A STRANGER, with such strange ways!
A peculiar light in his eyes!
A far-off look, a kind of daze—
Unheeding what round him lies.
There is triumph, but not scorn,
And a pity in that light;
A glance that's caught the glimmer of morn,
After a lingering night.
He has a settled peace,
A perennial flow of joy;
A love that never seems to cease,
A sweetness that does not cloy.
His speech and philosophy,—
Not of an earthly school—
Oft lead us to wonder whether he
Be an angel or a fool!
He is absent from our plays,
And awkward in all our things;
We look, at times, as we on him gaze,
To see whether he has wings!
So lightly he touches the earth,
So little he uses what's here;
He seems like a being of higher birth,
To whom unseen things are dear.
The source of his inner calm
To the world is all unknown;
He greets affliction with a psalm,
And sorrow without a groan.
He boweth no knee to man,
He seeks neither wealth nor place;
But from our schemes and every plan
He steadily turns his face.
Of ambition he has none
To help make history,
Or move this world still farther on
Toward man's good time to be.
In everything he is odd!
His religion is not like ours
Perhaps he worships another God
Than the god this world adores!
He speaks very much of death,
Declares he is risen too;
Talks of the judgment-that takes our breath—
Of the " old man " and the "new."
When asked if he'll now settle down,
And here make himself a home;
He says he's but stopping to wait for One
He expects any moment to come!
And then there's a wondrous gleam
And radiance in his face,
When speaking to listeners of HIM,
Who seems to possess ev'ry grace!
He says no two could be found
Adapted so perfectly;
In what he lacks, this One doth abound,
To an infinite degree!
With HIM he is occupied,
For others he has no room;
He's like a lover expecting his bride,
Or, rather, a bride her Groom.
GERSHOM'S the name that he took,
"A stranger:" he acts like it too,
In every motion, in every look—
Who is he, my reader? You?
T.