John Keble

Sweet is the infant's waking smile,
And sweet the old man's rest--
But middle age by no read more

Sweet is the infant's waking smile,
And sweet the old man's rest--
But middle age by no fond wile,
No soothing calm is blest.

Look in, and see Christ's chosen saint
In triumph wear his Christ-like chain;
No fear lest he read more

Look in, and see Christ's chosen saint
In triumph wear his Christ-like chain;
No fear lest he should swerve or faint;
"His life is Christ, his death is gain."

Pride of the dewy morning,
The swain's experienced eye
From thee takes timely warning.
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Pride of the dewy morning,
The swain's experienced eye
From thee takes timely warning.
Nor trusts the gorgeous sky.
- John Keble,

Sprinkled along the waste of years
Full many a soft green isle appears:
Pause where we may read more

Sprinkled along the waste of years
Full many a soft green isle appears:
Pause where we may upon the desert road,
Some shelter is in sight, some sacred safe abode.

But when eve's silent footfall steals
Along the eastern sky,
And one by one to earth reveals
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But when eve's silent footfall steals
Along the eastern sky,
And one by one to earth reveals
Those purer fires on high.