"Oh that mine adversary had written a book." --Job xxxi-35. "- William S. Boulton
DedicationTo my children and grandchildren
and to their posterity, these poems of
my later life (the earlier ones, perhaps
fortunately, being scattered and lost)
are affectionately dedicated. Trusting
that the notes and sentiments may be
of present interest and possibly of
future benefit to them.-JOHN GRAHAM BOULTON
Seattle, Washington
December 25, 1930
INDEXMaking a Book
The Map of Sand
Love is Never Blind
America
Mother
Fingermarks
An Elegy
Old Bill
The Atheist
Darwin and the Monkeys
The Grange
Heredity
Hysteria, Psychological and Empirical
Wild Flowers
A Shorthorn Bull
Dearest Mother
"Alaska" A. Y. P.
Birthdays
On the Ruins of Carew Castle
Shadows
To the Best of Wives
The Seasons
Thanksgiving-1910
Christmas-1918
Memory of 1888
Roses
Kittens
Autumn Leaves
A Letter
Fairies
Doomsday
Barkerville Cemetery
The Sadducees
Creation
Life
Death
The Soul
Where is God? A Prayer
The Vision of Moses on Nebo
England or Jerusalem of Prophecy
The Woeful Day
What Shall I Do
A Eulogy by Robert Burns to Jane FerrierMAKING A BOOKThe words of the wise are as goads, and as nails well fastened,
are the words of the collectors of sentences given from one
SHEPHERD; and as for more than these my son be warned."
--Eccl. xii-11. R.V.Oh that mine enemy'd written a book,
Then I could say to him: "That's what you say."
If he refuted by word or by look;
There is the evidence, right on display.When he arises to lay down the law;
Shouts his assertions, and jubilant cries,
I turn to his book, and look up the flaw;
Halting, he hesitates ere he replies.Sometime, indignantly, he will object;
What! O no, I never, never said that;
But this is your writing, you must respect
Your written signature: I have him flat.
Oh that mine enemy'd written a book;
Always this evidence right in my hand;
Should he retract it or should he revoke,
Future assertions are houses on sand.
Return to IndexStudy is weariness, books without end--Jan. 30, '30
Have been made, and--further--my son be warned,
On only one Author you may depend;
Gather HIS sentences if you'd be learned.
THE MAP OF SANDIn the morning when our dreams
Mingle with our thoughts in streams,
Then the poet's fancy runs
To mirrored pools, to rising suns,
To merry quips, profounder jest,
Sub-conscious hid in wakening breast.
Half asleep and half awake,
Dreamy visions arise and take
Their places in a shadown train
That memory seeks but seeks in vain,
To write within our wak'ning brain.
In these stories I renew
These half remembered thoughts to you
Hoping that ne'er my muse will fail
Till I have finished out my tale.
In northern wilds where peak and glen
Wait silent, far from haunts of men.
Silent, save for rocky slide,
Roaring down the mountain side.
Silent save for whirling wind
That leaves a tangled wreck behind.
Silent in the forest gloom,
Dark and silent as the tomb.With pond'rous paw and shaggy hide,
With step that swings from side to side,
Climbs slowly upward to his lair,
A fat and cumb'rous grizzly bear.
In sheltered nook by river wild,
The Indian leaves his wife and child;
In light canoe he paddles fast
Without the aid of sail or mast.
Swift down the stream, across the Sound,
He soon by patient search has found,
All hastening to his mountain lair,
The track of an enormous bear.
With cautions steps, creeping along,
The stunted growth and rocks among;
With ready rifle poised to shoot
He notes the track of bruin's foot.
'Tis arduous work, his shortened breath
Comes hissing through his clench'ed teeth;
His well-trained eye sees each faint mark
On broken twig, on loosened bark,
Till higher up and farther on
The crest appears with snow upon.
His wearied limbs he fain would rest
And search for signs the snowy crest.
Rewarded search has quickly led
To cave all worn by bruin's tread.
And now the hunter's climax come,
With half closed eyes, through gathering gloom,
He peers within the monarch's home;
Where mumbling o'er his horny paw
The bear, the hunter dimly saw.
The rifle cracked with deaf'ning sound,
Twice echoing all the cave around.
The mountain monarch loudly roared,
And hunter reaps his just reward.
The later tasks are swiftly done,
And bear is skinned by setting sun,
And as he views the fading light
At once prepares to pass the night.
A few dried sticks, some withered moss
He piles with cunning care across.
The flickering light reflected shines
From polished specks and burnished lines,
And here where white men never trod,
He views with awe the "White Man's god."
"Oh gold thou master none can please,
Thou tyrant none can e'er appease,
Thou author of each gloomy care
Who fills man's heart with black despair;
Free us I tell thee, e'er too late
Our worship turns to savage hate."
The Indian now proceeds to make
His evening meal of luscious steak;
And wrapped in shaggy fur still warm,
He dreamless sleeps secure from harm.
The morning came as mornings will,
The sun climbed coldly o'er the hill,
And roused by the returning light
He woke, astonished at the sight,
Here in this cavern, ages old,
The floor was seamed with shining gold.
From one huge central pivot sprung
Great golden rays that burning flung
Like fingers from the outstretched hand.
The golden streaks shone through the sand,
All burnished as with workman's care
By foot and limb and hide of bear.
With meat the hunter satisfied,
Wraps choicest parts within the hide.
Then on his sinewy shoulders slung
Some lumps of gold, the meat among.
Now swift descending mountain side,
He to his wife and baby hied.
But Fate whose ways are often hard,
And hid from layman as from bard,
Decreed the savage feel the sting
Of this accursed glittering thing;
And storm tossed on the rocky coast,
Close to the shore the boat was lost.
Strapped to his shoulders all secure
He brought his package safe to shore.
With flint and steel, disconsolate,
He builds a fire and having ate,
Dries his wet clothes and mourns his fate.
With sturdy stroke and skillful hand,Return to Index
A trapper speeds his boat to land;
Round rocky crag, from stormy breeze,
His boat is sheltered by the trees;
And by the surf is rudely flung,
The embers of the fire among.
The stoic Indian shows no shock,
Invites him to his meat and rock,
Part by deft signs, part broken speech,
Shows his misfortune on the beach.
The trapper cheers his new found friend
With offers of his boat to lend.
The scattered embers gathered up,
Upon the trappers stores they sup.
In gratitude his secret told,
He shows the trapper lumps of gold;
And for the boat in fair exchange
The Indian shows the mountain range.
With nimble fingers on the land
He drew a detailed map in sand . .
He tells his friend of wife and home,
The child who waits for him to come;
Then by the driftwood's lingering light,
Rolls in his fur to pass the night.
He sleeps; the Indian's tired limbs
Once more in dreams the mountain climbs.
His baby's kiss, his wife's embrace,
In smiles are mirrored on his face,
Whilst by his side in losing fight T
he trapper yields to lusts' dire sprite.
See him in darkness, shrinking glide
To the good boat by water's side.
With hunting knife a hole he cuts,
And in it some dry moss he puts;
Returning presently to wake
The dreaming Indian, bid him take
His journey, e'er the falling tide
Leaves boat removed from water's side.
The Indian quickly leaves his bed,
With bearskin and with meat he sped;
Still full of happy dreams of home
With fond wife beckoning him to come.
He launches forth, the swelling cords
Great power to every stroke affords.
Alas! I draw the veil around
The plot has worked, the Indian's drowned,
And cast ashore by friendly waves,
His body's mourned by Indian braves.
His dusky wife, her lover gone,
No more shall husband, smile upon.
His child shall fain to manhood grow,
No father's care shall ever know,
A stranger hand shall guide his aim,
Teach him to fish and hunt for game.
His father, loving, gay and bold,
Has perished through the curse of gold.The trapper now, his secret sure,
Proceeds the treasure to secure;
First studies well each mountain peak,
Each hidden valley he must seek,
Each roaring torrent, canyon grand
Depicted in the map of sand.
His practiced mind notes each marked nook
As scholar learns some ancient book.
Then rolling up his pack and gun,
His selfish search has just begun.
The Indian's footprints lie below
A coat of freshly fallen snow;
Thus rendering doubly dangerous each
Steep canyon's edge, or rocky reach.
Awhile we leave him, well assured
The golden sprite has him secured.Two days have passed, with chugging roar,
A motor boat plows to the shore,
And swinging up the rocky reach,
Soon anchors on the shelving beach.
The crew of four, Beach Combers they,
In little boat land from the bay.
Depending on their guns for meat,
At once they look for food to eat.
With much surprise they gazing stand,
Upon the coals and "map of sand."
Still wond'ring at a sight so queer,
Ascend the hill in search of deer.
Now was it fate, or chance, controlled?
Or some foul spirit born of gold?
That these united friends has led
To where the trapper cold and dead,
Lay stretched upon the snowclad ground
Shot through the knee, a bloody wound,
An accident, a trigger pressed,
An artery cut but never dressed;
And with his slowly weakening hand
He'd drawn another "map of sand."
Upon his outstretched palm of clay
A piece of gold all burnished lay.Oh! could I now my story close,
Nor tell of how these friends arose
And, glaring on great Mammon's throne,
Their hearts within them turned to stone.
But no, my muse must now relate
Of friends turned foes, of love turned hate.
They search the dead man's pack anew,
Some further golden samples drew.
They dig a shallow grave to hold
The remnants of the slave of gold.
They note directions on the chart
And start their search with fev'rish heart,
With rapid steps they upward hie;
Each views his mate with jealous eye,
Till on a narrow, rocky ledge
One tripped his fellow o'er the edge.
Struggling he screamed with frantic yell
If wak'ning, found his soul in hell.
The two who saw this murd'rous act,
With horror from the murderer backed,
Then rushing on him from each side,
They strove to force him o'er the slide.
The murderer cringing, begged, implored,
He prayed and cursed, he whined and roared
Much like a beaten cringing wolf,
He headlong fell into the gulf.
Crashing from side to side he bounds,
Whirling swift in dizzy rounds;
Till with a dull and sickening thump
He lies of dust a shapeless lump.
Look now! Behold the spirit lurk,
Grinning above this dev'lish work.The two are left, the dangerous track
Once crossed, much swifter time they make:
When mists and dews the red sun lave
They find at length the glittering cave.
And dimly see in mist and gloom
The dead bear in his glittering tomb.
Amazed they stand, in wonder gaze,
Then howl with mirthless mocking craze.
They cry, they laugh, they curse and swear,
Dance round the carcass of the bear.
Down on their knees they madly fling
And kiss that cursed glittering thing.
Worn out, exhausted, very soon
They lie unconscious as in swoon.
Next morn the first to rise, "is't fate?"
Takes up his gun and shoots his mate;
Dragging him to some torrent deep,
He throws him in like slaughtered sheep.
In course of time having staked the claim,
He to the recording office came.
The clerk, a man of middle age,
Who all his life had saved his wage;
Looked dumbly at the sample shown,
Heard the description with a groan
Yields to the tempter or to fate,
Tells him he comes a little late,
Another has secured the ground
On which the golden cave was found.
The wretch, by toil and memories wracked
Gave one loud cry, then something cracked.
Was dragged by brutal human strength
A raving maniac at length.The clerk, who now the nugget holds,
Records the claim, some tale unfolds.
He pays an old prospector well
To find the claim on hill or dell.
His hireling thinks the clerk is stung,
Within his cheek he thrusts his tongue,
And with the cleric's hard earned store,
Carouses, drinks and calls for more.
Each time he tells how just in sight
Is the gold hoard, on mountain height.
His money gone (he dared not fail)
The clerk for forging went to jail.
I know not if the records stand,
But time destroyed the map of sand.
And now my friends, who hear this dream
Which twixt the night and morning came,
Say not 'tis madness, fancy fanned,
Which raves of gold and maps of sand.
I stood upon the city street,
I saw the passers' hurried feet,
The careworn brow, the anxious sigh,
I asked, "Where go these passers by?"
A voice seemed echoing at my hand;
They're guided by a "map of sand."
They're driven by the lust of gold,
They have themselves to Mammon sold.
They no more for a living work,
For gold life's daily duties shirk.
Love, Riches' greatest rival, falls
At Mammon's feet as Mammon calls.
Each tries his brother's plans to cross;
Success means someone else's loss.
The weaker to the strong give way,
The cunning make the simple pay.
No peace or quietness they know,
No rest their fevered actions show;
But whirling on in one mad rush,
Each back his neighbor tries to push.
I looked again, above the crowd,
High up as in some tower showed,
A few who supercilious grin,
Watch the mad hurry, hear the din.
Whilst ever and anon they note
The glitter, or, of gold, the shout.
Then with some strange malignant arm
They seize the bauble, as by charm.
Thus, hawklike watching o'er the crowd,
A fierce commotion, sometime showed,
And from the tower's dizzy top
I saw one of these magnates drop.
Crushed by the cruel venomed hand
Of his own crew, of his own band.
I see him struggle in the air,
I hear the cry of fierce despair.
But never from that bloodless band
Is shout or laugh, or loud command.
Each scans his mate with horrid leer
And hawklike waits till gold appear.
Thus whirling on in dizzy maze,
The hurrying feet, the golden craze,
The outstretched arm, despairing cry,
The struggling figure in the sky.
"Awake," I cry, with outstretched hand,
"Who will destroy these maps of sand?"
Return to IndexLOVE IS NEVER BLINDHere we are to tell the story,
Love has light and power and glory.
Love is never blind.Love can see when bright eyes glisten,
Love can hear when lovers listen,
Love is never blind.Love can see the magic bliss,
See the lips and hear the kiss,
Love is never blind.In the city's thronging press,
In the raging wilderness,
Love can see joy or distress,
Love is never blind.Love will help you to remember
In July or in December.
Love is never blind.Love's for lovers don't you see,
I see you and you see me,
Love is never blind.See the flowers on the hill,
Watch their faces in the rill,
Love is never blind.Nests are swinging in the breeze,
Birds are mating on the trees
Everything with this agrees
Love is never blind.Since my writing this abstraction,
Female friends have got in action.
Love, they say, is blind.But this theory I'm insisting,
Women see, but unresisting,
Know full well, but truths are twisting.
Love is never blind.
To America, Columbus in fourteen ninety-two,
Sailed o'er the broad Atlantic with a bold tho' mutinous
crew.
Cortez conquered Mexico, Pizarro in Peru,
From the persecuted Indians, a golden harvest drew.
Across the Mississippi, De Soto first explored: And Coronado
wandered, seeking the golden hoard.
John Cabot from old England, to ninety two add five, Found
that the shore of Labrador, with fish was quite alive.
To the sunny land of Florida as he went coasting down,
He added North America to the great English crown.
Jacques Cartier, fifteen three four; in sixteen eight,
Champlain,
By exploration, add to France, all Canada's domain.
The brave Sir Walter Raleigh, the famous Francis Drake,(7)
But famine, cold, and Indians the colonists repel,(8)
The virgin queen Elizabeth, sixteen nought six the year,(9)
To North the Plymouth merchants trade lumber, fish and fur.(10)
John Smith with courage, guided the London comrades through(11)
To Plymouth Rock the Pilgrims, in sixteen twenty came;(12)
One year before, Virginia's shore with slavery was defiled,(13)
The Indians murder many, disease and cold a share,
And often then those valiant men were almost in despair.
John Winthrop, Plymouth's governor till sixteen forty
nine,
And Roger Williams, banished, to fair Rhode Island came.
Tom Hooker in Connecticut a freer freedom taught.
By William Penn, sixteen eight one, the Quaker State
was bought.
King Phillip's War from seventy five to sixteen seventy
eight,
Burned towns and farms, and great alarms were felt throughout
the State.
The Mississippi De La Salle explored in eighty two,
Louisiana to the French became a province new.
And now from seventeen nought one to seventeen thirteen,
Was fought the war against the French by Anne the English
queen.
Then followed great prosperity till French aggressions
cause
Great territorial changes by French and Indian wars.
From the year seventeen fifty four to seventeen fifty
nine,
The war raged almost ceaselessly along the boundary line.
All Canada was captured, Ohio's valley ta'en,
And Generals Wolfe and Montcalm on the Plains of Abraham
slain.
Young Washington was ever the foremost in the fray,
And by his wit and bravery gained many a well fought
day.
By treaty signed at Paris in seventeen sixty three,
America from rule of French became forever free;
Spain gives up Florida, then comes peace and prosperity.
Now thirteen colonies had grown to be two million strong;
To make us pay so much they say, the English king does
wrong.
Then Patrick Henry cried aloud, Ben Franklin said unite,
And sons of liberty said, we must now be free or fight.
Writs of assistance, stamp act and navigation laws,
The right to say what tax they pay is revolution's cause.
The Continental Congress in seventeen seventy four,
Declared their rights, and fierce the fights began in
one year more.
The year seventeen seventy six, remember well you may,
Fourth of July, with tear and sigh, first Independence
day.
At Saratoga seventy seven, to Gates, Burgoyne surrendered;
By France to Franklin a French fleet, at his request
was tendered.
With speed in Seventeen seventy nine, Clark drove the
British out
Of the beautiful Ohio with many a cheer and shout.
At Yorktown, Lord Cornwallis, to General Washington,
Surrendered up his army in seventeen eighty one.
Judge Marshall, Benjamin Franklin and Washington were
named
With Jefferson and Madison, who the Constitution framed.
From eighteen three to eighteen six, to gain more information
Lewis and Clark explored the West and add it to the nation.
The naval hero, John Paul Jones, gained great renown and
glory
Upon the sea in eighteen twelve and this concludes our
story.
Return to Index
MOTHER
Respected by everyone, envied by none,
This task completed, that is begun,
Her fingers fly swiftly, pr'aps dressing a doll
Or knitting a sweater or babe's coverall:
By a slight of hand she fashions a hat
From nothing, that looks like an aristocrat.
The babies all love her and tug at her dress,
And everyone comes to her when in distress.
The baby's got colic, O Doctor I pray
The doctor replies, "What does Grandmother say?"
Or pr'aps its a recipe for currant jam,
Or a pie or a cake or to garnish a ham,
Just phone to the sweet little mother and you
Will find out at once which is best way to do.
The children rise up, Her most blessed they call
Her husband, he praises her most of them all.
Little chubby fingers, often not so cleanFINGERMARKS
Making murky silhouettes, autographs that mean
More than written letters thrown aside when read,
More than littered playthings, scattered crumbs of bread;
Tiny arms that steady tot'ring feet from falls
With little fingermarks upon the walls.Fingermarks, just messy prints on window pane,
Fingermarks, mere shadows, fingermarks quite plain
Printed on piano, furniture and doors,
Streaked upon the mirror's smoky dust from floors;
Grandma' can distinguish each grandchild that calls
By little fingermarks upon the walls.Days and years pass quickly, grimy hands grown clean,
Visits grown less frequent, fingermarks less seen.
Tot'ring steps grow firmer, chubby limbs grow strong;
No more murky fingers, manhood comes along;
Still soft memories linger, childhood's voice recalls
Dear little fingermarks upon the walls.Return to Index--July 14, '29
When I am dead, my spirit gone,AN ELEGY
Shall my worn body, 'neath the ground,
Weighed down by clods of earth upon,
Be placed where crawling worms abound?I love not, whilst my life remains,
To contemplate the hideous feast
And fancy crawling through my brains
Some slimy cold and wriggling beast.Or later on, so it may be,
Whilst these same scavengers, replete,
Rest from their orgy, I shall see
Them creeping from the head or feet.Of what I was and am I now;
A vision one can ill desire:
I'd rather, and you must allow,
'Tis better to be burnt with fire.So when my useless frame has need
To be removed from sight of men
Consuming fire with greater speed
Will cheat those horrid larvae then.My essence freed from sordid weight
Shall float upon the cleaning wind
And it shall never be my fate
To be some archae'logic find.No man shall say, lo' here remain
What's left of poet that would be,
A dreamer who could not restrain
His restless wasted energy.I knew him well, He loved to speak
Of things that few men care to hear,
Or hidden mysteries to seek,
Dark problems he would long to clear.And, now, what's left of him is this,
A few bleached bones, a weathered skull,
A tombstone few would every miss,
Of epitaphs the world is full.Raise not to me some graven stone
Nor mausoleum 'neath the trees,
Let cleansing fire consume each bone,
Scatter may ashes to the breeze.Then shall I rest content nor be
Disgusted at the nauseous sight
Of things obscene devouring me,
Or what seems me as thus I write.Return to Index--August, 1929.
When prospecting on the mountains, or bucking 'gainst the tides;OLD BILL
Or when looking at formations around the rocky slides,
If we meet some old time miner, camping 'neath some hidden hill
His first loud exclamation will be "Hello Bill."If you want some information about geology,
Of contacts and formations and minerology,
Just hunt the little cabin by the hot springs on the hill,
And you'll find out what is wanted from Wise Old Bill.From the mines of Colorado to the shores of Puget Sound,
Hunting surface indications, or digging underground,
If you want to hear some stories of mountain, rock or hill,
Just list' to the adventures of great Old Bill.In the Kootnay mining district the 'old timers' know him well,
In the Skeena and Prince Rupert of officials he can tell;
Hairbreadth stories of adventure, and how men rose to power:
He will keep you interested for many a rainy hour.
He tells of Old Missouri, with many a startling thrill,
O listen to the stories of Wild Old Bill.As all of us grow older, and the last great prospect looms
Ahead of each prospector, and the great Eternal comes;
We speed him on his journey, none may wish him ill,
For he's his own worst enemy, is poor Old Bill.
To him, who in rage against the Creator and His Word, would damage public property and traduce a worthy man, by abusing a book he evidently has not read.THE ATHEIST
A self elected critic filled with hate;(On a library book, "Rollin's Ancient History," some one had written on fly leaf "The most utterly worthless history ever written, see Adams Historical Literature."
Unlearned, unskilled, unequal to debate;
A labor'd wisdom, far above his ken,
He sought to smirch by means of ink and pen.Poor foolish clay that with envenom'd hand
Reviles the truth he cannot understand,
His soulless carcass, turned by worms to dust,
Will never more feel envy, hate or lust.Adams was an atheist, one who hates any quotation from the Bible, as Rollin quotes.)
You cannot make a monkey out of me:
My father never lived up in a tree;
If he did, he had more sense
Than to ever come down thence
And be devoured by tigers, Don't you see?I never was descended from an ape;
Tho' plain that Darwin never could escape:
From his ape-like ancestry
'Twas impossible to flee;
And so he kept his former mental shape.When Darwin scribbled down his queer idea,
In a fit of abberation, much I fear,
He forgot to state the monk
From whom he came kerplunk,
Was a Catharine or Platyrhine so dear.Oh no, I never, never will agree;
That, as an anthropoid I dwelt care-free,
Scratching fleas up in an oak,
That was Darwin's little joke:
But tell me now of Darwin. Where is he?This point must interest Darwin most, just now:
That he made much monkeyshine, I must avow,
While he lived; but now his breath
To the dust has gone in death:
Live monkeys beat dead Darwins, I'll allow.Ten thousand years, you say,
From that elusive day
When Darwin's Dad descending all alone
Had learned to build a fire,
Or from his foes retire
To habitation built of rock or stone.It took all this time, you know
For his monkey claws to grow
Into a human foot that needs a shoe.
When a hungry lion rose,
He just grumbled thro his nose;
He had no speech to say, Please let me go!
Where are now the voices lowTHE GRANGE
Softly murmured long ago?
Where the laughter and the sigh,
Echoing earthward or to sky?
Where the guests assembled here,
Hostess furnishing good cheer?
Hard to realize the change;
In this William Boulton's Grange.There are few who linger yet,
Who in childhood must have met
Some of those who called it home:
Pleasant dwelling: now they roam
Far from old paternal walls,
Far from stately rooms and halls,
Scattered north and west and east,
Family compacts now have ceased.Still it stately stands today
Monumental in its way;
Olden time are mirrored here,
Silver, glass and chandelier,
Cellars, kitchen, drawing room,
Relics of the Boulton home.Gallery of Art, 'tis shown;
Still in gardens stands alone;
Guides now tell you so and so,
Ancient tales of Toronto.
Once the family compact plans,
Boultons, Baldwins, Robinsons
Frame new laws discuss their fate,
Future policies debate.Princes, Statesmen, Famous men
Praised the cooks and cellars then,
Broughams came rolling up the drive,
New Year's callers swift arrive;
Fur lined cutters through the snow,
Visitors of long ago;
Blooded horses stepping free,
Happy chatter, courtesy.Ritual of cake and wine;
Waits came singing songs divine.
Lawns, in summer, flowers blow,
Hot-house fruits and orchids grow
Long ago, so long ago.William Boulton willed the Grange
To his widow: is it strange
She should marry Goldwin Smith,
He should leave it at his death?
Goldwin Smith, by fate decreed
To Toronto gives a deed.
Grange, now Gallery of Art,
Of Toronto forms a part.
Two truant boys; two greyhounds in a chase.HEREDITY
Two blooded horses, foremost in a race.
Two lonely eagles, nesting on a crag.
Two Norman Vikings, spurning Harald's flag.What have these boys and eagles, dogs and men
In common, to recorded be with pen?
Why only two in one great public school?
Why should the bloods and greyhounds win the pool?Why should, alone, the Vikings scorn to stay
Subservient to Harald, homage pay?
As through a sieve the golden wheat may strain,
The waste and chaff, voluminous, remain,
So men, and birds and animals divide
Spontaneous to their heritage and pride.
To illustrate my thesis, I relate
The story of two schoolboys and their fate.The time was eighteen sixty or before,
About the time of the Crimean war.
The place, Toronto, once a muddy village,
The school was "Upper Canada" its college
The boys were S. J. Graham and Allen Bruce,
Their truancy was quite without excuse.
It happened this way, both these boys were young,
Both sons and Norman ancestors, who flung
The yoke of Harald Fairhair far behind,
And set their sails to freedom and the wind.The fire that mighty wheels of progress drives,
May burn the children's fingers, take their lives.Thus stirred by the self-same inherit passion,
These youngsters argue daily in this fashion:
Our books are dull, our masters strict and stern,
Our tasks are uncongenial, let us turn
Our thoughts to freedom--The wild woods are full
Of game abundant; Why should we be dull?
When even skin-clad savages delight
To live in freedom: let us take our flight.Then with tough bows of hickory we'll kill
The timid deer or rabbit; from the rill
We'll satisfy our thirst and none shall say,
Do this or that; this work is for today.
Thus we will grow up strong and free and brave;
The bear and bison slaughter; in some cave
Will find warm shelter; with sharp pocket knife,
Will fashion weapons. Happy! Happy life!Their perfect plans presented not one thought
That they, free skin clad heroes, might be caught.
Anon; one moonless evening, after prayers
They steal in stealthy stillness down the stairs.I will not say much more, in after years,
One boy, at least, confessed to tears.
After much mirthless, mid-night walk they reached
The gloomy woods; the awful owlet screeched.And ghostlike flitting thru the silent air
Demanded of them who! who! who they were.
A lonely loon from little leafy dell
Shrieks its complaint with shrill and startling yell.
They found no cave; the fronded ferns were wet:
By gloomy shapes and shadows were beset
These freedom hunting heroes, wide awake,
They laid them down to shiver and to shake.The morning sun revived them in a measure,
But never for one moment gave them pleasure.
Most hungry, wet and tired, yet loath to yield,
They stayed their hunger from a farmer's field.Nor were they grieved when friends at last appear.
And take them back, to punishment, I fear.
This does not end my tale, but the sequence
Proves "blood will tell" 'tis not co-incidence.The logic of my story, fain appears
After an interval of many years.
On leaving school, their pathways far divide,
Nor do they travel, ever, side by side.
One in the army, fights his way to fame,
A Brigade General, who was truant Graham:
Whilst Bruce, in engineering leads the van,
The boy whose enterprise at school began.Now comes the climax, four decades have flown
When General Graham is summoned by the throne.
From now his life will leave the thorny path,
And he will be "Commander of the Bath."Midst pomp and ostentation he repairs
On board the royal yacht; the trumpet flares;
The king and princes seated here in state,
Honor the worthy, some new peers create.The General kneels, by king is dubbed a knight;
Rising, amazed, he scarce believes his sight;
Here, bending near him, calm as a recluse,
His truant comrade, Now Sir Allen Bruce.
Not once in all these years, had they joined hands,
Each travelled his own pathway through the lands;
Each sought adventure, each had won to fame:
Sir Allen Bruce now meets Sir General Graham.The moral of my tale, if moral serves,
Is this, that like breeds like, and blood preserves
The ingrained tendencies our fathers gave,
Which latent lies inherent from the grave.
This story is all truth, save that alone,
I've changed one name to Bruce, 'tis not his own.Return to Index--Sept. 19, '29.
HYSTERIA, PSYCHOLOGICAL AND EMPIRICAL
When man arose from dust and clayReturn to Index
To till the earth from day to day--
His form was fashioned strong and rough,
With joints and sinews firm and tough.For he must battle with the world,
With sword unsheathed, with flag unfurled;
With ready hand to strike a blow '
Gainst cunning thief or savage foe.Thus man was furnished at his birth,
Full well equipped to rule the earth:
To slant the roof on wall of stone
For man and for his mate alone;
A dwelling place; a castle, cote or throne.And having thus determined man,
Nature designed a further plan;
Unconscious, drugged by slumber deep,
Woman appears to share his sleep.Woman equipped by word and guile
By blush or laugh, half hidden smile,
By soft smooth flesh, by finer bone,
By crafty cry, dissembled groan.Partaker of his fasts or feasts,
Women o'er-lords the lord of beasts,
And bending willow-like reduces:
She rears, directs; at first produces,
Quickly enslaves, endears, at length seduces.Man, called the lord of all creation,
Is ruled by woman's machination;
He, boasting of his might and sword,
By guileful laugh or tear is floored.Man wars with man by strength and muscle,
One strikes a blow, then comes the tussle.
Man wars with women; like the willow
Survives the storm; the foam, the billow.This, bends before the storm; the last
Crashes, unyielding, 'fore the blast.
Foam floats supinely through the storm
Until each weary wave is calm.
Thus rage is woman's weakness; strength is balm.When man contends with man, and anger
Supplants his courage, he no longer
Can claim a victory in fight
Tho' he may have the greater might.So one contending with her sex,
Through strategy and guile will vex,
Until the other lose control;
As angels fallen, lose their soul.Thus mind rules matter, 'tis empirical,
Two women never get hysterical:
One fears defeat, screams in alarm;
The other instantly grows calm.
Empirical or psychologic,
Instinct or reason, sex is tragic.Man's ways are logical, a woman's magic.
-Oct. 1, '30.
Return to IndexWILD FLOWERSViolets, violets everywhere,
Bleeding Hearts and Maidenhair,
Roses sweet and dogwood tall,
In the woods I find them all,
Garden flowers may grander be,
But oh, the wild wood flowers for me.-Spring, '16.
A SHORTHORN BULL AGRICULTURE versus A GREEK CULTURE When James A. Garfield was president of an Ohio College, a man brought for entrance as a student, his son, for whom he wished a shorter course than the regular one. "The boy can never take all that in," said the father. "He wants to get through quicker, can you arrange for him?" "Oh yes," said Mr. Garfield, "He can take a shorter course; it all depends on what you want to make of him. When nature wants to make an oak she takes 100 years, but it takes only two months to make a squash."
A gard'ner once said to his son,
With our customers let's have some fun:
For a squash plant an oak,
A-corn for a joke would take quite a long time to run.But the simple son seriously said,
Dear Dad, When your children ask bread,
If you hand them a stone,
Tho' for ages it's grown, They will think they have HARDLY been fed.The wealth that rolls out of the rock
May descend thro' successions of dead,
But the living I fear it would shock
To offer a jewel for bread.These lines were written in answer to the above clipping which was sent me by Dean ___________ who smiled at my predilection for "The Short Course" system, conditions prohibiting a full course. I, however, received a very favorable comment from a well-known Eastern educationalist to whom The Dean sent my verses.
Return to IndexDEAREST MOTHERThough forests intervene,
Though oceans roll between,
Though rocky peaks are seen
All above you;
Yet around you in the air
Our hearts are with you there
All eager to declare
How we love you.
When foaming torrents fling
The floods from lake and spring
Their echoes endless ring
Just to prove you,
That in mountain or in mine,
In stormy days or fine,
Tho' the sun may fade or shine
Still we love you.-B. C., 1910.
Return to Index"ALASKA" A.Y.P.The gold of the Yukon lies hidden,
Its yellow dust gleams on the shore,
To gather its treasure you're bidden,
Then come to Seattle, the door.Yes Seattle's the gate of Alaska,
The streams and the mountains they call,
Have you leisure to gather the treasure?
Seattle is calling you all.The 'Yukon' Pacific is calling,
There is treasure on sea and on land,
There is mining and fishing and lumber
And the golden dust gleams in the sand.
Birthdays are like milestones scattered on life's way,BIRTHDAYS
Marking our endeavors, whether sad or gay.
Forgetting all behind us; looking on ahead,
Buds of spring rejoice us; fallen leaves are dead.
Hope springs up eternal, heedless of the past
Sunshine comes to cheer us; shadows never last.
Birthdays come and vanish; troubles come and go;
Hope is everlasting, as the rivers flow.
ON THE RUINS OF CAREW CASTLE
And are they dead, and can it be
Their works survive humanity;
That princes perish in a day
Whilst palaces resist decay.Can the created thing survive
The mind that did its form contrive
Or Living Creature's song "I am"
Be dead Creator's funeral psalm?The fool alone his God denies,
The work in loudest accent cries,
"He who my form has will'd to be
Still lives superior to me."
The Carews are one of the few families now remaining which can trace their descent, without interruption from the Anglo- Saxon period of English history. OTHO, a powerful English Baron in the time of Edward the Confessor, was succeeded by his son Walter FITZ-OTHO, castellan of Windsor; from the elder, Gerald, spring the Carews and Fitzgeralds. He was in great favor with Henry I., from whom he received the lordship of Mulsford, in Berks. By Nesta, his wife, daughter of Rhys Tudor Mawr, king of South Wales, whose dower was Carew Castle, he had three sons: Maurice, William and David. William, who inherited Carew Castle, Co. Pembroke, married the daughter of Owen Gwynedd ap Griffith, king of North Wales and Gladys, daughter of Earl of Pembroke. This marriage united the two ancient branches of the British: The Tudors and Cadwalladers. From their son OTHO, the fifth in lineal descent was Sir Nicholas, Baron of Carew and Mulsford, a person of eminence, temp. Edward I. From him fifth in descent was Sir Nicholas Carew, Knight, Lord of Carew, who married Joan, daughter of Sir Hugh Courtenay of Haccombe, Co. Devon. This lady was the granddaughter of the Earl of Devon and Marguretta, granddaughter of Edward I. She settled seventeen manors upon her three younger sons. The second son, Sir Nicholas Carew, of Haccombe had issue, the sixth in descent being Sir Thomas Carew who married Elizabeth, eldest daughter and co-heir of Sir Henry Carew of Bickleigh, thus uniting two branches of the family. From him, third in descent, was Sir John Carew, whose second son, Henry, Capt. R. N., married Elizabeth Fownes, granddaughter of Lord Somerville, and had issue. Their daughter Frances married Rev. William Boulton of Toronto and had issue.CAREW CASTLELink to Carew Castle and other castles in Wales
Another Carew Castle link
I met a little maiden in the meadow in July;"SHADOWS"
See the shadows on the meadows, I heard the maiden cry; See the shadows on the meadows as the clouds go floating by Oh! The dancing of the shadows when the sun in shining high.The little maid was barefoot and tangled was her hair,
But thro' her sunburned features a poet's soul was there
And my heart gave back the echo to the sentiment sublime, "There's plenty shadows on the meadows in the summer time."And through the soft green pastures and beside the trickling rill Life's clouds are floating o'er us and cast their shadows still. Then bless the little maiden with the unkempt feet and hair Rejoicing in the shadows that she saw dancing there.
Return to index-Chico, 1908.
TO THE BEST OF WIVES
Tho' oceans deep divide us and mountains intervene,
Tho' nature builds her barriers of distance in between,
Yet still love's voice shall echo and pierce each barrier through.
My wife is still my sweetheart and I'm her lover true.Dear love, though we are parted, my fancy leads me where
My darling to her loved ones fulfills each daily care,
O moon and sky and sunshine, just whisper this refrain
My wife is still my sweetheart, I did not woo in vain.Ye cataracts all foaming that from the mountains fall, And you, ye granite summits that keep watch over all, Lend me your ceaseless voices, my pledges to renew, My wife is still my sweetheart and I'm her lover true.
-Klickane Inlet, 1912.
THE SEASONSSPRING
Here you see me, bright and gay,
Ushering in the mouth of May:
I have watered all the lawns,
I have warmed the dewy dawns,
Brought the birdies, made them sing;
I am Queen! for I am spring.SUMMER
What is Spring compared to me?
I am summer, don't you see!
Sweet the fields of scented hay,
Short the night and long the day,
Flowers bloom on every side,
I have calmed the ocean wide,
I have made the forests green;
I am summer, I am Queen.AUTUMN
Spring and Summer, what are they? With Autumn proudly holding sway; See the fields of golden grain, Hear the Harvest Home refrain, Fruit hangs ripening on the tree, Food for all the world from me. Surely it is plainly seen That I am chief, that I am Queen.
WINTER
Ha! Ha! I laugh to see these maidens
With their boasts so proudly laden,
All the work of each fair season
To fill my barns the only reason;
Spring and Summer, Autumn ever
To work for me, their one endeavor,
They are my slaves, Fall, Summer, Spring;
For I am Winter, I am King.PEACE
What is this I hear you say
Seasons, why dispute to day?
Know you not each season fair
Must all it's daily glories share?
For all are equal, sister, brother,
Each is naught without the other,
Then let us all join hands and sing
Peace and good will let Love be King.Peace and good will this Christmastide,
Peace and good will and love beside
Dwell in each heart and friendship too
From day to day the whole year through.Return to index--Christmas, 1920.
Return to indexTHANKSGIVING--1910
Bells are ringing, Children singing,
Heeding not the written sign,
Merry making, care forsaking,
Eating flesh and drinking wine.Joy and gladness, nought of sadness,
Laugh, ye mourners, while ye can,
Eating, drinking, never thinking
Life is but a feeble span.Image makers, Sabbath breakers,
Hypocrites build temples high,
Gild your idols, hide your bibles
Eat and drink, ye soon shall die.Watchman calling, night is falling
He that will return he may,
For him morning will be dawning,
God shall wipe all tears away.
Oh the joys of Merry Christmas, as we hang our stockings high,CHRISTMAS, 1918
The landmark of our ages, as the years go rushing by,
With hallow'd memories shrouding the laughter and the sigh,
The shouting of the conquerers, or the wounded prisoners' cry.The Belgians now are cheering, who last Christmas day were numb.
The Germans hide their conquered heads, who marched to sound of drum:
But to us who dwell in plenty, peace and goodwill have come;
To the cry of hungry children shall we, who have, be dumb?A happy, happy Christmas, we have got and we must lend, A merry, joyful Christmas, if to other folks we send: For blessed are the givers, and more happy in the end Is the boy or girl who joyfully shares with a poorer friend.
Dear, wilt thou wed me and walk thro' life's long, shaded laneMEMORY OF 1888
And with the sunbeams shining through, share sorrow, care and pain?
I love the grass your feet have trod, I love the air you breathe,
And round your soft and fragrant hair a crown of love I wreathe.
We'll pluck the roses 'mongst the thorns, beneath the willow tree,
We'll watch the golden sunsets shine, for us, just you and me.
Here is a full-blown rose with damask cheekROSES
So proudly flaunting all its beauty rare,
Its fragrant perfume half a world may seek
And with its texture what can we compare?Beside it hides a bud just peeping forth
From mossy robe so delicately green,
Thus hidden, none can ever guess its worth Unless the older, full-blown flower, were seen.No bursting bud with envy views the flower,
Which fading, nears decay and death and gloom:
This, bursting into pride, sees its own hour;
That, sadly drops its petals in the tomb.Nor contemplates the bud, that its decay
Must come, its glories ripen and at last
It too must fade, "Each dog must have its day."
The born must die; The future have its past.'Tis thus each dreamer contemplates the theme
Of birth and life and death, and wonders where,
In all this vast and complicated scheme,
The roses go to when they leave the air.The learned sceptic with his wit profound
Mocks at the lowly path that Jesus trod,
Resigns his future to a grass grown mound,
And blushes at the very name of GOD.His hope is death, and to the mourner's sigh
He lends no ear, he has no hope to give,
And when the weary and afflicted cry
He cannot say; A Saviour bids you live.
I have three little kittens and only want two,KITTENS
So I'll give up the black one, my dearest, to you.
I like the two gray ones, but the black one's the best;
I may only keep one, so must give up the rest.
He surely will grow up the finest of cats,
And keep the house clear of all mice and all rats.
Poor leaves, one time so fair, so bright, so green,AUTUMN LEAVES
Waving exultant in spring's fragrant air,
And now, one touch of frost, the gold is seen
Too late, alas, the bough no more may share
The latent glories, but another spring
Shall come and from enrich'ed soil new leaves
Shall rise, new life appear, and everything
Will shout for joy: Creation now reprieves
Her fallen offspring; naught to her is lost,
Sprung from the old, the new need fear no frost.Eternal life; what means that thought to me?
No far off star is welcome to my sight,
No form angelic, I, myself, would be,
I know that I will live, it is my right,
For my Redeemer liveth, on the earth
His feet shall stand, whom I, myself, shall see,
Mine eyes behold and not some other birth
Shall view the glories. From all evil free,
The rivers, yea, the floods of joy and wealth
I shall behold; I shall, myself, take part,
Triumphant o'er the grave, no failing health
No terror, envy, no misguided art
To hinder in the building of a place
For God to dwell in with His ransomed race.
Some child may come, some lover fond and true,* * *
Who with delight may sift the myrrh from rue.
P'rhaps in some book the golden leaf is pressed.
Or placed with rapture on some loving breast.
Perhaps some reader with his eyes a-dew
May read, may sigh, and may remember too.
Far from the glittering city's showsA LETTER
Far from all envy, strife and care
When mountain hemlock's lacy boughs
Droop, graceful in the silent air.The chattering squirrel, vain may scold
All jealous of his winter's food
For he has garnered wealth untold
With nimble effort, in the wood.The bristling "porky" sluggish glides
O'er rain soaked log and moss and stone
Behind his piercing armor hides,
Fears no adversary, lives alone.And high above, midst summer snows,
The horned sentinel grimly stands
Of fear or danger nothing knows
But watchful, guards his feeding bands.All these appointed by our God
May teach me lessons of His care
Whilst, wearily I onward plod,
Waiting, till I His glory share.They gather, each one in his way
The food He gives them as they need
Their meat and shelter, day by day,
This may example, this my creed.Return to index-Hyder, Alaska, 1928.
O Baby come here, O baby come here,FAIRIES
I'll tell you a story of fairies, my dear.The sunbeams were chasing the thistledown light,
And the sunbeams were chased by the butterflies bright,
The little lambs frolicked and leaped in their play,
And even the mothers were wantonly gay,
Whilst the maiden who tended them danced as she sang,
And her voice like the chiming of sliver bells rang.All nature is teaching us, maiden, I said,
Like the sunbeams and lambs must I follow thy lead,
Then her voice rang again like the voice of a bell,
"He must follow me far who will follow me well."
Now the little lambs skipped and the old mothers ran,
The tiny gray rabbits hopped as fast as they can.The birdies fly swiftly, still singing their song,
All nature seems skipping and dancing along.
All over the meadows we follow the chase,
With a whoop and a holla to hurry the pace.
The maiden still singing is leading the throng
Which aye keeps ahead as we hasten along.
But the gray headed shepherds, who dwelt by the way,
Shook their heads as they answered, "you chase but a fay."
'Tis a fairy you followed, "No mortal is she,
And her voice but the waterfall over the lea."
Oft' again in the heat of a hot summer day,
You can see her, still chased by all things that are gay,
Still hopping, still skipping, still floating, still singing,
The music comes madly, comes softly, comes ringing.And when you grow older and join in life's race,
And follow the fairies and phantoms you chase;
For phantoms will beckon, and shepherds will warn,
And fairies be followed at life's every turn;
Then, if in the heat of the summer of life
You lose in the struggle, you fall in the strife,
Remember that all is but vanity here,
Vain shadows, mad follies entice you, my dear;
The earth is beneath us but God is above,
The God of your fathers' is Truth and is Love.
I AM is His name, He Is, you will find,
He hears when you call, Baby keep HIM in mind.Return to index-To Euphanel, 1911.
* Cecil Rhodes, questioned by a well known Bishop, as to the effect of Christian civilization on the African; replied: "They come to us Savages and leave us Devils."DOOMSDAYThe peacock struts upon the lawn
And proudly flaunts his outspread tail,
But ne'er of danger seeks to warn,
And loudly screams without avail.
The lowly guinea keeps her eye
Fixed on the heavens' dreamy blue;
Sees first when pouncing hawk is nigh
And warns her fellows of her view.
Should storm clouds rise, or prowling beast
Threat her young brood, or feathered friends,
They trust her from the first to least
As loud her warning voice she sends.
The sleeping watch dog dreaming lies,
Or gnaws his bone in sheltered nook;
Give me, Oh give me more he cries,
And growls if at his food we look.Oh dumb dogs, sleeping in the sun;
Oh peacock screaming' 'Look at me';
Oh Pastors, crying Peace; Have done!
Awake, and watch, the danger see.
Oh ye dumb dogs who teach for hire;
The hireling cares not for the sheep;
And you, ye flocks, who proud, aspire
To flaunting peacocks; Ye shall weep.
And ye, who compass seas and lands
To make a single proselyte,
And turn to devils, savage bands *
Who love your vices, dread your might.
The time is near when ye shall knock,
And God shall say, 'Depart from me,'
Ye are not of my chosen flock,
Ye shall not of my glory see.My people, called by GOD'S own name,
I now, implore you, ere too late;
Oh Christian nations, who have fame
Amongst the heathens, learn your fate.
Oh lying prophets, preaching Peace,
Hell ope's her arms, and makes a place
For you, its smoke shall never cease,
JEHOVAH from you turns his face.
Oh House of Joseph, Brothers, Friends,
The trump of DOOM is sounding low:
The DAY OF GRACE in fury ends,
The Heathen rage and gather now.
For nations come from out the north,
Who pity never, never show;
The weapons of GOD'S awful wrath,
Preparing now to strike the blow.
They league themselves with Heathen lands
Whose multitudes shall endless be
As dust, or as the shifting sands,
And you, Oh Where, Where shall you flee?Great Joseph, like a 'speckled bird'
Alone, unaided, GOD-forgot,
His neighbors, all against him stirred,
Rejoice to see his awful lot.
His sanctuaries they desolate,
His princes hang up by the hand,
His hireling Pastors reap their fate
And dying, help to cleanse the land.My Brothers, Oh my friends, and all Who read,
Awake, Scoff not nor sneer,
Nor say, 'He is fanatical,'
Who sounds the trumpet; Hear! Oh Hear!
For GOD shall hide the pure and meek,
Their bread and water shall provide:
The proud, in vain, shall mercy seek,
Nor yet behind their idols hide.The scoffer, sceptic, infidel
Fears naught, nor cares for aught but gain:
But you, my Christian Brothers, tell Me;
What of all your works remain?
You boast a covenant with death,
Your covenant is disannulled,
The overflowing scourge, GOD saith,
Shall tread you down; your eyes are dulled.
Your crosses, images and spires;
Your fasts, your prayers, your heads bowed down;
Your incense and your holy fires
Will never bring reward or crown.You seek GOD daily and delight
In searching out his hidden things:
Your voice is heard, both morn and night,
Oh high; with shouts the pulpit rings.
Your altars, reared on every street,
In mockery point to the sky,
Whilst robbers in their shadows meet:
The poor on mortgaged clothing lie.
But darker than the crimes you dread;
Your revelries from eve to morn,
The blood of innocents in shed,
And children murdered ere they're born.
The day of DOOM, your fathers' dread,
Is hovering near: GOD says, TO WARN.
BARKERVILLE CEMETERYReturn to indexI dreamed among the level'd graves,
Beside the flowing stream,
Where once a rugged race of men
Dreamed many a golden dream.
Once more, in fancy, forms appeared,
Whose fearless features wore
The brand of toil, that only strength
And great endurance bore.
I saw them work with fev'rish haste
In gully and in stream;
Their labor'd days had but one thought,
Their nights had but one theme.
I saw the start of painful joy,
When glit'ring in the rock
The golden treasure first appeared
To oft, Alas! to mock.
I saw the treasure, hardly won,
Poured out with lavish hand;
I heard the shouts of wildest mirth,
As gold shone through the sand.
Alas! I sigh, what wasted power,
What wasted strength and health;
For gold can never quench desire,
God never can be wealth.
The stream that poured from mountain side,
With golden treasure frought,
Now, murmurs past the silent dust
That once that treasure sought:
Those arms, once filled with frenzied haste
To fling the dross away;
Now, lie in that discarded dross
Which mingles with their clay.
Those lips, once filled with joyous song;
Those eyes once filled with glee,
Shall never, never more rejoice
Or golden visions see.
The words inscribed by loving friends
With records of the dead;
Now, faded from all anxious eyes,
Can never more be read.
Our lives are but a single span
Which swiftly drifts away,
Now, is the time that we must live,
Account for every day.
-Written in Barkerville Cemetery, Aug., 1927.
THE SADDUCEESA proud, malignant race are they;Return to index
By scoff and sneer they hold their sway;
Rejecting, with a sweep of hand,
The words they cannot understand.
Despising the simple and the pure,
In subtle language they immure
Those truths that martyrs met their end
With smiling faces to defend.
In swollen words and glowing pride.
Their father's faith they now deride;
And not one hope they give instead,
For hope that cheer'd the dying bed;
For thoughts that stir our hearts to song,
As life's rough path we walk along.
They take our all, all we prize most,
And give us nothing: yet they boast
Of learning and of depths profound
In which to cast the solid ground;
Foundation of the Christian power
Which rules the earth from shore to shore.
All, all that ages, blood and brains
Have rear'd aloft with endless pains;
Have built up step by step with tears,
With patient thought and trembling fears;
On rock foundation, laid by God
When brooding o'er primeval sod.
They seek with dilettante hands
To bury in the shifting sands
Of scepticism, void and doubt:
In frenzied ecstacy they shout;
The breath of God but causes rust;
We start a tadpole, end in dust.
CREATIONIn the beginning, so the sages say,(1) Ps. 139
A formless molten mass of rock, the earth,
In darkness shrouded, rolled its ceaseless way
Thro' starless space, a world in throes of birth.Eternal Wisdom, soul and power of God,
So willed it that the mighty spheres involved
Contributed their strength; at Wisdom's nod
Around one magic center all revolved.Whilst aeons passed, mankind may call them days,
The world was formed, a massive, whirling sphere,
Nor lighted yet by sun's benignant rays:
Huge parasites sprung from morasses drear.Whilst slow the ages rolled, new life appeared,
Each form well suited to the changing scene;
Each new environment new species reared,
Great beasts, the mastodon, the herbage green.Then all was watered by a mist which rose
Evaporating from the mud and slime;
No seas are formed as yet, no river flows,
No mountains rear their lofty peaks sublime.In tropic jungles unmolested roam
Unwieldly mammoths, lizards large and strong,
And protoplasmic life like ocean's foam
Sprang into being from the rocks among:For God is life, He everywhere is hid,
And from earth's lowest parts, in secret wrought,
Leaped into being at Creator's bid
A substance memberless, 'tis God's own thought. (1)For man, designed to praise him at the last
Was fearful and most wonderfully made
And day by day, was fashioned as they passed,
Each perfect member who God's will obeyed.The hills were formed, huge mountain summits rose
A compass now was set upon the seas,
On mountain tops the mists were turned to snows
And light appeared and birds sung from the trees.All creatures formed from dust to dust again
Returned, and from the essences decayed
Sprang forth new forms which sang a new refrain
And dying all their debt to nature paid.Man now complete, his members all were wrote
In God's own book, Of all creation, Man
Alone was formed to walk upright, he spoke
Alone to God, the chief of all God's plan.He ruled the beasts, he called each by its name;
He tilled the soil and planted herbs and trees.
Beasts chosen for his use and food are tame,
Earth yielded bread for man's sole use and ease.Still innocent of wrong, of good or ill,
Of future life or death he knew but nought,
He fearless roamed his paradise at will
But daily food and happiness he sought.Then God said, Let us man immortal make,
Breathe into his dull form of clay our breath
And in our image shall this mortal wake
A soul divine superior to death.So man became immortal by God's plan
Unlike the beast, he now possessed a soul,
Now Son of God, who once was solely man (2)
His future now is written on God's scroll.These sons of God increased and multiplied
And chose them wives from out the sons of men,
Their wickedness was great, they God defied
They broke his laws and his commands, and thenGod said, We will destroy this evil race,
And from a righteous man create anew,
A people who will meet me face to face,
Keep my just laws and my commandments do.And there were giants in the earth when these
Immortals mated with men's daughters fair,
For they took wives of all that did them please (3)
And all these daughters' wickedness did share.Now Noah from the sons of God, found grace
With God, and he, to man, preached righteousness
And built an ark to save this evil race;
If they repented God would surely bless.But only Noah and his sons; their wives
Also acceded to God's perfect plan
And of the teeming world corrupt, their lives
Alone were saved, another race began.They too, alas! proved man corrupt and vile,
And scattered o'er the surface of God's earth
Built cities, tilled the soil, the while
They multiplied in sorrow or in mirth.Then God chose Abraham, a man who feared
The Lord; from his a nation shall be bred
To rule the earth; a people to be feared
Separate from sinners, by faith to be led.For years this people, slaves in Egypt stayed,
More centuries were passed in Palestine;
Till, in God's time, with one accord arrayed,
Their armies in the light of victory shine.God said, I gave to man a living soul,
And he, tho' son of God, still disobeyed;
He robbed me of my rights and from the whole
Rebellious world none for me is arrayed.But I have loved this world, these men are mine,
Tho' they from me continually have strayed,
They cannot save themselves from wrath Divine,
For my just laws they all have disobeyed.My spirit shall not always strive with man,
He said, for man is flesh and has no power
To do my will, 'Tis God's eternal plan
To save mankind in this his darkest hour.My Wisdom and my power and might I send,
My Son, The Saviour, The Eternal Life,
On His redeeming love must all depend,
A mediator who shall end all strife.So God himself was manifest in man,
A body He prepared, A sacrifice,
And by His SPIRIT He revealed His plan
To save men's souls upon the cross he dies.Come unto me, He says, all ye who are
Weary and heavy laden; I shall rise
As in the morning, glows the morning star
And shines in glory from refulgent skies.Come unto me, The lowly One and meek,
And I will give you rest, I first and last
The Lord, for I am He, All ye that seek,
Your souls shall rest obtain, forget the past.For those who will may come, none turned away
Shall be, Seek ye The Lord and ye shall find,
O seek Him now While yet 'tis called to-day.
For night shall come and darkness veil the mind.And He shall come in vengeance who in love
And patience offered men refreshing rest:
In righteous anger shall the world reprove;
The wicked shall destroy, free the opprest.-Feb., '29.
(2) Gen. vi.-3.
(3) Gen. vi-2.NOTE--With due respect to theologians, there is nothing in Genesis to suggest that the earth was not peopled before Adam, or that physical bodies were not slowly evolved. The waters brot. forth fish, swarming creatures, great monsters (R.V.) and birds. This agrees with all true science. If we believe that intelligence inspired the passage, 1-20, 21, we can hardly imagine that mastodons, birds, fish, etc., sprang from the water like salmon after a fly.
Again v. 24, 28, we are told that, LATER, the EARTH brot forth "THE LIVING CREATURE" after HIS kind, in addition to cattle and beasts after their kind. This, too, agrees with true science. No limit as to time is determined; But THE LIVING CREATURE, whose kind differed from cattle and beasts, must be explained. The 24th v. suggests; the 25th and 26th accomplishes. The order being reversed, and MAN substituted for "THE LIVING CREATURE."
Ch. iv-14, Cain complains--"Thou hast driven me from the face of ADAM (not the earth) and from THY face (The Spirit of God was in Adam, ch. ii-7) shall I be hid; and EVERY ONE that findeth me shall slay me." This refers to some civilization, evidently THE LIVING CREATURES, or SONS OF MEN from whom Adam was separated, and Cain took his wife.
Prov. viii-22, 31, forbids the thought of any spontaneous appearance of the earth, and agrees with science. Ps. 139-15, 16, describes a secret growth from the lowest parts of the earth. And a substance memberless, from which members were gradually fashioned "When as yet there was none."
Job. x. 8, 9, refers to the hand of God fashioning man as clay. Also, "pouring him out as milk, and curdling me as cheese."
The fundamentalist who advertises a glorified man as his god; the modernist who reduces his god to a scientific principle; the materialist who would be his own god, should leave the Bible out of their contentions.
The Bible is clear on the subject and tells us plainly that GOD is a SPIRIT. Also, "A spirit has not flesh and bones." Luke 24-39. Again, John v.-37. "No man has heard his voice nor seen HIS SHAPE." Particularly are we told, Phil. ii-6,7. that Christ (The Wisdom and the Power of GOD 1 Cor. i-24) BEING IN THE FORM OF GOD, was made in the likeness of man, or took upon himself the form of a man, for the suffering of death." (God cannot die.) This is conclusive, the form of God is not the image of a man. It is evident that if the form of God was the image of a man, Christ being in the form of God from the beginning, would not have had to take the form of a man if he already possessed that form.
This is borne out in Rom. 1. When they, the Romans, knew God (i.e. manifested in the flesh) "they worshipped him (as the fundamentalist still does) not as God, but made themselves the image of man."
That the SPIRIT or breath which God breathed into man, in order to make him a LIVING SOUL was distinct from the flesh which the earth brot forth, is evident from Gen. vi-3 "MY SPIRIT shall not always strive with man, for that he ALSO is flesh."
Also Eccles. iii-22. "The SONS OF MEN have no preeminence above a beast; ALL go to one place, ALL are of the dust and ALL turn to dust again."
Einstein tells us, "He does not believe that God is a man made large." Nor in "A God made in man's image." But he is not an atheist.
Plato taught that the laws of nature are the laws of God.
But Einstein "Cannot believe in a Being who interferes with the sequence of events in the world." nor "in punishment of sin."
Paul tells us that "sin is disobedience, or the transgression of the law." "The wages of sin is death." God's laws are immutable and inexorable which requires a punishment for sin. The world is governed by them; punishment is the natural sequence of breaking them.
He who, as Einstein, "accepts in real earnest the assumption of causality" should hardly deny the natural result of transgression, nor deny the positive need of atonement, or sacrifice.
A miracle is the operation of an unknown law, to deny it merely parades our ignorance. Jesus said his followers would eventually do greater miracles than he did.
LIFEWhat is life? a shadow vain
Filled with weariness and pain,
A fleeting hope, an anxious fear,
A wonder which is hard to bear,
A radiant morning, followed fast
By gloomy evening's chilly blast,
Storms, that succeed a silent calm,
A wond'rous ever changing psalm.Night follows day; day follows night:
We know not what the morning light
Will show us, whether stormy sky
Or brilliant dawn will meet our eye:
Uncertain future, Kismet, some
Have called our destiny to come,
Pre-ordained fate, or simple chance:
Mere dreams that theorists advance.Our lives are real, we must learn
From each experience to discern
The lesson set us day by day
To guide our footsteps on the way.
With faith and hope to cheer us on,
We welcome stars when sun is gone,
Remember that the stars are there
When dark clouds lead us to despair.What need we of some lantern dim,
If we desire to follow Him,
Who is the light of all the world,
Who once the prince of darkness hurled
From erstwhile dwelling in the skies,
A fugitive, the prince of lies;
He is the one who clouds our gaze,
To hide us from celestial rays.Faith, charity and hope, these three
Are great, the greatest, charity.
Love for our neighbors, for our friends,
And here our loving kindness ends,
For if we love our enemy
We must be friends in some degree.
Then faith comes next, but if we fall,
Hope is the light that cheers us all.Return to index-Sept. 19, '29
DEATHO Death, thou great avenger,(1) Psalm 45-9, 14.
Where is thy cruel sting?
We do not feel thy venom
Thou dost no terror bring.To us thou art a pathway,
A glorious, shining light
Which leads to friends and victory
Where darkness ends, and night.Our Saviour waits to welcome,
Our loved ones gone before
Rejoice in the re-union
When death swings back the door.No more sorrow, no more parting,
Why wish our loved ones here
With the trials and temptations
The weariness and fear.Rather let us thank our Saviour
That He sees fit to send
And take His loved ones to Him
Where weariness will end.Rejoicing in their welfare
Let us follow day by day
With The Holy Spirit guiding
And teaching us to pray.Then we in time shall join them
Who may n'er to us return
And in the many mansions
Shall of His glories learn.There the King in all His beauty
And queen await our praise, (1)
The virgins, her companions,
Meet our admiring gaze.Mine eyes and not another's
Shall view our Lord and King.
For our Redeemer liveth
And rules o'er everything.-July 7, '29.
THE SOULWhat is the soul? I've oft' been asked of late,(1) Gen. vi-3.
Where is its dwelling? What may be its fate?
When the cold clay returns to dust again,
Does the soul disappear or still remain
Unconscious until at some future day
Life stirs again what's left of lifeless clay?What is the soul? Is is the active brain
That sends its nervous messengers of pain
To warn the members most remote or near
Of ill to come, of hunger, thirst or fear?
Is it a substance felt of heard or seen?
Is it an organ, like the heart or spleen?Have beasts no soul? he cries, all cats and dogs
And men alike have sprung from spawn of frogs;
Our fathers from the lofty tree top swung,
Or gibbering on its lower branches hung,
Their souls, like mine, rejoiced in meat and drink,
Perpetuate the species was to think.Philosophy is but these attributes
Evolved by sad experience from the brutes.
O Glorious man who could by his own lust
Evolve a creature so removed from dust;
Tho sad it is that after all this pain
This glorious man returns to dust again.Thus the philosopher, he whose thoughts may rise
No higher than his own vision of the skies;
To whom the wisdom of Almighty God
Is but the folly of some yokel clod:
Who cannot know, whose mind may not discern,
Who of the soul may never, never learn.The man of clay, The Adam, like a beast
Who knew of good or evil not the least,
Who naked roamed his garden unashamed
And as the soulless beast could not be blamed:
How is it Wisdom from the sons of men
Chose one alone to be immortal then?Ask the agnostic, ask the infidel
How Wisdom saves the sons of men from hell,
The grave or sheol, to be plain, from death.
And makes the man immortal by His breath.
They cannot tell, they do not care or know
How from God's breath, the soul of man may grow.They love to feel that all they are has risen
Without a soul, and in an earthbound prison
Their worn out essence in eternal sleep
Without a God shall sink, oblivion keep.
A disintegrate, dead and formless silt
The atheist haven, by the atheist built.Can beasts declare what ultimate may be,
Reveal the past, the distant future see?
Can the dumb brutes explain how ice and snow
Lock up the earth so herbage cannot grow;
Or will the beast discard the grosser leaven
To gain an entry to a future heaven.But there are those who willingly incline
Their ears to Wisdom, from whose faces shine
The light of understanding, and the soul
Reflects the glorious gospel like a scroll
Emblazoned teaches who desire to read,
Of paths that to the vulture's eye are hid.What is the soul? Lift up thy voice and cry
For knowledge and for understanding sigh;
As he who seeketh for hid treasures seek,
The knowledge of the soul is for the meek.
The soul of God is WISDOM, none but He
Designed the stars, the earth, the raging sea.The soul is understanding, can you weigh
Wisdom in balances? Can truth decay?
How can philosophy find Wisdom's height
Or length or breadth? How can the sceptic's sight
Reveal to man who Wisdom chose to give
His spirit that the man of clay should live?The everlasting, in the ages past
Immortal spirit, He, The First and Last,
Breathed in man's nostrils and revealed His plan,
"My SPIRIT shall not always strive with man."
This man, a living soul, IS FLESH ALSO,
For three score years his mortal life shall flow. (1)Then shall his flesh return to dust, and free
My striving SPIRIT shall return to ME.
The soul immortal, in God's image made,
The living creature, who has disobeyed,
O can these two once more be reconciled
By Him the Holy, Harmless, Undefiled?What is the soul? It is the breath of GOD,
The breath of life which turned the earthborn clod
Into the image of the DEITY
Immortal SPIRIT of infinity.
This is the soul which GOD to Adam gave
And sent His Son into the world to save.I am my soul. My heart, my hand, by brain
Are merely messengers of care and pain.
What knows the limb of joy or hope or fear?
Or gave it weight when knowledge did appear?
I am my soul and when my limbs to clay
Shall turn, night turns for me to day.
Return to indexWHERE IS GOD? A PRAYEROh somber priest; Oh saints enshrined in stone,
Oh crucifix or cross inlaid with gold;
Dost hear my sigh as kneeling here I moan
Where is my GOD? How may I find his fold?My works are nought, I know my prayers are sin.
I am not his unless he dwells in me. (1)
And if within me, Yes! He says within.
Thou art not far and I am near to thee.Then knowing this, contented I rely
On God along, who gave for me his soul;
In confidence and peace I live or die,
God dwells in me; His power has made me whole.Come unto me, all weary laboring ones,
My yoke is easy and my burden's light;
As stars reflect the burning blaze of suns,
So you may shine throughout the passing night.So he, The Shepherd, calls his wandering sheep,
Nor calls in vain, if even one may hear.
Oh dreamer, wake, 'tis not the time to sleep,
He comes, The vengeance of God's wrath is near.(1) Rom. viii-9. Eph. iv-6.
THE VISION OF MOSES ON NEBOIt is being gradually admitted that the Teutonic or ScythianTHE HEBREW NATIONS
nations of Europe represent the overflow of the Hebrew nations during a period of more than 1500 years. It must be remembered that Palestine was overflowed by the first settlement under Joshua.This is emphatically borne out by the Hebrew prophets. The boundaries of Israel as foretold by the prophets are the boundaries of Christendom, or Europe and America.
Every place from the River, the river Euphrates, EVEN unto the UTTERMOST sea (Pacific) shall be our coast (Deut. xi-24). And as for your WESTERN BORDER, ye shall EVEN have the Great sea (ocean) for a border. This shall be your WEST border (Num. xxxiv-6). And ALL the land from LEBANON (coast of Mediterranean) unto the Great sea at the going down of the sun (West) (Joshua i-4). And all the land unto the Utmost sea (Deut. xxxiv-2).
Num. 34-4. "And your south border shall be the extremity of the salt sea eastward." i. e. from west to east. "And your SOUTH BORDER shall fetch a compass (or circuit) from THE FORTRESS (Azmon) unto The river of Egypt," or Nile. This indisputably fixes the mediterranean as the south boundary of Israel or Christ's Kingdom.
England ............................Ephraim also Jerusalem or Ariel
Scotland ...........................Manasseh
Britain ..............................Joseph
Germany ..........................Judah
Holland .............................Benjamin
Belgium ............................Reuben
Denmark ..........................Zebulun
Norway and Sweden ......Dan
Iceland ..............................Issachar
Austria .............................Asher
Italy ...................................Naphtali
Switzerland .....................Gad
The Jews ..........................Levi
United States ..................Samaria
France ..............................Edom
Spain .................................Moab
Portugal ............................Ammon
Armenia ...........................Machir
Turks .................................Ishmael
Arabs .................................Hagarites
Balkan States ...................Sons of Keturah
Gypsies...............................The Kenites, descendants of Moses'
father-in-law (Midianites)
Russia .................................Amalek
South Ireland ....................Phoenicians or Philistines.This affords a key to the nations of prophecy.
* "By myself have I sworn, saith the Lord; That in blessing I will bless Thee, and in multiplying I will multiply Thy seed as the stars." Gen. xxii-17, xxviii-14 "And Thy seed shall be as the dust of the earth, and shall spread abroad to the east and west and north and south."
Also ch. xvii-4, 5, 6. "Many nations."
The Seer stood on Nebo's crest
And far--unto the utmost sea--
The land, reserved at God's behest,
He viewed in speechless ecstacy.His vision compassed mountain chains,
Whilst mighty oceans rolled and swelled,
And fertile fields and endless plains,
Unbounded forests he beheld.
A thousand millions might enjoy
The land reserved for Abram's boy.Saw every place from Lebanon
And the great river, Euphrates,
Westward, until the setting sun
Shined on the uttermost of seas.
The land of Gilead and Dan,
Imperial Judah's royal see
And Joseph's empire where a man
May dwell from all oppression free.
Jehovah's oath confirmed the deed,
The covenant to Abram's seed.Alone, the Seer gazed in awe,
Saw Israel's marshalled ranks go by,
Great Israel's future armies saw
Where one shall make a thousand fly.
There Dan, in ships, explored the main
Or left his trail throughout the world
And call'ed by his father's name
The cities where his flag unfurled,
For Israel's Scythian hosts explore
The lands ordained of God before.All through the rule of priests and kings
And judges, some ordained of God;
Whilst Jeptha vows and David sings
Or Israel bows 'neath foreign rod,
The Hebrew women still give birthTo sons decreed to fill the earth.
The Saxon wanderers wend their way,
"Whose laws are righteous, just and good"
O'er conquered heathen hold their sway,
Butter and honey is their food.
The fierce Germani lend their aid
To bring proud Babylon and Tyre
To lick the dust, for God has said,
Israel shall conquer, foes expire.
And still the Hebrew mothers send
Fresh millions to fulfil His end.Proud Cyrus falls, his dripping head
Warns Persians, Greeks and future Rome
That God's own "Wanderers" shall be fed
In God's inheritance, their home.
Germani, Saxon, Getae, all,
Emmanuel's land their home shall call.The Trojan Danoi, Hebrew still,
Found Rome's proud city, London found;
Driven from Troy's fierce burning hill
Throughout the earth is heard their sound.From Omri's city, K'humri named,
New hosts pour forth to conquer all;
Guthudae, as God's people famed,
Appear and comes Rome's tragic fall,
For Persia, Greece and Rome must bend
To Israel's arms when God shall send.
Al this the Seer viewed and more,
He saw Dark Levi's cruel hand
Erect the gibbet which before
He typified on Desert sand.
And Simeon's fierce anger burned
When he betrayed the Son of Man,
Whilst on himself and Levi turned
The curse, it was Jehovah's ban,
For scattered 'mongst their brethren they
Deny the Lord they should obey.Far to the North "The Wall" appears,
The wall of everlasting snows,
"The Hidden Way" Where darkness rears
A boundary where Israel bows.
"The Eastern Salt Sea," Southern shore,
From Nile to Gate of Hercules
Bounds Israel's land and Israel's power
Extends to ocean's "Utmost Seas."
A people terrible and strong
To whom these western lands belong.
Oh, wondrous Land, Oh, infinite
The Wisdom which directs this state,
The laws which govern, "Just and right,"
Obey, and glorious is their fate.
When the Most High, in ages past,
Allotted fallen men their place,
The best to Israel's lot was cast,
To Israel, the favored race.
But keep my covenant, said He,
The land is yours perpetually.And north and south and east and west
Teutonic Israel spreads its wings,
Whilst Joseph's millions stand confest
Formost in all that progress brings.
Samaria too, from Joseph sprung,
Remote, at going down of sun,
On farthest western shore, their tongue
Is Joseph's, all may read who run,
For multitudes of nations call
Her mother, who shall lead them all.'Tis writ in covenant of old
That Joseph's race the world shall lead,
His brethren, who him once had sold,
Shall bow the knee to Joseph's breed
For sun and moon and stars shall bow
To Joseph when he lifts his hand,
And Queen and kings shall all allow
That Joseph's seed is like the sand;
Should he in pride forget his God,
He prostrate falls before the rod.Above them all, the Seer beheld
The kingly race of David's seed
Whose house shall rule and unexcelled
Shall lead them all in word and deed.
His royal race led Troy's fierce arms,
His vikings proud brave northern seas,
Whilst Ephraim, plunged in war's alarms,
To Conqueror's Norman rule, agrees
To David's house of Judah's race
And Joseph's land must all give place.The prophet stood with streaming eyes,
For centuries have passed away;
Most dreadful visions he descries;
At last has come the "Woeful Day"
The people have forgot their God,
Agnostic, Skeptic, Infidel
Now prostrate lie before His rod,
Tormented in His lowest hell;
Here hypocrites and scoffers lie
And perish in their agony.Now famine, pestilence and sword
And evil beasts destroy the land,
Each, every plague with one accord
With terror joins on either hand.
The seed lies rotting in the fields,
The fruit tree sheds its latent bud,
The vine its grapes no longer yields,
Cities are wrecked "neath storm and flood.
Whilst thief and murderer hidden lurk;
Worms, locusts, mildew do their work.The barns are empty, storehouse bare
The famished dead unburied lie
The mother eats her new born heir,
The father wills his son shall die.
Proud priests and princes foully slain
Lie rotting on an unkind sod
And all is misery and pain,
The people have forgot their God:
Hidden in corners, here and there,
Who trust in Him their God shall spare.The Lord doth reign, let earth be still,
And humbly bow beneath his power,
For who can once resist his will
And live for even one short hour?
The earth is quiet, once again
The harvest ripens, flocks increase;
Mirth, joy and gladness, sweet refrain
Once more are heard and n'er shall cease.
Now, Israel once more restored
Shall render homage to their Lord.The people shall all righteous be,
The wicked perished from the earth,
Tribute is brought on bended knee
From every tribe of heathen birth.
For iron, silver shall be brought
For brass is given burnished gold.
Iron, as stones, shall be as naught
And wisdom's wings again unfold;
As waters deep fill full the sea
The knowledge of the Lord shall be.The prophet with his hand upraised
Blesses his people once again,
Praises the God, he oft has praised
And slow descends to Moab's plain.
His sepulchre shall no man know,
For in a valley still and deep,
God buried him whilst none may show
His tomb where mountains guard his sleep.
This Moses, sole of all his race,
Spoke to Jehovah face to face.
ENGLAND or JERUSALEM OF PROPHECYIf I forget thee, O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget her cunning. If I do not remember thee, let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth; if I prefer not Jerusalem above my chief joy.
O God uphold me till I show
In burning words and truth divine,
And make this recreant people know
Their destiny, the words are thine.O Watchman, tell me of the night,
The clouds hang heavy in the sky,
I see no ray of crystal light,
The door is shut; is cast the die.I see the overflowing scourge,
I see grim death on either hand,
O God of Israel, Thou shalt purge
And cleanse withal Thy promised land.Ye scornful priests and learned men
Belch forth your lips and scoffing growl,
The judge is at the door, Ah, then
Your sneers shall change to whine and howl.Awake you slumb'rers 'tis the time
To watch; the midnight hour has tolled,
The cities' streets are steeped in crime,
Truth, justice, equity are sold.For truth has fallen in the street
And justice standeth far away,
Whilst judgment, backward, turns her feet
And equity is made a prey.O Ariel, O Ariel, (1)
Mine eyes flow down in ceaseless tears,
Thy glorious land is steeped in hell,
In sorrow, heaviness and fears.Jerusalem, thou pleasant land,
Home of our father's fathers:
Hear! Thine enemies are like the sand,
Behold! their marching feet appear.I see the suckling's burning tongue
Cleave to his mouth in cruel thirst,
The dilettante priests are hung;
The Nobles slain; The last is first.Oh! Is there nothing I can say
To rouse them from this sleep profound;
The marching hosts from day to day I hear;
I hear the trumpet sound.Trust not the lying priests who cry,
'The temple of the LORD are they,'
Amend your ways or ye shall die,
Do justice and amend your way.Then hear, O earth! Ye nations hear!
For evil comes upon this land,
That will not rest from year to year,
Till cleansed, the sanctuary shall stand.Give me a clarion trumpet shrill!
Give me a harp! Give me a psalm!
Give me a voice: O give me skill
To rouse thee, O Jerusalem.O Watchman, waiting on the walls,
Hold not thy peace, nor day, nor night
Til God, Jerusalem installs
A praise on earth and in his sight.Aug. 29, '29.
(1) "The Lion of God"
"THE WOEFUL DAY""For as the lightning cometh out of the East, and shineth even unto the West; so shall also the coming of the Son of Man be."
Hark, my people, ringing clear
Through the ever-sounding air,
A warning voice is calling, now, Behold the day appears;
For the LORD from out his place
Comes to close the day of grace,
Iniquity shall end in shame and agony and tears.He shall dwell in perfect peace
And his glory shall increase,
Who holds the LORD JEHOVAH for his everlasting strength.
They that dwell on high shall bow
When the lofty are laid low,
The land shall shake and tremble then throughout its breadth and length.Let not favor now be shewed
To the haughty or the proud,
For he will not learn righteousness when plenty doth abound:
Now, the haughty are ashamed
When the name of GOD is named,
The scorners supercilious sneer from learned depths profound.When thy hand is lifted up
They shall taste and drink the cup;
The fury of their enemies shall pluck them from the land.
LORD, thou wilt ordain our peace,
Who our works hast wrought for us;
Thou wilt increase the nation like the stars and like the sand.LORD, in this woeful day
The oppressed and poor shall pray;
With thy chastening hand upon them the meek shall visit thee;
For the scornful person saith
We've a covenant with death,
The overflowing scourge, appearing, shall not come nigh me.The people cry each day,
Come down, O LORD, they say,
Look down from heaven, behold us, where is thy zeal and strength?
Oh that thou the heavens would rend
And thy mighty angels send,
Thy foes have trod thy sanctuary down throughout its breadth and length.Let thy chosen people learn,
Through thy judgments, LORD, discern
That when thou didst these fearful things, in judgment thou cam'st down,
For thine advent is to show
And to make thy people know
That every man must stand confessed before thy awful throne.Come my people, enter in
Thy closed chambers and begin
To hide thee for a moment till the indignation cease,
For the LORD comes from his place
To destroy this evil race
And to trample them in fury and to take away all peace.Trust ye in the LORD forever,
Nor from our JEHOVAH sever,
For he will keep in perfect peach whose mind is stayed on thee.
That day shall this song be sung,
God's salvation shall be flung
As walls and bulwarks round them all whom truth has rendered free.There are other lords who claim
A dominion in thy name,
But thou shalt make their memory to perish from their birth.
Thy dead men shall live again,
Thy dead body glorious reign,
Awake and sing all ye that dwell within the dust of earth.See the thick clouds where he hides,
In dark waters he abides,
He makes the clouds his chariot and walks upon the wind,
For behold he comes in fire,
With the angels of his power,
The clouds, His saints, His body which is hidden from the blind.And he will be admired
In those who are attired
In His white robes of righteousness, which He will freely give.
For my righteousness is near,
My salvation it is here,
The clouds shall judge the people, The isles shall for thee live.
WHAT SHALL I DO?I will declare thy righteouness and thy works: For they shall not profit thee. Isa. 57-12.
What shall I do, what shall I give the LORD?
My beads, my prayers, my gifts, my penance dire;
My gold, my life, what more can I afford?
To works of righteousness my thoughts aspire.The saints I weary with repeated prayers;
The virgin goddess sure must know me well,
On bended knee I supplicate with tears,
Oh queen of heaven, keep my soul from hell.The god of wrath I face with trembling dread,
Who sees and frowns at each my slightest sin;
Although I eat him, turned by man from bread,
He dwells not in me, I must eat again.Oh tell me, is it true my righteousness,
My works, my penance, all are filthy rags;
With raiment hideous 'tis my soul I dress,
Which deeper, deeper my life downward drags?The unctuous priest, who absolution gives
Has he the power to save my soul from hell?
Can masses pave the way that I may live;
Or GOD'S salvation may we buy or sell?What peace have I, who never can be sure
That nothing more remains for me to do?
How can I, Oh how can I long endure
The thoughts of death, of death and anguish too.My creed denies that GOD, himself, has paid;
Has made me free, has made me white as snow;
Nor can I now believe that he has said:
It finished is, there's naught that man can do.O somber priest, O saints enshrined in stone,
O crucifix or cross inlaid with gold,
Heed ye my sigh as kneeling here I moan,
Where is my God? how may I find his fold?My works are naught, I know my prayers are sin,
I am not his unless he dwells in me (1)
And if within me; Yes, he says within;
Thou art not far, and I am near to thee.Then knowing this, contented I rely
On God alone, who gave himself for all
In confidence and peace I live or die;
God dwells in me, and I, on God may call.
By his own grace I live, I cannot fall.(1) Rom. viii-9; Eph. iv-6.
A EULOGY BY ROBERT BURNS TO JANE FERRIER(Great grandmother of present writer.) About the year 1801, Col. Graham was appointed to the Lieut. Governorship of Dunbarton Castle, a command reported vacant in consequence of the supposed death of Gen. Ferrier. The report proved incorrect and Gen. Ferrier expressed his indignation in the laconic message: "I, Islay Ferrier am not dead." The lieutenant Governorship of Stirling Castle being vacant at the time, it was given to Lieut. Col. Graham. In 1804 he was promoted to the rank of Brig. General, and placed on the staff. This was followed by his marriage to Jane, eldest daughter of James Ferrier and niece of Gen. Ferrier. Miss Ferrier was most popular as well as beautiful and clever: Her father was one of the principal clerks of the Court of Sessions, under Sir Walter Scott. Mrs. Graham was thus brought into the society of the most celebrated literary men of Scotland.
Her sister, Miss Susan Ferrier, was well known as the authoress of the novels: "Marriage," "Destiny" and "Inheritance," of which Sir Walter Scott wrote most flatteringly.
One of the friends of Jane Ferrier's early life was the beautiful and accomplished Lady Charlotte Campbell. Thomas Sheridan, poet and author; and Henry Erskine, Lord Advocate of Scotland, were amongst her warm admirers.
Robert Burns, who admired her greatly, wrote the following eulogy in her praise.
"Madam:The "Mournfu' Sang' to which he referred and a copy of which he enclosed referred to his Elegy on Sir J. H. Blain.No heathen name shall I prefix
Frae Pindus or Parnassus,
Auld Reikie dings them all to sticks
For rhyme inspiring lassies;
Jove's tuneful dochtors, three times three
Made Homer deep their debtor,
But gien the body half an e'e
Nine Ferriers had done better.Last day my mind was in a bog
Down George's street I started,
A creeping, cauld prosaic fog
My vera senses doited.
Do what I'd ought to set her free
My muse lay in the mire;
Ye turned a neuk, I saw your e'e
She took the wing like fire.
The mournfu' sang I here enclose,
In gratitude I send you,
And pray in rhyme sincere as prose
A' Gude Things may attend you.
(Signed) ROBERT BURNS.Miss Ferrier, a pronounced brunette, was nicknamed by her friends "Mrs. Crowe." The following is a copy of a note with which Lady Charlotte Campbell greeted her on her wedding day:
"For Mrs. Brigadier General Graham: This comes to felicitate J. C. Miss Ferrier,
Is it not strange that I should write for the last time to Jane Ferrier without sorrow? A thousand joys to Jane Graham. You have not time or power to read a long epistle. I merely trace these lines expressive of my best and kindest wishes that since I cannot in person be present at the ceremony my heart may wing its way to you. My husband, after his fashion manifests his sincere joy, and would have been very witty, if I had allowed him. God bless you, my dear friend, not less as a married than you ever were as a single woman; and in this pleasing belief, I remain, with pleasure, as with affection, Jane Graham, heartily affectionate;per ultima volta.The following original letter from the celebrated Thomas Sheridan, poet and author; preserved in Mrs. Graham's portfolio, is very characteristic, and may interest you as it has done me.C. M. CAMPBELL.Saturday; "Dear Sir:--
This Mrs. Crowe (Mrs. Graham), who like the merry Knights, is not only witty herself, but the cause of wit and genius in others; who has been admired and sought after by all the men of wit and genius of the age, must not leave Edinbro' without the homage of your talents being paid to her, and as there is no time for verse writing or composition (for she goes on Monday) you must come in person, and cut the best figure you can. (Extempore.)
She is here to see the lions and I am appointed showman.
Now, the word lion implies all that is agreeable, entertaining, or interesting. Is it strange, therefore, that in seeking for them, you should start into my mind, and that I shall consider my task unaccomplished if I have not the pleasure of showing you.Mrs. Crowe commissioned me (venturing on her intimacy with your brother as well as a slight acquaintance with yourself) to request your company to dinner to-morrow, Sunday, at Dumbucky, five o'clock; if you can't come to dinner, come in the evening, if not in the evening, come in the middle of the night, but do pray come.
Yours most truly, T. SHERIDAN To The Honourable H. Erskine"
Henry Erskine was Lord Advocate of Scotland, second son of the Tenth Earl Buchan. Gen. Graham died 26th Jan., 1831.