I LOOK above—no cloud on high
Veils the deep azure of the sky;
All is serene, and cool, and clear,
And tranquil glory triumphs here!
Yon moon is full— her lustre pure,
Walks radiant through the vast obscure;
And overbears, with splendor bright,
Each feebly glimmering star of night.
Soft is the light she sheds abroad,
The mellow beam sleeps on the road;
While wood, and stream, and hill, and vale,
Rise up beneath her influence pale.
Soft blows the breeze—the air is cool—
The stillness soothes to peace the soul;
At leisure with my friends I walk,
And of surrounding objects talk.
I listen, but I hear no sound,
Save the lone cricket’s chirp around;
One now might hear his very breath
Amid this mimic hush of death!
How can I otherwise than draw,
In such a scene, the breath of awe?
How can my heart refuse to feel
A pensive sweetness o’er it steal;
I envy not the man who sees.
Unmoved, such solemn scenes as these;
The mind which, bound in atheist thrall,
Owns not the God that made them all.
I see His hand—I feel His power—
Bow down, my soul, and Him adore!
And let this night begin with thee
The worship of eternity!
A few more moments roll in haste,
And Time will be forever past!
A day will dawn—the night be o’er—
A sun shall rise, to set no more!
by John Newton Brown
July 31, 1821.