WHERE is Thy favour’d haunt, eternal Voice,
The region of
Where, undisturb’d by sin and earth, the soul
Owns Thy entire
‘Tis on the mountain’s summit dark and high,
are hurrying by:
‘Tis ‘mid the strong foundations of the earth,
have their birth.
No sounds of worldly toil ascending there,
Mar the full
burst of prayer;
Lone Nature feels that she may freely breathe,
And round us
Are heard her sacred tones; the fitful sweep
Of winds across
Through wither’d bents—romantic note and clear,
Meet for a hermit’s
The wheeling kite’s wild solitary cry,
heard so high,
The dashing waters when the air is still
From many a
That winds unseen beneath the shaggy fell,
Track’d by the
blue mist well:
Such sounds as make deep silence in the heart
to do her part.
‘Tis then we hear the voice of GOD within,
care and sin:
“Child of My love! how have I wearied thee?
“Why wilt thou
err from Me?
“Have I not brought thee from the house of slaves,
“And set My saints before thee in the way,
“Lest thou shouldst
faint or stray ?
“What! was the promise made to thee alone?
“Art thou th’
“An heir of glory without grief or pain?
“O vision false
“There lies thy cross; beneath it meekly bow;
“It fits thy
“Who scornful pass it with averted eye,
“Raise thy repining eyes, and take true measure
“Of thine eternal
“The Father of thy Lord can grudge thee nought,
“The world for
thee was bought,
“And as this landscape broad—earth, sea, and sky,—
in thine eye,
“So all God does, if rightly understood,
thy final good.”