John Bowring Poems

Where is thy sting, O Death!
Grave! where thy victory?
The clod may sleep in dust beneath,
The spirit will be free!
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Lord! I believe: but if a doubt
Should shake my weak and wand'ring soul,
Let Reason drive the intruder out,
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Keep the unity of spirit,
Keep it in the bonds of peace,
So alone shall we inherit
Hope, and truth, and blessedness.
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We walk by faith, and not by sight;
And if we ever go astray,
Do Thou, O Lord! conduct us right,
And lead us in our onward way.
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Where'er the foot of man hath trod,
He feels the presence of a God:
Around, above, beneath,-where'er
His thought can reach, a God is there.
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If the hours of life are fleeting,
Let those hours be well employed!
Working, resting, parting, meeting,
Life was given to be enjoyed.
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'Like morning dew
He sparkled; was exhaled, and went to heaven;'
That promise for the innocent was given,
And is divinely true.
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I wander through a foreign land,
And still Thy love is mine;
And, guided by Thy gracious hand,
I feel that I am Thine.
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From the sacred banks, where Ganges
Pours its strong, majestic flood,
From Himalaya's mountain ranges
Come the strains of brotherhood;
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Now tell me what is chivalry?
To battle in the foremost fight
For anything-for wrong-for right,
For some fair lady's scornful smile,
...