Not by the frost of winter was she driven But through a perfect gentleness, instead. Entered Him for that lovely excellence, Soar'd her clear spirit, waxing glad the while; May not imagine anything of her, He needs no bitter tears for his relief. And the desire to find no comforter, (Save only Death, who makes all sorrow brief,) To him who for a while turns in his thought How she hath been among us, and is not. With sighs my bosom always laboureth Of her for whom my heart now breaks apace; And very often when I think of death, Such a great inward longing comes to me That it will change the colour of my face; And, if the idea settles in its place, All my limbs shake as with an ague-fit; That I go forth, lest folks misdoubt of it. And calling on her, I am comforted.) Grief with its tears, and anguish with its sighs, So that I think the sight of me gives pain. And so, dear ladies, though my heart were fain, All joy is with my bitter life at war; Yea, I am fallen so far That all men seem to say, "Go out from us," A gentle thought there is will often start, Also of love it speaks so tenderly That much in me consents and takes its part. And speaketh but his words, from him received; It draweth from the gentle eyes of her Who, looking on our grief, hath often grieved." MY AIN COUNTREE MARY LEE DEMAREST "But now they desire a better country, that is, an heavenly." I'm far frae my hame, and I'm weary aftenwhiles, For the langed-for hame-bringing and my father's welcome smiles; I'll ne'er be fu' content, until my een doth see The shining gates o' heaven and my ain countree. The earth is flecked wi' flowers, mony-tinted fresh an' gay, The birdies warble blythely, for my father made them sae; But these sights and these sounds will as naething be to me, When I hear the angels singing in my ain countree. I've his gude word of promise that some gladsome day the King The King in his beauty in our ain countree. My sins hae been mony, an' my sorrows hae been sair, Like a bairn to its mither, a wee birdie to its nest, He is faithfu' that hath promised, he'll surely come again, So I'm watchin' aye, an' singin' o' my hame as I wait, CHARTLESS EMILY DICKINSON I never saw a moor I never saw the sea Yet know I what the heather is like And what a wave must be. I never talked with God, I never visited in heaven THE CHILD'S QUESTION EMILY DICKINSON Will there really be a morning? Has it feet like water-lilies? Does it come from famous countries Oh, some scholar, Oh, some sailor, Where the place called morning lies? O PARADISE! O PARADISE! O Paradise! FREDERICK WILLIAM FABER O Paradise! Who doth not crave for rest? Who would not seek the happy land, All rapture through and through, O Paradise! O Paradise! The world is growing old; Who would not be at rest and free Where love is never cold; Where loyal hearts and true All rapture through and through, O Paradise! O Paradise! I want to sin no more; All rapture through and through, Lord Jesus, Light of Paradise, Shine on my whole life long, VISION OF THE DAY OF JUDGMENT ISAIAH, CHAP. LXIII From Moulton's Modern Reader's Bible (Chorus of Watchmen) Who is this that cometh from Edom, With crimsoned garments from Bozrah? This that is glorious in his apparel, Marching in the greatness of his strength? (He who cometh) I that speak in righteousness, Mighty to save. |