Hail to the ever cheeringFirst,When slavery's iron shackles burst;Conduct, and notcolormustProve the worth of human dust.Thousandshail this hallowed day,Over the warm waves, far away,Where the tropic mountains rise,And summer never leaves the…
How beautiful, in morning's hour,
The blade of emerald green,
Whereupon the drops of pearly dew
In silver radiance gleam!
It seems as if it shadowed forth
The Christian's holy love:
For though of earth, it ever looks
Unto the sky above.
But…
THEY meet once more around the hearth
Within their quiet home,
Where 'mid their own sweet household mirth
Is heard no jarring tone.
The lamp sheds down its cheerful light
On youth and beauty there,
On manhood in his conscious might,
On woman,…
Leaves have their time to fall, And flowers to wither at the north wind’s breath, And stars to set; but all, Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death! Day is for mortal care,Eve, for glad meetings round the joyous hearth, Night, for the dreams of…
Haste thee, haste thee, hour divine,Joys extatic - bliss is thine,And raptures from the throne above -Sweeter those, than life to me,When the world and cares do flee;And Jesus speaks, in tones of love,O, time of prayer! O, hour divine! -Extatic joys…
"What is there sadd'ning in the Autumn leaves?"Have they that "green and yellow Melancholy"That the sweet poet spake of? - Had he seenOur variegated woods, when first the frostTurns into beauty all October's charms -When the dread fever quits us -…
"Come with us and we will do thee good." - NUM. x. 29. ------- OH! come with us, the mazy round
Of pleasure hath been tried,
And all her promised joy been found
To pain and guilt allied.
The varied stores of human lore
Have lost their power to…
The words went to thy heart! why were they new? -Long, long since was the title richly earn'd;Here is oppression's home - nor is her powerFelt only the injured, suffering slave;Among the free, the wealthy, whose who seemTo lead a happy life, are many…
Lament who will, in fruitless tears,
The speed with which our moments fly:
I sigh not over vanished years,
But watch the year that hastens by.
Look how they come! - a mingled crowd
Of bright and dark, but rabid days;
Beneath them, like a summer…
Slowly, with measured tread, Onward we bear the dead
To his long home.
Short grows the homeward road, On with your mortal load.
Oh, grave! we come.
Yet, yet - ah! hasten not Past each remembered spot
Where he hath been;
Where late he walked in…
