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Title: Sabbath Morning Musings
Author: John Castillo [
More Titles by Castillo]
“I was glad when they said unto me,
Let us go into the house of the Lord.”
Psalm. cxxii. 1.
How do I love thy courts, O Lord!
What glories they unfold:
The joys they do to me afford,
More precious are than gold!
The very gates through which I pass,
Are beautiful to me!
What numbers here beneath the grass,
In silent slumber lie!
While I approach this solemn ground,
My thoughts I will controul;—
The tolling bell, with mournful sound,
Affects my inmost soul!
While musing o’er the silent dead,
What wonders do I see!
The very dust on which I tread,
Once liv’d, and mov’d like me!
Here things mysterious I perceive,
Things which I can’t explain;—
Wak’d by that voice which Heav’n shall give,
This dust shall “rise again!”
Then some to everlasting life,
Exultingly shall rise;
While some to everlasting death,
Shall go with weeping eyes!
Such as we sow, that shall we reap;
The sowing time is now:—
O may I watch, and faithful, keep
My station at the plough!
O what’s this world with all its joys,
But a delusive dream;
The dead, as speaking witnesses,
All testify the same.
They preach in lectures loud and plain,
Though silent, cold, and deep;
They tell me, if the earth remain,
I soon like them shall sleep!
They cry to all, “Repent, believe,
And you shall pardon’d be;
Unless that blessing you receive,
You’re lost eternally!”
The dial faithful to its task,
The sun in yonder sky,
Both show to us without a mask,
How swift the moments fly!
“Redeem thy time!” they seem to say,
“Thy life is but a span;
For what are three score years and ten?
And that’s the age of man!”
Here on a level all are laid,
Here none the conquest have!
The robes that once the rich array’d,
Are tarnish’d by the grave!
The cheek which blossom’d like the rose,
Has lost its lovely charms;
That beauteous form the lover chose,
Is clasp’d in Death’s cold arms.
All earthly hopes, and earthly joys,
And prospects must decay;—
But they who serve their God aright,
Shall live in endless day!
How wondrously the scene is chang’d!
How lovely they appear!
I view them in their state arrang’d,
With more delight than fear!
Ah! once the scene was not so fair,
I scarce could read a stone!
But grace can conquer slavish fear,—
With joy I look thereon!
The opening grave oft spoil’d the hinge,
On which my fancy play’d;
The skulls and bones would make me cringe,
While I their forms survey’d.
Chill horror used to haunt my breast,
While sin therein remain’d;—
But Jesu’s name be ever blest,
I have his favour gain’d!
’Tis faith perfumes destruction’s breath,
Our Jesu’s strong to save;
’Tis faith removes the sting of death,
The terrors of the grave!
How oft have I in giddy maze,
This sacred passage trod!
Not thinking ’twas so pure a place,
Much less the house of God!
His mercy doth preserve me still,
He doth not always chide;
But waits that all His love may feel,
Since he for all hath died.
Behind some lofty pillar here,
In silence let me steal;
And tread His courts with humble fear,
And low before him kneel.
With fearful, trembling, broken heart,
To him I lift mine eyes;
And wait till He his love impart,
And conscience bid me rise!
Then will I praise Thee, O my God,
When in my heart it glows!
And gladly wait to hear thy Word,
And catch it as it flows!
Then may I keep thy sabbaths pure,
And still thy house attend;
Until that sabbath shall commence,
Which never hath an end!
[The end]
John Castillo's poem: Sabbath Morning Musings
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