Loading...
Loading...
2,201 illustrations — Poetic illustrations and verse for preaching
Between the dark and the daylight, When the night is beginning to lower, Comes a pause in the day's occupation, That is know as the children's hour.
So am I as the rich, whose blessed key, Can bring him to his sweet up-locked treasure, The which he will not every hour survey, For blunting the fine point of seldom pleasure.
The Rose did caper on her cheek -- Her Bodice rose and fell -- Her pretty speech -- like drunken men -- Did stagger pitiful...
When Faith and Love, which parted from thee never, Had ripened thy just soul to dwell with God, Meekly thou didst resign this earthly load Of death, called life, which us from life doth sever.
Can it be right to give what I can give? To let thee sit beneath the fall of tears As salt as mine, and hear the sighing years Re-sighing on my lips renunciative Through those infrequent smiles which fail to live For all thy adjurations?
So shall I live, supposing thou art true, Like a deceived husband; so love's face May still seem love to me, though alter'd new; Thy looks with me, thy heart in other place: For there can live no hatred in...
How Refer the cause?—Beloved, is it thou Or I, who makes me sad? The acolyte Amid the chanted joy and thankful rite May so fall flat, with pale insensate brow, On the altar-stair.
I know I heard the Corn, When I was carried by the Farms -- It had the Tassels on -- I thought how yellow it would look -- When Richard went to mill -- And then, I wanted to get...
The breaking waves dashed high On a stern and rock-bound coast, And the woods, against a stormy sky, Their giant branches tost; And the heavy night hung dark The hills and water o'er, When a band of exiles moored their...
God, if this were enough, That I see things bare to the buff And up to the buttocks in mire; That I ask nor hope nor hire, Nut in the husk, Nor dawn beyond the dusk, Nor life beyond death: God, if this were faith!
This is the Arsenal. From floor to ceiling, Like a huge organ, rise the burnished arms; But front their silent pipes no anthem pealing Startles the villages with strange alarms.
'Twas now the hour when Night had driven Her car half round yon sable heaven; Boötes, only, seem'd to roll His Arctic charge around the Pole; While mortals, lost in gentle sleep, Forgot to smile, or ceas'd to weep: At...
THERE IS NO WORK, NOR DEVICE, NOR KNOWLEDGE, NOR WISDOM, IN THE GRAVE, WHITHER THOU GOEST.--Ecclesiastes.
Swifter far than summer's flight-- Swifter far than youth's delight-- Swifter far than happy night, Art thou come and gone-- As the earth when leaves are dead, As the night when sleep is sped, As the heart when joy is...
O THOU dread Power, who reign’st above, I know thou wilt me hear, When for this scene of peace and love, I make this prayer sincere. The hoary Sire—the mortal stroke, Long, long be pleas’d to spare; To bless this...
God moves in a mysterious way His wonders to perform; He plants His footsteps in the sea, And rides upon the storm. Deep in unfathomable mines Of never-failing skill, He treasures up His bright designs, And works His sovereign will.
But do thy worst to steal thyself away, For term of life thou art assured mine; And life no longer than thy love will stay, For it depends upon that love of thine.
Oh never talk again to me Of northern climes and British ladies; It has not been your lot to see, Like me, the lovely Girl of Cadiz.
FAREWELL, thou stream that winding flows Around Eliza’s dwelling; O mem’ry! spare the cruel thoes Within my bosom swelling. Condemn’d to drag a hopeless chain And yet in secret languish; To feel a fire in every vein, Nor dare disclose my anguish.
The serpent is shut out from Paradise. The wounded deer must seek the herb no more In which its heart-cure lies: The widowed dove must cease to haunt a bower Like that from which its mate with feigned sighs Fled in the April hour.
AFAR 1 the illustrious Exile roams, Whom kingdoms on this day should hail; An inmate in the casual shed, On transient pity’s bounty fed, Haunted by busy memory’s bitter tale!
My period had come for Prayer -- No other Art -- would do -- My Tactics missed a rudiment -- Creator -- Was it you?...
Mark in my heart, O soul, where thou dost dwell, The picture of Christ crucified, and tell Whether that countenance can thee affright, Tears in his eyes quench the amazing light, Blood fills his frowns, which from his pierced head fell.
She has laughed as softly as if she sighed, She has counted six, and over, Of a purse well filled, and a heart well tried - Oh, each a worthy lover!
SermonWise.ai generates complete sermon outlines for any passage across 17 theological traditions.
Generate a sermon →