 | Poems, original and translated |  |
THE TRUE LIGHT.
“Truly the light is sweet,” the Preacher says.
“Truly the light is sweet,” my heart replies.
Sweet is the very memory of the days
Whose morn and evening light once blessed my eyes.
“Truly the light is sweet,” my heart replies.
Sweet is the very memory of the days
Whose morn and evening light once blessed my eyes.
Pleasant it is, and goodly, to behold
The flower of day unfold from bud to bloom;
Or noontide bathe the world in molten gold;
Or eve's lost fire, ere yet it sinks in gloom.
The flower of day unfold from bud to bloom;
Or noontide bathe the world in molten gold;
Or eve's lost fire, ere yet it sinks in gloom.
And oh! how sweet to see the stars arise,
As, one by one, each faint and twinkling spark,
From its far home in the unfathomed skies,
Swells the vast host that lightens all the dark.
As, one by one, each faint and twinkling spark,
From its far home in the unfathomed skies,
Swells the vast host that lightens all the dark.
“Truly the light is sweet,” for God is light:
Each ray a beam from his eternal eye;
And in the sweet, mysterious power of sight,
My soul a kindred feels with worlds on high.
Each ray a beam from his eternal eye;
And in the sweet, mysterious power of sight,
My soul a kindred feels with worlds on high.
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But sweetest is thy light, O Truth Divine!
Thy light, O Sun of Righteousness and Grace!
That shows God's writing on this heart of mine,
And lifts on woe's dark sea the Father's face.
Thy light, O Sun of Righteousness and Grace!
That shows God's writing on this heart of mine,
And lifts on woe's dark sea the Father's face.
| Poems, original and translated | |