There is no light in earth or heaven But the cold light of stars; And the first watch of night is given the red planet Mars.
Is it the tender star of love? The star of love and dreams? O no! from that blue tent above, A hero's armor gleams.
And earnest thoughts within me rise, When I behold afar, Suspended in the evening skies, The shield of that red star.
O star of strength! I see thee stand And smile upon my brain; Thou beckonest with thy mailed hand, And I am strong again.
Within my heart there is no light But the cold light of stars; I give the first watch of the night To the red planet Mars.
The star of the unconquered will He rises in my heart Serene, and resolute, and still, And calm, and self-possessed.
And thou, too, whosoe'er thou art, That readest this brief psalm, As one by one thy hopes depart, Be resolute and calm.
O fear not in a world like this, And thou shalt know ere long, Know how sublime a thing it is To suffer and be strong.
So study the stars, get from them all you can. Let their serenity sink into your soul, and their calm peace speak peace to your troubled and restless spirit. Yield to your imagination as to whatever they bring you, and be thankful for every suggestion of largeness, bigness, power, and love.
In his _Saul_, Browning has David tell how the stars suggested to him the life of the people far away, who dwelt far beyond the possibility of his ever seeking them. How could he, the poor and humble shepherd lad, ever hope to see and know these people? Yet he could picture them. So can you. Let your imagination grow! Let it roam! Enjoy all it gives to you of good and inspiration. Think of the life you might live if you had the power some of these people have, and then seek to live worthy of that larger life even in the restricted sphere in which you are placed.
But there are other things in the heavens, almost as common as the stars, that may become a great and glorious inspiration to you.
I once saw a display of lightning that came to me as a revelation from God. It was so vivid and intense that the friends who were with me, old Arizona pioneers who had braved hundreds of storms, were afraid, and like myself hid their faces in their blankets. But by and by the absurdity of this act struck me;--as if we were safer with our heads covered than if we were taking in the sight in all its sublimity and terrible splendor. So I resolutely cast my blanket aside, and although I had not yet gotten over the shaking of my knees, I stepped to the cabin door and enjoyed the splendid scene to the full.