Poems of the Heart and Home Part 7

When tossed on time's tempestuous tide, By angry storms resistless driven, One hope can bid our fears subside-- It is the hope of rest in Heaven.

With trusting heart we lift our eyes Above the dark clouds, tempest-driven, And view, beyond those troubled skies, The peaceful, stormless rest of Heaven.

No more to shed the exile's tears,-- No more the heart by anguish riven,-- No longer bent 'neath toilful years,-- How sweet will be the rest of Heaven

GOOD NIGHT

Good night, good night!--the day Slowly has borne away, Music and light; Once more the starry train Sweeps over vale and plain, Soft falls the dews again-- Good night-good night!

Day's weary toils are done, Set is the glorious sun, Faded the light;-- Now, to the weary breast Ever a welcome guest,-- Comes the sweet hour of rest-- Good night--good night!

Evening's cool shadows lie Calmly o'er earth and sky; And, from the height Of the far, wooded hill, Sends the lone whip-poor-will, Softer and sweeter still, Plaintive good night.

Gently let slumber lie On every weary eye Tired of the light!

E'en as the folded flowers Sleep in the forest bowers, Rest, through the silent hours-- Good night--good night!

THE OLD CHURCH CHOIR

I am slowly treading the mazy track That leadeth, through sunshine and shadows, back-- Through freshest meads where the dews yet cling As erst they did to each lowly thing, Where flowers bloom and where streamlets flow With the tender music of long ago-- To the far-off past that, through mists of tears, In its spring time loveliness still appears, And wooes me back to the gleaming sh.o.r.e Of sunny years that return no more.

And to night, all weary, and sad, and lone, I return in thought to those bright years flown, Whose lingering sweetness, e'en yet, I feel Like the breath of flower-scents over me steal I am treading o'er mounds where the dead repose,-- I am stirring the dust of life's perished rose,-- I am rustling the withered leaves that lie Thick in the pathway of Memory,-- And calling out from each lonely hill Echoes of voices forever still.

And I pause again where I stood of yore In the Sabbath light at an old church door, And, ling'ring a moment, I turn to view The green hills leaning against the blue As erewhile they stood in the golden calm Of morning's sunlight and breath of balm, With cl.u.s.tering verdure, and blossoming trees, And gush of bird song and hum of bees, And glancing shadows that came and went Of soft clouds high in the firmament, Floating away in their robes of white On snowy pinions through realms of light.

And I see again through the azure sky The same white cloudlets still floating by; And a greener line through the meadow shows Where a little streamlet still, singing, flows; And out from a woodland there floats again Of joyous warblers the old, sweet strain; While still, with serious, reverent air, Aged and young seek the house of prayer.

And with them I enter the narrow door That open stands as it stood of yore; And look up again at the windows tall,-- At the narrow aisles and the naked wall,-- At the high, straight pulpit with cushion red, And its worn, old Bible still open spread,-- At the pews where, unhindered, the slant rays fall,-- At the long, plain gallery over all Where maid and matron, and son and sire, Together sang in the old church-choir.

And again, as I listen, I seem to hear The strains of old, half-forgotten Mear, And solemn China, and grave Dundee, And stately Rockingham, calm and free, And rare Old-Hundred's majestic swell, And tender Hebron we loved so well, And tuneful Stonefield's melodies sweet, Bridgewater, Windham, and Silver-street, And rich St. Martin, and yet again Old Coronation's exultant strain, And sweet Devizes' slow, warbled tone, Resounding Lenox and Arlington, And gentle Boyleston, and many more Which Memory holds in her treasured store, That rise and fall on the tranquil air, As they did of old, in this house of prayer; Where, Sabbath by Sabbath, for many a year, Often and often we sang them here.

For many a year--but they all are flown, The band is broken, and hushed each tone, And voices that mingled in tuneful breath, Are silent now in the hush of death!

Scattered like Autumn-leaves far and near Are those who cl.u.s.tered together here,-- Gone, like flowers in the swift stream cast, Like wandering birds when the summer's past, Like perfume shed in the tempest's track, Never again to be gathered back!

I am thinking now of a young, fair face, A brow of beauty, a form of grace, The tender tones of whose sweet voice long Swelled richly forth in our Sabbath-song; But she laid her own, in a loved one's hand, And he led her forth to a distant land, Where a home, all radiant with love's pure beam, Fulfilled her girlhood's enraptured dream;-- Yet she only pined 'neath the stranger's sky, And he brought her back to her own--to die!

The breath of Spring-time was on the plain, And flowers were bursting to life again, And birds were carolling full and free On the leafy boughs of the forest tree, When the sweetest voice in our tuneful throng Faltered and failed from our choral song, And we laid her down at her pure life's close, Peaceful and pale in her last repose.

The silvery Thames, as it glides along, Murmurs anear her its old, sweet song;-- The tuneful robin sings still, as when He warbled for her in the woodland glen;-- The star she loved, through the long, still night Keeps his old, calm watch 'mid the planets bright;-- Her favorite flowers are still as fair As when twined 'mid the braids of her raven hair;-- But the voice we missed in that far-off Spring Is only heard where the angels sing!

And yet another,--I see him now, With his manly bearing and n.o.ble brow-- Who turned away from our old church-choir, To sing with the angels in worship higher --As an alien bird 'neath inclement skies Foldeth its pinions to earth and dies, So he, o'erwearied with life's unrest, Folded his mantle around his breast, And, meekly bowing his weary head, Went down to rest with the quiet dead, And long were the hearts that had loved him lone For the absent form and the missing tone!

There was still another. I yet behold That form as I saw it in days of old, As we stood in the calm of those Sabbath days, And mingled our voices in hymns of praise.

--Ah! little we dreamed as we saw him there In his proud, young beauty, with brow so fair, And eye so l.u.s.trous, and tones so clear, That the cruel spoiler was then so near;-- We dreamed it not, till we saw the light Of his clear eyes growing so strangely bright.

And the flush of health on his cheek give place To the deadly hectic's burning trace!

There's a tranquil isle amid Southern seas-- A fair isle, swept by no wintry breeze-- Where the wandering zephyr through long, bright hours Gathers the perfume of orange bowers, And roses droop in the fragrant bloom Of their summer life o'er a nameless tomb, --In that nameless tomb he is laid to rest, And the dust of the stranger is on his breast, And the breath of the South sweeps its viewless lyre O'er another lost from our old church-choir

One dreamt of wealth on a distant sh.o.r.e, And he wandered far to return no more, For the deadly pestilence swept his path, And the strong man drooped 'neath its burning wrath, And he sleeps alone in the shining dust Whose golden promises mocked his trust!

By a lonely lake in the boundless West, Another reposes in dreamless rest,-- And yet another--her pure life done-- Slumbers far off toward the setting sun, And the youngest voice in our old church-choir Is to-day attuned to a seraph's lyre

That old church choir--I am standing lone Where we stood together in days by gone, But the tranquil air by no voice is stirred Save the lonely call of a distant bird.

The grey, old church is no longer seen, But the rank gra.s.s over its site grows green, And, 'mid the tomb-stones, with sighing breath, The sad wind whispers of change and death

Hush! is it fancy?--or do I hear A far-off melody, faint yet clear, Of gentle voices, sweet tones of yore, Tenderly borne from an unseen sh.o.r.e?

--Ah! loved, long parted, ye're joined once more In the Sabbath light of a changeless sh.o.r.e!

And there, with never a jarring note, Your joyous anthems forever float In sweet accord with the seraph strains That sweep unchecked o'er celestial plains; And I long to rejoin you in regions higher, Loved ones, long lost from our old church-choir!

NO OTHER NAME

"For there is none other name under heaven, given among men, whereby we must be saved."

Jesus! the only name that's given, Through which salvation we may claim; This, this alone, we breathe to Heaven, For G.o.d accepts no other name.

No other name when skies are bright.

And sunshine glows on field and flower; No other name when, dark as night, The heavy clouds tempestuous lower.

No other name when, drooping low, O'erburdened by sin's heavy load, The contrite spirit pines to know The way to hope, to Heaven, to G.o.d.

No other name when, like a flood, Temptations beat upon the soul; Faith, breathing that one name to G.o.d, The raging billows shall control.

In peace or conflict, toil or rest, In wealth or want, in praise or blame, Still wear it graven on thy breast, And, dying, plead _no other name!_

HEART-PICTURES

Two pictures, strangely beautiful, I hold In Mem'ry's chambers, stored with loving care Among the precious things I prized of old, And hid away with tender tear and prayer The first, an aged woman's placid face Full of the saintly calm of well spent years, Yet bearing in its pensive lines the trace Of weariness, and care, and many tears.

We sat together in our Sabbath-place, Through the hushed hours of many a holy day, And sweet it was to watch the gentle grace Of that bowed form with those who knelt to pray, And lifted face, when swelled the sacred psalm, And the rich promise of G.o.d's word was shed Upon her waiting heart like heavenly balm, And all our souls with angels' meat were fed.

There came a day when missing was that face,-- The form so meekly bent in prayer was gone,-- Those lifted eyes, so radiant with praise, Beyond the spheres in saintly beauty shone!-- Another crowned one swelling Heaven's high train-- Another loved one missed from our low shrine,-- Hers, the rich wealth of Heaven's eternal gain,-- A tearful trust, a tender memory, mine!