Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)

Living for Christ, I die; - how strange, that I,
Thus dying, live, - and yet, thus living, die!
Living for Christ, I die;-yet wondrous thought,
In that same death a deathless life is wrought; -
Living, I die to Earth, to self, to sin; -
Oh, blessed death, in which such life I win!

Dying for Christ, I live! - death cannot be
A terror, then, to one from death set free'
Living for Christ, rich blessings I attain,
Yet, dying for Him, mine is greater gain
Life for my Lord, is death to sin and strife,
Yet death for Him is everlas'ing life!

Dying for Christ, I live! - and yet, not I,
But He lives in me, who did for me die.
I die to live, - He lives to die no more,
Who, in His death my own death-sentence bore
"To live is Christ," if Christ within me reign,...

Sleep, gentle, mysterious healer,
    Come down with thy balm-cup to me!
Come down, O thou mystic revealer
    Of glories the day may not see!
For dark is the cloud that is o'er me,
    And heavy the shadows that fall,
And lone is the pathway before me,
    And far-off the voice that doth call -
        Faintly, yet tenderly ever,
            From over the dark river, call.

Let me bask for an hour in the sun-ray
    That wraps him forever in light;
Awhile tread his flowery pathway
    Through bowers of unfailing delight; -
Again clasp the hands I lost sight of
    In the chill mist that hung o'er the tide,
What time, with the pale, silent boatman,
    I saw him away from me glide -
        Out into the fathomless myst'ry,
            All s...

Christian, lookup? thy feet may slide;
    This is a slippery way!
Yet One is walking by thy side
    Whose arm should be thy stay,
Thou canst not see that blessed form,
    Nor view that loving smile
With eager eyes thus earthward bent -
    Christian, look up a while!

Christian, look up! - what seest thou here
    To court thy anxious eyes?
Earth is beneath thee, lone and drear,
    Above, thy native skies!
Beneath, the wreck of faded bloom,
    The shadow, and the clod,
The broken reed, the open tomb, -
    Above thee, is THY GOD!

Look up! thy head too long has been
    Bowed darkly toward the earth,
Thou son of a most Royal Sire,
    Creature of kingly birth!
What! dragging like a very slave
    Earth's heavy galling ch...

Do the dancing leaves of summer
    To the time of buds look back? -
Does the river moan regretful
    For the brooklet's mountain-track?
Does the ripened sheaf of summer,
    Heavy with precious grain,
Ask for its hour of blossom,
    And the breath of Spring again?

Does the golden goblet, brimming
    With the precious, ruby wine,
Look back with weary longing
    To the damp and dusky mine?
Is the sparkling coin, that beareth
    A monarch's image, fain
To seek the glowing furnace,
    Where they purged its dross again?

Would the chiselled marble gather
    Its rubbish back once more.
And lie down, undistinguished,
    In the rough rock as before?
Does the costly diamond, blazing
    On that crowned and queenly one,
...

God so loved me that He gave
Jesus for my sins to die;
Jesus loved me in the grave,
Jesus loves me still on high, -
Father-love and Saviour-love,
Mine on earth and mine above!

Love, from highest heights that stooped, -
Love, to deepest depths that came, -
Love, that 'neath my burden drooped, -
Bore my anguish and my shame -
Died, that I may never die, -
Living, lifts me to the sky!

Love, the arm that reached me first, -
Love, the hand that raised me up, -
Love, my prison-bars that burst, -
Love, that filled my brimming cup -
Filled it full of Heavenly wine -
Filled, and blessed, and made it mine!

Love, the holy, cleansing fount
Where I wash my garments white, -
Love, my Tabor, hallowed mount,
Where I stand with Him in...

LOVED AND LOST, - OR - THE SKY-LARK AND THE VIOLET.


VIOLET'S SONG

I.

        Come down from thy dazzling sphere,
            Bird of the gushing song!
Come down where the young leaves whisper low,
While the breeze steals in with a murmurous flow,
And the tender branches wave to and fro
            In the soft air all day long!

        I have watched thy daring wing
            Cleaving the sun-bright air,
Where the snowy cloud is asleep in light,
Or dreamily floating in robes of white,
While thy soul gushed forth in its song's free might,
            Till my spirit is dim with care.

        For oh, I have loved thee well,
            Thou of the soaring wing! -
And I fear lest the angels that sit on high,
In the ca...

Lightly the shadows
Play through the trees,
Green are the meadows,
Soft is the breeze, -
June's early roses,
Pensive and sweet,
Droop where reposes
Lost Marguerite!

Meeting thee never
In the green bowers, -
Missing thee ever
'Mid the fresh flowers, -
Till the long hours die -
Hours once so fleet -
Hopelessly wait I,
Lost Marguerite!

Day has grown weary
In the blue sky,
Summer is dreary,
Melodies die;
Lowly the willow
Droopeth to meet
And kiss thy pillow,
Lost Marguerite!

Flower the fairest
Of sweet summer time,
Rosebud the rarest
Plucked ere its prime,
Mine to weep ever
Where the wares beat,
Meeting thee never,
Lost Marguerite!

            Thus early with the dead -
    Thou of the young, fair brow, the laughing eye,
            The light and joyous tread, -
Mary, we little thought thou would'st be first to die!

            A little while ago
    We saw thee first in girlhood's early bloom;
            Now thou art lying low,
Thy pale hands crossed in slumber, silent in the tomb!

            Ah me! 'tis hard to speak
    Of thee as of the dead - the pale, still dead! -
            'Tis hard to think the b'eak,
Stern blast of winter sweeps above thy low, cold bed!

            *            *            *            *            *

            Thus early with thy God!
    'Twas a rich boon He sent whose loving voice
            Called thee to His abode,
'Mid the s...

Up from the spirit-depths ringing,
        Softly your melody swells,
Sweet as a seraphim's singing,
        Tender-toned memory-bells!
                The laughter of childhood,
                The song of the wildwood,
The tinkle of streams through the echoing dell,
                The voice of a mother,
                The shout of a brother.
Up from life's morning melodiously swell.

Up from the spirit-depths ringing
        Richly your melody swells,
Sweet reminiscences bringing,
        Joyous-toned memory-bells! -
                Youth's beautiful bowers,
                Her dew-spangled flowers,
The pictures which Hope of futurity drew, -
                Love's rapturous vision
                Of regions Elysian,
In glowing perspect...

Where the willow weepeth
    By a fountain lone, -
Where the ivy creepeth
    O'er a mossy stone, -
With pale flowers above her,
    In a quiet dell.
Far from those who love her,
    Slumbers Minniebel.

There thy bed I made thee,
    By that fountain side,
And in anguish laid thee
    Down to rest, my bride!
Tenderest and fairest,
    Who thy worth may tell!
Flower of beauty rarest,
    Saintly Minniebel!

Weary years have borrowed
    From my eye its light,
Time my cheek has furrowed,
    And these locks are white;
But my heart will ever
    Mid its memories dwell,
Fondly thine forever,
    Angel Minniebel!

WRITTEN AT THE REQUEST OF A BEREAVED BROTHER.


We were playmates long together,
    By the brook and on the hill,
In the golden, summer weather,
    When the days were long and still;
We were playmates in the firelight
    While the winter eyes went by,
And we shared one couch at midnight -
    My brother James and I!

We were schoolmates, too, together,
    In the after years that came,
And in toil, or task, or pleasure,
    Ours was still one heart, one aim;
Hand in hand we struggled sunward
    Toward fair Science' temple high
Aiding each the other onward -
    My brother James and I!

We were men at last together -
    Oh, the well remembered time,
When we left the dear, old homestead
    In our early manhood's prim...

"For there is none other name under heaven, given among men, whereby we must be saved."


Jesus! the only name that's given,
    Through which salvation we may claim;
This, this alone, we breathe to Heaven,
    For God accepts no other name.

No other name when skies are bright.
    And sunshine glows on field and flower;
No other name when, dark as night,
    The heavy clouds tempestuous lower.

No other name when, drooping low,
    O'erburdened by sin's heavy load,
The contrite spirit pines to know
    The way to hope, to Heaven, to God.

No other name when, like a flood,
    Temptations beat upon the soul;
Faith, breathing that one name to God,
    The raging billows shall control.

In peace or conflict, toil or rest,

"Whither shall I go from thy Spirit?"


I stood where ocean lashed the sounding shore
With his unresting waves, and gazed far out
Upon the billowy strife. I saw the deep
Lifting his watery arms to grasp the clouds,
While the black clouds stooped from the sable arch
Of the storm-darkened heavens, and deep to deep
Answered responsive in the ceaseless roar
Of thunders and of floods.

                                                    "Here, then, I am alone,
And this is solitude, "I murmured low,
As in the presence of the risen storm
I bowed my head abashed. "Alone?" -
The echoing concave of the skies replied, -
"Alone?" - the waves responded, and the winds
In hollow murmurs answered back - "Alone?"

"Thou canst not be alone, for God is he...