Poems (Chitwood)/An Hour of Peace
AN HOUR OF PEACE.AN EXTRACT.
The fair, the lovely world!—methinks, to-day,There is a brightness in the placid skies,But this sweet hour revealed. I know not whySuch strange and wild emotions rock my headTo tones I never, never heard before.Oh, there are hours when angels take our hands,And lead us through fair valleys where the lightShines like a prism, hours when the cares of earthRoll from our spirits as the sullen mistsOf early morn before the King of Day.So it is now; and my unfettered soul Rises on white wings far above the gloomsOf ebon night, where sometimes we do grope,With no faith arm to lean on. This sweet hour,Life seems so good a blessing, earth the gateHalf opened into Eden. Many a timeMine eyes have looked upon this very scene:The quiet valley, where the meadow larksStart singing upward from the waves of grass,Their light wings moist with dew; the tiny rill,Plashing along the stones; the woodland deep,Whose sweet-lipped leaves keep whispering to the winds;The emerald hills, the snowy village spires,And cottage roof half shadowed o'er with leaves,All form a pleasant picture; oft my eyes,Have grown half dim while gazing on the scene.But never till this hour my heart hath throbb'dWith every pulse a rapture, not till nowHas such pure incense floated like a cloudFrom my heart's altar, as I offered thanksTo the good God that he hath made the worldSo fair a place to tarry, the brief whileThat he hath made us pilgrims going home.