4559228Poems — OmnipresenceJane Elizabeth Roscoe Hornblower
OMNIPRESENCE.
How sweet, in holy solitude,
To fold the hands and raise the heart;
No sounds to mar the sanctitude
That sacred silence doth impart,
When, on the hushed and pensive air,
A still small voice is answering prayer.

How sweet to feel a present God—
Communion blest and deep!
Turn from the paths by others trod,
And kneel alone to weep;
And pour each inmost thought to Him,
The tears of love our eyes that dim.

We hear Him in the silence round;
We breathe our own, our child-like prayer;
No voices break the hush profound,
The holy calm that fills the air;
Alone with God, our spirits rise,
And claim affiance with the skies.

And sweet it is, in sacred walls,
Surrounded by our friends to stand,
The selfish love that oft enthralls
To cast, and join an holy band;
And hear then- choral voices raise,
Along with ours, the hymn of praise.

To hear the preacher's solemn voice,
Inspiring hopes and dreams of heaven,
And call his people to rejoice,
And hail the great salvation given;
Or in a gentler, humbler tone,
Their errors and their sins to own.

For sweet it is in prayer to bow,
Where every head is humbly bent,
And thousand hearts, in reverence low,
Then- mingled vows to heaven have sent;
Forgetful of each meaner aim,
Kindling our universal flame.

In sacred fane or loneliest spot,
O God! alike thy presence dwells;
For space or time to Thee is not;
In public haunts, or hermit cells,
To Thee the good, the pure, the wise,
Send everywhere a sacrifice!