HOW fresh, O Lord, how sweet and clean
Are thy returns! even as the flowers in spring;
To which, besides their own demean,
The late-past frosts tributes of pleasure bring.
Grief melts away
Like snow in May,
As if there...
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Sweet Day, so cool, so calm, so bright, Sweet Rose, whose hue angrie and brave |
To write a verse or two is all the praise I go to church; help me to wings, and I |
Come, my way, my truth, my life— Come my light, my feast, my strength— |
Sweet Peace, where dost thou dwell? I humbly crave, I did; and, going, did a... |
WHEN God at first made man, So strength first made a way; |
Said I not so,—that I would sin no more? What shall I do?—make vows and break them still? |
Thou whose sweet youth and early hopes enhance |
I Made a posie, while the day ran by: My... |