A True Man

With purpose strong to do or die,
The race of life he ran,
With love supreme to God on high,
And equal love to man.

Some flaws the earthen vessel marred,
Which all could clearly see;
Within was found the precious nard;
From guile his heart was free.

In motive e'er is found the sin;
Let that to God be true,
And he the Judge's smile will win,
And man's approval too.

Joseph Horatio Chant

Joseph Horatio Chant was a Canadian poet known for his religious and nature-inspired verse. He worked as a farmer and later became an ordained Methodist minister, which influenced his poetry. Chant's work gained modest recognition for its sincere exploration of faith and the Canadian landscape, contributing to the country's early literary heritage. He lived and wrote during the late 19th and early 20th centuries.

Joseph Horatio Chant

The Frost On The Window

Joseph Horatio Chant, Simple Poetry

Wilt Thou Harass A Driven Leaf?

Joseph Horatio Chant, Simple Poetry

To Mr. Rudyard Kipling[1]

Joseph Horatio Chant, Simple Poetry

Friendship

Joseph Horatio Chant, Simple Poetry

English

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Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

True Love

He loves not much who loves not honor more;
If men lack this then love must lack as well;
If this possessed no tongue love's depths can tell;
The heart an ocean filled from shore to shore.

Seeing in him the possibility
Of likeness to the great and Blessed One;
It may be even now in him begun.
I love him much for what I hope to be,

And show my love by yielding him his due;
For sentimental love is ever vain,
It cannot peace, much less heaven's favor gain;
But those who love in deed are blessed and true.

Joseph Horatio Chant

A Merognostic

I know in part, but know not all,
The part I know is known;
What know I not I hope with Paul
To know before the throne.
Till then where knowledge fails I trust
The truth God has revealed,
As known by me, forever must
Be like the truth concealed.

I know God is, tho' hid from sight,
And know He cares for me;
In blessing me He takes delight,
And I by faith can see
His skilful hand and loving heart,
In all my life's affairs,
And feel content to know but part
If He knows all my cares.

I know God gave His Son to die
A sacrifice for man,
And live all who on Him rely,
And meet His claims I can,
Yet I know not how in Him meet
The human and divine;
But God He is, and at His feet
I fall, and feel Him mine.

Nor do ...

Joseph Horatio Chant

Father Of Universal Man

Father of Universal Man,
Where'er in this wide world he roam,
Not known to thee by kith or clan,
Nor height, nor breadth of mental dome,
Nor babbling tongue, nor sounding creed,
But by his woe and common need.

The pushing Anglo-Saxon race,
The Celts with wealth of heart and mind,
The Esquimaux of leaden face,
The Arabs whom no chain can bind,
With hardy Boers and all the rest,
Are with one common Father blest.

And all are brothers, though at times
Our flashing swords obscure the sun.
We ring aloud our Christmas chimes,
But louder sounds the booming gun,
And brother is by brother slain,
And kindred ties are rent in twain.

Yet Thou art true whate'er betide;
Thy heart o'er human woe doth melt;
For men of every race Christ die...

Joseph Horatio Chant

The Heroes Of Our Day

Heroic deeds in every age
Command the world's esteem;
Each finds a place in history's page,
'Midst gloom a glory beam.

And we full oft revert to this,
To show man's true descent
From Him who is the source of bliss,
Tho' now by passions rent.

But we need not consult the past;
The present bears this fruit:
The hero race will ever last;
The tree is sound at root.

And never has the world excelled
The present in this line;
Our loving Lord has not withheld
From us this trait divine.

And we should not from them withhold
The praise we feel is due
For deeds of love, and actions bold,
For spirit kind and true.

Their worth we now should recognize,
Not chant it o'er their graves;
The hero of the past we prize,

Joseph Horatio Chant

The Royal Way

Perfection ever is the price of toil.
Of marchings long, and hardships by the way,
Of burdens borne, oft in the heat of day,
'Tis then as right the victor claims the spoil.

The world admires the wreath upon his brow,
But he alone can tell how much it cost,
And how to gain it he had all things lost.
Results men see, but not the when, or how.

The stately elm which rears its head so high,
And spreads abroad so gracefully its boughs,
Beneath which may repose a herd of cows,
Grows under ground as well as toward the sky.

The bridge which spans the swiftly-flowing stream
O'er which the iron horse, by night and day,
With heavy tread speeds on its busy way,
Rests not on sand, nor slender post and beam.

Below the shifting sand, on solid rock,

Joseph Horatio Chant

Friendship

When presses hard my load of care,
And other friends from me depart,
I want a friend my grief to share,
With faithful speech and loving heart.

I want a friend of noble mind,
Who loves me more than praise or pelf,
Reproves my faults with spirit kind,
And thinks of me as well as self--

A friend whose ear is ever closed
Against traducers' poison breath;
And, though in me be not disclosed
An equal love, yet loves till death--

A friend who knows my weakness well,
And ever seeks to calm my fears;
If words should fail the storm to quell,
Will soothe my fevered heart with tears--

A friend not moved by jealousy
Should I outrun him in life's race;
And though I doubt, still trusts in me
With loyal heart and cloudless face.

Joseph Horatio Chant