John Keble

Sprinkled along the waste of years
Full many a soft green isle appears:
Pause where we may read more

Sprinkled along the waste of years
Full many a soft green isle appears:
Pause where we may upon the desert road,
Some shelter is in sight, some sacred safe abode.

EPIPHANY If on our daily course our mind Be set to hallow all we find, New treasures still of countless read more

EPIPHANY If on our daily course our mind Be set to hallow all we find, New treasures still of countless price God will provide for sacrifice. The trivial round, the common task Will furnish all we ought to ask; Room to deny ourselves -- a road To bring us daily nearer God.

God hath sworn to lift on high
Who sinks himself by true humility.

God hath sworn to lift on high
Who sinks himself by true humility.

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

But when eve's silent footfall steals
Along the eastern sky,
And one by one to earth reveals
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But when eve's silent footfall steals
Along the eastern sky,
And one by one to earth reveals
Those purer fires on high.