I AM a little weary of my life– Not thy life, blessed Father! Or… Too slowly laves the coral shores… Or I am weary of weariness and st… Open my soul-gates to thy living f…

FROM thine, as then, the healing… Into our hearts-that is the Fathe… From heart to heart it sinks, it s… From these that know thee still in… Here is my heart-from thine, Lord…

Come through the gloom of clouded… The slow dim rain and fog athwart; Through east winds keen with wrong… Come and lift up my hopeless heart… Come through the sickness and the…

To Jordan when our Lord had gone, His Father’s pleasure willing, He took his baptism of St. John, His work and charge fulfilling; Therein he did appoint a bath

I cannot praise thee. By his inst… The master sits, and moves nor foo… For see the organ-pipes this, that… Leaning, o’erthrown, like wheat-st… I well could praise thee for a flo…

Behind my father’s cottage lies A gentle grassy height Up which I often ran-to gaze Back with a wondering sight, For then the chimneys I thought h…

This is the sweetness of an April… The softness of the spring is on t… Of the old year. She has no natur… But something comes to her from fa… Out of the Past, and on her old d…

A power is on me, and my soul must… To thee, thou grey, grey man, whom… With those white-headed children.… To commune with thy setting, and t… My doubts on thy grey hair; for I…

O Lord, my God, how long Shall my poor heart pant for a bou… How long, O mighty Spirit, shall… The murmur of Truth’s crystal wat… From the deep caverns of their end…

LORD, what I once had done with… Had I been from the first true to… Grant me, now old, to do-with bett… And humbler heart, if not the brai… So wilt thou, in thy gentleness an…

Speak, Prophet of the Lord! We m… To find thee with us in thine anci… Haggard and pale from some bleak w… Empty of all save God and thy lou… Nor with like rugged message quick…

I would I were a child, That I might look, and laugh, and… And follow thee with running feet,… Be led through dark and wild! How I would hold thy hand,

It is no winter night comes down Upon our hearts, dear friends of o… But a May evening, softly brown, Whose wind is rather cold. We are not, like yon sad-eyed Wes…

Little one, you must not fret That I take your clothes away; Better sleep you so will get, And at morning wake more gay– Saith the children’s mother.

From the German of Dessler . O Lord, how happy is the time When in thy love I rest! When from my weariness I climb