#EnglishWriters
(Genesis, V.24) Oh! for a closer walk with God, A calm and heavenly frame; A light to shine upon the road That leads me to the Lamb!
Dear Anna,—Between friend and fri… Prose answers every common end; Serves, in a plain and homely way, To express the occurrence of the d… Our health, the weather, and the n…
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,
Androcles, from his injured lord,… Of instant death, to Lybia’s dese… Tired with his toilsome flight, an… He spied at length a cavern’s cool… But scarce had given to rest his w…
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…
Sweet tenants of this grove! Who sing without design, A song of artless love, In unison with mine: These echoing shades return
To tell the Saviour all my wants, How pleasing is the task! Nor less to praise Him when He gr… Beyond what I can ask. My laboring spirit vainly seeks
Bestow, dear Lord, upon our youth The gift of saving grace; And let the seed of sacred truth Fall in a fruitful place. Grace is a plant, where’er it grow…
O love, of pure and heavenly birth… O simple truth, scarce known on ea… Whom men resist with stubborn will… And, more perverse and daring stil… Smother and quench, with reasoning…
Hair, wax, rouge, honey, teeth you… A multifarious store! A mask at once would all supply Nor would it cost you more.
Happy songster, perch’d above, On the summit of the grove, Whom a dewdrop cheers to sing With the freedom of a king, From thy perch survey the fields
A Spartan 'scaping from the fight… His mother met him in his flight, Upheld a falchion to his breast, And thus the fugitive address’d: ‘Thou canst but live to blot with…
Oh that those lips had language!… With me but roughly since I heard… Those lips are thine’thy own swe… The same that oft in childhood sol… Voice only fails, else, how distin…
A Nightingale that all day long Had cheered the village with his s… Nor yet at eve his note suspended, Nor yet when eventide was ended, Began to feel, as well he might,
I sing of a journey to Clifton, We would have perform’d if we coul… Without cart or barrow to lift on Poor Mary and me through the mud; Slee, sla, slud,