A quiet heart, submissive, meek, Father, do thou bestow, Which more than granted, will not… To have, or give, or know. Each little hill then holds its gi…

No bird can sing in tune but that… Sits throned in equity above the h… And holds the righteous balance al… No heart can true response to love… Wherein from one to eight not ever…

I envy the tree-tops that shake so… In winds that fill them full of he… I envy every little cloud that sha… With unseen angels evening in the… I envy most the youngest stars tha…

If I did seem to you no more Than to myself I seem, Not thus you would fling wide the… And on the beggar beam! You would not don your radiant bes…

SO shall abundant entrance me be… Into the truth, my life’s inherita… Lo! as the sun shoots straight fro… God-floated, casting round a lordl… Into the corners of his endless ro…

In the hot sun, for water cool She walked in listless mood: When back she ran, her pitcher ful… Forgot behind her stood. Like one who followed straying she…

REMEMBER, Lord, thou hast not… Or if thou didst, it was so long a… I have forgotten-and never underst… I humbly think. At best it was a… A rough-hewn goodness, that did ne…

Had I the grace to win the grace Of some old man in lore complete, My face would worship at his face, And I sit lowly at his feet. Had I the grace to win the grace

When at Philippi, he who would ha… Great Rome from tyrants, for the… That lay 'twixt him and battle, so… From painful thoughts, he in a boo… That so the death of Portia might…

King Cole he reigned in Aureoland… But the sceptre was seldom in his… Far oftener was there his golden c… He ate too much, but he drank all… To be called a king and to be a ki…

Strait is the path? He means we m… Yes; but the strait path leads int…

She comes! again she comes, the br… Under a ragged cloud I found her… Clasping her own dark orb like hop… That ragged cloud hath waited her… And he hath found and he will hide…

’Tis the midnight hour; I heard The Abbey-bell give out the word. Seldom is the lamp-ray shed On some dwarfed foot-farer’s head In the deep and narrow street

The monk was praying in his cell, With bowed head praying sore; He had been praying on his knees For two long hours and more. As of themselves, all suddenly,

Is there a secret Joy, that may n… For every flower that ends its lit… For every child that groweth up to… For every captive bird a cage doth… For every aching eye that went to…