 | Benoni |  |
40
THE SHADOW OF DEATH.
Where is the God of holiness and glory,
The God of love and steadfast hope serene,
Whose grace still threads our earth's dark-woven story
With clear primæval tints of lucid green?
The God of love and steadfast hope serene,
Whose grace still threads our earth's dark-woven story
With clear primæval tints of lucid green?
Where is the peace that passeth understanding—
The blue deep shadow of eternity
Sleeping on godlike hearts—the sure up-standing
Of some calm islet in the wildest sea?
The blue deep shadow of eternity
Sleeping on godlike hearts—the sure up-standing
Of some calm islet in the wildest sea?
They do not come to us, though o'er us nightly
The holy moon makes Sabbath in the sky;
Though thro' the faint grey-blue for ever brightly
Unruffled morrows move with dewless eye:
The holy moon makes Sabbath in the sky;
Though thro' the faint grey-blue for ever brightly
Unruffled morrows move with dewless eye:
Yet, some divine significance reposes
In all we see without, or feel within:
Some secret vivid life, that ever closes
Its charmed essence to the touch of sin:
In all we see without, or feel within:
Some secret vivid life, that ever closes
Its charmed essence to the touch of sin:
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Some mellower flush in all the dawning splendour
Floats its sweet presence unto souls forgiven;
Some fragrant coolness, more intensely tender,
Dreams thro' the twilight o'er the child of Heaven;
Floats its sweet presence unto souls forgiven;
Some fragrant coolness, more intensely tender,
Dreams thro' the twilight o'er the child of Heaven;
Some spell lives in the Book of all the ages—
Deep truths arise and precious wisdoms start,
And hope and sunshine, from its pregnant pages,
Seen thro' the glistering dew-drops of the heart:
Deep truths arise and precious wisdoms start,
And hope and sunshine, from its pregnant pages,
Seen thro' the glistering dew-drops of the heart:
And each chance mood hath some unthought-of meanings,—
Some rippling voice all fitful thrills that stir
The soul's dark waters; scant yet worthy gleanings,
Making self-knowledge deeper unto her.
Some rippling voice all fitful thrills that stir
The soul's dark waters; scant yet worthy gleanings,
Making self-knowledge deeper unto her.
But wakes for us no clearer sound or crisper
Than Sin's dull moan, or Folly's dissonant cries;
Save when, at pauses, some dear mocking whisper
Creeps thro' the far-off range where hearing dies.
Than Sin's dull moan, or Folly's dissonant cries;
Save when, at pauses, some dear mocking whisper
Creeps thro' the far-off range where hearing dies.
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O Father, still them, these unhallowed noises!
Give us the inner grace that maketh whole;
That we may hear those holy mystic voices—
Twin gospels of the senses and the soul:
Give us the inner grace that maketh whole;
That we may hear those holy mystic voices—
Twin gospels of the senses and the soul:
That we may feel, the Eternal Spirit aiding,
Thy Bible's charm, and Nature's quiet arts;
And read, sun-traced in instant hues unfading,
The leaden landscape of our own strange hearts.
Thy Bible's charm, and Nature's quiet arts;
And read, sun-traced in instant hues unfading,
The leaden landscape of our own strange hearts.
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