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RELIGIOUS MUSINGS;

A DESULTORY POEM WRITTEN ON THE CHRISTMAS

EVE OF 1794.

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HIS is the time, when most divine to hear,
The voice of adoration rouses me,

As with a Cherub's trump: and high up-
borne,

Yea, mingling with the choir, I seem to view
The vision of the heavenly multitude,

Who hymned the song of peace o'er Bethlehem's fields!

Yet Thou more bright than all the angel blaze, That harbingered Thy birth, Thou, Man of woes! Despised Galilean! For the great

Invisible (by symbols only seen)

With a peculiar and surpassing light

Shines from the visage of the oppressed good man,
When heedless of himself the scourged Saint
Mourns for the oppressor. Fair the vernal mead,
Fair the high grove, the sea, the sun, the stars;
True impress each of their creating Sire!
Yet nor high grove, nor many-coloured mead,
Nor the green ocean with his thousand isles,
Nor the starred azure, nor the sovran sun,
E'er with such majesty of portraiture
Imaged the supreme beauty uncreate,
As Thou, meek Saviour! at the fearful hour
When Thy insulted anguish winged the prayer

Harped by Archangels, when they sing of mercy! Which when the Almighty heard from forth His throne

Diviner light filled Heaven with ecstasy!

Heaven's hymnings paused: and Hell her yawning Closed a brief moment.

[mouth

Lovely was the death

Of Him whose life was Love! Holy with power
He on the thought-benighted sceptic beamed
Manifest Godhead, melting into day
What floating mists of dark idolatry
Broke and misshaped the omnipresent Sire:
And first by fear uncharmed the drowsed Soul.
Till of its nobler nature it 'gan feel

Dim recollections; and thence soared to hope,
Strong to believe whate'er of mystic good
The Eternal dooms for His immortal sons.
From hope and firmer faith to perfect love
Attracted and absorbed and centred there
God only to behold, and know, and feel,
Till by exclusive consciousness of God
All self-annihilated it shall make
God its identity: God all in all !

We and our Father one!

And blest are they,

Who in this fleshly world, the elect of heaven,
Their strong eye darting through the deeds of men,
Adore with steadfast unpresuming gaze

Him Nature's essence, mind, and energy!
And gazing, trembling, patiently ascend
Treading beneath their feet all visible things
As steps, that upward to their Father's throne

Lead gradual-else nor glorified nor loved.
They nor contempt embosom nor revenge:
For they dare know of what may seem deform
The Supreme Fair sole operant: in Whose sight
All things are pure, His strong controlling Love
Alike from all educing perfect good.

Theirs too celestial courage, inly armed-
Dwarfing earth's giant brood, what time they muse
On their great Father, great beyond compare!
And marching onwards view high o'er their heads
His waving banners of Omnipotence.

Who the Creator love, created might

Dread not within their tents no terrors walk.
For they are holy things before the Lord

Aye unprofaned, though earth should league with
God's altar grasping with an eager hand

[hell; Fear, the wild-visaged, pale, eye-starting wretch, Sure-refuged hears his hot pursuing fiends

Yell at vain distance. Soon refreshed from Heaven
He calms the throb and tempest of his heart.
His countenance settles; a soft solemn bliss
Swims in his eye-his swimming eye upraised:
And Faith's whole armour glitters on his limbs!
And thus transfigured with a dreadless awe,
A solemn hush of soul, meek he beholds
All things of terrible seeming: yea, unmoved
Views e'en the immitigable ministers

That shower down vengeance on these latter days.
For kindling with intenser Deity

From the celestial Mercy-seat they come,

And at the renovating wells of love

Have filled their vials with salutary wrath,

To sickly nature more medicinal

Than what soft balm the weeping good man pours
Into the lone despoiled traveller's wounds!

Thus from the elect, regenerate through faith,
Pass the dark passions and what thirsty cares
Drink up the spirit, and the dim regards
Self-centre. Lo they vanish! or acquire
New names, new features-by supernal grace
Enrobed with light, and naturalized in Heaven.
As when a shepherd on a vernal morn

Through some thick fog creeps timorous with slow
Darkling he fixes on the immediate road

His downward eye: all else of fairest kind
Hid or deformed. But lo! the bursting sun!

[foot,

Touched by the enchantment of that sudden beam
Straight the black vapour melteth, and in globes
Of dewy glitter gems each plant and tree;
On every leaf, on every blade it hangs!
Dance glad the new-born intermingling rays,
And wide around the landscape streams with glory!

There is one Mind, one omnipresent Mind,
Omnific. His most holy name is Love.
Truth of subliming import! with the which
Who feeds and saturates his constant soul,
He from His small particular orbit flies
With blest outstarting! from Himself he flies,
Stands in the sun, and with no partial gaze,
Views all creation; and He loves it all,
And blesses it, and calls it very good!
This is indeed to dwell with the most High!
Cherubs and rapture-trembling Seraphim
Can press no nearer to the Almighty's throne.
But that we roam unconscious, or with hearts

Unfeeling of our universal Sire,

And that in His vast family no Cain
Injures uninjured (in her best-aimed blow
Victorious murder a blind suicide)
Haply for this some younger Angel now
Looks down on human nature: and, behold!
A sea of blood bestrewed with wrecks, where mad
Embattling interests on each other rush

With unhelmed rage!

'Tis the sublime of man,

Our noontide majesty, to know ourselves

Parts and proportions of one wondrous whole!
This fraternizes man, this constitutes

Our charities and bearings. But 'tis God

Diffused through all, that doth make all one whole;
This the worst superstition, Him except

Aught to desire, Supreme Reality!
The plenitude and permanence of bliss!
O Fiends of Superstition! not that oft

The erring priest hath stained with brother's blood
Your grisly idols, not for this may wrath
Thunder against you from the Holy One!
But o'er some plain that steameth to the sun,
Peopled with death; or where more hideous trade
Loud-laughing packs his bales of human anguish;
I will raise up a mourning, O ye Fiends!

And curse your spells, that film the eye of faith,
Hiding the present God; whose Presence lost,
The moral world's cohesion, we become
An anarchy of Spirits! Toy-bewitched,
Made blind by lusts, disherited of soul,
No common centre man, no common sire
Knoweth! A sordid solitary thing,

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