Kitabı oku: «Home Poems», sayfa 3

THE HOLY DREAM

 
His reverend head was bowed upon his hands;
When in the lamp-light, thro’ his study door,
Sleep’s angel came, who wisely understands
How burdened hearts can be revived once more.
 
 
The day, with all it’s quiet hours, was past;
The sermon, that his weary brain prepared,
Had, with a hopeful heart, been preached at last,
And yet it seemed that not one listener cared.
 
 
Life’s crosses looked too great for him to bear,
And Hope was crushed beneath his spirit’s weight;
His soul, at last, had yielded to despair
And prayed for freedom, ere it was too late.
 
 
The answer came, but not as he had prayed,—
Life conquered death and sleep had mastered all;
Like some fond mother gently now she stayed
To soothe, and bless, and wake him at her call.
 
 
Sleeping he dreamed that, on her heavenly way,
The angel Death had listened to his prayer,
And led him upward to the endless day,
Beyond the valley known as Heart’s Despair.
 
 
Above, the gates of Heaven were swinging wide,
And he beheld the City of the King;
His angel friends were standing close beside,
Who, near the throne, the songs of Zion sing;
 
 
And, as he looked, a chariot of gold
Was passing o’er the pavement pearly-laid;
A gleam of heavenly light he could behold
Whose radiance warmed his soul and with him stayed.
 
 
“Who passes?” cried he; “Tell his honored name,
And whither will the golden chariot go?”
“To all the world,” the answer sweetly came;—
“’Tis Christ, the King of Heaven and earth below.”
 
 
Then, in the brightness of that blessed light,
He followed on, with never-tiring speed;
The chariot wheels he ever kept in sight,—
For strength was given, in the hour of need.
 
 
The chariot stopped, beside a crystal stream,
And Christ, descending, loosed the reins of gold;
Then, gazing downward past the heavenly gleam,
“Here lies the earth,” said he; “Come and behold!”
 
 
The follower came, as comes the wandering dove,
When seeking shelter from the storms of night;
And as he looked from that great height above,
He saw below a strange and sickening sight;—
 
 
The earth was there, like some great marshy tract,
With crowds, like blind men, wandering to and fro;
Some struggling upward, others falling back,
And crying out: “We know not where to go!”
 
 
He saw among them many of his own
To whom he preached the word of God each year;
There stood the little chapel, built of stone,
Where once he grieved, because some would not hear.
 
 
The darkness came; he heard their piteous cry,—
Weeping and moaning sounded thro’ the air,
As, one by one, they lost “the way” near by
And souls were yielding to a death’s despair.
 
 
He saw it all as never seen before,—
His eyes were opened, now he could not stay;
Standing with Christ his spirit did implore:—
“O send me back that I may point the way!”
 
 
Dreaming, he woke; the lamp was burning dim,—
The moon-beams thro’ the casement softly crept;
A revelation had been made to him
Which changed his heart, the while he sweetly slept.
 
 
Despair departed, love for life-work came;
The holy dream had made the man more wise.
He knelt to breathe a prayer in Jesus’ name,
While angels sang in peaceful Paradise.
 

HARMONY AND HEAVEN

 
Our souls are made of harmony
To sing and live forever;
For Harmony and Heaven are one
Where discord soundeth never.
 

THE DANDELION

 
One day, in spring, I took a walk
And spied, within a field of green,
A slender dandelion stock,
Upon whose top a flower was seen.
 
 
Soon after, passing by the place,
I noticed that the flower of gold,
Whose stiffened stalk had lost it’s grace,
Was turning gray and growing old.
 
 
To-day, upon the self same ground,
I see a stalk undecked and spare;
The flower that once was golden-crowned,
Has lost it’s gray—it’s head is bare.
 
 
How like a child is this gay flower,
With golden hair and graceful mien,
Which comes to brighten many an hour
And add a charm to dullest scene!
 
 
But soon the golden turns to gray
And middle life comes on apace;
The gray then hurries on its way,
And old age comes to take it’s place.
 

LIVES AND LEAVES

 
Our lives are like the leaves
That waken to the sun;
Some fall from airy heights
Ere Youth has scarce begun;
 
 
And some are tempest tost,
By an opposing power,
And driven blindly on
With every passing hour.
 
 
Some cling to their support,
In darkness and in light,
And grow from day to day
More perfect, strong, and bright.
 
 
God grant that lives and leaves,
When sunny days are past,
May find, from adverse winds,
A resting-place at last.
 

TO-DAY

 
’Tis not so hard to do what God desires,
If, while we trust and labor on and pray,
We look not back upon a Past decried,
Nor forward to a Future yet untried,
But do what Conscience prompts and soul requires,
And live within the hours which make to-day.
 
 
The Past is gone. The failure and the wrong
We cannot expiate by vain regret;
Forgiven have they been, and if to-day
We wish to live more nearly as we pray,
We must awake a grander, sweeter song
Within those hours which have been given yet.
 
 
While pondering o’er the failures of the then,
We make a failure of the now and here;
For life to-day shall lose it’s sunshine bright
If it recalls the shadows of last night.
While past mistakes possess the minds of men
The heart itself will have no power to cheer.
 
 
To-day we breathe, we move, we speak, we live,
To-morrow’s sun for us may never rise.
All that we do, or hope to do, or say,
Must be confined within our short to-day,
And all the blessings that our life can give
Must be out-poured before the daylight dies.
 
 
As we shall hope for nobler, higher things,
While up life’s mount we seek the Heavenly way
We must not measure, lest we may despair,
The height to be yet gained by work and prayer;
But like the lark, who soars and yet who sings,
Make most of time God gives in our to-day.
 
 
If future plans awaken thought and mind,
And we shall say:—“Some day, some hour, not yet,”
We rob the now of that divine reward
Which follows duty, given us by God,
And in to-day no pleasure shall we find;
And thus to-day becomes a past regret.
 
 
There falls upon us yet the morning light,
And if to-day we gladly do our best,
Our life itself will be most pure and sweet,
For the to-days make up the life complete.
The “little things” are pleasing in God’s sight,
And humble duties nobly done bring rest.
 
 
Then, Soul, awaken from thy drowsy sleep!
Dream not of past nor yet of future days,
But rouse thyself to-day to grander things.
The smile, the word, the loving deed take wings
To bear thy soul and others up the steep,
Where Life Eternal sings its endless praise.
 

DARKNESS AND DAYLIGHT

 
When shadows fall, and earth is gray,
Life seems less grand, the heart less gay;
The things that vexed in morning light,
Have grown to sorrows in the night.
 
 
When morning dawns, and earth is bright,
Life seems so grand, the heart so gay,
That Sorrows, nursed all thro’ the night,
Wakened by Wisdom, fly away.
 

WITHIN THE GATES

 
Live not for self,
But live for God;
Expect on earth
No great reward.
 
 
When life is o’er,
Thy Self shall stand
Within the gates
Of Promised Land.
 

OVER-SIGHT

 
Earth is not filled with sunshine bright—
The rain-drops sometimes fall;
And buds that might have seen the light
May blight at tempest’s call.
 
 
Life is not filled with sunshine bright—
The tear-drops sometimes fall;
And hopes that might have seen the light
May blight at sorrow’s call.
 
 
But God, who sends the rain and tears
And knows what things are best,
Will also send the faith that cheers
And guides us to our rest.
 

GOING HOME

 
“I am going home,” she whispered,—
“Home to mamma and the rest;
So I’ll put away my playthings,
For I think that home is best.
 
 
Mamma will be there to meet me,
And I’ll sit on papa’s knee;
All the others will be waiting
With a kiss for little me.
 
 
Look! it’s getting dark already,
But there’s nothing much to fear,
For it only takes a minute,—
Home, you know, is very near.”
 
 
So she put away her playthings,
While they smoothed her golden curls,
And she sweetly smiled in parting
To the little boys and girls.
 
 
“I am going Home,” she whispered,—
“Home to Jesus and to rest;
So I’ll put away my burdens,
For I think that Home is best.
 
 
Loved ones will be there to greet me,
I shall see and know them all;
There will be a glorious welcome
For the little me grown tall.
 
 
Look! the night is quickly coming,
But there’s nothing I can fear,
For it only takes a moment,—
Home, you know, is very near.”
 
 
So she put away life’s burdens,
While they smoothed her silvery hair,
And she sweetly smiled in parting
For she found her Saviour there.
 

THE GARDENER

 
He who shall sow the little seeds,
Must wait for them to grow;
Some day when he a solace needs
The pure, sweet flowers will blow.
 
 
When wintry storms their peace shall take,
And they are lost from sight,
These little seeds once more will wake,
To Heaven’s eternal light.
 

AT YORK

 
The moon-light falls upon the sea,
And leaves a path of glory;
The waves creep high upon the shore,
And roll the shining pebbles o’er;
Then, running back in noisy play
To meet the ever-dashing spray,
Like loyal lovers, gay and free,
Repeat the same sweet story.
 
 
The light-house, on the lonely isle,
Where shadows now are creeping,
Like sentinel, so true and brave,
Stands forth to stay each coming wave;
In raging storm as well as calm
This stalwart giant fears no harm,
And thro’ the night keeps watch the while
The fisher folk are sleeping.
 
 
A little boat now comes to view,
And, in the path of splendor,
It seems to drift with idle oar,
To distant moon and unknown shore,—
Till human vision, at its best,
Can scarce discern, on ocean’s crest,
That tiny speck that rocks the two
To love dreams new and tender.
 
 
The stars are peeping from the blue,
The “milky way” revealing;
A row of houses, on the sand,
Like line of fronted soldiers stand;
How dimly, thro’ the deepening night,
The cottage candle throws its light,
While breezes blow the curtains through—
A glimpse of home life stealing!
 
 
Some faint reflections on the deep
And to wet sands are creeping;
While, from the light within the tower
Whose steady glare reveals its power,
A path of red on land and sea,
Where waves make sweetest melody,
Reflects and soothes the mermaid’s sleep
Its hourly night watch keeping.
 
 
O beauteous evening! Peace above,
O’er sea and shore is falling;
On such a calm and glorious night
The human heart is nearer right;
God seems so great, and Heaven so fair,
That man and earth can not compare;
On night like this, the souls that love
Are roused to higher calling.
 

PEACE

 
When we ask the reason why,
And we question: “Is it right?”
When we search for hidden truths,
Praying for the needed light;
 
 
When our way looks long and lone,
And the sky seems dark o’erhead;
When our blessings all are gone,
And the sorrows come instead;
 
 
Then, like sunlight thro’ the gloom,
Comes the peace for which we prayed:—
“Let not your heart be troubled,
Neither let it be afraid.”
 

SHE SLEEPS

 
“She sleeps,” they said;
With noiseless tread
They pass their way;
She will awake,
At morning break,
In endless day.
 
 
“She sleeps,” they said;
Some tears are shed
From loving eyes;
To-day she sings,
With King of kings,
In Paradise.
 
 
One stands apart,
With breaking heart,
From all the rest;
His grief appears
Too great for tears,—
To weep were best.
 
 
“She sleeps,” they said
Around her head
The sunbeams play;
When all are gone
One lingers long
Who wills to stay.
 
 
He calls her name
And loves the same
As when in life;
With paling cheek
He bids her speak,—
His promised wife.
 
 
Alone are they;
What can he say
That she may hear?
He takes her hand,—
She’ll understand
When he is near.
 
 
He sees the smile
And waits awhile
With bated breath;
But lips speak not
Her loving thought,
Whose seal is death.
 
 
Around her face,
In girlish grace,
Falls silken hair;
Her dear eyes close
Yet well he knows
The soul light there.
 
 
His own is she;
On bended knee
Once more he prays:—
“Dear Father give,
While I shall live,
Strength for my days;
 
 
Help me to be
As pure as she;
And then at last
Unite us two
In Heaven, with You,
When life is past.”