Maxioms by John Greenleaf Whittier
When faith is lost, when honor dies, the man is dead.
When faith is lost, when honor dies, the man is dead.
Alas for him who never sees
The stars shine through his cypress-trees
Who, hopeless, lays his dead read more
Alas for him who never sees
The stars shine through his cypress-trees
Who, hopeless, lays his dead away,
Nor looks to see the breaking day
Across the mournful marbles play!
We search the world for truth; we cull
The good, the pure, the beautiful,
From all old read more
We search the world for truth; we cull
The good, the pure, the beautiful,
From all old flower fields of the soul;
And, weary seeker of the best,
We come back laden from out quest,
To find that all the sages said
Is in the Book our mothers read.
They tell me, Lucy, thou art dead, That all of thee we loved and cherished Has with thy summer roses read more
They tell me, Lucy, thou art dead, That all of thee we loved and cherished Has with thy summer roses perished; And left, as its young beauty fled, An ashen memory in its stead.
Continuing a short series on forgiveness: When on my day of life the night is falling, And, in read more
Continuing a short series on forgiveness: When on my day of life the night is falling, And, in the winds from unsunned spaces blown, I hear far voices out of darkness calling My feet to paths unknown, Thou who hast made my home of life so pleasant Leave not its tenant when its walls decay; O Love Divine, O Helper ever-present, Be Thou my strength and stay! Be near me when all else is from me drifting; Earth, sky, home's pictures, days of shade and shine, And kindly faces to my own uplifting The love that answers mine. I have but Thee, my Father! let Thy spirit Be with me then to comfort and uphold; No gate of pearl, no branch of palm I merit, Nor street of shining gold. Suffice it if -- my good and ill unreckoned, And both forgiven through Thy abounding grace - I find myself by hands familiar beckoned Unto my fitting place.
