Poems . eeming of hope and heaven to all to hear. The minister comes down the street, I see his silver hair;I hear him now the children greet,In accents fatherly and sweet. Ere he ascends the stair. In notes of praise the tuneful choir Sends up the joyful song,As lofty words the heart inspire,The trembling lips new strength acquire. While gladder feelings throng. The good man says, In ways of sin Our erring feet have trod;And that in youth we should beginThe narrow path to enter in, Shunning the one thats broad.,? His benedictions, kind and good, Fall on his waiting flock:It seem
Poems . eeming of hope and heaven to all to hear. The minister comes down the street, I see his silver hair;I hear him now the children greet,In accents fatherly and sweet. Ere he ascends the stair. In notes of praise the tuneful choir Sends up the joyful song,As lofty words the heart inspire,The trembling lips new strength acquire. While gladder feelings throng. The good man says, In ways of sin Our erring feet have trod;And that in youth we should beginThe narrow path to enter in, Shunning the one thats broad.,? His benedictions, kind and good, Fall on his waiting flock:It seems to me the angels broodAbove the place where late he stood Engaged in pious talk. 34 My heart is full of trusting love And hushed is every fear;Peace hovers oer me like a dove,The Better Land lies just above, The pearly gates are near. The censer falls,—the sands move on, .Times fingers press my brow,—Those early scenes have from me flown,Heaven lies behind the Great Unknown,A different country THE NUTTING, TND Priestess, swing thy censer now,L^l Let purple incense rise;The desert sands have ceased to flow,Times heavy hand has left my brow,The present from me flies. Back, back fco childhoods happy years,So full of joys, so free from fears, I stand a child today;Sweet, sunny visions, simple, fair,Touching as some old cradle air, Have swept the past away. The hill tops wear a hazy look This Indian summer day;The voices of the crystal brook,Creeping along each pebbly nook, The inner senses sway. 36 On everything a dreamy haze Is resting like a veil;The idle oxen cease to , in a kind of sleepy maze, They roam the pasture dale. ? My mother says, Your tasks perform With careful hands and fast,And as the day is bright and warm,Well go beyond the upper farmTo get our winters mast. O joy ! the nimble fingers fly, The work is soon complete;We call her in with gladsome cryTo see and praise our industry,That wrought the toil so fleet. We climb the stony brook side path
Size: 1855px × 1348px
Photo credit: © The Reading Room / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No
Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1900, bookidpoems00chaa, bookyear1900
