#English
O Exiled Hearts—for you, for you— Love still can find the way! Hear the voices of the women on th… O Shadowed Lives—for you, for you… Hope hath not lost her ray!
Evening brings us home,— From our wanderings afar, From our multifarious labours, From the things that fret and jar; From the highways and the byways,
Say once again Thy sweet “I will!… In answer to my prayers. “Lord, if Thou wilt!”— —“I will! Rise up above thy cares!”
Burden-bearers are we all, Great and small. Burden-sharers be ye all, Great and small! Where another shares the load,
Through every minute of this day, Be with me, Lord! Through every day of all this week… Be with me, Lord! Through every week of all this yea…
Lord Christ, let me but hold Thy… And all the rest may go. For nothing is, but only seems, And life is full of idle dreams, Until Thyself we know.
We come from the gloom of the shad… Out away on the fringe of the Nig… Where no man could tell, when the… If his eyes would behold the light… To—the—Night,—
“My heart to-day Is strangely full of home! How is it With the dear ones over there? Five years!
(Cradle Song from “The Long Road… Whisht, Baby! Whisht! Quick below the cover! Down into your nest, my bird! And—don’t—you—dare—peep—over!
By the grace of God and the coura… Of the peoples far and wide, By the toil and sweat of those who… And the blood of those who died, We have won the fight, we have sav…
Though the times be dark and drear… Though the way be long, Keep your spirits bright and cheer… —'Bide a wee, and dinna weary!’ Is a heartsome song.
With the thirty pieces of silver, They bought the Potter’s Field; For none would have the blood-mone… And the interest it might yield. The Place of Blood for the Price…
I trod an arduous way, but came at… To where the city walls rose fair… Above the darkening plain,—a goodl… And eagerly, while yet a great way… My eyes did seek the Gates—the Gr…
A wonderful Way is The King’s Hi… It runs through the Nightlands up… From the wonderful WAS, by the w… To the still more wonderful IS T… Runs The King’s High Way.
The spikenard was not wasted;— All down the tale of years, The fragrance of that broken alaba… Still clings to Mary’s memory, As clung its perfume sweet unto he…