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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?”

24,072 sermon illustrations through the Anglican lens

Poetry

The Thanksgiving

Oh King of grief! (a title strange, yet true, To thee of all kings only due) Oh King of wounds! how shall I grieve for thee, Who in all grief preventest me? Shall I weep blood? why thou has wept...

Universal

George Herbert

337 words

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Poetry

Phryne.

IMMITATION OF ENGLISH POETS. EARL OF DORSET Phryne had talents for mankind, Open she was, and unconfined, Like some free port of trade: Merchants unloaded here their freight, And agents from each foreign state Here first their entry made.

Universal

Alexander Pope

183 words

Poetry

Hail! Childish Slave Of Social Rules

Childish slaves of social rules You had yourselves a hand in making! How I could shake your faith, ye fools, If but I thought it worth the shaking.

Universal

Robert Louis Stevenson

321 words

Poetry

Holy Sonnet XI: Spit In My Face You Jews, And Pierce My Side

Spit in my face you Jews, and pierce my side, Buffet, and scoff, scourge, and crucify me, For I have sinned, and sinned, and only he Who could do no iniquity hath died: But by my death can not be...

Winter-Time

Late lies the wintry sun a-bed, A frosty, fiery sleepy-head; Blinks but an hour or two; and then, A blood-red orange, sets again. Before the stars have left the skies, At morning in the dark I rise; And shivering in...

Universal

Robert Louis Stevenson

110 words

Poetry

Hodge

He plays with other boys when work is done, But feels too clumsy and too stiff to run, Yet where there's mischief he can find a way The first to join and last [to run] away.

551. Ballad on Mr. Heron’s Election—No. 4

WHA will buy my troggin, fine election ware, Broken trade o’ Broughton, a’ in high repair? Chorus.—Buy braw troggin frae the banks o’ Dee; Wha wants troggin let him come to me.

The Flowers

All the names I know from nurse: Gardener's garters, Shepherd's purse, Bachelor's buttons, Lady's smock, And the Lady Hollyhock. Fairy places, fairy things, Fairy woods where the wild bee wings, Tiny trees for tiny dames-- These must all be fairy names!

Universal

Robert Louis Stevenson

Short71 words

Poetry

The Chain I Gave. From the Turkish

The chain I gave was fair to view, The lute I added sweet in sound; The heart that offered both was true, And ill deserved the fate it found. These gifts were charmed by secret spell, Thy truth in absence...

Universal

George Gordon, Lord Byron

139 words

Poetry

Vision of Belshazzar

The King was on his throne, The Satraps thronged the hall: A thousand bright lamps shone O'er that high festival. A thousand cups of gold, In Judah deemed divine-- Jehovah's vessels hold The godless Heathen's wine!

Universal

George Gordon, Lord Byron

238 words

Poetry

Sonnet 40: Take all my loves, my love, yea take them all

Take all my loves, my love, yea take them all; What hast thou then more than thou hadst before? No love, my love, that thou mayst true love call; All mine was thine, before thou hadst this more.

I Dreamt of Robin

I opened the casement this morn at starlight, And, the moment I got out of bed, The daisies were quaking about in their white And the cowslip was nodding its head.

Ozymandias

I met a traveller from an antique land Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone Stand in the desert...Near them, on the sand, Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown, And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold...

On the Dark Height of Jura

Ghosts of the dead! have I not heard your yelling Rise on the night-rolling breath of the blast, When o'er the dark aether the tempest is swelling, And on eddying whirlwind the thunder-peal passed?

Herod's Lament for Mariamne

Oh, Mariamne! now for thee The heart for which thou bled'st is bleeding; Revenge is lost in Agony And wild Remorse to rage succeeding. Oh, Mariamne! where art thou? Thou canst not hear my bitter pleading: Ah! could'st thou--thou would'st...

Universal

George Gordon, Lord Byron

155 words

Poetry

Praise for Faith

Of all the gifts Thine hand bestows, Thou Giver of all good! Not heaven itself a richer knows Than my Redeemer's blood. Faith too, the blood-receiving grace, From the same hand we gain; Else, sweetly as it suits our case,...

The Flower

How fresh, O Lord, how sweet and clean Are thy returns! ev'n as the flowers in spring; To which, besides their own demean, The late-past frosts tributes of pleasure bring. Grief melts away Like snows in May, As if there were no such cold thing.

The Funeral

Whoever comes to shroud me, do not harm Nor question much That subtle wreath of hair which crowns my arm; The mystery, the sign, you must not touch, For 'tis my outward Soul, Viceroy to that which then to heaven...

Remember Him, Whom Passion's Power

Remember him, whom Passion's power Severely--deeply--vainly proved: Remember thou that dangerous hour, When neither fell, though both were loved. That yielding breast, that melting eye,...

Universal

George Gordon, Lord Byron

337 words

Poetry

Song

I peeled bits of straws and I got switches too From the grey peeling willow as idlers do, And I switched at the flies as I sat all alone Till my flesh, blood, and marrow was turned to dry bone.

To Lord Thurlow

"_I lay my branch of laurel down_." "_THOU_ lay thy branch of _laurel_ down!" Why, what thou'st stole is not enow; And, were it lawfully thine own, Does Rogers want it most, or thou?

Universal

George Gordon, Lord Byron

187 words

Poetry

Sonnet 97: How like a winter hath my absence been

How like a winter hath my absence been From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year! What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen! What old December's bareness everywhere!

Fears and Scruples

Here's my case. Of old I used to love him. This same unseen friend, before I knew: Dream there was none like him, none above him,-- Wake to hope and trust my dream was true. Loved I not his letters full of beauty?

Early Nightingale

When first we hear the shy-come nightingales, They seem to mutter oer their songs in fear, And, climb we eer so soft the spinney rails, All stops as if no bird was anywhere.

Universal

John Clare

Short97 words