"Praise ye the Lord!" The psalm to-day
Still rises on
our ears,
Borne from the hills of Boston Bay
Through
five times fifty years,
When Winthrop's fleet from
Yarmouth crept
Out to the open main,
And through the
widening waters swept,
In April sun and rain.
"Pray to
the Lord with fervent lips,"
The leader shouted, "pray;"
And prayer arose from all the ships
As faded Yarmouth
Bay.
They passed the Scilly Isles that day,
And
May-days came, and June,
And thrice upon the ocean lay
The full orb of the moon.
And as that day, on Yarmouth
Bay,
Ere England sunk from view,
While yet the
rippling Solent lay
In April skies of blue,
"Pray to
the Lord with fervent lips,"
Each morn was shouted,
"pray;"
And prayer arose from all the ships,
As first
in Yarmouth Bay;
Blew warm the breeze o'er Western
seas,
Through Maytime morns, and June,
Till hailed
these souls the Isles of Shoals,
Low 'neath the summer
moon;
And as Cape Ann arose to view,
And Norman's Woe
they passed,
The wood-doves came the white mists through,
And circled round each mast.
"Pray to the Lord with
fervent lips,"
Then called the leader, "pray;"
And
prayer arose from all the ships,
As first in Yarmouth
Bay.
Above the sea the hill-tops fair�
God's
towers�began to rise,
And odors rare breathe through the
air,
Like balms of Paradise.
Through burning skies the
ospreys flew,
And near the pine-cooled shores
Danced
airy boat and thin canoe,
To flash of sunlit oars.
"Pray to the Lord with fervent lips,"
The leader shouted,
"pray!"
Then prayer arose, and all the ships
Sailed
into Boston Bay.
The white wings folded, anchors
down,
The sea-worn fleet in line,
Fair rose the hills
where Boston town
Should rise from clouds of pine;
Fair was the harbor, summit-walled,
And placid lay the
sea.
"Praise ye the Lord," the leader called;
"Praise
ye the Lord," spake he.
"Give thanks to God with fervent
lips,
Give thanks to God to-day,"
The anthem rose from
all the ships,
Safe moored in Boston Bay.
"Praise
ye the Lord!" Primeval woods
First heard the ancient
song,
And summer hills and solitudes
The echoes rolled
along.
The Red Cross flag of England blew
Above the
fleet that day,
While Shawmut's triple peaks in view
In amber hazes lay.
"Praise ye the Lord with fervent
lips,
Praise ye the Lord to-day,"
The anthem rose from
all the ships
Safe moored in Boston Bay.
The
Arabella leads the song�
The Mayflower sings below,
That erst the Pilgrims bore along
The Plymouth reefs of
snow.
Oh! never be that psalm forgot
That rose o'er
Boston Bay,
When Winthrop sang, and Endicott,
And
Saltonstall, that day:
"Praise ye the Lord with fervent
lips,
Praise ye the Lord to-day;"
And praise arose
from all the ships,
Like prayers in Yarmouth Bay.
That psalm our fathers sang we sing,
That psalm of peace
and wars,
While o'er our heads unfolds its wing
The
flag of forty stars.
And while the nation finds a tongue
For nobler gifts to pray,
'T will ever sing the song they
sung
That first Thanksgiving Day:
"Praise ye the Lord
with fervent lips,
Praise ye the Lord to-day;"
So rose
the song from all the ships,
Safe moored in Boston Bay.
Our fathers' prayers have changed to psalms,
As
David's treasures old
Turned, on the Temple's giant arms,
To lily-work of gold.
Ho! vanished ships from Yarmouth's
tide,
Ho! ships of Boston Bay,
Your prayers have
crossed the centuries wide
To this Thanksgiving Day!
We pray to God with fervent lips,
We praise the Lord
to-day,
As prayers arose from Yarmouth ships,
But
psalms from Boston Bay. |
