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| STERN Daughter of the voice of God! | |
| O Duty! if that name thou love | |
| Who art a light to guide, a rod | |
| To check the erring, and reprove; | |
| Thou who art victory and law | 5 |
| When empty terrors overawe; | |
| From vain temptations dost set free, | |
| And calm’st the weary strife of frail humanity! | |
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| There are who ask not if thine eye | |
| Be on them; who, in love and truth | 10 |
| Where no misgiving is, rely | |
| Upon the genial sense of youth: | |
| Glad hearts! without reproach or blot, | |
| Who do thy work, and know it not: | |
| O! if through confidence misplaced | 15 |
| They fail, thy saving arms, dread Power! around them cast. | |
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| Serene will be our days and bright | |
| And happy will our nature be | |
| When love is an unerring light, | |
| And joy its own security. | 20 |
| And they a blissful course may hold | |
| Ev’n now, who, not unwisely bold, | |
| Live in the spirit of this creed; | |
| Yet find that other strength according to their need. | |
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| I, loving freedom, and untried, | 25 |
| No sport of every random gust, | |
| Yet being to myself a guide, | |
| Too blindly have reposed my trust: | |
| And oft, when in my heart was heard | |
| Thy timely mandate, I deferr’d | 30 |
| The task, in smoother walks to stray; | |
| But thee I now would serve more strictly, if I may. | |
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| Through no disturbance of my soul | |
| Or strong compunction in me wrought, | |
| I supplicate for thy controul, | 35 |
| But in the quietness of thought: | |
| Me this uncharter’d freedom tires; | |
| I feel the weight of chance-desires: | |
| My hopes no more must change their name; | |
| I long for a repose that ever is the same. | 40 |
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| Stern Lawgiver! yet thou dost wear | |
| The Godhead’s most benignant grace; | |
| Nor know we anything so fair | |
| As is the smile upon thy face: | |
| Flowers laugh before thee on their beds, | 45 |
| And fragrance in thy footing treads; | |
| Thou dost preserve the Stars from wrong; | |
| And the most ancient Heavens, through thee, are fresh and strong. | |
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| To humbler functions, awful Power! | |
| I call thee: I myself commend | 50 |
| Unto thy guidance from this hour; | |
| O let my weakness have an end! | |
| Give unto me, made lowly wise, | |
| The spirit of self-sacrifice; | |
| The confidence of reason give; | 55 |
| And in the light of Truth thy bondman let me live. | |
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