Dost thou revel in the rosy morning,
When all nature hails the Lord of light,
And his smile, the mountain-tops adorning,
Robes yon fragrant fields in radiance bright?
Other hands may grasp the field and forest,
Proud proprietors in pomp may shine;
But with fervent love if thou adorest,
Thou art wealthier,--all the world is thine.
Yet if through earth's wide domains thou rovest,
Sighing that they are not thine alone.
Not those fair fields, but thyself thou lovest,
And their beauty and thy wealth are gone.
Nature wears the color of the spirit;
Sweetly to her worshipper she sings;
All the glow, the grace she doth inherit,
Round her trusting child she fondly flings.
HARRIET WINSLOW SEWALL.
* * * * *
PRAYER AND ANSWER.
O God, I cannot walk the Way,--
The thorns, the thirst, the darkness,
And bleeding feet and aching heart!
I hear the songs and revels of the throng,--
They sneer upon my downcast face with scorn,--
Yet, O my God, I _must_ and shall walk with Thee!
O God, I cannot take the Truth!
Far easier honeyed hopes and falsehoods fair,
But Truth,--the Truth is stern and strong and awful.
It ploughs my soul with ploughshares flaming hot--
Yet give me Truth. I must have Truth, O God!
O God, I cannot live the Life,--
The flinging all to death that life may come;
The surging of Thy Spirit in my heart
In fire and flame will all consume me,--
Yet, O my God, I cannot live without Thee!
And as I agonized in dust and shame
With tears and sighs in all the bitter prayer,
I felt, as 't were, an arm that stole around me,
And raised me to my feet.
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