Spring: Wednesday Morning Poem by John Bowring

When Morn peeps o'er the mountain's height,
And the last star has left the sky,
And dews disperse at waking light,
And Earth puts on her robes of joy,
And flowers look out, and woods are gay
With birds and breezes-O, 'tis meet
To join the universal lay,
And Nature's chorus to repeat;
To lead the aspiring soul to Him,
Whose is the darkness, whose the day-
Who kindled first the sunny beam;
Pour'd forth the wand'ring milky way;
Fill'd all heaven's lamps with ether; spread
The canopy above-whose hand
The valleys scoop'd-the mountains weigh'd-
Fathom'd the ocean-rear'd the land,
And crowded all with life and bliss.
See life and bliss around us glowing!
Wherever space or being is,
The cup of joy is full and flowing.


Yes! Nature is a splendid show,
Where an attentive mind may hear
Music in all the winds that blow,-
And see a silent worshipper
In every flower, on every tree,
In every vale, on every hill-
Perceive a voice of melody
In waving grass or whispering rill;
And catch a soft but solemn sound
Of worship from the smallest fly,
The cricket chirping on the ground,
The trembling leaf that hangs on high.


Proud, scornful man! thy soaring wing
Would hurry tow'rds Infinity;
And yet the vilest, meanest thing
Is too sublime, too deep for thee;
And all thy vain imagining
Lost in the smallest speck we see.
It must be so-for He, even He
Who worlds created, form'd the worm-
He pours the dew, who fill'd the sea-
Breathes from the flower, who rules the storm:
Him we may worship-not conceive;
See not and hear not-but adore:
Bow in the dust-obey-believe-
Utter His name-and know no more.


His throne is o'er the highest star
That wanders heaven's blue vault along;
He drives unseen His glorious car
A million viewless worlds among.
A thousand-aye! ten thousand suns
Are darkness in His piercing eye!
Thy life runs on-and while it runs,
Vainly to know Him dost thou try:
That is a bliss for realms on high,
When thou shalt breathe diviner air,
And drink of heaven's felicity;
For knowledge knows no boundary
there
.


O, if joy be here thy doom,
Give it anchorage above;
If thy path be dark with gloom,
Steal a ray from heavenly love.
Source of joy!-my Friend! my Father!
In Thy presence let me be,-
Here the flowers of Virtue gather,
Blooming for eternity.