The Poetical Works of Robert Montgomery :: :: University of Virginia Library

“Oh that I were as in months past, as in the days when God preserved me; when his candle shined upon my head ------ when the secret of God was upon my tabernacle.”—Job xxix. ii. 2–4.

“Oh! that with me, as in the months of yore,
My heart were basking in the smile of God,
When all I saw the sweet impression bore
His eye o'erwatch'd me through the way I trod.

“Then did the candle of Jehovah beam
With loving radiance o'er my rising hours,
And life roll'd onward like a happy stream
Which carols music to the list'ning flowers.

“Bright with the dews of pure devotion, lay
My spirit open to each breath from heaven;
And all who saw me, in their hearts might say,—
Dead paradise re-blooms in sin forgiven!

“Precious was Christ! beyond angelic speech
In might or melody to e'er reveal;
Nor could the songs of sainted rapture reach
All His incarnate glories made me feel.

“Dear was the temple, and the hour of prayer,
And dear the spirit of that ritual Whole
When all my faculties were hallow'd there,
And heaven seem'd dawning on my inmost soul.

“And when the emblems of embodied Love
Bleeding for man, to my awed sense were brought,
Like Stephen, view'd I in the world above
The Christ, by whom a sacrament is wrought.”—

Thus moans in secret many a voiceless heart
Heavy with gloom, and harrow'd by distress;
Dull, cold, or dead, as grace and gift depart
And leave the sad One to his loneliness.

Yet, dark believer! may such woeful strain
Issue from shades of cowardice and sin;
And what thou dreamest a majestic pain,
May prove the sign of hollowness within!

There is a trinity in mortal time
By past, by present, and by future made;
And, Conscience wields a potency sublime
When each before her stands, in truth array'd.

Then must we feel how time's divisions mould
One character, in which our fate will rest;
Eternity in seed we thus behold
As heaven, or hell, now ripens in the breast!

Oh, then, not idly, with a weak lament
Sigh o'er some privilege, which breathes no more;
Religion scorns a laggard discontent
That feebly sickens in pale dreams of yore.

Not grace from thee, but thou from God hast gone,
By cold illapse declining day by day;
Or from the paths which lead true virtue on
Turn'd into tracks which tempt the soul away.

Cold in thy prayer, in praise reluctant grown,
Seldom at church, the Eucharist forgot,
Thy creed, self-will, no master but thine own,—
Behold! the secret which explains thy lot.

Obedience is religion's breath of life;
Constant and pure denials must we bear;
Each day should be with crucifixion rife,
Each hour be hallowed with the soul of prayer.

Saints learn by loving, and by love they live;
Who walk with God, must from themselves depart;
And Peace descends not from her Prince above,
Except for God faith purify the heart.

Mourners in Zion oft are minds which fail
To hold their Master's cross supreme in view;
Or let some lust o'er discipline prevail
That renders them to church, and creed untrue.

Thus, like a secret rust the world begins
Eating its way, until our hearts corrode;
Pleasure and profit veil their inward sins,
And wide as passion seems the “narrow” road.

From virgin youthfulness the Soul declines
When from both God and grace it dares to roam,
And can no longer through the Word Divine
Shelter the heart, in true affection's home.

144

“Oh! that with me as in pure moments past
My God were present,”—vain such cry, indeed,
Unless Repentance thy worn spirit cast
Low at the mercy-seat to lie, and bleed.

Leave sigh and sentiment for Duty's cross,
Haste thee to works of sacrifice and prayer;
Count a gain'd world to be a gloomy loss
And prize hereafter as thy holy care:

So may the smile of Godhead back return
Effulging o'er thee, as in days of old;
Dead in thyself, to live in Jesu learn,
And round His throne God's covenant behold.

Earth, sense, and time will more and more recede,
Conscience be cleansed, and childlike prayer arise;
Eternity will grow thy grandest need,
God be thy goal, and heaven thy genial prize.