#ScottishWriters
LORD, I do choose the higher tha… I would be handled by thy nursing… After thy will, not my infant alar… Hurt me thou wilt-but then more lo… If more can be and less, in love’s…
Within each living man there doth… In some unrifled chamber of the he… A hidden treasure: wayward as thou… I love thee, man, and bind thee to… By that sweet act I purify my pri…
When I am dead unto myself, and l… O Father, thee live on in me, Contented to do nought but pay my… And leave the house to thee, Then shall I be thy ransomed-from…
Summer is come again. The sun is… And the soft wind is breathing. A… Is sparkling in thine eyes, and in… My soul is shining. Come; our day… Shall be to revel in unlikely thin…
An angel saw me sitting by a brook… Pleased with the silence, and the… Of wind and water which did fall a… He gently stirred his plumes and f… An outworn doubt, which fell on me…
I walked all night: the darkness d… Around me fell a mist, a weary rai… Enduring long. At length the dawn… A temple’s front, high-lifted from… Closed were the lofty doors that l…
Comes there, O Earth, no breathin… No pause upon thy many-chequered l… Now resting on my bed with listles… I mourn thee resting not. Continu… Hear I the plashing borders of th…
O Mother Earth, I have a fear Which I would tell to thee– Softly and gently in thine ear When the moon and we are three. Thy grass and flowers are beautifu…
AND do not fear to hope. Can poe… More than the Father’s heart rich… Each time we smell the autumn’s dy… We know the primrose time will com… Not more we hope, nor less would s…
Father, I cry to thee for bread With hungred longing, eager prayer… Thou hear’st, and givest me instea… More hunger and a half-despair. 0 Lord, how long? My days decline…
My TO-MORROW is but a flitting Fancy of the brain; God’s TO-MORROW an angel sitti… Ready for joy or pain. My TO-MORROW has no soul,
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…
THE song birds that come to me ni… Fly oft away and vanish if I slee… Nor to my fowling-net will one ret… Is the thing ever ours we cannot k… But their souls go not out into th…
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,…
FROM thine, as then, the healing… Into our hearts-that is the Fathe… From heart to heart it sinks, it s… From these that know thee still in… Here is my heart-from thine, Lord…
