Chapter 34
--Richard Chenevix Trench.
BROTHERHOOD
CHARITY, SYMPATHY, EXAMPLE, INFLUENCE
THE HOUSE BY THE SIDE OF THE ROAD
There are hermit souls that live withdrawn In the peace of their self-content; There are souls, like stars, that dwell apart In a fellowless firmament; There are pioneer souls that blaze their paths Where highways never ran-- But let me live by the side of the road And be a friend to man.
Let me live in a house by the side of the road, Where the race of men go by-- The men who are good and the men who are bad, As good and as bad as I.
I would not sit in the scorner's seat, Or hurl the cynic's ban-- Let me live in a house by the side of the road, And be a friend to man.
I see from my house by the side of the road, By the side of the highway of life, The men who press with the ardor of hope The men who are faint with the strife.
But I turn not away from their smiles nor their tears-- Both parts of an infinite plan-- Let me live in a house by the side of the road And be a friend to man.
I know there are brook-gladdened meadows ahead And mountains of wearisome height; And the road pa.s.ses on through the long afternoon And stretches away to the night.
But still I rejoice when the travelers rejoice, And weep with the strangers that moan, Nor live in my house by the side of the road Like a man who dwells alone.
Let me live in my house by the side of the road Where the race of men go by-- They are good, they are bad, they are weak, they are strong, Wise, foolish--so am I.
Then why should I sit in the scorner's seat Or hurl the cynic's ban?
Let me live in my house by the side of the road And be a friend to man.
--Sam Walter Foss.
IS YOUR LAMP BURNING?
Say, is your lamp burning, my brother?
I pray you look quickly and see; For if it were burning, then surely Some beams would fall brightly on me.
Straight, straight is the road, but I falter.
And oft I fall out by the way; Then lift your lamp higher, my brother, Lest I should make fatal delay.
There are many and many around you Who follow wherever you go; If
Upon the dark mountains they stumble, They are bruised on the rocks, and they lie With their white pleading faces turned upward To the clouds and the pitiful sky.
There is many a lamp that is lighted, We behold them anear and afar, But not many among them, my brother, s.h.i.+ne steadily on, like a star.
I think, were they trimmed night and morning, They would never burn down or go out, Though from the four quarters of heaven The winds were all blowing about.
If once all the lamps that are lighted Should steadily blaze in a line, Wide over the land and the ocean, What a girdle of glory would s.h.i.+ne!
How all the dark places would brighten!
How the mists would roll up and away!
How the earth would laugh out in her gladness To hail the millennial day!
Say, is your lamp burning, my brother?
I pray you look quickly and see; For if it were burning, then surely Some beams would fall brightly on me.
IF I SHOULD DIE TO-NIGHT
If I should die to-night, My friends would look upon my quiet face Before they laid it in its resting-place, And deem that death had left it almost fair, And laying snow-white flowers upon my hair, Would smooth it down with tearful tenderness, And fold my hands with lingering caress-- Poor hands, so empty and so cold to-night!
If I should die to-night, My friends would call to mind, with loving thought, Some kindly deed the icy hand had wrought, Some gentle word the frozen lips had said-- Errands on which the willing feet had sped; The memory of my selfishness and pride, My hasty words, would all be put aside, And so I should be loved and mourned to-night.
If I should die to-night, Even hearts estranged would turn once more to me, Recalling other days remorsefully.
The eyes that chill me with averted glance Would look upon me as of yore, perchance, And soften in the old familiar way; For who would war with dumb, unconscious clay?
So I might rest, forgiven of all to-night.
O friends, I pray to-night, Keep not your kisses for my dead cold brow.
The way is lonely; let me feel them now.
Think gently of me; I am travel-worn, My faltering feet are pierced with many a thorn.
Forgive! O hearts estranged, forgive, I plead!
When ceaseless bliss is mine I shall not need The tenderness for which I long to-night.
--Belle Eugenia Smith.
FRUITION
We scatter seeds with careless hand And dream we ne'er shall see them more, But for a thousand years Their fruit appears In weeds that mar the land Or helpful store.
The deeds we do, the words we say-- Into still air they seem to fleet; We count them ever past; But they shall last-- In the dread judgment they And we shall meet.
I charge thee by the years gone by, For the love's sake of brethren dear, Keep thou the one true way, In work and play, Lest in that world their cry Of woe thou hear.
--John Keble.
Still s.h.i.+nes the light of holy lives Like star beams over doubt; Each sainted memory, Christlike, drives Some dark possession out.
--John Greenleaf Whittier.
HAVE CHARITY
Then gently scan your brother man, Still gentler sister woman; Though they may gang a kennin' wrang To step aside is human: One point must still be greatly dark, The moving _why_ they do it: And just as lamely can ye mark How far, perhaps, they rue it.
Who made the heart, 'tis He alone Decidedly can try us; He knows each chord--its various tone, Each spring--its various bias; Then at the balance let's be mute, We never can adjust it; What's done we partly may compute, But know not what's resisted.
--Robert Burns.