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CONSECRATION.
CONSECRATION.
Love is the life of a woman; her chiefest of blessings; her all!
Lacking its sweets, her existence of full perfection is shorn;
Love, the wonderful alchemist, changes to honey life's gall,—
Transforms the sad gloom of midnight into the gold blush of morn!
Lacking its sweets, her existence of full perfection is shorn;
Love, the wonderful alchemist, changes to honey life's gall,—
Transforms the sad gloom of midnight into the gold blush of morn!
What shall requite her for Love's loss? oh, what shall suffice her instead?
What shall comfort and quiet her when loveless and desolate?
What shall recall her to life again when her heart's fibres are dead?
Oh, it is fearful to live with nothing for which you can wait!
What shall comfort and quiet her when loveless and desolate?
What shall recall her to life again when her heart's fibres are dead?
Oh, it is fearful to live with nothing for which you can wait!
Country? Yes, country is dear to me! from its bland airs I draw breath.
Prosper it, God of our fathers! now in its bitterest need!
Sustain it! save it from tottering down to dishonorable death!
Uphold it! restore it, unbroken! oh, give us heed!
Prosper it, God of our fathers! now in its bitterest need!
Sustain it! save it from tottering down to dishonorable death!
Uphold it! restore it, unbroken! oh, give us heed!
