My halting Muse, that dragg’st by… Thy slow, slow step, in melancholy… And lik’st that pace expressive of… Not less than Diopeia’s sprightli… When in the dance she beats with m…

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…

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

(Jeremiah, XXIII.6) My God, how perfect are Thy ways! But mine polluted are; Sin twines itself about my praise, And slides into my prayer.

(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:

Holy Lord God! I love Thy truth, Nor dare Thy least commandment sl… Yet pierced by sin the serpent’s t… I mourn the anguish of the bite. But though the poison lurks within…

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…

Winter has a joy for me, While the Saviour’s charms I read… Lowly, meek, from blemish free, In the snowdrop’s pensive head. Spring returns, and brings along

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…

God of my life, to Thee I call, Afflicted at Thy feet I fall; When the great water-floods prevai… Leave not my trembling heart to fa… Friend of the friendless and the f…

Lord, who hast suffer’d all for me… My peace and pardon to procure, The lighter cross I bear for Thee… Help me with patience to endure. The storm of loud repining hush;

Hatred and vengence—my eternal por… Scarce can endure delay of executi… Wait with impatient readiness to s… Soul in a moment. Damned below Judas; more abhorred…

Airy del Castro was as bold a kni… As ever earned a lady’s love in fi… Many he sought, but one above the… His tender heart victoriously impr… In fairy land was born the matchle…

Blest! who, far from all mankind This world’s shadows left behind, Hears from heaven a gentle strain Whispering love, and loves again. Blest! who, free from self–esteem,

‘Me too, perchance, in future days… The sculptured stone shall show, With Paphian myrtle or with bays Parnassian on my brow. ’But I, or e’er that season come,