صور الصفحة
PDF
النشر الإلكتروني

The Church of Rome.

I LOVE thee, holy Church of Rome,
For hallowed is thy ground;

Our Lord hath made His earthly home,
Upon thine altars found.

Mother, and queen of Christendom,

Spouse of our God most high; For thee, O holy Church of Rome, I'd lay me down and die!

O Church of Rome, thou art the one
White pearl of all the earth ;
The home of Heaven's outcast son,
The country of his birth.

Heaven's glory lights thy sacred dome,

And gilds thine altars high;
And for thee, holy Church of Rome,
I'd lay me down and die!

I love thee, holy Church of Rome,
Old, and for ever young :

To thee all tribes of earth shall come,
Of every race and tongue.

Firm rock, amid the ocean foam,
Bright beacon-star on high;
For thee, O holy Church of Rome,
I'd lay me down and die!

How fair thine outward gates of gold
Poor aliens know full well;
But what within thou dost unfold,
No angel's tongue can tell.
O never from thy shrine to roam,
Thine be my life's last sigh;

In thee, O holy Church of Rome,
I'll lay me down and die!

The Foy of a Good Conscience.

I'm a poor little child, and but briefly I pray,
And all my heart's wealth is a spirit that's gay;

My heart is so gay, for my soul is at rest,

And the beam of God's smile makes a light in my breast.

There's nothing but sin can e'er part us from Him, Who loves us in joy, as in sorrow so dim;

And I'll grieve for each fault, and for help I will pray, And in holy confession I'll wash it away.

In the fair summer morning fresh dewdrops we see On the small thirsty flow'rets of meadow and lea: Thus at mass and confession I'll try to regain Bright dewdrops to shine on my spirit again.

Robin Redbreast.

ROBIN REDBREAST! joyous singer,
In the changeful autumn tree;
When the fleeting sunbeams linger,
Dear thy music is to me.

Robin Redbreast! gay new-comer,
Dear old friend, returned again;
Saying, “Grieve not for the summer-
Both are fading, joy and pain.”

Robin Redbreast! sweetly singing
In the autumn of the year,
Though few berries may be clinging

To branch and bough for thy poor cheer;

Robin Redbreast, there is given

A happy heart, thine own to be: Wise are they who trust in Heaven, Glad, and fearless, like to thee!

Good Lodgings.

FROM THE GERMAN OF UHLAND.

A HOSPITABLE host was mine,
Courteous as few might know;
A golden apple was his sign,
Upon a long green bough.

It was the worthy apple-tree
Whose good cheer then I tasted;
Fresh juicy drink he gave to me,
And on ripe fruit I feasted.

Into his green and open house

Came many a light-winged guest;
With joyous hearts in gay carouse
They sang their very best.

No sweeter bed than mine could be
Upon the soft green meadow;
My host himself there covered me
With his cool pleasant shadow.

But when I asked, "What was to pay!"
He shook his head-joy send him!
Oh may my blessing, night and day,
From root to top attend him!

« السابقةمتابعة »