Craven Blossoms or, Poems chiefly connected with the district of Craven. By Robert Storey |
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| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
| XXIII. |
| XXIV. |
| XXV. |
| XXVI. |
| XXVII. |
| XXVIII. |
| XXIX. |
| XXXV. |
| XXXVI. |
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| 1. |
| 2. |
DEVOTIONAL STANZAS. |
 | Craven Blossoms |  |
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DEVOTIONAL STANZAS.
'Tis not by day—however bright
The beauty of the day may be—
'Tis in the night, 'tis in the night
My holiest musings dwell on Thee!
The beauty of the day may be—
'Tis in the night, 'tis in the night
My holiest musings dwell on Thee!
'Tis true, thy glorious hand I view
In every leaf that greens the tree,
And not a floweret blooms in dew,
But wakes a lovely thought of Thee;
In every leaf that greens the tree,
And not a floweret blooms in dew,
But wakes a lovely thought of Thee;
'Tis true, the Mountain soaring high,
The River rolling to the sea,
The blue and boundless stretch of Sky
Bid the awed spirit turn to Thee;
The River rolling to the sea,
The blue and boundless stretch of Sky
Bid the awed spirit turn to Thee;
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But few and brief such feelings are,
From business and from day they flee;
Ten thousand nameless chances jar
On bosom-chords attuned to Thee.
From business and from day they flee;
Ten thousand nameless chances jar
On bosom-chords attuned to Thee.
'Tis in the night—when nought around
The ear can hear, the eye can see—
When all seems laid in sleep profound
Except my watching Soul and Thee—
The ear can hear, the eye can see—
When all seems laid in sleep profound
Except my watching Soul and Thee—
'Tis then, my God! I feel thy power
And love, from all distraction free
My couch is Heaven in that high hour—
Thou'rt round me—I am wrapped in Thee!
And love, from all distraction free
My couch is Heaven in that high hour—
Thou'rt round me—I am wrapped in Thee!
| Craven Blossoms | |