 | Airs of Palestine, and other poems |  |
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III.
HYMNS FOR DEDICATION.
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[I. O Thou, to whom in ancient time]
[_]
Written for the Opening of the Independent Congregational Church in Barton Square, Salem, December 7th, 1824.
O Thou, to whom in ancient time
The lyre of Hebrew bards was strung,
Whom kings adored in song sublime,
And prophets praised with glowing tongue,—
The lyre of Hebrew bards was strung,
Whom kings adored in song sublime,
And prophets praised with glowing tongue,—
Not now on Zion's height, alone,
Thy favored worshipper may dwell;
Nor where, at sultry noon, thy Son
Sat, weary, by the Patriarch's well.
Thy favored worshipper may dwell;
Nor where, at sultry noon, thy Son
Sat, weary, by the Patriarch's well.
From every place below the skies,
The grateful song, the fervent prayer,—
The incense of the heart,—may rise
To Heaven, and find acceptance there.
The grateful song, the fervent prayer,—
The incense of the heart,—may rise
To Heaven, and find acceptance there.
In this, thy house, whose doors we now
For social worship first unfold,
To thee the suppliant throng shall bow,
While circling years on years are rolled.
For social worship first unfold,
To thee the suppliant throng shall bow,
While circling years on years are rolled.
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To thee shall Age, with snowy hair,
And Strength and Beauty, bend the knee,
And Childhood lisp, with reverent air,
Its praises and its prayers to Thee.
And Strength and Beauty, bend the knee,
And Childhood lisp, with reverent air,
Its praises and its prayers to Thee.
O thou, to whom in ancient time
The lyre of prophet bards was strung,
To thee, at last, in every clime
Shall temples rise, and praise be sung.
The lyre of prophet bards was strung,
To thee, at last, in every clime
Shall temples rise, and praise be sung.
[II. With trump, and pipe, and viol chords]
With trump, and pipe, and viol chords,
And song, the full assembly brings
Its tribute to the Lord of lords,
Its homage to the King of kings.
And song, the full assembly brings
Its tribute to the Lord of lords,
Its homage to the King of kings.
To God, who, from the rocky prison
Where death had bound him, brought his Son,
To God these walls from earth have risen;—
To God, “the high and lofty One.”
Where death had bound him, brought his Son,
To God these walls from earth have risen;—
To God, “the high and lofty One.”
Creator! at whose steadfast word
Alike the years and oceans roll,
Here may thy truth in Christ, our Lord,
Shine forth and sanctify the soul.
Alike the years and oceans roll,
Here may thy truth in Christ, our Lord,
Shine forth and sanctify the soul.
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Here, where we hymn thy praises now,
Father and Judge! may many a knee
And many a spirit humbly bow,
In worship and in prayer to thee.
Father and Judge! may many a knee
And many a spirit humbly bow,
In worship and in prayer to thee.
And when our lips no more shall move,
Our hearts no longer beat or burn,
Then may the children that we love
Take up the strain, and, in their turn,
Our hearts no longer beat or burn,
Then may the children that we love
Take up the strain, and, in their turn,
With trump, and pipe, and viol strings,
Here pay, with music's sweet accords,
Their tribute to the King of kings,
Their homage to the Lord of lords.
Here pay, with music's sweet accords,
Their tribute to the King of kings,
Their homage to the Lord of lords.
[III. When thy Son, O God, was sleeping]
[_]
Written for the Dedication of the New Stone Congregational Church in Quincy, November 12th, 1828.
When thy Son, O God, was sleeping,
In death's rocky prison bound,
When his faithful ones were weeping,
And the guards were watching round,
Then thy word, that strong house shaking,
Rent the rocky bars away,
And the holy sleeper, waking,
Rose to meet the rising day.
In death's rocky prison bound,
When his faithful ones were weeping,
And the guards were watching round,
Then thy word, that strong house shaking,
Rent the rocky bars away,
And the holy sleeper, waking,
Rose to meet the rising day.
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Where thy word, by Jesus spoken,
In its power is heard even now,
Shake the hills, the rocks are broken,
As on Calvary's trembling brow.
From the bosom of the mountain,
At that word, these stones have burst,
And have gathered round the fountain
Where our souls may quench their thirst.
In its power is heard even now,
Shake the hills, the rocks are broken,
As on Calvary's trembling brow.
From the bosom of the mountain,
At that word, these stones have burst,
And have gathered round the fountain
Where our souls may quench their thirst.
Here the water of salvation
Long hath gushed, a liberal wave;
Here a Father of our nation
Drank, and felt the strength it gave.
Here he sleeps, his bed how lowly!
But his aim and trust were high;
And his memory,—that is holy;
And his name,—it cannot die.
Long hath gushed, a liberal wave;
Here a Father of our nation
Drank, and felt the strength it gave.
Here he sleeps, his bed how lowly!
But his aim and trust were high;
And his memory,—that is holy;
And his name,—it cannot die.
While beneath this temple's portal
Rest the relies of the just,
While the light of hope immortal
Shines above his sacred dust,
While the well of life its waters
To the weary here shall give,
Father, may thy sons and daughters,
Kneeling round it, drink and live!
Rest the relies of the just,
While the light of hope immortal
Shines above his sacred dust,
While the well of life its waters
To the weary here shall give,
Father, may thy sons and daughters,
Kneeling round it, drink and live!
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[IV. To God, to God alone]
[_]
Written for the Dedication of the First Congregational Church in Cincinnati, Ohio, May 23d, 1830.
To God, to God alone,
This temple have we reared;
To God, who holds a throne
Unshaken and unshared.
Sole King of Heaven,
Who 'st heard our prayers
And blessed our cares,
To thee 't is given.
This temple have we reared;
To God, who holds a throne
Unshaken and unshared.
Sole King of Heaven,
Who 'st heard our prayers
And blessed our cares,
To thee 't is given.
O thou, whose bounty fills
This plain so rich and wide,
And makes its guardian hills
Rejoice, on every side,
With shady tree
And growing grain;
This decent fane
We give to thee.
This plain so rich and wide,
And makes its guardian hills
Rejoice, on every side,
With shady tree
And growing grain;
This decent fane
We give to thee.
Thou, who hast ever stooped
To load our land with good,
Whose hand this vale hath scooped,
And rolleth down its flood
To the far sea,—
This house we raise,
And now, with praise,
Devote to thee.
To load our land with good,
Whose hand this vale hath scooped,
And rolleth down its flood
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This house we raise,
And now, with praise,
Devote to thee.
To all, O God of love,
Dost thou thy footsteps show;
The white and blue above,
The green and gold below,
The grove, the breeze,
The morning's beam,
The star, the stream,—
They 're seen in these.
Dost thou thy footsteps show;
The white and blue above,
The green and gold below,
The grove, the breeze,
The morning's beam,
The star, the stream,—
They 're seen in these.
Where now, in goodly show,
The domes of art are piled,
Thy paths, not long ago,
Dropped fatness on a wild.
O let us see
Thy goings here,
Where now we rear
A house for thee.
The domes of art are piled,
Thy paths, not long ago,
Dropped fatness on a wild.
O let us see
Thy goings here,
Where now we rear
A house for thee.
Nursed by the blessed dew,
And light of Bethlehem's star,
A vine on Calvary grew,
And cast its shade afar.
A storm went by,—
One blooming bough,
Torn off, buds now
Beneath our sky.
And light of Bethlehem's star,
A vine on Calvary grew,
And cast its shade afar.
A storm went by,—
One blooming bough,
Torn off, buds now
Beneath our sky.
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O, let no drought or blight
This plant of thine come nigh;
But may the dew, all night,
Upon its branches lie;
Till towards this vine
All flesh shall press,
And taste and bless
Its fruit and wine.
This plant of thine come nigh;
But may the dew, all night,
Upon its branches lie;
Till towards this vine
All flesh shall press,
And taste and bless
Its fruit and wine.
Because, O Lord, thy grace
Hath visited the West,
And given our hearts a place
Of worship and of rest;
Old age and youth,
The weak, the strong,
Shall praise in song
Thy grace and truth.
Hath visited the West,
And given our hearts a place
Of worship and of rest;
Old age and youth,
The weak, the strong,
Shall praise in song
Thy grace and truth.
The grace and truth that came
By thine Anointed Son,
Here let such lips proclaim
As fire hath fallen upon,
From out the high
And holy place
Where dwells in grace
Thy Deity.
By thine Anointed Son,
Here let such lips proclaim
As fire hath fallen upon,
From out the high
And holy place
Where dwells in grace
Thy Deity.
To thee, to thee alone,
This temple have we reared:
To thee,—before whose throne,
Unshaken and unshared,
Sole King of Heaven,
With thanks we bow,—
This temple now
For praise is given.
This temple have we reared:
To thee,—before whose throne,
Unshaken and unshared,
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With thanks we bow,—
This temple now
For praise is given.
[V. To Thee, O God, in humble trust]
To Thee, O God, in humble trust,
Our hearts their grateful incense burn
For this thy word, “Thou art of dust,
And unto dust shalt thou return.”
Our hearts their grateful incense burn
For this thy word, “Thou art of dust,
And unto dust shalt thou return.”
For, what were life, life's work all done,
The hopes, joys, loves, that cling to clay,
All, all departed, one by one,
And yet life's load borne on for aye.
The hopes, joys, loves, that cling to clay,
All, all departed, one by one,
And yet life's load borne on for aye.
Decay! Decay! 't is stamped on all!
All bloom, in flower and flesh, shall fade;
Ye whispering trees, when we shall fall,
Be our long sleep beneath your shade!
All bloom, in flower and flesh, shall fade;
Ye whispering trees, when we shall fall,
Be our long sleep beneath your shade!
Here, to thy bosom, mother Earth,
Take back, in peace, what thou hast given;
And all that is of heavenly birth,
O God, in peace, recall to Heaven.
Take back, in peace, what thou hast given;
And all that is of heavenly birth,
O God, in peace, recall to Heaven.
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[VI. Thou, who on the whirlwind ridest]
[_]
Written for the Dedication of the Seaman's Bethel, under the Direction of the Boston Port Society, September 4th, 1833.
Thou, who on the whirlwind ridest,
At whose word the thunder roars,
Who, in majesty, presidest
O'er the oceans and their shores;
From those shores, and from the oceans,
We, the children of the sea,
Come to pay thee our devotions,
And to give this house to thee.
At whose word the thunder roars,
Who, in majesty, presidest
O'er the oceans and their shores;
From those shores, and from the oceans,
We, the children of the sea,
Come to pay thee our devotions,
And to give this house to thee.
When, for business on great waters,
We go down to sea in ships,
And our weeping wives and daughters
Hang, at parting, on our lips,
This, our Bethel, shall remind us,
That there 's One who heareth prayer,
And that those we leave behind us
Are a faithful pastor's care.
We go down to sea in ships,
And our weeping wives and daughters
Hang, at parting, on our lips,
This, our Bethel, shall remind us,
That there 's One who heareth prayer,
And that those we leave behind us
Are a faithful pastor's care.
Visions of our native highlands,
In our wave-rocked dreams embalmed,
Winds that come from spicy islands
When we long have lain becalmed,
Are not to our souls so pleasant
As the offerings we shall bring
Hither, to the Omnipresent,
For the shadow of his wing.
In our wave-rocked dreams embalmed,
Winds that come from spicy islands
When we long have lain becalmed,
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As the offerings we shall bring
Hither, to the Omnipresent,
For the shadow of his wing.
When in port, each day that 's holy,
To this house we 'll press in throngs;
When at sea, with spirit lowly,
We 'll repeat its sacred songs.
Outward bound, shall we, in sadness,
Lose its flag behind the seas;
Homeward bound, we 'll greet with gladness
Its first floating on the breeze.
To this house we 'll press in throngs;
When at sea, with spirit lowly,
We 'll repeat its sacred songs.
Outward bound, shall we, in sadness,
Lose its flag behind the seas;
Homeward bound, we 'll greet with gladness
Its first floating on the breeze.
Homeward bound!—with deep emotion,
We remember, Lord, that life
Is a voyage upon an ocean,
Heaved by many a tempest's strife.
Be thy statutes so engraven
On our hearts and minds, that we,
Anchoring in Death's quiet haven,
All may make our home with thee.
We remember, Lord, that life
Is a voyage upon an ocean,
Heaved by many a tempest's strife.
Be thy statutes so engraven
On our hearts and minds, that we,
Anchoring in Death's quiet haven,
All may make our home with thee.
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[VII. The winds and waves were roaring]
[_]
Written for the Dedication of the new Congregational Church in Plymouth, built upon the Ground occupied by the earliest Congregational Church in America.
The winds and waves were roaring;
The Pilgrims met for prayer;
And here, their God adoring,
They stood, in open air.
When breaking day they greeted,
And when its close was calm,
The leafless woods repeated
The music of their psalm.
The Pilgrims met for prayer;
And here, their God adoring,
They stood, in open air.
When breaking day they greeted,
And when its close was calm,
The leafless woods repeated
The music of their psalm.
Not thus, O God, to praise thee,
Do we, their children, throng;
The temple's arch we raise thee
Gives back our choral song.
Yet, on the winds, that bore thee
Their worship and their prayers,
May ours come up before thee
From hearts as true as theirs!
Do we, their children, throng;
The temple's arch we raise thee
Gives back our choral song.
Yet, on the winds, that bore thee
Their worship and their prayers,
May ours come up before thee
From hearts as true as theirs!
What have we, Lord, to bind us
To this, the Pilgrims' shore!—
Their hill of graves behind us,
Their watery way before,
The wintry surge, that dashes
Against the rocks they trod,
Their memory, and their ashes,—
Be thou their guard, O God!
To this, the Pilgrims' shore!—
Their hill of graves behind us,
Their watery way before,
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Against the rocks they trod,
Their memory, and their ashes,—
Be thou their guard, O God!
We would not, Holy Father,
Forsake this hallowed spot,
Till on that shore we gather
Where graves and griefs are not;
The shore where true devotion
Shall rear no pillared shrine,
And see no other ocean
Than that of love divine.
Forsake this hallowed spot,
Till on that shore we gather
Where graves and griefs are not;
The shore where true devotion
Shall rear no pillared shrine,
And see no other ocean
Than that of love divine.
[VIII. Tossed on the billows of the main]
[_]
Written for the Opening of the Mariner's House in Ann Street, Boston, as a Boarding-house for Seamen, by the Ladies of “The Seaman's Aid Society,” in May, 1837.
Tossed on the billows of the main,
And doomed from zone to zone to roam,
The seaman toiled for others' gain,
But, for himself, he had no home.
And doomed from zone to zone to roam,
The seaman toiled for others' gain,
But, for himself, he had no home.
No father's door was open flung
For him, just “rescued from the wreck”;
No sister clasped her arms and hung,
In speechless joy, around his neck;
For him, just “rescued from the wreck”;
No sister clasped her arms and hung,
In speechless joy, around his neck;
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But he was cast upon a world
More dangerous than the ocean's roar,
When o'er his bark the surges curled,
And drove it on a leeward shore.
More dangerous than the ocean's roar,
When o'er his bark the surges curled,
And drove it on a leeward shore.
He had no home;—and so had He
Who, as his bark began to fill,
Said to the Lake of Galilee,
When lashed by tempests, “Peace! Be still!”
Who, as his bark began to fill,
Said to the Lake of Galilee,
When lashed by tempests, “Peace! Be still!”
Of winds and dashing waves the sport,
By perils, while at sea, beset,
The sailor found himself, in port,
Exposed to greater perils yet.
By perils, while at sea, beset,
The sailor found himself, in port,
Exposed to greater perils yet.
False brethren were his perils there,
And perils by his countrymen,
And perils by the sirens fair
That lured him to the robber's den.
And perils by his countrymen,
And perils by the sirens fair
That lured him to the robber's den.
But now a brother
stands, in stead,
With open arms, to take him in,
And spreads a banquet and a bed
That may be tasted without sin.
With open arms, to take him in,
And spreads a banquet and a bed
That may be tasted without sin.
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Yes!—the poor seaman hath a home!
We thank thee, God, for what we see;
Let him no more 'mid perils roam,
But come, at once, to it and thee.
We thank thee, God, for what we see;
Let him no more 'mid perils roam,
But come, at once, to it and thee.
Rev. Edward T. Taylor, (formerly a seaman,) Pastor of the Seaman's Chapel, or Bethel, and general Superintendent of the Mariner's House.
[IX. No curtains drawn, nor tent, nor shed]
No curtains drawn, nor tent, nor shed,
Shut out the over-arching skies,
When Jesus, in his manger bed,
First turned to heaven his infant eyes.
Shut out the over-arching skies,
When Jesus, in his manger bed,
First turned to heaven his infant eyes.
But quiet stars looked down, and threw,
From diamond cups, on all the ground,
Their blessed gift of light and dew,
While oxen fed or slept around.
From diamond cups, on all the ground,
Their blessed gift of light and dew,
While oxen fed or slept around.
The babe, that in that manger lay,
Hath brought a gift more blessed far
Than night dews, or the brightest ray
That ever dropped from sun or star.
Hath brought a gift more blessed far
Than night dews, or the brightest ray
That ever dropped from sun or star.
The light of truth, the dew of grace,
He giveth to a world of sin;
And to his name we give this place,
That once a mangered stall hath been.
He giveth to a world of sin;
And to his name we give this place,
That once a mangered stall hath been.
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Not as the Magi came, of old,
With offerings to the new-born King,
Of myrrh, and frankincense, and gold,
Come we; but, Lord, this house we bring
With offerings to the new-born King,
Of myrrh, and frankincense, and gold,
Come we; but, Lord, this house we bring
To thee;—and, since thou dost prefer,
Before all temples, hearts sincere,
We pray that many a worshipper
May kneel and find acceptance here.
Before all temples, hearts sincere,
We pray that many a worshipper
May kneel and find acceptance here.
[X. On this stone, now laid with prayer]
[_]
Written on the Occasion of Laying the Corner Stone of the Suffolk Street Chapel, in Boston, for the Ministry to the Poor, May 23d, 1839.
On this stone, now laid with prayer,
Let thy church rise, strong and fair;
Ever, Lord, thy name be known,
Where we 've laid this Corner Stone.
Let thy church rise, strong and fair;
Ever, Lord, thy name be known,
Where we 've laid this Corner Stone.
Let “thy holy child,” who came
Man from error to reclaim,
And the sinner to atone
With thee, bless this Corner Stone.
Man from error to reclaim,
And the sinner to atone
With thee, bless this Corner Stone.
Let the star that stood, at first,
O'er the place where He was nursed,
And on wondering Magi shone,
Beam upon this Corner Stone.
O'er the place where He was nursed,
And on wondering Magi shone,
Beam upon this Corner Stone.
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Let the spirit from above,
That once hovered, like a dove,
O'er the Jordan, hither flown,
Hover o'er this Corner Stone.
That once hovered, like a dove,
O'er the Jordan, hither flown,
Hover o'er this Corner Stone.
In the sinner's troubled breast,
In the heart by care oppressed,
Let the seeds of truth be sown,
Where we 've laid this Corner Stone.
In the heart by care oppressed,
Let the seeds of truth be sown,
Where we 've laid this Corner Stone.
Open wide, O God, thy door,
For the outcast and the poor,
Who can call no house their own,
Where we 've laid this Corner Stone.
For the outcast and the poor,
Who can call no house their own,
Where we 've laid this Corner Stone.
By “wise master builders” squared,
Here be living stones prepared
For the temple near thy throne;—
Jesus Christ its Corner Stone.
Here be living stones prepared
For the temple near thy throne;—
Jesus Christ its Corner Stone.
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[XI. Knowledge and Virtue! sister powers]
Knowledge and Virtue! sister powers,
Who guard and grace a Christian state,
Better than bulwarks, walls, or towers,
To you this hall we dedicate.
Who guard and grace a Christian state,
Better than bulwarks, walls, or towers,
To you this hall we dedicate.
Temple of Science! through thy door,
Now first thrown open, do we throng,
And reverently stand before
Creation's God, with prayer and song.
Now first thrown open, do we throng,
And reverently stand before
Creation's God, with prayer and song.
Father of lights! thou gav'st us eyes
Earth, ocean, sun, and stars to see,
And thee in all;—they roll or rise
To teach us of thy majesty.
Earth, ocean, sun, and stars to see,
And thee in all;—they roll or rise
To teach us of thy majesty.
Works of his hand! where'er ye lie,
In earth or heaven, in light or shade,
These walls shall to your voice reply;
Here shall your wonders be displayed.
In earth or heaven, in light or shade,
These walls shall to your voice reply;
Here shall your wonders be displayed.
Trees! that in field or forest stand,
Flowers! that spring up in every zone,
Winds! that with fragrance fill your hand,
Where trees have leafed, or flowers have blown,—
Flowers! that spring up in every zone,
Winds! that with fragrance fill your hand,
Where trees have leafed, or flowers have blown,—
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Suns! in the depths of space that burn,
Planets! that walk around our own,
Comets! that rush to fill your urn
With light out-gushing from his throne,—
Planets! that walk around our own,
Comets! that rush to fill your urn
With light out-gushing from his throne,—
Waters! from all the earth that rise,
And back to all its oceans go,
Cooling, in clouds, the flaming skies,
Cheering, in rains, the world below,—
And back to all its oceans go,
Cooling, in clouds, the flaming skies,
Cheering, in rains, the world below,—
Torrents! that down the mountain rush,
Glaciers! that on its shoulders shine,
Pearls! in your ocean bed that blush,
Diamonds! yet sleeping in your mine,—
Glaciers! that on its shoulders shine,
Pearls! in your ocean bed that blush,
Diamonds! yet sleeping in your mine,—
Lightnings! that from your cloud leap out,
Thunders! that in its bosom sleep,
Fires! that from Etna's crater spout,
Rocks! that the earthquake's records keep,—
Thunders! that in its bosom sleep,
Fires! that from Etna's crater spout,
Rocks! that the earthquake's records keep,—
Rainbows! that over-arch a storm,
Or dance around a waterfall,
Tornadoes! that earth's face deform,—
Teach us, O teach us, in this hall.
Or dance around a waterfall,
Tornadoes! that earth's face deform,—
Teach us, O teach us, in this hall.
| Airs of Palestine, and other poems | |