Time beats out all things with his… Things great, things small. With steady strokes that never fai… With slow, sure strokes of his iro… Time beats out all.

“Thy Will be done!” Let all the worlds Resound with that divinest prayer! The joyous souls redeemed from ill Know all the wonders of Thy Will;

With the thirty pieces of silver, They bought the Potter’s Field; For none would have the blood-mone… And the interest it might yield. The Place of Blood for the Price…

Watchman! What of the night? No light we see,— Our souls are bruised and sickened… Of this foul crime against humanit… The Ways are dark——

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…

King’s Daughter! Wouldst thou be all fair, Without—within— Peerless and beautiful, A very Queen?

There is darkness still, gross dar… On this fair earth of Thine. There are prisoners still in the p… Where never a light doth shine. There are doors still bolted again…

Unnamed at times, at times unknown… Our graves lie thick beyond the se… Unnamed, but not of Him unknown;— He knows!—He sees! And not one soul has fallen in vai…

Not for one single day Can I discern my way, But this I surely know,— Who gives the day, Will show the way,

And hast Thou help for such as me… Sin-weary, stained, forlorn? “Yea then,—if not for such as thee To what end was I born?” But I have strayed so far away,

"Comfort ye, my people!" Saith your God,-- "And be ye comforted! And--be--ye--comforted!" Roughly my plough did plough you,

With a will! With a will! With a will and surely! Without fail, Drive each nail,

To us it seemed his life was too s… Ended, indeed, while scarcely yet… God, with His clearer vision, saw… Was ready for a larger ministry. Just so we thought of Him, whose…

“My lord, there came unto the gate One, in such pitiful estate, So all forlorn and desolate, Ill-fed, ill-clad, of ills compact… A leper too,—his poor flesh wracke…