Gleams of Sunshine Part 1

Gleams of Sunshine.

by Joseph Horatio Chant.

INVOCATION

_O Thou, who art the source of joy and light, The great Revealer of the will Divine; Thyself Divine, all nature owns Thy might, And bows in homage at a beck of Thine, Afford me light to guide my unskilled hand, And by Thy Spirit all my thoughts command.

To Thy great name I dedicate my powers, Yielding to Thee what Thou with blood hast bought, Resolved that Thou shalt have my days and hours, And for Thy sake shall every work be wrought; O deign to use me, if it be Thy will, And my poor heart with love and gladness fill.

If this strange impulse which I feel within To write this book proceeds, O Lord, from Thee, Let it not die, nor be defiled by sin, But let the work from self and sin be free, And prove a guide to home and bliss above, And help to fill this warring world with love.

The Master's touch I know it sadly lacks, And may not please the nice artistic taste Of some fine mind that naught but gold attracts; Some may not count these iron-filings waste; Like magnets, to which gold will not adhere, May they find ore in this to bless and cheer.

In this plain pitcher, Lord, Thy blessing pour, That from it men their raging thirst may slake, And when exhausted is the scanty store, Then let the earthen vessel quickly break; Its end is gained if Thou art glorified, And men have learned to love the Christ who died.

As flowers drink in the solar rays and dew, And in return give bloom and odors sweet, So would I to Thy Spirit's touch prove true, And render that return which seemeth meet; Come, dews of grace! Great Sun, illume my heart!

That I to some sad soul may joy impart._

FATHER OF UNIVERSAL MAN

Father of Universal Man, Where'er in this wide world he roam, Not known to thee by kith or clan, Nor height, nor breadth of mental dome, Nor babbling tongue, nor sounding creed, But by his woe and common need.

The pushing Anglo-Saxon race, The Celts with wealth of heart and mind, The Esquimaux of leaden face, The Arabs whom no chain can bind, With hardy Boers and all the rest, Are with one common Father blest.

And all are brothers, though at times Our flashing swords obscure the sun.

We ring aloud our Christmas chimes, But louder sounds the booming gun, And brother is by brother slain, And kindred ties are rent in twain.

Yet Thou art true whate'er betide; Thy heart o'er human woe doth melt; For men of every race Christ died, And, as a zone, Thy love would belt All human kind from pole to pole Into one grand, harmonious whole.

Men war with men in every clime, Commotions rock this earthly ball; Our souls are covered o'er with grime-- Sad fruits of our Adamic fall, But grace shall triumph in the end, And good the evil far transcend.

Thy throne remains forever firm, And here, amidst the strife of men, We find with joy a heavenly germ Which shall re-stock this world again With fruitful plants of righteousness, If Thou, O G.o.d, but deign to bless.

Help us that we may not deny Our brotherhood in hour of strife; When swords shall from their scabbards fly, And great the sacrifice of life, May we in pity o'er them bend, And help to wounded foe extend.

If we are working out Thy plan, Give our brave soldiers arms of steel, And may each prove himself a man-- To G.o.d and to his nation leal, And never falter in the fight, But die, if need be, for the right.

May right prevail in this dread war, Though we be humbled in the dust; To fail our end is better far Then gain it, if it be unjust, But if our aims with Thine agree-- We trust--and leave results with Thee.

The world moves on; let none essay To block it in its onward course, Lest they like chaff be swept away As by a supernatural force; For laggards progress does not wait-- Keep pace with time or bide your fate.

May our brave foes rise in defeat To higher form of liberty; And Freedom's flag, as seemeth meet, Wave over all from sea to sea; Pushed on as by the hand of fate To nationhood, both firm and great.

G.o.d'S PLAN IS BEST

Thy plan is best, though it may not agree With my conceptions of my needs and rights, And faith may fail to scale its azure heights; Yet still I trust, and leave my cause with Thee.

With single eye I sought to do Thy will.

I felt Thy smile and left results with Thee; If they have failed, then that is naught to me-- I did my part, and am Thy servant still.

The hearts of men are in Thy mighty hand; Naught is concealed from Thy all-searching sight; Canst Thou not turn them to the left or right?

The raging ocean calms at Thy command.

The aching clay may circ.u.mscribe my sphere; Yet in confinement I may labor still In work which harmonizes with Thy will, And e'er rejoice to have my Master near.

Thoughts of Thy love will yet remain with me, And in my silent hours may shape a.s.sume, And by their measures help to lift the gloom Of this dark world, and bring men nearer Thee.

Whate'er may come, I will not, Lord, complain; My plan is Thine, I have no other choice.

In work or rest 'tis meet I should rejoice; Contentment in my lot is blessed gain.

CANADA

Dear Canada, our native land, Our love for thee grows day by day; Our fathers left the olden strand, O'er sea and rapids made their way, And by their energy and skill They laid thy firm foundation deep, And sowed the seed o'er vale and hill Which we, their sons, are called to reap.

The wilderness blooms as the rose; The old-time hardships are unknown; And wealth in streams of commerce flows From sea to sea--a nation grown-- Still youthful, but with thews of steel To throttle foes that may arise; Yet loving touch sore hearts to heal, And lift us nearer to the skies.

We cannot boast as blue a sky As smiles o'er many an Alpine plain, Nor are our mountain peaks as high As theirs, yet we have other gain; Our hills are rich in yellow gold, Our plains are broad and fertile too; Our lakes and streams hold wealth untold, And grander forests never grew.

Our sky is bright to healthy eyes; Pure ozone lades the air we breathe; Our climate we have learned to prize; Nor do we o'er our winters grieve; For nature throws her ermine robe O'er purple hills and vales as well; No portion of this earthly globe As gay as this, with sleigh and bell.

But soon the winter wears away, And plants long sheltered now are seen, And April showers and smiling May Soon clothe the earth in living green.

Monotony is thus unknown-- Each season is a glad surprise, In which G.o.d's truth and love are shown, And hope within us never dies.

Our sons, inured to n.o.ble toil, Grow strong in arm and broad in mind; Some stay at home to till the soil, Others in various callings find Their missions--but where'er their place In the great drama of our day, They, as a cla.s.s, win in the race, And the behests of Heaven obey.

The gold of monarchy have we, Without the useless silt and dross; And like our cousins, all are free, Yet we have no election boss.

No union here of Church and State, Yet Church and State full well agree That nations never can be great If they refuse to bow the knee.

We make the nation's weal or woe, As one may shape his future life.

"G.o.d's mill," 'tis said, "grinds fine, tho' slow,"

A fact lost sight of in the strife For place and power in Church and State, And think G.o.d cares not what we do; But to our doubt he whispers "wait,"

And time proves Him both just and true.

From England and from sunny France Our fathers came, long years ago; On Abraham's plain with sword and lance They fought as foes--gave blow for blow.