The Reliquary | ||
149
THE SPIRIT'S AIM
Bright is Spring's blue and balmy sky,
And fair her opening flowers;
And grateful, when the sun is high,
Are Summer's leafy bowers.
And fair her opening flowers;
And grateful, when the sun is high,
Are Summer's leafy bowers.
Lovely is Autumn's russet field,
With harvest's bounty crown'd;
And solemn is the music pealed
By Winter's tempests round.
With harvest's bounty crown'd;
And solemn is the music pealed
By Winter's tempests round.
But these are full of chance and change,
And tell of tide and time;
Well may the spirit sigh to range,
'Mid marvels more sublime.
And tell of tide and time;
Well may the spirit sigh to range,
'Mid marvels more sublime.
Immortal from its birth, 'twould soar
Above all objects here,
The viewless realms of space explore,
And seek its native sphere.
Above all objects here,
The viewless realms of space explore,
And seek its native sphere.
150
Can reason hope to guide its flight
Through regions all unknown?
Or its own virtues claim a right,
To call heaven's bliss its own?
Through regions all unknown?
Or its own virtues claim a right,
To call heaven's bliss its own?
No! faith must hear the heavenly call,
Hope prompt the humble prayer;
And love to Him who died for all,
Must lead the exile there!
Hope prompt the humble prayer;
And love to Him who died for all,
Must lead the exile there!
The Reliquary | ||