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Mr. Thomas W. White
Publisher of the Southern Lit. Messenger
Richmond
Sacred Song
Oh Strike the Harp
Oh! strike the Harp while yet there lies
In Music's breath the power to please,
And if the tears should fill mine eyes,
They can but give my bosom ease.
But hush the notes of Love & Mirth,
Too welcome to my heart before;
For now those airs that breathe of earth
Can charm my pensive soul no more.
Yes, I have loved the world too well,
And roved in Pleasure's train too long;
And I have felt her sweetest spell
In Beauty's smile, & Passion's song.
But now my soul would break her chains,
While yet perhaps the grace is given,
Then strike the Harp to Zion's strains,
And she shall soar at once to heaven.
(Turn Over)
