#English
Too many, Lord, abuse Thy grace In this licentious day, And while they boast they see Thy… They turn their own away. Thy book displays a gracious light
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…
William was once a bashful youth, His modesty was such, That one might say, to say the tru… He rather had too much. Some said that it was want of sens…
What thousands never knew the road… What thousands hate it when ’tis k… None but the chosen tribes of God Will seek or choose it for their o… A thousand ways in ruin end,
Almighty King! whose wondrous han… Supports the weight of sea and lan… Whose grace is such a boundless st… No heart shall break that sighs fo… Thy providence supplies my food,
The beams of April, ere it goes, A worm, scarce visible, disclose; All winter long content to dwell The tenant of his native shell. The same prolific season gives
‘Ere God had built the mountains, Or raised the fruitful hills; Before he fill’d the fountains That feed the running rills; In me from everlasting,
The Bard, if e’er he feel at all, Must sure be quickened by a call Both on his heart and head, To pay with tuneful thanks the car… And kindness of a lady fair
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…
Grant me the Muse, ye gods! whose… Seeks not the mountain-top’s perni… Who can the tall Parnassian cliff… To visit oft the still Lethean la… Now her slow pinions brush the sil…
In this mimic form of a matron in… How plainly the pencil of Denner… The matron herself, in whose old a… Not a trace of decline, what a won… No dimness of eye, and no cheek ha…
Between Nose and Eyes a strange c… The spectacles set them unhappily… The point in dispute was, as all t… To which the said spectacles ought… So the Tongue was the Lawyer and…
Hark! ’tis the twanging horn! O’e… That with its wearisome but needfu… Bestrides the wintry flood, in whi… Sees her unwrinkled face reflected… He comes, the herald of a noisy wo…
Oft we embrace our ills by discont… And give them bulk beyond what nat… A parent, brother, friend deceased… ‘He’s dead indeed, but he was born… Such temperate grief is suited to…
