THE MILLENNIUM. BUT who shall see the glorious day, When pain shall cease, and every tear Then, Judah! thou no more shalt mourn Thy days of splendor shall return, The fount of life shall then be quaff'd In peace by all who come, And every wind that blows shall waft HYMN TO THE STARS. Ay, there ye shine, and there have shone, Each rolling burningly, alone, Through boundless space and countless time. Ay, there ye shine! the golden dews That pave the realms by seraphs trod; There, through yon echoing vault, diffuse Ye visible spirits! bright as erst Young Eden's birthnight saw ye shine Yet sparkling from the hand divine; Enshrined an everlasting soul! And does it not-since your bright throngs Could man but see what ye have seen, From all that is, to what has been, The glance how rich! the range how vast! The birth of time, the rise, the fall Of empires, myriads, ages flown, Thrones, cities, tongues, arts, worships,—all The things whose echoes are not gone. Ye saw rapt Zoroaster send His soul into your mystic reign; Ye saw the adoring Sabian bend— The living hills his mighty fane! Beneath his blue and beaming sky, He worshipped at your lofty shrine, And deemed he saw, with gifted eye, The Godhead in his works divine. And there ye shine, as if to mock The children of a mortal sire. The storm, the bolt, the earthquake's shock, Drought, famine, plague, and blood, and flame, Ay, there ye roll-emblems sublime Of Him, whose spirit o'er us moves, Beyond the clouds of grief and crime, Still shining on the world he loves :Nor is one scene to mortals given, That more divides the soul and sod, Than yon proud heraldry of heaven— Yon burning blazonry of God! HYMN FROM PSALM CXLVIII. BEGIN, my soul, the exalted lay! And praise the Almighty's name. Lo! heaven, and earth, and seas, and skies, To swell the inspiring theme. Ye fields of light, celestial plains, Your Maker's wondrous power proclaim! Ye angels, catch the thrilling sound! Let every listening saint above Join, ye loud spheres, the vocal choir; Soon as gray evening gilds the plain, Thou heaven of heavens, his vast abode, Whate'er a blooming world contains, Ye dragons, sound his awful name Let every element rejoice: Ye thunders, burst with awful voice His praise in softer notes declare, To him, ye graceful cedars, bow; Tell, when affrighted nature shook, And trembled at his frown. Ye flocks, that haunt the humble vale, Wake, all ye mounting tribes, and sing; To him who shaped your finer mould, Let man, by nobler passions sway'd, Till heaven's broad arch rings back the sound, Ye, whom the charms of grandeur please, Nursed on the downy lap of ease, Fall prostrate at his throne: |