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The Sabbath Of The Woods
By Kate Seymour Maclean
Sundown--and silence--and deep peace,--
Night's benediction and release;--
The tints of day die out and cease.
This morn I heard the Sabbath bells
Across the breezy upland swells;--
My path lay down the woodland dells.
To-day, I said, the dust of creeds,
The wind of words reach not my needs;--
I worship with the birds and weeds.
From height to height the sunbeam sprung,
The wild vine, touched with vermeil, clung,
The mountain brooklet leapt and sung.
The white lamp of the lily made
A tender light in deepest shade,--
The solitary place was glad.
The very air was tremulous,--
I felt its deep and reverent hush,--
God burned before me in the bush!
And nature prayed with folded palm,
And looks that wear perpetual calm,--
The while glad notes uplifted psalm.
The wild rose swung her fragrant vase,
The daisy answered from her place,--
Praise Him whose looks are full of grace.
And violets murmured where the feet
Of brooks made hollows cool and deep;
He giveth His beloved sleep.
Wide stood the great cathedral doors,
Arched o'er with heaven's radiant floors;--
Nature, with lifted brow, adores.
And wave, and wind, and rocking trees,
And voice of birds, and hum of bees,
Made anthem, like the roll of seas.
The sunset vapors sail and swim;--
All day uprose their mighty hymn,--
I listened till the woods were dim.
And through the beechen aisles there fell
A silver silence, like a spell.
The heifer's home returning bell,
Faint and remote, as if it grew
A portion of that silence too,
Dissolved and ceased, like falling dew.
Stars twinkled through the coming night,--
A voice dropped down the purple height,--
At even time it shall he light.
Ah rest my soul, for God is good,
Though sometimes faintly understood,
His goodness fills the solitude.
Fold up thy spirit,--trust the right,
As blossoms fold their leaves at night,
And trust the sun though out of sight.
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