#EnglishWriters
When Hagar found the bottle spent And wept o’er Ishmael, A message from the Lord was sent To guide her to a well. Should not Elijah’s cake and crus…
Another Leonora once inspir’d Tasso, with fatal love to frenzy f… But how much happier, liv’d he now… Pierced with whatever pangs for lo… Since could he hear that heavenly…
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…
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,
... England, with all thy faults, I l… My country! and, while yet a nook… Where English minds and manners m… Shall be constrain’d to love thee.…
A hermit (or if 'chance you hold That title now too trite and old), A man, once young, who lived retir… As hermit could have well desired, His hours of study closed at last,
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…
As yet a stranger to the gentle fi… That Amathusia’s smiling Queen in… Not seldom I derided Cupid’s dart… And scorn’d his claim to rule all… Go, child, I said, transfix the t…
Of all the gifts Thine hand besto… Thou Giver of all good! Not heaven itself a richer knows Than my Redeemer’s blood. Faith too, the blood-receiving gra…
A. You told me, I remember, glory… On selfish principles, is shame an… The deeds that men admire as half… Stark naught, because corrupt in t… Strange doctrine this! that withou…
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,
Hear, Lord, the song of praise an… In heaven thy dwelling-place, From infants, made the public care… And taught to seek thy face! Thanks for thy word and for thy da…
The lapse of time and rivers is th… Both speed their journey with a re… The silent pace, with which they s… No wealth can bribe, no prayers pe… Alike irrevocable both when past,
The Spirit breathes upon the word… And brings the truth to sight; Precepts and promises afford A sanctifying light. A glory gilds the sacred page,
Pity, says the Theban bard, From my wishes I discard; Envy, let me rather be, Rather far, a theme for thee. Pity to distress is shown.