194
NIGHT.
Those glorious orbs that on thy dark brow gleam,That in the heav'ns with light celestial beam;And when above we lift our wond'ring eyesAnd view the glories of the midnight skies,How longs the spirit then for wings to soarThrough starry lands by angels trod before,That it may view with clear-discerning eyesE'en some of God's unfathomed mysteries!And can these aspirations of the soul be wrong,These yearnings of the spirit, deep and strong?No! Though God's thoughts are not as thoughts of man,His secret ways no mortal e'er can scan,Yet as we journey to perfection's goalWe'll cherish still these longings of the soul,Still keep our eyes fixed on the heights above,And still with earnest strivings onward move.We know not but when this brief life is pastOur 'wishes may be realized at last;But should this be, the soul, though richly blest,Would not deem this enough, nor idly rest,But higher longings still would then be born,With ever-wid'ning range as beams of morn.Each star, O Night, that glitters in thy crown,That gazes on this earth majestic down,Seems like a pleader to this earth-sphere giv'nTo woo man's thoughts from earthly things to heav'n.
