. Pine needles, or Sonnets and songs. With loVe, born of a sacrifice , conquering sin, oercoming sharp deaths anthem swells, the organs rich notes ring Throughout the grand old church. See, swift a birdFlits by the window on wide-stretchfed bending branches and leaves, the breeze has songsters shadow and the waving greenAre gainst the tinted glass beneath Christ seen. 66 II. Swifter than sparrows flight, my sore sins passBefore my saddened gaze ; they seem to reachFrom infancy to these last days, and teach A lesson unto earthly pride alas ! Thei
. Pine needles, or Sonnets and songs. With loVe, born of a sacrifice , conquering sin, oercoming sharp deaths anthem swells, the organs rich notes ring Throughout the grand old church. See, swift a birdFlits by the window on wide-stretchfed bending branches and leaves, the breeze has songsters shadow and the waving greenAre gainst the tinted glass beneath Christ seen. 66 II. Swifter than sparrows flight, my sore sins passBefore my saddened gaze ; they seem to reachFrom infancy to these last days, and teach A lesson unto earthly pride alas ! Their lengthy numbers dusk the glowing contrite humbleness in silence sick and hungering soul! the Holy Leech Who fed the wearied thousands on the grass Alone can satisfy thy longings wild, Blot out the memories of thy sins and pains. Methinks I hear the tender words : My me thy heart. And haste to lay my stains. Of heart and soul, and errors deemfed sWeet, In trembling hope and love at Christs pure feet. 67. In Trinity. 68 REST. O Angel! miscalled of darkness, in thy flightPause near my threshold, spread thy pinions oerMy drooping head. I need thy mercies art to me as distant friendly lightHailed on a pitchy nights lone tramp, and whiteThy dusky garments gleam to me from shoreOf untried waters, which oertake all lore,—All love,—all life at last. Angel of than hope, as strong as faith and love, Come to me. Joys goblet through weak fingers slips;Lay thy cool touch upon my fevered lips;Let thy soft shadow my sweet solace prove ;Oh ! let me lay my upon thy breast;Wearied, I long for thee. Angel of Rest. 69 Neer ask me to be mirthful and then rhyme,The pearls of song drop not from lips the time They bird with seared eye and clippM wingFinds sweeter note—so we through suffering Sing best. 71 SONG. The clouds are drifting,The sunHght sifting Adown birches quiverBeside the river, Silvery green. The West is
Size: 1418px × 1761px
Photo credit: © Reading Room 2020 / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No
Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1880, bookpublishernewyo, bookyear1884
