MY SABBATH SERMON
A growing mocker in a maple tree,
Poured forth first notes with youthful glee;
Like an untried poet born to sing,
He’s proving gifts which fame will bring.
And musing on that Sabbath morn,
With body weary, heart forlorn,
The music of the blithesome bird
Inspired my mind itself to gird
With faith and courage, hope and love,
Beguiling my heart to leap above.
’Tis ever thus, some primal song
Doth make us gentle, brave and strong;
And trustful too, till we can see
With eyes of Him of Galilee—
Sweet Sabbath notes from the amateur,
Which filled my soul with a speedy cure.
The bird will better sing, and I
Shall carol sweetly by and by;
After earth’s songs on vernal sod,
Then high above in the choir of God.
What wondrous choir—how vast, how bright,
With suns and stars, and yet greater Light.
They also sing, as ever they shine,
With a strength of love that is divine.
Yon rolling plain and mountain peak,
Or surging sea and bounding creek;
Or budding rose and lustrous star—
All bid us rise to an avatar,
Above rich valley, and hill’s proud crest,
Above things seen to heaven’s best—
To perfect ones, with the angel throng,
O’er topless hills in endless song!