Thought, dream, and action, ev’ry pulse of soul
The awe of Christ will solemnly control:
Girt by the Spirit, wheresoe’er they rove,
True faith is feeding on His breath of love.
R. Montgomery.
How sweetly wide this Sabbath morn
The chime of village bells is sent
O’er the hamlets, o’er the fields,
With Sabbath sunshine blent.
The noble hears and quits his hall—