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If thou of fortune be bereft, and in thy store there be but left two loaves, sell one, and with the dole, buy hyacinths to feed thy soul.

John Greenleaf Whittier

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John Greenleaf Whittier
Age: 84 †
Born: 1807
Born: December 17
Died: 1892
Died: September 7
Journalist
Lawyer
Poet
Writer
Haverhill
Massachusetts
Left
Bereft
Two
Store
Soul
Feed
Stores
Sell
Sells
Loaves
Thou
Hyacinths
Fortune
Dole

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Somewhat of goodness, something true From sun and spirit shining through All faiths, all worlds, as through the dark Of ocean shines the lighthouse spark, Attests the presence everywhere Of love and providential care.
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Low stir of leaves and dip of oars And lapsing waves on quiet shores.
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Like warp and woof all destinies Are woven fast, Linked in sympathy like the keys Of an organ vast. Pluck one thread, and the web ye mar Break but one Of a thousand keys, and the paining jar Through all will run.
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Leaning on Him, make with reverent meekness His own thy will.
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A little smile, a word of cheer, A bit of love from someone near, A little gift from one held dear, Best wishes for the coming year. These make a merry christmas!
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Up from the sea, the wild north wind is blowing, under the sky's gray arch. Smiling, I watch the shaken elm boughs, knowing It is the wind of March.
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O Time and change! - with hair as gray as was my sire's that winter day, how strange it seems, with so much gone of life and love, to still live on!
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They tell me, Lucy, thou art dead, that all of thee we loved and cherished has with thy summer roses perished and left, as its young beauty fled, an ashen memory in its stead.
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What does the good ship bear so well? The cocoa-nut with its stony shell, And the milky sap of its inner cell.
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Drop Thy still dews of quietness, Till all our strivings cease Take from our souls the strain and stress, And let our ordered lives confess The beauty of Thy peace.
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Around the mighty master came The marvels which his pencil wrought, Those miracles of power whose fame Is wide as human thought.
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Tradition wears a snowy beard, romance is always young.
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O brother man! fold to thy heart thy brother Where pity dwells, the peace of God is there To worship rightly is to love each other, Each smile a hymn, each kindly deed a prayer.
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Press bravely onward! - not in vainYour generous trust in human kindThe good which bloodshed could not gainYour peaceful zeal shall find.
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Thine to work as well as pray, Clearing thorny wrongs away Plucking up the weeds of sin, Letting heaven's warm sunshine in.
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Children have neither past nor future - they rejoice in the present.
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They who wander widest lift No more of beauties' jealous veils, Than they who from their doorways see The miracle of flowers and trees.
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Romance is always young.
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The sooner we recognize the fact that the mercy of the Almighty extends to every creature endowed with life, the better it will be for us as men and Christians.
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Before me, even as behind, God is, and all is well.
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