James Montgomery Poems

O Spirit of the living God,
In all Thy plenitude of grace,
Where’er the foot of man hath trod,
Descend on our apostate race.
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Awhile she lay all passive to the touch
Of those small fingers, and the soft, soft lips
Soliciting the sweet nutrition thence,
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'For ever with the Lord!'
Amen, so let it be;
Life from the dead is in that word,
'Tis immortality.
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There is a flower, a little flower
With silver crest and golden eye,
That welcomes every changing hour,
And weathers every sky.
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Night is the time for rest;
How sweet, when labors close,
To gather round an aching breast
The curtain of repose,
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When Jesus left His Father’s throne,
He chose a humble birth;
Like us, unhonored and unknown,
He came to dwell on earth.
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Art thou a woman? -- so am I; and all
That woman can be, I have been, or am;
A daughter, sister, consort, mother, widow.
Whiche'er of these thou art, O be the friend
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Almighty Spirit, now behold
A world by sin destroyed:
Creating Spirit, as of old,
Move on the formless void,
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How precious are thy thoughts of peace,
O God! to me; how great their sum!
New every morn, they never cease;
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There is a land, of every land the pride,
Beloved by heaven, o'er all the world beside;
Where brighter suns dispense serener light,
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