Church poetry : or, Christian thoughts in old and modern verse . ul years came on,To scenes of early peace he fled ;To soothe in wanderings sweet and lone,A harassed mind and fevered head. Here too full oft in drooping years,When nature told her solemn close,Sweetly he calmed his dying fears,And joyed in pietys repose :Then much he spake of cheerful days,How many twas his lot to have ;But most, how blest religions waysCheered all his journey to the grave. And his had been a favoured course—A path with many a garland strowed ;For well he braved this rough worlds force,And when it smiled, still
Church poetry : or, Christian thoughts in old and modern verse . ul years came on,To scenes of early peace he fled ;To soothe in wanderings sweet and lone,A harassed mind and fevered head. Here too full oft in drooping years,When nature told her solemn close,Sweetly he calmed his dying fears,And joyed in pietys repose :Then much he spake of cheerful days,How many twas his lot to have ;But most, how blest religions waysCheered all his journey to the grave. And his had been a favoured course—A path with many a garland strowed ;For well he braved this rough worlds force,And when it smiled, still thought on God: MEMORIALS. 323 Like some light skiff upon the wave,All beauty, in a tranquil sea ;Yet when the billows work and rave,Mounts oer the breakers gallantly. So each good man, whose heart is lightWhen early suns lifes morn illume,Frets least when day doth set in night,Nor darkens much with natures gloom ;For heaven first put that light withinWhich shone from out his honest breast;His conscience parleys not with sin,And therefore tis he is so INDEX. A churchyard with a cloister running round . A shady seat by some cool mossy spring . Again, O Lord, I ope mine eyes Again the mornings brightness calls Ah ! what time wilt Thou come ? when shall that cry Page 226 94 189 185 247 7 And is it even thus ? Are these the wordsAnd though some impious wits do questions move 273 11926928112241182 And while the face of outward things we findAngels, thy old friends, there shall greet theeAs men from men ....As oer the past my memory strays .As withereth the primrose by the riverAwake, my soul ! awake, mine eyes ! Because the world might not pretendBehold, we come, dear Lord, to TheeBelieve not that your inner eyeBut how should we be glad ?But know we not that he, who intermitsBut that Thou art my wisdom, LordBut with no sense the garden does complyBy laughing hours and broidered meads, Ff . 109. 181. 172. 127. 66. 137. 19. 12 INDEX. PageCan I, who have for others oft compil
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1840, booksubjectreligio, bookyear1848
