Songs and Saunterings: By a Poet and Naturalist (1892)

George J Breed,William Gardner Barton

Songs and Saunterings: By a Poet and Naturalist (1892)
Format
Paperback
Publisher
Kessinger Publishing
Country
United States
Published
10 September 2010
Pages
292
ISBN
9781166991074

Songs and Saunterings: By a Poet and Naturalist (1892)

George J Breed,William Gardner Barton

Purchase of this book includes free trial access to www.million-books.com where you can read more than a million books for free. This is an OCR edition with typos. Excerpt from book: . And in this connection we will listen for a moment to Mr. Barton’s poet friend. The Dumb Christ. Ay, dumb ! Why should he speak ? Had he not spoken ? But who believed? Who but at last forsook, And left him on the world’s wheel to be broken, Who had escaped the meaning of that look? Ay, dumb ! Of what avail were speaking now? Powers of the world were speaking near and far, In whom he had no part, for on his brow Was set a crown that held no glittering star; His robes were not the robes of mortal kings? The Wronged, the Bruised, the Desolated One ! Nor was his kingdom one of earthly things,? Sin’s Victim-martyr, God’s obedient Son ! Speak ? He had spoken as man never spake, Words that earth’s multitudinous dead shall yet awake/ G. J. B. Ix is More Blessed To Give Than To Receive.‘ Then will I give out of the heart’s great store, Give as the rivers flowing to the sea. Give to the full,?till I can give no more, Nor ever ask it once returned to me. Take, O ye needy, though I thirst and die, All that I have’ and am, heart, life, and limb, ZMore blessed to give than to receive. 19 Take, for the love of Christ doth sanctify, I give as I were giving unto Him. O trembling hearts that wither in the shade, Come forth and sun ye in the light of God; He hateth nothing He hath ever made, But loveth most when most doth fall the rod. Come forth, ye hungry, here is store for all ? Bread without stint, whoe'er doth crave or call. G. J. B. chapter{Section 4Beverly Bridge.?I. I, too, saw the reflection of the summer sky in the water, Had my eyes dazzled by the shimmering track of beams, Look’d at the fine centrifugal spokes of light round the shape of my head in the sun-lit water. W. Whitman. All bridges are poetic and…

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