Not to send peace but send a sword He came, And fire and fasts and tearful night-watches.

THE DESCENT FROM THE CROSS.

Is this the Face that thrills with awe Seraphs who veil their face above?

Is this the Face without a flaw, The Face that is the Face of Love?

Yea, this defaced, a lifeless clod, Hath all creation's love sufficed, Hath satisfied the love of G.o.d, This Face the Face of Jesus Christ.

"IT IS FINISHED."

Dear Lord, let me recount to Thee Some of the great things thou hast done For me, even me Thy little one.

It was not I that cared for Thee,-- But Thou didst set Thy heart upon Me, even me Thy little one.

And therefore was it sweet to Thee To leave Thy Majesty and Throne, And grow like me A Little One,

A swaddled Baby on the knee Of a dear Mother of Thine own, Quite weak like me Thy little one.

Thou didst a.s.sume my misery, And reap the harvest I had sown, Comforting me Thy little one.

Jerusalem and Galilee,-- Thy love embraced not those alone, But also me Thy little one.

Thy unblemished Body on the Tree Was bared and broken to atone For me, for me Thy little one.

Thou lovedst me upon the Tree,-- Still me, hid by the ponderous stone,-- Me always,--me Thy little one.

And love of me arose with Thee When death and h.e.l.l lay overthrown: Thou lovedst me Thy little one.

And love of me went up with Thee To sit upon Thy Father's Throne: Thou lovest me Thy little one.

Lord, as Thou me, so would I Thee Love in pure love's communion, For Thou lov'st me Thy little one:

Which love of me brings back with Thee To Judgment when the Trump is blown, Still loving me Thy little one.

AN EASTER CAROL.

Spring bursts to-day, For Christ is risen and all the earth's at play.

Flash forth, thou Sun, The rain is over and gone, its work is done.

Winter is past, Sweet Spring is come at last, is come at last.

Bud, Fig and Vine, Bud, Olive, fat with fruit and oil and wine.

Break forth this morn In roses, thou but yesterday a Thorn.

Uplift thy head, O pure white Lily through the Winter dead.

Beside your dams Leap and rejoice, you merry-making Lambs.

All Herds and Flocks Rejoice, all Beasts of thickets and of rocks.

Sing, Creatures, sing, Angels and Men and Birds and everything.

All notes of Doves Fill all our world: this is the time of loves.

"BEHOLD A SHAKING."

1.

Man rising to the doom that shall not err,-- Which hath most dread: the arouse of all or each; All kindreds of all nations of all speech, Or one by one of _him_ and _him_ and _her_?

While dust reanimate begins to stir Here, there, beyond, beyond, reach beyond reach; While every wave refashions on the beach Alive or dead-in-life some seafarer.

Now meeting doth not join or parting part; True meeting and true parting wait till then, When whoso meet are joined for evermore, Face answering face and heart at rest in heart:-- G.o.d bring us all rejoicing to the sh.o.r.e Of happy Heaven, His sheep home to the pen.

2.

Blessed that flock safe penned in Paradise; Blessed this flock which tramps in weary ways; All form one flock, G.o.d's flock; all yield Him praise By joy or pain, still tending toward the prize.

Joy speaks in praises there, and sings and flies Where no night is, exulting all its days; Here, pain finds solace, for, behold, it prays; In both love lives the life that never dies.

Here life is the beginning of our death, And death the starting-point whence life ensues; Surely our life is death, our death is life: Nor need we lay to heart our peace or strife, But calm in faith and patience breathe the breath G.o.d gave, to take again when He shall choose.

ALL SAINTS.

They are flocking from the East And the West, They are flocking from the North And the South, Every moment setting forth From realm of snake or lion, Swamp or sand, Ice or burning; Greatest and least, Palm in hand And praise in mouth, They are flocking up the path To their rest, Up the path that hath No returning.

Up the steeps of Zion They are mounting, Coming, coming, Throngs beyond man's counting; With a sound Like innumerable bees Swarming, humming Where flowering trees Many-tinted, Many-scented, All alike abound With honey,-- With a swell Like a blast upswaying unrestrainable From a shadowed dell To the hill-tops sunny,-- With a thunder Like the ocean when in strength Breadth and length It sets to sh.o.r.e; More and more Waves on waves redoubled pour Leaping flashing to the sh.o.r.e (Unlike the under Drain of ebb that loseth ground For all its roar.)

They are thronging From the East and West, From the North and South, Saints are thronging, loving, longing, To their land Of rest, Palm in hand And praise in mouth.

"TAKE CARE OF HIM."

"Thou whom I love, for whom I died, Lovest thou Me, My bride?"-- Low on my knees I love Thee, Lord, Believed in and adored.