The Leisure Hour Improved, Or, Moral Miscellanies in Prose and Verse

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Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme, & Brown, 1811 - 192 oldal
 

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32. oldal - In thoughts from the visions of the night, when deep sleep falleth on men, fear came upon me, and trembling, which made all my bones to shake. Then a spirit passed before my face ; the hair of my flesh stood up : it stood still, but I could not discern the form thereof : an image was before mine eyes ; there was silence, and I heard a voice...
77. oldal - Neither is there any creature that is not manifest in his sight : but all things are naked and open unto the eyes of him with whom we have to do.
156. oldal - So fades a summer cloud away, So sinks the gale when storms are o'er, So gently shuts the eye of day, So dies a wave along the shore.
66. oldal - Then shall the land enjoy her sabbaths, as long as it lieth desolate, and ye be in your enemies' land ; even then shall the land rest, and enjoy her sabbaths.
16. oldal - To give an early preference to honour above gain when they stand in competition to despise every advantage which cannot be attained without dishonest arts to brook no meanness and to stoop to no dissimulation are the indications of a great mind the presages of future eminence and usefulness in life.
27. oldal - O Thou whose power o'er moving worlds presides, Whose voice created, and whose wisdom guides, On darkling man in pure effulgence shine, And cheer the clouded mind with light divine. Tis thine alone to calm the pious breast, With silent confidence and holy rest : From thee, great God ! we spring, to thee we tend, Path, motive, guide, original, and end...
77. oldal - It is a good thing to give thanks unto the Lord, And to sing praises unto Thy name, O most High : To shew forth Thy lovingkindness in the morning, And Thy faithfulness every night.
143. oldal - Live while you live, the Epicure would say, And seize the pleasures of the present day. Live while you live, the sacred Preacher cries, And give to God each moment as it flies.
171. oldal - WEAK and irresolute is man ; The purpose of to-day, Woven with pains into his plan, To-morrow rends away. The bow well bent, and smart the spring. Vice seems already slain ; But Passion rudely snaps the string, And it revives again.
120. oldal - Thee, self-abased in mortal guise, And wrapt in shades of death for me. 2 On thee my waking raptures dwell, When crimson gleams the east adorn, Thee, victor of the grave and hell, Thee, source of life's eternal morn. 3 When noon her throne in light arrays, To thee my soul triumphant springs ; Thee, throned in glory's endless blaze, Thee, Lord of lords, and King of kings. 4 O'er earth, when shades of evening steal, To death and thee my thoughts I give ; To death, whose power I soon must feel, To thee,...

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