But let us hence,” said Marien

“But let us hence,” said Marien; And with the earliest morn, Within the slender carved boat, They left the isle forlorn.

A light breeze from the desert shore Over the waters blew, And the little boat sailed on before, Till the isle was out of view.

As friends long parted, met once more, They sat; and of times gone, And of the blessed dead conversed, As the slender boat sailed on.

And as they sailed, sweet Marien Over the Gospel bent, And read of joy that is in heaven O’er sinners that repent;

And of the weary prodigal Returning bowed with shame, And the good father hastening forth To meet him as he came;

And how he bade the fairest robe Be brought; the golden ring; Shoes for the feet; and music sweet, As if to hail a king.

“For this, my son,” said he, “was dead, And is alive; is found, Who was long lost: ’tis meet, therefore, That stintless joy abound!”

“Oh, child of woe,” said Marien, “Look up, for thou art he; And round about the father’s throne Many rejoice for thee!”

“Oh Lord, I bless thee,” said the youth, “That of thy mercy great, Thou hast vouchsafed to rescue me From my forlorn estate! And henceforth, to thy work of love Myself I dedicate!

“The meanest of thy creatures, low I bend before thy throne, And offer my poor self to make Thy loving-kindness known!

“Oh father, give me words of power, The stony hearts to move; Give me prevailing eloquence, To publish forth thy love!

“Thy love which wearieth not; which like Thy sun, on all doth shine! Oh Father, let me worship Thee Through life, by gladly serving Thee! I love not life; I ask not wealth; My heart and soul, my youth and health, My life, oh Lord, are thine!”

So spake the youth; but now the boat The glorious island neared, Which, like a cloudland realm of bliss, Above the sea appeared.

Skyward rose sunny peaks, pale-hued As if of opal glow; And crested palms, broad-leaved and tall, In valleys grew below.

A lovely land of flowers, as fair As Paradise, ere sin And sorrow, that corrupting pair, With death had entered in.

A lovely land!—“And even now,” Cried Marien, “see they come, Children of love, my brother, now To bid thee welcome home!

“For these, God kept thee in the wild, From sinful men apart! For these, his people, through distress Made pure thy trusting heart!

“Thy work is here! Go forth, ’mid these Meek children of the sun, Oh servant of the Lord, and tell What He for thee hath done!”

Down to the shore the thousands came, A joyous, peaceful host, To welcome Marien back, whom they Had sorrowed for as lost.

“And welcome to thee, little child!” They sang forth sweet and clear; “And welcome to the stranger poor, Who cometh with thee here!”

And then they brought him silken cloth, Since he was meanly dressed; And juicy, mellow fruits to eat, And perfumed waters for his feet, And mats whereon to rest.

And ever as they served him, They sang forth sweet and low, “Would this repose might solace thee, These apples cure thy woe!”

And though the twain knew not their speech Yet well they understood The looks of love that welcomed them, Their actions kind and good.

With them for many a year abode The youth, and learned their tongue; And with the sound of Christian praise The hills and valleys rung.

Oh beautiful beyond all lands That lay beneath the moon, Was that fair isle of Christian love Of Christian virtues boon.

A joyful people there they dwelt, Unsuffering from their birth; Of simplest life; benignly wise; As angels on the earth.

And with them dwelt the holy youth, Their chief, their priest, their friend, Beloved and loving, for their sakes Willing himself to spend.

Like to some ancient church of Christ, From worldly taint kept free, Lay this delicious isle of love Amid its summer sea.

But now the work he had to do Was done; and ere his day Approached its noon, his strength, his life, Was wearing fast away.

They saw his cheek grow thin and pale; His loving eye grow dim; And with surpassing tenderness They sorrowed over him.

Old men, and youths, and women meek, And children wild and young, Followed his steps with watchful care, And weeping round him hung.

In flowery thickets of the hills Sad mourners knelt in prayer, That God this servant so revered, This friend beloved would spare.

And round about his feet they sat, Observant, meek, and still, To gather up his latest words, To do his slightest will.

Now all this while good Marien Had wandered far and wide, Through divers realms, for many a year, The hand of Heaven her guide.

And now unto the glorious isle She came; but on the shore She saw no wandering company, As she had seen before.

’Twas Sabbath eve, and o’er the isle A solemn stillness lay; A stillness, how unlike the calm Of many a Sabbath day;

A hush, as of suspended breath, Ere some great grief began; For the mournful people silently Stood round the dying man.

Through the still vales went Marien, And came at length to where, ’Mid flowering trees, knelt many a one In agony of prayer.

Onward she went, not many steps, With heart of mournful ruth, When, like a dying angel laid, She saw the holy youth.

With closed eyes and pallid lips He lay, as one whose life Meeteth with death, yet waiteth still The last conflicting strife.

Beside him knelt she on the turf, And spoke in accents low Words of strong love, which like new life Seemed through the frame to go.

He raised himself, and blessing God, That He of him had care, And now in his dark trial-hour, Had sent his angel there;

With low-toned voice, more musical Than softest lute could make, Looking upon his weeping friends With fervent love, he spake.

“Oh friends, beloved friends! weep not, Nor be oppressed with woe; ’Tis of His will, who doeth right, That I am called to go!

“Fain would I tarry, but the cry Hath sounded in mine ear, ‘Haste to depart, the Lord hath need Of thee no longer here!’

“Even like the Master whom I serve, I pray ye not to grieve; But as ye have believed in me, Also in Him believe!

“I go, but leave you not forlorn, As sheep without a guide;— For Christ the unfailing Comforter Shall still with you abide!

“Oh weep not, friends; a better home Awaits me, and I go, But to that home which is prepared For ye who love me so! Farewell, farewell! Unto my God, And unto yours, I go!”

The Sabbath sun went down amid A golden, cloudless sky; And the freed spirit, cleansed from sin, Arose to God on high.

Beneath the trees where he had died, They buried him, and there Enwove the flowery boughs to form A quiet house of prayer.

Long time with them dwelt Marien, Until she was sent forth, At the Lord’s bidding to perform New service on the earth.

Good speed to thee, thou blessed child, May angels guide thy bark, ’Mid slumbrous calm, ’mid tempests wild, And o’er the waters dark!

Good speed to thee, thou blessed child— The angel of the poor— And win from sorrow and from sin The world from shore to shore!