Hymn 8. Epiphany (Reginald Heber Poems)
Brightest and best of the sons of the morning!Dawn on our darkness, and lend us thine aid!Star of the East, ...
Brightest and best of the sons of the morning!Dawn on our darkness, and lend us thine aid!Star of the East, ...
TO THEM THAT MOURNLet your tears flow; let your sad sighs have scope;Only take heed they fan, they water Hope.A ...
Is it illusion? or does there a spirit from perfecter ages, Here, even yet, amid loss, change, and corruption abide? ...
I wonder if the spell, the mystery,That like a haze about your silence clings,Moulding your void until we seem to ...
WITH our late Vicar, and his age the same,His clerk, hight Jachin, to his office came;The like slow speech was ...
The moonlight fell down calm and clear, and sheeted The ...
Thou art sleeping, brother, sleeping In thy lonely battle grave;Shadows o'er the past are creeping,Death, the reaper, still is reaping,Years ...
Come, bring thy gift. If blessings were as slowAs men's returns, what would become of fools?What hast thou there? a ...
Where is Australia, singer, do you know? These sordid farms and joyless factories, Mephitic mines and lanes of pallid woe? ...
Rathe summer had sered the grass in which he layUnder the little shadeThe live-oak made,While things remembered and foregone,Loves from ...
For them we have builded a temple To stand as a visible sign.For them we have builded a temple, ...
Now comes to an end all our dolorous drifting;Clouds pass away and depression is lifting. Because we were wise in ...
Come, dear Heart!The fields are white to harvest: come and seeAs in a glass the timeless mysteryOf love, whereby we ...
It is time to give that-of-myself which I could not at first:To offer you now at last my least and ...
How should I sing when buffeting salt waves And stung with bitter surges, in whose might I toss, a cockleshell? ...
Yet read at last the story of my woe, The dreary abstracts of my endless cares, With my life's sorrow ...
It is time to give that-of-myself which I could not at first: To offer you now at last my least ...
Were't aught to me I bore the canopy, With my extern the outward honouring, Or laid great bases for eternity, ...
Were 't aught to me I bore the canopy, With my extern the outward honouring, Or laid great bases for ...
I, too, saw God through mud -- The mud that cracked on cheeks when wretches smiled. War brought more glory ...
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