Part 25

Let them first fly upward Through the starry air, Till you almost lose them, For their home is there; Then, with outspread pinions, Circling round and round, Wing their way, wherever Want and woe are found.

Where the weary stitcher Toils for daily bread; Where the lonely watcher Watches by her dead; Where with thin weak fingers, Toiling at the loom, Stand the little children, Blighted ere they bloom.

Where, by darkness blinded, Groping for the light, With distorted conscience Men do wrong for right; Where, in the cold shadow, By smooth pleasure thrown, Human hearts by hundreds Harden into stone.

Where on dusty highways, With faint heart and slow, Cursing the glad sunlight, Hungry outcasts go: Where all mirth is silenced, And the hearth is chill, For one place is empty, And one voice is still.

Some hearts will be lighter While your captives roam For their tender singing, Then recal them home; When the sunny hours Into night depart, Softly they will nestle In a quiet heart.

VERSE: THE PEACE OF GOD

We ask for Peace, oh Lord! Thy children ask Thy Peace; Not what the world calls rest, That toil and care should cease, That through bright sunny hours Calm Life should fleet away, And tranquil night should fade In smiling day;-- It is not for such Peace that we would pray.

We ask for Peace, oh Lord! Yet not to stand secure, Girt round with iron Pride, Contented to endure: Crushing the gentle strings That human hearts should know, Untouched by others' joy Or others' woe;-- Thou, oh dear Lord, wilt never teach us so.

We ask Thy Peace, oh Lord! Through storm, and fear, and strife, To light and guide us on, Through a long struggling life: While no success or gain Shall cheer the desperate fight, Or nerve, what the world calls, Our wasted might:- Yet pressing through the darkness to the light.

It is Thine own, oh Lord, Who toil while others sleep; Who sow with loving care What other hands shall reap: They lean on Thee entranced, In calm and perfect rest: Give us that Peace, oh Lord, Divine and blest, Thou keepest for those hearts who love Thee best.

VERSE: LIFE IN DEATH AND DEATH IN LIFE

If the dread day that calls thee hence, Through a red mist of fear should loom, (Closing in deadliest night and gloom Long hours of aching dumb suspense,) And leave me to my lonely doom.

I think, beloved, I could see In thy dear eyes the loving light Glaze into vacancy and night, And still say, "God is good to me, And all that He decrees is right."

That, watching thy slow struggling breath, And answering each imperfect sign, I still could pray thy prayer and mine, And tell thee, dear, though this was death, That God was love, and love divine.

Could hold thee in my arms, and lay Upon my heart thy weary head, And meet thy last smile ere it fled; Then hear, as in a dream, one say, "Now all is over,--she is dead."

Could smooth thy garments with fond care, And cross thy hands upon thy breast, And kiss thine eyelids down to rest, And yet say no word of despair, But, through my sobbing, "It is best."

Could stifle down the gnawing pain, And say, "We still divide our life, She has the rest, and I the strife, And mine the loss, and hers the gain: My ill with bliss for her is rife."

Then turn, and the old duties take-- Alone now--yet with earnest will Gathering sweet sacred traces still To help me on, and, for thy sake, My heart and life and soul to fill.

I think I could check vain weak tears, And toil,--although the world's great space Held nothing but one vacant place, And see the dark and weary years Lit only by a vanished grace.

And sometimes, when the day was o'er, Call up the tender past again: Its painful joy, its happy pain, And live it over yet once more, And say, "But few more years remain."

And then, when I had striven my best, And all around would smiling say, "See how Time makes all grief decay," Would lie down thankfully to rest, And seek thee in eternal day.

II.

But if the day should ever rise-- It could not and it cannot be-- Yet, if the sun should ever see, Looking upon us from his skies, A day that took thy heart from me;

If loving thee still more and more, And still so willing to be blind, I should the bitter knowledge find, That Time had eaten out the core Of love, and left the empty rind;

If the poor lifeless words, at last, (The soul gone, that was once so sweet,) Should cease my eager heart to cheat, And crumble back into the past, And show the whole a vain deceit;

If I should see thee turn away, And know that prayer, and time, and pain, Could no more thy lost love regain, Than bid the hours of dying day Gleam in their mid-day noon again;

If I should loose thy hand, and know That henceforth we must dwell apart, Since I had seen thy love depart, And only count the hours flow By the dull throbbing of my heart;

If I should gaze and gaze in vain Into thine eyes so deep and clear, And read the truth of all my fear Half mixed with pity for my pain, And sorrow for the vanished year;