Poems

I. Faith " My soul doth wait.

Oh , to shut out the world! All day, this day, Like long black banners, blank, unfurled, That shift and sway. The thoughts of mortals have been blown Against my soul all day, this day.

O heart of mine, be still, and cease repining! The future ways are beautiful and bright, For on life's distant paths God's sun is shining, If we have but the power to view aright. Be still, mine heart, and listen to the pealing Of radiant music from the unseen spheres.

March on, my soul, nor like a laggard stay! March swiftly on. Yet err not from the way Where all the nobly wise of old have trod, The path of faith made by the sons of God.

Scale , if thou canst not rest, the age-long peaks, Look from the heights on little worlds and men, Cling panting to the topmost tow'rs of earth! And lest there still abide thine own vain worth, Know that each awe-filled breath thou takest in, Each step that brings thee to the glacier's dome, Are thine from Him within whose outstretched hand Abide the hills which thou dost call thine own. When grim Himal'ya's wilderness of peaks Lay leagues beneath the prehistoric sea; Before the flame begot the hidden gold, Or ever Eden's torrent sprang fourfold.

Where the purple cliffs reach upward from the lonely restless deep. Till in peace their crown of hemlocks may a tryst with heaven keep, Whence there comes a benediction that no kingly crown may reap; Where the rocky crest lies hidden in the brown and wind- sown grass, I, 'twixt half-closed eyelids resting, saw life as in a glass; And a oneness with all being through my spirit seemed to pass, While upon the breeze came voices, out from all the ages dim, As the formless dark was banished by the wings of sera phim, And the world alit with gladness caught the love that shone from Him.

Why should I grieve, though seeing thee no more? Why beat the restless pinions of desire, Till flames consume my self-constructed pyre And phenixlike I perish? Still to soar, As doth the lark, above this twilight shore, With dauntless wing and vision ever higher; My steadfast heart aglow with vestal fire— Thus would I grieve and thus would I adore. Why should I mourn? The joyous-hearted day Whereon we met as wanderers long astray, Though but a fledgling's vision, wild and brief, Holds promise, as earth's blinding vapor yields A glimpse of empyrean,—fire-purged fields,— Of halcyon years, undimmed by brooding grief.

The while my feet have seemed all time to plod In weariness, my joyous thoughts outrun The driven chariot of the morning sun; And swift, my soul would dare heights yet untrod (What time my feet are chained to this sod) . And while my days slip backward, one by one.

The air is heavy with the breath of prayer; The still earth listens for the unspoken thought; My heart beats wildly, and each throb is fraught With joy and anguish for the longing there. Ah, patient Christ, thine arms are open wide! I press—I hasten, lest earth's seething tide Should bear me backward, and with Love deposed Fear meet me halting and—I find them closed.

Out of the shuddering night To Thee I cry in all my sin's despite, Father of mercy! from Thine holy hill Heed my complaint, and bid my woes be still! There is no pain, there is no scalding tear Where Love is king; and Love alone is here: To do Thy will the winds and waters sweep Along the eternal hills and on the moaning deep. I feel Thy presence here— A chord of peace upon the enchanted ear Breathing the tones of heaven: my dark distress Touched a white garment in the throng and press.