A Few More Verses. Coolidge Susan

fears,

      Full compensation for the long, hard years,

      Full understanding of the Lord’s intent,

      The things that were so puzzling made quite plain;

      And all astonished joy as, to the spot,

      From further skies,

      Crowd our belovèd with white wingèd feet,

      And voices than the chiming harps more sweet,

      Faces whose fairness we had half forgot,

      And outstretched hands, and welcome in their eyes; —

      Heart cannot image forth the endless store

      We may but guess;

      But this one lesser joy I hold my own:

      All shall be known in heaven; at last be known

      The best and worst of me; the less, the more,

      My own shall know – and shall not love me less.

      Oh, haunting shadowy dread which underlies

      All loving here!

      We inly shiver as we whisper low,

      “Oh, if they knew – if they could only know,

      Could see our naked souls without disguise —

      How they would shrink from us and pale with fear!”

      The bitter thoughts we hold in leash within

      But do not kill;

      The petty anger and the mean desire,

      The jealousy which burns, – a smouldering fire, —

      The slimy trail of half-unnoted sin,

      The sordid wish which daunts the nobler will.

      We fight each day with foes we dare not name.

      We fight, we fail!

      Noiseless the conflict and unseen of men;

      We rise, are beaten down, and rise again,

      And all the time we smile, we move, the same,

      And even to dearest eyes draw close the veil.

      But in the blessed heaven these wars are past;

      Disguise is o’er!

      With new anointed vision, face to face,

      We shall see all, and clasped in close embrace

      Shall watch the haunting shadow flee at last,

      And know as we are known, and fear no more.

      CLOSE AT HAND

      “Did you not know Me, my child?” the lips and eyes that were all love seemed to say to her. “You have thought the thoughts that I inspired, you have spoken my words, you set forth to fight on my side in the battle against evil; and yet you forget me, and have often gone near to deny me, while I was standing by your side and giving you the strength to speak and think. Look at me now, and see if I am not better than the images that have hid me from you.” —A Doubting Heart.

      THE day is long, and the day is hard;

      We are tired of the march and of keeping guard,

      Tired of the sense of a fight to be won,

      Of days to live through and of work to be done,

      Tired of ourselves and of being alone.

      And all the while, did we only see,

      We walk in the Lord’s own company;

      We fight, but ’tis he who nerves our arm,

      He turns the arrows which else might harm,

      And out of the storm he brings a calm.

      The work which we count so hard to do,

      He makes it easy, for he works too;

      The days that are long to live are his,

      A bit of his bright eternities,

      And close to our need his helping is.

      O eyes that were holden and blinded quite,

      And caught no glimpse of the guiding light!

      O deaf, deaf ears which did not hear

      The heavenly garment trailing near!

      O faithless heart, which dared to fear!

      ONLY A DREAM

      I DREAMED we sat within a shaded place,

      Where mournful waters fell, and no sun shone;

      And suddenly, a smile upon his face,

      There came to us a winged, mysterious one,

      And said, with pitying eyes: “O mourning souls, arise!

      “Take up your travelling staves, your sandals lace,

      And journey to the Northland and the snow,

      Where wild and leaping Borealis trace

      Fantastic, glistening dances to and fro;

      Where suns at midnight beam, to fright the sleeper’s dream.

      “There, in the icy, solitary waste,

      God’s goodness grants this boon, – that thou shalt see,

      And hold communion for a little space

      With that dear child so lately gone from thee.

      Arise, and haste away; God may not let her stay.”

      So we arose, and quickly we went forth;

      How could we slight such all undreamed-of boon?

      And when we reached the ultimate far North —

      All in a hush of frozen afternoon,

      Lit by a dim sun-ray, liker to night than day —

      There, o’er the white bare feld we saw her come,

      Our little maid, in the dear guise we knew,

      With the same look she used to wear at home,

      The same sweet eyes of deepest, dark-fringed blue;

      Her steps they made no sound upon the icy ground.

      She kissed us gently, and she stood and smiled,

      While close we clasped and questioned her, and strove

      To win some hint or answer from the child

      That should appease the hunger of our love,

      Something to soothe the pain when she must go again.

      And was she happy, happier than of old?

      Did heaven fulfil its promises of bliss?

      And had she seen our other dead, and told

      The story of that loving faithfulness