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WOOD WALK AND HYMN.
The silence and the sound,
In the lone places, breathe alike of thee;
The temple twilight of the gloom profound,
The dew cup of the frail anemone,
The reed by every wandering whisper thrill'd—
All, all with thee are fill'd!
Oh! purify mine eyes,
More and yet more, by love and lowly thought,
Thy presence, holiest One! to recognize,
In these majestic aisles which thou hast wrought!
And 'midst their sea-like murmurs, teach mine ear
Ever thy voice to hear!
And sanctify my heart
To meet the awful sweetness of that tone
With no faint thrill or self-accusing start,
But a deep joy the heavenly guest to own—
Joy, such as dwelt in Eden's glorious bowers
Ere sin had dimm'd the flowers.
