Page:The Poetical Works of William Motherwell, 1849.djvu/186

 And by the rootes pluck out the tongue That dare be lowde In Righteous cause, whate'er may be— This Worldes for Thee.

This canst thou not! Then fluttering thing Unstained in thy puritye, Sweep towards heaven with tireless wing— Meet Home for Thee. Feare not, the crashing of Lyfe's Tree— God's Love guides Thee.

And thus it is:—these solemn bells, Swinging in the turret free, And tolling forth theire sad farewells, O'er Land and Sea, Tell how Hearts breake, full fast, and then Growe whole againe.