Part 11 (2/2)

And what did _I_ get? You confuse me-- _I got not one thing_, and that's true; But had I suspected my actions detected I would have had gifts, wouldn't you?

JENNY LIND

There was a something in your song, men say No later singer voices: some strange power Like to the essence in a rare June day, Or like the subtle perfume of a flower.

Awed and inspired, your listeners turned away, Baptized in your sweet music's holy shower.

For through that music shone the glorious dower Of your great soul: here all the secret lay.

Not for the honours of this earth you sang-- Not for its gold or glory, not for art, Not for the fortunes at your fair feet hurled.

The love of G.o.d through all your measures rang, And each pure note bespoke a n.o.ble heart.

When worth weds genius, lo! they rule the world.

LIFE'S KEY

The hand that fas.h.i.+oned me, tuned my ear To chord with the major key, In the darkest moments of life I hear Strains of courage, and hope, and cheer From choirs that I cannot see.

And the music of life seems so inspired That it will not let me grow sad or tired.

Yet through and under the major strain, I hear with the pa.s.sing of years, The mournful minor measure of pain, Of souls that struggle and toil in vain For a goal that never nears.

And the sorrowful cadence of good gone wrong, Breaks more and more into earth's glad song.

And oft in the dark of the night I wake And think of sorrowing lives, And I long to comfort the hearts that ache, To sweeten the cup that is bitter to take, And to strengthen each soul that strives.

I long to cry to them 'Do not fear, Help is coming and aid is near.'

However desolate, weird, or strange Life's melody sounds to you, Before to-morrow the air may change, And the Great Director of music arrange A programme perfectly new.

And the dirge in minor may suddenly be Turned into a jubilant song of glee.

BRIDGE OF PRAYER

The bridge of prayer from heavenly heights suspended Unites the earth with spirit-realms in s.p.a.ce.

The interests of those separate worlds are blended For those whose feet turn often toward that place.

In troubled nights of sorrow and repining, When joy and hope seem sunk in dark despair, We still may see above the shadows s.h.i.+ning, The gleaming archway of the bridge of prayer.

From that fair height, our souls may lean and listen To sounds of music from the farther sh.o.r.e, And through the vapours, sometimes dear eyes glisten Of loved ones who have hastened on before.

And angels come from their Celestial City-- And meet us half way on the bridge of prayer.

G.o.d sends them forth, full of divinest pity To strengthen us for burdens we must bear.

Oh! you whose feet walk in some shadowed by-way, Far from the scenes of pleasure and delight, Still free to you hangs this suspended highway, Where heavenly glories dawn upon the sight.

<script>