Sabbath Recreations: Or, Select Poetry of a Religious KindOtis, Broaders, 1839 - 288 sider |
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Side xi
... shine , and there have shone , Begin , my soul , the exalted lay ! Behold the western evening light , Behold this ruin ! ' Twas a skull , Bereft of all , when hopeless care , Beyond , beyond that boundless sea , Page . 123 166 171 27 44 ...
... shine , and there have shone , Begin , my soul , the exalted lay ! Behold the western evening light , Behold this ruin ! ' Twas a skull , Bereft of all , when hopeless care , Beyond , beyond that boundless sea , Page . 123 166 171 27 44 ...
Side 59
... shine ? — To hew the rock or wear the gem Can nothing now avail to them ; But if the page of truth they sought , Or comfort to the mourner brought , These hands a richer meed shall claim , Than all that waits on wealth or fame . Avails ...
... shine ? — To hew the rock or wear the gem Can nothing now avail to them ; But if the page of truth they sought , Or comfort to the mourner brought , These hands a richer meed shall claim , Than all that waits on wealth or fame . Avails ...
Side 69
... shine . All soothed and subdued in the midst of the scene , God of Nature ! I cried , here Religion may kneel- This temple thou fillest ! -majestic , serene— On this turf let me worship ! —the GODHEAD I feel . LOVE . THEY sin who tell ...
... shine . All soothed and subdued in the midst of the scene , God of Nature ! I cried , here Religion may kneel- This temple thou fillest ! -majestic , serene— On this turf let me worship ! —the GODHEAD I feel . LOVE . THEY sin who tell ...
Side 74
... , And golden spoils allure , Unspotted still your garments shine , Your hands are ever pure . Whene'er you touch the poet's lyre , A loftier strain is heard ; Each ardent thought is yours alone , And every burning 74.
... , And golden spoils allure , Unspotted still your garments shine , Your hands are ever pure . Whene'er you touch the poet's lyre , A loftier strain is heard ; Each ardent thought is yours alone , And every burning 74.
Side 85
... shine . Thou art the voice of Hope : The music of the spheres- A song of blessings yet to come , A herald from my future home , My soul delighted hears : By sin deceived , By nature grieved , Still am I nearer rest than when I first ...
... shine . Thou art the voice of Hope : The music of the spheres- A song of blessings yet to come , A herald from my future home , My soul delighted hears : By sin deceived , By nature grieved , Still am I nearer rest than when I first ...
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Sabbath Recreations: Or, Select Poetry of a Religious Kind Emily Taylor Uten tilgangsbegrensning - 1839 |
Sabbath Recreations, Or, Select Poetry of a Religious Kind: Chiefly Taken ... John Pierpont,Emily Taylor Ingen forhåndsvisning tilgjengelig - 2013 |
Vanlige uttrykk og setninger
amaranthine angels beams beauty beneath Bernard Barton bids bless bless'd bliss bloom bosom bower breast breath breeze bright brow Caroline Fry child clouds cold dark dead death DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB divine dust earth earthly Edmeston Emily Taylor eternal fade fair Father fear feel fire flowers gloom glorious glory glow grace grave grief harp hath heart heaven heavenly Herbert Knowles holy hope hopes and fears hour HYMN leaves light lonely Lord lyre mighty morn mortal Mother's Love mourn night o'er pale peace praise prayer rest rill rise roll rose round Sabbath sacred Savior scene shade shine sigh silent sing skies sleep smile soft song soothe sorrow soul sphere spirit spring Star of Bethlehem stars storm stream sweet tears tempest thee thine thou art thought throne tomb tread vale voice wakes wandering wave weep wind wings youth
Populære avsnitt
Side 207 - DURING HIS SOLITARY ABODE IN THE ISLAND OF JUAN FERNANDEZ. I AM monarch of all I survey, My right there is none to dispute; From the centre all round to the sea, I am lord of the fowl and the hrute. 0 solitude! where are the charms
Side 274 - of light, Angels ! for ye behold him, and with songs And choral symphonies, day without night, Circle his throne rejoicing. Ye in heaven! On earth, join all ye creatures to extol Him first, him last, him midst, and without end! Fairest of stars, last in the train of night, Sure pledge of day, that
Side 133 - in purple and gold; And the sheen of their spears was like stars in the sea When the blue ware rolls nightly on deep Galilee. Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green, That host with their banners at sunset
Side 188 - gloom, O'ershadows all the earth and skies, Like some dark beauteous bird, whose plume Is sparkling with a thousand eyes, That sacred gloom, those fires divine, So grand, so countless, Lord, are thine. And every flower the summer wreathes Is born beneath that kindling eye: Where'er we turn, thy glories shine, And all things fair and bright are thine. THE
Side 205 - the blood of goat, The flesh of rams, I will not prize ; A contrite heart, an humble thought, Are mine accepted sacrifice." FUNERAL HYMN. YE midnight shades, o'er nature spread! Dumb silence of the dreary hour! In honor of the approaching dead, Around your awful terrors pour. Yes, pour around On this pale ground,
Side 163 - roam : But high she shoots through air and light, Above all low delay, Where nothing earthly bounds her flight, Nor shadow dims her way. So grant me, God, from every care And stain of passion free, Aloft, through virtue's purer air, To hold my course to
Side 188 - vistas into heaven, Those hues that mark the sun's decline, So soft, so radiant, Lord, are thine. When night, with wings of stormy gloom, O'ershadows all the earth and skies, Like some dark beauteous bird, whose plume Is sparkling with a thousand eyes, That sacred gloom, those fires divine, So grand, so countless, Lord, are thine.
Side 201 - men, And the brightness of their smile was gone from upland, glade, and glen. And now when comes the calm, mild day, as still such days will come, To call the squirrel and the bee from out their winter home, When the sound of dropping nuts is heard, though all The
Side 157 - origin divine, God's glorious image—freed from clay, In heaven's eternal sphere shall shine, A star of day ! The sun is but a spark of fire, A transient meteor in the sky; The soul, immortal as its Sire, SHALL NEVER DIE ! GOD'S FIRST TEMPLES.—A
Side 177 - THE REV. W. MASON. TAKE, holy earth, all that my soul holds dear; Take that best gift, which Heaven so lately gave. To Bristol's fount I bore, with trembling care, Her faded form—she how'd to taste the wave, And died ! Does youth, does beauty read the line ? Does sympathetic fear their breast alarm ? Speak, dead