John Greenleaf Whittier

The best of a book is not the thought which it contains, but the thought which it suggests; just as read more

The best of a book is not the thought which it contains, but the thought which it suggests; just as the charm of music dwells not in the tones but in the echoes of our hearts.

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!

Continuing a short series on forgiveness: When on my day of life the night is falling, And, in read more

Continuing a short series on forgiveness: When on my day of life the night is falling, And, in the winds from unsunned spaces blown, I hear far voices out of darkness calling My feet to paths unknown, Thou who hast made my home of life so pleasant Leave not its tenant when its walls decay; O Love Divine, O Helper ever-present, Be Thou my strength and stay! Be near me when all else is from me drifting; Earth, sky, home's pictures, days of shade and shine, And kindly faces to my own uplifting The love that answers mine. I have but Thee, my Father! let Thy spirit Be with me then to comfort and uphold; No gate of pearl, no branch of palm I merit, Nor street of shining gold. Suffice it if -- my good and ill unreckoned, And both forgiven through Thy abounding grace - I find myself by hands familiar beckoned Unto my fitting place.

Cast not the clouded gem away,
Quench not the dim but living ray,--
My brother man, Beware!
read more

Cast not the clouded gem away,
Quench not the dim but living ray,--
My brother man, Beware!
With that deep voice which from the skies
Forbade the Patriarch's sacrifice.
God's angel, cries, Forbear!

And let these altars, wreathed with flowers
And piled with fruits, awake again
Thanksgivings for the golden read more

And let these altars, wreathed with flowers
And piled with fruits, awake again
Thanksgivings for the golden hours,
The early and the latter rain!