From out a windy cleft there comes… Of eyes unearthly, which go to and… Upon the people’s tumult, for belo… The nations smite each other: no a… Troubles their liquid rolling, or…

January 26, 1885 Gordon, the self-refusing, Gordon, the lover of God, Gordon, the good part choosing, Welcome along the road!

In the air why such a ringing? On the earth why such a droning? In the air the lark is singing; On the earth the wind is moaning. ‘I am blest, in sunlight swinging!…

Comes there, O Earth, no breathin… No pause upon thy many-chequered l… Now resting on my bed with listles… I mourn thee resting not. Continu… Hear I the plashing borders of th…

I. I honour Nature, holding it un… To look with jealousy on her desig… With every passing year more fast… About my heart; with her mysteriou… Claim I a fellowship not less aug…

In the hot sun, for water cool She walked in listless mood: When back she ran, her pitcher ful… Forgot behind her stood. Like one who followed straying she…

They all were looking for a king To slay their foes, and lift them… Thou cam’st a little baby thing That made a woman cry. O son of man, to right my lot

Oh! is it Death that comes To have a foretaste of the whole? To-night the planets and the stars Will glimmer through my window-bar… But will not shine upon my soul!

Suggested by a drawing of Thomas… . This must be the very night! The moon knows it!-and the trees! They stand straight upright,

Who follows Jesus shall not walk In darksome road with danger rife; But in his heart the Truth will t… And on his way will shine the Lif… So, on the story we must pore

Out of thy door I run to do the t… That calls upon me. Straight the… Whoops from mine ears the sounds o… About their work, ‘My God, my fat… I turn in haste to see thy blessed…

O Lord, I cannot but believe The birds do sing thy praises then… And they are lying seed-sown land… Their little bosoms breeding songs… If thou hadst finished me, O Lord…

She sitteth at the Master’s feet In motionless employ; Her ears, her heart, her soul comp… Drinks in the tide of joy. Ah! who but she the glory knows

I was very cold In the summer weather; The sun shone all his gold, But I was very cold– Alas, we were grown old,

Uplifted is the stone And all mankind arisen! We are thy very own, We are no more in prison! What bitterest grief can stay