Before Him weltered like a shoreless sea
The souls of them that had not sought to be,
With all their guilt upon them, and they cried,
They that had sinned from hate and lust and pride,
" Thou that didst make us what we might become,
Judge us! " The Judge of all the earth was dumb;
But high above them, in His sovereign place,
He lifted up the pity of His face.

Before Him weltered like a shoreless sea
The souls of them that had not sought to be,
With all their guilt upon them, and they cried,

Before He formed a star
Our God arranged our lot;
Our little lives were planned afar,
When we as yet were not.

Time hath no aimless strands,
God's warp and woof combines;
Life's loom is in His holy hands,
His shuttles know their lines.

He purposed all He sends,
He knows what us awaits;
He marketh now the distant ends
Of paths to hidden gates.

All acts His eyes foresee
And never choice constrain;
So willeth He that we are free
His grace to lose or gain.

His love hath filled the past,

Before God's footstool to confess
A poor soul knelt, and bowed his head;
“I failed,” he cried. The Master said,
“Thou didst thy best—that is success!”

Before God's footstool to confess
A poor soul knelt, and bowed his head;
“I failed,” he cried. The Master said,
“Thou didst thy best—that is success!”

The bees in the clover are making honey, and I am making my hay:
The air is fresh, I seem to draw a young man's breath to-day.

The bees and I are alone in the grass: the air is so very still
I hear the dam, so loud, that shines beyond the sullen mill.

Yes, the air is so still that I hear almost the sounds I cannot hear —
That, when no other sound is plain, ring in my empty ear:

The chime of striking scythes, the fall of the heavy swaths they sweep —
They ring about me, resting, when I waver half asleep;

Been to Pike's Peak, lost all my dimes,
And for a week had “darn'd hard times”
Hunting for gold, 'mong rocks and hills,
Catching a cold, the fever and chills.
Got mighty sick—felt very sad,
Stung to the quick, times were so bad;
Money all spent, worn out my shoes,
Clothing all rent—I had the blues:
Got in the lurch—my spirits down,
Gave up the search, came back to town,
Footsore, weary, hungry, spleeny,
Heartsick, dreary, and ———greeny
To leave mother, a pleasant home,
And a dear brother, away to roam,

Been on the hummer since ninety-four,
Last job I had was on the Lake Shore,
Lost my office in the A. R. U.
And I won't get it back till nineteen-two
And I'm still on the hog train flagging my meals,
Ridin' the brake beams close to the wheels.

A bee upon a briar-rose hung
And wild with pleasure suck'd and kiss'd;
A flesh-fly near, with snout in dung,
Sneer'd, "What a Transcendentalist!"

Becky
Deem
She was a gambling gal
Win all the money
And she winned it fair
Becky
Deem
She was a gambling gal
She win all the money
And she winned it fair

Becky
Deem
Had the gamblers all on the ground
She win all the money
The skinners / laid / down
Becky
Deem
Had the gamblers all on the ground
She win all the money
The skinners / laid / down

She started
To hit one
With her cigarette case
Might-a hear the rascal hollering
Don't you murder me
She started
To hit one

Because you are to me a song
I must not sing you over-long.

Because you are to me a prayer
I cannot say you everywhere.

Because you are to me a rose —
You will not stay when summer goes.

Because thow wast the daughter of a kyng,
whose beautye, dyd all natures workes exceede,
and wysedome, wonder to the world dyd breede,
a Muse myght rayse yt self on Cupids wynge.
But syth theys graces which from Nature sprynge,
were grac'd by those which from grace dyd proceede,
and glory haith deserv'd; my muse doth neede
an Angells feathers, when thy prayse I synge.
For all in thee, became Angelycall:
an Angells face, had Angells puritye:
and thou an Angells tongue did'st speake withall.
Loe why thy sowle sett free by Martyrdome,