 | Western windows and other poems |  |
107
THE GOLDEN HAND.
Lo, from the city's heat and dust
A Golden Hand forever thrust,
Uplifting from a spire on high
A shining finger in the sky!
A Golden Hand forever thrust,
Uplifting from a spire on high
A shining finger in the sky!
I see it when the morning brings
Fresh tides of life to living things,
And the great world awakes: behold,
That lifted Hand in morning gold!
Fresh tides of life to living things,
And the great world awakes: behold,
That lifted Hand in morning gold!
I see it when the noontide beats
Pulses of fire in busy streets;
The dust flies in the flaming air:
Above, that quiet Hand is there.
Pulses of fire in busy streets;
The dust flies in the flaming air:
Above, that quiet Hand is there.
I see it when the twilight clings
To the dark earth with hovering wings:
Flashing with the last fluttering ray,
That Golden Hand remembers day.
To the dark earth with hovering wings:
Flashing with the last fluttering ray,
That Golden Hand remembers day.
108
The midnight comes—the holy hour;
The city like a giant flower
Sleeps full of dew: that Hand, in light
Of moon and stars, how weirdly bright!
The city like a giant flower
Sleeps full of dew: that Hand, in light
Of moon and stars, how weirdly bright!
Below, in many a noisy street
Are toiling hands and striving feet;
The weakest rise, the strongest fall:
That equal Hand is over all.
Are toiling hands and striving feet;
The weakest rise, the strongest fall:
That equal Hand is over all.
Below, in courts to guard the land,
Gold buys the tongue and binds the hand:
Stealing in God's great scales the gold,
That awful Hand, above, behold!
Gold buys the tongue and binds the hand:
Stealing in God's great scales the gold,
That awful Hand, above, behold!
Below, the Sabbaths walk serene
With the great dust of Days between;
Preachers within their pulpits stand:
See, over all, that heavenly Hand!
With the great dust of Days between;
Preachers within their pulpits stand:
See, over all, that heavenly Hand!
But the hot dust, in crowded air
Below, arises never there:
O speech of one who cannot speak!
O Sabbath-witness of the Week!
Below, arises never there:
O speech of one who cannot speak!
O Sabbath-witness of the Week!
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