T H E L A D I E S '   R E P O S I T O R Y .

M A Y,   1 8 4 9 .

      HALLOWED light! pure emanation of Deity! first-born of that powerful fiat which ushered into being creation's marvels! of all the works of God, there is none more beautiful than thou. Before thee was confusion, chaos, and changeless night, and not till thy coming had beauty and order their birth. From the throne of God thou didst come flashing down. Thou hast gladdened the eyes and hearts of countless millions of our race; and though music be sweet, and sweet wafted odors grateful, the world of sounds and perfumes speak not through the sense to the soul like thee.

      Deriving, as we do, such manifold sensations of delight through the eye, sight becomes incomparably dearer than any other sense beside; hence, to become blind--to be shut out from the pleasant sunshine--from all that is lovely, grand, or sublime in nature-from the bright heavens, the verdant earth, the changes of the varied year, and the dear faces of those we love--must, indeed, be the severest lot that can fall to the portion of humanity. Such, at least, was the opinion of the sightless Christian bard, who has furnished our text--who, while memory was busy with the past, presenting to the inward eye bright images of external nature, exclaimed in most melancholy strain:

And, indeed, from our own experience, every one of us can say, "Truly, light is sweet." How pleasant is light in the dawning morn, when the shades of [148] night, like fearful warriors, flee, and from the glowing, empurpled east, dart the swift arrows of the light!

      We hail with joy the first intimations of day's approach. We mark the first faint streakings, scarcely distinguishable from the mountain mists; then the gradual brightening of the portals of the day; a few bright beams, like glancing spears, shoot upward; soon the whole heavens glow with a more glorious dye, and the sun bursts forth in a flood of golden light, giving joy and beauty to all terrestrial things. Man rises up to worship; the groves are vocal with ten thousand strains of God-taught melody; earth seems as if wakened from a deep and deathlike slumber, and all her tribes bless the welcome return of light. Indeed, so universal is this feeling of gladness, that morning is always spoken of as the season of praise and glad rejoicing--evening as that of chastened feeling and meditation--song and exultation for bright day's return, pensive thought and regret for its calm decline.

      But how are our souls subdued when clouds overspread the sky, and darkness reigns at noonday! The lightning's glare serves but to render the gloom more intense, and the wild howling of the storm, as it sweeps by in wrath, fills the mind with terror, and causes us to bow in silence at these dread exhibitions of power. But the storm subsides, the winds are hushed, the clouds disperse, and the signet of Jehovah is placed on the dark brow of the storm--a pledge to the awe-stricken world, that the clouds shall not pour forth more than their accustomed tribute, and that God will ever be mindful of his ancient covenant. Every leaf, and every blade of grass, now glitters with liquid pearls; for light has again visited the world, and caused the earth to smile.

      But light hath holier teachings than when seen in the glow of morning or evening's dyes; it is the emblem of purity. God is enthroned in light, and is represented, by the bard of Israel, as being clothed with light as with a garment; the Redeemer is the Sun of righteousness, whose life-giving rays dispel the gloom of guilt and ignorance; the apostles of his choice, though lesser luminaries, are lights of the world; and the holy volume, which makes known the story of creation and redemption, is a light to our feet, and a guide to our path. Let us rest our souls on its saving truths, make its precious promises our own, walk diligently in the path it points out, and it will lead to the great Father of lights, in whom there is no variableness or shadow of turning.

[The Ladies' Repository 9 (May 1849): 148-149.]

      William Baxter's "Short Sermons from the Poets: Number IV" was first published in The Ladies' Repository: A Monthly Periodical Devoted to Literature and Religion, Vol. 9, No. 5, May 1849, pp. 148-149. This volume, edited by B. F. Tefft, was published in Cincinnati by L. Swormstedt and J. H. Power and in New York by G. Lane and L. Scott.

      Pagination in the electronic version has been represented by placing the page number in brackets following the last complete word on the printed page.

      Addenda and corrigenda are earnestly solicited.

Ernie Stefanik
Derry, PA

Created 13 April 2000.
Updated 28 June 2003.