David Herschell Edwards.

One hundred modern Scottish poets : with biographical and critical notices (Volume 4) online

. (page 16 of 27)
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Better shielded then am I
Though ten legions from the sky

Round me were beholden !


Merry stars are in thine eyes,
Music in thy soiidw's cries,

I'ierciny me like lances, —
Agony all full of joy I
O my brightest baby-boy.

Kill me with thy glances !

Happy, happy little thing !
All a cherub save the wing.

What hast thou with sorrovv ?
Trusting God will ever be
Kind eajh day to thee and me.

Kinder each to-morrow !


Jesus, I cannot, will not let Thee go,
I love Thee so :

Far less Thy love will ever suffer Thee
To part with me.

I know Thou lovest me, but cannot tell
How long, how well ;

And all the love that fills this heart of mine
Is drawn from Thine.

I feel no sorrow, and I fear no fear

When Thou art near ;

And all my sinful feelings droop and die
Beneath Thine eye.

let my weary head sink down to rest

Upon thy breast ;
And let me drink in flowing words my fill
Of Thy sweet will.

Thou hast Thy dear self of the pain I bear
The largest share ;

My sorest agony is very bliss

When I think of this.

When my weak spirit cannot rise in song,
O make me strong !

And when uneasy murmurings will not cease,
O whisper peace !

Upon Thy bosom leaning, let me there
Lose all my care ;

And gazing on Thy glory let me be
Made like to Thee.

O love of Christ ! that I can never know,
^i^or yet let go ;

With thee all sorrow from my life is driven,
And death is heaven I



It was soon told, the child's own simple story —

'Twas hardly yet begun till it was ended ;
And from this gloomy vale to heights of glory
The softly-falling footsteps had ascended ;
What wondrous power with weakness here was blended !
No sainted prophet, heaven-inspired and hoary,
Laden with some deep secret from the Lord to tell,
E'er had so much to say, nr said it half so well !

Panting, we press the little feet before us.

Led by a way we never should have taken —
Light from the better country breaking o'er us,
And the old world we seem to have forsaken ;
The meanwhile in our weary hearts awaken
Strange echoes of the old angelic chorus.
When from the Father came a Child of peace to men,
As if it had revived when one returned again.

Yet for our child how can we cease repining ?

More than he brought he took when he was dying —
From the bright sun he took the golden shining
And beauty from the green earth underlying,
And freshness where the open breeze was flying. ;
Wherever light and love were intertwining
There came o'er all earth's blessed things a cold eclipse
When the soul passed the marble portals of his lips.

We could believe, in one so frail and tender,

A true Omnipotence was calmly sleeping,
The universal Maker and Defender

Who holds all creatures in his all-wise keeping ;
He dwelt in one scarce old enough for weeping.
And when we tried oiir poor vain help to render.
The sweet child-eye gave answer, and it seemed to be :
Ye do it unto "one of these," and unto Me !

Oft of the future we were fondly dreaming, —

All trials — we, for his dear sake could bear them ;
And when he rose where Fame's high goal is gleaming.
His honours, too — we humbly hoped to share them : —
The dreams are past and gone, and we can spare them ;
There is a land where life needs no redeeming
From errors of the child, and from the parent's pain,
And where the hope of loving hearts doth never wane.

But oh ! we could have kept him still beside us,

A happy angel at our fireside ])laying ;
We recked not what the future might betide us
While he his soft cheek close to ours was laying,
With babbling lips some kin

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Online LibraryDavid Herschell EdwardsOne hundred modern Scottish poets : with biographical and critical notices (Volume 4) → online text (page 16 of 27)