Poetry

I shall know as I am known;
Know thee my father, every hour and day,
As thou know’st me thine own!

Blind Sorrow

“My life is drear; walking I labour sore;
The heart in me is heavy as a stone;
And of my sorrows this the icy core:
Life is so wide, and I am all alone!”

Thou did’st walk so, with heaven-born eyes down bent
Upon the earth’s gold-rosy, radiant clay,
That thou had’st seen no star in all God’s tent
Had not thy tears made pools first on the way.

Ah, little knowest thou the tender care
In a love-plenteous cloak around thee thrown!
Full many a dim-seen, saving mountain-stair
Toiling thou climb’st⁠—but not one step alone!

Lift but thy languid head and see thy guide;
Let thy steps go in his, nor choose thine own;
Then soon wilt thou, thine eyes with wonder wide,
Cry, “Now I know I never was alone!”

Angels

Came of old to houses lonely
Men with wings, but did not show them:
Angels come to our house, only,
For their wings, they do not know them!

The Father’s Worshippers

’Tis we, not in thine arms, who weep and pray;
The children in thy bosom laugh and play.

A Birthday-Wish

Who know thee, love: thy life be such
That, ere the year be o’er,
Each one who loves thee now so much,
Even God, may love thee more!

To Any One

Go not forth to call Dame Sorrow
From the dim fields of Tomorrow;
Let her roam there all unheeded,
She will come when she is needed;
Then, when she draws near thy door,
She will find God there before.

Waiting

Lie, little cow, and chew thy cud,
The farmer soon will shift thy tether;
Chirp, linnet, on the frozen mud,
Sun and song will come together;
Wait, soul, for God, and thou shalt bud,
He waits thy waiting with his weather.

Lost but Safe

Lost the little one roams about,
Pathway or shelter none can find;
Blinking stars are coming out;
No one is moving but the wind;
It is no use to cry or shout,
All the world is still as a mouse;
One thing only eases her mind:
“Father knows I’m not in the house!”

Much and More

When thy heart, love-filled, grows graver,
And eternal bliss looks nearer,
Ask thy heart, nor show it favour,
Is the gift or giver dearer?

Love, love on; love higher, deeper;
Let love’s ocean close above her;
Only, love thou more love’s keeper,
More, the love-creating lover.

Hope and Patience

An unborn bird lies crumpled and curled,
A-dreaming of the world.

Round it, for castle-wall, a shell
Is guarding it well.

Hope is the bird with its dim sensations;
The shell that keeps it alive is Patience.

A Better Thing

I took it for a bird of prey that soared
High over ocean, battled mount, and plain;
’Twas but a bird-moth, which with limp horns gored
The invisibly obstructing window-pane!

Better than eagle, with far-towering nerve
But downward bent, greedy, marauding eye,
Guest of the flowers, thou art: unhurt they serve
Thee, little angel of a lower sky!

A Prisoner

The hinges are so rusty
The door is fixed and fast;
The windows are so dusty
The sun looks in aghast:
Knock out the glass, I pray,
Or dash the door away,
Or break the house down bodily,
And let my soul go free!

To My Lord and Master

Imagination cannot rise above thee;
Near and afar I see thee, and I love thee;
My misery away from me I thrust it,
For thy perfection I behold, and trust it.

To One Unsatisfied

When, with all the loved around thee,
Still thy heart says, “I am lonely,”
It is well; the truth hath found thee:
Rest is with the Father only.

To My God

Oh how oft I wake and find
I have been forgetting thee!
I am never from thy mind:
Thou it is that wakest me.

Triolet

Oh that men would praise the Lord
For his goodness unto men!
Forth he sends his saving word,
—Oh that men would praise the Lord!⁠—
And from shades of death abhorred
Lifts them up to light again:
Oh that men would praise the Lord
For his goodness unto men!

The Word of God

Where the bud has never blown
Who for scent is debtor?
Where the spirit rests unknown
Fatal is the letter.

In thee, Jesus, Godhead-stored,
All things we inherit,
For thou art the very Word
And the very Spirit!

To the Life Eternal

Thou art my thought, my heart, my being’s fortune,
The search for thee my growth’s first conscious date;
For nought, for everything, I thee importune;
Thou art my all, my origin and fate!

Hope Deferred

“Where is thy crown, O tree of Love?
Flowers only bears thy root!
Will never rain drop from above
Divine enough for fruit?”

“I dwell in hope that gives good cheer,
Twilight my darkest hour;
For seest thou not that every year
I break in better flower?”

Forgiveness

God gives his child upon his slate a sum⁠—
To find eternity in hours and years;
With both sides covered, back the child doth come,
His dim eyes swollen with shed and unshed tears;
God smiles, wipes clean the upper side and nether,
And says, “Now, dear, we’ll do the sum together!”

Dejection

O Father, I am in the dark,
My soul is heavy-bowed:
I send my prayer up like a lark,
Up through my vapoury shroud,
To find thee,
And remind thee
I am thy child, and thou my father,
Though round me death itself should gather.

Lay thy loved hand upon my head,
Let thy heart beat in mine;
One thought from thee, when all seems dead,
Will make the darkness shine
About me
And throughout me!
And should again the dull night gather,
I’ll cry again, “Thou art my father.”

Appeal

If in my arms I