There is a beauty upon womans face
When smiles in sunny rapture domineers
There is on beautys cheek a winning grace
When clouded with the eloquence of tears
Sweet gem of artless loves sincerity
Womans bright eye is thy enthroning place
To mourn & sigh is every harlots forgery
But womans tears like dew down roses stealing
Are the souls essence—its most deepest feeling
That words cant utter may be read in thee
Clear looking glass of the unfolded heart
Its undissembled purity to prove
For when with thee cares sorrows have no part

1. Great Lord of all, whose work of love Creation's
2. Stern death pronounced the dread decree, Entailed on
boundless realms display, Help us to join the
all of woman born, From sorrow set our
choirs above, And hail thy providential sway.
parents free, But left us helpless and forlorn.

3. Dark was the color of our fate
Till thy benignant mercy shown,
Redeemed us from our wretched state,
And made the fatherless thine own.

4. Our hopes revive, our fears are fled,
Our joyless days and nights are o'er.

For this is Wisdom; to love, to live,
To take what Fate, or the Gods, may give,
To ask no question, to make no prayer,
To kiss the lips and caress the hair,
Speed passion's ebb as you greet its flow,--
To have,--to hold,--and,--in time,--let go!

High on the peak
of cloud-capped
Mount Fuji
the smoke is rising—
and no more
easy to hide
is the burning

Not what I am, O Lord, but what thou art!
That, that alone can be my soul's true rest;
Thy love, not mine, bids fear and doubt depart,
And stills the tempest of my tossing breast.

It is thy perfect love that casts out fear;
I know the voice that speaks the “It is I;”
And in these well-known words of heavenly cheer,
I hear the joy that bids each sorrow fly.

Thy name is Love! I hear it from yon cross;
Thy name is Love! I read it in yon tomb;
All meaner love is perishable dross,
But this shall light me thro' time's thickest gloom.

Smoothing soft the nestling head
Of a maiden fancy-led,
Thus a grave-eyed woman said:

“Richest gifts are those we make,
Dearer than the love we take
That we give for love's own sake.

“Well I know the heart's unrest;
Mine has been the common quest,
To be loved and therefore blest.

“Favors undeserved were mine;
At my feet as on a shrine
Love has laid its gifts divine.

“Sweet the offerings seemed, and yet
With their sweetness came regret,
And a sense of unpaid debt.

“Heart of mine unsatisfied,

Afloat!—
Ah Love, on the mirror of waters
All the world seems with us afloat,—
All the wide, bright world of the night;
But the mad world of men is remote,
And the prating of tongues is afar.
We have fled from the crowd in our flight,
And beyond the gray rim of the waters
All the turmoil has sunk from our sight.
Turn your head, Love, a little, and note
Low down in the south a pale star.
The mists of the horizon-line drench it,
The beams of the moon all but quench it,
Yet it shines thro' this flood-tide of light.

—I WAS a wandering sheep,
—I did not love the fold;
I did not love my Shepherd's voice,
—I would not be controlled.
—I was a wayward child,
—I did not love my home,
I did not love my Father's voice,
—I loved afar to roam.

—The Shepherd sought his sheep;
—The Father sought his child;
They followed me o'er vale and hill,
—O'er deserts waste and wild.
—They found me night to death,
—Famished, and faint, and lone;
They bound me with the bands of love;
—They saved the wandering one.

—They spoke in tender love,

Come, he said, I love you; I do not know why I love but I love;
Something from you to me, something I feel but do not see,
Prevails on my older self, lifting me clear of the earth,
Not severing the dead from the living,
But making the dead and the living one.

Shall I tell you, O my brother?—shall I offer what today you could not take?
No—no: for the hour, for the day, past this sundown—only silence and love:
Only the hand that reaches, only the hand that takes.

But tomorrow: O the morrow!

Hark! the gentle voice of Jesus falleth
Tenderly upon your ear;
Sweet his cry of love and pity calleth:
Turn and listen, stay and hear.
Take his yoke; for he is meek and lowly:
Bear his burden: of him learn
He who calleth is the Master holy:
He will teach if you will learn.
Then, his loving, tender voice obeying,
Bear his yoke: his burden take.
Find the yoke, his hand is on you laying,
Light and easy for his sake.

Ye that labor and are heavy laden,
Lean upon your dear Lord's breast.
Ye that labor and are heavy laden,