20
poems.
MUSIC.
When sorrow o'er the spirit breathes,
And grief its flowers of darkness wreathes,
Music shall wake the heavenly lyre,
And with new joy the soul inspire.
And grief its flowers of darkness wreathes,
Music shall wake the heavenly lyre,
And with new joy the soul inspire.
When joy's full gushing tide would seek
A fitting tongue its bliss to speak,
Music its deathless lay shall swell,
And bid the strain our rapture tell.
A fitting tongue its bliss to speak,
Music its deathless lay shall swell,
And bid the strain our rapture tell.
When, bending at the shrine of prayer,
We lay our grateful offering there,
The organ's pealing notes shall raise
In numbers high, our song of praise.
We lay our grateful offering there,
The organ's pealing notes shall raise
In numbers high, our song of praise.
In joy or sorrow, weal or wo,
The varied strain shall gently flow;
And sweetly fall upon the ear,
To gild our hope, or calm our fear.
The varied strain shall gently flow;
And sweetly fall upon the ear,
To gild our hope, or calm our fear.
Eternal One! to whom was given
That first, pure, choral song of heaven,
Which echoed through the courts above,
And swelled the notes of joy and love,—
That first, pure, choral song of heaven,
Which echoed through the courts above,
And swelled the notes of joy and love,—
Our feeble voices raised to Thee,—
O! may their notes accepted be:
Thine be the offering we raise,
And Thine our spirit's noblest praise.
O! may their notes accepted be:
Thine be the offering we raise,
And Thine our spirit's noblest praise.
