[Poems by Clark in] The religious souvenir a Christmas, New Year's and Birth Day Present for MDCCCXXXIII |
 |
THE PROPHET ELIJAH. |
 | [Poems by Clark in] The religious souvenir |  |
134
THE PROPHET ELIJAH.
Amidst the wilderness, alone,
The sad foe-hunted prophet lay,
And darkening shadows, round him thrown,
Shut out the cheerful smile of day;
The winds were laden with his sighs,
As, resting 'neath a lonely tree,
His spirit, torn with agonies,
In prayer was struggling to be free.
The sad foe-hunted prophet lay,
And darkening shadows, round him thrown,
Shut out the cheerful smile of day;
The winds were laden with his sighs,
As, resting 'neath a lonely tree,
His spirit, torn with agonies,
In prayer was struggling to be free.
For on its prison'd essence, hung
The cumbrous bonds of earth and care;
And, while the branches o'er him flung
Their murmurs to the desert air,
Unbidden longings to depart
Swelled in his pained and wearied breast,
Till, with a supplicating heart,
He prayed to die and be at rest.
The cumbrous bonds of earth and care;
And, while the branches o'er him flung
Their murmurs to the desert air,
Unbidden longings to depart
Swelled in his pained and wearied breast,
Till, with a supplicating heart,
He prayed to die and be at rest.
135
He long'd in heaven's unclouded light
To wave his spirit's ransomed wings,
To bathe them in the effulgence bright
Which from the fount of glory springs;
There were no ties to bind him then,
Beneath the mysteries of the sky,
An outcast from the haunts of men,
Hid, save from God's unslumbering eye.
To wave his spirit's ransomed wings,
To bathe them in the effulgence bright
Which from the fount of glory springs;
There were no ties to bind him then,
Beneath the mysteries of the sky,
An outcast from the haunts of men,
Hid, save from God's unslumbering eye.
He turned from shadows, and the cloud
Which earthly hate had round him spread,
And to a faithful friend he bowed
In humble hope and solemn dread.
He paused—and o'er his senses worn
Sleep's dewy cloud in silence stole,
And radiance, like the gush of morn,
Was poured upon his dreaming soul.
Which earthly hate had round him spread,
And to a faithful friend he bowed
In humble hope and solemn dread.
He paused—and o'er his senses worn
Sleep's dewy cloud in silence stole,
And radiance, like the gush of morn,
Was poured upon his dreaming soul.
And lo! the wide untrodden waste
Around in beauteous splendour glowed;
And, with transcendent beauty graced,
An angel form before him stood;
His voice, like music, charmed the air;
His eyes were kind with light benign;
And in transcendent beauty there
He stood—a messenger divine!
Around in beauteous splendour glowed;
And, with transcendent beauty graced,
An angel form before him stood;
His voice, like music, charmed the air;
His eyes were kind with light benign;
And in transcendent beauty there
He stood—a messenger divine!
136
He spoke of blessings,—and his word,
Which fell upon the dreamer's ear,
Aroused each fainting hope deferred,
While fragrance filled the atmosphere:
Then, like some gorgeous cloud of light,
Dipt in the sunset's golden ray,
The angel took his upward flight,
And melted in the skies away.
Which fell upon the dreamer's ear,
Aroused each fainting hope deferred,
While fragrance filled the atmosphere:
Then, like some gorgeous cloud of light,
Dipt in the sunset's golden ray,
The angel took his upward flight,
And melted in the skies away.
Then, with sweet sleep refreshed and food,
Through many a long, long night and day,
Till Horeb's mount before him stood,
The unwavering prophet went his way;
Then climb'd its summits wild and high,
And linger'd in his lonely cave,
Till, like rich music floating by,
The voice of God its question gave.
Through many a long, long night and day,
Till Horeb's mount before him stood,
The unwavering prophet went his way;
Then climb'd its summits wild and high,
And linger'd in his lonely cave,
Till, like rich music floating by,
The voice of God its question gave.
Then, as he trod the mountain height,
The winds their solemn anthems played,
The earthquake thundered in its might,
And clouds tumultuous o'er him strayed.
What then befel?—a flush of fire—
And then, that father's soothing voice,
Which bids each faithful hope aspire,
And makes the ransomed soul rejoice.
The winds their solemn anthems played,
The earthquake thundered in its might,
And clouds tumultuous o'er him strayed.
What then befel?—a flush of fire—
And then, that father's soothing voice,
Which bids each faithful hope aspire,
And makes the ransomed soul rejoice.
W. G. C.
Philadelphia.
| [Poems by Clark in] The religious souvenir | |