And should the twilight darken int… And sorrow grow to anguish, be tho… Thou art in God, and nothing can… Which a fresh life-pulse cannot se… That thou dost know the darkness,…

Mourner, that dost deserve thy mou… Call thyself punished, call the ea… Say, ‘God is angry, and I earned… I would not have him smile on wick… Say this, and straightway all thy…

‘What! you Dr. Doddridge’s dog, a… My little dog, who blessed you With such white toothy-pegs? And who was it that dressed you In such a lot of legs?

Satan, avaunt! Nay, take thine hour, Thou canst not daunt, Thou hast no power; Be welcome to thy nest,

The times are changed, and gone th… When the high heavenly land, Though unbeheld, quite near them l… And men could understand. The dead yet find it, who, when he…

One is a slow and melancholy maid; I know riot if she cometh from the… Or from the sleepy gulfs, but she… Often before me in the twilight sh… Holding a bunch of poppies and a b…

‘O lat me in, my bonny lass! It’s a lang road ower the hill, And the flauchterin snaw begud to… On the brig ayont the mill!’ ‘Here’s nae change-hoose, John Mu…

Oh that men would praise the Lord For his goodness unto men! Forth he sends his saving word, —Oh that men would praise the Lor… And from shades of death abhorred

Grief held me silent in my seat; I neither moved nor smiled: Joy held her silent at my feet, My shining lily-child. She raised her face and looked in…

Chained is the Spring. The Night… Blows over the hard earth; Time is not more confused and cold… Nor keeps more wintry mirth. Yet blow, and roll the world about…

Who lights the fire-that forth so… And freely frolicketh the fairy sm… Some pretty one who never felt the… Glad girl, or maiden more sedate t… Pedant it cannot, villain cannot b…

I cannot praise thee. By his inst… The master sits, and moves nor foo… For see the organ-pipes this, that… Leaning, o’erthrown, like wheat-st… I well could praise thee for a flo…

It is no winter night comes down Upon our hearts, dear friends of o… But a May evening, softly brown, Whose wind is rather cold. We are not, like yon sad-eyed Wes…

Speak, Prophet of the Lord! We m… To find thee with us in thine anci… Haggard and pale from some bleak w… Empty of all save God and thy lou… Nor with like rugged message quick…

Dead, why defend thee, who in life For thy worst foe hadst died; Who, thy own name a word of strife… Didst silent stand aside? Grand in forgiveness, what to thee