 | The miscellaneous writings of Henry Ware |  |
240
ODE, ON OCCASION OF THE CENTENNIAL CELEBRATION OF HARVARD COLLEGE,
September 7, 1836.
Fling wide the temple door!
The altar and the choir prepare!
Let the high chant and solemn prayer
Their holy raptures pour.
For, lo, in festal pomp arrayed,
Forth issuing from their classic shade,
The sons of Science crowd the sacred floor.
The altar and the choir prepare!
Let the high chant and solemn prayer
Their holy raptures pour.
For, lo, in festal pomp arrayed,
Forth issuing from their classic shade,
The sons of Science crowd the sacred floor.
O, meetly to the house of praise
The fair and ancient mother goes,
And on Religion's altar lays
The offering due to Him who all bestows.
Grateful Memory brings her treasures,
Gathered through the centuries gone;
Hope, in sweet, prophetic measures,
Hastens brighter ages on.
The solemn rites let Heaven with favor crown;
The praise receive, nor on the vision frown.
The fair and ancient mother goes,
And on Religion's altar lays
The offering due to Him who all bestows.
Grateful Memory brings her treasures,
Gathered through the centuries gone;
Hope, in sweet, prophetic measures,
Hastens brighter ages on.
The solemn rites let Heaven with favor crown;
The praise receive, nor on the vision frown.
241
Barbarian darkness dwelt
In hopeless night upon the land;
Till England's Pilgrims touched the strand,
And in the forest knelt.
Then light broke in; the kindling dawn
Blushed on mountain, grove, and lawn;
They planted round their growing home
The classic lights of Greece and Rome;
On every hill-top bade to shine
The blesséd cross of Palestine,—
Blended beams of heaven and earth!
Like morning on the mountains spread,
A bright and genial day they shed,
And called the glories of New England forth.
In hopeless night upon the land;
Till England's Pilgrims touched the strand,
And in the forest knelt.
Then light broke in; the kindling dawn
Blushed on mountain, grove, and lawn;
They planted round their growing home
The classic lights of Greece and Rome;
On every hill-top bade to shine
The blesséd cross of Palestine,—
Blended beams of heaven and earth!
Like morning on the mountains spread,
A bright and genial day they shed,
And called the glories of New England forth.
Exalt their honored name!
Heroic founders of the state!
Inscribe their titles with the great,
Who live in deathless fame!
Nor last upon th' immortal scroll
Young Harvard's modest worth enroll;
Let his own halls resound with loud acclaim!
Heroic founders of the state!
Inscribe their titles with the great,
Who live in deathless fame!
Nor last upon th' immortal scroll
Young Harvard's modest worth enroll;
Let his own halls resound with loud acclaim!
Through languid years of pain and gloom,
He faded slow, and early died;
Passed from the altar to the tomb,
And wrought in death the work that life denied.
Stranger in the infant nation
Where he lingered but to die,
Visions of its exaltation
Dawned on his believing eye.
Cheered by the view, serenely smiled the youth,
And gave his little all to Christ and Truth.
He faded slow, and early died;
Passed from the altar to the tomb,
And wrought in death the work that life denied.
Stranger in the infant nation
Where he lingered but to die,
Visions of its exaltation
Dawned on his believing eye.
Cheered by the view, serenely smiled the youth,
And gave his little all to Christ and Truth.
242
O, from that little rill
What soul-enlivening waters flowed,
What peace and hope to man's abode,
What joy to Zion's hill!
As when along the desert land,
Smitten by the prophet's hand,
The rock its gushing torrent sent
To bless the tribes where'er they went.
What soul-enlivening waters flowed,
What peace and hope to man's abode,
What joy to Zion's hill!
As when along the desert land,
Smitten by the prophet's hand,
The rock its gushing torrent sent
To bless the tribes where'er they went.
The years are passed, the fathers gone;
But still the fertile flood rolls on:
Free and glorious be its flow,—
A boundless wave of life and youth,—
Till knowledge, liberty, and truth,
Restore lost Eden to our world below.
But still the fertile flood rolls on:
Free and glorious be its flow,—
A boundless wave of life and youth,—
Till knowledge, liberty, and truth,
Restore lost Eden to our world below.
| The miscellaneous writings of Henry Ware | |