 | Days and Hours |  |
216
THE FISHERS' HYMN.
I
Hark! 'tis the weary Fishers' Evening hymn;The day is ended, and the toil is o'er;
The ropes are coil'd, the sails are furl'd and trim
The nets are dry, the boat is on the shore;
The sunset glows along the purple bound;
They sit and look toward the Western gold,
And mingle with the solemn vesper sound
Of the sunk tide their voices young and old.
II
With a low silver-tongued monotonyThe little billows whisper as they fall;
Calm is the forehead of the outer sea
As though it would not reawake at all;
But yestermorn like mountains earthquake-shaken
The waters sway'd against the dawning light,
And now they lie like Sorrows overtaken
By weary sleep that cannot wait for night.
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III
Hark! 'tis the weary Fishers' evening hymn,A lowly Alleluia, mournful-sweet;
But thro' the harpstrings of the Cherubim
That music flows unto the Mercy-seat;
An ancient voice; a grateful sacrifice;
The suffering tones of uncomplaining Time;
Faith wrapt in weeds; Hope folded up in sighs;
The heart of Nature sadden'd but sublime.
IV
Laid at their feet in love as strong as life,With upward eyes, that fill with happy tears,
The sorrow-worn and patient-hearted wife
Holds up her tender child the heir of fears:
More dear is she than on her bridal day,
More dear his face whereon she loves to dwell
Than priceless pearls, and treasures cast away—
Her welcome sounded wild as her farewell
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V
The passing anguish of remember'd painsDrags back to Earth the notes that soar to Heaven;
Dread as a dream the shade of Ill remains,
Their awful hearts are as the gray of Even;
burst of exultation, and of praise—
A sadden'd cadence closing notes of cheer—
For tho' they have been snatch'd from woful days,
That which they fear'd, and fled, is still to fear.
VI
Welcome as waters to the wildernessShed back upon the waste from which they spring,
Those solemn harmonies go up and bless
The overladen souls of them who sing:
Ye whom care stifles and disasters chill,
Ye of the faint heart, and whose faith is dim,
O ye impatient of the touch of Ill
Hark! to the weary Fishers' evening hymn!
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VII
Fear not, nor faint; remember Him who tookThe lowly hearts of simple men and poor,
Fill'd them with strength, and taught them words that shook
The Earth, and bridged the Seas from shore to shore;
Remember Him—He stands among ye there—
He weighs the earnest sigh, the steadfast will,
The toil, the love, the peril, and the care;
For He who walk'd the Waters walks them still!
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