#ScottishWriters
An angel saw me sitting by a brook… Pleased with the silence, and the… Of wind and water which did fall a… He gently stirred his plumes and f… An outworn doubt, which fell on me…
I follow, tottering, in the funera… That bears my body to the welcomin… As those I mourn not, that entomb… But smile as those that lay aside… To me it is a thing of poor disdai…
When thou turn’st away from ill, Christ is this side of thy hill. When thou turnest toward good, Christ is walking in thy wood. When thy heart says, ‘Father, par…
Men sought, ambition’s thirst to s… The lost elixir old Whose magic touch should instant m… The meaner metals gold. A nobler alchymy is thine
Here stands a giant stone from who… Comes down the sounding water: let… Till every sense of man and human… Is wrecked and quenched for ever,… Into the whirl of time, and withou…
I shall be satisfied With the seeing of thy face. When I awake, wide-eyed, I shall be satisfied With what this life did hide,
A thousand houses of poesy stand a… They fill the earth and they fill… air; But to-night they have shut their… windows fair,
I was very cold In the summer weather; The sun shone all his gold, But I was very cold– Alas, we were grown old,
Lord Jesus, Oh, ease us Of Self that oppresses, Annoys and distresses Body and brain
What gars ye sing sae, birdie, As gien ye war lord o’ the lift? On breid ye’re an unco sma’ lairdi… But in hicht ye’ve a kingly gift! A’ ye hae to coont yersel rich in
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
‘Good morrow, my lord!’ in the sky… Sang the lark as the sun ascended… ‘Shine on me, my lord: I only am… Of all your servants, to welcome y… I have shot straight up, a whole h…
O Father, I am in the dark, My soul is heavy-bowed: I send my prayer up like a lark, Up through my vapoury shroud, To find thee,
Oh! the bonny, bonny dell, whaur t… Wi’ a clip o’ the sunshine atween… Whaur the birks are a’ straikit wi… And the brume hings its lamps by d… Whaur the burnie comes trottin owe…
He who by a mother’s love Made the wandering world his own, Every year comes from above, Comes the parted to atone, Binding Earth to the Father’s thr…