818
C. M.
O that I had wings like a dove.
Psalm 55:6.
The dove, let loose in eastern skies,
Returning fondly home,
Ne’er stoops to earth her wing, nor flies
Where idle warblers roam;—
2 But high she shoots through air and light
Above all low delay,
Where nothing earthly bounds her flight,
Nor shadow dims her way.
3 So grant me, Lord, from every snare
And stain of passion free,
Aloft, through faith’s serener air,
To urge my course to thee;—
4 No sin to cloud, no lure to stay,
My soul as home she springs;
Thy sunshine on her joyful way
Thy freedom on her wings.
Moore.