AN EMPTY CRADLE.
All empty stands a little cradle-bed,
A mother's falling tears the only sound;
But not of earth her thoughts, nor underground;
Up-gazing she discerns the Fountain-head
Of life; the living Voice she hears that said
'Fear not' to weeping women who had found
An empty tomb, and angels watching round,
Who asked 'Why seek the living with the dead?'
So weeps our Mother Church—her tears outshine
Sun-smitten dewdrops on a summer's morn;
God's rainbow girdles her, Hope's lovely sign,
Whereby she knows that smiles of tears are born;
Fulfilled of life herself, she would assure
Her children all of death's discomfiture.
Carlisle: 1884.
NEW YEAR'S EVE.
God grant through coming years and days
Our beating hearts may be
The harps that celebrate His praise
Who loves eternally!
No ache can be without relief
When Love Himself draws near;
No cup can empty stand, no grief
Embitter God's New Year.
Time's footsteps quickly die away,
Soon emptied is his glass;
We wait for an oncoming Day
Which nevermore shall pass.
Old hopes revive, new hopes are born,
The coming months to cheer;
And phantom-fears and griefs outworn
Die with the dying year.