Shall I hear the free bird singing
In the summer's stainless sky,
Far aloft its glad flight winging,
And not seek to soar as high?

Shall this heart still spend its treasures
On the things that fade and die;
Shall it court the hollow pleasures
Of bewildering vanity?

Shall these lips of mine be idle;
Shall I open them in vain?
Shall I not with God's own bridle
Their frivolities restrain?

Shall these eyes of mine still wander ?—

Or, no longer turned afar,

Fix a firmer gaze and fonder

On the bright and morning Star?

Shall these feet of mine, delaying,
Still in ways of sin be found,
Braving snares and madly straying

On the world's bewitching ground?

FORWARD.

No, I was not born to trifle

Life away in dreams or sin!
No, I must not, dare not stifle
Longings such as these within!

Swiftly moving, upward, onward,
Let my soul in faith be borne;
Calmly gazing, skyward, sunward,
Let my eye unshrinking turn!

Where the Cross, God's love revealing,
Sets the fettered spirit free,

Where it sheds its wondrous healing,

There, my soul, thy rest shall be!

Then no longer idly dreaming

Shall I fling my years away;

But, each precious hour redeeming,
Wait for the eternal day!

225

NOTHING BETWEEN.

FONDLY, fondly returneth the daylight

To the old hill's grey peak ere the dawn has begun; Slowly, slowly recedeth the daylight

From the old hill's grey peak when the long day is done.

Softly, softly returneth the ripple

To its rest on the sand of yon green-margined bay, Sadly, sadly recedeth the ripple

To mingle again with the sea's drifting spray.

Gladly, gladly the dew of the twilight

Floats up to the rainbow at blush of the dawn, Slowly, slowly the dew of the twilight,

Seeks the dark sod again when the sun is withdrawn.

It is thus, even thus, that the sunlight of heaven,
Returns and retires with the morn and the even;

NOTHING BETWEEN.

227

Thus slowly retiring as sleep seals the eye,

Returning at day-spring with joy from on high.

Night's last gleam and truest, my God's gracious love, Morn's first beam and fondest, his joy from above.

Yet, 'tis not night alone that comes between
My God and me, to mar the peaceful scene;
But the world's blazing day, hour after hour,
Beats on my head, and with its scorching power
Dries up my dew and sap, nay

dims

With its bewildering blaze of vanity.

my eye

Then comes the quiet and the cool of night,
To give me back the calm, of which the light
Of this gay world had sought me to bereave.
O gentle shadows of the tranquil eve!
Eve with thy stillness and soul-soothing balm,
What do I owe thee for thy solemn calm!
Thou comest down like some peace-bringing dove,
To soothe and cheer me with thy silent love.

FOLLOW THOU ME.

RESTORE to me the freshness of my youth,

And give me back my soul's keen edge again,
That time has blunted! O, my early truth,—
Shall I not you regain?

Ah, mine has been a wasted life at best,
All unreality and long unrest;

Yes, I have lived in vain !

But now no more in vain ;-my soul, awake,

Shake off the snare, untwist the fastening chain:

Arise, go forth, the selfish slumber break,

Thy idle dreams restrain!

Still half thy life before thee lies untrod,

Live for the endless living, live for God!—
I must not live in vain!

My God! the way is rough and sad the night,

And my soul faints and breathes this weeping strain; And the world hates me with its bitterest spite,

For I have left its train.