For him the day no joyance brings: Its splendour on a world of woe: In vain, since Death her form pursues: Appals him ere his eye-lids close. To man a foe, he treads awhile Where rolls the wave or wafts the wind, Ah! whither, captive, dost thou roam? And wilt thou woo thine in-born guest, The phantom-idols of thy brain? E'en now beneath thee yawns the grave,- Yet, hark! amid the thunder's sound, That tells thee of a beacon-light That mocks the day, dispels the night,- From thence the living lustre flows. And oh! how changed those scenes of late To thy dim eyes so desolate: How bright those eyes once wrapt in gloom, How fair those vales' renascent bloom; Those transient forms that mocked the view, When clad in folly's tinsel hue, In new and borrowed splendour shine,"The hand that made them is Divine.' All nature feels the sweet control, In festal pomp the seasons roll, The star of morning smiles serene, And day with rapture crowns the scene; The lamp of heaven shall never die, And when in browner twilight fade Shall cheer the eve of parting Time, THERE IS A TONGUE IN EVERY LEAF. THERE is a tongue in every leaf! A voice in every rill! A voice that speaketh every where, In flood and fire, through earth and air; 'Tis the Great Spirit wide diffused I see Him in the blazing sun, I hear Him in the mighty roar When winds are raging loud. I feel Him in the silent dews, I feel Him in the gentle showers, The soft south wind, the breath of flowers, I see Him, hear Him, every where, THE BODY AND THE SOUL. WHAT is this body? fragile, frail, As vegetation's tenderest leaf;Transient as April's fitful gale, And as the flashing meteor brief. What is this soul? eternal mind, Unlimited as thought's vast range, By grovelling matter unconfined; The same, while states and empires change. When long this miserable frame Has vanished from life's busy scene, This earth shall roll, that sun shall flame, As though this dust had never been. When suns have waned, and worlds sublime Their final revolutions told, This soul shall triumph over time, As though such orbs had never rolled. HYMN TO THE CREATOR. FOR Thee, for Thee, my lyre I string, Through heaven's immeasurable ring; Thy throne, as Thou, all radiant, bearing Love's day-beains of benignity! Yet terrible is thine appearing To them who fear not Thee. Oh! what is mortal man, that he May hear thy heavenly temple ringing, With songs that heaven's own choirs are singing, And echo back the melody? My soul is wandering from its place; Mine eyes are lost amidst the space Where thousand suns are rolled through heaven, Suns waked by Thee from chaos' sleep; But with the thought my soul is driven Down to a trackless deep. VOL. II. 16 There was a moment ere thy plan Poured out time's stream of mortal glory; The bitter waters of affliction Distilling into dews of peace, And kindling heavenly benediction From earth's severe distress. Then did thine Omnipresent eye, Earth's million million wonders seeing, Track through the misty maze of being I, in those marvellous plans, though yet And Thou hadst marked my path, though lowly; E'en to my meanness Thou didst give Thy spirit-Thou-so high-so holy And I, thy creature, live. So, through this trembling ball of clay, And quiet peace attends my way. Though but an atom, formed by Thee; Up, then, my spirit! soar above This vale where mists of darkness gather, Up to the high eternal Father, For thou wert fashioned by his love. |