Lays from the West Part 18

Worn and wearied on earth's road Oft with stumbling feet I go; Eyes that fain would look to G.o.d Dim and weak with sin and woe.

But when, all my guilty stains Rise in dread immensity, Then I know my Saviour's pains Took the load of guilt from me.

Pardoned, healed, redeemed, restored, Then I look to Christ, my Lord!

When the clouds of sorrow rise, And the light of woe is dim, When the subtle Tempter tries To win back my soul to him.

Then I look to One Who said, "All things I have overcome; Onward go, be not afraid I shall guide to yonder Home!"

Then what evil can betide While I lean on Christ, my Guide?

Worn with toil of earthly strife-- Wearied hands and heart grown faint, Tired of all the ills of life, For the water brooks I pant, Then above the world's wild din, I can hear "Come unto Me; I shall heal these wounds of sin, Give you rest, and make you free!"

When my doubting soul is blest When I look to Christ my Rest.

Journeying o'er this path of tears Oft my doubting heart is cold, Far away my Home appears-- The gates of pearl--the street of gold.

Can I ever enter there?

All the way with danger rife,-- Then the Master's voice I hear,

"I am the Way, the Truth, the Life!

Ah! what doubt can then dismay While I walk with Christ, the Way!

"Looking unto Jesus" still I can bid my doubting cease, Joyful, though beset with ill, Fighting, yet at perfect peace-- Sorrowful, yet filled with joy, Tossed, yet feeling all secure; Earth nor h.e.l.l cannot annoy While my peace with Him is sure!

"Looking unto Jesus," blest!

Soul at anchor, heart at rest!

BY THE WAVES.

A merry leap on the sunny air, And a gleam of tresses, golden bright; A 'witching face that is wonderous fair, A creature of beauty and joy and light.

A rocky coast with the waves at play, Wild wandering waves that are mad with glee; "Tell me, what do the wild waves say, Are their words in their music?" she asks of me.

I start and shiver, my heart grows cold, Aye, cold in the flush of the August sun, Whose glory lies on the sea like gold, In farewell radiance, ere day is done.

The eager smile from her lips has died, For the pain on my face was plain to see, And she turns to pace the sand by my side Watching the billows silently.

She does not know--could my darling dream, Of lost, dead love in her golden world, Where the hope-flowers bloom, and the joy-lights gleam 'Neath the rosy light of Love's flag unfurled!

Oh! girlie mine, with the true brown eyes, And the perfect faith in your fair to be, Could I lead you back o'er the bridge of sighs That spans the gulf 'tween the past and me.

I could show you love in its full-tide swell, Its syren beauty its dream-world light; Then, the gathering storm, and the deep-toned knell, As Love lies bleeding in clouds and night!

Would you step aside from the shining coils That circle to-day round your dainty feet, Could I show you the woes without the wiles, In the dregs of that chalice, bitter-sweet?

Ah! no, sweet maid, you must "live and learn,"

Though experience is bought, it cannot be sold; And the heart joy's thrill, and the heartache's burn, Must needs be felt, they were never told!

So live and smile in your fair to-day And wear the jewel of maiden-faith; May its diadem gleam on your brow for aye, And Truth with your Love walks in step with death.

IN MEMORIAM.

A. S.

Oh! land of partings, brief and sad probation-- When all is brightest, then farewell must come!

And the lone mourner weeps in desolation, Earth's fairest seeping in the silent tomb.

Far from her home, where kindly hands have tendered As graceful tribute, to her well-loved name; Not by chill stranger-feeling coldly rendered, But by the care respect and love can claim.

And still her memory shall be loved and cherished, By all who knew her in her sojourn here; Like some fair flower that in the morning perished In spring's bright hours when skies were blue and clear

Oh' widowed mother-heart! dead e'en to hoping Longing to leave the life whence joy has flown.

The eager hands through earth's grim shadows groping!

"Darling, come back to me, I am alone!"

Oh! yearning heart-cry, in deep anguish spoken, In sleepless midnights, or in twilight dreams!

Oh! aching pain-throb of the spirit broken, Soon shall these clouds be pierced by Mercy's beams.

These deep, dense clouds of anguish and repining-- Darkness and gloom that but the present show E'en now, behind them, in the brightness shining.

Wait angel-bands that minister to woe.

Soon shall they come, and bring the consolation, When the first burst of agony is o'er, Then when thy soul is calmed by resignation, Point to the meeting on the other sh.o.r.e:--

Where safe at home, in Christ's eternal keeping, Celestial joy her ransomed being fills, She waits, when thou hast left this vale of weeping To greet thee on the Everlasting Hills.

CHRISTMAS.

FIFTY YEARS AGO.

Christmas! why child, can this be Christmas Eve?

Ah, me! the years run swiftly on; Threads in the warp of this short life we live.

And now my chequered web is well nigh spun.

And Christmas seems not what it used to be,-- The good old customs all are changed, I wean; Yet memory of old times is left with me-- The days whose brightness these dimm'd eyes have seen.

Come, Elsie, bring your stool beside my chair, Stir up the fire to shine with brighter glow, And while it flickers on your sunny hair, I'll tell a Christmas-tale of long ago--

Full fifty years ago, when I was young, And this grey hair like yours was golden-bright, When mirth and laughter dwelt on brow and tongue, In fleet winged hours, that sped with magic flight.

Sometimes, in waking dreams it all comes back,-- Familiar forms move softly through the room, Then leave me, gliding up the moonlight track, Wafting sweet music down the twilight gloom.

And at these times I see the home that stood, In the lone highland valley far away; The snow-crowned hills, the lake, the lonely wood, Through which I wandered many a summer day.

And I was happy in those summers, child!-- Life in its morning brightness knows not gloom, The rose-tinged future-mists hide waste and wild As sharp thorns hide beneath the rose's bloom.