 | The Christian Seasons |  |
The lark that housed so low upon the ground
Is now aloft upon the summer skies,
Poising at rest on bosom of the air,
Himself unseen, or scarcely seen below;
Or from his fluttering wings pours forth on high
The very spirit of all thankfulness,
Ascending as he sings and singing soars:
The summer day, held captive by his strains,
Feels an unwonted peace it knows not whence.
Is now aloft upon the summer skies,
Poising at rest on bosom of the air,
Himself unseen, or scarcely seen below;
Or from his fluttering wings pours forth on high
The very spirit of all thankfulness,
Ascending as he sings and singing soars:
The summer day, held captive by his strains,
Feels an unwonted peace it knows not whence.
Meanwhile the higher as he sings to Heaven,
Still higher and more high on his sweet wing,
The deeper and more deep his image sinks
In the clear bosom of the lake below.
E'en so upon the wings of holy love
Whoe'er ascends toward Heaven, still as he mounts
His image by himself as seen below
Further from Heaven recedes, in rising he
In meekness must behold himself as one
In lower deeps, and less and less, until
He shall himself behold and know no more:—
Lost in the cheerful light of the pure Heavens,
Not seen by men, and who himself 'mong men
Sees not—no more below—but Heavenward borne,
He pours his thankful spirit all unseen.
Still higher and more high on his sweet wing,
The deeper and more deep his image sinks
In the clear bosom of the lake below.
E'en so upon the wings of holy love
Whoe'er ascends toward Heaven, still as he mounts
His image by himself as seen below
Further from Heaven recedes, in rising he
In meekness must behold himself as one
In lower deeps, and less and less, until
He shall himself behold and know no more:—
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Not seen by men, and who himself 'mong men
Sees not—no more below—but Heavenward borne,
He pours his thankful spirit all unseen.
Most blessed twofold vision; more and more
To see ourselves more low and small on earth,
And nearer God to sing in His own light,
To see our shame and sorrow, and His love!
To see ourselves more low and small on earth,
And nearer God to sing in His own light,
To see our shame and sorrow, and His love!
Yea, what is all, as we look down below,
Wherein we build our palaces of hope?
A poor, fictitious Heaven, as in the lake,
The shadow of the sky, unreal show,
And semblance of that joy which is above,
Fulness of light and freedom infinite.
Wherein we build our palaces of hope?
A poor, fictitious Heaven, as in the lake,
The shadow of the sky, unreal show,
And semblance of that joy which is above,
Fulness of light and freedom infinite.
Thus in the mighty mysteries of Heaven,
The man is lost who in repentance strives
To apprehend; as more and more he looks
Upon the face of Christ, and he himself
Is in the heavenly places, more of sin
In self-abasement conscious, he himself
Sees lower and still lower, less and less.
The man is lost who in repentance strives
To apprehend; as more and more he looks
Upon the face of Christ, and he himself
Is in the heavenly places, more of sin
In self-abasement conscious, he himself
Sees lower and still lower, less and less.
O blessed he who hath put on the yoke,
And meekly knows the rest which is in Christ,—
Rest for the weary spirit, rest and ease!
As one who doing all things is as one
Who doeth nothing; one who bears all things,
Yet bearing is as one who nothing bears;
And who possessing all things, is below
As one possessing nothing;—such sweet peace
Whose calm is e'en like holier innocence,
When that her heavy burden is released,
As love in sweet communion with her Lord
Hath bound the soul, that in His spotless flesh
Yearns to incorporate and lose herself,
And has a joy within, though sadness mix'd,
Such as the world knows not, and cannot know.
And meekly knows the rest which is in Christ,—
Rest for the weary spirit, rest and ease!
As one who doing all things is as one
Who doeth nothing; one who bears all things,
Yet bearing is as one who nothing bears;
And who possessing all things, is below
As one possessing nothing;—such sweet peace
Whose calm is e'en like holier innocence,
When that her heavy burden is released,
As love in sweet communion with her Lord
Hath bound the soul, that in His spotless flesh
Yearns to incorporate and lose herself,
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Such as the world knows not, and cannot know.
Like the sweet smile upon an infant's cheek,
Which something hath of an unearthly peace,
Because no sin nor sorrow lurks behind;
Yea, though awhile one pure translucent tear
Is yet upon its eyelids, ere that smile
Hath chased it from its place, as morning rays
The dew-drop, both together blend awhile,
Till love's bright beam hath kiss'd the dew away.
Such is the joy from Heaven the Spirit gives
Within the bosom of the penitent,
The child of God; he is within His arms,
Nor seeks without His aid to walk alone,
But lifted up, upheld, and led by Him
Drinks new delight, the air of life, and smiles,
Strengthen'd, supported, comforted, restored.
Which something hath of an unearthly peace,
Because no sin nor sorrow lurks behind;
Yea, though awhile one pure translucent tear
Is yet upon its eyelids, ere that smile
Hath chased it from its place, as morning rays
The dew-drop, both together blend awhile,
Till love's bright beam hath kiss'd the dew away.
Such is the joy from Heaven the Spirit gives
Within the bosom of the penitent,
The child of God; he is within His arms,
Nor seeks without His aid to walk alone,
But lifted up, upheld, and led by Him
Drinks new delight, the air of life, and smiles,
Strengthen'd, supported, comforted, restored.
To will alone that which is perfect good,
And willing to obtain it, this is Life,
This of the heart is perfect peace; and thus
It is with him who wills what God doth will.
And all things then are evil in so far
As they are hindrances to this one end;
And whatsoe'er doth too much please below
Impedes us from that true and perfect will
Which rests in God; its source, its means, its end;
The fountain, and the stream, and the great sea
To which it flows, is God; in Him alone
It rises, it continues, terminates,—
That disembodied from the things of sense
The soul may serve her God, in faith that sees
And love that apprehends what God doth love.
And willing to obtain it, this is Life,
This of the heart is perfect peace; and thus
It is with him who wills what God doth will.
And all things then are evil in so far
As they are hindrances to this one end;
And whatsoe'er doth too much please below
Impedes us from that true and perfect will
Which rests in God; its source, its means, its end;
The fountain, and the stream, and the great sea
To which it flows, is God; in Him alone
It rises, it continues, terminates,—
That disembodied from the things of sense
The soul may serve her God, in faith that sees
And love that apprehends what God doth love.
| The Christian Seasons | |