Poetry is unfallen speech. Paradise knew no other, for no other would suffice to answer the need of those ecstatic days of innocence.
ABRAHAM COLESWith dazzling pomp descending angels sung Good will and peace to men, to God due praise, Who on the errand of salvation sent
More Abraham Coles Quotes
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With dazzling pomp descending angels sung Good will and peace to men, to God due praise, Who on the errand of salvation sent
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Within a bony labrinthean cave, Reached by the pulse of the aerial wave, This sibyl, sweet, and Mystic Sense is found, Muse, that presides o’er all the Powers of Sound.
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Thee, Son Beloved! of plural Unity Essential part, made flesh that mad’st all worlds.
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Much of our ignorance is of ourselves. Our eyes are full of dust. Prejudice blinds us.
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The weary Body, longing for repose, On the gained level of the day’s ascent, Halts for the night and pitches there its tent.
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The rapturous touch of some divine surpriseFlash deep suffusion of celestial dyes
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On eyes that watch as well as eyes that weep Descends the solemn mystery of sleep, Toiling and climbing to the very close
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I value science–none can prize it more, It gives ten thousand motives to adore: Be it religious, as it ought to be, The heart it humbles, and it bows the knee.
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Death separates, but it also unites. It reunites whom it separates.
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Where our fathers in fight, nobly strove for the Right, Struck down their fierce foemen or put them to flight
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Be every bar, and every star, Displayed in full and glorious manner! Blow, zephyrs, blow, keep the dear ensign flying! Blow, zephyrs, sweetly mournful, sighing, sighing, sighing!
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Taking our stand on the immovable rock of Christ’s character we risk nothing in saying that the wine of miracle answered to the wine of nature, and was not intoxicating.
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O, beautiful and grand, My own, my native land! Of thee I boast: Great empire of the west, The dearest and the best, Made up of all the rest, I love thee most.
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The power to bind and loose to Truth is given: The mouth that speaks it is the mouth of Heaven
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None of the prophets old, So lofty or so bold! No form of danger shakes his dauntless breast; In loneliness sublime
ABRAHAM COLES