Spirit of Earth! thy
hand is chill:
I've felt its icy clasp;
And, shuddering, I remember
still
That stony-hearted grasp.
Thine eye bids love and
joy depart:
Oh, turn its gaze from me!
It presses down my shrinking
heart;
I will not walk with thee!
"Wisdom is mine," I've heard
thee say:
"Beneath my searching eye
All mist and darkness melt
away,
Phantoms and fables fly.
Before me truth can stand
alone,
The naked, solid truth;
And man matured by worth
will own,
If I am shunned by youth.
"Firm is my tread, and sure
though slow;
My footsteps never slide;
And he that follows me shall
know
I am the surest guide."
Thy boast is vain; but were
it true
That thou couldst safely
steer
Life's rough and devious
pathway through,
Such guidance I should fear.
How could I bear to walk
for aye,
With eyes to earthward prone,
O'er trampled weeds and
miry clay,
And sand and flinty stone;
Never the glorious view
to greet
Of hill and dale, and sky;
To see that Nature's charms
are sweet,
Or feel that Heaven is nigh?
If in my heart arose a spring,
A gush of thought divine,
At once stagnation thou
wouldst bring
With that cold touch of
thine.
If, glancing up, I sought
to snatch
But one glimpse of the sky,
My baffled gaze would only
catch
Thy heartless, cold grey
eye.
If to the breezes wandering
near,
I listened eagerly,
And deemed an angel's tongue
to hear
That whispered hope to me,
That heavenly music would
be drowned
In thy harsh, droning voice;
Nor inward thought, nor
sight, nor sound,
Might my sad soul rejoice.
Dull is thine ear, unheard
by thee
The still, small voice of
Heaven;
Thine eyes are dim and cannot
see
The helps that God has given.
There is a bridge o'er every
flood
Which thou canst not perceive;
A path through every tangled
wood,
But thou wilt not believe.
Striving to make thy way
by force,
Toil-spent and bramble-torn,
Thou'lt fell the tree that
checks thy course,
And burst through brier
and thorn:
And, pausing by the river's
side,
Poor reasoner! thou wilt
deem,
By casting pebbles in its
tide,
To cross the swelling stream.
Right through the flinty
rock thou'lt try
Thy toilsome way to bore,
Regardless of the pathway
nigh
That would conduct thee
o'er
Not only art thou, then,
unkind,
And freezing cold to me,
But unbelieving, deaf, and
blind:
I will not walk with thee!
Spirit of Pride! thy wings
are strong,
Thine eyes like lightning
shine;
Ecstatic joys to thee belong,
And powers almost divine.
But 'tis a false, destructive
blaze
Within those eyes I see;
Turn hence their fascinating
gaze;
I will not follow thee.
"Coward and fool!" thou mayst
reply,
Walk on the common sod;
Go, trace with timid foot
and eye
The steps by others trod.
'Tis best the beaten path
to keep,
The ancient faith to hold;
To pasture with thy fellow-sheep,
And lie within the fold.
"Cling to the earth, poor
grovelling worm;
'Tis not for thee to soar
Against the fury of the
storm,
Amid the thunder's roar!
There's glory in that daring
strife
Unknown, undreamt by thee;
There's speechless rapture
in the life
Of those who follow me.
Yes, I have seen thy votaries
oft,
Upheld by thee their guide,
In strength and courage
mount aloft
The steepy mountain-side;
I've seen them stand against
the sky,
And gazing from below,
Beheld thy lightning in
their eye
Thy triumph on their brow.
Oh, I have felt what glory
then,
What transport must be theirs!
So far above their fellow-men,
Above their toils and cares;
Inhaling Nature's purest
breath,
Her riches round them spread,
The wide expanse of earth
beneath,
Heaven's glories overhead!
But I have seen them helpless,
dash'd
Down to a bloody grave,
And still thy ruthless eye
has flash'd,
Thy strong hand did not
save;
I've seen some o'er the
mountain's brow
Sustain'd awhile by thee,
O'er rocks of ice and hills
of snow
Bound fearless, wild, and
free.
Bold and exultant was their
mien,
While thou didst cheer them
on;
But evening fell,--and then,
I ween,
Their faithless guide was
gone.
Alas! how fared thy favourites
then,--
Lone, helpless, weary, cold?
Did ever wanderer find again
The path he left of old?
Where is their glory, where
the pride
That swelled their hearts
before?
Where now the courage that
defied
The mightiest tempest's
roar?
What shall they do when
night grows black,
When angry storms arise?
Who now will lead them to
the track
Thou taught'st them to despise?
Spirit of Pride, it needs
not this
To make me shun thy wiles,
Renounce thy triumph and
thy bliss,
Thy honours and thy smiles!
Bright as thou art, and
bold, and strong,
That fierce glance wins
not me,
And I abhor thy scoffing
tongue--
I will not follow thee!
Spirit of Faith! be thou
my guide,
O clasp my hand in thine,
And let me never quit thy
side;
Thy comforts are divine!
Earth calls thee blind,
misguided one,--
But who can shew like thee
Forgotten things that have
been done,
And things that are to be?
Secrets conceal'd from Nature's
ken,
Who like thee can declare?
Or who like thee to erring
men
God's holy will can bear?
Pride scorns thee for thy
lowly mien,--
But who like thee can rise
Above this toilsome, sordid
scene,
Beyond the holy skies?
Meek is thine eye and soft
thy voice,
But wondrous is thy might,
To make the wretched soul
rejoice,
To give the simple light!
And still to all that seek
thy way
This magic power is given,--
E'en while their footsteps
press the clay,
Their souls ascend to heaven.
Danger surrounds them,--pain
and woe
Their portion here must
be,
But only they that trust
thee know
What comfort dwells with
thee;
Strength to sustain their
drooping pow'rs,
And vigour to defend,--
Thou pole-star of my darkest
hours
Affliction's firmest friend!
Day does not always mark
our way,
Night's shadows oft appal,
But lead me, and I cannot
stray,--
Hold me, I shall not fall;
Sustain me, I shall never
faint,
How rough soe'er may be
My upward road,--nor moan,
nor plaint
Shall mar my trust in thee.
Narrow the path by which
we go,
And oft it turns aside
From pleasant meads where
roses blow,
And peaceful waters glide;
Where flowery turf lies
green and soft,
And gentle gales are sweet,
To where dark mountains
frown aloft,
Hard rocks distress the
feet,--
Deserts beyond lie bleak
and bare,
And keen winds round us
blow;
But if thy hand conducts
me there,
The way is right, I know.
I have no wish to turn away;
My spirit does not quail,--
How can it while I hear
thee say,
"Press forward and prevail!"
Even above the tempest's
swell
I hear thy voice of love,--
Of hope and peace, I hear
thee tell,
And that blest home above;
Through pain and death I
can rejoice.
If but thy strength be mine,--
Earth hath no music like
thy voice,
Life owns no joy like thine!
Spirit of Faith, I'll go
with thee!
Thou, if I hold thee fast,
Wilt guide, defend, and
strengthen me,
And bear me home at last;
By thy help all things I
can do,
In thy strength all things
bear,--
Teach me, for thou art just
and true,
Smile on me, thou art fair!