A Peep at the Pilgrims in Sixteen Hundred Thirty-six: A Tale of Olden Times, Volum 1

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Side 295 - Look not thou upon the wine when it is red, when it giveth his colour in the cup, when it moveth itself aright. At the last it biteth like a serpent, and stingeth like an adder.
Side 93 - through faith •wax valiant in fight, and turn to flight the armies of the aliens.
Side 122 - The world is also stablished, that it cannot depart. 2 Thy throne is fix'd of old, and thou from everlasting art. 3 The floods, O Lord, have lifted up, they lifted up their voice ; The floods have lifted up their waves, and made a mighty noise. 4 But yet the Lord, that is on high, is more of might by far Than noise of many waters is, or great sea-billows are.
Side 120 - Of tempests and the dangers of the deep, And pause at times, and feel that we are safe ; Then listen to the perilous tale again, And with an eager and suspended soul, Woo terror to delight us. . . But to hear The roaring of the raging elements, . . To know all human skill, all human strength, Avail not, . . to look...
Side 122 - Lord doth reign, and cloth'd is he with majesty most bright ; His works do shew him cloth'd to be, and girt about with might. The world is also stablished, that it cannot depart. 2 Thy throne is fix'd of old, and thou from everlasting art. 3 The floods, O Lord, have lifted up, they lifted up their voice ; The floods have lifted up their waves, and made a mighty noise. 4 But yet the Lord, that is on high, is more of might by far...
Side 78 - Her vest of gold Broidered with flowers, and clasped from head to foot: An emerald stone in every golden clasp; And on her brow, fairer than alabaster, A coronet of pearls. But then her face, So lovely, yet so arch, so full of mirth, — The overflowings of an innocent heart, — It haunts me still, though many a year has fled, Like some wild melody.
Side 77 - ... when far away. She sits, inclining forward as to speak, Her lips half-open, and her finger up, As though she said " Beware ! " her vest of gold Broidered with flowers, and clasped from head to foot, An emerald-stone in every golden clasp; And on her brow, fairer than alabaster, A coronet of pearls. But then her face, So lovely, yet so arch, so full of mirth, It haunts me still, though many a year has fled, Like some wild melody ! Alone it hangs Over a mouldering heir-loom, its companion, An oaken-chest,...
Side 11 - Scenes of woe and scenes of pleasure, Scenes that former thoughts renew ; Scenes of woe and scenes of pleasure ; Now a sad and last adieu ! THE BRAES O
Side 218 - But the climate does not justify the offence,* said Mr. Grey, 'and the scripture saith, "he that rnleth his spirit is better than he that taketh a city.

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