html website builder

Thou dear enchantress of the soul!
Whose magic skill life's ills can calm,
Whose nod can bid the whirlwind roll,
Whose whisper can its rage disarm;


Sweet Music! I invoke thy power;
Thou bid'st the aspiring spirit rise;
Thou charm'st existence' tearful hour,
And pointed hope to yonder skies.


In life's drear maze I've wandered long,
And sought for peace, but none could find,
Till listening to the thrilling song,
My bosom owned its influence kind.


O, if to finite state be given
Some emanation from above,
Some foretaste of a brighter heaven,
'Tis Music from the lips we love.