 | The Shepherd's Garden |  |
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THE SHEPHERD'S GOOD NIGHT.
Oh, blessed Night, who dost from care assoil
The careful soul, and bid revive again
Those tender voices in the press and moil
Of travailed day concealed and hushed had lain,
Thou bringest rest unto the poor man's toil,
And pourest balm upon the sick man's pain;
Thou takest all the world within thine arms,
Soothing its troubled breathings by thy charms.
The careful soul, and bid revive again
Those tender voices in the press and moil
Of travailed day concealed and hushed had lain,
Thou bringest rest unto the poor man's toil,
And pourest balm upon the sick man's pain;
Thou takest all the world within thine arms,
Soothing its troubled breathings by thy charms.
Wrapt in thy filmy stole of dusky grey,
Thou hidest us from grief and lean despair,
And rolling all these earthly clouds away,
Dost ope the gate of that celestial stair
Whereon white angels tread, whose brows display
Immortal garlands through their golden hair,
Who bringing smiles and whispers soft and light,
Watch by lone couches through the livelong night.
Thou hidest us from grief and lean despair,
And rolling all these earthly clouds away,
Dost ope the gate of that celestial stair
Whereon white angels tread, whose brows display
Immortal garlands through their golden hair,
Who bringing smiles and whispers soft and light,
Watch by lone couches through the livelong night.
Touched by thy hand the crimson blushing rose,
Drawing its petaled curtains, falls asleep;
In wattled pens the folded flocks repose,
Whilst winds are hushed and moon and stars do peep;
The new-made mother clasps her babe more close,
Dear babes more closely to their mothers creep;
Such melting thoughts are born from thy soft kiss
As steep sweet lovers in deep dreams of bliss.
Drawing its petaled curtains, falls asleep;
In wattled pens the folded flocks repose,
Whilst winds are hushed and moon and stars do peep;
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Dear babes more closely to their mothers creep;
Such melting thoughts are born from thy soft kiss
As steep sweet lovers in deep dreams of bliss.
Now bats and moths and owls begin to stir,
And swarthy night-elves trip it on the grass,
And fairies, liveried in gossamer,
With twining hands and twinkling footsteps pass;
Soft whispers fall from slumbering birch and fir;
Each rustic shepherd hies him to his lass;
The weary hours are washed in silvery dews;
Such grace thou dost through all the world diffuse.
And swarthy night-elves trip it on the grass,
And fairies, liveried in gossamer,
With twining hands and twinkling footsteps pass;
Soft whispers fall from slumbering birch and fir;
Each rustic shepherd hies him to his lass;
The weary hours are washed in silvery dews;
Such grace thou dost through all the world diffuse.
Now doth sweet Philomel in loud complaint,
Make all the woodland chambers ring and thrill
With the sad story which she first did paint
In woven lines, of cruel Tereus' ill,
Then with her heavy passion sick and faint,
She leans against a thorn and fain would still
Her anguished sorrows on the spine it wears;
For this she finds less sharp than those she bears.
Make all the woodland chambers ring and thrill
With the sad story which she first did paint
In woven lines, of cruel Tereus' ill,
Then with her heavy passion sick and faint,
She leans against a thorn and fain would still
Her anguished sorrows on the spine it wears;
For this she finds less sharp than those she bears.
The seaman on the crystal-bosomed deep,
Trims his white sail and turns his prow tow'rds home,
Whereas his faithful spouse high watch doth keep
Beneath the azure of heav'n's spangled dome,
Asking no boon of weary-lidded sleep
Until her much-expected lord shall come.
Lo, yonder beacon from the window burn
With steady light invites his swift return.
Trims his white sail and turns his prow tow'rds home,
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Beneath the azure of heav'n's spangled dome,
Asking no boon of weary-lidded sleep
Until her much-expected lord shall come.
Lo, yonder beacon from the window burn
With steady light invites his swift return.
O golden star of happy Human Love
Lit by the splendid fires of Love Divine,
Though envious clouds day's sunshine may remove,
No depth of cloud shall ever darken thine;
For thy supernal radiance high above
These misty vapours holds empyreal line;
Thou dost dispose all mortal things to even,
Soothed into peace by harmonies of heaven!—
Lit by the splendid fires of Love Divine,
Though envious clouds day's sunshine may remove,
No depth of cloud shall ever darken thine;
For thy supernal radiance high above
These misty vapours holds empyreal line;
Thou dost dispose all mortal things to even,
Soothed into peace by harmonies of heaven!—
Lord of the Night, great King and God of Day,
Whom all men worship under several names,
Thou who dost all this wondrous world upstay,
Clothed in the tempest, crowned with shining flames,
Whose power the raging winds and seas obey,
Whose hand the painted flower to beauty frames,
Who holdest all thy creatures in thine eye,
God of high grace, of might and majesty:
Whom all men worship under several names,
Thou who dost all this wondrous world upstay,
Clothed in the tempest, crowned with shining flames,
Whose power the raging winds and seas obey,
Whose hand the painted flower to beauty frames,
Who holdest all thy creatures in thine eye,
God of high grace, of might and majesty:
Let beams go forth of Thee as day and night
Bring in their round of toil and wholesome rest,
And in the glory of a better light,
Men's hearts be fed and nourished on the best,
Enlarge thy people with the broader sight
To see that all the world by Thee is blest,
And Death and Life are but the ministers
Of those vast ends thy wider purpose stirs.
Bring in their round of toil and wholesome rest,
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Men's hearts be fed and nourished on the best,
Enlarge thy people with the broader sight
To see that all the world by Thee is blest,
And Death and Life are but the ministers
Of those vast ends thy wider purpose stirs.
For what is man: what are we but the leaves
That hang upon thy wide-dispreading tree,
Whose veinèd branching world with world enweaves,
And makes the universe a part of Thee?
What though we fall: what though these Time-fed sheaves
To nobler purpose destined, garnered be!
Enough that Thou the Lord remain the same,
Though we, thy creatures, change each day our name.
That hang upon thy wide-dispreading tree,
Whose veinèd branching world with world enweaves,
And makes the universe a part of Thee?
What though we fall: what though these Time-fed sheaves
To nobler purpose destined, garnered be!
Enough that Thou the Lord remain the same,
Though we, thy creatures, change each day our name.
We change and fly as mist before the sun;
Our life a fleeting day-time doth present;
We love and hate, and then our glass is run,
And all the talents gone which Thou hast lent;
Our term decay: our course is scarce begun
Ere we do find our portioned measure spent.
Be Thou our anchor, and our haven be,
Whose sober trust and hope are staid on Thee.
Our life a fleeting day-time doth present;
We love and hate, and then our glass is run,
And all the talents gone which Thou hast lent;
Our term decay: our course is scarce begun
Ere we do find our portioned measure spent.
Be Thou our anchor, and our haven be,
Whose sober trust and hope are staid on Thee.
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Bring down thy heavens in glory to the earth,
Or let the earth ascend to where Thou art;
Awake within us those pure springs whose birth
First found a flowing in the Master's heart;
Let clasping hands and trust and honest worth
Bind every human creature each a part
Of one united being growing still
From good to good into thy Perfect Will.
Or let the earth ascend to where Thou art;
Awake within us those pure springs whose birth
First found a flowing in the Master's heart;
Let clasping hands and trust and honest worth
Bind every human creature each a part
Of one united being growing still
From good to good into thy Perfect Will.
| The Shepherd's Garden | |