 | The Poetical Works of Robert Montgomery |  |
IDOLS IN THE HEART.
“These men set up their idols in their heart.”—Ezek. xiv. 3.
“Little children, keep yourselves
from idols.”—1 John v. 21.
There was a time, in ages dead,
When temples huge and vile
Their lowering fronts of darkness spread
O'er Albion's sea-wall'd isle.
When temples huge and vile
Their lowering fronts of darkness spread
O'er Albion's sea-wall'd isle.
But Christ by His apostles came
To preach the word divine,
And, lo! before truth's living flame
Dissolved each idol-shrine.
To preach the word divine,
And, lo! before truth's living flame
Dissolved each idol-shrine.
And now, a Church maternal opes
Her arms of christian love,
Embracing with their new-born hopes
Bright children for above.
Her arms of christian love,
Embracing with their new-born hopes
Bright children for above.
And by her sacraments and rites,
Her discipline and care,
Calm vigil, fast, and chaste delights,
And pure diurnal prayer,
Her discipline and care,
Calm vigil, fast, and chaste delights,
And pure diurnal prayer,
With whatsoe'er of secret grace
The Lord to her commits,
She strives to rear a heavenly race,
And each for glory fits.
The Lord to her commits,
She strives to rear a heavenly race,
And each for glory fits.
But oh, these hearts we poorly scan
If idols none are seen;
Their temple is that inner man
Where God's own gaze hath been!
If idols none are seen;
Their temple is that inner man
Where God's own gaze hath been!
Eye cannot pierce, nor ear perceive
What buried thoughts avow;
Yet souls, who dare the Spirit grieve,
Must to some idol bow.
What buried thoughts avow;
Yet souls, who dare the Spirit grieve,
Must to some idol bow.
We shudder when Christ's heroes find
Myriads in pagan gloom,
With poison'd heart, and palsied mind,
And conscience like a tomb:
Myriads in pagan gloom,
With poison'd heart, and palsied mind,
And conscience like a tomb:
Such tale when holy Mission tells,
Demands the Church's tear;
And who can hear of demon-spells
Nor throb with sacred fear?
Demands the Church's tear;
And who can hear of demon-spells
Nor throb with sacred fear?
But, are not souls baptised a home
For God enshrined within?
Father and Spirit, do they come
To reign o'er self and sin?
For God enshrined within?
Father and Spirit, do they come
To reign o'er self and sin?
Yet, what if our base idol be
Desire, instead of God?
Proud will,—a strong divinity
That rules us with a rod?
Desire, instead of God?
Proud will,—a strong divinity
That rules us with a rod?
Say, are we not, before the eye
Of Him who fathoms thought,
Idolators, whose hearts deny
The God our fathers sought?
Of Him who fathoms thought,
Idolators, whose hearts deny
The God our fathers sought?
We need not by the stumbling-block
Of wood, or stone, or gold,
Discerning reason madly shock
With shapes which men behold;
Of wood, or stone, or gold,
Discerning reason madly shock
With shapes which men behold;
Idolatry depraves the Will,
Our idols are desires,
When once our breast some passion fills
Which aught, save God, inspires.
Our idols are desires,
When once our breast some passion fills
Which aught, save God, inspires.
It may be, that the crown of praise,
The wreath proud genius wears,
A warrior's plume, or poet's bays
Excite ambition's prayers;
The wreath proud genius wears,
A warrior's plume, or poet's bays
Excite ambition's prayers;
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Or, forms of love, whose grace becomes
The bloom and breath of all
We value in these earthly homes,—
May weave our inward thrall;
The bloom and breath of all
We value in these earthly homes,—
May weave our inward thrall;
A husband in the wife may see
A heaven of human charms;
Or, he to her, life's angel be,
A shield from daily harms;
A heaven of human charms;
Or, he to her, life's angel be,
A shield from daily harms;
Or infant beauty, like a ray
From her own being sent,
To mother's love, may night and day
Impart too deep content:
From her own being sent,
To mother's love, may night and day
Impart too deep content:
Whate'er the guise, or winning name
Our bosom-idols take,
Strange incense with our altar-flame
Is blent, when we forsake
Our bosom-idols take,
Strange incense with our altar-flame
Is blent, when we forsake
That God who claims the heart alone
For His peculiar shrine:—
A creature must not mount the Throne
Where rules a Love divine.
For His peculiar shrine:—
A creature must not mount the Throne
Where rules a Love divine.
Heirs of the Spirit, are we not
Anointed sons of grace?
Alas! if our celestial lot
By treason we efface.
Anointed sons of grace?
Alas! if our celestial lot
By treason we efface.
To some base darling of desire,
Some earth-made god of sin,
Shall censers hold unhallow'd fire,
By passion breathed within?
Some earth-made god of sin,
Shall censers hold unhallow'd fire,
By passion breathed within?
Oh, better far that love and life,
With hope, and peace, and joy,
Howe'er with seeming mercy rife,
Some blast from heaven destroy;
With hope, and peace, and joy,
Howe'er with seeming mercy rife,
Some blast from heaven destroy;
Better be friendless, aidless, lone,
With none to weep our woes,
Than let some idol seize that throne
Sworn faith to Jesu owes.
With none to weep our woes,
Than let some idol seize that throne
Sworn faith to Jesu owes.
For what is there, on this side hell,
Which so like hell appears?—
A doom of dooms! no tongue can tell,
Thus rolling on our ears,
Which so like hell appears?—
A doom of dooms! no tongue can tell,
Thus rolling on our ears,
“Ephraim to idols hath his heart
From God and glory turn'd,—
Let him alone, and be his part
The solitude he earn'd!”
From God and glory turn'd,—
Let him alone, and be his part
The solitude he earn'd!”
| The Poetical Works of Robert Montgomery | |