Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, HYMN OF THE STAR-SOULED, by RICHARD SOLOMON GEDNEY


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

HYMN OF THE STAR-SOULED, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: O lord! Who art perfection's splendour
Last Line: That emanates from thee!—the one divine!
Subject(s): Religion; Soul; Theology


O LORD! who art perfection's splendour,
We bow before Thy throne of cloud and fire;
To Thee, whose footstool is the universe, we render
The joy and worship that our hearts inspire!
As leap the rills from the eternal mountains,
As the streams seek the ever-flowing sea,
As runs the fawn to the bright, cooling fountains,
So turn our fainting spirits still to Thee!
The myriad stars on which Thy thrones are founded,
And the sun's daily songs Thy glories tell!
Thou gavest the moon her seasons; to the ocean
Thou didst assign the bounds that chain its might!
Strength to the thunders, to the lightnings motion,
Flowers to the earth, and to the planets light!
At Thy command the lordly sun upriseth,
Quick at Thy bidding the fierce storms grow tame!
Thou speakest—an earthquake follows—death chastiseth
The impious scoffers of Thine hallowed name!
Yet, gently as a hen her young will gather
Beneath her folding wings of love and care,
Dost Thou, the Ancient and All-loving Father,
Thy sinning children in Thy mercy spare.
How shall our faltering tongues declare Thy praises?
How shall we hymn the gladness of Thy ways?
Language and music yield not tones and phrases
Worthy of Thee—Thou Ancient One of Days!
Read in our inmost souls the unbounded treasure
Of faith, obedience, reverence, love, and awe;
And make our duty form our greatest pleasure,
Whilst humbly walking in Thy Holy Law!
O Lord! thou art our Lord; behold, before Thee
The darkness and the elements bow down;
The lightnings lick Thy footstool and adore Thee,—
The whirlwinds shudder in Thine awful gloom.
Yet, girt with power unbounded and eternal,
Thou dost not spurn the humblest, lowliest rite;
But seest with equal eyes of love paternal
The monarch's offering and the widow's mite!
The kings and lords of earth, whose proud dominion
Spreads over empires, oceans, nations vast,
Are weak against Thee, as is a sparrow's pinion
Against the fierce and headlong thunder-blast!
Yet breathes no slave of theirs—the feeblest, weakest,
And most despised, who shares not in Thy love;
There is no outrage practised on the meekest,
That arms not heavenly vengeance from above!
Lord! 'tis for thy justice that we bless Thee!
For this we bend in love before Thy throne;
For this, that all created things confess Thee
The Sovereign Power, in earth and heaven, alone!
Smile on Thy sons, that, clothed in Thy protection,
Before Thy heavenly glance we still may shine;
Secure from evil in the pure affection
That emanates from THEE!—THE ONE DIVINE!





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