O Lord, I cannot but believe The birds do sing thy praises then… And they are lying seed-sown land… Their little bosoms breeding songs… If thou hadst finished me, O Lord…

‘Shew us the Father.’ Chiming sta… And lives that fit the worlds, and… A Thought that holds them up reve… A Wisdom we have been made wise t… And, looking out from sweetest Na…

In God alone, the perfect end, Wilt thou find thyself or friend.

There was John Gordon an’ Archib… An’ a yerl’s twin sons war they; Quhan they war are an’ twenty year… They fell oot on their ae birthday… ‘Turn ye, John Gordon, nae brithe…

Brother artist, help me; come! Artists are a maimed band: I have words but not a hand; Thou hast hands though thou art du… Had I thine, when words did fail–

There cam a man to oor toon-en’, And a waesome carl was he, Snipie-nebbit, and crookit-mou’d, And gleyt o’ a blinterin ee. Muckle he spied, and muckle he spa…

I AM a little weary of my life– Not thy life, blessed Father! Or… Too slowly laves the coral shores… Or I am weary of weariness and st… Open my soul-gates to thy living f…

Lie down upon the ground, thou hop… Press thy face in the grass, and d… Dost feel the green globe whirl?… Climbeth she out of darkness to th… Which is her God; seven times she…

Here stands a giant stone from who… Comes down the sounding water: let… Till every sense of man and human… Is wrecked and quenched for ever,… Into the whirl of time, and withou…

I have long enough been working do… Working spade and pick, boring-chi… I long for wider spaces, airy, cle… Successless labour never the love… More profit surely lies in a holy,…

Oh, melancholy fragment of the nig… Drawing thy lazy web against the s… Thou shouldst have waited till the… With kindred glooms to build thy f… Sublime amid the ruins of the ligh…

If I might guess, then guess I wo… That, mid the gathered folk, This gentle Dorcas one day stood, And heard when Jesus spoke. She saw the woven seamless coat–

‘Little one, who straight hast com… Down the heavenly stair, Tell us all about your home, And the father there.’ ‘He is such a one as I,

Old fables are not all a lie That tell of wondrous birth, Of Titan children, father Sky, And mighty mother Earth. Yea, now are walking on the ground

It is no winter night comes down Upon our hearts, dear friends of o… But a May evening, softly brown, Whose wind is rather cold. We are not, like yon sad-eyed Wes…