BRIGHTER than the rising day,
When the sun of glory shines; Brighter than the diamond's ray, Sparkling in Golconda's mines; Beaming through the clouds of wo, Smiles in Mercy's diadem
On the guilty world below,
The Star that rose in Bethlehem.
When our eyes are dimm'd with tears, This can light them up again, Sweet as music to our ears, Faintly warbling o'er the plain. Never shines a ray so bright From the purest earthly gem; O! there is no soothing light Like the Star of Bethlehem.
Grief's dark clouds may o'er us roll, Every heart may sink in wo, Gloomy conscience rack the soul,
And sorrow's tears in torrents flow; Still, through all these clouds and storms, Shines this purest heavenly gem,
With a ray that kindly warms- The Star that rose in Bethlehem.
When we cross the roaring wave That rolls on life's remotest shore;
When we look into the grave,
And wander through this world no more; This, the lamp whose genial ray,
Like some brightly-glowing gem, Points to man his darkling way—
The Star that rose in Bethlehem.
Let the world be sunk in sorrow, Not an eye be charm'd or bless'd; We can see a fair to-morrow Smiling in the rosy west; This, her beacon, Hope displays; For, in Mercy's diadem,
Shines, with Faith's serenest rays, The Star that rose in Bethlehem.
When this gloomy life is o'er,
When we smile in bliss above, When, on that delightful shore,
We enjoy the heaven of love,O! what dazzling light shall shine Round salvation's purest gem! O! what rays of love divine
Gild the Star of Bethlehem!
FROM early childhood, even, as hath been said, From his sixth year, he had been sent abroad In summer to tend herds; such was his task Thenceforward till the latter day of youth. O then what soul was his, when, on the tops Of the high mountains, he beheld the sun
Rise up, and bathe the world in light! He looked- Ocean and earth, the solid frame of earth
And ocean's liquid mass, beneath him lay
In gladness and deep joy. The clouds were touch'd, And in their silent faces did he read
Unutterable love. Sound needed none,
Nor any voice of joy; his spirit drank The spectacle; sensation, soul, and form, All melted into him; they swallowed up His animal being; in them did he live, And by them did he live; they were his life. In such access of mind, in such high hour Of visitation from the living God, Thought was not; in enjoyment it expired; No thanks he breathed, he proffered no request; Rapt into still communion that transcends The imperfect offices of prayer and praise, His mind was a thanksgiving to the power That made him; it was blessedness and love! A Herdsman, on the lowly mountain tops Such intercourse was his; and in this sort Was his existence oftentimes possessed.
Oh, then, how beautiful, how bright appear'd The written promise! He had early learn'd To reverence the Volume which displays The mystery, the life that cannot die : But in the mountains did he feel his faith; There did he see the writing-all things there Breathed immortality, revolving life, And greatness still revolving;-infinite! There littleness was not ;-the least of things Seemed infinite; and there his spirit shaped Her prospects; nor did he believe,―he saw. What wonder if his being thus became Sublime and comprehensive! low desires,
Low thoughts had there no place; yet was his heart Lowly; for he was meek in gratitude,
Oft as he called those ecstacies of mind,
And whence they flowed; and from them he acquired Wisdom which works through patience; thence he
In many a calmer hour of sober thought,
To look on nature with an humbler heart, Self-question'd where he did not understand, And with a reverential eye of love.
FAREWELL, thou vase of splendor, I need thy light no more ; No brilliance dost thou render The world to which I soar.
Nor sun nor moonbeam brightens Those regions with a ray, But God himself enlightens Their one eternal day.
Farewell, sweet nature! waving With fruits and flowerets fair; Of these but little craving
Of what thou well canst spare,—
Only an earthly pillow,
To bear my death-cold head; And the turf and drooping willow, To deck my lowly bed.
The world to which I'm going Has fairer fruit than thine,
Life's rivers ever flowing,
And skies that ever shine.
Farewell, each dearest union,
That bless'd my earthly hours; We yet shall hold communion In amaranthine bowers.
The love that seems forsaken,
When friends in death depart,
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