Poems; and Runnamede

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Page 94 - Though now ascended up on high, He bends on earth a brother's eye : Partaker of the human name, He knows the frailty of our frame.
Page 94 - WHERE high the heavenly temple stands, The house of God not made with hands, A great High Priest our nature wears, The guardian of mankind appears.
Page 1 - HAIL, beauteous stranger of the grove ! Thou messenger of spring ! Now heaven repairs thy rural seat, And woods thy welcome sing. Soon as the daisy decks the green, Thy certain voice we hear. Hast thou a star to guide thy path, Or mark the rolling year ? Delightful visitant ! with thee I hail the time of flowers, And hear the sound of music sweet From birds among the bowers.
Page 2 - TO THE CUCKOO. HAIL, beauteous stranger of the grove ! Thou messenger of Spring ! Now Heaven repairs thy rural seat, And woods thy welcome sing. What time the daisy decks the green, Thy certain voice...
Page 73 - Our vows, our prayers, we now present Before thy throne of grace : God of our fathers ! be the God Of their succeeding race.
Page 2 - The schoolboy, wandering through the wood To pull the primrose gay, Starts, the new voice of spring to hear, And imitates thy lay. What time the pea puts on the bloom, Thou fliest thy vocal vale, An annual guest in other lands, Another spring to hail. Sweet bird! thy bower is ever green, Thy sky is ever clear; Thou hast no sorrow in thy song, No winter in thy year!
Page 89 - And joyful from the mountains' tops Shout to the Lord the King ! Let all combined with one accord Jehovah's glories raise, Till in remotest bounds of earth The nations sound his praise.
Page 95 - Our fellow-sufferer yet retains A fellow-feeling of our pains; And still remembers in the skies His tears, His agonies, and cries. In every pang that rends the heart, The Man of Sorrows had a part; He sympathizes with our grief, And to the sufferer sends relief.
Page 70 - Their chequer'd leaves the branches shed, Whirling in eddies o'er my head, They sadly sigh, that Winter's near: The warning voice I hear behind, That shakes the wood without a wind, And solemn sounds the deatb.bell of the year.
Page 5 - No longer from thy window look — Thou hast no son, thou tender mother ! No longer walk, thou lovely maid ; Alas, thou hast no more a brother ! No longer seek him east or west And search no more the forest thorough ; For, wandering in the night so dark, He fell a lifeless corpse in Yarrow.

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