Ordained to guide the embodied spirit 840 home, From toilsome life to never-ending rest. Love kindles as I gaze. I feel desires That give assurance of their own success, And that, infused from Heaven, must thither tend." So reads he nature whom the lamp of truth Illuminates. Thy lamp, mysterious Word! Which whoso sees, no longer wanders lost, With intellects bemazed in endless doubt, But runs the road of wisdom. Thou hast built, With means that were not till by thee employed, 850 Worlds that had never been hadst Thou in strength Been less, or less benevolent than strong. A teaching voice; but 'tis the praise of thine That whom it teaches it makes prompt to learn, 859 And with the boon gives talents for its use. Till Thou art heard, imaginations vain Possess the heart, and fables false as hell, Yet deemed oracular, lure down to death The uninformed and heedless souls of men. We give to Chance, blind Chance, ourselves as blind, The glory of thy work, which yet appears Perfect and unimpeachable of blame, Challenging human scrutiny, and proved Then skilful most when most severely judged. But Chance is not; or is not where Thou reignest: 870 Thy Providence forbids that fickle power (If power she be that works but to con found) To mix the wild vagaries with thy laws. Yet thus we dote, refusing, while we can Instruction, and inventing to ourselves Gods such as guilt makes welcome; gods that sleep, Or disregard our follies, or that sit Amused spectators of this bustling stage. Thee we reject, unable to abide Thy purity, till pure as Thou art pure, 880 Made such by thee, we love thee for that cause For which we shunned and hated thee before. Then we are free: then liberty like day Breaks on the soul, and by a flash from heaven Fires all the faculties with glorious joy. A voice is heard that mortal ears hear not Till Thou hast touched them; 'tis the voice of song, A loud Hosanna sent from all thy works, 888 Her veil opaque, discloses with a smile Thou art the source and centre of all minds, Their only point of rest, Eternal Word! From thee departing, they are lost and Then over all, that he might be Equipped from top to toe, 70 His long red cloak, well brushed and neat, Now see him mounted once again But finding soon a smoother road So, "Fair and softly," John he cried, So stooping down, as needs he must 80 He grasped the mane with both his hands, His horse, who never in that sort "What news? what news? your tidings tell; Tell me you must and shall Say why bareheaded you are come, Now Gilpin had a pleasant wit, And loved a timely joke; And thus unto the calender "I came because your horse would come, And, if I well forebode, My hat and wig will soon be here, The calender, right glad to find Returned him not a single word, 270 280 Whence straight he came with hat and wig; A wig that flowed behind, A hat not much the worse for wear, Not one of them was mute; And now the turnpike gates again The toll-men thinking, as before, And so he did, and won it too, Now let us sing, Long live the king! And when he next doth ride abroad 330 340 350 Voice only fails, else how distinct they say, "Grieve not, my child, chase all thy fears away!" The meek intelligence of those dear eyes Thy morning bounties ere I left my home, All this, and more endearing still than all, Thy constant flow of love, that knew no fall, Ne'er roughened by those cataracts and brakes That humour interposed too often makes; Could Time, his flight reversed, restore the hours, When, playing with thy vesture's tissued flowers, The violet, the pink, and jessamine, I pricked them into paper with a pin (And thou wast happier than myself the while, Wouldst softly speak, and stroke my head and smile), Could those few pleasant days again ap |