Charles Kingsley

Tho' we earn our bread, Tom,
By the dirty pen,
What we can we will be,
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Tho' we earn our bread, Tom,
By the dirty pen,
What we can we will be,
Honest Englishmen.
Do the work that's nearest
Though it's dull at whiles,
Helping, when we meet them,
Lame dogs over stiles.

See the land, her Easter keeping, Rises as her Maker rose. Seeds, so long in darkness sleeping, Burst at last read more

See the land, her Easter keeping, Rises as her Maker rose. Seeds, so long in darkness sleeping, Burst at last from winter snows. Earth with heaven above rejoices...

One good man, one man who does not put on his religion once a week with his Sunday coat, but read more

One good man, one man who does not put on his religion once a week with his Sunday coat, but wears it for his working dress, and lets the thought of God grow into him, and through and through him, till everything he says and does becomes religious, that man is worth a thousand sermons -- he is a living Gospel -- he comes in the spirit and power of Elias -- he is the image of God. And men see his good works, and admire them in spite of themselves, and see that they are God-like, and that God's grace is no dream, but that the Holy Spirit is still among men, and that all nobleness and manliness is His gift, His stamp, His picture: and so they get a glimpse of God again in His saints and heroes, and glorify their Father who is in heaven.

Feast of John Vianney, Curè d'Ars, 1859 Continuing a short series of verse on Christ: From Thee all skill and read more

Feast of John Vianney, Curè d'Ars, 1859 Continuing a short series of verse on Christ: From Thee all skill and science flow, All pity, care and love, All calm and courage, faith and hope; O pour them from above. And part them, Lord, to each and all, As each and all shall need, To rise like incense, each to Thee, In noble thought and deed. And hasten, Lord, that perfect day When pain and death shall cease, And Thy just rule shall fill the earth With health and light and peace.

"O Mary, go and call the cattle home,
And call the cattle home,
And call the cattle read more

"O Mary, go and call the cattle home,
And call the cattle home,
And call the cattle home,
Across the sands o' Dee;"
The western wind was wild and dank wi' foam
And all alone went she.