An Extract from The Story of Carn Brea
The Sabbath bells are ringing, vale and wood,
And rock, and ridge, and slope with mosses dress’d,
Seem hung with echoes; wandering voices flow
Upon the spirit, lulling it to peace,
And gentle visions fill the mind with heaven.
Beneath this honeysuckle let me sit
In quiet meditation. As for man,
His days are swifter than the eagle’s wing,
Or river rushing down the steepest crag.
To-day he rises in his summer prime,
To-morrow bends along the vale of age.
How near the days of happy childhood seem.
Though forty winters block them up with clouds!
I stretch my arms forth with a gush of joy,
And seems to touch my daisy-gathering hours.
Alas! Alas! old Time hath hurried on,
And left them far behind the farthest hills,
With king-cups sparkling over all the land
And now I battle with the storms of life.
But there is peace at last for all our woe,
And comfort for the weary, if we trust
The kind and loving Saviour, in the home
Of Eden-music higher than the stars.
The audio file is for personal use only and may not be played in a public environment without the express permission of the John Harris Society.
