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Article THE GREAT ARCHITECT. Page 1 of 1 Article THE FUNERAL AT SEA. Page 1 of 1 Article FAIR FRANCE. Page 1 of 1
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
The Great Architect.
THE GREAT ARCHITECT .
HE comes in the lightning , HE comes in the storm , But mercy is ever His most frequent form ; HE talks in the thunder , and all mankind fears , But His mercy still shines as the atmosphere clears . And grace is still shed on the sinner ' s dimm'd soul , As His spirit o ' er chaos enlivening stole ,
Ancl every dark feature was called into li ght ; HE spoke , and earth heard—it no longer was night . Even now the same spirit that spoke " Let li ght be !" Can illumine the sinner as dark stained as me ; And still can breathe o ' er me His glory , His love , Ancl fit me , even here , for a mansion above . M .
The Funeral At Sea.
THE FUNERAL AT SEA .
BREATHE we then the parting prayer—The corse in its human ark is bound ! The death-shot to sink it are there—Our comrades stand mournfully round . AVe start , as the roar of the gun Consigns the cold form to the wave ;
And when that our lone task is done , Retire to lament for the brave . Death on shore in pomp may be clad , The tear-drop as heart-felt may be ; But more lonely , more silent and sad , The grave of the sailor at sea .
Fair France.
FAIR FRANCE .
P R 0 M THE fRBNC H . SHOULD Gallia be the battle cry , I'd seize my father ' s shield ; His sword I'd girt upon my thi gh . And dare the tented field . Should numbers press , I'd scorn to fly , shun the
Or hostile lance ; History should trace upon my urn , He died for thee—fair France I
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
The Great Architect.
THE GREAT ARCHITECT .
HE comes in the lightning , HE comes in the storm , But mercy is ever His most frequent form ; HE talks in the thunder , and all mankind fears , But His mercy still shines as the atmosphere clears . And grace is still shed on the sinner ' s dimm'd soul , As His spirit o ' er chaos enlivening stole ,
Ancl every dark feature was called into li ght ; HE spoke , and earth heard—it no longer was night . Even now the same spirit that spoke " Let li ght be !" Can illumine the sinner as dark stained as me ; And still can breathe o ' er me His glory , His love , Ancl fit me , even here , for a mansion above . M .
The Funeral At Sea.
THE FUNERAL AT SEA .
BREATHE we then the parting prayer—The corse in its human ark is bound ! The death-shot to sink it are there—Our comrades stand mournfully round . AVe start , as the roar of the gun Consigns the cold form to the wave ;
And when that our lone task is done , Retire to lament for the brave . Death on shore in pomp may be clad , The tear-drop as heart-felt may be ; But more lonely , more silent and sad , The grave of the sailor at sea .
Fair France.
FAIR FRANCE .
P R 0 M THE fRBNC H . SHOULD Gallia be the battle cry , I'd seize my father ' s shield ; His sword I'd girt upon my thi gh . And dare the tented field . Should numbers press , I'd scorn to fly , shun the
Or hostile lance ; History should trace upon my urn , He died for thee—fair France I