- dwelleth in that secret place, Where tumult enters not,
Is never cold with terror base,
Never with anger hot.
- if an evil host should dare His very heart invest,
- is his deeper heart, and there He enters in to rest.
When mighty sea-winds madly blow,
And tear the scattered waves,
Peaceful as summer woods, below
Lie darkling ocean caves:
- wind of words may toss my heart, But what is that to me!
- but a surface storm--thou art My deep, still, resting sea.
O DO NOT LEAVE ME.
O do not leave me, mother, lest I weep; Till I forget, be near me in that chair. The mother's presence leads her down to sleep-- Leaves her contented there.
O do not leave me, lover, brother, friends, Till I am dead, and resting in my place. Love-compassed thus, the girl in peace ascends, And leaves a raptured face.
Leave me not, God, until--nay, until when? Not till I have with thee one heart, one mind; Not till the Life is Light in me, and then Leaving is left behind.
BLESSED ARE THE MEEK, FOR THEY SHALL INHERIT THE EARTH.
A quiet heart, submissive, meek,
Father, do thou bestow,
Which more than granted, will not seek
To have, or give, or know.
Each little hill then holds its gift
Forth to my joying eyes;
Each mighty mountain then doth lift
My spirit to the skies.
- then the running water sounds With gladsome, secret things!
- silent water more abounds, And more the hidden springs.
Live murmurs then the trees will blend
With all the feathered song;
- waving grass low tribute lend Earth's music to prolong.
- sun will cast great crowns of light On waves that anthems roar;
- dusky billows break at night In flashes on the shore.
Each harebell, each white lily's cup,
The hum of hidden bee,
Yea, every odour floating up,
The insect revelry--
Each hue, each harmony divine
The holy world about,
- soul will send forth into mine, My soul to widen out.
- thus the great earth I shall hold, A perfect gift of thine;
Richer by these, a thousandfold,
Than if broad lands were mine.
HYMN FOR A SICK GIRL.
Father, in the dark I lay,
Thirsting for the light,
Helpless, but for hope alway
In thy father-might.
- of darkness came the morn, Out of death came life,
I, and faith, and hope, new-born,
Out of moaning strife!
- one morning yet more fair, I shall, joyous-brave,
Sudden breathing loftier air,
Triumph o'er the grave.
Though this feeble body lie
Underneath the ground,
Wide awake, not sleeping, I
Shall in him be found.
- a morn yet fairer must
Quell this inner gloom--
Resurrection from the dust
Of a deeper tomb!
Father, wake thy little child;
Give me bread and wine
Till my spirit undefiled
Rise and live in thine.
WRITTEN FOR ONE IN SORE PAIN.
Shepherd, on before thy sheep,
Hear thy lamb that bleats behind!
Scarce the track I stumbling keep!
Through my thin fleece blows the wind!
Turn and see me, Son of Man!
Turn and lift thy Father's child;
Scarce I walk where once I ran:
Carry me--the wind is wild!
Thou art strong--thy strength wilt share;
My poor weight thou wilt not feel;
Weakness made thee strong to bear,
Suffering made thee strong to heal!
I were still a wandering sheep
But for thee, O Shepherd-man!
Following now, I faint, I weep,
Yet I follow as I can!
Shepherd, if I fall and lie
Moaning in the frosty wind,
Yet, I know, I shall not die--
Thou wilt miss me--and wilt find!
A CHRISTMAS CAROL FOR 1862,