The Sanctuary A Companion in Verse for the English Prayer Book. By Robert Montgomery |
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Nunc Dimittis.
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 | The Sanctuary |  |
Nunc Dimittis.
“Lord, now lettest Thou Thy servant depart in peace, according to Thy word.”
—Luke ii. 29.
Oh! to have watch'd his lifted eye,
Illumed with heaven-born ecstasy
When Simeon clasp'd the awful Child,
And, while he held Him to his heart,
Cried,—“Let Thy servant now depart
For he hath seen Thine Undefiled!”
Illumed with heaven-born ecstasy
When Simeon clasp'd the awful Child,
And, while he held Him to his heart,
Cried,—“Let Thy servant now depart
For he hath seen Thine Undefiled!”
Encradled in his circling arms,
How mused he o'er those infant Charms
That priested Saint of hope and prayer;
And, while he hymn'd forth hallow'd praise,
Centred on heaven a prescient gaze,
And felt his waiting home was—there!
How mused he o'er those infant Charms
That priested Saint of hope and prayer;
And, while he hymn'd forth hallow'd praise,
Centred on heaven a prescient gaze,
And felt his waiting home was—there!
Brimm'd like a wine-cup full and flowing,
The gladden'd spirit, brightly-glowing,
In “Nunc Dimittis” over-ran;
Since, what to him were earth and sense
And all the dream-joys they dispense,
Since now he saw the Hope of Man?
The gladden'd spirit, brightly-glowing,
In “Nunc Dimittis” over-ran;
Since, what to him were earth and sense
And all the dream-joys they dispense,
Since now he saw the Hope of Man?
Type, Promise, and Prediction blend
Here in their true eternal End,—
Christ to forecast, as Woman-born:
What Patriarchs yearn'd by faith to know,
What Prophets soar'd in heaven to show,—
He witness'd on this wondrous morn!
Here in their true eternal End,—
Christ to forecast, as Woman-born:
What Patriarchs yearn'd by faith to know,
What Prophets soar'd in heaven to show,—
He witness'd on this wondrous morn!
35
And yet, this centre-point of Time
Was mark'd by nought men dream sublime,
Which rocks the earth, or rends the air:
A hoary Priest, with sainted mien,
Mother and Babe, alone were seen
Assembled round the Shrine of prayer.
Was mark'd by nought men dream sublime,
Which rocks the earth, or rends the air:
A hoary Priest, with sainted mien,
Mother and Babe, alone were seen
Assembled round the Shrine of prayer.
Thus, secret, silent, sudden, oft
In works below, or ways aloft,
God moves o'er some mysterious line
Converging round Salvation's plan,
Decreed for everlasting Man
In viewless depths of Will Divine.
In works below, or ways aloft,
God moves o'er some mysterious line
Converging round Salvation's plan,
Decreed for everlasting Man
In viewless depths of Will Divine.
And grant, O Lord! whene'er they kneel
Around Thine Altar, souls may feel
Though all seems noiseless, lone, and still,—
E'en while they ponder, mourn, or pray,
Commission'd Angels wing their way
Some hidden purpose to fulfil.
Around Thine Altar, souls may feel
Though all seems noiseless, lone, and still,—
E'en while they ponder, mourn, or pray,
Commission'd Angels wing their way
Some hidden purpose to fulfil.
Barr'd in by sense, profanely-blind,
The world-slave with his sunken mind
God's marching Host can never track;
But Saints, encamp'd along the skies
Can see seraphic Armies rise
To hurl, or hold, His Thunder back!
The world-slave with his sunken mind
God's marching Host can never track;
But Saints, encamp'd along the skies
Can see seraphic Armies rise
To hurl, or hold, His Thunder back!
The seeing eye, the hearing ear,
Bestow, O Lord! that life's career
Inspired may be with inward awe,—
That welcomes through each tranquil hour
Thy Dove, in His descending power,
Like that the sacred Jordan saw.
Bestow, O Lord! that life's career
Inspired may be with inward awe,—
That welcomes through each tranquil hour
Thy Dove, in His descending power,
Like that the sacred Jordan saw.
Yet, few to Thee, themselves dare give:
Earth seems so bright,—they long to live;
The grave so dark,—they dread to die;
But, Simeon-like, Lord, let us see
A heaven of love in loving Thee,
And calm would heave our closing sigh!
Earth seems so bright,—they long to live;
The grave so dark,—they dread to die;
But, Simeon-like, Lord, let us see
A heaven of love in loving Thee,
And calm would heave our closing sigh!
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Clasp we but Christ within the heart,
And then,—“Lord! let us now depart”
Will deeply rise from many a soul:
With “Nunc Dimittis” our last breath
Shall waft us o'er the gulph of Death
To where no shades of darkness roll.
And then,—“Lord! let us now depart”
Will deeply rise from many a soul:
With “Nunc Dimittis” our last breath
Shall waft us o'er the gulph of Death
To where no shades of darkness roll.
| The Sanctuary | |