Here you will find the Poem Fifth Sunday After Easter - Rogation Sunday of poet John Keble
Now is there solemn pause in earth and heaven; The Conqueror now His bonds hath riven, And Angels wonder why He stays below: Yet hath not man his lesson learned, How endless love should be returned. Deep is the silence as of summer noon, When a soft shower Will trickle soon, A gracious rain, freshening the weary bower - O sweetly then far off is heard The clear note of some lonely bird. So let Thy turtle-dove's sad call arise In doubt and fear Through darkening skies, And pierce, O Lord, Thy justly-sealed ear, Where on the house-top, all night long She trills her widowed, faltering song. Teach her to know and love her hour of prayer, And evermore, As faith grows rare, Unlock her heart, and offer all its store In holier love and humbler vows, As suits a lost returning spouse. Not as at first, but with intenser cry, Upon the mount She now must lie, Till Thy dear love to blot the sad account Of her rebellious race be won, Pitying the mother in the son. But chiefly (for she knows Thee angered worst By holiest things Profaned and curst), Chiefly for Aaron's seed she spreads her wings, If but one leaf she may from Thee Win of the reconciling tree. For what shall heal, when holy water banes! Or who may guide O'er desert plains Thy loved yet sinful people wandering wide, If Aaron's hand unshrinking mould An idol form of earthly gold? Therefore her tears are bitter, and as deep Her boding sigh, As, while men sleep, Sad-hearted mothers heave, that wakeful lie, To muse upon some darling child Roaming in youth's uncertain wild. Therefore on fearful dreams her inward sight Is fain to dwell - What lurid light Shall the last darkness of the world dispel, The Mediator in His wrath Descending down the lightning's path. Yet, yet awhile, offended Saviour, pause, In act to break Thine outraged laws, O spare Thy rebels for Thine own dear sake; Withdraw Thine hand, nor dash to earth The covenant of our second birth. 'Tis forfeit like the first--we own it all - Yet for love's sake Let it not fall; But at Thy touch let veiled hearts awake, That nearest to Thine altar lie, Yet least of holy things descry. Teacher of teachers! Priest of priests! from Thee The sweet strong prayer Must rise, to free First Levi, then all Israel, from the snare. Thou art our Moses out of sight - Speak for us, or we perish quite.