Poems (Emma M. Ballard Bell)/The Human Soul.—Its Past, Present and Future
THE HUMAN SOUL.—ITS PAS, PRESENT, AND FUTURE.
O human soul! thou wondrous work divine,Born later than the spheres, yet shall survive them all,Whence comest thou? and whither tends thy way?Tell us, O human soul! thy history;Tell us, O human soul! thy destiny.Long silent ages have their courses runSince on this earth thy presence first was knownOh, tell us, in that dim and silent past,Amid what lights and shadows thou hast roamed,What holy aspirations have been thine,What revolutions in the spheres of thought,What conflicts and what vict'ries thou hast known,What revelations have to thee been giv'n.And where, O soul! hast thou thy records left?Amid the band of muses, is there oneWho keeps for aye the sacred trust for thee?If such there be, O muse! whate'er thy name,We breathe an invocation unto thee. Behold! she comes, of bright and noble mien,A calm light beaming in her serious eye. Within one hand she bears an ancient scroll;And Clio, muse of Hist'ry, takes our hand,To lead us back into the silent past,To search thy history, O human soul!She lifts the veil of sixty centuries.And now behold, in Palestina's climeThe human soul, rejoicing in its pow'rsOf new-born dignity and strength, receivesPrimeval science from its Maker's hand,Exalted converse doth with beings hold,Immortal dwellers of celestial spheres,Yet drawn by holy bonds of sympathyWith human soul companionship to claim.These were thy Eden days, O human soul!Whence came o'er thee so soon that shadow dark?It was the shadow of Jehovah's frown;For thou His mandate high hadst disobeyed,And broke the bonds uniting thee to Heav'n.Then some of thy great pow'rs, to powers turnedOf darkness, and yet mighty still in strength,Worked woe and desolation all around.A moral darkness spread o'er all the earth;Just indignation filled the courts of Heaven,And sadness reigned far through the universe;The very heav'ns, that sphered the darkened earth,Grew black and dismal at Jehovah's frown.The angry clouds then to each other spoke In tongues of fire; and back the answers cameIn hollow groans. The fountains of the deepWere broken up, and heaven's windows oped;And earth was buried 'neath a wat'ry tide.Long days and nights the elements prevailed.At last, by mandate of the Will supreme,The earth emerged from its baptismal flood.And now for thee, O soul! new life began;For, humbled, and distrustful of thy own,But filled with awe at the Almighty pow'r,The infinite now reigneth o'er thy thoughts.These were thy days of faith, O human soul!An epoch in thy history, sublime.'Twas then, when God to earth again drew near,From Sinai, witness of His presence dread,The Revelation unto thee was giv'n,Unfolding, O thou soul! thy duties high. And now we turn from Palestina's land,And journey far away to other climes.The burning skies of India o'er us bend;And, far beyond, the seas of China roll.The clust'ring hills of Persia gently rise;And Egypt's land is in the distance seen.Yet o'er these lands, so rich in nature's gifts,The light of Revelation had not shone.Yet, bearing as thou didst, O human soul!Thy Maker's image in thy essence deep, Here, as a dweller of these tropic climes,Deprived of Revelation's clearer lightTo tell thee of the true and only God,Yet from the dim vague mem'ries of thy birth,And from thy intuitions strong and deep,Thy thought pow'rs strange yet grand conceptions wrought.The muse of History unrolls her scroll;And, gazing on its mystic page, we traceThese strange bright offsprings of primordial thought. And who this Being pure, the Infinite?First substance, plunged in slumber deep divine,Existence wrapped in shadows luminous?Yet, waking from this slumber, speaks the word,And all creation into being springs.To India's clime the muse of Hist'ry turns,And says to us, "Behold their deity."Philosophy and science here unfold,All wrapped in these primordial forms of thought. But in the past we may not linger long;And farther gaze along the mystic page.Taiki—the summit great, what means this name?'Tis Reason primitive, whence all proceeds;And all creation on this summit rests.Where had this thought its birth? To China's landWe turn. The muse with smile confirms our thought.What great thought, Persia, found with thee its home? Illimitable time—Eternity.From this Eternal came the Pure and Good;Of light the being;—the creative word.The essence too of darkness from it came;And light and darkness ruled the universe,—And hence in time's dominion deadly strife.But darkness should at last be changed to light;Creation's strife should end, and all be peace. Philosophy of Egypt claims a thought,Its deity the source of life and light,And principle of all existences. Now from these lands our way we quickly turn,And journey onward to the isles of Greece.What contests here, O soul! thy pow'rs have waged!What glorious vict'ries, too, were here achieved!Too long we linger here, if we would traceThe elements of darkness and of light,Now leading thee to error, now to truth.The elements of darkness passing then,Some elements of light we here would trace,For thee portending brighter mental day.Three names upon the ancient page we see;Immortal names, whose glory ne'er shall die.O Socrates! we hail thee as the oneWho led Philosophy to Truth's own land,Through Wisdom's and through Virtue's holy gates.O Plato! rev'rently we breathe thy name, The great of intellect, the high of soul,Who taught Philosophy to soar aboveMaterial changing forms of time and space,And rest within Ideas' own true realm;Ideas changeless as their Source divine.And, oh! what homage do we render thee,Thou mighty giant in the world of thought!And not till thought itself shall cease to be,Shall Aristotle find oblivion's shade.Much truth within, Philosophy here found;Much grandeur in ideas Art hath wrought. We fain would linger on thy classic shores,Thou Heaven-gifted, thou beloved Greece;But fleeting time forbids our longer stay. O human soul! how great, how high thy thought,Though broke the links uniting thee to Heav'n!And now Jehovah's eye is on thee turned,In pity for thy sad, thy lost estate;And God's own hand shall bind those broken linksAnd claim thee once again the child of Heav'n.And yet let sorrow mingle with thy joy;For thee, redemption's work is only wroughtThrough anguish and through suffering Divine.This solemn epoch in thy historyThou shalt, O soul! within thy mem'ry bearWhile everlasting ages onward roll. Philosophy and Art shall serve thee still, Made nobler through the influence divineReligion's presence o'er their spirits wields.The muse of Hist'ry drops the veil of time,And in the past's dim land we roam no more,But with the present now stand face to face. O human soul! thou wondrous work divine,Born later than the spheres, yet shall survive them all,The light of eighteen centuries is thine.The holy and the great of ev'ry age,Their voices sounding through the halls of time,To action, noble action, call thee now.The High and Holy One who rules o'er all,Who unto thee, O soul! thy being gave,For mighty, glorious work hath destined thee.The world of thought all round about thee lies;'Tis bounded only by infinity;Here thou, O human soul! mayst ever roam.Behold! afar beneath the bright clear blazeOf Heav'n's own light, a lofty temple stands.Speed thitherward, O soul! thy willing way;Tis Truth, 'tis God's own priestess meets thee there.Oh, fear not thou to lay upon her shrineAll that thou art, and all thou hast to give;Immortal glory thy reward shall be.And mighty is the work her cause demands;For dark contending pow'rs roam o'er the earth,With deadly weapons armed; though oft disguised As forms of light their evil forms conceal.Of sordid visage, 'mong them Mammon stands.To Christ's own cherished one, the Church, he cries,"Fear not the splendid gifts I offer thee:These dazzling gems, these goodly pearls receive;They'll but new lustre to thy beauty give."And 'mong opposing pow'rs is none more darkThan Persecution, of dark, hating eye,Reheating ceaselessly his raging fires.And false Philosophy obtrusive seeksBewild'ring shades upon the light to castThat Truth's own ministers disperse around.Nor are there wanting base, ignoble pow'rs,O noble Art! to call thee them to aid;Nor here vain Pleasure's flatt'ring voice, to callTo earthly joys the Heav'n-directed soul.O Zion's Daughter! heed not Mammon's voice;False gems and pearls are those he offers thee;Receive not, then, those vain though dazzling gems,But Christ's white lilies wreathe around thy brow;Array thyself in thine own bridal robes,The pure white bridal robes of righteousness.A regal throne awaits thee; Christ shall come,And at His right hand thou shalt sit a queen;;For lo! thy Bridegroom is the King of kings.Philosophy, we call on thee to guardThy sanctuaries from intruders dark. Thy work is holy, and thy aims are high,And high and holy thy reward shall be.O noble Art! keep heavenward thine eye;Thy work is noble, noble thy reward.O human soul! on Truth's bright holy shrineLay all thou art, and all thou hast to give.Truth's pow'rs shall be triumphant over all:Triumphant o'er those dark, contending pow'rs,Triumphant o'er the peril and the strife,And o'er the flames of Persecution's fires.The past, the present, call on thee to act.If well thy work is done, then far away,Beyond the uncongenial climes of earth,Beyond the wondrous heav'ns that o'er thee bend,A glorious future waiteth thee, O soul!And then thy spirit-pinions, plumed anew,Shall sweep with pow'rs sublime the sphere of thought;Thy Father's smile shall there thy sunlight be,Thy Saviour's love in blessing on thee rest;And angel friends around thee, happy soul,Shall gently clasp affection's golden links.Thou hadst thy past; thou hast thy present now;And thou shalt have thy future, human soul.
O past and present! ye are wondrous words:A world of meaning to our thoughts ye bring.Each life hath had its past; its present feels;Its future, yet untried, shall feel and know.