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…

God is a zealous pruner, For He knows— Who, falsely tender, spares the kn… But spoils the rose.

Shapeless and grim, A Shadow dim O’erhung the ways, And darkened all my days. And all who saw,

As gold is tried in the furnace, So He tries the hearts of men; And the dwale and the dross shall… When He tries the hearts of men. And the wood, and the hay, and the…

('Be christs!'- was one of W. T. Stead’s favourite sayings. Not ‘Be like Christ!’- but– ‘Be christs!’ And he used the word no doubt in its original meaning,- anointed, ordained, chosen....

Every day is Judgment Day, Count on no to-morrow. He who will not, when he may, Act to-day, to-day, to-day, Doth but borrow

“A red rose for my helmet, And a word before we part! The rose shall be my oriflamme The word shall fill my heart.” Heart, Heart, Heart of my heart—

The Golden Rose is blowing still, Is growing still, is glowing still… In lonely vale, on lordly hill, The Golden Rose is glowing still;… If only you can find it!

Christ stands at the bar of the wo… As He stood in the days of old. And still, as then, we do betray Our Lord for greed of gold. When our every deed and word and t…

Lord, when on my bed I lie, Sleepless, unto Thee I’ll cry; When my brain works overmuch, Stay the wheels with Thy soft tou… Just a quiet thought of Thee,

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——

Unless our Souls win back to Thee… We shall have lost this fight. Yes, though we win on field and se… Though mightier still our might ma… We still shall lose if we win not…

The Greatest Day that ever dawned… It was a Winter’s Morn. The Finest Temple ever built Was a Shed where a Babe was born. The Sweetest Robes by woman wroug…

Not what, but WHOM, I do believ… That, in my darkest hour of need, Hath comfort that no mortal creed To mortal man may give;— Not what, but WHOM!

(Cradle Song from “The Long Road… Whisht, Baby! Whisht! Quick below the cover! Down into your nest, my bird! And—don’t—you—dare—peep—over!