Would but a root of anguish be A bitter fear, a hideous care All too terrible to bear, Kingly, but king of pains and woes, Justly then, my God, to thee, MOTHER, beneath fair Tarring's heavenward spire, Full of deep thoughts: for where that sacred fire Of Love was kindled, in the self-same spot, Thou, with the dear companion of thy lot, Thy helpmate all those years, mine honour'd sire, To-day have found fulfilled before your eyes The promise of old time ;-look round and see Thy children's children! lo, these babes arise, And call thee blessed: Blessed both be ye! And in your blessing bless ye these, and me. SONNET, ON A BIRTH. AT length, a dreary length of many years, God's favour hath shone forth! and blest thee well, O handmaid of the Lord, for all thy tears, For all thy prayers, and hope, and faith-and fears, With that best treasure of consummate joy A childless wife alone can fully tell How sorely long withheld-her first-born boy : This blessing is from heav'n; to heav'n once more, Another Hannah with her Samuel, Render thou back the talent yielding ten, A spirit, train'd right early to adore, A being, meant and made for endless heaven, DUTY. PEARLS before swine: this is an old complaint; To rest with man's neglect well satisfied, And have its wealth of words, its stores of thought Despised or unregarded: woe betide. The heart that lives on praise! considering nought Of Duty's royal edicts, that command Thy talents to be lent, thy lamp to shine : Soul, be not faint; nor, body, stay thy hand; Heed only this,—not whether those be swine, But whether these be pearls, precious and pure ; That so, whatever fate the world make thine, With God for Judge, thy guerdon be secure. COUNSEL. FOR MUSIC. THERE is a time for praising, One minute is for smiling, And another for the tear, Hope, by turns, beguiling, Or her haggard brother, Fear. But, if in joy thou praisest The generous Hand that gave,— And if in woe thou raisest The prayer that He may save; Thy griefs shall seem all pleasure, As the chidings of a Friend, And thy joy's ecstatic measure A beginning without end! HOME. FOR MUSIC. I NEVER left the place that knew me, But I am not of those who wander (Though my faithless foot may roam) Where I've most been made to linger In the place I call'd my Home. |