poems.
13
That bounds my vision! Soon the mist is pass'd;
Soon, oh soon, will death, which is the veil
That hides eternity, be drawn aside,
And then will perfect bliss and knowledge be
The gift of those who love Thee.
Glorious nature! Holy peace is here.
Sweet is the Sabbath's rest. Far brighter hues
Than e'er deck'd temples in the Eastern clime
When Solomon was king, now robe the sky.
Harmonies arise, and praise is heard,
By ear and spirit, richer than the notes
From stringed harps: a spiritual hymn
Ascends to heaven. The world's a temple
Reared by God's own hands. Our hearts awake
To ev'ry holy feeling. Nature calls
The spirit to devotion. Let us join
The universal anthem! Praise to Thee,
To Thee, O God of love, Thy grace inspires.
Oh, let no cloud of sin or care obscure
The sacred joy Thy presence now hath given;
Nor may my heart's submission prove as fleet
As yon exhalance of the morning's tears.
Soon, oh soon, will death, which is the veil
That hides eternity, be drawn aside,
And then will perfect bliss and knowledge be
The gift of those who love Thee.
Glorious nature! Holy peace is here.
Sweet is the Sabbath's rest. Far brighter hues
Than e'er deck'd temples in the Eastern clime
When Solomon was king, now robe the sky.
Harmonies arise, and praise is heard,
By ear and spirit, richer than the notes
From stringed harps: a spiritual hymn
Ascends to heaven. The world's a temple
Reared by God's own hands. Our hearts awake
To ev'ry holy feeling. Nature calls
The spirit to devotion. Let us join
The universal anthem! Praise to Thee,
To Thee, O God of love, Thy grace inspires.
Oh, let no cloud of sin or care obscure
The sacred joy Thy presence now hath given;
Nor may my heart's submission prove as fleet
As yon exhalance of the morning's tears.
