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ODE TO DEITY.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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ODE TO DEITY.

Eternal Monad! Great Invisible!
Essence incontaminate of Glory!
High chainless Mind pervading heaven and hell,
Spheres countless, systems sublime! The story
Of thy Being, oh! how grand! far beyond
Conception's airy flight, and soaring thought,
Is thy imperial grandeur, yet fond
Is mind ethereal to portray ought,
That can in visions dim but image Life
All unoriginated—with heaven rise.
Mysterious Triad! Jehovah,
Saviour, Comforter! throned in unity!
O'er the wide heaven's aerial plains afar,
Bright orbs concentric in a golden sky,
Their laudatory smile enkindles bloom,
While at the frown from the immortal throne
Heaven quakes—and hell, the living tomb
Of spirits apostate, is voiceless, lone,
And o'er this sphere the forked lightning flies,
And intonating thunders shake the skies.
The genealogic chronicles of Time,
Titanian pyramids, and all the pride
Of mausoleums, storied with the rhyme
Encomiastic of earth's lords, who died

160

In victory's thousand arms—shall fade—shall cease
To shrine the godless Ammon—and the dust
Of forms embalmed in myrrh no more in peace
Oblivious shall slumber—time will burst
The mansion of eternal fame—in vain
Their ashes canopy the rolling main!
But Thou art linked with wide Eternity,
Eternity itself thou art! no space
Impedes thy sunlike vision—no dark sky
Obnubilates thy brightness! Gentle grace
And majesty upon thy visage blend,
Like golden floods with sapphire skies at eve,
And forth thy diamond sceptre, waved, doth send
Winged spirits base-born man to cheer, or grieve,
Heralding, where'er they move, Thy name,
Or robed in mercy, or wide wasting flame.
Before my swimming vision lay the plains
Of the highest heaven—and the Presence there
Irradiates my sight—afar the strains
Of angels, breathed upon the fanning air,
Concentrate in one enraptured symphony
Around the viewless throne—the ransomed saint,
On earth a homeless, houseless wanderer by
The revelling mansion, in notes not faint,
And tremulous, joins high devotion's song,
But sounds the anthem listening heavens along.
Oh! spotless, stainless is the flowing robe,
That wraps the disembodied spirit—fair
Is the lustre of that unclouded globe,
That doth in undecaying beauty wear

161

The vestures, flung by holy Being round
Its vaulted skies.—But, thou Supreme! O what am I?
A praiseless creature unto baubles bound,
A poor ephemera—but born to die,
A being fond of mingled joy and pain!
Ah! no! a spirit called to live and reign.
Ineffable are thy glories, unconfined
By worlds celestial, that far stretch beyond
The eye of fancy—piercing is thy mind,
Creation's luminary—suns respond
The flash, that kindles into life each sphere!
Yet Thou dost deign in mediatorial love,
And mild benignity deathless to wear
A brow of soft complacency above;—
And the refraction of thy glory shines
Through human breasts in bright interminable lines.
As the fell tarantula at the sound
Of lyric wires coils in innocent glee,
And winds its way in playfulness around,
So warring passions, when the Deity
But smiles, subside in waveless, gentle Peace;—
O Thou Omnipotent! with Thee to dwell,
Is heaven—is full beatitude—ne'er cease
Thine everlasting glories. No farewell,
That wild, that rending word! the spirit yields
To Him, who lives in bliss—and ceaseless ages gilds.