O holy Light and Love!
Beam on my soul,
My inmost soul control:
Then may each pure thought spring;
And peace, with gentle wing,
Brood like the dove.
HEN the twilight shadows gather
In my home, and round my door
And the voices of the daytime
All are hushed, and mar no more,
Then I hear the children's voices
Making music as of yore;
See their merry, laughing faces,
Hear their footsteps on the floor,
Footsteps hushed for evermore.
All those little feet are resting
From the weary march of life,
Ne'er to bleed in stony pathways,
Ne'er to war in mortal strife:
Little hands, all meekly folded,
By the tender shepherd led,
He will "bear them in his bosom,"
Loved and warmed and gently fed:
"Suffer them to come," he said.
And they obeyed: my darling ones
Have left earth's fading flowers,
To carol forth their joyous songs
In heaven's eternal bowers;
And I will hope, and trusting wait
Till I hear the boatman's oar
Approach, to bear my spirit home
To them on the shining shore,
To live and love for evermore.
LOOK up, my darling! The way seems
And storm-clouds are thick in the sky; But the glorious sun is shining beyond,
And will break through the gloom by and by.
We trusted in God when the world seemed fair
And flowers were bright round our way:
We rested content with his bountiful gifts,—
Shall we trust in him less to-day?
What precious blessings in by-gone years
Have fallen upon each head!
What blossoms of love, in radiant bloom,
Their perfume have round us shed!
Shall we who have tasted God's wondrous love
Repine at his holy will?
Shall we receive good at our Father's hand,
And murmur at every ill ?
Not always the glorious sunlight streams
Over the fruitful plain :
The clouds will come, and the rain must fall, Else all of our toil were vain :
So sunlight and shadow, night and day,
Are mingled through all our years;
And the richest plants of our soil spring up
And blossoms 'mid clouds and tears.
Then trust in the Lord! for his ceaseless love Will order all things aright;
And peace will spring from the bitterest grief, As day springeth out from the night.
T was summer where she was going:
And a muslin white and thin,
With dainty hems, was chosen
For the sweet to journey in :
Silken lace for her wee white arms
And her little shoulder-bands,
And immortelles, so pure and sweet,
For her precious, precious hands!
And oh the baby's journey,
What a gladsome time she had!
What flowers bloomed bright about her
What music that made her glad!
What loving hands that led her,
What tender eyes that smiled,
What joyous welcomes everywhere,
'Waited the darling child!
THE BABY'S JOURNEY.
We know that the baby's journey
Led first through the valley dim;
But the loving Christ was with her,
And we trusted it all to him :
And we know that the royal lilies,
That lean o'er that restless tide
For ever, are bright with the glory
That's just on the other side.
O little precious wanderer!
We know that your baby feet
Have passed the mystic boundaries
Where the earthly and heavenly meet;
Forgotten our good-by kisses,
Forgotten our passionate tears,
In the beauty and light and glory
That met you beyond the stars,
No pain for the brow Death kisses,
No tears for the bright eyes to weep:
She hath passed from our caresses
To those far more tender and deep.
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