But sweeter than the sweetest word
Recorded of the wise and good,
His silence is a music heard
On high, and understood.
Blessed are all who take their part
Amid the carol-singing throng;
Thrice blest the meditative heart
Whose silence is a song.
Ballachulish: 1884.
A CRADLE SONG.
Sing, ye winds, and sing, ye waters,
May the music of your song
Silence all the dark forebodings
That have plagued the world too long;
He who made your voices tuneful
Comes to right the wrong.
Warble on, ye feathered songsters,
Lift your praises loud and high,
Merry lark, and thrush, and blackbird,
In the grove and in the sky
Make your music, shame our dumbness,
Till we make reply.
Children's laughter is a music
Flowing from a hidden spring,
Which, though men misdoubt its virtue,
Well is worth discovering;
Slowly dies the heart that knows not
How to laugh and sing.
Hark, a cradle-song! the Singer
Is the Heart of God Most High;
All sweet voices are the echoes
That in varied tones reply
To that Voice which through the ages
Sings earth's lullaby.