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There 's a charm in delivery, a magical art,
That thrills, like a kiss, from the lip to the heart;
'T is the glance—the expression—the well-chosen word,
By whose magic the depths of the spirit are stirred,
The smile—the mute gesture—^the soul-startling pause,
The eye's sweet expression—that melts while it awes,
The lip's soft persuasion—its musical tone—
such was the charm of that eloquent one!
That thrills, like a kiss, from the lip to the heart;
'T is the glance—the expression—the well-chosen word,
By whose magic the depths of the spirit are stirred,
The smile—the mute gesture—^the soul-startling pause,
The eye's sweet expression—that melts while it awes,
The lip's soft persuasion—its musical tone—
such was the charm of that eloquent one!
The time is long past, yet how clearly defined
That bay, church, and village, float up on my mind!
1 see amid azure the moon in her pride,
With the sweet little trembler, that sat by her side,
I hear the blue waves, as she wanders along,
Leap up in their gladness and sing her a song,
And I tread in the pathway half-worn o'er the sod
By the feet that went up to the worship of God.
That bay, church, and village, float up on my mind!
1 see amid azure the moon in her pride,
With the sweet little trembler, that sat by her side,
I hear the blue waves, as she wanders along,
Leap up in their gladness and sing her a song,
And I tread in the pathway half-worn o'er the sod
By the feet that went up to the worship of God.
The time is long past, yet what visions I see!
The past, the dim past, is the present to me;
I am standing once more mid that heart-stricken throng,
A vision floats up—'t is the theme of my song—
All glorious and bright as a spirit of air,
The light like a halo encircling his hair—
As I catch the same accents of sweetness and love,
He whispers of Jesus—and points us above.
The past, the dim past, is the present to me;
I am standing once more mid that heart-stricken throng,
A vision floats up—'t is the theme of my song—
All glorious and bright as a spirit of air,
The light like a halo encircling his hair—
As I catch the same accents of sweetness and love,
He whispers of Jesus—and points us above.
How sweet to my heart is the picture I've traced!
Its chain of bright fancies seemed almost effaced,
Its chain of bright fancies seemed almost effaced,
