A Celtic Psaltery Part 28

Heaven overhead is one frown; About me the black waters rave; To the deep I go dreadfully down; O pluck my feet out of the grave; Lord! I am sinking, I drown, O save, for Thou only canst save.

IMMORTAL HOPE

Summer hath too short a date Autumn enters, ah! how soon, Scattering with scornful hate All the flowers of June.

Nay say not so, Nothing here below But dies To rise Anew with rarer glow.

Now, no skylarks singing soar Sunward, now, beneath the moon Love's own nightingale no more Lifts her magic tune!

Nay, say not so, But awhile they go; Their strain Again All heaven shall overflow.

WE HAD A CHILD

We had a child, a little Fairy Prince, Let loose from Elfland for our heart's delight; Ah! was it yesterday or four years since He beamed upon our sight?

Four years--and yet it seems but yesterday Since the blue wonder of his baby eyes.

Beneath their ebon-fringed canopies, Subdued us to his sway.

Three years--and yet but yestermorn it seems Since first upon his feet he swaying stood, Buoyed bravely up by memory's magic dreams Of elfin hardihood.

He stood, the while that long-forgotten lore Lit all his lovely face with frolic glee; And then--O marvel! to his mother's knee Walked the wide nursery floor.

Two years gone by--ah, no! but yesterday Our bright-eyed nursling, swift as we could teach, Forsook the low soft croonings of the fay For broken human speech-- Broken, yet to our ears divinelier broken Than sweetest s.n.a.t.c.hes from Heaven's mounting bird-- More eloquent than the poet's pa.s.sionate word Supremely sung or spoken.

But O, our darling in his joyful dance Tottered death-pale beneath the withering north, Into a kinder clime, most blessed chance, We caught him swiftly forth, And there he bloomed again, our fairy boy, Two year-long Aprils through in sun and shower, Wing-footed Mercury of each merry hour, The Genius of our joy.

And evermore we shared his shifting mood Of hide-and-seek with April joy and sorrow, Till not one shadow of solicitude Remained to mar our morrow; Yea, every fear had flown, lest, welladay!

The headlong heats or winter's piercing power Should light afresh upon our radiant flower And wither him away.

We had a child, a little fairy child, He kissed us on the lips but yesternight, Yet when he wakened his blue eyes were wild With fevered light.

We had a child--what countless ages since, Did he go forth from us with wildered brain, Will he come back and kiss us once again-- Our little Fairy Prince?

BY THE BEDSIDE OF A SICK CHILD

O Thou by whose eternal plan Ages arise and roll, Who in Thine image madest man To search him to the soul, If e'er in token of the Cross, With infant arms outspread, Thou sawest Thy Beloved toss In anguish on His bed; Or heardest in the childish cry That pierced the cottage room The voice of Christ in agony Breaking from Calvary's gloom, Give ear! and from Thy Throne above With eyes of mercy mild, Look down, of Thine immortal love, Upon our suffering child.

Though Earth's physicians all in vain Have urged their utmost skill, Yet to our prayers O make it plain That Thou canst succour still; Yea! through the midnight watches drear, And all the weary day, O be Thy Good Physician near Our stricken one to stay; That evermore as we succeed In service at his side, Each office of our darling's need His heavenly hands may guide; Till o'er his tempest bed of pain, His cry of perishing thrill The Saviour's arm go forth again, The Saviour's "Peace! be still."

Too well, O Lord, too well we know How oft upon Thy way Our feet have followed faint and slow, How often turned astray For fleeting pleasures to forsake Thy path of heavenly prayer; We have deserved that Thou shouldst take Our children from our care.

Yet, O Good Shepherd, lead us back, Our lamb upon Thy breast, Safely along the narrow track, Across the dangerous crest; Until our aching eyes rejoice At Salem's shining walls, And to our thirsting souls a Voice Of Living Waters calls.

HE HAS COME BACK

Without the wintry sky is overcast, The floods descend, fierce hail and rushing rain, Whilst ever and anon the angry blast Clutches the cas.e.m.e.nt-pane.

Within our darling beats an angrier air With piteous outstretched arms and tossing head, Whilst we, bowed low beside his labouring bed, Pour all our hearts in prayer.

Is this the end? The tired little hands Fall by his side, the wild eyes close at last, Breathless he sinks, almost we hear his sands Of being ebbing past; When, O miraculous! he wakes once more, Love glowing in his glance, the while there slips "Mother, dear Mother!" from his trembling lips, "Dear Mother!" o'er and o'er.

He has come back, our little Fairy Child, Back from his wanderings in the dreadful dark, Back o'er the furious surge of fever wild, The lost dove of our ark; Back, slowly back o'er the dire flood's decrease The white wings flutter, only our G.o.d knows how, Bearing aloft the blessed olive bough Of His compa.s.sionate peace.

SPRING'S SECRETS

As once I paused on poet wing In the green heart of a grove, I met the Spirit of the Spring With her great eyes lit of love.

She took me gently by the hand And whispered in my wondering ear Secrets none may understand, Till she make their meaning clear;

Why the primrose looks so pale, Why the rose is set with thorns; Why the magic nightingale Through the darkness mourns and mourns;

How the angels, as they pa.s.s In their vesture pure and white O'er the shadowy garden gra.s.s, Touch the lilies into light;

How their hidden hands upbear The fledgling throstle in the air, And lift the lowly lark on high, And hold him singing in the sky;

What human hearts delight her most; The careless child with roses crowned, The mourner, knowing that his lost Shall in the Eternal Spring be found.

THE LORD'S LEISURE

Tarry thou the leisure of the Lord!

Ever the wise upon Him wait; Early they sorrow, suffer late, Yet at the last have their reward.

Shall then the very King sublime Keep thee and me in constant thought, Out of the countless names of naught Swept on the surging stream of time?