Of love itself! Then much of heaven is felt
By minds drawn thitherward and closely linked In the celestial union: 'tis in this
Sweet element alone that we can live
To any purpose, or expect our minds
Clothed with that covering which alone prepares For social worship. Therefore mourns my soul In secret, and like one amidst the vast
And widely peopled earth, would seek to hide Myself and sorrows from the motley crowd Of human observation. But oh, Thou! Whose bowels of compassion never fail Towards the creatures fashioned by thy hands, Reanimate the dead, and give to those Who never felt thy presence in their souls, Nor saw thy beauty, both to see and feel That Thou art lovely, and thy presence life! Restore the wanderer and support the weak With thy sustaining arm, for strength is thine! And oh! preserve this tempest-beaten bark From sinking in the wave whose swelling surge Threatens to overwhelm. Forsake her not, But be her pilot, though no sun or star Appear amid the gloom; for if a ray
From thy all-cheering presence light her course, She rides the storm secure, and in due time Will reach her destined port and be at peace.
REFLECTIONS UPON HEARING THAT E. B. HAD PUBLICLY RIDICULED THE MANNER OF "FRIENDS" ASSEMBLING
TO PERFORM SILENT WORSHIP TO GOD, SAYING, THAT THERE WAS NO SUCH THING.
HAS the man ere stood upon
The mountain's brow, and looked around him On the face of nature, and not felt even in the Inmost chambers of his soul, a deep communing And a silence there: even as of a spirit
Wondering within itself, wondering at its own being? The quick eye tracing with a fond delight The hill, the woodland, and the flowing stream, The humble domicile, the peasant's lot;
Its tiny garden, and its fruitful fields; The lordly palace and its gay adjuncts; The mountain's craggy steeps, its rocks, Gray with the tempests of a thousand years, Its fretted channels and its fissured walls,
Its bounding torrents and eternal springs.
Say, has he e'er communed with nature there And never felt that strange mysterious tie That hidden link deep seated in the soul Connecting his frail being with a God?
And then silent and passive been before the Lord? Him the Creator! God of the whole earth!
Ruler of spirits!-No silent worship?
This his declaration? Then has he never Wrapt the Prophet's mantle round him.
Never has he sat like one of old within The sheltering rock, when the wild war Of elementary strife was rife around him. When the Earthquake's shock, shook even Such solid resting place, and the upheaving Earth poured forth from out its centre Fire and water, and the up-riven rocks, Were scattered round, even as the shell Tossed by the billowy main. Never has He sat beneath the o'ershadowing rock When the Tornado's might was round about. When the tall pine, and lofty cedar boughs, Were dashed to earth, and laid upon its bed, The hoary monarchs of past centuries growth, Cut down as the green grass, and fragile herb, With the sharp scythe, by a strong mower's arm. Never has he sat where the wild fire-light flashed Upon his eye. When heard no more the thunder's
Groaning peal, no more its echoes heard among The hills, no more the lightning's glare quick Glancing round terrific. But one sheet-one Broad, bold sheet of flame, ascending from Earth to heaven, and consuming all left
From the Tornado's flight, and Earthquake's shock. No silent worship? then never has he known How the frail, finite powers of man, can Lean on God his maker. How he can wrap The mantle of a quiet spirit round him, and Shut out from the dim vision of a mortal sense, The strife of principles at war. Bowed to earth Within the cave. Upon the rock of ages; Resting there, the world shut out, the world No more in view. Ah! what is worship? Shall I come before the Lord, with the rich offering Of a thousand lambs? Thousands of goats upon The mountains roam; are they not his? Say, Shall I offer these? Or rivers of pure oil? What gifts of value shall I bring within thy Courts? How shall I worship thee?
Be still! so spake the prophet-bard, Be still before me earth and all ye islands Hear!-hear, that ye may obey. Be still,
That ye may hear. And while attentive, listening For the voice of God, know, that ye worship him. And having first learned stillness, learned to hear,
Then know to act.-And he who knows not
Silent worship, ne'er will know to walk with
God and listen to his words. I envy not the man However learned, or high, or rich, or great, who can deride, The Prophet's lesson, and this august faith.
With me there have been moments When ocean, with its everlasting tones, has Called to solemn silence. Not when alone The tempest on the wild wings of the wind, Swept over its surface. When the rude North, with his legions, lashed its proud Billows into fury, giving the frail bark
To its mountain waves, not then not then. Nor when seated upon its shores, dreaming Of o'erwhelmed argosies of wealth:
Of buried gold, deep, in its dim unfathomable
World of hidden pearls, and gems of priceless
Worth; of untold millions in its coral caves;
Not then not then. Nor when upon Imagination's wings borne far aloft,
Boldly to scan man's high imperial sway
On earth-in air-deemed that the waters too Would yet be subject. The charmed sea
With all its bright inhabitants be his.
His the small minnow. of the running stream;
His the leviathan of the stormy deep.
Teach him, as the wild colt is taught, to know the rein,
And as the war-horse, curb him to the will.
« AnteriorContinuar » |