Another:[1]
"For a tear is an intellectual thing,
And a sigh is the sword of an angel king,
And the bitter groan of a martyr's woe
Is an arrow from the Almighty's bow."
It may be well said of such poetry as this, such thrilling lines as these, that they are "Thoughts that breathe and words that burn." There is another, very tender:[2]
"Little lamb, who made thee?
Dost thou know who made thee,
Gave thee life and bid thee feed
By the stream and o'er the mead,
Gave thee clothing of delight,
Softest clothing woolly light,
Gave thee such a tender voice,
Making all the vales rejoice?
Little lamb, who made thee?
Dost thou know who made thee?
Little lamb, I'll tell thee,
Little lamb, I'll tell thee,
He is callèd by thy name,
For He calls himself a lamb,
He is meek and He is mild,
He became a little child;
I a child and thou a lamb,
We are called by His name.
Little lamb, God bless thee,
Little lamb, God bless thee."
There is another in which is beautifully related the tender and exquisite circumstance of a mother
