Poems

" The parish priest Of Austerity Climbed up a high church steeple To be nearer God, So that he might hand His Word down to His people. When the sun was high, When the sun was low, The good man sat unheeding Sublunary things; From transcendency Was he forever reading.

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" In vain I stretch my weary hope " * To watch for His appearing; The nations still in darkness grope— Their ears are dull of hearing. Yet sweeping down the years untold, The day of Truth is breaking; And sweet and fair the leaves unfold, Of Love's immortal waking.

We get back our mete as we measure, We cannot do wrong and feel right. Nor can we give pain and gain pleasure, For Justice avenges each slight.

In the secret of his presence how my soul delights to hide, Oh, how precious are the lessons which I learn at Jesus' side. Earthly cares can never vex me, neither trials lay me low; For when Satan comes to tempt me, to the secret place I go.

Thou art the way! With Thee to guide, Gloriously the pathway shines; And naught on earth can dim or hide The brightness of that light divine. Thou art the Truth! With Thee to shield, Dark error cannot overcome; The sword of Right we bravely wield, And victors prove in ev'ry strife.

Still , still with Thee when purple morning breaketh, When the tired waketh, and the shadows flee, Fairer than morning, lovelier than the daylight, Dawns the sweet consciousness, I am with Thee. Alone with Thee, amid the seeming shadows, The solemn hush of being, newly born, Alone with Thee, in breathless adoration, In the calm dew and freshness of the morn.

Ah ! solemn mountain at whose feet I stand, Clouds do adorn thy brow, skies clasp thy hand; Nature and God, in harmony profound, With peaceful presence have begirt thee round. And thou majestic oak, from yon high place Guard'st thou the earth, asleep in night's embrace? Or from thy lofty summit, pouring down Thy sheltering shade, her noonday glories crown? Whate'er thy mission, mountain sentinel, O'er my lone heart thou hast a magic spell; A lesson grave of life, thou teachest me— I love the Hebrew figure of a tree.

Now the ills of flesh surround us, Oft the storm clouds hide the sun, But though dark the night around us, Day is breaking further on; Further onward all the mists and clouds are gone. Here the thorns with flowers are growing; Rough and weary is our path; Gentle waters seldom flowing In the desert ways of earth, Further onward, sweet immortal springs have birth.

The soul wherein God dwells (what church can holier be?) Becomes a walking tent of heavenly majesty. How far from earth to heaven, not very far, my friend; A single heavy step will all thy trouble end.