The Mountain Spring And Other Poems | Page 7

earth.
This the song the angels sang:
"Peace on earth, good will to men."

Glory in the highest rang,
Glory now and glory then.
Christ, the
king of earth and heaven,
Gave himself to cleanse our sin;
Through
his blood we are forgiven
And eternal life may win.
Come to him with every woe;
He has said, "Come unto me."
Better
refuge none can know
Whither to safely, gladly flee.
Well may
hallelujahs ring
O'er God's gift from heaven above;
Yet, although
the angels sing,
Angels cannot tell his love.
NATURE'S LESSON
We traveled by a mountain's edge,
It was September calm and bright,

Nature had decked its rocky ledge
With flowers of varied hue and
height.
It seemed a miracle that they
Should flourish in that meager
soil,
As noble spirits oftenest may
Gleam forth through poverty and
toil.
Below were rippling, sparkling streams
Through meadows kissed by
shadowy hills,
Reflecting autumn's peaceful dreams
Within those
swift, translucent rills.
This lesson should these scenes impart

As on
the road of life we go,
To do our duty and take heart,
As flowers

bloom and streamlets flow.
Perhaps in ages yet to be
May flowers wave here e'en as today,

These streams still rush in merry glee
To cheer and charm who here
may stray;
But we upon Time's rapid tide
Like morning mists will
disappear;
But if by faith to Christ allied,
Heaven's glory is both
sure and clear.
We look from Nature to her God;
We feel his presence from above;

We know that when the earth he trod,
He preached through her his
wondrous love.
What is there in our flitting years
With this pure
treasure can compare?
His love can wipe away our tears,
His love
can lighten every care.
THE MIGRATORY SWANS
A necklace in the depth of blue
Of scintillating, silvery pearls,

Which peering eagerly we view
As gracefully it curves and whirls,

Safely and swiftly, far away
They seek the groves of date and lime;

Naught can arrest and naught dismay
From heights so lofty and
sublime.
In dreams alone their wintry home
Can haunt them with its ice and
snow;
Mingled with visions as they come
Of shimmering waves
where lilies grow
And open lakes are fresh and clear,
Fit mirror for
a plumaged breast,
Shaded by moss-grown trees. 'Tis here
They'll
dip and dive in gleeful rest.
Vanished! and vainly do we try
To trace upon the distant air
That
scroll which written on the sky
Told of the hand which led them there.

Could we upon our heavenward way
From tempting snares as far
remove
And be as disenthralled as they,
We'd plainer show a
guiding love.
We skim too closely to the earth,
We press too slowly for the prize,


Let thoughts and cares of trivial worth
Retard our journey to the skies.

Oh, let us watch and pray to have
A loftier flight from transient
things,
Inspired like swans at last to lave
In streams of bliss our
wearied wings!
MINISTERING WOMEN
_And Joanna, the wife of Chuza, Herod's steward, and Susanna and
many others who ministered unto him of their substance._--Luke 8:3.
Mark 14:3-9. John 12:3-8. Matthew 26:6-13. Luke 7:37-50. John 11:3.
Those women who their Christ and Lord
Aided by gentle ministry,

Have gained their race a rich reward,
Treasured in sacred history.
Joanna is unknown at court,
Although entitled to be there;
The
record of her life's report
In fadeless glory has its share.
Susanna's name is intertwined,
A gem as sparkling and as clear
As
those with which it is enshrined;
And this is all we know of her.
And those whose names have not been given
Are now in realms of
light and love,
Praising him mid the choirs of heaven,
Crowned
with his joy and peace and love.
Mary of Magdala was brought
From mysteries strange and dark and
drear
To heights with joy and gladness fraught;
She radiates a luster
clear.
Those chimes from Bethany will ring
With power that will not,
cannot die;
Martha's and Mary's names will sing
Long as the flitting
centuries fly.
That spikenard, which 'twas wholly meet
Mary should pour upon his
head,
Has filled with fragrance rare and sweet
Succeeding ages as
they've fled.

And when a critic standing near
Censured her act, misunderstood,

Christ spoke so that the world might hear;
He said, "She hath done
what she could."
This her memorial while the sun
Traverses the blue dome of heaven,

Fulfilling while time's cycles run
Christ's prophecy which then was
given.
Unto the end these faithful few,
Regardless of all pain and loss,
Did
what their hearts and hands could do,
Though bowed with wonder at
the cross.
Such love they could not understand,
Such love unto his latest breath;

That love had our redemption planned
Both in his life and in his
death.
They haunt the tomb in which he lay,
Grief-stricken, desolate, and
lone;
But Magdalene at break of day
Found that her precious charge
was gone.
Two angels said, "Why weepest thou?"
The angels knew ere they
inquired.
They knew her heart could triumph now,
These sinless
ones by love inspired.
She, weeping, told her loss and woe,
Then answered thus a questioner
near:
"Sir, if thou dost his refuge know,
Tell me. I seek him vainly
here."
"Mary!" She listened to her name
Uttered by Christ, her risen Lord.

"Master?" her trembling lips exclaim,
Then wondered, worshipped,
and adored.
Her joy is ours! Oh, may we