On, Spirit! beautiful thou art,
In every varying mood!
Thy rainbow glory fills the heart,
In crowds-in solitude.
Thy kingdom is creation vast,
All simple-all sublime:
And present things and things long past
Thou hold'st, and future time!
The soul of man is thine! thou liv'st
In every joy and woe :
And light and shade alternate giv'st
To every thought we know!
On, Spirit! monarch of the earth!
Whose power o'er all doth burn,
From God thou cam'st at this world's birth,
And wilt to God return!
We know that Nature's self must die—
Wood, mount, and lake, and river;
The sun and moon forsake the sky;
But thou shalt perish never.
HE is the freeman whom the truth makes free,
And all are slaves beside. There's not a chain
That hellish foes, confederate for his harm,
Can wind around him, but he casts it off
With as much ease as Samson his green withes.
He looks abroad into the varied field
Of nature, and, though poor perhaps, compared
With those whose mansions glitter in his sight,
Calls the delightful scenery all his own.
His are the mountains, and the valleys his,
And all the resplendent rivers. His to enjoy
With a propriety that none can feel,
But who, with filial confidence inspired,
Can lift to heaven an unpresumptuous eye,
And smiling say-" My Father made them all!”
Are they not his by a peculiar right,
And by an emphasis of interest his,
Whose eye they fill with tears of holy joy,
Whose heart with praise, and whose exalted mind
With worthy thoughts of that unwearied love
That plann'd, and built, and still upholds a world
So clothed with beauty for rebellious man?
Yes-ye may fill your garners, ye that reap
The loaded soil, and ye may waste much good
In senseless riot; but ye will not find,
In feast or in the chase, in song or dance,
A liberty like his who, unimpeach'd
Of usurpation, and to no man's wrong,
Appropriates nature as his Father's work,
And has a richer use of yours than you.
He is indeed a freeman. Free by birth
Of no mean city; plann'd or e'er the hills
Were built, the fountains open'd, or the sea
With all his roaring multitude of waves.
His freedom is the same in every state;
And no condition of this changeful life,
So manifold in cares, whose every day
Brings its own evil with it, makes it less:
For he has wings that neither sickness, pain,
Nor penury, can cripple or confine.
No nook so narrow but he spreads them there
With ease, and is at large. The oppressor holds
His body bound; but knows not what a range
His spirit takes, unconscious of a chain;
And that to bind him is a vain attempt,
Whom God delights in, and in whom He dwells.
WILLIAM COWPER, 1731-1800.
I LATELY talk'd with one who strove
To shew that all my way was dim,
That his alone-the road to heaven;
And thus it was I answer'd him
"Strike not away the staff I hold,
You cannot give me yours, dear friend ;
Up the steep hill our paths are set
In different ways, to one sure end.
"What though, with eagle glance upfix'd
On heights beyond our mortal ken,
You tread the broad sure stones of Faith
More firmly than do weaker men:
"To each according to his strength; But as we leave the plains below, Let us carve out a wider stair,
And broader pathway through the snow.
"And when upon the golden crest We stand at last together, freed
From mists that circle round the base,
And clouds that but obscure our creed;
"We shall perceive that though our steps
Have wander'd wide apart, dear friend,
No pathway can be wholly wrong
That tends unto one perfect end."
PRAISE the Lord, all earth and heaven,
Praise the Lord!
All to whom free voice is given,
Praise the Lord!
Hark the sound from heaven's wide portals,"Peace on earth, good-will to mortals!" Praise the Lord!
Praise the Lord, all living creatures,
Praise the Lord!
Man, with thy diviner features,
Praise the Lord!
Each pure soul that bends to beauty,
Each true heart made strong by duty,
Praise the Lord!
Mighty lights that rule the ether,
Praise the Lord!
Sun and moon sing songs together
To the Lord!
Praise Him, stars, your bright fires wheeling,
Praise Him, worlds, in wild dance reeling,
Praise the Lord!
Praise the Lord, deep-bosom'd ocean,
Praise the Lord!
Roaring waves, light, rippling motion,
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