EN 2112 The Harp at Nature’s Advent Strung
Isa.6.3
Versi Version 1
1
The harp at Nature’s advent strung
Has never ceased to play;
The song the stars of morning sung
Has never died away.
2
And prayer is made, and praise is giv’n,
By all things near and far;
The ocean looketh up to Heav’n,
And mirrors every star.
3
Its waves are kneeling on the strand,
As kneels the human knee,
Their white locks bowing to the sand,
The priesthood of the sea!
4
They pour their glittering treasures forth,
Their gifts of pearl they bring,
And all the listening hills of earth
Take up the song they sing.
5
The green earth sends its incense up
From many a mountain shrine;
From folded leaf and dewy cup
She pours her sacred wine.
6
The mists above the morning rills
Rise white as wings of prayer;
The altar-curtains of the hills
Are sunset’s purple air.
7
The winds with hymns of praise are loud,
Or low with sobs of pain—
The thunder-organ of the cloud,
The dropping tears of rain.
8
With drooping head and branches crossed
The twilight forest grieves,
Or speaks with tongues of Pentecost
From all its sunlit leaves.
9
The blue sky is the temple’s arch,
Its transept earth and air,
The music of its starry march
The chorus of a prayer.
10
So Nature keeps the reverent frame
With which her years began,
And all her signs and voices shame
The prayerless heart of man.

Last updated: 2015-05-25
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