# Miscellaneous Writings/Chapter 11

Boston, Massachusetts: Allison V. Stewart pages 384-400
CHAPTER XI
POEMS
Come Thou
| C | OME, in the minstrel's lay; |
| C | When two hearts meet, |
And true hearts greet, :
And all is morn and May. :
Come Thou! and now, anew, :
To thought and deed :
Give sober speed, :
Thy will to know, and do. :
Stay! till the storms are o'er — :
The cold blasts done, :
The reign of heaven begun, :
And Love, the evermore. :
Be patient, waiting heart: :
Light, Love divine :
Is here, and thine; :
You therefore cannot part. :
“The seasons come and go: :
Love, like the sea, :
Rolls on with thee, — :
But knows no ebb and flow. :
“Faith, hope, and tears, triune, :
Above the sod :
Find peace in God, :
And one eternal noon.” :
Oh, Thou hast heard my prayer; :
And I am blest! :
This is Thy high behest: :
Thou, here and everywhere. :
Meeting of My Departed Mother and Husband
* “Joy for thee, happy friend! thy bark is past
* The dangerous sea, and safely moored at last —
* Beyond rough foam.
* Soft gales celestial, in sweet music bore —
* Spirit emancipate for this far shore —
* Thee to thy home.
* “You've travelled long, and far from mortal joys,
* To Soul's diviner sense, that spurns such toys,
* Brave wrestler, lone.
* Now see thy ever-self; Life never fled;
* Man is not mortal, never of the dead:
* The dark unknown.
* “When hope soared high, and joy was eagle-plumed,
* Thy pinions drooped; the flesh was weak, and doomed
* To pass away.
* But faith triumphant round thy death-couch shed
* Majestic forms; and radiant glory sped
* The dawning day.
* “Intensely grand and glorious life's sphere, —
* Beyond the shadow, infinite appear
* Life, Love divine, —
* Where mortal yearnings come not, sighs are stilled,
* And home and peace and hearts are found and filled,
* Thine, ever thine.
* “Bearest thou no tidings from our loved on earth,
* The toiler tireless for Truth's new birth
* All-unbeguiled?
* Our joy is gathered from her parting sigh:
* This hour looks on her heart with pitying eye, —
* What of my child?"
* “When, severed by death's dream, I woke to Life,
* She deemed I died, and could not know the strife
* At first to fill
* That waking with a love that steady turns
* To God; a hope that ever upward yearns,
* Bowed to His will.
* “Years had passed o'er thy broken household band,
* When angels beckoned me to this bright land,
* With thee to meet.
* She that has wept o'er thee, kissed my cold brow,
* Rears the sad marble to our memory now,
* In lone retreat.
* “By the remembrance of her loyal life,
* And parting prayer, I only know my wife,
* Thy child, shall come —
* Where farewells cloud not o'er our ransomed rest —
* Hither to reap, with all the crowned and blest,
* Of bliss the sum.
* “When Love's rapt sense the heart-strings gently sweep,
* With joy divinely fair, the high and deep,
* To call her home.
* She shall mount upward unto purer skies;
* We shall be waiting, in what glad surprise,
* Our spirits' own!”
Love
* Brood o'er us with Thy sheltering wing,
* 'Neath which our spirits blend
* Like brother birds, that soar and sing,
* And on the same branch bend.
* The arrow that doth wound the dove
* Darts not from those who watch and love.
* If thou the bending reed wouldst break
* By thought or word unkind,
* Pray that his spirit you partake,
* Who loved and healed mankind:
* Seek holy thoughts and heavenly strain,
* That make men one in love remain.
* Learn, too, that wisdom's rod is given
* For faith to kiss, and know;
* That greetings glorious from high heaven,
* Whence joys supernal flow,
* Come from that Love, divinely near,
* Which chastens pride and earth-born fear.
* Through God, who gave that word of might
* Which swelled creation's lay:
* “Let there be light, and there was light.”
* What chased the clouds away?
* 'T was Love whose finger traced aloud
* A bow of promise on the cloud.
* Thou to whose power our hope we give,
* Free us from human strife.
* Fed by Thy love divine we live,
* For Love alone is Life;
* And life most sweet, as heart to heart
* Speaks kindly when we meet and part.
Woman's Rights
* Grave on her monumental pile:
* She won from vice, by virtue's smile,
* Her dazzling crown, her sceptred throne,
* Affection's wreath, a happy home;
* The right to worship deep and pure,
* To bless the orphan, feed the poor;
* Last at the cross to mourn her Lord,
* First at the tomb to hear his word:
* To fold an angel's wings below;
* And hover o'er the couch of woe;
* To nurse the Bethlehem babe so sweet,
* The right to sit at Jesus' feet;
* To form the bud for bursting bloom,
* The hoary head with joy to crown;
* In short, the right to work and pray,
* “To point to heaven and lead the way.”
The Mother's Evening Prayer
* O gentle presence, peace and joy and power;
* O Life divine, that owns each waiting hour,
* Thou Love that guards the nestling's faltering flight!
* Keep Thou my child on upward wing to-night.
* Love is our refuge; only with mine eye
* Can I behold the snare, the pit, the fall:
* His habitation high is here, and nigh,
* His arm encircles me, and mine, and all.
* O make me glad for every scalding tear,
* For hope deferred, ingratitude, disdain!
* Wait, and love more for every hate, and fear
* No ill, — since God is good, and loss is gain.
* Beneath the shadow of His mighty wing;
* In that sweet secret of the narrow way,
* Seeking and finding, with the angels sing:
* “Lo, I am with you alway,” — watch and pray.
* No snare, no fowler, pestilence or pain;
* No night drops down upon the troubled breast,
* When heaven's aftersmile earth's tear-drops gain,
* And mother finds her home and heavenly rest.
June
* Whence are thy wooings, gentle June?
* Thou hast a Naiad's charm;
* Thy breezes scent the rose's breath;
* Old Time gives thee her palm.
* The lark's shrill song doth wake the dawn:
* The eve-bird's forest flute
* Gives back some maiden melody,
* Too pure for aught so mute.
* The fairy-peopled world of flowers,
* Enraptured by thy spell,
* Looks love unto the laughing hours,
* Through woodland, grove, and dell;
* And soft thy footstep falls upon
* The verdant grass it weaves;
* To melting murmurs ye have stirred
* The timid, trembling leaves.
* When sunshine beautifies the shower,
* As smiles through teardrops seen,
* Ask of its June, the long-hushed heart,
* What hath the record been?
* And thou wilt find that harmonies,
* In which the Soul hath part,
* Ne'er perish young, like things of earth,
* In records of the heart.
Wish and Item
Written to the Editor of the “Item,” Lynn, Mass.
* I hope the heart that's hungry
* For things above the floor,
* Will find within its portals
* An item rich in store;
* That melancholy mortals
* Will count their mercies o'er,
* And learn that Truth and wisdom
* Have many items more;
* That when a wrong is done us,
* It stirs no thought of strife;
* And Love becomes the substance,
* As item, of our life;
* That every ragged urchin,
* With bare feet soiled or sore,
* Share God's most tender mercies, —
* Find items at our door.
* Then if we've done to others
* Some good ne'er told before,
* When angels shall repeat it,
* 'T will be an item more.
The Oak on the Mountain's Summit
* Oh, mountain monarch, at whose feet I stand, —
* Clouds to adorn thy brow, skies clasp thy hand, —
* Nature divine, in harmony profound,
* With peaceful presence hath begirt thee round.
* And thou, majestic oak, from yon high place
* Guard'st thou the earth, asleep in night's embrace, —
* And from thy lofty summit, pouring down
* Thy sheltering shade, her noonday glories crown?
* Whate'er thy mission, mountain sentinel,
* To my lone heart thou art a power and spell;
* A lesson grave, of life, that teacheth me
* To love the Hebrew figure of a tree.
* Faithful and patient be my life as thine;
* As strong to wrestle with the storms of time;
* As deeply rooted in a soil of love;
* As grandly rising to the heavens above.
Isle of Wight
Written on receiving a painting of the Isle
* Isle of beauty, thou art singing
* To my sense a sweet refrain;
* To my busy memory bringing
* Scenes that I would see again.
* Chief, the charm of thy reflecting,
* Is the moral that it brings;
* Nature, with the mind connecting,
* Gives the artist's fancy wings.
* Soul, sublime 'mid human débris,
* Paints the limner's work, I ween,
* Art and Science, all unweary,
* Lighting up this mortal dream.
* Work ill-done within the misty
* Mine of human thoughts, we see
* Soon abandoned when the Master
* Crowns life's Cliff for such as we.
* Students wise, he maketh now thus
* Those who fish in waters deep,
* When the buried Master hails us
* From the shores afar, complete.
* Art hath bathed this isthmus-lordling
* In a beauty strong and meek
* As the rock, whose upward tending
* Points the plane of power to seek.
* Isle of beauty, thou art teaching
* Lessons long and grand, to-night,
* To my heart that would be bleaching
* To thy whiteness, Cliff of Wight.
Hope
* 'Tis borne on the zephyr at eventide's hour;
* It falls on the heart like the dew on the flower, —
* An infinite essence from tropic to pole,
* The promise, the home, and the heaven of Soul.
* Hope happifies life, at the altar or bower,
* And loosens the fetters of pride and of power;
* It comes through our tears, as the soft summer rain,
* To beautify, bless, and make joyful again,
* The harp of the minstrel, the treasure of time;
* A rainbow of rapture, o'erarching, divine;
* The God-given mandate that speaks from above, —
* No place for earth's idols, but hope thou, and love.
Rondelet
* “The flowers of June
* The gates of memory unbar:
* The flowers of June
* Such old-time harmonies retune,
* I fain would keep the gates ajar, —
* So full of sweet enchantment are
* The flowers of June.”
James T. White.
To Mr. James T. White
* Who loves not June
* Is out of tune
* With love and God;
* The rose his rival reigns,
* The stars reject his pains,
* His home the clod!
* And yet I trow,
* When sweet rondeau
* Doth play a part,
* The curtain drops on June;
* Veiled is the modest moon —
* Hushed is the heart.
Autumn
Written in childhood, in a maple grove
* Quickly earth's jewels disappear;
* The turf, whereon I tread,
* Ere autumn blanch another year,
* May rest above my head.
* Touched by the finger of decay
* Is every earthly love;
* For joy, to shun my weary way,
* Is registered above.
* The languid brooklets yield their sighs,
* A requiem o'er the tomb
* Of sunny days and cloudless skies,
* Enhancing autumn's gloom.
* The wild winds mutter, howl, and moan,
* To scare my woodland walk,
* And frightened fancy flees, to roam
* Where ghosts and goblins stalk.
* The cricket's sharp, discordant scream
* Fills mortal sense with dread;
* More sorrowful it scarce could seem;
* It voices beauty fled.
* Yet here, upon this faded sod,
* happy hours and fleet,
* When songsters' matin hymns to God
* Are poured in strains so sweet,
* My heart unbidden joins rehearse;
* I hope it's better made,
* When mingling with the universe,
* Beneath the maple's shade.
Christ My Refuge
* O'er waiting harpstrings of the mind
* There sweeps a strain,
* Low, sad, and sweet, whose measures bind
* The power of pain,
* And wake a white-winged angel throng
* Of thoughts, illumed
* By faith, and breathed in raptured song,
* With love perfumed.
* Then his unveiled, sweet mercies show
* Life's burdens light.
* I kiss the cross, and wake to know
* A world more bright.
* And o'er earth's troubled, angry sea
* I see Christ walk,
* And come to me, and tenderly,
* Divinely talk.
* Thus Truth engrounds me on the rock,
* Upon Life's shore,
* 'Gainst which the winds and waves can shock,
* Oh, nevermore!
* From tired joy and grief afar,
* And nearer Thee, —
* Father, where Thine own children are,
* I love to be.
* My prayer, some daily good to do
* To Thine, for Thee;
* An offering pure of Love, whereto
* God leadeth me.
“Feed My Sheep”
* Shepherd, show me how to go
* O'er the hillside steep,
* How to gather, how to sow, —
* How to feed Thy sheep;
* I will listen for Thy voice,
* Lest my footsteps stray;
* I will follow and rejoice
* All the rugged way.
* Thou wilt bind the stubborn will,
* Wound the callous breast,
* Make self-righteousness be still,
* Break earth's stupid rest.
* Strangers on a barren shore,
* Lab'ring long and lone,
* We would enter by the door,
* And Thou know'st Thine own;
* So, when day grows dark and cold,
* Tear or triumph harms,
* Lead Thy lambkins to the fold,
* Take them in Thine arms;
* Feed the hungry, heal the heart,
* Till the morning's beam;
* White as wool, ere they depart,
* Shepherd, wash them clean.
Communion Hymn
* Saw ye my Saviour? Heard ye the glad sound?
* Felt ye the power of the Word?
* 'T was the Truth that made us free,
* And was found by you and me
* In the life and the love of our Lord.
* Mourner, it calls you, — “Come to my bosom,
* Love wipes your tears all away,
* And will lift the shade of gloom,
* And for you make radiant room
* Midst the glories of one endless day.”
* Sinner, it calls you, — “Come to this fountain,
* Cleanse the foul senses within;
* 'T is the Spirit that makes pure,
* That exalts thee, and will cure
* All thy sorrow and sickness and sin.”
* Strongest deliverer, friend of the friendless,
* Life of all being divine:
* Thou the Christ, and not the creed;
* Thou the Truth in thought and deed;
* Thou the water, the bread, and the wine.
Laus Deo!
Written on laying the corner-stone of The Mother Church
* Laus Deo, it is done!
* Rolled away from loving heart
* Is a stone.
* Lifted higher, we depart,
* Having one.
* Laus Deo, on this rock
* (Heaven chiselled squarely good)
* Stands His church, —
* God is Love, and understood
* By His flock.
* Laus Deo, night star-lit
* Slumbers not in God's embrace;
* Be awake;
* Like this stone, be in thy place:
* Stand, not sit.
* Grave, silent, steadfast stone,
* Dirge and song and shoutings low
* In thy heart
* Dwell serene, — and sorrow? No,
* It has none,
* Laus Deo!
A Verse
Mother's New Year Gift to the Little Children
* Father-Mother God,
* Loving me, —
* Guard me when I sleep;
* Guide my little feet
* Up to Thee.
To the Big Children
* Father-Mother good, lovingly
* Thee I seek, —
* Patient, meek,
* In the way Thou hast, —
* Be it slow or fast,
* Up to Thee.