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Every chain that spirits wear crumbles in the breadth of prayer.
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
Spirits
Chains
Wear
Prayer
Spirit
Every
Crumbles
Breadth
Chain
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Beauty is its own excuse.
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Thanks to Allah, who gives the palm!
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The sun that brief December day Rose cheerless over hills of gray, And, darkly circled, gave at noon A sadder light than waning moon.
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Freedom's soil hath only place For a free and fearless race!
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This is truth the poet sings . . .
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And light is mingled with the gloom, And joy with grief Divinest compensations come, Through thorns of judgment mercies bloom In sweet relief.
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What, my soul, was thy errand here? Was it mirth or ease, Or heaping up dust from year to year? Nay, none of these! Speak, soul, aright in His holy sight, Whose eye looks still And steadily on thee through the night To do His will!
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The tints of autumn...a mighty flower garden blossoming under the spell of the enchanter, frost.
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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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And let these altars, wreathed with flowers And piled with fruits, awake again Thanksgivings for the golden hours, The early and the latter rain!
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With silence only as their benediction, God's angels come Where in the shadow of a great affliction, The soul sits dumb!
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Despair is infidelity and death.
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Simple duty hath no place for fear.
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Give lettered pomp to teeth of Time, So Bonnie Doon but tarry Blot out the epic's stately rhyme, But spare his Highland Mary!
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A charmed life old goodness hath the tares may perish, but the grain is not for death.
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The age is dull and mean. Men creep, Not walk with blood too pale and tame To pay the debt they owe to shame Buy cheap, sell dear eat. drink, and sleep down-pillowed, deaf to moaning want Pay tithes for soul-insurance keep Six days to Mammon, one to Cant
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Give fools their gold, and knaves their power let fortune's bubbles rise and fall who sows a field, or trains a flower, or plants a tree, is more than all.
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Love hath never known a law beyond its own sweet will.
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Better heresy of doctrine than heresy of heart.
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Falsehoods which we spurn today, were the truths of long ago.
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