Who that hath ever been Could bear to be no more? Yet who would tread again the scene He trod through life before?
Time is eternity begun.
While rose-buds scarcely show'd their hue, But coyly linger'd on the thorn.
When the good man yields his breath (For the good man never dies).
There is a flower, a little flower With silver crest and golden eye, That welcomes every changing hour, And weathers every sky.
Prayer moves the arm Which moves the world, And brings salvation down.