The Dove, on silver pinions, winged her peaceful way.

Who that hath ever been Could bear to be no more? Yet who would tread again the scene He trod through life before?

Prayer is the soul's sincere desire, Uttered or unexpressed, The motion of a hidden fire That trembles in the breast. Prayer is the burden of a sigh, The falling of a tear, The upward glancing of an eye When none but God is near.

Time is eternity begun.

When the good man yields his breath (For the good man never dies).

Hymns should have unity, graduation and mutual dependence in the thoughts, a conscious progress, a sense of completeness and be easily understood.

Blue thou art, intensely blue; Flower, whence came thy dazzling hue?