By the Sea, and Other Verses

Lift up thine eyes unto the hills;
A pure and fragrant breath
Is wafted from their purple tops,—
The Heaven-sent breath of Faith.

Lift up thine eyes unto the hills;
Beyond their shadowy slope
The Sun of Righteousness doth rise
In roseate dawn of Hope.

Lift up thine eyes unto the hills;
Around, below, above,
The holy sky is all aglow
With the warm light of Love.

Lift up thine eyes unto the hills;—
Faith, Hope and Love are given
To point from fading joys of earth,
To endless joy of Heaven.

TO R. T. B.

ON HER MARRIAGE DAY

Sister, we know
That God is good, and He hath led us on
By pleasant ways or painful to this day.
Our lives went on together until now.
In childhood and in youth the same fond home
Hath been our earthly refuge; the same Rock
Our shelter when earth had no rest or shade.
At the same fancy we have often smiled,
For the same sorrow wept; and oft our souls,
In mingling aspirations, have sent up
The same thanksgiving, the same burning prayer.
Yes, we have lived together; we have known
The visible blending of the outward life
Made real by the holier unison
Of loving spirit and aspiring mind.
The spells of joy have bound us—and of hope,
And tears—which are the diamond links of love—
Have made the chain of our affection strong.
It may be thus no more; yet—God is good—
I hush the moaning of my riven heart,
And smile that thou art happy; and give thanks
That thy sweet life, rejoicing, hath put on
Its richest diadem, its crown of love.
May the kind Father grant that crown to be
All worthy of the wearer; may His smile
Lend brightness to it ever; and at last,
When it is laid with earthly robes away,
O may the infinite and eternal Love
Rest like a glory on thy radiant brow.

ON NEW YEAR, 1897

TO G. D. AND S. F. B.

God bless you thro' this bright new year,
The first you spend together;
Give peace and trust thro' cloudy days,
Joy in its sunny weather.

And may the days as days go by,
Still richer seem and sweeter,
And passing seasons make your lives
In every good completer.

There are not words to tell the love
In which I could caress you;
Your dear united names I breathe,
And once more pray, God bless you.

TO ANNA

ON HER SIXTEENTH BIRTHDAY

Sixteen! and life to thee looks bright and fair;—
A book unread, rose-tinted, golden edged,
Encased in binding curious, costly, rare;—
And all the years to be thou holdest pledged
To give thee from its pages, day by day,
Readings to cheer and bless the blithesome way.

And life is such a volume, only thou,
From garnered storage of the heart and mind,
Must fill unwritten pages, and allow
Fair pictures—of pure thought, of self resigned,
Of kindly deeds—each new-made page to grace;—
How blest if none thou, later, woulds't efface!

Sixteen! A May-day in the path of life,
A marvelous puzzle on the finger twirled;
Sixteen again; a stir of earnest strife
And toil and tumult in a restless world;
Repeated still,—a patient, steadfast hold
On good attained,—ripe fruit, and grain of gold.

Sixteen once more! Serene in shade or sun,
A brighter outlook now; existence grand!
Content in hopes fulfilled, in victories won,
Mingling with holier yearnings for that land,
Whose o'er-flown radiance and whose surplus bliss
Have been the glory and the joy of this.

A SONG OF TENS

TO MARY

At the tenth birthday all the world looks fair;
The twentieth scarcely shades it with a care;
At the third decade life soars grand and high;
But with the fourth its heyday passes by.

The fifth comes on,—a century's half is told;
The sixth,—our little girl is growing old.
Another half-score milestone passed, and then
We've reached the allotted three-score years and ten.

Years may be added; should they come to thee
May Faith and Wisdom their companion be;
Hope thy sure anchor; Peace with thee abide,
And Love still be thy light at eventide.

JESSICA

A gentleman once wrote of Elizabeth Fry: "Her name has long been a word of beauty in our household."

Make thy name a word of beauty,
Like the lily pure and fair,
From its perfumed cup exhaling
Sweetest fragrance on the air.

Make thy name a word of beauty
Lustrous as the ocean pearl;
Constant in life's loving service,
Guileless through youth's mazy whirl.

Make thy name a word of beauty,
Radiant, steadfast, like a star;
Shedding from a glowing center
Love's effulgence near and far.

Aye, we greet thee, rare-sweet maiden,
(Make it evermore thy right),
Jessica—our word of beauty,
Lily, pearl, and star of light.

TRANSITION

Out of the blindness and the night
Into clear and constant light.

Out of the weariness and pain
Into everlasting gain.

Out of the toil and durance hard
Into rest and rich reward.

Out of the doubting and distress
Into certain blessedness.

Out of the dusty lanes of care
Into pastures green and fair.

Out of the glaring desert sun
To shades where cooling waters run.

Out of the din of woe and wrong
Into choral waves of song

Out of the dwelling, worn and old,
Into the city of pearl and gold.

Where now, O Death, where is thy sting?
Thou art the summons to the King.

O Grave, where is thy victory?
Thou art the gateway to the free!

TO A. H. B.

A "COMMENCEMENT" GREETING
With Portraits of Eminent Authors

Dear Hallam, with this trifling gift
Best wishes now I send thee;
Through all thy future life may joy
And grace and peace attend thee.

May this the bright beginning be
Of days love-crowned and royal;
May griefs and faults and foes be few,
Friends manifold and loyal.

May gems from authors such as these
Store well thy mental coffer,
But for thy heart's enrichment please
Accept the love I offer.

1882

TO WINNIE

ON HER WEDDING DAY

Stars will shine on, tho thou art gone,
But we shall miss the gleaming
Of one bright eye's responsive smile,
And love-light softly beaming.

And flowers will bloom,—but we shall miss
A fragrance and a beauty
That brightened for us here and there
The sombre path of duty.

And friends will greet us on our way,
But we shall miss the sweetness
Of a fair presence that hath made
So much of life's completeness.

And yet 'tis well; we give thee joy,
And pray with this caressing;
That love and peace without alloy
May be thy bridal blessing.

A LIFE WORK

IN MEMORY OF DANIEL HILL

He heard the cry of man enslaved
In bonds and servile toil;
And gave his voice for freedom till
The "Freedman" tilled "free-soil."

He saw his weaker brother reel,
Pierced by Drink's poisoned dart,
And wrought and wrote with fervent zeal
To stay the Tempter's art.

He heard the clash of sword and gun
In deadly battle-strife;
And pleaded till his day was done
For Love's sweet rule in life.

He rests in peace. Who now shall wear
The mantle he let fall?
Who teach as he the Father-love,
The brotherhood of all?

VISIONS

I saw when Israel toiled and groaned beneath the Pharoah's rod,
And in his hopeless bondage moaned his helpless prayer to God.

I saw when from the river's brink the infant leader rose,
Who, reared in Egypt's royal court, still felt his brothers' woes.

I heard him at the burning bush his swift excuses bring:
"Who, who am I, that I should stand before the Egyptian king?

"And who am I that I should lead the people of thy choice?
My warning word they will not heed, nor hearken to my voice.

"And who am I that I should move a monarch to relent?
I, but a man, and slow of speech, nor wise, nor eloquent."

I marked the answer: "Plead no more thy vain excuse to me;
I am the Lord; my servant thou; my glory thou shalt see.

"I am the Lord; the power is mine; 'tis thine to hear and do;
The Lord almighty is to save, by many or by few."

The man of doubt exchanged his fears for faith in God and right,
While meek obedience on his brow sat like a crown of light.

The slow of speech grew eloquent, till Israel gladly heard;
And bolder waxed the Leader, till the king's hard heart was stirred,

And he in fierce displeasure drove the captives from his land;
Not knowing their deliverance was all divinely planned.

Down the long line of two-score years I looked and saw at last,
The blissful view from Pisgah's height; the Jordan safely passed;

And heard—as Memnon's harp had caught the sweet enchanting strain,
And sent adown the waves of time brave Miriam's glad refrain—

"Sing, for the Lord hath triumphed; sing, great wonders can he do;
The Lord is mighty and can save by many or by few."

I saw again, when sin-enslaved, by Jabin's hand oppressed,
A people's cry went up to God for rescue and for rest.

Then up rose Deborah, judge and seer, with all her valiant band,
And drove the oppressor from her gates, his chariots from her land.

And Jael, wife of Heber, slew his captain with the sword;
So woman's hand achieved that day the victory for the Lord.

And woman's voice extolled in song the great Deliverer's name:—
"Praise God! He hath avenged His own, for willingly they came.

"The mountains melt before His face, the tribes their strength renew;
The Lord is mighty and doth save by many or by few."

I saw when Gideon led his band down to the water's bank
To prove and set them in array, as man by man they drank,

And with the handful chosen thus went forth against the foe,
And vanquished all the Midian host, and laid their princes low.

Not with the thousands called from far, who pitched by Harod's well;
Nor yet the undismayed who stood when the faint-hearted fell;

But "Now, with these three hundred men, go forward," said the Lord;
"Do thou thy part, let them do theirs, trust, and obey my word."

Their torches flashed like dancing flames, their trumpets loudly blew;
Strange warfare! but the Lord can save by many or by few.

Once more I saw when Israel quailed before Philistia's pride;
While great Goliath, day by day, Jehovah's power defied.

The weak and timid fled away, the valiant shrank with fear;—
'Twas threatened death or dire defeat, and life and fame are dear.

Even Saul, their chosen king, forgot (admiring Israel's boast!)
That he stood head and shoulders high above his martial host.

"And are there none," he cried, "who dare to meet this vaunting foe?
And must the banner of our God trail in dishonor low?"

Then forth there came a ruddy youth: "That banner I'll defend;
Be it not said our God hath none on whom He may depend.

"Let no heart fail to-day because of this Philistine's boast;
The battle is the Lord's and He will vanquish this proud host."

Then spake he to the giant foe: "A loyal servant I
Of Israel's God, whose holy name thou darest to defy.

"In that dread name I charge thee stand, and shield thee as thou may;
The fowls of air, the beasts of earth shall feast on thee to-day."

'Twas but a pebble from the brook, sent by a loyal will;
But sword and spear not mightier were God's purpose to fulfil.

For one may chase a thousand, and ten thousand flee from two;
The God of right is strong to save by many or by few.

* * * * *

Years, ages pass and now I see a land beloved and fair;
And lo! a cruel enemy hath gained possession there.

The riches of this goodly land into his coffers pour;
Insatiate and unscrupulous, his constant cry is "More!"

"More money clinking in my till, more men—my licensed prey;
More boys to feed my traffic when these men have passed away."

Thus man is robbed of purse and soul, home of its peace and joy;
The wife of husband is bereft, the mother of her boy.

The land doth mourn. On every side the spoiler hath his way;
No past oppression hath surpassed this vision of to-day.

And who, like Moses, will exchange his self-distrust and fear
For faith to meet the encroaching foe and check his bold career?

And who, like Deborah, will arise and lead a valiant band
To drive the Tyrant from her gates, the Traffic from her land?

Who will, like Gideon and his men, the light of truth dare throw
On darkest evil, and the trump of coming victory blow?

Or who, like David, will come forth in God's great name, alone,
And lay the boastful giant low, as once with sling and stone?

When Avarice and unholy Pride against the good contend,
The battle is the Lord's and He His people will defend.

The great Red Sea of wrong, while He doth pass, shall stand aside;
Mountains shall bow before Him, and proud Jordan's waves divide.

Each epoch hath its burning bush, and each its palm-tree shade;
And each its oak of Ophrah, where the pledge of peace is made.

And each its fold, where kingly soul in shepherd guise is found;
And when the Master calleth there the place is "holy ground."

Holy the place; but whose the hour? perchance He calleth thee,
Or thee; who, who will answer now, "Lord, here am I; send me?"

O, for the love of land and home, make answer brave and true;
Our God is mighty still to save, by many or by few.

BE YE ALSO READY

Let us be still before Him. Yet once more
That voice hath spoken to our startled souls
Which fell in solemn cadence on the ear
Of the hushed listeners on Mt. Olive's hill:
"At eventide, at midnight, or at morn,
The Son of Man shall come, shall surely come;
Be ready, for ye may not know the hour."
And if at eventide, when Nature folds
Her toil-spent hands and sinks into repose;
Or if at midnight hour of gloom Thou come,
Or when the morning spreads her wings of light,
Oh make us ready for the solemn call.
Supply our need, of knowledge, wisdom, grace,
Dear Lord, that with confiding joy our souls,
Made pure of sin and strong in faith, may go
To meet Thee at Thy coming. If the sound
Of sweet home-voices follow to the brink
Of death's dark river, as they fainter grow,
Then let us hear Thy still small voice of love;
Say to us, "It is I—be not afraid."
Or if the angel of the icy hand
Should find us when no human friend is near
And summon us away, then as we lose
Our hold of earth and fall away from life,
O wilt Thou grant our parting spirits may
Go out in silence and be found with Thee.

MIMOSA

A modest plant; soft shades of green
In leaflets poised on slender stem;
And all outspread to catch the glow
Of morning sun or dew-drop gem.

But, lo, what change! When finger-tips
But touch the leaflets' fringe, the charm
Of life is gone—Mimosa shrinks,
As conscious of some present harm.

So would I have my soul recoil
From touch of wrong or thought of sin;
So throw its portals wide again,
To let the dew and sunshine in.

AT THE CRISIS

I.—THE STEAMBOAT BELLS

When steamboats approach Mt. Vernon their bells begin to toll, and continue the mournful service until the sacred spot is again left in the distance.

Mt. Vernon's shade sweet vigil keeps
Where on her breast her hero sleeps;
O passing bells, soft be your tone,
Toll gently for our Washington.

Toll, the great Warrior's strife is o'er;
Toll, for the Statesman pleads no more;
Toll—for a Man is fallen—on,
Peal out your dirge for Washington.

Toll for a people's wounded heart,
Toll for a bleeding Nation's smart,
Toll for a World!—toll sadly on—
The world hath lost a Washington.

Ring out your wailing on the air,
And let it be a voice of prayer;
He whom we greatly need is gone;—
God give another Washington.

1863

Thus while she listened to the mournful knell
That woke sad echoes on Potomac's shore;
Saw how from Sumter's height her banner fell,
And heard, not distant far, loud battle's roar;—

Thus, while she heard the impatient bondman's moan,
Knew her own power defied, her trust betrayed;
While Treason rose to hurl her from her throne—
The Spirit of the Union mused and prayed.

II.—THE EMANCIPATOR

God gave another; while we stood
Aghast before the coming flood
Of war, and its attending woes,
The one for whom she prayed arose.

Blinded and deaf, we knew him not;
Yet saw him wipe out slavery's blot;
Heard him proclaim his people free,
From lake to gulf, from sea to sea.

Saw this and heard, but deaf and blind,
We failed to recognize the Mind,
Which, going on from strength to strength,
From grace to grace, had grown at length,

Thro the stern lessons of the hour,
Of danger, censure, praise and power,
To be the Man among us, one,
Whom now we hail, since he is gone,
Lincoln, our more than Washington.

1866

ON THE DEATH OF DR. JAMES E. RHOADS

Fallen? No; his part was finished
In the earthly toil and strife;
He hath but lain his armor by,
And entered into life.

Silent? No; tho' hushed forever
Tones that did like music thrill,
Through example, helpful, holy,
Lo, he speaketh still.

Vanished? Lost to those that loved him?
No; his spirit lingering near
Still doth woo them, onward, upward,
Whispering, "Be of cheer."

Crowned? Aye, crowned in earth and heaven;
Here with laurels fairly won;
There with star-lit diadem,
Inscribed "Well done! well done!"

ETERNAL YOUTH

Looking in thine eyes of azure,
Looking on thy hair of gold,
Once I wished, Evangelina,
That there were no growing old.

For I thought of how thy sweet eyes
Would grow dim with tears and care;
How the years would turn to silver
All thy wealth of golden hair.

How the lines of life would gather
O'er the face so placid now;
Traces of its toil and struggle
Touching lip and cheek and brow.

This I thought, and wished the shadows
Might not lengthen o'er thy way;
Wished there were no time but spring-time,
Were no evening of the day.

Now I fear, Evangelina,
That my wish was half a prayer,
That the listening Father heard me,
That thou liest, an answer, there.

For thou liest in thy beauty,—
Eyes of blue and hair of gold,
Lip and cheek and brow of marble,
Folded fingers, still and cold;—
O my angel, God hath called thee
Where there is no growing old.

BUILDING TIME

The time of the singing of birds is come;
'Tis the happiest time of the year:
They are saying, "Let's build us our summer home,
For the frost-king no longer we fear."

The time of the singing of birds is come,
And the time of their building, too;
With a feather, a straw and a stray bit of gum
They will shew what bird-builders can do.

The time of the singing of birds is come:
I was eaves-dropping under the trees;
And as I translated the twitter and hum,
I thought the words sounded like these:

"Twirr-a-whirr, twirr-a-whirr,
The young leaves are astir;
We will make us a nest snug and warm
On this apple-tree bough—
We are at it e'en now—
All secure from intruders and storm.

"'Tis for home, 'tis for love,
'Tis for heaven above,
And our roof is the clear azure sky;
The foundations we lay
In this rough straw and clay,
But we'll line it with moss by and by."

The time of the singing of birds is here,
And if under the apple-tree bough
Orlando and May would a domicile rear,
Let them hear what the birds tell them now:

"Build for home, build for love,
Build for heaven above,
Build with music and cheer like the birds;
And if palace or cot,
Built of marble or what,
Line your nest with the moss of kind words,"

SUNRISE

The incident here narrated occurred some years ago at the Media Training School for Feeble-Minded Children, then in care of Dr. I. N. Kerlin.

A feeble, idiot boy, he stood
Where Nature in her beauty grew,
And over field and flowering wood
Her summer mantle lightly threw.

The scene had met his eye before;
The pleasant path he oft had trod;
And one who sought in simple lore
To teach him things of heaven and God

Had often wandered with him there,
And pointed out each lovely spot,—
The sunlit cloud—the floweret fair—
But still he comprehended not.

For all his soul was void and still,
And darkness held his mind in thrall;
He recognized no Sovereign Will,
Nor saw the hand of God in all.

In Nature's presence now alone
He stood, and filled with silent awe,
Beheld, before the coming sun,
The curtained Night in haste withdraw.

And gazing there with vacant eye,
All motionless and mute he waits,
When lo! the chariot of the sky
Rolls through the morning's crimson gates.

The orient beams with beauteous light—
Hath not his soul its radiance caught?
His being grasps a new delight;
A deep, mysterious change is wrought.

A light is kindled in his breast;
A temple-veil at length is riven;
And in that hour of strange unrest
A thought is born—of God in heaven.

In haste he seeks his tutor's side,
For he who "bore in grief a part"
Will, in this happy hour of pride,
Responsive hail his joy of heart.

The glowing cheek, the flashing eye,
The parted lips—not voiceless now—
And, caught from that resplendent sky,
The marvelous light upon his brow,—

While these, ere yet he speaks, attest
The rapture which that thought has given;
He lifts his finger toward the east
And softly whispers, "God, in Heaven!"

O blessed hour! and happy he
To whom, thro patient love 'twas given
To set a fettered spirit free,
And wake a hope of God in Heaven

NEAL DOW

WRITTEN FOR A MEMORIAL DAY SERVICE

A Soul was stirred as one thro' blinding tears
Rehearsed a tale of want and cruel wrong;
Keen indignation banished doubts and fears;
The purpose of imperial youth grew strong.

A Voice was heard: "Alas! that on the side
Of sin and mad oppression there is power,
But we will change all this, if God so aid":—
And Maine's new freedom dated from that hour.

A Life was given; fraught with noble deeds;—
Aflame with words of truth, and tireless zeal,
And boldness for the right that gave no heed
To threatening hate, or sycophant's appeal.

But men decried the fervor of that Soul,
And would have hushed the Voice that pleaded still
Against the oppressors' power, and such control
As brought them gain, all others loss and ill.

And men denounced that Life; and where it came
Ofttimes their scoffings tainted the sweet air,
As with malicious scorn they hailed a name
That calumny itself left clean and fair.

And now that Soul hath entered into rest;
That Voice is silent, and that peerless Life
Hath crossed the threshold where the good and blest
Enter, and cease from sorrow, toil and strife.

O Life and Voice and Soul! O princely one!
Our loyal hearts send greeting to thee now;
Thy name has lighted near a century gone,—
'Twill brighten ages yet to come, Neal Dow.

"PARADISE WILL PAY FOR ALL"

LAST WORDS OF SAMUEL A. PURDIE

From the charm of idle pleasure,
From Ambition's siren song,
From the rush for earthly treasure
Of the busy, careless throng;
In the dawn of life's fair morning
He had heard the Master's call;
"Yea, I come," his heart made answer,
"Paradise will pay for all."

On through years of toil and struggle
Walked he, faithful to his word;
Blameless life and kind entreaty
Leading many to the Lord.
Meeting dangers, bearing burdens
Well might stoutest heart appal;
But to every doubt replying,
"Paradise will pay for all."

Now at eve, toil-spent and weary,
Pierced with pain the pilgrim lay;
Watching still with faith triumphant
For the dawn of brighter day.
Then upon his ear there falleth
Once again the Master's call:
"Come up higher." "Yea," he answers,
"Paradise will pay for all."

FORGIVENESS

Father in Heaven, I thank Thee for this hour,
This blessed hour wherein my contrite soul
Humbled and happy bows itself to Thee,
Pleading that all its error and its sin
May be forgiven—even as I forgive.

The cruel wrong swept o'er me like a flood;
And my hurt soul in fierce defiance rose,
And all forgetful that itself could sin
Heaped heavy hatred on the offender's head.
There came a calmer hour in which I saw
The strong temptation that had moved him thus
To barter all his better life away—
Love, honor, principle—to gain the world.
And seeing this I learned to pity him.
For well I knew the bauble he had won
Would only mock him with its faithless glare;
And well I knew the golden fruit he grasped
Would be but dust and ashes in his hand;
And knowing this I learned to pity him.
And as my pity grew it turned to prayer—
That when the glitter of the gold was gone,
And the sweet fruit was bitter to his taste;
When the sad memory of the slighted past
Came, and made deeper still the present gloom,
The darkness might be lifted, and the Soul,
Self-robbed and famishing, might find its way
To the green pastures and the springs of life,
That in the heart whence love and joy had fled,
Whence hope was exiled, there might yet be peace.
But suddenly I queried in my heart
What power had moved me that I should have prayed
For him I counted as my life-long foe.
Greatly I marveled what it meant that thus
I had called down such blessing upon him—
The kindliest boon of heaven, the peace of God.
Deep in my soul there came an answering voice:
"O Child, it is but this—thou hast forgiven!"

Then thanks, O Father, for this plessed hour,
Wherein my soul, by Thine own Spirit taught,
Prays with no mockery of words Thy prayer:
"Forgive my trespasses, as I forgive."