The Voice That Breathed O'er Eden, That

Soft As Memnon's Harp At Morning, To The Inward Ear Devout, Touched By Light, With Heavenly Warning Your Transporting Chords Ring Out. Every Leaf In Every Nook, Every Wave In Every Brook, Chanting With A Solemn Voice Minds Us Of Our Better Choice.

Peace Is The First Thing The Angels Sang.

Sweet Is The Infant's Waking Smile, And Sweet The Old Man's Rest-- But Middle Age By No Fond Wile, No Soothing Calm Is Blest.

Thou Art The Sun Of Other Days. They Shine By Giving Back The Rays.

The Voice That Breathed O'er Eden, That Earliest Wedding Day.