John Byrom Poems

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The Three Black Crows

Two honest tradesmen meeting in the Strand,
One took the other briskly by the hand;
'Hark ye,' said he, ''tis an odd story this

Hymn For Christmas Day

Christians awake, salute the happy morn,
Whereon the saviour of the world was born;
Rise, to adore the mystery of love,

My Spirit Longs For Thee

My spirit longs for thee
Within my troubled breast
Though I unworthy be
Of so divine a guest:

On Church Communion - Part Iii.

A Local union, on the other hand,
Though crowded numbers should together stand,
Joining in one same Form of pray'r and praise,

Epigram Vii.

What is more tender than a mother's love
To the sweet infant fondling in her arms?
What need of arguments her heart to move

On Clergymen Preaching Politics

Indeed, Sir Peter, I could wish, I own,
That parsons would let politics alone;
Plead, if they will, the customary plea,

Christians, Awake, Salute The Happy Morn

Christians, awake, salute the happy morn
Whereon the Savior of the world was born.1
Rise to adore the mystery of love
Which hosts of angels chanted from above

On Church Communion - Part Iv.

A Christian, in so catholic a sense,
Can give to none, but partial minds offence;
Forc'd to live under some divided part,

On Church Communion - Part Ii.

If once establish'd the essential part,
The inward Church, the Temple of the Heart,
Or house of God, the substance, and the sum

A Poetical Version Of A Letter From Facob Behmen

’TIS Man’s own Nature, which in its own Life,
Or Centre, stands in Enmity and Strife,
And anxious, selfish, doing what it lists,

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