Sleep sweetly, tender heart, in peace;Sleep, holy spirit, blessed soul,While the stars burn, the moons increase,And the great ages onward roll. Sleep till the end, true soul and sweet. Nothing comes to thee new or strange. Sleep full of rest from head to feet;Lie still, dry dust, secure of change.

What the sunshine is to the flower, the Lord Jesus Christ is to my soul.

An English homegrey twilight poured On dewy pasture, dewy trees, Softer than sleepall things in order stored, A haunt of ancient Peace.

The greater man the greater courtesy.

Ah, Christ, that it were possible, For one short hour to see The souls we loved, that they might tell us What and where they be.

I can't be anonymous by reason of your confounded photographs. (To Julia Margaret Cameron)

He makes no friend who never made a foe.