THE FIRE OF DRIFTWOOD

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The very tones in which we spake

Had something strange,

I could but mark; the leaves of memory seemed to make

A mournful rustling in the dark.

Oft died the words upon our lips,
As suddenly, from out the fire
Built of the wreck of stranded ships,

The flames would leap and then expire.

And as their splendor flashed and failed,
We thought of wrecks upon the main,
Of ships dismasted that were hailed

And sent no answer back again.

The windows rattling in their frames,
The ocean roaring up the beach,
The gusty blast, the bickering flames,
All mingled vaguely in our speech;

Until they made themselves a part
Of fancies floating through the brain,
The long-lost ventures of the heart,

That send no answers back again.

O flames that glowed! O hearts that yearned! They were indeed too much akin,

The driftwood fire without that burned,

The thoughts that burned and glowed within.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

UNSEEN SPIRITS

THE shadows lay along Broadway,
'T was near the twilight-tide,
And slowly there a lady fair

Was walking in her pride.
Alone walked she; but, viewlessly,
Walked spirits at her side.

Peace charmed the street beneath her feet, And Honor charmed the air;

And all astir looked kind on her,

And called her good as fair, For all God ever gave to her She kept with chary care.

She kept with care her beauties rare
From lovers warm and true,

For her heart was cold to all but gold,
And the rich came not to woo
But honored well are charms to sell
If priests the selling do.

Now walking there was one more fair

A slight girl, lily-pale;

And she had unseen company

To make the spirit quail:

"Twixt Want and Scorn she walked forlorn,

And nothing could avail.

No mercy now can clear her brow

For this world's peace to pray,

THE ETERNAL GOODNESS

For, as love's wild prayer dissolved in air,
Her woman's heart gave way! —
But the sin forgiven by Christ in heaven
By man is cursed alway!

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Nathaniel Parker Willis.

THE ETERNAL GOODNESS

O FRIENDS! with whom my feet have trod
The quiet aisles of prayer,

Glad witness to your zeal for God
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 God! 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 God.

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 beatitudes
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 trust my spirit clings:
I know that God 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 ETERNAL GOODNESS

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 God hath led my dear ones on,
And He can do no wrong.

I know not what the future hath
Of marvel or surprise,

Assured 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 muffled oar;

No harm from Him can come to me
On ocean or on shore.

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