No stir in the air, no stir in the sea,
The Ship was still as she could be;
It's a warm wind, the west wind, full of birds' cries;
I never hear the west wind but tears are in my eyes.
When skies are black instead of azure blue
And all the world seems sadly out of tune,
The Shepherd and the King,
The Angel and the Ass,
He was just a small church parson when the war broke out, and he
Looked and dressed and acted like all parsons that we see.
The sea's a place for sailormen in fair or stormy weather;
'Round the world and back again they're all good mates together.
THE Lord God planted a garden
In the first white days of the world,
I'd rather see a sermon than hear one any day;
I'd rather one should walk with me than merely tell the way.
AS Christ the Lord was passing by,
He came, one night, to a cottage door.
Ah! what little hearts are ours
To hold the miseries of the world!
"Pan is not dead, he lives for ever!
Mere and mountain, forest, seas,
If you would please me when I've passed away
Let not your grief embitter you. Be brave;
Under the pines, near the murmuring brook,
I know the wild orchids grow,
They say that life's just what we make it.
Each one guides the course of his soul:
He paused where the river meets the wood,
And watched on its limpid plane
At his side I watched,
For he had been in Christ a son to me,
At times, the mind speaks forth its pleasure
And clothes its thoughts in pigment or in rhyme.
Under the sunset's golden ray,
Yonder mountain, green and gray,
I am dreaming tonight by my fireside,
Of my pal and those days long ago;
The man has spread his silver wings,
Is six miles nearer heaven,
Sing, youth, the loveliest song you know!
Sing the song that seethes within your breast,
'O selfless man and stainless gentleman!'
EVEN so, 'Goth giveth His beloved sleep!'
THE little hamlet lies within the vale
One side the winding river, yet it seems
'Who is the greatest in the Kingdom of Heaven?'
A SIMPLE cross, let in the outer wall
'The love of things created endureth not; the love of Jesus is faithful.'
Thomas À Kempis.
MOTHER: thy name, trembling upon the breath,
Makes loss so near and loneliness so lone
'Until the day dawn.'
DEAR father in the flesh and in the Lord,
MOST strange!
Most queer,— although most excellent a change
In ancient days, so saith an old Romaunt,
There lived a knight, brave, rich, and nobly born,
ALL to the sea at last! Sweet is the hymn
And its calm close, 'the ocean of His Love,'
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