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American Unitarian Association angels beauty bend beneath bless blest born Boston breath bright Brooklyn calm Cambridge cheer Christ Christian Register cloud dark dead dear death Divinity School earth earthly edition eternal evermore eyes faith Father fear flowers friends gathered band give glad glorious glory glow God's grace graduated Harvard College hath hear heart heaven heavenly holy hope hour hymns immortal James Freeman Clarke Jesus labors Liberal Christian life's light live Lord Magazine Mass morning night North American Review o'er ordination pastor peace Phi Beta Kappa poems praise pray prayer published pure rest sacred Saviour shine sing skies sleep smile song sorrow soul stars strength sweet tears thee Theodore Parker thine thou art thou hast thought throne thy love thy word toil trust truth Unitarian Church Unitarian Society voice volume weary written youth
Стр. 220 - I have nought that is fair?" saith he; "Have nought but the bearded grain? Though the breath of these flowers is sweet to me, I will give them all back again." He gazed at the flowers with tearful eyes, He kissed their drooping leaves ; It was for the Lord of Paradise He bound them in his sheaves.
Стр. 255 - This is the ship of pearl, which, poets feign, Sails the unshadowed main, — The venturous bark that flings On the sweet summer wind its purpled wings In gulfs enchanted, where the siren sings, And coral reefs lie bare, Where the cold sea-maids rise to sun their streaming hair.
Стр. 224 - THERE is no flock, however watched and tended, But one dead lamb is there ! There is no fireside, howsoe'er defended, But has one vacant chair.
Стр. 221 - WHEN the hours of Day are numbered, And the voices of the Night Wake the better soul, that slumbered, To a holy, calm delight; Ere the evening lamps are lighted, And, like phantoms grim and tall, Shadows from the fitful fire-light Dance upon the parlor wall; Then the forms of the departed Enter at the open door; The beloved, the true-hearted, Come to visit me once more...
Стр. 219 - T*ELL me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream ! For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem. Life is real ! Life is earnest ! And the grave is not its goal ; Dust thou art, to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul.
Стр. 124 - Thou unrelenting Past! Strong are the barriers round thy dark domain, And fetters, sure and fast, Hold all that enter thy unbreathing reign. Far in thy realm withdrawn, Old empires sit in sullenness and gloom, And glorious ages gone Lie deep within the shadow of thy womb. Childhood, with all its mirth, Youth, Manhood, Age that draws us to the ground, And last, Man's Life on earth, 1 1 Glide to thy dim dominions, and are bound.
Стр. 223 - Were half the power that fills the world with terror. Were half the wealth bestowed on camps and courts, Given to redeem the human mind from error, There were no need of arsenals or forts.
Стр. 34 - THE Pilgrim Fathers, — where are they? The waves that brought them o'er Still roll in the bay, and throw their spray As they break along the shore; Still roll in the bay, as they rolled that day When the Mayflower moored below; When the sea around was black with storms, And white the shore with snow.
Стр. 215 - A mighty Fortress is our God, A Bulwark never failing; Our Helper He amid the flood Of mortal ills prevailing; For still our ancient foe Doth seek to work us woe; His craft and power are great, And, armed with cruel hate, On earth is not his equal.