Glory to God, in highest Heaven, Good-will to men, and peace on earth, To us a Saviour-king is given;Our God is come to claim His own, And Satan's power is overthrown!
A sinless God, for sinful men, Descends to suffer and to bleed;Hell MUST renounce its empire then;The price is paid, the world is freed, And Satan's self must now confess That Christ has earned a RIGHT to bless:
Now holy Peace may smile from heaven, And heavenly Truth from earth shall spring:
The captive's galling bonds are riven, For our Redeemer is our king;And He that gave his blood for men Will lead us home to God again.
STANZAS.
Oh, weep not, love! each tear that springs In those dear eyes of thine, To me a keener suffering brings Than if they flowed from mine.
And do not droop! however drear The fate awaiting thee;For MY sake combat pain and care, And cherish life for me!
I do not fear thy love will fail;Thy faith is true, I know;But, oh, my love! thy strength is frail For such a life of woe.
Were 't not for this, I well could trace (Though banished long from thee)
Life's rugged path, and boldly face The storms that threaten me.
Fear not for me--I've steeled my mind Sorrow and strife to greet;Joy with my love I leave behind, Care with my friends I meet.
A mother's sad reproachful eye, A father's scowling brow--
But he may frown and she may sigh:
I will not break my vow!
I love my mother, I revere My sire, but fear not me--
Believe that Death alone can tear This faithful heart from thee.
IF THIS BE ALL.
O God! if this indeed be all That Life can show to me;If on my aching brow may fall No freshening dew from Thee;If with no brighter light than this The lamp of hope may glow, And I may only dream of bliss, And wake to weary woe;If friendship's solace must decay, When other joys are gone, And love must keep so far away, While I go wandering on,--
Wandering and toiling without gain, The slave of others' will, With constant care, and frequent pain, Despised, forgotten still;Grieving to look on vice and sin, Yet powerless to quell The silent current from within, The outward torrent's swell While all the good I would impart, The feelings I would share, Are driven backward to my heart, And turned to wormwood there;If clouds must EVER keep from sight The glories of the Sun, And I must suffer Winter's blight, Ere Summer is begun;If Life must be so full of care, Then call me soon to thee;Or give me strength enough to bear My load of misery.
MEMORY.
Brightly the sun of summer shone Green fields and waving woods upon, And soft winds wandered by;Above, a sky of purest blue, Around, bright flowers of loveliest hue, Allured the gazer's eye.
But what were all these charms to me, When one sweet breath of memory Came gently wafting by?
I closed my eyes against the day, And called my willing soul away, From earth, and air, and sky;That I might simply fancy there One little flower--a primrose fair, Just opening into sight;As in the days of infancy, An opening primrose seemed to me A source of strange delight.
Sweet Memory! ever smile on me;Nature's chief beauties spring from thee;Oh, still thy tribute bring Still make the golden crocus shine Among the flowers the most divine, The glory of the spring.
Still in the wallflower's fragrance dwell;And hover round the slight bluebell, My childhood's darling flower.
Smile on the little daisy still, The buttercup's bright goblet fill With all thy former power.
For ever hang thy dreamy spell Round mountain star and heather bell, And do not pass away From sparkling frost, or wreathed snow, And whisper when the wild winds blow, Or rippling waters play.
Is childhood, then, so all divine?
Or Memory, is the glory thine, That haloes thus the past?
Not ALL divine; its pangs of grief (Although, perchance, their stay be brief)
Are bitter while they last.
Nor is the glory all thine own, For on our earliest joys alone That holy light is cast.
With such a ray, no spell of thine Can make our later pleasures shine, Though long ago they passed.
TO COWPER.
Sweet are thy strains, celestial Bard;And oft, in childhood's years, I've read them o'er and o'er again, With floods of silent tears.
The language of my inmost heart I traced in every line;MY sins, MY sorrows, hopes, and fears, Were there-and only mine.
All for myself the sigh would swell, The tear of anguish start;I little knew what wilder woe Had filled the Poet's heart.
I did not know the nights of gloom, The days of misery;The long, long years of dark despair, That crushed and tortured thee.
But they are gone; from earth at length Thy gentle soul is pass'd, And in the bosom of its God Has found its home at last.
It must be so, if God is love, And answers fervent prayer;Then surely thou shalt dwell on high, And I may meet thee there.
Is He the source of every good, The spring of purity?
Then in thine hours of deepest woe, Thy God was still with thee.
How else, when every hope was fled, Couldst thou so fondly cling To holy things and help men?
And how so sweetly sing, Of things that God alone could teach?
And whence that purity, That hatred of all sinful ways--
That gentle charity?
Are THESE the symptoms of a heart Of heavenly grace bereft--
For ever banished from its God, To Satan's fury left?
Yet, should thy darkest fears be true, If Heaven be so severe, That such a soul as thine is lost,--
Oh! how shall I appear?
THE DOUBTER'S PRAYER.
Eternal Power, of earth and air!
Unseen, yet seen in all around, Remote, but dwelling everywhere, Though silent, heard in every sound;If e'er thine ear in mercy bent, When wretched mortals cried to Thee, And if, indeed, Thy Son was sent, To save lost sinners such as me:
Then hear me now, while kneeling here, I lift to thee my heart and eye, And all my soul ascends in prayer, OH, GIVE ME--GIVE ME FAITH! I cry.
Without some glimmering in my heart, I could not raise this fervent prayer;But, oh! a stronger light impart, And in Thy mercy fix it there.
While Faith is with me, I am blest;It turns my darkest night to day;But while I clasp it to my breast, I often feel it slide away.
