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Advent.

Y eyes are weary with the long, long watching
That sees the Advent moon grow full and wane;
My straining gaze no gleam of hope is catching,
My breath stands white and stiff against the pane

I see the snow-wreaths lift among the meadows

Before the wind, like spirits gliding by;
When, when shall I behold the fleeing shadows!
When will the promised daybreak flood the sky?

O watchman! is there yet no sign of glory
To break the darkness of the eastern gate?
No voice that tells again the wonderous story?
For oh, the promised bridegroom tarries late.
The bride stands fainting now before the portal,
Where long her watch and fasting she hath borne;

Will He not come once more with love immortal

To fold her close and bid her cease to mourn?

Will He not whisper words of tender blessing

To bid her aching loneliness be stilled?
Her work and woes and bitter wrongs redressing -
To bid her love and longing all be filled?

O watchman! speed thee up beyond the fountain;
Does nothing promise my impatient sight?

Break through the myrrh-boughs on the sacred mountain,
Gaze up mid-heaven, and speak some sign of light.

KNOWLEDGE AND REVERENCE.

The stairs are dark that point toward the morning;
The dove no longer finds the rocky cleft;
No shield against the cold world's cruel scorning

For her, of home and bridegroom both bereft.
And yet her lips are fragrant with the blessing

That soothed the weary and hath warmed the cold;
Her touch still lingers where her hands were pressing
The wounds of them she drew within the fold.
Her work is ready for His dear approving;

Her lamp stands burning with a steady ray;
Will He not answer to her faithful loving,
And bring the darkness into perfect day?

Knowledge and Reverence.

19

HO knows too much to wonder and adore,
Knows less, in sooth, than he whose reverent awe
A living Power in breeze and tempest saw,
And heard heaven's anger in the thunder's roar,

Or laugh of naiads on the pebbled shore?

To him for every change a Will was law,

The cloud-black eagle-had lightnings in its claw! And nymphs dropped rain from brimming urns they bore. We watch a chemic force in bubbling play, Till we forget the vital soul within; We leave no meaning in the new-born-day,

But the dull summons for labor to begin! Sheer night has star-gleams in its murkiness,

But the moon-dazzled eye is blind with light's excess!

Let me forget, O Heaven, when I behold

Of virgin Dawn the Sun's miraculous birth,
This poor Ixion of mechanic earth
Turning his grinding-wheel to heat and cold,
These orbs and orbits, and the laws that hold

The spinning globes awhirl! if in this dearth
Of reverence I might know, but thus, the worth
Of simple wonder in its Age of Gold!-

How from a vast mysterious abyss

The immense God rose, and from his boundless brow Flashed morning radiant with the eternities

Of Power and Goodness, bidding nations bow, And the awed heart to burst in songs of praise, Unstudied as the hymns the woods and cradles raise!

Ah, me! Less reverence with more light impugns
The law of growth! The enlarging continents
Of knowledge stretch the shore-line that indents
The unknown gulf, and all the mystic runes
Of wonder solved, give rhythms of deeper tunes
And subtler harmony. Splendors more intense,
From gulfs unfathomed by the line of sense,
Rise on the soul, outflashing former noons!
Drooped lids of worship shield the dazzled eyes;

The light behind the sunlight, Power in power,

Grow visible, and skies beyond our skies

Open to depths ineffable in that hour

When Earth's young wonder, love, and reverence meet The wisdom of her age, in unity complete!

O Tell Me Not of Heavenly Halls.

TELL me not of heavenly halls,

Of streets of pearl and gates of gold, Where angel unto angel calls

'Mid splendors of the sky untold.

My homesick heart would backward turn
To find this dear, familiar earth,

To watch its sacred hearth-fires burn,
To catch its songs of care and mirth.

I'd lean from out the heavenly choir

To hear once more the red cock crow,
What time the morning's rosy fire
O'er hill and field began to glow.

To hear the ripple of the rain,

The summer waves at ocean's brim,

To hear the sparrow sing again
I'd quit the wide-eyed cherubim!

I care not what heaven's glories are!
Content am I. More joy it brings
To watch the dandelion's star

Than mystic Saturn's golden rings.

And yet, and yet -O dearest one,

My comfort from life's earliest breath,

To follow thee where thou art gone,

Through these dim, awful gates of Death

To find thee-feel thy smile again,

To have Eternity's long day

To tell my grateful love - why, then,
Both heaven and earth might pass away!

A Christmas Hymn.

ELL me what is this innumerable throng

Singing in the heavens a loud angelic song?

These are they who come with swift and shiny feet

From round about the throne of God the Lord of Light to greet.

Oh, who are these that hasten beneath the starry sky

As if with joyful tidings that through the world shall fly?

The faithful shepherds, they who greatly were afeared,

When, as they watched their flocks by night, the heavenly host appeared.

Who are these that follow across the hills of night

A star that westward hurries along the fields of light?

Three wise men from the East, who myrrh and treasure bring –

To lay them at the feet of Him, their Lord and Christ and King,

What babe new-born is this that in a manger cries?

Near on her lowly bed his happy mother lies.

Oh, see, the air is shaken with white and heavenly wings

This is the Lord of all the earth, this is the King of Kings.

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