Poems (Emma M. Ballard Bell)/Life's River
LIFE'S RIVER.
By a gently flowing river,
In the quiet hour of sunset,
Once a maiden sat and pondered.
Soon the quiet scene before her
Seemed to change, as if by magic;
And she thought that she was standing
By a broader, deeper river,
O'er whose wide and restless waters
Many, many barks were sailing,
Laden with immortal beings.
In this stream were many islands,
Some of them all bright and lovely,
Covered with the fairest verdure;
Lofty trees with pleasant shadows,
Blossoms of the sweetest fragrance,
Fountains of clear, gushing waters,
Made them fair almost as Eden.
In this stream were rocky islands,
With their cliffs all dark and frowning
Rising from the river-channel;
While the waters round them flowing
Foamed and dashed like ocean billows.
Now and then a bark was stranded
On those bleak and barren islands,
Or engulfed within the surges
Round them rushing swiftly, wildly.
Then the dark cliffs of those islands
Sent forth echoes wild and dismal;
Echoes of the cries of anguish
And the wild shrieks of the victims.
While the maiden thus intently
Gazed upon the scene before her,
Lo! there came a glorious being,
Clad in robes all white and gleaming,—
Came and stood beside the maiden,
Fixed his spirit gaze upon her,
Lit with holy inspiration.
And she said, "O holy being!
Tell me of this wondrous river;
Tell me of those sunny islands,
With their bow'rs and trees and fountains;
Tell me of yon rocky islands,
With their cliffs all dark and frowning."
Then the angel, smiling sweetly,
Though his smile was tinged with sadness,
Quickly thus addressed the maiden:
"This is Life's swift-rushing river.
Yonder bright and sunny islands
Are the isles of joy and gladness,—
Joys so bright, but brief and fleeting.
Askest thou of yon dark islands?
There Remorse, like some wan specter,
To and fro is wand'ring ever.
And when mortals, wand'ring, erring,
Love no more the good and noble,
Love no more the pure and holy,
Spirits from the realms of darkness
Urge them onward to those surges,
To those dark and fatal islands;
With Despair's black, starless midnight
Hanging with its gloom above them,
There in hopelessness they perish,
Lost to earth and lost to heaven.
Sometimes tearful-eyed Repentance,
Ere they reach those fearful islands,
Guides them to some quiet haven.
But their barks are tempest-beaten;
They have lost fair Truth's bright blossoms,
Most of Wisdom's precious jewels;
Only after toil and labor,
After weary, weary waitings,
Can they gain more of those treasures.
So they find, although Repentance
Sanctifieth, while it blesseth,
Innocence, that guardian angel,
Still is better than Repentance."
In low accents, then the maiden
Spoke again unto the angel:
"On the banks of this swift river
Grow dark trees with drooping branches;
And they fling their somber shadows
Far across the rolling billows.
And when o'er the deep, deep waters,
Darkened by these mournful shadows,
Sails a bark with mortals laden,
Lo! a change comes o'er their faces:
Lips no more with smiles are parted;
Eyes no more with laughter glisten;
But a strange, strange look of sorrow
Settles dark upon their faces.
Now and then a tearful mortal
Lifts an eye of faith to heaven,
Gazes, too, on yonder mountains,
With their summits crowned with verdure
Bathed in purest light celestial.
Now explain, O holy being,
This strange scene, so fraught with myst'ry."
Thus she said. The angel answered,
"While the dark, dark trees of sorrow
Fling their deep and mournful shadows
O'er the current of Life's waters,
Woe and pain and grief and anguish
Still must be the lot of mortals.
Oft the noble soul grows nobler,
Stronger made through what it suffers;
Driven from the sunny islands
Of earth's joys, so bright, but fleeting,
To the everlasting mountains,
To the heights beyond, above it,
With imploring gaze it turneth,
Asking for the smiles of Heaven
And the love of God and angels.
And in far-off realms of glory,
Where eternal skies are gleaming,
Where no shadows e'er have fallen,
And the night hath never entered,
All earth's sorrow-stricken children,
Trusting in the arm Almighty,
Dwell at last in peace and gladness.
When are past life's storms and tempests,
All its shadows and its darkness,
Then in loving tones the spirit,
Bound no more to earth's dominions,
In its holy joy may utter,
'Even for the hour of anguish
I would praise Thee, O my Father.'"
In the quiet hour of sunset,
Once a maiden sat and pondered.
Soon the quiet scene before her
Seemed to change, as if by magic;
And she thought that she was standing
By a broader, deeper river,
O'er whose wide and restless waters
Many, many barks were sailing,
Laden with immortal beings.
In this stream were many islands,
Some of them all bright and lovely,
Covered with the fairest verdure;
Lofty trees with pleasant shadows,
Blossoms of the sweetest fragrance,
Fountains of clear, gushing waters,
Made them fair almost as Eden.
In this stream were rocky islands,
With their cliffs all dark and frowning
Rising from the river-channel;
While the waters round them flowing
Foamed and dashed like ocean billows.
Now and then a bark was stranded
On those bleak and barren islands,
Or engulfed within the surges
Round them rushing swiftly, wildly.
Then the dark cliffs of those islands
Sent forth echoes wild and dismal;
Echoes of the cries of anguish
And the wild shrieks of the victims.
While the maiden thus intently
Gazed upon the scene before her,
Lo! there came a glorious being,
Clad in robes all white and gleaming,—
Came and stood beside the maiden,
Fixed his spirit gaze upon her,
Lit with holy inspiration.
And she said, "O holy being!
Tell me of this wondrous river;
Tell me of those sunny islands,
With their bow'rs and trees and fountains;
Tell me of yon rocky islands,
With their cliffs all dark and frowning."
Then the angel, smiling sweetly,
Though his smile was tinged with sadness,
Quickly thus addressed the maiden:
"This is Life's swift-rushing river.
Yonder bright and sunny islands
Are the isles of joy and gladness,—
Joys so bright, but brief and fleeting.
Askest thou of yon dark islands?
There Remorse, like some wan specter,
To and fro is wand'ring ever.
And when mortals, wand'ring, erring,
Love no more the good and noble,
Love no more the pure and holy,
Spirits from the realms of darkness
Urge them onward to those surges,
To those dark and fatal islands;
With Despair's black, starless midnight
Hanging with its gloom above them,
There in hopelessness they perish,
Lost to earth and lost to heaven.
Sometimes tearful-eyed Repentance,
Ere they reach those fearful islands,
Guides them to some quiet haven.
But their barks are tempest-beaten;
They have lost fair Truth's bright blossoms,
Most of Wisdom's precious jewels;
Only after toil and labor,
After weary, weary waitings,
Can they gain more of those treasures.
So they find, although Repentance
Sanctifieth, while it blesseth,
Innocence, that guardian angel,
Still is better than Repentance."
In low accents, then the maiden
Spoke again unto the angel:
"On the banks of this swift river
Grow dark trees with drooping branches;
And they fling their somber shadows
Far across the rolling billows.
And when o'er the deep, deep waters,
Darkened by these mournful shadows,
Sails a bark with mortals laden,
Lo! a change comes o'er their faces:
Lips no more with smiles are parted;
Eyes no more with laughter glisten;
But a strange, strange look of sorrow
Settles dark upon their faces.
Now and then a tearful mortal
Lifts an eye of faith to heaven,
Gazes, too, on yonder mountains,
With their summits crowned with verdure
Bathed in purest light celestial.
Now explain, O holy being,
This strange scene, so fraught with myst'ry."
Thus she said. The angel answered,
"While the dark, dark trees of sorrow
Fling their deep and mournful shadows
O'er the current of Life's waters,
Woe and pain and grief and anguish
Still must be the lot of mortals.
Oft the noble soul grows nobler,
Stronger made through what it suffers;
Driven from the sunny islands
Of earth's joys, so bright, but fleeting,
To the everlasting mountains,
To the heights beyond, above it,
With imploring gaze it turneth,
Asking for the smiles of Heaven
And the love of God and angels.
And in far-off realms of glory,
Where eternal skies are gleaming,
Where no shadows e'er have fallen,
And the night hath never entered,
All earth's sorrow-stricken children,
Trusting in the arm Almighty,
Dwell at last in peace and gladness.
When are past life's storms and tempests,
All its shadows and its darkness,
Then in loving tones the spirit,
Bound no more to earth's dominions,
In its holy joy may utter,
'Even for the hour of anguish
I would praise Thee, O my Father.'"