The poems and prose writings of Sumner Lincoln Fairfield ::

To me less hallowed, high and awful seem
The rites and rituals of these our days,
When hollow forms and ceremonies hide
Hearts stained by guile, that murmur while they praise,
And lip humility and swell with pride,
Whose faith is false as youth's fantastic dream,
Than that pure worship of the olden Time,
When from the dim wild stream or lonely height
The Chaldean Shepherd read the spheres sublime,
The starry glories of untravelled space,
Where the wing'd seraphim, in countless choirs,
Hymn'd the Immortal and his love and grace,
Blessing the spirit, that from earth aspires,
To flowery realms of everlasting light.

In the far orient climes of living bloom,
Where rosy earth and starry heaven unite,
How blest the luxuries of solemn thought,
The dreams and oracles, that, born of night,
O'er the rapt spirit breathed and in it wrought
A deep and sacred triumph o'er the tomb—
The tomb, that then knew not the searching light
Of Shiloh's holy, all atoning smile!
While round him slept his flocks, from some far height
The solitary watcher gazed afar
On the vast mysteries, that rolled above,
And saw in every bright revolving star
Beauty of holiness and peace and love,
That soothed and sanctified his mortal toil.

Then came the morn and evening offerings
Of the first fruits upon the forest shrine—
A simple sacrifice of reverent praise
And humble heart and gratitude divine.

271

Oh, how unlike these proud corrupted days,
When dark hypocrisy in triumph brings
Its gifts, and bids high heaven behold the deed!
In the young ages of the earthly Life,
The husbandman accounted not his seed
Fruitful until his sacrifice was done;
The warrior prayed before the ark, ere war;
The king, ere judgement; and beneath the sun,
Love, prayer and praise were wafted from afar,
And every heart with holy hope was rife.

Not idle words from faithless tongues alone,
But trying deeds, these proved the hearts of men:
A Father offered up the world's Young Heir!
And incense rose from many a lonely glen,
When daggered danger stood beside despair,
And hope did fail, and succour there seem'd none.
But trials lost their bitterness when Earth
Seemed to the true the golden gate of Heaven,
And angel shapes from the blue sky came forth
And listened to man's all confiding prayer;
For VIRTUE had a refuge, and the heart,
That trusted, never sank into despair,
As it had found that higher, better part
To gentle, generous, noble spirits given.

Man with his Monarch and his Maker held
Communion in the elder years of love,
And throned seraphim unsinning kept
Guard o'er the son of earth in every grove,
Whether he toiled a field, or safely slept
Lone in the branching melancholy weald.
And Truth was then the sovereign of the mind,
And Charity man's best and only creed,
And kindly offices true hearts could bind
And social men, more strongly than the stern
And blasting laws of these our dungeon days.
Ah! man must live his threescore years to learn
Earth is corrupt in all its countless ways,
And evil Knowledge is his bitter meed.

272

Those solemn, simple, hallowed days are gone,
The Glory's vanished from the Cherubim,
And Shrines and Oracles have passed away!
But, oh, I love to gaze upon the dim
And shadowy beauty of that elder day
In saddened silence mid the wood alone,
And image the old Partriarch by his shrine
Kindling amidst the forest his pure fire
On sacrificial fruits and clustering vine;
For unto me such lonely worship brings
Higher and holier thoughts than our proud forms
Of pomp mid throngs whose varied aspect flings
The world's cold shade o'er every prayer, that warms
And bids the heart in holy hope aspire.

University of Virginia Library

ANCIENT WORSHIP.