#EnglishWriters
(THE PLEA OF THE MUNI… “Rattle and clatter and clank and… And it’s long and long the day is. From earliest morn to late at nigh… And all night long, the selfsame s…
Earthly props are useless, On Thy grace I fall; Earthly strength is weakness, Father, on Thee I call,— For comfort, strength, and guidanc…
Hark! The drums! Muffled drums! The long low ruffle of the drums!— And every head is bowed, In the vast expectant crowd, As the Great Queen comes,—
To lift the sombre fringes of the… To open lands long darkened to the… To heal grim wounds, to give the b… Right mightily wrought he. Forth to the fight he fared,
Some lives are set in narrow ways, By Love’s wise tenderness. They seem to suffer all their days Life’s direst storm and stress. But God shall raise them up at le…
I saw my fellows In Poverty Street,— Bitter and black with life’s defea… Ill-fed, ill-housed, of ills compl… And I said to myself,—
Through every minute of this day, Be with me, Lord! Through every day of all this week… Be with me, Lord! Through every week of all this yea…
('Be christs!'- was one of W. T. Stead’s favourite sayings. Not ‘Be like Christ!’- but– ‘Be christs!’ And he used the word no doubt in its original meaning,- anointed, ordained, chosen....
From deepest depth, O Lord, I cr… "My Love runs quick to your neces… I am bereft; my soul is sick with… "Dear one, I know. My heart br… What most I loved is gone. I w…
Lord God of Hosts, whose mighty h… Dominion holds on sea and land, In Peace and War Thy Will we see Shaping the larger liberty. Nations may rise and nations fall,
To stand— A dust-speck, facing the infinitud… Of Thine unfathomable dome, a nig… To stand full-face to Thy High M… Thy myriad worlds in solemn watchf…
Though the times be dark and drear… Though the way be long, Keep your spirits bright and cheer… —'Bide a wee, and dinna weary!’ Is a heartsome song.
When the outer eye grows dim, Turns the inner eye to Him, Who makes darkness light. Fairer visions you may see, Live in nobler company,
I saw one hanging on a tree, And O his face was sad to see,— Misery, misery me! There were berries red upon his he… And in his hands, and on his feet,
The spikenard was not wasted;— All down the tale of years, The fragrance of that broken alaba… Still clings to Mary’s memory, As clung its perfume sweet unto he…