The Legend of the Golden Prayers and other poems By C. F. Alexander |
 |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
|
LOOKING UP TO HEAVEN.
|
|
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
 | The Legend of the Golden Prayers and other poems |  |
170
LOOKING UP TO HEAVEN.
The sun sinks o'er the western sea
And o'er the trackless plain,
Where the good Bishop wearily
Leads on his scanty train;
And o'er the trackless plain,
Where the good Bishop wearily
Leads on his scanty train;
The moon fades from the brow of night,
Dark broods the lonely hour,
No passing gleam of social light
Shines out from hall and bower;
Dark broods the lonely hour,
No passing gleam of social light
Shines out from hall and bower;
Such gleam as dear old England sees
From the closed casement far
At even, through her tall dark trees;
The peasant's polar star;
From the closed casement far
At even, through her tall dark trees;
The peasant's polar star;
171
Which, wearied with his long day's toil,
He greeteth far away;
Christ's labourer tills a harder soil—
Hath he no cheering ray?
He greeteth far away;
Christ's labourer tills a harder soil—
Hath he no cheering ray?
Yes, wanderer, look, to heaven's blue height
The Southern Cross ascends,
And, bathing all thy path in light,
Thine “own Triangle” bends.
The Southern Cross ascends,
And, bathing all thy path in light,
Thine “own Triangle” bends.
Sweet stars, there lies a gentle lore
In Nature's shadowings,
And we may find in her full store
The types of holier things.
In Nature's shadowings,
And we may find in her full store
The types of holier things.
God's holy Church, mysterious still,
Wends on, from age to age,
Through this dark world of strife and ill,
Her lonely pilgrimage;
Wends on, from age to age,
Through this dark world of strife and ill,
Her lonely pilgrimage;
And darkness meets her on the wold,
And frowns the gathering foe,
And hearts are false, and love is cold,
And even faith burns low:
And frowns the gathering foe,
And hearts are false, and love is cold,
And even faith burns low:
172
Because we look not up on high
Where waves the red cross wide,
Nor think how He who died to save,
Still guards His mystic Bride;
Where waves the red cross wide,
Nor think how He who died to save,
Still guards His mystic Bride;
Because we have no hearts to see
Bright, as in days of old,
The presence of the Eternal Three
Within her sacred fold.
Bright, as in days of old,
The presence of the Eternal Three
Within her sacred fold.
And thou to whom thy Lord has given
The crozier and the key,
And bade thee tend the Bride of Heaven,
Girt by that southern sea,
The crozier and the key,
And bade thee tend the Bride of Heaven,
Girt by that southern sea,
What though cold-hearted Christians fear,
What though the heathen frown,
Though all the waste be wild and drear,
And sun and moon go down,
What though the heathen frown,
Though all the waste be wild and drear,
And sun and moon go down,
Yet shalt thou lay Redemption's sign
On many a savage brow,
And many a rudely sacred shrine
Shalt to the Triune vow;
On many a savage brow,
And many a rudely sacred shrine
Shalt to the Triune vow;
173
And hope on them and peace be pour'd,
Who see thy face no more,—
The exile labouring for his Lord
Upon that heathen shore!
Who see thy face no more,—
The exile labouring for his Lord
Upon that heathen shore!
| The Legend of the Golden Prayers and other poems | |