When Hagar found the bottle spent And wept o’er Ishmael, A message from the Lord was sent To guide her to a well. Should not Elijah’s cake and crus…

In these sad hours, a prey to ceas… While feverish pulses leap in ever… When each faint breath the last sh… Of life just parting from my feebl… How wild soe’er my wandering thoug…

’Tis morning; and the sun, with ru… Ascending, fires th’ horizon: whil… That crowd away before the driving… More ardent as the disk emerges mo… Resemble most some city in a blaze…

Holy Lord God! I love Thy truth, Nor dare Thy least commandment sl… Yet pierced by sin the serpent’s t… I mourn the anguish of the bite. But though the poison lurks within…

There is a book, which we may call (Its excellence is such) Alone a library, though small; The ladies thumb it much. Words none, things numerous it con…

Thus Italy was moved—nor did the… Æneas in his mind less tumult feel… On every side his anxious thought… Restless, unfix’d, not knowing whi… And as a cistern that in brim of b…

The nymph must lose her female fri… If more admired than she, - But where will fierce contention e… If flowers can disagree? Within the garden’s peaceful scene

... Thou know’st my praise of nature m… And that my raptures are not conju… To serve occasions of poetic pomp, But genuine, and art partner of th…

What is there in the vale of life Half so delighted as a wife, When friendship, love, and peace c… To stamp the marriage bond divine? The stream of pure and genuine lov…

I ransack’d for a theme of song, Much ancient chronicle, and long; I read of bright embattled fields, Of trophied helmets, spears, and s… Of chiefs, whose single arm could…

This is the feast of heavenly wine… And God invites to sup; The juices of the living Vine Were press’d to fill the cup. Oh! bless the Saviour, ye that ea…

Maria, could Horace have guessed What honour awaited his ode To his little volume addressed, The honour which you have bestowed… Who have traced it in characters h…

All are indebted much to thee, But I far more than all, From many a deadly snare set free, And raised from many a fall. Overwhelm me, from above,

What various hindrances we meet In coming to a mercy seat! Yet who that knows the worth of pr… But wishes to be often there? Prayer makes the darken’d cloud wi…

The works of ancient bards divine, Aulus, thou scorn’st to read; And should posterity read thine, It would be strange indeed! When little more than boy in age,