 | Morning Songs |  |
23
THE CHIMING BELLS.
Ho! watchman, from yon belfry tower,
Ring out those bells to me!
And let my fancies catch the power,
That steals upon my soul each hour,
While chimes their melody.
Ring out those bells to me!
And let my fancies catch the power,
That steals upon my soul each hour,
While chimes their melody.
I love to hear those chiming bells:
To me, their music clear,
Time after time, strange stories tell,
And oft they ring the parting knell,
Of friends and kinsmen dear.
To me, their music clear,
Time after time, strange stories tell,
And oft they ring the parting knell,
Of friends and kinsmen dear.
And oft when at the alter stood,
The modest bride, the groom,
Sweet echoes filled the vernal wood;
Where giant oak and elm trees stood,
While zephers shook their plumes.
The modest bride, the groom,
Sweet echoes filled the vernal wood;
Where giant oak and elm trees stood,
While zephers shook their plumes.
I love their sweet melodious chime,
It wakes my sleeping soul;
They bear good news from heavenly clime.
It cheers the heart, uplifts the mind,
When e'er those bells doth toll.
It wakes my sleeping soul;
They bear good news from heavenly clime.
It cheers the heart, uplifts the mind,
When e'er those bells doth toll.
24
I love to hear their medley sound,
Swell on the sabbath morn:
Their music from yon tower, sinks down,
Into my heart with joy profound,
And banish cares forlorn.
Swell on the sabbath morn:
Their music from yon tower, sinks down,
Into my heart with joy profound,
And banish cares forlorn.
Ofttimes in peace and quiet bliss,
The raptured music falls,
My soul craves for the parting kiss,
And yearns to break that vale of mist,
Which binds her like a thrall.
The raptured music falls,
My soul craves for the parting kiss,
And yearns to break that vale of mist,
Which binds her like a thrall.
They swell with music sweet and clear,
Upon each mortal's breast;
Our doom advances near and near,
Those bells shall ring year after year,
When we are laid to rest.
Upon each mortal's breast;
Our doom advances near and near,
Those bells shall ring year after year,
When we are laid to rest.
Ho! watchman, ring those bells to me!
And let their music fall,
With chime and glee, o'er land, o'er sea,
In blissful peace to all.
And let their music fall,
With chime and glee, o'er land, o'er sea,
In blissful peace to all.
| Morning Songs | |