Exodus Xx. 3. Poem by Mary Anne Browne

'BLESSED be God! who has not sealed
His gospel from our sight,
Who His commandments hath revealed
By their own heavenly light;
Thanks be to God! in our bright lands
We are not as the heathen bands—

'The heathen bands, who darkly kneel
To gods of wood and stone:'
Stay!—Dost thou in thy spirit feel
These idols are alone?
Alas! on this enlightened shore,
A thousand idols we adore.

Do we not hang on hopes that die
Like unsubstantial dew?
Do we not trust to thoughts that fly
Like clouds o'er heaven's rich blue?
Do we not treasure every gem
Of love, and trust, and worship them?

Have we not throned some splendid dream
On earth's upgathered gold;
And set our hearts on some dear scheme,
That years must yet unfold?
Have they not in our spirits wrought,
Until they were our highest thought?

Maiden! hast thou no idol framed,
And decked from passion's flame?
Mother! hast thou no worship, named
But by affection's name?
Patriot! what pathway hast thou trod,
Mistaking country for thy God?

Christian! I see thy quiet brow,
For thee I have no fear;
I read upon thy bosom now,
'One worship dwelleth here,—
The love of one Eternal Three—
The love of one who died for me.'

Thou hadst thine earthly idols once;
But thou hast climbed a hill,
And, looking up to heaven's expanse,
Where all is calm and still,
Thou seest its placid boundlessness,
That never waxes or grows less;

And, looking down upon the earth,
Though fair and widely spread,
Thou seest how little it is worth,
The prospect overhead;
How small, how vague, how undefined,
The idols thou hast left behind!

Thy love is purity, thy soul
A deep and quiet well,
Where all affections, in control
Of faith and meekness, dwell;
Thou feel'st, on earth thy heart may love,
But all its worship soars above.