. The palace beautiful : and other poems . E PASTOR. Touclid by the gentle, melanclioly ray,Years, like a mist at morning, roll away,And, in the rising picture of the past,Self unto self is face to face at last. Once more, a child, I tread the village roundsAnd listen fondly to rememberd sounds ;Once more is echod from the fragrant dellThe measured ringing of the Sabbath bell;Once more I totter at my mothers sideAnd view my Sunday suit with guileless pride,While she in accents of instructive love,Leads my young fancy to the God above ;From the new flowr a wholesome moral the min
. The palace beautiful : and other poems . E PASTOR. Touclid by the gentle, melanclioly ray,Years, like a mist at morning, roll away,And, in the rising picture of the past,Self unto self is face to face at last. Once more, a child, I tread the village roundsAnd listen fondly to rememberd sounds ;Once more is echod from the fragrant dellThe measured ringing of the Sabbath bell;Once more I totter at my mothers sideAnd view my Sunday suit with guileless pride,While she in accents of instructive love,Leads my young fancy to the God above ;From the new flowr a wholesome moral the mind to natures perfect laws;From the new-gilded, swinging tavern signReads me the storied wickedness of wine ;Tells me—alas ! that it should make me start—My broken Sabbath is her broken heart. And now our humble country church is seen,The pride and landmark of the village green,Oft on the distant travlers sight it broke,Girt with a stately ancestry of oak ;Still to my view its whitend gables rise,Like an uplifted ark against the THE VILLAGE PASTOR. 97 High on a hill in lofty peace it stands,And all the vale for miles around commands,Wliere morns first sparkle quivers on its spireAnd the old dial marks an hour of its eaves the swallow builds her , with her brood, unhunted, finds a instinct taught to freely harbor there,Kor fear the men who come to kneel in prayr. We enter silently the holy softly tread the aisle with revrent pace ;No velvet cushions yawn for pamperd pictured windows glow, the rich to please;Smooth seats of pine receive the honest Gods own sunshine tints the crystal swarthy artisan, the son of toil,Who works in metals, and who tills the brothers meet within the sacred hall,The God they worship is the Lord of all,And He, petitiond oft, will well the darker as the whiter all alone these men devout appear,The village Squire and Doctor both are here ;While mo
Size: 1502px × 1663px
Photo credit: © Reading Room 2020 / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No
Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1860, bookpublishernewyo, bookyear1865
