Psalm 100: 1-2 : Juig tot eer van die Here, almal op aarde! Dien die Here met blydskap! Kom voor Hom met gejubel!

Monday, October 4, 2010

A Forest Hymn

( poem by William Cullen Bryant )

The groves were God's first temples.
Ere man learned
To hew the shaft, and lay the architrave,
And spread the roof above them,---ere he framed
The lofty vault, to gather and roll back
The sound of anthems; in the darkling wood,
Amidst the cool and silence, he knelt down,
And offered to the Mightiest solemn thanks
And supplication. For his simple heart
Might not resist the sacred influences,
Which, from the stilly twilight of the place,
And from the gray old trunks that high in heaven
Mingled their mossy boughs, and from the sound
Of the invisible breath that swayed at once
All their green tops, stole over him, and bowed
His spirit with the thought of boundless power
And inaccessible majesty. (Read on under comments)

1 comment:

  1. Ah, why
    Should we, in the world's riper years, neglect
    God's ancient sanctuaries, and adore
    Only among the crowd, and under roofs,
    That our frail hands have raised? Let me, at least,
    Here, in the shadow of this aged wood,
    Offer one hymn---thrice happy, if it find
    Acceptance in His ear.
    Father, thy hand
    Hath reared these venerable columns, thou
    Didst weave this verdant roof. Thou didst look down
    Upon the naked earth, and, forthwith, rose
    All these fair ranks of trees. They, in thy sun,
    Budded, and shook their green leaves in the breeze,
    And shot towards heaven. The century-living crow,
    Whose birth was in their tops, grew old and died
    Among their branches, till, at last, they stood,
    As now they stand, massy, and tall, and dark,
    Fit shrine for humble worshipper to hold
    Communion with his Maker.

    (The rest can be read here: