To Miss Henrietta Sargent.
1870.
I promised to send you the lines I wrote about George Thompson in 1835.
Here they are. Perhaps they will recall to you the feelings with which you used to listen to him in those old stirring times. I've heard thee when thy powerful wordsWere like the cataract's roar,
Or like the ocean's mighty waves
Resounding on the shore.
But, even in reproof of sin,
Love brooded over all,
As the mild rainbow's heavenly arch
Rests on the waterfall.
I've heard thee in the hour of prayer,
When dangers were around;
Thy voice was like the royal harp,
That breathed a charmed sound.
The evil spirit felt its power,
And howling turned away;
And some, perchance, who “came to scoff,
Remained with thee to pray.”
I've seen thee, too, in playful mood,
When words of magic spell
Dropped from thy lips like fairy gems,
That sparkled as they fell. [207]
Still great and good in every change,
Magnificent and mild,
As if a seraph's godlike power
Dwelt in a little child.