Poems of Religious Sorrow, Comfort, Counsel, and Aspiration

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Hurd and Houghton, 1866 - Religious poetry - 274 pages
 

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Page 132 - Mysterious Night! when our first Parent knew Thee from report divine, and heard thy name, Did he not tremble for this lovely frame, This glorious canopy of light and blue? Yet 'neath a curtain of translucent dew, Bathed in the rays of the great setting flame, Hesperus with the host of heaven came; And, lo! Creation widened in man's view.
Page 33 - So runs my dream : but what am I ? An infant crying in the night; An infant crying for the light, And with no language but a cry.
Page 99 - THERE is no flock, however watched and tended, But one dead lamb is there ! There is no fireside, howsoe'er defended, But has one vacant chair ! The air is full of farewells to the dying, And mournings for the dead ; The heart of Rachel, for her children crying, Will not be comforted ! Let us be patient ! These severe afflictions Not from the ground arise, But oftentimes celestial benedictions Assume this dark disguise.
Page 51 - WILT thou forgive that sin where I begun, Which was my sin, though it were done before ? Wilt thou forgive that sin through which I run, And do run still, though still I do deplore ? When thou hast done, thou hast not done, For I have more.
Page 276 - RING out wild bells to the wild sky, The flying cloud, the frosty light: The year is dying in the night ; Ring out, wild bells, and let him die. Ring out the old, ring in the new, Ring, happy bells, across the snow : The year is going, let him go ; Ring out the false, ring in the true.
Page 173 - I would not have the restless will That hurries to and fro, Seeking for some great thing to do, Or secret thing to know; I would be treated as a child, And guided where I go.
Page 26 - Whatever crazy sorrow saith, No life that breathes with human breath Has ever truly long'd for death. ' Tis life, whereof our nerves are scant, Oh life, not death, for which we pant; More life, and fuller, that I want.
Page 168 - Teach me, my God and King, In all things Thee to see, And what I do in any thing To do it as for Thee.
Page 43 - Thine are these orbs of light and shade; Thou madest Life in man and brute; Thou madest Death; and lo, thy foot Is on the skull which thou hast made.
Page 111 - And with them the Being Beauteous,' Who unto my youth was given, More than all things else to love me, And is now a saint in heaven.

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