Our lambs in the fold above, ed. by lady Dunbar

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Hatchards, 1875 - 221 pages

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Page 109 - THERE is a Reaper, whose name is Death, And, with his sickle keen, He reaps the bearded grain at a breath, And the flowers that grow between.
Page 74 - He who hath bent him o'er the dead Ere the first day of death is fled, The first dark day of nothingness, The last of danger and distress...
Page 75 - Such is the aspect of this shore; >Tis Greece, but living Greece no more So coldly sweet, so deadly fair, We start, for soul is wanting there. Hers is the loveliness in death, That parts not quite with parting breath...
Page 120 - THERE is no flock, however watched and tended, But one dead lamb is there ! There is no fireside, howsoe'er defended, But has one vacant chair ! The air is full of farewells to the dying, And mournings for the dead...
Page 50 - A SIMPLE child That lightly draws its breath, And feels its life in every limb, What should it know of death? I met a little cottage girl : She was eight years old, she said; Her hair was thick with many a curl That clustered round her head. She had a rustic, woodland air, And she was wildly clad; Her eyes were fair, and very fair; Her beauty made me glad.
Page 51 - Then did the little maid reply, "Seven boys and girls are we; Two of us in the churchyard lie, Beneath the churchyard tree." " You run about, my little maid, Your limbs they are alive ; If two are in the churchyard laid, Then ye are only five." "Their graves are green, they may be seen," The little maid replied, '' Twelve steps or more from my mother's door, And they are side by side.
Page 162 - For this child I prayed ; and the LORD hath given me my petition which I asked of him : Therefore also I have lent him to the LORD ; as long as he liveth he shall be lent to the LORD.
Page 51 - Two of us in the churchyard lie, My sister and my brother; And, in the churchyard cottage, I Dwell near them with my mother.
Page 85 - Pierc'd with sorrows, tossed with danger, Gladly I return to God. Now my cries shall cease to grieve thee, Now my trembling heart find rest : Kinder arms than thine receive me; Softer pillow than thy breast.
Page 189 - MY LAMBS. I LOVED them so, That when the Elder Shepherd of the fold Came, covered with the storm, and pale and cold, And begged for one of my sweet lambs to hold, I bade Him go. He claimed the pet A little fondling thing, that to my breast Clung always, either in quiet or unrest ; I thought of all my lambs I loved him best, And yet and yet I laid him down In those white, shrouded arms, with bitter tears ; For some voice told me that, in after years, He should know naught of passion, grief,...

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