Sacred Meditations and Moral Themes In Verse By the Rev. Robert Montgomery ... Third Edition--Revised and Enlarged |
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 | Sacred Meditations and Moral Themes In Verse |  |
And now, behold yon Hebrew mother wends
Sadly and silently, to where the Nile
Winds among flags its fertile waters by.
Ark'd in a bulrush, there th' unconscious babe
Her trembling hand deposits, on the brink:
But to a daughter, as a watch unseen
Placed at a distance,—the forsaken child
Her fainting heart entrusts; and then returns
The mourning Rachel from that river-scene.
Sadly and silently, to where the Nile
Winds among flags its fertile waters by.
Ark'd in a bulrush, there th' unconscious babe
Her trembling hand deposits, on the brink:
But to a daughter, as a watch unseen
Placed at a distance,—the forsaken child
Her fainting heart entrusts; and then returns
The mourning Rachel from that river-scene.
169
And now, a syncopé to human sense
This hour appears, in all of God's high plans
The clouded eye of carnal reason views.
Helpless, beyond deserted life to know
In man or woman, 'mid the wildest haunts
And forest-homes by loneliness begirt,—
That infant lies, beside the churlish wave.
The Elements its only nurses make,
While the cold river rocks the tiny ark,
And roving Airs sing lullaby
Over its quiet slumber.—Yet, That Power
Who counts the sparrows, and the raven feeds,
And guides the wild bee to the summer flowers,
And feeds the insect,—yon mysterious babe
Is watching; and its sheltered life is safe
As when, hereafter, ranged the guarding Hosts
Of camping Israel round about his tent
At midnight, while the pilot Cloud of Heaven
Paused in pale fire, above the wilderness.—
But, little could sad Jochebed have dreamed
There in yon reedy couch reposed a child
Sublimely destined for a fearless work
Beyond all wonder:—lo! the Man
Who dared with Deity talk face to face,
And was not blasted by the dreadful beam!
Whose wand the secret thrones of Nature shook
By its almighty shadow; and whose life
One miracle of constant virtue made;
Whose death was mystery, and whose mountain-tomb
Is yet a secret, by Jehovah veiled
With darkness, most inscrutably profound.
This hour appears, in all of God's high plans
The clouded eye of carnal reason views.
Helpless, beyond deserted life to know
In man or woman, 'mid the wildest haunts
And forest-homes by loneliness begirt,—
That infant lies, beside the churlish wave.
The Elements its only nurses make,
While the cold river rocks the tiny ark,
And roving Airs sing lullaby
Over its quiet slumber.—Yet, That Power
Who counts the sparrows, and the raven feeds,
And guides the wild bee to the summer flowers,
And feeds the insect,—yon mysterious babe
Is watching; and its sheltered life is safe
As when, hereafter, ranged the guarding Hosts
Of camping Israel round about his tent
At midnight, while the pilot Cloud of Heaven
Paused in pale fire, above the wilderness.—
But, little could sad Jochebed have dreamed
There in yon reedy couch reposed a child
Sublimely destined for a fearless work
Beyond all wonder:—lo! the Man
Who dared with Deity talk face to face,
And was not blasted by the dreadful beam!
Whose wand the secret thrones of Nature shook
By its almighty shadow; and whose life
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Whose death was mystery, and whose mountain-tomb
Is yet a secret, by Jehovah veiled
With darkness, most inscrutably profound.
But chance exists not; 'tis a libel dread
On Providence, which those unblest of mind,
Poets of hell, and Laureates of despair,
Often pronounce,—who into merest fate
The motions of our moral world resolve.
For, God o'er all eternally presides;
And, from the quiver of the bladed grass,
To wheeling Systems hung in starry space,
Enormous as unnumbered,—all occurs
How, when, and where, His guiding will decrees:
And we, who now with backward gaze revolve
The hoary annals of Mosaic time,
Behind the curtain of that outer scene
Where man was acting view His Prompting Hand
At work for ever: History's moving form
Points like an index to that secret God;
E'en as the timepiece which the hour reveals,
The hidden motion of a main-spring shows.
On Providence, which those unblest of mind,
Poets of hell, and Laureates of despair,
Often pronounce,—who into merest fate
The motions of our moral world resolve.
For, God o'er all eternally presides;
And, from the quiver of the bladed grass,
To wheeling Systems hung in starry space,
Enormous as unnumbered,—all occurs
How, when, and where, His guiding will decrees:
And we, who now with backward gaze revolve
The hoary annals of Mosaic time,
Behind the curtain of that outer scene
Where man was acting view His Prompting Hand
At work for ever: History's moving form
Points like an index to that secret God;
E'en as the timepiece which the hour reveals,
The hidden motion of a main-spring shows.
Thus, when the Princess, from her silken bower
To bathe her beauties in the sacred Nile
Comes at this moment; and along the brink
Of that tree-shaded river, while the noon
Burns in hot trance, beneath the cooling palms
Walks with her maidens,—who can disbelieve
That, in the counsels of decretal Heaven
Hour, scene, and circumstance were all arranged,
Marshalled, and mustered?—though each agent felt
Freedom of will untouched, and unrestrained.
But, lo! at length the baby's ark is seen
Floating in flags, along the river's edge;
And when, obedient to the royal word,
Attending maidens have the lid removed,—
A sobbing infant greets her gentle eyes!
Celestial beauty on his forehead sat;
But the low wail, so helplessly that comes
From its frail bosom, touches all to tears,
Beyond the language of a pleading lip
To rival!—Instinct made a mother then:
And Pharaoh's daughter, while her feelings gushed
Pure, young, and warm from Nature's hallowed fount
High o'er all prudence, into pity's course,
Shook from her soul that edict of her sire,
That Slaughter should all Hebrew males destroy!
And to the mother, by unconscious love
And Heaven attracted,—took the rescued babe
For life and nurture; and thus home returned
The infant Moses to maternal arms;
And, like an angel of compassion, said,—
“Take the sweet child, and nurse it for my own!”
To bathe her beauties in the sacred Nile
171
Of that tree-shaded river, while the noon
Burns in hot trance, beneath the cooling palms
Walks with her maidens,—who can disbelieve
That, in the counsels of decretal Heaven
Hour, scene, and circumstance were all arranged,
Marshalled, and mustered?—though each agent felt
Freedom of will untouched, and unrestrained.
But, lo! at length the baby's ark is seen
Floating in flags, along the river's edge;
And when, obedient to the royal word,
Attending maidens have the lid removed,—
A sobbing infant greets her gentle eyes!
Celestial beauty on his forehead sat;
But the low wail, so helplessly that comes
From its frail bosom, touches all to tears,
Beyond the language of a pleading lip
To rival!—Instinct made a mother then:
And Pharaoh's daughter, while her feelings gushed
Pure, young, and warm from Nature's hallowed fount
High o'er all prudence, into pity's course,
Shook from her soul that edict of her sire,
That Slaughter should all Hebrew males destroy!
And to the mother, by unconscious love
And Heaven attracted,—took the rescued babe
For life and nurture; and thus home returned
The infant Moses to maternal arms;
172
“Take the sweet child, and nurse it for my own!”
Oh! Providence, how gloriously profound
In this and all things, are thy works and ways!
The Princess wandered, at the wonted hour,
Beside the river, in the Nile to bathe,
But, nothing more: yet, on her step there hinged
And hung, what destinies and deeds of time
Immortal! Then a spring she touched,
And set in motion Principles, and Powers,
While Change, and Consequence, she then involved,—
That round the Churches, at this living hour,
Act the full might of their commingled sway!
But, doth not Life, in its perpetual round,
Often to some familiar scene, or spot,
Link the vast crisis of experience now?
And, who that shuts his door, at primal morn,
The world to visit,—can presume to say,
On the first street he turns, or friend beholds,
How much of man's unutterable weal
Or wo dependeth! Ever on the brink
Of consequence, our perilled nature hangs
And borders, well may thoughtful bosoms feel:
But if, like Enoch, with our God we walk,
Each step we take but unto glory moves;
And all our changes, sudden, stern, or sad,
Not accidents of blank confusion born,
To us will come; but rather Faith will find
That life's experience is the Form decreed
Before all ages, where our tested mind
Must mould itself for happiness, and heaven.
In this and all things, are thy works and ways!
The Princess wandered, at the wonted hour,
Beside the river, in the Nile to bathe,
But, nothing more: yet, on her step there hinged
And hung, what destinies and deeds of time
Immortal! Then a spring she touched,
And set in motion Principles, and Powers,
While Change, and Consequence, she then involved,—
That round the Churches, at this living hour,
Act the full might of their commingled sway!
But, doth not Life, in its perpetual round,
Often to some familiar scene, or spot,
Link the vast crisis of experience now?
And, who that shuts his door, at primal morn,
The world to visit,—can presume to say,
On the first street he turns, or friend beholds,
How much of man's unutterable weal
Or wo dependeth! Ever on the brink
Of consequence, our perilled nature hangs
And borders, well may thoughtful bosoms feel:
But if, like Enoch, with our God we walk,
Each step we take but unto glory moves;
And all our changes, sudden, stern, or sad,
173
To us will come; but rather Faith will find
That life's experience is the Form decreed
Before all ages, where our tested mind
Must mould itself for happiness, and heaven.
But ere we part, from this affecting page
Of God's deep book of providence, to man
Oped in the Bible, most unwise it were
Not to remember, how the rescued child,
Snatched from a grave of waters,—soon became
Profound in science, learning, art, and skill,
In kingly halls, around great Pharaoh's throne,
Adopted like a son. But, Heaven preserved
True to itself his genuine soul, and kept
The fountains of kind nature pure and fresh
Within him welling: so that, blazing rank,
Nor pomp, nor riches could his heart withdraw
From fond alliances, by Feeling bound
Close to his bosom. Here, the Hebrew reigned!
For on the breastplate of his love he placed
His Country and Her cause; and thus defied
The thawing sunshine of a sensual court
The high-souled virtue of his peerless mind
E'er to dissolve. His People and their pangs
Had charms for him, beyond an Empire's dower
Or throne to rival: the reproach of Christ,—
Oh, there was grandeur in the grief it brought
And, o'er the shades of drear affliction's night
Rose the rich day-star of that promised heaven,
Where Godhead welcomes with rewarding bliss
All saints, and martyrs, who, like Mary, choose
That part sublime, beyond all worlds secure.
Of God's deep book of providence, to man
Oped in the Bible, most unwise it were
Not to remember, how the rescued child,
Snatched from a grave of waters,—soon became
Profound in science, learning, art, and skill,
In kingly halls, around great Pharaoh's throne,
Adopted like a son. But, Heaven preserved
True to itself his genuine soul, and kept
The fountains of kind nature pure and fresh
Within him welling: so that, blazing rank,
Nor pomp, nor riches could his heart withdraw
From fond alliances, by Feeling bound
Close to his bosom. Here, the Hebrew reigned!
For on the breastplate of his love he placed
His Country and Her cause; and thus defied
The thawing sunshine of a sensual court
The high-souled virtue of his peerless mind
E'er to dissolve. His People and their pangs
Had charms for him, beyond an Empire's dower
Or throne to rival: the reproach of Christ,—
174
And, o'er the shades of drear affliction's night
Rose the rich day-star of that promised heaven,
Where Godhead welcomes with rewarding bliss
All saints, and martyrs, who, like Mary, choose
That part sublime, beyond all worlds secure.
| Sacred Meditations and Moral Themes In Verse | |