University of Virginia Library

RELIGIOUS MUSIC.

How doth the Soul on Music's wings arise
To join the hymning Seraphs in the Skies,
Ascending—still ascending—borne above
By strength of zeal—and ecstacy of love!
The Organ peal on peal sends forth sublime,
Till its deep Music seems to pierce Old Time,
To startle him mysteriously, and smite
Upon his awful and destructive flight!
To unveil his shadowy and cloud-mantled brow,
To make him seem one ever present Now—
Shorn of his angry terrors, in that hour,
And taught to yield before a mightier power,
Of all his buried secrets robbed, at once,
And made to utter forth a deep response
To those triumphant sounds, that searching sweep
O'er depths that heavy Silence long did keep!
Like Ocean-treasures dashed by storms on shore,
Behold the mysteries of his ancient lore,
For one keen moment to the Soul revealed,
That clasps within itself Creation's field,
Even while it giveth back its large reply
To the awful thunder-chimes of Harmony,
And rushes back unto the birth of all,
And lifts from Chaos' wastes of gloom the pall,
And forward rushes to the final close,
And the whole truth in one rich rapture knows,
Or feels as though it knew—in that bright mood
By cold dull natures little understood,
Oh! glorious is the Organ's swelling hymn
In ears that never heard the Seraphim
Sing to their Harps of Heaven—for nought beside
Methinks can match its Music's pealing pride!
Eternity, the while those echoes roll,
Crowds with its weight of ages on the Soul—
This World seems rapt and gathered unto thee,
Through this dread charm—thou great Eternity!
A march of Empires rallies round the notes,
A mighty history from the old Silence floats,
And glides into the electrifying tones,
A Vision of long-ruined Fanes and Thrones,
Of royal cities in past times destroyed,
Whose names are nothing—and whose place a void.
Yea! of a bye past World—that startles forth
In its own pristine pride and ancient worth,
Yet all seems to the enraptured Soul to be
As part and portion of the Eternity!
Itself, it soars, beyond the grasp of Time,
And bids all share in its own state sublime,
'Tis then all consciousness, all ear and eye—
New modes of Being seems it then to try
More glorious than it ever tried before,
(But which shall be its own for evermore;
Which yet shall be for evermore its own,
When this frail Frame of things is overthrown,
When this low World lies crushed in its own dust,
And joy eternal crowns the good and just.)
Peal on—peal on thou high and glorious strain,
Thy mighty Music shall not peal in vain;
Oh! not in vain shall those fine concords flow,
They free the heart from long devouring woe,
They break the Soul's too closely clasping chains,
And clear it both of shadows and of stains—
And yet amidst its wildest farthest flight,
Its richest burst of Inspiration's might,
Its noblest and its most etherial mood,
How much of Earth will evermore intrude,
The pride of human triumphs, human sway,
Of human Majesty the proud array,
These still are glimpsed and visioned by the Soul,
These still before its inner sight unroll,
The mighty Anthem swells upon the sense,
A pomp of sound—an angel eloquence,
And there awakes deep dreams of loftiest power,
That soar beyond Time's less than little hour,
Yet with them bear to the awful heights above,
Through vain tenacity of clinging love,
Or haply custom's long-continuing force,
(A current that scarce turneth from its course
Of partial prejudice)—all things known here,
All things that glorious in man's sight appear,
Bear Earth itself, and Earth's chief pomps on high,
Time's triumphs all into the Eternity,
For still their images victorious reign,
Within the working wildered human brain,
And still the winged and fervent human Soul
Escapes from strictest bonds of Time's controul,
In those harmonious and half-Heavenly hours,
When Music stirs the inmost Spirit's powers,
When sacred strains o'erwhelmingly impart
Melodious deep Religion to the heart.