JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. Yet not the lightest tone was heard A joy not angel tongues could tell, O, what is silence here below? The fruit of a concealed despair; The pause of pain, the dream of woe;It is the rest of rapture there. And to the way worn pilgrim here, More kindred seems that perfect peace, Than the full chants of joy to hear Roll on, and never, never cease. From earthly agonies set free, Tired with the path too slowly trod, May such a silence welcome me Into the palace of my God. JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. [U. S. A., 1767-1848.] TO A BEREAVED MOTHER. SURE, to the mansions of the blest When infant innocence ascends, Some angel, brighter than the rest, The spotless spirit's flight attends. On wings of ecstasy they rise, Beyond where worlds material roll, Till some fair sister of the skies Receives the unpolluted soul. With dust united at our birth, Has quenched the radiance of the flame; Back to its God the living fire Reverts, unclouded as it came. Fond mourner! be that solace thine! Let Hope her healing charm impart, And soothe, with melodies divine, The anguish of a mother's heart. In darkness as in light, Hidden auce from new, I dikep, I wake, na in his night Who looks all nature through All that I am, have been, All that I yet may be, He sees at once, as he hath seen, And shall forever see. "Forever with the Lord": Father, if 't is thy will, The promise of that faithful word Unto thy child fulfil! So, when my latest breath Shall rend the veil in twain, By death I shall escape from death, And life eternal gain. PRAYER. PRAYER is the soul's sincere desire The motion of a hidden fire Prayer is the burden of a sigh, The falling of a tear; The upward glancing of an eye, When none but God is near. Prayer is the simplest form of speech Praver is the Christian's vital breath, Praver is the contrite sinner's voice 0 Phou, by whom we come to God, HELEN MARIA WILLIAMS. [1762-1827.] WHILST THEE I SEEK. WHILST Thee I seek, protecting Power, Thy love the power of thought bestowed; In each event of life, how clear In every joy that crowns my days, My heart shall find delight in praise, N HEA e sk zing JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. -TALTER SAVAGE CATECH. Yet not the lightest tone was begerd A joy not angel tongues ecclt me, The peace of God in sulliness fell The fruit of a occealed des And to the wayworn piim here, More kindred seems was perfect peace, From earthly agcntes set free Tired with the path too slowly trad, JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. [J. S Any 1767-1848-1 TO A BEREAVED MOTHER. With dust united at our birth, But when the Lord of mortal breath Degrees his bounty to resume, WALTER SAVAN LANGL LAMENT For reasons not to love lince sougat. To vex myself and um te My love, could be 'Twas rain. n borcunu I waste forum mer And this forn With stifling heat, heaviestDUNIA SAUR, And waking the Tears that had melted his soft Learn: years Wept he as arter ears. atest d, Hasquenched the radiance of the flame; Quieter is his breath, is breast nore coid ar Yet, prophet-like, that lone one stood, Go, Sun, while mercy holds me up To drink this last and bitter cup Of grief that man shall taste, Go, tell the night that hides thy face, Saying, We are twins in death, proud Sun! Thou saw'st the last of Adam's race, Thy face is cold, thy race is run, "T is Mercy bids thee go; For thou ten thousand thousand years Hast seen the tide of human tears, That shall no longer flow. What though beneath thee man put forth Yet mourn I not thy parted sway, For all those trophied arts And triumphs that beneath thee sprang, Healed not a passion or a pang Entailed on human hearts. Go, let oblivion's curtain fall Nor with thy rising beams recall On earth's sepulchral clod, The darkening universe defy To quench his immortality, Or shake his trust in God! did seem: LORD ULLIN'S DAUGHTER. 139 A CHIEFTAIN, to the Highlands bound, "Now who be ye, would cross Lochgyle, "And fast before her father's men Three days we've fled together, For should he find us in the glen, My blood would stain the heather. "His horsemen hard behind us ride; Should they our steps discover, Then who will cheer my bonny bride When they have slain her lover?" Out spoke the hardy Highland wight: "And by my word! the bonny bird In danger shall not tarry: Glenara! Glenara! now read me my So, though the waves are raging white, dream!" I'll row you o'er the ferry.' |