#EnglishWriters
Dear President, whose art sublime Gives perpetuity to time, And bids transactions of a day, That fleeting hours would waft awa… To dark futurity, survive,
The Saviour hides His face; My spirit thirsts to prove Renew’d supplies of pardoning grac… And never-fading love. The favor’d souls who know
In vain ye woo me to your harmless… Ye pleasant bowers, remote from st… Your shades, the witnesses of many… Breathed forth in happier days, ar… Denied that smile ’twas once my he…
Ah! wherefore should my weeping ma… Those gentle signs of undissembled… When from soft love proceeds the d… Ah, why forbid the willing tears t… Since for my sake each dear transl…
I suffer fruitless anguish day by… Each moment, as it passes, marks m… Scarce knowing whither, doubtfully… And see no end of all that I sust… The more I strive the more I am w…
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
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
My former hopes are fled, My terror now begins; I feel, alas! that I am dead In trespasses and sins. Ah, whither shall I fly?
William was once a bashful youth, His modesty was such, That one might say, to say the tru… He rather had too much. Some said that it was want of sens…
Oh how I love Thy holy Word, Thy gracious covenant, O Lord! It guides me in the peaceful way; I think upon it all the day. What are the mines of shining weal…
Dear Joseph,—five and twenty year… Alas! how time escapes—’tis even s… With frequent intercourse and alwa… And always friendly we were wont t… A tedious hour,—and now we never m…
The genius of the Augustan age His head among Rome’s ruins reare… And bursting with heroic rage, When literary Heron appeared, Thou hast, he cried, like him of o…
The new-born child of gospel grace… Like some fair tree when summer’s… Beneath Emmanuel’s shining face Lifts up his blooming branch on hi… No fears he feels, he sees no foes…
Since life in sorrow must be spent… So be it—I am well content, And meekly wait my last remove, Seeking only growth in love. No bliss I seek, but to fulfil
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,