Poems (David)/What is Man?
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WHAT IS MAN?
SEARCH while ye may, vain and presumptuous man,
Thy life alone, one short, and broken span.
There is no pleasure, yet the world's alloy
Steps in to mar thy purest, holiest joy!
Cast round thine eyes, the starry Heavens survey,
And dost no sign of God thine eyes repay?
Sweeps on its even course, each stellar world,
In seeming vast confusion toss'd and hurl'd;
Like the fierce fires, which quenchless ever rest,
Deep down in Hecla's great primeval breast.
Each hath its orbit traced: God's mighty Hand
Their every course and slightest rule hath plann'd.
Untrodden worlds, whose fiery locks out-stream,
To man's wondering eyes, their sickly beam;
Lost, for a time, in blue Heaven's ariel deep,
Mid unknown planets they revolving sweep.
Thro' the vast realms of space th' ether light,
Dispersed by them still, as vapour bright,
Like wintr'y sun, when o'er the barren down;
And flame tinted ocean, that seems to frown
In those rough crested waves, which o'er its face
Leap to the shingled shore in 1dle grace.
And when the sinking sun, a weary dip,
His red throne midst deep, the passing ship
Doth seem to sail athwart his ruby breast,
Till ebon-veil'd darkness around her rest!
Thy number'd hairs, and wondrous frame, the care
Of Him, thy Master, every limb doth bear;—
Thy treasured eyes, a ray of Heavenly light,
Lo! at His Word could close in endless night;—
The tropic sand, parch'd waste, the smiling vale,
God's Hand doth bless, the mountain or the dale.
Man's noblest works, in dust or ruin lies;
In his proudest halls the lone owlet cries!
Thou shadow! thy poor mind would fondly clasp
That which unfathomed lies beyond thy grasp.
Pause, presumptuous babbler l—there is between,
Immeasureable gulfs, too vast, I ween,
E'er with thy feeble human brain to span.
*********
Beware, lest, Moses like, thou see'st the land,
Beset by doubts and fears on either hand:
Behold, now lost to ye for evermore,
The fair home thou could'st have won on Heav'n's shore.
Like a prisoner, bending 'neath the rod,
Meet face to face thy deep offended God!
Oh! see'st thou not the "Infinite" didst place
In secret, hidden from thy wondering face,
Much that is destined from thyself to lie;
Unfitted for thy frail and mortal eye?
Oh! can'st thou count the grains of yellow sand,
That weaves a golden belt around the land?
Can'st thou, from its vast depths, the ocean drain?—
Of other years, draw forth the wrecks again?
Ephem'ral one! limit not Him who made
Thou, and thy world!—The mighty Hand that gave
To thee perfection, and perfection's crown:
Thy first great sin brought sorrow quickly down!
What is thy God?—A Spirit, that doth move—
An unseen Being, whose Almighty Love
Thro' all Eternity, in His own power
Has past;—a breath; a vision as of flowers—
Pure, undefiled, in Paradise that bloom
Amidst the gardens of the blest so soon.—
As their Earth's mission done, to our dull eye,
Beneath the wintry winds they fade and die.
Not so they rise, in glories fresh and true,
Far, far beyond the star realms, and the blue
Untrodden cloud-land, and to bloom again,
Mid happy souls released from worldly pain.
Oh! fair flowers, ye are footsteps surely, made
By Angels o'er the world our Master gave,
As beauteous samples of His mighty Hand!—
That could by "Word" a world's foundation plan.
There is a gulf, an abyss, vast, unseen,
Some lives, and actions, e'en some thoughts be- tween.
Alas! one so foul, and one oft so pure,—
'Tis curious that each should thus endure;
Sever'd, yet bound, as by some magic spell,
The pure and tarnished oft together dwell.
Inscrutable the great occult laws which bind
The natural living soul to all mankind
And, amidst the worst we yet sometimes see
Some element still trailing, wild and free,
That marks the impress of some fallen soul,
Whose form debased, as long years did roll,
Still shows how high each aspiration rose,
Only, alas! to sink 'midst fear and woe!
When science oft her bright glittering wing
Shines out, and casts o'er each forbidden thing
The golden halo of many a rainbow dream,
That e'en with its fair and brilliant gleam,
Leads on!—and, yet, alas, but to deceive,
Like the bright fires that at the dewy eve
Flies o'er the mossy fen with flick'ring ray,
The lone traveller only leads astray.
Oh! Thou great Inscrutable, who didst plan
Each link and bond that gives to mortal man
The power of thought supreme, the form Divine,—
Once his glorious image form'd to shine!
Oh! Heaven-born gift, thou mak'st our feeble brain
Start and recoil;—and yet we seize again,
Each sever'd link and portion of the chain.
Hail Powers Divine! to Thee indeed be given
The perfect praise of nature and of Heav'n.
Man, fallen man, shall tune his varied tongue,
And thus, by each Thy holy praise be sung;
All Thy glorious works must pass away,
Thy truth and justice ne'er shall know decay!
Thy life alone, one short, and broken span.
There is no pleasure, yet the world's alloy
Steps in to mar thy purest, holiest joy!
Cast round thine eyes, the starry Heavens survey,
And dost no sign of God thine eyes repay?
Sweeps on its even course, each stellar world,
In seeming vast confusion toss'd and hurl'd;
Like the fierce fires, which quenchless ever rest,
Deep down in Hecla's great primeval breast.
Each hath its orbit traced: God's mighty Hand
Their every course and slightest rule hath plann'd.
Untrodden worlds, whose fiery locks out-stream,
To man's wondering eyes, their sickly beam;
Lost, for a time, in blue Heaven's ariel deep,
Mid unknown planets they revolving sweep.
Thro' the vast realms of space th' ether light,
Dispersed by them still, as vapour bright,
Like wintr'y sun, when o'er the barren down;
And flame tinted ocean, that seems to frown
In those rough crested waves, which o'er its face
Leap to the shingled shore in 1dle grace.
And when the sinking sun, a weary dip,
His red throne midst deep, the passing ship
Doth seem to sail athwart his ruby breast,
Till ebon-veil'd darkness around her rest!
Thy number'd hairs, and wondrous frame, the care
Of Him, thy Master, every limb doth bear;—
Thy treasured eyes, a ray of Heavenly light,
Lo! at His Word could close in endless night;—
The tropic sand, parch'd waste, the smiling vale,
God's Hand doth bless, the mountain or the dale.
Man's noblest works, in dust or ruin lies;
In his proudest halls the lone owlet cries!
Thou shadow! thy poor mind would fondly clasp
That which unfathomed lies beyond thy grasp.
Pause, presumptuous babbler l—there is between,
Immeasureable gulfs, too vast, I ween,
E'er with thy feeble human brain to span.
*********
Beware, lest, Moses like, thou see'st the land,
Beset by doubts and fears on either hand:
Behold, now lost to ye for evermore,
The fair home thou could'st have won on Heav'n's shore.
Like a prisoner, bending 'neath the rod,
Meet face to face thy deep offended God!
Oh! see'st thou not the "Infinite" didst place
In secret, hidden from thy wondering face,
Much that is destined from thyself to lie;
Unfitted for thy frail and mortal eye?
Oh! can'st thou count the grains of yellow sand,
That weaves a golden belt around the land?
Can'st thou, from its vast depths, the ocean drain?—
Of other years, draw forth the wrecks again?
Ephem'ral one! limit not Him who made
Thou, and thy world!—The mighty Hand that gave
To thee perfection, and perfection's crown:
Thy first great sin brought sorrow quickly down!
What is thy God?—A Spirit, that doth move—
An unseen Being, whose Almighty Love
Thro' all Eternity, in His own power
Has past;—a breath; a vision as of flowers—
Pure, undefiled, in Paradise that bloom
Amidst the gardens of the blest so soon.—
As their Earth's mission done, to our dull eye,
Beneath the wintry winds they fade and die.
Not so they rise, in glories fresh and true,
Far, far beyond the star realms, and the blue
Untrodden cloud-land, and to bloom again,
Mid happy souls released from worldly pain.
Oh! fair flowers, ye are footsteps surely, made
By Angels o'er the world our Master gave,
As beauteous samples of His mighty Hand!—
That could by "Word" a world's foundation plan.
There is a gulf, an abyss, vast, unseen,
Some lives, and actions, e'en some thoughts be- tween.
Alas! one so foul, and one oft so pure,—
'Tis curious that each should thus endure;
Sever'd, yet bound, as by some magic spell,
The pure and tarnished oft together dwell.
Inscrutable the great occult laws which bind
The natural living soul to all mankind
And, amidst the worst we yet sometimes see
Some element still trailing, wild and free,
That marks the impress of some fallen soul,
Whose form debased, as long years did roll,
Still shows how high each aspiration rose,
Only, alas! to sink 'midst fear and woe!
When science oft her bright glittering wing
Shines out, and casts o'er each forbidden thing
The golden halo of many a rainbow dream,
That e'en with its fair and brilliant gleam,
Leads on!—and, yet, alas, but to deceive,
Like the bright fires that at the dewy eve
Flies o'er the mossy fen with flick'ring ray,
The lone traveller only leads astray.
Oh! Thou great Inscrutable, who didst plan
Each link and bond that gives to mortal man
The power of thought supreme, the form Divine,—
Once his glorious image form'd to shine!
Oh! Heaven-born gift, thou mak'st our feeble brain
Start and recoil;—and yet we seize again,
Each sever'd link and portion of the chain.
Hail Powers Divine! to Thee indeed be given
The perfect praise of nature and of Heav'n.
Man, fallen man, shall tune his varied tongue,
And thus, by each Thy holy praise be sung;
All Thy glorious works must pass away,
Thy truth and justice ne'er shall know decay!