POEMS OF RELIGION. DARKNESS IS THINNING. DARKNESS is thinning; shadows are retreating: Morning and light are coming in their beauty. Suppliant seek we, with an earnest outcry, God the Almighty! So that our Master, having mercy on us, May repel languor, may bestow salvation, Granting us, Father, of Thy loving kindness Glory hereafter! This of His mercy, ever Blessed Godhead, Father, and Son, and Holy Spirit, give us— Whom through the wide world celebrate for ever Blessing and Glory! ST. GREGORY THE GREAT. (Latin.) Translation of JoHN MASON NEALE EARLY RISING AND PRAYER. WHEN first thy eyes unveil, give thy soul leave To do the like; our bodies but forerun The spirit's duty: true hearts spread and heave Unto their God as flowers do to the sun. Give Him thy first thoughts then, so shalt thou keep Him company all day, and in Him sleep. Yet never sleep the sun up, prayer should Dawn with the day; there are set awful hours 'Twixt heaven and us; the manna was not good After sun-rising; far-day sullies flowers. Rise to prevent the sun; sleep doth sins glut, And heaven's gate opens when the world's is shut. Walk with thy fellow-creatures: note the hush And whisperings among them. Not a spring Or leaf but hath his morning hymn; each bush And oak doth know I AM. Canst thou not sing? O, leave thy cares and follies! go this way, Serve God before the world; let Him not go Man's resurrection, and the future's bud, Shroud in their births; the crown of life, light, truth, Is styled their star-the stone and hidden food. Three blessings wait upon them, one of which Should move-they make us holy, happy, rich. When the world's up, and every swarm abroad, Keep well thy temper, mix not with each clay; Despatch necessities; life hath a load Which must be carried on, and safely may: Yet keep those cares without thee; let the heart Be God's alone, and choose the better part. HENRY VAUGHAN. THE SPIRIT-LAND. FATHER! Thy wonders do not singly stand, Nor far removed where feet have seldom strayed; Around us ever lies the enchanted land, And to our eyes the vision is denied; We wander in the country far remote, Mid tombs and ruined piles in death to dwell; Or on the records of past greatness dote, THE PHILOSOPHER'S DEVOTION. SING aloud! His praise rehearse, Who hath made the universe. He the boundless heavens has spread, All the vital orbs has kned; He that on Olympus high Tends His flock with watchful eye; And this eye has multiplied Midst each flock for to reside. Thus, as round about they stray, Toucheth each with outstretched ray: Nimbly they hold on their way, Shaping out their night and day. Never slack they; none respires, Dancing round their central fires. In due order as they move, Echoes sweet be gently drove Through heaven's vast hollowness, Which unto all comers pressMusic, that the heart of Jove Moves to joy and sportful love, Fills the listening sailor's ears, Riding on the wandering spheres. Neither speech nor language is Where their voice is not transmiss. God is good, is wise, is strongWitness all the creature-throngIs confessed by every tongue. All things back from whence they sprung, As the thankful rivers pay What they borrowed of the sea. Now, myself, I do resign; Take me whole, I all am Thine. Save me, God! from self-desire, Death's pit, dark hell's raging fire, Envy, hatred, vengeance, ire; Let not lust my soul bemire. Quit from these, Thy praise I'll sing, Loudly sweep the trembling string. Bear a part, O wisdom's sons, Freed from vain religions! Lo! from far I you salute, Sweetly warbling on my luteIndia, Egypt, Araby, Asia, Greece, and Tartary, Carmel-tracts and Lebanon, With the mountains of the moon, From whence muddy Nile doth run; Or, wherever else you won, Breathing in one vital air-One we are though distant far. Rise at once-let's sacrifice! Odors sweet perfume the skies. See how heavenly lightning fires Hearts inflamed with high aspires; All the substance of our souls Up in clouds of incense rolls! Leave we nothing to ourselves Save a voice-what need we else? And wholesome herbs are starved by weeds, Giving the tempest time to spend; To the wild woods I will be gone, And the coarse meals of great Saint John. When truth and piety are missed, And in the desert grows the rose. Hail, crystal fountains and fresh shades, When in the East the dawn doth blush, Here cool, fresh spirits the air brush; And hard by, shelters on some bough The truth, which once was plainly taught, O lead me where I may be free Give me the wisdom of the bee, And her unwearied industry! That from the wild gourds of these days, I may extract health, and Thy praise |