For thou hast taught it-though 't is erring, even So it will own thy power, its crimes shall be forgiven. Oh, holy Penitence! apply that power Unto our spirits in their parting hour: And when at length thine office shall be o'er; That thou hast rescued, to the source of Good! And ending with the cause that brought thee forth below! THE OLD GREY STONE. All things perish, Save that which cannot die-the immortal spirit! THE old grey stone! the old grey stone! I know not why I love to sit For hours, in silence and alone, In the church-yard, and gaze on it. There are fair monuments around, This is the only one unknown; Yet none can waken thoughts profound, As can the old grey stone! I wander near it, when the dew Of morn is dripping from the eaves, And the church window glistens through Its curtain of green ivy leaves. The marble shines, when o'er its white, Smooth surface is the sunlight thrown; But oh! I love, though not so bright, The nameless old grey stone ! 'Tis but a fragment of a tomb, Spared when the rest was cleared away; Its sculpture gone-the name of whom It covered perished in decay; But though it bears nor name, nor date, And I do love to contemplate The shattered old grey stone! I love to think,- Perchance some head Of peerless beauty there may rest, That monument perhaps was laid Upon a fair and lovely breast! And even while I gaze, perchance If such things be, what vanity This earth and all its things must seem To those who dwell in bliss on high, Whose name on earth is but a dream! And while we strive, with care and pains, To leave a name when we are gone, May we remember what remains Of that sepulchral stone! THE DOVE FROM THE ARK. "THE ark is resting on the earth That the waters covereth o'er, Then go, thou trembling dove, go forth, And above its bosom soar." The dove went forth on her pinions fair, Across the waters wide; And now she cleft the sunless air, And now she swept the tide. And all day long her form around, Yet, on the pathless waves she found No rest for her weary foot. |