With here and there an oak of ancient days,
Sweet briar hedges flanked with clover beds,
In which the feathered songster trills his lays.
WORDS TO MENDELSSOHN’S “CONSOLATION.”
Lord, my poor heart, with sadness now is breaking,
Longing for light, that I may find belief,
Aching for rest from these tumultuous doubtings,
Seeking to find the path that leads to peace.
But Oh! dear Lord, my soul refuses comfort;