The Project Gutenberg eBook ofReligious Poems, Selected

The Project Gutenberg eBook ofReligious Poems, SelectedThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online atwww.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.Title: Religious Poems, SelectedAuthor: VariousRelease date: April 10, 2017 [eBook #54526]Most recently updated: October 23, 2024Language: EnglishCredits: Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Chris Pinfield and theOnline Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RELIGIOUS POEMS, SELECTED ***

This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online atwww.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.

Title: Religious Poems, SelectedAuthor: VariousRelease date: April 10, 2017 [eBook #54526]Most recently updated: October 23, 2024Language: EnglishCredits: Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Chris Pinfield and theOnline Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net

Title: Religious Poems, Selected

Author: Various

Release date: April 10, 2017 [eBook #54526]Most recently updated: October 23, 2024

Language: English

Credits: Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Chris Pinfield and theOnline Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RELIGIOUS POEMS, SELECTED ***

Transcriber's Note.The compiler of this collection is not identified.Apparent typographical errors have been corrected. "Zavier" has been replaced by "Xavier". Inconsistencies in the use of hyphens and of accents have been retained.Where individual poems lack titles they are identified, in the Table of Contents, by their first line or an appropriate phrase.

Transcriber's Note.

The compiler of this collection is not identified.

Apparent typographical errors have been corrected. "Zavier" has been replaced by "Xavier". Inconsistencies in the use of hyphens and of accents have been retained.

Where individual poems lack titles they are identified, in the Table of Contents, by their first line or an appropriate phrase.

002jpgReligious PoemsTHE ANGEL'S INTERCESSION.

Religious PoemsTHE ANGEL'S INTERCESSION.

Religious Poems

THE ANGEL'S INTERCESSION.

RELIGIOUS POEMSSELECTED.PHILADELPHIA:THE RODGERS COMPANY.

SELECTED.

PHILADELPHIA:THE RODGERS COMPANY.

RELIGIOUS POEMS

"Worship thou Him." Ps. xlv. 11.

O Saviour,precious Saviour,Whom yet unseen we love,O Name of might and favor,All other names above:We worship Thee, we bless Thee,To Thee alone we sing;We praise Thee, and confess TheeOur holy Lord and King!O Bringer of salvation,Who wondrously hast wrought,Thyself the revelationOf love beyond our thought:We worship Thee, we bless Thee,To Thee alone we sing;We praise Thee, and confess TheeOur gracious Lord and King!In Thee all fullness dwelleth,All grace and power divine;The glory that excelleth,O, Son of God, is Thine:We worship Thee, we bless Thee,To Thee alone we sing;We praise Thee, and confess TheeOur glorious Lord and King!Oh, grant the consummationOf this our song above,In endless adoration,And everlasting love:Then shall we praise and bless Thee,Where perfect praises ring,And evermore confess TheeOur Saviour and our King!—Frances Ridley Havergal.

O Saviour,precious Saviour,

Whom yet unseen we love,

O Name of might and favor,

All other names above:

We worship Thee, we bless Thee,

To Thee alone we sing;

We praise Thee, and confess Thee

Our holy Lord and King!

O Bringer of salvation,Who wondrously hast wrought,Thyself the revelationOf love beyond our thought:We worship Thee, we bless Thee,To Thee alone we sing;We praise Thee, and confess TheeOur gracious Lord and King!

O Bringer of salvation,

Who wondrously hast wrought,

Thyself the revelation

Of love beyond our thought:

We worship Thee, we bless Thee,

To Thee alone we sing;

We praise Thee, and confess Thee

Our gracious Lord and King!

In Thee all fullness dwelleth,All grace and power divine;The glory that excelleth,O, Son of God, is Thine:We worship Thee, we bless Thee,To Thee alone we sing;We praise Thee, and confess TheeOur glorious Lord and King!

In Thee all fullness dwelleth,

All grace and power divine;

The glory that excelleth,

O, Son of God, is Thine:

We worship Thee, we bless Thee,

To Thee alone we sing;

We praise Thee, and confess Thee

Our glorious Lord and King!

Oh, grant the consummationOf this our song above,In endless adoration,And everlasting love:Then shall we praise and bless Thee,Where perfect praises ring,And evermore confess TheeOur Saviour and our King!

Oh, grant the consummation

Of this our song above,

In endless adoration,

And everlasting love:

Then shall we praise and bless Thee,

Where perfect praises ring,

And evermore confess Thee

Our Saviour and our King!

—Frances Ridley Havergal.

He giveth His beloved sleep. Ps. cxxvii. 2.

Ofall the thoughts of God that areBorne inward unto souls afar,Along the Psalmist's music deep,Now tell me if that any is,For gift or grace, surpassing this—'He giveth His beloved, sleep?'What would we give to our beloved?The hero's heart, to be unmoved,The poet's star-tuned harp, to sweep,The patriot's voice, to teach and rouse,The monarch's crown, to light the brows?—'He givethHisbeloved, sleep.'What do we give to our beloved?A little faith all undisproved,A little dust to overweep,And bitter memories to makeThe whole earth blasted for our sake.'He givethHisbeloved, sleep.''Sleep soft, beloved!' we sometimes sayBut have no tune to charm awaySad dreams that through the eyelids creep.But never doleful dream againShall break the happy slumber when'He givethHisbeloved, sleep.'O earth, so full of dreary noises!O men, with wailing in your voices!O delvèd gold, the wailers heap!O strife, O curse, that o'er it fall!God strikes a silence through you all,And 'giveth His beloved, sleep.'His dews drop mutely on the hill,His cloud above it saileth still,Though on its slope men sow and reap,More softly than the dew is shed,Or clouds is floated overhead,'He giveth His beloved, sleep.'Aye, men may wonder while they scanA living, thinking, feeling man,Confirmed in such a rest to keep;But angels say, and through the wordI think their happy smile isheard—'He giveth His beloved, sleep!'For me, my heart that erst did goMost like a tired child at a show,That sees through tears the mummers leap,Would now its wearied vision close,Would child-like onHislove repose,Who 'giveth His beloved, sleep!'And friends, dear friends,—when it shall beThat this low breath is gone from me,And round my bier ye come to weep,Let one, most loving of you all,Say, 'Not a tear must o'er her fall—He giveth His beloved, sleep.'—E. B. Browning.

Ofall the thoughts of God that areBorne inward unto souls afar,Along the Psalmist's music deep,Now tell me if that any is,For gift or grace, surpassing this—'He giveth His beloved, sleep?'

Ofall the thoughts of God that are

Borne inward unto souls afar,

Along the Psalmist's music deep,

Now tell me if that any is,

For gift or grace, surpassing this—

'He giveth His beloved, sleep?'

What would we give to our beloved?The hero's heart, to be unmoved,The poet's star-tuned harp, to sweep,The patriot's voice, to teach and rouse,The monarch's crown, to light the brows?—'He givethHisbeloved, sleep.'

What would we give to our beloved?

The hero's heart, to be unmoved,

The poet's star-tuned harp, to sweep,

The patriot's voice, to teach and rouse,

The monarch's crown, to light the brows?—

'He givethHisbeloved, sleep.'

What do we give to our beloved?A little faith all undisproved,A little dust to overweep,And bitter memories to makeThe whole earth blasted for our sake.'He givethHisbeloved, sleep.'

What do we give to our beloved?

A little faith all undisproved,

A little dust to overweep,

And bitter memories to make

The whole earth blasted for our sake.

'He givethHisbeloved, sleep.'

'Sleep soft, beloved!' we sometimes sayBut have no tune to charm awaySad dreams that through the eyelids creep.But never doleful dream againShall break the happy slumber when'He givethHisbeloved, sleep.'

'Sleep soft, beloved!' we sometimes say

But have no tune to charm away

Sad dreams that through the eyelids creep.

But never doleful dream again

Shall break the happy slumber when

'He givethHisbeloved, sleep.'

O earth, so full of dreary noises!O men, with wailing in your voices!O delvèd gold, the wailers heap!O strife, O curse, that o'er it fall!God strikes a silence through you all,And 'giveth His beloved, sleep.'

O earth, so full of dreary noises!

O men, with wailing in your voices!

O delvèd gold, the wailers heap!

O strife, O curse, that o'er it fall!

God strikes a silence through you all,

And 'giveth His beloved, sleep.'

His dews drop mutely on the hill,His cloud above it saileth still,Though on its slope men sow and reap,More softly than the dew is shed,Or clouds is floated overhead,'He giveth His beloved, sleep.'

His dews drop mutely on the hill,

His cloud above it saileth still,

Though on its slope men sow and reap,

More softly than the dew is shed,

Or clouds is floated overhead,

'He giveth His beloved, sleep.'

Aye, men may wonder while they scanA living, thinking, feeling man,Confirmed in such a rest to keep;But angels say, and through the wordI think their happy smile isheard—'He giveth His beloved, sleep!'

Aye, men may wonder while they scan

A living, thinking, feeling man,

Confirmed in such a rest to keep;

But angels say, and through the word

I think their happy smile isheard—

'He giveth His beloved, sleep!'

For me, my heart that erst did goMost like a tired child at a show,That sees through tears the mummers leap,Would now its wearied vision close,Would child-like onHislove repose,Who 'giveth His beloved, sleep!'

For me, my heart that erst did go

Most like a tired child at a show,

That sees through tears the mummers leap,

Would now its wearied vision close,

Would child-like onHislove repose,

Who 'giveth His beloved, sleep!'

And friends, dear friends,—when it shall beThat this low breath is gone from me,And round my bier ye come to weep,Let one, most loving of you all,Say, 'Not a tear must o'er her fall—He giveth His beloved, sleep.'

And friends, dear friends,—when it shall be

That this low breath is gone from me,

And round my bier ye come to weep,

Let one, most loving of you all,

Say, 'Not a tear must o'er her fall—

He giveth His beloved, sleep.'

—E. B. Browning.

Howgentle God's commands!How kind his precepts are!Come, cast your burdens on the Lord,And trust his constant care.Beneath his watchful eyeHis saints securely dwell;That hand which bears all nature upShall guard his children well.Why should this anxious loadPress down your weary mind?Haste to your heavenly Father's throneAnd sweet refreshment find.His goodness stands approved,Unchanged from day to day:I'll drop my burden at his feet,And bear a song away.—Doddridge.

Howgentle God's commands!How kind his precepts are!Come, cast your burdens on the Lord,And trust his constant care.

Howgentle God's commands!

How kind his precepts are!

Come, cast your burdens on the Lord,

And trust his constant care.

Beneath his watchful eyeHis saints securely dwell;That hand which bears all nature upShall guard his children well.

Beneath his watchful eye

His saints securely dwell;

That hand which bears all nature up

Shall guard his children well.

Why should this anxious loadPress down your weary mind?Haste to your heavenly Father's throneAnd sweet refreshment find.

Why should this anxious load

Press down your weary mind?

Haste to your heavenly Father's throne

And sweet refreshment find.

His goodness stands approved,Unchanged from day to day:I'll drop my burden at his feet,And bear a song away.

His goodness stands approved,

Unchanged from day to day:

I'll drop my burden at his feet,

And bear a song away.

—Doddridge.

Bestrong tohope, O Heart!Though day is bright,The stars can only shineIn the dark night.Be strong, O Heart of mine,Look towards the light!Be strong tobear, O Heart!Nothing is vain:Strive not, for life is care,And God sends pain;Heaven is above, and thereRest will remain!Be strong tolove, O Heart!Love knows not wrong;Didst thou love—creatures even,Life were not long;Didst thou love God in heaven,Thou wouldst be strong!—Adelaide Procter.

Bestrong tohope, O Heart!Though day is bright,The stars can only shineIn the dark night.Be strong, O Heart of mine,Look towards the light!

Bestrong tohope, O Heart!

Though day is bright,

The stars can only shine

In the dark night.

Be strong, O Heart of mine,

Look towards the light!

Be strong tobear, O Heart!Nothing is vain:Strive not, for life is care,And God sends pain;Heaven is above, and thereRest will remain!

Be strong tobear, O Heart!

Nothing is vain:

Strive not, for life is care,

And God sends pain;

Heaven is above, and there

Rest will remain!

Be strong tolove, O Heart!Love knows not wrong;Didst thou love—creatures even,Life were not long;Didst thou love God in heaven,Thou wouldst be strong!

Be strong tolove, O Heart!

Love knows not wrong;

Didst thou love—creatures even,

Life were not long;

Didst thou love God in heaven,

Thou wouldst be strong!

—Adelaide Procter.

"So He giveth his beloved sleep." Ps. cxxvii. 2.

Sunlighthas vanished, and the weary earthLies resting from a long day's toil and pain,And, looking for a new dawn's early birth,Seeks strength in slumber for its toil again.We too would rest; but ere we close the eyeUpon the consciousness of waking thought,Would calmly turn it to yon star-bright sky,And lift the soul to Him who slumbers not.Above us is thy hand with tender care,Distilling over us the dew of sleep:Darkness seems loaded with oblivious air,In deep forgetfulness each sense to steep.Thou hast provided midnight's hour of peace,Thou stretchest over us the wing of rest;With more than all a parent's tenderness,Foldest us sleeping to thy gentle breast.Grief flies away; care quits our easy couch,Till wakened by thy hand, when breaks the day—Like the lone prophet by the angel's touch,—We rise to tread again our pilgrim-way.God of our life! God of each day and night,Oh, keep us still till life's short race is run!Until there dawns the long, long day of light.That knows no night, yet needs no star nor sun.—Horatius Bonar.

Sunlighthas vanished, and the weary earthLies resting from a long day's toil and pain,And, looking for a new dawn's early birth,Seeks strength in slumber for its toil again.

Sunlighthas vanished, and the weary earth

Lies resting from a long day's toil and pain,

And, looking for a new dawn's early birth,

Seeks strength in slumber for its toil again.

We too would rest; but ere we close the eyeUpon the consciousness of waking thought,Would calmly turn it to yon star-bright sky,And lift the soul to Him who slumbers not.

We too would rest; but ere we close the eye

Upon the consciousness of waking thought,

Would calmly turn it to yon star-bright sky,

And lift the soul to Him who slumbers not.

Above us is thy hand with tender care,Distilling over us the dew of sleep:Darkness seems loaded with oblivious air,In deep forgetfulness each sense to steep.

Above us is thy hand with tender care,

Distilling over us the dew of sleep:

Darkness seems loaded with oblivious air,

In deep forgetfulness each sense to steep.

Thou hast provided midnight's hour of peace,Thou stretchest over us the wing of rest;With more than all a parent's tenderness,Foldest us sleeping to thy gentle breast.

Thou hast provided midnight's hour of peace,

Thou stretchest over us the wing of rest;

With more than all a parent's tenderness,

Foldest us sleeping to thy gentle breast.

Grief flies away; care quits our easy couch,Till wakened by thy hand, when breaks the day—Like the lone prophet by the angel's touch,—We rise to tread again our pilgrim-way.

Grief flies away; care quits our easy couch,

Till wakened by thy hand, when breaks the day—

Like the lone prophet by the angel's touch,—

We rise to tread again our pilgrim-way.

God of our life! God of each day and night,Oh, keep us still till life's short race is run!Until there dawns the long, long day of light.That knows no night, yet needs no star nor sun.

God of our life! God of each day and night,

Oh, keep us still till life's short race is run!

Until there dawns the long, long day of light.

That knows no night, yet needs no star nor sun.

—Horatius Bonar.

Wearyof myself, and sick of askingWhat I am, and what I ought to be,At this vessel's prow I stand, which bears meForwards, forwards, o'er the starlit sea.And a look of passionate desireO'er the sea and to the stars I send:"Ye who from my childhood up have calmed me,Calm me, ah, compose me to the end!"Ah, once more," I cried, "ye stars, ye waters,On my heart your mighty charm renew;Still, still let me, as I gaze upon you,Feel my soul becoming vast like you!"From the intense, clear, star-sown vault of heaven,Over the lit sea's unquiet way,In the rustling night-air came the answer,—"Wouldst thoubeas these are?Liveas they."Unaffrighted by the silence round them,Undistracted by the sights they see,These demand not that the things without themYield them love, amusement, sympathy."And with joy the stars perform their shining,And the sea its long moon-silvered roll;For self-poised they live, nor pine with notingAll the fever of some differing soul."Bounded by themselves, and unregardfulIn what state God's other works may be,In their own tasks all their powers pouring,These attain the mighty life you see."O air-born voice! long since severely clear,A cry like thine in mine own heart I hear,—"Resolve to be thyself; and know, that heWho finds himself loses his misery!"—Matthew Arnold.

Wearyof myself, and sick of askingWhat I am, and what I ought to be,At this vessel's prow I stand, which bears meForwards, forwards, o'er the starlit sea.

Wearyof myself, and sick of asking

What I am, and what I ought to be,

At this vessel's prow I stand, which bears me

Forwards, forwards, o'er the starlit sea.

And a look of passionate desireO'er the sea and to the stars I send:"Ye who from my childhood up have calmed me,Calm me, ah, compose me to the end!

And a look of passionate desire

O'er the sea and to the stars I send:

"Ye who from my childhood up have calmed me,

Calm me, ah, compose me to the end!

"Ah, once more," I cried, "ye stars, ye waters,On my heart your mighty charm renew;Still, still let me, as I gaze upon you,Feel my soul becoming vast like you!"

"Ah, once more," I cried, "ye stars, ye waters,

On my heart your mighty charm renew;

Still, still let me, as I gaze upon you,

Feel my soul becoming vast like you!"

From the intense, clear, star-sown vault of heaven,Over the lit sea's unquiet way,In the rustling night-air came the answer,—"Wouldst thoubeas these are?Liveas they.

From the intense, clear, star-sown vault of heaven,

Over the lit sea's unquiet way,

In the rustling night-air came the answer,—

"Wouldst thoubeas these are?Liveas they.

"Unaffrighted by the silence round them,Undistracted by the sights they see,These demand not that the things without themYield them love, amusement, sympathy.

"Unaffrighted by the silence round them,

Undistracted by the sights they see,

These demand not that the things without them

Yield them love, amusement, sympathy.

"And with joy the stars perform their shining,And the sea its long moon-silvered roll;For self-poised they live, nor pine with notingAll the fever of some differing soul.

"And with joy the stars perform their shining,

And the sea its long moon-silvered roll;

For self-poised they live, nor pine with noting

All the fever of some differing soul.

"Bounded by themselves, and unregardfulIn what state God's other works may be,In their own tasks all their powers pouring,These attain the mighty life you see."

"Bounded by themselves, and unregardful

In what state God's other works may be,

In their own tasks all their powers pouring,

These attain the mighty life you see."

O air-born voice! long since severely clear,A cry like thine in mine own heart I hear,—"Resolve to be thyself; and know, that heWho finds himself loses his misery!"

O air-born voice! long since severely clear,

A cry like thine in mine own heart I hear,—

"Resolve to be thyself; and know, that he

Who finds himself loses his misery!"

—Matthew Arnold.

Prayeris the soul's sincere desire,Unuttered or expressed;The motion of a hidden fireThat trembles in the breast.Prayer is the burden of a sigh,The falling of a tear,The upward glancing of an eye,When none but God is near.Prayer is the simplest form of speechThat infant lips can try;Prayer the sublimest strains that reachThe majesty on high.Prayer is the contrite sinner's voice,Returning from his ways;While angels in their songs rejoice,And cry—"Behold he prays!"Prayer is the Christian's vital breath,The Christian's native air:His watchword at the gates of death—He enters heaven with prayer.The saints in prayer appear as oneIn word, and deed, and mind,While with the Father and the SonSweet fellowship they find.Nor prayer is made by man aloneThe Holy Spirit pleadsAnd Jesus, on the eternal throneFor sinners intercedes.O Thou, by whom we come to God—The Life, the Truth, the Way;The path of prayer Thyself hast trod;Lord! teach us how to pray.—James Montgomery.

Prayeris the soul's sincere desire,Unuttered or expressed;The motion of a hidden fireThat trembles in the breast.

Prayeris the soul's sincere desire,

Unuttered or expressed;

The motion of a hidden fire

That trembles in the breast.

Prayer is the burden of a sigh,The falling of a tear,The upward glancing of an eye,When none but God is near.

Prayer is the burden of a sigh,

The falling of a tear,

The upward glancing of an eye,

When none but God is near.

Prayer is the simplest form of speechThat infant lips can try;Prayer the sublimest strains that reachThe majesty on high.

Prayer is the simplest form of speech

That infant lips can try;

Prayer the sublimest strains that reach

The majesty on high.

Prayer is the contrite sinner's voice,Returning from his ways;While angels in their songs rejoice,And cry—"Behold he prays!"

Prayer is the contrite sinner's voice,

Returning from his ways;

While angels in their songs rejoice,

And cry—"Behold he prays!"

Prayer is the Christian's vital breath,The Christian's native air:His watchword at the gates of death—He enters heaven with prayer.

Prayer is the Christian's vital breath,

The Christian's native air:

His watchword at the gates of death—

He enters heaven with prayer.

The saints in prayer appear as oneIn word, and deed, and mind,While with the Father and the SonSweet fellowship they find.

The saints in prayer appear as one

In word, and deed, and mind,

While with the Father and the Son

Sweet fellowship they find.

Nor prayer is made by man aloneThe Holy Spirit pleadsAnd Jesus, on the eternal throneFor sinners intercedes.

Nor prayer is made by man alone

The Holy Spirit pleads

And Jesus, on the eternal throne

For sinners intercedes.

O Thou, by whom we come to God—The Life, the Truth, the Way;The path of prayer Thyself hast trod;Lord! teach us how to pray.

O Thou, by whom we come to God—

The Life, the Truth, the Way;

The path of prayer Thyself hast trod;

Lord! teach us how to pray.

—James Montgomery.

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