John Bowring Poems

There was a day in ancient time
(It took its name from the bright Sun
That beams upon the orient clime),
When in the ripened corn-fields One
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On light beams flowing from above
Man's course of mortal being runs;
And with the loadstone of His love
The Eternal Sire attracts His sons.
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Rouse thee, O my spirit, rouse thee,
Unto God thy offerings bring;
Sing His name, for He allows thee
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Have ye not seen? have ye not heard?
And hath it not been told to you?
'From the beginning,' that the Lord
Will strengthen, will uphold you?
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Round us, o'er us, is there aught
Which can fill our highest thought;
Aught which may deserve to be
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Lead us with Thy gentle sway,
As a willing child is led;
Speed us on our forward way,
As a pilgrim, Lord! is sped;
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Long had the darkness of ages surrounded
Earth and its sons, when the day-star on high
Broke from the mists, and with glory unbounded
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While through life's tangled paths you rove,
Watch every onward footstep duly;
And if there's little life to love,
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Pure and undefiled religion,
In our God and Father's sight,
Is, to pour on helpless orphans
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O there are hours so dark and dull,
That nought of earthly light can cheer;
Hours full of fear-and sorrowful-
When the worn spirit has no ear
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