Charles Kingsley

Feast of John Vianney, Curè d'Ars, 1859 Continuing a short series of verse on Christ: From Thee all skill and read more

Feast of John Vianney, Curè d'Ars, 1859 Continuing a short series of verse on Christ: From Thee all skill and science flow, All pity, care and love, All calm and courage, faith and hope; O pour them from above. And part them, Lord, to each and all, As each and all shall need, To rise like incense, each to Thee, In noble thought and deed. And hasten, Lord, that perfect day When pain and death shall cease, And Thy just rule shall fill the earth With health and light and peace.

For science is . . . like virtue, its own exceeding great reward.

For science is . . . like virtue, its own exceeding great reward.

"O Mary, go and call the cattle home,
And call the cattle home,
And call the cattle read more

"O Mary, go and call the cattle home,
And call the cattle home,
And call the cattle home,
Across the sands o' Dee;"
The western wind was wild and dank wi' foam
And all alone went she.

One good man, one man who does not put on his religion once a week with his Sunday coat, but read more

One good man, one man who does not put on his religion once a week with his Sunday coat, but wears it for his working dress, and lets the thought of God grow into him, and through and through him, till everything he says and does becomes religious, that man is worth a thousand sermons -- he is a living Gospel -- he comes in the spirit and power of Elias -- he is the image of God. And men see his good works, and admire them in spite of themselves, and see that they are God-like, and that God's grace is no dream, but that the Holy Spirit is still among men, and that all nobleness and manliness is His gift, His stamp, His picture: and so they get a glimpse of God again in His saints and heroes, and glorify their Father who is in heaven.

The western tide crept up along the sand,
And o'er and o'er the sand,
And round and read more

The western tide crept up along the sand,
And o'er and o'er the sand,
And round and round the sand,
As far as eye could see
The rolling mist came down and hid the land:
And never home came she.