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answer Arthur asked assist beauty become brought Captain Ashmead child color comfort course Daisy daughter dear delicate desire Diantha doctor dress Edna Edna's expression eyes face fashionable father favor feel fortune girl give given Goodenow grief hand Hanthrop heart honor hope Howell Howell's interest keep kind lady leave letter light live look Louise mamma Mary means Metcalf minute Miss months morning mother nature never patient permit pleasure poor present promised quiet Ralph ready reasons received rest secure seemed singing society soon soul spend spirit Stephen stocks strength strong style sweet tastes tears tell tender thank thought tion told tone trust turned voice waiting wealth week wife wish woman wreck York young
Side 117 - Heaven is not reached at a single bound ; But we build the ladder by which we rise From the lowly earth to the vaulted skies, And we mount to its summit round by round.
Side 174 - Not for the world: why, man, she is mine own; And I as rich in having such a jewel, As twenty seas, if all their sand were pearl, The water nectar, and the rocks pure gold.
Side 108 - CHARACTER OF A HAPPY LIFE How happy is he born and taught That serveth not another's will; Whose armor is his honest thought, And simple truth his utmost skill!
Side 23 - I count this thing to be grandly true : That a noble deed is a step toward God, Lifting the soul from the common clod To a purer air and a broader view.
Side 243 - The sea of Fortune doth not ever flow, She draws her favours to the lowest ebb ; Her tides have equal times to come and go, Her loom doth weave the fine and coarsest web ; No joy so great but runneth to an end, No hap so hard but may in fine amend.
Side 323 - Lo, this is the man that made not God his strength; but trusted in the abundance of his riches, and strengthened himself in his wickedness.
Side 287 - BE MERCIFUL unto me, O God, be merciful unto me: for my soul trusteth in thee: yea, in the shadow of thy wings will I make my refuge, until these calamities be overpast.
Side 164 - Sweet rose, whose hue angry and brave Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye, Thy root is ever in its grave, And thou must die Sweet spring, full of sweet days and roses, A box where sweets compacted lie. My music shows ye have your closes. And all must die. Only a sweet and virtuous soul, Like seasoned timber, never gives ; But though the whole world turn to coal, Then chiefly lives.