And Brunskill's is a living name "More pleasure," I returned, "shall I "He knew how wholesome it would be "What feelings, and what impulses The solitary day; "That when his brethren were convened To meet for social prayer, He too, admonished by the call, In spirit might be there. "Or when a glad thanksgiving sound, Upon the winds of heaven, Was sent to speak a nation's joy, For some great blessing given,— "For victory by sea or land, And happy peace at length,— Peace by his country's valor won, And 'stablished by her strength. "When such exultant peals were borne Upon the mountain air, The sound should stir his blood, and give An English impulse there." Such thoughts were in the old man's mind, From Stanemore's side, on Borrodaile, And had I store of wealth, methinks, John Brunskill, I would freely give, CCXL TO THE WIND IN AN ÆOLIAN HARP E THEREAL race, inhabitants of air, Who hymn your God amid the secret grove, Ye unseen beings, to my harp repair, And raise majestic strains, or melt in love. Those tender notes, how kindly they upbraid! But hark! that strain was of a graver tone, In the drear waste, and wept his people's woes. Such was the song which Zion's children sung, When by Euphrates' stream they made their plaint; And to such sadly soleinn tones are strung Angelic harps, to soothe a dying saint. Methinks I hear the full celestial choir Thro' heaven's high dome their awful anthem raise; Let me, ye wand'ring spirits of the wind, Who, as wild fancy prompts you, touch the string, Smit with your theme, be in your chorus joined, For till you cease my muse forgets to sing. J. Thomson CCXLI GOD IN NATURE AND GRACE OD is love; the heavens tell it Go Through their glorious orbs of light, In that glad and golden language Speaking to us day and night, God is love, and God is light. And the teeming earth rejoices God is might, and God is love. Through these anthems of creation, God is love, and God is life. Up to Him let each affection Duly rise, and round Him move; Our whole lives one resurrection Our glad story, God is life, and God is love. Anon. All things wise and wonderful, Each little flower that opens, The rich man in his castle, The purple-headed mountain, The cold wind in the winter, The tall trees in the greenwood, The meadows where we play, The rushes by the water We gather every day; |