OME murmur when their sky is clear
And wholly bright to view,
If one small speck of dark appear
In their great heaven of blue:
And some with thankful love are filled
If but one streak of light,
One ray of God's good mercy, gild
The darkness of their night.
In palaces are hearts that ask,
In discontent and pride,
Why life is such a dreary task,
And all good things denied:
And hearts in poorest huts admire
How Love has in their aid
(Love that not ever seems to tire)
Such rich provision made.
SAY to thee-Do thou repeat
To the first man thou mayest meet
In lane, highway, or open street,
That he and we and all men move
Under a canopy of love,
As broad as the blue sky above;
That doubt and trouble, fear and pain, And anguish, all are shadows vain,
That death itself shall not remain ;
That weary deserts we may tread,
A dreary labyrinth may thread,
Through dark ways underground be led ;
Yet, if we will one Guide obey,
The dreariest path, the darkest way,
Shall issue out in heavenly day;
And we, on divers shores now cast,
Shall meet, our perilous voyage past,
All in our Father's house at last.
And ere thou leave him, say thou this: Yet one word more - They only miss The winning of that perfect bliss,
Who will not count it true, that loveBlessing, not cursing, - rules above. And that in it we live and move.
And one thing further make him know:
That to believe these things are so,
This firm faith never to forego,—
Despite of all that seems at strife
With blessing, all with curses rife,
That this is blessing, this is life.
WRITTEN IN FRIARS' CARSE HERMITAGE, ON NITHSIDE
HOU whom chance may hither lead,
The thou clad in russet weed,
Be thou decked in silken stole,
Grave these counsels on thy soul.
Life is but a day at most,
Sprung from night, in darkness lost;
Hope not sunshine every hour,
Fear not clouds will always lower.
As thy day grows warm and high,
Life's meridian flaming nigh,
Dost thou spurn the humble vale?
Life's proud summits wouldst thou scale?
Check thy climbing step elate,
Evils lurk in felon wait:
Dangers, eagle-pinioned, bold,
Soar around each cliffy hold,
While cheerful Peace, with linnet song,
Chants the lowly dells among.
As the shades of evening close,
Beckoning thee to long repose,
As life itself becomes disease,
Seek the chimney-nook of ease,
And teach the sportive young ones round,
Saws of experience, wise and sound.
Say, man's true genuine estimate,
The grand criterion of his fate,
Is not, Art thou high or low?
Did thy fortune ebb or flow?
Did many talents gild thy span,
Or frugal Nature grudge thee one?
Tell them, and press it on their mind,
As thou thyself must shortly find,
The smile or frown of awful Heaven
To Virtue or to Vice is given.
Say, to be just, and kind, and wise,
There solid self-enjoyment lies;
That foolish, selfish, faithless ways,
Lead to be wretched, vile, and base.
Thus, resigned and quiet, creep
To the bed of lasting sleep;
Sleep, whence thou shalt ne'er awake,
Night, where dawn shall never break,
Till future life, future no more,
To light and joy the good restore,
To light and joy unknown before.
Stranger, go! Heaven be thy guide!
Quod the beadsman of Nithside.
EAR yonder copse, where once the garden smiled, And still where many a garden flower grows wild ; There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose, The village preacher's modest mansion rose. A man he was to all the country dear, And passing rich with forty pounds a year. Remote from towns he ran his godly race,
Nor e'er had changed, nor wished to change his place;
Unskilful he to fawn, or look for power,
By doctrines fashioned to the varying hour;
Far other aims his heart had learned to prize,
More bent to raise the wretched than to rise.
His house was known to all the vagrant train,—
He chid their wanderings, but relieved their pain;
The long-remembered beggar was his guest,
Whose beard, descending, swept his aged breast;
The ruined spendthrift, now no longer proud,
Claimed kindred there, and had his wants allowed :
The broken soldier, kindly bade to stay,
Sat by his fire, and talked the night away;
Wept o'er his wounds, or, tales of sorrow done,
Shouldered his crutch, and showed how fields were won.
Pleased with his guests, the good man learnt to glow,
And quite forgot their vices in their woe;
Careless their merits or their wants to scan,
His pity gave, ere charity began.
Thus to relieve the wretched was his pride,
And e'en his failings leaned to virtue's side;
But in his duty prompt, at every call,
He watched and wept, he prayed and felt for all.
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