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Сторінка 41 - In the multitude of my thoughts within me thy comforts delight my soul.
Сторінка 116 - Should Fate command me to the farthest verge Of the green earth, to distant barbarous climes, Rivers unknown to song ; where first the sun Gilds Indian mountains, or his setting beam Flames on the Atlantic isles, 'tis nought to me ; Since God is ever present, ever felt, In the void waste as in the city full ; And where He vital breathes, there must be joy.
Сторінка 59 - I will bear the indignation of the Lord, because I have sinned against him, until he plead my cause, and execute judgment for me : he will bring me forth to the light, and I shall behold his righteousness.
Сторінка 7 - Although the fig-tree shall not blossom, neither shall fruit be in the vines ; the labour of the olive shall fail, and the fields shall yield no meat ; the flock shall be cut off from the fold, and there shall be no herd in the stalls ; yet I will rejoice in the Lord, and joy in the God of my salvation.
Сторінка 23 - Tis greatly wise to talk with our past hours ; And ask them, what report they bore to heaven : And how they might have borne more welcome news.
Сторінка 112 - My best desires are faint and few, I fain would strive for more ; But when I cry, " My strength renew !
Сторінка 170 - O thou bounteous giver of all good, Thou art of all thy gifts thyself the crown ! Give what thou canst, without thee we are poor ; And with thee rich, take what thou wilt away.
Сторінка 202 - Bless the Lord, O our souls, and all that is within us bless his holy name.
Сторінка 230 - Ye winds ! that have made me your sport, Convey to this desolate shore Some cordial endearing report Of a land I shall visit no more. My friends, do they now and then send A wish or a thought after me ? Oh, tell me I yet have a friend, Though a friend I am never to see.
Сторінка 13 - And these rejoicing eyes ! 2 The King himself comes near, And feasts his saints to-day ; Here we may sit, and see him here, And love, and praise, and pray. 3 One day, amidst the place Where my dear God hath been, Is sweeter than ten thousand days Of pleasurable sin.