The Cathedral, or the Catholic and Apostolic Church in England Second edition [by Isaac Williams] |
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 | The Cathedral, or the Catholic and Apostolic Church in England |  |
VII.
Thy guiding hand a little further on,
Into the treasures of thine inner shrine!
O perfect energy of Thy deep word,
With varied ends combining all in one,
Like nature's works, all one, all manifold!
Each hath its single lesson, each is part
Of one great whole, that whole in each is found,
Each part with th'other blends, and lends its light.
One perfect whole, where earth and sea and skies
Are mirror'd; now at random thrown apart,
In thousand scintillations far and wide,
Each fragment bears the earth and sea and skies,
Each on the other throws its pictur'd form,
And all combine in one mysterious whole.
Into the treasures of thine inner shrine!
O perfect energy of Thy deep word,
With varied ends combining all in one,
Like nature's works, all one, all manifold!
Each hath its single lesson, each is part
Of one great whole, that whole in each is found,
Each part with th'other blends, and lends its light.
129
Are mirror'd; now at random thrown apart,
In thousand scintillations far and wide,
Each fragment bears the earth and sea and skies,
Each on the other throws its pictur'd form,
And all combine in one mysterious whole.
There Wisdom varies oft her mien and form,
Now sits with Job, bow'd down to misery's chain;
Wonderful things from water, earth, and air,
Approach her in the dismal solitude,—
A wilderness all touch'd by fiery breath—
The thunder and the lightning come to him,
The Behemoth is there, and mightiest forms
From the dark lair of Nature's hiding place
Come forth, to speak their Maker mightier far.
There Patience sits, and drooping Penitence,
That long had sought, and vainly sought relief,
Her image eyes in Woe's black flowing stream,
And lifts her head by bitterness reviv'd.
Now sits with Job, bow'd down to misery's chain;
Wonderful things from water, earth, and air,
Approach her in the dismal solitude,—
A wilderness all touch'd by fiery breath—
The thunder and the lightning come to him,
The Behemoth is there, and mightiest forms
From the dark lair of Nature's hiding place
Come forth, to speak their Maker mightier far.
There Patience sits, and drooping Penitence,
That long had sought, and vainly sought relief,
Her image eyes in Woe's black flowing stream,
And lifts her head by bitterness reviv'd.
The scene is chang'd, and Wisdom by the gate
Sits calling to the simple ones; and now
Her precepts are link'd beads of many hues,
She bears the golden key to hidden stores,
Rubies, and health, and plenteous barns, and wine,
A crown of glory, or a sheltering shield,
Apples of gold in silver pictures laid,
Wherein the Gospel's light in secret burns,
A tree of life, an ever brightening path,
Now length of days, now ways of pleasantness,
Now one that in an ivory palace dwells,
Now terrors in her hand, and hell and death,
Now in the whirlwind walks an armed man.
Thus, like the face of the autumnal night,
She varies: lo, anon her son she brings
On the world's highest stair, experience-crown'd.
O Royal Preacher, wondrous is thy voice,
And deep thy tale of earthly vanity,
Of nothing true but God, nor calm but Heav'n!
Sits calling to the simple ones; and now
Her precepts are link'd beads of many hues,
She bears the golden key to hidden stores,
Rubies, and health, and plenteous barns, and wine,
A crown of glory, or a sheltering shield,
Apples of gold in silver pictures laid,
130
A tree of life, an ever brightening path,
Now length of days, now ways of pleasantness,
Now one that in an ivory palace dwells,
Now terrors in her hand, and hell and death,
Now in the whirlwind walks an armed man.
Thus, like the face of the autumnal night,
She varies: lo, anon her son she brings
On the world's highest stair, experience-crown'd.
O Royal Preacher, wondrous is thy voice,
And deep thy tale of earthly vanity,
Of nothing true but God, nor calm but Heav'n!
| The Cathedral, or the Catholic and Apostolic Church in England | |