 | The forest minstrel |  |
56
TO THE “WEEKLY MESSENGER.”
On receiving the first number (1836).
Welcome to the weary breast,
Messenger of Peace,
Bidding care's wild billows rest,
And worldly sorrows cease—
Bidding bleeding hearts like mine,
Seek the balsam from above;
Bearing from the Fount Divine,
Messenger of Love.
Messenger of Peace,
Bidding care's wild billows rest,
And worldly sorrows cease—
Bidding bleeding hearts like mine,
Seek the balsam from above;
Bearing from the Fount Divine,
Messenger of Love.
This poor heart has fondly clung
To many an earthly joy,
Then with bitter anguish wrung,
Mourned o'er the broken toy.
I have watch'd the budding flower,
And fondly hoped to see it blow,
But the storm, the frost, or shower,
Has ever laid it low.
To many an earthly joy,
Then with bitter anguish wrung,
Mourned o'er the broken toy.
I have watch'd the budding flower,
And fondly hoped to see it blow,
But the storm, the frost, or shower,
Has ever laid it low.
I have lent a willing car
To Hope's delusive strain:
And shed full many a bitter tear,
To find her promise vain.
I have sought perennial flow'rs
Along life's painful thorny way;
And mourned beneath the rifled bow'rs
To see them fall away.
To Hope's delusive strain:
And shed full many a bitter tear,
To find her promise vain.
57
Along life's painful thorny way;
And mourned beneath the rifled bow'rs
To see them fall away.
I have learn'd what restless things
Earth's joys and treasures are;
Seen them spread their phantom wings,
And vanish into air.
All the love and joys of earth
Are like the bubbles on the stream;
All its honour, fame, and mirth,
The meteor's flitting gleam.
Earth's joys and treasures are;
Seen them spread their phantom wings,
And vanish into air.
All the love and joys of earth
Are like the bubbles on the stream;
All its honour, fame, and mirth,
The meteor's flitting gleam.
Welcome! then, fair Messenger,
Of more substantial bliss;
Pointing to a holier
And happier world than this;
Speak thy Message near and far,
That Christ will give the weary rest;
Show the beams of Bethlehem's Star,
To the benighted breast.
Of more substantial bliss;
Pointing to a holier
And happier world than this;
Speak thy Message near and far,
That Christ will give the weary rest;
Show the beams of Bethlehem's Star,
To the benighted breast.
| The forest minstrel | |