Loading...
Loading...
2,201 illustrations — Poetic illustrations and verse for preaching
Poet of Nature, thou hast wept to know That things depart which never may return: Childhood and youth, friendship and love's first glow, Have fled like sweet dreams, leaving thee to mourn. These common woes I feel. One loss is...
Thee, God, I come from, to thee go, All day long I like fountain flow From thy hand out, swayed about Mote-like in thy mighty...
A soul as full of worth, as void of pride, Which nothing seeks to show, or needs to hide, Which nor to guilt nor fear its caution owes, And boasts a warmth that from no passion flows.
Drink to me only with thine eyes, And I will pledge with mine; Or leave a kiss but in the cup, And I'll not look for wine.
The sea awoke at midnight from its sleep, And round the pebbly beaches far and wide I heard the first wave of the rising tide Rush onward with uninterrupted sweep; A voice out of the silence of the deep, A...
Rousseau--Voltaire--our Gibbon--and De Staël-- Leman! these names are worthy of thy shore, Thy shore of names like these!
How can my muse want subject to invent, While thou dost breathe, that pour'st into my verse Thine own sweet argument, too excellent For every vulgar paper to rehearse?
Huge elm, with rifted trunk all notched and scarred, Like to a warrior's destiny!
Wilt thou love God, as he thee? Then digest, My soul, this wholesome meditation, How God the Spirit, by angels waited on In heaven, doth make his Temple in thy breast.
If thy soul check thee that I come so near, Swear to thy blind soul that I was thy 'Will', And will, thy soul knows, is admitted there; Thus far for love, my love-suit, sweet, fulfil.
The golden gates of Sleep unbar Where Strength and Beauty, met together, Kindle their image like a star In a sea of glassy weather! Night, with all thy stars look down,-- Darkness, weep thy holiest dew,-- Never smiled the inconstant...
When I do count the clock that tells the time, And see the brave day sunk in hideous night; When I behold the violet past prime, And sable curls, all silvered o'er with white; When lofty trees I see barren...
No, Time, thou shalt not boast that I do change: Thy pyramids built up with newer might To me are nothing novel, nothing strange; They are but dressings of a former sight.
Love, meet me in the green glen, Beside the tall elm tree, Where the sweet briar smells so sweet agen; There come with me, Meet me in the green glen.
Gaily bedight, A gallant knight, In sunshine and in shadow, Had journeyed long, Singing a song, In search of Eldorado. But he grew old-- This knight so bold-- And o'er his heart a shadow Fell as he found No spot...
Faster and more fast, O'er night's brim, day boils at last: Boils, pure gold, o'er the cloud-cup's brim.
Cupid laid by his brand and fell asleep: A maid of Dian's this advantage found, And his love-kindling fire did quickly steep In a cold valley-fountain of that ground; Which borrow'd from this holy fire of Love, A dateless lively...
From you have I been absent in the spring, When proud-pied April, dress'd in all his trim, Hath put a spirit of youth in every thing, That heavy Saturn laugh'd and leap'd with him.
OVER the land is April, Over my heart a rose; Over the high, brown mountain The sound of singing goes. Say, love, do you hear...
It was roses, roses, all the way, With myrtle mixed in my path like mad; The house-roofs seemed to heave and sway, The church-spires flamed, such flags they had, A year ago on this very day.
Remind me not, remind me not, Of those beloved, those vanish'd hours, When all my soul was given to thee; Hours that may never be...
behold, interred together, The _souls_ of learning and of leather. Poor Joe is gone, but left his _all_: You'll find his relics in a _stall_. His works were neat, and often found Well stitched, and with _morocco_ bound.
I have no wit, no words, no tears; My heart within me like a stone Is numbed too much for hopes or fears.
How stern are the woes of the desolate mourner, As he bends in still grief o'er the hallowed bier, As enanguished he turns from the laugh of the scorner, And drops, to Perfection's remembrance, a tear; When floods of despair...
SermonWise.ai generates complete sermon outlines for any passage across 17 theological traditions.
Generate a sermon →