John Greenleaf Whittier

Alas for him who never sees
The stars shine through his cypress-trees
Who, hopeless, lays his dead read more

Alas for him who never sees
The stars shine through his cypress-trees
Who, hopeless, lays his dead away,
Nor looks to see the breaking day
Across the mournful marbles play!

With silence only as their benediction,
God's angels come
Where in the shadow of a great affliction,
read more

With silence only as their benediction,
God's angels come
Where in the shadow of a great affliction,
The soul sits dumb!

So let it be in God's own might
We gird us for the coming fight,
And, strong read more

So let it be in God's own might
We gird us for the coming fight,
And, strong in Him whose cause is ours
In conflict with unholy powers,
We grasp the weapons he has given,--
The Light, and Truth, and Love of Heaven.

Clothe with life the weak intent, let me be the thing I meant.

Clothe with life the weak intent, let me be the thing I meant.

And close at hand, the basket stood
With nuts from brown October's wood.

And close at hand, the basket stood
With nuts from brown October's wood.