It Is A Happy Thing That There

No Wonder Of It: Sheer Plod Makes Plough Down Sillion Shine, And Blue-bleak Embers, Ah My Dear, Fall, Gall Themselves, And Gash Gold-vermilion.

Let Him Easter In Us, Be A Dayspring To The Dimness Of Us, Be A Crimson-cresseted East.

I Thought How Sadly Beauty Of Inscape Was Unknown And Buried Away From Simple People And Yet How Near At Hand It Was If They Had Eyes To See It And It Could Be Called Out Everywhere Again.

God?is So Great That All Things Give Him Glory If You Mean They Should.

My Own Heart Let Me More Have Pity On; Let Me Live To My Sad Self Hereafter Kind, Charitable; Not Live This Tormented Mind With This Tormented Mind Tormenting Yet.