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worship : and if the voices should be drowned in the grander music of the elements , many there will retire where they can be alone , as I am , with God and the teachers he sends to human hearts . This impulse , if cherished , may lead to knowledge of which men yet dream not ; may stimulate to vigour , of which none , but the supremely favoured , have been yet conscious . Hail , then , thou voice of wisdom , shouting from the deep and echoing from the shore ! Rouse in me all the power that the world hath laid asleep ! Revive in me that which I have already learned , and teach me more ! While I am silent amidst this mighty chorus , breasting the storm as the steadfast rocks , speak , and I will hear !
Ye have gathered around the same kind , friendly hearth , Ye have answered the sounds of each other ' s glad mirth , Ye have cradled and pillowed your heads on one breast , The same gentle music hath lulled you to rest , The same mother blest you ; ye woke to rejoice In the same kindly tones of that mother ' s soft voice .
And years have rolled on—some have left their pure home Whose memory clings round them wherever they roam—Oh ! thus like a spirit , fond dreams of the past , Will haunt us , and float o'er us e'en to the last . Sad thoughts of the loved ones of life ' s early days , A flower-scent , a voice , or an echo may raise .
Once more ye have met—but ye met not in gladness—Ye all met save one ; oh ! that meeting was sadness ! She who nursed you—who loved you—who soothed you in sorrow , Lies calm in that slumber that knoweth no morrow ; — Ye have heard the last blessing a mother may speak—Ye stand in a silence her voice may not break .
Long , long may ye tread in the world ' s giddy round , Bright hopes , and new joys , and fair prospects abound ; But ' midst all the treasures the cold earth can pour , Ye shall pine for the love that can meet you no more . The wreathed ocean-shell for the sea makes its moan , Even so shall ye yearn for that mother ' s kind tone .
But he who hath gone to the bright " father-land , " The loved one , the lost one , the pride of the band ; Oh ! speak not his name with a sorrowing voice , He hath passed to his God , and ' tis yours to rejoice . To the portals of heaven his spirit will come , To meet his blest mother , and welcome her Home . ELLEN LEGH . Kenilworthy November 12 .
Verses . 77
Monthly Repository (1806-1838) and Unitarian Chronicle (1832-1833), Feb. 2, 1831, page 77, in the Nineteenth-Century Serials Edition (2008; 2018) ncse.ac.uk/periodicals/mruc/issues/vm2-ncseproduct2594/page/5/