This cabin, Mary, in my sight app… Built as it has been in our waning… A rest afforded to our weary feet, Preliminary to—the last retreat.

‘Write to Sardis,’ saith the Lord… ‘And write what He declares, He whose Spirit, and whose word, Upholds the seven stars: All thy works and ways I search,

The billows swell, the winds are h… Clouds overcast my wintry sky; Out of the depths to Thee I call,… My fears are great, my strength is… O Lord, the pilot’s part perform,

Charon! receive a family on board Itself sufficient for thy crazy ya… Apollo and Diana, for a word By me too proudly spoken, slew us…

Believe it or not, as you choose, The doctrine is certainly true, That the future is known to the M… And poets are oracles too. I did but express a desire,

The Saviour, what a noble flame Was kindled in his breast, When hasting to Jerusalem, He march’d before the rest. Good will to men, and zeal for Go…

Boy, I hate their empty shows, Persian garlands I detest, Bring not me the late-blown rose, Lingering after all the rest. Plainer myrtle pleases me,

You give your cheks a rosy stain, With washes dye your hair; But paint and washes both are vain To give a youthful air. Those wrinkles mock your daily toi…

A poet’s cat, sedate and grave As poet well could wish to have, Was much addicted to inquire For nooks to which she might retir… And where, secure as mouse in chin…

I ransack’d for a theme of song, Much ancient chronicle, and long; I read of bright embattled fields, Of trophied helmets, spears, and s… Of chiefs, whose single arm could…

O Lord, my best desire fulfil, And help me to resign Life, health, and comfort to Thy… And make Thy pleasure mine. Why whould I shrink at Thy comman…

Where Humber pours his rich comme… There dwelt a wretch, who breathed… In subterraneous caves his life he… Black as the mine, in which he wro… When on a day, emerging from the d…

Honor and happiness unite To make the Christian’s name a pr… How fair the scene, how clear the… That fills the remnant of His day… A kingly character He bears,

My halting Muse, that dragg’st by… Thy slow, slow step, in melancholy… And lik’st that pace expressive of… Not less than Diopeia’s sprightli… When in the dance she beats with m…

Here lies, whom hound did ne’€™er… Nor swiftewd greyhound follow, Whose foot ne’€™er tainted morning… Nor ear heard huntsman’€™s hallo’€… Old Tiney, surliest of his kind,