Now, Christian, now!
Look round, and see what souls are daily dying;
List!—everywhere the voice of human crying
Smiteth the ear;—the moan, the plaint, the sighing,
Come even now.
Rise! gird thyself;—go forth where sorrow weepeth
And ease the pang. Where sin holds guilty revel,
Go tell of God! Where man securely sleepeth
On ruin's verge, go, warn him of the evil
Now, Christian, now!
Now, sinner, now!
Day waneth fast! The noon is spent! To-morrow
Is God's, not thine!—and dost thou hope to borrow
An hour from doom, when bursts the cloud of sorrow
That darkens now?
Nay; the red bolt, e'en now, vindictive flashes
The thunder rolls nearer, and still more near!
Hourly the tide of wrath more sternly dashes
On ruin's rocks!—oh, that thou wouldst but
Now, sinner, now!
Now, Christian, now
Gather thy sheaves—the harvest time is hasting
Gather thy sheaves—the precious grain is wasting!
Too many hours Earth's cup of nectar tasting
Thou'st wasted now!
Up, up!—the Master's coining steps already
Echoing adown the steeps of heaven are heard!
The angel-reapers, with firm hand and steady,
Stand, dim-descried, waiting the signal-word
Now, Christian, now!
SUNSET
The glorious sun, behind the western hills,
Slowly, in gorgeous majesty, retires,
Flooding the founts and forests, fields and rills,
With the reflection of his golden fires.
How beauteous all, how calm, how still!
Yon star that trembles on the hill,
Yon crescent moon that raises high
Her beamy horns upon the sky,
Seem bending down a loving glance
From the unclouded skies,
On the green Earth that far away
In solemn beauty lies;—
And, like sweet Friendship in affliction's hour,
Grow brighter still the more the shadows lower.
SWEET EVENING BELLS
Soft evening bells!—sweet evening bells!
O'er vale and plain your music swells,
And far away
The echoes play
O'er shaggy mount and forest grey;
And every rock its secret tells
To your soft chime, sweet evening bells!
Soft evening bells!—sweet evening bells!
Now twilight drapes the woodland dells,
And shadows lie
On the closed eye
Of flowers that dream beneath the sky;
Yet fainter, sweeter, tenderer swells
Your dying chime, sweet evening bells!
O evening bells!—sweet evening bells!
With every note that sinks and swells,
Sadly and slow
The warm tears flow
In pensive pleasure more than woe,
As Mem'ry wakes her witching spells,
'Neath your soft chime, sweet evening bells!