The Poems of John Byrom Edited by Adolphus William Ward |
 | I. |
 | II. |
| I. |
| II. |
DIVINE LOVE, THE ESSENTIAL CHARACTERISTIC
OF TRUE RELIGION. |
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 | The Poems of John Byrom |  |
DIVINE LOVE, THE ESSENTIAL CHARACTERISTIC OF TRUE RELIGION.
416
I
Religion's Meaning when I would recall,Love is to me the plainest Word of all.
Plainest,—because that what I love, or hate,
Shews me directly my internal State;
By its own Consciousness is best defin'd
Which way the Heart within me stands inclin'd.
II
On what it lets its Inclination rest,To that its real Worship is address'd;
Whatever Forms or Ceremonies spring
From Custom's Force, there lies the real Thing;
Jew, Turk or Christian be the Lover's Name,
If same the Love, Religion is the same.
III
Of all Religions if we take a View,There is but one that ever can be true,—
417
All else is Idol, whatsoe'er it be,—
A Good that our Imaginations make,
Unless we love it purely for His Sake.
IV
Nothing but gross Idolatry aloneCan ever love it merely for its own.
It may be good, that is, may make appear
So much of God's One Goodness to be clear;
Thereby to raise a true, religious Soul
To Love of Him, the One Eternal Whole;—
V
The One Unbounded, Undivided Good,By all His Creatures partly understood.
If therefore Sense of its apparent Parts
Raise not His Love or Worship in our Hearts,
Our selfish Wills or Notions we may feast,
And have no more Religion than a Beast.
VI
For brutal Instinct can a Good embraceThat leaves behind it no reflecting Trace;
But thinking Man, whatever be his Theme,
Should worship Goodness in the Great Supreme;
By inward Faith, more sure than outward Sight,
Should eye the Source of all that's Good and Right.
VII
Religion, then, is Love's Celestial ForceThat penetrates thro' all to Its True Source;
418
As Creatures further the Divine Ascent,
Not to the Skies or Stars, but to the part
That will be always uppermost,—the Heart,
VIII
There is the Seat, as Holy Writings tell,Where the Most High Himself delights to dwell;
Whither attracting the desirous Will
To its true Rest, He saves it from all Ill,
Gives it to find in His Abyssal Love
An Heav'n within,—in other Words, Above.
| The Poems of John Byrom | |