Page:Scenes and Hymns of Life.pdf/40

Even unto death?

Lilian.No, sister, nor yet these.—
Too much of dreamy love, of faint regret,
Of passionately fond remembrance, breathes
In the caressing sweetness of their tones,
For one who dies:—They would but woo me back
To glowing life with those Arcadian sounds—
And vainly, vainly—No! a loftier strain,
A deeper music!—Something that may bear
The spirit up on slow yet mighty wings,
Unsway'd by gusts of earth: something, all fill'd
With solemn adoration, tearful prayer.—
Sing me that antique strain which once I deem'd
Almost too sternly simple, too austere
In its grave majesty! I love it now—
Now it seems fraught with holiest power, to hush
All billows of the soul, e'en like His voice
That said of old—"Be still!"—Sing me that strain—
"The Saviour's dying hour."