And looking to the Heaven, that bends above you, How oft! I bless the Lot, that made me love you.

And in Life's noisiest hour, There whispers still the ceaseless Love of Thee, The heart's Self-solace and soliloquy. You mould my Hopes, you fashion me within.

Poetry is not the proper antithesis to prose, but to science. Poetry is opposed to science, and prose to metre. The proper and immediate object of science is t…

Trochee trips from long to short; From long to long in solemn sort Slow Spondee stalks.

Need-love cries to God from our poverty; Gift-love longs to serve, or even to suffer for, God; Appreciative love says: 'We give thanks to thee for thy great gl…

I observed, 'Love is the fulfilling of the law, the end of the commandment.' It is not only 'the first and great' command, but all the commandments in one. 'Wh…

Holiness is not the luxury of the few; it is a simply duty, for you and for me, because Jesus has very clearly stated, 'Be ye holy as my father in heaven is ho…