Maxioms by John Greenleaf Whittier
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!
Feast of Cyril & Methodius, Missionaries to the Slavs, 869 & 885 Commemoration of Valentine, Martyr at Rome, c.269 I read more
Feast of Cyril & Methodius, Missionaries to the Slavs, 869 & 885 Commemoration of Valentine, Martyr at Rome, c.269 I see the wrong that round me lies, I feel the guilt within; I hear, with groan and travail-cries, The world confess its sin. Yet, in the maddening maze of things, And tossed by storm and flood, To one fixed trust my spirit clings I know that God is good!
They tell me, Lucy, thou art dead, That all of thee we loved and cherished Has with thy summer roses read more
They tell me, Lucy, thou art dead, That all of thee we loved and cherished Has with thy summer roses perished; And left, as its young beauty fled, An ashen memory in its stead.
God gives quietness at last.
God gives quietness at last.
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!
