Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - The Picture in the Hymn-Book by Viktor Rydberg
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By the surging waves of the organ, won.
To tunes that stirred
The chords, I heard
The voice of Jesse’s crowned son.
I heard his voice in the people’s psalm:
“My ransomed soul shall wing
To Salem’s heavenly mountain calm,
Where harps of angels ring,”
On the leaf, mine eyes
Saw outlines fair
Of the mountain rise
On the azure air.
I heard the lay
Of the larks in flight.
Soaring away
To the fields of light.
My longing, too, had wings, and peer
Of the joyous throng,
Was borne along
To Zion, that shone in the ether clear.
O’er groves of olive it fluttering sped.
O’er Canaan’s cities and towns;
Whence folk, with palms, and in gay robes, led
The snow-white lamb, with its crowns
Of green; and wending
Beneath the shade
Of cedars bending,
Procession made.
West, on the ocean
In distance wan.
Sails were in motion.
Swan after swan:
But farther and farther did earth appear;
And Salem rare,
On the stream of the air,
With towers of gold, ever drew more near—
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