As we gaze up life's slope, as we gaze
    In the morn, ere the dewdrops are dry,
What splendour hangs over the ways,
    What glory gleams there in the sky,
    What pleasures seem waiting us, high
On the peak of that beauteous slope,
What rainbow-hued colours of hope,
    As we gaze!

As we climb up the hill, as we climb,
    Our hearts, our illusions, are rent:
For Fate, who is spouse of old Time,
    Is jealous of youth and content.
    With brows that are brooding and bent
She shadows our sunlight of gold,
And the way grows lonely and cold
    As we climb.

As we toil on, through trouble and pain,
    There are hands that will shelter and feed;
But once let us dare to ATTAIN -
    They will bruise our bare hearts till they bleed.<...

Nobly to scorn thy gilded veil to wear,
    Soft Simulation! - wisely to abstain
    From fostering Envy's asps; - to dash the bane
    Far from our hearts, which Hate, with frown severe,
Extends for those who wrong us; - to revere
    With soul, or grateful, or resign'd, the train
    Of mercies, and of trials, is to gain
    A quiet Conscience, best of blessings here! -
Calm Conscience is a land-encircled bay,
    On whose smooth surface Tempests never blow;
    Which shall the reflex of our life display
Unstain'd by crime, tho' gloom'd with transient woe;
    While the bright hopes of Heaven's eternal day
    Upon the fair and silent waters glow.

O friendly, that I never knew for friend,
O flame, that never warmed me from the cold,
O light, that never beckoned to an end,
Give me but once thy beauty to behold!

Thou, Faith! Who never held before mine eyes
Or wreath of bay or life's diviner rose,
Lift up thy face against my sombre skies
And let me see thee ere mine eyelids close!

Come, lighten mine as thou dost other ways.
Come, conquer me if only for an hour!
O beckon with that shadowy wreath of bays!
O lift to me that unimagined flow'r!

    CREATOR SPIRIT, by whose aid
    The world's foundations first were laid,
    Come, visit every pious mind;
    Come, pour thy joys on human kind;
    From sin and sorrow set us free,
    And make thy temples worthy thee.

        O source of uncreated light,
    The Father's promised Paraclete!
    Thrice holy fount, thrice holy fire,
    Our hearts with heavenly love inspire;
    Come, and thy sacred unction bring
    To sanctify us, while we sing!

        Plenteous of grace, descend from high,
    Rich in thy sevenfold energy!
    Thou strength of his Almighty hand,
    Whose power does heaven and earth command:
    Proceeding Spirit, our defence,
    Who dost the gifts of tongues dispense,
    And crown'st thy gift with eloquence!<...

The peace which others seek they find;
The heaviest storms not longest last;
Heaven grants even to the guiltiest mind
An amnesty for what is past;
When will my sentence be reversed?
I only pray to know the worst;
And wish as if my heart would burst.

O weary struggle! silent year
Tell seemingly no doubtful tale;
And yet they leave it short, and fear
And hopes are strong and will prevail.
My calmest faith escapes not pain;
And, feeling that the hope in vain,
I think that He will come again.

(See Note 58)

Youthful friends here a circle form,
Elder foes now surrender.
Feel among us in safety, warm,
Toward you our hearts are tender.
Once again on a hard-fought day
Hero-like you have led the way,
Smiting all that before you stood; -
But now be good!

With no hubbub, without champagne,
Dress-suit, and party-collar,
We would honor o'er viands plain
Grateful our "grand old scholar"!
When all quiet are wind and wave,
Seldom we see this pilot brave; -
When storm-surges our ship might whelm,
He takes the helm!

- Takes the helm and through thick and thin
(Clear are his old eyes burning),
Steers the course with his trusty "grin,"
Straight, where the others are turning!
Thanks gave to him I know not who,
For he s...

I

He sang above the vineyards of the world.
    And after him the vines with woven hands
Clambered and clung, and everywhere unfurled
    Triumphing green above the barren lands;
Till high as gardens grow, he climbed, he stood,
    Sun-crowned with life and strength, and singing toil,
And looked upon his work; and it was good:
                The corn, the wine, the oil.

He sang above the noon. The topmost cleft
    That grudged him footing on the mountain scars
He planted and despaired not; till he left
    His vines soft breathing to the host of stars.
He wrought, he tilled; and even as he sang,
    The creatures of his planting laughed to scorn
The ancient threat of deserts where there sprang
                The wine, the oil, the corn!

        He who wills life wills its condition sweet,
        Having made love its mother, joy its quest,
        That its perpetual sequence might not rest
        On reason's dictum, cold and too discreet;

        For reason moves with cautious, careful feet,
        Debating whether life or death were best,
        And why pale pain, not ruddy mirth, is guest
        In many a heart which life hath set to beat.

        But I will cast my fate with love, and trust
        Her honeyed heart that guides the pollened bee
        And sets the happy wing-seeds fluttering free;

        And I will bless the law which saith, Thou must!
        And, wet with sea or shod with weary dust,
        Will follow back and back and back to thee!

Unless our Souls win back to Thee,
We shall have lost this fight.
Yes, though we win on field and sea,
Though mightier still our might may be,
We still shall lose if we win not Thee.
    Help us to climb, as in Thy sight,
    The Great High Way of Thy Delight.

It is the world-old strife again,--
The fight 'twixt good and ill.
Since first the curse broke out in Cain,
Each age has worn the grim red chain,
And ill fought good for sake of gain.
    Help us, through all life's conflict, still
    To battle upwards to Thy Will.

Are we to be like all the rest,
Or climb we loftier height?
Can we our wayward steps arrest?--
All life with nobler life invest?--
And so fulfil our Lord's behest?
    Help us, through all the world's dark night,

"Insomuch that they brought forth the sick into the streets, and laid them on beds and couches, that at the least the shadow of Peter, passing by, might overshadow some of them."


Mid the thronged bustle of the city street,
In the hot hush of noon,
I wait, with folded hands and nerveless feet.
Surely He will come soon.
Surely the Healer will not pass me by,
But listen to my cry.

Long are the hours in which I lie and wait,
Heavy the load I bear;
But He will come ere evening. Soon or late
I shall behold Him there;
Shall hear His dear voice, all the clangor through;
"What wilt thou that I do?"

"If Thou but wilt, Lord, Thou canst make me clean."
Thus shall I answer swift.
And He will touch me, as He walks serene;
And I shall rise and lift

Over the surging tides and the mountain kingdoms,
Over the pastoral valleys and the meadows,
Over the cities with their factory darkness,
Over the lands where peace is still a power,
Over all these and all this planet carries
A power broods, invisible monarch, a stranger
To some, but by many trusted. Man's a believer
Until corrupted. This huge trusted power
Is spirit. He moves in the muscle of the world,
In continual creation. He burns the tides, he shines
From the matchless skies. He is the day's surrender.
Recognize him in the eye of the angry tiger,
In the sign of a child stepping at last into sleep,
In whatever touches, graces and confesses,
In hopes fulfilled or forgotten, in promises

Kept, in the resignation of old men,
This spirit, this power, thi...

Give all to love;
Obey thy heart;
Friends, kindred, days,
Estate, good-fame,
Plans, credit and the Muse,--
Nothing refuse.

'T is a brave master;
Let it have scope:
Follow it utterly,
Hope beyond hope:
High and more high
It dives into noon,
With wing unspent,
Untold intent;
But it is a god,
Knows its own path
And the outlets of the sky.

It was never for the mean;
It requireth courage stout.
Souls above doubt,
Valor unbending,
It will reward,--
They shall return
More than they were,
And ever ascending.

Leave all for love;
Yet, hear me, yet,
One word more thy heart behoved,
One pulse more of firm endeavor,--
Keep thee to-day,
To-morrow, forever,
Free as an Arab
Of th...

We must not force events, but rather make
The heart soil ready for their coming, as
The earth spreads carpets for the feet of Spring,
Or, with the strengthening tonic of the frost,
Prepares for winter.    Should a July noon
Burst suddenly upon a frozen world
Small joy would follow, even though that world
Were longing for the Summer.    Should the sting
Of sharp December pierce the heart of June,
What death and devastation would ensue!
All things are planned.    The most majestic sphere
That whirls through space is governed and controlled
By supreme law, as is the blade of grass
Which through the bursting bosom of the earth
Creeps up to kiss the light.    Poor, puny man
Alone doth strive and battle with the Force
Which rules all lives and worlds, and he alone

To pray as Jesus prayed,
    When faithless brethren sleep, -
To weep the ruin sin has made -
    The only ones that weep, -
To bear the heavy cross, -
    To toil, yet murmur not, -
To suffer pain, reproach, and loss, -
    Be such our earthly lot.

Yet oh, how richly blest
    The Master's cup to share, -
The aching grief that wrung His breast, -
    His broken-hearted prayer, -
If thus we may but gain
    One sheaf of golden wheat
Gleaned from Earth's sultry harvest-plain,
    To lay at His dear feet! -

If thus we may but win
    One precious earthly gem
Snatched from the mire of vice and sin,
    For His rich diadem! -
Here, sorrow, patience, prayer;
    In Heaven, the rich reward!
Here, the sharp thorns, the cross,...

I have been thinking of the victims bound
In Naples, dying for the lack of air
And sunshine, in their close, damp cells of pain,
Where hope is not, and innocence in vain
Appeals against the torture and the chain!
Unfortunates! whose crime it was to share
Our common love of freedom, and to dare,
In its behalf, Rome's harlot triple-crowned,
And her base pander, the most hateful thing
Who upon Christian or on Pagan ground
Makes vile the old heroic name of king.
O God most merciful! Father just and kind!
Whom man hath bound let thy right hand unbind.
Or, if thy purposes of good behind
Their ills lie hidden, let the sufferers find
Strong consolations; leave them not to doubt
Thy providential care, nor yet without
The hope which all thy attributes inspire,

When Hagar found the bottle spent,
And wept o’er Ishmael,
A message from the Lord was sent
To guide her to a well.[1]


Should not Elijah’s cake and cruse[2]
Convince us at this day,
A gracious God will not refuse
Provisions by the way?


His saints and servants shall be fed,
The promise is secure;
“Bread shall be given them,” he has said,
“Their water shall be sure.”[3]


Repasts far richer they shall prove,
Than all earth’s dainties are;
‘Tis sweet to taste a Saviour’s love,
Though in the meanest fare.


To Jesus then your trouble bring,
Nor murmur at your lot;
While you are poor and he is King,
You shall not be forgot.

In golden youth when seems the earth
A Summer-land of singing mirth,
When souls are glad and hearts are light,
And not a shadow lurks in sight,
We do not know it, but there lieu
Somewhere veiled under evening skies
A garden which we all must see -
The garden of Gethsemane.

With joyous steps we go our ways,
Love lends a halo to our days;
Light sorrows sail like clouds afar,
We laugh, and say how strong we are.
We hurry on; and hurrying, go
Close to the borderland of woe
That waits for you, and waits for me -
Forever waits Gethsemane.

Down shadowy lanes, across strange streams,
Bridged over by our broken dreams;
Behind the misty caps of years,
Beyond the great salt fount of tears,
The garden lies.    Strive as you may,
You ca...

Scene I. Near the place of the damned. Enter Werner and Spirit.

Werner.

    What piercing, stunning sounds assail my ear!
Wild shrieks and wrathful curses, groans and prayers,
A chaos of all cries! making the space
Through which they penetrate to flutter like
The heart of a trapped hare, - are revelling round us.
    Unlike the gloomy realm we just have quitted,
Silent and solemn, all is restless here,
All wears the ashy hue of agony.
Above us bends a black and starless vault,
Which ever echoes back the fearful voices
That rise from the abodes of wo beneath.
Around us grim-browed desolation broods,
While, far below, a sea of pale gray clouds,
Like to an ocean tempest beaten, boils.
Whither shall we direct our journey now?

Spirit.