Chapter 78
There is no flock, however watched and tended, But one dead lamb is there!
There is no fireside, howsoe'er defended, But has one vacant chair.
The air is full of farewells to the dying And mourning for the dead; The heart of Rachel, for her children crying, Will not be comforted!
Let us be patient! These severe afflictions Not from the ground arise, But oftentimes celestial benedictions a.s.sume this dark disguise.
We see but dimly through the mists and vapors; Amid these earthly damps What seem to us but sad, funereal tapers May be heaven's distant lamps.
There is no Death! What seems so is transition; This life of mortal breath Is but a suburb of the life elysian, Whose portal we call death.
She is not dead--the child of our affection-- But gone unto that school Where she no longer needs our poor protection, And Christ himself doth rule.
In that great cloister's stillness and seclusion, By guardian angels led, Safe from temptation, safe from sin's pollution, She lives, whom we call dead.
Day after day we think what she is doing In those bright realms of air; Year after year, her tender steps pursuing, Behold her grown more fair.
Thus do we walk with her and keep unbroken The bond which nature gives, Thinking that our remembrance, though unspoken, May reach her where she lives.
We will be patient, and a.s.suage the feeling We may not wholly stay; By silence sanctifying, not concealing, The grief that must have way.
--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.
MADE PERFECT THROUGH SUFFERING
I bless thee, Lord, for sorrows sent To break my dream of human power; For now, my shallow cistern spent, I find thy founts, and thirst no more.
I take Thy hand, and fears grow still; Behold thy face, and doubts remove; Who would not yield his wavering will To perfect Truth and boundless Love?
That Love this restless soul doth teach The strength of thine eternal calm; And tune its sad but broken speech To join on earth the angel's psalm.
Oh, be it patient in thy hands, And drawn, through each mysterious hour, To service of thy pure commands, The narrow way of Love and Power.
--Samuel Johnson.
GO NOT FAR FROM ME
Go not far from me, O my strength, Whom all my times obey: Take from me any thing Thou wilt, But go not thou away-- And let the storm that does thy work Deal with me as it may.
On thy compa.s.sion I repose, In weakness and distress; I will not ask for greater ease, Lest I should love
Oh 'tis a blessed thing for me To need thy tenderness.
While many sympathizing hearts For my deliverance care, Thou, in thy wiser, stronger love, Art teaching me to bear-- By the sweet voice of thankful song, And calm, confiding prayer.
Thy love has many a lighted path, No outward eye can trace, And my heart sees thee in the deep, With darkness on its face.
And communes with thee, 'mid the storm, As in a secret place.
O Comforter of G.o.d's redeemed, Whom the world does not see, What hand should pluck me from the flood That casts my soul on thee?
Who would not suffer pain like mine To be consoled like me?
When I am feeble as a child, And flesh and heart give way, Then on thy everlasting strength With pa.s.sive trust I stay.
And the rough wind becomes a song, The darkness s.h.i.+nes like day.
O blessed are the eyes that see-- Though silent anguish show-- The love that in their hours of sleep Unthanked may come and go.
And blessed are the ears that hear, Though kept awake by woe.
Happy are they that learn, in thee-- Though patient suffering teach-- The secret of enduring strength And praise too deep for speech: Peace that no pressure from without, No strife within, can reach.
There is no death for me to fear, For Christ, my Lord, hath died; There is no curse in this my pain, For he was crucified.
And it is fellows.h.i.+p with him That keeps me near his side.
My heart is fixed--O G.o.d, my strength-- My heart is strong to bear; I will be joyful in thy love, And peaceful in thy care.
Deal with me, for my Saviour's sake, According to his prayer.
No suffering while it lasts is joy, How blest soe'er it be, Yet may the chastened child be glad His Father's face to see; And oh, it is not hard to bear What must be borne in thee.
It is not hard to bear by faith, In thine own bosom laid, The trial of a soul redeemed, For thy rejoicing made.
Well may the heart in patience rest That none can make afraid.
Safe in thy sanctifying grace-- Almighty to restore-- Borne onward, sin and death behind, And love and life before, O let my soul abound in hope, And praise thee more and more.
Deep unto deep may call, but I With peaceful heart will say-- Thy loving-kindness hath a charge No waves can take away; And let the storm that speeds me home Deal with me as it may.
--Anna Let.i.tia Waring.
Walking along the sh.o.r.e one morn, A holy man by chance I found Who by a tiger had been torn And had no salve to heal his wound.
Long time he suffered grievous pain, But not the less to the Most High He offered thanks. They asked him, Why?
For answer he thanked G.o.d again; And then to them: "That I am in No greater peril than you see: That what has overtaken me Is but misfortune--and not sin."
--Richard Henry Stoddard.
THE CELESTIAL SURGEON
If I have faltered more or less In my great task of happiness; If I have moved among my race And shown no glorious morning face; If beams from happy human eyes Have moved me not; if morning skies, Books, and my food, and summer rain Knocked on my sullen heart in vain; Lord, thy most pointed pleasure take And stab my spirit broad awake; Or, Lord, if too obdurate I, Choose thou, before that spirit die, A piercing pain, a killing sin, And to my dead heart run them in.
--Robert Louis Stevenson.
I ASKED THE LORD THAT I MIGHT GROW
I asked the Lord that I might grow In faith and love and every grace; Might more of his salvation know, And seek more earnestly his face.
'Twas He who taught me thus to pray, And he, I trust, has answer'd prayer; But it has been in such a way As almost drove me to despair.