 | Poems |  |
50
“ALL THY WORKS PRAISE THEE.”
I hear the distant city-bells
Clang their loud summons to Thy throne,
Along the wind their music swells,
And I am here—alone.
Clang their loud summons to Thy throne,
Along the wind their music swells,
And I am here—alone.
The glory of Thy faithful Spring
Makes for my heart an ardent prayer,
And for my psalm of fervor sing
The choristers of air.
Makes for my heart an ardent prayer,
And for my psalm of fervor sing
The choristers of air.
If any sermonist they need
Who read Thy word with faithful eyes,
Expositors my spirit feed,
Inspired from earth and skies.
Who read Thy word with faithful eyes,
Expositors my spirit feed,
Inspired from earth and skies.
The life that pours through nature's veins
Its visible and genial tide,
Thy tender robing of the plains,
The forest's stately pride;
Its visible and genial tide,
Thy tender robing of the plains,
The forest's stately pride;
The blossom only known to Thee,
A silent smile that gleams and dies.
The labor-anthem of the bee,
Whose rest in duty lies;
A silent smile that gleams and dies.
The labor-anthem of the bee,
Whose rest in duty lies;
51
The solemn chorus of the wind
That breathes thy power's triumphant tone,—
All frame Thy temple in my mind;
I am not here alone!
That breathes thy power's triumphant tone,—
All frame Thy temple in my mind;
I am not here alone!
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