The Poetical Works of Robert Montgomery :: :: University of Virginia Library

Men of faith's heroic mould!
Who your birthright have not sold,
But the heirship of God's truth
Have preserved to age from youth,
Let the freedom of your soul
No debasement draw from earth,
But the Law of heaven control
What you deem of peerless worth.

“Let not earth your treasure be,
Ne'er from rust and robber free;
But in heaven behold a mine
Where the gold is all divine;
That which mortal love doth measure
As of time the truest spell,
Aye becomes a witching treasure
Where false hearts delight to dwell.”

Miser! with thy golden heap
Glaring through perturbèd sleep,
In thy wealth no wisdom lies;
Yet thy soul doth sacrifice
Heaven and hope, with all the bliss
Which on high the pure await;
Gilded clay thy treasure is,
And how cursed thine envied state!

Worldling! who for earth-prized gain
Creed and conscience both wilt strain;
Fill'd, and fever'd o'er with cares,
Doom'd to be but Sorrow's heirs,
Dwarf'd and mean thy nature grows,
Day by day intensely vile;
Deeper far than virtue knows,
Coils the serpent in thy smile!

Patriot! in whose haughty plan
Looks reveal'd a heaven for man,
Madly dreaming time and sense
All in all for man dispense,

Brain may work, and genius build
Schemes of most colossal name,
But o'er visions unfulfill'd
Thou shalt sing the dirge of shame.

Student! cloister'd in the cell
Haunted with some hoary spell
Books of sages and of seers
Breathe from immemorial years,—
Rich and radiant are the hopes
Round thy soul that beam and play,
But ambition with thee copes,
And of this thou art the prey.

Poet! thou art priest of song;
Heaven and earth to thee belong;
Beauty, grandeur, love and grace
Circle round the bardic race;
Seize thy harp, and sweep the chords
Till they glow with mental fire,
And like oracles, rich words
Roll from thy melodious lyre;

But if gold, or gain intrude
On thy soul in solitude,
If mere passion for renown
Should assail thy minstrel-crown,
Should thy chant, debauch'd and base,
E'er for sordid end be sung,
Angels blush for thy disgrace,—
Would thy harp were never strung!

Lord! and will affections be
Fill'd with dust, and dead to Thee,
If around one heart they twine,
With a passion half divine?
Teach us, then, no creature can
Saint, or seraph-heart enchain,
But it mars the mighty plan,—
God alone as God must reign!

Mother! 'tis a beauteous sight
When thou watchest day and night
Fondly round some elfin creature
Budding with maternal feature,
Oft in cradled slumber rock'd,
Flush'd with fascination's dreams,
While each baby hand enlock'd
Clasp'd in adoration seems;

But if love should Christ betray,
And devotion steal away
From the God of babes, and men,
Wilt thou not be chasten'd then?
Or perchance, when fever'd breath
From thy little one is heaving,
Thou wilt learn by infant's death
That thy soul has God been leaving!

If upon thy sailor-boy,
Star of home and social joy,
Far amid the wild sea-waves
Where his head the tempest braves,
Thou art dreaming, when thy prayer
Heavenward should in faith be swelling,
Canst thou hope thy God is there,
If no grace be in thee dwelling?

Wife, and parent, husband, child,
Let not feeling be defiled
By a worship that withdraws
Love from those celestial Laws
Which in creatures claim the heart;—
There the Lord erects a throne
In whose glories none have part,
Where He reigns, and reigns alone!

Hide our treasure, Lord, in Thee!
And regenerate hearts will be,
Like the ransom'd, more and more
When they scan their radiant store,
Bliss seraphic taught to feel
While around the Lamb they bend,
Chanting with impassion'd zeal,—
“Glory's fount! and sinner's Friend!”