The Poetry of Real Life A New Edition, Much Enlarged and Improved. By Henry Ellison |
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ALL THINGS A HYMN TO GOD. |
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 | The Poetry of Real Life |  |
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ALL THINGS A HYMN TO GOD.
Hear'st thou the Hymn? from star to star it flows,Like the deep sound of many waters: on,
For ever on, through boundless space—not one
Sole thing but duly pays the debt it owes,
With praise, according to its kind! the Rose—
Whose scent and beauty are its hymn! the sun—
Who with each dawn, and when his course is run,
Sets forth, with colours fairer far than those
Of Raphael, on the clouds that bar his way,
His Maker's glory: and, as from the sky
They melt, with silent music for the eye,
They hymn His praise! and, though there neither may
Be speech nor language, they have still whereby
To praise him, night by night, and day by day!
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Her homage, with her thousand stars, that ply
Stilly their tasks, and utter best thereby
His praises, who, in all this rich array
Of earth and heavën, seeks not to display
Himself, e'en for a moment: éxcept when
He smiles down on the sleeping Earth, through ten
Times ten ten-thousand stars, when none is nigh
To see Him do it—then he smiles—yes then!
To think He watches o'er the sons of men
So lovingly, through those still stars, and yet
Is never seen by those who oft forget
His name, and most through that which should but more
Make them remember it, and more adore,
Were 't but for this! Then thou, my soul, too play
Thy part: and, under his Name, modestly
Work out the godlike, like the stars, nor pray
For vain reward or recompense: for by
Becoming godlike will thou best repay
At once thyself, and serve the Deity!
The rose is quite a rose, and what that can
Accomplish, canst not thou? be quite a man!
Then will thy being, like the rose's, be
A Hymn, and godlike wilt thou live and die:
Fit, like its scent, to mix with Ether, high
Above earth's mists, and clear, as is the sky,
And to all heaven's privileges free
As Angels, yea! an Angel verily!
| The Poetry of Real Life | |