O, the day hurries byWith a flush in the skyLike the blush on a young girl's cheek,While her feet touch the tipsOf the hill, and her lipsAre moist with a dew that is sweet.On the slopes she has kissedThere cling veils of white mistShe has loosed from her shoulders in flight.And I reach through the hazeTill my soul reels and sways,Asking Evening the secret of Night.Then I see the veils shift,Setting shadows adrift;The Sibyl has cycled her flight.And my soul in its gazeThrough the challenging hazeStands baffled and blind in the night.
O, the day hurries byWith a flush in the skyLike the blush on a young girl's cheek,While her feet touch the tipsOf the hill, and her lipsAre moist with a dew that is sweet.On the slopes she has kissedThere cling veils of white mistShe has loosed from her shoulders in flight.And I reach through the hazeTill my soul reels and sways,Asking Evening the secret of Night.Then I see the veils shift,Setting shadows adrift;The Sibyl has cycled her flight.And my soul in its gazeThrough the challenging hazeStands baffled and blind in the night.
O, the day hurries byWith a flush in the skyLike the blush on a young girl's cheek,While her feet touch the tipsOf the hill, and her lipsAre moist with a dew that is sweet.
On the slopes she has kissedThere cling veils of white mistShe has loosed from her shoulders in flight.And I reach through the hazeTill my soul reels and sways,Asking Evening the secret of Night.
Then I see the veils shift,Setting shadows adrift;The Sibyl has cycled her flight.And my soul in its gazeThrough the challenging hazeStands baffled and blind in the night.
To-day a passing throng with anxious paceBrought me a glimpse of one sweet, noble faceTransfigured by the tenderness and graceOf seasoned sorrow and a hard-lost race.It shamed me that I looked so sullen, sad,When I, full richly blessed and amply cladShould live in smiles and making others glad,And keep within whatever spite I had.This face, whose smile was built on grief lived through,Both lifted up my own, yet warned me too,For as the shining beacon, born of barren rocksAnd reared on reefs that hide their rending shocksWould not be there dispensing its warm lightWere there not dangers lodged in wily night;Just so, this passing, patient faceCould ne'er have touched me at my hurried paceBut for the courage of its tender graceThat came with sorrow and a hard-lost race.
To-day a passing throng with anxious paceBrought me a glimpse of one sweet, noble faceTransfigured by the tenderness and graceOf seasoned sorrow and a hard-lost race.It shamed me that I looked so sullen, sad,When I, full richly blessed and amply cladShould live in smiles and making others glad,And keep within whatever spite I had.This face, whose smile was built on grief lived through,Both lifted up my own, yet warned me too,For as the shining beacon, born of barren rocksAnd reared on reefs that hide their rending shocksWould not be there dispensing its warm lightWere there not dangers lodged in wily night;Just so, this passing, patient faceCould ne'er have touched me at my hurried paceBut for the courage of its tender graceThat came with sorrow and a hard-lost race.
To-day a passing throng with anxious paceBrought me a glimpse of one sweet, noble faceTransfigured by the tenderness and graceOf seasoned sorrow and a hard-lost race.
It shamed me that I looked so sullen, sad,When I, full richly blessed and amply cladShould live in smiles and making others glad,And keep within whatever spite I had.This face, whose smile was built on grief lived through,Both lifted up my own, yet warned me too,For as the shining beacon, born of barren rocksAnd reared on reefs that hide their rending shocksWould not be there dispensing its warm lightWere there not dangers lodged in wily night;
Just so, this passing, patient faceCould ne'er have touched me at my hurried paceBut for the courage of its tender graceThat came with sorrow and a hard-lost race.
[Dedicated to the National burying ground at Gettysburg on the occasion of the fiftieth anniversary of that Battle.]
[Dedicated to the National burying ground at Gettysburg on the occasion of the fiftieth anniversary of that Battle.]
Across the field in silent files they sleep,With none to rout their ranks while Death doth keepHis watch relentless o'er the nameless heapOf unknown men beneath the numbered stones.More orderly are they than when they marchedIn broken regiments the sun had parchedAnd powder torn, across the fields, fire-arched.And from their silence now rise up loud tonesWhich speak to all that breathe, a new command,Whose voice shall ring through all the peaceful land:“Be strong! Keep brave thy heart and clean, thy hand,To right with promptness all the wrongs that riseTo hide the God-head's face from brothers' eyes.Rear up in love the Nation's life we bore!Be strong, be strong, till wrong shall be no more!”
Across the field in silent files they sleep,With none to rout their ranks while Death doth keepHis watch relentless o'er the nameless heapOf unknown men beneath the numbered stones.More orderly are they than when they marchedIn broken regiments the sun had parchedAnd powder torn, across the fields, fire-arched.And from their silence now rise up loud tonesWhich speak to all that breathe, a new command,Whose voice shall ring through all the peaceful land:“Be strong! Keep brave thy heart and clean, thy hand,To right with promptness all the wrongs that riseTo hide the God-head's face from brothers' eyes.Rear up in love the Nation's life we bore!Be strong, be strong, till wrong shall be no more!”
Across the field in silent files they sleep,With none to rout their ranks while Death doth keepHis watch relentless o'er the nameless heapOf unknown men beneath the numbered stones.More orderly are they than when they marchedIn broken regiments the sun had parchedAnd powder torn, across the fields, fire-arched.And from their silence now rise up loud tonesWhich speak to all that breathe, a new command,Whose voice shall ring through all the peaceful land:“Be strong! Keep brave thy heart and clean, thy hand,To right with promptness all the wrongs that riseTo hide the God-head's face from brothers' eyes.Rear up in love the Nation's life we bore!Be strong, be strong, till wrong shall be no more!”
[July 30, 1864]
They come, they come,The town with fear is dumb!Their guns have fired from Federal Hill,It seems we hear their voices stillDemanding gold in tones more boldThan all the warnings ever toldSince Chambersburg these hundred yearsHas triumphed over frontier fears.They come, they come,With ruin planned for someWhose homes, the seat of hearts' desire,They pitilessly loot and fireTill only desolate ashes markThe sight of hearths forever dark,And only memories live unmarredTo haunt the walls the flames have charred.They're here, they're here,They're snatching all that's dear!The glare of flames, the noonday nightOf smokes that choke our shrieks of fright;The screams of birds, the horses' neighs,The pets that mourn in countless ways;The splash of silver thrown in wells—All this of hideous plunder tells.They've gone, they've gone,Their ranks are speeding on;Their vandal work accomplished now,They southward flee and care not howOur sick, unhoused, have joined our dead,And well men vainly seek a bedWhereon to lay the frenzied headOf some dear one, by fever fed.They've gone, they've gone,Their years are speeding on.Yet, should they come again to-dayWe'd greet them in a fervent way:The Chambersburg they left in tearsIs born anew these fifty years,And crowned with triumphs toil has won,Stands royal host, with silenced gun.
They come, they come,The town with fear is dumb!Their guns have fired from Federal Hill,It seems we hear their voices stillDemanding gold in tones more boldThan all the warnings ever toldSince Chambersburg these hundred yearsHas triumphed over frontier fears.They come, they come,With ruin planned for someWhose homes, the seat of hearts' desire,They pitilessly loot and fireTill only desolate ashes markThe sight of hearths forever dark,And only memories live unmarredTo haunt the walls the flames have charred.They're here, they're here,They're snatching all that's dear!The glare of flames, the noonday nightOf smokes that choke our shrieks of fright;The screams of birds, the horses' neighs,The pets that mourn in countless ways;The splash of silver thrown in wells—All this of hideous plunder tells.They've gone, they've gone,Their ranks are speeding on;Their vandal work accomplished now,They southward flee and care not howOur sick, unhoused, have joined our dead,And well men vainly seek a bedWhereon to lay the frenzied headOf some dear one, by fever fed.They've gone, they've gone,Their years are speeding on.Yet, should they come again to-dayWe'd greet them in a fervent way:The Chambersburg they left in tearsIs born anew these fifty years,And crowned with triumphs toil has won,Stands royal host, with silenced gun.
They come, they come,The town with fear is dumb!Their guns have fired from Federal Hill,It seems we hear their voices stillDemanding gold in tones more boldThan all the warnings ever toldSince Chambersburg these hundred yearsHas triumphed over frontier fears.
They come, they come,With ruin planned for someWhose homes, the seat of hearts' desire,They pitilessly loot and fireTill only desolate ashes markThe sight of hearths forever dark,And only memories live unmarredTo haunt the walls the flames have charred.
They're here, they're here,They're snatching all that's dear!The glare of flames, the noonday nightOf smokes that choke our shrieks of fright;The screams of birds, the horses' neighs,The pets that mourn in countless ways;The splash of silver thrown in wells—All this of hideous plunder tells.
They've gone, they've gone,Their ranks are speeding on;Their vandal work accomplished now,They southward flee and care not howOur sick, unhoused, have joined our dead,And well men vainly seek a bedWhereon to lay the frenzied headOf some dear one, by fever fed.
They've gone, they've gone,Their years are speeding on.Yet, should they come again to-dayWe'd greet them in a fervent way:The Chambersburg they left in tearsIs born anew these fifty years,And crowned with triumphs toil has won,Stands royal host, with silenced gun.
Severed forever,Yet closer than everTwo neighboring continents lie.The day when these landsCould reach out and touch handsForever is gone and passed by.Severed forever,Yet closer than ever,For what a new union is this!They are neighbors made kinSince the wedding has beenOf seas that were wed with a kiss.Now both mighty oceans were born of these landsThat fed them with streams from their breast,And wedded, will bring to the old parent-sandsNew wealth from the East and the West.So, kindred forever,And closer than everTwo neighboring continents lie:Their children are one,A new era begun,That's watched with a world-sweeping eye.
Severed forever,Yet closer than everTwo neighboring continents lie.The day when these landsCould reach out and touch handsForever is gone and passed by.Severed forever,Yet closer than ever,For what a new union is this!They are neighbors made kinSince the wedding has beenOf seas that were wed with a kiss.Now both mighty oceans were born of these landsThat fed them with streams from their breast,And wedded, will bring to the old parent-sandsNew wealth from the East and the West.So, kindred forever,And closer than everTwo neighboring continents lie:Their children are one,A new era begun,That's watched with a world-sweeping eye.
Severed forever,Yet closer than everTwo neighboring continents lie.The day when these landsCould reach out and touch handsForever is gone and passed by.
Severed forever,Yet closer than ever,For what a new union is this!They are neighbors made kinSince the wedding has beenOf seas that were wed with a kiss.
Now both mighty oceans were born of these landsThat fed them with streams from their breast,And wedded, will bring to the old parent-sandsNew wealth from the East and the West.
So, kindred forever,And closer than everTwo neighboring continents lie:Their children are one,A new era begun,That's watched with a world-sweeping eye.
“Our modern monogamous family represents the survival of religious, ethical, economic, and legal elements from all the intermingling streams which unite to form civilization.”—Edward Devins.
“Our modern monogamous family represents the survival of religious, ethical, economic, and legal elements from all the intermingling streams which unite to form civilization.”—Edward Devins.
A mighty stream runs past my house,Right through my grounds it flows;From unseen springs it comes, and thenTo unseen springs it goes.And rich deposits in my fieldsIt brings from distant lands,The welcome wealth of mingled streamsThat rose from blended sands.But oftentimes a drifting wreckIt carries to my door,And I must hold it, I who see,To check it evermore;Lest some one farther down the streamWhose face I cannot seeMight snag his craft and perish there,And dying, censure me.Not lightly can I turn its wayAside from channels old,Yet I can change the shores I own,Thus much can be controlled.And all that marks my lifetime's goalIs that its onward flowDown past my house and through my landsMay ever purer grow.
A mighty stream runs past my house,Right through my grounds it flows;From unseen springs it comes, and thenTo unseen springs it goes.And rich deposits in my fieldsIt brings from distant lands,The welcome wealth of mingled streamsThat rose from blended sands.But oftentimes a drifting wreckIt carries to my door,And I must hold it, I who see,To check it evermore;Lest some one farther down the streamWhose face I cannot seeMight snag his craft and perish there,And dying, censure me.Not lightly can I turn its wayAside from channels old,Yet I can change the shores I own,Thus much can be controlled.And all that marks my lifetime's goalIs that its onward flowDown past my house and through my landsMay ever purer grow.
A mighty stream runs past my house,Right through my grounds it flows;From unseen springs it comes, and thenTo unseen springs it goes.
And rich deposits in my fieldsIt brings from distant lands,The welcome wealth of mingled streamsThat rose from blended sands.
But oftentimes a drifting wreckIt carries to my door,And I must hold it, I who see,To check it evermore;
Lest some one farther down the streamWhose face I cannot seeMight snag his craft and perish there,And dying, censure me.
Not lightly can I turn its wayAside from channels old,Yet I can change the shores I own,Thus much can be controlled.
And all that marks my lifetime's goalIs that its onward flowDown past my house and through my landsMay ever purer grow.
[Suggested by the death of a young girl.]
[Suggested by the death of a young girl.]
The white, soft robes that clingAbout her tender form and youngHave caught earth's last faint breezeAnd flutter in the earliest breathOf God's new-dawning day,Revealing on the topmost stepThe slender foot that restsUpon the threshold she shall cross,And baring the young armThat mothered infant Hope.And in her dreaming eyes so mild,That glance a moment downTo where her loved ones longing dwell,There lives no hungering regret;For on the doorway latch there restsThe fragile hand so pale;It moves, the door swings softly now,The sweet soul enters in,While one long ray of light falls throughAnd filters down to earth.
The white, soft robes that clingAbout her tender form and youngHave caught earth's last faint breezeAnd flutter in the earliest breathOf God's new-dawning day,Revealing on the topmost stepThe slender foot that restsUpon the threshold she shall cross,And baring the young armThat mothered infant Hope.And in her dreaming eyes so mild,That glance a moment downTo where her loved ones longing dwell,There lives no hungering regret;For on the doorway latch there restsThe fragile hand so pale;It moves, the door swings softly now,The sweet soul enters in,While one long ray of light falls throughAnd filters down to earth.
The white, soft robes that clingAbout her tender form and youngHave caught earth's last faint breezeAnd flutter in the earliest breathOf God's new-dawning day,Revealing on the topmost stepThe slender foot that restsUpon the threshold she shall cross,And baring the young armThat mothered infant Hope.And in her dreaming eyes so mild,That glance a moment downTo where her loved ones longing dwell,There lives no hungering regret;For on the doorway latch there restsThe fragile hand so pale;It moves, the door swings softly now,The sweet soul enters in,While one long ray of light falls throughAnd filters down to earth.
O Nemesis, thou goddess born of Night,Thou younger sister of stern Death and Sleep,Close-couched art thou with those grim Three who keepThe spun and measured threads of life aright;O Nemesis, that shuns each form of light,By night o'er all the world thy glance doth sweepTo seek out crime, its penalty to reapWhen rosy dawn has put the stars to flight.Thy fateful voice rings dread from age to age,Oft times as baying dog or hooting owl;And clear upon thy all-recording pageIs writ each deed e'er done with purpose foul.Not even can thy brother Death assuageThy pangs, Remorse, more dread than Cerberus' growl.
O Nemesis, thou goddess born of Night,Thou younger sister of stern Death and Sleep,Close-couched art thou with those grim Three who keepThe spun and measured threads of life aright;O Nemesis, that shuns each form of light,By night o'er all the world thy glance doth sweepTo seek out crime, its penalty to reapWhen rosy dawn has put the stars to flight.Thy fateful voice rings dread from age to age,Oft times as baying dog or hooting owl;And clear upon thy all-recording pageIs writ each deed e'er done with purpose foul.Not even can thy brother Death assuageThy pangs, Remorse, more dread than Cerberus' growl.
O Nemesis, thou goddess born of Night,Thou younger sister of stern Death and Sleep,Close-couched art thou with those grim Three who keepThe spun and measured threads of life aright;O Nemesis, that shuns each form of light,By night o'er all the world thy glance doth sweepTo seek out crime, its penalty to reapWhen rosy dawn has put the stars to flight.
Thy fateful voice rings dread from age to age,Oft times as baying dog or hooting owl;And clear upon thy all-recording pageIs writ each deed e'er done with purpose foul.Not even can thy brother Death assuageThy pangs, Remorse, more dread than Cerberus' growl.
Whoever the God that has called me to light,Has willed that my soul should have faith in His might:God is our fountain-head, God is our source,From Him and to Him we follow our course;Wavering, some of us, some ever bold,All of us coming at last to His fold.
Whoever the God that has called me to light,Has willed that my soul should have faith in His might:God is our fountain-head, God is our source,From Him and to Him we follow our course;Wavering, some of us, some ever bold,All of us coming at last to His fold.
Whoever the God that has called me to light,Has willed that my soul should have faith in His might:God is our fountain-head, God is our source,From Him and to Him we follow our course;Wavering, some of us, some ever bold,All of us coming at last to His fold.
[Suggested by an article in the Philosophic Review.]
[Suggested by an article in the Philosophic Review.]
I'm despot here, imperious tyrant too,And glory in my master-loneliness.What matters it if kindred I have none,If none I deign to call my kindly friend?My greatest friend is my most virile foe,Who gives me widest room my strength to prove.All-conquering, master-man,Through will to power, through power to life I press.I love my neighbor, shield the poor, the weak,I tarry on my way to cheer the bruteWho claims compassion for a wounded paw?I want no pity, and no pity give.Shall I who thirst for life, and must achieve,Have ought to do with death, disease,Or racking pain, unless it beTo mount aloft by trampling on men's graves,By trampling over graves to mount aloft,Aloft, till I have shaped a world myself,Of men who live, but only live to serve?I want no pity and no pity give.The strong shall help the weak to die—True charity is this, to keep the virile stockOf master-morals whence I late have sprungFree from the softening manner of the weakAnd so, forbearance, love, and sympathy,Your unsubstantial spirit and the GodYou name the friend of sinners and the poor,I banish with contempt. What peace can they,What fullness, strength, purvey to me, a lordOf Truth surmounting womanish pity, love?For I'm the Last of Men.
I'm despot here, imperious tyrant too,And glory in my master-loneliness.What matters it if kindred I have none,If none I deign to call my kindly friend?My greatest friend is my most virile foe,Who gives me widest room my strength to prove.All-conquering, master-man,Through will to power, through power to life I press.I love my neighbor, shield the poor, the weak,I tarry on my way to cheer the bruteWho claims compassion for a wounded paw?I want no pity, and no pity give.Shall I who thirst for life, and must achieve,Have ought to do with death, disease,Or racking pain, unless it beTo mount aloft by trampling on men's graves,By trampling over graves to mount aloft,Aloft, till I have shaped a world myself,Of men who live, but only live to serve?I want no pity and no pity give.The strong shall help the weak to die—True charity is this, to keep the virile stockOf master-morals whence I late have sprungFree from the softening manner of the weakAnd so, forbearance, love, and sympathy,Your unsubstantial spirit and the GodYou name the friend of sinners and the poor,I banish with contempt. What peace can they,What fullness, strength, purvey to me, a lordOf Truth surmounting womanish pity, love?For I'm the Last of Men.
I'm despot here, imperious tyrant too,And glory in my master-loneliness.What matters it if kindred I have none,If none I deign to call my kindly friend?My greatest friend is my most virile foe,Who gives me widest room my strength to prove.All-conquering, master-man,Through will to power, through power to life I press.I love my neighbor, shield the poor, the weak,I tarry on my way to cheer the bruteWho claims compassion for a wounded paw?I want no pity, and no pity give.Shall I who thirst for life, and must achieve,Have ought to do with death, disease,Or racking pain, unless it beTo mount aloft by trampling on men's graves,By trampling over graves to mount aloft,Aloft, till I have shaped a world myself,Of men who live, but only live to serve?I want no pity and no pity give.The strong shall help the weak to die—True charity is this, to keep the virile stockOf master-morals whence I late have sprungFree from the softening manner of the weakAnd so, forbearance, love, and sympathy,Your unsubstantial spirit and the GodYou name the friend of sinners and the poor,I banish with contempt. What peace can they,What fullness, strength, purvey to me, a lordOf Truth surmounting womanish pity, love?For I'm the Last of Men.
I'm maker and mover of men,I've power as much as I will,But not through compressionNor bold violationOf every man's birthright to live.Aye, talk all you will of your natural man,Of Titans discharging their strength,Say even, we're softened, degenerate men,Our God and philanthropy, weak.And raising the fallen, supporting the frailIs folly, and hindrance to progress, you say?But stay, Overman, and look deeper, I pray.You'll find it's no unworthy taskTo utilize forces now running astray,Restore to full strength the degenerate crowd.Aye, this is a task not unworthy of you.I too aim at power, but not for myself:The more men I love, the more I can serve,'Tis thus I would measure my strength.You move in your separate realm where you're king,But I rule a world that is larger than yours,A world of God's vigorous sons.I'm maker and mover of men if you will,And more, I've the love of them all.
I'm maker and mover of men,I've power as much as I will,But not through compressionNor bold violationOf every man's birthright to live.Aye, talk all you will of your natural man,Of Titans discharging their strength,Say even, we're softened, degenerate men,Our God and philanthropy, weak.And raising the fallen, supporting the frailIs folly, and hindrance to progress, you say?But stay, Overman, and look deeper, I pray.You'll find it's no unworthy taskTo utilize forces now running astray,Restore to full strength the degenerate crowd.Aye, this is a task not unworthy of you.I too aim at power, but not for myself:The more men I love, the more I can serve,'Tis thus I would measure my strength.You move in your separate realm where you're king,But I rule a world that is larger than yours,A world of God's vigorous sons.I'm maker and mover of men if you will,And more, I've the love of them all.
I'm maker and mover of men,I've power as much as I will,But not through compressionNor bold violationOf every man's birthright to live.Aye, talk all you will of your natural man,Of Titans discharging their strength,Say even, we're softened, degenerate men,Our God and philanthropy, weak.And raising the fallen, supporting the frailIs folly, and hindrance to progress, you say?But stay, Overman, and look deeper, I pray.You'll find it's no unworthy taskTo utilize forces now running astray,Restore to full strength the degenerate crowd.Aye, this is a task not unworthy of you.I too aim at power, but not for myself:The more men I love, the more I can serve,'Tis thus I would measure my strength.You move in your separate realm where you're king,But I rule a world that is larger than yours,A world of God's vigorous sons.I'm maker and mover of men if you will,And more, I've the love of them all.
A heaving sea life seems to me,Its passions, surging waves.Each soul embarks upon that seaAnd each the billows braves.Ambition's wave o'ertops the rest,But when the storm-clouds form,Is first to feel upon its breastThe fury of the storm.Hope's waves at first in ripples flow,But as they onward glide,To billows swell, then larger grow,Advancing side by side.Each bark is frail, its strength is smallTo cope with waves so vast,Yet one great Guide can pilot allAnd harbor them at last.
A heaving sea life seems to me,Its passions, surging waves.Each soul embarks upon that seaAnd each the billows braves.Ambition's wave o'ertops the rest,But when the storm-clouds form,Is first to feel upon its breastThe fury of the storm.Hope's waves at first in ripples flow,But as they onward glide,To billows swell, then larger grow,Advancing side by side.Each bark is frail, its strength is smallTo cope with waves so vast,Yet one great Guide can pilot allAnd harbor them at last.
A heaving sea life seems to me,Its passions, surging waves.Each soul embarks upon that seaAnd each the billows braves.
Ambition's wave o'ertops the rest,But when the storm-clouds form,Is first to feel upon its breastThe fury of the storm.
Hope's waves at first in ripples flow,But as they onward glide,To billows swell, then larger grow,Advancing side by side.
Each bark is frail, its strength is smallTo cope with waves so vast,Yet one great Guide can pilot allAnd harbor them at last.
O Thou great Father and Progenitor,Dispensing form to mists ethereal,Thou universal Builder and great One,Transcending heaven, plain and sea;The world-soul animating all,And calling latent life to glories new,Supreme, yet dwelling in the merest stone,Directing all things to the perfect state!Teach me to nurture then, within my breast,Traces of the world-Creator's selfInfused to mortal members at my birth.Thus shall I rest a part of the great One:I cannot die, the world-soul is withinWhich wakes, to sleep in Thee, and wake again.
O Thou great Father and Progenitor,Dispensing form to mists ethereal,Thou universal Builder and great One,Transcending heaven, plain and sea;The world-soul animating all,And calling latent life to glories new,Supreme, yet dwelling in the merest stone,Directing all things to the perfect state!Teach me to nurture then, within my breast,Traces of the world-Creator's selfInfused to mortal members at my birth.Thus shall I rest a part of the great One:I cannot die, the world-soul is withinWhich wakes, to sleep in Thee, and wake again.
O Thou great Father and Progenitor,Dispensing form to mists ethereal,Thou universal Builder and great One,Transcending heaven, plain and sea;The world-soul animating all,And calling latent life to glories new,Supreme, yet dwelling in the merest stone,Directing all things to the perfect state!Teach me to nurture then, within my breast,Traces of the world-Creator's selfInfused to mortal members at my birth.Thus shall I rest a part of the great One:I cannot die, the world-soul is withinWhich wakes, to sleep in Thee, and wake again.
An oily tide on a shining beach,Then, out as far as the eye can reach,The spaceless plain of waiting seaAnd hush of glad expectancy,Breathed from the gray, cool, sunless lightThat weds the day with darkest night.While out where ocean greets the sky,A range of purple cloud-peaks lie,That circle round the silent seaAnd hide the glorious mysteryOf God's great secrets which the dayMay bring to us, or bear away.Then palest rose tints up the crestOf some peaks more than all the rest,And soon a single line of goldComes tracing them in etchings bold,Till, lo; the ramparts disappear,God's sun of righteousness is here.Men's little ships sail out to seaAnd from the depths, call back to me,Who find in this day newly bornA glimpse of earth's creation morn.
An oily tide on a shining beach,Then, out as far as the eye can reach,The spaceless plain of waiting seaAnd hush of glad expectancy,Breathed from the gray, cool, sunless lightThat weds the day with darkest night.While out where ocean greets the sky,A range of purple cloud-peaks lie,That circle round the silent seaAnd hide the glorious mysteryOf God's great secrets which the dayMay bring to us, or bear away.Then palest rose tints up the crestOf some peaks more than all the rest,And soon a single line of goldComes tracing them in etchings bold,Till, lo; the ramparts disappear,God's sun of righteousness is here.Men's little ships sail out to seaAnd from the depths, call back to me,Who find in this day newly bornA glimpse of earth's creation morn.
An oily tide on a shining beach,Then, out as far as the eye can reach,The spaceless plain of waiting seaAnd hush of glad expectancy,Breathed from the gray, cool, sunless lightThat weds the day with darkest night.While out where ocean greets the sky,A range of purple cloud-peaks lie,That circle round the silent seaAnd hide the glorious mysteryOf God's great secrets which the dayMay bring to us, or bear away.Then palest rose tints up the crestOf some peaks more than all the rest,And soon a single line of goldComes tracing them in etchings bold,Till, lo; the ramparts disappear,God's sun of righteousness is here.Men's little ships sail out to seaAnd from the depths, call back to me,Who find in this day newly bornA glimpse of earth's creation morn.
Many mansions, Lord, are ThineIn the universe, Thy home;Glowing planets bear Thy sign,Seething yet with primal foam.Star-clouds, still a shapeless horde,Nascent cellsAnd burned-out shells,Unborn worlds that wait Thy wordHold Thee as their tenant, Lord.Yet no fairer home is ThineThan the fields of Autumn Earth,Where the fruit of tree and vineSpread a feast of matchless worth;Every field her gift hath sent,All the year her labor spent;Every man hath shared his gainFrom the wealth of mine and plain.Yes, the stars of newer birthBy their beauty praise Thy name,All the heavens joining EarthThy wide bounty to proclaim;All Thy mansions, Lord are fair,Yet can none with Earth compare,For Thy Holy Son dwelt there,When He came, man's life to share.
Many mansions, Lord, are ThineIn the universe, Thy home;Glowing planets bear Thy sign,Seething yet with primal foam.Star-clouds, still a shapeless horde,Nascent cellsAnd burned-out shells,Unborn worlds that wait Thy wordHold Thee as their tenant, Lord.Yet no fairer home is ThineThan the fields of Autumn Earth,Where the fruit of tree and vineSpread a feast of matchless worth;Every field her gift hath sent,All the year her labor spent;Every man hath shared his gainFrom the wealth of mine and plain.Yes, the stars of newer birthBy their beauty praise Thy name,All the heavens joining EarthThy wide bounty to proclaim;All Thy mansions, Lord are fair,Yet can none with Earth compare,For Thy Holy Son dwelt there,When He came, man's life to share.
Many mansions, Lord, are ThineIn the universe, Thy home;Glowing planets bear Thy sign,Seething yet with primal foam.Star-clouds, still a shapeless horde,Nascent cellsAnd burned-out shells,Unborn worlds that wait Thy wordHold Thee as their tenant, Lord.
Yet no fairer home is ThineThan the fields of Autumn Earth,Where the fruit of tree and vineSpread a feast of matchless worth;Every field her gift hath sent,All the year her labor spent;Every man hath shared his gainFrom the wealth of mine and plain.
Yes, the stars of newer birthBy their beauty praise Thy name,All the heavens joining EarthThy wide bounty to proclaim;All Thy mansions, Lord are fair,Yet can none with Earth compare,For Thy Holy Son dwelt there,When He came, man's life to share.
My waking eyesBehold new skiesWith Easter's dawning glory bright.Since Thou didst riseNew meaning liesIn morning's young, transforming light.For Thou art the dawn of the world, dear Lord,Our Christ of the breaking day.Death was the nightAnd Thou, the first lightThat showed where God's pathway lay;Sin was the darkAnd Thou, the first sparkThat rolled the late shadows away.Thou art the dawn of the world, dear Lord,Our Christ of the coming day.
My waking eyesBehold new skiesWith Easter's dawning glory bright.Since Thou didst riseNew meaning liesIn morning's young, transforming light.For Thou art the dawn of the world, dear Lord,Our Christ of the breaking day.Death was the nightAnd Thou, the first lightThat showed where God's pathway lay;Sin was the darkAnd Thou, the first sparkThat rolled the late shadows away.Thou art the dawn of the world, dear Lord,Our Christ of the coming day.
My waking eyesBehold new skiesWith Easter's dawning glory bright.Since Thou didst riseNew meaning liesIn morning's young, transforming light.
For Thou art the dawn of the world, dear Lord,Our Christ of the breaking day.Death was the nightAnd Thou, the first lightThat showed where God's pathway lay;Sin was the darkAnd Thou, the first sparkThat rolled the late shadows away.Thou art the dawn of the world, dear Lord,Our Christ of the coming day.
Come, weary ones, with care oppressed,Cease earth-born care and strife.Come children, too, rejoice in life,The Holy Child is born.Disease and sorrow, yea, e'en death,Have reigned on earth too long;Her rightful monarch praise in song,The Child of Bethlehem.Behold the night in silence wrapped,With perfect peace bespread,The star above Christ's infant headWhich guides the Wise Men there.Glad angels guard yon manger-bed;Now hearken how they singThe praises of their new-born King,The Child of Bethlehem.
Come, weary ones, with care oppressed,Cease earth-born care and strife.Come children, too, rejoice in life,The Holy Child is born.Disease and sorrow, yea, e'en death,Have reigned on earth too long;Her rightful monarch praise in song,The Child of Bethlehem.Behold the night in silence wrapped,With perfect peace bespread,The star above Christ's infant headWhich guides the Wise Men there.Glad angels guard yon manger-bed;Now hearken how they singThe praises of their new-born King,The Child of Bethlehem.
Come, weary ones, with care oppressed,Cease earth-born care and strife.Come children, too, rejoice in life,The Holy Child is born.
Disease and sorrow, yea, e'en death,Have reigned on earth too long;Her rightful monarch praise in song,The Child of Bethlehem.
Behold the night in silence wrapped,With perfect peace bespread,The star above Christ's infant headWhich guides the Wise Men there.
Glad angels guard yon manger-bed;Now hearken how they singThe praises of their new-born King,The Child of Bethlehem.
“Joy to all, this Christmas morn,Christ our Saviour has been born.”Peal the chimes in yonder steepleRinging forth to all the people.“Joy to all, this Christmas morn!None are friendless, none forlorn.Those whose hearts by grief were saddenedBy the Saviour's birth are gladdened.“Joy to all this Christmas morn!Barrier gold and selfish scornVanish, while in hymns of praiseRich and poor their voices raise.“Joy to all this Christmas morn!Overflowing plenty's horn,Wondrous treasures round us fall,Gifts from God to great and small.“Nature's gift's a cloak of snow,Under which to live and grow;But to man is given love,Love of Christ, from God above.”
“Joy to all, this Christmas morn,Christ our Saviour has been born.”Peal the chimes in yonder steepleRinging forth to all the people.“Joy to all, this Christmas morn!None are friendless, none forlorn.Those whose hearts by grief were saddenedBy the Saviour's birth are gladdened.“Joy to all this Christmas morn!Barrier gold and selfish scornVanish, while in hymns of praiseRich and poor their voices raise.“Joy to all this Christmas morn!Overflowing plenty's horn,Wondrous treasures round us fall,Gifts from God to great and small.“Nature's gift's a cloak of snow,Under which to live and grow;But to man is given love,Love of Christ, from God above.”
“Joy to all, this Christmas morn,Christ our Saviour has been born.”Peal the chimes in yonder steepleRinging forth to all the people.
“Joy to all, this Christmas morn!None are friendless, none forlorn.Those whose hearts by grief were saddenedBy the Saviour's birth are gladdened.
“Joy to all this Christmas morn!Barrier gold and selfish scornVanish, while in hymns of praiseRich and poor their voices raise.
“Joy to all this Christmas morn!Overflowing plenty's horn,Wondrous treasures round us fall,Gifts from God to great and small.
“Nature's gift's a cloak of snow,Under which to live and grow;But to man is given love,Love of Christ, from God above.”
Hushaby, lullaby, rockaby, dear,Sleep, little one, thou hast nothing to fear;Safe in thy crib by the blazing log fire,Rocked by a hand that never can tire;Under thy coverlets dainty and warm,Thou knowest naught of the keen winter's storm.Hushaby, lullaby, rockaby, dear,Sleep, little one, thou hast nothing to fear.Under the skies of night, crystal and cold,Studded with all the bright stars it can hold,Sleep the wild flowers that fell with the frost,Sleep the wild flowers the autumn breeze tossed.Leaves and new snow keep them dainty and warm,What can they know of the keen winter's storm?Some day will Spring with her torch and her rainCome to the place where the flowers have lain,Melting their covers of glistening snow,Bidding her zephyrs through treetops to blow,Thus she will wake them and kiss them with dew,Calling them forth to life that is new.So, baby dear, when to-morrow's fresh lightDawns on the world that is shrouded in night,Then will the angels who guarded thy sleep,Give me their watch o'er my baby to keep.Thou with thine eyes of the heaven's own blue,Waking, will call me to life that is new.Hushaby, lullaby, rockaby, dear,Sleep, little one, thou hast nothing to fear.
Hushaby, lullaby, rockaby, dear,Sleep, little one, thou hast nothing to fear;Safe in thy crib by the blazing log fire,Rocked by a hand that never can tire;Under thy coverlets dainty and warm,Thou knowest naught of the keen winter's storm.Hushaby, lullaby, rockaby, dear,Sleep, little one, thou hast nothing to fear.Under the skies of night, crystal and cold,Studded with all the bright stars it can hold,Sleep the wild flowers that fell with the frost,Sleep the wild flowers the autumn breeze tossed.Leaves and new snow keep them dainty and warm,What can they know of the keen winter's storm?Some day will Spring with her torch and her rainCome to the place where the flowers have lain,Melting their covers of glistening snow,Bidding her zephyrs through treetops to blow,Thus she will wake them and kiss them with dew,Calling them forth to life that is new.So, baby dear, when to-morrow's fresh lightDawns on the world that is shrouded in night,Then will the angels who guarded thy sleep,Give me their watch o'er my baby to keep.Thou with thine eyes of the heaven's own blue,Waking, will call me to life that is new.Hushaby, lullaby, rockaby, dear,Sleep, little one, thou hast nothing to fear.
Hushaby, lullaby, rockaby, dear,Sleep, little one, thou hast nothing to fear;Safe in thy crib by the blazing log fire,Rocked by a hand that never can tire;Under thy coverlets dainty and warm,Thou knowest naught of the keen winter's storm.Hushaby, lullaby, rockaby, dear,Sleep, little one, thou hast nothing to fear.
Under the skies of night, crystal and cold,Studded with all the bright stars it can hold,Sleep the wild flowers that fell with the frost,Sleep the wild flowers the autumn breeze tossed.Leaves and new snow keep them dainty and warm,What can they know of the keen winter's storm?
Some day will Spring with her torch and her rainCome to the place where the flowers have lain,Melting their covers of glistening snow,Bidding her zephyrs through treetops to blow,Thus she will wake them and kiss them with dew,Calling them forth to life that is new.
So, baby dear, when to-morrow's fresh lightDawns on the world that is shrouded in night,Then will the angels who guarded thy sleep,Give me their watch o'er my baby to keep.Thou with thine eyes of the heaven's own blue,Waking, will call me to life that is new.Hushaby, lullaby, rockaby, dear,Sleep, little one, thou hast nothing to fear.
[2]Set to music by Professor Silas Pratt, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.
[2]Set to music by Professor Silas Pratt, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.
[For Children]
One day it rained, and we all criedBecause we couldn't play outside.But mother said, “Dears, don't complain,We'll still have fun in spite of rain.”And so we fixed a big paradeWith really guns, and weren't afraid,Because we knew they wouldn't shoot.Our Dotty wore her bathing suit,While overalls we found for Jack,With Daddy's old blue fishing sack.Leroy was oldest, so he woreA scout suit from the boy next door.Then—“Left, right.” Up and down we marched.“Hurray, Hurrah,” till all our throats were parched.Storming round our mother's chair,Giving her an awful scare,“Hurray, hurrah,” up and down we marched.And when we captured her at last,We kept her there and held her fastUntil she bought us off with lunch,Then how we ran, her hungry bunch!
One day it rained, and we all criedBecause we couldn't play outside.But mother said, “Dears, don't complain,We'll still have fun in spite of rain.”And so we fixed a big paradeWith really guns, and weren't afraid,Because we knew they wouldn't shoot.Our Dotty wore her bathing suit,While overalls we found for Jack,With Daddy's old blue fishing sack.Leroy was oldest, so he woreA scout suit from the boy next door.Then—“Left, right.” Up and down we marched.“Hurray, Hurrah,” till all our throats were parched.Storming round our mother's chair,Giving her an awful scare,“Hurray, hurrah,” up and down we marched.And when we captured her at last,We kept her there and held her fastUntil she bought us off with lunch,Then how we ran, her hungry bunch!
One day it rained, and we all criedBecause we couldn't play outside.
But mother said, “Dears, don't complain,We'll still have fun in spite of rain.”
And so we fixed a big paradeWith really guns, and weren't afraid,
Because we knew they wouldn't shoot.Our Dotty wore her bathing suit,
While overalls we found for Jack,With Daddy's old blue fishing sack.
Leroy was oldest, so he woreA scout suit from the boy next door.
Then—
“Left, right.” Up and down we marched.“Hurray, Hurrah,” till all our throats were parched.Storming round our mother's chair,Giving her an awful scare,“Hurray, hurrah,” up and down we marched.
And when we captured her at last,We kept her there and held her fast
Until she bought us off with lunch,Then how we ran, her hungry bunch!
A heartsome thing it is to lookAt evening in your studyAnd find beside your favorite bookSome apples cool and ruddy,Whose russet, yellow, brown, and redAre memories of the richness shedWhen lovely Autumn tossed her headAnd from the hilltops lightly fled.Their spicy skin, so crisp and tart,Recalls a nook where winds have beenTo flavor them with highest artBy driving dew and sunshine in,While foaming juice and luscious meatSuggest the fragrance of the rainThat flavored them with essence sweetAnd ripened them to match the grain.A heartsome thing it is to lookAt evening in your studyAnd find beside your favorite bookSome apples cool and ruddy,Whose russet, yellow, brown, and redAre memories of the richness shedWhen lovely Autumn tossed her headAnd from the hilltops lightly fled.
A heartsome thing it is to lookAt evening in your studyAnd find beside your favorite bookSome apples cool and ruddy,Whose russet, yellow, brown, and redAre memories of the richness shedWhen lovely Autumn tossed her headAnd from the hilltops lightly fled.Their spicy skin, so crisp and tart,Recalls a nook where winds have beenTo flavor them with highest artBy driving dew and sunshine in,While foaming juice and luscious meatSuggest the fragrance of the rainThat flavored them with essence sweetAnd ripened them to match the grain.A heartsome thing it is to lookAt evening in your studyAnd find beside your favorite bookSome apples cool and ruddy,Whose russet, yellow, brown, and redAre memories of the richness shedWhen lovely Autumn tossed her headAnd from the hilltops lightly fled.
A heartsome thing it is to lookAt evening in your studyAnd find beside your favorite bookSome apples cool and ruddy,Whose russet, yellow, brown, and redAre memories of the richness shedWhen lovely Autumn tossed her headAnd from the hilltops lightly fled.
Their spicy skin, so crisp and tart,Recalls a nook where winds have beenTo flavor them with highest artBy driving dew and sunshine in,While foaming juice and luscious meatSuggest the fragrance of the rainThat flavored them with essence sweetAnd ripened them to match the grain.
A heartsome thing it is to lookAt evening in your studyAnd find beside your favorite bookSome apples cool and ruddy,Whose russet, yellow, brown, and redAre memories of the richness shedWhen lovely Autumn tossed her headAnd from the hilltops lightly fled.
Quick streams of little waters flowBeneath the winter's crusty snow,And everywhere that you may go'Tis Spring, 'tis Spring you know!For bubbling till they break the snowThe little waters singing go:
Quick streams of little waters flowBeneath the winter's crusty snow,And everywhere that you may go'Tis Spring, 'tis Spring you know!For bubbling till they break the snowThe little waters singing go:
Quick streams of little waters flowBeneath the winter's crusty snow,And everywhere that you may go'Tis Spring, 'tis Spring you know!For bubbling till they break the snowThe little waters singing go:
“Come join the Company of Spring,Come robins, wrens, come all and sing.We'll make our ice-caves laugh and ring,We'll blend our torrent-song of Spring.”
“Come join the Company of Spring,Come robins, wrens, come all and sing.We'll make our ice-caves laugh and ring,We'll blend our torrent-song of Spring.”
“Come join the Company of Spring,Come robins, wrens, come all and sing.We'll make our ice-caves laugh and ring,We'll blend our torrent-song of Spring.”
The gardener trims the anxious treesAnd little twigs fly in the breeze;“Come float, come float, play you're a boat,”The waters call, “Come float.The noisy robins' earliest noteIs bursting from his tiny throat, come float.”
The gardener trims the anxious treesAnd little twigs fly in the breeze;“Come float, come float, play you're a boat,”The waters call, “Come float.The noisy robins' earliest noteIs bursting from his tiny throat, come float.”
The gardener trims the anxious treesAnd little twigs fly in the breeze;“Come float, come float, play you're a boat,”The waters call, “Come float.The noisy robins' earliest noteIs bursting from his tiny throat, come float.”
“O, join the Company of Spring,All you whose hearts are on the wing.Our winter-cares away we'll fling,And rhapsodize the living Spring.”
“O, join the Company of Spring,All you whose hearts are on the wing.Our winter-cares away we'll fling,And rhapsodize the living Spring.”
“O, join the Company of Spring,All you whose hearts are on the wing.Our winter-cares away we'll fling,And rhapsodize the living Spring.”
Transcriber's note:What appeared to be clear typographical errors were silently corrected; any other mistakes or inconsistencies were retained.
What appeared to be clear typographical errors were silently corrected; any other mistakes or inconsistencies were retained.