Just see that we get full value Of that for which we have paid. The price has been a heavy one, But the goods are there—and we’ve… We’ve paid in our toil and our wou…

Britain! Our Britain! uprisen in… Of your white wrath at treacheries… Roused from your sleep, become onc… Of those high things which make li… Now, God be thanked for even such…

This mortal dies,— But, in the moment when the light… The darkness opens, and the vision… Breaks on his eyes. The vail is rent,—

Mr. F.W. Christian, of the Polynesian Society of New Zealand, whose personal acquaintance with the South Sea Islands and their dialects is unique, is translating “Kapiolani” into Ra...

Is there, in you or me, Seed of that poison-tree Which, in its bitter fruiting, bor… Such vintage sore Of red calamity—

"Comfort ye, my people!" Saith your God,-- "And be ye comforted! And--be--ye--comforted!" Roughly my plough did plough you,

Curly head, and laughing eyes,— Mischief that all blame defies. Cricket,—footer,—Eton-jacket,— Everlasting din and racket. Tennis,—boating,—socks and ties,—

The spikenard was not wasted;— All down the tale of years, The fragrance of that broken alaba… Still clings to Mary’s memory, As clung its perfume sweet unto he…

(As earnestly as any I crave the victory of Right over this madness of Insensate Might against which we are contending. As certainly as any I would, if that were conceivably poss...

An Anticipation As sure as God’s in His Heaven, As sure as He stands for Right, As sure as the hun this wrong hath… So surely we win this fight!

God is; God sees; God loves; God knows. And Right is Right;

Evening brings us home,— From our wanderings afar, From our multifarious labours, From the things that fret and jar; From the highways and the byways,

A Potter, playing with his lump o… Fashioned an image of supremest wo… "Never was nobler image made on ea… Than this that I have fashioned o… And I, of mine own skill, did fas…

Just do your best, And leave the rest To Him who gave you Life,— And Zeal for Labour,—

I saw my fellows In Poverty Street,— Bitter and black with life’s defea… Ill-fed, ill-housed, of ills compl… And I said to myself,—