 | The Land of Light and other Hymns of Faith and Hope |  |
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OUR MINGLED LIFE
I. PART I
Bits of gladness and of sorrow,
Strangely crossed and interlaid,
Bits of cloud-belt and of rainbow,
In deep alternate braid;
Bits of storm, when winds are warring,
Bits of calm, when blasts are stayed;
Bits of silence and of uproar,
Bits of sunlight and of shade;
Bits of forest-smothered hollow,
And of open sunny glade;
Stripes of garden and of moorland,
Heath and rose together laid;
Serest leaf of brown October,
April's youngest, greenest blade.
Bits of day-spring and of sunset,
Of the midnight, of the noon;
Snow and ice of pale December,
Living flush of crimson June.
Sands of Egypt, fields of Sharon,
Rush of Jordan, sweep of Nile;
Wells of Marah, shades of Elim,
Sinai's frown, and Carmel's smile.
Depths of valley, peaks of mountain,
Stretch of verdure-loving plain;
Barren miles of ocean-shingle,
Fertile straths of smiling grain.
Broken shafts of Tyrian columns,
Rolled and worn by wave and time;
Miles of colonnade and grandeur,
Luxor's still majestic prime.
Strangely crossed and interlaid,
Bits of cloud-belt and of rainbow,
In deep alternate braid;
Bits of storm, when winds are warring,
Bits of calm, when blasts are stayed;
Bits of silence and of uproar,
Bits of sunlight and of shade;
Bits of forest-smothered hollow,
And of open sunny glade;
Stripes of garden and of moorland,
Heath and rose together laid;
Serest leaf of brown October,
April's youngest, greenest blade.
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Of the midnight, of the noon;
Snow and ice of pale December,
Living flush of crimson June.
Sands of Egypt, fields of Sharon,
Rush of Jordan, sweep of Nile;
Wells of Marah, shades of Elim,
Sinai's frown, and Carmel's smile.
Depths of valley, peaks of mountain,
Stretch of verdure-loving plain;
Barren miles of ocean-shingle,
Fertile straths of smiling grain.
Broken shafts of Tyrian columns,
Rolled and worn by wave and time;
Miles of colonnade and grandeur,
Luxor's still majestic prime.
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Truest music, jarring discord,
Voice of trumpet and of lute;
The thunder-shower's loud lashing,
And the dew-fall soft and mute.
Now the garland, now the coffin,
Now the wedding, now the tomb;
Now the festal shout of thousands,
Now the churchyard's lonely gloom.
Now the song above the living,
Now the chaunt above the dead;
The smooth smile of infant beauty,
Age's wan and furrowed head.
Voice of trumpet and of lute;
The thunder-shower's loud lashing,
And the dew-fall soft and mute.
Now the garland, now the coffin,
Now the wedding, now the tomb;
Now the festal shout of thousands,
Now the churchyard's lonely gloom.
Now the song above the living,
Now the chaunt above the dead;
The smooth smile of infant beauty,
Age's wan and furrowed head.
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These are the mingled seeds,
Some flowers, some idle weeds,
Some crowded, some alone,
With which man's field is sown,
And from which springs the one
Great harvest of a life that can
Be lived but once by man!
With these,—the threads of hope and fear,
Of ill and good—thou weavest here,
O dweller in this fallen clime,
Thy portion of the web of time!
These are the stones with which, O man,
Thou build'st, too oft without a plan,
Life's lordly hall or lowly cot,
The Babel or the Salem of thy lot.
Some flowers, some idle weeds,
Some crowded, some alone,
With which man's field is sown,
And from which springs the one
Great harvest of a life that can
Be lived but once by man!
With these,—the threads of hope and fear,
Of ill and good—thou weavest here,
O dweller in this fallen clime,
Thy portion of the web of time!
These are the stones with which, O man,
Thou build'st, too oft without a plan,
Life's lordly hall or lowly cot,
The Babel or the Salem of thy lot.
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II. PART II
Days of fever and of fretting,
Hours of kind and blessed calm;
Boughs of cedar and of cypress,
Wreaths of olive and of palm.
Noons of musing, nights of dreaming,
Words of love, and ways of strife;
Tears of parting, smiles of meeting,
Paths of smooth and rugged life.
Moods of sinking, when the spirit,
Overstrained, is downward borne;
Moods of soaring, when our being
Springs elastic to the morn;
All the doing and undoing,
And the doing o'er again;
All the fastening and the loosing
Of the many-linkèd chain.
Bits of brightening and of darkening,
Bits of weariness and rest;
All the hoping and despairing
Of the full or hollow breast.
Bits of slumbering and of waking,
Heavy tossing to and fro;
Shreds of living and of dying,
Being's daily ebb and flow.
With these is life begun and closed,
Of these its strange mosaic is composed.
Such are our annals upon earth,
Our tale from very hour of birth,
The soul's time-history;
Yet of such changes is made up
The changeless mystery,
Now hidden from our eye,
Of man's eternity.
Hours of kind and blessed calm;
Boughs of cedar and of cypress,
Wreaths of olive and of palm.
Noons of musing, nights of dreaming,
Words of love, and ways of strife;
Tears of parting, smiles of meeting,
Paths of smooth and rugged life.
Moods of sinking, when the spirit,
Overstrained, is downward borne;
Moods of soaring, when our being
Springs elastic to the morn;
All the doing and undoing,
And the doing o'er again;
All the fastening and the loosing
Of the many-linkèd chain.
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Bits of weariness and rest;
All the hoping and despairing
Of the full or hollow breast.
Bits of slumbering and of waking,
Heavy tossing to and fro;
Shreds of living and of dying,
Being's daily ebb and flow.
With these is life begun and closed,
Of these its strange mosaic is composed.
Such are our annals upon earth,
Our tale from very hour of birth,
The soul's time-history;
Yet of such changes is made up
The changeless mystery,
Now hidden from our eye,
Of man's eternity.
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Eternity!—
The sum of time's brief numbers here,
Thyself unnumbered still;
The issue of all mortal change, thyself
Unchanged, unchangeable;
The fruit of what we daily feel and see,
Thyself unseen, invisible!
Formed out of many hues,
Or dark or bright,
Thyself uncoloured and unmixed,
All dark or light.
The sum of time's brief numbers here,
Thyself unnumbered still;
The issue of all mortal change, thyself
Unchanged, unchangeable;
The fruit of what we daily feel and see,
Thyself unseen, invisible!
Formed out of many hues,
Or dark or bright,
Thyself uncoloured and unmixed,
All dark or light.
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O wondrous day!—
God's day, not man's, as heretofore;
Christ's hour, not Satan's, as before;
When right shall all be might,
And might shall all be right;
And truth, for ages sorely tried,
By error mocked, reviled, defied,
No longer on the losing side,
Shall celebrate its victory,
And wave its ancient palm on high;
When good and ill unmixed
Flow on for ever.
God's day, not man's, as heretofore;
Christ's hour, not Satan's, as before;
When right shall all be might,
And might shall all be right;
And truth, for ages sorely tried,
By error mocked, reviled, defied,
No longer on the losing side,
Shall celebrate its victory,
And wave its ancient palm on high;
When good and ill unmixed
Flow on for ever.
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Each in its distant channel fixed,
An everlasting river!
Where grief and joy, disjoined,
The true and false untwined,
Each to its destined place,
At the stern sentence, gone,
Shall dwell alone,
Each on its far-off shore,
And see each other's face
No more!
An everlasting river!
Where grief and joy, disjoined,
The true and false untwined,
Each to its destined place,
At the stern sentence, gone,
Shall dwell alone,
Each on its far-off shore,
And see each other's face
No more!
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O wondrous day!
When things that are shall pass away!
Earth's skies take on their evening gloom,
And the great sunset come;
When, with far-echoing swell,
Like monarch's funeral knell,
The world's great vesper bell,—
Deeper than that by far,
Which, 'neath St. Saba's evening star,
Sounds over Sodom's sullen sea,
From the grey peaks of Engedi;
Or from red Sinai's fiery slope,
Like wail of earth's expiring hope,
Swings out in wild, slow-pealing strain,
Across Er-Rahah's sandy plain,—
Shall sound o'er earth, and tell
That the great Judge has come,
Long waiting at the door;
Come, too, the day of doom,
So long for man in store.
When things that are shall pass away!
Earth's skies take on their evening gloom,
And the great sunset come;
When, with far-echoing swell,
Like monarch's funeral knell,
The world's great vesper bell,—
Deeper than that by far,
Which, 'neath St. Saba's evening star,
Sounds over Sodom's sullen sea,
From the grey peaks of Engedi;
Or from red Sinai's fiery slope,
Like wail of earth's expiring hope,
Swings out in wild, slow-pealing strain,
Across Er-Rahah's sandy plain,—
Shall sound o'er earth, and tell
That the great Judge has come,
Long waiting at the door;
Come, too, the day of doom,
So long for man in store.
| The Land of Light and other Hymns of Faith and Hope | |