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DOVELIKE CHILDREN WALLPAPER

dovelike children

Then every man, of every clime, That prays in his distress, Prays to the human form divine: Sweet moan, sweeter smile, All the dovelike moans beguile. Now they look abroad to see, Now return and weep for me. Oh what a multitude they seemed, these flowers of London town! Then cherish pity, lest you drive an angel from your door. They look in every thoughtless nest Where birds are covered warm; They visit caves of every beast, To keep them all from harm:

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Sweet babe, in thy face Holy image I can trace; Sweet babe, once like thee Thy Maker lay, and wept for me: Where lambs have nibbled, silent move The feet of angels bright; Unseen they pour blessing, And joy without ceasing, On each bud and blossom, And each sleeping bosom. And pitying the tender cries, And walking round the fold: If they see any weeping That should have been sleeping, They pour sleep on their head, And sit down by their bed.

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Then every man, of every clime, That prays in his distress, Prays to the human form divine: He kissed the child, and by the hand led, And to his mother brought, Who in sorrow pale, through the lonely dale, The little boy weeping sought. All creation slept and smiled.

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And all must love the human form, In heathen, Turk, or Jew. Seated in companies they sit, with radiance all their own. Thou His image ever see, Heavenly face that smiles on thee! Smiles on thee, on me, on all, Who became an infant small; Infant smiles are his own smiles; Heaven and earth to peace beguiles.

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Sweet smiles, in the night Hover over my delight! Troubled, wildered, and forlorn, Dark, benighted, travel-worn, Over many a tangle spray, All heart-broke, I heard her say: But, if they rush dreadful, The angels, most heedful, Receive each mild spirit, New worlds to inherit.

The hum of multitudes was there, but multitudes of lambs, Thousands of little boys and girls raising their innocent hands.

Wept for me, for thee, for all, When He was an infant small. Sweet moans, dovelike sighs, Chase not slumber from thine eyes! When wolves and tigers howl for prey, They pitying stand and weep; Seeking to drive their thirst away, And keep them from the sheep.

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Sweet Joy I call thee: Thou childrsn smile, I sing the while; Sweet joy befall thee!

Beneath them sit the aged man, wise guardians of the poor. Enviado por jonatas lima fraga flag Denunciar.

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Sweet moan, sweeter smile, All the dovelike moans beguile. Sweet joy, but two days old. Love, Mercy, Pity, Peace. Now they look abroad to see, Now return and weep for me. Then cherish pity, lest you drive an angel from your door. Sleep, sleep, happy child!

Sweet dreams of pleasant streams By happy, silent, moony childten They look in every thoughtless nest Where birds are covered warm; They visit caves of every beast, To keep them all from harm: Oh what a multitude they seemed, these flowers of London town! Now like a mighty wild they raise to heaven the voice of song, Or like harmonious thunderings the seats of heaven among: