  King of the Golden Orient:—lo! he comes And mounts, magnificent, his burning throne; Smiling in glory o’er the world of waters, Whose joyous waves leap welcome to his coming. See how the streaming rays, his almoners, Fling forth his largesses in flashing brilliants. Which the waves catch, and toss from crest to crest In dancing rapture! ’Tis a glorious sight To see a king right welcome to his subjects; To hear the voice of gladness universal Greeting his royal smile. Not sea alone, But ocean, earth, and sky join look and voice Where little cloudlets cluster, as they hang In modest diffidence upon the outskirts Of the vast audience-throng: they too are flushing Bright with the universal joy:—and hark! Breezes are striking their Æolian harps Among the woods that wave along the hills; While the deep voices of the surge, far pealing, Thunder their ceaseless anthem to his praise. Brief, as befitting, is the monarch’s audience; For who may look upon the King of light With eye unblenching? Now in massy folds, The darkening curtains of his cloud pavilion Gather around him;—and though dazzling still Their broad gold fringes wave, the weak eye rests From his transpiercing glance of unveiled glory. Hail! glorious image of the King of Kings! Seen or unseen, thou givest light, and life, And joy, and beauty to revolving worlds That circle round thy throne. Centre of power! Thy mystery of might upholds, sustains, And governs as the Delegate of God, Their measured harmony of ceaseless motion; Reining their fleetness with “an arm of strength” Felt and obeyed in the far depths of space, Where roll remotest planets round their spheres In twilight solitude, unseen, unknown. Rev. H. H. Dugmore. [Image of decorative bar not available.] |
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