Puslapio vaizdai
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IN MEMORIAM.

BOSTON:

TICKNOR, REED, AND FIELDS.

M DCCC L.

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CAMBRIDGE:

METCALF & CO., PRINTERS TO THE UNIVERSITY.

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STRONG Son of God, immortal Love,

Whom we, that have not seen thy face, By faith, and faith alone, embrace, Believing where we cannot prove;

Thine are these orbs of light and shade;

Thou madest Life in man and brute; Thou madest Death; and lo, thy foot Is on the skull which thou hast made.

Thou wilt not leave us in the dust:

Thou madest man, he knows not why;
He thinks he was not made to die;

And thou hast made him: thou art just.

Thou seemest human and divine,

The highest, holiest manhood, thou: Our wills are ours, we know not how ; Our wills are ours, to make them thine.

Our little systems have their day;

They have their day and cease to be: They are but broken lights of thee, And thou, O Lord, art more than they.

We have but faith: we cannot know;

For knowledge is of things we see ; And yet we trust it comes from thee, A beam in darkness: let it grow.

Let knowledge grow from more to more, But more of reverence in us dwell; That mind and soul, according well, May make one music as before,

But vaster.

We are fools and slight;
We mock thee when we do not fear:
But help thy foolish ones to bear ;

Help thy vain worlds to bear thy light.

my

Forgive what seemed
sin in me;
What seemed my worth since I began ;
For merit lives from man to man,
And not from man, O Lord, to thee.

Forgive my grief for one removed,

Thy creature, whom I found so fair.
I trust he lives in thee, and there
I find him worthier to be loved.

Forgive these wild and wandering cries,
Confusions of a wasted youth;

Forgive them where they fail in truth,

And in thy wisdom make me wise.

1849.

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