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To the Savior

From Ailenroc’s Book, by Cornelia Alexander

Note from the blogger: I set this poem to music several years ago, but am still fiddling with the harmony. I’ll probably share it here on Ziphen Central once it’s done.

When earth smiles in gladness, in fullness, and beauty,
And hope steers our vessels across the blue sea,
We are prone to forget that we owe our first duty
To thee, our Savior, to thee.

When friends are around us, our hearts throb with pleasure;
We make the air vocal with laughter and glee,
Forgetting above we should lay up our treasure
With thee, our Savior, with thee.

But—O!—when clouds rise and loud rolls the deep thunder,
And our vessels are shattered on treacherous sea,
Then we turn, with our sad hearts all riven asunder,
To thee, our Savior, to thee,

Because thy dear face has been oft wet with weeping;
Because thou hast said, “Come, ye weary, to me;”
Because we are watched, whether walking or sleeping,
By thee, our Savior, by thee.

Thou knowest our trials, our every affliction;
Thine ear can be reached by the lowliest plea,
And our sad hearts are soothed by a sweet benediction
From thee, our Savior, from thee.

Evening Song

Faintly the voices are flying to me;
Fragments and snatches fall here and fall there.
Shall I draw nearer, or will the song flee?

Pines of the forest are dark, yet I see
The light of a fire, all blazing and fair—
Faintly the voices are flying to me.

Strange is the melody, wild, and free,
Chanting of happiness, love, and despair.
Shall I draw nearer, or will the song flee?

Softly I steal through the dim-lighted lea,
Earnestly seeking that uncanny air.
Faintly the voices are flying to me.

Almost I catch it; again it breaks free.
What is this song, so familiar, so rare?
Shall I draw nearer, or will the song flee?

Finally I break through, the brightness I see!
Then blackness, and silence, and nothing is there.
Faintly the voices are flying to me:
Shall I draw nearer, or will the song flee?

Bedtime Hour

From Ailenroc’s Book, by Cornelia Alexander

‘Tis the children’s bedtime hour;
They are murmuring sleepy prayers,
While my thoughts go straying backward
Down the path of the vanished years;
And, evolved from their misty shadows,
One face and form I see:
A dear little boy, with serious look,
Saying his prayers at my knee.

With brown hands closely folded
And dark head bended low,
I hear again the murmur
That the childish lips o’erflow.
“Lead me not into any temptation,
From all evil deliver me,”
Was the nightly prayer of the little boy
Who said his prayers at my knee.

Ah me! with an aching heart beat,
I think how the years have flown
Since that time, and my firstborn
From his mother’s home is gone;
And to-night I pray: “‘Our Father,’
Wherever he may be,
Make him again the good little boy
Who said his prayers at my knee.”

Is It I?

From Ailenroc’s Book, by Cornelia Alexander

Once I knew a joyous maiden,
Happy as a summer bird,
Laughing, singing ‘mong the flowers;
Her young heart with pleasure stirred.
O the happy days of childhood!
How they flit like phantoms by!
While I retrospect those hours,
Wondering vaguely: Was it I?

How I marveled then at faces
Growing graver with the years,
And at eyes that lost their brightness,
Quenched their light in bitter tears!
Now I marvel at the gladness
Of the days so long gone by,
While I sit a silent weeper,
Wondering: Can this be I?

Happy hours—they have fled forever;
Happy heart has left my breast;
Childhood’s days have fled like shadows,
Womanhood hath brought no rest.
All alone in wintry darkness
Sit I as the days go by,
Thinking of my happy girlhood,
Wondering: Can this be I?

Hymn of the Week – How Sweet, How Heavenly

Poetry by Joseph Swain, 1792
Music by William Bradbury, 1844
Sound recording

How sweet, how heavenly is the sight,
When those that love the Lord
In one another’s peace delight,
And so fulfill His Word.

When each can feel his brother’s sigh,
And with him bear a part;
When sorrow flows from eye to eye,
And joy from heart to heart.

When, free from envy, scorn, and pride,
Our wishes all above,
Each can his brother’s failings hide,
And show a brother’s love.

When love, in one delightful stream,
Through every bosom flows,
When union sweet, and dear esteem,
In every action glows.

Love is the golden chain that binds
The happy souls above;
And he’s an heir of Heaven who finds
His bosom glow with love.