166
poems.
Yet notes more holy shall ascend,
With angel harmony to blend:
Praise in His earthly courts is given;
Praise tunes the harps of saints in heaven.
With angel harmony to blend:
Praise in His earthly courts is given;
Praise tunes the harps of saints in heaven.
Eternal Father! King divine!
Grant we may meet around Thy shrine,
And wake to Thee that strain on high,
Whose melody shall never die.
Grant we may meet around Thy shrine,
And wake to Thee that strain on high,
Whose melody shall never die.
A SKETCH.
Bright and most beautiful she sank to rest;
Not as the angry storm-wind, spent with rage,
Ceases its roaring, to resume once more
Its march of devastation o'er the land;
But as the summer breeze, that gently floats
Around our path, and wafts the rich perfume
Of Nature's glorious flowers, when sunset glows,
And kindly lingers in the radiant west.
Not as the angry storm-wind, spent with rage,
Ceases its roaring, to resume once more
Its march of devastation o'er the land;
But as the summer breeze, that gently floats
Around our path, and wafts the rich perfume
Of Nature's glorious flowers, when sunset glows,
And kindly lingers in the radiant west.
Scarcely had eighteen summers o'er her head
Their golden sunlight lavished. It was well
That, as the summer floweret drooped and died,
When breathed upon by Autumn's siroc lip,
That lovelier flower should fold its bursting leaves,
Which God's own touch had painted, that its bloom
Might yet unfold in heaven's immortal bowers.
Their golden sunlight lavished. It was well
That, as the summer floweret drooped and died,
When breathed upon by Autumn's siroc lip,
That lovelier flower should fold its bursting leaves,
Which God's own touch had painted, that its bloom
Might yet unfold in heaven's immortal bowers.
