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Blest be the eye which lives that day to see! The grave may wrap me ere its glorious sun;
Even, Father, as Thou wilt; but Thou art He That sees the sparrow perish from thy throne. Father, in life or death, thy sovereign will be done.
Ye stars, bright legions, that, before all time,
Camped on yon plain of sapphire, what shall tell Your burning myriads, but the eye of Him
Who bade through heaven your golden chariots wheel?
Yet who, earthborn, can see your hosts, nor feel Immortal impulses. Eternity !
What wonder if the o'erwrought soul shall reel With its own weight of thought, and the wild eye See fate within your tracks of sleepless glory lie?
From that steep, What ages have ye worshipped round your King! Ye heard his trumpet sounded o'er the sleep
Of earth; ye heard the morning angels sing.
Upon that orb, now.o'er me quivering, The gaze of Adam fixed from Paradise ;
The wanderers of the deluge saw it spring Above the mountain surge, and hailed its rise, Lighting their lonely track with hope's celestial dyes.
O, LISTEN, man!
Man, thou shalt never die!” Celestial voices
Of morning sung together, sound forth still
Ay, thou art welcome, heaven's delicious breath!
When woods begin to wear the crimson leaf,
And suns grow-meek, and the meek suns grow brief, And the year smiles as it draws near its death. Wind of the sunny South! O, still delay
In the gay woods and in the golden air,—
Like to a good old age, released from care,
Might wear out life, like thee, 'mid bowers and brooks,
And, dearer yet, the sunshine of kind looks,
And, when my last sand twinkled in the glass,