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Pagina 103 - There stands the messenger of truth: there stands The legate of the skies! — His theme divine, His office sacred, his credentials clear. By him the violated law speaks out Its thunders ; and by him, in strains as sweet As angels use, the gospel whispers peace.
Pagina 34 - 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.
Pagina 34 - The Oracles are dumb ; No voice or hideous hum Runs through the arched roof in words deceiving. Apollo from his shrine Can no more divine, With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos leaving : No nightly trance or breathed spell Inspires the pale-eyed priest from the prophetic cell.
Pagina 46 - GROW old along with me! The best is yet to be, The last of life, for which the first was made: Our times are in his hand Who saith, "A whole I planned, Youth shows but half; trust God: see all, nor be afraid!
Pagina 33 - gainst that season comes Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated, The bird of dawning singeth all night long...
Pagina 34 - It was the winter wild, While the Heaven-born Child All meanly wrapt in the rude manger lies ; Nature in awe to Him Had doffed her gaudy trim, With her great Master so to sympathize : It was no season then for her To wanton with the sun, her lusty paramour.
Pagina 285 - I SAY to thee, — do thou repeat To the first man thou mayest meet In lane, highway, or open street, — That he and we and all men move Under a canopy of love, As broad as the blue sky above ; That doubt and trouble, fear and pain, And anguish, all are shadows vain, That death itself shall not remain ; That weary deserts we may tread, A dreary labyrinth may thread, Through dark ways underground be led; Yet, if we will...
Pagina 35 - HEAP on more wood ! — the wind is chill ; But let it whistle as it will, We'll keep our Christmas merry still.
Pagina 36 - On Christmas eve the mass was sung ; That only night in all the year Saw the stoled priest the chalice rear. The damsel donned her kirtle sheen ; The hall was dressed with holly green ; Forth to the wood did merry men go, To gather in the mistletoe.
Pagina 188 - Which I wish to remark, And my language is plain, That for ways that are dark And for tricks that are vain, The heathen Chinee is peculiar, Which the same I would rise to explain.

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