Rest, but few can comprehend the word. At morn I speak it, but at midnight most, and then 'tis music! Oh, the thought ofrest—of perfect freedom, from distress and pain—of health, of vigor in each nerve and limb. The thought inspires, consoles, and makes me pray for fear I shall lose the blessing. Grant me, O God, a patient heart; and may my will be so conformed to thine, that I may wait thy own good pleasure, whatsoever it be.
There are moments when Calvary overshadows Mount Sinai; when the blessed words, "It is finished," swell long and loud above the roar of thunder and the sound of trumpets; when the Cross conceals the Tables of stone bearing the holy law of the Almighty, and then I can boldly reply to the upbraidings of Conscience, "There is now no condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus."
Sing, my heart, for the day cometh wherein the night shall be no more at all remembered; the clouds shall melt like vapor, and the voice of mourning and lamentation shall be heard no more forever. Awake and sing!
'Twas night—a dark and stormy night:The wintry winds were high;Within the fire was blazing brightAnd as I trimmed the cheerful lightI heard a pleading cry.
"Come in," in hasty tones I said,The door flew open wide—The tempest roared—I shrieked with dread,For, lo, a Spectre from the deadWas standing by my side!
One icy hand was on mine own,I would have turned and fled:But ah! my limbs were chilled to stone,As in a low, sepulchral toneThe sheeted Spectre said:
"It was a night like this I died,Scorned by my fellow men;To me a shelter was deniedBut when they slumber by my side,We shall, be equals then.
"I starved—and thou wast clothed and fed,And had enough to spare;Thou mightst have come with gentle tread,And stood beside my dying bed,And found a blessing there.
"But now my curse: nor mine alone—The moment yet will beWhen thou wilt stand before the Throne,And hear it said in thunder tone:'Thou didst it not to Me.'"
The light grew dim throughout the room,Soon darkness reigned supreme,But that pale Spectre from the tombStill eyed me through the dusky gloom,—Thank God, 'twas but a dream!
Darkness and death are round me,The night is late;Yet once the Shepherd found meIn such a state!He lulled my fears to rest,He took me to his breast;Is he less kind to-day?Lord Jesus, hear me pray!
Oh, hear me pray!Remove the hateful sinWhich cankers all withinAnd shrouds my way.Oh, hear me in my anguish,My Saviour God!I droop, I faint, I languishBeneath thy rod:I tremble on the brink,Support me or I sink:Oh, hear me while I cry;Oh, save me or I die!
We stood upon the lonely shoreAnd watched the bounding barkWhich far away the loved ones bore,On billows wild and dark;And then there came a gloomy soundMournfully, mournfully stealing around—And the sound was this,As it rose and fellO'er the broad expanse,—"Farewell, farewell!"
We sought our home—once bright and fair,No word of hope we said,For Sorrow entered with us there,With slow and silent tread;And came a voice from every roomMournfully, mournfully through the gloom;And the voice was this,As it sadly fellOn our aching hearts,—"Farewell, farewell!"
The garden that at morn was gay,And the sequestered bower,Seemed to have wept their bloom away,All in one little hour;We heard a voice upon the breezeSigh mournfully, mournfully through the trees,And the voice was this,As it rose and fellOn the balmy air,—"Farewell, farewell!"
Years, weary years have passed us o'erSince that unhappy morn,And in our arms we clasp once moreWith rapture our first-born.And thankful for our Father's careGratefully, gratefully raise the prayer,That when life is o'erOur anthems may swellWhere lips breathe no more—Farewell, farewell!
No mother! well, the burning tears may flowAnd bathe thy pillow, hapless orphan, now;No mother's tender voice may soothe thy woe,No mother's kiss is on thy aching brow.
Thou hearest footsteps passing by the door,Oft hast thou heard thy mother's footsteps there;But ah! she comes, unhappy boy, no moreTo say "Good night" or hear thy evening prayer.
Weep on: there's none to wipe away thy tears,There's none on earth thy mother's place to fill;The night seems dark, but when the morn appearsDarkness and gloom will be around thee still.
For thou hast lost what time can ne'er restore,What other friends, though kind, can never be;She had bright visions of a better shoreBut asked to live—it was alone for thee.
Kneel, wretched orphan, kneel beside thy bed;Thy voice is choked, thy sobs have louder grown;No mother's hand is lying on thy head,No mother's heart is lifted with thy own.
But thou canst pray, and on the Saviour's breast,Which feels for every grief and every care,Pillow thy head and sweetly sink to rest,Amore than motherwill protect thee there.
Mother, thy loved one slumbers nowIn deep, unbroken rest;But slumbers not with smiling browUpon thy tender breast.Oh, no! for Death with cruel dart,Unheeding anguish wild,Has rudely torn thy yearning heart,And borne away thy child.
Thy home is drear at break of day,And drear at set of sun;For, lo! the grave enwraps the clayOf thy departed one.And vainly does thy spirit sigh,With yearnings deep and wild,To clasp once more within thy armsThy dear, thy darling child.
Cold Death has snatched thy lovely flower;But, lo! the day draws near,When even Death shall lose his power,And thy sweet child appearAll glorious with immortal life,In Eden's garden fair.Oh, mother, mother! would'st thou meetThy dearly loved one there?
Oh, would'st thou join the blood-washed throngOn that immortal shore?Oh, would'st thou swell the Conqueror's songAnd greet thy child once more?Then turn to Him who died for theeA death of woe and pain;And at the resurrection mornEmbrace thy child again!
[The following lines were addressed to her brother on receiving a locket containing his daguerreotype.]
I touch the spring—and lo, a faceWhich for these many yearsWithin my heart has had a place,A tender place—appears.
The large dark eyes look up to mine,So like thyself!—the cheek,The brow, the features, all are thine:Speak to me, brother, speak!
And tell me of each grief and care:For be they great or small,A sister's heart would take a share—And, if it could, take all!
And tell me of each hopeful plan,And how the future seems,—Oh, may that future to the manBe all the boy now dreams.
I've heard thee say thou wouldst be great,And with the gifted shine;'T is well; but there's a nobler fate,I pray it may be thine:
It is to be an honest man,—To elevate thy race,And like the good SamaritanDo good in every place;
To struggle bravely for the right,Though kings defend the wrong;To live as in thy Maker's sight,And in his strength be strong;
To put the spotless garment on,To keep it pure and white,And when the endless day shall dawnReceive a crown of light.
Dear brother, fame is but a breath,So I implore for theeA holy life, a happy death,A blest eternity.
Beneath the snow and frost of winter there are living seeds which shall produce abundant harvests: so beneath a cold exterior there may be a heart full of high resolves and glorious impulses, which at the right season shall burst into blossom and bear precious fruit.
How often the sun rises in a cloudless sky, to be obscured before noonday! Human life is like our fickle clime: to-day all sunshine, and to-morrow clouds. The sun is the same by day and night, but the earth comes betwixt his light and us: so when the Sun of righteousness seems to have left our horizon and we turn in vain to the right and the left to find him, may it not be that the dark, dense earth has come betwixt us and his life-giving beams, while He remains "the same yesterday, to-day and forever"?
The thistle has a fragrant smell, and the thorn a pleasant fruit. It is a disease in the shell-fish that makes the pearl: so your sickness, my friend, may be the means of your winning the Pearl of great price.
What plant would thrive if the sun shone forever? and what should we be if the sun of prosperity always shone upon our pathway? Along life's dusty thoroughfare I see the world, but not as I saw it once: sickness and sorrow have given me another pair of eyes.
Gentle breezes, balmy breezes,There is vigor in your breath,But ye cannot bring the rosesTo the leaden cheeks of death!
The soil that produces the rankest weeds would by proper care and cultivation produce the richest crops: so will the human heart when regenerated by grace and truth.
The violet cannot become the rose, the daisy cannot be the lily; and if they could all be the loveliest flower, earth would lose half its beauty. Without variety, a scene however fair within itself soon wearies us. Knowest thou the moral? Be content in thy proper sphere: then mayest be the violet or the daisy, but envy not the rose and the lily; all are beautiful when in their appointed place.
At morn the shadows slant toward the west, but toward the east at night: so when the sun of life declines the shadows stretch away toward the everlasting hills whence the eternal beams of day shall arise.
Methought I stood, at close of day,Where soft the balmy breezes play,And bright beneath the Eastern skiesThe sacred hills of Canaan rise,And saw him on the shameful tree,—The Crucified of Galilee!
I heard the mocking throng derideThe anguish of the Crucified;I saw the brilliant sun grow dim;I heard creation shriek for him;I saw him die, and die for me,—The Crucified of Galilee!
And then I saw the veil upraisedFrom the eternal world, and gazedUpon the scene in deep surprise;One form alone could fix my eyes;I knew him, yes, indeed 'twas he,—The Crucified of Galilee!
And though upon his lovely browA beam of glory rested now;Though angels praised his holy name;Yet still I knew he was the sameWho hung upon the shameful tree,—The Crucified of Galilee!
I knew him by his tender air;I knew him by the fervent prayerHe breathed for those for whom he died;I knew him by his wounded side;By these I knew that it was he,—The Crucified of Galilee!
I knew him by the loving smileWith which he welcomed sinners vile;I knew him, for he took a shareIn all his children's griefs and care;I knew him by his love for me,—The Crucified of Galilee!
The vision faded from afar;But still 't is memory's guiding star,To cheer the night and point a wayUnto an everlasting day,When I, with unveiled eyes, shall seeThe Crucified of Galilee!
A well-known group stood on the mountain sideAnd in their midst appeared the Crucified.Oft had they stood in that sequestered place,Their beaming eyes fixed on their Saviour's face;But never met on Olivet's fair browWith such emotions as they cherished now;And never with such eager spirits hungUpon the words that fell from Jesus' tongue;For never had their Master's voice beforeSounded so sweet as when—his mission o'er,—He gathered round him that devoted band,To give his blessing and his last command:"Go ye, and teach all nations in my name—The Jew and Greek, the bond and free, the same;But first proclaim a Saviour's love to thoseWho thirsted for his blood, and mocked his woes,That they, believing, through his death may live,And know their risen Saviour can forgive.Ye shall declare salvation's waters free,And bid all nations to the fountain flee;And though ye meet with perils dark and drear,And tribulation be your portion here,—Though persecution, with uplifted sword,Shall call for blood, and your own blood be poured,—Yet know that I, your Saviour and your friend,Will be with you till life itself shall end;And with all those who boldly shall proclaimTo a lost world salvation through my name,In every land, in every age and clime,Till the last trump shall sound the knell of time."
* * * * *
The humble followers of the NazareneIn silent awe gazed on the wondrous scene;Beheld their Lord in power and glory riseUp the bright pathway of the parting skies;And while they strove with piercing eyes in vainTo catch one glimpse of that dear form again,Two angels left the bright and heavenly shore,And messages of joy and love they bore.Oh, glorious message to that faithful band,Who on the mountain's top bewildered stand!Oh, glorious sound to every ransomed soul,From sea to sea, from spreading pole to poleIn every age, oh, tell the tidings o'er—"That very Jesus shall return once more!"Hark! angel-voices rend the vaulted sky,In thrilling tones those shining angels cry,"Why stand ye gazing on yon glistening dome?Heaven has received your risen Master home!The time will come, when, as ye saw him rise,He shall descend in power the parted skies."
Thou art the land of all my dreams,—Thy wanderer's heart is thine,And oft he lingers by thy streams,O holy Palestine!
A stranger in a stranger's landO'er hill and vale I roam;But hope forever points her handTowards my father's home.
They tell me that on Zion's hillThe Cross and Crescent shine:But oh, my heart is with thee still,Beloved Palestine.
I know that Israel's weary raceAre scorned on every shore,And scarcely find a dwelling-placeWhere they were lords before.
Yet, 'mid the darkness and the gloom,A light begins to break;O Israel, from the dreary tombThy buried hopes awake,—
And lips that raise the fervent prayer,"How long, O Lord, how long?"Shall change the wailings of despairTo the triumphant song.
And I may live to see the hour—The hour that must be near,—When in his royalty and powerOur Shiloh will appear.
Till then my prayers will rise for thee,Till then my heart be thine,O land beyond the stormy sea,O holy Palestine.
For many long years I have been in the school of affliction, and during that time how often I have asked the questions, When will my course be completed? when shall I receive my diploma? But let me first consider: Am I prepared for the grand examination in which angels are to be the spectators, and God himself judge? Here teachers and professors—however skilled in human wisdom, friends and relatives— however anxious for my welfare, must step aside and leave me alone before the dread tribunal! In the presence of my fellow-creatures I might wear the robes of hypocrisy and appear in reality what I am not; but what would this avail me in the presence of Him who knows every thought even before it is formed, and whose searching eye can take in at a single glance the past, present, and future of my history?
O dreaded hour! who can wonder that timid mortals put it far in the distance, and even strive to shut their eyes to its stern reality? What folly! Were the light of revelation quenched forever, there is that within every human breast which warns of a judgment to come and of a righteous retribution. Swift as the planets roll in their orbits around the sun, still swifter advances that terrible scene around which the hopes and fears, the joys and miseries of eternity cluster. It is the great centre of attraction, not only for one age or one nation, but for all who have drawn the breath of life from the grand creation anthem of stars and angels (Job 38:4-7) till stars and angels again lift up their voices in concert, and swear that "Time shall be no longer." Yet the life, the heart of each individual there will be as closely examined as if the court of Heaven were sitting for him alone, and he the only person for whom the joys of Paradise or the pains of Hell were prepared by eternal Justice!
Alone with Jesus! leave me here,Without a wish, without a fear,—My pulse is weak and faint my breathBut is He not the Lord of death?And if I live, or if I die,'T is all the same when He is nigh.
Alone with Jesus! ye who weep,And round my bed your vigils keep,My love was never half so strong,And yours—oh, I have proved it long,But when had earthly friend the powerTo comfort in a dying hour!
Alone with Jesus! oh, how sweetIn health to worship at his feet!But sweeter far when day by dayWe droop, and pine, and waste away,To feel his arms around us close,And in his bosom find repose!
Alone with Jesus! how secure,Vile in myself, in him how pure;The tempests howl, the waters beat,They harm me not in my retreat;Night deepens—'mid its gloom and chillHe draws me nearer to him still.
Alone with Jesus! what alarmsThe infant in its mother's arms?Before me death and judgment rise,—I turn my head and close mine eyes,There's naught for me to fear or do,Iknowthat he will bear me through!
Alone with Jesus! earth grows dim,—I even see my friends through him;Time, space, all things below, above,Reveal to me one Life, one Love,—That One in whom all glories shine,All beauties meet—that One is mine!
There was a bower that love had rearedAnd beautified with care;One day a messenger appearedAnd asked admission there.
He was not welcome to the bower,For something in his face,Where'er he went, had always powerTo cloud the brightest place.
Love barred the door, and cried, "Forbear,Thou art no bidden guest";Then gathered up her jewels rareAnd hid them in her breast.
Still louder knocked he than before,And still he was denied;Then, laughing at the well-barred door,He threw it open wide.
"I come from Paradise above,"The messenger began:"Oh, not in anger but in loveGod worketh out his plan.
"Sent from the King's eternal throneMy mission to fulfill,I ask one jewel of thine own,—It is the Master's will:
"One birdling from the parent nest,One lamb from out thy fold,To nestle in the Saviour's breastAs did the babes of old.
"How safe! Her resting-place how sweet!But thou wilt sadly missThe busy hands, the dancing feet,The prattle and the kiss.
"There comes an hour, so long foretoldThat many deem it vain,When in his arms thou shalt beholdThat precious lamb again.
"When earth and sea at God's commandTheir treasures shall restoreThen thou shalt clasp this little hand,Nor dread a parting more."
Love wept—her very bosom bledFor that lost little one;But Faith supported her and said,"The Master's will be done."
"The great day of his wrath is come; and who shall be able to stand?"—Rev. 6:17.
The nations tremble, and the isles are moved;All cheeks are gathering paleness; lips are dumbThat smiled in scorn but yesterday, or provedThe day of wrath would not for ages come;Each eye is fixed—there seems nor life nor breathIn that vast human sea,—but ah! it is not death.
The morning broke in splendor, as it roseUpon the fated Cities of the Plain;And men went forth refreshed from their repose,Where duty called them, or the love of gain;When sudden as the lightning's vivid glareLike heated furnace glowed the earth, the sea, the air.
From the Equator to the frozen Pole,All nations saw, and understood "the sign";The seventh angel sounded! like a scrollThe heavens departed, and a Form divineAnd awful in its grandeur was revealed,—The sun and moon grew pale, and earth astounded reeled.
Then rose a wail of anguish and despair—By men, by angels, never heard before;The tones of earth and hell were mingled there,Henceforth to be thus mingled evermoreBeyond the reach of Mercy's loving ear,Who wept and pleaded once—but will no longer hear.
But hark! in contrast what a shout of joyGoes up to heaven; it tells of victory wonO'er sin and death, o'er all that can destroy,—It tells of life eternal just begun,—Of bliss coeval with the endless years,—Of love that waited long for Him who now appears.
My soul consider—'t is no idle flightOf fancy, when she pictures thus the dayWhen sun and planets shall withdraw their light,And heaven and earth like smoke shall pass away;God hath declared it; and our Saviour hath,And lo, it hastens fast—that dreadful day of wrath.
Where wilt thou find a shelter from the storm?Not wealth, nor power, nor friends can succor then;How wilt thou gaze upon that glorious FormThat seals the doom of angels and of men?How wilt thou stand before the judgment seatAnd every idle word, and thought, and action meet?
O Lamb of God whose blood was shed for me,—Redeemer, Saviour, Lover of mankind,—Spread over me thy robes that I in TheeA shelter from that dreadful storm may find,—And calm amid the tumult and despairLook at the great white throne, and see my Surety there!
Ah, Christian, why is thy heart sad and thy brow clouded? Hast thou been gazing down into the depths of thine own soul, and—art thou startled at what thou hast there seen? Hast thou met with evil thoughts which thou wouldst gladly never have harbored, and art thou despairing because of thy short-comings and unworthiness? Art thou looking to the future with dread, and trembling lest in the hour of trial and temptation thou wilt fall?
Turn away thine eyes from the pollution of thine own sinful heart, and gaze upon One who has become a perfect sin-offering for thee. True, thou art frail and unworthy, but the Lamb that was slainis worthy, and his perfection is enough for thee; his righteousness alone recommends thee to the Father. Dost thou trust in him with all thy heart? Dost thou hope for eternal life because he died? Then thou art safe. "The eternal God is thy refuge, and underneath thee are the everlasting arms." The storms may howl, and tempests may gather around thee; the billows may rage, but they only lash the Rock upon which thou standest. "Though the earth be removed, and the mountains be cast into the midst of the sea;" yet thou art safe, for he who made the heavens and the earth is thy Father. He who commandeth the sun, and it riseth not, and sealeth up the stars; "who alone spreadeth out the heavens and treadeth upon the waves of the sea," is thy nearest and dearest friend. The same voice which said, "Let there be light, and there was light;" which commanded the raging waters, "Hitherto shalt thou come, but no farther: and here shall thy proud waves be stayed," is still whispering in thine ear, "Fear thee not, for I am with thee; be not dismayed, for I am thy God." Yes, thou art safe! thou art trusting in the mighty One of Israel, and thou shalt never be confounded.
Thou hast been looking away into the regions of the blessed; thou hast beheld with an eye of faith the things which God has prepared for those that love him, and amid the ineffable glory of that beautiful world thou hast heard the voices of the redeemed from the earth, saying: "Salvation to our God which sitteth upon the throne, and unto the Lamb," until thou hast longed to join with them in the song of redemption, singing praises forever and ever to him who has ransomed thee with his own precious blood. Then a cloud has gathered over thee, thy sinfulness has risen like a mountain, and thou hast sighed in thy spirit, "Oh, that I were sure of a part with them; oh, that I was safe as they!" and thou art as safe this moment with thy feet upon the Rock of Ages, as if thou didst walk the golden streets of the New Jerusalem, or bow with the angelic hosts around the dazzling throne of thy Creator. Thou art safe, for thy "life is hid with Christ in God"; and could'st thou ask for a surer hiding-place! Thou hast entered into an everlasting covenant with the King of kings, and while thou dost cling to his side shall it ever be broken? Thou hast entrusted thy soul into his hands, and is he not able to "keep that which thou hast committed unto him?" Thine enemies are many and powerful, but what are they compared to the living God? In the hour of temptation "he will never leave thee nor forsake thee"; when thy foes surround thee on every side, and the darkness of midnight gathers over thy soul, the Almighty arm shall lift up a standard, and thou shalt safely repose "under the shadow of his wings." "The Lord is thy rock, and thy fortress, and thy deliverer." "The Lord is thy light and thy salvation; whom shalt thou fear? The Lord is the strength of thy life, of whom shalt thou be afraid?"
Then look up, Christian! 'tis no time for desponding. The glittering spires of the Eternal City are already heaving in sight; perchance another storm, another beating against the fragile bark, and thou art there! Already the music of that glorious land steals softly over the roaring billows, and reminds thee thou art nearing the peaceful shore. Already the dark cloud which gathers above thy head is tinged with the beams of immortal glory, and away in the distance thou canst behold the first faint glimmerings of the Morning Star. Joy for thee, O wanderer! the shadows of the night are passing away, and the unclouded morning comes on apace!
Yes, thou art safe! lift up thine eyes,And calm thy anxious fears;The Sun of glory gilds the skies,And Christ thy life appears.
End of Project Gutenberg's Canadian Wild Flowers, by Helen M. Johnson