CLOUDS.
Behold, God is great, and we know him not, neither can the number of His years be searched out.
For He maketh small the drops of water: they pour down rain according to the vapour thereof;
Which the clouds do drop and distil upon man abundantly.
With clouds He covereth the light; and commandeth it not to shine by the cloud that cometh betwixt.—Job, xxxvi. 26, 27, 28, 32.
Who maketh the clouds His chariot; who walketh upon the wings of the wind.—Psalm civ. 3.
While they beheld, He was taken up; and a cloud received Him out of their sight.—Acts, i. 9.
Behold He cometh with clouds; and every eye shall see Him.—Revelation, i. 7.
A cloud lay cradled near the setting sun,
A gleam of crimson tinged its braided snow,
Long had I watch’d the glory moving on,
O’er the still radiance of the lake below:
Tranquil its spirit seem’d, and floated slow,
Even in its very motion there was rest,
While every breath of eve that chanced to blow,
Wafted the traveller to the beauteous west.
Emblem, methought, of the departed soul,
To whose white robe the gleam of bliss is given,
And by the breath of mercy made to roll
Right onward to the golden gates of heaven,
Where to the eye of faith it peaceful lies,
And tells to man his glorious destinies.
J. Wilson.
See’st yon light cloud, the wind is hurrying by?
The eagle’s scarce more rapid in his flight,
’Tis thus the years of youth,—hope—rapture fly,
Clad in attractive hues and robes of light,
Swiftly they fly, but ah! a weary night
Their reign succeeds—a more than midnight gloom,
That gives no peace to morn’s uprising bright,
Nor bids sweet Hope her wonted smile resume.
Ah! yes; though dark our night and drear the tomb,
Through its long vista, lo! the glorious star,
Whose rays from heaven’s bright vestibule illume
Death’s deepest vaults with radiance from afar,
Sun of immortal day! victorious faith
Eyes thy uprising blaze, and triumphs over death.
G. M. J.
I asked the clouds, in their pomp of light,
As they sat in the crimson west at night,
Wherefore they gathered around the sun,
And brightened although his race was run;
When, perhaps, the breezes of night might strew
Their fragile folds into mist and dew?
The clouds replied, “Though we should be driven
Away from our rest, we shall still be in heaven.”
M. A. Browne.
When gathering clouds around I view,
And days are dark, and friends are few;
On Him I lean, who not in vain
Experienced every human pain:
He sees my wants, allays my fears,
And counts and treasures up my tears.
And, oh! when I have safely past
Through every conflict—but the last;
Still, still unchanging, watch beside
My dying bed,—for thou hast died.
Then point to realms of cloudless day,
And wipe the latest tear away.
Grant.
See where yonder cloudlet lingers
On the tranquil verge of day;
The golden sunset with its fingers,
Gilds it with its burnished ray;
Swiftly, calmly, on it glides,
Mingling, melting, into air,
Fainter, fainter—now it hides
In the bosom of its lair.
So I’ve seen the gentle spirit
Linger as it pass’d away,
Softly, brightly glowing, ere it
Faded in eternal day.
Glowing with the light of Heaven—
Light of God’s eternal love:—
Like the cloudlet of the even,
So it pass’d to realms above.
Rev. E. Case.