Sabbath Recreations: Or, Select Poetry of a Religious Kind

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Otis, Broaders, 1839 - 288 oldal
 

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207. oldal - DURING HIS SOLITARY ABODE IN THE ISLAND OF JUAN FERNANDEZ. I AM monarch of all I survey, My right there is none to dispute; From the centre all round to the sea, I am lord of the fowl and the hrute. 0 solitude! where are the charms
274. oldal - of light, Angels ! for ye behold him, and with songs And choral symphonies, day without night, Circle his throne rejoicing. Ye in heaven! On earth, join all ye creatures to extol Him first, him last, him midst, and without end! Fairest of stars, last in the train of night, Sure pledge of day, that
133. oldal - in purple and gold; And the sheen of their spears was like stars in the sea When the blue ware rolls nightly on deep Galilee. Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green, That host with their banners at sunset
188. oldal - gloom, O'ershadows all the earth and skies, Like some dark beauteous bird, whose plume Is sparkling with a thousand eyes, That sacred gloom, those fires divine, So grand, so countless, Lord, are thine. And every flower the summer wreathes Is born beneath that kindling eye: Where'er we turn, thy glories shine, And all things fair and bright are thine. THE
205. oldal - the blood of goat, The flesh of rams, I will not prize ; A contrite heart, an humble thought, Are mine accepted sacrifice." FUNERAL HYMN. YE midnight shades, o'er nature spread! Dumb silence of the dreary hour! In honor of the approaching dead, Around your awful terrors pour. Yes, pour around On this pale ground,
163. oldal - roam : But high she shoots through air and light, Above all low delay, Where nothing earthly bounds her flight, Nor shadow dims her way. So grant me, God, from every care And stain of passion free, Aloft, through virtue's purer air, To hold my course to
188. oldal - vistas into heaven, Those hues that mark the sun's decline, So soft, so radiant, Lord, are thine. When night, with wings of stormy gloom, O'ershadows all the earth and skies, Like some dark beauteous bird, whose plume Is sparkling with a thousand eyes, That sacred gloom, those fires divine, So grand, so countless, Lord, are thine.
201. oldal - men, And the brightness of their smile was gone from upland, glade, and glen. And now when comes the calm, mild day, as still such days will come, To call the squirrel and the bee from out their winter home, When the sound of dropping nuts is heard, though all The
157. oldal - origin divine, God's glorious image—freed from clay, In heaven's eternal sphere shall shine, A star of day ! The sun is but a spark of fire, A transient meteor in the sky; The soul, immortal as its Sire, SHALL NEVER DIE ! GOD'S FIRST TEMPLES.—A
177. oldal - THE REV. W. MASON. TAKE, holy earth, all that my soul holds dear; Take that best gift, which Heaven so lately gave. To Bristol's fount I bore, with trembling care, Her faded form—she how'd to taste the wave, And died ! Does youth, does beauty read the line ? Does sympathetic fear their breast alarm ? Speak, dead

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