That ours may be — for ours must be —
The whole, the whole of Germany.
s



HERDER.
HERDER.
THE ORGAN.
O, TELL me who contrived this wondrous frame,

Full of the voices of all living things, —

This temple, which, by God's own breath inspired,

So boldly blends the heart-appalling groan

Of wailing Misereres with the soft

Tones of the plaintive flute, and cymbars clang,

And roar of jubilee, and hautboy's scream,

With martial clarion's blast, and with the call

Of the loud-sounding trump of victory.
From lightest shepherd's reed the strain ascends
To tymbal's thunder and the awakening trump
Of judgment. Graves are opening ! Hark, the dead
Are stirring !

How the tones hang hovering now
On all creation's mighty, outspread wings.
Expectant, and the breezes murmur ! Hark !
Jehovah comes ! He comes ! His thunder speaks !

In the soft-breathing, animated tone
Of human words speaks the All-merciful



210 HERDER.
At length ; the trembling heart responds to him ;
Till, now, all voices and all souls at once »

Ascend to heaven, upon the clouds repose —
One Hallelujah ! — Bow, bow down in prayer !

Apollo tuned the light guitar ; the son
Of Maia strung the lyre ; mighty Pan
Hollowed the flute. Who was this mightiest Pan,
That blent the breath of all creation here ?
« * . * «

Cecilia, noblest of the Roman maids.
