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— Arthur Hugh Clough"When panting sighs the bosom fill, And hands by chance united thrill At once with one delicious pain The pulses and the nerves of twain; When eyes that erst could meet with ease, Do seek, yet, seeking, shyly shun Ecstatic conscious unison, - The sure beginnings, say, be these Prelusive to the strain of love Which angels sing in heaven above?"
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Night by night I will lie down and sleep in the thought of God, and in the thought, too, that my waking may be in the bosom of the Father; and some time it will be, so I trust.
— William Mountford
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Jesu, lover of my soul, Let me to thy bosom fly, While the nearer waters roll, While the tempest still is high; Hide me,O my Saviour, hide, Till the storm of life is past; Safe into the haven guide, O receive my soul at last.
— Charles Wesley
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