Fairest and best adorned is she Whose clothing is humility.
Blue thou art, intensely blue; Flower, whence came thy dazzling hue?
Prayer is the soul's sincere desire, Uttered or unexpressed, The motion of a hidden fire That trembles in the breast. Prayer is the burden of a sigh, The falling of a tear, The upward glancing of an eye When none but God is near.
There is a flower, a little flower With silver crest and golden eye, That welcomes every changing hour, And weathers every sky.
Baptize the nations! far and nigh,The triumphs of the cross recordThe name of Jesus glorify,Till every people call Him Lord.
Yet nightly pitch my moving tent, a day's march nearer home.
We fought the Revolutionary War for no taxation without representation, it seems to me that we are much worse off today, because we are heavily taxed, and only the king's corporations control this Country, together with mob rule, of the special interests.
Here hyacinths of heavenly blue, shook their rich tresses to the morn.
The tulip's petals shine in dew, All beautiful, but none alike.
Bliss in possession will not last; Remembered joys are never past.
Joys too exquisite to last, And yet more exquisite when past.
Beyond this vale of tears there is a life above. unmeasured by the flight of years; and all that life is love.
The Dove, on silver pinions, winged her peaceful way.
Who that hath ever been Could bear to be no more? Yet who would tread again the scene He trod through life before?
The Dead are like the stars by day; Withdrawn from mortal eye, But not extinct, they hold their way In glory through the sky.
To-morrow — oh, 'twill never be, If we should live a thousand years! Our time is all to-day, to-day, The same, though changed; and while it flies With still small voice the moments say: "To-day, to-day, be wise, be wise.
Eagle of flowers! I see thee stand, And on the sun's noon-glory gaze; With eye like his, thy lids expand, And fringe their disk with golden rays: Though fix'd on earth, in darkness rooted there, Light is thy element, thy dwelling air, Thy prospect heaven.
There is a world above, Where parting is unknown; A whole eternity of love, Form'd for the good alone; And faith beholds the dying here Translated to that happier sphere.
Gashed with honourable scars,Low in Glory's lap they lie;Though they fell, they fell like stars,Streaming splendour through the sky.
Night is the time to weep,To wet with unseen tearsThose graves of memory where sleepThe joys of other years.
A mother's love — how sweet the name! What is a mother's love? — A noble, pure and tender flame, Enkindled from above, To bless a heart of earthly mould; The warmest love that can grow cold; This is a mother's love.
Prayer moves the arm Which moves the world, And brings salvation down.
Eternity: a moment standing still for ever.
Dark-green and gemm'd with flowers of snow, With close uncrowded branches spread Not proudly high, nor meanly low, A graceful myrtle rear'd its head.
Two roses on one slender spray In sweet communion grew, Together hailed the morning ray And drank the evening dew.
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