The rambler in Worcestershire, or Stray notes on churches and congregations, Volum 2

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Side 151 - The noisy geese that gabbled o'er the pool, The playful children just let loose from school ; The watch-dog's voice that bay'd the whispering wind, And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind ; These all in sweet confusion sought the shade, And fill'd each pause the nightingale had made.
Side 251 - Calmness seems throned on yon unmoving cloud. To him who wanders o'er the upland leas The blackbird's note comes mellower from the dale, And sweeter from the sky the gladsome lark Warbles his...
Side 151 - But now the sounds of population fail, No cheerful murmurs fluctuate in the gale, No busy steps the grass-grown footway tread, For all the bloomy flush of life is fled.
Side 21 - How many blessed groups this hour are bending, Through England's primrose meadow-paths, their way Towards spire and tower, midst shadowy elms ascending, Whence the sweet chimes proclaim the hallowed day ! The halls...
Side 251 - That yestermorn bloom'd waving in the breeze. Sounds the most faint attract the ear : the hum Of early bee, the trickling of the dew, The distant bleating midway up the hill.
Side 306 - If a man die, shall he live again ? all the days of my appointed time will I wait, till my change come.
Side 314 - WE receive this child into the congregation of Christ's flock, * and do sign him with the sign of the cross, in token that hereafter he shall not be ashamed to confess the faith of Christ crucified, and manfully to fight under his banner, against sin, the world, and the Devil, and to continue Christ's faithful soldier and servant unto his life's end.
Side 25 - Now there was at Joppa a certain disciple named Tabitha, which by interpretation is called Dorcas: this woman was full of good works and almsdeeds which she did.
Side 333 - Yet after all do you know that I would rather sleep in the southern corner of a little country church-yard, than in the tomb of the Capulets. I should like, however, that my dust should mingle with kindred dust. The good old expression ' family burying-ground' has something pleasing in it, at least to me.
Side 44 - How shocking must thy summons be, O Death, To him that is at ease in his possessions, Who, counting on long years of pleasure here, Is quite unfurnish'd for that world to come ! In that dread moment how the frantic soul Raves round the walls of her clay tenement, Runs to each avenue, and shrieks for help, But shrieks in vain...

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