.
A gold and purple sunset Flowed down the broad Moselle; On hills of vine and meadow lands The peace of twilight fell.
A slow, cool wind of evening Blew over leaf and bloom; And, faint and far, the Angelus Rang from Saint Matthew's tomb.
Then up rose Master Echard, And marvelled: "Can it be That here, in dream and vision, The Lord hath talked with me ?" He went his way; behind him The shrines of saintly dead, The holy coat and nail of cross, He left unvisited.
He sought the vale of Eltzbach His burdened soul to free, Where the foot-hills of the Eifel Are glassed in Laachersee.
And, in his Order's kloster, He sat, in night-long parle, With Tauler of the Friends of God, And Nicolas of Basle.
And lo! the twain made answer "Yea, brother, even thus The Voice above all voices Hath spoken unto us.
"The world will have its idols, And flesh and sense their sign But the blinded eyes shall open, And the gross ear be fine.
"What if the vision tarry?
God's time is always best; The true Light shall be witnessed, The Christ within confessed.
"In mercy or in judgment He shall turn and overturn, Till the heart shall be His temple Where all of Him shall learn." INSCRIPTIONS.
ON A SUN-DIAL.
FOR DR.

HENRY I.BOWDITCH.
With warning hand I mark Time's rapid flight From life's glad morning to its solemn night; Yet, through the dear God's love, I also show There's Light above me by the Shade below.
1879.
ON A FOUNTAIN.
FOR DOROTHEA L.DIX.
Stranger and traveller, Drink freely and bestow A kindly thought on her Who bade this fountain flow, Yet hath no other claim Than as the minister Of blessing in God's name.
Drink, and in His peace go 1879 THE MINISTER'S DAUGHTER.
In the minister's morning sermon He had told of the primal fall, And how thenceforth the wrath of God Rested on each and all.
And how of His will and pleasure, All souls, save a chosen few, Were doomed to the quenchless burning, And held in the way thereto.
Yet never by faith's unreason A saintlier soul was tried, And never the harsh old lesson A tenderer heart belied.
And, after the painful service On that pleasant Sabbath day, He walked with his little daughter Through the apple-bloom of May.
Sweet in the fresh green meadows Sparrow and blackbird sung; Above him their tinted petals The blossoming orchards hung.
Around on the wonderful glory The minister looked and smiled; "How good is the Lord who gives us These gifts from His hand, my child.
"Behold in the bloom of apples And the violets in the sward A hint of the old, lost beauty Of the Garden of the Lord!" Then up spake the little maiden, Treading on snow and pink "O father! these pretty blossoms Are very wicked, I think.
"Had there been no Garden of Eden There never had been a fall; And if never a tree had blossomed God would have loved us all." "Hush, child!" the father answered, "By His decree man fell; His ways are in clouds and darkness, But He doeth all things well.
"And whether by His ordaining To us cometh good or ill, Joy or pain, or light or shadow, We must fear and love Him still." "Oh, I fear Him!" said the daughter, "And I try to love Him, too; But I wish He was good and gentle, Kind and loving as you." The minister groaned in spirit As the tremulous lips of pain And wide, wet eyes uplifted Questioned his own in vain.
Bowing his head he pondered The words of the little one; Had he erred in his life-long teaching?
Had he wrong to his Master done?
To what grim and dreadful idol Had he lent the holiest name?
Did his own heart, loving and human, The God of his worship shame?
And lo! from the bloom and greenness, From the tender skies above, And the face of his little daughter, He read a lesson of love.
No more as the cloudy terror Of Sinai's mount of law, But as Christ in the Syrian lilies The vision of God he saw.
And, as when, in the clefts of Horeb, Of old was His presence known, The dread Ineffable Glory Was Infinite Goodness alone.
Thereafter his hearers noted In his prayers a tenderer strain, And never the gospel of hatred Burned on his lips again.
And the scoffing tongue was prayerful, And the blinded eyes found sight, And hearts, as flint aforetime, Grew soft in his warmth and light.
1880.
BY THEIR WORKS.
Call him not heretic whose works attest His faith in goodness by no creed confessed.
Whatever in love's name is truly done To free the bound and lift the fallen one Is done to Christ.

Whoso in deed and word Is not against Him labors for our Lord.
When He, who, sad and weary, longing sore For love's sweet service, sought the sisters' door, One saw the heavenly, one the human guest, But who shall say which loved the Master best?
1881.
THE WORD.
Voice of the Holy Spirit, making known Man to himself, a witness swift and sure, Warning, approving, true and wise and pure, Counsel and guidance that misleadeth none! By thee the mystery of life is read; The picture-writing of the world's gray seers, The myths and parables of the primal years, Whose letter kills, by thee interpreted Take healthful meanings fitted to our needs, And in the soul's vernacular express The common law of simple righteousness.
Hatred of cant and doubt of human creeds May well be felt: the unpardonable sin Is to deny the Word of God within! 1881.
THE BOOK.
Gallery of sacred pictures manifold, A minster rich in holy effigies, And bearing on entablature and frieze The hieroglyphic oracles of old.
Along its transept aureoled martyrs sit; And the low chancel side-lights half acquaint The eye with shrines of prophet, bard, and saint, Their age-dimmed tablets traced in doubtful writ! But only when on form and word obscure Falls from above the white supernal light We read the mystic characters aright, And life informs the silent portraiture, Until we pause at last, awe-held, before The One ineffable Face, love, wonder, and adore.
1881 REQUIREMENT.
We live by Faith; but Faith is not the slave Of text and legend.

Reason's voice and God's, Nature's and Duty's, never are at odds.
What asks our Father of His children, save Justice and mercy and humility, A reasonable service of good deeds, Pure living, tenderness to human needs, Reverence and trust, and prayer for light to see The Master's footprints in our daily ways?
No knotted scourge nor sacrificial knife, But the calm beauty of an ordered life Whose very breathing is unworded praise!-- A life that stands as all true lives have stood, Firm-rooted in the faith that God is Good.
1881.
HELP.
Dream not, O Soul, that easy is the task Thus set before thee.

If it proves at length, As well it may, beyond thy natural strength, Faint not, despair not.