What are ten thousand worlds compared to Thee?
What am I then? Heaven's unnumbered hoft,
Though multiplied by myriads and arrayed
In all the glory of fublimeft thought,
Is but an atom in the balance weighed
Against Thy greatness-is a cypher brought
Against infinity! What am I then ?-nought.
Nought-but the influence of Thy light divine,
Pervading worlds, hath reached my bofom too!
Yes, in my spirit doth Thy Spirit fhine,
As fhines the funbeam in a drop of dew.
Nought-but I live, and on Hope's pinions fly
Eager towards thy presence: for in Thee
I live, and breathe, and dwell; I lift my eye
Even to the throne of Thy divinity;
I am, O God, and furely Thou must be !
THOU ART! directing, guiding all. THOU ART!
Direct my understanding then to Thee;
Control my spirit, guide my wandering heart;
Though but an atom 'midst immensity,
Still I am something fashioned by Thy hand;
I hold a middle rank 'twixt Heaven and Earth,
On the last verge of mortal being stand,
Close to the realms where angels have their birth,
Just on the bound'ries of the spirit land.
The chain of being is complete in me;
In me is matter's laft gradation loft,
And the next step is Spirit-Deity!
I can command the lightning and am dust!
A monarch and a flave; a worm, a God!
Whence came I here, and how? So marvellous,
Conftructed and conceived? Unknown, this clod
Lives furely through some higher energy :
For from itself alone it could not be.
Creator! Yes-Thy wisdom and Thy Word
Created me! Thou source of life and good!
Thou Spirit of my spirit and my Lord;
Thy light, Thy love, in their bright plenitude,
Fill'd me with an immortal song, to spring
O'er the abyss of death, and bade it wear
The garments of eternal day, and wing
Its heavenly flight beyond this little sphere,
Even to its fource-to Thee-its Author there.
O thought ineffable! O vifions bleft!
Though worthless are conceptions all of Thee-
Yet shall Thy shadowed image fill our breast,
And waft its homage to thy Deity.
God! thus alone my lowly thoughts can soar,
Thus feek Thy presence-being wise and good —
'Midft Thy vaft works, admire, obey, adore!
And when the tongue is eloquent no more,
The foul shall speak in tears of gratitude.
*The above magnificent ode, by a distinguished Ruffian poet, is faid to have been tranflated into the Chinese and Tartar languages, and fufpended in the Imperial Palace at Pekin, which was deftroyed by the English armies in the war of 1860. It is alfo tranflated into the Japanese tongue, and hangs in the temple of Jeddo.
HERE is an unknown language spoken By the loud winds that fweep the fky;
By the dark ftorm-clouds, thunder-
broken,
And waves on rocks that dafh and die;
By the lone ftar, whofe beams wax pale,
The moonlight fleeping on the vale,
The mariner's fweet diftant hymn,
The horizon that before us flies,
The crystal firmament that lies
In the smooth fea reflected dim.
"Tis breathed by the cool ftreams at morning,
The funfet on the mountain's fhades,
The fnow that day-break is adorning,
And eve that on the turret fades ;
The city's founds that rife and fink,
The fair fwan on the river's brink,
The quivering cyprefs' murmured fighs,
The ancient temple on the hill,
The folemn filence, deep and still,
Within the foreft's myfteries.
Of Thee, O God! this voice is telling,
Thou who art Truth, Life, Hope, and Love;
On whom night calls from her dark dwelling,
To whom bright morning looks above;
Of Thee, proclaimed by every found,
Whom nature's all-mysterious round
Declares, yet not defines Thy light;
Of Thee, the abyss and fource, whence all
Our fouls proceed, in which they fall,
Who haft but one name-INFINITE.
All men on earth may hear and treasure
This voice, refounding from all time;
Each one, according to his measure,
Interpreting its sense sublime.
But ah! the more our fpirits weak
Within its holy depths would feek,
The more this vain world's pleasures cloy ;
A weight, too great for earthly mind,
O'erwhelms its powers, until we find
In folitude our only joy.
So when the feeble eyeball fixes
Its fight upon the glorious fun,
Whofe gold-emblazoned chariot mixes
With rofy clouds that towards it run;
The dazzled gaze all powerless sinks,
Blind with the radiance which it drinks,
And fees but gloomy fpecks float by;
And darkness indiftinct o'erfhade
Wood, meadow, hill, and pleasant glade,
And the clear bofom of the sky.
AM old and blind!
Men point to me as fmitten by God's
Afflicted and deferted of
I am weak, yet ftrong
I murmur not that I no longer fee.
Poor, old, and helpless, I the more belong,
Father fupreme! to Thee.
When men are fartheft, then Thou art moft near; When friends pass by, my weakness fhun,
Is leaning towards me,-and its holy light
Shines in upon my lonely dwelling-place,
And there is no more night.
I recognise Thy purpose clearly shown
My vifion Thou haft dimmed that I
Thyfelf, Thyfelf alone.
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