VERSE:  TWO WORLDS

God’s world is bathed in beauty,
God’s world is steeped in light;
It is the self-same glory
That makes the day so bright,
Which thrills the earth with music,
Or hangs the stars in night.

Hid in earth’s mines of silver,
Floating on clouds above,—­
Ringing in Autumn’s tempest,
Murmured by every dove;
One thought fills God’s creation—­
His own great name of Love!

In God’s world Strength is lovely,
And so is Beauty strong,
And Light—­God’s glorious shadow—­
To both great gifts belong;
And they all melt into sweetness,
And fill the earth with Song.

Above God’s world bends Heaven,
With day’s kiss pure and bright,
Or folds her still more fondly
In the tender shade of night;
And she casts back Heaven’s sweetness,
In fragrant love and light.

God’s world has one great echo;
Whether calm blue mists are curled,
Or lingering dew-drops quiver,
Or red storms are unfurled;
The same deep love is throbbing
Through the great heart of God’s world.

Man’s world is black and blighted,
Steeped through with self and sin;
And should his feeble purpose
Some feeble good begin,
The work is marred and tainted
By Leprosy within.

Man’s world is bleak and bitter;
Wherever he has trod
He spoils the tender beauty
That blossoms on the sod,
And blasts the loving Heaven
Of the great, good world of God.

There Strength on coward weakness
In cruel might will roll;
Beauty and Joy are cankers
That eat away the soul;
And Love—­Oh God, avenge it—­
The plague-spot of the whole.

Man’s world is Pain and Terror;
He found it pure and fair,
And wove in nets of sorrow
The golden summer air. 
Black, hideous, cold, and dreary,
Man’s curse, not God’s, is there.

And yet God’s world is speaking: 
Man will not hear it call;
But listens where the echoes
Of his own discords fall,
Then clamours back to Heaven
That God has done it all.

Oh God, man’s heart is darkened,
He will not understand! 
Show him Thy cloud and fire;
And, with Thine own right hand
Then lead him through his desert,
Back to Thy Holy Land!

VERSE:  A NEW MOTHER

I was with my lady when she died: 
I it was who guided her weak hand
For a blessing on each little head,
Laid her baby by her on the bed,
Heard the words they could not understand.

And I drew them round my knee that night,
Hushed their childish glee, and made them say
They would keep her words with loving tears,
They would not forget her dying fears
Lest the thought of her should fade away.

I, who guessed what her last dread had been,
Made a promise to that still, cold face,
That her children’s hearts, at any cost,
Should be with the mother they had lost,
When a stranger came to take her place.