Sonett-Forum

On the consecration of a small chapel

I.

There was a little spot of level ground,
For many an age unmark'd by casual eyes,
Bleak hills afar and sinuous banks around,
And terraced gardens, graduate mound on mound,

With every season's sweet variety.
And there uprose an house devote to God,
As lowly as befits a house of prayer;
Yet large enough to sanctify the sod,

The heaving earth that may conceal a clod,
Which human love may wish to treasure there.
O Lord! methinks to give this spot to Thee

Did hardly need an act of consecration:
I deem the pile no wilful novelty,
But a good purpose - old as Thy creation.


II.

And yet I deem we rightly may rejoice
When the chief shepherd of the many flocks,
That wait the high call of his pastoral voice
On many lawns or yellow pastures choice,

Or crop the turf beneath the sheltering rocks,-
Comes to unite this lone and sever'd fold,
That feed so gently on their native flowers,
With the blest sheep that bled in days of old.

Oh! should we not be thankful to behold
Our shepherd chief in such a fold as ours?
How may the Sabbath utterance of the dell,

With all the churches, make a mighty one,
And with the minster organ's gorgeous swell
The simple psalm combine in unison.