Abbildungen der Seite
PDF
EPUB

ON A SURVEY OF THE HEAVENS, BEFORE DAY-BRAK. — H. K. White.

[An example of "Expression " and " Variation" in the successive forms of awe, adoration, reverence, self-humiliation, submission, and resignation.

Ye many twinkling stars who yet do hold
Your brilliant places in the sable vault

Of night's dominion! — Planets, and central orbs
Of other systems; - big as the burning sun
Which lights this nether globe, - yet to our eye
Small as the glow-worm's lamp!- To you I raise
My lowly orisons, while, all bewildered,
My vision strays o'er your ethereal hosts;
Too vast, too boundless for our narrow mind,
Warped with low prejudice, to unfold,

-

And sagely comprehend, thence higher soaring,-
Through ye I raise my solemn thoughts to Him,
The mighty Founder of this wondrous maze,
The great Creator! Him! who now sublime,
Wrapt in the solitary amplitude

Of boundless space, above the rolling sphere
Sits on his silent throne, and meditates.

The angelic hosts, in their inferior heaven,
Hymn to the golden harps his praise sublime,
Repeating loud, "The Lord our God is great!”
In varied harmonies. The glorious sounds
Roll o'er the air serene. - The Eolian spheres,
Harping along their viewless boundaries,
Catch the full note, and cry, "The Lord is great!”
Responding to the seraphim.— O'er all,

From orb to orb, to the remotest verge
Of the created world, the sound is borne,
Till the whole universe is full of HIM.

Oh! 't is this heavenly harmony which now
In fancy strikes upon my listening ear,
And thrills my inmost soul. It bids me smile
On the vain world, and all its bustling cares,
And gives a shadowy glimpse of future bliss.

Oh! what is man, when at ambition's height,
What even are kings, when balanced in the scale
Of these stupendous worlds? Almighty God!
Thou, the dread author of these wondrous works!
Say, canst thou cast on me, poor passing worm,
One look of kind benevolence?-Thou canst;
For thou art full of universal love,

And in thy boundless goodness wilt impart
Thy beams as well to me as to the proud,

The pageant insects of a glittering hour.

Oh! when reflecting on these truths sublime,
How insignificant do all the joys,

The gauds and honors of the world appear!

How vain ambition!- Why has my wakeful lamp
Outwatched the slow-paced night? - Why on the page
The schoolman's labored page, have I employed
The hours devoted by the world to rest,
And needful to recruit exhausted nature?
Say; can the voice of narrow Fame repay
The loss of health? or can the hope of glory
Send a new throb unto my languid heart,
Cool, even now, my feverish aching brow,
Relume the fires of this deep sunken eye,
Or paint new colors on this pallid cheek?

Say,
foolish one
-can that unbodied fame,
For which thou barterest health and happiness,

Say, can it soothe the slumbers of the grave?
Give a new zest to bliss, or chase the

pangs

Of everlasting punishment condign?
Alas! how vain are mortal man's desires!
How fruitless his pursuits! - Eternal God!
Guide thou my footsteps in the way of truth;
And oh! assist me so to live on earth,

That I may die in peace, and claim a place

-

In thy high dwelling. All but this is folly,-
The vain illusions of deceitful life.

[blocks in formation]

[This piece is intended to exemplify the "Expression" and "Variation" which characterize reflective sentiment.]

Let me move slowly through the street,

Filled with its ever-shifting train,

Amid the sound of steps that beat

The murmuring walk, like autumn rain.

How fast the flitting figures come!

The mild, the fierce, the stony face;
Some bright with thoughtless smiles, and some
Where secret tears have left their trace.

They pass-to toil, to strife, to rest,
To halls in which the feast is spread,
To chambers where the funeral guest
In silence sits beside the dead.

And some to happy homes repair,

Where children, pressing cheek to cheek,

With mute caresses shall declare

The tenderness they cannot speak.

And some, who walk in calmness here,
Shall shudder as they reach the door
Where one who made their dwelling dear,
Its flower, its light, is seen no more.

Youth, with pale cheek and slender frame,
And dreams of greatness in thine eye!
Go'st thou to build an early name,-
Or early in the task to die?

Keen son of trade, with eager brow!
Who is now fluttering in thy snare?
Thy golden fortunes, tower they now,
Or melt the glittering spires in air?
Who of this crowd to-night shall tread
The dance till daylight gleam again?
Who sorrow o'er the untimely dead?
Who writhe in throes of pain?

Some, famine-struck, shall think how long
The cold dark hours, how slow the light!
And some, who flaunt amid the throng,
Shall hide in dens of shame to night.

Each, where his task or pleasures call,
They pass
and heed each other not.
There is who heeds, who holds them all,
In His large love and boundless thought.

These struggling tides of life that seem
In wayward, aimless course, to tend,
Are eddies of the mighty Stream

That rolls to its predestined End.

ROBERT HALL.— Anon.

[Passages such as the following exemplify the varied "Expression resulting from the successive effects of narration, description, and didactic sentiment.]

The services preliminary to the sermon, had been nearly gone through, and the last verse of a hymn was being sung, when Mr. Hall ascended slowly, and, I thought, wearily, the pulpit stairs. No one, looking at his somewhat unwieldy and rather ungraceful figure, would have been prepossessed in his favor; and, as he sat down in the pulpit, and looked languidly round on the congregation, I experienced, I know not why, a feeling of disappointment.

He rose, and read his text: " The Father of Lights." At first, his voice was scarcely audible, and there appeared some slight hesitation; but this soon wore off; and as he warmed with his subject, he poured forth such a continuous stream of eloquence, that it seemed as if it flowed from some inexhaustible source. His tones were, although low, beautifully modulated; but, owing to some affection in his throat, his speech was, at short intervals, interrupted by a short spasmodic cough.

During the delivery of his brilliant paragraphs, the most

breathless silence reigned throughout the vast assemblage; but his momentary cessation was the signal for general relaxation from an attention so intense that it became almost painful. It was curious to observe how every neck was stretched out, so that not a word which fell from those eloquent lips should be lost; and the suspended breathings of those around me, evinced how intently all were hanging on his charmed words.

Mr. Hall's fluency was wonderful, and his command of language unsurpassed. I will not mar the beauty of his discourse, by attempting to describe it; but, as I followed him, whilst, by his vivid imagination, he conveyed his hearers through the starry skies, and reasoned, from those lights of the universe, what the Father of Lights must be, I became lost in wonder and admiration.

But the crowning glory of his sermon was his allusion to the heavenly world, whose beatific glories he expatiated on, with almost the eloquence of an angel. He seemed like one inspired; and, as he guided us by living streams, and led us over the celestial fields, he seemed carried away by his subject, and his face beamed as if it reflected Heaven's own light. And this was the man who, but an hour before, had lain down on the ground, in the excess of his agony; and who, from his earliest years, had constantly endured the most excruciating torture which man can be called upon to bear! I have myself heard him say that he had never known one waking hour free from extreme pain.

Mr. Hall used very little action in the pulpit. His favorite -or, rather his usual — attitude, was, to stand, and lean his chest against the cushion; his left arm lying on the Bible, and his right hand slightly raised, with the palm towards the audience. His tones were almost uniformly low; and he rarely raised them. Ideas seemed so to accumulate, whilst he was preaching, that they flowed forth without effort on his part. Never did he hesitate; and, so pure were his oral compositions, that

« ZurückWeiter »