#English
Midway between the flaming lines h… A tumbled heap of blood, and sweat… —God’s son! And none could succour him. Fi… Then that... and then another..…
Not what, but WHOM, I do believ… That, in my darkest hour of need, Hath comfort that no mortal creed To mortal man may give;— Not what, but WHOM!
We thank Thee, Lord, For all Thy Golden Silences,— For every Sabbath from the world’… For every respite from the stress… Silence of moorlands rolling to th…
On Christmas Day The Child was b… On Christmas Day in the morning;— —To tread the long way, lone and l… —To wear the bitter crown of thorn… —To break the heart by man’s sins…
An Anticipation As sure as God’s in His Heaven, As sure as He stands for Right, As sure as the hun this wrong hath… So surely we win this fight!
Lord God of Hosts, whose mighty h… Dominion holds on sea and land, In Peace and War Thy Will we see Shaping the larger liberty. Nations may rise and nations fall,
Hello! Hello! Are you there? Are you there? Ah! That you? Well,— This is just to tell you That there’s trouble in the air...
“A red rose for my helmet, And a word before we part! The rose shall be my oriflamme The word shall fill my heart.” Heart, Heart, Heart of my heart—
Shapeless and grim, A Shadow dim O’erhung the ways, And darkened all my days. And all who saw,
Time beats out all things with his… Things great, things small. With steady strokes that never fai… With slow, sure strokes of his iro… Time beats out all.
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…
(THE PLEA OF THE MUNI… “Rattle and clatter and clank and… And it’s long and long the day is. From earliest morn to late at nigh… And all night long, the selfsame s…
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…
Is there, in you or me, Seed of that poison-tree Which, in its bitter fruiting, bor… Such vintage sore Of red calamity—
Better in bitterest agony to lie, Before Thy throne, Than through much increase to be l… And stand alone. Better by one sweet soul, constant…
