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Poetries In This The Book
- I Home: Friendship
- II Love
- III Sorrow and Consolation IV The Higher Life
- V Nature
- VI Fancy Sentiment
- VII Descriptive: Narrative VIII National Spirit
- IX Tragedy: Humor
- X Poetical Quotations
The time is not long past when the copulative in that title might have suggested to some minds an antithesis, -as acid and alkali, or heat and cold.
That religion could have affiliation with anything so worldly as poetry would have seemed to some pious people a questionable proposition.
There were the Psalms, in the Old Testament, to be sure; and the minister had been heard to allude to them as poetry:
might not that indicate some heretical taint in him, caught, perchance, from the “German neologists” whose influence we were beginning to dread?
It did not seem quite orthodox to describe the Psalms as poems; and when, a little later, someone ventured to speak of the Book of Job as a dramatic poem, there were many who were simply horrified.
Indeed, it was difficult for many good people to consider the Biblical writings as in any sense literature;
they belonged in a category by themselves, and the application to them of the terms by which we describe similar writings in other books appeared to many good men and women a kind of profanation.
This was not, of course, the attitude of educated men and women, but something akin to it affected large numbers of excellent people.
We are well past that period, and the relations of religion and poetry were discussed with no fear of misunderstandings. These relations are close and vital.
Poetry is may now be indebted to religion for its largest and loftiest inspirations, and religion is indebted to poetry for its subtlest and most luminous interpretations.
TE DEUM LAUDAMUS.
We praise thee, O God; we acknowledge thee to be the Lord.
All the earth doth worship thee, the Father everlasting.
To thee all Angels cry aloud; the Heavens, and all the powers therein.
To thee, Cherubim and Seraphim continually do cry,
Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God of Sabaoth;
Heaven and earth are full of the Majesty of thy Glory.
The glorious company of the Apostles praises thee.
The goodly fellowship of the Prophets praises thee.
The noble army of Martyrs praises thee.
The holy Church throughout all the world doth acknowledge thee;
The Father of an infinite Majesty;
Thine adorable, true, and only Son;
Also the Holy Ghost, the Comforter.
Thou art the King of Glory, O Christ.
Thou art the everlasting Son of the Father.
When thou tookest upon thee to deliver man, thou didst humble thyself to be born of a
Virgin.
When thou hadst overcome the sharpness of death, thou didst open the Kingdom of
Heaven to all believers.
Thou sittest at the right hand of God, in the Glory of the Father.
We believe that thou shalt come to be our Judge.
We therefore pray thee, help thy servants, whom thou hast redeemed with thy precious
blood.
Make them to be numbered with thy Saints, in glory everlasting.
O Lord, save thy people and bless thine heritage.
Govern them, and lift them up forever.
Day by day we magnify thee;
And we worship thy Name ever, world without end.
Vouchsafe, O Lord, to keep us this day without sin.
O Lord, have mercy upon us, have mercy upon us.
O Lord, let thy mercy be upon us, as our trust is in thee.
O Lord, in thee have I trusted; let me never be confounded.
FROM “THE SPECTATOR.”
The spacious firmament on high,
With all the blue ethereal sky,
And spangled heavens, a shining frame,
Their great Original proclaim;
The unwearied sun, from day to day,
Does his Creator’s power display,
And published to every land
The work of an Almighty hand.
As soon as the evening shades prevail,
The moon takes up the wondrous tale,
And nightly to the listening earth
Repeats the story of her birth;
While all the stars that round her burn,
And all the planets in their turn,
Confirm the tidings as they roll,
And spread the truth from pole to pole.
What though, in solemn silence, all
Move around the dark terrestrial ball?
What though no real voice or sound
Amid their radiant orbs be found?
In Reason’s ear, they all rejoice,
And utter forth a glorious voice,
Forever singing, as they shine,
“The hand that made us is divine!”
SUNRISE.
As on my bed at dawn, I mused and prayed,
I saw my lattice prankt upon the wall,
The flaunting leaves and flitting birds withal-—
A sunny phantom interlaced with shade;
“Thanks be to Heaven,” in a happy mood I said,
“What sweeter aid my matins could befall
Than this fair glory from the east hath made?
What holy sleights hath God, the Lord of all,
To bid us feel and see! We are not free
To say we see not, for the glory comes
Nightly and daily, like the flowing sea;
His luster pierces through the midnight glooms,
And at prime hours, behold! he follows me
With golden shadows to my secret rooms.”
-CHARLES TENNYSON TURNER
| Writer | – |
| Language | English |
| Pages | 345 |
| Pdf Size | 0.8 MB |
| Category | Poetry |
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