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By Ryan, Abram Joseph
Plaintive, and pensive and low;
Hath it a heart like mine or thine?
Knoweth it weal or woe?
How it wails in a ghost-like strain,
Just against that window pane!
As if it were tired of its long, cold flight,
By Ryan, Abram Joseph
Cease! night-winds, cease!
Why should you be sad?
This is a night of joy and peace,
And heaven and earth are glad!
But still the wind's voice grieves!
Perchance o'er the fallen leaves,
Which, in their summer bloom,
Danced to the music of bird and breeze,
But, torn from the arms of their parent trees,
By Ryan, Abram Joseph
Ah! there's nothing like a Christmas eve
To melt, with kindly glowing heat,
From off our souls the snow and sleet,
The dreary drift of wintry years,
Only to make the cold winds blow,
Only to make a colder snow;
And make it drift, and drift, and drift,
In flakes so icy-cold and swift,
Until the heart that lies below
By Ryan, Abram Joseph
But list! there soundeth a bell,
With a mystical ding, dong, dell!
Is it, say, is it a funeral knell?
Solemn and slow,
Now loud -- now low;
Pealing the notes of human woe
Over the graves lying under the snow!
Ah! that pitiless ding, dong, dell!
Trembling along the gale,
By Ryan, Abram Joseph
In every soul a bell of dole
Hangs ready to be tolled;
And from that bell a funeral knell
Is often outward rolled;
And memory is the sexton gray
Who tolls the dreary knell;
And nights like this he loves to sway
By Ryan, Abram Joseph
Miserere! Miserere!
Still your heart and hush your breath!
The voices of despair and death
Are shuddering through the psalm!
Miserere! Miserere!
Lift your hearts! the terror dies!
Up in yonder sinless skies
The psalms sound sweet and calm!
Miserere! Miserere!
Very low, in tender tones,
The music pleads, the music moans,
"I forgive and have forgiven,
The dead whose hearts were shriven."
De profundis! De profundis!
Psalm of the dead and disconsolate!
Thou hast sounded through a thousand years,
And...
By Ryan, Abram Joseph
Dread hymn! you wring the saddest tears
From mortal eyes that fall,
And your notes evoke the darkest fears
That human hearts appall!
You sound o'er the good, you sound o'er the bad,
And ever your music is sad, so sad,
We seem to hear murmured in every tone,
By Ryan, Abram Joseph
The stars in the far-off heaven
Have long since struck eleven!
And hark! from temple and from tower,
Soundeth time's grandest midnight hour,
Blessed by the Saviour's birth,
And night putteth off the sable stole,
Symbol of sorrow and sign of dole,
For one with many a starry gem,
To honor the Babe of Bethlehem,
Who comes to men the King of them,
Yet comes without robe or diadem,
And all turn towards the holy east,
By Ryan, Abram Joseph
The waves are weaving a death-shroud
Out on the main to-night;
Alas! the last prayer whispered there
By lips with terror white!
Over the ridge of gloom,
Not a star will loom!
God help the souls that will meet their doom
Before the dawn of light!
By Ryan, Abram Joseph
Her grave is not a grave; it is a shrine,
Where innocence reposes,
Bright over which God's stars must love to shine,
And where, when Winter closes,
Fair Spring shall come, and in her garland twine,
Just like this hand of mine,
By Ryan, Abram Joseph
Day and night, and night and day;
Going and going, and never gone,
Longing to flow to the "far away",
Staying and staying, and never still;
Going and staying, as if one will
Said, "Beautiful river, go to the sea;"
And another will whispered, "Stay with me:"
By Ryan, Abram Joseph
Far away -- far away
To shores all unknown
In the wakings of the day;
To the lovely land of dreams,
Where what is meets with what seems
Brightly dim, dimly bright;
Where the suns meet stars at night,
Where the darkness meets the light
Heart to heart, face to face,
By Ryan, Abram Joseph
"The hated Christians all must die!
As died the Nazarene before,
The God they believe in and adore."
Yet Stephen's heart quailed not with fear
At persecution's cry;
But loving, as he did, the cause
Of Jesus and His faith and laws,
By Ryan, Abram Joseph
Sometimes a sudden look,
That falleth from some face,
Will steal into each nook
Of life, and leave its trace;
To haunt us to the last,
And sway our ev'ry will
Thro' all the days to be,
For goodness or for ill;
Hath this e'er come to thee?
By Ryan, Abram Joseph
The Changeable is but the broidered robe
Enwrapped about the great Unchangeable;
The Audible is but an echo, faint,
Low whispered from the far Inaudible;
This earth is but an humble acolyte
A-kneeling on the lowest altar-step
Of this creation's temple, at the Mass
Of Supernature, just to ring the bell
At Sanctus! Sanctus! Sanctus! while the world
By Ryan, Abram Joseph
"Let me see the sun descending,
I will see his light no more,
For my life, this eve, is ending;
And to-morrow on the shore
That is fair, and white, and golden,
I will meet my God; and ye
Will forget not all the olden,
By Ryan, Abram Joseph
"My last sun! haste! hurry westward!
In the dark of this to-night
My poor soul that hastens rest-ward
`With the Lamb' will find the light;
Death is coming -- and I hear him,
Soft and stealthy cometh he;
But I do not believe I fear him,
God is now so close to me."
By Ryan, Abram Joseph
Slow his steps, for he was weary,
And betimes he paused to rest;
Then he rose, and, pressing onward,
Murmured lowly: "I must haste."
In his hand he held a chaplet,
And his lips were moved in prayer,
For the darkness and the silence
By Ryan, Abram Joseph
Wrapped his senses were in wonder,
On his soul an awe profound,
As the vision burst upon him,
'Mid sweet light and sweeter sound.
"Is it real? is it earthly?
Is it all a fleeting dream?
Hark! those choral voices ringing,
Lo! those forms like angels seem."
By Ryan, Abram Joseph
"We are twelve -- 'twas we who chanted
First the Saviour's lowly birth,
We who brought the joyful tidings
Of His coming, to the earth;
We who sung unto the shepherds,
Watching on the mountain height,
That the Word was made Incarnate