Poems

The day will come, crowned as Earth's paradise, When freed mankind will have one hope, one aim, One true and perfect Principle, the same Fountain of living waters, pure and free, And but one span of life,—Eternity; One rule alone of Love and this all-wise,— This day will come, crowned as Earth's paradise. The day will come, crowned as Earth's paradise, When bitter tears will all be wiped away With the sweet peace of Spirit.

If every star of human hope has set, Yet look not down await the dawn! The turning of the earth has always met A rising sun of newness, won From Cosmic Light, which makes life roseate, As when Truth's pristine radiance shone, Its glory now wakes hearts from gloom's regret, The e'er-recurring joy to own. 'Tis true all good things come again: they point To one encircling Source; wherefore Their orb they never lose, nor disappoint The patient watchers who explore Earth's mysteries, seeking Light where time's disjoint.

It came into my life, a song of sweetest cadence, And never since I caught its first truth-tone has it departed utterly. When self, discordant, clamors loud with doubts and fears, And sin has thrust itself into my consciousness, Betimes I've almost lost the key-note of my song; But even in the anguish of despair, I hear the undertone, The saving rhythm of the still, small voice, that uttereth itself infinitely.

Two sorrie Thynges there be— Ay, three: A Neste from which ye Fledglings have been taken, A Lambe forsaken, A Redde leaf from ye Wilde rose rudely shaken. Of gladde Thynges there be more— Ay, four: A Larke above ye olde Neste blythely singing, A Wilde Rose clinging In safety to a Rock: a Shepherde bringing A Lambe, found, in his armes, and Chrystemasse Bells a-ringing.

Except we love we may not live In atmosphere of pure delight, For Love alone to us can give The freer life—the clearer sight. Through love alone we learn to see Our brother's needs, and them supply.

One has a wall so very high, They dream not of roses, the passers-by, And a gardener watches with wary eye, Lest children the fragrance scent, and pry. And one has no wall, the children play In the rose-scented air the live-long day, And men who pass on their weary way Pause to adore, perhaps to pray.

I rose upon the wings of thought, In flights of fancy roved, and soared above The sordid world; the Truth I sought Seemed hidden, and I vainly strove To solve the mystery, prayed for light To penetrate this endless night. I searched for God both far and near, And yet in utter darkness groped; My eyes were holden still with fear; I staggered, Lord, for I had hoped To find in Thee some trace of self, Some worldly gain, or hoard, or pelf.

With gaze enrapt, transfixed beyond The infant nestling at her breast, The mother views her heritage— A child from God's creation blest. So Mary saw beyond her babe, Th' adoring angels close beside; So one of old on Sinai's height Faced light to lower planes denied.

The silent stars are full of speech For who hath ears to hear; The winds are whispering each to each, And stars their sacred lessons teach Of faith, and hope, and cheer. But once the sky its silence broke, And song O'erflowed the earth; And angels mortal language spoke, When God our human utterance took, In Christ the Saviour's birth.

I know a nature like a tree; Men seek its shade instinctively. It is a choir for singing birds.