Full well I know I have more tares than wheat, Brambles and flowers, dry stalks and withered leaves; Wherefore I blush and weep, as at thy feet I kneel down reverently and repeat: "Master, behold my sheaves!" Few, light and worthless; yet their trifling weight And yet I gather strength and hope anew, Not what I did, but what I strove to do; Elizabeth Akers (1832-1911] TAKE HEART ALL day the stormy wind has blown The wind made in the willow-tree. This is the summer's burial-time: She died when dropped the earliest leaves; And, cold upon her rosy prime, Fell direful autumn's frosty rime; Yet I am not as one that grieves, For well I know o'er sunny seas The bluebird waits for April skies; And at the roots of forest trees The May-flowers sleep in fragrant ease, O thou, by winds of grief o'erblown Forward Take heart! Thy birds are only flown, 3487 FORWARD DREAMER, waiting for darkness with sorrowful, drooping eyes, Linger not in the valley, bemoaning the day that is done! Climb the hills of morning and welcome the rosy skiesNever yet was the setting so fair as the rising sun! Dear is the past; its treasures we hold in our hearts for aye; Woe to the hand that would scatter one wreath of its garnered flowers; But larger blessing and honor will come with the waking day Hail, then, To-morrow, nor tarry with Yesterday's ghostly hours! Mark how the summers hasten through blossoming fields of June To the purple lanes of the vintage and levels of golden corn; "Splendors of life I lavish," runs nature's exultant rune, "For myriads press to follow, and the rarest are yet unborn." Think how eager the earth is, and every star that shines, To circle the grander spaces about God's throne that be; Never the least moon loiters nor the largest sun declines— Forward they roll forever those glorious depths to see. Dreamer, waiting for darkness with sorrowful, drooping eyes, Summers and suns go gladly, and wherefore dost thou repine? Climb the hills of morning and welcome the rosy skies— The joy of the boundless future-nay, God himself is thine! Edna Dean Proctor [1838 "THE HARVEST WAITS" GOD hath been patient long. In eons past. He plowed the waste of Chaos. He hath sown Shall He not reap, who hears but prayer and groan? Glut the rank worlds as rills are choked by leaves, Then shall God flail the million orbs, as sheaves Unfruitful gleaned; and, in His age sublime, Winnow the gathered stars, and with a breath Whirl the spurned chaff adown the void of Time! Lloyd Mifflin [1846 ONE GIFT I ASK THROUGH Weary days and sleepless nights I fast and pray; And of my listening Lord I ask The same alway That He will to His child impart Pureness of heart. The pure in heart God's face shall see. And does not this Include the whole ecstatic scale Of promised bliss? Can souls which His dear presence gain More joy attain? My Aim I need not plead with Him to give Me every grace That makes the spirit beautiful; For, if God's face I am to see, He will bestow All else, I know. And so, through days of prayer and fast, I only try To win that purity of heart Which, by and by, The wondrous boon will gain for me, God's face to see. Virginia Bioren Harrison [18 3489 MY AIM I LIVE for those who love me, whose hearts are kind and true, For the heaven that smiles above me, and awaits my spirit too; For all human ties that bind me, for the task by God assigned me; For the bright hopes yet to find me, and the good that I can do. I live to learn their story who suffered for my sake; Bards, patriots, martyrs, sages, the heroic of all ages, I live to hold communion with all that is divine, To feel there is a union 'twixt nature's heart and mine; I live to hail the season, by gifted ones foretold, I live for those who love me, for those who know me true; For the heaven that smiles above me, and awaits my spirit too; For the cause that lacks assistance, for the wrong that needs resistance, For the future in the distance, and the good that I can do. G. Linnæus Banks [1821-1881] THOU knowest, O my Father! Why should I Hath soared beyond the stars and reached Thine ears. Thou knowest,-ah, Thou knowest! Then what need And with persistent iteration plead As one who crieth at some closed door? "Tease not!" we mothers to our children say,— I dare not clamor at the heavenly gate, Till Perfect Wisdom bids me enter in! Julia C. R. Dorr [1825 THE BURIAL OF MOSES "And he buried him in a valley in the land of Moab, over against Bethbut no man knoweth of his sepulcher unto this day."-DEUT. xxxiv. 6. peor; By Nebo's lonely mountain, On this side Jordan's wave, In a vale in the land of Moab, There lies a lonely grave; But no man built that sepulcher, And no man saw it e'er; For the angels of God upturned the sod And laid the dead man there. |