Life and Songs of the Baroness Nairne With a Memoir and Poems of Caroline Oliphant the Younger: Edited by the Rev. Charles Rogers ... With a Portrait and Other Illustrations |
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ON RECOVERING FROM SICKNESS. |
 | Life and Songs of the Baroness Nairne |  |
178
ON RECOVERING FROM SICKNESS.
I thought to join the heavenly choir,
To strike a harp of light;
While this forgotten, tuneless lyre,
Rested 'mid shades of night.
To strike a harp of light;
While this forgotten, tuneless lyre,
Rested 'mid shades of night.
I thought to dwell in heav'nly bowers,
Where angels have their seat,
And wreathe immortal amaranth flowers,
To cast at Jesus' feet.
Where angels have their seat,
And wreathe immortal amaranth flowers,
To cast at Jesus' feet.
Alas! this jarring, broken lute
Alone remains to me;
In vain I sweep its chords so mute;
They wake no melody.
Alone remains to me;
In vain I sweep its chords so mute;
They wake no melody.
No fragrant crown from Eden's bow'rs
Is giv'n into my hand;
Only a wreath of with'ring flowers,
Cull'd in this desert land.
Is giv'n into my hand;
Only a wreath of with'ring flowers,
Cull'd in this desert land.
With pity, Lord, my off'ring view,
Although for thee unmeet;
'Tis all enthroned saints can do,
To lay it at Thy feet.
Although for thee unmeet;
'Tis all enthroned saints can do,
To lay it at Thy feet.
From silence my mute lyre release,
And tune its chords to love;
Breathe o'er its numbers, breathe Thy peace,—
Echo of joy above.
And tune its chords to love;
Breathe o'er its numbers, breathe Thy peace,—
Echo of joy above.
| Life and Songs of the Baroness Nairne | |