Poems

When is the course of the life Of mortal men on the earth? Most men eddy about Here and there,—eat and drink, Chatter and love and hate, Gather and squander, are raised Aloft, are hurled in the dust, Striving blindly, achieving Nothing; and, then they die,— Perish; and no one asks Who or what they have been, And there are some, whom a thirst Ardent, unquenchable, fires, Not with the crowd to be spent. Not without aim to go round In an eddy of unmeaningless dust.

Hark, hither, reader! wouldst thou see Nature her own physician be? Wouldst see a man all his own wealth, His own physic, his own health? A man whose sober soul can tell How to wear her garments well— Her garments, that upon her sit As garments should do, close and fit; A well-clothed soul, that's not oppressed Nor choked with what she should be dressed; A soul sheathed in a crystal shrine, Through which all her bright features shine; A soul whose intellectual beams No mists do mask, no lazy steams; A happy soul, that all the way To heaven hath a summer's day? In sum, wouldst see a man that can Live to be old, and still a man? Whose latest and most leaden hours Fall with soft wings, stuck with soft flowers. And, when life's sweet fable ends, Soul and body part like friends:— No quarrels, murmurs, no delay; A kiss, a sigh, and so away? This rare one, reader, wouldst thou see? Hark, hither! and—thyself be he! — Richard Crashaw, 1610-1650.

"He gives what He gives,—be content! He resumes nothing given,—be sure; God lend? Where the usurers lent In His temple, indignant he went, And scourged away all those impure. "He lends not, but gives to the end, As He loves to the end.

" If to-day thou turn'st aside, In the luxury and pride, Wrapped within thyself, and blind To the sorrows of thy kind, Thou a faithless watch dost keep. Thou art one of those who sleep: Or, if waking thou dost see Nothing of divinity In our fallen struggling race, If in them thou seest no trace Of a glory dimmed, not gone, Of a future to be won, Of a future, hopeful, high, Thou, the Peter, dost deny; But if, seeing, thou believest, If the Evangel thou receivest, Yet, if thou art bound to sin, False to the ideal within, Slave of ease, or slave of gold, Thou the Son of God hast sold.

Prince of peace, the Heavenly King As a mortal babe disguised, He appeared whom angels sing, Earth-disguised. Empty-handed from his birth, Gifts exceeding pure he brought: Treasures hidden not in earth Jesus brought.

"We search the world for truth; we cull The good, the pure, the beautiful From graven stone, and written scroll; From all old flower fields of the soul; And weary seekers of the best, We come back laden from our quest, To And that all the sages said Is in the Book our mothers read; And all our treasure of old thought In His harmonious fulness wrought, Who gathers in one sheaf complete The scattered blades of God's own wheat, The common growth, that maketh good His all-embracing Fatherhood. ".

Theory never can equal demonstration. "O Thou! at whose rebuke the grave Back to warm life its sleeper gave: Beneath whose sad and tearful glance The cold and changed countenance Broke the still horror of its trance.

" Speak , Victory! Who are Life's heroes? Unroll thy long annals, and say,— Are they those whom the world called the victors, Who won the success of a day? "The martyrs, or Nero? The Spartans Who fell at Thermopylæ's tryst, Or the Persians and Xerxes? His judges, or Socrates? Pilate, or Christ?".

Mighty Truth of Heavenly birth, Angels bring thee near; Rise, ye children of the earth, You are bidden here. Blessings e'er thy steps attend, All "thy paths are peace.

Her years steal by like birds through cloudless skies, Soft singing as they go; She views their flight with sunshine in her eyes, She hears their music low, And on her forehead, beautiful and wise, Shines love's most holy glow. There is no pain for her in Time's soft flight, Her spirit is so fair; Her days shine as they pass her, in the light Her gentle doings wear; On her fair brow I never saw the night, But hope's glad star shone there.