I LOVE THEE.
’Tis sweet, when first the infant’s voiceLisps to the parent of his joys,Words like no other;And says,—as a bright, radiant smileLights up his countenance the while—“I love thee, mother.”’Tis sweet, to watch that mother’s eyeBeam, like a star in yonder sky,Radiant, though mild;To hear her speak the glad reply,—Her joyous bosom heaving high—“I love thee, child.”’Tis pleasant, when at midnight hourBeneath some fragrant myrtle bowerWith flow’rs inwove,The happy swain, with trembling toneReveals his heart toheralone—“’TistheeI love:”And then, to mark the rising sigh,The blushing cheek, the laughing eye,Inturnappear;The swelling breast, thethrobbingthere,The playful struggle—alldeclare,“I love thee, dear.”’Tis sweet, when man doth contrite bowBefore his God, his spirit low,And seek His favor.With deep submission as he kneels,He speaks the joy his bosom feels,“I love thee, Savior.”But sweeter far, whenGodhath said,“The offering whichIhave made,Thine heart hath won.ThroughHimwill I now hear thy cries,Through that ‘atoning sacrifice,’‘I love thee,son.’”
’Tis sweet, when first the infant’s voiceLisps to the parent of his joys,Words like no other;And says,—as a bright, radiant smileLights up his countenance the while—“I love thee, mother.”’Tis sweet, to watch that mother’s eyeBeam, like a star in yonder sky,Radiant, though mild;To hear her speak the glad reply,—Her joyous bosom heaving high—“I love thee, child.”’Tis pleasant, when at midnight hourBeneath some fragrant myrtle bowerWith flow’rs inwove,The happy swain, with trembling toneReveals his heart toheralone—“’TistheeI love:”And then, to mark the rising sigh,The blushing cheek, the laughing eye,Inturnappear;The swelling breast, thethrobbingthere,The playful struggle—alldeclare,“I love thee, dear.”’Tis sweet, when man doth contrite bowBefore his God, his spirit low,And seek His favor.With deep submission as he kneels,He speaks the joy his bosom feels,“I love thee, Savior.”But sweeter far, whenGodhath said,“The offering whichIhave made,Thine heart hath won.ThroughHimwill I now hear thy cries,Through that ‘atoning sacrifice,’‘I love thee,son.’”
’Tis sweet, when first the infant’s voiceLisps to the parent of his joys,Words like no other;And says,—as a bright, radiant smileLights up his countenance the while—“I love thee, mother.”
’Tis sweet, when first the infant’s voice
Lisps to the parent of his joys,
Words like no other;
And says,—as a bright, radiant smile
Lights up his countenance the while—
“I love thee, mother.”
’Tis sweet, to watch that mother’s eyeBeam, like a star in yonder sky,Radiant, though mild;To hear her speak the glad reply,—Her joyous bosom heaving high—“I love thee, child.”
’Tis sweet, to watch that mother’s eye
Beam, like a star in yonder sky,
Radiant, though mild;
To hear her speak the glad reply,—
Her joyous bosom heaving high—
“I love thee, child.”
’Tis pleasant, when at midnight hourBeneath some fragrant myrtle bowerWith flow’rs inwove,The happy swain, with trembling toneReveals his heart toheralone—“’TistheeI love:”
’Tis pleasant, when at midnight hour
Beneath some fragrant myrtle bower
With flow’rs inwove,
The happy swain, with trembling tone
Reveals his heart toheralone—
“’TistheeI love:”
And then, to mark the rising sigh,The blushing cheek, the laughing eye,Inturnappear;The swelling breast, thethrobbingthere,The playful struggle—alldeclare,“I love thee, dear.”
And then, to mark the rising sigh,
The blushing cheek, the laughing eye,
Inturnappear;
The swelling breast, thethrobbingthere,
The playful struggle—alldeclare,
“I love thee, dear.”
’Tis sweet, when man doth contrite bowBefore his God, his spirit low,And seek His favor.With deep submission as he kneels,He speaks the joy his bosom feels,“I love thee, Savior.”
’Tis sweet, when man doth contrite bow
Before his God, his spirit low,
And seek His favor.
With deep submission as he kneels,
He speaks the joy his bosom feels,
“I love thee, Savior.”
But sweeter far, whenGodhath said,“The offering whichIhave made,Thine heart hath won.ThroughHimwill I now hear thy cries,Through that ‘atoning sacrifice,’‘I love thee,son.’”
But sweeter far, whenGodhath said,
“The offering whichIhave made,
Thine heart hath won.
ThroughHimwill I now hear thy cries,
Through that ‘atoning sacrifice,’
‘I love thee,son.’”