 | The miscellaneous writings of Henry Ware |  |
342
RED HILL.
Then reverently we bared our heads, and stood;
And from that holy bard, whose sightless eye
Beheld the wonders of the Invisible,
We raised the hymn so worthy Paradise,
In its pure early worship. With the words
I trust our hearts rose up; the morning wind
Bore them, like incense, upward, and there seemed
A soul of deep devotion breathed abroad
On all the things we saw: they heard the call,
The eloquent call, of Milton and of God,
And uttered praise. The sun and clouds in heaven
Heard, as they rose above us, and replied;
The lake responded with her thousand isles;
The mountains, that encompassed us around,
Near and more distant, seemed to bow assent;
The birds joined harmony; the lowing kine,
The waving trees, the lowly herb beneath
Our feet, with burden of rich fruit, and last
The scattered hamlets, whose ascending smokes
Showed human life awaking to the day,—
All seemed to hear and join the act of praise.
So to our hearts it seemed, so full, so warm.
So loud, the burst of holy praise rung forth
In words that reach and rouse the inmost soul
Of nature, as of man,—the general soul
That fills and vivifies whate'er exists.
And from that holy bard, whose sightless eye
Beheld the wonders of the Invisible,
We raised the hymn so worthy Paradise,
In its pure early worship. With the words
I trust our hearts rose up; the morning wind
Bore them, like incense, upward, and there seemed
A soul of deep devotion breathed abroad
On all the things we saw: they heard the call,
The eloquent call, of Milton and of God,
And uttered praise. The sun and clouds in heaven
Heard, as they rose above us, and replied;
The lake responded with her thousand isles;
The mountains, that encompassed us around,
Near and more distant, seemed to bow assent;
The birds joined harmony; the lowing kine,
The waving trees, the lowly herb beneath
Our feet, with burden of rich fruit, and last
The scattered hamlets, whose ascending smokes
Showed human life awaking to the day,—
All seemed to hear and join the act of praise.
So to our hearts it seemed, so full, so warm.
So loud, the burst of holy praise rung forth
In words that reach and rouse the inmost soul
343
That fills and vivifies whate'er exists.
'Tis well to worship where the pomp of man
Intrudes not. So infirm are we, so bound
In chains of sense, that crowded chapels, throngs
Of dressed adorers, bursts of choral song,
The formal, eloquent routine of praise,
Sometimes excite, sometimes distract, confound,
Or dissipate the soul.
'Tis well to know that piety
Draws its best nutriment from solitude,
Withdrawn from man, in secret intercourse
With man's Creator; on the mountain-top,
Beside the waterfall, within the dark
And silent forest, on the midnight bed,
Within the chambers of the secret mind,
Where no eye pierces, no ear listens, save
That of the indwelling spirit, which pervades,
And moves, and blesses all. Then worship grows
A holy, heavenly thing; th' unfettered soul,
Emancipate from earth, no more disturbed
With others' thoughts, nor bound to tread
The path by others signified, springs free,
Exalted, spiritualized, and carries back
To earth and life a fragrance and a strength
That earth gives not, and that prepares for heaven.
Intrudes not. So infirm are we, so bound
In chains of sense, that crowded chapels, throngs
Of dressed adorers, bursts of choral song,
The formal, eloquent routine of praise,
Sometimes excite, sometimes distract, confound,
Or dissipate the soul.
'Tis well to know that piety
Draws its best nutriment from solitude,
Withdrawn from man, in secret intercourse
With man's Creator; on the mountain-top,
Beside the waterfall, within the dark
And silent forest, on the midnight bed,
Within the chambers of the secret mind,
Where no eye pierces, no ear listens, save
That of the indwelling spirit, which pervades,
And moves, and blesses all. Then worship grows
A holy, heavenly thing; th' unfettered soul,
Emancipate from earth, no more disturbed
With others' thoughts, nor bound to tread
The path by others signified, springs free,
Exalted, spiritualized, and carries back
To earth and life a fragrance and a strength
That earth gives not, and that prepares for heaven.
Such Sabbath is not lost; and, from the mount
When we descended, with the little flock
That gathers in an humble, upper room,
Like that, perchance, wherein Paul preached, we, too,
Were found. A touching sight, thus far from home,
Amid the wild hills, to behold a few,
Summoned at call of Him who rules the earth
As King, and numbers millions for his own,
In every age and nation, bending down
In prayer, and listening to the word of life;—
A fragment of the universal church;
Pondering upon the thoughts which make the joy
Of spirits in heaven, and urged to find, like them,
Their happiness in glorifying God.
How truly came from Heaven a messenger
Like this,—how surely leads to Heaven.
When we descended, with the little flock
That gathers in an humble, upper room,
Like that, perchance, wherein Paul preached, we, too,
Were found. A touching sight, thus far from home,
Amid the wild hills, to behold a few,
Summoned at call of Him who rules the earth
344
In every age and nation, bending down
In prayer, and listening to the word of life;—
A fragment of the universal church;
Pondering upon the thoughts which make the joy
Of spirits in heaven, and urged to find, like them,
Their happiness in glorifying God.
How truly came from Heaven a messenger
Like this,—how surely leads to Heaven.
| The miscellaneous writings of Henry Ware | |