And every thought that wrong'd thy truth
Fell like a blight upon thy youth:
Thou shouldst have been, for thy distress,
Less pure, and oh! more passionless;
For sorrow's wasting mildew gave
Thy beauty to my sister's grave.
But all thy griefs, my girl! are o'er,-
Thy fair blue eyes shall weep no more;
"Tis sweet to know thy fragile form
Lies safe from every future storm:
Oft as I haunt the dreary gloom
That gathers round the peaceful tomb,
I love to see the lightning stream
Along thy stone, with fitful gleam,
To fancy in each flash are given
Thy spirit's visitings from heaven;
And smile-to hear the tempest rave
Above my sister's quiet grave!
My God, I love and I adore!
But souls that love would know thee more.
Wilt thou for ever hide, and stand
Behind the labours of thy hand?
Thy hand, unseen, sustains the poles
On which this huge creation rolls:
The starry arch proclaims thy power,
Thy pencil glows in every flower:
In thousand shapes and colours rise
Thy painted wonders to our eyes;
While beasts and birds with labouring throats
Teach us a God in thousand notes.
The meanest pin in Nature's frame
Marks out some letter of thy name.
Where sense can reach or fancy rove,
From hill to hill, from field to grove,
Across the waves, around the sky,
There's not a spot, or deep or high,
Where the Creator has not trod,
And left the footstep of a God.
But are his footsteps all that we,
Poor grovelling worms, must know or see?
Thou maker of my vital frame!
Unveil thy face, pronounce thy name,
Shine to my sight, and let the ear
Which thou hast form'd the language hear.
Where is thy residence? Oh! why
Dost thou avoid my searching eye,
My longing sense? Thou Great Unknown,
Say, do the clouds conceal thy throne?
Divide, ye clouds, and let me see
The Power that gives me leave to be.
Or, art thou all diffused abroad
Through boundless space, a present God,
Unseen, unheard, yet ever near!
What shall I do to find thee here?
Is there not some mysterious art
To feel thy presence at my heart?
To hear thy whispers soft and kind,
In holy silence of the mind?
Then rest my thoughts; nor longer roam
In quest of joy, for Heaven's at home.
But, oh! thy beams of warmest love;
Sure they were made for worlds above.
How shall my soul her powers extend,
Beyond where Time and Nature end,
To reach those heights, thy best abode,
And meet thy kindest smiles, my God?
What shall I do? I wait thy call;
Pronounce the word, my life, my all.
Oh, for a wing to bear me far
Beyond the golden morning star!
Fain would I trace th' immortal way
That leads to courts of endless day,
Where the Creator stands confess'd,
In his own fairest glories dress'd.
Some shining spirit help me rise,
Come, waft a stranger through the skies;
Bless'd Jesus, meet me on the road,
First offspring of th' Eternal God!
Thy hand shall lead a younger son,
Clothe me with vestures yet unknown,
And place me near my Father's throne.
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