I stood on that majestic height,
The lofty Hill of Andover,
Where sacred science holds the light
That beams to distant lands from her.
For there the school of sages stands,
Where, from afar, disciples meet
For lore divine, in holy bands
To sit and learn at Wisdom's feet.
Within its consecrated walls
Is kept and taught Jehovah's will:—
The LAW, whose voice in thunder falls—
The GOSPEL, whispering, "Peace! be still!"
The structures while I viewed around,
I seemed to breathe Mount's Zion's air;
I set my foot with awe profound,
As if the ark of God were there.
Each earthly care was calm and dumb,
For holier thoughts the soul to fill;
As if the Shechinah had come
To rest upon that reverend hill.
A mellow glory crowned its head;
And from its foot, in landscape wide,
Profusely nature's charms were spread,
Till in the distance vision died.
It was a summer day's decline:
The drowsy flowers began to close;
The breezes lulled, that stirred the vine;
And all things tended to repose.
The sun, adown the western skies,
Was sinking fast to pass from view,
Calm as the righteous when he dies
To earth, in heaven to live anew.
And thence, on edifice and site,
His golden smile was backward cast,
As if he loved that favored height
To bless the longest and the last.
In eastern splendor, then arrayed,
The full-orbed moon arose serene,
Through evening's hush and night's cool shade
To throw her lustre o'er the scene.
Her silvery vesture wrapped in sheen
The stately seminary pile,
And fell on tree, and flower, and green,
Where pearly dews distilled the while.
And through the chapel's crystal shone
Her light, within the place of prayer,
Till bright-winged angels, from the throne
Above, seemed met and hovering there.
It was a scene—it was an hour
A spirit bowed in dust to raise
Ennobled, till its every power,
Awaked to joy, was tuned to praise.
Clear as that sun, fair as that moon,
Shall thy dear Zion rise and shine
Above her foes—Ah! Lord, how soon?—
When shall the ends of earth be thine?