The May Flower, and Miscellaneous Writings Part 48

The world knew not the tender, serious maiden, Who, through deep loving years so silent grew, Filled with high thoughts and holy aspirations, Which, save thy Father, G.o.d's, no eye might view.

And then it came, that message from the Highest, Such as to woman ne'er before descended; Th' almighty shadowing wings thy soul o'erspread, And with thy life the Life of worlds was blended.

What visions, then, of future glory filled thee, Mother of King and kingdom yet unknown-- Mother, fulfiller of all prophecy, Which through dim ages wondering seers had shown!

Well did thy dark eye kindle, thy deep soul Rise into billows, and thy heart rejoice; Then woke the poet's fire, the prophet's song Tuned with strange, burning words thy timid voice.

Then in dark contrast came the lowly manger, The outcast shed, the tramp of brutal feet; Again, behold earth's learned, and her lowly, Sages and shepherds, prostrate at thy feet.

Then to the temple bearing, hark! again What strange, conflicting tones of prophecy Breathe o'er the Child, foreshadowing words of joy, High triumph, and yet bitter agony.

O, highly favored thou, in many an hour Spent in lone musing with thy wondrous Son, When thou didst gaze into that glorious eye, And hold that mighty hand within thy own.

Blessed through those thirty years, when in thy dwelling He lived a G.o.d disguised, with unknown power, And thou, his sole adorer,--his best love,-- Trusting, revering, waitedst for his hour.

Blessed in that hour, when called by opening heaven With cloud, and voice, and the baptizing flame, Up from the Jordan walked th' acknowledged stranger, And awe-struck crowds grew silent as he came.

Blessed, when full of grace, with glory crowned, He from both hands almighty favors poured, And, though he had not where to lay his head, Brought to his feet alike the slave and lord.

Crowds followed; thousands shouted, "Lo, our King!"

Fast beat thy heart; now, now the hour draws nigh: Behold the crown--the throne! the nations bend.

Ah, no! fond mother, no! behold him die.

Now by that cross thou tak'st thy final station, And shar'st the last dark trial of thy Son; Not with weak tears or woman's lamentation, But with high, silent anguish, like his own.

Hail, highly favored, even in this deep pa.s.sion, Hail, in this bitter anguish--thou art blest-- Blest in the holy power with him to suffer Those deep death pangs that lead to higher rest.

All now is darkness; and in that deep stillness The G.o.d-man wrestles with that mighty woe; Hark to that cry, the rock of ages rending-- "'Tis finished!" Mother, all is glory now!

By sufferings mighty as his mighty soul Hath the Jehovah risen--forever blest; And through all ages must his heart-beloved Through the same baptism enter the same rest.

CHRISTIAN PEACE.

"Thou shalt hide them in the secret of thy presence from the pride of man; thou shalt keep them secretly as in a pavilion from the strife of tongues."

When winds are raging o'er the upper ocean, And billows wild contend with angry roar, 'Tis said, far down beneath the wild commotion, That peaceful _stillness_ reigneth evermore.

Far, far beneath, the noise of tempest dieth, And silver waves chime ever peacefully, And no rude storm, how fierce soe'er he flieth, Disturbs the Sabbath of that deeper sea.

So to the heart that knows thy love, O Purest, There is a temple, sacred evermore, And all the babble of life's angry voices Die in hushed stillness at its peaceful door.

Far, far away, the roar of pa.s.sion dieth, And loving thoughts rise calm and peacefully, And no rude storm, how fierce soe'er he flieth, Disturbs the soul that dwells, O Lord, in thee.

O, rest of rests! O, peace serene, eternal!

THOU ever livest; and thou changest never; And in the _secret of thy presence_ dwelleth Fulness of joy--forever and forever.

ABIDE IN ME AND I IN YOU.

THE SOUL'S ANSWER.

That mystic word of thine, O sovereign Lord, Is all too pure, too high, too deep for me; Weary of striving, and with longing faint, I breathe it back again in _prayer_ to thee.

Abide in me, I pray, and I in thee; From this good hour, O, leave me nevermore; Then shall the discord cease, the wound be healed, The lifelong bleeding of the soul be o'er.

Abide in me--o'ershadow by thy love Each half-formed purpose and dark thought of sin; Quench, e'er it rise, each selfish, low desire, And keep my soul as thine, calm and divine.

As some rare perfume in a vase of clay Pervades it with a fragrance not its own, So, when thou dwellest in a mortal soul, All heaven's own sweetness seems around it thrown.

The soul alone, like a neglected harp, Grows out of tune, and needs a hand divine; Dwell thou within it, tune, and touch the chords, Till every note and string shall answer thine.

_Abide in me_; there have been moments pure When I have seen thy face and felt thy power; Then evil lost its grasp, and pa.s.sion, hushed, Owned the divine enchantment of the hour.

These were but seasons beautiful and rare; "Abide in me,"--and they shall _ever be_; Fulfil at once thy precept and my prayer-- _Come_ and _abide_ in me, and I in thee.

WHEN I AWAKE I AM STILL WITH THEE.

Still, still with thee, when purple morning breaketh, When the bird waketh and the shadows flee; Fairer than morning, lovelier than the daylight, Dawns the sweet consciousness, _I am with thee_!

Alone with thee, amid the mystic shadows, The solemn hush of nature newly born; Alone with thee in breathless adoration, In the calm dew and freshness of the morn.

As in the dawning o'er the waveless ocean The image of the morning star doth rest, So in this stillness thou beholdest only Thine image in the waters of my breast.

Still, still with thee! as to each new-born morning A fresh and solemn splendor still is given, So doth this blessed consciousness, awaking, Breathe, each day, nearness unto thee and heaven.

When sinks the soul, subdued by toil, to slumber, Its closing eye looks up to thee in prayer, Sweet the repose beneath thy wings o'ershading, But sweeter still to wake and find thee there.

So shall it be at last, in that bright morning When the soul waketh and life's shadows flee; O, in that hour, fairer than daylight dawning, Shall rise the glorious thought, _I am with thee_!

CHRIST'S VOICE IN THE SOUL.

"Come ye yourselves into a desert place and rest a while; for there were many coming and going, so that they had no time so much as to eat."