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Rapt into still communion that transcends The imperfect offices of prayer and praise, His mind was a thanksgiving to the power That made him it was blessedness and love!

William Wordsworth

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William Wordsworth
Age: 80 †
Born: 1770
Born: April 7
Died: 1850
Died: April 23
Lyricist
Poet
Cockermouth
Cumbria
Wordsworth
Made
Communion
Mind
Imperfect
Love
Praise
Office
Rapt
Prayer
Blessedness
Stills
Transcends
Power
Offices
Still
Thanksgiving

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But to a higher mark than song can reach, Rose this pure eloquence.
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Turning, for them who pass, the common dust Of servile opportunity to gold.
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'Tis my faith that every flower Enjoys the air it breathes!
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A perfect woman, nobly planned, To warn, to comfort, and command And yet a Spirit still, and bright With something of angelic light
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And the most difficult of tasks to keep Heights which the soul is competent to gain.
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Wild is the music of autumnal winds Amongst the faded woods.
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Poetry is most just to its divine origin, when it administers the comforts and breathes the thoughts of religion.
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The tears into his eyes were brought, And thanks and praises seemed to run So fast out of his heart, I thought They never would have done. -I've heard of hearts unkind, kind deeds With coldness still returning Alas! the gratitude of men Hath oftener left me mourning.
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Before us lay a painful road, And guidance have I sought in duteous love From Wisdom's heavenly Father. Hence hath flowed Patience, with trust that, whatsoe'er the way Each takes in this high matter, all may move Cheered with the prospect of a brighter day.
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