The British Poets: Including Translations ...

C. Whittingham, 1822

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Seite 253 - Our vows, our prayers, we now present Before thy throne of grace : God of our fathers ! be the God Of their succeeding race. 3 Through each perplexing path of life Our wandering footsteps guide ; Give us each day our daily bread, And raiment fit provide. 4- O spread thy covering wings around, Till all our wanderings cease, And at our Father's loved abode, Our souls arrive in peace.
Seite 258 - She guides the young, with innocence, In pleasure's path to tread ; A crown of glory she bestows Upon the hoary head.
Seite 105 - I hate that drum's discordant sound, Parading round, and round, and round: To me it talks of ravaged plains, And burning towns, and ruined swains, And mangled limbs, and dying groans, And widows' tears, and orphans' moans; And all that Misery's hand bestows.
Seite 255 - Anew shall deck the plain ; The woods shall hear the voice of Spring, And flourish green again.
Seite 212 - Sweet bird ! thy bower is ever green, Thy sky is ever clear ; Thou hast no sorrow in thy song, No winter in thy year...
Seite 232 - They sought him all the forest thorough : They only saw the cloud of night, They only heard the roar of Yarrow. No longer from thy window look: Thou hast no son, thou tender mother ; No longer walk, thou lovely maid : Alas ! thou hast no more a brother. No longer seek him east or west, And search no more the forest thorough ; For, wandering in the night so dark, He fell, a lifeless corse, in Yarrow.
Seite 263 - WHERE high the heavenly temple stands, The house of God not made with hands, A great High Priest our nature wears, The guardian of mankind appears.
Seite 211 - HAIL, beauteous stranger of the grove ! Thou messenger of Spring! Now heaven repairs thy rural seat, And woods thy welcome sing. What time the daisy decks the green, Thy certain voice we hear; Hast thou a star to guide thy path, Or mark the rolling year? Delightful visitant! with thee I hail the time of flowers, And hear the sound of music sweet From birds among the bowers.
Seite 264 - In every pang that rends the heart, The Man of Sorrows had a part ; He sympathizes with our grief, And to the sufferer sends relief. With boldness, therefore, at the throne, Let us make all our sorrows known, And ask the aids of heavenly power To help us in the evil hour.
Seite 254 - FEW are thy days and full of woe, O man of woman born ! Thy doom is written, ' Dust thou art, And shalt to dust return.

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