Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Volume 69, No. 423, January 1851

"And ever passed before me clouds of change,
Whose figures rose, and brightened, and declined;
And what was now familiar straight grew strange,
And, melting into vapours, left behind
No trace; and, as to silence sank the wind,
Appeared in heaven a beautiful bright star,
Under whose beams an Infant lay reclined;
And all the wheels of nature ceased their jar,
And choiring angels hymned that Presence from afar.

XVII

"And then, methought, upon a mountain stood
The Tree, from which, as shown to thee, should flow
That Oil of Mercy – but it looked like blood!
And, to all quarters of the earth below,
It streamed, until the desert ceased to know
Its curse of barrenness; the clouds away
Passed in their darkness from the noon; and lo!
Even backwards flowed that brightness to this day,
And, Father, showed me thee, encircled by its ray: —

XVIII

"It showed me thee, from whom mankind had birth,
And myriads – countless as the sere leaves blown
From wintry woods – whose places on the earth,
Even from the burning to the icy zone,
Were to their sons' sons utterly unknown,
Awakening to a fresh, eternal morn:
Methinks I list that glad Hosannah's tone,
From shore to shore on all the breezes borne!
Then, Father, droop not thus, as utterly forlorn;

XIX

"A long, long future, freaked with sin and strife,
The generations of the world must know;
But surely from that Tree – the Tree of Life —
A healing for the nations yet will flow,
As God foretold thee."
"Freely then I go,
For steadfast is the Lord his word to keep,"
Said Adam, as his breathing, faint and slow,
Ceased; and like zephyr dying on the deep,
In hope matured to faith, the First Man fell asleep!

THE VOICE OF NATURE

'Twas in a lone sequestered dell,
And on a summer's eve;
The sun's last glances ling'ring fell,
As loath the spot to leave:

For never sun more blithely rose
To light a scene more fair —
Day never had so sweet a close,
Or night a charm so rare.

And I have climbed the rocky steep
That cuts the vale in twain,
And gaze adown the lonely sweep
That seeks the vale again.

I gaze on many a stately dome
Of high imperious name,
On many a low and humble home
Unglorified by fame:

But all are wrapt in deep repose,
And not a sound is there
To tell how swift the River flows
Between the banks of Care.

Unmarked, the stream of life glides on
To that Eternal Sea,
Where earthly sun hath never shone,
Nor aught of earth can be.

And this, to me, is as a spell
That binds me to the night —
That bathes each wild untrodden dell
In waves of mystic light.

There are who say this wondrous world
Is but the work of chance;
That earth, like some huge scroll, unfurled,
And wrought its own advance;

That senseless atoms blindly grew
Into a world of light;
That creatures no Creator knew —
That death's eternal night!

O Man, with aspirations high,
Is this the end you crave?
Oh Man, with soul that cannot die,
And perish in the grave —