die;”
The dumb stars glittered no reply.
Broken at last, I bowed my head,
Forgetting all myself, and said,
“Whatever comes, His will be done;”
And in that moment peace was won.
Chant of the Northmen at the Thunder-Oak
O Thor, the Thunderer,
Mighty and merciless,
Spare us from smiting!
Heave not thy hammer,
Angry, against us;
Plague not thy people.
Take from our treasure
Richest of ransom.
Silver we send thee,
Jewels and javelins,
Goodliest garments,
All our possessions,
Priceless, we proffer.
Sheep will we slaughter,
Steeds will we sacrifice;
Bright blood shall bathe thee,
O tree of Thunder,
Life-floods shall lave thee,
Strong wood of wonder.
Mighty, have mercy,
Smite us no more,
Spare us and save us,
Spare us, Thor! Thor!
Chant of the Magi at the Fire-Altar
We worship the Spirit Divine,
all wisdom and goodness possessing,
Surrounded by Holy Immortals,
the givers of bounty and blessing.
We joy in the works of His hands,
His truth and His power confessing.
We praise all the things that are pure,
for these are His only Creation;
The thoughts that are true, and the words
and deeds that have won approbation;
These are supported by Him,
and for these we make adoration.
Hear us, O Mazda! Thou livest
in truth and in heavenly gladness;
Cleanse us from falsehood, and keep us
from evil and bondage to badness;
Pour out the light and the joy of Thy life
on our darkness and sadness.
Shine on our gardens and fields,
Shine on our working and weaving;
Shine on the whole race of man,
Believing and unbelieving;
Shine on us now through the night,
Shine on us now in Thy might,
The flame of our holy love
and the song of our worship receiving.
Song of a Pilgrim-Soul
March on, my soul, nor like a laggard stay!
March swiftly on. Yet err not from the way
Where all the nobly wise of old have trod—
The path of faith, made by the sons of God.
Follow the marks that they have set beside
The narrow, cloud-swept track, to be thy guide:
Follow, and honour what the past has gained,
And forward still, that more may be attained.
Something to learn, and something to forget:
Hold fast the good, and seek the better yet:
Press on, and prove the pilgrim-hope of youth:
The Creeds are milestones on the road to Truth.
A Babe Among the Stars
When I beheld the splendour of the night,
And all the misty myriad of her stars,
Forever swinging on their paths of light,
Far out beyond our system’s narrow bars,
I marvelled that the glory of God’s birth
Had fallen only on this little earth.
Infinite condescension, that could raise
The least to be most blessed. God can bring
Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings praise.
This late-born infant of the sky shall sing
A music sweeter than her sister spheres;
Incarnate love, while heaven in wonder hears.
To the Child Jesus
Could every time-worn heart but see Thee once again,
A happy human child, among the homes of men,
The age of doubt would pass—the vision of Thy face
Would silently restore the childhood of the race.
Thou wayfaring Jesus, a pilgrim and stranger,
Exiled from heaven by love at thy birth,
Exiled again from thy rest in the manger,
A fugitive child ’mid the perils of earth—
Cheer with thy fellowship all who are weary,
Wandering far from the land that they love;
Guide every heart that is homeless and dreary,
Safe to its home in thy presence above.
The Bargain
What shall I give for thee,
Thou Pearl of greatest price?
For all the treasures I possess
Would not suffice.
I give my store of gold;
It is but earthly dross:
But thou wilt make me rich, beyond
All fear of loss.
Mine honours I resign;
They are but small at best:
Thou like a royal star wilt shine
Upon my breast.
My worldly joys I give,
The flowers with which I played;
Thy beauty, far more heavenly fair,
Shall never fade.
Dear Lord, is that enough?
Nay, not a thousandth part.
Well, then, I have but one thing more:
Take Thou my heart.
The Master’s Voice
When days are dark and nights are cold,
And all the world seems going wrong;
When fears are fresh, and hopes grow old,
And die because they’ve waited long;
When all is sad without, within,
And I am plagued with doubt and sin,
Yet have I comfort, and rejoice
If I can hear the Master’s voice.
Come unto Me, thou child distressed;
Come, find a refuge on My breast;
Lay down thy burden, and have rest.
When clouds are thick, and winds are loud,
And angry waters rising fast,
With many leaping waves that crowd
To overwhelm my boat at last;
When all my chance of life seems lost,
Though far astray and tempest-tossed,
Yet have I courage, and rejoice
If I can hear the Master’s voice.
Be not afraid; ’tis I that stand,
In every danger, near at hand.
The winds are still at My command.
When earthly voices, once so dear,
Have died in silence, one by one,
Till I am left to mourn them here
With empty heart, and all alone;
When sorrow from the gates of death
Breathes on my cheek her icy breath;
Yet have I peace, and can rejoice
If I but hear the Master’s voice.
A little while; wait patiently.
A little while, and thou shalt be
With thy beloved, and with Me.
Bitter-Sweet
Just to give up, and trust
All to a Fate unknown,
Plodding along life’s road in the dust,
Bounded by walls of stone;
Never to have a heart at peace;
Never to see when care will cease;
Just to be still when sorrows fall—
This is the bitterest lesson of all.
Just to give up, and rest
All on a Love secure,
Out of a world that’s hard at the best,
Looking to heaven as sure;
Ever to hope, through cloud and fear,
In darkest night, that the dawn is near;
Just to wait at the Master’s feet—
Surely, now, the bitter is sweet.
The Way
Who seeks for heaven alone to save his soul,
May keep the path, but will not reach the
