The Exhortation.
“I pray and beseech you, ------ to accompany me with a pure
heart, and humble voice, unto the throne of the heavenly grace.”
—Prayer Book.
Creation is a speech divine,
A vast Apocalypse of power,
A Sermon preach'd, O God! on Thee, and Thine
In Earth's cathedral, ev'ry hour.
Magnificent, though mute to sense,
Such homilies from Land, and Sea;
Yet, all are lectures from Omnipotence
Whose texts are truths on Deity.
And Providence Thy preacher is,
Whose pulpit fills all space and time;
And, eloquent of varied woe, or bliss,
Harangues us with a tone sublime!
Around, within, beneath, above,
Nature's dim Bible ev'rywhere
Authenticates a dawning creed of Love,
Learnt by some lisping babe in prayer.
But, harshly-cold, our riper years
Are seldom touch'd by such appeals;
And hearts, when sin hath shut the inward ears,
Seem deaf to what pure childhood feels.
And hence, the Exhortation rolls
With rhetoric divine, or deep,
A thrilling summons o'er baptisèd souls
Who yet in sin-made darkness sleep!
And be confession our reply,
Oh, Saviour-God!—for such is due;
Pierced by love-pangs, and with imploring eye
Look we to heaven, and inly rue!
The past and present none can hide,
Nor cloak the shrinking heart from Thee:—
Clear as the mote within some beam descried,
All souls are scann'd by Deity!
