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Thy red gold, precious and bright;
With its caverns of burning light; And thy gold shall return more precious,
Free from every spot and stain; For gold must be tried by fire,
As a heart must be tried by pain.
In the cruel fire of sorrow
Cast thy heart, do not faint or wail; Let thy hand be firm and steady,
Do not let thy spirit quail: But wait till the trial is over,
And take thy heart again; For as gold is tried by fire,
So a heart must be tried by pain!
I shall know by the gleam and glitter
Of the golden chain you wear, By your heart's calm strength in loving,
Of the fire they have had to bear. Beat on, true heart, forever;
Shine bright, strong golden chain; And bless the cleansing fire,
And the furnace of living pain!
Through the black night and driving rain
The thunders roar, the lightnings glare,
The stormy voices of the main,
Warm curtained was the little bed, Soft pillowed was the little head; “ The storm will wake the child," they said :
Cowering among his pillows white
The morning shone all clear and gay
Gloria tibi Domine.
A LOST CHORD. SEATED one day at the Organ,
I was weary and ill at ease, And my fingers wandered idly
Over the noisy keys.
I do not know what I was playing,
Or what I was dreaming then; But I struck one chord of music,
Like the sound of a great Amen.
It flooded the crimson twilight,
Like the close of an Angel's Psalm, And it lay on my fevered spirit
With a touch of infinite calm.
It quieted pain and sorrow,
Like love overcoming strife; It seemed the harmonious echo
From our discordant life.
It linked all perplexed meanings
Into one perfect peace,
As if it were loath to cease.
I have sought, but I seek it vainly,
That one lost chord divine,
And entered into mine.
Will speak in that chord again,
I shall hear that grand Amen.
Fall from the darkening sky;
The dews of evening lie;
We kneel at close of day;
And hear us while we pray.
O do not thou despise;
Before thy mercy rise ;
Upon the darkness rolls :
The shadows on our souds.
So fade within our heart
That one by one depart:
Within the heavens shine ;-
And trust in things divine.
Upon our souls descend;
Our trembling hearts defend;
Calm and subdue our woes; Through the long day we suffer, Lord,
O give us now repose !
THE REQUITAL. Loud roared the tempest,
Fast fell the sleet; A little Child Angel
Passed down the street, With trailing pinions,
And weary feet.
The moon was hidden;
No stars were bright; So she could not shelter
In heaven that night, For the Angels' ladders
Are rays of light.
She beat her wings
At each window-pane, And pleaded for shelter,
But all in vain ;“ Listen,” they said,
“To the pelting rain !”
She sobbed as the laughter
And mirth grew higher, “Give me rest and shelter
Beside your fire, And I will give you
Your heart's desire."
The dreamer sat watching
His embers gleam,
Down hope's bright stream; ... So he wove her wailing
Into his dream.
The worker toiled on,
For his time was brief;
Her own pale grief;
That brought relief.
But fiercer the Tempest
Rose than before, When the Angel paused
At a humble door, And asked for shelter
And help once more.
A weary woman,
Pale, worn, and thin, With the brand upon her
Of want and sin, Heard the Child Angel
And took her in.
Took her in gently,
And did her best To dry her pinions;
And made her rest With tender pity
Upon her breast.
When the eastern morning
Grew bright and red, Up the first sunbeam
The Angel fled; Having kissed the woman
And left her - dead.