Poems of the Heart and Home Part 10

"Though thy fair Earth has been Blood-dyed for ages, Though in her valleys green, Carnage still rages, Thou, o'er whose brow serene, Calmest and Holiest!

Angel has never seen, E'en toward Earth's lowliest, Shadows impatient sweep Teach me, like thee, to keep In my soul, still and deep, Wavering never, Patience--a steady light, Burning forever!"

A PARTING HYMN.

Father in Heaven, to thee, Guardian and friend, Lowly the suppliant knee Here would we bend!-- Blessing thee ere we part, Each with a grateful heart, For all thy love doth send-- Plenteous and free!

Thanks for thy hand outspread Ever in power O'er each defenceless head In danger's hour!

Thanks for the light arid love, From thy full fount above-- A rich and constant shower, O'er us still shed!

Go thou with us, we pray, Whom duties call To our high tasks away, Each one, and all,-- Go, with thy Spirit's might, Go, with thy Gospel's light --Whatever may befall-- With us alway

Now let thy blessing rest On us anew-- Brother, and friend, and guest, Tried ones and true-- Till, all Our pirtings o'er, Meeting, to part no more, In Heaven we renew Friendships so blest

THE DANCE OF THE WINDS

The Wind G.o.d, Eolus, sat one morn In his cavern of tempests, quite forlorn, He'd been ill of a fever a month and a day, And the sun had been having things all his own way, Pouring o'er earth such a torrent of heat That the meadows were dry as the trampled street, And people were panting, and ready to die Of the fire that blazed from the pitiless sky

But the King felt better that hot June day, So he said to himself "I will get up a play Among the children by way of a change, No doubt they are-feeling, like me, very strange At this dreary confinement--a month and more, And never once stirring at all out of door!

It is terribly wearisome keeping so still-- They all shall go out for a dance on the hill."

Then aloud he spake, and the dreary hall Re-echoed hoa.r.s.ely his hollow call: "Ho! Boreas, Auster, Eurus, ho!

And you, too, dainty-winged Zephyrus, go And have a dance on the hills to-day, And I'll sit here and enjoy your play."

Then Boreas started with such a roar That the King, his father, was troubled sore, And peevishly muttered within himself-- "He'll burst his throat, the unmannerly elf!"

But Auster, angry at seeing his brother Astart of him, broke away with another As fearful a yell from the opposite side Of the wind-cave, gloomy, and long, and wide.

One from the South, and one from the North, The rough-tempered brothers went shrieking forth; And faster, and faster, and faster still, They swept o'er valley, and forest, and hill.

The clouds affrighted before them flew, From white swift changing to black or blue; But, failing to'scape the a.s.sailants' ire, Fell afoul of each other in conflict dire.

Now hot, now cold--what a strife was there!

Till the crashing hailstones smote the air, And men and women in country and town Were hastily closing their windows down, And shutting doors with a crash and a bang, While the raindrops beat, and the hailstones rang, And the lightnings glared from the fiery eyes Of the furious combatants up in the skies, And burst in thunder-claps far and near, Making the timorous shake with fear.

Then Eolus with affright grew cold, For his blood, you'll remember, is thin and old, And his turbulent sons such an uproar made, That, watching the conflict, he grew afraid Lest in the rage of their desperate fight, The pair should finish each other outright.

So he shouted to Eurus; "Away! away!

Come up from the East by the shortest way, And try and part them; and you, too, go, Zephyrus!--why are you loitering so?"

Then away sped Eurus shrieking so loud That he startled a lazy, half-slumbering cloud, That fled before him white in the face, And dashed away at a furious pace.

But he drove it fiercely betwixt the two, Who parted, and, scarce knowing what to do, Descended, and each from an opposite place Began to fling dirt in the other one's face.

Then round, and round, and round again, They raced and chased over valley and plain, Catching up, in their mischievous whirls, The hats of boys and the bonnets of girls,-- Tossing up feathers, and leaves, and sticks, Knocking down chimneys, and scattering bricks, Levelling fences and pulling up trees, Till Eolus--oftentimes hard to please-- Clapped his hands as his wine he quaffed, And laughed as he never before had laughed

Cried Eurus;--"Ho, ho!--so this furious fight Ends up in a romp and a frolic!--all right-- I am in for a share!" Then away went he, And joined with a will in the boisterous glee, Till, out of breath, ere the sun went down, They all fell asleep in the forest brown.

A full hour afterwards, ambling along, Came dainty Zephyrus humming a song, And pausing--the truant--to kiss each flower That blushed in garden, or field, or bower.

But no one was left to be merry with him, So he danced with the leaves till the light grew dim, And, as Twilight was going to sleep in the west, He, too, fell asleep on a rose's breast.

STRIKE THE CHORDS SOFTLY

Strike the chords softly with tremulous fingers, While, on the threshold of happiest years, For a brief moment fond memory lingers, Ere we go forth to life's conflicts and fears!

Strike the chords softly!--yet no, as we tarry, Swiftly the morning is gliding away; Weary ones droop 'neath the burdens they carry, Toiling ones faint in the heat of the day.

Let us not linger!--Earth's millions are crying "Come to us, aid us, we grope in the night!

Come to us, aid us, we're perishing, dying-- Give us, oh, give us, the heavenly Light!"

Let us not linger!--our brethren are calling,-- "Aid us, the harvest increases each day;-- Some have grown weary, alas, of their toiling!-- Others have pa.s.sed from their labors away."

Gracious Redeemer we go at thy bidding, Gladly encountering peril and loss; Take us--ourselves to thy work we are giving, Giveus--'tis more than we merit--_thy cross!_

AT HOME

I thought it pleasant when a manly sire Weary of foreign travel, at the door Of his own cottage left his dusty staff, And entering in, sat down with those he loved Beside the hearth of home;--and pleasant, too, When a fond mother, absent for a day, At eve returning, from the sunset hill That overlooked her cot, descried her boys Flying with joyous feet along the path To greet her coming; and, with clasping hands Of baby welcome, lead her through the gate Of her sweet home.

Pleasant I deemed it, too, When a young man, a wanderer for years From those he loved, at length sat down again With sire and mother in the twilight hour At home;--and when a gentle daughter, long From mother's kiss and father's blessing far, Heard once again their ne'er forgotten tones Giving her joyous welcome home again, I felt that life had few such joys as that.

And yet, methought there was--canst tell me why-- Thou, who in Earth alone hast found thy bliss?-- A higher, sweeter, purer joy than those, When, free from sin and Earth's enc.u.mb'ring cares, A ransomed soul went home to be with Christ.

I knew a man in life's strong; healthful prime-- Aye more, the flush of youth was on his brow, And all his bounding pulses were astir With the great joy of work for G.o.d, while hope-- Such hope as only Heaven-taught manhood fires To loftiest ambition--pointed down The radiant vista of the coming years To deeds immortal. But the Master called, And, in mid-race he heard--"Come home, my child!"-- And paused, and listened in surprise and doubt.

"Come home my child!" Then, listening, I heard The pale lips murmur, while the head was bent In reverent submission--"Oh, so soon?-- So soon, my Lord? Thou knowest there is much I fain would do for thee!--thy precious lambs To gather and to feed--thy sheep to lead In quiet pastures, and thy name beloved To herald forth, till Earth's remotest sh.o.r.e Shall thrill with rapture, and send up to thee The new-born utterance of love's great joy!"

"Come home, dear child!"--again the Master's voice-- And eagerly he flung his robe aside, Ungirt his loins, and cast his sandals by; And while he sweetly sang--"I love the Lord!"-- Entered the peaceful river, and went o'er, To be forever with the Lord he loved.

----------------------I knew an aged man, Yet one scarce bent, with fresh, luxuriant hair So beautifully white, and clear, blue, loving eyes;-- We almost worshipped that most princely man In his pure, patriarchal beauty. But one day A whisper came to him. It was so low We heard it not, nor knew till he was gone-- Gone home! Our sun was set on earth, Yet risen in Heaven; and through our falling tears We saw our loved at home, thenceforth to be Forever with the Lord--Oh, highest bliss-- Forever with his Lord!

Our mother slept At eve in a poor, earthly home. At dawn She stood upon the golden sh.o.r.e, a sainted one, A victor crowned. We wept, as well we might, When we looked down upon those folded hands Whose tender touch had often thrilled along Our baby temples,--those pale, patient hands That toiled for us what time sweet slumber lay On our young eyelids, and in sunny dreams We gathered wild flowers on the hill-side green, Or chased the b.u.t.terfly 'mid orchard blooms, While she, till the night waned, toiled bravely on-- Not for herself, but us, then knelt and prayed For each young sleeper, ere herself might sleep.

This morn she slept, and every line that grief Had ever left on her pale, settled face, And every furrow care had ever traced Upon her brow had faded in the calm Of that blest slumber. Did we softly tread, And hold our breath suspended, in vague fear Of breaking the sweet spell, or all too soon Rousing those tired feet to tread again Their round of daily toil?--or did we check Our rising grief, lest one o'er-lab'ring sob From hearts so full, should banish the sweet smile Which the glad vision of her Lord's dear face Had left upon her lips? It may be so,-- And yet the hour of weeping was not long; For, 'mid the light by mortal eyes unpierced, We caught the gleam of her unsullied robe, And we rejoiced, beholding her _at home_!

A little babe, a tiny, broken bud, A snow-white, breathless lamb lay still and cold Upon its mother's knees. She did not weep-- She did not pray; but with white, trembling lips And stony gaze looked down upon her child, And only moaned in gasping accents--"dead!

My tender babe, my lamb, my own sweet boy!-- Dead, silent, dead!"

Then sweet, as borne O'er silver seas, there came a voice that said, "_Do not their angels evermore behold My Father's face in Heaven?_"--and, swift as thought, Faith overswept the bounds of s.p.a.ce, and caught A glimpse of her beloved on Jesus' breast Then tears gushed forth--a precious, healing flood-- And the lips murmured--"Safe, oh, safe at home!-- My bright boy waits at home, thank G.o.d, for me!"

Then let us ever when the righteous die Speak of them joyously as gone before; Not dead, but sweetly drawn within the veil To the blest home we're nearing--to the house Of Christ our Elder Brother, mansion fair, Prepared and set in order by His hand,-- Their home, and ours to be; forevermore