Poetry Explorer


Classic and Contemporary Poetry


THE VOICE OF MANY WATERS by FRANCES RIDLEY HAVERGAL

First Line: FAR AWAY I HEARD IT
Last Line: FROM THE THRONE OF GOD.
Subject(s): GOD; PRAISE; SINGING & SINGERS; VOICES; SONGS;

FAR away I heard it,
Stealing through the pines,
Like a whisper saintly,
Falling dimly, faintly,
Through the terraced vines.

Freshening breezes bore it
Down the mountain slope;
So I turned and listened,
While the sunlight glistened
On the snowy cope.

Far away and dreamy
Was the voice I heard;
Yet it pierced and found me,
Through the voices round me --
Song without a word.

All the life and turmoil,
All the busy cheer,
Melted in the flowing
Of that murmur, growing,
Claiming all my ear.

What the mountain message
I could never tell;
Such AEolian fluting
Hath no language suiting
What we write and spell.

Rather did it enter
Where no words can win,
Touching and unsealing
Springs of hidden feeling
Slumbering deep within.

Voice of many waters
Only heard afar!
Hushing, luring slowly,
With an influence holy,
Like the Orient star.

Following where it leadeth,
Till we stand below,
While the noble thunder
Wins the hush of wonder,
Silent in its glow.

Light and sound triumphant
Fill the eye and ear,
Every pulse is beating
Quick, unconscious greeting
To the vision near.

Rainbow flames are wreathing
In the dazzling foam,
Fancy far transcending,
Power and beauty blending
In their radiant home.

All the dreamy longing
Passes out of sight,
In a swift surrender
To the joyous splendor
Of this song of might.

Self is lost and hidden
As it peals along;
Fevered introspection,
Paler-browed reflection,
Vanish in the song.

For the spirit, lifted
From the dulling mists,
Takes a stronger molding,
As the sound, enfolding,
Bears it where it lists.

Voice of many waters!
Must we turn away
From the crystal chorus
Now resounding o'er us
Through the flashing spray?

Far away we hear it,
Floating from the sky;
Mystic echo, falling
Through the stars, and calling
From the thrones on high.

There are voices round us,
Busy, quick, and loud;
All day long we hear them,
We are still so near them,
Still among the crowd;

Yet amid the clamor
Falls it faint and sweet,
Like the softest harp-tone
Passing every sharp tone
Down the noisy street.

To the soul-recesses
Cleaving then its way,
Waking hidden yearning,
Unwilled impulse turning
To the Far-away.

Far away and viewless,
Yet not all unknown --
In the murmur tracing
Soft notes interlacing
With familiar tone.

So we start and listen
While the murmur low
Falleth ever clearer,
Swelleth ever nearer
In melodious flow.

Voice of many waters
From the heights above!
Hushing, luring slowly
With its influence holy,
With its song of love.

Following where it leadeth,
Pilgrim feet shall stand,
Where the holy millions
Throng the fair pavilions
In the Glorious Land.

Where the sevenfold "Worthy"
Hails the King of kings,
Blent with golden clashing
Of the crowns, and flashing
Of cherubic wings;

Rolls the Amen chorus,
Old, yet ever new;
Seal of blest allegiance,
Pledge of bright obedience,
Seal that God is true.

Through the solemn glory
Alleluias rise,
Mightiest exultation,
Holiest adoration,
Infinite surprise.

There immortal powers
Meet immortal song:
Heavently image bearing,
Angel-essence sharing,
Excellent and strong.

Strong to bear the glory
And the veil-less sight,
Strong to swell the thunders
And to know the wonders
Of the home of light.

Voice of many waters!
Everlasting laud!
Hark! it rushes nearer,
Every moment clearer,
From the Throne of God.



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