Angel Meadow

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Religious Tract Society, 1883 - 192 стор.
 

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Сторінка 77 - O Trinity of love and power ! Our brethren shield in danger's hour ; From rock and tempest, fire and foe, Protect them wheresoe'er they go ; Thus evermore shall rise to thee Glad hymns of praise from land and sea.
Сторінка 132 - Love divine will fill thy storehouse, or thy handful still renew ; Scanty fare for one will often make a royal feast for two. For the heart grows rich in giving; all its wealth is living grain; Seeds, which mildew in the garner, scattered, fill with gold the plain.
Сторінка 25 - You hear that boy laughing? You think he's all fun; But the angels laugh, too, at the good he has done. The children laugh loud as they troop to his call, And the poor man that knows him laughs loudest of all!
Сторінка 86 - I was not ever thus, nor prayed that Thou Shouldst lead me on. I loved to choose and see my path, but now Lead Thou me on!
Сторінка 166 - Light of lights ! when falls the even, Let it close on sin forgiven ; Fold us in the peace of heaven, Shed a holy calm.
Сторінка 182 - Return, thou backsliding Israel, saith the Lord ; and I will not cause mine anger to fall upon you: for I am merciful, saith the Lord, and I will not keep anger for ever. Only acknowledge thine iniquity, that thou hast transgressed against the Lord thy God...
Сторінка 72 - My God, I thank Thee who hast made The Earth so bright ; So full of splendour and of joy, Beauty and light ; So many glorious things are here, Noble and right...
Сторінка 35 - O MAY I JOIN THE CHOIR INVISIBLE" Longum illud tempus, quum non era, magis me movet, quam hoc exiguum. — Cicero, Ad Att., xii: 18. O may I join the choir invisible Of those immortal dead who live again In minds made better by their presence: live In pulses stirred to generosity, In deeds of daring rectitude, in scorn For miserable aims that end with self, In thoughts sublime that pierce the night like stars, And with their mild persistence urge man's search To vaster issues.
Сторінка 55 - His dews drop mutely on the hill, His cloud above it saileth still, Though on its slope men sow and reap : More softly than the dew is shed, Or cloud is floated overhead, He giveth His beloved, sleep.
Сторінка 40 - Have you no words ? Ah ! think again, Words flow apace when you complain, And fill your fellow-creature's ear With the sad tale of all your care. Were half the breath thus vainly spent To Heaven in supplication sent, Your cheerful song would oftener be, " Hear what the Lord has done for me.

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