Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, LIFE-THOUGHTS, by RICHARD SOLOMON GEDNEY



Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

LIFE-THOUGHTS, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Twas morn, - the heavens were glowing with the light
Last Line: Through studying god's works to study god!
Subject(s): God; Hearts; Life; Love; Mankind; Religious Education; Human Race; Sunday Schools; Yeshivas; Parochial Schools


'TWAS morn,—the Heavens were glowing with the light
Of rose leaves steeped in azure, which o'erhung
And heralded the Day God;—on the beach
The ripples just awaking, to and fro
Rolled lazily;—inland, a green-leaved wood
Stretched its young arms and drank the fresh pure air
Which fanned its lofty brow. I stood and gazed
Upon the lovely scene, till, steeped in joy,
My soul lost consciousness of time and place,
And only woke when Sol rose from the sea
And stretched his flame-caduceus over Earth,
When from the wood, which for some hours past
Had been awake and filled with merry life,
There came a burst of joyful melody;—
The very trees tossed up their arms to Heaven,
And shook the night-dews from their fresh green leaves,
A shower of gleaming pearls,—as though the fays,
Who in the night held revel there and feast,
Startled by Sol's bright beam, each with a lamp
Of fairy-light in his hand, that late had served
To illume their leafy halls, were flitting down
To hide themselves from day in Mother Earth,—
And rustled a glad welcome to the Sun;
A thousand feather'd songsters joined their notes
To the trees' rustle and the insects' hum;
And Ocean swelled the glorious harmony,
Murmuring its joy in sweetly plaintive song,
While the soft Zephyr breathèd through the wood
Melodiously as an Æolian harp.

Oh! it was beautiful, that choral hymn,
A grateful Nature's offering to her God.
I would have sang too, but my heart was full
Of that deep joy that knows no utterance.
I turned to where the Sun was rising from
His couch of rose leaves, which in bright extent
Stretched o'er the eastern horizon.—The Sea,
Whose murmuring melody seemed telling of
A solemn happiness apart from all
That man the Immortal knows of weary life,
Moved ever onward from the flaming east
In swells of liquid fire, which, as they came,
Broke into ripples all instinct with light,
That, with a fairy music stealing on.
Along the sands, laid tribute at my feet
In flakes of feathery foam, as white and pure
As new fall'n snow, or *******'s fair brow.
But when the Sun rose wholly from his couch,
'Twas grandly glorious! The fairy clouds,
That late like wreathèd roses floated round
And held him in their arms, now changed their tint,
And saffron, orange, gold, usurped the place
Of the soft rose-bloom; then all merged in one,
And where the fairy-wreaths had floated, now
The gates of Heaven were barred with massy gold.
The Sea put on another face; a mass
Of incandescent metal in the east,
It rolled in torrid grandeur on the shore;
Its heaving bosom rose with higher swells,
And mimic waves raced up the silver sand,
And laughed, and danced, and sported in the sun,
Like joyous children, while their merry voice
Rang out upon the air like silver bells;
And all was peace, and purity, and joy!

It is not always thus; the rising Sun
Is ofttimes veiled in clouds; is often dimmed
By Nature's harshness; tempest, storm, or fog
Eclipses oft his morning. Thus, in life,
The glories of the youthful soul are shorn,
Or dimmed, or veiled by outward influence;
By accidents of time, or place, or rank;
Harsh parents, poverty, or want of friends;
Unkind relations; uncongenial minds,
Chilling and killing all its aspirations
By their cold contact. In the Morn of Life,
The young soul, tender and susceptible,
Fresh from its Maker's hands, unused to Earth,
Is dulled and saddened by these sharp rebuffs;
Loses its brightness, shrinks into itself,
And, dim and mournful, walks its destined course,
A Thing of Life, but not of Light, alas!

Sister, thy soul has risen in all beauty,
Like rosy clouds enfolding thee, the prayers
Of loving parents shielded thee from ill
In thy first helpless infancy, and now
That thou has left their arms, and, in the light
Of Love and Womanhood, attempt the path
Of hopeful Life, those prayers, still guarding thee,
Keep watch with anxious thought. Unstained and bright;
Undimmed by early trouble, fear, or care;
Unchecked by harshness; fostered by kind love;
Untainted all: unsoiled by pain or grief;
The music of a hundred loving hearts
Cheering thy life, as those bright songs of birds
Made melody of Morn; the prayers that rise,
Unthought of and unstudied, from those hearts,
Like the incense-breath of flowers, supporting thee;
Guided and guarded by the thought of him,
The true and noble-hearted, whose deep soul
Hath lavished all its treasures—all its love
And tenderness upon thee; Life and Light,
And all their joyfulness, surrounding thee,
Thou standest in the present,—look not back!
The past lies now below thee; they who look
Downwards must needs grow giddy,—look thou up
Into the hopeful future; spurn the voice
That with deceitful logic strives to paint
Time as a circle, turning on itself.
Live for the Future.—Think of life as but
A steep ascent unto that pleasant goal
To which you hasten through the lapse of years.—

Life may be long or short. We cannot tell
How soon we may be called; we do not know
How long we may remain imprisoned here;
But it behoves us not to think of this,
But study how to live, and discipline
Life that it may be Servant and not Served.

Fear not impiety beneath these words,
Dread not that I forget the after-life
And only speak of this.
Your Pastors preach
"Think ever of the End. Pray constantly.
"A fearful Thing stalks always by your side,
"Its name is Death, its arrow ever keen
"May pierce at any moment. Think of this
"Ever and always;—on your marriage-day,
"Dread least to-morrow's morn may see him dead
"Whose life is bound to yours;—when your first born
"Is baptised at the altar, think of Death!—
"When happy in the midst of those you love,
"Bright faces beaming, merry voices laughing,—
"Enjoy it not too much, for Death is there!
"This life is nothing worth,—the after life
"Is all that you should look to. Think of Death!
"Familiarise with him, that when he strikes
"You may receive the blow without a fear:—
"And pray, too, all day long. Go to the Church
"As often as you can, and pray to God
"That he may send Repentance and pure Faith
"Unto your heart, to ease your dying bed."

I do not think thus, Sister. Save the prayer
To which it recommends you, this is false,—
The falsest of false doctrine. Some have called
Me Infidel, because I thought and said
The true Faith was not this; because I held
That all that was, was good; that perfect Faith
Feared nothing, and had, therefore, little need
To think of Death as of an awful thing
To which it must familiarise itself
By constant habitude; that perfect Faith
Must pierce the heart before it could repent,—
Not follow after as a God's reward.

"Repent and pray, and God will send you Faith."
Prayer is not prayer, unless it be Faith's prayer:
Repentance is not such, unless 'tis wrought
By the hand of Faith.—How can they then be saved
Who have not Faith?—how can they gain that Faith
The which they lack, if all their prayers are nought?

As is a Book unto the scholar's eyes,
So Life is to the wise man—wisely read;
Within its leaves such wondrous things are writ,
As, being studied, lift the thinking Soul
Into the perfectness of Faith and Hope,
And give it wings, and raise it from the Earth,
And bear it, step by step, unto the height
Of human goodness, so that when Death comes
'Tis but the passport to a better life.

So study thou, dear Sister, and may God
Direct my humble effort to assist
And guide you in the work, and may his grace
Foster the seed to fruit.—Bear with me yet
But for a little time. 'Twill not be long
Ere I must leave you. Life is ebbing fast,—
My work is nearly finished, and the sands
Of my allotted time are well-nigh run.
When I am "missed from Earth," these words may have
A deeper value than appeareth now.
Think of them as the wisdom of a thought
Aged with grief, and pain, and loneliness;
Think of them as the utterings of one
Who, walking life alone, without a heart
To love or care for him, spent all his soul
And mind and strength in studying that life,
To him a dismal solitude, though fraught
With joys for others which he saw and read,
Although he could not grasp. .....

All wisdom lies
Within these words, if rightly understood,—
"Live for the Future!"—Yes, but live for life.
Think not I mean to set your mind adrift
Upon that Ocean of Perplexities
In which your teachers drown it, when they say
"Live for the Future," which upon their lips,
Means abnegation of the present-time.
"Life is for nothing worth. Learn how to die,
"And to that end study not life but death."
Such is their constant cry; but the Soul's prize
Is to such study unattainable.

Life is a bridge, o'er which we all must pass,
And full of traps and pitfalls: if you keep
Your eyes fixed ever on the gates beyond,
Striving to pierce their glories, you will fall.
You know the gates are there; you know that you
Will, in due time, stand on their threshold stone;
You know that, if unsoiled you reach their shade,
Pure Happiness awaits you. Pick your way,
So that no stain be on your garment when
You reach your journey's end. Study your path
At every step, and choose the cleaner ground
On which to plant your foot, that at Life's close,
Pure and unsullied as a little child,
(A child in verity, for Trouble and not Years
Makes the heart old—all trouble flows from Sin)—
You enter at those gates, and Angel-forms
Salute you "Sister" there. .....
Time is a Book
Writ for our study by the Hand of God.
Life is the foremost page. If o'er its lines
We hurry, with our minds intent upon
And pondering of the next, we nothing learn;
And when we reach, at last, that Second page,
How can we hope to understand its text,
The First not being studied? It is there.
You know 'twill come in turn. You know it holds
Things of vast import, wonderful and bright.
You know the page of Life is given to you
With purpose definite. All reason points
To study as that purpose,—take it so.—
All things have double life; Body and Mind,
Inner and outer life. So Study has
The Theory and Practice, of the which
The former is more worthy,—'tis the mind,—
Practice the Body which it vivifies.
That which is Future now, ere very long
Will be the Present.—Study in advance,
That when it comes, Reality may fall
Into the lines wise Theory has marked.

Even in two words how much there lies enshrined—
First, "Wife," then "Mother," words of thrilling strength
That lift the soul into sublimity,
And give it visions of that Paradise
Where all is love, and love itself is God!
O Thou who reignest in Heaven, grant my lyre
Strength, sweetness, wisdom, to unfold those words!
O give me wings to rise aloft from Earth,
And in a Pœan of old days, hymn out
Their praises through the sky! O give me power
To word the feelings that o'erflow my heart
With their soft gushing melody, that she
Whose natal morn smiles o'er me, may receive
A fit though humble tribute from my hand.

Thou art a woman now!—Oh! wondrous words,
Fraught with Time's clouds and glories,—how they thrill
The heart with their deep meaning; joyous songs,
Sweet music, beauteous flowers, the notes of birds,
The thousand gleams of brightness that are thrown
By Nature's kindness o'er our weary path,
May stir the heart to joy, but yet the deep
And solemn thoughts those words arouse within
Are dearer, nearer to the soul than these,
The joyous things of Earth. The wondrous hymn
That in bright summer-time goes up to God
From bird, and flower, and tree, may wake the soul
From fear and grief, and steep it in a bliss
That knows no equal for the time it lasts—
But passing, all is dark and drear again:
It is not so with this. These few short words
Are food for thought as long as soul can think—
Thou art a woman now! Through other paths
Thy soul must learn to tread. Throw by the Past,
And let it fall, and die away into
Forgetfulness. Has the Past no bitter
For every one? Rememberest Mother, thou,
The sickening anguish that o'erflowed thy heart
When thy much-loved one died?—The deathly swoon,—
The bending of thy soul beneath the woe,—
The mind and body crushed and paralysed,
O'erwhelmed by the Grim Presence;—thy best loved,
Who had so lately nestled at thy heart,
With cherub arms wreathed round thy bending neck
And rosy lips pouting to kiss thine own,
A lifeless corpse beneath the roof which late
Had sheltered as choice piece of Heaven's work
As e'er glad mother's eyes?—And Father, thou
Hast not forgotten yet the fearful time
When he thou prized'st so much, thy noble son,
Thy pride, ambition, hope, and love, and joy,
Lay dying in thine arms. The awful pang
That rent thy strong heart then;—the dreadful voice
That seemed to say "Curse God for this, and die;"—
The oblivion of all things save thy great grief;—
The numbing of all sense save that of pain;—
The aching at the heart that never goes;—
All this, and more. But yet another one—
To thee, I speak, O man! whose lovely All,
She who to thee was more than soul or life,
Has left thee comfortless to mourn her loss
For ever and for aye;—whose greatest joy
Is the self-torture of remembering
The last soft pressure of that feeble hand,—
The parting sigh,—the faint, fond, loving smile,—
The tender gaze of those fast-fading orbs
Which late had shone as bright as the gazelle's;
The ebbing soul within, now dimly seen,
Flickering—waning—lower, lower still....
Thou, her last thought on Earth, mingling with God,
Her first in Heaven! Then, the withering
Of thy poor soul beneath the awful curse,
By whose fierce breath 'twas scorched and writhen up
As is a scroll in flame. But why go on?
Some sorrows are beyond the power of words.—
Such woes come not to all; but still the Past
Is but a bitter weed to be thrown by,
Retaining but the experience which lurked
Beneath its thorns.
On to the future, then.
Whence is our starting point? I see it now;
A beaming Vision rises to mine eyes,
And in my soul! I see a glorious shrine,
Bright angels hover round, the incense breath
Of purity ariseth ever there,
And all untaught, unbidden, soars to God;
His smiles light up the altar, and His love
Casts heavenly rays upon it, and it glows
And glitters in the light of happiness,
With radiance not of earth; but like a star
Whose beam shoots through the darkling vasts of night,
From unimaginable space, and ev'n
When it has come so far has power still
To pierce the rust that Worldliness, and Care,
And Selfishness, and Strife have cast around
The heart that meets its course, and enter in
And thrill it with soft thoughts of God and Heaven.
This is our starting point,—this glorious shrine
Whose light fills every heart with Good and Grace;
Before whose radiance Evil hides its head,
And at whose foot the soul-wise ever bow,
Recognising the Presence of the Lord,
And owning this His mirror upon Earth
And emblem of His Heaven!—A virgin-heart
Imbued with all of good and innocence,
May well be deemed the fairest of His works!

Thou art a woman now! O sister loved!
Think not of these words lightly, as a cause
Of unmixed joy and proud congratulace;
Things of great import shelter 'neath their wings,—
The Future's joys and sorrows, hopes and fears:
The cares and trials, perhaps misfortunes, too,
Of busy, troublous life await thee now.
Ere long, before the footstool of the Lord,
With plighted vow and solemn conjurance,
Thou takest a step can never be re-trod:
A new existence opens to thy sight,
New duties and new feelings wait thee there.
Time flies swift-winged; but the earnest heart
Can in a few short hours grasp thoughts to serve
Throughout the Being of the longest life.

That man wears voluntary, this is worst
(Ay, voluntary, for God never yet
Created evil for the evil's sake,
But that the soul from battling with its power
Might rise enriched and strengthened, conqueror)
Of many evils—Temper. Study thou
To quell each angry feeling ere it burn
A scar upon thy heart, indelible
As Cain's upon his brow. 'Twill never fade;
And, though you, thoughtless, may regard it healed,
'Twill be but smouldering; a little thing,
A "trifle light as air," a word or look
May give it life and virulence. Each time
It thus breaks forth, the wound will larger grow,
And spread and spread, till——Oh! think well of this.
How many a household love-light has been dimmed!
How many a noble heart been driven far
From peace, and happiness, and home, by this!
How many a love-bound couple been estranged!
How many a kindly friend made alienate!
How many a loving parent's tender heart,
Repulsed and saddened, been made harsh by this!
The aid of many a hand stretched out to help,
Been driven away and lost by this sad thing!

A lesser demon, too, there is, a kin
And offspring of this fiend,—Unkindness named.
He lurks insidious in each thoughtless word;
He dwells in curiosity; he lives
Ever in selfishness; he even hides
Beneath the wings of merriment. Try hard
To study all his aspects, so that you
Detect his first advances, and refuse
To admit him to your counsels. Deeply think
Of all the woe an unkind word may wreak,—
That it will cause a loving child to shrink
Even from its mother's arms; that it will drive
A kind and tender husband from his home,
And light a firebrand on the household hearth;
That it will blight a heart's deep tenderness,
And crush it back into itself to die
In silent misery. Speak kindly, then,
Ever and always kindly. Did you know
The misery an unkind word can cause!
I could unfold a sad, sad tale of this;
But your own heart will learn it all too soon,
While yet Life's cup is brimmed.—
Dark Selfishness
Is one of the worst vices of the flesh,
And dearest, worst in being so. "'Tis bad,"
You doubtless own, but then, I fear, you think
"'Tis not so very bad—has some excuse—
"Is planted in our breast by Nature's hand;"
And all the other sophisms by which
The heart deceives itself. So Temper is
A growth from nature's garden; so is Lust,
And many other vices. Should we then
Bow down and worship them? Not so, not so!
Life, as I told you erst, is but a school
To give the soul new wisdom, and to test
In combat with the Ill its 'herent good;
For this is Ill permitted,—aye, and sent.
Each soul has power to conquer if it will;
And if it will not, should we not expect
Its contumacy punished? Selfishness—
If not the worst, the lowest, meanest vice,
And leading to the worse than vice, the sins
That are accursed for ever—dwarfish born,
Soon towers into a giant, huge and fierce,
And a dread tyrant o'er the grovelling heart
That weakly owns his sway. Destroy him thou,
While yet a puny babe; let not his cries
Breed pity and fresh liking; cast him off!
It may be hard to part with one so loved,
But ere long time you'll find a load is gone,
And that your heart beats freer and more glad,
And that the joys conferred on others, now
The Whisperer that said "Take all" is gone,
Give a sweet pleasure never known before,
And make your pulses throb with higher thoughts,
And bring you nearer, dearer to the God
Whose smiles are your reward.—I spoke of sin
Accursed to which it led. Go through the Laws,
And you will find that Selfishness it is
Which worketh their reverse; that when he once
Is master of the heart, free passage-way
Is opened to Irreligion, Avarice,
Lust, Falsehood, Theft.—Think deeply on these things,
And pray to God to light the laborous path
That leads to full belief.
Suspicion, next,
Is death to wedded love: the rack and wheel
That tortured men of old, must yield to this.
The agony with which a sensitive heart
Turns back upon itself when met by Doubt,
Excels the utmost power possessed by them
Of pain and wretchedness. I tell you that
I knew a heart whose love and tenderness,
Had you searched through the world, you ne'er had matched,
Weep tears of blood, and almost break, to think
That she who knew each chord, each thought, each pulse
That throbbed within, could feel and speak a doubt.
Hearts do not break? Oh! sister, say not so!
Pray God you may not live to know that hearts,
The strong and deep ones soonest, oft are broke
More easily than limbs. The doctor's care
Can heal the latter—God alone the first.
And, oh! beware of doubting him you love,
And in whose heart your image is supreme:
Even if he be not sensitive, 'twill grieve,
And sadden, and perplex him, and too soon
Stir up a vexed recrimination, or
Crush back his heart to prey upon itself;
Either is death to love. Then, oh! beware
Lest some malignant demon should inspire
Suspicion in your mind; and guard you well
To give access nor vantage-ground to it.
The paths by which it entereth readiest
Are, first—Inquisitiveness. This is one
Of the unguarded portals of the mind,
Through which full many an evil steals unseen;
Doubt comes through this as sure as night through eve;
And, seeking to assuage that doubt, will give
Existence to a thousand others, which
Would ne'er have troubled you bad not the first
Vile intermeddling imp roused them to life.
Be not too curious, then, and think that he
To whom your life is bound would never hide
Aught but annoyance from your loving heart.
Next, there is Idleness; have nought with it.
If you are idle, Restlessness will come,
Which is Uneasiness, the which and Doubt
Are brothers twin; you never see the one
Save followed by the other, or accompanied.
Besides, you have no right to waste your time.
God never meant you should; and He has given
Duties and cares to fill each fleeting hour.
Be working, or be thinking,—thoughts like these,—
The heart's an endless study, so is life.
What I have said may show you how to read,
Truly and worthily, that wondrous Book;
For though the pages I have oped to you
Are pregnant with deep meaning and soul-truth,
They are but fractions of the mighty whole.
I cannot, if I would, depict them all,
My space and time forbid, nor is there need;
But earnest be—your heart will teach the path
Better than I.

Dear sister, studying
Deeply and thoughtfully such things as these,
Is living for the Future. As a Maid,
They may not hurt you much; but as a Wife—
Oh! they are fatal even to the word!
Unkindness, Passion, Selfishness,—from these
Flow all the miseries of wedded life.
Once these are rooted out, the Virtues grand
And gorgeous and divine, impalaced there,
Make Happiness of sorrow-bearing life,
And breathe through every action, word, and look,
In strains of joyful music and glad life.
In vain would I aspire to speak of these
In language worthy their beatitude!
My weakling Muse shrinks faltering from the task,
And dreads presumption punished; yet my words,
Although faint transcript of the thoughts that burn
Within my soul when speaking of these things,
May, like a road-sign, point to you the path
Unto the glories which they cannot show.
The Virtues are inherent in the soul,
And need no laborous study to attain.
The Virtues are the powers of the soul,
Obedient to your will. If you resign,
Weakly and wickedly, your sceptre to
The tyrant Evil, and bid them be still,
They must obey you; saddened, dulled, abashed,
Mourning and weeping for your fall, they drop
Their arms invincible and armour proof,
And helpless in themselves, are bound in chains,
And cast into the dust, and trampled on
By the iron feet of Ill; but still, with tears
And earnest prayers they ever strive to rouse
A better feeling in the abject heart,
And wake it to resist the tyrant hand
Which rules its courses with a rod of flame.
This is what men call Conscience, this sad voice,
Rising in supplication from the depths
Where lie the virtues chained, and by your hand;
For Evil cannot reign save with your will;
The instant you revolt, and raise on high
The standard of resistance, and unsheath
The trenchant brand of hopeful, high Resolve,
And wave it glittering, gleaming in the beams
Shed by Religion's sun, and with firm voice
And earnest heart command them to arise
From their humiliation—they are up!
There, glowing with the light of Heaven, they stand,
And clash their arms in eagerness, and cry
For you to lead them on against the foe,
That they in turn may free you and assert
The heaven-born supremacy of Soul,
And hurl usurping Evil from the throne
Erected as an altar shrine by God
For his own worship, far into the abyss,
Chasmal and gloomy, of dark powerlessness.
And then, the combat over, circling round
In joyousness and beauty, guard you like
A heavenly Ægis from all thought of fear.
The mighty Caesar in his triumphing,
When haughty monarchs drew his golden car
Through Rome's thronged streets, and thunders of acclaim
Went up to Heaven, like a whirlwind's voice,
Hailing him foremost of the kings of Earth,—
In majesty and power was not so great,
In all his gorgeousness was not so grand,
So bright, so beautiful, as you thus clothed
In angel-armour;—Honour, Faith, and Truth,
Humility, and Love, a radiant band
Of Heaven's choice spirits, casting round your head
A halo of soft light, whose wondrous power
Compels the love of all who feel its beam!

Thus far I've striven to depict the path,
Not vainly, let me hope, to Future's joys;
That in your new capacity of life,
Prepared by earnest study, you may shine
A noble light of Love and Godliness
Shedding sweet happiness around your hearth,
And o'er the loving heart that guards you there.
Thus far upon Life's path have I led on,
The Present is the Past—but shall we stop?
No! On, with the unconquerable will
That traverses existence in an hour!
On, to a higher heaven! On to the star
That glorious and effulgent beams above!
Maternity! Oh, holiest thing on earth!
What voice can hymn thy praises as it should?
Not mine, alas! my weak and fledgling muse
In vain uplifts her wings and tries to soar
Into ethereal Heaven, nearer thee,
And drink thy glories with bright wistful eyes,
And sing thy virtues as they should be sang!
Ah, no!—The humble tenour of my way
I still must keep in unambitious song,
Walking on earth; and yet not all on earth,
For Nature is akin to God, and she
Is the first aspect of Maternity. .....
No theme can be more holy or more great
Within itself than this; for in results,
Effects of vast import for good or ill,
The Mother's duties take the precedence
Of those from which they spring, as flowers do,
By reason of the life they bear within,
Excel the plant among whose leaves they grow.
Results, Effects!—Oh, Friend, o'er whose young life
The light of love and joyousness now shed,
Tints Future with its hues, and seems to make
The darkest fortune bright, the hardest kind,—
Trust not too much to Love! It is a staff
Will help you marvellously upon your way,
And when you stumble in the path, will aid;
And when your feet grow weary, will uphold;
And will in many ways assist you. Mark!
Assist you. So will Truth, and Faith, and Hope,
The followers of Love; but more than these
Is earnest and unconquerable Will.
The Will that stays a planet in its course,
And puts it in the scales, and weighs it there;
The Will that measures step by step the way
Betwixt the stars and it; the Will that turns
Back through the ages with unfaltering tread,
O'er buried years and nations, to the first,
The corner-stone of Earth; the Will that belts
That mighty Earth with lightning; that strains on
And binds the Future to its chariot-wheels;
The Will that says, "I will achieve and learn,
"That I may be prepared to face all life,
"Its purposes and duties." With that Will
Enshrinèd in your heart, stretch firmly on,
Without a stop or stay, through time to come.
That Will it is which smooths the rugged path
That leadeth to the Future; foster it!
Arm it with Justice, Principle, and Love,
Patience and Perseverance, and no power
Of pain or evil can retard your course.
First, after Love, is Patience. Lightest words,
Thoughtless and sharply spoken; slightest acts,
Done on the moment's spur, and heedlessly;
A quick, impatient look—a moment's frown—
May, perhaps, sow seed irradicable in
A child's young heart. Weigh every word and look,
And let each carry purpose on its wings,
Still looking to the Future and its wants.
A deep responsibility rests on
The mother's head. You think these words are trite,
And teach you nothing; this you "knew before."
You knew it; true, but have you thought of it?
Have you considered that the power of God,
As Universal Parent, for a time,
And in a part, is delegate to you?
Have you considered that a plastic heart,
Unshaped, unmade, is trusted to your hands
To make and mould? Considered, too, that this,
The form that you now give it, is to last
Throughout all lifetime, save God's hand remake?
Considered that the fate of nations, perhaps,
May rest upon your lessons? Who can tell?
Considered that they may be taught again
To beings yet unborn? Considered that
"The parents' sins are punished in the child
"To many generations?" See you now
The soul of these dim words, and understand
Their deep important meaning? How, alas!
Is it that men so seldom see the life
Which dwelleth in all words of Ordinance?
"The letter killeth—spirit giveth life,"
And yet men choose the letter for their guide,
And murmur that they do not comprehend!
Some day, indeed, if life lasts long enough,
And power is given me from the Throne on High,
I will unfold all mysteries to your eyes,
And give you, in revealings of true light,
A lamp that shall dispel the darkest night
Of Doubt and Ignorance that e'er inclosed
And kept man's soul from communing with God.
But I am straying widely from my course;—
I spoke of patience, and, I fear me, yours,
Is almost wearied with this long tirade
And all assuming tone. Bear with me yet,
And let the love that has dictated this
Redeem its writer's very many faults.

Be ever just. Injustice is a thing
Will warp a youthful heart most terribly,
And ripe to deadly fruit, and bear a seed
Will poison future lives. Be ever just!
Let not a word or deed make your child think
It has a charter of immunity;
But punish never you without due cause;
And punish not in anger; Justice is
With passion incompatible; forbear
Till anger has subsided. If your heart
Then longs to kiss, and cherish, and forgive,
Remember that the indulgence, granted now,
Will be again expected; and if you,
Reminded of your duty, punish then,
'Twill fall the more severe upon ye both,
And give the child thought that you are unjust
When most in right, for nature ever hugs
The kindliest belief as being sooth.
But if you weakly still allow your child
To follow Inclination's tempting path,
Behold you make of him a foe to God,
A scorn to angels, and a scoff to men.
Lo ye, the strong men of the earth. The men
Whose minds are strengthened, hardened, and attuned
By fierce self-conquest; men of proud emprise,
Who hold the body as the slave of soul:
Look to the future; think that what seems now
A kindness, will produce a deadly hurt;
And if you'd have your child be one of these—
Earth's only rulers—punish now each fault.
Use never force, for it humiliates
You doubly, self and child, which latter shame
Recoils upon the hand that deals it; thus
You do degrade yourself, and in the heart
That calls you "Mother," plant a bitterness
Will not wear out. Nor yet use tender words,
But sorrowful, and serious, and severe,
Even as your heart must feel at such a time.
Yourself must judge the punishment required;
But justly, and apportioned to the offence,
Rather too strict than lenient; and it should
Be such as would both grieve and shame the child,
Through self, through pride, and through its love for you.

Here I must cease, or cease I never shall.
Enamoured of my theme, I have spun on
To an unlooked for length, and could spin on
Through many, many pages, did not fear
Of tiring you restrain me. Here I stop.—
'Twould take a lifetime to pourtray each step,
But I have given you now an index which,
Though it may not tell all, will help you much,
If studied faithfully, to attain the rest;
To be a being beautiful in soul,
Crowned with Virtue like a diadem!
You know one such, dear sister, one of those
Before whose starry soul of Purity
And Innocence and Truth, all men bow down
In holy love and reverence, thanking God
That he has planted in their midst a shrine
Arradiant with His Presence; in whose light
They may learn Truth and Godliness, and find
That Heaven is not so very far from Earth,
But that its angels can come down to us.
I almost fear to speak of her, she stands
So far above us all. I can but kneel
In love and reverence, and pray to God
To leave her with us yet a little while,
To point the road to Heaven. Father, thou
Hast many such with thee—we have but one!
Oh, do not take her from us! Let her stay,
Still shedding brightness o'er sad minds, sere hearts!

Oh, I have prayed for power to wake thy soul;
To touch its hidden springs; to sweep its chords
With a master-hand, and draw from them sweet thoughts,
And good, and great, and godly. Have I failed?
God judge me by my will;—but themes like these
Are scarcely suited to a boy's weak pen.
They ask a wiser, greater hand than mine;
They ask a voice whose thunders could resound
Through every woman's heart from land to land!
For, ah! that it should be, earth's fairest gems,
The last and best creation of her God,
Are prone to think too little of these things,
And pass them by for gauds and gaities.
Oh, woman! I do love and reverence you!
Why will you not be what God meant you for,—
A grace and comfort to this mournful earth,
And man's instructor on the road to heaven?
Talk not of woman's rights! Do not men bend
In holy awe and love, and give her place
And precedence when she is worthy of it?
A pure, good woman ruleth every heart—
Her slightest word is more regarded than
The haughtiest monarch's will; men strive to serve
And please such women more than kings or czars,
And look upon their lives as dross, compared
Unto her happiness.
Her rights, forsooth! Where is she not supreme
Where she is loved?—and she might ever be.
Oh! dear ones, all and every one of you,
Whose eyes rest on these lines, resolve to be,
If ye are not already, Queens of Hearts!
Ye may be if ye will;—God helpeth those
Who help themselves. Be wise and good—be great!

Oh, that some abler hand would seize the lyre!
Oh, that some wiser voice would sing this theme!
My feeble hand should still be raised to applaud,
And cheer him onwards in the glorious path!—
This is the age of Heaven-thought! Tell me not
Of "Electrics," "Machinery," and "Steam"—
These are its adjuncts—greater lie behind;
Ere long the dead shall for the living work;
All men shall teach and learn such things as these.
All shall be peace, and much be purity!
Man soon shall study, not to eat and drink,
And make and hoard up gold, but to exalt
His mind above the mire and mists of earth;
No longer taken up with yellow pelf,
Mankind shall shake off Ignorance, and rise
Through studying God's works to study God!





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