Poems Sigourney 1827/"Peradventure he sleepeth, and must be awaked."
"PERADVENTURE HE SLEEPETH, AND MUST BE AWAKED."
1 Kings, xviii. 27.
My dull heart slept. Its panoply was off,—
The festal hour had lull'd it, and the dew,
Swept from the flowers of brief Prosperity,
Fell like an opiate on it. The world's star,
Was dominant.—And so it coldly slept
Even in the house of God. The wakeful ear,
That trusty sentinel, essay'd in vain
To arouse its lethargy.—The organ pour'd
Such full, exulting melody, so claim'd
From all the living one pure hymn of praise,
That rapture's flush burn'd on the brighten'd cheek,
But on the secret altar of the heart
No incense glow'd.—Sweet Music sued in vain
At that seal'd portal.—Eloquence sprang forth,
From the blest teacher's lips, and in strong bands
Led chain'd attention,—yet the affections lay
In their dead trance.—But lowly Prayer knelt down,
Breathing her meek voice into Mercy's ear,
Through His dear name who bought the forfeit soul
With his own blood,—Firm Faith's unearthly glance,
And Hope bright-wing'd, and sainted Charity
Sustain'd the thrilling cadence, while it bore
The sinner to his God.—Then woke the heart,
And from its trembling fountain pour'd the tear
Which Penitence required and humbly sought
That sabbath blessing which it else had lost.—
So Prayer prevail'd, when Music child of Heaven,
And hallow'd Eloquence, like sounding brass,
And tinkling cymbal, smote the dreaming soul
In vain.