For works with similar titles, see Midnight.
MIDNIGHT.
Midnight,—and nature round was hushed
In deep and dreamy slumber: not a sound,
Wherewith by day earth's busy multitudes
Are wont to break her sweet repose, came o'er
The ear, to tell of earthly care and strife.
The bird's sweet silvery voice had ceased its strain;
And man, whose bustling cares are most at war
With Nature, in the deep tranquillity
With which she works her great and glorious deeds,
Kept silence too, in this her Sabbath hour
Of rest and deep devotion.
In deep and dreamy slumber: not a sound,
Wherewith by day earth's busy multitudes
Are wont to break her sweet repose, came o'er
The ear, to tell of earthly care and strife.
The bird's sweet silvery voice had ceased its strain;
And man, whose bustling cares are most at war
With Nature, in the deep tranquillity
With which she works her great and glorious deeds,
Kept silence too, in this her Sabbath hour
Of rest and deep devotion.
Night! thou great
And ministering spirit to the soul
Of man, breathing of truth, and heaven, and God!
How dost thou lift the heart above the cares
And groveling thoughts of earth, its trivial things,
And link us to the Majesty above.
Above? O! everywhere, around, beneath,
Within, amid the kindling light of day,
The hushed repose of midnight, in the storm
And crash of elements, no less than in
The gentle breeze, that scarcely stirs the young
And dew-gemmed blossoms of the leafy May.
There is a beauty in the noontide blaze;
But dearer far those starry crowns on high,
That shine all gloriously upon the brow of night.
By day, amid the thronging cares of life,
We can forget the dignity of him
Whose nature links him to the myriad hosts,
That dwell amid the uncreated beams
Of heaven's effulgent day. We can forget
How we have turned us from the sacred Fount
Of truth and wisdom infinite. But when
Its star-gemmed mantle, darkness casts around,
O! who can gaze upon the countless realms
That stud the azure canopy above,
Nor feel his littleness, the vanity
Of earth and all its joys, the priceless wealth
Of heaven, and all his own immortal hopes?
Who does not yearn to soar to that abode,
Promised a sure and holy heritage,
To those who follow His supreme command,
Whose will created man for bliss and heaven?
And ministering spirit to the soul
Of man, breathing of truth, and heaven, and God!
How dost thou lift the heart above the cares
And groveling thoughts of earth, its trivial things,
And link us to the Majesty above.
Above? O! everywhere, around, beneath,
Within, amid the kindling light of day,
The hushed repose of midnight, in the storm
And crash of elements, no less than in
The gentle breeze, that scarcely stirs the young
And dew-gemmed blossoms of the leafy May.
There is a beauty in the noontide blaze;
But dearer far those starry crowns on high,
That shine all gloriously upon the brow of night.
By day, amid the thronging cares of life,
We can forget the dignity of him
Whose nature links him to the myriad hosts,
That dwell amid the uncreated beams
Of heaven's effulgent day. We can forget
How we have turned us from the sacred Fount
Of truth and wisdom infinite. But when
Its star-gemmed mantle, darkness casts around,
O! who can gaze upon the countless realms
That stud the azure canopy above,
Nor feel his littleness, the vanity
Of earth and all its joys, the priceless wealth
Of heaven, and all his own immortal hopes?
Who does not yearn to soar to that abode,
Promised a sure and holy heritage,
To those who follow His supreme command,
Whose will created man for bliss and heaven?
Thou sacred Fount of purity and love!
Whose guiding hand my feeble steps upholds,
O! give me strength that narrow way to tread,
Which leads me through the mazy path of earth
To heaven.
Whose guiding hand my feeble steps upholds,
O! give me strength that narrow way to tread,
Which leads me through the mazy path of earth
To heaven.