Aaron Hill

When Christ at Cana's feast by pow'r divine,
Inspir'd cold water, with the warmth of wine,
See! read more

When Christ at Cana's feast by pow'r divine,
Inspir'd cold water, with the warmth of wine,
See! cry'd they while, in red'ning tide, it gush'd,
The bashful stream hath seen its God and blush'd.

Who backs his rigid Sabbath, so to speak,
Against the wicked remnant of the week."

Who backs his rigid Sabbath, so to speak,
Against the wicked remnant of the week."

The more the eggs, the worse the hatch,
The more the fish, the worse the catch.

The more the eggs, the worse the hatch,
The more the fish, the worse the catch.

To his tuned spirit the wild heather-bells
Ring Sabbath knells;
The sod's a cushion for his pious read more

To his tuned spirit the wild heather-bells
Ring Sabbath knells;
The sod's a cushion for his pious want,
And, consecrated by the heaven within it,
The sky-blue pool a font.

But, oh! the love that gold must crown!

But, oh! the love that gold must crown!