 | My Mind and its Thoughts, in Sketches, Fragments, and Essays |  |
235
LINES
TO A BELOVED AND REVERED MINISTER OF THE CHRISTIAN CHURCH.
What e'er of hope's religious calm I know,
To thee, Director of my thoughts, I owe,
Thee—sacred shepherd of a pastoral care,
Won to thy praise, as wakened by thy prayer.
To thee, Director of my thoughts, I owe,
Thee—sacred shepherd of a pastoral care,
Won to thy praise, as wakened by thy prayer.
When doomed to feel of grief the feared excess,
And lost the dream of earthly happiness,
I saw thee from thine height of mind descend,
And in the sorrowing suppliant, know the friend.
And lost the dream of earthly happiness,
I saw thee from thine height of mind descend,
And in the sorrowing suppliant, know the friend.
That voice, which, like a missioned angel's strain,
Ne'er pours the fine, and favouring thought in vain;
Thought, born of wisdom—but as pity kind,
Profound, yet lucid—forceful, yet refined.
Ne'er pours the fine, and favouring thought in vain;
Thought, born of wisdom—but as pity kind,
Profound, yet lucid—forceful, yet refined.
That thought—that voice—when sorrows full control
Had, like a wintery tempest, chilled the soul,
Could, like the vernal morning's gentle ray,
Bring the calm promise of restoring day.
Had, like a wintery tempest, chilled the soul,
Could, like the vernal morning's gentle ray,
Bring the calm promise of restoring day.
Calm—but not brilliant—joys no more shall rise,
But mournful seasons gleam through weeping skies,
While thou—and heaven—a holier light bestow,
To guide the sufferer through her path of woe.
But mournful seasons gleam through weeping skies,
While thou—and heaven—a holier light bestow,
To guide the sufferer through her path of woe.
| My Mind and its Thoughts, in Sketches, Fragments, and Essays | |