Obrazy na stronie

'. Safe on these walls I sit, and stem
“ The elements that conquered them;
“ And high o'er reach of plundering foe
“ Smile on an anxious world below.

Though envied place I may not claim “ On warrior's crest, or lady's hair ; Though tongue may never speak my name,

“ Nor eye behold and own me fair ; To Him, who tends me from the sky, “ I spread my beauties here on high, « And bid the winds to waft above

“My incense to His throne of love.

“And though in hermit solitude,

“ Aloft and wild, my home I choose,
On the rock's bosom pillowed rude,
“And nurtured by the falling dews;

" Yet duly with the opening year I hang my golden mantle here. « A child of God's I am, and He

Sustains, and clothes, and shelters me.

“Nor deem my state without its bliss :

“ Mine is the first young smile of day; “ Mine the light zephyr's earliest kiss ;

“And mine the skylark's matin lay. “ These are my joys : with these on high In

peace I hope to live and die, “And drink the dew, and scent the breeze,

As blithe a flower as Flora sees."

Bloom on, sweet moralist! Be thine

The softest shower, the brightest sun! Long o'er a world of error shine,

And teach them what to seek and shun! Bloom on, and show the simple glee

That dwells with those who dwell like thee;

From noise, and glare, and folly driven,
To thought, retirement, peace, and heaven.

Shew them, in thine, the Christian's lot,

So dark and drear in worldly eyes; And yet he would exchange it not

For all they most pursue and prize. From meaner cares and trammels free, He soars above the world, like thee; And, fed and nurtured from above, Returns the debt in grateful love.

Frail, like thyself, fair flower, is he,

And beat by every storm and shower ; Yet on a Rock he stands, like thee,

And braves the tempest's wildest power.

And there he blooms, and gathers still
A good from every seeming ill ;
And, pleased with what his lot has given,
He lives to God, and looks to heaven.


WHEN earthly joys glide swift away,

When hopes and comforts flee, When foes beset, and friends betray,

I turn, my God, to Thee !

Thy nature, Lord, no change can know;

Thy promise still is sure ;
And ills can ne'er so hopeless grow

But Thou canst find a cure.

Deliverance comes most bright and blest

At danger's darkest hour; And man's extremity is best

To prove Almighty power.

« PoprzedniaDalej »