 | Jones Very : The Complete Poems |  |
McLean Asylum, Somerville
Oh! House of Refuge; for those weary souls,
Trembling on dizzy heights, mid gloom and shade,
While Reason from their path her light withholds,
Oh! House of Refuge! thou for them wast made.
Trembling on dizzy heights, mid gloom and shade,
While Reason from their path her light withholds,
Oh! House of Refuge! thou for them wast made.
Oh! House of Refuge! ever stand thou there—
A Refuge thou from fiery Passion's sway—
A shelter from the scorching heat of care—
A Holy Refuge, in grief's wintry day.
A Refuge thou from fiery Passion's sway—
A shelter from the scorching heat of care—
A Holy Refuge, in grief's wintry day.
The hand of kindness reared thy stately pile,
A goodness kinder keeps thee fair within;
Thy gates are open, and a welcome smile
Here greets the weary wanderer—enter in.
A goodness kinder keeps thee fair within;
Thy gates are open, and a welcome smile
Here greets the weary wanderer—enter in.
Oh! House of Refuge; thou receivest all,
The young, the old, the innocent, the gay;
The sighs, the groans, the burning tears that fall,
Oh! Holy Refuge! thou wilt chase away.
The young, the old, the innocent, the gay;
The sighs, the groans, the burning tears that fall,
Oh! Holy Refuge! thou wilt chase away.
Oh! House of blissful Hope! The orb of day
First robes thy lofty domes with morning light
So the first dawn of orient Reason's ray
Beneath thy walls lights up the soul's dark night.
First robes thy lofty domes with morning light
So the first dawn of orient Reason's ray
Beneath thy walls lights up the soul's dark night.
295
A House of Refuge, and a home of love,
A blest retreat, to me, thou wast for years,
When discord, doubt and fear for mastery strove—
There, first, His bow of Peace shone amid falling tears.
A blest retreat, to me, thou wast for years,
When discord, doubt and fear for mastery strove—
There, first, His bow of Peace shone amid falling tears.
Poem No. 383; March 1855
| Jones Very : The Complete Poems | |