Retired Hours Poem by Maria Frances Cecilia Cowper

YE gentle days that once were mine,
In every charm of life array'd,
No more awaken my regret,
No more my settled peace invade.

Fresh hope of permanent delight
My meditating thoughts pursue;
Nor can the charms of time or sense
Obscure the bright, the heavenly view.

My convert heart delights to muse
On fallen man's deliv'rance found,
The sacrifice, the cleansing blood,
That for his bleeding guilt aton'd:

Of man's estate in Paradise,
Of endless mercy's wide display,
Of cov'nant love, and Gospel grace,
That point to Heaven th' unerring way:

Such themes as these, in early years,
My secret hours have oft inspir'd,
My infant hands with wonder rais'd,
My infant heart with rapture fir'd.

Witness, ye saints invisible,
Ye guests unseen, whose guardian care
Preserves the soul from threat'ning ill,
And wafts to Heaven the pious tear.

Witness for ye have oft beheld
How (for superior joys design'd),
My humble steps retirement sought,
Leaving the busy world behind:

How, in the sweet sequester'd shade,
Where 's fair meand'ring flood
Pours its rich streams around the plains,
And gurgles near the favourite wood;

At morn, at noon, at dewy eve,
Oft by the moon's soft-glancing ray,
In search of Wisdom's rare delights
My feet unwearied lov'd to stray.

And are those transitory hours,
So sweet to my remembrance, gone?
Sunk in the deep abyss of time,
Beyond the reach of fancy flown?

Ye swift-wing'd messengers, farewell,
And all the pleasures that ye gave;
Sweet earnest of unfading joys
That wait my soul beyond the grave.

Loos'd from the vexing world below,
Oh! when shall I to these attain?
When to that blissful region go,
That yields no sorrow, tear, or pain?

There shall my disencumber'd soul
Distinctly view the grand design
Of each mysterious providence,
The gracious plan of love divine.

How dim soe'er the eye of sense,
How faint soe'er each mental power,
There we shall trace Omniscience,
And all his sov'reign will explore;

Companioning with angels bright,
Perhaps with kindred spirits join'd,
Adore the self-existent God,
That brought salvation to mankind.

Delightful Theme of endless bliss!
How little know the world of thee!
Only the pilgrim hasting on,
And panting for eternity.

He joyful views, with steady eye,
Where faithful labourers abide;
Beholds the glittering gates on high,
On golden hinges opening wide.

There all his thoughts and wishes tend,
Anxious he marks the heavenly road,
Compassionates the senseless world,
And languishesto be with God;

To see the 'very Paschal Lamb,'
In everlasting bliss enthron'd,
And mingle with those blessed saints,
That live with endless glory crown'd.

Oh! how with 'ever-tuned harps'
They sing 'the Lamb's mysterious song!'
Myriads of cherubs catch the sound,
Echoing from each celestial tongue.

Celestial tongues alone can reach
The height of that celestial strain,
Their tongues alone who see his face,
And with the Lamb for ever reign.

Unwearied through eternity,
Their pleasing toil they still pursue,
And spread around th' ethereal space
The glorious theme, for ever new.