 | Sacra Poesis |  |
DEVOTION.
If melody of numbers and idea,If sweet expression of a beautiful thought,
Be poetry,—why should the minstrel's harp
Be silent only in a Saviour's praise?
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And when the mind expands to lovely themes,
Like a pure snowdrop to the smile of day,
How can it clothe the immaterial soul
Of poetry, the swift idea, in words
Of aught but melody?—Awake, my harp,
Awake! and pour the gushing flood of song,
The flood of praise: in sympathy with thee,
The strings that bind my thrilling heart to earth
Shall tremble with respondent extasy!
Methinks myself could be a living harp,
And only live in a Redeemer's praise;
Methinks this soul could overflow with song,
And in deep anthems hymn itself away,—
But, ah! touch Thou the chords, Almighty One—
Wake the full concert of my tense affections,
That I may love, and live, and die for Thee!
| Sacra Poesis | |