University of Virginia Library

XI.

I said, as change and chance succeed,
That Prayer doth Heav'n-ward bear our need,—
When in this temple, greenly dight,
And arch'd o'er with its roof of light,

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Our childhood woke to earth's unrest,
That Prayer came like an Angel guest,
And in that pensive silent cell,
Which heart of childhood knoweth well,
It led our thoughts by gentle mien
To dwell around a friend unseen;
And turn'd from earth the wondering eyes
Unto a happier Paradise.
When we were grown to riper years,
Woo'd by a world of hopes and fears,
Each morn and evening it would come,
And lighting up the silent room
Would oft forgotten still intrude
On evening's holier solitude,
A gentle witness standing nigh
Of things that should not be put by.
More and more to our manlier sense
Faith's treasur'd stores it doth dispense,
A key that opes omnipotence:
It can the mountains set afar,
Which our obedience seem to bar.
But if not made in love our own
It is a witness of stern tone;
Or seems with parting wings to go,
And leave us to the world below.

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When age hath come, ere we depart,
That Witness takes the Judge's part,—
The Judge's part, which serves to prove
Thoughts chain'd below, or train'd above,
Of character the form and measure,
Of our desires, our hope, and treasure:
Whether in converse with the sky
We strength have gain'd to walk on high;
With thoughts to our true Father led,
Content below with daily bread:
Or whether in low dreams of earth
Forgotten lies our better birth.