Questions & Answers
Ah , he who is willing to work and wait,— Who faces the cloud or the sun, and strong With the strength that battles each adverse fate, And that throttles each growing wrong, Walks firm in the path, whether smooth or steep, Whether wide or close, till he reach the goal,— He, of all the world, is the one to keep, As a guide where the high waves roll. And he who has struggled through want and cold, And has kept the road, till his feet have trod the summits that shine with the morning gold, Lo, he is the nearest to God.
Manifold the graces, On earth's bosom lying; Multiform the faces, In the heavens flying;— Faces as of angels, Bountiful and bright; Graces of God's Spirit, Leading man aright. Deep and rich the treasures, In man's bosom hidden; Full and free the pleasures To which he is bidden;— Pleasures spread in Eden, When the world was young, Treasures laid in Heaven, And by seraphs sung.
Well hast thou painted her, our Ship of State,— A state of Mind,—amidst the breakers' roar, The calm, grand equipoise of Faith, combined With Understanding; and the pearly door Of Heaven, our port, that nearer is, ajar, Whence gleams the morning of our Eastern Star.
Come in New Year, with all thy youthful grace! The light breeze fans thee with its frost-plumed wing: The new day holds thee in its strong embrace; So fair a Muse ne'er fondled infant king. Bring to these hearts a thousand high resolves! Bring love to sweeten all earth's wrong and ruth! Bring faith in faith, as sphere in sphere revolves! Bring in the bounteous harvest-time of Truth! Bring us the light of free, unbiased thought! Breathe thoughts of action into lifeless creeds! With blessed wisdom let thy wings be fraught! Oh, bring a swollen tide of saintly deeds!
New Year again has come, The glad New Year! To many a heart and home It brings good cheer. New Life doth always come Where God doth dwell; Have Him within the home, And all is well.
At the Beautiful Gate sat the lame one, Bewailing a fate so forlorn, Oft wishing, since all men forgot him, He had never in this world been born. Through the wide entrance crowded the Zealot, The Pharisee, Sadducee, Scribe; Of them all scarcely one gave a penny, Or a thought to the poor of their tribe.
What awful gifts of rapture or despair Hold thy closed hands, oh thou New Year, for me? 'Twixt thy far close and this thy January, What mysteries shall be of love and prayer? The heights of Life where I would walk are fair; But in the valley where the damp mists be, I may grope blindly on. Ah, let me see The longed-for heights! Let me respire that air, And know its healing, whatsoe'er await! I do not pray for any dear delights, Seeing my very days oft turn to nights; Only I ask, whatever me wait, Thy days, New Year, may witness me, though late, If not upon, yet making for the heights.
The husbandman Comes early, with the pruning-hooks and shears, And strips it bare of all its innocent pride And wandering garlands, and cuts deep and sure, Unsparing for its tenderness and joy. And in its loss and pain it wasteth not; But yields itself with unabated Life, More perfect under the despoiling hand.
One in Spirit be, Bound in unity, One in Hope and Life, Safe from mortal strife. Turn from gloom to light, Shunning sinful night.
Where are the works in patience wrought, The grace to love thy neighbor, The sins left off, the wisdom taught Of suffering and labor, The fuller life, the strength to wait, The equal heart for either fate? Well may I speed the parting guest, And take the New Year to my breast. Be thou indeed a true year, Oh fair and welcome New Year.