Give me that old-time religion,
Give me that old-time religion,
Give me that old-time religion,
It's good enough for me.

It was good for our fathers,
It was good for our fathers,
It was good for our fathers,
It's good enough for me.

It was good for our mothers,
It was good for our mothers,
It was good for our mothers,
It's good enough for me.

It was good for Paul and Silas,
It was good for Paul and Silas,
It was good for Paul and Silas,
It's good enough for me.

It makes you love ev'rybody,

I wonder whether the Girls are mad
And I wonder whether they mean to kill
And I wonder if William Bond will die
For assuredly he is very ill

He went to Church in a May morning
Attended by Fairies one two & three
But the Angels of Providence drove them away
And he returnd home in Misery

He went not out to the Field nor Fold
He went not out to the Village nor Town
But he came home in a black black cloud
And took to his Bed & there lay down

And an Angel of Providence at his Feet
And an Angel of Providence at his Head

Through the deep shadows of the darkening years,
She strove with griefs, which oft were agonies, —
The traitorous Hopes transformed to haunting Fears,
The transient Raptures ending but in sighs:

Till at the last, the life-clouds cleared away,
The future bathed in promise heavenly bright,
She heard a tender voice which seemed to say,
" At evening time, behold! I give thee light! "

For love, true love, her woman's nature yearned, —
And now true Love hath crowned her longing wild,
And all without, and all within her burned

Did Helen steal my love from me?
She never had the wit.
Or was it Jane? But she's too plain,
And could not compass it.
A bad verse in the middle, then —

It might be Helen, Jane, or Kate,
It might be none of the three:
But I'm alone, for my love's gone
That should have been true to me.

Her attachment may differ from yours in degree,
Provided they are both of one kind;
But Friendship, how tender so ever it be,
Gives no accord to Love, however refined.

Love, that meets not with Love, its true nature revealing,
Grows ashamed of itself, and demurs:
If you cannot lift hers up to your state of feeling,
You must lower down your state to hers.

O'er wayward childhood would'st thou hold firm rule,
And sun thee in the light of happy faces;
Love, Hope, and Patience, these must be thy graces,
And in thine own heart let them first keep school.
For as old Atlas on his broad neck places
Heaven's starry globe, and there sustains it; — so
Do these upbear the little world below
Of Education, — Patience, Love, and Hope.
Methinks, I see them group'd in seemly show,
The straiten'd arms upraised, the palms aslope,
And robes that touching as adown they flow,

On hearing a song in praise of a lady's beauty

'Tis not the lily-brow I prize,
Nor roseate cheeks, nor sunny eyes,
Enough of lilies and of roses!
A thousand-fold more dear to me
The gentle look that Love discloses, —
The look that Love alone can see!
[1820s]

When I would know thee Goodyere, my thought looks
Upon thy well-made choice of friends, and books;
Then do I love thee, and behold thy ends
In making thy friends books, and thy books friends:
Now, I must give thy life, and deed, the voice
Attending such a study, such a choice.
Where, though't be love, that to thy praise doth move,
It was a knowledge, that begat that love.

Her advent was not hailed with shouts,
Nor banners, garlands, cymbals, drums;
The trees breathed gently sighs of love,
And whispered softly, " Hush! she comes."

I. OF HIS LYRE; THAT IT WILL PLAY ONLY OF LOVE

I fain would sing of Cadmus king,
And fain of Atrean banqueting;
But still the harp through every string
Doth echo only love —
I brake the chord that erewhile sent
That note, and changed the instrument;
And how Alcides' labours went
I sang with fire, — but still the lyre
Gave back the word of Love.
So farewell all heroical
Rare spirits!, for the lyre withal
Can sound but only love.