THIS is the day the Lord of life Ascended to the skies; My thoughts, pursue the lofty theme, And to the heavens arise. Let no vain cares divert my mind From this celestial road; Nor all the honours of the earth Detain my soul from God. Think of the splendors of that place, The joys that are on high; Nor meanly rest contented here, With worlds beneath the sky. Heav'n is the birth-place of the saints, To Heav'n their souls ascend; The' Almighty owns his favourite race As father and as friend. Oh! may these lovely titles prove My comfort and defence, When the sick couch shall be my lot, And death shall call me hence. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AT CASTERBRIDGE FAIR: 3. AFTER THE CLUB-DANCE by THOMAS HARDY SONNET: 14. ON THE RELIGIOUS MEMORY OF CATHERINE THOMASON by JOHN MILTON FOR 'THE WINE OF CIRCE' (BY EDWARD BURNE JONES) by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI TO THE SMALL CELANDINE (1) by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH TO JOANNA, ON SENDING ME THE LEAF OF A FLOWER ... WORDSWORTH'S GARDEN by BERNARD BARTON THE JUDGMENT by KATHARINE LEE BATES |