Page:Scenes and Hymns of Life.pdf/40

28

Even unto death?

Lilian.No, sister, nor yet these.— Too much of dreamy love, of faint regret, Of passionately fond remembrance, breathes In the caressing sweetness of their tones, For one who dies:—They would but woo me back To glowing life with those Arcadian sounds— And vainly, vainly—No! a loftier strain, A deeper music!—Something that may bear The spirit up on slow yet mighty wings, Unsway'd by gusts of earth: something, all fill'd With solemn adoration, tearful prayer.— Sing me that antique strain which once I deem'd Almost too sternly simple, too austere In its grave majesty! I love it now— Now it seems fraught with holiest power, to hush All billows of the soul, e'en like His voice That said of old—"Be still!"—Sing me that strain— "The Saviour's dying hour."