TO E ——.
Much have we to support us in our strife
With things which else would crush us, nor alone
Secret refreshings of the inward life,
But many a flower of sweetest scent is strown
Upon our outward and our open way;
None sweeter than are at some seasons known
To them who dwell for many a prosperous day
Under one roof, and have, as they would hope,
One purpose for their lives, one aim, one scope—
To labour upward on the path to heaven.
Full of refreshment these occasions are,
Like seasonable resting-places given
To pilgrim feet; for tho’, alas! too rare,
Yet the sweet memories they supply, will give
The food on which affection’s heart may live
In after times; since it were sad indeed
If all more intimate knowledge did not breed
More trust in one another and more love,
More faith that each is seeking to attain
With humble earnest effort, not in vain,
The happy rest of God. And so they part
On their divided ways with cheerful heart,
Knowing that in all places they will call
On the same God and Father over all;
And part not wholly, since they meet whose prayer
Meets at the throne of grace; one life divine
Through all the branches of the mystical vine
Flows ever, even as the same breath of air
Lifts every leaflet of a mighty grove.
And from our meeting we shall reap a share
Of a yet higher good, if we have won
Hereby the strengthening of one weak desire,
The fanning of one faint spark to a fire,
The stirring of one prayer, that we may prove
Stedfast and faithful till our work be done,
Until the course appointed us be run.
We know not whither our frail barks are borne,
To quiet haven, or on stormy shore;
Nor need we seek to know it, while above
The tempest and the waters’ angriest roar
Are heard the voices of Almighty love—
So we shall find none dreary nor forlorn.
Whither we go we know not, but we know
That if we keep our faces surely set
Towàrd new Zion, we shall reach at last,
When every danger, every woe is past,
The city where the sealèd tribes are met,
Whither the nations of the savèd flow,
The city with its heav’n-descended halls,
The city builded round with diamond walls.
Then how should we feel sorrow or dim fear
At any parting now, if there to meet;
How should our hearts with sadder pulses beat,
When thou art going where kind hearts will greet
And welcome thy return, and there as here
Thou still wilt find thine own appointed sphere,
To fill the measure up of gentle deeds,
Even as we have learnèd that in these,
That in the holy Christian charities,
And the suppliance of the lowliest needs
Of the most lowly, our true greatness is.
Therefore we will not seek to win thy stay,
Nor ask but this—that thou shouldst bear away
Kind memories of us, and only claim
What of thyself thou wilt be prompt to give,
That in thy heart’s affections he may live,
To whom thou bearest that most holy name
Of spiritual mother. O beloved friend,
It is a cheering thought, if I should be
Where I can no more watch for him nor tend
His infant years—there where I cannot see
What good, what evil wait upon his way,
That yet thy love thy counsel and thy cares
He will not lack, a child of faithful prayers.
TO ——.
ON THE MORNING OF HER BAPTISM.
This will we name thy better birth-day, child,
O born already to a sin-worn world,
But now unto a kingdom undefiled,
Where over thee love’s banner is unfurled.
Lo! on the morning of this Sabbath day
I lay aside the weight of human fears,
Which I had for thee, and without dismay
Look through the avenue of coming years.
I see thee passing without mortal harm
Thro’ ranks of foes against thy safety met;
I see thee passing—thy defence and charm,
The seal of God upon thy forehead set.
From this time forth thou often shalt hear say
Of what immortal City thou wert given
The rights and full immunities to-day,
And of the hope laid up for thee in heaven.
From this time forward thou shalt not believe
That thou art earthly, or that aught of earth,
Or aught that hell can threaten, shall receive
Power on the children of the second birth.
O risen out of death into the day
Of an immortal life, we bid thee hail,
And will not kiss the waterdrops away,
The dew that rests upon thy forehead pale.
And if the seed of better life lie long,
As in a wintry hiddenness and death,
Then calling back this day, we will be strong
To wait in hope for heaven’s reviving breath;
To water, if there should be such sad need,
The undiscernèd germ with sorrowing tears,
To wait until from that undying seed
Out of the earth a heavenly plant appears;
The growth and produce of a fairer land,
And thence transplanted to a barren soil,
It needs the tendance of a careful hand,
Of love, that is not weary with long toil.
And thou, dear child, whose very helplessness
Is as a bond upon us and a claim,
Mayest thou have this of us, as we no less
Have daily from our Father known the same.