 | Sonnets by the Rev. Charles Turner [i.e. Charles Tennyson] |  |
98
A NON-NATURAL ASCENSION AND WHIT-SUNDAY.
Christ leaves to-day the little gazing crowdUpon the Mount, as straight to Heaven He fares;
O! let us follow Him with hymns and prayers
Up to the skirts of that receiving cloud;
But lo! the preacher hath no hope, no trust,
Nor can he, 'mid our coming Whitsun-songs,
Make common cause with all those fiery tongues
That hail the glories of the Pentecost;
But, if he ever thought it joy to meet
The faithful—if that memory thrills him yet—
Full surely must he feel some fond regret,
At parting with a creed so grand and sweet;
A grief, as when forsaken Olivet
Rolled sadly from beneath the Saviour's feet.
| Sonnets by the Rev. Charles Turner [i.e. Charles Tennyson] | |