Theodore Tilton



A Vacation Hymn

by Theodore Tilton

On closing school for the summer.


We sing a song, and then we part!
How swiftly time is winging!
But sweet are farewells of the heart
When they are said in singing.
The roses climb the garden wall;
The buds have long been blowing;
The summer's breezy voices call,
And we must now be going!


The blue-bird trembles in her nest,
Which every wind is swaying;
The robin sings and shows his breast,
While we are here delaying;
The bees have set their pipes in tune
On every head of clover;
And we must haste to hear them soon,
Or summer will be over!


O God of every lowly heart
And every lofty feeling,
Be Thou adored for what Thou art
In Nature's own revealing!
Wherever summer's grass is green,
Or winter's snow is hoary,
The hiding of Thy face is seen --
We know Thee by Thy glory!


If we who sing a parting song
Have mortal meeting never,
There is a journey, short or long,
Where summer lasts forever.
All hail, O fairest land of lands,
Whose blossoms never wither!
Although we here unclasp our hands,
Our feet shall travel thither.


The Sexton's Tale, And Other Poems.
Copyright 1867
Sheldon And Company, New York.
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