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AWAKE, sweet harp of Judah, wake,
Retune thy strings for Jesu's sake;
We sing the Saviour of our race,
The Lamb, our shield, and hiding-place.
When God's right arm is bared for war,
The thunders clothe his cloudy car.
Where, where, oh where, shall man retire,
To 'scape the horrors of his ire?
"Tis He, the Lamb, to him we fly,
While the dread tempest passes by;
God sees his well-beloved's face,
And spares us in his hiding-place.
Thus, while we dwell in this low scene,
The Lamb is our unfailing screen;
To him, though guilty, still we run,
And God still spares us for his Son.
While yet we sojourn here below,
Pollutions still our hearts o'erflow;
Fallen, abject, mean, a sentenced race,
We deeply need a hiding-place.
Yet courage-days and years will glide,
And we shall lay these clods aside;
Shall be baptized in Jordan's flood,
And wash'd in Jesu's cleansing blood.
Then pure, immortal, sinless, freed,
We through the Lamb shall be decreed;
Shall meet the Father face to face,
And need no more a hiding-place.
BLEST are they,
Who in this fleshly world, the elect of Heaven,
Their strong eye darting thro' the deeds of men,
Adore with stedfast unpresuming gaze
Him, Nature's Essence, Mind, and Energy!
And gazing, trembling, patiently ascend,
Treading beneath their feet all visible things,
As steps, that upward to their Father's throne
Lead gradual-else nor glorified nor lov'd.
They nor contempt embosom nor revenge :
For they dare know of what may seem deform,
The Supreme Fair, sole Operant ; in whose sight
All things are pure, his strong controlling love
Alike from all educing perfect good.
Their's too celestial courage, inly arm'd, Dwarfing Earth's giant brood, what time they muse On their great Father, great beyond compare! And marching onwards view high o'er their heads His waving banners of omnipotence.
They cannot dread created might, who love God, the Creator!-fair and lofty thought! It lifts and swells my heart! And as I muse, Behold! a vision gathers in my soul, Voices and shadowy shapes, in human guise. I seem to see the phantom, near, pass by, Hotly-pursued, and pale! From rock to rock He bounds with bleeding feet, and thro' the swamp, The quicksand, and the groaning wilderness, Struggles with feebler and yet feebler flight. But lo! an altar in the wilderness, And eagerly yet feebly, lo! he grasps The altar of the living God! and there,
With wan reverted face, the trembling wretch
All wildly list'ning to his hunter-fiends,
Stands, till the last faint echo of their yell
Dies in the distance. Soon refresh'd from Heaven
He calms the throb and tempest of his heart.
His countenance settles: a soft solemn bliss
Swims in his eyes: his swimming eyes uprais'd,
And Faith's whole armour girds his limbs! And thus,
Transfigur'd, with a meek and dreadless awe,
A solemn hush of spirit, he beholds
All things of terrible seeming: yea, unmov'd
Views e'en the immitigable ministers,
That shower down vengeance on these latter days.
For even these on wings of healing come,
Yea, kindling with intenser Deity;
From the celestial mercy-seat they speed,
And at the renovating wells of love,
Have fill'd their vials with salutary wrath;
To sickly Nature more medicinal,
Than what sweet balm the weeping good man pours
Into the lone, despoiled, trav'ller's wounds!
Thus, from th' Elect, regenerate thro' faith, Pass the dark passions, and what thirsty cares
the spirit, and the dim regards
Self-centre. Lo, they vanish! or acquire
New names, new features,-by supernal grace
Enrob'd with light, and naturalized in Heaven.
As when a Shepherd on a vernal morn,
Thro' some thick fog creeps tim❜rous with slow foot,
Darkling with earnest eyes he traces out
Th' immediate road, all else of fairest kind
Hid or deform'd. But lo! the burning sun!
Touch'd by th' enchantment of that sudden beam,
Straight the black vapour melteth, and in globes
Of dewy glitter gems each plant and tree;
On every leaf, on every blade it hangs;
Dance glad the new-born intermingling rays,
And wide around the landscape streams with glory!
There is one Mind, one omnipresent Mind,
Omnific. His most holy name is Love.
Truth of subliming import! with the which
Who feeds and saturates his constant soul,
He from his small particular orbit flies,
With blest outstarting! From himself he flies,
Stands in the sun, and with no partial gaze
Views all creation; and he loves it all,
And blesses it, and calls it very good!
This is indeed to dwell with the Most High!
The cherubs, and the trembling seraphim
Can press no nearer to th' Almighty's throne.
But that we roam unconscious, or with hearts
Unfeeling of our Universal Sire,
Haply for this, some younger angel now
Looks down on human nature: and, behold!
A sea of blood bestrew'd with wrecks, where mad
Embattling interests on each other rush
With unhelm'd rage!
"Tis the sublime of man, Our noontide majesty, to know ourselves
Parts and proportions of one wond'rous whole!
This fraternizes man, this constitutes
Our charities and bearings. But 'tis God
Diffus'd through all, that doth make all one whole;
This the worst superstition, him except
Aught to desire, Supreme reality!
The plenitude and permanence of bliss!
O fiends of superstition! not that oft
The erring priest hath stain'd with brother's blood
Your grisly idols, not for this may wrath
Thunder against you from the Holy One!
But o'er some plain that steameth to the sun,
Peopled with death; or, where more hideous trade,
Loud laughing, packs his bales of human anguish ;
I will raise up a mourning, O ye fiends!
And curse your spells, that film the eye of faith;
Hiding the present God, whose presence lost,
The moral world's cohesion, we become
An anarchy of spirits, toy-bewitch'd,
Made blind by lusts, disherited of soul,
No common centre man, no common sire
Knoweth! A sordid solitary thing,
'Mid countless brethren, with a lonely heart,
Thro' courts and cities the smooth savage roams,
Feeling himself, his own low self the whole;
When he by sacred sympathy might make
The whole one self! self that no alien knows!
Self, far diffus'd as Fancy's wing can travel!
Self, spreading still oblivious of its own,
Yet all of all possessing! this is faith!
This the Messiah's destin'd victory!
But first offences needs must come! Even now
(Black Hell laughs horrible-to hear the scoff!)
Thee to defend, meek Galilæan! Thee
And thy mild laws of love unutterable,
Mistrust and Enmity have burst the bands