Poems Teachers Ask For Volume I Part 30

The Eternal Goodness

O Friends! with whom my feet have trod The quiet aisles of prayer, Glad witness to your zeal for G.o.d And love of man I bear.

I trace your lines of argument; Your logic linked and strong I weigh as one who dreads dissent, And fears a doubt as wrong.

But still my human hands are weak To hold your iron creeds: Against the words ye bid me speak My heart within me pleads.

Who fathoms the Eternal Thought?

Who talks of scheme and plan?

The Lord is G.o.d! He needeth not The poor device of man.

I walk with bare, hushed feet the ground Ye tread with boldness shod; I dare not fix with mete and bound The love and power of G.o.d.

Ye praise His justice; even such His pitying love I deem; Ye seek a king; I fain would touch The robe that hath no seam.

Ye see the curse which overbroods A world of pain and loss; I hear our Lord's beat.i.tudes And prayer upon the cross.

More than your schoolmen teach, within Myself, alas! I know; Too dark ye cannot paint the sin, Too small the merit show.

I bow my forehead to the dust, I veil mine eyes for shame, And urge, in trembling self-distrust, A prayer without a claim.

I see the wrong that round me lies, I feel the guilt within; I hear, with groan and travail-cries, The world confess its sin.

Yet, in the maddening maze of things, And tossed by storm and flood, To one fixed stake my spirit clings; I know that G.o.d is good!

Not mine to look where cherubim And seraphs may not see, But nothing can be good in Him Which evil is in me.

The wrong that pains my soul below I dare not throne above; I know not of His hate,--I know His goodness and His love.

I dimly guess from blessings known Of greater out of sight, And, with the chastened Psalmist, own His judgments too are right.

I long for household voices gone, For vanished smiles I long, But G.o.d hath led my dear ones on, And he can do no wrong.

I know not what the future hath Of marvel or surprise, a.s.sured alone that life and death His mercy underlies.

And if my heart and flesh are weak To bear an untried pain, The bruised reed He will not break, But strengthen and sustain.

No offering of my own I have, Nor works my faith to prove; I can but give the gifts He gave, And plead His love for love.

And so beside the Silent Sea, I wait the m.u.f.fled oar; No harm from Him can come to me On ocean or on sh.o.r.e.

I know not where His islands lift Their fronded palms in air; I only know I cannot drift Beyond His love and care.

O brothers! if my faith is vain, If hopes like these betray, Pray for me that my feet may gain The sure and safer way.

And Thou, O Lord! by whom are seen Thy creatures as they be, Forgive me if too close I lean My human heart on Thee!

_John G. Whittier._

Driving Home the Cows

Out of the clover and blue-eyed gra.s.s He turned them into the river-lane; One after another he let them pa.s.s.

Then fastened the meadow-bars again.

Under the willows and over the hill, He patiently followed their sober pace; The merry whistle for once was still, And something shadowed the sunny face.

Only a boy! and his father had said He never could let his youngest go; Two already were lying dead Under the feet of the trampling foe.

But after the evening work was done, And the frogs were loud in the meadow swamp, Over his shoulder he slung his gun, And stealthily followed the footpath damp,--

Across the clover and through the wheat.

With resolute heart and purpose grim, Though cold was the dew on his hurrying feet, And the blind bat's flitting startled him.

Thrice since then had the lanes been white, And the orchards sweet with apple bloom; And now, when the cows came back at night, The feeble father drove them home.

For news had come to the lonely farm That three were lying where two had lain; And the old man's tremulous, palsied arm Could never lean on a son's again.

The summer day grew cool and late; He went for the cows when the work was done; But down the lane, as he opened the gate, He saw them coming, one by one,--

Brindle, Ebony, Speckle, and Bess, Shaking their horns in the evening wind, Cropping the b.u.t.tercups out of the gra.s.s-- But who was it following close behind?

Loosely swung in the idle air The empty sleeve of army blue; And worn and pale, from the crisping hair, Looked out a face that the father knew.

For southern prisons will sometimes yawn, And yield their dead unto life again; And the day that comes with a cloudy dawn In golden glory at last may wane.

The great tears sprang to their meeting eyes; For the heart must speak when the lips are dumb, And under the silent evening skies Together they followed the cattle home.

_Kate P. Osgood._

A Song of Our Flag

Your Flag and my Flag!

And, oh, how much it holds-- Your land and my land-- Secure within its folds!

Your heart and my heart Beat quicker at the sight; Sun-kissed and wind-tossed, Red and blue and white.

The one Flag--the great Flag--the Flag for me and you-- Glorified all else beside--the red and white and blue!

Your Flag and my Flag!

To every star and stripe The drums beat as hearts beat And fifers shrilly pipe!

Your Flag and my Flag-- A blessing in the sky; Your hope and my hope-- It never hid a lie!