42

HYMN TO THE SPIRIT.

HYMN TO THE SPIRIT.

SPIRIT who crownest true temples and altars,
Spirit indicting all holiest lays,

Wake to devotion the strains of our psalters,
Breathe in our bosoms the spirit of praise.

Spirit of life, as the light of the morning,
Pour on our natures thy beauty and might;
Grant us thy thoughts for our spirit's adorning,
Be our Shekinah and Indwelling Light.

Spirit who over the Jordan's waves hovered,
Flame that imparted the Pentecost tongues,
Still be thy presence and glory discovered,

Kindling our hearts and inspiring our songs.

Comforter, come, with thy great consolation;
Light of the seers and believers of old;
Open before us the gates of salvation,
Higher and holier visions unfold.

Pillar of cloud and of fire, for our guiding

Through all the wilderness perils and gloom,

With us, as promised, be ever abiding,

Lead our weak feet to the glorified home.

COMFORTLESS.

43

TUR N

COMFORTLESS.

my face from the window, and leave me alone,

I

pray;

What have I done to merit the burden I bear to-day? Imust go, henceforth, with a shadow veiling forever

As one

my face,

should walk who carries the stain of a deep disgrace.

Lord, I have cried from the depths, but surely Thou

hast not heard,

Else would my pleading have moved Thee, else had

Thy heart been stirred;

Every night of my lifetime, down by my children's

beds,

Praved have I for a blessing on the restless boyish

heads.

Daily they stood before me, sturdy and fair to see,
Bowing their wills submissive, at even a word from

me;

Keeping, I fain would think it, it comforts me even

yet,

The purity of childhood still upon their foreheads set.

44

COMFORTLESS.

Proud I was, and yet fearful, knowing what snares lie

hid

For all but the feet that are quiet under the coffin-lid. Yet in my darkest moments I did not dream of the

way

My weary soul would be treading, anxious and bleeding, to-day.

Drunkards both! oh, my children, better if years ago You had slept in the churchyard's bosom, under the drifting snow!

Better if I had lost you, tender and pure and white, Than to shrink from your coming footsteps, as I shall shrink to-night.

Is there no help, O Father? Will not Thy children

learn

To shun the pleasures that lure them only to sting and burn?

Send down a sign, I pray Thee! show them whereon they stand;

Show them the dangers that menace, crowding on every hand!

COMFORTLESS.

45

Tell those whose hands are folded, in coldness or in

disdain,

That their work is never ended while life and strength

remain.

Saving their own is something; but what can they do

Going

for the rest,

so fast to destruction, our brightest, and once Our best?

Tell them the day is coming, some time, or soon or

late,

When their hands will witness against them, red with

their brothers' fate;

Give them a sign, O Father! show them the sin, I

pray,

That they may search in the highways for those who

have gone astray.

M. W. P.

46

WHAT OF THAT?

WHAT OF THAT?

Tired! Well, what of that?

Didst fancy life was spent on beds of ease, Fluttering the rose leaves scattered by the breeze? Come, rouse thee! work while it is called to-day! Coward, arise! go forth upon thy way!

Lonely! And what of that?

Some must be lonely! 'tis not given to all
To feel a heart responsive rise and fall,
To blend another life into its own.

Work may be done in loneliness. Work on!

Dark! Well, and what of that?

Didst fondly dream the sun would never set?
Dost fear to lose thy way? Take courage yet!
Learn thou to walk by faith and not by sight;
Thy steps will guided be, and guided right.

Hard! Well, what of that?

Didst fancy life one summer holiday,

With lessons none to learn, and naught but play?
Go, get thee to thy task! Conquer or die!

It must be learned! Learn it, then, patiently.