SAINT CHRISTOPHER
NOT only in the legend does he stand
Beside the river current rushing fast,
A dim-drawn giant figure, strong and vast,
His staff within his hand;
But in our own day visible, beside
The darker stream of human pain and sin,
Our eyes have watched him, battling hard to win
For weaker souls a pathway through the tide.
Upheld by him and safely carried o’er
The waves which else had overwhelmed and drowned,
How many a faint and doubting heart hath found
Glad footing on the unhoped-for, distant shore!
And still as his strong, tireless arm again
And yet again their burden raised and took,
You read in the deep reverence of his look
He did the work for God and not for men.
Christophorus our saint, named now with tears.
The deeds he did were Christ’s, the words he said,
All his strong, vital, splendid strength he laid
At the Lord’s feet through the unstinting years.
And now beside that Lord in highest Heaven,
Past the dark stream of Death, which all must tread,
He rests secure, with joy upon his head,
And a “New Name” which hath to him been given.
But still to memory’s eye he stands the same,
A stalwart shape where the deep waters run,
Upbearing, aiding, strengthening every one,
Carrying them onward in his Lord’s dear name.
CONQUEROR
J. S. W.
THE voice of Duty, low, but clarion clear,
Found her, safe seated in the golden haze
Of youth and ease, living luxurious days.
She roused to listen; her enchanted ear
Heard nevermore the music of the earth—
The dancing measure, or the reveler’s call,
Or flute note of Apollo, nor the fall
Of Orphic melodies. As nothing worth
She counted them; in vain her ear to please
They rang their varied changes, urged and wooed,
Following swift Duty, leader to all good,
She went thenceforward;—so she conquered Ease.
Then fell her tender feet on harder road,
With stones beset and briers and many a thorn;
And there, her woman’s strength all overborne,
She sank at length, fainting beneath her load.
And time went by, while helpless still she lay,
Shackled by weakness, vexed with hopes and fears,
Watching the long and tantalizing years
Built from the salt sands of her every day;
But still she bravely smiled through loss and gain;
Through the slow ebb of cheer and fortune’s frown,
Her quenchless soul no chilling waves could drown,
No fires exhaust;—and so she conquered Pain.
And, last, the dim, mysterious shape drew near,
Whom men name “Death,” with pale, averted eyes;
(But whom the Heavenly ones call otherwise!)
She met his hovering presence without fear.
Long time they strove; and as the Patriarch cried,
“Except thou bless, I will not let thee go”!
So she; until at dawn the vanquished foe
Utterly blessed, and left her satisfied.
Oh, sweet to her the first, long, rapturous breath
Of Heaven, after life’s pent and prisoning air;
Freedom unstinted, power to will and dare
The victory won from Life and over Death.