R1295-43 Poem: “At All Times”

::R1295 : page 43::


“I will bless the Lord at all times; his praise shall continually be in my mouth.”—Psa. 34:1

“All times” with me are times of praise;
Or rayless nights, or radiant days!
The Summer bright, the Winter drear,
The tearful Spring, the fading year,
The stormy March, the tranquil June,
Through each my harp to praise I tune.

The changeful seasons come and go;
No pause my grateful song shall know.
The love of God glows ‘mid the embers
Strewn on the hearth of life’s Decembers;
And gold is mingled with the gray
Of dim November’s murkiest day.

My bark on flowing seas may ride,
Or strand, forsaken by the tide;
There’s music for me in the flow,
Nor less when ebbing waters go;
If now the chorus louder swell,
‘Twas then a sweeter cadence fell:
Major or minor be the tone
Praise still shall be the theme alone!

All places echo with my song,
Alone, or in the hurrying throng;
The placid lake, the billowy sea,
Shall hear and join the melody.
In sunless rifts, on lofty steep,
In desert vast, on ocean deep.
In caverns dark, on golden heights,
‘Midst veiling mists, or flashing lights,
In God I live, and am, and move.
I’ll sing, for while I live I love!

Nor will I cease though Nature frown,
Though trees be bare, and fields be brown;
Life pulsates underneath the sod,
Love palpitates within the clod.
God lives, though all the earth seem dead;
Though birds be mute, and sunshine fled,
The universe is vocal still;
While, down from heaven’s holy hill
Come floating strains of music sweet
To those who worship at his feet.

Take down again thy dusty lute,
And tune each slack, discordant string;
Nor ever let thy soul be mute.
Lift up thy voice, exulting sing!
“At all times” let the measure move,
For know “at all times” God is Love!
James Yeames.


— March, 1891 —