Poems and Songs By Robert Gilfillan. Fourth edition. With memoir of the author, and appendix of his latest pieces |
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STANZAS. WRITTEN AMONG THE RUINS OF A VILLAGE CHURCH. |
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 | Poems and Songs |  |
305
STANZAS. WRITTEN AMONG THE RUINS OF A VILLAGE CHURCH.
Behold! the roofless Village Church,
With tower and turrets riven;
This is the house of God no more,
No more the gate of Heaven!
With tower and turrets riven;
This is the house of God no more,
No more the gate of Heaven!
Its altars fallen, in ruins lie,
Its walls grow to decay;
Its very burial mounds are gone,
Its monuments away!
Its walls grow to decay;
Its very burial mounds are gone,
Its monuments away!
Dread Time! how mighty is thy strength,
Thy power what can outbrave!
When thus we mark thy ravages
On the enduring grave!
Thy power what can outbrave!
When thus we mark thy ravages
On the enduring grave!
306
What time the Sabbath morn comes round,
The week's sad toilings o'er,
We see the train of villagers
Assemble here no more!
The week's sad toilings o'er,
We see the train of villagers
Assemble here no more!
The voice of psalms and joyfulness,
Of prayer—when hearts did bow—
The worship, and the worshippers,
Alas! where are they now!
Of prayer—when hearts did bow—
The worship, and the worshippers,
Alas! where are they now!
Lo! in the dark and silent tomb,
The voiceless throng is there;
None weeps for them, none weeps for thee,
Thou lonely house of prayer!
The voiceless throng is there;
None weeps for them, none weeps for thee,
Thou lonely house of prayer!
But could those prison doors of death
Be opened unto day,
Where sleep the countless multitudes
Of ages passed away:
Be opened unto day,
Where sleep the countless multitudes
Of ages passed away:
Then would a numerous band come forth
And claim a kindred here,
And mourn to see thy mouldering walls,
That naked thus appear!
And claim a kindred here,
And mourn to see thy mouldering walls,
That naked thus appear!
307
The hollow winds sweep through the court,
Where wild the nettle grows;
And there the owl has found a home
Where heavenly songs arose!
Where wild the nettle grows;
And there the owl has found a home
Where heavenly songs arose!
Even now, methinks, I hear a strain
Come from those aisles so dim;
And thus the viewless Choristers
Chant forth their solemn hymn:
Come from those aisles so dim;
And thus the viewless Choristers
Chant forth their solemn hymn:
“Time's things they change! Time's sons they die,
And time is on the wing,
That shortly to a final close
All earthly pomp shall bring!
And time is on the wing,
That shortly to a final close
All earthly pomp shall bring!
“The changes of a changing world,
Behold them every where;
Then, mortal, lift thy soul to heaven,
Nor death, nor change, is there.”
Behold them every where;
Then, mortal, lift thy soul to heaven,
Nor death, nor change, is there.”
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