'T is a land of old romance and story,--
The one that slips into my song,--
As fair as a dream in its glory,
Where nature's rare splendors belong,--
A land where wide, marvelous rivers
Flow over gold sands to the main,
And diamonds and rubies are hidden
In the hills that rise up from the plain;--
A land bounded north by the mountains
Whose tops are forever in snow,
While the waves of a tropical ocean
Lave the South with the sunniest glow;
Wide plains, at the feet of the mountains
Where palm tree and cocoa tree stand,
And the pine-apple, lime, and pomegranate
Drop their richness to bless any hand.
Deep forests of maple and walnut,
The sandalwood rare, and the oak,
With greenness of myrtle and ivy
Hung round their great trunks like a cloak.
Rare birds hide above, in their thickness,
Of marvelous plumage and song,
And great beasts lie down in their shadows
Or move in their might like a throng.
But alas for this land, where the sunlight
Is yellow and rich as its gold,
Where the moonlight gleams radiant silver,
And all things are fair to behold.
Alas! for the land of the myrtle,
The lily, the rose, and the palm,
For here people sit yet, in the darkness,
And look in their need, for a balm.
Thank God that humanity ever
Is filled with unrest in its night,
And struggles on upward, tho' blindly,
Thus pleading for peace and for light.
And lo! one sweet night in the summer
There knelt, in this land of my rhyme,
A woman so young and so lovely
Before a low, wax-lighted shrine.
On the shrine was an idol of silver,
Before it her offering was laid,
And there, with her baby beside her,
The young, sad-soul'd mother thus prayed:
"O beautiful goddess of mercy!
I pray thee have pity and bless,
For I am so wretched and weary;
Have mercy upon my distress."
"This pain of my heart and its longing
Must come from thy anger to me;
O give my soul rest from its sorrow,
And I'll offer a great gift to thee."
The dark eyes were woeful and tearless,
The dusky hair swept to the floor,
And again did the pleading lips utter,
"Have pity on me, I implore!"
She rose from her knees, but the shadow
Lay deeper upon the young face,
And, covering it close with her mantle,
She lifted the child from its place,
And out from her home she went softly
And sped on, still crying for rest,
Till alone by the far-fabled river
She stood with her babe on her breast.
One moment her hungry eyes glittered
Over the sweet little face,
One moment the hungry arms held her
In the closest and wildest embrace.
Then out on the deep, gleaming waters
That mockingly slipped by her feet,
With a cry the heart gives that is broken,
She flung all that made her life sweet.
And down in the sand by the river
She bowed in her sorrow, alone,
And listened while just for a moment
There floated a sweet tender tone
Through the ripple and rush of the waters,
Then died on the air of the night.
And again she cried, "Vishnu! O Vishnu!
Have pity, give peace, and give light."
At length to her home she went slowly,
As if years had passed over her head,
And her mother's heart turned from the goddess,
To mourn for her beautiful dead.
So back to her life and her sorrow
She went as the dawn broke in gray,
But alas, the long night of the spirit
Fled not with the dawning of day.
Is my picture too sad? then another
Shall gild your sad tears with a smile;
Turn the leaf of a year, for the mother
Who gave the dark river her child.
Another dear babe is beside her;
Again she is kneeling in prayer,
But the shrine and the wax lights and idols,
We look for in vain--they're not there.
The dark, mournful eyes are uplifted,
The olive hands clasped on her breast,
"O! Father in heaven," she whispered,
"I thank thee, I thank thee for rest!
O! Jesus, thou mighty Redeemer,
Who bore all the sin of our race,
I thank thee that one so unworthy
Has found thee at last, and thy peace.
"Now, Father in heaven, my baby,
I give all her life unto thee;
The other--thank God she is dwelling
Up there where the glorified be.
O make me so pure and so holy
That, fitted to meet her once more,
We may praise the one God for salvation,
And glorify him evermore.
"And Father, bless more than all others
The one who came over the sea,
To tell, with love patient and tender,
The story of Christ unto me.
And bless thou the hearts that were able
To take all the world in their love,
To remember poor India's daughters
And send her to lead us above.
"O bless them most richly, my Father,
In their homes in a land far away,
For their prayers and their sufferings give them
A home in thy wonderful day.
O Jesus, my blessed Redeemer,
I praise thee again and again
For thy peace, and thy love, and salvation,
And the way into heaven, Amen."
'T is just the old story, you tell me,
That I have been singing today,
Well, what has the world worth the singing
If that is left out of the lay?
What, indeed, since this life and the other,
And vict'ry o'er death and the grave,
And the hope of humanity liveth
In the power of Jesus to save?
O the lands that are sitting in darkness!
O manhood, distorted and vile!
O womanhood, weak and degraded,
And together they rearing a child!
God help us to publish the tidings
Till the banner of Christ is unfurled,
And all people shall hear he has taken
Away all the sin of the world.
