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64
THE RAINBOW.
Bright Bow, in thy glory, o'erarching yon sky,
With a splendor as pure dost thou shine,
As when first thou wast shown to the Patriarch's eye,
The pledge of a promise Divine!
And can we thus look up, and behold thee, as now,
After storms of past ages appear,
Nor believe, though with sorrow our spirits may bow,
In a God of all joy ever near?
With a splendor as pure dost thou shine,
As when first thou wast shown to the Patriarch's eye,
The pledge of a promise Divine!
And can we thus look up, and behold thee, as now,
After storms of past ages appear,
Nor believe, though with sorrow our spirits may bow,
In a God of all joy ever near?
A bow without arrows, reversed, and unstrung,
Is a token that warfare is o'er;
And above this dim world by our King art thou hung,
A signal of peace evermore.
While serene as thy hues do his attributes blend,
With a glory, like thine, ever new;
Though concealed from our vision, he still is our Friend,
The eternal, unchanging, and true!
Is a token that warfare is o'er;
And above this dim world by our King art thou hung,
A signal of peace evermore.
While serene as thy hues do his attributes blend,
With a glory, like thine, ever new;
Though concealed from our vision, he still is our Friend,
The eternal, unchanging, and true!
Our heavens may be darkened,—the thunder-peals loud,
And the tempest, life's prospect deform;
But 't is He who in love set his “bow in the cloud,”
Whose love comes disguised in the storm.
While the watch-light of Faith our awed bosom illumes,
If her altar-fire steadily burn,
Quickly then, with the rainbow-tints brightening her plumes,
Shall our Dove with the Olive return.
And the tempest, life's prospect deform;
But 't is He who in love set his “bow in the cloud,”
Whose love comes disguised in the storm.
While the watch-light of Faith our awed bosom illumes,
If her altar-fire steadily burn,
Quickly then, with the rainbow-tints brightening her plumes,
Shall our Dove with the Olive return.
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