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diff --git a/old/52115-0.txt b/old/52115-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 09bbeb6..0000000 --- a/old/52115-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,4402 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Songs for All Seasons, by Cora C. Bass - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: Songs for All Seasons - -Author: Cora C. Bass - -Release Date: May 21, 2016 [EBook #52115] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SONGS FOR ALL SEASONS *** - - - - -Produced by Larry B. Harrison, Chuck Greif and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - - - - Songs for All Seasons - and - Other Poems. - - Best wishes of the season to each and every one; - May the fairest gifts attend thee till the day of time is done. - Flow thy lives as smoothly as the tide of Heavenly love, - And sweetest songs be given to the King of Kings above. - - By - Cora C. Bass. - - LOWELL, MASS. - THE LAWLER PRINTING COMPANY. - 1901. - - COPYRIGHT BY - - CORA C. BASS, - - 1901. - - - - -_PREFACE._ - - _Thanks are due to The New York Observer, Zion’s Herald, The - Standard, Boston Transcript, Portland Transcript, New England Home - Magazine and others._ - - _I would also take this opportunity of expressing my gratitude to - the many friends who gave so kindly a welcome to my first book of - poems._ - - - _CORA C. BASS._ - - - - - - -CONTENTS - - -Songs For All Seasons 1 - -Bravely Do and Bravely Bear 1 - -The Waves of Chance 2 - -Precious Seed 3 - -Ours Is The Choice 3 - -The Sum of Life 4 - -Build 4 - -The Perfect Song 5 - -Sunshine 5 - -“It Is God’s Way” 6 - -Time 6 - -May 7 - -Man and The Mist 8 - -The Flowers 9 - -Recompense 9 - -The Way 10 - -A Song 10 - -The Missing Ship 11 - -Tranquility 12 - -No Duty Is Too Difficult To Do 12 - -“Old Year, Adieu” 13 - -Washington 14 - -Comrades 15 - -Character 16 - -What Is There To Be Thankful For? 17 - -Life’s Temple 18 - -What Do We Owe Our Friends? 19 - -Memorial Day 20 - -Our City 23 - -Night 24 - -Little Wide-Awake 25 - -Try To Help Another 26 - -Independence 27 - -Contrasted Lives 29 - -The Way Will Open 29 - -Spring 30 - -Victoria 31 - -Freedom’s Son 31 - -Our River 33 - -Sunset 33 - -Memorial Poem 34 - -Blessed Was The Name She Bore 37 - -Content 38 - -Violet 39 - -“Longest Lanes Must Have a Turning” 39 - -Is There Not Something We Can Do? 40 - -Sunny Days 41 - -Bunker Hill 42 - -Doing 43 - -For Feeble Hands 43 - -Little Can’t-Wait 44 - -Make It a Pleasure 46 - -If We Had Lived When First The Pilgrims Came 47 - -Mumma, ’Ang Me ’Tocking Up 47 - -Our Joy Is Measured By What We Do 48 - -Thanksgiving 49 - -Transmuted 49 - -Christmas Gifts 49 - -What He Wanted 50 - -A Hero 51 - -Baby’s Christmas 52 - -Lovely May 53 - -The Chimes 53 - -Well May I Laugh 54 - -Santa ’s Coming 55 - -To-day and To-morrow 55 - -Commendation 55 - -Tried and True 57 - -Sunny Skies 58 - -Not a Day 59 - -Things Done 60 - -The Word 60 - -Fear Not 61 - -The Law Of The Present, Obey 61 - -Christmas Eve 62 - -In The Mirror 63 - -Living For Others 63 - -The Book of Time 63 - -Who Is This So Loved Of Yore? 64 - -Christmas Thoughts 65 - -Beauty Of The Soul 66 - -Brighter Hours 66 - -Willing To Serve 67 - -Banners Waving 67 - -Can You See a Little Face? 68 - -The Baby’s Palm 69 - -No Blessing Ever Comes By Chance 69 - -The Mayflower 70 - -The Best We Can 71 - -Something To Look Forward To 72 - -Christmas 72 - -The Brightness We Have Learned To Share 73 - -Ring Busy Bells 74 - -The River-Of-Life 76 - -Singing Songs For Jesus 77 - -Anchor Me Safe 78 - -Shine Out 78 - -Whatever Changes Time May Bring 79 - -Looking To Jesus 80 - -I Neither Faint Nor Fear 80 - -Easter-Tide 82 - -However High The Aim 82 - -He Giveth His Beloved Sleep 83 - -As We Are 83 - -Can The Willing Hands Be Weary? 84 - -The Message So Sweet 85 - -Service 85 - -Risen To-day 86 - -Another’s Place 86 - -The Window Of Life 88 - -Thou Art Mine 89 - -The Merry Bells 90 - -Follow Jesus 90 - -The Bright Side 91 - -We Shall Meet Again 92 - -The Empty Life 92 - -A Living Lord 93 - -“Have Fellowship One With Another” 94 - -Following Jesus 94 - -The Christian’s Hope 95 - -Coming Once More 95 - -The Present 97 - -Be Faithful 97 - -Why Will Ye Die 98 - -The Testing Time 99 - -Light 99 - -If a Work is Worth the Doing 100 - -Take Thy Stand 102 - -Father, Accept Our Thanks 102 - - - - - Songs for All Seasons. - - - - - SONGS FOR ALL SEASONS. - - - Songs for all seasons, thrice welcome, - And grateful they are to the ear; - The rhythmical ring of each measure - As the voice of the wood-thrush is clear. - We hear the first note of the springtime, - And quickly our hearts are attune - With melodies pulsing around us, - Till Winter, himself, is as June. - - Songs for all seasons, we love them, - The harmonies borne on the breeze. - We love the deep tones of the billows, - The brisk, busy, hum of the bees. - The harvesting songs they are pleasant, - The scent of the harvest, how sweet! - Yet never a song of the seasons - With winter’s own song can compete. - - - - -BRAVELY DO AND BRAVELY BEAR. - - - I will bravely do and bravely bear - Whatever God may send, - Well knowing He will ease my care - And His true child defend. - I will bravely do and bravely bear, - Yea, strive to do my best, - Whether the way be dark or fair, - And leave to Him the rest. - - - - - THE WAVES OF CHANCE. - - - Buffeted by the waves of chance, - Uncertain what to do, - We sail the sea of circumstance - A voyage ever new. - The beacon light too often hid, - On which we could rely, - Can Hope betray us? God forbid! - The haven still is nigh. - - Buffeted by the waves of chance, - Without the compass--choice, - Neglecting when we should advance - The one directing voice; - Bewildered by the blinding spray - We fail to count the cost, - And court the dangers of delay - When reckonings are lost. - - Buffeted by the waves of chance, - Rejecting what is best, - We scan the billows’ wild expanse - An eager, ceaseless quest. - The faithful pilot we have missed, - No fault of his, our own; - It means destruction to desist,-- - We battle on alone. - - Buffeted by the waves of chance, - Not knowing where to land, - We need a keen, unerring glance, - A firm, a steadfast hand. - The ship of life triumphant glides - Past doubt’s delusive reef, - And joyfully at anchor rides - In yon fair bay--Belief. - - - - - PRECIOUS SEED. - - - If no one planted precious seed - How barren all the land would be, - North and south and east and west, - Never plenty, never rest; - For a harvest rich and free, - Vain to plead. - - Be ready, all along the way, - To seek the motive power of life; - Free to sow, to garner in, - Love its sure reward will win. - Undismayed by doubt or strife, - Work away. - - If each man did the best he could - In winter as in summer time; - By pleasure’s side, on sorrow’s brink, - His life chain forging link by link; - Easy it would be to climb, - Doing good. - - - - - OURS IS THE CHOICE. - - - Most gracious choice! - What is a soul without a voice? - A noble thought develops noble deeds, - Words give thought freedom, words are wings, - Deft carriers of mysterious things - Too glorious to behold; - They bear swift witness to our needs - And make the true heart bold, - To mirror forth in language quaint, - The image fancy cannot paint. - - - - - THE SUM OF LIFE. - - - Day by day the weeks go by, - Month by month the swift years fly, - Hour by hour we work, we live, - Love and labor, gain and give. - - Taking blessings as they come, - In the total find life’s sum; - Bind as in a volume vast, - Read the future by the past. - - Only reaching heights sublime, - Willing step by step to climb; - Wealth to which a soul succeeds - Is to what the present leads. - - - - - BUILD. - - - How much can we hope to win, while we merely sit and plan? - It is better far to build, just building the best we can. - And pleasant it is to build though the building itself is small, - Though many a builder fail and many a building fall. - It is ever the willing hands are sure to accomplish most; - It is ever the truthful lips are least inclined to boast; - It is ever the loving heart, is the safest heart to trust; - Let us build because we may, and not because we must. - - - - - THE PERFECT SONG. - - - Shall we not gladly sing the song - A fainting heart to cheer? - Although the path is dark and long - Some saving help is near. - There is no hill so hard to climb - We may not reach the top; - It were a needless waste of time - To stop. - - Shall we not gladly sing the song - To speed men on their way, - And swell the throng, the happy throng, - Swift pressing on to-day? - Which would we choose, to bravely sing - The while we do our best, - Or to an idle fancy cling - And rest? - - In the refrain of one sweet song - Each silent voice we miss, - A song to make the feeble strong, - A song to breathe of bliss. - The song which white robed seraphs hold - All other songs above; - The perfect song, the new, the old, - Of Love. - - - - - SUNSHINE. - - - There is plenty of sunshine in the world - To brighten the darkest days; - Are we sailing on with our colors furled, - Or spread to the cheering rays? - Are we sailing on with downcast eyes, - Or eyes on the gleaming goal? - Safe is the trip of the ship of the skies - Though the waves of the clouds rough roll. - - - - -“IT IS GOD’S WAY.” - - - Rest, kindly heart, content to say - “It is God’s way, - His will be done.” - Thrice blessed thought, - With bliss enwrought, - For Freedom’s son. - - Rest, kingly soul, inspired to say - “It is God’s way, - His will be done.” - While nations weep - And vigil keep, - Thy course is run. - - Rest, martyr, lo! we hear thee say:-- - “It is God’s way, - His will be done.” - “Nearer to Thee,” - Oh, tender plea, - The crown is won. - - - - - TIME. - - - When there is urgent need for haste - Can we move slow? - Let precious moments run to waste - A chance forego? - Achievement’s dizzy heights alone - Stand forth sublime; - There is no penance to atone - For loss of time. - - - - - MAY. - - - From southern climes, O swiftly wing thy way - And pour thy symphonies in cadence sweet - Upon the air. ’Tis done, and at thy feet - Forget-me-nots soft nestle in the spray - Fresh scattered by the dew-drops in their play: - Ay, even over echo’s proud retreat, - Monadnoc, lies thy handiwork complete; - All hail thee, gentle queen,--benignant May! - - May, brilliant May, with arbutus adorned; - Fairer than life itself when hope prevails; - Thy minstrels pipe in peace from yon blue pond, - Where water-lilies spread their airy sails, - And feathered songsters wake the wood beyond - With notes more ringing sweet than nightingale’s. - - For what is England’s silver-throated bird - The heart of free America to thrill; - When robin’s merry strain, the lark’s wild trill, - Fall on the fainting faith like some fond word - From lips beloved, that other days have heard,-- - Which spurred the lagging feet to climb the hill, - That ere the “sweet note” fell forgot their will - And marveled--what the feeble steps deterred. - - Then, as on zephyr wing the summons came, - It cheered the soul triumphant on its way; - It fanned the “spark celestial” to a flame - Which shimmered through the night’s bewildered gray - To glow about the One All-Blessed Name, - And write in lines of gold: “Hail! Bonny May!” - - - - - MAN AND THE MIST. - - - He cannot sweep away the mist - However he may toil, - Content to weary years persist - It would his efforts foil. - There is a place of vision clear - Where earth and sky are blending, - Impelling him to persevere, - From height to height ascending. - - How good it is when man can rise - Above the mist-hung valley, - He must, who on his worth relies, - To his own rescue rally. - He murmurs not at rocks ahead - But vaulting lightly o’er them, - Will triumph over foemen dread - Or better yet ignore them. - - Not seeking to the mist dispel - Thus precious moments wasting, - He marvels not that others fell - While upward, onward, hasting. - He hears the sound on ev’ry hand - Of people vainly shouting, - But knowing where he soon may stand - Gives not a thought to doubting. - - He pushes on with heart athrill; - Though weaker souls may taunt him, - Succeed he must, succeed he will, - No obstacle can daunt him. - There is a place for all who climb - He cannot fail to find it, - The mist must veil a truth sublime - For there’s the sun behind it. - - - - - THE FLOWERS. - - - Weary and ill, - Fair messengers and sweet - They healthful thoughts and gracious hopes entreat, - Fragrant out breathings from some balmy hill, - Fresh from their sky-domed, leafy bowers, - Thrice blessed flowers! - - Oppressive walls - Instinctively expand, - And sunny fields unfold on either hand, - As singing rills repeat the blithe bird calls. - We walk in breezy woodland bowers, - Seeing the flowers. - - The burdened brain - Submissive to their spell - Is quick to heed the gentle tale they tell: - No baby blossom ever blooms in vain. - Borne from their dreamy, dewy bowers; - Cherish the flowers. - - - - - RECOMPENSE. - - - After the shadows, sunshine; - Quiet after the pain; - Light for the mountain passes - And for the desert rain. - After the shadows, sunshine, - After the failure, success; - Never a pleasure is taken - But something is given to bless. - - - - - THE WAY. - - - The way may be rough, - And our footsteps may falter, - Though foeman rebuff, - The right cannot alter; - As upward we climb - Each trouble outbraving, - More sweet and sublime - Is the boon we are craving. - - The way may be long, - And the day may be dreary; - The world is not wrong - Because we are weary. - A cloud may annoy, - But soon shall we read it - By light of the joy - And the peace that succeed it. - - - - - A SONG. - - - A song makes merry music ’mid the hills, - Like laughing rills. - On heaven’s bright sea its echo lingers long, - Love is a song. - A quenchless melody given to inspire - The fainting heart with bold, ambitious fire; - Springing from out the life, - As pain is born of strife. - A sweet conception of the joy to be, - Delightful, free. - Gladly our lips take up the winsome strain - And make the meaning of its birthright plain. - - - - - THE MISSING SHIP. - - - Any news yet of the missing ship? - Any news yet? we say; - A household word on every lip, - The name of that ship to-day: - The name of the ship who left her dock - In the blush of the early morn, - Has she struck, unknown, on some cruel rock - With never a voice to warn? - - Any news yet of the missing ship? - Any news yet? we cry; - We speak her name with a trembling lip, - To her aid we fain would fly. - Adrift at mercy of wind and wave; - Storm spent on a desolate shore:-- - May there be one guardian hand to save, - ’Mid the billows rush and roar. - - Any news yet of the missing ship? - Any news yet? we sigh; - We speak her name with a timid lip, - And pray for a kind reply. - For life and death in a moment blend, - Who ever the captain may be; - We never can tell how a trip will end, - When a ship puts out to sea. - - - - - TRANQUILITY. - - - We well may keep a tranquil mind - Whatever changes meeting, - The world is happier we find - For ev’ry pleasant greeting. - How easy then to work away - At each new problem set us, - For even on the darkest day - Some gleam of hope has met us. - - There is no hill so hard to climb, - We may not reach the summit; - There is no task, but patience, time, - Will grandly overcome it. - We cannot look for light in vain, - Behold it all around us; - Perplexing paths shall be made plain, - When victory has crowned us. - - - - - NO DUTY IS TOO DIFFICULT TO DO. - - - Attentive to the work the will requires - The hand achieves the task the heart desires; - No duty is too difficult to do, - The end in view. - - The end in view, if hope, or love, it be; - Content, when it can set a brother free; - Or bid him move rejoicing on his way - The while ’tis day. - - Attentive to the work the will requires, - The hand perfects the task the heart desires, - No duty is too difficult to do, - The end in view. - - - - -“OLD YEAR, ADIEU.” - - - A happy measure smites the ear. - It pealeth full, it pealeth clear; - And at the “witching hour” of night, - Awakes a rapture of delight. - Across the land, across the sea, - The merry strain is borne along; - While even seraphs bend the knee - Before the majesty of song. - - Old Year--alas, we cannot stay - Thy eager footsteps for a day; - Thy work is done, and thou shalt go, - A rival is at hand we know. - Across the land, across the sea, - The merry strain is borne along; - Ah! surely it is bliss to flee - Upon the pinions of a song. - - Hark!--clear and strong and full and free, - I hear the bells saluting thee; - They seem to say “Old Year, adieu”-- - And “halleluiah” to the New. - Across the land, across the sea, - The merry peal is borne along, - And all the world must happy be - To hear the oft-repeated song. - - - - - WASHINGTON. - - - ’Twas Christmas eve, the enemy his vigilance for once relaxed; - Well might such gusts of angry sleet the keenest zeal have overtaxed. - - The ice thronged Delaware ran bleak, but friendly, to the distant bay, - While to and fro upon his beat the sentry took his patient way. - - A gallant force full often tried was swiftly plying mattock, spade, - While those who first should stem the tide, moved calmly forth as on - parade. - - They met in silence, halted, marched, the merest motion a command, - A raging river rolled before; the “Lion” hungered near at hand. - - The watchfires gleaming through the mist seemed saying:--Courage! - men, good cheer. - None may suppose while bright we burn, that not a soldier lingers near. - - The hero faced a bank of gloom, it spoke security, success. - He saw the country free and felt a glow of holy happiness. - - Within the measure of a breath he saw the revolution o’er, - He saw Mount Vernon smile in peace above the blue Potomac’s shore. - - But happy times were yet to come, a grim invader walked the land, - Oh that he might by one dread blow bid yonder Hessian horde disband. - - The frost lay white upon his brow, the blizzard raved, he heeded not, - No hand but God’s should stand between his army and the goal it sought. - - And so he crossed the Delaware, a lesser man had quailed to view, - He crossed it, for full well he knew how brave his men although how few. - - The boat was faithful to its trust, it bore him slowly, surely, o’er; - And scorned to heed the groaning mass that pressed upon it more and more. - - So victor crowned, at early morn, through Trenton’s smoke hung streets - he passed, - Like one, who after weary days, has caught a glimpse of home at last. - - He passed in triumph, passed to find, though other battles loomed before, - That monarchy, could not again, in this free land her loss restore. - - - - - COMRADES. - - - Comrades, yea comrades in war and comrades in peace, - Comrades when bugles were sounding a blessed release; - - Comrades when bullets were whistling and death rode in sight, - Comrades ’mid battle and conquest and comrades to-night. - - Comrades when many a river ran red with blood, - Comrades when war swept us on with the force of a flood; - Comrades when charging the fortress each fain would be first; - Comrades where thickest and fiercest the hissing shells burst. - - Comrades, even as in the great conflicts of yore, - Comrades with danger behind us and danger before; - Comrades when tempests of sorrow were shrouding the sky, - Comrades to suffer and conquer, or suffer and die. - - - - - CHARACTER. - - - Armed with reason, braced by knowledge, - Surely such a one is king; - Ready in his honest manhood - For whatever fate may bring. - Public spirited, courageous, - Gauging chances at their best; - Let his character commend him, - Time will gladly do the rest. - - - - - WHAT IS THERE TO BE THANKFUL FOR? - - - “What is there to be thankful for?” - I think I hear you say: - Hope is a happy counsellor - When clouds hang dull and gray; - The sky is dark, the way is long, - The hours move sad and slow; - A fitting time for one sweet song - To set the heart aglow. - - A fitting time for one sweet song - To echo far and wide, - The sky is dark, the way is long, - My strength is sorely tried. - Though dark the sky and long the way, - I’ll keep love’s armor bright. - Still singing, through the night, the day, - I know God’s will is right. - - How oft the eager pulse must thrill - To robin’s liquid note; - A merry tune, the May-buds trill - ’Neath winter’s shielding coat. - There sounds a gracious hymn of praise - From ev’ry living thing; - Because the sun refuse its rays - Can I refuse to sing? - - Can I refuse to sing when some - Might find the timid strain - More powerful than trump or drum, - And swell the glad refrain? - Lo, Christ has made me free to rise - From man’s forlorn estate, - To look beyond the stormy skies - And see the pearly gate. - - What is there to be thankful for? - A will that would obey; - A soul that stands as conqueror, - And this, that I may pray. - Lo, Christ has made me free to rise - From man’s forlorn estate, - I look beyond the stormy skies - And see the pearly gate. - - - - - LIFE’S TEMPLE. - - - How shall we plan life’s temple? With a height divine, - Wherein rare workmanship and worth combine; - Or low and rambling, that the prisoned soul - May trace no semblance of the wondrous whole, - To which its hopes so eagerly aspire? - We can but fashion what we most admire. - - How shall we plan life’s temple? By design complete, - Which on the world’s highway we fain would meet; - Then ere Night dons her star-encrusted veil - To silent journey over hill and dale, - The dream of youth, at least, may proudly stand-- - An ideal structure in an ideal land. - - How shall we build life’s temple? Build it stone on stone - And ever build, no part abides alone. - We labor vainly if we fail to know - A firm foundation though ’tis builded slow, - Is built to stand, when hearts are bold to dare - And bound to conquer as to do and bear. - - - - - WHAT DO WE OWE OUR FRIENDS? - - - What do we owe our friends? We owe them love, not fear, - Love that the closer clings when storms are near; - Love that shall speak in eye, in voice, in hand, - And steadfast stand. - - What do we owe our friends but loyalty and trust? - Forever faithful, sympathetic, just; - A peerless comforter, and shield and guide, - Whate’er betide. - - What do we owe our friends? The kinship of good deeds, - A soul responsive to their deepest needs, - To share life’s burdens all the weary way, - And watch, and pray. - - What do we owe our friends? The patience which forbears; - And fond communion ’mid their joys, their cares; - A gracious spirit firm to do its best, - Nor doubt, nor rest. - - What do we owe our friends? Kind thoughts and pleasant cheer - Born of affection tender and sincere, - And ready service, the efficient seal - Of earnest zeal. - - What do we owe our friends? We owe them love, not fear, - Love that the closer clings when storms are near, - Love that shall speak in eye, in voice, in hand, - And steadfast stand. - - - - - MEMORIAL DAY. - -[Dedicated to the G. A. R. Read at Huntington Hall.] - - - With muffled drum, with banners furled, with martial step and slow, - Oh, gather by the sacred dust, the dust that lies below; - Oh, gather by the sacred dust of comrades loyal, true, - Wave over them thy benison, the red, the white, the blue. - - May this fair Union stand complete, a monument divine - To those who sacrificed their lives at freedom’s holy shrine; - Upon each thirtieth of May with solemn tread we come, - And pay them tender tribute to the throbbing of the drum. - - We marched with them, we fought with them, our bed the sullen sod, - With not a star above us and without a hope, save God; - ’Mid cannon’s roar, the halt, the dash, the victory, retreat, - We saw them falling ’round us as the sickle fells the wheat. - - Oh, dark the days that followed fast on Baltimore, Bull Run, - Beneath the torrid fierceness of a blazing southern sun; - With Butler in his bold campaigns, with Sherman by the sea, - We shoulder stood to shoulder in the battle of the free. - - And ever through the living past there flows a tender vein, - To stir the heart and open wounds that bleed and bleed again, - As tearful eyes and empty arms to death itself appealed, - Alas for those who sadly knelt on Desolation’s field! - - Oh, there are many lonely lie beneath the rev’rent blue, - But they will not be missing from the final grand review; - Let wives and mothers gather near, and little children weep - Above the dreary pillows where the martyred heroes sleep. - - The martyred heroes; yonder shaft of granite guards a spot, - The sepulchre of comrades that can never be forgot; - While pride endures, and nations thrive, and patriots survive - Must Lowell keep the mem’ry of her own great loss alive. - - She scatters garlands o’er her dead and softly tolls the bells, - But for her martyred heroes are the precious immortelles. - Oh, Ladd and Whitney, side by side, in peaceful silence rest, - Among the fairest jewels that adorn Columbia’s breast. - - We cannot think of them as lost, for moving on and on - The soul shall rise triumphant on the resurrection morn; - Upon the angel wings of prayer let thought sublime ascend - Until we feel the grandeur that the dying comprehend. - - With muffled drum, with banners furled, with martial step and slow, - Oh, gather by the sacred dust, the dust that lies below; - And mingle with the breath of flowers that sigh above the brave, - The note of lamentation, like an echo from the grave. - - The laurel wreath, the tearful eye and Honor’s fairest crown - Are drops in life’s great ocean to the price that they laid down. - Hush! listen to the sacred dirge, it swells,--it sobs,--it dies: - Until we see them marching, marching home beyond the skies. - - - - - OUR CITY. - - - Turn backward the close written pages, - Close written with deeds breathing praise, - A secret attracting the sages, - The fruitful reward of our gaze. - Yes, turn back the close written pages, in gratitude seeking the clue; - Be thankful to find it and wonder to such a fair record review. - - Her history daily unfolding, - Through life of the daughter, the son, - From models the moments are molding - The fame of our city is won. - Her rapid development shows us, the Merrimack’s run to the sea - Has not been more true to its mission than she to her promise will be. - - How patiently Labor has striven, - Bespeaking the boon of success; - The loom and the spindle once given - Have proven as guerdons to bless. - The fields boldly trodden by red men, in league with each meadow and - hill, - Where lingered the good Wannalancit, now answer to Industry’s will. - - While yet a mere village came duly - Determined and far seeing men, - So skillfully wrought they, so truly, - The present was plain to them, then. - They planned with a clear sighted vision, their eyes on futurity bent, - Ambitious to build to their utmost, that none might have cause to lament. - - The hand-maiden Knowledge beside them - Led Genius, twin-brother of Art; - A blessing could not be denied them, - Each steadfastly doing his part. - The summons of Lincoln stood honored as soon as the summons was heard, - And later when Cuba was calling how many went forth at the word. - - Adversity’s forces defying - The County, the Country, the State - On Lowell are wise in relying - Till tempests of trouble abate. - Rejoice in the marvellous brightness illuming the glorious past, - Prosperity’s presence will grandly the scope of the future forecast. - - - - - NIGHT. - - - The mellow moonbeams glint along the waves, - Beyond the inky blur yon frowning height - Full oft impresses on the tranquil deep. - What eagle glances pierce the veil of gloom! - Each galaxy of light proclaims a town, - Instinct with life, as childhood is with joy. - Afar, like some dim phantom of the hour, - A liner speeds majestic on her way; - While beaconward a schooner lies at ease, - A graceful shadow on a silvered sea. - - - - - LITTLE WIDE-AWAKE. - - - Would you see a winsome fairy with her baby eyes alight, - As she wrestles with the problem: “Oh, will Santy come to-night?” - Mischief beaming in the glances where the dainty dimples hide, - ’Mid a wealth of wiles bewitching at the merry Christmas tide. - Twice her eager ears have heard, - Sounds as if the yule log stirred; - Thrice the reindeer bells have rung - Since the twilight hour was young. - - From her rosy lips and fingers honey-sweet caresses fall, - Like a tender benediction on the loving hearts of all; - And with each exultant jingle from the busy street below - Hark the joyful proclamation:--“He is coming now, I know.” - Singing blithely as a wren:-- - “Peace on earth, good will to men.” - Wafted on the strain so sweet, - Surely earth and heaven meet. - - How she warms and glows and sparkles, like a precious human gem, - Till she kneels beside the chimney at the setting of P.M. - With her gentle face uplifted and the drooping lashes wet, - Whispering the fond petition which she never can forget:-- - For the lonely and the sad - That the morrow may be glad, - And that Kris herself will bless - With just one benign caress. - - Hurry, darling, let us go to the magic realm of sleep, - It is over there, you know, we may hear a love-bird peep; - Hang the stocking up in state where Saint Nicholas must see, - Then away to fair dreamland on the fast express with me. - Happy Little Wide-Awake, - Santy comes and no mistake; - But she misses half the bliss - Of his pleasant smile and kiss. - - - - - TRY TO HELP ANOTHER. - - - Try to help another whether friend or foe, - And the sweet soul-sunshine shall the brighter glow; - Try to help another fainting by the way, - Lo! the night of sorrow turneth into day. - Try to help another, be he small or great, - Try to help him onward ere it is too late; - Try to help him onward, try to help him up, - Add a heav’nly flavor to his bitter cup. - - - - - INDEPENDENCE. - - - Dimly was the magnitude of the vast result foreseen - When England smote America on Lexington’s fair green. - A just retaliation of the most unrighteous blow, - The hand of the oppressor set the nation’s heart aglow. - - There was burning indignation, it swept the outraged land, - The blood of murdered brothers grew too urgent to withstand. - Responsive to the message men were quickened by the news, - Confronting vital issues little need to stop and choose. - - The spirit of the people sympathized with those who bore - The burden of the battle and the sword was sheathed no more. - For how could those who suffered be content to bend the knee - To tyranny? ’Twere “better far to die or to be free.” - - A noble deed is eloquent to noble deeds inspire, - With broken ranks or columns massed we meet the foeman’s fire. - ’Twere better far to perish than to linger here a slave, - God favored independence in the leader, true, he gave. - - In that dread hour both sad and sweet which hallowed Bunker Hill, - The bud of freedom flourished in an atmosphere of will, - As Prescott faltered step by step down yonder rugged slope, - His being conquered sorrow in a sudden rush of hope. - - While valiantly contending for the long defended field, - He felt Columbia’s future to her noble sons appealed. - The effort was successful in the impulse many gained, - To consecrate their powers to a cause so well maintained. - - As Prescott faltered step by step down yonder rugged slope, - His being conquered sorrow in a sudden rush of hope. - In place of troops and smoking spires a peaceful city stood; - No foreign forces fettered her, she wrought for human good. - - The vessels raining shot and shell, gave way to ships of trade; - No horde, with hostile purpose, dared the busy streets invade. - A whisper of its presence would united wrath awake, - Beware of idle sophistries, a nation’s life at stake. - - The nation’s life at stake, one word will rouse us from our rest, - The patriot stands ready to submit to sternest test. - What sacrifice is too severe when danger is at hand? - The hero’s arm is strong to strike for home and native land. - - - - - CONTRASTED LIVES. - - - Successful men, - Woo the diffusive fire - And yet feel cold. - What of the homeless, then, - In pitiful attire, - Poor, feeble, old? - - Affluence weeps, - A bird the weather kills, - Great souls despair. - Love willing vigil keeps, - Till want all feeling chills, - Frozen by care. - - Think not to choose, - Or mere convenience seek, - Some faint heart cheer. - Who comfort could refuse, - To weary ones and weak - Perishing near? - - - - - THE WAY WILL OPEN. - - - The way will open it is true - If I but do my best, - I’ll do the things I find to do - And leave to God the rest. - - Although the clouds are hanging low - And all the way seems dark, - I’ll do the very best I know:-- - The dove was in the ark. - - The way will open; Soul, be strong, - And rise to do thy best. - The shadows cannot last for long, - There’s roses in the west. - - What matter is the tempest’s rage? - I’ve but to do my part, - ’Tis love alone that can assuage - The tempest of the heart. - - The way will open it is true - I’ve but to do my best, - I’ll do the things I find to do - And leave to God the rest. - - - - - SPRING. - - - Bright-eyed goddess,--witching spring,--as thy amber tresses glow, - Kindled to immortal flame - Is the breath of honor,--fame. - Well may poets hymn thy praise,--fancy flutter to and fro,-- - To a measure full and fleet, to a measure stately, slow; - Thence with heaven for an aim, - Rushing on with glad acclaim: - Hearken to the strain and know, blessed Beulah here below, - Wake! The living notes prolong in a symphony of song, - Floating on the perfumed air - In the angel arms of prayer; - Welcome goddess, spring divine; beauty visions ’round thee twine; - Violets and blossoms sweet - Nestle fondly at thy feet. - - - - - VICTORIA. - - - When have men or nations seen - A life, to rival England’s queen? - What vital interests compressed - Within its span, what truths confessed, - A long, a useful, noble reign. - - Maidenhood and age attain - A broader meaning as we view, - Her record, glorious as true. - Each subject, brave to do his part, - Found ready welcome to her heart. - - She, the soldier’s work well done, - Proclaimed the wounded hero “Son”; - A royal soul alone reveres, - Worth, where ever it appears, - As light must all the brighter shine. - - Springing from a source divine; - Benevolence, when simply shown, - Will gracefully adorn a throne: - The righteous wisdom of her aim, - Glorifies Victoria’s name. - - - - - FREEDOM’S SON. - - - Do you love him, Freedom’s son, - Great, Immortal Washington? - Is your raptured soul athrill, - At his majesty of will? - Unsubdued by doubts and fears, - Proudest of all proud careers, - It was his to boldly climb - Till his deeds stood forth sublime. - - Can you see him, Freedom’s son, - Great, immortal, Washington? - See the armies he has led - Up and on where heroes bled? - Battle’s brunt, the foeman’s fire, - Seem but given to inspire, - Well his spirit might prevail - For he could not, would not fail. - - Can you see him, Freedom’s son, - Great, immortal, Washington? - Face the ice-thronged Delaware - Knowing death itself is there? - Hark! the rasping, sharp as steel, - How it throbs along the keel; - Fog-enwrapped but firm he stands - With the future in his hands. - - Can you see him, Freedom’s son, - Great, immortal, Washington? - Called to crown a record fair - In the Presidential chair. - First of many bound to own - This brave people’s heart a throne, - On the honor roll of fame - Men must ever read his name. - - Can you see him, Freedom’s son, - Great, immortal, Washington? - Surely we are wreathing now, - Fadeless laurel for his brow. - When we meet to speak his praise, - Speak the wisdom of his ways, - In a nation’s life we view * * * - Washington, the tried, the true. - - - - - OUR RIVER. - - - Our river, thine and mine; - With what intrepid haste it leaps the falls - Glancing, dancing, whirling, purling, on - Over the gleaming rocks, whose falchions keen - Would rend for aye the glinting canopy - Which spans the flood in rainbow-tinted folds. - Anon the waters lift impulsive arms - Toward yonder sun through bridal veils of mist. - Never is man more moved than when he stands - Gauging the force Omnipotence creates. - - - - - SUNSET. - - - See the cloudlets float to rest, - At the portals of the west; - How they glimmer, how they glance - In a merry sunset dance. - - Beautiful and sweet and fair, - As the spirit of a prayer; - With what confidence they lie - On the bosom of the sky. - - How they crown the brow of night - With a wreath of ruddy light; - Fair as any flower that blows - In the twilight, pink and rose. - - Even so our earthly way, - It will not be always gray; - Soon we, too, shall float to rest-- - Past the portals of the west. - - - - - MEMORIAL POEM. - -[Dedicated to the G. A. R. and read at Huntington Hall.] - - - Oh, peaceful are the humble graves of fallen comrades far and near, - In sweet communion with the gift we gladly offer year by year - To those who knelt at Freedom’s shrine in all the beauteous bloom - of youth, - And fell, a living sacrifice, upon the altar stone of truth. - - Though many of our brave marines are resting in the boundless deep, - No band of brothers bending near, the stars eternal vigil keep; - If we can never kneel and say “A noble comrade lies below,” - Upon the honor roll of fame his record shall the brighter glow. - - Where legions of the “great unknown” beneath the dainty lilies sleep, - Let little children softly come above the sacred dust to weep; - A solemn sweetness fills the hours when thus devoted to the dead - Who fearless faced the cannon’s mouth and for Columbia fought and bled. - - Oh, how we love to gather here upon each thirtieth of May, - And dedicate our choicest thoughts to glorify the Soldiers’ Day; - Beyond the worth of worldly store, or empty plaudits of renown, - The broken shackles of the slave are jewels in the heavenly crown. - - To follow Butler’s bold campaigns must every loyal heart inspire, - As when he woke the gallant Sixth to kindle treason’s funeral pyre, - While Ladd and Whitney doomed to fall that dismal day at Baltimore - Were eager with their dying breath to hail the stars and stripes - once more. - - * * * * * - - Athwart the face of Memory’s page we watch the busy brush of Time - Indorsing each heroic deed with one decisive word--“Sublime!” - The voice of victory arose amid the ardor of the strife, - And the patriots--these before me, had preserved a nation’s life. - - Consult the dreary prison pen--the wounded heroes side by side, - Who in the weary march of months were sadly wishing they had died; - And marvel not that some are bowed as with a heavy weight of years, - But give to them a gracious meed, of love and gratitude, and tears. - - Behold the spires of Gettysburg, the waving wheat, the orchard fair, - How calm it was until the strength of hostile forces entered there, - And then the awful rush and roar of surging armies, day by day, - Of Sickles in the grim retreat, and Sedgwick as he stood at bay. - - Oh, how the waiting North rejoiced when Hancock’s sturdy arm prevailed, - Defeated in that last dread charge the flower of the South had failed; - And we have welcomed here tonight the comrades who as conquerors stood, - Whose hands thenceforth were closely linked in one eternal brotherhood. - - And while they mourned the tender ties which lay unheeded mid the slain, - Yet not a man would dare proclaim that such as these had died in vain. - Oh, beautiful, and bright, and fair, the glorious banner of the free, - A peerless synonym of right, of hope, of love, of liberty. - - And never shall a fold be rent, a color fade, a star be lost, - For freedom sees its azure field with gems of precious blood embossed; - We well may hush our hearts to hear the thrilling dirges sob and die, - Until they almost seem to us like angel whispers floating by. - - - - - BLESSED WAS THE NAME SHE BORE. - - - Wake! oh, nation; wake, and sing! - Bid the “arch of heaven” ring; - Praise, in sweet accord, our pride-- - Thirty summers Neptune’s bride. - Kearsarge, a hymn to thee - Floateth over land and sea; - Hark, the chorus! hear it soar-- - “Blessed was the name she bore.” - - Volumes of heroic verse - Shall thy victories rehearse; - Well may rhythm swiftly chime - To a measure full--sublime - Kearsarge, a hymn to thee - Floateth over land and sea; - Hark, the chorus! hear it soar-- - “Blessed was the name she bore.” - - Though Roncador--reef of woe-- - Like a traitor laid thee low; - As Aurora cleaves the sky, - Rise! the “god of storms” defy. - Kearsarge, a hymn to thee - Floateth over land and sea; - Hark, the chorus! hear it soar-- - “Blessed was the name she bore.” - - Swift, as light along the hill, - Fly! Columbia’s bosom thrill; - Crucified by flood, by fire-- - Come, Futurity, inspire. - Kearsarge, a hymn to thee - Floateth over land and sea; - Hark, the chorus! hear it soar-- - “Blessed was the name she bore.” - - Lo! thy ashes softly lie - ’Neath a tender southern sky; - Yet on honor’s tide ye sail, - Like a ship before the gale. - Kearsarge, a hymn to thee - Floateth over land and sea; - Hark, the chorus! hear it soar-- - “Blessed was the name she bore.” - - - - - CONTENT. - - - Is there a place in the whole, wide, world - Like the beautiful vale content; - The fair, white, banner of peace unfurled - As our hopes in one are blent - By mutual glad consent. - - Is there a place the foe cannot reach, - Stands the dark featured King subdued? - Is each prayer the Spirit would teach - With gracious power imbued - Are the thought rifts rainbow hued? - - Is there a place where the weary rest - Knowing how well the past was meant? - In sharing the birthright of the blest, - Bliss of heaven to thee is lent - Beautiful vale of content. - - - - - VIOLET. - - - Violet tender and sweet clasped to the bosom of earth, - Lift up thy bonny blue eye, happy the day of thy birth. - Thine is a glorious lot, bearing the word of the king, - Calling the world to rejoice breathing of beauty and spring; - Violet, tender and sweet. - - Violet tender and sweet plucked from the bosom of earth - Lift up thy bonny blue eye, happy the day of thy birth. - Close in thy petals of pearl, of beautiful amethyst cling, - Fresh with the balm of the wood the odorous essence of spring; - Violet, tender and sweet. - - - - -“LONGEST LANES MUST HAVE A TURNING.” - - - Shall we dare to be despondent, though the way is rough and cold? - “Longest lanes must have a turning,” is a saying never old. - Who would feebly faint or falter on life’s journey? Day by day - Grateful sunbeams softly greet us, through the heavy mists of gray; - Blessed gifts the Great All-Father sends to cheer our earthly lot, - And to whisper, sweetly, fondly, that we never are forgot. - - Ay, ’tis hard when dreary trouble comes to pierce the faithful heart, - And hope spreads her airy pinions as if eager to depart; - Sickness, with its hand of iron--Justice, with a frowning face, - Wilfully conspire to crush us in a cruel, stern embrace: - Shall we bow beneath the burden, though it is so hard to bear, - Or arise and do our utmost, boldly breaking from despair? - - Brothers, sisters, little children,--weak with hunger, bleeding feet,-- - Bravely meet the dusky foemen, make the victory complete. - Many weep o’er thy misfortunes,--courage! yet will come a friend; - Do not sink upon the highway, surely this is not the end. - Let us use our best endeavor, ever seeking out the light,-- - “Longest lanes must have a turning,”--one is even now in sight. - - - - - IS THERE NOT SOMETHING WE CAN DO? - - - Is there not something we can do, - To smooth the rugged road? - Men struggle onward, death in view, - Each with his own great load. - Men struggle onward, weak of arm, - But chivalrous of soul; - Where is the hand to do them harm, - Or keep them from the goal. - - What joy to honest worth assist, - To move the stumbling stone; - Good vantage ground is often missed - When pressing on alone. - To bring a burdened brother ease, - Though long the way and rough; - Or bid the storm of trouble cease, - We cannot do enough. - - - - - SUNNY DAYS. - - - Of course we value sunny days - And all of nature’s pleasant ways, - The merry birds, the balmy sky, - The happy brooklet laughing by, - With the clouds come darker hours, - Good for us as for the flowers. - - How bright the meadow after rain; - How calm the heart is after pain. - We owe indeed a wondrous debt - To ev’ry trouble bravely met; - A debt that no one ever pays, - Our thanks are for the sunny days. - - - - - BUNKER HILL. - - - From Cambridge, through the solemn moving night, - With firm determination to be free, - Our fathers came, that this proud shaft might be - Synonymous of liberty and right. - Pale moonbeams strove to cast a languid light, - Upon the patriot band and that true sea, - Which once was bold to brew good English tea. - Scarce hidden by a mask too frail for flight, - Across “The Neck” their fearless footsteps sped, - Ere morning could the sullen east assail - To mingle with her coming joy and dread, - The fierce redoubt and breastwork marked a trail - Of glory, up the path where Honor led, - Those master spirits eager to prevail. - - A gallant sight and noble, did it quell, - The squadron swan-like sweeping to and fro, - Upon the Mystic and the Charles? oh, no! - The Britons captive to the subtle spell - Yet read the meaning of its signal well. - When from the “Lively” came a sudden glow, - Then swift the leaden hail fell blow on blow, - Gage, governor, commander, heard the knell - Of that first warning boom and wounded pride - Spoke in his wrathful face, his hurried gait, - As gazing o’er the smoothly flowing tide - He felt his own wise plan had come too late; - But on an easy conquest still relied - To claim those frowning heights, the town, the state. - - - - - DOING. - - - Keep doing, always doing, - Wishing, dreaming, what are they? - Tempters idle steps pursuing, - Foemen ambushing the way. - - Keep doing, bravely doing, - Never falter, never fail, - Day by day your strength renewing, - Gird your armor on, prevail! - - Keep doing, wisely doing, - Working upward as you may; - Human interest accruing - Will a high percentage pay. - - Keep doing, boldly doing, - Use the talents time may lend; - Right upholding, self reviewing, - The down-trodden truth defend. - - Keep doing, ever doing, - Trusting, when you cannot see; - Fearing not, a tempest brewing, - Knowing what the end will be. - - - - - FOR FEEBLE HANDS. - - - It is not so much what we wish that counts, - As the little we really achieve; - The duty we do to-day amounts - To more than we ever perceive. - There are tasks just fitted for feeble hands, - For the feeble as well as the strong; - Be bold to stand where the right demands - And bound to vanquish wrong. - - - - - LITTLE CAN’T-WAIT. - - - Have you met her? Little Can’t-Wait, she is sweet and bright and fair, - With her sunny, floating, ringlets and bewitching baby air; - Just a pretty bit of mischief all impatient now to know - If St. Nicholas, dear fellow, by her tiny socks will go. - - Quite alone on Christmas evening, she has planned it out to hide - And is bound to capture Santy, brisk and jolly from his ride. - Little Can’t-Wait is so winsome as she lays this clever plot, - That I toss her to the ceiling and caress her on the spot. - - But the darling, I’ve a notion, like a bird upon its nest - In the cosy chimney corner will glide softly off to rest; - And her brown eyes will not open till the rosy morning light, - When she’ll wake to find Kris Cringle caught her napping in the night. - - Have you met her? Little Can’t-Wait: met the witchery of eyes - Where the halo of affection in its angel beauty lies? - While I toss her to the ceiling and caress her sunny hair, - She is deep in speculation, seeing Santy ev’ry where. - - Hearing of his sturdy reindeer, rapidly they speed along, - We can barely catch the echo of his merry jest and song; - Of the bountiful attractions, of the season and the night, - Of the pleasures and the pastimes such as give a child delight. - - Little Can’t-Wait as I chatter hangs enraptured on the tale, - With an interest in Santy that was never known to fail. - Whereupon I whisper gaily and receive a roguish glance, - Here’s the story Kris will tell you if you give him half a chance. - - “Have you heard how little Can’t-Wait, just a year ago to-day, - Formed a clever plan, the mischief, and when twilight softly lay - Over this fair scene around us, crept into a dainty nest, - In the cosy chimney corner where the evening shadows rest. - - There, upon the faintest jingle of my sleigh bells drawing nigh - To triumphant watch my fingers pile the tiny stockings high; - And so certain was the conquest that the elf was bound to make, - I was downright sorry, darling, to the pretty picture break. - - It was pleasant to be welcomed by a most enticing view, - Of a dainty bit of muslin and a golden lock or two. - As I crept up close and closer to the crimson curtained chair, - Well, a secret’s none in telling, _some one_, slyly kissed her there. - - When those baby eyes were blinking in the rosy morning light, - They were just too late to see me as I bounded out of sight.” - Little Can’t-Wait shyly dimples, firm this Christmas eve to keep, - And to not be caught “_a-napping_,” even though she is asleep. - - - - - MAKE IT A PLEASURE. - - - Make it a pleasure, the task you would shun, - Joy beyond measure will follow “well done!” - There is no trouble that cannot be eased, - Bliss will redouble when others are pleased. - - Make it a pleasure to work while you may, - Time is a treasure, the crown of to-day; - Hard is the waiting with nothing to do, - Stand not debating but carry things through. - - Make it a pleasure to help people thrive, - Man may not measure, he only may strive; - There is no trouble that cannot be eased, - Bliss will redouble when others are pleased. - - - - - IF WE HAD LIVED WHEN FIRST THE PILGRIMS CAME. - - - If we had lived, when first the Pilgrims came, - Founding on a rock their future fame; - Humbly would we celebrate the day - Love alone can make care free and gay. - - If we had lived when Freedom’s cause was young, - Often would the heart be sorrow wrung; - Yet when war and famine thinned our ranks - Find its sweetest joy in giving thanks. - - If we had lived, no light on either hand, - Trusting, when we could not understand; - Pressed by want and danger all the way - Thankful would we then have been to-day. - - - - - MUMMA ’ANG ME ’TOCKING UP. - - - Mumma ’ang me ’tocking up, - Want a yamb, a tilver tup, - ’Orse, a tart, a dum, a s’ed - An a nighty, nithe and wed. - Me dus awsul want a dun - Bang-a-banging, dus for fun; - An a ’teamer dat will say - Toot-a-toot, toot, duss iss way. - Wite a ’etter, mumma dear, - Wite it bid so he can hear - ’Tanty Taws, be thure an ’top. - Div me a whole baby s’op. - All de doodies, oo ull know - Yarf an kie, an soot, an blow; - Want an ’oop, a joll, a s’ate, - ’Ots and ’ote of sings to ate; - Tanny, ’ugar, feenuts, jum - Tell him dat he mustest tum. - Weed it mumma, so to see - If oo said it dus like me. - It ull do iss time I dess, - Ceps me want a pwetty dwess, - Thure the ’tocking don’t forget - Thign with love, from ’Ittle Pet. - - - - - OUR JOY IS MEASURED BY WHAT WE DO. - - - We bring to the Lord and we call it giving, - It is merely paying a debt we owe. - The life we from day to day are living - Is broader, deeper, than man may know. - - While striving to walk in the path of duty, - The way may be rugged and yet be plain. - A thought may be true, conceal its beauty, - We bury a bliss and sigh in vain, - - We work for the Lord, nor faint, nor falter, - However perplexing the task may be; - The promise is sure, it cannot alter, - There’s strength and enough for you and me. - - Consider the song the angels were singing - That first glad Christmas the world ever knew. - God needs the offering men are bringing - Our joy is measured by what we do. - - - - - THANKSGIVING. - - - Be grateful, oh my soul, while blessings I recount, - Although I may not hope to tell the full amount; - Encompassed oftentimes by pain, and fear, and doubt, - Whence, daily, comes the strength, I could not do without? - - Be grateful, oh my soul, give thanks and be at peace, - The night of grief shall pass, the din of strife shall cease. - As there is not one heart its secret thoughts can hide, - So I am not alone whatever may betide. - - Be grateful, oh my soul, for gratitude is sweet, - One sympathizing friend can make my joy complete. - For gifts of life and love shall I not offer praise? - Knowing every week has seven thanksgiving days. - - - - - TRANSMUTED. - - - Bright bloom the roses of the eventide, - Roses whose parted petals never fall; - Transmuted, they in living light, - Vibrate responsive to the heart of man, - And man to God. - - - - - CHRISTMAS GIFTS. - - - I like to watch the Christmas gifts, so gaily they go by, - To win sweet words from sweeter lips, the love light to the eye. - The mother’s face will beam with joy, the children dance with glee, - When, as the evening closes in, we gather round the tree. - - I like to watch the Christmas gifts, a father’s willing hands - Are bearing swiftly homeward for he always understands - Just what will give most pleasure to the hearts he longs to please, - Although he may not bring them, either wealth, or power, or ease. - - I like to watch the Christmas gifts, they gladly troop along, - The plain, the proud, the practical, a merry, motley throng. - It matters not how much they cost in money, none may miss, - Giving at least one person some share of Christmas bliss. - - - - - WHAT HE WANTED. - - - “Mamma dear, I am so sleepy; will good Santy truly come - With a bang-er-bang, a ’teamer, and a ball, a kite, a drum? - I just awesul want a rainbow for whenever papa’s late, - We could wave it from the window and he would not miss the gate. - It is snowing, now I wonder if I ask Kris Kringle nice, - Would he carve a baby city from a tiny bit of ice? - Have a lot of ’tores, and turches, and a sun, and moon, and ’tars, - With the dearest, sweetest station, for my toot-er-tooting cars? - - Hang a ’tocking over yonder; clear the corner for the toys, - Then just write a line to tell him I’m the very best of boys; - And, oh mamma, when you write it, write it bid so he can hear, - For he didn’t see our chimney as he hurried by last year; - Oh, I should be dreadful sorry if to-night he passed again, - So be careful, mamma darling, and be sure and write it plain. - Pin it close beside the mantle where he cannot fail to see, - Tissmas is so long in coming to a little chap like me.” - - - - - A HERO. - - - Every man’s a hero who dares - And forbears. - Every man’s a hero who will stand - Faithful to the interests at hand. - Where so e’er its starry folds we see - Ours shall be the banner of the free; - Gladly, boldly, battle for the right - Day follows night. - - - - - BABY’S CHRISTMAS. - - - Baby’s face is in a glow, - Baby’s eyes are bright - Oh, would you the reason know? - Santa comes to-night. - Santa Claus of whom she’s heard, - Heard but never met; - Santa Claus--a magic word, - With what joy beset. - - Baby’s heart is beating fast, - Beating with delight; - “Here is Santa; come at last!” - Is the darling right? - Papa’s feet are at the door - Papa’s arms are wide, - Precious kisses, gems galore, - Sweetest gifts provide. - - Baby journeys off to rest, - Cuddled close and warm - In the arms she loves the best, - Safe from every storm. - And she has the strangest dream - Seeing Santa stand, - Chirping to his reindeer team, - Trophies in his hand. - - But the wondrous part is this:-- - Santa’s face appears - Just like one she loves to kiss, - Wreathed in smiles and tears. - Brightest visions come to bless - Baby’s waking eyes, - And her very looks confess - All her glad surprise. - - - - - LOVELY MAY. - - A RONDEAU. - - - O lovely May, throw thy soft spell - On mountain proud and smiling dell, - The world is kneeling at thy shrine-- - Fond captive of thy moods divine,-- - And nations rise thy charms to tell. - - Where could we meet thy parallel? - Who would thy witching arts repel? - Who dares thy choicest gifts define, - O lovely May? - - And Nature?--Ah, she loves thee well, - For Hope and Youth beside thee dwell. - Thy sister months with thee combine - As lesser streamlets swell the Rhine. - ’Twere sin against thee to rebel, - O lovely May. - - - - - THE CHIMES. - - - Hark to the voice of the joyful chimes - Echoing on to fairer climes, - Echoing on from hill to hill; - “Peace on earth, good will, good will!” - - Hark to the song of prayer, of praise, - Speeding along the world’s highways, - Echoing on from hill to hill: - “Peace on earth, good will, good will!” - - Hark to the melody sweet and clear - Swiftly borne to the eager ear; - Echoing on from hill to hill: - “Peace on earth, good will, good will!” - - Hark to the carol of life, of love, - Wafted down from the realms above. - Echoing on from hill to hill: - “Peace on earth, good will, good will!” - - - - - WELL MAY I LAUGH. - - - Well may I laugh when the earth is aglow - With bountiful gifts love alone can bestow; - The manifold works from the Father’s own hand, - But image the wealth of Immanuel’s land. - - Well may I laugh when the sun is so bright, - The mountains and valleys are bathing in light; - The breezes of summer and winter’s shrill blast, - All telling of greatness and glory at last. - - Well may I laugh from pure gladness of heart, - For in this fair world even I have a part; - There is not a day but what something is done, - Some good is accomplished, some victory won. - - Well may I laugh, it is pleasant to live, - To love and to labor, to gain and to give; - While never a pleasure in life can compare, - With pleasures eternal that all men may share. - - - - - SANTA’S COMING. - - - Listen darling, Santa’s coming, - Hark the reindeer at the door - Hear the carol he is humming, - Sweeter, clearer, than before. - Look what treasures he is bringing - Dainty trifles, works of art, - While the music of his singing - Is as nectar to the heart. - - Listen, darling, Santa’s coming! - Hush! his feet are at the door; - Hear the carol he is humming - Now the busy day is o’er. - Hurry, dearest, run to meet him, - He must never wait outside - When your merry face can greet him, - Rosy cheeked and eager eyed. - - Listen, darling, Santa’s coming! - He is with us, at the door; - Hear the carol he is humming, - Bid him welcome home once more. - Throw your loving arms around him, - Call him by his own true name - For a daughter’s love has found him - Prince of Santas just the same. - - - - - TO-DAY AND TO-MORROW. - - - Let us be brave, to-day, to-day, - And ne’er content to borrow, - From lovely things that blithely stray - Adown a fair to-morrow. - - To-day is ours for what we will - And victory is waiting, - If we but press from hill to hill - No jot of strength abating. - - What though these willing hands are weak, - And brightest paths are dreary; - The heights will not be always bleak, - The feet not always weary. - Let us be glad, to-day, to-day, - And ne’er content to borrow, - From lovely things that blithely stray - Adown a fair to-morrow. - - - - - COMMENDATION. - - - Shall we stand blindly commending person or place? - Wide is the margin that lies between feeling and face, - Life is steadily tending to joy or despair, - What for the bliss of the future, will not a soul dare? - - Daily we seek to move forward fast as we can - Giving kind thought to the welfare of each brother man, - Though the bright sunshine is hidden, clouds will uproll - Bidding the glory of heaven transfigure the soul. - - - - - TRIED AND TRUE. - - - Loyal freemen, tried and true, - Gallantly they stand, - With the sacrifice in view - Battling for our land. - Battling for her highest good, - Battling for her life; - Even as their fathers stood - Ready for the strife. - - Where the smoke of conflict clung - Like a dreary pall, - There was work for old and young - Work for one and all. - Work that stirred the nation’s heart - For the cannon’s boom - Heralded the hero’s part - In rebellion’s doom. - - At the front ’mid shot and shell, - Marching side by side; - How the dead and wounded fell, - Soldiers true and tried. - Fathers, brothers, husbands, sons, - Harkened to one voice, - Freedom, speaking through her guns, - Bidding men rejoice. - - Listen to the widow’s moan, - Children, too, must weep; - What to them can e’er atone - For the watch they keep? - Far away by lonely graves - Fragrant lilies bloom; - There our starry banner waves - O’er the soldier’s tomb. - - * * * * * - - But the living, down the years - Steadily they come, - Listen to the ringing cheers, - To the throbbing drum. - To the dirges wailing by - On the willing breeze, - How they swell and sob and die, - Over such as these. - - Clear above that martial tread, - Sounds a bugle sweet, - Telling how they fought and bled; - Praising work complete. - Hail! ye comrades, honor crowned, - Moving on abreast, - To the final camping ground - And eternal rest. - - - - - SUNNY SKIES. - - - Who would have them always so? - Clouds must come and tempests blow. - We would sing a doleful tune - Were there not a rose in June, - See the willing drops come down - Chatter! patter! till the brown - Barren hill tops are as bright - As the stars that gem the night. - - - - - NOT A DAY. - - - There is not a day, - There is not an hour, - But carries away - Or offers us power. - Which is the better - The winner or loser? - To fortune a debtor, - Or fortune’s wise user? - - To other men’s view, - Though steadily striving, - How little we do - Unless we are thriving. - The quaint artist Time - Close student of Duty, - Is a master sublime - In painting soul beauty. - - We may not improve - On what he has shown us, - But forward must move - Or he will disown us. - The higher we stand - For prizes contending, - The more rigid demand - For delicate blending. - - - - - THINGS DONE. - - - Thing’s done, - Behind us are cast, - Find one - To no purpose made fast. - What we cannot undo - May occasion regret; - Traitor or true - We never forget. - - Things done - Belong to the past, - Out run - By a momentum vast. - It is well to recall - The importance of each, - Knowing they all - Had lessons to teach. - - Things done - Are easily classed, - May none - Ever hold us aghast. - Let us blessings impart - As upward we press; - Where beats the heart - A foe to success? - - - - - THE WORD. - - - A lamp unto my feet - Illuming life’s dull way, - Though sternest tempests beat - A lamp unto my feet, - It makes my joy complete - As sunbeams crown the day:-- - A lamp unto my feet - Illuming life’s dull way. - - The light of this great world - And of the world to come; - With rays of glory pearled, - The light of this great world, - Love’s banner fair unfurled - Mid labor’s busy hum, - The light of this great world - And of the world to come. - - - - - FEAR NOT. - - - Fear not though dangers dread assail thee - Stand ever as a hero mid the fray; - Well may the skill of eye and arm avail thee - To keep the foe at bay. - Fear not, though dark the way and dreary, - The legions of the enemy shall flee; - When thou art sore oppressed and worn and weary, - Thy Lord takes thought of thee. - - - - - THE LAW OF THE PRESENT, OBEY. - - - The law of the present obey, - To-morrow every one knows - Before we can catch it goes; - Nothing compares with to-day, - Strive as we may. - - Be hopeful, and happy and brave, - Whatever the moments may bring; - When given to sighing, sing, - Wait not for life boat to save, - Walk on the wave. - - - - - CHRISTMAS EVE. - - - Only a tiny stocking hung in the fire light warm, - Only a weary pilgrim breasting the tide of the storm; - Only an anxious watcher piercing the heart of the gloom; - Only a prayerful whisper breaking the calm of the room. - - Time creeps slowly forward while the swirling snow flakes fall - Upon field, and hill, and highway, and night enfolds them all; - But hark! a voice is shouting, then a welcome step draws near, - And the angel:--Joy, has banished the ghosts of doubt, of fear. - - Only a sleepy fairy who trembles to behold - A host of precious trophies with a wonderment untold, - But the treasure highest valued, the pure, the perfect prize - Is love, the true love beaming from her own dear father’s eyes. - - - - - IN THE MIRROR. - - - In the mirror what do I see? - Velvety brown eyes peeping at me. - Long silken tresses glinting like gold, - Cheeks like the roses ere they unfold. - - Hush! but a moment, do not say no; - Look at the elf that is charming me so. - Just a wee darling who to me flies - Saying: “Oh, tate me! tate or me ties.” - - - - - LIVING FOR OTHERS. - - - Living for others, living for self, - Good of the few or worldly pelf, - Giving to all with lavish hand - Of the humble gifts at our command; - Which is the best to save or share - Whether the day be dark or fair:-- - - To save or share the little we get, - Though storms prevail and foes beset? - Though kingdoms fall and wars increase, - The heart is filled with joy and peace, - Willing to strive with word and deed - To help some fainting soul succeed. - - - - - THE BOOK OF TIME. - - - The Book-of-Time, each page a year, - With every word a hope or fear, - Thereon impressed in lines of light - Would bid us read its truths aright, - - The Book-of-Time a volume vast, - The royal record of a past - Wherein a century ’s a day, - Before eternity’s broad sway. - - The Book-of-Time ’tis bound in gold, - This mammoth book no man can hold; - And angel fingers wield the pen - That writeth of the deeds of men. - - The Book-of-Time transcribed shall lie - As open as the fair blue sky; - Many a loving heart shall find - How wise it was in being kind. - - - - - WHO IS THIS SO LOVED OF YORE? - - - Who is this so loved of yore - Shyly tapping at the door? - Striking off the icy chain - That the earth may thrive again. - Wooing violets in the dale - To their faces fair unveil; - Bidding all the world rejoice - In the music of her voice. - - See the farmer grasp the plough, - ’Tis the day of sowing now; - Hark the robin’s happy call - Keeping house by yon gray wall; - Hear the brooklet’s note of glee - Dancing to the eager sea - Read the message of the King - In the hand of Lovely Spring. - - - - - CHRISTMAS THOUGHTS. - - - Christmas thoughts how pure and sweet, - Christmas joys how fair! - Oh, the mysteries, we meet, - Smiles are everywhere. - Gifts are found in cosy nooks - Never sought before, - Precious gems in toys and books - Hide behind the door. - - Pleasant wishes finely wrought - In the simplest way, - Into trophies Santa brought - In his magic sleigh; - Bid the tender heart expand - At a treasure found, - Fashioned by affection’s hand - And by mercy crowned. - - Christmas thoughts they give delight - While with care we cope, - Brightening the darkest night - With the star of hope. - Oh, when earth friends are so dear, - Earthly joys so sweet, - Then indeed is heaven near, - Life itself complete. - - Christmas thoughts what jewels rare, - On the soul’s white shrine; - Beautiful beyond compare, - Sent by Love Divine. - But the greatest gift of all - Comes that happy day - When we hear the Saviour call:-- - “Trust me and obey.” - - - - - BEAUTY OF THE SOUL. - - - Beauty offers every day, - Gifts to cheer us on our way; - Blessed treasures from above - Free as heaven, fair as love. - Cast in beauty’s purest mold - All things great and good behold, - Which eternally will bide, - Earthly stay, Jehovah’s pride. - - Watch the wise bird, mark the nest, - Builded slow, and sure and best; - Builded low or builded high, - Winds will vainly whistle by. - See the wayward without care - How they fickle fortune dare, - Shattered homes and blighted hopes - Hurl them down life’s rugged slopes. - - Seek the promise of the hour, - Nurture to its fullest flower; - As we train the vine of youth - So will bloom the bud of truth. - Note the lily in the shade - Pining for the sunny glade; - What in all hereafter years - Will avail the too late tears? - - - - - BRIGHTER HOURS. - - - Heavy though the rain drops fall - And the claps ring long and loud. - Brighter hours will come to all - As the sunlight gilds the cloud. - - - - - WILLING TO SERVE. - - - Willing to serve if serve I may, - Willing to serve mid twilight gray; - Willing to serve with heart and hand - Obeying the Divine command. - Willing to serve with weary feet, - Willing to serve, to serve is sweet, - Willing to serve for well I know - The prize my Master will bestow. - - - - - BANNERS WAVING. - - - Flags a-waving, trumpets blowing - Tides of feeling, ebbing, flowing. - “On to battle! on to glory!” - Tell again the wondrous story. - Patriotism brightly burning, - Tempered by a wise discerning. - Town and State together crying:-- - “On to Richmond! time is flying!” - Fateful summons, who could falter? - Laying all on Freedom’s altar, - “Forward! March!” proclaimed the nation, - Why, the words were an ovation. - - Bugles tarnished, banners tattered, - Bullet scarred and bruised and battered. - Home they came with martial bearing, - Home to cheer the hearts despairing; - Home to children, wives and mothers, - Home the living. (But the others.) - On they came and eyes were tearful, - Many eager, many fearful; - Banners waving, drums a-beating, - Happy hearts, a happy meeting. - And hearts “too sad to be alive;” - Oh, thus it was in sixty-five. - - Flags a-waving, bugles blowing, - Honor’s meed to worth bestowing. - Laurel wreathes and roses blending, - With the lily’s breath ascending; - Offer tribute true and tender, - Tribute to each brave defender - For his country’s future caring, - Firm! heroic! noble! daring! - Soldiers, sailors, freemen listen - Till thy cheeks with feeling glisten; - By the banner waving o’er thee, - Must Columbia adore thee. - - - - - CAN YOU SEE A LITTLE FACE? - - - Can you see a little face, - Just the type of witching grace, - As a darling clasps your knee - With a gesture honey sweet, - Lisping love in dimpled glee - Till the sum of life’s complete? - - Is she happy as a lark - From the rosy dawn till dark? - And when twilight folds the world - Close within her calm embrace, - Is the night with gladness pearled - By the light of that dear face? - - Does she whisper, as her eyes - Bid the drowsy curtains rise: - “Wake me sure, to Santa see” - And; [a shy aside is this,] - “I’ll be truly dood, if he, - Lets me give him just a kiss.” - - Do the dimpled fingers cling, - Close and closer while you sing - Praises to the Savior’s name? - Telling of the happy hour - When a precious gift he came, - Prince of love, and peace and power. - - - - - THE BABY’S PALM. - - - A work of art is the baby’s arm - And fairer yet is the shell-pink palm; - But beautiful truth no honest toil, - Can ever that dainty surface soil: - Each cross it carries, each blow for right, - Will serve to make it, and keep it, white. - - - - - NO BLESSING EVER COMES BY CHANCE. - - - No blessing ever comes by chance, - No work is ever quite in vain; - The keenest effort must enhance - The value of the prize we gain. - A kindly act more than we think - May serve to brighten trouble’s brink; - A gentle word in sorrow’s ear, - Is strong the fainting heart to cheer. - - - - - THE MAYFLOWER. - -[1620.] - - - Happy, thrice happy, the Puritan maid - Leaving the fort and the grim palisade; - Leaving the bay where the good ship was fast - To find, her head bending low to the blast, - Just a pink and white hood - In the wind-driven wood. - Then smiling and blushing - With eagerness flushing, - So swiftly she hurried - Young Robin was flurried - And as he his pinions to Boreas tossed, - The dear little pink-hooded stranger was lost. - - Sadder but wiser our Puritan maid - Quickly her footsteps, impetuous, staid - Scarce had she lost it, another was seen - Looking its best in a garment of green, - With a pink and white hood; - For a moment she stood - With heart lighter beating, - At such a sweet meeting. - As kneeling she found it - Where Nature had gowned it - What visions of promise marched up the bleak slope, - To crown that May blossom, the blossom of hope. - - - - - THE BEST WE CAN. - - - When things don’t go to please us - Is it wisdom to despair? - With a friend at hand who sees us, - And will make the shadows fair? - Shall we let our courage falter, - Fail to sympathize with man? - Fortune’s ways are bound to alter - If we do the best we can. - - The light is often hidden - Yet our feet are safely shod, - While we do as we are bidden - Putting perfect trust in God. - He will lead His children ever, - As he has since time began, - And will strengthen each endeavor, - When we do the best we can. - - The rugged way, but certain, - Is a blissful way to tread; - Care is ready like a curtain, - To obstruct the path ahead. - Clouds will come, no use repining, - Yonder trial, joy outran, - Brightly still the sun is shining, - We must do the best we can. - - If things don’t go to please us - There is little need to fret, - Shall a trifle more to tease us, - Make us gratitude forget? - Needless then to stand debating; - Love will any chasm span; - Winning is a way of stating:-- - “We have done the best we can.” - - - - - SOMETHING TO LOOK FORWARD TO. - - - Something to look forward to, the healthful soul demands, - The world stands ready to provide good work for willing hands, - Not only is there room for those most competent to climb, - But ev’ry man to-day may claim some gift from busy Time. - - Something to look forward to, some duty nobly done, - Some little helpful deed to mark the path from sun to sun; - We cannot fear to freely face each mile stone that we meet, - When loving actions daily tend to make our lives complete. - - Something to look forward to, our dearest claims allowed, - Though trouble frowns upon the way, we look beyond the cloud; - As rainbow brightness has the power to darker shades subdue, - The light shall surely shine for those who will the right pursue. - - - - - CHRISTMAS. - - - Christmas is here and joy is ours, - Christmas, the time of songs and flowers, - Flowers of kindness, songs of cheer, - The gala season of all the year. - - Christmas is here and eyes are bright. - Homes are happy, and hearts are light, - Hands are open and man is blest, - This golden season of sweet unrest. - - Christmas is here and “peace--good will!” - Echoes along from hill to hill; - Gifts are ready and hope is strong, - This grateful season of joy and song. - - - - - THE BRIGHTNESS WE HAVE LEARNED TO SHARE. - - - Divide a blessing and behold - Its worth increased a hundred fold. - A kindly deed, a word of cheer, - Will scatter sunshine far and near. - By telling only what is good, - Truth cannot be misunderstood; - The brightness we have learned to share - May make the darkest pathway fair. - - Glad tidings of whatever kind - The closer human friendships bind; - An echo of a joyful song - A hundred eager lips prolong. - Intent to honor’s rights maintain, - No upward effort is in vain; - It is not sacrifice to give - The happiness that helps men live. - - - - - RING BUSY BELLS. - - - Ring busy bells, across the night, - Ring in the tender morning light; - Let merry measures wake the noon - And sunset echo back the tune. - - Ambitious who shall lead the van - Of quick rejoicing, boy and man, - And maid and matron mingle tears - With joyful chimes and ringing cheers. - - Remember Concord, Bunker Hill, - They bid the pulses leap and thrill - And still athwart the storied past - The present has new meaning cast. - - ’Tis midnight and the solemn hush - Is shattered by a sudden gush, - A swaying turbulence of sound - That on the startled ear rebounds. - - Ring, happy bells, for as you ring - Sweet memories about you cling; - Again we independent stand, - Deliverers of this dear land. - - The signal boom triumphant comes - ’Mid clashing bells and throbbing drums, - As eager bon-fires flaming high - Imprint their glory on the sky. - - We hear the words of Washington, - We praise his work and cry “Well done!” - And when we closer look we see - Our pride, the father of the free. - - While briefly glancing down the years - Behold a host of grand careers. - They gave us knowledge, virtue, land - And arts which every year expand. - - We honor Lincoln, steadfast, true, - Type of what one good man can do; - He loosed the shackels of the slave: - Preserve the liberty he gave. - - The grim destruction of the Maine - Was not a source of grief in vain, - The sadness of her loss was meant - To bring to Cuba’s heart content. - - O’er restless miles of ocean vast - Columbia’s brave sons have passed, - Till other nations love to view - Our flag, the red, the white, the blue. - - Philippines, to patriot eyes, - A trust, but never more a prize; - McKinley’s noble work shall live: - We fight, we conquer, we forgive. - - To crown a stricken race’s release, - Welcome the blessed boon of peace. - Whatever gifts our homes may bless, - May we no distant homes oppress. - - - - - THE RIVER-OF-LIFE. - - - The river-of-life must smoothly flow, - By the hills of hope, its breast aglow - With the cheering light that softly streams, - From golden heights in the land of dreams. - - The river-of-life will gently glide - On its ceaseless mission far and wide, - Its forceful current so true and deep - It will not pause at the vale-of-sleep. - - The river-of-life runs gaily down - By the shining gates of pleasure-town - And carries our truant thoughts away - On the moment-freighted boat:--To-day. - - The river-of-life, how fair it lies, - On the soul’s white map before our eyes; - It ripples on from the land we see - Into the beautiful land To-Be. - - - - - Singing Songs for Jesus. - - - Singing songs for Jesus, singing while we may; - Singing in the darkness, singing in the day. - - Singing songs for Jesus, singing with delight; - Never yet was singing, could His love requite. - - - - - ANCHOR ME SAFE. - - - Anchor me safe, though by danger oppressed; - Safe in the haven where motion is rest. - Safe with the waves rushing up on the shore, - Leaving my heart undisturbed by their roar. - - Anchor me yonder, the beacon in sight, - Never to wander away from its light; - Type of security, brighten my way, - Turning the darkness of evening to day. - - Anchor me safe, lest the surges resound - With the death note of a vessel aground. - Straight is the course the Good Pilot must take, - I may be weary but he is awake. - - Worried and weary the tempest unchecked, - No one who trusted Him ever was wrecked! - Breasting the waters, wind driven and high - Perfect the power on which I rely. - - Mortal may waver, with Him is the skill - Vanquishing evil; Omnipotent will. - Saviour from trouble, a shelter in storm, - Bidding the world to His wisdom conform. - - - - - SHINE OUT. - - - Shine out, happy soul, let the spiritual brightness be seen, - How much that clear shining is needed when clouds intervene; - Ever the light of the Master illumeth the way, - Changing the gloom of the valley to beautiful day. - - - - - WHATEVER CHANGES TIME MAY BRING. - - - Whatever changes time may bring - The promise cannot fail, - The closer to the Word we cling - We struggle, we prevail. - - The Rock-of-Ages cleft for us - We cannot yield to care, - We cannot stop to fret or fuss, - Nor stoop to court despair. - - We live, to patiently fulfill, - God’s purposes, and find - That what was once against our will - Was meant to be most kind. - - The Christ who claims us for His own - Now listens while we pray:-- - “Dear Lord, we seek to make Thee known, - Be near us day by day. - - Give kindly heed the while we plead, - We hunger, hear our cry, - Give us the living bread we need; - Yea, manna from on high. - - Deliver us from evil, bless - And keep us, make us wise, - Give us more perfect happiness - For every hope that dies. - - Oh, leave us not to walk alone, - Our failing strength renew, - Make each believing heart a throne - And sinful thoughts subdue. - - Though earthly troubles oft betide - To self-blind eyes give sight; - A little cloud will surely hide - A thousand rays of light. - - A thousand rays of light divine - Are streaming from above, - Oh, teach us as the stars to shine - With light of Heav’nly Love.” - - - - - LOOKING TO JESUS. - - - Looking to Jesus is my joy, - Looking to Him when foes annoy; - Looking to Him, the Father sent, - Looking to Him, I am content. - - Looking to Jesus, courage, soul! - He will the troubled waves control; - Looking to Him to ease my care, - Looking to Him, my cross I bear. - - Looking to Jesus, peace is mine; - Looking to Jesus, friend divine, - Looking to Jesus, all is bright, - Looking to Him, my life, my light. - - - - - I NEITHER FAINT NOR FEAR. - - - I neither faint nor fear, - Whatever is, is best; - The page of conscience clear, - My feet have onward pressed, - - I neither faint nor fear - When in the tempest’s track, - A storm cloud’s brief career - Can never turn me back. - - I neither faint nor fear, - Nor would my steps retrace; - The way indeed were drear, - Could I desert my place. - I neither faint nor fear, - But trust Omnipotence; - The Master I revere, - My shield and sure defence. - - I neither faint nor fear, - With Him am I content; - To Christ would I adhere, - For Him would I be spent. - I neither faint nor fear - For He sustains my soul; - He bids me persevere; - He leads me to the goal. - - I neither faint nor fear, - Although these hands are weak; - Although the night is drear, - A gracious dawn I seek. - I neither faint nor fear, - Whatever is, is best; - May I one heart but cheer, - To God I leave the rest. - - - - - EASTER-TIDE. - - - Brightest sunshine, sweetest flowers, - Welcome in the Easter-tide; - What a blessed work is ours - Lifting up The Crucified: - Pointing to the rock fresh riven, - To the grave-clothes cast aside, - Grand the proof that Christ has given, - He is living though He died. - - Brightest sunshine, sweetest flowers, - Gracious gifts of Easter-tide - What a joyful work is ours - Lifting up The Crucified; - Showing Him as in a vision, - Stand triumphant o’er the grave: - From the sepulchre’s cold prison - He is risen, He will save. - - - - - HOWEVER HIGH THE AIM. - - - I cannot do the half that I desire - However high the aim the hands will tire; - However long the journey, do my best, - Though eager still to climb, the feet must rest. - Perhaps when hope is baffled it is meant - To teach the fuller meaning of content; - Countless are the blessings I must miss - Unless I keep the path to endless bliss. - - - - - HE GIVETH HIS BELOVED SLEEP. - - - He giveth his beloved sleep - And sweetly shall they rest. - Oh, we must ceaseless vigil keep - If we would bear the test. - To-day is ours for good or ill - And if we now obey, - His promises he will fulfill - And wipe our tears away. - - - - - AS WE ARE. - - - God knows us as we are, and as we fain would be; - How great, how grand our work, if we the end could see; - We feel within the soul the strength to rise above - The pressing cares of earth, upborne, upheld by love. - - God knows us as we are, whatever we may do - The strivings of the heart lie open to His view; - He sees our present place, the height we may attain, - He bids us persevere, nor hope, nor live in vain. - - God knows us as we are, He listens when we speak - And blesses ev’ry plan to help the poor, the weak; - Is quick to cheer the faint, the willing feet direct, - Goes with us all the way to comfort, to protect. - - God knows us as we are; His loving kindness gave - A conqueror to snatch sweet victory from the grave. - In Him alone we stand triumphant, evermore, - For He will lead us home, through Christ, the Living Door. - - - - - CAN THE WILLING HANDS BE WEARY? - - - Can the willing hands be weary? - When they carry sweetest cheer, - Into lives too dark and dreary - Lives too oft beset by fear; - Lives whose only glimpse of pleasure - It is blessed to bestow. - There are gifts we may not measure, - Gifts that only love may know. - - Can our hurried footsteps falter - When we do a kindly deed? - Can a trifle serve to alter - What would save a soul in need? - Can we pause to weigh the chances, - Or refuse to heed each call? - Lo, a pleasant word enhances - Just the treasure gift of all. - - In the gift, behold the giver - Deeds perpetuate a thought, - Let us hasten to deliver - What can never be forgot. - Offer “oil of joy” for sadness, - Speed a brother on his way, - Fill some fainting heart with gladness; - Scatter sunshine while we may. - - Hear the songs of praise ascending! - Breathe the music laden air! - Grateful melodies are blending, - With the heav’nward winging prayer; - Deaf the ear that will not harken - To the tale they sweetly tell, - “What though earthly skies may darken, - God is doing all things well.” - - - - - THE MESSAGE SO SWEET. - - - There is nothing can be half so precious to me, - When my spirit by care is oppressed; - As the message so sweet, it is bliss to repeat:-- - “Come, come unto me, and rest.” - - Jesus leads me aright, turneth darkness to light, - Sheds the halo of peace o’er my breast - Oh, the message so sweet, it is bliss to repeat;-- - “Come, come unto me, and rest.” - - He is calling to me, His salvation is free, - Shall I linger, weak, sinful, distressed? - Oh, the message so sweet, it is bliss to repeat:-- - “Come, come unto me, and rest.” - - He is calling me now, in His presence I bow, - All His love and His goodness confessed - Oh, the message so sweet, it is bliss to repeat:-- - “Come, come unto me, and rest.” - - I will work, I will sing, for my Saviour, my King; - And of gifts I will bring Him the best; - Oh, the message so sweet, it is bliss to repeat:-- - “Come, come unto me, and rest.” - - - - - SERVICE. - - - The smallest service we can do, - With seal of Love-Divine, - Will oft the fainting faith renew, - The heart to God incline. - We are not left to work alone, - We stand as servants true; - Each little kindly action known, - By Him we may not view. - - - - - RISEN TO-DAY. - - - The sepulchre stone, fit emblem of pride, - Light as the thistle-down wafted aside - Send the glad tidings as far as you may, - Jesus, The Master, is risen to-day. - - Happy the Marys, obeying His voice, - Bidding His weeping disciples rejoice. - Lost on the mountains, or rocked by the deep, - Jesus will find us and wake us from sleep. - - Hail Him, oh, Christians, the Hope of the world, - Over all nations His banner unfurled - Pure as the lilies, more tender than prayer, - Jesus is willing our burdens to bear. - - Willing our burdens to bear, may His love - Keep us and lead us to mansions above. - Send the glad tidings as far as you may. - Jesus, The Master, is risen to-day. - - - - - ANOTHER’S PLACE. - - - As none can fill another’s place - We must be faithful as we can, - And magnify the work of grace - The wisdom of the wondrous plan. - We must be kind as kind can be, - Or some poor pilgrim fails of bliss; - And who would wilfully decree - That others should a blessing miss? - - We must be true, for eager eyes - Are gazing on us day by day, - They gladly honest worth apprize, - We must be true and watch and pray. - Be true, and good, and strong, and brave, - However difficult the case; - For there are countless souls to save - And none can fill another’s place. - - A thousand people come and go - And thousands follow as they may, - But none another’s grief may know - And none his debt of love repay. - Although the throng is moving fast, - We quickly scan it for a face - That smiled upon us in the past; - Oh, who can fill another’s place? - - The smallest talents rightly use; - A word in season joy to speak; - ’Mid want and sorrow, swift to choose - The upward path, however bleak. - Beyond the clouds the light is clear - Whose cheering presence we would trace, - In humble sphere, in proud career, - Oh, who can fill another’s place? - - In humble sphere, in proud career, - The vital verdict is the same, - And those who nobly persevere - This great eternal truth proclaim:-- - The true, the good, the strong, the brave, - With patience run life’s little race - For there are countless souls to save - And none can fill another’s place. - - - - - THE WINDOW OF LIFE. - - - I looked from the window of life where I stood, - I looked on the world and I saw it was good; - I looked at myself and was sorely aggrieved, - Could this be the being in whom I believed? - - I looked from the window of life, and behold - A record of deeds many centuries old; - Such pleasures as once would have given delight - No longer the heart of the nation’s invite. - - I look from the window of life where I stand. - The prospect unfolding before me is grand; - Determined to follow where loyalty leads - Must meet the reward that all others exceeds. - - I look from the window of life and I find - The years have been wasted because I was blind, - For surely no clear sighted soul could reject - Those paths which the glories of heaven reflect. - - I look from the window of life and I see - The sweep of the future, how broad it may be; - The hills and the valleys alike will be fair, - If only the leader who loves me is there. - - I look from the window of life and I know - Sweet joy will be with me where ever I go; - How pleasant to follow where Jesus will guide, - Content if I may in His shadow abide. - - - - - THOU ART MINE. - - - “Thou art mine!” Blessed word from the Father above, - It speaks to my heart of His infinite love; - When I faint ’neath my load, the message divine, - Brings peace to my soul:--“Thou art mine! Thou art mine.” - - “Thou art mine!” Though the tempest is raging around, - In Him, and Him only, a refuge is found, - No force can subdue Him, no fetters confine, - And has He not said:--“Thou art mine! Thou art mine.” - - “Thou art mine!” When temptations my pathway beset, - His merciful kindness I cannot forget. - The sun may be hidden, but soon it will shine, - He calls me by name:--“Thou art mine! Thou art mine.” - - “Thou art mine!” With afflictions confronting the soul, - The billows of trouble are His, to control. - Beside the still waters He bids me recline - And lovingly says:--“Thou art mine! Thou art mine.” - - “Thou art mine!” I am happy obeying His voice, - I trust Him and serve Him, His glory my choice; - His power, eternal, can never decline - And does He not say:--“Thou art mine! Thou art mine.” - - - - - THE MERRY BELLS. - - - The merry bells are ringing, - Good will is in the air; - Our hearts are singing, singing, - And joy is everywhere. - There is pleasure for the lowly, - There is pleasure for the high, - The day so holy, holy, - Now lingers in the sky. - - - - - FOLLOW JESUS. - - - If we try to follow Jesus He will lead our steps aright, - He will lead us out of darkness into fields of living light. - Little hands can work for Jesus, little feet love-errands run; - Little voices speak His praises; little ears can hear “well done.” - - Sweet the voice that sings for Jesus, kind the eye content to see, - All the beauties of a service that will keep us pure and free. - Little forms can lean on Jesus, little lives He will enfold, - Little arms shall draw Him nearer and in His dear cause be bold. - - Little hearts are wise in trusting, they delight in being true, - Bring the little ones to Jesus and He will their strength renew. - Let us aim to find Him early in the life as in the day, - Never soul in seeking Jesus, ever yet was turned away. - - Never prayer the Christian uttered though ’t was whispered word by word, - Asking Him for help or guidance but the Ear Divine has heard. - When He hears expect an answer; God’s own promise cannot fail, - We must ask in faith, believing, and by faith alone prevail. - - - - - THE BRIGHT SIDE. - - - The bright side - Is the right side, - The side we seek to see. - The wrong way, - Is a long way, - And will not make us free. - - The right side, - Is the light side, - The side that mirror’s bliss; - The wrong way, - Is a long way, - And one we cannot miss. - - The right side - Is the white side, - Where nothing dark can tread; - The wrong way - Is a long way, - Beset by foes we dread. - - The bright side, - Not the night side - Will cheer the weary eye; - By fair ways, - There are stair ways - To homes beyond the sky. - - - - - WE SHALL MEET AGAIN. - - - Blest be the tie, - As we say good-bye - That unites our hearts in love; - With the past made plain - We shall meet again, - We shall meet again above. - - We look away - To the happy day, - When we all shall walk by sight; - With the past made plain, - We shall meet again, - In the land of life and light. - - - - - THE EMPTY LIFE. - - -Empty is a life without Christ. It lacks motive power. - -In the press of worldly matters the soul loses its assurance. It is like -a locomotive when the steam is shut off. It stops. - -Assurance in the love of God, keeps a man in motion. It sends him hither -and thither. Makes him a profitable servant. - -He works. To work he must have strength. To work he must eat. He feeds -on the bread of life. He drinks of the water of life. He has enough and -to spare. Happy is he. - -Doubt creeps in. Losing his hold on Christ, he loses all. Suppose death -should find him now. - - - - - A LIVING LORD. - - -“The Lord liveth,” in Him will I trust. God is my strength. He hath -given me the shield of salvation. His gentleness hath made me great. -Compassed about by troubles and temptations He delivers me. The last -enemy of man has been conquered by Him. Death is vanquished by the Son -of God. - -He makes with us an everlasting covenant. David says: “He delivered me -from my strong enemy.” How many of us have a strong enemy? An enemy -difficult to subdue? One we cannot subdue without help from on high? - -“Come and let us return unto the Lord. He will revive us and raise us -up. We shall live in His sight.” - -“The wise shall understand these things. The ways of the Lord are right -and the just shall walk in them.” - -“Seek good and not evil that ye may live.” Here we have a warning and a -command, a threat and a promise. - -Godliness is profitable unto all, having promise of the life that now -is, and of that which is to come. - -To-day, if ye will hear His voice, harden not your hearts.” - - - - - “HAVE FELLOWSHIP ONE WITH ANOTHER.” - - -When our souls are at one with the Lord Jesus, we come into fellowship -with His people. Spiritually renewed, we give ourselves to Him and are -baptized. Through the church-visible opens our grandest opportunity of -making Him manifest to mankind. - -We can all be “pillars in the temple of our God.” - -We can all pray, They that dwell in the secret place of the Most High, -abide under the shadow of the Almighty. - -We can all speak of the living bread which came down from Heaven. If we -eat of that bread we shall live forever. - -There is no true happiness apart from Christ. May we be, as lights, -shining for Him, in many a darkened home. - - - - - FOLLOWING JESUS. - - -We have a work to do. We are Christ’s representatives. We must partake -of the Christly character. - -We are His witnesses. Witnesses of His power and of His saving grace. It -is ours to tell of His wonderful goodness to the children of men. We -tremble when we recognize the magnitude of the responsibility which -rests upon us. As our day, so shall our strength be. - -If we fail to show Him forth in our daily lives, we break the covenant -into which we joyfully entered such a little while ago. - -It is ours to be zealous in His service. Faithful unto death, we shall -receive a crown of life. - -We are trusting in The Word, may we lead others to see, that The Word is -truth. - -We are leaning on the promises. May we encourage others to do the same. - -Steadfast followers of the Lord Jesus; if we work with Him and walk with -Him, we shall also reign with Him. - - - - - THE CHRISTIAN’S HOPE. - - -We as Christians, have much to gain, from faith, obedience, patience, -mercy, love. - -We suffer, that we may attain eternal bliss. No trusting soul shall fail -of its reward. - -Friends who were with us yesterday are gone to-day. We pray. We weep. At -the feet of Jesus comfort comes to us. - -We remember what our Saviour has done for us and look beyond the -present, rejoicing in the glory which shall be revealed. - -When things temporal have passed away, we go home to God, to abide -forever. - - - - - COMING ONCE MORE. - - - The moments we give to Our Brother, - Must ever be moments well spent, - The riches bestowed on another - Are riches the Father has lent, - Be ready to tell the Old Story - So potent new life to infuse, - In seeking to live to His glory - Go on in the paths He would choose. - - The words we are leaving unspoken - Might welcome a soul to the light, - The bondage of Satan once broken - How all the dark places grow bright. - The fruitage of prayer is a blessing, - It never is offered in vain, - The truth we are gladly confessing - Will grandly Love’s purpose maintain. - - The talents devoted to Jesus - Are talents the wisest improve. - Imprisoned, believing, He frees us: - While sin runs along in a groove. - Our standard no foeman can alter, - Lo, faith bears us up as on wings. - None born of The Spirit may falter, - For fair is the promise He brings. - - Be instant in trusting and giving. - Man cannot in justice withhold, - Those tithes that belong to right living; - Be earnest, and steadfast, and bold. - In fullness of time of His kindness - The Saviour is coming once more, - He pities the world in its blindness - And enters each wide open door. - - On hearts that delight in obeying - His wishes, ’tis safe to repose, - The tribute we daily are paying - No hand but our Lord’s shall disclose, - By service He joys in expecting - A blessed approval is won. - The Christian succeeds when electing - To strive for the final “Well done!” - - - - - THE PRESENT. - - - The present, only, is ours; - We cannot recall the past - Song’s and sunshine and flowers, - Are pleasant, but do they last? - - The dollar we earn to-day, - Is more than a million spent; - The one has vanished away, - The other may bring content. - - A loving word, like the dew - To the rose, revives the heart. - A blessing awaits the true; - Feeling is higher than art. - - The present improved is bliss, - The bliss that fore’er abides; - In a fairer world than this, - Where never an ill betides. - - - - - BE FAITHFUL. - - - Be faithful soldiers, fearing not, - What traitors may disclose; - There is a purpose in our lot - More powerful than foes. - - If we could once peruse life’s page, - [A blurred and blotted scroll,] - The failures would our thought engage - Though fled beyond control. - - If we could once life’s page peruse, - Each loss returned, a gain, - Would give such wisdom as accrues - From knowledge, bought of pain. - - We never know what we can do; - The problems none attempt - Now lying open to our view, - Have meanings little dreamt. - - We gird our armor on to meet - The enemy’s advance; - But in the frenzy of retreat, - Too often yield to chance, - - Stand ready; boldly face the front; - Press on and on: prevail. - Be brave to bear the battle’s brunt; - The hero cannot fail. - - - - - WHY WILL YE DIE? - - - Why will ye die? - Why will ye die? - With sin the world is rife, - But there is one who draweth nigh: - He brings eternal life. - - Eternal life! - Eternal life! - How gentle is the voice, - That calls thee from the toil and strife:-- - “My child, repent! Rejoice!” - - Repent! Rejoice! - Repent! Rejoice! - Oh, bid Him enter in. - By making Jesus Christ our choice, - Love’s fair reward we win. - - - - - THE TESTING TIME. - - - When Trouble frowns upon our way - And still we bravely overcome, - The griefs besieging us each day; - Desirous as best we may, - To bear the duties burdensome. - - When clouds obscure the sunny sky, - When Sorrow surges o’er the heart; - When Pain’s dread presence hovers nigh, - Faith must triumph then, or die, - She conquers when we do our part! - - The slowest feet were meant to climb; - The humblest life can honor God. - The present is the testing time - Forward Soul to heights sublime! - Thy work is here and not abroad. - - - - - LIGHT. - - - How could we work if once we knew - Just what for us in store, - The future holds; would we be true - And better than before? - Could we go forward fearing not, - To life’s results disclose? - Or would we tremble at a lot, - Where rue displaced the rose? - - Courageous to the present meet, - Or woe or bliss it brings; - Confront its joys, its pleasures sweet, - Its hopes, its sufferings. - A soul, improving moments well, - Need never dread the days; - The space is small wherein we dwell, - But broader than our gaze. - - The space is small but if we list, - Its limits will expand. - Each enemy of right resist - And gauge the hour’s demand. - To-morrow’s page we cannot read, - To-day alone is bright; - Each point to conscience we concede - Returns to us, as light. - - - - - IF A WORK IS WORTH THE DOING. - - - If a work is worth the doing - It is worth the doing well. - When a noble aim pursuing - Never have an idle spell. - There is danger in delaying - And a man may win his case, - By attention he is paying - To the language of a face. - - There are records fate impresses - In the lines upon a brow. - Silence often times confesses - More than wisdom would allow. - Could we read the future’s pages - We would hope’s incentive lose; - The experience of ages - Should ambition’s fire infuse. - - Could we see the path before us - See the forces we must lead, - See the tempests hanging o’er us - [How the willing feet must bleed.] - See the trials daily coming, - Coming to the patience try; - In the knowledge, vast, benumbing, - Happiness would pass us by. - - Quick to reckon up the losses; - Ready to forget our gains. - It is ever little crosses, - That the greatest love constrains. - We who baffle mighty issues, - Measure moments by their length: - There are hosts of tiny tissues - Most amazing in their strength. - - - - - TAKE THY STAND. - - - God’s voice is saying:--“Find thy place, - Make haste to take thy stand. - I am thy shield; My saving grace - Sustains thee. Take My hand. - In times of trial find thy strength, - In Me. Build on the rock, - Christ Jesus. Thou shalt know at length, - My mercy, only knock!” - - - - - FATHER, ACCEPT OUR THANKS. - - - Father, accept our thanks - For blessings, heaven-lent. - We march with broken ranks, - When joy and woe are blent. - We march, as march we must, - Subject to Thy command. - Can we forsake our trust - Upheld by Thy right hand? - - Father, we turn to Thee - ’Mid shadows drear and dark; - Thy breath alone is free - To fan the vital spark, - Until its light illumes - The vast arcade of years; - And some fair lily blooms - Where men saw only tears. - - We cannot walk alone, - However bright the way. - A seed of kindness sown - Shall gracious largess pay. - Our sight is poor and weak, - Apart from Sight-Divine; - Direct us, for we seek - No other will than Thine. - - Attentive is Thy ear; - Encourage when we call; - The clouds shall disappear, - We conquer as did Paul. - Eternal rest is won, - Where nothing ill betides; - His race is nobly run, - Who in the Lord confides. - - We know we cannot do - The simplest duty well; - Our failing strength renew, - Sweet bliss from pain compel. - Be with us as we meet - To study Thy desire; - Come and Thy work complete, - Our feeble hearts inspire. - - Inspire our feeble hearts, - To carry out Thy will. - The fear of man departs. - When we, Thy laws, fulfill. - Help us, dear Lord, intent, - To glorify Thy name; - The Son Himself was sent, - To emphasize Thy claim. - - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Songs for All Seasons, by Cora C. 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