Poems by Eliza Paul Kirkbride Gurney

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Alas! they have left me all alone
Hush, hush! my thoughts are resting on a changeless world of bliss;
Poor throbbing heart! the battle wave of life
'Tis not when we look on the dreamless dead,
"The accuser of the brethren!"
Fare thee well, we've no wish to detain thee,
Turn from the grave, turn from the grave,
Bright summer comes, all bloom and flowers,
In this book I have scribbled some innocent rhymes,
Oh, when I found that Death had set
Kindness soothes the bitter anguish,
To the heart of trusting childhood life is all a gilded way,
My father! Oh! I cannot dwell
... "They that turn many to righteousness,
Oh, for a home of rest!
"To-day" Oh! not to-day shall sound
"Thou great First Cause," Creator, King, and Lord,
When our bosoms were lightest,
And this man was "an infidel!" Ah, no!
Ye have met, ye have met, disencumbered of pain,
Fare thee well, fare thee well, for thy journey is o'er,
Oh! say, shall those ties, now so sacred and dear,
Thou art come from the spirits' land, thou bird!
Shepherd of Israel! o'er Thy fold
Oh! the world looks glad, for the spring has smiled,
When rainbow hues of closing day
Hail, pensile gem, that thus can softly gild
Why should "the little remnant mourn?"
The God of glory thundereth! who hath not heard His voice,
The last look is taken, the last word is said
So soft Time's plumage in life's budding spring,
When darkness over Egypt reigned,
They have met, they have met! now their pinions unfurl
Oh! Time, as it fleets, dooms a joy to decay,
Ah! be not sad, though adverse winds may blow,
The Lord's portion is his people, Jacob is the lot of his inheritance. He found him in a desert land, and in the waste howling wilderness. He led him about, he instructed him, he kept him as the apple of his eye. As an eagle stirreth up her nest, flu
Ah! know ye not in Israel
Oh, the brow that has never been shaded by care
I thought those youthful hearts were bleak and bare,
Great and omnipotent that Power must be,
Trust not Hope's illusive ray,
Judge we of coming, by the by-past, years,
Gay visions for thee 'neath hope's pencil have glowed,

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