," He gently said, 
 
 "Come, and be heirs of endless life;" 
 Yet many left the heavenly bread 
 For earthly hopes and worldly strife. 
 
 The chosen few, a little band, 
 
 Pressed closer to their Master's side; 
 They were but grains of rolling sand, 
 
 Left by the human, ebbing tide, 
 Upon life's shore; the Saviour turned, 
 
 And looked upon the desolate place; 
 Then marked the light of love that burned 
 
 Upon each humble follower's face. 
 
 ut Will ye, too, go away?" He said. 
 
 "Not so, Lord, whither should we go? 
 Thou art the life, the truth, the bread, 
 The way— from Thee all blessings flow.' 
 
40 THE BOY AND THE LILY. 
 
 Poor human hearts, long passed away, 
 With hopes and passions like our own 8 
 
 Even one of you could go astray, 
 Could be as worthless as a stone. 
 
 The Master ye professed to love, 
 
 We also serve in our poor way; 
 He sees us from His home above, 
 
 He notes our struggles, day by day. 
 We still must fight like those of old, 
 
 With principalities and powers; 
 Redeemer, lead us to Thy fold, 
 
 And guard us in our darkest hours. 
 
 THE BOY AND THE LILY. 
 
 Jg ADY HERBERT tells a story 
 Ji^ Of a widow's only boy, 
 Who was his mother's heaviest grief, 
 
 His mother's greatest joy. 
 His brain was weak, but still she hoped 
 
 'Twould clearer grow each day, 
 As she listened to the only words, 
 
 The child had learned to say : 
 "I love God." 
 
 The time passed slowly onwards, 
 The days and weeks went by ; 
 
 Spring brought its buds and blossoms, 
 She saw them bloom and die. 
 
THE BOY AND THE LILY. 
 
 While still the poor child wandered, 
 
 Or whispered at his play; 
 With thoughtful, sweet, unconscious grace, 
 
 The words that he could say— 
 "I love God." 
 Months counted into years, 
 
 The boy became a youth; 
 And to the widow's lonely heart, 
 
 There came this solemn truth, 
 That he could never learn to be, 
 
 As she had hoped, her stay ; 
 That other words than those he said r 
 
 Her child would never say— 
 "I love God." 
 Moved by the mother's sorrow, 
 
 An abbot took him in, 
 And with religious care and zeal, 
 
 He tried his love to win. 
 The boy was grateful, true, and kind. 
 
 But nought could send away 
 The cloud that rested on his mind, 
 
 Still only could he say : 
 "I love God." 
 When his simple tasks were over, 
 
 He closed the chapel door ; 
 And reverently he knelt upon, 
 
 The polished marble floor. 
 With troubled face and folded hands, 
 
 He tried to think and pray ; 
 
 41 
 
42 WHO WILL SHOW US ANY GOOD ? 
 
 And softly said the only words 
 
 That he could ever say — 
 
 "I love God." 
 
 One day the abbot missed him 
 
 From his accustomed place ; 
 He found him in a quiet cell, 
 
 Death's seal was on his face. 
 He gently laid him in his grave, 
 
 And on a tablet fair. 
 These words of hope and trust were carved . 
 
 Of faith and earnest prayer — 
 " I love God." 
 Shaded by the pretty tablet, 
 
 A pure white lily grew ; 
 Graceful and perfect were its leaves, 
 
 And beautiful its hue. 
 An emblem of a stainless life, 
 
 A life of peace and joy ; 
 Its root was found within the heart 
 
 Of the poor simple boy. 
 "He loved God." 
 
 WHO WILL SHOW US ANY GOOD? 
 
 jytvjTHO will show us any good ? 
 ;|jjf Hark! "'tis poverty's sad cry; 
 Wildly rings the trembling strain, 
 All unheeded in its pain, 
 As the careless pass it by. 
 
WHO WILL SHOW US ANY GOOD? 
 
 Who will show us any good? 
 
 Oft our path is wrapped in gloom, 
 All things lovely fade and die, 
 •Grief is weeping bitterly, 
 
 Mourning over many a tomb. 
 
 Who will show us any good? 
 
 Pride goes by with haughty tread, 
 Fashion holds its court each day, 
 Truth is growing old and gray, 
 
 Hope looks down with drooping head. 
 
 Who will show us any good ? 
 
 There's a mist before our eyes ; 
 Clouds are hanging o'er our way, 
 We would see a clearer day, 
 
 We would walk 'neath brighter skies. 
 
 Who will show us any good? 
 
 God is ruling over all, 
 From His home of love He sees 
 Life's unending mysteries, 
 
 As its waters rise and fall. 
 
 Who will show us any good? 
 
 Doubting heart, thy Master will; 
 He will gather scattered shreds, 
 Will unite all broken threads, 
 
 And will whisper, " Peace— be still.' 1 
 
 43 
 
44 EDITORS. 
 
 MORNING IN THE COUNTRY. 
 
 3Lj|IGHT'S curtain slowly rolls away, 
 ^[ And the meek stars, so solemn and so bright,. 
 Hide their mysterious, twinkling, trembling lights 
 And softly fade before the dawn of day. 
 
 And floating in the eastern sky, 
 
 The clouds appear, wearing within each fold, 
 The sun's bright robes of purple and of gold, 
 
 While o'er the hills and plains, morn's zephyrs sigh. 
 
 The blossoms lift their drooping heads 
 
 To give their greeting to the warm sunbeams, 
 Which fall so lovingly in golden gleams, 
 
 So tenderly upon their dewy beds. 
 
 Melodiously sweet strains arise, 
 
 The merry birds their happy voices raise, 
 
 In songs of love and joy, in hymns of praise,. 
 
 To God, who rules and reigns beyond the skies* 
 
 EDITORS. 
 
 1 RE they tall and stately men, 
 *3g Who wield the editorial pen? 
 And gravely sit in wisdom's dress, 
 Arranging writings for the press? 
 
HALLOWED BE THY NAME. 
 
 I think I see one, stern and cold, 
 Glancing at papers, new and old. 
 Some of them call a passing smile, 
 Before they join yon favored pile; 
 Others arouse his slumbering ire, 
 And light, next morn, his office tire. 
 
 Ah! aspirants for worldly fame, 
 "Who hope to win a golden name, 
 Unless" great patience you possess, 
 You'll meet with nothing but distress. 
 Though editors are gentlemen, 
 I'll wager, every one of them, 
 Yet manuscripts come thick and fast, 
 And some must be declined at last; 
 And so, my friends, your hopes of tame 
 Will often kindle but a flame. 
 
 45 
 
 HALLOWED BE THY NAME. 
 HY glorious name, O Lord ! 
 
 f 
 
 Will ever hallowed be; 
 
 WW 
 
 Bright angels gladly sing, 
 To Thee, their mighty King, 
 Their soft sweet notes will ring, 
 Though all eternity. 
 
 We too would humbly bow, 
 Would kneel before Thy shrine ; 
 
46 THEN AND NOW. 
 
 Guard us, O God, always, 
 With mercy bless our days, 
 And let our prayers and praise 
 Be ever Thine. 
 
 And when the sands of time, 
 
 May count our hours no more, 
 Then onward as we glide 
 Over death's troubled tide, 
 Be Thou our tender guide 
 To Heaven's bright shore. 
 
 
 THEN AND NOW. 
 
 HE summer's sun is shining 
 On fields of precious grain; 
 And zephyrs faint and low, 
 Whisper softly as they go, 
 To the flowers, 
 In the bowers ; 
 And our hearts go back again, 
 To the years of long ago. 
 
 Go back, with quiet pleasure, 
 
 To quiet happy days; 
 When the fluttering pulse of life, 
 Brought no touch of angry strife; 
 
 Peaceful time, 
 
 Holy time, 
 
FAITH, HOPE AND CHARITY. 47 
 
 How we prize the sunny rays, 
 Once for us with joys so rife. 
 
 They are ours, although we're dreaming; 
 
 Though we feel that then and now. 
 May be joined, ah ! nevermore,. 
 Never on this earthly shore.. 
 For awhile, 
 We may smile, 
 And forget that visions go, 
 As they've often done before. 
 
 They must go, the sun is shining 
 
 On fields of precious grain ; 
 But the winds are sadly sighing 
 O'er the dead and o'er the dying; 
 Scenes of strife 
 Cloud our life, 
 And the summer brings us pain, 
 With the wounded's weary crying. 
 
 FAITH, HOPE AND CHARITY. 
 
 IAITH is like an echo, 
 Falling softly od our ears, 
 Gently leading us to holier thoughts 
 
 And banishing our fears ; 
 Weaving peace within our sinful hearts 
 And drying all our tears. 
 
48 YOUTH AND AGE. 
 
 Hope is like an angel, 
 "With healing on her wings; 
 
 For ever, in our darkest hours, 
 She consolation brings; 
 
 Melodious are the sounds that fall 
 From her harp's trembling strings. 
 
 And Charity's an angel too, 
 
 Half human, half divine, 
 With smiles for those who smile in joy, 
 
 And tears for those who pine : 
 If a guardian angel I might choose, 
 
 Charity should be mine. 
 
 YOUTH AND AGE. 
 
 ¥OUTH gaily passes on 
 Its happy way; 
 It gathers many blessings, 
 
 Day by day ; 
 And thinks that winter's storms 
 Are far away. 
 
 It woos the sunny rays, 
 
 Its morning brings ; 
 It loves the pleasant light 
 
 That round it springs; 
 
YOUTH AND AGE. 49 
 
 It pauses at life's door 
 And laughs and sings. 
 
 Then with a merry heart 
 
 And careless grace, 
 It gently glides along 
 
 And takes its place, 
 And gladly waits to run 
 
 The winner's race. 
 
 Old age has run that race, 
 
 And with dim eyes 
 It looks behind and sees 
 
 Youth's glowing skies, 
 And marks the many tints, 
 
 And smiles and sighs. 
 
 Smiles for itself; it knows 
 
 That in its breast 
 The troubled waves of pride 
 
 And passion rest; 
 Peace is its only guest, 
 
 And it is blessed. 
 
 Sighs for the weary days 
 
 That youth must run ; 
 Thinks of the summer's heat, 
 
 Of the noontide's sun ; 
 It knows that the heart will faint 
 
 Ere the race is run. 
 
50 THY KINGDOM COME. 
 
 I 
 
 THY KINGDOM COME. 
 N Thy vineyard, mighty Lord, 
 
 JL May Thy children faithful be; 
 Pare in spirit, pure in truth, 
 
 May they praise and worship Thee. 
 May the gospel's powerful light 
 
 Brightly shine o'er every nation, 
 And may earth's most distant climes, 
 
 Hear the tidings of salvation. 
 
 When Thy missionaries, Lord, 
 
 Sow the seed on barren ground, 
 When their hearts are faint and sad, 
 
 Lest no increase may be found, 
 May they ponder o'er the fact 
 
 That though earthly ties may sever, 
 All the souls they seek to save, 
 
 Will live on, and live forever. 
 
 May the desert places bloom, 
 
 Bloom and "blossom like the rose — ' 
 May Thy glorious "kingdom come," 
 
 May religion have no foes. 
 May Thy gracious spirit, Lord, 
 
 Softty breathe o'er every nation; 
 May the servants of Thy church, 
 
 Preach Thy love and free salvation. 
 
I 
 
 CHILDREN AT PLAY. 51 
 
 CHILDREN AT PLAY. 
 WATCH the little children 
 
 , 'Neath my window every day; 
 I hear their merry laughter, 
 
 As joyously they play. 
 
 see the light breeze lifting 
 
 Their locks of shining hair; 
 And think of all things lovely, 
 
 They are fairest of the fair. 
 There is the sweetest music 
 
 In their lightly falling feet ; 
 For bright and gay and happy, 
 
 Are the children in the street. 
 
 How softly eyes are flashing, 
 
 Of brown, and black, and blue; 
 If we should look into their depths, 
 
 We'd find them pure and true. 
 Deceit within their trusting hearts 
 
 Has found no resting place; 
 And nought but innocence and joy 
 
 Is stamped on each fair face. 
 Days of holy, happy childhood — 
 
 Is aught on earth so sweet ? 
 God bless the gentle darlings, 
 
 The children in the street. 
 
52 HOW SHALL WE SING THE LORD S SONG, &C, 
 
 Grace, youth, and simple beauty, 
 
 Each heart must feel these charms, 
 The Saviour loved young children, 
 
 And took them in His arms. 
 The blessing that He gave them, 
 
 Rests still upon each brow ; 
 His watchful care and kindness 
 
 Is with these children now. 
 Still may their gentle, merry hearts, 
 
 For years as gayly beat ; 
 As they do this summer's evening, 
 
 Happy children in the street. 
 
 HOW SHALL WE SING THE LORD'S SONG 
 IN A STRANGE LAND? 
 
 One hundred and thirty seventh psalrn, fourth \ 
 TTOW can we sing the songs we love, 
 XX. When wandering far away 
 From homes and hearths of light and love, 
 
 Our weary footsteps stray? 
 Our harps hang on the willow trees, 
 
 And every quivering string 
 Seems echoing our mournful words, 
 
 We cannot, cannot sing. 
 
 We sadly watch the golden light 
 Fade in the glowing west; 
 
PEACE. 
 
 The evening shadows creep along, 
 But they bring for us no rest, 
 
 We see the stars— alas our star 
 Of hope has passed away ; 
 
 We cannot sing, our hearts are dead 
 To melody's sweet lay. 
 
 Our hearts are dead, but memory lives, 
 
 And in each troubled brain, 
 The hopes and thoughts of happier years 
 
 Are hopes and thoughts of pain. 
 Jerusalem, to thee we cry, 
 
 Our homes we ne'er forget; 
 We break our harp-strings with a strain 
 
 Of passionate regret. 
 
 53 
 
 PEACE. 
 
 THE warm spring sun shines brightly o'er our land, 
 And from their lowly beds 
 
 Sweet blossoms lift their heads; 
 
 The waving forest trees 
 
 AVoo the soft perfumed breeze, 
 And placid waves roll gently o'er our strand. 
 But thou— sweet peace, alas ! thou art not here, 
 
 The noisy din of battle and of strife 
 Has made thee spread thy wings in doubt and fear. 
 
 Come back and bless again our path of life; 
 
54 PARTING WORDS. 
 
 Soothe the poor widow's anxious, troubled hearty 
 
 Come, fold thy snowy wings, 
 
 And heal her sufferings, 
 And take the orphan's part. 
 Come, holy visitant, and smile once more, 
 Scatter thy precious gifts from shore to shore. 
 
 f 
 
 PARTING WORDS. 
 IS hard to say good-bye, John, 
 
 My son, why will you roam? 
 Why will you leave the shelter 
 
 Of our quiet cottage home? 
 Alas! my boy, the tempting world 
 
 Is a world of care and strife, 
 It will cast a shadow o'er you, 
 
 Which will darken all your life, 
 Bid ambition cease to haunt you, 
 
 Turn from its withering spoil : 
 You clasp my hand, you heed me not, 
 
 And only say — farewell. 
 
 You listen to no sound, John, 
 
 But the ringing voice of fame; 
 You wish to join the eager throng, 
 
 To win an honored name. 
 You think not of the heavy toil, 
 
 Of the thorns upon your way, 
 Of the hopes so fondly cherished. 
 
 Of their blight and their decay. 
 
LIFE IS WHAT WE MAKE IT. 
 
 On the shining wreath you fain would win, 
 The light of joy ne'er fell : 
 
 You clasp my hand, you heed me not, 
 And only say— farewell. 
 
 Farewell— then be it so, John, 
 
 But when you're far away, 
 When your path is clouded over, 
 
 When trusted friends betray, 
 When the world's falsehood and deceit, 
 
 You turn from with a sigh, 
 Oh! then remember my pure love 
 
 Will never change or die. 
 Turn your wandering footsteps homewards, 
 
 Come to those who love you well : 
 You clasp my hand and heed me now, 
 
 My darling child— farewell. 
 
 55 
 
 LIFE IS WHAT WE MAKE IT. 
 
 TT may not be our lot to live 
 
 J In luxury's gay halls of pleasure; 
 
 It may not be our lot to find 
 
 In secret mines a hidden treasure; 
 Perchance the path that we must tread, 
 
 Is not our choice— fate bids us take it ; 
 Ah ! well we'll bow to fate, for still 
 
 Our life is what we choose to make it. 
 
56 DEATH. 
 
 The craven heart's subdued by doubt, 
 
 It wastes itself in vain repining; 
 It watches for the cloud of care, 
 
 Although the sun is brightly shining. 
 But the cheerful, brave, and trusting soul 
 
 Feels that grief's tempest cannot shake it; 
 Though weary oft, it soars aloft 
 
 And knows that life is what it makes it. 
 
 We may not always glide along, 
 
 With songs of joy and notes of gladness ; 
 The happiest traveller on the way, 
 
 Must feel sometimes the touch of sadness. 
 Stern duty offers us her aid, 
 
 Puts out her staff, ah ! let us take it; 
 Her path is always well defined, 
 
 And life is what we choose to make it. 
 
 DEATH. 
 
 THOU art a fearful thing, O death ! 
 Thou claimest all things living for thine own; 
 The friends we love, the beautiful, the gay, 
 
 Pass daily from our midst; affection's tone, 
 Its soft sweet cadence cannot move thy will. 
 
 Thou heedest not, though all around thee weep, 
 Thy victim feels thy touch, so cold and still, 
 It stops life's rolling tide, seals up in sleep 
 
'tis midnight. 57 
 
 The heavy eyes, bids the heart cease to throb, 
 The icy limbs to move, the brain to think. 
 
 Stern tyrant, bitter is thy brimming cup, 
 A cup from which we too must one day drink. 
 
 Mysterious, grim keeper of the tomb, 
 
 Thou'rt ever watchful, seeking for thy prey: 
 Thou stealest from in fancy's fair cheek the bloom, 
 
 Thou doomest the tender form to foul decay. 
 Thou comest unbidden to the halls of mirth' t 
 
 The bridegroom turns away, the bride is thine; 
 The fondly cherished wife, the aged sire, 
 
 Youth — manhood— all pay vows at thy dark shrine. 
 Monarch of time, thy heavy chains will break, 
 
 And from thy presence joyously we'll soar 
 To homes of light, where sin and sorrow cease; 
 
 There we shall meet our loved ones — meet to part 
 no more. 
 
 'TIS MIDNIGHT. 
 
 IS midnight; silence reigns around; 
 No sound disturbs the deep repose; 
 The stars like jewels deck the sky, 
 Sparkling so brightly, steadily, 
 While o'er the earth where shadows lie, 
 The moon a softened radiance throws. 
 
 'Tis midnight; many wrapped in slumber, 
 Are searching dreamland's magic store 
 
58 AX APPEAL FOE THE POOB. 
 
 Are travelling back through years of sorrow, 
 A visionary joy to borrow. 
 'Tis sad to think how soon to-morrow 
 Will call them back to care once more. 
 
 'Tis midnight; silence so profound 
 
 Would breathe of nought but peace and rest: 
 Yet his lone watches death is keeping, 
 And many eyes are red with weeping, 
 Some are dying, some are sleeping, 
 Some are sad, and some are blessed. 
 
 'Tis midnight — shine on, ye brilliant stars, 
 
 Softly, ye silent shadows, wave; 
 The light of the moonbeam's silvery ray, 
 On the poor man's cot will gently play. 
 Will fall on many a palace gray, 
 
 And on many a lonely, moss-grown grave. 
 
 AN APPEAL FOR THE POOR. 
 
 #H! ye, on whom capricious fortune 
 Has freely poured her glittering store- 
 When happy in its rich possession, 
 Think then with pity of the poor. 
 Think of your own unclouded childhood, 
 
 By its sacred hopes and fears, 
 Bend from your high and noble station, 
 And gently wipe misfortune's tears. 
 
A GRATEFUL HEART. 59 
 
 Remember to your charge is given 
 
 Much of earthly power and gold; 
 Freely give when the poor and weary 
 
 Their history of want unfold. 
 By Him whose sacred steps you follow, 
 
 Through whom you hope to win a crown,, 
 Heal the wounds of the broken-hearted, 
 
 Break the chains that hold them down. 
 
 At eve, when clustered round your fireside,. 
 
 You see your children play in glee, 
 Think of the widow's bleak apartment, 
 
 And the orphan's cry of misery. 
 How small a portion of your riches 
 
 Would banish sorrow from their hearth ; 
 Think of the great reward in heaven 
 
 For deeds of mercy done on earth. 
 
 A GRATEFUL HEART. 
 
 §IVB me a grateful heart, my God, 
 And let my humble lays, 
 Like morning incense, rise to Thee 
 In songs of praise. 
 
 Thou art my Father, Friend and Guide, 
 
 In Thee I hope and trust ; 
 For Thou art loving, true and kind 
 
 And pure and just. 
 
60 FLOWERS. 
 
 Thou crownest my path of life with joy, 
 
 Thy mercies never cease ; 
 My wandering heart has found in Thee 
 
 Its rest and peace. 
 
 Father, look down and guide Thy child 
 
 Along the narrow way; 
 Let me with faith's clear eyes, behold 
 
 The endless day. 
 
 And as I journey on through life, 
 Still grant me, God, my King, 
 
 A heart to worship, and a voice 
 Thy praise to sing. 
 
 FLOWERS. 
 
 §WEET flowers, I love ye well! 
 Emblems of life's ever changeful way 
 Beauteous ye bloom, then sink into decay; 
 Yet does your presence like a ^sunbeam stray 
 Across my path, and the soft, fleeting ray 
 Enthrals me in its spell. 
 
 I'll weave a garland bright; 
 Hoses and spotless lilies shall be twined, 
 Perfume and rare purity combined ; 
 The modest purple violet too, I'll find, 
 Lowly as- if to its own merits blind, 
 
 Shunning the noontide's light. 
 
THE SHIPWRECK. 61 
 
 Now in my wreath so fair, 
 The jessamine's clustering blossoms claim a place,. 
 Blue-eyed forget-me-nots, with quiet grace, 
 Must enter in, and now a larger space 
 For the camelia, queen of the floral race. 
 
 Alas ! the wind sweeps wildly by, the stems are bare. 
 
 THE SHIPWRECK. 
 
 MTERRILY over the dark blue wave 
 
 4JA» The ship flew on, like a bird of the sea; 
 
 The crew ne'er thought of a watery grave, 
 
 As they shouted and laughed in careless glee; 
 Homeward bound was the joyful sound, 
 
 And all was mirth and jollity. 
 
 Light feet kept time in the graceful dance, 
 
 'Neath the jewelled sky of a summers night; 
 Smooth like glass, seemed the broad expanse, 
 
 As it softly gleamed in the moon's bright light: 
 Homeward bound, was "the joyful sound, 
 
 A sound that made every eye look bright- 
 Fair children at will roamed the snowy deck, 
 
 The breeze scarce lifting their silken hair. 
 "A wreck!" said a maiden, "who fears a wreck 
 
 In a scene of beauty so calm and rare ? " 
 Homeward bound was the joyful sound, 
 
 That floated away on the midnight air. 
 
b2 THE SHIPWRECK. 
 
 Then a storm came, wrapping the sky in gloom, 
 The ship awaited the tempest's blast; 
 
 The ocean heaved like a yawning tomb, 
 Huge waves rose high, as the hurricane passed. 
 
 Homeward bound was no more the sound, 
 Each hope was with terror overcast. 
 
 "We sink! we sink," was the deafening cry, 
 As the waves lashed around in fury wild, 
 
 Each mother prayed to her God on high, 
 
 Then clasped in her arms her wondering child; 
 
 Homeward bound was no more the sound, 
 With fear was the stoutest heart beguiled. 
 
 The bridegroom gazed on his beautiful bride, 
 As she looked in his eyes for hope in vain; 
 
 She knew they must rest 'neath the surging tide, 
 She knew they would never see home again. 
 
 Homeward bound was no more the sound, 
 It was changed for a cry of horror and pain. 
 
 Was it the voice of the howling gale, 
 That unearthly shriek that rose so high? 
 
 What was that wild despairing wail? 
 Alas ! 'twas the cry of agony. 
 
 Homeward bound was no more the sound, 
 Their home was found in eternity. 
 
CUT IT DOWN: WHY CUMBERETH, &C. 63 
 
 CUT IT DOWN: WHY CUMBERETH IT THE 
 GROUND? 
 
 Thirteenth Chapter of St Luke, part of seventh verse. 
 
 WHY cut it down ? Leave it another year; 
 Its branches only droop, they are not dying; 
 It is not old— blossoms it yet may bear, 
 
 And summer's winds may o'er its leaves be sighing. 
 The stately tree may yet bend towards the ground, 
 And on its branches, fruit may yet be found. 
 
 The world's keen icy breath has touched its boughs, 
 And fashion's votaries have danced around it; 
 
 And haughty pride's cold glittering wintry snows, 
 With chilling icy chains, have tightly bound it. 
 
 The tree is straight and strong, it yet may bear, 
 
 Cut it not down— leave it another year. 
 
 The genial sunshine and the summer's rain 
 
 May cause its sap to clothe with healthy beauty 
 
 The poor bent twigs— and in their welcome shade, 
 Bright birds may smg their songs of praise and 
 duty. 
 
 Cut it not down— try it another year ; 
 
 Leave it awhile— it yet perchance may bear. 
 
 " Leave it another year!" These solemn words 
 Must bring to many hearts a solemn token; 
 
64 THE SAILOR BOY'S GRAVE. 
 
 The tree was but a type of human life, 
 And for each human heart the words were spoken , 
 
 My God, Thy servants we profess to be, 
 Lead us and guide us in the path of duty ; 
 
 Though once unfruitful, like the barren tree, 
 
 We yet may bring Thee works of love and beauty. 
 
 f 
 
 THE SAILOR BOY'S GRAVE. 
 
 WAS a dark and gloomy night, no glimmering 
 
 star 
 tOs 
 
 Came forth to cheer us with its twinkling light; 
 And motionless lay every sail and spar, 
 
 As if on each had fallen a chilling blight, 
 As if they felt that death with cold damp hand 
 
 Had rudely touched the fair and shrinking form 
 Of him, the well beloved, far from his own dear land, 
 
 That never more he'd brave the ocean's storm, 
 That pale, uncofnned, to the yielding flood 
 His body must be given — his soul had gone to God. 
 
 Sadly they brought him forth, his golden hair 
 In heavy masses fell on cheek and brow, 
 
 'Twas hard to think that one so good and fair 
 Should 'neath the waste of waters lie so low. 
 
 'Twas hard to think, a gentle loving hand 
 
 Might ne'er throw blossoms o'er his lonely grave, 
 
THE MEMORY OF HOME. 
 
 65 
 
 No mourners round bis lowly bed might stand, 
 
 But o'er him must tbe murmuring ocean wave 
 Roll gaily on, with music wild and free, 
 Singing bis requiem— gentle may it be. 
 
 The long calm silence in tbe vessel's bow 
 
 Was broken by heavy sobs, by sighs and groans; 
 We gazed once more upon the peaceful brow, 
 
 On the lips, now sealed in death their loving tones. 
 Leave him awhile, we said, we cannot bear 
 
 To see those glistening waves above him dash ; 
 But all unheeded was the earnest prayer, 
 
 And from the vessel's side, a dull, deep plash 
 Fell on our ears— we heard the tolling bell 
 Count out, in mournful tones, a funeral knell. 
 
 THE MEMORY OF HOME. 
 
 E may pass our time in gladness,. 
 ,-Jf" Free from every touch of sadness, 
 We may join in many pleasures, 
 
 As in foreign lands we roam ; 
 We may meet with friends true-hearted, 
 True as those from whom we parted, 
 Yet we cherish still the memory, 
 Of our fireside at home. 
 
 We may pass o'er lofty mountains, 
 Gaze on lakes, and sparkling fountains, 
 
66 TIME. 
 
 Or list in dreamy silence 
 To the ocean's mighty moan ; 
 
 Each beauty, bright and cheering. 
 
 With an influence endearing, 
 
 Only stronger makes the memory 
 Of our fireside at home. 
 
 Happy faces, too, may meet us, 
 Open-hearted welcomes greet us, 
 And music with its melody, 
 
 Its soft and thrilling tone, 
 May on our ears be falling, 
 Long fogotten scenes recalling, 
 But the memory's ever present 
 
 Of our fireside at home. 
 
 TIME. 
 
 §WIFTLY rolls time's surging tide, 
 Bearing on its troubled breast 
 Nought of peace and nought of rest. 
 Hopes and fears and griefs and joys, 
 Glittering treasures, trifling toys; 
 All the bitterness of life, 
 Hatred, care, and toil, and strife; 
 On its treacherous bosom glide, 
 'Neath its murmuring waters hide. 
 
 Listen to the whistling wind, 
 Heavy storms sweep o'er it now, 
 
THE SOWER'S SONG. ,)? 
 
 And chill ah ! many a weary brow ; 
 
 I iight comes down in fitful gleams, 
 
 Earthly struggles, earthly dreams, 
 
 Lure poor wanderers away, 
 
 From each peaceful, holy ray, 
 
 Ignorant and weak and blind, 
 
 They seek the good they cannot rind. 
 
 Onward still, with solemn roar, 
 
 Must the turbulent waters flow, 
 
 Must the dreamers with them go. 
 
 But an awful day draws nigh, 
 
 "When this mighty power will die. 
 
 The angel of the Lord will stand, 
 
 Upon the banks of shifting sand; 
 
 And ringing loud, from shore to shore, 
 
 Will come the sentence, " Time shall be no more." 
 
 i » 
 
 THE SOWER'S SONG. 
 
 Tt SCATTERED seed— 'twas pure and fine, 
 I, And then I laid me down and slept, 
 And waited for the sun to shine. 
 
 My field was like a garden kept, 
 'Twas joy to me to call it mine. 
 
 And when the gently falling rain 
 Game down upon the thirsty earth, 
 
 I watched it pass my window pane, 
 And laughed— my heart was filled with mirth, 
 
 With ne'er a passing thought of pain. 
 
68 SAILING OER THE SEA. 
 
 And so I waited till the ground 
 Began to open here and there ; 
 
 The green and shining blades I found 
 "Were beautiful — they seemed so rare, 
 
 I thought that wheat would soon abound. 
 
 Thus watching, waiting, day by day, 
 The time passed ou, until one morn 
 
 I saw a mass of wild weeds sway, 
 My field was of its glory shorn, 
 
 Its loveliness had passed away. 
 
 "An enemy?" — well, God knows best, 
 The seed was sown with good intent ; 
 
 The trouble in the sower's breast 
 Is not regret for time well spent, 
 
 " He giveth His beloved rest." 
 
 There may be found some ripened grain, 
 Some scattered group of noble sheave.-. 
 
 Some compensation for the pain, 
 Some flowers beneath the withered leaves 
 
 And loss may be eternal gain. 
 
 SAILING O'ER THE SEA. 
 
 fIS not all pleasant sailing 
 O'er the restless sea of life ; 
 There are merry songs of gladness, 
 There are also sounds of strife. 
 
THE TET OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 69 
 
 As e ich barque is bounding forward, 
 
 Against, or with the tide, 
 So the waters softly murmur, 
 
 Or come dashing o'er its side; 
 And many a noble vessel, 
 
 When near the glittering shore, 
 Goes down beneath the breakers, 
 
 And is heard of— nevermore. 
 
 'Tis not all pleasant sailing, 
 
 Heavy storms will often rise, 
 And the sun's bright rays be hidden 
 
 By dark and angry skies. 
 Weary mariners, oft looking 
 
 Through the clouds of mist and spray, 
 Wish for brighter, clearer weather, 
 
 For a smoother voyage pray. 
 When at last the toil is over, 
 
 And they reach the promised shore, 
 Then comes rest and quiet waters, 
 
 Joy and peace— forevermore. 
 
 THE PET OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 ntXTS bright blue eyes are closed 
 
 jy| In dreamless sleep; 
 
 Oh ! mourners, grieve no more, 
 
 Why should ye weep ? 
 Fold his soft waxen hands 
 
 Across his breast, 
 
MY XATTYE LAND. 
 
 Earth's trials ne'er may break 
 His solemn rest. 
 
 His little barque has reached 
 
 A happier land, 
 And stormy waves ne'er touch 
 
 Its peaceful strand. 
 He'll sing the angels' hymns, 
 
 And songs of joy; 
 He'll watch and wait for us, 
 
 Our baby boy. 
 
 The sorrow of this life 
 
 He feels not now; 
 Its shadows may not fall 
 
 Upon his brow. 
 We will not wish him here, 
 
 With us to roam ; 
 Oh ! mourners, grieve no more, 
 
 Our boy's gone home. 
 
 
 MY NATIVE LAND. 
 L/jjtY native land, my native land, 
 
 I dreamed of thee; 
 I stood once more upon thy strand, 
 
 Happy and free. 
 I gathered shells upon thy shore, 
 
 And watched thy tide — 
 Come rolling gently to my feet once more, 
 
AUTUMN LEAVES. 71 
 
 Throwing far and wide, 
 Its gems, my joy and pride. 
 
 Thy winds played softly with my hair, 
 
 And I forgot 
 That years had passed since I stood there 
 
 Upon that spot, 
 I was a trusting child again, 
 
 (Why did I roam ?) 
 I listened to thy thrilling strain, 
 
 Sweet song of home ; 
 
 Blending thy mnsic with the ocean's foam. 
 
 I may not watch thy white cliffs shine, 
 
 Above the sea ; 
 Only a vision of the night was mine, 
 
 I dreamed of thee. 
 Yet it was sweet, for a few fleeting hours, 
 
 To be once more 
 A happy child, playing within thy bowers, 
 
 Upon thy shore ; 
 
 Thinking that joy was mine, forevermore. 
 
 f 
 
 AUTUMN LEAVES. 
 HE leaves are fallina; to the ground, 
 
 And with a sad and solemn sound, 
 The wind is sighing; 
 Low nodding branches seem to say, 
 
72 OL'R OFFERING. 
 
 "Behold how beauty must decay, 
 For we are dying. 
 
 "The summer's sun, the summer's shower-. 
 Alas ! can never more be ours, 
 
 We fade — we perish ; 
 Xo friendly hand to us is sent, 
 But fluttering 'neath the leaves we're bent,. 
 
 That we would cherish." 
 
 Unquiet, murmuring trees, be still, 
 'Tis the Creator's sovereign will 
 
 That light and showers 
 Should gild the pretty autumn leaves. 
 And gather into golden sheaves 
 
 The buds and flowers. 
 
 The skies will oft be overcast, 
 But when the winter time is past, 
 
 Spring will awaken, 
 And clothe the woods with beauty rarey 
 The branches, now so bleak and bare, 
 
 So wildly shaken. 
 
 OUR OFFERING. 
 
 JY Grod, the subtle mystery, 
 
 The depth of deep iniquity^ 
 The human heart, 
 Throbs often slowly, painfully, 
 
OUR OFFERING. 
 
 Thau-only Thou canst make it free ; 
 Bid sin depart. 
 
 <Tis a sealed book to mortal eyes, 
 But ah! all powerful, true and wise, 
 
 And pure and just, 
 It, folded leaves must turn for Thee, 
 Soiled, spotted, darkened though they be, 
 
 With stain and rust. 
 
 Thou knowest what a quest is ours, 
 
 Thou knowest how poisoned are lite s ikmei. 
 
 We shrink away, 
 We pause-we dare not look within, 
 Each secret fault, each hidden sin. 
 
 Help us, we pray. 
 
 \ heavy load we pilgrims bear, 
 
 Of anxious thoughts, of toil and care; 
 
 We mourn the loss 
 ( >f many an idol made of clay: 
 Ah,,! we have not strength to say, 
 
 We'll bear our cross. 
 
 To Thee— omnipotent to save— 
 
 We pray-a boon from Thee we crave, 
 
 Our hearts wc bring; 
 Disclose their deep, dark mystery, 
 And cleanse from all iniquity, 
 
 Our offering. 
 
 73 
 
summer. 
 
 SUMMER. 
 
 TUNE'S blushing buds and blooming roses 
 
 ffj, Weave their spell, 
 
 And pretty wild flowers sweetly blossom, 
 
 In wood and dell. 
 The summer's wind is softly sighing 
 
 Its gentle lays; 
 And song birds gaily tune their voices, 
 
 In notes of praise. 
 
 The gentle charm of summer lingers, 
 
 On mount and plain; 
 The rippling brooks and streamlets murmur 
 
 Their low refrain. 
 The perfumed clover waves its flowers 
 
 In the breeze ; 
 And music floats amongst the forest's 
 
 Leafy trees. 
 
 And yet, with all its winning beauty, 
 
 It brings no more 
 The brightness of the days that vanished, 
 
 The days of yore. 
 Sad, anxious hearts turn from its glory, 
 
 With thoughts of pain ; 
 The summer's sun gilds all too brightly 
 
 The battle plain. 
 
THE SAILOR BOY 8 SONG OF THE SEA. 
 
 Eyes have grown dim that once were shining 
 
 With joy's pure light; 
 Hopes that once beamed upon life's pathway. 
 
 Have set in night. 
 Ye bring, bright summer, with your beaut)*, 
 
 Sorrow and care ; 
 Ye cannot bring us back our treasures, 
 
 The brave, the fair. 
 
 THE SAILOR BOY'S SONG OF THE SEA. 
 
 WEET are the songs of the woodland birds, 
 K^ And their notes of joy and praise 
 Softly ascend from morn till eve, 
 
 All the long bright summer days. 
 The butterflies spread their gauzy wings, 
 
 And peacefully hums the bee ; 
 But my heart is sad, for I cannot hear 
 
 The voice of the murmuring sea. 
 
 There is joy in the tossing, restless tide, 
 
 Here peace to my heart no more 
 Brings its soft dreams of hope pnd love, 
 
 As it did in the days of yore. 
 
 1 watch the flowers by our cottage home, 
 But their beauty is nought to me ; 
 
 For I listen and pine, from day to day, 
 For the voice of the murmuring sea. 
 
76 THE HOUSE UPON THE SAND. 
 
 " Good-bye" — the ocean must be my home, 
 
 I love the raging deep; 
 Its restless waves must bear me on, 
 
 Must rock and sing me to sleep. 
 The friends who cluster around our hearth 
 
 Will ever be dear to me ; 
 But a voice is calling me far away, 
 
 The voice of the murmuring sea. 
 
 THE HOUSE UPON THE SAND. 
 
 §TRONG was the stately castle, 
 Its walls were firm and high ; 
 And joy dwelt there, witli merry health, 
 At the festive board presided wealth, 
 
 And sorrow passed it by: 
 No sounds disturbed the songs of mirth, 
 But the sea bird's wailing cry. 
 
 Fair was the prospect to behold, 
 
 From its noble lofty towers ; 
 At its base, was the glittering golden beach, 
 Beyond, as far as the eye could reach, 
 
 Fell the sea spray's gentle showers, 
 And the summer's balmy breath was stirred 
 
 With the fragrance of its flowers. 
 
 Not far from this gorgeous dwelling, 
 A solitary rock 
 
THE HOUSE UPON THE SAND. 77 
 
 liaised its rugged sides above the sea. 
 When the waves dashed round it stormily, 
 
 'Twas unharmed by their rude shock; 
 And the lord of the castle sometimes wished 
 
 He had builded upon that rock. 
 
 Yet strong enough are these towers, he mused, 
 
 They have stood for many a day ; 
 Hope and plenty and joy are mine, 
 Beauty and wealth bow at my shrine ; 
 
 Then why should trouble stray 
 Across a path so bright and fair? 
 
 I will banish the thought away. 
 
 A sound was heard in the dead of night, 
 
 'Twas the tempest's angry roar; 
 And the waves beat wildly against the walls, 
 Confusion reigned in the splendid halls 
 
 Of that house on the sandy shore ; 
 It was swept away by the rushing waves, 
 
 And its treasures were seen no more. 
 
 When the sun again, from a cloudless sky, 
 Shed his beams upon beach and sea, 
 
 The rock, with its rugged sides so bare, 
 
 Was still in its strength and safety there, 
 And the waters sung merrily; 
 
 But the place was vacant where once there stood 
 The palace so fair to see. 
 
78 
 
 No trace was "left of the columns rare, 
 Which supported the ancient home ;. 
 
 Its inmates — hope and joy and pride, 
 
 Slept well beneath the rolling tide, 
 While the ocean's mighty moan 
 
 Sighed o'er them a mournful requiem, 
 In a sad and solemn tone. 
 
 PRAYER. 
 
 (O God, our Father, when our path is dark, 
 We humbly pray ; 
 And quick to hear, He sends us rays of light, 
 From day to day. 
 
 When faith is Aveak, and hope is like a star 
 
 In sorrow's night, 
 So brightly shining, but so far from us 
 
 Its steady light — 
 
 When wearily along life's troubled way, 
 
 Our footsteps tread, 
 When bending o'er the marble tombs which guard 
 
 Our treasured dead — 
 
 The sigh, the wish, the softly uttered prayer 
 
 Ascend on high ; 
 The answer comes in solemn truth, "the soul 
 
 Can never die." 
 
spring's invitation. 
 
 Oar Fattier listens to the trembling tones, 
 
 The words of care; 
 He gently guides us, and His gracious love 
 
 Is everywhere. 
 'Tia with us when our thoughts are crowned with joy, 
 
 With visions bright ; 
 'Tis with us through the long and lonely watches 
 
 Of the night, 
 Our God, most merciful and good and land, 
 
 Holy and just, 
 Our hearts we give to Thee, to Thee we pray, 
 In Thee we trust. 
 
 SPRING'S INVITATION. 
 
 APPY children, come and play, 
 'Tis the spring-time of the year; 
 Winter's storms have passed away, 
 And the sky is bright and clear ; 
 Buds are opening on the trees, 
 Pure and gentle is the breeze. 
 
 Sunshine gilds the pleasant hills, 
 With its rosy rays of light ; 
 
 And the winding, sparkling rills 
 Glide along to rivers bright, 
 
 Lovely blossoms raise their heads 
 
 From their cool and grassy beds. 
 
 s& 
 
80 LILIES. 
 
 The birds with merry lays, 
 
 Sing their welcome to the spring; 
 
 With voices tuned to praise, 
 Sweetest harmony they bring ; 
 
 Gladness rules with joyous sway, 
 
 Happy children, come and play. 
 
 LILIES. 
 
 fHE pretty bells droop gently down, 
 Tipped with the morning clew; 
 How beautiful they are in form, 
 
 How fair they are to view. 
 The shining leaves, the perfumed flowers, 
 
 Adorn the passing day; 
 They live their innocent sweet lives, 
 Then softly pass away. 
 
 Our Father caused these flowers to grow, 
 
 So pure, so rare and bright ; 
 These graceful lilies of the field, 
 
 Are pleasing in His sight. 
 Emblems of purity and peace, 
 
 They rise above the sod ; 
 We hail their Maker as our King, 
 
 And love Him as our God. 
 
PROMOTED. 81 
 
 PROMOTED, 
 
 fHEY told her that her son had won 
 Bright laurels on the field; 
 That ever, where his sword was raised, 
 
 The foe was seen to yield. 
 And the widow's lonely heart throbbed fast, 
 
 Throbbed fast with grateful joy; 
 "Ye bring me news indeed," she said; 
 "Where is my darling boy?" 
 
 They told her that he wore no more 
 
 The humble, homespun grey, 
 The simple dress of the volunteer, 
 
 In which he went away. 
 Epaulettes were his, and his uniform 
 
 Was gold, and royal blue ; 
 "Where is my child?" the widow said, 
 
 "I know he's good and true." 
 
 She looked around with an anxious gaze, 
 
 And her slowly falling tears 
 Told that her hopes were dying out, 
 
 That her heart was tilled with fears. 
 "I thank you for the news," she said, 
 
 "Your words are kind and fair; 
 My child is brave — but he is not here — 
 
 Where is he? tell me where?" 
 
 F 
 
82 IF WE CAN SEE. 
 
 They told her when the whistling shot 
 
 Fell around like heavy rain; 
 That many a comrade fell to the ground, 
 
 Never to rise again. 
 And that he— her son — her only one, 
 
 Was hurt but his wounds were slight — 
 "Tell me no more," she faintly said, 
 
 "Only where is my child this night?" 
 
 They could not tell, they could not see 
 
 The distant battle plain ; 
 They knew not how many quiet hearts 
 
 Were resting from their pain. 
 An officer's gay bright uniform, 
 
 The blue and the shining gold, 
 Wrapped a form that was held in death's embrace, 
 
 The promoted — so firm, so bold. 
 
 IF WE CAN SEE. 
 
 jN all the winding ways of life, 
 Its disappointments, and its strife, 
 Happy are we, 
 If we can see, 
 Our Heavenly Father's guiding hand, 
 Leading us towards that better land, . 
 Eternity. 
 
 We faint not 'neath the noontide's sun, 
 Nor falter ere our race is run ; 
 
HOPE. 83 
 
 Faith's holy ray- 
 Shines on our way, 
 
 God's gifts are scattered far and wide, 
 
 And flowers spring up on every side 
 To bless our day. 
 
 How calmly we can watch and wait, 
 While crooked pathways are made straight ! 
 
 Our holy Friend 
 
 Will still attend 
 To all our cares, to all our fears, 
 Will lead us on through changeful years, 
 
 To life's bright end. 
 
 HOPE. 
 
 jfpTOPE still paints with fancy's ringers, 
 Jj-J While life's leaves we sadly hold, 
 Fairy pictures, lovely pictures, 
 
 Fitly framed in bands of gold, 
 And in tones of silvery sweetness, 
 
 Whispers in our willing ears 
 Tales of wondrous power and beauty, 
 
 Stories of the future years. 
 
 All her flowers are brilliant blossoms, 
 Sparkling with the morning's dew; 
 
 Every bud she brings before us, 
 Charms us with its rosy hue. 
 
84 IN SPIRIT AND IN TRUTH. 
 
 Thus our weary hearts beguiling, 
 Of their sorrow, of their pain; 
 
 Ever beautiful and smiling, 
 
 Can we say— she comes in vain? 
 
 If she paints but to deceive us, 
 
 With her colors pure and bright; 
 If she. gives us all the sunshine, 
 
 And forgets the shades of night; 
 Still we'll prize her sweet caressing, 
 
 Though her prophecies may fail ; 
 And forgive her, if her vision, 
 
 Falsely sees beyond the vail. 
 
 IN SPIRIT AND IN TRUTH. 
 
 TQ ENEATH the gospel's glorious light, 
 j|J Our feet still onward stray; 
 Towards the gates of endless life, 
 
 Of everlasting day. 
 But if accepted we would be, 
 
 When offerings we bring; 
 We must worship God in spirit, 
 
 In truth His praises sing. 
 
 It matters not how poor the words, 
 
 How simple is the lay, 
 If the heart is with the faltering lips, 
 
 Is with them when they pray. 
 
THE SHEPHERD'S WATCH. 85 
 
 God is holy, and when bowing 
 
 Before Him as our King; 
 We must worship Him in spirit, 
 
 In truth His praises sing. 
 
 f 
 
 THE SHEFHERD'S WATCH 
 HE lingering light of day 
 
 Had softly passed away, 
 And peace was resting on each hill and dale ; 
 
 Beneath the stars' pale light 
 
 The shepherds watched by night, 
 Guarding their flocks, all scattered in the vale — 
 
 When, with astonished eyes, 
 
 They saw beneath the skies, 
 An angel floating towards them — and the air 
 
 Rushed on with solemn sound, 
 
 Glory shone all around, 
 And voices strangely mingled joy with prayer. 
 
 " Fear not," the angel said — 
 
 And fear's dark shadow fled — 
 "I bring good tidings, wonderful and great; 
 
 In Bethlehem I say, 
 
 To you is born this day, 
 A Saviour— Christ the Lord ; He comes in lowly state." 
 
 A golden halo crowned 
 
 The shepherds' camping ground. 
 
86 WHAT IS TRUTH? 
 
 And far and wide streamed down, thousands of glitter- 
 ing rays, 
 And through the perfumed night, 
 A band of angels bright, 
 Bang, "Peace on earth, good will," and hymns of 
 praise. 
 
 When they had passed away, 
 
 Through gates of endless day, 
 And lost in silence was their glad refrain, 
 
 The wondering shepherds stood, 
 
 Gazing on hill and wood, 
 Then le(t their flocks, and hastened from the plain. 
 
 And soon upon them smiled, 
 
 The pure and holy child, 
 Helpless and lowly, in a manger lying; 
 
 They left their charge to find 
 
 The Saviour of mankind, 
 The Christian's friend in life, his hope when dying. 
 
 WHAT IS TRUTH? 
 
 fHERE was a time— sad, doubting heart, 
 There was a time in the dim past, 
 "When to the question, "What is truth?" 
 Thou, in the hope and strength of youth, 
 With every throb, couldst freely say, 
 
THE RACE OF LIFE. 
 
 87 
 
 *Tis faith's sweet echo— no decay, 
 No shadow e'er can cast a blight, 
 For with it comes a holy light, 
 That must and will forever last. 
 
 But now alas! that time has fled, 
 And thou, thyself- what has come o'er 
 The joyous glee that with each hour, 
 So sweetly charmed thee with its power? 
 The birds still sing their merry lay, 
 The sunlight bright' y gilds the day. 
 Why art thou sad? in ether spheres, 
 Where time is counted— not by years, 
 Truth will be with thee evermore. 
 
 THE RACE OF LIFE. 
 
 tlUN, run, ye swift, 
 jj And onward toil , ye slow ; 
 [f~the way is long, religion's light 
 Will the darkest, loneliest path make bngut 
 With its beautiful, golden glow. 
 
 Truth offers a helping hand, 
 
 And Error lurks in the way; 
 But Truth is strong— a tower it stands, 
 And Error is weak, like quivering sands 
 
 When the storm tides on them play. 
 
88 THE SABBATH DAY. 
 
 Hope whispers in your ears 
 
 Tales which never grow old; 
 And shining bright!}'' up on high 
 Is the star of Faith ; as the days go by, 
 
 Ye will prize it more than gold. 
 
 Then gladly run, ye swift, 
 
 Look up, ye toilers slow; 
 Let the strong rejoice in their strength and might, 
 And the weary trust to the beacon light, 
 
 Which guides them as they go. 
 
 Press on ; if the path be rough 
 
 With stone, and rock, and sod, 
 Keep the mark in sight and the winner's prize 
 Will be yours forever beyond the skies, 
 
 In the mansions of your God. 
 
 THE SABBATH DAY. 
 
 Q WEET is the rest, the holy calm, 
 
 S^| Of this most holy day ; 
 
 The bells, with cheerful ringing tones, 
 
 Call sinners forth to pray. 
 The noisy din of active toil, 
 
 The sounds of strife or mirth, 
 Are silent now, and like a dreamy 
 
 Peace visits all the earth. 
 
THE SABBATH DAT. 8& 
 
 The wind is sighing soft and low 
 
 Amongst the quivering trees, 
 So soft and low, we scarcely hear 
 
 The music of the breeze. 
 The light seems brighter to our eyes, 
 
 As on each quiet street, 
 The church throws open wide her doors. 
 
 That Christian friends may meet. 
 
 And then, there falls upon our ears, 
 
 The story often told, 
 Of a Redeemer's precious blood, 
 
 More precious far than gold. 
 And hymns of sacred melody, 
 
 Like morning incense rise; 
 The offering of thankful hearts, 
 
 Their willing sacrifice. 
 
 Sweet clay cf rest, on every shore, 
 
 In every land and clime, 
 May thy pure joy and peace be found, 
 
 And heard thy solemn chime. 
 And when this world, with all its charms. 
 
 Is passing from our sight, 
 May Sabbaths still be ours in homes 
 
 Of never fading light. 
 
90 THE OLD ST. PETER' S, &C. 
 
 THE OLD St. PETER'S PROTESTANT 
 EPISCOPAL CHURCH, BALTIMORE. 
 
 WITHIN thy walls, beloved church, 
 The solemn voice of prayer 
 Has floated upward morn and eve ; 
 Hope, gratitude and care, 
 
 "With notes of joy, or tears of strife, 
 Have told their different tales of life. 
 
 And Christian eloquence has taught 
 
 How simple is the way; 
 The narrow, straight, and only pCith, 
 That leads to erdless day, 
 And how the gospel's holy light, 
 Will make the pilgrim's journey bright. 
 
 Beneath thy roof old age has bowed, 
 
 Childhood has smiled in glee; 
 ■Content has offered happy vows, 
 Repentance bent the knee. 
 Peace, stealing o'er the troubled heart, 
 Hath soi'tly bid its cares depart. 
 
 But now, alas! thy walls are bare, 
 
 The songs of love and praise 
 We may not hear, they will not bless 
 The swiftly coming days. 
 We listen to the mournful sound, 
 Men lay thee level with the ground. 
 
SOLITUDE AT SEA. WA 
 
 Instead of prayer, the hum of trade 
 
 Will rise— and not a trace, 
 
 Upon this consecrated ground, 
 
 Of thee, will find a place. 
 
 Farewell ! thy stones are falling fast- 
 Farewell ! I'll love thee to the last. 
 
 SOLITUDE AT SEA. 
 
 fHR water and the sky, 
 And not a sail insight; 
 The billows rise and fall, 
 The sunshine gilds them all, 
 With a fringe of rosy light. 
 
 The water and the sky, 
 The softly fading day; 
 The ripples gently rest 
 Upon the ocean's breast, 
 The wavelets cease to play. 
 
 The water and the sky, 
 
 The quiet holy night, 
 
 Peeping from cloudy bars 
 
 Are the brightly shining stars, 
 
 And the moon's pure changeful light. 
 
 The water and the sky, 
 The fleecy, fluttering haze, 
 
THE OLD YEAR. 
 
 The purple, gold and blue, 
 
 The tints of ever}* - hue, 
 
 Of morning's brilliant rays. 
 
 The water and the sky, 
 The fierce tempestuous roar, 
 The wild unquiet tone 
 Of ocean's mighty moan, 
 Crying from shore to shore. 
 
 The water and the sky 
 Are solitude to thee, 
 Poor sinking, restless heart, 
 Alas! how frail thou art, 
 On this vast rolling sea. 
 
 The water and the sky, 
 Know their Creator's will ; 
 And ocean's stormy roar 
 Is hushed from shore to shore, 
 When He says, " Peace, be still." 
 
 THE OLD YEAR. 
 
 f ARE WELL, old year, you are passing away, 
 Your journey's over, your tale is told; 
 The flowers that brightened your brief pathway, 
 Have vanished and left you the frost and cold.. 
 
THANKSGIVING. 93 
 
 Your staff bends down like a broken reed, 
 The wind's sad sigh is your funeral knell; 
 
 Old friend, what hand in your pressing need, 
 Can stop the swing of the tempest's bell. 
 
 Little you cared in your golden prime, 
 Trouble and grief might have their sway; 
 
 You had the light and the summer time, 
 
 Now it's cold and dark, and you're passing away. 
 
 Going to sleep with the years gone by, 
 We watch your course, as you glide along; 
 
 Sorrow looks up to see you die, 
 And mirth sends after you notes of song. 
 
 In peace, old year, go down to your rest, 
 Time's waves are breaking on life's dark shore, 
 
 Draw your misty mantle across your breast, 
 Let its folds fall over you evermore. 
 
 THANKSGIVING. 
 
 fO our great Abnighty King, 
 Hymns of praise we gladly sing; 
 Floating upwards towards the skies, 
 Let our songs like incense rise. 
 For the blessings of the year, 
 For the love forever near; 
 
94 THANKSGIVING. 
 
 Kneeling at His throne we bring 
 Grateful hearts — our offering. 
 
 For the light upon our way, 
 For the shadows of each day ; 
 For the fruit and blooming flowers, 
 For the softly falling showers ; 
 For the sunshine on the plain, 
 For the fields of golden grain ; 
 Kneeling at His throne we bring 
 Grateful hearts — our offering. 
 
 Plenty reigns from shore to shore, 
 Well we prize the priceless store ; 
 Peace is smiling on our land, 
 Welcomed by a happy band. 
 For our wants so well supplied, 
 For the friendship true, and tried, 
 Kneeling at His throne we bring 
 Grateful hearts — our offering. 
 
 God, the giver of our life, 
 Knows its griefs, its cares and strife, 
 For the comfort Faith has shed, 
 For the Hope which guards our dead- 
 Hope whose rays of heavenly light, 
 Shine through sorrow's darkest night- 
 Kneeling at His throne, we bring 
 Grateful hearts — our offering. 
 
VISIONS. ™ 
 
 VISIONS. 
 
 It SOFTLY touch the chords, 
 J The chords of memory, 
 x \nd from the shadowy past, 
 
 A vision comes of thee,. 
 
 My native land, of thee. 
 
 I stand upon thy shore 
 And look towards the sea ; 
 
 I love thy golden strand, 
 Thou art so dear to me, 
 My native land, to rne. 
 
 I watch the sunbeams play, 
 Again with careless glee : 
 
 I sing a joyous song, 
 
 A song in praise of thee, 
 My native land, of thee. 
 
 The hawthorne's lovely flowers 
 Are fair as they can be; 
 
 The daisies in thy fields 
 Are beautiful to see, 
 My native land, to see. 
 
 The sky-lark mounts and sings 
 
 His clear sweet melody ; 
 The blue forget-me-nots 
 
96 CHRISTMAS. 
 
 Are springing up for me, 
 My native land, forme. 
 
 Thy white rocks softly shine 
 Above the sounding sea; 
 
 Why dost thou fade away ? 
 Alas ! I'm far from thee, 
 My native land, from thee. 
 
 Farewell — where'er I roam, 
 While memory's left to me, 
 
 Still cherished in my heart, 
 Will be my love for thee, 
 My native land, for thee. 
 
 CHRISTMAS. 
 
 eOFTLY, brightly, golden sunlight, 
 Glide o'er mountain, hill, and dale, 
 Touch each leafy, snow-crowned summit, 
 
 Beautify each silent vale. 
 Lift, ye winds, the leafless branches, 
 
 While ye flutter from each glen; 
 Comes in sweet melodious accents, 
 "Peace on earth, good will towards men." 
 
 "Peace on earth," oh! wondrous story ! 
 
 Pilgrims, we have reached our goal; 
 Christ the Saviour bears our burdens, 
 
 And redeems each sinner's soul. 
 
life's sweet may. 
 
 Christians, raise your happy voices, 
 Mortals, gayly, gladly, sing; 
 
 Glorify your God in Heaven, 
 Greet the birthday of your King. 
 
 Pure, meek, beautiful, and holy, 
 
 From His throne He came to earth, 
 Unseen angels stood around Him, 
 
 Watching o'er His lowly birth. 
 Favored, proud, exulting nations, 
 
 Let your joyful voices ring; 
 "Peace on Earth"— oh! blessed tidings, 
 
 He gives peace— our God— our King. 
 
 LIFE'S SWEET MAY. 
 
 E tread the sunny paths of life, 
 
 Its flowers around us spring; 
 
 Our hearts are light, our homes are bright, 
 
 Glad voices sweetly sing. 
 We feel the charm of the golden light, 
 
 As it shines upon our way ; 
 And the hawthorne's blossoms, red and white, 
 Come out to welcome May. 
 
 In the perfumed air, each tiny bud 
 
 Is opening to the light; 
 Each leaf is quivering in the glade, 
 
 With its weight of dew-drops bright; 
 
 97 
 
 
98 LOVE OF COUNTRY. 
 
 The birds are softly trying their notes, 
 
 Trilling a merry lay ; 
 And a cloudless sky hangs over all — 
 
 The joyous month of May. 
 
 As we are slowly passing along, 
 
 "We feel, but cannot tell 
 The mighty power, the wondrous power,. 
 
 Which holds us in its spell. 
 The pebbles glitter in the brook, 
 
 We watch the silvery stream ; 
 And with its murmur comes the thought, 
 
 Life's May is like a dream. 
 
 Is like a dream, for well we know 
 
 The glorious light must fade ; 
 Though we love the warm bright sunshine, 
 
 Before us lies the shade. 
 And many a heavy sorrow 
 
 Will on our pathway stray, 
 When the flowers have drooped, the birds have fled. 
 
 And gone is life's sweet May. 
 
 LOVE OF COUNTRY. 
 
 fEAR to the wayworn traveller, 
 As he passes through foreign lands, 
 Are the moss-grown hills, the sunny slopes, 
 
 And the beach with its golden sands, 
 The song of the breeze, in the old oak trees, 
 The vale with its lovely flowers; 
 
THE NEW ST. PETER'S, &C. $9 
 
 And the shady glens, the winding rills, 
 The beautiful trellised bowers. 
 
 The clear blue skies of a warm, bright clime, 
 
 The mountains, eternal snows ; 
 The rippling waves of the cool pure lakes, 
 
 Their solemn deep repose. 
 The fields where history loved to write 
 
 Its deeds of great renown ; 
 And the homes of those who lived and died, 
 
 And won fame's wreath and crown. 
 
 All these he sees, yet in his heart, 
 
 Is a sacred, lonely cell, 
 Filled with holy love for a land, 
 
 Where his childhood used to dwell. 
 And mournfully his thoughts go back, 
 
 Wherever his footsteps roam, 
 To the gentle clasp of his mother's hand, 
 
 And the simple cot called home. 
 
 THE NEW St. PETER'S PROTESTANT 
 EPISCOPAL CHURCH, BALTIMORE. 
 
 LINES RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED TO THE REV. JULIUS 
 E. GRAMMER, D. D. 
 
 QTEADILY, steadily, day by day, 
 
 Q The workmen toil, and the work goes on. 
 
 The rain drops fall, the sunbeams play, 
 
lrtti the new st. peter's, &c. 
 
 And the shadows pass over, they may not stay, 
 For spring is with us, the winter's gone. 
 
 Through the cold dark hours, in the twilight gray, 
 
 The ring of spades, like the tick of a clock, 
 From early dawn, till the close of day, 
 Was heard, as they dug through sand and clay, 
 Till at last they struck on the solid rock. 
 
 And the new St. Peter's began to rise, 
 
 As if from the ashes of the old ; 
 The simple, beautiful church we prize, 
 With its steeple pointing towards the skies, 
 
 Soon will gather its children within its fold. 
 
 And its solemn chimes will softly ring, 
 Their music will gladden the sabbath day; 
 
 Innocent children will sweetly sing, 
 
 Age will its gifts in reverence bring, 
 And youth will its grateful homage pay. 
 
 In words of love the poor will hear 
 
 The gospel history truly told ; 
 The pure in heart will safely steer 
 Their fragile barque, and at last draw near 
 
 To the gates of pearl, and the streets of gold. 
 
 The workmen busily toil each day, 
 
 Shaping stone for stone, and block for block ; 
 On the pure white marble the sunbeams play, 
 And we, the watchers, hope and pray 
 For the church now building upon a rock. 
 
WORK WHILE IT IS DAY. 101 
 
 WORK WHILE IT IS DAY. 
 
 WORK while it is day, 
 Work with all thy might, 
 Soon life's fitful light, 
 Will pass away. 
 
 Like the great St. Paul, 
 
 Follower of the cross, 
 
 Count thy gains but loss, 
 Give thy all. 
 
 Why art thou looking back ? 
 
 Thy hand is on the plough, 
 
 Why art thou idling now 
 Upon life's track? 
 
 Sow the seed in trust, 
 'Twill grow, thou knowest not how, 
 The leaf, the flower, the bough, 
 
 When thou art dust. 
 
 Offer thy happy youth, 
 Offer thy prayers and praise, 
 Offer thy humble lays, 
 
 Thy love, thy truth. 
 
 The Saviour died for thee, 
 Thy greatest gifts are small, 
 Thy heart, thy life, thy all : 
 
 He made thee free. 
 
102 HE GIVETH PEACE. 
 
 A glorious sun will rise, 
 Which will not know a setting, 
 And thou, thy grave forgetting, 
 
 Wilt arise. 
 
 Then will thy trials cease, 
 Grief will not weigh thee down, 
 But thou wilt find a crown, 
 
 And endless peace. 
 
 HE GIVETH PEACE. 
 
 fHE followers of the heavenly King 
 May oft with sorrow be oppressed ; 
 May bow beneath griefs bitter sting, 
 And yet God's people still are blessed; 
 He gives them peace, He gives them rest. 
 
 His love gilds, with its radiant light, 
 The Christians' straight and narrow wayj 
 
 It shines upon their darkest night, 
 
 And though life's mists obscure its ray, 
 [t leads them on to perfect day. 
 
 On when the morning of their life 
 Is weaving threads of shining gold ; 
 
 And on, when bitter care and strife 
 ( 'rushes and falls with weight untold , 
 On till the weary heart grows old. 
 
GLAD TIDINGS. 103 
 
 On through the gloom of doubt and fear, 
 The Christian pilgrims still are blessed ; 
 
 They feel that God is ever near; 
 
 Though oft discouraged and distressed, 
 He gives them peace, He gives them rest, 
 
 GLAD TIDINGS. 
 
 e-PREAD the joyful, happy tidings 
 Over land and over sea ; 
 Tell the heathen that the Saviour 
 
 Has forever made them free. 
 Bid them turn from all their idols, 
 
 Bid them worship God alone ; 
 Tell them that the earth's His footstool, 
 And that Heaven is His throne. 
 
 Let them hear the word, salvation, 
 
 Ringing gaily in their ears ; 
 Let it rouse their sluggish natures, 
 
 Let it banish all their fears. 
 Bid them lift their tear-stained faces, 
 
 Bid them kneel upon the sod, 
 Bid them give their prayers, and praises, 
 
 To the everlasting God. 
 
 Tell them that the night is ending, 
 That for them a glorious day 
 
 Will arise ; that all their darkness 
 May forever pass away. 
 
104 XEW year's eve. 
 
 Teli them that the great Redeemer 
 
 Oame the lost to seek and save, 
 And that He will safely guide them 
 
 Through the mists which shroud the grave. 
 
 Tell them of that happy country, 
 
 Where all cares and sorrows cease ; 
 Tell them of the holy city, 
 
 Tell them of its rest and peace. 
 And through all the desert places, 
 
 Let the wondrous tidings ring; 
 God is merciful and mighty, 
 
 Their Saviour and their King. 
 
 NEW YEAR'S EVE. 
 
 fHE old year softly passes away, 
 Softly passe? with solemn tread; 
 The wintry sky is dull and gray, 
 And clouds hang over his lonely way, 
 The path that leads to the silent dead. 
 
 Many a hope has he trampled down 
 
 Under his feet, as he strode along ; 
 And many a life has felt his frown, 
 As proudly wearing youth's lovely crown, 
 
 He walked in his spring time hale and strong, 
 
 Joy has been with him, hand in hand, 
 And often he met with smiles, and tears ; 
 
APRIL. 105 
 
 Trouble and care, a sorrowful band, 
 Have followed him ever, from strand to strand. 
 And whispered tales in his careless ears. 
 
 And now he has come to his journey's end, 
 His form is bent and his locks are white ; 
 Our changeful thoughts we sadly blend 
 With keen regret for our dying friend, 
 As he floats away with the stormy night. 
 
 APRIL 
 
 fHOU art welcome, month of April, 
 We love thy pleasant hours ; 
 We love thy lights and shadows, 
 Thy sunshine and thy showers. 
 Thy cheerful touch is brightening, 
 
 A broad and wide domain ; 
 And hope and peace and gladness, 
 Come with thee once again. 
 
 Thou art welcome, month of April,. 
 
 The stately forest trees 
 Nod and murmur to each other, 
 
 As they catch the balmy breeze. 
 New life is softl}*- thrilling 
 
 In root and branch and bough,. 
 As they offer thee a garland, 
 
 Of leaves for thy young brow. 
 
1C6 PRAYERS AND TRAISE. 
 
 Thou art welcome, month of April, 
 
 Over all this pleasant land; 
 Wake up the sleeping meadows, 
 
 Smile on the glittering strand. 
 Let thy fleecy light clouds scatter, 
 
 Gentle rain upon our bowers ; 
 Then Mill swiftly rise to greet thee, 
 
 Blushing buds and blooming flowers. 
 
 PRAYERS AND PRAISE. 
 
 [0 the giver of all good, 
 
 He who guards us all our days, 
 We with reverent, lowly hearts, 
 Offer up our simple lays, 
 Our prayers, our praise. 
 
 He who guides our wandering steps, 
 
 Over life's unequal way, 
 He who knows each troubled thought, 
 
 He who sees each shadow gray, 
 
 Will be our stay. 
 
 When we're faltering in the race, 
 
 Which the strong and swift, may win, 
 
 Then, ah ! then we trust His grace — 
 On our pathway, doubt and sin 
 Come not in. 
 
 He still deigns to be a friend, 
 When our friends are false or few; 
 
WE PASS ALONG. 107 
 
 Tenderly supplies our wants, 
 
 Though those wants are ever new, 
 He still is true. 
 
 So we come with prayers and praise, 
 
 To our Father, to our King, 
 Bending low with loving hearts, 
 
 We our earnest offering 
 
 Humbly bring. 
 
 Poor we know are our best gifts, 
 
 Yet accept them, Lord, we pray; 
 And increase our faith and give 
 
 Light to lead us on our way, 
 
 Day by day. 
 
 >♦*» 
 
 WE PASS ALONG. 
 
 §TILL day by day we pass along, 
 The busy path of lifej 
 And listen to its mingled sounds 
 
 Of joy, and grief and strife. 
 With selfish aims, and wilful hearts, 
 
 We tread the great highway; 
 And carelessly we claim the flowers, 
 Which bloom for us each day. 
 
 The clouds which float along our sky 
 
 Are sometimes edged with gold ; 
 And sometimes heavily they fall, 
 
 Tempestuous, dark and cold. 
 
108 IN MEMORY OF MY BROTHER JOHN. 
 
 And many happy dreams are ours, 
 Though shadows near us stray; 
 
 For hopes and fears and many cares 
 Go with us all the way. 
 
 EMILY ISABELLA. 
 
 fiURE and spotless as a lily, 
 Beautiful, serene and mild; 
 Fairest of earth's lovely blossoms, 
 
 Innocent, beloved child! 
 Thou hast heard the Saviour calling, 
 
 Calling lambs within his fold, 
 Where the waves of life forever 
 
 Softly fall on sands of gold. 
 Well we prized thee, pretty darling, 
 
 Better far than words can tell ; 
 Till we meet beyond death's river, 
 
 Dearest, loveliest, farewell. 
 
 N MEMORY OF MY BROTHER JOHN. 
 
 fHY gentle spirit, like a ray of light, 
 Passed suddenly to realms of endless day: 
 Grief may not touch thee with its chilling blight, 
 Nor noble trust betrayed, with shadows gray, 
 
 Darken thy way ; 
 For thou hast heard a voice, 
 Calling thee to rejoice, 
 
SUNSET AT SEA. 109 
 
 And in the mansions of the ever blessed, 
 To dwell in peace, and take thy holy rest. 
 
 w 
 
 SUNSET AT SEA. 
 
 l^HE waves have wildly tossed in deep commotion, 
 ^ And rough has been the broad expanse of ocean ; 
 But now the winds have softly passed away, 
 And bright, and beautiful, will close the day. 
 The rippling waters gently fall and rise, 
 Reflecting back the glory of the skies ; 
 The clouds have gathered in the glowing west, 
 Their purple forms, in robes of gold are dressed. 
 And bars of amber cunningly are twined, 
 With silver fringes deep and well defined. 
 The sun goes down, in calm tranquillity, 
 He sends his parting beams across the sea. 
 
 The lovely twilight comes, the color fades 
 From sea and sky; and gradually the shades 
 Of changeful hues, of fluttering tints of light, 
 Pass on before the slow approach of night. 
 Dark shadows settle on the glassy sea, 
 Slow zephyrs flit across it mournfully ; 
 The murmuring billows sink in quiet rest, 
 And o'er the water's still untroubled breast, 
 The stately vessel swiftly glides along, 
 The happy sailors sing their evening song ; 
 And darkness settles on the lonely deep, 
 And eyelids close in calm refreshing sleep. 
 
110 CONSOLATION. 
 
 SORROW AND JOY. 
 
 §ORROWFUL, for life has many cares, 
 And hope's fair blossoms often bloom and fade ;. 
 Together grow the shining wheat and tares, 
 And sunshine passes by, the gloomy shade. 
 
 Sorrowful, for disappointment comes, 
 Bringing the weight of keen regret and pain ; 
 
 And death's dark messenger invades our homes, 
 And breaks the tender links of friendship's chain. 
 
 Sorrowful, and yet rejoicing still, 
 
 To know our Saviour lights the rugged way; 
 He passed the valley, climbed the distant hill, 
 
 Earth's shadows fell around Him, dim and gray^ 
 
 Rejoicing still, for songs of praise will rise, 
 Joy will come forth glad harmony to bring ; 
 
 And faith's sweet strains ascending to the skies. 
 Shall bear love's grateful tribute to our king. 
 
 CONSOLATION, 
 
 I CLOUD is hanging o'er our way, 
 |fg| Our brave and good, have passed away, 
 
 To the dark tomb; 
 Joy's sunny light from us has fled, 
 
CONSOLATION. Ill 
 
 A lonely path we now must tread, 
 Oft wrapped in gloom. 
 
 Friends gather round us in our need, 
 But ah 1 one friend in thought and deed, 
 
 Where is he now? 
 His white hands folded on his breast, 
 "With quiet easelie takes his rest, 
 
 With placid brow. 
 
 His happy spirit, pure and free, 
 In passing to eternity, 
 
 Its peace has found ; 
 The waves upon life's changeful shore, 
 Will break his slumbers nevermore, 
 
 With solemn sound. 
 
 Roll on, dark ever restless sea, 
 Roll on, still in thy majesty; 
 
 'Tis sorrow's hour; 
 We're tempest-tossed in many a gale r 
 And many a drooping, broken sail, 
 
 Must feel thy power. 
 
 Beyond the sound of thy deep roar, 
 There is a brighter, better shore, 
 
 Where friends may meet; 
 The forms now banished from our sight, 
 Will greet us there in robes of light, 
 
 With accents sweet. 
 
112 SOLITUDE. 
 
 Watching with patience, we will wait, 
 Till entering through the pearly gate, 
 
 We look around ; 
 There joy unspeakable, we'll find 
 Our all — not any left behind, 
 
 Not lost — but found. 
 
 SOLITUDE. 
 
 WE need not go into the silent dales, 
 And quiet fields, to seek for peace and rest ; 
 The beating heart with every throb may count, 
 
 In measured strokes, against each fluttering breast, 
 Sweet thoughts of happiness, and calm content, 
 And holy gratitude, to make it blessed. 
 
 The active strife, the sounds of busy toil, 
 The traffic of the quickly passing day, 
 
 May come and go, like a tempestuous tide, 
 Now surging up, now rolling far away, 
 
 While the untroubled heart beats time and tune, 
 In solitude — and winter seems like May. 
 
 Thus can God's solemn peace, unmeasured joy, 
 To his believing, loving children bring; 
 
 Thus can life's rainbow hues, with colors bright, 
 Around our path, a sunny radiance fling; 
 
 And we, unconscious of the world's great storms, 
 Its angry crowd, may give our offering. 
 
A HEBREW FABLE. 113 
 
 A HEBREW FABLE. 
 
 WHEN buds are opening to the breeze, 
 When roses bloom in all their gl ory ; 
 A pleasant thing it is to read, 
 
 From ancient book, a mystic story ; 
 To feel the spell, and own the power, 
 That dwells in every perfumed flower. 
 
 There was a good and pious man, 
 (My story says) bowed down with care, 
 
 With many griefs — and as he mused, 
 While walking in his garden fair, 
 
 And looking at the bright green sod, 
 
 His heart was sad — he doubted God. 
 
 " And does He guide me still ? " he said, 
 "While foes are many, friends are few? 
 
 My life is barren, and its flowers 
 For me, have neither bloom, nor dew. 
 
 I mourn in weariness, and pain ; 
 
 Dead hopes can never live again." 
 
 Then spake the spirit of the rose, 
 
 ""Mortal, I animate this flower; 
 A cup of thanksgiving to God, 
 
 Its incense rises, hour by hour ; 
 Its thorns protect, they do not sting ; 
 They trouble not its offering. 
 
 H 
 
114 LORD, I BELIEVE. 
 
 11 Thou fearest enemies? poor man ! 
 
 Why shouldst thou dread their might and power 
 Come here, and wisdom's lesson take, 
 
 Of trust and faith, from this frail flower.'' 
 He heeded, and gave thanks again, 
 And from his path, went care and pain. 
 
 LORD, I BELIEVE. 
 
 ORD, I believe," the father cried, 
 "When bending o'er his stricken child 
 "Lord, I believe," ah! was there truth 
 In words thus said, in tones so wild? 
 His heart was heavy with its cares, 
 
 Bowed down in agony of grief; 
 He met a grave inquiring look, 
 And said, "help Thou mine unbelief." 
 
 "Lord, I believe!" the uttered sounds, 
 
 Were like the accents of despair ; 
 His thoughts were on his helpless child T 
 
 Beloved, and beautiful, and fair. 
 " All things are possible — believe," 
 
 The pitying sentence brought relief; 
 In deep humility he cried, 
 
 "Help Thou, O Lord! mine unbelief." 
 
 "Lord, I believe," — the cry, the prayer, 
 Of hope and doubt, of trust and fear; 
 
LET US CONSIDER. 115 
 
 Rang sharply on the quivering air ; 
 
 The Saviour came, the help was near; 
 "All things are possible." He felt 
 
 A holy sense of calm relief; 
 " Lord, I believe," he gently said, 
 
 "My God! help Thou mine unbelief." 
 
 LET US CONSIDER. 
 
 f WOULD be well to remember by many a token, 
 That truth may be hidden beneath a dark pall ; 
 Words may drop from the lips, and be very well 
 spoken, 
 May be heard, too, with pleasure, as fast as they 
 fall, 
 And yet may be false, as the smile that goes with 
 them, 
 While they slowly a treacherous story unfold; 
 Let us pause, and consider both sides of the question — 
 " One tale is good, till another is told." 
 
 Strength may triumph at will, while the weak and 
 defenceless, 
 Are bowed down in sorrow, unheeded alone ; 
 May be mischievous, sprightly, perchance may be 
 wicked, 
 While there's nothing attractive in grief's quiet 
 tone. 
 
116 THE VOICE OF THE SEA. 
 
 All ! let us beware how, believing, we listen 
 To all that dark malice may brightly unfold ; 
 
 The light that we see may be hiding the shadows — 
 "One tale is good till another is told." 
 
 Deceitful defiance will bask in the sunshine, 
 
 And falsehood's a mask that is easily worn ; 
 Like the deadly miasma, are words softly saying, 
 
 The garment of goodness is tattered and torn. 
 Let us pass on our way, let us calmly consider, 
 
 Perhaps innocence trembles and stands in the cold ; 
 Other words may be found to unravel a story — 
 
 " One tale is good till another is told." 
 
 THE VOICE OF THE SEA. 
 
 tASH, dash, with a solemn roar, 
 The waves are beating against the shore 
 And the restless, turbulent, tossing sea, 
 In tones of mysterious melody— 
 In notes of pleasure, in notes of pain, 
 With music's deepest and purest strain, 
 Touches the heart and the memory, 
 And sings its beautiful song to me. 
 
 'Tis a song of freedom, of power, and mirth, 
 Of faith in the God that rules the earth ; 
 The breakers scatter their foamy spray ; 
 In wonderful tones, they seem to say : 
 
BY THE RIVER. H? 
 
 "Canst thou doubt, oh! dreamer upon the land, 
 
 The Father that holds us in His hand? 
 
 Wilt thou fear the might, or doubt the care, 
 
 Of the God that ruleth everywhere? 
 
 "He guides us, waves of the raging sea, 
 
 He marks our bounds, and restrains our glee ; 
 
 If a sparrow drops, He sees it fall ; 
 
 He will hear thy voice, if thou wilt but call ; 
 
 He watches the swallows as they fly, 
 
 He will guard the souls that will never die." 
 
 Thus sings the surging, turbulent sea, 
 
 Its song of time, and eternity. 
 
 BY THE RIVER. 
 O ADLY, silently we're watching 
 
 By a river dark and wide , 
 As its rolling, surging waters, 
 
 Ever onward swiftly glide. 
 Rays of light, and flitting shadows, 
 
 Come and go, upon its shore ; 
 As we listen for the voices, 
 
 That may greet us never more ; 
 In the land beyond this river, 
 
 Our beloved are ever blessed, 
 " AVhere the wicked cease from troubling 
 
 And the weary are at rest." 
 On the rocky banks we stumble, 
 
 As we look, with heavy eyes, 
 
118 LOOKING BACK. 
 
 Over all the waste of waters, 
 
 Waiting for the mist to rise. 
 Will it softly, quickly scatter? 
 
 Will its glittering glow unfold 
 Mansions, homes of heavenly beauty? 
 
 Paths, whose glory is untold? 
 Well we know, dark silent river, 
 
 That the pure in heart are blessed, 
 " Where the wicked cease from troubling, 
 
 And the weary are at rest." 
 
 Tired hands are gently folded 
 
 Over man}?" a pulseless breast; 
 Tired brains are freed forever 
 
 From the cares which once oppressed 
 But we, oh! death's dark river, 
 
 We are standing on thy brink ; 
 And from thy chilling waters, 
 
 Still timidly we shrink. 
 Shall we find our fondly cherished, 
 
 Beyond thy heaving breast, 
 " Where the wicked cease from troubling, 
 
 And the weary are at rest." 
 
 LOOKING BACK. 
 
 N looking back upon the past, 
 ^ How clearly we can trace 
 The guiding hand of Providence, 
 
 The gentle love, and grace ; 
 
RESIGNATION. 119 
 
 The holy tenderness, the light, 
 
 Which softly shone upon life's darkest night. 
 
 In all the many winding ways, 
 
 In which our footsteps trod, 
 When heavy trials came to us, 
 
 Our Father and our G-od 
 Still sent us comfort from above, 
 Still shielded us, with His protecting love. 
 
 When the false glitter of the world, 
 
 Grew strangely pale and cold; 
 When lustreless, became its gems, 
 
 And tarnished, all its gold ; 
 He gently led us in the way, 
 The narrow path that leads to endless day. 
 
 In all the sorrows that were ours, 
 
 The hopes of bygone years ; 
 The trials of our early youth, 
 
 Its sunshine, and its tears; 
 In all, we see our Father's hand, 
 Guiding His children toward the better land. 
 
 RESIGNATION. 
 
 fHE marble gleams above the forms 
 Of those we dearly loved and cherished, 
 And well we know how much of joy 
 Was buried with them, when they perished. 
 
120 RESIGNATION. 
 
 Life's sun can never light our way, 
 As once it did, with warmth and gladness,. 
 
 For shadows linger on our path, 
 And tender thoughts give place to sadness. 
 
 The hope that once could gild for us, 
 
 The lovely vales, the pleasant bowers, 
 Has lost the beauty of its touch, 
 
 The bloom has vanished from the flowers. 
 And listlessly we hear the birds — 
 
 Chanting their happy notes of pleasure ; 
 There was a time when our poor thoughts,. 
 
 Were tuned to just as glad a measure. 
 
 We try to say, " God's will be done," 
 
 Our heart's are all the time rebelling;. 
 "We try to listen to the truth 
 
 That faith is never tired of telling. 
 And so our days are gliding on, 
 
 Perchance our vision will be clearer, 
 When this shore softly fades away, 
 
 And heaven's coast is drawing nearer. 
 
I IN" ID IE IX 
 
 A Child's Song ** 
 
 Among the Slain 
 
 An Appeal for the Poor o» 
 
 A Grateful Heart bd 
 
 Autumn Leaves 
 
 105 
 
 April 
 
 A Hebrew Fable 
 
 117 
 By the River 
 
 o 
 
 Castles in the Air - 
 
 Charity g 
 
 Christ's Ministry * 
 
 Children at Play ■ • •• • • ; 
 
 "Cut it down : Why cumbereth it the Ground ? b«S 
 
 Christmas 
 
 Consolation 
 
 ^ 35 
 
 Dreaming _ 
 
 Death 
 
 qe 
 
 Evening Thoughts 
 
 Editors * 1Q& 
 
 Emily Isabella 
 
122 INDEX. 
 
 Faith, Hope and Charity 47 
 
 Flowers 60 
 
 Guardian Angels 15 
 
 Gratitude 19 
 
 Give us this Peace 25 
 
 Glad Tidings 103 
 
 Hallowed be Thy Name 45 
 
 How shall we sing the Lord's Song in a Strange 
 
 Land? 52 
 
 Hope 83 
 
 He giveth Peace 102 
 
 It might have been 10 
 
 If we can see 82 
 
 In Spirit and in Truth 84 
 
 In Memory of my Brother John 108 
 
 Little Maggie , 27 
 
 Life is what we make it 55 
 
 Lilies 80 
 
 Life's Sweet May 97 
 
 Love of Country 98 
 
 Lord, I believe 114 
 
 Let us consider 115 
 
 Looking Back 118 
 
 Morning 13 
 
 May Flowers 14 
 
 Morning in the Country ' 44 
 
INDEX. 123 
 
 My Native Land 70 
 
 New Year's Eve 104 
 
 Our Father, who art in Heaven, 12 
 
 Our Offering 72 
 
 Poverty's Answer to Pride 23 
 
 Peace 53 
 
 Parting Words 54 
 
 Prayer 78 
 
 Promoted 81 
 
 Prayers and Praise 106 
 
 Remember thy Creator in the Days of thy 
 
 Youth 21 
 
 Resignation 119 
 
 Sleep 7 
 
 Song of Spring 9 
 
 Sufficient for the Day 26 
 
 Sailing o'er the Sea 68 
 
 Summer 74 
 
 Spring's Invitation 79 
 
 Solitude at Sea 91 
 
 Sunset at Sea 109 
 
 Sorrow and Joy 110 
 
 Solitude 112 
 
 The Widow of Nain 5 
 
 The Rainbow 11 
 
 The Moss Rose— A Legend 17 
 
124 INDEX. 
 
 The First Gray Hair 20 
 
 The Old Man 22 
 
 The Nightingale's Love for the Rose 28 
 
 The Day is far spent 30 
 
 The Break of Day 33 
 
 The Boy and the Lily 40 
 
 The Shipwreck 61 
 
 The Sailor Boy's Grave 64 
 
 The Memory of Home 65 
 
 The Sower's Song 67 
 
 The Pet of the Household 69 
 
 The Sailor Boy's Song of the Sea 75 
 
 The House upon the Sand 76 
 
 The Shepherd's Watch 85 
 
 The Race of Life 87 
 
 The Sabbath Day 88 
 
 The Old St. Peter's P. E. Church, Baltimore. ... 90 
 
 The Old Year 92 
 
 The New St. Peter's P. E. Church, Baltimore .... 99 
 
 The Voice of the Sea 116 
 
 Twilight 34 
 
 Then and Now 46 
 
 Thy Kingdom Come 50 
 
 'Tis Midnight 57 
 
 Time 66 
 
 Thanksgiving 93 
 
 Visions , 95 
 
 Watchman, what of the Night ? 31 
 
INDEX. 
 
 125 
 
 " Who will show us any Good? " 42 
 
 What is Truth? 8 6 
 
 Work while it is Day 101 
 
 We pass along 107 
 
 Youth and Age -» • • • 48