Armstrong Browning Library | 19th Century Women Poets |
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(52) Not to the cedar shade Let his vain flight be made ; Nor the old mountains, nor the desert sea; What, but the cross, can yield The hope—the stay—the shield ? Thence may the Atoner lift him up to Thee! Be thou, be thou his aid! Oh ! let thy soul pervade The haunted caves of self-accusing thought! There let the living stone Be cleft—the seed be s o w n— The song of fountains from the silence brought! So shall thy breath once more Within the soul restore Thine own first image—Holiest and most High! As a clear lake is fill'd With hues of Heaven, instill'd D o w n to the depths of its calm purity. And if, amidst the throng Link'd by the ascending song, [soar ; There are, whose thoughts in trembling rapture Thanks, Father ! that the power Of joy, man's early dower, Thus, e'en midst tears, can fervently adore! Thanks for each gift divine ! Eternal praise be thine, Blessing and love, O Thou that hearest prayer! Let the h y m n pierce the sky, And let the tombs reply ! For seed, that waits the harvest-time is there
Title | The Poetical Works of Mrs. Felicia Hemans |
Creator | Felicia Hemans |
Date | 1854 |
Physical Description | 394 p., ill., port. 20 cm. |
Publisher | Boston: Phillips, Sampson, and Company, New York: James C. Derby, 1854 |
Resource Type | Text |
Call Number | PR4780.A1 1854c |
Identifier | pr4780_a1_1854c |
Language | English |
Custodian | Baylor University - Armstrong Browning Library |
Rights | http://www.baylor.edu/lib/digitization/digitalrights |
Digital Collection | 19th Century Women Poets Collection |
Note | Inscription on front endpaper: "Sarah C [Pur?] a present/from/her Father J B [Pur?]/Travis /55" and on prelim. leaf: "Sarah C. [Pur?]/Independence/Texas." |
Format | Books |
Title | Page 60 |
Resource Type | Text |
Rights | http://www.baylor.edu/lib/digitization/digitalrights |
Digital Collection | 19th Century Women Poets Collection |
Full Text | (52) Not to the cedar shade Let his vain flight be made ; Nor the old mountains, nor the desert sea; What, but the cross, can yield The hope—the stay—the shield ? Thence may the Atoner lift him up to Thee! Be thou, be thou his aid! Oh ! let thy soul pervade The haunted caves of self-accusing thought! There let the living stone Be cleft—the seed be s o w n— The song of fountains from the silence brought! So shall thy breath once more Within the soul restore Thine own first image—Holiest and most High! As a clear lake is fill'd With hues of Heaven, instill'd D o w n to the depths of its calm purity. And if, amidst the throng Link'd by the ascending song, [soar ; There are, whose thoughts in trembling rapture Thanks, Father ! that the power Of joy, man's early dower, Thus, e'en midst tears, can fervently adore! Thanks for each gift divine ! Eternal praise be thine, Blessing and love, O Thou that hearest prayer! Let the h y m n pierce the sky, And let the tombs reply ! For seed, that waits the harvest-time is there |
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