Book IX

Book IX.
 
The glory of the Messiah’s kingdom ie the chief end of the dispensations of Providence. The vicissitudes of kings and kingdoms, and all the stupendous events which shine in ancient annals, were chiefly iniportant as they served to prepare the way, and spread the triumphs of Him who was “a light to lighten the Gentiles.” For this God gave the learning of the world to Greece, and its empire to Rome. Both contributed to facilitate and extend the victories of the Gospel. — Dr. Mason, New-York.
 
Argument
 
The extirpation of the Jewish polity followed by the downfall of Paganism, on the conversion of the Roman emperors to the faith of the Gospel. — Idolatry introduced into the world by the arch-enemy of mankind, to subvert the rule and the worship of Christ. — The reign of Satan thus maintained in the fallen spirit of man. — A principle of instability combined with false greatness. — Rejoicings of the Church, on account of her deliverance from the persecuting power of her enemies, celebrated in the symbolical language of the prophetic Scriptures, and in accordance with historic testimony. — Important benefits resulting from this change in outward circumstances, duly appreciated by those who have been the subjects of persecution. — Prosperity and enlargement of the Church. — Conversion of distant and barbarous nations, the result of ardent missionary zeal. — Decay of that spirit in the Church one probable reason of the retarded triumphs of Christianity. — Ulphilas, apostle of the Goths. — His labours for the propagation of the Gospel. — Translation of the Scriptures into the Gothic language. — Reappearance of the same spirit in the present age. — A digression.
 
 
As Messiah hath done to the antichristian powers of old, so shall he do to all others, before or at his second advent.                                                                                                             –Horne.
 
 
    Messiah conquers! Salem’s sacred heights
Proud Rome has laid in ashes! hurl’d her lights
From heaven’s calm sphere, beneath a frowning sky,
In ray less gloom, extinguish’d orbs to lie;
Or, wandering wild, ‘mid dim chaotic shade,
Where danger dwells, and howling storms invade,
To gleam, portentous, through the dreary waste,
As lurid meteors by the whirlwind chased.
    Yes, from his holy hill the’ eternal King
Hath vex’d them in his ire! the tempest’s wing
Hath scatter’d, as stern Winter’s borean blast
Drives the sear’d spoils, from withering forests cast,
He hath despised the vain, the impious thought,
The proud device to swift confusion brought;
He bears alike the sceptre and the rod;
Bow down, ye princes, tremble at his nod!
With prostrate awe accept his proffer’d grace,
Lest Vengeance rise, and spurn you from his face;
Lest, dash’d as vessels of his wrath aside,
Ye perish in your loftiness of pride.
    Shall Israel drink, and shall not Edom taste
The cup of bitterness? Shall judgment waste
The vineyard planted by Jehovah’s hand,
Yet peaceful leave the rank, uncultured land?
No! other trophies wait the Victor’s brow;
Proud Rome must stoop, the haughty Cesars bow,
Infernal demons feel his vengeful ire,
Their altars perish, and their priests retire;
Their sumptuous shrines in crumbling dust decay
Their sculptured forms be cast despised away,
Nor costly gifts receive, nor worship vain.
No! hell’s dark hosts, beneath Messiah’s reign,
Swift from aerial heights stern Judgment casts,
As sulphurous meteors swept by whirlwind blasts.
    In earliest hour, with treacherous, glozing lies,
Seductive arts, and specious subtleties,
Strove that arch foe, by heaven disown’d, to gain
Worship and rule on earth. His impious reign
On human guilt, and ignorance, and pride,
The dire usurper rais’d; and deep and wide
Prepared the strong foundations of his throne.
It tower’d aloft, and bright emblazon’d shone
In all the gorgeous lure of earthly state;
The wondering world before hell’s potentate
Bow’d prostrate down, obsequious td his sway.
And captive in the toils of Falsehood lay;
God of a rebel race Apollyon reign’d.
And temples, altars, rites, his rule sustain’d.
    Years rolled on years; still leagued in dire revolt,
The nations own’d a deity whose bolt
Shook in terrific wrath a fiery rod,
Or waved a wand, which o’er them as they trod
The verge of hell, a veiling mist distill’d,
And those dim shades with specious phantoms fill’d;
Spectres, who held the lure of earthly joy,
Wore Pleasure’s rosy garland to decoy;
Or, wreathed with ivy, from the clustering vine
Press’d the bright goblet of nectareous wine;
Held to the thirsty lip the sparkling draught,
Exulting while deluded Folly quaff’d
Fell poison, oozing from the serpent’s fang,
Then writhed, convulsive, in the mortal pang.
    ‘Twas bold and impious daring, even in hell,
Though fierce in wrath, in pride insatiable,
To climb Jehovah’s throne; yet men admired,
And sang loud plaudits as the fiend inspired;
Paid willing homage to the tyrant’s shrine,
And braved the wrath of Majesty Divine.
Yes; Genius wove her laurel crown to grace
The idol’s darkling brow; Art came to place
Her exquisite achievements at his feet;
And Beauty came, and scatter’d roses sweet;
Valour, with crested helm, and glittering sword,
Advancing to fierce conflict, meek, implored
Help from the fiend of blood; and Victory gave
To him the trophies of the conquer’d brave;
Courage sprang forth at his command; and Fame
Sent on her trumpet’s loudest blast his name;
Ambition planted on each craggy height
Which toil and danger yielded, in the sight
Of wondering crowds, the idol’s standard dire;
For him the recreant minstrel tuned his lyre.
Soothing with dulcet sounds the’ enamour’d throng,
And drew in Folly’s downward path along,
And o’er their eyes a mantling veil dispread,
And changed, with magic touch, the features dread
Of hell’s foul demon to the angel guise
Of spirits nurtured in ambrosial skies;
Philosophy, with subtlest thoughts perplex’d,
Upheld the idol throne; and Reason, vex’d,
And urged, and thwarted, let her lamp expire;
While devious Passion, unrestrain’d Desire,
And hoodwink’d Ignorance his rule obey’d,
Unconscious, basking in the tyrant’s shade.
    There is no basis for the throne of pride!
What, though it towers aloft, and scatters wide
Its beams of garish glory; still it stands,
A crumbling mountain, on the sliding sands.
So stood hell’s dire dominion, when the blast
Of the Eternal o’er its splendours pass’d;
When sudden darkness veil’d the idol’s shrine,
And stricken by a secret arm Divine,
The dragon’s throne, in shivering fragments laid,
Messiah’s wrath, Messiah’s might display’d;
When, chased as chaff before the mountain wind,
His breath dispersed the troublers of mankind,
Remanded demons to the realms of night,
And o’er the world diffused his own supernal light.
    Messiah dealt the dread avenging blow,
He laid the proud colossal fabric low,
Rear’d by Satanic art. His cross on high
With brightening glory fill’d the ambient sky;
He gave its lustre to the Cesar’s view,
And o’er his Church the eagle banner threw;
Bade kings to her extend their fostering care,
And Rome a covert from the storm prepare.
    Then Hymns of praise enraptured seraphs sang,
Then loud, reverberant hallelujahs rang
Through heaven’s star-studded vault; then martyrs raised
Unwithering palms of victory, and praised
Jehovah and the Lamb; then, glorious stood,
Emerged from Tribulation’s stormy flood,
Confessors, countless, round the sardine throne,
And mystic powers, ‘mid heaven’s dominions known,
Pre-eminent in might: then elders, bless’d,
Exulting rose; one voice, one song confess’d
Messiah’s name Divine; sonorous fell
The mighty anthem’s undulating swell,
Then rose, in hallow’d ecstasy of praise,
To Him whose hand the’ eternal sceptre sways;
Whose might had cast the dire accuser down,
And crush’d the dragon with his anger’s frown.
Then, too, from earth went up the gladsome voice
Of such as in the conqueror’s spoils rejoice;
Then she whose lucid form transfused the rays
Of heaven’s eternal Sun, proclaim’d his praise;
With starry circlet crown’d, she walk’d in light;
Beneath her feet revolved the orb of night;
Messiah’s arm had crush’d her mortal foe,
Laid with sharp sword the writhing dragon low;
Her sorrowing travail with a wondrous birth
Had strangely closed, and given the subject earth,
With Rome’s proud purple, to her hallow’d sway,
And changed her suffering night to sweet and joyous day.
Yes! then transfix’d beneath the’ Avenger’s sword
Lay fierce Leviathan, whose wrath had pour’d
The blood of martyrs o’er earth’s fertile plains,
Dyed vales and mountains with its crimson stains.
Then waved aloft the consecrated sign;
Then glad confessors hymn’d the Name Divine;
Then, in the ear of Heaven, one rushing voice,
As multitudinous waters, cried, “Rejoice!
Rejoice! for now Messiah’s Church is free!
His holy arm hath gain’d the victory!
Down from his throne, by heavenly puissance hurl’d,
No more hell’s dragon-rule affrights the world,
Nor Rome’s imperial sceptre dreadful gleams,
Nor blood of martyr’d saints in sanguine current streams,”
    Is morning welcome to the wistful eye,
Uplifted oft to midnight’s ebon sky?
Falls vernal music grateful on the ear,
From sylvan glades, where wintry tempests drear
Have held their sullen reign? Is healthful bloom
Fair, on the cheek reviving from the tomb?
Is rest from toil to swarthy Labour sweet?
Does martial Glory his triumphant seat
Ascend exulting, when the field is won ?
Yes! sweet is victory, sweet the cheerful sun,
Sweet is the bloom of health, the sprightly voice
Of vernal tribes, when sylvan glades rejoice;
And sweet is rest to toil. But he alone
Whose quivering spirit, agonized, has known
The pangs of parting life, the wrench from bliss,
The wreck of nature’s holiest charities,
The pinnacle, where trembling faith, assail’d
By fierce temptation, in that hour had fail’d
But for celestial succours; — he alone,
To whom hell’s arsenal of tortures shown,
The Spirit of Apostasy the while
Proffering earth’s treasures with bewitching smile; —
Yes! he who, tested thus, in nerve, in soul,
Hath felt his natural weakness, the control
Of sympathies, less only than Divine: —
He, he can, reverent, bless the Power benign
That curb’d the tyrant rage of earth and hell;
That from the ravenous vulture’s talons fell
Rescued the trembling dove; who, o’er the head
Of her who bore his cross, his banner spread,
Shelter’d his suffering Church beneath the wing
Of fostering majesty, and deign’d to bring
Even lofty Cesar-, o’er his throne of pride,
To wave the standard of the Crucified.
    The sons of God rejoiced: Auspicious rose
That lucid morning, from a night of woes;
O’er cloudless skies reviving sunbeams spread;
Bright, on the Church their heavenly infliience shed;
And flow’d from her in holy radiance forth,
To chase the darkness of the cheerless earth.
No longer now, with stern and sullen swell,
The night wind raged, or sweeping torrent fell,
Or hail, loud rattling, smote the rising blade,
Or Ughtnings, low the lofty cedars laid;
But sweet tranquillity, with halcyon plume,
Fann’d the soft ether, dropping rich perfume,
Healing, as Gilead’s balsam, from her wing,
And odoriferous as the flowers of spring.
    The blood of saints and prophets, though it stain
Maternal earth, can never fall in vain:
Like precious seed, to genial soil consign’d.
Which sleeps beneath till suns and vernal wind
Relax stern winter’s grasp; then, bright, appear
The blade redundant, the luxuriant ear,
Which, ripening in the smile of summer, yield
Uncounted increase from the cultured field.
So sprang from earth the’ imperishable grain
By persecution sown. The furrow’d plain
Not richer its augmented harvest shows.
Than from the crimson’d graves of martyrs rose
A seed, to swell the Church’s progeny,
To spread Messiah’s name, to bow the knee
To Him whose presence in that fiery hour
Had given the conquering faith, the lofty power
To trample on the baits of sin, to scorn,
Like Him, the scoff, the threat, the scourge, the thorn;
And, patient, while the long protracted death
Still gave them up to agony, their breath
In its last flutterings to devote to prayer;
Prayer even for those whose fell, whose murderous care
Would sinking nature’s energies sustain,
To prove yet untried emphasis of pain.
    Ungerminant the precious Seed Divine
Fell not to earth; nor did heaven’s lustre shine
In vain, reflected on the saintly mind,
From dimming dross of earthly cares refined,
From Passion’s turbid elements set free,
And wash’d from stain of sin’s impurity.
No, not in vain the Saviour’s form impress’d
Its holy semblance on the Christian’s breast;
It beam’d in light, in charity, in love,
In zeal, enkindled from the flames above,
In patience, firm, affliction’s yoke to bear,
In heaven-born sanctity, in pleading prayer,
In scorn of earth, in sense of sacred things,
In sweetest hope, upborne on starry wings
Above the tumults of this whirling sphere,
In faith, surmounting death, on judgment near
Fixing the calm, intense, uplifted eye,
In rapture antedating victory,
Exultant gazing on the promised crown,
Intent to lay the curtain’d dwelling down,
To seek its loftier element, and leave
To worldlings all a shadowy world can give.
    So shone the Church, in virgin lustre bright,
Like Moses, from the beatific sight
To Israel’s camp return’d: Communion high,
Admitted fellowship with Deity,
On Sinai’s height, or Zion’s, glorious shed
Unearthly lustre round the sainted head;
Yet all unveil’d die Gospel splendours shine
In calm reflection from their Fount Divine;
Transform’d beneath the all-absorbing blaze,
His saints imbibe his glory’s streaming rays,
In hallow’d light the Saviour’s image show,
And live like Him, and spread his praise below.
    Deep, heartfelt, thankful, rose the holy hymn
Of consentaneous praise: not seraphim
With prompter pinions cleave the azure sky,
When, earthward, on spontaneous ministry
To Mercy’s heirs they come; not swifter move
Bright angel powers, constrain’d by duteous love.
Than saints, themselves redeem’d, with quickening zeal
Flew ardent forth, impell’d to seek the weal
Of a dark world in death. With glorious power
The’ Eternal Spirit crown’d the favouring hour,
Pour’d copious forth his hallowing influence sweet;
And lo, as stars innumerous, at the feet
Of empyrean Majesty, appear’d
The Churches’ kindling lights, sublime ensphered
In southern, in septentrion skies they shone,
From east to west, around the’ eternal throne,
Roll’d in beneficence and beauty, bright
As planets radiant in the crown of night.
    Forth through mid heaven the sealing angel flew;
No breezy wind o’er tranquil ether blew;
Jehovah’s word repress’d the stormy sweep
Of rushing tempests o’er the briny deep;
Forbade impetuous hurricanes to break
Earth’s quiet rest, her leafy forests shake,
Or rouse her woodland tenants, till the sign
Of mystic union with the Seed Divine,
The covenant seal, at Heaven’s command impress’d.
The myriad trophies of the faith attest.
Peace ruled the scene; beneath her cheering ray
The mild evangelist pursued his way;
Plough’d the rude ocean, trod the desert strand,
Explored each barbarous and each polish’d land;
Inhaled Arabia’s spicy gales, and sought
Bold Ishmael’s sons, by covenant mercy bought;
Through Egypt’s arid plains, beside the stream
Of stately Nilus, scorch’d by summer’s beam,
Uncool’d by fleecy clouds, intent he pass’d,
O’er Ethiopia’s barren soil to cast
The precious seeds of life; to farthest Ind,
To Persia’s pearly shores, where, soft, reclined
‘Mid roseate bloom that drank the golden light,
And balm’d the fragrant ether, on the bright,
The glorious sun, in adoration gazed
Wilder’d idolatry; and, impious, raised
His token to the skies; for here the reign
Of Satan linger’d yet, and o’er the slain
On Truth’s high altar, by infernal guile,
He cast a bitter and malignant smile.
Yet, forward to the fount baptismal press’d
Full many a fervent, many a faithful breast,
Elate to bear a martyr’s glorious name,
Like him, aspirants for immortal fame.
    Caucasian snows restrain’d not heavenly zeal;
Iberia’s lofty mountains joy’d to feel
Its sweet, its solvent power; the vale, the plain.
The sceptred monarch, and the sturdy swain,
Welcomed the messenger of peace, whose light
More beauteous shone than on the silvery height
Of towering Ararat resplendent beams
The broad, majestic sun; and thousand streams
Of tinted glory o’er its dazzling snows
On rifted peaks in boundless radiance throws.
    Rude, hyperborean realms the truth received,
From holy teachers who that truth believed;
Who told the bliss their own pure spirits felt,
Whom sacred sympathy had taught to melt
In pitying tenderness for souls bereft
Of happiness, of hope. In deserts left
As sheep unshepherded alone to stray
‘Mid devious pitfalls; o’er the thorny way
To wander, trackless, through impervious night,
Nor friendly call to guide their course aright;
Nor rod, nor crook, amid the tangled gloom,
To snatch the wanderer from impending doom.
    O had the Church that heavenly zeal retain’d,
Had love’s pure impulse in her bosom reign’d,
Then would not earth its dreary wilds present.
Then would not man in awful banishment
Have still been found, from God, from heaven averse.
In all the darkness of the withering curse!
The Gospel, like the sun’s effulgent sphere,
Had chased the dreary mists of sin and fear,
And light, even now, had deck’d this smiling globe
In Virtue’s coronal and Beauty’s robe.
    High on the lists of hallow’d fame, and bright
Amid those orbs which bore the Church’s light,
Star of a darken’d hemisphere, appear’d
Illustrious Ulphilas, who, glorious, cheer’d
The gloomy regions of barbaric shade,
And holy truth to Gothic tribes display’d,
With nervous arm the Gospel standard bore,
To untaught climes, where floods impetuous roar,
And forests frown, and rugged mountains rise
In towering grandeur to the darken’d skies.
By love impell’d, and apostolic zeal,
He mildly taught barbarian hearts to feel;
Won warlike rudeness to the sovereign sway
Of conquering grace; bade Scythian hordes obey
The gentle rule of charity and peace,
Receive the cross and bid stern conflict cease.
Endow’d with gifts of learning, genius, grace,
‘Twas his a sphere of lofty light to trace;
Himself had drank the living streams that flow
From truth’s pure fount to desert lands below;
And, urged by Heaven, his ardent spirit sought
To lead its waters through those realms of drought;
To raise the stone that hid the crystal spring,
The current from the rifted rock to bring;
Celestial truths to untaught minds reveal,
And from the scroll of wisdom loose the seal.
    For this, with patient toil and plastic mind,
He strove in forms of letter’d phrase to bind
The stammerer’s rude, unmodulated speech,
And learned lore ‘mid Nature’s sons to teach;
To barbarous tongues transferr’d the Truth Divine;
Bade Heaven’s own light on sterile darkness shine;
Gave Wisdom’s oracles to guide the blind,
To teach the lost eternal life to find;
With utterance clothed the Spirit’s silent word:
That Voice Divine, lo, listening nations heard,
Hail’d the glad jubilee of mercy come,
Obey’d the welcome call, and sought the wanderers’ home.
    Hail, bright evangelist, immortal sage!
Yet lives thy spirit in this younuer age!
Even now, with patient love, with hallow’d zeal,
Divine Philanthropy removes the seal
From Wisdom’s scroll sublime; even now unfolds
Those sacred mysteries which no eye beholds
Save in the Beam Divine; that living Word,
Even now to distant barbarous climes transferred,
Attests, ‘mid tribes of rude and varied speech;
That holy love’s enkindled flame can reach
From age to age, an unextinguish’d glow,
While Sorrow sighs, or Misery mourns below,
Or Ignorance her misty mantle spreads,
Or baleful Vice his noxious poison sheds,
Or guilty Crime with blood-stain’d step defiles,
Or Error clouds the earth, or Falsehood foul beguiles.
    From varied climes Messiah’s offspring came;
Earth’s rudest dialects rehearsed his Name;
His Name, harmonious, graced her purest speech,
Rose from the sea-girt island’s stormy beach;
O’er wide-spread continents the trumpet’s sound,
Sonorous, pour’d its gladdening echoes round;
O’er mountain tops, sublime, from height to height
It roll’d, auspicious, as the kindling light
From orient sunbeams cast; the lovely vale,
The waving woodland, on the scented gale
Welcom’d its holy melodies; and loud
Its strong vibrations rose amid the crowd
Of congregated multitudes, whose ear,
Stunn’d by rude dissonance, is slow to hear
The music of the skies; the glittering spire,
The towering dome, that to the solar fire
Flung back its golden splendours, sent the voice
Of triumph forth, and bade the world rejoice;
Earth raised her anthem to the’ Eternal King,
And angels tuned their lyres, with saints his praise to sing»
 
 
 
THE SKY LARK,
 
A DIGRESSION,
 
SACRED TO A SEASON OF BEREAVEMENT AND
 
AFFLICTION.
 
Sweet chorister; who fain on outstretch’d wing
    Wouldst mount to heaven to meet the fiery car
    Of day’s proud regent, while the morning star
Yet gems the liquid sky, and every thing
But thou in stillness sleeps;
Save where, ‘mid cragged steeps,
The moaning mountain blast winds lowly murmuring.
 
I see thee leave thy grassy nest, and soar,
    And spread thy light wings on the buoyant breeze;
    I hear thee, sweet as angel minstrelsies,
On Morn’s awakening ear thy raptures pour;
Dim twilight’s dusky sea
Thou cleavest as joyously,
As gallant vessel glides toward the long-wish’d-for shore.
 
 
Yet lingering mists obstruct the orient beam,
    The sighing breezes freshen to a gale,
    Against thy flight opposing winds prevail,
And now thy fluttering, faltering pinions seem
To quail beneath the blast
By angry Eurus cast
From his bleak realm of clouds, whence rushing torrents stream.
 
Descend, sweet child of harmony and spring,
    The ruthless tempest is too harsh for thee;
    Soon heaven’s pure ether shall from storms be free,
And thou, remounting on elastic wing,
Attune thy warbling lay
To the bright lord of day,
As though an angel’s lyre had taught thee how to sing.
 
Would that the Muse, whom Sorrow’s cheerless gale
    Hath forced to stoop from her aerial height,—
    Would that like thee she could resume her flight,
And halcyon skies, and sunny mountains hail!
Expand the drooping wing.
And soar like thee, and sing.
And view the orient light above the storm prevail!
 
But ah! unlike the pearly drops of morn,
 
    Which glistering fall, nor leave a trace behind,
    When the bright rose-bud yields them to the wind,
Are the dense damps from sorrow’s meteors born;
They cramp the ruffled wing,
Which strives in vain to spring;
They dim the tearful eye, and leave the heart forlorn.
 
Yet, as the sweet lark sees the shower subside,
    The Muse, perchance, may view the clouds dispart.
    Come, then, O come, let hope inspire thine heart,
And whispering Patience bid thee firm abide;
For holy Faith is nigh,
And heavenly Sympathy
Shall in its downy wings the troubled spirit hide.
 
Should this world’s storms impede the onward course
    Of those who soar toward heaven’s eternal hills?
    Where dews more soft than Hermon’s height distils
Fall ever, and the pure, perennial Source
Of life’s full stream is found.
O, toward that hallow’d ground
Urge, urge thy steadfast step, with new, with holier force!
 
Resume thy song: its sacred tones will cheer
    Thy lonely hours of solitude and grief;
    The’ appointed span of human toil is brief;
And thou, a steward, must, ere long, appear
Before the Master’s eye:
That hour of scrutiny,
That fearful, dread, decisive day is near.
 
Was heaven thy theme? His kingdom whom the earth
    Shall soon her sole, her sovereign Lord confess?
    Go, then; though storms invade the wilderness,
And sing of Him whose glorious goings forth,
With still divergent light,
Like morning’s splendours bright,
Shall chase the eastern clouds, and cheer the distant north.
 
O that some angel, who, on deeds of love,
    Glides bright, though viewless, through the ambient air,
    Would on his wings thy drooping spirit bear
Through that pure hyaline that beams above,
And bid thee, calm, look down,
Though gathering tempests frown,
And rolling clouds beneath through rifted valleys move.
 
Where rest those ministering seraphs bright
    Who throng’d attendant on the parting breath
    Of friends, as life beloved? Who watch’d till death,
Stern minister of Heaven, had quench’d in night
The spark of quivering life;
Then, from that painful strife
Their kindred spirits bore to heaven’s unwaning light.
 
Would that returning to this darker sphere,
    On acts of grace, and embassies benign,
    Their golden harps, attuned to themes Divine,
Might wake thy song, engage thy listening ear.
To learn their notes of praise,
Their glad hosannas raise,
To Him whose smile is joy, whose presence chases fear.
 
True, thou art in the desert waste, alone;
    Yet Wisdom is the friend of Solitude.
    On many a wild and barren mountain rude
The sunbeams with intensest light have shone;
And many a deep recess
And cavern’d wilderness,
Have felt the present Grod, to saints and prophets known„
 
To thee, if meekly, humbly, on thy way
    To Canaan’s rest with patient step thu go,
    To thee shall Abraham’s God his glory show,
With Isaac shalt thou meditate and pray,
With sainted Moses stand,
Behind His covering hand,
Whose formless glory pass’d by Horeb’s summits grey.
 
To thee, when sinks the whirlwind storm to rest,
    The dove-like Spirit shall in whispers come,
    And silent enter on his peaceful home,
The calm recesses of thy tranquil breast;
While, like Elijah, thou
In veiled reverence bow,
And learn Jehovah’s will, in gentlest sounds express’d.
 
Arouse thee, then! Dejected Muse, awake!
    Pursue thy course, in spite of storms or showers;
    Thine is a theme might tempt an angel’s powers;
Yet thou thy reed attuning for His sake
Who gave that reed to thee,
Though simplest melody
Be all its tones command, He will thy offering take. 
 
Book X
 
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