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ON A HIGH PART OF THE COAST OF CUMBERLAND

Easter Sunday, April 7

THE AUTHOR'S SIXTY-THIRD BIRTHDAY

          THE Sun, that seemed so mildly to retire,
          Flung back from distant climes a streaming fire,
          Whose blaze is now subdued to tender gleams,
          Prelude of night's approach with soothing dreams.
          Look round;--of all the clouds not one is moving;
          'Tis the still hour of thinking, feeling, loving.
          Silent, and stedfast as the vaulted sky,
          The boundless plain of waters seems to lie:--
          Comes that low sound from breezes rustling o'er
          The grass-crowned headland that conceals the shore?         10
          No; 'tis the earth-voice of the mighty sea,
          Whispering how meek and gentle he 'can' be!
            Thou Power supreme! who, arming to rebuke
          Offenders, dost put off the gracious look,
          And clothe thyself with terrors like the flood
          Of ocean roused into its fiercest mood,
          Whatever discipline thy Will ordain
          For the brief course that must for me remain;
          Teach me with quick-eared spirit to rejoice
          In admonitions of thy softest voice!                        20
          Whate'er the path these mortal feet may trace,
          Breathe through my soul the blessing of thy grace,
          Glad, through a perfect love, a faith sincere
          Drawn from the wisdom that begins with fear,
          Glad to expand; and, for a season, free
          From finite cares, to rest absorbed in Thee!
                                                              1833.


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