A gallery of famous English and American poets . ; the long-drawn every close, the lingering strain now the tubes a softened stop controls;In softer harmony the people join,While liquid whispers from yon orphan bandRecall the soul from adorations fill the eye with pitys gentle the organ-peal, loud, rolling, meets 220 GRAHAM !•;. The hallelujahs of the choir. SublimeA thousand notes symphoniously ascend,As if the whole were one, suspended highIn air, soarinsr heavenward : afar thev float,Wafting glad tidino-s to the sick mans couch :Raised on his arm


A gallery of famous English and American poets . ; the long-drawn every close, the lingering strain now the tubes a softened stop controls;In softer harmony the people join,While liquid whispers from yon orphan bandRecall the soul from adorations fill the eye with pitys gentle the organ-peal, loud, rolling, meets 220 GRAHAM !•;. The hallelujahs of the choir. SublimeA thousand notes symphoniously ascend,As if the whole were one, suspended highIn air, soarinsr heavenward : afar thev float,Wafting glad tidino-s to the sick mans couch :Raised on his arm, he lists the cadence close,Yet thinks he hears it still; his heart is cheered;He smiles on death; but, ah ! a wish will rise—Would I were now beneath that echoing roof!No lukewarm accents from mj lips should flow ;My heart would sing; and many a Sabbath-dayMy steps should thither turn ; or, wandering farIn solitary paths, where wild flowers would I bless His name who led me forthFrom deaths dark vale, to walk amid those sweets-. THE SABBATH. 221 Who gives the bloom of health once more to glowUpon this cheek, and lights this languid eye. It is not only in the sacred faneThat homage should be paid to the Most High :There is a temple, one not made with hands,—The vaulted firmament. Far in the woods,Almost beyond the sound of city chime,At intervals heard through the breezeless air;When not the limberest leaf is seen to move,Save where the linnet lights upon the spray;Where not a flowret bends its little stalk,Save when the bee alights upon the bloom—There, rapt in gratitude, in joy, and love,The man of God will pass the Sabbath noon ;Silence his praise : his disembodied from the load of words, will high ascendBeyond the empyreal. Nor yet less pleasing at the heavenly throne,The Sabbath service of the shepherd boy!In some lone glen, where every sound is lulledTo slumber, save the tinkling of the rill,Or bleat of lamb, or hovering falcons


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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1870, booksu, booksubjectenglishpoetry