 | [The herald, in] The religious souvenir, for MDCCCXXXIX |  |
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THE HERALD.
Light, light to the world! and a herald went forth,
Commission'd by heaven to compass the earth;
He sped o'er the mountains, he traversed the seas,
Unchanged as the rock, and untired as the breeze;
The sand-wither'd deserts in safety he pass'd,
Nor trembled at robber, nor shrunk from the blast;
But where'er was man's dwelling, 'mid sunshine or snows,
On his mission of mercy, unfaltering he goes.
Commission'd by heaven to compass the earth;
He sped o'er the mountains, he traversed the seas,
Unchanged as the rock, and untired as the breeze;
The sand-wither'd deserts in safety he pass'd,
Nor trembled at robber, nor shrunk from the blast;
But where'er was man's dwelling, 'mid sunshine or snows,
On his mission of mercy, unfaltering he goes.
The slave hears his tidings, and smiles in his chain,
The lost son he sends to his Father again;—
No cell is too narrow for him to find room,
He seeks the pale felon ere borne to his doom,
Like the angel of hope, by his side will he stay,
And soothe his deep anguish, and teach him to pray;
—The worn and the weary on him may repose,
And he brings to the mourner a balm for his woes.
The lost son he sends to his Father again;—
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He seeks the pale felon ere borne to his doom,
Like the angel of hope, by his side will he stay,
And soothe his deep anguish, and teach him to pray;
—The worn and the weary on him may repose,
And he brings to the mourner a balm for his woes.
All ages, all stations to him are the same,
He flatters no party, he bows to no name,
But truth to the highest or humblest he brings;
In the tent of the warrior, the palace of kings,
This herald will enter, unawed and alone;
And sin in the hovel, or sin on the throne,
Will feel the rebuke of his heart-searching eye,
Consuming its pleasures like fire from the sky.
He flatters no party, he bows to no name,
But truth to the highest or humblest he brings;
In the tent of the warrior, the palace of kings,
This herald will enter, unawed and alone;
And sin in the hovel, or sin on the throne,
Will feel the rebuke of his heart-searching eye,
Consuming its pleasures like fire from the sky.
On, on, in his course, like a heaven-kindled star!
And his light is diffused o'er the islands afar,
Their idols are smitten, their altars o'erthrown,
And to the blind heathen this herald is known;
The temple of Budha now yields to his power,
Time-hallow'd Pagodas, like reeds of an hour,
Are rock'd to their fall by the breath of his prayer,
As the name of Jehovah he publishes there.
And his light is diffused o'er the islands afar,
Their idols are smitten, their altars o'erthrown,
And to the blind heathen this herald is known;
The temple of Budha now yields to his power,
Time-hallow'd Pagodas, like reeds of an hour,
Are rock'd to their fall by the breath of his prayer,
As the name of Jehovah he publishes there.
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No barrier can stay him, no might can withstand,
The world at his feet, and the heavens in his hand;
All climates he'll visit, all languages speak,
All spirits enlighten, all manacles break;
His sceptre of wisdom the nations shall sway,
As ocean's vast waters the moonbeams obey,
And by him attracted, man's nature shall rise,
Till the anthem of earth joins the song of the skies.
The world at his feet, and the heavens in his hand;
All climates he'll visit, all languages speak,
All spirits enlighten, all manacles break;
His sceptre of wisdom the nations shall sway,
As ocean's vast waters the moonbeams obey,
And by him attracted, man's nature shall rise,
Till the anthem of earth joins the song of the skies.
Do ye ask of his name to enkindle your prayer?
Go, go to your Bible and ponder it there:
The Bible! the Bible! what herald so pure,
With precepts so holy, what promise so sure!
Jehovah's own servant, commission'd to win,
By the love of the Saviour, transgressors from sin;
Thou wonder—thou treasure—O, who, that has heard
Thy voice, can forget thee,—thou life-giving Word!
Go, go to your Bible and ponder it there:
The Bible! the Bible! what herald so pure,
With precepts so holy, what promise so sure!
Jehovah's own servant, commission'd to win,
By the love of the Saviour, transgressors from sin;
Thou wonder—thou treasure—O, who, that has heard
Thy voice, can forget thee,—thou life-giving Word!
Boston.
| [The herald, in] The religious souvenir, for MDCCCXXXIX | |