Imatges de pàgina
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THE STRANGER-GUEST.

THE STRANGER-GUEST.1

T was a sunny Sabbath morn, the spring-time of the year,

The earth look'd green and beautiful,

the sky look'd bright and clear, And softly blew the freshening breeze and sweetly rose the lay

Of feather'd woodland choristers blithe as the newborn day!

'To * *

Ere upon thy pillow thou

Shalt to-night compose thy brow
And to guardian saints commend
Parent, brother, sister, friend,
Let, once more, a lyre be heard
That of old thy bosom stirr'd.

Greet the Minstrel while thou may'st,

For he passeth on in haste,

Soon a higher, happier sphere

Will his solemn harpings hear!

The village bells for matins rang, their soothing, solemn sound

In every heart a glad response, a joyful echo found, Their music in the olden time had summon'd sire

and son

While here they ran their earthly race-and when that race was run!

It was a pleasant sight to see how met, with one accord,

The old and young, the rich and poor, in peace, to praise the Lord,

And how content and cheerfulness and serious

thought did seem

In every grateful heart to glow, in every eye to beam!

Among the Christian Worshippers who pray'd to be forgiven,

To do their Father's will on earth and see his face

in heaven,

Was one, a lonely wayfarer from some far-distant

land,

Whom time, stern monitor! had touch'd, but with a tender hand.

Deep thought in mournful majesty sat on his lofty

brow,

His cheek, if it had once been fair, was dark and sunburnt now,

His stately form with tremor shook, his eyes were dim with tears,

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