New Orleans daily crescent. [volume] ([New Orleans, La.]) 1851-1866, 1853-04-28
DAILY CRESCENT.


From the Sswyork Thbuas
SABBATH BKLIS.
"Thst oasPsiss q ea.ssmasass, r.a
High from the @. nj. ofshs spsrs
Shall marmuf DER ths Land
All that his ehsngssuI f,se brings down
On snrsrins nan below,
Shall u1nrInur from iss metal erswD-
Or be hjoy, or woe" tsehiilsr-
YisetIy fades the daylight fair,
Shadows Of the night are falling
Through the quiet Sabbath air
Many sweet-toned bells are calling.
From the turret lifted high,
With mellow c4denee thrilling
From the little belfry nigh
All the air with music filing.
Clear, and joyous
Sound their voices, ever varying
Grave. to gay. or soft. to low
sweetly, without discord, marrying.
Now, q full, sonorous peal.
Suddenly the silence shiy'ring. frlssE -..
With shock the pinegr feel
Through their topmost branches quiv'rng.
Now, with mellow. throbbing, beats,
Echo, beyond echo, flying,
Till the distant cliff repeats
Snatches, Of the sweet replying
Or, with all their liquid chimes
Blending In a chorus golden,
Dainty, Is the rarest rhymes,
Linked in numbers quaint and olden.
Something Of the Sabbath peace
Dwells forever in their ringing.
Bidding earth born Troubles csses,
Rest unto tho weary bringing
And & thousand moving SPELLS
Born Of hope-of grief-of pleasure
Life hath welded to the bells,
TIL they strike charmed measure.
With their changsful, magic chords,
Bringing all the past before US,
As forgotten ballad words,
Haunt the chance awakened chorus.
Distant, dreamlike. memories start,
With fresh enchantment, borrowed
From the trusting childish heart.
That had never feared, or sorrowcd
Strengthening to remembrance fast,
As the bells with ccaseless ringing,
Weave the story Of the past, s.
Every voice its record bringing.
Till the homestead, as Of yore,
Stands amid Its ample meadows,
And the household group once more
Gather In the evening shadows.
Yet amidst the lightest strain,
Mem'ry through her compass ringing,
Strikes sudden knell Of pain
Joy, to desolstion changing.
For within that Eden bower
Where our life of love was centered,
True to his appointed hour,
The destroyer, Death, has entered.
And the sorrow-stricken soul
Sits in silence, dsrkly brooding
Der the heavy waves that roll,
All its peace with anguish flooding.
Till those jubilees, and means, =
(Fit expounders Of life's story
Change their tender, wailiug tones, or
For prophecy of glory.
Pointing to city bright,
Of whose radiant, pure perfection.
(God himself its constant lght,)
Mind Of man hath no conception.
Where no weary spirit yearns
For the peace its childhood cherished,
Where no mem'ry earthward turns
Mourning for the loved and perished.
But perfect bliss, alone
To the ransomed spirit given,
Wells the woes to mortss known,
From the inhabitants Of Heaven.
In the crowded city, where
Want and woe have made their dwelling
or the quiet country air, q
And the sunny hillside telling.
On the dullest human ears
With familiar cadence falling.
From their childhood's guileess years
Peace and hope, and strength recalling.
Whispering Of the lost, who bore
More of Heaven than earth about Them,
And who left on times wide shore,
Hearts so lone, and drear, without them
By these many potent spells
Made the worlds persuasive teachers,
Often, have these Sabbath bells
Reached beyond the living preachers.
JANET Hale