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Home›Traditions›Anglican

Anglican Illustrations

Scripture, Tradition, and Reason — the "three-legged stool" — seeking the via media.

Key question: “How do we faithfully interpret this text using the wisdom of Scripture, Church tradition, and God-given Reason?”

24,038 sermon illustrations through the Anglican lens

Poetry

Clock-a-Clay

In the cowslip pips I lie, Hidden from the buzzing fly, While green grass beneath me lies, Pearled with dew like fishes' eyes, Here I lie, a clock-a-clay, Waiting for the time of day.

Universal

John Clare

121 words

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Poetry

The Rose

Sweet serene sky-like flower, Haste to adorn her bower; From thy long cloudy bed Shoot forth thy damask head! New-startled blush of Flora, The grief of pale Aurora, Who will contest no more, Haste, haste to strew her floor!

Universal

Richard Lovelace

Short99 words

Poetry

In My Solitary Hours in My Dear Husband his Absence

O Lord, Thou hear'st my daily moan And see'st my dropping tears. My troubles all are Thee before, My longings and my fears. Thou hitherto hast been my God; Thy help my soul hath found. Though loss and sickness me...

Sonnet 89: Say that thou didst forsake me for some fault

Say that thou didst forsake me for some fault, And I will comment upon that offence: Speak of my lameness, and I straight will halt, Against thy reasons making no defence.

London

I wandered through each chartered street, Near where the chartered Thames does flow, A mark in every face I meet, Marks of weakness, marks of woe.

Sonnet 14: Not from the stars do I my judgement pluck

Not from the stars do I my judgement pluck; And yet methinks I have astronomy, But not to tell of good or evil luck, Of plagues, of dearths, or seasons' quality; Nor can I fortune to brief minutes tell, Pointing...

The Crow Sat on the Willow

The crow sat on the willow tree A-lifting up his wings, And glossy was his coat to see, And loud the ploughman sings, "I love...

A Woman's Last Word

Let's contend no more, Love, Strive nor weep: All be as before, Love, --Only sleep! What so wild as words are? I and thou In debate, as birds are, Hawk on bough! See the creature stalking While we speak! Hush...

Death

The winds and waters are in his command, Held as a courser in the rider's hand. He lets them loose, they triumph at his will: He checks their course and all is calm and still.

Epitaph. on Sir William Trumbull.

A pleasing form; a firm, yet cautious mind; Sincere, though prudent; constant, yet resign'd: Honour unchanged, a principle profess'd, Fix'd to one side, but moderate to the rest: An honest courtier, yet a patriot too; Just to his prince, and...

Reply to Some Verses of J. M. B. Pigot, Esq., on the Cruelty of His Mistress

Why, Pigot, complain Of this damsel's disdain, Why thus in despair do you fret? For months you may try, Yet, believe me, a _sigh_ Will never obtain a _coquette_. Would you teach her to love?

Universal

George Gordon, Lord Byron

277 words

Poetry

Ode On A Grecian Urn

Thou still unravish'd bride of quietness, Thou foster-child of silence and slow time, Sylvan historian, who canst thus express A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme: What leaf-fring'd legend haunts about thy shape Of deities or mortals, or of...

The Rainy Day

The day is cold, and dark, and dreary It rains, and the wind is never weary; The vine still clings to the mouldering wall, But at every gust the dead leaves fall, And the day is dark and dreary.

Universal

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

105 words

Poetry

The Passion

I Ere-while of Musick, and Ethereal mirth, Wherwith the stage of Ayr and Earth did ring, And joyous news of heav'nly Infants birth, My muse with Angels did divide to sing; But headlong joy is ever on the wing, In...

Sin's Round

Sorry I am, my God, sorry I am, That my offences course it in a ring. My thoughts are working like a busy flame, Until their cockatrice they hatch and bring: And when they once have perfected their draughts, My...

Dorothy Q.

GRANDMOTHER's mother: her age, I guess, Thirteen summers, or something less; Girlish bust, but womanly air; Smooth, square forehead with uprolled hair; Lips that lover has never kissed; Taper fingers and slender wrist; Hanging sleeves of stiff brocade; So they painted the little maid.

Universal

Oliver Wendell Holmes

429 words

Poetry

From "A Rhapsody"

Sweet solitude, what joy to be alone-- In wild, wood-shady dell to stay for hours. Twould soften hearts if they were hard as stone To see glad butterflies and smiling flowers.

Sunday Dip

The morning road is thronged with merry boys Who seek the water for their Sunday joys; They run to seek the shallow pit, and wade And dance about the water in the shade.

A Word for the Hour

The firmament breaks up. In black eclipse Light after light goes out. One evil star, Luridly glaring through the smoke of war, As in the dream of the Apocalypse, Drags others down. Let us not weakly weep Nor rashly threaten.

Universal

John Greenleaf Whittier

197 words

Poetry

Firwood

The fir trees taper into twigs and wear The rich blue green of summer all the year, Softening the roughest tempest almost calm And offering shelter ever still and warm To the small path that towels underneath, Where loudest winds--almost...

To Mary Who Died in This Opinion

Maiden, quench the glare of sorrow Struggling in thine haggard eye: Firmness dare to borrow From the wreck of destiny; For the ray morn's bloom revealing Can never boast so bright an hue As that which mocks concealing, And sheds its loveliest light on you.

Epitaph. on General Henry Withers, in Westminster Abbey, 1729.

Here, Withers, rest! thou bravest, gentlest mind, Thy country's friend, but more of human kind. Oh, born to arms! oh, worth in youth approved! Oh, soft humanity, in age beloved! For thee the hardy veteran drops a tear, And the...

Melody to a Scene of Former Times

Art thou indeed forever gone, Forever, ever, lost to me? Must this poor bosom beat alone, Or beat at all, if not for thee? why was love to mortals given, To lift them to the height of Heaven, Or dash...

On Opening a Place for Social Prayer

where'er Thy people meet, There they behold Thy mercy seat; Where'er they seek Thee, Thou art found, And every place is hallow'd ground. For Thou, within no walls confined, Inhabitest the humble mind; Such ever bring Thee where they come...

Universal

William Cowper

132 words