Classic Poem

AN ODE.

Yes, tho' in gloom and sadness I may rise,
One blessed strain can soothe my troubled soul,
No sooner wakened than with streaming eyes,
Upward I look, and there I seek my goal.
Soaring in spirit o'er the things of earth,
The spark imprisoned bursts its bonds of clay;
I feel delight above all human mirth,
And wrapt in love, I live but then to pray;

To thee, dear Father! — mighty and supreme!
Immense! eternalt infinite! and blest!
Oh, how the grandeur of the theme doth seem
T enlarge my thoughts, and to inflame my breast.
Hail, blessed faith! thou only hope and trust,
Solace most sweet, and stay of hope most sure;
Thou sole support and shield of the opprest,
The weak, the wronged, the wretched, and the poor.

In thee, all trouble is absorbed and lost;
In ev'ry breath of thine there's vital air;
Whose mild and genial influence, the just
Rejoice to find, the wretched e'en may share.
For thee, when darkness brooded o'er the land,
A remnant, faithful to the law they feared.
Still wept and sighed — 'till mercy's hour at hand,
The mighty standard of the cross was reared.

Then in the depths of fear, as by a spell,
The voice of hope was heard, the tidings glad,
Of truth eternal, far and wide were spread,
And demons trembled as their idols felt;
But soon the foe of truth and justice came,
Far worse there's none than tyranny can prove,
That fitting agent of a spirit's aim,
Indocile ever to the God of love.

But vain was all that monster's rage renewed,
Thousands of martyrs fell beneath its sway;
Still in that cradle purpled with their blood,
The infant faith waxed stronger every day.
Now the triumphant gospel is our guide,
Our sure conductor to eternal light:
The future vast; the heavenly portals hide
Their joys no longer from our spirit's sight.

'Tis thou, O God, by faith who dost reveal
Mysterious wonders to our senses weak:
When thou dost speak to hearts that deeply feel,
And humbly hear when thou dost deign to speak
Oh, when the mantle of thy peace descends,
How the soul then exults in her attire!
The garb of grace to ev'ry thought extends,
And wraps reflection in seraphic fire.

In thee, I find all purity and peace,
All truth and goodness, wisdom far above
All worldly wisdom, might beyond increase,
And yet surpassing these, unbounded love.
Oh, that its light were shed on those whose deeds
Belie the doctrines of the church they claim;
Whose impious tongues profane their father's creeds,
And sanction wrong, e'en in religion's name.

Oh, God of mercy, throned in glory high,
O'er earth and all its miseries, look down!
Behold the wretched, hear the captives' cry,
And call thy exiled children round thy throne!
There would I fain in contemplation gaze,
On thy eternal beauty, and would make
Of love one lasting canticle of praise,
And ev'ry theme but that, henceforth forsake.