Written on Board the Medway, in the South Seas, in Very Stormy
Weather.
“WHERE is the God whom I adore?”
Abram of old in Haran cried,
And a sage skilled in Sabian* lore,
To his fond question thus replied:
“Go, seek him in yon starry height,
Amid the glories of the night.”
Silent the Patriarch ascends
A mountain to enquire and pray,
When the grey twilight slowly blends
The shades of evening with the day;
Hopeful to Heaven he turns his eyes,
And sees the Evening-Star arise.
“This is the God my soul adores,”
The joyful Patriarch exclaims,
“See how he marshals all the stars,
And nightly reillumes their flames!
‘Tis glorious thus for man to see
His God! bright Star! I worship thee!”
But as he gazed the silver Moon
Emerging chased the stars away;
And towering in the Night’s high noon,
Renewed the splendour of the day:
The Patriarch wept, I ween, to see
The God he worshipped forced to flee.
“Alas!” he cried, “my breast I smite!
The god I chose was weak as I.
My God can ne’er be put to flight;
He reigns supreme o’er earth and sky.
All glorious Moon, sure thou art he!
Henceforth I worship only thee!”
But soon the silver Moon’s bright beam
Grew fainter in the azure sky;
And soon her darkening disk grew dim,
As if her hour were come to die.
The Patriarch filled with sudden fear
Thought that the day of doom was near.
“Alas!” he cried, “thou canst not be
My God, bright Moon, for he remains
Unchanged to all eternity,
And never waxes, no! nor wanes.
The God I praise with heart and lips
Knows neither waning nor eclipse.”
Then joyful in the eastern skies,
Anon he sees the Orb of Day
Crowned with refulgent beams arise,
And chase the shades of night away.
“Thou art my God, bright Sun,” he cries,
Accept thy servant’s sacrifice.”
But when the Sun sinks in the west,
And darkness shrouds the world again,
Again the Patriarch smites his breast
And cries, “Alas! my thoughts were vain;
My God, I have not found thee yet,
For thou canst neither rise nor set.”
Now sorrowing as he seeks his home,
An Angel of the Lord appears;
“Abram,” he cries, “from God I come,
To solve thy doubts and calm thy fears.
Nay! wherefore dost thou worship me?
I am a creature, just like thee.
“Invisible to mortal eyes.
Thy God inhabits boundless space;
His throne is in the lofty skies,
His word the universe obeys;
O and he is more glorious far,
Than Sun or Moon or Evening-Star!
“His power created and sustains
The host of heaven, the verdant earth;
And to their countless tribes ordains
Their various being and their birth.
In wisdom, goodness, power supreme,
What canst thou then compare with him?
“But if thine anxious soul desires
To learn the worship he demands;
Know this, O man, thy God requires
A contrite heart and holy hands.
Still be thy prayers conjoined with these;
So shall thy latter end be peace.”
Thus speaks the Seraph, and ascends,
In a bright cloud from Abram’s sight;
And the good Patriarch homeward bends,
While his heart thrills with pure delight;
And oft he prays, “O teach thou me,
Henceforth, my God, to worship thee.”
(John Dunmore Lang)
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