James Montgomery

The Dove,
On silver pinions, winged her peaceful way.

The Dove,
On silver pinions, winged her peaceful way.

A work of skill, surpassing sense,
A labor of Omnipotence;
Though frail as dust it meet thine read more

A work of skill, surpassing sense,
A labor of Omnipotence;
Though frail as dust it meet thine eye,
He form'd this gnat who built the sky.

The violets were past their prime,
Yet their departing breath
Was sweeter, in the blast of death,
read more

The violets were past their prime,
Yet their departing breath
Was sweeter, in the blast of death,
Than all the lavish fragrance of the time.

The tall Oak, towering to the skies,
The fury of the wind defies,
From age to age, read more

The tall Oak, towering to the skies,
The fury of the wind defies,
From age to age, in virtue strong.
Inured to stand, and suffer wrong.

Joys too exquisite to last,
And yet more exquisite when past.

Joys too exquisite to last,
And yet more exquisite when past.