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——— Who, when nought is heard around
But the great ocean's solemn sound,
Feels not as if the eternal God
Were speaking in that dread abode 1
An answering voice seems kindly given,
From the multitude of stars in heaven:
And oft a smile of moonlight fair,
To perfect peace has changed despair.
Low as we are, we blend our fate
With things so beautifully great.
And though opprest with heaviest grief,
From nature's bliss we draw relief,
Assured that God's most gracious eye
Beholds us in our misery,
And sends mild sound and lovely sight,
To change that misery to delight.
Wilson.
But the great ocean's solemn sound,
Feels not as if the eternal God
Were speaking in that dread abode 1
An answering voice seems kindly given,
From the multitude of stars in heaven:
And oft a smile of moonlight fair,
To perfect peace has changed despair.
Low as we are, we blend our fate
With things so beautifully great.
And though opprest with heaviest grief,
From nature's bliss we draw relief,
Assured that God's most gracious eye
Beholds us in our misery,
And sends mild sound and lovely sight,
To change that misery to delight.
Wilson.
In the bottle discontent seeks for comfort, cowardice for courage, and bashfulness for confidence.
Johnson.
Night is the time for rest;
How sweet when labours close,
To gather round an aching breast
The curtain of repose:
Stretch the tired limbs and lay the head
Upon our own delightful bed!
How sweet when labours close,
To gather round an aching breast
The curtain of repose:
Stretch the tired limbs and lay the head
Upon our own delightful bed!
