Poems of Cheer | Page 5

stop to reason out
The why and how. I do not care,?Since I know this, that when I doubt,
Life seems a blackness of despair,?The world a tomb; and when I trust,?Sweet blossoms spring up in the dust.
Since I know in the darkest hour,
If I lift up my soul in prayer,?Some sympathetic, loving Power
Sends hope and comfort to me there.?Since balm is sent to ease my pain,?What need to argue or explain?
Prayer has a sweet, refining grace,
It educates the soul and heart.?It lends a lustre to the face,
And by its elevating art?It gives the mind an inner sight?That brings it near the Infinite.
From our gross selves it helps us rise
To something which we yet may be.?And so I ask not to be wise,
If thus my faith is lost to me.?Faith, that with angel's voice and touch?Says, "Pray, for prayer availeth much."
IN THE LONG RUN
In the long run fame finds the deserving man.
The lucky wight may prosper for a day,?But in good time true merit leads the van
And vain pretence, unnoticed, goes its way.?There is no Chance, no Destiny, no Fate,?But Fortune smiles on those who work and wait,
In the long run.
In the long run all godly sorrow pays,
There is no better thing than righteous pain,?The sleepless nights, the awful thorn-crowned days,
Bring sure reward to tortured soul and brain.?Unmeaning joys enervate in the end,?But sorrow yields a glorious dividend
In the long run.
In the long run all hidden things are known,
The eye of truth will penetrate the night,?And good or ill, thy secret shall be known,
However well 'tis guarded from the light.?All the unspoken motives of the breast?Are fathomed by the years and stand confess'd
In the long run.
In the long run all love is paid by love,
Though undervalued by the hosts of earth;?The great eternal Government above
Keeps strict account and will redeem its worth.?Give thy love freely; do not count the cost;?So beautiful a thing was never lost
In the long run.
AS YOU GO THROUGH LIFE
Don't look for the flaws as you go through life;
And even when you find them,?It is wise and kind to be somewhat blind,
And look for the virtue behind them;?For the cloudiest night has a hint of light
Somewhere in its shadows hiding;?It's better by far to hunt for a star,
Than the spots on the sun abiding.
The current of life runs ever away
To the bosom of God's great ocean.?Don't set your force 'gainst the river's course,
And think to alter its motion.?Don't waste a curse on the universe,
Remember, it lived before you;?Don't butt at the storm with your puny form,
But bend and let it go o'er you.
The world will never adjust itself
To suit your whims to the letter,?Some things must go wrong your whole life long,
And the sooner you know it the better.?It is folly to fight with the Infinite,
And go under at last in the wrestle.?The wiser man shapes into God's plan,
As water shapes into a vessel.
TWO SUNSETS
In the fair morning of his life,
When his pure heart lay in his breast,?Panting, with all that wild unrest?To plunge into the great world's strife
That fills young hearts with mad desire,
He saw a sunset. Red and gold?The burning billows surged and rolled,?And upward tossed their caps of fire.
He looked. And as he looked, the sight
Sent from his soul through breast and brain?Such intense joy, it hurt like pain.?His heart seemed bursting with delight.
So near the Unknown seemed, so close
He might have grasped it with his hands?He felt his inmost soul expand,?As sunlight will expand a rose
One day he heard a singing strain -
A human voice, in bird-like trills.?He paused, and little rapture-rills?Went trickling downward through each vein.
And in his heart the whole day long,
As in a temple veiled and dim,?He kept and bore about with him?The beauty of that singer's song.
And then? But why relate what then?
His smouldering heart flamed into fire -?He had his one supreme desire,?And plunged into the world of men.
For years queen Folly held her sway.
With pleasures of the grosser kind?She fed his flesh and drugged his mind,?Till, shamed, he sated, turned away.
He sought his boyhood's home.
That hour Triumphant should have been, in sooth,?Since he went forth, an unknown youth,?And came back crowned with wealth and power.
The clouds made day a gorgeous bed;
He saw the splendour of the sky?With unmoved heart and stolid eye;?He only knew the West was red.
Then suddenly a fresh young voice
Rose, bird-like, from some hidden place,?He did not even turn his face -?It struck him simply as a noise.
He trod the old paths up and down.
Their rich-hued leaves by Fall winds whirled -?How dull they were--how dull the world -?Dull even in the pulsing town.
O! worst of punishments, that brings
A blunting of all finer sense,?A loss of feelings keen, intense,?And dulls us to the higher things.
O! penalty most dire, most sure,
Swift following after gross delights,?That we no more see beauteous sights,?Or hear as hear the good and