Is like a breathing from a rarer world; And the south wind seems liquid-it o'ersteals My bosom and my brow so bathingly. It has come over gardens, and the flowers That kissed it are betrayed; for as it parts, With its invisible fingers, my loose hair, I know it has been trifling with the rose, And stooping to the violet. There is joy For all God's creatures in it. The wet leaves Are stirring at its touch, and birds are singing As if to breathe were music; and the grass Sends up its modest odour with the dew, Like the small tribute of humility. Lovely indeed is morning! I have drunk Its fragrance and its freshness, and have feit Its delicate touch; and 'tis a kindlier thing .Than music, or a feast, or medicine.
I had awoke from an unpleasant dream, And light was welcome to me. I looked out To feel the common air, and when the breath Of the delicious morning met my brow, Cooling its fever, and the pleasant sun Shone on familiar objects, it was like The feeling of the captive who comes forth From darkness to the cheerful light of day. Oh! could we wake from sorrow; were it ali A troubled dream like this, to cast aside Like an untimely garment with the morn; Could the long fever of the heart be cooled By a sweet breath from nature; or the gloom Of a bereaved affection pass away
With looking on the lively tint of flowers- How lightly were the spirit reconciled
To make this beautiful, bright world its home!
THE SUMMIT OF MOUNT SINAI.
I SEEK the mountain, and alone I seem in this sequestered place Not so: I meet, unseen, yet known, My Maker, face to face.
My heart perceives his presence nigh, And hears his voice proclaim, While bright his glory passes by, His noblest name.
Love is that name-for "God is Love." Here, where, unbuilt by mortal hands- Mountains below, and heaven above- His awful temple stands,
I worship. Lord, though I am dust And ashes in thy sight,
Be thou my strength;-in thee I trust;- Be thou my light.
Hither, of old, the Almighty came: Clouds were his car, his steeds the wind; Before him went devouring flame,
And thunder rolled behind.
At his approach the mountains reeled, Like vessels to and fro;
Earth, heaving like a sea, revealed The gulfs below.
Borne through the wilderness in wrath, He seem'd, in power alone, a God: But blessings followed in his path, For Mercy seized his rod.
He smote the rock, and, as he passed, Forth gushed a living stream;
The fire, the earthquake, and the blast, Fled as a dream.
BRIGHT in the eastern firmament The star upon the Magi smil'd; Before them in their progress went, And led them to the Heavenly Child.
Had fear or doubt their hearts assail'd, Had they refus'd to follow on, Little to them it had avail'd
That thus before their steps it shone.
But when its glory they espied,
Their hearts rejoic'd that star to greet; And, trusting in their heavenly guide, It led them to the Saviour's feet.
Nor need we vainly envy them; Still shines within a Heavenly Light, Which, like the Star of Bethlehem, Would guide our onward course aright.
But if, when we that Light discern, We doubt its mission is divine, And from its guidance coldly turn, Can we expect it still to shine?
Those who thus venture to reject
What none too gratefully could prize, Too late may mourn that long neglect Has veil'd its glory from their eyes.
But they who, following on, adore The Giver of its guiding ray, Shall find it shine yet more and more, Unto the pure and perfect day.
BORNE by the tempest, on we sail
O'er ocean's billowy way; One glorious orb by day we hail, By night one faithful ray.
Thus God his undivided light
Pours on life's troubled wave;
Thus hope, meek star, through death's still night, Looks on the Christian's grave.
Monarch of heaven, Eternal One,
On thee our spirit calls;
To thee, as followers of thy Son, We consecrate these walls.
These arches, springing to the sky, This lightly swelling dome, That lifts to heaven its starry eye,- Be these, O God, thy home.
And wilt thou, Omnipresent, deign Within these walls to dwell?
Then shalt thou hear our holiest strain, Our organ's proudest swell.
Devotion's eye shall drink the light That richly gushes through Our simple dome of spotless white, From thine, of cloudless blue.
And Faith, and Penitence, and Love, And Gratitude, shall bend
To thee:-O hear them from above, Our Father and our Friend.
Low in the dim and sultry west Is the fierce sun of Syria's sky; The evening's grateful hour of rest, Its hour of feast and joy, is nigh. But he, with thirst and hunger spent, Lone, by the wayside faintly sinks; A lowly hand the cup hath lent,
And from the humble well he drinks.
On the dark wave of Galilee
The gloom of twilight gathers fast, And o'er the waters drearily Sweeps the bleak evening blast.
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