Explore "In Spite of All" by Edna Lyall on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
"But true religion, sprung from God above, / Is like her fountain, full of charity, / Embracing all things with a tender love! / Full of goodwill and meek expectancy; / Full of true justice and sure verity, / In heart and voice free, large, even infinite; / Not wedged in strict particularity, / But grasping all in her vast active spright; / Bright lamp of God! that men would joy in thy pure light." / --Henry More, 1642.
There was something indescribably desolate in the blank silence of the tiled house when Waghorn unlocked the door, and fumbled in the dusk for the tinder-box. No human being shared his dreary home, no animal kept him company or enlivened his solitary hours. It was undoubtedly owing to his loneliness that his tendency to gloomy fanaticism had, since his father's death, so greatly increased. The one joy left him appeared to be this morbid and exaggerated desire to root out all that he deemed wrong, and to punish all those who withstood his fiery zeal.