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Seite 377 - I am lord of the fowl and the brute. 0 solitude ! where are the charms That sages have seen in thy face ? Better dwell in the midst of alarms, Than reign in this horrible place. 1 am out of humanity's reach, I must finish my journey alone, Never hear the sweet music of speech, — I start at the sound of my own. The beasts that roam over the plain My form with indifference see, They are so unacquainted with man, Their tameness is shocking to me.
Seite 487 - I seem to have lived my childhood o'er again ; To have renew'd the joys that once were mine, Without the sin of violating thine ; And, while the wings of fancy still are free, And I can view this mimic show of thee, Time has but half succeeded in his theft, — Thyself removed, thy power to soothe me left.
Seite 539 - Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take, The clouds ye so much dread Are big with mercy, and shall break In blessings on your head. Judge not the Lord by feeble sense, But trust him for his grace: Behind a frowning providence He hides a smiling face. His purposes will ripen fast, Unfolding every hour ; The bud may have a bitter taste, But sweet will be the flower.
Seite 524 - E'er since, by faith, I saw the stream Thy flowing wounds supply, Redeeming love has been my theme, And shall be till I die.
Seite 392 - Tramples on a thousand states, Soon her pride shall kiss the ground, — Hark ! the Gaul is at her gates. " Other Romans shall arise, Heedless of a soldier's name, Sounds, not arms, shall win the prize, Harmony the path to fame.
Seite 164 - Nor rural sights alone, but rural sounds, Exhilarate the spirit, and restore The tone of languid Nature. Mighty winds, That sweep the skirt of some far-spreading wood Of ancient growth, make music not unlike The dash of ocean on his winding shore, And lull the spirit while they fill the mind ; Unnumber'd branches waving in the blast, And all their leaves fast fluttering, all at once.
Seite 49 - She never heard of half a mile from home : He lost in errors his vain heart prefers, She safe in the simplicity of hers.
Seite 183 - Then what is man? And what man, seeing this And having human feelings, does not blush, And hang his head, to think himself a man?
Seite 300 - One song employs all nations ; and all cry, " Worthy the Lamb, for he was slain for us !" The dwellers in the vales and on the rocks Shout to each other, and the mountain tops From distant mountains catch the flying joy ; Till, nation after nation taught the strain, Earth rolls the rapturous hosanna round.
Seite 192 - 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 340 Its thunders, and by him, in strains as sweet As angels use, the Gospel whispers peace.