Shaker Commonplace Book

[top left clipping]

A FAILURE. He cast his net at morn where fishers toiled, At eve he drew it empty to the shore; He took the diver's plunge into the sea, But thence within his hand no pearl he bore.

He ran a race, but never reached his goal; He sped an arrow, but he missed his aim; And slept at least beneath a simple stone, With no achievements carved about his name.

Men called it failure, but for my own part I dare not use that word, for what if heaven Shall question, ere its judgment shall be read, Not "hast thou won?" but only "hast thou striven?" ---Sunday School Times.

[top right clipping]

WAITING. Serene I fold my hands and wait, Nor care for wind, nor tide, nor sea; I rave no more 'gainst time or fate, For lo! my own shall come to me.

I stay my haste, I make delays, For what avails this eager pace? I stand amid the eternal ways, And what is mine shall know my face.

Asleep, awake, by night or day, The friends I seek are seeking me; No wind can drive my bark away, Nor change the tide of destiny.

What matter if I stand alone? I wait with joy the coming years; My heart shall reap where it has sown, And garner up its fruit of tears.

The waters know their own, and draw The brook that springs in yonder heights; So flows the good with equal law Unto the soul of pure delights.

Yon floweret nodding in the wind Is ready plighted to the bee; And, maiden, why that look unkind? For, lo! thy lover seeketh thee.

The stars come nightly to the sky, The tidal wave unto the sea; Nor time, nor space, nor deep, nor high, Can keep my own away from me. --John Burroughs.

[lower right clipping]

The following lines of Whittier's were a favorite selection of Lucy Stone's and were repeated at her funeral:— I know not what the future hath Of marvel or surprise, Assured alone that life and death His mercy underlies.

I know not where His islands lift Their fronded palms in air, I only know I cannot drift Beyond His love and care.

And so beside the silent sea I wait the muffled oar. No harm from Him can come to me, On ocean or on shore.

True dignity does not depend on the place we occupy in life, but on the spirit and manner in which the duties of the place are acquitted.

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

What does it Matter? June 90.

Wealth and glory place and power, What are they worth to me or you For the lease of life runs out, in an hour. And death stands ready to claim his due. Sounding honors or heaps of gold What are they all, when all is told?

A pain or a pleasure, a smile, or a tear What does it matter what we claim For we step from the cradle, into the bier, And a careless world, goes on, the same. Hours of gladness, or hours of sorrow What does it matter to us tomorrow.

Truth of love, or vow of friend, Tender caresses, or cruel sneers What do they matter to me in the end For the brief day dies, & the long night nears. Passionate kisses, or tears of gall. The grave will open, & cover them all.

Homeless vagrant, or honored guest, Poor and humble, or rich and great, All are racked, with the world's unrest All must meet with the common fate. Life from childood, till we are old What is it all, when all is told?.

July 90. After All. Susan Coolidge.

Grief is strong, but joy is stronger. Night is long, but day is longer When lifes riddle solves and clears And the Angels in our ears Whisper the sweet answer low, Answer full of love and blessing How how wonderment will grow At the blindness of our guessing All the hard things we recall Made so easy, after all.

Earth is sweet, but heaven is sweeter Love complete, but faith completer,

Close beside our wandering ways Through dark nights and weary days, Stand the angels, with bright eyes And the shadow of the cross Falls upon and sanctifies All our pain, ,, all our loss. Tho' we stumble, tho' we fall God is helping, after all.

Sigh then soul, but sing, in sighing To the happier things replying. Dry the tears that dim thy seeing Give glad thots, for life, and being. Time, is but the little entry To Eternity's large dwelling, And the heavenly guards keep sentry Urging, guiding, half compelling Till, the puzzling way quite past Thou shalt enter in ___ at last!

Thought Odors. Ella Wheeler.

Not what we do, not what we say speaks for us To fine souls here, or to the throne of Light. Tho' words & acts be fair, God will abhor us, And men distrust, if our hearts are not right.

Our secret aim, our hidden wish, or longing Our silent thots of men, or worlds above These are the tell tale forces, that come thronging To point to us, as ones to loathe, or love.

Our thots are odors, and we cannot seal them So close with actions, but they will creep out, And delicately fashioned souls, will feel them And know them sweet or vile, beyond a doubt.

Good deeds fall dead, if selfish causes guide them Good words fall flat, that but from lips have birth And eloquent & noble, seems beside them The silence, or inaction, of true worth.