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beauty beneath bitter bless breast breath bright brow changeful child clear close cold dark death deep dream earth echo eyes face fade faint fair fall fear feel flowers fond gaze gentle give given glad glory grace grave green hand happy hath head hear heard heart Heaven hope hour human labour land leaves lies Life's light lips lives lone look lost man's mind morning mother mournful nature never night Note o'er pain pale pass poor prison rest rich round shadow sigh sleep smile soft sorrow soul sound spirit spring stand strange strength struggle summer sweet tears thee thine things thou thought true turn voice wandering watch wave weak weary weep wild young youth
Side 65 - But this is that which was spoken by the prophet Joel ; And it shall come to pass in the last days, saith God, I will pour out of my Spirit upon all flesh : and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, and your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams: And on my servants and on my handmaidens I will pour out in those days of my Spirit; and they shall prophesy...
Side 161 - And the city had no need of the sun, neither of the moon, to shine in it : for the glory of God did lighten it, and the Lamb is the light thereof.
Side 169 - And thither were all the flocks gathered : and they rolled the stone from the well's mouth, and watered the sheep, and put the stone again upon the well's mouth in his place.
Side 143 - And pinch'd with cold, and shrinking from the shower, With heavy heart deplores that luckless hour, When idly first, ambitious of the town, She left her wheel and robes of country brown.
Side 67 - The poplars are fell'd : farewell to the shade, And the whispering sound of the cool colonnade ; The winds play no longer and sing in the leaves, Nor Ouse on his bosom their image receives.
Side 172 - Tis morn, but scarce yon level sun Can pierce the war-clouds, rolling dun, Where furious Frank and fiery Hun' Shout in their sulphurous canopy. The combat deepens. On, ye brave, Who rush to glory, or the grave ! Wave, Munich ! all thy banners wave ! And charge with all thy chivalry ! Few, few shall part where many meet ! The snow shall be their winding-sheet, And every turf beneath their feet Shall be a soldier's sepulchre.
Side 169 - I know thy works, that thou art neither cold nor hot: I would thou wert cold or hot. So then because thou art lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I will spue thee out of my mouth.
Side 211 - Fainter her slow step falls from day to day, Death's hand is heavy on her darkening brow; Yet doth she fondly cling to earth and say: " I am content to die, but oh! not now! Not while the blossoms of the joyous spring Make the warm air such luxury to breathe; Not while the birds such lays of gladness sing; Not while bright flowers around my footsteps wreathe. Spare me, great God, lift up my drooping brow ! I am content to die — but, oh! not now!