Address To Thought
OH thou
the musing, wakeful pow'r,
That lov'st the silent, midnight hour,
Thy lonely vigils then to keep,
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OH thou
the musing, wakeful pow'r,
That lov'st the silent, midnight hour,
Thy lonely vigils then to keep,
O, come you pious youth:
The wisdom of thy God
In bringing thee from distant shore,
To learn His holy word
Exquisite stillness
What
Of earth and air
How bright atop the
O thou
whatever title suit thee,— Auld Hornie,
Satan,
Nick, or Clootie
AT way does the wind come
What way does he go
He rides over the water, and over the snow,
Through wood, and through vale; and, o'er rocky