Poems of the Heart and Home | Page 7

on, the mansion of light That burst through the gloom on his kindling sight, And I'll leave the poor sceptic his lore!-- Let me know only this--_I was lost and undone, But am saved by the blood of the Crucified One_, And I'm wise although knowing no more!

TO A MOTHERLESS BABE.
Why art thou here, little, motherless one,-- Why art thou here in this bleak world alone? With that innocent smile on thy beautiful brow, What hath this stern world for such as thou?
Why art thou here in this world of unrest, Thou that of angels shouldst be the guest?-- Oh, wild are the storms of this wintry clime, Dire are the ills that will meet thee in time! Lamb, with no shelter when tempests are near, Dove, with no resting place, why art thou here?

THE CAGED BIRD'S SONG.
RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED TO HIS PATRONESS AND FRIEND, BY THE LITTLE, BROWN SINGER HIMSELF.
Merrily! Merrily! Tschee! tschee! tschee! What can the meaning of these things be? Tiniest buds and leaflets green-- Who shall tell me what these things mean? Merrily! Merrily! Tschee! tschee! tschee! Much I guess they were meant for me!
Tsu-ert! Tsu-ert! Tschee! tschee! tschee! So I shall eat them up you see Somebody, somewhere, is kindly stirred To think of me, a poor, brown bird!-- Merrily! Merrily! Tschee! tschee! tschee! Somebody, somewhere, thinks of me!
Tsu-ert! Tsu-ert! Tschee! tschee! tschee! "A gentle lady?"--and can it be?-- Say it again, 'tis a pleasant word, _Thinking of me_, your poor, brown bird!-- Merrily! Merrily! Tschee! tschee! tschee! Bless the lady that thinks of me
Tsu-ert! Tsu-ert! Tschee: tschee! tschee! So I shall eat them up, you see! Hi, a nip here! and ho, a nip there! Bless me, mistress, how sweet they are! Merrily! Merrily! Tschee! tschee! tschee! Bless the lady who thinks of me!
Tsu-ert! Tsu-ert! Tschee! tschee! tschee! Merrily, merrily, let it be!-- Hi, a nip here! and ho, a nip there! Over, under, everywhere! Merrily! Merrily! Tschee! tschee! tschee! Somebody, somewhere, thinks of me!

CROSSING THE RED SEA
Before them lay the heaving deep Behind, the foemen pressed; And every face grew dark with fear, And anguish filled each breast Save one, the Leader's, he, serene, Beheld, with dauntless mind, The restless floods before them seen. The foe that pressed behind. "Why hast thou brought us forth for this?" The people loudly cry;-- "Were there no graves in Egypt's land, That here we come to die?" But calm and clear above the din Arose the prophet's word,-- "Stand still! stand still!--and ye shall see The salvation of the Lord!"
"Fear not!--the foes whom now you see, Your eyes no more shall view!-- Peace to your fears!--your fathers' God This day shall fight for you; For Egypt, in her haughty pride And stubbornness abhorred, This day, in bitterness shall learn, Jehovah is the Lord!"
He spake; and o'er the Red Sea's flood He stretched his awful wand, And lo! the startled waves retired, Abashed, on either hand; And like a mighty rampart rose To guard the narrow way Mysterious, that before the hosts Of ransomed Israel lay!
Oh! strange and solemn was the road Which they were called to tread, With myst'ries of the ancient deep Around their footsteps spread,-- With ocean's unknown floor laid bare Before their wondering eyes, And the strange, watery wall that there On either hand did rise!
Yet fearlessly, with steadfast faith, Their Leader led them on; While, from behind, a heavenly light Through the dread passage shone;-- Light for that lone and trembling band Gleamed out with radiance clear, While Egypt's host came groping on Through darkness dense and drear!
'Tis past; and on Arabia's coast The tribes of Israel stand, While fierce and fast Egyptia's host Approach that quiet strand;-- Though darkness, like a funeral pall, Hangs o'er that dreary path, Still on they desperately press In bitterness and wrath.
Then slowly, once again, arose The Hebrew prophet's hand, And o'er the waiting deep outstretched Once more that awful wand;-- The rushing waters closed in might Above that pathway lone, And Pharaoh, in his haughty pride, And all his hosts were gone!
Wail, Egypt, wail!--thy kingly crown Is humbled in the dust! And thou, though late, art forced to own That Israel's God is just! And thou, O Israel, lift thy voice In one triumphant song Of praise to Him in whom alone Thy feeble arm is strong!

THE WAY-SIDE ELM
Standing alone by the highway side, Stately, and stalwart, and tempest-tried, Staunch of body and strong of bough, Fronting the sky with an honest brow, King of the forest and field is he-- Yon way side watcher--the old Elm tree.
When kindly Summer, with smile serene, Drapes branch and bough in her robe of green, Ever the joyous, wild birds come And sing 'mid the clustering leaves at home; Ever the soft winds, to and fro, Steal through the