#EnglishWriters
Time beats out all things with his… Things great, things small. With steady strokes that never fai… With slow, sure strokes of his iro… Time beats out all.
(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...
Oft, as he jogs along the Winding… Occasion comes for Every Man to s… “This Road?—or That?” and as he c… So shall his journey end in Night…
Is life worth living? It depends on your believing;— If it ends with this short span, Then is man no better than The beasts that perish.
This mortal dies,— But, in the moment when the light… The darkness opens, and the vision… Breaks on his eyes. The vail is rent,—
Some have much, and some have more… Some are rich, and some are poor, Some have little, some have less, Some have not a cent to bless Their empty pockets, yet possess
Who are the Makers of Wars? The Kings of the earth. And who are these Kings of the ea… Only men—not always even men of wo… But claiming rule by right of birt…
The sun shone white and fair, This Eastertide, Yet all its sweetness seemed but t… Our souls’ despair; For stricken hearts, and loss and…
Shadows are but for the moment— Quickly past; And then the sun the brighter shin… That it was overcast. For Light is Life!
Peter, outworn, And menaced by the sword, Shook off the dust of Rome; And, as he fled, Met one, with eager face,
Profit?—Loss? Who shall declare this good—that i… When good and ill so intertwine But to fulfil the vast design Of an Omniscient Will?—
I have been tried, Tried in the fire, And I say this, As the result of dire distress, And tribulation sore—
We thank Thee, Lord, For mercies manifold in these dark… For Heart of Grace that would not… For all the stirrings in the dead… For bold self-steeling to the time…
“A red rose for my helmet, And a word before we part! The rose shall be my oriflamme The word shall fill my heart.” Heart, Heart, Heart of my heart—
“My lord, there came unto the gate One, in such pitiful estate, So all forlorn and desolate, Ill-fed, ill-clad, of ills compact… A leper too,—his poor flesh wracke…