W. Garrett Horder, comp. The Poets’ Bible: New Testament. 1895.
Hymn on the TransfigurationArthur Penrhyn Stanley (18151881)
High on the mountain here with Thee:”
Here in an ampler purer air,
Above the stir of toil and care,
Of hearts distraught with doubt and grief,
Believing in their unbelief,
Calling Thy servants all in vain
To ease them of their bitter pain.
Where rest the souls that talk with Thee;”
Where stand reveal’d to mortal gaze
The great old saints of other days,
Who once receiv’d on Horeb’s height
The eternal laws of truth and right;
Or caught the still small whisper, higher
Than storm, than earthquake, or than fire.
With Thee and with Thy faithful Three.”
Here where the apostle’s heart of rock
Is nerv’d against temptation’s shock;
Here where the Son of Thunder learns
“The thought that breathes, and word that burns;”
Here where on eagle’s wings we move
With him whose last best creed is Love.
Entranc’d, enwrapt, alone with Thee;”
Watching the glist’ning raiment glow,
Whiter than Hermon’s whitest snow;
The human lineaments that shine
Irradiant with a light Divine!
Till we too changed from grace to grace,
Gazing on that transfigured Face.
In life’s worst anguish close to Thee;”
Within the overshadowing cloud
Which wraps us in its awful shroud,
We wist not what to think or say—
Our spirits sink in sore dismay;
They tell us of the dread Decease,
But yet to linger here is peace.
Here on the Holy Mount with Thee;”
When darkling in the depths of night,
When dazzled with excess of light
We bow before the Heavenly Voice
That bids bewilder’d souls rejoice,
Though love wax cold and faith be dim—
“This is my Son—O hear ye Him.”