★ Find a new page to transcribe in our list of Untranscribed Manuscripts
Auto loaded |
No edit summary |
||
| (4 intermediate revisions by 2 users not shown) | |||
| Line 2: | Line 2: | ||
'''[{{fullurl:JB/110/246/001|action=edit}} Click Here To Edit]''' | '''[{{fullurl:JB/110/246/001|action=edit}} Click Here To Edit]''' | ||
<!-- ENTER TRANSCRIPTION BELOW THIS LINE --> | <!-- ENTER TRANSCRIPTION BELOW THIS LINE --> | ||
<p>55<lb/> | |||
<head><hi rend="underline">Friday Morning</hi></head></p> | |||
'' | <p>There, where the ready <del><gap/></del> Sun sublimely soaring<lb/> | ||
Gives life & beauty to the waking <del>song</del> <add>scene</add><lb/> | |||
There where the pale light from the orient pouring<lb/> | |||
Sheds its soft influence o'er the deep serene. | |||
There when the Cedars overhang the mountain. | |||
And <del>the pact ages and sleeping neath you</del> <add>million memories sleep beneath the</add> sod; | |||
Where palms of peace are waving o'er the fountain | |||
The man of sorrows gave himself to God. | |||
The heaven was veil'd in clouds, – affrighted nature<lb/> | |||
Trembled, – the Sin <del>wat <gap/></del> <add>relived</add> – & earth was still'd<lb/> | |||
With a dread<del>ful</del> silence – every living creature<lb/> | |||
Shock – & the great salvation was fulfill'd.<lb/> | |||
Malice has done its worst – & disappointed<lb/> | |||
<del>It sees him trampling</del> <add>The very grave must</add> yield its mighty spoil<lb/> | |||
Why hurl thy bolts against the heavens annointed<lb/> | |||
That bolt with dreadful vengeance shall recoil</p> | |||
<!-- DO NOT EDIT BELOW THIS LINE --> | <!-- DO NOT EDIT BELOW THIS LINE --> | ||
{{Metadata:{{PAGENAME}}}} | {{Metadata:{{PAGENAME}}}}{{Completed}} | ||
55
Friday Morning
There, where the ready Sun sublimely soaring
Gives life & beauty to the waking song scene
There where the pale light from the orient pouring
Sheds its soft influence o'er the deep serene.
There when the Cedars overhang the mountain.
And the pact ages and sleeping neath you million memories sleep beneath the sod;
Where palms of peace are waving o'er the fountain
The man of sorrows gave himself to God.
The heaven was veil'd in clouds, – affrighted nature
Trembled, – the Sin wat relived – & earth was still'd
With a dreadful silence – every living creature
Shock – & the great salvation was fulfill'd.
Malice has done its worst – & disappointed
It sees him trampling The very grave must yield its mighty spoil
Why hurl thy bolts against the heavens annointed
That bolt with dreadful vengeance shall recoil
|
Identifier: | JB/110/246/001"JB/" can not be assigned to a declared number type with value 110. |
|||
|---|---|---|---|
|
110 |
of laws in general |
||
|
246 |
|||
|
001 |
friday morning |
||
|
collectanea |
4 |
||
|
recto |
|||
|
sir john bowring |
[[watermarks::[partial motif] <…>19]] |
||
|
1819 |
|||
|
36236 |
|||
