A memorial volume of sacred poetry by the late Sir John Bowring. To which is prefixed, a memoir of the author, by Lady Bowring |
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The Light of the Spirit.
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 | A memorial volume of sacred poetry |  |
35
The Light of the Spirit.
The summer was made by Thee,
There's joy and hope in its birth,
There's joy in its memory,
'Tis the festival of earth.
There's joy and hope in its birth,
There's joy in its memory,
'Tis the festival of earth.
In the rays of the summer sun
Its beauty,—its light,—its love,
We may trace the Eternal One
As He rules and smiles above.
Its beauty,—its light,—its love,
We may trace the Eternal One
As He rules and smiles above.
But where is the summer of mind,
And where the sun of the soul,
To brighten, to bless, to bind,
And overlook the whole?
And where the sun of the soul,
To brighten, to bless, to bind,
And overlook the whole?
From the same creative Might
Which the glorious noon has given,
Descends the Spirit's light,
And all shines down from Heaven.
Which the glorious noon has given,
Descends the Spirit's light,
And all shines down from Heaven.
| A memorial volume of sacred poetry | |