Which looks may not declare.

It is not strange to church or state,
For oft beneath the gown
Of prelate grave, and judge sedate,
It sits with hideous frown.

Disturbing truth and righteous law,
It scorns the bitter tear,
And laughs at all we hold in awe,
And all that causes fear.

O God of love, and not of hate,
Look down where'er we be,
And snatch us, ere 'tis yet too late,
From hate's black, raging sea.

From rolling tides of vengeful thought,
Oh, lift us far above,
And may we thank Thee as we ought,
From pleasant seas of love.

* * * * *

DISPLAY.

Deep planted in the heart of man,
Wherever you may go,
Display hath fertile seeds, which sprout,
And daily larger grow.