The green leaves twinkled; and the brooklet gay
Danced to the sound of its own melody.
Light clouds roved free o'er Heaven's fields of blue;
The sweet birds sang as if their song was new.
And leaves, and brooks, and clouds, and birds
for me
Said but these happy words "Be free, be free,
Christ has given all things joy and liberty!"
"Eyes to the blind." Job, xxix. 15.
Он, joy it is when we our mission find,
Even if it be to wipe the humblest tear,
Or still the very faintest human fear.
But something it must be for human kind!
How else appease the thirst of soul and mind
Remorse which most doth wait on wasted powers
The rankling nothingness of trifled hours
And thwarted aims? Feel'st thou that thou art
Go unto Nature. Beauty, Joy, and Use,
Are severed but in man's philosophy.
The rose does more than feed the honey bee;
Nothing dies in itself. Only unloose
In Christ Creation's eye- thy filmy sight,
And thou on earth shalt choose thy place aright.
"I will glory of the things which concern mine infirmities." 2 Corinthians, xi. 30.
HE, who did boast his own infirmities
As his best right, in this my rule shall be;
Lord, in Thy sight, I have no other plea
Save that I want Thy precious sacrifice!
Behold me! dust and ashes in Thine eyes;
Yet has the blood of Christ been shed for me,
Therefore I needs must have a dignity;
Nor dare I even my wretched self despise
For whom Thou didst Thy Father's bosom leave,
To live and die in sorrow. Let me, then,
The more my depths lie open to my ken,
Rise but the more in Thee!
When most I grieve,
Most let me triumph in a joy divine,
Felt to be dearest because wholly Thine.
"At thy right hand are pleasures for evermore." Psalm xvi. 11.
WITHOUT the smile of God upon the soul
We see not, and the world has lost its light;
For us there is no quiet in the night,
No beauty in the stars. The saffron stole
Of morning, or the pomp of evening's goal
That celebrates Day's marriage with the Sea;
Blue distance- silver lake hill, glen, and tree,
Are sealed unto the spirit like a scroll
Writ in a perished language.
Upon this darkness suddenly may dart,
And Christ's dear love be poured into the heart
To clothe Creation in a robe of day.
Then doth the morning cheer, the night hath calm,
And skies a glory, and the dews a balm.
"Fire and hail, snow and vapours - stormy wind fulfilling his word." Psalm cxlviii. 8.
THERE are who deem the earthquake and the storm Fulfilments of that dread mysterious curse,
Which God inflicted on the universe
When man from angel drooped into a worm:
But, come with me, and view sweet Nature's form
After the tempest, which was loud and fierce
The livelong night. Now, all things do rehearse
The praises of that strife which was the germ
Of future peace. Bright is the boundless air,
Earth joyous with her dewy coronal :
And hark! a festive voice is everywhere
Murmuring in Faith's glad ear, "God blesses all,
Even His judgments. Cheer thee, drooping soul;
Doubt not all sorrow hath a happy goal."
"He taught them as one having authority." St. Matthew, vii. 29.
THE written Word is needful! What were man
Without authority? Little, I wist,
More than a coil of sand that billows twist,
Leaving brief chronicle where last they ran.
Authority is of Life's darkling span
The need. By more than eloquence enticed,
Plato had hung upon the words of Christ;
Plato, who laid himself beneath the ban
Of human ignorance, nor taught as one
Having authority. Even Mahomet
Nations with Holy Books o'er others set
Who had from heaven no written record won.*
And this was wisdom: for, to man the worm,
Truth's essence breathes away without Truth's form.
"As gods, knowing good and evil." Genesis, iii. 5.
EVIL! thou art a necessary good
Fountain of Individualities,
Great tenure, thou, of all existences
That are not God. . . If rightly understood,
Thou art the lesson-book, and holy rood
Whereby, ascending up sublime degrees,
We know, and reconcile, and difference seize,
And change our earthly for a heavenly mood.
Ah, who can grieve that man has plucked the fruit
Of knowledge? . . Scarcely name we Innocence
The Virtue that is not Experience.
No! We our souls divinely must transmute
Out of the God-led instincts of the brute,
Into the loftier ways of Providence!
THE seraphs veil their faces with their wings Before Thy throne, O God! Then how should I, Who tremble in a frail mortality,
Reach Thee in reverential visitings?
Forgive me, if my soul too boldly flings
Conjecture forth to bridge and bring me nigh
To Thee. I only do in truth reply
To my own doubts, my heart's sad murmurings.
I do but put away all thoughts that bar
My love of Thee, and clear Thy lovely name
From things that with Thy high perfection jar,
By the soul's noblest instincts marked with blame;
Yet in my ignorance I veil my face
Before the throne of Thy adoréd grace.
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