 | A New Year's Eve, and Other Poems |  |
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THE STARS.
The stars! the stars! go forth by night,
Lift up thine eyes on high,
And view the countless orbs of light
Which gem the vaulted sky:
Go forth in silence and alone,
This glorious sight to scan;
And bid thy humbled spirit own
The littleness of man.
Lift up thine eyes on high,
And view the countless orbs of light
Which gem the vaulted sky:
Go forth in silence and alone,
This glorious sight to scan;
And bid thy humbled spirit own
The littleness of man.
The stars! the stars! thou canst not dream
For thee alone they shine:
That thus the heavens with splendour gleam,
To glad those eyes of thine;
Each orb that decks yon vaulted dome,
For aught thy pride can tell,
May be the brighter, happier home
Where deathless spirits dwell.
For thee alone they shine:
That thus the heavens with splendour gleam,
To glad those eyes of thine;
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For aught thy pride can tell,
May be the brighter, happier home
Where deathless spirits dwell.
The stars! the stars! Oh well may pride
Confess the truths they preach:
Yet to devotion, eagle-eyed,
Exalted thoughts they teach;
They tell not only of the might
Of Him enthroned above,
But trace, in characters of light,
His mercy and his love.
Confess the truths they preach:
Yet to devotion, eagle-eyed,
Exalted thoughts they teach;
They tell not only of the might
Of Him enthroned above,
But trace, in characters of light,
His mercy and his love.
The stars! the stars! recall that one
Which shone o'er Bethlehem's plains,
When God sent down his glorious Son,
To break our galling chains:
To shed his blood; upon the tree
Our chastisement to bear;
Oh! think of Him who died for thee,
With gratitude and prayer.
Which shone o'er Bethlehem's plains,
When God sent down his glorious Son,
To break our galling chains:
To shed his blood; upon the tree
Our chastisement to bear;
Oh! think of Him who died for thee,
With gratitude and prayer.
150
The stars! the stars! the silent stars
Unto the worldling's ear;
But he whose sense no passion mars,
Their voice divine can hear;
To him they sing those heavenly songs
Which seraph harps employ,
And he in spirit joins the throngs
Who with them “shout for joy!”
Unto the worldling's ear;
But he whose sense no passion mars,
Their voice divine can hear;
To him they sing those heavenly songs
Which seraph harps employ,
And he in spirit joins the throngs
Who with them “shout for joy!”
| A New Year's Eve, and Other Poems | |