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Page 105 - Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord: He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored; He hath loosed the fateful lightning of his terrible swift sword: His truth is marching on.
Page 445 - WHEN a deed is done for Freedom, through the broad earth's aching breast Runs a thrill of joy prophetic, trembling on from east to west, And the slave, where'er he cowers, feels the soul within him climb To the awful verge of manhood, as the energy sublime Of a century bursts full-blossomed on the thorny stem of Time.
Page 445 - Once to every man and nation comes the moment to decide, In the strife of Truth with Falsehood, for the good or evil side ; Some great cause, God's new Messiah, offering each the bloom or blight, Parts the goats upon the left hand, and the sheep upon the right, And the choice goes by forever 'twixt that darkness and that light.
Page 405 - But there is a road from Winchester town, A good broad highway leading down ; And there, through the flush of the morning light, A steed as black as the steeds of night, Was seen to pass, as with eagle flight...
Page 251 - WHEN I can read my title clear To mansions in the skies, I'll bid farewell to every fear, And wipe my weeping eyes.
Page 260 - I AM monarch of all I survey, My right there is none to dispute ; From the centre all round to the sea I am lord of the fowl and the brute.
Page 260 - How fleet is a glance of the mind ! Compared with the speed of its flight, The tempest itself lags behind, And the swift-winged arrows of light. When I think of my own native land, In a moment I seem to be there; But alas! recollection at hand Soon hurries me back to despair.
Page 446 - New occasions teach new duties; Time makes ancient good uncouth; They must upward still, and onward, who would keep abreast of Truth ; Lo, before us gleam her camp-fires ! we ourselves must Pilgrims be, Launch our Mayflower, and steer boldly through the desperate winter sea, Nor attempt the Future's portal with the Past's bloodrusted key.
Page 260 - Oh, had I the wings of a dove, How soon would I taste you again ! My sorrows I then might assuage In the ways of religion and truth ; Might learn from the wisdom of age, And be cheer'd by the sallies of youth...
Page 84 - Except now and then a stray picket Is shot as he walks on his beat, to and fro, By a rifleman hid in the thicket. 'Tis nothing — a private or two, now and then, Will not count in the news of the battle ; Not an officer lost — only one of the men, Moaning out, all alone, the death rattle." All quiet along the Potomac...