1. |
Lost and Found
01:44
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2. |
The Lily
01:35
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The modest Rose puts forth a thorn,
The humble sheep a threat’ning horn:
While the Lily white shall in love delight,
Nor a thorn nor a threat stain her beauty bright.
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3. |
Echoing Green
03:34
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The sun does arise and makes happy skies;
The merry bells ring to welcome the Spring;
The skylark and thrush, the birds of the bush,
Sing louder around to the bells’ cheerful sound;
While our sports shall be seen on the echoing green.
Old John, with white hair, laughs away care,
Sitting under the oak among the old folk.
They laugh at our play and soon they all say,
‘Such, such were the joys when we all—girls and boys—
In our youth-time were seen on the echoing green.’
Till the little ones, weary, no more can be merry:
The sun does descend, and our sports have an end.
Round the laps of their mothers, many sisters and brothers,
Like birds in their nest, are ready for rest,
And sport no more is seen on the darkening green.
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4. |
Chimney Sweep
03:43
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When my mother died I was very young,
And my father sold me while yet my tongue
Could scarcely cry ‘Weep! weep! weep! weep!’
So your chimneys I sweep, and in soot I sleep.
There’s little Tom Dacre, who cried when his head,
That curled like a lamb’s back, was shaved; so I said,
‘Hush, Tom! never mind it, for, when your head’s bare,
You know that the soot cannot spoil your white hair.’
And so he was quiet, and that very night,
As Tom was a-sleeping, he had such a sight!—
That thousands of sweepers, Joe, Ned, and Jack,
Were all locked up in coffins of black.
And then came an angel, who had a bright key,
He opened the coffins, and set them all free;
Then down a green plain, leaping, laughing, they run
And wash in a river, and shine in the sun.
And so Tom awoke, and we rose in the dark,
We picked up our bags and our brushes, and we went back - back to work.
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5. |
Rose Tree
03:23
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A flower was offered to me, such a flower as May never bore;
But I said, ‘I’ve a pretty rose tree,’ and I passed the sweet flower o’er.
‘Love seeks not self to please, nor for itself hath any care,
But for another gives its ease, and builds a heaven in hell’s despair.’
I went to my pretty rose tree, to tend her by day and by night;
But my rose turned away with jealousy, and her thorns were my only delight.
‘Love seeks not self to please, nor for itself hath any care,
But for another gives its ease, and builds a heaven in hell’s despair.’
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6. |
Tiger and Lamb
03:27
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7. |
To Tirzah
03:45
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All that’s born of mortal birth must be consumed with the earth,
All that’s sprung from shame and pride, blew in the morn, but in evening it died;
But mercy changed death into sleep;
So what have you to do with me? What have you to do with me?
The death of Jesus set me free: So what have you to do with me?
Mother of my mortal part, with cruelty you molded my heart,
With false self-deceiving tears you bound my eyes, you bound my ears,
But mercy changed death into sleep;
So what have you to do with me? What have you to do with me?
The death of Jesus set me free: So what have you to do with me?
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8. |
London on a Thursday
04:58
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I wander through each chartered street, where the mighty Thames does flow,
And see in every face I meet: marks of weakness, marks of woe.
In every cry of every man, in every infant’s cry of fear,
In every voice, in every ban, the mind-forged shackles I hear:
How the chimney-sweeper’s cry, every blackening church appalls,
And the hapless soldier’s sigh runs in blood down palace-walls.
But most, through midnight streets I hear how the youthful harlot’s curse
Blasts the newborn infant’s tear, and blights with plagues the marriage hearse.
Is this a holy thing to see in a rich and fruitful land,—
Babes reduced to misery, fed with cold and usurious hand?
Is that trembling cry a song? Can it be a song of joy?
And so many children poor? It is a land of poverty!
And their sun, it never shines, and their fields are bleak and bare,
And their ways are filled with thorns, it is eternal winter there.
For where’er the sun does shine and where’er the rain does fall,
Babe can never hunger there, nor poverty the mind appall.
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9. |
Infant Joy
03:39
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‘I have no name; I am but two days old.’
What shall I call you?
‘I happy am, Joy is my name.’
Sweet joy befall you!
Pretty joy! Sweet joy, two days old.
Sweet joy I’ll call you:
And while you smile, I sing the while;
Sweet joy befall you!
And while you smile, I sing the while;
Sweet joy befall you! Sweet joy!
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10. |
The Shepherd
04:01
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How sweet is the shepherd’s lot! From the morn to the evening he strays;
He shall follow his sheep all of the day, and his tongue shall be filled with praise.
For he hears the lambs’ innocent call, and he hears the ewes’ tender reply;
He is watchful while they are in peace, for they know when their shepherd is nigh.
Think not you can sigh a sigh, and your Maker is not by:
Think not you can weep a tear, and your Maker is not near.
He gave His joy to all: He became an infant small,
He became a man of sorrow.
O, He gives us His joy, that our grief He may destroy:
Till our grief is fled and gone.
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11. |
A Dream
02:17
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12. |
Night
02:33
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The sun descends in the West, the evening star does shine;
The birds are silent in their nest, and I must seek for mine.
The moon, like a flower in heav’n’s high bower,
With silent delight sits and smiles on the night.
And now beside you, bleating lamb, I can lie down and sleep,
Or think on Him who bore your name, graze after you and weep.
For, washed in life’s river, your bright mane forever
Shall shine like the gold, as you guard over the fold.
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Allan Douglas recommends:
FANTASTIC record. Great writing, great production.
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