The New Englander, 2. köide

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A.H. Maltby, 1879

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Page 459 - Forgive, me, LORD, for Thy dear SON, The ill that I this day have done ; That with the world, myself, and Thee, I, ere I sleep, at peace may be.
Page 397 - Or have ye not read in the law, how that on the sabbath days the Priests in the temple profane the sabbath, and are blameless ? 6 But I say unto you, That in this place is one greater than the temple.
Page 634 - Behold, we know not anything ; I can but trust that good shall fall At last — far off— at last, to all, And every winter change to spring. So runs my dream : but what am I ? An infant crying in the night : An infant crying for the light : And with no language but a cry.
Page 93 - Why should ye be stricken any more ? ye will revolt more and more : the whole head is sick, and the whole heart faint. From the sole of the foot even unto the head there is no soundness in it ; but wounds, and bruises, and putrifying sores : they have not been closed, neither bound up, neither mollified with ointment.
Page 398 - Jesus answered, He it is to whom I shall give a sop, when I have dipped it. And when he had dipped the sop he gave it to Judas Iscariot, the son of Simon. And after the sop Satan entered into him. Then said Jesus unto him, That thou doest, do quickly.
Page 486 - And sends the fowls to us in care On daily visits through the air. He hangs in shades the orange bright Like golden lamps in a green night, And does in the pomegranates close Jewels more rich than Ormus shows.
Page 634 - No more? A monster then, a dream, A discord. Dragons of the prime, That tare each other in their slime. Were mellow music match'd with him. O life as futile, then, as frail! O for thy voice to soothe and bless ! What hope of answer, or redress ? Behind the veil, behind the veil.
Page 135 - But let us, who are of the day, be sober, putting on the breastplate of faith and love ; and for an helmet, the hope of salvation.
Page 255 - And there came a traveller unto the rich man, and he spared to take of his own flock, and of his own herd, to dress for the wayfaring man that was come unto him, but took the poor man's lamb, and dressed it for the man that was come to him.
Page 634 - I trust I have not wasted breath : I think we are not wholly brain, Magnetic mockeries ; not in vain, Like Paul with beasts, I fought with Death; Not only cunning casts in clay: Let Science prove we are, and then What matters Science unto men, At least to me ? I would not stay.

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