 | The Choir and The Oratory |  |
1
THE TONGUES OF EARTH.
“And how hear we every man in our own tongue wherein we
were born?.....We do hear them speak in our tongues the
wonderful works of God.”—Aets ii. 8. 11.
When shall every tribe have heard,
So proclaimed, the saving word?
When, O when, in every tongue
Shall Jehovah's praise be sung?
So proclaimed, the saving word?
When, O when, in every tongue
Shall Jehovah's praise be sung?
O thou ancient Syrian speech!
Once all nations thou couldst teach.
Pristine mother tongue of all
Who Our Father Abba call;
Voice of oracles Divine;
Vehicle of might benign,
When, as never mortal spoke,
Accents from the Saviour broke,
Which the deaf, the lifeless, heard;—
Storms and demons owned his word.
Where is all thy vigour fled?
Now, a whisper from the dead!
When, instinct with life again,
Shall thy pure and hallowed strain
Be articulate and strong,
'Mid the Church's general song?
Who but Judah may aspire
To lead the many-voiced quire?
Once all nations thou couldst teach.
Pristine mother tongue of all
Who Our Father Abba call;
Voice of oracles Divine;
Vehicle of might benign,
When, as never mortal spoke,
Accents from the Saviour broke,
Which the deaf, the lifeless, heard;—
Storms and demons owned his word.
2
Now, a whisper from the dead!
When, instinct with life again,
Shall thy pure and hallowed strain
Be articulate and strong,
'Mid the Church's general song?
Who but Judah may aspire
To lead the many-voiced quire?
Next, with classic graces deck'd,
Glorious Attic dialect,
Breathing of the honeyed clime,
Sweetest voice of elder Time;
Vocal still in Homer's measures;
Rich in all the Muse's treasures:
But still sweeter and more dear,
Though untuned to pedant's ear,
Blended with the phrase Divine
Of the speech of Palestine,—
Charged with all Apostles taught,
Glowing with inspired thought:
Long, too long thy voice has slept!
On that orient clime has crept
Darkness; and barbaric sounds
Vex the Levant's hallowed bounds.
Who the soul of Greece shall wake?
When shall Heaven's own morning break
On the native realms of light,
Long consign'd to Turkish night?
Harp of Greece, wake up thy voice:
Bid thy many isles rejoice.
See the sinking Crescent fades,
'Mid the fast contracting shades.
Wake, but not as erst, to praise
Dian's beam or Phœbus' rays.
No, nor let the Virgin be
Queen of thine idolatry.
Let thine isle-bestudded sea,
Let thy grove-embosom'd hills,
Let thy mountains and thy rills,
Hear their Maker's praise once more
Echoed round from shore to shore,
And the Son of God alone
Be as Lord and Saviour known.
Glorious Attic dialect,
Breathing of the honeyed clime,
Sweetest voice of elder Time;
Vocal still in Homer's measures;
Rich in all the Muse's treasures:
But still sweeter and more dear,
Though untuned to pedant's ear,
Blended with the phrase Divine
Of the speech of Palestine,—
Charged with all Apostles taught,
Glowing with inspired thought:
3
On that orient clime has crept
Darkness; and barbaric sounds
Vex the Levant's hallowed bounds.
Who the soul of Greece shall wake?
When shall Heaven's own morning break
On the native realms of light,
Long consign'd to Turkish night?
Harp of Greece, wake up thy voice:
Bid thy many isles rejoice.
See the sinking Crescent fades,
'Mid the fast contracting shades.
Wake, but not as erst, to praise
Dian's beam or Phœbus' rays.
No, nor let the Virgin be
Queen of thine idolatry.
Let thine isle-bestudded sea,
Let thy grove-embosom'd hills,
Let thy mountains and thy rills,
Hear their Maker's praise once more
Echoed round from shore to shore,
4
Be as Lord and Saviour known.
When, Oh when, in every tongue,
Shall Jehovah's praise be sung?
Libya's coast is silent now.
Church of Egypt, what art thou?
Long the vital spark has fled,
Mummy of the antique dead.
To the dead their burial give:
Who shall make these dry bones live?
Thebes, upon thy storied plain,
Guarding still his ruined fane,
Thy Titanic Memnon sits;
But no more his harp emits
Sounds that hail the rising day,
Kindled by the genial ray.
Yet, before that mount of stone
Shall be utterly o'erthrown,
On those dark though cloudless skies
Shall a brighter day-star rise.
Shall Jehovah's praise be sung?
Libya's coast is silent now.
Church of Egypt, what art thou?
Long the vital spark has fled,
Mummy of the antique dead.
To the dead their burial give:
Who shall make these dry bones live?
Thebes, upon thy storied plain,
Guarding still his ruined fane,
Thy Titanic Memnon sits;
But no more his harp emits
Sounds that hail the rising day,
Kindled by the genial ray.
Yet, before that mount of stone
Shall be utterly o'erthrown,
On those dark though cloudless skies
Shall a brighter day-star rise.
5
Wakened from his stony trance,
By that heavenly radiance,
Memnon's harp shall breathe again;
Nile shall hear the magic strain.
Then Osiris shall return;
Then shall hideous Typhon learn
Meek submission at his voice,
And the desert shall rejoice.
From the Thebaid's savage glens,
Peopled graves and monkish dens,
Blind devotion's last retreats,—
From Kahira's motley streets,
From the Delta's teeming plains,
Shall be heard exultant strains:
Hallelujah! Jesus reigns.
By that heavenly radiance,
Memnon's harp shall breathe again;
Nile shall hear the magic strain.
Then Osiris shall return;
Then shall hideous Typhon learn
Meek submission at his voice,
And the desert shall rejoice.
From the Thebaid's savage glens,
Peopled graves and monkish dens,
Blind devotion's last retreats,—
From Kahira's motley streets,
From the Delta's teeming plains,
Shall be heard exultant strains:
Hallelujah! Jesus reigns.
Now, alas! with Allah's name,
His, Arabia's pride and shame,
Islam's turbaned priests proclaim.
Far that twilight faith has spread,
Moonlight on gross darkness shed.
His, Arabia's pride and shame,
Islam's turbaned priests proclaim.
Far that twilight faith has spread,
Moonlight on gross darkness shed.
6
Northward, far o'er Scythia's waste
By the snowy range embraced,
Till by denser gloom repelled,
Where, in passive dotage held,
Nations of the Outer East
Worship Buddha's idol priest.
Persia and her Turkish lord,
By the Ottoman abhorred,
(Quench'd the Magian's mystic flame,)
Swear by Ali's sainted name.
Allah's Lion! thou the field
To the Lamb of God shalt yield.
Miscalled phantom, thou shalt fade
To the shadow of a shade,
When on Persia's darkened skies
Bethlehem's Star once more shall rise.
Harp of Hafiz, long unstrung,
On the mournful willows hung,
Then shall every joyful chord
Swell the praises of the Lord.
Elam's mountain tribes shall hear;
The fierce Koord shall drop his spear,
And the wandering Turkman rude
Then forego his nation's feud.
Turk and Arab, Persian, Mede,
Bonded in one purer creed,
Shall, on Shinar's ancient plain,
Speak one common tongue again;
Ishmael refuse no more
Judah's Offspring to adore;
To the promised seed of Sem,
Yafet yield his diadem.
He must reign till at his feet
All the tribes of Earth shall meet.
By the snowy range embraced,
Till by denser gloom repelled,
Where, in passive dotage held,
Nations of the Outer East
Worship Buddha's idol priest.
Persia and her Turkish lord,
By the Ottoman abhorred,
(Quench'd the Magian's mystic flame,)
Swear by Ali's sainted name.
Allah's Lion! thou the field
To the Lamb of God shalt yield.
Miscalled phantom, thou shalt fade
To the shadow of a shade,
When on Persia's darkened skies
Bethlehem's Star once more shall rise.
Harp of Hafiz, long unstrung,
On the mournful willows hung,
Then shall every joyful chord
Swell the praises of the Lord.
Elam's mountain tribes shall hear;
The fierce Koord shall drop his spear,
7
Then forego his nation's feud.
Turk and Arab, Persian, Mede,
Bonded in one purer creed,
Shall, on Shinar's ancient plain,
Speak one common tongue again;
Ishmael refuse no more
Judah's Offspring to adore;
To the promised seed of Sem,
Yafet yield his diadem.
He must reign till at his feet
All the tribes of Earth shall meet.
Though not yet the saving word
All the tribes of Earth have heard,
One by one, to Truth subdued,
Dialects, polite or rude,
Are with slow reluctance taught
Utterance of inspired thought.
All the tribes of Earth have heard,
One by one, to Truth subdued,
Dialects, polite or rude,
Are with slow reluctance taught
Utterance of inspired thought.
Greece was barbarous, Athens young,
Homer, Hesiod had not sung,
When in Cashmere's lofty plain
Brahma's sages held their reign.
Thence their sacred language flowed,
Boodha's lore and Menu's code.
Greece has had her glorious day;
Rome, her greatness and decay;
Light has visited the earth;
Life Eternal has had birth;
Darkness has that light displaced,
Death the faithless Church embraced;
Mecca's locust cloud has spread
Penal barrenness and dread,
From the Ister's turbid course,
To where Ganges rolls her force.
Through that long and changeful past,
Spell-bound in the chains of caste,
India, still unchanged, untaught,
Calls on Ram or Juggernaut,
Or invokes with rite obscene
Seeva or his skull-decked queen.
But the light on India breaks:
Error's hideous fabric shakes;
And the demons crouch before
That dread Name the heavens adore.
In his polished tongue revealed,
(Long to western knowledge sealed,)
The proud Brahmin now may read
Mysteries of a purer creed,
Which shall make the man of pride
Fling his cherished cord aside.
In the sacred Pali leaves,
Boodha's votary now receives
Truth his pulseless heart shall own,
Breathing life into the stone.
Lo! a greater miracle!
China's mute enigmas tell
All the speaking Scriptures teach;
While, proclaimed in living speech,
Her amphibious wanderers hear
Words of life. Though jealous fear
Close her ports, and guard her wall,
Truth must enter, Error fall
Prone before the Cross, and then
Her automata be men.
Homer, Hesiod had not sung,
8
Brahma's sages held their reign.
Thence their sacred language flowed,
Boodha's lore and Menu's code.
Greece has had her glorious day;
Rome, her greatness and decay;
Light has visited the earth;
Life Eternal has had birth;
Darkness has that light displaced,
Death the faithless Church embraced;
Mecca's locust cloud has spread
Penal barrenness and dread,
From the Ister's turbid course,
To where Ganges rolls her force.
Through that long and changeful past,
Spell-bound in the chains of caste,
India, still unchanged, untaught,
Calls on Ram or Juggernaut,
Or invokes with rite obscene
Seeva or his skull-decked queen.
But the light on India breaks:
Error's hideous fabric shakes;
9
That dread Name the heavens adore.
In his polished tongue revealed,
(Long to western knowledge sealed,)
The proud Brahmin now may read
Mysteries of a purer creed,
Which shall make the man of pride
Fling his cherished cord aside.
In the sacred Pali leaves,
Boodha's votary now receives
Truth his pulseless heart shall own,
Breathing life into the stone.
Lo! a greater miracle!
China's mute enigmas tell
All the speaking Scriptures teach;
While, proclaimed in living speech,
Her amphibious wanderers hear
Words of life. Though jealous fear
Close her ports, and guard her wall,
Truth must enter, Error fall
Prone before the Cross, and then
Her automata be men.
10
When, Oh when, in every tongue,
Shall Jehovah's praise be sung?
While the Earth is hush'd in sleep,
Morning wakes along the deep,
From the scattered tribes of Ocean,
New-taught strains of pure devotion.
O ye multitude of isles,
Basking under summer's smiles,
You have heard the heavenly voice
Bid your palmy shores rejoice.
Far as your soft idiom spreads
O'er the ocean's coral beds,
From Malaya to Peru,
Linking old worlds with the new,—
Northward to where Hawai-i
Rears her Etna from the sea,
Southward where her many bays
Zealand's triple isle displays,—
Let the Word of Truth and Grace
Moloch's horrid rites displace:
Till, subdued to Him, whose will
Waves obey and winds fulfil,
Frantic passions shall be still;
Murderous wars and feuds shall cease;
And those seas, when arts of peace
Ocean's wilder tribes shall tame,
Be pacific as their name.
Shall Jehovah's praise be sung?
While the Earth is hush'd in sleep,
Morning wakes along the deep,
From the scattered tribes of Ocean,
New-taught strains of pure devotion.
O ye multitude of isles,
Basking under summer's smiles,
You have heard the heavenly voice
Bid your palmy shores rejoice.
Far as your soft idiom spreads
O'er the ocean's coral beds,
From Malaya to Peru,
Linking old worlds with the new,—
Northward to where Hawai-i
Rears her Etna from the sea,
Southward where her many bays
Zealand's triple isle displays,—
Let the Word of Truth and Grace
Moloch's horrid rites displace:
Till, subdued to Him, whose will
11
Frantic passions shall be still;
Murderous wars and feuds shall cease;
And those seas, when arts of peace
Ocean's wilder tribes shall tame,
Be pacific as their name.
Soon shall every tribe have heard
In their tongue the saving word.
East and West, and South and North,
Britain's heralds have gone forth:
Britain, whose imperial reign,
Like the globe-encircling main,
Borders, bounds, connects, controls
All the world between the poles:
Heart of commerce, power's true source,
Swaying by her moral force,
All within her intercourse.
Sceptred isle; the ocean's throne;
Jewel of his azure zone!
Fortress reared by Liberty,
Bound with the triumphant sea!
Blessed spot! Truth's hallowed seat!
Once Religion's last retreat,
Till, again exiled, she made
Western worlds her home, and bade
Cities there to states arise:
Now, the banded colonies,
To a second England grown,
Call the New World half their own.
England! name to me how dear!
Sweeter to my filial ear,
Thy rough flow, my mother tongue,
Than the softest vespers sung
To Adrian or Sicilian sea,
Or than Grecian euphony.
'Mid the dialects of earth
Youngest thou, of mingled birth,
From the old Teutonic race,
Wedded to the Roman grace;
Schooled thy rude and vigorous youth
In the oracles of truth;
Tuned to harmony sublime;
Dowried with the wealth of time;
To thine empire is assigned
The supremacy of mind.
Modern science, ancient lore,
Stamp their mintage on thine ore;
For thy pliant phrase is wrought
Into every mould of thought;
Copious rhetoric, wisdom terse,
Bacon's science, Milton's verse;
All that sacred schools impart;
Hymns, the ritual of the heart.
Shall this language ever die?
No, commissioned from on high,
O'er both hemispheres its spread
Breathes new life into the dead;—
Pours a stream of living light
O'er the realms of ancient night;
Wakes the mute, and tunes the rude;
Fills with joy the solitude,
Where to barbarous rites succeed
Britain's laws and Britain's creed.
O ye sons of Britain, raise
High as heaven your songs of praise.
Bid the earth, the sky, the main,
Echo back the joyful strain,
Till the slumbering nations round
Wake, and swell the choral sound.
In all languages proclaim
To all tribes the Saviour's name,
Till his universal sway
All dominions shall obey,
And in each accordant tongue,
Lamb of God, thy praise be sung!
In their tongue the saving word.
East and West, and South and North,
Britain's heralds have gone forth:
Britain, whose imperial reign,
Like the globe-encircling main,
Borders, bounds, connects, controls
All the world between the poles:
Heart of commerce, power's true source,
Swaying by her moral force,
All within her intercourse.
Sceptred isle; the ocean's throne;
Jewel of his azure zone!
Fortress reared by Liberty,
Bound with the triumphant sea!
12
Once Religion's last retreat,
Till, again exiled, she made
Western worlds her home, and bade
Cities there to states arise:
Now, the banded colonies,
To a second England grown,
Call the New World half their own.
England! name to me how dear!
Sweeter to my filial ear,
Thy rough flow, my mother tongue,
Than the softest vespers sung
To Adrian or Sicilian sea,
Or than Grecian euphony.
'Mid the dialects of earth
Youngest thou, of mingled birth,
From the old Teutonic race,
Wedded to the Roman grace;
Schooled thy rude and vigorous youth
In the oracles of truth;
Tuned to harmony sublime;
Dowried with the wealth of time;
13
The supremacy of mind.
Modern science, ancient lore,
Stamp their mintage on thine ore;
For thy pliant phrase is wrought
Into every mould of thought;
Copious rhetoric, wisdom terse,
Bacon's science, Milton's verse;
All that sacred schools impart;
Hymns, the ritual of the heart.
Shall this language ever die?
No, commissioned from on high,
O'er both hemispheres its spread
Breathes new life into the dead;—
Pours a stream of living light
O'er the realms of ancient night;
Wakes the mute, and tunes the rude;
Fills with joy the solitude,
Where to barbarous rites succeed
Britain's laws and Britain's creed.
O ye sons of Britain, raise
High as heaven your songs of praise.
14
Echo back the joyful strain,
Till the slumbering nations round
Wake, and swell the choral sound.
In all languages proclaim
To all tribes the Saviour's name,
Till his universal sway
All dominions shall obey,
And in each accordant tongue,
Lamb of God, thy praise be sung!
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