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Nacoochee ; or, the beautiful star, with other Poems

Chivers, T. H. (1809-1858)

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DEDICATED TO MY PRECIOUS MOTHER,
  
TO IDEALON.
  
NACOOCHEE;
  
THE DEATH OF TIME.
  
THE SOARING SWAN,
  
THE LAST WRECK.
  
HOLY LOVE.
  
THE DYING POET.
  
THE DYING DOVE.
  
THE DYING BEAUTY.
  
TO A CHINA TREE,
  
TO MY MOTHER.
  
EVENING.
  
MAN'S LIFE.
  
THE VOICE OF THE EXILE
  
SONG OF ADORATION TO GOD.
  
FAITH.
  
SACRED SONG.
  
MORNING HYMN.
  
EVENING HYMN.
  
HYMN TO THE DEITY.
  
DRINK AND AWAY.
  
SONG OF THE DYING SOLDIER.
  
TO INEZ DE GEORGIA,
  
SONG.
  
TO LITTLE LIZA IN HEAVEN.
  
THE MOTHER'S LAMENT.
  
BURIAL OF THE INDIAN CHILD.
  
[SONG. With my head upon thy breast]
  
THE HARPER.
  
[SONG. Come take all my jewels and lie down, my dove]
  
[SONG. Oh! come away, my gentle one]
  
[SONG. Blessed of heaven! thy home shall be]
  
TO MY MOTHER.
  
THE DYING POET TO HIS CHILD.
  
ODE TO THE MISSISSIPPI.
  
TO IRENE.
  
THE MOTHER CHIDING HER FIRST BORN.
  
[SONG. Tell him that days are past]
  
[SONG. Tell her she need not weep]
  
TO MY MOTHER.
  
HYMN TO DEATH.
  
TO MY SISTER,
  
[SONG. Though the rose of my Eden is blasted]
  
BREATHINGS OF THE SOUL.
  
STANZAS FOR MUSIC.
  
SONG OF THE POET TO HIS HARP.
  
SONG OF THE MAIDS OF TEXAS.
  
THE MOTHER'S SONG
  
NEAH-EMATHLAH.
  
TO MY HARP.
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MALAVOLTI;
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III.
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IV.
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V.
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VII.
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VIII.
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IX.
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X.
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XI.
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XIII.
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XV.
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XVIII.
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XIX.
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XX.
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XXI.
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XXIII.
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XXVI.
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XXVII.
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XXVIII.
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XXIX.
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XXX.
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XXXI.
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XXXII.
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XXXIII.

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70

HYMN TO THE DEITY.

Heal me, O Lord, and I shall be healed: and save me, and I shall be saved: for thou art my praise.— Jeremiah, 17: 14.

Lord! let the rivers of thy love
Pour out upon me from above!
Let the bright waves of glory roll
Around the sanctuary of my soul!
Let not the island-clouds that lie
On the pavilion of the sky,
Gather around thy dwelling-place,
And hide the glory of thy face!
Thou art upon the raging seas,
And on the whispers of the breeze;
And in the lightnings of the sky,
And in the firmament on high!
Thou art upon the mighty hills,
And in the music of the rills;
And in the whirlwinds of the sea,
And in the voice that speaks to thee!
Thou art upon the darkest night,
And in the brightest of the light;
And in the place where none can dwell—
For thou art in the depths of hell!
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Thy foot-prints are the stars of even
To lead my spirit up to heaven!
And every grain of sand must see
The truth of it as well as me.
For, in the silence of thy voice,
The very thunders doth rejoice!
And even the meekness of thy might
Is greater than the solar light!
Thus seeing that thy home is here,
And feeling that thy voice is near;
And knowing what thy strength must be,—
I offer up my prayer to thee!
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