The Character Building Readers: First reader, part one-[eighth year]

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Hinds, Noble & Eldredge, 1910

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73. oldal - Either how canst thou say to thy brother, Brother, let me pull out the mote that is in thine eye, when thou thyself beholdest not the beam that is in thine own eye? Thou hypocrite, cast out first the beam out of thine own eye, and then shalt thou see clearly to pull out the mote that is in thy brother's eye.
45. oldal - For as the heaven is high above the earth, So great is his mercy toward them that fear him.
79. oldal - I Remember, I Remember. I REMEMBER, I remember The house where I was born, The little window where the sun Came peeping in at morn; He never came a wink too soon Nor brought too long a day; But now, I often wish the night Had borne my breath away.
181. oldal - ... the papers again by expressing each hinted sentiment at length, and as fully as it had been expressed before, in any suitable words that should come to hand. Then I compared my " Spectator " with the original, discovered some of my faults, and corrected them.
74. oldal - I will shew you to whom he is like: he is like a man which built an house, and digged deep, and laid the foundation on a rock: and when the flood arose, the stream beat vehemently upon that house, and could not shake it: for it was founded upon a rock.
229. oldal - I know of, in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely, and to think of people below them as if they really were fellow-travellers to the grave, and not another race of creatures bound on other journeys.
80. oldal - I remember, I remember The fir trees dark and high; I used to think their slender tops Were close against the sky: It was a childish ignorance, But now 'tis little joy To know I'm farther off from- Heaven Than when I was a boy.
100. oldal - This tent is mine," said Yussouf, "but no more Than it is God's; come in, and be at peace; Freely shalt thou partake of all my store As I of his who buildeth over these Our tents his glorious roof of night and day, And at whose door none ever yet heard Nay.
61. oldal - BREATHES there the man with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said, This is my own, my native land ? Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned, As home his footsteps he hath turned, From wandering on a foreign strand...
226. oldal - Oh! but he was a tight-fisted hand at the grindstone, Scrooge! a squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous old sinner! Hard and sharp as flint, from which no steel had ever struck out generous fire, secret, and self-contained, and solitary as an oyster. The cold within him froze his old features, nipped his pointed nose, shriveled his cheek, stiffened his gait, made his eyes red, his thin lips blue, and spoke out shrewdly in his grating voice.

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