Poems

Good wheat I sowed in the field, And labored under the sun; But after the toil was done My senses by sleep were sealed, In the long, long wait for the yield. Unburdened by honest cares, An enemy, ever awake His uncaused hate to slake, Scattered his bag of tares On the earth late turned by the shares.

To sit in judgment on our fellow-man Is awkward work, if we the truth confess; For though with eyes severe his deeds we scan, Brought to the bar of our self-righteousness, How well we know that every fault we find, The folly, weakness, guile, and evil shown, Have equal place firm-stationed in our mind, And that the sin we punish is our own. There's but one human way or weak or strong, Standing or stumbling, as the chance may be, Oh, kinfolks, hand in hand, let's grope along, Helping and being helped, in our degree; The road is weary and its perils great, It is not ours to make it wearier still We need love's kindliness.

With loving arms He bore them on, Through all the days of old; And carried them with tender care, As lambs of His own fold. With pity He redeemed them all, With love He bore their woe, The angel of His presence came, The toilsome way to show.

It is my joy in life to find At every turning of the road, The strong arm of a comrade kind To help me onward with my load: And since I have no gold to give, And love alone must make amends, My only prayer is, while I live,— God make me worthy of my friends! Frank Dempster Sherman. In Frank Leslie's Monthly.

I hold him great who for love's sake Can give with generous, earnest will; Yet he who takes for love's sweet sake, I think I hold more generous still. I bow before the noble mind That freely some great wrong forgives; Yet nobler is the one forgiven, Who bears that burden well and lives.

I say to thee, Do thou repeat To the first man thou mayest meet In lane, highway, or open street, That he and we and all men move Under a canopy of love As broad as the blue sky above; That doubt and trouble, fear and pain And anguish, all are shadows vain, That death itself shall not remain; That weary deserts we may tread, A dreary labyrinth may thread, Through dark ways underground be led; Yet if we will our Guide obey, The dreariest path, the darkest way, Shall issue out in heavenly day; And we, on divers shores now cast. Shall meet, our perilous voyage past, All in our Father's house at last.

If deeds of love you would achieve, This one great truth you must believe By giving you can best receive. With prophet poor your cruse divide; The little left is multiplied, And want is kept far from your side.

List ! "Sleep on now and take your rest"— Anew the voice divine Rings out athwart pretended zest That suffers love's decline. Shall the betrayer's faithless kiss Find echo in my part? Christ leads, and none the path can miss, Except the cold of heart.

When men revile thee till the way grows dreary In which thy feet so long have blameless trod, When friends condemn thee and the heart is weary Beneath the chastening of misfortune's rod, Then turn unto the Master's kind bequest: "Come unto me, and I will give you rest. " Be not cast down; behold, the roses borrow Fresh buds of promise from the cloud-wrapt day— Buds that shall blossom in a fair to-morrow, And seem the sweeter for the rude delay; So may the clouds beget the promise blest "Come unto me, and I will give you rest.

We are not free; Freedom doth not consist In musing with our faces toward the Past, While petty cares, and crawling interests, twist Their spider-threads about us, which at last Grow strong as iron chains, to cramp and bind In formal narrowness heart, soul, and mind. Freedom is recreated year by year, In hearts wide open on the Godward side, In souls calm-cadenced as the whirling sphere, In minds that sway the future like a tide.