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…

Sighing above, Rustling below, Thorough the woods The winds go. Beneath, dead crowds;

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,…

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

Annie she’s dowie, and Willie he’… What can be the matter wi’ siccan… For Annie she’s fair as the first… And Willie he’s honest and stalwa… Oh, the tane has a daddy is poor a…

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,…

I am weary, and very lonely, And can but think-think. If there were some water only That a spirit might drink-drink, And arise,

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…

The stars are spinning their threa… And the clouds are the dust that f… And the suns are weaving them up For the day when the sleepers aris… The ocean in music rolls,

‘Good morrow, my lord!’ in the sky… Sang the lark as the sun ascended… ‘Shine on me, my lord: I only am… Of all your servants, to welcome y… I have shot straight up, a whole h…

They are blind, and they are dead: We will wake them as we go; There are words have not been said… There are sounds they do not know: We will pipe and we will sing–

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

Loosener of springs, he died by th… Softness, not hardness, sent him h… He loved thee-and thou mad’st him… Of all the place thou comest from!

The brother knew well the castle o… Every closet, each outlook fair, Every turret and bartizan bold, Every chamber, garnished or bare. The brother was out in the heavenl…

I follow, tottering, in the funera… That bears my body to the welcomin… As those I mourn not, that entomb… But smile as those that lay aside… To me it is a thing of poor disdai…