Poems of the Heart and Home | Page 9

tearful night, And beside a lonely river That went darkly rushing by Parted we--but not forever-- My brother James and I!
Not forever! not forever! Though the stream is dark and wide He is beck'ning to me ever From the sun lit, summer side, There the glory fadeth never, And I know that by and by We shall tread that shore together-- My brother James and I!

IDLE
"Work to-day in my vineyard!"
Hast thou, then, been called to labor In the vineyard of thy Lord, With the promise that, if faithful, Thou shall win a sure reward?-- Look! the tireless sun is hasting Toward the zenith, and the day, Which in vanity thou'rt wasting, Speedeth rapidly away!
Lo! the field is white for harvest, And the laborers are few; Canst thou, then, oh, slothful servant! Find no work that thou canst do? Sitting idle in the vineyard! Sleeping, while the noon-day flies! Dreaming, while with every pulse-beat Some unsaved one droops and dies!
Waken! overburdened lab'rers, Fainting in the sultry ray, Cry against thee to the Master As thou dream'st the hours away Waken! patient angels bearing Home Earth's harvest, grieving see One by one the bright hours waning, And no sheaf secured by thee!
And at last, when toil is ended, And the blessed "Harvest home," By exulting angels chanted, Cheers the lab'rers as they come, What wilt thou do, slothful servant, With no gathered sheaf to bring? How canst thou stand, empty-handed, In the presence of thy King?
Lo! the field is white for harvest, And the laborers are few; Canst thou, then, oh, slothful servant. Find no work that thou canst do? Angels wait to bear the tidings Of some good that thou hast done; Then, to patient, earnest labor, Waken, ere the set of sun!

THE WORLD'S DAY.
Dark was the world when from the bowers Of forfeit Eden man went forth, With aching heart and blighted powers, To till the sterile soil of earth; Yet, even then, a glimmering light Faintly illumed the eastern skies, And, struggling through the mists of night, Beamed soft on Abel's sacrifice.
It shone on Abram's eager eyes Upon Moriah's lonely height, And Jacob, 'neath the midnight skies, In hallowed dreams beheld its light; And o'er Arabia's desert sand Where weary Israel wandered on, In doubt and fear toward Canaan's land, The hallowed dawning brighter shone.
Ages roll on 'mid deep'ning day, And prophet-bard and holy seer Watch eagerly the kindling ray, To see the blessed sun appear-- Watch, till along the mountain-heights The long-expected radiance streams, _And lo! a bloody Cross it lights, And o'er a blood-stained victim gleams!_
And higher climbed the rising sun, And brighter glowed the joyous day, And Earth the bowed and weary one Kindled beneath the blessed ray A little while--then, dense and drear, Back rolled the heavy clouds of night, Till through the murky atmosphere Scarce stole a single gleam of light
Then Superstition piled her fires With slaughtered saints,--and dungeons lone Echoed the tortured victims' prayers, The stifled shriek, the smothered groan: Yet ever, Truth, through blood and tears, Pursued her dark, tempestuous way, And Faith illumed those stormy years, With promises of brighter day.
It came at last--through parted clouds The blessed sunlight burst once more, And a broad flood of glory swept O'er vale and plain, o'er sea and shore; Earth, from her wildering dream of tears, And blood and anguish, guilt and wrong-- The long, dark, troubled dream of years-- Awoke, and once again was strong.
Then crumbled thrones--then empires fell, As Science, Freedom, Truth, arose, And, shaking off their numbing spell, Closed in stern conflict with their foes: And onward still, with unbowed head, Faith's dauntless legions held their way, Marking with heaps of martyred dead The pathway that behind them lay.
And still that steady march is on, Through storm and gloom, through strife and tears. Still Faith points upward to the sun Whose glories brighten with the years-- Whose steady light and heat at length Shall scatter every cloud away, And Truth, majestic in her strength, Shall stand complete in perfect day.

BRETHREN, GO!
A VALEDICTION.
Brethren, go! the day is bright'ning As the sultry noon steals on, And the fields, already whit'ning, Tell of labor to be done.
There are toilsome days before you, Burdens that you may not shun, Clouds will gather darkly o'er you, Reeds will fail you one by one.
Yet go forth to strong endeavor, 'Neath the shadow of the cross; He who calls will leave you never,-- Never let you suffer loss!
Go; the voices of the dying Float on every passing breeze; Tones of wild, imploring crying Come from lands beyond the seas!
Go where pain and sorrow languish, Go where Sin works strife and woe, Cleanse Earth's stain, and heal her anguish, Jesus calls you--brethren, go!

OUR NATION'S BIRTHDAY.
JULY 1ST, 1867.
Ring out your glad peals of rejoicing! Wake Music's enlivening strain! Let