XXVI.—GOD, THE TRUE SOURCE OF CONSOLATION.MOORE.Thomas Moore was born in Dublin, Ireland, in 1779, and died in 1852. He was the sweetest and most brilliant lyric poet of his time. Many of his Irish melodies are unequaled for their sparkling gems of wit and fancy, and for deep and tender sentiment.
MOORE.
Thomas Moore was born in Dublin, Ireland, in 1779, and died in 1852. He was the sweetest and most brilliant lyric poet of his time. Many of his Irish melodies are unequaled for their sparkling gems of wit and fancy, and for deep and tender sentiment.
1. O Thou, who dry’st the mourner’s tear,How dark this world would be,If, when deceived and wounded here,We could not fly to Thee!2. The friends, who in our sunshine live,When winter comes, are flown;And he who has but tears to give,Must weep those tears alone.3. But Thou wilt heal the broken heartWhich like the plants that throwTheir fragrance from the wounded part,Breathes sweetness out of woe.4. When joy no longer soothes or cheers,And e’en the hope that threwA moment’s sparkle o’er our tears,Is dimm’d and vanish’d too!5. Oh! who could bear life’s stormy doom,Did not Thy wing of loveCome brightly wafting through the gloomOur peace-branch from above!6. Then, sorrow, touch’d by Thee, grows brightWith more than rapture’s ray,As darkness shows us worlds of light,We never saw by day.
1. O Thou, who dry’st the mourner’s tear,How dark this world would be,If, when deceived and wounded here,We could not fly to Thee!2. The friends, who in our sunshine live,When winter comes, are flown;And he who has but tears to give,Must weep those tears alone.3. But Thou wilt heal the broken heartWhich like the plants that throwTheir fragrance from the wounded part,Breathes sweetness out of woe.4. When joy no longer soothes or cheers,And e’en the hope that threwA moment’s sparkle o’er our tears,Is dimm’d and vanish’d too!5. Oh! who could bear life’s stormy doom,Did not Thy wing of loveCome brightly wafting through the gloomOur peace-branch from above!6. Then, sorrow, touch’d by Thee, grows brightWith more than rapture’s ray,As darkness shows us worlds of light,We never saw by day.
1. O Thou, who dry’st the mourner’s tear,How dark this world would be,If, when deceived and wounded here,We could not fly to Thee!
1. O Thou, who dry’st the mourner’s tear,
How dark this world would be,
If, when deceived and wounded here,
We could not fly to Thee!
2. The friends, who in our sunshine live,When winter comes, are flown;And he who has but tears to give,Must weep those tears alone.
2. The friends, who in our sunshine live,
When winter comes, are flown;
And he who has but tears to give,
Must weep those tears alone.
3. But Thou wilt heal the broken heartWhich like the plants that throwTheir fragrance from the wounded part,Breathes sweetness out of woe.
3. But Thou wilt heal the broken heart
Which like the plants that throw
Their fragrance from the wounded part,
Breathes sweetness out of woe.
4. When joy no longer soothes or cheers,And e’en the hope that threwA moment’s sparkle o’er our tears,Is dimm’d and vanish’d too!
4. When joy no longer soothes or cheers,
And e’en the hope that threw
A moment’s sparkle o’er our tears,
Is dimm’d and vanish’d too!
5. Oh! who could bear life’s stormy doom,Did not Thy wing of loveCome brightly wafting through the gloomOur peace-branch from above!
5. Oh! who could bear life’s stormy doom,
Did not Thy wing of love
Come brightly wafting through the gloom
Our peace-branch from above!
6. Then, sorrow, touch’d by Thee, grows brightWith more than rapture’s ray,As darkness shows us worlds of light,We never saw by day.
6. Then, sorrow, touch’d by Thee, grows bright
With more than rapture’s ray,
As darkness shows us worlds of light,
We never saw by day.