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Love masters agony the soul that seemed Forsaken feels her present God again And in her Father's arms Contented dies away.

John Keble

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John Keble
Age: 73 †
Born: 1792
Born: April 25
Died: 1866
Died: March 29
Hymnwriter
Philosopher
Poet
Theologian
University Teacher
Writer
Fairford
Gloucestershire
Present
Dies
Father
Forsaken
Death
Contented
Away
Agony
Soul
Seemed
Feels
Masters
Love
Arms

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God hath sworn to lift on high Who sinks himself by true humility.
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The trivial round, the common task,Would furnish all we ought to ask.
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Blest are the pure in heart, for they shall see our God. The secret of the Lord is theirs Their soul is Christ's abode.
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The voice that breathed o'er Eden, That earliest wedding day.
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Once you make up your mind never to stand waiting and hesitating when your conscience tells you what you ought to do, and you have got the key to every blessing that a sinner can reasonably hope for.
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Pride of the dewy morning, The swain's experienced eye From thee takes timely warning. Nor trusts the gorgeous sky.
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Why should we faint and fear to live alone,Since all alone, so Heaven has willed, we die?Nor even the tenderest heart, and next our own,Knows half the reasons why we smile and sigh.
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When the shore is won at last, Who will count the billow past?
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The deeds we do, the words we say,Into still air they seem to fleetWe count them ever pastBut they shall last -In the dread judgment theyAnd we shall meet.
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Peace is the first thing the angels sang.
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For as fire is kindled by fire, so is a poet's mind kindled by contact with a brother poet.
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Sprinkled along the waste of years Full many a soft green isle appears: Pause where we may upon the desert road, Some shelter is in sight, some sacred safe abode.
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Sweet is the smile of home the mutual look when hearts are of each other sure.
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