Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell Part 24

IN MEMORY OF A HAPPY DAY IN FEBRUARY.

Blessed be Thou for all the joy My soul has felt to-day!

Oh, let its memory stay with me, And never pa.s.s away!

I was alone, for those I loved Were far away from me; The sun shone on the withered gra.s.s, The wind blew fresh and free.

Was it the smile of early spring That made my bosom glow?

'Twas sweet; but neither sun nor wind Could cheer my spirit so.

Was it some feeling of delight All vague and undefined?

No; 'twas a rapture deep and strong, Expanding in the mind.

Was it a sanguine view of life, And all its transient bliss, A hope of bright prosperity?

Oh, no! it was not this.

It was a glimpse of truth divine Unto my spirit given, Illumined by a ray of light That shone direct from heaven.

I felt there was a G.o.d on high, By whom all things were made; I saw His wisdom and His power In all his works displayed.

But most throughout the moral world, I saw his glory shine; I saw His wisdom infinite, His mercy all divine.

Deep secrets of His providence, In darkness long concealed, Unto the vision of my soul Were graciously revealed.

But while I wondered and adored His Majesty divine, I did not tremble at His power: I felt that G.o.d was mine;

I knew that my Redeemer lived; I did not fear to die; Full sure that I should rise again To immortality.

I longed to view that bliss divine, Which eye hath never seen; Like Moses, I would see His face Without the veil between.

CONFIDENCE.

Oppressed with sin and woe, A burdened heart I bear, Opposed by many a mighty foe; But I will not despair.

With this polluted heart, I dare to come to Thee, Holy and mighty as Thou art, For Thou wilt pardon me.

I feel that I am weak, And p.r.o.ne to every sin; But Thou who giv'st to those who seek, Wilt give me strength within.

Far as this earth may be From yonder starry skies; Remoter still am I from Thee: Yet Thou wilt not despise.

I need not fear my foes, I deed not yield to care; I need not sink beneath my woes, For Thou wilt answer prayer.

In my Redeemer's name, I give myself to Thee; And, all unworthy as I am, My G.o.d will cherish me.

My sister Anne had to taste the cup of life as it is mixed for the cla.s.s termed "Governesses."

The following are some of the thoughts that now and then solace a governess:--

LINES WRITTEN FROM HOME.

Though bleak these woods, and damp the ground, With fallen leaves so thickly strewn, And cold the wind that wanders round With wild and melancholy moan;

There is a friendly roof I know, Might shield me from the wintry blast; There is a fire whose ruddy glow Will cheer me for my wanderings past.

And so, though still where'er I go Cold stranger glances meet my eye; Though, when my spirit sinks in woe, Unheeded swells the unbidden sigh;

Though solitude, endured too long, Bids youthful joys too soon decay, Makes mirth a stranger to my tongue, And overclouds my noon of day;

When kindly thoughts that would have way Flow back, discouraged, to my breast, I know there is, though far away, A home where heart and soul may rest.

Warm hands are there, that, clasped in mine, The warmer heart will not belie; While mirth and truth, and friendship shine In smiling lip and earnest eye.

The ice that gathers round my heart May there be thawed; and sweetly, then, The joys of youth, that now depart, Will come to cheer my soul again.

Though far I roam, that thought shall be My hope, my comfort everywhere; While such a home remains to me, My heart shall never know despair.

THE NARROW WAY.

Believe not those who say The upward path is smooth, Lest thou shouldst stumble in the way, And faint before the truth.

It is the only road Unto the realms of joy; But he who seeks that blest abode Must all his powers employ.

Bright hopes and pure delight Upon his course may beam, And there, amid the sternest heights, The sweetest flowerets gleam.

On all her breezes borne, Earth yields no scents like those; But he that dares not gasp the thorn Should never crave the rose.

Arm--arm thee for the fight!

Cast useless loads away; Watch through the darkest hours of night; Toil through the hottest day.

Crush pride into the dust, Or thou must needs be slack; And trample down rebellious l.u.s.t, Or it will hold thee back.

Seek not thy honour here; Waive pleasure and renown; The world's dread scoff undaunted bear, And face its deadliest frown.

To labour and to love, To pardon and endure, To lift thy heart to G.o.d above, And keep thy conscience pure;

Be this thy constant aim, Thy hope, thy chief delight; What matter who should whisper blame Or who should scorn or slight?

What matter, if thy G.o.d approve, And if, within thy breast, Thou feel the comfort of His love, The earnest of His rest?