The Reliquary By Bernard and Lucy Barton. With A Prefatory Appeal for Poetry and Poets |
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SABBATHS AT SEA. |
 | The Reliquary |  |
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SABBATHS AT SEA.
It is a spell the heart to bless,
When on earth's peaceful bowers
Descends “the holy quietness
That breathes from Sabbath-hours;”
When from her ivy mantled towers
The chiming bells are heard;
With hum of bees among the flowers,
And song of many a bird.
When on earth's peaceful bowers
Descends “the holy quietness
That breathes from Sabbath-hours;”
When from her ivy mantled towers
The chiming bells are heard;
With hum of bees among the flowers,
And song of many a bird.
And pleasant is it to behold,
From scatter'd hamlets fair,
The rich and poor, the young and old,
To Sabbath-rites repair;
All gather'd to the house of prayer,
From cottage, farm, or hall,
To yield man's common homage there,
To Him who made them all.
From scatter'd hamlets fair,
The rich and poor, the young and old,
To Sabbath-rites repair;
All gather'd to the house of prayer,
From cottage, farm, or hall,
To yield man's common homage there,
To Him who made them all.
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The sea, too, hath its Sabbath-day,
For mariners to keep;
Such as, with rev'rent hearts, survey
God's wonders in the deep:
Whether the crested billows leap
Beneath a cloudless sky;
Or mighty winds that o'er them sweep,
Proclaim the tempest nigh.
For mariners to keep;
Such as, with rev'rent hearts, survey
God's wonders in the deep:
Whether the crested billows leap
Beneath a cloudless sky;
Or mighty winds that o'er them sweep,
Proclaim the tempest nigh.
A beautiful and solemn sight
Methinks it well may be,
When a ship's company unite
In worship far at sea!
They bend in humble prayer the knee,
To Him that walk'd the waves;
Their theme of thankful praise is He,
Who still in peril saves.
Methinks it well may be,
When a ship's company unite
In worship far at sea!
They bend in humble prayer the knee,
To Him that walk'd the waves;
Their theme of thankful praise is He,
Who still in peril saves.
Earth's richest shrine of loftiest pride,
The wonder of the land—
Yields to these courts of ocean wide,
By heavenly Builder plann'd.
What temple more sublimely grand
The power of God unfolds,
Who in the “hollow of His hand”
The world of waters holds?
The wonder of the land—
Yields to these courts of ocean wide,
By heavenly Builder plann'd.
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The power of God unfolds,
Who in the “hollow of His hand”
The world of waters holds?
What could the organ's thrilling sound,
Of music's spell supply,
To match the solemn tones around,—
The deep's wild melody?
In this each breeze that passes by
Performs its skilful part,
And e'en the sea-birds' tuneless cry
Appeals unto the heart!
Of music's spell supply,
To match the solemn tones around,—
The deep's wild melody?
In this each breeze that passes by
Performs its skilful part,
And e'en the sea-birds' tuneless cry
Appeals unto the heart!
God dwelleth not in temples, made
By human hands, alone;—
Where power and wisdom are display'd,
There is His presence known:
He for His fane, doth ocean own,
Roof'd by the vaulted sky,
And wind and wave, with awful tone,
Proclaim His Deity.
By human hands, alone;—
Where power and wisdom are display'd,
There is His presence known:
He for His fane, doth ocean own,
Roof'd by the vaulted sky,
And wind and wave, with awful tone,
Proclaim His Deity.
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Then think not that the Sabbath-day
For earth alone was given;
Since in the sea, He hath His way,
Whose throne is set in heaven:
From many a bark o'er ocean driven,
Believe that there must be
Both praise and prayer, at morn and even,
On Sabbaths kept at sea.
For earth alone was given;
Since in the sea, He hath His way,
Whose throne is set in heaven:
From many a bark o'er ocean driven,
Believe that there must be
Both praise and prayer, at morn and even,
On Sabbaths kept at sea.
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