Poems

Of man, the glory; of Divinity, a type and kind; Thy purity, Love, and Life, is Substance found in Mind. 'Tis thine to lift the soul above blind passion's sway, 'Tis thine, the mourner's tears to wipe away, 'Tis thine to give new hope, where hope itself hath fled; And thine to heal the sick by Love-light fed; To give to earth its charm, to life Soul's zest,— One gladsome task—to bless and to be blest.

Hail , brother! fling thy banner To the billows and the breeze; We proffer thee warm welcome With our hand, though not our knees. Lord of the main and manor! Thy palm, in ancient day, Didst rock the country's cradle That wakes thy Laureate's lay.

I see a simple, truthful man, Who walks the earth erect, Nor stoops His noble head to one From fear or false respect. He seeks to climb no high estate, No low consent secure, With high and low serenely great, Because His ends are pure.

Marble and recording brass decay, And, like the graver's memory, pass away; The works of man inherit, as is just, Their author's frailty, and return to dust; But Truth divine forever stands secure, Its head as guarded as its base is sure; Fixed in the rolling flood of endless years, The pillar of th' eternal plan appears; The raving storm and dashing wave defies, Built by that Architect who built the skies. — Cowper.

One by one thy duties meet thee, Step by step the path is trod Which, with neither bend nor turning, Leads thee straight to heaven and God. Murmur not at slowest progress, Asking only greater speed; Seeking not to grasp earth's greatness, But of trifles taking heed.

Great Peace have they which love thy Law: and nothing shall offend them. —Psalm 119: 165.

The mists hid fair Gethsemane, Whose olives whispered soft and low A requiem to mortal woe, As Easter dawned on Calvary. Then weeping, and with senses gloomed, Came Magdalene, with spices rare, And ointments, to anoint with care The body of her Lord entombed.

I see an endless brotherhood, Unlimited, divine; By stronger ties than human blood, Their being reaches mine. No more I shame to own as kin What once seemed mean or low; Since God has set his seal within, Caste I no longer know.

Look backward; how much has been won; Look round; how much is yet to win; The watches of the night are done; The watches of the day begin. O Thou whose mighty patience holds The night and day alike in view, Thy will our dearest hopes enfolds, Oh, keep us steadfast, patient, true! Samuel Longfellow.

The builders wrought for Solomon, And hewed the cedar trees; They squared great stones in Lebanon, And bare them over-seas. And then on Mount Moriah's height Silent the one thought grows; Great beams and stones are fitted right, Like petals in a rose.