Lays for the Sabbath: A collection of religious poetry

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John Pierpont
W. Crosby and H.P. Nichols, 1860 - 288 páginas
 

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Página 276 - Join voices, all ye living souls ; ye birds, That singing up to Heaven-gate ascend, Bear on your wings and in your notes his praise. Ye that in waters glide, and ye that walk The earth, and stately tread, or lowly creep ; Witness if I be silent, morn or even, To hill or valley, fountain or fresh shade, Made vocal by my song, and taught his praise. Hail, universal Lord ! be bounteous still To give us only good ; and if the night Have gathered aught of evil or concealed, Disperse it, as now light dispels...
Página 188 - THOU art, O God, the life and light Of all this wondrous world we see ; Its glow by day, its smile by night, Are but reflections caught from thee. Where'er we turn, thy glories shine, And all things fair and bright are thine.
Página 80 - Though in the paths of death I tread, With gloomy horrors overspread, My steadfast heart shall fear no ill, For Thou, O Lord, art with me still : Thy friendly crook shall give me aid, And guide me through the dreadful shade.
Página 275 - Elements the eldest birth Of Nature's Womb, that in quaternion run Perpetual Circle, multiform ; and mix And nourish all things, let your ceaseless change Vary to our great Maker still new praise.
Página 205 - But, present, still though now unseen, When brightly shines the prosperous day! Be thoughts of Thee a cloudy screen, To temper the deceitful ray. And O, when stoops on Judah's path In shade and storm the frequent night. Be Thou, long-suffering, slow to wrath, A burning and a shining light!
Página 69 - They sin who tell us Love can die. With life all other passions fly, All others are but vanity. In Heaven Ambition cannot dwell, Nor Avarice in the vaults of Hell ; Earthly these passions of the Earth, They perish where they have their birth ; But Love is indestructible. Its holy flame for ever burneth, From Heaven it came, to Heaven returneth...
Página 81 - It was my guide, my light, my all, It bade my dark forebodings cease; And through the storm and danger's thrall, It led me to the port of peace.
Página 176 - O'er mountain, tower, and town, Or mirrored in the ocean vast A thousand fathoms down ! As fresh in yon horizon dark, As young thy beauties seem As when the eagle from the ark First sported in thy beam : For, faithful to its sacred page, Heaven still rebuilds thy span, Nor lets the type grow pale with age That first spoke peace to man.
Página 209 - How fleet is a glance of the mind ! Compared with the speed of its flight, The tempest itself lags behind, And the swift-winged arrows of light When I think of my own native land In a moment I seem to be there; But alas!
Página 276 - In the cross of Christ I glory, Towering o'er the wrecks of time; All the light of sacred story Gathers round its head sublime.

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