Ah! Safely He has hidden it, From earth-gaze forbidden it: Humbled and weary the bold Thought, returning, Nestles down closer to God’s written word; By grief’s parching thirst its sweet fountains are stirred; Its pages yield balm that will soothe the heart’s yearning. There, Heaven comes near to us,— Those who were dear to us, Safe in its mansions—we’ll question not where,— Live in the light of an Infinite Love! Faith sweetly whispers—“They beckon above,— The loved ones, who’ve left us, are waiting us there.” The hidden earth-histories— The sought-after mysteries Are veiled, but in blessing;—we seek for them ever; Wisdom hath woven this mystical bond, Binding the soul to God’s greater Beyond, Enlarging, enriching, thro’ constant endeavor. In Childhood’s Years. In childhood’s years, what dreamy days In spring’s soft airs or autumn’s haze! How golden bright the sunset skies Where just beyond our heaven lies! Each dawn the sun has merry plays With Rosy-mist, who veils his rays To shield us from his glory blaze, While she paints morn such lovely dyes In Childhood’s years. We tread but joy-lit, sunny ways, Nor dream of dread, that is decay’s:— No sorrow comes but quickly flies— No love is known that cools and dies— No crafty selfishness betrays In childhood’s years. In the City of Suffering.[1] In the city of suffering souls grow large, And money-greed languishing lies; ’Neath the hurrying feet, of God’s messengers there, That pompous, old Selfishness dies: Ambition, so eagerly climbing to heights Where glory, alone, is the prize, Forgets his wild dreams at the shriek of distress And goes where Humanity cries. In the city of suffering, sympathies blend As valley rills, blend in a stream; The high, and the low, all forgetful of rank, Are thrilled by calamity’s scream. There Wealth’s jeweled hand and the toil-hardened palm, Have neither a preference in claim, But agony ardently stretching them forth, Makes common appeal, in His name. In the city of suffering hearts grow warm— Aye, flame in the darkness of woe; The spark God gave, from His infinite love, Neath the hot breath of pain is aglow. There, swift to the rescue, goes valorous strength, Surprising the world with his deeds— There, Courage will struggle with death for a life, While yielding his own up, if needs. In the city of Suffering, Avarice hides In the gloomy old vault with his gold, Nor dares to meet Charity’s love-lighted face, His own is so pitiless and cold; There, cowardice, envy—all drosses of soul In the crucial test are consumed— Dark altars, once glowing with brotherly love, In the shadow of sorrow, relumed.