star

The song of Zacharias.

Lk. 1:68ff; John 1:29,32.

Now be the God of Isr'el blessed,
Who makes his truth appear;
His mighty hand fulfils his word,
And all the oaths he sware.

Now he bedews old David's root
With blessings from the skies;
He makes the Branch of Promise grow,
The promised Horn arise.

[John was the prophet of the Lord,
To go before his face;
The herald which our Savior God
Sent to prepare his ways.

He makes the great salvation known,

The deity and humanity of Christ.

John 1:1,3,14; Col. 1:16.

Ere the blue heav'ns were stretched abroad,
From everlasting was the Word:
With God he was; the Word was God,
And must divinely be adored.

By his own power were all things made;
By him supported all things stand;
He is the whole creation's head,
And angels fly at his command.

Ere sin was born, or Satan fell,
He led the host of morning stars:
Thy generation who can tell,
Or count the numbers of thy years?

The Divine Perfections.

Great God! thy glories shall employ
My holy fear, my humble joy;
My lips in songs of honor bring
Their tribute to th' eternal King.

[Earth, and the stars, and worlds unknown,
Depend precarious on his throne;
All nature hangs upon his word,
And grace and glory own their Lord.]

[His sovereign power what mortal knows?
If be command, who dares oppose?
With strength he girds himself around,
And treads the rebels to the ground.]

[Who shall pretend to teach him skill,

The end of the world.

Why should this earth delight us so?
Why should we fix our eyes
On these low grounds where sorrows grow,
And every pleasure dies ?

While time his sharpest teeth prepares
Our comforts to devour,
There is a land above the stars,
And joys above his power.

Nature shall be dissolved and die,
The sun must end his race,
The earth and sea for ever fly
Before my Savior's face.

When will that glorious morning rise?
When the last trumpet sound,

Characters of Christ; borrowed from inanimate things in Scripture.

Go, worship at Immanuel's feet,
See in his face what wonders meet!
Earth is too narrow to express
His worth, his glory, or his grace.

[The whole creation can afford
But some faint shadows of my Lord;
Nature, to make his beauties known,
Must mingle colors not her own.]

[Is he compared to wine or bread?
Dear Lord, our souls would thus be fed
That flesh, that dying blood of thine,
Is bread of life, is heav'nly wine.]

Whose was the hand that painted thee, O Death!
In the false aspect of a ruthless foe,
Despair and sorrow waiting on thy breath --
O gentle Power! who could have wronged thee so?

Thou rather shouldst be crowned with fadeless flowers,
Of lasting fragrance and celestial hue;
Or be thy couch amid funereal bowers,
But let the stars and sunlight sparkle through.

So, with these thoughts before us, we have fixed
And beautified, O Death! thy mansion here,
Where gloom and gladness -- grave and garden -- mixed,

Oh, but a thought ago a baying hound
had led him to a clearing in the sky.
The stars tolled beyond the sombre clouds
and on the frozen pond the forest sighed.

He knelt, his arrows whetted by a tear,
the fire he’d set, rising into night.
Eternity approached, and in its sphere,
a sudden passing bird eclipsed the light.

He aimed and freed an arrow into dark.
Then maelstroms, downy plumes, snow tainted red,
the pity of the moon: he hit his mark.

The hellward bird now tumbling overhead—

I

How oft has the Benshee cried,
How oft has death untied
Bright links that Glory wove,
Sweet bonds entwined by Love.
Peace to each manly soul that sleepeth;
Rest to each faithful eye that weepeth;
Long may the fair and brave,
Sigh o'er the hero's grave.

II

We raise our arms
The street climbs into the sky
We lower our eyes
The roofs go down into the earth

From every pain
We do not mention
Grows a chestnut tree
That stays mysterious behind us

From every hope
We cherish
Sprouts a star
That moves unreachable before us

Can you hear a bullet
Flying about our heads
Can you hear a bullet
Waiting to ambush our kiss


Trans. by Anne Pennington


Anonymous submission.

Name, my Laura, name the whirl-compelling
Bodies to unite in one blest whole--
Name, my Laura, name the wondrous magic
By which soul rejoins its kindred soul!

See! it teaches yonder roving planets
Round the sun to fly in endless race;
And as children play around their mother,
Checkered circles round the orb to trace.

Every rolling star, by thirst tormented,
Drinks with joy its bright and golden rain--
Drinks refreshment from its fiery chalice,
As the limbs are nourished by the brain.