Art thou lonely, O my brother? Share thy little with another! Stretch a hand to one unfriended, And thy loneliness is ended. So both thou and he

Flora, with wondrous feathers in h… Rain-soaked, and limp, and feeling… With flowers of sorts in her full… Back to the railings, there by Ch… And cursed the weather and a blank…

An inconclusive peace!— A peace that would be no peace— Naught but a treacherous truce for… Of a later, greater, baser-still b… “No!”...

By William Arthur Dunkerley (Joh… "‘See this my garden, Large and fair!’" —Thus, to his friend, The Philosopher.

When, with bowed head, And silent-streaming tears, With mingled hopes and fears, To earth we yield our dead; The Saints, with clearer sight,

Though every nerve be strained To fine accomplishment, Full oft the life fall spent Before the prize is gained. And, in our discontent

Earthly props are useless, On Thy grace I fall; Earthly strength is weakness, Father, on Thee I call,— For comfort, strength, and guidanc…

Hark! The drums! Muffled drums! The long low ruffle of the drums!— And every head is bowed, In the vast expectant crowd, As the Great Queen comes,—

When the outer eye grows dim, Turns the inner eye to Him, Who makes darkness light. Fairer visions you may see, Live in nobler company,

Out of all the reek and turmoil Of the dreadful battle-plain, Came a voice insistent, calling, Calling, calling, but in vain;— “Through Me only

I trod an arduous way, but came at… To where the city walls rose fair… Above the darkening plain,—a goodl… And eagerly, while yet a great way… My eyes did seek the Gates—the Gr…

A wonderful Way is The King’s Hi… It runs through the Nightlands up… From the wonderful WAS, by the w… To the still more wonderful IS T… Runs The King’s High Way.

Bond-slave to Christ, and in my b… Earmarked to Him I counted less t… His man henceforward, eager to be… That wondrous Love which Saul the… Sought him and found him, working…

Rabbi, begone! Thy powers Bring loss to us and ours. Our ways are not as Thine. Thou lovest men, we—swine. Oh, get you hence, Omnipotence,

Winter hung about the ways, Very loth to go. Little Spring could not get past… Try she never so. This side,—that side, everywhere,