The Poetical Works of Robert Montgomery Collected and Revised by the Author |
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GOD'S CURSE UPON THE GROUND. |
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 | The Poetical Works of Robert Montgomery |  |
GOD'S CURSE UPON THE GROUND.
“Cursed is the ground for thy sake ------ Thorns,
also, and thistles, shall it bring forth to thee.”—
Gen. iii. 17, 18.
Though sumless mercies teem around
In ocean, earth, and air,
Mysterious vengeance haunts the ground,—
A curse is cleaving there!
The thorn which mars our blighted fields,
The thistle that appears,
Each to our soul a lesson yields
Becoming thoughtful fears.
In ocean, earth, and air,
Mysterious vengeance haunts the ground,—
A curse is cleaving there!
The thorn which mars our blighted fields,
The thistle that appears,
Each to our soul a lesson yields
Becoming thoughtful fears.
And, add to this the weariness
On Manhood's sunken brow,
The burden and the bitterness
Which darken Labour now,
Together with the barren soil
That gives a stern reply,
To hearts that tend and hands which toil
Beneath a threatful sky,—
On Manhood's sunken brow,
The burden and the bitterness
Which darken Labour now,
Together with the barren soil
That gives a stern reply,
To hearts that tend and hands which toil
Beneath a threatful sky,—
These unrelenting symbols tell,
O'er this sad World of ours
The frownings of Jehovah fell,
And blighted all her bowers!
Unbeautified and bare they seem
Her landscapes, scenes, and all
Which once surpass'd the Muse's dream,
And men Elysium call.
O'er this sad World of ours
The frownings of Jehovah fell,
And blighted all her bowers!
Unbeautified and bare they seem
Her landscapes, scenes, and all
Which once surpass'd the Muse's dream,
And men Elysium call.
The curse of sin's avenging God
Hath sear'd the blasted earth,
And glooms of His judicial rod
Hang o'er us from our birth:—
Yet, with the curse Compassion weaved
A mystery of love,
And Angels o'er the past who grieved,
Sang wonder-hymns above
Hath sear'd the blasted earth,
And glooms of His judicial rod
Hang o'er us from our birth:—
Yet, with the curse Compassion weaved
A mystery of love,
And Angels o'er the past who grieved,
Sang wonder-hymns above
To see while Godhead in His wrath
The gates of Eden closed,
Calm o'er the exiled sinner's path
A ray of Christ reposed!—
Light in our darkness yet remains,
Flowers bloom among our weeds;
And Grace unbinds the loathèd chains
With which tried Nature bleeds.
The gates of Eden closed,
Calm o'er the exiled sinner's path
A ray of Christ reposed!—
Light in our darkness yet remains,
Flowers bloom among our weeds;
And Grace unbinds the loathèd chains
With which tried Nature bleeds.
And Thou art branded, fiendish One!
Who tempted man to sin,
A hell in hell thy crime hath won,
To blast despair within.
And ye! the guilty heirs of dust
Who fain from earth would fly,
Stand, and be doom'd by heaven ye must,—
Can God Himself deny?
Who tempted man to sin,
A hell in hell thy crime hath won,
To blast despair within.
And ye! the guilty heirs of dust
Who fain from earth would fly,
Stand, and be doom'd by heaven ye must,—
Can God Himself deny?
But good shall out of evil spring,
And love with judgment blend,
For, round the curse God's ransom'd sing,
“Our Father! and our Friend!”
And though pale mothers here may read
Of birth-pangs, and their woes,
Yet is not Christ the woman's seed,
Whom earth to mother owes?
And love with judgment blend,
For, round the curse God's ransom'd sing,
“Our Father! and our Friend!”
And though pale mothers here may read
Of birth-pangs, and their woes,
Yet is not Christ the woman's seed,
Whom earth to mother owes?
And if round spousal love there winds
A thorny wreath of care,
Myriads of married Hearts and Minds
Prove wedlock pure and fair:
Men are not tyrants, though they rule,
If christian lords they be;
And women by subjection school
Their love for liberty.
A thorny wreath of care,
Myriads of married Hearts and Minds
Prove wedlock pure and fair:
Men are not tyrants, though they rule,
If christian lords they be;
And women by subjection school
Their love for liberty.
47
And never be this truth forgot,
That Wedlock is a sign,
The Church endures no widow'd lot,
Her Husband is divine!
And though cold Earth reluctant now
Brings forth her fruits and flowers,
While sweating anguish damps the brow
By work, and wearied hours,
That Wedlock is a sign,
The Church endures no widow'd lot,
Her Husband is divine!
And though cold Earth reluctant now
Brings forth her fruits and flowers,
While sweating anguish damps the brow
By work, and wearied hours,
Yet in that toil emotions lurk
To keep the heart awake;—
Where is our wisdom, if no work
Our laggard dreams can break?
And from the soil we plough and turn
With labour's ceaseless hand,
Religion may her Bible learn,
And think of God's command!
To keep the heart awake;—
Where is our wisdom, if no work
Our laggard dreams can break?
And from the soil we plough and turn
With labour's ceaseless hand,
Religion may her Bible learn,
And think of God's command!
Thus, though the sentence, “Dust thou art,”
And low in dust shalt be,
Booms like a knell within the heart
When wrung by memory,
Yet may the trump of Easter sound
O'er each sepulchral sod,
“Awake! thou sleeper, from the ground,
And gaze upon thy God!”
And low in dust shalt be,
Booms like a knell within the heart
When wrung by memory,
Yet may the trump of Easter sound
O'er each sepulchral sod,
“Awake! thou sleeper, from the ground,
And gaze upon thy God!”
| The Poetical Works of Robert Montgomery | |