If a star were confined into a tomb,
Her captive flame must needs burn there;
But when the hand that locked her up gave room,
She'd shine through all the sphere.
O Father of eternal life, and all
Created glories under Thee!
Resume thy spirit from this world of thrall
Either disperse these mists, which blot and fill
My perspective still as they pass;
Or else remove me hence unto that hill,
Where I shall need no glass.
Bright shadows of true rest! some shoots of bliss!
Heaven once a week;
The next world's gladness prepossessed in this;
A day to seek
Eternity in time; the steps by which
We climb above all ages; lamps that light
Man through his heap of dark days; and the rich
And full redemption of the whole week's flight:
The pulleys unto headlong man; time's bower;
Transplanted paradise; God's walking hour;
The cool o' the day;
The creature's jubilee; God's parle with dust;
Heaven here; man on those hills of myrrh, of flowers;
Angels descending; the returns of trust;
A gleam of glory after six days' showers;
The Church's love-feasts; time's prerogative
And interest
Deducted from the whole; the combs and hive,
And home of rest;
The milky-way chalked out with suns; a clue
That guides through erring hours, and in full story;
A taste of heaven on earth; the pledge and cue
Of a full feast, and the out-courts of glory.
Still young and fine! but what is still in view
We slight as old and soiled, though fresh and new:
How bright wert thou when Shem's admiring eye
Thy burning flaming arch did first descry;
When Nahor, Terah, Haran, Abram, Lot,
The youthful world's gray fathers in one knot,
Did with intentive looks watch every hour
For thy new light, and trembled at each shower.
When thou dost shine darkness looks white and fair,
Forms turn to music, clouds to smiles and air;
Rain gently spends his honey drops, and pours
Balm on the cleft earth, milk on grass and flowers.
Bright pledge of peace and sunshine! the sure tie
Of thy Lord's hand, the object of his eye!
When I behold thee, though my light be dim,
Distant and low, I can in thine see Him,
Who looks upon thee from his glorious throne,
And minds the covenant betwixt all and one.
COME, Oh! come, with sacred lays,
Let us sound the Almighty's praise;
Hither bring in true consent,
Heart and voice, and instrument.
Let the orpharion sweet,
With the harp and viol meet :
your voices tune the lute :
Let not tongue nor string be mute :
Not a creature dumb be found,
That hath either voice or sound.
Let such things as do not live,
In still music praises give ;
Lowly pipe, ye worms that creep
On the earth or in the deep;
Loud aloft your voices strain,
Beasts and monsters of the main ;
Birds, your warbling treble sing ;
Clouds, your peals of thunder ring;
Sun and moon exalted higher,
And you stars, augment the quire.
Come, ye sons of human race,
In this chorus take your place,
And amid this mortal throng,
Be you masters of the song.
Angels and celestial powers,
Be the noblest tenor yours.
Let in praise of God the sound,
Run a never-ending round,
That our holy hymn may be
Everlasting as is He.
From the earth's vast hollow womb,
Music's deepest base shall come.
Sea and floods from shore to shore
Shall the counter-tenor roar.
To this concert, when we sing,
Whistling winds, your descant bring :
Which may bear the sound above
Where the orb of fire doth move,
And so climb from sphere to sphere,
Till our song the Almighty hear.
So shall He from heaven's high tower
On the earth his blessing shower;
All this huge wide orb we see,
Shall one quire, one temple be;
There our voices we will rear,
Till we fill it everywhere:
And enforce the fiends that dwell
In the air, to sink to hell.
Then, oh! come, with sacred lays,
Let us sound the Almighty's praise.
AWAKE, my soul! awake, mine eyes!
Awake, my drowsy faculties !
Awake, and see the new-born light
Spring from the darksome womb of night!
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