Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, SABBATH REMINISCENCES, by MRS. JOHN GRAY


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

SABBATH REMINISCENCES, by                    
First Line: I remember, I remember, when sabbath morning rose
Last Line: From heaven descending to the earth, led back from earth to heaven!
Alternate Author Name(s): Lewers, Miss
Subject(s): Public Worship; Sabbath; Church Attendance; Sunday


I REMEMBER, I remember, when Sabbath morning rose,
We changed, for garments neat and clean, our soiled and week-day clothes;
And yet no gaud nor finery, no brooch nor jewel rare,
But hands and faces polish'd bright, and smoothly-parted hair
'T was not the decking of the head, my father used to say,
But careful clothing of the heart, that graced that holy day;
'T was not the honnet nor the dress; -- and I believed it true,
But those were very simple times, and I was simple too.

I remember, I remember, the parlour where we met;
Its paper'd walls, its polish'd floor, and mantel black as jet,
'T was there we raised the morning hymn, melodious, sweet and clear,
And join'd in prayer with that loved voice which we no more may hear.
Our morning sacrifice thus made, then to the house of God,
How solemnly, and silently, and cheerfully we trod!
I see e'en now its low-thatch'd roof, its floor of trodden clay
And our old Pastor's time-worn face, and wig of silver gray.

I remember, I remember, how hush'd and mute we were,
While he led our spirits up to God, in heartfelt, melting prayer;
To grace his action or his voice no studied charm was lent,
Pure, fervent, glowing from the heart, so to the heart it went.
Then came the sermon long and quaint, but full of gospel truth, --
Ah me! I was no judge of that, for I was then a youth;
But I have heard my father say, and well my father knew,
In it was meat for full-grown men, and milk for children too.

I remember, I remember, as 't were but yesterday,
The Psalms in Rouse's version sung, a rude but lovely lay;
Nor yet, though fashion's hand has tried to train my wayward ear,
Can I find aught in modern verse so holy or so dear!
And well do I remember too our old precentor's face,
As he read out and sung the line with patriarchal grace;
Though rudely rustic was the sound, I'm sure that God was praised,
When David's words to David's tune, five hundred voices raised.

I remember, I remember, the morning sermon done,
And hour of intermission come, we wander'd in the sun; --
How hoary farmers sat them down upon the daisy sod,
And talk'd of bounteous nature's stores, and nature's bounteous God;
And matrons talk'd, as matrons will, of sickness and of health
Of births, and deaths, and marriages, of poverty and wealth
And youths and maidens stole apart, within the shady grove,
And whisper'd 'neath its spreading boughs, perchance some tale of love.

I remember, I remember, how to the church-yard lone
I've stolen away, and sat me down beside the rude gravestone,
Or read the names of those who slept beneath the clay-cold clod,
And thought of spirits glittering bright before the throne of God;
Or where the little rivulet danced sportively and bright,
Receiving on its limpid breast the sun's meridian light,
I've wander'd forth, and thought if hearts were pure like this sweet stream,
How fair to heaven they might reflect heaven's uncreated beam

I remember, I remember, the second sermon o'er,
We turn'd our faces once again to our paternal door;
And round the well-fill'd, ample board, sat no reluctant guest,
For exercise gave appetite, and loved ones shared the feast.
Then ere the sunset hour arrived, as we were wont to do,
The Catechism's well-conn'd page, we said it through and through,
And childhood's faltering tongue was heard to lisp the holy word,
And older voices read aloud the message of the Lord.

Away back in those days of yore, perhaps the fault was mine,
I used to think the Sabbath-day, dear Lord, was wholly thine;
When it behoved to keep the heart, and bridle fast the tongue,
But those were very simple times, and I was very young; --
The world has grown much older since those sun-bright Sab bath days,
The world has grown much older since, and she has changed her ways;
Some say that she has wiser grown, - ah me! it may be true,
As wisdom comes by length of days -- but so does dotage too.

Oh! happy, happy days of youth, how beautiful, how fair,
To memory's retrospective eye, your trodden pathways are!
The thorns forgot, remember'd still the fragrance and the flowers,
The loved companions of my youth, and sunny Sabbath hours!
And onward, onward, onward still successive Sabbaths come,
As guides to lead us on the road to our eternal home,
Or like the vision'd ladder once to slumbering Jacob given,
From heaven descending to the earth, led back from earth to heaven!





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