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…

To those who love the Lord I spea… Is my Beloved near? The Bridegroom of my soul I seek, Oh! when will He appear? Though once a man of grief and sha…

Traveller, regret not me; for thou… Just cause of sorrow none in my de… Who, dying, children’s children le… And with one wife lived many a yea… Three virtuous youths espoused my…

My soul is sad, and much dismay’d; See, Lord, what legions of my foe… With fierce Apollyon at their hea… My heavenly pilgrimage oppose. See, from the ever-burning lake,

With no rich viands overcharg’d,… Health, which perchance you want,… But wherefore should thy Muse tem… From what she loves, from darkness… Art thou desirous to be told how w…

Enamour’d, artless, young, on fore… Uncertain whither from myself to f… To thee, dear Lady, with an humbl… Let me devote my heart, which I h… By certain proofs not few, intrepi…

Nor oils of balmy scene produce, Nor mirror for Minerva’s use, Ye nymphs who lave her; she, array… In genuine beauty, scorns their ai… Not even when they left the skies,

Oh loved! but not enough—though de… Than self and its most loved enjoy… None duly loves thee, but who, nob… From sensual objects, finds his al… Glory of God! thou stranger here…

... Thou know’st my praise of nature m… And that my raptures are not conju… To serve occasions of poetic pomp, But genuine, and art partner of th…

Peace has unveiled her smiling fac… And wooes thy soul to her embrace, Enjoyed with ease, if thou refrain From earthly love, else sought in… She dwells with all who truth pref…

Did not thy reason, and thy sense, With most persuasive eloquence, Convince me that obedience due None may so justly claim as you, By right of beauty you would be

The Lord proclaims His grace abro… ‘Behold, I change your hearts of… Each shall renounce his idol-god, And serve, henceforth, the Lord a… ’My grace, a flowing stream, proce…

(Revelations, III. 1-6) “Write to Sardis,” saith the Lord… “And write what He declares, He whose Spirit, and whose word, Upholds the seven stars:

Thracian parents, at his birth, Mourn their babe with many a tear, But, with undissembled mirth, Place him breathless on his bier. Greece and Rome, with equal score…

Seest thou yon mountain laden with… The groves beneath their fleecy bu… The streams congeal’d, forget to f… Come, thaw the cold, and lay a che… Of fuel on the hearth;