Torpedo Boats (Cicely Fox Smith Poems)
There be poets in plenty have sung in the praiseOf the famous old names out of Old Navy days,Of Victory, ...
There be poets in plenty have sung in the praiseOf the famous old names out of Old Navy days,Of Victory, ...
All this was written on the next day's list. On which the busyness unfurled its cursive roots, pale but effective, ...
So precious, so often overlooked time away from the world that time alone with God in the silence in separation ...
Fasting, self-denial giving up distractions things of this world getting in the way Time freed from things to do's and ...
Clouding our focus noise of our lives drowning out the prompter God speaking to us We need to still ourselves ...
Who is king the center of our lives a matter of life and death so few get it right So ...
When we slip the chains of pursuit money and power when we value other things able then, only then to ...
Blocking out distractions rejecting the ways of the world calm in our spirits ever seeking the Lord Walking with the ...
Maybe on the mountain by the side of a stream in the woods or desert near the ocean, the sea ...
None of my possessions none of my past, my memories nothing compares with knowing Christ Seeking him all of my ...
Returning to the basics centering in our faith following the way of Jesus coming home to God In the Lenten ...
In the darkness, the world thousands of points of life different path, choices each to entice me to pull me ...
His sermon, on the rocks the important things in our lives, not the sand, the water, the little things the ...
She wonders if I believe the words I write about her faith, her beliefs, her love of God Her submission ...
IN life oft ills from self-imprudence spring; As proof, Candaules' story we will bring; In folly's scenes the king was ...
For a small child crossing the pen alone was a courageous feat, occasionally, with a maniacal bleat, the wether would ...
The opposite seeks the opposite and the drop of black grows within white until turning white into black and conversely ...
Light flows our war of mocking words, and yet, Behold, with tears mine eyes are wet! I feel a nameless ...
Light flows our war of mocking words, and yet, Behold, with tears mine eyes are wet! I feel a nameless ...
Goethe in Weimar sleeps, and Greece, Long since, saw Byron's struggle cease. But one such death remain'd to come; The ...
Ah, but the City of Pain: how strange its streets are: the false silence of sound drowning sound, and there--proud, ...
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