Hymn of Nature.

—William B. O. Peabody.

GOD of the earth’s extended plains!
The dark green fields contented lie:
The mountains rise like holy towers,
Where man might commune with the sky:
The tall cliff challenges the storm
That lowers upon the vale below,
Where shaded fountains send their streams,
With joyous music in their flow.

Read more of this post

Advertisements

God Is Love.

—Thomas R. Taylor.

All I feel, and hear, and see,

God of love, is full of Thee.

 

EARTH, with her ten thousand flowers

Air, with all its beams and showers:

Ocean’s infinite expanse;

Heaven’s resplendent countenance—

All around, and all above,

Hath this record,—“God is love!”

 

Read more of this post

Matins.

—William H. Burleigh.

FOR the dear love that kept us through the night,
And gave our senses to sleep’s gentle sway,—
For the new miracle of dawning light
Flushing the east with prophecies of day.
We thank thee, O our God!

Read more of this post

Thanks.

—Marianne Farningham.

I THANK thee, Father, for the summer-time,
The golden days of glory and delight,—
The days when the glad year is in its prime,
Warmed by Thy love, and by Thy smile made bright.

Read more of this post

God’s Love.

—M. H. Wetherbee. (Stone-Cutter.)

GOD’S Spirit smiles in flowers,
And in soft summer showers
He sends his love.
Each dew drop speaks his praise,
And bubbling fount displays,
In all their lucid rays,
Light from above.

Read more of this post

Day is Dying in the West.

—Mary Artemisia Lathbury.

Evening Praise.

DAY is dying in the west;
Heaven is touching earth with rest:
Wait and worship while the night
Sets her evening lamps alight
Through all the sky

Read more of this post

Vesper Hymn.

—Samuel Longfellow.

 

NOW, on sea and land descending,

Brings the night its peace profound:

Let our vesper hymn be blending

With the holy calm around.

Soon as dies the sunset glory,

Stars of heaven shine out above,

Telling still the ancient story,—

Their Creator’s changeless love.

 

Read more of this post

In the Garden.

—C. Austin Miles.

I.

I COME to the garden alone

While the dew is still on the roses

And the voice I hear,

Falling on my ear,

The Son of God discloses,

 

And He walks with me, and He talks with me,

And He tells me I am His own;

And the Joy we share as we tarry there,

None other has ever known.

 

Read more of this post

A Song for Morning or Evening.

—Isaac Watts.

‘They are new every morning.’ —Lamentations 3:23.

MY God, how endless is thy love!

Thy gifts are every evening new;

And morning mercies, from above,

Gently distil like early dew.

 

Read more of this post