Poets in the PulpitSampson, Law, Marston, Searle & Rivington, 1880 - 291 стор. |
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Сторінка 7
... hand the springs of national life and religion in many lands . In 1854 he resigned his professorship . In 1868 and 1869 he was with us in England . He went to Oxford , and there they conferred on him the Hon . D.C.L. degree . In 1874 he ...
... hand the springs of national life and religion in many lands . In 1854 he resigned his professorship . In 1868 and 1869 he was with us in England . He went to Oxford , and there they conferred on him the Hon . D.C.L. degree . In 1874 he ...
Сторінка 9
... hand , One touch of fire , and all the rest is mystery ! — The pleasant books , that silently among Our household treasures take familiar places , And are to us as if a living tongue Spake from the printed leaves or pictured faces ...
... hand , One touch of fire , and all the rest is mystery ! — The pleasant books , that silently among Our household treasures take familiar places , And are to us as if a living tongue Spake from the printed leaves or pictured faces ...
Сторінка 12
... hands seemed there- Like one in prayer I stood . And wherever he turns divine whispers reach his unspoiled heart , and his words flow forth with the gentle grace and simplicity of a child's prayer : Wondrous truths , and manifold as ...
... hands seemed there- Like one in prayer I stood . And wherever he turns divine whispers reach his unspoiled heart , and his words flow forth with the gentle grace and simplicity of a child's prayer : Wondrous truths , and manifold as ...
Сторінка 15
... hands , where theirs have ceased from their labours ; Thousands of weary feet , where theirs have completed their journey ! And whether he touches on the passing away of a little child in the first dawn of life , or a young man or woman ...
... hands , where theirs have ceased from their labours ; Thousands of weary feet , where theirs have completed their journey ! And whether he touches on the passing away of a little child in the first dawn of life , or a young man or woman ...
Сторінка 19
... hands so meekly , Spake with us on earth no more ! And with them the Being Beauteous , Who unto my youth was given ... hand in mine . And she sits and gazes at me With those deep and tender eyes , — Like the stars , so still and saint ...
... hands so meekly , Spake with us on earth no more ! And with them the Being Beauteous , Who unto my youth was given ... hand in mine . And she sits and gazes at me With those deep and tender eyes , — Like the stars , so still and saint ...
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Сторінка 21 - Tell me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream ! — For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem. Life is real ! Life is earnest ! And the grave is not its goal; Dust thou art, to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul.
Сторінка 18 - There is no Death ! What seems so is transition. This life of mortal breath Is but a suburb of the life elysian, Whose portal we call Death.
Сторінка 275 - Through the dear might of him that walked the waves ; Where other groves and other streams along, With nectar pure his oozy locks he laves, And hears the unexpressive nuptial song, In the blest kingdoms meek of joy and love. There entertain him all the saints above, In solemn troops, and sweet societies, That sing, and singing, in their glory move And wipe the tears for ever from his eyes.
Сторінка 16 - THERE is a Reaper, whose name is Death, And, with his sickle keen, He reaps the bearded grain at a breath, And the flowers that grow between.
Сторінка 237 - Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright; The bridal of the earth and sky : The dew shall weep thy fall to-night, For thou must die.
Сторінка 267 - That time of year thou may'st in me behold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. In me thou seest the twilight of such day As after sunset fadeth in the west, Which by and by black night doth take away, Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.
Сторінка 269 - When to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past, I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, And with old woes new wail my dear time's •waste...
Сторінка 251 - SHE dwelt among the untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dove, A Maid whom there were none to praise And very few to love: A violet by a mossy stone Half hidden from the eye! — Fair as a star, when only one Is shining in the sky.
Сторінка 180 - New mercies, each returning day, Hover around us while we pray ; New perils past, new sins forgiven, New thoughts of God, new hopes of heaven. If on our daily course our mind Be set to hallow all we find, New treasures still, of countless price, God will provide for sacrifice.
Сторінка 271 - No war, or battle's sound Was heard the world around: The idle spear and shield were high up hung; The hooked chariot stood Unstain'd with hostile blood ; The trumpet spake not to the arme'd throng; And kings sat still with awful eye, As if they surely knew their sovran Lord was by 51 TT 52 BOOK SECOND.