« PreviousContinue »
In His own words we Christ adore,
Higher above our meaning soar
Than we o'er children weak:
And yet His words mean more than they,
Why should we think, He turns away
THE shadow of th' Almighty's cloud
Calm on the tents of Israel lay,
While drooping paus'd twelve banners proud, Till He arise and lead the way.
Then to the desert breeze unroll'd
So should thy champions, ere the strife,
Steady and pure as stars that beam
And soft as pure, and warm as bright,
Spirit of might and sweetness too!
Now leading on the wars of God, Now to green isles of shade and dew Turning the waste thy people trod;
Draw, Holy Ghost, thy seven-fold veil Between us and the fires of youth; Breathe, Holy Ghost, thy freshening gale, Our fever'd brow in age to soothe.
And oft as sin and sorrow tire,
The hallow'd hour do Thou renew, When beckon❜d up the awful choir
By pastoral hands, toward Thee we drew;
When trembling at the sacred rail
We hid our eyes and held our breath, Felt thee how strong, our hearts how frail, And long'd to own thee to the death.
For ever on our souls be trac'd
That blessing dear, that dove-like hand, A sheltering rock in Memory's waste,
O'er-shadowing all the weary land.
THERE is an awe in mortals' joy,
To Eden's portal, and those fires
We cower before th' heart-searching eye
In rapture as in pain;
Then in the air she fearless springs,
The breath of Heaven beneath her wings, And leaves her woodnote wild, and sings
A tun'd and measur'd strain.
Ill fare the lay, though soft as dew
And free as air it fall,
That, with thine altar full in view,
Thy votaries would enthrall
To a foul dream, of heathen night,
Far other strains, far other fires,
Approaching down the hallow'd aisle !
Where should ye seek Love's perfect smile, But where your prayers were learn'd erewhile, In her own native place?
Where, but on His benignest brow,
Who waits to bless you here?
Living, He own'd no nuptial vow,
very self-for Him no need
To nurse, on earth, the heavenly seed :