Lyric Gems: A Collection of Original and Select Sacred Poetry

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Samuel Francis Smith
Gould, Kendall & Lincoln, 1844 - Gift books - 128 pages

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Page 88 - Leaves have their time to fall, And flowers to wither at the north wind's breath, And stars to set — but all — Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death ! THE LOST PLEIAD.
Page 87 - Youth and the opening rose May look like things too glorious for decay, And smile at thee, — but thou art not of those That wait the ripened bloom to seize their prey. Leaves have their time to fall, And flowers to wither at the north-wind's breath, And stars to set, — but all, Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death!
Page 55 - Long have we roamed in want and pain, Long have we sought thy rest in vain ; Wildered in doubt, in darkness lost, Long have our souls been tempest-tost : Low at thy feet our sins we lay ; Turn not, O Lord, thy guests away.
Page 22 - Tribes of the wandering foot and weary breast, How shall ye flee away and be at rest! The wild-dove hath her nest, the fox his cave, Mankind their country — Israel but the grave ! ON JORDAN'S BANKS.
Page 117 - There is a day of sunny rest For every dark and troubled night; And grief may bide an evening guest, But joy shall come with early light. And thou who, o'er thy friend's low bier, Sheddest the bitter drops like rain, Hope that a brighter, happier sphere Will give him to thy arms again.
Page 60 - Lift the heart and bend the knee. Traveller, in the stranger's land, Far from thine own household band ; Mourner, haunted by the tone Of a voice from this world gone ; Captive, in whose narrow cell Sunshine hath not leave to dwell ; Sailor, on the darkening sea, Lift the heart and bend the knee.
Page 57 - And though Thy wisdom takes away, Shall I arraign Thy will? No, let me bless Thy name, and say
Page 87 - Death! We know when moons shall wane, When summer birds from far shall cross the sea, When autumn's hue shall tinge the golden grain But who shall teach us when to look for thee...
Page 47 - Breakers are round thee ; Let fall the plummet now, Shallows may ground thee. Reef in the foresail, there, — Hold the helm fast ; So — let the vessel wear ; There swept the blast. " What of the night, watchman ? What of the night?
Page 38 - And in the morning, rising up a great while before day, he went out and departed into a solitary place, and there prayed.

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