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Home›Traditions›Reformed/Presbyterian

Reformed/Presbyterian Illustrations

God's absolute sovereignty, covenant theology, and Westminster Confessional standards.

Key question: “How does this text display God's sovereign grace and purpose, and ultimately bring glory to His name?”

24,198 sermon illustrations through the Reformed/Presbyterian lens

Poetry

An Old Man’s Thought of School.

AN old man’s thought of School; An old man, gathering youthful memories and blooms, that youth itself cannot. Now only do I know you! O...

Universal

Walt Whitman

135 words

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Poetry

The Canterbury Tales. The Parson's Tale.

THE PROLOGUE. By that the Manciple his tale had ended, The sunne from the south line was descended So lowe, that it was not to my sight Degrees nine-and-twenty as in height.

Universal

Geoffrey Chaucer

487 words

Poetry

449. Song—The Flowery banks of Cree

HERE is the glen, and here the bower All underneath the birchen shade; The village-bell has told the hour, O what can stay my lovely maid? ’Tis not Maria’s whispering call; ’Tis but the balmy breathing gale, Mixt with some...

Since Thou Hast Given Me This Good Hope, O God

SINCE thou hast given me this good hope, O God, That while my footsteps tread the flowery sod And the great woods embower me, and...

Universal

Robert Louis Stevenson

123 words

Poetry

Spain 1873–’74.

OUT of the murk of heaviest clouds, Out of the feudal wrecks, and heap’d-up skeletons of kings, Out of that old entire European debris—the shatter’d mummeries, Ruin’d cathedrals, crumble of palaces, tombs of priests, Lo!

Sonnet 145: Those lips that Love's own hand did make

Those lips that Love's own hand did make, Breathed forth the sound that said 'I hate', To me that languish'd for her sake: But when she saw my woeful state, Straight in her heart did mercy come, Chiding that tongue...

The Same

(As revised by Mr. Locock.) Melodious Arethusa, o'er my verse Shed thou once more the spirit of thy stream: (Two lines missing.) Who denies verse to Gallus? So, when thou Glidest beneath the green and purple gleam Of Syracusan waters,...

Sonnet 130: My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun

My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun; Coral is far more red, than her lips red: If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun; If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.

Epistle to a Friend,

banish care"--such ever be The motto of _thy_ revelry!

Universal

George Gordon, Lord Byron

319 words

Poetry

Sonnet 32 - The first time that the sun rose on thine oath

The first time that the sun rose on thine oath To love me, I looked forward to the moon To slacken all those bonds which seemed too soon And quickly tied to make a lasting troth.

Universal

Elizabeth Barrett Browning

104 words

Poetry

The Forerunners

The harbingers are come. See, see their mark; White is their colour, and behold my head. But must they have my brain? must they dispark Those sparkling notions, which therein were bred? Must dulnesse turn me to a clod? Yet...

To [Harriet]

sweet is the moonbeam that sleeps on yon fountain, And sweet the mild rush of the soft-sighing breeze, And sweet is the glimpse of yon dimly-seen mountain, 'Neath the verdant arcades of yon shadowy trees.

To Edward Williams

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.

Spring

Sound the flute! Now it's mute! Bird's delight, Day and night, Nightingale, In the dale, Lark in sky,-- Merrily, Merrily merrily, to welcome in the year.

395. Sonnet on the Author’s Birthday

SING on, sweet thrush, upon the leafless bough, Sing on, sweet bird, I listen to thy strain, See aged Winter, ’mid his surly reign, At thy blythe carol, clears his furrowed brow.

538. Song—Now Spring has clad the grove in green

NOW spring has clad the grove in green, And strew’d the lea wi’ flowers; The furrow’d, waving corn is seen Rejoice in fostering showers. While ilka thing in nature join Their sorrows to forego, O why thus all alone are...

My Triumph

The autumn-time has come; On woods that dream of bloom, And over purpling vines, The low sun fainter shines. The aster-flower is failing, The hazel's gold is paling; Yet overhead more near The eternal stars appear!

Universal

John Greenleaf Whittier

293 words

Poetry

324. Song—The Charms of Lovely Davies

O HOW shall I, unskilfu’, try The poet’s occupation? The tunefu’ powers, in happy hours, That whisper inspiration; Even they maun dare an effort mair Than aught they ever gave us, Ere they rehearse, in equal verse, The charms o’ lovely Davies.

375. Song—The Deuks dang o’er my Daddie

THE BAIRNS gat out wi’ an unco shout, The deuks dang o’er my daddie, O! The fien-ma-care, quo’ the feirrie auld wife, He was but a paidlin’ body, O! He paidles out, and he paidles in, An’ he paidles late and early, O!

I learned -- at least -- what Home could be --

I learned -- at least -- what Home could be -- How ignorant I had been Of pretty ways of Covenant -- How awkward at...

Sonnet 19: Devouring Time, blunt thou the lion's paws

Devouring Time, blunt thou the lion's paws, And make the earth devour her own sweet brood; Pluck the keen teeth from the fierce tiger's jaws, And burn the long-liv'd phoenix, in her blood; Make glad and sorry seasons as thou...

314. Song—There’ll never be Peace till Jamie comes hame

BY yon Castle wa’, at the close of the day, I heard a man sing, tho’ his head it was grey: And as he was singing, the tears doon came,— There’ll never be peace till Jamie comes hame.

To Sophia [Miss Stacey]

Thou art fair, and few are fairer Of the Nymphs of earth or ocean; They are robes that fit the wearer-- Those soft limbs of thine, whose motion Ever falls and shifts and glances As the life within them dances.

To My Mother

Because I feel that, in the Heavens above, The angels, whispering to one another, Can find, among their burning terms of love, None so devotional as that of "Mother," Therefore by that dear name I long have called you-- You...

Universal

Edgar Allan Poe

112 words