How calm and glorious is the hour of night
In these uncultured solitary wilds,
When o'er each lowly vale and lofty height
The full-orb'd moon in cloudless lustre smiles.
Those lofty mountains with their forest green
And craggy summits tow'ring to the sky—
How proudly do they rise o'er all the scene,
And lift the thoughts from earth to muse on high!
And yon pure rivulet that pours along,
Playing and sparkling in the moon-beams clear—
How sweet the music of its vesper song
In tuneful cadence falls upon the ear!
And hark! the roar of these far spreading woods,
Sinking or rising as the winds sweep by!
Myriads of voices fill these solitudes,
And send the notes of melody on high.
While all his works with one accord rejoice,
And pour forth praises to the Great Supreme,
Shall man unmoved withhold his nobler voice
Nor glow with raptures on the glorious theme?
His bounteous goodness all creation fills,—
Even these wild woods where solitude prevails;
He sends his dews upon the untrodden hills,
And flowers he scatters o'er the lonely vales.
Scenes unfrequented by the feet of men
Display his goodness, and proclaim his might:
He feeds the wild deer in the secret glen,
And the young eagles on the craggy height.
His mighty arm the vivid lightning speeds,
And bursts the clouds that o'er the hills impend:
The mountain stream through distant lands he leads
And Joy and Melody his steps attend.
To trace his wonders through each varying clime,
And all his mercies to the sons of men,
Fills the rapt soul with ecstacy sublime
Beyond the effort of the poet's pen.
O Solitude! how blissful are the hours
Among thy shades in heavenly musing past,
When Nature leads us through her secret bowers,
And Contemplation spreads the rich repast.
Among the haunts of men the thoughtful mind
That fain would rise above the things of earth,
Finds its bold flights on every hand confined,
By care distracted, and seduced by mirth.
But in the deep and solemn hour of night
The soul luxuriates in a scene like this:
From cliff to cliff she wings her daring flight
O'er foaming cataract or dark abyss.
Or else, uplifted o'er the things of time,
By heavenly Faith from all her bonds set free,
Among the fields of ether soars sublime,
And holds communion with the Deity.
Oh! how transporting is the glorious thought
That He whose power controls yon worlds above,
Is ever nigh—and ever found when sought
To save and bless us with a father's love.
Even his chastisements are with mercy fraught,
And seal instruction on the attentive mind.
Driven by disease these distant shades I sought,
And all the fruitless cares of life resigned:
'Twas there He met me, and in mercy healed
The raging fevers that my strength deprest,
His love paternal to my soul revealed,
And swell'd the tide of rapture in my breast.
Oh! then, my heart, may'st thou continual turn
To Him whose power alone can guide thy ways:
May love divine upon thine altar burn,
And every thought and feeling speak His praise. |