garnered sheaves the complete poetical works

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Stran 370 - In the light of that star Lie the ages impearled ; And that song from afar Has swept over the world. Every hearth is aflame, and the Beautiful sing In the homes of the nations that Jesus is King.
Stran 25 - By which the mannikin feels his way Out from the shore of the great unknown, Blind, and wailing, and alone, Into the light of day? — Out from the shore of the unknown sea, Tossing in pitiful agony, — Of the unknown sea that reels and rolls, Specked with the barks of little souls — Barks that were launched on the other side, And slipped from Heaven on an ebbing tide...
Stran 344 - HEAVEN is not reached at a single bound ; But we build the ladder by which we rise ; From the lowly earth to the vaulted skies, And we mount to its summit round by round.
Stran 72 - Life evermore is fed by death, In earth and sea and sky ; And, that a rose may breathe its breath. Something must die.
Stran 344 - We rise by the things that are under feet ; By what we have mastered of good and gain; By the pride deposed and the passion slain, And the vanquished ills that we hourly meet.
Stran 18 - ... And rules the world alone. There is no good ; there is no God ; And Faith is a heartless cheat Who bares the back for the Devil's rod, And scatters thorns for the feet. What are prayers in the lips of death, Filling and chilling with hail ? What are prayers but wasted breath Beaten back by the gale...
Stran 68 - Sixteen barrels of cider Ripening all in a row! Open the vent-channels wider ! See the froth, drifted like snow, Blown by the tempest below ! Those delectable juices Flowed through the sinuous sluices Of sweet springs under the orchard ; Climbed into fountains that chained them ; Dripped into cups that retained them, And swelled till they dropped, and we gained them.
Stran 70 - Hearts, like apples, are hard and sour, Till crushed by Pain's resistless power ; And yield their juices rich and bland To none but Sorrow's heavy hand. The purest streams of human love Flow naturally never, But gush by pressure from above, With God's hand on the lever. The first are turbidest and meanest ; The last are sweetest and serenest.
Stran 344 - I count this thing to be grandly true; That a noble deed is a step toward God — Lifting the soul from the common clod To a purer air and a broader view.
Stran 58 - We trace to Thee our joys and woes, — To Thee of causes still the cause, — We thank Thee that Thy hand bestows ; We bless Thee that Thy love withdraws. We bring no sorrows to Thy throne ; We come to Thee with no complaint ; In Providence Thy will is done, And that is sacred to the saint.

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