The Gospel Miracles In A Series of Poetical Sketches: With Illustrative Conversations. By Richard Mant |
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THE SUNDAY MORNING'S WALK. |
 | The Gospel Miracles |  |
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THE SUNDAY MORNING'S WALK.
'Twas morning when I walk'd abroad, the day which God hath blest,
When on the world its Maker calls to keep his holy rest:
The spirit of the time I felt; and nature seem'd to say,
It was the day of God's delight, his works' thanksgiving day.
When on the world its Maker calls to keep his holy rest:
The spirit of the time I felt; and nature seem'd to say,
It was the day of God's delight, his works' thanksgiving day.
My pathway thro' the garden led: the bees in nature's prime
Lurk'd in the apple's clustering bloom, and suck'd the scented thyme:
And as with humming sound to cull their morning meal they flew,
The hum appear'd a morning hymn to God their Maker due.
Lurk'd in the apple's clustering bloom, and suck'd the scented thyme:
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The hum appear'd a morning hymn to God their Maker due.
My pathway led along the coombe, the woodland, and the hill;
And every bird of every wing was singing sweet and shrill:
The throstle caroll'd in the bush, the skylark from the air;
They seem'd as if they all would fain their Maker's love declare.
And every bird of every wing was singing sweet and shrill:
The throstle caroll'd in the bush, the skylark from the air;
They seem'd as if they all would fain their Maker's love declare.
My path along the hedge-row lay, the tangled copse among:
The violet spread its snow-white breast, its head the hare-bell hung:
Their hues so fair, their soft array, their fresh and fragrant smell,
All seem'd without the aid of speech the Maker's praise to tell.
The violet spread its snow-white breast, its head the hare-bell hung:
Their hues so fair, their soft array, their fresh and fragrant smell,
All seem'd without the aid of speech the Maker's praise to tell.
My path-way lay along the meads, with babbling runnels fed,
Where bleating flocks and lowing herds were o'er the pasture spread:
And bleating flock and lowing herd, which crop'd the verdant food,
With babbling runnels seem'd to join, and speak their Maker good.
Where bleating flocks and lowing herds were o'er the pasture spread:
And bleating flock and lowing herd, which crop'd the verdant food,
With babbling runnels seem'd to join, and speak their Maker good.
Along the corn-fields lay my path: the promis'd harvest's pride
The hollow of the valleys fill'd, and cloth'd the mountain's side:
And, as it bow'd and wav'd its head, brush'd by the zephyr's wing,
In honour of the harvest's Lord it seem'd to laugh and sing.
The hollow of the valleys fill'd, and cloth'd the mountain's side:
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In honour of the harvest's Lord it seem'd to laugh and sing.
Along the strand my path-way led, the salt sea-shore beside,
Where from his throne the sun look'd down, and lit the golden tide:
And as the billows danc'd and shone, beneath his sparkling rays,
They seem'd to clap their hands for joy, and shout the Maker's praise.
Where from his throne the sun look'd down, and lit the golden tide:
And as the billows danc'd and shone, beneath his sparkling rays,
They seem'd to clap their hands for joy, and shout the Maker's praise.
My path led onward to the church: what things were present there?
Sounds of exceeding great delight? a scene surpassing fair?
There those who bore a living soul, with reason's stamp imprest,
And tongues to speak articulate the yearnings of the breast;
Sounds of exceeding great delight? a scene surpassing fair?
There those who bore a living soul, with reason's stamp imprest,
And tongues to speak articulate the yearnings of the breast;
Alas, to their salvation's Rock tho' call'd to shout and sing,
And with the voice of triumph praise the everlasting King,
Back from the heart-enlivening strain with listless silence hung,
As if a door confin'd their lips, and chains withheld their tongue.
And with the voice of triumph praise the everlasting King,
Back from the heart-enlivening strain with listless silence hung,
As if a door confin'd their lips, and chains withheld their tongue.
Not thus the Church would fain of old the pealing anthem swell,
One feeble voice uprais'd the mute assembly's joy to tell;
But rich and poor, the young and old, the peasant and the sage,
Of every quality combin'd, each sex, and every age,
One feeble voice uprais'd the mute assembly's joy to tell;
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Of every quality combin'd, each sex, and every age,
Their psalms and hymns and holy songs like mighty thunders roll'd,
While rapture, which the spirit felt, the tongue spontaneous told;
Pour'd forth the song of thanksgiving till all the temple rang,
And like the voice of many floods their Hallelujahs sang.
While rapture, which the spirit felt, the tongue spontaneous told;
Pour'd forth the song of thanksgiving till all the temple rang,
And like the voice of many floods their Hallelujahs sang.
Such sounds the sons of God pour forth, one spirit and one voice,
Where round the throne the Cherubim and Seraphim rejoice:
Ten thousand times ten thousand there awake the sacred song,
And thousand thousands numberless the Hosannas loud prolong.
Where round the throne the Cherubim and Seraphim rejoice:
Ten thousand times ten thousand there awake the sacred song,
And thousand thousands numberless the Hosannas loud prolong.
And shall such sounds in heav'n be heard from God's celestial train,
No voice exempt, no tongue but joins the gratulating strain:
And do not sounds like these, the sounds of holy, heartfelt, mirth,
The candidates for heavenly joys befit, the sons of earth?
No voice exempt, no tongue but joins the gratulating strain:
And do not sounds like these, the sounds of holy, heartfelt, mirth,
The candidates for heavenly joys befit, the sons of earth?
O, are there those who when the name of God their voice requires,
To sing his glory in the words which God himselfinspires,
With cold indifference sit them down, nor deign the voice to raise,
Nor move the tongue, nor ope the lip, to sing their Maker's praise:
To sing his glory in the words which God himselfinspires,
With cold indifference sit them down, nor deign the voice to raise,
Nor move the tongue, nor ope the lip, to sing their Maker's praise:
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Tho' prompt the live-long hour to wake notes of the tuneful art,
Which win the crowd's enamour'd ear, but speak not to the heart;
To trill the light, the meaningless, perchance the guilty strain,
The libertine's seductive lay, the sceptick's rhime profane?
Which win the crowd's enamour'd ear, but speak not to the heart;
To trill the light, the meaningless, perchance the guilty strain,
The libertine's seductive lay, the sceptick's rhime profane?
Shame, shame on such! a wiser way and worthier may they learn,
Not from the seraph hosts alone, who round God's altar burn,
But from the meaner things of God, which never cease to shew
His love, as best they may, by whom they live, and move, and grow.
Not from the seraph hosts alone, who round God's altar burn,
But from the meaner things of God, which never cease to shew
His love, as best they may, by whom they live, and move, and grow.
The herd, the flock, the warbled song of birds, the humming bee,
The scented flow'r, the running brook, the bright and billowy sea,
In feeling's ear their pow'rs of praise employ, as best they can,
And all the sullenness reprove of dull unthankful man.
The scented flow'r, the running brook, the bright and billowy sea,
In feeling's ear their pow'rs of praise employ, as best they can,
And all the sullenness reprove of dull unthankful man.
Lord, grant me grace the pow'rs thou giv'st, how weak soe'er they be,
Well pleas'd, to proffer as most due, in celebrating Thee!
'Tis Thou hast form'd the thinking soul, and Thou the speaking voice:
In what, if not in Thee, O Lord, should soul and speech rejoice?
Well pleas'd, to proffer as most due, in celebrating Thee!
'Tis Thou hast form'd the thinking soul, and Thou the speaking voice:
In what, if not in Thee, O Lord, should soul and speech rejoice?
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Thy works all praise Thee! noblest work of thine, bid man arise,
And in the general chorus join of earth, and sea, and skies!
Rude tho' it be, the artless psalm with Thee acceptance finds,
Pour'd forth from good and honest hearts, from meek and willing minds.
And in the general chorus join of earth, and sea, and skies!
Rude tho' it be, the artless psalm with Thee acceptance finds,
Pour'd forth from good and honest hearts, from meek and willing minds.
“Lord God Almighty, King of saints,” who only can'st of right
The blessing and the honour claim, the glory, and the might;
Tho' none can praise Thee worthily, yet who shall stint thy praise?
For “great and marvellous thy works, and just and true thy ways!”
The blessing and the honour claim, the glory, and the might;
Tho' none can praise Thee worthily, yet who shall stint thy praise?
For “great and marvellous thy works, and just and true thy ways!”
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