File:The poetical works of Crabbe, Heber, and Pollok, complete in one volume (1856) (14576415900).jpg

Identifier: poeticalworksofc00crab (find matches)
Title: The poetical works of Crabbe, Heber, and Pollok, complete in one volume
Year: 1856 (1850s)
Authors: Crabbe, George, 1754-1832 Heber, Reginald, bp. of Calcutta, 1783-1826. (from old catalog) Pollok, Robert, 1798-1827. (from old catalog)
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Publisher: Philadelphia, J. B. Lippincott & co.
Contributing Library: The Library of Congress
Digitizing Sponsor: Sloan Foundation

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the feet of him thatbringeth good tidings, that publisheth peace; that bringethgood tidings of good, that publisheth salvation!—Isaiah, liL 7. How bright and glorious arc the suns first gleamsAbove yon blue horizon!—Darkness fliesBefore his presence.—Mountains, vallies,trees. Glow with resplendent beauty.—And the streams Reflect the lustre of his orient beams. So Hcber shone—for unto him was given To spread the tidings of salvation round,Whilst heathen nations caught the joyfulsound. And learned to kneel before the shrine of Heaven; That cross surmounted shrine, where Faithand PrayerPoint to the crown of bliss, reserved there For those whom Jesus loves—but his bright sun Of glory set, ere yet its race was run. And he that bliss has gained—that crown has won! He had scarcely put off hia robes in which he officiated atthe altar, when he was suddenly called away to be clothedwith immortality.—Robinsons Sermon. 1 Written by Bishop Heber on the deatn of a friend Seopage 27.
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POETICAL WORKS LORD BISHOP OF Cx\LCUTTA m® JJalcs^ttne; A PRIZE POEM, RECITED IN THE THEATRE, OXFORD.IN THE YEAR MDCCCIII. Reft of thy sons, amid thy foes forlorn,Mourn, widowed queen, forgotten Sion, mourn!Is this thy place, sad City, this thy throne,Where the wild desert rears its craggy stone 1While suns unblest their angry lustre fling,And way-worn pilgrims seek the scanty spring?—Wliere now thy pomp, which kings witli envy viewed ?Where now thy might, which all those kings sulv duedlNo martial myriads muster in thy gate ;No suppliant nations in thy Temple wait;No prophet bards, thy glittering courts among,Wake the full lyre, and swell the tide of song:15ut lawless Force, and meagre Want is there.And the quick-darting eye of restless Fear;While cold Oblivion, mid thy ruins laid,Folds his dank wing(l) beneath the ivy shade. Ye guardian saints! ye warrior sons of heaven.(2)To whose high care Judaeas state was given!O wont of old your nightly watch to keep,A host of gods, on Sions

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