As on a hill-top rude, when closin… Imbrowns the scene, some past’ral… Waters a lovely foreign plant with… That scarcely can its tender bud d… Borne from its native genial airs…

Pause here, and think; a monitory… Demands one moment of thy fleeting… Consult life’s silent clock, thy b… Seems it to say—'Health here has… Hast thou the vigour of thy youth?…

Cowper had sinned with some excuse… If, bound in rhyming tethers, He had committed this abuse Of changing ewes for wethers; But, male for female is a trope,

The sparkling eye, the mantling ch… The polished front, the snowy neck… How seldom we behold in one! Glossy locks, and brow serene, Venus’ smiles, Diana’s mien,

Thy mansion is the Christian’s he… O Lord, Thy dwelling place secure… Bid the unruly throng depart, And leave the consecrated door. Devoted as it is to Thee,

THE noon was shady, and soft airs Swept Ouse’s silent tide, When, 'scap’d from literary cares, I wander’d on his side. My spaniel, prettiest of his race,

’Tis my happiness below Not to live without the cross, But the Saviour’s power to know, Sanctifying every loss; Trials must and will befall;

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…

Did Cytherea to the skies From this pellucid lymph arise? Or was it Cytherea’s touch, When bathing here, that made it su…

Mortals! around your destined head… Thick fly the shafts of death, And lo! the savage spoiler spreads A thousand toils beneath. In vain we trifle with our fate,

They mock my toil—the nymphs and a… And whence this fond attempt to wr… Love-songs in language that thou l… How dar’st thou risque to sing the… Say truly. Find’st not oft thy pu…

In vain to live from age to age While modern bards endeavour, I write my name in Patty’s page, And gain my point for ever.

Sin has undone our wretched race; But Jesus has restored, And brought the sinner face to fac… With his forgiving Lord. This we repeat from year to year

There is a book, which we may call (Its excellence is such) Alone a library, though small; The ladies thumb it much. Words none, things numerous it con…

(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: