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bear beauty bird bless bless thee blue borne breast breath breeze bright calm child clear cloud dark death deep dread dreams dwell E'en earth eyes faint fair faith Father fear flow flowers gentle gift give glad gleaming glory glow green hand hath head hear heard heart Heaven hills holy hope hour human land leaves light living lone look meet memory midst morn mountain never night o'er once prayer pure repose rest rich rise rock rose round scene shadow shed shine sigh silent sing sleep smile soft song soul sound spirit spring star steps strain stream strong sweet tears thee thine things thou thou hast thought tone tree true Unto voice wake wandering waters wave wild wind wing woods young
Seite 205 - By Him Who bowed to take The death-cup for our sake, The thorn, the rod ! From Whom the last dismay Was not to pass away ; Aid us, O GOD ! 4 Tremblers beside the grave We call on Thee to save, FATHER divine ! Hear, hear our suppliant breath, Keep us in life and death Thine, only Thine.
Seite 44 - Ah ! then and there was hurrying to and fro, And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress, And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago Blushed at the praise of their own loveliness; And there were sudden partings, such as press The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs Which ne'er might be repeated...
Seite 31 - HAIL to thee, blithe spirit ! Bird thou never wert, That from heaven, or near it, Pourest thy full heart In profuse strains of unpremeditated art Higher still and higher From the earth thou springest Like a cloud of fire; The blue deep thou wingest, And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest.
Seite 283 - With light Elysian ; — for the hues that steep Your shores in melting lustre, seem to float On golden clouds from spirit-lands remote, Isles of the blest ; — and in our memory keep Their place with holiest harmonies.
Seite 248 - Verily I say unto you, Wheresoever this gospel shall be preached in the whole world, there shall also this, that this woman hath done, be told for a memorial of her.
Seite 158 - It passed not, though to Him the grave Had yielded up its dead ! But there was sent Him from on high A gift of strength for man to...
Seite 168 - And midst the forms, in pale proud slumber carved Of Warriors on their tombs. — The People kneel Where mail-clad Chiefs have knelt ; where jewelled crowns On the flushed brows of Conquerors have been set; Where the high Anthems of old Victories Have made the dust give echoes.— Hence, vain thoughts! Memories of Power and Pride, which, long ago, Like dim Processions of a dream, have sunk In twilight depths away.
Seite 208 - God ! We are watchers of a beacon Whose light must never die ; We are guardians of an altar 'Midst the silence of the sky : The rocks yield founts of courage, Struck forth as by thy rod ; For the strength of the hills we bless thee, Our God, our fathers...
Seite 75 - HOW could Fancy crown with thee In ancient days the God of Wine, And bid thee at the banquet be Companion of the vine? Thy home, wild plant, is where each sound Of revelry hath long been o'er, Where song's full notes once peal'd around, But now are heard no more.
Seite 225 - One spirit, His Who wore the platted thorns with bleeding brows, Rules universal nature. Not a flower But shows some touch, in freckle, streak, or stain, Of his unrivall'd pencil. He inspires Their balmy odours, and imparts their hues, And bathes their eyes with nectar, and includes, In grains as countless as the seaside sands, The forms with which he sprinkles all the earth.