Eternity has no gray hairs. The flowers fade, the heart withers, people grow old and die, the world lies down in the sepulchre of ages, but time writes no wrinkles on the brow of eternity. — Reginald Heber Copy Share Image
Eternity has no gray hairs! The flowers fade, the heart withers, man grows old and dies, the world lies down in the sepulchre of ages, but time writes no wrinkles on the brow of Eternity. — Reginald Heber Copy Share Image
The Son of God goes forth to war,A kingly crown to gain;His blood red banner streams afar:Who follows in His train?Who best can drink… — Reginald Heber Copy Share
Holy, holy, holy, Lord God Almighty! Early in the morning our song shall rise to thee. — Reginald Heber Copy Share
When the veil of death has been drawn between us and the objects of our regard, how quick-sighted do we become to their merits,… — Reginald Heber Copy Share
Thus heavenly hope is all serene,But earthly hope, how bright soe'er,Still fluctuates o'er this changing scene,As false and fleeting as 't is fair. — Reginald Heber Copy Share
Brightest and best of the sons of the morning, Dawn on our darkness, and lend us thine aid. Star of the east the horizon… — Reginald Heber Copy Share
Eternity has no gray hairs. The flowers fade, the heart withers, people grow old and die, the world lies down in the sepulchre of… — Reginald Heber Copy Share
With drooping bells of clearest blue Thou didst attract my childish view, Almost resembling The azure butterflies that flew Where on the heath thy… — Reginald Heber Copy Share
Remember that every guilty compliance with the humors of the world, every sinful indulgence of our own passions, is laying up cares and fears… — Reginald Heber Copy Share
We deny our Lord whenever, like Demas, we through love of this present world forsake the course of duty which Christ has plainly pointed… — Reginald Heber Copy Share
The birds that wake the morning, and those that love the shade; The winds that sweep the mountain or lull the drowsy glade; The… — Reginald Heber Copy Share
What though the spicy breezes Blow soft o'er Ceylon's isle; Though every prospect pleases, And only man is vile: In vain with lavish kindness… — Reginald Heber Copy Share
The flowers of Spring may wither, the hope of Summer fade, The Autumn droop in Winter, the birds forsake the shade; The winds be… — Reginald Heber Copy Share
