The Home Circle by Ross Martin

Seventh-day Adventist Missionary Society · Oakland, California · May 5, 1881

The Home Circle.

By Ross Martin

LINES TO A CHURCH BELL.

THE morn has broken, O glorious token Of what was spoken long years ago, The grave's dark slumber, that death encumber, Shall burst asunder for weal or woe. And 'tis the warning I hear at dawning, Each Sabbath morning at break of day, As o'er each number I deeply ponder, And often wonder if it doth say— "For prayer—for prayer—'tis time for prayer— 'Tis time for prayer—'tis time for prayer"— Then gently sinking, it sets me thinking, And often linking with by-gone days Each solemn number that wakes from slumber The sheeted phantoms of childhood's ways.

O, star-eyed reason, wait for a season— 'Tis cruel treason to break my spell;— And science 'bids thee, some day you'll guide me Come sit beside me and hear the bell. For Oh, 'tis charming, each Sabbath morning, To hear this warning flung out in air; Aloft now rolling, then sweetly falling, As thus 'twas calling mankind to prayer: "For prayer—for prayer—'tis time for prayer— 'Tis time for prayer—'tis time for prayer"— Till with emotion, like swelling ocean, My heart's devotion with raptures swell; And loving kindness through tears of blindness Still fondly clings to the magic spell.

O, sacred tower, long be thy power E're storm and shower shall end thy days; Till future ages and other sages, On snow-white pages record thy praise; Long, long defend thee, those that attend thee, While I befriend thee in simple song; And future nations and generations Come hushed in silence to hear thy tongue— "For prayer—for prayer—'tis time for prayer— 'Tis time for prayer—'tis time for prayer"— Thus softly tolling and gently rolling, It holds my soul in a magic spell, While with attention and wrapt in suspension, My heart still turns to the chiming bell. —By Ross Martin, Sacramento Bee for 1879.