 | The school of the heart and other poems |  |
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XXII. WRITTEN ON THE DAY OF GENERAL THANKSGIVING,
April 14, 1833.
Surely, methinks, this Sabbath morn
Some brighter sunshine should adorn
Than Heaven vouchsafes on common days;
And buds should burst, and all the throng
Of busy warblers crowd their song
To help the race of man to praise.
Some brighter sunshine should adorn
Than Heaven vouchsafes on common days;
And buds should burst, and all the throng
Of busy warblers crowd their song
To help the race of man to praise.
But on its birth no sun hath shined;
Ever the deep voice of the wind
Sweepeth the tree-tops far and near:
And on the branches not a bird
As on past morning-tides, is heard,
But all is winter-bound and drear.
Ever the deep voice of the wind
Sweepeth the tree-tops far and near:
And on the branches not a bird
As on past morning-tides, is heard,
But all is winter-bound and drear.
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Yet this ungladsome sky may teach
A lesson, and these winds may preach
A sermon in the nation's ear;
And souls not all unapt to learn
Some dim forebodings may discern
Of new disquietude and fear.
A lesson, and these winds may preach
A sermon in the nation's ear;
And souls not all unapt to learn
Some dim forebodings may discern
Of new disquietude and fear.
Great God, with trembling we rejoice;
The echo of thy warning voice
Yet vibrates in the middle air:
Not yet thy glittering sword of death
Is peaceful laid within its sheath,
Ready to strike, as now to spare.
The echo of thy warning voice
Yet vibrates in the middle air:
Not yet thy glittering sword of death
Is peaceful laid within its sheath,
Ready to strike, as now to spare.
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