 | The miscellaneous writings of Henry Ware |  |
336
MOUNT WASHINGTON.
Franconia, August 8, 1835.
[OMITTED]
Up! The worst
Is past; the bold rock stands unveiled; and now
One effort more. 'Tis done. Breathless and pale,
We stand upon the peak above the clouds.
Vast and immeasurable! How the eye
Searches the great expanse for rest in vain!
Magnificent obscurity! sublime!
Dim! fathomless! Above, is only heaven
Spread forth o'er all, in deep, pure, lustrous light!
Below, earth—only earth—yet so displayed
As fills the gazing soul with trembling awe.
O, what a place for thought! Give me my cloak,
And leave me here alone. I'll wrap it round
To keep me from the keen, imperious wind,
And hold a moment's musing by myself.
Is past; the bold rock stands unveiled; and now
One effort more. 'Tis done. Breathless and pale,
We stand upon the peak above the clouds.
Vast and immeasurable! How the eye
Searches the great expanse for rest in vain!
Magnificent obscurity! sublime!
Dim! fathomless! Above, is only heaven
Spread forth o'er all, in deep, pure, lustrous light!
Below, earth—only earth—yet so displayed
As fills the gazing soul with trembling awe.
O, what a place for thought! Give me my cloak,
And leave me here alone. I'll wrap it round
To keep me from the keen, imperious wind,
And hold a moment's musing by myself.
And not a human foot within the land
It planted high as mine! Great heaven except,
On all else I look down. That glorious dome,
Unchanged, appears—in beauty, grandeur, pomp,
As unapproached, as unapproachable,
As when I upward gazed from common earth.
I have ascended, yet have not drawn near;
But things of earth, how changed! Man and his works
Are scarce discerned. Yon hills, whose vastness seemed
Immeasurable, lie, beneath my look,
Dwindled to vulgar eminences. Lo!
How they onward roll, like waves at sea,
Less and still less, till in the horizon far
They mingle with the clouds and disappear.
And yonder speck is ocean! infinite, sublime,
Resistless ocean! pride and dread of man!
Now but a glittering thread of twinkling light,
Like a faint lamp reflected from the pool,
So dim, so faint, we doubt if it be there.
What, then, am I—when all earth's mightiness
Thus disappears? Instruct me, awful Teacher,
While from this stand of truth I measure earth
And heaven! instruct me of myself. O, teach,
Teach me to feel that by approach toward Heaven
All things are seen in their own magnitude.
“God seems more grand—man crumbles into dust.”
The pomp of wealth and power, the state, the luxury,
The strife which mad ambition seeks, and earth
Is torn with hot convulsions to attain,
Here show for what they are—hollow and vain—
Even as those clouds, that, floating in mid air,
Send out a glory to the eye below,
But drop their shroud upon the summit rock,
And hide with empty vapor earth and heaven.
Yet in these clouds as truly God resides,
As in the dark pavilion which arrayed
Old Sinai's top—as truly gives a law
To his attendant servant. Lend thine ear,
And hear it—ope thine heart, and honor it—
Bend reverently to its message all thy soul;
And let the lesson thou has gathered here,
In solitary thought and intercourse
With truth and nature, cause thy unveiled soul,
Like Moses' face, to glow with obvious light—
Be a commandment to thy devious step,
And keep thee on thy high, immortal march.—
The body climbs toward heaven in vain—the soul,
If it will climb, may reach and enter in.
It planted high as mine! Great heaven except,
On all else I look down. That glorious dome,
Unchanged, appears—in beauty, grandeur, pomp,
As unapproached, as unapproachable,
337
I have ascended, yet have not drawn near;
But things of earth, how changed! Man and his works
Are scarce discerned. Yon hills, whose vastness seemed
Immeasurable, lie, beneath my look,
Dwindled to vulgar eminences. Lo!
How they onward roll, like waves at sea,
Less and still less, till in the horizon far
They mingle with the clouds and disappear.
And yonder speck is ocean! infinite, sublime,
Resistless ocean! pride and dread of man!
Now but a glittering thread of twinkling light,
Like a faint lamp reflected from the pool,
So dim, so faint, we doubt if it be there.
What, then, am I—when all earth's mightiness
Thus disappears? Instruct me, awful Teacher,
While from this stand of truth I measure earth
And heaven! instruct me of myself. O, teach,
Teach me to feel that by approach toward Heaven
All things are seen in their own magnitude.
“God seems more grand—man crumbles into dust.”
The pomp of wealth and power, the state, the luxury,
The strife which mad ambition seeks, and earth
Is torn with hot convulsions to attain,
Here show for what they are—hollow and vain—
Even as those clouds, that, floating in mid air,
Send out a glory to the eye below,
But drop their shroud upon the summit rock,
And hide with empty vapor earth and heaven.
Yet in these clouds as truly God resides,
As in the dark pavilion which arrayed
Old Sinai's top—as truly gives a law
To his attendant servant. Lend thine ear,
338
Bend reverently to its message all thy soul;
And let the lesson thou has gathered here,
In solitary thought and intercourse
With truth and nature, cause thy unveiled soul,
Like Moses' face, to glow with obvious light—
Be a commandment to thy devious step,
And keep thee on thy high, immortal march.—
The body climbs toward heaven in vain—the soul,
If it will climb, may reach and enter in.
| The miscellaneous writings of Henry Ware | |