The long, weird fingers of the old white-pines Do beckon thee into the flickering wood, Where moving spots of light show mystic flowers, And wavering music fills the dreamy hours. Hast thou no _time_ for all this wondrous show,-- No thought to spare? Wilt thou forever be With thy last year's dry flower-stalk and dead leaves, And no new shoot or blossom on thy tree? See how the pines push off their last year's leaves, And stretch beyond them with exultant bound: The grass and flowers, with living power, o'ergrow Their last year's remnants on the greening ground. Wilt thou, then, all thy wintry feelings keep, The old dead routine of thy book-writ lore, Nor deem that God can teach, by one bright hour, What life hath never taught to thee before? See what vast leisure, what unbounded rest, Lie in the bending dome of the blue sky: Ah! breathe that life-born languor from thy breast, And know once more a child's unreasoning joy. Cease, cease to _think_, and be content _to be_; Swing safe at anchor in fair Nature's bay; Reason no more, but o'er thy quiet soul Let God's sweet teachings ripple their soft way. Soar with the birds, and flutter with the leaf; Dance with the seeded grass in fringy play; Sail with the cloud, wave with the dreaming pine, And float with Nature all the livelong day. Call not such hours an idle waste of time,-- Land that lies fallow gains a quiet power; It treasures, from the brooding of God's wings, Strength to unfold the future tree and flower. And when the summer's glorious show is past, Its miracles no longer charm thy sight, The treasured riches of those thoughtful hours Shall make thy wintry musings warm and bright. THE SHEPHERD'S CAROL "O Shepherd of Israel, Thy lost flock are straying; Our Helper, our Saviour, How long thy delaying! Where, Lord, is thy promise To David of old, Of the King and the Shepherd To gather the fold! "Cold, cold is the night wind, Our hearts have no cheer, Our Lord and our Leader, When wilt thou appear?" So sang the sad shepherds On Bethlehem's cold ground When lo, the bright angels In glory around! "Peace, peace, ye dear shepherds, And be of good cheer; The Lord whom ye long for Is coming--is here! In the city of David Behold him appear-- A babe in a manger-- Go worship him there." They went and were blessèd. Dear soul, go thou too; The Saviour for them Is the Saviour for you. Oh, kneel by the manger, Oh, kneel by the cross; Accept him, believe him,-- All else is but dross. HOURS OF THE NIGHT OR WATCHES OF SORROW I MIDNIGHT "He hath made me to dwell in darkness as those that have been long dead."