Fugitive Poetry. 1600–1878/Guardian Angels
Guardian Angels.
Gently, gently fall sweet sleep
O'er thine eyelids, soft and deep,
Gently as the breath of flowers
In the bright noon's honeyed hours.
Gently as the dews of heaven
On the wild-rose at the even.
O'er thine eyelids, soft and deep,
Gently as the breath of flowers
In the bright noon's honeyed hours.
Gently as the dews of heaven
On the wild-rose at the even.
Thou art pure, immortal one;
Oh! be pure till life is done.
We would take thee in thy bloom
From the dim walls of the tomb;
We would bear thee, blest and fair,
Where thy home and kindred are.
Oh! be pure till life is done.
We would take thee in thy bloom
From the dim walls of the tomb;
We would bear thee, blest and fair,
Where thy home and kindred are.
Pray, then—strive to enter in
Through the cold world's woe and sin;
In each glad and gloomy hour,
In thy weakness, in thy power.
Pray—and we will pray for thee,
Strive—and we will strengthen thee.
Through the cold world's woe and sin;
In each glad and gloomy hour,
In thy weakness, in thy power.
Pray—and we will pray for thee,
Strive—and we will strengthen thee.
Ay, on the land and on the seas,
In the tempest and the breeze,
In the solemn hush of night,
In the loud moon's burst of light,
Strive! oh strive!—around, above thee,
We will lead and we will love thee.
In the tempest and the breeze,
In the solemn hush of night,
In the loud moon's burst of light,
Strive! oh strive!—around, above thee,
We will lead and we will love thee.