 | Miscellaneous Poems |  |
50
Invocation
Spirits of light and love, who pace around
The city's sapphire walls; whose stainless feet
Measure the gem-paved paths of sacred ground,
And trace the New Jerusalem's jasper street!
Ah you, whose overflowing hearts are crowned
With your best wishes; who enjoy the sweet
Of all your hopes; when next ye come before
My absent Lord, O say how I implore
From His reviving eye one look of kindness more.
The city's sapphire walls; whose stainless feet
Measure the gem-paved paths of sacred ground,
And trace the New Jerusalem's jasper street!
Ah you, whose overflowing hearts are crowned
With your best wishes; who enjoy the sweet
Of all your hopes; when next ye come before
My absent Lord, O say how I implore
From His reviving eye one look of kindness more.
Tell Him, O tell Him, how my widowed breast
Beneath the burden of His frown has pined:
Tell Him, O tell Him, how I lie oppressed
In all the tempest of a troubled mind.
O tell Him, tell Him, I can know no rest
Till He shall smile, as once, appeased and kind.
Tell Him, I think upon the vows he sware—
His love, His truth, His grace—and thus I dare
To come before Him now with penitence and prayer.
Beneath the burden of His frown has pined:
51
In all the tempest of a troubled mind.
O tell Him, tell Him, I can know no rest
Till He shall smile, as once, appeased and kind.
Tell Him, I think upon the vows he sware—
His love, His truth, His grace—and thus I dare
To come before Him now with penitence and prayer.
Say, the parched soil desires not so the shower
To quicken and refresh her embryo grain;
Say, the fallen crestlet of the drooping flower
Wooes not the bounty of the genial rain,
As my lorn spirit looks out for the hour
When her lost Lord shall visit her again.
Then, gentle spirits, should ye hear your lays,
And seem to melt, your best Hosannahs raise;
And with your heavenly notes sustain my feeble praise.
To quicken and refresh her embryo grain;
Say, the fallen crestlet of the drooping flower
Wooes not the bounty of the genial rain,
As my lorn spirit looks out for the hour
When her lost Lord shall visit her again.
Then, gentle spirits, should ye hear your lays,
And seem to melt, your best Hosannahs raise;
And with your heavenly notes sustain my feeble praise.
| Miscellaneous Poems | |