ABSTRACT
87, Lines. Lord of the Northern feilds of Heaven May Light like thine to me be given While I thy praises sing Let sordid flatterers cringe and wait Before the rich mans open gate And bow beneath the glare of state And there their offerings bring But on some rocks tremendous steep High hanging oer the hoary deep Let me be seated lone And while the tempests round me fly Howling across a midnight sky Behold thee shining bright and high And silent and alone Star of the pole amid the sea How many now may look on thee And bless thy light divine How often doth the sailor pray When tossed by tempests far astray That thou wouldst guide his wandering way And on his vessel shine How often from the abyss of air Hast thou heard the sailors prayer —Lo yon tall vessel tabling amid the storm —But vainly struggling ‘gainst his giant arm With shattered masts with sails all rent and riven Tossed from the gulphs beneath to the black clouds of heaven Lo! the night increasing shrouds the sky While upward burst the waves on high Oer unseen rocks they rage and roar Whittling with surf the shaken shore High oer the ships tall bows they break away And fill the air with showers of spray Black clouds vast billows drive along And as they drive she hurries on Now on the secret quicksands dashed And Girdled round with foam Then from her rocky harbour washed And hurled upon the main mid its huge waves to roam Then then how droops the s[a]ilors soul Hopless he gazes toward the pole For tossing on an unknown sea How may he hope to look on thee But Lo the clouds all rent and riven Have to the winds a passage given Forth breaks upon his upward sight The dark blue concave of the night Its thousand stars all fixed on high And twinkling in the silent sky High throned in Heaven he sees thee shine Well know[n] to him thy Light divine He sees thee and adores Unheeded now may rage the sea Secure in thy directing ray He leams to avoid the rocky way And seek his native shores But not alone to him Who doth a wanderer oct the Ocean roam Wilt thou bestow thy beam And guide him toward his home The Traveller oer the desert drear Gazes on thee his heart to cheer Though waste on waste expands before Nor can his eye a bound explore Though far behind his native valley lies Though unknown scenes his wildered sight surprise Yet as he folds his mantle fast To guard him from the bitter blast Swept from the unclement sky Unmindful of the gathering night Upward to thee he strains his sight Where he beholds thee shining bright His Guardian in the sky Blesser of Mortals! Glorious Guide Nor turning ever from thy course aside Eternal pilot while Time passes by While Earthly guides decay and die Thou holdst thy throne Fixed and alone In the vast concave of the nightly sky Kingdoms and states may droop and fail; Not ever still abide The Mighty moon may wax and wane But thou dost silent there remain An everlasting guide!
