The Nativity

'Tis folly all--let me no more be told

Of Parian porticos, and roofs of gold;

Delightful views of nature, dressed by art,

Enchant no longer this indifferent heart;

The Lord of all things, in his humble birth,

Makes mean the proud magnificence of earth;

The straw, the manger, and the mouldering wall,

Eclipse its lustre; and I scorn it all.

Canals, and fountains, and delicious vales,

Green slopes and plains, whose plenty never fails;

Deep-rooted groves, whose heads sublimely rise,

Earth-born, and yet ambitious of the skies;

The abundant foliage of whose gloomy shades,

Vainly the sun in all its power invades;

Where warbled airs of sprightly birds resound,

Whose verdure lives while Winter scowls around;

Rocks, lofty mountains, caverns dark and deep,

And torrents raving down the rugged steep;

Smooth downs, whose fragrant herbs the spirits cheer;

Meads crowned with flowers; streams musical and clear,

Whose silver waters, and whose murmurs, join

Their artless charms, to make the scene divine;

The fruitful vineyard, and the furrowed plain,

That seems a rolling sea of golden grain:

All, all have lost the charms they once possessed;

An infant God reigns sovereign in my breast;

From Bethlehem's bosom I no more will rove;

There dwells the Saviour, and there rests my love.

Ye mightier rivers, that, with sounding force,

Urge down the valleys your impetuous course!

Winds, clouds, and lightnings! and, ye waves, whose heads,

Curled into monstrous forms, the seaman dreads!

Horrid abyss, where all experience fails,

Spread with the wreck of planks and shattered sails;

On whose broad back grim Death triumphant rides,

While havoc floats on all thy swelling tides,

Thy shores a scene of ruin strewed around

With vessels bulged, and bodies of the drowned!

Ye fish, that sport beneath the boundless waves,

And rest, secure from man, in rocky caves;

Swift-darting sharks, and whales of hideous size,

Whom all the aquatic world with terror eyes!

Had I but faith immoveable and true,

I might defy the fiercest storm, like you:

The world, a more disturbed and boisterous sea,

When Jesus shows a smile, affrights not me;

He hides me, and in vain the billows roar,

Break harmless at my feet, and leave the shore.

Thou azure vault where, through the gloom of night,

Thick sown, we see such countless worlds of light!

Thou moon, whose car, encompassing the skies,

Restores lost nature to our wondering eyes;

Again retiring, when the brighter sun

Begins the course he seems in haste to run!

Behold him where he shines! His rapid rays,

Themselves unmeasured, measure all our days;

Nothing impedes the race he would pursue,

Nothing escapes his penetrating view,

A thousand lands confess his quickening heat,

And all he cheers are fruitful, fair, and sweet.

Far from enjoying what these scenes disclose,

I feel the thorn, alas! but miss the rose:

Too well I know this aching heart requires

More solid gold to fill its vast desires;

In vain they represent his matchless might,

Who called them out of deep primeval night;

Their form and beauty but augment my woe,

I seek the Giver of those charms they show:

Nor, Him beside, throughout the world he made,

Lives there in whom I trust for cure or aid.

Infinite God, thou great unrivalled One!

Whose glory makes a blot of yonder sun;

Compared with thine, how dim his beauty seems,

How quenched the radiance of his golden beams!

Thou art my bliss, the light by which I move;

In thee alone dwells all that I can love.

All darkness flies when thou art pleased to appear,

A sudden spring renews the fading year;

Where'er I turn I see thy power and grace

The watchful guardians of our heedless race;

Thy various creatures in one strain agree,

All, in all times and places, speak of thee;

E'en I, with trembling heart and stammering tongue,

Attempt thy praise, and join the general song.

Almighty Former of this wondrous plan,

Faintly reflected in thine image, man--

Holy and just--the greatness of whose name

Fills and supports this universal frame,

Diffused throughout the infinitude of space,

Who art thyself thine own vast dwelling-place;

Soul of our soul, whom yet no sense of ours

Discerns, eluding our most active powers;

Encircling shades attend thine awful throne,

That veil thy face, and keep thee still unknown;

Unknown, though dwelling in our inmost part,

Lord of the thoughts, and Sovereign of the heart!

Repeat the charming truth that never tires,

No God is like the God my soul desires;

He at whose voice heaven trembles, even He,

Great as he is, knows how to stoop to me--

Lo! there he lies--that smiling infant said,

"Heaven, earth, and sea, exist!"--and they obeyed.

E'en he, whose being swells beyond the skies,

Is born of woman, lives, and mourns, and dies;

Eternal and immortal, seems to cast

That glory from his brows, and breathes his last.

Trivial and vain the works that man has wrought,

How do they shrink and vanish at the thought!

Sweet solitude, and scene of my repose!

This rustic sight assuages all my woes--

That crib contains the Lord, whom I adore;

And earth's a shade that I pursue no more.

He is my firm support, my rock, my tower,

I dwell secure beneath his sheltering power,

And hold this mean retreat for ever dear,

For all I love, my soul's delight is here.

I see the Almighty swathed in infant bands,

Tied helpless down the thunder-bearer's hands!

And, in this shed, that mystery discern,

Which faith and love, and they alone, can learn.

Ye tempests, spare the slumbers of your Lord!

Ye zephyrs, all your whispered sweets afford!

Confess the God, that guides the rolling year;

Heaven, do him homage; and thou, earth, revere!

Ye shepherds, monarchs, sages, hither bring

Your hearts an offering, and adore your King!

Pure be those hearts, and rich in faith and love;

Join, in his praise, the harmonious world above;

To Bethlehem haste, rejoice in his repose,

And praise him there for all that he bestows!

Man, busy man, alas! can ill afford

To obey the summons, and attend the Lord;

Perverted reason revels and runs wild,

By glittering shows of pomp and wealth beguiled;

And, blind to genuine excellence and grace,

Finds not her author in so mean a place.

Ye unbelieving! learn a wiser part,

Distrust your erring sense, and search your heart;

There soon ye shall perceive a kindling flame

Glow for that infant God, from whom it came;

Resist not, quench not, that divine desire,

Melt all your adamant in heavenly fire!

Not so will I requite thee, gentle love!

Yielding and soft this heart shall ever prove;

And every heart beneath thy power should fall,

Glad to submit, could mine contain them all.

But I am poor, oblation I have none,

None for a Saviour, but himself alone:

Whate'er I render thee, from thee it came:

And, if I give my body to the flame,

My patience, love, and energy divine

Of heart, and soul, and spirit, all are thine.

Ah, vain attempt to expunge the mighty score!

The more I pay, I owe thee still the more.

Upon my meanness, poverty, and guilt,

The trophy of thy glory shall be built;

My self-disdain shall be the unshaken base,

And my deformity its fairest grace;

For destitute of good, and rich in ill,

Must be my state and my description still.

And do I grieve at such an humbling lot?

Nay, but I cherish and enjoy the thought--

Vain pageantry and pomp of earth, adieu!

I have no wish, no memory for you;

The more I feel my misery, I adore

The sacred inmate of my soul the more;

Rich in his love, I feel my noblest pride

Spring from the sense of having nought beside.

In thee I find wealth, comfort, virtue, might;

My wanderings prove thy wisdom infinite;

All that I have I give thee; and then see

All contrarieties unite in thee;

For thou hast joined them, taking up our woe,

And pouring out thy bliss on worms below,

By filling with thy grace and love divine

A gulf of evil in this heart of mine.

This is, indeed, to bid the valleys rise,

And the hills sink--'tis matching earth and skies;

I feel my weakness, thank thee and deplore

An aching heart, that throbs to thank thee more;

The more I love thee, I the more reprove

A soul so lifeless, and so slow to love;

Till, on a deluge of thy mercy tossed,

I plunge into that sea, and there am lost.

God Neither Known nor Loved by the World

Ye linnets, let us try, beneath this grove,

Which shall be loudest in our Maker's praise!

In quest of some forlorn retreat I rove,

For all the world is blind, and wanders from his ways.

That God alone should prop the sinking soul,

Fills them with rage against his empire now:

I traverse earth in vain from pole to pole,

To seek one simple heart, set free from all below.

They speak of love, yet little feel its sway,

While in their bosom many an idol lurks;

Their base desires, well satisfied, obey,

Leave the Creator's hand, and lean upon his works.

'Tis therefore I can dwell with man no more;

Your fellowship, ye warblers! suits me best:

Pure love has lost its price, though prized of yore,

Profaned by modern tongues, and slighted as a jest.

My God, who formed you for his praise alone,

Beholds his purpose well fulfilled in you;

Come, let us join the choir before his throne,

Partaking in his praise with spirits just and true.

Yes, I will always love; and, as I ought,

Tune to the praise of love my ceaseless voice;

Preferring love too vast for human thought,

In spite of erring men, who cavil at my choice.

Why have I not a thousand thousand hearts,

Lord of my soul! that they might all be thine?

If thou approve--the zeal thy smile imparts,

How should it ever fail! can such a fire decline?

Love, pure and holy, is a deathless fire;

Its object heavenly, it must ever blaze:

Eternal love a God must needs inspire,

When once he wins the heart, and fits it for his praise.

Self-love dismissed--'tis then we live indeed--

In her embrace, death, only death is found:

Come, then, one noble effort, and succeed,

Cast off the chain of self with which thy soul is bound.

Oh! I could cry, that all the world might hear,

Ye self-tormentors, love your God alone;

Let his unequalled excellence be dear,

Dear to your inmost souls, and make him all your own!

They hear me not--alas! how fond to rove

In endless chase of folly's specious lure!

'Tis here alone, beneath this shady grove,

I taste the sweets of truth--here only am secure.

The Swallow

I am fond of the swallow--I learn from her flight,

Had I skill to improve it, a lesson of love:

How seldom on earth do we see her alight!

She dwells in the skies, she is ever above.

It is on the wing that she takes her repose,

Suspended and poised in the regions of air,

'Tis not in our fields that her sustenance grows,

It is winged like herself--'tis ethereal fare.

She comes in the spring, all the summer she stays,

And, dreading the cold, still follows the sun--

So, true to our love, we should covet his rays,

And the place where he shines not immediately shun.

Our light should be love, and our nourishment prayer;

It is dangerous food that we find upon earth;

The fruit of this world is beset with a snare,

In itself it is hurtful, as vile in its birth.

'Tis rarely, if ever, she settles below,

And only when building a nest for her young;

Were it not for her brood, she would never bestow

A thought upon anything filthy as dung.

Let us leave it ourselves ('tis a mortal abode),

To bask every moment in infinite love;

Let us fly the dark winter, and follow the road

That leads to the dayspring appearing above.

The Triumph of Heavenly Love Desired

Ah! reign, wherever man is found!

My spouse, beloved and divine!

Then I am rich, and I abound,

When every human heart is thine.

A thousand sorrows pierce my soul,

To think that all are not thine own:

Ah! be adored from pole to pole;

Where is thy zeal? arise; be known!

All hearts are cold, in every place,

Yet earthly good with warmth pursue;

Dissolve them with a flash of grace,

Thaw these of ice, and give us new!

A Figurative Description of the Procedure of Divine Love

(In Bringing a Soul to the Point of Self-renunciation and Absolute Acquiescence)

'Twas my purpose, on a day,

To embark, and sail away.

As I climbed the vessel's side,

Love was sporting in the tide;

"Come," he said, "ascend--make haste,

Launch into the boundless waste."

Many mariners were there,

Having each his separate care;

They that rowed us held their eyes

Fixed upon the starry skies;

Others steered, or turned the sails,

To receive the shifting gales.

Love, with power divine supplied,

Suddenly my courage tried;

In a moment it was night,

Ship and skies were out of sight;

On the briny wave I lay,

Floating rushes all my stay.

Did I with resentment burn

At this unexpected turn?

Did I wish myself on shore,

Never to forsake it more?

No--"My soul," I cried, "be still;

If I must be lost, I will."

Next he hastened to convey

Both my frail supports away;

Seized my rushes; bade the waves

Yawn into a thousand graves:

Down I went, and sunk as lead,

Ocean closing o'er my head.

Still, however, life was safe;

And I saw him turn and laugh:

"Friend," he cried, "adieu! lie low,

While the wintry storms shall blow;

When the spring has calmed the main,

You shall rise and float again."

Soon I saw him, with dismay,

Spread his plumes, and soar away;

Now I mark his rapid flight;

Now he leaves my aching sight;

He is gone whom I adore,

'Tis in vain to seek him more.

How I trembled then and feared,

When my love had disappeared!

"Wilt thou leave me thus," I cried,

"Whelmed beneath the rolling tide?"

Vain attempt to reach his ear!

Love was gone, and would not hear.

Ah! return, and love me still;

See me subject to thy will;

Frown with wrath, or smile with grace,

Only let me see thy face!

Evil I have none to fear,

All is good, if thou art near.

Yet he leaves me--cruel fate!

Leaves me in my lost estate--

Have I sinned? Oh, say wherein;

Tell me, and forgive my sin!

King, and Lord, whom I adore,

Shall I see thy face no more?

Be not angry; I resign,

Henceforth, all my will to thine:

I consent that thou depart,

Though thine absence breaks my heart;

Go then, and for ever too:

All is right that thou wilt do.

This was just what Love intended;

He was now no more offended;

Soon as I became a child,

Love returned to me and smiled:

Never strife shall more betide

'Twixt the bridegroom and his bride.

A Child of God Longing to See Him Beloved

There's not an echo round me,

But I am glad should learn,

How pure a fire has found me,

The love with which I burn.

For none attends with pleasure

To what I would reveal;

They slight me out of measure,

And laugh at all I feel.

The rocks receive less proudly

The story of my flame;

When I approach, they loudly

Reverberate his name.

I speak to them of sadness,

And comforts at a stand;

They bid me look for gladness,

And better days at hand.

Far from all habitation,

I heard a happy sound;

Big with the consolation,

That I have often found.

I said, "My lot is sorrow,

My grief has no alloy;"

The rocks replied--"Tomorrow,

Tomorrow brings thee joy."

These sweet and sacred tidings,

What bliss it is to hear!

For, spite of all my chidings,

My weakness and my fear,

No sooner I receive them,

Than I forget my pain,

And, happy to believe them,

I love as much again.

I fly to scenes romantic,

Where never men resort;

For in an age so frantic

Impiety is sport.

For riot and confusion

They barter things above;

Condemning, as delusion,

The joy of perfect love.

In this sequestered corner,

None hears what I express;

Delivered from the scorner,

What peace do I possess!

Beneath the boughs reclining,

Or roving o'er the wild,

I live as undesigning

And harmless as a child.

No troubles here surprise me,

I innocently play,

While Providence supplies me,

And guards me all the day:

My dear and kind defender

Preserves me safely here,

From men of pomp and splendour,

Who fill a child with fear.

Aspirations of the Soul After God

My Spouse! in whose presence I live,

Sole object of all my desires,

Who know'st what a flame I conceive,

And canst easily double its fires!

How pleasant is all that I meet!

From fear of adversity free,

I find even sorrow made sweet;

Because 'tis assigned me by thee.

Transported I see thee display

Thy riches and glory divine;

I have only my life to repay,

Take what I would gladly resign.

Thy will is the treasure I seek,

For thou art as faithful as strong;

There let me, obedient and meek,

Repose myself all the day long.

My spirit and faculties fail;

Oh, finish what love has begun!

Destroy what is sinful and frail,

And dwell in the soul thou hast won!

Dear theme of my wonder and praise,

I cry, who is worthy as thou?

I can only be silent and gaze!

'Tis all that is left to me now.

Oh, glory in which I am lost,

Too deep for the plummet of thought;

On an ocean of Deity tossed,

I am swallowed, I sink into nought.

Yet, lost and absorbed as I seem,

I chant to the praise of my King;

And, though overwhelmed by the theme,

Am happy whenever I sing.

Gratitude and Love to God

All are indebted much to thee,

But I far more than all,

From many a deadly snare set free,

And raised from many a fall.

Overwhelm me, from above,

Daily, with thy boundless love.

What bonds of gratitude I feel

No language can declare;

Beneath the oppressive weight I reel,

'Tis more than I can bear:

When shall I that blessing prove,

To return thee love for love?

Spirit of charity, dispense

Thy grace to every heart;

Expel all other spirits thence,

Drive self from every part;

Charity divine, draw nigh,

Break the chains in which we lie!

All selfish souls, whate'er they feign,

Have still a slavish lot;

They boast of liberty in vain,

Of love, and feel it not.

He whose bosom glows with thee,

He, and he alone, is free.

Oh blessedness, all bliss above,

When thy pure fires prevail!

Love only teaches what is love:

All other lessons fail:

We learn its name, but not its powers,

Experience only makes it ours.

Happy Solitude--Unhappy Men

My heart is easy, and my burden light;

I smile, though sad, when thou art in my sight:

The more my woes in secret I deplore,

I taste thy goodness, and I love thee more.

There, while a solemn stillness reigns around,

Faith, love, and hope within my soul abound;

And, while the world suppose me lost in care,

The joys of angels, unperceived, I share.

Thy creatures wrong thee, O thou sovereign good!

Thou art not loved, because not understood;

This grieves me most, that vain pursuits beguile

Ungrateful men, regardless of thy smile.

Frail beauty and false honour are adored;

While Thee they scorn, and trifle with thy Word;

Pass, unconcerned, a Saviour's sorrows by;

And hunt their ruin with a zeal to die.

Living Water

The fountain in its source,

No drought of summer fears;

The farther it pursues its course,

The nobler it appears.

But shallow cisterns yield

A scanty short supply;

The morning sees them amply filled,

At evening they are dry.

Truth and Divine Love Rejected by the World

O love, of pure and heavenly birth!

O simple truth, scarce known on earth!

Whom men resist with stubborn will;

And, more perverse and daring still,

Smother and quench, with reasonings vain,

While error and deception reign.

Whence comes it, that, your power the same

As His on high from whence you came,

Ye rarely find a listening ear,

Or heart that makes you welcome here?--

Because ye bring reproach and pain,

Where'er ye visit, in your train.

The world is proud, and cannot bear

The scorn and calumny ye share;

The praise of men the mark they mean,

They fly the place where ye are seen;

Pure love, with scandal in the rear,

Suits not the vain; it costs too dear.

Then, let the price be what it may,

Though poor, I am prepared to pay;

Come shame, come sorrow; spite of tears,

Weakness, and heart-oppressing fears;

One soul, as least, shall not repine,

To give you room; come, reign in mine!

Divine Justice Amiable

Thou hast no lightnings, O thou Just!

Or I their force should know;

And, if thou strike me into dust,

My soul approves the blow.

The heart, that values less its ease

Than it adores thy ways,

In thine avenging anger sees

A subject of its praise.

Pleased I could lie, concealed and lost,

In shades of central night;

Not to avoid thy wrath, thou know'st,

But lest I grieve thy sight.

Smite me, O thou, whom I provoke!

And I will love thee still:

The well deserved and righteous stroke

Shall please me, though it kill.

Am I not worthy to sustain

The worst thou canst devise;

And dare I seek thy throne again,

And meet thy sacred eyes?

Far from afflicting, thou art kind;

And, in my saddest hours,

An unction of thy grace I find,

Pervading all my powers.

Alas! thou sparest me yet again;

And, when thy wrath should move,

Too gentle to endure my pain,

Thou soothest me with thy love.

I have no punishment to fear;

But, ah! that smile from thee

Imparts a pang far more severe

Than woe itself would be.

The Soul That Loves God Finds Him Everywhere

O thou, by long experience tried,

Near whom no grief can long abide;

My love! how full of sweet content

I pass my years of banishment!

All scenes alike engaging prove

To souls impressed with sacred love!

Where'er they dwell, they dwell in thee;

In heaven, in earth, or on the sea.

To me remains nor place nor time;

My country is in every clime;

I can be calm and free from care

On any shore, since God is there.

While place we seek, or place we shun,

The soul finds happiness in none;

But, with a God to guide our way,

'Tis equal joy to go or stay.

Could I be cast where thou art not,

That were indeed a dreadful lot;

But regions none remote I call,

Secure of finding God in all.

My country, Lord, art thou alone;

Nor other can I claim or own;

The point where all my wishes meet;

My law, my love, life's only sweet!

I hold by nothing here below;

Appoint my journey and I go;

Though pierced by scorn, oppressed by pride,

I feel thee good--feel nought beside.

No frowns of men can hurtful prove

To souls on fire with heavenly love;

Though men and devils both condemn,

No gloomy days arise from them.

Ah, then! to his embrace repair;

My soul, thou art no stranger there;

There love divine shall be thy guard,

And peace and safety thy reward.

The Testimony of Divine Adoption

How happy are the new-born race,

Partakers of adopting grace!

How pure the bliss they share!

Hid from the world and all its eyes,

Within their heart the blessing lies,

And conscience feels it there.

The moment we believe, 'tis ours;

And if we love with all our powers

The God from whom it came;

And if we serve with hearts sincere,

'Tis still discernible and clear,

An undisputed claim.

But, ah! if foul and wilful sin

Stain and dishonour us within,

Farewell the joy we knew;

Again the slaves of nature's sway,

In labyrinths of our own we stray,

Without a guide or clue.

The chaste and pure, who fear to grieve

The gracious Spirit they receive,

His work distinctly trace;

And, strong in undissembling love,

Boldly assert and clearly prove

Their hearts his dwelling-place.

Oh, messenger of dear delight,

Whose voice dispels the deepest night,

Sweet peace-proclaiming Dove!

With thee at hand, to soothe our pains,

No wish unsatisfied remains,

No task but that of love.

'Tis love unites what sin divides;

The centre, where all bliss resides;

To which the soul once brought,

Reclining on the first great cause,

From his abounding sweetness draws

Peace passing human thought.

Sorrow forgoes its nature there,

And life assumes a tranquil air,

Divested of its woes;

There sovereign goodness soothes the breast,

Till then incapable of rest,

In sacred sure repose.

Divine Love Endures No Rival

Love is the Lord whom I obey,

Whose will transported I perform;

The centre of my rest, my stay,

Love's all in all to me, myself a worm.

For uncreated charms I burn,

Oppressed by slavish fear no more,

For One in whom I may discern,

E'en when he frowns, a sweetness I adore.

He little loves him who complains,

And finds him rigorous and severe;

His heart is sordid, and he feigns,

Though loud in boasting of a soul sincere.

Love causes grief, but 'tis to move

And stimulate the slumbering mind;

And he has never tasted love

Who shuns a plan so graciously designed.

Sweet is the cross, above all sweets,

To souls enamoured with thy smiles;

The keenest woe life ever meets,

Love strips of all its terrors, and beguiles.

'Tis just that God should not be dear

Where self engrosses all the thought,

And groans and murmurs make it clear,

Whatever else is loved, the Lord is not.

The love of thee flows just as much

As that of ebbing self subsides;

Our hearts, their scantiness is such,

Bear not the conflict of two rival tides.

Both cannot govern in one soul;

Then let self-love be dispossessed;

The love of God deserves the whole,

And will not dwell with so despised a guest.

Self-diffidence

Source of love, and light of day,

Tear me from myself away;

Every view and thought of mine

Cast into the mould of thine;

Teach, O teach this faithless heart

A consistent constant part;

Or, if it must live to grow

More rebellious, break it now!

Is it thus that I requite

Grace and goodness infinite?

Every trace of every boon

Cancelled and erased so soon!

Can I grieve thee, whom I love;

Thee, in whom I live and move?

If my sorrow touch thee still,

Save me from so great an ill!

Oh! the oppressive, irksome weight,

Felt in an uncertain state;

Comfort, peace, and rest, adieu,

Should I prove at last untrue!

Still I choose thee, follow still

Every notice of thy will;

But, unstable, strangely weak,

Still let slip the good I seek.

Self-confiding wretch, I thought

I could serve thee as I ought,

Win thee, and deserve to feel

All the love thou canst reveal;

Trusting self, a bruised reed,

Is to be deceived indeed:

Save me from this harm and loss,

Lest my gold turn all to dross!

Self is earthly--faith alone

Makes an unseen world our own;

Faith relinquished, how we roam,

Feel our way, and leave our home!

Spurious gems our hopes entice,

While we scorn the pearl of price;

And, preferring servants' pay,