Legends and Lyrics, Pt 2 | Page 8

one.
Arouse him then:- this is thy part:
Show him the claim; point out the
need;
And nerve his arm, and cheer his heart;
Then stand aside, and
say "God speed!"
Smooth thou his path ere it is trod;
Burnish the arms that he must
wield;
And pray, with all thy strength, that God
May crown him
Victor of the field.
And then, I think, thy soul shall feel
A nobler thrill of true content,

Than if presumptuous, eager zeal
Had seized a crown for others
meant.
And even that very deed shall shine
In mystic sense, divine and true,

More wholly and more purely thine -
Because it is another's too.
VERSE: A LOST CHORD
Seated one day at the Organ,
I was weary and ill at ease,
And my
fingers wandered idly
Over the noisy keys.
I do not know what I was playing,
Or what I was dreaming then;

But I struck one chord of music,
Like the sound of a great Amen.
It flooded the crimson twilight
Like the close of an Angel's Psalm,

And it lay on my fevered spirit
With a touch of infinite calm.
It quieted pain and sorrow,
Like love overcoming strife;
It seemed
the harmonious echo
From our discordant life.
It linked all perplexed meanings
Into one perfect peace,
And
trembled away into silence
As if it were loth to cease.
I have sought, but I seek it vainly,
That one lost chord divine,

Which came from the soul of the Organ,
And entered into mine.

It may be that Death's bright angel
Will speak in that chord again, -

It may be that only in Heaven
I shall hear that grand Amen.
VERSE: TOO LATE
Hush! speak low; tread softly;
Draw the sheet aside; -
Yes, she does
look peaceful;
With that smile she died.
Yet stern want and sorrow
Even now you trace
On the wan, worn
features
Of the still white face.
Restless, helpless, hopeless,
Was her bitter part; -
Now--how still
the Violets
Lie upon her Heart!
She who toiled and laboured
For her daily bread;
See the velvet
hangings
Of this stately bed.
Yes, they did forgive her;
Brought her home at last;
Strove to cover
over
Their relentless past.
Ah, they would have given
Wealth, and home, and pride,
To see her
just look happy
Once before she died!
They strove hard to please her,
But, when death is near
All you
know is deadened,
Hope, and joy, and fear.
And besides, one sorrow
Deeper still--one pain
Was beyond them:
healing
Came to-day--in vain!
If she had but lingered
Just a few hours more;
Or had this letter
reached her
Just one day before!
I can almost pity
Even him to-day;
Though he let this anguish
Eat
her heart away.
Yet she never blamed him:-
One day you shall know
How this

sorrow happened;
It was long ago.
I have read the letter:
Many a weary year,
For one word she
hungered -
There are thousands here.
If she could but hear it,
Could but understand;
See--I put the letter

In her cold white hand.
Even these words, so longed for,
Do not stir her rest;
Well--I should
not murmur,
For God judges best.
She needs no more pity, -
But I mourn his fate,
When he hears his
letter
Came a day too late.
VERSE: THE REQUITAL
Loud roared the Tempest,
Fast fell the sleet;
A little Child Angel

Passed down the street,
With trailing pinions,
And weary feet.
The moon was hidden;
No stars were bright;
So she could not
shelter
In heaven that night,
For the Angels' ladders
Are rays of
light.
She beat her wings
At each window pane,
And pleaded for shelter,

But all in vain: -
"Listen," they said,
"To the pelting rain!"
She sobbed, as the laughter
And mirth grew higher,
"Give me rest
and shelter
Beside your fire,
And I will give you
Your heart's
desire."
The dreamer sat watching
His embers gleam,
While his heart was
floating
Down hope's bright stream;
. . . So he wove her wailing

Into his dream.
The worker toiled on,
For his time was brief;
The mourner was
nursing
Her own pale grief:
They heard not the promise
That

brought relief.
But fiercer the Tempest
Rose than before,
When the Angel paused

At a humble door,
And asked for shelter
And help once more.
A weary woman,
Pale, worn, and thin,
With the brand upon her

Of want and sin,
Heard the Child Angel
And took her in.
Took her in gently,
And did her best
To dry her pinions;
And
made her rest
With tender pity
Upon her breast.
When the eastern morning
Grew bright and red,
Up the first
sunbeam
The Angel fled;
Having kissed the woman
And left
her--dead.
VERSE: RETURNED--"MISSING" (FIVE YEARS AFTER)
Yes, I was sad and anxious,
But now, dear, I am gay;
I know that it
is wisest
To put all hope away:-
Thank God that I have done so

And can be calm to-day.
For hope deferred--you know it,
Once made my heart so sick:
Now,
I expect no longer;
It is but the old trick
Of hope, that makes me
tremble,
And makes my heart beat quick.
All day I sit here calmly;
Not as I did before,
Watching for one
whose footstep
Comes never, never more . . .
Hush! was that
someone passing,
Who paused beside the door?
For years I hung on chances,
Longing for just one word;
At last I
feel it:- silence
Will never more be stirred . . .
Tell me once more
that rumour,
You fancied you had heard.
Life has more things to dwell