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Is your love for the Lord sufficient to give all your time and talents to his work?

Robert Browning

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Robert Browning
Age: 77 †
Born: 1812
Born: May 7
Died: 1889
Died: December 12
Dramaturgy
Playwright
Poet
Writer
London
England
Robert Barrett Browning
Browning
Love
Talents
Sufficient
Talent
Lord
Give
Giving
Work
Time

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Truth never hurt the teller.
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What a name! Was it love or praise? Speech half-asleep or song half-awake? I must learn Spanish, one of these days, Only for that slow sweet name's sake.
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Would you have your songs endure? Build on the human heart.
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One who never turned his back but marched breast forward, never doubted clouds would break, Never dreamed, though right were worsted, wrong would triumph, Held we fall to rise, are baffled to fight better, sleep to wake.
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Mothers, wives and maids, These be the tools with which priests manage men.
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Italy, my Italy! Queen Mary's saying serves for me (When fortune's malice Lost her Calais): Open my heart, and you will see Graved inside of it 'Italy.'
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No! let me taste the whole of it, fare like my peers, The heroes of old, Bear the brunt, in a minute pay glad life's arrears Of pain, darkness and cold.
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Good strong thick stupefying incense-smoke!
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The trouble that most of us find with the modern matched sets of clubs is that they don't really seem to know any more about the game than the old ones did.
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Look not down but up!
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Love is energy of life.
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For I say this is death and the sole death,- When a man's loss comes to him from his gain, Darkness from light, from knowledge ignorance, And lack of love from love made manifest.
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Never the time and the place And the loved one all together.
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Hatred and cark and care, what place have they / In yon blue liberality of heaven?.
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Oh, to be in England Now that April's there, And whoever wakes in England Sees, some morning, unaware.
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The peerless cup afloat Of the lake-lily is an urn some nymph Swims bearing high above her head.
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Heart, fear nothing, for, heart, thou shalt find her- Next time, herself!-not the trouble behind her
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Good to forgive, Best to forget.
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Was there nought better than to enjoy? No feat which, done, would make time break, And let us pent-up creatures through Into eternity, our due? No forcing earth teach heaven's employ?
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He guides me and the bird. In His good time!
Robert Browning