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Pahina 34 - The rocks proclaim th' approaching Deity. Lo, Earth receives him from the bending skies! Sink down, ye mountains! and ye valleys, rise! With heads declined, ye cedars, homage pay! Be smooth, ye rocks! ye rapid floods, give way! The Saviour comes! by ancient bards foretold: Hear him, ye deaf! and all ye blind, behold!
Pahina 227 - GIRDLE. That which her slender waist confined, Shall now my joyful temples bind ; No monarch but would give his crown His arms might do what this has done. It was my heaven's extremest sphere, The pale which held that lovely deer, My joy, my grief, my hope, my love, Did all within this circle move. A narrow compass, and yet there Dwelt all that's good and all that's fair; Give me but what this ribband bound, Take all the rest the sun goes round.
Pahina 39 - Teach me to feel another's woe, To hide the fault I see ; That mercy I to others show, That mercy show to me.
Pahina 39 - Let not this weak unknowing hand Presume Thy bolts to throw, And deal damnation round the land, On each I judge Thy foe. If I am right, Thy grace impart Still in the right to stay ; If I am wrong, oh, teach my heart To find that better way...
Pahina 33 - Aonian maids, Delight no more — O Thou my voice inspire Who touch'd Isaiah's hallow'd lips with fire! Rapt into future times the bard begun: A Virgin shall conceive — a Virgin bear a Son ! From Jesse's root behold a Branch arise Whose sacred flower with fragrance fills the skies: Th' Ethereal Spirit o'er its leaves shall move, And on its top descends the mystic Dove.
Pahina 31 - His praise, ye Winds, that from four quarters blow, Breathe soft or loud ; and, wave your tops, ye Pines, With every plant, in sign of worship wave. Fountains, and ye that warble, as ye flow, Melodious murmurs, warbling tune his praise.
Pahina 63 - Has made my cup run o'er, And in a kind and faithful friend Has doubled all my store.
Pahina 64 - Ten thousand thousand precious gifts My daily thanks employ ; Nor is the least a cheerful heart, That tastes those gifts with joy.
Pahina 30 - Fairest of stars, last in the train of night, If better thou belong not to the dawn, Sure pledge of day, that crown'st the smiling morn With thy bright circlet, praise Him in thy sphere, While day arises, that sweet hour of prime.
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