the emigrant's sabbath day.
15
They ask, that yet, amid the forests dim,
May echo holy psalm, and pealing hymn;
That once again, ere life's short day is gone,
Their ears may list the Gospel's cheering tone,
Proclaim'd by one commission'd from on high,
To speak the message of the Deity.
And when the day is past, and night's dark pall
Is spread o'er earth,—while stars a festival
Are keeping in their high and holy home,
And soft on human lids sweet slumbers come,
The exiles rest, to greet in pleasant dreams
Their native vales, green woods, and shining streams,
Forgetful of the weary leagues that spread
Between them and the land they long to tread.
May echo holy psalm, and pealing hymn;
That once again, ere life's short day is gone,
Their ears may list the Gospel's cheering tone,
Proclaim'd by one commission'd from on high,
To speak the message of the Deity.
And when the day is past, and night's dark pall
Is spread o'er earth,—while stars a festival
Are keeping in their high and holy home,
And soft on human lids sweet slumbers come,
The exiles rest, to greet in pleasant dreams
Their native vales, green woods, and shining streams,
Forgetful of the weary leagues that spread
Between them and the land they long to tread.
Go forth, ye heralds—may the Gospel's voice
Soon bid the lonely wilderness rejoice.
Tho' friends and home the emigrant has left,
Still let him feel as not of all bereft;
Bear to his ear, with all their thrilling power,
The strains he learned to love in childhood's hour,
The prayers which taught his youthful heart to rise
On faith's unfailing pinion to the skies;
Soon bid the lonely wilderness rejoice.
Tho' friends and home the emigrant has left,
Still let him feel as not of all bereft;
Bear to his ear, with all their thrilling power,
The strains he learned to love in childhood's hour,
The prayers which taught his youthful heart to rise
On faith's unfailing pinion to the skies;
