The Snowdrop. OFT as the balm the gentlest gale distils, SOFT Sweet as the fragrance of the new mown hills; Her op'ning mind a thousand charms reveal'd, Proofs of those thousands which were yet conceal'd: The loveliest flow'r in nature's garden plac'd, Permitted just to bloom, then pluckt in haste; Angels beheld her ripe for joys to come, And call'd by God's command their sister home. ANON. Thou, Great Ruler, Lord of AU ! BUT UT chiefly Thou, Great Ruler! Lord of all! If at thy nod, from discord, and from night, This glorious volume, which thy wisdom made! Yet, though thou wear'st the glory of the sky, Shalt thou not teach me in that calmer home W. C. BRYANT. FATHER The True Vine. ATHER of heaven! if by thy mercy's grace Which spreads o'er all, and would we did resign me be: Then willing come, that I may bear much fruit, And worthy of the stock on which it grew. VITTORIA COLONNA, Trans. ANON. The Snowdrop. OFT as the balm the gentlest gale distils, SOFT Sweet as the fragrance of the new mown hills; Her op'ning mind a thousand charms reveal'd, Proofs of those thousands which were yet conceal'd: The loveliest flow'r in nature's garden plac'd, Permitted just to bloom, then pluckt in haste; Angels beheld her ripe for joys to come, And call'd by God's command their sister home. ANON. Thou, Great Ruler, Lord of All! BUT chiefly Thou, Great Ruler! Lord of all! Before whose throne archangels prostrate fall, If at thy nod, from discord, and from night, This glorious volume, which thy wisdom made! Yet, though thou wear'st the glory of the sky, Wilt thou not keep the same beloved name, The same fair thoughtful brow, and gentle eye, Lovelier in heaven's sweet climate, yet the same? Shalt thou not teach me in that calmer home W. C. BRYANT. The True Vine. FATHER of heaven! if by thy mercy's grace A living branch I am of that true vine Which spreads o'er all,-and would we did resign In me much drooping, Lord, thine eye will trace, me be: Then willing come, that I may bear much fruit, VITTORIA COLONNA, Trans. ANON. The Snowdrop. OFT as the balm the gentlest gale distils, SOFT Sweet as the fragrance of the new mown hills; Her op'ning mind a thousand charms reveal'd, Proofs of those thousands which were yet conceal'd: The loveliest flow'r in nature's garden plac'd, Permitted just to bloom, then pluckt in haste; Angels beheld her ripe for joys to come, And call'd by God's command their sister home. ANON. Thou, Great Ruler, Lord of All! BUT chiefly Thou, Great Ruler! Lord of all! Before whose throne archangels prostrate fall, If at thy nod, from discord, and from night, This glorious volume, which thy wisdom made! |