Here you will find the Poem Matrimony of poet John Keble
There is an awe in mortals' joy, A deep mysterious fear Half of the heart will still employ, As if we drew too near To Eden's portal, and those fires That bicker round in wavy spires, Forbidding, to our frail desires, What cost us once so dear. We cower before th' heart-searching eye In rapture as its pain; E'en wedded Love, till Thou be nigh, Dares not believe her gain: Then in the air she fearless springs, The breath of Heaven beneath her wings, And leaves her woodnote wild, and sings A tuned and measured strain. Ill fare the lay, though soft as dew And free as air it fall, That, with Thine altar full in view, Thy votaries would enthrall To a foul dream, of heathen night, Lifting her torch in Love's despite, And scaring with base wild-fire light The sacred nuptial hall. Far other strains, far other fires, Our marriage-offering grace; Welcome, all chaste and kind desires, With even matron pace Approaching down this hallowed aisle! Where should ye seek Love's perfect smile, But where your prayers were learned erewhile, In her own native place? Where, but on His benignest brow, Who waits to bless you here? Living, he owned no nuptial vow, No bower to Fancy dear: Love's very self--for Him no need To nurse, on earth, the heavenly seed: Yet comfort in His eye we read For bridal joy and fear. 'Tis He who clasps the marriage band, And fits the spousal ring, Then leaves ye kneeling, hand in hand, Out of His stores to bring His Father's dearest blessing, shed Of old on Isaac's nuptial bed, Now on the board before ye spread Of our all-bounteous King. All blessings of the breast and womb, Of Heaven and earth beneath, Of converse high, and sacred home, Are yours, in life and death. Only kneel on, nor turn away From the pure shrine, where Christ to-day Will store each flower, ye duteous lay, For an eternal wreath.