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

I.

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.”