POEMS.
25
The young, young lilies of the land
Who need the Master's strengthening hand.
Who need the Master's strengthening hand.
Dear Lord, I would that I might be
Within Thy garden ground,
A chaste white lily grown for Thee
And hedged all safe around.
Oh! might I in Thy fields divine
With Christ's own light reflected shine!
Within Thy garden ground,
A chaste white lily grown for Thee
And hedged all safe around.
Oh! might I in Thy fields divine
With Christ's own light reflected shine!
GROWING OLD.
THE autumn of the year is here
And through the windy wold,
A voice is going forth that says,
"The year is growing old."
But yet on high a sweet bird sings,
And to the heart some solace brings.
And through the windy wold,
A voice is going forth that says,
"The year is growing old."
But yet on high a sweet bird sings,
And to the heart some solace brings.
No more the tender leaves of May
Move trembling in the breeze,
For clad in russet-brown and gold
Stand forth the forest trees.
Yet from the earth late violets rise
Coloured like hope in children's eyes.
Move trembling in the breeze,
For clad in russet-brown and gold
Stand forth the forest trees.
Yet from the earth late violets rise
Coloured like hope in children's eyes.
The warm breath of the summer morn,
Its level falls of light,
Come now no more o'er meadow grass
Once starred with daisies bright,
Yet on the holly-bough there grows
Berries as dear as summer rose.
Its level falls of light,
Come now no more o'er meadow grass
Once starred with daisies bright,
Yet on the holly-bough there grows
Berries as dear as summer rose.
