Chapter 89
On thee we fling our burdening woe, O Love divine, forever dear; Content to suffer while we know, Living and dying, thou art near!
--Oliver Wendell Holmes.
Love took up the gla.s.s of Time, and turned it in his glowing hands; Every moment, lightly shaken, ran itself in golden sands.
Love took up the harp of Life, and smote on all the chords with might; Smote the chord of Self, that, trembling, pa.s.sed in music out of sight.
--Alfred Tennyson.
For, lo! in hidden deep accord The servant may be like his Lord.
And thy love, our love s.h.i.+ning through, May tell the world that thou art true, Till those who see us see thee too.
--Anna Let.i.tia Waring.
Who loves, no law can ever bind; He'd cleave to G.o.d as well Were there no golden heaven's reward, And no dark cave of h.e.l.l.
--Scheffler, tr. by Frederic Rowland Marvin.
To halls of heavenly truth admission wouldst thou win?
Oft knowledge stands without, while Love may enter in.
--Richard Chenevix Trench.
For others' sake to make life sweet Though thorns may pierce your weary feet; For others' sake to walk each day As if joy helped you all the way, While in the heart may be a grave That makes it hard to be so brave.
Herein, I think, is love.
Talk not of wasted affection, affection never was wasted; If it enrich not the heart of another, its waters, returning Back to their springs, like the rain, shall fill them full of refreshment.
--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.
Ah, yes! I would a phoenix be, And burn my heart in Deity!
Then I should dwell by his dear side, And in the self of G.o.d abide.
--Scheffler, tr. by Frederic Rowland Marvin.
The man is happy, Lord, who love like this doth owe: Loves thee, his friend in thee, and, for thy sake, his foe.
--Richard Chenevix Trench.
HOPE
PROGRESS, OPTIMISM, ENTHUSIASM
THE PROMISED LAND--TO-MORROW
High hopes that burned like stars sublime Go down the heavens of freedom, And true hearts perish in the time We bitterliest need them; But
Our birds of song are silent now, There are no flowers blooming, But life beats in the frozen bough And freedom's spring is coming.
And freedom's tide comes up alway Though we may stand in sorrow; And our good bark, aground to-day, Shall float again to-morrow.
Though hearts brood o'er the past, our eyes With s.h.i.+ning futures glisten; Lo! now the dawn bursts up the skies: Lean out your souls and listen!
The earth rolls freedom's radiant way, And ripens with her sorrow; And 'tis the martyrdom to-day Brings victory to-morrow.
Through all the long night of the years The people's cry ascended; The earth was wet with blood and tears Ere their meek sufferings ended.
The few shall not forever sway, The many toil in sorrow, The bars of h.e.l.l are strong to-day But Christ shall rise to-morrow.
'Tis weary watching wave on wave, But still the tide heaves onward; We climb like corals, grave on grave, But build a pathway sunward; We're beaten back in many a fray, But strength divine will borrow-- And where our vanguard rests to-day Our rear shall march to-morrow.
Then, Youth! flame-earnest, still aspire; With energies immortal, To many a haven of desire Your yearning opes a portal.
And though age wearies by the way, And hearts break in the furrow, We sow the golden grain to-day-- The harvest comes to-morrow.
--Gerald Ma.s.sey.
THE RIGHT MUST WIN
O it is hard to work for G.o.d, To rise and take his part Upon this battle-field of earth, And not sometimes lose heart!
He hides himself so wondrously, As though there were no G.o.d; He is least seen when all the powers Of ill are most abroad.
Or He deserts us at the hour The fight is all but lost; And seems to leave us to ourselves Just when we need him most.
Yes, there is less to try our faith, In our mysterious creed, Than in the G.o.dless look of earth In these our hours of need.
Ill masters good, good seems to change To ill with greatest ease; And, worst of all, the good with good Is at cross purposes.
It is not so, but so it looks, And we lose courage then; And doubts will come if G.o.d hath kept His promises to men.
Ah! G.o.d is other than we think; His ways are far above; Far beyond reason's height, and reached Only by childlike love.
The look, the fas.h.i.+on, of G.o.d's ways Love's lifelong study are; She can be bold, and guess, and act When reason would not dare.
She has a prudence of her own; Her step is firm and free.
Yet there is cautious science, too In her simplicity.
Workman of G.o.d! oh, lose not heart, But learn what G.o.d is like, And in the darkest battle-field, Thou shalt know where to strike.