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God gives quietness at last.
God giveth quietness at last.
Grant but memory to us, and we can lose nothing by death.
He comes,--he comes,--the Frost Spirit comes!--from the frozen Labrador,--
From the icy bridge of the Northern seas, which the white bear wanders o'er,--
Where the fisherman's sail is stiff with ice, and the luckless forms below
In the sunless cold of the lingering night into marble statues grow!
His daily prayer, far better understood in acts than in words, was simply doing good.
I dimly guess, from blessings known, of greater out of sight.
I hear the tread of pioneers
Of nations yet to be,
The first low wash of waves where soon
Shall roll a human sea.
If woman lost us Eden, such as she alone restore it!
In kindly showers and sunshine bud
The branches of the dull gray wood;
Out from its sunned and sheltered nooks
The blue eye of the violet looks.
Know'st thou not all germs of evil
In thy heart await their time?
Not thyself, but God's restraining,
Stays their growth of crime.
Leaning on Him, make with reverent meekness His own thy will.
Life's sunniest hours are not without
The shadow of some lingering doubt--
Amid its brightest joys will steal
Spectres of evil yet to feel--
Its warmest love is blent with fears,
Its confidence a trembling one--
Its smile--the harbinger of tears--
Its hope--the change of April's sun!
A weary lot--in mercy given,
To fit the chastened soul for heaven.
Like a star glancing out from the blue of the sky!
Like warp and woof all destinies
Are woven fast,
Linked in sympathy like the keys
Of an organ vast.
Pluck one thread, and the web ye mar;
Break but one
Of a thousand keys, and the paining jar
Through all will run.
Love hath never known a law beyond its own sweet will.
Man is more than constitutions.
Nature eschews regular lines; she does not shape her lines by a common model. Not one of Eve's numerous progeny in all respects resembles her who first culled the flowers of Eden. To the infinite variety and picturesque inequality of nature we owe the great charm of her uncloying beauty.
O, brother man! fold to thy heart thy brother, where pity dwells, the peace of God is there.
Of all sad words of tongue or pen,
The saddest are these: "It might have been!"
Oh, talk as we may of beauty as a thing to be chiselled from marble or wrought out on canvas, speculate as we may upon its colors and outlines, what is it but an intellectual abstraction, after all? The heart feels a beauty of another kind; looking through the outward environment, it discovers a deeper and more real love-liness.
One brave deed makes no hero.
Quite the ugliest face I ever saw was that of a woman whom the world called beautiful. Through its silver veil the evil and ungentle passions looked out, hideous and hateful. On the other hand, there are faces which the multitude, at first glance, pronounce homely, unattractive and such as "Nature fashions by the gross," which I always recognize with a warm heart-thrill. Not for the world would I have one feature changed; they please me as they are; they are hallowed by kind memories, and are beautiful through their associations.
Romance is always young.
Shrines to burn earth's incense on, the altar-fires of heaven!
Simple duty hath no place for fear.
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