Thomas Cogswell Upham

Although affliction smites my heart,
And earthly pleasures flee,
There is one bliss that ne'er shall part,
My joy, oh God, in Thee.
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When fearless seamen spread the journeying sail,
And bear away beneath the welcome gale,
To brave, o'er ocean's waste, with hardy form,
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Man's spirit hath an upward look,
And robes itself with heavenly wings;
E'en when 'tis here compelled to brook
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From our lovely retreat, when forever we part,
Where smile answered smile, and where heart beat to heart;
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He makes the deaf to hear, the blind to see,
Restores the faint, and doth the bleeding bind,
But shows himself more strong in charity,
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Who is my brother? 'Tis not merely he,
Who hung upon the same loved mother's breast;
But every one, whoever he may be,
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Where is the Judgement Book, which God doth keep?
Where is the record he hath made of sin?
So that at last it shall awake from sleep,
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The soul hath power, through God's mysterious plan,
To mould anew and to assimilate
The outward incidents that wait on man,
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When on some voyage of trade in distant seas,
The gallant ship has ploughed for many years,
At last, with sails rejoicing in the breeze,
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When the last trump shall sound, all earth shall hear,
The sea's wide tumbling waves be fixed with dread,
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Rejoice not in thy wealth of house and fields,
Nor build your hopes and bliss on earthly fame;
Earth but a momentary glory yields,
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Oh, tell me no more of the blisses prevailing
In the tapestried halls of the noble and great,
Oh, tell me no more of the joys never failing,
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A Little bird I am,
Shut from the fields of air;
And in my cage I sit and sing
To Him, who placed me there;
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Dark is the watery way
Of life's tempestuous sea:
And none, Oh Christ, are safe, but they
Who put their trust in Thee.
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Alas, how ceaseless is life's silent tide!
How rapidly onward waters glide!
Not meads nor flowers, that crown its liquid way,
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I.
Sadly and slow the mourners came
Through Charleston's streets, with bleeding heart;
And breathed their hate on Rawdon's name,
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Long did the clouds and darkness roll
Around my troubled breast;
No starlight shone upon my soul,
My footsteps found no rest.
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My heart is in a land afar,
Unseen by mortal eyes;
A clime, that needs nor moon nor star
A land of cloudless skies.
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Say not, 'tis all a dreary way,
With rocks beset, with briars growing,
Where never beams of sunlight stray,
And ne'er a gentle stream is flowing.
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If there is sunshine in the face,
And joy upon the brow,
Do not suppose, that there's a trace
Of answering joy below.
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