#EnglishWriters
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…
Me to whatever state the gods assi… Believe, my love, whatever state b… Ne’er shall my breast one anxious… Ne’er shall my heart confess a rea… If to thy share heaven’s choicest…
There is a book, which we may call (Its excellence is such) Alone a library, though small; The ladies thumb it much. Words none, things numerous it con…
(Mark, XI.17) Thy mansion is the Christian’s he… O Lord, Thy dwelling place secure… Bid the unruly throng depart, And leave the consecrated door.
Says the Pipe to the Snuff-box,… What the ladies and gentlemen see… That you are in fashion all over t… And I am so much fallen into disg… ‘Do but see what a pretty contempl…
Still, still, without ceasing, I feel it increasing, This fervour of holy desire; And often exclaim, Let me die in the flame
Heal us, Emmanuel! here we are, Waiting to feel Thy touch: Deep-wounded souls to Thee repair And, Saviour, we are such. Our faith is feeble, we confess,
Here lies, whom hound did ne’er… Nor swiftewd greyhound follow, Whose foot ne’er tainted morning… Nor ear heard huntsman’s hallo’… Old Tiney, surliest of his kind,
At morn we placed on his funeral b… Young Melanippus; and, at eventid… Unable to sustain a loss so dear, By her own hand his blooming siste… Thus Aristippus mourn’d his noble…
’Twas my purpose, on a day, To embark, and sail away. As I climbed the vessel’s side, Love was sporting in the tide; ‘Come,’ he said, ‘ascend—make hast…
The fountain in its source, No drought of summer fears; The farther it pursues its course, The nobler it appears. But shallow cisterns yield
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,
(Zecheriah, XIII.1) There is a fountain fill’d with bl… Drawn from Emmanuel’s veins; And sinners, plunged beneath that… Lose all their guilty stains.
My lids with grief were tumid yet, And still my sullied cheek was wet With briny dews profusely shed For venerable Winton dead, When Fame, whose tales of saddest…
Israel in ancient days Not only had a view Of Sinai in a blaze, But learn’d the Gospel too; The types and figures were a glass…