Hark, hark! the advent cry again: The angels sing His birth, "Glory to God, good will to men, And peace on earth." He comes; and eager listeners throng The lowly path He trod: For peace is ever on His tongue, The peace of God. See, His frail bark the waters fill: Yet why that faithless dread? Before His mighty "Peace, be still," The storm is fled. A weeping sinner dares to touch And bathe his feet with tears: And "Go in peace: thou lovest much," Is all she hears. His hour is come: sad bosoms heave With bodings unexpressed: Peace--grief itself forgets to grieve At His bequest. Oh, never, never, gentle Dove, Let Thy soft pleadings cease, Until we bask in light, and love, And perfect peace! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO HIS CONSCIENCE by ROBERT HERRICK THE ROSE'S MESSAGE by MARY WINCHESTER ABBOTT EPIGRAM by DECIMUS MAGNUS AUSONIUS TO HIS WORSHIPFULL GOOD FRIEND, MAISTER JOHN STEVENTON by RICHARD BARNFIELD THE FLIGHT OF TIME by J. K. BLAKE THE LONG TRUCE by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 62. FAREWELL TO JULIET (14) by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |