“Written in Early Spring” by William Wordsworth (1770–1850)

  I HEARD a thousand blended notes   While in a grove I sate reclined,  In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts  Bring sad thoughts to the mind.  To her fair works did Nature link  The human soul that through me ran;  And much it grieved my heart to think  What Man has made of Man.  Through primrose tufts, in that sweet bower,  The periwinkle trail’d its wreaths;  And ’tis my faith that every flower  Enjoys the air it breathes.  The birds around me hopp’d and play’d,  Their thoughts I cannot measure,—  But the least motion which they made  It seem’d a thrill of pleasure.  The budding twigs spread out their fan  To catch the breezy air;  And I must think, do all I can,  That there was pleasure there.  If this belief from heaven be sent,  If such be Nature’s holy plan,  Have I not reason to lament  What Man has made of Man?

Psalm 43, for Terri

A Lament

Judge me, O God, and plead my cause
Against a godless race;
From men deceitful and unjust
Deliver in Thy grace,
Deliver in Thy grace.

O Thou the God of all my strength,
Why hast thou cast me off?
Why go I mourning all the day,
While foes oppress and scoff,
While foes oppress and scoff?

O send Thou forth Thy light and truth,
Let them be guides to me,
And bring me to Thy Holy hill,
Thy dwelling place to see,
Thy dwelling place to see.

Then will I to God’s altar go,
To God, my boundless joy;
Yea, God, my God, Thy Name to praise
My harp I will employ,
My harp I will employ.

Why art thou then cast down, my soul,
What should discourage thee?
Any why with vexing tho’ts art thou
Disquieted in me,
Disquieted in me?

Hope thou in God; His praise shall yet
My thankful lips employ;
He is the spring of all my health,
My God, my boundless joy,
My God, my boundless joy.

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