Poets in the PulpitSampson, Law, Marston, Searle & Rivington, 1880 - 291 стор. |
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Сторінка 11
... soul to God . We miss the natural influences which the sweet things of nature are designed to bring home to our hearts . We go with blunted perceptions and bleared eyes to God's beautiful world ; we fail to hear the secrets of the ...
... soul to God . We miss the natural influences which the sweet things of nature are designed to bring home to our hearts . We go with blunted perceptions and bleared eyes to God's beautiful world ; we fail to hear the secrets of the ...
Сторінка 16
... soul . But the spirit world itself becomes visible to him ; he is looking out from the loneliness of his life with ... souls are indeed lifted up with the hope that is full of immortality . Hear him on the death of little children ...
... soul . But the spirit world itself becomes visible to him ; he is looking out from the loneliness of his life with ... souls are indeed lifted up with the hope that is full of immortality . Hear him on the death of little children ...
Сторінка 18
... And beautiful with all the soul's expansion , Shall we behold her face . And though at times , impetuous with emotion , And anguish long suppressed , 1 The swelling heart heaves , moaning like the ocean That 18 Poets in the Pulpit .
... And beautiful with all the soul's expansion , Shall we behold her face . And though at times , impetuous with emotion , And anguish long suppressed , 1 The swelling heart heaves , moaning like the ocean That 18 Poets in the Pulpit .
Сторінка 21
... 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 . Not enjoyment , and not sorrow , Is ...
... 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 . Not enjoyment , and not sorrow , Is ...
Сторінка 36
... and with an eye turned now upon the fair sky , and sea , and earth , and now inwardly upon the panorama of the soul , uttered thoughts so high , and sweet , and gentle , that his own age could hardly hear them 36 Poets in the Pulpit .
... and with an eye turned now upon the fair sky , and sea , and earth , and now inwardly upon the panorama of the soul , uttered thoughts so high , and sweet , and gentle , that his own age could hardly hear them 36 Poets in the Pulpit .
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Author beautiful become begins body Book bright called century Christ Christian church close cloth extra coloured comes common Crown 8vo dark dead dear death deep Demy 8vo Divine earth Edition England English expression face fair faith feeling gilt edges give hand hear heart heaven History hope human Illustrations Italy land leave less light lines living look Lord lost mind nature never night numerous once pain pass peace perhaps period pleasure poem poet poetry political prayer present religion religious rest Ring rises Rose seems seen sense Series side Small post 8vo sorrow soul spirit stand Story sweet teaching thee things thou thought true truth turn universal vision voice vols Volumes whole wild
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Сторінка 248 - Earth has not anything to show more fair ! Dull would he be of soul who could pass by A sight so touching in its majesty. This city now doth like a garment wear The beauty of the morning : silent, bare, Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples, lie Open unto the fields and to the sky, All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
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 274 - Yet once more, O ye laurels, and once more Ye myrtles brown, with ivy never sere, I come to pluck your berries harsh and crude, And with forced fingers rude, Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year. 5 Bitter constraint, and sad occasion dear, Compels me to disturb your season due...
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 275 - 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 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. Sweet rose, whose hue angry and brave Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye, Thy root is ever in its grave, And thou must die.
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 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 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.