God-God be praised! who form'd us thus,
He was, and is, and shall endure:
Pure-he shall make all nature pure,
And fix his dwelling here with us.
What sweeter thought, what stronger token,
Than that his everlasting hand
Body and soul in holy band
Hath bound, that never shall be broken!
'Tis he whose kind and generous care
This lovely garden's range hath planted,
Where nought that charms desire is wanted,
And joy's a guest immortal here;-
The fount of life, whence waters living
O'erspreading all the garden flow-
Bright flowers upon their borders grow,
While to the trees life's food they're giving.
Here blooms the life-imparting tree,
Whose fruit, just hid in silvery leaves,
Makes man a spirit, and retrieves
His weakness and satiety.
The dews, from morning's vault that fall,
Are honey'd manna on our tongue:
Shall not his hallow'd praise be sung,
Whom nature sings-the Source of all?
O blest be he who blessings pours!
Who fills the heart with tenderness,
And with his richest gifts will bless-
He wondrous-whom our tongue adores.
A full, o'erflowing horn of good
Upon our Eden he has shower'd,
And peace, and hope, and joy embower'd In its sweet silent solitude.
Yes! now I feel the charm divine,
Yes! now I feel the bliss, the pride,
To press thee, dearest! to my side,
And join my early vows to thine.
A unity, in love cemented,
Blest by thy presence, and by thee
Gilded with smiles and purity,
May make my exiled soul contented.
O sister-daughter-fairest bride,
What shall I call thee?-Paradise
Has million flowers that smiling rise,
To kiss thy feet well satisfied.
Love! one shall be our will, and one
Our fate, from the first dawn of day,
When the bright sun begins his way,
To when his weary course is done.
Peace, tenderness, and joy-a shrine
Sacred to cheerful love—and praise
To him, the Lord of ceaseless days,
Who blended thy fond heart with mine!
PRAISE AND GRATITUDE ON JEHOVAH'S DAY.
KING of the world! I worship thee;
Lord of the mind! the Sabbath 's thine :
A contrite heart, a bended knee,
To-day shall be my corn, my wine.
A choral song for sacrifice
Will mount as fire, and heavenward own
The green-leaved earth, through joys and sighs,
A satellite round Mercy's throne.
The moon comes up to wake the dew,
And hang a star on every leaf;
The sun can take a rainbow hue,
To kiss away the meadow's grief;
The wave will lay its buoyance by,
To let the cloud take anchor there;
Earth, through her flowers, salutes the sky;
The sky meets earth in balmy air.
And I was born to see and say
How beauty beams, without, within:
From the fly, made tó gild a day,
To my own soul, outliving sin.
Even now I feel thy cherubim
Have come to me from thee, All-wise!—
Then, Silence, thou shalt be my hymn,
And thought, my only sacrifice.
THERE IS A TONGUE IN EVERY LEAF.
THERE is a tongue in every leaf,
A voice in every rill!
A voice that speaketh everywhere,
In flood and fire, through earth and air;
A tongue that's never still!
'Tis the great spirit, wide diffused
Through everything we see,
That with our spirits communeth
Of things mysterious-Life, and Death-
Time-and Eternity!
I see him in the blazing sun,
And in the thunder cloud;
I hear him in the mighty roar
That rusheth through the forest hoar,
When winds are piping loud.
I see him, hear him, everywhere,
In all things-darkness, light,
Silence, and sound; but most of all,
When slumber's dusky curtains fall
At the dead hour of night.
I feel him in the silent dews,
By grateful Earth betray'd;
I feel him in the gentle showers,
The soft south wind, the breath of flowers,
The sunshine, and the shade.
And yet--ungrateful that I am !—
I've turned in sullen mood
From all these things, whereof he said,
When the great whole was finished,
That they were “very good.”
My sadness on the loveliest things
Fell like unwholesome dew;
The darkness that encompass'd me,
The gloom I felt so palpably,
Mine own dark spirit threw.
Yet he was patient, slow to wrath,
Though every day provoked
By selfish, pining discontent,
Acceptance cold or negligent,
And promises revoked.
And still the same rich feast was spread
For my insensate heart-
Not always so—I woke again,
To join Creation's rapturous strain,
"O Lord! how good thou art!"
The clouds drew up, the shadows fled,
The glorious sun broke out;
And love, and hope, and gratitude
Dispell'd that miserable mood
Of darkness and of doubt.
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