The South Aisle: The Creed IV

Why dwells the lover on the glance
Of some endeared countenance?
At each remembrance in him stirs
A man of strength, oft as recurs
Thought upon thought, a link remains,
Until the soul is found in chains.

What binds the exile to his home ?
Regretful memories, that come
With images that love to dwell
By some known tree or native well.

What weds the traitorous soul to gold ?
Cares which returning manifold
At morn and eve, grow on the soul,
And thence shut out the mighty whole,
Heaven's heights and everlasting goal.

What lit in thee the lamp of love,
Great Saint of Patmos ? Thoughts above
Ever conversing with the Word,
In cherish'd memory seen and heard.
Thine eagle eye was ever bent
Gazing upon the firmament,
Till on thee burst th' ethereal world,
Armies of God with signs unfurl'd.
And thou wast seen 'mong men to be
The o'erflowing fount of charity.

Thus Faith, her torch-light to repair,
Will oft return, and linger there,
Where Truth, unfolding her deep creed,
Opens the Heavens to meet our need,
And shews lights gleaming evermore,
On margin of th' eternal shore.

How shall I thank Thy Majesty,
That giv'st to know ourselves, and Thee ; —
The mercies which with Thee abide,
The littleness of all beside ; —
Not in the cloud spread forth above,

Not in the light on Aaron's breast,
But in this mantle of Thy love,

Which on each earthly scene doth rest !