Tears flow, and cease not, where t… Till all who know him follow to th… Tears therefore fall where Cheste… Him wife, friends, brothers, child… And justly—few shall ever him tran…

Silent I sat, dejected, and alone… Making in thought the public woes… When, first, arose the image in my… Of England’s sufferings by that s… How death, his fun’ral torch and s…

Too many, Lord, abuse Thy grace In this licentious day, And while they boast they see Thy… They turn their own away. Thy book displays a gracious light

To Jesus, the crown of my hope, My soul is in haste to be gone; O bear me, ye cherubim, up, And waft me away to His throne! My Saviour, whom absent I love,

No strength of nature can suffice To serve the Lord aright: And what she has she misapplies, For want of clearer light. How long beneath the law I lay

Oh that Pieria’s spring would thr… Pour its inspiring influence, and… No rill, but rather an o’erflowing… That, for my venerable Father’s s… All meaner themes renounced, my M…

The Lord receives his highest pra… From humble minds and hearts since… While all the loud professor says Offends the righteous Judge’s ear… To walk as children of the day,

Jealous, and with love o’erflowing… God demands a fervent heart; Grace and bounty still bestowing, Calls us to a grateful part. Oh, then, with supreme affection

Thus heav’nward all things tend.… Perfect, and all must be at length… So God has greatly purpos’d; who… In his dishonour’d works himself e… Dishonour, and be wrong’d without…

My dear friend, If reading verse be your delight, ’Tis mine as much, or more, to wri… But what we would, so weak is man, Lies oft remote from what we can.

As one who, long in thickets and i… Entangled, winds now this way and… His devious course uncertain, seek… Or, having long in miry ways been… And sore discomfited, from slough…

His master taken from his head, Elisha saw him go; And in desponding accents said, “Ah, what must Israel do?” But he forgot the Lord who lifts

Did not my Muse (what can she les… Perceive her own unworthiness, Could she by some well-chosen them… But hope to merit your esteem, She would not thus conceal her lay…

There is a bird who, by his coat And by the hoarseness of his note, Might be supposed a crow; A great frequenter of the church, Where, bishop-like, he finds a per…

The lover, in melodious verses, His singular distress rehearses; Still closing with a rueful cry, ‘Was ever such a wretch as I!’ Yes! thousands have endured before