COMES THY SPIRIT O'ER THE WATERS.
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I bless it, for the power it gave
To turn the past to joy,
And in its present vigor brave
The griefs that would destroy.
To turn the past to joy,
And in its present vigor brave
The griefs that would destroy.
A universe whose every space
With melodies abound;
A language written on each face,
Made eloquent with sound;
A beauty in each timid flower
That loves the morning-breeze;
It showed me in one little hour—
The hand that touched the keys.
With melodies abound;
A language written on each face,
Made eloquent with sound;
A beauty in each timid flower
That loves the morning-breeze;
It showed me in one little hour—
The hand that touched the keys.
A feeling that the world was mine
And I was heaven's alone;
A wish to kneel at every shrine
Built to the Great Unknown;
A spirit meek as love's, nor less
Omnipotent to please;
O! be it God's or man's, I bless
The hand that touched the keys.
And I was heaven's alone;
A wish to kneel at every shrine
Built to the Great Unknown;
A spirit meek as love's, nor less
Omnipotent to please;
O! be it God's or man's, I bless
The hand that touched the keys.
COMES THY SPIRIT O'ER THE WATERS.
Comes thy spirit o'er the waters,
When the stars wake in the west,
Like a bird of passage, back again
To its deserted nest?
When the stars wake in the west,
Like a bird of passage, back again
To its deserted nest?
