A diurnal for the changes and chances of this mortal life [extracts] ed. by C. Sturge

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Page 73 - Ye blessed Creatures, I have heard the call Ye to each other make; I see The heavens laugh with you in your jubilee; My heart is at your festival, My head hath its coronal, The fulness of your bliss, I feel I feel it all.
Page 5 - How happy is he born and taught That serveth not another's will; Whose armour is his honest thought, And simple truth his utmost skill...
Page 30 - MAY I join the choir invisible Of those immortal dead who live again In minds made better by their presence : live In pulses stirred to generosity, In deeds of daring rectitude, in scorn For miserable aims that end with self. In thoughts sublime that pierce the night like stars, And with their mild persistence urge man's search To vaster issues.
Page 107 - I know not what the future hath Of marvel or surprise, Assured alone that life and death His mercy underlies. And if my heart and flesh are weak To bear an untried pain, The bruised reed He will not break, But strengthen and sustain.
Page 95 - Breathe soft or loud ; and wave your tops, ye pines, With every plant, in sign of worship wave. Fountains, and ye that warble as ye flow, Melodious murmurs, warbling tune his praise. Join voices, all ye living souls ; ye birds, That singing up to heaven-gate ascend, Bear on your wings and in your notes his praise.
Page 56 - Lines Written in Early Spring I HEARD a thousand blended notes, While in a grove I sate reclined, In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts Bring sad thoughts to the mind. To her fair works did Nature link The human soul that through me ran; And much it grieved my heart to think What man has made of man. Through primrose tufts, in that green bower, The periwinkle trailed its wreaths; And 'tis my faith that every flower Enjoys the air it breathes.
Page 8 - Of every hearer; for it so falls out That what we have we prize not to the worth Whiles we enjoy it, but being lack'd and lost, Why, then we rack the value, then we find The virtue that possession would not show us Whiles it was ours.
Page 26 - A lily of a day Is fairer far, in May, Although it fall and die that night; It was the plant and flower of light. In small proportions we just beauties see; And in short measures life may perfect be.
Page 29 - THE stormy March is come at last, With wind, and cloud, and changing skies , I hear the rushing of the blast, That through the snowy valley flies Ah, passing few are they who speak, Wild stormy month! in praise of thee ; Yet, though thy winds are loud and bleak, Thou art a welcome month to rne.
Page 122 - Yet even in the Old Testament, if you listen to David's harp, you shall hear as many hearse-like airs, as carols. And the pencil of the Holy Ghost hath laboured more in describing the afflictions of Job, than the felicities of Solomon.

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