The Enchiridion

J.G.Whittier: Poems used as Hymns

(with particular reference to hymns in
W.Garrett Horder's Worship Song 1905 &c.)
~~~~~~~~~

John Greenleaf Whittier: some of his hymns, or poems used as hymns.

~~~~~~~~~

The original poems are shown here in full, transcribed from an 1894 (posthumous) edition of Whittier's Complete Works (London, Frederick Warne & Co.). Hymn-book versions - all except "O brother man" - are taken from Worship-Song 1905, cento verses being shown in bold, with the rest of Whittier's text in normal type.

_._._._._._._._._._._._._

The following occur as hymns in Worship-Song 1905 ("WoSo" throughout this page).. These are the first lines as in WoSo; several of the hymns are centos from longer poems with a different first line.

One of Whittier's better-known hymns - O brother man, fold to thy heart - was not in WoSo, but was included in the Fellowship Hymn Book 1909. This also is a cento from a longer poem.  

Other Whittier hymns in current use (c. 1980-2000) are dealt with in full in the `Hymnoptikon' section of the Enchiridion (not at present on this Web site), and are not included in this file.

  • All as God wills, who wisely heeds
  • Dear Lord amd Father of mankind
  • Immortal love, for ever full
_._._._._._._._._._._._._

All things are Thine: no gift have we

HYMN

For the opening of Plymouth Church, St Paul, Minnesota in 1873

[ Worship-Song 1905 No.744 (1898 edn No.750); also (omitting v.3) CCH-612, EH-173, and (altd) CoH-643, RCH-254, SP-104, SPE-189, AHB-658, 3CH-610 ]

1
All things are Thine: no gift have we,
Lord of all gifts! to offer Thee;
And hence with grateful hearts to-day,
Thy own before Thy feet we lay.
 
2
Thy will was in the builders' thought;
Thy hand unseen amidst us wrought;
Through mortal motive, scheme and plan,
Thy wise eternal purpose ran.
 
3
No lack Thy perfect fulness knew;
From human needs and longings grew
This house of prayer, this home of rest
In the fair garden of the West.
 
4
In weakness and in want we call
On Thee for whom the heavens are small;
Thy glory is Thy children's good,
Thy joy Thy tender Fatherhood.
 
5
O Father! deign these walls to bless;
Fill with Thy love their emptiness:
And let their door a gateway be
To lead us from ourselves to Thee!
 _._._._._._._._._._._._._

Another hand is beckoning us

GONE

 [ vv. 1, 12, 13 & 14 in Worship-Song 1905 No.739 (1898 edn No.828) with optional `(him)'/`(his)' for `(her)' throughout ]

 

1
Another hand is beckoning us,
   Another call is given;
And glows once more with angel-steps
   The path that reaches heaven.
 
2
Our young and gentle friend, whose smile
   Made brighter summer hours,
Amid the frosts of autumn time
   Has left us with the flowers.
 
3
No paling of the cheek of bloom
   Forewarned us of decay;
No shadow from the Silent Land
   Fell round our sister's way.
 
4
The light of her young life went down,
   As sinks behind the hill
The glory of a setting star, --
   Clear, suddenly, and still.
 
5
As pure and sweet, her fair brow seemed
   Eternal as the sky;
And like the brook's low song, her voice, --
   A sound which could not die.
 
6
And half we deemed she needed not
   The changing of her sphere,
To give to Heaven a Shining One,
   Who walked an Angel here.
 
7
The blessing of her quiet life
   Fell on us like the dew;
And good thoughts, where her footsteps pressed,
   Like fairy blossoms grew.
 
8
Sweet promptings unto kindest deeds
   Were in her very look;
We read her face, as one who reads
   A true and holy book:
 
9
The measure of a blessed hymn,
   To which our hearts could move;
The breathing of an inward psalm;
   A canticle of love.
 
10
We miss her in the place of prayer,
   And by the hearth-fire's light;
We pause beside her door to hear
   Once more her sweet "Good-night!"
 
11
There seems a shadow on the day
   Her smile no longer cheers;
A dimness on the stars of night,
   Like eyes that look through tears.
 
12
Alone unto our Father's will
   One thought hath reconciled;
That He whose love exceedeth ours
   Hath taken home His child.
 
13
Fold her, O Father! in Thine arms,
   And let her henceforth be
A messenger of love between
   Our human hearts and Thee.
 
14
Still let her mild rebuking stand
   Betwen us and the wrong,
And her dear memory serve to make
   Our faith in goodness strong.
 
15
And grant that she who, trembling, here
   Distrusted all her powers,
May welcome to her holier home
   The well-beloved of ours.
_._._._._._._._._._._._._

Bowed down in lowliness of mind

THE WISH OF TODAY

[vv.3 (altd), 4, 5 (altd), 6-8: Worship-Song 1905 No.320 (1898 edn No.1076)]

1
I ask not now for gold to gild
   With mocking shine a weary frame;
The yearning of the mind is stilled, --
   I ask not now for Fame.
 
2
A rose-cloud, dimly seen above,
   Melting in heaven's blue depths away, --
Oh, sweet fond dream of human Love!
   For thee I may not pray.
 
3
But, bowed in lowliness of mind,
   I make my humble wishes known;
I only ask a will resigned,
   O Father, to Thine own!
 
[ line 1, WoSo: Bowed down in ... ]
 
4
To-day, beneath Thy chastening eye,
   I crave alone for peace and rest,
Submissive in Thy hand to lie,
   And feel that it is best.
 
5
A marvel seems the Universe,
   A miracle our Life and Death,
A mystery which I cannot pierce,
   Around, above, beneath.
 
[ line 3, WoSo: A mystery I cannot pierce, ]
 
6
In vain I task my aching brain,
   In vain the sage's thought I scan;
I only feel how weak and vain,
   How poor and blind, is man.
 
7
And now my spirit sighs for home,
   And longs for light whereby to see,
And, like a weary child, would come,
   O Father, unto Thee!
 
8
Though oft, like letters traced on sand,
   My weak resolves have passed away,
In mercy lend Thy helping hand
   Unto my prayer to-day!
 _._._._._._._._._._._._._

For ever round the Mercy-seat

THE ANSWER

[vv.14 (altd), 15-17: Worship-Song 1905 No.494 (1898 edn No.1108)]

1
Spare me, dread angel of reproof,
   And let the sunshine weave today
Its gold threads in the warp and woof
   Of life so poor and gray.
 
2
Spare me awhile; the flesh is weak.
   These lingering feet, that fain would stray
Among the flowers, shall some day seek
   The straight and narrow way.
 
3
Take off thy ever-watchful eye,
   The awe of thy rebuking frown;
The dullest slave at times must sigh
   To fling his burdens down;
 
4
To drop his galley's straining oar,
   And press, in summer warmth and calm,
The lap of some enchanted shore
   Of blossom and of balm.
 
5
Grudge not my life its hour of bloom,
   My heart its taste of long desire;
This day be mine: be those to come
   As duty shall require.
 
6
The deep voice answered to my own,
   Smiting my selfish prayers away;
"Tomorrow is with God alone,
   And man hath but to-day.
 
7
"Say not, thy fond, vain heart within,
   The Father's arm shall still be wide,
When from these pleasant ways of sin
   Thou turn'st at eventide.
 
8
"`Cast thyself down,' the tempter saith,
`And angels shall thy feet upbear.'
He bids thee make a lie of faith,
   And blasphemy of prayer.
 
9
"Though God be good and free be heaven,
   No force divine can love compel;
And though the song of sins forgiven
   May sound through lowest hell,
 
10
"The sweet persuasion of His voice
   Respects thy sanctity of will.
He giveth day; thou hast thy choice
   To walk in darkness still;
 
11
"As one who, turning from the light,
   Watches his own grey shadow fall,
Doubting, upon his path of night,
   If there be day at all!
 
12
"No word of doom may shut thee out,
   No wind of wrath may downward whirl,
No swords of fire keep watch about
   The open gates of pearl;
 
13
"A tenderer light than moon or sun,
   Than song of earth a sweeter hymn,
May shine and sound for ever on,
   And thou be deaf and dim.
 
14
For ever round the Mercy-seat
   The guiding lights of Love shall burn;
But what if, habit-bound, thy feet
   Shall lack the will to turn?
 
[ line 2, WoSo:
   The lights of Love shall quenchless burn ]
 
15
What if thine eye refuse to see,
   Thine ear of Heaven's free welcome fail,
And thou a willing captive be,
   Thyself thy own dark jail?
 
16
Oh, doom beyond the saddest guess,
   As the long years of God unroll,
To make thy dreary selfishness
   The prison of a soul!
 
17
To doubt the Love that fain would break
   The fetters from thy self-bound limb,
And dream that God can thee forsake
   As thou forsakest Him!
_._._._._._._._._._._._._

Lord, for the things we see

MY TRIUMPH

[vv.3b, 3a, 4, 10-13, 15 & 18, altd in Worship-Song 1905 No.803; Whittier's `I'/`my' is replaced in WoSo by `we'/`our' throughout. Set in WoSo to an 8-line tune, the words printed in 4 x 8-line verses accordingly.]

1
The autumn time has come;
On woods that dream of bloom,
And over purpling vines,
The low sun fainter shines.
 
2
The aster-flower is failing,
The hazel's gold is paling;
Yet overhead more near
The eternal stars appear!
 
3
And present gratitude
Insures the future's good,
And for the things I see
I trust the things to be;
 
[ WoSo inverts the first and 2nd couplet of v.3 for the first quatrain of its cento, beginning
 Lord, for the things we see
We trust ... &c. ]
 
4
So in the paths untrod
And the long days of God,
Our feet shall still be led,
Our hearts be comforted.
 

[ line 1, WoSo: That in the paths ... ]

 
5
O living friends who love me!
O dear ones gone above me!
Careless of other fame,
I leave to you my name.
 
6
Hide it from idle praises,
Save it from evil phrases;
Why, when dear lips that spake it
Are dumb, should strangers wake it?
 
7
Let the thick curtain fall;
I better know than all
How little I have gained,
How vast the unattained.
 
8
Not by the page word-painted
Let life be banned or sainted;
Deeper than written scroll
The colours of the soul.
 
9
Sweeter than any sung
My songs that found no tongue;
Nobler than any fact
My wish that failed of act.
 
10
Others shall sing the song,
Others shall right the wrong, --
Finish what I begin,
And all I fail of win.
 
11
What matter, I or they?
Mine or another's day,
So the right word be said
And life the sweeter made?
 
12
Hail to the coming singers!
Hail to the brave light-bringers!
Forward I reach and share
All that they sing and dare.
 
[ line 4: WoSo: ... sing or dare ]
 
13
The airs of heaven blow o'er me;
A glory shines before me
Of what mankind shall be, --
Pure, generous, brave, and free.
 
14
A dream of man and woman
Diviner, but still human,
Solving the riddle old,
Shaping the Age of Gold!
 
15
The love of God and neighbour;
An equal-handed labour;
The richer life where beauty
Walks hand in hand with duty.
 
16
Ring, bells in unreared steeples,
The joy of unborn peoples!
Sound, trumpets far off blown,
Your triumph is my own!
 
17
Parcel and part of all,
I keep the festival,
Fore-reach the good to be,
And share the victory.
 
18
I feel the earth move sunward,
I join the great march onward,
And take, by faith, while living,
My freehold of thanksgiving.
 _._._._._._._._._._._._._

O hearts of love! O souls that turn

THE OVER-HEART
"For of Him, and through Him, and to Him are all things,
to whom be glory for ever!" -- PAUL.

[ vv. 6 & 12: Worship-Song 1905 No.79 (1898 edn No.1032) ]

1
Above, below, in sky and sod,
   In leaf and spar, in star and man,
   Well might the wise Athenian scan
The geometric signs of God,
   The measured order of His plan.
 
2
And India's mystics sang aright
   Of the One Life pervading all, --
   One being's tidal rise and fall
In soul and form, in sound and sight, --
   Eternal outflow and recall.
 
3
God is: and man in guilt and fear
   The central fact of Nature owns; --
   Kneels, trembling, by his altar-stones,
And darkly dreams the ghastly smear
   Of blood appeases and atones.
 
4
Guilt shapes the Terror; deep within
   The human heart the secret lies
   Of all the hideous deities;
And, painted on a ground of sin,
   The fabled gods of torment rise!
 
5
And what is He? -- The ripe grain nods,
   The sweet dews fall, the sweet flowers blow;
   But darker signs His presence show:
The earthquake and the storm are God's,
   And good and evil interflow.
 
6
O hearts of love! O souls that turn
   Like sunflowers to the pure and best!
   To you the truth is manifest;
For they the word of Christ discern
   Who lean, like John, upon His breast!
 
7
In Him of whom the sibyl told,
   For whom the prophet's harp was toned,
   Whose need the sage and magian owned,
The loving heart of God behold,
   The hope for which the ages groaned!
 
8
Fade, pomp of dreadful imagery
   Wherewith mankind have deified
   Their hate, and selfishness, and pride!
Let the scared dreamer wake to see
   The Christ of Nazareth at his side!
 
9
What doth that holy Guide require? --
   No rite of pain, nor gift of blood,
   But man a kindly brotherhood,
Looking, where duty is desire,
   To Him, the beautiful and good.
 
10
Gone be the faithlessness of fear,
   And let the pitying heaven's sweet rain
   Wash out the altar's bloody stain;
The law of Hatred disappear,
   The law of Love alone remain.
 
11
How fall the idols false and grim! --
   And lo! their hideous wreck above
   The emblems of the Lamb and Dove!
Man turns from God, not God from him;
   And guilt, in suffering, whispers Love!
 
12
The world sits at the feet of Christ,
   Unknowing, blind, and unconsoled;
   It yet shall touch His garment's fold,
And feel the heavenly Alchemist
   Transform its very dust to gold.
 
13
The theme befitting angel tongues
   Beyond a mortal's scope has grown.
   O heart of mine, with reverence own
The fulness which to it belongs,
   And trust the unknown for the known.
_._._._._._._._._._._._._

O Love Divine! -- whose constant beam

THE SHADOW AND THE LIGHT

[ vv.18-20, 22 & 24, altd in Worship-Song 1905 No.153 (1898 edn No.1037); line 4 of each v. adapted (? by Garrett Horder? ) from iambic pentameter to iambic tetrameter, to make a regular Long Metre hymn ]

"And I sought, whence is Evil; I set before the eye of my spirit the whole creation; whatsoever we see therein, -- sea, earth, air, stars, trees, moral creatures, -- yea, whatsoever there is we do not see, -- angels and spiritual powers. Where is evil, and whence comes it, since God the Good hath created all things? Why made He anything at all of evil, and not rather by His Almightiness cause it not to be? These thoughts I turned in my miserable heart, overcharged with most gnawing cares." "And, admonished to return to myself, I entered even into my inmost soul, Thou being my guide, and beheld even beyond my soul and mind the Light unchangeable. He who knows the Truth knows what that Light is, and he that knows it knows Eternity! O Truth, who art Eternity! Love, who art Truth! Eternity, who art Love! And I beheld that Thou madest all things good, and to Thee is nothing whatsoever evil. From the angel to the worm, from the first motion to the last, Thou settest each in its place and everything is good in its kind. Woe is me! -- how high art Thou in the highest, how deep in the deepest! and Thou never departest from us and we scarcely return to Thee."

AUGUSTINE's Soliloquies, Book VII.

1
   The fourteen centuries fall away
      Between us and the Afric Saint,
   And at his side we urge, today,
The immemorial quest and old complaint.
 
2
   No outward sigh to us is given, --
      From sea or earth comes no reply;
   Hushed as the warm Numidian heaven
He vainly questioned bends our frozen sky.
 
3
   No victory comes of all our strife, --
      From all we grasp the meaning slips;
   The Sphinx sits at the gate of life,
With the old question on her awful lips,
 
4
   In paths unknown we hear the feet
      Of fear before, and guilt behind;
   We pluck the wayside fruit, and eat
Ashes and dust beneath its golden rind.
 
5
   From age to age descends unchecked
      The sad bequest of sire to son,
   The body's taint, the mind's defect, --
Through every web of life the dark threads run.
 
6
   Oh, why and whither! -- God knows all;
      I only know that He is good,
   And that whatever may befall
Or here or there, must be the best that could.
 
7
   Between the dreadful cherubim
      A Father's face I still discern,
   As Moses looked of old on Him
And saw His glory into goodness turn!
 
8
   For He is merciful as just;
      And so, by faith correcting sight,
   I bow before His will, and trust
Howe'er they seem He doeth all things right,
 
9
   And dare to hope that He will make
      The rugged smooth, the doubtful plain;
   His mercy never quite forsake;
His healing visit every realm of pain;
 
10
   That suffering is not His revenge
      Upon His creatures weak and frail,
   Sent on a pathway new and strange
With feet that wander and with eyes that fail;
 
11
   That, o'er the crucible of pain,
      Watches the tender eye of Love,
   The slow transmuting of the chain
Whose links are iron below to gold above!
 
12
   Ah me! we doubt the shining skies,
      Seen through our shadows of offence,
   And drown with our poor childish cries
The cradle-hymn of kindly Providence.
 
13
   And still we love the evil cause,
      And of the just effect complain:
   We tread upon life's broken laws,
And murmur at our self-inflicted pain;
 
14
   We turn as from the light, and find
      Our spectral shapes before us thrown,
   As they who leave the sun behind
Walk in the shadows of themselves alone.
 
15
   And scarce by will or strength of ours
      We set our faces to the day;
   Weak, wavering, blind, the Eternal Powers
Alone can turn us from ourselves away.
 
16
   Our weakness is the strength of sin,
      But love must needs be stronger far,
   Outstretching all and gathering in
The erring spirit and the wandering star.
 
17
   A Voice grows with the growing years;
      Earth, hushing down her bitter cry,
   Looks upwards from her graves, and hears,
"The Resurrection and the Life am I".
 
18
   O Love Divine! -- whose constant beam
      Shines on the eyes that will not see,
   And waits to bless us, while we dream
Thou leavest us because we turn from Thee!
 
[ line 4, WoSo: Thou leav'st us when we turn from Thee! ]
 
19
   All souls that struggle and aspire,
      All hearts of prayer by Thee are lit;
   And, dim or clear, Thy tongues of fire
On dusky tribes, and twilight centuries sit.
 
[ line 4, WoSo: On dusky tribes, and centuries sit. ]
 
20
   Nor bounds, nor clime, nor creed Thou know'st,
      Wide as our need Thy favours fall;
   The white wings of the Holy Ghost
Stoop seen or unseen o'er the heads of all.
 
[ line 4, WoSo: Stoop unseen o'er the heads of all. ]
 
21
   O Beauty, old yet ever new!    [ Note 1* ]
      Eternal Voice, and Inward Word,
   The Logos of the Greek and Jew,
The old sphere-music which the Samian heard!
 
22
   Truth which the sage and prophet saw,
      Long sought without, but found within,
   The Law of Love beyond all law,
The life o'erflooding mortal death and sin!
 
[ line 4, WoSo: The life o'erflooding death and sin! ]
 
23
   Shine on us with the light which glowed
      Upon the trance-bound shepherd's way,
   Who saw the darkness overflowed
And drowned by tides of everlasting Day. [ Note 2** ]
 
24
   Shine, Light of God! -- make broad Thy scope,
      To all who sin and suffer; more
   And better than we dare to hope
With Heaven's compassion make our longings poor!
 
[ line 4, WoSo: Make with Thy love our longings poor. ]
_._._._._._._._._._._._._

O Painter of the fruits and flowers

HYMN

(For the American Horticultural Society.)

1882.

[Worship-Song 1905 No.647 (1898 edn No.634) (vv.1 & 2 altd; and some punctuation)]

1
O Painter of the fruits and flowers,
   We own Thy wise design,
Whereby these human hands of ours
   May share the work of Thine!
 
[ line 4, WoSo: . . . the works . . . ]
 
2
Apart from Thee we plant in vain
   The root, and sow the seed;
Thy early and Thy later rain,
   Thy sun and dew we need.
 
[ line 3, WoSo: . . . latter rain ]
 
3
Our toil is sweet with thankfulness,
   Our burden is our boon;
The curse of Earth's grey morning is
   The blessing of its noon.
 
4
Why search the wide world everywhere,
   For Eden's unknown ground? --
That garden of the primal pair
   May nevermore be found.
 
5
But, blest by Thee, our patient toil
   May right the ancient wrong,
And give to every clime and soil
   The beauty lost so long.
 
6
Our homestead flowers, and fruited trees,
   May Eden's orchard shame;
We taste the tempting sweets of these,
   Like Eve, without her blame.
 
7
And, North and South and East and West
   The pride of every zone,
The fairest, rarest, and the best
   May all be made our own.
 
8
Its earliest shrines the young world sought
   In hill-groves, and in bowers,
The fittest offerings thither brought
   Were Thine own fruits and flowers.
 
9
And still with reverent hands we cull
   Thy gifts each year renewed;
The good is always beautiful,
   The beautiful is good.
_._._._._._._._._._._._._

Oh, sometimes gleams upon our sight

THE CHAPEL OF THE HERMITS 

[ vv.11, 12, 17, 18 & 94, altd in Worship-Song 1905 No.353 (1898 edn No.1083) ]

1
"I do believe, and yet, in grief,
I pray for help to unbelief;
For needful strength aside to lay
The daily cumberings of my way.
 
2
"I'm sick at heart of craft and cant,
Sick of the crazed enthusiast's rant,
Profession's smooth hypocrisies,
And creeds of iron, and lives of ease.
 
3
"I ponder o'er the sacred word,
I read the record of our Lord;
And, weak and troubled, envy them
Who touched His seamless garment's hem: --
 
4
"Who saw the tears of love He wept
Above the grave where Lazarus slept;
And heard, amidst the shadows dim
Of Olivet, His evening hymn.
 
5
"How blessed the swineherd's low estate,
The beggar crouching at the gate,
The leper loathly and abhorred,
Whose eyes of flesh beheld the Lord!
 
6
"O sacred soil His sandals pressed!
Sweet fountains of His noonday rest!
O light and air of Palestine,
Impregnate with His life divine!
 
7
"Oh, bear me thither! Let me look
On Siloah's pool and Kedron's brook, --
Kneel at Gethsemane, and by
Gennesaret walk, before I die!
 
8
"Methinks this cold and northern night
Would melt before that Orient light;
And, wet by Hermon's dew and rain,
My childhood's faith revive again!"
 
9
So spake my friend, one autumn day,
Where the still river slid away
Beneath us, and above the brown
Red curtains of the woods shut down.
 
10
Then said I, -- for I could not brook
The mute appealing of his look, --
"I, too, am weak, and faith is small,
And blindness happeneth unto all,
 
11
"Yet, sometimes glimpses on my sight,
Through present wrong, the eternal right,
And, step by step, since time began,
I see the steady gain of man!
 
[ WoSo, line 1:
Oh, sometimes gleams upon our sight,
line 4: We see . . . ]
 
12
"That all of good the past hath had
Remains to make our own time glad, --
Our common daily life divine,
And every land a Palestine.
 
[ line 1, WoSo: ... has had ]
 
13
"Thou weariest of thy present state;
What gain to thee time's holiest date?
The doubter now perchance had been
As High Priest or as Pilate then!
 
14
"What thought Chorazin's scribes? What faith
In Him had Nain and Nazareth?
Of the few followers whom He led
One sold Him, -- all forsook and fled.
 
15
"O friend! we need not rock nor sand,
Nor storied stream of Morning-Land;
The heavens are glassed in Merrimack, --
What more could Jordan render back?
 
16
"We lack but open eye and ear
To find the Orient's marvels here; --
The still small voice in autumn's hush,
Yon maple wood the burning bush.
 
17
"For still the new transcends the old,
In signs and tokens manifold; --
Slaves rise up men; the olive waves,
With roots deep set in battle graves!
 
18
"Through the harsh noises of our day,
A low, sweet prelude finds its way;
Through clouds of doubt, and creeds of fear
A light is breaking, calm and clear.
 
19
"That song of Love, now low and far,
Ere long shall swell from star to star!
That light, the breaking day, which tips
The golden-spired Apocalypse!"
 
20
Then, when my good friend shook his head,
And, sighing, sadly smiled, I said:
"Thou mind'st me of a story told [ Note 1* ]
In rare Bernardin's leaves of gold."
 
21
And while the slanted sunbeams wove
The shadows of the frost-stained grove,
And, picturing all, the river ran
O'er cloud and wood, I thus began:
 
~~~~~~~~
 
22
In Mount Valerien's Chestnut wood
The Chapel of the Hermits stood;
And thither, at the close of day,
Came two old pilgrims, worn and gray.
 
23
One, whose impetuous youth defied
The storms of Baikal's wintry side,
And mused and dreamed where tropic day
Flamed o'er his lost Virginia's bay
 
24
His simple tale of love and woe
All hearts had melted, high or low: --
A blissful pain, a sweet distress,
Immortal in its tenderness.
 
25
Yet, while above his charmŠd page
Beat quick the young heart of his age,
He walked amidst the crowd unknown,
A sorrowing old man, strange and lone.
 
26
A homeless, troubled age, -- the gray
Pale setting of a weary day;
Too dull his ear for voice of praise,
Too sadly worn his brow for bays.
 
27
Pride, lust of power and glory, slept;
Yet still his heart its young dream kept,
And, wandering like the deluge-dove,
Still sought the resting-place of love.
 
28
And, mateless, childless, envied more
The peasant's welcome from his door
By smiling eyes at eventide,
Than kingly gifts or lettered pride.
 
29
Until, in place of wife or child,
All-pitying Nature on him smiled,
And gave to him the golden keys
To all her inmost sanctities.
 
30
Mild Druid of her wood-paths dim!
She laid her great heart bare to him,
Its loves and sweet accords; -- he saw
The beauty of her perfect law.
 
31
The language of her signs he knew,
What notes her cloudy clarion blew;
The rhythm of autumn's forest dyes,
The hymn of sunset's painted skies.
 
32
And thus he seemed to hear the song
Which swept, of old, the stars along;
And to his eyes the earth once more
Its fresh and primal beauty wore.
 
33
Who sought with him, from summer air,
And field and wood, a balm for care;
And bathed in light of sunset skies
His tortured nerves and weary eyes?
 
34
His fame on all the winds had flown;
His words had shaken crypt and throne;
Like fire, on camp and court and cell
They dropped, and kindled as they fell.
 
35
Beneath the pomps of state, below
The mitred juggler's masque and show,
A prophecy -- a vague hope -- ran
His burning thought from man to man.
 
36
For peace or rest too well he saw
The fraud of priests, the wrong of law,
And felt how hard, between the two,
Their breath of pain the millions drew.
 
37
A prophet-utterance, strong and wild,
The weakness of an unweaned child,
A sun-bright hope for human-kind,
And self-despair, in him combined.
 
38
He loathed the false, yet lived not true
To half the glorious truths he knew;
The doubt, the discord, and the sin,
He mourned without, he felt within.
 
39
Untrod by him the path he showed,
Sweet pictures on his easel glowed
Of simple faith, and loves of home,
And virtue's golden days to come.
 
40
But weakness, shame, and folly made
The foil to all his pen portrayed;
Still, where his dreamy splendours shone
The shadow of himself was thrown.
 
41
Lord, what is man, whose thought, at times,
Up to Thy sevenfold brightness climbs,
While still his grosser instinct clings
To earth, like other creeping things!
 
42
So rich in words, in acts so mean;
So high, so low; chance-swung between
The foulness of the penal pit
And Truth's clear sky, millennium-lit!
 
43
Vain pride of star-lent genius! vain
Quick fancy and creative brain,
Unblest by prayerful sacrifice,
Absurdly great, or weakly wise!
 
44
Midst yearnings for a truer life,
Without were fears, within was strife;
And still his wayward act denied
The perfect good for which he sighed.
 
45
The love he sent forth void returned;
The fame that crowned him scorched and burned,
Burning, yet cold and drear and lone, --
A fire-mount in a frozen zone!
 
46
Like that the grey-haired sea-king passed, [ Note 2** ]
Seen southward from his sleety mast,
About whose brows of changeless frost
A wreath of flame the wild winds tossed.
 
47
Far round the mournful beauty played
Of lambent light and purple shade,
Lost on the fixed and dumb despair
Of frozen earth and sea and air!
 
48
A man apart, unknown, unloved
By those whose wrongs his soul had moved,
He bore the ban of Church and State,
The good man's fear, the bigot's hate!
 
49
Forth from the city's noise and throng,
Its pomp and shame, its sin and wrong,
The twain that summer day had strayed
To Mount Valerien's chestnut shade.
 
50
To them the green fields and the wood
Lent something of their quietude,
And golden-tinted sunset seemed
Prophetical of all they dreamed.
 
51
The hermits from their simple cares
The bell was calling home to prayers,
And, listening to its sound, the twain
Seemed lapped in childhood's trust again.
 
52
While open stood the chapel door;
A sweet old music, swelling o'er
Low prayerful murmurs, issued thence, --
The Litanies of Providence!
 
53
Then Rousseau spake: "Where two or three
In His name meet, He there will be!"
And then, in silence, on their knees
They sank beneath the chestnut trees.
 
54
As to the blind returning light,
As daybreak to the Arctic night,
Old faith revived; the doubts of years
Dissolved in reverential tears.
 
55
That gush of feeling overpast,
"Ah me!!" Bernardin sighed at last,
"I would thy bitterest foes could see
Thy heart as it is seen of me!
 
56
"No church of God hast thou denied;
Thou hast but spurned in scorn aside
A base and hollow counterfeit,
Profaning the pure name of it!
 
57
"With dry dead moss and marish weeds
His fire the western herdsman feeds,
And greener from the ashen plain
The sweet spring grasses rise again.
 
58
"Nor thunder-peal nor mighty wind
Disturb the solid sky behind;
And through the cloud the red bolt rends
The calm, still smile of heaven descends!
 
59
"Thus through the world, like bolt and blast,
And scourging fire, thy words have passed,
Clouds break, -- the steadfast heavens remain;
Weeds burn, -- the ashes feed the grain!
 
60
"But whoso strives with wrong may find
Its touch pollute, its darkness blind;
And learn, as latent fraud is shown
In others' faith, to doubt his own.
 
61
"With dream and falsehood, simple trust
And pious hope we tread in dust;
Lost the calm faith in goodness, -- lost
The baptism of Pentecost!
 
62
"Alas! -- the blows for error meant
Too oft on truth itself are spent,
As through the false and vile and base
Looks forth her sad, rebuking face.
 
63
"Not ours the Theban's charmèd life;
We come not scatheless from the strife!
The Python's coil about us clings,
The trampled Hydra bites and stings!
 
64
"Meanwhile, the sport of seeming chance,
The plastic shapes of circumstance,
What might have been we fondly guess,
If earlier born, or tempted less.
 
65
"And thou, in these wild, troubled days,
Misjudged alike in blame and praise,
Unsought and undeserved the same
The sceptic's praise, the bigot's blame; --
 
66
"I cannot doubt, if thou hadst been
Among the highly-favoured men
Who walked on earth with F‚n‚lon
He would have owned thee as his son;
 
67
"And, bright with wings of cherubim
Visibly waving over him,
Seen through his life, the Church had seemed
All that its old confessors dreamed."
 
68
"I would have been," Jean Jacques replied,
"The humblest servant at his side,
Obscure, unknown, content to see
How beautiful man's life may be!
 
69
"Oh, more than thrice-blest relic, more
Than solemn rite or sacred lore,
The holy life of one who trod
The footmarks of the Christ of God!
 
70
"Amidst a blinded world he saw
The oneness of the Dual law;
That Heaven's sweet peace on earth began
And God was loved through love of man.
 
71
"He lived the Truth which reconciled
The strong man Reason, Faith the child;
In him belief and act were one,
The homilies of duty done!"
 
72
"So speaking, through the twilight gray
The two old pilgrims went their way,
What seeds of life that day were sown,
The heavenly watchers knew alone.
 
73
Time passed, and autumn came to fold
Green Summer in her brown and gold;
Time passed, and Winter's tears of snow
Dropped on the grave-mound of Rousseau.
 
74
"The tree remaineth where it fell,
The pained on earth is pained in hell!"
So priestcraft from its altars cursed
The mournful doubts its falsehood nursed.
 
75
Ah! well of old the Psalmist prayed,
"Thy hand, not man's, on me be laid!"
Earth frowns below, Heaven weeps above,
And man is hate, but God is love!
 
76
No Hermits now the wanderer sees,
Nor chapel with its chestnut trees;
A morning dream, a tale that's told,
The wave of change o'er all has rolled.
 
77
Yet lives the lesson of that day;
And from its twilight cool and gray
Comes up a low, sad whisper, "Make
The truth thine own, for truth's own sake.
 
78
"Why wait to see in thy brief span
Its perfect flower and fruit in man?
No saintly touch can save; no balm
Of healing hath the martyr's palm.
 
79
"Midst soulless forms, and false pretence
Of spiritual pride and pampered sense,
A voice saith, `What is that to thee?
Be true thyself, and follow Me!'
 
80
"In days when throne and altar heard
The wanton's wish, the bigot's word,
And pomp of State and ritual show
Scarce hid the loathsome death below, --
 
81
"Midst fawning priests and courtiers foul,
The losel swarm of crown and cowl,
White-robed walked Fran‡ois F‚n‚lon,
Stainless as Uriel in the sun!
 
82
"Yet in his time the stake blazed red,
The poor were eaten up like bread;
Men knew him not; his garment's hem
No healing virtue had for them.
 
83
"Alas! no present saint we find;
The white cymar gleams far behind,
Revealed in outline vague, sublime,
Through telescopic mists of time!
 
84
"Trust not in man with passing breath,
But in the Lord, old Scripture saith;
The truth which saves thou mayst not blend
With false professor, faithless friend.
 
85
"Search thine own heart. What paineth thee
In others in thyself may be;
All dust is frail, all flesh is weak;
Be thou the true man thou dost seek!
 
86
"Where now with pain thou treadest, trod
The whitest of the saints of God!
To show thee where their feet were set,
The light which led them shineth yet.
 
87
"The footprints of the life divine,
Which marked their path, remain in thine;
And that great Life, transfused in theirs,
Awaits thy faith, thy love, thy prayers!"
 
88
A lesson which I well may heed,
A word of fitness to my need;
So from that twilight cool and gray
Still saith a voice, or seems to say.
 
89
We rose, and slowly homeward turned,
While down the west the sunset burned;
And, in its light, hill, wood, and tide,
And human forms seemed glorified.
 
90
The village homes transfigured stood,
And purple bluffs, whose belting wood
Across the waters leaned to hold
The yellow leaves like lamps of gold.
 
91
Then spake my friend: "Thy words are true;
For ever old, for ever new,
These home-seen splendours are the same
Which over Eden's sunsets came.
 
92
"To these bowed heavens let wood and hill
Lift voiceless praise and anthem still;
Fall, warm with blessing, over them,
Light of the New Jerusalem!
 
93
"Flow on, sweet river, like the stream
Of John's Apocalyptic dream!
This mapled ridge shall Horeb be,
Yon green-banked lake our Galilee!
 
94
Henceforth my heart shall sigh no more
For olden time and holier shore;
God's love and blessing, then and there,
Are now and here and everywhere.
~~~~~~~~~~~
[ * Note 1: stanza 20:
"Thou mind'st me of a story told
In rare Bernardin's leaves of gold." ]

The incident here referred to is related in a note to Bernardin Henri Saint Pierre's Etudes de la Nature. 

"We arrived at the habitation of the hermits a little before they sat down to their table, and while they were still at church. J.J.Rousseau proposed to me to offer up our devotions. The hermits were reciting the Litanies of Providence, which are remarkably beautiful. After we had addressed our prayers to God, and the hermits were proceeding to the refectory, Rousseau said to me, with his heart overflowing, `At this moment I experience what is said in the gospel: Where two are three are gathered together in My name, there am I in the midst of them. There is here a feeling of peace and happiness which penetrates the soul'. I said, `If F‚n‚lon had lived, you would have been a Catholic'. He exclaimed, with tears in his eyes, `Oh, if Fénélon were alive, I would struggle to get into his service, even as a lackey!'."

In my sketch of Saint Pierre it will be seen that I have somewhat antedated the period of his old age. At that time he was probably not more than fifty. In describing him I have by no means exaggerated his own history of his mental condition at the period of the story. In the fragmentary sequel to his Studies of Nature, he thus speaks of himself:

"The ingratitude of those of whom I had deserved kindness, unexpected family misfortunes, the total loss of my small patrimony through enterprises solely undertaken for the benefit of my country, the debts under which I lay oppressed, the blasting of all my hopes, -- these combined calamities made dreadful inroads upon my health and reason ... . I found it impossible to continue in a room where there was company, especially if the doors were shut. I could not even cross an alley in a public garden, if several persons had got together in it. When alone, my malady subsided. I felt myself likewise at ease in places where I saw children only. At the sight of anyone walking up to the place where I was, I felt my whole frame agitated, and retired. I often said to myself, `My sole study has been to merit well of mankind; why do I fear them?'".

He attributes his improved health of mind and body to the counsels of his friend J.J.Rousseau.

"I renounced", says he, "my books. I threw my eyes upon the works of nature, which spake to all my senses a language which neither time nor nations have it in their power to alter. Thenceforth my histories and my journals were the herbage of the fields and meadows. My thoughts did not go forth painfully after them, as in the case of human systems; but their thoughts, under a thousand engaging forms, quietly sought me. In these I have studied, without effort, the laws of that Universal Wisdom which had surrounded me from the cradle, but on which heretofore I had bestowed little attention."

Speaking of Rousseau, he says:

"I derived inexpressible satisfaction from his society. What I prozed still more than his genius was his probity. He was one of the few literary characters, tried in the furnace of affliction, to whom you could, with perfect security, confide your most secret thoughts. ... Even when he deviated, and became the victim of himself or of others, he could forget his own misery in devotion to the welfare of mankind. He was uniformly the advocate of the miserable. There might be inscribed on his tomb these affecting words from that Book of which he carried always about him some select passages during the last years of his life: His sins, which are many, are forgiven, for he loved much".

[ End of footnote 1*. Return to text ]

~~~~~~~~~~~~

[ ** Note 2: stanza 46 - Like that the grey-haired sea-king passed . . . ]

Dr Hooker, who accompanied Sir James Ross in his expedition of 1841, thus describes the appearance of that unknown land of frost and fire which was seen in latitude 77° south, -- a stupendous chain of mountains, the whole mass of which, from its highest point to the ocean, was covered with everlasting snow and ice: --

"The water and the sky were both as blue, or rather more intensely blue, than I have ever seen them in the tropics, and all the coast was one mass of dazzlingly beautiful peaks of snow, which, when the sun approached the horizon, reflected the most brilliant tints of golden yellow and scarlet; and then, to see the dark cloud of smoke, tinged with flame, rising from the volcano in a perfect unbroken column, one side jet-black, the other giving back the colours of the sun, sometimes turning off at a right-angle by some current of wind, and stretching many miles to leeward! -- this was a sight so surpassing everything that can be imagined, and so heightened by the consciousness that we had penetrated, under the guidance of our commander, into regions far beyond what was ever deemed practicable, that it caused a feeling of awe to steal over us at the consideration of our own comparative insignificance and helplessness, and at the same time an indescribable feeling of the greatness of the Creator in the works of His hand."

[ End of footnote 2**. Return to text ]

_._._._._._._._._._._._._

Shall we grow weary in our watch

THE CYPRESS-TREE OF CEYLON

[ vv.10, 16 & 17: Worship-Song 1905 No.379 (1898 edn No.419) ]

[ Ibn Batuta, the celebrated Mussulman traveller of the fourteenth century, speaks of a cypress-tree in Ceylon, universally held sacred by the natives, the leaves of which were said to fall only at certain intervals, and he who had the happiness to find and eat one of them was restored, at once, to youth and vigour. The traveller saw several venerable JOGEES, or saints, sitting silent and motionless under the tree, patiently awaiting the falling of a leaf. ]

1
They sat in silent watchfulness
   The sacred cypress-tree about,
And, from beneath old wrinkled brows,
   Their failing eyes looked out.
 
2
Grey Age and Sickness waiting there
   Through weary night and lingering day, --
Grim as the idols at their side,
   And motionless as they.
 
3
Unheeded in the boughs above
   The song of Ceylon's bird was sweet;
Unseen of them the island flowers
   Bloomed brightly at their feet.
 
4
O'er them the tropic night-storm swept,
   The thunder crashed on rock and hill;
The cloud-fire on their eyeballs blazed,
   Yet there they waited still!
 
5
What was the world without to them?
   The Moslem's sunset-call, -- the dance
Of Ceylon's maids, -- the passing gleam
   Of battle-flag and lance?
 
6
They waited for that falling leaf
   Of which the wandering Jogees sing;
Which lends once more to wintry age
   The greenness of its spring.
 
7
Oh, if these poor and blinded ones
   In trustful patience wait to feel
O'er torpid pulse and failing limb
   A youthful freshness steal;
 
8
Shall we, who sit beneath that Tree
   Whose healing leaves of life are shed,
In answer to the breath of prayer
   Upon the waiting head;
 
9
Not to restore our failing forms,
   And build the spirit's broken shrine,
But on the fainting SOUL to shed
   A light and life divine;
 
10
Shall we grow weary in our watch,
   And murmur at the long delay,
Impatient of our Father's time,
   And His appointed way?
 
11
Or shall the stir of outward things
   Allure and claim the Christian's eye,
When on the heathen watcher's ear
   Their powerless murmurs die?
 
12
Alas! a deeper test of faith
   Than prison cell or martyr's stake,
The self-abasing watchfulness
   Of silent prayer may make.
 
13
We gird us bravely to rebuke
   Our erring brother in the wrong, --
And in the ear of Pride and Power
   Our warning voice is strong.
 
14
Easier to smite with Peter's sword
   Than "watch one hour" in humbling prayer.
Life's "great things," like the Syrian lord,
   Our hearts can do and dare.
 
15
But oh! we shrink from Jordan's side,
   From waters which alone can save;
And murmur for Abana's banks
   And Pharpar's brighter wave.
 
16
O Thou, who in the garden's shade
   Didst wake Thy weary ones again,
When slumbering at that fearful hour,
   Forgetful of Thy pain, --
 
17
Bend o'er us now, as over them,
   And set our sleep-bound spirits free,
Nor leave us slumbering in the watch
   Our souls should keep with Thee!
_._._._._._._._._._._._._

Sound over all waters, reach out from all lands

A CHRISTMAS CARMEN (1873) 

[Worship-Song 1905 No.802, CoH-700, SP-327]

1
Sound over all waters, reach out from all lands,
The chorus of voices, the clasping of hands;
Sing hymns that were sung by the stars of the morn,
Sing songs of the angels when Jesus was born!
       With glad jubilations
       Bring hope to the nations!
The dark night is ending and dawn has begun:
Rise, hope of the ages, arise like the sun,
   All speech flow to music, all hearts beat as one!
 
2
Sing the bridal of nations! with chorals of love,
Sing out the war-vulture and sing in the dove,
Till the hearts of the peoples keep time in accord,
And the voice of the world is the voice of the Lord!
       Clasp hands of the nations
       In strong gratulations:
The dark night is ending . . .   . . .
 
3
Blow, bugles of battle, the marches of peace;
East, west, north, and south let the long quarrel cease:
Sing the song of great joy that the angels began,
Sing of glory to God and of goodwill to man!
       Hark! joining in chorus
       The heavens bend o'er us!
The dark night is ending . . .   . . .
_._._._._._._._._._._._._

Take courage, Temperance workers

as in Worship-Song 1905 No.792 (1898 edn No.1229)

[Julian's note, p.1727b (note 26): Mr Pickard, Whittier's literary executor, cannot trace this hymn in any of the author's writings, and we also are at fault.]

1
   Take courage, Temperance workers,
      Ye shall not suffer wreck,
While up to God the people's prayers
      Are rising from your deck!
   Wait cheerily, brave toilers,
      For daylight and for land;
The breath of God is on your sail,
      Your rudder in His hand!
 
2
   Sail on! sail on! deep freighted
      With blessings and with hopes;
The good of old, with shadowy hands,
      Are pulling at your ropes.
   Behind you, holy martyrs
      Uplift the palm and crown;
Before you, unborn ages send
      Their benedictions down.
 
3
   Take cheer, your work is holy,
      God's errands never fail;
Sweep on through darkness and through storm,
      The thunder and the hail;
   Sail on, for morning cometh,
      The port you yet shall win;
And all the bells of God shall ring
      The ship of Temperance in!
_._._._._._._._._._._._._

Thine are all the gifts, O God!

HYMN

Sung at the Anniversary of the Children's Mission, Boston (1878)

[ vv. 1-4: Worship-Song 1905 No.421 (1898 edn No.450); SPE-331 ]

1
Thine are all the gifts, O God!
   Thine the broken bread;
Let the naked feet be shod,
   And the starving fed.
 
2
Let Thy children, by Thy grace,
   Give as they abound,
Till the poor have breathing-space,
   And the lost are found.
 
3
Wiser than the miser's hoards
   Is the giver's choice;
Sweeter than the song of birds
   Is the thankful voice.
 
4
Welcome smiles on faces sad
   As the flowers of spring;
Let the tender hearts be glad
   With the joy they bring.
 
5
Happier for their pity's sake
   Make their sports and plays,
And from lips of childhood take
   Thy perfected praise!
_._._._._._._._._._._._._

We need love's tender lessons taught

CHILD-SONGS

[ vv. 9-12 & 14, altd in Worship-Song 1905 No.333 (1898 edn No.1077) ]

1
Still linger in our noon of time
   And on our Saxon tongue
The echoes of the home-born hymns
   The Aryan mothers sung.
 
2
And childhood had its litanies
   In every age and clime;
The earliest cradles of the race
   Were rocked to poet's rhyme.
 
3
Nor sky, nor wave, nor tree, nor flower,
   Nor green earth's virgin sod,
So moved the singer's heart of old
   As these small ones of God.
 
4
The mystery of unfolding life
   Was more than dawning morn,
Than opening flower or crescent moon
   The human soul new-born!
 
5
And still to childhood's sweet appeal
   The heart of genius turns,
And more than all the sages teach
   From lisping voices learns, --
 
6
The voices loved of him who sang,
   Where Tweed and Teviot glide,
That sound to-day on all the winds
   That blow from Rydal-side, --
 
7
Heard in the Teuton's household songs,
   And folk-lore of the Finn,
Where'er to holy Christmas hearths
   The Christ-child enters in!
 
8
Before life's sweetest mystery still
The heart in reverence kneels;
The wonder of the primal birth
   The latest mother feels.
 
9
We need love's tender lessons taught
   As only weakness can;
God hath His small interpreters;
   The child must teach the man.
 
10
We wander wide through evil years,
   Our eyes of faith grow dim;
But he is freshest from His hands
   And nearest unto Him!
 
[ line 3, WoSo: The child is freshest from His hands ]
 
11
And haply, pleading long with Him
   For sin-sick hearts and cold,
The angels of our childhood still
   The Father's face behold.
 
12
Of such the kingdom! -- Teach Thou us,
   O Master, most divine,
To feel the deep significance
   Of these wise words of Thine!
 
13
The haughty eye shall seek in vain
   What innocence beholds;
No cunning finds the key of heaven,
   No strength its gate unfolds.
 
14
Alone to guilelessness and love
   That gate shall open fall;
The mind of pride is nothingness;
   The childlike heart is all!
_._._._._._._._._._._._._

We see not, know not; all our way

(from poems `In War Time' - i.e. the American civil war 1861-5)

[ vv.1, 2, 3, 4 & 7 (altd): Worship-Song 1905 No.262 (1898 edn No.1065) ]

1
We see not, know not; all our way
Is night, -- with Thee alone is day;
From out the torrent's troubled drift,
Above the storm our prayers we lift,
             Thy will be done!
 
2
The flesh may fail, the heart may faint;
But who are we to make complaint,
Or dare to plead, in times like these,
The weakness of our love of ease?
             Thy will be done!
 
3
We take with solemn thankfulness
Our burden up, nor ask it less,
And count it joy that even we
May suffer, serve, or wait for Thee,
             Whose will be done!
 
4
Though dim as yet in tint and line,
We trace Thy picture's wise design,
And thank Thee that our age supplies
Its dark relief of sacrifice.
             Thy will be done!
 
5
And if, in our unworthiness,
Thy sacrificial wine we press;
If from Thy ordeal's heated bars
Our feet are seamed with crimson scars,
               Thy will be done!
 
6
If, for the age to come, this hour
Of trial hath vicarious power,
And, blest by Thee, our present pain,
Be Liberty's eternal gain,
               Thy will be done!
 
7
Strike, Thou the Master, we Thy keys,
The anthem of the destinies!
The minor of Thy loftier strain,
Our hearts shall breathe the old refrain,
             Thy will be done!
 
(line 3, WoSo: As minor ... )
_._._._._._._._._._._._._

What Thou wilt, O Father, give!

ANDREW RYKMAN'S PRAYER

[ lines 155-6, 163-6, 177--8 & 169-176 of the un-versed lines, re-set as two 8-line verses, in Worship-Song 1905 No.386 (1898 edn No.1088) ]

ANDREW RYKMAN's dead and gone;
   You can see his leaning slate
In the graveyard, and thereon
      Read his name and date.
 
"Trust is truer than our fears,"
   Runs the legend through the moss,
"Gain is not in added years,
      Nor in death is loss."
 
Still the feet that thither trod,
   All the friendly eyes are dim;
Only Nature now, and God
      Have a care for him.
 
There the dews of quiet fall,
   Singing birds and soft winds stray;
Shall the tender heart of all
      Be less kind than they?
 
What he was and what he is
   They who ask may haply find,
If they read this prayer of his
   Which he left behind.

~~~~~~~~~

 

Pardon, Lord, the lips that dare
Shape in words a mortal's prayer!
Prayer, that, when my day is done,
And I see its setting sun,
Shorn and beamless, cold and dim,
Sink beneath the horizon's rim, --
When this ball of rock and clay
Crumbles from my feet away,
And the solid shores of sense
Melt into the vague immense,
Father! I may come to Thee
Even with the beggar's plea,
As the poorest of Thy poor,
With my needs, and nothing more.
 
Not as one who seeks his home
With a step assured I come;
Still behind the tread I hear
Of my life-companion, Fear;
Still a shadow, deep and vast
From my westering feet is cast,
Wavering, doubtful, undefined,
Never shapen nor outlined,
From myself the fear has grown,
And the shadow is my own.
Yet, O Lord, through all a sense
Of Thy tender providence
Stays my failing heart on Thee,
And confirms the feeble knee;
And, at times, my worn feet press
Spaces of cool quietness,
Lilied whiteness shone upon
Not by light of moon or sun.
Hours there be of inmost calm,
Broken but by grateful psalm,
When I love Thee more than fear Thee,
And Thy blessed Christ seems near me,
With forgiving look, as when
He beheld the Magdalen.
Well I know that all things move
To the spheral rhythm of love, --
That to Thee, O Lord of all!
Nothing can of chance befall;
Child and seraph, mote and star,
Well Thou knowest what we are;
Through Thy vast creative plan
Looking, from the worm to man,
There is pity in Thine eyes,
But, no hatred nor surprise.
Not in blind caprice of will,
Not in cunning sleight of skill,
Not for show of power, was wrought
Nature's marvel in Thy thought.
Never careless hand and vain
Smites these chords of joy and pain;
No immortal selfishness
Plays the game of curse and bless;
Heaven and earth are witnesses
That Thy glory goodness is.
Not for sport of mind and force
Hast Thou made Thy universe,
But as atmosphere and zone
Of Thy loving heart alone.
Man, who walketh in a show,
Sees before him, to and fro,
Shadow and illusion go;
All things flow and fluctuate,
Now conract and now dilate
In the welter of this sea,
Nothing stable is but Thee;
In this whirl of swooning trance,
Thou alone art permanence;
All without Thee only seems,
All beside is choice of dreams.
Never yet in darkest mood
Doubted I that Thou wast good,
Nor mistook my will for fate,
Pain of sin for heavenly hate, --
Never dreamed the gates of pearl
Rise from out the burning marl,
Or that good can only live
Of the bad conservative,
And through counterpoise of hell
Heaven alone be possible.
For myself alone I doubt;
All is well, I know, without;
I alone the beauty mar,
I alone the music jar.
Yet, with hands by evil stained,
And an ear by discord pained,
I am groping for the keys
Of the heavenly harmonies;
Still within my heart I bear
Love for all things good and fair.
Hands of want or souls in pain
Have not sought my door in vain;
I have kept my fealty good
To the human brotherhood;
Scarcely have I asked in prayer
That which others might not share.
I, who hear with secret shame
Praise that paineth more than blame,
Rich alone in favours lent,
virtuous by accident,
doubtful where I fain would rest,
Frailest where I seem the best,
Only strong for lack of test, --
What am I, that I should press
Special pleas of selfishness,
Cooly mounting into heaven
On my neighbour unforgiven?
Ne'er to me, howe'er disguised,
comes a saint unrecognised;
Never fails my heart to greet
Noble deed with warmer beat;
Halt and maimed, I own not less
All the grace of holiness;
Nor, through shame or self-distrust,
Less I love the pure and just.
Lord, forgive these words of mine:
What have I that is not Thine? --
Whatso'er I fain would boast
Needs thy pitying pardon most.
Thou, O Elder Brother! who
In Thy flesh our trial knew,
Thou, who hast been touched by these
Our most sad infirmities,
Thou alone the gulf canst span
In the dual heart of man,
And between the soul and sense
Reconcile all difference,
Change the dream of me and mine
For the truth of Thee and Thine,
And, through chaos, doubt, and strife,
Interfuse Thy calm of life.
Haply, thus by Thee renewed,
In Thy borrowed goodness good,
Some sweet morning yet in God's
Dim, aeonian periods,
Joyful I shall wake to see
Those I love who rest in Thee,
And to them in Thee allied
Shall my soul be satisfied.
 
Scarcely Hope hath shared for me
What the future life may be,
Other lips my well be bold;
Like the publican of old,
I can only urge the plea,
"Lord, be merciful to me!"
Nothing of desert I claim,
Unto me belongeth shame.
Not for me the crowns of gold,
Palms, and harpings manifold;
Not for erring eye and feet
Jasper wall and golden street.

[ lines 155-6, 163-6, 177--8 & 169-176 of the unstanza-ed lines, re-set as two 8-line verses, in Worship-Song 1905 No.386 (1898 edn No.1088) ]

WoSo
JGW
What Thou wilt, O Father, give!
All is gain that I receive;
What Thou wilt, O Father, give!
All is gain that I receive;

If my voice I may not raise
In the elders' song of praise,
If I may not, sin defiled,
Claim my birthright as a child,
Suffer it that I to Thee
As an hired servant be;
Let the lowliest task be mine,
Grateful, so the work be Thine.
Let me find the humblest place
In the shadow of Thy grace;
Let the lowliest task be mine,
Grateful, so the work be Thine.
Let me find the humblest place
In the shadow of Thy grace;
Let me find in Thine employ   <----
Peace that dearer is than joy.

 
2.
Blest to me were any spot
Where temptation whispers not.
If there be some weaker one,
Give me strength to help him on;
If a blinder soul there be,
Let me guide him nearer Thee.
Make my mortal dreams come true
With the work I fain would do;
Clothe with life the weak intent,
Let me be the thing I meant!
If there be some weaker one,
Give me strength to help him on;
If a blinder soul there be,
Let me guide him nearer Thee.
Make my mortal dreams come true
With the work I fain would do;
Clothe with life the weak intent,
Let me be the thing I meant!

\__

 
 
 
 
Let me find in Thine employ
Peace that dearer is than joy;
Out of self to love be led
And to heaven acclimated,
Until all things sweet and good
Seem my natural habitude.

~~~~~~~~~
 
So we read the prayer of him
   Who, with John of Labadie,
Trod, of old, the oozy rim
      Of the Zuyder Zee.
 
Thus did Andrew Ryker pray.
   Are we wiser, better grown,
That we may not, in our day,
      Make his prayer our own?
_._._._._._._._._._._._._

When on my day of life the night is falling

AT LAST

(1882; in The Bay of the Seven Islands, and Other Poems 1883) 

[ Garrett Horder, Congr.Hys 1884; Worship-Song 1905 No.529 (1898 edn No.839); CoH-551, RCH-589, BCHr-444, BHB-777, CP-770; also (omitting vv.2 & 6) SP-398, SPE-697, MHB-642 ]

1
When on my day of life the night is falling,
   And, in the winds from unsunned spaces blown,
I hear far voices out of darkness calling
       My feet to paths unknown.
 
2
Thou who hast made my home of life so pleasant,
   Leave not its tenant when its walls decay;
O Love Divine, O Helper ever present,
       Be Thou my strength and stay!
 
3
Be near me when all else is from me drifting --
   Earth, sky, home's pictures, days of shade and shine,
And kindly faces to my own uplifting
       The love which answers mine.
 
4
I have but Thee, my Father! let Thy spirit
   Be with me then to comfort and uphold;
No gate of pearl, no branch of palm I merit,
   Nor street of shining gold.
 
5
Suffice it if -- my good and ill unreckoned,
   And both forgiven through Thy abounding grace --
I find myself by hands familiar beckoned
       Unto my fitting place.
 
6
Some humble door among Thy many mansions,
   Some sheltering shade where sin and striving cease,
And flows for ever through heaven's green expansions
   The river of Thy peace.
 
7
There, from the music round about me stealing,
   I fain would learn the new and holy song,
And find at last, beneath Thy trees of healing,
       The life for which I long.
_._._._._._._._._._._._._

With silence only as their benediction

TO MY FRIEND ON THE DEATH OF HIS SISTER

[ Sophia Sturge, sister of Joseph Sturge, of Birmingham, the President of the British Complete Suffrage Association, died in the 6th month, 1845. She was the colleague, counsellor, and ever-ready helpmate of her brother in all his vast designs of beneficence. The Birmingham Pilot says of her: "Never, perhaps, were the active and passive virtues of the human character more harmoniously and beautifully blended than in this excellent woman." ]

[ vv. 6-9 altd, in Worship-Song 1905 No.330 (1898 edn No.1831) ]

1
Thine is a grief, the depth of which another
               may never know;
Yet o'er the waters, O my stricken brother!
               To thee I go.
 
2
I lean my heart unto thee, sadly folding
               Thy hand in mine;
With even the weakness of my soul unfolding
               The strength of thine.
 
3
I never knew, like thee, the dear departed;
               I stood not by
When, in calm trust, the pure and tranquil-hearted
               Lay down to die.
 
4
And on thy ears my words of weak condoling
               Must vainly fall:
The funeral bell which in thy heart is tolling,
               Sounds over all.
 
5
I will not mock thee with the poor world's common
               And heartless phrase ,
Nor wrong the memory of a sainted woman
               With idle praise.
 
6
With silence only as their benediction,
               God's angels come,
Where, in the shadow of a great affliction,
               The soul sits dumb!
 
7
Yet would I say what thine own heart approveth:
               Our Father's will,
Calling to Him the dear ones whom He loveth,
               Is mercy still.
 
[ line 1, WoSo:
Yet would we say what every heart approveth -- ]
 
8
Not upon thee or thine the solemn angel
               Hath evil wrought;
The funeral anthem is a glad evangel;
               The good die not!
 
[ WoSo, line 1:
Not upon us or ours the solemn angel
line 3:
Her funeral anthem ... ]
 
9
God calls our loved ones, but we lose not wholly
               What He hath given;
They live on earth in thought and deed, as truly
               As in His heaven.
 
[ line 2, WoSo: What He has given; ]
 
10
And she is with thee; in thy path of trial
               She walketh yet;
Still with the baptism of thy self-denial
               Her locks are wet.
 
11
Up, then, my brother! Lo, the fields of harvest
               Lie white in view!
She lives and loves thee, and the God thou servest
               To both is true.
 
12
Thrust in thy sickle! -- England's toil-worn peasants
               Thy call abide;
And she thou mourn'st, a pure and holy presence,
               Shall glean beside!
_._._._._._._._._._._._._

O brother man, fold to thy heart

WORSHIP

[ from Labor and Other Poems, 1850 ]

[ Not in WoSo; but (as centos) in The Fellowship Hymn Book 1909/33 (No.35), RCH-485, SP-176, SPE-307, MHB-911, BBC-376, ChH-557, CP-541, BHB-662, 3CH-460, WOV-503, &c . Not included in A&M, EH, Congregational books other than CP, Baptist books other than BHB. ]

[ RCH, MHB, BBC, 3CH, WOV have vv. 13, 11, 14 & 15; FHB: vv. 13, 11, 14; SP, SPE, ChH, CP, BHB: vv. 13, 14, 15 ]

~~~~~~~~~

"Pure religion, and undefiled, before God and the Father is this: to visit the widows and the fatherless in their affliction; and to keep himself unspotted from the world." -- James 1:27.

1
The Pagan's myths through marble lips are spoken,
   And ghosts of old Beliefs still flit and moan
Round fane and altar overthrown and broken,
   O'er tree-grown barrow and grey ring of stone.
 
2
Blind Faith had martyrs in those old high places,
   The Syrian hill grove and the Druid's wood,
With mother's offering, to the Fiend's embraces,
   Bone of their bone, and blood of their own blood.
 
3
Red altars, kindling through that night of error,
   Smoked with warm blood beneath the cruel eye
Of lawless Power and sanguinary Terror,
   Throned on the circle of a pitiless sky;
 
4
Beneath whose baleful shadow, overcasting
   All heaven above, and blighting earth below,
The scourge grew red, the lip grew pale with fasting,
   And man's oblation was his fear and woe!
 
5
Then through great temples swelled the dismal moaning
   Of dirge-like music and sepulchral prayer;
Pale wizard priests, o'er occult symbols droning,
   Swung their white censers in the burdened air:
 
6
As if the pomp of rituals, and the savour
   Of gums and spices could the Unseen One please;
As if His ear could bend, with childish favour,
   To the poor flattery of the organ keys!
 
7
Feet red from war-fields trod the church aisles holy,
   With trembling reverence; and the oppressor there,
Kneeling before his priest, abased and lowly,
   Crushed human hearts beneath his knee of prayer.
 
8
Not such the service the benignant Father
   Requireth at His earthly children's hands:
Not the poor offering of vain rites, but rather
   The simple duty man from man demands.
 
9
For Earth He asks it: the full joy of Heaven
   Knoweth no change of waning or increase;
The great heart of the Infinite beats even,
   Untroubled flows the river of His peace.
 
10
He asks no taper lights, on high surrounding
   The priestly altar and the saintly grave,
No dolorous chant nor organ music sounding,
   Nor incense clouding up the twilight nave.
 
11 (following v.13 in some hymn-book centos)
For he whom Jesus loved hath truly spoken:
   The holier worship which He deigns to bless
Restores the lost, and binds the spirit broken,
   And feeds the widow and the fatherless!
 
12
Types of our human weakness and our sorrow!
   Who lives undaunted by his his loved ones dead?
Who, with vain longing, seeketh not to borrow
   From stranger eyes the home lights which have fled?
 
13
O brother man! fold to thy heart thy brother;
   Where pity dwells, the peace of God is there;
To worship rightly is to love each other,
   Each smile a hymn, each kindly deed a prayer.
 
14
Follow with reverent steps the great example
   Of Him whose holy work was "doing good;"
So shall the wide earth seem our Father's temple,
   Each loving life a psalm of gratitude.
 
15
Then shall all shackles fall; the stormy clangour
   Of wild war music o'er the earth shall cease;
Love shall tread out the baleful fire of anger,
   And in its ashes plant the tree of peace!
_._._._._._._._._._._._._

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(The Rejoice & Sing Enchiridion:edited by David Goodall; last amended 23/5/03)