Songs in the Night-watches: From Voices Old and New

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Baker and Taylor, 1888 - American poetry - 297 pages

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Page 269 - The world recedes ; it disappears ! Heaven opens on my eyes ! my ears With sounds seraphic ring ! Lend, lend your wings ! I mount ! I fly ! O grave, where is thy victory ? O death, where is thy sting...
Page 196 - Though nothing can bring back the hour Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower; We will grieve not, rather find Strength in what remains behind...
Page 103 - He looks abroad into the varied field Of nature, and though poor, perhaps, compared With those whose mansions glitter in his sight, Calls the delightful scenery all his own. His are the mountains, and the valleys his, And the resplendent rivers. His to' enjoy With a propriety that none can feel, But who, with filial confidence inspired, Can lift to Heaven an unpresumptuous eye, And smiling say—
Page 196 - Hence, in a season of calm weather Though inland far we be, Our souls have sight of that immortal sea Which brought us hither; Can in a moment travel thither — And see the children sport upon the shore, And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore.
Page 94 - The friends who in our sunshine live, When winter comes, are flown, And he who has but tears to give Must weep those tears alone.
Page 144 - As the bird trims her to the gale, I trim myself to the storm of time, I man the rudder, reef the sail, Obey the voice at eve obeyed at prime: 'Lowly faithful, banish fear, Right onward drive unharmed; The port, well worth the cruise, is near, And every wave is charmed.
Page 269 - VITAL spark of heavenly flame! Quit, O quit this mortal frame ! Trembling, hoping, lingering, flying, O, the pain, the bliss of dying ! Cease, fond nature, cease thy strife, And let me languish into life! Hark! they whisper; angels say, Sister spirit, come away!
Page 118 - There's not a chain That hellish foes, confederate for his harm, Can wind around him, but he casts it off With as much ease as Samson his green withes. He looks abroad into the varied field Of nature, and, though poor perhaps compared With those whose mansions glitter in his sight, Calls the delightful scenery all his own.
Page 138 - And if my heart and flesh are weak To bear an untried pain, The bruised reed he will not break, But strengthen and sustain.
Page 274 - Life ! we've been long together Through pleasant and through cloudy weather; 'Tis hard. to part when friends are dear — Perhaps 'twill cost a sigh, a tear; — Then steal away, give little warning, Choose thine own time; Say not Good Night, — but in some brighter clime Bid me Good Morning.

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