John Greenleaf Whittier
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Not always as the whirlwind's rush On Horeb's mount of fear, Not always as the burning bush To Midian's shepherd seer, Nor as the awful voice which came To Israel's prophet bards, Nor as the tongues of cloven flame, Nor gift of fearful words, - Not always thus, with outward sign Of fire or voice from Heaven, The message of a truth divine The call of God is given! Awaking in the human heart Love for the true and right, - Zeal for the Christian's better part, Strength for the Christian's fight. Nor unto manhood's heart alone the holy influence steals: Warm with a rupture not its own, The heart of woman feels! As she who by Samaria's wall The Saviour's errand sought, - As those who with the fervent Paul And meek Aquilla wrought: Or those meek ones whose martyrdom Rome's gathered grandeur saw: Or those who in their Alpine home Braved the Crusader's war, When the green Vaudois, trembling, heard, Through all its vales of death, The martyr's song of triumph poured From woman's failing breath. And gently, by a thousand things Which o'er our spirits pass, Like breezes o'er the harp's fine strings, Or vapors o'er a glass, Leaving their token strange and new Of music or of shade, The summons to the right and true And merciful is made. Oh, then, if gleams of truth and light Flash o'er thy waiting mind, Unfolding to thy mental sight The wants of human-kind; If, brooding over human grief, The earnest wish is known To soothe and gladden with relief An anguish not thine own; Though heralded with naught of fear, Or outward sign or show; Though only to the inward ear It whispers soft and low; Though dropping, as the manna fell, Unseen, yet from above, Noiseless as dew-fall, heed it well, - Thy Father's call of love!