Thomas Gray

And to hie him home, at evening's close,
To sweet repast, and calm repose.
. . . read more

And to hie him home, at evening's close,
To sweet repast, and calm repose.
. . . .
From toil we wins his spirits light,
From busy day the peaceful night;
Rich, from the very want of wealth,
In heaven's best treasures, peace and health.

The tear forgot as soon as shed,
The sunshine of the breast.

The tear forgot as soon as shed,
The sunshine of the breast.

No farther seek his merits to disclose,
Or draw his frailties from their dread abode
(There they read more

No farther seek his merits to disclose,
Or draw his frailties from their dread abode
(There they alike in trembling hope repose),
The bosom of his Father and his God.

Not all that tempts your wandering eyes
And heedless hearts is lawful prize,
Not all that glisters read more

Not all that tempts your wandering eyes
And heedless hearts is lawful prize,
Not all that glisters gold.

The still small voice of gratitude.

The still small voice of gratitude.