THE PASSING OF THE QUEEN In the vast expectant crowd, By the way she knew so well, Of our love unspeakable. To the rolling of the drums, And the slow sad tolling of the bell. Let every head be bowed, In the silent waiting crowd, As the Great Queen comes, To the slow sad ruffle of the drums! Who is this that comes, To the rolling of the drums, In the sorrowful great silence of the peoples? Take heart of grace, She is not here! The Great Queen is not here! What most in her we did revere, The lofty spirit, white and clear, The soul sincere, These come not here, To the rolling of the drums, In the silence and the sorrow of the peoples. Death has but little part In her. Love cannot die. So, though our heads are bent, As she comes,— As a conqueror she comes With the rolling of the drums, To the stateliest of her homes, In the hearts of her true and faithful peoples. For the Great Queen lives for ever In the hearts of those who love her. January, 1901. THE GOLDEN CORD Through every minute of this day, Through every day of all this week, Through every week of all this year, Through all the years of all this life, So shall the days and weeks and years And all draw on with sweet accord That so, when time is past, By Grace, I may at last, Be with Thee, Lord. THANK GOD FOR PEACE! Thank God for Peace! Up to the sombre sky Rolled one great thankful sigh, The long-low-hanging war-cloud rolled away, And night glowed brighter than the brightest day. For Peace is Light, And War is grimmer than the Night. Thank God for Peace! Great ocean, was your mighty calm unstirred As through your depths, unseen, unheard, Sped on its way the glorious word That called a weary nation to ungird, And sheathed once more the keen, reluctant sword? Thank God for Peace! The word came to us as we knelt in prayer Peace found us on our knees, and prayer for Was changed to prayer of deepest thankful ness. We knelt in War, we rose in Peace to bless Thy grace, Thy care, Thy tenderness. Thank God for Peace! No matter now the rights and wrongs of it; You fought us bravely, and we fought you fair. The fight is done. Grip hands! No malice bear! We greet you, brothers, to the nobler strife Of building up the newer, larger life! Join hands! Join hands! Ye nations of the stock! And make henceforth a mighty Trust for Peace. A great enduring peace that shall withstand The shocks of time and circumstance; and every land Shall rise and bless you-and shall never cease To bless you-for that glorious gift of Peace. GOD'S HANDWRITING He writes in characters too grand Of withered hopes, of death, of life, STEPHEN-SAUL Stephen, who died while I stood by consenting, Wrought in his death the making of a life, Bruised one hard heart to thought of swift repenting, Fitted one fighter for a nobler strife. Stephen, the Saint, triumphant and forgiving, Prayed while the hot blows beat him to the earth. Was that a dying? Rather was it living!— Through his soul's travail my soul came to birth. Stephen, the Martyr, full of faith and fearless, Smiled when his bruised lips could no longer pray, Smiled with a courage undismayed and peerless, Smiled!-and that smile is with me, night and day. O, was it I that stood there, all consenting? I-at whose feet the young men's clothes were laid? Was it my will that wrought that hot tormenting? My heart that boasted over Stephen, dead? |