Verses and Rhymes By the Way Part 10

BAPTISM IN LAKE ALLUMETTE

Oh Allumette, hemmed with thy fringe of pine, Watched over by thy mountains far away, Thy waters have been troubled oftentime, Never before as they have been to day!

The red man on the war path, with light stroke, Hath cleaved thy waters moving stealthily; Hunter and hunted deer thy surface broke With splash and struggle of the living prey.

Across thy bosom venturous Champlain And faithful Brule have pursued their way; Seeking for distant golden Indian vain Finding Coulonge while searching for Cathay

The knights of industry the sons of toil, Trouble thy waters in the eager strife To win success and wealth, the glittering spoil For which men daily peril more than life

'Twas a new motive from their homes to day That drew an eager wondering people out, Like those who from Mount Zion took their way, From Judah and the regions round about

It might have been the Jordan flowed along Or that, sweet stream where people met for prayer, Still expectation held the gathering throng By the lake sh.o.r.e, in the hushed Sabbath air

And earnest, fervent pleading prayer was made Rose the sweet strains of the old Scottish psalm And words of witness for G.o.d's truth were said, The only sound that broke the sacred calm

Then down into the waters of the lake, The preacher and believer slowly came, Not heeding scornful words for His dear sake, Who bore the cross for us despised the shame

Buried with Him by baptism to death Following the path which He the Sa lour trod, To rise with Him to that new life He saith He hath laid up for us with Christ in G.o.d

GOOD-BYE.

(To Miss E E.)

I cannot write, my tears are flowing fast, Yet weeping is unnatural to me; Oh! that this hour of bitterness was past-- The parting hour with all I love and thee

If I had never met or loved thee so, To part would not have caused me this sharp pain; Parting so oft occurring here below, And they who part so seldom meet again.

Yet over land or sea, where'er I go, My home, my friends, shall flit before my eyes-- And oft I anxiously shall wish to know, If in thy bosom thoughts of me arise.

Oh, I will think of bygone days of glee, Though on each point of bitter sorrow driven; I will not bid thee to remember me, But oh! see to it that we meet in Heaven.

1844.

WEEP WITH THOSE WHO WEEP.

(Mary Maud.)

O friends, I cannot comfort, but will share with you your grieving, In the valley of the shadow where you sit in helpless tears; Greater is the parting anguish, than the joy of first receiving The sweet gift that was your treasure through five happy, golden years

When I laid within your arms the dear babe that G.o.d had given, There was hidden in the future all the tears that you must weep, Ah! the little ones so tangled in our heart-strings, they are riven In the parting, are but treasures lent not given us to keep

There's silence in the places her voice filled with happy laughter, Stillness waiting for the echo of the patter of her feet, You are gazing on her picture, and your heart is longing after The tender touch of the little hands, the mouth that was most sweet

In the valley of the shadow, where by G.o.d's will you are sitting, Earthly sounds shut out and stilled, yea, and heaven so very near, That the little golden head, through the open doorway flitting, Might come smiling any moment and be greeted without fear

With earthly toil and serving we will not get enc.u.mbered, Our hearts rise to our treasures that are laid up with the King, There your little maiden, Maud, with His jewels fair are numbered, There she learns the songs of gladness that the heavenly children sing

Among those pure and precious who have known no earthly sinning, The Beloved's fair white lilies in the Paradise of G.o.d, Those He looked upon and loved, when their lives were but beginning, And brought home before their tender feet grew weary of the road

There clothed on with his beauty, round the child all bliss will gather, All the brightness of the Father's face when looking on His own; For the little children's angels see the bright face of the Father, And gather on the rainbow steps that are around the throne.

For evermore in safety, by the Lamb led to the valleys, Where the light of G.o.d is brooding, and life's storms are ever furled; No more watching, no more praying, no more guarding from the malice Of all evil, lest her garments should be spotted by the world.

Heaven draws nearer in our sorrow, and the earth-born cares keep silence, And the still, small voice says kindly, "Though the child may come no more, Time is pa.s.sing, and the moment approaches from the distance, When the message to come after will appear within the door."

Oh, well it is for baby, safe, and past all toil and grieving, The dear head is laid so early on a loving Saviour's breast; Be not faithless, oh my friends, but submissive and believing, The Hand that makes no blunders hath laid the babe at rest

TO ELIZABETH RAY

First of women, best of friends Take what a village rhymer sends, A tear wet trifle sent to tell The giver must bid thee farewell!

And shall I then when o'er the sea Forget thee? No, it cannot be When thinking of much loved Grace Hill, [1] Its drops of joy, its drafts of ill I shed the fond regretting tear, For those I did I do hold dear, First shall mid those I parted with Stand Friends.h.i.+p's Ray Elizabeth

[Footnote 1: Burns]

1844

FAREWELL TO LORD AND LADY DUFFERIN

In leaving us, whom thou hast governed well Holding the helm of state through all these years The land at large unites in a farewell That's mingled with regret akin to tears

My Lord, we welcomed you in coming here As one our gracious Queen thought fit to send Your term of office hath so made you dear We say farewell to you as friend to friend

It is not homage paid to honours worn Lightly, as that which comes to one unsought; Nor to thy high desent, oh n.o.bly born Nor to the aristocracy of thought.

And yet we do not undervalue here Honours the n.o.bles of our land enjoy; We hold in high esteem the British Peer, Warm to the ancient name of Clandeboye.

Warmly we feel to one who is akin To that most marvellous genius Sheridan; But warmer still the tribute that you win, Paid, not to Lord, or Viceroy, to the man,

Who of no party, yet both far and near, In distant wilderness and crowded mart, With words that rouse and stimulate and cheer, Has drawn the whole Dominion to your heart.