Say, ye apostate and profane, Wretches, who blush not to disdain Allegiance to your God,— Did e’er your idly wasted love Of virtue for her sake remove

(Genesis, XXII.14) The saints should never be dismay’… Nor sink in hopeless fear; For when they least expect His ai… The Saviour will appear.

It is not from his form, in which… Strength join’d with beauty, digni… That man, the master of this globe… His right of empire over all that… That form, indeed, the associate o…

God gives his mercies to be spent; Your hoard will do your soul no go… Gold is a blessing only lent, Repaid by giving others food. The world’s esteem is but a bribe,

Here lies one who never drew Blood himself, yet many slew; Gave the gun its aim, and figure Made in field, yet ne’er pulled tr… Armed men have gladly made

See where the Thames, the purest… That wavers to the noon-day beam, Divides the vale below; While like a vein of liquid ore His waves enrich the happy shore,

Doomed, as I am, in solitude to w… The present moments, and regret th… Deprived of every joy I valued mo… My friend torn from me, and my mis… Call not this gloom I wear, this…

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,

On the green margin of the brook, Despairing Phyllida reclined, Whilst every sigh, and every look, Declared the anguish of her mind. Am I less lovely then? (she cries…

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…

(Isaiah, XII.1) I will praise Thee every day Now Thine anger’s turn’d away; Comfortable thoughts arise From the bleeding sacrifice.

Mercator, vigiles oculos ut faller… Nomine sub ficto trans mare mittit… Lenè sonat liquidumque meis Euph… Sed solam exoptant te, mea vota,… Ad speculum ornabat nitidos Euphe…

’Tis my happiness below Not to live without the cross, But the Saviour’s power to know, Sanctifying every loss; Trials must and will befall;

My mother! if thou love me, name n… My noble birth! Sounding at every… My noble birth, thou kill’st me.… As to their only refuge, all from… Nature withholds all good besides;…

There is in souls a sympathy with… And as the mind is pitch’d the ear… With melting airs, or martial, bri… Some chord in unison with what we… Is touch’d within us, and the hear…