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Rest In Thee
Poet: Ellwood Haines Stokes
See the Cross! Before it bending,
Joys of pardon sweetly roll;
Blessed Cross, whose peace unending.
Flows in silence through the soul.
Love divine; O holy Saviour,
Never more like Thine will be.
More than Oceans wide Thy favor,
O what bliss to rest in Thee!
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Beautiful Light
Poet: Ellwood Haines Stokes
There's a beautiful light in the evening sky,
As the sun goes down in the golden west;
There's a holy calm in the Christian's eye.
As his labors close and he sinks to rest.
There's a land unseen by our mortal sight
Where the smiles of the Lord forever stay.
And the good go up to that land of light,
As the stars fade out in the light of day. -
What A Joyful Place!
Poet: Ellwood Haines Stokes
What a joyful place our heaven must be.
Where the captive dwells forever free.
Where the weary rest, and the good reside,
And the lonely poor have their wants supplied.
The pilgrim rests from his journey long,
And the heart oppress'd breaks forth in song.
Where the aching head finds a place of rest,
And the sons of grief are forever blest.
A joyful place where our Saviour dwells.
And redemption's sweet song forever swells,
Where the heart's high praise, and the crowns are given,
To the Saviour of men, even such is heaven.
Even such is heaven! How the soul shall swell,
As it flees from earth with its God to dwell.
The warfare is past, and all is forgiven.
And it rests in the bliss of its own sweet heaven.
"What a joyful place," the old man said.
As he closed the Book he had fondly read,
His soul was full, and the tears fell fast;
For he felt he should reach that home at last.
"What a joyful place," so the martyr cried,
Then firmly walked to the stake and died;
While his soul broke forth from its burning clay.
And fled on the wings of its hope away.
"A joyful place," cried the mother low.
As her eyes grew dim and her pulse beat slow,
And she kiss'd her child with a warm sweet kiss,
Then passed with a smile to the land of bliss.
"A joyful place," so the maiden cried.
As she closed her eyes on the world and died.
And her soul broke forth in a sweet farewell,
As we watched her flight with the good to dwell.
"A joyful place," said the child of woe.
And he smiled at his grief, and cried, I go;
As the bright stars fade with the light of day
His spirit was kissed from the earth away.
A joyful place, — while the infant lay.
In its mother's arms on its dying day,
A smile was wove with each tender grace
And the angel whisper was, "joyful place."
A joyful place, where our friends reside.
Our lov'd and lost ones, who in Jesus died;
O blest emotions! O what grand employ!
Is their's forever in that land of joy.
A joyful place is the spirit land.
There the sinless host is a loving band;
They are all redeemed, they are all forgiv'n,
And the smile of God is the joy of heaven. -
Full Blossomed
Poet: Ellwood Haines Stokes
I was a child, and childhood's richest treasures,
A father's care and mother's kiss, were mine;
And each young hope a bud of opening pleasures,
My soul the trellis, love the blooming vine.
Soft songs sung low lulled me to peaceful slumbers,
Like rippling rills in moonlit summer dell;
The mellow lute, the quiet flow of numbers.
In dreamy bliss upon my spirit fell.
My youthful paths, though full of youthful duty,
Were soft with mosses to my tender feet;
The earth and sky unfolded views of beauty,
And every day with dewy love was sweet.
I drank the waters of the purest fountains.
Waters which flashed with brightness in the sun;
My fancy saw in clouds the castled mountains,
The real and ideal melting into one.
Hope arched my sky with hues of cloudless splendor,
Love lured my feet in thornless paths of green;
The heart responded to each accent tender,
And love was life, and life was love supreme.
I sat in raptured rest, vines bending o'er me.
No withered leaf, no blasted bud was there;
Life's widening pathways gleamed in light before me,
Earth bright with bloom with fragrance filled the air.
Then came the man! That was a change forever!
Was gladness gone, as when a flower dies?
No! Youth the fountain, age the broadened river,
And fuller joys of life's young prophecies!
The first faint gleamings of the dewy morning,
Blush with new brightness with each rising ray;
Faint gleams of thought the brow of youth adorning,
Widened with glory, crown the close of day.
Hopes grow not less as days of hope diminish,
The shadows vanish in the noonday light;
The sculptor's joy is the artistic finish,
When marble yields, and angels greet the sight.
Yes! yes! I see, each added day grows brighter.
My broadened life the full blown bud of youth;
With added strength, each added weight grows lighter.
And all are carried in the strength of truth.
The morning past! The noon! Remains the gladness!
The evening tide is full of pure delight!
The song birds of the soul have sung out sadness.
They carol in the day that knows no night.
A child! I thought and spake in childish measure;
A man! these things forever put away;
This grander life, a great and grander pleasure.
Shall bask full blossomed in eternal day.
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Where Shall We Go?
Poet: Ellwood Haines Stokes
Where shall we go? asked modest maiden beauty,
Where shall we go, to spend our summer days?
Where find relief from life's dull round of duty?
Where shall we sing our blissful summer lays?
Where shall we go? One answered, to the mountains,
The great grand mountains, green in noonday light,
Where the glad waters leap from living fountains,
And glassy lakes reflect the stars of night.
Where shall we go? There is a vale of splendor.
Where flowers bloom, and fragrance fills the air;
Where sighing brooks and songs of birds are tender,
The bliss you seek, another said, is there!
Where shall we go? Seek pleasure by the ocean,
Where laughing billows break in silvery spray;
Muse by the sea, her musical commotion.
Will sing such songs as make your summer gay.
So each had words born of their own opinion.
Each thought the mountain, vale, or seaside best;
And all confused, the mind had no dominion.
For varying views had failed to give it rest.
Another spake — one who enjoyed all places;
He said, "Seek Jesus; find His love complete;
Then when your heart His heart of love embraces.
Mountains and vales and oceans will be sweet."
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June
Poet: Ellwood Haines Stokes
Through the cold rain,
And winds that wailed or murmured sad and low,
With bursting throbs of resurrection pain.
The earth threw off its winding sheet of snow.
The frosted air
Chided the myrtle's first attempt to rise,
And dim old forests tossed their branches bare,
Wildly and weird against the leaden skies.
The April sun,
Pitied and kissed the cold and cheerless sod.
And jeweled dew drops when the day was done,
Came forth the silent ministers of God.
I slept, I woke!
O'er the bright hills tripped merry-footed May;
My spirit leaped as when a vision broke,
And beauty trailed her garments o'er the way.
And now, once more,
Each leafy bough trills with a summer tune,
While at love's fragrant feet fond hearts adore,
And drink the glad'ning glee of joyous June.
The skies are blue.
And overarch a world of budding bliss,
The waters flash with golden splendors new.
And emerald banks receive their tender kiss.
There is no gloom!
Meadows and hillsides are a glowing page.
Each hoary rock is crowned with living bloom.
Like smiles that wreath the furrowed face of age.
So struggling up,
Through the cold crustings of our earthliness.
Tender, yet true, appear the blades of hope.
Which soon unfold to June's deliciousness.
Then, through the years.
And all the rough realities of time.
Through bending sorrows and the blinding tears,
Blossoms are woven, fadeless and sublime.
So, o'er and o'er,
The soul is soothed with every summer tune.
While at love's fragrant feet fond hearts adore,
And drink the joy of God's eternal June.
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My Birth-Day
Poet: Ellwood Haines Stokes
The flowery-footed Spring has gone,
With merry steps and free;
The Summer came with golden flush,
And passed as rapidly.
With pensive pleasure Autumn comes,
Calm heart and brow serene;
The sky is bright with burnished light,
Below, the earth is green.
The trees stand hushed and motionless.
Through with their Summer care;
And frost, with colors many-hued,
Paints landscapes rich and rare.
The kine are dozing on the hills.
The brooks go murmuring by,
The cricket sings his quiet song,
The leaves fall silently.
There's quiet in the earth beneath,
There's quiet in the air;
And Nature, through with over- work.
Is resting everywhere.
I'm resting too: sweet Autumn rest.
Through with the toil and strife;
I'm sweetly resting on the slopes -
The sunny slopes of life.
I've had my Spring and Summer time,
I'm in the Autumn now:
And time has woven silver threads
In silence on my brow.
I'm glad, for though the Spring was bright,
And Summer glories fill
Our cup of joy up to the brim,
Yet Autumn's sweeter still.
A holy quiet everywhere.
Through nature seems to roll.
But that which is to me supreme,
Is quiet in the soul.
In Spring, I thought the Spring was best;
But Summer came to me
All laden with its golden flush.
And fruits abundantly.
And then I said. Can aught excel
This ripening Summer time -
This high-day on the mountain top.
With visions all sublime?
But, when the hazy Autumn came -
Sweet Autumn, full of rest,
I said to Him who loves me most.
Dear Jesus, this is best.
Yes, this is best for many things,
So full of good is earth;
Yet this is best of all to me.
This season gave me birth.
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The Christ-Child Of The Heart
Poet: Ellwood Haines Stokes
Our Lord was born in Bethlehem,
So many years ago;
But is He born within my heart,
Is what I wish to know?
The wise men came with gifts of gold.
And worshiped at His feet;
But have I brought my heart to Him,
An offering complete?
He occupied a lowly place -
The manger and the stall -
But well deserves within my breast
The highest seat of all.
The angels sung a holy song
When Jesus Christ was born;
And I can sing so joyously
This blessed Christmas morn
Not over Judean hills, alone,
So many years ago.
Did Jesus come into the world,
He comes to me, I know!
I've brought the fine gold of my heart,
I've brought frankincense, too;
And He so cheerfully accepts
This little that I do!
My heart is but a lowly place,
Yet better than the stall;
I'll garland it with evergreens,
And He shall have it all!
Flashes the guiding star of hope.
The promises are true;
For I have found the new-born King,
And you may find Him, too!
The world presents its Christ to-day,
In poetry and art;
Be ours the simpler faith to know
The Christ-child of the heart.
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Easter
Poet: Ellwood Haines Stokes
The lenten days are past! All past
The lenten days of gloom;
The shades of night are flying fast,
The light spreads o'er creation vast,
Lo! Easter morning breaks at last, -
Bring flowers to deck the tomb.
Bring flowers, bright flowers, in their freshness sweet.
And lay them with joy at our dear Lord's feet.
Yes! garland the Cross with flowers,
The rough and rugged Cross;
Christ has met death's deadliest powers.
Has struggled through the lone, dark hours,
Till life immortal, victor towers.
High over every loss;
While living blossoms spring in death's dark way,
And blushing hope blooms into endless day.
The sepulchre is void! All bright,
The joyful angels sit.
Hailing the weepers with delight,
Assuring them that death's dark night,
Is lost in everlasting light,
While heaven's own way is lit,
With His grand life, who mightier than the grave,
Henceforth is known, Omnipotent to save.
Then bring the sweetest flowers, bring flowers,
Jesus has conquered sin;
Bring blossoms from your sweet home bowers,
From morning's fresh and dewy hours,
Or from the vine-girt, twilight towers,
For Jesus, bring them in;
O twine the Cross, for lo, the dark, cold tomb,
Henceforth is fragrant with immortal bloom.
And now, O heart, look up, for thee
There's hope in deepest gloom.
Though thine is sad Gethsemane,
Though thine the Cross and Calvary,
The heart throes and the agony.
The death day and the tomb ;
Soon God's third mom shall break, the light shall roll -
To usher in the Easter of the souL
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Go Forward
Poet: Ellwood Haines Stokes
Go forward; God assures thee
That heaven shall be thy prize;
But, ah! how dark before thee
Death's gloomy waters rise.
Go forward, sweetly guided,
For God has so provided,
Death's stream shall be divided,
Go forward to the skies!
Go forward; God allures thee
To deeper depths away;
Go forward; on before thee
Glory unfolds its day.
Angels their wings are shaking,
Millions their songs are waking,
Billows of glory breaking.
In God-light melt away.
Forward; on mounts of glory
Immortal angel bands
Beckon, and shout the story,
Forward, through endless lands;
To glory still ascending,
Glory with glory blending,
Glory unknown, unending.
Go forward, blood-washed bands!
Go forward; for unto thee,
Lo, other mountains rise;
And further bands of angels
Are opening further skies.
Go forward; on forever!
For end there is none - never!
Ever, and yet forever,
The soul wing God-ward flies! -
On The Beach
Poet: Ellwood Haines Stokes
I sit upon the white sands of the sea;
The solemn waves sigh softly at my feet;
A great, tall ship, with sails all set, complete.
O'er the blue deep moves on in majesty.
The little children gather shells in glee;
Two lovers, lost in admiration, gaze.
And lisp, and dream, and picture coming days
When life shall be as sweet as sweet can be.
A little on, the sire and matron move.
Musing o'er all the past in tender mood.
Feeling so fully that the Lord is good.
And that, compared with His eternal love.
The vast, sublime, and calm or stormy sea.
Is but a drop, lost in immensity!
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Bliss Of God
Poet: Ellwood Haines Stokes
Oh, the glory, highest glory!
Glory of creation's King;
Oh, the story, sweetest story,
Such as angels cannot sing.
Song of songs, redemption, heaven,
Gladness fills the earth and air.
Bliss of God to man is given.
Measured here, unmeasured there.
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Tides of Joy
Poet: Ellwood Haines Stokes
Earth, I have loved thee well -
A leaf, a flower, could swell
The tides of joy which surge me through and through;
Each morning brought its love.
Soft droppings from above.
Life's richest blessings, pure as crystal dew.
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Spring Prophecies
Poet: Ellwood Haines Stokes
Stern Winter strides across the Northern hills,
And through the vales his frozen foot-prints lie;
Death's gloomy work he solemnly fulfills,
And bloom and beauty his embraces fly.
Patches of snow lie on the hillsides cold;
The giant oaks their leafless branches sweep;
The earth is sear, the rugged rocks are bold,
The winds moan sadly, and the heavens weep.
And yet I see beneath this reign of death.
Visions of hope, a beautiful surprise -
The meek arbutus wakes with fragrant breath.
And blue-birds trill their tuneful prophecies.
So, over the storm-capped summits of my life,
Tho' tempests clash, and Winter holds control.
Eternal Spring, full-blooming, ends the strife,
And blue-birds trill sweet carols to the soul.
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So Like The Sea
Poet: Ellwood Haines Stokes
How like the years, O sea!
Sometimes the light smiles on thy bosom deep,
Sometimes rude tempests o'er thy bosom sweep.
Sometimes soft songs lull thee to quiet sleep;
And all thy moods to me,
Are like this human life, filled in with grief,
Till tides of resignation bring relief.
And I am so like thee!
Not in thy greatness! I am very small;
Not in thy power! I am weakness all;
Not in thy grandeur! I have none at all;
And yet, thou wondrous sea.
As in a mirror, I can clearly trace.
My likeness, in thy almost human face.
But yesterday, all light,
To-day I seem as if I never smiled.
Just then, all calm, now, as if never mild.
So lately pure, now everything defiled.
The day is turned to night.
The winds unresting through my midnight sigh,
And tempests howl athwart my spirit's sky.
Then high resolves were made!
Resolves which rushed like billows to the shore,
Resolves renewed and uttered o'er and o'er!
Then, of their weight, sunk, broken evermore!
My foes made me afraid.
And coward like, my little strength gave way,
And high resolves, like billows, broke in spray.
Hope spread her cheerful sails!
And I launched out upon the smiling deep;
But soon harsh tempests down upon me sweep;
Till bowed and broken pride began to weep;
And hurried by the gales,
Or shoreward roughly tossed with giant's grip,
I lay, like Augments of a broken ship.
So ruins round me lie!
So lie the years, driftwood along the lea,
So spars and vows are worked up by the sea;
Then touched by higher tides, roll sluggishly;
Through all the air a cry,
Enthroned with mystic murmurs vague and dim,
Away from God, and sad for want of Him.
And so the years go by!
But shall another thus be spent by me?
Eternal God, lift my soul to thee!
Grant undergirdings of eternity.
Draw, loadstone of the sky,
And howsoever life's stormy billows roll,
Be chart, helm, compass, pilot to my soul!
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