THE BIBLE by American Messenger

International Tract and Missionary Society · Oakland, California · Feb 14, 1884

THE BIBLE.

By American Messenger

Poised between earth and heaven, Is swept by angels' wings And yet so low it swings, A little child may touch its secret spring.

All the glad songs of earth, or air, or sky, Wake not the joyful strain, Or give such sweet refrain, To soothe an aching heart or bed of pain.

The poet sweeps afar on fancy's wing; But here our thoughts may rise Beyond ethereal skies, Still on, where nature faints and dies.

Towering where earthly wisdom cannot reach; And yet so simply clear Sublimer truths appear, The wayf'ring with confidence draw near.

There may be gathered with a skillful hand, The fairest things of earth, But oh! their paler birth Stamps them forever with a meaner worth.

Nations and kingdoms utter their behest. Their voice, though small and still, Softer than a murmuring rill, Can sway with reedier might the human will.

Love born of earth may shroud itself in tears; But this love never drew A veil of sabler hue, But what some promise sweet might struggle through.

Afar its healing flows, yet oh, how near! How wide yet deep within, Covering all space of sin, Along the steeps where human steps have been.

—American Messenger.