12It stirs no thought of strife; And Love becomes the substance, As item, of our life;
15That every ragged urchin, With bare feet soiled or sore, Share God's most tender mercies, —
18Find items at our door.
Then if we've done to others Some good ne'er told before,
21When angels shall repeat it, 'T will be an item more.
THE OAK ON THE MOUNTAIN'S SUMMIT
Oh, mountain monarch, at whose feet I stand, —
3Clouds to adorn thy brow, skies clasp thy hand, — Nature divine, in harmony profound, With peaceful presence hath begirt thee round.
6And thou, majestic oak, from yon high place Guard'st thou the earth, asleep in night's embrace, — And from thy lofty summit, pouring down
9Thy sheltering shade, her noonday glories crown?
Whate'er thy mission, mountain sentinel, To my lone heart thou art a power and spell;
12A lesson grave, of life, that teacheth me To love the Hebrew figure of a tree.
Faithful and patient be my life as thine;
15As strong to wrestle with the storms of time; As deeply rooted in a soil of love; As grandly rising to the heavens above.
ISLE OF WIGHT
Written on receiving a painting of the Isle
Isle of beauty, thou art singing
21To my sense a sweet refrain; To my busy mem'ry bringing Scenes that I would see again.
1Chief, the charm of thy reflecting, Is the moral that it brings;
3Nature, with the mind connecting, Gives the artist's fancy wings.