A Library of Religious Poetry: A Collection of the Best Poems of All Ages and Tongues, with Biographical and Literary Notes
Philip Schaff, Arthur Gilman
Funk & Wagnalls Company, 1885 - Religious poetry - 1004 pages
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angels bear beneath blessed born breath bright bring child Christ Church clouds comes cross crown dark dear death deep died divine doth earth eternal eyes face fair faith fall Father fear feel feet flowers give glory God's grace hand happy hast hath head hear heard heart heaven heavenly holy hope hour hymn Jesus John keep King land leave light live look Lord morning never night o'er once pain passed peace poor praise pray prayer rest rise round Saviour seek shine sight sing sleep smile song sorrow soul sound spirit stand stars strength sweet tears tell thee thine things thou thou art thought throne Translated trust truth turn unto voice wait wandering watch weary wings
Page 213 - THE Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold; And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.
Page 174 - There was woman's fearless eye, Lit by her deep love's truth; There was manhood's brow serenely high, And the fiery heart of youth. What sought they thus afar? Bright jewels of the mine? The wealth of seas, the spoils of war? — They sought a faith's pure shrine. Ay, call it holy ground, — The soil where first they trod! They have left unstained what there they found — Freedom to worship God ! Felicia Hemans.
Page 612 - Other refuge have I none, Hangs my helpless soul on thee ; Leave, ah ! leave me not alone ; Still support and comfort me ! All my trust on thee is stayed, All my help from thee I bring ; Cover my defenceless head With the shadow of thy wing.
Page 247 - Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky, The flying cloud, the frosty light: The year is dying in the night; Ring out, wild bells, and let him die. Ring out the old, ring in the new, Ring, happy bells, across the snow: The year is going, let him go; Ring out the false, ring in the true. Ring out the grief that saps the mind, For those that here we see no more; Ring out the feud of rich and poor, Ring in redress to all mankind. Ring out a slowly dying cause, And ancient forms of party strife; Ring in...
Page 612 - Plenteous grace with thee is found, Grace to cover all my sin; Let the healing streams abound, Make and keep me pure within. Thou of life the fountain art; Freely let me take of thee; Spring thou up within my heart, Rise to all eternity.
Page 451 - Angels: for ye behold him, and with songs And choral symphonies, day without night Circle his throne rejoicing; ye in heaven, On earth join all ye creatures to extol Him first, him last, him midst, and without end. Fairest of stars, last in the train of night, If better thou belong not to the dawn, Sure pledge of day, that crown'st the smiling morn With thy bright circlet, praise him in thy sphere, While day arises, that sweet hour of prime.
Page 37 - Nor man nor boy, Nor all that is at enmity with joy, Can utterly abolish or destroy! Hence in a season of calm weather Though inland far we be. Our souls have sight of that immortal sea Which brought us hither; Can in a moment travel thither, And see the children sport upon the shore, And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore. Then sing, ye birds, sing, sing a joyous song!
Page 405 - With a bare bodkin ? who would fardels bear, To grunt and sweat under a weary life ; But that the dread of something after death, — The undiscovered country, from whose bourn No traveller returns, — puzzles the will ; And makes us rather bear those ills we have, Than fly to others that we know not of? Thus conscience does make cowards of us all...
Page 37 - The Clouds that gather round the setting sun Do take a sober coloring from an eye That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality ; Another race hath been, and other palms are won, Thanks to the human heart by which we live, Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears, To me the meanest flower that blows can give Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.
Page 444 - Milton ! thou should'st be living at this hour: England hath need of thee: she is a fen Of stagnant waters: altar, sword, and pen, Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower, Have forfeited their ancient English dower Of inward happiness. We are selfish men; Oh ! raise us up, return to us again; And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power.