« PreviousContinue »
I join them in their songs of gladness,
And feel the happiness I see;
Since I knew thee!
Mine are the prouder hopes of life,
The hopes that cannot dread decay, That see no evil, fear no strife
To meet and grapple on the way; The thoughts that thrill, the joys that blessThat language never can expressAll-all are mine-my bosom’s treasure
Hopes, joys, and thoughts—the happy threeMy life hath been a life of pleasure,
Since I knew thee!
For all these gifts what can I find
What offering wilt thou keep?
Devotion pure and deep-
My offering cannot be-
Of simple hearts and gentle souls; and I
When lonely on the grassy hills I lie,
Under the shadow of the tranquil sky; I can find music in the rushing brooks,
Or in the songs which dwell among the trees, And come in snatches on the summer breeze.
I can find treasure in the leafy showers
Which in the merry autumn-time will fall; And I can find strong love in buds and flowers, And beauty in the moonlight's silent hours.
There's nothing nature gives can fail to please, For there's a common joy pervading all.
Since the day the world began?
And iš trod by common man!
Like the shepherd-race of old
SPRING HYMN. How pleasant is the opening year!
The clouds of winter melt away; The flowers in beauty reappear;
The songster carols from the spray; Lengthens the more refulgent day;
And bluer glows the arching sky; All things around us seem to say,
“Christian! direct thy thoughts on high.” In darkness, through the dreary length
Of Winter, slept both bud and bloom ; But nature now puts forth her strength,
And starts, renew'd, as from the tomb; Behold an emblem of thy doom,
O man!-a Star hath shone to saveAnd morning yet shall reillume
The midnight darkness of the grave!
Yet ponder well, how then shall break
The dawn of second life on thee-
Or vainly strive God's wrath to flee?
That makes or weal or woe thine own;
What eloquence impart,
It is the seat of bliss,
It smiles where friendship is,
'Tis Virtue's hallow'd fane-
A strength that will remain,
It is Religion's shrine,
Where joys, which are divine,
The fount of tendernessWhere every purer passion hath its birth,
To cheer-to charm-to bless And sanctify our pilgrimage on earth.
Oh heart! till life be o'er,
And I will ask no more
A WORLD WITHOUT WATER.
Yesternight I pray'd aloud,
In anguish and in agony;
I HAD a dream in the dead of night,
A dream of agony;
Of an unclouded sky;
And that all the springs were dry:
And I was standing on a hill,
And looking all around:
Strength in my limbs was found,
My destinies were bound.
Beneath me was a far-spread heath,
Where once had risen a spring,
In its graceful wandering:
And the glare of the dark-blue sky,
In light waves wandering by.
And farther on was a stately wood,
With its tall trees rising high,
Beneath a summer sky: