Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, TO A SCEPTIC, by MARY CROSS


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

TO A SCEPTIC, by                    
First Line: In the silence and calm of the night-time
Last Line: And know not in vain did he bleed.
Subject(s): Doubt; Religion; Skepticism; Theology


IN the silence and calm of the night-time,
When the stars shine serenely above,
And softly to earth, in the moonlight,
The wind breathes its whispers of love,
I gaze from my window, e'er watching
The white moonbeams float on the sea;
Is it strange that thus lonely and pensive,
My spirit is yearning for thee?

I think of thy voice, and its music
Still lingers, though faint, in mine ear;
I think of thy face and its beauty,
And fancy that yet thou art near.
Not lost! thou art mine and forever
In the joys I even may share;
There's a chain that yet binds us together;
Its links are of gold -- for 'tis prayer.

Then the Sceptic's hand blots out the picture;
He tells me I dream and I rave;
Oblivion alone can await us;
No Heaven but only a grave!
His soul can know naught of the comfort,
Hope breathes in her heart-stirring words,
The harp of his mind is left silent,
No angel-hand sweepeth its chords.

Alas! his is not the sweet doctrine
Taught by the Saviour who came;
Strange that His teaching existeth --
That wisdom still bows at His name --
When a mind such as yours is, O Sceptic,
Sees only a fable, a myth,
And preaches its own wondrous doctrine,
That everything closes with death.

Well, you may some time awaken,
And cease in the darkness to roam;
Your heart may say in repentance,
"O, Father! thy child has come home!"
There is hope e'en for you, O Sceptic,
As you lean for support on a reed;
I look to that figure on Calv'ry,
And know not in vain did He bleed.





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