We have set A strange god up, but Thou remainest yet.
All that I feel of pity Thou hast known Before I was; my best is all Thy own.
From Thy great heart of goodness mine but drew Wishes and prayers; but Thou, O Lord, wilt do, In Thy own time, by ways I cannot see, All that I feel when I am nearest Thee!" 1873.
THE FRIEND'S BURIAL.
My thoughts are all in yonder town, Where, wept by many tears, To-day my mother's friend lays down The burden of her years.
True as in life, no poor disguise Of death with her is seen, And on her simple casket lies No wreath of bloom and green.
Oh, not for her the florist's art, The mocking weeds of woe; Dear memories in each mourner's heart Like heaven's white lilies blow.
And all about the softening air Of new-born sweetness tells, And the ungathered May-flowers wear The tints of ocean shells.
The old, assuring miracle Is fresh as heretofore; And earth takes up its parable Of life from death once more.
Here organ-swell and church-bell toll Methinks but discord were; The prayerful silence of the soul Is best befitting her.
No sound should break the quietude Alike of earth and sky O wandering wind in Seabrook wood, Breathe but a half-heard sigh! Sing softly, spring-bird, for her sake; And thou not distant sea, Lapse lightly as if Jesus spake, And thou wert Galilee! For all her quiet life flowed on As meadow streamlets flow, Where fresher green reveals alone The noiseless ways they go.
From her loved place of prayer I see The plain-robed mourners pass, With slow feet treading reverently The graveyard's springing grass.
Make room, O mourning ones, for me, Where, like the friends of Paul, That you no more her face shall see You sorrow most of all.
Her path shall brighten more and more Unto the perfect day; She cannot fail of peace who bore Such peace with her away.
O sweet, calm face that seemed to wear The look of sins forgiven! O voice of prayer that seemed to bear Our own needs up to heaven! How reverent in our midst she stood, Or knelt in grateful praise! What grace of Christian womanhood Was in her household ways! For still her holy living meant No duty left undone; The heavenly and the human blent Their kindred loves in one.
And if her life small leisure found For feasting ear and eye, And Pleasure, on her daily round, She passed unpausing by, Yet with her went a secret sense Of all things sweet and fair, And Beauty's gracious providence Refreshed her unaware.
She kept her line of rectitude With love's unconscious ease; Her kindly instincts understood All gentle courtesies.
An inborn charm of graciousness Made sweet her smile and tone, And glorified her farm-wife dress With beauty not its own.
The dear Lord's best interpreters Are humble human souls; The Gospel of a life like hers Is more than books or scrolls.
From scheme and creed the light goes out, The saintly fact survives; The blessed Master none can doubt Revealed in holy lives.
1873.
A CHRISTMAS CARMEN.
I.
Sound over all waters, reach out from all lands, The chorus of voices, the clasping of hands; Sing hymns that were sung by the stars of the morn, Sing songs of the angels when Jesus was born! With glad jubilations Bring hope to the nations The dark night is ending and dawn has begun Rise, hope of the ages, arise like the sun, All speech flow to music, all hearts beat as one! II.
Sing the bridal of nations! with chorals of love Sing out the war-vulture and sing in the dove, Till the hearts of the peoples keep time in accord, And the voice of the world is the voice of the Lord! Clasp hands of the nations In strong gratulations: The dark night is ending and dawn has begun; Rise, hope of the ages, arise like the sun, All speech flow to music, all hearts beat as one! III.
Blow, bugles of battle, the marches of peace; East, west, north, and south let the long quarrel cease Sing the song of great joy that the angels began, Sing of glory to God and of good-will to man! Hark! joining in chorus The heavens bend o'er us' The dark night is ending and dawn has begun; Rise, hope of the ages, arise like the sun, All speech flow to music, all hearts beat as one! 1873.
VESTA.
O Christ of God! whose life and death Our own have reconciled, Most quietly, most tenderly Take home Thy star-named child! Thy grace is in her patient eyes, Thy words are on her tongue; The very silence round her seems As if the angels sung.
Her smile is as a listening child's Who hears its mother call; The lilies of Thy perfect peace About her pillow fall.
She leans from out our clinging arms To rest herself in Thine; Alone to Thee, dear Lord, can we Our well-beloved resign! Oh, less for her than for ourselves We bow our heads and pray; Her setting star, like Bethlehem's, To Thee shall point the way! 1874.
CHILD-SONGS.
Still linger in our noon of time And on our Saxon tongue The echoes of the home-born hymns The Aryan mothers sung.
And childhood had its litanies In every age and clime; The earliest cradles of the race Were rocked to poet's rhyme.
Nor sky, nor wave, nor tree, nor flower, Nor green earth's virgin sod, So moved the singer's heart of old As these small ones of God.
The mystery of unfolding life Was more than dawning morn, Than opening flower or crescent moon The human soul new-born.
And still to childhood's sweet appeal The heart of genius turns, And more than all the sages teach From lisping voices learns,-- The voices loved of him who sang, Where Tweed and Teviot glide, That sound to-day on all the winds That blow from Rydal-side,-- Heard in the Teuton's household songs, And folk-lore of the Finn, Where'er to holy Christmas hearths The Christ-child enters in! Before life's sweetest mystery still The heart in reverence kneels; The wonder of the primal birth The latest mother feels.
We need love's tender lessons taught As only weakness can; God hath His small interpreters; The child must teach the man.
We wander wide through evil years, Our eyes of faith grow dim; But he is freshest from His hands And nearest unto Him! And haply, pleading long with Him For sin-sick hearts and cold, The angels of our childhood still The Father's face behold.
Of such the kingdom!--Teach Thou us, O-Master most divine, To feel the deep significance Of these wise words of Thine! The haughty eye shall seek in vain What innocence beholds; No cunning finds the key of heaven, No strength its gate unfolds.
Alone to guilelessness and love That gate shall open fall; The mind of pride is nothingness, The childlike heart is all! 1875.
THE HEALER.
TO A YOUNG PHYSICIAN, WITH DORE'S PICTURE OF CHRIST HEALING THE SICK.
So stood of old the holy Christ Amidst the suffering throng; With whom His lightest touch sufficed To make the weakest strong.
That healing gift He lends to them Who use it in His name; The power that filled His garment's hem Is evermore the same.
For lo! in human hearts unseen The Healer dwelleth still, And they who make His temples clean The best subserve His will.
The holiest task by Heaven decreed, An errand all divine, The burden of our common need To render less is thine.
The paths of pain are thine.

Go forth With patience, trust, and hope; The sufferings of a sin-sick earth Shall give thee ample scope.
Beside the unveiled mysteries Of life and death go stand, With guarded lips and reverent eyes And pure of heart and hand.
So shalt thou be with power endued From Him who went about The Syrian hillsides doing good, And casting demons out.
That Good Physician liveth yet Thy friend and guide to be; The Healer by Gennesaret Shall walk the rounds with thee.
THE TWO ANGELS.
God called the nearest angels who dwell with Him above: The tenderest one was Pity, the dearest one was Love.
"Arise," He said, "my angels! a wail of woe and sin Steals through the gates of heaven, and saddens all within.
"My harps take up the mournful strain that from a lost world swells, The smoke of torment clouds the light and blights the asphodels.
"Fly downward to that under world, and on its souls of pain Let Love drop smiles like sunshine, and Pity tears like rain!" Two faces bowed before the Throne, veiled in their golden hair; Four white wings lessened swiftly down the dark abyss of air.
The way was strange, the flight was long; at last the angels came Where swung the lost and nether world, red-wrapped in rayless flame.
There Pity, shuddering, wept; but Love, with faith too strong for fear, Took heart from God's almightiness and smiled a smile of cheer.
And lo! that tear of Pity quenched the flame whereon it fell, And, with the sunshine of that smile, hope entered into hell! Two unveiled faces full of joy looked upward to the Throne, Four white wings folded at the feet of Him who sat thereon! And deeper than the sound of seas, more soft than falling flake, Amidst the hush of wing and song the Voice Eternal spake: "Welcome, my angels! ye have brought a holier joy to heaven; Henceforth its sweetest song shall be the song of sin forgiven!" 1875.
OVERRULED.
The threads our hands in blindness spin No self-determined plan weaves in; The shuttle of the unseen powers Works out a pattern not as ours.
Ah! small the choice of him who sings What sound shall leave the smitten strings; Fate holds and guides the hand of art; The singer's is the servant's part.
The wind-harp chooses not the tone That through its trembling threads is blown; The patient organ cannot guess What hand its passive keys shall press.
Through wish, resolve, and act, our will Is moved by undreamed forces still; And no man measures in advance His strength with untried circumstance.
As streams take hue from shade and sun, As runs the life the song must run; But, glad or sad, to His good end God grant the varying notes may tend! 1877.
HYMN OF THE DUNKERS KLOSTER KEDAR, EPHRATA, PENNSYLVANIA (1738) SISTER MARIA CHRISTINA sings Wake, sisters, wake! the day-star shines; Above Ephrata's eastern pines The dawn is breaking, cool and calm.
Wake, sisters, wake to prayer and psalm! Praised be the Lord for shade and light, For toil by day, for rest by night! Praised be His name who deigns to bless Our Kedar of the wilderness! Our refuge when the spoiler's hand Was heavy on our native land; And freedom, to her children due, The wolf and vulture only knew.
We praised Him when to prison led, We owned Him when the stake blazed red; We knew, whatever might befall, His love and power were over all.
He heard our prayers; with outstretched arm He led us forth from cruel harm; Still, wheresoe'er our steps were bent, His cloud and fire before us went! The watch of faith and prayer He set, We kept it then, we keep it yet.
At midnight, crow of cock, or noon, He cometh sure, He cometh soon.
He comes to chasten, not destroy, To purge the earth from sin's alloy.
At last, at last shall all confess His mercy as His righteousness.
The dead shall live, the sick be whole, The scarlet sin be white as wool; No discord mar below, above, The music of eternal love! Sound, welcome trump, the last alarm! Lord God of hosts, make bare thine arm, Fulfil this day our long desire, Make sweet and clean the world with fire! Sweep, flaming besom, sweep from sight The lies of time; be swift to smite, Sharp sword of God, all idols down, Genevan creed and Roman crown.
Quake, earth, through all thy zones, till all The fanes of pride and priesteraft fall; And lift thou up in place of them Thy gates of pearl, Jerusalem! Lo! rising from baptismal flame, Transfigured, glorious, yet the same, Within the heavenly city's bound Our Kloster Kedar shall be found.
He cometh soon! at dawn or noon Or set of sun, He cometh soon.
Our prayers shall meet Him on His way; Wake, sisters, wake! arise and pray! 1877.
GIVING AND TAKING.
I have attempted to put in English verse a prose translation of a poem by Tinnevaluva, a Hindoo poet of the third century of our era.
Who gives and hides the giving hand, Nor counts on favor, fame, or praise, Shall find his smallest gift outweighs The burden of the sea and land.
Who gives to whom hath naught been given, His gift in need, though small indeed As is the grass-blade's wind-blown seed, Is large as earth and rich as heaven.
Forget it not, O man, to whom A gift shall fall, while yet on earth; Yea, even to thy seven-fold birth Recall it in the lives to come.
Who broods above a wrong in thought Sins much; but greater sin is his Who, fed and clothed with kindnesses, Shall count the holy alms as nought.
Who dares to curse the hands that bless Shall know of sin the deadliest cost; The patience of the heavens is lost Beholding man's unthankfulness.
For he who breaks all laws may still In Sivam's mercy be forgiven; But none can save, in earth or heaven, The wretch who answers good with ill.
1877.
THE VISION OF ECHARD.
The Benedictine Echard Sat by the wayside well, Where Marsberg sees the bridal Of the Sarre and the Moselle.
Fair with its sloping vineyards And tawny chestnut bloom, The happy vale Ausonius sunk For holy Treves made room.
On the shrine Helena builded To keep the Christ coat well, On minster tower and kloster cross, The westering sunshine fell.
There, where the rock-hewn circles O'erlooked the Roman's game, The veil of sleep fell on him, And his thought a dream became.
He felt the heart of silence Throb with a soundless word, And by the inward ear alone A spirit's voice he heard.
And the spoken word seemed written On air and wave and sod, And the bending walls of sapphire Blazed with the thought of God.
"What lack I, O my children?
All things are in my band; The vast earth and the awful stars I hold as grains of sand.
"Need I your alms?
The silver And gold are mine alone; The gifts ye bring before me Were evermore my own.
"Heed I the noise of viols, Your pomp of masque and show?
Have I not dawns and sunsets Have I not winds that blow?
"Do I smell your gums of incense?
Is my ear with chantings fed?
Taste I your wine of worship, Or eat your holy bread?
"Of rank and name and honors Am I vain as ye are vain?
What can Eternal Fulness From your lip-service gain?
"Ye make me not your debtor Who serve yourselves alone; Ye boast to me of homage Whose gain is all your own.
"For you I gave the prophets, For you the Psalmist's lay For you the law's stone tables, And holy book and day.
"Ye change to weary burdens The helps that should uplift; Ye lose in form the spirit, The Giver in the gift.
"Who called ye to self-torment, To fast and penance vain?
Dream ye Eternal Goodness Has joy in mortal pain?
"For the death in life of Nitria, For your Chartreuse ever dumb, What better is the neighbor, Or happier the home?
"Who counts his brother's welfare As sacred as his own, And loves, forgives, and pities, He serveth me alone.
"I note each gracious purpose, Each kindly word and deed; Are ye not all my children?
Shall not the Father heed?
"No prayer for light and guidance Is lost upon mine ear The child's cry in the darkness Shall not the Father hear?
"I loathe your wrangling councils, I tread upon your creeds; Who made ye mine avengers, Or told ye of my needs; "I bless men and ye curse them, I love them and ye hate; Ye bite and tear each other, I suffer long and wait.
"Ye bow to ghastly symbols, To cross and scourge and thorn; Ye seek his Syrian manger Who in the heart is born.
"For the dead Christ, not the living, Ye watch His empty grave, Whose life alone within you Has power to bless and save.
"O blind ones, outward groping, The idle quest forego; Who listens to His inward voice Alone of Him shall know.
"His love all love exceeding The heart must needs recall, Its self-surrendering freedom, Its loss that gaineth all.
"Climb not the holy mountains, Their eagles know not me; Seek not the Blessed Islands, I dwell not in the sea.
"Gone is the mount of Meru, The triple gods are gone, And, deaf to all the lama's prayers, The Buddha slumbers on.
"No more from rocky Horeb The smitten waters gush; Fallen is Bethel's ladder, Quenched is the burning bush.
"The jewels of the Urim And Thurnmim all are dim; The fire has left the altar, The sign the teraphim.
"No more in ark or hill grove The Holiest abides; Not in the scroll's dead letter The eternal secret hides.
"The eye shall fail that searches For me the hollow sky; The far is even as the near, The low is as the high.
"What if the earth is hiding Her old faiths, long outworn?
What is it to the changeless truth That yours shall fail in turn?
"What if the o'erturned altar Lays bare the ancient lie?
What if the dreams and legends Of the world's childhood die?
"Have ye not still my witness Within yourselves alway, My hand that on the keys of life For bliss or bale I lay?
"Still, in perpetual judgment, I hold assize within, With sure reward of holiness, And dread rebuke of sin.
"A light, a guide, a warning, A presence ever near, Through the deep silence of the flesh I reach the inward ear.
"My Gerizim and Ebal Are in each human soul, The still, small voice of blessing, And Sinai's thunder-roll.
"The stern behest of duty, The doom-book open thrown, The heaven ye seek, the hell ye fear, Are with yourselves alone.".

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