Henry Francis Lyte
Henry Francis Lyte Poems
|1.||Long Did I Toil||4/26/2012|
|2.||My Spirit On Thy Care||4/26/2012|
|3.||My God, My King, Thy Praise I Sing||4/26/2012|
|4.||Praise For Thee, Lord, In Zion Waits||1/3/2003|
|5.||O That The Lord's Salvation||1/3/2003|
|6.||Pleasant Are Thy Courts Above||1/3/2003|
|7.||Jesus, I My Cross Have Taken||1/3/2003|
|8.||There Is A Safe And Secret Place||1/3/2003|
|9.||Praise The Lord, God's Glories Show||1/3/2003|
|10.||When At Thy Footstool, Lord, I Bend||1/3/2003|
|11.||Praise, My Soul, The King Of Heaven||1/3/2003|
|13.||Far From My Heavenly Home||1/3/2003|
|14.||Abide With Me||1/3/2003|
|15.||God Of Mercy, God Of Grace||1/3/2003|
|16.||A Lost Love||1/3/2003|
Comments about Henry Francis Lyte
A Lost Love
I meet thy pensive, moonlight face;
Thy thrilling voice I hear;
And former hours and scenes retrace,
Too fleeting, and too dear!
Then sighs and tears flow fast and free,
Though none is nigh to share;
And life has nought beside for me
So sweet as this despair.
There are crush'd hearts that will not break;
And mine, methinks, is one;
Or thus I should not weep and wake,
And thou to slumber gone.
I little thought it thus could be
In days more sad and fair
That earth could have a place for me,
And thou no longer there.
Yet death ...
Why do I sigh to find
Life's evening shadows gathering round my way?
The keen eye dimming, and the buoyant mind
Unhinging day by day?
Is it the natural dread
Of that stern lot, which all who live must see?
The worm, the clay, the dark and narrow bed, --
Have these such awe for me?