The youngest blossoms die. In the snow-season undefiled They die and fall and nourish the God came to earth a little child: rich earth He put His ancient glory by From which they lately had their To live for us and then to die. birth; Sweet life, but sweeter death that How shall we thank God? How passeth by And is as though it had not been: All colours turn to green; shall we Thank Him and praise Him worthily? What will He have who loved us thus? What presents will He take from us? The bright hues vanish, and the Will He take gold, or precious heap odours fly, The grass hath lasting worth. And youth and beauty die. Of gems? or shall we rather steep So be it, O my God, Thou God | Which having learned, we will fulfil And Thou, O Lord, our Rest and Thank God, thank God, the Man is Ease, Art better far than these. Why should we shrink from our full harvest? why Prefer to glean with Ruth? 9 February 1849. A CHRISTMAS CAROL THANK God, thank God, we do believe: Thank God that this is Christmas Eve. Could not express, while we can pray. Thank God, thank God, for Christ was born Ages ago, as on this morn. found, Sure-footed, knowing well the ground. He is the gift that we must bring. 7 March 1849. FOR ADVENT SWEET sweet sound of distant waters, falling On a parched and thirsty plain : Sweet sweet song of soaring skylark, calling On the sun to shine again : Perfume of the rose, only the fresher For past fertilizing rain: Pearls amid the sea, a hidden treasure For some daring hand to gain :Better, dearer than all these Is the earth beneath the trees: Of a much more priceless worth Is the old brown common earth. Little snow white lamb, piteously bleating For thy mother far away: Saddest sweetest nightingale, retreating With thy sorrow from the day: Weary fawn whom night has overtaken, From the herd gone quite astray: Dove whose nest was rifled and for saken In the budding month of May :- ease: Death is better far than birth : You shall turn again to earth. Listen to the never-pausing murmur Of the waves that fret the shore: See the ancient pine that stands the firmer For the storm-shock that it bore : And the moon her silver chalice filling With light from the great sun's store : And the stars which deck Our temple's ceiling As the flowers deck its floor : Look and hearken while you may, For these things shall pass away: All these things shall fail and cease: Let us wait the end in peace. Let us wait the end in peace, for truly That shall cease which was before: Let us see our lamps are lighted, duly Fed with oil nor wanting more: Let us pray while yet the Lord will hear us, For the time is almost o'er: Yea, the Judge is at the door. TWO PURSUITS A VOICE said, 'Follow, follow': and I rose And followed far into the dreamy night, Turning my back upon the pleasant light. It led me where the bluest water flows, And would not let me drink: where the corn grows I dared not pause, but went uncheered by sight Or touch until at length in evil plight It left me, wearied out with many woes. Some time I sat as one bereft of sense: But soon another voice from very far Called, Follow, follow': and I rose again. Now on my night has dawned a blessed star : Therefore I found a book, and writ Therein how ease and also pain, Kind steady hands my sinking How health and sickness, every one So little joy hath he, so little cheer, Till all things end in the long dust of death. Is vanity beneath the sun. Man walks in a vain shadow; he The rivers do not fill the sea, Our treasures moth and rust corrupt, Orthieves break through and steal, or they Make themselves wings and fly away. One man made merry as he supped, We build our houses on the sand Comely withoutside and within ; But when the winds and rains begin To-day is still the same as yesterday, They perish, quickly overthrown, To beat on them, they cannot stand: To-morrow also even as one of Loose from the very basement stone. All things are vanity, I said: The rich man dies; and the poor The worm feeds sweetly on the dead. trust: All in the end shall have but dust: The one inheritance, which best And worst alike shall find and share : The wicked cease from troubling there, Judge nothing before the time. LOVE understands the mystery, whereof We can but spell a surface history: Love knows, remembers: let us trust in Love: Love understands the mystery. Love weighs the event, the long pre-history, Little and great is man : Great if he will, or if he will For what he will he can. MAN'S life is but a working day Whose tasks are set aright: A time to work, a time to pray, And then a quiet night. Measures the depth beneath, the And then, please God, a quiet night height above, The mystery, mystery. with the ante To love and to be grieved befits a dove Love understands the mystery. How great is little man! Sun, moon, and stars respond to him, Shine or grow dim Harmonious with his span. How little is great man! More changeable than changeful moon, Nor half in tune With Heaven's harmonious plan. Ah rich man! ah poor man! Make ready for the testing day What bears not fire or fan. Thou heir of all things, man, Pursue the saints by heavenward track: They looked not back; Run thou, as erst they ran. Where palms are green and robes are white; A long-drawn breath, a balm for sorrow, And all things lovely on the morrow. 19 March 1864. IF not with hope of life, Begin with fear of death: Strive the tremendous life-long strife Breath after breath. Bleed on beneath the rod; Weep on until thou see; Turn fear and hope to love of God Who loveth thee. Turn all to love, poor soul; Be love thy watch and ward; Be love thy starting-point, thy goal, And thy reward. Before 1893. The day is at hand. WATCH yet a while, Weep till that day shall dawn when thou shalt smile: Watch till the day When all save only Love shall pass away. |