The poetical works of Henry Alford Fifth edition, containing many pieces now first collected |
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 | The poetical works of Henry Alford |  |
III.
I search the heavens and earth for news of thee,
But find them not. That sunlit continent
Hung in mid-air, that with transmitted light
Gladdens this peaceful night, is that thy home?
Abidest thou where bright and pale by turns
Her hills and plains gleam evident? Art thou
Among the thousand times ten thousand saints
There stationed, till He come, and we arise
To meet Him, when He brings ye in the air?
But find them not. That sunlit continent
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Gladdens this peaceful night, is that thy home?
Abidest thou where bright and pale by turns
Her hills and plains gleam evident? Art thou
Among the thousand times ten thousand saints
There stationed, till He come, and we arise
To meet Him, when He brings ye in the air?
Nor shrink I from such questioning. His works
Who framed the wondrous universe, by rule
And due apportionment are fitted all,
Each to its separate use. And that pure isle
Of treasured light, journeying with this our earth,
Wherefore thus waits it on the world of man?
Say, to give light by night; but wherefore then
So scant, and intermitted? Say, to swell
The tides salubrious, and to air, sun-dried,
Restore its genial moisture. But nor this
Seems to suffice. Hath that fair-fashioned world
No tributary use for this world's lord?
Doth it no purpose serve for man? If life,
Life various and material, there were fed
As here below, then would the varying clouds
Dapple her argent surface, and pale belts
Of fleecy mist athwart her orb extend,
Which are not found. Material life and growth,
Nourished as here, is none. If living tribes
Are there, then live they by some law unknown
To us, whom tillage of the moistened soil
Feeds, on the succulent and annual growth
Of still decaying matter still renewed.
If there they live, they live without decay,
Unnourished, and undying. Beauty there
Spreads not the landscape with rich fields and woods,
Brown glebes, and errant streams: but spiry rocks
Burn in untempered sunlight, and wide shades
Invite to cool, and deepen into night.
Fit haunt for spirits,—for to local bound,
Though hard to set, all spirits are confined,
Save that unbounded One, who lives through all,—
Fit haunt for blessed spirits to abide,
In holiest intercourse and love unsoiled,
In sight of earth and heaven, their final bliss.
Nor let us dream of aught that might degrade
Our holiest Faith in this. He that was dead
And lives again, the bright and morning Star
Of all our yearning hopes,—shall any say
They dwell not there, because they dwell with Him?
He is, where sin is not. Among them there,
He, in the body of His glory, may
As once in Eden, walk: high Visitant,
Teacher sublime:—there may they humble sit
Beside His feet, and learn.
Who framed the wondrous universe, by rule
And due apportionment are fitted all,
Each to its separate use. And that pure isle
Of treasured light, journeying with this our earth,
Wherefore thus waits it on the world of man?
Say, to give light by night; but wherefore then
So scant, and intermitted? Say, to swell
The tides salubrious, and to air, sun-dried,
Restore its genial moisture. But nor this
Seems to suffice. Hath that fair-fashioned world
No tributary use for this world's lord?
Doth it no purpose serve for man? If life,
Life various and material, there were fed
As here below, then would the varying clouds
Dapple her argent surface, and pale belts
Of fleecy mist athwart her orb extend,
Which are not found. Material life and growth,
Nourished as here, is none. If living tribes
Are there, then live they by some law unknown
To us, whom tillage of the moistened soil
Feeds, on the succulent and annual growth
Of still decaying matter still renewed.
If there they live, they live without decay,
Unnourished, and undying. Beauty there
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Brown glebes, and errant streams: but spiry rocks
Burn in untempered sunlight, and wide shades
Invite to cool, and deepen into night.
Fit haunt for spirits,—for to local bound,
Though hard to set, all spirits are confined,
Save that unbounded One, who lives through all,—
Fit haunt for blessed spirits to abide,
In holiest intercourse and love unsoiled,
In sight of earth and heaven, their final bliss.
Nor let us dream of aught that might degrade
Our holiest Faith in this. He that was dead
And lives again, the bright and morning Star
Of all our yearning hopes,—shall any say
They dwell not there, because they dwell with Him?
He is, where sin is not. Among them there,
He, in the body of His glory, may
As once in Eden, walk: high Visitant,
Teacher sublime:—there may they humble sit
Beside His feet, and learn.
Here let us pause:
Nor further licence give to Fancy's wing:
Ev'n thus, may some believe, too wide we roam.
Nor further licence give to Fancy's wing:
Ev'n thus, may some believe, too wide we roam.
| The poetical works of Henry Alford | |