The One Refuge.

I.

    Storms gather o'er thy path,
Christian! - the sullen, tempest-darkened sky
Grows lurid with the elemental wrath, -
    Say, whither wilt thou fly?

God is my Refuge! - let the tempests come,
They will but speed me sooner to my home!


II.

    Night lowers in sullen gloom,
Christian! - a long, dark night awaiteth thee,
Dreary as Egypt's night of fear and doom, -
    Where will thy hiding be?

God is my refuge! - in the dreary night
In Him I dwell, and have abundant light!


III.

    Thine is a lonely way,
Christian! - and dangers all thy path infest;
Pitfalls and snares crowd all thy doubtful way, -
    Where is thy place of rest?

God is my Refuge! - safe in Him I move,
And feel no fear, kept by sustaining Love.


IV.

    The grave - that dreary place,
Christian, the lonely dwelling in the dust
Awaits thee; 'tis the doom of all thy race, -
    Where, then, shall be thy trust?

God is my refuge! Sweet will be my rest
On the dear pillow that my Saviour pressed!


V.

    Alas! - that dreamless sleep -
Christian, its chains are strong, and hard to break;
All thy belov'd sleep on in silence deep,
    And dost thou hope to wake?

God is my refuge! I shall wake and sing -
"O grave! where is thy vict'ry? - death thy sting?"

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)

Pamela S. Vining, also known by her pseudonym J. C. Yule, was an English poet whose work was recognized in the 19th century. Despite her significant contribution to English poetry, detailed information about her life, including her birth and death dates, remains elusive. She remains a noteworthy figure in the canon of English literature for her emotive and thought-provoking poetry.

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)

Fount Of Bliss

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule), Simple Poetry

Not Yet

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule), Simple Poetry

Under The Rod

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule), Simple Poetry

Drowned

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule), Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

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

Longings

Sleep, gentle, mysterious healer,
    Come down with thy balm-cup to me!
Come down, O thou mystic revealer
    Of glories the day may not see!
For dark is the cloud that is o'er me,
    And heavy the shadows that fall,
And lone is the pathway before me,
    And far-off the voice that doth call -
        Faintly, yet tenderly ever,
            From over the dark river, call.

Let me bask for an hour in the sun-ray
    That wraps him forever in light;
Awhile tread his flowery pathway
    Through bowers of unfailing delight; -
Again clasp the hands I lost sight of
    In the chill mist that hung o'er the tide,
What time, with the pale, silent boatman,
    I saw him away from me glide -
        Out into the fathomless myst'ry,
            All s...

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)

Under The Rod

"Be Still, and know that I am God!"


Be silent, Soul! - though dark thy path and dreary,
    And wild with storm, yet what is that to thee?
Though thou art faint, and desolate, and weary,
    Thy God hath willed thus, - so let it be!
Murmurs the mountain oak when storms assail it,
    And warring tempests wildly shake its form?
Firmer within the earth its root it striketh,
    And gathers strength and vigor from the storm.

Be silent, Soul! - the hand of God is on thee!
    And, as a skillful gard'ner, from the vine
Doth lop away each worthless branch and barren,
    So He would lop each fruitless bough of thine.
Ah! thou art earth-bound, prone, and lowly creeping,
    clinging to things too frail to be thy stay;
Jesus, with watchful care His vineya...

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)

I Will Not Despair.

I will not despair while thou rulest the storm,
    Though the red lightning stream o'er the cloud's sable-breast,
For I catch through the darkness bright gleams of thy form,
    And I know 'tis thy voice lulls the tempest to rest -
                The wild tempest to rest:
Nor yet, though the shadows of deepening night,
    Hang over my path like the pall of despair;
For one star through the gloom sends its hallowed light,
    And I know 'tis thy love smiling tenderly there,
                - Ah! tenderly there.

I will not despair, though the fountain that burst
    For me in life's desert be wasted and dry;
For thy love was the fountain that cheered me at first,
    And again to its life-giving waters I fly -
                O Holiest, fly!
No; I will not d...

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)

Somewhere

"For he looked for a city that hath foundations, whose Maker and Builder is God."


I.

Somewhere, I know, there waits for me
    A home that mocks the pomp of Earth,
Eye hath not seen its majesty,
    Nor heart conceived its priceless worth, -
Talk not of crystal, gems, or gold,
    Or towers that flame in changeless light,
Imagination, weak and cold,
    Faints far below the unmeasured height!
And through its open doors for aye,
    As ages after ages glide,
Without a moment's pause or stay,
    Flows grandly in the living tide -
Brothers, redeemed ones, pressing home
    From every clime, from every shore,
Beneath that fair celestial dome
    Meet to be parted nevermore!


II.

Somewhere, I know, there waits for ...

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)

Look Up

Christian, lookup? thy feet may slide;
    This is a slippery way!
Yet One is walking by thy side
    Whose arm should be thy stay,
Thou canst not see that blessed form,
    Nor view that loving smile
With eager eyes thus earthward bent -
    Christian, look up a while!

Christian, look up! - what seest thou here
    To court thy anxious eyes?
Earth is beneath thee, lone and drear,
    Above, thy native skies!
Beneath, the wreck of faded bloom,
    The shadow, and the clod,
The broken reed, the open tomb, -
    Above thee, is THY GOD!

Look up! thy head too long has been
    Bowed darkly toward the earth,
Thou son of a most Royal Sire,
    Creature of kingly birth!
What! dragging like a very slave
    Earth's heavy galling ch...

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)

Out Of The Depths.

Thou art, and, therefore, Thou art near, oh God!
    Thick darkness covers me, I cannot see;
Is this the Shepherd's crook, or the correcting rod,
    And by Thy hand, O Father, laid on me?

I cry to Thee, and shall I cry in vain?
    My soul looks up as if through prison bars,
Up through the silent Heaven, ah, turn again
    Thy face to me, hide not behind the stars.

Thy presence hath been with me in the past,
    Where "heaps of witness" mark out all the way;
Thy years change not, Thy love is still as vast,
    I look to Thee, I trust Thee though Thou slay.

My friends walk on the hills the sun hath kissed,
    Flowers at their feet, their sky is blue and fair;
I'm prisoned in this vale of tearful mist,
    Shut in with sorrow, darkened by despair....

Nora Pembroke