The summer is coming to sky and to bower; BOY. Yes, mother, I loved in the sunshine to play, Aud talk with the birds and the blossoms all day, But sweeter the songs of the spirits on high, And brighter the glories round God in the sky : I see them! I hear them! they pull at my heart! My mother, my mother, O let me depart! MOTHER. O do not desert us! Our hearts will be drear, ΒΟΥ. This world, dearest mother! O live not for this ; No, press on with me to the fulness of bliss! And, trust me, whatever bright fields I may roam, My heart will not wander from you and from home. Believe me still near you on pinions of love; MOTHER. Well,-go, my beloved! The conflict is o'er :-My pleas are all selfish ; I urge them no more. Why chain your bright spirit down here to the clod, So thirsting for freedom, so ripe for its God? Farewell, then! farewell, till we meet at the Throne, Where love fears no partings, and tears are unknown! ΒΟΥ. O glory! O glory! what music! what light! What wonders break in on my heart, on my sight! I come, blessed spirits! I hear you from high. O frail, faithless nature, can this be to die? So near! what, so near to my Saviour and King? O help me, ye angels, His glories to sing! THE ALPS. THE Alps-the Alps-the joyous Alps, Are all around me heaving high. I bow me to their snowy scalps, That rush into the sky. Hail, lordly land of storm and strife, 'Tis worth an age of common life To feel as I do here: To look down on that deep-blue lake; And ask for wings to fly: To bound the airy heights along; Above the floating clouds to stand; And meet Creation's God among The wonders of His hand. Hail, scenes of holy grandeur! hail ! Where mortal sense stands hushed and awed. O, who could gaze on such, and fail To think of Thee, my God? Alone and dread Thou dwellest here, I look around in joy and fear, And feel I am with Thee! I see Thee on the mountains sit, At summer's noon, sublime and still ; Or in the giant shadows flit Along from hill to hill. |