And can I, may I, silent be?
When all God's glorious works I see
My soul desires to know him.
When all are singing I must sing,
And to the Highest I must bring
The tribute which I owe him.
Are all things here so bright and fair,
And has he with a loving care
My happy being given?
What, in the glorious world above,
Where all is beauty, all is love,—
What shall I be in heaven?
O, were I there! O, stood I now
In that great Presence! there to bow
In grateful love before him,
Then would I with the angels raise
One never-ending song of praise,
And worship and adore him!
[TO A BEAUTIFUL GIRL.]
Sweet flower! so young, so fresh, so fair,
Bright pleasure sparkling in thine eye,
Alas! e'en thee time will not spare,
And thou must die.
The heart with youthful hope so gay,
That scarcely ever breathed a sigh,
Must weep o'er pleasures fled away,
For all must die.
But though the rosy cheek may fade,
The virtuous wish, the purpose high,
The bloom with which the soul's arrayed,
Shall never die.