Hannah Gould - Mother's Dream and Other Poems

To grief the night-hours keeping,
A mournful mother lay
Upon her pillow, weeping —
Her babe had passed away.

When she had clasped her treasure
A year and yet a day,
Of time ’t was all its measure —
’T was gone, like morning’s ray!

The jewel, Heaven had shown her,
Of worth surpassing gold,
Was lent her, by its Owner —
’T was never earth’s to hold.

Then, fondly hovering o’er her,
A bright young angel hung;
And warm the love it bore her,
And sweet the song it sung:

“O mother, why this weeping?
Let all thy sorrow cease:
My infant form is sleeping,
Where nought can break its peace.

“And he, who once was blessing
Such little children here,
My spirit now possessing,
Will hold me ever dear.

“I never knew the dreading
Of death’s all-conquering blow;
My mortal raiment shedding,
I rose above the foe.

“Where sickness cannot pain me —
Where comes nor grief nor night —
Where sin shall never stain me,
I dwell, a child of light.

“While many a pilgrim hoary
Treads long earth’s weary way,
I have eternal glory
For one short year and day.”

Yet that sweet angel singing
Its mother could not hear,
For grief her heart was wringing —
She ’d but a mortal ear.

She could not see the beaming
Of his celestial crown;
For fast her tears were streaming;
Her soul to dust bowed down.

A voice from heaven then falling
In soothing tones to her,
As of a Father, calling,
Revealed the Comforter.

And, lifting up her lowly
And sorrow-laden eye,
She saw the King all holy
Upon the throne Most High.

Where shining hosts were pouring
Their praises forth to Him,
She saw her child adoring,
Amid the Seraphim.

Not to the mount, where fire and smoke
Jehovah’s face concealed,
When loud to wandering man he spoke,
To make his law revealed —
Not to the awful splendor there
Can turn my fearful eye:
To hear its thunderings, and to dare
Its lightnings, were to die.

Not on the mount where Moses stood,
The promised land to see
Across the waves of Jordan’s flood,
Is yet the place for me.
My spirit could not bear to take
That fair and glorious view,
Nor dare her wondrous launch to make,
To try the waters through.

Not to the mount where Christ appeared
At once so heavenly bright;
While they, who heard the Father, feared,
And fell before the light —
Not there, my Saviour ever nigh,
Do I his footsteps trace:
His closer followers far, than I,
Attain that higher place.

But, to the mount without a name,
Where Jesus sat and taught,
I daily would assert my claim,
To share the bread he brought.
His words before that multitude
Dropt to his chosen few,
Are manna for my morning food,
My soul’s sweet evening dew.

If to Temptation’s mount I go,
That mount exceeding high ,
My Lord, again rebuke our foe,
And bid the tempter fly.
No kingdom may I seek, but thine;
And let my glory be
A light, reflected pure from thine —
My portion, life with thee!

Oft to the mount of midnight shade,
Of solitude and prayer,
Ascend, my soul, be not afraid
Thy Guide to follow there.
The height and stillness of the scene,
When thou that path hast trod,
Forbids this world to rush between
A spirit and her God.

The mount whereon my Saviour stood,
And o’er the city wept —
Where fell his wo-wrung drops of blood,
While his disciples slept —
There may I go, yet not to sleep
Till Jesus be betrayed;
But, as he went, to pray and weep
O’er sufferings sin hath made.

And to the solemn, shuddering mount,
Where Christ received the cup
Of death, to offer us a fount
Of life, must I go up.
And I must look upon his wo,
On that empurpled tree,
To learn how vast a debt I owe,
By what he paid for me.

Thence to the mount of Galilee
May I the way pursue,
With joy my risen Lord to see,
Ere he ascends from view.
For lo! the heavens their gates unfold
To take their coming King:
His angels harp on strings of gold,
And “Hallelujah!” sing.

Now on Mount Zion may I seek
My shield – my strong, high tower;
And thence, though here so dark and weak,
Be clothed with light and power.
Then at that holy mountain’s top,
My soul, no more to roam,
Unfurl thy wings – thine ashes drop;
And gain thy glorious home.

A solemn night is o’er Jerusalem;
Nature astonished, shrouds herself in gloom;
For he, who was the babe of Bethlehem,
Is now a victim slain, and in the tomb!

The blood, which started with the agony
That in the garden forced his swelling veins,
In crimson streams has poured on Calvary;
A rocky cavern holds his pale remains.

He walked with men, serene in holiness,
The meek, the merciful, through taunts and strife;
The front of pride he met with lowliness,
And bowed to death to lift his foes to life.

Fast as their sins grew bold and multiplied,
His bitter cup was filling to the brim.
Here doth he lie, the pale, the crucified,
With damps and shadows gathered over him.

The dismal night moves on but heavily,
While they, who came the sepulchre to keep
With bristling spears, the Roman soldiery,
Would fain resign their glittering arms for sleep.

Yet they must wake or die; the sentinel
Must keep his constant vigils round the spot
Where he shall find the watch of Israel:
The life, the spirit moves, and heeds him not.

Within the grave, that power victorious
O’er death and darkness, far from mortal sight,
Hath wrought the body bright and glorious
For resurrection by the morning light.

And lo! the shades of night are vanishing;
The guard behold, as comes the dawning day,
Her dubious gloom and dimness banishing,
The stone that barred the tomb is rolled away.

But, where ’s the form that in the drapery,
Which wraps the dead, lay, spiritless and cold,
Within the vault so still and shadowy,
That, as a prison-guard, they came to hold?

That form is gone; its cast-off covering,
The sad habiliments of death, are here,
With burial odors round them hovering,
And white-robed angels calmly sitting near.

But, see the garden, fair and flowering,
Where new-born lilies worship from their stalks;
And boughs with blossoms bend, embowering
The dewy pathway! there the Saviour walks.

The guilty city still is slumbering,
While he is risen from the broken tomb;
As one his vines and fruit trees numbering,
He breathes the incense of their opening bloom.