By the great Future's dazzling hope made blind To all the beauty, power, and truth behind. Not without reverent awe shouldst thou put by The cypress branches and the amaranth blooms, Where, with clasped hands of prayer, upon their tombs The effigies of old confessors lie, God's witnesses; the voices of his will, Heard in the slow march of the centuries still! Such were the men at whose rebuking frown, Dark with God's wrath, the tyrant's knee went down ; Such from the terrors of the guilty drew The vassal's freedom and the poor man's due. What your own pride and not his need requires? Souls, than these shining gauds, He values more ; Mercy, not sacrifice, his heart desires!" O faithful worthies! resting far behind In your dark ages, since ye fell asleep, Much has been done for truth and human-kind, Shadows are scattered wherein ye groped blind; Man claims his birthright, freer pulses leap Through peoples driven in your day like sheep; Yet, like your own, our age's sphere of light, Though widening still, is walled around by night; With slow, reluctant eye, the Church has read, Sceptic at heart, the lessons of its Head; Counting, too oft, its living members less Than the wall's garnish and the pulpit's dress; World-moving zeal, with power to bless and feed Life's fainting pilgrims, to their utter need, Instead of bread, holds out the stone of creed; Sect builds and worships where its wealth and pride And vanity stand shrined and deified, Careless that in the shadow of its walls God's living temple into ruin falls. We need, methinks, the prophet-hero still, Saints true of life, and martyrs strong of will, Image of saint, the chalice, and the pix, PLES!" he replied To such as came his holy work to chide. And brave Cesarius, stripping altars bare, And coining from the Abbey's golden hoard The captive's freedom, answered to the prayer Or threat of those whose fierce zeal for the Lord Stifled their love of man, en dish tread the land, even now, as Xavier trod The streets of Goa, barefoot, with his bell, Proclaiming freedom in the name of God, And startling tyrants with the fear of hell! Soft words, smooth prophecies, are doubtless well; But to rebuke the age's popular crime, "An earth- We need the souls of fire, the hearts of that old time! THE PEACE CONVENTION AT BRUSSELS. 149 THE PEACE CONVENTION AT The bull-dog Briton, yielding but with BRUSSELS. life, TO A. K. From Autumn frost to April rain, Yet, on her rocks, and on her sands, The riches of the Commonwealth Are free, strong minds, and hearts of health; And more to her than gold or grain, For well she keeps her ancient stock, stands; Nor fears the blinded bigot's rule, Who, for its trials, counts it less 151 It may not be our lot to wield Yet where our duty's task is wrought And ours the grateful service whence And were this life the utmost span, Than waking dream and slothful ease. But life, though falling like our grain, While near her church-spire stands the Like that revives and springs again; school. ALL'S WELL. THE clouds, which rise with thunder, slake Our thirsty souls with rain; The blow most dreaded falls to break From off our limbs a chain; And wrongs of man to man but make The love of God more plain. As through the shadowy lens of even The eye looks farthest into heaven On gleams of star and depths of blue The glaring sunshine never knew! SEED-TIME AND HARVEST. As o'er his furrowed fields which lie Thus, Freedom, on the bitter blast And, early called, how blest are they Who wait in heaven their harvest-day! Forevermore repeat, In varied tones and sweet, O kind and generous friend, o'er whom sorrow The promise of a fairer morrow, The comfort of the sad, The absent heart made glad Where spent waves glimmer up the And toss their gifts of weed and shell To weave these flowers so soft and In unison with His design Who loveth beauty everywhere; For not alone in tones of awe and they, who, like the gentle wind, uplift The petals of the dew-wet flowers, and drift Their perfume on the air, The cloudy horror of the thunder- Alike may serve Him, each, with their power He speaks to man ; shower His rainbows span ; own gift, Making their lives a prayer! |