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adore angels arched magazines beams beauty behold blessed blest bliss blood breast breath bright clouds creeping song crown dark death delight didst divine dost doth dread e'en earth EDMUND WALLER eternal eyes fair fear fire flame flowers foes Francis Quarles frankincense GEORGE WITHER glorious glory golden grace grave grief hand happy hast hated bands hath heart heaven heavenly hell holy honour humble HYMN immortal King light live Lord mercy mighty mind morning mortal night o'er pain patience strong PATRICK CAREY poet praise Prayer of Jacob proud rage rich rise round sacred shade shalt shine showers sighs sight sing skies smiling song sorrow soul spirit spring stars streams sweet swelling band tears Thee thine things THOMAS FLATMAN THOMAS PARNELL Thou Thou art thought thousand throne thunder unto voice waves winds wings wound
Page 253 - The lonely mountains o'er, And the resounding shore, A voice of weeping heard and loud lament ; From haunted spring, and dale Edged with poplar pale, The parting Genius is with sighing sent ; With flower-inwoven tresses torn The Nymphs in twilight shade of tangled thickets mourn.
Page 250 - No war, or battle's sound Was heard the world around ; The idle spear and shield were high up hung ; The hooked chariot stood Unstained with hostile blood ; The trumpet spake not to the armed throng ; And kings sat still with awful eye, As if they surely knew their sovran Lord was by.
Page 256 - O Lord, thy slaughtered saints, whose bones Lie scattered on the Alpine mountains cold ; Even them who kept thy truth so pure of old, When all our fathers worshipped stocks and stones...
Page 145 - THE Son of God goes forth to war, A kingly crown to gain ; His blood-red banner streams afar : Who follows in his train ? Who best can drink his cup of woe, Triumphant over pain, Who patient bears his cross below — He follows in his train.
Page 251 - That the mighty Pan Was kindly come to live with them below ; Perhaps their loves, or else their sheep, Was all that did their silly thoughts so busy keep...
Page 180 - Prayer is the burden of a sigh ; The falling of a tear ; The upward glancing of an eye When none but God is near.
Page 33 - Should Fate command me to the farthest verge Of the green earth, to distant barbarous climes, Rivers unknown to song ; where first the Sun Gilds Indian mountains, or his setting beam Flames on the' Atlantic isles ; 'tis nought to me : Since God is ever present, ever felt, In the void waste as in the city full ; And where He vital breathes there must be joy.
Page 278 - My gazing soul would dwell an hour, And in those weaker glories spy Some shadows of eternity...