 | "Until the Day Break," |  |
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POEMS.
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BLUE ABOVE.
Above your tallest chimneys,
Ye men of Glasgow, rise!
There are grander things than chimneys
In these forgotten skies.
Ye men of Glasgow, rise!
There are grander things than chimneys
In these forgotten skies.
Leave gloriously beneath you
Your dingy demi-jour,
Your fog, and smoke, and steam-drift,
Your palpable obscure.
Your dingy demi-jour,
Your fog, and smoke, and steam-drift,
Your palpable obscure.
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There is blue above your city;
There are stars above the blue,
Unbegrimed and unbemisted,
Though shaded from your view;
There are stars above the blue,
Unbegrimed and unbemisted,
Though shaded from your view;
Above your masts and pendants,
Above your house-top wires,
Above the Stygian columns
That crown your furnace fires.
Above your house-top wires,
Above the Stygian columns
That crown your furnace fires.
Aim high, yet higher, higher,
Beyond the planets seven;
Your smoke hath not yet tainted
The golden air of heaven.
Beyond the planets seven;
Your smoke hath not yet tainted
The golden air of heaven.
At your feet see yonder ladder,
Right through the city haze;
It riseth to the mansions
Of everlasting praise.
Right through the city haze;
It riseth to the mansions
Of everlasting praise.
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On that city gate it resteth,
Where all is crystal clear;
No smoke, no mist, no dimness,
In that fair atmosphere.
Where all is crystal clear;
No smoke, no mist, no dimness,
In that fair atmosphere.
December, 1879.
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THE WORLD'S STORM.
“The sea and the waves roaring.”
—Luke xxi. 25.
—Luke xxi. 25.
The tempest has been long, and through the sky
Wander the clouds, uncertain of their way;
The air is thick, and the old sun on high
Is hiding still his beauty from the day,
Under some sad eclipse or silent, sore decay.
Wander the clouds, uncertain of their way;
The air is thick, and the old sun on high
Is hiding still his beauty from the day,
Under some sad eclipse or silent, sore decay.
Round the wide earth the storm its war doth wage;
O'er the far sea it spreads its saddening gloom,
Nor noon nor night its anger can assuage;
As if above us hung some hopeless doom,
Preparing for our race an everlasting tomb.
O'er the far sea it spreads its saddening gloom,
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As if above us hung some hopeless doom,
Preparing for our race an everlasting tomb.
And sin hath done it all! The heavy years,
Burdening the ages, owe their heaviness
To this alone—the thousand griefs and fears
Which speak humanity's unhealed distress,
And all its told or untold broken-heartedness.
Burdening the ages, owe their heaviness
To this alone—the thousand griefs and fears
Which speak humanity's unhealed distress,
And all its told or untold broken-heartedness.
Where'er we go, 'tis shipwreck, shipwreck still;
The shore is strewed with relics of the gale;
Look where we may, from tower, or cliff, or hill,
We see the broken barque, the shivered sail,
Or hear from dying lips the long, wild, woeful wail.
The shore is strewed with relics of the gale;
Look where we may, from tower, or cliff, or hill,
We see the broken barque, the shivered sail,
Or hear from dying lips the long, wild, woeful wail.
Far off or near, the unabated power
Of evil reigns, confessed or unconfessed.
The prince of evil knows his day and power;
O'er the dark earth he reigns, from east to west,
The spirit of misrule, the angel of unrest.
Of evil reigns, confessed or unconfessed.
The prince of evil knows his day and power;
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The spirit of misrule, the angel of unrest.
The world is not what it was meant to be,
Nor is it what it shall one day become;
It writhes beneath its wasting misery,
Crying for help, even when it seems most dumb,
And of its stormy ages counts the weary sum.
Nor is it what it shall one day become;
It writhes beneath its wasting misery,
Crying for help, even when it seems most dumb,
And of its stormy ages counts the weary sum.
Yet need it not despair, for help is near,
And “Peace be still” shall bring the mighty calm,
Shall bid the storm depart, the sin, the fear,
The rose come up, the myrtle and the palm,
And all its vales send up the universal psalm.
And “Peace be still” shall bring the mighty calm,
Shall bid the storm depart, the sin, the fear,
The rose come up, the myrtle and the palm,
And all its vales send up the universal psalm.
November 23rd, 1878.
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MY HOLYDAY.
THE HYMN OF A CHRISTIAN WORKER.
Stay, stay behind me here, my busy thoughts,
While I go yonder for a little while.
Nay, do not follow me; let me forget
My city stir, and fret, and heat, and toil.
While I go yonder for a little while.
Nay, do not follow me; let me forget
My city stir, and fret, and heat, and toil.
Tarry behind me; vex me, touch me not,
Ye endless aches of heart, and brow, and brain;
Vanish like mist, each scene that would recall
My vision to the crowd and street again.
Ye endless aches of heart, and brow, and brain;
Vanish like mist, each scene that would recall
My vision to the crowd and street again.
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Pursue me not; but let me calmly go
To the retirement which the Master sought,
Set free from all that would encumber me,
Or mar the oneness of the heavenly thought.
To the retirement which the Master sought,
Set free from all that would encumber me,
Or mar the oneness of the heavenly thought.
The stillness of the closet's stillest hush,
The lonely silence of the lonely wood,
The stream, the sea, the cliff, the dusky moor
Shall furnish me with fruitful solitude.
The lonely silence of the lonely wood,
The stream, the sea, the cliff, the dusky moor
Shall furnish me with fruitful solitude.
Tarry behind me for a season, then,
Beloved workers for the Master here;
I go that I may find in gentle rest
New fitness for the work so grand and dear.
Beloved workers for the Master here;
I go that I may find in gentle rest
New fitness for the work so grand and dear.
Tarry behind, leave me, dear friends, alone,
Companions of my days and nights of toil;
I shall return to you refreshed for work:
Leave me alone with God, alone awhile.
Companions of my days and nights of toil;
I shall return to you refreshed for work:
Leave me alone with God, alone awhile.
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I would return to work with you on earth,
The health of my whole man revived, restored,
Again to labour with you side by side,
In the one vineyard of our common Lord.
The health of my whole man revived, restored,
Again to labour with you side by side,
In the one vineyard of our common Lord.
From my calm weeks of solitude and prayer,
Of converse with the High and Holy One,
Whose work with these poor hands we seek to do,
I would return to you a holier man.
Of converse with the High and Holy One,
Whose work with these poor hands we seek to do,
I would return to you a holier man.
Help me, my comrades on the harvest-field;
Help me, companions in the holy war;
That in the eternal firmament I may
Shine with the brightness of no common star.
Help me, companions in the holy war;
That in the eternal firmament I may
Shine with the brightness of no common star.
Greystonelees, Berwickshire,
August 23rd, 1882.
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YON SHADED GLEN.
Far up yon shaded glen,
When morn is softly waking,
I hear the brooklet's lay,
Through lonely willows breaking.
To muse alone I wander on,
Afar from city riot;
That sky so near, that strain so clear,
This glen the home of quiet.
When morn is softly waking,
I hear the brooklet's lay,
Through lonely willows breaking.
To muse alone I wander on,
Afar from city riot;
That sky so near, that strain so clear,
This glen the home of quiet.
Waters of love and light,
With sun-mist sweetly glowing,
My spirit drinketh in
The magic of your flowing;
The song of mirth beyond this earth,
Unmixed with sin or sorrow:
Your loving song still pours along,
To cheer each rising morrow.
With sun-mist sweetly glowing,
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The magic of your flowing;
The song of mirth beyond this earth,
Unmixed with sin or sorrow:
Your loving song still pours along,
To cheer each rising morrow.
No revel-roar is here,
Stirring the brain's wild fever;
Coolness, and calm, and rest,
Breathe o'er this tranquil river.
Pure streams of peace and pleasantness
That never sing of sadness,
Oh, teach my soul, as on ye roll,
The secret of your gladness!
Stirring the brain's wild fever;
Coolness, and calm, and rest,
Breathe o'er this tranquil river.
Pure streams of peace and pleasantness
That never sing of sadness,
Oh, teach my soul, as on ye roll,
The secret of your gladness!
Dear brooklet of the hills
In this lone vale of quiet,
Oh, cast your cooling spell
O'er earth's hot haunts of riot!
Tell of the life beyond the strife
Where, with soft brilliance glowing,
The stream above of endless love
From fountains pure is flowing.
In this lone vale of quiet,
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O'er earth's hot haunts of riot!
Tell of the life beyond the strife
Where, with soft brilliance glowing,
The stream above of endless love
From fountains pure is flowing.
August 2nd, 1882.
229
THE HILL BEYOND.
“Superat cacumine nubes.”
—Ovid, Met. i. 317.
—Ovid, Met. i. 317.
Deep lies the valley; in its hollows sleeps
The darkness stern and still—
Darkness that may be felt;
But clear and fair, above, beyond, there towers
The everlasting hill.
None like it here on earth—
The hill of God, upon whose boundless slopes
The holy myriads stray,
The host of the redeemed;
The hill of heaven, on which the splendour rests
Of never-ending day,
The day without a sun.
The darkness stern and still—
Darkness that may be felt;
But clear and fair, above, beyond, there towers
The everlasting hill.
None like it here on earth—
The hill of God, upon whose boundless slopes
The holy myriads stray,
The host of the redeemed;
The hill of heaven, on which the splendour rests
Of never-ending day,
The day without a sun.
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Into these depths we go, as, step by step,
This life moves downward still
Into the place of tombs.
Yet not on these we fix our eye, but on
The everlasting hill,
Beyond the place of tombs—
The hill of life, where sparkle all in dew
Flowers of an endless May,
Roses of life and love;
The hill of light, upon which rests the kiss
Of the unchanging day
Day of the deathless host.
This life moves downward still
Into the place of tombs.
Yet not on these we fix our eye, but on
The everlasting hill,
Beyond the place of tombs—
The hill of life, where sparkle all in dew
Flowers of an endless May,
Roses of life and love;
The hill of light, upon which rests the kiss
Of the unchanging day
Day of the deathless host.
Dark are these depths beneath; the eye in vain
Attempts to probe the gloom,
Corruption's awful cell,
From which all beauty and all love have fled;
The life-absorbing tomb,
The treasure-house of dust.
Fair are the heights beyond, which sweetly tell
Of unextinguished love,
Of reunited hearts,
Unwrinkled foreheads and unweeping eyes;
The tree of life above,
Eternal fruit and shade!
Attempts to probe the gloom,
Corruption's awful cell,
From which all beauty and all love have fled;
The life-absorbing tomb,
The treasure-house of dust.
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Of unextinguished love,
Of reunited hearts,
Unwrinkled foreheads and unweeping eyes;
The tree of life above,
Eternal fruit and shade!
All perfect; not a wrinkle on the brow
Of that wide blue serene,
On which no stain can come.
All lucent; not a shade across these orbs
That o'er us calmly lean,
And watch us in their love.
'Tis the true morning then; the night is past,
And comes not back again
To overshadow us.
In the pure light of God, ourselves all pure,
Without a shade or stain,
We dwell for evermore.
Of that wide blue serene,
On which no stain can come.
All lucent; not a shade across these orbs
That o'er us calmly lean,
And watch us in their love.
'Tis the true morning then; the night is past,
And comes not back again
To overshadow us.
In the pure light of God, ourselves all pure,
Without a shade or stain,
We dwell for evermore.
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NIGHT HOPES.
“Exurge sol purissime,
Diemque da mundo suum;
Nostramque noctem illuminans,
Erroris umbram discute.”
Buchanan (Hymnus Maintinus).
Diemque da mundo suum;
Nostramque noctem illuminans,
Erroris umbram discute.”
Buchanan (Hymnus Maintinus).
The sands beneath my feet, the stars above;
The waves in front, the leafy woods behind:
Am I not compassed with the numberless,
A unit in the vast and unconfined,
'Mid these material things, a solitary mind?
The waves in front, the leafy woods behind:
Am I not compassed with the numberless,
A unit in the vast and unconfined,
'Mid these material things, a solitary mind?
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Girt round about with God, in whom I live,
And move, and am—my portion and my peace—
I join creation's universal song,
The mingled lay of rest and weariness,
The varied hymn of hope, and fear, and joyfulness.
And move, and am—my portion and my peace—
I join creation's universal song,
The mingled lay of rest and weariness,
The varied hymn of hope, and fear, and joyfulness.
For this is not the world that is to be,
Though wondrous, both in darkness and in light,
The fair foreshadow of the perfect earth,
Freed from the mist, the tempest, and the blight,
When in one joy and song all heaven and earth unite.
Though wondrous, both in darkness and in light,
The fair foreshadow of the perfect earth,
Freed from the mist, the tempest, and the blight,
When in one joy and song all heaven and earth unite.
Amid these vastnesses I stand and gaze
Back on their past, as o'er a misty sea,
Into their grander future, looking on
And on with eager eye, more wistfully
Musing on all they mean, on all they yet shall be.
Back on their past, as o'er a misty sea,
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And on with eager eye, more wistfully
Musing on all they mean, on all they yet shall be.
Common we call these things of earth and sea;
I call them noble, sacred, and Divine.
Man's ruins are not half so wonderful—
Cathedral, temple, tower, or pillared shrine—
As that old ocean-rock on which these starlets shine.
I call them noble, sacred, and Divine.
Man's ruins are not half so wonderful—
Cathedral, temple, tower, or pillared shrine—
As that old ocean-rock on which these starlets shine.
Man's ruins have no ancestry compared
With these unruined monuments of time,
Which, ages without number, have withstood
The shock of tempests and the waste of clime,
Still, as when reared at first, majestic and sublime.
With these unruined monuments of time,
Which, ages without number, have withstood
The shock of tempests and the waste of clime,
Still, as when reared at first, majestic and sublime.
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OUR HYMN OF DELIVERANCE.
“Cantemus Domino; gloriose enim magnificatus est.”
—Exod. xv. 21.
—Exod. xv. 21.
For the Day-spring of the nations,
Of the kingdoms wide and far;
For the rising over Europe
Of the Bright and Morning Star;
For the blaze of heavenly sunshine,
For the hues of glorious day,
Coming up behind the shadows
Of the ages long and grey—
Blessèd be God, our God, alone,
Our God, the Everlasting One,
Who spake the word, and it was done!
Of the kingdoms wide and far;
For the rising over Europe
Of the Bright and Morning Star;
For the blaze of heavenly sunshine,
For the hues of glorious day,
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Of the ages long and grey—
Blessèd be God, our God, alone,
Our God, the Everlasting One,
Who spake the word, and it was done!
For the broken chains of Europe,
For her prison-doors unbarred,
For the freedom of her peoples,
By the freedom-giving Word;
For the battle bravely foughten
With the powers of hellish night;
For the scattering of the darkness,
For the victory of light—
Blessèd be God, our God, alone,
Our God, the Everlasting One,
Who spake the word, and it was done
For her prison-doors unbarred,
For the freedom of her peoples,
By the freedom-giving Word;
For the battle bravely foughten
With the powers of hellish night;
For the scattering of the darkness,
For the victory of light—
Blessèd be God, our God, alone,
Our God, the Everlasting One,
Who spake the word, and it was done
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For the ended sleep of Europe,
For the rousing of her sons,
For the shivering of her idols,
For the ruin of their thrones;
For the shout of joyous wonder
As she looks around and sees
The fair flag of living freedom
Floating far upon the breeze—
Blessèd be God, our God, alone,
Our God, the Everlasting One,
Who spake the word, and it was done!
For the rousing of her sons,
For the shivering of her idols,
For the ruin of their thrones;
For the shout of joyous wonder
As she looks around and sees
The fair flag of living freedom
Floating far upon the breeze—
Blessèd be God, our God, alone,
Our God, the Everlasting One,
Who spake the word, and it was done!
For the rainbow-beaming promise
Of our Europe's better birth;
For the thunder-song of gladness
O'er a liberated earth;
For the Book of peace unfolded,
Lifted up, and set on high;
For the torch of truth relighted,
Nevermore to dim or die—
Blessèd be God, our God, alone,
Our God, the Everlasting One,
Who spake the word, and it was done!
Of our Europe's better birth;
For the thunder-song of gladness
O'er a liberated earth;
For the Book of peace unfolded,
Lifted up, and set on high;
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Nevermore to dim or die—
Blessèd be God, our God, alone,
Our God, the Everlasting One,
Who spake the word, and it was done!
For the franchise of the conscience,
For the inner man unchained,
For the intellect ennobled,
And the soul's high birthright gained;
For the keys of heaven recovered
From the robber-hands of Rome;
For the Kingdom's open gateway,
And the sinner's welcome home—
Blessèd be God, our God, alone,
Our God, the Everlasting One,
Who spake the word, and it was done!
For the inner man unchained,
For the intellect ennobled,
And the soul's high birthright gained;
For the keys of heaven recovered
From the robber-hands of Rome;
For the Kingdom's open gateway,
And the sinner's welcome home—
Blessèd be God, our God, alone,
Our God, the Everlasting One,
Who spake the word, and it was done!
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For the flight of ancient spectres,
That had shaded with their gloom
Both the castle and the cottage,
Both the cradle and the tomb;
For the hope of holy triumphs,
In the eras yet to be;
For the pledge to captive millions,
Of release and jubilee—
Blessèd be God, our God, alone,
Our God, the Everlasting One,
Who spake the word, and it was done!
That had shaded with their gloom
Both the castle and the cottage,
Both the cradle and the tomb;
For the hope of holy triumphs,
In the eras yet to be;
For the pledge to captive millions,
Of release and jubilee—
Blessèd be God, our God, alone,
Our God, the Everlasting One,
Who spake the word, and it was done!
For the watchword of the prophets,
That “the just shall live by faith;”
For the Church's ancient symbol
Of the life that comes through death;
For the standard of Apostles,
Raised aloft and full unfurled,
Glad deliverance proclaiming
To a crushed and trampled world—
Blessèd be God, our God, alone,
Our God, the Everlasting One,
Who spake the word, and it was done!
That “the just shall live by faith;”
For the Church's ancient symbol
Of the life that comes through death;
For the standard of Apostles,
Raised aloft and full unfurled,
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To a crushed and trampled world—
Blessèd be God, our God, alone,
Our God, the Everlasting One,
Who spake the word, and it was done!
For the martyr's song of triumph,
On the wheel or scorching pyre;
For his strength of meek endurance,
On the rack or torturing fire;
For the noble witness-bearing
To the Christ the Lamb of God,
To the One unchanging Priesthood,
To the One atoning blood—
Blessèd be God, our God, alone,
Our God, the Everlasting One,
Who spake the word, and it was done!
On the wheel or scorching pyre;
For his strength of meek endurance,
On the rack or torturing fire;
For the noble witness-bearing
To the Christ the Lamb of God,
To the One unchanging Priesthood,
To the One atoning blood—
Blessèd be God, our God, alone,
Our God, the Everlasting One,
Who spake the word, and it was done!
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For the brave protest of Europe
'Gainst the iron rod of Rome,
'Gainst the old Italian spoiler,
'Gainst the wolf of Christendom;
For our Europe's bold confession
Of the one true faith and Lord;
For the Church's bondage broken,
And her ancient rights restored—
Blessèd be God, our God, alone,
Our God, the Everlasting One,
Who spake the word, and it was done!
'Gainst the iron rod of Rome,
'Gainst the old Italian spoiler,
'Gainst the wolf of Christendom;
For our Europe's bold confession
Of the one true faith and Lord;
For the Church's bondage broken,
And her ancient rights restored—
Blessèd be God, our God, alone,
Our God, the Everlasting One,
Who spake the word, and it was done!
For the everlasting Gospel,
Which in splendour has gone forth,
Like a torch upon the mountains,
Of a re-illumined earth;
For the temple flung wide open,
At whose gates the goodly train
Of the nations had been knocking,
But in vain, so long in vain—
Blessèd be God, our God, alone,
Our God, the Everlasting One,
Who spake the word, and it was done!
Which in splendour has gone forth,
Like a torch upon the mountains,
Of a re-illumined earth;
For the temple flung wide open,
At whose gates the goodly train
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But in vain, so long in vain—
Blessèd be God, our God, alone,
Our God, the Everlasting One,
Who spake the word, and it was done!
September 10th, 1883.
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LUTHER.
‘Dixi omnia cum hominem nominavi.”
—Pliny Ep. iv. 22.
—Pliny Ep. iv. 22.
In the strength of conscious weakness,
That leans on a strong man's arm,
No shrinking, no sinking of spirit,
No dread of defeat or harm:
He went to the battle bravely,
But he took no human sword,
And he donned no earthly armour;
'Twas the battle of the Lord.
That leans on a strong man's arm,
No shrinking, no sinking of spirit,
No dread of defeat or harm:
He went to the battle bravely,
But he took no human sword,
And he donned no earthly armour;
'Twas the battle of the Lord.
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In the joy of a glorious freedom,
In the peace of a pardon found,
In the light of a heavenly sunshine,
That had compassed him around;
In the life of the living Spirit,
In the power of a well-known love,
Went he forth on his mighty mission,
At the summons from above.
In the peace of a pardon found,
In the light of a heavenly sunshine,
That had compassed him around;
In the life of the living Spirit,
In the power of a well-known love,
Went he forth on his mighty mission,
At the summons from above.
All the heart of Europe was heaving,
Crushed out with enslaving lies;
She looked all around her in anguish;
He heard her bewildered cries,
The cries of the death-stricken nations,
Overshadowed with stifling night;
He opened the Book of blessing,
And the kingdoms owned its might.
Crushed out with enslaving lies;
She looked all around her in anguish;
He heard her bewildered cries,
The cries of the death-stricken nations,
Overshadowed with stifling night;
He opened the Book of blessing,
And the kingdoms owned its might.
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He shook down the leaves of healing
From the boughs of Life's own tree,
Till their health, with its quickening gladness,
Went wide over earth and sea,
Went down the rejoicing ages,
Dissolving the bands of death,
Diffusing a fresh, strange sweetness,
With its soft celestial breath.
From the boughs of Life's own tree,
Till their health, with its quickening gladness,
Went wide over earth and sea,
Went down the rejoicing ages,
Dissolving the bands of death,
Diffusing a fresh, strange sweetness,
With its soft celestial breath.
From the banks of the turbid Tiber
He heard the imperious boasts;
But he faced the blustering terror
In the name of the Lord of hosts,
In the name of a trusted Captain
That had never lost a field,
And the spell of an ancient banner
That never was known to yield.
He heard the imperious boasts;
But he faced the blustering terror
In the name of the Lord of hosts,
In the name of a trusted Captain
That had never lost a field,
And the spell of an ancient banner
That never was known to yield.
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Like the free and impatient war-horse,
That scenteth the battle afar,
And shaketh the ground with its pawings,
Went he forth to the unknown war.
He drew no sword from the scabbard,
No time-forged weapon he sought;
The spear, the sword, the helmet,
Were things which he needed not.
That scenteth the battle afar,
And shaketh the ground with its pawings,
Went he forth to the unknown war.
He drew no sword from the scabbard,
No time-forged weapon he sought;
The spear, the sword, the helmet,
Were things which he needed not.
He stood by the sea and touched it;
Its billows were cleft in twain,
He stood by the rock and smote it,
Till its waters flowed amain.
He stood with his rod uplifted
O'er the Amalek hosts below,
Till the song of the victor ascended
O'er the Church's flying foe.
Its billows were cleft in twain,
He stood by the rock and smote it,
Till its waters flowed amain.
He stood with his rod uplifted
O'er the Amalek hosts below,
Till the song of the victor ascended
O'er the Church's flying foe.
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His sling with stones from the brooklet
He fills as he moves along,
Alone in his deep-felt weakness,
Against the ten thousand strong.
A stripling in shepherd raiment,
He defies the Philistian band;
He comes, he sees, and he conquers,
For his own fair Fatherland.
He fills as he moves along,
Alone in his deep-felt weakness,
Against the ten thousand strong.
A stripling in shepherd raiment,
He defies the Philistian band;
He comes, he sees, and he conquers,
For his own fair Fatherland.
He heard the shouts of the foemen;
They were thousands, he but one;
The legions of Rome were advancing;
He stood there a lonely man.
The eternal volume clasping,
Heaven's rescript of life and death,
He spoke the delivering watchword,
That “the just shall live by faith.”
They were thousands, he but one;
The legions of Rome were advancing;
He stood there a lonely man.
The eternal volume clasping,
Heaven's rescript of life and death,
He spoke the delivering watchword,
That “the just shall live by faith.”
248
He looketh around in silence;
All the eagle is in his eye;
Then aloud to the startled nations
He lifteth his voice on high.
'Tis the voice of a fellow-mortal,
Yet it comes from the Throne above;
And it brings to the sorrowful peoples
The bright news of celestial love.
All the eagle is in his eye;
Then aloud to the startled nations
He lifteth his voice on high.
'Tis the voice of a fellow-mortal,
Yet it comes from the Throne above;
And it brings to the sorrowful peoples
The bright news of celestial love.
What to him were the threats of princes,
Or the bribe of earthly gains?
What to him was the rising tempest,
Bursting down on his Saxon plains?
What to him was the Roman spectre,
That crossed and recrossed his path,
Or the drops from the mimic vials
Of the old destroyer's wrath?
Or the bribe of earthly gains?
What to him was the rising tempest,
Bursting down on his Saxon plains?
What to him was the Roman spectre,
That crossed and recrossed his path,
Or the drops from the mimic vials
Of the old destroyer's wrath?
249
What to him was the seven-hilled city,
Or the priest with the triple crown
As he launched his envenomed curses
At the monk who had braved his frown?
What to him were the thunder-echoes
From the far-off Apennine,
The bolt of the Alpine lightning
Coming down on the tranquil Rhine?
Or the priest with the triple crown
As he launched his envenomed curses
At the monk who had braved his frown?
What to him were the thunder-echoes
From the far-off Apennine,
The bolt of the Alpine lightning
Coming down on the tranquil Rhine?
Brave herald of faith and freedom,
Apostle of ancient light,
Oh, speak to bewildered Europe
In these days of gathering night!
Sound out the immortal message,
Which of old her death-sleep woke;
And peal the far-echoing trumpet,
Which her Roman bondage broke.
Apostle of ancient light,
Oh, speak to bewildered Europe
In these days of gathering night!
Sound out the immortal message,
Which of old her death-sleep woke;
And peal the far-echoing trumpet,
Which her Roman bondage broke.
250
Though dead, art thou not still speaking?
Have the ages wronged thy fame?
Do we read on these princely banners
But a Saxon miner's name?
Is thy grand soul-stirring story
But a dream of the cold, mute past?
Hast thou gone from earth for ever?
Are thy footprints clean effaced?
Have the ages wronged thy fame?
Do we read on these princely banners
But a Saxon miner's name?
Is thy grand soul-stirring story
But a dream of the cold, mute past?
Hast thou gone from earth for ever?
Are thy footprints clean effaced?
Is the spell of the mighty broken?
Has thy name but a myth become?
Has the strength of the strong man perished?
Is the voice of Luther dumb?
Has the touch which thou didst kindle
Passed away into hopeless gloom?
Is yon bust but a block of marble,
And yon grave but a vulgar tomb?
Has thy name but a myth become?
Has the strength of the strong man perished?
Is the voice of Luther dumb?
Has the touch which thou didst kindle
Passed away into hopeless gloom?
Is yon bust but a block of marble,
And yon grave but a vulgar tomb?
251
Speak again to thine old Eisleben,
To thy Wittenberg once more;
Call aloud to the far-off millions
Beyond thy old German shore.
Let thy hand once more sweep over
All thine old harp's varied chords;
Let the nations to life awaken
At the power of thy thunder-words!
To thy Wittenberg once more;
Call aloud to the far-off millions
Beyond thy old German shore.
Let thy hand once more sweep over
All thine old harp's varied chords;
Let the nations to life awaken
At the power of thy thunder-words!
October, 1883.
| "Until the Day Break," | |