 | 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition |  |
THE BURDEN OF THE BELLS.
Between the heaven and earth I hear them call,
And on the wind their tender tones are flung,
In melodies that speak the spirit's tongue,
And weary hearts with sounds celestial thrall;
And on the wind their tender tones are flung,
In melodies that speak the spirit's tongue,
And weary hearts with sounds celestial thrall;
They catch the notes the angels first have sung,
And on our gloom their gladsome voices fall,
Whenever Sabbaths rise and peals are rung,
With blissful tidings that are balm to all.
And on our gloom their gladsome voices fall,
Whenever Sabbaths rise and peals are rung,
With blissful tidings that are balm to all.
Sweet is the mediation of the bells,
That chime so softly with our saddening fears,
When hope is born and in the bosom swells;
That chime so softly with our saddening fears,
When hope is born and in the bosom swells;
Their peaceful strains the wayworn wanderer hears,
And bright the news their sacred music tells,
Which heaven interprets unto human ears.
And bright the news their sacred music tells,
Which heaven interprets unto human ears.
| 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition | |