When the Bells of Ys rang softly,… Soft—and sweet—and low, Not a sound was heard in the old g… As the silvery tones came floating… But life stood still with uncovere…

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 Potter, playing with his lump o… Fashioned an image of supremest wo… "Never was nobler image made on ea… Than this that I have fashioned o… And I, of mine own skill, did fas…

Britain! Our Britain! uprisen in… Of your white wrath at treacheries… Roused from your sleep, become onc… Of those high things which make li… Now, God be thanked for even such…

Our feet have wandered, wandered f… His mercy endureth for ever! From that strait path in which the… His mercy endureth for ever! Low have we fallen from our high e…

He writes in characters too grand For our short sight to understand; We catch but broken strokes, and t… To fathom all the mystery Of withered hopes, of death, of li…

Let no man stand between my God a… I claim a Free man’s right Of intercourse direct with Him, Who gave me Freedom with the air… God made me free.—

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!

Though every nerve be strained To fine accomplishment, Full oft the life fall spent Before the prize is gained. And, in our discontent

To lift the sombre fringes of the… To open lands long darkened to the… To heal grim wounds, to give the b… Right mightily wrought he. Forth to the fight he fared,

Out of all the reek and turmoil Of the dreadful battle-plain, Came a voice insistent, calling, Calling, calling, but in vain;— “Through Me only

I have been tried, Tried in the fire, And I say this, As the result of dire distress, And tribulation sore—

The wind blows shrill along the hi… —Black is the night and cold— The sky hangs low with its weight… And the drifts are deep on the wol… But what care I for wind or snow?

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,—

And hast Thou help for such as me… Sin-weary, stained, forlorn? “Yea then,—if not for such as thee To what end was I born?” But I have strayed so far away,