LEVI FRISBIE
MORNING HYMN.
While nature welcomes in the day,
My heart its earliest vows would pay
To Him whose care hath kindly kept
My life from danger while I slept.
His genial rays the sun renews;
How bright the scene with glittering dews!
The blushing flowers more beauteous bloom,
And breathe more rich their sweet perfume.
So may the Sun of righteousness
With kindliest beams my bosom bless,
Warm into life each heavenly seed,
To bud and bear some generous deed.
So may the dews of grace distil
And gently soften all my will,
So may my morning sacrifice
To heaven a grateful incense rise.
Wilt Thou this day my footsteps guide,
And kindly all I need provide,
With strength divine my bosom arm
Against temptation's powerful charm.
Where'er I am, oh may I feel
That God is all around me still,
That all I say, or do, or mean;
By his all-searching eye is seen.
Oh may each day my heart improve,
Increase my faith, my hope, my love,
And thus its shades around me close
More wise and holy than I rose.
EVENING HYMN.
My soul, a hymn of evening praise
To God, thy kind preserver, raise,
Whose hand this day hath guarded, fed
And thousand blessings round me shed.
Forgive my sins this day, Oh Lord,
In thought or feeling, deed or word;
And if in aught thy law I've kept,
My feeble efforts Lord accept.
While nature round is hush'd to rest,
Let no vain thought disturb my breast;
Shed o'er my soul religion's power,
Serenely solemn as the hour.
Oh bid thy angels o'er me keep
Their watch to shield me while I sleep,
Till the fresh morn shall round me break,
Then with new vigor may I wake.
Yet think, my soul, another day
Of thy short course has roll'd away;
Ah think how soon in deepening shade
Thy day of life itself shall fade.
How soon death's sleep my eyes must close
Lock every sense in dread repose,
And lay me 'mid the awful gloom
And solemn silence of the tomb.
This very night, Lord, should it be,
Oh may my soul repose in thee,
Till the glad morn in heaven shall rise,
Then wake to triumph in the skies.
DREAM. TO ***
Stay, stay, sweet vision, do not leave me—
Soft sleep, still o'er my senses reign;
Stay, loveliest phantom, still deceive me;
Ah! let me dream that dream again.
Thy head was on my shoulder leaning;
Thy hand in mine was gently prest;
Thine eyes so soft and full of meaning,
Were bent on me and I was blest.
No word was spoken, all was feeling,
The silent transport of the heart;
The tear that o'er my cheek was stealing;
Told what words could ne'er impart.
And could this be but mere illusion?
Could fancy all so real seem?
Here fancy's scenes are wild confusion—
And can it be I did but dream.
I'm sure I felt thy forehead pressing,
Thy very breath stole o'er my cheek,
I'm sure I saw those eyes confessing
What the tongue could never speak.
Ah! no, 't is gone, 't is gone, and never
Mine such waking bliss can be;
Oh I would sleep, would sleep for ever,
Could I thus but dream of thee.
