Airs of Palestine, and other poems

We 'll give our bodies to the stream;
'T will bear us—(for the dead shall rise,
Or faith is vain, and hope a dream,)—
To happier shores and brighter skies.

[II. The winds are hushed;—the peaceful moon]

“And when they had sung a hymn, they went out into the Mount of Olives.”
—Matth. xxvi. 30.

The winds are hushed;—the peaceful moon
Looks down on Zion's hill;
The city sleeps; 't is night's calm noon;
And all the streets are still.

Save when, along the shaded walks,
We hear the watchman's call,
Or the guard's footstep, as he stalks
In moonlight on the wall.

How soft, how holy, is this light!
And hark! a mournful song,
As gentle as these dews of night,
Floats on the air along.

Affection's wish, devotion's prayer,
Are in that holy strain;
'T is resignation,—not despair;
'T is triumph,—though 't is pain.

105

'T is Jesus and his faithful few,
That pour that hymn of love;
O God! may we the song renew
Around thy board above.

[III. If it may be, O let this cup]

“O my Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me;
nevertheless, not as I will, but as thou wilt.”
—Matth. xxvi. 39.

“If it may be, O let this cup,
Pass by me,”—prayed the Son;
“But, if I 'm doomed to drink it up,
Father! thy will be done.”

He drank it. Bleeding on the tree,
He faintly cried, “I thirst.”
Then rose his heart, O God, to thee,
In fervent prayer,—and burst.

That broken heart, that ebbing tide,
That spirit so resigned,
These emblems of the Crucified,
Have now recalled to mind.

For others as our Saviour bled,
So we, at duty's call,
For others in his steps should tread,
And sacrifice our all.

106

Shall we from scenes of trial shrink,
Now our Example lives?
Or shall we all with patience drink
The cup our Father gives?

[IV. O'er Kedron's stream, and Salem's height]

O'er Kedron's stream, and Salem's height,
And Olivet's brown steep,
Rolls the majestic queen of night,
And showers from heaven her silver light,
And sees the world asleep.

All but the children of distress,
Of sorrow, grief, and care;
Whom sleep, though prayed for, will not bless;
These leave the couch of restlessness,
To breathe the cool, calm air.

For those who shun the glare of day,
There 's a composing power,
That meets them on their lonely way,
In the still air,—the sober ray
Of this religious hour.

'T is a religious hour; for he,
Who many a grief shall bear,
In his own body on the tree,
Is kneeling in Gethsemanè,
In agony and prayer.

107

O, holy Father! when the light
Of earthly joy grows dim,
May hope in Christ grow strong and bright,
In all who celebrate this rite
In memory of him.

[V. There's something sweet in scenes of gloom]

“And when they had sung a hymn, they went out into the Mount of Olives.”
—Matth. xxvi. 30.

There's something sweet in scenes of gloom
To hearts, of joy bereft;
When hope has withered in its bloom;
When friends are going to the tomb,
Or in the tomb are left.

'T is night, a lovely night;—and lo!
Like men in vision seen,
The Saviour and his brethren go,
Silent, and sorrowful, and slow,
Led by heaven's lamp serene,

From Salem's height, o'er Kedron's stream,
To Olivet's dark steep;
There, o'er past joys, so like a dream,
O'er future woes, that present seem,
In solitude to weep.

108

Heaven on their earthly hopes has frowned;
Their dream of thrones has fled;
The table that his love has crowned
They ne'er again shall sit around,
With Jesus at their head.

Blast not, O God, this hope of ours,
The hope of sins forgiven;
Then, when our friends the grave devours,
When all the world around us lowers,
We 'll look from earth to heaven.

[VI. Had Jesus left his scattered fold]

“For my flesh is meat indeed.”
—John vi. 55.

Had Jesus left his scattered fold
The legacy of pride,
Golconda's gems and Ophir's gold,
When he, their Shepherd, died;

Few would have hoarded many a gem,
Of those who shared them first;
And O, how many, even of them,
Had, in that gift, been cursed!

Had such a legacy been cast
Upon the stream of time;
Would it have come through ages past,—
Ages of night and crime?

109

And had it reached us all, should we
In such a boon be blessed?
O no;—a part might misers be,
And prodigals the rest.

But all may now a treasure hoard,
That ne'er engenders strife;
For we may all, around this board,
Partake the bread of life.

[VII. When Asia's mighty conqueror died]

“My blood is drink indeed.”
—John vi. 55.

When Asia's mighty conqueror died,
His followers shared his realm:
Yet, O how soon did ruin's tide
Them and their thrones o'erwhelm!

Had every monarch from his throne
By Jesus' arm been hurled;
Had he, the conqueror, held alone
The sceptre of the world;—

Had his Apostles shared the globe;
Had all the Orient gems,
That deck the royal Persian's robe,
Blazed on their diadems;—

110

Throned on the Egyptian's pyramid,
Old Time had seen their power
All crumble, as the Grecian's did,
And wither like a flower.

This Jesus knew; and, ere the thorns
Around his head were pressed,
The banquet which this board adorns
He spread for all, and blessed.

Then gave he gems of hope to shine
Around this goblet's brim;
Then dropped a pearl into this wine,—
The Memory of Him.

[VIII. Our Father! we approach thy board]

Our Father! we approach thy board,
As children, that would be forgiven;
Remembering him, thy Son, who poured
His blood, to seal our hope of heaven.

O God, our Saviour! while we thus
Remember him who made us free,
Who agonized and died for us,
Our grateful hearts would rise to thee.

111

In him, whose bursting heart the cloud
Of sorrow chilled, and wretchedness;
In him, whose fainting head was bowed
In his unspeakable distress;

O listen to our fervent prayer;
That he, who hung on Calvary's hill,
And gave thee back his spirit there,
May live in our affections still.

112

CHRISTMAS HYMN.

No moon hung o'er the sleeping earth,
But, on their thrones of light,
The stars, that sang ere morning's birth,
Filled the blue vault of night
With heavenly music;—earthly ears
Not often catch the hymn;
It was “the music of the spheres,”
The song of seraphim.

But there were those in Judah's land,
Who watched, that night, their fold,
Who heard the song of the angel band,
As o'er them was unrolled
The starry glory;—and there came
This burst of heavenly song,
From mellow tubes and lips of flame,
In chorus loud and long.

“To God be glory!—for, this day,
Hath shot, from Judah's stem,
A Branch, that ne'er shall know decay:—
The royal diadem

113

Shall grace the brows of one, whom ye
Shall in a manger find;
For, him hath God raised up to be
The Saviour of mankind.

“To God be glory! Peace on earth!
Glory to God again!
For, with this infant Saviour's birth,
There comes good will to men!”—
Good will to men! O God, we hail
This, of thy law the sum;
For, as this shall o'er earth prevail,
So shall thy kingdom come.

University of Virginia Library

I. HYMNS FOR THE LORD'S SUPPER AND CHRISTMAS.

HYMNS FOR COMMUNION.

[I. Break ye the bread, and pour the wine]