No accents flow, no words ascend;
All utterance faileth there;
But sainted spirits comprehend,
And God accepts the prayer.
EARTH has not anything to shew more fair:
Dull would he be of soul who could pass by
A sight so touching in its majesty :
This city now doth like a garment wear
The beauty of the morning; silent, bare,
Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie
Open unto the fields, and to the sky;
All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
Never did sun more beautifully steep
In his first splendour, valley, rock, or hill;
Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep!
Dear God! the very houses seem to sleep;
And all that mighty heart is lying still.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH, 1770-1850.
LET ALL HIS WORKS PRAISE HIM!
To God, ye choir above, begin
A hymn so loud and strong,
That all the universe may hear,
And join the grateful song.
Praise Him, thou sun, Who dwells unseen
Amidst transcendent light,
Where thy refulgent orb would seem
A spot, as dark as night.
Thou silver moon, ye host of stars,
The universal song
Through the serene and silent night
To listening worlds prolong.—
Sing Him, ye distant worlds and suns,
From whence no travelling ray
Hath yet to us, through ages past,
Had time to make its way.
Assist, ye raging storms, and bear
On rapid wings His praise,
From north to south, from east to west,
Through heaven, and earth, and seas.-
Exert your voice, ye furious fires
That rend the watery cloud, And thunder to this nether world
Your Maker's words aloud.
Ye works of God, that dwell unknown Beneath the rolling main;
Ye birds, that sing among the groves, And sweep the azure plain ;
Ye stately hills, that rear your heads,
And, towering pierce the sky;
Ye clouds, that with an awful pace
Majestic roll on high;
Ye insects small, to which one leaf
Within its narrow sides
A vast extended world displays,
And spacious realms provides;
Ye race, still less than these, with which
The stagnant water teems,
To which one drop, however small,
A boundless ocean seems;
Whate'er ye are, where'er ye dwell,
Ye creatures great or small,
Adore the wisdom, praise the power,
That made and governs all.
And if ye want or sense or sounds
To swell the grateful noise,
Prompt mankind with that sense, and they
Shall find for you a voice.
From all the boundless realms of space
Let loud hosannas sound;
Loud send, ye wondrous works of God,
The grateful concert round.
YE quenchless stars! so eloquently bright,
Untroubled sentries of the shadowy night,
While half the world is lapp'd in downy dreams,
And round the lattice creep your midnight beams,
How sweet to gaze upon your placid eyes,
In lambent beauty looking from the skies!
And when, oblivious of the world, we stray
At dead of night along some noiseless way,
How the heart mingles with the moonlit hour,
As if the starry heavens suffused a power!
Full in her dreamy light, the moon presides,
Shrined in a halo, mellowing as she rides;
And far around, the forest and the stream
Bathe in the beauty of her emerald beam ;
The lull'd winds too, are sleeping in their caves,
No stormy murmurs roll upon the waves;
Nature is hush'd, as if her works adored,
Still'd by the presence of her living Lord!
And now, while through the ocean-mantling haze
A dizzy chain of yellow lustre plays,
And moonlight loveliness hath veil'd the land,
Go, stranger, muse thou by the wave-worn strand:
Centuries have glided o'er the balanced earth,
Myriads have bless'd, and myriads cursed their birth,
Still, yon sky-beacons keep a dimless glare,
Unsullied as the God who throned them there!
Though swelling earthquakes heave the astounded
world,
And king and kingdom from their pride are hurled,
Sublimely calm, they run their bright career,
Unheedful of the storms and changes here.
We want no hymn to hear, or pomp to see,
For all around is deep Divinity!
ROBERT MONTGOMERY, 1808-1855.
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