A New Leaf
Here’s the volume: stain nor blot
Mars a leaf to-day;
Sin and folly, they are not;
Sorrow is away.
Look! Each page is white and clear,
And’t is morning of the year.
Of the days that swiftly run
This will not be mute:
Good or evil said or done,
Sweet or bitter fruit,
What shall be the record, dear,
At the evening of the year?
Night Watch, The
I
At Bethlehem
Shepherds, what of the night?
‘Dark, dark and cold;
Snow upon field and fold,
Wind that is fierce and wild!
But over the wastes of white,
Far in the Eest, and far,
Rises a strange new Star;
Its lusters rest and shine
On the roof of the stabled Kine,
Where, or a dream beguiled,
Was the cry of a new-born child.’
II
After Calvary
Watchers, what of the night?
‘Well! well! all’s well!
Behold God’s miracle
Of Life and Light!
Lo, He the Crucified,
He, for our sins who died,
Jesus, the Holy Slain,
Lives, lives again!
In the dawn’s first glow that gleamed
We have seen Him and adored,
Our Savior, King and Lord!
He has broken the tomb’s dread prison-
Christ is risen! Christ is risen! -
And the World is redeemed-redeemed! ’
III
After Nineteen Centuries
Brothers, what of the night?
‘Ah! who can say?
We seek, we watch, we pray,
But where is the light?
Still here the sin and shame-
The poor and weak down-trod;
The wrongs that have no name,
The good by evil slain!
The blood-soaked battle-sod,
The cries of “Kill! ” and “Slay! ”-
The pain, the tears, the cries. . .
O thou White Son of God,
Was all the lesson vain-
In vain the Sacrifice? ’
Crucifixion, Still, The
Still, still upon the cross!
Yet is it writ that Thou,
With thorn-pierc’d brow,
Amid the jeer of mocking lips, the toss
Of mocking heads, a thief on either side,
Wert crucified;
Nailed to the awful tree-
Thy Throne of agony-
Thou, Son of God! Thy blood, thy life didst give
That we might live.
Nay, Lord, can this be so
And earth not know?
Thy star, whose fields Thy feet divine once trod
Fresh from the fields of God;
Thy natal star, whose skies
Have quickened to Thine eyes,
While thrilled through boundless space
The worlds to greet Thy face
From this, dear Lord- one of the least thereof,
Great only in Thy love.
In Thy love, only, great!
O Christ compassionate,
Pity us, deaf and blind,
Frail humankind!
Pity us, loving still-
Though all in vain
Seemeth Thy price is pain;
Pity us, loving still-
Though still with sin, and shame, and strife, and hate,
We thwart Thy will.
Still, still upon the cross!
For lo! our every evil is a thorn
Wherewith our hands adorn
Thy bleeding brow; each brother-help denied
A spear-thrust in Thy side,
Daily betray we Thee for gold dross:
Through the long centuries
Unheeding, and still heeding not Thy cries,
So hold we Thee, O Savour, crucified-
Still, still on the cross.
