A Forest Hymn

　



THE GROVES were God's first temples. Ere man learned



To hew the shaft and lay the architrave



And spread the roof above them-ere he framed



The lofty vault to gather and roll back



The sound of anthems; in the darkling wood 5



Amidst the cool and silence he knelt down



And offered to the Mightiest solemn thanks



And supplication. For his simple heart



Might not resist the sacred influences



Which from the stilly twilight of the place 10



And from the gray old trunks that high in heaven



Mingled their mossy boughs and from the sound



Of the invisible breath that swayed at once



All their green tops stole over him and bowed



His spirit with the thought of boundless power 15



And inaccessible majesty. Ah why



Should we in the world's riper years neglect



God's ancient sanctuaries and adore



Only among the crowd and under roofs



That our frail hands have raised? Let me at least 20



Here in the shadow of this aged wood



Offer one hymn-thrice happy if it find



Acceptance in His ear.



Father thy hand



Hath reared these venerable columns thou 25



Didst weave this verdant roof. Thou didst look down



Upon the naked earth and forthwith rose



All these fair ranks of trees. They in thy sun



Budded and shook their green leaves in thy breeze



And shot towards heaven. The century-living crow 30



Whose birth was in their tops grew old and died



Among their branches till at last they stood



As now they stand massy and tall and dark



Fit shrine for humble worshipper to hold



Communion with his Maker. These dim vaults 35



These winding aisles of human pomp or pride



Report not. No fantastic carvings show



The boast of our vain race to change the form



Of thy fair works. But thou art here-thou fill'st



The solitude. Thou art in the soft winds 40



That run along the summit of these trees



In music; thou art in the cooler breath



That from the inmost darkness of the place



Comes scarcely felt; the barky trunks the ground



The fresh moist ground are all instinct with thee. 45



Here is continual worship;-Nature here



In the tranquillity that thou dost love



Enjoys thy presence. Noiselessly around



From perch to perch the solitary bird



Passes; and yon clear spring that midst its herbs 50



Wells softly forth and wandering steeps the roots



Of half the mighty forest tells no tale



Of all the good it does. Thou hast not left



Thyself without a witness in these shades



Of thy perfections. Grandeur strength and grace 55



Are here to speak of thee. This mighty oak -



By whose immovable stem I stand and seem



Almost annihilated-not a prince



In all that proud old world beyond the deep



E'er wore his crown as loftily as he 60



Wears the green coronal of leaves with which



Thy hand has graced him. Nestled at his root



Is beauty such as blooms not in the glare



Of the broad sun. That delicate forest flower



With scented breath and look so like a smile 65



Seems as it issues from the shapeless mould



An emanation of the indwelling Life



A visible token of the upholding Love



That are the soul of this great universe.



My heart is awed within me when I think 70



Of the great miracle that still goes on



In silence round me-the perpetual work



Of thy creation finished yet renewed



Forever. Written on thy works I read



The lesson of thy own eternity. 75



Lo! all grow old and die-but see again



How on the faltering footsteps of decay



Youth presses -ever-gay and beautiful youth



In all its beautiful forms. These lofty trees



Wave not less proudly that their ancestors 80



Moulder beneath them. O there is not lost



One of earth's charms: upon her bosom yet



After the flight of untold centuries



The freshness of her far beginning lies



And yet shall lie. Life mocks the idle hate 85



Of his arch-enemy Death-yea seats himself



Upon the tyrant's throne-the sepulchre



And of the triumphs of his ghastly foe



Makes his own nourishment. For he came forth



From thine own bosom and shall have no end. 90



There have been holy men who hid themselves



Deep in the woody wilderness and gave



Their lives to thought and prayer till they outlived



The generation born with them nor seemed



Less aged than the hoary trees and rocks 95



Around them;-and there have been holy men



Who deemed it were not well to pass life thus.



But let me often to these solitudes



Retire and in thy presence reassure



My feeble virtue. Here its enemies 100



The passions at thy plainer footsteps shrink



And tremble and are still. O God! when thou



Dost scare the world with tempests set on fire



The heavens with falling thunderbolts or fill



With all the waters of the firmament 105



The swift dark whirlwind that uproots the woods



And drowns the villages; when at thy call



Uprises the great deep and throws himself



Upon the continent and overwhelms



Its cities-who forgets not at the sight 110



Of these tremendous tokens of thy power



His pride and lays his strifes and follies by?



O from these sterner aspects of thy face



Spare me and mine nor let us need the wrath



Of the mad unchainèd elements to teach 115



Who rules them. Be it ours to meditate



In these calm shades thy milder majesty



And to the beautiful order of thy works



Learn to conform the order of our lives.
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