The Poetical Works of Robert Montgomery :: :: University of Virginia Library

Beauteous words! with glory burning,
Guide and guardian of our days,
Let us be for ever learning
Wisdom from their wealth to raise:
In them hides a heavenly power
Which may hallow scene and hour,
Touching all we hear, or see,
With soft rays of Deity!

He who call'd us into being,
Each created for some plan;
And, by prescience all foreseeing,
So equipp'd the soul of man,
That unless the sleepless Mind
Love itself in all mankind,
Whatsoe'er bright scenes present,—
Dark life grows a discontent.

Yet, apart from Revelation,
Wisdom no true motive found,
That with perfect inspiration
Could for all alike abound:
Pleasure, gain, or mental force,
Palms which crown Ambition's course,—
Sages found some lofty name,
Thus to fix the final aim.

But, where exists in heathen story
Bard, or sage, who could descry
Such a path for peaceful glory
While we live, or when we die,
As this text of heaven-breathed truth
Here unfolds for age and youth,—
“Whatsoe'er ye think, or do,
Be your God the goal in view!”

'Twas Thine own celestial motive,
Lord, when Thou on earth didst live;
So, with spirit pure and votive
Let us vow ourselves to give
Back to Thee!—in woe or weal,
Let our lives be one long zeal
Never from Thy Church to roam,
Faith's delight, and Feeling's home!

None can reach a blissful centre
Where the reas'ning mind can rest,
Save by fellowship they enter
On the pathway God hath blest:
Great and glorious as may seem
All which gilds an earth-born dream,
Self can frame no heaven for sin,
But it works a hell within!

Blest is he who thus resigneth
Soul and body unto Him,
From Whose words whoe'er declineth,
Martyr, saint, or seraphim,
Must in darkness, death, and woe,
Downward to perdition go,
Reaping from self-will a curse,
That would fire the universe.

Sons of Heaven! be this your glory,
Christ as motive so to feel,
That life nor death shall set before ye
What can daunt, or dim your zeal:
Rich, or poor, or small, or great,
Nought to you is outward state:
God and grace within you dwell,
And your mercies who can tell?

Happy, happy is the feeling,
Life belongs to Him who died,
By atonement thus revealing
Love incarnate, crucified.
Duty, danger, toil, and time,
Now are touch'd by truth sublime;
All we have to faith appears,
Sacred to His blood and tears.

With such motive deeply glowing,
Sin and self we learn to shun,
So on heaven our hearts bestowing,
That the angel seems begun;
While more purely we can pray,
And our creed of glory say,
“Thou art worthy! Thou alone!
Be our hearts Thy hallow'd throne!”

Needs no rank, nor wealth, nor learning,
When our sainted wills incline
With a passion ever burning
To pursue the path divine:
Humble care and cottage-scene
To the Lord's elect have been
Little Edens, where they found
Angels camping all around!

Though thy station be but lowly,
Christ is there, the soul to bless;
Though thou seem'st forgotten wholly,
Left to toil in loneliness,
Eyes through heaven are peering down,
In thy cross to see thy crown:—
Let thy task in prayer be done,
And thy glories are begun!

Tell me not, in gloom and anguish,
Lone and needy thou art left;
Faith can ne'er for duty languish,
Love and Hope are not bereft,

If thy soul can truly say,
At the close of each calm day,
“Father! do Thy gracious will,
Let my life Thy law fulfil!”

Hast thou cheer'd the broken-hearted
With a look of genial love?
As the dying breath departed
Didst thou point to worlds above?
Hast thou sought the peasant's door,
Soothed the sick, or cheer'd the poor,
Lighted up the widow's eye,
Or relieved an orphan's sigh?

Fameless, then, though Earth deny thee
Wealth and grandeur, power and place,
More than worlds could e'er supply thee
'Tis to love the human race!
Like some instrument of sound
Changing with all airs around,
Hearts of heaven can sympathise
With whate'er a spirit tries.

Read we then in hallow'd story
With a swell of wordless joy,
Duty forms divinest glory,
When our lives for God employ
Feeling, faculty, and power,
Home and heart, and scene and hour,
As one sacrifice of soul,
Due to Him who gave the whole!