WOODBURN.
Oh, the brow that has never been shaded by care
The rosewreath of pleasure may smilingly wear,
And the heart that is wholly a stranger to gloom,
’Mid the din of existence may fearlessly bloom;
But the one that is blighted by sadness and pain,
And blighted too rudely to blossom again,
When its hold on a reed-like support is resigned.
Nor peace, nor composure, nor solace can find,
Nor strength to submit to the chastening rod,
Save only in stillness—alone with its God!
And oh! if a blissful communion with Heaven
To earth-wearied spirits has ever been given,
If the loved and the distant, the lost and the dead,
Who smiled on our pathway a moment, and fled,
Who darkened our sunshine and saddened our mirth,
To prove that the soul has no home upon earth,
Are sent in the night-time of gloom and distress,
As heralds of mercy to comfort and bless,
To place, while the tempest is fearfully loud,
The bright bow of peace on the dark thundercloud,
To whisper of purer and holier ties,
Of a land where the blossom of joy never dies—
Such tidings to welcome, oh! where shall we flee,
If not, dearest Woodburn, to silence and thee?
For ah! did the angel of peace over roam,
On an errand of love, from her own hallowed home,
To gladden a sin-blighted world for awhile,
Make the desert rejoice and the wilderness smile,
She has certainly paused in her holy career,
And closed up her pinions delightfully here.
Dear to me are thy shades, when no sound may be heard
Save the soul-soothing strains of thy harmonist bird,
For they seem on the soft wing of quiet to come,
Like celestial melodies luring us home,
Faint breathings from Heaven, to bid us prepare
For peals of ethereal minstrelsy there.
But oh! when day rests on the portals of eve,
As though loath the bright scene of enchantment to leave,
While its drapery of gold, hurried carelessly on,
Fades away, tint by tint, till at last all are gone,
I feel ’tis an emblem of life’s little hour,
(Thus perish the hues of hope’s loveliest flower),
And I sigh for repose on that heavenly shore
Where the day is eternal, and change is no more.
1830. E. P. K.
LINES
SUGGESTED BY THE PRESENCE OF THE ENGLISH FRIENDS, J. AND H. C. BACKHOUSE, IN AMERICA—1831.
… “They that turn many to righteousness,
shall shine as the stars forever and ever.” …
They have left their homes and kindred, they are in the strangers’ land,
The voice of God revealed his will; His will was their command.
They crossed the pathless main, nor feared the sadly treacherous wave,
For is not He in whom they trust omnipotent to save?
But did no dark forebodings come? Was all at peace within?
Did prompt obedience’ sure reward e’en with the toil begin?
Ah no! for nature’s fond appeal would in that hour be heard;
Maternity’s deep spring of love within the heart was stirred.
Perhaps some little cherub form, that it was joy to see,
Would climb no more, with sunny smile, its happy parent’s knee;
Perhaps some gentle household voice, that sighed “farewell” with pain,
Might never welcome their return to that loved home again;
Then came the thought of glistening eyes, which long had done with tears,
Eyes that had kept an anxious watch o’er childhood’s reckless years;
While mem’ry dwelt upon that last and earnest gaze of love,
Which shows the heart withholds its seal from what the lips approve.
They feared those silvery locks, that told ’twas almost “close of day,”
Would to the grave go down, and they, their children, far away!
A moment nature shrank—the thought was too, too full of pain—
But ah! their Master’s strength was made in weakness perfect then;
The voice that lulls the billowy deep soon bade the storm be still,
Bade them rejoice that they were called to do his perfect will;
To execute with fearless trust the holy high command,—
“Go, and glad gospel tidings spread, over a distant land,
And beams of heavenly peace around your guarded path shall play,
Peace that the world can never give, nor ever take away.”
But has the fearful sacrifice at last been made in vain?
And shall no trace within our hearts, no deathless trace remain?
Bright record, that with us awhile their dwelling place has been,
Preparing temples for their Lord’s high service to begin.
Oh yes, I trust, a fount of light and life they have unsealed
To many a thirsting, fainting soul, a Saviour’s love revealed;
Have taught “that in his service there is perfect freedom” still,
That ’tis the highest bliss of Heaven to do his sovereign will,
And if a humble suppliant may bow before Thy throne,
My Father! and a blessing ask on hearts to her unknown,
Oh! grant for them “the lines may fall in pleasant places” here,
“Beside still waters” bid them rest, and feel that Thou art near.
Thou hast Thyself declared, that great their recompense shall be,
Who have “forsaken all” to love and follow only Thee;
And they have left the “near and dear,” the parent, child, and friend;
Then in Thy holy name may all these sweet affections blend!
And should the world desert them, Lord, oh, be the world to them,
The song of their rejoicing here, in Heaven the crowning gem;
Thy sacred guidance grant, I pray, o’er life’s tempestuous sea,
Awhile a gentle course, and then,—a sheltering port in Thee.
3d mo., 1831. E. P. K.
THE PLAGUES OF EGYPT;
OR, GOD'S PROVIDENCE MAGNIFIED IN THE CARE OF HIS CHOSEN.
When darkness over Egypt reigned,
A darkness to be felt,
Light sweetly shone round Goshen still,
The tents where Israel dwelt.
Awestruck, the Egyptians silent lay,
They rose not from their place;
God’s finger had been o’er their land,
And left a fearful trace.
The very idols which they served
A gloom around them threw,
The stream they worshipped turned to blood,
The sun his light withdrew.
But Pharaoh’s heart was hardened still,
He let not Israel go
Until Jehovah, King of kings,
Struck the last fearful blow.
The first-born on the kingly throne,
The first-born in the hall,—
God sent his awful mandate forth,
And death passed over all.
No house remained in this proud land
Which mourned not for its dead,
And every street was filled with gloom,
And every heart with dread.
At midnight was the message sent—
It was an awful hour,
Proclaiming man’s impotency
And God’s eternal power.
The mighty monarch, struck with awe,
Dismissed the people then;
Contending with Omnipotence
He felt indeed was vain.
And how were Israel employed
When light around them shone?
They then prepared the paschal lamb,
And stood with sandals on;
Staves in their hands, loins girded too,
They waited the command
To throw their loosened shackles off,
And seek the promised land.
But first they ate the passover,
And freely sprinkled round
The blood of an unblemished lamb,
In whom no spot was found.
And the destroying angel passed
Harmless o’er every door
Whose side-posts and whose lintels, too,
Faith’s striking symbol bore.
Now let us pause and ask our hearts
If we have aught to learn,
If very many teaching things
We cannot here discern?
Is there not “darkness to be felt”
In Egypt at this hour?
And does she not refuse to bow
Before Jehovah’s power?
And oh! when God’s own Israel
Would break the oppressor’s chain,
Does she approach His sacred throne
And supplicate in vain?
Ah, no! upon the captive still
Is poured a flood of light,
While he prepares for better worlds
To take his joyous flight.
His bonds are burst, he only waits
The omnipotent command
To journey forth,—his armor’s on,
His staff within his hand.
Not settled down in carnal ease,
This world is not his home,
A pilgrim and a stranger here,
He seeks for one to come.
Christ is his holy passover,
He has a part in Him;
For he applies his blood, in faith,
To purify from sin.
But oh! with very bitter herbs
It must be eaten still;
Suffering is yet the lot of those
Who do their Master’s will.
And let the Christian not forget,
Israel was bid to stay
Within the shelter of the tent
Until the opening day.
And God is now his people’s tent,
In Him may we abide;
Then though the faith will oft be proved,
The patience oft be tried,
An hour of sweet release will come,
And all the pilgrim band,
By flame and cloud alternate led,
Attain the promised land;
And wearing there the crown of joy,
And carrying, too, the palm,
Eternally ascribe the praise
To God and to the Lamb.
6th mo., 1836. E. P. K.
The last look is taken, the last word is said—
Haste away o’er the waves, then, glad tidings to spread;
Thy Master has called thee, no longer delay,
His work it is glorious, haste, haste thee away.
Come, set the sails, mariner, now we’re off shore,
Then weep for the loved ones thou leavest no more;
He is faithful who promised, thou heard’st Him declare
That all thou intrusts to his fatherly care
He will keep in the sheltering fold of his love,
Where nothing shall harm them and nothing shall move.
He will suffer no plague nigh thy dwelling to come,
And His angels shall guard thee wherever thou roam;
No weapon shall prosper that’s formed against thee,
For the truth thou hast loved, shield and buckler shall be.
This the heritage is of the child of the Lord,
Of him who confides in his covenant word,
And freely forsakes, when his Saviour commands,
His brethren, and sisters, and children, and lands.
Though the ocean may roar, and earth shake with the swell,
His home is in Jesus, and all will be well;
Though the mountains depart, and the hills may remove,
He quietly rests ’neath the wing of His love.
He knows that the work of the righteous is peace,
That the blessed effect thereof never shall cease;
A gracious assurance of quietude here,
And bliss without end in a holier sphere.
So, Christian, God speed thee, and should the storm lower,
Cast firmly thine anchor, and trust in His power.
His voice than the billows is mightier far,
And His mercy is o’er thee a safe guiding star.
But oh! when the clouds have all vanished away,
And life smiles around thee, a bright summer’s day,
When the breeze wafts thee onward, and no rocks appear,
Then, Christian, thine hour of peril is near;
The world may frown on thee, but oh! should it smile,
Come apart to the desert, and rest thee awhile.
1837. E. P. K.