 | Metrical essays |  |
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SACRED MELODY.
I
His voice! 'tis heard upon the earthWhen morning's odorous songs have birth;
'Tis heard when the acclaiming waves
Come springing from their thousand caves;
'Tis heard when lowers the dark'ning heaven,
When walls are thrown—and ships are riven!
O! is there in the world a spot
Where to the soul God's voice speaks not?
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II
The glory of the ancient night,Rich in her countless worlds of light,
The beauty of the living land,
Speak of his high, mysterious hand:
Go—if thou doubt'st this truth—behold
When sets the sun in seas of gold;
Then say if there's on earth a spot
Where to the soul God's voice speaks not!
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