Poems (Welby)/Pulpit Eloquence
For works with similar titles, see Pulpit Eloquence.
PULPIT ELOQUENCE.
The day was declining—the breeze in its glee
Had left the fair blossoms to sing on the sea,
As the sun in its gorgeousness, radiant and still,
Dropped down like a gem from the brow of the hill;
One tremulous star, in the glory of June,
Came out with a smile and sat down by the moon,
As she graced her blue throne with the pride of a queen,
The smiles of her loveliness gladdening the scene.
Had left the fair blossoms to sing on the sea,
As the sun in its gorgeousness, radiant and still,
Dropped down like a gem from the brow of the hill;
One tremulous star, in the glory of June,
Came out with a smile and sat down by the moon,
As she graced her blue throne with the pride of a queen,
The smiles of her loveliness gladdening the scene.
The scene was enchanting! in distance away
Rolled the foam-crested waves of the Chesapeake bay,
While bathed in the moonlight, the village was seen,
With the church in the distance, that stood on the green,
The soft-sloping meadows lay brightly unrolled
With their mantles of verdure and blossoms of gold,
And the earth in her beauty, forgetting to grieve,
Lay asleep in her bloom on the bosom of eve.
Rolled the foam-crested waves of the Chesapeake bay,
While bathed in the moonlight, the village was seen,
With the church in the distance, that stood on the green,
The soft-sloping meadows lay brightly unrolled
With their mantles of verdure and blossoms of gold,
And the earth in her beauty, forgetting to grieve,
Lay asleep in her bloom on the bosom of eve.
A light-hearted child, I had wandered away
From the spot where my footsteps had gamboled all day,
And free, as a bird's, was the song of my soul,
As I heard the wild waters exultingly roll,
While, lightening my heart as I sported along
With bursts of low laughter and snatches of song,
I struck in the pathway half- worn o'er the sod
By the feet that went up to the worship of God.
From the spot where my footsteps had gamboled all day,
And free, as a bird's, was the song of my soul,
As I heard the wild waters exultingly roll,
While, lightening my heart as I sported along
With bursts of low laughter and snatches of song,
I struck in the pathway half- worn o'er the sod
By the feet that went up to the worship of God.
As I traced its green windings a murmur of prayer
With the hymn of the worshipers rose on the air;
And, drawn by the links of its sweetness along,
I stood unobserved in the midst of the throng,
For awhile my young spirit still wandered about
With the birds, and the winds, that were singing without,
But birds, waves, and zephyrs, were quickly forgot
In one angel-like being that brightened the spot.
With the hymn of the worshipers rose on the air;
And, drawn by the links of its sweetness along,
I stood unobserved in the midst of the throng,
For awhile my young spirit still wandered about
With the birds, and the winds, that were singing without,
But birds, waves, and zephyrs, were quickly forgot
In one angel-like being that brightened the spot.
In stature majestic, apart from the throng
He stood in his beauty, the theme of my song!
His cheek pale with fervor—the blue orbs above
Lit up with the splendors of youth and of love;
Yet the heart-glowing raptures, that beamed from those eyes,
Seemed saddened by sorrows, and chastened by sighs,
As if the young heart in its bloom had grown cold
With its loves unrequited, its sorrows untold.
He stood in his beauty, the theme of my song!
His cheek pale with fervor—the blue orbs above
Lit up with the splendors of youth and of love;
Yet the heart-glowing raptures, that beamed from those eyes,
Seemed saddened by sorrows, and chastened by sighs,
As if the young heart in its bloom had grown cold
With its loves unrequited, its sorrows untold.
Such language as his I may never recall;
But his theme was salvation—salvation to all;
And the souls of a thousand in ecstacy hung
On the manna-like sweetness, that dropped from his tongue;
Not alone on the ear his wild eloquence stole;
Enforced by each gesture it sank to the soul,
Till it seemed that an angel had brightened the sod
And brought to each bosom a message from God.
But his theme was salvation—salvation to all;
And the souls of a thousand in ecstacy hung
On the manna-like sweetness, that dropped from his tongue;
Not alone on the ear his wild eloquence stole;
Enforced by each gesture it sank to the soul,
Till it seemed that an angel had brightened the sod
And brought to each bosom a message from God.
He spoke of the Saviour—what pictures he drew!
The scene of His sufferings rose clear on my view—
The cross—the rude cross where he suffered and died,
The gush of bright crimson that flowed from His side,
The cup of his sorrows, the wormwood and gall,
The darkness that mantled the earth as a pall,
The garland of thorns, and the demon-like crews.
Who knelt as they scoffed Him—"Hail King of the Jews!"
The scene of His sufferings rose clear on my view—
The cross—the rude cross where he suffered and died,
The gush of bright crimson that flowed from His side,
The cup of his sorrows, the wormwood and gall,
The darkness that mantled the earth as a pall,
The garland of thorns, and the demon-like crews.
Who knelt as they scoffed Him—"Hail King of the Jews!"
He spake, and it seemed that his statue-like form
Expanded and glowed as his spirit grew warm—
His tone so impassioned, so melting his air,
As touched with compassion, he ended in prayer,
His hands clasped above him, his blue orbs upthrown,
Still pleading for sins that were never his own.
While that mouth, where such sweetness ineffable clung,
Still spoke, though expression had died on his tongue.
Expanded and glowed as his spirit grew warm—
His tone so impassioned, so melting his air,
As touched with compassion, he ended in prayer,
His hands clasped above him, his blue orbs upthrown,
Still pleading for sins that were never his own.
While that mouth, where such sweetness ineffable clung,
Still spoke, though expression had died on his tongue.
O God! what emotions the speaker awoke!
A mortal he seemed—yet a deity spoke;
A man—yet so far from humanity riven!
On earth—yet so closely connected with heaven!
How oft in my fancy I've pictured him there.
As he stood in that triumph of passion and prayer.
With his eyes closed in rapture—their transient eclipse
Made bright by the smiles, that illumined his lips.
A mortal he seemed—yet a deity spoke;
A man—yet so far from humanity riven!
On earth—yet so closely connected with heaven!
How oft in my fancy I've pictured him there.
As he stood in that triumph of passion and prayer.
With his eyes closed in rapture—their transient eclipse
Made bright by the smiles, that illumined his lips.
There 's a charm in delivery, a magical art,
That thrills, like a kiss, from the lip to the heart;
'T is the glance—the expression—the well-chosen word,
By whose magic the depths of the spirit are stirred,
The smile—the mute gesture—^the soul-startling pause,
The eye's sweet expression—that melts while it awes,
The lip's soft persuasion—its musical tone—
such was the charm of that eloquent one!
That thrills, like a kiss, from the lip to the heart;
'T is the glance—the expression—the well-chosen word,
By whose magic the depths of the spirit are stirred,
The smile—the mute gesture—^the soul-startling pause,
The eye's sweet expression—that melts while it awes,
The lip's soft persuasion—its musical tone—
such was the charm of that eloquent one!
The time is long past, yet how clearly defined
That bay, church, and village, float up on my mind!
I see amid azure the moon in her pride,
With the sweet little trembler, that sat by her side,
I hear the blue waves, as she wanders along,
Leap up in their gladness and sing her a song,
And I tread in the pathway half-worn o'er the sod
By the feet that went up to the worship of God.
That bay, church, and village, float up on my mind!
I see amid azure the moon in her pride,
With the sweet little trembler, that sat by her side,
I hear the blue waves, as she wanders along,
Leap up in their gladness and sing her a song,
And I tread in the pathway half-worn o'er the sod
By the feet that went up to the worship of God.
The time is long past, yet what visions I see!
The past, the dim past, is the present to me;
I am standing once more mid that heart-stricken throng,
A vision floats up—'t is the theme of my song—
All glorious and bright as a spirit of air,
The light like a halo encircling his hair—
As I catch the same accents of sweetness and love,
He whispers of Jesus—and points us above.
The past, the dim past, is the present to me;
I am standing once more mid that heart-stricken throng,
A vision floats up—'t is the theme of my song—
All glorious and bright as a spirit of air,
The light like a halo encircling his hair—
As I catch the same accents of sweetness and love,
He whispers of Jesus—and points us above.
How sweet to my heart is the picture I've traced!
Its chain of bright fancies seemed almost effaced,
Till memory, the fond one, that sits in the soul,
Took up the frail links, and connected the whole;
As the dew to the blossom, the bud to the bee,
As the scent to the rose, are those memories to me;
Round the chords of my heart they have tremblingly clung,
And the echo it gives is the song I have sung.
Its chain of bright fancies seemed almost effaced,
Till memory, the fond one, that sits in the soul,
Took up the frail links, and connected the whole;
As the dew to the blossom, the bud to the bee,
As the scent to the rose, are those memories to me;
Round the chords of my heart they have tremblingly clung,
And the echo it gives is the song I have sung.