God loveth us! O eyes that find Life’s lesson hard to read, By tears of loss made dim and blind Learn His great love instead.

God loveth us! O hands that grasp At human tenderness, And then in emptiness unclasp, He waits to fill and bless.

Heart Songs — Part 63

God loveth us! O weary feet That find life’s pathway long, His love provides a rest so sweet The hope of it makes strong.

Heart Songs — Part 63

God loveth us! O hearts that ache With striving all in vain, His tender hand is reached to take The bitterness and pain.

Heart Songs — Part 63

God loveth us! O fallen one Creep upward to the light, God’s radiant stars shine on and on, Until the dawn grows bright.

God loveth us! in pain or bliss, O heart be true and strong, God loveth us! and knowing this, We know life’s sweetest song.

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A harvester throws up the sheaves, And hums a merry old refrain, Some thistles show their prickly leaves Among the swaths of yellow grain.

The briar bushes soft and green Quite hide the zig-gag fence away, And all the space that lies between Is carpeted with new-mown hay.

The heat of noonday presses all To rest and silence, full and deep, And still the cheery robins call To show that they are not asleep.

“O sweet white rose, I pray you tell Why in that fragrant heart of thine Where golden sunbeams seldom fell, All grace and gladness seems to dwell, And summer fragrance hold its shrine?”

“Sweet, am I,” west wind, sweet and white, Then leave me in the shadow pray, Here soft dews bathe me all the night, And no harsh sunbeam comes at light, To kiss the great white tears away.”

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A Merrie Christmasse untoe ye! The wishe is olde, the sweete refraine Of that song carolled longe agoe, When Love crepte downe o’er hille and plaine Singing, full-toned, to heartes in paine, “Peace ande goodwille!” Lete white flowers growe, A Merrie Christmasse untoe ye!

All light and love, and golden grace, One full glad day, one summer day Goes ever with me on my way, And to no other yields a place.

Do you remember Marguerite, Ah! faithful one, I need not ask, Since to forget is such a task, My strength fails toiling at it, sweet.

We climbed the path among the hills, And laughed to see the wild-birds go All startled, flying to and fro Afraid of great and unknown ills.