The Poetry of the Psalms

Nobly thy song, O minstrel! rush'd to meet Th' Eternal on the pathway of the blast, With darkness round him, as a mantle, cast, And cherubim to waft his flying seat; Amidst the hills that smoked beneath his feet With trumpet-voice thy spirit call'd aloud, And bade the trembling rocks his name repeat, And the bent cedars, and the bursting cloud. But far more gloriously to earth made known By that high strain than by the thunder's tone, The flashing torrents, or the ocean's roll, Jehovah spake, through the imbreathing fire, Nature's vast realms for ever to inspire With the deep worship of a living soul.