#EnglishWriters
From North and South, and East a… They come! The sorely tried, the much oppress… Their Faith and Love to manifest, They come!
As gold is tried in the furnace, So He tries the hearts of men; And the dwale and the dross shall… When He tries the hearts of men. And the wood, and the hay, and the…
Let no man stand between my God a… I claim a Free man’s right Of intercourse direct with Him, Who gave me Freedom with the air… God made me free.—
Better in bitterest agony to lie, Before Thy throne, Than through much increase to be l… And stand alone. Better by one sweet soul, constant…
centered(A Warning) “Am I my brother’s keeper?” Yes, of a truth! Thine asking is thine answer. That self-condemning cry of Cain
Burden-bearers are we all, Great and small. Burden-sharers be ye all, Great and small! Where another shares the load,
('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....
Winter hung about the ways, Very loth to go. Little Spring could not get past… Try she never so. This side,—that side, everywhere,
Christ stands at the bar of the wo… As He stood in the days of old. And still, as then, we do betray Our Lord for greed of gold. When our every deed and word and t…
He only sees both sides of that da… That hangs before men’s eyes— He only. It is well! Hope ever stands unseen Behind the screen,
The Greatest Day that ever dawned… It was a Winter’s Morn. The Finest Temple ever built Was a Shed where a Babe was born. The Sweetest Robes by woman wroug…
Evening brings us home,— From our wanderings afar, From our multifarious labours, From the things that fret and jar; From the highways and the byways,
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…
We thank Thee, Lord, For mercies manifold in these dark… For Heart of Grace that would not… For all the stirrings in the dead… For bold self-steeling to the time…
He writes in characters too grand For our short sight to understand; We catch but broken strokes, and t… To fathom all the mystery Of withered hopes, of death, of li…