John Bowring Poems

He in heaven who ever liveth,
Thus hath spoken: 'Not to you
Give I, as the vain world giveth,
Fleeting things and worthless too;
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Yes! hopeful-trustful-onward ever,
Each helping each-all urging all;
The mighty stream, receding never;
The rippling flow-the waterfall.
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Our lives are into cycles cast,
They seem to linger while they last,
But are dim dreamings when they're past.
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Undivided Unity!
Thankfully and reverently,
Father, God! we raise to Thee
This memorial pile!
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Under the canopy of holy thought
I turn to Thee; and in the silent awe
Of Thy felt presence, reverently draw
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The days of mortal man
Are vain, and swiftly gone;
Yet virtuous thoughts and deeds
May hallow ev'ry one;
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There's good in all the various changes
That man's mortality befall;
And wheresoe'er the spirit ranges,
Death, great reformer! levels all:
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Short is the reign of summer flow'rs-
O'er fruitful vale or fertile plain
We seek in winter's dreary hours
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In Thy bright tabernacle, God!
Who shall learn and teach Thy will?
And who shall make his blest abode,
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Look around thee-see decay
On her wing of darkness, sweeping
Earth's proud monuments away-
See the muse of history weeping
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