Benjamin Copeland

“ God will surely know his own—
Pagan, Papist, Protestant.
NIAGARA.
Majestic symbol of eternal power!
Dread oracle of eons all unknown!
Before thy presence Pomp and Passion cower,—
All men are equal at thy awful throne.
Abashed, the eager babble of the mart,
To silence shamed, the vulgar greed for gain;
No more ambition goads the weary heart,
And Toil forgets its unrequited pain.
Stern type of Truth’s inexorable law!
No room remains for envy or for pride ”

“ Yes,—for thou dost own me thine;
Lo, ’tis written in my heart—
Mine, forever mine, thou art.
Unto thee be glory given
Evermore in earth and heaven;
Be thy name by all adored,
Holy, holy, holy Lord!
“FAINT, YET PURSUING.”
Breathe on us thy benediction,
Lord of glory, Prince of Peace!
Comfort us in our affliction,
Bid our fears and doubtings cease.
Shepherd of our souls and Saviour,
Who, alone, the wine press trod,
Well thou knowest the world’s behavior,
Man of sorrows, Lamb of God! ”

“ For her little heart close to my own
Keeps beating day by day.
WHERE THERE IS NO MORE PAIN.
The sharpest pang, the tenderest tear,
Not yet are known to thee,
Unless thy heart has learned how dear
A little grave can be. ”

“ With the pure in heart thy face may see,
And find with our loved and our lost a home
Where pain and sorrow can never come.
FORGOTTEN?
By ties as tender as our tears
Our hearts still hold to thee;—
Dear child! death cannot blight the years
Of immortality.
“IN THE BEGINNING, GOD.” “In Him we live, and move, and have our being.”
OUR FATHER.
ADORATION.
Sole Source of being, blessed God! ”

“ And, in holy place apart,
(Blessed are the pure in heart!)
In a halo of delight,
Jubilant with glorious might,
You shall walk with God in white.
. . . . . . . . . .
This is all was shown to me
Of the child’s futurity;
What the youth and man will be—
Sealed is in mystery.
Scarcely can his angel see,
Face to face with Deity,
Farther into certainty.
God exceed the prophecy!
God be better to the boy
Than the parent’s dream of joy.
LITTLE RUTH.
I cannot feel that she is gone
So far, so far away;
Her little heart close to my own
Is beating day by day. ”

“ Our loss, it grows not less;
Time’s balm is vain to heal the pain
Of such a loneliness.
O little grave, that darkened so
The path by Sorrow trod,
Sometimes the sunset’s golden glow
Rests on thy daisied sod;—
And then we feel that God is good,
And we take heart again,
Assured ’twill all be understood
Where there is no more pain.
Where there is no more pain—’tis there,
’Tis there we long to be ”

“ And sod and soul are blent
In blest enfranchisement,—
Prefiguring the end for all things made.
For life and love, supreme
Beyond Isaiah’s dream,
Shall bear all being to its blissful goal;
The wondrous word is true:
“Lo! I make all things new;”—
The universe is ransomed with the soul. ”

“ To sailor and lover alike thou art dear;
Forever and ever thy kingdom shall be:—
The heart owns thy sway like the tides of the sea.
HEART’S-EASE.
The day will not give place to night,—
The darkness pierces like the light ”

“ The world his sovereignty shall own.
O Son of Mary! hear
A helpless sinner’s prayer,
And, on that awful day,
Make me thy gracious care;
O, be my heart’s sure hope and stay
When the wide heavens shall flee away.
Keep faithful watch, my soul,
And pray “Thy kingdom come;” ”

“ The blight has fallen on thy peerless bloom;
To bless thy bridal eager ages toiled;—
A moment’s glamour leaves thee endless gloom.
MIDNIGHT AND MORNING.
Under her heart her sorrow,
Under her heart her shame,—
And darker than death the morrow
With the brand of the whole world’s blame.
. . . . . . . . . .
Under her heart her glory,—
O rapture that knows no alloy!
Blest Mary! thy travail’s sweet story
Shall waken the whole world’s joy.
OTHER SHEEP.
Pagan, Papist, Protestant! ”