Bitter-Sweet | Page 4

yesterday?(Or a schoolmaster, with a handsome face,?And a strange passion for the text), the fact,?That wedded bliss alone survives the fall.?I'm shocked; I'm frightened; and I'll never wed?Unless I--change my mind!
Israel.
And I consent.
David.
And the schoolmaster with the handsome face?Propose.
Ruth.
Your pardon, father, for the jest!?But I have never patience with the ills?That make intrusion on my happy hours.?I know the world is full of evil things,?And shudder with the consciousness. I know?That care has iron crowns for many brows;?That Calvaries are everywhere, whereon?Virtue is crucified, and nails and spears?Draw guiltless blood; that sorrow sits and drinks?At sweetest hearts, till all their life is dry;?That gentle spirits on the rack of pain?Grow faint or fierce, and pray and curse by turns;?That Hell's temptations, clad in Heavenly guise?And armed with might, lie evermore in wait?Along life's path, giving assault to all--?Fatal to most; that Death stalks through the earth,?Choosing his victims, sparing none at last;?That in each shadow of a pleasant tree?A grief sits sadly sobbing to its leaves;?And that beside each fearful soul there walks?The dim, gaunt phantom of uncertainty,?Bidding it look before, where none may see,?And all must go; but I forget it all--?I thrust it from me always when I may;?Else I should faint with fear, or drown myself?In pity. God forgive me! but I've thought?A thousand times that if I had His power.?Or He my love, we'd have a different world?From this we live in.
Israel.
Those are sinful thoughts,?My daughter, and too surely indicate?A willful soul, unreconciled to God.
Ruth.
So you have told me often. You have said?That God is just, and I have looked around?To seek the proof in human lot, in vain.?The rain falls kindly on the just man's fields,?But on the unjust man's more kindly still;?And I have never known the winter's blast,?Or the quick lightning, or the pestilence,?Make nice discriminations when let slip?From God's right hand.
Israel.
'Tis a great mystery;?Yet God is just, and,--blessed be His name!--?Is loving too. I know that I am weak,?And that the pathway of His Providence?Is on the hills where I may never climb.?Therefore my reason yields her hand to Faith,?And follows meekly where the angel leads.?I see the rich man have his portion here,?And Lazarus, in glorified repose,?Sleep like a jewel on the breast of Faith?In Heaven's broad light. I see that whom God loves?He chastens sorely, but I ask not why.?I only know that God is just and good:?All else is mystery. Why evil lives?Within His universe, I may not know.?I know it lives, and taints the vital air;?And that in ways inscrutable to me--?Yet compromising not His soundless love?And boundless power--it lives against His will.
Ruth.
I am not satisfied. If evil live?Against God's will, evil is king of all,?And they do well who worship Lucifer.?I am not satisfied. My reason spurns?Such prostitution to absurdities.?I know that you are happy; but I shrink?From your blind faith with loathing and with fear.?And feel that I must win it, if I win,?With the surrender, not of will alone,?But of the noblest faculty that God?Has crowned me with.
Israel.
O blind and stubborn child!?My light, my joy, my burden and my grief!?How would I lead you to the wells of peace,?And see you dip your fevered palms and drink!?Gladly to purchase this would I lay down?The precious remnant of my life, and sleep,?Wrapped in the faith you spurn, till the archangel?Sounds the last trump. But God's good will be done!?I leave you with Him.
Ruth.
Father, talk not thus!?Oh, do not blame me! I would do it all,?If but to bless you with a single joy;?But I am helpless.
Israel.
God will help you, Ruth.
Ruth.
To quench my reason? Can I ask the boon??My lips would blister with the blasphemy.?I cannot take your faith; and that is why?I would forget that I am in a world?Where evil lives, and why I guard my joys?With such a jealous care.
David.
There, Ruth, sit down!?'Tis the old question, with the old reply.?You fly along the path, with bleeding feet,?Where many feet have flown and bled before;?And he who seeks to guide you to the goal?Has (let me say it, father) stopped far short,?And taken refuge at a wayside inn,?Whose haunted halls and mazy passages?Receive no light, save through the riddled roof,?Pierced thick by pilgrim staves, that Faith may lie?Upon its back, and only gaze on Heaven.?I would not banish evil if I could;?Nor would I be so deep in love with joy?As to seek for it in forgetfulness,?Through faith or fear.
Ruth.
Teach me the better way,?And every expiration from my lips?Shall be a grateful blessing on your head;?And in the coming world I'll seek the side?Of no more gracious angel than the man?Who gives me brotherhood by leading me?Home with himself to heaven.
Israel.
My son,?Be careful of your words! 'Tis no light thing?To take the guidance of a straying soul.
David.
I mark the burden well, and love it, too,?Because