1 Father of lights! what sunny seed, What glance of day hast thou confined Into this bird? To all the breed This busy ray thou hast assigned; Their magnetism works all night, And dreams of paradise and light. 2 Their eyes watch for the morning hue, Their little grain-expelling night So shines and sings, as if it knew The path unto the house of light. It seems their candle, howe'er done, Was tinned and lighted at the sun. 3 If such a tincture, such a touch, So firm a longing can empower, Shall thy own image think it much To watch for thy appearing hour? If a mere blast so fill the sail, Shall not the breath of God prevail? 4 O thou immortal light and heat! Whose hand so shines through all this frame, That by the beauty of the seat, We plainly see who made the same, Seeing thy seed abides in me, Dwell thou in it, and I in thee! 5 To sleep without thee is to die; Yea,'tis a death partakes of hell: For where thou dost not close the eye It never opens, I can tell. In such a dark, Egyptian border, The shades of death dwell, and disorder. 6 If joys, and hopes, and earnest throes, And hearts, whose pulse beats still for light, Are given to birds; who, but thee, knows A love-sick soul's exalted flight? Can souls be tracked by any eye But his, who gave them wings to fly? 7 Only this veil which thou hast broke, And must be broken yet in me, This veil, I say, is all the cloak And cloud which shadows me from thee. This veil thy full-eyed love denies, And only gleams and fractions spies. 8 Oh, take it off! make no delay; But brush me with thy light, that I May shine unto a perfect day, And warm me at thy glorious eye! Oh, take it off! or till it flee, Though with no lily, stay with me! THE PALM-TREE. 1 Dear friend, sit down, and bear awhile this shade, As I have yours long since. This plant you see So pressed and bowed, before sin did degrade Both you and it, had equal liberty 2 With other trees; but now, shut from the breath And air of Eden, like a malcontent It thrives nowhere. This makes these weights, like death And sin, hang at him; for the more he's bent 3 The more he grows. Celestial natures still Aspire for home. This Solomon of old, By flowers, and carvings, and mysterious skill Of wings, and cherubims, and palms, foretold. 4 This is the life which, hid above with Christ In God, doth always (hidden) multiply, And spring, and grow, a tree ne'er to be priced, A tree whose fruit is immortality. 5 Here spirits that have run their race, and fought, And won the fight, and have not feared the frowns Nor loved the smiles of greatness, but have wrought Their Master's will, meet to receive their crowns.