Ion Lester, by C.H.H.

Portada
1856

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Página 151 - Abide with me from morn till eve, For without Thee I cannot live ; Abide with me when night is nigh, For without Thee I dare not die.
Página 303 - I breathed a song into the air, It fell to earth, 1 knew not where; For who has sight so keen and strong, That it can follow the flight of song ? Long, long afterward, in an oak I found the arrow, still unbroke ; And the song, from beginning to end, I found again in the heart of a friend.
Página 9 - Peace; come away: the song of woe Is after all an earthly song: Peace; come away: we do him wrong To sing so wildly: let us go. Come; let us go: your cheeks are pale; But half my life I leave behind: Methinks my friend is richly shrined; But I shall pass; my work will fail.
Página 27 - To rest beneath the clover sod, That takes the sunshine and the rains, Or where the kneeling hamlet drains The chalice of the grapes of God...
Página 136 - Oh say not, dream not, heavenly notes To childish ears are vain, That the young mind at random floats, And cannot reach the strain. Dim or unheard, the words may fall, And yet the heaven-taught mind May learn the sacred air, and all The harmony unwind.
Página 251 - Ah ! that day of tears and mourning ! From the dust of earth returning, Man for judgment must prepare him ; Spare, O God, in mercy spare him ! Lord, Who didst our souls redeem, Grant a blessed Requiem. Amen.
Página 203 - I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet...
Página 114 - WHENE'ER goes forth Thy dread command, And my last hour is nigh, Lord, grant me in a Christian land As I was born, to die. I pray not, Lord, that friends may be Or kindred standing by, Choice blessing ! which I leave to Thee, To give me, or deny.
Página 191 - THE world's a room of sickness, where each heart Knows its own anguish and unrest ; The truest wisdom there, and noblest art, Is his who skills of comfort best ; Whom by the softest step and gentlest tone Enfeebled spirits own, And love to raise the languid eye, When, like an angel's wing, they feel him fleeting by...

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