Classic Poem

I.

A MIDST the winds that blustering, hollow howl,
The frosts, that creep cold on the budding spray;
The fires that glare, the clouds that deepening scowl,
In life's low vale with soul-depressing sway;
Say Muse, what lights the Poor Man on his way —
Gives him to drink at cool contentment's spring —
Sheds on his weary soul a cheering ray —
And bids him soar on Hope's angelic wing?
The Sabbath day divine, the Poor Man's Sabbath sing.

II.

Hail holy day! of heav'n the certain pledge,
And pleasing prelibation here below;
'Tis thine, the groans of nature to assuage,
And bind with balmy hand her wounds of woe
Rejoicing in the morning's ruddy glow,
The labouring ox, all wet with pearly dew,
The clover'd dale at will traverses slow,
While idly gleams upon the distant view,
Far o'er the fallow field, the glittering soil-worn plough.

III.

Yea, e'en the simple ass, the daily drudge
Of yonder wandering, houseless, homeless train,
The thistle champs along the common's edge,
And lightsome ease obliterates all his pain.
But chief, in freedom from the weary wain
Exulting, roams at large the bounding steed;
Light floats upon the breeze his flowing mane;
He snorts — he paws — he skims the flow'ry mead —
The Sabbath day to him a day of joy indeed.

IV.

His milky charge there too, the farmer feeds,
While yet his family lie reclin'd in sleep;
This, on the part of labour, mercy pleads —
Labour, that still an early hour must keep —
And he that would to meditation deep,
Or exercise devout, his mind apply,
Nor blooms of hope, nor fruits of faith will reap,
If drowsy slumbers hang upon his eye,
And nature unrefresh'd pour forth the languid sigh.

V.

And down the vale where yet unmelted lie
The morning clouds around his humble home,
With careless step, in musing transport high,
Behold the week-worn cottar slowly roam.
On every hand the fragrant flow'rets bloom,
A hymn of joy in every thicket rings —
Earth breathes a grateful off'ring of perfume;
While, blithe, the lark extends his dewy wings,
And soaring up to heaven, a heaven-taught sonnet sings.

VI.

All this he ponders o'er with silent joy —
With gratitude and love his heart o'erflows,
Yet grieved to think, that still with base alloy
Is mix'd the tribute which his soul bestows
In rev'rence deep, his head he humbly bows,
And lifts to heav'n a supplicating eye,
Great are his wants, but words their utterance lose,
Dumb on his tongue his mighty cravings lie,
And burden'd sore, his soul pours forth a broken sigh.

VII.

And sighs are language, in th' all-gracious ear
Of Him who sits supreme on Mercy's throne,
Who kindly marks the penitential tear,
And faint the broken spirit's feeblest groan.
The meltings of the heart, will He disown?
The heart enraptured with his goodness? No —
A gracious answer to his sigh comes down,
Warm on his soul the streams of mercy flow,
And kindling in his breast, Heaven's holy ardours glow.

VIII.

Now, in his love, his friends and family share,
Before his God he spreads their every case,
Implores that he would make them all his care,
And fold them ever in his warm embrace;
But chiefly for his little infant race,
As yet unpractised in the world's vile ways,
That, by the influence of his special grace,
Conducted through life's dark and troubled maze,
Their last end may be peace, their whole lives speak his praise.

IX.

Nor end his fervours here — his native land,
Tho' owning not a foot-breadth of her soil,
He prays, that in the hollow of God's hand,
She still may rest, the lov'd, the lovely isle;
That in her valleys peace may ever smile,
And jubilant the song her mountains raise,
While woods, and streams, the chorus join the while,
With active man, to swell the notes of praise,
Till yonder orbs surcease t' admeasure nights and days.

X.

Untutor'd he, with philosophic ken,
Round the wide limits of the world to sweep,
To mark the manners strange of ruder men,
And, sage-like, tell what mystic rites they keep:
But he has heard, that o'er the pathless deep,
Beneath th' unbroken shade of forests brown,
The naked tribes, save that they wildly leap,
Like moody madness to the changing moon,
No blissful day of rest, no sacred service own.

XI.

That blind, at superstition's awful shrine,
Others laid prostrate, drench'd in human gore,
The direful fiends of hell, supposed divine,
With fear and awful reverence adore;
While lying flamens, boasting wizard lore,
In vain essay to read their future doom —
The rite abhorr'd, the harsh rhyme mutter'd o'er,
Cheer not the lonely dwelling of the tomb,
Which trembling doubt invests with horror's deepest gloom.

XII.

And with th' assembly great of the first-born,
Whose names are writ in heaven, in spirit join'd,
He prays that God, upon their case forlorn,
Would cast a healing look in mercy kind;
And call his gracious covenant to mind,
His promise from the times of old given forth,
That in the bonds of amity combined,
Through Him divine, the woman's wondrous birth,
Men jubilant shall join, from th' utmost ends of earth.

XIII.

But, from his lowly cot, a curling cloud
Of smoke ascending, homeward tempts his way,
To bless his family, and to serve his God,
In all the sacred duties of the day.
As fanciful, let none despise the lay —
'Tis peace, the peace of heaven, Devotion brings;
But doubly sweet her animating ray,
When, round the social hearth, Heaven's anthem rings,
And Hope exulting smiles, and Faith expands her wings.

XIV.

The soothing satisfaction who can tell,
Th' emotions dear, that warm the father's heart,
As, rising sweet, these strains of Zion swell
Around his little ring, devoid of art?
Perhaps, how God beneath oppression's smart
Beholds the poor, and listens to their sighs;
Or, how in wilds and deserts far apart,
To glad the thirsty soul that fainting lies,
He bids the flowerets spring, and bubbling streams arise.

XV.

Or what, when read, — while all attentive hear,
Is some mark'd portion of the sacred word;
Perhaps, in Sinai's thirsty desert drear,
Or Arnon's brooks, the doing of the Lord
Or how, when Persecution's cruel sword
Awoke, in fury, burning to devour,
By Cherith's brook conceal'd, the Prophet's board,
The ravens, mission'd by Almighty power,
With bread and flesh supplied, at morn and evening's hour.

XVI.

Or, when amidst the drought-consumed soil,
Their empty urns the fainting brooks deplore,
How the poor widow's little cruse of oil
For many a day supplied the unfailing store;
Or how the weeping Bard the briny shower
Pour'd for the children of his people slain,
While low on earth, with ashes cover'd o'er,
Zion for help stretch'd forth her hands in vain,
A hissing and a scorn to spiteful foes profane.

XVII.

Perhaps, when this green earth in morning prime
To run its destined course had scarce begun,
How righteous Abel fell before his time,
By meekness, faith, and charity undone —
And how the haughty, over-bearing one,
Though pitying earth the ruthless deed deplored,
Harden'd in pride and hate, in daring tone,
Braving the anger of th' Omniscient Lord,
From man was driven out a vagabond abhorr'd.

XVIII.

Or how the peaceful Enoch walk'd with God,
Amidst a world of wickedness and strife;
And how he was not found in earth's abode,
Caught up immediate to eternal life.
Or how, a comfort when his cares were rife,
And foam'd the curse in wrath's o'er-brimming horn,
To woe-worn Lamech by his faithful wife,
Noah, amidst the ungodly scoffs and scorn
Of a rejected world, a Preacher bold was born;

XIX.

Whom, when the day of slighted patience closed,
And wrath's dark night arose in starless gloom,
A miracle of mercy interposed
To save amidst the all-o'erwhelming doom;
And how, when on a lost world's closing tomb,
Its relic, and its orphan poor he stood,
His grateful offering's savoury perfume,
Through precious faith in the Messiah's blood,
Rose with acceptance meet before the throne of God:

XX.

Who on his weakness turn'd a pitying eye,
Resolved in such sort never to contend
Again with sinful flesh — but wet and dry,
In measure meet, with heat and cold to send;
And seasons, round the rolling earth to blend
Beauty and grandeur in successive rise;
And day and night, until th' appointed end
Of all within man's visive range that lies,
The garniture of earth, the glory of the skies.