Angels in the early morning


Angels in the early morning
May be seen the dews among,
Stooping, plucking, smiling, flying:
Do the buds to them belong?

Angels when the sun is hottest
May be seen the sands among,
Stooping, plucking, sighing, flying;
Parched the flowers they bear along.

Angels in the Early Morning by Emily Dickinson


O Lord, when on thy various works we look


O Lord, when on thy various works we look,
How richly furnish’d is the earth we tread!
Where in the fair contents of Nature’s book
We may the wonders of thy wisdom read…

from “Psalm CIV” by Henry Wotton 1568 – 1639

Through all this life’s eventful road

pink roses

Through all this life’s eventful road,
Fain would I walk with thee, my God,
And find thy presence light around,
And every step on holy ground.

Each blessing would I trace to thee;
In every grief, thy mercy see;
And through the paths of duty move,
Conscious of thine encircling love.

And when the angel Death stands by,
Be this my strength, that thou art nigh;
And this my joy, that I shall be
With those who dwell in light with thee.

“Walking with God” The Christian Hymn Book, 1861.

I called the little pool a sea


I called the little pool a sea;
The little hills were big to me;
For I am very small.
I made a boat, I made a town,
I searched the caverns up and down,
And named them one and all.

And all about was mine, I said,
The little sparrows overhead,
The little minnows too.
This was the world and I was king;
For me the bees came by to sing,
For me the swallows flew.

from My Kingdom by Robert Louis Stevenson

Joyful, joyful, we adore Thee

make a joyful shout to the Lord

Joyful, joyful, we adore Thee,
God of glory, Lord of love;
Hearts unfold like flow’rs before Thee,
Op’ning to the sun above.
Melt the clouds of sin and sadness;
Drive the dark of doubt away;
Giver of immortal gladness,
Fill us with the light of day!

from “Joyful, Joyful, We Adore Thee” by Henry J. van Dyke 1907

Summer met me in the glade

Summer met me in the glade,
With a host of fair princesses,
Golden iris, foxgloves staid,
Sunbeams flecked their gorgeous dresses.
Roses followed in her train,
Creamy elder-flowers beset me,
Singing, down the scented lane,
Summer met me!

Summer met me! Harebells rang,
Honeysuckle clustered near,
As the royal pageant sang
Songs enchanting to the ear.
Rainy days may come apace,
Nevermore to grieve or fret me,
Since, in all her radiant grace,
Summer met me!

Summer Met Me by Elizabeth Rebecca Ward

No man can think nor in himself perceive

trunk, vine, bud

No man can think nor in himself perceive,
Sometimes at waking, in the street sometimes,
Or on the hillside, always unforwarned.
A grace of being, finer than himself,
That beckons and is gone,—a larger life
Upon his own impinging, with swift glimpse
Of spacious circles luminous with mind,
To which the ethereal substance of his own
Seems but gross cloud to make that visible,
Touched to a sudden glory round the edge…

from “The Cathedral” by James Russell Lowell