514
L. M.
Soft be the gently breathing notes.
Soft be the gently breathing notes
That sing the Saviour’s dying love;
Soft as the evening zephyr floats,
Soft as the tuneful lyres above:
Soft as the morning dews descend,
While warbling birds exulting soar;
So soft to our almighty Friend
Be every sigh our bosoms pour.
2 Pure as the sun’s enlivening ray,
That scatters life and joy abroad;
Pure as the lucid orb of day,
That wide proclaims its Maker, God;
Pure as the breath of vernal skies,
So pure let our contrition be;
And purely let our sorrows rise
To him who bled upon the tree.
Collyer.