Deep is the air and dark, substantial, black, - Answer ! and let the ice-plains echo, God! sounds ! O dread and silent Mount! I gazed upon thee, And they too have a voice, yon piles of snow, Till thou, still present to the bodily sense, And in their perilous fall shall thunder, God ! Didst vanish from my thought. Entranced in Ye living flowers that skirt the eternal frost ! prayer Ye wild goats sporting round the eagle's nest ! I worshipped the Invisible alone. Ye eagles, playmates of the mountain-storin ! Ye lightnings, the dread arrows of the clouds ! Yet, like some sweet beguiling melody, Ye signs and wonders of the elements ! So sweet we know not we are listening to it, Utter forth God, and fill the hills with praise ! Thou, the mean while, wast blending with my Thou, too, hoar Mount ! with thy sky-pointing thought, Yea, with my life and life's own secret joy, peaks, Till the dilating soul, enrapt, transfused, Oft from whose feet the avalanche, unheard, Into the mighty vision passing, there, Shoots downward, glittering through the pure As in her natural form, swelled vast to Heaven ! serene, Into the depth of clouds that veil thy breast, Awake, my soul ! not only passive praise Thou too again, stupendous Mountain ! thou Thou owest ! not alone these swelling tears, That as I raise my head, awhile bowed low Mute thanks, and secret ecstasy! Awake, In adoration, upward from thy base Voice of sweet song! Awake, my heart, awake! Slow travelling with dim eyes suffused with tears, Green vales and icy cliffs, all join my hymn. Solemnly seemest, like a vapory cloud, To rise before me, - Rise, O, ever rise ! Thou first and chief, sole sovereign of the vale ! Rise like a cloud of incense, from the Earth ! 0, struggling with the darkness all the night, Thou kingly Spirit throned among the hills, And visited all night by troops of stars, Thou dread ambassador from Earth to Heaven, Or when they climb the sky or when they sink, - Great Hierarch! tell thou the silent sky, Companion of the morning-star at dawn, And tell the stars, and tell yon rising sun, Thyself Earth's rosy star, and of the dawn Earth, with her thousand voices, praises God. Co-herald, — wake, 0, wake, and utter praise ! SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE. Who sank thy sunless pillars deep in earth? Who filled thy countenance with rosy light ? Who made thee parent of perpetual streams? THOU ART, O GODAnd you, ye five wild torrents fiercely glad ! " The day is thine, the night also is thine : thou hast prepared Whoes the light and the sun. Thou hast set all the borders of the earth : thou hast made summer and winter." – PSALM Ixxiv. 16, 17. From dark and icy caverns called you forth, Down those precipitous, black, jagged rocks, Tuou art, O God, the life and light Forever shattered and the same forever ? Of all this wondrons world we see; Who gave you your invulnerable life, Its glow by day, its smile by night, Your strength, your speed, your fury, and yourjoy, Are but reflections caught from thee. Unceasing thunder and eternal foam ? Where'er we turn thy glories shine, And who commanded (and the silence came), And all things fair and bright are thine ! Here let the billows stiffen, and have rest ? When day, with farewell beam, delays Among the opening clouds of even, Ye ice-falls ! ye that from the mountain's brow And we can almost think we gaze Adown enormous ravines slope amain, — Through golden vistas into heaven, Torrents, methinks, that heard a mighty voice, Those hues that make the sun's decline And stopped at once amid their maddest plunge ! So soft, so radiant, Lord ! are thine. Motionless torrents ! silent cataracts ! Who made you glorious as the gates of Heaven When night, with wings of starry gloom, Beneath the keen full moon ? Who bade the sun O'ershadows all the earth and skies, Clothe you with rainbows? Who, with living Like some dark, beauteous bird, whose plume flowers Is sparkling with unnumbered eyes, Of loveliest blue, spread garlands at your feet ? That sacred gloom, those fires divine, God !- let the torrents, like a shout of nations, ! So grand, so countless, Lord ! are thine., When youthful spring around us breathes, Thy Spirit warms her fragrant sigh; Is born beneath that kindling eye. THOMAS MOORE. Judge not the Lord by feeble sense, But trust him for his grace ; Behind a frowning providence He hides a smiling face. Unfolding every hour ; But sweet will be the flower. THE HEAVENS DECLARE THY GLORY, LORD! Blind unbelief is sure to err, And scan his work in vain ; God is his own interpreter, And he will make it plain. WILLIAM COWPER. PSALM XIX. The heavens declare thy glory, Lord ! In every star thy wisdom shines ; But when our eyes behold thy word, We read thy name in fairer lines. THROUGH LIFE'S VAPORS DIMLY SEEING. The rolling sun, the changing light, And nights and days thy power confess ; But the blest volume thou hast writ Reveals thy justice and thy grace. Sun, moon, and stars convey thy praise Round the whole earth, and never stand ; So when thy truth began its race It touched and glanced on every land. Nor shall thy spreading gospel rest Till through the world thy truth has run ; Till Christ has all the nations blest That see the light or feel the sun. Great Sun of Righteousness, arise ! Bless the dark world with heavenly light! Thy gospel makes the simple wise, — Thy laws are pure, thy judgments right. Thy noblest wonders here we view, In souls renewed and sins forgiven; Lord, cleanse my sins, my soul renew, And make thy word my guide to heaven! ISAAC WATTS. Through life's vapors dimly seeing, Who but longs for light to break! Othe feverish dream of being ! When, 0, when shall we awake? O the hour when this material Shall have vanished as a cloud, When amid the wide ethereal All the invisible shall crowd, And the naked soul, surrounded With realities unknown, Feel herself with God alone ! By what new and finer sense And receive its influence ? Angels, guard the new immortal, Through the wonder-teeming space, To the spirit's resting-place. Through the circling heavens shall roll, Till the day of consummation, Till the bridal of the soul. GOD MOVES IN A MYSTERIOUS WAY. God moves in a mysterious way His wonders to perform ; And rides upon the storm. Of never-failing skill And works his sovereign will. The clouds ye so much dread In blessings on your head. Jesus, blessed Mediator ! Thou the airy path hast trod; Thou the Judge, the Consummator ! Shepherd of the fold of God! Can I trust a fellow-being ? Can I trust an angel's care ? O thou merciful All-seeing ! Beam around my spirit there. Blessed fold ! no foe can enter ; And no friend departeth thence ; Jesus is their sun, their centre, And their shield Omnipotence. O, how the thought of God attracts And draws the heart from carth, And sickens it of passing shows And dissipating mirth! Though long and rough the road; Yet nothing less can satisfy The love that longs for God. O, utter but the name of God Down in your heart of hearts, And see how from the world at once All tempting light departs. AMAZING, beauteous change! In all I trace, Be thine the praise ! Néw grass is seen, Of living green. The blushing rose Their sweets disclose. Tall cedars nod, A trusting heart, a yearning cye, Can win their way above ; If mountains can be moved by faith, Is there less power in love ? How little of that road, my soul, How little hast thou gone ! Take heart, and let the thought of God Allure thee farther on. Dole not thy duties out to God, But let thy hand be free; Look long at Jesus ; his sweet blood, How was it dealt to thee? The perfect way is hard to flesh; It is not hard to love ; How swiftly wouldst thou move! FABER. The tyrants of the plain But infant hands BEFORE JEHOVAH'S AWFUL THRONE. BEFORE Jehovah's awful throne, Ye nations, bow with sacred joy ; He can create, and he destroy. THE SABBATH. His sovereign power, without our aid, Made us of clay, and formed us men ; And when, like wandering sheep, we strayed, He brought us to his fold again. We are his people; we his care, — Our souls, and all our mortal frame; What lasting honors shall we rear, Almighty Maker, to thy name ? We'll crowd thy gates with thankful songs; High as the heaven our voices raise ; Shall fill thy courts with sounding praise. Vast as eternity thy love; ISAAC WATTS. How still the morning of the hallowed day! song. :hum Of early bee, the trickling of the dew, The distant bleating, midway up the hill. Calmness sits throned on yon unmoving cloud. To him who wanders o'er the upland leas The blackbird's note comes mellower from the dale ; And sweeter from the sky the gladsome lark Warbles his heaven-tuned song; the lulling brook Murmurs more gently down the deep-worn glen ; While from yon lowly roof, whose circling smoke O'ermounts the mist, is heard at intervals The voice of psalms, the simple song of praise. With dovelike wings Peace o'er yon village broods; The dizzying mill-wheel rests; the anvil's din Hath ceased ; all, all around is quietness. Less fearful on this day, the limping hare Stops, and looks back, and stops, and looks on man, Her deadliest foe. The toilworn horse, set free, Unheedful of the pasture, roams at large ; And as his stiff, unwieldly bulk he rolls, His iron-armed hoofs gleam in the morning ray. AND LET THIS FEEBLE BODY DIE. And let it faint or die; And soar to worlds on high ; And find its long-sought rest, That only bliss for which it pants, In the Redeemer's breast.. JAMES GRAHAME. In hope of that immortal crown I now the cross sustain ; And smile at toil and pain. Till my Deliverer come, And take his exile home. THE MEETING. 0, what hath Jesus bought for me? Before my ravished eye, And trees of Paradise ! Who taste the pleasures there ! They all are robed in spotless white, * And conquering palms they bear. 0, what are all my sufferings here, If, Lord, thou count me meet And worship at thy feet ! Take life or friends away, In that eternal day. . The elder 'folk shook hands at last, Down seat by seat the signal passed. To simple ways like ours unused, Half solemnized and half amused, With long-drawn breath and shrug, my guest His sense of glad relief expressed. Outside the hills lay warm in sun; The cattle in the meadow-run Stood half-leg deep ; a single bird The green repose above us stirred. “What part or lot have you,” he said, “In these dull rites of drowsy-head ? Is silence worship? Seek it where It soothes with dreams the summer air, Not in this close and rude-benched hall, But where soft lights and shadows fall, And all the slow, sleep-walking hours Glide soundless over grass and flowers ! CHARLES WESLEY. |
