The angels sang for holy mirth;
Not God himself was sad!
Shall we, when ours goes homeward, fret?
Come, Hope, and wait on Sorrow!
The little one will not forget;
It’s only till to-morrow!
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Love alone is great in might,
Smooths rough ways to weary feet,Makes the bitter morsel sweet:Love alone is strength!Might that is not born of LoveIs not Might born from above,Has its birthplace down belowWhere they neither reap nor sow:Love alone is strength!Love is stronger than all force,Is its own eternal source;Might is always in decay,Love grows fresher every day:Love alone is…
A little bird sat on the edge of her nest;
Day-long she had worked almost without rest,And had filled every one of their gibbous crops;Her own she had filled just over-full,And she felt like a dead bird stuffed with wool.‘Oh dear!’ she sighed, as she sat with her headSunk in her chest, and no neck at all,Looking like an apple on a feather-bedPoked and rounded…
I.
A glory in the brain!Triumphant floods of glory fallOn heath, and wold, and plain.Earth lieth still in hopeless bliss;She has, and seeks no more;Forgets that days come after this,Forgets the days before.Each ripple waves a flickering fireOf gladness, as it runs;They laugh and flash, and leap and spire,And toss ten thousand suns.But hark! low, in…
Lord Jesus,
Of Self that oppresses,Annoys and distressesBody and brainWith dull pain!Thou never,Since ever,Save one moment only,Wast left, or wast lonely:We are alone,And make moan.Far parted,Dull-hearted,We wander, sleep-walking,Mere shadows, dim-stalking:Orphans we roam,Far from home.Oh new man,Sole human,God’s son, and our brother,Give each to the other-No one left outIn cold doubt!High Father,Oh gatherThy sons and thy daughters,Through fires…
Were I a skilful painter,
Should try to teach thee hope and fear,And who would blame me then?-Fear of the tide of darknessThat floweth fast behind,And hope to make thee journey onIn the journey of the mind.Were I a skilful painter,What should I paint for thee?-A tiny spring-bud peeping outFrom a withered wintry tree;The warm blue sky of summerO’er jagged…
There was an auld fisher, he sat by the wa’,
The bairnies war playin, he smil’t on them a’,But the tear stude in his e’e.An’ it’s-oh to win awa, awa!An’ it’s, oh to win awaWhaur the bairns come hame, an’ the wives they bide,An’ God is the father o’ a’!Jocky an’ Jeamy an’ Tammy oot thereA’ i’ the boatie gaed doon;An’ I’m ower auld to…