Faith.

What here we hope for, we shall once inherit;
By faith we all walk here, not by the Spirit.

Robert Herrick

Robert Herrick was a 17th-century English lyric poet and cleric. He is known for his book of poems, "Hesperides," which includes the carpe diem poem "To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time." His works are noted for their clarity, simplicity, and musical quality. Herrick was also a vicar of Dean Prior in Devon, despite being ejected during the English Civil War and later reinstated.

Robert Herrick

Christ.

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

To God.

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

Cruelty Base In Commanders.

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

Kisses Loathsome.

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

English

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Faith Four-Square.

Faith is a thing that's four-square; let it fall
This way or that, it not declines at all.

Robert Herrick

Hope Heartens.

None goes to warfare but with this intent -
The gains must dead the fears of detriment.

Robert Herrick

Sufferance.

In the hope of ease to come,
Let's endure one martyrdom.

Robert Herrick

A Will To Be Working.

Although we cannot turn the fervent fit
Of sin, we must strive 'gainst the stream of it;
And howsoe'er we have the conquest miss'd,
'Tis for our glory that we did resist.

Robert Herrick

His Creed.

I do believe that die I must,
And be return'd from out my dust:
I do believe that when I rise,
Christ I shall see, with these same eyes:
I do believe that I must come,
With others, to the dreadful doom:
I do believe the bad must go
From thence, to everlasting woe:
I do believe the good, and I,
Shall live with Him eternally:
I do believe I shall inherit
Heaven, by Christ's mercies, not my merit.
I do believe the One in Three,
And Three in perfect unity:
Lastly, that JESUS is a deed
Of gift from God: and here's my creed.

Robert Herrick

Hope

Faith may break on reason,
Faith may prove a treason
To that highest gift
That is granted by Thy grace;
But Hope! Ah, let us cherish
Some spark that may not perish,
Some tiny spark to cheer us,
As we wander through the waste!

A little lamp beside us,
A little lamp to guide us,
Where the path is rocky,
Where the road is steep.
That when the light falls dimmer,
Still some God-sent glimmer
May hold us steadfast ever,
To the track that we should keep.

Hope for the trending of it,
Hope for the ending of it,
Hope for all around us,
That it ripens in the sun.

Hope for what is waning,
Hope for what is gaining,
Hope for what is waiting
When the long day is done.

Hope that He, the nameless,
May still b...

Arthur Conan Doyle