John Keble

And taught by thee the Church prolongs
Her hymns of high thanksgiving still.

And taught by thee the Church prolongs
Her hymns of high thanksgiving still.

In silence, . . .
Steals on soft-handed Charity,
Tempering her gifts, that seem so free,
read more

In silence, . . .
Steals on soft-handed Charity,
Tempering her gifts, that seem so free,
By time and place,
Till not a woe the bleak world see,
But finds her grace.

Look in, and see Christ's chosen saint
In triumph wear his Christ-like chain;
No fear lest he read more

Look in, and see Christ's chosen saint
In triumph wear his Christ-like chain;
No fear lest he should swerve or faint;
"His life is Christ, his death is gain."

Once you make up your mind never to stand waiting and hesitating when your conscience tells you what you ought read more

Once you make up your mind never to stand waiting and hesitating when your conscience tells you what you ought to do, and you have got the key to every blessing that a sinner can reasonably hope for.

Soft as Memnon's harp at morning,
To the inward ear devout,
Touched by light, with heavenly warning
read more

Soft as Memnon's harp at morning,
To the inward ear devout,
Touched by light, with heavenly warning
Your transporting chords ring out.
Every leaf in every nook,
Every wave in every brook,
Chanting with a solemn voice
Minds us of our better choice.