Poems by Rebekah Smith Part 23

Guilty, condemned, I trembling stand, With pressing cares on every hand, Without one single plea to make, For leaving such a _bad mistake_.

From morn till night, from night till morn, At every step, weary, forlorn, Whether I sleep, or whether wake, I'm haunted still with _a mistake_.

If right, no meed of praise is won, No more than _duty_ then is done; If wrong, then censure I partake, Deserving such a gross mistake.

How long shall I o'er this bewail?

"The best," 'tis said, "will sometimes fail;"

Must it then _peace_ forever break-- Summed up, 'tis only _a mistake_.

A smile is my delight to share, A frown is more than I can bear; How great the sacrifice I'd make, If I could cease from a mistake.

"I'll try," my motto yet shall be-- Whate'er I hear, whate'er I see, And for my own and others' sakes, Look out betimes _for all mistakes_.

Lines to H. N. S.

On the Reception of a Rose.

O sweet, lovely flower, For me didst thou bloom In a far distant bower, My path to perfume?

For me wast thou nourished, In that dear, quiet spot, To tell when thou flourished, I was not forgot?

Thine image, loved sister, In fancy I trace, And joy in the vision, To greet thine embrace; But here I have never Thy hand clasped in mine; Yet round us forever, Affection shall twine.

And oft this fond token Shall whisper to me, Of friendship unbroken, In remembrance of thee.

Its freshness may perish; But ne'er can depart Its fragrance I cherish So deep in my heart.

Lines

Composed by Annie R. Smith, the day but one before her death.

Oh! shed not a tear o'er the spot where I sleep; For the living and not for the dead ye may weep; Why mourn for the weary who sweetly repose, Free in the grave from life's burden of woes?

I long now to rest in the lone, quiet tomb; For the footsteps of Jesus have lightened its gloom.

I die in the hope of soon meeting again The friends that I love, with Him ever to reign.

POEMS, BY URIAH SMITH.

The Willing and Obedient.

"If ye be willing and obedient, ye shall eat the good of the land." Isa. 1:19.

Whose is a willing heart, Whose is a ready hand; Joyful in Jesus' cause to start, Joyful for him to stand?

Whose breast with ardor glows, The conflict to begin; Warring, but not with carnal foes, Wrestling with every sin?

Who when the cross appears, Hasten its weight to bear; Glad, though it be through thorns and tears, The cross of Christ to share?

Who at stern duty's call, Unbound by selfish will, Meekly resign their earthly all, Its bidding to fulfill?

Who with unyielding feet, When storms around them roar, Shrink not the scorn and hate to meet Which Christ their Saviour bore: Deeming of higher worth, Their Lord's reproaches now, Than all the cankered gold of earth, To which the worldlings bow?

Whose is a willing heart?

And who obedient stand?

To them shall Heaven its joys impart, To them the goodly land.

For them the City waits, Unstained by woe or sin, And as they come, the pearly gates Shall ope to let them in.

Be Not Cast Down.

Tempted, tried, desponding one, Why does darkness shade thy brow?

Is there no all-beaming sun In the heavens above thee now?

Is the cloud of radiant light, Glowing round th' Eternal throne, Shrouded in a pall of night, Or in outer darkness gone?

Is the fount of glory dried?

Are the gates of mercy closed?

Went there ever unsupplied, Any who in G.o.d reposed?

Has his arm grown short to save?

Heavy is his ear to hear?

Bids he any be a slave To despair or doubt or fear?

Then may we refuse to move, When his word and mighty arm, Weak and impotent shall prove, To deliver us from harm.

Then may we despondent be, And in him refuse to trust, When his throne and majesty Both shall crumble to the dust.

Has not help on One been laid Strong to save and set us free?

And is there no promise made, In his name, of victory?

Then in Jesus let us trust; On him stay our troubled mind: Not presume; for G.o.d is just: Nor despair; for he is kind.