The Voice of God

Amidst the thrilling leaves, Thy voice
At evening’s fall drew near;
Father! and did not man rejoice
That blessed sound to hear?

Did not his heart within him burn,
Touch’d by the solemn tone?
Not so!--for, never to return,
Its purity was gone.

Therefore, midst holy stream and bower,
His spirit shook with dread,
And call’d the cedars, in that hour,
To veil his conscious head.

Oh! in each wind, each fountain-flow,
Each whisper of the shade,
Grant me, my God! thy voice to know,
And not to be afraid!