O Man divine!-on Thee our souls have hung,
Thou wert our teacher in these questions high,
But ah! this day divides Thee from our side,
And veils in dust Thy kindly guiding eye.
Where is that CHARMER, whom thou bid'st us seek?
On what far shores may His sweet voice be heard?
When shall these questions of our yearning souls
Be answered by the bright Eternal Word?
So spake the youth of Athens, weeping round
When Socrates lay calmly down to die;
So spake the sage, prophetic of the hour
When earth's fair Morning Star should rise on high.
They found Him not, those youths of soul divine, Long seeking, wandering, watching on life's shoreReasoning, aspiring, yearning for the light,
Death came and found them-doubting as before.
But years passed on-and lo! the CHARMER came—
Pure, silent, sweet, as comes the silver dew,-
And the world knew him not-he walked alone-
Encircled only by his trusting few.
Like the Athenian sage rejected, scorned,
Betrayed, condemned, his day of doom drew nigh, He drew his faithful few more closely round, And told them that his hour was come to die.
"Let not your heart be troubled," then He said; My father's house hath mansions large and fair;
I go before you to prepare your place;
I will return to take you with me there.
And since that hour the awful Foe is charmed, And life and death are glorified and fair. Whither He went we know-the way we know— And with firm step press on to meet Him there.
FTER our child's untroubled breath
Up to the Father took its way,
And on our home the shade of death
Like a long twilight haunting lay,
And friends came round with us to weep
Her little spirit's swift remove,
This story of the Alpine sheep
Was told to us by one we love :-
They, in the valley's sheltering care,
Soon crop the meadow's tender prime,
And when the sod grows brown and bare,
The shepherd strives to make them climb,
"To airy shelves of pastures green,
That hang along the mountain's side,
Where grass and flowers together lean,
And down through mist the sunbeams slide.
"But naught can tempt the timid things
That steep and rugged path to try,
Though sweet the shepherd calls and sings,
And seared below the pastures lie,-
"Till in his arms their lambs he takes,
Along the dizzy verge to go,
Then, heedless of the lifts and breaks,
They follow on o'er rocks and snow.
"And in those pastures lifted fair,
More dewy soft than lowland mead,
The shepherd drops his tender care,
And sheep and lambs together feed."
This parable, by nature breathed,
Biew on me as the south-wind free
O'er frozen brooks that float unsheathed
From icy thraldom to the sea.
A blissful vision through the night
Would all my happy senses sway,
Of the good shepherd on the height,
Or climbing up the stony way.
Holding our little lamb asleep;
And, like the burden of the sea,
Sounded that voice along the deep,
Saying, "Arise, and follow me."
EDWARD HENRY BICKErsteth.
'OR we were on our way to meet our God,
Children about to see their Father's face. . But at last
It seem'd as rising from the sapphire throne
Messiah led us forth at large to view
The city Himself had builded and prepared
After His Father's counsel for His Bride,
A city, or a temple, or a home,
Or rather all in one. Enrich'd it was
With every exquisite design of love,
And every form of beauty. Not a film
Stain'd its bright pavement of transparent gold;
Not a harsh murmur vex'd its silences,
Or with the melodies of angels jarr'd.
No cloud darken'd its empyrean. Joy
Held court here in its own metropolis.
And through the midst the crystal river flow'd
Exhaustless from the everlasting throne,
Shaded on either side by trees of life
Which yielded in unwearying interchange
Their ripe vicissitude of monthly fruits.
Amid their clustering leaves medicinal;
Of fruits twelve manner: for eternity,
Measured by ages limitless to man,.
Has intervals and periods of bliss
And high recurring festivals that stand
On the sidereal calends mark'd in light.
Through these celestial groves the Lamb of God
Led us delighted. Every sight and sound
Ravish'd the sense: and every loving heart
Reflected joy to joy and light to light,
Like crystals in a cave flashing with fire,
And multiplied our bliss a million-fold.
O blessed royal priesthood! priests and kings
Under the Great High Priest and Prince of Peace,
Who now in tender grace assign'd to each
His priestly abode within the House of God
(So Solomon around his temple built
The chambers for its stated ministries),
Where each might be alone with God, or mix
In converse with his fellow-saints at will,
Adorn'd with those peculiar gifts He knew,
Who knows us better than we know ourselves,
Would gratify those tastes and feelings most
Himself had planted: delicate delights;
If little, loving from their littleness,
Which nought but Love could ever have devised;
If rich and large, more precious from the love
That gave them than from excellence or cost;
The bounties of a Father's thoughtfulness,
The tokens of the Bridegroom's tenderness.
Gifts of the Spirit and with His love instinct.
ET me go where saints are going,
To the mansions of the blest:
Let me go where my Redeemer
Has prepared His people's rest.
I would gain the realms of brightness,
Where they dwell for evermore;
I would join the friends that wait me,
Over on the other shore.
|