And after the earthquake was a fire; but the Lord was not in the
fire: and after the fire read more

And after the earthquake was a fire; but the Lord was not in the
fire: and after the fire a still small voice.

. . . solitude is such a potential thing. We hear voices in solitude, we never hear in the hurry read more

. . . solitude is such a potential thing. We hear voices in solitude, we never hear in the hurry and turmoil of life; we receive counsels and comforts, we get under no other condition . . .

Her silver voice
Is the rich music of a summer bird,
Heard in the still night, with read more

Her silver voice
Is the rich music of a summer bird,
Heard in the still night, with its passionate cadence.

He ceased; but still their trembling ears retained
The deep vibrations of his witching song.

He ceased; but still their trembling ears retained
The deep vibrations of his witching song.

Oh, there is something in that voice that reaches
The innermost recesses of my spirit!

Oh, there is something in that voice that reaches
The innermost recesses of my spirit!

I grant you, friends, if you should fright the ladies out of
their wits, they would have no more read more

I grant you, friends, if you should fright the ladies out of
their wits, they would have no more discretion but to hang us;
but I will aggravate my voice so that I will roar you as gently
as any suckling dove; I will roar you an 'twere any nightingale.

There is no index of character so sure as the voice.

There is no index of character so sure as the voice.

There is no index so sure as the voice.

There is no index so sure as the voice.

The voice so sweet, the words so fair,
As some soft chime had stroked the air;
And read more

The voice so sweet, the words so fair,
As some soft chime had stroked the air;
And though the sound had parted thence,
Still left an echo in the sense.