Poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

Our mortal eyes are all too dim
To see Heaven's countless seraphim
Encamp'd Christ's Church around;
Our mortal ears too dull to hear
Angelic voices, close and clear,
But in Earth's uproar drown'd.

II

We know not what bright myriads stand
Invisible, but near at hand,
To guard our narrow way;—
What banners o'er us are unfurl'd,—
How weak is he who rules the world
To Him whom we obey!

III

And so a timorous war we wage,
And plod through life's dull pilgrimage
With laggard steps and slow;
Beset by perils dark and drear,
Trouble and toil, and doubt and fear,
And ever varying woe.

IV

Yet moments, few and brief, have been
When faith's enfranchised eye hath seen
Beyond this mortal night;—
When some strong effort of the heart
Hath rent Earth's shadowy veil apart,
And brought all Heaven in sight.

V

First of the martyrs!—thus to thee
'Twas given thy Saviour's self to see
At God's right hand reveal'd;
Whom once beheld, what marvel thou
With patient cheer and stedfast brow
Thy saintly soul shouldst yield?

VI

But we!—our eyes are dark with sin,—
Mists, rising from foul depths within,
Their else keen vision blind;
And so in vain we struggle still
With sluggish heart, and slavish will,
And gross and sensual mind.

VII

Lord! on our darkling spirits shine
With those refulgent beams of thine,
Which kindle faith and love;
That we thy presence may discern,
And so, through earth's afflictions, learn
To win our crown above.

FROM THE GOSPEL.

I

A beauteous world is this of ours,
Though dimm'd by sin's polluting stain;
The earth looks bright with fruits and flowers,
The skies with shifting sun and rain:
The air is fresh with fragrant scent,
And many a pleasant voice and sound
Tells sweetly of deep-felt content
In homes where peace and love abound.

II

Who would not say, if this were all,
“The temple of God's love is here;
Gleams of his brightest glory fall
From Heaven upon this favour'd sphere”?
And yet—behold the lightning's path—
The blazing roof, the blasted tree—
The tokens of avenging wrath—
Plague, famine, death, and misery!

III

Alas! from this, our beauteous earth,
The cry of guilt to God hath risen;
The world, which smiled on Adam's birth,
Is now his sinful offspring's prison.
There's not a green and flowery vale,
There's not a pleasant grove or dell,
But has its own peculiar tale
Of agony and crime to tell.

IV

And yet o'er all our deeds of shame,—
Of hate and vengeance, wrath and lust,—
Of plunder'd cities wrapt in flame—
Of towers and temples ground to dust,—
Of maids' and matrons' foulest wrong—
Of ruin'd hearth and reeking sod,—
One cry arises, loud and long,—
The death-cry of the saints of God!

V

The earth has drunk their gentle blood,
And closed above their scatter'd bones;
Rock, hill, and cavern, vale, and wood,
Have echoed back their dying groans.

In dungeons dark, in tortures dire,
By axe and fagot, stone and sword,
In whelming floods, in scorching fire,
Their lives they yielded for their Lord.

VI

Through woods and wilds, o'er pathless rocks,
They roam'd to shun the rage of men;
They found a shelter with the fox,
They dared the hungry lion's den;
They sought and shared the raven's food,
They slept beside the eagle's nest;
By human hatred still pursued,
And only in the grave at rest.

VII

And years and ages wax and wane,—
But that fierce hate is quenchless still;
And martyrs toil and bleed in vain
To free mankind from grief and ill.
The thirst of Cain for Abel's blood,
The hate that slew the Lord of heaven,
Still persecute the wise and good—
Those sole offenders ne'er forgiven!

VIII

And shall not God avenge his own?
—Look up—in all the louring sky
The tokens of his wrath are shown—
He will avenge them speedily.
For ruthless deeds of days long past,
For saintly blood like water shed,
Those gathering clouds shall burst at last,
Ere many another age hath fled.

IX

The curse deferr'd at length draws nigh,
Our guilty world beneath it shakes;

It blights the earth, it blasts the sky,
All flesh before its advent quakes.
All human faces gather gloom,
Fear hideth in the hearts of kings;—
O Lord, protect thy Church from doom,
Beneath thy mercy's sheltering wings.