Charms of the Harp of That Shepherd Boy
By Clara Edna Rosencrans
Such wondrous music fell from tuneful strings
When the young shepherd played before the king—
Such holy, thrilling music, that anear
The shining angels drew, on hovering wing;
The evil angels, full of deadly blight,
Fell backward to their dread abodes of night. Such holy spell came o'er the royal heart—
Such gentle impulse, and such kindly mood—
His spirit grew like to a little child's,
The evil spirits could no more intrude.
Within the court was life and love and joy,
Wrought by the music of a shepherd boy. And as to-day we hear the wondrous strains
Wrought in the strings of that same tuneful lyre,
We seem again to feel their presence near,
To hear the music of that heavenly choir.
O'er our warm hearts there throbs the selfsame joy
Saul felt while listening to the shepherd boy. The rich, deep chords have never lost their spell;
And wondrous love has kept the lyre, still,
That, while the shepherd watched his father's sheep,
Rang out its music over plain and hill.
To saddened hearts it still can gladness bring,
And still we hear the gentle shepherd sing. Still has it power to quell the mighty tides
Of sin and evil in our human hearts.
Still at its music loud, or soft and low,
All kindly impulse into being starts.
A harp of widest range, thou tuneful lyre,
What thoughts, what hopes, what joys, thy notes inspire! And listening to thy voice, thou shepherd-king,
Our hearts leap forward with a wondrous joy.
We think upon the time when thou shalt sing,
Thy skilful fingers on the strings employ,
And we shall hear that harp forevermore,
Join in the music of the eternal shore.