The Verse-Book Of A Homely Woman | Page 5

eye,
These tiresome things will all
go by!
And, 'tis a curious thing, but Jane
Is sure, just then, to smile again;

Or, out the truant sun will peep,
And both the babies fall asleep.

The fire burns up with roar sublime,
And butcher's man is just in time.

And oh! My feeble faith grows strong
Sometimes, when
everything goes wrong!
The Daily Interview
Such a sensation Sunday's preacher
made.
"Christian!" he cried, "what is your stockin
-trade?
Alas! Too often nil. No time to pray;
No interview with
Christ from day to day,
A hurried prayer, maybe, just gabbled

through;
A random text -- for any one will do."
Then gently,
lovingly, with look intense,
He leaned towards us --
"Is this
common sense?
No person in his rightful mind will try
To run his
business so, lest by-and-by
The thing collapses, smirching his good
name,
And he, insolvent, face the world with
shame."
I heard it all; and something inly said
That all was true. The daily toil
and press
Had crowded out my hopes of holiness.
Still, my old self
rose, reasoning:
How can you,
With strenuous work to do --
Real
slogging work -- say, how can you
keep pace
With leisured folks? Why, you could
grow in grace
If you had time . . . the daily Interview
Was never
meant for those who wash and
bake.
But yet a small Voice whispered:
"For My sake
Keep tryst with Me!

There are so many minutes in a day,
So spare Me ten.
It shall be
proven, then,
Ten minutes set apart can well repay
You shall
accomplish more
If you will shut your door
For ten short minutes
just to watch and
pray."
"Lord, if I do
Set ten apart for You"
(I dared, yes dared, to reason
thus with
Him)
"The baker's sure to come;
Or Jane will call
To say some
visitor is in the hall;
Or I shall smell the porridge burning, yes,
And
run to stop it in my hastiness.
There's not ten minutes, Lord, in all the
day
I can be sure of peace in which to watch

and pray."
But all that night,
With calm insistent might,
That gentle Voice
spake softly, lovingly --
"Keep tryst with Me!
You have devised a
dozen different ways
Of getting easy meals on washing days;
You
spend much anxious thought on
hopeless socks;
On moving ironmould from tiny frocks;
'Twas you
who found
A way to make the sugar lumps go round;
You, who
invented ways and means of
making
Nice spicy buns for tea, hot from the baking,
When
margarine was short . . . and cannot
you
Who made the time to join the butter queue
Make time again
for Me?
Yes, will you not, with all your daily
striving,
Use woman's wit in scheming and contriving
To keep that tryst with Me?"
Like ice long bound
On powdered frosty ground,
My erring will all
suddenly gave way.
The kind soft wind of His sweet pleading
blew,
And swiftly, silently, before I knew,
The warm love loosed
and ran.
Life-giving floods began,
And so most lovingly I answered
Him:
"Lord, yes, I will, and can.
I will keep tryst with Thee, Lord,
come
what may!"
ENVOY.
It is a wondrous and surprising thing
How that ten minutes takes the
piercing
sting
From vexing circumstance and poisonous

dart
Hurled by the enemy straight at my
heart.
So, to the woman tempest-tossed and
tried
By household cares, and hosts of things
beside,
With all my strength God bids me say
to you:
"Dear soul, do try the daily Interview!"
The Little House
One yestereve, in the waning light,
When the wind was still and the
gloaming bright,
There came a breath from a far countrie,
And the
ghost of a Little House called
to me.
"Have you forgotten me?" "No!" I cried.
"Your hall was as narrow as
this is wide,
Your roof was leaky, the rain came
through
Till a ceiling fell, on my new frock too!
"In your parlour flooring a loose board hid,
And wore the carpet, you
know it did!
Your kitchen was small, and the shelves
were few,
While the fireplace smoked -- and you
know it's true!"
The little ghost sighed: "Do you quite
forget
My window boxes of mignonette?
And the sunny room
where you used to
sew
When a great hope came to you, long ago?

"Ah, me! How you used to watch the
door
Where a latch-key turned on the stroke
of four.
And you made the tea, and you poured
it out
From an old brown pot with a broken
spout
"Now, times have changed. And your
footman waits
With the silver urn, and the fluted plates.
But the
little blind Love with the wings,
has flown,
Who used to sit by your warm hearthstone."
The little ghost paused. Then "Away!"
I said.
"Back to your place with the quiet dead.
Back to your place,
lest my servants see,
That the ghost of a Little House calls
to me."
The House-Mother
Across the town the evening bell is
ringing;
Clear comes the call, through kitchen
windows winging!
Lord, knowing Thou art kind,
I heed Thy call to prayer.
I have a
soul to save;
A heart which needs, I think, a double
share
Of sweetnesses which noble ladies crave.
Hope, faith and
diligence, and patient

care,
With meekness, grace, and lowliness of
mind.
Lord, wilt Thou