O Lord, if on the wind, at cool o… I heard one whispered word of migh… If through the darkness, as in bed… But once had come a hand upon my f… If but one sign that might not be…

My little boy, with smooth, fair c… And dreamy, large, brown eyes, Not often, little wisehead, speaks… But hearing, weighs and tries. ‘God is not only in the sky,’

To whom the heavy burden clings, It yet may serve him like a staff; One day the cross will break in wi… The sinner laugh a holy laugh. The dwarfed Zacchaeus climbed a t…

Love, the baby, Crept abroad to pluck a flower: One said, Yes, sir; one said, May… One said, Wait the hour. Love, the boy,

There cam a man to oor toon-en’, And a waesome carl was he, Snipie-nebbit, and crookit-mou’d, And gleyt o’ a blinterin ee. Muckle he spied, and muckle he spa…

The stars cleave the sky. Yet for us they rest, And their race-course high Is a shining nest! The hours hurry on.

Still flowed the music, flowed the… The youth in silence went; Through naked streets, in cold moo… His homeward way he bent, Where, on the city’s seaward line,

O Thou that walkest with nigh hop… Past the one harbour, built for th… Doth no stray odour from its table… No truant beam from fire or candle… At his wide door the host doth sta…

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…

Filled with his words of truth and… Her heart will break or cry: A woman’s cry bursts forth in migh… Of loving agony. ‘Blessed the womb, thee, Lord, th…

The dreary wind of night is out, Homeless and wandering slow; O’er pale seas moaning like a doub… It breathes, but will not blow. It sighs from out the helpless pas…

A thousand houses of poesy stand a… They fill the earth and they fill… air; But to-night they have shut their… windows fair,

I.-BY THE CRADLE. Close her eyes: she must not peep! Let her little puds go slack; Slide away far into sleep: Sis will watch till she comes back…

O do not leave me, mother, lest I… Till I forget, be near me in that… The mother’s presence leads her do… Leaves her contented there. O do not leave me, lover, brother,…

Were I a skilful painter, My pencil, not my pen, Should try to teach thee hope and… And who would blame me then?- Fear of the tide of darkness