Page:The Excursion, Wordsworth, 1814.djvu/447

421 They hear my lips present their sacrifice—

They know if I be silent, morn or even:

For, though in whispers speaking, the full heart

Will find a vent; and Thought is praise to Him,

Audible praise, to Thee, Omniscient Mind,

From Whom all gifts descend, all blessings flow!"

This Vesper service closed, without delay,

From that exalted station, to the plain

Descending, we pursued our homeward course,

In mute composure, o'er the shadowy lake,

Beneath a faded sky. No trace remained

Of those celestial splendors; grey the vault,

Pure, cloudless ether; and the Star of Eve

Was wanting;—but inferior Lights appeared

Faintly, too faint almost for sight; and some

Above the darkened hills stood boldly forth

In twinkling lustre, ere the Boat attained

Her mooring-place;—where, to the sheltering tree

Our youthful Voyagers bound fast her prow,

With prompt yet careful hands. This done, we paced

The dewy fields; but ere the Vicar's door