LIFE’S MUSIC.
Though life may seem a symphony,
It is a sad, sad song.
Its music is a funeral dirge,
And weary are the throng
Who march to a weird threnody
Life’s long, and gloomy day,
The road made rough by all the ills
That meet us on our way.
The road, though long and devious
Hath guide posts on its way.
Though there are many sharp, sharp turns,
If guide posts we obey,
We safely reach our journey’s end,
And rest beneath the shade
Of Love’s own tree, whose buds, and flowers
Of hope will never fade.
Disheartened though we often are
Upon the uphill road.
If hope within our hearts is strong
’Twill lighten every load;
The saddest song be turned to joy,
Sweet music fill the soul.
Triumphant will our life march be
Until we reach our goal.
The final song we then shall sing.
Life’s measure be complete.
No minor chord shall lower life’s song,
Nor sound for us defeat.
The meter of our lives shall be
Exultant melody.
No sad refrain shall e’er be sung,
Nor doleful threnody.
LOVE’S GARDEN.
Sow the seeds of loving kindness,
And then gather flowers of joy.
Cultivate e’er peace and gladness,
Life will then have no alloy.
Pluck the weeds that e’er are growing
In the garden of the heart.
Train up all Love’s little tendrils
They are of life the sweetest part.
Prune the trees that bear but discord,
And then graft sweet peace thereon.
Ever help those who have trouble,
Pointing out to them Love’s morn.
In Love’s garden, if the shadow
Of the Cyprus hides Love’s way.
Plant the asphodel; its brightness
Will burst forth, and light Love’s day.
Clear Love’s garden of its wormwood,
And plant heartsease there instead.
’Tis not fitting that aught bitter
Should e’er grow where Love has led.
In all gardens are not roses,—
But rank weeds grow everywhere,
And it may be God’s intention
That the weeds should be your care.
There are many hearts now aching
For a loving word from you.
In their hearts is bitter wormwood,
In their gardens grow the rue.
You should plant for them sweet roses,
Give Love’s sunshine ever, aye.
From their hearts take all the darkness,
In its place put Love’s bright ray.
THE LAST PORT.
My ship of life has left its moorings
To sail upon an unknown sea.
Though ship is staunch, and ne’er has failed me,
Life’s bearings are unknown to me.
I have no chart, I have no compass,
But my life’s voyage must be made,
When once life’s ship on way has started,
The laws of life must be obeyed.
Each day the log must be well written;
Be kept with truthfulness, and care.
In it must be not one false entry,
For close inspection it must bear.
With courage I will start on voyage,
For God will guide me o’er the bar,
Lest I be dashed upon the breakers.
The Port of Death is not so far.
I must go on though storms assail me,
This voyage means so much to me.
No other refuge can I enter,
I sail for Port Eternity.
Without a chart, without a compass,
The star of Hope shall be my guide,
And I shall have no fear of shipwreck,
For all Life’s storms I shall outride.
My ship is making its last voyage,
’Tis well I chose dear Hope’s bright star,
To guide me to my heavenly harbor
With God to help me o’er the bar.
My ship will safely reach its landing,
And God will meet me at death’s bar;
Will not forsake me at Life’s ending.
Thank God for Hope, my guiding star.
CANST TELL ME?
Canst thou tell me dear friend of the other side?
Of thy beautiful home over there.
Dost thou love us the same as when here on earth?
Canst thou help us our burdens to bear?
And is heaven the same thou once thought it was?
Hast thou met thy dear friends gone before?
Wouldst thou wish to come back to this earth again?
To again live thy life as of yore?
All its pains and its griefs to take up again,
Were earth’s joys compensation for woes?
Art thou glad that thou’st lived, and loved, and e’en died?
Canst thou now upon others bestow
The sweet peace that is thine, the love of thy soul?
Canst thou teach us to live, and to die?
Canst thou meet us, and guide us to heaven above,
Solve the problems that in us e’er lie?
I’ve lived my life, thou must live thine.
In thine own soul life’s problems lie.
I cannot teach thee how to live,
I cannot teach thee how to die.
Take up thy burdens, and thy cares.
With patience bear thy every grief.
Thy back is fitted for each cross,
Death is surcease, and brings relief.
Though I have passed from earth away,
I still do feel what thou must bear.
But knowing what thy crosses are,
I say, be brave, thy crosses bear.
Do what thou canst for others’ weal,
Do what thou canst to conquer sin.
Then leave the rest in hands of God.
With pitying love he looks within,
And sees the burdens thou must bear.
He knows how weak, and sore distressed
His earthly children ever are.
But in His love they’re more than blessed.
Have courage, patience, pity, love,
Have charity for all who sin.
Thou need’st not look abroad for faults,
To find them, friend, O look within.