Poems of Religious Sorrow, Comfort, Counsel and Aspiration

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Houghton, 1886 - 277 ˹éÒ

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˹éÒ 106 - 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.
˹éÒ 25 - 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.
˹éÒ 198 - 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.
˹éÒ 145 - 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.
˹éÒ 151 - Stern Lawgiver! yet thou dost wear The Godhead's most benignant grace; Nor know we anything so fair As is the smile upon thy face: Flowers laugh before thee on their beds And fragrance in thy footing treads; Thou dost preserve the stars from wrong; And the most ancient heavens, through thee, Are fresh and strong.
˹éÒ 206 - Hold thou thy cross before my closing eyes; shine through the gloom, and point me to the skies: Heaven's morning breaks, and earth's vain shadows flee; in life, in death, O Lord, abide with me!
˹éÒ 10 - 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.
˹éÒ 17 - Behold, we know not anything; I can but trust that good shall fall At last— far off— at last, to all, And every winter change to spring. 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.
˹éÒ 21 - 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.
˹éÒ 73 - 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.

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